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<mikel@calera.com> Mike Lynch
Memorial Edition
The Complete Works of
James Whitcomb Riley
IN TEN VOLUMES
Including Poems and Prose Sketches, many
of which have not heretofore been
published; an authentic Biography, an
elaborate Index and numerous
Illustrations in color from Paintings
by Howard Chandler Christy
and Ethyl Franklin Betts
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
1883, 1885, 1887, 1888, 1890, 1891, 189, 1893, 1894,
1896, 1897, 1898, 1899, 1900, 1901, 190, 1903, 1904,
1905, 1906, 1907, 1908, 1909, 1910, 1911, 191, 1913,
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
COPYRIGHT 1916
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
THE MEMORY OF
James Whitcomb Riley
IN PLEASANT RECOLLECTION OF MORE THAN THIRTY-FIVE YEARS
OF BUSINESS AND PERSONAL ASSOCIATION
THESE FINAL VOLUMES
ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
BORN:                       DIED:
October 7, 1849,            July 22, 1916
Greenfield, Ind.            Indianapolis, Ind.
                                                   
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY--A SKETCH
A BACKWARD LOOK
PHILIPER FLASH 
THE SAME OLD STORY 
TO A BOY WHISTLING 
AN OLD FRIEND
WHAT SMITH KNEW ABOUT FARMING
A POET'S WOOING
MAN'S DEVOTION 
THE OLD TIMES WERE THE BEST
A SUMMER AFTERNOON 
FARMER WHIPPLE--BACHELOR 
MY JOLLY FRIEND'S SECRET 
THE SPEEDING OF THE KING'S SPITE 
PRIVATE THEATRICAL
PLAIN SERMONS
"TRADIN' JOE"
DOT LEEDLE BOY 
I SMOKE MY PIPE
RED RIDING HOOD
IF I KNEW WHAT POETS KNOW
AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE
SQUIRE HAWKINS'S STORY 
A COUNTRY PATHWAY
THE OLD GUITAR 
"FRIDAY AFTERNOON" 
"JOHNSON'S BOY"
HER BEAUTIFUL HANDS
NATURAL PERVERSITIES 
THE SILENT VICTORS 
DEAD IN SIGHT OF FAME
THE IRON HORSE 
OVER THE EYES OF GLADNESS
ONLY A DREAM 
OUR LlTTLE GIRL
THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW
SONG OF THE NEW YEAR 
A LETTER TO A FRIEND 
LINES FOR AN ALBUM 
AN EMPTY NEST
MY FATHER'S HALLS
THE HARP OF THE MINSTREL 
HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB 
THAT OTHER MAUDE MULLER
A MAN OF MANY PARTS
A DREAM OF LONG AGO
WASH LOWRY'S REMINISCENCE
THE ANCIENT PRINTERMAN 
PRIOR TO MISS BELLE'S APPEARANCE 
WHEN MOTHER COMBED MY HAIR
A WRANGDILLION 
GEORGE MULLEN'S CONFESSION
SAY SOMETHING TO ME
A TEST OF LOVE 
FATHER WILLIAM
WHAT THE WIND SAID 
AN AUTUMNAL EXTRAVAGANZA 
THE RAINY MORNING
WE ARE NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE 
A SUMMER SUNRISE 
DAS KRIST KINDEL 
AN OLD YEAR'S ADDRESS
A NEW YEAR S PLAINT
LUTHER BENSON
WHEN EVENING SHADOWS FALL
DREAMER, SAY
TOM VAN ARDEN
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY--A SKETCH
On Sunday morning, October seventh, 1849, Reuben A. Riley and his
wife, Elizabeth Marine Riley, rejoiced over the birth of their
second son.  They called him James Whitcomb.  This was in a shady
little street in the shady little town of Greenfield, which is in
the county of Hancock and the state of Indiana.  The young James
found a brother and a sister waiting to greet him--John Andrew
and Martha Celestia, and afterward came Elva May--Mrs. Henry
Eitel-- Alexander Humbolt and Mary Elizabeth, who, of all, alone
lives to see this collection of her brother's poems.
James Whitcomb was a slender lad, with corn-silk hair and wide
blue eyes.  He was shy and timid, not strong physically, dreading
the cold of winter, and avoiding the rougher sports of his
playmates.  And yet he was full of the spirit of youth, a spirit
that manifested itself in the performance of many ingenious
pranks.  His every-day life was that of the average boy in the
average country town of that day, but his home influences were
exceptional.  His father, who became a captain of cavalry in the
Civil War, was a lawyer of ability and an orator of more than
local distinction.  His mother was a woman of rare strength of
character combined with deep sympathy and a clear understanding. 
Together, they made home a place to remember with thankful heart.
When James was twenty years old, the death of his mother made a
profound impression on him, an impression that has influenced
much of his verse and has remained with him always.
At an early age he was sent to school and, "then sent back
again," to use his own words.  He was restive under what he
called the "iron discipline."  A number of years ago, he spoke
of these early educational beginnings in phrases so picturesque
and so characteristic that they are quoted in full:
"My first teacher was a little old woman, rosy and roly-poly, who
looked as though she might have just come tumbling out of a fairy
story, so lovable was she and so jolly and so amiable.  She kept
school in her little Dame-Trot kind of dwelling of three rooms,
with a porch in the rear, like a bracket on the wall, which was
part of the play-ground of her 'scholars,'--for in those days
pupils were called 'scholars' by their affectionate teachers. 
Among the twelve or fifteen boys and girls who were there I
remember particularly a little lame boy, who always got the first
ride in the locust-tree swing during recess.
"This first teacher of mine was a mother to all her 'scholars,'
and in every way looked after their comfort, especially when
certain little ones grew drowsy.  I was often, with others,
carried to the sitting-room and left to slumber on a small made-
down pallet on the floor.  She would sometimes take three or four
of us together; and I recall how a playmate and I, having been
admonished into silence, grew deeply interested in watching a
spare old man who sat at a window with its shade drawn down. 
After a while we became accustomed to this odd sight and would
laugh, and talk in whispers and give imitations, as we sat in a
low sewing-chair, of the little old pendulating blind man at the
window.  Well, the old man was the gentle teacher's charge, and
for this reason, possibly, her life had become an heroic one,
caring for her helpless husband who, quietly content, waited
always at the window for his sight to come back to him.  And
doubtless it is to-day, as he sits at another casement and sees
not only his earthly friends, but all the friends of the Eternal
Home, with the smiling, loyal, loving little woman forever at his
"She was the kindliest of souls even when constrained to punish
us.  After a whipping she invariably took me into the little
kitchen and gave me two great white slabs of bread cemented
together with layers of butter and jam.  As she always whipped me
with the same slender switch she used for a pointer, and cried
over every lick, you will have an idea how much punishment I
could stand.  When I was old enough to be lifted by the ears out
of my seat that office was performed by a pedagogue whom I
promised to 'whip sure, if he'd just wait till I got big enough.'
He is still waiting!
"There was but one book at school in which I found the slightest
interest:  McGuffey's old leather-bound Sixth Reader.  It was the
tallest book known, and to the boys of my size it was a matter of
eternal wonder how I could belong to 'the big class in that
reader.'  When we were to read the death of 'Little Nell,' I
would run away, for I knew it would make me cry, that the other
boys would laugh at me, and the whole thing would become
ridiculous.  I couldn't bear that.  A later teacher, Captain Lee
O. Harris, came to understand me with thorough sympathy, took
compassion on my weaknesses and encouraged me to read the best
literature.  He understood that he couldn't get numbers into my
head.  You couldn't tamp them in!  History I also disliked as a
dry thing without juice, and dates melted out of my memory as
speedily as tin-foil on a red-hot stove.  But I always was ready
to declaim and took natively to anything dramatic or theatrical. 
Captain Harris encouraged me in recitation and reading and had
ever the sweet spirit of a companion rather than the manner of an
instructor."
But if there was "only one book at school in which he found the
slightest interest," he had before that time displayed an
affection for a book--simply as such and not for any printed word
it might contain.  And this, after all, is the true book-lover's
love.  Speaking of this incident--and he liked to refer to it
as his "first literary recollection," he said:  "Long
before I was old enough to read I remember buying a book at an
old auctioneer's shop in Greenfield.  I can not imagine what
prophetic impulse took possession of me and made me forego the
ginger cakes and the candy that usually took every cent of my
youthful income.  The slender little volume must have cost all of
twenty-five cents!  It was Francis Quarles' Divine Emblems,--a
neat little affair about the size of a pocket Testament.  I
carried it around with me all day long, delighted with the very
" 'What have you got there, Bub?' some one would ask.  'A book,'
I would reply.  'What kind of a book?'  'Poetry-book.'  'Poetry!'
would be the amused exclamation.  'Can you read poetry?' and,
embarrassed, I'd shake my head and make my escape, but I held on
to the beloved little volume."
Every boy has an early determination--a first one--to follow some
ennobling profession, once he has come to man's estate, such as
being a policeman, or a performer on the high trapeze.  The poet
would not have been the "Peoples' Laureate," had his fairy god-
mother granted his boy-wish, but the Greenfield baker.  For to
his childish mind it "seemed the acme of delight," using again
his own happy expression, "to manufacture those snowy loaves of
bread, those delicious tarts, those toothsome bon-bons.  And then
to own them all, to keep them in store, to watch over and
guardedly exhibit.  The thought of getting money for them was
to me a sacrilege.  Sell them?  No indeed.  Eat 'em--eat 'em, by
tray loads and dray loads!  It was a great wonder to me why the
pale-faced baker in our town did not eat all his good things. 
This I determined to do when I became owner of such a grand
establishment.  Yes, sir.  I would have a glorious feast.  Maybe
I'd have Tom and Harry and perhaps little Kate and Florry in to
help us once in a while.  The thought of these play-mates as
'grown-up folks' didn't appeal to me.  I was but a child, with
wide-open eyes, a healthy appetite and a wondering mind.  That
was all.  But I have the same sweet tooth to-day, and every time
I pass a confectioner's shop, I think of the big baker of our
town, and Tom and Harry and the youngsters all."
As a child, he often went with his father to the court-house
where the lawyers and clerks playfully called him "judge Wick." 
Here as a privileged character he met and mingled with the
country folk who came to sue and be sued, and thus early the
dialect, the native speech, the quaint expressions of his "own
people" were made familiar to him, and took firm root in the
fresh soil of his young memory.  At about this time, he made his
first poetic attempt in a valentine which he gave to his mother. 
Not only did he write the verse, but he drew a sketch to
accompany it, greatly to his mother's delight, who, according to
the best authority, gave the young poet "three big cookies and
didn't spank me for two weeks.  This was my earliest literary
encouragement."
Shortly after his sixteenth birthday, young Riley turned his back
on the little schoolhouse and for a time wandered through the
different fields of art, indulging a slender talent for painting
until he thought he was destined for the brush and palette, and
then making merry with various musical instruments, the banjo,
the guitar, the violin, until finally he appeared as bass drummer
in a brass band.  "In a few weeks," he said, "I had beat myself
into the more enviable position of snare drummer.  Then I wanted
to travel with a circus, and dangle my legs before admiring
thousands over the back seat of a Golden Chariot.  In a dearth of
comic songs for the banjo and guitar, I had written two or three
myself, and the idea took possession of me that I might be a
clown, introduced as a character-song-man and the composer of my
own ballads.
"My father was thinking of something else, however, and one day I
found myself with a 'five-ought' paint brush under the eaves of
an old frame house that drank paint by the bucketful, learning to
be a painter.  Finally, I graduated as a house, sign and
ornamental painter, and for two summers traveled about with a
small company of young fellows calling ourselves 'The Graphics,'
who covered all the barns and fences in the state with
advertisements."
At another time his, young man's fancy saw attractive
possibilities in the village print-shop, and later his
ambition was diverted to acting, encouraged by the good times he
had in the theatricals of the Adelphian Society of Greenfield. 
"In my dreamy way," he afterward said, "I did a little of a
number of things fairly well--sang, played the guitar and violin,
acted, painted signs and wrote poetry.  My father did not
encourage my verse-making for he thought it too visionary, and
being a visionary himself, he believed he understood the dangers
of following the promptings of the poetic temperament.  I doubted
if anything would come of the verse-writing myself.  At this time
it is easy to picture my father, a lawyer of ability, regarding
me, nonplused, as the worst case he had ever had.  He wanted me
to do something practical, besides being ambitious for me to
follow in his footsteps, and at last persuaded me to settle down
and read law in his office.  This I really tried to do
conscientiously, but finding that political economy and
Blackstone did not rhyme and that the study of law was
unbearable, I slipped out of the office one summer afternoon,
when all out-doors called imperiously, shook the last dusty
premise from my head and was away.
"The immediate instigator of my flight was a traveling medicine
man who appealed to me for this reason:  My health was bad, very
bad,--as bad as I was.  Our doctor had advised me to travel, but
how could I travel without money?  The medicine man needed an
assistant and I plucked up courage to ask if I could join the
party and paint advertisements for him.
"I rode out of town with that glittering cavalcade without saying
good-by to any one, and though my patron was not a diplomaed
doctor, as I found out, he was a man of excellent habits, and the
whole company was made up of good straight boys, jolly chirping
vagabonds like myself.  It was delightful to bowl over the
country in that way.  I laughed all the time.  Miles and miles of
somber landscape were made bright with merry song, and when the
sun shone and all the golden summer lay spread out before us, it
was glorious just to drift on through it like a wisp, of
thistle-down, careless of how, or when, or where the wind should
anchor us. 'There's a tang of gipsy blood in my veins that pants
for the sun and the air.'
"My duty proper was the manipulation of two blackboards, swung at
the sides of the wagon during our street lecture and concert. 
These boards were alternately embellished with colored drawings
illustrative of the manifold virtues of the nostrum vended. 
Sometimes I assisted the musical olio with dialect recitations
and character sketches from the back step of the wagon.  These
selections in the main originated from incidents and experiences
along the route, and were composed on dull Sundays in lonesome
little towns where even the church bells seemed to bark at us."
On his return to Greenfield after this delightful but profitless
tour he became the local editor of his home paper and in a few
months "strangled the little thing into a change of ownership." 
The new proprietor transferred him to the literary department and
the latter, not knowing what else to put in the space allotted
him, filled it with verse.  But there was not room in his
department for all he produced, so he began, timidly, to offer
his poetic wares in foreign markets.  The editor of The
Indianapolis Mirror accepted two or three shorter verses but in
doing so suggested that in the future he try prose.  Being but an
humble beginner, Riley harkened to the advice, whereupon the
editor made a further suggestion; this time that he try poetry
again.  The Danbury (Connecticut) News, then at the height of its
humorous reputation, accepted a contribution shortly after The
Mirror episode and Mr. McGeechy, its managing editor, wrote the
young poet a graceful note of congratulation.  Commenting on
these parlous times, Riley afterward wrote, "It is strange how
little a thing sometimes makes or unmakes a fellow.  In these
dark days I should have been content with the twinkle of the
tiniest star, but even this light was withheld from me.  Just
then came the letter from McGeechy; and about the same time,
arrived my first check, a payment from Hearth and Home for a
contribution called A Destiny (now A Dreamer in A Child World). 
The letter was signed, 'Editor' and unless sent by an assistant
it must have come from Ik Marvel himself, God bless him!  I
thought my fortune made.  Almost immediately I sent off another
contribution, whereupon to my dismay came this reply:  'The
management has decided to discontinue the publication and hopes
that you will find a market for your worthy work elsewhere.' 
Then followed dark days indeed, until finally, inspired by my old
teacher and comrade, Captain Lee O. Harris, I sent some of my
poems to Longfellow, who replied in his kind and gentle manner
with the substantial encouragement for which I had long
In the year following, Riley formed a connection with The
Anderson (Indiana) Democrat and contributed verse and locals in
more than generous quantities.  He was happy in this work and had
begun to feel that at last he was making progress when evil
fortune knocked at his door and, conspiring with circumstances
and a friend or two, induced the young poet to devise what
afterward seemed to him the gravest of mistakes,--the Poe-poem
hoax.  He was then writing for an audience of county papers and
never dreamed that this whimsical bit of fooling would be carried
beyond such boundaries.  It was suggested by these circumstances.
He was inwardly distressed by the belief that his failure to get
the magazines to accept his verse was due to his obscurity, while
outwardly he was harassed to desperation by the junior editor of
the rival paper who jeered daily at his poetical pretensions. 
So, to prove that editors would praise from a known source what
they did not hesitate to condemn from one unknown, and to silence
his nagging contemporary, he wrote Leonainie in the style of
Poe, concocting a story, to accompany the poem, setting forth how
Poe came to write it and how all these years it had been lost to
view.  In a few words Mr. Riley related the incident and then
dismissed it.  "I studied Poe's methods.  He seemed to have a
theory, rather misty to be sure, about the use of 'm's' and 'n's'
and mellifluous vowels and sonorous words.  I remember that I was
a long time in evolving the name Leonainie, but at length the
verses were finished and ready for trial.
"A friend, the editor of The Kokomo Dispatch, undertook the
launching of the hoax in his paper; he did this with great
editorial gusto while, at the same time, I attacked the
authenticity of the poem in The Democrat.  That diverted all
possible suspicion from me.  The hoax succeeded far too well, for
what had started as a boyish prank became a literary discussion
nation-wide, and the necessary expose had to be made.  I was
appalled at the result.  The press assailed me furiously, and
even my own paper dismissed me because I had given the
'discovery' to a rival."
Two dreary and disheartening years followed this tragic event,
years in which the young poet found no present help, nor future
hope.  But over in Indianapolis, twenty miles away, happier
circumstances were shaping themselves.  Judge E. B. Martindale,
editor and proprietor of The Indianapolis Journal, had been
attracted by certain poems in various papers over the state and
at the very time that the poet was ready to confess himself
beaten, the judge wrote:  "Come over to Indianapolis and we'll
give you, a place on The Journal."  Mr. Riley went.  That was the
turning point, and though the skies were not always clear, nor
the way easy, still from that time it was ever an ascending
journey.  As soon as he was comfortably settled in his new
position, the first of the Benj. F. Johnson poems made its
appearance.  These dialect verses were introduced with editorial
comment as coming from an old Boone county farmer, and their
reception was so cordial, so enthusiastic, indeed, that the
business manager of The Journal, Mr. George C. Hitt, privately
published them in pamphlet form and sold the first edition of one
thousand copies in local bookstores and over The Journal office
counter.  This marked an epoch in the young poet's progress and
was the beginning of a friendship between him and Mr. Hitt that
has never known interruption.  This first edition of The Old
Swimmin' Hole and 'Leven More Poems has since become extremely
rare and now commands a high premium.  A second edition was
promptly issued by a local book dealer, whose successors, The
Bowen-Merrill Company--now The Bobbs-Merrill Company--have
continued, practically without interruption, to publish Riley's
The call to read from the public platform had by this time become
so insistent that Riley could no longer resist it, although
modesty and shyness fought the battle for privacy.  He told
briefly and in his own inimitable fashion of these trying
experiences.  "In boyhood I had been vividly impressed with
Dickens' success in reading from his own works and dreamed that
some day I might follow his example.  At first I read at Sunday-
school entertainments and later, on special occasions such as
Memorial Days and Fourth of Julys.  At last I mustered up
sufficient courage to read in a city theater, where, despite the
conspiracy of a rainy night and a circus, I got encouragement
enough to lead me to extend my efforts.  And so, my native state
and then the country at large were called upon to bear with me
and I think I visited every sequestered spot north or south
particularly distinguished for poor railroad connections.  At
different times, I shared the program with Mark Twain, Robert J.
Burdette and George Cable, and for a while my gentlest and
cheeriest of friends, Bill Nye, joined with me and made the dusty
detested travel almost a delight.  We were constantly playing
practical jokes on each other or indulging in some mischievous
banter before the audience.  On one occasion, Mr. Nye, coming
before the foot-lights for a word of general introduction, said,
'Ladies and gentlemen, the entertainment to-night is of a dual
nature.  Mr. Riley and I will speak alternately.  First I come
out and talk until I get tired, then Mr. Riley comes out and
talks until YOU get tired!'  And thus the trips went merrily
enough at times and besides I learned to know in Bill Nye a man
blessed with as noble and heroic a heart as ever beat.  But the
making of trains, which were all in conspiracy to outwit me,
schedule or no schedule, and the rush and tyrannical pressure of
inviolable engagements, some hundred to a season and from Boston
to San Francisco, were a distress to my soul.  I am glad that's
over with.  Imagine yourself on a crowded day-long excursion;
imagine that you had to ride all the way on the platform of the
car; then imagine that you had to ride all the way back on the
same platform; and lastly, try to imagine how you would feel if
you did that every day of your life, and you will then get a
glimmer--a faint glimmer--of how one feels after traveling about
on a reading or lecturing tour.
"All this time I had been writing whenever there was any strength
left in me.  I could not resist the inclination to write.  It was
what I most enjoyed doing.  And so I wrote, laboriously ever,
more often using the rubber end of the pencil than the point.
"In my readings I had an opportunity to study and find out for
myself what the public wants, and afterward I would endeavor to
use the knowledge gained in my writing.  The public desires
nothing but what is absolutely natural, and so perfectly natural
as to be fairly artless.  It can not tolerate affectation, and it
takes little interest in the classical production.  It demands
simple sentiments that come direct from the heart.  While on the
lecture platform I watched the effect that my readings had on the
audience very closely and whenever anybody left the hall I knew
that my recitation was at fault and tried to find out why.  Once
a man and his wife made an exit while I was giving The Happy
Little Cripple--a recitation I had prepared with particular
enthusiasm and satisfaction.  It fulfilled, as few poems do, all
the requirements of length, climax and those many necessary
features for a recitation.  The subject was a theme of real
pathos, beautified by the cheer and optimism of the little
sufferer.  Consequently when this couple left the hall I was very
anxious to know the reason and asked a friend to find out.  He
learned that they had a little hunch-back child of their own. 
After this experience I never used that recitation again.  On the
other hand, it often required a long time for me to realize that
the public would enjoy a poem which, because of some blind
impulse, I thought unsuitable.  Once a man said to me, 'Why don't
you recite When the Frost Is on the Punkin?' The use of it had
never occurred to me for I thought it 'wouldn't go.'  He
persuaded me to try it and it became one of my most favored
recitations.  Thus, I learned to judge and value my verses by
their effect upon the public.  Occasionally, at first, I had
presumed to write 'over the heads' of the audience, consoling
myself for the cool reception by thinking my auditors were not of
sufficient intellectual height to appreciate my efforts.  But
after a time it came home to me that I myself was at fault in
these failures, and then I disliked anything that did not appeal
to the public and learned to discriminate between that which did
not ring true to my hearers and that which won them by virtue of
its truthfulness and was simply heart high."
As a reader of his own poems, as a teller of humorous stories, as
a mimic, indeed as a finished actor, Riley's genius was rare and
beyond question.  In a lecture on the Humorous Story, Mark Twain,
referring to the story of the One Legged Soldier and the
different ways of telling it, once said:
"It takes only a minute and a half to tell it in its comic form;
and it isn't worth telling after all.  Put into the
humorous-story form, it takes ten minutes, and is about the
funniest thing I have ever listened to--as James Whitcomb Riley
"The simplicity and innocence and sincerity and unconsciousness
of Riley's old farmer are perfectly simulated, and the result is
a performance which is thoroughly charming and delicious.  This
is art--and fine and beautiful, and only a master can compass
It was in  that The Old Swimmin' Hole and 'Leven More
Poems first appeared in volume form.  Four years afterward, Riley
made his initial appearance before a New York City audience.  The
entertainment was given in aid of an international copyright law,
and the country's most distinguished men of letters took part in
the program.  It is probably true that no one appearing at that
time was less known to the vast audience in Chickering Hall than
James Whitcomb Riley, but so great and so spontaneous was the
enthusiasm when he left the stage after his contribution to the
first day's program, that the management immediately announced a
place would be made for Mr. Riley on the second and last day's
program.  It was then that James Russell Lowell introduced him in
the following words:
"Ladies and gentlemen:  I have very great pleasure in presenting
to you the next reader of this afternoon, Mr. James Whitcomb
Riley, of Indiana.  I confess, with no little chagrin and sense
of my own loss, that when yesterday afternoon, from this
platform, I presented him to a similar assemblage, I was almost
completely a stranger to his poems.  But since that time I have
been looking into the volumes that have come from his pen, and in
them I have discovered so much of high worth and tender quality
that I deeply regret I had not long before made acquaintance with
his work.  To-day, in presenting Mr. Riley to you, I can say to
you of my own knowledge, that you are to have the pleasure of
listening to the voice of a true poet."
Two years later a selection from his poems was published in
England under the title Old Fashioned Roses and his
international reputation was established.  In his own country the
people had already conferred their highest degrees on him and now
the colleges and universities--seats of conservatism--gave him
scholastic recognition.  Yale made him an Honorary Master of Arts
in 1902; in 1903, Wabash and, a year later, the University of
Pennsylvania conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Letters,
and in 1907 Indiana University gave him his LL. D.  Still more
recently the Academy of Arts and Letters elected him to
membership, and in 1912 awarded him the gold medal for poetry. 
About this time a yet dearer, more touching tribute came to him
from school children.  On October 7, 1911, the schools of Indiana
and New York City celebrated his birthday by special exercises,
and one year later, the school children of practically every
section of the country had programs in his honor.
As these distinguished honors came they found him each time
surprised anew and, though proud that they who dwell in the high
places of learning should come in cap and gown to welcome him,
yet gently and sincerely protesting his own unworthiness.  And as
they found him when they came so they left him.
Mr. Riley made his home in Indianapolis from the time judge
Martindale invited him to join The Journal's forces, and no one
of her citizens was more devoted, nor was any so universally
loved and honored.  Everywhere he went the tribute of quick
recognition and cheery greeting was paid him, and his home was
the shrine of every visiting Hoosier.  High on a sward of velvet
grass stands a dignified middle-aged brick house.  A dwarfed
stone wall, broken by an iron gate, guards the front lawn, while
in the rear an old-fashioned garden revels in hollyhocks and wild
roses.  Here among his books and his souvenirs the poet spent his
happy andncontented days.  To reach this restful spot, the
pilgrim must journey to Lockerbie Street, a miniature
thoroughfare half hidden between two more commanding avenues.  It
is little more than a lane, shaded, unpaved and from end to end
no longer than a five minutes' walk, but its fame is for all
 "Such a dear little street it is, nestled away
 From the noise of the city and heat of the day,
 In cool shady coverts of whispering trees,
 With their leaves lifted up to shake hands with the breeze
 Which in all its wide wanderings never may meet
 With a resting-place fairer than Lockerbie Street!"
Riley never married.  He lived with devoted, loyal and
understanding friends, a part of whose life he became many years
ago.  Kindly consideration, gentle affection, peace and order,--
all that go to make home home, were found here blooming with the
hollyhocks and the wild roses.  Every day some visitor knocked
for admittance and was not denied; every day saw the poet calling
for some companionable friend and driving with him through the
city's shaded streets or far out into the country.
And so his life drew on to its last and most beautiful year. 
Since his serious illness in 1910, the public had shown its love
for him more and more frequently.  On the occasion of his 
birthday in 1912, Greenfield had welcomed him home through a host
of children scattering flowers.  Anderson, where he was living
when he first gained public recognition, had a Riley Day in 1913.
The Indiana State University entertained him the same year, as
did also the city of Cincinnati.  In 1915 there was a Riley Day
at Columbus, Indiana, and during all this time each birthday and
Christmas was marked by "poetry-showers," and by thousands of
letters of affectionate congratulation and by many tributes in
the newspapers and magazines.
His last birthday, October 7, 1915, was the most notable of all. 
Honorable Franklin K. Lane, Secretary of the Interior, suggested
to the various school superintendents that one of Riley's poems
be read in each schoolhouse, with the result that Riley
celebrations were general among the children of the entire
country.  In a proclamation by Governor Ralston the State of
Indiana designated the anniversary as Riley Day in honor of its
"most beloved citizen."  Thousands of letters and gifts from the
poet's friends poured in--letters from schools and organizations
and Riley Clubs as well as from individuals--while flowers came
from every section of the country.  Among them all, perhaps the
poet was most pleased with a bunch of violets picked from the
banks of the Brandywine by the children of a Riley school.
It was on this last birthday that an afternoon festival of Riley
poems set to music and danced in pantomime took place at
Indianapolis.  This was followed at night by a dinner in his
honor at which Charles Warren Fairbanks presided, and the
speakers were Governor Ralston, Doctor John Finley, Colonel
George Harvey, Young E. Allison, William Allen White, George Ade,
Ex-Senator Beveridge and Senator Kern.  That night Riley smiled
his most wonderful smile, his dimpled boyish smile, and when he
rose to speak it was with a perceptible quaver in his voice that
he said:  "Everywhere the faces of friends, a beautiful throng of
The winter and spring following, Riley spent quietly at Miami,
Florida, where he had gone the two previous seasons to escape the
cold and the rain.  There was a Riley Day at Miami in February. 
In April, he returned home, feeling at his best, and, as if by
premonition, sought out many of his friends, new and old, and
took them for last rides in his automobile.  A few days before
the end, he visited Greenfield to attend the funeral of a dear
boyhood chum, Almon Keefer, of whom he wrote in A Child-World. 
All Riley's old friends who were still left in Greenfield were
gathered there and to them he spoke words of faith and good
cheer.  Almon Keefer had "just slipped out" quietly and
peacefully, he said, and "it was beautiful."
And as quietly and peacefully his own end came--as he had desired
it, with no dimming of the faculties even to the very close, nor
suffering, nor confronting death.  This was Saturday night, July
22, 1916.  On Monday afternoon and evening his body lay in state
under the dome of Indiana's capitol, while the people filed by,
thousands upon thousands.  Business men were there, and
schoolgirls, matrons carrying market baskets, mothers with little
children, here and there a swarthy foreigner, old folks, too, and
well-dressed youths, here a farmer and his wife, and there a
workman in a blue jumper with his hat in his band, silent,
inarticulate, yet bidding his good-by, too.  On the following
day, with only his nearest and dearest about him, all that was
mortal of the people's poet was quietly and simply laid to rest.
The Complete Works
of James Whitcomb Riley
A BACKWARD LOOK
As I sat smoking, alone, yesterday,
    And lazily leaning back in my chair,
Enjoying myself in a general way--
Allowing my thoughts a holiday
    From weariness, toil and care,--
My fancies--doubtless, for ventilation--
    Left ajar the gates of my mind,--
And Memory, seeing the situation,
    Slipped out in the street of "Auld Lang Syne."--
Wandering ever with tireless feet
    Through scenes of silence, and jubilee
Of long-hushed voices; and faces sweet
Were thronging the shadowy side of the street
    As far as the eye could see;
Dreaming again, in anticipation,
    The same old dreams of our boyhood's days
That never come true, from the vague sensation
    Of walking asleep in the world's strange ways.
Away to the house where I was born!
    And there was the selfsame clock that ticked
From the close of dusk to the burst of morn,
When life-warm hands plucked the golden corn
    And helped when the apples were picked.
And the "chany dog" on the mantel-shelf,
    With the gilded collar and yellow eyes,
Looked just as at first, when I hugged myself
    Sound asleep with the dear surprise.
And down to the swing in the locust-tree,
    Where the grass was worn from the trampled ground,
And where "Eck" Skinner, "Old" Carr, and three
Or four such other boys used to be
    "Doin' sky-scrapers," or "whirlin' round":
And again Bob climbed for the bluebird's nest,
    And again "had shows" in the buggy-shed
Of Guymon's barn, where still, unguessed,
    The old ghosts romp through the best days dead!
And again I gazed from the old schoolroom
    With a wistful look, of a long June day,
When on my cheek was the hectic bloom
Caught of Mischief, as I presume--
    He had such a "partial" way,
It seemed, toward me.--And again I thought
    Of a probable likelihood to be
Kept in after school--for a girl was caught
    Catching a note from me.
And down through the woods to the swimming-hole--
    Where the big, white, hollow old sycamore grows,--
And we never cared when the water was cold,
And always "ducked" the boy that told
    On the fellow that tied the clothes.--
When life went so like a dreamy rhyme,
    That it seems to me now that then
The world was having a jollier time
    Than it ever will have again.
PHILIPER FLASH
Young Philiper Flash was a promising lad,
His intentions were good--but oh, how sad
    For a person to think
    How the veriest pink
And bloom of perfection may turn out bad.
Old Flash himself was a moral man,
And prided himself on a moral plan,
    Of a maxim as old
    As the calf of gold,
Of making that boy do what he was told.
And such a good mother had Philiper Flash;
Her voice was as soft as the creamy plash
    Of the milky wave
    With its musical lave
That gushed through the holes of her patent churn-dash;--
And the excellent woman loved Philiper so,
She could cry sometimes when he stumped his toe,--
    And she stroked his hair
    With such motherly care
When the dear little angel learned to swear.
Old Flash himself would sometimes say
That his wife had "such a ridiculous way,--
    She'd, humor that child
    Till he'd soon be sp'iled,
And then there'd be the devil to pay!"
And the excellent wife, with a martyr's look,
Would tell old Flash himself "he took
    No notice at all
    Of the bright-eyed doll
Unless when he spanked him for getting a fall!"
Young Philiper Flash, as time passed by,
Grew into "a boy with a roguish eye":
    He could smoke a cigar,
    And seemed by far
The most promising youth.--"He's powerful sly,
Old Flash himself once told a friend,
"Every copper he gets he's sure to spend--
    And," said he, "don't you know
    If he keeps on so
What a crop of wild oats the boy will grow!"
But his dear good mother knew Philiper's ways
So--well, she managed the money to raise;
    And old Flash himself
    Was "laid on the shelf,"
(In the manner of speaking we have nowadays).
For "gracious knows, her darling child,
If he went without money he'd soon grow wild."
    So Philiper Flash
    With a regular dash
"Swung on to the reins," and went "slingin' the cash."
As old Flash himself, in his office one day,
Was shaving notes in a barberous way,
    At the hour of four
    Death entered the door
And shaved the note on his life, they say.
And he had for his grave a magnificent tomb,
Though the venturous finger that pointed "Gone Home,"
    Looked white and cold
    From being so bold,
As it feared that a popular lie was told.
Young Philiper Flash was a man of style
When he first began unpacking the pile
    Of the dollars and dimes
    Whose jingling chimes
Had clinked to the tune of his father's smile;
And he strewed his wealth with such lavish hand,
His rakish ways were the talk of the land,
    And gossipers wise
    Sat winking their eyes
(A certain foreboding of fresh surprise).
A "fast young man" was Philiper Flash,
And wore "loud clothes" and a weak mustache,
    And "done the Park,"
    For an "afternoon lark,"
With a very fast horse of "remarkable dash."
And Philiper handled a billiard-cue
About as well as the best he knew,
    And used to say
    "He could make it pay
By playing two or three games a day."
And Philiper Flash was his mother's joy,
He seemed to her the magic alloy
    That made her glad,
    When her heart was sad,
With the thought that "she lived for her darling boy."
His dear good mother wasn't aware
How her darling boy relished a "tare."--
    She said "one night
    He gave her a fright
By coming home late and ACTING tight."
Young Philiper Flash, on a winterish day,
Was published a bankrupt, so they say--
    And as far as I know
    I suppose it was so,
For matters went on in a singular way;
His excellent mother, I think I was told,
Died from exposure and want and cold;
    And Philiper Flash,
    With a horrible slash,
Whacked his jugular open and went to smash.
THE SAME OLD STORY
The same old story told again--
    The maiden droops her head,
The ripening glow of her crimson cheek
    Is answering in her stead.
The pleading tone of a trembling voice
    Is telling her the way
He loved her when his heart was young
    In Youth's sunshiny day:
The trembling tongue, the longing tone,
    Imploringly ask why
They can not be as happy now
    As in the days gone by.
And two more hearts, tumultuous
    With overflowing joy,
Are dancing to the music
    Which that dear, provoking boy
Is twanging on his bowstring,
    As, fluttering his wings,
He sends his love-charged arrows
    While merrily be sings:
"Ho! ho! my dainty maiden,
    It surely can not be
You are thinking you are master
    Of your heart, when it is me."
And another gleaming arrow
    Does the little god's behest,
And the dainty little maiden
    Falls upon her lover's breast.
"The same old story told again,"
    And listened o'er and o'er,
Will still be new, and pleasing, too,
    Till "Time shall be no more."
TO A BOY WHISTLING
The smiling face of a happy boy
    With its enchanted key
    Is now unlocking in memory
My store of heartiest joy.
And my lost life again to-day,
    In pleasant colors all aglow,
    From rainbow tints, to pure white snow,
Is a panorama sliding away.
The whistled air of a simple tune
    Eddies and whirls my thoughts around,
    As fairy balloons of thistle-down
Sail through the air of June.
O happy boy with untaught grace!
    What is there in the world to give
    That can buy one hour of the life you live
Or the trivial cause of your smiling face!
AN OLD FRIEND
Hey, Old Midsummer! are you here again,
    With all your harvest-store of olden joys,--
Vast overhanging meadow-lands of rain,
And drowsy dawns, and noons when golden grain
    Nods in the sun, and lazy truant boys
Drift ever listlessly adown the day,
Too full of joy to rest, and dreams to play.
The same old Summer, with the same old smile
    Beaming upon us in the same old way
We knew in childhood!  Though a weary while
Since that far time, yet memories reconcile
    The heart with odorous breaths of clover hay;
And again I hear the doves, and the sun streams through
The old barn door just as it used to do.
And so it seems like welcoming a friend--
    An old, OLD friend, upon his coming home
From some far country--coming home to spend
Long, loitering days with me:  And I extend
    My hand in rapturous glee:--And so you've come!--
Ho, I'm so glad!  Come in and take a chair:
Well, this is just like OLD times, I declare!
WHAT SMITH KNEW ABOUT FARMING
There wasn't two purtier farms in the state
Than the couple of which I'm about to relate;--
Jinin' each other--belongin' to Brown,
And jest at the edge of a flourishin' town.
Brown was a man, as I understand,
That allus had handled a good 'eal o' land,
And was sharp as a tack in drivin' a trade--
For that's the way most of his money was made.
And all the grounds and the orchards about
His two pet farms was all tricked out
With poppies and posies
And sweet-smellin' rosies;
And hundreds o' kinds
Of all sorts o' vines,
To tickle the most horticultural minds
And little dwarf trees not as thick as your wrist
With ripe apples on 'em as big as your fist:
And peaches,--Siberian crabs and pears,
And quinces--Well! ANY fruit ANY tree bears;
And th purtiest stream--jest a-swimmin' with fish,
And--JEST O'MOST EVERYTHING HEART COULD WISH!
The purtiest orch'rds--I wish you could see
How purty they was, fer I know it 'ud be
A regular treat!--but I'll go ahead with
My story!  A man by the name o' Smith--
(A bad name to rhyme,
But I reckon that I'm
Not goin' back on a Smith! nary time!)
'At hadn't a soul of kin nor kith,
And more money than he knowed what to do with,--
So he comes a-ridin' along one day,
And HE says to Brown, in his offhand way--
Who was trainin' some newfangled vines round a bay-
Winder--"Howdy-do--look-a-here--say:
What'll you take fer this property here?--
I'm talkin' o' leavin' the city this year,
And I want to be
Where the air is free,
And I'll BUY this place, if it ain't too dear!"--
Well--they grumbled and jawed aroun'--
"I don't like to part with the place," says Brown;
"Well," says Smith, a-jerkin' his head,
"That house yonder--bricks painted red--
Jest like this'n--a PURTIER VIEW--
Who is it owns it?"  "That's mine too,"
Says Brown, as he winked at a hole in his shoe,
"But I'll tell you right here jest what I KIN do:--
If you'll pay the figgers I'll sell IT to you.,"
Smith went over and looked at the place--
Badgered with Brown, and argied the case--
Thought that Brown's figgers was rather too tall,
But, findin' that Brown wasn't goin' to fall,
In final agreed,
So they drawed up the deed
Fer the farm and the fixtures--the live stock an' all.
And so Smith moved from the city as soon
As he possibly could--But "the man in the moon"
Knowed more'n Smith o' farmin' pursuits,
And jest to convince you, and have no disputes,
How little he knowed,
I'll tell you his "mode,"
As he called it, o' raisin' "the best that growed,"
In the way o' potatoes--
Cucumbers--tomatoes,
And squashes as lengthy as young alligators.
'Twas allus a curious thing to me
How big a fool a feller kin be
When he gits on a farm after leavin' a town!--
Expectin' to raise himself up to renown,
And reap fer himself agricultural fame,
By growin' of squashes--WITHOUT ANY SHAME--
As useless and long as a technical name.
To make the soil pure,
And certainly sure,
He plastered the ground with patent manure.
He had cultivators, and double-hoss plows,
And patent machines fer milkin' his cows;
And patent hay-forks--patent measures and weights,
And new patent back-action hinges fer gates,
And barn locks and latches, and such little dribs,
And patents to keep the rats out o' the cribs--
Reapers and mowers,
And patent grain sowers;
And drillers
And cucumber hillers,
And horries;--and had patent rollers and scrapers,
And took about ten agricultural papers.
So you can imagine how matters turned out:
But BROWN didn't have not a shadder o' doubt
That Smith didn't know what he was about
When he said that "the OLD way to farm was played out."
But Smith worked ahead,
And when any one said
That the OLD way o' workin' was better instead
O' his "modern idees," he allus turned red,
And wanted to know
What made people so
INFERNALLY anxious to hear theirselves crow?
And guessed that he'd manage to hoe his own row.
Brown he come onc't and leant over the fence,
And told Smith that he couldn't see any sense
In goin' to such a tremendous expense
Fer the sake o' such no-account experiments
"That'll never make corn!
As shore's you're born
It'll come out the leetlest end of the horn!"
Says Brown, as he pulled off a big roastin'-ear
From a stalk of his own
That had tribble outgrown
Smith's poor yaller shoots, and says he, "Looky here!
THIS corn was raised in the old-fashioned way,
And I rather imagine that THIS corn'll pay
Expenses fer RAISIN' it!--What do you say?"
Brown got him then to look over his crop.--
HIS luck that season had been tip-top!
And you may surmise
Smith opened his eyes
And let out a look o' the wildest surprise
When Brown showed him punkins as big as the lies
He was stuffin' him with--about offers he's had
Fer his farm:  "I don't want to sell very bad,"
He says, but says he,
"Mr. Smith, you kin see
Fer yourself how matters is standin' with me,
I UNDERSTAND FARMIN' and I'd better stay,
You know, on my farm;--I'm a-makin' it pay--
I oughtn't to grumble!--I reckon I'll clear
Away over four thousand dollars this year."
And that was the reason, he made it appear,
Why he didn't care about sellin' his farm,
And hinted at his havin' done himself harm
In sellin' the other, and wanted to know
If Smith wouldn't sell back ag'in to him.--So
Smith took the bait, and says he, "Mr. Brown,
I wouldn't SELL out but we might swap aroun'--
How'll you trade your place fer mine?"
(Purty sharp way o' comin' the shine
Over Smith!  Wasn't it?) Well, sir, this Brown
Played out his hand and brought Smithy down--
Traded with him an', workin' it cute,
Raked in two thousand dollars to boot
As slick as a whistle, an' that wasn't all,--
He managed to trade back ag'in the next fall,--
And the next--and the next--as long as Smith stayed
He reaped with his harvests an annual trade.--
Why, I reckon that Brown must 'a' easily made--
On an AVERAGE--nearly two thousand a year--
Together he made over seven thousand--clear.--
Till Mr. Smith found he was losin' his health
In as big a proportion, almost, as his wealth;
So at last he concluded to move back to town,
And sold back his farm to this same Mr. Brown
At very low figgers, by gittin' it down.
Further'n this I have nothin' to say
Than merely advisin' the Smiths fer to stay
In their grocery stores in flourishin' towns
And leave agriculture alone--and the Browns.
 A POET'S WOOING
    I woo'd a woman once,
But she was sharper than an eastern wind.
                        --TENNYSON.
"What may I do to make you glad,
To make you glad and free,
    Till your light smiles glance
    And your bright eyes dance
Like sunbeams on the sea?
    Read some rhyme that is blithe and gay
    Of a bright May morn and a marriage day?"
And she sighed in a listless way she had,--
"Do not read--it will make me sad!"
"What shall I do to make you glad--
To make you glad and gay,
    Till your eyes gleam bright
    As the stars at night
When as light as the light of day
    Sing some song as I twang the strings
    Of my sweet guitar through its wanderings?"
And she sighed in the weary way she had,--
"Do not sing--it will make me sad!"
"What can I do to make you glad--
As glad as glad can be,
    Till your clear eyes seem
    Like the rays that gleam
And glint through a dew-decked tree?--
    Will it please you, dear, that I now begin
    A grand old air on my violin?"
And she spoke again in the following way,--
    "Yes, oh yes, it would please me, sir;
I would be so glad you'd play
    Some grand old march--in character,--
And then as you march away
I will no longer thus be sad,
But oh, so glad--so glad--so glad!"
MAN'S DEVOTION
A lover said, "O Maiden, love me well,
For I must go away:
And should ANOTHER ever come to tell
Of love--What WILL you say?"
And she let fall a royal robe of hair
That folded on his arm
And made a golden pillow for her there;
Her face--as bright a charm
As ever setting held in kingly crown--
Made answer with a look,
And reading it, the lover bended down,
And, trusting, "kissed the book."
He took a fond farewell and went away.
And slow the time went by--
So weary--dreary was it, day by day
To love, and wait, and sigh.
She kissed his pictured face sometimes, and said:
    "O Lips, so cold and dumb,
I would that you would tell me, if not dead,
    Why, why do you not come?"
The picture, smiling, stared her in the face
    Unmoved--e'en with the touch
Of tear-drops--HERS--bejeweling the case--
    'Twas plain--she loved him much.
And, thus she grew to think of him as gay
    And joyous all the while,
And SHE was sorrowing--"Ah, welladay!"
    But pictures ALWAYS smile!
And years--dull years--in dull monotony
    As ever went and came,
Still weaving changes on unceasingly,
    And changing, changed her name.
Was she untrue?--She oftentimes was glad
    And happy as a wife;
But ONE remembrance oftentimes made sad
    Her matrimonial life.--
Though its few years were hardly noted, when
    Again her path was strown
With thorns--the roses swept away again,
    And she again alone!
And then--alas! ah THEN!--her lover came:
    "I come to claim you now--
My Darling, for I know you are the same,
    And I have kept my vow
Through these long, long, long years, and now no more
    Shall we asundered be!"
She staggered back and, sinking to the floor,
    Cried in her agony:
"I have been false!" she moaned, "_I_ am not true--
    I am not worthy now,
Nor ever can I be a wife to YOU--
    For I have broke my vow!"
And as she kneeled there, sobbing at his feet,
    He calmly spoke--no sign
Betrayed his inward agony--"I count you meet
    To be a wife of mine!"
And raised her up forgiven, though untrue;
    As fond he gazed on her,
She sighed,--"SO HAPPY!"  And she never knew
    HE was a WIDOWER.
WITH A SERIOUS CONCLUSION
Crowd about me, little children--
    Come and cluster 'round my knee
While I tell a little story
    That happened once with me.
My father he had gone away
    A-sailing on the foam,
Leaving me--the merest infant--
    And my mother dear at home;
For my father was a sailor,
    And he sailed the ocean o'er
For full five years ere yet again
    He reached his native shore.
And I had grown up rugged
    And healthy day by day,
Though I was but a puny babe
    When father went away.
Poor mother she would kiss me
    And look at me and sigh
So strangely, oft I wondered
    And would ask the reason why.
And she would answer sadly,
    Between her sobs and tears,--
"You look so like your father,
    Far away so many years!"
And then she would caress me
    And brush my hair away,
And tell me not to question,
    But to run about my play.
Thus I went playing thoughtfully--
    For that my mother said,--
"YOU LOOK SO LIKE YOUR FATHER!"
    Kept ringing in my head.
So, ranging once the golden sands
    That looked out on the sea,
I called aloud, "My father dear,
    Come back to ma and me!"
Then I saw a glancing shadow
    On the sand, and heard the shriek
Of a sea-gull flying seaward,
    And I heard a gruff voice speak:--
"Ay, ay, my little shipmate,
    I thought I heard you hail;
Were you trumpeting that sea-gull,
    Or do you see a sail?"
And as rough and gruff a sailor
    As ever sailed the sea
Was standing near grotesquely
    And leering dreadfully.
I replied, though I was frightened,
    "It was my father dear
I was calling for across the sea--
    I think he didn't hear."
And then the sailor leered again
    In such a frightful way,
And made so many faces
    I was little loath to stay:
But he started fiercely toward me--
    Then made a sudden halt
And roared, "_I_ think he heard you!"
    And turned a somersault.
Then a wild fear overcame me,
    And I flew off like the wind,
Shrieking "MOTHER!"--and the sailor
    Just a little way behind!
And then my mother heard me,
    And I saw her shade her eyes,
Looking toward me from the doorway,
    Transfixed with pale surprise
For a moment--then her features
    Glowed with all their wonted charms
As the sailor overtook me,
    And I fainted in her arms.
When I awoke to reason
    I shuddered with affright
Till I felt my mother's presence
    With a thrill of wild delight--
Till, amid a shower of kisses
    Falling glad as summer rain,
A muffled thunder rumbled,--
    "Is he coming 'round again?"
Then I shrieked and clung unto her,
    While her features flushed and burned
As she told me it was father
    From a foreign land returned.
.     .     .     .     .     .     .
I said--when I was calm again,
    And thoughtfully once more
Had dwelt upon my mother's words
    Of just the day before,--
"I DON'T look like my father,
    As you told me yesterday--
I know I don't--or father
    Would have run the other way."
THE OLD TIMES WERE THE BEST
Friends, my heart is half aweary
    Of its happiness to-night:
Though your songs are gay and cheery,
    And your spirits feather-light,
There's a ghostly music haunting
    Still the heart of every guest
And a voiceless chorus chanting
    That the Old Times were the best.
        CHORUS
All about is bright and pleasant
    With the sound of song and jest,
Yet a feeling's ever present
    That the Old Times were the best.
A SUMMER AFTERNOON
A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze,
    With labored respiration, moves the wheat
From distant reaches, till the golden seas
    Break in crisp whispers at my feet.
My book, neglected of an idle mind,
    Hides for a moment from the eyes of men;
Or lightly opened by a critic wind,
    Affrightedly reviews itself again.
Off through the haze that dances in the shine
    The warm sun showers in the open glade,
The forest lies, a silhouette design
    Dimmed through and through with shade.
A dreamy day; and tranquilly I lie
    At anchor from all storms of mental strain;
With absent vision, gazing at the sky,
    "Like one that hears it rain."
The Katydid, so boisterous last night,
    Clinging, inverted, in uneasy poise,
Beneath a wheat-blade, has forgotten quite
    If "Katy DID or DIDN'T" make a noise.
The twitter, sometimes, of a wayward bird
    That checks the song abruptly at the sound,
And mildly, chiding echoes that have stirred,
    Sink into silence, all the more profound.
And drowsily I hear the plaintive strain
    Of some poor dove . . . Why, I can scarcely keep
My heavy eyelids--there it is again--
    "Coo-coo!"--I mustn't--"Coo-coo!"--fall asleep!
A dark, tempestuous night; the stars shut in
    With shrouds of fog; an inky, jet-black blot
The firmament; and where the moon has been
    An hour agone seems like the darkest spot.
The weird wind--furious at its demon game--
Rattles one's fancy like a window-frame.
A care-worn face peers out into the dark,
    And childish faces--frightened at the gloom--
Grow awed and vacant as they turn to mark
    The father's as he passes through the room:
The gate latch clatters, and wee baby Bess
Whispers, "The doctor's tummin' now, I dess!"
The father turns; a sharp, swift flash of pain
    Flits o'er his face: "Amanda, child! I said
A moment since--I see I must AGAIN--
    Go take your little sisters off to bed!
There, Effie, Rose, and CLARA MUSTN'T CRY!"
"I tan't he'p it--I'm fyaid 'at mama'll die!"
What are his feelings, when this man alone
    Sits in the silence, glaring in the grate
That sobs and sighs on in an undertone
    As stoical--immovable as Fate,
While muffled voices from the sick one's room
Come in like heralds of a dreaded doom?
The door-latch jingles: in the doorway stands
    The doctor, while the draft puffs in a breath--
The dead coals leap to life, and clap their hands,
    The flames flash up.  A face as pale as death
Turns slowly--teeth tight clenched, and with a look
The doctor, through his specs, reads like a book.
"Come, brace up, Major!"--"Let me know the worst!"
    "W'y you're the biggest fool I ever saw--
Here, Major--take a little brandy first--
    There!  She's a BOY--I mean HE is--hurrah!"
"Wake up the other girls--and shout for joy--
Eureka is his name--I've found A BOY!"
FARMER WHIPPLE--BACHELOR
It's a mystery to see me--a man o' fifty-four,
Who's lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year' and more--
A-lookin' glad and smilin'!  And they's none o' you can say
That you can guess the reason why I feel so good to-day!
I must tell you all about it!  But I'll have to deviate
A little in beginnin', so's to set the matter straight
As to how it comes to happen that I never took a wife--
Kindo' "crawfish" from the Present to the Springtime of my life!
I was brought up in the country:  Of a family of five--
Three brothers and a sister--I'm the only one alive,--
Fer they all died little babies; and 'twas one o' Mother's ways,
You know, to want a daughter; so she took a girl to raise.
The sweetest little thing she was, with rosy cheeks, and fat--
We was little chunks o' shavers then about as high as that!
But someway we sort a' SUITED-like! and Mother she'd declare
She never laid her eyes on a more lovin' pair
Than WE was!  So we growed up side by side fer thirteen year',
And every hour of it she growed to me more dear!--
W'y, even Father's dyin', as he did, I do believe
Warn't more affectin' to me than it was to see her grieve!
I was then a lad o' twenty; and I felt a flash o' pride
In thinkin' all depended on ME now to pervide
Fer Mother and fer Mary; and I went about the place
With sleeves rolled up--and workin', with a mighty smilin'
Fer SOMEPIN' ELSE was workin'! but not a word I said 
Of a certain sort o' notion that was runnin' through my head,--
"Some day I'd maybe marry, and a BROTHER'S love was one
Thing--a LOVER'S was another!" was the way the notion run!
I remember onc't in harvest, when the "cradle-in' " was done,
(When the harvest of my summers mounted up to twenty-one),
I was ridin' home with Mary at the closin' o' the day--
A-chawin' straws and thinkin', in a lover's lazy way!
And Mary's cheeks was burnin' like the sunset down the lane:
I noticed she was thinkin', too, and ast her to explain.
Well--when she turned and KISSED ME, WITH HER ARMS AROUND
I'd a bigger load o' Heaven than I had a load o' straw!
I don't p'tend to learnin', but I'll tell you what's a fac',
They's a mighty truthful sayin' somers in a' almanac--
Er SOMERS--'bout "puore happiness"--perhaps some folks'll laugh
At the idy--"only lastin' jest two seconds and a half."--
But it's jest as true as preachin'!--fer that was a SISTER'S
And a sister's lovin' confidence a-tellin' to me this:--
"SHE was happy, BEIN' PROMISED TO THE SON O' FARMER BROWN."--
And my feelin's struck a pardnership with sunset and went down!
I don't know HOW I acted, and I don't know WHAT I said,--
Fer my heart seemed jest a-turnin' to an ice-cold lump o' lead;
And the hosses kind o'glimmered before me in the road,
And the lines fell from my fingers--And that was all I knowed--
Fer--well, I don't know HOW long--They's a dim rememberence
Of a sound o' snortin' horses, and a stake-and-ridered fence
A-whizzin' past, and wheat-sheaves a-dancin' in the air,
And Mary screamin' "Murder!" and a-runnin' up to where
_I_ was layin' by the roadside, and the wagon upside down
A-leanin' on the gate-post, with the wheels a-whirlin' roun'!
And I tried to raise and meet her, but I couldn't, with a vague
Sort o' notion comin' to me that I had a broken leg.
Well, the women nussed me through it; but many a time I'd sigh
As I'd keep a-gittin' better instid o' goin' to die,
And wonder what was left ME worth livin' fer below,
When the girl I loved was married to another, don't you know!
And my thoughts was as rebellious as the folks was good and kind
When Brown and Mary married--Railly must 'a' been my MIND
Was kind o' out o' kilter!--fer I hated Brown, you see,
Worse'n PIZEN--and the feller whittled crutches out fer ME--
And done a thousand little ac's o' kindness and respec'--
And me a-wishin' all the time that I could break his neck!
My relief was like a mourner's when the funeral is done
When they moved to Illinois in the Fall o' Forty-one.
Then I went to work in airnest--I had nothin' much in view
But to drownd out rickollections--and it kep' me busy, too!
But I slowly thrived and prospered, tel Mother used to say
She expected yit to see me a wealthy man some day.
Then I'd think how little MONEY was, compared to happiness--
And who'd be left to use it when I died I couldn't guess!
But I've still kep' speculatin' and a-gainin' year by year,
Tel I'm payin' half the taxes in the county, mighty near!
Well!--A year ago er better, a letter comes to hand
Astin' how I'd like to dicker fer some Illinois land--
"The feller that had owned it," it went ahead to state,
"Had jest deceased, insolvent, leavin' chance to speculate,"--
And then it closed by sayin' that I'd "better come and see."--
I'd never been West, anyhow--a'most too wild fer ME,
I'd allus had a notion; but a lawyer here in town
Said I'd find myself mistakend when I come to look around.
So I bids good-by to Mother, and I jumps aboard the train,
A-thinkin' what I'd bring her when I come back home again--
And ef she'd had an idy what the present was to be,
I think it's more'n likely she'd 'a' went along with me!
Cars is awful tejus ridin', fer all they go so fast!
But finally they called out my stoppin'-place at last:
And that night, at the tavern, I dreamp' I was a train
O' cars, and SKEERED at somepin', runnin' down a country lane!
Well, in the morning airly--after huntin' up the man--
The lawyer who was wantin' to swap the piece o' land--
We started fer the country; and I ast the history
Of the farm--its former owner--and so forth, etcetery!
And--well--it was interESTin'--I su'prised him, I suppose,
By the loud and frequent manner in which I blowed my nose!--
But his su'prise was greater, and it made him wonder more,
When I kissed and hugged the widder when she met us at the
IT WAS MARY: . . . They's a feelin' a-hidin' down in here--
Of course I can't explain it, ner ever make it clear.--
It was with us in that meetin', I don't want you to fergit!
And it makes me kind o'nervous when I think about it yit!
I BOUGHT that farm, and DEEDED it, afore I left the town
With "title clear to mansions in the skies," to Mary Brown!
And fu'thermore, I took her and the CHILDERN--fer you see,
They'd never seed their Grandma--and I fetched 'em home with me.
So NOW you've got an idy why a man o' fifty-four,
Who's lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year' and more
Is a-lookin' glad and smilin'!--And I've jest come into town
To git a pair o' license fer to MARRY Mary Brown.
MY JOLLY FRIEND'S SECRET
Ah, friend of mine, how goes it,
    Since you've taken you a mate?--
Your smile, though, plainly shows it
    Is a very happy state!
Dan Cupid's necromancy!
    You must sit you down and dine,
And lubricate your fancy
    With a glass or two of wine.
And as you have "deserted,"
    As my other chums have done,
While I laugh alone diverted,
    As you drop off one by one--
And I've remained unwedded,
    Till--you see--look here--that I'm,
In a manner, "snatched bald-headed"
    By the sportive hand of Time!
I'm an "old 'un!" yes, but wrinkles
    Are not so plenty, quite,
As to cover up the twinkles
    Of the BOY--ain't I right?
Yet, there are ghosts of kisses
    Under this mustache of mine
My mem'ry only misses
    When I drown 'em out with wine.
From acknowledgment so ample,
    You would hardly take me for
What I am--a perfect sample
    Of a "jolly bachelor";
Not a bachelor has being
    When he laughs at married life
But his heart and soul's agreeing
    That he ought to have a wife!
Ah, ha I old chum, this claret,
    Like Fatima, holds the key
Of the old Blue-Beardish garret
    Of my hidden mystery!
Did you say you'd like to listen?
    Ah, my boy! the "SAD NO MORE!"
And the tear-drops that will glisten--
    TURN THE CATCH UPON THE DOOR,
And sit you down beside me,
    And put yourself at ease--
I'll trouble you to slide me
    That wine decanter, please;
The path is kind o' mazy
    Where my fancies have to go,
And my heart gets sort o' lazy
    On the journey--don't you know?
Let me see--when I was twenty--
    It's a lordly age, my boy,
When a fellow's money's plenty,
    And the leisure to enjoy--
And a girl--with hair as golden
    As--THAT; and lips--well--quite
As red as THIS I'm holdin'
    Between you and the light.
And eyes and a complexion--
    Ah, heavens!--le'-me-see--
Well,--just in this connection,--
    DID YOU LOCK THAT DOOR FOR ME?
Did I start in recitation
    My past life to recall?
Well, THAT'S an indication
    I am purty tight--that's all!
THE SPEEDING OF THE KING'S SPITE
A king--estranged from his loving Queen
    By a foolish royal whim--
Tired and sick of the dull routine
    Of matters surrounding him--
Issued a mandate in this wise.--
    "THE DOWER OF MY DAUGHTER'S HAND
I WILL GIVE TO HIM WHO HOLDS THIS PRIZE,
    THE STRANGEST THING IN THE LAND."
But the King, sad sooth! in this grim decree
    Had a motive low and mean;--
'Twas a royal piece of chicanery
    To harry and spite the Queen;
For King though he was, and beyond compare,
    He had ruled all things save one--
Then blamed the Queen that his only heir
    Was a daughter--not a son.
The girl had grown, in the mother's care,
    Like a bud in the shine and shower
That drinks of the wine of the balmy air
    Till it blooms into matchless flower;
Her waist was the rose's stem that bore
    The flower--and the flower's perfume--
That ripens on till it bulges o'er
    With its wealth of bud and bloom.
And she had a lover--lowly sprung,--
    But a purer, nobler heart
Never spake in a courtlier tongue
    Or wooed with a dearer art:
And the fair pair paled at the King's decree;
    But the smiling Fates contrived
To have them wed, in a secrecy
    That the Queen HERSELF connived--
While the grim King's heralds scoured the land
    And the countries roundabout,
Shouting aloud, at the King's command,
    A challenge to knave or lout,
Prince or peasant,--"The mighty King
    Would have ye understand
That he who shows him the strangest thing
    Shall have his daughter's hand!"
And thousands flocked to the royal throne,
    Bringing a thousand things
Strange and curious;--One, a bone--
    The hinge of a fairy's wings;
And one, the glass of a mermaid queen,
    Gemmed with a diamond dew,
Where, down in its reflex, dimly seen,
    Her face smiled out at you.
One brought a cluster of some strange date,
    With a subtle and searching tang
That seemed, as you tasted, to penetrate
    The heart like a serpent's fang;
And back you fell for a spell entranced,
    As cold as a corpse of stone,
And heard your brains, as they laughed and danced
    And talked in an undertone.
One brought a bird that could whistle a tune
    So piercingly pure and sweet,
That tears would fall from the eyes of the moon
    In dewdrops at its feet;
And the winds would sigh at the sweet refrain,
    Till they swooned in an ecstacy,
To waken again in a hurricane
    Of riot and jubilee.
One brought a lute that was wrought of a shell
    Luminous as the shine
Of a new-born star in a dewy dell,--
    And its strings were strands of wine
That sprayed at the Fancy's touch and fused,
    As your listening spirit leant
Drunken through with the airs that oozed
    From the o'ersweet instrument.
One brought a tablet of ivory
    Whereon no thing was writ,--
But, at night--and the dazzled eyes would see
    Flickering lines o'er it,--
And each, as you read from the magic tome,
    Lightened and died in flame,
And the memory held but a golden poem
    Too beautiful to name.
Till it seemed all marvels that ever were known
    Or dreamed of under the sun
Were brought and displayed at the royal throne,
    And put by, one by one
Till a graybeard monster came to the King--
    Haggard and wrinkled and old--
And spread to his gaze this wondrous thing,--
    A gossamer veil of gold.--
Strangely marvelous--mocking the gaze
    Like a tangle of bright sunshine,
Dipping a million glittering rays
    In a baptism divine:
And a maiden, sheened in this gauze attire--
    Sifting a glance of her eye--
Dazzled men's souls with a fierce desire
    To kiss and caress her and--die.
And the grim King swore by his royal beard
    That the veil had won the prize,
While the gray old monster blinked and leered
    With his lashless, red-rimmed eyes,
As the fainting form of the princess fell,
    And the mother's heart went wild,
Throbbing and swelling a muffled knell
    For the dead hopes of her child.
But her clouded face with a faint smile shone,
    As suddenly, through the throng,
Pushing his way to the royal throne,
    A fair youth strode along,
While a strange smile hovered about his eyes,
    As he said to the grim old King:--
"The veil of gold must lose the prize;
    For _I_ have a stranger thing."
He bent and whispered a sentence brief;
    But the monarch shook his head,
With a look expressive of unbelief--
    "It can't be so," he said;
"Or give me proof; and I, the King,
    Give you my daughter's hand,--
For certes THAT IS a stranger thing--
    THE STRANGEST THING IN THE LAND!"
Then the fair youth, turning, caught the Queen
    In a rapturous caress,
While his lithe form towered in lordly mien,
    As he said in a brief address:--
"My fair bride's mother is this; and, lo,
    As you stare in your royal awe,
By this pure kiss do I proudly show
    A LOVE FOR A MOTHER-IN-LAW!"
Then a thaw set in the old King's mood,
    And a sweet Spring freshet came
Into his eyes, and his heart renewed
    Its love for the favored dame:
But often he has been heard to declare
    That "he never could clearly see
How, in the deuce, such a strange affair
    Could have ended so happily!"
"Write me a rhyme of the present time".
    And the poet took his pen
And wrote such lines as the miser minds
    Hide in the hearts of men.
He grew enthused, as the poets used
    When their fingers kissed the strings
Of some sweet lyre, and caught the fire
    True inspiration brings,
And sang the song of a nation's wrong--
    Of the patriot's galling chain,
And the glad release that the angel, Peace,
    Has given him again.
He sang the lay of religion's sway,
    Where a hundred creeds clasp hands
And shout in glee such a symphony
    That the whole world understands.
He struck the key of monopoly,
    And sang of her swift decay,
And traveled the track of the railway back
    With a blithesome roundelay--
Of the tranquil bliss of a true love kiss;
    And painted the picture, too,
Of the wedded life, and the patient wife,
    And the husband fond and true;
And sang the joy that a noble boy
    Brings to a father's soul,
Who lets the wine as a mocker shine
    Stagnated in the bowl.
And he stabbed his pen in the ink again,
    And wrote with a writhing frown,
"This is the end."  "And now, my friend,
    You may print it--upside down!"
PRIVATE THEATRICALS
A quite convincing axiom
    Is, "Life is like a play";
For, turning back its pages some
    Few dog-eared years away,
        I find where I
        Committed my
Love-tale--with brackets where to sigh.
I feel an idle interest
    To read again the page;
I enter, as a lover dressed,
    At twenty years of age,
        And play the part
        With throbbing heart,
And all an actor's glowing art.
And she who plays my Lady-love
    Excels!--Her loving glance
Has power her audience to move--
    I am her audience.--
        Her acting tact,
        To tell the fact,
"Brings down the house" in every act.
And often we defy the curse
    Of storms and thunder-showers,
To meet together and rehearse
    This little play of ours--
        I think, when she
        "Makes love" to me,
She kisses very naturally!
    .    .    .    .    .    .
Yes; it's convincing--rather--
    That "Life is like a play":
I am playing "Heavy Father"
    In a "Screaming Farce" to-day,
        That so "brings down
        The house," I frown,
And fain would "ring the curtain down."
PLAIN SERMONS
I saw a man--and envied him beside--
    Because of this world's goods he had great store;
But even as I envied him, he died,
    And left me envious of him no more.
I saw another man--and envied still--
    Because he was content with frugal lot;
But as I envied him, the rich man's will
    Bequeathed him all, and envy I forgot.
Yet still another man I saw, and he
    I envied for a calm and tranquil mind
That nothing fretted in the least degree--
    Until, alas! I found that he was blind.
What vanity is envy! for I find
    I have been rich in dross of thought, and poor 
In that I was a fool, and lastly blind
    For never having seen myself before!
"TRADIN' JOE"
I'm one o' these cur'ous kind o' chaps
You think you know when you don't, perhaps!
I hain't no fool--ner I don't p'tend
To be so smart I could rickommend
Myself fer a CONGERSSMAN my friend!--
But I'm kind o' betwixt-and-between, you know,--
One o' these fellers 'at folks call "slow."
And I'll say jest here I'm kind o' queer
Regardin' things 'at I SEE and HEAR,--
Fer I'm THICK o' hearin' SOMETIMES, and
It's hard to git me to understand;
But other times it hain't, you bet!
Fer I don't sleep with both eyes shet!
I've swapped a power in stock, and so
The neighbers calls me "Tradin' Joe"--
And I'm goin' to tell you 'bout a trade,--
And one o' the best I ever made:
Folks has gone so fur's to say
'At I'm well fixed, in a WORLDLY way,
And BEIN' so, and a WIDOWER,
It's not su'prisin', as you'll infer,
I'm purty handy among the sect--
Widders especially, rickollect!
And I won't deny that along o' late
I've hankered a heap fer the married state--
But some way o' 'nother the longer we wait
The harder it is to discover a mate.
Marshall Thomas,--a friend o' mine,
Doin' some in the tradin' line,
But a'most too YOUNG to know it all--
On'y at PICNICS er some BALL!--
Says to me, in a banterin' way,
As 'we was a-loadin' stock one day,--
"You're a-huntin' a wife, and I want you to see
My girl's mother, at Kankakee!--
She hain't over forty--good-lookin' and spry,
And jest the woman to fill your eye!
And I'm a-goin' there Sund'y,--and now," says he,
"I want to take you along with ME;
And you marry HER, and," he says, "by 'shaw I
You'll hev me fer yer son-in-law!"
I studied a while, and says I, "Well, I'll
First have to see ef she suits my style;
And ef she does, you kin bet your life
Your mother-in-law will be my wife!"
Well, Sundy come; and I fixed up some--
Putt on a collar--I did, by gum!--
Got down my "plug," and my satin vest--
(You wouldn't know me to see me dressed!--
But any one knows ef you got the clothes
You kin go in the crowd wher' the best of 'em goes!)
And I greeced my boots, and combed my hair
Keerfully over the bald place there;
And Marshall Thomas and me that day
Eat our dinners with Widder Gray
And her girl Han'!  *  *  *
            Well, jest a glance
O' the widder's smilin' countenance,
A-cuttin' up chicken and big pot-pies,
Would make a man hungry in Paradise!
And passin' p'serves and jelly and cake
'At would make an ANGEL'S appetite ACHE!--
Pourin' out coffee as yaller as gold--
Twic't as much as the cup could hold--
La! it was rich!--And then she'd say,
"Take some o' THIS!' in her coaxin' way,
Tell ef I'd been a hoss I'd 'a' FOUNDERED, shore,
And jest dropped dead on her white-oak floor!
Well, the way I talked would 'a' done you good,
Ef you'd 'a' been there to 'a' understood;
Tel I noticed Hanner and Marshall, they
Was a-noticin' me in a cur'ous way;
So I says to myse'f, says I, "Now, Joe,
The best thing fer you is to jest go slow!"
And I simmered down, and let them do
The bulk o' the talkin' the evening through.
And Marshall was still in a talkative gait
When he left, that evening--tolable late.
"How do you like her?" he says to me;
Says I, "She suits, to a 'T-Y-TEE'!
And then I ast how matters stood
With him in the OPPOSITE neighberhood?
"Bully!" he says; "I ruther guess
I'll finally git her to say the 'yes.'
I named it to her to-night, and she
Kind o' smiled, and said 'SHE'D SEE'--
And that's a purty good sign!" says he:
"Yes" says I, "you're ahead o' ME!"
And then he laughed, and said, "GO IN!
And patted me on the shoulder ag'in.
Well, ever sense then I've been ridin' a good
Deal through the Kankakee neighberhood;
And I make it convenient sometimes to stop
And hitch a few minutes, and kind o' drop
In at the widder's, and talk o' the crop
And one thing o' 'nother.  And week afore last
The notion struck me, as I drove past,
I'd stop at the place and state my case--
Might as well do it at first as last!
I felt first-rate; so I hitched at the gate,
And went up to the house; and, strange to relate,
MARSHALL THOMAS had dropped in, TOO.--
"Glad to see you, sir, how do you do?"
He says, says he!  Well--it SOUNDED QUEER:
And when Han' told me to take a cheer,
Marshall got up and putt out o' the room--
And motioned his hand fer the WIDDER to come.
I didn't say nothin' fer quite a spell,
But thinks I to myse'f, "There's a dog in the well!"
And Han' SHE smiled so cur'ous at me--
Says I, "What's up?"  And she says, says she,
"Marshall's been at me to marry ag'in,
And I told him 'no,' jest as you come in."
Well, somepin' o' 'nother in that girl's voice
Says to me, "Joseph, here's your choice!"
And another minute her guileless breast
Was lovin'ly throbbin' ag'in my vest!--
And then I kissed her, and heerd a smack
Come like a' echo a-flutterin' back,
And we looked around, and in full view
Marshall was kissin' the widder, too!
Well, we all of us laughed, in our glad su'prise,
Tel the tears come A-STREAMIN' out of our eyes!
And when Marsh said "'Twas the squarest trade
That ever me and him had made,"
We both shuck hands, 'y jucks! and swore
We'd stick together ferevermore.
And old Squire Chipman tuck us the trip:
And Marshall and me's in pardnership!
DOT LEEDLE BOY
Ot's a leedle Gristmas story
    Dot I told der leedle folks--
Und I vant you stop dot laughin'
    Und grackin' funny jokes!--
So help me Peter-Moses!
    Ot's no time for monkey-shine,
Ober I vast told you somedings
    Of dot leedle boy of mine!
Ot vas von cold Vinter vedder,
    Ven der snow vas all about--
Dot you have to chop der hatchet
    Eef you got der sauerkraut!
Und der cheekens on der hind leg
    Vas standin' in der shine
Der sun shmile out dot morning
    On dot leedle boy of mine.
He vas yoost a leedle baby
    Not bigger as a doll
Dot time I got acquaintet--
    Ach! you ought to heard 'im squall!--
I grackys! dot's der moosic
    Ot make me feel so fine
Ven first I vas been marriet--
    Oh, dot leedle boy of mine!
He look yoost like his fader!--
    So, ven der vimmen said,
"Vot a purty leedle baby!"
    Katrina shake der head. . . .
I dink she must 'a' notice
    Dot der baby vas a-gryin',
Und she cover up der blankets
    Of dot leedle boy of mine.
Vel, ven he vas got bigger,
    Dot he grawl und bump his nose,
Und make der table over,
    Und molasses on his glothes--
Dot make 'im all der sveeter,--
    So I say to my Katrine,
"Better you vas quit a-shpankin'
    Dot leedle boy of mine!"
No more he vas older
    As about a dozen months
He speak der English language
    Und der German--bote at vonce!
Und he dringk his glass of lager
    Like a Londsman fon der Rhine--
Und I klingk my glass togeder
    Mit dot leedle boy of mine!
I vish you could 'a' seen id--
    Ven he glimb up on der chair
Und shmash der lookin'-glasses
    Ven he try to comb his hair
Mit a hammer!--Und Katrina
    Say, "Dot's an ugly sign!"
But I laugh und vink my fingers
    At dot leedle boy of mine.
But vonce, dot Vinter morning,
    He shlip out in der snow
Mitout no stockin's on 'im.--
    He say he "vant to go
Und fly some mit der birdies!"
    Und ve give 'im medi-cine
Ven he catch der "parrygoric"--
    Dot leedle boy of mine!
Und so I set und nurse 'im,
    Vile der Gristmas vas come roun',
Und I told 'im 'bout "Kriss Kringle,"
    How he come der chimbly down:
Und I ask 'im eef he love 'im
    Eef he bring 'im someding fine?
"Nicht besser as mein fader,"
    Say dot leedle boy of mine.--
Und he put his arms aroun' me
    Und hug so close und tight,
I hear der gclock a-tickin'
    All der balance of der night! .  .  .
Someding make me feel so funny
    Ven I say to my Katrine,
"Let us go und fill der stockin's
    Of dot leedle boy of mine."
Vell.--Ve buyed a leedle horses
    Dot you pull 'im mit a shtring,
Und a leedle fancy jay-bird--
    Eef you vant to hear 'im sing
You took 'im by der topknot
    Und yoost blow in behine--
Und dot make much spectakel
    For dot leedle boy of mine!
Und gandies, nuts und raizens--
    Und I buy a leedle drum
Dot I vant to hear 'im rattle
    Ven der Gristmas morning come!
Und a leedle shmall tin rooster
    Dot vould crow so loud und fine
Ven he sqveeze 'im in der morning,
    Dot leedle boy of mine!
Und--vile ve vas a-fixin'--
    Dot leedle boy vake out!
I t'ought he been a-dreamin'
    "Kriss Kringle" vas about,--
For he say--"DOT'S HIM!--I SEE 'IM
    MIT DER SHTARS DOT MAKE DER SHINE!"
Und he yoost keep on a-gryin'--
    Dot leedle boy of mine,--
Und gottin' vorse und vorser--
    Und tumble on der bed!
So--ven der doctor seen id,
    He kindo' shake his head,
Und feel his pulse--und visper,
    "Der boy is a-dyin'."
You dink I could BELIEVE id?--
    DOT LEEDLE BOY OF MINE?
I told you, friends--dot's someding,
    Der last time dot he speak
Und say, "GOOT-BY, KRISS KRINGLE!"
    --Dot make me feel so veak
I yoost kneel down und drimble,
    Und bur-sed out a-gryin',
"MEIN GOTT, MEIN GOTT IN HIMMEL!--
    DOT LEEDLE BOY OF MINE!"
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
Der sun don't shine DOT Gristmas!
    . . . Eef dot leedle boy vould LIFF'D--
No deefer-en'! for HEAVEN vas
    His leedle Gristmas gift!
Und der ROOSTER, und der GANDY,
    Und me--und my Katrine--
Und der jay-bird--is awaiting
    For dot leedle boy of mine.
I SMOKE MY PIPE
I can't extend to every friend
    In need a helping hand--
No matter though I wish it so,
    'Tis not as Fortune planned;
But haply may I fancy they
    Are men of different stripe
Than others think who hint and wink,--
    And so--I smoke my pipe!
A golden coal to crown the bowl--
    My pipe and I alone,--
I sit and muse with idler views
    Perchance than I should own:--
It might be worse to own the purse
    Whose glutted bowels gripe
In little qualms of stinted alms;
    And so I smoke my pipe.
And if inclined to moor my mind
    And cast the anchor Hope,
A puff of breath will put to death
    The morbid misanthrope
That lurks inside--as errors hide
    In standing forms of type
To mar at birth some line of worth;
    And so I smoke my pipe.
The subtle stings misfortune flings
    Can give me little pain
When my narcotic spell has wrought
    This quiet in my brain:
When I can waste the past in taste
    So luscious and so ripe
That like an elf I hug myself;
    And so I smoke my pipe.
And wrapped in shrouds of drifting clouds,
    I watch the phantom's flight,
Till alien eyes from Paradise
    Smile on me as I write:
And I forgive the wrongs that live,
    As lightly as I wipe
Away the tear that rises here;
    And so I smoke my pipe.
RED RIDING-HOOD
Sweet little myth of the nursery story--
    Earliest love of mine infantile breast,
Be something tangible, bloom in thy glory
    Into existence, as thou art addressed!
Hasten! appear to me, guileless and good--
    Thou are so dear to me, Red Riding-Hood!
Azure-blue eyes, in a marvel of wonder,
    Over the dawn of a blush breaking out;
Sensitive nose, with a little smile under
    Trying to hide in a blossoming pout--
Couldn't be serious, try as you would,
    Little mysterious Red Riding-Hood!
Hah! little girl, it is desolate, lonely,
    Out in this gloomy old forest of Life!--
Here are not pansies and buttercups only--
    Brambles and briers as keen as a knife;
And a Heart, ravenous, trails in the wood
For the meal have he must,--Red Riding-Hood!
IF I KNEW WHAT POETS KNOW
If I knew what poets know,
    Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
    In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
    Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
    When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
    I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
    Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE
An old sweetheart of mine!--Is this her presence here with me,
Or but a vain creation of a lover's memory?
A fair, illusive vision that would vanish into air
Dared I even touch the silence with the whisper of a prayer?
Nay, let me then believe in all the blended false and true--
The semblance of the OLD love and the substance of the NEW,--
The THEN of changeless sunny days--the NOW of shower and shine--
But Love forever smiling--as that old sweetheart of mine.
This ever-restful sense of HOME, though shouts ring in the
The easy chair--the old book-shelves and prints along the wall;
The rare HABANAS in their box, or gaunt church-warden-stem
That often wags, above the jar, derisively at them.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album, all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till, in shadowy design,
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.
The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low--to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tobacco and to vanish with the smoke.
'Tis a FRAGRANT retrospection,--for the loving thoughts that
Into being are like perfume from the blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine--
When my truant fancies wander with that old sweetheart of mine.
Though I hear beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings,
The voices of my children and the mother as she sings--
I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme
When Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream--
In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm
To spice the good a trifle with a little dust of harm,--
For I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine
That makes me drink the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.
O Childhood-days enchanted!  O the magic of the Spring!--
With all green boughs to blossom white, and all bluebirds to
When all the air, to toss and quaff, made life a jubilee
And changed the children's song and laugh to shrieks of ecstasy.
With eyes half closed in clouds that ooze from lips that taste,
The peppermint and cinnamon, I hear the old School bell,
And from "Recess" romp in again from "Black-man's" broken line,
To smile, behind my "lesson," at that old sweetheart of mine.
A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy grace,
Floats out of my tobacco as the Genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.
I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress
She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress
With the written declaration that, "as surely as the vine
Grew 'round the stump," she loved me--that old sweetheart of
Again I made her presents, in a really helpless way,--
The big "Rhode Island Greening"--I was hungry, too, that day!--
But I follow her from Spelling, with her hand behind her--so--
And I slip the apple in it--and the Teacher doesn't know!
I give my TREASURES to her--all,--my pencil--blue-and-red;--
And, if little girls played marbles, MINE should all be HERS,
But SHE gave me her PHOTOGRAPH, and printed "Ever Thine"
Across the back--in blue-and-red--that old sweet-heart of mine!
And again I feel the pressure of her slender little hand,
As we used to talk together of the future we had planned,--
When I should be a poet, and with nothing else to do
But write the tender verses that she set the music to . . .
When we should live together in a cozy little cot
Hid in a nest of roses, with a fairy garden-spot,
Where the vines were ever fruited, and the weather ever fine,
And the birds were ever singing for that old sweetheart of mine.
When I should be her lover forever and a day,
And she my faithful sweetheart till the golden hair was gray;
And we should be so happy that when either's lips were dumb
They would not smile in Heaven till the other's kiss had come.
But, ah! my dream is broken by a step upon the stair,
And the door is softly opened, and--my wife is standing there:
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my visions I resign,--
To greet the LIVING presence of that old sweetheart of mine.
SQUIRE HAWKINS'S STORY
I hain't no hand at tellin' tales,
Er spinnin' yarns, as the sailors say;
Someway o' 'nother, language fails
To slide fer me in the oily way
That LAWYERS has; and I wisht it would,
Fer I've got somepin' that I call good;
But bein' only a country squire,
I've learned to listen and admire,
Ruther preferrin' to be addressed
Than talk myse'f--but I'll do my best:--
Old Jeff Thompson--well, I'll say,
Was the clos'test man I ever saw!--
Rich as cream, but the porest pay,
And the meanest man to work fer--La!
I've knowed that man to work one "hand"--
Fer little er nothin', you understand--
From four o'clock in the morning light
Tel eight and nine o'clock at night,
And then find fault with his appetite!
He'd drive all over the neighberhood 
To miss the place where a toll-gate stood,
And slip in town, by some old road
That no two men in the county knowed,
With a jag o' wood, and a sack o' wheat,
That wouldn't burn and you couldn't eat!
And the trades he'd make, 'll I jest de-clare,
Was enough to make a preacher swear!
And then he'd hitch, and hang about
Tel the lights in the toll-gate was blowed out,
And then the turnpike he'd turn in
And sneak his way back home ag'in!
Some folks hint, and I make no doubt,
That that's what wore his old wife out--
Toilin' away from day to day
And year to year, through heat and cold,
Uncomplainin'--the same old way
The martyrs died in the days of old;
And a-clingin', too, as the martyrs done,
To one fixed faith, and her ONLY one,--
Little Patience, the sweetest child
That ever wept unrickonciled,
Er felt the pain and the ache and sting
That only a mother's death can bring.
Patience Thompson!--I think that name
Must 'a' come from a power above,
Fer it seemed to fit her jest the same
As a GAITER would, er a fine kid glove!
And to see that girl, with all the care
Of the household on her--I de-clare
It was OUDACIOUS, the work she'd do,
And the thousand plans that she'd putt through;
And sing like a medder-lark all day long,
And drowned her cares in the joys o' song;
And LAUGH sometimes tel the farmer's "hand,"
Away fur off in the fields, would stand
A-listenin', with the plow half drawn,
Tel the coaxin' echoes called him on;
And the furries seemed, in his dreamy eyes,
Like foot-paths a-leadin' to Paradise,
As off through the hazy atmosphere
The call fer dinner reached his ear.
Now LOVE'S as cunnin'a little thing
As a hummin'-bird upon the wing,
And as liable to poke his nose
Jest where folks would least suppose,--
And more'n likely build his nest
Right in the heart you'd leave unguessed,
And live and thrive at your expense--
At least, that's MY experience.
And old Jeff Thompson often thought,
In his se'fish way, that the quiet John
Was a stiddy chap, as a farm-hand OUGHT
To always be,--fer the airliest dawn
Found John busy--and "EASY," too,
Whenever his wages would fall due!--
To sum him up with a final touch,
He EAT so little and WORKED so much,
That old Jeff laughed to hisse'f and said,
"He makes ME money and airns his bread!--
But John, fer all of his quietude,
Would sometimes drap a word er so
That none but PATIENCE understood,
And none but her was MEANT to know!--
Maybe at meal-times John would say,
As the sugar-bowl come down his way,
"Thanky, no; MY coffee's sweet
Enough fer ME!" with sich conceit,
SHE'D know at once, without no doubt,
HE meant because she poured it out;
And smile and blush, and all sich stuff,
And ast ef it was "STRONG enough?"
And git the answer, neat and trim,
"It COULDN'T be too 'strong' fer HIM!"
And so things went fer 'bout a year,
Tel John, at last, found pluck to go
And pour his tale in the old man's ear--
And ef it had been HOT LEAD, I know
It couldn't 'a' raised a louder fuss,
Ner 'a' riled the old man's temper wuss!
He jest LIT in, and cussed and swore,
And lunged and rared, and ripped and tore,
And told John jest to leave his door,
And not to darken it no more!
But Patience cried, with eyes all wet,
"Remember, John, and don't ferget,
WHATEVER comes, I love you yet!"
But the old man thought, in his se'fish way,
"I'll see her married rich some day;
And THAT," thinks he, "is money fer ME--
And my will's LAW, as it ought to be!"
So when, in the course of a month er so,
A WIDOWER, with a farm er two,
Comes to Jeff's, w'y, the folks, you know,
Had to TALK--as the folks'll do:
It was the talk of the neighberhood--
PATIENCE and JOHN, and THEIR affairs;--
And this old chap with a few gray hairs
Had "cut John out," it was understood.
And some folks reckoned "Patience, too,
Knowed what SHE was a-goin' to do--
It was LIKE her--la! indeed!--
All she loved was DOLLARS and CENTS--
Like old JEFF--and they saw no need
Fer JOHN to pine at HER negligence!"
But others said, in a KINDER way,
They missed the songs she used to sing--
They missed the smiles that used to play
Over her face, and the laughin' ring
Of her glad voice--that EVERYthing
Of her OLD se'f seemed dead and gone,
And this was the ghost that they gazed on!
Tel finally it was noised about
There was a WEDDIN' soon to be
Down at Jeff's; and the "cat was out"
Shore enough!--'Ll the JEE-MUN-NEE!
It RILED me when John told me so,--
Fer _I_ WAS A FRIEND O' JOHN'S, you know;
And his trimblin' voice jest broke in two--
As a feller's voice'll sometimes do.--
And I says, says I, "Ef I know my biz--
And I think I know what JESTICE is,--
I've read SOME law--and I'd advise
A man like you to wipe his eyes
And square his jaws and start AGIN,
FER JESTICE IS A-GOIN' TO WIN!"
And it wasn't long tel his eyes had cleared
As blue as the skies, and the sun appeared
In the shape of a good old-fashioned smile
That I hadn't seen fer a long, long while.
So we talked on fer a' hour er more,
And sunned ourselves in the open door,--
Tel a hoss-and-buggy down the road
Come a-drivin' up, that I guess John KNOWED,--
Fer he winked and says, "I'll dessappear--
THEY'D smell a mice ef they saw ME here!"
And he thumbed his nose at the old gray mare,
And hid hisse'f in the house somewhere.
Well.--The rig drove up: and I raised my head
As old Jeff hollered to me and said
That "him and his old friend there had come
To see ef the squire was at home."
. . . I told 'em "I was; and I AIMED to be
At every chance of a weddin'-fee!"
And then I laughed--and they laughed, too,--
Fer that was the object they had in view.
"Would I be on hands at eight that night?"
They ast; and 's-I, "You're mighty right,
I'LL be on hand!"  And then I BU'ST
Out a-laughin' my very wu'st,--
And so did they, as they wheeled away
And drove to'rds town in a cloud o' dust.
Then I shet the door, and me and John
Laughed and LAUGHED, and jest LAUGHED on,
Tel Mother drapped her specs, and BY
JEEWHILLIKERS!  I thought she'd DIE!--
And she couldn't 'a' told, I'll bet my hat,
What on earth she was laughin' at!
But all o' the fun o' the tale hain't done!--
Fer a drizzlin' rain had jest begun,
And a-havin' 'bout four mile' to ride,
I jest concluded I'd better light
Out fer Jeff's and save my hide,--
Fer IT WAS A-GOIN' TO STORM, THAT NIGHT!
So we went down to the barn, and John
Saddled my beast, and I got on;
And he told me somepin' to not ferget,
And when I left, he was LAUGHIN' yet.
And, 'proachin' on to my journey's end,
The great big draps o' the rain come down,
And the thunder growled in a way to lend
An awful look to the lowerin' frown
The dull sky wore; and the lightnin' glanced
Tel my old mare jest MORE'N pranced,
And tossed her head, and bugged her eyes
To about four times their natchurl size,
As the big black lips of the clouds 'ud drap
Out some oath of a thunderclap,
And threaten on in an undertone
That chilled a feller clean to the bone!
But I struck shelter soon enough
To save myse'f.  And the house was jammed
With the women-folks, and the weddin'stuff:--
A great, long table, fairly CRAMMED
With big pound-cakes--and chops and steaks--
And roasts and stews--and stumick-aches
Of every fashion, form, and size,
From twisters up to punkin-pies!
And candies, oranges, and figs,
And reezins,--all the "whilligigs"
And "jim-cracks" that the law allows
On sich occasions!--Bobs and bows
Of gigglin' girls, with corkscrew curls,
And fancy ribbons, reds and blues,
And "beau-ketchers" and "curliques"
To beat the world!  And seven o'clock
Brought old Jeff;-and brought--THE GROOM,--
With a sideboard-collar on, and stock
That choked him so, he hadn't room
To SWALLER in, er even sneeze,
Er clear his th'oat with any case
Er comfort--and a good square cough
Would saw his Adam's apple off!
But as fer PATIENCE--MY! Oomh-OOMH!--
I never saw her look so sweet!--
Her face was cream and roses, too;
And then them eyes o' heavenly blue
Jest made an angel all complete!
And when she split 'em up in smiles
And splintered 'em around the room,
And danced acrost and met the groom,
And LAUGHED OUT LOUD--It kind o' spiles
My language when I come to that--
Fer, as she laid away his hat,
Thinks I, "THE PAPERS HID INSIDE
OF THAT SAID HAT MUST MAKE A BRIDE
A HAPPY ONE FER ALL HER LIFE,
Er else a WRECKED AND WRETCHED WIFE!"
And, someway, then, I thought of JOHN,--
Then looked towards PATIENCE. . . .  She was GONE!--
The door stood open, and the rain
Was dashin' in; and sharp and plain
Above the storm we heerd a cry--
A ringin', laughin', loud "Good-by!"
That died away, as fleet and fast
A hoss's hoofs went splashin' past!
And that was all.  'Twas done that quick! . . .
You've heerd o' fellers "lookin' sick"?
I wisht you'd seen THE GROOM jest then--
I wisht you'd seen them two old men,
With starin' eyes that fairly GLARED
At one another, and the scared
And empty faces of the crowd,--
I wisht you could 'a' been allowed
To jest look on and see it all,--
And heerd the girls and women bawl
And wring their hands; and heerd old Jeff
A-cussin' as he swung hisse'f
Upon his hoss, who champed his bit
As though old Nick had holt of it:
And cheek by jowl the two old wrecks
Rode off as though they'd break their necks.
And as we all stood starin' out
Into the night, I felt the brush
Of some one's hand, and turned about,
And heerd a voice that whispered, "HUSH!--
THEY'RE WAITIN' IN THE KITCHEN, AND
YOU'RE WANTED.  DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?"
Well, ef my MEMORY serves me now,
I think I winked.--Well, anyhow,
I left the crowd a-gawkin' there,
And jest slipped off around to where
The back door opened, and went in,
And turned and shet the door ag'in,
And maybe LOCKED it--couldn't swear,--
A woman's arms around me makes
Me liable to make mistakes.--
I read a marriage license nex',
But as I didn't have my specs
I jest INFERRED it was all right,
And tied the knot so mortal-tight
That Patience and my old friend John
Was safe enough from that time on!
Well, now, I might go on and tell
How all the joke at last leaked out,
And how the youngsters raised the yell
And rode the happy groom about
Upon their shoulders; how the bride
Was kissed a hunderd times beside
The one _I_ give her,--tel she cried
And laughed untel she like to died!
I might go on and tell you all
About the supper--and the BALL.--
You'd ought to see me twist my heel
Through jest one old Furginny reel
Afore you die! er tromp the strings
Of some old fiddle tel she sings
Some old cowtillion, don't you know,
That putts the devil in yer toe!
We kep' the dancin' up tel FOUR
O'clock, I reckon--maybe more.--
We hardly heerd the thunders roar,
ER THOUGHT about the STORM that blowed--
AND THEM TWO FELLERS ON THE ROAD!
Tel all at onc't we heerd the door
Bu'st open, and a voice that SWORE,--
And old Jeff Thompson tuck the floor.
He shuck hisse'f and looked around
Like some old dog about half-drowned--
HIS HAT, I reckon, WEIGHED TEN POUND
To say the least, and I'll say, SHORE,
HIS OVERCOAT WEIGHED FIFTY more--
THE WETTEST MAN YOU EVER SAW,
TO HAVE SO DRY A SON-IN-LAW!
He sized it all; and Patience laid
Her hand in John's, and looked afraid,
And waited.  And a stiller set
O' folks, I KNOW, you never met
In any court room, where with dread
They wait to hear a verdick read.
The old man turned his eyes on me:
"And have you married 'em?" says he.
I nodded "Yes."  "Well, that'll do,"
He says, "and now we're th'ough with YOU,--
YOU jest clear out, and I decide
And promise to be satisfied!"
He hadn't nothin' more to say.
I saw, of course, how matters lay,
And left.  But as I rode away
I heerd the roosters crow fer day.
A COUNTRY PATHWAY
I come upon it suddenly, alone--
    A little pathway winding in the weeds
That fringe the roadside; and with dreams my own,
    I wander as it leads.
Full wistfully along the slender way,
    Through summer tan of freckled shade and shine,
I take the path that leads me as it may--
    Its every choice is mine.
A chipmunk, or a sudden-whirring quail,
    Is startled by my step as on I fare--
A garter-snake across the dusty trail
    Glances and--is not there.
Above the arching jimson-weeds flare twos
    And twos of sallow-yellow butterflies,
Like blooms of lorn primroses blowing loose
    When autumn winds arise.
The trail dips--dwindles--broadens then, and lifts
    Itself astride a cross-road dubiously,
And, from the fennel marge beyond it, drifts
    Still onward, beckoning me.
And though it needs must lure me mile on mile
    Out of the public highway, still I go,
My thoughts, far in advance in Indian file,
    Allure me even so.
Why, I am as a long-lost boy that went
    At dusk to bring the cattle to the bars,
And was not found again, though Heaven lent
    His mother all the stars
With which to seek him through that awful night
    O years of nights as vain!--Stars never rise
But well might miss their glitter in the light
    Of tears in mother-eyes!
So--on, with quickened breaths, I follow still--
    My avant-courier must be obeyed!
Thus am I led, and thus the path, at will,
    Invites me to invade
A meadow's precincts, where my daring guide
    Clambers the steps of an old-fashioned stile,
And stumbles down again, the other side,
    To gambol there a while.
In pranks of hide-and-seek, as on ahead
    I see it running, while the clover-stalks
Shake rosy fists at me, as though they said--
    "You dog our country walks
"And mutilate us with your walking-stick!--
    We will not suffer tamely what you do,
And warn you at your peril,--for we'll sick
    Our bumblebees on you!"
But I smile back, in airy nonchalance,--
    The more determined on my wayward quest,
As some bright memory a moment dawns
    A morning in my breast--
Sending a thrill that hurries me along
    In faulty similes of childish skips,
Enthused with lithe contortions of a song
    Performing on my lips.
In wild meanderings o'er pasture wealth--
    Erratic wanderings through dead'ning lands,
Where sly old brambles, plucking me by stealth,
    Put berries in my hands:
Or the path climbs a boulder--wades a slough--
    Or, rollicking through buttercups and flags,
Goes gaily dancing o'er a deep bayou
    On old tree-trunks and snags:
Or, at the creek, leads o'er a limpid pool
    Upon a bridge the stream itself has made,
With some Spring-freshet for the mighty tool
    That its foundation laid.
I pause a moment here to bend and muse,
    With dreamy eyes, on my reflection, where
A boat-backed bug drifts on a helpless cruise,
    Or wildly oars the air,
As, dimly seen, the pirate of the brook--
    The pike, whose jaunty hulk denotes his speed--
Swings pivoting about, with wary look
    Of low and cunning greed.
Till, filled with other thought, I turn again
    To where the pathway enters in a realm
Of lordly woodland, under sovereign reign
    Of towering oak and elm.
A puritanic quiet here reviles
    The almost whispered warble from the hedge,
And takes a locust's rasping voice and files
    The silence to an edge.
In such a solitude my somber way
    Strays like a misanthrope within a gloom
Of his own shadows--till the perfect day
    Bursts into sudden bloom,
And crowns a long, declining stretch of space,
    Where King Corn's armies lie with flags unfurled,
And where the valley's dint in Nature's face
    Dimples a smiling world.
And lo! through mists that may not be dispelled,
    I see an old farm homestead, as in dreams,
Where, like a gem in costly setting held,
    The old log cabin gleams.
    .   .   .   .   .   .   .
O darling Pathway! lead me bravely on
    Adown your valley-way, and run before
Among the roses crowding up the lawn
    And thronging at the door,--
And carry up the echo there that shall
    Arouse the drowsy dog, that he may bay
The household out to greet the prodigal
    That wanders home to-day.
THE  OLD  GUITAR
Neglected now is the old guitar
    And moldering into decay;
Fretted with many a rift and scar
    That the dull dust hides away,
While the spider spins a silver star
    In its silent lips to-day.
The keys hold only nerveless strings--
    The sinews of brave old airs
Are pulseless now; and the scarf that clings
    So closely here declares
A sad regret in its ravelings
    And the faded hue it wears.
But the old guitar, with a lenient grace,
    Has cherished a smile for me;
And its features hint of a fairer face
    That comes with a memory
Of a flower-and-perfume-haunted place
    And a moonlit balcony.
Music sweeter than words confess,
    Or the minstrel's powers invent,
Thrilled here once at the light caress
    Of the fairy hands that lent
This excuse for the kiss I press
    On the dear old instrument.
The rose of pearl with the jeweled stem
    Still blooms; and the tiny sets
In the circle all are here; the gem
    In the keys, and the silver frets;
But the dainty fingers that danced o'er them--
    Alas for the heart's regrets!--
Alas for the loosened strings to-day,
    And the wounds of rift and scar
On a worn old heart, with its roundelay
    Enthralled with a stronger bar
That Fate weaves on, through a dull decay
    Like that of the old guitar!
"FRIDAY AFTERNOON"
TO WILLIAM MORRIS PIERSON
Of the wealth of facts and fancies
    That our memories may recall,
The old school-day romances
    Are the dearest, after all!--.
When some sweet thought revises
    The half-forgotten tune
That opened "Exercises"
    On "Friday Afternoon."
We seem to hear the clicking
    Of the pencil and the pen,
And the solemn, ceaseless ticking
    Of the timepiece ticking then;
And we note the watchful master,
    As he waves the warning rod,
With our own heart beating faster
    Than the boy's who threw the wad.
Some little hand uplifted,
    And the creaking of a shoe:--
A problem left unsifted
    For the teacher's hand to do:
The murmured hum of learning--
    And the flutter of a book;
The smell of something burning,
    And the school's inquiring look.
The bashful boy in blushes;
    And the girl, with glancing eyes,
Who hides her smiles, and hushes
    The laugh about to rise,--
Then, with a quick invention,
    Assumes a serious face,
To meet the words, "Attention!
    Every scholar in his place!"
The opening song, page 20.--
    Ah! dear old "Golden Wreath,"
You willed your sweets in plenty;
    And some who look beneath
The leaves of Time will linger,
    And loving tears will start,
As Fancy trails her finger
    O'er the index of the heart.
"Good News from Home"--We hear it
    Welling tremulous, yet clear
And holy as the spirit
    Of the song we used to hear--
"Good news for me" (A throbbing
    And an aching melody)--
"Has come across the"--(sobbing,
    Yea, and salty) "dark blue sea!"
Or the paean "Scotland's burning!"
    With its mighty surge and swell
Of chorus, still returning
    To its universal yell--
Till we're almost glad to drop to
    Something sad and full of pain--
And "Skip verse three," and stop, too,
    Ere our hearts are broke again.
Then "the big girls'" compositions,
    With their doubt, and hope, and glow
Of heart and face,--conditions
    Of "the big boys"--even so,--
When themes of "Spring," and "Summer"
    And of "Fall," and "Winter-time"
Droop our heads and hold us dumber
    Than the sleigh-bell's fancied chime.
Elocutionary science--
    (Still in changeless infancy!)--
With its "Cataline's Defiance,"
    And "The Banner of the Free":
Or, lured from Grandma's attic,
    A ramshackle "rocker" there,
Adds a skreek of the dramatic
    To the poet's "Old Arm-Chair."
Or the "Speech of Logan" shifts us
    From the pathos, to the fire;
And Tell (with Gessler) lifts us
    Many noble notches higher.--
Till a youngster, far from sunny,
    With sad eyes of watery blue,
Winds up with something "funny,"
    Like "Cock-a-doodle-do!"
Then a dialogue--selected
    For its realistic worth:--
The Cruel Boy detected
    With a turtle turned to earth
Back downward; and, in pleading,
    The Good Boy--strangely gay
At such a sad proceeding--
    Says, "Turn him over, pray!"
So the exercises taper
    Through gradations of delight
To the reading of "The Paper,"
    Which is entertaining--quite!
For it goes ahead and mentions
    "If a certain Mr. O.
Has serious intentions
    That he ought to tell her so."
It also "Asks permission
    To intimate to 'John'
The dubious condition
    Of the ground he's standing on";
And, dropping the suggestion
    To "mind what he's about,"
It stuns him with the question:
    "Does his mother know he's out?"
And among the contributions
    To this "Academic Press"
Are "Versified Effusions"
    By--"Our lady editress"--
Which fact is proudly stated
    By the CHIEF of the concern,--
"Though the verse communicated
    Bears the pen-name 'Fanny Fern.' "
    .   .   .   .   .   .
When all has been recited,
    And the teacher's bell is heard,
And visitors, invited,
    Have dropped a kindly word,
A hush of holy feeling
    Falls down upon us there,
As though the day were kneeling,
    With the twilight for the prayer.
    .   .   .   .   .   .
Midst the wealth of facts and fancies
    That our memories may recall,
Thus the old school-day romances
    Are the dearest, after all!--
When some sweet thought revises
    The half-forgotten tune
That opened "Exercises,"
    On "Friday Afternoon."
"JOHNSON'S BOY"
The world is turned ag'in' me,
    And people says, "They guess
That nothin' else is in me
    But pure maliciousness!"
I git the blame for doin'
    What other chaps destroy,
And I'm a-goin' to ruin
    Because I'm "Johnson's boy."
THAT ain't my name--I'd ruther
    They'd call me IKE or PAT--
But they've forgot the other--
    And so have _I_, for that!
I reckon it's as handy,
    When Nibsy breaks his toy,
Or some one steals his candy,
    To say 'twas "JOHNSON'S BOY!"
You can't git any water
    At the pump, and find the spout
So durn chuck-full o' mortar
    That you have to bore it out;
You tackle any scholar
    In Wisdom's wise employ,
And I'll bet you half a dollar
    He'll say it's "Johnson's boy!"
Folks don't know how I suffer
    In my uncomplainin' way--
They think I'm gittin' tougher
    And tougher every day.
Last Sunday night, when Flinder
    Was a-shoutin' out for joy,
And some one shook the winder,
    He prayed for "Johnson's boy."
I'm tired of bein' follered
    By farmers every day,
And then o' bein' collared
    For coaxin' hounds away;
Hounds always plays me double--
    It's a trick they all enjoy--
To git me into trouble,
    Because I'm "Johnson's boy."
But if I git to Heaven,
    I hope the Lord'll see
SOME boy has been perfect,
    And lay it on to me;
I'll swell the song sonorous,
    And clap my wings for joy,
And sail off on the chorus--
    "Hurrah for 'Johnson's boy!'"
HER BEAUTIFUL HANDS
Your hands--they are strangely fair!
O Fair--for the jewels that sparkle there,--
Fair--for the witchery of the spell
That ivory keys alone can tell;
But when their delicate touches rest
Here in my own do I love them best,
As I clasp with eager, acquisitive spans
My glorious treasure of beautiful hands!
Marvelous--wonderful--beautiful hands!
They can coax roses to bloom in the strands
Of your brown tresses; and ribbons will twine,
Under mysterious touches of thine,
Into such knots as entangle the soul
And fetter the heart under such a control
As only the strength of my love understands--
My passionate love for your beautiful hands.
As I remember the first fair touch
Of those beautiful hands that I love so much,
I seem to thrill as I then was thrilled,
Kissing the glove that I found unfilled--
When I met your gaze, and the queenly bow,
As you said to me, laughingly, "Keep it now!" . . .
And dazed and alone in a dream I stand,
Kissing this ghost of your beautiful hand.
When first I loved, in the long ago,
And held your hand as I told you so--
Pressed and caressed it and gave it a kiss
And said "I could die for a hand like this!"
Little I dreamed love's fullness yet
Had to ripen when eyes were wet
And prayers were vain in their wild demands
For one warm touch of your beautiful hands.
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
Beautiful Hands!--O Beautiful Hands!
Could you reach out of the alien lands
Where you are lingering, and give me, to-night,
Only a touch--were it ever so light--
My heart were soothed, and my weary brain
Would lull itself into rest again;
For there is no solace the world commands
Like the caress of your beautiful hands.
NATURAL PERVERSITIES
I am not prone to moralize
    In scientific doubt
On certain facts that Nature tries
    To puzzle us about,--
For I am no philosopher
    Of wise elucidation,
But speak of things as they occur,
    From simple observation.
I notice LITTLE things--to wit:--
    I never missed a train
Because I didn't RUN for it;
    I never knew it rain
That my umbrella wasn't lent,--
    Or, when in my possession,
The sun but wore, to all intent,
    A jocular expression.
I never knew a creditor
    To dun me for a debt
But I was "cramped" or "bu'sted"; or
    I never knew one yet,
When I had plenty in my purse,
    To make the least invasion,--
As I, accordingly perverse,
    Have courted no occasion.
Nor do I claim to comprehend
    What Nature has in view
In giving us the very friend
    To trust we oughtn't to.--
But so it is:  The trusty gun
    Disastrously exploded
Is always sure to be the one
    We didn't think was loaded.
Our moaning is another's mirth,--
    And what is worse by half,
We say the funniest thing on earth
    And never raise a laugh:
'Mid friends that love us over well,
    And sparkling jests and liquor,
Our hearts somehow are liable
    To melt in tears the quicker.
We reach the wrong when most we seek
    The right; in like effect,
We stay the strong and not the weak--
    Do most when we neglect.--
Neglected genius--truth be said--
    As wild and quick as tinder,
The more you seek to help ahead
    The more you seem to hinder.
I've known the least the greatest, too--
    And, on the selfsame plan,
The biggest fool I ever knew
    Was quite a little man:
We find we ought, and then we won't--
    We prove a thing, then doubt it,--
Know EVERYTHING but when we don't
    Know ANYTHING about it.
THE SILENT VICTORS
MAY 30, 1878, 
Dying for victory, cheer on cheer
Thundered on his eager ear.
            --CHARLES L. HOLSTEIN.
Deep, tender, firm and true, the Nation's heart
    Throbs for her gallant heroes passed away,
Who in grim Battle's drama played their part,
    And slumber here to-day.--
Warm hearts that beat their lives out at the shrine
    Of Freedom, while our country held its breath
As brave battalions wheeled themselves in line
    And marched upon their death:
When Freedom's Flag, its natal wounds scarce healed,
    Was torn from peaceful winds and flung again
To shudder in the storm of battle-field--
    The elements of men,--
When every star that glittered was a mark
    For Treason's ball, and every rippling bar
Of red and white was sullied with the dark
    And purple stain of war:
When angry guns, like famished beasts of prey,
    Were howling o'er their gory feast of lives,
And sending dismal echoes far away
    To mothers, maids, and wives:--
The mother, kneeling in the empty night,
    With pleading hands uplifted for the son
Who, even as she prayed, had fought the fight--
    The victory had won:
The wife, with trembling hand that wrote to say
    The babe was waiting for the sire's caress--
The letter meeting that upon the way,--
    The babe was fatherless:
The maiden, with her lips, in fancy, pressed
    Against the brow once dewy with her breath,
Now lying numb, unknown, and uncaressed
    Save by the dews of death.
What meed of tribute can the poet pay
    The Soldier, but to trail the ivy-vine
Of idle rhyme above his grave to-day
    In epitaph design?--
Or wreathe with laurel-words the icy brows
    That ache no longer with a dream of fame,
But, pillowed lowly in the narrow house,
    Renowned beyond the name.
The dewy tear-drops of the night may fall,
    And tender morning with her shining hand
May brush them from the grasses green and tall
    That undulate the land.--
Yet song of Peace nor din of toil and thrift,
    Nor chanted honors, with the flowers we heap,
Can yield us hope the Hero's head to lift
    Out of its dreamless sleep:
The dear old Flag, whose faintest flutter flies
    A stirring echo through each patriot breast,
Can never coax to life the folded eyes
    That saw its wrongs redressed--
That watched it waver when the fight was hot,
    And blazed with newer courage to its aid,
Regardless of the shower of shell and shot
    Through which the charge was made;--
And when, at last, they saw it plume its wings,
    Like some proud bird in stormy element,
And soar untrammeled on its wanderings,
    They closed in death, content.
O Mother, you who miss the smiling face
    Of that dear boy who vanished from your sight,
And left you weeping o'er the vacant place
    He used to fill at night,--
Who left you dazed, bewildered, on a day
    That echoed wild huzzas, and roar of guns
That drowned the farewell words you tried to say
    To incoherent ones;--
Be glad and proud you had the life to give--
    Be comforted through all the years to come,--
Your country has a longer life to live,
    Your son a better home.
O Widow, weeping o'er the orphaned child,
    Who only lifts his questioning eyes to send
A keener pang to grief unreconciled,--
    Teach him to comprehend
He had a father brave enough to stand
    Before the fire of Treason's blazing gun,
That, dying, he might will the rich old land
    Of Freedom to his son.
And, Maiden, living on through lonely years
    In fealty to love's enduring ties,--
With strong faith gleaming through the tender tears
    That gather in your eyes,
Look up! and own, in gratefulness of prayer,
    Submission to the will of Heaven's High Host:--
I see your Angel-soldier pacing there,
    Expectant at his post.--
I see the rank and file of armies vast,
    That muster under one supreme control;
I hear the trumpet sound the signal-blast--
    The calling of the roll--
The grand divisions falling into line
    And forming, under voice of One alone
Who gives command, and joins with tongue divine
    The hymn that shakes the Throne.
And thus, in tribute to the forms that rest
    In their last camping-ground, we strew the bloom
And fragrance of the flowers they loved the best,
    In silence o'er the tomb.
With reverent hands we twine the Hero's wreath
    And clasp it tenderly on stake or stone
That stands the sentinel for each beneath
    Whose glory is our own.
While in the violet that greets the sun,
    We see the azure eye of some lost boy;
And in the rose the ruddy cheek of one
    We kissed in childish joy,--
Recalling, haply, when he marched away,
    He laughed his loudest though his eyes were wet.--
The kiss he gave his mother's brow that day
    Is there and burning yet:
And through the storm of grief around her tossed,
    One ray of saddest comfort she may see,--
Four hundred thousand sons like hers were lost
    To weeping Liberty.
    .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
But draw aside the drapery of gloom,
    And let the sunshine chase the clouds away
And gild with brighter glory every tomb
    We decorate to-day:
And in the holy silence reigning round,
    While prayers of perfume bless the atmosphere,
Where loyal souls of love and faith are found,
    Thank God that Peace is here!
And let each angry impulse that may start,
    Be smothered out of every loyal breast;
And, rocked within the cradle of the heart,
    Let every sorrow rest.
There's a habit I have nurtured,
    From the sentimental time
When my life was like a story,
    And my heart a happy rhyme,--
Of clipping from the paper,
    Or magazine, perhaps,
The idle songs of dreamers,
    Which I treasure as my scraps.
They hide among my letters,
    And they find a cozy nest
In the bosom of my wrapper,
    And the pockets of my vest;
They clamber in my fingers
    Till my dreams of wealth relapse
In fairer dreams than Fortune's
    Though I find them only scraps.
Sometimes I find, in tatters
    Like a beggar, form as fair
As ever gave to Heaven
    The treasure of a prayer;
And words all dim and faded,
    And obliterate in part,
Grow into fadeless meanings
    That are printed on the heart.
Sometimes a childish jingle
    Flings an echo, sweet and clear,
And thrills me as I listen
    To the laughs I used to hear;
And I catch the gleam of faces,
    And the glimmer of glad eyes
That peep at me expectant
    O'er the walls of Paradise.
O syllables of measure!
    Though you wheel yourselves in line,
And await the further order
    Of this eager voice of mine;
You are powerless to follow
    O'er the field my fancy maps,
So I lead you back to silence
    Feeling you are only scraps.
A day of torpor in the sullen heat
    Of Summer's passion:  In the sluggish stream
The panting cattle lave their lazy feet,
    With drowsy eyes, and dream.
Long since the winds have died, and in the sky
    There lives no cloud to hint of Nature's grief;
The sun glares ever like an evil eye,
    And withers flower and leaf.
Upon the gleaming harvest-field remote
    The thresher lies deserted, like some old
Dismantled galleon that hangs afloat
    Upon a sea of gold.
The yearning cry of some bewildered bird
    Above an empty nest, and truant boys
Along the river's shady margin heard--
    A harmony of noise--
A melody of wrangling voices blent
    With liquid laughter, and with rippling calls
Of piping lips and thrilling echoes sent
    To mimic waterfalls.
And through the hazy veil the atmosphere
    Has draped about the gleaming face of Day,
The sifted glances of the sun appear
    In splinterings of spray.
The dusty highway, like a cloud of dawn,
    Trails o'er the hillside, and the passer-by,
A tired ghost in misty shroud, toils on
    His journey to the sky.
And down across the valley's drooping sweep,
    Withdrawn to farthest limit of the glade,
The forest stands in silence, drinking deep
    Its purple wine of shade.
The gossamer floats up on phantom wing;
    The sailor-vision voyages the skies
And carries into chaos everything
    That freights the weary eyes:
Till, throbbing on and on, the pulse of heat
    Increases--reaches--passes fever's height,
And Day sinks into slumber, cool and sweet,
    Within the arms of Night.
DEAD IN SIGHT OF FAME
    DIED--Early morning of September 5, 1876, and
in the gleaming dawn of "name and fame,"
Hamilton J. Dunbar.
Dead!  Dead!  Dead!
    We thought him ours alone;
And were so proud to see him tread
The rounds of fame, and lift his head
    Where sunlight ever shone;
But now our aching eyes are dim,
And look through tears in vain for him.
Name!  Name!  Name!
    It was his diadem;
Nor ever tarnish-taint of shame
Could dim its luster--like a flame
    Reflected in a gem,
He wears it blazing on his brow
Within the courts of Heaven now.
Tears!  Tears!  Tears!
    Like dews upon the leaf
That bursts at last--from out the years
The blossom of a trust appears
    That blooms above the grief;
And mother, brother, wife and child
Will see it and be reconciled.
O In the depths of midnight
    What fancies haunt the brain!
When even the sigh of the sleeper
    Sounds like a sob of pain.
A sense of awe and of wonder
    I may never well define,--
For the thoughts that come in the shadows
    Never come in the shine.
The old clock down in the parlor
    Like a sleepless mourner grieves,
And the seconds drip in the silence
    As the rain drips from the eaves.
And I think of the hands that signal
    The hours there in the gloom,
And wonder what angel watchers
    Wait in the darkened room.
And I think of the smiling faces
    That used to watch and wait,
Till the click of the clock was answered
    By the click of the opening gate.--
They are not there now in the evening--
    Morning or noon--not there;
Yet I know that they keep their vigil,
    And wait for me Somewhere.
THE IRON HORSE
No song is mine of Arab steed--
    My courser is of nobler blood,
And cleaner limb and fleeter speed,
    And greater strength and hardihood
Than ever cantered wild and free
Across the plains of Araby.
Go search the level desert land
From Sana on to Samarcand--
Wherever Persian prince has been,
Or Dervish, Sheik, or Bedouin,
And I defy you there to point
    Me out a steed the half so fine--
From tip of ear to pastern-joint--
    As this old iron horse of mine.
You do not know what beauty is--
    You do not know what gentleness
    His answer is to my caress!--
Why, look upon this gait of his,--
A touch upon his iron rein--
    He moves with such a stately grace
The sunlight on his burnished mane
    Is barely shaken in its place;
    And at a touch he changes pace,
And, gliding backward, stops again.
And talk of mettle--Ah! my friend,
    Such passion smolders in his breast
That when awakened it will send
    A thrill of rapture wilder than
    E'er palpitated heart of man
    When flaming at its mightiest.
And there's a fierceness in his ire--
    A maddened majesty that leaps
Along his veins in blood of fire,
    Until the path his vision sweeps
Spins out behind him like a thread
    Unraveled from the reel of time,
    As, wheeling on his course sublime,
The earth revolves beneath his tread.
Then stretch away, my gallant steed!
    Thy mission is a noble one:
    Thou bear'st the father to the son,
And sweet relief to bitter need;
Thou bear'st the stranger to his friends;
    Thou bear'st the pilgrim to the shrine,
And back again the prayer he sends
    That God will prosper me and mine,--
The star that on thy forehead gleams
Has blossomed in our brightest dreams.
Then speed thee on thy glorious race!
The mother waits thy ringing pace;
The father leans an anxious ear
The thunder of thy hooves to hear;
The lover listens, far away,
To catch thy keen exultant neigh;
And, where thy breathings roll and rise,
The husband strains his eager eyes,
And laugh of wife and baby-glee
Ring out to greet and welcome thee.
Then stretch away! and when at last
    The master's hand shall gently check
Thy mighty speed, and hold thee fast,
    The world will pat thee on the neck.
As though a gipsy maiden with dim look,
    Sat crooning by the roadside of the year,
    So, Autumn, in thy strangeness, thou art here
To read dark fortunes for us from the book
Of fate; thou flingest in the crinkled brook
    The trembling maple's gold, and frosty-clear
    Thy mocking laughter thrills the atmosphere,
And drifting on its current calls the rook
To other lands.  As one who wades, alone,
    Deep in the dusk, and hears the minor talk
Of distant melody, and finds the tone,
    In some wierd way compelling him to stalk
The paths of childhood over,--so I moan,
    And like a troubled sleeper, groping, walk.
The frightened herds of clouds across the sky
    Trample the sunshine down, and chase the day
    Into the dusky forest-lands of gray
And somber twilight.  Far, and faint, and high
The wild goose trails his harrow, with a cry
    Sad as the wail of some poor castaway
    Who sees a vessel drifting far astray
Of his last hope, and lays him down to die.
The children, riotous from school, grow bold
    And quarrel with the wind, whose angry gust
Plucks off the summer hat, and flaps the fold
    Of many a crimson cloak, and twirls the dust
In spiral shapes grotesque, and dims the gold
    Of gleaming tresses with the blur of rust.
Funereal Darkness, drear and desolate,
    Muffles the world.  The moaning of the wind
    Is piteous with sobs of saddest kind;
And laughter is a phantom at the gate
Of memory.  The long-neglected grate
    Within sprouts into flame and lights the mind
    With hopes and wishes long ago refined
To ashes,--long departed friends await
    Our words of welcome: and our lips are dumb
And powerless to greet the ones that press
    Old kisses there.  The baby beats its drum,
And fancy marches to the dear caress
    Of mother-arms, and all the gleeful hum
Of home intrudes upon our loneliness.
OVER THE EYES OF GLADNESS
"The voice of One hath spoken,
    And the bended reed is bruised--
The golden bowl is broken,
    And the silver cord is loosed."
Over the eyes of gladness
    The lids of sorrow fall,
And the light of mirth is darkened
    Under the funeral pall.
The hearts that throbbed with rapture
    In dreams of the future years,
Are wakened from their slumbers,
    And their visions drowned in tears.
    .   .   .   .   .   .   .
Two buds on the bough in the morning--
    Twin buds in the smiling sun,
But the frost of death has fallen
    And blighted the bloom of one.
One leaf of life still folded
    Has fallen from the stem,
Leaving the symbol teaching
    There still are two of them,--
For though--through Time's gradations,
    The LIVING bud may burst,--
The WITHERED one is gathered,
    And blooms in Heaven first.
ONLY A DREAM
Only a dream!
            Her head is bent
Over the keys of the instrument,
While her trembling fingers go astray
In the foolish tune she tries to play.
He smiles in his heart, though his deep, sad eyes
Never change to a glad surprise
As he finds the answer he seeks confessed
In glowing features, and heaving breast.
Only a dream!
            Though the fete is grand,
And a hundred hearts at her command,
She takes no part, for her soul is sick
Of the Coquette's art and the Serpent's trick,--
She someway feels she would like to fling
Her sins away as a robe, and spring
Up like a lily pure and white,
And bloom alone for HIM to-night.
Only a dream
            That the fancy weaves.
The lids unfold like the rose's leaves,
And the upraised eyes are moist and mild
As the prayerful eyes of a drowsy child.
Does she remember the spell they once
Wrought in the past a few short months?
Haply not--yet her lover's eyes
Never change to the glad surprise.
Only a dream!
            He winds her form
Close in the coil of his curving arm,
And whirls her away in a gust of sound
As wild and sweet as the poets found
In the paradise where the silken tent
Of the Persian blooms in the Orient,--
While ever the chords of the music seem
Whispering sadly,--"Only a dream!"
OUR LITTLE GIRL
Her heart knew naught of sorrow,
    Nor the vaguest taint of sin--
'Twas an ever-blooming blossom
    Of the purity within:
And her hands knew only touches
    Of the mother's gentle care,
And the kisses and caresses
    Through the interludes of prayer.
Her baby-feet had journeyed
    Such a little distance here,
They could have found no briers
    In the path to interfere;
The little cross she carried
    Could not weary her, we know,
For it lay as lightly on her
    As a shadow on the snow.
And yet the way before us--
    O how empty now and drear!--
How ev'n the dews of roses
    Seem as dripping tears for her!
And the song-birds all seem crying,
    As the winds cry and the rain,
All sobbingly,--"We want--we want
    Our little girl again!"
THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW
'Twas a Funny Little Fellow
    Of the very purest type,
For he had a heart as mellow
    As an apple over ripe;
And the brightest little twinkle
    When a funny thing occurred,
And the lightest little tinkle
    Of a laugh you ever heard!
His smile was like the glitter
    Of the sun in tropic lands,
And his talk a sweeter twitter
    Than the swallow understands;
Hear him sing--and tell a story--
    Snap a joke--ignite a pun,--
'Twas a capture--rapture--glory,
    An explosion--all in one!
Though he hadn't any money--
    That condiment which tends
To make a fellow "honey"
    For the palate of his friends;--
Sweet simples he compounded--
    Sovereign antidotes for sin
Or taint,--a faith unbounded
    That his friends were genuine.
He wasn't honored, maybe--
    For his songs of praise were slim,--
Yet I never knew a baby
    That wouldn't crow for him;
I never knew a mother
    But urged a kindly claim
Upon him as a brother,
    At the mention of his name.
The sick have ceased their sighing,
    And have even found the grace
Of a smile when they were dying
    As they looked upon his face;
And I've seen his eyes of laughter
    Melt in tears that only ran
As though, swift-dancing after,
    Came the Funny Little Man.
He laughed away the sorrow
    And he laughed away the gloom
We are all so prone to borrow
    From the darkness of the tomb;
And he laughed across the ocean
    Of a happy life, and passed,
With a laugh of glad emotion,
    Into Paradise at last.
And I think the Angels knew him,
    And had gathered to await
His coming, and run to him
    Through the widely opened Gate,
With their faces gleaming sunny
    For his laughter-loving sake,
And thinking, "What a funny
    Little Angel he will make!"
SONG OF THE NEW YEAR
I heard the bells at midnight
    Ring in the dawning year;
And above the clanging chorus
    Of the song, I seemed to hear
A choir of mystic voices
    Flinging echoes, ringing clear,
From a band of angels winging
    Through the haunted atmosphere:
        "Ring out the shame and sorrow,
            And the misery and sin,
        That the dawning of the morrow
            May in peace be ushered in."
And I thought of all the trials
    The departed years had cost,
And the blooming hopes and pleasures
    That are withered now and lost;
And with joy I drank the music
    Stealing o'er the feeling there
As the spirit song came pealing
    On the silence everywhere:
        "Ring out the shame and sorrow,
            And the misery and sin,
        That the dawning of the morrow
            May in peace be ushered in."
And I listened as a lover
    To an utterance that flows
In syllables like dewdrops
    From the red lips of a rose,
Till the anthem, fainter growing,
    Climbing higher, chiming on
Up the rounds of happy rhyming,
    Slowly vanished in the dawn:
        "Ring out the shame and sorrow,
            And the misery and sin,
        That the dawning of the morrow
            May in peace be ushered in."
Then I raised my eyes to Heaven,
    And with trembling lips I pled
For a blessing for the living
    And a pardon for the dead;
And like a ghost of music
    Slowly whispered--lowly sung--
Came the echo pure and holy
    In the happy angel tongue:
        "Ring out the shame and sorrow,
            And the misery and sin,
        And the dawn of every morrow
            Will in peace be ushered in."
A LETTER TO A FRIEND
The past is like a story
    I have listened to in dreams
That vanished in the glory
    Of the Morning's early gleams;
And--at my shadow glancing--
    I feel a loss of strength,
As the Day of Life advancing
    Leaves it shorn of half its length.
But it's all in vain to worry
    At the rapid race of Time--
And he flies in such a flurry
    When I trip him with a rhyme,
I'll bother him no longer
    Than to thank you for the thought
That "my fame is growing stronger
    As you really think it ought."
And though I fall below it,
    I might know as much of mirth
To live and die a poet
    Of unacknowledged worth;
For Fame is but a vagrant--
    Though a loyal one and brave,
And his laurels ne'er so fragrant
    As when scattered o'er the grave.
LINES FOR AN ALBUM
I would not trace the hackneyed phrase
Of shallow words and empty praise,
And prate of "peace" till one might think
My foolish pen was drunk with ink.
Nor will I here the wish express
Of "lasting love and happiness,"
And "cloudless skies"--for after all
"Into each life some rain must fall."
--No.  Keep the empty page below,
In my remembrance, white as snow--
Nor sigh to know the secret prayer
My spirit hand has written there.
When the lids of dusk are falling
    O'er the dreamy eyes of day,
And the whippoorwills are calling,
    And the lesson laid away,--
May Mem'ry soft and tender
    As the prelude of the night,
Bend over you and render
    As tranquil a delight.
Once, in a dream, I saw a man
    With haggard face and tangled hair,
And eyes that nursed as wild a care
    As gaunt Starvation ever can;
And in his hand he held a wand
    Whose magic touch gave life and thought
    Unto a form his fancy wrought
And robed with coloring so grand,
    It seemed the reflex of some child
    Of Heaven, fair and undefiled--
    A face of purity and love--
    To woo him into worlds above:
And as I gazed with dazzled eyes,
    A gleaming smile lit up his lips
    As his bright soul from its eclipse
Went flashing into Paradise.
Then tardy Fame came through the door
And found a picture--nothing more.
And once I saw a man, alone,
    In abject poverty, with hand
Uplifted o'er a block of stone
    That took a shape at his command
And smiled upon him, fair and good--
A perfect work of womanhood,
Save that the eyes might never weep,
Nor weary hands be crossed in sleep,
Nor hair that fell from crown to wrist,
Be brushed away, caressed and kissed.
And as in awe I gazed on her,
    I saw the sculptor's chisel fall--
        I saw him sink, without a moan,
        Sink lifeless at the feet of stone,
And lie there like a worshiper.
    Fame crossed the threshold of the hall,
    And found a statue--that was all.
And once I saw a man who drew
    A gloom about him like a cloak,
And wandered aimlessly.  The few
    Who spoke of him at all, but spoke
Disparagingly of a mind
The Fates had faultily designed:
Too indolent for modern times--
    Too fanciful, and full of whims--
For, talking to himself in rhymes,
    And scrawling never-heard-of hymns,
The idle life to which he clung
Was worthless as the songs he sung!
I saw him, in my vision, filled
    With rapture o'er a spray of bloom
    The wind threw in his lonely room;
And of the sweet perfume it spilled
He drank to drunkenness, and flung
His long hair back, and laughed and sung
And clapped his hands as children do
At fairy tales they listen to,
While from his flying quill there dripped
Such music on his manuscript
That he who listens to the words
May close his eyes and dream the birds
Are twittering on every hand
A language he can understand.
He journeyed on through life, unknown,
Without one friend to call his own;
He tired.  No kindly hand to press
The cooling touch of tenderness
Upon his burning brow, nor lift
To his parched lips God's freest gift--
No sympathetic sob or sigh
Of trembling lips--no sorrowing eye
Looked out through tears to see him die.
And Fame her greenest laurels brought
To crown a head that heeded not.
And this is Fame!  A thing, indeed,
That only comes when least the need:
The wisest minds of every age
The book of life from page to page
Have searched in vain; each lesson conned
Will promise it the page beyond--
Until the last, when dusk of night
Falls over it, and reason's light
Is smothered by that unknown friend
Who signs his nom de plume, The End
AN EMPTY NEST
I find an old deserted nest,
    Half-hidden in the underbrush:
A withered leaf, in phantom jest,
    Has nestled in it like a thrush
With weary, palpitating breast.
I muse as one in sad surprise
    Who seeks his childhood's home once more,
And finds it in a strange disguise
    Of vacant rooms and naked floor,
With sudden tear-drops in his eyes.
An empty nest!  It used to bear
    A happy burden, when the breeze
Of summer rocked it, and a pair
    Of merry tattlers told the trees
What treasures they had hidden there.
But Fancy, flitting through the gleams
    Of youth's sunshiny atmosphere,
Has fallen in the past, and seems,
    Like this poor leaflet nestled here,--
A phantom guest of empty dreams.
MY FATHER'S HALLS
My father's halls, so rich and rare,
Are desolate and bleak and bare;
My father's heart and halls are one,
Since I, their life and light, am gone.
O, valiant knight, with hand of steel
And heart of gold, hear my appeal:
Release me from the spoiler's charms,
And bear me to my father's arms.
THE HARP OF THE MINSTREL
The harp of the minstrel has never a tone
    As sad as the song in his bosom to-night,
For the magical touch of his fingers alone
    Can not waken the echoes that breathe it aright;
But oh! as the smile of the moon may impart
    A sorrow to one in an alien clime,
Let the light of the melody fall on the heart,
    And cadence his grief into musical rhyme.
The faces have faded, the eyes have grown dim
    That once were his passionate love and his pride;
And alas! all the smiles that once blossomed for him
    Have fallen away as the flowers have died.
The hands that entwined him the laureate's wreath
    And crowned him with fame in the long, long ago,
Like the laurels are withered and folded beneath
    The grass and the stubble--the frost and the snow.
Then sigh, if thou wilt, as the whispering strings
    Strive ever in vain for the utterance clear,
And think of the sorrowful spirit that sings,
    And jewel the song with the gem of a tear.
For the harp of the minstrel has never a tone
    As sad as the song in his bosom tonight,
And the magical touch of his fingers alone
    Can not waken the echoes that breathe it aright.
HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB
How slight a thing may set one's fancy drifting
    Upon the dead sea of the Past!--A view--
Sometimes an odor--or a rooster lifting
        A far-off "OOH! OOH-OOH!"
And suddenly we find ourselves astray
    In some wood's-pasture of the Long Ago--
Or idly dream again upon a day
        Of rest we used to know.
I bit an apple but a moment since--
    A wilted apple that the worm had spurned,--
Yet hidden in the taste were happy hints
        Of good old days returned.--
And so my heart, like some enraptured lute,
    Tinkles a tune so tender and complete,
God's blessing must be resting on the fruit--
        So bitter, yet so sweet!
A strange life--strangely passed!
    We may not read the soul
    When God has folded up the scroll
        In death at last.
We may not--dare not say of one
Whose task of life as well was done
As he could do it,--"This is lost,
And prayers may never pay the cost."
Who listens to the song
    That sings within the breast,
    Should ever hear the good expressed
        Above the wrong.
And he who leans an eager ear
To catch the discord, he will hear
The echoes of his own weak heart
Beat out the most discordant part.
Whose tender heart could build
    Affection's bower above
    A heart where baby nests of love
        Were ever filled,--
With upward growth may reach and twine
About the children, grown divine,
That once were his a time so brief
His very joy was more than grief.
O Sorrow--"Peace, be still!"
    God reads the riddle right;
    And we who grope in constant night
        But serve His will;
And when sometime the doubt is gone,
And darkness blossoms into dawn,--
"God keeps the good," we then will say:
" 'Tis but the dross He throws away."
A goddess, with a siren's grace,--
A sun-haired girl on a craggy place
Above a bay where fish-boats lay
Drifting about like birds of prey.
Wrought was she of a painter's dream,--
Wise only as are artists wise,
My artist-friend, Rolf Herschkelhiem,
With deep sad eyes of oversize,
And face of melancholy guise.
I pressed him that he tell to me
This masterpiece's history.
He turned--REturned--and thus beguiled
Me with the tale of Orlie Wilde:--
"We artists live ideally:
We breed our firmest facts of air;
We make our own reality--
We dream a thing and it is so.
The fairest scenes we ever see
Are mirages of memory;
The sweetest thoughts we ever know
We plagiarize from Long Ago:
And as the girl on canvas there
Is marvelously rare and fair,
'Tis only inasmuch as she
Is dumb and may not speak to me!"
He tapped me with his mahlstick--then
The picture,--and went on again:
"Orlie Wilde, the fisher's child--
I see her yet, as fair and mild
As ever nursling summer day
Dreamed on the bosom of the bay:
For I was twenty then, and went
Alone and long-haired--all content
With promises of sounding name
And fantasies of future fame,
And thoughts that now my mind discards
As editor a fledgling bard's.
"At evening once I chanced to go,
With pencil and portfolio,
Adown the street of silver sand
That winds beneath this craggy land,
To make a sketch of some old scurf
Of driftage, nosing through the surf
A splintered mast, with knarl and strand
Of rigging-rope and tattered threads
Of flag and streamer and of sail
That fluttered idly in the gale
Or whipped themselves to sadder shreds.
The while I wrought, half listlessly,
On my dismantled subject, came
A sea-bird, settling on the same
With plaintive moan, as though that he
Had lost his mate upon the sea;
And--with my melancholy trend--
It brought dim dreams half understood--
It wrought upon my morbid mood,--
I thought of my own voyagings
That had no end--that have no end.--
And, like the sea-bird, I made moan
That I was loveless and alone.
And when at last with weary wings
It went upon its wanderings,
With upturned face I watched its flight
Until this picture met my sight:
A goddess, with a siren's grace,--
A sun-haired girl on a craggy place
Above a bay where fish-boats lay
Drifting about like birds of prey.
"In airy poise she, gazing, stood
A machless form of womanhood,
That brought a thought that if for me
Such eyes had sought across the sea,
I could have swum the widest tide
That ever mariner defied,
And, at the shore, could on have gone
To that high crag she stood upon,
To there entreat and say, 'My Sweet,
Behold thy servant at thy feet.'
And to my soul I said:  'Above,
There stands the idol of thy love!'
"In this rapt, awed, ecstatic state
I gazed--till lo! I was aware
A fisherman had joined her there--
A weary man, with halting gait,
Who toiled beneath a basket's weight:
Her father, as I guessed, for she
Had run to meet him gleefully
And ta'en his burden to herself,
That perched upon her shoulder's shelf
So lightly that she, tripping, neared
A jutting crag and disappeared;
But she left the echo of a song
That thrills me yet, and will as long
As I have being! . . .
            . . . "Evenings came
And went,--but each the same--the same:
She watched above, and even so
I stood there watching from below;
Till, grown so bold at last, I sung,--
(What matter now the theme thereof!)--
It brought an answer from her tongue--
Faint as the murmur of a dove,
Yet all the more the song of love. . . .
"I turned and looked upon the bay,
With palm to forehead--eyes a-blur
In the sea's smile--meant but for her!--
I saw the fish-boats far away
In misty distance, lightly drawn
In chalk-dots on the horizon--
Looked back at her, long, wistfully;--
And, pushing off an empty skiff,
I beckoned her to quit the cliff
And yield me her rare company
Upon a little pleasure-cruise.--
She stood, as loathful to refuse,
To muse for full a moment's time,--
Then answered back in pantomime
'She feared some danger from the sea
Were she discovered thus with me.'
I motioned then to ask her if
I might not join her on the cliff
And back again, with graceful wave
Of lifted arm, she anwer gave
'She feared some danger from the sea.'
"Impatient, piqued, impetuous, I
Sprang in the boat, and flung 'Good-by'
From pouted mouth with angry hand,
And madly pulled away from land
With lusty stroke, despite that she
Held out her hands entreatingly:
And when far out, with covert eye
I shoreward glanced, I saw her fly
In reckless haste adown the crag,
Her hair a-flutter like a flag
Of gold that danced across the strand
In little mists of silver sand.
All curious I, pausing, tried
To fancy what it all implied,--
When suddenly I found my feet
Were wet; and, underneath the seat
On which I sat, I heard the sound
Of gurgling waters, and I found
The boat aleak alarmingly. . . .
I turned and looked upon the sea,
Whose every wave seemed mocking me;
I saw the fishers' sails once more--
In dimmer distance than before;
I saw the sea-bird wheeling by,
With foolish wish that _I_ could fly:
I thought of firm earth, home and friends--
I thought of everything that tends
To drive a man to frenzy and
To wholly lose his own command;
I thought of all my waywardness--
Thought of a mother's deep distress;
Of youthful follies yet unpurged--
Sins, as the seas, about me surged--
Thought of the printer's ready pen
To-morrow drowning me again;--
A million things without a name--
I thought of everything but--Fame. . . .
"A memory yet is in my mind,
So keenly clear and sharp-defined,
I picture every phase and line
Of life and death, and neither mine,--
While some fair seraph, golden-haired,
Bends over me,--with white arms bared,
That strongly plait themselves about
My drowning weight and lift me out--
With joy too great for words to state
Or tongue to dare articulate!
"And this seraphic ocean-child
And heroine was Orlie Wilde:
And thus it was I came to hear
Her voice's music in my ear--
Ay, thus it was Fate paved the way
That I walk desolate to-day!" . . .
The artist paused and bowed his face
Within his palms a little space,
While reverently on his form
I bent my gaze and marked a storm
That shook his frame as wrathfully
As some typhoon of agony,
And fraught with sobs--the more profound
For that peculiar laughing sound
We hear when strong men weep. . . .  I leant
With warmest sympathy--I bent
To stroke with soothing hand his brow,
He murmuring--"Tis over now!--
And shall I tie the silken thread
Of my frail romance?"  "Yes," I said.--
He faintly smiled; and then, with brow
In kneading palm, as one in dread--
His tasseled cap pushed from his head
" 'Her voice's music,' I repeat,"
He said,--" 'twas sweet--O passing sweet!--
Though she herself, in uttering
Its melody, proved not the thing
Of loveliness my dreams made meet
For me--there, yearning, at her feet--
Prone at her feet--a worshiper,--
For lo! she spake a tongue," moaned he,
"Unknown to me;--unknown to me
As mine to her--as mine to her."
THAT OTHER MAUD MULLER
Maud Muller worked at making hay,
And cleared her forty cents a day.
Her clothes were coarse, but her health was fine,
And so she worked in the sweet sunshine
Singing as glad as a bird in May
"Barbara Allen" the livelong day.
She often glanced at the far-off town,
And wondered if eggs were up or down.
And the sweet song died of a strange disease,
Leaving a phantom taste of cheese,
And an appetite and a nameless ache
For soda-water and ginger cake.
The judge rode slowly into view--
Stopped his horse in the shade and threw
His fine-cut out, while the blushing Maud
Marveled much at the kind he "chawed."
"He was dry as a fish," he said with a wink,
"And kind o' thought that a good square drink
Would brace him up."  So the cup was filled
With the crystal wine that old spring spilled;
And she gave it him with a sun-browned hand.
"Thanks," said the judge in accents bland;
"A thousand thanks! for a sweeter draught,
From a fairer hand"--but there he laughed.
And the sweet girl stood in the sun that day,
And raked the judge instead of the hay.
A MAN OF MANY PARTS
It was a man of many parts,
    Who in his coffer mind
Had stored the Classics and the Arts
    And Sciences combined;
The purest gems of poesy
    Came flashing from his pen--
The wholesome truths of History
    He gave his fellow men.
He knew the stars from "Dog" to Mars;
    And he could tell you, too,
Their distances--as though the cars
    Had often checked him through--
And time 'twould take to reach the sun,
    Or by the "Milky Way,"
Drop in upon the moon, or run
    The homeward trip, or stay.
With Logic at his fingers' ends,
    Theology in mind,
He often entertained his friends
    Until they died resigned;
And with inquiring mind intent
    Upon Alchemic arts
A dynamite experiment--
    .   .   .   .   .   .   .
    A man of many parts!
Who am I but the Frog--the Frog!
    My realm is the dark bayou,
And my throne is the muddy and moss-grown log
    That the poison-vine clings to--
And the blacksnakes slide in the slimy tide
    Where the ghost of the moon looks blue.
What am I but a King--a King!--
    For the royal robes I wear--
A scepter, too, and a signet-ring,
    As vassals and serfs declare:
And a voice, god wot, that is equaled not
    In the wide world anywhere!
I can talk to the Night--the Night!--
    Under her big black wing
She tells me the tale of the world outright,
    And the secret of everything;
For she knows you all, from the time you crawl,
    To the doom that death will bring.
The Storm swoops down, and he blows--and blows,--
    While I drum on his swollen cheek,
And croak in his angered eye that glows
    With the lurid lightning's streak;
While the rushes drown in the watery frown
    That his bursting passions leak.
And I can see through the sky--the sky--
    As clear as a piece of glass;
And I can tell you the how and why
    Of the things that come to pass--
And whether the dead are there instead,
    Or under the graveyard grass.
To your Sovereign lord all hail--all hail!--
    To your Prince on his throne so grim!
Let the moon swing low, and the high stars trail
    Their heads in the dust to him;
And the wide world sing:  Long live the King,
    And grace to his royal whim!
How many of my selves are dead?
    The ghosts of many haunt me: Lo,
The baby in the tiny bed
With rockers on, is blanketed
    And sleeping in the long ago;
And so I ask, with shaking head,
How many of my selves are dead?
A little face with drowsy eyes
    And lisping lips comes mistily
From out the faded past, and tries
The prayers a mother breathed with sighs
    Of anxious care in teaching me;
But face and form and prayers have fled--
How many of my selves are dead?
The little naked feet that slipped
    In truant paths, and led the way
Through dead'ning pasture-lands, and tripped
O'er tangled poison-vines, and dipped
    In streams forbidden--where are they?
In vain I listen for their tread--
How many of my selves are dead?
The awkward boy the teacher caught
    Inditing letters filled with love,
Who was compelled, for all he fought,
To read aloud each tender thought
    Of "Sugar Lump" and "Turtle Dove."
I wonder where he hides his head--
How many of my selves are dead?
The earnest features of a youth
    With manly fringe on lip and chin,
With eager tongue to tell the truth,
To offer love and life, forsooth,
    So brave was he to woo and win;
A prouder man was never wed--
How many of my selves are dead?
The great, strong hands so all-inclined
    To welcome toil, or smooth the care
From mother-brows, or quick to find
A leisure-scrap of any kind,
    To toss the baby in the air,
Or clap at babbling things it said--
How many of my selves are dead?
The pact of brawn and scheming brain--
    Conspiring in the plots of wealth,
Still delving, till the lengthened chain,
Unwindlassed in the mines of gain,
    Recoils with dregs of ruined health
And pain and poverty instead--
How many of my selves are dead?
The faltering step, the faded hair--
    Head, heart and soul, all echoing
With maundering fancies that declare
That life and love were never there,
    Nor ever joy in anything,
Nor wounded heart that ever bled--
How many of my selves are dead?
So many of my selves are dead,
    That, bending here above the brink
Of my last grave, with dizzy head,
I find my spirit comforted,
    For all the idle things I think:
It can but be a peaceful bed,
Since all my other selves are dead.
A DREAM OF LONG AGO
Lying listless in the mosses
Underneath a tree that tosses
Flakes of sunshine, and embosses
    Its green shadow with the snow--
Drowsy-eyed, I sink in slumber
Born of fancies without number--
Tangled fancies that encumber
    Me with dreams of long ago.
Ripples of the river singing;
And the water-lilies swinging
Bells of Parian, and ringing
    Peals of perfume faint and fine,
While old forms and fairy faces
Leap from out their hiding-places
In the past, with glad embraces
    Fraught with kisses sweet as wine.
Willows dip their slender fingers
O'er the little fisher's stringers,
While he baits his hook and lingers
    Till the shadows gather dim;
And afar off comes a calling
Like the sounds of water falling,
With the lazy echoes drawling
    Messages of haste to him.
Little naked feet that tinkle
Through the stubble-fields, and twinkle
Down the winding road, and sprinkle
    Little mists of dusty rain,
While in pasture-lands the cattle
Cease their grazing with a rattle
Of the bells whose clappers tattle
    To their masters down the lane.
Trees that hold their tempting treasures
O'er the orchard's hedge embrasures,
Furnish their forbidden pleasures
    As in Eden lands of old;
And the coming of the master
Indicates a like disaster
To the frightened heart that faster
    Beats pulsations manifold.
Puckered lips whose pipings tingle
In staccato notes that mingle
Musically with the jingle-
    Haunted winds that lightly fan
Mellow twilights, crimson-tinted
By the sun, and picture-printed
Like a book that sweetly hinted
    Of the Nights Arabian.
Porticoes with columns plaited
And entwined with vines and freighted
With a bloom all radiated
    With the light of moon and star;
Where some tender voice is winging
In sad flights of song, and singing
To the dancing fingers flinging
    Dripping from the sweet guitar.
Would my dreams were never taken
From me: that with faith unshaken
I might sleep and never waken
    On a weary world of woe!
Links of love would never sever
As I dreamed them, never, never!
I would glide along forever
    Through the dreams of long ago.
The Crankadox leaned o'er the edge of the moon
    And wistfully gazed on the sea
Where the Gryxabodill madly whistled a tune
    To the air of "Ti-fol-de-ding-dee."
The quavering shriek of the Fly-up-the-creek
    Was fitfully wafted afar
To the Queen of the Wunks as she powdered her cheek
    With the pulverized rays of a star.
The Gool closed his ear on the voice of the Grig,
    And his heart it grew heavy as lead
As he marked the Baldekin adjusting his wing
    On the opposite side of his head,
And the air it grew chill as the Gryxabodill
    Raised his dank, dripping fins to the skies,
And plead with the Plunk for the use of her bill
    To pick the tears out of his eyes.
The ghost of the Zhack flitted by in a trance,
    And the Squidjum hid under a tub
As he heard the loud hooves of the Hooken advance
    With a rub-a-dub--dub-a-dub--dub!
And the Crankadox cried, as he lay down and died,
    "My fate there is none to bewail,"
While the Queen of the Wunks drifted over the tide
    With a long piece of crape to her tail.
Queenly month of indolent repose!
    I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume,
    As in thy downy lap of clover-bloom
I nestle like a drowsy child and doze
The lazy hours away.  The zephyr throws
    The shifting shuttle of the Summer's loom
    And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom
Before thy listless feet.  The lily blows
A bugle-call of fragrance o'er the glade;
    And, wheeling into ranks, with plume and spear,
Thy harvest-armies gather on parade;
    While, faint and far away, yet pure and clear,
A voice calls out of alien lands of shade:--
    All hail the Peerless Goddess of the Year!
WASH LOWRY'S REMINISCENCE
And you're the poet of this concern?
    I've seed your name in print
A dozen times, but I'll be dern
    I'd 'a' never 'a' took the hint
O' the size you are--fer I'd pictured you
    A kind of a tallish man--
Dark-complected and sallor too,
    And on the consumpted plan.
'Stid o' that you're little and small,
    With a milk-and-water face--
'Thout no snap in your eyes at all,
    Er nothin' to suit the case!
Kind o'look like a--I don't know--
    One o' these fair-ground chaps
That runs a thingamajig to blow,
    Er a candy-stand perhaps.
'Ll I've allus thought that poetry
    Was a sort of a--some disease--
Fer I knowed a poet once, and he
    Was techy and hard to please,
And moody-like, and kindo' sad
    And didn't seem to mix
With other folks--like his health was bad,
    Er his liver out o' fix.
Used to teach fer a livelihood--
    There's folks in Pipe Crick yit
Remembers him--and he was good
    At cipherin' I'll admit--
And posted up in G'ography
    But when it comes to tact,
And gittin' along with the school, you see,
    He fizzled, and that's a fact!
Boarded with us fer fourteen months
    And in all that time I'll say
We never catched him a-sleepin' once
    Er idle a single day.
But shucks!  It made him worse and worse
    A-writin' rhymes and stuff,
And the school committee used to furse
    'At the school warn't good enough.
He warn't as strict as he ought to been,
    And never was known to whip,
Or even to keep a scholard in
    At work at his penmanship;
'Stid o' that he'd learn 'em notes,
    And have 'em every day,
Spilin' hymns and a-splittin' th'oats
    With his "Do-sol-fa-me-ra!"
Tel finally it was jest agreed
    We'd have to let him go,
And we all felt bad--we did indeed,
    When we come to tell him so;
Fer I remember, he turned so white,
    And smiled so sad, somehow,
I someway felt it wasn't right,
    And I'm shore it wasn't now!
He hadn't no complaints at all--
    He bid the school adieu,
And all o' the scholards great and small
    Was mighty sorry too!
And when he closed that afternoon
    They sung some lines that he
Had writ a purpose, to some old tune
    That suited the case, you see.
And then he lingered and delayed
    And wouldn't go away--
And shet himself in his room and stayed
    A-writin' from day to day;
And kep' a-gittin' stranger still,
    And thinner all the time,
You know, as any feller will
    On nothin' else but rhyme.
He didn't seem adzactly right,
    Er like he was crossed in love,
He'd work away night after night,
    And walk the floor above;
We'd hear him read and talk, and sing
    So lonesome-like and low,
My woman's cried like ever'thing--
    'Way in the night, you know.
And when at last he tuck to bed
    He'd have his ink and pen;
"So's he could coat the muse" he said,
    "He'd die contented then";
And jest before he past away
    He read with dyin' gaze
The epitaph that stands to-day
    To show you where he lays.
And ever sence then I've allus thought
    That poetry's some disease,
And them like you that's got it ought
    To watch their q's and p's ;
And leave the sweets of rhyme, to sup
    On the wholesome draughts of toil,
And git your health recruited up
    By plowin' in rougher soil.
THE ANCIENT PRINTERMAN
"O Printerman of sallow face,
    And look of absent  guile,
Is it the 'copy' on your 'case'
    That causes you to smile?
Or is it some old treasure scrap
    You cull from Memory's file?
"I fain would guess its mystery--
    For often I can trace
A fellow dreamer's history
    Whene'er it haunts the face;
Your fancy's running riot
    In a retrospective race!
"Ah, Printerman, you're straying
    Afar from 'stick' and type--
Your heart has 'gone a-maying,'
    And you taste old kisses, ripe
Again on lips that pucker
    At your old asthmatic pipe!
"You are dreaming of old pleasures
    That have faded from your view;
And the music-burdened measures
    Of the laughs you listen to
Are now but angel-echoes--
    O, have I spoken true?"
The ancient Printer hinted
    With a motion full of grace
To where the words were printed
    On a card above his "case,"--
"I am deaf and dumb!" I left him
    With a smile upon his face.
PRIOR TO MISS BELLE'S APPEARANCE
What makes you come HERE fer, Mister,
    So much to our house?--SAY?
Come to see our big sister!--
An' Charley he says 'at you kissed her
    An' he ketched you, th'uther day!--
Didn' you, Charley?--But we p'omised Belle
An' crossed our heart to never to tell--
'Cause SHE gived us some o' them-er
Chawk'lut-drops 'at you bringed to her!
Charley he's my little b'uther--
    An' we has a-mostest fun,
Don't we, Charley?--Our Muther,
Whenever we whips one anuther,
    Tries to whip US--an' we RUN--
Don't we, Charley?--An' nen, bime-by,
Nen she gives us cake--an' pie--
Don't she, Charley?--when we come in
An' pomise never to do it ag'in!
HE'S named Charley.--I'm WILLIE--
    An' I'm got the purtiest name!
But Uncle Bob HE calls me "Billy"--
Don't he, Charley?--'N' our filly
    We named "Billy," the same
Ist like me!  An' our Ma said
'At "Bob puts foolishnuss into our head!"--
Didn' she, Charley?--An' SHE don't know
Much about BOYS!--'Cause Bob said so!
Baby's a funniest feller!
    Nain't no hair on his head--
IS they, Charley?--It's meller
Wite up there!  An' ef Belle er
    Us ask wuz WE that way, Ma said,--
"Yes; an' yer PA'S head wuz soft as that,
An' it's that way yet!"--An' Pa grabs his hat
An' says, "Yes, childern, she's right about Pa--
'Cause that's the reason he married yer Ma!"
An' our Ma says 'at "Belle couldn'
    Ketch nothin' at all but ist 'BOWS!"--
An' PA says 'at "you're soft as puddun!"--
An' UNCLE BOB says "you're a good-un--
    'Cause he can tell by yer nose!"-
Didn' he, Charley?--An' when Belle'll play
In the poller on th' pianer, some day,
Bob makes up funny songs about you,
Till she gits mad-like he wants her to!
Our sister FANNY she's 'LEVEN
    Years old!  'At's mucher 'an _I_--
Ain't it, Charley? . . .  I'm seven!--
But our sister Fanny's in HEAVEN!
    Nere's where you go ef you die!--
Don't you, Charley?--Nen you has WINGS--
IST LIKE FANNY!--an' PURTIEST THINGS!--
Don't you, Charley?--An' nen you can FLY--
Ist fly-an' EVER'thing! . . . I Wisht I'D die!
WHEN MOTHER COMBED MY HAIR
When Memory, with gentle hand,
Has led me to that foreign land
Of childhood days, I long to be
Again the boy on bended knee,
With head a-bow, and drowsy smile
Hid in a mother's lap the while,
With tender touch and kindly care,
She bends above and combs my hair.
Ere threats of Time, or ghosts of cares
Had paled it to the hue it wears,
Its tangled threads of amber light
Fell o'er a forehead, fair and white,
That only knew the light caress
Of loving hands, or sudden press
Of kisses that were sifted there
The times when mother combed my hair.
But its last gleams of gold have slipped
Away; and Sorrow's manuscript
Is fashioned of the snowy brow--
So lined and underscored now
That you, to see it, scarce would guess
It e'er had felt the fond caress
Of loving lips, or known the care
Of those dear hands that combed my hair.
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
I am so tired!  Let me be
A moment at my mother's knee;
One moment--that I may forget
The trials waiting for me yet:
One moment free from every pain--
O!  Mother!  Comb my hair again!
And I will, oh, so humbly bow,
For I've a wife that combs it now.
A WRANGDILLION
Dexery-tethery! down in the dike,
    Under the ooze and the slime,
Nestles the wraith of a reticent Gryke,
    Blubbering bubbles of rhyme:
Though the reeds touch him and tickle his teeth--
    Though the Graigroll and the Cheest
Pluck at the leaves of his laureate-wreath,
    Nothing affects him the least.
He sinks to the dregs in the dead o' the night,
    And he shuffles the shadows about
As he gathers the stars in a nest of delight
    And sets there and hatches them out:
The Zhederrill peers from his watery mine
    In scorn with the Will-o'-the-wisp,
As he twinkles his eyes in a whisper of shine
    That ends in a luminous lisp.
The Morning is born like a baby of gold,
    And it lies in a spasm of pink,
And rallies the Cheest for the horrible cold
    He has dragged to the willowy brink,
The Gryke blots his tears with a scrap of his grief,
    And growls at the wary Graigroll
As he twunkers a tune on a Tiljicum leaf
    And hums like a telegraph pole.
GEORGE MULLEN'S CONFESSION
For the sake of guilty conscience, and the heart that ticks the
Of the clockworks of my nature, I desire to say that I'm
A weak and sinful creature, as regards my daily walk
The last five years and better.  It ain't worth while to talk--
I've been too mean to tell it!  I've been so hard, you see,
And full of pride, and--onry--now there's the word for me--
Just onry--and to show you, I'll give my history
With vital points in question, and I think you'll all agree.
I was always stiff and stubborn since I could recollect,
And had an awful temper, and never would reflect;
And always into trouble--I remember once at school
The teacher tried to flog me, and I reversed that rule.
O I was bad I tell you!  And it's a funny move
That a fellow wild as I was could ever fall in love;
And it's a funny notion that an animal like me,
Under a girl's weak fingers was as tame as tame could be!
But it's so, and sets me thinking of the easy way she had
Of cooling down my temper--though I'd be fighting mad.
"My Lion Queen" I called her--when a spell of mine occurred
She'd come in a den of feelings and quell them with a word.
I'll tell you how she loved me--and what her people thought:
When I asked to marry Annie they said "they reckoned not--
That I cut too many didoes and monkey-shines to suit
Their idea of a son-in-law, and I could go, to boot!"
I tell you that thing riled me!  Why, I felt my face turn white,
And my teeth shut like a steel trap, and the fingers of my right
Hand pained me with their pressure--all the rest's a mystery
Till I heard my Annie saying--"I'm going, too, you see."
We were coming through the gateway, and she wavered for a spell
When she heard her mother crying and her raving father yell
That she wa'n't no child of his'n--like an actor in a play
We saw at Independence, coming through the other day.
Well! that's the way we started.  And for days and weeks and
And even years we journeyed on, regretting never once
Of starting out together upon the path of life--
Akind o' sort o' husband, but a mighty loving wife,--
And the cutest little baby--little Grace--I see her now
A-standin' on the pig-pen as her mother milked the cow--
And I can hear her shouting--as I stood unloading straw,--
"I'm ain't as big as papa, but I'm biggerest'n ma."
Now folks that never married don't seem to understand
That a little baby's language is the sweetest ever planned--
Why, I tell you it's pure music, and I'll just go on to say
That I sometimes have a notion that the angels talk that way!
There's a chapter in this story I'd be happy to destroy;
I could burn it up before you with a mighty sight of joy;
But I'll go ahead and give it--not in detail, no, my friend,
For it takes five years of reading before you find the end.
My Annie's folks relented--at least, in some degree;
They sent one time for Annie, but they didn't send for me.
The old man wrote the message with a heart as hot and dry
As a furnace--"Annie Mullen, come and see your mother die."
I saw the slur intended--why I fancied I could see
The old man shoot the insult like a poison dart at me;
And in that heat of passion I swore an inward oath
That if Annie pleased her father she could never please us both.
I watched her--dark and sullen--as she hurried on her shawl;
I watched her--calm and cruel, though I saw her tear-drops fall;
I watched her--cold and heartless, though I heard her moaning,
For mercy from high Heaven--and I smiled throughout it all.
Why even when she kissed me, and her tears were on my brow,
As she murmured, "George, forgive me--I must go to mother now!"
Such hate there was within me that I answered not at all,
But calm, and cold and cruel, I smiled throughout it all.
But a shadow in the doorway caught my eye, and then the face
Full of innocence and sunshine of little baby Grace.
And I snatched her up and kissed her, and I softened through and
For a minute when she told me "I must kiss her muvver too."
I remember, at the starting, how I tried to freeze again
As I watched them slowly driving down the little crooked lane--
When Annie shouted something that ended in a cry,
And how I tried to whistle and it fizzled in a sigh.
I remember running after, with a glimmer in my sight--
Pretending I'd discovered that the traces wasn't right;
And the last that I remember, as they disappeared from view,
Was little Grace a-calling, "I see papa!  Howdy-do!"
And left alone to ponder, I again took up my hate
For the old man who would chuckle that I was desolate;
And I mouthed my wrongs in mutters till my pride called up the
His last insult had given me--until I smiled again
Till the wild beast in my nature was raging in the den--
With no one now to quell it, and I wrote a letter then
Full of hissing things, and heated with so hot a heat of hate
That my pen flashed out black lightning at a most terrific rate.
I wrote that "she had wronged me when she went away from me--
Though to see her dying mother 'twas her father's victory,
And a woman that could waver when her husband's pride was rent
Was no longer worthy of it."  And I shut the house and went.
To tell of my long exile would be of little good--
Though I couldn't half-way tell it, and I wouldn't if I could!
I could tell of California--of a wild and vicious life;
Of trackless plains, and mountains, and the Indian's
scalping-knife.
I could tell of gloomy forests howling wild with threats of
I could tell of fiery deserts that have scorched me with their
I could tell of wretched outcasts by the hundreds, great and
And could claim the nasty honor of the greatest of them all.
I could tell of toil and hardship; and of sickness and disease,
And hollow-eyed starvation, but I tell you, friend, that these
Are trifles in comparison with what a fellow feels
With that bloodhound, Remorsefulness, forever at his heels.
I remember--worn and weary of the long, long years of care,
When the frost of time was making early harvest of my hair--
I remember, wrecked and hopeless of a rest beneath the sky,
My resolve to quit the country, and to seek the East, and die.
I remember my long journey, like a dull, oppressive dream,
Across the empty prairies till I caught the distant gleam
Of a city in the beauty of its broad and shining stream
On whose bosom, flocked together, float the mighty swans of
I remember drifting with them till I found myself again
In the rush and roar and rattle of the engine and the train;
And when from my surroundings something spoke of child and wife,
It seemed the train was rumbling through a tunnel in my life.
Then I remember something--like a sudden burst of light--
That don't exactly tell it, but I couldn't tell it right--
A something clinging to me with its arms around my neck--
A little girl, for instance--or an angel, I expect--
For she kissed me, cried and called me "her dear papa," and I
My heart was pure virgin gold, and just about to melt--
And so it did--it melted in a mist of gleaming rain
When she took my hand and whispered, "My mama's on the train."
There's some things I can dwell on, and get off pretty well,
But the balance of this story I know I couldn't tell;
So I ain't going to try it, for to tell the reason why--
I'm so chicken-hearted lately I'd be certain 'most to cry.
"tired out!"  Yet face and brow
Do not look aweary now,
And the eyelids lie like two
Pure, white rose-leaves washed with dew.
Was her life so hard a task?--
Strange that we forget to ask
What the lips now dumb for aye
Could have told us yesterday!
"Tired out!"  A faded scrawl
Pinned upon the ragged shawl--
Nothing else to leave a clue
Even of a friend or two,
Who might come to fold the hands,
Or smooth back the dripping strands
Of her tresses, or to wet
Them anew with fond regret.
"Tired out!"  We can but guess
Of her little happiness--
Long ago, in some fair land,
When a lover held her hand
In the dream that frees us all,
Soon or later, from its thrall--
Be it either false or true,
We, at last, must tire, too.
Fold the little waxen hands
Lightly.  Let your warmest tears
Speak regrets, but never fears,--
    Heaven understands!
Let the sad heart, o'er the tomb,
Lift again and burst in bloom
Fragrant with a prayer as sweet
As the lily at your feet.
Bend and kiss the folded eyes--
They are only feigning sleep
While their truant glances peep
    Into Paradise.
See, the face, though cold and white,
Holds a hint of some delight
E'en with Death, whose finger-tips
Rest upon the frozen lips.
When, within the years to come,
Vanished echoes live once more--
Pattering footsteps on the floor,
    And the sounds of home,--
Let your arms in fancy fold
Little Harlie as of old--
As of old and as he waits
At the City's golden gates.
SAY SOMETHING TO ME
Say something to me!  I've waited so long--
    Waited and wondered in vain;
Only a sentence would fall like a song
    Over this listening pain--
Over a silence that glowers and frowns,--
    Even my pencil to-night
Slips in the dews of my sorrow and wounds
    Each tender word that I write.
Say something to me--if only to tell
    Me you remember the past;
Let the sweet words, like the notes of a bell,
    Ring out my vigil at last.
O it were better, far better than this
    Doubt and distrust in the breast,--
For in the wine of a fanciful kiss
    I could taste Heaven, and--rest.
Say something to me!  I kneel and I plead,
    In my wild need, for a word;
If my poor heart from this silence were freed,
    I could soar up like a bird
In the glad morning, and twitter and sing,
    Carol and warble and cry
Blithe as the lark as he cruises awing
    Over the deeps of the sky.
Leonainie--Angels named her;
    And they took the light
Of the laughing stars and framed her
    In a smile of white;
        And they made her hair of gloomy
        Midnight, and her eyes of bloomy
        Moonshine, and they brought her to me
    In the solemn night.--
In a solemn night of summer,
    When my heart of gloom
Blossomed up to greet the comer
    Like a rose in bloom;
        All forebodings that distressed me
        I forgot as Joy caressed me--
        (LYING Joy! that caught and pressed me
    In the arms of doom!)
Only spake the little lisper
    In the Angel-tongue;
Yet I, listening, heard her whisper,--
    "Songs are only sung
        Here below that they may grieve you--
        Tales but told you to deceive you,--
        So must Leonainie leave you
    While her love is young."
Then God smiled and it was morning.
    Matchless and supreme
Heaven's glory seemed adorning
    Earth with its esteem:
        Every heart but mine seemed gifted
        With the voice of prayer, and lifted
        Where my Leonainie drifted
    From me like a dream.
A TEST OF LOVE
"Now who shall say he loves me not."
He wooed her first in an atmosphere
    Of tender and low-breathed sighs;
But the pang of her laugh went cutting clear
    To the soul of the enterprise;
"You beg so pert for the kiss you seek
    It reminds me, John," she said,
"Of a poodle pet that jumps to 'speak'
    For a crumb or a crust of bread."
And flashing up, with the blush that flushed
    His face like a tableau-light,
Came a bitter threat that his white lips hushed
    To a chill, hoarse-voiced "Good night!"
And again her laugh, like a knell that tolled,
    And a wide-eyed mock surprise,--
"Why, John," she said, "you have taken cold
    In the chill air of your sighs!"
And then he turned, and with teeth tight clenched,
    He told her he hated her,--
That his love for her from his heart he wrenched
    Like a corpse from a sepulcher.
And then she called him "a ghoul all red
    With the quintessence of crimes"--
"But I know you love me now," she said,
    And kissed him a hundred times.
FATHER WILLIAM
A NEW VERSION BY LEE O. HARRIS AND JAMES
WHITCOMB RILEY
"You are old, Father William, and though one would think
    All the veins in your body were dry,
Yet the end of your nose is red as a pink;
    I beg your indulgence, but why?"
"You see," Father William replied, "in my youth--
    'Tis a thing I must ever regret--
It worried me so to keep up with the truth
    That my nose has a flush on it yet."
"You are old," said the youth, "and I grieve to detect
    A feverish gleam in your eye;
Yet I'm willing to give you full time to reflect.
    Now, pray, can you answer me why?"
"Alas," said the sage, "I was tempted to choose
    Me a wife in my earlier years,
And the grief, when I think that she didn't refuse,
    Has reddened my eyelids with tears."
"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
    "And you never touch wine, you declare,
Yet you sleep with your feet at the head of the bed;
    Now answer me that if you dare."
"In my youth," said the sage, "I was told it was true,
    That the world turned around in the night;
I cherished the lesson, my boy, and I knew
    That at morning my feet would be right."
"You are old," said the youth, "and it grieved me to note,
    As you recently fell through the door,
That 'full as a goose' had been chalked on your coat;
    Now answer me that I implore."
"My boy," said the sage, "I have answered you fair,
    While you stuck to the point in dispute,
But this is a personal matter, and there
    Is my answer--the toe of my boot."
WHAT THE WIND SAID
'I muse to-day, in a listless way,
    In the gleam of a summer land;
I close my eyes as a lover may
    At the touch of his sweetheart's hand,
And I hear these things in the whisperings
    Of the zephyrs round me fanned':--
I am the Wind, and I rule mankind,
    And I hold a sovereign reign
Over the lands, as God designed,
    And the waters they contain:
Lo! the bound of the wide world round
    Falleth in my domain!
I was born on a stormy morn
    In a kingdom walled with snow,
Whose crystal cities laugh to scorn
    The proudest the world can show;
And the daylight's glare is frozen there
    In the breath of the blasts that blow.
Life to me was a jubilee
    From the first of my youthful days:
Clinking my icy toys with glee--
    Playing my childish plays;
Filling my hands with the silver sands
    To scatter a thousand ways:
Chasing the flakes that the Polar shakes
    From his shaggy coat of white,
Or hunting the trace of the track he makes
    And sweeping it from sight,
As he turned to glare from the slippery stair
    Of the iceberg's farthest height.
Till I grew so strong that I strayed ere long
    From my home of ice and chill;
With an eager heart and a merry song
    I traveled the snows until
I heard the thaws in the ice-crag's jaws
    Crunched with a hungry will;
And the angry crash of the waves that dash
    Themselves on the jagged shore
Where the splintered masts of the ice-wrecks flash,
    And the frightened breakers roar
In wild unrest on the ocean's breast
    For a thousand leagues or more.
And the grand old sea invited me
    With a million beckoning hands,
And I spread my wings for a flight as free
    As ever a sailor plans
When his thoughts are wild and his heart beguiled
    With the dreams of foreign lands.
I passed a ship on its homeward trip,
    With a weary and toil-worn crew;
And I kissed their flag with a welcome lip,
    And so glad a gale I blew
That the sailors quaffed their grog and laughed
    At the work I made them do.
I drifted by where sea-groves lie
    Like brides in the fond caress
Of the warm sunshine and the tender sky--
    Where the ocean, passionless
And tranquil, lies like a child whose eyes
    Are blurred with drowsiness.
I drank the air and the perfume there,
    And bathed in a fountain's spray;
And I smoothed the wings and the plumage rare
    Of a bird for his roundelay,
And fluttered a rag from a signal-crag
    For a wretched castaway.
With a sea-gull resting on my breast,
    I launched on a madder flight:
And I lashed the waves to a wild unrest,
    And howled with a fierce delight
Till the daylight slept; and I wailed and wept
    Like a fretful babe all night.
For I heard the boom of a gun strike doom;
    And the gleam of a blood-red star
Glared at me through the mirk and gloom
    From the lighthouse tower afar;
And I held my breath at the shriek of death
    That came from the harbor bar.
For I am the Wind, and I rule mankind,
    And I hold a sovereign reign
Over the lands, as God designed,
    And the waters they contain:
Lo! the bound of the wide world round
    Falleth in my domain!
I journeyed on, when the night was gone,
    O'er a coast of oak and pine;
And I followed a path that a stream had drawn
    Through a land of vale and vine,
And here and there was a village fair
    In a nest of shade and shine.
I passed o'er lakes where the sunshine shakes
    And shivers his golden lance
On the glittering shield of the wave that breaks
    Where the fish-boats dip and dance,
And the trader sails where the mist unveils
    The glory of old romance.
I joyed to stand where the jeweled hand
    Of the maiden-morning lies
On the tawny brow of the mountain-land.
    Where the eagle shrieks and cries,
And holds his throne to himself alone
    From the light of human eyes.
Adown deep glades where the forest shades
    Are dim as the dusk of day--
Where only the foot of the wild beast wades,
    Or the Indian dares to stray,
As the blacksnakes glide through the reeds and hide
    In the swamp-depths grim and gray.
And I turned and fled from the place of dread
    To the far-off haunts of men.
"In the city's heart is rest," I said,--
    But I found it not, and when
I saw but care and vice reign there
    I was filled with wrath again:
And I blew a spark in the midnight dark
    Till it flashed to an angry flame
And scarred the sky with a lurid mark
    As red as the blush of shame:
And a hint of hell was the dying yell
    That up from the ruins came.
The bells went wild, and the black smoke piled
    Its pillars against the night,
Till I gathered them, like flocks defiled,
    And scattered them left and right,
While the holocaust's red tresses tossed
    As a maddened Fury's might.
"Ye overthrown!" did I jeer and groan--
    "Ho! who is your master?--say!--
Ye shapes that writhe in the slag and moan
    Your slow-charred souls away--
Ye worse than worst of things accurst--
    Ye dead leaves of a day!"
I am the Wind, and I rule mankind,
    And I hold a sovereign reign
Over the lands, as God designed,
    And the waters they contain:
Lo! the bound of the wide world round
    Falleth in my domain!
    .   .   .   .   .   .   .
'I wake, as one from a dream half done,
    And gaze with a dazzled eye
On an autumn leaf like a scrap of sun
    That the wind goes whirling by,
While afar I hear, with a chill of fear,
    The winter storm-king sigh.'
The warm pulse of the nation has grown chill;
    The muffled heart of Freedom, like a knell,
Throbs solemnly for one whose earthly will
    Wrought every mission well.
Whose glowing reason towered above the sea
    Of dark disaster like a beacon light,
And led the Ship of State, unscathed and free,
    Out of the gulfs of night.
When Treason, rabid-mouthed, and fanged with steel,
    Lay growling o'er the bones of fallen braves,
And when beneath the tyrant's iron heel
    Were ground the hearts of slaves,
And War, with all his train of horrors, leapt
    Across the fortress-walls of Liberty
With havoc e'en the marble goddess wept
    With tears of blood to see.
Throughout it all his brave and kingly mind
    Kept loyal vigil o'er the patriot's vow,
And yet the flag he lifted to the wind
    Is drooping o'er him now.
And Peace--all pallid from the battle-field
    When first again it hovered o'er the land
And found his voice above it like a shield,
    Had nestled in his hand.
    .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
O throne of State and gilded Senate halls--
    Though thousands throng your aisles and galleries--
How empty are ye! and what silence falls
    On your hilarities!
And yet, though great the loss to us appears,
    The consolation sweetens all our pain--
Though hushed the voice, through all the coming years
    Its echoes will remain.
AN AUTUMNAL EXTRAVAGANZA
With a sweeter voice than birds
    Dare to twitter in their sleep,
Pipe for me a tune of words,
    Till my dancing fancies leap
Into freedom vaster far
Than the realms of Reason are!
Sing for me with wilder fire
    Than the lover ever sung,
From the time he twanged the lyre
    When the world was baby-young.
O my maiden Autumn, you--
You have filled me through and through
With a passion so intense,
All of earthly eloquence
    Fails, and falls, and swoons away
In your presence.  Like as one
Who essays to look the sun
    Fairly in the face, I say,
Though my eyes you dazzle blind
Greater dazzled is my mind.
So, my Autumn, let me kneel
    At your feet and worship you!
Be my sweetheart; let me feel
Your caress; and tell me too
Why your smiles bewilder me--
Glancing into laughter, then
Trancing into calm again,
Till your meaning drowning lies
In the dim depths of your eyes.
Let me see the things you see
Down the depths of mystery!
Blow aside the hazy veil
    From the daylight of your face
With the fragrance-ladened gale
    Of your spicy breath and chase
    Every dimple to its place.
Lift your gipsy finger-tips
To the roses of your lips,
And fling down to me a bud--
    But an unblown kiss--but one--
It shall blossom in my blood,
    Even after life is done--
When I dare to touch the brow
Your rare hair is veiling now--
When the rich, red-golden strands
Of the treasure in my hands
Shall be all of worldly worth
Heaven lifted from the earth,
Like a banner to have set
On its highest minaret.
It tossed its head at the wooing breeze;
    And the sun, like a bashful swain,
Beamed on it through the waving trees
    With a passion all in vain,--
For my rose laughed in a crimson glee,
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.
The honey-bee came there to sing
    His love through the languid hours,
And vaunt of his hives, as a proud old king
    Might boast of his palace-towers:
But my rose bowed in a mockery,
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.
The humming-bird, like a courtier gay,
    Dipped down with a dalliant song,
And twanged his wings through the roundelay
    Of love the whole day long:
Yet my rose turned from his minstrelsy
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.
The firefly came in the twilight dim
    My red, red rose to woo--
Till quenched was the flame of love in him,
    And the light of his lantern too,
As my rose wept with dewdrops three
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.
And I said:  I will cull my own sweet rose--
    Some day I will claim as mine
The priceless worth of the flower that knows
    No change, but a bloom divine--
The bloom of a fadeless constancy
That hides in the leaves in wait for me!
But time passed by in a strange disguise,
    And I marked it not, but lay
In a lazy dream, with drowsy eyes,
    Till the summer slipped away,
And a chill wind sang in a minor key:
"Where is the rose that waits for thee?"
    .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
I dream to-day, o'er a purple stain
    Of bloom on a withered stalk,
Pelted down by the autumn rain
    In the dust of the garden-walk,
That an Angel-rose in the world to be
Will hide in the leaves in wait for me.
Who would be
    A merman gay,
    Singing alone,
    Sitting alone,
With a mermaid's knee,
    For instance--hey--
        For a throne?
I would be a merman gay;
    I would sit and sing the whole day long;
I would fill my lungs with the strongest brine,
    And squirt it up in a spray of song,
And soak my head in my liquid voice;
    I'd curl my tail in curves divine,
And let each curve in a kink rejoice.
    I'd tackle the mermaids under the sea,
And yank 'em around till they yanked me,
        Sportively, sportively;
And then we would wiggle away, away,
To the pea-green groves on the coast of day,
        Chasing each other sportively.
There would be neither moon nor star;
But the waves would twang like a wet guitar
Low thunder and thrum in the darkness grum--
        Neither moon nor star;
We would shriek aloud in the dismal dales--
Shriek at each other and squawk and squeal,
        "All night!" rakishly, rakishly;
They would pelt me with oysters and wiggletails,
Laughing and clapping their hands at me,
        "All night!" prankishly, prankishly;
But I would toss them back in mine,
Lobsters and turtles of quaint design;
Then leaping out in an abrupt way,
I'd snatch them bald in my devilish glee,
And skip away when they snatched at me,
        Fiendishly, fiendishly.
O, what a jolly life I'd lead,
Ah, what a "bang-up" life indeed!
Soft are the mermaids under the sea--
We would live merrily, merrily.
THE RAINY MORNING
The dawn of the day was dreary,
    And the lowering clouds o'erhead
Wept in a silent sorrow
    Where the sweet sunshine lay dead;
And a wind came out of the eastward
    Like an endless sigh of pain,
And the leaves fell down in the pathway
    And writhed in the falling rain.
I had tried in a brave endeavor
    To chord my harp with the sun,
But the strings would slacken ever,
    And the task was a weary one:
And so, like a child impatient
    And sick of a discontent,
I bowed in a shower of tear-drops
    And mourned with the instrument.
And lo! as I bowed, the splendor
    Of the sun bent over me,
With a touch as warm and tender
    As a father's hand might be:
And, even as I felt its presence,
    My clouded soul grew bright,
And the tears, like the rain of morning,
    Melted in mists of light.
WE ARE NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN
We are not always glad when we smile:
    Though we wear a fair face and are gay,
        And the world we deceive
        May not ever believe
    We could laugh in a happier way.--
Yet, down in the deeps of the soul,
    Ofttimes, with our faces aglow,
        There's an ache and a moan
        That we know of alone,
    And as only the hopeless may know.
We are not always glad when we smile,--
    For the heart, in a tempest of pain,
        May live in the guise
        Of a smile in the eyes
    As a rainbow may live in the rain;
And the stormiest night of our woe
    May hang out a radiant star
        Whose light in the sky
        Of despair is a lie
    As black as the thunder-clouds are.
We are not always glad when we smile!--
    But the conscience is quick to record,
        All the sorrow and sin
        We are hiding within
    Is plain in the sight of the Lord:
And ever, O ever, till pride
    And evasion shall cease to defile
        The sacred recess
        Of the soul, we confess
    We are not always glad when we smile.
A SUMMER SUNRISE
AFTER LEE O. HARRIS
The master-hand whose pencils trace
    This wondrous landscape of the morn,
Is but the sun, whose glowing face
Reflects the rapture and the grace
    Of inspiration Heaven-born.
And yet with vision-dazzled eyes,
    I see the lotus-lands of old,
Where odorous breezes fall and rise,
And mountains, peering in the skies,
    Stand ankle-deep in lakes of gold.
And, spangled with the shine and shade,
    I see the rivers raveled out
In strands of silver, slowly fade
In threads of light along the glade
    Where truant roses hide and pout.
The tamarind on gleaming sands
    Droops drowsily beneath the heat;
And bowed as though aweary, stands
The stately palm, with lazy hands
    That fold their shadows round his feet.
And mistily, as through a veil,
    I catch the glances of a sea
Of sapphire, dimpled with a gale
Toward Colch's blowing, where the sail
    Of Jason's Argo beckons me.
And gazing on and farther yet,
    I see the isles enchanted, bright
With fretted spire and parapet,
And gilded mosque and minaret,
    That glitter in the crimson light.
But as I gaze, the city's walls
    Are keenly smitten with a gleam
Of pallid splendor, that appalls
The fancy as the ruin falls
    In ashen embers of a dream.
Yet over all the waking earth
    The tears of night are brushed away,
And eyes are lit with love and mirth,
And benisons of richest worth
    Go up to bless the new-born day.
DAS KRIST KINDEL
I had fed the fire and stirred it, till the sparkles in delight
Snapped their saucy little fingers at the chill December night;
And in dressing-gown and slippers, I had tilted back "my
The old split-bottomed rocker--and was musing all alone.
I could hear the hungry Winter prowling round the outer door,
And the tread of muffled footsteps on the white piazza floor;
But the sounds came to me only as the murmur of a stream
That mingled with the current of a lazy-flowing dream.
Like a fragrant incense rising, curled the smoke of my cigar,
With the lamplight gleaming through it like a mist-enfolded
And as I gazed, the vapor like a curtain rolled away,
With a sound of bells that tinkled, and the clatter of a sleigh.
And in a vision, painted like a picture in the air,
I saw the elfish figure of a man with frosty hair--
A quaint old man that chuckled with a laugh as he appeared,
And with ruddy cheeks like embers in the ashes of his beard.
He poised himself grotesquely, in an attitude of mirth,
On a damask-covered hassock that was sitting on the hearth;
And at a magic signal of his stubby little thumb,
I saw the fireplace changing to a bright proscenium.
And looking there, I marveled as I saw a mimic stage
Alive with little actors of a very tender age;
And some so very tiny that they tottered as they walked,
And lisped and purled and gurgled like the brooklets, when they
And their faces were like lilies, and their eyes like purest dew,
And their tresses like the shadows that the shine is woven
And they each had little burdens, and a little tale to tell
Of fairy lore, and giants, and delights delectable.
And they mixed and intermingled, weaving melody with joy,
Till the magic circle clustered round a blooming baby-boy;
And they threw aside their treasures in an ecstacy of glee,
And bent, with dazzled faces and with parted lips, to see.
'Twas a wondrous little fellow, with a dainty double-chin,
And chubby cheeks, and dimples for the smiles to blossom in;
And he looked as ripe and rosy, on his bed of straw and reeds,
As a mellow little pippin that had tumbled in the weeds.
And I saw the happy mother, and a group surrounding her
That knelt with costly presents of frankincense and myrrh;
And I thrilled with awe and wonder, as a murmur on the air
Came drifting o'er the hearing in a melody of prayer:--
'By the splendor in the heavens, and the hush upon the sea,
And the majesty of silence reigning over Galilee,--
We feel Thy kingly presence, and we humbly bow the knee
And lift our hearts and voices in gratefulness to Thee.
Thy messenger has spoken, and our doubts have fled and gone
As the dark and spectral shadows of the night before the dawn;
And, in the kindly shelter of the light around us drawn,
We would nestle down forever in the breast we lean upon.
You have given us a shepherd--You have given us a guide,
And the light of Heaven grew dimmer when You sent him from Your
But he comes to lead Thy children where the gates will open wide
To welcome his returning when his works are glorified.
By the splendor in the heavens, and the hush upon the sea,
And the majesty of silence reigning over Galilee,--
We feel Thy kingly presence, and we humbly bow the knee
And lift our hearts and voices in gratefulness to Thee.'
Then the vision, slowly failing, with the words of the refrain,
Fell swooning in the moonlight through the frosty window-pane;
And I heard the clock proclaiming, like an eager sentinel
Who brings the world good tidings,--"It is Christmas--all is
AN OLD YEAR'S ADDRESS
"I have twankled the strings of the twinkering rain;
    I have burnished the meteor's mail;
        I have bridled the wind
        When he whinnied and whined
    With a bunch of stars tied to his tail;
But my sky-rocket hopes, hanging over the past,
Must fuzzle and fazzle and fizzle at last!"
I had waded far out in a drizzling dream,
    And my fancies had spattered my eyes
        With a vision of dread,
        With a number ten head,
    And a form of diminutive size--
That wavered and wagged in a singular way
As he wound himself up and proceeded to say,--
"I have trimmed all my corns with the blade of the moon;
    I have picked every tooth with a star:
        And I thrill to recall
        That I went through it all
    Like a tune through a tickled guitar.
I have ripped up the rainbow and raveled the ends
When the sun and myself were particular friends."
And pausing again, and producing a sponge
    And wiping the tears from his eyes,
        He sank in a chair
        With a technical air
    That he struggled in vain to disguise,--
For a sigh that he breathed, as I over him leant,
Was haunted and hot with a peppermint scent.
"Alas!" he continued in quavering tones
    As a pang rippled over his face,
        "The life was too fast
        For the pleasure to last
    In my very unfortunate case;
And I'm going"--he said as he turned to adjust
A fuse in his bosom,--"I'm going to--BUST!"
I shrieked and awoke with the sullen che-boom
    Of a five-pounder filling my ears;
        And a roseate bloom
        Of a light in the room
    I saw through the mist of my tears,--
But my guest of the night never saw the display,
He had fuzzled and fazzled and fizzled away!
A NEW YEAR'S PLAINT
In words like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
    Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
    But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.
                        --TENNYSON.
The bells that lift their yawning throats
    And lolling tongues with wrangling cries
Flung up in harsh, discordant notes,
    As though in anger, at the skies,--
Are filled with echoings replete,
    With purest tinkles of delight--
So I would have a something sweet
    Ring in the song I sing to-night.
As when a blotch of ugly guise
    On some poor artist's naked floor
Becomes a picture in his eyes,
    And he forgets that he is poor,--
So I look out upon the night,
    That ushers in the dawning year,
And in a vacant blur of light
    I see these fantasies appear.
I see a home whose windows gleam
    Like facets of a mighty gem
That some poor king's distorted dream
    Has fastened in his diadem.
And I behold a throng that reels
    In revelry of dance and mirth,
With hearts of love beneath their heels,
    And in their bosoms hearts of earth.
O Luxury, as false and grand
    As in the mystic tales of old,
When genii answered man's command,
    And built of nothing halls of gold!
O Banquet, bright with pallid jets,
    And tropic blooms, and vases caught
In palms of naked statuettes,
    Ye can not color as ye ought!
For, crouching in the storm without,
    I see the figure of a child,
In little ragged roundabout,
    Who stares with eyes that never smiled--
And he, in fancy can but taste
    The dainties of the kingly fare,
And pick the crumbs that go to waste
    Where none have learned to kneel in prayer.
Go, Pride, and throw your goblet down--
    The "merry greeting" best appears
On loving lips that never drown
    Its worth but in the wine of tears;
Go, close your coffers like your hearts,
    And shut your hearts against the poor,
Go, strut through all your pretty parts
    But take the "Welcome" from your door.
LUTHER BENSON
AFTER READING HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
POOR victim of that vulture curse
That hovers o'er the universe,
With ready talons quick to strike
In every human heart alike,
And cruel beak to stab and tear
In virtue's vitals everywhere,--
You need no sympathy of mine
To aid you, for a strength divine
Encircles you, and lifts you clear
Above this earthly atmosphere.
And yet I can but call you poor,
As, looking through the open door
Of your sad life, I only see
A broad landscape of misery,
And catch through mists of pitying tears
The ruins of your younger years,
I see a father's shielding arm
Thrown round you in a wild alarm--
Struck down, and powerless to free
Or aid you in your agony.
I see a happy home grow dark
And desolate--the latest spark
Of hope is passing in eclipse--
The prayer upon a mother's lips
Has fallen with her latest breath
In ashes on the lips of death--
I see a penitent who reels,
And writhes, and clasps his hands, and kneels,
And moans for mercy for the sake
Of that fond heart he dared to break.
And lo! as when in Galilee
A voice above the troubled sea
Commanded "Peace; be still!" the flood
That rolled in tempest-waves of blood
Within you, fell in calm so sweet
It ripples round the Saviour's feet;
And all your noble nature thrilled
With brightest hope and faith, and filled
Your thirsty soul with joy and peace
And praise to Him who gave release.
Because her eyes were far too deep
And holy for a laugh to leap
Across the brink where sorrow tried
To drown within the amber tide;
Because the looks, whose ripples kissed
The trembling lids through tender mist,
Were dazzled with a radiant gleam--
Because of this I called her "Dream."
Because the roses growing wild
About her features when she smiled
Were ever dewed with tears that fell
With tenderness ineffable;
Because her lips might spill a kiss
That, dripping in a world like this,
Would tincture death's myrrh-bitter stream
To sweetness--so I called her "Dream."
Because I could not understand
The magic touches of a hand
That seemed, beneath her strange control,
To smooth the plumage of the soul
And calm it, till, with folded wings,
It half forgot its flutterings,
And, nestled in her palm, did seem
To trill a song that called her "Dream."
Because I saw her, in a sleep
As dark and desolate and deep
And fleeting as the taunting night
That flings a vision of delight
To some lorn martyr as he lies
In slumber ere the day he dies--
Because she vanished like a gleam
Of glory, do I call her "Dream."
WHEN EVENING SHADOWS FALL
When evening shadows fall,
    She hangs her cares away
Like empty garments on the wall
    That hides her from the day;
And while old memories throng,
    And vanished voices call,
She lifts her grateful heart in song
    When evening shadows fall.
Her weary hands forget
    The burdens of the day.
The weight of sorrow and regret
    In music rolls away;
And from the day's dull tomb,
    That holds her in its thrall,
Her soul springs up in lily bloom
    When evening shadows fall.
O weary heart and hand,
    Go bravely to the strife--
No victory is half so grand
    As that which conquers life!
One day shall yet be thine--
    The day that waits for all
Whose prayerful eyes are things divine
    When evening shadows fall.
Her hair was, oh, so dense a blur
Of darkness, midnight envied her;
And stars grew dimmer in the skies
To see the glory of her eyes;
And all the summer rain of light
That showered from the moon at night
Fell o'er her features as the gloom
Of twilight o'er a lily-bloom.
The crimson fruitage of her lips
Was ripe and lush with sweeter wine
Than burgundy or muscadine
Or vintage that the burgher sips
In some old garden on the Rhine:
And I to taste of it could well
Believe my heart a crucible
Of molten love--and I could feel
The drunken soul within me reel
And rock and stagger till it fell.
And do you wonder that I bowed
Before her splendor as a cloud
Of storm the golden-sandaled sun
Had set his conquering foot upon?
And did she will it, I could lie
In writhing rapture down and die
A death so full of precious pain
I'd waken up to die again.
A fantasy that came to me
    As wild and wantonly designed
As ever any dream might be
    Unraveled from a madman's mind,--
A tangle-work of tissue, wrought
    By cunning of the spider-brain,
    And woven, in an hour of pain,
To trap the giddy flies of thought.
I stood beneath a summer moon
    All swollen to uncanny girth,
And hanging, like the sun at noon,
    Above the center of the earth;
    But with a sad and sallow light,
    As it had sickened of the night
And fallen in a pallid swoon.
Around me I could hear the rush
    Of sullen winds, and feel the whir
Of unseen wings apast me brush
    Like phantoms round a sepulcher;
And, like a carpeting of plush,0
    A lawn unrolled beneath my feet,
    Bespangled o'er with flowers as sweet
    To look upon as those that nod
    Within the garden-fields of God,
    But odorless as those that blow
    In ashes in the shades below.
And on my hearing fell a storm
    Of gusty music, sadder yet
    Than every whimper of regret
That sobbing utterance could form,
    And patched with scraps of sound that seemed
    Torn out of tunes that demons dreamed,
    And pitched to such a piercing key,
    It stabbed the ear with agony;
    And when at last it lulled and died,
    I stood aghast and terrified.
I shuddered and I shut my eyes,
    And still could see, and feel aware
    Some mystic presence waited there;
And staring, with a dazed surprise,
    I saw a creature so divine
    That never subtle thought of mine
    May reproduce to inner sight
    So fair a vision of delight.
A syllable of dew that drips
From out a lily's laughing lips
Could not be sweeter than the word
I listened to, yet never heard.--
For, oh, the woman hiding there
Within the shadows of her hair,
Spake to me in an undertone
So delicate, my soul alone
But understood it as a moan
Of some weak melody of wind
A heavenward breeze had left behind.
A tracery of trees, grotesque
    Against the sky, behind her seen,
Like shapeless shapes of arabesque
    Wrought in an Oriental screen;
And tall, austere and statuesque
    She loomed before it--e'en as though
    The spirit-hand of Angelo
    Had chiseled her to life complete,
    With chips of moonshine round her feet.
And I grew jealous of the dusk,
    To see it softly touch her face,
    As lover-like, with fond embrace,
It folded round her like a husk:
But when the glitter of her hand,
    Like wasted glory, beckoned me,
    My eyes grew blurred and dull and dim--
    My vision failed--I could not see--
I could not stir--I could but stand,
    Till, quivering in every limb,
    I flung me prone, as though to swim
    The tide of grass whose waves of green
    Went rolling ocean-wide between
    My helpless shipwrecked heart and her
    Who claimed me for a worshiper.
And writhing thus in my despair,
    I heard a weird, unearthly sound,
    That seemed to lift me from the ground
And hold me floating in the air.
I looked, and lo!  I saw her bow
    Above a harp within her hands;
A crown of blossoms bound her brow,
    And on her harp were twisted strands
Of silken starlight, rippling o'er
With music never heard before
By mortal ears; and, at the strain,
I felt my Spirit snap its chain
And break away,--and I could see
It as it turned and fled from me
To greet its mistress, where she smiled
To see the phantom dancing wild
And wizard-like before the spell
Her mystic fingers knew so well.
I dreamed I was a spider;
A big, fat, hungry spider;
A lusty, rusty spider
    With a dozen palsied limbs;
With a dozen limbs that dangled
Where three wretched flies were tangled
And their buzzing wings were strangled
    In the middle of their hymns.
And I mocked them like a demon--
A demoniacal demon
Who delights to be a demon
    For the sake of sin alone;
And with fondly false embraces
Did I weave my mystic laces
Round their horror-stricken faces
    Till I muffled every groan.
And I smiled to see them weeping,
For to see an insect weeping,
Sadly, sorrowfully weeping,
    Fattens every spider's mirth;
And to note a fly's heart quaking,
And with anguish ever aching
Till you see it slowly breaking
    Is the sweetest thing on earth.
I experienced a pleasure,
Such a highly-flavored pleasure,
Such intoxicating pleasure,
    That I drank of it like wine;
And my mortal soul engages
That no spider on the pages
Of the history of ages
    Felt a rapture more divine.
I careened around and capered--
Madly, mystically capered--
For three days and nights I capered
    Round my web in wild delight;
Till with fierce ambition burning,
And an inward thirst and yearning
I hastened my returning
    With a fiendish appetite.
And I found my victims dying,
"Ha!" they whispered, "we are dying!"
Faintly whispered, "we are dying,
    And our earthly course is run."
And the scene was so impressing
That I breathed a special blessing,
As I killed them with caressing
    And devoured them one by one.
DREAMER, SAY
Dreamer, say, will you dream for me
    A wild sweet dream of a foreign land,
Whose border sips of a foaming sea
    With lips of coral and silver sand;
Where warm winds loll on the shady deeps,
    Or lave themselves in the tearful mist
The great wild wave of the breaker weeps
    O'er crags of opal and amethyst?
Dreamer, say, will you dream a dream
    Of tropic shades in the lands of shine,
Where the lily leans o'er an amber stream
    That flows like a rill of wasted wine,--
Where the palm-trees, lifting their shields of green,
    Parry the shafts of the Indian sun
Whose splintering vengeance falls between
    The reeds below where the waters run?
Dreamer, say, will you dream of love
    That lives in a land of sweet perfume,
Where the stars drip down from the skies above
    In molten spatters of bud and bloom?
Where never the weary eyes are wet,
    And never a sob in the balmy air,
And only the laugh of the paroquet
    Breaks the sleep of the silence there?
The harp has fallen from the master's hand;
Mute is the music, voiceless are the strings,
    Save such faint discord as the wild wind flings
In sad aeolian murmurs through the land.
The tide of melody, whose billows grand
    Flowed o'er the world in clearest utterings,
    Now, in receding current, sobs and sings
That song we never wholly understand.
* * O, eyes where glorious prophecies belong,
    And gracious reverence to humbly bow,
And kingly spirit, proud, and pure, and strong;
    O, pallid minstrel with the laureled brow,
And lips so long attuned to sacred song,
    How sweet must be the Heavenly anthem now!
Heigh-ho!  Babyhood!  Tell me where you linger!
    Let's toddle home again, for we have gone astray;
Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the finger
    Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away!
Turn back the leaves of life.--Don't read the story.--
    Let's find the pictures, and fancy all the rest;
We can fill the written pages with a brighter glory
    Than old Time, the story-teller, at his very best.
Turn to the brook where the honeysuckle tipping
    O'er its vase of perfume spills it on the breeze,
And the bee and humming-bird in ecstacy are sipping
    From the fairy flagons of the blooming locust-trees.
Turn to the lane where we used to "teeter-totter,"
    Printing little foot-palms in the mellow mold--
Laughing at the lazy cattle wading in the water
    Where the ripples dimple round the buttercups of gold;
Where the dusky turtle lies basking on the gravel
    Of the sunny sand-bar in the middle tide,
And the ghostly dragon-fly pauses in his travel
    To rest like a blossom where the water-lily died.
Heigh-ho!  Babyhood!  Tell me where you linger!
    Let's toddle home again, for we have gone astray;
Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the finger
    Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away!
NEW CASTLE, JULY 4, 1878 
For a hundred years the pulse of time
    Has throbbed for Liberty;
For a hundred years the grand old clime
    Columbia has been free;
        For a hundred years our country's love,
        The Stars and Stripes, has waved above.
Away far out on the gulf of years--
    Misty and faint and white
Through the fogs of wrong--a sail appears,
    And the Mayflower heaves in sight,
        And drifts again, with its little flock
        Of a hundred souls, on Plymouth Rock.
Do you see them there--as long, long since--
    Through the lens of History;
Do you see them there as their chieftain prints
    In the snow his bended knee,
        And lifts his voice through the wintry blast
        In thanks for a peaceful home at last?
Though the skies are dark and the coast is bleak,
    And the storm is wild and fierce,
Its frozen flake on the upturned cheek
    Of the Pilgrim melts in tears,
        And the dawn that springs from the darkness there
        Is the morning light of an answered prayer.
The morning light of the day of Peace
    That gladdens the aching eyes,
And gives to the soul that sweet release
    That the present verifies,--
        Nor a snow so deep, nor a wind so chill
        To quench the flame of a freeman's will!
Days of toil when the bleeding hand
    Of the pioneer grew numb,
When the untilled tracts of the barren land
    Where the weary ones had come
        Could offer nought from a fruitful soil
        To stay the strength of the stranger's toil.
Days of pain, when the heart beat low,
    And the empty hours went by
Pitiless, with the wail of woe
    And the moan of Hunger's cry--
        When the trembling hands upraised in prayer
        Had only the strength to hold them there.
Days when the voice of hope had fled--
    Days when the eyes grown weak
Were folded to, and the tears they shed
    Were frost on a frozen cheek--
        When the storm bent down from the skies and gave
        A shroud of snow for the Pilgrim's grave.
Days at last when the smiling sun
    Glanced down from a summer sky,
And a music rang where the rivers run,
    And the waves went laughing by;
        And the rose peeped over the mossy bank
        While the wild deer stood in the stream and drank.
And the birds sang out so loud and good,
    In a symphony so clear
And pure and sweet that the woodman stood
    With his ax upraised to hear,
        And to shape the words of the tongue unknown
        Into a language all his own--
'Sing! every bird, to-day!
    Sing for the sky so clear,
    And the gracious breath of the atmosphere
Shall waft our cares away.
Sing! sing! for the sunshine free;
Sing through the land from sea to sea;
Lift each voice in the highest key
        And sing for Liberty!'
'Sing for the arms that fling
    Their fetters in the dust
    And lift their hands in higher trust
Unto the one Great King;
Sing for the patriot heart and hand;
Sing for the country they have planned;
Sing that the world may understand
        This is Freedom's land!'
'Sing in the tones of prayer,
    Sing till the soaring soul
    Shall float above the world's control
In freedom everywhere!
Sing for the good that is to be,
Sing for the eyes that are to see
The land where man at last is free,
        O sing for liberty!'
A holy quiet reigned, save where the hand
Of labor sent a murmur through the land,
And happy voices in a harmony
Taught every lisping breeze a melody.
A nest of cabins, where the smoke upcurled
A breathing incense to the other world.
A land of languor from the sun of noon,
That fainted slowly to the pallid moon,
Till stars, thick-scattered in the garden-land
Of Heaven by the great Jehovah's hand,
Had blossomed into light to look upon
The dusky warrior with his arrow drawn,
As skulking from the covert of the night
With serpent cunning and a fiend's delight,
With murderous spirit, and a yell of hate
The voice of Hell might tremble to translate:
When the fond mother's tender lullaby
Went quavering in shrieks all suddenly,
And baby-lips were dabbled with the stain
Of crimson at the bosom of the slain,
And peaceful homes and fortunes ruined--lost
In smoldering embers of the holocaust.
Yet on and on, through years of gloom and strife,
Our country struggled into stronger life;
Till colonies, like footprints in the sand,
Marked Freedom's pathway winding through the land--
And not the footprints to be swept away
Before the storm we hatched in Boston Bay,--
But footprints where the path of war begun
That led to Bunker Hill and Lexington,--
For he who "dared to lead where others dared
To follow" found the promise there declared
Of Liberty, in blood of Freedom's host
Baptized to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
Oh, there were times when every patriot breast
Was riotous with sentiments expressed
In tones that swelled in volume till the sound
Of lusty war itself was well-nigh drowned.
Oh, those were times when happy eyes with tears
Brimmed o'er as all the misty doubts and fears
Were washed away, and Hope with gracious mien,
Reigned from her throne again a sovereign queen.
Until at last, upon a day like this
When flowers were blushing at the summer's kiss,
And when the sky was cloudless as the face
Of some sweet infant in its angel grace,--
There came a sound of music, thrown afloat
Upon the balmy air--a clanging note
Reiterated from the brazen throat
Of Independence Bell:  A sound so sweet,
The clamoring throngs of people in the streets
Were stilled as at the solemn voice of prayer,
And heads were bowed, and lips were moving there
That made no sound--until the spell had passed,
And then, as when all sudden comes the blast
Of some tornado, came the cheer on cheer
Of every eager voice, while far and near
The echoing bells upon the atmosphere
Set glorious rumors floating, till the ear
Of every listening patriot tingled clear,
And thrilled with joy and jubilee to hear.
'Stir all your echoes up,
    O Independence Bell,
And pour from your inverted cup
    The song we love so well.
'Lift high your happy voice,
    And swing your iron tongue
Till syllables of praise rejoice
    That never yet were sung.
'Ring in the gleaming dawn
    Of Freedom--Toll the knell
Of Tyranny, and then ring on,
    O Independence Bell.--
'Ring on, and drown the moan,
    Above the patriot slain,
Till sorrow's voice shall catch the tone
    And join the glad refrain.
'Ring out the wounds of wrong
    And rankle in the breast;
Your music like a slumber-song
    Will lull revenge to rest.
'Ring out from Occident
    To Orient, and peal
From continent to continent
    The mighty joy you feel.
'Ring! Independence Bell!
    Ring on till worlds to be
Shall listen to the tale you tell
    Of love and Liberty!'
O Liberty--the dearest word
A bleeding country ever heard,--
We lay our hopes upon thy shrine
And offer up our lives for thine.
You gave us many happy years
Of peace and plenty ere the tears
A mourning country wept were dried
Above the graves of those who died
Upon thy threshold.  And again
When newer wars were bred, and men
Went marching in the cannon's breath
And died for thee and loved the death,
While, high above them, gleaming bright,
The dear old flag remained in sight,
And lighted up their dying eyes
With smiles that brightened paradise.
O Liberty, it is thy power
To gladden us in every hour
Of gloom, and lead us by thy hand
As little children through a land
Of bud and blossom; while the days
Are filled with sunshine, and thy praise
Is warbled in the roundelays
Of joyous birds, and in the song
Of waters, murmuring along
The paths of peace, whose flowery fringe
Has roses finding deeper tinge
Of crimson, looking on themselves
Reflected--leaning from the shelves
Of cliff and crag and mossy mound
Of emerald splendor shadow-drowned.--
We hail thy presence, as you come
With bugle blast and rolling drum,
And booming guns and shouts of glee
Commingled in a symphony
That thrills the worlds that throng to see
The glory of thy pageantry.
0And with thy praise, we breathe a prayer
That God who leaves you in our care
May favor us from this day on
With thy dear presence--till the dawn
Of Heaven, breaking on thy face,
Lights up thy first abiding place.
TOM VAN ARDEN
Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
    Our warm fellowship is one
Far too old to comprehend
    Where its bond was first begun:
        Mirage-like before my gaze
        Gleams a land of other days,
        Where two truant boys, astray,
        Dream their lazy lives away.
There's a vision, in the guise
    Of Midsummer, where the Past
Like a weary beggar lies
    In the shadow Time has cast;
        And as blends the bloom of trees
        With the drowsy hum of bees,
        Fragrant thoughts and murmurs blend,
        Tom Van Arden, my old friend.
Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
    All the pleasures we have known
Thrill me now as I extend
    This old hand and grasp your own--
        Feeling, in the rude caress,
        All affection's tenderness;
        Feeling, though the touch be rough,
        Our old souls are soft enough.
So we'll make a mellow hour:
    Fill your pipe, and taste the wine--
Warp your face, if it be sour,
    I can spare a smile from mine;
        If it sharpen up your wit,
        Let me feel the edge of it--
        I have eager ears to lend,
        Tom Van Arden, my old friend.
Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
    Are we "lucky dogs," indeed?
Are we all that we pretend
    In the jolly life we lead?--
        Bachelors, we must confess,
        Boast of "single blessedness"
        To the world, but not alone--
        Man's best sorrow is his own!
And the saddest truth is this,--
    Life to us has never proved
What we tasted in the kiss
    Of the women we have loved:
        Vainly we congratulate
        Our escape from such a fate
            As their lying lips could send,
        Tom Van Arden, my old friend!
Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
    Hearts, like fruit upon the stem,
Ripen sweetest, I contend,
    As the frost falls over them:
        Your regard for me to-day
        Makes November taste of May,
        And through every vein of rhyme
        Pours the blood of summer-time.
When our souls are cramped with youth
    Happiness seems far away
In the future, while, in truth,
    We look back on it to-day
        Through our tears, nor dare to boast,--
        "Better to have loved and lost!"
        Broken hearts are hard to mend,
        Tom Van Arden, my old friend.
Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
    I grow prosy, and you tire;
Fill the glasses while I bend
    To prod up the failing fire. . . .
        You are restless:--I presume
        There's a dampness in the room.--
        Much of warmth our nature begs,
        With rheumatics in our legs! . . .
Humph! the legs we used to fling
    Limber-jointed in the dance,
When we heard the fiddle ring
    Up the curtain of Romance,
        And in crowded public halls
        Played with hearts like jugglers' balls.--
        FEATS OF MOUNTEBANKS, DEPEND!--
        Tom Van Arden, my old friend.
Tom Van Arden, my old friend,
    Pardon, then, this theme of mine:
While the firelight leaps to lend
    Higher color to the wine,--
        I propose a health to those
        Who have HOMES, and home's repose,
        Wife- and child-love without end!
        . . . Tom Van Arden, my old friend.
This Etext was prepared for Project Gutenberg by Greg Berckes
I      THE LURE OF THE CIRCUS
II     PHIL HEARS HIS DISMISSAL
III    MAKING HIS START IN THE WORLD
IV     THE CIRCUS COMES TO TOWN
V      WHEN THE BANDS PLAYED
VI     PROVING HIS METTLE
VII    MAKING FRIENDS WITH THE ELEPHANTS
VIII   IN THE SAWDUST ARENA
IX     GETTING HIS FIRST CALL
X      PHIL GETS A SURPRISE
XI     THE FIRST NIGHT WITH THE SHOW
XII    A THRILLING RESCUE
XIII   THE DAWNING OF A NEW DAY
XIV    AN UNEXPECTED HIT
XV     A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE
XVI    HIS FIRST SETBACK
XVII   LEFT BEHIND
XVIII  A STARTLING DISCOVERY
XIX    TEDDY DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
XX     THE RETURN TO THE SAWDUST LIFE
XXI    AN ELEPHANT IN JAIL
XXII   EMPEROR ANSWERS THE SIGNAL
XXIII  THE MYSTERY SOLVED
XXIV   CONCLUSION
The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings
THE LURE OF THE CIRCUS
"I say, Phil, I can do that."
"Do what, Teddy?"
"A cartwheel in the air like that fellow is doing in the picture
on the billboard there."
"Oh, pshaw!  You only think you can.  Besides, that's not a
cartwheel; that's a double somersault.  It's a real stunt, let me
tell you.  Why, I can do a cartwheel myself.  But up in the air
like that--well, I don't know.  I guess not.  I'd be willing to
try it, though, if I had something below to catch me," added the
lad, critically surveying the figures on the poster before them.
"How'd you like to be a circus man, Phil?"
Phil's dark eyes glowed with a new light, his slender figure
straightening until the lad appeared fully half a head taller.
"More than anything else in the world," he breathed.  "Would
"Going to be," nodded Teddy decisively, as if the matter were
already settled.
"Oh, you are, eh?"
"I don't know.  Someday--someday when I get old enough, maybe."
Phil Forrest surveyed his companion with a half critical smile on
"What are you going to do--be a trapeze performer or what?"
"Well," reflected the lad wisely, "maybe I shall be an 'Or What.'
I'm not sure.  Sometimes I think I should like to be the fellow
who cracks the whip with the long lash and makes the clowns hop
around on one foot--"
"You mean the ringmaster?"
"I guess that's the fellow.  He makes 'em all get around lively.
Then, sometimes, I think I would rather be a clown.  I can skin a
cat on the flying rings to beat the band, now.  What would you
rather be, Phil?"
"Me?  Oh, something up in the air--high up near the peak of the
tent--something thrilling that would make the people sit up on
the board seats and gasp, when, all dressed in pink and spangles,
I'd go flying through the air--"
"Just like a bird?" questioned Teddy, with a rising inflection in
"Yes.  That's what I'd like most to do, Teddy," concluded the
lad, his face flushed with the thought of the triumphs that might
Teddy Tucker uttered a soft, long-drawn whistle.
"My, you've got it bad, haven't you?  Never thought you were that
set on the circus.  Wouldn't it be fine, now, if we both could
get with a show?"
"Great!" agreed Phil, with an emphatic nod.  "Sometimes I think
my uncle would be glad to have me go away--that he wouldn't care
whether I joined a circus, or what became of me."
"Ain't had much fun since your ma died, have you, Phil?"
questioned Teddy sympathetically.
"Not much," answered the lad, a thin, gray mist clouding his
eyes. "No, not much.  But, then, I'm not complaining."
"Your uncle's a mean old--"
"There, there, Teddy, please don't say it.  He may be all you
think he is, but for all the mean things he's said and done to
me, I've never given him an impudent word, Teddy.  Can you guess
"Cause he's your uncle, maybe," grumbled Teddy.
"No, 'cause he's my mother's brother--that's why."
"I don't know.  Maybe I'd feel that way if I'd had a mother."
"But you did."
"Nobody ever introduced us, if I did.  Guess she didn't know me.
But if your uncle was my uncle do you know what I'd do with him,
Phil Forrest?"
"Don't let's talk about him.  Let's talk about the circus. It's
more fun," interrupted Phil, turning to the billboard again and
gazing at it with great interest.
They were standing before the glowing posters of the Great
Sparling Combined Shows, that was to visit Edmeston on the
following Thursday.
Phillip Forrest and Teddy Tucker were fast friends, though they
were as different in appearance and temperament as two boys well
could be.  Phil was just past sixteen, while Teddy was a little
less than a year younger.  Phil's figure was slight and graceful,
while that of his companion was short and chubby.
Both lads were orphans.  Phil's parents had been dead for
something more than five years.  Since their death he had been
living with a penurious old uncle who led a hermit-like existence
in a shack on the outskirts of Edmeston.
But the lad could remember when it had been otherwise--when he
had lived in his own home, surrounded by luxury and refinement,
until evil days came upon them without warning.  His father's
property had been swept away, almost in a night.  A year later
both of his parents had died, leaving him to face the world
The boy's uncle had taken him in begrudgingly, and Phil's life
from that moment on had been one of self-denial and hard work.
Yet he was thankful for one thing--thankful that his miserly old
uncle had permitted him to continue at school.
Standing high in his class meant something in Phil's case, for
the boy was obliged to work at whatever he could find to do after
school hours, his uncle compelling him to contribute something to
the household expenses every week.  His duties done, Phil was
obliged to study far into the night, under the flickering light
of a tallow candle, because oil cost too much.  Sometimes his
candle burned far past the midnight hour, while he applied
himself to his books that he might be prepared for the next day's
Hard lines for a boy?
Yes.  But Phil Forrest was not the lad to complain.  He went
about his studies the same as he approached any other task that
was set for him to do--went about it with a grim, silent
determination to conquer it.  And he always did.
As for Teddy--christened Theodore, but so long ago that he had
forgotten that that was his name--he studied, not because he
possessed a burning desire for knowledge, but as a matter of
course, and much in the same spirit he did the chores for the
people with whom he lived.
Teddy was quite young when his parents died leaving him without a
relative in the world.  A poor, but kind-hearted family in
Edmeston had taken the lad in rather than see him become a public
charge. With them he had lived and been cared for ever since.  Of
late years, however, he had been able to do considerable toward
lightening the burden for them by the money he managed to earn
here and there.
The two boys were on their way home from school.  There remained
but one more day before the close of the term, which was a matter
of sincere regret to Phil and of keen satisfaction to his
companion. Just now both were too full of the subject of the
coming show to think of much else.
"Going to the show, Phil?"
"I am afraid not."
"I haven't any money; that's the principal reason," smiled the
boy.  "Are you?"
"Sure.  Don't need any money to go to a circus."
"You don't?"
"How do you manage it?"
"Crawl in under the tent when the man ain't looking," answered
Teddy promptly.
"I wouldn't want to do that," decided the older lad, with a shake
of the head.  "It wouldn't be quite honest.  Do you think so?"
Teddy Tucker shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
"Never thought about it.  Don't let myself think about it. Isn't
safe, for I might not go to the show if I did.  What's your other
"For not going to the circus?"
"Well, I don't think Uncle would let me; that's a fact."
"Says circuses and all that sort of thing are evil influences."
"Oh, pshaw!  Wish he was my uncle," decided Teddy belligerently.
"How long are you going to stand for being mauled around like a
little yellow dog?"
"I'll stand most anything for the sake of getting an education.
When I get that then I'm going to strike out for myself, and do
something in the world.  You'll hear from me yet, Teddy Tucker,
and maybe I'll hear from you, too."
"See me, you mean--see me doing stunts on a high something-or-
other in a circus.  Watch me turn a somersault."
The lad stood poised on the edge of the ditch, on the other side
of which the billboard stood.  This gave him the advantage of an
elevated position from which to attempt his feat.
"Look out that you don't break your neck," warned Phil.  "I'd try
it on a haymow, or something like that, first."
"Don't you worry about me.  See how easy that fellow in the
picture is doing it.  Here goes!"
Teddy launched himself into the air, with a very good imitation
of a diver making a plunge into the water, hands stretched out
before him, legs straight behind him.
He was headed straight for the ditch.
"Turn, Teddy!  Turn!  You'll strike on your head."
Teddy was as powerless to turn as if he had been paralyzed from
head to foot.  Down he went, straight as an arrow.  There
followed a splash as his head struck the water of the ditch, the
lad's feet beating a tattoo in the air while his head was stuck
fast in the mud at the bottom of the ditch.
"He'll drown," gasped Phil, springing down into the little
stream, regardless of the damage liable to be done to his own
Throwing both arms about the body of his companion he gave a
mighty tug.  Teddy stuck obstinately, and Phil was obliged to
take a fresh hold before he succeeded in hauling the lad from his
perilous position.  Teddy was gasping for breath.  His face,
plastered with mud, was unrecognizable, while his clothes were
covered from head to foot.
Phil dumped him on the grass beneath the circus billboard and
began wiping the mud from his companion's face, while Teddy
quickly sat up, blinking the mud out of his eyes and grumbling
unintelligibly.
"You're a fine circus performer, you are," laughed Phil.
"Suppose you had been performing on a flying trapeze in a circus,
what do you suppose would have happened to you?"
"I'd have had a net under me then, and I wouldn't have fallen in
the ditch," grunted Teddy sullenly.
"What do you suppose the folks will say when you go home in that
"Don't care what they say.  Fellow has got to learn sometime, and
if I don't have any worse thing happen to me than falling in a
ditch I ought to be pretty well satisfied.  Guess I'll go back
now.  Come on, go 'long with me."
Phil turned and strode along by the side of his companion until
they reached the house where Teddy lived.
"Come on in."
"I'm sorry, Teddy, but I can't.  My uncle will be expecting me,
and he won't like it if I am late."
"All right; see you tomorrow if you don't come out again tonight.
We'll try some more stunts then."
"I wouldn't till after the circus, were I in your place," laughed
"Cause, if you break your neck, you won't be able to go to the
"Huh!" grunted Teddy, hastily turning his back on his companion
and starting for the house.
Phil took his way home silently and thoughtfully, carrying his
precious bundle of books under an arm, his active mind planning
as to how he might employ his time to the best advantage during
the summer vacation that was now so close at hand.
A rheumatic, bent figure was standing in front of the shack where
the lad lived, glaring up the street from beneath bushy eyebrows,
noting Phil Forrest's leisurely gait disapprovingly.
Phil saw him a moment later.
"I'm in for a scolding," he muttered.  "Wonder what it is all
about this time.  I don't seem able to do a thing to please Uncle
PHIL HEARS HIS DISMISSAL
"Where you been, young man?"  The question was a snarl rather
than a sentence.
"To school, Uncle, of course."
"School's been out more than an hour.  I say, where have you
"I stopped on the way for a few minutes."
"You did?" exploded Abner Adams.  "Where?"
"Teddy Tucker and I stopped to read a circus bill over there on
Clover Street.  We did not stop but a few minutes.  Was there any
harm in that?"
"Harm?  Circus bill--"
"And I want to go to the circus, too, Uncle, when it comes here.
You know?  I have not been to anything of that sort since mother
died--not once.  I'll work and earn the money.  I can go in the
evening after my work is finished.  Please let me go, Uncle."
For a full minute Abner Adams was too overcome with his emotions
to speak.  He hobbled about in a circle, smiting the ground with
his cane, alternately brandishing it threateningly in the air
over the head of the unflinching Phil.
"Circus!" he shouted.  "I might have known it!  I might have
known it!  You and that Tucker boy are two of a kind.  You'll
both come to some bad ending.  Only fools and questionable
characters go to such places--"
"My mother and father went, and they always took me," replied the
boy, drawing himself up with dignity.  "You certainly do not
include them in either of the two classes you have named?"
"So much the worse for them!  So much the worse for them.  They
were a pair of--"
"Uncle, Uncle!" warned Phil.  "Please don't say anything against
my parents.  I won't stand it.  Don't forget that my mother was
your own sister, too."
"I'm not likely to forget it, after she's bundled such a baggage
as you into my care.  You're turning out a worthless, good-for-
nothing loaf--"
"You haven't said whether or not I might go to the circus,
Uncle," reminded Phil.
"Circus?  No!  I'll have none of my money spent on any such
worthless--"
"But I didn't ask you to spend your money, even though you have
plenty of it.  I said I would earn the money--"
"You'll have a chance to earn it, and right quick at that. No,
you won't go to any circus so long as you're living under my
"Very well, Uncle, I shall do as you wish, of course," answered
Phil, hiding his disappointment as well as he could.  The lad
shifted his bundle of books to the other hand and started slowly
for the house.
Abner Adams hobbled about until he faced the lad again, an angry
gleam lighting up his squinting eyes.
"Come back here!"
Phil halted, turning.
"I said come back here."
The lad did so, his self-possession and quiet dignity never
deserting him for an instant.  This angered the crabbed old uncle
more than ever.
"When will you get through school?"
"Tomorrow, I believe."
"Huh!  Then, I suppose you intend to loaf for the rest of the
summer and live on my hard earned savings.  Is that it?"
"No, sir; I hadn't thought of doing anything of the sort. I
"What did you think?"
"I thought I would find something to do.  Of course, I do not
expect to be idle.  I shall work at something until school begins
again next fall, then, of course, I shall not be able to do so
"School!  You've had enough school!  In my days boys didn't spend
the best part of their lives in going to school.  They worked."
"Yes, sir; I am willing to work, too.  But, Uncle, I must have an
education.  I shall be able to earn so much more then, and, if
necessary, I shall be able to pay you for all you have spent on
me, which isn't much, you know."
"What, what?  You dare to be impudent to me?  You--"
"No, sir, I am not impudent.  I have never been that and I never
shall be; but you are accusing me wrongfully."
"Enough.  You have done with school--"
"You--you mean that I am not to go to school any more--that I
have got to go through life with the little I have learned?  Is
that what you mean, Uncle?" asked the boy, with a sinking heart.
"You heard me."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I am working and I shall be working," Phil replied.
"You're right you will, or you'll starve.  I have been thinking
this thing over a lot lately.  A boy never amounts to anything if
he's mollycoddled and allowed to spend his days depending on
someone else.  Throw him out and let him fight his own way.
That's what my father used to tell me, and that's what I'm going
to say to you."
"What do you mean, Uncle?"
"Mean?  Can't you understand the English language?  Have I got to
draw a picture to make you understand?  Get to work!"
"I am going to as soon as school is out."
"You'll do it now.  Get yourself out of my house, bag and
"Uncle, Uncle!" protested the lad in amazement.  "Would you turn
"Would I?  I have, only you are too stupid to know it.  You'll
thank me for it when you get old enough to have some sense."
Phil's heart sank within him, and it required all his
self-control to keep the bitter tears from his eyes.
"When do you wish me to go?" he asked without a quaver in his
"Very well, I'll go.  But what do you think my mother would say,
could she know this?"
"That will do, young man.  Do your chores, and then--"
"I am not working for you now, Uncle, you know, so I shall have
to refuse to do the chores.  There is fifty cents due me from Mr.
Churchill for fixing his chicken coop.  You may get that, I don't
Phil turned away once more, and with head erect entered the
house, going straight to his room, leaving Abner Adams fuming and
stamping about in the front yard.  The old man's rage knew no
bounds.  He was so beside himself with anger over the fancied
impudence of his nephew that, had the boy been present, he might
have so far forgotten himself as to have used his cane on Phil.
But Phil by this time had entered his own room, locking the door
behind him.  The lad threw his books down on the bed, dropped
into a chair and sat palefaced, tearless and silent.  Slowly his
eyes rose to the old-fashioned bureau, where his comb and brush
lay. The eyes halted when at length they rested on the picture of
The lad rose as if drawn by invisible hands, reached out and
clasped the photograph to him.  Then the pent-up tears welled up
in a flood.  With the picture pressed to his burning cheek Phil
Forrest threw himself on his bed and sobbed out his bitter grief.
He did not hear the thump of Abner Adams' cane on the bedroom
door, nor the angry demands that he open it.
"Mother, Mother!" breathed the unhappy boy, as his sobs gradually
merged into long-drawn, trembling sighs.
Perhaps his appeal was not unheard.  At least Phil Forrest sprang
from his bed, holding the picture away from him with both hands
and gazing into the eyes of his mother.
Slowly his shoulders drew back and his head came up, while an
expression of strong determination flashed into his own eyes.
"I'll do it--I'll be a man, Mother!" he exclaimed in a voice in
which there was not the slightest tremor now.  "I'll fight the
battle and I'll win."
Phil Forest had come to the parting of the ways, which he faced
with a courage unusual in one of his years.  There was little to
be done.  He packed his few belongings in a bag that had been his
mother's.  The lad possessed one suit besides the one he wore,
and this he stowed away as best he could, determining to press it
out when he had located himself.
Finally his task was finished.  He stood in the middle of the
floor glancing around the little room that had been his home for
so long.  But he felt no regrets.  He was only making sure that
he had not left anything behind.  Having satisfied himself on
this point, Phil gathered up his bundle of books, placed the
picture of his mother in his inside coat pocket, then threw open
The lad's uncle had stamped to the floor below, where he was
awaiting Phil's coming.
"Good-bye, Uncle," he said quietly, extending a hand.
"Let me see that bag," snapped the old man.
"The bag is mine--it belonged to my mother," explained the boy.
"Surely you don't object to my taking it with me?"
"You're welcome to it, and good riddance; but I'm going to find
out what's inside of it."
"You surely don't think I would take anything that doesn't belong
to me--you can't mean that?"
"Ain't saying what I mean.  Hand over that bag."
With burning cheeks, Phil did as he was bid, his unwavering eyes
fixed almost sternly on the wrathful face of Abner Adams.
"Huh!" growled the old man, tumbling the contents out on the
floor, shaking Phil's clothes to make sure that nothing was
concealed in them.
Apparently satisfied, the old man threw the bag on the floor with
an exclamation of disgust.  Phil once more gathered up his
belongings and stowed them away in the satchel.
"Turn out your pockets!"
"There is nothing in them, Uncle, save some trinkets of my own
and my mother's picture."
"Turn them out!" thundered the old man.
"Uncle, I have always obeyed you.  Obedience was one of the
things that my mother taught me, but I'm sure that were she here
she would tell me I was right in refusing to humiliate myself as
you would have me do.  There is nothing in my pockets that does
not belong to me.  I am not a thief."
"Then I'll turn them out myself!" snarled Abner Adams, starting
Phil stepped back a pace, satchel in hand.
"Uncle, I am a man now," said the boy, straightening to his full
height.  "Please don't force me to do something that I should be
sorry for all the rest of my life.  Will you shake hands with
"No!" thundered Abner Adams.  "Get out of my sight before I lay
the stick over your head!"
Phil stretched out an appealing hand, then hastily withdrew it.
"Good-bye, Uncle Abner," he breathed.
Without giving his uncle a chance to reply, the lad turned,
opened the door and ran down the steps.
MAKING HIS START IN THE WORLD
The sun was just setting as Phil Forrest strode out of the yard.
Once outside of the gate he paused, glancing irresolutely up and
down the street.  Which way to turn or where to go he did not
know. He had not thought before of what he should do.
Phil heard the clatter of Abner Adams' stick as the old man
thumped about in the kitchen.
Suddenly the door was jerked open with unusual violence.
"Begone!" bellowed Mr. Adams, brandishing his cane threateningly.
Phil turned down the street, without casting so much as a glance
in the direction of his wrathful uncle, and continued on toward
the open country.  To anyone who had observed him there was
nothing of uncertainty in the lad's walk as he swung along. As a
matter of fact, Phil had not the slightest idea where he was
going.  He knew only that he wanted to get away by himself.
On the outskirts of the village men had been at work that day,
cutting and piling up hay.  The field was dotted with heaps of
the fragrant, freshly garnered stuff.
Phil hesitated, glanced across the field, and, noting that the
men had all gone home for the day, climbed the fence.  He walked
on through the field until he had reached the opposite side of
it. Then the lad placed his bag on the ground and sat down on a
pile of hay.
With head in hands, he tried to think, to plan, but somehow his
mind seemed unable to perform its proper functions.  It simply
would not work.
"Not much of a start in the world, this," grinned Phil, shifting
his position so as to command a better view of the world, for he
did not want anyone to see him.  "I suppose Uncle Abner is
getting supper now.  But where am I going to get mine?  I hadn't
thought of that before.  It looks very much as if I should have
to go without.  But I don't care.  Perhaps it will do me good to
miss a meal," decided the boy sarcastically.  "I've been eating
too much lately, anyhow."
Twilight came; then the shadows of night slowly settled over the
landscape, while the lad lay stretched out on the sweet-smelling
hay, hands supporting his head, gazing up into the starlit sky.
Slowly his heavy eyelids fluttered and closed, and Phil was
asleep. The night was warm and he experienced no discomfort.  He
was a strong, healthy boy, so that sleeping out of doors was no
hardship to him.  All through the night he slept as soundly as if
he had been in his own bed at home.  Nor did he awaken until the
bright sunlight of the morning finally burned his eyelids apart.
Phil started up rubbing his eyes.
At first he wondered where he was.  But the sight of his bag
lying a little to one side brought back with a rush the memory of
what had happened to him the evening before.
"Why, it's morning," marveled the lad, blinking in the strong
sunlight. "And I've slept on this pile of hay all night.  It's
the first time I ever slept out of doors, and I never slept
better in my life. Guess I'll fix myself up a little."
Phil remembered that a little trout stream cut across the field
off to the right.  Taking up his bag, he started for the stream,
where he made his toilet as best he could, finishing up by lying
flat on his stomach, taking a long, satisfying drink of the
sparkling water.
"Ah, that feels better," he breathed, rolling over on the bank.
After a little he helped himself to another drink.  "But I've got
to do something.  I can't stay out here in this field all the
rest of my life.  And if I don't find something to eat I'll
starve to death.  I'll go downtown and see if I can't earn my
breakfast somehow."
Having formed this resolution, Phil took up his belongings and
started away toward the village.  His course led him right past
Abner Adams' house, but, fortunately, Mr. Adams was not in sight.
Phil would have felt a keen humiliation had he been forced to
meet the taunts of his uncle.  He hurried on past the house
without glancing toward it.
He had gone on for some little way when he was halted by a
familiar voice.
"Hello, Phil!  Where are you going in such a hurry and so early
in the morning?"
Phil started guiltily and looked up quickly at the speaker.
"Good morning, Mrs. Cahill.  What time is it?"
"It's just past four o'clock in the morning."
"Gracious!  I had no idea it was so early as that," exclaimed the
"If you are not in such a great hurry, stop a bit," urged the
woman, her keen eyes noting certain things that she did not give
voice to.  She had known Phil Forrest for many years, and his
parents before him.  Furthermore, she knew something of the life
he had led since the death of his parents.  "Had your breakfast?"
"Of course you haven't.  Come right in and eat with me," urged
the good-hearted widow.
"If you will let me do some chores, or something to pay for it, I
will," agreed Phil hesitatingly.
"Nothing of the kind!  You'll keep me company at breakfast; then
you'll be telling me all about it."
"About what?"
" 'Bout your going away," pointing significantly to the bag that
Phil was carrying.
He was ravenously hungry, though he did not realize it fully
until the odor of the widow's savory cooking smote his nostrils.
She watched him eat with keen satisfaction.
"Now tell me what's happened," urged Mrs. Cahill, after he had
finished the meal.
Phil did so.  He opened his heart to the woman who had known his
mother, while she listened in sympathetic silence, now and then
uttering an exclamation of angry disapproval when his uncle's
words were repeated to her.
"And you're turned out of house and home?  Is that it, my boy?"
"Well, yes, that's about it," grinned Phil.
"It's a shame."
"I'm not complaining, you know, Mrs. Cahill.  Perhaps it's the
best thing that could have happened to me.  I've got to start out
for myself sometime, you know.  I'm glad of one thing, and that
is that I didn't have to go until school closed.  I get through
the term today, you know?"
"And you're going to school today?"
"Oh, yes.  I wouldn't want to miss the last day."
"Then what?"
"I don't know.  I shall find something else to do, I guess. I
want to earn enough money this summer so that I can go to school
again in the fall."
"And you shall.  You shall stay right here with the Widow Cahill
until you've got through with your schooling, my lad."
"I couldn't think of that.  No; I am not going to be a burden to
anyone.  Don't you see how I feel--that I want to earn my own
living now?"
She nodded understandingly.
"You can do some chores and--"
"I'll stay here until I find something else to do," agreed Phil
slowly.  "I shan't be able to look about much today, because I'll
be too busy at school; but tomorrow I'll begin hunting for a job.
What can I do for you this morning?"
"Well, you might chop some wood if you are aching to exercise
your muscles," answered the widow, with a twinkle in her eyes.
She knew that there was plenty of wood stored in the woodhouse,
but she was too shrewd an observer to tell Phil so, realizing, as
she did, that the obligation he felt for her kindness was too
great to be lightly treated.
Phil got at his task at once, and in a few moments she heard him
whistling an accompaniment to the steady thud, thud of the axe as
he swung it with strong, resolute arms.
"He's a fine boy," was the Widow Cahill's muttered conclusion.
Phil continued at his work without intermission until an hour had
passed.  Mrs. Cahill went out, begging that he come in and rest.
"Rest?  Why, haven't I been resting all night?  I feel as if I
could chop down the house and work it up into kindling wood, all
before school time.  What time is it?"
"Nigh on to seven o'clock.  I've wanted to ask you something ever
since you told me you had left Abner Adams.  It's rather a
personal question."
The lad nodded.
"Did your uncle send you away without any money?"
"Of course.  Why should he have given me anything so long as I
was going to leave him?"
"Did you ever hear him say that your mother had left a little
money with him before she died--money that was to be used for
your education as long as it lasted?"
Phil straightened up slowly, his axe falling to the ground, an
expression of surprise appeared in his eyes.
"My mother left money--for me, you say?" he wondered.
"No, Phil, I haven't said so.  I asked you if Abner had ever said
anything of the sort?"
"No.  Do you think she did?"
"I'm not saying what I think.  I wish I was a man; I'd read old
Abner Adams a lecture that he wouldn't forget as long as he
Phil smiled indulgently.
"He's an old man, Mrs. Cahill.  He's all crippled up with
rheumatism, and maybe he's got a right to be cranky--"
"And to turn his own sister's child outdoors, eh?  Not by a long
shot. Rheumatics don't give anybody any call to do any such a
thing as that. He ought to have his nose twisted, and it's me, a
good church member, as says so."
The lad picked up his axe and resumed his occupation, while Mrs.
Cahill turned up a chunk of wood and sat down on it, keeping up a
running fire of comment, mostly directed at Abner Adams, and
which must have made his ears burn.
Shortly after eight o'clock Phil gathered his books, strapped
them and announced that he would be off for school.
"I'll finish the woodpile after school," he called back, as he
was leaving the gate.
"You'll do nothing of the sort," retorted the Widow Cahill.
Darting out of the yard, Phil ran plump into someone, and halted
sharply with an earnest apology.
"Seems to me you're in a terrible rush about something. Where you
"Hello, Teddy, that you?"
"It's me," answered Teddy ungrammatically.
"I'm on my way to school."
"Never could understand why anybody should want to run when he's
going to school.  Now, I always run when I start off after
school's out.  What you doing here?" demanded the boy, drawing
his eyelids down into a squint.
"I've been chopping some wood for Mrs. Cahill."
"Huh!  What's the matter with the bear this morning?"
Teddy jerked a significant thumb in the direction of Phil's
former home.
"Bear's got a grouch on a rod wide this morning."
"Oh, you mean Uncle Abner," answered Phil, his face clouding.
"I just dropped in to see if you were ready to go to school. He
yelled at me like he'd gone crazy."
"That all?" grinned the other boy.
"No.  He chased me down the road till his game knee gave out;
then he fell down."
Phil could not repress a broad grin at this news.
"Good thing for me that I could run.  He'd have given me a
walloping for sure if he'd caught me.  I'll bet that stick hurts
when it comes down on a fellow.  Don't it, Phil?"
"I should think it would.  I have never felt it, but I have had
some pretty narrow escapes.  What did the folks you are living
with say when you got home all mud last night?"
Teddy grinned a sheepish sort of grin.
"Told me I'd better go out in the horse barn--said my particular
style of beauty was better suited to the stable than to the
"Well, no, not so as you might notice it.  I went down to the
creek and went in swimming, clothes and all.  That was the
easiest way.  You see, I could wash the mud off my clothes and
myself all at the same time."
"It's a wonder they let you in at all, then."
"They didn't; at least not until I had wrung the water out of my
trousers and twisted my hair up into a regular top-knot.  Then I
crawled in behind the kitchen stove and got dried out after a
while.  But I got my supper.  I always do."
"Yes; I never knew you to go without meals."
"Sorry you ain't going to the circus tomorrow, Phil."
"I am.  Teddy, I'm free.  I can do as I like now.  Yes, I'll go
to the circus with you, and maybe if I can earn some money
tonight I'll treat you to red lemonade and peanuts."
"Hooray!" shouted Teddy, tossing his hat high in the air.
THE CIRCUS COMES TO TOWN
The Sparling Combined Shows came rumbling into Edmeston at about
three o'clock the next morning.  But, early as was the hour, two
boys sat on the Widow Cahill's door-yard fence watching the
wagons go by.
The circus was one of the few road shows that are now traveling
through the country, as distinguished from the great modern
organizations that travel by rail with from one to half a dozen
massive trains.  The Sparling people drove from town to town.
They carried twenty-five wagons, besides a band wagon, a
wild-west coach and a calliope.
"Phil!  Phil!  Look!" exclaimed Teddy, clutching at his
companion's coat sleeve, as two hulking, swaying figures appeared
out of the shadows of the early morning.
"Elephants!  There's two of them."
"Ain't that great?  I didn't suppose they'd have any elephants.
Wonder if there's any lions and tigers in those big wagons."
"Of course there are.  Didn't you see pictures of them on the
bills, Teddy?"
"I don't know.  Dan Marts, the postmaster, says you can't set any
store by the pictures.  He says maybe they've got the things you
see in the pictures, and maybe they haven't.  There's a camel!
Look at it!  How'd you like to ride on that hump all day?"
questioned Teddy gleefully.
"Shouldn't like it at all."
"I read in my geography that they ride on them all the time on
the--on--on Sarah's Desert."
"Oh, you mean the Sahara Desert--that's what you mean," laughed
"Well, maybe."
"I should rather ride an elephant.  See, it's just like a rocking
chair.  I could almost go to sleep watching them move along."
"I couldn't," declared Teddy.  "I couldn't any more go to sleep
when a circus is going by than I could fly without wings."
"See, there comes a herd of ponies.  Look how small they are. Not
much bigger than St. Bernard dogs.  They could walk right under
the elephants and not touch them."
"Where do they all sleep?" wondered Teddy.
"Who, the ponies?"
"No, of course not.  The people."
"I don't know unless they sleep in the cages with the animals,"
laughed Phil.  "Some of the folks appear to be sleeping on the
"I'd be willing to go without sleep if I could be a showman,"
mused Teddy.  "Wouldn't you?"
"Sure," agreed Phil.  "Hello!  There come some more wagons. Come
on!  We'll run down to meet them."
"No; Let's go over to the grounds where the circus is coming off.
They'll be putting up the tents first thing we know."
"That's so, and I want to be around.  You going to work any,
"Not I.  I'm going to see the show, but you don't catch me
carrying pails of water for the elephants for a ticket of
admission that don't admit you to anything except a stand-up. I
can stand up cheaper than that."
Both boys slipped from the fence, and, setting off at a jog trot,
began rapidly overhauling and passing the slow-moving wagons with
their tired horses and more tired drivers.
By the time Teddy and Phil reached the circus grounds several
wagons were already there.  Shouts sprang up from all parts of
the field, while half a dozen men began measuring off the ground
in the dim morning light, locating the best places in which to
pitch the tents.  Here and there they would drive in a stake, on
one of which they tied a piece of newspaper.
"Wonder what that's for," thought Phil aloud.
"Hey, what's the paper tied on the peg for?" shouted Teddy to a
passing showman.
"That's the front door, sonny."
"Funniest looking front door I ever saw," grunted Teddy.
"He means that's the place where the people enter and leave their
"Oh, yes.  That's what they call the 'Main Entrance,'" nodded
Teddy. "I've seen it, but I don't usually go in that way."
With the early dawn figures began emerging from several of the
wagons.  They were a sleepy looking lot, and for a time stood
about in various attitudes, yawning, stretching their arms and
rubbing their eyes.
"Hey, boy, what town is this?" questioned a red-haired youth,
dragging himself toward the two lads.
"Oh, yes.  I remember; I was here once before."
"With a show?" asked Teddy.
"Yes, with a Kickapoo Indian medicine man.  And he was bad
medicine. Say, where can I wash my countenance?"
"Come on; I'll show you," exclaimed Teddy and Phil in the same
They led the way to the opposite side of the field, where there
was a stream of water.  While the circus boy was making his
morning toilet the lads watched him in admiring silence.
"What do you do?" ventured Phil.
"I perform on the rings."
"Up in the air?"
"Ever fall off?"
"I get my bumps," grinned the red-haired boy.  "My name is Rodney
Palmer.  What's your names?"
They told him.
"We're going to be circus men, too," Teddy informed him, but the
announcement did not seem to stir a deep interest in the circus
boy. He had heard other boys say the same thing.  "Is it very
"Worst ever."
"When do you sleep?"
"When we ain't awake."
"And you perform on the flying rings?"
Rodney nodded his head indifferently.
"I should think you'd burn the tent up with that head of red
hair," grinned Teddy.
Instead of getting angry at the boy's thrust, Rodney glanced at
Teddy with a half questioning look in his eyes, then burst out
"You're a cheerful idiot, aren't you?" he twinkled.  "I'll tell
you why I don't.  Confidentially, you know?"
"I wear a wig when I'm performing.  Mebby if it wasn't for that I
might set something on fire.  I must get over on the lot now."
"You're in a lot already," Teddy informed him.
"We call the place where we pitch the tents 'the lot.'  The cook
tent must be up by this time, and I'm half starved.  The
performance was so late yesterday afternoon that they had the
cook tent down before I got my supper.  Will you come along?"
"Do you think there is anything I could do to earn a ticket to
the show today?" asked Phil.
"Yes, there's most always something for a boy to do."
"Whom do I ask about it?"
"Go see the boss canvasman.  I'll point him out to you as we go
"Thank you.  You want to see him, too, Teddy?"
"No; I don't have to."
"That's him over there.  He's a grouch, but just don't let him
bluff you.  Yes, the cook tent's about ready.  I'll sneak in and
hook something before breakfast; then mebby I'll come back and
talk with you."
"We'll look for you in the show this afternoon," said Phil.
"All right, if I see you I'll swing my hand to you," Rodney
replied, starting for the cook tent, where the meals were served
to the show people.
"Now, I'm going to see that boss canvasman," announced Phil.
"See, they are laying the pieces of the tents flat on the ground.
I suppose they fasten them all together when they get them
placed, then raise them up on the poles."
"I guess so.  I don't care much so long as I don't have to do
"Teddy Tucker, actually you are the laziest boy I ever knew. Why
don't you brace up?"
"Don't I have just as good a time and better, than you do?"
"Guess you do."
"Don't I get just as much to eat?"
"I presume so," admitted Phil.
"Don't I see all the shows that come to town, and go to all the
"Then, what's the use of being any more'n lazy?"
Teddy's logic was too much for his companion, and Phil laughed
"Look, the elephant is butting one of the wagons," cried Teddy.
"No, they are using the elephant to push the cage around in
place. I wonder what's in it," said Phil.
A roar that fairly made the ground shake answered Phil's
question. The cage in question held a lion, and a big, ugly one
if his voice was any indication.  The great elephant, when the
cage was being placed, would, at a signal from its keeper, place
its ponderous head against one side of the cage and push, while a
driver would steer the wagon by taking hold of the end of the
It was a novel sight for the two boys, and they watched it with
the keenest interest.  A man dressed in riding clothes, carrying
a short crop in his hand, was observing the operations with equal
interest.  He was James Sparling, the proprietor and manager of
the Great Combined Shows, but the lads were unaware of that fact.
Even had they known, it is doubtful if Mr. Sparling would have
been of sufficient attraction to draw their attention from the
working elephant.
All at once there was a warning shout from Mr. Sparling.
The men set up a yell, followed by a sudden scurrying from the
immediate vicinity of the cage that the elephant had been
shunting about.
"Stop it!  Brace it!" bellowed the owner of the show, making
frantic motions with his free hand, cutting circles and dashes in
the air with the short crop held in the other.
"What's the row?" wondered Teddy.
"I--I don't know," stammered Phil.
"The elephant's tipping the lion cage over!" shouted someone.
"Run for your lives!"
For once in his life Teddy Tucker executed a lightning-like
movement. He was one of several dark streaks on the landscape
running as if Wallace, the biggest lion in captivity, were in
reality hard upon his heels.  As he ran, Teddy uttered a howl
that could have been heard from one end of the circus lot to the
A few of the more fearless ones, the old hands of the show, did
not attempt to run.  Instead they stood still, fairly holding
their breaths, waiting to see what would happen next.
Mr. Sparling was too far away to be able to do anything to
prevent the catastrophe that was hanging over them, but it did
not prevent him from yelling like a madman at the inactive
employees of the show.
At the first cry--the instant he comprehended what was
happening-- Phil Forrest moved every bit as quickly as had his
companion, though he leaped in the opposite direction.
All about on the ground lay tent poles of various length and
thickness, side poles, quarter poles and the short side poles
used to hold the tent walls in place.  These were about twenty
feet in length and light enough to be easily handled.
With ready resourcefulness and quick comprehension, Phil pounced
upon one of these and darted toward the cage which was toppling
over in his direction.
The roof of the lion cage that housed Wallace projected over the
edge some six inches, and this had caught the keen eyes of the
lad at the first alarm.  His plan had been formed in a flash.
He shot one end of the side pole up under the projecting roof,
jammed the other end into the ground, throwing his whole weight
upon the foot of the pole to hold it in place.
For an instant the tent pole bent like a bow under the pull of
the archer.  It seemed as if it must surely snap under the
terrific strain.
Phil saw this, too.  Now that the foot of the pole was firmly
imbedded in the ground, there was no further need for him to hold
it down.  He sprang under the pole with the swaying cage directly
over him, grabbed the pole at the point where it was arching so
dangerously, and pulling himself from the ground, held to the
slippery stick desperately.
Light as he was the boy's weight saved the pole.  It bent no
The cage swayed from side to side, threatening to topple over at
one end or the other.
"Get poles under the ends," shouted the boy in a shrill voice. "I
can't hold it here all day."
"Get poles, you lazy good-for-nothings!" bellowed the owner.
"Brace those ends.  Look out for the elephant.  Don't you see
he's headed for the cage again?"
Orders flew thick and fast, but through it all Phil Forrest hung
grimly to the side pole, taking a fresh overhand hold, now and
then, as his palms slipped down the painted stick.
Now that he had shown the way, others sprang to his assistance.
Half a dozen poles were thrust up under the roof and the cage
began slowly settling back the other way.
"Hadn't you better have some poles braced against the other side,
sir?" suggested Phil, touching his hat to Mr. Sparling, who, he
had discovered, was some person in authority.  "The cage may tip
clear over on the other side, or it may drop so heavily on the
wheels as to break the axles."
"Right.  Brace the off side.  That's right.  Now let it down
slowly. Not so hard on the nigh side there.  Ease off there,
Bill.  Push, Patsy. What do you think this is--a game of croquet?
There you go.  Right. Now let's see if you woodenheads know
enough to keep the wagon right side up."
Mr. Sparling took off his hat and wiped the perspiration from his
forehead, while Phil stood off calmly surveying the men who were
straightening the wagon, but with more caution than they had
exercised before.
"Come here, boy."
Someone touched Phil on the arm.
"What is it?"
"Boss wants to speak to you."
"Boss Sparling, the fellow over there with the big voice and the
Phil walked over and touched his hat to Mr. Sparling.
The showman looked the lad over from head to foot.
"What's your name?"  He shot the question at the lad as if angry
about something, and he undoubtedly was.
"Phil Forrest."
"Do they grow your kind around here?"
"I can't say, sir."
"If they do, I'd like to hire a dozen or more of them.  You've
got more sense than any boy of your age I ever saw.  How old are
"Huh!  I wish I had him!" growled Mr. Sparling.  "What do you
"I should like to have a chance to earn a pass to the show this
afternoon.  Rodney Palmer said the boss canvasman might give me a
chance to earn one."
"Earn one?  Earn one?" Mr. Sparling's voice rose to a roar again.
"What in the name of Old Dan Rice do you think you've been doing?
Here you've kept a cage with a five-thousand-dollar lion from
tipping over, to say nothing of the people who might have been
killed had the brute got out, and you want to know how you can
earn a pass to the show?  What d'ye think of that?" and the owner
appealed helplessly to an assistant who had run across the lot,
having been attracted to the scene by the uproar.
The assistant grinned.
"He's too modest to live."
"Pity modesty isn't more prevalent in this show, then.  How many
do you want?  Have a whole section if you say the word."
"How many are there in a section?" asked Phil.
" 'Bout a hundred seats."
Phil gasped.
"I--I guess two will be enough," he made answer.
"Here you are," snapped the owner, thrusting a card at the lad,
on which had been scribbled some characters, puzzling to the
uninitiated.  "If you want anything else around this show you
just ask for it, young man.  Hey, there!  Going to be all day
getting that canvas up?  Don't you know we've got a parade coming
along in a few hours?"
Phil Forrest, more light of heart than in many days, turned away
to acquaint his companion of his good fortune.  Teddy Tucker was
making his way cautiously back to the scene of the excitement of
a few moments before.
"Did he get away?" Teddy questioned, ready to run at the drop of
the hat should the danger prove to be still present.
"Who, the manager?"
"No, the lion."
"He's in the cage where he's been all the time.  They haven't
opened it yet, but I guess he's all right.  Say, Teddy!"
"I've got a pass to the show for two people for both
performances--this afternoon and tonight."
The interest that the announcement brought to Teddy's eyes died
away almost as soon as it appeared.
"Am I going?  I should say so.  Want to go in with me on my pass,
The lad hitched his trousers, took a critical squint at the
canvas that was slowly mounting the center pole to the
accompaniment of creaking ropes, groaning tackle and confused
"They're getting the menagerie tent up.  I'll bet it's going to
be a dandy show," he vouchsafed.  "How'd you get the tickets?"
"Manager gave them to me."
"I did a little work for him.  Helped get the lion's cage
straightened up.  How about it--are you going in on my pass?"
"N-o-o," drawled Teddy.  "Might get me into bad habits to go in
on a pass.  I'd rather sneak in under the tent when the boss
isn't looking."
WHEN THE BANDS PLAYED
Phil started for the Widow Cahill's on the run after having
procured his tickets.  "Here's a ticket for the circus, Mrs.
Cahill," he shouted, bursting into the room, with excited,
flushed face.
"What's this you say--the circus?  Land sakes, I haven't seen one
since I was--well, since I was a girl.  I don't know."
"You'll go, won't you?" urged Phil.
"Of course, I'll go," she made haste to reply, noting the
disappointment in his face over her hesitation.  "And thank you
"Shall I come and get you, Mrs. Cahill, or can you get over to
the circus grounds alone?"
"Don't worry about me, my boy.  I'll take care of myself."
"Your seat will be right next to mine, and we can talk while we
are watching the performers."
"Yes; you run along now.  Here's a quarter for spending money.
Never mind thanking me.  Just take it and have a good time.
Where's your friend?"
"Over on the lot."
"He going in with you, too?"
"Oh, no.  Teddy is too proud to go in that way.  He crawls in
under the tent," laughed Phil, running down the steps and setting
off for the circus grounds with all speed.
When he arrived there he saw at once that something was going on.
The tents were all in place, the little white city erected with
as much care and attention to detail as if the show expected to
remain in Edmeston all summer.  The lad could scarcely make
himself believe that, only a few hours before, this very lot had
been occupied by the birds alone.  It was a marvel to him, even
in after years, when he had become as thoroughly conversant with
the details of a great show as any man in America.
Just now there was unusual activity about the grounds.  Men in
gaudy uniforms, clowns in full makeup, and women with long
glistening trains, glittering with spangles from head to feet,
were moving about, while men were decorating the horses with
bright blankets and fancy headdress.
"What are they going to do?" asked Phil of a showman.
"Going to parade."
"Oh, yes, that's so; I had forgotten about that."
"Hello, boy--I've forgotten your name--"
"Forrest," explained Phil, turning.  The speaker was Mr.
Sparling's assistant, whom the lad had seen just after saving the
lion cage from turning over.
"Can you blow a horn as well as you can stop a wagon?"
"Depends upon what kind of a horn.  I think I can make as much
noise on a fish horn as anyone else."
"That'll do as well as anything else.  Want to go in the parade?"
"I'd love to!"  The color leaped to the cheeks of Phil Forrest
and a sparkle to his eyes.  This was going beyond his fondest
The assistant motioned to a clown.
"Fix this boy up in some sort of a rig.  I'm going to put him in
the Kazoo Band.  Bring him back here when he is ready.  Be
A long, yellow robe was thrown about the boy, a peaked cap thrust
on his head, after which a handful of powder was slapped on his
face and rubbed down with the flat of the clown's hand.  The fine
dust got into the lad's nostrils and throat, causing him to
sneeze until the tears rolled down his cheeks, streaking his
makeup like a freshet through a plowed field.
"Good," laughed the clown.  "That's what your face needs. You'd
make a good understudy for Chief Rain-In-The-Face. Now hustle
Phil picked up the long skirts and ran full speed to the place
where the assistant had been standing.  There he waited until the
assistant returned from a journey to some other part of the lot.
"That's right; you know how to obey orders," he nodded.  "That's
a good clown makeup.  Did Mr. Miaco put those streaks on your
"No, I sneezed them there," answered Phil, with a sheepish grin.
The assistant laughed heartily.  Somehow, he had taken a sudden
liking to this boy.
"Do you live at home, Forrest?"
"No; I have no home now."
"Here's a fish horn.  Now get up in the band wagon--no, not the
big one, I mean the clowns' band wagon with the hayrack on it.
When the parade starts blow your confounded head off if you want
to.  Make all the noise you can.  You'll have plenty of company.
When the parade breaks up, just take off your makeup and turn it
over to Mr. Miaco."
"You mean these clothes?"
"Yes.  They're a part of the makeup.  You'll have to wash the
makeup off your face.  I don't expect you to return the powder to
us," grinned the assistant humorously.
The clowns were climbing to the hayrack.  A bugle had blown as a
signal that the parade was ready to move.  Phil had not seen
Teddy Tucker since returning to the lot.  He did not know where
the boy was, but he was quite sure that Teddy was not missing any
of the fun.  Tucker had been around circuses before, and knew how
to make the most of his opportunities.  And he was doing so now.
"Ta ra, ta ra, ta ra!" sang the bugle.
Crash!  answered the cymbals and the bass drums.  The snare drums
buzzed a long, thrilling roll; then came the blare of the brass
as the whole band launched into a lively tune such as only circus
bands know how to play.
The parade had begun to move.
It was a thrilling moment--the moment of all moments of Phil
Forrest's life.
The clowns' wagon had been placed well back in the line, so as
not to interfere with the music of the band itself.  But Phil did
not care where he was placed.  He only knew that he was in a
circus parade, doing his part with the others, and that, so far
as anyone knew, he was as much a circus man as any of them.
As the cavalcade drew out into the main street and straightened
away, Phil was amazed to see what a long parade it was.  It
looked as if it might reach the whole length of the village.
The spring sun was shining brightly, lighting up the line,
transforming it into a moving, flashing, brilliant ribbon of
light and color.
"Splendid!" breathed the boy, removing the fish horn from his
lips for a brief instant, then blowing with all his might again.
As the wagons moved along he saw many people whom he knew.  As a
matter of fact, Phil knew everyone in the village, but there were
hundreds of people who had driven in from the farms whom he did
not know.  Nor did anyone appear to recognize him.
"If they only knew, wouldn't they be surprised?" chuckled the
lad. "Hello, there's Mrs. Cahill."
The widow was standing on her front door step with a dishtowel in
In the excess of his excitement, Phil stood up, waving his horn
and yelling.
She heard him--as everybody else within a radius of a quarter of
a mile might have--and she recognized the voice.  Mrs. Cahill
brandished the dishtowel excitedly.
"He's a fine boy," she glowed.  "And he's having the first good
time he's had in five years."
The Widow Cahill was right.  For the first time in all these
years, since the death of his parents, Phil Forrest was carefree
and perfectly happy.
The clowns on the wagon with him were uproariously funny.  When
the wagon stopped now and then, one whom Phil recognized as the
head clown, Mr. Miaco, would spring to the edge of the rack and
make a stump speech in pantomime, accompanied by all the gestures
included in the pouring and drinking of a glass of water.  So
humorous were the clown's antics that the spectators screamed
with laughter.
Suddenly the lad espied that which caused his own laughter to die
away, and for the moment he forgot to toot the fish horn.  The
parade was passing his former home, and there, standing hunched
forward, leaning on his stick and glaring at the procession from
beneath bushy eyebrows, stood Phil's uncle, Abner Adams.
Phil's heart leaped into his throat; at least that was the
sensation that he experienced.
"I--I hope he doesn't know me," muttered the lad, shrinking back
a little.  "But I'm a man now.  I don't care.  He's driven me out
and he has no right to say a thing."
The lad lost some of his courage, however, when the procession
halted, and he found that his wagon was directly in front of Mr.
Adams' dooryard, with his decrepit uncle not more than twenty
feet away from him.  The surly, angry eyes of Abner Adams seemed
to be burning through Phil's makeup, and the lad instinctively
shrank back ever so little.
However, at that instant the boy's attention was attracted to
another part of the wagon.  The head clown stepped from the wagon
and, with dignified tread, approached Abner Adams.  He grasped
the old man by the hand, which he shook with great warmth, making
a courtly bow.
At first Abner Adams was too surprised to protest.  Then,
uttering an angry snarl, he threw the clown off, making a vicious
pass at him with his heavy stick.
The clown dodged the blow, and made a run for the wagon, which
was now on the move again.
Phil breathed a sigh of relief.  The people had roared at the
funny sight of the clown shaking hands with the crabbed old man;
but to Phil Forrest there had been nothing of humor in it. The
sight of his uncle brought back too many unhappy memories.
The lad soon forgot his depression, however, in the rapid changes
that followed each other in quick succession as on a moving-
picture film.
Reaching the end of the village street the procession was obliged
to turn and retrace its steps over the same ground until it
reached the business part of the town, where it would turn off
and pass through some of the side streets.
Now there were two lines, moving in opposite directions.  This
was of interest to Phil, enabling him, as it did, to get a good
look at the other members of the troupe.  Mr. Sparling was riding
ahead in a carriage drawn by four splendid white horses, driven
by a coachman resplendent in livery and gold lace, while the
bobbing plumes on the heads of the horses added to the
impressiveness of the picture.
"I'd give anything in the world to be able to ride in a carriage
like that," decided Phil.  "Maybe someday I shall.  We'll see."
Now came the elephants, lumbering along on velvet feet.  On the
second one there crouched a figure that somehow seemed strangely
familiar to Phil Forrest.  The figure was made up to represent a
A peculiar gesture of one of the frog's legs revealed the
identity of the figure beneath the mask.
"Teddy!" howled Phil.
"Have a frog's leg," retorted Teddy, shaking one of them
vigorously at the motley collection of clowns.
"Not eating frogs legs today," jeered a clown, as Teddy went
swinging past them, a strange, grotesque figure on the back of
the huge, hulking beast.
The clowns' wagon was just on the point of turning when the men
heard a loud uproar far down the line.  At first they thought it
was a part of the show, but it soon became apparent that
something was wrong.
Phil instinctively let the horn fall away from his lips.  He
peered curiously over the swaying line to learn what, if
anything, had gone wrong.
He made out the cause of the trouble almost at once.  A pony with
a woman on its back had broken from the line, and was plunging
toward them at a terrific pace.  She appeared to have lost all
control of the animal, and the pony, which proved to be an ugly
broncho, was bucking and squealing as it plunged madly down the
The others failed to see what Phil had observed almost from the
first.  The bit had broken in the mouth of the broncho and the
reins hung loosely in the woman's helpless hands.
They were almost up with the clowns' wagon when the woman was
seen to sway dizzily in her saddle, as the leather slipped
beneath her. Then she plunged headlong to the ground.
Instead of falling in a heap, the circus woman, with head
dragging, bumping along the ground, was still fast to the pony.
"Her foot is caught in the stirrup!" yelled half a dozen men at
once, but not a man of them made an effort to rescue her. Perhaps
this was because none of the real horsemen of the show were near
enough to do so.
Mr. Sparling, however, at the first alarm, had leaped from his
carriage, and, thrusting a rider from his mount, sprang into the
saddle and came tearing down the line in a cloud of dust.  He was
bearing down on the scene at express train speed.
"The woman will be killed!"
"Stop him!  Stop him!"
"Stop him yourself!"
But not a man made an effort to do anything.
It had all occurred in a few seconds, but rapidly as the events
succeeded each other, Phil Forrest seemed to be the one among
them who retained his presence of mind.
He fairly launched himself into the air as the ugly broncho shot
alongside the clowns' wagon.
PROVING HIS METTLE
Familiar as they were with daring deeds, those of the circus
people who witnessed Phil Forrest's dive gasped.
They expected to see the boy fall beneath the feet of the
plunging pony, where he would be likely to be trampled and kicked
But Phil had looked before he leaped.  He had measured his
distance well--had made up his mind exactly what he was going to
do, or rather what he was going to try to do.
The pony, catching a brief glimpse of the dark figure that was
being hurled through the air directly toward him, made a swift
leap to one side.  But the animal was not quick enough.  The boy
landed against the broncho with a jolt that nearly knocked the
little animal over, while to Phil the impact could not have been
much more severe, it seemed to him, had he collided with a
"Hang on!" howled a voice from the wagon.
That was exactly what he intended to do.
The cloud of dust, with Mr. Sparling in the center of it, had not
reached them, but his keen eyes already had observed what was
"G-g-g-grab the woman!" shouted Phil.
His left arm had been thrown about the broncho's neck, while his
right hand was groping frantically for the animal's nose. But
during all this time the pony was far from idle.  He was plunging
like a ship in a gale, cracking the whip with Phil Forrest until
it seemed as if every bone in the lad's body would be broken.  He
could hear his own neck snap with every jerk.
With a howl Miaco, the head clown, launched himself from the
wagon, too.  Darting in among the flying hoofs--there seemed to
be a score of them--he caught the woman, jerked her foot free of
the stirrup and dragged her quickly from her perilous position.
"She's free.  Let go!" he roared to the boy holding the pony.
But by this time Phil had fastened his right hand on the pony's
nostrils, and with a quick pressure shut off the animal's wind.
He had heard the warning cry.  The lad's grit had been aroused,
however, and he was determined that he would not let go until he
should have conquered the fighting broncho.
With a squeal of rage, the pony leaped sideways.  A deep ditch
led along by the side of the road, but this the enraged animal
had not noticed.  Into it he went, kicking and fighting, pieces
of Phil's yellow robe streaming from his hoofs.
The lad's body was half under the neck of the pony, but he was
clinging to the neck and the nose of the beast with desperate
"Get the boy out of there!" thundered Mr. Sparling, dashing up
and leaping from his pony.  "Want to let him be killed?"
By this time others had ridden up, and some of the real horsemen
in the outfit sprang off and rushed to Phil Forrest's assistance.
Ropes were cast over the flying hoofs before the men thought it
wise to get near them.  Then they hauled Phil out, very much the
worse for wear.
In the meantime Mr. Sparling's carriage had driven up and he was
helping the woman in.
"Is the boy hurt?" he called.
"No, I'm all right, thank you," answered Phil, smiling bravely,
though he was bruised from head to foot and his clothing hung in
tatters.  His peaked clown's cap someone picked up in a field
over the fence and returned to him.  That was about all that was
left of Phil Forrest's gaudy makeup, save the streaks on his
face, which by now had become blotches of white and red.
The clowns picked him up and boosted him to the wagon, jabbering
like a lot of sparrows perched on a telephone wire.
"See you later!" shouted the voice of Mr. Sparling as he drove
rapidly away.
Phil found his horn, and despite his aches and pains he began
blowing it lustily.  The story of his brave rescue had gone on
ahead, however, and as the clowns' wagon moved on it was greeted
by tremendous applause.
The onlookers had no difficulty in picking out the boy who had
saved the woman's life, and somehow the word had been passed
around as to his identity.
"Hooray for Phil Forrest!" shouted the multitude.
Phil flushed under the coating of powder and paint, and sought to
crouch down in the wagon out of sight.
"Here, get up there where they can see you!" admonished a clown.
"If you're going to be a showman you mustn't be afraid to get
yourself in the spotlight."
Two of them hoisted the blushing Phil to their shoulders and
broke into a rollicking song, swaying their bodies in imitation
of the movements of an elephant as they sang.
At this the populace fairly howled with delight.
"He's the boy, even if he ain't purty to look at," jeered someone
in the crowd.
"Handsome is as handsome does!" retorted a clown in a loud voice,
and the people cheered.
After this the parade went on without further incident, though
there could be no doubt that the exciting dash and rescue by one
of their own boys had aroused the town to a high pitch of
excitement.  And the showmen smiled, for they knew what that
"Bet we'll have a turn-away this afternoon," announced a clown.
"Looks that way," agreed another, "and all on account of the
"What's a turn-away?" asked Phil.
"That's when there are more people want to get in than the tent
will hold.  And it means, too, that the boss will be good natured
till it rains again, and the wagons get stuck in the mud so that
we'll make the next town behind time.  At such times he can make
more noise than the steam calliope."
"He seems to me to be a pretty fine sort of a man, even if he is
gruff," suggested Phil.
"The best ever," agreed several clowns.  "You'll look a long way
before you'll find a better showman, or a better man to his help,
than Jim Sparling.  Ever been in the show business, kid?"
Phil shook his head.
"Anybody'd think you always had been, the way you take hold of
things. I'll bet you'll be in it before you are many years
"I'd like to," glowed the lad.
"Ask the boss."
"No, he wouldn't want me.  There is nothing I could do now, I
Further conversation was interrupted by the bugle's song
announcing the disbanding of the parade, the right of the line
having already reached the circus lot.
The clowns piled from the hayrack like a cataract, the cataract
having all the colors of the rainbow.
Phil, not to be behind, followed suit, though he did not quite
understand what the rush was about.  He ran until he caught up
"What's the hurry about?" he questioned.
"Parade's over.  Got to hurry and get dinner, so as to be ready
for the afternoon performance."
All hands were heading for the dressing tent in a mad rush.
Phil was halted by the assistant manager.
The lad glanced down rather sheepishly at his costume, which was
hanging in tatters, then up at the quizzically smiling face of
the showman.
"I--I'm sorry I've spoiled it, sir, but I couldn't help it."
"Don't worry about that, young man.  How did it happen?" he
questioned, pretending not to know anything about the occurrence
in which Phil had played a leading part.
"Well, you see, there was a horse ran away, and I happened to get
in the way of it.  I--"
"Yes, Forrest, I understand all about it.  Somebody did something
to that animal to make it run away and the boss is red headed
"I--I didn't."
"No, that's right.  It was lucky that there was one person in the
parade who had some sense left, or there would have been a dead
woman with this outfit," growled the assistant.
"Was she badly hurt?"
"No.  Only bruised up a bit.  These show people get used to hard
"I'm glad she is all right.  Who is she?"
"Don't you know?"
"That was Mr. Sparling's wife whose life you saved, and I reckon
the boss will have something to say to you when he gets sight of
MAKING FRIENDS WITH THE ELEPHANTS
"Is it possible?  I didn't know that," marveled the boy. "And
does she perform?"
"Everybody works in this outfit, young man," laughed the
assistant, "as you will learn if you hang around long enough.
Going to the show?"
"Got seats?"
"Mr. Sparling provided me with tickets, thank you.  But I've got
to get home first and put on some other clothes.  This suit is
about done for, isn't it?"
"I should say it was.  You did that stopping the horse, didn't
Phil nodded.
"Boss will buy you a new suit for that."
"Oh, no; I couldn't allow him to do that," objected Phil.
"Well, you are a queer youngster.  So long.  I'll see you when
you come in this afternoon.  Wait, let me see your tickets."
The lad handed them over wonderingly, at which his questioner
nodded approvingly.
"They're good seats.  Hope you will enjoy the show."
"Thank you; I am sure I shall," answered Phil, touching his hat
and starting on a run for home.
Arriving there, Mrs. Cahill met him and threw up her hands in
horror when she observed the condition of his clothes.
"I am afraid they are gone for good," grinned Phil rather
"No.  You leave them with me.  I'll fix them up for you.  I heard
how you saved that show woman's life.  That was fine, my boy. I'm
proud of you, that I am.  You did more than all those circus men
could do, and the whole town is talking about it."
"If you are going to the show you had better be getting ready,"
urged Phil, wishing to change the subject.
"All right, I will.  I'll fix your clothes when I get back. Will
you be home to supper?"
"I don't know for sure.  If I can I'll be back in time, but
please don't wait for me.  Here is your ticket."
The lad hurried to the room the good woman had set aside for him
and quickly made the change of clothing.  He was obliged to
change everything he had on, for even his shirt had been torn in
his battle with the broncho.  After bathing and putting on the
fresh clothes, Phil hurried from the house, that he might miss
nothing of the show.
The sideshow band was blaring brazenly when he reached the lot.
The space in front of the main entrance was packed with people,
many of whom pointed to him, nodding their heads and directing
the attention of their companions to the lad.
Phil wished he might be able to skulk in by the back door and
thus avoid their attention, but as this was impossible, he pulled
his hat down over his eyes and worked his way slowly toward the
front of the crowd.
Getting near the entrance, he saw Mr. Sparling's assistant. The
latter, chancing to catch sight of Phil, motioned him to crawl
under the ropes and come in.  The boy did so gratefully.
"The doors are not open yet, but you may go in.  You will have
time to look over the animals before the crowd arrives, then you
can reach your seat before the others get in.  Please let me see
those checks once more."
The assistant made a mental note of the section and number of the
seats for future reference and handed back the coupons.
Phil stole into the menagerie tent, relieved to be away from the
gaze and comments of the crowd that was massed in front.
"Gracious, I'm afraid I wouldn't make a very good circus man. I
hate to have everybody looking at me as if I were some natural or
unnatural curiosity.  Wonder if I will know any of the show
people when they are made up, as they call it, and performing in
the ring?  I shouldn't wonder if they didn't know me in my best
clothes, though," grinned the boy.
Phil had had the forethought to bring a few lumps of sugar in his
pocket.  Entering the menagerie tent, he quickly made his way to
the place where the elephants were chained, giving each one of
the big beasts a lump.  He felt no fear of them and permitted
them to run their sensitive trunks over him and into his pockets,
where they soon found the rest of the sugar.
After disposing of the sweets, both beasts emitted a loud
trumpeting. At such close quarters the noise they made seemed to
shake the ground.
"Why do they do that?" questioned Phil of the keeper.
"That's their way of thanking you for the sugar.  You've made
friends of both of them for life.  They'll never forget you, even
if they don't see you for several seasons."
"Do they like peanuts?"
"Do they?  Just try them."
Phil ran to a snack stand at the opposite side of the tent and
bought five cents' worth of peanuts, then hurried back to the
elephants with the package.
"What are their names?"
"The big one is Emperor and the smaller one is called Jupiter,"
answered the keeper, who had already recognized his young
"Are they ever ugly?"
"Never have been.  But you can't tell.  An elephant is liable to
go bad most any time, then you--"
"But how can you tell, or can't you?"
"Most always, unless they are naturally bad."
"How do you know?"
"See that little slit on the cheek up there?"
"Yes," said Phil, peering at the great jowls wonderingly.
"Well, several days before they get in a tantrum you will see a
few tear drops--that's what I call them--oozing from that little
slit. I don't know whether it's water on the brain or what it is.
But when you see the tear drops you want to get from under and
chain Mr. Elephant down as quickly as possible.
"That is strange."
"Very.  But it's a sure sign.  Never knew it to fail, and I've
known some elephants in my time.  But Emperor and Jupiter never
have shed a tear drop since I've known them.  They are not the
crying kind, you know."
The lad nodded understandingly.
"How about the lions and the tigers--can you tell when they are
going to have bad spells?"
"Well," reflected the showman, "it's safe to say that they've
always got a grouch on.  The cats are always--"
"Yes.  All that sort of animals belong to the cat family and
they've got only one ambition in life."
"What's that?"
"To kill somebody or something."
"But their keepers--don't they become fond of their keepers or
The elephant tender laughed without changing the expression of
his face. His laugh was all inside of him, as Phil characterized
"Not they!  They may be afraid of their keeper, but they would as
soon chew him up as anybody else--I guess they would rather, for
they've always got a bone to pick with him."
"Do any of the men go in the cages and make the animals perform
"Oh, yes.  Wallace, the big lion over there, performs every
afternoon and night.  So does the tiger in the cage next to him."
Phil had dumped the bag of peanuts into his hat, which he held
out before him while talking.  Two squirming trunks had been busy
conveying the peanuts to the pink mouths of their owners, so that
by the time Phil happened to remember what he had brought them,
there was not a nut left in the hat.
He glanced up in surprise.
"Emperor, you are a greedy old elephant," laughed Phil, patting
Emperor trumpeted loudly, and the call was immediately taken up
even more loudly by his companion.
"No, you can't have any more," chided Phil.  "You will have
indigestion from what you've already eaten, I'm afraid. Behave,
and I'll bring you some more tonight if I come to the show," he
Two caressing trunks touched his hands, then traveled gently over
his cheeks.  They tickled, but Phil did not flinch.
"You could do most anything with them now, you see," nodded the
keeper.  "They'd follow you home if I would let them."
"Especially if my pockets were full of sweets."
"There's the animal trainer getting ready to go into the lion
cage, if you want to see him," the attendant informed him.
"Yes, I should like to.  And thank you very much for your
"You're welcome.  Come around again."
The boy hurried over to the lion cage.  The people were now
crowding into the menagerie tent in throngs.  There seemed to
Phil to be thousands already there.  But all eyes now being
centered on Wallace's cage, they had no time to observe Phil, for
which he was duly thankful.
The animal trainer, clad in red tights, his breast covered with
spangles, was already at the door of the cage, whip in hand. When
a sufficient crowd had gathered about him, he opened the door,
and, entering the cage threw wide the iron grating that shut
Wallace off from the door end of the wagon.  The big lion bounded
out with a roar that caused the people to crowd back
instinctively.
Then the trainer began putting the savage beast through its
paces, causing it to leap over his whip, jump through paper
hoops, together with innumerable other tricks that caused the
spectators to open their mouths in wonder.  All the time Wallace
kept up a continual snarling, interspersed now and then with a
roar that might have been heard a quarter of a mile away.
This was a part of the exhibition, as Phil shrewdly discovered.
The boy was a natural showman, though unaware of the fact. He
noted all the little fine points of the trainer's work with as
much appreciation as if he had himself been an animal trainer.
"I half believe I should like to try that myself," was his mental
conclusion.  "But I should want to make the experiment on a very
little lion at first.  If I got out with a whole skin I might
want to tackle something bigger.  I wonder if he is going into
the tiger cage?"
As if in answer to his question, an announcer shouted out the
information that the trainer would give an exhibition in the cage
of the tiger just before the evening performance.
"I'll have to see that," muttered Phil.  "Guess I had better get
in and find my seat now."
At the same time the crowd, understanding that the lion
performance was over, began crowding into the circus tent.
The band inside swung off into a sprightly tune and Phil could
scarcely repress the inclination to keep time to it with his
feet. Altogether, things were moving pretty well with Phil
Forrest. They had done so ever since he left home the day before.
In that one day he had had more fun than had come to him in many
But his happy day would soon be ended.  He sighed as he thought
of it. Then his face broke out into a sunny smile as he caught a
glimpse of the ropes and apparatus, seen dimly through the
afternoon haze, in the long circus tent.
As he gained the entrance between the two large tents he saw the
silk curtains at the far end of the circus arena fall apart,
while a troop of gayly caparisoned horses and armored riders
suddenly appeared through the opening.
The grand entry was beginning.
"Gracious, here the show has begun and I am not anywhere near my
seat," he exclaimed.  "But, if I am going to be late I won't be
alone.  There are a whole lot more of us that were too much
interested in the animal trainer to think to come in and get our
seats.  I guess I had better run.  I--"
Phil started to run, but he got no further than the start.
All at once his waist was encircled in a powerful grip and he
felt his feet leaving the ground.  Phil was being raised straight
up into the air by some strange force, the secret of which he did
not understand.
CHAPTER VIII
IN THE SAWDUST ARENA
The lad repressed an inclination to cry out, for the thing that
had encircled his waist and raised him up seemed to be tightening
A familiar voice just behind him served to calm Phil's disquieted
"Don't be frightened, kid.  It's only Emperor having a little
joke. He's a funny fellow," said the elephant's attendant.
Phil had read somewhere that elephants possessed a keen sense of
humor, and now he was sure of it.  But he never thought he would
have an opportunity to have the theory demonstrated on himself.
The elephants were on their way to participate in the grand
entry, and there was not a minute to spare now.  Emperor on his
way into the other tent had come across his new-found friend and
recognized him instantly, while Phil had not even heard the
approach of the elephants.
No sooner had the elephant discovered the lad than he picked him
up with his trunk, slowly hoisting the boy high in the air.
"Steady, Emperor!  Steady!" cautioned the attendant.  But Emperor
needed no admonition to deal gently with his young friend. He
handled Phil with almost the gentleness of a mother lifting a
Phil Forrest experienced a thrill that ran all through him when
he realized what was taking place.
"We can't stop to put you down now, my boy.  You'll have to go
through the performance with us.  Grab the head harness when he
lets you down on his head.  You can sit on the head without
danger, but keep hold of the harness with one hand.  I'll bet
you'll make a hit."
"I will if I fall off," answered Phil a bit unsteadily.
As it was, the unusual motion made him a little giddy.
"That's a good stunt.  Stick to him, Forrest," directed a voice
as they swept on toward the ring.
The voice belonged to Mr. Sparling, the owner of the show.  He
was quick to grasp the value of Phil's predicament--that is, its
value to the show as a drawing card.
By now the people began to understand that something unusual was
going on, and they asked each other what it was all about.
"It's Phil Forrest riding the elephant," shouted one of the lad's
school friends, recognizing him all at once.  "Hooray for Phil!"
There were many of the pupils from his school there, and the
howling and shouting that greeted him made the lad's cheeks burn.
But now, instead of wanting to crawl under something and hide,
Phil felt a thrill of pleasure, of pride in the achievement that
was denied to all the rest of his friends.
The inspiring music of the circus band, too, added to his
exhilaration. He felt like throwing up his hands and shouting.
Suddenly he felt something tugging at his coat pocket, and
glancing down gave a start as he discovered the inquisitive trunk
of Emperor thrust deep down in the pocket.
When the trunk came away it brought with it a lump of sugar that
Phil did not know he possessed.  The sugar was promptly conveyed
to the elephant's mouth, the beast uttering a loud scream of
satisfaction.
"Emperor, you rascal!" laughed Phil, patting the beast on the
Once more the trunk curled up in search of more sugar, but a
stern command from the trainer caused the beast to lower it
quickly. The time for play had passed.  The moment had arrived
for Emperor to do his work and he was not the animal to shirk his
act. In fact, he seemed to delight in it.  All elephants work
better when they have with them some human being or animal on
which they have centered their affections.  Sometimes it is a
little black and tan dog, sometimes a full-grown man.  In this
instance it happened to be a boy, and that boy Phil Forrest.
"Waltz!" commanded the trainer.
If Phil's head had swum before, it spun like a top now.  Round
and round pirouetted the huge beasts, keeping in perfect step
with the music of the band, and tighter and tighter did the lad
grip the head harness of old Emperor.  Phil closed his eyes after
a little because he had grown so dizzy that he feared he would
"Hang on, kid.  It'll be Christmas by and by," comforted the
trainer humorously.
"That's what I am trying to do," answered Phil a bit unsteadily.
"How's your head?"
"Whirling like a merry-go-round."
He heard the trainer chuckling.
The spectators were shouting out Phil's name all over the big
"Fine, fine!" chuckled James Sparling, rubbing his palms
together. "That ought to fill the tent tonight."
The spectators realized, too, that they were being treated to
something not down on the bills and their shouts and laughter
grew louder and louder.
"Do you think you could stand up on his head?" came the voice of
the trainer just loud enough for Phil to hear.
"Me?  Stand on the elephant's head?"
"Yes.  Think you can do it?"
"If I had a net underneath to catch me, maybe I'd try it."
"Emperor won't let you fall.  When I give the word he'll wrap his
trunk around your legs.  That will hold you steady from the waist
down.  If you can keep the rest of yourself from lopping over
you'll be all right.  It'll make a hit--see if it don't."
"I--I'll try it."
"Wait till I give the word, then get up on all fours, but don't
straighten up till you feel the trunk about you.  We'll make a
showman of you before you know it."
"I seem to be the whole show as it is," grumbled Phil.
"You are, just now--you and Emperor.  Good thing the other
performers are not in the ring, or they would all be jealous of
"I wish Uncle Abner could see me now.  Wouldn't he be mad!"
grinned Phil, as the memory of his crabbed relative came back to
him. "He'd come right out after me with his stick, he'd be so
angry.  But I guess Emperor wouldn't let him touch me," decided
the boy proudly, with an affectionate pat to which the elephant
responded with a cough that sounded not unlike the explosion of a
dynamite cartridge.
"All ready now.  Don't be afraid.  Hold each position till I give
you the word to change it."
"Ready," announced the lad.
"Emperor!  Jupiter!"
The twitching of a ponderous ear of each animal told that they
had heard and understood.
Phil had scrambled to all fours.
"Hold him, Emperor!"
The great trunk curled up, ran over the boy's legs and twined
"Up you go, kid!"
Phil raised himself fearlessly, straightened and stood full upon
his feet.  That strong grip on his legs gave him confidence and
told him he had nothing to fear.  All he would have to do would
be to keep his ears open for the trainer's commands both to
himself and the beast, and he would be all right.
He felt himself going up again.
The sensation was something akin to that which Phil had once
experienced when jumping off a haystack.  He felt as if his whole
body were being tickled by straws.
The elephants were rising on their hind legs, uttering shrill
screams and mighty coughs, as if enraged over the humiliation
that was being put upon them.
It seemed to Phil as if Emperor would never stop going up until
the lad's head was against the top of the tent.  He ventured to
What a distance it was!  Phil hastily directed his glances
At last the elephant had risen as high as he could go.  He was
standing almost straight up and down, and on his head the slender
figure of the boy appeared almost unreal to those off on the
Thunders of applause swept over the assemblage.  People rose up
in their seats, the younger ones hurling hats high in the air and
uttering catcalls and shrill whistles, until pandemonium reigned
under the "big top," as the circus tent proper is called by the
"Swing your hat at them!"
The trainer had to shout to make himself heard, and as it was
Phil caught the words as from afar off.
He took off his soft hat and waved it on high, gazing wonderingly
off over the seats.  He could distinguish nothing save a waving,
undulating mass of moving life and color.
It was intoxicating.  And Phil Forrest went suddenly dizzy again.
"I'm losing my head," rebuked the lad.  "If I don't pull myself
together I shall surely fall off.  Then they will have something
to laugh at rather than to applaud."
He took himself firmly in hand.  But the applause did not abate
"Watch out, we're going down," warned the trainer.
The elephant trainer's command came out like the crack of a
ringmaster's whip.
Slowly the great beasts lowered themselves toward the sawdust
"Stoop over and grab the harness!"
Phil did so.
"Sit!  Let go, Emperor!"
The trunk was released instantly and Phil plumped to the beast's
head once more, amid the wildest applause.
The band swung into another tune, which was the signal for the
next act to be brought on.  At the same time the ringmaster blew
a shrill blast on his whistle.
The trainer left the ring with his charges by an exit that he
seldom departed through.  But he did so in order to leave Phil
near the place where his seats were, first having ascertained
where these were located.
"Put him down, Emperor!  Down, I say!"
Emperor reached up an unwilling trunk, grasped Phil about the
waist and stood him on the ground.  At the trainer's command the
beast released his hold of his friend and as the hook was gently
pressed against his side to hurry him, Emperor started
reluctantly away.
Phil, with flushed face, a happy look in his eyes, had turned to
run up the aisle to his seats, when, with a loud trumpeting,
Emperor wheeled, and breaking away from his trainer, swept down
toward the spot where he had left Phil Forrest.
The movement almost threw those in that section into a panic.
Women screamed, believing the animal had suddenly gone crazy,
while men sprang to their feet.
Phil had turned at the first alarm, and, observing what was
taking place, with rare presence of mind trotted down to the
arena again.
He reached there about the same time that Emperor did.
With a shrill scream Emperor threw his long trunk about the lad,
and before Phil had time to catch his breath, he had been hurled
to the elephant's back.
Uttering loud trumpetings the great elephant started on a swift
shamble for his quarters, giving not the slightest heed to his
trainer's commands to halt.
GETTING HIS FIRST CALL
"Let him go.  Emperor won't hurt me," laughed Phil as soon as he
could get his breath, for he was moving along at a pace which
would have meant a tumble to the ground had the elephant not
supported the lad with its trunk.
The audience soon seeing that no harm had come to the boy, set up
another roar, which was still loud in Phil's ears when Emperor
set his burden down after reaching the elephant quarters in the
menagerie tent.
"You're a bad boy.  Get down, sir, and let me off," chided Phil.
The elephant, to his surprise, cautiously let himself down to his
knees, his trunk at the same time reaching out surreptitiously
for a wisp of fresh grass.
Phil slipped off, laughing heartily.  He had lost all fear of the
great, hulking beast.
"Don't punish him, please," begged the boy when the keeper came
hurrying along with Jupiter.  "But if you will make him let me
alone, I'll go in the other tent.  I want to see the circus."
"Wait a moment.  I'll chain him up."
The keeper soon had Emperor fast.  Then after a final
affectionate petting Phil ran lightly to the other tent and
quickly made his way to his seat.  The people were so engrossed
in the acts in the ring that they did not observe the boy
particularly this time.
"Did I make a show of myself, Mrs. Cahill?" questioned the lad,
with sparkling eyes.
"You did not.  You were as handsome as a picture.  There isn't
one of all those people that looks so handsome or so manly as--"
"Please, please, Mrs. Cahill!" begged the lad, blushing
violently. "Have you seen anything of my friend Teddy?  I had
forgotten all about him."
"That looks like him down there."
"There, leaning against that pole," she pointed.
Phil gazed in the direction indicated, and there, sure enough,
was Teddy Tucker leaning carelessly against the center pole.  He
had no right to be there, as Phil well knew, and he watched with
amused interest for the moment when the other boy's presence
would be discovered.
It came shortly afterwards.  All at once the ringmaster fixed a
cold eye on Teddy.
Teddy gave no heed to him.
"Get out of there!  Think you own this show?"
The lad made believe that he did not hear.
The ringmaster's long whip lash curled through the air, going off
with a crack that sounded as if a pistol had been fired, and
within an inch of Teddy's nose.
Teddy sprang back, slapping a hand to his face, believing that he
had been hit.  Then there followed a series of disconcerting
snaps all around his head as the long lash began to work, but so
skillfully was it wielded that the end of it did not touch him.
But Teddy had had enough.  He turned and ran for the seats.
"Come up here," cried Phil, laughing immoderately.  "Here's a
seat right beside us and there won't be any ringmaster to bother
Considerably crestfallen, the lad climbed up to where Phil and
Mrs. Cahill were sitting.
"You mustn't go down there, you know, Teddy.  They don't allow
outsiders in the ring while the performance is going on. Someone
might get hurt--"
"They let you in," bristled Teddy.
"That was different.  They couldn't help themselves, and neither
could I.  Emperor took me in whether I would or not; and, in
fact, I didn't know I was going till I was halfway there."
Phil's companion surveyed him with admiration.
"My, but you did cut a figure up on that elephant's head!  I
should have been afraid."
"There was nothing to be afraid of.  But let's watch the
performance. There's a trapeze act going on now."
For a few moments the lads watched the graceful bodies of the
performers slipping through the air.  One would swing out from
his perch, flying straight into the arms of his fellow-performer
who was hanging head down from another swinging bar.  On the
return sweep the first performer would catch his own bar and
return to his perch.
"Looks easy.  I'll bet I could do that," nodded Teddy.
Phil shook his head.
"Not so easy as it looks."
"How much do you suppose they get--think they must get as much as
a dollar and a half a day for doing that?  I'd do it for a
dollar, if I could," averred the irrepressible Teddy Tucker.
"They get a good many more dollars than that, Teddy.  I've heard
that some of them get all of twenty-five or thirty dollars a
Phil's companion whistled.
The next act was a bareback riding exhibition, by a pretty,
graceful young woman whom the ringmaster introduced as
Mademoiselle Mora.
At the crack of the whip she sprang lightly to the back of the
gray old ring horse and began a series of feats that made the
boys sit forward in their seats.
At the conclusion of the act Mademoiselle Mora ran out to the
edge of the ring, and blowing a kiss at the blushing Phil,
tripped away on fairy feet for the dressing tent.
"Did you see her?  She bowed to me?" exclaimed Teddy
enthusiastically.
"Guess she didn't see you at all, young man," replied Mrs. Cahill
dryly.  "There's others in the tent besides you, even if the
ringmaster did crack his whip in your face and just miss your
A clown came out and sang a song about a boy who had rescued a
beautiful young woman from a runaway horse and got kidnaped by an
elephant.  The song made a hit, for most of the audience
understood that it referred to Phil Forrest.
And so the performance went on, with a glitter and a crash, a
haze of yellow dust hanging like a golden cloud in the afternoon
sun, over spectators and performers alike.
"Hello, there's Rod!" exclaimed Teddy.
"Rod.  The red-haired kid we saw this morning, only his hair is
black now.  He's covered up his own looks so he won't set the
tent on fire."
"Oh, you mean Rodney Palmer?  Yes, I guess that is he."
"See, they're pulling him up on a rope.  I wonder where he is
"To those flying rings," explained Phil.  "And there is a young
woman going up, too."
One after another was pulled up, until a troupe of four had
ascended and swung off to the rings that were suspended far up
there in the haze.
Both Phil and Teddy were more than ordinarily interested in this
act, for they were no mean performers on the rings themselves. In
the schoolyard an apparatus had been rigged with flying rings,
and on this the boys had practiced untiringly during the spring
months, until they had both become quite proficient.
"Isn't he great?" breathed Teddy, as Rodney Palmer swung out into
the air, letting his legs slip through the rings until only his
toes were hanging to the slender support.
"Yes; he certainly does do it fine."
"We can do it just as well."
"Perhaps, but not so gracefully."
"See, he's swinging his hand at us."
Sure enough, Rodney had picked out the two lads, and was smiling
at them and waving a hand in their direction.  The two lads felt
very proud of this, knowing as they did that they were the envy
of every boy of their acquaintance within sight of them.
The climax of the act was when the young woman seemed to plunge
straight down toward the ground.
The women in the audience uttered sharp little cries of alarm.
But the performer was not falling.  Strong slender ropes had been
fastened to her heels, the other ends being held by one of the
performers who was hanging from the rings.
As a result the falling girl's flight was checked just before she
reached the ground and the spectators breathed a sigh of profound
"My, that was great!  I wouldn't want to do that."
"No, you're too heavy, Teddy.  That's why they have a girl do it.
She is slender and light--"
"I'd be light headed."
"Guess, I would, too," laughed Phil.
At this juncture an attendant came running up the steps, halting
before the lads.
"Are you Phil Forrest?" he asked.
"The boss wants to see you."
"Mr. Sparling?  All right.  I wanted to see the rest of the show,
but I'll go."  Phil rose reluctantly and followed the guide.
"I'll meet you by the ticket wagon if I don't get back here,
Teddy," he said.
PHIL GETS A SURPRISE
"Where will I find Mr. Sparling?"
"In the doghouse."
"Where's that?"
"Out back of the ticket wagon.  It's a little A tent, and we call
it the boss's doghouse, because it's only big enough to hold a
couple of St. Bernards."
"Oh!  What does he want of me?"
"Ask him," grinned the attendant, who, it developed, was an usher
in the reserved-seat section.  "He don't tell us fellows his
business. Say, that was a great stunt you did with Emperor."
"Oh, I don't know."
"I do.  There's the doghouse over there.  See it?"
"Yes, thank you."
The attendant leaving him, Phil walked on alone to Mr. Sparling's
private office, for such was the use to which he put the little
tent that the usher had called the "doghouse."
"I wonder what he can want of me?" mused Phil.  "Probably he
wants to thank me for stopping that pony.  I hope he doesn't.  I
don't like to be thanked.  And it wasn't much of anything that I
did anyway.  Maybe he's going to--but what's the use of
The lad stepped up to the tent, the flaps of which were closed.
He stretched out his hand to knock, then grinned sheepishly.
"I forgot you couldn't knock at a tent door.  I wonder how
visitors announce themselves, anyway."
His toe, at that moment, chanced to touch the tent pole and that
gave him an idea.  Phil tapped against the pole with his foot.
"Come in!" bellowed the voice of the owner of the show.
Phil entered, hat in hand.  At the moment the owner was busily
engaged with a pile of bills for merchandise recently purchased
at the local stores, and he neither looked up nor spoke.
Phil stood quietly waiting, noting amusedly the stern scowl that
appeared to be part of Mr. Sparling's natural expression.
"Well, what do you want?" he demanded, with disconcerting
"I--I was told that you had sent for me, that you wanted to see
me," began the lad, with a show of diffidence.
"So I did, so I did."
The showman hitched his camp chair about so he could get a better
look at his visitor.  He studied Phil from head to foot with his
usual scowl.
"On the ground, sir?"
"Ground?  No, of course not.  Where's that chair?  Oh, my lazy
tent man didn't open it.  I'll fire him the first place we get to
where he won't be likely to starve to death.  I hear you've been
trying to put my show out of business."
"I wasn't aware of it, sir," replied Phil, looking squarely at
his questioner.  "Perhaps I was not wholly blameless in attaching
myself to Emperor."
"Huh!" grunted Mr. Sparling, but whether or not it was a grunt of
disapproval, Phil could not determine.
"So you're not living at home?"
"I have no home now, sir."
"Just so, just so.  Brought up in refined surroundings, parents
dead, crabbed old uncle turned you out of doors for reasons best
known to himself--"
Phil was amazed.
"You seem to know all about me, sir."
"Of course.  It's my business to know something about everything.
I ought to thank you for getting Mrs. Sparling out of that mix-up
this morning, but I'll let her do that for herself.  She wants to
see you after the performance."
"I don't like to be thanked, Mr. Sparling, though I should like
to know Mrs. Sparling," said Phil boldly.
"Neither do I, neither do I.  Emperor has gone daffy over you.
What did you feed him?"
"Some sugar and peanuts.  That was all."
"Huh!  You ought to be a showman."
"I have always wanted to be, Mr. Sparling."
"Oh, you have, eh?"
"Well, why don't you?"
"I have never had the opportunity."
"You mean you've never looked for an opportunity.  There are
always opportunities for everything, but we have to go after
them. You've been going after them today for the first time, and
you've nailed one of them clear up to the splice of the center
pole. Understand?"
"Not entirely, sir."
"Well, do you want to join out with the Great Sparling Combined
Shows, or don't you?"
"You mean--I join the--the--"
Mr. Sparling was observing him narrowly.
"I said, would you like to join our show?"
"I should like it better than anything else in the world."
"Sign this contract, then," snapped the showman, thrusting a
paper toward Phil Forrest, at the same time dipping a pen in the
ink bottle and handing it to him.
"You will allow me to read it first, will you not?"
"Good!  That's the way I like to hear a boy talk.  Shows he's got
some sense besides what he's learned in books at some--well,
never mind."
"What--what is this, ten dollars a week?" gasped Phil, scarcely
able to believe his eyes as he looked at the paper.
"That's what the contract says, doesn't it?"
"Then, that's what it is.  Traveling expenses and feed included.
You are an easy keeper?"
"Well, I don't eat quite as much as a horse, if that's what you
mean," laughed Phil.
After reading the contract through, the lad affixed his signature
to it with trembling hand.  It was almost too good to be true.
"Thank you, sir," he said, laying the paper before Mr. Sparling.
"And now, my lad," added the showman more mildly, "let me give
you some advice.  Some folks look upon circus people as rough and
intemperate.  That day's past.  When a man gets bad habits he's
of no further use in the circus business.  He closes mighty
quick.  Remember that."
"Yes, sir.  You need not worry about my getting into any such
"I don't, or I wouldn't take you.  And another thing: Don't get
it into your head, as a good many show people do, that you know
more about running the business than the boss does.  He might not
agree with you.  It's a bad thing to disagree with the boss, eh?"
"I understand, sir."
"You'd better."
"What do you want me to do?  I don't know what I can do to earn
that salary, but I am willing to work at whatever you may put me
"That's the talk.  I was waiting for you to come to that.  But
leave the matter to me.  You'll have a lot of things to do, after
you get your bearings and I find out what you can do best.  As it
is, you have earned your salary for the first season whether you
do anything else or not.  You saved the big cat and you probably
saved my wife's life, but we'll let that pass.  When can you join
"I'm ready now, sir.  I shall want to go home and get my things
and my books."
"Huh!  That's right.  Take your time.  We shan't be pulling out
of here till after midnight, so you'd better go home and get
ready. You'll want to bid good-bye to Mrs. Ca--Ca--Cahill."
"I wonder if there is anything that he doesn't know about,"
marveled Phil.
"Anything you want to ask me about--any favor you'd like? If
there is, get it out."
"Well, yes, there is, but I scarcely feel like asking it, you
have been so kind to me."
"I--I have a little friend, who--who, like myself, has no parents
and is crazy over the circus.  He wants to be a circus man just
as much as I do.  If you had a place--if you could find something
for him to do, I should appreciate it very much."
"Who is he, that youngster with the clown face, who crawled in
under the tent this afternoon?"
Phil laughed outright.
"I presume so.  That's the way he usually gets in."
"Where is he now?"
"Seeing the performance, sir."
"Nail him when he comes out.  We'll give him all the show he
With profuse thanks Phil Forrest backed from the tent and walked
rapidly toward the entrance.  It seemed to him as if he were
walking on air.
"Let that boy through.  He's with the show now," bellowed Mr.
Sparling, poking his head from the doghouse tent.
The gateman nodded.
"How soon will the performance be over?" inquired Phil,
approaching the gateman.
"Ten minutes now."
"Then, I guess I won't go in.  I promised to meet Teddy over by
the ticket wagon anyway."
But Phil could not stand still.  Thrusting his hands in his
pockets he began pacing back and forth, pondering deeply.  He did
not observe the shrewd eyes of Mr. Sparling fixed upon him from
behind the flap of the little tent.
"At last, at last!" mused Phil.  "I'm a real live showman at
last, but what kind of a showman I don't know.  Probably they'll
make me help put up the tents and take them down.  But, I don't
care. I'll do anything.  And think of the money I'll earn.  Ten
dollars a week!" he exclaimed, pausing and glancing up at the
fluttering flags waving from center and quarter poles.  "Why,
it's a fortune! I shall be able to save most all of it, too.  Oh,
I'm so happy!"
"They're coming out," called the gateman to him.
"Thank you."
Phil's face was full of repressed excitement when Teddy came
slouching up to him.
"Bully show," announced the lad.  "Didn't know which way to look,
there was so much to be seen."
"How would you like to join the show and be a real circus man?"
demanded Phil.
"Maybe I can fix it for you."
"Don't give me such a shock, Phil.  You said it almost as if you
"And I did."
Teddy gazed at his companion for a full minute.
"Something's been going on, I guess--something that I don't seem
to know anything about."
"There has, Teddy.  I'm already a showman.  You come with me. Mr.
Sparling wants to speak with you.  Don't be afraid of him. He
talks as if he was mad all the time, but I'm sure he isn't."
Grasping Teddy by the arm Phil rushed him into Mr. Sparling's
tent, entering this time without knocking.
"This is my friend whom I spoke to you about," announced Phil,
thrusting Teddy up before the showman.
Mr. Sparling eyed the lad suspiciously.
"Want to join out, too, eh?"
"I--I'd like to," stammered Teddy.
"Do your parents approve of your going with a show?"
"I--I don't know, sir."
"You'd better find out, then.  Ask them mighty quick.  This is no
camp meeting outfit that plays week stands."
" 'Cause they're dead."
"Huh!  Why didn't you say so before?"
"You didn't ask me."
"You're too smart, young man."
"Takes a smart man to be a circus man, doesn't it?"
"I guess you're right at that," answered the showman, his stern
features relaxing into a smile.  "You'll do.  But you'd better
not hand out that line of sharp talk in bunches when you get with
the show.  It might get you into trouble if you did."
"Yes, sir; I'll be good."
"Now, you boys had better run along and make your preparations.
You may take your supper in the cook tent tonight if you wish.
But you will have to be on hand promptly, as they take down the
cook tent first of all."
"Thank you; we will," answered Phil.
"What act--what do I perform?" questioned Teddy, swelling with
"Ho, ho, ho!"
"I'm going to be a performer and wear pink pants, ain't I?"
"A performer?  Oh, that's too good.  Yes, my son, you shall be a
performer.  How would you like to be a juggler?"
"Then, I think I'll let you juggle the big coffeepot in the cook
tent for the edification of the hungry roustabouts," grinned Mr.
"What do I do?"
"Do, young man--do?"
"Why, you stand by the coffee boiler in the cook tent, and when
you hear a waiter bawl 'Draw one,' at the same time throwing a
pitcher at you from halfway across the tent, you catch the
pitcher and have it filled and ready for him by the time he gets
"Do I throw the pitcherful of coffee back at him?" questioned
Teddy innocently.
"You might, but you wouldn't be apt to try it a second time.
You'd be likely to get a resounding slap from the flat of his
"I'd hit him on the nose if he did," declared Teddy
belligerently.
Mr. Sparling could not resist laughing.
"That's not the way to begin.  But you will learn.  Follow your
friend Phil, here, and you will be all right if I am any judge of
boys.  I ought to be, for I have boys of my own.  You'd better be
The two lads started off at a brisk pace.  Phil to tell Mrs.
Cahill of his good fortune.  Teddy to bid good-bye to the people
with whom he had been living as chore boy.
THE FIRST NIGHT WITH THE SHOW
"Teddy, you and I are a pair of lucky boys.  Do you know it?"
Each, with his bag of belongings, was on his way to the circus
lot, the boys having bid good-bye to their friends in the
The people with whom Teddy lived had given a reluctant consent to
his going with the circus, after he had explained that Phil
Forrest had gotten him the place and that Phil himself was going
to join the show.  The lad told them he was going to make a lot
of money and that someday he would pay them for all they had done
for him. And he kept his word faithfully.
"Maybe.  I reckon Barnum & Bailey will be wanting us first thing
we know," answered Teddy.
"We shall be lucky if we hold on to the job we have already. Did
Mr. Sparling say what he would pay you?"
"No, he didn't think of that--at least I didn't.  Did he tell you
how much you were going to get?"
Phil nodded.
"I don't think I had better say," answered the lad doubtfully.
"If you ask him and he tells you, of course that will be all
right. I shall be glad to do so then.  It isn't that I don't want
you to know, you understand, but it might be better business,
just now, to say nothing about it," added Phil, with a wisdom far
beyond his years.
"Dark secret, eh?" jeered Teddy Tucker.
"No; there's no secret about it.  It is just plain business,
that's all."
"Business!  Huh!  Who ever heard of a circus being business?"
"You'll find business enough when you get in, Teddy Tucker."
"Don't believe it.  It's just good fun and that's all."
They had reached the circus lot by this time and were now making
their way to Mr. Sparling's tent.
"We have come to report, sir," announced Phil, entering the tent
with Teddy close behind him.  "We are ready for work."
There was a proud ring in Phil Forrest's voice as he made the
announcement.
"Very well, boys.  Hand your baggage over to the man at the
baggage wagon.  If there is anything in either of your grips that
you will want during the night you had better get it out, for you
will be unable to get into the wagon after the show is on the
road. That's one of the early wagons to move, too."
"I guess there is nothing except our tooth brushes and combs that
we shall need.  We have those in our pockets."
"Better take a couple of towels along as well."
"Yes, sir; thank you."
"The cook tent is open.  Go over and have your suppers now. Wait
a moment, I'll go with you.  They might not let you in. You see,
they don't know you there yet."
Mr. Sparling, after closing and locking his trunk, escorted the
lads to the cook tent, where he introduced both to the manager of
that department.
"Give them seats at the performers' table for tonight," he
directed. "They will be with the show from now on.  Mr. Forrest
here will remain at that table, but the other, the Tucker boy, I
shall probably turn over to you for a coffee boy."
The manager nodded good naturedly, taking quick mental measure of
the two lads.
The boys were directed to their seats, which they took, almost as
if in a dream.  It was a new and unfamiliar experience to them.
The odor of the food, the sweet scents from the green grass
underneath their feet, all so familiar to the showman, gave Phil
and Teddy appetites that even a canvasman might have envied.
The performers glanced at them curiously, some of the former
nodding to Phil, having recognized in him the boy who had ridden
the elephant into the arena in the grand entry.
"Not so much after all, are they?" grunted Teddy.
"They are all human beings like ourselves, I guess," replied
Stripped of their gaudy costumes and paint, the performers looked
just like other normal beings.  But instead of talking about the
show and their work, they were discussing the news of the day,
and it seemed to the two lads to be more like a large family at
supper than a crowd of circus performers.
Rodney Palmer nodded good naturedly to them from further up the
long table, but they had no more than time to nod back when a
waiter approached to take their orders.  Teddy ordered pretty
much everything on the bill, while Phil was more modest in his
"Don't eat everything they have," he warned laughingly.
"Plenty more where this came from.  That's one good thing about a
"What's that?"
"If the food gives out they can eat the animals."
"Better look out that the animals don't make a meal of you."
"Joining out?" asked the man sitting next to Phil.
"I don't know yet what I am to do.  Mr. Sparling is giving me a
chance to find out what I am good for, if anything," smiled Phil.
"Boss is all right," nodded the circus man.  "That was a good
stunt you did this afternoon.  Why don't you work that up?"
"I--I'll think about it."  Phil did not know exactly what was
meant by the expression, but it set him to thinking, and out of
the suggestion he was destined to "work up" something that was
really worthwhile, and that was to give him his first real start
in the circus world.
"What's that funny-looking fellow over there doing?" interrupted
"That man down near the end of the table?"
"That's Billy Thorpe, the Armless Wonder," the performer informed
"And he hasn't any hands?" wondered the boy.
"Naturally not, not having any arms.  He uses his feet for
"What's he doing now?"
"Eating with his feet.  He can use them almost as handily as you
can your hands.  You should see Billy sew, and write and do other
things.  Why, they say he writes the best foot of anybody in the
"Doesn't he ever get cold feet?" questioned Teddy humorously.
"Circus people are not afflicted with that ailment.  Doesn't go
well with their business."
"May I ask what you do?" inquired Phil.
"I am the catcher in the principal trapeze act.  You may have
seen me today.  I think you were in the big top then."
"Oh, yes, I saw you this afternoon."
"How many people are with the show?" asked Teddy.
"At a rough guess, I should say a hundred and fifty including
canvasmen and other labor help.  It's a pretty big organization
for a road show, the biggest in the country; but it's small, so
small it would be lost if one of the big railroad shows was
"Is that another armless or footless wonder next to Billy
Thorpe?" asked Teddy.
"It's a freak, yes, but with hands and feet.  That's the living
skeleton, but if he keeps on eating the way he's been doing
lately the boss will have to change the bills and bill him as the
fattest man on earth."
"Huh!" grunted Teddy.  "He could crawl through a rat hole in a
barn door now.  He's thin enough to cut cheese with."
Phil gave his companion a vigorous nudge under the table.
"You'll get into trouble if you are so free in expressing your
opinions," he whispered.  "Don't forget the advice Mr. Sparling
"Apple or custard pie?" broke in the voice of the waiter.
"Custard," answered Phil.
"Both for mine," added Teddy.
He got what he had ordered and without the least question, for
the Sparling show believed that the best way to make its people
contented was to feed them.
Mr. Sparling and his assistants, Phil observed, occupied a table
by themselves.  After he had finished the owner motioned to him
to join them, and there Mrs. Sparling made a place for him by her
side and thanked him briefly but warmly for his brave act.
"I shall have to keep an eye on you two boys," she smiled. "Any
time I can help you with advice or otherwise you come right to
me.  Don't you be backward about doing so, will you?"
Phil assured her that he would not.
The two lads after some further conversation strolled from the
"I think I'll go in and see how the animals are getting along,"
decided Phil, beginning to realize that he was free to go where
he would and without fear of being ordered off.
Already people were gathering in front of the entrance for the
night performance.  The doors were advertised to open at seven
o'clock, so that the spectators might have plenty of time in
which to view the collection of "rare and wonderful beasts,
gathered from the remote places of the earth," as the announcer
proclaimed from the vantage point of a dry goods box.
Phil bought a bag of peanuts and took them in to his friend
Emperor, the beast uttering a shrill cry of joy when he saw Phil
approaching.
"I'll try to teach him my whistle," said the boy, puckering his
lips and giving the signal that the boys of his school used in
summoning each other.
"Think he'll remember that, Mr. Kennedy?" he asked of the
"Never forget it, will you, Emperor?"
The elephant coughed.
"Never forgets anything.  Knows more than any man in the show
now, because he has lived longer."
"How old is he?"
"Close to a hundred."
"You don't say?" marveled Teddy.  "Hope I'll be able to squeal as
loud as that when I'm a hundred.  Has he got a hole through his
"Not that anybody knows of."
"Come on; I want to see the fellow tame the tiger.  I missed that
today, because he didn't do it at the afternoon show."
They found Mr. Sparling standing in front of the cage.  He, too,
was there to watch the performance.
"This looks to me like ready money," he observed to Phil, nodding
his head toward the people who were crowding into the tent.
"Mr. Forrest, will you ride Emperor in again tonight?  I think
that's one of the reasons they have come here," said the showman,
shrewdly grasping the least thing that would tend to popularize
"Certainly, sir.  I shall enjoy it very much."
They now turned their attention to the cage where the trainer had
begun with the savage tiger.
"Bengal is in an ugly temper about something tonight," announced
Mr. Sparling in a low tone.  "Better be careful, Bob," he
cautioned, after having stepped up close to the cage.
"I'll take care of him," answered the trainer, without taking his
eyes from the beast for the fraction of a second.
Phil had heard the dialogue and now drew closer to the cage,
stepping under the rope and joining Mr. Sparling.
Teddy, of course, not to be left behind, crawled under the rope
"Sit down in front," shouted someone.  "We can't see the animals
In a moment the spectators saw a play that was not down on the
Bob was swinging the whip over Bengal's nose, the cruel lash
cutting the tender snout with every blow.  But he was not doing
it from sheer cruelty, as many of the spectators who raised their
voices in loud protest imagined.
Not understanding wild animals as the trainer did, they did not
realize that this plucky fellow was fighting for his life, even
though he used but a slender rawhide in his effort to do so.
Bengal was crowding him.  The least mistake on the trainer's part
now and the savage tiger would put a quick and terrible end to
"Stand back, everybody!  Bring the prods!" bellowed Mr. Sparling.
Phil understood that something was wrong, though he never would
have guessed it from the calm expression on the trainer's face.
Not a word did the performer speak, but his hand rained blows on
the nose, while snarl after snarl was spit from between Bengal's
gleaming teeth.
The trainer was edging slowly toward the door.  He knew that
nothing could be done with the beast in its present state of
terrible temper.
His only hope was that at a favorable moment, when the attendants
came with their long, iron bars, he might be able to spring from
the door at his back, which he was trying to reach.
Phil's mind was working like an automatic machine.  He saw now
what the trainer was attempting to do, and was seeking for some
means of helping the man.  But what could a slender boy hope to
do against the power of a great, savage brute like Bengal?
Phil concluded there was nothing.
A pistol flashed almost in the face of the two lads.  Mr.
Sparling had started away on a run to fetch the attendants who
either had not heard or failed to heed his call.
"What did he do that f-f-for?" stammered Teddy.
"To drive the tiger back.  It was a blank cartridge that he
fired. I think the tiger is going to attack him.  Yes, there he
goes! Oh, that's _terrible!_"
The trainer had been forced against the bars at the back of the
cage by the animal, whose length was more than the width of the
cage itself.
In an unsuspected moment the beast had sprung upon the
unfortunate man, and with one sweep of his powerful paw had laid
the man low.
With a growl of savage joy, the brute settled back against the
bars of the cage near which the lads were standing.
Women shrieked and men grew pale as they stood helpless to do
aught to avert the impending tragedy.
Teddy slipped out from under the rope, his face ashen gray.  But
Phil stood his ground.  He felt that he _must_ do something.
Then his opportunity came.  The beast's great silken tail popped
out through the bars against which he was backing.
Phil Forrest, without an instant's thought of the danger into
which he was placing himself, sprang forward.
His hands closed over the tail, which he twisted about his right
arm in a flash, at the same time throwing up his feet and bracing
them against a wheel of the wagon.
No sooner had he done so than Bengal, uttering a frightful roar,
whirled.  The force of the jerk as the brute turned hurled Phil
Forrest against the bars of the cage with a crash, and Bengal's
sharp-clawed feet made a vicious sweep for the body of the lad
pressed so tightly against the bars.
A THRILLING RESCUE
"Open the door and let the man out!" shouted Phil, with great
presence of mind.  But no one seemed to have the power to move.
One sweep of the powerful claw and one side of the lad's clothes
was literally stripped from him, though he had managed to shrink
back just far enough to save himself from the needle like claws
of the tiger.
At this moment men came rushing from other parts of the tent.
Some bore iron rods, while two or three carried tent poles and
sticks--anything that the circus men could lay their hands upon.
Mr. Sparling was in the lead of the procession that dashed
through the crowd, hurling the people right and left as they ran.
With every spring of the tiger Phil was being thrown against the
bars with terrific force, but still he clung to the tail that was
wrapped about his arm, hanging on with desperate courage.
Though the lad was getting severe punishment, he was
accomplishing just what he had hoped for--to keep Bengal busy
until help arrived to liberate the unconscious trainer, who lay
huddled against the bars on the opposite side of the cage.
"Poke one of the tent poles in to him and let him bite it!"
roared Mr. Sparling.  "Half a dozen of you get around behind the
cage and when we have his attention one of you pull Bob out.
Keep your poles in the opening when you open the door, so Bengal
doesn't jump out.  Everybody stand back!"
The commands of the showman came out like so many explosions of a
pistol.  But it had its effect.  His men sprang to their work
like machines.
In the meantime Mr. Sparling himself had grabbed the tail of the
beast, taking a hold higher up than Phil's.
"Pull the boy off.  He's hanging on like a bull dog.  If you had
half his sense you'd have put a stop to this mix-up minutes ago."
Teddy by this time had gotten in under the ropes again, and,
grasping his companion about the waist, he held on until he had
untwisted the tiger's tail from his companion's arm and released
Phil, staggering back with his burden against the rope.
Phil's limp body, the moment Teddy let go of him, collapsed in a
The circus men were too busy at the moment to notice him.  One of
the men had thrust a short tent pole between the bars.  Bengal
was upon it like an avalanche.
Biting, clawing, uttering fierce growls, he tore the hard wood
into shreds, the man at the other end poking at the beast with
all his might.
Cautiously the rear door of the cage was opened.  Two men grasped
Bob by the shoulders and hauled him out with a quick pull.
The crowd shouted in approval.
"All out!  Let go!" shouted Mr. Sparling.
It took the strength of two men to pull the tent pole from
Bengal's grip.  The instant he lost the pole the beast whirled
and pounced upon the spot where he had left his victim.
Finding that he had lost his prey, the savage beast uttered roar
upon roar, that made every spectator in the tent tremble and draw
back, fearing the animal would break through the bars and attack
"Where's that boy?"
"Here he is, and I guess he's hurt," answered Teddy.
"Give him to me.  I'll get him outside where we can get some
decent air into him.  Is he much hurt?"
"I--I don't know."
The showman grabbed Phil, and as a helper lifted the bottom of
the tent's side wall, Mr. Sparling ran to his own small tent with
the unconscious Phil.
"Fetch a pail of water."
Teddy ran for the cook tent to get the water.  He was amazed to
find no cook tent there.  Instead, there remained only the open
plot of grass, trampled down, with a litter of papers and refuse
scattered about.
By the time he had dashed back to the tent to inquire where he
could find a pail, one of the showmen had brought some water and
Mr. Sparling was bathing Phil's face with it.
He had made a hasty examination of the unconscious boy's wounds,
which he did not believe were serious.
Phil soon came to, and by that time the show's doctor had
arrived, having been in attendance on the wounded animal trainer.
"No; he'll be sore for a few days, but there's nothing dangerous
about those scratches, I should say.  I'll dress the wounds and
he can go on about his business," was the surgeon's verdict.
"I've got to ride Emperor in tonight," objected Phil.
"You'll do nothing of the sort.  You'll get into my wagon and go
to bed.  That's what you will do, and right quick, at that."
"But," urged the lad, "the people will all think I am seriously
hurt if they see no more of me.  Don't you think it would be a
good plan for me to show myself?  They are liable to be uneasy
all through the performance.  If I show myself they will settle
down and forget all about it in a few minutes."
Mr. Sparling turned to his assistant with a significant nod.
"I told you that boy was a natural born showman.  You can't stop
that kind with a club.  Can you stand up alone?"
Phil scrambled to his feet, steadying himself with a hand on the
"I'll be all right after I walk about a bit.  How long before the
elephants go in?"
"You've got fifteen minutes yet."
"Then I may go on?"
"Yes, yes, go on.  You'll never be satisfied if you don't.  But I
ought to take you over my knee and give you a sound walloping."
"Thank you.  How is Mr.--Mr.--the trainer?"
"He isn't badly hurt, thanks to your presence of mind, young
man," answered the surgeon.
"That makes two people you've saved today, Forrest," emphasized
Mr. Sparling.  "We will call that a day's work.  You have earned
your meal ticket.  Better run back to the dressing tent and ask
them to fix up some clothes for you.  Ask for Mrs. Waite, the
wardrobe woman.  Teddy Tucker, you run in and tell Mr. Kennedy,
who has charge of the elephants, that Phil will ride tonight, and
to wait until he gets in."
Both boys hurried away on their respective missions.  All that
Mrs. Waite had that would come anywhere near fitting Phil was a
yellow robe that looked like a night gown.  Phil grinned as he
tucked it under his arm and hurried back to the menagerie tent.
As he passed through the "big top" he saw that it was filling up
"I guess we are going to have a good house tonight," muttered the
lad with a pleased smile.  It did not occur to him that he
himself was responsible for a large part of the attendance--that
the part he had played in the exciting incidents of the day had
done more to advertise the Great Sparling Combined Shows than any
other one factor.
"I am all ready, Mr. Kennedy," announced Phil, running to the
elephant quarters.  The horns were blowing the signal for the
grand entry, so the lad grasped the head harness, as Emperor
stooped, and was quickly hoisted to the position in which he
would enter the ring.
When the people saw that it was indeed Phil they set up a great
shout.  The lad was pale but resolute.  As he went through the
performance, his wounds smarted frightfully.  At times the pain
made him dizzy.
But Phil smiled bravely, waving his hands to the cheering people.
After the finish of the act Mr. Kennedy headed the elephants into
the concourse, the open space between the rings and the seats,
making a complete circuit of the tent, so that all might see Phil
"This is a kind of farewell appearance, you know," grinned
Kennedy. And so the audience took it.
The lad's former companions shouted all manner of things to him.
"Good-bye, Phil!"
"Don't stick your head in the lion's mouth."
"Be careful when you twist the tiger's tail.  Better put some
salt on it before you do."
"We'll look out for Uncle Abner."
Phil was grinning broadly as he rode back into the menagerie
tent. Everybody in town now knew that he had joined the circus,
which brought forth a variety of comments.  Some said it would be
the end of the boy, but Phil Forrest knew that a boy could behave
himself with a circus just as well as in any other occupation,
and so far as his observations went, the circus people were much
better than some folks he knew at home.
No sooner had they gotten into the menagerie tent than a sudden
bustle and excitement were apparent.  Confused shouts were heard
on all sides.  Teams, fully harnessed, were being led into the
tent, quarter-poles were coming down without regard to where they
struck, everybody appearing to have gone suddenly crazy.
"They're striking the tent," nodded Mr. Kennedy, noting the boy's
wonderment.  "You had better look out for yourself. Don't stand
in the way or you may get hurt," he warned.
"Get the bulls out!" called a man, hurrying by.
"They're getting," answered Kennedy.
"What do they mean by that?"
"In circus parlance, the 'bulls' are the elephants.  Where you
going to ride tonight?"
"I don't know.  Hello, there's my friend Teddy.  I guess I had
better attach myself to him or he may get lost."
As a matter of fact, Phil was not sure where he was himself,
activities were following each other with such surprising
But the lads stuck to their ground until it was no longer safe to
do so.  Phil was determined to see all there was to be seen, and
what he saw he remembered.  He had no need to be told after that,
providing he understood the meaning of a certain thing at first.
Observing that one man was holding to the peak rope, and that it
was rapidly getting the best of him, both lads sprang to his
"That's right, boys.  That's the way to do it.  Always be ready
to take advantage of every opening.  You'll learn faster that
way, and you'll both be full-fledged showmen before you know it."
"O Mr. Sparling," exclaimed Phil, after others had relieved them
on the rope.
"Yes?  What is it?"
"I have been wanting to see you, to ask what you wish us to do
tonight--where we are to travel?"
"You may sleep in my wagon.  I'll take a horse for tonight."
"I could not think of doing such a thing.  No, Mr. Sparling, if I
am to be a circus man, I want to do just as the rest of them do.
Where do the other performers sleep?"
"Wherever they can find places.  Some few of the higher paid ones
have berths in wagons.  Others sleep in the band wagon.  The
rest, I guess, don't sleep at all, except after we get into a
town. The menagerie outfit will be leaving town very soon now.
You may go through with them if you wish."
"If you do not object, I think I should prefer to remain until
the rest of the show goes out."
"Suit yourself."
Mr. Sparling understood how the lads felt, and perhaps it would
be better to let them break in at once, he reasoned.  They would
become seasoned much sooner.
The tent was taken down and packed away in the wagons in an
almost incredibly short time.
"Come on; let's go into the circus tent and see what's going on
there," suggested Teddy.
Phil agreed, and the lads strolled in.  They found the
performance nearly over.  When it was finished quite a large
number remained to see the "grand concert" that followed.
While this was going on there was a crash and a clatter as the
men ripped up and loaded the seats, piling them into waiting
wagons that had been driven into the tent from the rear so as not
to be in the way of the people going out.
"It's more fun to watch the men work than it is to see the
concert. That concert's a bum show," averred Teddy, thrusting his
hands in his pockets and turning his back on the "grand concert."
"I agree with you," laughed Phil.  "There's nothing but the
freaks there, and we'll see them, after this, every time we go
for our meals."
"Have you been in the dressing tent yet?" asked Teddy.
"No, I haven't had time.  We'll have to look in there tomorrow,
though I don't think they care about having people visit them
unless they belong there.  Just now we don't.  Do you start work
in the cook tent tomorrow?"
"Yes.  I am to be the champion coffee drawer.  I expect they will
have my picture on the billboards after a little.  Wouldn't I
look funny with a pitcher of hot, steaming coffee in my hand
leaping over a table in the cook tent?" and Teddy laughed
heartily at the thought.  "I'll bet I'd make a hit."
"You mean you would get hit."
"Well, maybe."
The boys hung about until the big top had disappeared from the
lot. The tent poles and boxes of properties were being loaded on
the wagons, while out on the field, the ring horses, performing
ponies and the like stood sleeping, waiting for the moment when
they should be aroused for the start.
"Come on, Teddy; let's you and I go make up our beds."
"Where are they?"
"We'll have to ask the porter," laughed Phil, who had traveled a
little with his parents years before.
"It's a shame that that old tiger has to have a cage all to
himself. We could make up a fine bed if we had half of his cage
and some blankets," complained Teddy.
"Thank you.  I should prefer to walk.  I have had all the
argument I want with that beast.  Let's go try the band wagon."
"All right; that would be fine to sleep way up there."
Laughing and chattering, the lads hunted about on the lot until
they found the great glittering band wagon.  Being now covered
with canvas to protect it from the weather, they had difficulty
in making it out, but finally they discovered it, off near the
road that ran by the grounds.  Four horses were hitched to it,
while the driver lay asleep on the high seat.
"Where will we get in?"
"I don't know, Teddy; we will climb up and find out."
Getting on the rear wheel they pulled themselves up, and finding
the canvas covering loose, threw it open.  Teddy plumped in feet
Immediately there followed such a howling, such a snarling and
torrent of invective that, startled as he was, Phil lost his
balance on the wheel and fell off.
No sooner had he struck the ground than a dark figure came
shooting from above, landing on him and nearly knocking all the
breath out of his body.
Phil threw off the burden, which upon investigation proved to be
Teddy Tucker.
"Wha--what happened?" stammered Phil.  "Sounds as if we had
gotten into a wild animal cage."
"I--I walked on somebody's face and he threw me out," answered
Teddy ruefully.  Phil leaned against the wagon wheel and laughed
until his throat ached.
"Get out of here!  What do you mean?" bellowed an angry voice
over their heads.  "Think my face is a tight rope to be walked on
by every Rube that comes along?"
"Come--come on away, Teddy.  We made a mistake.  We got into the
wrong berth."
"Here's another wagon, Phil.  They're just hitching the horses.
Let's try this."
"All right, it's a canvas wagon.  Go ahead, we'll try it."
"I've tried one wagon.  It's your turn now," growled Teddy.
"I guess you're right.  If I get thrown out you catch me the same
as I did you," laughed Phil.
"Yes, you _caught_ me, didn't you?"
Phil climbed up, but with more caution than Teddy had exercised
in the case of the band wagon.
"Anybody living in this bedroom tonight?" questioned Phil of the
"Guess you are.  First come first served.  Pile in.  You're the
kid that rode the bull, ain't you?"
"And twisted the tiger's tail," added Teddy.
"All right.  Probably some others will be along later, but I'll
see to it that they don't throw you out."
"Thank you.  Come on up, Teddy; it's all right."
Teddy Tucker hastily scrambled up into the wagon which proved to
be a canvas wagon--an open wagon, over which a canvas cover was
stretched in case of storm only.
"Where's the bed clothes?" demanded Teddy.
"I guess the skies will have to be our quilts tonight," answered
The boys succeeded in crawling down between the folds of the
canvas, however, and, snuggling close together, settled down for
their first night on the road with a circus.  Soon the wagons
began to move in response to a chorus of hoarse shouts. The
motion of the canvas wagon very soon lulled the lads to sleep, as
the big wagon show slowly started away and disappeared in the
soft summer night.
CHAPTER XIII
THE DAWNING OF A NEW DAY
"Hi!  Stop the train!  Stop the train!" howled Teddy, as he
landed flat on his back on the hard ground.
"Here, here!  What are you fellows doing?" shouted Phil,
scrambling to his feet.
"I dreamed I was in a train of cars and they ran off the track,"
said Teddy, struggling to his feet and rubbing his shins
gingerly. "Did you do that?"
"You bet.  Think I can wait for you kids to take your beauty
sleep? Don't you suppose this show's got something else to do
besides furnish sleeping accommodations for lazy kids?  Take hold
here, and help us get this canvas out if you want any breakfast."
"Take it out yourself," growled Teddy, dodging the flat of the
canvasman's hand.
The lads had been hurled from their sleeping place by a rough
tentman in a hurry to get at his work.  The chill of the early
dawn was in the air.  The boys stood, with shoulders hunched
forward, shivering, their teeth chattering, not knowing where
they were and caring still less.  They knew only that they were
most uncomfortable.  The glamor was gone.  They were face to face
with the hardships of the calling they had chosen, though they
did not know that it was only a beginning of those hardships.
"B-r-r-r!" shivered Teddy.
"T-h-h-h-at's what I say," chattered Phil.
"Say, are you kids going to get busy, or do you want me to help
Phil did not object to work, but he did not like the way the
canvasman spoke to them.
"I guess you'll have to do your own work.  Come on, Teddy; let's
take a run and warm ourselves up."
Hand in hand the lads started off across the field.  The field
was so dark that they could scarcely distinguish objects about
them. Here and there they dodged wagons and teams that stood like
silent sentinels in the uncertain light.
"Turn a little, Teddy.  We'll be lost before we know it, if we
don't watch out--"
"Ouch!  We're lost already!"
The ground seemed suddenly to give way beneath them.  Both lads
were precipitated into a stream of water that stretched across
one end of the circus lot.
Shouting and struggling about they finally floundered to the
bank, drenched from head to foot.  If they had been shivering
before, they were suffering from violent attacks of ague now.
"Whew!  I'm freezing to death!" cried Phil.
"I feel like the North Pole on Christmas morning," added Teddy.
"I wish I was home, so I could thaw out behind the kitchen
"Brace up, Teddy.  This is only the beginning of the fun.  We
shall have worse experiences than this, late in the fall, when
the weather gets cool; that is, if they do not get enough of us
in the meantime and send us away."
"I--I wish they would send us home now."
"Come now; we've got to run again.  We shall surely take our
death of cold, if we stand here much longer."
"Run?  No, thank you.  I've had one run."
"And you don't want another?  Is that it?"
"Don't know as I blame you.  Well, if you don't want to run, just
stand in one place and jump up and down.  Whip your hands, and
you'll see how soon it will start your blood to circulating,"
advised Phil, who immediately proceeded to put his own theory
into execution.  "That feel better?"
"Yes, some," replied Teddy, rather doubtfully.  "But I could be
warmer. I wonder what time the cook tent will be up."
"That's an idea.  Suppose we go over and find out?"
"Yes, but where is it?"
"I don't know.  But we won't find it if we stand here."
They started off again, this time exercising more caution as to
where their feet touched.  They had not gone far before they came
upon some men who were driving small stakes in the ground,
marking out the spot where one of the tents was to be pitched.
"Can you tell us where the cook tent is going up?" asked Phil
"North side of the field," grunted the man, not very
good-naturedly.
"Which way is north?"
"Get a compass, get a compass," was the discourteous answer.
"He's a grouch.  Come along," urged Teddy Tucker.
A few moments later, attracted by a light that looked like a
fire, the lads hurried toward it.
"Where will we find the cook tent?" questioned Phil again.
"Right here," was the surprising answer.
"What time will it be ready?"
"About seven o'clock.  What's the matter, hungry?"
"More cold than hungry," replied Phil, his teeth chattering.
"Got to get used to that.  Come here.  I've got something that
will doctor you up in no time," announced the man in a cheerful
voice, so different from the answers the lads had received to
their questions that morning, that they were suddenly imbued with
new courage.
"What is it?" asked Phil.
"Coffee, my lad.  We always make coffee the first thing when we
get in, these chilly mornings.  The men work much better after
getting something warm inside them.  Got a cup?"
They had not.
"Wait, I'll get you one," said the accommodating showman.
Never had anything tasted so good as did the coffee that morning.
It was excellent coffee, too, and the boys drank two cups apiece.
"We mustn't drink any more," warned Phil.
"Why not?" wondered Teddy.
"Because we shall be so nervous that we shall not be able to work
today.  And, by the way, were I in your place, I should get busy
here and help in the cook tent until you are told to do something
else.  I think it will make a good impression on Mr. Sparling."
Teddy consented rather grudgingly.
"I'll turn in and do something at the same time.  What can we do
to help you, sir?  That coffee was very good."
"Might get busy and unpack some dishes from those barrels. Be
careful that you don't break any of them."
"All right.  Where shall we put them?"
"Pile them on the ground, all the dishes of the same size
together. Be sure to set a lantern by them so nobody falls over
them in the dark."
The boys, glad of some task to perform, began their work with a
will.  With something to do it was surprising how quickly they
forgot their misfortunes.  In a short time they were laughing and
joking with the good-natured cooktent man and making the dishes
fairly fly out of the barrels.
"Guess I'll have to keep you two boys with my outfit," grinned
the showman.
"I think Mr. Sparling said my friend, Teddy here, was to work in
the cook tent for the present."
"All right, Mr. Teddy.  There's one thing about working in the
cook tent that ought to please you."
"What's that?"
"You can piece between meals all you want to.  If you are like
most boys, you ought to have a good healthy appetite all the
time, except when you are sleeping."
"That's right.  I could eat an elephant steak now--right this
minute.  How long before breakfast?"
"Seven o'clock, I told you."
"What time does Mr. Sparling get up?" inquired Phil.
"Up?  Ask me what time he goes to bed.  I can answer one question
as well as the other.  Nobody knows.  He's always around when you
least expect him.  There he is now."
The owner was striding toward the cook tent for his morning cup
"Good morning, sir," greeted the boys, pausing in their work long
enough to touch their hats, after which they continued unpacking
"Morning, boys.  I see you are up early and getting right at it.
That's right.  No showman was ever made out of a sleepy-head.
Where did you sleep last night?"
"In a wagon on a pile of canvas," answered Phil.
"And they threw us out of bed this morning," Teddy informed him,
with a grimace.
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"And we fell in a creek," added Teddy.
"Well, well, you certainly are having your share of experiences."
"Will you allow me to make a suggestion, Mr. Sparling?" asked
"Of course.  You need not ask that question.  What is it?"
"I think I ought to have some sort of a costume if I am to
continue to ride Emperor in the grand entry."
"H-m-m-m.  What kind do you think you want?"
"Could I wear tights?"
Mr. Sparling was about to laugh, but one glance into the earnest
eyes of Phil Forrest told him that the boy's interest was wholly
in wishing to improve the act--not for the sake of showing
himself, alone.
"Yes, I think perhaps it might not be a bad idea.  You go tell
Mrs. Waite to fix you up with a suit.  But I would prefer to have
you wear your own clothes today."
"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."
"I'll tell you why.  I telegraphed on to my advance man all about
you last night, and what you did yesterday will be spread all
over town here today.  It will be a rattling good advertisement.
You and the tiger are my best drawing cards today," smiled Mr.
"Glad I have proved of some use to you, sir."
"Use?  Use?"
"Don't be a fool!" exploded the showman, almost brutally.
Phil's countenance fell.
"Don't you understand, yet, that you already have been worth
several thousand dollars to me?"
"Well, don't get a swelled head about it, for--"
"There is no danger of that, sir."
"And you don't have to potter around the cook tent working,
either. That is, not unless you want to."
"But, I do, Mr. Sparling.  I want to learn everything there is to
be learned about the show business," protested Phil.
Mr. Sparling regarded him quizzically.
"You'll do," he said, turning away.
As soon as the dressing tent had been erected and the baggage was
moved in, Phil hurried to the entrance of the women's dressing
tent and calling for Mrs. Waite, told her what was wanted.
She measured his figure with her eyes, and nodded
understandingly.
"Think I've got something that will fit you.  A young fellow who
worked on the trapeze fell off and broke a leg.  He was just
about your size, and I guess his tights will be about right for
you. Not superstitious, are you?"
Phil assured her he was not.
"You will be, after you have been in the show business a while.
Wait, I'll get them."
Phil's eyes glowed as he saw her returning with a suit of bright
red tights, trunk and shirt to match.
"Oh, thank you ever so much."
"You're welcome.  Have you a trunk to keep your stuff in?"
"No; I have only a bag."
"I've got a trunk in here that's not in use.  If you want to drag
it over to the men's dressing tent you're welcome to it."
Phil soon had the trunk, which he hauled across the open paddock
to the place where the men were settling their belongings. He
espied Mr. Miaco, the head clown.
"Does it make any difference where I place my trunk, Mr. Miaco?"
"It does, my lad.  The performers' trunks occupy exactly the same
position every day during the show year.  I'll pick out a place
for you, and every morning when you come in you will find your
baggage there.  Let me see.  I guess we'll place you up at the
end, next to the side wall of the dressing room.  You will be
more by yourself there.  You'll like that, won't you?"
"Going in in costume, today?"
"No, sir.  Mr. Sparling thought I had better wear my own clothes
today, for advertising purposes."
Miaco nodded understandingly.
"Then you'll want to fix up again.  Been in the gutter?"
"I fell into a ditch in the darkness this morning," grinned Phil.
"You'll get used to that.  Mr. Ducro, the ringmaster, carries a
lantern with him so he won't fall in, but none of the rest of us
do. We call him Old Diogenes because he always has a lantern in
his hand. If you'll take off that suit I'll put it in shape for
"Undress--here?"
"Sure.  You'll have to get used to that."
Phil retired to the further end of the tent where his trunk had
been placed in the meantime, and there took off his clothes,
handing them to the head clown.  Mr. Miaco tossed the lad a bath
robe, for the morning was still chilly.
"After you get broken in you will have to do all this for
yourself. There's nothing like the show business to teach a
fellow to depend upon himself.  He soon becomes a
jack-of-all-trades.  As soon as you can you'll want to get
yourself a rubber coat and a pair of rubber boots.  We'll get
some beastly weather by-and-by."
The good-natured clown ran on with much good advice while he was
sponging and pressing Phil's clothes.  When he had finished, the
suit looked as if it had just come from a tailor shop.
Phil thanked him warmly.
"Now, you and I will see about some breakfast."
Reaching the cook tent, the first person Phil set eyes on was his
chum, Teddy Tucker.  Teddy was presiding over the big nickel
coffeepot, his face flushed with importance.  He was bossing the
grinning waiters, none of whom found it in his heart to get
impatient with the new boy.
AN UNEXPECTED HIT
"Another turn-away," decided a ticket taker, casting his eyes
over the crowds that had gathered for the afternoon performance.
"I guess Mr. Sparling knows his business pretty well," mused
Phil. "He knows how to catch the crowd.  I wonder how many of
them have come here to see me.  How they would look and stare if
they knew I was the kid that twisted the tiger's tail."
Phil's color rose.
It was something for a boy who had been a circus performer for
less than two days to have his name heralded ahead of the show as
one of the leading attractions.
But Phil Forrest had a level head.  He did not delude himself
with any extravagant idea of his own importance.  He knew that
what he had done was purely the result of accident.
"I'll do something, someday, that will be worthwhile," he told
Phil's act that afternoon was fully as successful as it had been
on the previous day back in his home town.  Besides, he now had
more confidence in himself.  He felt that in a very short time he
might be able to keep his feet on the elephant's head without the
support of Emperor's trunk.  That would be an achievement.
On this particular afternoon he rode with as much confidence as
if he had been doing it all the season.
"You'll make a performer," encouraged Kennedy.  "You've got the
poise and everything necessary to make you a good one."
"What kind, do you think?"
"Any old kind.  Do you get dizzy when up in the air?"
"I don't remember that I have ever been up much further than
Emperor hoists me," laughed Phil.
For the next two minutes the man and the boy were too busy with
their act to continue their conversation.  The audience was
enthusiastic, and they shouted out Phil Forrest's name several
times, which made him smile happily.
"What would you advise me to do, Mr. Kennedy?" he asked as the
elephants started to leave the ring, amid the plaudits of the
"Ever try the rings?"
"Yes, but not so high up as those that Rod and his partners
perform on."
"Height doesn't make much difference.  Get them to let the rings
down so you can reach them, then each day raise them a little
higher, if you find you can work on them."
"Thank you.  Perhaps I'll try it this afternoon.  I am anxious to
be a real performer.  Anybody could do this.  Though it's easy, I
think I might work up this act of ours to make it rather funny."
It will be observed that Phil was rapidly falling into the
vernacular of the showman.
"If you've got any ideas we'll thresh them out.  Emperor will be
willing.  He'll say yes to anything you suggest.  What is it?"
"Don't you think Mr. Sparling would object?"
"Not he.  Wait till I get the bulls chained; then we'll talk."
After attending to his charges, Mr. Kennedy and Phil stepped
behind the elephants and sat down on a pile of straw against the
side walls of the menagerie tent.
Phil confided at length what he had in mind, Kennedy nodding from
time to time as Phil made points that met with the trainer's
"Boy, you've got a head on you a yard wide.  You'll make your
everlasting fortune.  Why, I'd never even thought of that
"Don't you think I had better speak to Mr. Sparling?"
Kennedy reflected for a moment.
"Perhaps you had better do so.  But you needn't tell him what it
is. We'll give them a surprise.  Let's go see the property man
and the carpenter.  We'll find out what they can do for us."
Slipping out under the canvas, the two hurried back to the
property room, an enclosure where all the costumes were kept,
together with the armor used in the grand entry, and the other
trappings employed in the show, known as properties.
Mr. Kennedy explained to the property man what was wanted. The
latter called in the carpenter.  After consulting for a few
minutes, they decided that they could give the elephant trainer
and his assistant what they sought.
"When will you have it ready?"
"Maybe in time for tonight's performance, but I can't promise for
"Thank you," exclaimed Phil, hurrying away to consult with Mr.
"I have been thinking out a plan to work up my part of the
elephant act," announced Phil, much to the owner's surprise.
"You have, eh?"
"What is it?"
"I was in hopes you wouldn't ask me that.  I wanted to surprise
Mr. Sparling shook his head doubtfully.
"I'm afraid you haven't had experience enough to warrant my
trusting so important a matter to you," answered the showman,
knowing how serious a bungled act might be, and how it would be
likely to weaken the whole show.
Phil's face showed his disappointment.
"Mr. Kennedy says it will be a fine act.  I have seen the
property man and the carpenter, and they both think it's great.
They are getting my properties ready now."
"So, so?" wondered the owner, raising his eyebrows ever so
little. "You seem to be making progress, young man.  Let's see,
how long have you been in the show business?" he reflected.
"Twenty-four hours," answered Phil promptly.
Mr. Sparling grinned.
"M-m-m-m.  You're certainly getting on fast.  Who told you you
might give orders to my property man and my carpenter, sir?" the
proprietor demanded, somewhat sternly.
"I took that upon myself, sir.  I'm sure it would improve the
act, even though I have not had as much experience as I might
have. Will you let me try it?" demanded the boy boldly.
"I'll think about it.  Yes, I'll think about it.  H-m-m-m!
Thus encouraged, Phil left his employer, going in to watch some
of the other acts.
About that time Mr. Sparling found it convenient to make a trip
back to the property man's room, where he had quite a long talk
with that functionary.  The proprietor came away smiling and
About an hour later Phil sauntered out and passed in front of Mr.
Sparling's tent, hoping the showman would see him and call him
Phil was not disappointed.  Mr. Sparling did that very thing.
"How's that new act of yours coming along, young man?" he
"I have done no more than think it over since talking with you a
little while ago.  If the props are ready Mr. Kennedy and I will
have a quiet rehearsal this afternoon.  That is, if we can shoo
everybody out of the tent and you are willing we should try it.
How about it, sir?"
"I must say you are a most persistent young man."
"And what if this act falls down flat?  What then?"
"It mustn't."
"But if it does?"
"Then, sir, I'll give up the show business and go back to
Edmeston, where I'll hire out to work on a farm.  If I can't do a
little thing like this I guess the farm will be the best place
Phil was solemn and he meant every word he said.  Mr. Sparling,
however, unable to maintain his serious expression, laughed
"My boy, you are all right.  Go ahead and work up your act.  You
have my full permission to do that in your own way, acting, of
course, under the approval of Mr. Kennedy.  He knows what would
go with his bulls."
"Thank you, thank you very much," exclaimed Phil, impulsively. "I
hope you will be pleasantly surprised."
"I expect to be."
Phil ran as fast as his legs would carry him to convey the good
news to Mr. Kennedy.  Active preparations followed, together with
several hurried trips to the property room.  The property man was
getting along famously with his part of the plan, and both Phil
and Mr. Kennedy approved of what had been done thus far.
According to programme, after the afternoon show had been
finished and all the performers had gone to the cook tent the
rehearsal took place in the menagerie tent.  Faithful to his
promise, Mr. Sparling kept away, but a pair of eyes representing
him was peering through a pin-hole in the canvas stretched across
the main opening where the ticket takers stood when at work.
"That's great, kid!  Great, you bet!" shouted Mr. Kennedy after a
successful trial of their new apparatus.
With light heart, an expansive grin overspreading his
countenance, the lad ran to the cook tent for his supper.  He
came near missing it as it was, for the cook was about to close
the tent. Mr. Sparling, who was standing near the exit, nodded to
the chief steward to give Phil and Mr. Kennedy their suppers.
"Well, did the rehearsal fall down?" he asked, with a quizzical
smile on his face.
"It fell down, but not in the way you think," laughed Phil
No further questions were asked of him.
That night, when the grand entry opened the show to a packed
house, a shout of laughter from the great assemblage greeted the
entrance of old Emperor.  Emperor was clad in a calico gown of
ancient style, with a market basket tucked in the curl of his
trunk.  But the most humorous part of the long-suffering
elephant's makeup was his head gear.
There, perched jauntily to one side was the most wonderful bonnet
that any of the vast audience ever had gazed upon.  It was tied
with bright red ribbons under Emperor's chops with a collection
of vari-colored, bobbing roses protruding from its top.
Altogether it was a very wonderful piece of head gear.
The further the act proceeded the more the humor of Emperor's
makeup appeared to impress the audience.  They laughed and
laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks, while the elephant
himself, appearing to share in the humor of the hour, never
before had indulged in so many funny antics.
Mr. Kennedy, familiar with side-splitting exhibitions, forgot
himself so far as actually to laugh out loud.
But where was Phil Forrest?  Thus far everybody had been too much
interested in the old lady with the trunk and the market basket
to give a thought to the missing boy, though some of the
performers found themselves wondering if he had closed with the
show already.
Those of the performers not otherwise engaged at the moment were
assembled inside the big top at one side of the bandstand, fairly
holding their sides with laughter over old Emperor's exhibition.
Standing back in the shadow of the seats, where the rays from the
gasoline lamps did not reach, stood Mr. Sparling, a pleased smile
on his face, his eyes twinkling with merriment.  It was a good
act that could draw from James Sparling these signs of approval.
The act was nearing its close.
The audience thought they had seen the best of it.  But there was
still a surprise to come--a surprise that they did not even dream
The time was at hand for the elephants to rear in a grand finale.
An attendant quietly led Jupiter from the ring and to his
quarters, Emperor making a circuit of the sawdust arena to cover
the going of the other elephant and that there might be no
cessation of action in the exhibition.
Emperor and his trainer finally halted, standing facing the
reserved seats, as motionless as statues.
The audience sat silent and expectant.  They felt that something
still was before them, but what they had not the least idea, of
"Up, Emperor!" commanded Mr. Kennedy in a quiet voice. "All
ready, Phil."
The elephant reared slowly on its hind legs, going higher and
higher, as it did in its regular performance.
As he went up, the bonnet on Emperor's head was seen to take on
sudden life.  The old calico gown fell away from the huge beast
at the same time, leaving him clothed in a brilliant blanket of
white and gold.
But a long drawn "a-h-h-h," rippled over the packed seats as the
old elephant's bonnet suddenly collapsed.
Out of the ruins rose a slender, supple figure, topping the
pyramid of elephant flesh in a graceful poise.  The figure, clad
in red silk tights, appeared to be that of a beautiful girl.
The audience broke out into a thunder of approval, their feet
drumming on the board seats sounding not unlike the rattle of
The girl's hand was passed around to the back of her waist, where
it lingered for an instant, then both hands were thrown forward
just as a diver does before taking the plunge.
The young girl floated out and off from the elephant's back,
landing gently on her feet just outside the sawdust ring.
Emperor, at this juncture, threw himself forward on his forelegs,
stretched out his trunk, encircling the performer's waist and
lifting her clear off the ground.
At that moment the supposed young woman stripped her blonde wig
from her head, revealing the fact that the supposed girl was no
girl at all.  It was a boy, and that boy was Phil Forrest.
Emperor, holding his young friend at full length ahead of him,
started rapidly for his quarters, Phil lying half on his side,
appearing to be floating on the air, save for the black trunk
that held him securely in its grip.
At this the audience fairly howled in its surprise and delight,
but Phil never varied his pose by a hair's breadth until Emperor
finally set him down, flushed and triumphant, in the menagerie
At that moment Phil became conscious of a figure running toward
He discovered at once that it was Mr. Sparling.
Grasping both the lad's hands, the showman wrung them until it
seemed to Phil as if his arms would be wrenched from their
"Great, great, great!" cried the owner of the show.
"Did you like it?" questioned the blushing Phil.
"Like it?  Like it?  Boy, it's the greatest act I ever saw. It's
a winner.  Come back with me."
"What, into the ring?"
"But what shall I do?"
"You don't have to do anything.  You've done it already. Show
yourself, that's all.  Hurry!  Don't you hear them howling like a
band of Comanche Indians?"
"They want you."
By this time Mr. Sparling was fairly dragging Phil along with
him. As they entered the big top the cheering broke out afresh.
Phil was more disturbed than ever before in his life.  It seemed
as though his legs would collapse under him.
"Buck up!  Buck up!" snapped the showman.  "You are not going to
get an attack of stage fright at this late hour, are you?"
That was exactly what was the matter with Phil Forrest.  He was
nearly scared out of his wits, but he did not realize the nature
of his affliction.
"Bow and kiss your hand to them," admonished the showman.
Phil did so, but his face refused to smile.  He couldn't have
smiled at that moment to save his life.
All at once he wrenched himself loose from Mr. Sparling's grip,
and ran full speed for the dressing tent.  He had not gone more
than a dozen feet before he tripped over a rope, landing on head
and shoulders.  But Phil was up like a rubber man and off again
as if every animal in the menagerie was pursuing him.
The spectators catching the meaning of his flight, stood up in
their seats and howled lustily.
Phil Forrest had made a hit that comes to few men in the sawdust
A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE
"That was a knockout, kid," nodded Mr. Miaco, with emphasis. "I'm
laughing on the inside of me yet.  I don't dare let my face
laugh, for fear the wrinkles will break through my makeup."
"Thank you," smiled Phil, tugging at his silk tights, that fitted
so closely as to cause him considerable trouble in stripping them
"You'll have the whole show jealous of you if you don't watch
out. But don't get a swelled head--"
"Not unless I fall off and bump it," laughed Phil.  "Where do I
"You always want to get a pail of water before you undress."
"Say, Phil, did you really fly?" queried Teddy, who was standing
by eyeing his companion admiringly.
"Sure.  Didn't you see me?"
"I did and I didn't.  Will you show me how to fly like that?"
" 'Course I will.  You come in under the big top tomorrow after
the show and I'll give you a lesson."
Teddy had not happened to observe the simple mechanical
arrangement that had permitted the young circus performer to
carry out his flying act.
"I reckon you ought to get a dollar a day for that stunt,"
decided Teddy.
"Yes, I think so myself," grinned Phil.
Teddy now turned his attention to Mr. Miaco, who, made up for his
clown act in the ring, presented a most grotesque appearance.
"How do I look?" asked the clown, noting the lad's observant
"You look as if you'd stuck your head in a flour barrel," grunted
"Ho ho," laughed the clown.  "I'll have to try that on the
audience. That's a good joke.  To look at you, one wouldn't think
it of you, either."
"Oh, that's nothing.  I can say funnier things than that when I
want to.  Why--"
But their conversation was cut short by the band striking up the
tune to which Mr. Miaco always entered the ring.
"Listen to me, kid.  You'll hear them laugh when I tell 'em the
story," he called back.  And they did.  The audience roared when
the funny man told them what his young friend had said.
His work for the day having been finished, Phil bethought himself
of his trunk, which had not yet been packed.  His costume was
suspended from a line in the dressing tent where many other
costumes were hanging to air and dry after the strenuous labors
of their owners.
Phil took his slender belongings down, shook them out well and
laid them in the trunk that Mrs. Waite had given him.  It was too
late for Phil to get his bag from the baggage wagon, so with a
grin he locked his tights and his wig in the trunk.
"Guess they won't break their backs lifting that outfit," he
Phil then strolled in to watch the show.  He found many new
points of interest and much that was instructive, as he studied
each act attentively and with the keenness of one who had been in
the show business all his life.
"Someday I'll have a show like this myself," nodded the boy. He
did not know that he expressed his thoughts aloud until he
noticed that the people sitting nearest to him were regarding him
with amused smiles.
Phil quickly repressed his audible comments.
The show was soon over; then came the noise and the confusion of
the breaking up.  The illusion was gone--the glamor was a thing
of the past.  The lad strolled about slowly in search of his
companion, whom he eventually found in the dressing tent.
"Teddy, isn't it about time you and I went to bed?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know.  Circus people sleep when there isn't anything
else to do.  Where we going to sleep?"
"Same place, I presume, if no one gets ahead of us."
"They'd better not.  I'll throw them out if they do."
Phil laughed good-naturedly.
"If I remember correctly, somebody was thrown out last night and
this morning, but it didn't happen to be the other fellow. I'm
hungry; wish I had something to eat."
"So am I," agreed Teddy.
"You boys should get a sandwich or so and keep the stuff in your
trunk while we are playing these country towns.  When we get into
the cities, where they have restaurants, you can get a lunch
downtown after you have finished your act and then be back in
time to go out with the wagons," Mr. Miaco informed them.
"You'll pick up these little tricks as we go along, and it won't
be long before you are full-fledged showmen.  You are pretty near
that point already."
The lads strolled out on the lot and began hunting for their
wagon. They found nothing that looked like it for sometime and
had about concluded that the canvas wagon had gone, when they
chanced to come across the driver of the previous night, who
directed them to where they would find it.
"The wagon isn't loaded yet.  You'll have to wait half an hour or
so," he said.
They thanked him and went on in the direction indicated, where
they soon found that which they were in search of.
"I think we had better wait here until it is loaded," advised
Phil, throwing himself down on the ground.
"This having to hunt around over a ten-acre lot for your bedroom
every night isn't as much fun as you would think, is it?" grinned
"Might be worse.  I have an idea we haven't begun to experience
the real hardships of the circus life."  And indeed they had not.
Soon after that the wagon was loaded, and, bidding the driver a
cheery good night, the circus boys tumbled in and crawled under
They were awakened sometime before daylight by a sudden heavy
downpour of rain.  The boys were soaked to the skin, the water
having run in under the canvas until they were lying in a puddle
There was thunder and lightning.  Phil scrambled out first and
glanced up at the driver, who, clothed in oilskins, was huddled
on his seat fast asleep.  He did not seem to be aware that there
was anything unusual about the weather.
"I wish I was home," growled Teddy.
"Well, I don't.  Bad as it is, it's better than some other things
that I know of.  I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll get rubber
coats for us both when we get in in the morning."
"Got the money?"
"That's so.  I had forgotten that," laughed Phil.  "I never
thought that I should need money to buy a coat with.  We'll have
to wait until payday.  I wonder when that is?"
"Ask Mr. Sparling."
"No; I would rather not."
"All right; get wet then."
"I am.  I couldn't be any more so were I to jump in the mill pond
at home," laughed Phil.
Home!  It seemed a long way off to these two friendless, or at
least homeless, boys, though the little village of Edmeston was
less than thirty miles away.
The show did not get in to the next town until sometime after
daylight, owing to the heavy condition of the roads.  The cook
tent was up when they arrived and the lads lost no time in
scrambling from the wagon.  They did not have to be thrown out
this morning.
"Come on," shouted Phil, making a run for the protection of the
cook tent, for the rain was coming down in sheets.
Teddy was not far behind.
"I'm the coffee boy.  Where's the coffee?" he shouted.
"Have it in a few minutes," answered the attendant who had been
so kind to them the previous morning.  "Here, you boys, get over
by the steam boiler there and dry out your clothes," he added,
noting that their teeth were chattering.
"Wish somebody would pour a pail of water over me," shivered
"Water?  What for?"
"To wash the rain off.  I'm soaked," he answered humorously.
They huddled around the steam boiler, the warmth from which they
found very comforting in their bedraggled condition.
"I'm steaming like an engine," laughed Phil, taking off his coat
and holding it near the boiler.
"Yes; I've got enough of it in my clothes to run a sawmill,"
agreed Teddy.  "How about that coffee?"
"Here it is."
After helping themselves they felt much better.  Phil, after a
time, walked to the entrance of the cook tent and looked out. The
same bustle and excitement as on the previous two days was
noticeable everywhere, and the men worked as if utterly oblivious
of the fact that the rain was falling in torrents.
"Do we parade today?" called Phil, observing Mr. Sparling
hurrying past wrapped in oilskins and slouch hat.
"This show gives a parade and two performances a day, rain,
shine, snow or earthquake," was the emphatic answer.  "Come over
to my tent in half an hour.  I have something to say to you."
Phil ran across to Mr. Sparling's tent at the expiration of half
an hour, but he was ahead of time evidently, for the showman was
not there.  Nice dry straw had been piled on the ground in the
little tent to take up the moisture, giving it a cosy,
comfortable look inside.
"This wouldn't be a half bad place to sleep," decided Phil,
looking about him.  "I don't suppose we ever play the same town
two nights in succession.  I must find out."
Mr. Sparling bustled in at this point, stripping off his wet
oilskins and hanging them on a hook on the tent pole at the
further end.
"Where'd you sleep?"
"In wagon No. 10."
"We dried out in the cook tent when we got in.  It might have
been worse."
"Easily satisfied, aren't you?"
"I don't know about that.  I expect to meet with some
disagreeable experiences."
"You won't be disappointed.  You'll get all that's coming to you.
It'll make a man of you if you stand it."
"And if I don't?" questioned Phil Forrest, with a smile.
Mr. Sparling answered by a shrug of the shoulders.
"We'll have to make some different arrangements for you," he
added in a slightly milder tone.  "Can't afford to have you get
sick and knock your act out.  It's too important.  I'll fire some
lazy, good-for-nothing performer out of a closed wagon and give
you his place."
"Oh, I should rather not have you do that, sir."
"Who's running this show?" snapped the owner.
Phil made no reply.
"I am.  I'll turn out whom I please and when I please.  I've been
in the business long enough to know when I've got a good thing.
Where's your rubber coat?" he demanded, changing the subject
"I have none, sir.  I shall get an outfit later."
"No money, I suppose?"
"Well, no, sir."
"Humph!  Why didn't you ask for some?"
"I did not like to."
"You're too modest.  If you want a thing go after it.  That's my
motto. Here's ten dollars.  Go downtown and get you a coat, and
be lively about it.  Wait a minute!" as Phil, uttering profuse
thanks, started away to obey his employer's command.
"About that act of yours.  Did you think it out all yourself?"
"The idea was mine.  Of course the property man and Mr. Kennedy
worked it out for me.  I should not have been able to do it
"Humph!  Little they did.  They wouldn't have thought of it in a
thousand years.  Performers usually are too well satisfied with
themselves to think there's anything worthwhile except what
they've been doing since they came out of knickerbockers. How'd
you get the idea?"
"I don't know--it just came to me."
"Then keep on thinking.  That act is worth real money to any
show. How much did I say I'd pay you?"
"Ten dollars a week, sir."
"Humph!  I made a mistake.  I won't give you ten."
Phil looked solemn.
"I'll give you twenty.  I'd give you more, but it might spoil
you. Get out of here and go buy yourself a coat."
HIS FIRST SETBACK
"Tha--thank--"
"Out with you!"
Laughing, his face flushed with pride and satisfaction, Phil did
move. Not even pausing to note what direction he should go, he
hurried on toward the village, perhaps more by instinct than
otherwise.  He was too full of this wonderful thing that had come
to him--success--to take note of his surroundings.
To Phil there was no rain.  Though he already was drenched to the
skin he did not know it.
All at once he pulled himself up sharply.
"Phil Forrest, you are getting excited," he chided.  "Now, don't
you try to make yourself believe you are the whole show, for you
are only a little corner of it.  You are not even a side show.
You are a lucky boy, but you are going to keep your head level
and try to earn your money.  Twenty dollars a week!  Why, it's
wealth!  I can see Uncle Abner shaking his stick when he hears of
it.  I must write to Mrs. Cahill and tell her the good news.
She'll be glad, though I'll warrant the boys at home will be
jealous when they hear about how I am getting on in the world."
Thus talking to himself, Phil plodded on in the storm until he
reached the business part of the town.  There he found a store
and soon had provided himself with a serviceable rubber coat, a
pair of rubber boots and a soft hat.  He put on his purchases,
doing up his shoes and carrying them back under his arm.
The parade started at noon.  It was a dismal affair--that is, so
far as the performers were concerned, and the clowns looked much
more funny than they felt.
Mr. Miaco enlivened the spirits of those on the hayrack by
climbing to the back of one of the horses drawing the clowns'
wagon, where he sat with a doll's parasol over his head and a
doll in his arms singing a lullaby.
The people who were massed along the sidewalks of the main street
did not appear to mind the rain at all.  They were too much
interested in the free show being given for their benefit.
The show people ate dinner with their feet in the mud that day,
the cook tent having been pitched on a barren strip of ground.
"This is where the Armless Wonder has the best of us today,"
nodded Teddy, with his usual keen eye for humor.
"How is that?" questioned Mr. Miaco.
" 'Cause he don't have to put his feet in the mud like the rest
of us do.  He keeps them on the table.  I wish I could put my
feet on the table."
Everybody within hearing laughed heartily.
In the tents there was little to remind one of the dismal
weather, save for the roar of the falling rain on the canvas
overhead. Straw had been piled all about on the ground inside the
two large tents, and only here and there were there any muddy
spots, though the odor of fresh wet grass was everywhere.
The afternoon performance went off without a hitch, though the
performers were somewhat more slow than usual, owing to the
uncertainty of the footing for man and beast.  Phil Forrest's
exhibition was even more successful than it had been in the last
show town.  He was obliged to run back to the ring and show
himself after having been carried from the tent by Emperor. This
time, however, his stage fright had entirely left him, never to
return.  He was now a seasoned showman, after something less than
three days under canvas.
The afternoon show being finished, and supper out of the way,
Phil and Teddy returned to the big top to practice on the flying
rings, which they had obtained permission to use.
Mr. Miaco, himself an all around acrobat, was on hand to watch
their work and to offer suggestions.  He had taken a keen
interest in Phil Forrest, seeing in the lad the making of a
high-class circus performer.
The rings were let down to within about ten feet of the sawdust
ring, and one at a time the two lads were hoisted by the clown
until their fingers grasped the iron rings.
With several violent movements of their bodies they curled their
feet up, slipping them through the rings, first having grasped
the ropes above the rings.
"That was well done.  Quite professional," nodded the clown.
"Take hold of this rope and I will swing you.  If it makes you
dizzy, tell me."
"Don't worry; it won't," laughed Phil.
"Give me a shove, too," urged Teddy.
"In a minute."
Mr. Miaco began swinging Phil backwards and forwards, his speed
ever increasing, and as he went higher and higher, Phil let
himself down, fastening his hands on the rings that he might
assist in the swinging.
"Now, see if you can get back in the rings with your legs."
"That's easy," answered Phil, his breath coming sharp and fast,
for he never had taken such a long sweep in the rings before.
The feat was not quite so easy as he had imagined.  Phil made
three attempts before succeeding.  But he mastered it and came up
"Good," cried the clown, clapping his hands approvingly.
"Give me another swing.  I want to try something else."
Having gained sufficient momentum, the lad, after reaching the
point where the rings would start on their backward flight,
permitted his legs to slip through the rings, catching them with
He swept back, head and arms hanging down, as skillfully as if he
had been doing that very thing right along.
"You'll do," emphasized the clown.  "You will need to put a
little more finish in your work.  I'll give you a lesson in that
Teddy, not to be outdone, went through the same exhibition,
though not quite with the same speed that Phil had shown.
It being the hour when the performers always gathered in the big
top to practice and play, many of them stood about watching the
boys work.  They nodded their heads approvingly when Phil
finished and swung himself to the ground.
Teddy, on his part, overrated his ability when it came to hanging
by his feet.
"Look out!" warned half a dozen performers at once.
He had not turned his left foot into the position where it would
catch and hold in the ring.  Their trained eyes had noted this
omission instantly.
The foot, of course, failed to catch, and Teddy uttered a howl
when he found himself falling.  His fall, however, was checked by
a sharp jolt.  The right foot had caught properly.  As he swept
past the laughing performers he was dangling in the air like a
huge spider, both hands and one foot clawing the air in a
desperate manner.
There was nothing they could do to liberate him from his
uncomfortable position until the momentum of his swing had
lessened sufficiently to enable them to catch him.
"Hold your right steady!" cautioned Miaco.  "If you twist it
you'll take a beauty tumble."
Teddy hadn't thought of that before.  Had Miaco known the lad
better he would not have made the mistake of giving that advice.
Teddy promptly turned his foot.
He shot from the flying rings as if he had been fired from a
Phil tried to catch him, but stumbled and fell over a rope, while
Teddy shot over his head, landing on and diving head first into a
pile of straw that had just been brought in to bed down the tent
for the evening performance.
Nothing of Teddy save his feet was visible.
They hauled him out by those selfsame feet, and, after
disentangling him from the straws that clung to him, were
relieved to find that he had not been hurt in the least.
"I guess we shall have to put a net under you.  Lucky for you
that that pile of straw happened to get in your way.  Do you know
what would have happened to you had it not been?" demanded Mr.
"I--I guess I'd have made a hit," decided Teddy wisely.
"I guess there is no doubt about that."
The performers roared.
"I'm going to try it again."
"No; you've done enough for one day.  You won't be able to hold
up the coffeepot tomorrow morning if you do much more."
"Do you think we will be able to accomplish anything on the
flying rings, Mr. Miaco?" asked Phil after they had returned to
the dressing tent.
"There is no doubt of it.  Were I in your place I should take an
hour's work on them every day.  Besides building you up
generally, it will make you surer and better able to handle
yourself. Then, again, you never know what minute you may be able
to increase your income.  People in this business often profit by
others' misfortunes," added the clown significantly.
"I would prefer not to profit that way," answered Phil.
"You would rather do it by your own efforts?"
"It all amounts to the same thing.  You are liable to be put out
any minute yourself, then somebody else will get your job, if you
are a performer of importance to the show."
"You mean if my act is?"
"That's what I mean."
The old clown and the enthusiastic young showman talked in the
dressing tent until it was time for each to begin making up for
the evening performance.
The dressing tent was the real home of the performers.  They knew
no other.  It was there that they unpacked their trunks--there
that during their brief stay they pinned up against the canvas
walls the pictures of their loved ones, many of whom were far
across the sea. A bit of ribbon here, a faded flower drawn from
the recess of a trunk full of silk and spangles, told of the
tender hearts that were beating beneath those iron-muscled
breasts, and that they were as much human beings as their
brothers in other walks of life.
Much of this Phil understood in a vague way as he watched them
from day to day.  He was beginning to like these big-hearted,
big-muscled fellows, though there were those among them who were
not desirable as friends.
"I guess it's just the same as it is at home," decided Phil.
"Some of the folks are worthwhile, and others are not."
He had summed it up.
Sometime before the evening performance was due to begin Phil was
made up and ready for his act.  As his exhibition came on at the
very beginning he had to be ready early.  Then, again, he was
obliged to walk all the way to the menagerie tent to reach his
Throwing a robe over his shoulders and pulling his hat well down
over his eyes, the lad pushed the silken curtains aside and began
working his way toward the front, beating against the human tide
that had set in against him, wet, dripping, but good natured.
"Going to have a wet night," observed Teddy, whom he met at the
entrance to the menagerie tent.
"Looks that way.  But never mind; I'll share my rubber coat with
you. We can put it over us and sit up to sleep.  That will make a
waterproof tent.  Perhaps we may be able to find a stake or
something to stick up in the middle of the coat."
"But the canvas under us will be soaked," grumbled Teddy. "We'll
be wetter than ever."
"We'll gather some straw and tie it up in a tight bundle to put
under us when we get located.  There goes the band.  I must be
off, or you'll hear Emperor screaming for me."
"He's at it now.  Hear him?"
"I couldn't well help hearing that roar," laughed Phil, starting
off on a run.
The grand entry was made, Phil crouching low in the bonnet on the
big beast's head.  It was an uncomfortable position, but he did
not mind it in the least.  The only thing that troubled Phil was
the fear that the head gear might become disarranged and spoil
the effect of his surprise.  There were many in the tent who had
seen him make his flight at the afternoon performance, and had
returned with their friends almost solely to witness the pretty
spectacle again.
The time had arrived for Emperor to rise for his grand salute to
the audience.  Mr. Kennedy had given Phil his cue, the lad had
braced himself to straighten up suddenly.  A strap had been
attached to the elephant's head harness for Phil to take hold of
to steady himself by when he first straightened up.  Until his
position was erect Emperor could not grasp the boy's legs with
"Right!" came the trainer's command.
The circus boy thrust out his elbows, and the bonnet fell away,
as he rose smiling to face the sea of white, expectant faces
While they were applauding he fastened the flying wire to the
ring in his belt.  The wire, which was suspended from above, was
so small that it was wholly invisible to the spectators, which
heightened the effect of his flight.  So absorbed were the people
in watching the slender figure each time that they failed to
observe an attendant hauling on a rope near the center pole,
which was the secret of Phil's ability to fly.
Throwing his hands out before him the little performer dove
gracefully out into the air.
There was a slight jolt.  Instantly he knew that something was
wrong. The audience, too, instinctively felt that the act was not
ending as it should.
Phil was falling.  He was plunging straight toward the ring, head
first.  He struck heavily, crumpling up in a little heap, then
straightening out, while half a dozen attendants ran to the lad,
hastily picking him up and hurrying to the dressing tent with the
limp, unconscious form.
CHAPTER XVII
"Is he hurt much?"
"Don't know.  Maybe he's broken his neck."
This brief dialogue ensued between two painted clowns hurrying to
their stations.
In the meantime the band struck up a lively air, the clowns
launched into a merry medley of song and jest and in a few
moments the spectators forgot the scene they had just witnessed,
in the noise, the dash and the color.  It would come back to them
later like some long-past dream.
Mr. Kennedy, with grim, set face, uttered a stern command to
Emperor, who for a brief instant had stood irresolute, as if
pondering as to whether he should turn and plunge for the red
silk curtains behind which his little friend had disappeared in
the arms of the attendants.
The trainer's voice won, and Emperor trumpeting loudly, took his
way to his quarters without further protest.
In the dressing tent another scene was being enacted.  On two
drawn-up trunks, over which had been thrown a couple of horse
blankets, they had laid the slender, red-clad figure of Phil
The boy's pale face appeared even more ashen than it really was
under the flickering glare of the gasoline torches.  His head had
been propped up on a saddle, while about him stood a half circle
of solemn-faced performers in various stages of undress and
"Is he badly hurt?" asked one.
"Can't say.  Miaco has gone for the doc.  We'll know pretty soon.
That was a dandy tumble he took."
"How did it happen?"
"Wire broke.  You can't put no faith on a wire with a kink in it.
I nearly got my light put out, out in St. Joe, Missouri, by a
trick like that.  No more swinging wire for me.  Guess the kid,
if he pulls out of this, will want to hang on to a rope after
this. He will if he's wise."
"What's this?  What's this?" roared Mr. Sparling, who, having
heard of the accident, came rushing into the tent.  "Who's hurt?"
"The kid," informed someone.
"What kid?  Can't you fellows talk?  Oh, it's Forrest, is it? How
did it happen?"
One of the performers who had witnessed the accident related what
he had observed.
"Huh!" grunted the showman, stepping up beside Phil and placing a
hand on the boy's heart.
"He's alive, isn't he, Mr. Sparling?"
"Yes.  Anybody gone for the doctor?"
"Miaco has."
"Wonder any of you had sense enough to think of that. I
congratulate you.  Somebody will suffer when I find out who was
responsible for hanging that boy's life on a rotten old piece of
wire.  I presume it's been kicking around this outfit for the
last seven years."
"Here comes the doc," announced a voice.
There was a tense silence in the dressing tent, broken only by
the patter of the rain drops on the canvas roof, while the show's
surgeon was making his examination.
"Well, well!  What about it?" demanded Mr. Sparling impatiently.
The surgeon did not answer at once.  His calm, professional
demeanor was not to be disturbed by the blustering but kind-
hearted showman, and the showman, knowing this from past
experience, relapsed into silence until such time as the surgeon
should conclude to answer him.
"Did he fall on his head?" he questioned, looking up, at the same
time running his fingers over Phil's dark-brown hair.
"Looks that way, doesn't it?"
"I should say so."
"What's the matter with him?"
"I shall be unable to decide definitely for an hour or so yet,
unless he regains consciousness in the meantime.  It may be a
fracture of the skull or a mere concussion."
Mr. Sparling would have said more, but for the fact that the calm
eyes of the surgeon were fixed upon him in a level gaze.
"Any bones broken?"
"No; I think not.  How far did he fall?"
"Fell from Emperor's head when the bull was up in the air. He
must have taken all of a twenty-foot dive, I should say."
"Possible?  It's a great wonder he didn't break his neck.  But he
is very well muscled for a boy of his age.  I don't suppose they
have a hospital in this town?"
"Of course not.  They never have anything in these tank towns.
You ought to know that by this time."
"They have a hotel.  I know for I took dinner there today.  If
you will get a carriage of some sort I think we had better take
"Leave him, you mean?" questioned Mr. Sparling.
"Yes; that will be best.  We can put him in charge of a local
physician here.  He ought to be able to take care of the boy all
"Not by a jug full!" roared Mr. James Sparling.  "We'll do
nothing of the sort."
"It will not be safe to take him with us, Sparling."
"Did I say it would?  Did I?  Of course, he shan't be moved, nor
will he be left to one of these know-nothing sawbones.  You'll
stay here with him yourself, and you'll take care of him if you
know what's good for you.  I'd rather lose most any five men in
this show than that boy there."
The surgeon nodded his approval of the sentiment.  He, too, had
taken quite a fancy to Phil, because of the lad's sunny
disposition and natural brightness.
"Get out the coach some of you fellows.  Have my driver hook up
and drive back into the paddock here, and be mighty quick about
it. Here, doc, is a head of lettuce (roll of money).  If you need
any more, you know where to reach us.  Send me a telegram in the
morning and another tomorrow night.  Keep me posted and pull that
boy out of this scrape or you'll be everlastingly out of a job
with the Sparling Combined Shows.  Understand?"
The surgeon nodded understandingly.  He had heard Mr. Sparling
bluster on other occasions, and it did not make any great
impression upon him.
The carriage was quickly at hand.  Circus people were in the
habit of obeying orders promptly.  A quick drive was made to the
hotel, where the circus boy was quickly undressed and put to bed.
All during the night the surgeon worked faithfully over his
little charge, and just as the first streaks of daylight slanted
through the window and across the white counterpane, Phil opened
For only a moment did they remain open, then closed again.
The surgeon drew a long, deep breath.
"Not a fracture," he announced aloud.  "I'm thankful for that."
He drew the window shades down to shut out the light, as it was
all important that Phil should be kept quiet for a time.  But the
surgeon did not sleep.  He sat keen-eyed by the side of the bed,
now and then noting the pulse of his patient, touching the lad's
cheeks with light fingers.
After a time the fresh morning air, fragrant with the fields and
flowers, drifted in, and the birds in the trees took up their
morning songs.
"I guess the storm must be over," muttered the medical man,
rising softly and peering out from behind the curtain.
The day was dawning bright and beautiful.
"My, it feels good to be in bed!" said a voice from the opposite
side of the room.  "Where am I?"
The surgeon wheeled sharply.
"You are to keep very quiet.  You had a tumble that shook you up
considerably."
"What time is it?" demanded Phil sharply.
"About five o'clock in the morning."
"I must get up; I must get up."
"You will lie perfectly still.  The show will get along without
you today, I guess."
"You don't mean they have gone on and left me?"
"Of course; they couldn't wait for you."
The boys eyes filled with tears.
"I knew it couldn't last.  I knew it."
"See here, do you want to join the show again?"
"Of course, I do."
"Well, then, lie still.  The more quiet you keep the sooner you
will be able to get out.  Try to go to sleep.  I must go
downstairs and send a message to Mr. Sparling, for he is very
much concerned about you."
"Then he will take me back?" asked Phil eagerly.
"Of course he will."
"I'll go to sleep, doctor."
Phil turned over on his side and a moment later was breathing
The doctor tip-toed from the room and hastened down to the hotel
office where he penned the following message:
James Sparling,
   Sparling Combined Shows,
      Boyertown.
   Forrest recovers consciousness.  Not a fracture.  Expect him
to be all right in a few days.  Will stay unless further orders.
     Irvine.
"I think I'll go upstairs and get a bit of a nap myself," decided
the surgeon, after having directed the sleepy clerk to see to it
that the message was dispatched to its destination at once.
He found Phil sleeping soundly.  Throwing himself into a chair
the surgeon, used to getting a catnap whenever and wherever
possible, was soon sleeping as soundly as was his young patient.
Neither awakened until the day was nearly done.
CHAPTER XVIII
A STARTLING DISCOVERY
Phil's recovery was rapid, though four days passed before he was
permitted to leave his bed.  As soon as he was able to get
downstairs and sit out on the front porch of the hotel he found
himself an object of interest as well as curiosity.
The story of his accident had been talked of until it had grown
out of all proportion to the real facts in the case.  The boys of
the village hung over the porch rail and eyed him wonderingly and
admiringly.  It did not fall to their lot every day to get
acquainted with a real circus boy.  They asked him all manner of
questions, which the lad answered gladly, for even though he had
suffered a severe accident, he was not beyond enjoying the
admiration of his fellows.
"It must be great to be a circus boy," marveled one.
"It is until you fall off and crack your head," laughed Phil.
"It's not half so funny then."
After returning to his room that day Phil pondered deeply over
the accident.  He could not understand it.
"Nobody seems to know what really did happen," he mused. "Dr.
Irvine says the wire broke.  That doesn't seem possible."
Off in the little dog tent of the owner of the show, Mr. James
Sparling, on the day following the accident, was asking himself
almost the same questions.
He sent for Mr. Kennedy after having disposed of his early
morning business.  There was a scowl on the owner's face, but it
had not been caused by the telegram which lay on the desk before
him, informing him that Phil was not seriously hurt.  That was a
source of keen satisfaction to the showman, for he felt that he
could not afford to lose the young circus boy.
Teddy was so upset over it, however, that the boss had about made
up his mind to let Phil's companion go back and join him.
While the showman was thinking the matter over, Mr. Kennedy
appeared at the opening of the dog tent.
"Morning," he greeted, which was responded to by a muttered
"Huh!" from James Sparling.
"Come in.  What are you standing out there for?"
Kennedy was so used to this form of salutation that he paid no
further attention to it than to obey the summons.
He entered and stood waiting for his employer to speak.
"I want you to tell me exactly what occurred last night, when
young Forrest got hurt, Kennedy."
"I can't tell you any more about it than you heard last night. He
had started to make his dive before I noticed that anything was
wrong.  He didn't stop until he landed on his head.  They said
the wire snapped."
"I guess so," grinned Kennedy.
"Who is responsible for having picked out that wire?"
"I guess I am."
"And you have the face to stand there and tell me so?"
"I usually tell the truth, don't I?"
"Yes, yes; you do.  That's what I like about you."
"Heard from the kid this morning?"
"Yes; he'll be all right in a few days.  Concussion and general
shaking up; that's all, but it's enough.  How are the bulls this
"Emperor is sour.  Got a regular grouch on."
"Misses that young rascal Phil, I suppose?"
"Didn't want to come through last night at all."
"H-m-m-m.  Guess we'd better fire you and let the boy handle the
bulls; don't you think so?"
The trainer grinned and nodded.
"Kennedy, you've been making your brags that you always tell me
the truth.  I am going to ask you a question, and I want you to
see if you can make that boast good."
Perhaps the trainer understood something of what was in his
employer's mind, for his lips closed sharply while his jaw took
on a belligerent look.
"How did that wire come to break, Kennedy?"
The question came out with a snap, as if the showman already had
made up his mind as to what the answer should be.
"It was cut, sir," answered the trainer promptly.
The lines in Mr. Sparling's face drew hard and tense.  Instead of
a violent outburst of temper, which Kennedy fully expected, the
owner sat silently contemplating his trainer for a full minute.
"Who did it?"
"I couldn't guess."
"I didn't ask you to guess.  I can guess for myself.  I asked who
"I don't know.  I haven't the least idea who would do a job like
that in this show.  I hope the mean hound will take French leave
before I get him spotted, sir."
Mr. Sparling nodded with emphasis.
"I hope so, Kennedy.  What makes you think the wire was cut?"
With great deliberation the trainer drew a small package from his
inside coat pocket, carefully unwrapped it, placing the contents
on the table in front of Mr. Sparling.
"What's this--what's this?"
"That's the wire."
"But there are two pieces here--"
"Yes.  I cut off a few feet on each side of where the break
occurred. Those are the two."
Mr. Sparling regarded them critically.
"How can you tell that the wire has been cut, except where you
cut it yourself?"
"It was cut halfway through with a file, as you can see, sir.
When Forrest threw his weight on it, of course the wire parted at
the weakened point."
"If you will examine it, an inch or two above the cut, you will
find two or three file marks, where the file started to cut, then
was moved down.  Probably slipped.  Looks like it.  Don't you
think I'm right, sir?"
Mr. Sparling nodded reflectively.
"There can be no doubt of it.  You think it was done between the
two performances yesterday?"
"Oh, yes.  That cut wouldn't have held through one performance.
It was cut during the afternoon."
"Who was in the tent between the shows?"
"Pretty much the whole crowd.  But, if you will remember, the day
was dark and stormy.  There was a time late in the afternoon,
before the torches were lighted, when the big top was almost in
darkness.  It's my idea that the job was done then. Anybody could
have done it without being discovered.  It's likely there wasn't
anybody in the tent except himself at the time."
"Kennedy, I want you to find out who did that.  Understand?"
TEDDY DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
"The boss has an awful grouch on."
"Yes; I wonder what's the matter with him," pondered the clown.
His brother fun-maker shrugged his shoulders.
"Guess he's mad because of young Forrest's accident.  Just got a
good act started when he had to go and spoil it."
Not a hint of the suspicion entertained by the owner and his
elephant trainer had been breathed about the show.  Nearly a week
had passed since Phil's narrow escape from death; yet, despite
all the efforts of Kennedy or the shrewd observation of his
employer, they were no nearer a solution of the mystery than
before.  The days passed, and with them the anger of James
Sparling increased.
"That chum of Forrest's is a funny fellow," continued the first
speaker.  "He'd make a good clown?"
"Make?  He's one already.  Look at him."
Teddy was perched on the back of Jumbo, the trick mule of the
show, out in the paddock, where the performers were indulging in
various strange antics for the purpose of limbering themselves up
prior to entering the ring for their acts.
The bright, warm sunlight was streaming down, picking up little
flames from the glistening spangles sprinkled over the costumes
of many of the circus folks.
Teddy and Jumbo had become fast friends--a strangely assorted
pair, and whenever the opportunity presented itself Teddy would
mount the ugly looking mule, riding him about the paddock or the
ring when there was nothing going on under the big top.  Every
time the pair made their appearance it was the signal for a shout
of merriment from the performers.
Teddy had perched himself on Jumbo's back while the mule was
awaiting his turn to enter the ring, which he did alone,
performing his act with nothing save the crack of the
ringmaster's whip to guide him.
Somebody had jammed a clown's cap on Teddy's head, while someone
else had hit it a smash with the flat of his hand, until the peak
of the cap lopped over to one side disconsolately.
Teddy's face wore an appreciative grin, Jumbo's long ears lying
as far back on his head as they would reach.  To the ordinary
observer it might have been supposed that the mule was angry
about something. On the contrary, it was his way of showing his
pleasure.  When a pan of oats was thrust before Jumbo, or he
chanced upon a patch of fresh, tender grass, the ears expressed
the animal's satisfaction.
Jumbo could do pretty much everything except talk, but
occasionally the stubbornness of his kind took possession of him.
At such times the trick mule was wont to do the most erratic
"How'd you like to ride him in?" chuckled Miaco, who stood
regarding the lad with a broad smile.
"If I had a saddle I wouldn't mind it," grinned Teddy's funny
face as an accompaniment to his words.
Jumbo's equipment consisted of a cinch girth and a pair of bridle
reins connected with a headstall.  There was no bit, but the
effect was to arch his neck like that of a proud stallion.
"You'd make the hit of your life if you did," laughed Miaco.
"Wonder the boss don't have you do it."
"Would if he knew about it," spoke up a performer.  "The really
funny things don't get into the ring in a circus, unless by
In the meantime the ringmaster was making his loud-voiced
announcement out under the big top.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he roared, after a loud crack of his
long-lashed whip, to attract the attention of the people to him,
"we are now about to introduce the wonderful performing mule
Jumbo, the only broncho-bucking, bobtailed mule in the world.
You will notice that he performs without a rider, without human
interference. Please do not speak to Jumbo while he is going
through his act. Ladies and gentlemen, Jumbo, the great educated
mule, will now make his appearance unaided by human hand."
The audience applauded the announcement.
At that moment the band struck up the tune by which Jumbo always
made his entrance.  At the first blare of the brass a fun-loving
clown jabbed Jumbo with a pin.  The mule did the rest.
"Here!  Here!  Get off that mule!" shouted the animal's trainer.
"He's going on!"
"Let him go!" roared clowns and other performers.
Jumbo had never made as quick a start in all his circus career as
he did that day.  He fairly leaped into the air, though only one
man understood the reason for the mule's sudden move.
With a bray that was heard all over the big top Jumbo burst
through the red curtains like a tornado.  There he paused for one
brief instant, as if uncertain whether to do a certain thing or
Recalling the ringmaster's words, the spectators at first were at
a loss to account for the odd-looking figure that was clinging to
the back of the educated mule.
Suddenly they broke out into roars of laughter, while the
performers peering through the red curtain fairly howled with
Teddy was hanging to the cinch girth uncertain what to do. The
ringmaster, amazed beyond words, stood gaping at the spectacle,
for the moment powerless to use his usually ready tongue.
Jumbo launched into the arena.
"Get off!" thundered the ringmaster, suddenly recovering himself.
"I can't!" howled Teddy, though from present indications it
appeared as if he would dismount without any effort on his own
Jumbo's heels flew into the air, then began a series of lunges,
bucking and terrific kicking such as none among the vast audience
ever had witnessed in or out of a show ring.
One instant Teddy would be standing on his head on the mule's
back, the next lying on his back with feet toward the animal's
head. Next he would be dragged along the ground, to be plumped
back again at the next bounce.
No feat seemed too difficult for Jumbo to attempt that day.
"Stop him!  Stop him!" howled the ringmaster.
Ring attendants rushed forward to obey his command, but they
might as well have tried to stop a tornado.  Jumbo eluded them
without the least trouble, but their efforts to keep out of range
of his flying hoofs were not so easy.  Some of them had narrow
escapes from being seriously injured.
Mr. Sparling, attracted by the roars of laughter of the audience
and the unusual disturbance, had hurried into the big top, where
he stood, at first in amazement, then with a broad grin
overspreading his countenance.
Now Jumbo began a race with himself about the arena, following
the concourse, now and then sending his heels into the air right
over the heads of the spectators of the lower row of seats,
sending them scrambling under the seats for protection.
A clown ran out with half a dozen paper covered hoops, which he
was holding in readiness for the next bareback act.
He flaunted them in the face of the runaway mule.
Jumbo ducked his head under them and Teddy Tucker's head went
through the paper with a crash, the mule's heels at that instant
being high in the air.
With the rings hung about his neck, Teddy cut a more ridiculous
figure than ever.  The audience went wild with excitement.
Now the ringmaster, angered beyond endurance, began reaching for
Teddy with the long lash of his whip.  The business end of the
lash once brushed the boy's cheek.
It stung him.
"Ouch!" howled Teddy as he felt the lash.
"Stop that!" exploded Mr. Sparling, who, by this time, had gotten
into the ring to take a hand in the performance himself.  He
grabbed the irate ringmaster by the collar, giving him a jerk
that that functionary did not forget in a hurry.
Jumbo, however, was no respecter of persons.  He had taken a
short cut across the ring just as the owner had begun his
correction of the ringmaster.  Jumbo shook out his heels again.
They caught the owner's sombrero and sent it spinning into the
Mr. Sparling, in his excitement, forgot all about the ringmaster.
Picking up a tent stake, he hurled it after the educated mule,
missing him by a full rod.
The audience by this time was in a tempest of excitement.  At
first they thought it was all a part of the show.  But they were
soon undeceived, which made their enjoyment and appreciation all
the greater.
Jumbo took a final sprint about the arena, Teddy's legs and free
arm most of the time in the air.  He had long since lost his
clown's cap, which Jumbo, espying, had kicked off into the
"You fool mule!  You fool mule!" bellowed Mr. Sparling.
Jumbo suddenly decided that he would go back to the paddock.
With him, to decide was to act.  Taking a fresh burst of speed,
he shot straight at the red curtains.  To reach these he was
obliged to pass close to the bandstand, where the band was
playing as if the very existence of the show depended upon them.
Teddy's grip was relaxing.  His arm was so benumbed that he could
not feel that he had any arm on that side at all.
His fingers slowly relaxed their grip on the cinch girth.  In a
moment he had bounced back to the educated mule's rump.  In
another instant he would be plumped to the hard ground with a
jolt that would shake him to his foundations.
But Jumbo had other plans--more spectacular plans--in mind.  He
put them into execution at once.  The moment he felt his burden
slipping over his back that active end grew busy again.  Jumbo
humped himself, letting out a volley of kicks so lightning-like
in their swiftness that human eye could not follow.
Teddy had slipped half over the mule's rump when the volley
"Catch him!  He'll be killed!" shouted someone.
All at once the figure of Teddy Tucker shot straight up into the
air, propelled there by the educated mule.  The lad's body
described what somebody afterwards characterized as "graceful
somersault in the air," then began its downward flight.
He landed right in the midst of the band.
There was a yell of warning, a jingle and clatter of brass,
several chairs went down under the impact, the floor gave way and
half the band, with Teddy Tucker in the middle of the heap, sank
out of sight.
THE RETURN TO THE SAWDUST LIFE
"Is he dead?"
"No; you can't kill a thick-head like that," snarled the
The audience was still roaring.
With angry imprecations the members of the band who had fallen
through were untangling themselves as rapidly as possible. Teddy,
in the meantime, had dragged himself from beneath the heap and
slunk out from under the broken platform.  He lost no time in
escaping to the paddock, but the bandmaster, espying him, started
after the lad, waving his baton threateningly.
No sooner had Teddy gained the seclusion of the dressing tent
than James Sparling burst in.
"Where's that boy?  Where's that boy?"
"Here he is," grinned a performer, thrusting Teddy forward, much
against the lad's inclinations.
Mr. Sparling surveyed him with narrow eyes.
"You young rascal!  Trying to break up my show, are you?"
"N-no--sir."
"Can you do that again, do you think?"
"I--I don't know."
"That's the greatest Rube mule act that ever hit a sawdust ring.
I'll double your salary if you think you can get away with it
every performance," fairly shouted the owner.
"I--I'm willing if the mule is," stammered Teddy somewhat
As a result the lad left his job in the cook tent, never to
return to it.  After many hard knocks and some heavy falls he
succeeded in so mastering the act that he was able to go through
with it without great risk of serious injury to himself.  The
educated mule and the boy became a feature of the Sparling
Combined Shows from that moment on, but after that Teddy took
good care not to round off his act by a high dive into the big
No one was more delighted at Teddy Tucker's sudden leap to fame
than was his companion, Phil Forrest.  Phil and Dr. Irvine
returned to the show, one afternoon, about a week after the
accident.  They had come on by train.
Phil, though somewhat pale after his setback, was clear-eyed, and
declared himself as fit as ever.  He insisted upon going on with
his act at the evening performance, but Mr. Sparling told him to
wait until the day following.  In the meantime Phil could get his
apparatus in working order.
"I'll look it over myself this time," announced the showman. "I
don't want any more such accidents happening in this show. Your
friend Teddy nearly put the whole outfit to the bad--he and the
That afternoon Phil had an opportunity to witness for himself the
exhibition of his companion and the "fool mule."  He laughed
until his sides ached.
"O Teddy, you'll break your neck doing that stunt one of these
times," warned Phil, hastening back to the dressing tent after
Teddy and the mule had left the ring.
"Don't you think it's worth the risk?"
"That depends."
"For two dollars a day?"
"Is that what you are getting?"
"Yep.  I'm a high-priced performer," insisted Teddy, snapping his
trousers pocket significantly.  "I'd jump off the big top, twice
every day, for that figure."
"What are you going to do with all your money?  Spend it?"
"I--rather thought I'd buy a bicycle."
Phil shook his head.
"You couldn't carry it, and, besides, nobody rides bicycles these
days.  They ride in automobiles."
"Then I'll buy one of them."
"I'll tell you what you do, Teddy."
"Lend the money to you, eh?"
"No; I am earning plenty for myself.  But every week, now, I
shall send all my money home to Mrs. Cahill.  I wrote to her
about it while I was sick.  She is going to put it in the bank
for me at Edmeston, with herself appointed as trustee.  That's
necessary, you see, because I am not of age.  Then no one can
take it away from me."
"You mean your Uncle Abner?" questioned Teddy.
"Yes.  I don't know that he would want to; but I'm not taking any
chances.  Now, why not send your money along at the same time?
Mrs. Cahill will deposit it in the same way, and at the end of
the season think what a lot of money you will have?"
"Regular fortune?"
"Yes, a regular fortune."
"What'll I do with all that money?"
"Do what I'm going to do--get an education."
"What, and leave the show business?  No, siree!"
"I didn't mean that.  You can go to school between seasons. I
don't intend to leave the show business, but I'm going to know
something besides that."
"Well, I guess it would be a good idea," reflected Teddy.
"Will you do it?"
"Yes; I'll do it," he nodded.
"Good for you!  We'll own a show of our own, one of these days.
You mark me, Teddy," glowed Phil.
"Of our own?" marveled Teddy, his face wreathing in smiles. "Say,
wouldn't that be great?"
"I think so.  Have you been practicing on the rings since I
"That's too bad.  You and I will begin tomorrow.  We ought to be
pretty expert on the flying rings in a few weeks, if I don't get
hurt again," added the boy, a shadow flitting across his face.
"Then, you'd better begin by taking some bends," suggested Mr.
Miaco, who, approaching, had overheard Phil's remark.
"Bends?" questioned Teddy
"What are they?" wondered Phil.  "Oh, I know.  I read about them
in the papers.  It's an attack that fellows working in a tunnel
get when they're digging under a river.  I don't want anything
"No, no, no," replied Mr. Miaco in a tone of disgust.  "It's no
disease at all."
"What I mean by bends is exercises.  You have seen the performers
do it--bend forward until their hands touch the ground, legs
stiff, then tipping as far backwards as possible.  Those are
bending exercises, and the best things to do.  The performers
limber up for their act that way.  If you practice it slowly
several times a day you will be surprised to see what it will do
for you.  I'd begin today were I in your place, Phil.  You'll
find yourself a little stiff when you go on in your elephant act
"I'm not going on tonight--not until tomorrow.  Mr. Sparling
doesn't wish me to."
"All right.  All the better.  Exercise!  I wouldn't begin on the
rings today either.  Just take your bends, get steady on your
feet and start in in a regular, systematic way tomorrow," advised
the head clown.
"Thank you, Mr. Miaco; I shall do so.  I am much obliged to you.
You are very kind to us."
"Because I like you, and because you boys don't pretend to know
more about the circus business than men who have spent their
lives in it."
"I hope I shall never be like that," laughed Phil.  "I know I
shall always be willing to learn."
"And there always is something to learn in the circus life.  None
of us knows it all.  There are new things coming up every day,"
added the clown.
Phil left the dressing tent to go around to the menagerie tent
for a talk with Mr. Kennedy and Emperor.  Entering the tent the
lad gave his whistle signal, whereat Emperor trumpeted loudly.
The big elephant greeted his young friend with every evidence of
joy and excitement.  Phil, of course, had brought Emperor a bag
of peanuts as well as several lumps of sugar, and it was with
difficulty that the lad got away from him after finishing his
chat with Mr. Kennedy.
Phil was making a round of calls that afternoon, so he decided
that he would next visit Mr. Sparling, having seen him only a
moment, and that while others were around.
"May I come in?" he asked.
"Yes; what do you want?"
"To thank you for your kindness."
"Didn't I tell you never to thank me for anything?" thundered the
"I beg your pardon, sir; I'll take it all back," twinkled Phil.
"Oh, you will, will you, young scapegrace?  What did you come
here for anyway?  Not to palaver about how thankful you are that
you got knocked out, stayed a week in bed and had your salary
paid all the time.  I'll bet you didn't come for that.  Want a
raise of salary already?"
"Hardly.  If you'll give me a chance, I'll tell you, Mr.
"Go on.  Say it quick."
"I have been thinking about the fall I got, since I've been laid
"Nothing else to think about, eh?"
"And the more I think about it, the more it bothers me."
"Does, eh?" grunted Mr. Sparling, busying himself with his
"Yes, sir.  I don't suppose it would be possible for me to get
the broken wire now, would it?  No doubt it was thrown away."
The showman peered up at the boy suspiciously.
"What do you want of it?"
"I thought I should like to examine it."
"To see what had been done to it."
"Oh, you do, eh?"
"What do you think happened to that wire?  It broke, didn't it?"
"Yes, I guess there is no doubt about it but somebody helped to
"Young man, you are too confoundedly smart.  Mark my words,
you'll die young.  Yes; I have the wire.  Here it is.  Look at
it.  You are right; something happened to it, and I've been
tearing myself to pieces, ever since, to find out who it was.
I've got all my amateur sleuths working on the case, this very
minute, to find out who the scoundrel is who cut the wire.  Have
you any idea about it? But there's no use in asking you.  I--"
"I've got this," answered Phil, tossing a small file on the table
in front of Mr. Sparling.
"What, what, what?  A file?"
"Yes, will you see if it fits the notch in the wire there?"
The showman did so, holding file and wire up to the light for a
better examination of them.
"There can be no doubt of it," answered the amazed showman,
fixing wondering eyes on the young man.  "Where did you get it?"
"Picked it up."
"In the dressing tent."
"Pooh!  Then it doesn't mean anything," grunted Mr. Sparling.
"If you knew where I picked it up you might think differently."
"Then where _did_ you get it?"
"Found it in my own trunk."
"In your trunk?"
Phil nodded.
"How did it get there?"
"I had left my trunk open after placing some things in it.  When
I went out to watch Teddy's mule act I was in such a hurry that I
forgot all about the trunk.  When I came back, there it lay, near
"Somebody put it there!" exploded the showman.
"But who?  Find that out for me--let me know who the man is and
you'll hear an explosion in this outfit that will raise the big
top right off the ground."
"Leave it to me, Mr. Sparling, I'll find him."
The owner laughed harshly.
"I think I know who the man is at this very minute," was Phil
Forrest's startling announcement, uttered in a quiet, even tone.
Mr. Sparling leaped from his chair so suddenly that he overturned
the table in front of him, sending his papers flying all over the
AN ELEPHANT IN JAIL
"Who is he?"
"I would not care to answer that question just now, Mr.
Sparling," answered Phil calmly.  "It would not be right--that
is, not until I am sure about it."
"Tell me, or get out."
"Remember, Mr. Sparling, it is a serious accusation you ask me to
make against a man on proof that you would say was not worth
anything. It may take some time, but before I get through I'm
going either to fasten the act on someone--on a particular
one--or else prove that I am wholly mistaken."
The showman stormed, but Phil was obdurate.  He refused to give
the slightest intimation as to whom he suspected.
"Am I to go, Mr. Sparling?" he asked after the interview had come
"No!  I expect you'll own this show yet."
He watched Phil walking away from the tent.  There was a scowl on
the face of James Sparling.
"If I thought that young rascal really thought he knew, I'd take
him across my knee and spank him until he told me.  No; he's more
of a man than any two in the whole outfit.  I'd rather lose a
horse than have anything happen to that lad."
Days followed each other in quick succession.  The show had by
this time swung around into Pennsylvania, and was playing a
circuit of small mining towns with exceptionally good attendance.
The owner of the show was in high good humor over the profits the
show was earning.  The acts of Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker had
proved to be among the best drawing cards in the circus
performance proper.  So important did the owner consider them
that the names of the two circus boys were now prominently
displayed in the advertisements, as well as on the billboards.
During all this time, Phil and Teddy had worked faithfully on the
rings under the instruction of Mr. Miaco.  On the side they were
taking lessons in tumbling as well.  For this purpose what is
known as a "mechanic" was used to assist them in their schooling.
This consisted of a belt placed about the beginner's waist. >From
it a rope led up over a pulley, the other end of the rope being
securely held by someone.
When all was ready the pupil would take a running start, jump
into the air and try to turn.  At the same time, the man holding
the free end of the rope would give it a hard pull, thus jerking
the boy free of the ground and preventing his falling on his
After a few days of this, both boys had progressed so far that
they were able to work on a mat, made up of several layers of
thick carpet, without the aid of the "mechanic."  Of course their
act lacked finish.  Their movements were more or less clumsy, but
they had mastered the principle of the somersault in remarkably
Mr. Miaco said that in two more weeks they ought to be able to
join the performers in their general tumbling act, which was one
of the features of the show.
There was not an hour of the day that found the two boys idle,
now, and all this activity was viewed by Mr. Sparling with an
approving eye.
But one day there came an interruption that turned the thoughts
of the big show family in another direction.
An accident had happened at the morning parade that promised
trouble for the show.  A countryman, who had heard that the hide
of an elephant could not be punctured, was struck by the happy
thought of finding out for himself the truth or falsity of this
theory.  He had had an argument with some of his friends, he
taking the ground that an elephant's hide was no different from
the hide of any other animal.  And he promised to show them that
All he needed was the opportunity.  With his friends he had
followed along with the parade, keeping abreast of the elephants,
until finally the parade was halted by the crossing gates at a
Now was the man's chance to prove the theory false.  The crowd
closed in on the parade to get a closer view of the people, and
this acted as a cover for the man's experiment.
Taking his penknife out he placed the point of it against the
side of Emperor, as it chanced.
"Now watch me," he said, at the same time giving the knife a
quick shove, intending merely to see if he could prick through
the skin. His experiment succeeded beyond the fellow's fondest
expectations. The point of the knife had gone clear through
Emperor's hide.
Emperor, ordinarily possessed of a keen sense of humor, coupled
with great good nature, in this instance failed to see the humor
of the proceeding.  In fact, he objected promptly and in a most
surprising manner.
Like a flash, his trunk curled back.  It caught the bold
experimenter about the waist, and the next instant the fellow was
dangling in the air over Emperor's head, yelling lustily for
help.  The elephant had been watching the man, apparently
suspecting something, and therefore was ready for him.
"Put him down!" thundered Kennedy.
The elephant obeyed, but in a manner not intended by the trainer
when he gave the command.
With a quick sweep of his trunk, Emperor hurled his tormentor
from him. The man's body did not stop until it struck a large
plate glass window in a store front, disappearing into the store
amid a terrific crashing of glass and breaking of woodwork, the
man having carried most of the window with him in his sudden
entry into the store.
This was a feature of the parade that had not been advertised on
The procession moved on a moment later, with old Emperor swinging
along as meekly as if he had not just stirred up a heap of
trouble for himself and his owner.
The man, it was soon learned, had been badly hurt.
But Mr. Sparling was on the ground almost at once, making an
investigation.  He quickly learned what had caused the trouble.
And then he was mad all through.  He raved up and down the line
threatening to get out a warrant for the arrest of the man who
had stuck a knife into his elephant.
Later in the afternoon matters took a different turn.  A lawyer
called on the showman, demanding the payment of ten thousand
dollars damages for the injuries sustained by his client, and
which, he said, would in all probability make the man a cripple
If the showman had been angry before, he was in a towering rage
"Get off this lot!" he roared.  "If you show your face here again
I'll set the canvasmen on you!  Then you won't be able to leave
without help."
The lawyer stood not upon the order of his going, and they saw no
more of him.  They had about concluded that they had heard the
last of his demands, until just before the evening performance,
when, as the cook tent was being struck, half a dozen deputy
sheriffs suddenly made their appearance.
They held papers permitting them to levy on anything they could
lay their hands upon and hold it until full damages had been
fixed by the courts.
There was no trifling with the law, at least not then, and Mr.
Sparling was shrewd enough to see that.  However, he stormed and
threatened, but all to no purpose.
The intelligent deputies reasoned that Emperor, having been the
cause of all the trouble, would be the proper chattel to levy
upon. So they levied on him.
The next thing was to get Emperor to jail.  He would not budge an
inch when the officers sought to take him.  Then a happy thought
struck them.  They ordered the trainer to lead the elephant and
follow them under pain of instant arrest if he refused.
There was nothing for it but to obey.  Protesting loudly, Kennedy
started for the village with his great, hulking charge.
Phil Forrest was as disconsolate as his employer was enraged. The
boy's act was spoiled, perhaps indefinitely, which might mean the
loss of part of his salary.
"That's country justice," growled the owner.  "But I'll telegraph
my lawyer in the city and have him here by morning.  Maybe it
won't be such a bad speculation tomorrow, for I'll make this town
go broke before it has fully settled the damages I'll get out of
it.  Don't be down in the mouth, Forrest.  You'll have your
elephant back, and before many days at that.  Go watch the show
and forget your troubles."
It will be observed that, under his apparently excitable
exterior, Mr. James Sparling was a philosopher.
"Emperor's in jail," mourned Phil.
The moment Mr. Kennedy returned, sullen and uncommunicative, Phil
sought him out.  He found the trainer in Mr. Sparling's tent.
"Where did they take him?" demanded Phil, breaking in on their
conversation.
"To jail," answered Kennedy grimly.  "First time I ever heard of
such a thing as an elephant's going to jail."
"That's the idea.  We'll use that for an advertisement," cried
the ever alert showman, slapping his thighs.  "Emperor, the
performing elephant of the Great Sparling Combined Shows, jailed
for assault. Fine, fine!  How'll that look in the newspapers?
Why, men, it will fill the tent when we get to the next stand,
whether we have the elephant or not."
"No; you've got to have the elephant," contended Kennedy.
"Well, perhaps that's so.  But I'll wire our man ahead, just the
same, and let him use the fact in his press notices."
"But how could they get him in the jail?" questioned Phil.
"Jail?  You see, they couldn't.  They wanted to, but the jail
wouldn't fit, or the elephant wouldn't fit the jail, either way
you please.  When they discovered that they didn't know what to
do with him.  Somebody suggested that they might lock him up in
the blacksmith shop."
"The blacksmith shop?" exploded the owner.
"I hope they don't try to fit him with shoes," he added, with a
"Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they did.  We'd have our
elephant right quick.  Yes, they tried the blacksmith shop on,
and it worked, but it was a close fit.  If Emperor had had a bump
on his back as big as an egg he wouldn't have gone in."
"And he's there now?"
"Yes.  I reckon I'd better stay here and camp at the hotel,
hadn't I, so's to be handy when your lawyer comes on?  Emperor
might tear up the town if he got loose."
Mr. Sparling reflected for a moment.
"Kennedy, you'll go with the show tonight.  I don't care if
Emperor tears this town up by the roots.  If none of us is here,
then we shall not be to blame for what happens.  We didn't tell
them to lock him up in the blacksmith shop.  You can get back
after the lawyer has gotten him out.  That will be time enough."
"Where is the blacksmith shop?" questioned Phil.
"Know where the graveyard is?"
"It's just the other side of that," said Kennedy.  "Church on
this side, blacksmith shop on the other.  Why?"
"Oh, nothing.  I was just wondering," answered Phil, glancing up
and finding the eyes of Mr. Sparling bent keenly upon him.
The lad rose hastily, went out, and climbing up to the seat of a
long pole wagon, sat down to ponder over the situation. He
remained there until a teamster came to hook to the wagon and
drive it over to be loaded.  Then Phil got down, standing about
with hands in his pockets.
He was trying to make up his mind about something.
"Where do we show tomorrow?" he asked of an employee.
"Dobbsville, Ohio.  We'll be over the line before daybreak."
The circus tent was rapidly disappearing now.  "In another state
in the morning," mused Phil.
One by one the wagons began moving from the circus lot.
"Get aboard the sleeping car," called the driver of the wagon
that Phil and Teddy usually slept in, as he drove past.
"Hey, Phil!" called Teddy, suddenly appearing above the top of
"Hello, Teddy!"
"What are you standing there for?"
"Perhaps I'm getting the night air," laughed Phil.  "Fine, isn't
"It might be better.  But get in; get in.  You'll be left."
"Never mind me.  I am not going on your wagon tonight.  You may
have the bed all to yourself.  Don't forget to leave your window
open," he jeered.
"I have it open already.  I'm going to put the screen in now to
keep the mosquitoes out," retorted Teddy, not to be outdone.
"Has Mr. Sparling gone yet do you know?"
"No; he and Kennedy are over yonder where the front door was,
"All right."
Teddy's head disappeared.  No sooner had it done so than Phil
Forrest turned and ran swiftly toward the opposite side of the
lot. He ran in a crouching position, as if to avoid being seen.
Reaching a fence which separated the road from the field, he
threw himself down in the tall grass there and hid.
"In Ohio tomorrow.  I'm going to try it," he muttered.  "It can't
be wrong.  They had no business, no right to do it," he decided,
his voice full of indignation.
He heard the wagons rumbling by him on the hard road, the rattle
of wheels accompanied by the shouts of the drivers as they urged
their horses on.
And there Phil lay hidden until every wagon had departed, headed
for the border, and the circus lot became a barren, deserted and
silent field.
CHAPTER XXII
EMPEROR ANSWERS THE SIGNAL
Making sure that everybody had left, Phil Forrest ran swiftly
toward the village.  He knew the way, having been downtown during
A light twinkled here and there in a house, where the people, no
doubt, were discussing the exciting events of the day.  As Phil
drew near the cemetery he heard voices.
It would not do to be discovered, so the lad climbed the fence
and crept along the edge of the open plot.  He was nearing the
blacksmith shop and it was soon apparent to him that quite a
number of men had gathered in front of the shop itself.
Skulking up to the corner, the last rod being traversed on all
fours, the circus boy flattened himself on the ground to listen,
in an effort to learn if possible what were the plans of the
villagers.  If they had any he did not learn them, for their
conversation was devoted principally to discussing what they had
done to the Sparling show and what they would do further before
they had finished with this business.
Phil did learn, however, that the man who had been hurled through
the store window was not fatally injured, as had been thought at
first.  Someone announced that the doctor had said the man would
be about again in a couple of weeks.
"I'm glad of that," muttered Phil.  "I shouldn't like to think
that Emperor had killed anyone.  I wonder how he likes it in
Evidently the elephant was not well pleased, for the lad could
hear him stirring restlessly and tugging at his chains.
"Won't he be surprised, though?" chuckled Phil.  "I shouldn't be
surprised if he made a lot of noise.  I hope he doesn't, for I
don't want to stir the town up.  I wonder if those fellows are
going to stay there all night?"
The loungers showed no inclination to move, so there was nothing
for the boy to do but to lie still and wait.
After a little he began to feel chilled, and began hopping around
on hands and feet to start his blood moving.  A little of this
warmed him up considerably.  This time he sat down in the fence
corner.  The night was moonless, but the stars were quite bright,
enabling Phil to make out objects some distance away. He could
see quite plainly the men gathered in front of the blacksmith
After a wait of what seemed hours to Phil, one of the watchers
stirred himself.
"Well, fellows, we might as well go home.  The brute's settled
down for the night, I reckon."
"What time is it?"
"Half past two," announced the first speaker.
"Well, well, I should say it was time to go.  Not going to stay
with him, are you, sheriff?"
"Not necessary.  He can't get out."
After listening at the closed door, the one whom Phil judged to
be an officer joined his companions and all walked leisurely down
The lad remained in the fence corner for sometime, but he stood
up after they had gone.  He did not dare move about much, fearing
that Emperor might hear and know him and raise a great tumult.
Phil waited all of half an hour; then he climbed the fence and
slipped cautiously to the door of the shop.
It was securely locked.
"Oh, pshaw!  That's too bad," grumbled the lad.  "How am I going
Phil ran his fingers lightly over the fastening, which consisted
of a strong hasp and a padlock.
"What shall I do?  I dare not try to break the lock.  I should be
committing a crime if I did.  Perhaps I am already.  No; I'm not,
and I shall not.  I'll just speak to Emperor, then start off on
foot after the show.  It was foolish of me to think I could do
anything to help Mr. Sparling and the elephant out of his
trouble. I ought to be able to walk to the next stand and get
there in time for the last breakfast call, providing I can find
Perhaps Phil's conscience troubled him a little, though he had
done nothing worse than to follow the dictates of his kind heart
in his desire to be of assistance to his employer and to befriend
old Emperor.
Placing his lips close to the door, Phil called softly.
"Emperor!" he said.
The restless swaying and heavy breathing within ceased suddenly.
"Emperor!" repeated the lad, at the same time uttering the low
whistle that the big elephant had come to know so well.
A mighty cough from the interior of the blacksmith shop answered
Phil Forrest's signal.
"Be quiet, Emperor.  Be quiet!  We are going to get you out as
soon as we can, old fellow!  You just behave yourself now.  Do
Emperor emitted another loud cough.
"Good old Emperor.  I've got some peanuts for you, but I don't
know how I am going to give them to you.  Wait a minute.  Perhaps
there is a window somewhere that I can toss them through."
Phil, after looking around, found a window with the small panes
of glass missing.  The window was so high that he could not reach
it, so he stood on the ground and tossed the peanuts in, while
the big elephant demonstrated the satisfaction he felt, in a
series of sharp intakes of breath.
"Now I'm going," announced Phil.  "Goodbye, Emperor.  Here's a
lump of sugar.  That's all I have for you."
Phil turned away sorrowfully.  His purpose had failed. Not
because he doubted his ability to carry it out, but he was not
sure that he would be right in doing so.
A few rods down the road he paused, turned and uttered his shrill
signal whistle, with no other idea in mind than to bring some
comfort to the imprisoned beast.
Emperor interpreted the signal otherwise, however.  He uttered a
loud, shrill trumpet; then things began to happen with a rapidity
that fairly made the circus boy's head whirl.
A sudden jingle of metal, a crashing and rending from within the
shop, caused Phil to halt sharply after he had once more started
Crash!  Bang!
Emperor had brought his wonderful strength to bear on his
flimsily constructed prison with disastrous results to the
latter. First he had torn the blacksmith's bellows out by the
roots and hurled it from him.  Next he set to work to smash
everything within reach.  A moment of this and the elephant had
freed himself from the light chains with which the keeper had
secured him.
"Wha--oh, what is he doing?" gasped Phil Forrest.
The boards on one side of the shop burst out as from a sudden
explosion.  Down came half a dozen of the light studdings that
supported the roof on that side.
By this time Emperor had worked himself into a fine temper. He
turned his attention to the other side of the shop with similar
disastrous results.  The interior of the blacksmith shop was a
wreck.  It could not have been in much worse condition had it
been struck by a cyclone.
All of a sudden the elephant threw his whole weight against the
big sliding door.  It burst out with a report like that of a
Emperor came staggering out into the open.  There he paused, with
twitching ears and curling trunk, peering into the darkness in
search of Phil Forrest.
Phil recovered from his surprise sufficiently to realize what had
happened and that old Emperor was free once more.
The lad uttered a shrill whistle.  Emperor responded by a
piercing scream.  He then whirled, facing up the road in Phil's
direction, though unable to see the lad.
Once more the boy whistled.  Emperor was off in a twinkling.
"Steady, steady, Emperor!" cautioned the lad, as he saw the huge
hulk bearing swiftly down on him.  "Easy, old boy!"
But the elephant did not lessen his speed one particle.  Phil
felt sure, however, that he himself would not be harmed.  He knew
Emperor too well.  With perfect confidence in the great animal,
the lad threw both hands above his head, standing motionless in
the center of the street right in the path of the oncoming beast.
"Steady, steady, steady!" cautioned Phil.  "Now up, Emperor!"
The elephant's long, sinuous trunk uncurled, coiled about the
lad's waist and the next instant Phil felt himself being lifted
to the big beast's head.
"I've got him!" shouted Phil, carried away by the excitement of
the moment.  "Now, go it!  Emperor!  Go faster than you ever have
since you chased lions in the jungle."
And Emperor did go it!  As he tore down the village street he
woke the echoes with his shrill trumpetings, bringing every man
and woman in the little village tumbling from their beds.
"The elephant is escaping!" cried the people, as they threw up
their windows and gazed out.  As they looked they saw a huge,
shadowy shape hurling itself down the street, whereat they
hastily withdrew their heads.  In a few moments the men of the
village came rushing out, all running toward the blacksmith shop
to learn what had happened there.  There followed a perfect
pandemonium of yells when they discovered the wrecked condition
of the place.
In the meantime Phil had guided Emperor into the road that led to
the show grounds of the previous day.  The elephant was about to
turn into the lot, when a sharp slap from his rider caused him to
swing back into the highway on the trail of the wagons that had
passed on some hours before.
Once he had fairly started Emperor followed the trail, making the
turns and following the twists of the road as unerringly as an
Indian follows the trail of his enemy.
"Hurrah!" shouted Phil, after they had got clear of the village.
"I've won, I've won!  But, oh, won't there be a row back there
when they find out what has happened, I wonder if they will
The thought startled him.
"If they do they are liable to arrest me, believing that I let
him out.  _Go it,_ Emperor!  Go faster!"
Emperor flapped his ears in reply and swung off at an increased
gait. The darkness of early morn was soon succeeded by the
graying dawn, and Phil felt a certain sense of relief as he
realized that day was breaking.  On they swept, past hamlets, by
farm houses, where here and there men with milkpails in hand
paused, startled, to rub their eyes and gaze upon the strange
outfit that was rushing past them at such a pace.
Phil could not repress a chuckle at such times, at thought of the
sensation he was creating.
The hours drew on until seven o'clock had arrived, and the sun
was high in the heavens.
"I must be getting near the place," decided Phil.  He knew he was
on the right road, for he could plainly see the trail of the
wagons and of the stock in the dust of the road before him.
"Yes; there is some sort of a village way off yonder.  I wonder
if that is it?"
A fluttering flag from the top of a far away center-pole, which
he caught sight of a few minutes later, told the boy that it was.
"Hurrah!" shouted Phil, waving his hat on high.
At that moment a distant chorus of yells smote his ears.  The lad
listened intently.  The shout was repeated.  Holding fast to the
headstall, he glanced back over the road.  There, far to his
rear, he discovered a cloud of dust, which a few minutes later
resolved itself into a party of horsemen, riding at top speed.
"They're after me!  Go faster!  Go faster!" shouted the lad. As
he spoke a rifle cracked somewhere behind him, but as Phil heard
no bullet the leaden missile must have fallen far short of the
CHAPTER XXIII
THE MYSTERY SOLVED
As he neared the village Phil began to shout and wave his hat.
After a time his shouts attracted the attention of some of the
people on the circus lot, which was on his side of the village.
"It's Emperor coming back!" cried someone.  "There's somebody on
him," added another.
"I'll bet the day's receipts that it's that rascally Phil
Forrest," exclaimed Mr. Sparling, examining the cloud of dust
with shaded eyes. "How in the world did it ever happen?  I've
been hunting all over the outfit for that boy this morning.
Young Tucker said he thought Phil had remained behind, and I was
afraid something had happened to the boy or that he had skipped
the show.  I might have known better. What's that back of him?"
"Somebody chasing them, boss," a tentman informed him.
"And they're going to catch old Emperor sure."
"Not if I know it," snapped Mr. Sparling.  _"Hey, Rube!"_ he
Canvasmen, roustabouts, performers and everybody within reach of
his voice swarmed out into the open, armed with clubs, stones and
anything they could lay their hands upon.
"There's a posse trying to catch Phil Forrest and old Emperor.
Get a going!  Head them off and drive them back!"
Every man started on a run, some leaping on horses, clearing the
circus lot, riding like so many cowboys.  As they approached the
lad perched on the bobbing head of the elephant the showmen set
up a chorus of wild yells, to which Phil responded by waving his
hat. He tried to stand up on Emperor's head, narrowly missing a
tumble, which he surely would have taken had not the elephant
given him quick support with the ever-handy trunk.
"They're shooting at me," cried Phil, as he swept by the showmen.
"Line up!" commanded Mr. Sparling.
His men stretched across the highway, with the mounted ones in
front, his infantry behind.  Soon the horsemen of the pursuing
party came dashing up and brought their horses to a sudden stop.
"What do you want?"
"We demand the turning over of the elephant which one of your men
stole from us.  They've wrecked the blacksmith shop and there'll
be a pretty bill of damages to pay!  Come now, before we take you
back with us."
Mr. Sparling grinned.
"Perhaps you don't know that you are in the State of Ohio at the
present moment, eh?  If you'll take my advice you'll turn about
and get home as fast as horseflesh will carry you.  My lawyer
will be in your town today, and he will arrange for the payment
of all just damages.  We decline to be robbed, however.  We've
got the elephant and we're going to keep him."
"And we're going to have the boy that broke in and released him."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed Mr. Sparling jovially.  "I guess you'll
have the liveliest scrimmage you ever had in all your lives if
you attempt to lay hands on that boy.  Come, now, get out of
here! If you attempt to raise the slightest disturbance I'll have
the bunch of you in the cooler, and we'll be the boys to put you
there if the town officials don't act quickly enough."
"Boys, I guess it's up to us," decided the leader of the party.
"Looks that way."
"Then what do you say if we stop and see the show?"
"Good idea!"
"I don't care how many of you go to the show; but, mark me, it
will cost you fifty cents a head, and at the first sign of
disturbance you'll see the biggest bunch of trouble headed your
"It's all right, Mr. Sparling.  We admit we've been done."
And that was the end of it.  Mr. Sparling's lawyer visited the
town where the disturbance had occurred on the previous day, and
at his client's direction made a settlement that should have been
wholly satisfactory to the injured parties.  Ordinarily the
showman would not have settled the case, in view of the fact that
neither he nor any of his employees was directly responsible for
the series of disasters.  He did it almost wholly on account of
Phil Forrest, who had asked him to.
"Well, young man, I've paid the bills," announced Mr. Sparling
that afternoon before the evening performance.
"Thank you," glowed Phil.
"Stop that!  If there's any thanks in it, they're coming to you.
Between you and the elephant we'll have another turn-away today.
You have already put a good bit of money in my pocket, and I'm
not forgetting it.  I have made definite arrangements for you and
your chum to have a berth in a closed wagon after this.  You will
be good enough to offer no objections this time.  What I say
"I hope I did not do anything wrong in taking Emperor away. I'm
afraid my conscience has troubled me ever since.  But I didn't
intend to do anything wrong or to cause any further damage than
already had been done."
"You did perfectly right, Forrest.  That was a stroke of genius.
As for damage, I tell you I have settled all of that.  One of
these days you come in when I'm not busy and we'll talk about
next season.  I want you to stay with me."
Phil left his employer, the lad's face flushed and his eyes
sparkling. Altogether, he was a very happy boy.  The only real
cloud that had darkened his horizon was that anyone should feel
such an enmity toward him as to desire to take his life; or, at
least, to cause him so serious an injury as to put an end to the
career that now seemed so promising.
"I know why, of course," mused the lad.  "It was jealousy.  I am
more sure than ever as to the identity of the man who did it.
When I get a good opportunity I am going to face him with it. I'm
not afraid of the man.  As it is, he might try it again; but if
he understands that I know he will not dare try it, fearing I may
have told someone else."
Having come to this wise conclusion, Phil proceeded to the big
top, where he and Teddy Tucker were to take their afternoon
practice on the flying rings, pausing on the way to pass a
handful of peanuts to Emperor, who was again in his place, and
give the elephant's trainer a happy nod.
"I've noticed of late that Signor Navaro acts rather grouchy over
you boys working on his apparatus.  You want to look out for
these foreigners.  Some of them are revengeful," cautioned Mr.
Signor Navaro was the leading performer in the flying-rings act.
With him was his young son, Rodney Palmer and a young girl
performer, whose father was a clown in the show.
Phil shot a sharp glance at Mr. Miaco, then dropped his eyes.
"I guess nobody would be jealous of me," laughed the lad. "I'm
only a beginner, and a clumsy one at that.  All I can do is to
ride an elephant and fall off, nearly killing myself."
"Nevertheless, you take my advice."
"I will, thank you."
The boys began their work after putting on their working clothes,
consisting of old silk undershirts and linen trunks.  This left
them free for the full play of their muscles, which, by this
time, were of exceptionally fine quality.  Not big and bunchy,
but like thin bands of pliable steel.  Both Phil and Teddy
appeared to have grown half a head taller since they joined out
with the circus.
"Put a little more finish in that cutoff movement," directed
their instructor.  "The way you do it, Teddy, you remind me of a
man trying to kick out a window.  There, that's better."
And so it went on.  Days came and went and the steady practice of
the two circus boys continued, but if Mr. Sparling knew what they
were doing he made no reference to it.  He probably did know, for
little went on in the Sparling Combined Shows that he was not
Nothing out of the routine occurred, until, late in the season,
they pitched their tents in Canton, Ohio, when something happened
that brought to a climax the certainty of the careers of the
circus boys.
All day long the clouds had been threatening.  But, though keen
eyes were watching the scudding clouds, no apprehension was felt,
as it was believed to be but a passing thunderstorm that was
The storm did not break until late in the afternoon when the show
was more than half over.  Phil had made his grand entry on
Emperor, and Teddy had nearly sent the spectators into hysterics
by his funny antics on the back of Jumbo, the educated mule.
All at once the circus men glanced aloft as the shrill whistle of
the boss canvasman trilled somewhere outside the big top. The
audience, if they heard, gave no heed.  They were too much
interested in the show.
To the showmen the whistle meant that the emergency gang was
being summoned in haste to stake down emergency ropes to protect
the tent from a windstorm that was coming up.
Phil took a quick survey of the upper part of the tent.  Two acts
were just beginning up there.  A trapeze act was on, and the four
performers were swinging out on the flying rings.
Both sets of performers were in rather perilous positions were
the wind to blow very hard, as Phil well understood.  He stepped
off until he found a quarter pole at his back against which he
leaned that he might watch the better the lofty performers.
All at once there was a blast against the big top that sounded as
if a great blow had been delivered.  The audience half rose. The
tent shook from end to end.
"Sit down!" bellowed the ringmaster.  "It's only a puff of wind."
Before the words were out of his mouth a piercing scream roused
the audience almost to the verge of panic.
Phil, whose attention had been drawn to the people for the
moment, shot a swift glance up into the somber haze of the peak
of the big top.
Something had happened.  But what?
"They're falling!" he gasped.
The blow had loosened nearly every bit of the aerial apparatus
under the circus tent.
"There go the trapeze performers!"
Down they came, landing with a whack in the net with their
apparatus tumbling after them.  But they were out of the net in a
twinkling, none the worse for their accident.  Almost at the same
moment there were other screams.
"There go the rings!"
There was no net under the flying ring performers.  Two of them
shot toward the ground.  When they struck, one was on top of the
other.  The man at the bottom was Signor Navaro, his son having
fallen prone across him.  The two other performers in the act had
grabbed a rope and saved themselves.
Men picked the two fallen performers up hastily and bore them to
the dressing tent, where Phil hastened the moment he was sure
that all danger of a panic had passed.  The gust of wind had
driven the clouds away and the sun flashed out brilliantly.
A moment later the performance was going on with a rush, the band
playing a lively tune.
Phil, when he reached the dressing tent, learned that Signor
Navaro was seriously hurt, though his son was suffering merely
from shock.  The father had sustained several broken bones.
Phil approached the injured performer and leaned over him. The
man was conscious.
"I'm sorry, very sorry, sir," breathed the boy sympathetically.
"You needn't be.  You'll get what you want," murmured the circus
"I don't understand," wondered Phil.
"You'll get my act."
"Is that what you think I have been working for?"
Signor Navaro nodded.
"You are mistaken.  Of course, if you are not able to perform any
more this season I shall try to get it, but when you are able to
go to work I shall give it up willingly, even if I succeed in
getting it during that time.  Is that why you played that trick
on me?" demanded the lad.
"You know?" questioned Signor Navaro, with a start.
Phil gave a slight nod.
"Why did you put the file in my trunk--the file you cut the wire
"I thought I dropped it in my own trunk.  Somebody surprised me
and I was afraid they would catch me with it in my hand and
"That's what I thought."
"You are sharp.  And you told no one?"
"No.  But I had made up my mind to tell you.  I didn't think it
would have to be this way, though.  I'm sorry it is."
"Well, I have my punishment.  It served me right.  I was crazed
with jealousy.  I--how is the boy?"
"Not badly hurt, I believe.  He will be all right in a few days,
and I hope you will be able to join out in a short time."
Signor Navaro extended a feeble hand, which Phil pressed softly.
"Forgive me, boy.  Will you?"
"Yes," whispered Phil.
"And you will tell no--"
"There is nothing to tell, Signor Navaro.  If there is anything I
can do for you, tell me, and I shall have great happiness in
doing it," breathed the lad.
A final grip of the hands of the boy and the injured performer
followed, after which Phil Forrest stepped back to make way for
the surgeon, who had hurried to a wagon to fetch his case.
CHAPTER XXIV
"You see, an accident always casts a cloud over a show and makes
the performers uncertain," said Mr. Miaco that night as he and
Phil were watching the performance from the end of the band
"I should think it would," mused the boy.
Soon after that Phil went to his wagon and turned in, his mind
still on Signor Navaro, who had been taken to a hospital, where
he was destined to remain for many weeks.
"I guess it doesn't pay, in the long run, to be dishonorable,"
mused the lad as he was dropping off to sleep.
The next morning Phil was up bright and early, very much
refreshed after a good night's rest between his blankets in the
comfortable sleeping wagon.  Teddy, however, declared that he
didn't like it. He said he preferred to sleep on a pile of canvas
in the open air, even if he did get wet once in a while.
Later in the morning, after Mr. Sparling had had time to dispose
of his usual rush of morning business, which consisted of hearing
reports from his heads of departments, and giving his orders for
the day, Phil sought out his employer in the little dog tent.
"I'm very sorry about the accident, Mr. Sparling," greeted Phil.
"Yes; it ties up one act.  It will be some days before I can get
another team in to take it up, and here we are just beginning to
play the big towns.  I have been trying to figure out if there
was not someone in the show who could double in that act and get
away with it," mused the showman.  "How'd you sleep?"
"Fine.  Is there no one you can think of who could fill the bill,
Mr. Sparling?"
"No; that's the rub.  You know of anyone?"
"How about myself."
Mr. Sparling surveyed the lad in surprised inquiry.
"I think I can make a pretty fair showing on the rings.  Of
course, if Signor Navaro gets well and comes back, I shall be
glad to give the act back to him.  I know something about the
flying rings."
"Young man, is there anything in this show that you can't do?"
demanded Mr. Sparling, with an attempt at sternness.
"A great many things, sir.  Then, again, there are some others
that I have confidence enough in myself to believe I can do.  You
see, I have been practicing on the rings ever since I joined
"But you are only one.  We shall need two performers," objected
"Teddy Tucker has been working with me.  He is fully as good on
the flying rings as I am, if not better."
"H-m-m-m!" mused the showman.  "Come over to the big top and
let's see what you really can do," he said, starting up.
Phil ran in search of Teddy and in a few minutes the two boys
appeared in the arena, ready for the rehearsal.
Mr. Miaco, who had been called on and informed of the news,
accompanied them.  It was he who hauled the boys up to the rings
far up toward the top of the tent.
"Get a net under there!  We don't want to lose any more
performers this season," the clown commanded.
After some little delay the net was spread and the showman
motioned for the performance to proceed, walking over and taking
his seat on the boards so that he might watch the performance
from the viewpoint of the audience.
With the utmost confidence the boys went through the act without
a slip.  They did everything that Signor Navaro had done in his
performance, adding some clever feats of their own that had been
devised with the help of Mr. Miaco.  Mr. Sparling looked on with
twinkling eyes and frequent nods of approval.
"Fine!  Fine!  One of the best flying-ring acts I ever saw," he
shouted, when finally the lads rounded out their act by a series
of rapid evolutions commonly known as "skinning the cat."  Even
in this their act was attended with variations.
The boys concluded by a graceful drop into the net, from which
they bounded into the air, swung themselves to the ground, each
throwing a kiss to the grinning manager.
A number of performers who had been a witness to the performance
clapped their hands and shouted "bravo!"
Mr. Sparling called the lads to him.
"The act is yours," he said.  "It is better than Navaro's.  Each
of you will draw twenty five dollars a week for the rest of the
season," he announced to the proud circus boys, who thereupon ran
to the dressing tent to take a quick bath and get into their
costumes ready for the parade.
"See to it that they have the net spread, Mr. Ducro," he
directed. "Never permit them to perform without it."
That afternoon the boys made their first appearance in the
flying-ring exhibition, and their act really proved a sensation.
Mr. Sparling, who was observing it from the side, kept his head
bobbing with nods of approval and muttered comments.
After the show Phil suggested that thereafter Teddy be allowed to
use a clown makeup, because his funny antics in the air were more
fitted to the character of a clown than to that of a finished
To this the owner readily agreed, and that night they tried it
with tremendous success.
The days that followed were bright ones for the circus boys. Each
day seemed an improvement over the previous one.  The season drew
rapidly to a close and they looked forward to the day with keen
One day Mr. Sparling summoned them to his tent.
"Are you boys ready to sign up for next season?" he asked.
"I should like to," answered Phil.
"This will be a railroad show next season, the third largest show
on the road, and I want you both."
"Thank you; I shall join gladly."
"So will I," chorused Teddy.
"Your salaries will be fifty dollars a week next season.  And if
you wish a vaudeville engagement for the winter I think I shall
be able to get one for you."
"We are going to school, Mr. Sparling.  Teddy and I will be hard
at work over our books next week.  But we are going to keep up
our practice all winter and perhaps we may have some new acts to
surprise you with in the spring," laughed Phil, his face aglow
with happiness.
A week later found the lads back in Edmeston, bronzed, healthy,
manly and admired by all who saw them.  Phil had nearly four
hundred dollars in the bank, while Teddy had about one hundred
Phil's first duty after greeting Mrs. Cahill was to call on his
uncle, who begrudgingly allowed his nephew to shake hands with
him. Next day the circus boys dropped into their old routine life
and applied themselves to their studies, at the same time looking
forward to the day when the grass should grow green again and the
little red wagons roll out for their summer journeyings.
Here we will leave them.  But Phil and his companion will be
heard from again in a following volume, to be published
immediately, entitled, "THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT; Or,
Winning New Laurels on the Tanbark."  In this volume their
thrilling adventures under the billowing canvas are to be
continued, leading them on to greater triumphs and successes.
This Etext was prepared for Project Gutenberg by Greg Berckes
The Circus Boys Across The Continent
Winning New Laurels on the Tanbark
by Edgar B. P. Darlington
I     The Boys Hear Good News
II    On The Road Once More
III   Phil to Rescue
IV    Renewing Old Acquaintances
V     Doing a Man's Work
VI    The Showman's Reward
VII   Trying The Culprit
VIII  Phil Makes a New Friend
IX    The Mule Distinguishes Himself
X     His First Bareback Lesson
XI    Summoned Before The Manager
XII   The Human Football
XIII  Ducked by an Elephant
XIV   In Dire Peril
XV    Emperor to The Rescue
XVI   An Unexpected Promotion
XVII  The Circus Boys Win New Laurels
XVIII Doing a Double Somersault
XIX   Marooned in a Freight Car
XX    The Barnyard Circus
XXI   When The Crash Came
XXII  What Happened to a Pacemaker
XXIII Searching The Train
XXIV  Conclusion
The Circus Boys Across the Continent
THE BOYS HEAR GOOD NEWS
"You never can guess it--you never can guess the news, Teddy,"
cried Phil Forrest, rushing into the gymnasium, his face flushed
with excitement.
Teddy Tucker, clad in a pair of linen working trunks and a
ragged, sleeveless shirt, both garments much the worse for their
winter's wear, was lazily swinging a pair of Indian clubs.
"What is it, some kind of riddle, Phil?" he questioned, bringing
the clubs down to his sides.
"Do be serious for a minute, won't you?"
"Me, serious?  Why, I never cracked a smile.  Isn't anything to
smile at.  Besides, do you know, since I've been in the circus
business, every time I want to laugh I check myself so suddenly
that it hurts?"
"How's that?"
"Because I think I've still got my makeup on and that I'll crack
it if I laugh."
"What, your face?"
"My face?  No!  My makeup.  By the time I remember that I haven't
any makeup on I've usually forgotten what it was I wanted to
laugh about.  Then I don't laugh."
Teddy shied an Indian club at a rat that was scurrying across the
far end of their gymnasium, missing him by half the width of
the building.
"If you don't care, of course I shan't tell you.  But it's good
news, Teddy.  You would say so if you knew it."
"What news?  Haven't heard anything that sounds like news,"
his eyes fixed on the hole into which the rat had disappeared.
"You can't guess where we are going this summer?"
"Going?  Don't have to guess.  I know," answered the lad with an
emphasizing nod.
"Where do you think?"
"We're going out with the Great Sparling Combined Shows,
of course.  Didn't we sign out for the season before we closed
with the show last fall?"
"Yes, yes; but where?" urged Phil, showing him the letter he
had just brought from the post office.  "You couldn't guess if
"No.  Never was a good guesser.  That letter from Mr. Sparling?"
he questioned, as his eyes caught the familiar red and gold
heading used by the owner of the show.
"What's he want?"
"You know I wrote to him asking that we be allowed to skip the
rehearsals before the show starts out, so that we could stay here
and take our school examinations?"
Teddy nodded.
"I'd rather join the show," he grumbled.
"Never did see anything about school to go crazy over."
"You'll thank me someday for keeping you at it," said Phil.
"See how well you have done this winter with your school work.
I'm proud of you.  Why, Teddy, there are lots of the boys a long
way behind you.  They can't say circus boys don't know anything
just because they perform in a circus ring."
"H-m-m-m!" mused Teddy.  "You haven't told me yet where we are
going this summer.  What's the route?"
"Mr. Sparling says that, as we are going to continue our
last year's acts this season, there will be no necessity
for rehearsals."
The announcement did not appear to have filled Teddy Tucker
"We do the flying rings again, then?"
"Yes.  And we shall be able to give a performance that will
surprise Mr. Sparling.  Our winter's practicing has done a lot
for us, as has our winter at school."
"Oh, I don't know."
"You probably will ride the educated mule again, while I expect
to ride the elephant Emperor in the grand entry, as I did before.
I'll be glad to get under the big top again, with the noise and
the people, the music of the band and all that.  Won't you,
questioned Phil, his eyes glowing at the picture he had drawn.
Teddy heaved a deep sigh.
" 'Cause you make me think I'm there now."
Phil laughed softly.
"I can see myself riding the educated mule this very minute,
kicking up the dust of the ring, making everybody get out of the
"And falling off," laughed Phil.  "You certainly are the
most finished artist in the show when it comes to getting
into trouble."
"Yes; I seem to keep things going," grinned the lad.
"But I haven't told you all that Mr. Sparling says in
the letter."
"What else does he say?"
"That the show is to start from its winter quarters, just outside
of Germantown, Pennsylvania, on April twenty-second--"
"Let's see; just two weeks from today," nodded Teddy.
"I wish it was today."
"He says we are to report on the twenty-first, as the show leaves
early in the evening."
"Where do we show first?"
"Atlantic City.  Then we take in the Jersey Coast towns--"
"Do we go to New York?"
"New York?  Oh, no!  The show isn't big enough for New York quite
yet, even if it is a railroad show now.  We've got to grow some
before that.  Mighty few shows are large enough to warrant taking
them into the big city."
"How do you know?"
"All the show people say that."
"Pshaw!  I'd sure make a hit in New York with the mule."
"Time enough for that later.  You and I will yet perform in
Madison Square Garden.  Just put that down on your route card,
Teddy Tucker."
"Humph!  If we don't break our necks before that!  Where did you
say we were--"
"After leaving New Jersey, we are to play through New York State,
taking in the big as well as the small towns, and from Buffalo
heading straight west.  Mr. Sparling writes that we are going
across the continent."
"Says he's going to make the Sparling Shows known from the
Atlantic to the Pacific--"
"Across the continent!" exclaimed Teddy unbelievingly.
"No; you're fooling."
"Yes; clear to the Pacific Coast.  We're going to
San Francisco, too.  What do you think of that, Teddy?"
"Great!  Wow!  Whoop!" howled the boy, hurling his remaining
Indian Club far up among the rafters of the gymnasium, whence it
came clattering down, both lads laughing gleefully.
"We're going to see the country this time, and we shan't have to
sleep out in an open canvas wagon, either."
"Where shall we sleep?"
"Probably in a car."
"It won't be half so much fun," objected Teddy.
"I imagine the life will be different.  Perhaps we shall not have
so much fun, but we'll have the satisfaction of knowing that we
are part of a real show.  It will mean a lot to us to be with an
organization like that.  It will give us a better standing in the
profession, and possibly by another season we may be able to get
with one of the really big ones.  Next spring, if we have good
luck, we shall have finished with our school here.  If they'll
have us, we'll try to join out with one of them.  In the meantime
we must work hard, Teddy, so we shall be in fine shape when we
join out two weeks from today.  Come on; I'll wrestle you a
"Done," exclaimed Teddy.
Phil promptly threw off his coat and vest.  A few minutes later
the lads were struggling on the wrestling mat, their faces
dripping with perspiration, their supple young figures twisting
and turning as each struggled for the mastery of the other.
The readers of the preceding volume in this series, entitled,
THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS, will recognize Phil and
at once as the lads who had so unexpectedly joined the Sparling
Combined Shows the previous summer.  It was Phil who, by his
ready resourcefulness, saved the life of the wife of the owner of
the show as well as that of an animal trainer later on.  Then,
it will be remembered how the lad became the fast friend of the
great elephant Emperor, which he rescued from "jail," and with
which he performed in the ring to the delight of thousands.
Ere the close of the season both boys had won their way to the
flying rings, thus becoming full-fledged circus performers.
Before leaving the show they had signed out for another season
at a liberal salary.
With their savings, which amounted to a few hundred dollars, the
boys had returned to their home at Edmeston, there to put in the
winter at school.
That they might lose nothing of their fine physical condition,
the Circus Boys had rented an old carpenter shop, which they
rigged up as a gymnasium, fitting it with flying rings, trapeze
bars and such other equipment as would serve to keep them in trim
for the coming season's work.
Here Phil and Teddy had worked long hours after school.
During the winter they had gained marked improvement in
their work, besides developing some entirely new acts on
the flying rings.  During this time they had been living with
Mrs. Cahill, who, it will be remembered, had proved herself a
real friend to the motherless boys.
Now, the long-looked-for day was almost at hand when they should
once more join the canvas city for a life in the open.
The next two weeks were busy ones for the lads, with their
practice and the hard study incident to approaching examinations.
Both boys passed with high standing.  Books were put away,
gymnasium apparatus stored and one sunlit morning two slender,
manly looking young fellows, their faces reflecting perfect
health and happiness, were at the railroad station waiting for
the train which should bear them to the winter quarters of
Fully half the town had gathered to see them off, for Edmeston
was justly proud of its Circus Boys.  As the train finally drew
up and the lads clambered aboard, their school companions set up
a mighty shout, with three cheers for the Circus Boys.
"Don't stick your head in the lion's mouth, Teddy!" was the
parting salute Phil and Teddy received from the boys as the train
"Well, Teddy, we're headed for the Golden Gate at last!"
glowed Phil.
"You bet!" agreed Teddy with more force than elegance.
"I wonder if old Emperor will remember me, Teddy?"
"Sure thing!  But, do you think that 'fool mule,' as Mr. Sparling
calls him, will remember me?  Or will he want to kick me full of
holes before the season has really opened?"
"I shouldn't place too much dependence on a mule," laughed Phil.
"Come on; let's go inside and sit down."
ON THE ROAD ONCE MORE
All was bustle and excitement.
Men were rushing here and there, shouting out hoarse commands.
Elephants were trumpeting shrilly, horses neighing; while, from
many a canvas-wrapped wagon savage beasts of the jungle were
emitting roar upon roar, all voicing their angry protest at being
removed from the winter quarters where they had been at rest for
the past six months.
The Great Sparling Combined Shows were moving out for their long
summer's journey.  The long trains were being rapidly loaded when
Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker arrived on the scene late in
the afternoon.
It was all new and strange to them, unused as they were to the
ways of a railroad show.  Their baggage had been sent on ahead of
them, so they did not have that to bother with.  Each carried a
suitcase, however, and the boys were now trying to find someone
in authority to ask where they should go and what they should do.
"Hello, Phil, old boy!" howled a familiar voice.
"Who's that?" demanded Teddy.
"Why, it's Rod Palmer, our working mate on the rings!" cried
Phil, dropping his bag and darting across the tracks, where he
had espied a shock of very red hair that he knew could belong
only to Rodney Palmer.
Teddy strolled over with rather more dignity.
"Howdy?" he greeted just as Phil and the red-haired boy were
wringing each other's hands.  "Anybody'd think you two were long
lost brothers."
"We are, aren't we, Rod?" glowed Phil.
"And we have been, ever since you boys showed me the brook where
I could wash my face back in that tank town where you two lived.
That was last summer.  Seems like it was yesterday."
"Yes, and we work together again, I hear?  I'm glad of that.
I guess you've been doing something this winter," decided Rodney,
after a critical survey of the lads.  "You sure are both in
fine condition.  Quite a little lighter than you were last
season, aren't you, Phil?"
"No; I weigh ten pounds more."
"Then you must be mighty hard."
"Hard as a keg of nails, but I hope not quite so stiff,"
laughed Phil.
"What you been working at?"
"Rings, mostly.  We've done some practicing on the trapeze.
What did you do all winter?"
"Me?  Oh, I joined a team that was playing vaudeville houses.
I was the second man in a ring act.  Made good money and saved
most of it.  Why didn't you join out for the vaudeville?"
"We spent our winter at school," answered Phil.
"That's a good stunt at that.  In the tank town, I suppose?"
grinned the red-haired boy.
"You might call it that, but it's a pretty good town, just the
same," replied Phil.  "I saw many worse ones while we were out
last season."
"And you'll see a lot more this season.  Wait till we get to
playing some of those way-back western towns.  I was out there
with a show once, and I know what I'm talking about.  Where are
you berthed?"
"I don't know," answered Phil.  "Where are you?"
"Car number fourteen.  Haven't seen the old man, then?"
"Mr. Sparling?  No.  And I want to see him at once.  Where shall
I find him?"
"He was here half an hour ago.  Maybe he's in his office."
"Where is that?"
"Private car number one.  Yes; the old man has his own elegant
car this season.  He's living high, I tell you.  No more sleeping
out in an old wagon that has no springs.  It will be great to get
into a real bed every night, won't it?"
Teddy shook his head doubtfully.
"I don't know 'bout that."
"I should think it would be pretty warm on a hot night,"
nodded Phil.
"And what about the rainy nights?" laughed Rodney.  "Taking it
altogether, I guess I'll take the Pullman for mine--"
"There goes Mr. Sparling now," interjected Teddy.
"Just climbing aboard a car.  See him?"
"That's number one," advised Rodney.  "Better skip, if you want
to catch him.  He's hard to land today.  There's a lot for him to
look after."
"Yes; come on, Teddy.  Get your grip," said Phil, hurrying over
to where he had dropped his suitcase.
"But it's going to be a great show," called Rodney.
"Especially the flying-ring act," laughed Phil.
A few minutes later both boys climbed aboard the private car,
and, leaving their bags on the platform, pushed open the door
and entered.
Mr. Sparling was seated at a roll-top desk in an office-like
compartment, frowning over some document that he held in
The boys waited until he should look up.  He did so suddenly,
peering at them from beneath his heavy eyebrows.  Phil was not
sure, from the showman's expression, whether he had recognized
them or not.  Mr. Sparling answered this question almost at once.
"How are you, Forrest?  Well, Tucker, I suppose you've come back
primed to put my whole show to the bad, eh?"
"Maybe," answered Teddy carelessly.
"Oh, maybe, eh?  So that's the way the flag's blowing, is it?
Well, you let me catch you doing it and--stand up here, you two,
and let me look at you."
He gazed long and searchingly at the Circus Boys, noting every
line of their slender, shapely figures.
"You'll do," he growled.
"Yes, sir," answered Phil, smiling.
"Shake hands."
Mr. Sparling thrust out both hands toward them with almost
disconcerting suddenness.
"Ouch!" howled Teddy, writhing under the grip the showman gave
him, but if Phil got a pressure of equal force he made no sign.
"Where's your baggage?"
"We sent our trunks on yesterday.  I presume they are here
somewhere, sir."
"If they're not in your car, let me know."
"If you will be good enough to tell me where our car is I will
find out at once."
The showman consulted a typewritten list.
"You are both in car number eleven.  The porter will show you the
berths that have been assigned to you, and I hope you will both
obey the rules of the cars."
"Oh, yes, sir," answered Phil.
"I know you will, but I'm not so sure of your fat friend here.
I think it might be a good plan to tie him in his berth, or he'll
be falling off the platform some night, get under the wheels and
wreck the train."
"I don't walk in my sleep," answered Teddy.
"Oh, you don't?"
Mr. Sparling frowned; then his face broke out into a broad smile.
"I always said you were hopeless.  Run along, and get
settled now.  You understand that you will keep your berth
all season, don't you?"
"Yes, sir.  What time do we go out?"
"One section has already gone.  The next and last will leave
tonight about ten o'clock.  We want to make an early start, for
the labor is all green.  It'll take three times as long to put up
the rag as usual."
"The rag?  What's the rag?" questioned Teddy.
"Beg pardon," mocked Mr. Sparling.  "I had forgotten that you are
still a Reuben.  A rag is a tent, in show parlance."
"Any orders after we get settled?" asked Phil.
"Nothing for you to do till parade time tomorrow.  You will look
to the same executives that you did last year.  There has been no
change in them."
The lads hurried from the private car, and after searching about
the railroad yard for fully half an hour they came upon car
number eleven.  This was a bright, orange-colored car with the
name of the Sparling Shows painted in gilt letters near the roof,
just under the eaves.  The smell of fresh paint was everywhere,
but the wagons being covered with canvas made it impossible for
them to see how the new wagons looked.  There were many of these
loaded on flat cars, with which the railroad yard seemed to
"Looks bigger than Barnum & Bailey's," nodded Teddy,
feeling a growing pride that he was connected with so great
an organization.
"Not quite, I guess," replied Phil, mounting the platform of
number eleven.
The boys introduced themselves to the porter, who showed them
to their berths.  These were much like those in the ordinary
sleeper, except that the upper berths had narrow windows looking
out from them.  Across each berth was stretched a strong piece
Phil asked the porter what the string was for.
"To hang your trousers on, sah," was the enlightening answer.
"There's hooks for the rest of your clothes just outside
the berths."
"This looks pretty good to me," said Phil, peering out through
the screened window of his berth.
"Reminds me of when I used to go to sleep in the woodbox behind
the stove where I lived last year in Edmeston," grumbled Teddy
in a muffled voice, as he rummaged about his berth trying to
accustom himself to it.  Teddy never had ridden in a sleeping
car, so it was all new and strange to him.
"Say, who sleeps upstairs?" he called to the porter.
"The performers, sah--some of them.  This heah is the performers'
"How do they get up there?  On a rope ladder?"
Phil shouted.
"You ninny, this isn't a circus performance.  No; of course they
don't climb up on a rope ladder as if they were starting a
trapeze act."
"How, then?"
"The porter brings out a little step ladder, and it's just like
walking upstairs, only it isn't."
"Huh!" grunted Teddy.  "Do they have a net under them all night?"
"A net?  What for?"
"Case they fall out of bed."
"Put him out!" shouted several performers who were engaged in
settling themselves in their own quarters.  "He's too new for
this outfit."
Phil drew his companion aside and read him a lecture on not
asking so many questions, advising Teddy to keep his ears and
eyes open instead.
Teddy grumbled and returned to the work of unpacking his bag.
Inquiry for their trunks developed the fact that they would have
to look for these in the baggage car; that no trunks were allowed
in the sleepers.
Everything about the car was new and fresh, the linen white and
clean, while the wash room, with its mahogany trimmings, plate
glass mirrors and upholstered seats, was quite the most elaborate
thing that Teddy had ever seen.
He called to Phil to come and look at it.
"Yes, it is very handsome.  I am sure we shall get to be very
fond of our home on wheels before the season is ended.  I'm going
out now to see if our trunks have arrived."
Phil, after some hunting about, succeeded in finding the baggage
man of the train, from whom he learned that the trunks had
arrived and were packed away in the baggage car.
By this time night had fallen.  With it came even greater
confusion, while torches flared up here and there to light the
scene of bustle and excitement.
It was all very confusing to Phil, and he was in constant fear of
being run down by switching engines that were shunting cars back
and forth as fast as they were loaded, rapidly making up the
circus train.  The Circus Boy wondered if he ever could get used
to being with a railroad show.
"I must be getting back or I shall not be able to find number
eleven," decided Phil finally.  "I really haven't the least idea
where it is now."
The huge canvas-covered wagons stood up in the air like a
procession of wraiths of the night, muttered growls and guttural
coughs issuing from their interiors.  All this was disturbing to
one not used to it.
Phil started on a run across the tracks in search of his car.
In the meantime Teddy Tucker, finding himself alone, had
sauntered forth to watch the loading, and when he ventured abroad
trouble usually followed.
The lad soon became so interested in the progress of the work
that he was excitedly shouting out orders to the men, offering
suggestions and criticisms of the way they were doing that work.
Now, most of the men in the labor gang were new--that is, they
had not been with the Sparling show the previous season, and
hence did not know Teddy by sight.  After a time they tired of
his running fire of comment.  They had several times roughly
warned him to go on about his business.  But Teddy did not heed
their advice, and likewise forgot all about that which Phil had
given him earlier in the evening.
He kept right on telling the men how to load the circus, for,
if there was one thing in the world that Teddy Tucker loved more
than another it was to "boss" somebody.
All at once the lad felt himself suddenly seized from behind and
lifted off his feet.  At the same time a rough hand was clapped
over his mouth.
The Circus Boy tried to utter a yell, but he found it impossible
for him to do so.  Teddy kicked and fought so vigorously that it
was all his captor could do to hold him.
"Come and help me.  We'll fix the fresh kid this time," called
the fellow in whose grip the lad was struggling.
"What's the matter, Larry?  Is he too much for you?" laughed the
"He's the biggest little man I ever got my fists on.  Gimme a
"What are you going to do with him?"
"I'll show you in a minute."
"Maybe he's with the show.  He's slippery enough to be
a performer."
"No such thing.  And I don't care if he is.  I'll teach him not
to interfere with the men.  Grab hold and help me carry him."
Together they lifted the kicking, squirming, fighting boy,
carrying him on down the tracks, not putting him down until they
had reached the standpipe of a nearby water tank, where the
locomotives took on their supply of fresh water.
"Jerk that spout around!" commanded Larry, sitting down on Tucker
with a force that made the lad gasp.
"Can't reach the chain."
"Then get a pike pole, and be quick about it.  The foreman will
be looking for us first thing we know.  If he finds us here he'll
fire us before we get started."
"See here, Larry, what are you going to do?" demanded the
other suspiciously.
"My eyes, but you're inquisitive!  Going to wash the kid down.
Next time mebby he won't be so fresh."
And "wash" they did.
Suddenly the full stream from the standpipe spurted down.
Larry promptly let go of his captive.  Teddy was right in the
path of the downpour, and the next instant he was struggling in
The showman dropped him and started to run.
Teddy let out a choking howl, grasping frantically for his
A moment later the lad's hands closed over Larry's ankles, and
the man was able to free himself from the boy's grip Teddy had
him down and dragged him under the stream that was pouring down
perfect deluge.  The Circus Boy, being strong and muscular, was
to accomplish this with slight exertion.
Larry's companion was making no effort to assist his fallen
Instead, the fellow was howling with delight.
No sooner, however, had Teddy raised the man and slammed him down
on his back under the spout, than the lad let go of his victim
and darted off into the shadows.  Teddy realized that it was high
time he was leaving.
The man, fuming with rage, uttering loud-voiced threats of
vengeance, scrambled out of the flood and began rushing up and
down the tracks in search of Teddy.
But the boy was nowhere to be found.  He had hastily climbed over
a fence, where he crouched, dripping wet, watching the antics of
the enraged Larry.
"Guess he won't bother another boy right away," grinned Teddy,
not heeding his own wet and bedraggled condition.
The two showmen finally gave up their quest, and all at once
started on a run in the opposite direction.
"Now, I wonder what's made them run away like that?  Surely they
aren't scared of me.  I wonder?  Guess I'll go over and
Leaving his hiding place, the lad retraced his steps across the
tracks until finally, coming up with a man, who proved to be the
superintendent of the yard, Teddy asked him where sleeping car
number eleven was located.
"Eleven?  The sleepers have all gone, young man."
"But I thought--"
"Went out regular on the 9:30 express."
Teddy groaned.  Here he was, left behind before the show
had all gotten away from its winter quarters.  But he noted
that the train bearing the cages and other equipment was still
in the yard.  There was yet a chance for him.
"Wha--what time does that train go?" he asked pointing to the
last section.
"Going now.  Why, what's the matter with you youngster?
The train is moving now."
"Going?  The matter is that I've got to go with them," cried the
lad, suddenly darting toward the moving train.
"Come back here!  Come back!  Do you want to be killed?"
"I've got to get on that train!" Teddy shouted back at
the superintendent.
The great stock cars were rumbling by as the boy drew near the
track, going faster every moment.  By the light of a switch lamp
Teddy could make out a ladder running up to the roof of one of
the box cars.
He could hear the yard superintendent running toward
him shouting.
"He'll have me, if I don't do something.  Then I will be wholly
left," decided Teddy.  "I'm going to try it."
As the big stock car slipped past him the lad sprang up into the
air, his eyes fixed on the ladder.  His circus training came in
handy here, for Teddy hit the mark unerringly, though it had been
considerably above his head.  The next second his fingers closed
over a rung of the ladder, and there he hung, dangling in the
air, with the train now rushing over switches, rapidly gaining
momentum as it stretched out headed for the open country.
PHIL TO RESCUE
Phil Forrest was in a panic of uneasiness.
No sooner had his own section started than he made the discovery
that Teddy Tucker was not on board.  Then the lad went through
the train in the hope that his companion had gotten on the
wrong car.  There was no trace of Teddy.
In the meantime Teddy had slowly clambered to the roof of the
stock car, where he stretched himself out, clinging to the
running board, with the big car swaying beneath him.  The wind
seemed, up there, to be blowing a perfect gale, and it was all
the boy could do to hold on.  After a while he saw a light
approaching him.  The light was in the hands of a brakeman who
was working his way over the train toward the caboose.
He soon came up to where Teddy was lying.  There he stopped.
"Well, youngster, what are you doing here?" he demanded, flashing
his light into the face of the uncomfortable Teddy.
"Trying to ride."
"I suppose you know you are breaking the law and that I'll have
to turn you over to a policeman or a constable the next town we
"Nothing of the sort!  What do you take me for?  Think I'm some
kind of tramp?" objected the lad.  "Go on and let me alone."
The brakeman looked closer.  He observed that the boy was soaking
wet, but that, despite this, he was well dressed.
"What are you, if not a tramp?"
"I'm with the show."
The brakeman laughed long and loud, but Teddy was more interested
in the man's easy poise on the swaying car than in what he said.
"Wish I could do that," muttered the lad admiringly.
"What's that?"
"Nothing, only I was thinking out loud."
"Well, you'll get off at the next stop unless you can prove that
you belong here."
"I won't," protested Teddy stubbornly.
"We'll see about that.  Come down here on the flat car behind
this one, and we'll find out.  I see some of the show people
Besides, you're liable to fall off here and get killed.  Come
"I'll fall off if I try to get up."
"And you a showman?" laughed the brakeman satirically, at the
same time grabbing Teddy by the coat collar and jerking him to
The trainman did not appear to mind the giddy swaying of the
stock car.  He permitted Teddy to walk on the running board while
he himself stepped carelessly along on the sloping roof of the
car, though not relaxing his grip on the collar of Teddy Tucker.
Bidding the boy to hang to the brake wheel, the brakeman began
climbing down the end ladder, so as to catch Teddy in case he
were to fall.  After him came the Circus Boy, cautiously picking
his way down the ladder.
"Any of you fellows know this kid?" demanded the trainman,
flashing his lantern into Teddy's face.  "He says he's with
"Put him off!" howled one of the roustabouts who had been
sleeping on the flat car under a cage.  "Never saw him before."
"You sit down there, young man.  Next stop, off you go,"
announced the brakeman sternly.
"I'll bet you I don't," retorted Teddy Tucker aggressively.
"We'll see about that."
"Quit your music; we want to go to sleep," growled a showman
The brakeman put down his lantern and seated himself on the side
of the flat car.  He did not propose to leave the boy until he
had seen him safely off the train.
"How'd you get wet?" questioned Tucker's captor.
"Some fellows ducked me."
The trainman roared, which once more aroused the ire of the
roustabouts who were trying to sleep.
They had gone on for an hour, when finally the train slowed down.
"Here's where you hit the ties," advised the brakeman,
peering ahead.
"Where are we?"
"McQueen's siding.  We stop here to let an express by.  And I
want to tell you that it won't be healthy for you if I catch you
on this train again.  Now, get off!"
Teddy making no move to obey, the railroad man gently but firmly
assisted him over the side of the car, dropping him down the
embankment by the side of the track.
"I'll make you pay for this if I ever catch you again,"
threatened Teddy from the bottom of the bank, as he scrambled to
Observing that the trainman was holding his light over the side
of the car and peering down at him, Teddy ran along on all fours
until he was out of sight of the brakeman, then he straightened
up and ran toward the rear of the train as fast as his feet would
carry him, while the railroad man began climbing over the cars
again, headed for the caboose at the rear.
Teddy had gained the rear of the train by this time, but he did
not show himself just yet.  He waited until the flagman had come
in, and until the fellow who had put him off had disappeared in
the caboose.
At that, Teddy sprang up, and, swinging to the platform of the
caboose, quickly climbed the iron ladder that led to the roof of
the little boxlike car.  He had no sooner flattened himself on
the roof than the train began to move again.
Only one more stop was made during the night and that for water.
Just before daylight they rumbled into the yards at Atlantic
City, and Teddy scrambled from his unsteady perch, quickly
clambering down so as to be out of the way before the trainmen
should discover his presence.
But quickly as he had acted, he had not been quick enough.
The trainman who had put him off down the line collared the lad
the minute his feet touched the platform of the caboose.
"You here again?" he demanded sternly.
Teddy grinned sheepishly.
"I told you you couldn't put me off."
"We'll see about that.  Here, officer."  He beckoned to a
"This kid has been stealing a ride.  I put him off once.  I turn
over to you now."
"All right.  Young man, you come with me!"
Teddy protested indignantly, but the officer, with a firm grip on
his arm, dragged the lad along with him.  They proceeded on up
the tracks toward the station, the lad insisting that he was with
the show and that he had a right to ride wherever he pleased.
"Teddy!" shouted a voice, just as they stepped on the long
platform that led down to the street.
"Phil!" howled the lad.  "Come and save me!  A policeman's got me
and he's taking me to jail."
Phil Forrest ran to them.
"Here, here!  What's this boy done?" he demanded.
RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCES
"Well, Teddy, I must say you have made a good start," grinned
Phil, after necessary explanations had been made and the young
Circus Boy had been released by the policeman who had him
in tow."  A few minutes more and you would have been in a
police station.  I can imagine how pleased Mr. Sparling would
have been to hear that."
Teddy hung his head.
"Your clothes are a sight, too.  How did--what happened?
Did you fall in a creek, or something of that sort?"
The lad explained briefly how he had been captured by the two men
and ducked under the standpipe of the water tank.
"But I soaked him, too," Tucker added triumphantly."  And I'm
going to soak him again.  The first man I come across whose name
is Larry is going to get it from me," threatened the lad, shaking
his fist angrily.
"You come over to the sleeper with me and get into some decent
looking clothes.  I'm ashamed of you, Teddy Tucker."
"So am I," grinned the boy as they turned to go, Phil leading
the way to the car number eleven, from which the performers
were beginning to straggle, rubbing their eyes and
stretching themselves.
The change of clothing having been made, the lads started for the
lot, hoping that they might find the old coffee stand and have a
cup before breakfast.  To their surprise, upon arriving at the
lot, they found the cook tent up and the breakfast cooking.
"Why, how did you ever get this tent here and up so quickly?"
asked Phil after they had greeted their old friend of the
"Came in on the flying squadron.  This is a railroad show now,
you know," answered the head steward, after greeting the boys.
"Flying squadron?  What's that?" demanded Teddy, interested
"The flying squadron is the train that goes out first.
It carries the cook tent and other things that will be
needed first.  We didn't have that last year.  You'll find a lot
of new things, and some that you won't like as well as you did
when we had the old road show.  What's your act this year?"
"Same as last."
"Yes, and the rings.  My friend Teddy I expect will ride the
educated mule again."
While they were talking the steward was preparing a pot of
steaming coffee for them, which he soon handed over to the lads
with a plate of wafers, of which they disposed in short order.
It was broad daylight by this time, and the boys decided to go
out and watch the erection of the tents.  It was all new and full
of interest to them.  As they caught the odor of trampled grass
and the smell of the canvas their old enthusiasm came back to
them with added force.
"It's great to be a circus man, isn't it, Phil?" breathed Teddy.
"It is unless one is getting into trouble all the time, the way
you do.  I expect that, some of these days, you'll get something
you don't want."
"Oh, I don't know.  But I am sure it will be something
quite serious."
"You better look out for yourself," growled Teddy.  "I'll take
care of myself."
"Yes; the way you did last night," retorted Phil, with a
hearty laugh.  "Come on, now; let's not quarrel.  I want to find
some of our old friends.  Isn't that Mr. Miaco over there by the
dressing tent?"
Both lads ran toward their old friend, the head clown, with
outstretched hands, and Mr. Miaco, seeing them coming, hastened
forward to greet them.
"Well, well, boys!  How are you?"
"Oh, we're fine," glowed Phil.  "And we are glad to be back
again, let me tell you."
"No more so than your old friends are to have you back.
Same old act?"
"What have you boys been doing this winter?"
"Studying and exercising."
"Yes; I knew, from your condition, that you have been keeping up
your work.  Got anything new?"
"Not much.  Trapeze."
"Good!  I'll bet you will be in some of the flying-bar acts
before the season is over.  We have a lot of swell performers
this season."
"So I have heard.  Who are some of them?"
"Well, there's the Flying Four."
"Who are they?" questioned Teddy.
"Trapeze performers.  They're great--the best in the business.
And then there's The Limit."
"Talk United States," demanded Teddy.  "The Limit?  Whoever heard
"In other words, the Dip of Death."
Teddy shook his head helplessly.
"That is the somersaulting automobile.  A pretty young woman
rides in it, and some fine day she won't.  I never did like those
freak acts.  But the public does," sighed the old circus man.
"The really difficult feats, that require years of practice,
patrons don't seem to give a rap for.  But let somebody do a
stunt in which he is in danger of suddenly ending his life, then
you'll see the people howl with delight.  I sometimes think they
would be half tickled to death to see some of us break our necks.
There's a friend of yours, Phil."
"Emperor, the old elephant that you rode last year.  They are
taking him to the menagerie tent."
"Whistle to him, Phil," suggested Teddy.
Phil uttered a low, peculiar whistle.
The big elephant's ears flapped.  The procession that he was
leading came to a sudden stop and Emperor trumpeted shrilly.
"He hasn't forgotten me," breathed Phil happily.  "Dear old
"Pipe him up again," urged Teddy.
"No; I wouldn't dare.  He would be likely to break away from
Mr. Kennedy and might trample some of the people about here.
See, Mr. Kennedy is having his troubles as it is."
"Done any tumbling since you closed last fall?" questioned
"We have practiced a little.  I want to learn, if you will
"Why, you can tumble already, Phil."
"Yes; but I want to do something better--the springboard."
"They've got a leaping act this year."
"Performers and clowns leap over a herd of elephants.
You've seen the act, haven't you?"
"Oh, yes; I know what it is.  I wish I were able to do it."
"You will be.  It is not difficult, only one has to have a
natural bent for it.  Now, your friend Teddy ought to make a
fine leaper."
"I am," interposed Teddy pompously.  "I always was."
"Yes; you're the whole show from your way of thinking," laughed
Mr. Miaco.  "I must go see if my trunk is placed.  See you
later, boys."
After leaving the clown, the lads strolled about the lot.  They
discovered that the Sparling Shows was a big organization.  The
had been very much enlarged and the canvas looked new and white.
In the menagerie tent the boys found many new cages, gorgeous in
red and gold, with a great variety of animals that had not been
in the show the previous summer.
Emperor's delight at seeing his little friend again was expressed
in loud trumpetings, and his sinuous trunk quickly found its way
into Phil Forrest's pocket in search of sweets.  And Emperor was
not disappointed.  In one coat pocket he found a liberal supply
of candy, while the other held a bag of peanuts, to all of which
the big elephant helped himself freely until no more was left.
"Have you got my trappings ready, Mr. Kennedy?" asked Phil
of the keeper.
"You'll find the stuff in fine shape.  The old man has had a new
bonnet made for Emperor and a new blanket.  He'll be right smart
when he enters the ring today.  Been over to the cook tent yet?"
"Yes; but not for breakfast.  We are going soon now.  We want to
see them raise the big top first."
When the boys had passed out into the open they observed the
big circus tent rising slowly from the ground where it had been
laid out, the various pieces laced together by nimble fingers.
Mr. Sparling was on the lot watching everything at the same time.
This was the first time the tent had been pitched, and, as has
been said before, most of the men were green at their work.
Yet, under the boisterous prodding of the boss canvasman,
the white city was going up rapidly and with some semblance
As soon as the dome of the big top left the ground the boys
crawled under and went inside.  Here all was excitement
and confusion.  Men were shouting their commands, above which
the voice of the boss canvasman rose distinctly.
The dome of the tent by this time was halfway up the long, green
center pole, while men were hurrying in with quarter poles on
their shoulders, and which they quickly stood on end and guided
into place in the bellying canvas.
The eyes of the Circus Boys sparkled with enthusiasm.
"I wish we were up there on the rings," breathed Teddy.
"We shall be soon, old fellow," answered Phil, patting him on
the shoulder.  "And for many days after this, I hope.  Hello, I
wonder what's wrong up there?"
Phil's quick glance had caught something up near the half-raised
dome that impressed him as not being right.
"Look out aloft!" he sang out warningly.
"The key rope's going.  Grab the other line!" bellowed the
boss canvasman.
"You fools!" roared Mr. Sparling from the opposite side
of the tent, as he quickly noted what was happening.  "Run for
your lives!  You'll have the whole outfit down on your heads!"
The men fled, letting go of ropes and poles, diving for places of
safety, many of them knowing what it meant to have that big tent
collapse and descend upon them.
The man who had held the key rope was the one who had been
at fault.  Some of the new men had called to him to give them
a hand on another line, and he, a new man himself, all forgetful
of the important task that had been assigned to him, dropped the
key rope, as it is called, turning to assist his associate.
Instantly the dome of the big top began to settle with a grating
noise as the huge iron ring in the peak began slipping down the
center pole.
The key rope coiled on the ground was running out and squirming
up into the air.  Only a single coil of it remained when Phil
suddenly darted forward.  With a bound, he threw himself upon the
rope, giving it a quick twist about his arm.
The instant Phil had fastened his grip upon the rope he shot up
into the air so quickly that the onlookers failed to catch the
meaning of his sudden flight.
One pair of eyes, however, saw and understood.  They belonged to
Mr. Sparling, the owner of the show.
"The boy will he killed!" he groaned.  "Let go!"
DOING A MAN'S WORK
For one brief instant Phil Forrest's head was giddy and his
breath fairly left his body from the speed with which he was
propelled upward on the key rope.
But the lad had not for a second lost his presence of mind.
Below him was some eight feet of the rope dangling in the air.
With a sudden movement that could only have been executed by one
with unusual strength and agility, Phil let the rope slip through
his hands just enough to slacken his speed.  Instantly he threw
himself around the center pole, twisting the rope around and
around it, each twist slackening his upward flight a little.
He knew that, were his head to strike the iron ring in the dome
at the speed he was traveling, he would undoubtedly be killed.
It was as much to prevent this as to save the tent that Phil took
the action he did, though his one real thought was to save his
employer's property.
Now the rapid upward shoot had dwindled to a slow, gradual
slipping of the rope as it moved up the center pole inch by inch.
But Phil's peril was even greater than before.  The moment that
heavy iron ring began pressing down on his head and shoulders
with the weight of the canvas behind it, there would be nothing
for him to do but to let go.
A forty-foot fall to the hard ground below seemed inevitable.
Yet he did not lose his presence of mind for an instant.
"Give him a hand!" yelled the boss canvasman.
"How?  How?" shouted the canvasmen.  "We can't reach him."
"Get a net under that boy, you blockheads!" thundered Mr.
rushing over from his station.  "Don't you see he's bound to
and if he does he'll break his neck?"
The boss canvasman ordered three of his men to get the trapeze
performers' big net that lay in a heap near the ring nearest the
dressing tent, for there were two rings now in the Great Sparling
Combined Shows.
They dragged it over as quickly as possible; then willing hands
grabbed it and stretched the heavy net out.  At Mr. Sparling's
direction the four corners of the net were manned and the
safety device raised from the ground, ready to catch the lad
should he fall.
"Now let go and drop!" roared Mr. Sparling.
They heard Phil laugh from his lofty perch.
"Jump, I say!"
"What, and let the tent down on you all?"
By this time the lad had curled his feet up over his head, and
they saw that he was bracing his feet against the iron ring,
literally holding the tent up with his own powerful muscles.
Of course, as a matter of fact, Phil was holding a very small
part of the weight of the tent, but as it was, the strain
was terrific.
Hanging head down, his face flushed until it seemed as if the
blood must burst through the skin, he hung there as calmly as if
he were not in imminent peril of his life.  Then, too, there was
the danger to those below him.  If the tent should collapse some
of them would be killed, for there were now few quarter poles in
place to break the fall of the heavy canvas.
"I say, down there!" he cried, finally managing to make himself
heard above the uproar.
"Are you going to drop?" shouted Mr. Sparling.
"No; do you want me to let the tent drop on you?  If you'll all
get out there'll be fewer hurt in case I have to let go."
"That boy!" groaned the showman.
"Toss me a line and be quick about it," called Phil shrilly.
"What can you do with a line?" demanded the showman, now more
excited than he had ever been in his life.
"Give him a line!"
"A strong one," warned Phil, his voice not nearly as far reaching
as it had been.
"A line!" bellowed Mr. Sparling.  "He knows what he wants it for,
and he's got more sense than the whole bunch of us."
A coil of rope shot up.  But it missed Phil by about six feet.
Another one was forthcoming almost instantly.  This time,
however, Mr. Sparling snatched it from the hands of the showman
who had made the wild cast.
"Idiot!" he roared, pushing the man aside.
Once more the coil sailed up, unrolling as it went.  This time
Phil grasped it with his free hand, which he had liberated for
the purpose.
"Now, be careful," warned Mr. Sparling.  "I don't know what you
think you're going to do; but whatever you start you're sure
To this Phil made no reply.  He was getting too weak to talk, and
his tired body trembled.
In the end of the key rope a big loop had been formed, this
after the tent was up, was slipped over a cleat to prevent a
possibility of the rope slipping its fastenings and letting the
Phil had discovered the loop when it finally slipped up so his
one hand was pressed against the knot.
Every second the weight on his feet--on his whole body, in fact,
was getting heavier.
"If I can hold on a minute longer, I'll make it!" he muttered,
his breath coming in short, quick gasps.
What he was seeking to do was to get the rope they had tossed to
him, through the big loop.  In his effort to do so, the coil
slipped from his hands, knocking a canvasman down as it fell,
but the lad had held to the other end with a desperate grip.
Now he began working it through the loop inch by inch.  It was
a slow process, but he was succeeding even better than he
Mr. Sparling now saw what Phil's purpose was.  About the same
time the others down there made the same discovery.
They set up a cheer of approval.
"Wait!" commanded the owner of the show.  "The lad isn't out of
the woods yet.  You men on the net look lively there.  If you
don't catch him should he fall, you take my word for it, it'll go
mighty hard with you."
"We'll catch him."
"You'd better, if you know what's good for you.  Goodness, but
he's got the strength and the grit!  I never saw anything like it
in all my circus experience."
They could not help him.  There was no way by which any of them
could reach Phil, and all they could do was to stand by and do
the best they could at breaking his fall should he be forced to
let go, as it seemed that he must do soon.
Nearer and nearer crept the line toward the ground, but it was
yet far above their heads.  It was moving faster, however, as
Phil got more weight of rope through the loop, thus requiring
less effort on his part to send it along on its journey.
"Side pole!  Side pole!" shouted the boy, barely making himself
heard above the shouts below.
At first they did not catch the meaning of his words.
Mr. Sparling, of course, was the first to do so.
"That's it!  Oh, you idiots!  You wooden Indians!  You thick
Get a side pole, don't you understand?" and the owner made a dive
at the nearest man to him, whereat the fellow quickly
side-stepped
and started off on a run for the pole for which Phil had asked.
But, even then, some of the hands did not understand what he
could want of a side pole.
The instant it was brought Mr. Sparling snatched it from the
hands of the tentman.  Raising the pole, assisted by the boss
canvasman, he was able to reach the loop.  The iron spike in the
end of the pole was thrust through the loop, and by exerting
considerable pressure they were able to force the loop slowly
toward the ground.
"You'll have to hurry!  I can't hang on much longer," cried
Phil weakly.
"We'll hurry, my lad.  It won't be half a minute now," encouraged
Mr. Sparling.  "Stand by here you blockheads, ready to fall on
that rope the minute it gets within reach.  Three of you grab
hold of the coil end and pay it out gradually.  Be careful.
Watch your business."
Three men sprang to do his bidding.
"Here comes the loop!"
Ready hands grasped the dangling rope.
The two strands were quickly carried together and the weight of a
dozen men thrown on them, instantly relieving the strain on Phil
Forrest's body.
Phil had saved the big top, and perhaps a few lives at the
same time.  Now a sudden dizziness seemed to have overtaken him.
Everything appeared to be whirling about him, the big top
spinning like a giant top before his eyes.
"Slide down the rope!" commanded Mr. Sparling.
The lad slowly unwound the rope from his arm and feebly motioned
to them that they were to walk around the pole with their end so
they might hoist the iron ring to the splice of the center pole.
"Never mind anything but yourself!" ordered Mr. Sparling.
"We'll attend to this mix-up ourselves."
Very cautiously and deliberately, more from force of habit
than otherwise, the lad had let his feet down, and with them
was groping for the rope.
"Swing the line between his legs!" roared the owner.  "Going to
let him stay up there all day?"
"That's what we're trying to do," answered a tentman.
"Yes, I see you trying.  That's the trouble with you fellows.
You always think you're trying, and if you are, you never
accomplish anything.  Got, it, Phil?"
"Y--ye--yes."
Twisting his legs about the rope the boy next took a weak grip on
it with both hands, then started slowly to descend.  This he knew
how to do, so the feat was attended with no difficulty other than
the strength required, and of which he had none to spare just at
the present moment.
"Look out!" he called.  He thought he had shouted it in a
loud tone.  As a matter of fact no sound issued from his lips.
But Mr. Sparling whose eyes had been fixed upon the boy,
saw and understood.
"He's falling.  Catch him!"
Phil shot downward head first.  Yet with the instinct of the
showman he curled his head up ever so little as he half
consciously felt himself going.
THE SHOWMAN'S REWARD
Phil struck the net with a violent slap that was heard outside
the big top, though those without did not understand the meaning
of it, nor did they give it heed.
Mr. Sparling was the first to reach him.  The lad had landed on
his shoulders and then struck flat on his back, the proper way
to fall into a net.  Perhaps it was instinct that told him what
The lad was unconscious when the showman lifted him tenderly from
the net and laid him out on the ground.
"Up with that peak!" commanded Mr. Sparling.  "Get some water
and don't crowd around him!  Give the boy air!  Tucker, you hike
for the surgeon."
A shove started Teddy for the surgeon.  In the meantime
Mr. Sparling was working over Phil, seeking to bring him back
to consciousness, which he finally succeeded in doing before
the surgeon arrived.
"Did I fall?" asked Phil, suddenly opening his eyes.
"A high dive," nodded Mr. Sparling.
Phil cast his eyes up to the dome where he saw the canvas
drawing taut.  He knew that he had succeeded and he
smiled contentedly.
By the time the surgeon arrived the boy was on his feet.
"How do you feel?"
"I'm a little sore, Mr. Sparling.  But I guess I'll be fit in a
few minutes."
"Able to walk over to my tent?  If not, I'll have some of the
fellows carry you."
"Oh, no; I can walk if I can get my legs started moving.
They don't seem to be working the way they should this morning,"
laughed the lad.  "My, that tent weighs something doesn't it?"
"It does," agreed the showman.
Just then the surgeon arrived.  After a brief examination he
announced that Phil was not injured, unless, perhaps, he might
have injured himself internally by subjecting himself to the
great strain of holding up the tent.
"I think some breakfast will put me right again," decided
"Haven't you had your breakfast yet?" demanded Mr. Sparling.
"No; I guess I've been too busy."
"Come with me, then.  I haven't had mine either," said
the showman.
Linking his arm within that of the Circus Boy, Mr. Sparling
walked from the tent, not speaking again until they had reached
the manager's private tent.  This was a larger and much more
commodious affair than it had been last year.
He placed Phil in a folding easy chair, and sat down to his desk
where he began writing.
After finishing, Mr. Sparling looked up.
"Phil," he said in a more kindly tone than the lad had ever
before heard him use, "I was under a deep obligation to you
last season.  I'm under a greater one now."
"I wish you wouldn't speak of it, sir.  What I have done is
purely in the line of duty.  It's a fellow's business to be
looking out for his employer's interests.  That's what I have
always tried to do."
"Not only tried, but have," corrected Mr. Sparling.  "That's an
old-fashioned idea of yours.  It's a pity young men don't feel
more that way, these days.  But that wasn't what I wanted to say.
As a little expression of how much I appreciate your interest,
as well as the actual money loss you have saved me, I want to
make you a little present."
"Oh, no no," protested Phil.
"Here is a check which I have made out for a hundred dollars.
That will give you a little start on the season.  But it isn't
all that I am going to do for you--"
"Please, Mr. Sparling.  Believe me I do appreciate your kindness,
but I mustn't take the check.  I couldn't take the check."
"Because I haven't earned it."
"Haven't earned it?  He hasn't earned it!"
The showman threw his hands above his head in a hopeless sort of
"I should not feel that I was doing right.  I want to be
independent, Mr. Sparling.  I have plenty of money.  I have
not spent more than half of what I earned last summer.
This season I hope to lay by a whole lot, so that I shall be
quite independent."
"And so you shall, so you shall, my boy," Sparling exclaimed,
rising and smiting Phil good naturedly with the flat of his hand.
Instead of tearing up the check, however, Mr. Sparling put it in
an envelope which he directed and stamped, then thrust in his
coat pocket.
"I--I hope you understand--hope you do not feel offended,"
said Phil hesitatingly.  "I should not like to have you
misunderstand me."
"Not a bit of it, my lad.  I can't say that I have any higher
opinion of you because of your decision, but--"
Phil glanced up quickly.
"I already have as high an opinion of you as it is possible for
me to have for any human being, and--"
"Thank you.  You'll make me have a swelled head if you keep on
that way," laughed Phil.
"No danger.  You would have had one long ago, if that was
your makeup.  Have you seen Mrs. Sparling yet?"
"No, and I should like to.  May I call on her in your car?"
"Not only may, but she has commissioned me to ask you to.
I think we had better be moving over to the cook tent, now,
if we wish any breakfast.  I expect the hungry roustabouts
have about cleaned the place out by this time."
They soon arrived at the cook tent.  Here Phil left Mr. Sparling
while he passed about among the tables, greeting such of his old
acquaintances as he had not yet seen that morning.  He was
introduced to many of the new ones, all of whom had heard pretty
much everything about Phil's past achievements before he reached
their tables.  The people of a circus are much like a big family,
and everyone knows, or thinks he knows, the whole family history
of his associates.
Even Phil's plucky work in the big top, less than an hour before,
had already traveled to the cook tent, and many curious glances
were directed to the slim, modest, boy as he passed among his
friends quietly, giving them his greetings.
Teddy, on the other hand, was not saying a word.  He was
busy eating.
"How's your appetite this morning, Teddy?" questioned Phil,
sinking down on the bench beside his companion.
"Pretty fair," answered Teddy in a muffled voice.  "I began at
"Top of what?"
"Top of the bill of fare.  I've cleaned up everything halfway
down the list, and I'm going through the whole bill, even if I
have to get up and shake myself down like the miller does a bag
"Be careful, old chap.  Remember you and I have to begin our real
work today.  We shall want to be in the best of shape for our
ring act.  You won't, if you fill up as you are doing now,"
warned Phil.
"Not going to work today."
"What's that?"
"No flying rings today."
"I don't understand."
"No flying rings, I said.  Mr. Sparling isn't going to put on our
"How do you know?" asked Phil in some surprise.
"Heard him say so."
"Why, I came in with him myself less than ten minutes ago--"
"I know.  He stopped right in front of my table here to speak to
the ringmaster.  Heard him say you were not to be allowed to go
on till tomorrow.  We don't have to go in the parade today if we
don't want to, either.  But you are to ride Emperor in the
Grand Entry, and I'm to do my stunt on the educated mule."
"Pshaw, I can work today as well as I ever could," said Phil in a
disappointed tone.  "And I'm going on, too, unless Mr. Sparling
gives me distinct orders to the contrary."
Phil got the orders before he had finished his breakfast.
"Believe me, Phil, I know best," said Mr. Sparling, noting the
lad's disappointment.  "You have had a pretty severe strain this
morning, and to go on now with the excitement of the first day
added to that, I fear might be too much for you.  It might lay
you up for some weeks, and we cannot afford to have that happen,
you know.  I need you altogether too much for that."
"Very well, sir; it shall be as you wish.  I suppose I may go on
in the Grand Entry as usual?"
"Oh, yes, if you wish."
"Very well; then I'll let Mr. Kennedy know.  You had better lie
down and rest while the parade is out."
"Thank you; I hardly think that will be necessary.  I feel fit
enough for work right now."
"Such is youth and enthusiasm," mused the showman, passing on out
of the cook tent, once more to go over his arrangements, for
there were many details to be looked after on this the first day
of the show's season on the road.
Phil called on Mrs. Sparling after breakfast, receiving from the
showman's wife a most hospitable welcome.  She asked him all
about how he had spent the winter, and seemed particularly
interested in Mrs. Cahill, who was now the legal guardian of
both the boys.  Mrs. Sparling already had a letter in her pocket,
with the check for one hundred dollars which the showman had
drawn for Phil.  It was going to Mrs. Cahill to be deposited to
the lad's credit, but he would know nothing of this until the
close of the season.  After he had gone home he would find
himself a hundred dollars richer than he thought.
His call finished, Phil went out and rejoined Teddy.  Together
started back toward the dressing tent to set their trunks in
and get out such of their costumes as they would need that
afternoon and evening.  Then again, the dressing tent was really
the most attractive part of the show to all the performers.  It
here that they talked of their work and life, occasionally
new acts of a minor character, and indulged in pranks like a lot
schoolboys at recess time.
As they were passing down along the outside of the big top,
Phil noticed several laborers belonging to the show sitting
against the side wall sunning themselves.  He observed that one
of the men was eyeing Teddy and himself with rather more than
ordinary interest.
Phil did not give it a second thought, however, until suddenly
Teddy gave his arm a violent pinch.
"What is it?"
"See those fellows sitting there?"
"Yes.  What of it?"
"One of them is the fellow who ducked me under the water tank
back at Germantown."
"You don't say?  Which one?"
"Fellow with the red hair.  I heard them call him Larry as I
passed, or I might not have noticed him particularly.  His hair
is redder than Rod Palmer's.  I should think it would set him
"It certainly would seem so."
"Mister Larry has got something coming to him good and proper,
and he's going to get it, you take my word for that."
Phil laughed good naturedly.
"Please, now, Teddy, forget it.  Don't go and get into any
more mix-ups.  You'll be sending yourself back home first thing
you know.  Then it will be a difficult matter to get into any
other show if you are sent away from this one in disgrace."
"Don't you worry about me.  I'll take care of myself.  I always
do, don't I?"
"I'm afraid I can't agree to that," laughed Phil.  "I should say
that quite the contrary is the case."
Teddy fell suddenly silent as they walked on in the bright
morning light, drinking in the balmy air in long-drawn breaths.
Entering the paddock they turned sharply to the left and pushed
their way through the canvas curtains into the dressing tent.
"Hurrah for the Circus Boys," shouted someone.  "Hello Samson,
are you the strong-armed man that held the tent up by your feet?"
"Strong-footed man, you mean," suggested another.  "A
strong-armed
man uses his arms not his feet."
"Come over here and show yourself," shouted another voice.
Phil walked over and stood smilingly before them.  Nothing seemed
to disturb his persistent good nature.
"Huh, not so much!  I guess they stretched that yarn," grunted
a new performer.
"I guess not," interposed Mr. Miaco.  "I happened to see that
stunt pulled off myself.  It was the biggest thing I ever saw
a man--let alone a boy--get away with."  Then Mr. Miaco went over
the scene with great detail, while Phil stole away to his own
corner, where he busied himself bending over his trunk to hide
his blushes.
But Teddy felt no such emotion.  Almost as soon as he entered the
dressing tent he began searching about for something.  This he
soon found.  It was a pail, but he appeared to be in a hurry.
Picking up the pail he ran with it to the water barrel, that
always stands in the dressing tent, filled the pail and skulked
out as if he did not desire to attract attention.
Once outside the dressing tent Teddy ran at full speed across the
paddock and out into the big top.  A few men were working here
putting up apparatus for the performers.  They gave no heed to
the boy with the pail of water.
Teddy ran his eye along the inside of the tent, nodded and went
on to the middle section where he turned, climbing the steps to
the upper row.
Arriving there he cautiously peered out over the top of the
side wall.  What he saw evidently was not to his liking, for once
more he picked up the pail of water and ran lightly along the top
seat toward the menagerie tent.
All at once he paused, put down his pail and peered out over the
side wall again.  Nodding with satisfaction he picked up the
pail, lifted it to the top of the side wall, once more looked out
measuring the distance well, then suddenly turned the pail bottom
In his course through the big top Teddy had gathered up several
handfuls of sawdust and dirt which he had stirred well into the
water as he ran, making a pasty mess of it.
It was this mixture that he had now poured out over the
side wall.  Teddy waited only an instant to observe the effect
of the deluge that he had turned on.  Then he fled down the
rattling board seats.
Outside a sudden roar broke the stillness.  No sooner had he
reached the bottom of the seats than several men raised up the
side wall and came tumbling in, yelling like Comanche Indians.
Teddy cast one frightened look at them, then ran like
all possessed.  What he had seen was a red-haired man in the
lead, dripping wet with hair and clothes plastered with mud
and sawdust.  Larry was after the lad in full cry.
TRYING THE CULPRIT
"Stop him!" howled Larry, as he, followed by half a dozen
blue-shirted fellows, bolted into the arena in pursuit of the lad
who had emptied the pail of muddy water over him.
Teddy, still clinging to the pail, was sprinting down the
concourse as if his very life depended upon it.  A canvasman,
hearing Larry's call, and suspecting the boy was wanted for
something quite serious, rushed out, heading Teddy off.
It looked as if the lad were to be captured right here.
But Teddy Tucker was not yet at the end of his resources.  He ran
straight on as if he had not observed the canvasman.  Just as he
reached the man, and the latter's hands were stretched out to
intercept him, Teddy hurled the pail full in the fellow's face.
Then the lad darted to one side and fled toward the paddock.
The canvasman had joined the procession by this time.  Into the
dressing tent burst the boy, followed by Larry, the others having
brought up sharply just before reaching the dressing room,
knowing full well that they had no business there and that
their presence would be quickly and effectively resented.
Larry, consumed with rage, did not stop to think about this,
so he dashed on blindly to his fate.
At first the circus performers in the dressing tent could not
imagine what was going on.  Clotheslines came down, properties
were upset and in a moment the tent was in confusion.
"Stop that!" bellowed an irate performer.
Larry gave no heed to the command, and Teddy was in too big a
hurry to stop to explain.
Suddenly Phil Forrest, realizing that his little companion was in
danger, gave a leap.  He landed on Larry's back, pinioning the
fellow's arms to his sides.
"You stop that now!  You let him alone!" commanded Phil.
Before the canvasman could make an effort to free himself,
Mr. Miaco, the head clown, took a hand in the proceedings.
Throwing Phil from the tentman, Miaco jerked Larry about,
and demanded to know what he meant by intruding on the privacy
of the dressing tent in that manner.
"I want that kid," he growled.
"Put him out!" howled a voice.
"What do you want him for?"
"He--he dumped a pail of water over me.  I'll get even with him.
"How about this, Master Teddy?" questioned Mr. Miaco.
Teddy explained briefly how the fellow Larry and a companion
had ducked him under the water tank, and had ruined his clothes,
together with causing him to miss his train.
"This demands investigation," decided Mr. Miaco gravely.
"Fellows, it is evident that we had better try this man.
That is the best way to dispose of his case."
"Yes, yes; try him!" they shouted.
"Whom shall we have for judge?"
"Oscar, the midget!"
The Smallest Man on Earth was quickly boosted to the top of a
property box.
"Vot iss?" questioned the midget, his wizened, yellow little face
wrinkling into a questioning smile.
"We are going to try this fellow, Larry, and you are to be
"Yah," agreed Oscar, after which he subsided, listening to the
proceedings that followed, with grave, expressionless eyes.
It is doubtful if Oscar understood what it was all about, but his
gravity and judicial manner sent the whole dressing tent into an
uproar of merriment.
After the evidence was all in, the entire company taking part in
testifying, amid much merriment--for the performers entered into
the spirit of the trial like a lot of schoolboys--Oscar was asked
to decide what should be done with the prisoner Larry.
Oscar was at a loss to know how to answer.
"Duck him," suggested one.
This was an inspiration to Oscar.  He smiled broadly.
"Yah, dat iss."
"What iss?" demanded the Tallest Man On Earth.  "Talk
United States."
"Yah," agreed Oscar, smiling seraphically.  "Duck um."
"Larry, it is the verdict of this court that you be ducked,
as the only fitting punishment for one who has committed the
crime of laying hands on a Circus Boy.  Are we all agreed on the
punishment meted out by the dignified judge?"
"Yes, yes!" they shouted.  "The rain barrel for him."
"Men, do your duty!" cried Mr. Miaco.
"I wouldn't do that," interposed Phil.  "You haven't any more
right to duck him than he had to put Teddy under the water tank.
It isn't right."
But they gave no heed to his protests.  Willing hands
grabbed the red-headed tentman, whose kicks and struggles
availed him nothing.  Raising him over the barrel of water
they soused him in head first, ducking him again and again.
"Take him out.  You'll drown him," begged Phil.
Then they hauled Larry out, shaking the water out of him.
As soon as his coughing ceased, he threatened dire vengeance
against his assailants.
Four performers then carried their victim to the opening of the
dressing tent and threw him out bodily.
Instantly Larry's companions saw him fall at their feet, and
heard his angry explanation of the indignities that had been
heaped upon him.  There was a lively scrambling over the ground,
and the next instant a volley of stones was hurled into the
dressing tent.
Phil was just coming out on his way to the main entrance as the
row began.  A stone just grazed his cheek.  Without giving the
least heed to the assailants, he turned to cross the paddock in
order to slip out under the tent and go on about his business.
Most lads would have run under the circumstances.  Not so Phil.
His were steady nerves.
"There he is!  Grab him!" shouted Larry, catching sight of Phil
and charging that Phil had been one of those who had helped
Such was not the case, however, for instead of having taken part
in the ducking, Phil Forrest had tried to prevent it.
Larry and another man were running toward him.  The lad halted,
turned and faced them.
"What do you want of me?" he demanded.
"I'll show you what I want of you.  You started this row."
"I did nothing of the sort, sir.  You go on about your business
and I shall do the same, whether you do or not."
Phil raised the canvas and stepped out.  But no sooner had he
gotten out into the lot than the two men burst through the
flapping side wall.
The boy saw them coming and knew that he was face to face
with trouble.
He adopted a ruse, knowing full well that he could not hope
to cope with the brawny canvasmen single handed and alone.
Starting off on a run, Phil was followed instantly, as he felt
sure he would be, but managing to keep just ahead of the men and
"I've got you!"
The voice was almost at his ear.
Phil halted with unexpected suddenness and dropped on all fours.
The canvasman was too close to check his own speed.  He fell over
Phil, landing on his head and shoulders in the dirt.
The lad was up like a flash.  Larry was close upon him now, and
with a snarl of rage launched a blow full at Phil Forrest's face.
But he had not reckoned on the lad's agility, nor did he know
that Phil was a trained athlete.  Therefore, Larry's surprise was
great when his fist beat the empty air.
Thrown off his balance, Larry measured his length on the ground.
"I advise you to let me alone," warned Phil coolly, as the
tentman was scrambling to his feet.  Already Larry's companion
had gotten up and was gazing at Phil in a half dazed sort of way.
"Get hold of him, Bad Eye!  What are you standing there like a
dummy for?  He'll run in a minute."
Phil's better judgment told him to do that very thing, but he
could not bring himself to run from danger.  Much as he disliked
a row, he was too plucky and courageous to run from danger.
Bad Eye was rushing at him, his eyes blazing with anger.
Phil side-stepped easily, avoiding his antagonist without the
least difficulty.  But now he had to reckon with Larry, who,
by this time, had gotten to his feet.
It was two to one.
"Stand back unless you want to get hurt!" cried Phil, with a
warning glint in his eyes.
Larry, by way of answer, struck viciously at him.  Phil, with a
glance about him, saw that he could not expect help, for there
was no one in sight, the performers being engaged at that moment
in driving off the angry laborers, which they were succeeding in
doing with no great effort on their part.
The lad cleverly dodged the blow.  But instead of backing away
as the canvasman's fist barely grazed his cheek, Phil, with a
short arm jolt, caught his adversary on the point of his chin.
Larry instantly lost all desire for fight.  He sat down on the
hard ground with a bump.
Now Bad Eye rushed in.  Again Phil sidestepped, and, thrusting a
foot between the fellow's legs, tripped him neatly.
Half a dozen men came running from the paddock.  They were the
fellows whom the performers had put to rout.  At that moment the
bugle blew for all hands to prepare for the parade.
"I guess I have done about enough for one day," decided Phil.
"And for a sick man it wasn't a half bad job."
With an amused glance at his fallen adversaries Phil ran to the
big top, less than a rod away, and, lifting the sidewall, slipped
under and disappeared within.
CHAPTER VIII
PHIL MAKES A NEW FRIEND
"Tweetle!  Tweetle!"
Two rippling blasts from the ringmaster's whistle notified the
show people that the performance was on.  In moved the procession
for the Grand Entry, as the silken curtains separating the
paddock from the big top slowly fell apart.
Phil, from his lofty perch on the head of old Emperor, peering
through the opening of the bonnet in which he was concealed,
could not repress an exclamation of admiration.  It was a
splendid spectacle--taken from a story of ancient Rome--
that was sweeping majestically about the arena to the music
of an inspiring tune into which the big circus band had
suddenly launched.
Gayly-caparisoned, nervous horses pranced and reared; huge
wagons, gorgeous under their coat of paint and gold, glistened
in the afternoon sunlight that fell softly through the canvas top
and gave the peculiar rattling sound so familiar to the lover of
the circus as they moved majestically into the arena; elephants
trumpeted shrilly and the animals back in the menagerie tent sent
up a deafening roar of protest.  After months of quiet in their
winter quarters, this unusual noise and excitement threw the wild
beasts into a tempest of anger.  Pacing their cages with upraised
heads, they hurled their loud-voiced protests into the air until
the more timid of the spectators trembled in their seats.
It was an inspiring moment for the circus people, as well as for
the spectators.
"Tweetle!  Tweetle!" sang the ringmaster's whistle after the
spectacle had wound its way once around the concourse.
At this the procession wheeled, its head cutting between the
two rings, slowly and majestically reaching for the paddock
and dressing tent, where the performers would hurry into their
costumes for their various acts to follow.
This left only the elephants in the ring.  The huge beasts now
began their evolutions, ponderous but graceful, eliciting great
applause, as did their trainer, Mr. Kennedy.  Then came the
round-off of the act.  This, it will be remembered, was of Phil
Forrest's own invention, the act in which Phil, secreted in the
elephant's bonnet, burst out at the close of the act, and, by the
aid of wires running over a pulley above him, was able to descend
gracefully to the sawdust arena.
He was just a little nervous in this, the first performance of
the season, but, steadying his nerves, he went through the act
without a hitch and amid thunders of applause.  As in the
previous season's act, old Emperor carried the lad from the ring,
holding Phil out in front of him firmly clasped in his trunk.
No similar act ever had been seen in a circus until Phil and
Emperor worked it out for themselves.  It had become one of the
features of the show last year, and it bade fair to be equally
popular that season.  Phil had added to it somewhat, which gave
the act much more finish than before.
"Very good, young man," approved Mr. Sparling, as the elephant
bore the lad out.  Mr. Sparling was watching the show with keen
eyes in order to decide what necessary changes were to be made.
"Coming back to watch the performance?"
"Oh, yes.  I wouldn't miss that for anything."
As soon as the lad had thrown off his costume and gotten back
into his clothes, he hurried into the big top, where he found
Teddy, who did not go on in his bucking mule act until later.
"How's the show, Teddy?" greeted Phil.
"Great.  Greatest thing I ever saw.  Did you see the fellows jump
over the herd of elephants and horses?"
"No.  Who were they?"
"Oh, most all of the crowd, I guess.  I'm going to do that."
"You, Teddy?  Why, you couldn't jump over half a dozen
elephants and turn a somersault.  You would break your neck the
first thing."
"Mr. Miaco says I could.  Says I'm just the build for that sort
of thing," protested the lad.
"Well, then, get him to teach you.  Of course we can't know how
to do too many things in this business.  We have learned that it
pays to know how to do almost everything.  Have you made friends
with the mule since you got back?"
"Yes.  He spooned over me and made believe he loved me like
Teddy paused reflectively.
"Then what?"
"Well, then he tried to kick the daylight out of me."
"I thought so," laughed Phil.  "I'm glad I chose an elephant for
my friend, instead of an educated mule.  When are you going to
begin on the springboard--begin practicing, I mean?"
"Mr. Miaco says he'll teach me as soon as we get settled--"
"Settled?  I never heard of a show getting settled--that is, not
until the season is ended and it is once more in winter quarters.
I suppose by 'settled' he means when everything gets to
moving smoothly."
"I guess so," nodded Teddy.  "What are you going to do?"
"The regular acts that I did last year."
"No; I mean what are you going to learn new?"
"Oh!  Well, there are two things I'm crazy to be able to do."
"What are they?"
"One is to be a fine trapeze performer," announced Phil
thoughtfully.
"And the other?"
"To ride bareback."
"Want to be the whole thing, don't you?" jeered Teddy.
"No; not quite.  But I should like to be able to do those two
things, and to do them well.  There is nothing that catches the
audiences as do the trapezists and the bareback riders.  And it
fascinates me as well."
"Here, too," agreed Teddy.
"But there is one thing I want to talk with you about--to read
you a lecture."
"You needn't."
"I shouldn't be surprised if there was some sort of an inquiry
about the row in the dressing tent.  You know Mr. Sparling won't
stand for anything of that sort."
"He doesn't know about it," interposed Teddy.
"But we do.  Therefore, we are just as much to blame as if he
did know.  And I am not so sure that he doesn't.  You can't fool
Mr. Sparling.  You ought to know that by this time.  There isn't
a thing goes on in this show that he doesn't find out about,
sooner or later, and he is going to find out about this."
"I didn't do anything.  You did, when you had a scrap with those
two fellows out on the lot."
"You forget that you started the row by emptying a pail of water
on Larry's head.  Don't you call that starting doing anything?
Phil had to laugh at the comical expression on his
companion's face.
"Well, maybe."
"And we haven't heard the last of those fellows yet.  They're mad
all through.  I am sorry I had to hit them.  But they would have
used me badly had I not done something to protect myself.
I should tell the whole matter to Mr. Sparling, were it not that
I would get others into trouble.  That I wouldn't do."
"I should think not."
"By the way, Teddy, there come the bareback riders.  Don't you
follow after their act?"
"My!  That's so.  I had forgotten all about that.  Thought I was
watching the show just like the rest of the folks."
"Better hustle, or you won't get into your makeup in time
to go on.  There'll be a row for certain if you are late."
But Teddy already had started on a run for the dressing tent,
bowling over a clown at the entrance to the paddock and bringing
down the wrath of that individual as he hustled for the
dressing tent and began feverishly getting into his ring clothes.
These consisted of a loose fitting pair of trousers, a slouch hat
and a coat much the worse for wear.  A "Rube" act, it was called
in show parlance, and it was that in very truth, more because of
Teddy's drollery than for the makeup that he wore.
Phil quickly forgot all about the lecture he had been reading to
his companion as the bareback riders came trotting in.  His eyes
were fixed on a petite, smiling figure who tripped up to the
curbing, where she turned toward the audience, and, kicking one
foot out behind her, bowed and threw a kiss to the spectators.
Phil had walked over and sat down by the center pole right
near the sawdust ring, so that he might get a better view
of the riding.
The young woman who so attracted his attention was known
on the show bills as "Little Miss Dimples, the Queen of the
Sawdust Arena."  Phil, as he gazed at her graceful little figure,
agreed that the show bills did not exaggerate her charms at all.
Little Dimples, using the ringmaster's hand as a step, vaulted
lightly to the back of the great gray ring horse, where she sat
as the animal began a slow walk about the ring.
Phil wondered how she could stay on, for she appeared to be
sitting right on the animal's sloping hip.
The band struck up a lively tune, the gray horse began a slow,
methodical gallop.  The first rise of the horse bounded Little
Dimples to her knees, and the next to her feet.
With a merry little "yip! yip!" she began executing a fairy-like
dance, keeping time with her whip, which she held grasped in
"Beautiful!" cried Phil, bringing his hands together sharply.
In fact, he had never seen such artistic riding.  The girl seemed
to be treading on air, so lightly did her feet touch the rosined
back of the ring horse.
Little Dimples heard and understood.  She flashed a brilliant
smile at Phil and tossed her whip as a salute.  Phil had never
met her, but they both belonged to the same great family, and
that was sufficient.
His face broke out into a pleased smile at her recognition and
the lad touched his hat lightly, settling back against the
center pole to watch Dimples' riding, which had only just begun.
It made him laugh outright to see her big picture hat bobbing up
and down with the motion of the horse.
"Works just like an elephant's ear when the flies are thick,"
was the lad's somewhat inelegant comparison.
But now Dimples removed the hat, sending it spinning to the
ringmaster, who, in turn, tossed it to an attendant.  The real
work of the act was about to start.  Phil never having seen the
young woman ride, did not know what her particular specialty was.
Just now he was keenly observing, that he might learn
her methods.
Dimples' next act was to jump through a series of paper hoops.
This finished, she leaped to the ring, and, taking a running
start, vaulted to the back of her horse.
"Bravo!" cried Phil, which brought another brilliant smile from
the rider.  She knew that it was not herself, but her work,
that had brought this expression of approval from the Circus Boy,
whom she already knew of by hearing some of the other performers
tell of his achievements since he joined the circus less than a
"The ring is rough.  I should have thought they would have
leveled it down better," Phil grumbled, noting the uneven surface
of the sawdust circle with critical eyes.  "I'll bet Mr. Sparling
hasn't seen that, or he would have raised a row.  But still
Dimples seems very sure on her feet.  I wonder if she does any
brilliant stunts?"
As if in answer to the lad's question, the "tweetle" of the
ringmaster's whistle brought everything to a standstill under the
big top.  Even the band suddenly ceased playing.  Then Phil knew
that something worthwhile was coming.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" announced the ringmaster, holding up
his right hand to attract the eyes of the spectators to him,
"Little Miss Dimples, The Queen of the Sawdust Arena, will now
perform her thrilling, death-defying, unexcelled, unequaled feat
of turning a somersault on the back of a running horse.  I might
add in this connection that Little Miss Dimples is the only woman
who ever succeeded in going through this feat without finishing
up by breaking her neck.  The band will cease playing while this
perilous performance is on, as the least distraction on the part
of the rider might result fatally for her.  Ladies and gentlemen,
I introduce to you Little Miss Dimples," concluded the
ringmaster, with a comprehensive wave of the hand toward the
young woman and her gray ring horse.
Dimples dropped to the ring, swept a courtesy to the audience,
then leaped to the animal's back with a sharp little "yip! yip!"
During the first round of the ring she removed the bridle,
tossing it mischievously in Phil's direction.  He caught it
deftly, placing it on the ground beside him, then edged a little
closer to the ring that he might the better observe her work.
The ring horse started off at a lively gallop, the rider allowing
her elbows to rise and fall with the motion of the horse,
in order that she might the more thoroughly become a part of the
animal itself--that the motion of each should be the same.
Suddenly Dimples sprang nimbly to her feet, tossing her riding
whip to the waiting hands of the ringmaster.
Phil half scrambled to his feet as he saw her poise for a
backward somersault.  He had noted another thing, too.  She was
going to throw herself, it seemed, just as the horse was on the
roughest part of the ring.  He wondered if she could make it.
To him it was a risky thing to try, but she no doubt knew better
than he what she was about.
The ringmaster held up his hand as a signal to the audience that
the daring act was about to take place.
Phil crept a little nearer.
All at once the girl gracefully threw herself into the air.
He judged she had cleared the back of the animal by at least
three feet, a high jump to make straight up with unbent knees.
But just as she was leaving the back of the horse, the animal
suddenly stumbled, thus turning her halfway around, and for the
instant taking her mind from her work.  Dimples already had
begun to turn backward, but he noted that all at once she
stopped turning.
Phil knew what that meant.  As show people term it, she had
"frozen" in the air.  She was falling, head first, right toward
the wooden ring curbing.
"Turn!  Turn!" cried Phil sharply.
The girl was powerless to do so, while the ringmaster, being on
the opposite side of the ring, could be of no assistance to her.
"Turn!" shouted Phil, more loudly this time, giving a mighty
spring in the direction of the falling woman.
THE MULE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
The audience had half risen, believing that the girl would surely
be killed.  It did seem that it would be a miracle if she escaped
without serious injury.
But the Circus Boy, his every faculty centered on the task before
him, proposed to save her if he could.
He sprang up on the ring curbing, stretching both hands above his
head as far as he could reach, bracing himself with legs wide
apart to meet the shock.
It is not an easy task to attempt to catch a person, especially
if that person be falling toward you head first.  But Phil
Forrest calculated in a flash how he would do it.  That is,
he would unless he missed.
It all happened in much less time than it takes to tell it,
of course, and a moment afterwards one could not have told how it
had occurred.
The Circus Boy threw both hands under Dimples' outstretched
arms with the intention of jerking her down to her feet,
then springing from the curbing with her before both should
topple over.
His plan worked well up to the point of catching her.
But instantly upon doing so he realized that she was moving
with such speed as to make it impossible for him to retain
his balance.
Dimples was hurled into his arms with great force, bowling Phil
over like a ninepin.  Yet, in falling, he did not lose his
presence of mind.  He hoped fervently that he might be fortunate
enough not to strike on a stake, of which there were many on that
side of the ring.
"Save yourself!" gasped the girl.
Instead, Phil held her up above him at arm's length.  When he
struck it was full on his back, the back of his head coming in
contact with the hard ground with such force as to stun him
almost to the point of unconsciousness.  As he struck he gave
Dimples a little throw so that she cleared his body, landing on
the ground beyond him.
The girl stretched forth her hands and did a handspring, once
more thorough master of herself, landing gracefully on her feet.
But Phil had undoubtedly saved her life, as she well knew.
Without giving the slightest heed to the audience, which was
howling its delight, Dimples ran to the fallen lad, leaning over
him anxiously.
"Are you hurt?" she begged, placing a hand on his head.
"I--I guess not," answered Phil, pulling himself together
a little.  "I'll get up or they'll think something is the matter
"Let me help you."
"No, thank you," he replied, brushing aside the hand she had
extended to him.  But his back hurt him so severely that he could
only with difficulty stand upright.
Phil smiled and straightened, despite the pain.
At that Dimples grasped him by the hand, leading him to the
concourse facing the reserved seats, where she made a low bow to
the audience; then, throwing both arms about Phil, she gave him a
hearty kiss.
Thunders of applause greeted this, the audience getting to its
feet in its excitement.  Had it been possible, both the boy and
Miss Dimples would have been borne in triumph from the ring.
"Come back and sit down while I finish my act," she whispered.
"You're not going to try that again, are you?" questioned Phil.
"Of course I am.  You'll see what a hit it will make."
"I saw that you came near making a hit a few moments ago,"
answered the lad.
"There, there; don't be sarcastic," she chided, giving him a
playful tap.  "If you feel strong enough, please help me up."
Phil did so smilingly; then he retired to his place by the center
pole, against which he braced his aching back.
"Turn after you have gotten over the rough spot," he
cautioned her.
Dimples nodded her understanding.
This time Phil held his breath as he saw her crouching ever so
little for her spring.
Dimples uttered another shrill "yip!" and threw herself into the
He saw, with keen satisfaction, that this time she was not
going to miss.  Dimples turned in the air with wonderful grace,
alighting far back on the broad hips of the gray horse with
bird-like lightness.
Phil doffed his hat, and, getting to his feet, limped away,
with the audience roaring out its applause.  They had forgotten
all about the boy who but a few moments before had saved Little
Dimples' life, and he was fully as well satisfied that it should
Just as he was passing the bandstand the educated mule,
with Teddy Tucker on its back, bolted through the curtains
like a projectile.  The mule nearly ran over Phil, then brought
up suddenly to launch both heels at him.  But the Circus Boy had
seen this same mule in action before, and this time Phil had
discreetly ducked under the bandstand.
Then the mule was off.
"Hi-yi-yi-yip-yi!" howled Teddy, as the outfit bolted into
the arena.  The old hands with the show discreetly darted for
cover when they saw Teddy and his mule coming.  Like Phil
they had had experience with this same wild outfit before.
There was no knowing what the bucking mule might not do,
while there was a reasonable certainty in their minds as
to what he would do if given half a chance.
"Hi!  Hi!  Look out!" howled Teddy as they neared the entrance
to the menagerie tent, where a number of people were standing.
The boy saw that the mule had taken it into his stubborn head
to enter the menagerie tent, there to give an exhibition of
his contrariness.
In they swept like a miniature whirlwind, the mule twisting this
way and that, stopping suddenly now and then and bracing its feet
in desperate efforts to unseat its rider.
But Teddy held on grimly.  This rough riding was the delight of
his heart, and the lad really was a splendid horseman, though it
is doubtful if he realized this fact himself.
A man was crossing the menagerie tent with a pail of water in
each hand.  The mule saw him.  Here was an opportunity not to
Teddy's mount swept past the fellow.  Then both the beast's heels
shot out, catching both the pails at the same time.  The two
pails took the air in a beautiful curve, like a pair of rockets,
distributing water all the way across the tent, a liberal portion
of which was spilled over the water carrier as the pails left
The man chanced to be Larry, Teddy's enemy.  Teddy was traveling
at such a rapid rate that he did not recognize the fellow,
but Larry recognized him, and thereby another account was charged
up against the Circus Boy.
But the mule, though the time limit for his act had expired,
had not quite satisfied his longing for excitement.
Whirling about, he plunged toward the big top again.
"Whoa!  Whoa!" howled Teddy, tugging at the reins.  But he might
as well have tried to check the wind.  Nothing short of a stone
wall could stop the educated mule until he was ready to stop.
The ringmaster had blown his whistle for the next act and the
performers were running to their stations when Teddy and his
mount suddenly made their appearance again.
"Get out of here!" yelled the ringmaster.
"I am trying to do so," howled Teddy in a jeering voice.
"Can't go any faster than I am."
"Stop him!  You'll run somebody down!" shouted Mr. Sparling,
dodging out of the way as the mule, with ears laid back on his
head, dashed straight at the showman.
"Can't stop.  In a hurry," answered Teddy.
On they plunged past the bandstand again, the mule pausing
at the paddock entrance long enough to kick the silk curtains
into ribbons.  Next he made a dive for the dressing tent.
In less time than it takes to tell it, the dressing tent looked
as if it had been struck by a cyclone.
Clubs and side poles were brought down on the rump of the wild
most of which were promptly kicked through the side of the tent.
Teddy, in the meantime, had landed in a performer's trunk,
through the tray, being wedged in so tightly that he could not
extricate himself.  Added to the din was Teddy's voice howling
The performers, in all stages of dress and undress, had fled to
the outside.
Then, the mule becoming suddenly meek, pricked forward his ears,
ambled out into the paddock and began contentedly nibbling at the
fresh grass about the edges of the enclosure.
About this time Mr. Sparling came running in.  His face was red
and the perspiration was rolling down it.
"Where's that fool boy?" he bellowed.  "Where is he, I say?"
"Here he is," answered the plaintive voice of Teddy Tucker.
"Come out of that!"
"I can't.  I'm stuck fast."
The showman jerked him out with scant ceremony, while Teddy began
pulling pieces of the trunk tray out of his clothes.
"Do you want to put my show out of business?  What do you think
this is--a cowboy picnic?  I'll fire you.  I'll--"
"Better fire the mule.  I couldn't stop him," answered the boy.
By this time the performers, after making sure that the mule had
gone, were creeping back.
"I'll cut that act out.  I'll have the mule shot.  I'll--
Get out of here, before I take you over my knee and give you
what you deserve."
"I'm off," grinned Teddy, ducking under the canvas.
He was seen no more about the dressing tent until just before it
was time to go on for the evening performance.
HIS FIRST BAREBACK LESSON
"Where's that boy?"
"He'll catch it if he ever dares show his face in this dressing
tent again."
This and other expressions marked the disapproval of the
performers of the manner in which their enclosure had been
entered and disrupted.
"Don't blame him; blame the mule," advised Mr. Miaco, the
"Yes; Teddy wasn't to blame," declared Phil, who had entered at
that moment.  "Did he do all this?" he asked, looking about at
the scene of disorder.
"He did.  Lucky some of us weren't killed," declared one.
"If that mule isn't cut out of the programme I'll quit
this outfit.  Never safe a minute while he and the kid
are around.  First, the kid gets us into a scrimmage with the
roustabouts, then he slam bangs into the dressing tent with a
fool mule and puts the whole business out of the running."
"Was Mr. Sparling--was he mad?" asked Phil, laughing until the
tears started.
"Mad?  He was red headed," replied Miaco.
"Where's Teddy?"
"He got stuck in the strong man's trunk there.  The boss had to
pull him out, for he was wedged fast.  Then the young man
prudently made his escape.  If the boss hadn't skinned him we
would have done so.  He got out just in time."
"Are you Phil Forrest?" asked a uniformed attendant entering the
dressing tent.
"Yes; what is it?"
"Lady wants to see you out in the paddock."
"Who is it?"
"Mrs. Robinson."
"I don't know any Mrs. Robinson."
"He means Little Dimples," Mr. Miaco informed him.
Phil hurried from the tent.  Dimples was sitting on a property
industriously engaged on a piece of embroidery work.  She made a
pretty picture perched up on the box engaged in her peaceful
occupation with the needle, and the lad stopped to gaze at
her admiringly.
Dimples glanced down with a smile.
"Does it surprise you to see me at my fancy work?  That's what
I love.  Why, last season, I embroidered a new shirt waist every
week during the show season.  I don't know what I'll do with
them all.  But come over here and sit down by me.  I ought to
thank you for saving my life this afternoon, but I know you would
rather I did not."
Phil nodded.
"I don't like to be thanked.  It makes me feel--well, awkward,
I guess.  You froze, didn't you?"
"I did," and Dimples laughed merrily.
"What made you do so--the horse?"
"Yes.  I thought he was going to fall all the way down,
then by the time I remembered where I was I couldn't turn to save
my life.  I heard you call to me to do so, but I couldn't.
But let's talk about you.  You hurt your back, didn't you?"
"Nothing to speak of.  It will be all right by morning.  I'm just
a little lame now.  Where were you--what show were you with
"The Ringlings."
"The Ringlings?" marveled Phil.  "Why, I shouldn't think you
would want to leave a big show like that for a little one such
"It's the price, my dear boy.  I get more money here, and I'm
a star here.  In the big shows one is just a little part of a
big organization.  There's nothing like the small shows for
comfort and good fellowship.  Don't you think so?"
"I don't know," admitted Phil.  "This is the only show I have
ever been with.  I 'joined out' last season--"
"Only last season?  Well, well!  I must say you have made pretty
rapid progress for one who has been out less than a year."
"I have made a lot of blunders," laughed Phil.  "But I'm
I wish, though, that I could do a bareback act one quarter as
as you do.  I should be very proud if I could."
"Have you ever tried it?"
"Why don't you learn, then?  You'd pick it up quickly."
"For the reason that I have never had an opportunity--I've had no
one to teach me."
"Then you shall do so now.  Your teacher is before you."
"You--you mean that you will teach me?"
"Of course.  What did you think I meant?"
"I--I wasn't sure.  That will be splendid."
"I saw your elephant act.  You are a very finished performer--
a natural born showman.  If you stay in the business long enough
you will make a great reputation for yourself."
"I don't want to be a performer all my life.  I am going to own
a show some of these days," announced the boy confidently.
"Oh, you are, are you?" laughed Dimples.  "Well, if you say so,
I most surely believe you.  You have the right sort of pluck
to get anything you set your heart on.  Now if my boy only--"
"Yes.  Didn't you know that I am a married woman?"
"Oh my, I thought you were a young girl," exclaimed Phil.
"Thank you; that was a very pretty compliment.  But, alas, I am
no longer young.  I have a son almost as old as you are.  He is
with his father, performing at the Crystal Palace in London.
I expect to join them over there after my season closes here."
"Is it possible?"
"Yes, and as my own boy is so far away I shall have to be a sort
of mother to you this season.  You have no mother, have you?"
"No.  My mother is dead," answered the lad in a low voice,
lowering his eyes.
"I thought as much.  Mothers don't like to have their boys join
a circus; but, if they knew what a strict, wholesome life a
circus performer has to lead, they would not be so set against
the circus.  Don't you think, taking it all in all, that we are
a pretty good sort?" smiled Dimples.
"I wish everyone were as good as circus folks," the boy made
answer so earnestly as to bring a pleased smile to the face of
his companion.
"You shall have a lesson today for that, if you wish."
"Then run along and get on your togs.  As soon as the performance
is over we will get out my ring horse and put in an hour's work."
"Thank you, thank you!" glowed Phil as Mrs. Robinson rolled up
her work.  "I'll be out in a few moments."
Full of pleasurable anticipation, Phil ran to the dressing
tent and began rummaging in his trunk for his working tights.
These he quickly donned and hurried back to the paddock.
There he found Dimples with her ring horse, petting the
broad-backed beast while he nibbled at the grass.
"Waiting, you see?" she smiled up at Forrest.
"Yes.  But the performance isn't finished yet, is it?"
"No.  The hippodrome races are just going on.  Come over to this
side of the paddock, where we shall be out of the way, and I'll
teach you a few first principles."
"What do you want me to do first?"
"Put your foot in my hand and I will give you a lift."
The lad did as directed and sprang lightly to the back of
"Move over on the horse's hip.  There.  Sit over just as
far as you can without slipping off.  You saw how I did it
this afternoon?"
"Yes--oh, here I go!"
Phil slid from the sloping side of the ring horse, landing in a
heap, to the accompaniment of a rippling laugh from Dimples.
"I guess I'm not much of a bareback rider," grinned the lad,
picking himself up.  "How do you manage to stay on it in
that position?"
"I don't know.  It is just practice.  You will catch the trick of
it very soon."
"I'm not so sure of that."
"There!  Now, take hold of the rein and stand up.
Don't be afraid--"
"I'm not.  Don't worry about my being afraid."
"I didn't mean it that way.  Move back further.  It is not good
to stand in the middle of your horse's back all the time.
Besides throwing too much weight on the back, you are liable to
tickle the animal there and make him nervous.  The best work is
done by standing over the horse's hip.  That's it.  Tread on the
balls of your feet."
But Phil suddenly went sprawling, landing on the ground again,
at which both laughed merrily.
Very shortly after that the show in the big top came to a close.
The concert was now going on, at the end nearest the menagerie
so Phil and Dimples took the ring at the other end of the tent,
where they resumed their practice.
After a short time Phil found himself able to stand erect with
more confidence.  Now, his instructor, with a snap of her little
whip, started the gray to walking slowly about the ring, Phil
holding tightly to the bridle rein to steady himself.
"Begin moving about now.  Tread softly and lightly.  That's it.
You've caught it already."
"Why not put a pad on the horse's back, as I've seen some
performers do?" he questioned.
"No.  I don't want you to begin that way.  Start without a pad,
and you never will have to unlearn what you get.  That's my
I'm going to set him at a gallop now.  Stand straight and lean
The ring horse moved off at a slow, methodical gallop.
Phil promptly fell off, landing outside the ring, from where he
picked himself up rather crestfallen.
"Never mind.  You'll learn.  You are doing splendidly,"
encouraged Dimples, assisting him to mount again.  "There's the
press agent, Mr. Dexter, watching you.  Now do your prettiest.
Do you know him?"
"No; I have not met him.  He's the fellow that Teddy says blows
up his words with a bicycle pump."
"That's fine.  I shall have to tell him that.  Remember, you
always want to keep good friends with the press agent.  He's the
man who makes or unmakes you after you have passed the eagle eyes
of the proprietor," Dimples laughed.  "From what I hear I guess
you stand pretty high with Mr. Sparling."
"I try to do what is right--do the best I know how."
She nodded, clucking to the gray and Phil stopped talking at
once, for he was fully occupied in sticking to the horse,
over whose back he sprawled every now and then in the most
ridiculous of positions.  But, before the afternoon's practice
had ended, the lad had made distinct progress.  He found himself
able to stand erect, by the aid of the bridle rein, and to keep
his position fairly well while the animal took a slow gallop.
He had not yet quite gotten over the dizziness caused by the
constant traveling about in a circle in the narrow ring,
but Dimples assured him that, after a few more turns, this would
wear off entirely.
After finishing the practice, Dimples led her horse back
to the horse tent, promising Phil that they should meet the
next afternoon.
Phil had no more than changed to his street clothes before he
received a summons to go to Mr. Sparling in his private tent.
"I wonder what's wrong now?" muttered the lad.  "But, I think
I know.  It's about that row we had this morning out on the lot.
I shouldn't be surprised if I got fined for that."
With a certain nervousness, Phil hurried out around the
dressing tent, and skirting the two big tents, sought out
Mr. Sparling in his office.
SUMMONED BEFORE THE MANAGER
The lad was not far wrong in his surmise.  That Mr. Sparling was
angry was apparent at the first glance.
He eyed Phil from head to foot, a fierce scowl wrinkling his face
and forehead.
"Well, sir, what have you been up to this afternoon?"
"Practicing in the ring since the afternoon performance closed."
"H-m-m-m!  And this forenoon?"
"Not much of anything in the way of work."
"Have any trouble with any of the men?"
"A man by the name of Larry, and another whom they call Bad Eye."
"Humph!  I suppose you know it's a bad breach of discipline in a
show to have any mixups, don't you?"
"I do.  I make no apologies, except that I was acting wholly in
self defense.  All the same, I do not expect any favoritism.
I am willing to take my punishment, whatever it may be," replied
the lad steadily.
There was the merest suspicion of a twinkle in the eyes of
the showman.
"Tell me what you did."
"I punched Larry, tripped his friend, and--well, I don't
exactly know all that did happen," answered Phil without a change
of expression.
"Knock them down?"
"I--I guess so."
"H-m-m.  I suppose you know both those fellows are pretty bad
medicine, don't you?"
"I may have heard something of the sort."
"Larry has quite a reputation as a fighter."
"And you knocked him out?"
"Something like that," answered Phil meekly.
"Show me how you did it?" demanded Mr. Sparling, rising and
standing before the culprit.
"It was like this, you see," began Phil, exhibiting a sudden
interest in the inquiry.  "I was chased by the two men.
Suddenly I stopped and let the fellow, Larry, fall over me.
During the scrimmage I tripped Bad Eye.  I didn't hit anyone
until Larry crowded me so I had to do so in order to save myself,
or else run away."
"Why didn't you run, young man?"
"I--I didn't like to do that, you know."
Mr. Sparling nodded his head.
"How did you hit him?"
"He made a pass at me like this," and the lad lifted
Mr. Sparling's hand over his shoulder.  "I came up under his
guard with a short arm jolt like this."
"Well, what next?"
"That was about all there was to it.  The others came out,
about that time, and I ducked in under the big top."
To Phil's surprise Mr. Sparling broke out into a roar
of laughter.  In a moment he grew sober and stern again.
"Be good enough to tell me what led up to this assault.
What happened before that brought on the row?  I can depend
upon you to give me the facts.  I can't say as much for all
the others."
Phil did as the showman requested, beginning with the ducking of
Teddy by the men when the show was leaving Germantown, and ending
with Teddy's having emptied a pail of muddy water over Larry's
red head that morning.
He had only just finished his narration of the difficulty,
when who should appear at the entrance to the office tent but
Larry himself.  He was followed, a few paces behind, by Bad Eye.
Mr. Sparling's stern, judicial eyes were fixed upon them.
He demanded to hear from them their version of the affair,
which Larry related, leaving out all mention of his having
ducked Teddy.  His story agreed in the main details with what
Phil already had said, excepting that Larry's recital threw the
blame on Teddy and Phil.
Mr. Sparling took a book from his desk, making a
memorandum therein.
"Is that all, sir?" questioned Larry.
"Not quite.  If I hear of any further infraction of the rules of
this show on the part of either of you two, you close right then.
Understand?"
"That's not all; I'll have you both jailed for assault.  As it
is, I'll fine you both a week's pay.  Now get out of here!"
Larry hesitated, flashed a malignant glance at Phil Forrest;
then, turning on his heel, he left the tent.
"Don't you think you had better fine me, too, sir?" asked Phil.
"Because I shall have to do it again some of these days."
"What do you mean?"
"That fellow is going to be even with me at the very
first opportunity."
Mr. Sparling eyed the lad for a moment.
"I guess you will be able to give a good account of yourself
if he tries to do anything of the sort.  Let me say right here,
though you need not tell your friend so that I think Teddy
did just right, and I am glad you gave Larry a good drubbing.
But, of course, we can't encourage this sort of thing with
the show.  It has to be put down with an iron hand."
"I understand, sir."
"Mind, I don't expect you to be a coward."
"I hope not.  My father used to teach me not to be.
He frequently said, 'Phil, keep out of trouble, but if you
get into it, don't sneak out.' "
"That's the talk," roared Mr. Sparling, smiting his desk with
a mighty fist.  "You run along, now, and give your young friend
some advice about what he may expect if he gets into any
more difficulty."
"I have done that already."
"Good!  Tell it to him again as coming from me.  He's going to
make a good showman, though he came near putting this outfit out
of business with the fool mule this afternoon.  I would cut the
act out, but for the fact that it is a scream from start
to finish.  Feeling all right?"
"Yes, thank you.  I am perfectly able to go on in the ring act
tonight, if you think best."
"Wait until tomorrow; wait until tomorrow.  You'll be all the
better for it."
The cook tent was open, as Phil observed.  The red flag was
flying from the center pole of the tent, indicating that supper
was being served.  In a short time the tent would come down and
be on its way in the flying squadron to the next stand.
The show was now less than a day out, but many things
had happened.  Not a moment had been without its interest or
excitement, and Phil realized that as he walked toward the
cook tent.  He found Teddy there, satisfying his appetite, or
rather exerting himself in that direction, for Teddy's appetite
was a thing never wholly satisfied.
After supper Phil took the boy aside and delivered
Mr. Sparling's message.  Teddy looked properly serious,
but it is doubtful if the warning sank very deep into his mind,
for the next minute he was turning handsprings on the lot.
"Know what I'm going to do, Phil?" he glowed.
"There's no telling what you will do, from one minute to the
next, Teddy," replied Phil.
"Going to practice up and see if I can't get in the leaping act."
"That's a good idea.  When do you begin taking lessons?"
"Taking 'em now."
"From Mr. Miaco?"
"Yes.  I did a turn off the springboard this afternoon with the
'mechanic on,' " meaning the harness used to instruct beginners
in the art of tumbling.
"How did you make out?"
"Fine!  I'd have broken my neck if it hadn't been for
the harness."
Phil laughed heartily.
"I should say you did do finely.  But you don't expect to be able
to jump over ten elephants and horses the way the others do?"
"They don't all do it.  Some of 'em leap until they get half a
dozen elephants in line, then they stand off and watch the real
artists finish the act.  I can do that part of it now.  But I
tell you I'm going to be a leaper, Phil."
"Good for you!  That's the way to talk.  Keep out of trouble,
work hard, don't talk too much, and you'll beat me yet,"
declared Phil.  "And say!"
"Be careful with that mule act tonight.  You know Mr. Sparling
will be in there watching you.  It wouldn't take much more
trouble to cause him to cut that act out of the programme,
and then you might not be drawing so much salary.  Fifty dollars
a week is pretty nice for each of us.  If we don't get swelled
heads, but behave ourselves, we'll have a nice little pile of
money by the time the season closes."
"Yes," agreed Teddy.  "I guess that's so; but we'll be losing a
lot of fun."
"I don't agree with you," laughed Phil.
The lads strolled into the menagerie tent on their way through to
the dressing tent.  The gasoline men were busy lighting their
lamps and hauling them on center and quarter pole, while the
menagerie attendants were turning the tongues of the cages about
so that the horses could be hitched on promptly after the show in
the big top began.
Some of the animals were munching hay, others of the caged beasts
were lying with their noses poked through between the bars of
their cages, blinking drowsily.
"I'd hate to be him," announced Teddy with a comprehensive wave
of the hand as they passed the giraffe, which stood silent in his
roped enclosure, his head far up in the shadows.
"For two reasons.  Keeper tells me he can't make a sound.
Doesn't bray, nor whinny, nor growl, nor bark, nor--
can't do anything.  I'd rather be a lion or a tiger or
something like that.  If I couldn't do anything else, then,
I could stand off and growl at folks."
Phil nodded and smiled.
"And what's your other reason for being glad you are not
"Because--because--because when you had a sore throat think what
a lot of neck you'd have to gargle!"
Phil laughed outright, and as the giraffe lowered its head and
peered down into their faces, he thought, for the moment, that he
could see the animal grin.
After this they continued on to the dressing tent, where they
remained until time for the evening performance.  This passed off
without incident, Teddy and his mule doing nothing more
sensational than kicking a rent in the ringmaster's coat.
After the show was over, and the tents had begun to come down,
Phil announced his intention of going downtown for a lunch.
"This fresh air makes me hungry.  You see, I am not used to it
yet," he explained in an apologetic tone.
"You do not have to go down for a lunch, unless you want to,"
the bandmaster informed him.
"Why, is there a lunch place on the grounds?"
"No.  We have an accommodation car on our section."
"What kind of car is that?"
"Lunch car.  You can't get a heavy meal there, but you will
find a nice satisfying lunch.  The boss has it served at cost.
He doesn't make any money out of the deal.  You'll find it on
our section."
"Good!  Come along Teddy."
"Will I?  That's where I'll spend my money," nodded Teddy,
starting away at a jog trot.
"And your nights too, if they would let you," laughed Phil,
following his companion at a more leisurely gait.
As they crossed the lot they passed "Red" Larry, as he had now
been nicknamed by the showmen.  Larry pretended not to see the
boys, but there was an ugly scowl on his face that told Phil he
did, and after the lads had gone on a piece Phil turned, casting
a careless look back where the torches were flaring and men
working and shouting.
"Red" Larry was not working now.  He was facing the boys, shaking
a clenched fist at them.
"I am afraid we haven't heard the last of our friend, Larry,"
"Who's afraid?" growled Teddy.
"Neither of us.  But all the same we had better keep an eye on
him while we are in his vicinity.  We don't want to get into any
more trouble--at least not, if we can possibly avoid it."
"Not till Mr. Sparling forgets about today?  Is that it?"
"I guess it is," grinned Phil.
"He might take it seriously?"
"He already has done that.  So be careful."
Teddy nodded.  But the lads had not yet heard the last of
"Red" Larry.
THE HUMAN FOOTBALL
"Ever try clowning, young man?" asked the Iron-Jawed Man.
Teddy Tucker shook his head.
"Why don't you?"
"Nobody ever asked me."
"Then you had better ask the boss to let you try it.  Tell him
you want to be a clown and that we will take you in and put you
through your paces until you are able to go it alone."
The show had been on the road for nearly two weeks now, and every
department was working like a piece of well-oiled machinery.
The usual number of minor disasters had befallen the outfit
during the first week, but now everything was system and method.
The animals had become used to the constant moving, and to the
crowds and the noise, so that their growls of complaint were few.
In that time Teddy and Phil had been going through their act on
the flying rings daily, having shown great improvement since they
closed with the show the previous fall.  Their winter's work had
proved of great benefit, and Mr. Sparling had complimented them
several times lately.
Teddy was now devoting all his spare time to learning to
somersault and do the leaping act from the springboard.
He could, by this time, turn a somersault from the board,
though his landing was less certain.  Any part of his anatomy
was liable to sustain the impact of his fall, but he fell in so
many ludicrous positions that the other performers let it go at
that, for it furnished them much amusement.
However, Teddy's unpopularity in the dressing tent had been
apparent ever since he and the educated mule had made their
sensational entry into that sacred domain, practically wrecking
the place.  Teddy and his pet had come near doing the same thing
twice since, and the performers were beginning to believe there
was method in Tucker's madness.
It had come to the point where the performers refused to remain
in the dressing tent while Teddy and the mule were abroad,
unless men with pike poles were stationed outside to ward off
the educated mule when he came in from the ring.  But Teddy
didn't care.  The lad was interested in the suggestion of the
Iron-Jawed Man.  Had he known that the suggestion had been made
after secret conference of certain of the performers, Tucker
might have felt differently about it.  There was something in the
air, but the Circus Boy did not know it.
"What kind of clown act would you advise me to get up?" he asked.
"Oh, you don't have to get it up.  We'll do that for you.
In fact, there is one act that most all clowns start with, and
it will do as well as anything else for you.  You see, you have
to get used to being funny, or you'll forget yourself, and then
you're of no further use as a clown."
"Yes, I know; but what is the act?"
"What do you say, fellows--don't you think the human football
would fit him from the sawdust up?"
"Just the thing," answered the performers thus appealed to.
Mr. Miaco, the head clown, was bending over his trunk, his sides
shaking with laughter, but Teddy did not happen to observe him,
nor had he noticed that the head clown had had no part in
the conversation.
"The human football?" questioned Teddy dubiously.
"What's that?"
"Oh, you dress up in funny makeup so you look like a huge ball."
"But what do I do after I have become a football?"
"Oh, you roll around in the arena, falling all over yourself and
everybody who happens to get in your way; you bounce up and down
and make all sorts of funny--"
"Oh, I know," cried Teddy enthusiastically.  "I saw a fellow do
that in a show once.  He would fall on the ground on his back,
then bounce up into the air several feet."
"You've hit it," replied a clown dryly.
"I remember how all the people laughed and shouted.  I'll bet I'd
make a hit doing that."
"You would!" shouted the performers in chorus.
The show was playing in Batavia, New York, on a rainy night,
with rather a small house expected, so no better time could have
been chosen for Teddy's first appearance as a clown.
"Had I better speak to Mr. Sparling about it?"
"Well, what do you think, fellows?"
"Oh, no, no!  The old man won't care.  If you make them laugh,
he'll be tickled half to death."
"What do you say?  Is it a go, Tucker?"
"Well, I'll think about it."
Teddy strolled out in the paddock, where he walked up and down a
few times in the rain.  But the more he thought about the
proposition, the more enthusiastic he grew.  He could see himself
the center of attraction, and he could almost hear the howls of
delight of the multitude.
"They'll be surprised.  But I don't believe I had better go on
without first speaking to Mr. Sparling.  He might discharge me.
He's had his eye on me ever since the mule tore up the
dressing tent.  But I won't tell Phil.  I'll just give him
a surprise.  How he'll laugh when he sees me and finds out
Thus deciding, the lad ran through the tents out to the front
door, where he asked for Mr. Sparling, knowing that by this time
the owner's tent had been taken down and packed for shipment,
even if it were not already under way on the flying squadron.
He learned that Mr. Sparling was somewhere in the menagerie tent.
Hurrying back there, Teddy soon came upon the object of
his search.  At that moment he was standing in front of the cage
of Wallace, the biggest lion in captivity, gazing at that shaggy
beast thoughtfully.
"Mr. Sparling," called Teddy.
The showman turned, shooting a sharp glance at the flushed face
of the Circus Boy.
"Well, what's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, sir."
"Come to kick about feed in the cook tent?"
"Oh, no, no, sir!  Nothing like that.  I've come to ask a favor
"Humph!  I thought as much.  Well, what is it?"
"I--I think I'd like to be a clown, sir."
"A clown?" asked the showman, with elevated eyebrows.
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"Why, you're that already.  You are a clown, though you may not
know it.  You've been a clown ever since you wore long dresses,
I'll wager."
"But I want to be a real one," urged Teddy.
"What kind of clown?"
"I thought I'd like to be a human football."  This time
Mr. Sparling glanced at the boy in genuine surprise.
"A human football?"
"What put that idea into your head?"
"Some of the fellows suggested it."
"Ah!  I thought so," twinkled Mr. Sparling.  "Who, may I ask?"
"Well, I guess most all of them did."
"I know, but who suggested it first?"
"I think the Iron-Jawed Man was the first to say that I ought to
be a clown.  He thought I would make a great hit."
"No doubt, no doubt," snapped the showman in a tone that led
Teddy to believe he was angry about something.
Mr. Sparling reflected a moment, raised his eyes and gazed at the
dripping roof of the menagerie tent.
"When is this first appearance to be made, if I may ask?"
"Oh, tonight.  The fellows said it would be a good time, as there
would not be a very big house."
"Oh, they did, eh?  Well, go ahead.  But remember you do it at
your own risk."
"Thank you."
Teddy was off for the dressing room on a run.
"I'm It," he cried, bursting in upon them.
"Get the suit," commanded a voice.  "He's It."
Somebody hurried to the property room, returning with a full
rubber suit, helmet and all.  As yet it was merely a bundle.
They bade Teddy get into it, all hands crowding about him,
offering suggestions and lending their assistance.
"My, I didn't know I was so popular here," thought the lad,
pleased with these unusual attentions.  "They must think I'm the
real thing.  I'll show them I am, too."
"Get the pump," directed the Iron-Jawed Man.
A bicycle pump was quickly produced, and, opening a valve, one of
the performers began pumping air into the suit.
"Here, what are you doing?" demanded Teddy.
"Blowing you up--"
"Here, I don't want to be blown up."
"With a bicycle pump," added the performer, grinning through the
powder and grease paint on his face.
"Say, you ought to use that on the press agent!"
The performers howled at this sally.
Teddy began to swell out of all proportion to his natural size,
as the bicycle pump inflated his costume.  In a few moments
he had grown so large that he could not see his own feet,
while the hood about his head left only a small portion of his
face visible.
"Monster!" hissed a clown, shaking a fist in Teddy's face.
"I guess I am.  I'd make a hit as the Fattest Boy on Earth in
this rig, wouldn't I?  I'll bet the Living Skeleton will be
jealous when he sees me."
"There, I guess he's pumped up," announced the operator of the
bicycle pump.
"Try it and see," suggested a voice.
"All right."
Teddy got a resounding blow that flattened him on the ground.
But before he could raise his voice in protest he had bounded to
his feet, and someone caught him, preventing his going right on
over the other way.
The performers howled with delight.
"He'll do.  He'll do," they shouted.
"Don't you do that again," warned the boy, a little dazed.
The time was at hand for the clowns to make their own
grand entry.
"Come on, that's our cue!" shouted one, as the band struck up a
"I--I can't run.  I'm too fat."
"We'll help you."
And they did.  With a clown on either side of him, Teddy was
rushed through the silk curtains and out past the bandstand, his
feet scarcely touching the ground.  Part of the time the clowns
were half dragging him, and at other times carrying him.
At first the audience did not catch the significance of it.
Straight for ring No. 1 Tucker's associates rushed him.
But just as they reached the ring they let go of him.
Of course Teddy fell over the wooden ring curbing, and went
rolling and bouncing into the center of the sawdust arena.
Phil had made his change in the menagerie tent after finishing
his elephant act, and was just entering the big top as Teddy
made his sensational entrance.  He caught sight of his companion
"Who's that?" he asked of Mr. Sparling, who was standing at the
entrance with a broad grin on his face.
"That, my dear Phil, is your very good friend, Mr. Teddy Tucker."
"Teddy?  You don't mean it?"
"Yes; he has decided to be a clown, and I guess he is on the way.
The people are kicking on the seats and howling."
"I should judge, from appearances, that the other clowns
were getting even more entertainment out of his act than
is the audience."
"It certainly looks that way.  But let them go.  It will do
Master Teddy a whole lot of good."
A clown jumped to the ring curbing and made a speech about the
wonderful human football, announcing at the same time that the
championship game was about to be played.
Then they began to play in earnest.  Some had slapsticks,
others light barrel staves, and with these they began to belabor
the human football, each blow being so loud that it could be
heard all over the tent.  Of course the blows did not hurt
Teddy at all, but the bouncing and buffeting that he got aroused
One clown would pick the lad up and throw him to a companion,
who, in turn, would drop him.  Then the audience would yell
with delight as the ball bounced to an upright position again.
This the clowns kept up until Teddy did not know whether he were
standing on his feet or his head.  The perspiration was rolling
down his face, getting into his eyes and blinding him.
"Quit it!" he howled.
"Maybe you'll ride the educated mule through the dressing
tent again?" jeered a clown.
"Bring the mule out and let him knock the wind out of the
rubber man!" suggested another.
"How do you like being a clown?"
This and other taunts were shouted at the rubber man, Teddy
meanwhile expressing himself with unusual vehemence.
Mr. Sparling had in the meantime sent a message back to
the paddock.  He was holding his sides with laughter, while
Phil himself was leaning against a quarter pole shouting
with merriment.
Suddenly there came the sound of a clanging gong, interspersed
with shouts from the far end of the tent.
The spectators quickly glanced in that direction, and they saw
coming at a rapid rate the little patrol wagon drawn by four
diminutive ponies, the outfit so familiar to the boys who attend
The clowns were surprised when they observed it, knowing that the
patrol was not scheduled to enter at this time.  Their surprise
was even greater when the wagon dashed up and stopped where they
were playing their game of football.  Three mock policemen leaped
out and rushed into the thick of the mock game.
As they did so they hurled the clowns right and left, standing
some of them on their heads and beating them with their clubs,
which, in this instance, proved to be slapsticks, that made a
great racket.
This was a part of the act that the clowns had not arranged.
It was a little joke that the owner of the show was playing
on them.  Quick to seize an opportunity to make a hit, Sparling
had ordered out the show patrol, and the audience, catching
the significance of it, shouted, swinging their hats
and handkerchiefs.
The three policemen, after laying the clowns low, grabbed the
helpless human football by the heels, dragging him to the wagon
and dumping him in.  They dropped the human football in so
heavily that it bounced out again and hit the ground.  The next
time, as they threw Teddy in, one of the officers sat on him to
The gong set up an excited clanging, and the ponies began racing
around the arena the long way, and took the stretch to the
paddock at a terrific speed, with the howls of the multitude
sounding in their ears.
Reaching the dressing tent, the mock policemen let the air out
of the rubber ball, whereat Teddy sat down heavily in a pail
The performers danced around Tucker, singing an improvised song
about the human football.  Gradually the angry scowl on the face
of the Circus Boy relaxed into a broad grin.
"How do you like being a clown now?" jeered the Iron-Jawed Man.
"Yes; how does it feel to be a football?" questioned another.
"I guess you got even with me that time," answered Teddy
good-naturedly.  "But say, that's easy compared with riding
the educated mule."
CHAPTER XIII
DUCKED BY AN ELEPHANT
The great white billows of the Sparling Combined Shows were
moving steadily across the continent.  The receipts had exceeded
Mr. Sparling's most sanguine expectations, and he was in great
Only one unpleasant incident had happened and that occurred at
Franklin, Indiana.  Phil and Teddy, while on their way to their
car after the performance late at night, had been set upon by two
men and quite severely beaten, though both lads had given a good
account of themselves and finally driven off their assailants.
They did not report their experience to Mr. Sparling until the
next morning, having gone directly to their car and put
themselves to bed after having been fixed up with plasters and
bandages by some of their companions.  The next morning neither
lad was particularly attractive to look at.  However, bearing the
taunts of the show people good-naturedly, they started for the
cook tent just as they were in the habit of doing every day.
But Mr. Sparling had seen them as they passed his car on
"Now, I wonder what those boys have been up to?" he scowled,
watching their receding forms thoughtfully.  "I'll find out."
And he did.  He summoned the lads to his office in the tent soon
after breakfast.
"I expected you would send for us," grinned Phil, as he walked in
"What about it?  You are both sights!"
"Grease paint and powder will cover it up, I guess,
Mr. Sparling."
"I'll hear how it happened."
"I can't tell you much about it," said Phil.  "We were on our way
to the car when a couple of men suddenly jumped out from a fence
corner and went at us hammer and tongs.  That's when we got these
beauty spots.  If we had seen the fellows coming we might not
have been hit at all."
"Wait a minute; where did this occur?" demanded the showman.
"Just outside the lot at Franklin.  It was very dark there, and,
as you know, the sky was overcast."
"Did you know the men--had you ever seen them before?"
"I couldn't say as to that."
"No, sir; we couldn't say," added Teddy, nodding.
Mr. Sparling turned a cold eye upon Tucker.
"I haven't asked for remarks from you, young man.  When I do you
may answer."
Teddy subsided for the moment.
"But, had it been anyone you knew, you must have recognized
their voices."
"They didn't say a word.  Just pitched into us savagely.  I think
they might have done us serious injury had we not defended
ourselves pretty well."
"It occurs to me that you were rather roughly handled as it was,"
said the showman, with a suspicion of a grin on his face.
"Doctor fixed you up, I suppose?"
"Oh, no; it wasn't so bad as that."
"Have you any suspicion--do you think it was any of the
show people?" demanded Mr. Sparling, eyeing Phil penetratingly.
"I don't know.  Here is a button I got from the coat of one of
the men.  That may serve to identify him if he is one of our men.
I haven't had a chance to look around this morning."
The showman quickly stretched forth his hand for the button,
which he examined curiously.
"And here's a collar, too," chuckled Teddy.
"A collar?  Where did you get that, young man?"
"Oh, I just yanked it off the other fellow.  Guess it hasn't been
to the laundry this season."
Mr. Sparling leaned back and laughed heartily.
"Between you, you boys will be the ruination of me.  You take my
mind off business so that I don't know what I'm about half of
the time.  But I can't get along without you.  I'll look into
this matter," he went on more gravely.  "Tell the boss canvasman
to send Larry and Bad Eye to me."
The lads delivered the message.
Mr. Sparling's eyes twinkled as these two worthies sneaked
into his tent, each with a hangdog expression on his face.
"Red" Larry had a black eye, while Bad Eye's nose appeared
to have listed to one side.
The showman glanced at Larry's coat, then at the button in his
own hand.  He nodded understandingly.  Bad Eye was collarless.
"Here's a button that I think you lost off your coat last night,
Larry," smiled Mr. Sparling sweetly.  "And, Bad Eye, here's
your collar.  Better send it to the washerwoman."
The men were speechless for the moment.
"Go to the boss, both of you, and get your time.  Then I want you
to clear out of here."
"Wha--what--we ain't done nothing," protested Larry.
"And you had better not.  If I see you about the circus lot again
this season, I'll have you both in the nearest jail quicker than
you can say 'scat!' Understand?  Get out of here!"
The showman half rose from his chair, glaring angrily at them.
His good-nature had suddenly left him, and the canvasmen, knowing
what they might expect from the wrathful showman, stood not upon
the order of their going.  They ran.
Larry had left some of his belongings behind a cage in the
menagerie tent, and he headed directly for that place to get it
out and foot it for the village before Mr. Sparling should
discover him on the grounds.
In going after his bundle Larry was obliged to pass the elephant
station, where the elephants were taking their morning baths,
throwing water over their backs from tubs that had been placed
before them.  A pail full of water had been left near old
Emperor's tub by the keeper, because the tub would hold no more.
Emperor apparently had not observed it, nor did he seem to
see the red-headed canvasman striding his way.  Mr. Kennedy,
the keeper, was at the far end of the line sweeping off the baby
elephant with a broom, while Phil and Teddy were sitting on a
pile of straw back of Emperor discussing their experience the
previous evening.
"There's Red," said Teddy, pointing.
"Yes, and he seems to be in a great hurry about something.
I'll bet Mr. Sparling has discharged him.  I'm sorry.  I hate
to see anybody lose his job, but I guess Red deserves it if
anybody does.  He's one of the fellows that attacked us
last night.  I haven't the least doubt about that."
"Yes, and he's got a button off his coat, too," added Teddy,
peering around Emperor.  "What I want now is to see a fellow with
his collar torn off.  I got a tent stake here by me that I'd like
to meet him with."
"You would do nothing of the sort, Teddy Tucker!  Hello, what's
going on there?"
As Larry passed swiftly in front of Emperor, the old elephant's
trunk suddenly wrapped itself about the pail of water unobserved
by the discharged canvasman.
Emperor lifted the pail on high, quickly twisted it bottom side
up and jammed it down over the head of Larry.  The latter went
down under the impact and before he could free himself from the
pail and get up, Emperor had performed the same service for him
with the tub of water.
Under the deluge Red Larry was yelling and choking, making
desperate efforts to get up.  He struggled free in a moment,
and in his blind rage he hurled the empty pail full in Emperor's
face, following it with a blow over the animal's trunk with a
It was the elephant's turn to be angry now.  He did not take into
consideration that it was he that was to blame for the assault.
Stretching out his trunk, he encircled the waist of the yelling
canvasman, and, raising him on high, dashed him to the ground
almost under his ponderous feet.
Phil had risen about the time the tub came down.  At first he
laughed; but when the elephant caught his victim, the lad knew
that the situation was critical.
"Emperor!  Down!" he shouted.
It was then that the elephant cast Red under his feet.
Phil darted forward just as a ponderous foot was raised to
trample the man to death.  Without the least sense of fear the
lad ran in under Emperor, and, grabbing Larry by the heels,
dragged him quickly out.
The elephant was furious at the loss of his prey, and, raising
his trunk, trumpeted his disapproval, straining at his chains and
showing every sign of dangerous restlessness.
After getting Larry out of harm's way, Phil sprang fearlessly
toward his elephant friend.
"Quiet, Emperor, you naughty boy!" Forrest chided.  "Don't you
know you might have killed him?  I wouldn't want anything to do
with you if you had done a thing like that."
Gradually the great beast grew quiet and his sinuous trunk sought
out the Circus Boy's pockets in search of sweets, of which there
was a limited supply.
While this was going on Mr. Kennedy, the keeper, had hurried
up and dashed a pail of water into the face of the now
unconscious Larry.  By this time Larry was well soaked down.
He could not have been more so had he fallen in a mill pond.
But the last bucketful brought him quickly to his senses.
"You--you'll pay for this," snarled Larry, shaking his fist at
Phil Forrest.
"Why, I didn't do anything, Larry," answered the lad
in amazement.
"You did.  You set him on to me."
"That'll be about all from you, Mr. Red Head," warned Kennedy.
"The kid didn't do anything but save your life.  I wouldn't
let a little thing like that trouble me if I were you.
You've been doing something to that bull, or he'd never have
used you like that.  Why, Emperor is as gentle as a young kitten.
He wouldn't hurt a fly unless the fly happened to bite him
too hard.  Phil, did you see that fellow do anything to him?"
Phil shook his head.
"Not now.  He may have at some other time."
"That's it!"
Just then Mr. Sparling came charging down on the scene, having
heard of the row out at the front door.
Larry saw him coming.  He decided not to argue the question any
further, but started on a run across the tent, followed by the
showman, who pursued him with long, angry strides.  But Larry
ducked under the tent and got away before his pursuer could
reach him, while Phil and Teddy stood holding their sides
with laughter.
IN DIRE PERIL
Two days had passed and nothing more had been seen of the
discharged canvasmen.  Believing they were well rid of them
all hands proceeded to forget about the very existence of Larry
and Bad Eye.
As Phil was passing the roped-off enclosure where the elephants
were tethered, the next morning just before the parade, he saw
Mr. Kennedy regarding one of the elephants rather anxiously.
"What's the trouble?  Anything gone wrong?" sang out the
lad cheerily.
"Not yet," answered the keeper without turning his head.
"Something is bothering you or else you are planning out
something new for the bulls," decided Phil promptly.
"What is it?"
"I don't like the way Jupiter is acting."
"He is ugly."
Phil ducked under the ropes and boldly walked over toward the
swaying beast.
"Better keep away from him.  He isn't to be trusted today."
"Going to send him out in the parade?"
"Haven't decided yet.  I may think it best to leave Jupiter here
with perhaps the baby elephant for company.  He would cut up, I'm
afraid, were I to leave him here alone.  No; I think, upon second
thought, that we had better take him out.  It may take his mind
from his troubles."
"What do you think is the matter with him?" questioned the
Circus Boy, regarding the beast thoughtfully.
"That's what bothers me.  He has never acted this way before.
Usually there are some signs that I told you about once before
that tells one an elephant is going bad."
"You mean the tear drops that come out from the slit under
"Yes.  There has been nothing of that sort with Jupiter."
"He acts to me as if he had a bad stomach," suggested
Phil wisely.
"That's right.  That expresses it exactly.  I guess we'll have to
give him a pill to set him straight.  But Jupiter never was much
of a hand for pills.  He'll object if we suggest it."
"Then don't suggest it.  Just give it to him in his food."
"You can't fool him," answered Mr. Kennedy, with a shake of
the head.  "He'd smell it a rod away, and that would make him
madder than ever.  The best way is to make him open his mouth and
throw the pill back as far as possible in his throat."
"Have you told Mr. Sparling?"
"No.  He doesn't like to be bothered with these little things.
He leaves that all to me.  It's a guess, though, as to just
what to do under these conditions.  No two cases, any more
than any two elephants, are alike when it comes to disposition
and treatment."
"No; I suppose not."
"Where are you going now, Phil?"
"Going back to the dressing tent to get ready for the parade.
Hope you do not have any trouble."
"No; I guess I shan't.  I can manage to hold him, and if I don't,
I'll turn Emperor loose.  He makes a first-rate policeman."
Phil hurried on to the dressing tent, for he was a little late
this morning, for which he was not wholly to blame, considerable
time having been lost in his interview with Mr. Sparling.
In the hurry of preparation for the parade, Phil forgot all about
Mr. Kennedy's concern over Jupiter.  But he was reminded of it
again when he rode out to fall in line with the procession.
Mr. Kennedy and his charges, all well in hand, were just
emerging from the menagerie tent to take their places for
the parade.  Jupiter was among them.  He saw, too, that
Mr. Kennedy was walking by Jupiter's side, giving him almost
his exclusive attention.
Phil's place in the parade this season was with a body of
German cavalry.  He wore a plumed hat, with a gaudy uniform and
rode a handsome bay horse, one of the animals used in the running
race at the close of the circus.  Phil had become very proficient
on horseback and occasionally had entered the ring races, being
light enough for the purpose.  He had also kept up his bareback
practice, under the instruction of Dimples, until he felt quite
proud of his achievements.
Vincennes, where the show was to exhibit that day, was a large
town, and thousands of people had turned out to view the parade
which had been extensively advertised as one of the greatest
features ever offered to the public.
"They seem to like it," grinned Phil, turning to the rider
"Act as if they'd never seen a circus parade before," answered
the man.  "But wait till we get out in some of the way-back towns
in the West."
"I thought we were West now?"
"Not until we get the other side of the Mississippi, we won't be.
They don't call Indiana West.  We'll be getting there pretty
soon, too.  According to the route card, we are going to make
some pretty long jumps from this on."
"We do not go to Chicago, do we?"
"No.  Show's not quite big enough for that town.  We go south of
it, playing some stands in Illinois, then striking straight west.
Hello, what's the row up ahead there?"
"What row, I didn't see anything."
"Something is going on up there.  See!  The line is breaking!"
The part of the parade in which Phil was located was well up
toward the elephants, the animals at that moment having turned
a corner, moving at right angles to Phil's course.
"It's the elephants!" cried the lad aghast.
"What's happening?"
"They have broken the line!"
All was confusion at the point on which the two showmen had
focused their eyes.
"It's a stampede, I do believe!" exclaimed Phil.  "I wonder where
Mr. Kennedy is?  I don't see him anywhere."
"There!  They're coming this way."
"What, the elephants?  Yes, that's so.  Oh, I'm afraid somebody
will be killed."
"If there hasn't already been," growled Phil's companion.
"I'm going to get out of this while I have the chance.  I've seen
elephants on the rampage before."  Saying which, the showman
turned his horse and rode out of the line.  His example was
followed by many of the others.
People were screaming and rushing here and there, horses
neighing, and the animals in the closed cages roaring in a
most terrifying way.
Phil pulled his horse up short, undecided what to do.  He had
never seen a stampede before, but desperate as the situation
seemed, he felt no fear.
The elephants, with lowered heads, were charging straight ahead.
Now Phil saw that which seemed to send his heart right up into
Little Dimples had been riding in a gayly bedecked two-wheeled
cart, drawn by a prancing white horse.  Dressed in white from
head to foot, she looked the dainty creature that she was.
Dimples, seeing what had happened, had wheeled her horse
quickly out of line, intending to turn about and drive back along
the line.  It would be a race between the white horse and the
elephants, but she felt sure she would be able to make it and
turn down a side street before the stampeding herd reached her.
She might have done so, had it not been for one unforeseen
As she dashed along a rider, losing his presence of mind, if
he had had any to lose, drove his horse directly in front of her.
The result was a quick collision, two struggling horses lying
kicking in the dust of the street, and a white-robed figure lying
stretched out perilously near the flying hoofs.
The force of the collision had thrown Little Dimples headlong
from her seat in the two wheeled cart, and there she lay,
half-dazed with the herd of elephants thundering down upon her.
Phil took in her peril in one swift glance.
"She'll be killed!  She'll be killed!" he cried, all the color
suddenly leaving his face.
All at once he drove the rowels of his spurs against the sides of
his mount.  The animal sprang away straight toward the oncoming
herd, but Phil had to fight every inch of the way to keep the
horse from turning about and rushing back, away from the peril
that lay before it.
The lad feared he would not be able to reach Dimples in time,
but with frequent prods of spur and crop, uttering little
encouraging shouts to the frightened horse, he dashed on,
dodging fleeing showmen and runaway horses at almost every jump.
He forged up beside the girl at a terrific pace.  But, now that
he was there, the lad did not dare dismount, knowing that
were he to do so, his horse would quickly break away from him,
thus leaving them both to be crushed under the feet of the
ponderous beasts.
It was plain to Phil that Jupiter must have gone suddenly bad,
and, starting on a stampede, had carried the other bulls
with him.  And he even found himself wondering if anything
had happened to his friend Kennedy, the elephant trainer.
If Kennedy were on his feet he would be after them.
As it was, no one appeared to be chasing the runaway beasts.
Phil leaned far from the saddle grasping the woman by her
flimsy clothing.  It gave way just as he had begun to lift her,
intending to pull her up beside him on the horse's back.
Twice he essayed the feat, each time with the same result.
The bay was dancing further away each time, and the elephants
were getting nearer.  The uproar was deafening, which, with
the trumpetings of the frightened elephants, made the stoutest
hearts quail.
With a grim determination Forrest once more charged alongside
of Dimples.  As he did so she opened her eyes, though Phil did
not observe this, else he might have acted differently.
As it was he threw himself from the bay while that animal was
still on the jump.  Keeping tight hold of the saddle pommel,
the reins bunched in the hand that grasped it, Phil dropped down.
When he came up, Dimples was on his arm.
He then saw that she was herself again.
"Can you hold on if I get you up?"
"Yes.  You're a good boy."
Phil made no reply, but, with a supreme effort, threw the girl
into the saddle.  To do so he was obliged to let go the pommel
and the reins for one brief instant.  But he succeeded in
throwing Dimples up to the saddle safely, where she quickly
secured herself.
The bay was off like a shot, leaving Phil directly in front of
the oncoming elephants.
"Run!  I'll come back and get you," shouted Dimples over
her shoulder.
"You can't.  The reins are over the bay's head," he answered.
She was powerless to help.  Dimples realized this at once.
She was in no danger herself.  She was such a skillful rider that
it made little difference whether the reins were in her hand or
on the ground, so far as maintaining her seat was concerned.
With Phil, however, it was different.
"I guess I might as well stand still and take it," muttered the
He turned, facing the mad herd, a slender but heroic figure in
that moment of peril.
EMPEROR TO THE RESCUE
"Get back!" shouted the boy.
He had descried Teddy Tucker driving his own mount toward him.
Teddy was coming to the rescue in the face of almost
certain death.
"You can't make it!  Go back!"
Whether or not Teddy heard and understood, did not matter,
for at that moment the view of the plucky lad was shut off
by the elephants forming their charging line into crescent shape.
"Emperor!" he called in a shrill penetrating voice.  But in the
dust of the charge he could not make out which one was Emperor,
yet he continued calling lustily.
Phil threw his hands above his head as was his wont when desirous
of having the old elephant pick him up.
Right across the center of the crescent careened a great hulking
figure, uttering loud trumpetings--trumpetings that were taken up
by his companions until the very ground seemed to shake.
Phil's back was half toward the big elephant, and in the noise he
did not distinguish a familiar note in the call.
All at once he felt himself violently jerked from the ground.
The lad was certain that his time had come.  But out of that
cloud of dust, in which those who looked, believed that the
little Circus Boy had gone down to his death, Phil Forrest
rose right up into the air and was dropped unharmed to the back
of old Emperor.
For the moment he was so dizzy that he was unable to make up his
mind what had happened or where he was.  Then it all came to him.
He was on Emperor's back.
"Hurrah!" shouted Phil.  "Good old Emperor!  Steady, steady,
That's a good fellow."
He patted the beast's head with the flat of his hand, crooned to
him, using every artifice that he knew to quiet the nerves of his
Little by little Emperor appeared to come out of his fright,
until the lad felt almost certain that the big beast would
take orders.  He tried the experiment.
"Left, Emperor!"
The elephant swerved sharply to the left, aided by a sharp tap of
the riding crop which Phil still carried.
Phil uttered a little cry of exultation.
"Now, if I can head them off!"
With this in mind he gradually worked Emperor around until the
herd had been led into a narrow street.  Here, Phil began forcing
his mount back and forth across the street in an effort to check
the rush of the stampede, all the time calling out the command to
slow down, which he had learned from Mr. Kennedy.
He was more successful than he had even dreamed he could be.
"Now, if I am not mistaken, that street beyond there leads out to
the lot.  I'll see if I can make them go that way."
All did save Jupiter, who charged straight ahead for some
distance, then turning sharply tore back and joined his fellows.
"If I had a hook I believe I could lead him.  He's a very
bad elephant.  I hope nobody has been killed."
It was more quiet in the street where Forrest now found himself,
and by degrees the excitement that had taken possession of the
huge beasts began to wear off.
Phil uttered his commands to them in short, confident tones,
all the time drawing nearer and nearer to the circus lot.
Very soon the fluttering flags from the big top were seen above
the intervening housetops.
"I'm going to win--oh, I hope I do!" breathed the Circus Boy.
With rapid strides, at times merging into a full run, the beasts
tore along, now understanding that they were nearing their
quarters, where safety and quiet would be assured.
And, beyond that, it was time for their dinners.  Already bales
of hay had been placed in front of their quarters, and the
elephants knew it.
As the procession burst into the circus lot a dozen attendants
started on a run toward them.
"Keep off!" shouted Phil.  "Do you want to stampede them again?
Keep away, I tell you and I'll get them home.  Drive all the
people out of the way in case the bulls make another break.
That's all you can do now."
Now young Forrest urged Emperor to the head of the line of
bobbing beasts, feeling sure that the others would follow him
They did.  The whole line of elephants swept in through the
opening that the attendants had quickly made by letting down
a section of the side walls of the menagerie tent, with Phil
Forrest a proud and happy boy, perched on the head of
old Emperor.
He went at it with all the confidence and skill of a professional
elephant trainer.
Each beast walked to his regular place, a dozen sinuous trunks
gathering up as many wisps of hay.
"Back up!  Back, Jupiter!"
As docile as if they never had left the tent, each huge beast
slowly felt his way into his corner.
"Good boy, Emperor!" glowed Phil holding out a small bag of
peanuts, which Emperor quickly stowed away in his mouth bag
"You greedy fellow!  Now get back into your own corner!"
The elephant did so.
"You fellows keep away from here," warned Phil as the anxious
tent men began crowding around him.  "Don't let anybody get these
big fellows excited.  We've had trouble enough for one day."
Phil then began chaining down the beasts, his first care being to
secure the unruly Jupiter.  But Jupiter's fit of bad temper
seemed to have left him entirely.  He was as peaceful as could
be, and, to show that he was good, he showered a lot of hay all
"You bad, bad boy!" chided the lad.  "All this is just because
you let your temper get the best of you.  I think perhaps
Mr. Sparling may have something to say to you if anyone
has been killed or seriously hurt.  Oh, you want some peanuts,
do you?  I haven't any, but I'll get you some, though goodness
knows you don't deserve any.  Bring me some peanuts, will
you please?"
An attendant came running with a bag of them.  Phil met him
halfway, not wishing the man to approach too near.  With the bag
in his hand the boy walked slowly down the line, giving to each
of his charges a small handful.
This was the final act in subduing them.  They were all
thoroughly at home and perfectly contented now, and Phil
had chained the last one down, except the baby elephant,
that usually was left free to do as it pleased, providing it did
not get too playful.
At this moment Phil heard a great shouting out on the lot.
"Go out there and stop that noise!" the boy commanded.  He was as
much in charge of the show at that moment as if he had been the
proprietor himself.
Shortly after that Mr. Kennedy came rushing in on one of the
circus ponies that he had taken from a parade rider.  Phil was
delighted to see that the keeper was uninjured.
"Did you do this, Phil Forrest?" he shouted bursting in.
"Yes.  But I'll have to do it all over again if you keep on
yelling like that.  What happened to you?"
"Jupiter threw me over a fence, into an excavation where they
were digging for a new building.  I thought I was dead, but after
a little I came to and crawled out.  It was all over but the
shouting then."
"Did you know I had them?"
"No; not until I got near the lot.  I followed their tracks
you see.  Finally some people told me a kid was leading the herd
back here.  I knew that was you.  Phil Forrest, you are a dandy.
I can't talk now!  I'm too winded.  I'll tell you later on what I
think of your kind.  Now I'm going to whale the daylights out of
that Jupiter."
"Please don't do anything of the sort," begged Phil.  "He is
quiet now.  He has forgotten all about it.  I am afraid if you
try to punish him you will only make him worse."
"Good elephant sense," emphasized the keeper.  "You ought to be
on the animals."
"It seems to me that I have been pretty well on them today,"
grinned the lad.  "Oh, was anybody killed?"
"I think not.  Don't believe anyone was very seriously hurt.
You see, that open lot there gave the people plenty of chance
to see what was coming.  They had plenty of time to get away
after that."
"I'm so glad.  I hope no one was killed."
"Reckon there would have been if you hadn't got busy when
"Have you seen Mrs. Robinson?  I'm rather anxious about her."
"There she is now."
Dimples had changed her torn white dress for a short riding
skirt, and when Phil turned about she was running toward him
with outstretched arms.  He braced himself and blushed violently.
"Oh, you dear," cried the impulsive little equestrienne, throwing
both arms about Phil's neck.  "I wish my boy could have seen you
do that!  It was splendid.  You're a hero!  You'll see what a
craze the people will make of you--"
"I--I think they are more likely to chase us out of town,"
laughed Phil.  "We must have smashed up things pretty
thoroughly downtown."
"Never mind; Mr. Sparling will settle the damage.  The only
trouble will be that he won't have anyone to scold.  You saved
the day, Phil, and you saved me as well.  Of course I'm not much,
but I value my precious little life just as highly as the next
one--I mean the next person."
"The bay ran away with you, didn't he?"
"I suppose that's what some people would call it.  It would have
been a glorious ride if it hadn't been that I expected you were
being trampled to death back there.  The bay brought me right to
the lot, then stopped, of course.  Circus horses have a lot of
I heard right away that you were not injured and that you were
bringing the bulls in.  Then I was happy.  I'm happy now.
We'll have a lesson after the show.  You--"
"When do you think I shall be fit to go in the ring?"
"Fit now!  You're ahead of a good many who have been working
at it for years, and I mean just what I'm saying.  There is
Mr. Sparling.  Come on; run along back to the paddock with me.
I haven't finished talking with you yet."
"Perhaps he may want me," hesitated Phil.
"Nothing very particular.  He'll want to have it out with
Mr. Kennedy first.  Then, if he wants you, he can go back and
hunt you up, or send for you.  Mr. Sparling knows how to send for
people when he wants them, doesn't he?" twinkled Dimples.
"I should say he did," grinned Phil.  "He's not bashful.  Has my
friend Teddy got back yet?"
"Haven't seen him.  Why?  Worried about him?"
"Not particularly.  He has a habit of taking care of himself
under most circumstances."
Dimples laughed heartily.
"It will take more than a stampede to upset him.  He'll make a
showman if he ever settles down to the work in earnest."
"He has settled down, Mrs. Robinson," answered Phil with
some dignity.
"My, my!  But you needn't growl about it.  I was paying him
a compliment."
Thus she chattered on until they reached the paddock.  They had
been there but a few moments before the expected summons for Phil
was brought.
AN UNEXPECTED PROMOTION
Phil responded rather reluctantly.  He would have much preferred
to sit out in the paddock talking circus with Little Dimples.
He found Mr. Sparling striding up and down in front of the
elephant enclosure.
"I hope nothing very serious happened, Mr. Sparling," greeted
Phil, approaching him.
"If you mean damages, no.  A few people knocked down, mostly due
to their own carelessness.  I've got the claim-adjuster at work
settling with all we can get hold of.  But we'll get it all back
tonight, my boy.  We'll have a turn-away this afternoon, too,
unless I am greatly mistaken.  Why, they're lining up outside the
front door now."
"I'm glad for both these things," smiled Phil.  "Especially so
because no one was killed."
"No.  But one of our bareback riders was put out of business for
"Is that so?  Who?"
"Monsieur Liebman."
"Oh, that's too bad.  What happened to him?"
"Someone ran him down.  He was thrown and sprained his ankle.
He won't ride for sometime, I reckon.  But come over here and
sit down.  I want to have a little chat with you."
Mr. Sparling crossed the tent, sitting down on a bale of straw
just back of the monkey cage.  The simians were chattering
loudly, as if discussing the exciting incidents of the morning.
But as soon as they saw the showman they flocked to the back of
the cage, hanging by the bars, watching him to find out what he
was going to do.
He made a place for Phil beside him.
"Thank you."
"I was just running up in my mind, on my way back, that,
in actual figures, you've saved me about ten thousand dollars.
Perhaps it might be double that.  But that's near enough for all
practical purposes."
"I saved you--" marveled Phil, flushing.
"Well, you began last year, and you have started off at the same
old pace this season.  Today you have gone and done it again.
That was one of the nerviest things I ever saw.  I wouldn't
have given a copper cent for your life, and I'll bet you
wouldn't, either."
"N-o-o," reflected Phil slowly, "I thought I was a goner."
"While the rest of our crowd were hiking for cover, like a lot of
'cold feet,' you were diving right into the heart of the trouble,
picking up my principal equestrienne.  Then you sent her away and
stopped to face the herd of bulls.  Jumping giraffes, but it was
By this time the monkeys had gone back to finish their
animated discussion.
"I do not deserve any credit for that.  I was caught and I
thought I might as well face the music."
"Bosh!  I heard you calling for Emperor, and I knew right away
that that little head of yours was working like the wheels of
a chariot in a Roman race.  I knew what you were trying to do,
but I'd have bet a thousand yards of canvas you never would.
You did, though," and the showman sighed.
Phil was very much embarrassed and sat kicking his heels into
the soft turf, wishing that Mr. Sparling would talk about
something else.
"The whole town is talking about it.  I'm going to have the press
agent wire the story on ahead.  I told him, just before I came
in, that if he'd follow you he'd get 'copy' enough to last him
all the rest of his natural life.  All that crowd out there has
come because there was a young circus boy with the show, who had
a head on his shoulders and the pluck to back his gray matter."
"Have you talked with Mr. Kennedy?" asked Phil, wishing to change
the personal trend of the conversation.
"Did he say what he thought was the matter with Jupiter?"
"He didn't know.  He knew only that Jupiter had been 'off' for
nearly two days.  Kennedy said something about a bad stomach.
Why do you ask that question?" demanded the showman, with a
shrewd glance at the boy.
"Because I have been wondering about Jupiter quite a little
since morning.  I've been thinking, Mr. Sparling."
"Now what are you driving at?  You've got something in your head.
Out with it!"
"It may sound foolish, but--"
"While Jupiter was bad, he showed none of the signs that come
from a fit of purely bad temper--that is, before the stampede."
"That's right."
"Then what brought it on?" asked Phil looking Mr. Sparling
squarely in the eyes.
For a few seconds man and boy looked at each other without
"What's your idea?" asked the showman quietly.
"It's my opinion that somebody doctored him--gave him
something--"
The showman uttered a long, low whistle.
"You've hit it!  You've hit it!" he exclaimed, bringing a hand
down on the lad's knee with such force that Phil winced.
"It's one of those rascally canvasmen that I discharged.  Oh, if
ever I get my hands on him it will be a sorry day for him!
You haven't seen him about, have you?"
"I thought I caught a glimpse of him on the street yesterday
during the parade, but he disappeared so quickly that I could not
Mr. Sparling nodded reflectively.
"You probably heard how Emperor ducked him and--"
"Yes; you remember I came up just after the occurrence.
I'll tell you what I want you to do."
"I'll release you from the parade for tomorrow, and perhaps
longer, and I want you to spend your time moving around among
the downtown crowds to see if you can spot him.  If you succeed,
well you will know what to do."
"Want me to act as a sort of detective?" grinned Phil.
"Well, you might put it that way, but I don't.  You are serving
"Yes; I know that.  I am glad to serve you in any way I can."
"I don't have to take your word for that," laughed Mr. Sparling.
"I think you have shown me.  I have been thinking of
another matter.  It has been in my mind for several days."
Phil glanced up inquiringly.
"How would you like to come out front?"
"To join my staff?  I need someone just like you--a young man
with ideas, with the force to put them into execution after he
has developed them.  You are the one I want."
"But, Mr. Sparling--"
"Wait till I get through.  You can continue with your acts if you
wish, just the same, and give your odd moments to me."
"In what capacity?"
"Well, for the want of a better name we'll call it a sort of
confidential man."
"I appreciate the offer more than I can tell you, Mr. Sparling.
"I want to go through the mill in the ring.  I want to learn to
do everything that almost anyone can do there."
The showman laughed.
"Then you would be able to do what few men ever have succeeded
in doing.  You would be a wonder.  I'm not saying that you are
not that already, in your way.  But you would be a wonder
among showmen."
"I can do quite a lot of things now."
"I know you can.  And you will.  What do you say?"
"It's funny, but since you told me of the accident to your
bareback man, I was going to ask you something."
"Rather, I was going to suggest--"
"Well, out with it!"
"I was going to suggest that you let me fill in his place until
he is able to work again.  It would save you the expense of
getting a new performer on, and would hold the job for the
present man."
"You, a bareback rider?"
Phil nodded.
"But you can't ride!"
"But I can," smiled the lad.  "I've been at it almost ever since
we started the season.  I've been working every day."
"No.  Mrs. Robinson has been teaching me.  Of course, I am not
much of a rider, but I can manage to stick on somehow."
The manager was regarding him thoughtfully.
"As I have intimated strongly before this, you beat anything I
ever have seen in all my circus experience.  You say you can
ride bareback?"
"I should like to see what you can do.  Mind you, I'm not saying
I'll let you try it in public.  Just curious, you know, to see
what you have been doing."
"Now--will you see me ride now?"
Mr. Sparling nodded.
"Then I'll run back and get ready.  I'll be out in a few
laughed the boy, as, with sparkling eyes and flushed face,
he dashed back to the dressing tent to convey the good news
to Little Dimples.
"I knew it," she cried enthusiastically.  "I knew you would be a
rival soon.  Now I've got to look out or I shall be out of a job
in no time.  Hurry up and get your working clothes on.  I'll have
the gray out by the time you are ready."
Twenty minutes later Phil Forrest presented himself in the ring,
with Little Dimples following, leading the old gray ring horse.
"Come up to ring No. 2," directed the owner.  "They haven't
leveled No. 1 down yet.  How's this?  Don't you use the back pad
to ride on?" questioned Mr. Sparling in a surprised tone.
"No, sir.  I haven't used the pad at all yet."
"Very well; I'm ready to see you fall off."
Phil sprang lightly to the back of the ring horse while Dimples,
who had brought a ringmaster's whip with her, cracked the whip
and called shrilly to her horse.  The old gray fell into its
accustomed easy gallop, Phil sitting lightly on the animal's hip,
moving up and down with the easy grace of a finished rider.
After they had swept twice around the ring, the boy sprang to
his feet, facing ahead, and holding his short crop in both hands,
leaning slightly toward the center of the ring, treading on fairy
feet from one end of the broad back to the other.
Next he varied his performance by standing on one foot, holding
the other up by one hand, doing the same graceful step that he
had on both feet a moment before.
Now he tried the same feats riding backwards, a most difficult
performance for any save a rider of long experience.
Mrs. Robinson became so absorbed in his riding that she forgot to
urge the gray along or to crack the whip.  The result was that
the old horse stopped suddenly.
Phil went right on.  He was in a fair way to break his neck,
as he was plunging toward the turf head first.
"Ball!" she cried, meaning to double oneself up into as near an
approach to a round ball as was possible.
But Phil already had begun to do this very thing.  And he did
another remarkable feat at the same time.  He turned his body
in the air so that he faced to the front, and the next instant
landed lightly on his feet outside the ring.
Phil blew a kiss to the amazed owner, turning back to the
By this time Mrs. Robinson had placed the jumping board in the
ring--a short piece of board, one end of which was built up
about a foot from the ground.  Then she started the ring horse
galloping again.
Phil, measuring his distance, took a running start and vaulted,
landing on his feet on the animal's back, then, urging his mount
on to a lively gallop about the sawdust ring, he threw himself
into a whirlwind of graceful contortions and rapid movements,
adding some of his own invention to those usually practiced by
bareback riders.
Phil dropped to the hip of the gray, his face flushed with
triumph, his eyes sparkling.
"How is it, Mr. Sparling?" he called.
The showman was clapping his hands and clambering down the aisle
from his position near the top row of seats.
"You don't mean to tell me you have never tried bareback riding
before this season?" he demanded.
"No, sir; this is my first experience."
"Then all I have to say is that you will make one of the
finest bareback riders in the world if you keep on.  It is
marvelous, marvelous!"
"Thank you," glowed the lad.  "But if there is any credit
coming to anyone it is due to Mrs. Robinson.  She taught me
how to do it," answered Phil gallantly.
Little Dimples shook a small, brown fist at him.
"He knows how to turn a pretty compliment as well as he knows how
to ride, Mr. Sparling," bubbled Dimples.  "You should just hear
the nice things he said to me back in the paddock," she teased.
Phil blushed furiously.
"Shall I ride again?" he asked.
"Not necessary," answered the owner.  "But, by the way, you might
get up and do a somersault.  Do a backward turn with the horse at
a gallop," suggested Mr. Sparling, with a suspicion of a smile at
the corners of his mouth.
"A somersault?" stammered Phil, somewhat taken back.  "Why--I--
I--I guess I couldn't do that; I haven't learned to do that yet."
"Not learned to do it?  I am surprised."
Phil looked crestfallen.
"I am surprised, indeed, that there is one thing in this show
that you are unable to do."  The manager broke out into a roar of
laughter, in which Little Dimples joined merrily.
"May I go on?" asked the lad somewhat apprehensively.
"May you?  May you?  Why, I--"
At that moment Teddy Tucker came strolling lazily in with a long,
white feather tucked in the corner of his mouth.
The showman's eyes were upon it instantly.
"What have you there?" he demanded.
"Feather," answered Teddy thickly.
"I see it.  Where did you get it?"
"Pulled it out of the pelican's tail.  Going to make a pen
of it to use when I write to the folks at Edmeston," answered
the boy carelessly.
"You young rascal!" thundered Mr. Sparling.  "What do you
mean by destroying my property like that?  I'll fine you!
I'll teach you!"
"Oh, it didn't hurt the pelican any.  Besides, he's got more tail
than he can use in his business, anyway."
"Get out of here!" thundered the manager in well-feigned anger.
"I'll forget myself and discharge you first thing you know.
What do you want?"
"I was going to ask you something," answered Teddy slowly.
"You needn't.  You needn't.  It won't do you any good.  What is
it you were going to ask me?"
"I was going to ask you if I might go in the leaping act."
"The leaping act?"
"Yes, sir.  The one where the fellows jump over the
elephants and--"
"Ho, ho, ho!  What do you think of that, Phil?  What do you--"
"I can do it.  You needn't laugh.  I've done it every day for
three weeks.  I can jump over four elephants and maybe five, now.
"Yes, I have seen him do it, Mr. Sparling," vouched Phil.  "He is
going to make a very fine leaper."
The showman removed his broad sombrero, wiped the perspiration
from his brow, glancing from one to the other of the Circus Boys.
"Yes, yes.  Go ahead.  Do anything you want to.  I'm only the
hired man around here anyhow," snapped the showman, jamming his
hat down over his head and striding away, followed by the merry
laughter of Little Dimples.
CHAPTER XVII
THE CIRCUS BOYS WIN NEW LAURELS
"Bareback riders out!" shouted the callboy, poking his head
into the dressing tent.
"Get out!" roared a clown, hurling a fellow performer's bath
brush at the boy, which the youngster promptly shied back
at the clown's head, then prudently made his escape to call
Little Dimples in the women's dressing tent.
Phil Forrest, proud and happy, bounded out into the paddock,
resplendent in pink tights, a black girdle about his loins,
sparkling with silver spangles.
Little Dimples ran out at about the same time.
"How do I look?" he questioned, his face wreathed in smiles.
"If you ride half as well as you look today, you will make the
of your life," twinkled Dimples merrily.  "There, don't blush.
Run along.  The band is playing our entrance tune.  Mr. Ducro
will be in a fine temper if we are a second behind time."
For that day, and until Phil could break in on another animal,
Little Dimples had loaned her gray to him, for Phil did not
dare to try the experiment of riding a new horse at his
first appearance.  Altogether too much depended upon his first
public exhibition as a bareback rider to permit his taking any
such chances.
Dimples owned two horses, so she rode the second one this day.
As Phil walked lightly the length of the big top, which he
was obliged to do to reach ring No. 1 in which he was to ride,
his figure, graceful as it was, appeared almost fragile.
He attracted attention because of this fact alone, for the people
did not recognize in him the lad who had that morning stayed the
stampede of the herd of huge elephants.
"Now keep cool.  Don't get excited," warned Dimples as she left
him to enter the ring where she was to perform.  "Forget all
about those people out there, and they will do the rest."
Phil nodded and passed on smiling.  Reaching his ring he quickly
kicked off his pumps and leaped lightly to the back of his mount,
where he sat easily while the gray slowly walked about the
sawdust arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen," announced the equestrian director.
"You see before you the hero of the day, the young man who,
unaided, stopped the charge of a herd of great elephants,
saving, perhaps many lives besides doing a great service for
the Sparling Combined Shows."
"What did you do that for?" demanded Phil, squirming uneasily
on the slippery seat where he was perched.
"Unfortunately," continued the Director, "our principal male
bareback rider was slightly injured in that same stampede.
The management would not permit him to appear this evening on
that account, for the Sparling Combined Shows believe in
treating its people right.  Our young friend here has consented
to ride in the regular rider's place.  It is his first appearance
in any ring as a bareback rider.  I might add that he has been
practicing something less than three weeks for this act;
therefore any slips that he may make you will understand.
Ladies and gentlemen, I take pleasure in introducing to you
Master Phillip Forrest, the hero of the day--a young man who is
winning new laurels on the tanbark six days in every week!"
The audience, now worked up to the proper pitch of enthusiasm by
the words of the director, howled its approval, the spectators
drumming on the seats with their feet and shouting lustily.
Phil had not had such an ovation since the day he first rode
Emperor into the ring when he joined the circus in Edmeston.
The lad's face was a few shades deeper pink than his tights,
and nervous excitement seemed to suddenly take possession of him.
"I wish you hadn't done that," he laughed.  "I'll bet I fall off
now, for that."
"Tweetle!  Tweetle!" sang the whistle.
At a wave of the bandmaster's baton, the band suddenly launched
into a smashing air.
The ringmaster's whip cracked with an explosive sound, at which
the gray mare, unaffected by the noise and the excitement,
started away at a measured gallop, her head rising and falling
like the prow of a ship buffeting a heavy sea.
Phil was plainly nervous.  He knew it.  He felt that he was going
to make an unpleasant exhibition of himself.
"Get up!  Get going!  Going to sit there all day?" questioned
the ringmaster.
Phil threw himself to his feet.  Somehow he missed his footing in
his nervousness, and the next instant he felt himself falling.
"There, I've done it!" groaned the lad, as he dropped lightly on
all fours well outside the wooden ring curbing, which he took
care to clear in his descent.
"Oh, you Rube!  You've gone and done it now," growled
the ringmaster.  "It's all up.  You've lost them sure."
The audience was laughing and cheering at the same time.
Feeling her rider leave her back the gray dropped her gallop and
fell into a slow trot.
Phil scrambled to his feet very red in the face, while
Mr. Sparling, from the side lines, stood leaning against a
quarter pole with a set grin on his face.  His confidence in his
little Circus Boy was not wholly lost yet.
"Keep her up!  Keep her up!  What ails you?" snapped Phil.
All the grit in the lad's slender body seemed to come to the
front now.  His eyes were flashing and he gripped the little
riding whip as if he would vent his anger upon it.
The ringmaster's whip had exploded again and the gray began
to gallop.  Phil paused on the ring curbing with head slightly
inclined forward, watching the gray with keen eyes.
Phil had forgotten that sea of human faces out there now.  He saw
only that broad gray, rosined back that he must reach and cling
to, but without a slip this time.
All at once he left the curbing, dashing almost savagely at
"He'll never make it from the ground," groaned Mr. Sparling,
realizing that Phil had no step to aid him in his effort to reach
the back of the animal.
The lad launched himself into the air as if propelled by
a spring.  He landed fairly on the back of the ring horse,
wavered for one breathless second, then fell into the pose
of the accomplished rider.
"Y-i-i-i--p!  Y-i-i-i-p!" sang the shrill voice of Little Dimples
far down in ring No. 1.
"Y-i-i-i-p!" answered the Circus Boy, while the spectators broke
into thunders of applause.
Mr. Sparling, hardened showman that he was, brushed a suspicious
hand across his eyes and sat down suddenly.
"Such grit, Such grit!" he muttered.
Phil threw himself wildly into his work, taking every conceivable
position known to the equestrian world, and essaying many daring
feats that he had never tried before.  It seemed simply
impossible for the boy to fall, so sure was his footing.  Now he
would spring from the broad back of the gray, and run across the
ring, doing a lively handspring, then once more vault into a
standing position on the mare.
Suddenly the band stopped playing, for the rest that is always
given the performers.  But Phil did not pause.
"Keep her up!" Forrest shouted, bringing down his whip on the
flanks of his mount and, in a fervor of excitement and stubborn
determination, going at his work like a whirlwind.
Mr. Sparling, catching the spirit of the moment scrambled to his
feet and rushed to the foot of the bandstand, near which he had
been sitting.
"Play, you idiots, play!" shouted the proprietor, waving his
arms excitedly.
Play they did.
Little Dimples, too, had by this time forgotten that she was
resting, and now she began to ride as she never had ridden
before, throwing a series of difficult backward turns, landing
each time with a sureness that she never had before accomplished.
Tweetle!  Tweetle!
The act came to a quick ending.  The time for the equestrian act
had expired, and it must give way to the others that were
to follow.  But Phil, instead of dropping to the ground and
walking to the paddock along the concourse, suddenly brought down
his whip on the gray's flanks, much to that animal's surprise and
apparent disgust.
Starting off at a quicker gallop, the gray swung into the
concourse, heading for the paddock with disapproving ears laid
back on her head, Phil standing as rigid as a statue with folded
arms, far back over the animal's hips.
The people were standing up, waving their arms wildly.
Many hurled their hats at the Circus Boy in their excitement,
while others showered bags of peanuts over him as he raced
Such a scene of excitement and enthusiasm never had been seen
under that big top before.  Phil did not move from his position
until he reached the paddock.  Arriving there he sat down, slid
to the ground and collapsed in a heap.
Mr. Sparling came charging in, hat missing and hair
standing straight up where he had run his fingers through
it in his excitement.
He grabbed Phil in his arms and carried him into the
dressing tent.
"You're not hurt, are you, my lad?" he cried.
"No; I'm just a silly little fool," smiled Phil a bit weakly.
"How did I do?"
"It was splendid, splendid."
"Hurrah for Phil Forrest!" shouted the performers.  Then boosting
the lad to their shoulders, the painted clowns began marching
about the dressing tent with him singing, "For He's a Jolly
Good Fellow."
"All out for the leaping act," shouted the callboy, poking his
grinning countenance through between the flaps.  "Leapers and
clowns all out on the jump!"
CHAPTER XVIII
DOING A DOUBLE SOMERSAULT
Cool, confident a troop of motley fools and clean-limbed
performers filed out from the dressing tent, on past the
bandstand and across the arena to the place where the springboard
had been rigged, with a mat two feet thick a short distance
With them proudly marched Teddy Tucker.
Mr. Sparling, in the meantime, was patting Phil on the back.
"I'm in a quandary, Phil," he said.
"What about?" smiled the lad, tugging away at his tights.
"I want you out front and yet it would be almost a crime to take
a performer like you out of the ring.  Tell me honestly, where
would you prefer to be?"
"That's a difficult question to answer.  There is a terrible
fascination about the ring, and it's getting a stronger hold of
me every day I am out."
"Yes; I understand that.  It's so with all of them.  I was that
way myself at first."
"Were you ever in the ring?"
"I clowned it.  But I wasn't much of a performer.  Just did a few
simple clown stunts and made faces at the audience.  Then I got
some money ahead and started out for myself.  If I'd had you then
I would have had a railroad show long before this season," smiled
the showman.
"On the other hand," continued Phil, "I am anxious to learn the
front of the house as well as the ring.  I think, maybe, that I
could spend part of my time in the office, if that is where you
wish me.  If you can spare me from the parade, I might put in
that time to decided advantage doing things on the lot for you,"
"Spare you from the parade?  Well, I should say so.  You are
relieved from that already.  Of course, any time you wish to go
out, you have the privilege of doing so.  Sometimes it is a
change, providing one is not obliged to go," smiled the showman.
"Most of the performers would be glad if they did not
have to, though."
"No doubt of it.  But let's see; you have how many acts now?
There's the flying rings, the elephant act and now comes the
bareback act--"
"Yes; three," nodded Phil.
"That's too many.  You'll give out under all that, and now we're
talking about doubling you out in front.  I guess we will let the
front of the house take care of itself for the present."
Phil looked rather disappointed.
"Of course, any time you wish you may come out, you know."
"Thank you; I shall be glad to do that.  I can do a lot of
little things to help you as soon as I learn how you run
the show.  I know something about that already," grinned the lad.
"If you wish, I will double somebody up on your flying rings act.
What do you say?"
"It isn't necessary, Mr. Sparling.  I can handle all three
without any difficulty, only the bareback act comes pretty
close to the grand entry.  It doesn't give me much time to
change my costume."
"That's right.  Tell you what we'll do."
"We'll set the bareback act forward one number, substituting
the leaping for it.  That will give you plenty of time to make
a change, will it not?"
"Plenty," agreed Phil.
"How about the flying rings.  They come sometime later, if I
remember correctly."
"Yes; the third act after the riding, according to the
new arrangement.  No trouble about that."
"Very well; then I will notify the director and let him make
the necessary changes.  I want to go out now and see your young
friend make an exhibition of himself."
"Yes.  He's going on the leaping act for the first time,
"That's so.  I had forgotten all about it.  I want to see that,
I'll hurry and dress."
"And, Phil," said the showman in a more kindly voice, even,
than he had used before.
"Yes, sir," answered the lad, glancing up quickly.
"You are going to be a great showman some of these days, both in
the ring and out of it.  Remember what I tell you."
"Thank you; I hope so.  I am going to try to be at least a
"You're that already.  You've done a lot for the Sparling
Combined as it is and I don't want you to think I do not
appreciate it.  Shake hands!"
Man and boy grasped each other's hand in a grip that meant more
than words.  Then Mr. Sparling turned abruptly and hurried out
into the big top where the leaping act was in full cry.
Painted clowns were keeping the audience in a roar by their
funny leaps from the springboard to the mat, while the supple
acrobats were doing doubles and singles through the air,
landing gracefully on the mat as a round off.
The showman's first inquiring look was in search of Teddy Tucker.
He soon made the lad out.  Teddy was made up as a fat boy with a
low, narrow-brimmed hat perched jauntily on one side of his head.
There was drollery in Teddy's every movement.  His natural
clownish movements were sufficient to excite the laughter
of the spectators without any attempt on his part to be funny,
while the lad kept up a constant flow of criticism of his
companions in the act.
But they had grown to know Teddy better, by this time, and none
took his taunts seriously.
"That boy can leap, after all," muttered Mr. Sparling.
"I thought he would tumble around and make some fun for the
audience, but I hadn't the least idea he could do a turn.
Why, he's the funniest one in the bunch."
Teddy was doing funny twists in the air as he threw a somersault
at that moment.  In his enthusiasm he overshot the mat, and had
there not been a performer handy to catch him, the lad might have
been seriously hurt.
Mr. Sparling shook his head.
"Lucky if he doesn't break his neck!  But that kind seldom do,"
the owner said out loud.
Now the helpers were bringing the elephants up.  Two were placed
in front of the springboard and over these a stream of gaudily
attired clowns dived, doing a turn in the air as they passed.
Teddy was among the number.
Three elephants were lined up, then a fourth and a fifth.
"I hope he isn't going to try that," growled Mr. Sparling,
noting that the lad was waiting his turn to get up on
the springboard.  "Not many of them can get away with
that number.  I suppose I ought to go over and stop the boy.
But I guess he won't try to jump them.  He'll probably walk
across their backs, the same as he has seen the other clowns do."
Teddy, however, had a different plan in mind.  He had espied
Mr. Sparling looking at him from across the tent, and he proposed
to let the owner see what he really could do.
For a moment the lad poised at the top of the springboard,
critically measuring the distance across the backs of the
assembled elephants.
"Go on, go on!" commanded the director.  "Do you think this show
can wait on your motion all day?  Jump, or get off the board!"
"Say, who's doing this you or I?" demanded Teddy in well-feigned
indignation, and in a voice that was audible pretty much all over
This drew a loud laugh from the spectators, who were now in a
frame of mind to laugh at anything the Fat Boy did.
"It doesn't look as if anyone were doing anything.
Somebody will be in a minute, if I hear any more of your talk,"
snapped the director.  "Are you going to jump, or are you going
to get off the board?"
"Well," shouted Teddy, "confidentially now, mind you.  Come over
I want to talk to you.  Confidentially, you know.  I'm going to
if you'll stop asking questions long enough for me to get away."
Amid a roar of laughter from spectators, and broad grins on the
part of the performers, Teddy took a running start and shot up
into the air.
"He's turning too quick," snapped Mr. Sparling.
Teddy, however, evidently knew what he was about.  Turning a
beautiful somersault, he launched into a second one with the
confidence of a veteran.  All the circus people in the big top
expected to see the lad break his neck.  Instead, however, Tucker
landed lightly and easily on his feet while the spectators
shouted their approval.  But instead of landing on the mat as he
thought he was doing, Teddy was standing on the back of the last
elephant in the line.
His double somersault had made him dizzy and the boy did not
realize that he had not yet reached the mat on the ground.
Bowing and smiling to the audience, the Fat Boy started to
Then Teddy fell off, landing in a heap on the hard ground.
He rose, aching, but the onlookers on the boards took it all
as a funny finish, and gleefully roared their appreciation.
MAROONED IN A FREIGHT CAR
"Catch him!  Catch him!  Catch that man!"
The parade was just passing when Phil shouted out the words
that attracted all eyes toward him.  It was to a policeman that
he appealed.
The lad had discovered a shock of red hair above the heads of the
people, and was gradually working his way toward the owner of it,
when all at once Red Larry discovered him.
Red pushed his way through the crowd and disappeared down an
alleyway, the policeman to whom the boy had appealed making no
effort to catch the man.
"What kind of a policeman are you, anyway?" cried Phil
in disgust.  "That fellow is a crook, and we have been on the
lookout for him for the last four weeks."
"What's he done?"
"Done?  Tried to poison one of the elephants, and a lot of
other things."
"The kid's crazy or else he belongs to the circus," laughed
a bystander.
Phil Forrest did not hear the speaker, however, for the boy had
dashed through the crowd and bounded into the alley where he had
caught a glimpse of a head of red hair a moment before.
But Larry was nowhere in sight.  He had disappeared utterly.
"I was right," decided Phil, after going the length of the alley
and back.  "He's been following this show right along, and
before he gets through he'll put us out of business if we don't
look sharp."
Considerable damage already had been done.  Horses and other
animals fell ill, in some instances with every evidence of
poisoning; guy ropes were cut, and the cars had been tampered
with in the railroad yards.
All this was beginning to get on the nerves of the owner of
the show, as well as on those of some of his people who knew
about it.  Things had come to a point where it was necessary
to place more men on guard about the lot to protect the
show's property.
At each stand of late efforts had been made to get the police to
keep an eye open for one Red Larry, but police officials do not,
as a rule, give very serious heed to the complaints of a circus,
especially unless the entire department has been pretty well
supplied with tickets.  Mr. Sparling was a showman who did not
give away many tickets unless there were some very good reason
for so doing.
Phil, in the meantime, had been at work in an effort to
satisfy his own belief that Larry was responsible for their
numerous troubles.  Yet up to this moment the lad had not caught
sight of Red; and now he had lost the scoundrel through the
laxity of a policeman.
There was no use "crying over spilled milk," as Phil
told himself.
The lad spent the next hour in tramping over the town where the
circus was to show that day.  He sought everywhere for Red,
but not a sign of the fellow was to be found.
As soon as the parade was over Phil hastened back to the lot to
acquaint Mr. Sparling with what he suspected.
"Do you know," said Phil, "I believe that fellow and his
companion are riding on one of our trains every night?"
"What?" exclaimed the showman.
"You'll find I'm right when the truth is known.  Then there's
something else.  There have been a lot of complaints about
sneak thieves in the towns we have visited since Red left us.
You can't tell.  There may be some connection between these
robberies and his following the show.  I'm going to get Larry
before I get through with this chase."
"Be careful, Phil.  He is a bad man.  You know what to expect
from him if he catches you again."
"I am not afraid.  I'll take care of myself if I see him coming.
The trouble is that Red doesn't go after a fellow that way."
Phil went on in his three acts as usual that afternoon,
after having spent an hour at the front door taking tickets,
to which task he had assigned himself soon after his talk with
Mr. Sparling.
It was instructive; it gave the boy a chance to see the people
and to get a new view of human nature.  If there is one place in
the world where all phases of human nature are to be found,
that place is the front door of a circus.
The Circus Boys, by this time, had both fitted into their new
acts as if they had been doing them for years--Phil doing the
bareback riding and Teddy tumbling in the leaping act, both lads
gaining the confidence and esteem more and more every day of
their fellow performers and the owner of the show.
That night, after the performance was ended, Phil stood around
for a time, watching the men at work pulling down the tent.
He had another motive, too.  He had thought that perchance he
might see something of the man he was in search of, for no better
time could be chosen to do damage to circus property than when
the canvas was being struck.
Then everyone was too busy to pay any attention to anyone else.
Teddy had gone on to pay his usual evening visit to the
accommodation car and at the same time make miserable the
existence of the worthy who presided over that particular car.
Phil waited until nearly twelve o'clock; then, deciding that it
would be useless to remain there longer, turned his footsteps
toward the railroad yards, for he was tired and wanted to get to
bed as soon as possible.
He found the way readily, having been over to the car once during
the morning while out looking for Red Larry.  The night was very
dark, however, and the yards, at the end from which he approached
them, were enshrouded in deep shadows.
On down the tracks Phil could see the smoking torches where the
men were at work running the heavy cages and canvas wagons up on
the flat cars.  Men were shouting and yelling, the usual
accompaniment to this proceeding, while crowds of curious
villagers were massed about the sides of the yard at that point,
watching the operations.
"That's the way I used to sit up and watch the circus get out
of town," mused Phil, grinning broadly, as he began hunting for
the sleeper where his berth was.
All at once the lights seemed to disappear suddenly from before
his eyes.  Phil felt himself slowly settling to the ground.
He tried to cry out, but could not utter a sound.
Then the lad understood that he was being grasped in a
vise-like grip.  That was the last he knew.
When Phil finally awakened he was still in deep,
impenetrable darkness.  The train was moving rapidly,
but there seemed to the boy to be something strange and
unusual in his surroundings.  His berth felt hard and unnatural.
For a time he lay still with closed eyes, trying to recall what
had happened.  There was a blank somewhere, but he could not
"Funny!  This doesn't seem like No. 11.  If it is, we must be
going over a pretty rough stretch of road."
He put out both hands cautiously and groped about him.
Phil uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Good gracious, I'm on the floor.  I must have fallen out of
Then he realized that this could not be the case, because there
was a carpet on the floor of No. 11.
This was a hard, rough floor on which he was lying, and the air
was close, very different from that in the well-kept sleeping car
in which he traveled nightly from stand to stand.
In an effort to get to his feet the lad fell back heavily.
His head was swimming dizzily, and how it did ache!
"I wonder what has happened?" Forrest thought out loud.  "Maybe I
was struck by a train.  No; that couldn't be the case, or I
should not be here.  But where am I?  I might be in one of
the show cars, but I don't believe there is an empty car on
As soon as Phil felt himself able to sit up he searched
through his pockets until he found his box of matches, which he
always carried now, as one could not tell at what minute they
might be needed.
Striking a light, he glanced quickly about him; then the match
"I'm in a freight car," he gasped.  "But where, where?"
There was no answer to this puzzling question.  Phil struggled to
his feet, and, groping his way to the door, began tugging at it
to get it open.  The door refused to budge.
"Locked!  It's locked on the outside!  What shall I do?
What shall I do?" he cried.
Phil sat down weak and dizzy.  There was nothing, so far as
he could see, that could be done to liberate himself from
his imprisonment.  Chancing to put his hand to his head,
he discovered a lump there as large as a goose egg.
"I know--let me think--something--somebody must have hit me an
awful crack.  Now I remember--yes, I remember falling down in the
yard there just as if something had struck me.  Who could have
done such a cruel thing?"
Phil thought and thought, but the more he thought about it the
more perplexed did he become.  All at once he started up,
with a sudden realization that the train was slowing down.
He could hear the air brakes grating and grinding and squealing
against the car wheels below him, until finally the train came to
a dead stop.
"Now is my chance to make somebody hear," Phil cried, springing
up and groping for the door again.
He shouted at the top of his voice, then beat against the heavy
door with fists and feet, but not a sign could he get that anyone
As a matter of fact, no one was near him at that moment.  The
freight train had stopped at a water tank far out in the country,
and the trainmen were at the extreme ends of the train.
In a few moments the train started with such a jerk that Forrest
was thrown off his feet.  He sprang up again, hoping that the
train might be going past a station there, and that someone might
hear him.  Then he began rattling at and kicking the door again.
It was all to no purpose.
Finally, in utter exhaustion, the lad sank to the floor, soon
falling into a deep sleep.  How long he slept he did not know
when at last he awakened.
"Why, the train has stopped," Forrest exclaimed, suddenly sitting
up and rubbing his eyes.  "Now I ought to make somebody hear me
because it's daylight.  I can see the light underneath the door.
I'll try it again."
He did try it, hammering at the door and shouting at intervals
during the long hours that followed.  Once more he lighted
matches and began examining his surroundings with more care.
Phil discovered a trap door in the roof, but it was closed.
"If only there were a rope hanging down, I'd be up there in no
he mused.  I wonder if I couldn't climb up and hang to the
I might reach it in that way.  I'm going to try it."
Deciding upon this, the Circus Boy, after no little effort,
succeeded in climbing up to one of the side braces in the car.
>From the plates long, narrow beams extended across the car, thus
supporting the roof.  Choosing two that led along near the trap,
Phil, after a few moments' rest, gripped one firmly in each hand
from the underside and began swinging himself along almost as if
he were traveling on a series of traveling rings, but with
infinitely more effort and discomfort.
His hands were aching frightfully, and he knew that he could hold
on but a few seconds longer.
"I've got to make it," he gasped, breathing hard.
At last he had reached the goal.  Phil released one hand and
quickly extended it to the trap door frame.
There was not a single projection there to support him,
nor to which he might cling.  His hand slipped away, suddenly
throwing his weight upon the hand grasping the roof timber.
The strain was too much.  Phil Forrest lost his grip and fell
heavily to the floor.
But this time he did not rise.  The lad lay still where he
THE BARNYARD CIRCUS
When next Phil opened his eyes he was lying on the grass
on the shady side of a freight car with someone dashing water
in his face, while two or three others stood around gazing at
him curiously.
"Whe--where am I?" gasped the boy.
"I reckon you're lucky to be alive," laughed the man who had been
soaking him from a pail of water.  "Who be ye?"
"My name is Phil Forrest."
"How'd ye git in that car?  Stealing a ride, eh?  Reckon we'd
better hand ye over to the town constable.  It's again the law to
steal rides on freight trains."
"I've not stolen a ride.  It's no such thing," protested
Phil indignantly.
"Ho, ho, that's a rich one!  Paid yer fare, hey?  Riding like a
gentleman in a side-door Pullman.  Good, ain't it, fellows?"
"Friends, I assure you I am not a tramp.  Someone assaulted me
and locked me in that car last night.  I've got money in my
pocket to prove that I am not a tramp."
The lad thrust his hands into his trousers' pockets, then a blank
expression overspread his face.  Reaching to his vest to see if
his watch were there, he found that that, too, was missing.
"I've been robbed," he gasped.  "That's what it was.
Somebody robbed and threw me into this car last night.
See, I've got a lump on my head as big as a man's fist."
"He sure has," agreed one of the men.  "Somebody must a given him
an awful clout with a club."
"What town is this, please?"
"Mexico, Missouri."
"How far is it from St. Joseph?"
"St. Joseph?  Why, I reckon St. Joe is nigh onto a hundred and
fifty miles from here."
Phil groaned.
"A hundred and fifty miles and not a cent in my pocket!
What shall I do?  Can I send a telegram?  Where is the station?"
"Sunday.  Station closed."
"Sunday?  That's so."
Phil walked up and down between the tracks rather unsteadily,
curiously observed by the villagers.  They had heard his groans
in the freight car on the siding as they passed, and had quickly
liberated the lad.
"Do you think I could borrow enough money somewhere here to get
me to St. Joseph?  I would send it back by return mail."
The men laughed long and loud.
"What are you in such a hurry to get to St. Joe for?" demanded
the spokesman of the party.
"Because I want to get back to the circus."
"Circus?" they exclaimed in chorus.
"Yes.  I belong with the Sparling Combined Shows.  I was on my
way to my train, in the railroad yards, when I was knocked out
and thrown into that car."
"You with a circus?"  The men regarded him in a new light.
"Yes; why not?"
This caused them to laugh.  Plainly they did not believe him.
Nor did Phil care much whether they did or not.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Church time."
He knew that, for he could hear the bells ringing off in the
village to the east of them.
"I'll tell you what, sirs; I have got to have some breakfast.
If any of you will be good enough to give me a meal I shall be
glad to do whatever you may wish to pay for it.  Then, if I
cannot find the telegraph operator, I shall have to stay over
until I do."
"What do you want the telegraph man for?"
"I want to wire the show for some money to get back with.
I've got to be there tomorrow, in time for the show.  I must do
it, if I have to run all the way."
The men were impressed by his story in spite of themselves;
yet they were loath to believe that this slender lad, much the
worse for wear, could belong to the organization he had named.
"What do you do in the show?"
"I perform on the flying rings, ride the elephant and ride
bareback in the ring.  What about it?  Will one of you put
The villagers consulted for a moment; then the spokesman turned
"I reckon, if you be a circus feller, you kin show us some
tricks, eh?"
"Perform for you, you mean?"
"Well, I don't usually do anything like that on Sunday," answered
the Circus Boy reflectively.
"Eat on Sunday, don't you?"
"When I get a chance," Phil grinned.  "I guess your argument
I've got to eat and I have offered to earn my meal.  What do you
want me to do?"
"Kin you do a flip?"
Phil threw himself into a succession of cartwheels along the edge
of the railroad tracks, ending in a backward somersault.
"And you ride a hoss without any saddle, standing up on his
back--you do that, too?"
"Why, yes," laughed Phil, his face red from his exertion.
"Then, come along.  Come on, fellers!"
Phil thought, of course, that he was being taken to the man's
home just outside the village, where he would get his breakfast.
He was considerably surprised, therefore, when the men passed the
house that his acquaintance pointed out as belonging to himself,
and took their way on toward a collection of farm buildings some
distance further up the road.
"I wonder what they are going to do now?" marveled Phil.
"This surely doesn't look much like breakfast coming my way,
and I'm almost famished."
The leader of the party let down the bars of the farmyard,
conducting his guests around behind a large hay barn, into an
enclosed space, in the center of which stood a straw stack,
the stack and yard being surrounded by barns and sheds.
"Where are you fellows taking me?  Going to put me in the stable
with the live stock?" questioned Phil, laughingly.
"You want some breakfast, eh?"
"Certainly I do, but I'm afraid I can't eat hay."
The men laughed uproariously at this bit of humor.
"Must be a clown," suggested one.
"No, I am not a clown.  My little friend who performs with me,
and comes from the same town I do, is one.  I wish he were here.
He would make you laugh until you couldn't stand without leaning
against something."
"Here, Joe!  Here, Joe!" their guide began calling in a loud
voice, alternating with loud whistling.
Phil heard a rustling over behind the straw stack, and then out
trotted a big, black draft horse, a heavy-footed, broad-backed
Percheron, to his astonishment.
"My, that's a fine piece of horse flesh," glowed the lad.
"We have several teams of those fellows for the heavy work with
the show.  Of course we don't use them in the ring.  Is this what
you brought me here to see?"
"Yep.  Git up there."
"What do you mean?"
"Git up and show us fellers if you're a real circus man."
"You mean you want me to ride him?" said Phil.
"Sure thing."
"Git on his back and do one of them bareback stunts you was
telling us about," and the fellow winked covertly at his
companions, as much as if to say, "we've got him going
"What; here in this rough yard?"
Phil considered for a moment, stamping about on the straw-covered
ground, then sizing up the horse critically.
"All right.  Bring me a bridle and fasten a long enough rein to
the bit so I can get hold of it standing up."
He was really going to do as they demanded.  The men were
They had not believed he could, and now, at any rate, he was
to make an effort to make good his boast.
A bridle was quickly fetched and slipped on the head of old Joe.
In place of reins the farmer attached a rope to the bridle,
Phil measuring on the back of the horse to show how long it
should be cut.
The preparations all complete, Phil grasped the rein and
vaulted to the high back of the animal, landing astride neatly.
This brought an exclamation of approval from the audience.
"Now git up on your feet."
"Don't be in a hurry.  I want to ride him around the stack a few
times to get the hang of the ring," laughed Phil.  "It's a good,
safe place to fall, anyway.  Do I get some breakfast after
this exhibition?" he questioned.
"That depends.  Go on."
"Gid-dap!" commanded Phil, patting the black on its powerful
Then they went trotting around the stack, the men backing off to
get a better view of the exhibition.
On the second round Phil drew up before them.
"Got any chalk on the place?" he asked.
"Reckon there's some in the barn."
"Please fetch it."
They did not know what he wanted chalk for, but the owner of
the place hurried to fetch it.  In the meantime Phil was slowly
removing his shoes, which he threw to one side of the yard.
Bidding the men break up the chalk into powder, he smeared the
bottoms of his stockings with the white powder, sprinkling a
liberal supply on the back of the horse.
"Here, here!  What you doing?  I have to curry that critter down
every morning," shouted the owner.
Phil grinned and clucked to the horse, whose motion he had caught
in his brief ride about the stack, and once more disappeared
around the pile.  When he hove in sight again, the black was
trotting briskly, with Phil Forrest standing erect, far back on
the animal's hips, urging him along with sharp little cries, and
dancing about as much at home as if he were on the solid ground.
The farmers looked on with wide-open mouths, too amazed to speak.
Phil uttered a shout, and set the black going about the
stack faster and faster, throwing himself into all manner of
artistic positions.
After the horse had gotten a little used to the strange work,
Phil threw down the reins and rode without anything of the sort
to give him any support.
Probably few farm barnyards had ever offered an attraction like
"Come up here!" cried the lad, to the lighter of the men.
"I'll give you a lesson."
The fellow protested, but his companions grabbed him and threw
him to old Joe's back.  Phil grabbed his pupil by the coat
collar, jerking him to his feet and started old Joe going at a
lively clip.
You should have heard those farmers howl, at the ludicrous sight
of their companion sprawling all over the back of the black, with
Phil, red-faced, struggling with all his might to keep the fellow
on, and at the same time prevent himself taking a tumble!
At last the burden was too much for Phil, and his companion took
an inglorious tumble, head first into the straw at the foot of
the stack, while the farmers threw themselves down, rolling about
and making a great din with their howls of merriment.
"There, I guess I have earned my breakfast," decided the lad,
dropping off near the spot where he had cast his shoes.
"You bet you have, little pardner.  You jest come over to the
house and fill up on salt pork and sauerkraut.  You kin stay all
summer if you want to.  Hungry?"
"So hungry that, if my collar were loose, it would be falling
down over my feet," grinned the lad.
WHEN THE CRASH CAME
There was rejoicing on the part of his fellows, and relief in
the heart of Mr. Sparling when, along toward noon next day,
Phil Forrest came strolling on the circus lot at St. Joseph.
His friends, the farmers, had not only given him food and
lodging, but had advanced him enough money for his fare through
to join the show.  His first duty was to get some money from
Mr. Sparling and send it back to his benefactors.
This done, Phil repaired to the owner's tent where he knew Mr.
Sparling was anxiously waiting to hear what had happened to him.
Phil went over the circumstances in detail, while Mr. Sparling
listened gravely at first, then with rising color as his
anger increased.
"It's Red Larry!" decided Mr. Sparling, with an emphasizing blow
of his fist on the desk before him.
"After I thought the matter over that was what I decided--I mean
that was the decision I came to."
"Right.  Another season I'll have an officer with this show.
That's the only way we can protect ourselves."
"Do all the big shows carry an officer?" asked Phil.
"Yes; they have a detective with them--not a tin badge detective,
but a real one.  Don't try to go out today.  Get your dinner and
rest up for the afternoon performance.  I think you had better go
to the train in my carriage tonight.  I'm not going to take any
more such chances with you."
"I'll look out for myself after this, Mr. Sparling," laughed
"I think it was only two days ago that I said I wasn't afraid of
Larry--that he couldn't get me.  But he did."
That afternoon, as Phil related his experiences to the dressing
tent, he included the barnyard circus, which set the performers
Phil felt a little sore and stiff after his knockout and his
long ride in the freight car; but, after taking half an hour of
bending exercises in the paddock, he felt himself fit to go on
with his ring and bareback acts.
Both his acts passed off successfully, as did the Grand Entry in
which he rode old Emperor.
That night, after the performance, Phil hurried to the train,
but kept a weather eye out that he might not be assaulted again.
He found himself hungry, and, repairing to the accommodation car
for a lunch, discovered Teddy stowing away food at a great rate.
"So you're here, are you?" laughed Phil.
"Yep; I live here most of the time," grinned Teddy.  "They like
to have me eat here.  I'm a sort of nest egg, you know.  It makes
the others hungry to see me eat, and they file in in a
perfect procession.  How's your head?"
"Still a size too large," answered Phil, sinking down on a stool
and ordering a sandwich.
As the lads ate and talked two or three other performers came in,
whereupon the conversation became more general.
All at once there came a bang as a switching engine bumped into
the rear of their car.  Teddy about to pass a cup of steaming
coffee to his lips, spilled most of it down his neck.
"Ouch!" he yelled, springing up, dancing about the floor,
holding his clothes as far from his body as possible.  "Here, you
quit that!" he yelled, poking his head out of a window.  "If you
do that again I'll trim you with a pitcher of coffee and see how
you like that."
Once more the engine smashed into them, having failed to make the
coupling the first time.
Teddy sat down heavily in the middle of the car, just as Little
Dimples tripped in.  In one hand he held a sandwich half
consumed, while with the other he was still stretching his collar
as far from his neck as it would go.
"Why, Teddy," exclaimed Dimples, "what are you doing on the
"Eating my lunch.  Always eat it sitting on the floor, you know,"
growled the boy, at which there was a roar from the others.
"What are they trying to do out there?" questioned Phil.
"Going to shift us about on another track, I guess.  I was nearly
thrown down when I tried to get on the platform.  I never saw a
road where they were so rough.  Did you?"
"Yes; I rode on one the other night that could beat this,"
grinned Phil.
A few minutes later the car got under motion, pushed by a
switching engine, and began banging along merrily over switches,
tearing through the yard at high speed.
"We seem to be in a hurry 'bout something," grunted Teddy.
"Maybe they've hooked us on the wrong train, and we're bound for
somewhere else."
"No, I don't think so," replied Phil.  "You should be used to
this sort of thing by this time."
"I don't care as long as the food holds out.  It doesn't make any
difference where they take us."
"What section does this car go out on tonight, steward?"
questioned Phil.
"The last.  Goes out with the sleepers."
"That explains it.  They are shifting us around, making up the
last section and to get us out of the way of section No. 2.
I never can keep these trains straight in my mind, they change
them so frequently.  But it's better than riding in a canvas
wagon over a rough country road, isn't it, Teddy?"
"Worse," grunted the lad.  "You never know when you're going to
get your everlasting bump, and you don't have any net to fall in
when you do.  Hey, they're at it again!"
His words were almost prophetic.
There followed a sudden jolt, a deafening crash, accompanied by
cries from the cooks and waiters at the far end of the car.
"Get a net!" howled Teddy.
"We're off the rails," cried the performers.
"Look out for yourselves!"
Little Dimples was hurled from her stool at the lunch counter,
and launched straight toward a window from which the glass was
showering into the car.
Phil made a spring, catching her in his arms.  But the impact
and the jolt were too much for him.  He went down in a heap,
Little Dimples falling half over him.
He made a desperate grab for her, but the woman's skirts
slipped through his hand and she plunged on toward the far end
"Look out for the coffee boiler."
A yell from a waiter told them that the warning had come
too late.  The man had gotten a large part of the contents
of the boiler over him.
But all at once those in the car began to realize that something
else was occurring.  Somehow, they could feel the accommodation
car wavering as if on the brink of a precipice.  Then it began to
settle slowly and the mystified performers and car hands thought
it was going to rest where it was on the ties.
Instead, the car took a sudden lurch.
"We're going over something!" cried a voice.
Phil, who had scrambled quickly to his feet, half-dazed from the
fall, stood irresolutely for a few seconds then began making his
way toward where Little Dimples had fallen.
At that moment young Forrest was hurled with great force against
the side of the car.  Everything in the car seemed suddenly to
have become the center of a miniature cyclone.  Dishes, cooking
utensils, tables and chairs were flying through the air, the
noise within the car accompanied by a sickening, grinding series
of crashes from without.
Groans were already distinguishable above the deafening crashes.
Those who were able to think realized that the accommodation car
was falling over an embankment of some sort.
Through accident or design, what is known as a "blind switch" had
been turned while the engine was shunting the accommodation car
about the yards.  The result was that the car had left the rails,
bumped along on the ties for a distance, then had toppled over an
embankment that was some twenty feet high.
It seemed as if all in that ill-fated car must be killed or
maimed for life.  A series of shrill blasts from the engine
called for help.
The crash had been heard all over the railroad yards.
Railroad men and circus men had rushed toward the spot where
the accommodation car had gone over the embankment, Mr. Sparling
among the number.  He had just arrived at the yards when the
accident occurred.
Fortunately, the wrecking crew was ready for instant service,
and these men were rushed without an instant's delay to the
outskirts of the yard where the wreck had occurred.
However, ere the men got there a startling cry rose from hundreds
"Fire!  The car is on fire!"
"Break in the doors!  Smash the sides in!"
Yet no one seemed to have the presence of mind to do anything.
Phil had been hurled through a broken widow, landing halfway down
the bank, on the uphill side of the car, else he must have been
crushed to death.  But so thoroughly dazed was he that he was
unable to move.
Finally someone discovered him and picked him up.
"Here's one of them," announced a bystander.  "It's a kid, too."
Mr. Sparling came charging down the bank.
"Who is it?  Where is he?" he bellowed.
"It's Phil Forrest," cried one of the showmen, recognizing the
lad, whose face was streaked where it had been cut by the jagged
glass in the broken window.
"Is he killed?"
"No; he's alive.  He's coming around now."
Phil sat up and rubbed his eyes.
All at once he understood what had happened.  He staggered to his
feet holding to a man standing beside him.
"Why don't you do something?" cried Phil.  "Don't you know there
are people in that car?"
"It's burning up.  Nobody dares get in till the wreckers can get
here and smash in the side of the car," was the answer.
"What?" fairly screamed Phil Forrest.  "Nobody dares go in
that car?  Somebody does dare!"
"Come back, come back, Phil!  You can't do anything," shouted a
fellow performer.
But the lad did not even hear him.  He was leaping, falling
and rolling down the bank, regardless of the danger that he was
approaching, for the flames already showed through a broken spot
in the roof of the car, which was lying half on its side at the
foot of the embankment.
Without an instant's hesitation Phil, as he came up alongside,
raised a foot, smashing out the remaining pieces of glass in
a window.  Then he plunged in head first.
The spectators groaned.
"Dimples!  Dimples!" he shouted.  "Are you alive?"
"Yes, here.  Be quick!  I'm pinned down!"
Phil rushed to her assistance.  Her legs were pinioned beneath
a heavy timber.  Phil attacked it desperately, tugging and
grunting, the perspiration rolling down his face, for the heat
in there was now almost more than he could bear.
With a mighty effort he wrenched the timber from the prostrate
woman, then quickly gathered her up in his arms.
"I knew you'd come, Phil, if you were alive," she breathed,
her head resting on his shoulder.
"Do you know where Teddy is?" he asked, plunging through the
blinding smoke to the window where voices already were calling
"At the other end--I think," she choked.
The lad passed her out to waiting arms.
"Come out!  Come out of that!" bellowed the stentorian voice of
Mr. Sparling.  But Phil had turned back.
"Teddy!" he called, the words choked back into his throat by the
suffocating smoke.
"Wow!  Get me out of here.  I'm--I'm," then the lad went off into
a violent fit of coughing.
By this time two others, braver than the rest, had climbed in
through the window.
"Where are they all?" called a voice.
"I don't know.  You'll have to hunt for them.  I'm after you,
Are you held down by something, too?"
"The whole car's on me, and I'm burning up."
Phil, guided by the boy's voice, groped his way along and soon
found his hands gripped by those of his little companion.
"Where are you fast?"
It proved an easy matter to liberate Teddy and drag him to the
window, where Phil dumped him out.
Mr. Sparling had climbed in by this time, and the wrecking crew
were thundering at the roof to let the smoke and flames out,
while others had crawled in with their fire extinguishers.
There were now quite a number of brave men in the car all working
with desperate haste to rescue the imprisoned circus people.
"All out!" bellowed the foreman of the wrecking crew.  "The roof
will be down in a minute!"
"All out!" roared Mr. Sparling, himself making a dash for
Others piled out with a rush, the flames gaining very rapid
headway now.
"Phil!  Phil!  Where's Forrest?" called Mr. Sparling.
"He isn't here.  Maybe--"
"Then he's in that car.  He'll be burned alive!  No one can live
five minutes in there now!"
The fire department had arrived on the scene, and the men were
running two lines of hose over the tracks.
"Phil in there?"
It was a howl--a startled howl rather than a spoken question.
The voice belonged to Teddy Tucker.
Teddy rushed through the crowd, pushing obstructors aside,
and hurled himself through the window into the burning car.
He looked more like a big, round ball than anything else.
No sooner had Tucker landed fairly inside than he uttered a yell.
There was no answer.
Teddy went down like a flash, bowled over by a heavy stream of
water from the firemen's hose.
As it chanced he fell prone across a heap of some sort,
choking and growling with rage at what had befallen him.
"Yes," answered a voice from the heap.
"I've got him!" howled Teddy, springing up and dragging the
half-dazed Phil Forrest to the window.  There both boys were
hauled out, Teddy and Phil collapsing on the embankment from
the smoke that they had inhaled.
"Phil!  Teddy!" begged Mr. Sparling, throwing himself
beside them.
"Get a net!" muttered Teddy, then swooned.
CHAPTER XXII
WHAT HAPPENED TO A PACEMAKER
"Find out how that car came to tumble off," were the first words
Phil uttered after they had restored him to consciousness.
Teddy, however, was bemoaning the loss of the sandwich that he
had bought but had not eaten.
"The accident shall be investigated by me personally before
this section leaves the yard," said Mr. Sparling.  "I am glad
you suggested it, Phil.  How do you feel?"
"I am all right.  Did somebody pull me out?"
"Yes, Teddy did.  You are a pair of brave boys.  I guess this
outfit knows now the stuff you two are made of, if it never did
before," glowed Mr. Sparling.
"How many were killed?"
"None.  The head steward has a broken leg, one waiter a few ribs
smashed in, and another has lost a finger.  I reckon the railroad
will have a nice bill of damages to pay for this night's work.
Were you in the car when it occurred?"
"Yes.  They had been handling it rather roughly.  We spoke of it
at the time.  We were moving down the yard when suddenly one end
seemed to drop right off the track as if we had come to the end
Mr. Sparling nodded.
"I'll go into it with the railroad people at once.  You two get
into your berths.  Can you walk?"
"How about you, Tucker,"
"I can creep all right.  I learned to do that when I was in
long pants."
"I guess you mean long dresses," answered the showman.
"I guess I do."
The boys were helped to the sleeper, where they were put to bed.
Phil had been slightly burned on one hand while Teddy got what he
called "a free hair cut," meaning that his hair had been pretty
well singed.  Otherwise they were none the worse for their
experiences, save for the slight cuts Phil had received by
coming in contact with broken glass and some burns from the
coffee boiler.
They were quite ready to go to sleep soon after being put to bed,
neither awakening until they reached the next show town on the
following morning.
When the two lads pulled themselves up in their berths the sun
was well up, orders having been given not to disturb them.
"Almost seven o'clock, Teddy," cried Phil.
"Don't care if it's seventeen o'clock," growled Teddy.
"Lemme sleep."
"All right, but you will miss your breakfast."
That word "breakfast" acted almost magically on Tucker.
Instantly he landed in the middle of the aisle on all fours, and,
straightening up, began groping sleepily for his clothes.
Phil laughed and chuckled.
"How do you feel, Teddy?"
"Like a roast pig being served on a platter in the cook tent.
Do you need a net this morning?"
"No, I think not.  I'm rather sore where I got cut, but I guess
I am pretty fit otherwise."
After washing and dressing the lads set out across the fields
for the lot, which they could see some distance to the west of
the sidings, where their sleepers had been shifted.  Both were
hungry, for it is not an easy matter to spoil a boy's appetite.
Railroad wrecks will not do it in every case, nor did they
But, before the morning ended, the cook tent had seen more
excitement than in many days--in fact more than at any time so
far that season.
The moment Phil and Teddy strolled in, each bearing the marks of
the wreck on face and head everybody, except the Legless Man,
stood up.  Three rousing cheers and a tiger for the Circus Boys,
were given with a will, and then the lads found themselves the
center of a throng of performers, roustabouts and freaks all of
whom showered their congratulations on the boys for their heroism
in saving other's lives at the risk of their own.
Little Dimples was not one whit behind the others.  She praised
them both, much to Phil's discomfiture and Teddy's pleasure.
"Teddy, you are a hero after all," she beamed.
"Me?  Me a hero?" he questioned, pointing to himself.
"Yes, you.  I always knew you would be if you had half a chance.
Of course Phil had proved before that he was."
Teddy threw out his chest, thrusting both hands in his
trousers pockets.
"Oh, I don't know.  It wasn't so much.  How'd you get out?"
"Your friend, Phil, here, is responsible for my not being in the
freak class this morning.  There's Mr. Sparling beckoning to you.
I think he wants you both."
The boys walked over as soon as they could get away from
the others.  That morning they sat at the executive table
with the owner of the show, his wife and the members of
Mr. Sparling's staff.
For once Teddy went through a meal with great dignity,
as befitted one who was in the hero class.
"What happened to cause the wreck last night?" asked Phil,
turning to his host of the morning at the first opportunity.
"The car went off over a blind switch that had been opened."
"Ah, that's the question."
"Perhaps one of the railroad men opened it by mistake,"
suggested Teddy.  "Nobody else would have a key."
"You'll find no railroad man made that blunder," replied Phil.
"No!  While the railroad is responsible for the damages,
I hardly think they are for the wreck.  No key was used to open
the switch."
"How, then?"
"The lock was wrenched off with an iron bar and the switch
wedged fast, so there could be no doubt about what would happen.
It might have happened to some other car not belonging to us,
though it was a pretty safe gamble that it would catch one
"I thought as much," nodded Phil.  "But perhaps its just as
"What do you mean by that?" questioned the showman sharply.
"That the railroad folks will do what the police are too lazy
"Get after the fellow who did it," suggested Phil wisely.
"That's so!  That's so!  I hadn't thought of it in that
light before.  You've got a long head, my boy.  You always
have had, for that matter as long as I have known you, so it
stands to reason that you must always have been that way."
Teddy, having finished his breakfast, excused himself and
strolled off to another part of the tent where he might find
more excitement.  He sat down in his own place near the freak
table and began talking shop with some of the performers, while
Phil and Mr. Sparling continued their conversation.
"I haven't given up hopes of catching him myself, Mr. Sparling."
"You came pretty close to it Saturday night."
"And I wasn't so far from it last night either," laughed the boy.
"Going to be able to save the accommodation car?"
"No, it's a hopeless wreck."
"You probably will not put on another this season then?"
"What would you suggest?"
"I should not think it would be advisable.  Most of the people go
downtown, anyway, to get their lunch after the show."
"Exactly.  That's the way it appeared to me, but I wanted to get
your point of view."  It was not that the owner had not made up
his mind, but that he wanted to get Phil Forrest's mind working
from the point of view of the manager and owner of a circus,
seeing in Phil, as he did, the making of a future great showman.
All at once their conversation was disturbed by a great uproar at
the further end of the tent, near where Teddy sat.
Two midgets, arguing the question as to which of them was the
Smallest Man in the World, had become so heated that they fell to
pummeling each other with their tiny fists.
Instantly the tent was in confusion, and with one accord
the performers and freaks gathered around to watch the
miniature battle.
A waiter in his excitement, stepped in a woodchuck hole, spilling
a bowl of steaming hot soup down the Fat Woman's neck.
"Help!  Help!  I'm on fire!" she shrieked.
Teddy, now that he had become a hero, felt called upon to hurry
to the rescue.  Seizing a pitcher of ice water, he leaped over a
bench and dumped the contents of the pitcher over the head of the
Fattest Woman on Earth.  Several chunks of ice, along with a
liberal quantity of the water, slid down her neck.
This was more than human flesh could stand.  The Fat Woman
staggered to her feet uttering a series of screams that might
have been heard all over the lot, while those on the outside
came rushing in to assist in what they believed to be a
serious disturbance.
Mr. Sparling pushed his way through the crowd, roaring out
command after command, but somehow, the ring about the Fat Woman
and the fighting midgets did not give way readily.  The show
people were too much engrossed in the funny spectacle of the
midgets to wish to be disturbed.
Not so Teddy Tucker.
Having quenched the fire that was consuming the Fat Woman,
he pushed his way through the crowd, with the stern command,
"Stand aside here!" and fell upon the Lilliputian gladiators.
"Break away!" roared Teddy, grasping each by the collar and
giving him a violent tug.
What was his surprise when both the little men suddenly turned
upon him and started pushing and beating him.
Taken unawares, Teddy began to back up, to the accompaniment of
the jeers of the spectators.
The crowd howled its appreciation of the turn affairs had taken,
Teddy steadily giving ground before the enraged Lilliputians.
As it chanced a washtub filled with pink lemonade that had been
prepared for the thirsty crowds stood directly in the lad's path.
If anyone observed it, he did not so inform Teddy.
All at once the Circus Boy sat down in the tub of pink lemonade
with a loud splash, pink fluid spurting up in a veritable
fountain over such parts of him as were not already in the tub.
Teddy howled for help, while the show people shrieked with
delight, the lad in his efforts to get out of the tub, falling
back each time, until finally rescued from his uncomfortable
position by the owner of the show himself.
"That's what you get for meddling with other peoples' affairs,"
chided Phil, laughing immoderately as he observed the rueful
countenance of his friend.
"If I hadn't meddled with you last night, you'd have been a dead
one today," retorted the lad.  "Anyway, I've made a loud splash
this morning."
CHAPTER XXIII
SEARCHING THE TRAIN
Salt Lake City proved an unusual attraction to the Circus Boys,
they having read so much of it in story and textbooks.
Here they visited the great Mormon Temple.  During their two day
stand they made a trip out to the Great Salt Lake where Teddy
Tucker insisted in going in swimming.  His surprise was great
when he found that he could not swim at all in the thick,
salty water.
The trip over the mountains, through the wonderful scenery of the
Rockies and the deep canyons where the sunlight seldom reaches
was one of unending interest to them.
Most of the show people had been over this same ground with other
circuses many times before, for there are few corners of the
civilized world that the seasoned showman has not visited at
least once in his life.
It was all new to the Circus Boys, however, and in the long day
trips over mountain and plain, they found themselves fully
occupied with the new, entrancing scenes.
By this time both lads had become really finished performers in
their various acts, and they had gone on through the greater part
of the season without serious accident in their work.  Of course
they had had tumbles, as all showmen do, but somehow they managed
to come off with whole skins.
For a time after the wreck of the accommodation car the show had
no further trouble that could be laid at the door of Red Larry
or his partner.  However, after a few days, the reports of
burglaries in towns where the show exhibited became even
more numerous.
"We can't furnish police protection to the places we visit,"
answered Mr. Sparling, when spoken to about this.  "But, if ever
I get my hands on that red head, the fur will fly!"
Passing out of the state of Utah, a few stands were made in
Nevada, but the jumps were now long and it was all the circus
trains could do to get from stand to stand in time.  As it was,
they were not always able to give the parade, but the manager
made up for this by getting up a free show out in front of the
big top just before the afternoon and evening performances began.
Reno was the last town played in Nevada, and everyone breathed a
sigh of relief as the tents were struck and the show moved across
the line into California.  The difficulty of getting water for
man and beast had proved a most serious one.  At Reno, however,
a most serious thing had occurred, one that disturbed the owner
of the show very greatly.
Many of the guy ropes holding the big top, had been cut while the
performance was going on and most of the canvasmen and laborers
were engaged in taking down and loading the menagerie outfit.
A wind storm was coming up, but fortunately it veered off before
reaching Reno.  The severed ropes were not discovered until after
the show was over and the tent was being struck.  Mr. Sparling
had been quickly summoned.  After a careful examination of the
ropes he understood what had happened.  Phil, too, had discovered
one cut rope and the others, on his way from the dressing tent to
the front, after finishing his performance.
But there was nothing now that required his looking up
Mr. Sparling, in view of the fact that the canvas was already
coming down.  Yet after getting his usual night lunch in the
town, the lad strolled over to the railroad yards intending to
visit the manager as soon as the latter should have returned
from the lot.
The two met just outside the owner's private car, a short time
after the loading had been completed.
"Oh, I want to see you, Mr. Sparling, if you have the time."
"I've always time for that.  I was in hopes I would get a
chance to have a chat with you before we got started.  Will you
"Yes, thank you."
Entering the private car Mr. Sparling took off his coat and threw
himself into a chair in front of his roll-top desk.
"Phil, there's deviltry going on in this outfit again," he said
fixing a stern eye on the little Circus Boy.
Phil nodded.
"You don't seem to be very much surprised."
"I'm not.  I think I know what you mean."
"You do?  What for instance?"
"The cutting of those ropes tonight," smiled Phil.
"You know that?"
The lad nodded again, but this time with more emphasis.
"Is there anything that goes on in this outfit that you do not
know about?"
"Oh, I presume so.  If I hadn't chanced to walk over a place
where there should have been a guy rope I probably never should
have discovered what had been done."
"I'll bet you would," answered the owner, gazing at the
lad admiringly.
"It is fortunate for us that we did not have a wind storm during
the evening."
"Fortunate for the audience, I should say.  Nothing could have
held the tent with those ropes gone.  It showed that the cordage
had been cut by someone very familiar with the canvas.  Almost a
breath of wind would have caused the whole big top to collapse,
and then a lot of people might have been killed.  Well, the
season is almost at an end now.  If we are lucky we shall soon be
"All the more reason for getting the fellow at once,"
nodded Phil.
"After a few days we shall be closing, and then we shall not get
an opportunity."
"That's good logic.  I agree with you.  I shall be delighted
to place these hands of mine right on that fiend's throat.
But first, will you tell me how I am going to do it?
Haven't we been trying to catch him ever since those two
men were discharged?  Both of them are in this thing."
"I think you will find that there is only one now.  I believe
Larry is working alone.  I haven't any particular reason for
thinking this; it just sort of seems to me to be so."
"Any suggestions, Phil?  I'll confess that I am at my wits' end."
"Yes, I have been thinking of a plan lately."
"What is it?"
"Have the trains searched."
"You will remember my saying, sometime ago, that I believed the
fellow was still traveling with us and--"
"But how--where could he ride that he would not be sure
of discovery?" protested Mr. Sparling.
"He has friends with the show, that's how," answered
Phil convincingly.
"You amaze me."
"All the same, I believe you will find that to be the case."
"And you would suggest searching the trains?"
"Now.  No; I don't mean at this very minute.  I should suggest
that tomorrow morning, say at daybreak, you send men over this
entire train.  Don't let them miss a single corner where a man
might hide."
"Yes; but this isn't the only train in the show."
"I know.  At the first stop, or you might do it here before
we start, wire ahead to your other train managers to do the
same thing.  Tell them who it is you suspect.  You'll be able to
catch the squadron before they get in, though I do not believe
our man will be found anywhere on that train."
"The squadron went out before the guy ropes were cut."
"Great head!  Great head, Phil Forrest," glowed the manager.
"You're a bigger man than I am any day in the week.
Then, according to your reasoning, the fellow ought either
to be on this section or the one just ahead of it?"
"Yes.  But don't laugh at me if I don't happen to be right.
It's just an idea I have gotten into my head."
"I most certainly shall not laugh, my boy.  I am almost
convinced that you are right.  At least, the plan is well worth
carrying out.  I'll give the orders to the train managers before
"I would suggest that you tell them not to give the orders to the
men until ready to begin the search in the morning."
"Good!  Fine!" glowed the showman.
"I'm going to turn out and help search this section myself,"
said Phil.  "You know I have some interest in it, seeing that
it is my plan," he smiled.
"Better keep out of it," advised Mr. Sparling.  "You might fall
off from the cars.  You are not used to walking over the tops
"Oh, yes I am.  I have done it a number of times this season just
to help me to steady my nerves.  I can walk a swaying box car in
a gale of wind and not get dizzy."
Mr. Sparling held up his hands protestingly.
"Don't tell me any more.  I believe you.  If you told me you
could run the engine I'd believe you.  If there be anything you
don't know how to do, or at least know something about, I should
be glad to know what that something is."
"May I send your messages?" asked the lad.  "If you will write
them now I'll take them over to the station.  It must be nearly
starting time."
"Yes; it is.  No; I'll call one of the men."
Mr. Sparling threw up his desk and rapidly scribbled his
directions to the train managers ahead.  After that he sent
forward for the manager of their particular section, to whom he
confided Phil Forrest's plan, the lad taking part in the
discussion that followed.  The train manager laughed at the idea
that anyone could steal a ride on his train persistently without
being detected.
Mr. Sparling very emphatically told the manager that what he
thought about it played no part in the matter at all.  He was
expected to make a thorough search of the train."
"His search won't amount to anything" thought Phil shrewdly.
"I'll do the searching for this section and I'll find the fellow
if he is on board.  I hope I shall.  I owe Red Larry something,
and I'm anxious to pay the debt."
The train soon started, Phil bidding his employer good night,
went forward to No. 1 which was the forward sleeper on the train,
next to the box and flat cars.  He peered into Teddy Tucker's
berth, finding that lad sound asleep, after which he tumbled into
his own bed.
But Phil was restless.  He was so afraid that he would oversleep
that he slept very little during the night.
At the first streak of dawn he tumbled quietly from his berth,
and, putting on his clothes, stepped out to the front platform,
where he took a long breath of the fresh morning air.
The train was climbing a long grade in the Sierra Nevadas and the
car couplings were groaning under the weight put upon them.
Phil climbed to the top of the big stock car just ahead of him,
and sat down on the brake wheel.
Far ahead he saw several men going over the cars.
"They have not only begun the search but they are almost
through," muttered Phil.  "As I thought, they are not half
doing it.  I guess I'll take a hand."
Phil stood up, caught his balance and began walking steadily
over the top of the swaying car.  At the other end of the car he
opened the trap door which was used to push hay through for the
animals, examining its interior carefully.  There was no sign of
a stranger inside, nor did he expect to find any there.
"He'll be in a place less likely to be looked into," muttered the
lad starting on again and jumping down to a flat car just ahead.
CHAPTER XXIV
"There's somebody climbing over the train," called one of the
searchers to the train manager.
All hands turned, gazing off toward Phil.  He swung his hands
toward them, whereat they recognized the lad and went on about
"Wonder they saw even me!" grumbled the lad, moving slowly along.
It seemed almost impossible that one could hide on a train
like that.  Here and there men were sleeping under the wagons,
and Phil made it his business to get a look into the face of
each of them.  Not a man did he find who bore the slightest
resemblance to Red Larry or Bad Eye.
"It doesn't look very promising, I must say," he muttered,
jumping lightly from one flat car to another.
Phil had searched faithfully until finally he reached a "flat"
just behind that on which stood the great gilded band wagon.
Now, under its covering of heavy canvas, none of its gaudy
trimmings were to be seen.
Phil sat down on the low projection at the side of the flat car,
eyeing the band wagon suspiciously.
Somehow he could not rid himself of the impression that that
wagon would bear scrutiny.
"I'll bet they never looked into it.  Last year when we were a
road show, I remember how the men used to sleep in there and how
Teddy got thrown out when he walked on somebody's face," and Phil
laughed softly at the memory.  "I'm going to climb up there."
To do this was not an easy matter, for the band wagon seemed to
loom above him like a tent.  The canvas stretched over it,
extending clear down to the wheels, to which it was secured
by ropes.  The only way the Circus Boy could get up into the
wagon seemed to be to crawl under the canvas at the bottom and
gradually to work his way up.
"I'm going to try it," he decided all at once.  "Of course
they didn't look into it.  Maybe they are afraid they will
find someone.  Well, here goes!  If I fall off that will be the
last of me, but I am not going to fall.  I ought to be able to
climb by this time if I'm ever going to."
Phil got up promptly, glanced toward the long train that was
winding its way up the steep mountain, then stepped across
the intervening space between the two cars.  He wasted no time,
but immediately lifted the canvas and peered along the side of
He discovered that he would have to go to the forward end of it
in order to reach the top, because the steps were at that end.
There the canvas was drawn tighter, so the lad untied one of the
ropes, leaving one corner of the covering flapping in the breeze.
Cautiously and quietly he began climbing up, the wagon swaying
dizzily with the motion of the train, making it more and more
difficult to cling to it as he got nearer the top.  The air was
close, and soon after the boy began going up, the sun beat down
on the canvas cover suffocatingly.
Now he had reached the top.  High seats intervened between him
and the other end, so that he could not see far ahead of him.
Phil dropped down into the wagon and began creeping toward
He stumbled over some properties that had been stowed in the
wagon, making a great clatter.  Instantly there was a commotion
in the other end of the car.
Phil scrambled up quickly and crawled over the high seat ahead
of him.  As he did so he uttered an exclamation.  The red head of
Red Larry could be seen, his beady eyes peering over the back of
"I've got you this time, Red!" exulted Phil, clambering over the
seat in such a hurry that he fell in a heap on the other side
The lad seemed to have no sense that he was placing himself in
grave peril.  He had no fear in his makeup, and his every nerve
was centered on capturing the desperate, revengeful man who had
not only assaulted Phil, but who had caused so much damage to the
Sparling Shows.
"Don't you dare come near me, you young cub!" threatened Red,
as with rage-distorted face he suddenly whipped out a knife.
Phil picked up a club and started toward him.  The club happened
to be a tent stake.  Red observed the action, and crouching low
waited as the lad approached him.
"I'm going to get you, Red!  I'm not afraid of your knife.
You can't touch me with it because before you get the chance
I'm going to slam you over the head with this tent stake,"
grinned Phil Forrest.
Red snarled and showed his teeth.
"Oh, you needn't think you can get away.  The men are hunting for
you further up the train.  They'll be along here in a minute, and
then I reckon you'll be tied up and dumped into the lion cage,
though I don't think even a lion would eat such a mean hound as
Suddenly the man straightened up.  Now, he held something in his
hand besides the knife.  It was a stake.
Red drew back his arm, hurling the heavy stick straight at his
young adversary's head.  Phil, observing the movement let
drive his own tent stake, but having to throw so hurriedly, his
aim was poor.  Red Larry's aim, on the other hand was better.
Phil dodged like a flash.
Had he not done so the stake would have struck him squarely in
the face.  As it was the missile grazed the side of his head,
causing the lad to fall in a heap.
Red Larry hesitated only for a second, then leaping to the high
rear seat of the wagon drew his knife along the canvas above him,
opening a great slit in it.  Through the opening thus made he
peered cautiously.  What he saw evidently convinced him of the
truth of what Phil had just said.  Up toward the head of the
train the searchers were at work, and from what Red had heard he
realized they were looking for him.
Red did not delay a second.  He scrambled out through the canvas
just as Phil pulled himself to his feet.  The lad could see the
fellow's legs dangling through the canvas.
Phil uttered a yell, hurling himself wildly over the high-backed
seats in an effort to catch and hold the legs ere Red could
get out.  But Larry heard him coming, and quickly clambered down
the back of the wagon to the deck of the flat car.
Phil once more grabbed up his own tent stake as he stumbled back
through the wagon.
"I've got you!" yelled the boy as he pulled himself up through
the opening, observing Red standing hesitatingly on the flat car
with a frightened look in his eyes.
"Hi!  Hi!" cried Phil, turning and gesticulating wildly at the
men further up the train "I've got him!  Hurry!  I--"
Something sang by his head and dropped quivering in the canvas
beyond him.  It was the discharged tentman's knife which he had
aimed at Phil, his aim having been destroyed by a lurch of the
car, thus saving the Circus Boy's life.
"Want to kill me, do you?  I've got you now!  The men are coming.
Don't you dare move or I'll drop this stake on you.  I can't miss
you this time."
Red after one hesitating glance, faced the front and leaped from
the train down the long, sloping cinder-covered bank.
Phil let drive his tent stake.  It caught Red on the shoulder,
bowling the rascal over like a nine pin.
Phil Forrest uttered a yell of exultation, suddenly dropping to
the floor of the car at the imminent risk of his life.
The men were now piling over the cars in his direction.  He did
not know whether they had seen Red jump or not.  Phil did not
waste any time in idle speculation.
"Come on!" he shouted, springing to the edge of the car,
keeping himself from falling by grasping a wheel of the wagon.
Then Phil Forrest did a daring thing.  Crouching low,
choosing his time unerringly, he jumped from the train.
Fortunately for him, the cars were running slowly up the
heavy grade.  But, slowly as they were going, the lad turned
several rapid handsprings after having struck the ground,
coming to a stop halfway down the slope, somewhat dazed
from the shock and sudden whirling about.
But he was on his feet in a twinkling, and running toward the
spot where Red was painfully picking himself up.  Phil slipped
and stumbled as the cinders gave way beneath his feet but ran
on with a grim determination not to let his man escape him
Both were now weaponless, so far as the lad knew.  Red had
possessed a revolver, but in his sudden jump from the train he
had lost it, and there was now no time to look for it.
When he saw Phil pursuing, Larry started on a run, but the lad,
much more fleet of foot, rapidly overhauled him, despite the
handicap that Phil had at the start.
"You may as well give up!  I'm going to catch you, if I have to
run all the way across the Sierra Nevada Range," shouted Phil.
Red halted suddenly.  Phil thought he was going to wait for him,
but the lad did not slacken his speed a bit because of that.
All at once, as Phil drew near, Red picked up a stone and hurled
it at his pursuer.  Phil saw it coming in time to "duck," and it
was well he did so, for Larry's aim was good.
"He must have been a baseball pitcher at sometime," grinned
the lad.  However, the fellow continued to throw until Phil saw
that he must do something to defend himself else he would surely
be hit and perhaps put out of the race altogether.
"So that's your game is it?" shouted the boy.  "I can
play ball, too."
With that the lad coolly began hunting about for stones, of which
he gathered up quite an armful, choosing those that were most
nearly round.  In the meantime Red had kept up his bombardment,
Phil dodging the stones skillfully.  Then he too, began to throw,
gradually drawing nearer and nearer to his adversary.
A small stone caught Phil a glancing blow on the left shoulder
causing him to drop his ammunition.  He could scarcely repress a
cry, for the blow hurt him terribly.  He wondered if his shoulder
had not been broken, but fortunately he had received only a
severe bruise.
It served, however, to stir Phil to renewed activity.
Grabbing all the stones he could gather in one sweep of his
hands he started on a run toward Red Larry, letting one drive
with every jump.  They showered around the desperate man like a
rain of hail.
All at once Larry uttered a yell of pain and anger.  One of
Phil's missiles had landed in the pit of the fellow's stomach.
Larry doubled up like a jacknife, and, dropping suddenly, rolled
rapidly toward the foot of the slope.
Phil, still clinging to his weapons, ran as fast as his slender
legs would carry him in pursuit of his man.
"I hit him!  I hit him!" he yelled.
In a moment he came up with Larry, but the lad prudently stopped
a rod from his adversary to make sure that the fellow was not
playing him a trick.  One glance sufficed to tell Phil that the
man had really been hit.
"I hope he isn't much hurt, but I'm not going to take any
Phil jerked off his coat and began ripping it up, regardless of
the fact that it was his best.  With the strands thus secured, he
approached his prisoner cautiously, then suddenly jumped on him.
Larry was not able to give more than momentary resistance.
Inside of three minutes Phil had the fellow's hands tied securely
behind his back.  Gathering the stones about him in case of need,
the lad sat down and wiped the perspiration from his brow.
"I guess that about puts an end to your tricks, my fine fellow,"
announced Phil.
The train had been finally stopped, and a force of men now dashed
back along the tracks.  They had been in time to view the last
half of the battle of the stones, and when Red went down they set
up a loud triumphant yell.  In a few minutes they had reached the
scene and had taken the prisoner in tow.
The train was at the top of the grade waiting, so the show people
and their captive were obliged to walk fully a mile to reach it.
Mr. Sparling, attracted by the uproar, had rushed from his
private car.  He now met the party a little way down the tracks.
"I got him!" cried Phil, when he saw the owner approaching.
Red was carried to the next stop on the circus train.  He was
not much hurt and had fully recovered before noon of that day,
much to Phil's relief, for he felt very badly that he had been
obliged to resort to stone throwing.  The lad would have
preferred to use his fists.  But, as the result of the capture,
Red Larry was put where he would bother circus trains no more for
some years.  He was sentenced to a long term in prison.
The Great Sparling Shows moved on, playing in a few more
towns, and, one beautiful morning drew up at the city by the
Golden Gate.  There the circus remained for a week, when the show
closed for the season.  But the lads were a long way from home,
toward which they now looked longingly.
Mr. Sparling invited them to return with him in his private car
which was to cross the continent attached to regular passenger
trains, the show proper following at its leisure.
This invitation both boys accepted gladly, and during the trip
there were many long discussions between the three as to the
future of the Circus Boys.  They had worked hard during the
season and had won new laurels on the tanbark.  But they had not
yet reached the pinnacle of their success in the canvas-covered
arena, though each had saved, as the result of his season's work,
nearly twelve hundred dollars.
Phil and Teddy will be heard from again in a following volume
entitled: "THE CIRCUS BOYS IN DIXIE LAND; Or, Winning the
Plaudits of the Sunny South."  Here they are destined to meet
with some of the pleasantest as well as the most thrilling
experiences of their circus career, in which both have many
opportunities to show their grit and resourcefulness.
This Etext was prepared for Project Gutenberg by Greg Berckes
The Circus Boys In Dixie Land
Winning the Plaudits of the Sunny South
by Edgar B. P. Darlington
I      UNDER CANVAS AGAIN
II     IN THEIR HOME TOWN
III    THE CIRCUS MAKES A CALL
IV     A FRIENDLY AUDIENCE
V      TAKEN BY SURPRISE
VI     IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
VII    SHIVERS AND HIS SHADOW
VIII   A RIVAL IN THE FIELD
IX     PHIL MAKES A DISCOVERY
X      THE CIRCUS BOY IS RECOGNIZED
XI     ON SULLY'S PRIVATE CAR
XII    LOCKED IN THE LINEN CLOSET
XIII   THROUGH RINGS OF FIRE
XIV    A DASH FOR FREEDOM
XV     OUTWITTING THE PURSUERS
XVI    THE BATTLE OF THE ELEPHANTS
XVII   MONKEYS IN THE AIR
XVIII  TEDDY TAKES A DROP
XIX    THE CIRCUS ON AN ISLAND
XX     DISASTER BEFALLS THE FAT LADY
XXI    ON A FLYING TRAPEZE
XXII   IN A LIVELY BLOW-DOWN
XXIII  THE LION HUNT
XXIV   CONCLUSION
The Circus Boys in Dixie Land
UNDER CANVAS AGAIN
"I reckon the fellows will turn out to see us tomorrow
night, Teddy."
"I hope so, Phil.  We'll show them that we are real circus
performers, won't we?"
Phil Forrest nodded happily.
"They know that already, I think.  But we shall both feel proud
to perform in our home town again.  They haven't seen us in the
ring since the day we first joined the show two years ago, and
then it was only a little performance."
"Remember the day I did a stunt in front of the circus billboard
"And fell in the ditch, head first?  I remember it," and
Phil Forrest laughed heartily.
"You and I weren't circus men then, were we?"
"But we are now."
"I guess we are," nodded Phil with emphasis.  "Still, we have
something to learn yet.  We are a couple of lucky boys, you and
I, Teddy Tucker.  Had it not been for Mr. Sparling we might still
have been doing chores for our board in Edmeston."
"Instead, we are getting our envelopes with sixty dollars
apiece in them from the little red ticket wagon every Tuesday
morning, eh?"
"I never thought I'd be able to earn so much money as that in a
whole year," reflected Teddy.
"Do you think we'll get any more 'raises' this season?"
"I haven't the least idea that we shall.  You know our contracts
are signed for the season at sixty dollars a week.  That surely
should be enough to satisfy us.  We shall be able to save a whole
lot of money, this year; and, if we have good luck, in five years
more we'll be able to have a little show of our own."
Teddy agreed to this with a reflective nod.
"What kind of show?"
"Well, that remains to be seen," laughed Phil.  "We shall be
lucky to have most any kind."
"Do you know what sort I'd like to have?"
"No.  What kind?"
"Wild West show, a regular Buffalo Bill outfit, with wild
Indians, cowboys, bucking ponies and whoop!  whoop!  Hi-yi-yi!
Teddy's eyes were glowing with excitement, while a dull red glow
showed beneath the tan on his face.
"I wouldn't get so excited about it," answered Phil,
highly amused.
"How'd you like that kind?"
"Not at all.  It's too rough.  Give me the circus every time,
with its life, its color, it's--oh, pshaw!  What's the use
talking about it?  Is there anything in the world more attractive
than those tents over there, with the flags of every nation
flying from center and quarter poles?  Is there, Teddy?"
"Well, no; I guess that's right."
For a moment the lads were silent.  They were sitting beneath a
spreading maple tree off, on the circus lot, a few rods from
where the tents were being erected.  A gentle breeze was stirring
the flags, billowing the white canvas of the tents in slow,
undulating waves.
"And to think that we belong to that!  Do you know, sometimes I
think it is all a dream, and I'm afraid I shall suddenly wake up
to find myself back in Edmeston with Uncle Abner Adams driving me
out of the house with a stick."
Phil's face grew solemn as those unhappy days under his uncle's
roof came back to him in a flood of disquieting memories.
"Don't wake up, then," replied Teddy.
"I think perhaps we had better both wake up if we expect to get
any breakfast.  The red flag is flying on the cook tent, which
means that breakfast is ready--in fact, breakfast must be pretty
well over by this time.  First thing we know the blue flag will
suddenly appear in its place, and you and I will have to hustle
downtown for something to eat.  It will be parade time pretty
"Breakfast?  Say, Phil, I'd forgotten all about breakfast."
"There must be something wrong with you, then, if you forget when
it's meal time.  As for myself, I have an appetite that would put
the Bengal tiger to shame.  Come along."
"I'm with you.  I'll show you whether my appetite has a reef in
it or not.  I can eat more than the living skeleton can, and for
a thin man he's got anything stopped for appetite that I ever
saw," answered Teddy Tucker, scrambling to his feet and starting
for the cook tent.
Yes; Teddy Tucker and Phil Forrest are the same boys who, two
seasons before, began their circus career by joining a road show,
each in a humble capacity.  It will be remembered how in "THE
CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS," Teddy and Phil quickly rose to
be performers in the ring; how Phil, by his coolness and bravery,
saved the life of one of the performers at the imminent risk of
losing his own; how he saved the circus from a great pecuniary
loss, as well as distinguishing himself in various other ways.
In "THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT," the lads won new
laurels in their chosen career, when Phil became a bareback
rider, scoring a great hit at his first performance.  It will be
recalled too, how the circus lad proved himself a real hero at
the wreck of the dining car, saving the lives of several persons,
finally being himself rescued by his companion, Teddy Tucker.
The Great Sparling Combined Shows had been on the road a week,
and by this time the various departments had gotten down to
fairly good working order, for, no matter how perfect such an
organization may be, it requires several days for the show people
to become used to working together.  This extends even to the
canvasmen and roustabouts.  After being a few weeks out they are
able to set the tents in from half an hour to an hour less time
than it takes during the first two or three stands of the season.
The next stand was to be Edmeston, the home of the two
Circus Boys.  The lads were looking forward with keen
expectation to the moment when, clad in tights and spangles,
they would appear before their old school fellows in a
series of daring aerial flights.
The lads had spent the winter at school and now only one year
more was lacking to complete their course at the high school that
they had been attending between circus seasons, practicing in
their gymnasium after school hours.
"I'd like to invite all the boys of our class to come to the show
on passes.  Do you suppose Mr. Sparling would let me?"
"I am afraid you had better not ask him," laughed Phil.  "If you
were running a store do you think you would ask the crowd to come
over and help themselves to whatever they wanted?"
"Well, no-o."
"I thought not."
"But this is different."
"Not so much so.  It would be giving away seats that could be
sold and that probably will be sold.  No; I guess the boys had
better pay for their seats."
Teddy looked disappointed.
"Don't you think it is worth fifty cents to see us perform?"
queried Phil.
Teddy grinned broadly.  The idea appealed to him in a new light.
"That's so.  I guess it's worth more than fifty cents, at that.
I guess I don't care if they do have to pay, but I want them to
come to the show.  What do you suppose I've been working two
years for, if it wasn't to show off before the fellows?
Haven't you?"
"What then?"
"Why, what do you think?"
"I don't think.  It's too hot to think this morning."
"All right.  Wait till someday when the weather is cooler; then
think the matter over," laughed Phil, hurrying on toward where
breakfast was waiting for them in the cook tent.
The lads were performing the same acts in which they had
appeared the previous season; that is, doing the flying rings
as a team, while Phil was a bareback rider and Teddy a tumbler.
Something had happened to the bucking mule that Teddy had
ridden for two seasons, and the manager had reluctantly been
forced to take this act from his bill.
"I'm thinking of getting another mule for you, if we can pick up
such a thing," said Mr. Sparling at breakfast that morning.
Teddy's eyes twinkled.  He had in mind a surprise for the
manager, but was not quite ready to tell of his surprise yet.
All during the winter the lad had been working with a donkey that
he had picked up near Edmeston.  His training of the animal had
been absolutely in secret, so that none of his school fellows,
save Phil, knew anything about it.
"All right," answered Teddy carelessly.  "Wait till we get to
Edmeston and see what we can pick up there."
Mr. Sparling bent a shrewd, inquiring glance on the impassive
face of the Circus Boy.  If he suspected Teddy had something in
mind that he was not giving voice to, Mr. Sparling did not
mention it.  By this time he knew both boys well enough to form a
pretty clear idea when there was anything of a secret nature in
"We'll never get another mule like Jumbo," he sighed.
"Hope not," answered Teddy shortly.
" 'Cause, I don't want to break my neck this season, at least
not till after we've passed Edmeston and the fellows have
seen perform."
"So that's it, is it?"
"It is.  I'm going to show myself tomorrow, and I don't care who
"If I remember correctly you already have shown yourself pretty
thoroughly all the way across the continent."
"And helped fill the big top at the same time," added Teddy, with
a shrewd twinkle in his eyes.
Mr. Sparling laughed outright.
"I guess you have a sharp tongue this morning."
"I don't mean to have."
"It's all right.  I accept your apology.  What's this you say
about the fellows--whom do you mean?"
"He means our class at the high school," Phil informed
the showman.
"Oh, yes.  How many are there in the class?"
"Let me see--how many are there, Teddy?"
"Thirty or forty, not counting the fat boy who's the anchor in
the tug of war team.  If you count him there are five more."
"I presume they'll all be wanting to come to the show?"
questioned Mr. Sparling.
"Any fellow who doesn't come is no friend of mine."
"That's the way to talk.  Always have the interest of the show in
mind, and you'll get along," smiled the owner.
"We-e-l-l," drawled the lad.  "I wasn't just thinking about the
interest of the show.  I was thinking more about what a figure
I'd be cutting before the boys."
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"You are honest at any rate, Master Teddy.  That's one thing
I like about you.  When you tell me a thing I do not have to
go about asking others to make sure that you have told me
"Why shouldn't I?  I'm not afraid of you."
"No; that's the worst of it.  I should like to see something you
really are afraid of."
"I know what he is afraid of," smiled Phil maliciously.
"What?" demanded Mr. Sparling.
"He is afraid of the woman snake charmer under the black top.
He's more afraid of her than he is of the snakes themselves.
Why, you couldn't get him to shake hands with her if you were
to offer him an extra year's salary.  There she is over there
now, Teddy."
Teddy cast an apprehensive glance at the freak table, where
the freaks and side show performers were laughing and chatting
happily, the Lady Snake Charmer sandwiched in between the
Metal-faced Man and Jo-Jo the Dog-faced Wonder.
"I've been thinking of an idea, Mr. Sparling," said Teddy by way
of changing the subject.
Phil glanced at him apprehensively, for Teddy's ideas were
frequently attended by consequences of an unpleasant nature.
"Along the usual line young man?"
"What is your idea?"
"I've been thinking that I should like to sign up as a dwarf for
the rest of the season and sit on the concert platform in the
menagerie tent.  It wouldn't interfere with my other
performance," said Teddy in apparent seriousness.
Mr. Sparling leaned back, laughing heartily.
"Why, you are not a dwarf."
"No-o-o.  But I might be."
"How tall are you?"
"A little more than five feet," answered the lad with a touch of
pride in his tone.
"You are almost a man.  Why, Teddy, you are a full twenty inches
taller than the tallest dwarf in the show."
Teddy nodded.
"Don't you see you could not possibly be a`dwarf?"
"Oh, yes, I could.  All the more reason why I could."
"What kind of a dwarf would you be, may I ask?"
"I could be the tallest dwarf on earth, couldn't I?" asked Teddy,
gazing at his employer innocently.
Everyone at the table broke out into a merry peal of laughter,
while Teddy Tucker eyed them sadly for a moment; then he too
added his laughter to theirs.
"If you were not already getting a pretty big salary for a kid,
I'd raise your salary for that," exploded Mr. Sparling.
"You can forget I'm getting so much, if you want to," suggested
Teddy humorously.
IN THEIR HOME TOWN
"Hey, Phil!"
"What is it, Teddy?"
"Wake up!  We are in the old town again."
Phil Forrest pulled aside the curtain and peered out from his
berth into the railroad yards, the bright May sunshine flooding
the old familiar scenes at Edmeston.  Far off he could just make
out the red brick chimney of his Uncle Abner's home.
What recollections it brought back to Phil Forrest--recollections
that went back still further to a sweet face and laughing eyes
Phil dropped the curtain and lay face down in the pillow for
"I say, Phil."
"What is it?" demanded the lad in a muffled voice.
"Guess who's out there?"
"I don't know."
"The gang's out there."
"The gang.  The whole high school crowd."
"They're looking for us.  Lucky we're on the last section, for
if it was dark, we couldn't make much of a splurge getting off
the train.  Aren't you going to get up?"
Phil slowly pulled himself from his berth, then began drawing on
his clothes.  Teddy was already up and nearly dressed, full of
expectation of what was before him.  For Phil there was something
that tinged his joy with sadness, though he could not make up his
mind why it should be so.  His reverie was broken in upon by the
voice of Teddy Tucker.
"Come, hurry up!"
"I am all ready now," answered Phil.  "Have you washed?"
"You bet.  I always wash the first thing in the morning."
Together the Circus Boys stepped out on the platform.
There, lined up by the side of the track, were their
companions and school fellows waiting to welcome them.
The high school boys uttered a shout when they espied Phil
"How'dy, fellows!" greeted Teddy, posing on the car platform for
a moment, that they might gaze upon him admiringly.
Phil was already on the ground, hurrying toward the boys with
both hands outstretched.  A moment more and the two lads had been
grabbed by their schoolmates and literally overwhelmed, while a
crowd of villagers stood off against a pile of lumber, laughing
and calling out greetings to the Circus Boys.
Phil and Teddy, as soon as they were able to get away, hurried to
the circus lot for their breakfast.  There they found a great
crowd of people whom they knew, and for a few minutes they were
kept busy shaking hands, after which the boys with faces wreathed
in smiles, proudly entered the cook tent.  Teddy glanced up
quizzically when they got inside.
"Well I guess we're some, eh, Phil?"
"I guess so.  I hope everything goes all right today.  I should
die of mortification if anything were to happen to our acts.
You want to keep your mind right on your work today.  Don't pay
any attention to the audience.  Remember a whole lot of people
are coming to this show today just because they are interested
in you and me."
"I guess I know how to perform," sputtered Teddy.
"I haven't said you do not.  I know you do, but I don't want you
to forget that you do."
"Look out for yourself.  I'll take care of myself,"
growled Teddy.
"I'm going to."
Having finished their breakfast the boys started for the
village, to call on Mrs. Cahill, their guardian and the
custodian of their earnings.  As they were leaving the
grounds, Phil paused suddenly.
"Look there," he said, pointing to Mr. Sparling's office tent.
"Well, if it isn't Billy Ford, the president of our class,"
breathed Teddy.  "I didn't see him at the train when we came in
this morning; did you?"
"No.  He wasn't there."
"Now, what do you suppose he is doing in Mr. Sparling's tent?"
"I haven't the least idea unless he is trying to find out where
we are.  Hey, Billy!"
Billy Ford paused at the sound of the familiar call; then the
Circus Boys hurried toward him.  Billy went suddenly red in the
face as if he were very much embarrassed.
"What you doing in there?" demanded Teddy.
"Why--why--perhaps I was trying to join the show,"
stammered Billy.
"We wouldn't have you.  You and I couldn't travel in the
same show.  They'd fire us both."
"Why?" questioned Billy, now regaining his presence of mind.
" 'Cause, between us we'd put the show out of business."
"I believe you would," nodded Phil.
"Where you going, boys?"
"Mrs. Cahill's."
"Then I'll walk down that way with you.  What time do you get
through at night?"
"We finish our last act about ten o'clock," answered Phil.
"Oh, nothing much.  I just wanted to know."
Phil shot a swift, suspicious glance at the schoolboy, but
Billy's face bore an expression as serene as the May morning
of that very day.
Mr. Sparling hailed the lads as they were leaving the lot.
"You may be excused from parade today, both of you.  You no doubt
will want to spend all the time you can with your friends."
"Thank you," smiled Phil.  "There's the finest man a fellow ever
worked for."
"Worked?  Do you call performing in a circus work?"
"Well, at least it is a pretty good imitation of work, Billy."
"I used to think just like you do," added Teddy rather ruefully.
"Is it really work then?"
"Oh, no; it's just play.  Come to the show and you will see
"By the way," inquired Phil, "the fellows are all coming this
afternoon, I suppose?"
"Yes, but not this afternoon."
"That will be fine.  We have a short run tonight, so the boss
will not be in any hurry to move the show.  You'll see it all."
"Why, don't you always give it all?"
"No.  Sometimes, when the weather is bad, or when we have a
long run before us, Mr. Sparling cuts some of the acts out
entirely, and shortens others.  But, of course, the audience
doesn't know this."
"Is that so?" wondered the surprised Billy.
"Yes.  Are you boys all going to sit together?"
"Yes.  We'll be where we can see you.  And the girls are going
to be there, too.  I reckon the whole school will be on hand."
"How about Uncle Abner--will he go to the show, do you think?"
"I know where you'll find him," spoke up Teddy.
"You'll find him hiding behind the hen house watching the parade
go by.  He won't dare show himself after the way the clowns had
fun with him when the show was here before."
"Poor Uncle Abner!  I must go over and see him after we have
called on Mrs. Cahill."
Arriving at Mrs. Cahill's, they found her out in the yard,
arrayed in her best dress in honor of their coming, and it was
a joyful meeting between the three.  In a short time, however,
Teddy grew restless and decided that he would wander about town
and call on his other friends.
"I'll tell you what let's do, Teddy," suggested Phil.
"You come back before parade time and we three will sit on the
front door step and watch the parade go by, just as we used to
do before we went into the show business.  I'll run over to see
Uncle Abner in the meantime, and we will both be back here by
half-past ten.  The parade will not get along before then."
"Yes, do, boys," urged Mrs. Cahill.  "I'll have a lunch for you
after the parade.  You will like that, will you not?"
"I should say we shall," laughed Phil.  "But, I had rather
thought you might like to eat with us under the circus tent."
"Oh, my, my!  Eat with the circus?"
"Not with the animals, he doesn't mean," corrected Teddy.
"He means we should like to have you eat with we performers."
"Yes, with the performers," grinned Phil.
"Can I eat there with you just as well after the
afternoon performance?"
"Then we will have our noon meal here.  I have some fresh
molasses cookies already baked for you."
"Cookies?"  Teddy's eyes brightened.
"Yes; do you want some now?"
"I always want cookies.  Never knew a time when I didn't.  I want
'em when I'm awake, and I want 'em when I'm asleep."
He got a double handful in short order.
"Well, I'm off!" announced Teddy.
"How about the parade?  Will you come back and see it from here?"
"Yes; I guess that would be some fun.  I can make faces at the
other performers who have to work.  Yes; I'll come back."
"Don't forget about the donkey," called Phil.  "When are you
going to take him over to the horse tent?"
"I'm not going to give myself away by leading that fright through
the streets.  I've fixed it with one of the hostlers to smuggle
him over to the stable tent," grinned Teddy.
"Taking him in this afternoon?"
"Not I.  Saving that for a grand surprise tonight.  What are you
going to do to surprise the fellows?"
"I hadn't thought.  Nothing quite so sensational as your feat
will be, I guess," laughed Phil.
In the course of an hour both lads had returned to Mrs. Cahill's
humble home.  But while they were away from the show grounds, the
owner of the show, without the knowledge of the lads, had paid a
visit to the principal of the school and was back on the lot in
time to head the parade when it finally started.
"Kinder wish I had gone in the parade," regretted Teddy.
"Good place to show off."
"You have a much better one."
"In the ring.  Anybody can ride a horse in a parade, but not
everyone can perform on the flying rings and leap over elephants
Teddy instinctively threw out his chest.
"You're right, at that.  Hark!"
"Yes; they are coming.  I can hear Billy English blow the
big bass horn.  You could hear him over three counties, I
really believe."
Laughing and chatting, the boys settled themselves on Mrs.
Cahill's hospitable doorstep to await the arrival of the parade
which could be heard far off on the other side of the village.
Now and then the high, metallic notes of the calliope rose
above all the rest, bringing a glint of pride to the eyes of
Teddy Tucker.
"I just love that steam music machine."
"Well, I must say that I do not admire your taste," laughed Phil.
"It's the most hideous discord of noises I ever heard.  I never
did like the steam piano, but a circus wouldn't be a circus
without it."
"Nope," agreed Teddy with emphasis.
Down the street a gorgeously colored rainbow slowly reached
around a bend and began straightening away toward the
Cahill home.  The parade was approaching.
As the gay procession drew nearer the boys began to evince some
of the enthusiasm that they had known before they themselves had
become a part of the big show.
"Remember the parade two years ago, Phil?" asked Mrs. Cahill.
"I could not very well forget it.  That was a red letter day in
my life, the day when I fell into the show business."
"And that wasn't all you fell in either," added Teddy.
"What else did I fall in?"
"In a ditch when you stopped the runaway pony."
Phil did not laugh.  He was thinking.
"That was a lucky fall, too."
"Because it was the means of giving you and me our start in the
circus business."
"Hurrah!  Here they come.  Now see me make faces at them when
they go by," said Teddy.
The Cahill home was near the outskirts of the village, and as the
golden chariot of the band, glistening in the bright morning
sunlight, approached, the lads could not repress an exclamation
"I used to think the band wagon was solid gold," breathed Teddy.
"When did you find out differently?"
"That day, two years ago, when I scraped off some of the gold
with my knife and found it was nothing but wood," grunted Teddy
in a disgusted tone.
"What is that band wagon trying to do?" demanded Phil suddenly.
"Guess they are going to turn around," said Teddy.
The six white horses attached to the band wagon slowly drew out
of the line just before reaching the Cahill home, and pointed
toward the roadside fence.  The boys could not understand what
the move meant.  An instant later the leaders straightened out
and began moving along the side of the road close to the fence.
They slowly drew up to the door yard, coming to a stop at the
far end of it.
"Wha--wha--" stammered Teddy.
"They are going to serenade us," cried Phil.  "That's Mr.
Sparling all over.  What do you think of that, Mrs. Cahill?
You never were serenaded by a circus band before, were you?"
"N-n-no," answered the widow, a little tremulously.
The band wagon drew up a few feet further, coming to a stop again
just to the left of the dooryard gate, so as not to interfere
with the party's view of the parade.
"There's Mr. Sparling," shouted Phil, as the owner in his
handsome carriage drawn by four black horses, came abreast
of the yard.
Both boys sprang up and cheered him in their enthusiasm, to which
the showman responded by taking off his hat, while the band
struck up "Yankee Doodle."
It was a glorious moment for the Circus Boys, and they were
even more surprised and gratified by what followed a few
moments later.
THE CIRCUS MAKES A CALL
While the band played, the clown wagon came to a halt and
the whole body of funny men sang a song in front of Mrs.
Cahill's house, while the widow and her two young guests
applauded enthusiastically.
As the clown's wagon drew on, a horse ridden by a young woman was
seen dashing straight at the dooryard fence, which it took in a
graceful leap, causing the Widow Cahill to gasp her amazement.
The rider was none other than Little Dimples, the star bareback
rider of the Sparling Shows, who had chosen this way to pay
homage to her young associates and to Mrs. Cahill as well.
It was an unusual procedure in a circus parade, but though it had
been arranged by Mr. Sparling out of the kindness of his heart,
he shrewdly reasoned that it would make good business for the
show as well.  That the people lined up along the street agreed
with his reasoning was evidenced by their shouts of applause.
"Mrs. Cahill, this is our very good friend, Mrs. Robinson,
otherwise known as Little Dimples," announced Phil proudly.
Mrs. Cahill bowed and smiled, not the least bit embarrassed.
"You haven't introduced my pony, Phil.  The pony is part of
little me, you know."
"I beg pardon, Mrs. Cahill; let me introduce to you Mrs.
Robinson's pony, Cinders, who, though he cannot talk, comes
pretty close to it," said Phil, with great dignity.
Cinders bowed and bowed, the bits rattling against his teeth
until it sounded to the little gathering as if he were trying
to chatter his pleasure at the introduction.
"Now, shake hands with Mrs. Cahill, Cinders," directed
Little Dimples.
Cinders extended a hoof, which Mrs. Cahill touched gingerly.
She was not used to shaking hands with horses.  Teddy and Phil,
however, each grasped the pony's extended foot, giving it a good
shake, after which Phil thrust a lump of sugar into the waiting
lips of Cinders.
"Naughty boy!" chided Little Dimples, tapping the neck of her
mount with the little riding crop she carried.  "You would spoil
him in no time.  I must be going, now.  I hope we shall see you
at the show this afternoon, Mrs. Cahill," smiled Dimples, her
face breaking out into dimples and smiles.
The widow nodded.
"This afternoon and tonight.  She is going to dine with us under
the cook tent this afternoon," Phil informed the rider.
"That will be fine."
Dimples nodded, tossed her whip in the air and clucking to
Cinders, went bounding over the fence.  A moment more and she
had taken her place in the line and was moving along with the
procession, bowing and smiling.
"That's what I call right fine," glowed Mrs. Cahill.  "Did you
say that little thing was Mrs. Robinson?"
"Why, she looks like a young girl."
"That's what I thought when I first saw her.  But she has a son
as old as I am."
"Land sakes!" wondered Mrs. Cahill.  "You never can tell about
these circus folks, anyhow."
Phil laughed heartily, but Teddy was too much interested in what
was going on outside the fence to indulge in laughter.  The band
was still playing as if its very existence depended upon keeping
up the noise, while the white horses attached to the band wagon
were frantically seeking to get their heads down for a nibble of
the fresh green grass at the side of the road.
"There come the bulls," called Teddy.
"Yes, I see them."
"The bulls?" wondered Mrs. Cahill.  "I didn't know they had bulls
in the circus."
"That's what the show people call the elephants," laughed Phil.
"Teddy is talking show-talk now.  We have a language of our own."
"I should say you do?" grumbled the widow.
"What's the bull in front got on his trunk, Phil?"
Phil shaded his eyes and gazed off down the street.
"That's my friend Emperor.  I don't know what it is he
is carrying.  That's queer.  I never saw him carrying
anything in parade before, did you?"
For a moment both lads directed their attention to making out
what it was that Emperor was carrying along.
"It looks to me like a basket of flowers," finally decided Phil.
"Has somebody been handing him a bouquet," grunted Teddy.
"It certainly looks that way."
"Why, I really believe he is coming in here."
"Coming here--an elephant coming into my front yard?  Mercy me!"
exclaimed Mrs. Cahill, starting up.
"Why, Mrs. Cahill, Emperor wouldn't hurt a little baby.  I hope
he does come in.  Sit still.  Don't be afraid."
"He'll spoil my flower beds--he'll trample them all down and
after I've worked four weeks getting--"
"Yes; here he comes," exulted Phil.
At that moment Emperor, with his trainer, Mr. Kennedy, swung out
of line and entered the garden gate.  Turning to the left they
headed directly across the lawn.  The precious flower beds lay
right in his path.
"Oh, my flowers!  They're ruined," moaned the widow.
"Watch him and you'll see," answered Phil, his face wreathed
She did, and her eyes opened wider when Emperor cautiously raised
one ponderous foot after another until he had stepped clear of
the first bed of flowers.  The same thing happened when he got to
the second bed.  Not even the imprint of his footfalls was left
on the fresh green grass of the lawn.
Mrs. Cahill's eyes were large and wondering.  A sudden impulse
stirred her to spring up and flee into the house.
Phil, noting it, laid a restraining hand lightly, on her arm.
"Don't be afraid," he reassured.  "Emperor will not harm you.
You see how careful he is of your lawn and your flower beds.
I think he is coming here for some purpose."
Emperor and his trainer came to a half right in front of the
porch, the elephant's little eyes fixed upon the slender form
of Phil Forrest.
"Good boy, Emperor!" breathed Phil.  "Did somebody present a
basket of flowers to you?"
It was a big basket, and such a handsome collection of
flowers did it contain as to cause Mrs. Cahill to open her
eyes in wonder.  A card was tied to the handle of the basket
with a big pink ribbon.  Phil began to understand the meaning
of the scene, and he felt sure the name on the card was that
of Mrs. Cahill.
A low spoken command from the trainer, and Emperor cautiously got
down on his knees, keeping those small eyes on Phil Forrest all
"Mrs. Cahill, Emperor has been commissioned by the Great Sparling
Combined Shows to present a basket of flowers to you in the name
of Mr. Sparling himself, and the show people, too.  He has
carried it all the way from the lot this morning," declared
Mr. Kennedy.
The people on the street were now pressing closer, in order
to see what was going to happen.  Phil was smiling broadly,
while Teddy was hugging himself with delight at Mrs.
Cahill's nervousness.
"Emperor, give the flowers to the lady," commanded the trainer.
Slowly, the big elephant's trunk stretched out, extending the
basket toward her inch by inch, while the widow instinctively
shrank far back in her chair.
At last the trunk reached her.
"Take it," said Phil.
She grasped the basket with a muttered, "thank you."
"Say good-bye, Emperor," directed the trainer.
Emperor curled his trunk on high, coughed mightily, then rising
on his hind legs until he stood almost as high as the widow's
cottage, he uttered a wild, weird trumpeting that fairly shook
Mrs. Cahill, in her fright, suddenly started back, her chair
tipped over and she landed in a heap on the ground at the end
of the porch.
A FRIENDLY AUDIENCE
The afternoon performance had passed without a hitch.
While there were many town people there the greater part
of the audience, which nearly filled the big tent, was
composed of visitors from the country.
Great applause greeted the performances of Phil Forrest and
Teddy Tucker, but the two Circus Boys were saving their best
efforts for the evening performance when all their friends
would be present.
Mrs. Cahill, after her tumble, had been picked up by the lads
who insisted that she shake the trunk of Emperor before he left
the lawn.  And now that she had seen the afternoon show, taking
a motherly pride in the performance of her boys, as she proudly
called them, the kindhearted woman sat down to a meal in the
cook tent, which proved one of the most interesting experiences
of her life.
As the hour for the evening performance approached there was an
unusual bustle in the dressing tent.  By this time the whole show
had taken a keen interest in the affairs of the Circus Boys, who
had been known to the performers--at least, to most of them--for
the past two years.
Teddy had paid sundry mysterious visits to the horse tent, and
held numerous confidential conversations with the equestrian
director, all of which was supposed to have been unknown to
Mr. Sparling, the owner of the show.
But, while Teddy was nursing his secret, Mr. Sparling also was
keeping one of his own, one which was to be a great surprise to
the two Circus Boys.
The first surprise was given when the clowns came out for their
first entry.  Lining up in front of the reserved seats, where
the high school boys and girls sat, they sang a song in which
they brought in the names of every member of Phil's class.
This elicited roars of laughter from the spectators, while
the school boys and girls waved their crimson and white class
flags wildly.
The whole class was there as the guests of the management of
the show.  This was one of Mr. Sparling's surprises, but not
the only one he was to give them that night.
Next came the leaping act, somersaulting from a springboard and
in the end jumping over the herd of elephants.  Teddy was so
effectively disguised by his clown makeup that, for some time,
the class did not recognize him.  When finally they did, through
some familiar gesture of his own, the boys and girls set up a
perfect howl of delight in which the audience joined with
enthusiastic applause, for Teddy, with all his clumsy ways,
was one of the best tumblers in the show.  He had developed
marvelously since the close of the show the fall before.
Never had Teddy tumbled as he did that night.  He took so many
chances that Mr. Sparling, who was on the side lines, shouted a
word of caution to him.
"You'll break your neck, if you're not careful."
In answer to the warning, Teddy took a long running start and
did a double turn in the air, over the backs of the elephants,
landing plump into the waiting arms of a bevy of painted clowns,
the spectators evincing their appreciation by shouting out
Teddy's name.
Teddy's chest swelled with pride as he waved his hand and shook
his head as if to say: "Oh, that's nothing!  You ought to see me
when I'm really working."
The band played on and the show moved along with a merry medley
of daring deeds and furious fun from the clowns.
At last, in response to the command of the ringmaster's whistle,
the band ceased playing and silence fell over the tent as the
ringmaster raised his hand for silence.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said.  "The next act will be a
bareback riding feat unexcelled in any show in the world.
In ring No. 1 the famous equestrienne, Little Dimples, will
entertain you with her Desperate, Daring Dips of Death that
defy imitation.  In ring No. 2 you will recognize a fellow
townsman--a townsboy, I should say.  It will not be necessary
for me to mention his name.  Suffice it to say that, although
he has been riding for less than a year, he has already risen
to the enviable position of being one of the foremost bareback
riders of the sawdust arena.  I think that's all I have to say.
Your friends will do the rest."
The ringmaster waved his hand to the band, which instantly blared
forth and to its music Phil Forrest tripped lightly down the
concourse, being obliged to go three-fourths of its length to
get to the ring where he was to perform.
His journey led him right past the grandstand seats where his
admiring school fellows were sitting, or rather standing.  As a
matter of fact, every one of them had risen to his feet by this
time and was shouting out Phil's name.
As he drew nearer they began to chant, keeping time with his
footsteps and the music of the band:
"Phil, Phil--Phillip F!  Rah, rah!  Siss-boom-ah!"
The Circus Boy grinned happily and waved his whip at them as
"I hope I won't make a fool of myself," he thought.
He had no intention of doing so.  He had a few tricks that he was
going to show his friends, and incidentally surprise Mr. Sparling
himself, for Phil, who now owned his own ring horse, had been
practicing in secret all winter on the act that he was going to
attempt for the first time in public that evening.
Discarding his slippers and chalking the bottoms of his riding
pumps, Phil began his act by riding standing on the rump of
his mount, to get his equilibrium and his confidence at the
Then the lad began throwing himself into his work, which
increased in speed as the moments passed, until his supple,
slender body was flashing here and there on the back of the
handsome gray, causing the eyes of the spectators fairly to ache
in their efforts to keep track of him.
The people voiced their excitement by yells of approval and howls
"My, but that boy can ride!" muttered Mr. Sparling, who had been
watching the act critically.  "In fact, I should like to know
what he cannot do.  If he had to do so, he could run this show
fully as well as can I--and perhaps better at that," added the
showman, with a grin.
Now the band struck up the music for the concluding number of
"I wonder what he has up his sleeve," mused Mr. Sparling
shrewdly, suspecting that Phil was about to try something he had
never done in the ring before.  "I hope he won't take any long
chances, for I can't afford to have anything happen to my little
star performer."
As a matter of fact both Phil and Teddy Tucker had become star
performers, and were so featured on the circus bills, where
their pictures had been placed for this, their third season out.
The year before they had appeared on the small bills in the shop
windows, but now they had the satisfaction of seeing themselves
portrayed in life-size on the big boards.
Phil sent his ring horse forward at a lively gait, which grew
faster and faster, as he sat lightly on the animal's rump, urging
All at once he bounded to his feet, poised an instant, then threw
himself into a succession of handsprings until he resembled a
whirling pink and gold wheel.
This was a new act in the circus world, and such of the other
performers as were under the big top at the moment paused to
No one was more surprised than Mr. Sparling himself.  He knew
what a difficult feat it was that the Circus Boy had not only
essayed, but succeeded in doing.  Phil kept it up at such length,
and with such stubborn persistence, that the owner of the show
feared lest the lad, in his dizziness might get a bad fall.
Doing a series of such rapid handsprings on the level ground is
calculated to make a performer's head swim.  But how much more
difficult such an effort is on the slippery back of a moving
horse may well be imagined.
Finally, red of face, panting, breathless, Phil Forrest alighted
on his feet, well back on the ring horse's rump.
"Be ready to catch me," he gasped.
The ringmaster understood.
Phil urged his horse to a run about the sawdust arena.
"Now, what's that fool boy going to do?" wondered Mr. Sparling.
All at once Phil Forrest threw himself up into the air, his body
doubling like a ball as he did so.
One--two--three times he whirled about in his marvelous
backward somersault.
"Let go your tuck!" commanded the ringmaster, meaning that Phil
was to release the grip of his hands which were holding his legs
doubled close against his body.
The lad quickly straightened up, spreading his arms to steady
himself in his descent.  Fortunately he was dropping feet first,
due to his instant obedience of the ringmaster's order.
Perhaps that alone saved the Circus Boy from breaking his neck,
for so dizzy was he that he was unable to tell whether he was
dropping feet or head first.
He alighted on his feet and the ringmaster caught him deftly.
"Stand steady a minute, till you get your bearings, Phil."
Phil needed that moment to steady himself, for the big top seemed
to be whirling about on a pivot.
Now he began dimly to hear the thunders of applause that greeted
his really wonderful performance.
"Can you stand alone now?"
"I think so," came the faint reply that was instantly drowned in
the great uproar.
But the lad wavered a little after the ringmaster had released
his grip.  Steadying himself quickly, Phil pulled on his slippers
and walked slowly from the ring, dizzy, but happy with the shouts
of his school fellows ringing in his ears.
He heard the voice of Mr. Sparling close by him, saying:
"Great, great, my boy!  Finest exhibition ever seen in a
sawdust ring!"
Phil tripped proudly past the grandstand seats, where the boys
were howling like a pack of wild Indians.
But just then something else occurred to attract their attention.
A donkey, long-eared, long-haired, dirty and unkempt trotted into
the ring and spun about like a top for a full minute.
On the ludicrous-looking beast's back sat a boy in the makeup of
a blackface clown.  In his mouth was a harmonica, that he played
lustily, as he sat facing to the rear with his back toward the
donkey's head.
At that moment something else was observable.  Instead of
traveling head first, as any self-respecting donkey is supposed
to do, this particular donkey was walking backwards.  Yes, he was
galloping backwards.
The instant the audience noted that, their cheers changed to
howls of delight.  The clown was Teddy Tucker, and the donkey
was the surprise he had been storing up for this very occasion.
While the audience laughed and jeered, Mr. Sparling looked on in
surprise not unmixed with amazement.  Here was the very thing he
had been looking for, but had been unable thus far to find.
"It's a winner!" he cried, as Teddy Tucker and his strange mount
ambled by him in a gait such as never had been seen in a sawdust
arena before.
Right around the arena traveled boy and donkey.  When opposite
the grandstand seats, where the high school students were
sitting, Teddy nearly drove them wild by drawing out the class
colors which he had been hiding under his coat.
In a shrill, high-pitched voice he gave utterance to the high
school class yell, which was instantly taken up by the class and
eventually by the spectators themselves, until all seemed near
the verge of hysterics.
Phil, instead of proceeding directly to the dressing tent, had
waited by the bandstand to watch the new act of his companion,
and he, with others of the performers, was laughing heartily as
he leaned against the bandstand.  Teddy knew he made a funny
appearance, but just how ludicrous he could have little idea.
"Whose donkey is that?" demanded Mr. Sparling, hurrying up just
as Phil and the other circus folks were congratulating the lad.
"He's mine," rejoined Teddy.
"Where did you get him?"
"I bought him.  Think I stole him?  Been training him all winter.
"It's a great comedy act.  He's engaged.  Turn him over to the
superintendent of ring stock and tell him to make a place on the
train for the brute."
"I've already done so."
"Oh, you have, eh?"
"Anybody would think you owned this show, the way you give orders
around here."
"I'm willing, and so's the donkey," grinned Teddy.
"For what---to go on at every performance?"
"No; to own the show.  We're going on right along, anyway.
"Hopeless!" muttered Sparling, shaking his head.
TAKEN BY SURPRISE
"Hurry up, Teddy!"
"Billy Ford is waiting for us out in the paddock."
"Oh, is that so?  What does he want?"
"He's going to walk to the train with us, he says."
"That's good.  I wonder if any of the other fellows will
"No; I think not.  I asked him if he were alone, and he said
"We might give him a feed in the accommodation car,"
suggested Teddy.
"No; you and I are going to bed right quick after we get back to
the train.  I, for one, am tired after this strenuous day."
"It has been lively, hasn't it?"
"It has," answered Phil, laying special emphasis on the "has."
"Say, young man, where did you get that freak donkey?" demanded
Mr. Miaco, the head clown, approaching at that moment.
"Drew him in a prize package of chewing gum," called one of
the performers.
"Where did you get him, anyway?" called another.
"You seem to know all about it, so what's the use of my
telling you?" retorted Teddy.
The lads had finished their work for the day, and nothing now
remained to be done except to disrobe, take a quick scrub down
after their severe exercise, don their clothes and take their
time in getting to the train.
There was plenty of time for this, as their sleeper being on the
third and last section of the circus train, they would not leave
for nearly two hours yet, at the earliest.
The baths of the Circus Boys were more severe than pleasant, and
in taking them each one had to perform a service for the other.
The bath consisted of the performer's standing still while his
companion emptied several buckets of cold water over him,
following it with a liberal smearing of soap and then some more
pailfuls of water.
Once a week, over Sunday, the performers were allowed to sleep
at hotels, providing the circus did not have an all day run.
At such times they were able to enjoy the luxury of a hot bath,
but at other times it was cold water--sometimes colder and more
chilling than at others.  Yet, they thrived under it, growing
strong and healthy.
Having once more gotten into their street clothes, refreshed and
rested to a degree that would be scarcely believed after their
severe exercise, both lads repaired to the paddock, where they
found the president of the high school class waiting for them,
interestedly watching the scene of life and color always
observable in the circus paddock, a canvas walled enclosure where
performers and ring stock await the call to enter the ring.
"Here we are, Billy," greeted Phil.
"Oh, so quick?" Billy started guiltily.
"That's the way we always do things," answered Teddy.  "Have to
do things on the jump, we circus men do."
"So I see.  What are you going to do now?"
"Going to the car, of course.  We always go right to the sleeper
after the show.  Why?"
"Oh, nothing special.  I thought maybe you might like to go
downtown and visit with the boys for a while."
"I should like to do so very much, but I do not think it will
be best.  We make it a rule to go straight home, as we call our
car, and I've never broken over that rule yet, Billy."
"Very well, Phil; then I will walk along with you.  I guess you
know the way."
"That's more than I do every night," laughed Phil.  "It's a
case of getting lost 'most every night, especially in the big
towns, for the cars seldom are found at night where we left
them in the morning."
"I shouldn't like that," objected Billy.
"We don't.  But we can't help ourselves."
"Here, where you going?" demanded Teddy suddenly.
"Taking the path across the lot here.  It is much shorter,"
replied Billy.
"Oh, all right.  I had forgotten about the path."
"I should think you would--"
Phil got no further in his remark.  He was interrupted by
President Billy, crying loudly:
"Here we are!"
Instantly fifteen or twenty shadowy forms sprang up from the
grass and hurled themselves upon the Circus Boys.
Taken by surprise as they were, Phil and Teddy gave a good
account of themselves.  Shadow after shadow went down under a
good stiff punch, for it must be remembered that both boys were
able to make a handsome living because of the possession of well
trained muscles.
Yet no two men could have stood up for long under the onslaught,
and Phil and Teddy very soon went down with their assailants
piling on top of them.
Up to this point not a word had been spoken, nor did either of
the lads have time to speculate as to who their enemies might be.
"Here, you fellow, get off my neck!" howled Teddy.  "Let me get
up and I'll clean up the whole bunch of you two at a time, if
you'll give me half a chance."
No reply was made to this.
"Get the blankets!" commanded a deep voice.
A moment later the two lads were quickly wound in the folds of a
pair of large horse blankets.  They were then picked up, none too
gently and borne off to the other side of the field, kicking and
squirming in their efforts to escape.
Their captors, however, did not for an instant relax their hold,
and further struggle proved vain.
Reaching the other side of the field, the Circus Boys were dumped
into a wagon.  This they knew because they heard the driver give
the directions regarding letting down the tail board.
Placing their burdens on the wagon floor, the captors very coolly
sat down on the boys.  Then the wagon started.  Never in the old
days of the road show, when Phil and Teddy were riding and
sleeping in a springless canvas wagon, had they experienced a
rougher ride.  It seemed as if every stone in the county had been
placed in the path of the rickety old wagon in which they were
being spirited away.
About this time Phil Forrest began to wonder.  He could not
understand the meaning of the attack.  And what had become of
President Billy?  He knew Teddy was lying beside him, but Billy
must have made his escape.  If so Billy would give the alarm, and
the show people would quickly overtake the kidnappers.
No such interruption occurred, however, rather greatly to Phil's
surprise, so he lay still and waited for a favorable moment when
he might take a hand in the affair himself.
Teddy's voice could be heard under his blanket, in muffled, angry
protestations, his feet now and then beating a tattoo on the
wagon bottom.  Such an act brought down the weight of his captors
upon the offending feet each time.
Once Teddy managed to work the covering from his mouth for one
brief instant.
"Hey, Rube!" he howled lustily, this being the signal known
to circus men the world over, when one or more of them is
But there were no strong-armed circus men to come to
their rescue.  All the circus laborers were working off on
the lot striking the tents and loading the show on the wagons.
Teddy was given no further opportunity to protest.
After a journey of what seemed hours, and during which,
Phil Forrest had lost all sense of direction, the wagon
came to a halt.
He could hear the hum of conversation as his captors consulted in
low tones.  Then all at once he found himself jerked from the
wagon and plumped down on the ground.
Teddy went through a similar experience, excepting that his fall
was considerably more severe.  Teddy struck the ground with a
jolt that made him utter a loud "Wow!"
He was on his feet in a twinkling, only to find himself pounced
upon and borne heavily to earth again.
Fuming and threatening, Teddy was roughly picked up, Phil being
served likewise.
The boys felt themselves being borne up a short flight of steps
and down a long hall.  Then came more steps.  This time it was a
long flight of stairs, the kidnappers getting their burdens up
this with evident effort.
"I hope they don't drop me, now," thought Phil.  "I shall
surely roll all the way to the bottom, though it might enable
me to get away."
Finally an upper floor was reached.  The captors bore their
burdens in and placed them on the floor.  The Circus Boys
realized, at the same instant, that the vigilance of the
kidnappers had been relaxed for the second.
Throwing, the blankets off Phil and Teddy leaped to their feet
ready for flight.  As they did so they met with the surprise of
their lives.
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
Teddy had squared off, and was landing sledge-hammer blows on the
Phil, too, had squared himself prepared to give battle, but his
hands fell sharply to his sides.
"Wha--what--" he gasped.
"Come on!" bellowed Teddy.
They were in a large room, brilliantly lighted, and about them,
in a semi-circle, was a line of laughing faces.  From them the
eyes of the astonished Circus Boys wandered to a long table on
which were flowers and plenty of good things to eat.
"Why, it's our old recitation room in the high school, Teddy,"
breathed Phil.
"I don't care what it is.  I can lick the whole outfit!" shouted
Teddy Tucker advancing belligerently.
"It's the boys, Teddy, don't you understand?" laughed Phil.
"Well, of all the ways of inviting a fellow to dinner, this beats
anything I ever saw before."
"How does it feel to be kidnaped?" grinned President Billy,
extending his hand.
"So you are the young gentleman who put up this job on us,
are you?" demanded Phil.
"I guess I am one of them.  But I wasn't unlucky enough to get a
black eye, like Walter over there.  You gave that to him, Teddy.
My, what a punch you have!" laughed Billy.
"That isn't a circumstance to what's coming to you.  I'll wait
till I get back to school, next fall, and then I'll take it out
of you.  You'll have something coming to you all summer.  Did I
paint Walt's eye that way?"
"You did.  It's up to you to apologize to him now."
"Apologize?"
"Yes; that's what I said."
"I like that!  I have a good notion to apologize by painting the
other eye the same color," growled Teddy.
"But, what does all this mean?" urged Phil, looking about him,
still a bit dazed.
"It means that we fellows wanted to give you and Teddy a
little supper.  It isn't much, but there are sandwiches and
cookies and pie and lots of other stuff that you'll like."
"Cookies?" interrupted Teddy, his face relaxing into a
"We knew you wouldn't come, so we planned to kidnap you both
and bring you over here by main force.  After we eat supper
we'll have a little entertainment among ourselves.  Walter is
going to sing--"
"What's that?  Walt going to sing?" demanded Teddy, halting on
his way to inspect the table.
"Then I'm going, right now!" answered the lad, turning sharply
and heading for the door.
"Why, why--"
"I've heard him sing before.  Good night!"
"Come back here," laughed Phil, grabbing his companion
by the shoulder.  "We can stand even Walter's singing if
he can.  But really, fellows, we can't stay more than
fifteen or twenty minutes."
"Because we must get to the train.  Were we to be left we might
come in for a fine.  Mr. Sparling is very strict.  He expects
everybody to live up to the rules.  I'm sorry, but--"
"It's all fixed, Phil.  No need to worry," President Billy
informed him.
"Fixed?  What do you mean?"
"With Mr. Sparling."
"You--you told him?"
"See here, Billy Ford," interrupted Teddy.
"What is it, Teddy?"
"Did you say Boss Sparling was in on this little kidnaping game--
did he know you were going to raise roughhouse with--with us?"
"I--I guess he did," admitted President Billy.
"I'll settle with him tomorrow," nodded Teddy, swelling out
"Did you tell him you were going to have a supper up here?"
"He knows all about it.  You need not worry about the train going
away without you.  Mr. Sparling said you had a short run tonight,
and that the last section would not pull out until three o'clock
in the morning.  That's honest Injun, Phil."
"Well, if that is the case, then we'll stay."
"Hurrah for the Circus Boys!" shouted the class, making a rush
for seats at the table.
"Ready for the coffee," announced the President.
Who should come in at that moment, with a steaming coffeepot, but
the Widow Cahill.
"Are you in this, too?" Teddy demanded.
"I am afraid I am," laughed Mrs. Cahill.  "The boys needed some
grown-ups to help them out."
"You're no friend of mine, then.  I'll--"
"But you are going to have some of those molasses cookies that I
told you I baked for you--"
"Cookies?  Where?" exclaimed Teddy, forgetting his
anger instantly.
"Help yourself.  There they are."
"It isn't much of a spread," apologized the president.  "We have
a little of everything and not much of anything--"
"And a good deal of nothing," added Teddy humorously.
"Everybody eat!" ordered Mrs. Cahill.
They did.  Thirty boys with boys' appetites made the home-cooked
spread disappear with marvelous quickness.  Each had brought
something from home, and Mrs. Cahill, whom they had taken into
their confidence two days before the Sparling Shows reached
town, had furnished the rest.  Everything was cold except the
coffee, but the feasters gave no thought to that.  It was food,
and good wholesome food at that, and the lads were doing full
justice to it.
"Say, Phil, that was a wonderful act of yours," nodded
President Billy, while the admiring gaze of the class was
fixed on Phil Forrest.
"I wish I might learn to do that," said Walter.
"You?  You couldn't ride a wooden rocking horse without falling
off and getting a black eye," jeered Teddy, at which there was a
shout of laughter.
"Can you?" cut in Phil.
"I can ride anything from a giraffe to a kangaroo--that is, until
I fall off," Teddy added in a lower voice.  "I rode a greased pig
at a country fair once.  Anybody who can do that, can sit on a
giraffe's neck without slipping off."
"Where was that?" questioned a voice.  "I never heard of your
riding a greased pig around these parts."
"I guess that must have been before you were born," retorted
Teddy witheringly.
"Say, Phil," persisted Walter, this time in a confidential tone.
"Do you suppose you could get me a job in the circus?"
"I don't know about that, Walt.  What do you think you could do?"
"Well, I can do a cartwheel and--"
"Oh, fudge!" interrupted Teddy.
"That's more than Tucker could do when he joined the show.
Do you know what he did, first of all?" said Phil.
"No; what did he do?" chorused the boys.
"He poured coffee in the cook tent for the thirsty roustabouts.
That's the way he began his circus career."
"I didn't do it more than a day or two," Tucker explained,
rather lamely.
"But you did it!" jeered Walter.
"Then his next achievement was riding the educated mule.  I guess
you boys never saw him do that."
"Not until tonight."
"This is different.  The other was a bucking mule, and Teddy made
a hit from the first time he entered the ring on Jumbo.  He hit
pretty much everything in the show, including the owner himself."
Phil leaned back and laughed heartily at the memory of his
companion's exhibition at this, his first appearance in a circus
ring as a performer.
"No, Walt, I wouldn't advise you to join.  Some people are
cut out for the circus life.  They never would succeed at
anything else.  Teddy and myself for instance.  Besides, your
people never would consent to it.  You will be a lawyer, or
something great, some of these days, while we shall be cutting
up capers in the circus ring at so much per caper.  It's a
wonderful life but you keep out of it," was Phil Forrest's
somewhat illogical advice.
"How far are you going this year?" asked one of the boys.
"I can't say.  I understand we are going south--to Dixie Land for
the last half of the season.  I think we are headed for Canada,
just now, swinging around the circuit as it were.  Isn't it about
time we were getting back to the train, Teddy?"
"No, I guess not.  I haven't eaten up all the cookies yet.
Please pass the cookies, you fellow up there at the head of
"We shall have our little entertainment before you fellows go to
your sleeper.  We reckon Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker ought to
do some stunts for us.  Isn't that so?" asked President Billy.
"Yes," shouted the boys.
"What, after a meal like that?  I couldn't think of it,"
laughed Phil.  "Never perform on a full stomach unless you want
to take chances.  It might do you up for good."
"Well, it won't hurt Teddy to be funny.  Do something
funny, Teddy."
Teddy looked up soulfully as he munched a cookie.
"Costs money to see me act funny," he said.
"Go on; go on!" urged the boys.  "You never showed us any of your
tricks except what you did in the ring this evening."
"Do you know, it's a funny thing, but I never can be funny
unless there is a crop of new-mown sawdust under my feet,"
remarked Teddy.
"Nothing very funny about that!" growled a voice at the further
end of the table.
Teddy fixed him with a reproving eye.
"Very well, but you'll be sorry.  I will now present to you the
giddiest, gladdest, gayest, grandest, gyrating, glamorous and
glittering galaxy--as the press agent says--that ever happened."
Teddy, who sat at the extreme end of the table, placed both hands
carelessly on the table, then drew his body up by slow degrees,
until a moment later as his body seemed to unfold, he was doing
a hand stand right on the end of the supper table.
The boys shouted with delight and Teddy kicked his feet in
"Go on!  Don't stop," urged the lads.
"You'll be wishing I had stopped before I began," retorted the
lad, starting to walk on his hands right down the center of
There were dishes in the way, but this did not disturb Tucker in
the least.  He merely pushed them aside, some rolling off on the
floor and breaking, others falling into the laps of the boys.
"Here, here, what are you doing?" called Phil.
"This is what I call the topsy-turvy walk."
Teddy paused when halfway down the table, to let his mouth down
to the table, where he had espied another cookie.  When he pulled
himself up, the cookie was between his lips, and the boys roared
at the ludicrous sight.
Then, the lad who was walking on his hands, continued right on.
He was nearing the foot of the table when something occurred that
changed the current of their thoughts, sending the heart of every
boy pounding in his throat.
It seemed as if the roof had been suddenly hurled down upon
their heads.
Teddy instantly fell off the table, tumbling into the laps of two
of the boys, the three going down to the floor in a heap, finally
rolling under the table.  The other boys sprang to their feet in
sudden alarm.
"It's a band," cried Phil.  "Don't be afraid."
Then the circus band, that had been waiting in the hall just
outside the dining place, marched in with horns blaring, drums
beating, and took up their position at the far end of the room.
"It's the circus band," cried the lads, now recovering from
their fright.  "How did they get here?"
By this time Teddy, his face red and resentful, was poking his
head from beneath the table.
"Hey, Rube!" he shouted, then ducked back again.
Phil understood instantly that this was one of
Mr. Sparling's surprises.  But there were still other surprises
to come.  No sooner had the band taken up its position than there
was again a commotion out in the hall.  The lads opened their
eyes wide when a troop of painted clowns came trotting in,
followed by half a dozen acrobats, all in ring costume.  A mat
was quickly spread by some attendants that Mr. Sparling had sent.
Then began the merriest hodge-podge of acrobatic nonsense that
the high school boys ever had seen.  The clowns, entering into
the spirit of the moment, grew wonderfully funny.  They sang
songs and told stories, while the acrobats hurled themselves into
a mad whirl of somersaults, cartwheels and Wild Dervish throws.
Thus far the boys were too amazed to speak.
All at once some of the performers began to form a pyramid, one
standing on the other's shoulders.
"Here, I'm going to be the top-mounter!" cried Teddy, taking
a running start and beginning to clamber up the human column.
He was assisted up and up until he was standing at the top,
his head almost touching the high ceiling in the room.
"Speech!" howled the delighted high school boys.
"Fellow citizens," began Teddy.
Just then the human pyramid toppled over and Teddy had to leap to
save himself, striking the mat, doing a rolling tumble and coming
up on his feet.
When all the fun making in the hall was over one surprise proved
yet to be in the reserve.  The high school boys of Edmeston
turned out with lighted torches.  Forming in column of fours they
escorted Phil and Teddy to their car on the circus train.  It was
not many minutes later that the boys, tired out but happy,
tumbled into their berths, where they were asleep immediately,
carrying on, even in their dreams, the joyous scenes through
which they had just passed.
SHIVERS AND HIS SHADOW
Half a hundred motley fools came trooping into the sawdust arena,
their voices raised in song and shout.
Mud clown, character clown, harlequin, fat boy, jester, funny
rustic, vied with each other in mirth-provoking antics so aptly
described by the circus press agent as a "merry-hodgepodge of
fun-provoking, acrobatic idiosyncrasies of an amazing character."
And so they were.
Children screamed with delight, while their elders smiled a
dignified approval of the grotesque, painted throng that trooped
gayly down the uneven course.
The music of the circus band stopped short.  Then came a fanfare
of trumpets, and far down the line from behind the crimson
curtains near to the bandstand, a dignified figure all in white,
emerged and tripped along the grassy way, halting now and then
to gaze fixedly at some imaginary object just above the heads of
those on the upper row of seats, the very drollery of which gaze
was irresistible.
Shivers, Prince of Clowns, the greatest fun maker and character
clown of all that mad, painted throng, had made his entry.
Shivers had joined out with the Sparling show for the first time
that season.  He was known as the leading clown in the business.
>From the first, Shivers had taken a liking to Teddy Tucker, and
shortly after leaving Edmeston he had conceived the idea of
making a full-fledged clown of Teddy.  The permission of the
manager had been obtained and this was Teddy's first appearance
as assistant to Shivers.  Teddy was considerably smaller,
of course, and made up as the exact counterpart of Shivers
trailing along after him like a shadow, the lad made a most
amusing appearance.  Every move that the clown made, Teddy
mimicked as the two minced along down the concourse.
Shivers was a shining model of the clown both in method
and makeup.  His stiffly starched bulging trousers disappeared
under the stiff ruffles of a three-quarter waist.  A broad
turnover collar of the nurse style was set off with a large bow
of bright red ribbon, and a baker's cap, perched jauntily on one
side of the head, completed his merry makeup.  This too describes
Teddy Tucker's outfit.
"Now, be funny!" directed Shivers.
"I can't help but be if I act like you," retorted Teddy, whereat
the clown grinned.
Pausing before the dollar seats the clown pulled out the
ruffles of his snow-white waist, poising with crossed legs on
one toe.  Teddy did the same, and a great roar was the reward
of their drollery.
"La, la!  La, la, la!" hummed the clown, stumbling over a rope
to the keen delight of those in the reserved seats--the same
rope, by the way, that he had been falling over twice each day
for the past month.  Then he blew a kiss to a fragile slip of a
girl who was perched on a trapeze bar far up toward the dome of
the great tent.
Zoraya, for that was her name, smiled down, gracefully swung off
into space, soaring lightly into the strong, sure arms of her
working mate.
Just the suspicion of an approving smile lighted up the face
of the clown for the moment, for he dearly loved this little
motherless daughter of his, who had been his care since she
was a child.
Shivers had taught her all she knew, and Zoraya was the
acknowledged queen of the lofty tumblers.
But the clown half unconsciously caught his breath as the lithe
form of Zoraya shot over the trapeze bar, described a graceful
"two-and-a-half" in the air, and, shooting downward, hit the net
with a resounding smack that caused the spectators to catch their
breath sharply.
The clown shook a warning head at her, and Teddy so far forgot
himself as to stub his toe and measure his length upon
"Don't do it, Bright Eyes!" cautioned Shivers, shaking his head
warningly at the girl, as the child bounced up from the impact,
kicking her little feet together and turning a somersault on the
swaying net.  "It isn't in your contract.  Folks sometimes break
their necks trying kinkers that's not in the writings."
Her answer was a merry, mocking laugh, and Zoraya ran lightly
up a rope ladder to the platform where she balanced easily for
another flight.
"My, I wish I could do stunts like that!" breathed Teddy.
"Just like a bird.  La, la, la!  La, la, la!" sang the painted
clown, turning a handspring and pivoting on his head for a grand,
spectacular finish.
His refined comedy, so pleasing to the occupants of the reserved
seats, had now been changed to loud, uproarious buffoonery as he
bowed before the blue, fifty cent seats where his auditors were
massed on boards reaching from the top of the side wall clear
down to the edge of the arena.
He took liberties with their hats, passed familiar criticisms on
their families and told them all about the other performers in
the ring, arousing the noisy appreciation of the spectators.
Teddy was put to his wits end to keep up with this rapid-fire
clowning, and the perspiration was already streaking the powder
on his face.
All at once, above the din and the applause, the ears of
the clown caught a sound different from the others--a scream
of alarm.  Shivers had heard such a cry many times before during
his twenty years in the sawdust ring, and, as he expressed it,
the sound always gave him "crinkles up and down his spine."
There was no need to start and look about for the cause.
He understood that there had been an accident.  But the clown
looked straight ahead and went on with his work.  He knew, by
the strains of the music, exactly what Zoraya should be doing at
the moment when the cry came--that her supple body was flashing
through the air in a "passing leap," one of the feats that
always drew such great applause, even if it were more
spectacular than dangerous.
"No, it can't be Zoraya!" he muttered.  But the clown cast one
nervous, hesitating glance up there where her troupe was working
in the air.  The cold sweat stood out upon him.  Zoraya was not
with them.  His eyes sought the net.  It was empty.  He saw a
figure clad in pink, white and gold shooting right through
Then, too, he saw something else.  A slender, pink-clad figure
was darting under the net with outstretched arms.
"It's Phil.  He's going to catch her," shouted Teddy jubilantly.
But Phil went down under the impact of the heavy blow as Zoraya
struck him.  A throng of ring attendants gathered about them, and
in a moment the two forms were picked up and borne quickly from
Once, years before, Shivers had been through an earthquake in
South America, when things about him were topsy-turvy, when the
circus tent came tumbling down about him, and ring curbs went up
into the air in most bewildering fashion.
Now, that same sensation was upon him again, and quarter poles
seemed to dance before his eyes like giddy marionettes, while
the long rows of blue seats appeared to be tilted up at a
dangerous angle.  Then slowly the clown's bewilderment merged
into keen understanding, but his painted face reflected none of
the anguish that was gripping at his heart strings.
Teddy brushed a hand across his own eyes.
"I--I guess they're both killed," he said falteringly.
Just then the voice of the head clown broke out in the old
Netherlands harvest song:
    "Yanker didel doodle down,
       Didel, dudel lanter,
     Yankee viver, voover vown,
       Botermilk und tanther."
"Poor Zoraya!" muttered the clown under cover of the applause
that greeted his vocal effort.  And his associates looked down
from their perches high in the air, gazing in wonder upon the
clown who was bowing so low that, each time he did so, he was
obliged to turn a somersault to gain his equilibrium.
"Dangerously hurt--went through the net head first.  Hurry!"
panted a belated clown, running by to his station.
"Boy hurt, too."
"Told you so!" grumbled Teddy.
But Shivers did not flinch, and, as he neared the reserved seats
on the grandstand, his voice again rang out, this time in a
variation of the ancient harvest song:
    "Yankee doodle, keep it up,
       Yankee doodle, dandy;
     Mind the music and the step,
       And with your feet be handy."
Never had the show people seen Shivers so uproariously funny.
Under the spell of his merriment, the audience quickly forgot the
tragic scene that they had just witnessed.
Teddy, however, noticed little dark trenches that had ploughed
their courses down through the makeup of the clown's cheeks from
his eyes.  Teddy knew that tears had caused those furrows.
As Shivers looked down the long, grassy stretch ahead of him,
that he still must cover before his act would be finished, the
goal seemed far away.  He flashed one longing glance toward the
crimson curtains that shut off the view of the paddock and the
dressing tents, vaguely wondering what lay beyond for him and for
little Zoraya.  Then Shivers set his jaws hard, plunging into a
mad whirl of handsprings and somersaults, each of which sent him
nearer to the end of that seemingly endless way.
"Here, here, what are you trying to do?" gasped Tucker, unable to
keep up with the clown's rapid progress by doing the same things.
Teddy solved the problem by running.  He could keep up in no
At last Shivers reached the end.  With a mighty leap he sprang
for the paddock and the dressing tent.  And how he did run!
Such sprinting never had been seen in the big show, even between
man and horse in the act following the Roman chariot races.
Once a rope caught Shivers' toes.  He fell forward, but cleverly
landed on his shoulders and the back of his neck, bouncing up
like a rubber man and plunging on.
Shivers had darted through the crimson curtain by the time
Teddy Tucker had succeeded in picking himself up from having
fallen over the same rope.
Stretched out on a piece of canvas in the dressing tent, her head
slightly elevated on a saddle pad, they found Zoraya, her pallor
showing even through the roughly laid on makeup.
Phil was sitting on a trunk holding his head in his hands, for he
had received quite a severe shock.
"If she regains consciousness soon she may live," announced
the surgeon.  "If not--"
"No, no!" protested the white-faced clown, dropping on his knees
by the side of the child, folding Zoraya tenderly in his arms.
"She must not die!  She cannot die!"
His jaunty baker's cap tilted off and fell upon her tinseled
breast, while groups of curious, sorrowful painted faces pressed
about them in silent sympathy.
Teddy crushed his white cap between his hands twisting
it nervously.
"She isn't hurt.  Can't you see?  Look, she is smiling now,"
pleaded the clown.
The surgeon shook his head sadly, and Shivers buried his head on
Zoraya's shoulder, pressing his painted cheek close to hers,
while the dull roar of the circus, off under the big top, drifted
to them faintly, like the sighing of a distant cataract.
An impressive silence hovered over the scene, which was broken,
at last, by the quiet voice of the circus surgeon.
"The child is coming back, Shivers.  She has fought it out, but
she will perform no more, I am afraid, for bones broken as are
hers never will be quite the same again."
"She don't have to perform any more, sir," snapped the clown.
"I'll do that for her.  You put that down in your fool's cap
and smoke it.  Yes, sir, I'll--"
"Daddy!" murmured the lips that were pressed close to
Shivers' ear.
It was scarcely a whisper, more a breath that Shivers caught, but
faint as it was, it sent the blood pounding to his temples until
they showed red, like blotches of rouge under powder.
"D-a-d-d-y--y-o-u-r--Zory got an awful--b-u-m-p."
Three harlequins who had been poising each on one knee, chins in
hands, gazing down into the face of the little performer,
suddenly threw backward somersaults in their joy.
"Yes, Phil's quickness saved you," spoke up the surgeon.  "Had it
not been for him you would be dead now."
Teddy Tucker, the tears streaming down his cheeks, was hopping
about on one foot, vigorously kicking a shin with the other foot,
trying to punish himself for his tears.
"I'm a fool!  I'm a fool!  But--but--I can't help it," he sobbed,
wheeling suddenly and dashing into his own dressing tent.
"Call for Shivers!" bellowed the voice of the callboy, thrusting
his head inside the entrance flap.  "All the Joeys out for the
Shivers gently laid the broken form of Zoraya back, pressed a
hurried kiss on her painted lips and bounded away to take his
cue, the circus band out there by the crimson curtains swinging
brazenly into the enlivening strains of "There'll Be a Hot Time
in the Old Town Tonight!"
CHAPTER VIII
A RIVAL IN THE FIELD
Zoraya was left behind.  She was sent to a hospital where she was
destined to remain many weeks, before she would be able to be
moved to her little home in Indiana.  She never performed again.
In the meantime the Great Sparling Combined Shows had moved
majestically along.  They had left the United States and were
touring Canada, playing in many of the quaint little French
villages and larger towns, where the Circus Boys found much to
interest and amuse them.
Teddy and Shivers had made a great hit in their "brother" clown
act, which was daily added to and improved upon as the show
worked its way along the Canadian border.
One day Phil, who had been downtown after the parade, where he
went to read the papers when he got a chance, came back and
sought out Mr. Sparling in the latter's private tent.
"Well, Phil," greeted the owner cordially, "what's on your mind?"
"Perhaps a good deal, but possibly nothing of any consequence.
You will have to decide that."
"What is it?" questioned Mr. Sparling sharply.
"Do we show in Corinto?"
"I thought I had heard you mention that we were to do so."
"Why do you ask that question?"
"I'll answer it by asking another," smiled the Circus Boy.
"When do we make that stand?"
The showman consulted his route book.
"A week from next Tuesday," he said.  "Anything wrong
about that?"
"Nothing except that there is another show billed to play there
the day before."
Mr. Sparling bent a keen gaze on Phil's face, to make sure the
lad was not joking.
"Yes, the Sully Hippodrome Circus is billed there for Monday."
"Where did you find that out?"
"I read it in a St. Catharines' paper down at the hotel
this morning.  I thought you would be interested in knowing
"Interested?  Why, boy, it will kill our business.  So Sully
is cutting in on us, is he?  I thought he was playing the
eastern circuit.  He threatened to get even with me."
"Yes.  Sully was once a partner in this show, but he proved
himself so dishonest that I had to take legal measures to get
him out.  He got money from some source last season, and put
a show of his own on the road.  He has a twenty-five car
show, I understand.  Not such a small outfit at that.  But I
hear it is a graft show."
"What's a graft show?  I must confess that I never heard of
that before."
"A graft show, my boy, is a show that gets money in various ways.
They frequently carry a gang of thieves and confidence men with
them, who work among the spectators on the grounds before the
show, robbing them and getting a commission on their earnings."
"Is it possible that there are such dishonest people in the
show business?" marveled the lad.
"Not only possible, but an actual fact.  I am happy to say,
however, that there are few shows that will tolerate anything
of that sort."
"I'm glad I did not have the misfortune to get with one of them,"
smiled Phil.  "Are any of the big shows graft shows?"
"None of them.  But about this heading us off?"
"Yes; what will you do about it?"
"We'll be there on Monday, too," decided the showman after a
moment's reflection.
"On Monday?"
"Then--then you intend to skip a date somewhere?"
"We shall have to."
Mr. Sparling was a man of resource and quick action.  He made up
his mind in a minute as to what course to follow.
"I'm going to detach you from the show for a few days, if you
don't mind, Phil," decided Mr. Sparling.
"I am glad to serve you in any way that you think I can,"
answered the lad with a flash of surprise in his glance.
"I know that.  What I want you to do is to join that show
right away."
"Join them?"
"I do not mean that exactly.  I want you to go to the town where
they are playing tomorrow, I will get the name of the town before
the day is over.  Follow the show right along from town to town
until next Monday, paying your way when you go in and keeping
your eyes open for their game.  You, with your shrewdness, ought
to have no difficulty in getting sufficient evidence to help me
carry out my plans."
"What sort of evidence do you wish me to get?"
"Make a mental note of everything you see that is not regular,
and if they have a route card get a copy of that.  It's perfectly
regular, young man," hastened the showman, noting Phil's look
of disapproval.  "You are not doing anything improper.  I do not
ask you to pry into their private affairs.  We have a right,
however, to find out if we can, what their plans are with
relation to ourselves.  If they are playing Corinto the day
before we do, just by mere chance, then I shall make no further
objections, but if they are planning to move along ahead of us
and kill our business--well, that's a different matter."
"I see," nodded Phil.  "Who will take my place in the ring
"We will get along without it, that's all.  It doesn't matter so
much in these small towns.  I don't care if you do not join out
until we get to Niagara Falls.  We'll be playing in the real
country then."
"And working south?"
"Yes.  As soon as the weather gets cooler we will head for the
south and stay there until the close of the season.  They are
going to have a big cotton crop in the south this fall, and there
will be lots of money lying around loose to be picked up by a
show like ours."
"When do you want me to start?" asked Phil.
"Just as soon as I can get an answer to a telegram that I'm
going to send now.  You will be off sometime this afternoon.
But perhaps you can go on in your acts--no, I guess you had
better not.  You'll be missed at night if you do."
"Yes; that's so."
"I shall have some further directions for you.  So long, for
the present."
Phil turned away thoughtfully.  Shortly after the afternoon
performance Mr. Sparling sent for Phil again, the lad having
in the meantime packed a few necessary articles in his bag
preparatory to the journey that lay before him.
"The other show will be at St. Catharines tomorrow.
Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir.  What time can I get away?"
"Five o'clock.  You will be there in the morning in time to
see them set the tents.  Let me warn you that Sully is ugly
and unscrupulous.  If he were to know what you are there for
it might get you into a mix-up, so be careful."
"I'll be careful.  Have you any further instructions?"
"I want to give you some money.  You can't travel without money."
"I have plenty," answered Phil.  "I will keep my expense account
and turn it in to you when I get back.  Where do you wish me to
"Corinto, unless you think best to come back in the meantime.
That is, if you get sufficient information.  You know what I want
without my going into details, don't you?"
"I think so."
"Now, look out for yourself."
"I'll try to."
"You have not mentioned to anyone what you are going to do,
"Certainly not.  Not even to Teddy.  Perhaps if you will, you
might make the explanation to him," suggested Phil.
"Yes; I'll do that as soon as you have gotten away.  He'll be
raising the roof off the big top when he misses you."
Phil extended his hand to his employer, then turned and hurried
from the tent.  First, the boy proceeded to the sleeping car in
which he berthed, for his bag.  Securing this he had just time to
reach the station before the five o'clock train rumbled in.
The lad boarded a sleeping car and settled himself for the
long ride before him, passing the time by reading the current
magazines with which he provided himself when the train agent
came through.  Late in the evening the lad turned in.  Riding in
a sleeping car was no novelty to him, and he dropped asleep
almost instantly, not to awaken again until the porter shook him
gently by the shoulder.
"What is it?" questioned Phil, starting up.
"St. Catharines."
The lad pulled the curtains of his berth aside.  Day was just
breaking as he peered out.
"There they are," he muttered, catching sight of a switch
full of gaudily painted cars bearing the name of the Sully
Hippodrome Circus.  "They have just got in," he decided from
certain familiar signs of which he took quick mental note.
"Looks like a cheap outfit at that.  But you never can tell."
Phil Forrest dressed himself quickly and grasping his bag hurried
from the car, anxious to be at his task, which, to tell the
truth, he approached with keen zest.  He was beginning to enter
into the spirit of the work to which he had been assigned, and
which was to provide him with much more excitement than he at
that moment dreamed.
PHIL MAKES A DISCOVERY
"I guess I'll leave my bag in the station and go over to the
lot," decided the lad.
"The stake and chain gang will just about be on the job by
It is a well known fact in the circus world that there is no
better place to get information than from the stake and chain
gang, the men who hurry to the lot the moment their train gets
in and survey it, driving stakes to show where the tents are to
be pitched, and it is a familiar answer, when one is unable to
answer a question to say: "Ask the stake and chain gang."
That was exactly what Phil Forrest had in mind to do.
He followed a show wagon to the circus lot, where he found the
men already at work measuring off the ground with their
surveyor's chains, in the faint morning light.
"Morning," smiled Phil, sauntering over to where he observed the
foreman watching the work of his men.
"Morning," growled the showman.  Phil knew he would growl because
the fellow had not yet had his breakfast.
"Seems to me the circuses are coming this way pretty fast?"
suggested the lad.
"What d'ye mean?"
"I hear that there are to be two over in Corinto within two
days--yours and--and.  What's the name of the other one?"
"Sparling's," grunted the foreman.
Phil grinned appreciatively.  He had drawn his man out on the
first round.
"That's it.  That's the name.  I shouldn't think he'd want to
show in the same place the day after you had been there?"
" 'Cause the folks will all spend their money going to
The foreman threw back his head and laughed.
"That's exactly what they will do, kid.  That's what we want
them to do.  We'll make that Sparling outfit get off the earth
before we get through with them.  The boss has his axe out for
that outfit."
"Indeed?" cooed Phil.
"Yes.  He's going, between you and me, to keep a day ahead of
them all the way over this circuit."
"Smart, very smart," laughed Phil, slapping his thigh as if he
appreciated the joke fully.  "Have an orange.  I always carry
some about with me when I'm going to visit a circus."
"Thanks, that will taste good at this time of the morning.
It will keep me going until the cook tent is ready.  The cook
tent is where we get our meals, you understand.  'Course you
don't know about those things."
"No indeed!"
"Outsiders never do," replied the man.
"I was wondering something a moment ago, when you told me about
getting ahead of the other fellow."
"Wondering?"
"Wondering how you know where the other fellow is going?"
"That's a dark secret, kid," answered the stake and chain
foreman, with a very knowing wink.
"But if you know where he is going he must know where you are
billed for at the same time," urged Phil.
"But why not?"
"In the first place we bill ourselves only a few days ahead.
And, in the second, we have a way of finding out where Sparling
is going for the next month or so ahead.  Sometimes further
"Well, well, that's interesting--" The foreman hurried off to
give some directions to his men, slowly returning a few
minutes later.
"I should like to know how you do it?"
"Say kid, there's tricks in the show business just the same as in
any other.  Mebby there's somebody with the Sparling outfit who
keeps us posted.  Mind you, I ain't saying there is; but that
there might be."
"Oh, I see," muttered Phil, suddenly enlightened.  "Then someone
in the other show is giving away his employer's secrets.
Fine for you, but pretty rough on the other fellow."
"Let the other fellow take care of himself, the same way we do,"
growled the foreman, following it with a threatening command to
one of his men.
"That hardly seems fair," objected Phil.
"All is fair in war and the circus business.  You seem a good
deal interested in this competition business?" snapped the man
with sudden suspicion in voice and face.
"I am.  But where is this--this Sparling show going to--do you
know what towns they are going to play for the next month?
Can you tell that, too?"
"I can come pretty close to it," grinned the showman, whereupon
he named the towns on Phil's route list without so much as
missing one of them.  But the stake and chain foreman did not
stop here; he went on and gave a further list that Phil only knew
of as having heard mentioned by Mr. Sparling in his various
conversations with the circus lad.
Phil was amazed.
"Then they must be going west.  I see," nodded the boy.
"No, you don't see.  You only think you do."
"No.  If you was a showman and knew your business you'd know that
the Sparling outfit was going to make a sudden turn after a
little, and head for Dixie Land."
"Down south," exclaimed Phil.
"Sure.  Why not?  You see you lubbers don't know any more about
the show business than--"
"And you are going to follow them?"
"Follow them?  No. We're going to lead them.  They'll follow us."
"You're like a wildcat train then?"
"Something of the sort."
"Where's the boss?"
"There he comes now.  I'll have to hustle the men, or he'll
scorch the grass off the lot with his roars."
The foreman hastened to stir up his surveyors and Phil moved
off that he might get a better look at Mr. Sully, the owner of
the show.  Phil found him to be a florid-faced, square jawed man
whose expression was as repulsive as it was brutal.  Sully wore a
red vest and red necktie with a large diamond in it.  He gave the
Circus Boy a quick sharp look as he passed. "I'll bet he will
know me the next time he sees me," muttered Phil.  "But whether
he does or not I have made some discoveries that Mr. Sparling
will be glad to know about, though they will not make him
particularly happy, I'm thinking."
Phil was hungry, and he was anxious to get back to the village to
write a letter, but decided that he would wait until the tents
were up.  Then again, he wanted to see the wagons brought on so
he could count them and get a fair inventory of the show and what
it possessed.  He soon discovered that the Sully Hippodrome
Circus was no one-horse affair, though considerably smaller than
the one with which he was connected.
Not until the people were getting ready for the parade did Phil
leave the lot.  Then he hastened downtown and got his dinner and
breakfast all in one, after which he sat down to write a full
account of what he had learned to Mr. Sparling.
"There, if anything happens to me he is pretty well informed
so far.  It's enough to enable him to lay those plans he has
in mind, whatever they may be.  I can see him hammering his
desk and getting red in the face when he reads this letter."
Phil was cautious enough not to mention the name of the Sully
show in his letter, and tried to couch it in such terms, that
while Mr. Sparling would understand perfectly, another might not.
Phil took the letter to the post office, then went out on the
sidewalk where he stood leaning against a lamp post to watch the
parade, which he did with critical eyes.
"A pretty good-sized show," he mused.  "But all their trappings
are second hand.  They have bought them up from some show that
has discarded them.  That's one thing the Sparling outfit
never does.  All their stuff is new nearly every season.
Sully may have some of our old trappings, for all I know."
The parade was a long one; there were a good many cages, besides
a fair-sized herd of elephants.
"Hm-m-m!  Three tuskers among the bulls," muttered Phil.
"Pretty well up to our herd, but I wouldn't trade Emperor
for any two of them, at that."
After the parade had passed, Phil once more strolled over to
the circus lot and hung about until time for the afternoon
performance to begin, when he bought a ticket and entered,
occupying a reserved seat where he could see all that was
The lad smiled at the thought of how his position had changed.
He was so used to being over there in the ring that it did not
seem quite right for him to be occupying a chair in the audience.
He could scarcely resist the impulse to hurry back to the
dressing tent and prepare for the ring.
The grand entry came on; then his attention was centered on the
performance, which he watched with the keen eyes of an expert,
noting the work of every performer, completely forgetting the
cheering audience in his absorption.
It was really a fair performance.  He was forced to admit this,
especially of the aerial acts.  But the bareback riding he did
not think compared favorably with his own, especially so far as
the men riders were concerned.  One woman rider was very
good, indeed.
Phil drew a long breath when the performance had come to
an end.  A circus performance, to him, was a matter of the
keenest interest.  The fact that he himself was a circus
performer did not lessen that interest one whit, but rather
intensified it.  Yet the glamour of his youthful days had passed.
It was now a professional interest, rather than the wondering
interest of a boy who never had seen the inside of the
dressing tent.
Phil did not hang about the grounds.  He went downtown, but was
once more on hand for the evening performance, where he noted
that the show was cut short fully half an hour, and this without
apparent good reason.
He had made the acquaintance of a "candy butcher" during the hour
before the show, and from him had learned some further details
that were of interest to him and his investigation.
The Circus Boy, after watching the striking of the tents,
returned to the railroad station and took a late train for the
town where the circus was to show next day.  It was not a long
run, so he took a day coach.  In it he saw several familiar
faces--faces that he had noticed about the circus lot that
afternoon, and from their appearance he was forced to conclude
that these men belonged to the shows.
"Those fellows are crooks, as sure as I am alive," decided the
lad, after listening to the conversation of the couple just ahead
of him.  "That's what Mr. Sparling told me.  I could hardly
believe it.  I'll spend part of the time outside tomorrow and
make sure.  I shall know those fellows when I see them, if they
are on the grounds."
It had not occurred to Phil Forrest that he might be recognized
also, though he knew full well that circus people had keen eyes,
especially in an outfit such as this.
The next morning he hunted up his friend the candy butcher,
inviting that worthy to take breakfast with him which the lad,
a boy about his own age, was glad to do.  From the "butcher"
Phil learned a whole lot of things that added to his store of
knowledge, among them being the fact that Sully's outfit was
even worse than it had been painted.
Mingling with the crowds about the main entrance, before the
doors were opened that afternoon, Phil once more saw the same men
he had observed on the train the previous evening.  From their
actions he was more than ever satisfied that he had not been
mistaken in his estimate of them.
"I shouldn't be surprised if they were looking for some
pockets to pick," mused the lad, "but I do not see them
doing anything yet."
As a matter of fact, the men were plying their trade, but
his eyes had not been quick enough to catch them at it.
Phil, however, was more successful just before the
evening show.
Standing among the people massed out in front he saw a man's
hand steal slowly toward the handbag of a well-dressed woman.
Phil traced the hand back until he made out the owner, who was
one of the same men that had come through on the train with him.
A gasoline torch lighted the operation faintly, and Phil gazed
with fascinated eyes while the stealthy hand opened the bag
quickly extracting its contents.
Almost at the instant the woman looked down, perhaps attracted by
the tug at the bag.
"I've been robbed!" she cried.
The words stirred Phil to instant action.
In another second the thief felt a vise-like grip about the wrist
that held the plunder.
"Here's the man that did it, madam.  Call an officer," said
Phil calmly.
THE CIRCUS BOY IS RECOGNIZED
Giving the wrist of his prisoner a sharp twist, Phil snatched
away the small handful of bills that the fellow had stolen,
returning them to the woman.
By this time the thief had suddenly recovered his wits and sought
to jerk his hand away, seeing that it was merely a boy who had
grabbed him.  To the surprise of the crook he found it was not an
easy matter to free himself from that grip.  After making several
desperate efforts the fellow adopted other methods.
"Let go of me, I tell you.  I'll have you put away for this."
"I'll let go of you when a policeman has hold of you, and not
before," retorted Phil.  "You are a thief.  I saw you steal that
woman's money."
The man suddenly uttered an angry exclamation and launched a blow
at Phil's head, which the lad avoided, allowing it to pass over
his shoulder.
"Hurry!  Get a policeman!  This man is a thief," urged Phil, as
he closed with his antagonist.
"Thief!  Thief," cried several voices at once.  It was a cry that
had been heard before about the Sully shows.
Phil had not struck back at his enemy.  Instead the lad, by a
skillful twist, had whirled the fellow about until his back was
toward the boy.  Then Phil suddenly let go his hold on the wrist,
clasping the man around the body and pinioning his arms to
"You might as well stand still," said the lad coolly.  "You can't
get away until I permit you to, and that won't be until something
that looks like a policeman comes along."
In the meantime the captive was struggling and threatening.
All at once he raised his voice in a peculiar, wailing cry.
The Circus Boy felt sure that it was some sort of a signal,
though it was new to him.  But he was not to be cowed.
"Police!" shouted Phil.
"Police!" cried many voices.
Half a dozen men came rushing into the crowd, thrusting the
people aside as they ran, looking this way and that to learn from
where the cry for assistance had come.
Phil's captive uttered a sharp cry, and the lad realized what
was going to happen.  At first he had thought it was the police
coming, but he was undeceived the moment he caught his prisoner's
appeal to them. The men dashed toward the two, and as they rushed
in Phil whirled his man so that the latter collided violently
with the newcomers.  That checked the rush briefly.  He knew,
however, that he could not hope to stand off his assailants for
more than a few seconds.  Yet the lad calculated that in those
few seconds the police might arrive.  He did not know that they
had been well bribed neither to see nor to hear what occurred on
the circus grounds.
A moment more and the lad had been roughly jerked from his
captive and hurled violently to the ground.
Phil sprang up full of fight while the angry fellows closed in
on him.  He saw that they were showmen.  A sudden idea occurred
"Hey, Rube!" he shouted at the top of his voice, hoping that the
rest of the show people within reach of his voice might crowd in
and in the confusion give him a chance to get away.
And they did crowd in.  They came on like a company of soldiers,
sweeping everything before them.  Phil, in that brief instant,
while he was sparring to keep his opponents off, found time to
smile grimly.
The fellow he had first made captive now attacked Phil
viciously, the lad defending himself as best he could, while the
people who had come to attend the show got out of harm's way as
rapidly as possible.  Phil could hope for no assistance from
that quarter.
"I guess I have gotten myself into a worse scrape by calling
the rest of the gang," he muttered, noting that he was being
surrounded as some of the first comers pointed him out to
Suddenly they fell upon Phil with one accord.  He was jerked
this way and that, but succeeded pretty well in dodging the
blows aimed at his head, though his clothes were torn and he
was pretty badly used.
Suddenly a voice roared out close behind him.
Turning his head a little Phil recognized Sully, the owner of
the show.  Sully's face was redder than ever.
"What--what's all this row about?  Haven't you fellows anything
more important to do than raising a roughhouse?  Get out of here,
the whole bunch of you!  What's he done?  Turn him over to the
police and go on about your business."
One of the men said something in a low tone to Sully.
The showman shot a keen, inquiring glance at the lad.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"I don't know that it makes any difference.  I saw a fellow
robbing a woman, and it was my duty to stop him.  I did it, then
a lot of his companions, who, I suppose, belong to your show
pitched into me."
"So, you are trying to run the whole show, are you?"
"Well, you get off this lot as fast as you can hoof it.  If I
find you butting in again it will be the worse for you."
"That's the fellow who was hanging around the lot at
St. Catharines yesterday," spoke up someone.
"Yes; I remember now, he was asking me questions," said another,
whose voice Phil recognized as belonging to the foreman of the
stake and chain gang.  "I got to thinking about it afterwards,
and realized that he was a little too inquisitive for
a greenhorn.  He's been on the lot all day again."
Mr. Sully surveyed Phil with an ugly scowl.
"What are you doing around here, young man?"
"For one thing, I am trying to prevent one of your followers
robbing a woman," answered Phil boldly.
"Who are you?"
"That is my own affair."
"I know him!  I know him!  I Know!" shouted another.
Sully turned to him inquiringly.
"Who is he, if you know so much?"
"He's a fellow what was with the Sparling outfit last year.
He was always butting in then, and I can tell you he ain't
here for any good now, Boss."
"So, that's the game is it?" sneered Sully.  "You come with me.
I've got a few questions I want to ask you."
"I don't have to go with you," replied Phil.
"Oh, yes you do!  Bring him along and if he raises a row just
hand him one and put him to sleep."
Two men grabbed Phil roughly by his arms.
He jerked away and started to run when he was pounced upon and
borne to the ground.  Phil found himself grasped by the collar
and jerked violently to his feet, with the leering face of Sully
thrust up close to his own.
"I'll see that you don't get away this time," growled
the showman.
Dragging the lad along by the collar further off on the lot, the
showman finally paused.
"Get the carriage," he commanded sharply.
"What you going to do with me?" demanded Phil.
"That depends.  I'm going to find out something about you first,
and decide what to do with you later."
"And, when you get through, I shall have you arrested
for assault.  It will be my turn to act then," retorted the
Circus Boy.  "I have done nothing except to stop a miserable
thief from plying his trade.  I understand that's a game you--"
"That will do, young man.  Here's the wagon.  Now, if you
go quietly you will have no trouble.  But just try to call
for help, or raise any sort of a ruction, and you'll see
more stars than there are in the skies when the moon's on
a strike.  Get in there."
Phil was thrust into the closed carriage, which the showman used
for driving back and forth between the train and the lot.
Quick as a flash Phil Forrest dived through the open coach window
on the other side, and with equal quickness he was pounced upon
by the driver, who had gotten off on that side, probably at a
signal from Sully.
Had Sully not run around to the other side of the wagon Phil
would have quickly disposed of the driver, strong as was
With an enraged cry Sully sprang upon Phil, and raised his hand
"If you attempt to do that you'll serve the rest of the season
in jail," dared Phil, taking a bold course.  "You know they
don't trifle with brutes like you up here in Canada?"
Sully growled an unintelligible reply, but that he recognized the
truth of the lad's words was evident when he slowly dropped his
clenched fist to his side.
"I'll see that you don't get away this time," he said once more
thrusting Phil into the carriage, this time, however, keeping a
firm grip on the lad's arm.
The driver whipped up the horse and the carriage rumbled away,
soon reaching the village street and turning sharply off into a
side street.
ON SULLY'S PRIVATE CAR
"Where are you taking me?" Phil demanded.
"You'll see in a minute."
"And so will you.  There are laws to punish such high-handed
methods as yours, and I'll see that you are punished, and well
punished, too.  If I can't do it, there are others who will--who
will see that you get what you deserve."
"Keep on talking.  It will be my turn pretty soon,"
answered Sully.
In a short time Phil discovered that they were driving along by
the railroad tracks.  He knew that the yards where the circus
train was standing were only a short distance beyond.
"I guess he's going to take me to the train, for some reason
or other," decided Phil, but he could not understand what the
showman's motive might be.
The Circus Boy was not afraid, but he was thoroughly angry.
His grit and stubbornness had been aroused and he was ready to
take any desperate chance.  However, he felt that, after all,
this capture might be the means of giving him the further
information of which he was in search.  He might possibly be
able to draw some admission from Sully.
They drew up beside the tracks and the carriage halted.
"Now, not a sound!" warned the showman.  "If you raise your
voice, or so much as speak to anyone you see, I'll forget that
you are a kid and--"
"I am not afraid of your threats," interrupted Phil.  "I know you
are brute enough to do what you say you will, but it won't be
good for you if you do.  Go on.  I'll follow till I get a chance
"You'll not get the chance," retorted Sully, taking firm hold of
the boy's arm.
They made their way through the yards, avoiding the gasoline
torches that flared familiarly here and there among the mass
of cars, then turned toward the station.  As the lights of the
latter came into view, the showman halted, looked up and down
the tracks, then led Phil to the platform of a car which the
boy recognized as being one of the show's sleepers.
"That's what I thought he was up to," muttered Phil, watching for
an opportunity to leap off the other side and lose himself among
No such opportunity was offered to him, however, and a moment
later the door of the sleeper had been opened, and he was pushed
roughly inside, Mr. Sully following in quickly, slamming and
locking the door behind them.
"Get in there and sit down!"
"In the private office there."
"So this is your private car, is it?"
"You seem to know a lot about the show business."
Phil made no reply, but dropped into the owner's chair at the
latter's desk.
"Get out of that chair!"
"I thought you invited me to sit down?"
"I did, but I might have known you wouldn't have had sense enough
to sit where you ought to."
"Where's that?"
"On the floor."
"I am not in the habit of being received that way," taunted Phil,
making no move to vacate the chair.
Sully, with a grunt of disapproval, sat down in another chair,
placing himself so the light would fall fully on Phil's face.
"Now, what's your name?"
"You'll have to guess that," smiled Phil.
"That's where you're wrong.  I know it."
"What is my name?"
"Forrest.  You're a bareback rider in the Sparling outfit.
You thought you would not be known, but you see you are.
You can't fool a man in the show business so easily.  After you
have grown older in the business you will learn a few things."
"I am learning fast," laughed the lad.  "I am learning a lot of
things that I wish I did not have to learn."
"What, for instance?"
"That there are such men as you in the show business."
"Be careful, boy.  You will go too far, the first thing you know.
Now, what are you doing here?"
"If you know so much I don't see why you should have to ask
that question."
"I'm asking."
"And I'm not telling.  I'll answer none of your questions, unless
it is about something that I can tell you without getting others
into trouble."
"You already have admitted that you are with the Sparling show.
You have made several slips of the tongue since I got hold
"I haven't denied that I am with the Sparling show, neither have
I admitted it.  I decline to lie or to give you any information
of any nature whatever."
"When is the Sparling show coming here?"
"I was not aware that it was coming here.  Is it?"
"No, I didn't mean that.  I mean when are they going to show
in Corinto?"
Phil was silent.
"You might as well make a clean breast of the whole business,
young man.  I've caught you red-handed, snooping about the lot
for two days quizzing everybody.  Now what's the game?"
"There is no game."
"What is Sparling trying to find out?"
"You will have to ask him, I guess."
Sully surveyed the lad in silence for a minute or two.
"I couldn't understand, at first, why he should send a kid like
you to spy upon us; but I begin to see that you are a sharp
little monkey--"
Just then the showman was interrupted by the entrance of the
foreman of the stake and chain gang.
"Bob, I want you to tell me exactly what questions this cub asked
you yesterday?"
"I thought he was some curious town fellow, so I didn't pay much
attention to his questions.  When I saw him on the lot, again
today, and heard him asking other folks, kind of careless like,
I began to smell a rat."
"What did he want to know, I'm asking you?"
The foreman related as well as he could remember, just
what conversation had taken place between himself and
Phil Forrest, omitting, however, the fact that he had furnished
any information.  It would have ended his connection with the
show right there, had he let the owner know how much he really
Phil grinned appreciatively, but it was not for him to get the
foreman into trouble.
"Hm-m!" mused Sully.  "You found out a lot, I presume?"
"I can truthfully say that I found out that what I had heard
about the show is true."
"And what's that, if I may ask?"
"Thieves.  I happen to know that they travel right along with the
show, and I shouldn't be surprised if you got part of their
stealings, either," Phil boldly flung at the showman.
Sully's face went redder than ever, while his fingers clenched
and unclenched.  It was evident that the man feared to let his
anger get the better of him.
"If he ever lets go at me, I'm a goner," thought Phil
understanding that, besides an almost ungovernable temper, the
man possessed great physical strength.  "I guess he won't do
anything of the sort, unless I goad him to it.  I believe that I
have said about enough."
"Watch him a minute, Bob," directed Sully, rising and stepping to
the other end of the car.  He returned a minute later.
"Young man," he said, "if you had been more civil you might have
gotten away with your bluff--"
"I have not tried to bluff you," interjected Phil.
"As it is, I think I'll lock you up until morning, and, if you
are ready then to make a clean breast of the whole affair,
perhaps I shall let you go back with a message to your boss--a
message that he won't like, I reckon."
"You won't send any such message by me," retorted Phil.
"Carry your own messages.  Where you going to lock me up?"
"In a place where you will be safe.  But I shouldn't advise you
to get red-headed about it.  There will be someone nearby to take
all the howl out of you if you try it."
"You had better not!"
"What do you think, Bob?  Is it safe to let this fellow go?"
"Well, I suppose you've got to let him go sometime.  He'll be
getting us into trouble if you keep him."
"I'll take the chance of that.  We can drop him just before
crossing the line back into the United States."
"That's a good game."
"Then the United States authorities can't take any action on
an offense committed across the border.  I don't believe they
would, anyway.  It is all a part of the show game.  I'd like to
drop the spy over the Falls when we get to Niagara," added Sully.
"I might get wet if you did that," grinned Phil.
"You'll be lucky if you don't get worse, which you will unless
you keep a more civil tongue in your head.  Yes; I guess that
will be the best plan, Bob."
"You--you don't mean that you will drop him over the Falls?"
gasped the foreman.
"No," laughed Sully.  "Not that, much as I'd like to.  But it
would serve him right.  I'm going to lock him up; that's what
"But he'll get out."
"Not from where I put him."
The foreman looked about him a puzzled expression in his eyes.
"What do you say to the linen closet?"
"The linen closet?"
"Yes.  I have just looked at it.  There will be room enough for
him, and there's no opening through which he can call to anyone
on the outside.  If he does make an outcry some of us will be
here to look after him."
"That's a good game.  I hadn't thought of it before."
"Come along, my fine young bareback rider.  You'll wish you'd
stuck to your own business before you get through with us!"
Phil was led down the side passageway of the car and thrust into
a narrow compartment, about three sides of which were shelves
loaded down with the linen used on the car.
There was room for a chair in the compartment and he could
stand upright.  However, had he wished to lie down he would
have been unable to do so.
"So this is the prison you have decided to lock me in, is it?"
grinned the lad.
"It looks that way.  I guess it will bring you to your senses.
You'll talk by tomorrow morning, I'll guarantee."
"I guess you will have another guess coming," warned Phil.
Without further parley Sully slammed the door and locked it,
leaving Phil in absolute darkness.
"Now I am in a fix, for sure.  If Sully hadn't been quite so big
I should have taken a chance and pitched into him.  He is strong
enough to eat me alive.  I could handle the fellow, Bob, all
right, but not Sully.  So I have got to stay here all night?
Fine, fine!  I hope I don't smother."
The car soon settled down to quiet again.  Phil knew, however,
that he was not alone--that undoubtedly there was someone
watching his prison.  He examined the place as well as he could
in the darkness, tried the door, ran his hands over the sides and
up among the piles of linen.  There was scant encouragement to be
found, though Phil believed that if he had room to take a running
start he might break the door down.
He decided to remain quiet, and after his exciting experiences he
was quite willing to rest himself for a time.  The lad pulled a
lot of the linen down to the floor, and making a bed for himself,
doubled up like a jackknife and settled himself for the night.
It was not a comfortable position, but Phil Forrest was used to
roughing it.  In a few minutes he was sound asleep.
LOCKED IN THE LINEN CLOSET
Phil roused himself for a moment.
"We're going," he muttered, realizing that the train was
in motion.  Then he dropped off to sleep again.
When next he awakened it was broad daylight, though the lad
did not know it until after he had struck a match and looked
at his watch.
"Eight 'clock in the morning," he exclaimed.  "My, how I must
have slept, and on such a bed too!"
The lad was lame and sore from the cramped position in which he
had been obliged to lie all night, but he was just as cheerful as
if he had awakened in his own berth on sleeper number eleven on
the Sparling train.  He began to feel hungry, though.
Phil tapped on the door.  There was no response, so he rapped
again, this time with more force.  Still failing to arouse anyone
Phil delivered a series of resounding kicks against the door.
"If no one answers that I'll know there is nobody here and I'll
see if I can't break the door down."
There was someone there, however, as was made plain a moment
later, when the door was thrown suddenly open, revealing the
grinning face of Sully, the owner of the show.
"Morning," greeted Phil.  "I thought maybe breakfast was being
served in the dining car, and I didn't want to miss it."
"You're a cheerful idiot, aren't you?"
"So I have been told.  But about that breakfast?  If you'll
kindly conduct me to the wash room, so I can make myself
beautiful and prepare for breakfast, I shall be obliged to you."
"Huh!" grunted the showman.
"Where are we?"
"Is this where we show today?"
"Yes, this is where we show today.  As if you didn't know that as
well as I do."
"I may have heard something to that effect.  I don't just
remember for the moment.  But, how about that breakfast?"
"How do you know you are going to get any breakfast?"
"Because I smelled it a few minutes ago."
"That's my breakfast that your keen nose scented, young man."
"Well, I guess I can stand it for once."
Sully was forced to smile at his young captive's good nature.
So he took Phil by the arm and led him to the wash room, where
the showman remained until Phil had completed his preparations
for breakfast.  Then Sully led the way to a compartment at the
rear of the car where a small table had been set.
"This looks good to me," grinned Phil, rubbing his
palms together.  "You live high in this outfit, don't you?"
The lad ate his breakfast with a will.
"I hope I am not depriving you of your meal?" questioned Phil,
glancing up quickly.
"I've had my breakfast.  If there had been only enough for one,
you'd have gone hungry."
"You don't have to tell me that.  I know it.  That's about
your measure."
"That will be about all from you," snapped the showman.
"The trouble with you is that you can't appreciate
decent treatment.  You're just like your boss."
"I'll not hear you say a word against Mr. Sparling," bristled
Phil, then suddenly checked himself.
"So, I caught you that time, did I?" exclaimed Sully, slapping
his thighs and laughing uproariously, while Phil's face grew red
with mortification at the slip he had made.  "You are not half as
smart as you think you are, young man.  I'll keep at you until I
get out of you all the information I want."
"I'm afraid the show season isn't long enough for you to do
that," was the boy's quick retort.
"You'll find out whether it is or not."
"I shall not be with you that long.  Now that I have admitted
that I have been connected with the Sparling show, what do you
think my employer will do when he finds I am missing?"
"I rather guess he will do something.  Wait."
"When does he expect you back?"
Phil looked at the showman, laughing.
"Did I mention that I was expected?  I said that when he missed
me there would be an inquiry, and there will."
"Little good that will do him," growled the showman.
"Then you don't know James Sparling."
"How'll he know you are here?"
"Trust him to find out, and then--wow!  There will be
an explosion that you can hear on the other side of the
St. Lawrence.  Do I take a walk for my health
after breakfast?"
"Thank you."
"To the other end of the car, to the linen closet, where you are
to stay until--"
"Until what?" questioned Phil sharply.
"Until you tell me what I want to know."
"What is it that you wish to know?"
"Why were you sent to spy on my outfit?"
"Perhaps for the same reason that you keep a spy in his camp,"
retorted Phil, bending a keen gaze on the face of his jailer.
Sully's face went violently red.  Without another word he grasped
Phil roughly by the shoulder, jerked him from the table and
hurried the lad down the corridor.
"Here, here, I haven't finished my breakfast yet," protested
"You have, but you don't know it.  You will know in a minute."
With that the showman thrust Phil into the linen closet again and
slammed the door.
"My, I wouldn't have a temper like yours if you were to make me a
present of a six-pole circus!" called the Circus Boy.
He chuckled as Sully uttered a grunt of anger and strode off to
the other end of the car.
"He'll be going to the lot after a while, then I'll get busy,"
muttered Phil.  In the meantime there was nothing for him to do
but to sit down and make the best of his situation, which he did.
Once, during the morning, Phil, believing himself to be alone,
made several desperate attempts to break the door down.
His efforts brought a threat from the corridor as to what would
happen if he tried that again.  Phil knew, then, that he was not
to be left alone.
After a while the lad went to sleep, not awakening until late in
the afternoon.
He got no supper that night, nor did the showman come near him
until late on the following morning.  Phil was ravenously hungry,
not having had a thing to eat in twenty-four hours, but he had
too much grit to utter a word of complaint.
An excellent breakfast was served, but instead of Mr. Sully one
of his men sat at the table while another stood out in the
corridor ready to take a hand in case the boy made an effort
Had there been an open window near him Phil would have tried a
dive through it, taking the chance of getting away.  The windows
in the room where the breakfast was served had been prudently
shut, however.
He had just finished his breakfast when Sully came storming in.
The lad could see that he was very angry about something.
"Good morning, sir.  Aren't you feeling well this morning?"
questioned Phil innocently.
"Feeling--feeling--" The words seemed to choke in the
showman's throat.
"Yes, feeling."
"Why--why--why didn't you tell me that Sparling had changed
his date and was planning to make Corinto the same day we are
billed there?" thundered Sully.
"Is he?  You know very well that he is, and it was your report
that put him up to doing this trick.  We've got you to thank for
this piece of business, and you're going to pay dear for your
part in it.  Is he going to follow us all around the country--is
that what he's planning to do?"
"I guess you had better ask Mr. Sparling himself.  He hasn't seen
fit to tell me, as yet."
"I'll show him that he can't trifle with me, and I'll show you,
so you won't forget it for the rest of your circus career."
"I wouldn't make threats were I in your place, Mr. Sully.
Wait until you get over your mad fit; then you'll be glad you
didn't say anything you might have to take back later on,"
advised Phil.
"Take back?  Take back?"
For the moment the showman was too far overcome with emotion
to speak.  Then he uttered a roar and stamped out of the car.
"Say, when is he going to let me out of here?"
"Not till we get to the border," answered the attendant.
"When will that be?"
"I don't know for sure.  I guess maybe a month."
"You don't mean he is going to keep me in that linen cupboard for
a full month--you can't mean that?"
"Can't say about that.  I guess that's it.  If you're finished
with your breakfast--"
"I have been finished for sometime."
"Then you'll have to git back to the coop again."
Phil reluctantly rose, but his keeper kept tight hold of him, and
the man on guard out in the corridor walked ahead of the boy on
down to the linen closet, where Phil was once more thrust in and
the door closed on him.
He had not been there long before he heard Sully enter the car
with one of his men.  All at once their voices seemed to come to
him clearly and distinctly.  The lad did not remember to have
heard voices there so plainly before.
This time Phil began looking about to see if there were not
really an opening in his chamber.  He found it at the top
over one of the shelves, a small grill, over which a curtain
had been stretched.  Phil lost no time in climbing up to it.
He peered out and saw the men plainly.  With Sully was his
parade manager, and they were talking excitedly.
Phil opened his eyes wide when he began to realize the enormity
of the plan that they were discussing.
CHAPTER XIII
THROUGH RINGS OF FIRE
"If there should happen to be a wind we might cut a rope or two
and let the big top down on them," suggested parade manager.
"Yes; it would put them out of business for the night
performance, but we don't want them to fill up for the
afternoon show.  That's when they are going to get the money.
You see, Sparling's show is bigger and better known than ours,
and showing there the same day we are liable to get the worst
of it.  Can't you suggest anything else?"
"If you don't like letting the big top down on their heads,
and providing there is no wind to make the attempt worthwhile,
I would suggest another way."
"The scoundrels!" breathed the listener above their heads.
"What's your suggestion?"
"Stampede the elephants."
"That's a dandy!  And we know how to do it, eh, Lawrence?"
The parade manager nodded emphatically.
"They'll never know what happened to them.  We can do it before
the show gets to the lot if you think best?"
Sully shook his head.
"No.  We'll wait till just as the doors are about to open for
the afternoon show.  Mind you, I'm not saying we shall do it.
I'll think about the matter.  Perhaps I can think up a better
plan after I have gone over the matter."
"Where's that boy you told me about?"
Sully motioned toward the end of the car where Phil was locked in
the linen closet.
"What you going to do with him?"
"Drop him when I get ready."
"But aren't you afraid the other outfit will get wind of what you
are doing?  It's pretty dangerous business to lock up a fellow
"I don't care whether they get wise to it or not.  They won't
know where he is.  After we get to the border I don't care a rap
for them," and the showman snapped his fingers disdainfully.
"They can't touch us on the other side of the Niagara River and
they'd better not try it.  Maybe Sparling won't be in business by
that time," grinned the showman with a knowing wink.
Sully rose, and shortly afterwards left the car with his
parade manager.
Phil sat down on the floor of his compartment with head in hands,
trying to think what he had better do.  These men were planning a
deliberate campaign to wreck his employer's show.
"Something must be done!" breathed the boy, clenching his fists
until the nails bit into the flesh, "But what can I do, I can do
nothing unless I can get away from here, and they will not let me
out, at least not until we have gotten by Corinto."
The more he thought and planned the greater his
perplexity became.  There seemed no way out of it.  His only
hope now seemed to lie in Mr. Sparling becoming alarmed at his
absence, and instituting a search for him.  His employer would
quickly divine something of the truth after Phil had remained
silent for two or three days.  Perhaps, even now, the owner of
the Great Sparling Combined Shows had sent someone on to learn
what had become of his star
bareback rider.
Phil's train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the door of
his compartment being violently jerked open.
The lad's first impulse was to tell Sully, who now stood facing
him, what he had overheard.  Upon second thought, however, Phil
decided that it would be much better to give the showman no
intimation of what he had learned.
"Come out, young man."
Phil complied, glad to be free of his narrow chamber, no matter
what the reason for the summons might be.
"What do you wish of me now?"
"Come into my office and I'll tell you.  I understand you are
a bareback rider," continued Sully, after they had seated
themselves in his little office, the door being locked
behind them.
"So you say."
"And a good one at that?"
Phil made no answer.  He had not the least idea what was coming.
"My principal bareback rider stepped on a switch frog this
morning and turned his ankle.  He is out of the running for
a week.  I need a man more than I ever did.  Do you want to
join this show?"
Phil gazed at him in amazement.
"You haven't money enough to induce me to."
"Perhaps I have, but I won't induce with it," grinned the owner.
"I've a plan to suggest."
"What is it?"
"If you will ride for me until we get to Corinto I'll give you
seventy-five dollars."
The Circus Boy was on the point of making an emphatic refusal,
when he suddenly checked himself and remained silent, as if
thinking the proposition over.
"Well, what do you say?"
"If I do as you wish, when will you let me go?"
"Perhaps after we leave Corinto."
"I don't believe you intend to do anything of the sort."
"You think I'd lie to you?" blustered Sully.
"I'm not saying that.  But I know you are not above doing
worse things.  I'll tell you what I will do."
"I'll ride for you today for twenty-five dollars."
"Payable in advance, you know."
"I guess you don't trust me?"
"Not for a minute."
"Well, I must say you are brutally frank."
"That's the way I do business," answered the lad proudly.
"But see here, young man, you must agree that you will make no
effort to get away," demanded the showman a sudden thought
occurring to him.
"I shall make no such agreement.  If I get a chance to get away
I'll do it, you may depend upon that.  I will agree, however, to
make no outcry nor to appeal to anyone to help me.  If I can't
manage it my own way, I'll stay here till I can.  Remember, I'm
going to beat you if I can, and if I can't, why Mr. Sparling will
settle with you.  He will do it properly, too."
The showman leaned back and guffawed loudly.
"I never saw a kid like you yet.  You beat anything that ever got
into a freak tent.  You are so infernally honest that you give me
notice you're going to try to escape from me.  Thanks, my boy,
for the timely warning.  I'll see to it that you don't get away
until I am ready to lose you.  If you try it you must expect some
rough treatment, and you'll get it too."
"Very well; I accept the terms.  How about the payment
in advance?"
Sully drew a roll of bills from his pocket counting out the sum
agreed upon.
"If you should happen to get away I'd be out the money?"
"I'll send it back to you in that event."
"Ho, ho, ho!  I believe you would, at that."
"I certainly shall."
"Say, kid, don't it ever give you pain to be so awfully honest?"
"I'll confess that it does when I am doing business with a man
"Oh!  That one landed.  That was a knockout," chuckled the
showman, rising.  "I'll be back after you with the rig
pretty soon.  We've got to fix up some togs for you to ride in,
but I guess we can do that all right.  I'll have to put you back
in your cage in the meantime." It lacked an hour and a half of
the time for the afternoon performance to begin when Sully called
with his carriage for his new star.  Phil was ready, as far as he
was able to be, and really welcomed the opportunity to get out in
the air again.  But he was so stiff from the confinement in the
narrow linen closet that he did not feel as if he should be able
to ride at all.
The drive to the circus lot was without incident, and Phil
embraced the opportunity to familiarize himself with the
town and its surroundings as fully as was possible under
the circumstances.  He had tried to form some plan by which
to make his escape, but had given it up and decided to
trust to luck.
There was another reason for his having decided to ride in
the Sully Hippodrome Show that day, and every day thereafter,
providing he was not able to get away before leaving Corinto.
He hoped that Mr. Sparling might have sent someone on to find
out what had become of him.  This was sure to be done sooner or
later, especially when the showman found that his letters were
not being answered, but were being returned to him, as had been
arranged for before Phil left his own show.
Reaching the lot they drove around to the paddock where Phil
and his new employer entered the dressing tent.  Even there the
lad was given no chance to break away.  It seemed to him that
every person connected with the show had been set to watch him.
When he entered the dressing tent he was subjected to the
curious gaze of the performers, most of whom understood that he
was to ride that day in the place of the injured performer, but
who knew nothing further about the matter.
Some difficulty was experienced in getting a pair of tights that
would fit Phil, but after awhile this was arranged.
"You sit down here and wait now," directed Mr. Sully.
"No; I've got something else to do.  Bring the horse out in the
paddock and let me see what I have to ride," answered Phil.
While they were getting out the ring horse, the lad indulged in a
series of bends and limbering exercises out in the paddock,
working until the perspiration stood out in great beads.
This done Phil sprang up to the back of the ring horse, and
while an attendant held the animal in a circle with a long
leading strap, Phil rode the horse about the paddock a few
times until he had become familiar with the motion and
peculiarities of the animal.
"How is he in the ring, fast or slow?"
"Just steady.  Been at it a long time," the attendant
informed him.  "He's steady.  You can depend on him."
"Yes; he acts so.  I'll look at the ring when I go in."
The owner of the show had been a keen observer of
these preparations.  He noted, too, Phil appeared
entirely to have forgotten about his desire to escape.
"That kid acts to me as if he knew his business," he reflected.
"If he rides the way I think he can, I'm going to get him away
from Sparling if I have to double the wages he's drawing now.
And money talks!"
The band began to play in the big top.  Phil glanced at
the showman.
"When do I go on?"
"Second number."
The lad nodded, and sat awaiting his turn to enter
the arena.  He did not have to ask when the moment had arrived.
The attendant started to lead the ring horse in and Phil quickly
fell in behind, following them in.
Right behind the Circus Boy came Sully, the owner of the show,
never taking his eyes off his captive for a moment.  This amused
the lad.  He grinned broadly.  It was a novel experience for him.
Soon the strains of music told him this was where he was to begin
his act.  The boy swung gracefully to the back of his mount.
Instantly he had leaped to his feet Sully clapped his hands
together approvingly.
"That's the way to do it.  You've got the other fellow skinned
forty ways!" he cried.
"In some ways," replied Phil significantly.  "Otherwise not."
The ring was in excellent shape, much to the boy's surprise, and
the horse was the best he ever had ridden.  In a few moments Phil
began to feel very much at home and to enjoy himself thoroughly.
The ring attendants brought out strips of bright yellow cloth,
which two clowns held across the ring for the Circus Boy to leap
over as his horse passed under.  This did not bother him in the
least, though he had never tried the act before.  It was a relic
of the old circus days that few shows had retained.
But Phil was on the point of balking when a clown came out with a
handful of hoops covered with paper.
"You want me to jump through those things?" he questioned, during
a brief intermission.
"Does the other man do that?"
"Then I can do it, I guess."
"I reckon you can do anything on a horse that you happen to feel
like," said the showman.
The band started up again and Phil sprang to his feet.  A paper
hoop was raised on the opposite side of the ring, the lad eyeing
it hesitatingly.
"I'll go through it if I break my neck trying," he muttered,
shutting his lips tightly together.
The Circus Boy hurled himself through the tender paper, but the
breaking paper stung his face like the crack of a whip lash, and
Phil, instead of landing on his feet as he should have done,
struck the back of his ring horse on all fours.
Sully growled angrily.
"You make a blunder like that again, and you'll be sorry for it,"
he bullied, shaking an angry fist at Phil, who turned a pair of
surprised eyes on the showman.
"See here," retorted the lad with rising color, "I'm not in the
habit of being talked to like that.  If you don't like my riding
I'll end the act right here.  I'm not obliged to ride for you,
"Go on, go on!" snapped the owner.
The next hoop Phil took as easily as if he had been doing that
very same thing all through the season.
"Fine!" chuckled Sully.  "He's a star performer, even if he does
give me as good as I send."
Phil was hurling himself through a succession of hoops now.
Then all at once, to his surprise and disapproval, five hoops
of fire flared up before him and on all sides of him.
"Go through them!" shouted the showman.
"You can't stop now.  Are you going to let a little thing like
that give you an attack of cold feet?" demanded Sully.
Thus appealed to, Phil Forrest thought better of it.
"Yip!--yip!" he cried sharply to the ring horse, riding straight
at the first ring which he took without difficulty, though the
hot flame on his cheeks made him shrink himself into a smaller
compass than had been the case with the paper rings.
The audience was applauding him wildly, for somehow this slender,
youthful figure appealed to them more strongly than had any other
performer in the show thus far.  One after another Phil took the
flaming rings until he came to the last one which he approached
with more confidence than he had any of the others.
He hurled himself at it with less caution than before.  As he
entered the hoop of fire his elbows caught it, and instantly the
lad felt the fire burning through his silk ring shirt.
Without an instant's hesitation the boy leaped up into the air,
clearing his horse by a full two feet.
The force of his throw sent the ring of fire soaring through the
air, as he had, with quick intuition, imagined that it would.
Phil threw a splendid backward somersault almost slipping off the
hips of the ring horse.
"Great!" exploded the owner.
The audience applauded wildly.
But the next instant Sully was not shouting approving words.
The burning ring had slipped neatly over his own head and before
he could throw it off, his clothes, as well, were on fire.
Throwing himself down in the sawdust the showman rolled and
rolled, uttering loud imprecations and threats, while audience
and performers fairly screamed with delight.
He was up in a flash, expecting to find Phil making a dash
for freedom.
"Stop him!" he bellowed.
Phil Forrest sat on the rump of the ring horse, grinning broadly
at the predicament of the owner of the Sully Hippodrome Circus.
A DASH FOR FREEDOM
"Well, you are a star rider, anyway," announced Sully, with
emphasis when he was once more leading Phil to the carriage to
take him back to the linen closet on board the private car.
But Sully was less violent, and there was a twinkle in his eyes
that Phil did not fail to catch.
"He's planning something," thought the boy, after being once more
locked in his compartment.  "I shouldn't be surprised if I had
ridden a little too well today.  But it's going to be the means
of getting me my freedom.  Someone surely will see me and
recognize me."
That night Phil rode again, winning even greater applause than he
had done at the afternoon performance.  But a closer watch was
kept over him, as Sully had imagined that the opportunities were
greater for escape than in broad daylight.  Phil had reasoned it
out the same way, but he was in no hurry.  He had done up his
money in a little bag which he hung about his neck each time
before going into the ring, so that it might not be stolen while
he was performing, for, it will be remembered that the lad had no
trunk in which to keep his valuables.
No chance to escape presented itself during the evening, however,
and the lad was forced to return to his imprisonment again after
the night performance.
"If you expect me to be in working order you should give me a
decent place to sleep," he told Sully, while they were sitting
at lunch in the private car that night.
Sully grinned and winked an eye.
"See anything green in my eye?"
"No.  It's all red.  I guess you see red most of the time."
"If you'll give me a promise, I'll let you sleep in a berth in
this car tonight."
"What promise?" asked Phil, though he knew pretty well what the
showman would demand.
"That you won't try to escape."
"I'll make no such promise."
"Then it's the linen closet for your."
"All right; I will sleep in the linen closet.  I suppose you will
want me to ride again tomorrow?"
"Sure thing!"
"Then don't forget the twenty-five dollars in advance."
"Say, that's more money than I'll pay for that act, good as it
is," protested the showman.
"Very well; then I will stay in the closet and you can cut your
bareback out.  You do not have to pay it unless you want to."
Sully growled and handed out the money.
Phil put it in his pocket with a smile and half audible chuckle
that did not tend to make Sully feel any the less irritable.
"Perhaps it is a good thing that I am a prisoner if I have got to
stay with this outfit."
"Why?" snapped the showman.
"Because some of your light-fingered gentlemen would be dipping
into my pocket, when I wasn't looking, and take the money away
from me.  That's the way you would get it back."
"That will be about all for you, boy," growled the showman.
"That is, unless you are willing to tell me what you are
The Circus Boy laughed lightly.
"I have nothing new to say to that question."
"You've done your part well.  You must have got busy pretty quick
to have tipped off Sparling before we caught you."
"Tipped him off to what?" inquired Phil.
"Well, never mind what.  You know and so do I."
After that the lad was sent to his closet to spend the night.
The next day was a repetition of the previous one, except that
Phil rode better than ever, if that were possible.  But as he
was riding under the name of the performer who had been injured,
he could not make himself known.
Saturday came along, with the lad apparently as far from making
his escape as ever.  But what he had hoped would come to pass had
done so in a measure.  That is, the owner of the show had become
a little careless in watching the boy.
Instead of accompanying Phil into the ring, Sully satisfied
himself with standing by the entrance to the paddock, next to
the bandstand.
This left Phil free to do pretty much as he chose, but he was
almost as closely confined as if he were in the owner's private
car, so far as getting away was concerned.  But the boy's mind
was working actively.
As he sat on the back of the broad-backed ring horse that
afternoon, his eyes were looking over the tent questioningly.
"I believe I can do it," mused Phil.  "If conditions are the same
tonight that they are this afternoon I am going to try it."
Just then the band struck up and the lad rose gracefully to his
feet ready to go through his act for the edification of the
great audience.
Phil was making more money than ever before in his circus career,
and he now had only one act instead of several.  But he cared
little for this.  It was merely a means to an end.
At night he accompanied Sully to the lot as usual.  Phil might
have appealed to a policeman, or to one of the many people
about him.  It will be remembered, however, that he had given
his word that he would do nothing of the sort, and Phil Forrest
was not the boy to break his word after once having given it.
He proposed to get away by his own efforts or else wait until
rescued by the Sparling show.
As had been the case with the afternoon show Sully remained over
by the bandstand while Phil went through his act.
"I'll finish my performance," decided the lad.  "I want to give
him his money's worth whether he deserves such treatment or not,
and then I'll make my try.  I can do it, I believe."
Nothing of what was passing in the mind of the Circus Boy, of
course, was suspected by the owner of the show.  Phil had just
rounded off his act by a backward somersault and the attendant
had slipped the bridle over the head of the ring horse
preparatory to leading the animal back to the paddock and
"You run along.  I will ride him back," directed Phil innocently.
"Because I prefer to."
"Very well," answered the groom, turning away and walking slowly
toward the paddock, while Phil, who had in the meantime slipped
off to the ring, was quickly drawing on his slippers.
By this time Mr. Sully was looking at him, wondering why Phil did
not get out of the ring, for another act was coming on, the
performers for which already were moving down the concourse.
All at once the Circus Boy threw himself to the back of his
mount, landing astride.
Phil brought his riding whip down on the back of the surprised
animal with a force that sent the horse forward with a snort.
They bounded out of the ring.  Instead, however, of turning
toward the paddock exit, Phil headed straight for the other end
of the tent.  There an exit led into the menagerie tent, or where
that tent had been, for by this time it had been taken down and
carted away to the train.  A canvas flap hung loosely over the
entrance, but it was not fastened down, as Phil well knew, being
left free so people could pass in and out at will.
It was the voice of Sully and might have been heard in every
part of the big top, though the people did not know what the
command meant.
For the moment the circus attendants did not understand either.
They had not noticed Phil riding away in the wrong direction.
"Stop him, I say!"
An attendant discovered what was going on and started on a
run for Phil, who brought his whip down on the flanks of the
ring horse again and again, driving the animal straight at
the attendant.  The result was that the fellow was bowled
over in a twinkling.  The horse cleared the man at a bound.
At this the audience roared.  They saw that something unusual was
taking place, though they did not understand what it all meant.
Half a dozen men ran toward Phil, while Sully himself was
charging down the concourse as fast as he could go, roaring out
his commands at the top of his powerful voice.
"Get a horse and follow him!" he shouted.  "Run back and send one
of the men out around the tent to head him off!  He's running
away with my best ring horse!"
Phil swept through the exit, bowling over two men who were
standing there on guard, and nearly running down a group of
boys who were standing just outside trying to get a glimpse
into the tent.
As he gained the outer air he heard the hoof beats of a running
horse bearing down on him from the left side of the big top.
The Circus Boy knew what that meant.  They were after
him already.
OUTWITTING THE PURSUERS
"Oh, if only I had a faster horse!" Forrest breathed.  "I am
afraid this old ring horse never will be able to get away
Phil was urging the animal with voice and whip, but it was
difficult to get the animal into a faster pace than his regular
ring gait--the gait that he had been following for many years.
This was scarcely faster than a man could trot.
Phil espied a pole wagon partially loaded, just ahead of him.
At sight of it a sudden idea occurred to him.  He acted at once.
Riding close to the wagon the lad slipped off and, giving the
horse a sharp blow with the whip over one hip, Phil ducked under
The ring horse galloped on a few rods and then stopped.
"I guess it's time I was getting away from here," decided
the lad.  "I'll be caught sure, if I do not hurry."
The lot was in an uproar.  Men were running this way and that,
and above the din could be heard the voice of the owner, roaring
Phil, being still in his pink tights, was a conspicuous figure.
He knew that if a ray from a torch should chance to rest on him
for a moment, they would discover him at once.
Running in a crouching position the boy made for the further side
of the lot, where he hoped to get far enough away so that he
could straighten up and make better time.
He did finally reach a safe place, and climbing a board fence,
dropped on the other side and lay down to await developments.
These were not long coming.  All at once he discovered half a
dozen men running directly toward him.  Whether they had caught
sight of him or not, he did not know.  He did know that it was
time to leave.
Phil left.  Springing up, he fairly flew over the ground.
The men caught sight of him, as he realized when one of them
uttered a yell.  But Phil was a faster runner than any of them
and in a few minutes, darting this way and that, and finally
doubling on his tracks in a wide circle, he succeeded in
outwitting them.
"The question is, what am I going to do now?" he asked himself,
pausing abruptly.  "In this rig I don't dare go into the town, or
they will nab me on some trumped up charge and then I shall be
worse off.  Now I am free, even if I haven't got much on me in
the way of clothing.  I might as well not have anything so far as
keeping warm is concerned."  Phil shivered, for the night was
cool and a heavy dew falling.
"I know what I'll do.  I'll slip back to the lot and perhaps I
shall be able to find something to put on.  There's usually
plenty of coats lying about on the wagons."
Now that the uproar had ceased Phil crept back toward the circus
lot, lying down in the grass whenever he heard a sound near him
and peering into the darkness.
At the risk of being discovered he crawled up to a wagon, climbed
aboard and searched it diligently for clothes.  He found none.
Keenly disappointed, Phil made his way to the pole wagon under
which he had taken refuge in his first effort at getting away.
This, he found, was loaded ready to be taken to the train.
At any moment, now, a team might be hitched to it.
"I guess I'll have to hurry!" muttered the lad.  Phil's knowledge
of circus affairs stood him in good stead now.
To the boy's delight, he found a bundle in which were a coat and
a pair of overalls, rolled up and stowed under the driver's seat.
"Fine!" chuckled Phil.  "It's a good deal like stealing, but I
have to have them and I'll send the fellow a new pair if ever I
get back to my own show.  He'll be mad in the morning when he
goes to get his clothes.  I wish I had a hat and pair of shoes.
But I guess I ought to be thankful for what I already have."
Saying this, Phil dropped from the wagon and quickly got into
the clothes.  They were old and dirty, but he did not mind that.
They were clothes and they would cover his conspicuous ring
costume, which was the most important thing for him to consider
at the present moment.
"Now, I'll buy a ticket and get started for Corinto," he decided.
Phil reached under the neck of his shirt for his little bag
"Oh, pshaw!  I've lost it.  Let me see, did I put my money in
there before I entered the ring?"
For the life of him he was unable to say whether he had done so,
or whether his money was still in his clothes back in the
dressing tent.
"Well, I shall never see that money again, I am thinking.  If I
left it in my clothes it is gone by this time, and if I didn't it
is gone anyway," was his logical conclusion.
The first thing to be done now was to get off the lot, which
Phil did as quickly as possible.  Clad in the soiled, well-worn
garments with his coat buttoned tightly about his neck, the lad
attracted no special attention.  Getting well away from the
circus grounds, he halted to consider what his next move
"I guess I'll go over to the station and get some information,"
he decided.  This he did, but the lights looked so bright in the
station that he did not consider it prudent to enter.  So Phil
waited about until he saw one of the railroad switchmen coming in
from the yards.
"How far is it to Corinto, please?" he asked.
"Fifty miles."
"Whew!  So far as that?"
"Yes.  Belong to the show?"
"Well, not exactly.  I'm with them, but I can't say that I belong
to the outfit, and I'm glad I don't."
"Should think you would be glad," growled the switchman, who
evidently held the Sully combination in no high regard.
"Which way do the trains go for Corinto?"
"That way.  That track runs right through without a break.
It's a single track road all the way."
"Thank you."
"Going to hit the ties?"
"I'm likely to before I get there," laughed Phil, again thanking
his informant and starting away, for he saw some people
approaching whom he thought belonged to the show.
Leaning up against a freight car the lad considered what he had
better do.  At first he was inclined to try to steal a ride on
the circus train, but after thinking the matter over he concluded
that this would be dangerous.
"If they catch me again they surely will handle me pretty
roughly, and they may throw me off the train.  A few knocks more
or less might not make much difference, but I am not anxious to
be thrown from a rapidly moving circus train.  I guess I'll walk.
Let me see, tomorrow will be Sunday, and it is fifty miles
to Corinto.  I should be able to make the town by tomorrow
night sometime.  Yes, I'll try it."
Having formed this resolve, Phil started manfully off for his
long walk to Corinto.  He did not stop to consider that he would
be hungry before he got there.
He left the yards, for these were now full of employees busily
engaged in loading the cars.  Off near the outskirts of the town
he turned back to the tracks.
For two hours he plodded along cheerfully, but by this time the
rough traveling over the ties so hurt his feet, clad as they were
in light slippers, that he could scarcely walk.  Phil took off
the slippers and trotted about in the damp grass at the side of
the railroad track, until getting some relief, then started
An hour later the first of the circus trains thundered by him.
He could see the dim lights in the sleepers, and now and then
he made out the figure of a man stretched out under a cage on
"Anyway, I would rather be walking than locked up in that narrow
linen closet," decided the Circus Boy philosophically, once more
taking up his weary journey.
At sunrise Phil found that he was too tired to go much further
without taking a rest, so, as soon as he found a wooded place,
he climbed a fence and lay down in the shade of the trees, where
he quickly went to sleep.
The afternoon was well along when finally he awakened, sore and
stiff in every joint.
"If I should try to ride a bareback horse now I should fall
off for sure," he moaned, rubbing his lame spots vigorously.
"My, but I am hungry!  I wonder how far I am from Corinto?"
A mile post a little further along told him that he had covered
just twenty miles of his journey.  He still had thirty miles to
go--a long distance for one in his condition.
All during the rest of the day Phil was obliged to take
frequent rests.  Whenever he came to a stream he would halt
and thrusting his feet into the cooling water, keep them there
for some time.  This helped him considerably, for his feet
were swollen and feverish.  The sun beating down on his head
made him dizzy and faint, which was made the more disturbing
because of his empty stomach.
He managed, just before sunset, to get a sandwich at a farmhouse,
though he was looked upon with suspicion by the housewife who
gave him the food.  Phil offered to do something to pay for the
slender meal, but the woman refused and bade him be on his way.
"I don't blame her.  I must be a tough looking customer," grinned
the boy, again climbing the fence and starting along the track.
He fought shy of villages during daylight, fearing that he might
be arrested for vagrancy and locked up.  That would defeat
"I simply must get to Corinto and warn Mr. Sparling," he gritted.
"He doesn't know the plans these people have to harm him.  If it
were not for that I wouldn't try to go any further today.
I could get somebody to help me out for a day or so, until I
could write to Mr. Sparling."
Now and then he met a tramp or two, but none that he thought
looked any more disreputable than he himself did.  He passed the
time of day pleasantly, with such, and continued on his way.
Late in the evening he once more lay down for a rest.  But Phil
did not permit himself to sleep long.  He feared he should not
be able to wake up until morning if he did, and then he never
would reach the show town in time to warn Mr. Sparling of the
impending danger.
At daylight he was still ten miles from his destination.
"I must make it.  I shall make it!" he breathed, starting on a
run, having found a path at the side of the track.
However, he could not keep this up for long, and was soon obliged
to settle back into his former slow pace.
At last Phil came in sight of the church spires of a town.
"I believe that is Corinto," he said, shading his eyes and
peering off at the distant town.  "At any rate I can't be far
from it now."
The knowledge was almost as good as a meal.  Its effect on Phil
Forrest was magical.  He forgot all about his tender feet and
empty stomach as he swung into a good strong pace.
All at once he halted and listened.  The blare of the big horns
of a circus band reached his ears.
"The parade has started.  I must hurry now.  The Sully wretches
may do something to the parade," Phil cried, starting away on
a run.  Nor did he slacken his pace until he had gotten well into
the town.  Now he could hear two bands playing, and knew that the
rival parades were under way.
"Where is the circus lot--where is the parade," he asked a man as
he dashed by.
The man pointed off to the right and Phil took the next corner
with a rush.  As he swung into that street he saw the banners
of the Sparling show fluttering in the breeze as the parade
moved majestically toward him.  Taking to the street, for the
sidewalks were crowded, Phil ran with all speed.  Mr. Sparling,
in his carriage at the head, saw him coming.  At first he did
not recognize the lad; then all at once he discovered who the
Phil dashed up to the carriage.  Mr. Sparling reached out a hand
and pulled him in.
"Phil!" he cried.
"Quick, get the tents guarded!  Sully's gang are going to cut the
guy ropes.  Look out for the parade too.  I suspect they will try
to break it up!"
THE BATTLE OF THE ELEPHANTS
"Yes, hurry!" and Phil sank back, weak from lack of food and the
severe strain he had put upon himself.
Mr. Sparling grasped the meaning of the lad's words in a flash.
Snatching a whistle from his pocket he blew two short,
shrill blasts.  A mounted man came riding up at a gallop.
"Go to the lot!  Have the tents surrounded.  Let no one through
who doesn't belong to the show.  I trust you to look out for
our property.  An attempt may be made to do us damage while we
are out on parade.  Now, ride!"
The man did ride.  He whirled his horse and set it at a run down
the line, headed toward the circus lot.
"I've got to get back there myself, Phil.  Can you stand it to
stay in the carriage until it reaches the lot?"
"Yes, but I don't look fit.  I--"
"Sit up and look wise.  The people will think you are a clown and
they'll split their sides laughing.  I'll talk with you later.
You must have had a rough time of it."
"I have had."
Mr. Sparling jumped out of the carriage, and, ordering a rider to
dismount, took the latter's horse, on which he, too, rode back to
the lot with all speed.
Phil pulled himself together.  Half a block further on the
people, espying him, did laugh as Mr. Sparling had said
Phil grinned out of sheer sympathy.
"I must look funny riding in this fine carriage with four
white horses drawing me through the streets.  I don't blame
them for laughing.  If I had something to eat, now, I would
be all right.  I am getting to have as much of an appetite as
Teddy Tucker has.  I--"
Phil paused, listening intently.
"I hear another band and it is coming nearer," he exclaimed.
"That must be the Sully show.  I forgot in my excitement, to ask
Mr. Sparling about them.  I wonder where they are?"
The music of the rival band grew louder and louder, but strain
his eyes and ears as he would, Phil was unable to locate the
other show's line of parade.
"Where's that band?" he called up to the driver of his carriage.
"Off that side of the town, I guess," he answered, waving his
whip to the right of them.
"Well, I think they are pretty close to us and I don't like the
looks, or rather the sound of things."
At that moment Phil's carriage was drawn across an
intersecting street.  He looked up the street quickly.
"There they are!" he cried.
Less than a quarter of a block up the street he saw the other
parade sweeping down upon them, bands playing, flags flying
and banners waving.  Phil's quick, practiced eyes saw
something else too.  The elephants were leading the rival
parade, with horsemen immediately at their rear, the band
still further back.
This being so unusual in a parade, the Circus Boy knew that there
must be some reason for the peculiar formation.  The elephants
should have been further back in the line, the same as were those
of the Sparling show.
Phil divined the truth instantly.
"They're going to break up our parade!" he cried.  "That's what
they are hoping to do.  Drive on!  I'm going to get out and run
back to tell the parade manager.  They'll do us a lot of damage."
Phil leaped from the carriage and ran down the street, his coat
wide open showing his pink riding shirt beneath it.
"Where's the parade manager?" he cried.
"Gone to the lot.  Boss sent him back."
Phil groaned.  Something must be done and done quickly.
The rival parade must be nearing their street by this time.
A thought occurred to him.  Phil dashed for the elephant herd.
"Mr. Kennedy!"
"Sully's show is going to run into us at that corner there."
"They don't dare!"
"They do and they will.  Swing your elephants out of line and
throw them across that intersecting street.  I'll bet they won't
get by our bulls in a hurry."
"Great!  Great, kid!  I'd never thought of that."
"You'll have to hurry.  The other fellows are almost here and
their elephants are leading the parade.  Sully's just looking
for trouble!"
The voice of the elephant trainer uttered a series of
shrill commands that sounded like so many explosions.
The elephants understood.  They swung quickly out of
line and went lumbering down the street.
"Hey, there, that you, Phil?"
It was Teddy on old Emperor's back in the same frog costume that
he had worn for that purpose the first season with the show.
"Yes, what's left of me," answered Phil, running fast to keep up
with the swiftly moving elephants.
Just before reaching the intersecting street he managed to get
ahead of Kennedy and his charges.
"Hurry, hurry!  They're right here," howled the Circus Boy.
The trainer, with prod and voice, urged the elephants into even
quicker action than before.  Two minutes later they swung across
the street down which the rival parade was coming, and, at the
command of their keeper, the huge animals turned, facing the
other body of paraders.
"We're just in time!  There they are!" cried Phil excitedly.
"I should say so.  They were going to do what you said they
would, the scoundrels!"
"Can you hold them till our people get by, do you think?"
"Can I hold them?  I can hold them till all the mill ponds in
Canada freeze up!" exploded the elephant trainer.
Phil walked forward to meet the Sully parade.  The owner of that
show was well up toward the front of the line on horseback.
"You'll have to wait till our line gets by, sir," announced Phil,
with a suggestive grin.  "We've got your little game blocked,
Sully fairly hurled the word at the disreputable looking
"Yes; you see I got away.  Are you going to stop?"
"No, not for any outfit that James Sparling runs.  Where is he?
Afraid to come out and show himself, eh?  Sends a runaway kid out
to speak for him.  Get out of the way, or I'll run you down!"
Phil's eyes snapped.
"You had better not try it, if you know what's good for you!"
"Move on!  Break through their line!" commanded Sully.
Phil turned and waved his hand.
"They are going to try to break through, Mr. Kennedy," he called.
Kennedy uttered several quick commands.  The Sully elephants
swung down toward him, their trunks raised high in the air.
The leader, a big tusker, uttered a shrill cry.
It was the elephants' battle cry, but Phil did not know it.
Kennedy did.
For the first time, thus far, the Sparling herd of elephants
began to show signs of excitement.  Their trainer quieted them
somewhat with soothing words here, a sharp command there, and
occasionally a prod of the hook.
All at once the leading tusker of the Sully herd lunged straight
at old Emperor.  In another instant nearly every elephant in each
herd had chosen an opponent and the battle was on in earnest.
Trumpetings, loud shrieks of rage and mighty coughs made the more
timid of the people flee to places of greater safety.
As the crash of the meeting elephants came, Phil ran back to the
street where his own parade was standing.
"Move on!" he shouted.  "Follow your route without the elephants.
And you, bandmaster, keep your men playing.  When you have gone
by, we will give the other show a chance to go on if there's
enough left of them to do so."
Realizing that Phil had given them sensible advice, the Sparling
show moved on with band playing and colors waving, but above the
uproar could be heard the thunder of the fighting elephants.
Two of the rival show's elephants had been tumbled into a ditch
by the roadside.  Then Kennedy had a lively few minutes to keep
his own animals from following and putting an end to the enemies
they had tumbled over.
The tusks of the two big elephants, when they met, sounded like
the report of a pistol.  Such sledge hammer blows as these two
monsters dealt each other made the spectators of the remarkable
battle gasp.
All at once they saw something else that made them stare
On the back of Emperor, lying prone was stretched a
strange figure.  From it they saw the head of a boy emerge.
Slowly the frog costume that he had worn, slipped from him
and dropped to the ground.
"Teddy!" shouted Phil.  "He'll be killed!"
"W-o-w!" howled Teddy Tucker, who had been so frightened in the
beginning that he could not get down, and now he could not if
"Let go and jump off!  I'll catch you!" shouted Phil.
"I--I can't."
"Mr. Kennedy, can't you get him off?"
But the trainer had his hands more than full keeping his charges
in line, for at all hazards they must not be allowed to get away
from him, as in their present excited state there was no telling
what harm they might do.
The Sparling people suddenly uttered a great shout.  Emperor was
slowly forcing his antagonist backward, the Sully elephant
gradually giving ground before the mighty onslaught of
old Emperor.  Seeing their leader weakening, the other elephants
also began retreating until the line was slowly forced back
against Sully's line of march.  The owner was riding up and down
in a frightful rage, alternately urging his trainer to rally his
elephants, and hurling threats at Phil Forrest and the
organization he represented.
"Had we better not call our bulls off, Mr. Kennedy?"
shouted Phil.  "Our parade has gone by this time."
"Yes, if I can.  I don't know whether I can stop them now
"You get the others away.  I'll try to take care of Emperor
and Jupiter.  Emperor will give in shortly, after he knows
the other elephant is whipped."
"He won't give in till he kills him," answered Kennedy.
"Better look out.  He's blind, crazy mad."
"I'm not afraid of him.  Hang on now, Teddy.  We will have you
out of your difficulty in a few minutes."
Teddy had been hanging on desperately, his eyes large
and staring.  Every time the long trunk of Sully's big tusker was
raised in the air, Teddy thought it was being aimed at his head
and shrank closer to Emperor's back.  But the tusker probably
never saw Teddy at all.  He was too busy protecting himself from
old Emperor's vicious thrusts.
At last the tusker began to retreat in earnest.  First he would
turn, running back a few rods; then he would whirl to give a
moment's battle to Emperor.
Emperor was following him doggedly.
Phil decided that it was time to act.  He rushed up to Emperor's
head during one of these lulls and called commandingly.
Emperor, with a sweep of his trunk, hurled Phil Forrest to the
side of the street.  But Phil, though shaken up a bit, was not
harmed in the least.
He was up and at his huge friend almost at once.
"Emperor!  Emperor!" he shouted, getting nearer and nearer to the
head of the enraged beast.
Finally Phil stepped up boldly and threw both arms about
Emperor's trunk.
"Steady, steady, Emperor!" he commanded.
This time the elephant did not hurl Phil away.  Instead, he
stopped hesitatingly, evidently not certain whether he
should plunge on after his enemy or obey the command of his
little friend.
Phil tucked the trunk under his arm confidently.
"That's a good fellow!  Come along now, and we'll have a whole
bag of peanuts when we get back to the lot."
The elephant coughed understandingly, it seemed.  At least he
turned about, though with evident reluctance, and meekly followed
the Circus Boy, his trunk still tucked under the latter's arm.
The Sully elephants had been whipped and driven off, though none
had been very seriously injured.  Some fences had been knocked
over and a number of people nearly frightened to death--but that
was all.  Phil had saved the day for his employer's show and had
come out victorious.
The Circus Boy was in high glee as he led Emperor back toward
the lot, where the parade was drawing in by the time he
reached there.
Teddy, on the big elephant's head, was waving his arms excitedly.
"We licked 'em!  We licked 'em!" he howled, as he caught sight of
Mr. Sparling hurrying toward them.
CHAPTER XVII
MONKEYS IN THE AIR
As the result of that victory, the Sparling shows did a great
business in Corinto.  The owner, considering that his rival had
been severely enough punished, made no further effort to have him
brought to justice, though Phil could hardly restrain him from
making Sully suffer for the indignities he had heaped on
young Forrest.
Phil found his money that day when he removed his ring shirt.
The string that had fastened his money bag about his neck had
parted, letting the bag drop.  This money he handed to
Mr. Sparling as rightfully belonging to him.
Of course the showman refused it, and wanted to make Phil a
present besides, for the great service he had rendered.  As it
chanced, one of Mr. Sparling's own staff was attending the Sully
show when Phil made his escape, and much of the latter's
discomfort might have been prevented had he only been aware
of that fact.
Teddy assumed the full credit for the victory of old Emperor,
and no one took the trouble to argue the question with him.
Soon after these exciting incidents the Sparling shows left
Canada behind and crossed the Niagara River.  It was with a
long drawn sigh of relief that they set eyes on the Stars and
Stripes again.
After showing at the Falls, the outfit headed southwest.
The season was getting late, the cotton crop in the south was
going to market, and it was time for all well managed shows whose
route lay that way to get into Dixie Land.  The Circus Boys, too,
were anxious to tour the sunny south again.  This time they were
going to follow a route they had never been over before,
something that was still a matter of great interest to the boys.
Mr. Sparling upon learning that there was a traitor in his
camp who was supplying secret information to the Sully show as
to the route of the Sparling circus, had at once set a watch
for the offender.  It was not long before the traitor was
caught red-handed.  He was, of course, dismissed immediately,
despised by all who knew what he had been doing.
No more had been seen of the Sully Hippodrome Circus after the
meeting of the two organizations in Corinto, though that crowd
had been heard of occasionally as hovering on the flanks of the
Sparling shows.
"I don't care where they go," said Mr. Sparling, "so long as they
don't get in the same county with me.  I am liable to lose my
temper if they get that near to me again, and then something will
happen for sure."
The Sparling show got into the real southland when it made
Memphis, Tennessee, on October first, a beautiful balmy southern
fall day.  All season Phil had been keeping up his practice on
the trapeze bar, until he had become a really fine performer.
He had never performed in public, however, and hardly thought he
would have a chance to do so that season.  He hoped not, if it
were to be at some other performer's expense, as had usually
been the case.
"When somebody gets hurt it's Phillip who takes his place," said
the lad to himself.
"Which means that you are always on the job," replied
Mr. Sparling who had chanced to overhear the remark.  No serious
accidents had occurred in sometime, however, and it was hoped by
everyone that none would.  Accidents, while they are accepted by
show people in the most matter-of-fact way, always cast a gloom
over the show.  Even the loss of a horse will make the
sympathetic showman sad.
After a splendid business in Memphis the show ran into
Mississippi where it played a one day stand at Clarksdale, and
where the showmen experienced the liveliest time they had had
since they met the Sully organization in Canada.
The afternoon performance had just come to an end, and the people
were getting ready to leave their seats under the big top, when a
great commotion was heard under the menagerie top.
Most of the performers were in the dressing tent, changing their
dress for supper, but a roar from the audience, followed by
shouts of laughter, attracted their attention sharply, and as
soon as they could clothe themselves sufficiently, the performers
rushed out into the ring again.
Suddenly the people, upon looking toward the menagerie tent,
saw a troop of diminutive animals sweeping into the big top.
At first the people did not recognize them.
"They're monkeys!" shouted someone.  "They're going to give us a
monkey show."
"No.  The beasts have gotten out of their cage,"
answered another.
He was right.  A careless attendant had hooked the padlock of the
monkey cage in the staple, but had not locked it.  An observant
simian had noticed this, but did not make use of his knowledge
until the keeper had gone away.
Peering out to make sure that no one was looking, the monkey
reached out its hand and deftly slipped the padlock from
The rest was easy.  A bound against the cage door left the way
open, and the hundred monkeys in the cage, big and little were
not slow to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered.
Chattering wildly, they poured from the wagon like a
small cataract.  A moment later the attendants discovered them
and gave chase.  At about the same time the monkeys discovered
that something was going on under the big top.  Being curious
little beasts, they concluded to investigate.  Then, too, the
attendants were pressing pretty close to them, so the whole herd
bolted into the circus tent with a shouting crowd of circus men
The yells of the audience, added to those of the attendants, sent
the nimble little fellows scurrying up ropes, center and quarter
poles, all the time keeping up their merry chatter, for freedom
was a thing they had not enjoyed since they had been captured in
their jungle homes.
Some of the ring men tried to shake the monkeys down from the
poles, just as they would shake an apple tree to get the fruit.
But the little fellows were not thus easily dislodged.
The attempt served only to send them higher up.  They seemed
to be everywhere over the heads of the people.
Finally, having thoroughly investigated the top of the tent,
several of the larger simians decided to take a closer look at
the audience.  At the moment the audience did not know of this
plan, or they might have taken measures to protect themselves.
The first intimation they had of the plans of the mischievous
monkeys, was when a woman uttered a piercing shriek, startling
everyone in the tent.
"What is it?" shouted someone.
"Oh, my hat!  My hat!" she cried after discovering what had
happened to her.
The eyes of the audience wandered from her up to where a monkey
was dangling by its tail far above their heads.  The animal had
in its hands a flower-covered hat, so large that when the monkey
tried to put it on, it almost entirely concealed his body.
So suddenly had the hat been torn from the head of the owner
that hatpins were broken short off while the little thief
"shinned" a rope with his prize.
Failing to make the hat fit, Mr. Monkey began pulling the flowers
out; then picking them to pieces, he showered the particles down
over the heads of the audience.
This was great sport for the monkey, but no fun at all for the
owner of the hat.  The woman hurried from her seat, red-faced
and humiliated.  Phil Forrest had chanced to be a witness to
the act.  He stepped forward as she descended to the concourse
and touched his hat.
"Was the hat a valuable one, madam?" he asked.
"I am sorry.  If you will come with me to the office of the
manager I am quite sure he will make good your loss."
"Do you belong to the circus, sir?"
The woman gladly accompanied him to Mr. Sparling, and there was
made happy by having the price of her ruined hat handed over to
her without a word of objection.
In the meantime trouble had been multiplying at a very rapid rate
under the big top.  Everyone was shouting, attendants were
yelling orders to each other, and now Mr. Sparling, hurrying in,
added his voice to the din.
Hats in all parts of the tent seemed to fly toward the roof
almost magically, to come tumbling down a few minutes later
hopeless wrecks.
Once the monkeys got a tall silk hat.  This they used for an
aerial football, tossing it to each other as they leaped from
rope to rope at their dizzy height.
One monkey was discovered peering down at a certain point in
the audience with an almost fascinated gaze.  Something down
there attracted him.  Cautiously the little fellow let himself
down a rope to the side wall, then, unnoticed by the people,
crept down through the aisle.  Slowly one black little hand
reached up and jerked from the head of an old gentleman a pair
of gold spectacles.
The man uttered a yell as he felt the spectacles being torn from
him, and made a frantic effort to save them.  But the glasses, in
the hands of the monkey, were already halfway up the aisle and a
moment more the monkey was twisting the bows into hard knots and
hurling pieces of glass at the spectators.
"Catch them!  Catch them!" shouted Mr. Sparling.
"How, how?" answered a showman.
"Somebody--"
"I'll go up and get them," spoke up Teddy Tucker.  Teddy simply
could not keep out of trouble.  He was sure to be in the thick of
it whenever a disturbance was abroad.
"That's a good plan.  How are you going to do it?"
"I'll show you.  I'll shake 'em down if you will catch them when
they reach the ring."
"Yes, but be careful that you don't fall."
"Don't you worry about me!"
Teddy untied a rope from a quarter pole, straightened it out
and throwing off his coat and hat, began going up the rope hand
over hand.  The monkeys peered down curiously from their perches,
chattering and discussing the little figure that was on its way
up to join them.
Teddy reached the platform of the trapeze performers.  From there
he climbed a short rope that led to a smaller trapeze bar higher
up, thence to the aerial bars, where the whole bunch of monkeys
were sitting, scolding loudly.
"Shoo!" said Teddy.  "Get out of here!  Better get a net and
catch them down there," shouted Teddy, standing up on the bars
without apparent thought of his own danger.
"Look out that we don't have to catch you!" called
Mr. Sparling warningly.
Teddy picked his way gingerly across the bars shooing the monkeys
ahead of him, now holding to a guide rope so that he might not by
any chance slip through and drop to the ring forty feet below
him, and all the while waving his free hand to frighten
the monkeys.
A few of them leaped to a rope some eight or ten feet away, down
which they went to the ring and up another set of ropes before
the show people below could catch them.
While Teddy was thus engaged, the whole troop of monkeys swung
back on the under side of the aerial bars beneath his feet.
"Shoo!  Shoo!" he shouted.  "You rascals, I'll fix you when I get
hold of you, and don't you forget that for a minute."
He turned, cautiously making his way back, when the lively,
mischievous little fellows shinned up the rope by which he had
let himself down to the serial bars.
"I'll drive you all over the top of this tent, but I'll get you,"
Teddy cried.
Down below the audience was shouting and jeering.  The people
refused to leave the tent so long as such an exhibition was
going on.  No one paid the least attention to the "grand concert"
that was in progress at one end of the big top, so interested
were all in the Circus Boy's giddy chase.
"I'm afraid he will fall and kill himself," groaned Mr. Sparling.
"You can't hurt Teddy," laughed Phil.  "He can go almost anywhere
that a monkey could climb.  But he'll never get them." Phil was
laughing with the others, for the sight was really a funny one.
"Oh, look what they've done!" exclaimed one of the performers.
"They've pulled up the rope," said Mr. Sparling hopelessly.
"Now he certainly is in a fix," laughed Phil.
The monkeys, after shinning the rope, had mischievously hauled it
up after them, acting with almost human intelligence.  One of
them carried the free end of it off to one side and dropped it
over a guy rope.  This left Tucker high and dry on the aerial
bars with no means at hand to enable him to get back to earth.
The audience caught the significance of it and howled lustily.
"Now, I should like to know how you are going to get down?"
shouted Mr. Sparling.
Teddy looked about him questioningly, and off at the grinning
monkeys, that perched on rope and trapeze, appeared to be
enjoying his discomfiture to the full.
"I--I guess I'll have to do the world's record high dive!"
he called down.  There seemed no other way out of it.
CHAPTER XVIII
TEDDY TAXES A DROP
"Throw him a rope!" shouted someone.
"Yes, give him a rope," urged Mr. Sparling.
"No one can throw a rope that high," answered Phil.  "I think the
first thing to be done is to get the monkeys and I have a plan by
which to accomplish it."
"What's your plan?"
"Have their cage brought in.  We should have thought of
that before."
"That's a good idea," nodded Mr. Sparling.  "I always have said
you had more head than any of the others of this outfit, not
excepting myself.  Get the monkey cage in here."
While this was being done Phil hurried out into the menagerie
tent, where, at a snack stand, he filled his pockets with peanuts
and candy; then strolled back, awaiting the arrival of the cage.
"We shall be able to capture our monkeys much more easily if the
audience will please leave the tent," announced Mr. Sparling.
"The show is over.  There will be nothing more to see."
The spectators thought differently.  There was considerable to be
seen yet.  No one made a move to leave, and the manager gave up
trying to make them, not caring to attempt driving the people out
The cage finally was drawn up between the two rings.
This instantly attracted the attention of the little beasts.
Phil stood off from the cage a few feet.
"Now everybody keep away, so the monkeys can see me,"
he directed.  Phil then began chirping in a peculiar way, giving
a very good imitation of the monkey call for food.  At the same
time he began slowly tossing candy and peanuts into the cage.
There was instant commotion aloft.  Such a chattering and
scurrying occurred up there as to cause the spectators to gaze in
open-mouthed wonder.  But still Phil kept up his weird chirping,
continuing to toss peanuts and candy into the cage.
"As I live, they are coming down," breathed Mr. Sparling in
amazement, "never saw anything like it in my life!"
"I always told you that boy should have been a menagerie man
instead of a ring performer," nodded Mr. Kennedy, the
elephant trainer.
"He is everything at the same time," answered Mr. Sparling.
"It is a question as to whether or not he does one thing better
than another.  There they come.  Everybody stand back.  I hope
the people keep quiet until he gets through there.  I am afraid
the monkeys never will go back into the cage, though."
There was no hesitancy on the part of the monkeys.  They began
leaping from rope to rope, swinging by their tails to facilitate
their descent, until finally the whole troop leaped to the top of
the cage and swung themselves down the bars to the ground.
Phil lowered his voice to a low, insistent chirp.  One monkey
leaped into the cage, the others following as fast as they could
stretch up their hands and grab the tail board of the wagon.
Instantly they began scrambling for the nuts and candies that lay
strewn over the floor.
The last one was inside.  Phil sprang to the rear of the cage
and slammed the door shut, throwing the padlock in place and
snapping it.
"There are your old monkeys," he cried, turning to Mr. Sparling
with flushed, triumphant face.
The audience broke out into a roar, shouting, howling and
stamping on the seats at the same time.
"Now, you may go," shouted Mr. Sparling to the audience.
"Phil, you are a wonder.  I take off my hat to you," and the
showman, suiting the action to the word, made a sweeping bow
to the little Circus Boy.
Still the audience remained.
"Well, why don't you go?"
"What about the kid up there near the top of the house?"
questioned a voice in the audience.
"That's so.  I had forgotten all about him," admitted the owner
of the show.
"Oh, never mind me.  I'm only a human being," jeered Tucker, from
his perch far up near the top of the tent.  This brought a roar
of laughter from everybody.
"We shall have to try to cast a rope up to him."
"You can't do it," answered Phil firmly.  Nevertheless the effort
was made, Teddy watching the attempts with lazy interest.
"No, we shan't be able to reach him that way," agreed Mr.
Sparling finally.
"Hey down there," called Teddy.
"Well, what is it?  Got something to suggest?"
"Maybe--maybe if you'd throw some peanuts and candy in my cage I
might come down."
This brought a howl of laughter.
"I don't see how we are going to make it," said Mr. Sparling,
shaking his head hopelessly.
"I'll tell you how we can do it," said Phil.
"Yes; I was waiting for you to make a suggestion.  I thought it
funny if you didn't have some plan in that young head of yours.
What is it?"
"What's the matter with the balloon?"
"The balloon?"
"Hurrah!  That's the very thing."
The balloon was a new act in the Sparling show that season.
A huge balloon had been rigged, but in place of the usual basket,
was a broad platform.  Onto this, as the closing act of the show,
a woman rode a horse, then the balloon was allowed to rise slowly
to the very dome of the big tent, carrying the rider and horse
The act was a decided novelty, and was almost as great a hit as
had been the somersaulting automobile of a season before.
The balloon stood swaying easily at its anchorage.
"Give a hand here, men.  Let the bag up and the boy can get on
the platform, after which you can pull him down."
"That won't do," spoke up Phil.  "He can't reach the platform.
Someone will have to go up and toss him a rope.  He can make the
rope fast and slide down it."
"I guess you are right, at that.  Who will go up?"
"I will," answered the Circus Boy.  "Give me that coil of rope."
Taking his place on the platform the lad rose slowly toward the
top of the tent as the men paid out the anchor rope.
"Halt!" shouted Phil when he found himself directly opposite
his companion.
"Think you can catch it, Teddy?"
"Well, here goes."
The rope shot over Teddy's head, landing in his outstretched arm.
"Be sure you make it good and fast before you try to shin down
it," warned Phil.
"I'll take care of that.  Don't you worry.  You might toss me a
peanut while I'm getting ready.  I'll go in my cage quicker."
Phil laughingly threw a handful toward his companion, three or
four of which Teddy caught, some in his mouth and some in his
free hand, to the great amusement of the spectators.
"They ought to pay an admission for that," grinned Phil.
"For seeing the animals perform.  You are the funniest animal
in the show at the present minute."
"Well, I like that!  How about yourself?" peered Teddy with
well-feigned indignation.
"I guess I must be next as an attraction," laughed the boy.
"I guess, yes."
"Haul away," called Phil to the men below him, and they started
to pull the balloon down toward the ground again.
"Get a net under Tucker there," directed Mr. Sparling.
"I'm not going to dive.  What do you think?" retorted Teddy.
"There is no telling what you may or may not do," answered
the showman.  "It is the unexpected that always happens
Phil nodded his approval of the statement.
In the meantime Teddy had made fast the end of the rope to the
aerial bar, and grasping the rope firmly in his hands, began
letting himself down hand under hand.
"Better twist your legs about the rope," called Phil.
"No.  It isn't neces--"
Just then Teddy uttered a howl.  The rope, which he had not
properly secured, suddenly slipped from the bar overhead.
Teddy dropped like a shot.
THE CIRCUS ON AN ISLAND
Teddy landed in the net with a smack that made the
spectators gasp.
"Are you hurt," cried Mr. Sparling, running forward.
Teddy got up, rubbing his shins gingerly, working his head from
side to side to make sure that his neck was properly in place.
"N-n-no, I guess not.  I'll bet that net got a clump that it
won't forget in a hurry, though.  Folks, the show is all over.
You may go home now," added Teddy, turning to the audience and
waving his hand to them.
The seats began to rattle as the people, realizing that there was
nothing more to be seen, finally decided to start for home.
"It is lucky, young man, that I had that net under you,"
announced Mr. Sparling.
"Lucky for me, but a sad blow to the net," answered Teddy
humorously, whereat Mr. Sparling shook his head hopelessly.
The tent was beginning to darken and the showman glanced
up apprehensively.
"What's the outlook?" he asked as Mr. Kennedy passed.
"Just a shower, I guess."
The owner strode to the side wall and peered out under the tent,
then crawled out for a survey of the skies.
"We are in for a lively storm," he declared.  "It may not break
until late tonight, and I hardly think it will before then.
Please tell the director to cut short all the acts tonight.
I want every stick and stitch off the lot no later than eleven
o'clock tonight."
"Shall we cut out the Grand Entry?"
"Yes, by all means.  If possible I should like to make the next
town before the storm breaks, as it's liable to be a long,
"I don't care.  I've got a rubber coat and a pair of rubber boots
with a hole in one of them," spoke up Teddy.
"And, Teddy Tucker," added the owner, turning to the Circus Boy.
"If you mix things up tonight, and delay us a minute anywhere,
I'll fire you.  Understand?"
Teddy shook his head.
"You don't?  Well, I'll see if I can make it plainer then."
"Why, Mr. Sparling, you wouldn't discharge me, now, would you?
Don't you know this show couldn't get along without me?"
The showman gazed sternly at Teddy for a moment, then his face
broke out in a broad smile.
"I guess you're right at that, my boy."
The cook tent came down without delay that afternoon, and on
account of the darkness the gasoline lamps had to be lighted
a full two hours earlier than usual.
The show at the evening performance was pushed forward with a
rush, while many anxious eyes were upon the skies, for it was
believed that the heaviest rainstorm in years was about to fall.
By dint of much hard work, together with a great deal of shouting
and racket, the tents were off the field by the time indicated by
Mr. Sparling, and loaded.  A quick start was made.  Long before
morning the little border town of Tarbert, their next stand,
was reached.
Mr. Sparling had all hands out at once.
"Get to the lot and pitch your tents.  Everything has got to be
up before daylight," he ordered.  "You'll have something to eat
just as soon as you get the cook tent in place."
That was inducement enough to make the men work with a will,
and they did.  The menagerie and circus tents had been laced
together, lying flat on the ground, when the storm broke.
"That will keep the lot dry, but hustle it!  Get the canvas up
before it is so soaked you can't raise it," commanded the owner.
By daylight the tents were in place, though men had to be
stationed constantly at the guy ropes to loosen them as they
strained tight from the moisture they absorbed.
The rain seemed to be coming down in sheets.  Fortunately the lot
chosen for pitching the tents was on a strip of ground higher
than anything about it, so the footing remained fairly solid.
But it was a cheerless outlook.  The performers, with their
rubber boots on, came splashing through a sea of mud and water
on their way to the cook tent that morning, Phil and Teddy with
"Looks like rain, doesn't it," greeted Teddy, as he espied
Mr. Sparling plodding about with a keen eye to the safety of
"I wish the outlook for business today were as good," was the
comprehensive answer.
When the hour for starting the parade arrived, the water over the
flats about them was so deep and the mud so soft that it was
decided to abandon the parade for that day.
"I almost wish we hadn't unloaded," said the owner.  "It looks
to me as if we might be tied up here for sometime."
"Yes," agreed Phil.  "The next question is how are the people
going to get here to see the show?"
"I was thinking of that myself.  The answer is easy, though."
"They won't come."
"Why?  Are they drowned out?"
"No; the town is high enough so they will not suffer much of any
damage, except as the water gets into their cellars.  No; they
are all right.  I wish we were as much so, but there'll be no use
in giving a show this afternoon."
"Wait a minute," spoke up Phil, raising one hand while he
considered briefly.
"Of course, you have an idea.  It wouldn't be you if you hadn't.
But I am afraid that, this time, you will fall short of
"No, not if you will let me carry out a little plan."
"What is it?"
"When I came over I noticed a strip of ground just a few rods to
the north of the lot, and running right into it, that was higher
than the flats.  It was a sort of ridge and fairly level on top."
"I didn't see that."
"I did.  It was showing above the water a few inches and looked
like hard ground.  If you don't mind getting wet I'll take you
over and point it out."
The showman agreed, though as yet he did not understand what
Phil's plan was.
Phil led the way to the north side of the lot, then turning
sharply to the left after getting his bearings, walked
confidently out into the water followed by Mr. Sparling.
The ground felt firm beneath their feet.  As a matter of fact it
was a stratum of rock running out from the nearby mountains.
"Boy, you've struck a way for us to get out when time comes for
us to do so.  That mud on the flats will be so soft, for several
days, that the wheels would sink in up to the hubs.  The stock
would get mired now, were they to try to go through."
"But not here."
"No; I rather think that's so.  What's your plan?"
"We have plenty of wagons that are not in use--take for instance
the pole wagons.  Why not send our wagons over to the village
and bring the people here?  I am sure they will enjoy that,"
suggested Phil.
"Splendid," glowed the showman.  "But I'm afraid the horses never
would be able to pull them over."
"Think not?"
"I said I was afraid they would not be able to."
"I had considered that, sir."
"Oh, you had?"
"Of course, I might have known you had.  Well, what is it?"
"I have an even better scheme, and it will be great advertising--
one that few people in town will be able to resist."
"Yes?  I am listening."
"Well, in the first place, have the long pole wagons fixed up to
bring the people over.  We can use our ring platforms to make a
bottom for the passengers to sit on."
"Yes, that will be easy."
"Then, take some side wall poles, stand them up along the sides
of the wagon and build a roof with canvas.  That will keep the
inside of the wagon as dry as a barn."
"A splendid idea.  But how are you going to get the folks over
here after you have done that?"
"Wait, I am coming to that.  What do you say to hitching the
elephants to the wagons and hauling the people back and forth?
Nothing like that has ever been done, has it?"
Mr. Sparling tossed up his hat regardless of the fact that the
rain was beating down on his head and running down his neck.
"Nothing ever been done to compare with it, since P. T. Barnum
ploughed up his farm with Jumbo.  By the great Dan Rice, that's
a scheme!" shouted Mr. Sparling enthusiastically.
"But you will have to hurry if you are going to put the plan into
operation," urged Phil.
"What would you suggest, Phil?"
"I would suggest that you send men into town on horseback, right
away, having them call at every house, at the post office, the
hotel and every other place they can think of, telling the people
what we propose to do.  Teddy and I will take horses and go out
with the rest, if you say so.  The rain won't hurt us, and
besides, it will be great fun.  What do you say, sir?"
Mr. Sparling hesitated for one brief second.
"Come on!" he shouted as with hat in hand he splashed toward the
lot followed a short distance behind by Phil.
The arrangements suggested by the Circus Boy were quickly made,
and a company of horsemen rode over to the village to tell the
people how they might see the show without getting wet.
While this was being done the pole wagons were being rigged
for the purpose, and the elephants were provided with harness
strong enough to stand the strain of the heavy loads they would
have to draw.
The wagons were to be driven along the village streets at one
o'clock, the circus to begin at half-past two.  That would give
the show people plenty of time to prepare for the performance.
The suggestion met with great enthusiasm.  Few people had ever
had the privilege of riding behind an elephant team, and they
gladly welcomed the opportunity.
At Phil's further suggestion a separate wagon had been prepared
for the colored people.  When all was ready the elephants were
first driven across the ridge without their wagons, to show the
animals that the footing was safe.  Then they were hooked to the
covered pole wagons and the work of transporting the village to
the lot was begun.
The show grounds were on an island, now, entirely surrounded
by water.  Some of the clowns had rigged up fishing outfits
and sat on the bank in the rain trying to catch fish, though
there probably was not a fish within a mile of them, according
to Phil's idea.
"That's good work for a fool," gloated Teddy.
"It takes a wise man to be a fool, young man," was the
clown's retort.
"Perhaps you don't know that the river has overflowed a few miles
above here, and that this place is full of fish?"
"No; I don't know anything of the sort.  The only water I see
coming is from right overhead.  Maybe there's fish swimming
around up there; I don't know.  Never caught any up
there myself."
After a time the clowns tired of their sport and went back to
their dressing tent to prepare for the afternoon performance, the
only performance that would be given that day, as it would not be
safe to try to transport the people across the water in the dark.
And, besides, the owner of the show hoped to be able to get his
show aboard the cars before night.
In the big top a slender rope had been stretched across the
blue seats from the arena back to the sidewall.  This was the
"color line."  On one side of it sat the colored people, on the
other the white people.
After all were seated, however, the line was taken down and
colored and white people sat elbow to elbow.  All were perfectly
satisfied, for the color line had been drawn.  The rest did
The show people entered into the spirit of the unusual exhibition
with the keenest zest, and the Sparling show had never given a
better entertainment than it did that afternoon.  The clowns,
even though they had not been successful as fishermen, where
wholly so when they entered the ring.  Teddy and his donkey,
which he had named January, after the manner of most clowns who
own these animals, set the whole tent roaring, while Shivers and
his "shadow" made a hit from the moment they entered.
"I've got the greatest bunch of people to be found in
this country," confided Mr. Sparling proudly to the surgeon.
"Especially those two boys, eh?"
"Yes.  They can't be beaten.  Neither can a lot of the others."
A fair-sized house had been brought over to see the show, and
after the performance was ended they were taken back to their
homes in the pole wagons, as they had been brought over.
"I'll tell you what you ought to do," said Teddy confidentially,
just before the show closed.
"Well, what is it?" questioned Mr. Sparling.
"You ought to leave those folks here."
"Leave them here?"
"Why, they couldn't get back, and they would have to go to the
evening performance again.  You'd get 'em going and coming then.
Do you see?"
The showman tipped back his head, laughing long and loud.
"Yes; I see."
"Then why not do it?"
"Young man, this show doesn't do things that way.  We do business
on the square, or we don't do it at all.  I admire your zeal, but
not your plan."
"Yes," agreed Phil, who stood near; "I sometimes think
Teddy Tucker's moral code does need bolstering up a bit."
"What's that?" questioned Teddy.  "What's a moral code?"
"I'll explain it to you some other time when we are not so busy,"
replied Phil.
"Nor so wet," added Mr. Sparling.  "You see, we want to come to
this town to show again some other time."
"I don't," responded Teddy promptly.  "I've had all I want of it
for the rest of my natural life.  I can get all the fun I want
out of performing on dry ground, instead of the edge of a lake
that you are expecting every minute to tumble into."
DISASTER BEFALLS THE FAT LADY
"Help, help!  Oh, help!"
"Coming," shouted Teddy Tucker, leaping from the platform of the
sleeping car where he had been lounging in the morning sun.
The Fattest Woman on Earth was midway down the steep railroad
embankment with the treacherous cinders slowly giving way beneath
her feet, threatening every second to hurl her to the bottom of
the embankment and into the muddy waters of a swollen stream that
had topped its banks as the result of the storm that had
disturbed the circus so much.
The Sparling shows did not succeed in getting fully away from
the island until the middle of the day following the events
just narrated.
This made it necessary to skip the next stand, so the show ran
past that place, intent on making St. Charles, Louisiana,
sometime that night.
The train had been flagged on account of a washout some distance
ahead, and while it was lying on the main track many of the show
people took the opportunity to drop off and gather flowers out in
the fields near the tracks.
The Fat Woman was one of these.  She had found it a comparatively
easy thing to slide down the bank further up the tracks, after
finding a spot where she could do so without danger of going
right on into the creek below.
But the return journey was a different matter.  She had succeeded
in making her way halfway up the bank when, finding herself
slipping backward she uttered her appeal for help.
"Stick your heels in and hold to it.  I'll be there in a minute,"
shouted Teddy, doing an imitation of shooting the chutes down the
embankment, digging in his own heels just in time to save himself
from a ducking in the stream.
"There goes that Tucker boy, headed for more trouble," nodded
a clown.  "Watch him if you want to see some fun.  Fat Marie is
in trouble already, and she's going to get into more in about
Teddy picked himself up, and, running up behind the Fat Woman,
braced his hands against her ample waist and began to push.
"Start your feet!  Start your feet!  Make motions as if you were
walking!" shouted Teddy.
Marie did not move.
"Oh, help!" she murmured.  "Help, help!"
"Go on.  Go on!  Do you think I can stay in this position all
day, holding up your five hundred pounds?  My feet are slipping
back already.  I'm treading water faster'n a race horse can run
right this minute."
"I guess he's started something for himself all right," jeered
the clown.  "Told you so.  Hey, there goes the whistle!
The train will be starting.  We'd better be making for
the sleeper."
All hands sought a more suitable climbing place, hurried up the
railroad embankment and ran for the train.  A crowd gathered on
the rear platform, where they jeered at Tucker and his burden.
"Come--come down here and help us out," howled Teddy.
"You--you're a nice bunch, to run away when a lady is in trouble!
Come down here, I say."
Just then the train started.
Phil, at that moment, was up forward in Mr. Sparling's car, else
he would have tried to stop the train; or, failing to do that,
he would have gone to his companion's assistance.
By this time Teddy had turned and was bracing his back against
the Fat Woman, his heels digging into the shifting cinders in a
desperate attempt to prevent the woman's slipping further down.
"You'll have to do something.  I'm no Samson.  I can't hold the
world on my back all the time, though I can support a piece of it
part of the time.  Do something!"
"I--I can't," wailed the Fat Woman.  "There goes the train, too.
We'll be left."
"No, we won't."
"Yes, we shall."
"No; we won't be left, 'cause--'cause we're left already.  Wow!
I'm going!  Save yourself!"
The cinders slipped from under Teddy's feet, and, with the heavy
burden bearing down upon him, he was unable to get sufficient
foothold to save himself.
The result was that Teddy sat down suddenly.  Fat Marie sat
down on him, and Teddy's yell might have been heard a long
distance away.  Those on the tail end of the circus train saw the
collapse, then lost sight of the couple as the train rolled
around a bend in the road.
Down the bank slid the Fat Woman, using Tucker as a toboggan,
with the boy yelling lustily.  Faster and faster did they slide.
Suddenly they landed in the muddy stream with a mighty splash,
Teddy still on the bottom of the heap.  When she found herself in
the water Marie struggled to get out, and Teddy quickly scrambled
up, mouth, eyes and ears so full of water that he could neither
see, hear nor speak for a moment.  He was blowing like a porpoise
and trying to swim out, but the swift current was tumbling him
along so rapidly that he found himself unable to reach the bank
only a few feet away.
Marie, screaming for help, floated down rapidly with the current.
When finally Teddy succeeded in getting his eyes open he
discovered that she had lodged against a tree across the stream,
where her cries grew louder and more insistent than ever.
Teddy was swept against her with a bump.  He frantically grabbed
for a limb of the fallen tree.  As he did so his legs were drawn
under it, so that it required all his strength to pull himself up
to the tree trunk.
He sat there rubbing the water out of his eyes and
breathing hard.
"Quick, get me out of here or I'll drown!" moaned the Fat Woman.
"Drown, if you want to.  I've got my own troubles just
this minute.  What did you ever get me into this mix-up for?
That's what I get for trying to be a good thing--"
Marie's screams waxed louder.
"All right.  If you'll only stop that yelling I'll get you on dry
land somehow.  Can't you pull yourself up nearer the bank?"
"No.  My dress is caught on something."
Teddy peered over, and, locating the place where she was caught,
tried to free her.  The lad was unable to do so with one hand,
so, in a thoughtless moment, he brought both hands to the task.
He lost his balance and plunged into the torrent head first, his
body disappearing under the log.  Teddy shot to the surface on
the other side, flat on his back.
The Circus Boy did not shout this time.  He was too angry to
do so.  He turned over and struck out for the bank which he
was fortunate enough to reach.  Quickly clambering up, Teddy
sat down to repeat his process of rubbing the water out of
"Are you going to let me lie here and drown?" cried the
"It looks that way, doesn't it, eh?"
Teddy got up and hurried to her just the same.  Throwing off
his wet coat he set to work with a will to get Marie out.
The water was shallow and she managed to help herself
somewhat, therefore after great effort Teddy succeeded in
towing her to land.  The woman was a sight and Teddy a
close second in this respect.
"I'm drowned," she moaned as he dragged her out on the bank,
letting her drop sharply.
"You only think you are.  I suppose you know what we've got to
do now, don't you?"
"We've got to walk to the next stand."
"How--how far is it?"
"Maybe a hundred miles."
As a matter of fact they were within five miles of St. Charles,
where the Sparling show was billed to exhibit that afternoon
and evening.
"I'm afraid they'll miss you in the parade today, but what do you
think will happen if we don't reach the show in time for the
performance this afternoon?"
"I--I don't know."
"I do.  We'll get fined good and proper."
"It--it's all your fault, Teddy Tucker."
Teddy surveyed her wearily.
"If you'd held me up I shouldn't have fallen in and--and--"
"Drowned," growled Teddy.
"And if you hadn't sat on me I shouldn't have fallen in, and
there you are.  Now, get up and we'll find a place to climb up
the bank.  We can't stay here all day and starve to death.
Come on, now."
"I--I can't."
"All right; then I'll go without you."  Teddy started away,
whereupon the Fat Woman wailed to him to come back, at the same
time struggling to her feet, bedraggled and wet, her hair full of
sand and her clothes torn.
"If they'd only start a beauty show in the side top you would
take first prize," grinned the boy.  "Hurry up."
Marie waddled along with great effort, making slow headway.
"We shall have to go further along before we can get up the bank.
That is, unless you want to take the chance of falling into the
creek again."
It was some distance to the place where the creek curved under
the railroad bed, and they would be obliged to go beyond that if
they expected to get the Fat Woman out without a repetition of
the previous disaster.
After a while they reached the spot for which Teddy had
been heading.
Marie surveyed the bank up which she must climb.
"Can you make it?"
"I--I'll try."
"That's the talk.  Take a running start, but slow up before you
get to the top, or with your headway you'll go right on over the
other side and down that embankment.  You ought to travel with a
net under you, but it would have to be a mighty strong one, or
you'd go through it."
Marie uttered a little hopeless moan and began climbing up
the bank once more, but bracing each foot carefully before
throwing her weight upon it.  Teddy, in the meantime, had run up
to the top where he sat down on the end of a tie watching the
Fat Woman's efforts to get up to him.
"Help, help," mimicked Teddy.
"I can't go any further, unless you come down here and push."
"Push?  No thank you.  I tried that before.  It would take a
steam engine to push you up that bank, because you'd let the
engine do all the pushing.  You wouldn't help yourself at all."
"I'll fall if you don't help me."
"Well, fall then.  You've got a nice soft piece of grass to land
on down there.  I'll tell you what I'll do."
"I'll take hold of your hand if you'll promise to let go the
minute you feel you're going to fall."
"I--I don't want to let go.  I want to hold on if I feel I'm
going to fall," wailed Marie.
"No, you don't.  'United we stand, divided we fall,'" quoted
Teddy solemnly.
"I'll promise; I'll promise anything, if you will come help me."
Teddy rose and slid down the bank to her.
"Give me your hand."
Marie extended a fat hand toward him, which he grasped firmly.
"Now gather all your strength and run for it.  We'll be at the
top before you know it.  Run, run, run!"
The command was accompanied by a jerk on Marie's arm, and
together they started plowing up the bank.
"Here we are.  One more reach, and we'll be on hard ground.
"Help!" screamed Marie.
Both her feet flew out.  One caught Teddy, tripping him and down
they rolled amid a shower of cinders, both landing in a heap at
the foot of the embankment.
"That settles it.  I thought you were going to let go,"
growled Teddy.
"I--I couldn't."
"You mean you didn't.  Now, you can take your choice; go up the
bank alone or stay here.  I suppose I have got to stay here with
you, but I really ought to leave you.  Somehow, I'm not mean
enough to do it, but I want to."
Teddy stretched out on the grass in the bright sunlight to dry
himself, for he was still very wet, while Marie sat down
helplessly and shook out her hair.
They had been there for nearly two hours when the rails above
them began to snap.
"Guess there's a train coming.  Just my luck to have it run off
the track and fall on me about the time it gets here."
The sound told him the train was coming from the direction his
own train had gone sometime before.
"It's a handcar," shouted the lad as a car swung around the bend
and straightened out down the track.
"Oh, help," wailed the Fat Woman.
"Hey, hey!" Teddy shouted.
Someone on the handcar waved a hat and shouted back at him.
"It's Phil, it's Phil!  They're coming for us, Marie,"
cried Teddy.  "Now, you've got to climb that bank unless you want
to stay here and starve to death.  Let me tell you it's me for
the handcar and a square meal."
Phil, hearing of his companion's misfortune, had requested
Mr. Sparling to get him a handcar that he might go in search of
Marie and Teddy.  This had been quickly arranged, and with three
Italian trackmen Phil had set out, he himself taking his turn at
the handle to assist in propelling the car.
"What's happened?" shouted Phil, leaping from the car and running
down the bank, falling the last half of the way and bringing up
in a heap at the feet of Teddy Tucker.
"That's the way we came down, a couple of times," grinned Teddy.
"Marie took a header into the creek and I went along.
Got a rope?"
"Yes, there's one on the handcar.  Why?"
"Marie can't get up the bank.  You'll have to pull her up."
The rope was hurriedly brought, and after being fastened
about her waist, the Italians were ordered to pull, while
Phil and Teddy braced themselves against the Fat Woman's
waist and pushed with all their might.  At last they landed
her, puffing and blowing and murmuring for more help, at
the top of the embankment.  She was quickly assisted to the
handcar, when the return journey was begun.
"Next time you fall off a train, I'll bet you go to the bottom
alone," growled Teddy.  "The show ought to carry a derrick
"Oh, help!" moaned the Fat Woman, gasping for breath as she sat
dangling over the rear end of the handcar.
"We shall miss the parade, I fear," announced Phil consulting
"Well, I don't mind for myself, but I could weep that Fat Marie
has to miss it," answered Teddy soberly.  "I don't like to see
her miss anything that comes her way."
"She doesn't, usually," grinned Phil.
After a long hard pull they succeeded in reaching the next town
with their well loaded handcar.  With the help of Phil and Teddy,
the Fat Lady was led puffing to the circus lot.  The parade had
just returned and the paraders were hurrying to change their
costumes, as the red flag was up on the cook tent.  Mr. Sparling
saw the Circus Boys and their charge approaching, and motioned
them to enter his office tent.
"Where did you find them, Phil?"
"At the bottom of a railroad embankment, about five miles back,
according to the mile posts."
"A couple of fine specimens you are," growled the showman.
"Well, Marie, what have you to say for yourself?"
"I--I fell down the bank."
"Pshaw!  What were you doing on the bank?"
"I got off to pick some flowers when the train stopped, and when
I tried to get back I--I couldn't."
"Don't you know it is against the rules of the show to leave the
train between stations?"
The Fat Lady nodded faintly.
"Discipline must be maintained in this show.  You are fined
five dollars, and the next time such a thing happens I'll
discharge you.  Understand?"
"Help, oh help!" murmured Marie.
Teddy was grinning and chuckling over the Fat Lady's misfortune.
"And, young man, what were you doing off the train?" asked the
showman, turning sternly.
"Me?  Why, I--I went to Marie's rescue."
"You did, eh?"
"I reckon it will cost you five dollars, too."
The grin faded slowly from Teddy's face.
"You--you going to fine me?" he stammered.
"No, I'm not going to.  I already have done so."
"It doesn't pay to be a hero.  A hero always gets the sharp end
of the stick.  But who's going to pay me for the clothes
Mr. Sparling surveyed the boy with the suspicion of a twinkle in
"Well, kid, I reckon I shall have to buy you a new suit, at that.
"Ye--yes, sir," responded the woman.
"Go downtown and see if you can find some new clothes that will
fit you.  If not buy two suits and splice them together."
"Yes, sir; thank you, sir."
"Have the bill sent to me.  Tucker, you do the same.
But remember, discipline must be maintained in this show,"
warned the owner sternly.
ON A FLYING TRAPEZE
The lesson lasted Teddy for a few hours; then he forgot all
about it.  But he was made the butt of the jokes of the dressing
tent for several days.
That afternoon Phil, while attending to some correspondence for
Mr. Sparling, had occasion to write to a trapeze performer about
booking with the Sparling show for the coming season.
"I have been thinking, Mr. Sparling," said Phil, "that I should
like to perform on the flying trapeze next season.  You know I
have been practicing for sometime."
Mr. Sparling glanced up from his papers.
"I'm not surprised.  I guess that's the only thing you haven't
done in the show thus far."
"I haven't been a fat woman or a living skeleton yet,"
laughed Phil.
"What can you do on the bars?"
"I can do all that your performers do.  Sometimes I think I might
be able to do more.  I can do passing leaps, two-and-a-halfs,
birds' nest and all that sort of thing."
"Is it possible?  I had no idea you had gotten that far along."
"Yes.  I have been wishing for a chance to see how I could work
before an audience."
"Haven't you enough to do already?"
"Well, I suppose I have, but you know I want to get along.
The season is nearly closed now, and I shall not have another
opportunity before next spring, possibly.  As long as you are
going to engage some other performers for next year I rather
thought it might be a good plan to offer myself for the work."
"Why, Phil, why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't like to."
"You can have anything in this show that you want.  You know
that, do you not?"
"Yes, sir," answered the Circus Boy in a low tone.  "And I thank
you very much."
"When do you want to go on?"
"Any time you think best.  Would you prefer to have me go through
a rehearsal?"
"Not necessary.  You have been practicing with Mr. Prentice,
the head of the trapeze troupe, haven't you?"
"If you say you are fit, I am willing to take your word for it.
In view of the fact that you already have worked with the aerial
people all you will have to do will be to go on.  I shall enjoy
seeing you do so, if you think you can stand the added work."
"I can do so easily.  When shall I try it?"
"Whenever you wish."
"What do you say to trying it tonight?"
"Certainly; go on tonight, if you want to.  I'll make it a point
to be on hand and watch the act."
"Thank you, very much.  You are more kind to me than I have any
reason to expect."
"No such thing," snapped the showman.  "Send Mr. Prentice to me
and I will give the necessary orders."
Phil, full of pleasurable anticipation, hurried to convey the
good news to Mr. Prentice.  The result was that, instead of four
performers appearing in the great aerial act that evening, there
Phil shinned the rope to the trapeze perch, hand over hand, the
muscles standing out on his arms as he made the ascent, with as
much ease as he would walk to the dressing room, and perhaps even
with less effort.
Phil, with perfect confidence in himself, swung out and back
to give himself the momentum necessary to carry him to where
Mr. Prentice was now hanging head down ready to catch him.
The catcher slapped his palms sharply together, the signal that
on the return flight Phil was to let go and throw himself into
the waiting arms of the other.
In a graceful, curving flight the Circus Boy landed in the iron
grip of Mr. Prentice, and on the return sweep sprang lightly into
the air, deftly catching his own trapeze bar which carried him to
Next he varied his performance by swinging off with his back to
the catcher, being caught about the waist, then thrown back to
meet his trapeze bar.
"He's the most graceful aerial performer I ever saw on a bar,"
declared Mr. Sparling.  "He is a wonder."
The next variation of the act was what is known as a
"passing leap," where, while the catcher is throwing one
performer back to his trapeze bar, a second one is flying
toward the catcher, the two supple bodies passing in the air
headed in opposite directions.  In this case, his opposite
partner was a young woman, the successor to little Zoraya
who had been so severely injured earlier in the season.
"Fine, Phil!" she breathed as they passed each other, and the
Circus Boy's face took on a pleased smile.
"Try a turn next time," said Mr. Prentice, as he threw Phil
lightly into the air toward his trapeze.  "Think you can do it?"
"I can try, at least."
Phil got a wide swing and then at a signal from the catcher, shot
up into the air.  He threw a quick somersault, then stretched out
his hands to be caught.  He was too low down for Mr. Prentice to
reach him and Phil shot toward the net head first.
Though he had lost his bearings during the turn he had not lost
his presence of mind.
"Turn!" shouted a voice from below, the watchful ringmaster
having observed at once that the lad was falling, and that he was
liable to strike on his head in the net with the possible chance
of breaking his neck.
Phil understood, then, exactly what his position was, and, with a
slight upward tilt of his head, brought his body into position so
that he would strike the net on his shoulders.
He hit the net with a smack, bounded high into the air, rounding
off his accident by throwing a somersault on the net, bounding up
and down a few times on his feet.
The audience, quick to appreciate what he had done, gave Phil
a rousing cheer.
He shook his head and began clambering up the rope again.
"What happened to me?" he called across to the catcher.
"You turned too quickly."
"I'll do it right this time."
The band stopped playing, that its silence might emphasize
the act.  Then Phil, measuring his distance with keen eyes,
launched into the air again.  But instead of turning one
somersault he turned two, landing fairly into the outstretched
arms of Mr. Prentice, who gave him a mighty swing, whereat Phil
hurled himself into a mad whirl, performing three more
somersaults before he struck the net.
The audience howled with delight, and Mr. Sparling rushed forward
fairly hugging the Circus Boy in his delight.
"Wonderful!" cried the showman.  "You're a sure-enough star
CHAPTER XXII
IN A LIVELY BLOW-DOWN
>From that moment on, until the close of the season, Phil Forrest
retained his place on the aerial trapeze team, doubling up with
his other work, and putting the finishing touches to what
Mr. Sparling called "a great career on the bars."
But Phil, much as he loved the work, did not propose to spend
all his life performing above the heads of the people.  He felt
that a greater future was before him on the ground at the front
of the house.
Only a week remained now before the show would close for
the season.  Even in Texas, where they were showing, the
nights had begun to grow chilly, stiffening the muscles of
the performers and making them irritable.  All were looking
forward to the day when the tents should be struck for the
last time that season.
"What's the next stand?" asked Phil in the dressing tent a few
nights after his triumphal performance on the trapeze.
"Tucker, Texas," answered a voice.
"What's that?" shouted a clown.
"Tucker, I said."
"Any relation to Teddy Tucker?"
"I hope not," laughed the head clown.
"A place with that name spells trouble.  Anything by the name of
Tucker, whether it's Teddy or not, means that we are in for some
kind of a mix-up.  I wish I could go fishing tomorrow."
All in the dressing tent chuckled at the clown's sally.
"I know what you'd catch if you did," grumbled Teddy.
"Now, what would I catch, young man?" demanded the clown.
"You'd catch cold.  That's all you can catch," retorted Teddy,
whereat the laugh was turned on the clown, much to the
latter's disgust.
Tucker proved to be a pretty little town on the open plain.
There was nothing in the appearance of the place to indicate
that they might look for trouble.  However, as the clown had
prophesied, trouble was awaiting them--trouble of a nature
that the showman dreads from the beginning to the end of the
circus season.
The afternoon performance passed off without a hitch, the tent
being crowded almost to its capacity, Phil Forrest throwing
himself into his work in the air with more spirit and enthusiasm
than he had shown at any time since he took up his new work.
At Mr. Sparling's request, however, the lad had omitted his
triple somersault from the trapeze bar.  The showman considered
the act too dangerous, assuring Phil that sooner or later he
would be sure to break his neck.
Phil laughed at the owner's fears, but promised that he would try
nothing beyond a double after that.  He remembered how quickly he
had lost himself when he attempted the feat before.  Few men are
able to do it without their brains becoming so confused that they
lose all sense of direction and location.
The evening house was almost as large as that of the afternoon,
as usual the audience being made up principally of town people,
the country spectators having returned to their homes
before night.  The night set in dark and oppressive.
Soon after the gasoline lights were lighted the animals began
growling, pacing their cages restlessly, while the lions roared
intermittently, and the hyenas laughed almost hysterically.
It sent a shiver down the backs of nearly everyone who heard it--
the shrill laugh of the hyenas reaching clear back to the
dressing tent.
Teddy Tucker's eyes always grew large when he heard the laugh
of the hyena.
"B-r-r-r!" exclaimed Teddy.
"You'll 'b-r-r-r' worse than that before you get through,"
growled a performer.
" 'Cause it means what somebody said the other night--trouble."
"What kind of trouble does it mean?" asked Phil.
"I don't know.  Some kind of a storm, I guess.  You can't
always tell.  Those animals know more than we human beings,
when it comes to weather and that sort of thing," broke in
Mr. Miaco the head clown.
"Well, you expected something would happen in a town called
Tucker, didn't you?"
"Are you going to be with this show next season, Teddy?"
questioned the clown who had taunted him before.
"I hope to."
"Then I sign out with some other outfit.  I refuse to travel with
a bunch that carries a hoodoo like you with it.  I feel it in my
bones that something is going to happen tonight, and just as soon
as I can get through my act I'm going to run--run, mind you,
not walk--back to the train as fast as my legs will carry me.
That won't be any snail's pace, either."
The performers joked and passed the time away until the band
started the overture, off under the big top.  This means that
it is about time for the show to begin, and that the music is
started to hurry the people to their seats.
All hands fell silent as they got busy putting the finishing
touches to their makeup.
"All acts cut short five minutes tonight," sang the voice of
the ringmaster at the entrance to the dressing tent.
"You see," said the clown, nodding his head at Teddy.
"No, I hear," grumbled Teddy.  "What's it all about?"
"Don't ask me.  I don't know.  I'm not running this show."
"Lucky for the show that you aren't," muttered the Circus Boy.
"What's that?"
"I was just thinking out loud, I guess."
"It's a bad habit.  Don't do it when I'm around.  All hoodoos
talk to themselves and in their sleep."
The show was started off with a rush, the Grand Entry having been
cut out again, as is frequently the case with a show where there
is a long run ahead, or a storm is expected.  That night those in
the dressing tent could only surmise the reason.  The hyena's
warning was the only thing to guide the performers in their
search for a reason for the haste.  But they took the situation
philosophically, as they always had, and prepared for the
performance as usual.
The performance had gotten along well toward the end, and without
the slightest interruption.  All hands were beginning to feel a
certain sense of relief, when the shrill blasts of the boss
canvasman's emergency whistle were heard outside the big top.
Phil had just completed his trapeze act and was dropping into
the net when the whistle sounded.
He glanced up and made a signal to the others in the air.
They dropped, one by one, to the net and swung themselves to
the ground, where they stood awaiting the completion of the
piece that the band was playing.
"Wind, isn't it?" questioned Mr. Prentice.
Phil nodded.
He was listening intently.  His keen ears caught a distant roar
that caused him to gaze apprehensively aloft.
"I am afraid we are going to have trouble," he said.
"It has been in the air all the evening," was the low answer.
"Wonder if they have the menagerie tent out of the way?"
It was being taken down at that moment, the elephants having been
removed to the train, as had part of the cages.
All at once there was a roar that sent the blood from the
faces of the spectators.  The boss canvasman's whistle
trilled excitedly.
"There go the dressing tents," said Phil calmly as a ripping and
rending was heard off by the paddock.  "I hope it hasn't taken
my trunk with it.  Glad I locked the trunk before coming into
The band stopped playing suddenly.  The tent was in
absolute silence.
"It's a cyclone!" shouted a voice among the spectators.
A murmur ran over the assemblage.  In a moment they would be
in a mad rush, trampling each other under foot in their efforts
Phil bounded toward the band.
"Play!  Play!" he shouted.  "They'll stampede if you don't.
Play, I tell you!"
The bandmaster waved his baton and the music of the band drowned
out the mutterings of the storm for the moment.
Suddenly the roaring without grew louder.  Ropes were creaking,
center and quarter poles lifting themselves a few inches from the
ground, dangerously.
"It's blowing end on," muttered Phil, running full speed down the
concourse in his ring costume.
"Keep your seats!" he shouted.  "There may be no danger.  If the
tent should go down you will be safer where you are.  Keep your
seats, everybody."
Phil dashed on, shouting his warning until he had gotten halfway
around the tent.  Mr. Prentice had taken up the lad's cry on the
Then the blow fell.
The big top bent under the sweep of the gale until the center
poles were leaning far over to the north.  Had the wind not
struck the tent on the end it must have gone down under the
first blast.  As it was, canvas, rope and pole were holding,
but every stitch of canvas and every pole was trembling under
"Sit steady, everybody!  We may be able to weather it."
Phil saw that, if the people were to run into the arena and the
tent should fall, many must be crushed under the center and
quarter poles.
Up and down he ran shouting words of encouragement, and he was
thus engaged when Mr. Sparling worked his way in from the pad
room, as the open enclosure between the two dressing tents
is called.  Phil had picked up the ringmaster's whip and was
cracking it to attract the attention of the people to what he
was trying to tell them.
Somehow, many seemed to gain confidence from this plucky, slender
lad clad in silk tights, who was rushing up and down as cool and
collected as if three thousand persons were not in deadly peril.
Nothing but Phil Forrest's coolness saved many from death
A mighty roar suddenly drew every eye in the tent to the
south end where the wind was pressing against the canvas
with increasing force.
Phil stood near the entrance, the flap of which had been quickly
laced and staked down when the canvasmen saw the gale coming
He turned quickly, for the roar had seemed to be almost at
his side.  What he saw drew an exclamation from Phil that,
at other times, might have been humorous.  There was no
humor in it now.
"Gracious!" exclaimed the lad.
There, within twenty feet of him stood a lion, a huge, powerful
beast, with head up, the hair standing straight along its back,
the mane rippling in the breeze.
"It's Wallace," breathed the lad, almost unable to believe
his eyes.  The biggest lion in captivity, somehow in the
excitement had managed to escape from his cage.
"Now there'll be a panic for sure!  They've seen him!"
"Sit still and keep still!  He won't hurt you!" shouted Phil.
"Now, you get out of here!" commanded Phil, starting toward
Wallace and cracking the ringmaster's whip in the animal's face.
Just for the briefest part of a second did Wallace give way, then
with a terrific roar, he bounded clear over the Circus Boy's
head, bowling Phil over as he leaped, and on down to the center
of the arena.
Phil had not been hurt.  He was up and after the dangerous beast
in a twinkling.  The audience saw what he was trying to do.
"Keep away from him!" bellowed Mr. Sparling.
"Throw a net over him!" shouted Phil.
However, between the storm and the escaped lion, none seemed to
have his wits about him sufficiently to know what was best to do.
Had the showmen acted promptly when Phil called, they might have
been able to capture the beast then and there.
Seeing that they were not going to do so, and that the lion was
walking slowly toward the reserved seats, Phil sprang in front of
the dangerous brute to head him off.
The occupants of the reserved seats were standing up.  The panic
might break at any minute.
"Sit down!" came the command, in a stern, boyish voice.
Phil faced the escaped lion, starting toward it with a
threatening motion of the whip.
"Are you ever going to get a net?"
"Get a net!" thundered Mr. Sparling.  "Get away from him, Phil!"
Instead of doing so, the Circus Boy stepped closer to the beast.
No one made the slightest move to capture the beast, as Phil
realized might easily be done now, if only a few had the presence
of mind to attempt it.
The ringmaster's whip in Phil's hands snapped and the leather
lash bit deep into the nose of Wallace.
With a roar that sounded louder than that of the storm outside
the lion took a quick step forward, only to get the lash on his
Suddenly he turned about and in long, curving bounds headed for
the lower end of the tent.  Mr. Sparling sprang to one side,
knowing full well that it would be better to lose the lion than
to stir up the audience more than they already were stirred.
Phil was in full pursuit, cracking his whip at every jump.
Wallace leaped through the open flap at the lower end of the tent
and disappeared in the night.
Just as he did so there came a sound different from anything that
had preceded it.  A series of reports followed one another until
it sounded as if a battery of small cannon were being fired,
together with a ripping and tearing and rending that sent every
spectator in the big tent, to his feet yelling and shouting.
"The tent is coming down!  The tent is coming down!"
Women fainted and men began fighting to get down into the arena.
"Stay where you are!" shouted Phil.  Then the Circus Boy
did a bold act.  Running along in front of the seats he let
drive the lash of his long whip full into the faces of the
struggling people.  The sting of the lash brought many of
them to their senses.  Then they too turned to help hold
the others back.
With a wrench, the center poles were lifted several feet up into
"Look out for the quarter poles!  Keep back or you'll be killed!"
shouted Phil.
"Keep back!  Keep back!" bellowed Mr. Sparling.
And now the quarter poles--the poles that stand leaning toward
the center of the arena, just in front of the lower row of
seats--began to fall, crashing inward, forced to the north.
The center poles snapped like pipe stems, pieces of them being
hurled half the length of the tent.
Down came the canvas, extinguishing the lights and leaving
the place in deep darkness.  The people were fairly beside
themselves with fright.  But still that boyish voice was
heard above the uproar:
"Sit still!  Sit still!"
The whole mass of canvas collapsed and went rolling northward
like a sail suddenly ripped from the yards of a ship.
The last mighty blow of the storm had been more than canvas and
painted poles could stand.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE LION HUNT
For a moment there was silence.  Then the people began shouting.
"Bring lights, men!" thundered the owner of the show.
Being so near the outer edges of the tent, the people had escaped
almost without injury.  Many had been bruised as the canvas swept
over them, knocking them flat and some falling all the way
through between the seats to the ground, where they were in
little danger.
"Wait till the lights come!  Phil!  Phil!"
Phil Forrest did not answer.  He had been knocked clear into
the center of the arena by a falling quarter pole, and stunned.
The Circus Boy's head was pretty hard, however, and no more
than a minute had passed before he was at work digging his way
out of the wreck.
"Thank heaven," muttered the showman.  "I was afraid he had
been killed.  Are you all right?"  Mr. Sparling made his way
in Phil's direction.
"Yes.  How--how many were killed?"
"I hope none," replied Mr. Sparling.  "As soon as the lights are
on and all this stuff hauled out of the way we shall know."
Most of the canvas had been blown from the circus arena proper
so that little was left there save the seats, a portion of the
bandstand, the wrecks of the ruined poles and circus properties,
together with some of the side walls, which still were standing.
By this time the tornado, for such it had developed into, had
passed entirely and the moon came out, shining down into the
darkened circus arena, lighting it up brightly.
About that time torches were brought.  The people had rushed down
from the seats as soon as the big top had blown away.
"I want all who have been injured to wait until I can see them,"
shouted Mr. Sparling.  "Many of you owe your lives to this
young man.  Had you started when the blow came many of you would
have been killed.  Has anyone been seriously hurt?"
A chorus of "no's" echoed from all sides.
The showman breathed a sigh of relief.  A bare half dozen had to
be helped down from the seats, where they had been struck by
flying debris, but beyond that no one obeyed Mr. Sparling's
request to remain.
The men had run quickly along under the seats to see if by any
chance injured persons had fallen through.  They helped a few out
and these walked hurriedly away, bent on getting off the circus
lot as quickly as possible after their exciting experiences.
"No one killed, Phil."
"I'm glad of that.  I'm going to look for Wallace.  Better get
your men out right away, or he'll be too far away for us ever to
catch him again.  Have the menagerie men gone to look for him?"
"I don't know, Phil.  You will remember that I have been rather
busily engaged for the past ten or fifteen minutes."
"We all have.  Well, I'm going to take a run and see if I can get
track of the lion."
"Be careful.  Better get your clothes on the first thing you do."
"Guess he hasn't any.  His trunk and mine have gone away
somewhere," nodded Teddy.
"Never mind the clothes.  I'm on a lion hunt now," laughed Phil,
starting from the enclosure on a run.
"Nothing can stop that boy," muttered Mr. Sparling.  The owner
was all activity now, giving his orders at rapid-fire rate.
First, the men were ordered to gather the canvas and stretch it
out on the lot so an inventory might be taken to determine in
what shape the show had been left.  Others were assigned to
search the lot for show properties, costumes and the like, and in
a very short time the big, machine-like organization was working
methodically and without excitement.
It must not be thought that nothing was being done toward
catching the escaped lion.  Fully fifty men had started in
pursuit immediately after the escape.  They had been detained for
a few minutes by the blow down, after which every man belonging
to the menagerie tent, who could be spared, joined in the chase.
The lion cage, one of the few left remaining on the lot, had been
blown over as it was being taken away.  The shock had burst open
the rear door and Wallace was quick to take advantage of the
opportunity to regain his freedom.  An iron-barred partition
separated him from his mate.  Fortunately this partition had
held, leaving the lioness still confined in the cage.
The attendants quickly righted the cage, making fast the door
so that there might be no repetition of the disaster.
Seeing Phil hurrying away Teddy took to his heels also, and
within a short distance caught up with his companion.
"You going to look for that lion, Phil?"
"You had better stay here, Teddy.  You might get hurt."
"What about yourself?"
"Oh, I'm not afraid," laughed Phil.
"Don't you call me a coward, Phil Forrest.  I've got as much sand
as you have any time."
"Why, I didn't call you a coward.  I--"
"Yes, you did; yes, you did!"
"Don't let's quarrel.  Remember we are on a lion hunt just now.
Hey, Bob." hailed Phil, discovering one of the
menagerie attendants.
"Which way did he go?"
"We don't know.  When the blow down came we lost all track
of Wallace.  He's probably headed for the open country."
"Where are the searchers?"
"All over.  A party went west, another north and the third to
"What about the village--did no one go that way to hunt for him?"
"No; he wouldn't go to town."
"Think not?"
"Sure of it."
"He'd want to get away from the people as quick as he could.
You don't catch Wallace going into any town or any other place
where there's people."
"I noticed that he came in under the big top where there were
about three thousand of them," replied Phil dryly.
"He was scared; that's what made him do that."
"And that very emotion may have sent him into the town.
I'm going over there to start something on my own hook.
Are you going along Teddy?"
"You bet I am.  I always did like to hunt lions."
"When you are sure you are going away from the lion, instead of
in his direction," suggested Phil, laughingly.  "What's that you
have in your hand?"
"It's an iron tent stake I picked up on the lot.  I'll fetch him
a wallop that'll make him see stars if I catch close enough sight
"I don't think you will get quite that close to Wallace."
"I'll show you."
By this time the word had spread all over town that the
whole menagerie of the Sparling Combined Shows had escaped.
The streets were cleared in short order.  Here and there,
from an upper window, might be seen the whites of the
frightened eyes of a Negro peering down, hoping to catch
sight of the wild beasts, and fearful lest he should. "If it
was an elephant we might trail him," suggested Teddy.
"That's not a half bad idea.  The dust is quite thick.  I wish
we had thought to bring a torch with us."
"I'll tell you where we can get one."
"One of the markers set up to guide the wagon drivers to the
railroad yards.  There's a couple on the next street above here.
I saw them just a minute ago."
"Teddy you are a genius.  And to think I have known you all
this time and never found it out before.  Come on, we'll get
the torches."
They started on a run across an open lot, then turning into the
street above, saw the torches flaring by the roadside half a
block away.  Jerking the lights up the lads ran back to the
street they had previously left.
"Where shall we look?"
"We might as well begin right here, Teddy.  I can't help
believing that Wallace is somewhere in the town.  I don't
believe, for a minute, that he would run off into the country.
If he has he'll be back in a very short time.  You remember what
I tell you.  If we can get track of him we'll follow and send
word back to the lot so they can come and get him."
"Why not catch him ourselves?"
"I don't think we two boys had better try that.  I am afraid it
would prove too much for us."
"I've got a tent stake.  I'm not afraid.  Why didn't you bring
"I have the ringmaster's whip.  I prefer that to a club when it
comes to meeting a wild lion.  Hello, up there!" called Phil,
discovering two men looking out of a window above him.
"Hello yourself.  You fellows belong to the circus?"
"Yes.  Have you seen anything of a lion around this part of
"A tall fellow about my size, with blue eyes and blonde hair,"
added Teddy.
"Stop your fooling, Teddy."
"That's all," replied Phil a bit impatiently.  "Have you
"Why, we heard the whole menagerie had escaped."
"That is a mistake.  Only one animal got away--the lion."
"No; we haven't seen him, but we heard him a little while ago."
"Where, where?" questioned the boy eagerly.
"Heard him roar, and it sounded as if he was off in
that direction."
"O, thank you, thank you," answered Phil.
"Say, are you in the show did you say?" now catching sight of
Phil's tights under the bright moonlight.
"What do you do?"
"I am in the big trapeze act, the flying rings and a few other
little things."
"Is that so?"
"Yes.  Well, you'll have to excuse us.  We must be going."
"You boys are not going out after that lion alone, are you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Great Caesar!  What do you think of that?  Wait a minute; we'll
get our guns and join you."
"Please, I would rather you would not.  We don't want to kill the
lion, you see."
"Don't want to kill him?" questioned the man in amazement.
"Certainly not.  We want to capture him.  If the town's people
will simply stay in their homes, and not bother us, we shall get
him before morning and no one will be the worse for his escape.
Wallace is worth a few thousand dollars, I suppose you are aware.
Come along, Teddy."
Leaving the two men to utter exclamations of amazement, the lads
started off in the direction indicated by the others.
"What did I tell you, Teddy?  That lion is in the town at this
very minute.  He's probably eating up someone's fresh meat by
this time.  Hold your torch down and keep watch of the street.
You keep that side and I'll watch this.  We will each take half
of the road."
The Circus Boys had been around the animals of the menagerie
for nearly three years now, it will be remembered, and they had
wholly lost that fear that most people outside the circus feel
for the savage beasts of the jungle.  They thought little more
of this lion hunt, so far as the danger was concerned, than if
they had been chasing a runaway circus horse or tame elephant.
All at once Teddy Tucker uttered an exclamation.
"What is it?"
"I've landed the gentleman."
"Yes; here are his tracks."
"That's so; you have.  Don't lose them now.  We'll run him
down yet.  Won't Mr. Sparling be pleased?"
"I reckon he will.  But we have got to catch the cat first before
we can please anybody.  I wonder how we're going to do it?"
"We shall see about that later."
The boys started on a trot, holding their torches close to
the ground.  Their course took them about on another street
leading at right angles to the one they had been following.
All at once they seemed to have lost the trail.  Before them
stood a handsome house, set well back in a green lawn.  The house
was lighted up, and evidently some kind of an entertainment was
going on within.
"He's gone over in some of these yards," breathed Phil.
"Let's take the place that's lighted up, first.  He'd be
more likely to go where there is life.  He--"
Phil's words were cut short by a shriek of terror from the
lighted house followed by another and another.
"He's there!  Come on!"
Both boys vaulted the fence and ran to the front door.  By this
time shriek upon shriek rent the air.  The lads burst into the
house without an instant's hesitation.
"Upstairs!" cried Phil, bounding up three steps at a time.
A woman, pale and wide-eyed, had pointed that way when she saw
the two boys in their circus tights and realized what they had
come there for.
In a large room a dozen people, pale and frightened were
standing, one man with hand on the door ready to slam it shut at
first sign of the intruder.
"Where--where is he?" demanded Phil breathlessly.
"We were playing cards, and when somebody looked up he saw that
beast standing in the door here looking in.  He--he went down in
the back yard.  Maybe you will be able to see him if you go in
the room across the hall there.  There's a yard fenced off there
for the dogs to run in."
Phil bounded across the hall followed by two of the men.
"Does that stairway lead down into the back yard?"
questioned Phil.
"Was the door open?"
"Is it open now?"
"Yes.  We can feel the draft."
"Show me into the room and I'll take a look."
One of the men, who evidently lived in the house, stepped
gingerly across the hall, turned the knob and pushed the door
in ever so little.  Phil and Teddy, with torches still in hand,
As they did so their guide uttering a frightened yell, slammed
the door shut, and Phil heard a bolt shoot in place.
The boys found themselves in a large room running the full depth
of the house.  It had been rigged up, as a gymnasium, with the
familiar flying rings, parallel bars and other useful equipment.
All this they saw instinctively.  But what they saw beyond all
this caused the Circus Boys to pause almost spellbound.
"He's in there!  He's in there!" shouted half a dozen voices at
the same moment.  Then the lads heard the people rush down the
stairs and out into the street shouting and screaming for help.
Crouching in the far corner of the room, lashing its tail, its
evil eyes fixed upon them, was the lion Wallace.
"Wow!" breathed Teddy.
Phil with eyes fixed upon the lion reached back one hand and
tried the door behind him.  It was locked.
"Teddy, don't make any sudden moves," cautioned Phil in a
low voice.  "We're locked in.  Give me your torch.  Now edge
over to that open window and drop out.  We can't both try it,
or Wallace will be upon us in a flash.  When you get out, run
for the lot.  Run as you never ran before.  Get the men here.
Have them rush Wallace's cage here.  Be careful until you
get out.  Those people have locked us in.  I shouldn't dare open
the door anyway, now, for he'd catch us before we could get out.
I know the ways of these tricky cats."
"Phil, he'll kill you!"
"He won't.  I've got the torches.  They're the best weapons a man
could have--they and the whip."
Teddy edged toward the window while Phil with a stern command
to the lion to "charge!" at the same time cracking the whip and
thrusting the torches toward the beast, checked the rush that
Wallace seemed about to make.
Teddy dropped from the window a moment later.  Then began an
experience for Phil Forrest that few boys would have had the
courage to face.
Not for an instant did the Circus Boy lose his presence of mind.
He took good care not to crowd Wallace, giving him plenty of
room, constantly talking to him as he had frequently heard the
animal's keeper do, and keeping the beast's mind occupied as
much as he could.
Now and then Wallace would attempt to creep up on Phil, whereupon
the lad would start forward thrusting the torches before him and
crack the whip again.  Wallace was afraid of fire, and under the
menacing thrusts of the torches would back cowering into
For a full half hour did Phil Forrest face this deadly peril,
cool, collected, his mind ever on the alert, standing there in
his pink tights, almost a heroic figure as he poised in the light
of the flaring torches, the smoke of which got into his lungs and
made him cough.  He did all he could to suppress this, for it
disturbed and irritated Wallace, who showed his disapproval by
swishing his tail and uttering low, deep growls of resentment.
Phil backed away a little so as to get nearer the window that
he might find more fresh air.  Wallace followed.  Phil sprang
"Charge!" he commanded making several violent thrusts with the
torches, at which Wallace backed away again and crouched lower.
Phil saw that the lion was preparing to jump over his head; and,
discovering this, the lad held one torch high above his head and
kept it swaying there from side to side.
Suddenly he made another discovery.
The light seemed to be growing dim.  A quick glance at the flames
of the torches told him what the trouble was.
He dared not let his eyes dwell on the flame for more than a
brief instant for the glare would so blind him that he would not
be able to clearly make out the lion.  To lose sight of Wallace
for a few seconds might mean a sudden and quick end to Phil
Forrest, and he knew it full well.
The lad backed a bit closer to the window, keeping his torches
moving rapidly to hide his movements.
Wallace, watching the torches did not observe the action.
"The torches are going out," breathed Phil.  "If the folks don't
come soon I've got to jump through window glass and all or
Wallace will spring."
Phil was in a desperate situation.
CHAPTER XXIV
"Down, Wallace!  Charge!"
The Circus Boy's whip cracked viciously, while the dying
torches formed thin circles of fire as they were swung above
the lad's head.
"I shan't be able to hold him off much longer.  Wallace knows,
as well as I do, that his turn is coming in a short time.  If I
happen to be within reach then, something surely is going
to happen.  Hark!  What's that?"
Distant shouts were borne faintly to Phil's ears.  He listened
intently, catching another and welcome sound.  The latter was the
rumble of a heavy wagon, being driven rapidly along the paved
street of the town.
"It's a circus wagon," breathed the lad, recognizing the
sound instantly.  "I hope it is the wagon."
He listened intently, keeping the torches moving, now
and then cracking his whip and uttering sharp commands
The animal was growing more and more restless.  His wild
instincts were returning to him.
The torches were so low, now, that Phil could scarcely see
the beast.  Then, all at once, he realized that Wallace was
creeping toward him unmindful of the lash or of the
fading torches.
Phil waited, peering into the shadows.  He was not afraid, as he
recalled his sensations afterwards; but a strange little thrill
seemed to be racing up and down his spinal column.
Then the lad did a daring thing.  He sprang forward to
meet Wallace.  The astonished lion halted for a brief instant,
and in that instant the Circus Boy thrust one of the torches
full in his face.  The flame burned the nose of the king of
beasts and singed his brow as well.
Uttering a mighty roar Wallace cleared the floor, springing
backwards and landing against the wall with such force as to
jar several panes of glass from the window nearby.
"Phil!  Phil!  Are you there?" came a hesitating voice from
behind the lad.  It was the voice of Teddy Tucker on a ladder
at one side of the window from which he had jumped earlier in
the evening.
"Yes, yes.  Be careful.  Did you bring them?"
"We've got the cage.  Mr. Sparling is here, too.  He's half
worried to death.  What shall we do?"
"Have them draw the cage up in the back yard and back it against
the open door.  When that's done some of you come upstairs and
throw the door open.  Be sure to leave a light in the hall, but
jump into the room across the hall as soon as you open the door.
Wallace will scent his mate and I'll wager he'll trot right
downstairs and jump into his cage.  Have someone standing by to
close the doors on him.  Hurry now.  Tell them my torches won't
last five minutes longer."
Teddy slid down the ladder without waiting to place feet or hand
on the rungs, and Phil's anxious ears told him the men were
drawing the cage around to the rear yard.
Soon he heard footsteps on the back stairs.  Wallace was showing
new signs of agitation.
"All ready, in there?"
"All ready," answered Phil.
Teddy jerked the door open and leaping across the hall, shut
himself in the room opposite.  Wallace paused, his tail beating
the wall behind him; then uttering a roar that shook the
building, the shaggy beast leaped into the hall.  There he paused
for an instant.  One bound took him to the foot of the stairs.
The next landed him in the cage next to his mate.  The cage
doors closed behind him with a metallic snap.
Wallace was safe.
"Got him!" shouted a voice from below.
Phil drew a long sigh of relief.  Someone dashed up the stairs
on a run.  It was Mr. Sparling.  He grabbed Phil Forrest in his
arms, hugging him until the dead torches fell to the floor with
a clatter and the lad begged to be released.
"My brave Phil, my brave boy!" breathed the showman.  "No one but
you could have done a thing like that.  You have saved the lives
of many people this night, and what is more you have captured the
most valuable lion in the world--you and Teddy.  I don't know
what to say nor how to say it.  I--"
"I wouldn't try were I in your place," grinned Phil.  "I presume
you will have to settle with these people for the slight damage
that has been done to their house."
"I'll settle the bills; don't you worry about that."
"Any more lions lying around loose in here?" questioned Teddy,
poking his head in through the open door.  "I and my little club
are ready for them if there are."
"Shall we be going, Mr. Sparling?"
Together the three made their way down the stairs just as the
cage was being driven from the yard.  As soon as he could find
the owner of the house the showman paid him for the damages.
"What shape is the big top in?" asked Phil as they walked slowly
back toward the lot.
"Bad, very bad.  I might say that it comes pretty near being a
hopeless wreck.  Still it may be patched up."
"I am sure of it.  I know a blown-down tent is not half as
hopeless as it looks.  I saw the Robinson shows with a blown-down
"I have been thinking the matter over, Phil."
"We have only a few days more to go before the close of the
season, and it seems to me that the best plan would be to close
right here and go in.  What do you think?"
"I think," answered Phil Forrest slowly, "that I should turn
all hands loose and fix that tent up so the show will be able
to make the next stand and give a performance by tomorrow night
at latest.  It can be done.  If the tent is too badly torn to
set up a six pole show, make it a four pole show, or use the
menagerie tent for the circus performance.  I should never have
it said that the Sparling Combined Shows were put out of
business by a gale of wind."
Mr. Sparling halted.
"Phil, there is an old saying to the effect that you can't
'teach an old dog new tricks.' It's not true.  You have taught
me a new trick.  The Sparling shows shall go on to the close of
the season.  We'll make the next town, somehow, and we'll give
them a show the like of which they never before have seen."
"If they had been here tonight they would have seen one such as
they never saw before," grinned Teddy.
"A sort of Wild South instead of Wild West show," added the
irrepressible Teddy.
All that night the showmen worked, Phil not even taking the time
to discard his gaudy ring clothes.  The next morning both he and
Teddy were sights to behold, but the show had been loaded, and
the big top straightened out and put in shape so that it could be
pitched when the next town was reached.  At last the boys decided
to hunt up their trunks.  They found them, after a long search.
Getting behind a pole wagon they put on their clothes.  An hour
later they were on their way to the next stand, tired but proud
of their achievements and happy.
The news of the accident to the show, as well as the capture of
the big lion, Wallace, by the Circus Boys, had preceded them to
the next town.  Once more Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker were
hailed as heroes, which they really had proved themselves to be.
A very fair performance, considering their crippled condition,
was given that afternoon.  By the next day the show was on its
feet again, and from then on to the close of the season, no other
exciting incidents occurred.
Two weeks later the big top came down for the last time
that year.  On the afternoon of that happy day, the associates
of the Circus Boys gave a banquet for the two lads under the
cook tent, at which Teddy Tucker distinguished himself by making
a speech that set the whole tent in an uproar of merriment.
Good-byes were said, and the circus folks departed that night bag
and baggage to scatter to the four quarters of the globe, some
never to return to the Sparling shows.  Phil and Teddy returned
to Edmeston to finish their course at the high school, from which
they were to graduate in the following spring.
How the lads joined out with the circus the next season will be
told in a succeeding volume entitled, "THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE
MISSISSIPPI; Or, Afloat with the Big Show on the Big River."
This was destined to be one of the most interesting journeys
of their circus careers--one filled with new and exciting
experiences and thrilling adventures.
Until then we will leave them to continue their studies in the
little village of Edmeston.
This Etext was prepared for Project Gutenberg by Greg Berckes
The Circus Boys On the Mississippi
Afloat with the Big Show on the Big River
By EDGAR B. P. DARLINGTON
I      MAKING A LIVELY START
II     JANUARY LENDS A FOOT
III    A DAY OF MEMORIES
IV     THEIR CURIOSITY AROUSED
V      THE CIRCUS BOYS' SURPRISE
VI     A BOLT FROM THE CLOUDS
VII    IN NEW QUARTERS
VIII   JANUARY ON THE RAMPAGE
IX     PHIL FORREST TO THE RESCUE
X      ALL ABOARD FOR THE GULF!
XI     EGG, EGG, WHO'S GOT THE EGG?
XII    TRYING OUT A NEW ACT
XIII   A NARROW ESCAPE
XIV    THE PILOT GETS A SURPRISE
XV     AN UNWELCOME VISITOR
XVI    BETRAYED BY A SNEEZE
XVII   EAVESDROPPERS!
XVIII  MAKING A CAPTURE
XIX    TEDDY JOINS THE BAND
XX     A CAPTURE IN THE AIR
XXI    A CIRCUS BOY MISSING
XXII   OVERBOARD INTO THE RIVER
XXIII  THE ROMAN CHARIOT RACES
XXIV   CONCLUSION
The Circus Boys on the Mississippi
MAKING A LIVELY START
"Have you had any trouble with Diaz, Teddy?"
"The new Spanish clown."
Teddy Tucker's face grew serious.
"What about him, Phil?"
"That is what I am asking you.  Have you had any
misunderstanding--angry words or anything of the sort with him?"
persisted Phil Forrest, with a keen, inquiring glance into the
face of his companion.
"Well, maybe," admitted the Circus Boy, with evident reluctance. 
"What made you think I had?"
"From the way he looked at you when you were standing in the
paddock this afternoon, waiting for your cue to go on."
"Huh!  How did he look at me?"
"As if he had a grudge against you.  There was an expression in
his eyes that said more plainly than words, 'I'll get even with
you yet, young man, you see if I do not.'"
"Wonderful!" breathed Teddy.
"What do you mean?"
"You must be a mind reader, Phil Forrest," grumbled Teddy,
digging his heel into the soft turf of the circus lot.  "Can you
read my mind?  If you can, what am I thinking about now?"
"You are thinking," answered Phil slowly, "that you will make me
forget the question I asked you just now.  You are thinking you
would rather not answer my question."
Teddy opened his eyes a little wider.
"You ought to go into the business."
"What business?"
"Reading people's minds, at so much per read."
"Thank you."
"I wish you'd read the mind of that donkey of mine, and find
out what he's got up his sleeve, or rather his hoofs, for me
this evening."
"Do you know of what else you are thinking?"
"Of course I do.  Think I don't know what I am thinking about? 
Well!  What am I thinking about?"
"At the present moment you are thinking that you will do to Diaz
what he hopes to do to you some of these days--get even with him
for some fancied wrong.  Am I right?"
"I'll hand him a good stiff punch, one of these fine spring
mornings, that's what I'll do," growled Tucker, his face
flushing angrily.
"Teddy Tucker, listen to me!"
"I'm listening."
"You will do nothing of the sort."
"You just wait and see."
"Since we started out on our fourth season with the Sparling
Combined Shows this spring, you have behaved yourself
remarkably well.  I know it must have pained you to do so. 
I give you full credit, but don't spoil it all now, please."
"Yes.  You must remember that this is now a Big show--larger this
season than ever before, and you must not expect Mr. Sparling to
excuse your shortcomings as he did in the old days."
"I'm not afraid of Boss Sparling."
"You have no occasion to be, as long as you do your duty and
attend to business.  We owe him a heavy debt of gratitude,
both of us.  You know that, don't you, Teddy?"
"I--I guess so."
"What is the trouble between you and Diaz?" persisted 
Phil Forrest, returning to his original inquiry.
"Well," drawled Teddy, "you know their act?"
"Throwing those peaked hats clear across the arena and catching
the hats on their heads, just like a couple of monkeys."
"I didn't know monkeys ever did that," smiled Phil.
"Well, maybe they don't.  The trained seals do, anyhow."
Phil nodded.
"They--the Spaniards--were doing that the other day when I was
going out after my clown act.  I had picked up the ringmaster's
whip, and as one of the hats went sailing over my head I just
took a shot at it."
"Took a shot at it?"
"Yes.  I fired at it on the wing, as it were.  Don't you
understand?" demanded the lad somewhat impatiently.
Phil shook his head.
"I hit it a crack with the ringmaster's whip and I hit the mark
the first shot.  Down came the hat and it caught me on the nose."
"Then what did you do?"
"Knocked it on the ground, then kicked it out of the ring,"
grinned Teddy.
"Of course you spoiled their act," commented Phil.
"I--I guess I did."
"That was an ungentlemanly thing to do, to say the least.  
It is lucky for you that Mr. Sparling did not happen to see you.
Do you know what would have happened to you if he had?"
"He would have fined me, I suppose."
"No.  You would have closed right there.  He would have had you
sent back home by the first train if he had seen you do a thing
"I don't care.  I can get a job with the Yankee Robinson show any
"Not if you were to be discharged from this outfit for 
bad conduct.  I don't wonder Diaz is angry.  Did he say
anything to you at the time?"
Teddy nodded.
"What did he say?"
"I didn't understand all he said.  Some of it was in Spanish,
but what I did understand was enough," grinned the boy.
"Strong language, eh?"
"Phil, he can beat the boss canvasman in that line."
"I am surprised, Teddy Tucker."
"I don't mean that.  I am surprised that you should so far forget
yourself as to do such a thing.  I don't blame Diaz for being
angry, and I warn you that you had better look out for him.  
Some of those foreigners have very violent tempers."
"Well, he didn't tell the boss, at any rate."
"No.  Perhaps in the long run it might have been better for you
if he had.  Diaz is awaiting his opportunity to get even with you
in his own way.  Look out for him, Teddy."
"He had better look out for me."
"Don't irritate him.  Were I in your place I should go to the
clown and apologize.  Tell him it was a thoughtless act on your
part and that you are sorry you did it--"
"As you please, but that is what I would do."
"You--you would do that?"
"I certainly would."
"And let him give you the laugh?"
"That would make no difference to me.  I should be doing what is
right, and that would be satisfaction enough, no matter what he
said or did after that."
Teddy reflected for a moment.
"Well, maybe that would be a good idea.  And if he won't accept
my apology, what then--shall I hand him a--"
"Smile and leave him.  You will have done the best you could to
make amends."
"All right, I'll apologize," nodded the Circus Boy.  "I'll shed a
tear or two to show him how sorry I am.  Want to see me do it?"
"I should say not.  You will do it better provided I am not
looking on, but for goodness' sake don't make a mess of the
whole business.  It would be too bad to make an enemy of one of
your associates so early in the season.  Think how uncomfortable
it would be for you all through the summer.  He has not been
with us long enough to become used to your practical jokes. 
Perhaps after he gets better acquainted with you, he may not
mind your peculiar ways so much," added Phil, with a 
short laugh.  "Now run along and be good."
Teddy turned away and slipped through the paddock opening, in
front of which the lads had been standing just outside the tent,
leaving Phil looking after him with a half smile on his face.
The Circus Boys were again on the road with the Great Sparling
Combined Shows.  This was their fourth season out, and the
readers will remember them as the same lads who in "THE CIRCUS
BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS," had made their humble start in the
circus world.  During that first season both lads had
distinguished themselves--Phil for his bravery and cool
headedness, Teddy for getting himself into trouble under all
circumstances and conditions.  They had quickly risen, however,
to the grade of real circus performers, the owner of the show
recognizing in each, the making of a fine performer.
In "THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT," it will be recalled
how Phil and his companion won new laurels in the sawdust arena,
and how the former ran down and captured a bad man who had been a
thorn in the side of the circus itself for many weeks through his
efforts to avenge a fancied wrong.  By this time the boys had
become full-fledged circus performers, each playing an important
part in the performance.
It will be recalled, too, how Phil and Teddy in "THE CIRCUS BOYS
IN DIXIE LAND," advanced rapidly in their calling; how Phil was
captured by a rival show, held prisoner on the owner's private
car, and later was obliged to become a performer in the ring of
the rival show.  His escape, his long tramp to rejoin his own
show, followed by the battle of the elephants--will be well
remembered by all the readers of the previous volumes in 
this series.
During the winter just passed, the lads had been attending the
high school at Edmeston, where they made their home, working hard
after school hours to keep themselves in good physical condition
for the next season's work.
Spring came.  The lads passed their final examinations, and, with
their diplomas in their pockets, set out one bright May morning
to join the show which, by this time, had come to be looked upon
by them as a real home.
They had been on the road less than two weeks now, and were
looking forward with keen anticipation to their summer under the
billowing canvas of the Great Sparling Shows.
"I think I _will_ take a peep to see how Teddy is getting
along with his apology," decided Phil, turning and entering
the paddock.  Then he stepped quietly into the dressing tent.
He saw Teddy approach the clown, Diaz, who sat on his trunk
making up his face before a hand mirror.
Teddy halted a few feet from the clown, waiting until the latter
should have observed him.  The clown glanced up, glowered, and
slowly placed the mirror on the trunk beside him.  He seemed
astonished that the boy should have the courage to face him.
Then Teddy, solemn-faced, made his apology.  To Phil Forrest's
listening ears it was the most amazing apology he ever had
listened to.
"I'm sorry I made a monkey of you," said Teddy.
"What!" fairly exploded the clown.
"I'm sorry I made a monkey of you," repeated the Circus Boy in a
slightly louder tone.  "Maybe I wouldn't have done so if I had
had time to think about it."
"You make apology to me--to me?" questioned Diaz, tapping his own
chest significantly.
"Yes; to whom did you think I was making an apology--to the hyena
out under the menagerie top, eh?"
"I am sorry I made a fool of you, Mr. Diaz."
"Yes, I guess you are about right.  You certainly look the
part, and--"
Diaz sprang up with a growl of rage, Tucker giving ground a
little as he observed the anger in the painted face before him. 
Before the lad could raise his hands to protect himself Diaz had
grasped Teddy and hurled him across the dressing tent, where he
landed in a pail of water.
He was up in a twinkling.  His face was flushed and his hands 
were clenched.
No sooner had he gotten to his feet than he observed that the
clown had started for him again.  Teddy squared off, prepared
for fight.  At that moment, however, there came an interruption
that turned the attention of the enraged clown in 
another direction.
Phil Forrest quickly stepped between them facing Diaz.
"What are you going to do?" demanded the Circus Boy in a
quiet voice.
"I punish the monkey-face--"
"You will, eh?" howled Teddy, starting forward.
Phil thrust his companion aside.
"Go away.  I will see if I can explain to him," cautioned Phil,
turning to the clown again, just as the latter was making a rush
"One moment, Mr. Diaz.  My friend Teddy is not very diplomatic,
but he means well.  He apologized to you for what he had done,
did he not?"
"Yes," growled the clown.
"Then why not call it square and--"
"I punish him.  I fix him!" roared Diaz, making a leap for Teddy,
who had managed to edge up nearer to them.
"You will do nothing of the sort," answered Phil Forrest firmly,
again stepping between them.
An angry light glowed in the eyes of the clown.  For an instant
he glared into Phil's steady gray eyes, then all of a sudden
launched a vicious blow at the boy.
The blow failed to reach the mark.  Phil dodged and stepped back
a couple of feet.
Another, as swift as the first was sent straight for his head. 
This blow the Circus Boy skillfully parried, but made no effort 
"Mr. Diaz!  Mr. Diaz!" warned Phil.  "You forget yourself.  
Please don't do anything you will be sorry for afterwards."
"I fix you!" snarled the clown.
"I don't want to hit you, sir, but you may force me to do so."
Phil had no time to warn the fellow further, for the clown
began to rain blows upon him, though with no great exhibition
of boxing skill.  Phil could have landed effectively anywhere
on the clown's body had he chosen to do so.
Instead, the boy slowly gave ground, defending himself cleverly. 
Not one single blow from the powerful fist of Diaz reached him,
Phil exhibiting the wonderful self-control that was
characteristic of him.  He even found opportunity to warn Teddy
to get out of the tent until the tempest had blown over.
Teddy, however, stood with hands thrust in his trousers pockets,
shoulders hunched forward, glaring at Diaz.
"Don't you get in this now," breathed Phil.  "Keep away! 
Keep away!  I'll--"
At that moment Phil stumbled over a trunk, landing on his head 
and shoulders.  Quick as he was he found himself unable to turn
over and roll away soon enough to get beyond reach of the 
angry clown.
Diaz hurled himself upon the slender, though athletic figure of
the Circus Boy, almost knocking the breath out of Phil.
No sooner had he done so than something else happened.  A body
launched itself through the air.  The body belonged to Tucker. 
Teddy landed with great force on the head and shoulders of the
enraged clown, flattening the latter down upon Phil with crushing
weight, and nearly knocking Forrest senseless.
JANUARY LENDS A FOOT
"Stop it!" roared a voice.  "We don't allow 'roughhouse' in the
dressing tent."
"Yes," added another; "go out on the lot if you want to settle
your differences."
Mr. Miaco, the head clown, who had been a true friend to the
boys from the beginning of their circus career, had discovered
what was going on about the time Teddy decided to mix in in
the disagreement.  Mr. Miaco sprang up and ran to the
struggling heap.  Grasping Teddy firmly by the shoulder he
tossed the lad aside.
"Now, you stay out of this, unless you want a thrashing from me,"
the head clown warned.
The next to feel the grip of his powerful hand was the clown,
Diaz, and when Mr. Miaco discovered that the clown had Phil
Forrest down, he could scarcely restrain himself from severely
punishing the fellow.  However, Miaco satisfied himself with
hauling Diaz from his victim with little ceremony.  Then he
jerked the angry clown to his feet.
"Well, sir, what have you to say for yourself?" demanded Miaco,
gazing at the other sternly.
"This no business of yours," growled Diaz.
"That remains to be seen.  I'll decide whether it is any of my
affair or not.  Phil, what does this mean?"
"Just a little matter between ourselves.  Thank you for helping
"Did he attack you, Phil?"
"He did, but he no doubt thought he had sufficient provocation. 
Perhaps we should not be too hard on Mr. Diaz."
"Then the best thing to do is to tell Mr. Sparling.  I--"
"Please don't do anything of the sort," begged Phil.  "In the
first place, Diaz's anger was directed against Teddy, and I had
to mix myself in their quarrel.  Teddy did something to him a
few weeks ago that made the clown very angry, and I don't 
blame Diaz."
"Was there any excuse for his pitching into you in this manner?"
"Well," laughed Phil, "perhaps the situation did not demand
exactly that sort of treatment."
"How did you come to let him get you so easily?"
"I fell over something."
"Oh, that's it?"
"Yes.  I wasn't trying to hit him.  I could have done so easily,
but I felt that I was in the wrong."
"Humph!" grunted the head clown.  Then he turned to Diaz.
"See here, you fellow!"
"What you want?" demanded Diaz in a surly tone.
"I want to advise you to let those boys alone in the future. 
They have been with this show a long time, and they are highly
thought of by Mr. Sparling.  Were he to hear what you have done
tonight I rather think you would pack your trunk and quit 
right here.  I shall not tell him.  Next time I see you doing
any such thing you will have to answer to me.  I'm the head
clown here, and I won't stand for one of my men pitching 
Teddy was chuckling to himself over the severe rebuke that Miaco
was administering to his clown.
"Do you boys intend going on tonight?" Miaco demanded suddenly,
turning on Teddy.
"Certainly," answered Phil.
"Then I should advise you to be getting into your makeups."
"Why, what time is it?"
"A quarter to eight."
"Whew!  Come on, Teddy."
A few moments more and peace had been restored in the dressing
tent, though Diaz was muttering to himself as he laid the powder
over his face, preparatory to his first entry into the ring.
"I am afraid we have not heard the last of Diaz, Teddy,"
confided Phil to his companion.  "You see what your moment
of thoughtlessness has brought upon us, don't you?"
"You didn't have to mix in the row.  I could have handled him."
"I am forced to admit that you are right.  I sought to avoid
trouble and I was the direct cause of a lot of it.  There goes
the first call.  Hurry up!"
The Circus Boys had, indeed, made an enemy.  It was noticed,
however, that Manuel, the assistant of Diaz, had taken no part in
the row.  The young man had calmly proceeded with his making up
without appearing to take the slightest interest in the affair. 
Whether or not his apparent indifference was merely assumed was
The two boys were not performing on the flying rings this season.
They had retained all their other acts, however, though the star
act was the flying trapeze, in which Phil Forrest was now one of
the leading performers.
Teddy rode his donkey, January, took part in the ground tumbling,
acted as shadow again for the clown Shivers, besides making
himself generally useful in some of the other acts.
As for Phil's bareback riding, he occupied the center ring in
this act, as he had done the season before.  He had come to be
perhaps the most useful man with the Sparling show.
"I advise you to look out for that fellow.  He is a dangerous
customer," warned Miaco under his breath, as Phil sat down on his
horse during a rest in the performance.
The Circus Boy nodded his understanding, but appeared little
disturbed at Miaco's warning.  Like the seasoned circus man that
he was, he had learned to take things as they came, making the
best of every situation when he came face to face with it.
Diaz and his assistant were entering the ring as Phil left it. 
They began throwing their hats, winning great applause, for their
act was a clever one of its kind.  At about the same time, Teddy
Tucker and January came on, the Circus Boy howling, January
braying and bucking, beating the air with his heels, for he had
been taught some entirely new tricks during the winter.
The ringmaster held up his hand for silence.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you, January.  
As January is the first month of the year, so is this January
first in the donkey world.  You will observe how docile and kind
he appears.  Yet, ladies and gentlemen, the management of this
show will give a hundred dollars to any person who can stick 
on his back for a full minute--only sixty seconds, ladies 
and gentlemen.  Do you know of any easier or faster way to 
make money?  Six thousand dollars an hour if you stay that long. 
Who will be the first to earn the money?"
It was the first time the announcement had been made from 
the ring.  Mr. Sparling had given his consent, even though 
he had not seen the act.  He had, however, observed Teddy 
engaged in a tussle with the beast that afternoon, and could
readily understand that what Teddy told him about January's
contrariness was not overdrawn.
A colored man came down from the audience, and, throwing off his
coat, announced his intention of riding the mule.
January appeared to have no objection, permitting the colored
man to get on his back without offering the least opposition. 
To Teddy, who stood in front of the animal, grinning, there was
a glint in the eye of the mule that spelled trouble for the
colored man.
Suddenly January reared, then as quickly tipped the other way
until it appeared to the spectators as if he were standing on
The rider suddenly landed on his back in the sawdust.
"The gentleman loses," announced the ringmaster.  "Is there any
other gentleman in the audience who thinks he can earn one
hundred dollars a minute--six thousand dollars an hour?"
No one appeared to be anxious to make the attempt.
Manuel, in the meantime, had drawn closer, paying strict
attention to the words of the ringmaster.
"You give money for riding the burro?" questioned the
little Spaniard.
"Burro?  This is no Mexican burro, this is a donkey!" sniffed
Teddy contemptuously.
The ringmaster instantly scented an opportunity to have some fun,
and at the same time make the audience laugh.  He glanced about
to see if Mr. Sparling were under the big top, and not seeing
him, instantly decided to take a long chance.
"Do you think you can ride January, sir?"
"I ride burro."
"Very well, it is your privilege to do so if you can.  Ladies and
gentlemen, this clown has never before attempted this feat.  
He thinks he can ride the donkey.  If he succeeds he will receive
the reward offered by the management of the show, just the same
as you would have done had you performed the feat."
Teddy stroked January's nose, then leaning over, the Circus Boy
whispered in the animal's ear.
"January," he said, "you've got a solemn duty to perform.  
If you shirk it you are no longer a friend of mine, and you
get no more candy--understand?  No more candy."
January curled his upper lip ever so little and brayed dismally.
"That's right; I knew you would agree to the sentiment."
"Get away from his head, Master Teddy.  The Spanish clown is
about to distinguish himself," announced the ringmaster.
Manuel was an agile little fellow.  While the announcement was
being made he had been taking mental measurement of the beast
and deciding upon his course of action.
Ere Teddy had stepped back the Spaniard took a running start,
and, with a leap, landed fairly on the back of the donkey.
The latter, taken by surprise, cleared the ground with all
four feet and bucked, but the rider had flung his arms about
the donkey's neck, clinging with both feet to the beast's
body, grimly determined to win that hundred dollars or die
in the attempt.
"Go it, January," encouraged Teddy.  "Give it to him!  
Soak him hard!"
January stood on his hind feet, then on his head, as it were,
but still the Spaniard clung doggedly.
By this time the donkey had begun to get angry.  He had been
taken an unfair advantage of and he did not like it.  Suddenly he
launched into a perfect volley of kicks, each kick giving the
rider such a violent jolt that he was rapidly losing his hold.
"Keep it up!  Keep it up!  You've got him!" exulted the
The audience was howling with delight.
"There he goes!" shrieked Teddy.
Manuel, now as helpless as a ship without a rudder, was being
buffeted over the back of the plunging animal.
Manuel was yelling in his native language, but if anyone
understood what he was saying, that one gave no heed.  Teddy, on
the other hand, was urging January with taunt and prod of the
ringmaster's whip.
Suddenly the Spanish clown was bounced over the donkey's rump,
landing on the animal's hocks.  It was January's moment--the
moment he had been cunningly waiting and planning for.  
The donkey's hoofs shot up into the air with the clown on them. 
The hoofs were quickly drawn back, but the Spanish clown
continued right on, sailing through the air like a great 
gaudy projectile.
The audience yelled its approval.
Manuel landed with a crash in the midst of the lower
grandstand seats.  A second later there was a mix-up that
required the united services of a dozen ring attendants to
straighten out.
In the meantime, Teddy Tucker was rolling on the ground near the
center pole, howling with delight, while January, with lowered
head, was trotting innocently toward the paddock.
The ringmaster's whistle trilled for the next act, and the show
went on with its characteristic dash and sprightliness.
However, Teddy Tucker's plan to get one of the Spanish 
hat-throwing clowns into trouble had been an entire success. 
He had succeeded, also, in making another bitter enemy for
the Circus Boys.
A DAY OF MEMORIES
Mr. Sparling, the owner of the show, had been a witness of
the latter part of Teddy's act.  The showman was standing
over near the entrance to the menagerie tent when Manuel took
his unexpected flight, and the proprietor sat down on the
grass, laughing until the tears started from his eyes.
The act had been a breach of discipline, so Mr. Sparling
prudently kept himself out of sight until the show had
progressed further.
Later in the evening he chanced to pass Teddy out in the paddock.
"Well, my lad, how is January working tonight?" he asked, with a
twinkle in his eyes.
"Never better, sir, thank you."
"I presume he obeys your commands perfectly, eh?"
"Does everything I tell him to, Mr. Sparling.  I can do anything
with that donkey.  Why, I could wink at him and make him kick
your head off.  I--"
"I'll take your word for it, young man--I'll take your word
for it.  Let me warn you to be careful that you do not tell
him to do anything that will interfere with the programme. 
We must have our acts clean cut, and embodying nothing that
has not been arranged for in advance.  Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," answered Teddy, giving the owner a keen,
inquiring glance.
"I'll bet he saw that," mused the lad.  "He's letting me off
easy because he had to laugh, just the same as the rest of the
people did."
"What did Mr. Sparling have to say?" questioned Phil, who had
emerged from the dressing tent just as Teddy was walking away
from the showman.
Teddy told him.
"You got off pretty easy, I must say.  It is a wonder he did not
discipline you for that."
"Do you think he saw Manuel fly?"
"He did, or else someone told him.  Be careful, Teddy!  You are
laying up trouble for all of us," warned Phil.
"I got even with Mr. Hat Thrower, just the same," grinned Tucker.
Teddy was the happiest boy in the show that night, and he went to
his sleeping quarters chuckling all the way.
The show, this season, had opened in Chicago, and was now working
its way across the state of Illinois.  The route had caused
considerable comment among the show people.  They did not
understand what the plans of the owner might be.
Ordinarily, give a showman the first week or two of the show's
route and he will tell you just what parts of the country the 
show will visit during that particular season.  The performers
were unable to do so in this instance.  Phil Forrest was as much
perplexed as the others, but he made no mention of this to 
Mr. Sparling.
"He has some surprise up his sleeve, I am sure," decided
Phil shrewdly.
The next morning Phil asked Mr. Miaco, the head clown, 
if he knew where they were going.
"I do not," answered the clown.  "This route has kept 
me guessing.  Boss Sparling may be headed for Australia 
for all I know.  He's just as likely to go there as 
anywhere else.  Has the Spaniard bothered you since 
that mix-up?"
"Well, keep away from him.  That is my advice."
"I shall not bother him.  You may depend upon that, Mr. Miaco.  
I can't say as much for Teddy."
"Teddy put up that job with January last night, didn't he?"
"He hasn't said so."
"Not necessary.  I saw the whole thing.  Lucky for Teddy that 
Mr. Sparling did not happen to be about."
"I am not so sure that he was not."
Phil explained what Mr. Sparling had said to Teddy out in 
the paddock.
"Yes, he saw it all right, but I guess he doesn't know about the
trouble in the dressing tent yesterday."
"No, I think not.  I hope he does not hear of it, either.  
I do not wish Mr. Sparling to think that I am a troublemaker,
or that I was mixed up in an unseemly row in the dressing tent. 
I should feel very much humiliated were I to be called to
account for a thing like that.  What are all those flags flying
for in town today?"
"Don't you know?"
"No, I don't."
"You don't know what day this is?"
"This is Decoration Day."
"Oh, that's so."
"We lose all track of days in the show business.  I'll wager you
do not even know what town we are performing in today," laughed
"I shall have to confess that I do not."
"I thought so.  Of course you know we are in the state 
of Illinois?"
"Yes, I think I have heard something to that effect,"
grinned Phil.
By the time the boys had eaten their breakfast, and had strolled
over toward the tents, they found the dressing tents in place and
the performers busily engaged in unpacking their belongings,
hanging their costumes on lines stretched across the dressing
tent, and making such repairs in the costumes as were found to be
necessary, for a showman must be handy with the needle as well as
with bar and trapeze.
Phil's trunk was next to that of Diaz.  The Circus Boy did not
mind this at all, but the clown appeared to feel a continual
resentment at the fact.
"Good morning, Mr. Diaz," greeted the lad, with a sunny smile. 
"Shall we shake hands and be friends?"
Diaz glared at him, but made no reply.  He did not even appear to
have observed the hand that was extended toward him.
"I am sorry you feel that way about it, sir.  If I was hasty I
beg you will forgive me," urged Phil.
Diaz turned his back on him.
"Very well, sir," said the Circus Boy, a little proudly and with
slightly heightened color, "I shall not trouble you again."
Phil turned away and began unpacking his trunk, giving no further
heed to the sullen clown.
"The Honorable Mr. Diaz says 'nix,'" laughed Teddy, who had been
an amused witness to the one-sided conversation, the word "nix"
being the circus man's comprehensive way of saying, "I refuse."
"Don't stir him up, Teddy," warned Phil.
"Say, what's going on over in the women's dressing tent?"
"I did not know that anything out of the ordinary was happening
there," said Phil.  "Why?"
"I see a lot of folks going in and out."
"Nothing unusual about that, I guess."
"Yes, there is."
"What makes you think so?"
" 'Cause they're carrying flowers in and making a great fuss.  
I'm going over to find out.  Come along?"
"No, thank you.  You had better keep out.  You know you are not
supposed to go in the other dressing tent."
Teddy was not disturbed by the warning.  He turned and started
for the women's dressing tent, where he saw several of the other
performers passing through the entrance.  Phil, who had stepped
to the door of his own dressing tent, observed the same thing.
"I guess there must be something going on over there.  I shall
have to find out what it means," he thought.
"May I come in, Mrs. Waite?" called Phil from the entrance.
"Sure.  Come in Phil," smiled the wardrobe woman.
Teddy had not wasted the breath to ask permission to enter, but
the moment he stepped inside something caught his eyes, causing
them to open a little wider.
Two trunks had been drawn up in the center; over them was thrown
an American flag.  At one end a flag on a standard had been
planted, and on the trunks, flowers and wreaths had been placed.
"What's that thing?" asked Teddy.
"That is my grave, Master Teddy," answered Mrs. Waite in a
"Your grave?"
"Pshaw!  That's a funny kind of grave.  What's buried there--your
pet poodle?"
"Teddy!  Teddy!" whispered Phil reprovingly.
"Go 'way.  This is some kind of a joke," growled Teddy.
"It is not a joke, though I do not understand the meaning of it
just yet.  You say this is your grave, Mrs. Waite?" asked Phil.
"Yes, Phil.  You know my husband was a soldier?"
"No, I did not know that, Mrs. Waite.  Will you tell me all
Phil was deeply interested now.
"My husband was killed at the battle of Gettysburg.  He lies in
Woodlawn Cemetery.  I am never at home on Decoration Day.  I am
always on the road with the circus, so I cannot decorate the 
real grave."
"I understand," breathed the Circus Boy.
"Being unable to decorate my husband's real grave, I carry my
grave with me.  Each Memorial Day morning I prepare my grave
here in the dressing tent, and decorate it as you see here,
and all my friends of the circus are very good and thoughtful
on that occasion."
"How long have you been with the show--how many years have
you been decorating this little property grave, Mrs. Waite?"
"Thirty years, Phil."
"Is it possible?"
"Yes, and it seems no more than two."
"Do you intend remaining with the show much longer--aren't you
ever going to retire?"
"Yes.  I am going to retire.  I am getting old.  I have laid up
enough money to keep me for the rest of my life, and I am going
to take a rest after two years more with this outfit."
"I am afraid you will miss the show," smiled the lad.
"I know I shall.  I shall miss the life, the color, and I shall
miss my boys and my girls.  I love them all very much."
One after another, the women of the circus had come in to the
dressing tent, depositing their little floral remembrances on the
property grave while Mrs. Waite was talking.
Teddy, as soon as he fully comprehended the meaning of the scene,
had slipped out.  In a little while he returned.  He brought with
him a bunch of daisies that he had gathered on the circus lot. 
These he had tied with a soiled pink ribbon that he had ripped
from one of his ring costumes.
Phil saw the daisies, and, noting their significance, 
smiled approvingly.
"Teddy has a heart, after all," was his mental comment.
Teddy Tucker proceeded to the flag-draped grave, gently placed
his offering upon it, then turned away.
As he did so, he was observed to brush a hand across his eyes as
if something there were blurring his sight.
THEIR CURIOSITY AROUSED
"Phil, I have an idea that you are wondering where we are bound
for?" said Mr. Sparling, with a merry twinkle in his eyes.
"I will confess that I have been somewhat curious," smiled
the boy.  "From the route I could not imagine where you
were heading."
"You are not the only one who has been guessing.  Our rivals are
positively nervous over the movements of this show.  They think
we are going to jump into the Mississippi River, or something of
"Or float on it," added Phil.
Mr. Sparling eyed him keenly.
They were in the owner's private tent, discussing the business 
of the show itself, as these two did every day of the season, for
Mr. Sparling had come to place no little reliance on the judgment
of his young Circus Boy.
"What made you say that, Phil?"
"I had no particular reason.  Perhaps I thought I was saying
something funny."
"Nothing very funny about that," answered the showman.
"I agree with you."
"I thought perhaps you might ask me where we were routed for 
this season."
"And I thought you would tell me when you wished me to know,"
answered the boy.
"It was not because I did not wish you to know our route, Phil.  
I rather thought I should like to give you a surprise."
"We are going to surprise the show world at the same time, so you
see you are not the only one who will be surprised."
"You arouse my curiosity, Mr. Sparling."
"Still you refuse to ask where we are going," replied the
showman, laughing heartily.  "I have made my arrangements with
the utmost secrecy because I did not wish any of the opposition
shows to get a line on my plans.  Not one of them has done so
thus far.  Tomorrow they will know.  Or at least by the day
after tomorrow.  I am not going to let you in on my little
secret today either.  Do you think you can possess your soul 
in patience until then?"
"I think there will be no trouble about that.  If I have
restrained my curiosity so far I surely can control it
until tomorrow.  We show at Milledgeville tomorrow, do
"That's what the route card says and I guess the route card
"Small town, is it not?"
"Yes, one of the little river towns.  Do you know much about 
"Nothing except what I observed when we played the southern
states last season.  I should like to take a trip down the river,
and hope I may have an opportunity to do so one of these days."
"You'll have the opportunity, all right."
"I said you would have the opportunity."
"I hope so."
"Perhaps sooner than you think, too.  How is your friend, Tucker,
getting along?"
"Pretty well, thank you.  I guess he is working better this
season than he did last.  His acts are much more finished, don't
you think so?"
"Yes.  I noticed that he nearly finished a clown with one of
his acts the other night," answered Mr. Sparling dryly, whereat
both laughed heartily.  "Have you had any trouble, with any of
"Do you mean myself, personally?"
"Either or both of you?"
"Some slight disagreements.  What trouble we have had has been
due wholly to our own fault," answered Phil manfully.
"With whom?"
"I would rather not say anything about it, if you will permit me
to remain silent."
"You are a queer boy, Phil."
"So I have been told before," answered the lad, laughing.
"And your friend Teddy is a confounded sight more so.  I'm afraid
he would have a hard time with most any other show in spite of
the fact that he is an excellent performer."
"I have told him as much."
"Oh, you have?"
"What does he say?"
"He doesn't take my advice very seriously, I am afraid.  Teddy is
all right at heart, however."
"I agree with you."
Phil then related to Mr. Sparling the incident of the dressing
tent, when Teddy gathered the daisies to place on the "grave" in
memory of Mrs. Waite's soldier dead, to all of which the showman
listened with thoughtful face.  Mr. Sparling rose, walked to the
door of the tent, then returned and sat down.
"You never knew that I was a soldier, too, did you, Phil?"
"No, sir.  Were you really?"
"Yes.  I fought with the South.  I was a drummer boy in a Georgia
regiment," said the showman reminiscently.  "Perhaps had I been
older I might have done differently, but I loved my Sunny South
and I love it now."
"So do I," added Phil Forrest fervently.
"But the war is over.  It is the show business that concerns us
most intimately at the present moment.  I want to say that you
are doing excellent work on the flying trapeze this season."
"Thank you.  I am doing my best."
"You always do.  Whatever you attempt you go at with all the
force you possess, and that is no slight factor, either.  I have
been waiting to talk seriously with you for sometime.  You have
finished your studies, have you not?"
"What are your plans for the future?"
"I have no immediate plans beyond continuing in the 
show business.  I am trying to lay up some money so I 
can go into business some of these days."
"What business?"
"Circus business, of course.  It is the only business I know
anything about, and I know very little about that, it seems
"Let me tell you something, Phil.  Nine-tenths of the men who
have been in it nearly all their lives know no more about the
circus business than you do.  Many of them not so much.  You are
a born showman.  Take my word for it, you have a very brilliant
career before you.  You spoke, sometime ago, about wishing to go
to college."
"I should like to go."
"Under the circumstances I would advise against it, though I am a
thorough believer in the value of an education.  You have a good
start now.  Were you to go to college you would spend four years
there and when you finished, you would find that the show world
had been moving right along just the same.  You would be out of
it, so to speak.  You would have been standing still so far as
the circus was concerned, for four full years.  Think it over and
some of these days we will have another talk."
"What would you advise, Mr. Sparling?"
"I don't advise.  I am simply pointing out the facts for you to
consider, that's all."
"I thank you, Mr. Sparling.  I already owe you a debt 
of gratitude.  I shall never forget all you have done for
Teddy and myself, and I am sure Teddy also appreciates it."
"You owe me nothing."
"Oh, yes, I do!  I shall never be able wholly to pay the
debt, either."
"We will drop that side of the case, my boy.  You will want to
pack all your things for moving tonight."
"You mean my dressing-room trunk?"
"I mean all your belongings."
Phil looked his surprise.
"I have special reference to your stuff in the sleeper."
"May I ask why, Mr. Sparling."
"Because tonight will be the last night you will spend on the
sleeping car for sometime, in all probability."
"I don't understand.  Am I to leave the show?"
"Leave the show?"
"I should say not.  You leave the show?  I would rather lose any
ten men in it than to have you go away.  I trust you never will
leave it for any length of time--at least not while I am in 
the business.  No, you are going on a little trip--the show is
going on a little trip.  That is the surprise I have in store 
for you.  You will know tomorrow morning.  Not another word now,
Phil Forrest.  Run along and get ready for the performance."
The Circus Boy hurried over to the dressing tent, full of
curiosity and anticipation of what awaited him on the morrow. 
Strange to say, Phil had not the least idea what the plan of the
owner of the show might be.
The surprise was to be a complete one.
THE CIRCUS BOYS' SURPRISE
"Come, Phil and Teddy.  I want you to take a little walk with
me," called Mr. Sparling early next morning after they had
finished their breakfast.
That morning orders had been given in each of the sleeping cars,
for the performers to pack their belongings, ready to be moved
from the cars.
The show people could not understand it, and gossip was rife
among them as to the meaning of the unusual order.
Orders also had been given to the various heads of departments to
prepare to desert the train, bag and baggage.
"Where are we going?" demanded Teddy suspiciously.
"For a walk.  You need not go along, unless you wish to," added
the showman.
"Of course I wish to go.  Do you think I want to stay on the lot
when anything is going on somewhere else, eh?"
"There would be plenty going on, if you remained.  I am
sure of that," replied Mr. Sparling, with a short laugh. 
"Come along, boys."
Still wondering what it was all about, Phil and Teddy
walked along with their employer.  They passed on through
the business street of the town, then turned off sharply,
heading for the north.  A few moments of this and they
turned to the left again.
"Hello, there's the river," announced Teddy.
"Yes, that is the river."
"I wish I could take a boat ride."
"You shall have one tonight."
Phil glanced at Mr. Sparling inquiringly.
"Oh, look at that funny boat!" cried Teddy.  "It's yellow. 
I've heard of a yellow dog, but I can't say that I ever heard
of a yellow boat.  And it has a paddle wheel on behind. 
Well, if that isn't the limit!  Why, there are three of them. 
What are they, Mr. Sparling?"
Phil's eyes already were widening.  He had caught sight of
something that shed a flood of light on the mystery--the surprise
that Mr. Sparling had in store for them.  But he was not positive
enough to commit himself.
A moment more, and he knew he was not wrong.
"Teddy, if you will read the words on the side of that boat
nearest to us, you will understand, I think."
"T-h-e," spelled Teddy.
"The," finished Phil.
"S-p-a-r-l-i-n-g, Sparling.  C-o-m-b-i-n-e-d Shows.  Well, what 
do you think of _that?_"
"I hardly know what to think, yet," answered Phil Forrest.  
"The Sparling Combined Shows.  Do you mean to say--?"
"I haven't said a word," answered Mr. Sparling, with a merry
twinkle in his eyes.  "I am waiting for you to say something."
"I--I am afraid I am too much astonished to say much.  Do you
mean we are going to take to the river?"
"With the show?"
"What's that?" demanded Teddy.
"Didn't you hear?"
"I heard, but I don't understand.  What's it all about?  What is
it about those yellow boats over there?"
"The Sparling Circus is going down the Mississippi," Mr. Sparling
informed him.
"On those things?"
"On those boats."
"Then I think I'll walk.  You don't catch me riding on any
boat that has to have a wheel on behind to help push it along. 
No, siree, not for mine!"
"But, Teddy, they are fine boats," said Phil.
"They are among the few typical Mississippi River steamers,"
broke in Mr. Sparling.  "I got them far up the river last winter.
When I first conceived the plan of sending my show down the
river, on the river itself, I took a trip out here to look over
the ground--"
"You mean the water," corrected Teddy innocently.
"A little of both, my boy.  I found that no show since the early
days of the barnstorming outfits had ever attempted the feat.  
I learned a number of things that made me all the more anxious 
to try it.  The next question was a boat.  I heard of some of 
the old broad-beamed river craft that were out of commission 
up stream.  I found them exactly suited to our requirements, and
I rented them for the season.  It cost quite a sum to have them
fixed up, but you will find them just the thing for our work. 
What do you think of the idea?"
"Great!" breathed Phil.  "It fairly takes my breath away."
"When--when do we move in?" asked Teddy Tucker wonderingly.
"We begin moving in this morning.  I have given the
orders to have the property removed from the trains and
brought here, now--that is, all that will not be needed
for today's performances.  Tonight all hands will sleep
on the boats.  How will you like that, boys?"
"Fine!" answered Phil, with glowing eyes.
"I'll tell you after I try it," added Teddy prudently.
Across the sides of each boat, in big black letters, were the
words, "The Sparling Combined Shows."  Below this lettering
appeared the names of the boats.  The "River Queen" was the name
emblazoned on one, several shades more yellow than the other two.
"I guess we shall have to call her the 'Yellow Peril,'"
laughed Phil.  "Don't you think that would be an
appropriate name?"
Mr. Sparling laughed good-naturedly.
The companion boat to the "Queen" was named the "Mary Jane." 
Teddy promptly renamed her the "Fat Marie," in honor of The
Fattest Woman on Earth, much to the amusement of Phil and 
Mr. Sparling.
The "Nemah" was the third boat of the fleet, a much smaller
craft than either of the others.  The owner intended to use
the "Nemah" as the Flying Squadron of the show, the boat that
went ahead of the main body of the show, bearing the cook
tent, kitchen equipment and as much other property as could
be loaded on it.
"Well, Teddy," said Mr. Sparling, "in view of the fact that you
and Phil have renamed the 'River Queen' and the 'Mary Jane,' 
I suppose you will not be satisfied until you have rechristened
the 'Nemah.'  What will you call her?"
"'Little Nemo,'" answered the lad promptly.
"You boys beat anything I ever came across in all my circus
experience," remarked Mr. Sparling.
"Where do we sleep?" asked Phil.
"The cabins are all on the upper decks.  The lower decks will be
used wholly for the equipment.  I have had all the partitions
ripped out, down there, and the deck flooring lowered a little 
so that the elephants will have room to stand.  I have also had
smaller wheels put on all the wagons.  Had I not done so the
wagons would not have gone in through the openings on the sides."
"What about the tent poles?" asked Phil.  "You never will be able
to drive a pole wagon on board."
"You have an eye to business, I see.  Have you noticed that the
center poles are spliced this season?"
"Yes, I did observe that."
"It was for the purpose of easier handling.  The poles will
all be swung to the upper decks in bundles.  In the morning
they will be lowered to the wagons, which can be done
without much difficulty.  All the poles, except those
belonging to the big top, will go out on the 'Little Nemo,'
as you have named her.  At first, handling the show will be
a little awkward, but we shall soon get the hang of it and
fit into the new arrangement just as if we had been always
traveling on boats.  Traveling on the water, you see, we
shall be able to show on both sides of the river all the way
down, which we could not do were we traveling by train. 
That will give us a long season, short runs overnight and a
fine outing.  Everybody will be delighted with the change,
don't you think so?"
"If not, they will be pretty hard to please, I should say,"
rejoined Phil.  "Why, it will be a regular vacation--all summer!"
"How far do we go?" asked Teddy.
"The length of the river."
"To the Gulf of Mexico?"
"Yes.  New Orleans probably will be our last stand of the season.
That is, if we do not get wrecked on the big river."
"We can swim out if we do," suggested Teddy.
"I hope nothing of the sort will occur.  I think our new plans
will make a great hit along the river."
"They cannot help but do so.  We shall have a fine business, 
I know," smiled Phil," and our rivals will be green with envy."
"May we go on board?"
"I hardly think you will have time this morning, Teddy.  You boys
had better get back to the lot now.  I will let you run the show,
Phil, as I shall be busy most of the day arranging for the
transfer to our new quarters.  I chose Saturday for the purpose,
as it will give us plenty of time.  We probably shall not get
away from here much before daylight."
"What boat do we berth on?"
"The 'Fat Marie,'" answered the showman, with a laugh.  
"I believe I'll have these new names of yours painted 
on the boats.  They certainly make a hit with me.  
Skip along, now!"
Almost too full of the new plans to talk, the Circus Boys hurried
back to the circus lot.  Mr. Sparling's surprise had been a
surprise, indeed.
By the time they reached the lot the news had been circulated
that the show was to take to the river, and the show people were
discussing excitedly the new plan.
All was bustle and excitement, and the occupants of the dressing
tent, who were preparing for the parade, crowded about the boys
to hear of the new boats.
The Sparling show had never gone along with the snap and
enthusiasm that it did that afternoon.  The performers were on
their mettle and the little town was treated to a performance
such as it had never seen before.
Teddy distinguished himself by landing on his head on the
somersaulting mat, narrowly escaping breaking his neck, and
Phil took an unexpected header into the big net during his
trapeze act, getting a jolt that made his head ache for an
hour afterwards.  Nothing else of an exciting nature occurred
during the afternoon performance, but at the evening show the
circus people were not so fortunate.
At that performance they met with excitement enough to last them
for a long time.
A BOLT FROM THE CLOUDS
"The old hen has laid an egg!  The old hen has laid an egg!"
The performance was moving merrily on, the gasoline lamps
shedding a bright glow over the golden haze of the circus tent,
when a diminutive clown rushed into the arena bearing something
in his arms.
To the spectators it was just another clownish act, and they
laughed uproariously.  The circus people, however, realized at
once that something not down on the bills was taking place, and
they cast wondering glances at the little clown, who was dancing
about in high glee.
"Get out of here!" growled the ringmaster angrily.  "What do you
mean by breaking into the performance in this way.  Out of here, 
"The old hen has laid an egg!" repeated the clown, holding aloft
the object that all might see.
Teddy Tucker, for it was he, cared nothing for the crowds
occupying the seats.  In fact, it is doubtful that he gave
any thought to them at all.
"What do you mean?" demanded the ringmaster.
"The ostrich.  Don't you see?"
"The ostrich?"
"Yes, she's laid an egg."
Quick to appreciate the value of the clown's interruption, the
ringmaster took the great egg that Teddy had brought in, and held
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, as the band suddenly ceased
playing, "wonders never cease in the Great Sparling Shows.  
You have been treated to startling feats of skill upon the lofty
flying swings; you have witnessed desperately dangerous displays
of unrivaled aerialism, and you are about to observe the
thundering, furious Roman chariot races three times about 
the arena--"
"Say, what are you trying to get at?" growled Teddy Tucker. 
"Give me back that egg."
"But a sensation greater than all of these is in store for you,
though you did not know it.  The tallest hen in the world has
laid an egg for your instruction and amusement--the ostrich has
immortalized the town of Milledgeville by laying an egg within
its sacred precincts, and my friend, Teddy Tucker, in discovering
it, has accomplished an achievement beside which the discovery of
the north or south pole is a cheap side show."
The audience yelled its approval and appreciation.
"Young man, what do you intend to do with this wonderful and 
rare specimen?"
"What do I intend to do with it?"
"Yes.  Is it your purpose to present it to this beautiful little
city, to be placed among its other treasures in the city hall?"
"Well, I guess not!"
"What, then?"
"I'm going to eat it.  That's what I'm going to do with it,"
answered Teddy in a voice loud enough to be heard all over
the big top.
The people shouted.
"Give me that egg!" demanded the Circus Boy, grabbing the big
white ball and marching off toward the paddock with it, to the
accompaniment of the laughter and applause of the audience.
"Now that we have seen this remarkable Easter achievement, the
performance will proceed," announced the ringmaster, blowing his
whistle and waving his hand.
The band struck up; the performers, grinning broadly, took up
their work where they had left off upon the entrance of Teddy
Tucker with the giant egg.
The incident had served to put both performers and audience in
high good humor.  Mr. Sparling was not present to witness it.  
He was busy down by the docks, attending to the loading of such
of the show's equipment as was ready to be packed away for
shipment on the Sparling fleet.
Perhaps it was just as well for Teddy, that the owner of the show
was not present, as he might have objected to the Circus Boy's
interruption of the performance.
Teddy was irrepressible.  He stood in awe of no one except 
the Lady Snake Charmer, and did pretty much as he pleased all 
the time.  Yet, beneath the surface, there was the making of a
manly man, a resolute, sturdy character of whom great things
might be expected in the not far distant future.
As the performance proceeded an ominous rumbling was
suddenly heard.
"I think it is going to storm," Phil confided to his working mate
on the flying trapeze.
"Sounds that way.  Is that thunder I hear?"
"Guess it won't amount to much.  Just a spring shower.  You will
find a lot of them along the river for the next month or so."
"I have always heard that rivers were wet," replied Phil
humorously, swinging off into space, landing surely and
gracefully in the arms of the catcher in the trapeze act.
"I think we had better cut the act short."
"Oh, no, let's go on with it," answered Phil.  "I am not afraid
if you are not."
"Afraid nothing.  I remember still what a narrow escape we had
last season just before that blow-down, when Wallace, the big
lion, made his escape.  That was a lively time, wasn't it?"
"Rather," agreed Phil.
The ringmaster motioned to them to bring their act to a close,
and the band leader, catching the significance of the movement,
urged his musicians to play louder.  The crash of cymbals and the
boom of the bass drum and the big horns almost drowned out the
rumbling of the thunder.
Those up near the dome of the tent, still going through their
acts, now heard the patter of heavy rain drops on the canvas top.
The lights throughout the tent flickered a little under the
draught that sucked in through the openings in the tent and 
the open space at the top of the side walls.
The audience showed signs of restlessness.
"It is only a spring shower, ladies and gentlemen," announced
the ringmaster.  "You have no cause for alarm.  The hats of the
ladies are perfectly safe.  This tent is waterproof.  You could
soak it in the Mississippi without getting a drop of water
through it.  That's the way the Sparling show looks out for 
its patrons.  Nothing cheap about the Sparling outfit!"
A laugh greeted his remarks.
A blinding flash faded the gasoline lamps to a ghostly flame. 
A few seconds later a crash that shook the earth followed,
causing the audience to shiver with nervous apprehension.
Teddy had come out and was gazing aloft.  He grinned at Phil,
noting at the same time that all the lofty performers were
preparing to come down.
"Hello, fraid-cats up there!" jeered the Circus Boy.
"You get out of here!" snapped the ringmaster.  "What are you
doing here, anyway?"
"I'm working."
"Yes, I see you working.  Go on about your business and don't
bother me.  Don't you think I have anything else to do except to
watch you, in order to prevent your breaking up the performance?"
"You ought to thank me for keeping you busy," chuckled Teddy,
making a lively jump to get out of the way of the long lash that
snapped at his heels.
Perhaps there was method in Teddy Tucker's movements.  
He strolled out into the concourse, gazing up at the crowded
seats, winking and making wry faces at the people, as he moved
slowly along, causing them to laugh and shout flippant remarks 
This was exactly what he wanted them to do.  It gave Teddy an
opportunity to talk back, and many a keen-pointed shaft did he
hurl at the unwary who had been imprudent enough to try to make
sport of him.
While this impromptu act was going on the minds of the people
were so occupied that they forgot all about the storm.
The rain was now beating down on the big top in a deluge, and
despite the ringmaster's assurance that the canvas would not
leak, a fine spray was filling the tent like a thin fog, through
which the lights glowed in pale circles.
"Even the lamps have halos," Teddy informed the people.  "I had
one once, but the ringmaster borrowed it and forgot to return it.
But I don't care.  He needs a halo more than I do."
A howl greeted this sally.
Teddy was about to say something else, after the first wave of
laughter had swept over the audience, but no one heard him speak.
Another flash, more brilliant, more blinding than any that had
gone before it, lighted up the tent.  The big top seemed suddenly
to have been filled with fire.  Thin threads of it ran down
quarter and center pole; circles of it raced about the iron rings
used in various parts of the tent, then jumped into the rigging,
running up and down the iron braces and wire ropes used to brace
the apparatus.
The flash was accompanied by a report that was terrifying. 
At that instant a great ball of fire descended from the damp
top of the tent, dropping straight toward the concourse. 
Teddy Tucker chanced to be standing just beneath it.  He had
glanced up when the report came, to see if any damage had
been done aloft.
"Wow!" breathed Teddy.
Just then the ball burst only a few feet above his head,
scattering fire in all directions.
Teddy fell flat to the ground.
He was up almost at once.
"I'm all right!  How's the rest of the family?" he howled.
The rest of the family were too much concerned with what was
taking place in the big top to notice the Circus Boy's humor.
Then Teddy observed that the center pole was split from end
to end.  The lightning bolt had followed it from its peak to
the ground.  Several of the side poles had already given way,
and the lad saw the dome of the tent slowly settling.
"Hitch it!  Anchor it!" he bellowed.
The attendants were too frightened to give heed to his words.
Phil Forrest was coming down a rope, hand under hand, as rapidly
as he could travel.
"Snub the rope or you'll have the tent down on you!" he shouted.
Teddy darted forward, throwing himself upon the heavy rope that
held the dome in place.
At that instant the rope on which Phil Forrest was descending
gave way, and Phil came straight down.
He landed on Teddy Tucker's head and shoulders, knocking Teddy
flat on the ground, where the little Circus Boy lay still. 
Yet he had, with rare presence of mind, snubbed the heavy rope
around a tent stake, keeping the free end of the rope in hand,
and holding desperately to it.
Nor did Teddy release his grip on the rope, now that he had been
knocked unconscious.  He held it in place, the strands wound
firmly about his arm, though inch by inch he was slipping toward
the heavy tent stake.  Phil had received a severe shaking-up, 
but he was on his feet quickly, looking about to see on whom he
When he discovered that Teddy had been the victim, Phil groaned.
"I'm afraid I have finished him!"
Teddy had now been drawn along by the rope until his head was
against the tent stake.
"Quick!  Lend a hand here!" shouted Phil.
He wrenched the rope loose from Tucker's hands, taking a twist
about his own arms and holding on with all his might.
Several ring attendants came to their senses about that time and
rushed to his assistance.
"Take care of Teddy!" cried Phil.
The ringmaster turned Teddy over and looked into the lad's face. 
At that, Teddy opened his eyes and winked.  The ringmaster jerked
him to his feet and shook him vigorously.
This restored the boy to his normal condition.
"Hello, folks!" howled Teddy, turning a handspring, falling over
a ring curbing as he did so.
The people forgot their fear and greeted Teddy with 
wild applause.  The Circus Boy had saved a blow-down 
and perhaps many lives as well.
IN NEW QUARTERS
Though the center pole had been struck by lightning, repairs
were soon sufficiently advanced to enable the show to go on
and complete the performance.  The pole itself was
practically ruined.
Fortunately, the show had another one, and the wrecked pole was
left on the lot that night as worthless.
After the Roman races the people stood up in their seats and gave
three cheers for the boy who had saved many of them from perhaps
serious injury or death.
Teddy heard the cheer.  He was in his dressing tent changing 
his clothes, having thus far gotten on only his trousers 
and undershirt.
He could not restrain his curiosity, so trotting to the entrance
he inquired the cause of the commotion.
"They're cheering for you," a canvasman informed him.
Teddy needed no more.  Without an instant's hesitation he ran out
into the ring, where he stood smiling, bowing and throwing kisses
"Come and see us again!" yelled the Circus Boy.
"We will that!" answered a chorus of voices.
"I'll have the big hen lay another egg for you.  I--"  His voice
was drowned in the roar of laughter that followed this sally.
Already the attendants were ripping up the seats, loading them
into the wagons, with a rattle and bang.  Men were shouting,
horses neighing; here and there an animal uttered a hoarse-voiced
protest at something, it knew not what.
Circus animals often scent a change, perhaps more quickly than do
the people about them.
Performers and others, whose duties did not keep them on the lot,
were hurrying to get to the dock where the circus boats were
waiting, and where Mr. Sparling was attending to the loading.
Phil and Teddy were in no less haste.  Quickly getting their
trunks packed, they started off for the river.  The moon had come
out after the storm and the air was fresh and fragrant, though
underfoot the evidences of the storm were still present.
"Did I hurt you much when I fell on you tonight, Teddy?"
"You knocked the breath out of me.  But don't let a little thing
like that worry you.  I thought the tent had fallen on me, or at
least a center pole.  Lucky I was there, wasn't it?"
"You might have received a bump that you wouldn't have gotten
over right away."
"I might have done so."
"I saved your life, didn't I?"
"Perhaps you did.  I had only a few feet to drop, you know. 
I was ready to drop on all fours lightly when you happened
to get in the way--"
"When I happened to get in the way?"
"Yes.  Didn't you?"
"Well, I like that," growled Teddy indignantly.  "Here I run in
and save your life, willing to sacrifice my own for you and you
say when I 'happened to get in the way.'"
Phil laughed heartily.
"Of course, I appreciate your wonderful self-sacrifice.  It was
very kind of you to get in the way and let me fall on you. 
Nothing like having a soft place to fall, is there, old chap?"
Teddy uttered an unintelligible growl.
"That's right; insult me.  I'm only a clown and--and 
a life-saver--"
"And one of the best fellows a chap could have for his
friend, eh?  I was only joking, Teddy."
"I accept your apology.  My hand on it," answered 
Teddy condescendingly.  "Next time you can fall 
on the ground or any old place.  I don't care.  
I shan't try to catch you."
"If I remember correctly, you could not very well help yourself
in this instance.  You did not catch me.  I caught you--caught
you unawares.  There is Mr. Sparling and there are the boats. 
Don't they look fine, all lighted up inside, their signal lights
burning on the outside?"
"They look wet to me."
Thin wisps of smoke were curling lazily from the funnels of the
three boats, for the stokers had not yet started to get up steam.
Some hours would elapse before the fleet would be ready to begin
its journey down the big river.
"There goes the 'Little Nemo,'" cried Teddy.
The smaller of the three steamboats moved slowly out into the
stream, and there came to anchor to await the other boats.  
The "Fat Marie" was already alongside the long dock, but she now
moved up a little further to make room for her companion boat,
the "River Queen," which latter Phil had nicknamed the 
"Yellow Peril."
"Let's see, where do we stow our belongings, Phil?"
"On the 'Fat Marie.'"
"If that name don't sink her, nothing will," said Teddy, with a
broad grin.  "I hope the boat floats better than Fat Marie did
when she fell in the creek last season.  If not, we're lost. 
Let's go on board and find out where we are going to live."
"After we speak to Mr. Sparling.  Is there anything we can do to
help you, Mr. Sparling?" asked Phil, stepping up to the owner of
the show, who, hatless, coatless, his hair looking as if it had
not been combed in days, was giving orders in sharp, short
sentences, answering questions and shouting directions almost in
the same breath.
"Oh, is that you, Phil?"
"It is myself, sir," smiled the lad.  "How are you
getting along?"
"Much better than I had hoped.  You see the 'Little Nemo' is
already loaded.  The 'Fat Marie' is well loaded and the 'Queen'
is taking stuff on board at a two-forty gait."
"I see you haven't driven the bulls on yet," meaning 
the elephants.
The elephants were standing off beyond the docks, huge shadowy
figures, swaying silently in the faint light, for there was a
slight haze in the air that even the brilliant moonlight could
not wholly pierce.
"No; I thought it best to load the bulls and the ring stock 
later on.  The bulls might get frightened with all the unusual
noises around them.  After they become more used to this method 
of traveling they will be all right."
"What time do we pull out?"
"It will be three o'clock, I think.  Perhaps a little later 
"You mean earlier," suggested Teddy.
The showman turned on him sharply.
"Why, hello, Teddy.  Really, you are so small that I did not 
Teddy winced.
"I guess I'm some, even if I am little," protested the 
"You are right.  You are not only some, but _much._  
What's this I hear about trouble on the lot?  Some of the
men said they heard there had been an accident, but they
guessed it didn't amount to much."
"It was not very serious," said Phil.
"Oh, no; nothing of any consequence," jeered Teddy.  "I was
struck by lightning, that's all."
"Hit by balls of fire--and the big hen laid an egg."
"See here, what are you driving at--"
"And crushed, utterly crushed by my best friend, Phil Forrest. 
Now, what do you think of that?"
"Teddy, please hitch your tongue to the roof of your mouth for 
a moment.  Now, Phil, tell me what happened.  I get so dizzy when
Teddy is talking that I almost imagine I am going to be seasick."
"Pshaw!" growled Teddy.
"We did have a little trouble."
"Tell me about it."
"The storm came up while the aerial acts were on.  We all
shortened our acts at the direction of the ringmaster, and it
was well we did so.  We had not all gotten down when a bolt of
lightning struck the main center pole."
"You don't say!  Here, men, stow those canvas wagons forward!  
You must learn to trim the boat, giving her an even load 
all over!  Did the bolt do any damage?"
"Slivered the pole."
"Yes.  Not worth carrying off the lot."
"What else?"
"Some excitement--"
"No, but I think there would have been had it not been for my
friend, Teddy Tucker.  He amused the audience while things were
happening up above."
"Good for you, Teddy Tucker," said the showman, slapping the
Circus Boy on the back.
"Ouch!" howled Teddy.
"I was congratulating you, that's all," laughed Mr. Sparling.
"If it is all the same to you, please use a club when you
congratulate me.  I won't feel it so much."
Phil next went on to relate how Teddy had, by his quickness, made
fast the rope and probably saved the top from falling in on them,
and how he, Phil, had fallen on the boy and knocked him out.
Mr. Sparling surveyed the flushed face of Teddy approvingly.
"Thank you, Teddy," he said.  "I'll give you a day off to go
fishing, sometime, for that."
"I don't want to go fishing."
"Then you are the first showman I ever knew who did not. 
They are simply crazy over fishing.  You'll see every one
of them hanging over the rails in the early morning trying
to catch fish."
"I won't.  You'll see me asleep about that time, if you look in
the right place," answered Teddy very promptly.
"Teddy deserves your praise, Mr. Sparling."
"He does, and he has it.  I will show my appreciation more fully
when I get all this rush out of the way.  The loss of the center
pole doesn't amount to much, but the rest does."
"And the hen laid an egg," reiterated Teddy.
"Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you.  The big ostrich hen laid an egg
this evening."
"Is it possible?"
"Yes; Teddy found it in the hay behind the concert platform."
The showman's eyes twinkled.
"What were you doing back there?"
"Looking for a place to take a catnap between acts."
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"There's only one Teddy in the whole wide world!"
"I hope not," added the boy quickly.
"Where is the egg--what did you do with it?"
"Got it in my bag here, want to see it?"
He handed the egg to Mr. Sparling who turned it over, glancing at
it curiously.
"Look out!  You'll drop it!"
"And what are you going to do with it, may I ask?"
"What, eat up my property?"
"Eggs belongs to the finder, and--"
"You mean eggs _belong_ to the finder," corrected Phil.
"Yes, I guess so.  Any way, so you say it.  I'm going to eat this
egg, even if it does give me indigestion all the rest of my life.
How do you cook ostrich eggs?"
"I never cooked any, my boy.  You will have to consult the cook
on that point.  Perhaps he may consent to cook it for you."
"I'll give you a slice off the white when it's cooked."
"Thank you.  You are welcome to the whole egg.  Better go up and
locate yourselves, boys."
"What number is our room, Mr. Sparling?" asked Phil.
"Number twenty-four, on the upper deck.  I have given you a nice,
roomy, light and airy cabin that I think will please you.  It is
one of the best on the ship and you should be very 
comfortable there."
"I am sure we shall be, and thank you very much," said Phil. 
"Come along, Teddy."
Together they made their way to the boat and through the crowded,
bustling lower deck, where the big canvas-covered wagons were
being warped into place, a sort of orderly confusion reigning
over everything, the scene lighted by lanterns swinging from
hooks all about the deck.
The lads found their cabin, and after lighting the lamp, uttered
exclamations of surprise.  Instead of the narrow berths they had
expected to see, there were white enameled iron bedsteads, a
washstand with the same neat finish, and several pictures on 
The cabin was a large one.  In the center of it stood a table on
which lay a large portfolio and inscribed in gold letters on the
outside they read the words, "For the Circus Boys."
The portfolio was filled with writing materials.
"Oh, isn't that fine?" exclaimed Phil.
"Yes, it's a fine egg.  I'm going to have the feast of my life
when I get it baked--"
"Teddy Tucker!"
"What do you think I am talking about?"
"I am not.  I am talking about this beautiful cabin that 
Mr. Sparling has fixed for us.  Look at it--look at 
this portfolio.  I am afraid you don't appreciate how 
good our employer is to us.  There is an easy chair for 
each of us, too.  Why, we ought to be very happy."
"I am happy.  So would you be if a hen had laid a five pound egg
for you," retorted Teddy.
"Hopeless, hopeless," groaned Phil.
Teddy, muttering to himself, carefully laid the egg away in his
trunk, first wrapping it up in an old silk ring shirt, then
locking the trunk and putting the key in his pocket.
The lad then made a personal and critical examination of the
room, tried the springs of the bed, nodded approvingly, sat down
in one of the easy chairs and put his feet on the table.
Phil promptly pushed the feet off.
"Here, what are you doing?"
"This is not the dressing room of a circus, Teddy.  This is
the living room of a couple of young gentlemen.  Let's not
forget that.  Let us try to keep our cabin looking nice and
shipshape, else Mr. Sparling will think we do not appreciate
his kindness."
"Say, Phil!"
"I'll tell you what we'll do!"
"I am listening."
"We'll have a spread up here all by ourselves, tomorrow night,
after the show.  We'll eat the egg.  I'll get the cook to boil it
all day tomorrow--does it take a day to boil an ostrich egg?"
"I should think it might take a month," laughed Phil.  "Yes; I'll
make a martyr of myself and help you eat the egg.  I shall never
have any peace until that egg is finally disposed of--"
"What's going on downstairs?" interrupted Teddy.
A commotion was heard out on the dock.  There was the tramping of
many feet, mingled with loud, angry shouts and sharp commands.
"It sounds to me as if something has been let loose," said Teddy
Tucker wisely.
Something had been "let loose."
With one accord the Circus Boys sprang up.  Rushing out into the
corridor they leaped down the after companionway four steps at 
CHAPTER VIII
JANUARY ON THE RAMPAGE
"What's the row?  What's the row?" bellowed Teddy, who, bolting
under a cage and, leaving his hat under the wagon, dashed out to
the dock, where their vessel was moored.
The two boys saw an object leaping into the air, performing
strange and grotesque antics.
"It's January!" yelled Teddy.  "Whoa, January!"
But January refused to "whoa." The donkey had objected to going
aboard the boat.  When the workmen tried to force him, he
protested vigorously, biting those in front and kicking those
"Teddy, get that fool donkey out of here or I'll throw him in the
river," bawled the owner of the show.
Perhaps January understood the threat.  At least he started for
Mr. Sparling, snorting.
The showman ducked under a canvas wagon and climbed up the
other side of it, giving his orders from the top of the wagon. 
He knew January.  He had had business dealings with the donkey
on other occasions.
"Get him out of here, I tell you!"
"Drive him in yourself," answered a groom.  "I wouldn't try it
for a present of the whole confounded show."
Up to this point those who had not left the dock willingly
January had assisted with his ever ready hoofs, and, by the 
time Teddy reached the scene the donkey had kicked every man off
and into the street, excepting the owner of the show himself.  
As already related, Mr. Sparling had seen fit to leave in haste
when January directed his attention to him.
"Whoa, January!" commanded Teddy in a soothing tone.
The donkey, at sound of the Circus Boy's voice, reared and came
down facing Teddy.
"Come here, you beast.  Don't you know you're going to have a
ride on the river?  You don't know enough to know when you are
well off.  Come, Jany, Jany, Jany.  Wow!"
January had responded with a rush.  Teddy stepped aside just in
time to save himself from being bowled over.  But as the donkey
ran by him the boy threw both arms about the animal's neck.
Then began the liveliest scrimmage that the spectators had 
ever witnessed.  Kicking and bucking, the donkey raced from 
side to side, varying his performance now and then by making 
a dive toward the crowd, which quickly gave gangway as the 
people sought for safety.
"Whoa, January!  I--I'll break your neck for this, hang you!  
Some other donkey has taught you these tricks.  You never knew
anything about them way back in Edmeston.  You--"
Teddy was slapped against the side of the "Fat Marie."
By this time Tucker's temper was beginning to rise.  His first
inclination was to hit the donkey on the nose with his free hand,
but he caught himself in time.  He was too fond of animals, even
donkeys, to strike one on the head.  It was a rule too, in the
Sparling shows, that any man who so far forgot himself as to
strike a horse over the head closed with the show then and there.
Now Teddy thought of a new plan.  He watched his opportunity. 
Suddenly, Teddy put his plan into operation.
It must be remembered that the Circus Boy was strong and agile,
and that his work in the ring had given him added quickness.
He therefore applied the trick he had thought of; then something
happened to January.  The donkey struck the planking of the pier
flat on his back, his feet beating the air viciously.
"Whoa, January!"
Teddy flopped the animal on its side, then calmly sat down on the
donkey's head.  He had thrown the beast as prettily as ever had a
wrestler an adversary.
The Circus Boy began mopping the perspiration from his brow.
"Warm, isn't it?" he said, tilting his eyes up to where
Mr. Sparling had been watching the proceedings from the
top of a wagon.
"You certainly look the part.  Now, what are you going to do with
that fool donkey?"
"I'm going to sit on his head until I get ready to get up.  
Then, if somebody will lend me a whip, I'll tan his jacket 
to my own taste."
January uttered a loud bray.
"Well, do something," shouted a canvasman.  "We can't wait all
night on the gait of that donkey."
"All right; if any of you fellows think you know the inside
workings of a donkey's mind better than I do, just come and
lead this angelic creature on board the 'Fat Marie.'"
"No, no; we don't know anything about donkeys," came a chorus 
of voices.  "We don't want to know anything about 
donkeys, either."
"Somebody bring me a bridle, then.  Don't be afraid of him, he
is as gentle as a lamb.  You wouldn't hurt a fly, would you,
dear January?"
January elevated both hind feet, narrowly missing the groom who
had brought the bridle.
After some difficulty the bystanders succeeded in getting the bit
between his teeth and the bridle over his head.
"Now, take tight hold of the bridle and lead him.  I'll use
persuasive measures at the other end," directed Teddy.
January fairly hurled himself forward, jerking the groom off his
feet at once.  But the man hung on stubbornly.
A moment more, and Teddy had fastened a firm grip on January's
tail, not appearing to be in the least afraid of the flying hoofs
that were beating a tattoo in the air.
How Teddy did twist that tail!  Finally January, in sheer
desperation, was forced to give ground.  One leap carried him
over the gangplank and into the boat.  Once within, there was
a repetition of the scenes enacted on the dock, except that
this time it was the groom who was getting the worst of it,
while Teddy sat on the gangway, howling with delight.
At last the donkey was subdued and led to the place where he was
to spend the night.  But they had to rope him in to prevent his
kicking the other stock through the side of the boat.
Fat Marie herself came waddling along about this time, blowing
like a miniature steam engine.
"Gangway!  Gangway!" shrieked Marie, in a high-pitched,
shrill voice.
Teddy was nearly crowded off the gangplank.
"See here, where are you going?  Don't you know there's a crazy
donkey in there?"
"Going to my cabin to seek sweet repose," squeaked Marie.
"What!  Are you going to live on this boat?"
"That's what.  If I can get up to the sky parlor where my
'boodwah' is.  Come, help me up the stairs; that's a 
good boy, Teddy."
"I helped you once.  That was enough for me.  Say, Marie?"
"What is it, my lad?"
"If the boat should be wrecked in one of the terrible storms
that sweep this raging river you had better grab the anchor the
first thing."
"Why grab the anchor?"
"You'll sink quicker," laughed the Circus Boy, darting out to the
dock and leaning against a wagon wheel.
By this time Mr. Sparling had descended from his haven of safety,
and began issuing orders again.
"Get the bulls in now.  No more nonsense.  Teddy, you did a good
job, but it took you a long time to do it."
"Yes, sir.  Do you think anybody else could have done
it quicker?"
"I know they could not.  Where is Phil?"
"Guess he went back to his cabin after I finished off January. 
Going to load the elephants, did you say?"
"Aren't you afraid they will sink the boat?"
"Don't bother us now.  You know we did not bother you when you
were trying to get your livestock in."
"I noticed that you didn't," answered Teddy, humorously, which
remark brought a shout of laughter from everyone within hearing
of his voice.
Mr. Kennedy, the elephant-trainer, now ranged his charges in
line, with Jupiter, the ill-tempered member of the herd, in
the lead.  He wanted to get Jupiter in ahead, knowing that the
others would follow willingly enough after him.  Emperor, the
great beast that had such a warm regard for Phil, was third in
"Everybody keep away and don't make a racket or they will
get nervous.  I expect to have a little trouble with those
bulls the first time.  After that they will go one board as
meek as a flock of spring mutton," declared Kennedy.  
Teddy was close at hand.  If there was any prospect of
trouble or excitement he wanted to be near enough not to
miss a single feature of it.
Mr. Kennedy gave the command for attention.
Each of the elephants to the rear of Jupiter stretched forth a
trunk and grasped the tail of the elephant directly in front 
"Forward, march!"
"Hip!  Hip!" began Teddy.
"That will do, young man," warned Mr. Sparling.
The line moved slowly forward, Jupiter offering no objection to
going where he was ordered.
Just as he reached the gangplank, however, Jupiter halted.
The elephant's trunk curled upward and a mighty trumpeting sent
the villagers scurrying for places of safety.
Mr. Kennedy prodded the elephant with the sharp point of
his hook.  The act forced Jupiter to place one foot on the
gang plank, throwing his weight upon the planking to test
its stability.  He felt it give ever so little beneath his
feet, and quickly withdrew the foot.
Once more the prod was brought into use.  Jupiter waxed angry. 
With a great cough, he curled his trunk about the heavy
gangplank, wrenching it free from its resting place.
Raising the planking high above his head he hurled it into
"Ladies and gentlemen," announced Teddy Tucker, in a loud voice,
"you have witnessed a most satisfying, edifying, gratifying,
ennobling, superb and sublime spectacular prelude, as our press
agent would say.  But, if you know what's good for you, you will
now hasten to the high places, for there's going to be something
doing around here in about a minute."
Teddy was no false prophet in this instance.
Strutting up to the angry Jupiter the Circus Boy slapped him
playfully on the trunk.
"You bad boy.  I thought January was the limit, but I have
changed my mind.  You--"
Suddenly Jupiter's trunk curled about the lad.  The angry
elephant raised the boy far above his head and hurled him up
into the air as he had done with the gangway, except that he
threw Teddy in another direction.
PHIL FORREST TO THE RESCUE
"Catch Teddy!  Catch him!" shouted Mr. Sparling.
"The boy has gone into the river!" cried half a dozen voices
"No; the bull threw him toward the boat.  He may have shot right
on over and into the water or he may still be on the upper deck,"
answered Mr. Kennedy, as he plied his prod industriously,
shouting his orders to the other elephants that already were
showing signs of restlessness.
By this time a boat had been launched from the dock, and half a
dozen men had gone in search of the lost gangway that was now
floating slowly down the river some distance away.
"Ahoy, boat!" bellowed Mr. Sparling.  "Row around to the other
side and see if Tucker is in the river."
At the same time the owner of the show was running toward 
the "Marie."  He plunged into the mass of equipment on 
the lower deck, lost his footing and went rolling under a 
lion's cage.  He was on his feet and bounding up the stairs
almost in the next second.
Just as he reached the upper deck he met Phil Forrest emerging
from the cabin, attracted by the uproar.
"What's the matter, sir?"
"Teddy," answered the showman shortly.
"Oh, that boy again!  What is it?"
"Jupiter tossed him."
"Where is he?"
"Maybe in the river.  Help me look for him up here.  They are
searching for him on the other side of the boat."
Phil started on a run along one side of the deck, Mr. Sparling
taking the other side.
"Here he is.  Ahoy, boat!  Go and get the gangway.  I have the
boy here," called Mr. Sparling.
Phil hurried over to where Mr. Sparling was bending over Teddy,
who lay doubled up against the pilot house.
"Is he hurt?"
"I don't know.  I'll tell you when I get him untangled.  He seems
to be standing on his head.  Lucky if his neck isn't broken."
"Teddy's neck is too tough to be easily broken.  I think he is
merely stunned," said Phil.
The showman straightened the Circus Boy out, and Teddy suddenly
sat up, rubbing his head and neck gingerly.
"Did January kick me?" he demanded wonderingly.
"No; Jupiter threw you up here.  Are you hurt?"
"I'm worse than that.  I'm like the carpenter who swallowed a 
tape measure.  I'm dying by inches."
Mr. Sparling uttered an impatient exclamation.
"Take care of him, Phil.  I must get back.  There is trouble 
down there."
The showman hurried away, and Phil saw at once that his companion
had sustained a severe shock, but nothing of a serious nature.
"You're all right, Teddy.  What is the trouble down there?"
Teddy, still rubbing himself, explained what had happened.
Just then there came a call from below.
"Can you come down here?"
"Of course.  What is it?"
"Mr. Sparling wants you."
"I'll be right there."
The lad, instead of taking the time to go down the companionway,
swung over the side of the boat and dropped lightly to the wharf.
Such is the advantage of being a showman.
"Mr. Kennedy is having trouble with the bulls, Phil," explained
Mr. Sparling.
"Yes; so Teddy told me."
"He thinks you may be able to suggest some way out of 
our difficulty.  Mr. Kennedy has great confidence in 
your resourcefulness."
"What have you done thus far?"
Mr. Sparling explained briefly, Phil giving close attention.
"Have they found the gangplank yet?"
"Yes; they are towing it up to the dock now."
Phil waited until they had hauled the gangway up and put it
"Will you try her, so that I can see how she works, Mr. Kennedy?"
asked the lad after the gangway had been chained down so securely
that the elephant would have difficulty in ripping it loose.
Jupiter was just as stubborn as he had been before.  
Phil observed three or four showmen standing near him 
on the other side.
"Please step back, all of you," he said.  "Mr. Sparling, will
you see that no one comes near the elephants?  I'll see what I
can do.  Back him off, Mr. Kennedy."
This done, Phil stepped back along the line until he came to the
big elephant Emperor.
"Good old Emperor," cried the Circus Boy soothingly.  "Here's a
lump of sugar."
Emperor tucked the sugar far back in his pink mouth.  Then Phil,
taking hold of the trunk, petted it affectionately, next tucking
it under his arm.
"Come along, old fellow.  You need not be afraid," he said,
starting toward the ship, with Emperor following meekly 
and obediently.  At the gangway he stopped and examined the
passageway carefully.
"Are you sure it is strong enough to support them, Mr. Kennedy?"
"Yes, it will hold two at once."
"Very well."
Once more Phil took hold of the trunk and led Emperor across and
into the boat, the elephant making no protest; though, knowing
him as he did, Phil saw that the animal was timid.  The beast's
confidence in the little Circus Boy overcame his fears, however.
Emperor got another lump of sugar as the result of his obedience.
"See if Jupiter will follow," called Phil.
Jupiter would not.
Observing this, Phil swung Emperor around and led him to
"What are you going to do?" asked Mr. Sparling.
"Perhaps nothing at all.  If Mr. Kennedy failed I do not see how
I shall be able to accomplish anything.  Get Jupiter up to the
gangway, please."
This was done.
"When I say the word, you give Jupiter the hook good and hard 
and quick.  I'll promise you that something will happen.  
See here; didn't I tell you fellows to keep away from 
those elephants?" demanded the boy, observing two figures
edging up toward Emperor.
"Clear the dock!" roared Mr. Sparling.
A sudden thought seemed to strike Phil.  He left Emperor and
stepped around to the other side of the animal walking about and
peering into the faces of the people who now were standing back
at a respectful distance.  Most of them proved to be villagers,
with a few circus people sprinkled among them.
"Did you notice who those two men were who were standing on the
other side, Mr. Sparling?" he asked in a low tone.
"I wanted to know."
"Why do you ask that question?"
"Because I am suspicious of them, that's all."
Making sure that the dock was clear, Phil led Emperor up to
Jupiter, placing the former's head against the hips of the
stubborn elephant.
"Now!" he shouted, at the same time giving Emperor the signal
The big elephant threw all his great strength into a 
forward movement.  Jupiter, taken off his guard, plunged 
across the gangplank, with Emperor pushing him along, the former
trumpeting wildly in his fear and rage.  Another minute, and
Jupiter was landed safely on the lower deck of the "Fat Marie."
ALL ABOARD FOR THE GULF!
Day was breaking.
Clouds of dense black smoke were rolling from the funnels 
of the Sparling fleet, while steam was hissing from the
overburdened safety valves.
The show was ready for its start down the river.  
The "Little Nemo" had already hoisted anchor and 
was drifting with the current awaiting the signal 
to start her engines.
"All ashore that's going," sang a voice on each of 
the two boats lying at the dock.
The boats' whistles broke out in three deafening, 
prolonged blasts each.
"Cast off!" bellowed the pilots.
Hawsers were hauled in and the distance between the dock and
the boats slowly widened.
"We're off," shouted Teddy, waving his hat joyously.
"We will be more so, unless we get some sleep," warned Phil.  
"I would suggest that you and I turn in for a few hours.  We both
need a beauty sleep."
"I don't," answered Teddy promptly.
"Think not?"
"No, sir.  I'm handsome enough as it is.  Even the fool 
donkey stands aghast when he comes face to face with my
surpassing beauty."
"How about the elephants?" twinkled Phil.
"Elephants don't count, at least not after twelve o'clock 
"I move that we turn in just the same.  We will sleep until
sometime before noon, then we can get up and enjoy the ride.  
I understand we shall not reach the next stand until sometime 
this evening.  This is going to be a great trip, Teddy."
"It has been," nodded the other boy.  "Where do we show first?"
"Milroy, I believe is the name of the place.  I never heard of 
"And probably you never will want to again, after you have 
been there.  That is the case with most of these little 
tank towns.  A fellow wonders where all the people come 
from who go to the show."
The lads went to their cabin and were soon sound asleep.  
They realized how tired they were when first they got into bed.
"This is great!" muttered Phil, as, lying in his bed, he felt the
cool air drifting in over him.
When they awakened the sun was at its zenith.
Phil consulted his watch.
"Wake up, Teddy.  It is twelve o'clock."
Teddy sleepily dragged himself from his bed, pulled himself
wearily to the window and threw open the blinds.
"Where are we?" asked Phil.
"Ask the pilot," grumbled Teddy.  "How do you suppose I know? 
This water looks like a big mud puddle.  I'm hungry; aren't you?"
"Yes, I am.  What are we going to do for breakfast?  I never
thought to bring along a lunch."
"I've got an egg," chuckled Teddy.
"You are welcome to it.  I don't care for any, thank you."
Just then there came a rap on their door.
Phil opened it and looked out.
"Mr. Sparling wishes to know if you are ready for breakfast?"
asked the man, whom they recognized as the showman's 
personal servant.
"Am I ready for breakfast?" shouted Teddy.  "Tell Mr. Sparling
he ought to know better than to ask a question like that. 
What's this, a joke?  We can't get any breakfast on this 
"Mr. Sparling directs me to ask you to join him in his cabin for
breakfast in ten minutes."
"Thank you.  Tell him we shall be on hand," smiled Phil.
"I hope it isn't a joke," grumbled Teddy, pulling on
his trousers.
"Now, isn't that fine of Mr. Sparling, old fellow?" asked Phil,
with glowing eyes.
"Tell you better after I sample the breakfast.  I'm suspicious."
"You need not be.  Mr. Sparling would not be so unkind as to
invite us to eat breakfast with him unless he had some breakfast
to offer us."
"Well, I hope it's straight," muttered the doubting Teddy.  A few
minutes later the lads presented themselves at the door of the
owner's cabin.
"Good morning, boys; how did you sleep last night?" he greeted
them, with a cordial smile and a handshake for each.
"I was dead to the world," answered Teddy, with his customary
bluntness of speech.
"I guess we all were," smiled the showman.  "All day and all
night was rather trying, but we shall not have the same trouble
after this; at least not after the next stand.  Everything should
be in excellent working order after Monday.  Sit down and have
some breakfast with me."
An appetizing meal had been spread in the cabin.  Teddy surveyed
the table with wistful eyes.
"I did not know you were going to serve meals on board,"
"I am not, generally speaking.  This is different.  I would not
ask our people to go all day without anything to eat.  I have had
a cold meal prepared in the main cabin, with hot coffee to wash
it down.  I thought you boys might like to join me here for a
real meal.  Having a real meal is one of the privileges of the
owner of the show, you know," replied Mr. Sparling, with a hearty
laugh, in which the boys joined.
"I was going to eat my egg," said Teddy humorously.
"It is very kind of you, Mr. Sparling," said Phil.  "We were just
wondering what we should do for breakfast, and Teddy, as he has
just told you, was thinking of eating the ostrich egg."
"I presume so," replied Phil, with a short laugh.
"It would make a fellow strong," declared Teddy in defense of
"I agree with you, my boy.  I ate a piece of one once, and it was
quite the strongest thing I ever tackled."
"That's a joke.  Ha, ha!" replied Teddy, with serious face.
The lads were, by this time, on such terms of intimacy with their
employer that they felt free to talk with him as they would to
each other.  At least Phil did, and in all probability Tucker
would have done so at any rate.
"Do we unload tonight, Mr. Sparling?" questioned Phil.
"No, I think not.  Tomorrow morning will be time enough.  I never
like to do any more work on Sunday than is absolutely necessary."
Phil nodded his approval.
"I believe in observing the day, and besides, our people need
the rest and the relaxation.  That reminds me of what I wanted
to say.  You did a very clever piece of work last night, both
Teddy glanced up in surprise.
"Yes; I got a roughhouse from the donkey and the elephant. 
I'm a sort of a good thing all around.  When the fool donkey
gets through wiping up a whole county with me, the elephant
takes a hand--a trunk, I mean--and lands me high and dry on
the roof of the 'Fat Marie.'"
"You mean the deck," corrected Phil.
"I don't know what you call it, but it was hard enough when I
struck it.  Next time I'm going to have a net spread to catch me.
I'll bet I would have made a hit in the ring with that donkey
wrestling bout.  I guess I will try it on some of these times,
providing I can get the donkey to work the way he did 
last night."
"As I said before, there is something I want to ask you, Phil,"
repeated the showman.
"Did it not strike you that Jupiter acted very peculiarly
last night?"
"Yes.  I did not see the first of it, but I saw enough."
"What did you think about it?"
"I did not know what to think."
The showman shot a keen glance at the Circus Boy's thoughtful,
serious face.
"What do you think today?"
"That it was perfectly natural for Jupiter to balk going across
the gangplank."
"How about him having hurled Teddy to the deck of the
'Fat Marie'?"
"That is different."
"Did it arouse any suspicions in your mind, my boy?"
Phil reflected for a moment, toying absently with his fork.
"Candidly, it did, Mr. Sparling.  It struck me as peculiar at
the time, and, as I thought it over, I became more and more
convinced that there was some reason for Jupiter's action
beyond what we saw."
The showman nodded, as if Phil's suggestion agreed with his
"What do you think happened?" he asked.
"What do you think?"
"I will confess that I don't know, Phil.  You had some reason
for driving everyone away from the bulls there on the dock,
did you not?"
"Yes, I did not want anyone to bother them while we were trying
to get them on board."
"I understand," said Mr. Sparling, with a nod.
"Did you notice who was there on the dock at the time,
Mr. Sparling?"
"No, not particularly."
"Was it some of the show people?"
"I am unable to say.  I saw you drive two men off in particular,
but I did not look at them closely.  Did you know them?"
"Perhaps.  They got away rather too quickly for me to make sure."
"Who do you think they were?"
Phil did not answer at once.
"Come, who were they, Phil?"
"I don't know, Mr. Sparling."
"I did not mean it exactly that way.  You think you recognized
them, and as I said before, I want to know who you think the
"I would rather not say, Mr. Sparling," answered the Circus Boy,
looking his employer squarely in the eye.
"It is your duty to tell me."
"Not unless I am sure.  It would be unjust to do so, and I know
you would not wish to force me to be unjust."
"You are a queer boy, Phil Forrest," said the showman, gazing at
the lad intently.
"I wish I knew who I thought they were, if they had anything to
do with my aerial flight last night," growled Teddy.  "They would
have reason to think a Kansas cyclone had struck them."
No one paid any attention to Teddy's remark.
"I will tell you what I think, however, Mr. Sparling," 
continued Phil.
"That's what I am trying to get you to do."
"I think some person with evil intent did something to Jupiter 
to anger him, thus causing him to turn on Teddy.  And it is my
opinion that if you will examine the animal you will find the
evidences on the animal himself," declared the Circus Boy boldly.
Mr. Sparling uttered an angry exclamation.
Teddy, who had tilted back in his chair as he listened to the
conversation, went crashing to the floor, overturning table,
dishes and all.
That broke up the conference of the morning.
EGG, EGG, WHO'S GOT THE EGG?
"I've lost my egg!  I've lost my egg!"
Teddy Tucker's shrill voice was heard from one end to the other
of the "Fat Marie."  An hour had elapsed since his mishap in 
Mr. Sparling's cabin, during which time the lads had been sitting
on the after deck of the boat.
Phil had been very thoughtful.  Perhaps he had not done right in
keeping his real suspicions from Mr. Sparling.  Yet he was firm
in his purpose not to say who he thought the men were.  He was
not at all certain, in his own mind, that his eyes had not
deceived him.
There could be no doubt, however, that some person or persons
had pricked Jupiter on a tender part of his anatomy just as
Teddy Tucker was patting the trunk of the great beast.
Teddy had gone to his cabin for a moment, and no sooner had he
opened the door than he discovered that all was not as it should
"What's this?  What's all this fuss about?" questioned Phil.
"My egg!  My egg!"
"What about your egg?"
"It's gone, it's gone!"
"But I thought you locked it in your trunk?"
"That's what I did."
"Then how can it be gone?"
"It is, I tell you.  Come and see, if you don't believe me."
"Of course I believe you, but I do not see how it would be
possible for your egg to be taken when it was locked in your
trunk," objected Phil.
Teddy grasped his companion by the arm and rushed him to
"There, look!" exclaimed Teddy, pushing Phil into the room.
Teddy's trunk was open, most of its contents lying in a confused
heap on the cabin floor.
Phil's face grew serious.
"Now, let's understand this.  Was your trunk in that condition
when you came in here a little while ago?"
"Are you sure?"
"Well, some of the stuff was sticking out, but the cover
"The trunk was unlocked?"
"Sure it was."
"You are positive that you locked it?"
"I know it was locked."
"Is anything missing--have you looked to make sure?"
"I tell you my egg has been taken."
"I know.  Has anything else been taken?"
"I was so excited that I didn't look."
"Then, do so now."
Teddy dropped down beside his trunk, and began going over his
belongings, most of which were lying heaped on the floor.  
He examined everything closely.
"How about it?"
"I--I guess it is all here--but my egg is not, Phil."
"So I heard you say before."
"Where is it--where is it?"
"How do you suppose I know?  You are lucky that nothing else
was taken.  Is the lock broken?"
"No.  Somebody had a key."
"Almost any key made for an ordinary trunk will fit these 
steamer trunks."  Phil proved this by selecting and trying 
three keys on his own key ring, each of which locked and 
unlooked Teddy's steamer trunk with ease.
"I'll bet you took my egg for a joke."
"Teddy Tucker, how can you say so," demanded Phil indignantly. 
"Did I ever do a thing like that?"
"No, I guess you didn't," admitted the boy.  "But it's gone."
"It is evident that we have a thief on board.  Mr. Sparling must
be informed of this at once," decided Phil firmly.  "You remain
here and I will go and fetch him."
In a few moments the Circus Boy returned with Mr. Sparling.  
The showman made a careful examination of the room and the trunk
on his own account.  His face was flushed and angry.
He went over the same ground with his questions that Phil already
"Do you suspect anyone, Phil?"
"I do not.  Whom should I suspect?  Nothing like this has
ever happened in the Sparling show since I have been
connected with it."
"You are right.  It won't be healthful for the man who is
responsible for this, if I catch him," growled the showman. 
"Somebody must be unusually fond of ostrich eggs to go to this
length for one.  If anyone in this show chances to dine on
ostrich egg in the next twenty-four hours we shall know whom to
accuse of the theft."
"I do not think you will get the opportunity," said Phil, with a
peculiar smile.
"What do you mean by that remark?"
"That it was not taken because the thief wanted to eat it.  
He would not be foolish enough to do that."
"Probably to get even with Teddy."
Mr. Sparling eyed him sternly.
"You mean somebody had a grudge against Teddy?"
Phil nodded.
"I do not know."
"Teddy, who is it in this show who has a grudge against you?"
Teddy pondered.
"I don't know of anybody unless it's January," he made
solemn reply.
"The fool donkey?  Bah!"
"I guess the donkey did not unlock your trunk and steal your egg,
Teddy," answered Phil, a half smile curling his lips.
"I am not going to ask you again whom you suspect.  I take it for
granted that you will keep your eyes open from now on."
"I certainly shall, Mr. Sparling."
"If you are unable to find out who is responsible for certain
things I am sure there is no use in my trying to do so."
"I do not know about that, Sir.  I shall try.  If I find out
anything worthwhile I shall come to you and tell you."
"I shall expect you to do so.  And, Teddy!"
"You are to say nothing of this occurrence to anyone on the boat.
Do not mention that your precious egg has been lost or stolen,
nor appear as if anything out of the ordinary had occurred."
Teddy nodded his understanding.
Mr. Sparling understood his boys better than they knew.  He was
confident that Phil Forrest had a shrewd idea as to who had
aroused the anger of the elephant, Jupiter, as well as to the
identity of the person who had stolen the egg from 
Teddy Tucker's trunk.
The Circus Boy, however, kept his own counsel.
He made a trip down to the lower deck and had a long conversation
with Mr. Kennedy, the elephant trainer, while Teddy Tucker moped
in his cabin, mourning over the loss of his egg.
The show reached Milroy shortly before dark that evening, after
a most delightful trip down the river.  The horse tents were
unloaded and pitched on the circus lot and the stock stabled in
them so the animals could get their rest and food.
Some of the show people strolled out through the little town,
while others remained on board the boat and went to bed.  
All hands slept aboard that night.  Bright and early, on the
following morning, the boats were unloaded and the tents pitched,
the men working much better for their day on the river.
Everyone appeared to be in high good humor and the wisdom of 
Mr. Sparling's methods was apparent.  The tents went up more
quickly that morning than at any time that season.
Breakfast under the cook tent was a jolly meal.  Teddy had nearly
forgotten the loss of the ostrich egg, but Phil Forrest had not.
Phil, while not appearing to do so, was watching certain persons
in the dressing tent, among them being Diaz, the Spanish clown.
During the dressing hour before the afternoon performance the
clown had his trunk open to get out some costumes which were
at the bottom, beneath the lower tray.
Phil's trunk, it will be remembered, was close by that 
of the clown's.  The Circus Boy took advantage of the
opportunity to peep into the open trunk while Diaz was
rummaging over its contents.  So absorbed did Phil become
in his own investigation that he forgot for the moment
that the owner of the trunk might resent such curiosity.
All at once Phil glanced down at the clown.  He found the
dark eyes of Diaz fixed upon him, and the lad flushed in
spite of himself.
Diaz slowly rose to his feet.  Thrusting his face close to that
of the lad he peered into the boy's face.
"What you want?"
"Nothing, thank you."
"You look for something in the trunk of Diaz, eh?"
"What for you look?"
"Maybe I was looking for an egg.  Maybe I thought the clown 
Diaz carried a supply of freshly laid eggs in his dressing-room
trunk," said Phil in a tone too low for the others to catch, all
the time holding the eyes of the clown in a steady gaze.
The eyes of the clown expressed surprise, but there was so much
grease paint and powder on his face that the boy could not tell
whether the fellow had flushed or not.
That Diaz was angry, however, was clear.
"What you mean?" demanded the clown, with a threatening gesture.
"If you do not know, I don't believe I care to explain just now."
"What you mean?" repeated the clown, his voice rising to a 
higher pitch.  "You--you think I a thief?"
"If I thought so I might be too courteous to say so," was the 
calm retort.  "What makes you imagine that I think you a thief? 
You must have some reason--you must believe there is some truth
in your self-accusation, or you would not be so quick to 
"Remember, I have not accused you of anything.  You have 
accused yourself."
Perhaps there was method in Phil's nagging--perhaps he was
trying to goad the Spaniard into an admission that could be
used against him.  If that were his purpose he had only
partly succeeded.
Diaz, who had closed the cover of his trunk with a bang, now
sprang to the trunk again, jerking up the cover with such force
as to nearly wrench it from its hinges.
Two trays came out and were hurled to the ground as the owner
dived deeper and deeper into the chest.
"What's the matter?  Have you gone crazy?" questioned Phil,
laughing in spite of himself.  "Come on, now; don't lose
your temper.  If you will stop to consider, you will recall
that I have said nothing at which you might possibly 
take offence."
To this the clown made no reply.
All at once he straightened up with a snarl that reminded Phil of
the cough of the tiger out in the menagerie as the beast struck
viciously at its keeper when the latter chanced to step too close
to the bars of the cage.
Diaz stood all a-quiver.
"This looks like trouble of some sort," muttered Phil Forrest. 
"But I don't quite understand what he could have been hunting for
in the trunk."
Phil's question was answered a few seconds later.
>From the folds of the clown's costume his hand suddenly
shot upward.  The hand held a knife.  The hand shook from
rage as the knife was brandished aloft.
"Hello, so that's the game, is it?"
The Circus Boy stood his ground unflinchingly.  He did not appear
to be disturbed in the least, though his situation at that moment
was a critical one.
"Diaz!  Diaz!  Drop that knife!" ordered Phil sternly.
Instead of obeying the command the clown leaped upon him, or upon
the spot where Phil had been standing a second before.  The lad
had sprung back far enough so that the descending knife cut only
the empty air.
Again the knife flashed up.  Just as it was being raised, the boy
leaped again.  This time he sprang toward the enraged clown,
rather than away from him.
Ere the knife could be brought down, Phil gripped the wrist
holding the weapon, giving the wrist a quick, sharp twist that
brought a roar of pain from Diaz.
The knife dropped to the ground.  Phil calmly stooped and picked
it up, while the clown was nursing his wrist and groaning.
Several performers, realizing that something out of the ordinary
was going on in that corner of the tent, hurried over.
"What's the matter here?"
"Diaz was showing me his knife.  It's a beauty, isn't it?"
answered Phil, with a pleasant smile.  "I think, however, it is
a little too pretty for a circus.  Were I in your place, Diaz,
I should keep it in my trunk else someone may steal it."
The lad coolly raised the lid of the trunk, dropping the
knife in.  The others, not noting that the clown was hurt,
and that his wrist had been twisted by the Circus Boy almost
to the breaking point, turned back to their own corners and
continued their labors preparatory to entering the ring.
"Mr. Diaz," said Phil in a low voice, bending over the clown,
"your temper is going to get you into serious trouble one of 
these fine days.  I am sorry I had to hurt you.  But let me tell
you one thing.  If you attack me again I shall be compelled to
give you the worst licking you ever had in your life.  Put that 
in one of your fool caps that you throw around the arena, so you
won't forget it.  Behave yourself and you will find that I am a
pretty good friend."
TRYING OUT A NEW ACT
"Well, Dimples, I hope you and I do not make sad exhibitions of
ourselves this evening."
"I hope not, Phil.  I am sure you will not, but I am not so sure
The afternoon performance had passed off without incident, save
that the performers had given a much better show than usual. 
Everyone felt fresh and strong after his Sunday rest.
It was now evening.  The band was playing its loudest, the clowns
were fast and furious in their fun, and the animals out in the
menagerie tent were doing their part toward raising a din that
might have been heard at least half a mile away.
Phil Forrest had already been in for his trapeze act, and
after changing his costume had come out again for the
bareback riding number, to which he always looked forward
with pleasurable anticipation.
At the same time Little Dimples, the star female bareback rider,
had come up and joined him and the two fell to talking, as they
always did whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Long ago the circus woman had constituted herself the "mother of
the Circus Boys," as she expressed it.  She always insisted on
doing their sewing for them, helped them to plan their costumes
and gave them friendly advice on all occasions.
The act which they were entering the ring to perform on this
particular evening was a new one.  The two had been practicing it
since the beginning of the season--practicing in secret that they
might put it on as a surprise to Mr. Sparling.
This was what is known as a "brother and sister act."  That is,
the strong man and woman proposed to perform on the back of the
same horse, and at the same time.
The brother and sister act was not a new act by any means,
but they had added ideas of their own to it until it had
become novel.  They had essayed some daring and sensational
features which were sure to create a sensation with any
audience before which the act was performed.
"It is a small town," said Dimples.  "We don't care if we do fall
off, do we, Phil, my boy?"
"We most certainly do care.  At least, _I_ do.  Where's your
professional pride, Dimples?" demanded Phil, with an
indulgent smile.
"In my feet, I guess," answered the woman, with a merry laugh. 
"I am making my living with my feet.  Were they not so sure,
enabling me to stand on the slippery back of a ring horse, 
I should not be drawing the fine salary that I now have.  
Neither would you."
"Here we are at the ring," interrupted Phil.  "The audience is
applauding us before we begin.  They must be expecting something
out of the ordinary."
As a matter of fact, the two riders made a very pleasing
appearance as they entered the ring.  Phil, slender, athletic,
manly; Dimples exquisitely dainty, looking almost as fragile
as a piece of Dresden china, they were a pair to attract
attention anywhere.
The spectators did not even dream that Little Dimples was a
married woman, with a son almost as old as Phil Forrest himself.
They kicked off their slippers, chalked their feet, then Phil
assisted his companion to the back of the horse.
The band struck up a lively tune, the ringmaster cracked
his whip, and Phil leaped to the back of the ring horse
beside Dimples.
"We are off," smiled the lad.
"I hope not," laughed the woman happily.
Further conversation for the moment was interrupted, for the 
time had arrived to begin their work in earnest.  The two threw
themselves into a series of graceful positions, neither very
difficult nor very dangerous, but to Mr. Sparling, who was
watching their performance from a seat directly opposite to them,
their work was more attractive than anything of the kind he ever
The next time they started in, after the brief intermission,
Phil and Dimples varied their performance by leaping from the
ring horse, then, taking a running start, jumping to the back
of the galloping animal.  Only once did Phil miss, and Dimples
She greeted his failure with a merry laugh that goaded the lad to
renewed efforts.
"Have you forgotten how to jump?" teased Dimples.
"I'll show you whether I have or not.  Keep him up close to the
ring curb and stand back as far as you can."
"What are you going to do?" she questioned suspiciously.
"Going to prove to you that I have not forgotten how to jump,"
answered Phil, with determination.
"Please don't do anything foolish," warned the dainty rider. 
"It is too early in the season to break your neck.  Just think
what you would miss were you to do so this early--think what I
should miss.  Come up here and be sensible--that's a good boy."
The ringmaster paid no attention to their chatter, which was in
tones too low for the audience to catch.
Phil placed the little jumping board in place, upon which 
the riders step just as they are leaping to the back of the 
ring horses.  Then the lad backed up.
"Keep him up lively," he said to the ringmaster.
All at once the lad started on a brisk run across the
sawdust arena.
"Yip!" encouraged Dimples.
"Yip!  Yip!" answered Phil.
The lad leaped up into the air just as if he had been hurled
there on springs.  As he leaped his legs were curled up under
him, and his working mate saw that he was not going to land 
on the back of the horse at all.  Still she dared not speak to 
him, now.  She knew that to attract Phil's attention at that
moment might mean a bad fall for him, for a performer must have
his mind on his work when attempting any dangerous feat.
To the surprise of everyone who witnessed the act, Phil Forrest
cleared the back of the ring horse, fairly flying past the
astonished eyes of Little Dimples.
He landed lightly well outside of the ring curbing, on the
The audience broke out into a roar of applause and a
ripple of hand clapping ran over the arena from the
appreciative performers.  They wholly forgot themselves
in their surprise and approval of the feat.
"Wonderful!" breathed Mr. James Sparling.  "That boy is 
worth a thousand dollars a week to any show."
"Have I forgotten how to jump?" demanded the Circus Boy
exultingly, as the ring horse slowed down to a walk, Phil
stepping along by the side of it looking up into the eyes 
of Little Dimples.
"Indeed you have not.  It was wonderful.  Don't you ever dare
try it again, however.  Why, suppose you had dropped on an iron
tent stake?  You would have at least been disabled for life."
"I presume I should have been.  I happened to know there were
no stakes where I landed.  I made sure of that before I made
"You are a wise boy, even if an imprudent one.  We try the
shoulder stand next, do we not?"
"I haven't the routine in my mind yet.  Don't you dare let
"Supposing we save the shoulder stand until the last.  Let's do
the somersault first," suggested Phil.
"Very well; I don't care."
The music started and the little couple began their work again.
Dimples sprang up to the hip of the Circus Boy, leaning far out
to one side, holding to one of Phil's hands, a very pretty though
not perilous feat for a sure-footed ride.
This they varied by throwing themselves into several
different poses.
"Now the turn," breathed Phil.
He deftly lifted the little woman down to the horse just in front
of himself.  Having done so, Phil grasped Dimples firmly about
the waist with his strong, muscular young hands.
"If you drop me I'll never speak to you again."
"I shall not drop you.  You know the cue?"
The lad nodded to the ringmaster, indicating that the latter was
to urge the horse on to a faster gallop.
"Now what are those two children going to do?" wondered the owner
of the show.  "One is as daring as the other.  It's a wonder they
have gone along without knocking themselves out.  I believe they
are going to do a turn."
That was exactly what they were preparing.  "Now," said
Phil sharply.
The pair rose from the back of the ring horse as one person.  
They leaped gracefully and deliberately into the air, doubled
their legs under them and performed one of the most graceful
somersaults that had ever been seen in the Sparling shows,
landing lightly and surely on the resined back of the old
Dimples sat down, and Phil, dropping lightly to the ground,
threw a kiss to the audience.
The spectators, fully appreciating what had been done, went
fairly wild in their enthusiasm.
Mr. Sparling was no less so.  In his excitement he forgot time
and place and ran into the ring, where he threw an arm about
Phil Forrest, giving him a fatherly hug.
Dimples pouted prettily.
"That's what I call partiality," she complained.
Mr. Sparling promptly lifted her from the back of her horse, 
and stood the blushing little performer on the sawdust by the
side of Phil.
How the spectators did applaud, many standing up in their seats
waving hats and handkerchiefs in their excitement and enthusiasm!
Mr. Sparling was always doing these little, intensely human 
things, not with any idea of winning applause, but out of 
sheer big-heartedness.  They did much toward spreading the 
reputation of the Sparling show and popularizing it as well.
"Ladies and gentlemen," announced the showman when quiet had once
more been restored, "you will pardon me for interrupting the
performance, but as the owner of the show I want to say a few
words on behalf of my star performers, Little Dimples and Master
Phil Forrest."
The audience interrupted him with a cheer.
"The act which you have just witnessed is as great a surprise
to me as it could possibly have been to you.  It is the first
time these two performers ever attempted it in public.  I might
say, also, that it is the first time to my own knowledge that
any performers in the world ever succeeded in getting away with
a feat of that sort.  I thank you for your approval.  
The performance will now proceed."
After the applause which this little speech elicited had died
away the band once more began to play.
Phil and Dimples commenced a series of acts, jumping from and to
the back of the horse whose speed was increased for the purpose.
In the next rest Dimples called the attention of her associate to
the clown Diaz, who was not far from them at the moment.
Dimples had been in the show business so long that her intuition
had become very keen.  Nothing of consequence happened under the
big top, or beneath the low-roofed dressing tents, that she did
not know of, or at least surmise.  Especially keen was she in all
matters relating to Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker, and her
interest had in many instances served to save the lads from
unpleasant consequence.
"I don't like that fellow, Phil," Dimples remarked, referring
"I think he is a bad man."
"I hope not.  He is impulsive and--"
"Revengeful and ugly," finished Dimples.
"As I said, he is impulsive, like all of his race."
"What has been going on with you lately, Phil?"
"I don't understand what you mean?"
"Oh, yes, you do."
"You mean with regard to Diaz?"
"That's what I mean.  Have you had any trouble?"
"We had a slight disagreement," admitted the lad.
"Tell me about it."
"Wait!  There goes the music."
The ringmaster's whip cracked its warning and the gray horse
started at a slow gallop.  Phil was up beside his companion with
agility and grace.  The first round or two they stood poised on
the horse, while Phil related briefly what had taken place
between himself and Diaz.
"Come, aren't you two going to get to work?" demanded 
the ringmaster.
"You attend to your own work.  We'll look out for ours," 
snapped Dimples.
"Yes, and if you think you can do better just come up and try,"
added Phil, with a good-natured laugh.  "Up, Dimples!"
He threw her lightly to his shoulders, on which the woman stood
poised, making as graceful and pretty a picture as had ever been
seen in a circus ring.  Fragile as she was, it seemed as if Phil
were all too slender to support her weight.
The act brought a whirlwind of applause.
"You look out for him, Phil.  I--"
"Jump, Dimples!"
The ring horse had suddenly stumbled, its nose plowing up the
sawdust in a cloud.
Phil, with rare presence of mind, lifted the feet from his
shoulders and hurled the girl far from him.
"Land on your feet!" he shouted, then Phil plunged off,
CHAPTER XIII
A NARROW ESCAPE
Thanks to Phil's presence of mind, Dimples had landed lightly on
her feet well outside the ring curbing.  Had the lad held to her
ankles even a second too long the result must have been serious,
if not fatal, for Dimples would have been hurled to the ground
As it was, Phil gave her a lift, enabling her to double and
"ball," a circus term meaning to curl one's feet up under the
body, then straighten them as needed to give the body balance
either in turning a somersault or in falling.
In doing so, however, Phil had had no thought for his own safety.
He plunged forward over the head of the ring horse, striking the
ground on his head and face.
The force of his fall had been broken somewhat by his quickly
throwing out his hands in front of him and relaxing the muscles
of his body.  Circus performers soon learn how to fall--how to
make the best of every situation with which they are confronted.
Despite this, his fall had been a severe and dangerous one.
"There, he has done it!  I knew he would," cried Mr. Sparling,
rushing to the ring.  Quick as he was, Dimples was ahead of him. 
She leaped the ring curbing and dropped down beside him, not
caring for the dust and the dirt that soiled her pretty costume.
"Phil!  Phil!" she cried.
Phil did not answer at the moment.
"Is he hurt--is he killed?" demanded Mr. Sparling excitedly.
"Of course he is hurt.  Can't you see he is?" answered
Dimples testily.
She turned the boy over and looked into his face.  The dirt 
was so ground into the handsome, boyish face as to make it 
scarcely recognizable.
"Lift him up.  Get some of the attendants to carry him back!"
commanded the woman impatiently.
"No, no!" protested Phil in a muffled voice, for his mouth
was full of sawdust and dirt.  "I'm all right.  Don't worry
"He's all right," repeated the showman.  "I'll help you
Phil, like the plucky performer that he was, declined their
offers of assistance and struggled to his feet.  He was dizzy and
staggered a little, but after a moment succeeded in overmastering
his inclination to faint.
A fleck of blood on his lips showed through makeup and sawdust.
"I'm all right.  Don't worry about me," he said, with a
forced smile.
Dimples sought to brush the dirt from his face with her
handkerchief, but he put her aside gently, and, with a low bow,
threw a kiss to the audience.
Their relief was expressed in a roar of applause.
Phil staggered over to where the ring horse still lay near the
center of the ring and knelt down beside it, examining the leg
that was doubled up under the animal.
The ringmaster cracked his whip lash as a signal for the animal
to get up, but the faithful old horse, despite its efforts to
rise, was unable to do so.
"What is the matter with him?" demanded Mr. Sparling.
"Jim has broken a leg, I think," answered Phil sadly.  "Too bad,
The lad patted the head of the horse and ran his fingers through
the grey mane.  Tears stood in Phil Forrest's eyes, for he had
ridden this horse and won most of his triumphs on its resined
back during the past three years.
"Dimples, I guess we have ridden Jim for the last time," said
Phil in a low voice.  "Hadn't you better start the other acts, 
Mr. Sparling.  The audience will become uneasy."
"Yes, yes," answered the showman, waving his hand to the band,
a signal that they were to play and the show to go on as usual. 
"Are you sure, Phil--sure Jim has not merely strained the leg?"
"I am sure.  He never will perform again."
Dimples brushed a hand across her eyes.
"I shall cry when I get back to my dressing tent.  I know I
shall," she said, with a tremor in her voice that she strove
Then Dimples smiled bravely, waving a hand at the audience,
though her heart was sad.
"What had we better do with him, Phil?"
"We can do nothing at present--not until the show is ended.  
Then, there is only one thing to do."
"You mean he will have to be--"
"Yes, Dimples, he will have to be shot," answered Phil.
"But the audience?"
"Have a couple of attendants come in here and pretend to be
working over Jim.  That will make the audience think the animal's
foot is injured rather than fatally hurt," suggested 
Phil Forrest.
"A good idea," said Mr. Sparling, giving the necessary orders.
Tell them not to disturb the spot, not trample it down.
"Why?" questioned the showman in surprise.
"I'll tell you later.  I have my own reasons."
Phil motioned to Teddy to approach.
"Sit down here in the ring and watch the horse and the men around
him," directed the Circus Boy.  "I'll tell you why later."
The show went on with a snap and dash.  Meanwhile, Phil, his
clothes torn, his face grimy with dirt, started down the
concourse toward the pad room, hand in hand with Little Dimples.
Their progress was a triumphal one so far as the audience was
concerned, for the people cheered them all the way and until the
slender riders had disappeared behind the crimson curtain just
beyond the bandstand.
Phil quietly washed the dirt from his face, and pulling on
his street clothes over his ring costume, started to reenter
At that moment Mr. Sparling came hurrying in.  The two met in the
"Phil, how did that accident happen?" demanded the showman.
"You saw it, did you not, Mr. Sparling?"
"Yes.  But I was unable to understand how it occurred."
"That is exactly what is bothering me," answered the lad, with a
peculiar smile that the owner of the show was not slow to catch.
"You suspect something?"
"I suspect I got a bump that I shan't forget soon," laughed the
Circus Boy.  "It is a wonder I did not break my neck."
"You undoubtedly saved Dimples' life at the risk of your own.  
You are the pluckiest lad--no, I'll say the pluckiest _man_ I
have ever known."
"Don't make me blush, Mr. Sparling."
"Nevertheless, I wish you wouldn't take chances on that
act again.  Give the audience the same old act and they
will be satisfied with that."
"Didn't you like the act?"
"It was the finest exhibition of its kind that I ever saw.  
I hope neither the Ringlings, nor Barnum and Bailey, nor any
of the big shows get a peep at that act."
"Because were they to do so I would be sure to lose my little
star performers right in the middle of the season," laughed
"Oh, I hardly think so.  I do not wish to leave this show. 
Had it not been for you I should still be doing chores for
my board and clothes back in Edmeston.  Now wouldn't that
"Very," grinned the showman.
"Whatever I have accomplished I have you to thank for."
"You mean you owe to your own brightness and cleverness. 
No, Phil, you are a boy who would have succeeded anywhere. 
They can't keep you down--no, not even were they to sit 
"If Fat Marie, with her five hundred and odd pounds, were 
to sit on me, I rather think I would be kept down," answered
the Circus Boy, with a hearty laugh in which Mr. Sparling 
joined uproariously.
"What is Teddy doing out in the ring?"
"I left him there to keep an eye on the injured horse."
"Why, Phil?"
"Until I could get back and make an examination."
"Very well; I want to see you after you have done so."
"I will look you up."
With that Phil hurried out into the arena.  None of the
spectators appeared to recognize the lad in his street clothes. 
Besides, he tried to avoid observation.  He might have been one
of the spectators, except that he picked his way, among the ropes
and properties down through the center, where the public were not
allowed to go.
"The rest of you may go," said Phil, reaching the ring where
Jim lay breathing heavily.  "Thank you for easing off old Jim. 
I know he appreciates it."
Jim looked up pleadingly as Phil bent over him, patting the
animal on his splendid old gray head.
The attendants went about their duties.
"How'd this happen, Phil?" questioned Teddy.
"I fell off; that's what happened."
"Yes, I know you did, but there's more to it.  I wonder if it's
got anything to do with the loss of my egg?"
"I guess not."
"You guess not?  Well, I know something, Phil."
"I should hope you do."
"I mean about this accident."
Phil gazed at his companion keenly.
"What do you know?"
"Look here," said Teddy, pointing to a depression in the
sawdust arena.
Phil bent over, examining the spot closely.  When he rose, his
lips were tightly compressed and his face was pale.
"Don't mention this to anyone, Teddy.  Promise me?"
" 'Course I won't tell.  Why should I?  But I found out about it,
"Yes; at least you have made a pretty good start in 
that direction.  I shall have to tell Mr. Sparling.  
It would not be right to keep this information from him."
"N-n-o-o.  Then maybe he'll organize a posse to hunt for my egg."
"Oh, hang your old egg!"
The Roman chariot races were on, the rattle of the wheels, the
shouts of the drivers drowning the voices of the two boys.
"Teddy, you'll have to get back and change your clothes.  
The performance is about over.  That makes me think.  I have on 
my ring clothes under this suit and I must hurry back to my bath
and my change."
The performance closed and the rattle and bang of tearing down
the big white city had begun.  The boys were engaged in packing
their trunks now, as were most of their fellow performers.
"What's that?" demanded Teddy, straightening up suddenly.
"Somebody fired a shot," answered another performer.
Phil knew what it meant.
A bullet had ended the sufferings of the faithful old ring horse
off under the big top.  The Circus Boy turned away, with a
blinding mist in his eyes.
"Poor old Jim!" he groaned.
Off under the women's dressing tent another pair of ears had
heard and understood, and Little Dimples, burying her head in
her hands wept softly.
"Poor old Jim!" she, too, murmured.
THE PILOT GETS A SURPRISE
The happiness of the day had been marred by the accident, 
but, like true circus men, all hands took the disaster in 
the matter-of-fact manner characteristic of their kind.
The show people, in couples and singly, took their way to the
river, where they boarded the boats.  Already wagons were
rumbling down on the docks and cages were being quickly shunted
into position for their journey down the river that night.
Everything moved with as much method as if the show had been
traveling in this way from the beginning of the season.
The performers were enjoying the novel experience of river
traveling too thoroughly to turn into their berths early.  A cold
lunch had been spread in the main cabins of the "Marie" and the
"River Queen" for the performers, while from the cook tent,
baskets had been prepared and sent in for the use of the laborers
after they had completed their night's work and finished loading
All this was appreciated, and it was a jolly company that lined
the tables in the two larger boats.  Leather upholstered seats
were built into the sides of the cabin, and with mouths and hands
full, the circus people soon took possession of the seats, where
they ate and chatted noisily.
"Funny thing about Jim," said one of the performers.  "What do
you suppose made him fall, Mr. Miaco?"
"I don't know.  Probably for the same reason that anyone falls."
"What is that?"
"Stumbled over something, I guess."
"Hey, Teddy, what ailed the ring horse?" called a voice as
the Circus Boy sauntered in and espying the tables made a
dive for them.
"I guess he was hungry," mumbled Teddy, his mouth full of
ham sandwich.
"What makes you think that?"
" 'Cause he bit the dust."
A general groan was heard in the cabin.
"Throw him overboard!"
"I know a better way to punish him for that ghastly joke."
"Take the food away from him, tie him up and make him watch us
eat," was the answer.
A shout of laughter greeted the proposition.
The pilot of the "Marie," a heavily bearded man named Cummings,
broke out in a loud guffaw.
All eyes were turned upon him.
"I reckon I kin tie him up if you says the word," he volunteered.
"All right; tie him up," shouted the performers, scenting fun.
Teddy eyed the pilot out of the corners of his eyes and placidly
munched his sandwich.  The pilot, in the meantime, had stepped to
the rear end of the cabin, where, from a box of life-preservers
he took a piece of Manila rope.
"I believe he is going to do it," said a clown, nudging 
his companion.
"You mean he is going to try it," answered the other.  "Watch for
some fun.  He thinks Teddy is an easy mark."
"He will be in this case.  That fellow, Cummings, is hard as a
rail fence.  He could handle two of Teddy."
In the meantime Tucker had strolled to the table, from which he
took a large sandwich, buttered it well, then returned to his
seat, not appearing to observe the pilot's movements at all.
As he sat down the lad was observed to open the sandwich,
removing the thin slice of ham and stowing the latter in his
coat pocket.  Then he sat thoughtfully contemplating the two
pieces of buttered bread as if trying to decide whether or not
he should eat them.
"Get up, kiddie," said Cummings, grasping the boy by
the shoulder.  "Get up and take your punishment like
a little dear."
Teddy got up, carelessly, indifferently, while the pilot
stretched the rope to its full length.
The boy saw that he was in earnest.
Quick as a flash Teddy had plastered one half of the sandwich,
buttered side in, right over the eyes of Cummings.
The second half of the sandwich landed neatly over his mouth,
pressed home by a firm fist.
Cummings could not speak, neither could he see.  At that moment 
he was perhaps the most surprised man on the Mississippi River. 
At least he appeared to be, for he stood still.  He stood still
just a few seconds too long.
Teddy had seized the rope.  With it he made a quick twist about
the body of the pilot, taking two turns, then drawing the rope
tight and tying it, thus pinioning the hands and arms of the
pilot to his sides.
"Yip-yeow!" howled Teddy.
The show people shrieked with delight.
"You'll tie up a Circus Boy, will you?" jeered Teddy. 
"You'll have to grow some first.  No Rube with a bunch of
whiskers on his face like that ever lived who could tie up
a real circus man."
Teddy had drawn nearer to impress his words upon the pilot, when
all of a sudden the man's hands gripped the lad.  The boy never
had felt quite so strong a grip on his body.  Cummings had not
handled a pilot wheel on the Mississippi for thirty years without
acquiring some strength in hands and arms.
Teddy, failing to pull away, grappled with his antagonist, 
all in the best of humor, though his face bore its usual 
solemn expression.
"Gangway," cried Teddy humorously.  "I'm going to give him a bath
in the river."
Then began a lively scrimmage.  Back and forth the combatants
struggled across the cabin floor, the growls of the pilot drowned
in the shouts and jeers of the performers.
All at once, Teddy tripped his antagonist and the two went down
into a heap, rolling under the main table on which the lunch had
been spread.
"Look out for the table!" warned a voice.
"Sit on it, some of you fellows, and hold it down!"
The suggestion came too late.  The table suddenly rose into the
air, landing upside down with a crash, at one side of the cabin. 
A moment more and the two combatants were wrestling on roast beef
and ham sandwiches, potato salad and various other foods.
"I guess this has gone about far enough," decided Mr. Miaco, 
the head clown.  "We'll have a fight on our hands, first thing 
we know.  If Teddy really gets angry you'll think the 'Sweet
Marie' is in the midst of a cyclone."
"The 'Fat Marie,' you mean," corrected a voice.
With the assistance of two others Miaco succeeded in
separating the combatants, after which he untied the rope,
releasing the pilot.
Teddy was grinning broadly, but Cummings was not.  The latter was
glowering angrily at his little antagonist.
"Shake?" asked Teddy, extending a hand.
"No, I'm blest if I will!  I'll not shake hands with anybody who
has insulted me by buttering my face," growled the pilot.
"You'll be better bred if you are well buttered,"
suggested Teddy.
"Oh, help!" moaned The Fattest Woman on Earth.
"Put him out!  Put him out!" howled several voices in chorus.
"Yes, that's the thing!  We can stand for some things some of the
time, but we won't stand for everything all of the time," added 
a clown wisely.
Half a dozen performers picked Teddy up bodily, bore him to one 
of the open windows and dumped him out on the deck.
"Here, what's all this commotion about?" commanded Phil, who, 
at that moment, came from his cabin to the deck.
"They threw me out," wailed Teddy.
"I made a pun."
"Tell it to me."
Teddy in short, jerky sentences, related what had been done
and said.  Phil leaned against the rail and shouted.
"I--I don't blame them," he gasped between laughs.  "It is a
wonder they did not throw you overboard."
"They had better not try it."
"But what about the pilot--what happened to him?"
"May--maybe they have put him out, too."
"You have a way of getting into trouble, Teddy.  Mr. Cummings
will love you for what you have done to him, I can well imagine."
"About as much as I love him, I guess.  He got too bold, Phil.  
He had to have a lesson and Teddy Tucker was the boy who had to
teach it to him.  Say, go in and gather me a sandwich out of the
wreck, will you?"
"Not I.  Go and get your own sandwich.  I'm going to see 
Mr. Sparling in his cabin.  He has sent for me."
Teddy sat out on deck while the others were picking up the table,
the dishes and the ruined food.  It would not do for Mr. Sparling
to come in and see how they had wasted the food he had had
prepared for them.  The probabilities were that they would get no
more, were he to do so.  Teddy watched the proceedings narrowly
from the safe vantage point of the deck.
In the meantime Phil had gone to Mr. Sparling's cabin, where the
showman was checking up the day's receipts.
"A pretty good day, Phil," smiled Mr. Sparling.
"I am glad to hear that, sir."
"Two thousand dollars in the clear, as the result of our two
performances today.  Do you know of any other business that would
pay as much for the amount invested, eh, Phil?"
"I do not, sir."
"You see, it is a pretty good business to be in after all,
provided it is run on business principles, at the same time
treating one's employees like human beings."
"How would you like to have an interest in a show?"
"I am going to, someday.  It may be a long time yet before I have
earned money enough, but I shall if I live," said the Circus Boy
quietly but with determination.
"So you shall.  I intend to have a talk with you on this subject,
one of these days.  What I wanted to talk with you about is 
Jim's loss.  I am glad it wasn't your ring horse, Phil.  Have you
anything to say about the animal breaking his leg?"
"Out with it."
"Somebody is to blame for that accident."
"Someone planned that accident."
"Teddy and myself examined the ring, that is, Teddy already had
done so before I returned, and he discovered something--we both
decided what must have happened."
"Yes," urged the showman as Phil paused.
"A round hole about a foot deep had been dug in the ring.  
This had been covered with a shingle and the sawdust sprinkled
over to hide the shingle.  It was a deliberate attempt to do
someone an injury."
Mr. Sparling eyed him questioningly.
"Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be.  Jim didn't happen to step on the
shingle until we were doing the pyramid, then of course
something happened.  It is a wonder that neither Little
Dimples nor myself was injured."
"Phil, we simply must find out who is responsible for this
dastardly work."
"And when we do--when we do--"
"What then, Mr. Sparling!"
The showman was opening and closing his fingers nervously.
"Don't ask me," he replied in a low, tense voice.  "I don't want
to see the man.  I should do something I would be sorry for all
the rest of my life.  Good night, Phil."
Phil Forrest left the cabin and strode thoughtfully away to his
own room, where he was soon in bed.  Phil, however, did not sleep
very well that night.
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR
The boats of the Sparling fleet had been moving steadily
downstream for several hours, their passengers, in the majority
of instances, sound asleep, lulled by the gentle motion and the
far away "spat, spat, spat," of the industrious paddle wheel at
the stern of each craft.
Teddy had prudently kept away from the main cabin for the rest 
of the evening; when Phil turned in, Teddy was sleeping sweetly. 
His active part in the affair in the cabin had not caused him 
any loss of sleep.
With the pilot, Cummings, however, matters had been different. 
Mr. Cummings had been steadily at the wheel of the "Marie" since
the boats had sailed shortly after one o'clock in the morning.
The pilot's temper had suffered as the result of his experience
in the cabin, and the jeers aud laughter of the circus people had
not added to his peace of mind.  At intervals he would break out
into a tirade of invective and threats against Teddy Tucker, who
had so humiliated him.
"I'll get even with that little monkey-face!  They ought to put
him in the monkey cage where he belongs," growled the pilot,
giving the wheel a three-quarter turn to keep the boat from
driving her prow into the bank, for which he had been steering
to avoid a hidden sand bar.
"I'll tell the manager tomorrow, that if he doesn't keep that
boy away from me, I'll take the matter into my own hands and
give that kid a trouncing that will last him till we get to 
New Orleans."
The darkness of the night, just before the dawn, hung over the
broad river.  Doors and windows of the pilot house were thrown
open so that the wheelman might get a clear view on all sides.
All at once Cummings seemed to feel some presence near him.  
He thought he caught the sound of a footfall on the deck.  
To make sure he left the wheel for a few seconds, peering out
along the deck, on both sides of the pilot house.
He saw no one.  The air was filled with a black pall of smoke
from the "Marie's" funnel, the smoke settling over the boat,
wholly enveloping her from her stack to the stern paddle wheel.
"Huh!" grunted the pilot, returning to his duties.
Yet his ears had not deceived him.  Something was near him, a
strange shape, the like of which never had been seen on the deck
of the "Fat Marie", in all her long service on the Mississippi.
"If that fool boy comes nosing around here I'll throw him
overboard--that's what I'll do," threatened Cummings.  "I'll show
him he can't fool with the pilot of the finest steamboat of the
old line.  I--"
The pilot suddenly checked himself and peered out to starboard.
"Wha--what?" he gasped.
Something darkened the doorway.  What he now saw was a strange,
grotesque shape that looked like a shadow itself in the uncertain
light of the early morning.
"Get out of here!" bellowed the pilot, the cold chills running up
and down his spine.
The most frightful sound that his ears had ever heard, broke
suddenly on the quiet of the Mississippi night.
"It's the lion escaped!"
Cummings grabbed a stout oak stick that lay at hand--the stick
that now and then, when battling with a stiff current, he used 
to insert between the spokes of the steering wheel to give him
greater leverage.
With a yell he brought the stick down on the head of the 
strange beast.  The roar or bray of the animal stopped suddenly.
Whack! came the echo from the club.
Cummings sprang back.  He slammed the pilot-house door in the
face of the beast, and closed the windows with a bang that shook
the pilot house.  In his excitement the pilot rang in a signal to
the engineer for full speed astern.
About that time something else occurred.
With a terrific crash one of the windows of the pilot house was
shattered, pieces of glass showering in upon the pilot like a
sudden storm of hail.
Another window fell in a shower about him.  He tried to get the
door on the opposite side of the pilot house open, but locked it
instead and dropped the key on the floor.
All this time the "Fat Marie's" paddle wheel was backing water
and the craft, now swung almost broadside to the stream, was
working her way over toward the Iowa shore.
A section of the pilot-house door fell shattering on the inside,
and what sounded like a volley of musketry, rattled against the
harder woodwork of the pilot house itself.
Frightened almost out of all sense, Cummings began groping
excitedly for his revolver.  At last he found it, more by
accident than through any methodical search for it.
The pilot began to shoot.  Some of his bullets went through the
roof, others through the broken out windows, while a couple
landed in the door.
At last the half-crazed Cummings was snapping the hammer on 
empty chambers.  He had emptied his revolver without hitting
anything more than wood and water.
The fusillade from the outside still continued.
By this time the din had begun to arouse the passengers on 
the boat.  Phil Forrest was the first to spring up.  He shook
Teddy by the shoulder, but, being unable to awaken his companion,
jerked the boy out of bed and let him drop on the floor.
"Get a net!  What's the matter down there!" yelled Teddy. 
"Hey, hey, did the mule kick me?  Oh, that you Phil? 
What's the row--what has happened?"
"I don't know.  Come on out.  Something has gone wrong.  
Hear those shots?"
"Wow!  Trouble!  That's me!  I knew I couldn't dream about angels
without something breaking loose."
Phil had thrown the door open and bounded out to the deck. 
Just as he did so the pilot leaped from the front window of
the pilot house, climbed over the rail and dropped to the 
deck below.  The volleying, the thunderous blows 
still continued.
A loud bray attracted their attention to the other side of
"What's that?" demanded Phil, starting off in that direction.
"It's January!  It's January!" howled Teddy Tucker.  "I would
know that sweet voice if I heard it in the jungles of Africa. 
Where is he?"
"Over here somewhere.  Come on.  I can't imagine what
has happened."
"The animals have escaped.  There's a lion on the hurricane
deck!" they heard a voice below shout in terrified tones.
"Do you think that's it?" called Phil.
"Lion, nothing!  Didn't I tell you I knew that voice?  There he
is now.  See him hand out the hoofs at the pilot house.  He must
have a grudge against Cummings.  I know.  He's paying the fellow
back for trying to tie me up."
"But--but, how did he ever get up here?"
"Go it, January!  Kick the daylights out of him!  I'll give you a
whole peck of sugar if you kick the house into the river, pilot
"Whoa!  Whoa, January!" shouted Phil.
The donkey, for it was January himself, and not a savage 
beast that was acting the part of a battering ram and rapidly
demolishing the pilot house, paused for a second; then, moving 
to a new position, he began once more hammering at the structure.
"How did he ever get up here, Teddy?"
"I don't know.  I know I am glad he did, that's all.  
Let him kick."
"I'm going to try to catch him."
"Keep away, Phil.  He'll have you in the river.  He has a fit. 
Wait till he comes out of it."
"Why, the boat is moving backwards," cried Phil.
"Yes, it is."
"Maybe January has kicked the machinery out of gear."
The circus people were by this time on deck, and, like Teddy and
Phil, many of them were in their pajamas.  They had heard the
cry, "the animals have escaped," and many of the people were
gazing apprehensively about.
"It's all right," shouted Teddy.  "It is only January, taking his
morning exercise."
About that time Phil, who had run around to the other side of
the pilot house, discovered that it was empty.  There was no
pilot there.
Understanding came to him instantly.  January had either kicked
or frightened Cummings out.
"The boat is running wild!" he called.  "Find the pilot or we
shall be on the shore before we know it."
Phil did not wait for them to find the pilot.  Instead, he
climbed in through one of the broken windows and grasped
"I've got to stop this going astern first of all," he decided.
He could see the banks now, and they seemed perilously near in
the faint morning light.  The other boats of the fleet were
steaming up in answer to the signals of distress that Cummings
had blown in his excitement.
"What is it?  Are you sinking?" called a voice through a
megaphone from the deck of the "River Queen."
"No, we are all right," answered Phil, leaning out of the window.
"You'll be high and dry on the Iowa shore if you don't
watch sharp.  Where are you going?"
"Don't know.  Keep out of the way or we're liable to run
Phil grabbed a bell pull and gave it a violent jerk.  The engines
stopped suddenly, to the Circus Boy's great delight.  January had
ceased his bombardment and now stood with head thrust though one
of the broken windows, gazing in inquiringly at Phil Forrest.
"If one bell stopped the engine, another bell should be the
signal to go ahead," reasoned the lad, giving the bell pull two
quick jerks.  He was right.  The machinery started and he could
hear the big paddle wheel beating the river into a froth.
The lower deck was in an uproar.  Men were shouting and running
about, trying to discover what animals had escaped, as the pilot
insisted that the hurricane deck was alive with them.
"Get that pilot up here, if you have to drag him.  I don't know
where the channel is, and I am liable to put the whole outfit
aground any minute," shouted Phil Forrest.  "Teddy, never mind
that idiotic donkey.  We're in a fix.  Get downstairs, at one
jump, and see that the pilot is brought up here lively."
"I'll fetch him.  You watch me," answered the irrepressible
Teddy, starting off on a run.
January had all at once grown very meek.  He stood gazing
thoughtfully off over the river.
"What is the trouble here?" roared Mr. Sparling dashing up to the
pilot house at that moment.
"That is exactly what I have been trying to find out," answered
the Circus Boy.
"What, _Phil?_"
"Yes, it's Phil."
"What are you doing in there?"
"Steering the boat."
"Piloting the--where is the pilot?"
"Somewhere below.  I have sent Teddy after him.  You see,
January was trying to kick the pilot house off the boat and into
the river.  The pilot, thinking the animals had escaped, fled. 
When I came up this craft was traveling astern and January was
making a sieve of this little house.  I have got the 'Marie'
going forward, but I may run her aground if he doesn't come
along pretty soon."
Mr. Sparling reached the companionway in two bounds, and, leaping
to the lower deck, caught the pilot by the coat collar, shaking
off the two circus men who had hold of Cummings.
"You get up to that pilot house or you'll be in the worst fix
in your whole river career."  Mr. Sparling accompanied the
words with a violent push that sent the pilot headlong toward
the stairway.  But the showman was by the fellow's side by the
time he had gotten to his feet, and began assisting him up the
companionway, while Teddy Tucker followed, prodding the pilot
in the back with a clenched fist.
Into the pilot house they hurled the man, Cummings.
"Now, you steer!  If it had not been for that boy we might have
lost our whole equipment.  I don't care anything about your old
boat, but I'm blest if I am going to let a fool pilot wreck 
us--a pilot who is afraid of a donkey."
"I'll quit this outfit tomorrow," growled Cummings.  "I kin pilot
steamers, but I can't fight a menagerie and a pack of boys with
the very Old Nick in them.  Get away from that wheel!" he
commanded, thrusting Phil aside.
Mr. Sparling had him by the collar once more.
"You do that again, and I'll take it out of you right here!"
declared the showman savagely.
"I'll bet he's the fellow who stole my egg," declared Teddy,
eyeing the pilot sternly.
BETRAYED BY A SNEEZE
"How did that beast get up here?" demanded Mr. Sparling.
"Who, Cummings?" asked Teddy innocently.
"No, no!  The donkey."
"Oh!  Maybe he came up through the smoke stack.  If you will look
at it you may find donkey tracks on the inside of the stack."
"That will do, that will do, young man."
It was found upon investigation that January had gnawed his
halter until only a thin strand held it together, which was easy
for the donkey to break.  Then he began an investigation of the
boat, ending by his climbing the broad staircase and frightening
Next morning the pilot house looked as though it had been through
a shipwreck.  The whole craft, in fact the entire fleet, was
laughing at the expense of Cummings, who now kept to himself,
studiously avoiding the other people.  January was tied up with 
a dog chain after that, and was not heard from again during any
trip of that season; that is, beyond his regular acts in the
sawdust arena.
The next day Phil Forrest began his investigation in earnest.  
He knew that Mr. Sparling looked to him to discover who had
caused so much trouble in the show, besides which, Phil took a
personal interest because of the attempt that had been made on
the lives of Little Dimples and himself.
Teddy suggested that he go through the pilot's belongings,
expressing the firm belief that they would find the ostrich egg
were they to do so.
Phil consulted Little Dimples, that afternoon, as to her opinion
of the occurrences of the past week, but the star bareback rider
could shed no light on them, beyond the fact that certain people
with whom Phil had had difficulties might bear watching.
"That's what I think," answered the Circus Boy.  "I do not like 
to accuse anyone unjustly, but I have these suspicions of the
Spanish clown."
"Have you mentioned your suspicion to Mr. Sparling, Phil?"
"Do you intend to do so?"
"Not unless I find some facts to support my suspicion."
"You will get to the bottom of the mystery, I am sure," smiled 
"I am not so sure.  Why do you think so?"
"Because you are one of the cleverest boys I ever knew,
that's why.  I should hate to have you on my track if I
were guilty of any particular crime that you were trying to
run down.  I should expect to land in jail, and I think I
should come straight to you and give myself up," added the
woman with a merry laugh.
"I wish I were all that you think I am, Dimples."
"You are.  You saved my life again yesterday.  I'm going to 
pay you back, however.  Someday, when you fall overboard,
Little Dimples is going to jump right in and rescue you--haul
you out by the hair of your head--"
"You can't, it is cut too short."
"Then I will pull you out by an ear."
"I shall make it my business to fall in, then, at the first
opportunity," laughed Phil.  "It would be worthwhile."
Dimples gave him a playful tap.
"You can turn a compliment as well as you can do a turn in the
ring, can't you Phil Forrest?"
Despite their narrow escape from serious accident, Phil and
Dimples went through their double act in the ring that day and
evening with perfect confidence.  Previous to going on, Phil had
had a ring attendant go over the sawdust circle on his hands and
knees, making a careful examination of it, to be sure that the
ring had not been tampered with.
>From that time on until the act went on, the ring was watched,
though Phil did not believe the miscreant would attempt to lay
another trap for him so soon.  Still, he took nothing 
for granted.
That night after the performance, the air being warm and balmy,
the Circus Boy strolled out on the lot, sitting down on a little
knoll to think matters over.  There was plenty of time, for the
boat would not leave for two or three hours, and Phil wanted to 
Lights were twinkling on the lot like fireflies.  There was
shouting and singing, but little of this conveyed itself to Phil,
for his mind was on other things.
All at once he pricked up his ears.  He caught the sound of
running footsteps.
"Someone is coming this way," he muttered.  "I wonder what
that means?  Surely none of the circus people would come here. 
They would go around by the road."
The lad concealed himself behind the knoll, peering over the top
of it.  He resolved not to show himself until he had discovered
the identity of the newcomers.
They proved to be two men who halted a short distance beyond him,
and began to converse in guarded tones.  It was so dark that Phil
could scarcely distinguish their figures and their voices were
pitched so low that it was impossible for him to hear what they
were saying.
"This looks queer," Phil muttered.  "I wish I could hear what
they are talking about.  Perhaps they are town fellows who have
been chased off the lot because they were in the way.  At any
rate, I'm going to try to find out what they are up to.  
Hello, they are coming right over here."
Phil crouched down behind the knoll and listened.  The men turned
slowly and came toward him.  All at once one of them stumbled on
the very knoll behind which he was secreted.
The man uttered a growl.
"Come, sit down," he said to his companion.
"We better go on," answered the other.
"No hurry.  We've got all the time in the world.  If we miss the
boat we can swim.  That was a narrow escape.  In a minute more
we'd had that wagon fixed so they would never have got off the
lot with it."
"Hello," muttered Phil under his breath.  "Something surely is
going on here.  One of the voices I have heard before, and the
other I seem to recognize.  I believe that first fellow belongs
to the show.  I am almost sure of it."
"You think the fellow suspects?"
"The tall one does.  But he doesn't know whom be suspects."
"We have to take care."
"But we will get both before the end of the season."
"You bet we will.  I have a plan that--"
"What is it?"
"It is this."
Phil had buried his head in the grass and compressed his body 
into the smallest possible space that he might avoid discovery. 
He could hear the two men breathe, and he reasoned that they 
might hear him as well.
"You know the big net?"
"You mean the one over which the flying four perform?"
"What about it?"
"It can be fixed."
"By weakening some of the strands on each side."
"That is good, but suppose someone noticed."
"Not if it is done right.  I don't mean to do it all at once. 
I'll doctor one or two strands every day until the net is so
weakened that it won't hold."
"Yes, but how will you do this so no one will see?"
"I'll tell you.  After the act is over they roll the net up and
carry it out.  It is dumped just outside the pad room, where it
is picked up by one of the property wagons later in the evening. 
It's in the same place every night."
"I think somebody may see us do it."
"No danger.  Keep cool; that's all.  We'll get even with
those fellows.  We have got to before we can carry out 
the other plans we have talked over.  They are too sharp. 
Sooner or later they will get wise to us, and we've got to
get them out of the way before we go any further.  The work
must be done in a natural sort of way, so that no suspicion 
is aroused."
"Yes, that's so.  But what about the others?  You want to hurt
"I don't care, so long as we get the right one, how many get 
their bumps."
"That's right.  But only one of them is on trapeze.  What you do
about other?"
"It is the tall one that I want most.  He's got to be put out of
the running.  It won't kill him, but it will lay him up in a
hospital for the rest of the season, and that's enough for us."
"The other one will be taken care of after we get through with 
the first.  The small fellow is sharp, but he can't see beyond 
his nose.  It's easy to fool him."
"The fiends!" muttered Phil.  "I believe they are plotting
against Teddy and me.  I have a good notion to sail into
them right here and settle it.  I believe I could whip the
two of them.  I--"
At that instant a blade of grass tickled Phil's nose.  He raised
his head quickly.
"What's that?" exclaimed one of the plotters.
"I heard nothing."
"You didn't?  Well, I did.  There's someone around here and close
"Perhaps it was a squirrel in the grass.  There is no one here."
The blade of grass had done its work, however.  Phil tried hard
to control himself, but he knew he was going to sneeze.
All at once the sneeze came, louder than he had ever
sneezed before.
The men leaped to their feet in sudden alarm.
CHAPTER XVII
EAVESDROPPERS!
"There he is!"
Phil had bounded to his feet, realizing that he could no longer
conceal himself from them.  As he did so, both men sprang toward
him, the Circus Boy eluding them by a leap to one side.
The men made a rush for him.  At first Phil was inclined to stand
his ground and give battle, but he reasoned that, being two to
one, the chances were against him and that even if he were not
captured, he might sustain injuries that would keep him out of
That was the deciding factor with Phil Forrest.  Although he
would have preferred facing his enemies, he whirled instead
and started on a run, with both men pursuing him at top speed.
"He's out-running us.  He'll get away!" cried one of the men. 
"Run, run!  Run for all you're worth!"
But they might as well have spared their effort.  Phil was fleet
of foot, and after getting a slight lead over them he turned
sharply to his right, leaped a fence and lay down.
The men quickly discovered that they had lost their prey. 
Then they became alarmed.
"Get out of here, quick!  He will be following us!"
The men turned and ran swiftly in an opposite direction.
"Do you think he recognized us?"
"I don't know.  We can tell by the way he acts when we get back;
that is if he doesn't follow us now.  We had better separate and
go back to the lot.  From there we can go along with the wagons
and not be noticed.  Don't let him bluff you."
"Have no fear for me."
The plotters separated and cautiously made their way back to the
lot where they were soon lost among the crowd of men at work
taking down the tent.
"I believe one of those two men was Diaz," declared Phil, 
as he once more tried to place the voice that he had seemed 
to recognize.  "They have given me the slip, too.  I know what
I'll do.  I will hurry back to the boat and when Diaz returns 
I will face him and make him betray himself if I can.  I shall
have him then."
Having decided on his course of action, Phil struck off at a trot
across the field.  He soon reached a back street of the village,
and from there ran at full speed to the docks.
All was activity here.  The lad cast a quick glance about, though
he did not expect to find the man for whom he was looking. 
Without pausing in his rapid gait he ran up the companionway to
the upper deck, where he intended to watch at the rail for the
arrival of Diaz from the lot.
As he leaned over the rail he felt someone stir near him. 
Glancing up quickly, the Circus Boy started almost guiltily. 
There, beside him, sat Diaz on a camp stool with his feet on the
steamer's rail, calmly watching the loading operations on the 
"Good evening, Mr. Diaz," said Phil quickly recovering 
his self-possession.
Diaz uttered an unintelligible grunt, but did not deign to turn
"Hey, Phil, is that you?" called the voice of Teddy from further
down the deck.
"Yes," answered Phil, rising and moving aft.  "How long have you
"About an hour."
"Do you know who is sitting over there?"
"Over where?"
"There by the rail?"
"Sure, I know.  That's our old friend Diaz," grinned Teddy.
"How long has he been there?"
"He came in when I did."
"An hour ago?"
Phil was perplexed.
"I do not understand it at all."
"Don't understand what?"
"Something that occurred this evening."
Teddy's curiosity was aroused.
"What is it all about, Phil?"
"I should prefer not to talk about it here, Teddy.  I will tell
you after we get to bed and there is no one about to overhear us.
There is a rascally plot on foot."
"Yes.  I know very little about it, but I know enough to warn me
that you and I will have to keep our eyes open or else we shall
find ourselves in serious difficulties before we realize it."
"Is that so?  Tell me who the plotters are, and I'll turn January
loose on them," explained Teddy.  "Do you think they are the
fellows who stole my egg?"
"I don't know.  Where is Mr. Sparling?"
"I haven't seen him since I ran into him and bowled him over off
on the lot."
Phil laughed.
"As I have said many times before, you are hopeless, Teddy.  
I must go now.  If you see Mr. Sparling, please let me know,
but say nothing to anyone about what I have just told you."
Phil walked back to the point on the deck where he had first
stopped to look over the rail, and, drawing up a stool sat down. 
He began studying the faces of the belated performers who came
straggling down to the dock, singly and in pairs.  None seemed
to be in a hurry; not a face appeared to reflect any excitement. 
After an hour of this Phil felt sure that all the company had
been accounted for.
Mr. Sparling had arrived about twenty minutes earlier, and was
standing on the dock giving orders.  As the lad saw the owner
enter the boat he turned away and hurried downstairs.
"When you are at liberty, I should like a few moments
conversation with you, sir," announced Phil.
"I am at liberty, now, my lad," answered the showman with a smile
and a friendly slap on the boy's shoulder.
"I would rather not talk here, Mr. Sparling," answered Phil in a
"Something doing, eh?"
"Is it important that you should talk with me at once, or will a
little later on answer the purpose?"
"Later on will do.  It is not so urgent as that."
"When the men get these menagerie cages all shifted on deck I
will meet you in my cabin.  That will be in about twenty
minutes, Phil."
"Very well, sir; I will be on hand."
Phil walked away, watched the loading operations for a few
minutes, then strolled to the main cabin on the upper deck,
where lunch was being served as usual.
The Circus Boy appeared more light-hearted than usual that
evening, as he chatted and joked with his friends among 
the performers.  He did not wish the man or men whom he had
overheard off on the lot to know that he was the eavesdropper. 
He felt that he could make better progress in his investigation
were they not on their guard.
The pilot, Cummings, was not in the cabin.  He had not been
seen there since his trouble with Teddy.  Despite the pilot's
determination to resign, he was still on duty, he and 
Mr. Sparling having come to a satisfactory understanding.
Teddy was helping himself liberally for the second time since his
return from the lot.
"Do you think you will ever be able to satisfy that appetite
of yours?" laughed Phil.
"I hope not," answered Teddy solemnly.  "That's the only fun in
life--that and the donkey."
Just then Mr. Sparling passed through the cabin on the way to his
stateroom and office.  He gave Phil a significant glance, to
which the Circus Boy did not respond.  A few minutes later,
however, Phil strolled out to the deck.  Reaching it he turned
quickly and hurried aft, entering the passageway there and going
directly to Mr. Sparling's quarters.
"Come in," invited the owner in response to Phil's gentle rap.
The blinds had been drawn up, though the windows were let
down into their casings out of sight.  Phil noted this in
a quick glance.
"Sit down and tell me what has happened, Phil.  I am sure you
have made some sort of discovery."
"I have and I haven't."
"What do you mean?"
"That I am deeper in the mire than ever."
"Tell me about it."
"While I have made no discoveries that will help us much, I have
learned just enough to understand that there is a diabolical plot
"Against whom?"
"I am not sure, but I think it is against Teddy and myself."
"Is it possible?  Who are the plotters?"
"That is the worst of it; I do not know.  I wish I did.  
I thought I had one of the men identified, but I find I 
am all wrong.  I am more at sea than ever."
"Who did you think it was?"
"As long as I am mistaken, why should I accuse anyone?"
"You are right.  Have you reason to believe it is someone
connected with this show?"
"I am sure that at least one of the men is."
"Then there is more than one in this thing?"
"There are two men.  At least I have seen two.  There may be more
for all I know."
"Now, tell me what it is all about.  You haven't said a word
regarding this plot yet," urged the showman drawing his chair
around the corner of his desk and leaning forward with his hands
on his knees.
Phil told how he strolled off into the field adjoining the
circus lot, and went on in detail to relate all that had
occurred after that.  As he proceeded with his story the face
of James Sparling grew serious and then stern.
"I presume I should have stood my ground and given battle to
them, if for no other reason than to find out who they were,"
concluded the lad, somewhat ruefully.
"Phil Forrest, you should have done nothing of the sort,"
answered Mr. Sparling sharply.  "You take quite enough risk as
it is.  You think the plot now is to tamper with the big net?"
"Is it possible that such scoundrels are traveling with the
Sparling shows?"
"I wish I did not think so."
"Phil, it is not the man who was responsible for several
accidents the first year you were with us, is it?" demanded
the showman shrewdly, darting a sharp glance at Phil.
"No, sir," answered the boy flushing a little.  "That man is no
longer with the show."
"I thought so.  Now I have him located."
"The--the man I saw tonight--you know him?" gasped Phil.
"No.  I did not mean that.  I refer to the fellow who nearly
caused your death three years ago."
"You had some trouble with Diaz a short time ago, did you not?"
Phil was surprised that the showman was aware of this.
"Where is Diaz tonight?" demanded the showman almost sternly.
"In his stateroom, or else out on deck."
"Are you sure?"
Phil nodded.
"What time did he return from the lot?"
"He was here when I went on deck.  He came to the boat directly
after the performance."
"You are sure of this?"
"You are a very shrewd young man, sir," said Mr. Sparling,
with a mirthless smile.  "However, these guilty men must be
found and punished.  You think their first efforts will be
directed toward the net?"
"Yes, according to what I overheard.  I have an idea, however,
that they will not do so at once, fearing they may have been
recognized, or at any rate that their plans are known to 
someone else."
"Do you think they recognized you?"
"I do not.  I did not speak.  I was on the point of doing so,
then checked myself."
"Right!  You are one in a hundred.  I will have a watch kept on
the net, and an examination made of it before every performance."
Phil smiled faintly.
"I am not afraid for myself."
"No, that's your greatest failing.  You are not afraid of
anything and you take very long chances.  I hope you will be
more cautious in the future.  You must be careful, Phil, and
you had better caution your partner, Teddy Tucker.  Does he
know of this?"
"No, but I intend to tell him.  He is more interested in the
possibility of recovering his egg than in any personal danger 
to himself or to me," said the Circus Boy with a short laugh.
"Keep your eyes open, and take care of yourself.  If we fail
to get a clue by the time we get to Des Moines I shall send
to St. Louis for the best detective they have and put him on
the case.  Perhaps it would be best to do so now."
"I think--" began Phil, when his words were arrested by a loud
noise just outside the cabin, on the deck.
Mr. Sparling and Phil started up, for the instant not
understanding the meaning of the disturbance.
"Wha--what--" gasped the showman.
Phil ran to the window and looked out.
The deck at that point was deserted.  He thought he saw a figure
dodge into an entrance near the stern of the boat, and looking
forward he discovered another disappearing in that direction.
The Circus Boy sprang for the door.
"What is it, what is it?" cried the showman.
"Eavesdroppers!" answered the lad, darting out into the
passageway, followed closely by Mr. Sparling.
"You go that way and I'll go this," directed Phil.
CHAPTER XVIII
MAKING A CAPTURE
The two ran down the corridor, Mr. Sparling heading for the
forward end, Phil toward the stern.
"There he goes!  I see him!" shouted the showman as a figure
leaped out to the deck, slamming the door.  "We have him now!"
Phil rushed out at the stern and started to run along the
starboard side of the boat.  As he emerged he caught sight of a
figure running toward him, and behind the figure, Mr. Sparling,
coming along the deck in great strides.
"Stop!  We've got you!" shouted the showman.
Phil spread out his arms as the fleeing one drew near him, then
threw them about the fellow, holding him in a firm grip.
"I've got him, Mr. Sparling!"
"Leggo of me!  What's the matter with you?  Anybody would think
this was a high school initiation."
"Teddy," groaned Phil.
"What's that?" demanded the showman jerking Phil and his prisoner
over to an open window through which a faint light was showing.
"It is Teddy Tucker, sir," said Phil releasing his hold.
"What does this mean, sir?" demanded the showman in a
stern voice.
"That's what I want to know.  You fellows chase me around the
boat as if I were some kind of a football.  It's a wonder one
of you didn't kick me.  Lucky for you that you didn't, too, I
can tell you."
"Teddy, come to my cabin at once.  Phil, bring him along,
"Yes," answered Phil Forrest.  Phil was troubled.  He could not
believe it possible that Teddy was guilty of eavesdropping, and
yet the evidence seemed to point strongly in that direction. 
Taking firm hold of his companion's arm he led him along toward
Mr. Sparling's cabin.
"What's all this row about?" growled Teddy.
"That is what I hope you will be able to explain to 
Mr. Sparling's satisfaction," replied Phil.  "However, wait
till we get to his cabin."
Phil led Teddy to the door, thrust him in, then followed, closing
and locking the door.
"Perhaps we had better close that window this time, sir."
Mr. Sparling drew up and locked the window.
"Sit down!" he commanded, eyeing Teddy keenly.
Teddy sat down dutifully and was about to place his feet on the
showman's desk when Phil nudged him.
"Now, sir, what does this mean?"
"What does what mean?  I never was any good at guessing riddles."
"What do you mean by eavesdropping at my cabin window?"
"Oh, was that your window?"
"It was and it is.  And unless you can offer a satisfactory
explanation, something will have to be done.  That is one of the
things that I shall not tolerate.  I can scarcely believe you
guilty of such a disgraceful act.  Unfortunately, you have
admitted it."
"Admitted what?"
"That you were listening at my window."
"I never said anything of the sort."
"No, not in so many words; but when I asked you what you meant by
doing so, you answered, 'Oh, was that your window?'"
"Certainly I said it."
"Then will you kindly explain why?"
"I wasn't listening at your window.  I wasn't within half a
block--half a boat, I mean--of it.  What do you think I am?"
"Well, Teddy, for a minute I thought you had been guilty of an
inexcusable act but upon second thought I begin to understand 
that it is impossible.  There is some misunderstanding here."
Phil looked relieved, but Teddy was gazing at the showman with
half-closed eyes.
"While Phil and myself were holding a confidential conversation
here, someone was listening to us under that window.  All at once
the blind fell with a crash--"
"And so did the other fellow," interrupted Teddy, his eyes
lighting up mischievously.
"Phil looked out quickly.  He thought he saw someone dodging into
the entrance aft, and at the same time he was sure someone was
doing the same thing forward."
"I was the fellow who dodged in the forward entrance.  Then you
fellows started a sprinting match with me."
"Why did you run?"
"Oh, I suppose I might as well tell you all about it."
"Yes, if we are to make any headway it will be best to let you
tell your story in your own way," answered Mr. Sparling with a
"I was halfway between here and the pilot house, sitting 
down on the deck, leaning against the side of the deck-house.  
I had just gone to sleep, at least I think I had, when I woke 
up suddenly.  I saw somebody down this way peeping in at 
a window.  I became curious.  I wondered if he was the fellow who
stole my egg, so I got up to investigate.  Just then he saw me."
"Well, what happened?"
"He was standing on a box.  The box tipped over or he jumped off,
I don't know which.  I thought he was chasing me, and I ran."
"Afraid, eh?" jeered Phil.
"No, I wasn't afraid.  I just ran because I needed the exercise;
that's all.  Do you think he really had my egg?"
"Who was the man, Teddy?"
"How do I know?"
"You saw him.  Could you not--did you not recognize him?"
"No, it was too dark.  I didn't wait long after I first
discovered him, you know.  I thought maybe it was that fellow
Cummings, laying for me.  I wish January had finished him
while he had the chance."
"You noticed nothing familiar about him?"
"Yes, I did."
"He looked like some kind of a man," answered Teddy solemnly.
"Oh, fudge!"
"You say he was standing on a box?"
"Something of the sort."
Mr. Sparling went out, leaving the boys alone for a few minutes. 
When he returned he brought with him a small square box which he
examined very carefully.
"Do you recognize it?" asked Phil.
"Yes, it is one in which the candy butcher received some goods. 
It might have been picked up by anyone.  I will find out where he
left it.  This may give us some slight clue.  It is quite
evident, boys, that we have among us one or more dangerous men. 
Teddy, I offer you my humble apology for having suspected you for
a moment.  The thought was unworthy."
"Don't mention it," answered the Circus Boy airily.
TEDDY JOINS THE BAND
"I would suggest that you divide the band into two parts and have
them play on deck as we approach the next stand," said Phil later
that evening.
"I think that a most excellent plan," decided Mr. Sparling. 
"We will work it whenever we get in after daylight.  It might
not be a bad idea to try it tomorrow morning.  I'll allow the
musicians overtime for it, so there should be no objection on
their part.  We will make a triumphal entry into Des Moines,
providing nothing happens to us in the meantime."
Mr. Sparling's face darkened as he thought of the dastardly
attempts that had been made against his young charges.
"I will see the leader before I turn in.  You had better go to
bed now, Phil.  You have been keeping pretty late hours and
working unusually hard.  Good night."
"Good night," answered Phil pleasantly.
Man and boy had come to be very fond of each other, and 
Phil Forrest could not have felt a more genuine affection 
for Mr. Sparling had the latter been his own father.
"A noble fellow," was Mr. Sparling's comment as the youth walked
away from the cabin.
At half-past three o'clock the next morning the boat's passengers
were awakened by the blare of brass, the crash of cymbals and the
boom of the big bass drum.
They tumbled out of bed in a hurry, for few of them knew of the
plan of the owner to give an early morning concert on the deck of
the "Fat Marie."
Teddy Tucker struck the floor of his cabin broadside on.
"Wake up, Phil!  We're late for the show.  It's already begun and
here we are in bed."
"Guess again, Teddy," answered Phil sleepily.  "Don't you know
where you are?"
"I thought I did, but I don't.  Where am I?"
"In our cabin on the ship."
"But the band, the band?"
"It is playing for the benefit of the natives along the shore."
"Oh, pooh!  And here I am wide awake.  Do you know what time
"It is only twenty minutes of four."
"In the afternoon?  Goodness we are late."
"No, in the morning, you ninny.  This is a shame.  I'll bet that
band concert was your suggestion, Phil Forrest."
Phil admitted the charge.
"Then you must take your medicine with the rest of us.  Come out
One of Phil's feet was peeping out from under the covers. 
Teddy saw it and grabbed it.  Being a strong boy, the mighty
tug he gave was productive of results.
Phil landed on his back on the floor, with a resounding thump and
a jolt that made him see stars.
"Teddy Tucker, look out; I'm coming!"
"You had better look out; I'm waiting."
The two supple-limbed youngsters met in the middle of the cabin
floor and went down together.  They were evenly matched, and
the muscles of their necks stood out like whip cords as they
struggled over the floor, each seeking to get a fall from 
his antagonist.
Teddy managed to roll under the bed, and there they continued
their early morning battle, but under no slight difficulties. 
Every time one of the gladiators forgot himself and raised his
head, he bumped it.  Phil tried to force Teddy out from under
the bed, but Teddy refused to be forced.
"When--when I get you out of here I am going to do something to
you that you won't like, Teddy Tucker," panted Phil.
"What--what you going to do to me?"
"I'm going to pour a pitcher of cold water on your bare feet."
The thought of it sent Teddy into a nervous chill.  He would
rather take a sound thrashing, at any time, than have that done
to him.  Now he struggled more desperately than ever to hold Phil
under the bed.  At last, however, the boys rolled out and Teddy's
shoulders struck the cabin floor with a bang that sent the
pitcher jingling in the wash bowl.
Phil sprang up, seized the water pitcher, making a threatening
move with it toward his companion.
"Wow!  Don't, don't!" howled Teddy.
Phil pursued him around the cabin, the water splashing from the
pitcher to the floor.  Teddy yelling like a wild Indian every
time he stepped in the puddles.
The window was open and the band was playing just outside.
Suddenly a new plan occurred to Teddy--a plan whereby he might
escape from his tormentor.
Taking a running start he sprang up, making a clean dive through
the window head-first.
The lad had intended to land on his hands, do a cartwheel and
come up easily on his feet.  But the best-laid plans sometimes
The bass drummer was pounding his drum right in line with
the window.  Teddy did not see the drum until too late to
change his course.  His head hit the drum with a bang.  
He went clear through it, his head protruding from the
other side.  And there he stuck!
"Oh, wow!" howled the Circus Boy.
The other members of the band, discovering that the drum was
no longer marking time for them, got out of tune and came to
a discordant stop.
The leader, whose side had been toward the drummer at the time,
did not know what had happened.  He was furious.  He was about
to upbraid them when he discovered the head of Teddy Tucker
protruding from the head of the drum.
"Wha--wha--what--"
The bass drummer paid no attention to him.  Instead he grabbed
the offending boy by the feet, bracing his own feet against the
rim of the instrument, and began to pull.  The drummer was red
in the face, perspiring and angry.
Teddy popped out like a pea from a pod.  The Circus Boy was not
yet out of his trouble.  With unlooked-for strength the irate
drummer threw the lad over his knees, face down, and raised the
drumstick aloft.
This drumstick, as our readers well know, is made of heavy
leather--that is the beating end is--and is hard.  To add to the
distress of the victim, Teddy was in his pink pajamas and they
The stick came down with more force than seemed necessary.
"Ouch!  Stop it!  I'll pay you back for keeps for that!"
"Oh, Phil!"  Teddy was making desperate efforts to squirm away
now, but his position was such that he was unable to bring his
full strength to bear on the task.
The stick was raised for another blow, but there came an
interruption that took all thought of continuing the punishment
out of the mind of the angry drummer.
"Stop it!  I don't want to be a drum!" howled the boy.
A pitcher of water was emptied over the drummer's head, a large
part of the water running down and soaking Teddy to the skin,
causing that young gentleman to howl lustily.
It gave the boy the opportunity he was looking for, however.  
With a quick twist he wrenched himself free from the grasp of the
drummer, dropped on all fours and was up and away, a pink streak
along the port side of the "Fat Marie."
Phil had come to the rescue of his companion.  He now jerked the
window shut and slammed the blind in place, after which he
quickly got into his clothes, fully expecting that he should have
a call from the bass drummer.
There was a great uproar on deck about that time, with much
shouting and unintelligible language--at least unintelligible
Before he had finished dressing, Teddy came skulking in, rubbing
himself and muttering threats as to what he proposed to do to 
the drummer.
"You did it!  You did!" he shouted, pointing a finger at
Phil Forrest.
"It strikes me that you did something, too--"
"No I didn't.  Something was done to me.  I had on my pajamas,
too," wailed the boy.  "I'm glad you soaked him, though.  
Why didn't you throw the pitcher at him, too?"
"Oh, no, it might have hurt him, Teddy."
"Hurt him?  Pshaw!  Maybe the drumstick didn't hurt me.  Oh, no!"
"Well, get dressed.  I will go out and see if I can pour oil on
the troubled waters.  You stay here.  I don't want you mixing it
up with the drummer.  I'll attend to him."
Phil first hunted up Mr. Sparling, whom he found shaving in
"Why good morning, Phil.  Why this early call?"
"I called to ask you what a new set of heads will cost for the
"I think they are worth about fifteen dollars.  Why do you ask?"
"Because Teddy and myself have just smashed the heads out of the
one belonging to the band."
Mr. Sparling paused in his shaving long enough to glance keenly 
at Phil.  There was a twinkle in his eyes.  He knew that his
Circus Boys had been up to some mischief.  Phil was as solemn as
"It was this way," explained the lad, as he related how the
accident had occurred.
Mr. Sparling sat down and laughed.
"Never mind the drum heads.  We have others for just such an
emergency, I do not mind a little fun once in a while.  We all
have to blow off steam sometimes."
"No, sir; we shall pay for the drum heads.  To whom does the 
drum belong?"
"The drummer, I think."
"Very well; thank you."
Phil hastily withdrew from the cabin and hurried back to his 
own stateroom.
"Teddy," he said, "I want seven-fifty from you."
"What's that?"
"Seven dollars and a half, please."
Teddy began pawing over his trousers.  All at once he paused,
looking up at Phil suspiciously.
"You want to borrow seven-fifty, do you?"
"No, I want you to contribute it."
"To the fund."
"What fund?  What are you talking about?"
"Those drum heads are worth fifteen dollars and we are going to
pay the owner of the drum for the damage we did.  I will give
half and you half."
"What!" shrieked Teddy.
"Come, pay up!"
"What!  Give that fellow money when he's taken more than twenty-
five dollars worth out of my hide?  I guess not!  What kind of an
easy mark do you think I am?  Pay him yourself.  You did it."
"Teddy, do you want me to give you a good thrashing, right here
"You can't do it.  You never could," returned 
Teddy, belligerently.
"Come, hand out the money!"
Teddy eyed his companion for a full minute; then, thrusting a
hand slowly into his own trousers' pocket, brought forth a goodly
roll of bills from which he counted off eight dollars.
"Tell him to keep the change."
"I will, thank you," said Phil with a merry twinkle in his eyes.
"It's like taking candy out of the mouth of a babe.  I'll get
more than eight dollars' worth out of that bass--he's baser than
he is bass.  Bass sounds like a fish, doesn't it--out of that
bass drummer when I get a good fair chance at him.  Sometime when
he isn't looking, you know.  I wonder if he could be the fellow
who stole my egg?" questioned Teddy reflectively.
Phil went out laughing, to make his peace with the drummer.
A CAPTURE IN THE AIR
Fortunately, the band carried a new set of heads for the drum, 
and the contribution of the boys served to restore the offended
musicians to good nature.  Teddy, however, was not appeased.  
That youngster vowed that he would take revenge on the bass
drummer at the very first opportunity.
That afternoon, during the performance, Teddy began his 
getting-even process by standing in front of the bandstand
between his acts, and making faces at the musicians.
This seemed to amuse them, and brought only smiles to
their faces.  Teddy was not there for the purpose of
amusing the band, so he turned his back on them and
tried to think of something more effective.
The show did a great business at Des Moines, having a "turn-away"
at both afternoon and evening performances.  The Sparling shows
had played there before, but never to such business, which the
showman decided was due to their novel way of traveling.  He knew
that these little novelties frequently made fortunes for 
Circus owners.
At the evening performance, Teddy had an inspiration.  He was
too busy, during the first part of the show, to give his idea a
practical test, but later in the evening, while he was awaiting
his cue to go on in his clown act, he tried the new plan.
The lad had purchased half a dozen lemons from the 
refreshment stand.  One of these he cut in halves, secreting
the pieces in a pocket of his clown costume; then when the
time came he stationed himself in front of the bandstand
where he stood until he had gained the attention of several
of the musicians.
Teddy took out the two pieces of lemon with a great flourish,
went through the motions of sprinkling sugar over them, then
began sucking first one piece, then the other, varying his
performance by holding out the lemon invitingly to the players.
The bass drum player scowled.  Teddy's lemon did not affect the
beating of the drum, but as the lad began to make believe that
the acid juice was puckering his lips, some of the musicians
showed signs of uneasiness.
The Circus Boy observing this, smacked his lips again and again,
and industriously swallowed the juice, though it nearly choked
him to do so.
Very soon some of the players got off the key, their playing grew
uneven and in some instances stopped altogether.  The leader
could not understand what the trouble was.  He called out angrily
to the offending musicians, but this seemed only to add to 
their troubles.
All at once the big German, who played the bass horn, rose from
his seat and hurled his music rack at the offending Teddy Tucker.
Everything on the bandstand came to a standstill, and the
performers in the ring glanced sharply down that way, wondering
what could have happened.
The leader turned and discovered Teddy and his lemons.  He was
beside himself with rage.  He understood, now, why his musicians
had failed.  Teddy sucking the lemon had given many of them 
"the puckers."
It was an old trick, but it worked as well as if it had been 
The Circus Boy was delighted.  The leader experienced no 
such sensations.  With an angry exclamation, he leaped from 
the box on which he was standing, aiming a blow at Teddy with 
The boy dodged it and ran laughing out into the ring, for it was
now time for him to go on in his next act.
After a minute or two the band once more collected itself and
the show went on, but there were dire threats uttered against
Teddy Tucker by the leader and players.  The bass drummer
grinned appreciatively.
"I wish I could think of something that would tie up that fellow
with the drum," muttered Teddy, gazing off at the drummer with
resentful eyes.
The band leader had no scruples against carrying tales, and
immediately after the performance he hunted up Mr. Sparling and
entered a complaint against the irrepressible Teddy.  The result
was that Teddy was given a severe lecture by the showman after
they got on board the boat that night.  Then Phil added 
"Well, what about yourself?" retorted the lad.
"I never stirred up as much roughhouse as you did this morning. 
You had better take some of that advice to yourself."
Phil laughed good-naturedly.
"I shall have to admit the impeachment," he said.
It seemed, however, as if the Sparling shows could not get 
along without exciting incidents happening at least once in
twenty-four hours.  They appeared to follow the Circus Boys, 
too, like a plague.  It is likely that, had they not followed 
the boys, Teddy Tucker would have gone out hunting for them.
The next morning something else occurred that was not a part of
the daily routine.  The boats were late and the next stand was
not yet in sight, so the band had not been called to work as
early as on the previous morning.  The bandsmen were just
rousing themselves, in response to raps on their cabin doors,
when they heard rapid footsteps on the deck, and excited shouts
from several voices.
Teddy and Phil awakened at about the same time, having been
disturbed by the unusual sounds.
"Now, what is the trouble?" exclaimed Phil.
"Something is going on, and here I am in bed," answered Teddy,
tumbling out and throwing open the blinds.
He saw nothing unusual.  The boat was slipping along, enveloped
in a cloud of black smoke.  The disturbance seemed to be on the
other side of the vessel.
"Come on, Phil.  Let's find out what it is all about. 
Maybe the boat has struck a rock and we are sinking. 
Wouldn't that be fun?"
"I don't see anything funny about that.  It would be serious, and
you and I would be out of a job for the rest of the season."
"Don't you care!  I have money.  Didn't I give you seven-fifty
yesterday and still have some left?"
"Eight," grinned Phil.
By this time the boys had hurried out into the corridor, and
thence to the deck.
"Well, what do you think of that?" howled Teddy.
"Bruiser is out," exclaimed Phil.
Bruiser was a baboon, whose temper was none too angelic.  He was
a big heavy fellow, who never lost an opportunity to vent his
temper on whoever chanced to be within reach.
It seems that on this particular occasion a sleepy keeper was
cleaning Bruiser's cage so that it might be neat and presentable
when the show opened.  Bruiser had sat on a trapeze far up in the
cage, watching the proceedings with resentful eyes, perhaps
wondering how he might administer a rebuke to the keeper.
All at once the baboon saw his opportunity.  The keeper had
stooped over to pick up something from the floor of the boat,
as he stood at the open door of the cage in the rear.
Bruiser projected himself toward the opening like a catapult.  
At that instant the keeper had straightened up and the baboon 
hit him squarely in the face.  There could be but one result.  
The keeper tumbled over on his back.
Chattering joyously, Bruiser began hopping off on all fours. 
First he investigated the tops of the cages, running over them
and bringing roars from the animals within.  Then he hopped down
and paid a visit to the horses.
January sent a volley of kicks at the beast, but Bruiser was too
quick, and the hoofs passed harmlessly over his head.
About this time the keeper had scrambled to his feet in alarm.  
At first he did not know where the baboon had gone, but hearing
the disturbance among the horses he ran that way, soon coming 
upon Bruiser.  With a scream of defiance, the animal bolted up 
the companionway, hurriedly investigated the corridors and the
main cabin, then leaped out through an open window to the
hurricane deck.
Two other men had joined in the chase now, and it was their
shouts that had awakened the Circus Boys.
"Come on, here's sport!" shouted Teddy Tucker starting on a run
after the fleeing Bruiser.  The latter tried to climb up the
smoke stack and narrowly missed being captured in the attempt. 
At the same time he burned his feet, filling him with rage and
resentment, so that, when the keeper grabbed him, the former's
face was badly scratched.
Round and round the deck ran pursued and pursuers, the baboon
having not the slightest difficulty in eluding his followers,
Teddy chasing gleefully and howling at the top of his 
shrill voice.
Others joined the chase, until well nigh half the boat's company
raced yelling up and down the decks.  Mr. Sparling was one of
the number, though he devoted most of his attention to directing
One mast had been erected on the boat from which to fly flags,
and from this rope braces ran off forward and aft.
Finally Bruiser was so hard pressed that he took to this rigging
and ran up one of the ropes to the mast, where he perched on the
end of a spar and appeared to mock his pursuers.
Poles were brought, at the direction of the owner, with which the
men sought to poke Bruiser down.  But the poles were too short. 
Then the men threw ropes and missiles at the baboon, most of
which went overboard and were lost.
"It is no use.  We shall have to wait until he gets ready to come
down," decided Mr. Sparling.  "How did he get away?"
The keeper explained.
"He won't come down today," added the man.  "That is, so long as
we are here.  He is a bad one."
"You do not have to tell me that.  Can any of you 
offer suggestions?  I am not very strong on capturing
escaped animals.  Phil, how about it?"
Phil shook his head.
"I have an idea, Mr. Sparling," spoke up Teddy.
"I knew you had, from the expression on your face.  What is it?"
"I'll climb up and shake him down."
A loud laugh greeted this remark.
"You couldn't climb up there.  The mast is too slippery."
"I'll show you."
"Very well; go ahead."
"Teddy, I think I would keep out of this, were I in your place,"
remarked Phil.
"You keep out of it yourself.  I'll show you that I know how 
to catch wild beasts.  I haven't ridden January all this time 
for nothing."
Teddy started in bravely to climb the mast.  After a great
struggle he managed to get up about eight feet.  Suddenly he
lost his grip and came sliding down, landing at the foot of
the mast in a heap.
A shout greeted his ludicrous drop.
"I think you had better give it up," laughed Mr. Sparling.
"I won't give it up."
"You cannot climb the mast."
"I don't intend to.  I have an idea."
"What is your idea?"
"I will show you.  Bring me a rope."
The rope was quickly handed to him.  The Circus Boy coiled
it neatly, closely observed by the show people, who did not
understand what he was about to do.
"I'm a sailor, you know," he grinned.  Measuring the distance
accurately, Teddy swung the coil about his head a few times,
then let it fly up into the air, keeping the free end in one
hand as he did so.
The coil tumbled over the yard or cross piece and came down,
hitting the deck with a thump.
"There.  Can you beat that?" he demanded triumphantly.
"Very well done," agreed Mr. Sparling.  "Now that it is over,
what do you propose to do next?"
The lad made fast one end of the rope to the ship's rail, the
baboon peering down suspiciously.
"Oh, I'm after you, you rascal," jeered Teddy, shaking a fist at
the ugly face above him.
After testing the rope, Teddy began climbing it hand over hand. 
Then the spectators divined his purpose.
"The boy is all right," nodded Mr. Sparling approvingly. 
"That is the time that he got the best of you, Phil."
"He is welcome to the job," answered Phil.  "You haven't captured
the baboon yet."
Teddy, by this time, was halfway up the mast.  It seemed a dizzy
climb, but the lad was so used to being up high that he did not
mind it in the least.
"Hey, down there!" he called.
"What is it?"
"Better get out a small net so you can catch him.  I'm going to
shake him down as I would a ripe apple.  If you catch him in the
net he will tangle himself up so that he cannot get away."
"That is a good idea," approved Mr. Sparling.  "Get the net, and
hold it in readiness."
Teddy, in the meantime, was working his way up.  After a time his
hands grasped the crossbar and he pulled himself up astride it,
waving one hand to those below him.
Bruiser, however, was not there.  The baboon had scrambled to the
top of the mast on which there was a golden ball, and on this he
perched some eight or nine feet above Teddy Tucker's head.
"Now where is your baboon?" called a voice.
"Where he cannot get away from me unless he jumps into the
Mississippi," answered Teddy quickly.
"How are you going to get him?" called Mr. Sparling.
"I'll see when I get to him."
With great caution, the lad climbed up the slender top of
Bruiser's tail hung over, while he clung with his feet, glaring
down at Teddy.  The baboon realized that he could not get away.
"Come down here!" commanded Teddy, grabbing the beast's tail and
giving it a mighty tug.
Bruiser's grip gave way.  Down shot Teddy and the baboon.  
But the cross-tree saved him, as the lad figured that it would. 
One hand was clinging to Bruiser's tail, the other arm thrown
about the mast.
Now, Bruiser took a hand.  With a snarl of rage he fastened
in the hair of Teddy Tucker's head, causing that young man
to howl lustily.
For a moment boy and baboon "mixed it up" at such a lively rate
that it was difficult for the spectators below to tell which was
boy and which baboon.  Teddy seemed to be getting the worst 
"Look out!  Let go of him!  You will be in the river the first
thing you know!" shouted Mr. Sparling warningly.
Teddy did not hear him.  He was too busy, at the moment, trying
to keep those savage teeth from fastening themselves in his neck,
for which the beast seemed to be aiming.  At the same time the
boy was getting more and more angry.  It was characteristic of
Teddy that, the angrier he became, the cooler he grew.
He was guarding himself as best he could and watching his chance
to get the upper hand of his antagonist.
All at once Teddy let drive a short-arm blow at the head of
Few things could withstand that blow, and least of all a baboon. 
It landed fairly on the grinning jaws and Bruiser's head jolted
backwards as if it were going right on into the river.
Teddy lost his balance, aided in this by the fact that Bruiser
had fastened to the lad's pajamas.
"They're going to fall!" roared Mr. Sparling.  "Catch them!  
Catch them!"
The men hastened to move the net, and none too soon, for Teddy
and Bruiser came whirling down, the lad making desperate efforts
to right himself so as to drop on his feet.  But the baboon
prevented his doing this.
They struck the net, which was jerked from the hands of the men,
and Teddy hit the deck with a terrific bump.
A CIRCUS BOY MISSING
"Grab the beast!"
Teddy was still clinging to the baboon so firmly that they had to
use force to get Bruiser away from him.
As for the baboon, he was too dazed from the shock of the fall
to offer any resistance, and was quickly captured and returned
to his cage.
Teddy had not fared quite so well.  He was unconscious, and for a
time it was feared that he had been seriously injured.
As it turned out, however, he had escaped with nothing worse than
a severe shock and a sprained wrist.  A sprain of any sort is
sufficient to lay up a circus performer for sometime.  As a
result of his injury, Teddy Tucker did not work again for the
next week; that is, he did not enter the ring, though he was
anxious to do so.  Mr. Sparling, however, would not permit it.
Those were glorious days for Teddy.  He could not keep away
from the circus lot.  He had plenty of time to think up new
ways of tormenting his enemies, some of which he applied from
time to time.  The boy was safe, however, for no one felt
inclined to punish a boy who was going around the outfit with
one arm helpless in a sling.
Perhaps Teddy Tucker took advantage of this fact.  At least, he
enjoyed himself and, besides, found plenty of time to hunt for 
his lost egg.  The boy was suspicious of everyone.  One time he
became firmly convinced that Mr. Sparling had taken it from him. 
The moment the idea occurred to him he hunted up the showman and
demanded to know if the latter had his egg.
"No," answered Mr. Sparling with a twinkle in his eyes, "but I
will try to arrange so you get another."
"Thank you; thank you."
"I am having the show's carpenter make one out of wood."
"I can't eat a wooden egg," protested Teddy.
"Why not?  You were going to eat the ostrich egg.  The wooden
one will give you indigestion no quicker than the other would
"I'll tell you what I will do," said the Circus Boy, an idea
suddenly occurring to him.
"I am listening."
"You have the carpenter make an egg and I will circulate the news
that I have another egg.  I will leave it in my cabin and keep
watch on the thing.  In that way I shall catch the fellow, if he
tries to steal it again.  I shan't put it in the trunk.  Oh, I'll
talk a lot about that wooden egg."
"I am in hopes we shall hear no more about eggs all the rest
of the trip, after I give you another," said the showman. 
"Your idea is not a half-bad one at that.  If you catch the
man we are looking for I will make you a nice present."
"What kind of a present?" asked Teddy with an eye to business.
"What would you like?"
"I'll have to think it over.  There are so many things I want,
that I do not know which I want most."
"I thought you had money enough to buy whatever you needed.  
By the way, how much money have you saved, Teddy?"
"Let me see," reflected the lad, counting up on his fingers. 
"Why, I must have a little more than three thousand dollars in
the bank.  Mrs. Cahill is taking care of it for me, you know."
"Fine, fine!  That is splendid.  What are you going to do with
all of that money?"
"I think I will buy out the Sparling shows, someday, when you get
tired of the business and want to sell at any old price,"
answered the boy boldly.
The showman laughed heartily.
"So you think you would like to own a show, do you?"
"Yes, sir, I am going to--Phil and I."
"May I ask when this interesting affair is coming off--this
purchasing of a real circus?"
"I told you.  When you get tired of the business we are going to
buy you out."
"You have it planned, eh?"
"Yes, sir; that is, I have.  Phil doesn't know anything about 
that yet.  I haven't told him."
"I thought not.  So, while I am paying you to work for me, you 
are planning to take my show away from me, are you?" questioned
Mr. Sparling with a smile.
"No, Sir; we are not trying to do anything of the sort.  You have
been too kind, and I thank you for all you have done for me, 
and--and all you have put up with.  You ought to have 'fired' 
me a long time ago--I guess you ought to have done it before I
started in the Show business.  I'm glad you didn't," added Teddy,
glancing up with a bright smile.
It was the first time Mr. Sparling had ever heard the little
Circus Boy express his appreciation.  He patted the 
lad affectionately.
"I hope you are feeling quite well, today, my boy.  You never
talked this way before.  What caused your sudden change 
"I--I guess it was the baboon," answered Teddy whimsically. 
"Or else, maybe, it was the bump I got when I hit the deck
of the 'Fat Marie.'"
Phil came up and joined them at that moment, waiting for his
turn to go on in his trapeze act for the evening performance. 
Mr. Sparling surveyed him keenly.  He noted the trim, athletic
figure, the poise of the head and the steady clear eyes that
held one irresistibly.
"You are looking very handsome tonight, Phil," said the owner.
"Thank you, sir.  'Handsome is as handsome does,' as the saying
goes," laughed the Circus Boy.  "Are you having the net watched,
Mr. Sparling?"
"Yes, my lad.  Two men are keeping close tab on the big spider
web all the time, except in the afternoon, when no one would dare
to tamper with it for fear of being detected."
"I am not so sure of that.  You see, I have a personal interest
in that net, seeing that I have to risk my bones over it twice
"Don't worry.  It will be well watched, Phil."
"I take the first drop in it, you know, so if it should give way
you would be minus Phil Forrest."
"Teddy tells me you and he are thinking of buying out the
Sparling shows, eh?"
"Why, Teddy, how could you say such a thing?" demanded
Phil, reddening.
Teddy expostulated, explaining that it was merely a dream in his
own mind, repeating that Phil knew nothing of it.
"I do intend to own a show, as I have told you before, 
Mr. Sparling, as soon as I have enough money.  I am afraid,
however, that that day is a long way off."
"Perhaps not so far off as you think, Phil.  Perhaps both of 
you may own a show much sooner than you even dream," said the 
showman, significantly.  "Well, good night, boys if I do not 
see you again."
"What do you think he meant by that?" questioned Teddy.
"I am sure I do not know.  Perhaps he thinks we have a future
before us and that we shall make rapid advances.  I hope so,
don't you, Teddy?"
"I think I would rather find my egg than have most anything else
"Oh, hang your egg!  There goes my cue.  I must get out, now. 
Bye, bye.  You are a lucky boy not to have to work on this 
Phil waved his hand and tripped out into the arena.  A few
minutes later he was soaring through the air with the
gracefulness and ease of a bird on the wing.
The boys did not meet again until bedtime, for Phil had turned
in immediately upon reaching the boat.  Teddy, of course, was
the last one to go to bed, but he was soon asleep after
reaching there.
Phil, on the contrary, had lain awake for some hours, thinking. 
He was still seeking a solution to the mystery that had been
disturbing them almost from the beginning of the season.  
Twice had an effort been made to do him serious injury at least. 
Who could have taken so violent a dislike to him as to wish to
cause his death?  There seemed to be no answer to the question.
"I can think of no one, unless it is Diaz," muttered the boy. 
"Yet he surely was not one of those who were plotting out on the
lot that night.  He would not have had time to get back to the
boat ahead of me.  Then again, Teddy was sure that the clown had
been back for more than an hour.  He may have had something to do
with laying the trap in the ring for Dimples and myself."
"I am afraid I am not on the right track at all," decided Phil
at last, with a deep sigh.
He was still awake when the "Fat Marie" shook off her moorings
and with a long blast of her siren, drifted out into the stream
and began pounding down the river.
Phil got up, stretched himself, looked out of the window, then
decided to go on deck to get the breeze, for the heat was
stifling in his stateroom.  Teddy was sound asleep.
The deck seemed to be deserted.  Phil walked over to the rail and
leaning both elbows upon it closed his eyes dreamily.
It must have been fully an hour later when Teddy awakened
suddenly, with a foreboding that something was not as it
"Phil!" he called.
There was no reply.
"_Phil!_" repeated Teddy in a louder tone.
Failing to get a response, Teddy arose and found his companion's
bed empty.  Teddy, knowing that Phil seldom ever left the
stateroom after retiring, decided to go out to look for him.  
He investigated the cabin, then going out on dock peered into
every shadow, calling softly for Phil.
Failing to get any trace of his chum, Teddy returned to his
cabin, put on his slippers and went down to the lower deck, where
he made inquiries of the watchman, but with no better success.
Teddy Tucker began to feel alarmed.  He hurried to the upper deck
again, once more going over it carefully, as well as the inside
of the boat.
A terrible suspicion began to force itself upon him.
"Man overboard!" bellowed the Circus Boy.  "Man overboard!" 
He ran through the corridors shouting the startling cry, then
out to the deck repeating it as he ran.
The cry was taken up by others as they rushed from their cabins,
Mr. Sparling among the number.
"Where, where?" shouted the showman.  "Who--who--"
"It's Phil!  He's gone.  He's over there, somewhere, I don't 
know where!"
CHAPTER XXII
OVERBOARD INTO THE RIVER
"I can't understand it," Phil mused, as the soft evening breezes
lulled him into slumber.
"What!  What!" he cried suddenly.  "What is it?  I'm falling!"
The deck of the "Marie" all at once seemed to have dropped from
beneath him.  He felt himself falling through space.  What could
With the showman's instinct the Circus Boy quickly turned his
body, spread out his hands and righted himself.
The night was black, and as yet he had not succeeded in
collecting his senses sufficiently to decide what had happened. 
He knew that he was falling, but that was all.
There was a sudden splash as his body struck the water.  
Phil shot right down beneath it and the waters of the
Mississippi closed over him.
He understood then what had happened, but not for an instant did
he lose his presence of mind.  Phil had caught his breath as his
feet touched the water, and now that he had sunk beneath the
surface he began to kick vigorously and work his hands to check
his downward course.
A moment of this and he felt himself rising toward the surface. 
Phil was as good a swimmer as he was a performer in the circus
ring, and he felt no nervousness, even though his position at
that moment was a perilous one.
Almost at once he felt his head above the surface of the river,
but his eyes were so full of muddy water that he could see
nothing at all.  Instead of trying to swim, Phil lay over on his
back, floated and began blinking industriously to get the water
out of his eyes.  He soon found that he could see once more,
though at that moment there was nothing to be seen in the
blackness of the night.
"There's the 'Marie,'" he cried.  Phil raised his voice in a good
lusty howl for help, but none heard him.  He could see the lights
of the steamboat and they appeared to be far away.
"There is only one thing left for me to do, and that is to strike
out for the shore.  I wonder which way the shore is?"
Once more he raised himself in the water, for an instant, and
gazed toward the rapidly disappearing lights of the 'Marie.'
"She is going downstream, so if I swim to the left I should reach
shore after a while," decided the lad.
He did not know that the boat had in the meantime made a sharp
turn to her right and that in turning to the left he would be
swimming downstream, making his attempt to reach shore a
difficult one indeed.
The lad struck out manfully, swimming with long, easy strokes,
aided considerably by the current which was sweeping him
downstream much faster than he thought.
"I'm glad I have only my pajamas on," decided the lad.  "If I 
had all my clothes on I fear I should have a pretty tough fight. 
It's bad enough as it is."
Talking to himself, in order to keep up his courage, he swam
steadily on, now and then pausing to swim on his back to
rest himself.  He had gone on for nearly an hour when the
lad began to wonder why he had not reached shore.
"Surely the river cannot be so wide at this point.  I must have
drifted downstream considerably.  Perhaps I haven't been going in
the right direction at all."
He tried to find out which way the drift was, in order to make
up his mind as to the direction in which the shore lay.  In the
darkness, however, he was unable to determine this, so he began
swimming again, trusting to luck to land him on something solid,
sooner or later.  He knew that this must occur, but whether his
strength would hold out that long he could not say.
All at once he caught a peculiar drumming sound.  It reminded him
of a partridge that he had once heard in the woods, but it seemed
a long way off and he could not identify it.
"I guess it must be my heart, up somewhere near my mouth, that I
hear," said the boy with a short mindless laugh.  "Maybe I am
going to pieces.  If I am I deserve to drown."
About that time Phil decided to turn over on his back and rest
for a moment.
The instant he did so he uttered a sharp exclamation.  His eyes
caught sight of something that he had not seen before.  It looked
to him like some giant shadow, from which twinkled hundreds 
"It is the 'Marie'!" cried the boy.  "They are coming back
for me.  No, no, it cannot be the 'Marie,' for this boat
is coming from the opposite direction.  Yes, it surely is
a steamboat!"
Though Phil did not know it, this was one of the big river
packets bound down the river from St. Louis.
"I must get out of the way, or they will run me down, but I want
to keep close enough so I can hail them.  I hope this is where I
get on something solid again."
A few minutes of steady swimming appeared to have taken him out
of the path of the river boat.  Then Phil rested, lying on his
back, watching the boat narrowly.
"In almost any other position or place, I might think that was a
pretty sight.  As matters stand, now, it looks dangerous to me."
His position was more perilous at that moment than he
even dreamed.
"H-e-l-p!  H-e-l-p!" called Phil, in what he thought was a
There were no indications that his cry had been heard by those
on board the steamboat.  He tried it again, but with no better
success than before.
"I have simply got to keep on yelling my lungs out until I
attract their attention.  I am afraid I shall never reach shore
unless I am picked up.  I might be able to keep afloat until
daylight, but I doubt it.  I shall get so chilled, before then,
that I shall have to give up.  I've got some fight left in me
yet, just the same."
"A-h-o-y, boat!  _Help!_"
On came the steamer, steadily.
Suddenly Phil discovered something else.  She had changed 
her course.  The boat seemed to be drawing away from him!  
His heart sank, but almost at once, the boat turned again,
following the tortuous channel of the stream.
She now was sweeping almost directly down upon him.  He heard
some call on the upper deck.
"They are going to run me down!" he gasped.
Phil threw all his strength into an effort to swim out of the
path of the swiftly moving boat, but he feared he would not be
able to clear her.
The lad uttered a loud shout, then dived deep, coming up at once
only to find himself almost against the side of the moving craft.
He grabbed frantically, hoping that his hands might come in
contact with some projection to which he could cling, but the
slippery sides of the hull slid past him at what seemed almost
express train speed.
He was almost on the point of diving again to get away from the
dangerous spot, when suddenly, his fingers closed over something.
It was a rope, one of the hawsers that had not been fully hauled
in when the boat left the last landing place some miles up 
With a glad cry, both the lad's hands closed over the 
precious rope.  His joy was short lived.  He found himself
dropping back, the river craft still gliding past him.
The rope was paying out over the boat's side in his hands.
Phil Forrest was never more cool in his life, but he now began 
to realize the well-nigh hopeless position in which be found
himself placed.
Suddenly the rope ceased paying out with an abruptness that
jerked him clear out of the water.  He fell back with a splash,
all but losing hold of the rope as he did so.
"I've got it!  I've got it!" exulted the lad.  A rush of water
filled his mouth, almost suffocating him.
"I guess I had better keep my mouth closed," thought the boy.
He was directly astern of the steamboat by this time, and this
placed him in a much more favorable position than he had been
while dragging along at the side.
Phil began resolutely to work himself along the rope hand 
over hand.  It was a desperate undertaking, one calling for
strength and courage of an unusual kind, but he never hesitated. 
His breath came in long, steady, sighs, for he was going though
the water at such a rate of speed that breathing was made 
doubly difficult.
"It is a good thing I am a circus performer.  I should probably
have been at the bottom of the river long ago, had I not been a
At last, after what seemed hours of struggling, he had succeeded
in working his way past the stern paddle wheel, and up under the
stern of the ship.  He twisted the rope about one arm, and with
his head well out of water lay half exhausted while he was shot
through the water at high speed.
A few minutes of this, and Phil, considerably rested, began to
pull himself up.
Ordinarily this hand over hand climb would have been an easy feat
for the Circus Boy.  As it was, however, the lad was forced to
pause every foot or so, and, twisting the rope about an arm and a
leg, hang there between sky and water, gasping for breath, every
nerve and muscle in his body a-quiver.
Few men, no matter how strong nor how great their endurance,
could have gone through what Phil Forest had endured that night.
He was glad to be out of the water, where he was in imminent
danger of being drowned as the boat jerked him along.  Of course
he was not obliged to cling to the rope, but the chances of his
reaching shore, were he to let go, he felt were very remote.
"I am glad Teddy is not here," muttered Phil with a half smile
as he thought of his companion back on the "Marie" fast asleep. 
"I wonder what he will think when he finds that I am missing? 
I hope they do not turn about and come back to look for me, for
I hardly think they will be able to do that and make their next
stand in time."
Once more the lad began pulling himself up the rope.  At last,
to his great relief, his fingers closed over the stern rail of
the river boat.  Phil pulled himself up as if he were chinning
the bar, though in this case he chinned it only once.
Elbows were braced on the rail, then the right leg was thrown
over and Phil Forrest was high and dry on the deck of a great
river steamer, after an experience that perhaps never had
befallen a human being on the Mississippi before.
He found himself standing face to face with an officer of the
boat, who proved to be the mate.  The man was so astonished at
the dripping figure that had come over the stern, that, for the
moment, he did not speak.
"Good evening," greeted Phil politely.
"Who are you?" demanded the mate sternly.
"I guess I am Old Neptune himself.  Maybe I am a mermaid. 
At least I have just risen from the sea, and mighty glad
I am that I have risen."
The officer seized Phil.  Leading the boy to where the light
shone from the main cabin window, he peered into the lad's face. 
Evidently fairly well satisfied by his brief glance into the
honest eyes of the Circus Boy, the officer quickly turned and
led Phil to the forward end of the boat, where he summoned the
captain, who was lying down in the pilot house.
"What's this?  Whom have you here?"
"I don't know, sir," answered the officer.  "He came over the
side half a mile above here."
"What--what's this--came over the side?"
"Impossible!"
"I saw him.  I was standing astern when he climbed over
"See here, young man, what does this mean?"
"I fell from a boat, sir, further up the river.  I was trying to
swim ashore when you nearly ran me down.  You see, I did not know
you were going to make that sharp turn and I did not have time to
get out of the way."
"That is not a likely story, young man.  How did you get aboard
this boat?  That is what I want to know."
Phil explained that he had caught hold of a rope.
"Is there a rope trailing, mate?"
"I don't know, sir."
The mate returned a few moments later with the information that a
hawser was dragging astern.
"Wonderful!" breathed the captain.  "How did you ever do it, and
you only a boy?"
"I am pretty strong, even if I am a boy," smiled Phil.
"What is your name?"
Phil gave it.
"How did you happen to get in the river?"
"I told you I fell in, or something of the sort, from the
'Fat Marie.'"
"Never heard of her."
"I think she was called the 'Mary Jane.'"
"Oh, that's that circus boat--the Sparling Circus?"
"Do you belong to the circus?"
"Yes.  I am a bareback rider and a trapeze performer."
Both men gazed at him with new interest.
"Well, you beat anything that I ever heard of.  You certainly
must be a performer if you did a thing like that.  I remember the
pilot's telling me he thought he heard someone cry out from the
river, but as the call was not repeated, he thought he must have
been mistaken.  Come in, and we will put you to bed."
"I have no money with me, sir," said the lad.  "If you will
extend the courtesies of your craft to me, I will see that you
are well paid after I reach my show once more."
"We will take care of you.  Never mind about the pay."
"By the way, where is your next landing place?"
Phil gave a low whistle.
"Where do you want to go?"
"Corinth, I believe is the stand we show at tomorrow."
"That's not far from Memphis.  We will land you at Memphis 
in the morning and you can take a train back, getting you to
Corinth in plenty of time for your show.  I will see that you
have a ticket."
"Thank you ever so much.  You are very kind."
The Circus Boy was put to bed and in a few minutes he was sound
asleep, thus far not much the worse for his thrilling experience,
though he was completely exhausted, as he realized after he had
tucked himself in his berth.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE ROMAN CHARIOT RACES
It was late when the Circus Boy awoke next morning.  A steward
rapped at the door and a suit of officer's clothes, brass buttons
and all was handed in to him.
"With the captain's compliments, sir," said the steward. 
"He hopes it will fit you.  When you are ready, you will
please come to the saloon for breakfast."
"Thank the captain for me, and say that I can't get there any
too soon," laughed Phil, springing out of bed.
The passengers had all heard the remarkable tale from the captain
that morning, and they were anxious to see the young Circus Boy
who had performed such a plucky act.
Phil entered the dining room, not thinking for a minute that he
would be recognized.  When the passengers saw the handsome young
fellow in an officer's uniform, they knew him.  Everyone in the
room sprang to his feet and three cheers rang out for 
Phil Forrest.
"Speech, speech!" cried someone.
Blushing faintly, Phil glanced about him.
"You cannot expect a boy to make much of a speech before
breakfast, especially after he has been swimming most of 
the night.  I don't know that I am entitled to any 
special credit.  I saved only my own life, and I do not 
expect to get a medal for it, either.  I hope all of you 
will visit the Great Sparling Shows at the first opportunity. 
Then I shall try to entertain you in a way that I understand 
far better than this.  I'm very much obliged to you all."
Then Phil sat down.  The passengers gave him another cheer,
louder and more enthusiastic than the first.  Mr. Sparling would
have been proud of the lad could he have heard that speech.  
Phil lost no opportunity to advertise the Sparling shows, and
every passenger on the boat, that morning, made up his mind to
visit the show ere another week had passed.
All the rest of the morning Phil was a hero in the eyes of the
passengers, who followed him wherever he went, asking questions
about his experience in the river, and how he had happened to
fall in, as well as numerous questions about the life of a 
With regard to his accident, Phil had little to say.  He seemed
to wish to avoid discussing the falling-in matter, but his face
took on a serious expression when it was referred to.
At last Memphis was sighted.  Phil arranged with the captain
to return the uniform, which he promised to send to St. Louis,
so that his benefactor could get it on the return trip.
As the craft began drawing in toward the dock, the Circus Boy
bade all the passengers good-bye, everyone of whom insisted on
shaking hands with him.
Phil walked off, the passengers giving him three cheers as he
stepped over the gangplank to the dock.  Before he had reached
the end of it, he was overtaken by a reporter who had just heard
of Phil's feat and wished an interview.
At first Phil was reluctant to speak.
"I think it will be a good advertisement for the show," he said 
to himself.  So the Circus Boy related, modestly, the story 
of his experience in the river and of his rescue of himself; not
forgetting to say some pleasant things about the Sparling shows,
which would visit Memphis two days hence.  That afternoon he saw
his story set forth in the Memphis newspaper.  He bought two
papers, one of which he tucked in his pocket, sending the other
to Mrs. Cahill, his guardian.  His next move was to start for the
station, to take a train for Corinth.  He was already too late to
reach that town in time for the afternoon performance, but he had
wired Mr. Sparling that he was safe.
As it happened the lad reached the show grounds before his
message had been delivered.  Mr. Sparling, well nigh beside
himself with worry, had telegraphed to all points passed by their
boats, begging that neither effort nor expense be spared to find
his Circus Boy.
The showman was standing in front of his office tent, that
afternoon, at about three o'clock, his broad-brimmed slouch hat
pulled well down over his eyes, his hands thrust deep in his
trousers pockets.
Off under the big top the band was playing a lively tune, 
and the side-show people were out in front sunning themselves,
all discussing Phil Forrest's mysterious disappearance.
After a short time, Mr. Sparling espied a young man in uniform
coming on the lot.  He did not pay much attention to the
stranger, thinking the fellow was a police officer or something
of the sort.
As the young man drew nearer, however, the showman thought he
noted something familiar in the springy step and the poise of
"Now, who is that?" he muttered.  "Somehow I seem to know 
that youngster."
Others about the main entrance were also looking in his direction
about that time.  Still no one seemed to recognize the young man.
All at once the showman tilted up the rim of his hat and gazed
more keenly.
"Phil!" he shouted, casting the hat aside and running forward
with outstretched arms.  "It's Phil, it's Phil Forrest!"
A moment more and Mr. James Sparling had clasped his little
Circus Boy about the waist, hugging him delightedly.  There was a
suspicious moisture in the eyes of the showman, which he sought
to hide from Phil.
"Phil!  Phil!  Where have you been?" he cried leading the boy
toward the office tent.  "And that uniform--what does it mean?"
"I will tell you all about it as soon as I get my breath,"
laughed the lad.
By this time the others out in front had hurried forward,
showering questions upon the boy, all of which he answered
without giving very much information.  He wished to talk with
Mr. Sparling first of all.
"Where is Teddy?" was almost his first question.
"He is in the big top at work."
"I presume he was considerably excited when he missed me, was
"Yes, at first, but since then he has not said much.  Teddy is
a queer boy."
The word was quickly passed that Phil had returned safe and
sound, and ten minutes after his arrival every man and woman
in the show had heard the news.  There was great rejoicing.
Teddy was going through his clown act when he first heard the
rumor that Phil was back.  Teddy waited until he had worked
around to the entrance to the menagerie tent when he suddenly
darted through, leaving his work and the ring, a most serious
breach of discipline.  Teddy, however, did not care.  He was
willing to be fined.  He bolted through the main entrance like
a miniature tornado, to the amazement of the door tenders.
"Where's Phil?" he shouted.
One of the doormen pointed to Mr. Sparling's office tent.
The little clown was off on a run.
"Hey, Phil, you old rascal!  Where have you been?" he demanded,
dashing into the small tent.
"I have been out for a swim, old fellow.  Did you miss me?"
"I nearly broke my neck thinking about you this afternoon. 
Landed on my head in the leaping act, and I've got a pain
in my neck yet."
"Young man, what are you doing here?" demanded the
showman, sternly.
"Same thing you are.  Seeing Phil."
"Get back to your act!"
"I'm off.  I'll see you later, Phil, then we will talk it over."
"We will, Teddy," and Teddy was off at top speed to take
up his performance where he had so abruptly left it a few
minutes before.  The ringmaster had not missed him, though
he saw at once that the boy was not on his station, when
Teddy began to work again.
"Now, Phil, we will hear all about it.  How in the name of the
Sparling shows did you get into that uniform?"
"The captain of the river boat that picked me up fitted me out."
"So you really fell in?"
"I got _in,_ right."
"Tell me all about it."
The Circus Boy related his experiences from the time he found
himself in the river, until his arrival in Memphis that morning.
"Marvelous--almost unbelievable," breathed Mr. Sparling as the
tale was unfolded.  "I never heard anything to compare with it."
When Phil told of his speech in the dining saloon of the river
steamboat, Mr. Sparling leaned back with hands on his hips,
laughing immoderately.
"Oh, Phil, you are the sort from which great showmen are made!"
Phil handed over the Memphis paper with the account of his
experience, which the showman glanced over briefly.
"That will give us another turn-away in Memphis.  You can't stop
them, after that.  They will come to the show even if they have
to fight their way in.  That was a great stroke of enterprise,
but I would rather it had not happened, of course."
"What--the interview?"
"No, of course not.  I mean your accident."
"It is all right, Mr. Sparling.  I am here now, and none the 
worse for my bath, but for a time I surely thought I was a goner.
I would not care to go through that experience again."
"I should say not.  Yours was the most wonderful escape I ever
heard of.  I'll wager there was never anything like it before on
this river."
Mr. Sparling paused suddenly and bent a keen, searching glance on
Phil Forrest's face.  The lad felt that he knew what was in the
mind of his employer.
"You have not told me everything, yet."
"What makes you think that, Mr. Sparling?"
"Because I know you so well.  There is something on your mind
that you have not told me.  I want to know what it is."
Phil's eyes were lowered to the green grass at his feet.  For a
moment he was silent and thoughtful.
"What is it you wish me to tell you, Mr. Sparling?" he asked in a
"You have not given me a satisfactory explanation of how you came
to get into the river."
"Perhaps I fell in," answered the lad with a faint smile.
"Perhaps.  But you have not said so.  I want you to tell me how
you did get in."
"I think I was thrown in, Mr. Sparling," answered the 
Circus Boy quickly.
"Thrown in!" exclaimed the showman, leaping to his feet, his face
working convulsively in his effort to control his emotions.  
"Phil Forrest, do you mean that?"
Mr. Sparling sat down helplessly.
"Is it possible?"
"I am sure of it, sir."
"Had anyone but you told me that I should have laughed.  I know
I can depend upon what you say.  Tell me more about it?"
"As I have already said, I was leaning on the rail and dropped
off into a doze.  How long I had been in that position I do
not know.  I could not have been there many minutes, or I
should have gone so soundly asleep that I would have fallen
over to the deck, you know."
"All at once I felt myself being lifted.  At first, as I remember
it, the sensation was as if the deck were dropping from under me.
As I recalled the incident afterwards, I realized that I had 
been lifted.  You know all that occurred after that."
"Was there more than one who threw you overboard?"
"I am unable to say.  I did not even see one," said Phil with 
a half-smile.  "I felt myself being lifted--that's all.  The next
minute I was in the river, with the 'Marie' pounding away
downstream at a lively clip."
"Dastardly!  Dastardly!" growled the showman.  "I shall send for 
a detective to meet us in Memphis tomorrow.  This thing has gone
far enough."
"I think I agree with you, sir," was Phil's half-humorous answer.
"But I had been in hopes of solving this mystery myself."
"Yes, and you came near losing your life as the result.  
No, sir!  This thing must be cleared up at once.  I shall wire to
St. Louis now, and we will have a man with us sometime tomorrow.
Say nothing to anyone of my plan.  The detective will join 
the show in some capacity or other, and have regular duties 
to perform.  You will know him, but no one else will 
except myself.  I think the Roman races are about due under the
big top now.  Suppose you go in and change your clothes, joining
me at my table after you come out.  We will talk these matters
over at length this evening.  When the officer reaches here I
shall expect you to tell him freely all that you know as well 
as what you suspect.  Keep nothing from him.  Run along, Phil.  
I want to think this matter over by myself for a few minutes."
As Phil entered the big top the Roman races were just coming on. 
The chariot drivers, with their prancing steeds, had entered 
Phil paused to wait until the fast and furious races were over. 
The leading woman chariot driver was trying out a new three-horse
team; that is, two of the horses were new to the work, the third,
being an old hand.  The new animals were spirited, and after the
first round of the arena, Phil saw that they were nervous.
"I am afraid she is going to have trouble with that pair,"
muttered Phil with a shake of his head.  "If she can keep them
up to the mark, they will outrun anything in the show today."
The new team fairly tore around the arena.  They won the first
races easily, then lined up in the center to await the finals
which were to follow a few minutes later.
The ringmaster's whistle trilled for the successful drivers to
swing out into the concourse.  They were driving furiously,
almost before the echoes of the whistle had died away.
Making the turn at the lower end of the track in safety, the two
teams in the race squared away down the home stretch.  All at
once Phil saw that something was wrong.  The leading chariot was
swaying dizzily, and the driver was trying with all her strength
to pull the plunging animals down.
Suddenly the wheel on the inner side slipped from its axle and
went rolling off into the center of the arena.  The axle dropped
to the turf, caught, then turned the chariot bottom side up.
The woman driver was hurled off into the center in the wake of
the careening wheel, landing on her head and shoulders beside the
center platform.
The team did not stop, however.  It started directly across the
arena, in a diagonal course.
"She is hurt!" cried Phil.  "Somebody will be killed unless that
wild team is stopped!"
Giving no thought to the danger to himself, Phil Forrest darted
across the arena and leaped for the bridles of the plunging,
frightened animals.
CHAPTER XXIV
It seemed a foolhardy thing to do, but Phil understood exactly
how to go about it.  If he were able to turn the team, he would
undoubtedly save them from plunging into the seats where hundreds
of people were sitting.  A trained circus horse always will avoid
the spectators, but there is no accounting for what a green
animal will do.
Grasping the bit of the animal nearest to him, Phil threw his
whole weight into the effort.  To his intense satisfaction the
team swerved, half turned and dashed across the arena again.  
This time, however, they did not go far.  The outfit smashed into
the main center pole, and Phil went on, sitting down violently in
the middle of the concourse, unhurt, but more or less shaken up.
By that time ring attendants had caught the frightened horses. 
All danger was over.
Phil Forrest was loudly cheered by the spectators, but his
borrowed officer's uniform was a hopeless wreck.  It was torn
beyond any possibility of repair.
Upon investigation, which Phil made at once, he found that the
cap that held the chariot wheel in place, had been removed. 
No trace of it ever was found, and Phil well knew that the
mysterious enemy was once more at work.  The news was conveyed
to Mr. Sparling, with the information that Phil had gleaned.
He also bore the unwelcome tidings to his employer that their
leading woman chariot driver had broken both arms and that she
would not perform again that season, if ever again.
Mr. Sparling was so angered over this latest outrage that he was
scarcely able to control himself.  Yet he knew that it would be
best to maintain silence until the detective had had an
opportunity to make an investigation.  Some of the circus people,
however, had voiced a suspicion that the accident was a
deliberate attempt to do the show an injury, and this was quickly
passed from lip to lip, until almost everyone had heard it.  
The show people accepted the situation quietly, as was their
wont, nevertheless they were very much excited.  There was no
telling when they themselves might fall victims to the mysterious
enemy, and each one vowed to run down the scoundrel who they knew
must be a member of the circus family.
Phil made some guarded inquiries, but was unable to learn
whether or not anyone had been observed about the chariots 
that day.  The hub cap, of course, might have been removed
while the chariots were still on the boat, but in that event
its loss would no doubt have been noticed, for the caps were
of brass, large and prominent.
Phil decided that the act must have been committed just before
the chariots were driven into the arena for the Roman races.
In this, Phil Forrest was right.
The solution of the mystery was at hand, however, and was to come
in a most unexpected manner.
Supper had been eaten, and most of the performers were out on
the lot, enjoying the balmy air of the early evening for the few
moments left to them before they would be obliged to repair to
the dressing tent to make ready for the evening performance.
Phil decided to go in, after finishing a talk with Mr. Sparling
in the latter's private tent.  As the lad passed through the
menagerie tent the attendants were lighting the gasoline lamps
there and hauling them up the center poles.
Under the big top, however, one could not see half its length.  
The lights there would not be turned on for fifteen or twenty
minutes yet.  Not a person was in sight as Phil entered the tent,
making his way slowly down the concourse.  He paused half-way
down, seating himself on a grandstand chair in one of the arena
boxes, where he thought over the latest exploit of the 
show's enemy.
"This time they were not after me, but after the outfit itself,"
he muttered.  "That is the time the fellow showed his hand, and
it gives me an idea.  I--hello, there is someone who acts as if
he did not wish to be seen."
Phil sat still and watched.  Someone had slipped in under the
tent down at the other end, directly across the arena from where
the bandstand was located.  It had now become so dark in the tent
that Phil could not make out the fellow's features.  In fact, the
man was a mere shadow.
"I wonder what he is doing there?"
Then a thought struck Phil Forrest like a blow.
"That's where they put the big net between performances."
Phil crept down into the arena and made his way back to the
entrance to the menagerie tent, where he quickly slipped out 
into the open and ran down along the outside of the big top 
at his best speed.  As he drew near the spot where he had seen 
the man, he moved cautiously.
Finally Phil dropped down and peered under the tent.  He was less
than ten feet from where the fellow was at work.  The Circus Boy
could catch a "rip, rip" now and then.
"The fiend is cutting the net," he muttered.  "I wonder who 
he is.  Ah, I know him now!  He is one of the tent men.  I never
thought he was in this thing.  I must catch him--I must make the
attempt, for he may get away.  I don't even know the fellow's
name, nor do I understand his enmity toward the show or myself."
Phil wriggled in under the tent, now, not fearing discovery, for
inside the tent, it was quite dark.  Slowly raising himself to
his feet, he edged nearer, step by step, to where the man was 
at work.  The man had partly spread the net out by this time, 
to make sure that he was cutting it in the right place so that 
it would give way beneath the weight of the performer unfortunate
enough to drop into it first.
"The fiend!" repeated Phil, clenching his fists.  "I'm glad I am
the one to discover him.  Mr. Man, I have a score to settle with
you and I'm going to begin the settling up now."
Phil crouched low.  He was now only a few feet from the 
stooping figure.
All at once the boy threw himself forward.  He landed on the man,
forcing him to the ground.  As he struck, Phil raised his voice
in the showmen's rallying cry.
"_Hey, Rube!_" he shouted in a sing-song voice that was heard in
the dressing tents and even out in the menagerie tent.
His first care, then, was to pinion the man so he could not use
his hands, for the Circus Boy knew that his captive had a knife 
in one hand.
Men came running from all directions, Mr. Sparling among the
number, for he had been in the menagerie tent when the cry
reached him, and feared some fresh trouble was at hand.
"What is it?  Where is it?" roared the showman.
"Here, here!  Bring lights.  Bring--"
The man beneath him began to struggle.  In fact the fellow
staggered to his feet, the boy being too light to hold him down.
Phil grabbed him about the waist, pinioning the man's arms to 
his sides.  Then began a desperate struggle, during which the
combatants fell to the ground, rolling over and over in their
fierce battle.
"It's Phil Forrest!" shouted the owner.
He sprang forward and with a mighty tug, jerked the tentman free
of the Circus Boy's body.  At that instant the fellow leaped to
his feet and started to run.
"Stop him!" howled Phil.
Teddy, who had come running up, suddenly stooped over and
constituting himself a battering ram, ran full tilt into the
tentman, the boy's head landing in the pit of the circus 
hand's stomach.  The fellow went down, whereupon Teddy 
promptly sat on him until the others reached the scene.
"Now, what does this mean?" demanded the showman sternly.
"It means that I caught this fellow cutting the net.  If you will
look at it you will find it to be badly mutilated, I think."
An examination proved that Phil was right.  Mr. Sparling had all
he could do to prevent the angry circus men from wreaking their
vengeance on the wretch then and there.
Teddy, in the meantime, had been peering into the man's face.
"I know him!  I know him!" howled the Circus Boy, dancing about.
"You know him?"
"Yes, do you remember Bad Eye who was mixed up with Red Larry,
the fellow we sent to jail two or three seasons ago?"
"That's Bad Eye," pointing to the prisoner, "and he is bad
medicine, besides."
"Is it possible?" muttered Phil, a new light breaking over him.
Suddenly Teddy uttered a yell.
"I've got him!  He's the fellow who stole my egg."  Teddy made a
dive for the prisoner, but strong hands pulled him away.
Bad Eye, it developed, smarting under the punishment that had
been meted out to his companion, had once more joined the show,
determined upon revenge.  He had in the meantime grown a full
beard, so that no one recognized him.  Now, Phil Forrest knew why
the voice was dimly familiar to him when he had heard it that
night out on the lot.
Caught red-handed, Bad Eye made a full confession.  And to the
surprise of everyone, he implicated Manuel, the assistant to
the Spanish clown.  Bad Eye admitted having thrown Phil Forrest
overboard, as well.  He denied having stolen Tucker's egg,
placing the full responsibility for this on the shoulders 
What was done with the egg was never known, though Manuel was
believed to have thrown it overboard.  Diaz, after his one
violent outbreak, had made no further evil attempts.
Bad Eye and Manuel were tried and convicted in due time, and
placed where they would do the show no further harm.
The show went on, and after several successful weeks, reached 
New Orleans, where the final performance of the season was given.
All hands then turned their faces northward.  Teddy and Phil
decided to take a steamship for New York, thence proceeding to
their home by train.  Each lad was a few thousand dollars richer
than when he had joined out in the spring.
They waved their adieus to Mr. Sparling from the deck of an ocean
steamer next morning as the big ship slowly poked its nose out
into the gulf.
"You can't down the Circus Boys," said Phil, with a pleased smile
as they leaned over the rail.
"At least, not this season," added Teddy.
But the exciting experiences of the Circus Boys were not yet at
an end.  The lads will be heard from further in another volume,
under the title: "THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE PLAINS; Or, The Young
Advance Agents Ahead of the Show."
In this forthcoming volume the lads pass through a phase of
circus life never experienced by them before.  They will find,
too, that all the thrills of the circus life are not confined
to the sawdust arena, but that there is every whit as much
excitement and real peril in the daily life of the advance man
on the advertising car ahead of the show.
This Etext was prepared for Project Gutenberg by Greg Berckes
The Circus Boys on the Plains
The Young Advance Agents Ahead of the Show
By EDGAR B. P. DARLINGTON
CHAPTER I--ON THE OWNER'S PRIVATE CAR
The English Fat Girl gets mired on the lot.  Teddy Tucker
threatens to thrash the "Strongest Man on Earth."  The hazards of
a circus life.  Teddy would put the whole show out of business.
Phil and his chum assigned to Advance Car Number Three.
CHAPTER II--OFF FOR NEW FIELDS
"Boss Sparling seems in an awful hurry to get rid of us."
Circus Boys meet a cold reception.  Phil is made a
"barn climber."  Teddy threatens to wring the car manager's neck.
"Soak him, Phil!" yells the boy on the pile of railroad ties.
CHAPTER III--COMING TO AN UNDERSTANDING
Phil gets into action.  "I've had enough!" groans the
car manager.  A telegram to the owner complains of the
Circus Boys.  "Either you get off this car or I do."  The advance
car is a bedlam.  More trouble for the Circus Boys is in sight.
CHAPTER IV-INTRODUCED TO THE CREW
Circus Boys meet "Rosie the Pig" and other notables.  The porter
tells how Phil worsted Mr. Snowden.  What a "contract hotel" is.
Teddy decides to take bean soup.  "Why didn't the contracting
agent sign us up with a livery stable?"
CHAPTER V--THE MIDNIGHT ALARM
How an advance car is operated.  The "banner man" and his little
magnetic hammer.  "You're a bird on the trapeze."  The boys
exchange confidences on snoring.  Circus Boys go to sleep on
beds of paper.  Aroused by a great uproar.
CHAPTER VI--ALMOST A TRAGEDY
"He's fallen into the paste can headfirst!"  Teddy Tucker has
a narrow escape from death.  The manager gives Phil a ducking.
"Rain-in-the-Face" sees a great light.  An irate car manager.
How Teddy took his revenge on Mr. Snowden.
CHAPTER VII--THE FIRST DAY'S EXPERIENCE
"He pulled me out of bed!"  Great excitement on Car Three.
Snowden hopes Phil will fall off and break his neck.
Young Forrest pastes a poster on himself.  "Young man,
you have a cast-iron nerve!"  The Circus Boy "squares"
a hard-shell farmer.
CHAPTER VIII--THE CIRCUS BOY WINS
Phil gets a silo, and a hog pen for good measure.
Farmers witness a circus stunt not down on the bills.
A narrow escape.  Taking a desperate chance.  Phil "the champeen
of them all."  Circus sheets that stood out like a fire on
the landscape.
CHAPTER IX--TEDDY GETS INTO TROUBLE
Blue jeans replace pink tights.  When it rained paste.  "I didn't
know you had your nose stuck in the paste pot when I turned on
the steam."  Teddy sets himself the task of reforming a
"crazy man."  The trouble maker is named "Spotted Horse."
"You're discharged!"
CHAPTER X--A SURPRISE, INDEED!
Billy Conley is up to tricks.  Mr. Sparling takes a hand.
The car manager gets his deserts.  "You will hear great
things of Phil Forrest one of these days."  "I'm going to
thrash a man within an inch of his life!"  Phil hears an
amazing thing.
CHAPTER XI--THREE CHEERS AND A TIGER
Phil Forrest, Car Manager.  Dazed by an unexpected promotion.
Teddy graduates from the paste pot.  How circus money is spent.
The Circus Boys win new laurels.  Teddy becomes a press agent.
Phil makes a speech and is welcomed as "The Boss."
CHAPTER XII--FACING AN EMERGENCY
"Bad habit to go to bed on an empty stomach."  Teddy Tucker
discovers a rival on a side track.  "Here's trouble right from
the start!"  The new car manager gets into rapid-fire action.
"We must beat the 'opposition.'  Now, boys, it's up to you!"
The mine is laid.
CHAPTER XIII--A BAFFLED CAR MANAGER
"That fellow is playing a sharp trick."  Phil breakfasts with his
rival and extracts information from him.  "You ain't half as big
a fool as you look, are you?"  Bob Tripp gets a great shock.
Farmers guard Phil Forrest's posters with shot guns.
CHAPTER XIV--TEDDY WRITES A LETTER
Circus Boys steal a second march on the "opposition."
Teddy Tucker whoops for joy.  The new press agent begins work.
"Spotted Horse" has too many fingers for typing.  A suggestion
for billposters.  Circus Boys strike hard blows.
CHAPTER XV--IN AN EXCITING RACE
All surrounded in Kansas.  Three "opposition" cars
discovered in the same yard with Phil Forrest.  A race for
the country.  Paste cans dance a jig.  Rivals turned over
into a ditch.  A case of give and take.
CHAPTER XVI--A BATTLE OF WITS
When money made a big noise.  The canary car manager gets an
awful jolt.  "Be on your way, my little man," urges Phil sweetly.
"Turn out every man in town!  Run as if the Rhino of the Sparling
Circus were after you!"
CHAPTER XVII--THE CHARGE OF THE PASTE BRIGADE
The battle is on in earnest.  Trouble is on the air.
"Paste them, fellows!" howls Teddy.  "Look out!  The police
are coming!"  "I arrest you for disturbing the peace!"
Phil faces the officers of the law boldly and wins for his show.
CHAPTER XVIII--THE MISSING SHOW CARS
Congratulations from the show's owner.  Four rival advance cars
go out on one train.  Teddy sends the enemy's cars adrift.
Sleeping a sleep of innocence.  Phil is puzzled over the mystery
of the missing cars.  Teddy's expression arouses the suspicion of
CHAPTER XIX--PHIL'S DARING PLAN
Teddy Tucker admits his guilt.  Forrest reads "Spotted Horse"
a severe lecture.  "Is the sermon over?"  A lesson that bore
fruit for a day or so.  Pat "smells a rat."  "She's moving!
We're off!"  The Circus Boys adrift on a runaway car.
CHAPTER XX--ON A WILDCAT RUN
A dizzy ride through the storm.  "Don't bother me, I'm making
the next town!"  A thrilling moment.  Phil faces death with a
smile on his face.  "Hold fast, we're going to sideswipe them!"
The agent at Salina gets a surprise.
CHAPTER XXI--IN A PERILOUS POSITION
Teddy throws out his chest and seeks publicity.  "Spotted Horse"
has a daring plan.  The Circus Boy a hundred feet in the air.
Teddy takes a desperate chance to earn Phil Forrest's fifty.
Overtaken by disaster as the Sparling banner floats to
CHAPTER XXII--A DASH FOR LIBERTY
"Help!  I'm hung up!"  Teddy is suspended, head downward, between
earth and sky.  Phil hurries to the rescue.  "I'm all tied up in
a knot!" wails the unhappy Tucker.  Teddy takes a long drop,
landing on Billy's neck, and bowls over a policeman.
CHAPTER XXIII--THE DESERTED VILLAGE
A new trouble-plan in the making.  Teddy is so happy that he
can't go to bed.  The "opposition" is lost again.  Phil makes
his chum tell how he tricked the rival car managers.  How Phil
Forrest proved that he was a real manager.
CHAPTER XXIV--CONCLUSION
The manager of "The Greatest Show on Earth" wants Phil.
Setting out to "drive the other fellows off the map."  "No more
meals at the Sign of the Tin Spoon."  Circus Boys have a happy
windup to an exciting show season.
THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE PLAINS
ON THE OWNER'S PRIVATE CAR
The voice of James Sparling rose above even the roar of
A uniformed attendant stepped into the little office tent
occupied by the owner of the Great Sparling Combined Shows.
Shaking the water from his dripping cap, he brought a hand
to his forehead in precise military salute.
"How's the storm coming, Bates?" demanded the showman, with an
amused twinkle in his eyes as he noted the bedraggled condition
of his messenger.
"She's coming wet, sir," was the comprehensive reply.
And indeed "she" was.  The gale was roaring over the circus lot,
momentarily threatening to wrench the billowing circus tents from
their fastenings, lift them high in the air preparatory to
distributing them over the surrounding country.  Guy ropes were
straining at their anchorages, center and quarter poles were
beating a nervous tattoo on the sodden turf.  The rain was
driving over the circus lot in blinding sheets.
The night was not ideal for a circus performance.  However, the
showmen uttered no protest, going about their business as
methodically as if the air were warm and balmy, the moon and
stars shining down over the scene complacently.
Now and again, as the wind shifted for a moment toward the
showman's swaying office tent, the blare of the band off under
the big top told him the show was moving merrily on.
"Bates, you are almost human at times.  I had already observed
that the storm was coming wet," replied the showman.
"I have reason to be aware of the fact that 'she is coming wet,'
as you so admirably put it.  My feet are at this moment in a
puddle of water that is now three inches above my ankles.
Why shouldn't I know?"
"Yes, sir," agreed the patient attendant.
"What I want to know is how are the tents standing the blow?"
"Very well, sir."
"As long as there is a stitch of canvas over your head you take
it for granted that the tops are all right, eh?"
"The emergency gang is on duty, of course?"
"They're out in the wet, sir."
"Of course; that is where they belong on a night like this.
But what were you doing out there?  You have no business that
calls you outside."
"I was helping a lady, sir."
"Helping a lady?"
"What lady?"
"The English Fat Girl got mired on the lot, sir, and I was
helping to get her out," answered the attendant solemnly.
"You will please attend to your own business after this.  If the
English Fat Girl gets mired again we will have the elephant
trainer bring over one of the bulls and haul her out.  She won't
be so anxious to get stalled after that, I'm thinking," snapped
the showman.
"What act is on now under the big top?"
"The ground tumblers are in the ring, sir."
Mr. Sparling reflected briefly.
"Has Mr. Forrest finished his work for the evening?"
"I think so, sir.  He should be off by this time."
"Can you get to the dressing tent without finishing the job of
drowning at which you already have made such a good start?"
demanded the showman quizzically.
"Yes, sir," grinned Bates.
"Then, go there."
The attendant started to leave the tent.
"Come back here!" bellowed the showman.
Bates turned patiently.  He was not unused to the strange whims
of his employer.
"What are you going to do when you get to the dressing tent?"
"I don't know, sir."
"I thought not.  You are an intelligent animal, Bates.
Now listen!"
Mr. Sparling scowled, surveying his messenger with narrowed eyes.
"Tell Mr. Philip Forrest that I wish to see him in my private car
at the 'runs,'"--meaning that part of the railroad yards where
the show had unloaded early that morning.
"Wait!  You seem anxious to get wet!  Have the men strike my tent
at once.  It is likely to strike itself if they do not get busy
pretty quick," added the showman, rising.
The messenger saluted, then hurried out into the driving storm,
while Mr. Sparling methodically gathered up the papers he had
been studying, stuffing them in an inside coat pocket.
"A fine, mellow night," he said to himself, peering out through
the flap as he drew on his oilskins.  Pulling the brim of his
sombrero down over his eyes he stalked out into the storm.
A quick glance up into the skies told his experienced eyes that
the worst of the storm had passed, and that there was now little
danger of a blow-down that night.  He started off across the
circus lot, splashing through the mud and water, bound for his
comfortable private car that lay on a siding about half a mile
from the circus grounds.
He found a scene of bustle and excitement in the railroad yards,
where a small army of men were rushing the work of loading the
menagerie wagons on the first section, for the train was going
out in three sections that night.
"It is a peculiar fact," muttered the showman, "that the worse
the weather is, the louder the men seem called upon to yell.
However, if yelling makes them feel any the less wet, I don't
know why I should object."
The showman quickly changed his wet clothes and settled himself
at the desk in his cosy office on board the private car.  He had
been there something like half an hour when the buzzing of an
electric bell called the porter to the door of the car.
A moment later and Phil Forrest appeared at the door of the car.
"You sent for me, did you not, Mr. Sparling?"
"Why, good evening, Phil," greeted the showman, looking up
quickly with a welcoming smile on his face.
"I call it a very bad evening, sir."
"Very well, we will revise our statement.  Bad evening, Phil!"
"Same to you, Mr. Sparling," laughed the lad.  "Yes, I think that
fits the case very well indeed."
"And now that we have observed the formalities, come in and
sit down.  Are you wet?"
"No; I went to my car and changed before coming in.  I thought a
few minutes' delay would make no difference.  Had you sent for me
on the lot I would have reported more promptly."
"Quite right, my boy.  No, there was nothing urgent.  The storm
did not interfere much with the performance, did it?"
"No.  The audience was a little nervous at one time, but the
scare quickly passed off."
"Where's your friend?"
"Teddy Tucker?"
"He was having an argument with the Strongest Man on Earth
when I left the dressing tent," laughed Phil.  "It was
becoming quite heated."
"Over what?"
"Oh, Teddy insisted on sitting on the strong man's trunk while he
took off his tights.  There was a mud hole in front of Teddy's
trunk and he did not wish to get his feet wet and muddy."
"So the Strongest Man on Earth had to wait, eh?" questioned the
showman with an amused smile.
"Yes.  Teddy was threatening to thrash him if he did not keep off
until he got his shoes on."
Mr. Sparling leaned back, laughing heartily.
"Your friend Teddy is getting to be a very belligerent young man,
"_Getting_ to be?"
"It is my opinion that he always has been.  Teddy can stir up
more trouble, and with less provocation, than anyone I ever knew.
But, you had something you wished to say to me, did you not?"
"To be sure I had.  Something quite important.  Have you had
your lunch?"
"No; I came directly to the train from the lot."
"I am glad of that.  I thought you would, so I ordered supper
for two spread in the dining compartment.  It must be ready
by this time.  Come.  We will talk and eat at the same time.
We have no need to hurry."
The showman and the Circus Boy made their way to the dining
compartment, where a small table had been spread for them, which,
with its pretty china, cut glass and brightly polished silver,
made a very attractive appearance.
"This looks good to me," smiled Phil appreciatively.
"Especially on a night like this," answered Mr. Sparling.
"Be seated, and we will talk while we are waiting for supper
to be served."
Readers of the preceding volumes of this series will need
no introduction to Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker.  They well
remember how the Circus Boys so unexpectedly made their entry
into the sawdust arena in "THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS"
after Phil by his quick wit had prevented a serious accident
to the lion cage and perhaps the escape of the dangerous
beast itself.  Both boys had quickly worked their way into
the arena, and after many thrilling experiences became
full-fledged circus performers.
Again in "THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT," the lads won new
laurels on the tanbark.  It will be recalled, too, how Phil
Forrest at the imminent risk of his own life trailed down and
captured a desperate man, one of the circus employees who, having
been discharged, had followed the Sparling Show, seeking to
revenge himself upon it.  It will be remembered that in order to
capture the fellow, the Circus Boy was obliged to leap from a
rapidly moving train and plunge down a high embankment.
But their exciting experiences were by no means at an end.
The life of the showman is full of excitement and it seemed
as if Teddy and Phil Forrest met with more than their share in
"THE CIRCUS BOYS IN DIXIE LAND." Phil Forrest, while performing
a mission for his employer, was caught by a rival circus owner,
held captive for some days, then forced to perform in the rival's
circus ring, leaping through rings of fire in a bareback
riding act.  The details of Phil's exciting escape from his
captors are well remembered, as will be his long, weary journey
over the railroad ties in his ring costume.  It was in this
story that the battle of the elephants was described, all due
to the shrewd planning of Phil Forrest.
The following season found the Great Sparling Shows following a
new route.  In "THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI," the lads
embarked with the circus, on boats, which carried them from town
to town along the big river.  It was on this trip that Phil
Forrest met with the most thrilling experience of his life, and
it was only his own pluck and endurance that saved him from a
watery grave at the bottom of the Mississippi.
And now, for the fifth season, the Circus Boys are found under
canvas again, headed for the far west.
"How are things going with you?" questioned Mr. Sparling
after the two had seated themselves at the table in the
dining compartment.
"Rather slowly, Mr. Sparling."
"How is that?"
"I haven't enough to do this season.  I am afraid I shall get
lazy, unless you give me something else to do."
"Let me see; how many acts have you this season?"
"I am on the flying trapeze, then I do a single bareback
riding act and a double with Little Dimples, the same as I
did last season."
The showman nodded reflectively.
"Besides which, you attend to numerous business details for me,
manage the side shows, keep an eye on the candy butchers, make
yourself responsible for the menagerie tent and other things too
numerous to mention.  Yes; you should have a few more things to
do," grinned the showman.  "I could run this show with a dozen
men like you, Phil.  In all my circus experience I never saw
your equal."
Phil flushed.  He did not like to be complimented.  He did his
work because he loved it, not wholly for the handsome salary that
he was now drawing from the little red ticket wagon every week.
Phil was ambitious; he hoped, as has been said before, to have a
show of his own someday, and he let no day pass that he did not
add to his store of knowledge regarding the circus business.
In this ambition Mr. Sparling encouraged him, in fact did
everything possible to aid the lad in acquiring a far-reaching
knowledge of the vocation he had chosen for his lifework.
"Thank you, Mr. Sparling.  Let's talk about something else."
"We will eat first.  You probably will enjoy that more than you
do my compliments."
"I am sure of it," answered the lad with a twinkle in his eyes.
"I have been thinking of giving you some additional work."
Phil glanced up at his employer with quickened interest.
"Yes, I am thinking of closing you."
"You mean you are thinking of dropping me from the show?" asked
the lad, gazing at the showman with steady, inquiring eyes.
"Well, I should hardly say that.  I am afraid the Sparling Show
could not get along without you.  I am thinking very seriously of
transferring you."
"Transferring me?" wondered Phil.
"Yes.  By the way, do you know much about the advance work, the
work ahead of the show?"
"Very little.  I might say nothing at all, except what I have
picked up by reading the reports of the car managers, together
with the letters you write to these men."
"That is all right, as far as it goes, but there is a deal more
to the advertising department of a show than you will ever learn
from reports and correspondence."
"So I should imagine."
"Yes; the success, the very existence of a circus is dependent
upon the work of the men ahead of it.  Let that work be
neglected and you would see how soon business would drop off
and the gate receipts dwindle, until, one day, the show would
find itself stranded."
"Nothing could strand the Sparling Show," interposed Phil.
"You are mistaken.  Bad management would put this show out of
business in two months' time.  That is a point that I cannot
impress upon you too strongly.  Any business will fail if not
properly attended to, but a circus is the most hazardous of
"But the risk is worth taking," remarked Phil.
"It is.  For instance, when a show has a business of sixteen or
eighteen thousand dollars a day for several weeks, it rather
repays one for all the trouble and worry he has gone through."
"I should say it does," answered Phil, his eyes lighting
up appreciatively.
"And now we come to the point I have been getting at."
"Yes; what is it you have in mind for me?"
"I am going to ask you to join the advance for the rest of the
season, Phil."
"I, join the advance?" questioned the lad in a surprised tone.
"And leave the show?"
"That will be a necessity, much as I regret to have you do so."
Phil's face took on a solemn expression.
"How would you like that?"
"I do not know, Mr. Sparling.  I am afraid I should not know
what to do with myself away from the glitter and the excitement
of the big show."
"Excitement?  My dear boy, you will find all the excitement
you want ahead of the show.  As for work, the work ahead is
never finished.  There is always plenty to do after you
have finished your day's work.  Besides, this branch of the
business you must familiarize yourself with, if you are to
go later into the executive branch of the circus business."
"I am ready to go wherever you may wish to send me,
Mr. Sparling," said the young man in a quiet tone.
"I knew you would be," smiled the showman.
"Where will you send me, and what am I to do?" asked Phil,
now growing interested in the prospect of the change.
"I have decided to send you out on Advertising Car Number Three.
That is the busiest car of the three in advance of the show.
You ask what you are to do.  I will answer--_everything!_"
"Car Three," mused the Circus Boy.
"Yes; it is in charge of Mr. Snowden," continued the showman with
a twinkle in his eyes, but which Phil in his preoccupation failed
to observe.  "I am thinking that Snowden will give you all you
want to do, and perhaps a little more."
"When do you wish me to join?"
"You may start as soon as you are ready."
"I am ready, now," replied the lad promptly.
"I did not mean for you to leave in quite such a hurry as that,"
laughed Mr. Sparling.  "Besides, this is rather a bad night to
make a change.  Take your time, get your things in shape, and
leave when you get ready."
"Does Mr. Snowden know I am to join him?"
"Yes; I have already written him to that effect--that is, I told
him you probably would join at an early day."
"Where is Car Three now?"
Mr. Sparling consulted his route card.
"It is in Madison, Wisconsin, today.  This car keeps about
four weeks ahead of the show, you know.  We are in Flint,
Michigan, today.  Do you think you can get away tomorrow?"
"Certainly.  Where do we show tomorrow?"
"It will be an easy jump from there to Madison."
"Yes; but you will not catch the car at Madison.  I think you had
better plan to join them at St. Paul the day after tomorrow.
Will that suit you?"
"Yes.  I suppose my dressing-room trunk will be carried right
along with the show?"
"Of course.  You will close your season before the show itself
does; then you can return to us, though I shall not expect you
to perform.  You no doubt will be a little rusty by that time."
"I should say I would be.  But, Mr. Sparling--" added the boy, a
sudden thought coming to him.
"What about Teddy?  Does he remain with the show?"
"Teddy?  I had forgotten all about that little rascal.  Yes, he--
but wait a moment.  Upon reflection I think perhaps he had better
go along with you.  He wants to own a show one of these days,
doesn't he?"
"I believe he does," smiled Phil.
"Then this will be a good experience for him.  Besides, I should
be afraid to trust him around this outfit if you were not here to
look after him.  He would put the whole show out of business
first thing I knew.  Yes, he had better go with you.  And another
thing--salaries in the advance are not the same, you know."
"I am aware of the fact, sir."
"You will draw the same salaries that other employees of Number
Three do, and in addition to this I shall send you both my
personal checks, so that you will be drawing the same money you
"It is not necessary," protested Phil.
Mr. Sparling waved the objection aside.
"It is my plan.  Go to your car and tell your friend to get
ready now, and report to me in the morning at Saginaw for
further instructions."
Phil rose.  His face was flushed.  He was now full of
anticipation for the new life before him.  And it was to be
a new life indeed--a life full of astonishing experiences
and adventures.
Phil bade his employer good night, and hurried away to his own
car to tell the news to Teddy.
OFF FOR NEW FIELDS
"Teddy, Teddy, wake up!" commanded Phil, hauling his companion
from his berth in the sleeping car.
Teddy scrambled out into the aisle of the car and promptly
showed fight.
"Here, what are you doing, waking me up this time of the night?"
he demanded.
"I have great news."
"News?" questioned the boy, showing some slight signs of interest
in the announcement.
"Yes, news, and good news, too."
"All right, I'm easy.  What is it?"
"We are to join the advance."
"Advance of what?"
"The advance of the Sparling Shows, of course," glowed Phil.
Teddy grew thoughtful.
"What, and leave the show?"
"Certainly."
"Not for mine!"
"Oh, yes, you will!  You know, we wish to learn all we can, and
neither of us knows anything about that end of the business.
It is a splendid opportunity, and we should be very grateful to
Mr. Sparling for giving us the chance.  Besides, it will be a
very pleasant life.  We shall be traveling in a private car,
with no responsibilities beyond our work.  Will it not be fine?"
"I--I don't know.  I shall have to try it first.  I decline to
commit myself in advance.  When do we go?"
"Pshaw!  Boss Sparling seems to be in an awful hurry to get
rid of us.  All right, I'll go.  I need a rest, anyway--for
my health.  I've been working too hard so far this season."
"Too bad about you," scoffed Phil.  "We leave from Saginaw as
early tomorrow as we can get away.  We shall have to get a few
things from our dressing-tent trunks, then pack up the things
we do not need, sending them on with the show."
"Do I take my donkey?" questioned Teddy, half humorously.
"Your mule?  The idea!  Now, what would you do with a donkey
on an advance car, I should like to know?"
"He might make things interesting for the rest of the crowd."
"I should say he would!  But, from what little I know of the
advance, you will have plenty to interest you without having an
ill-tempered donkey along.  Good night, Teddy.  This is our last
night with the show for a long time to come."
Phil made his way to his own berth, where he promptly went to
sleep, putting from his mind until the morrow all thought of what
lay before him.
Early the next morning both lads were awake; by the time their
section pulled in at Saginaw they had nearly completed the
packing of their personal baggage.
The rest was quickly accomplished, after they had eaten their
breakfast under the cook tent.  All preparations made, a final
interview with Mr. Sparling had, and good-byes said, the Circus
Boys boarded a train just as the strains of the circus band were
borne to their ears.
"The parade is on," said Phil as their train moved out.
"And we are not there to ride in it.  We'll have to get up
some sort of a parade for Car Number Three, I'm thinking,"
smiled Teddy.
Late that afternoon the boys reached St. Paul.
After considerable searching about they finally found Car
Number Three.  Mr. Snowden was not on board, so, telling the
porter who they were, the lads made themselves comfortable in
the office of the car, a roomy compartment, nicely furnished,
equipped with two folding berths, a desk, easy chairs and
other conveniences.
"This is pretty soft, I'm thinking," decided Teddy.
"It is very nice, if that is what you mean," corrected Phil.
"That's what I mean.  Do we live in here?"
"No; I should imagine we are to berth at the other end of
"Let's go look at it."
The other end of the car comprised one long apartment with
folding berths and benches for laying out the lithographs.
At the far end was a steam boiler, used in making paste with
which to post the bills.  That compartment had nothing either
of elegance or comfort.
"Do the men sleep on those shelves up there?" questioned Teddy of
"Shelves, sir?  Hi calls them berths, sir," answered the porter,
who was an Englishman.
"What do you think of our new home, Teddy?" smiled Phil.
"I've seen better," grumbled the Circus Boy.  "I think I prefer
the stateroom.  Where's the boss?"
"He's out just now looking over the work."
Teddy, with a scowl on his face, went outside to take a look
at the car from the outside.  The car was a bright red, with
the name of the Sparling Shows spread over its sides in
gilded letters.
"If the inside were half as good-looking as the outside, it would
be some car," was Teddy's conclusion, after walking all around
the car.  "I think I'll go back and join the show."
"Oh, be sensible, Teddy," chided Phil.  "We shall be very
comfortable after we once get settled.  Here comes Mr. Snowden,
Approaching them, the boys saw a thin, nervous-appearing man of
perhaps forty-five years of age.
"Are you Mr. Snowden?" asked Phil, politely.
"Yes; what do you want?"
"I am Phil Forrest, and this is my friend, Teddy Tucker.  We have
come on to join the car."
Mr. Snowden looked the lads over critically.
"Humph!" he said.  "Come inside."
Whether or not his survey of them had been satisfactory neither
"Now, what are you going to do on this car?" demanded the car
manager sharply, when they had seated themselves in his office.
"That is for you to say, sir.  We are at your disposal,"
replied Phil.
"What can you do?"
"We do not know.  This is entirely new work for us.  We have been
performers back with the show, you know."
"Humph!  Nice bunch to ring in on an advertising car!" grunted
the manager.  "Either of you know how to put up paper?"
"I think not."
"What do you mean by paper?" interposed Teddy.
The manager groaned.
"You don't know what paper is?"
"Paper is advertising matter, any kind of show bills that are
posted on billboards, barns or any other old place where we get
the chance.  Everything is paper on an advertising car.
Forrest, I think I'll send you out on a country route tomorrow.
Know what a country route is?"
"I think so."
"Well, in case you do not, I will tell you.  Every day we
send out men to post bills through the country.  The routes
are laid out by the contracting agent long before we get to
a town.  You go out in a livery rig, and you will have to
drive from thirty to forty miles a day.  You are an aerial
performer, are you not?"
"Then you will be able to climb barns all right.  We will call
you Car Number Three's barn-climber.  We'll see how good a
performer you really are.  For the first few days I will send you
out with one of the billposters; after that you will have to go
it alone.  If you are no good, back you go.  Understand?"
"I think so.  I shall do the best I can."
"And what do I do?" demanded Teddy.
The car manager eyed him disapprovingly.
"What do you do?"
"I have a nice gentlemanly job laid out for you.  You will
operate the steam boiler and make up the paste for the next day.
You'll wish you had stayed back with the show before I get
through with you."
"And I'll go there, too, if you talk like that to me," retorted
Teddy, flushing angrily.
"What's that?  What's that?" snapped the manager.  "See here,
young man, I am in charge of this car.  You will do as I tell
you, and if you get noisy about it I'll show you how we do things
on an advertising car.  Get out of here before I throw you out."
"See here, you, I won't be talked to like that.  I'll wring your
neck for you, some fine day, first thing you know!" bellowed
Teddy, now thoroughly aroused.
The manager grabbed the lad by the shoulders and shot him through
the screen doors before Teddy had an opportunity to object.
Teddy, red-faced and boiling with rage, was about to project
himself into the stateroom again when Phil motioned him to
go away.  Teddy did so reluctantly.
"Where do we sleep, Mr. Snowden?" inquired Phil, hoping to get
the car manager in a more gentle frame of mind by changing
the subject.
"Sleep on the roof, sleep in the cellar!  I don't care where
you sleep!  You get out of here, too, unless you want me to
throw you out!"
"I think you had better not do that, sir."  Phil's voice was cool
and pleasant.
"What's that!  What's that!  You dare to talk back to me.
"Wait a moment, Mr. Snowden.  We might as well understand each
other at the beginning."
The car manager's words seemed to stick in his throat.  He gazed
at the slender young fellow before him in amazement.  Mr. Snowden
was unused to having a man in his employ talk back to him, and
for the moment it looked as though trouble were brewing in the
stateroom of Car Number Three.
"Say it!" he exploded.
"I have very little to say, sir.  But what I have to say will
be to the point.  I am well aware that discipline must be
preserved here as well as back with the show.  I shall always
look up to you as my superior, and treat you in a gentlemanly
and respectful manner.  I shall hope that you, also, will treat
me in a gentlemanly manner as long as I deserve it, at least."
"You--you threaten me, you young cub--you--"
"No; I do not threaten you.  I am simply seeking to come to a
friendly understanding with you."
"And--and if--if I decide to treat you as I do the rest of my
men--what then?" sneered the manager.
"That depends.  I can answer that question when I see how you do
treat them.  From what I have seen, I should imagine they do not
lead a very happy existence," continued the Circus Boy with a
pleasant smile.
"If I keep you on this car I'll use you as I please, and the
quicker you understand that the better.  Now, what do you propose
"I propose," said Phil, still preserving an even tone, "to do my
duty and at the same time keep my self-respect.  I propose, if
you persist in directing insulting language at me, to give you a
thrashing that will last you all the rest of the season."
Teddy, who had sat down on a pile of railroad ties beside
the tracks, could see and hear all that was going on in
the stateroom.
"Soak him, Phil!" howled the boy on the tie pile.
Snowden's eyes blazed and his fingers opened and
closed convulsively.
With an angry growl he hurled himself straight at Phil Forrest.
COMING TO AN UNDERSTANDING
"Be careful, Mr. Snowden!" warned the Circus Boy, stepping out
of harm's way.  "I am not looking for trouble, but I shall
defend myself."
"I'll teach you to talk back to me.  I'll--"
Just then the car manager stumbled over a chair and went down
with a crash, smashing the chair to splinters.
"Mr. Sparling will not tolerate anything of this sort, I am
sure," added Phil.
By this time, the manager was once more on his feet.  His rage
was past all control.  With a roar of rage Snowden grabbed up a
rung of the broken chair and charged his slender
young antagonist.
A faint flush leaped into the face of Phil Forrest.  His eyes
narrowed a little, but in no other way did he show that his
temper was in the least ruffled.
The chair rung was brought down with a vicious sweep, but to
Snowden's surprise the weapon failed to reach the head of the
smiling Circus Boy.
Then Phil got into action.
Like a flash he leaped forward, and the car manager found his
wrists clasped in a vise-like grip.
"Let go of me!" he roared, struggling with all his might to free
himself, failing in which he began to kick.
Phil gave the wrists a skillful twist, which brought another howl
from Snowden, this time a howl of pain.
"I am not looking for trouble, sir.  Will you listen to reason?"
urged the lad.
"I'll--I'll--"
Snowden did not finish what he had started to say.  Instead he
moaned with pain, writhing helplessly in the iron grip of
Phil Forrest.
"Do you give up?  Have you had enough?"
"_No!_" gritted the car manager.
The Circus Boy tightened his grip ever so little.
"How about it?"
"Give him an extra twist for me," shouted Teddy.
"I give in!  Let go quick!  You'll break my wrists!"
"You promise to carry this thing no further if I release you?"
"I said I have had enough," cried Snowden angrily.
"That won't do.  Will you agree to let me alone, if I release
you now?" persisted Phil.
"Yes, yes!  I've had all I want.  This joke has gone far enough."
"You have a queer idea of jokes," smiled Phil, releasing his man
and stepping back, but keeping a wary eye on the car manager,
as the latter settled back into a chair, rubbing his wrists.
They still pained him severely.
"I am sorry if I hurt you, Mr. Snowden.  But I had to defend
myself in some way.  I could have been much more violent, but I
did not wish to be unnecessarily so."
"You were rough enough.  I've got no use for a fellow who can't
take a joke without getting all riled up over it.  Get out
"What are you doing at this end of the car?" snarled the manager
to Henry, the English porter, who had been peering into the
office, wide-eyed.  He had been a witness to the disturbance,
but at the manager's command he hastily withdrew to his own end
"Shall we shake hands and be friends now, Mr. Snowden?"
"Shake hands?"
"Yes, of course."
"No.  I'll not shake hands with you.  I want nothing further to
do with you.  Either you get off this car, or I do.  We can't
both live on it at the same time."
"So far as I am concerned, we can do so easily," answered the
"I said either you or I would have to get off, and I mean exactly
what I said."
The manager wheeled his chair about, facing his desk, and wrote
the following telegram:
Mr. James Sparling,
     Saginaw, Michigan.
I demand that you call back the two boys who joined my car today.
Either they close or I do.  They're a couple of young ruffians.
If they remain another day I'll not be responsible for what I do
     Snowden.
The car manager handed the message to Phil.  "Read it,"
Phil glanced through the message, smiling broadly as he returned
it to the manager.
"That certainly is plain and to the point."
"I'm glad you think so.  Take that message to the telegraph
office, and send it at once."
Mr. Snowden had expected a refusal, but Phil rose obediently and
left the car.  He took the message to a telegraph office, Teddy
accompanying him.
"Why didn't you finish him while you were about it, Phil?"
demanded Teddy.  "You had him just to rights."
"I did quite enough as it was, Teddy.  I am very sorry for what
I did, but it had to come."
"It did.  If you hadn't done it I should have had to," nodded
Teddy rather pompously.  "But I shouldn't have let him off as
easily as you did.  I certainly would have given him
a rough-and-tumble."
"It is a bad enough beginning as it is.  Now, Teddy, I want you
to behave yourself and not stir up any trouble--"
"Stir up trouble?  Well, I like that.  Who's been stirring up
trouble around here, I'd like to know.  Answer me that!"
"I accept the rebuke," laughed Phil.  "I am the guilty one this
time, and I'm heartily ashamed to admit it at that."
"What do you think Mr. Sparling will do?"
"I don't know.  I can't help but think he had some purpose in
sending us on to join this car, other than that which he told us.
However, time will tell.  We are in for an unpleasant season, but
we must make the best of our opportunity and learn all we can
about this end of the business."
"I've learned enough this afternoon to last me for a whole
season," answered Teddy grimly.
By the time they returned to the car the men had come in from the
country routes, as had the lithographers who had been placing
bills in store windows about the town.
"He's at it again," grinned Teddy, as the voice of the manager
was heard roaring at the men.  Snowden was charging up and down
the car venting his wrath on the men, threatening, browbeating,
expressing his opinion of all billposters in language more
picturesque than elegant.  Not a man replied to his tirade.
"Evidently they are used to that sort of treatment," nodded Phil.
"Well it doesn't go with me at all.  Come on; let's go in and see
what it's all about."
INTRODUCED TO THE CREW
"And the next man who puts up only two hundred sheets in a day
gets off this car!" concluded Snowden with a wave of the hand
that took in every man in the car.  "Get in your reports, and get
them in quick, or I'll fire the whole bunch of you now!" he
roared, turning and striding to his office, where he jerked the
sliding door shut with a bang that shook the car.
"Well, the boss has 'em bad tonight, for sure," exclaimed Billy
Conley who bore the title of assistant car manager, but who was
no more manager than was Henry, the English porter.
"Hello, who are you?" demanded one of the men, as Phil and Teddy
stepped in through the rear door of the coach.
"Good evening, boys," greeted Phil easily.
All eyes were turned on the newcomers.
"Howdy, fellows," said Teddy good-naturedly.
"Fine, large evening."
Everybody laughed.
"Are you the boys who joined out today, from back with the show?"
asked Conley.
"Yes.  Let me introduce myself.  I am Phil Forrest and this, my
companion, is Teddy Tucker.  We're green as grass, and we shall
have to impose upon your good nature to set us straight."
The Circus Boys had won the good opinion of the men of Car Three
at the outset.
"That's the talk," agreed Billy.  "Line up here and I'll
introduce you to the bunch.  The skinny fellow over there by
the boiler is Chief Rain-in-the-Face.  The one next to him
is Slivers.  The freakish looking gentleman standing at my
right is Krao, the Missing Link.  On my left is Baby Egawa--"
"Otherwise known as Rosie the Pig," added a voice.
"Everybody on an advance car has a nickname, you know.
You'll forget your real names, if you stay on an advance
car long enough.  I couldn't remember mine if I didn't get
a letter occasionally to remind me of it, and sometimes I
almost feel as if I was opening another fellow's letters
when I open my own."
"Glad to know you, boys," smiled Phil.  "Do you know where we are
"See that pile of paper up there?"
"Well, it's that or the floor for yours.  All the rest of the
berths are occupied, unless the Boss is going to let you sleep
in the office with him."
"I rather think he will not invite us.  He seems to be in a huff
about something tonight," answered Phil dryly, at which there was
a loud laugh.
"What's this Johnnie Bull tells me about a roughhouse in the
office this afternoon?" demanded Conley suddenly.
"I would rather not talk about that," replied Phil, coloring.
"Come here, you Englishman, and tell us all about it.  Our friend
is too modest."
The porter did not respond quickly enough to suit the men so they
pounced upon him and tossed him to the top of a pile of paper.
"Now, talk up, or its the paste can for yours," they demanded.
Henry rather haltingly described what he had seen in the
stateroom that afternoon, describing in detail how Phil had
worsted the manager of the car.
When the recital had been concluded, all hands turned and
surveyed Phil curiously.
"Well, who would have thought it?" wondered Rosie, in an
Krao, the Missing Link, and Baby Egawa sidled up to Phil and
gingerly felt his arm muscles.
"Woof!" exclaimed the Baby.  "Bad medicine!  Heap big muscle!"
"That's so.  I had forgotten you boys were performers back with
the show," nodded Billy.  "What are you up here for--learning
this end of the business?"
"Yes; that is what we are here for," answered Phil.
"Mr. Sparling wished us to do so."
"You have come to a good place to learn it," emphasized Conley.
"But you'll have to fight your way through.  You have done a
mighty good job in downing the Boss, but look out for him.
He'll never forget it.  If he doesn't get you fired, he will get
even with you in some other way."
Phil laughed.
"I'll do my duty.  But I am not afraid of him.  Are all car
managers like Mr. Snowden?"
"Most of them.  Some better, some worse.  They think they are not
doing their duty, earning their meal-tickets, unless they are
Roaring Jakes.  But Snowden is the worst ever.  He has the
meanest disposition of any man I ever knew.  This is his first
season on Number Three, and I shouldn't be surprised if it were
his last.  I hear Boss Sparling doesn't take to him.
Know anything about that?"
Phil shook his head.
"Why do you let him treat you as he does?"
"Let him?  Well, I'll tell you confidentially.  Most of us have
families to support.  Some of us have wives; others mothers and
sisters to look after.  It's put up with the roast or get out.
And let me tell you, the Boss isn't slow about closing out a
fellow he doesn't like.  He'll fire you at the drop of the hat."
"I'm hungry; where do we eat?" interrupted Teddy.
"Sure!  Don't you fellows in advance eat?"
"Well, we go through the motions.  That's about all I can say
for it.  This living at contract hotels isn't eating; it isn't
even feeding.  You folks back with the show don't have to put
up with contract hotels; you eat under the cook tent and you
get real food."
"What's a contract hotel?" asked Teddy.
Phil looked at his companion in disgust.
"Teddy Tucker, haven't you been in the show business long enough
to know what a contract hotel is?"
Teddy shook his head.
"I'll tell you, I'll explain what a contract hotel is,"
said Billy.  "The contracting agent goes over the route in
the spring and makes the arrangements for the show.  He engages
the livery rigs to take the men out on the country routes, and
when he gets through with the livery stable business he hunts up
all the almost food places in town until he finds one that will
feed the advance car men for five or ten cents a meal.  Then he
signs a contract and goes off to a real hotel for his own meal.
Oh, no, Mr. Contracting Agent doesn't get his meals there.
Well, we're booked to eat at one of those almost food places
in every town we make.  And some of them are not even 'almost.'
We are going to one of the kind now.  Want to come along?"
"Sure," replied Teddy.
"You won't be so anxious after you have had a week or so
All hands started for the hotel.
"What about your reports?  I thought Mr. Snowden told you to get
them in at once," asked Phil after they had left the car.
"Let him wait," growled Billy.
"But he will raise a row when you get back, will he not?"
"He'll roar anyway, so what's the odds?  We're used to that."
"A queer business, this advance car work," said
Phil thoughtfully.  "I never had any idea that it
was like this.  If ever I own or run a show it will
be different--I mean the advance cars will be run
on a different principle from this one."
"I hope you do, and that I am working for you," grinned Conley.
"Here we are."
Billy's description of a contract hotel Phil decided had not
been overdrawn.  All hands filed into the dining room, and Phil
had lost most of his appetite before reaching his chair.
A waiter who looked as if he might have been a prizefighter at
one time shambled up to them with a soiled napkin thrown over
one arm.  As it chanced, he approached Teddy first.
"Bean soup!  What'll you have," he demanded with a suddenness
that startled the Circus Boy.
Teddy surveyed the waiter with large eyes, then permitted
his gaze to wander about the table to the faces of the
grinning billposters.
"Bean soup.  What'll I have?" reflected the lad soberly.
"Now isn't it funny that I can't think what kind of soup
I want.  Bean soup; what'll I have?"
The waiter shifted his weight to the other foot, flopped the
napkin to the other arm and stuck out his chin belligerently.
"Bean soup!  What'll you have?" he demanded, with a rising
inflection in his voice.
"Let me think.  Why, I guess I'll take bean soup if it's all the
same to you," decided Tucker, solemn as an owl.
The billposters broke out into a roar of laughter.  They fairly
howled with delight at Teddy's droll manner, but the Circus Boy
did not even smile.  He looked at them with a hurt expression in
his eyes until the men were on the point of apologizing to him.
They did not know young Tucker.
The rest of the meal passed off without incident.
"Well, what did you think of the contract hotel?" questioned
Conley, as they were strolling back to the car.
"I think I shall starve to death in a week, if I have to eat
in that sort of a place," answered Teddy.  "Why didn't the
contracting agent sign us up with a livery stable?  I'd a
sight rather feed there than at a contract hotel if they are
all like this."
"Yes, the food is at least clean in a livery stable,"
laughed Phil.  "But we shall get along all right.  If we get
too hungry we can go out and buy our own meals now and then.
Do you ever do that, Mr. Conley?"
"I should say we do.  We have to, or we shouldn't have any
stomachs left.  Now, you want to know something about this car
work, don't you?"
"I should like to very much, if you can spare the time to tell me
"Wait till I get my report made out, then we'll have a nice long
talk, and I will tell you all about it."
"There is Mr. Snowden waiting for you."
"Never mind him.  His bite isn't half so bad as his bark."
The men piled into the car, whereupon Manager Snowden unloosed
the vials of his wrath because their reports were not in.  To his
tirade no one gave the slightest heed.  The men went methodically
to work, writing out their reports to which they signed their
names, folded the papers, and tossed them on the manager's desk
without a word of explanation.
For a few moments there was silence in the office while the
manager was going over the reports.  All at once there was
"Pig!  Come here!"
Rosie got down from the pile of paper on which he had been
sitting, taking his time about doing so, and, wearing a broad
grin, strolled to the office at the other end of the car.
"What's the trouble now?" demanded Rosie.
"Trouble?  Trouble?  That's the word.  It's trouble all the time.
Where are your brains?"
"In my head, I suppose," grinned Rosie.
"No!" thundered the manager.  "They're in your feet.  All you
know how to do is to kick.  You're a woodenhead; you're
Rosie accepted the tirade with a quiet smile.
"If you will tell me what it is all about I may be able
to explain."
"Look at those billboard tickets!"
"What's the matter with them?"
"Matter?  Matter?"
"Yes, that's what I asked."
"They're torn off crooked."
"Well, what of that?"
"What of that?  Why, you woodenhead, when those tickets are
presented at the door when the show comes around, the ticket
takers won't accept them.  Then there will be a howl that you can
hear all across the state of Minnesota.  How many times have I
told you to be careful?"
"The tickets are all right," growled Rosie, now a little nettled.
"What!  What!  You dare contradict me?  I'll fire you
Saturday night!  I'd fire you now only I am short of money.
Get out of here!  Come back!"
Rosie turned dutifully, but with a weary expression on his face.
"I fine you eleven dollars and fifty cents.  That's about what
the tickets will come to.  Now go.  Send Rain-in-the-Face here!"
The interview with Rain-in-the-Face sounded not unlike a series
of explosions to those out in the main compartment of the car.
Every face wore a grin, and each man expected it would be his
"Come on, let's go outside and talk," said Conley.
"I should think you _would_ want to get away from it all,"
answered Phil.  "I don't know; whether I can stand this
sort of thing or not."
"You'll get used to it after awhile."
"Something's going to happen," croaked the Missing Link,
dismally, as the two left the car by the rear door.
"I guess the freak is right," nodded Billy Conley.  "There is
going to be an explosion here that will shake the state."
There was, but not exactly in the way he imagined.
THE MIDNIGHT ALARM
"Now tell me, if you will, what the routine of the work on an
advance car is," said Phil after he and Billy had sat down beside
"It would take all night to do that, but I'll give you a few
pointers and the rest you will have to pick up for yourself.
In the first place an advertising car includes billposters,
lithographers, banner men and at least one programmer."
"Sounds all right, but it doesn't mean much of anything to me,"
laughed Phil.
"The billposters post the large bills on the billboards, and
anywhere else that they can get a chance, mostly out in the
country and in the country towns.  In places where there is a
regular billposter, he does that work for us.  Any boards not
owned by a billposter, or a barn or a pigpen or a henhouse on the
road is called a 'daub.' At least two tickets are given for every
place we put a piece of paper on.  These tickets are numbered
and signed.  Now, if a fellow out in Kankakee, we will say,
should chance to tear down the bill, when he presented his ticket
at the gate on the day of the show, it would be refused.
He'd pay or stay out."
"But how would they know he had taken down the poster,"
questioned Phil.
"Checkers follow along at intervals and check up every piece of
paper we put up.  We send the record of our work to the car back
of us and they in turn send our and their reports to the car
behind them."
"It is a wonderful system, indeed," marveled Phil.
"Yes.  To go back a little I will say that this is a 'scout car'
or what is known among showmen as 'the opposition car.' It goes
only where there is trouble, where there is opposition.
For instance, more than half a dozen shows are coming into
this territory, this season, and it is up to us to cover
every available space with our paper before their cars get
on the ground."
"But will they not paste their bills over yours, over those you
have already put up?"
"They seldom do.  It is an unwritten law in the show business
that this is not to be done."
Teddy had come up to them in time to hear the last remark.
"I thought there wasn't any law, written or unwritten, in this
business," he said.
"You will find there is, young man.  Then, to come to the
lithographers, as I think I already have told you, these men
place small bills in store and shop windows, giving tickets
for the privilege the same as do the billposters.  One man
goes ahead of them and does what we call 'the squaring,'
meaning that he enters the stores and asks the privilege of
putting up the lithographs.  In most cases the owners of the
places object, and he has to convince them that it is to
their advantage to have the paper in their windows."
"I didn't think there was so much to it, but I think I should
like that work.  I'll be a squarer," decided Teddy.
"The banner men put up what are called 'banners,' cloth signs.
These are tacked up in high places and the banner men have to be
good climbers.  They fill their mouths with tacks, points in,
heads out.  They use magnetic hammers."
"What's this, a joke?" interrupted Teddy.
"It is not a joke.  The head of each hammer so used is a magnet,
and is used to pick the tacks from the mouth of the banner man.
The tack sticks to the head of the hammer and is thus ready to
be driven.  An expert banner man will drive tacks almost as
rapidly as you could fire a self-acting revolver."
"That is odd.  What does the fellow called the programmer do?"
"He takes the small printed matter around, and drops it on
doorsteps and in stores.  When we are making a day run with the
car he drops the printed matter off at stations and crossroads,
or wherever he sees a man.  Following us come route-riders."
"What are they?"
"Men who ride over the country routes to see whether the
billposters have put up the paper indicated on their reports, or
thrown the stuff in a ditch somewhere.  After them come checkers,
one after the other.  This is Car Three, as you know.  Car Two
follows about two weeks behind us, and Car One comes along a week
ahead of the show.  What are you going to do?"
"Mr. Snowden said I was to go out with one of the men on a
country route."
"Then you come along with me, unless he directs you differently.
I can give you pointers that would take you a long time to learn
were you left to pick them up yourself.  Don't say anything to
him about it unless he speaks to you, but prepare to go out with
me early in the morning.  I have a big drive tomorrow, some fifty
miles, and you will get all you want for one day's work."
"Yes; that will be fine."
"What is your friend here to do?"
"I am the paste-maker," answered Teddy with a sheepish grin.
"I make the stickum stuff for this outfit."
"A nice job," jeered the assistant manager.  "You will get all
you want of that work in about thirty minutes.  The Boss must
certainly have a grudge against you.  You will be hanging around
the car all day, however, and if the Boss is away any you will
have a chance to get forty winks of sleep in the stateroom now
"No; Teddy is not here to sleep.  He is here to work."
"Yes; everybody works around here but Father."
"Is the work the same on the advance cars of all shows?"
"All circuses, yes.  We do things just the same as the fellows
did them forty years ago.  Nobody seems to have head enough to
do things differently, and goodness knows some modern methods
are necessary."
"How long have you been on this car?"
"Four years; this is my fifth season here."
"Why, that is exactly the time we have been with the
Sparling Shows."
Billy nodded.
"I saw you work last season.  You are a bird on the trapeze,
and ride--whew, but you can beat anything I ever saw on bareback!
I knew I had seen you before when you came in this evening, but I
couldn't place you.  I remembered after a little.  Say, Phil, I'm
glad you handed it out to the Boss this afternoon."
"And I am very sorry.  I don't know what Mr. Sparling will think
of it.  Still, I had to do something.  I saw right away that he
had made up his mind to treat us badly.  What time do we pull
out tonight?"
"Twelve o'clock, I think.  And speaking of that, it is time
to turn in."
The three entered the car.  Mr. Snowden already had turned
in, his end of the car being dark and silent.  Most of the
billposters also had climbed to their berths near the roof
of the car, and some of them were snoring heavily.
"Do they do this all night long?" questioned Teddy.
"Roll logs!"
"Well, yes," laughed Billy; "they are pretty good snorers,
all of them.  Do you snore?"
"I might, on a pinch.  I don't know whether I do or not.  I am
usually asleep when I snore.  How about it, Phil, do I snore?"
"Not when I am within punching distance of you."
The boys undressed, got into their pajamas, and after
considerable effort managed to climb to the top of the pile
of paper, where their blankets had been spread for them by
"Not much of a bed, is it Teddy?" laughed Phil.
"The worst ever!" agreed Teddy.  "How I'm going to stick in that
bed when the car gets under motion I don't know.  I wish I was
back with the show."
"Never mind, old chap.  We have had things pretty easy for the
last four years.  A little hardship will not hurt either of us.
And I know we are going to like this life, after we get more used
to it.  What time do we get up; do you know?"
"No, I don't know anything about it.  I guess in time for late
breakfast," answered Teddy grimly.  "Good night."
In a few minutes the Circus Boys were sound asleep.  They did not
even awaken when, about midnight, a switch engine hooked to their
car, and after racing them up and down the railroad yards a few
times, coupled them to the rear of the passenger train that was
to pull them to their next stand, some seventy-five miles away.
A few minutes later and they were rolling away.  The road was a
crooked one and the car swayed dizzily, but they were too used to
the sensation to be in the least disturbed by it.
An hour or two had passed when, all at once, every man in the car
was suddenly startled by a blood-curdling yell and a wild
commotion somewhere in the darkness of the car.
"What is it?"
"Are we wrecked?"
"What did we hit?"
This and other exclamations were shouted in loud tones, as the
men came tumbling from their berths, some sprawling over the
floor, where a lurch of the car had hurled them.
ALMOST A TRAGEDY
"Strike a light!"
"Are we off the rails?"
"No, you idiot.  Don't you feel the car going just the same
as before?  And he's wheeling her a mile a minute at that.
Hurry with that light, somebody!" commanded Billy.
At this moment they heard the sliding door of the manager's
stateroom come open with a crash.
"Now, here's trouble for certain!" muttered the Missing Link.
"The Boss is on deck."
"I guess my friend Teddy has got into trouble," said Phil
Forrest, slipping quickly from his bed on top of a pile of gaudy
circus posters.  "Ted!  Ted, where are you?"
There was no answer.
"What is all this row about?" thundered the manager, stalking
down the car, clad only in his pajamas.
"We do not know, sir.  We are trying to find out.  I am afraid my
friend has fallen out of bed and hurt himself," answered Phil.
"I hope it killed him!" bellowed Mr. Snowden.  "The idea of
waking up the whole car at this time of the night!  This nonsense
has got to stop, and right quick at that.  Where's that light?"
Phil was groping about the floor, trying hurriedly to
locate Teddy.  But no Teddy was to be found.
Finally a match flickered; after lurching about the car the man
with the match finally succeeded in locating the bracket lamp
near the end of the car.
Anxious eyes peered about them in the dim light.
"Look!" howled Rosie the Pig.
A pair of wildly kicking legs were seen protruding from one of
the big paste cans, these cans being made like the big garbage
cans that one sees in backyards in the city.
"It's Teddy!  There he is!" cried Phil, springing forward.
"He's gone in the paste can head first!" yelled another of
"Help me get him out; he has stuck fast!" shouted Phil, tugging
desperately at his companion's heels.
The car set up a roar of laughter at the ludicrous sight.
To Phil, however, it was no laughing matter.  The paste can
was nearly full of paste and of about the same consistency
as dough in a bread pan.  It was thick and wickedly blue,
for it had been mixed with bluestone to preserve it until
required by the billposters.
"Pull him out, you idiots!" bellowed the car manager.  "If he
isn't dead now, he can't be killed.  Pull him out and throw
him overboard!"
Phil flashed an indignant look at Mr. Snowden.
By this time others had come to his assistance.  It required
their united efforts to rescue Teddy from his
perilous predicament.
They hauled him out and laid him on the door.
"Teddy, Teddy!" cried Phil, but Tucker made no reply.  In the
first place his mouth was so full of paste that he could not
utter a sound.  Again, he was half unconscious, nearly smothered
and still unable to breathe freely.
Phil grabbed off the jacket of his own pajamas and began wiping
the blue paste from the unfortunate lad's mouth, eyes and nose.
A happy thought appeared to strike the car manager.  He dashed to
the sink, and, quickly filling a pail of water, ran back to the
spot where Teddy was lying.
Snowden turned the pail bottom side up, apparently intending to
douse the water into Tucker's face.
Instead, the contents of the pail landed on Phil Forrest's head,
spreading itself over his bare back, and trickled down in
rivulets over Teddy's face.
The water was almost ice cold.
"Wow!" howled Phil, springing to his feet.  "Who did that?"
"I did, and I'll do it again," jeered the car manager.
"Get me another pail, but I'll do the spilling this time.
Don't you dare duck me again, or I'll settle with you after
I get through with my friend."
One of the crew grabbed up the pail to run for water.  This time
the pail was handed to Phil who instantly began mopping the face
of young Tucker.
In a moment or so Teddy began to gasp.  His dive had nearly been
the end of him.
"Get a net," he murmured as he slowly came to, whereat everyone
save the car manager laughed loudly.  "Wha--what happened?
Did we run off the track?"
"No, you took a high dive into a can of paste," jeered Billy.
"You're the champion high diver of Car Three."
Mr. Snowden, stooping over, grabbed the luckless Teddy by the
collar and jerked him to his feet.
"Get up, you lummox!" he commanded.
Teddy blinked very fast.  Mr. Snowden began to shake him.
Phil stepped forward quickly and pushed the car manager away.
"Wha--what!" growled Snowden, an angry light leaping into
"You let the boy alone," commanded Phil.  "Because he has had an
accident is no reason why you should punish him!"
"You--you--you--"
Phil paid no heed to him, but led the unsteady Teddy to the far
end of the compartment.
"You get off this car, both of you!" yelled the manager.
"What, with the train running sixty miles an hour?" questioned
Phil, turning slowly.
"Yes; I don't care if it kills you both.  Good riddance--good job
"I think you have another guess coming, Mr. Car Manager," replied
Phil calmly.
Snowden glared at the Circus Boy who had thus defied him; then
turning sharply on his bare heel he strode back to his stateroom.
A broad grin appeared on the faces of the car crew.
"I guess that will be about all for this evening,"
announced Rain-in-the-Face.
"Is there a rope on this car?" asked Phil.
"Yes; what do you want a rope for?" replied Billy.
"He's going to complete the job by hanging the Boss from a brake
beam," spoke up Rosie.
"Not quite as bad as that, I guess," laughed Phil.  "I am going
to tie my friend Teddy in his bed.  There is no telling what may
happen to him, if I do not.  Teddy, had we happened to be sound
sleepers you would in all probability be dead by this time."
Tucker shivered.
"That would please Mr. Snowden too much, you know."
"Then tie me in.  I don't want to please him.  Did he duck me
while I was asleep?"
"He tried to.  As it chanced my bare back got most of the
ducking," answered Phil with a short laugh, for he believed the
car manager had purposely poured the water on him.
"But he shook me," protested Teddy.
"He did that," chorused the crew.  "What are you going to do
"Well," reflected Tucker; "I think he and I will fight a duel
tomorrow at sunrise."
Once more all hands turned in, Phil humorously making a pretense
of tying his companion to his "berth." As a matter of fact, Phil
did tie the rope about Teddy's wrist, wrapping the free end about
his own arm, and thus the boys went to sleep once more.
It seemed as if they had been asleep only a few minutes when they
were suddenly startled into wakefulness by a loud noise.
This time, however, it was not a yell, but a roar.
Phil sat up suddenly, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Get up, you lazy good-for-nothings!" bellowed the car manager,
dancing up and down the aisle, still in his pajamas, his hair
standing up, his eyes wild and menacing.
"Is that all?" muttered Teddy, sinking back into a sound
sleep again.
Phil sprang from the pile of papers on which he had been
sleeping, landing lightly on the floor in his bare feet.
"Good morning, Mr. Snowden.  I hope you had a good night's
sleep," greeted the Circus Boy.
Snowden glared at the lad, as if trying to make up his mind
whether or not Phil was making sport of him.  But there was
only pleasantness in the face of Phil Forrest.
"Huh!" grunted the manager.  Then he once more began racing up
and down the car, roaring at his men, threatening and expressing
his opinion of them in the way with which Phil already had
become familiar.
Teddy lay curled up, with one foot protruding from beneath
the covers.  Whether or not he had done this purposely, it
was difficult to decide.  Be that as it may, Mr. Snowden
caught sight of the pink foot.  He rose to the bait like a
bass to a fly.
In another second he had pounced upon the foot.  Grabbing it
with both hands he gave it a violent tug.  Tucker responded.
He came slipping from the "berth," throwing the quilts before
him as he did so.  The quilts landed over the car manager's head.
Then came Teddy Tucker.
Ted landed, full on Mr. Snowden's head, with a wild yell.
Down went the manager and the Circus Boy, with the latter on top,
in a writhing, howling, confused heap.
THE FIRST DAY'S EXPERIENCE
"Give it to him, Teddy!" howled the crew.
Tucker, as soon as he could right himself, sat down on the
manager's head, at the same time holding Mr. Snowden's hands
pinioned to the floor.
The muffled voice under the quilts waxed louder and more angry as
the seconds passed.  Phil, who had gone to the wash room to make
his toilet, hurried back at sound of the row.
"Teddy Tucker, what are you doing?" demanded Phil, for the moment
puzzled at the scene before him.
"I'm sitting on the Boss," answered Teddy triumphantly.  "Shall I
give him one for you?"
"Yes--give him two for each of us," shouted the billposters.
Phil strode to his companion, grabbed the lad by the collar
of his pajamas and jerked him from the helpless man under
"Now, you behave yourself, young man, or you will have to reckon
with me," he commanded, pushing Teddy aside.
"You let me alone.  This is my inning.  I guess I can sit on the
Boss, if I want to, without your interfering with the fun."
Giving no heed to the words, Phil quickly hauled the quilts off
and assisted Mr. Snowden to rise.
"I guess Teddy must have fallen on you, sir," suggested
Phil solemnly.
"He did it on purpose!  He did it on purpose!"
"You pulled him out of bed, did you not, sir?"
"Yes; and next time I'll pull him so he'll know it.  Get out of
here, every man of you, and get your breakfasts; then get off on
your routes.  Things are coming to a fine pass on this car.
Young man, I will talk to you later."
The manager, with red face and angry eye, strode to his
stateroom, while the grinning billposters made haste to get into
their clothes.  A few minutes later, and all hands were on their
way to breakfast.
This meal at the new hotel was a slight improvement over the
dinner they had eaten the night before.  Besides, all hands were
in good humor, for they had had more real excitement on Car
Three, since the advent of the Circus Boys, than at any time
during the season.
By the time they reached the car again six livery teams were in
waiting for the men who were to go out on the country routes.
All was instantly bustle and excitement.  Paste cans were loaded
into the wagons, brushes and pails, together with the paper that
had been carefully laid out and counted, the night before, for
each billposter.  A record of this was kept on the car.
Phil lent a hand at loading the stuff, and they found that
the slim lad was stronger than any of them.  It was an easy
matter for him to lift one of the big cans of paste to a
wagon without assistance.  Teddy, however, stood by with
hands thrust in pockets, an amused grin on his face.
The baleful eye of the car manager was upon him.
"Have you heard from Mr. Sparling this morning?" asked Phil.
"Yes," answered Mr. Snowden shortly.
"What did he say?"
"That is none of your business, young man."
"You are right.  I accept the rebuke.  While I am interested, it
really is none of my business," answered the lad with a smile.
"Where are you going?"
"You told me to go out on one of the country routes."
"Oh!  What route are you going on, if I may ask?"
"I had thought of going with Mr. Conley."
"You will do nothing of the sort.  You will go where I tell
you to.  I--"
"I suggested that he go with me, Mr. Snowden," interposed Billy.
"I have a hard route to work today and I shall need some help if
I get over it before dark."
"Very well; go on.  I hope he falls off a barn or something.
If he does, leave him."
"For your sake, I shall try to take care of myself," answered
Phil with an encouraging smile.
"Start a fire under that boiler.  Henry, you show him how to
manage the boiler and mix the paste.  I don't imagine he even
knows dough when he sees it."
"I know a dough-head when I see one," spoke up Teddy promptly,
after delivering himself of which sentiment he strolled away with
hands in his pockets, whistling merrily.
The drive to the country in the fresh morning air was a most
delightful one to Phil.
After leaving the town they soon came in sight of a
deserted house.  It evidently had been abandoned, for
it was in a bad state of dilapidation.
"There's a dandy daub!" exclaimed Billy.  "We'll plaster it with
paper until the neighbors won't know it.  When we get there, hop
off and bring some pails of water, will you?"
"Sure," answered Phil.  While he was doing this, the billposter
was spreading his paper out on the ground, deciding on the layout
that he would post.
A few minutes later and the gaudy bills were going up like magic
on the road side of the house and the two ends, so that the
pictures might be seen from every point of view from the highway.
The house had been transformed into a blaze of color.
"All right," sang out Billy.  "Good job, too."
Phil had learned something.  He had noted every movement of
the billposter.
"How long does it take to learn to post, Billy?" he asked.
"Some fellows never learn.  Others get fairly expert after a few
weeks puttering around."
"May I try one today?"
"Sure thing.  If the next one is easy I will give you a chance
The next daub proved to be a small hay barn a little way back in
"There's your chance, my boy," he said.
Phil jumped out before the wagon had come to a stop and, with
paper and brush under his arms, ran across the field.  With more
skill than might have been expected with his limited experience
he smeared the paper with paste, then sought to raise it up to
the side of the building as he had seen Billy Conley do.
This was where Phil came to grief.  A gust of wind doubled the
paper up, the pasted side smearing the bright colors of the face
of the picture, until the colors were one hopeless daub.  To cap
the climax the whole thing came down over Phil's head, wrapping
him in its slimy folds.
"Hey, help!" he shouted.  "I'm posting myself instead of
Billy sat down on the ground, laughing until the tears ran down
"If it hadn't been for that unexpected gust of wind I should have
made it nicely," explained Phil with a sickly grin.  "Oh, pshaw,
I'm not as much of a billposters as I thought I was.  I guess
there is more to this game than I had any idea of."
"You will learn.  You took a pretty big contract when you tried
to put up that eight-sheet."
"We will let you try a one-sheet on the farther end of the barn.
A one-sheet is a small, twenty-eight inch piece of paper,
Phil nodded.
"I'll try it," he said.  "I guess a one-sheet is about as big a
piece of paper as I am fit to handle just yet."
He managed the one-sheet without the least trouble, and did a
very good job, so much so that Billy complimented him highly.
"You will make a billposter yet.  One good thing about you is
that you are willing to learn, and you are quick to admit that
you do not know it all.  Most fellows, when they start, have
ideas of their own--at least they think they have."
After that Phil did the small work, thinned the paste and made
himself generally useful.
"Oh, look at that!" he cried, pointing off ahead of them.
"What is it, Phil?"
"See that building standing up on that high piece of ground.
Wouldn't that be a dandy place on which to post some paper?"
The building he had indicated was a tall circular structure,
painted a dark red, with a small cupola effect crowning its top.
"That is a silo.  You wouldn't be able to get permission to post
a bill on there, even if you could get up there to do it,"
said Conley.
"Why not?  Why that farmer, I'll wager, sets as much store by
that building as he does his newly-painted house."
"I'll go ask him.  You don't mind if I 'square' him, do you?"
questioned the lad with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Ask him, for sure.  But we couldn't post up there.  We have
no ladders that would reach; in fact we have no ladders
at all.  I mean the farmer has no ladders long enough."
"Never mind; I'll figure out a way," replied the Circus Boy,
whose active mind already had decided upon a method by which
he thought he might accomplish the feat, providing the farmer
was willing.
Reaching the farm, Phil jumped out and ran up to the house.
"Do you own this place, sir?" he asked of the farmer who answered
his ring at the bell.
"It's a beautiful place.  I am representing the Sparling Circus,
and we thought we would like to make a display on your silo."
The farmer gazed at him in amazement.
"Young man, you have a cast-iron nerve even to ask such a thing."
"I know the mere matter of tickets to the show will be no
inducement to a man of your position.  But I am going to make you
a present of a box for six people at the circus.  You will take
your whole family and be my guest.  I will not only give you an
order for it, but will write a personal letter to the owner, who
is my very good friend.  He will show you all there is to be
seen, and I will see to it that you take dinner with him in the
circus tent.  No; there is no obligation.  All the farmers--all
your neighbors will be envious.  I want you to come.  We won't
speak of the silo.  I don't expect you to let me post that; but,
if you will permit me to put a three-sheet on your hog pen back
there, I shall be greatly obliged."
Despite the farmer's protestations, Phil wrote out the order for
the box, then scribbled a few lines to Mr. Sparling, which he
enclosed in an envelope borrowed from the farmer.
"Thank you so much," beamed the Circus Boy, handing over the
letter to the farmer, accompanied by the pass and order for
the arena box at the circus.  "It is a pleasure to meet a man
like you.  I come from a country town myself, and have worked
some on my uncle's farm."
"You with the circus, eh?"
"Looks to me like you was a pretty young fellow to be a
circus man."
"Oh no, not very.  I belong back with the show.  I am a
performer, you know.  I am out with the advertising car to learn
the business."
"A performer?" wondered the farmer, looking over the trim figure
and bright boyish face.  "What do you perform?"
"I perform on the flying trapeze and do a bareback riding act."
"Is that so?"
"Do you know, young fellow, I never got such a close squint at a
circus fellow before in my life.  But, come to size you up, I
reckon you can do all them things you've been telling me about.
Yes, sir, I'll go to the circus.  Will you be there to cut up in
"I cannot say.  It is doubtful, as I probably shall be ahead of
the show for the rest of the season.  Well, thank you very much.
We will decorate the hog pen," added the lad, touching his cap
and turning away.
An arena box, value twelve dollars, was a pretty high price to
pay for a three-sheet on a hog pen, but Phil Forrest knew what he
was doing.  At least he thought he did, and he did not walk very
fast on his way to the road.
"Hey, come back here," called the farmer.
"Yes, sir," answered Phil turning inquiringly.
"Come here."
He walked back to where the farmer was standing fingering the
pass and the letter.
"I--I reckon you needn't stick them bills on the hog pen."
The Circus Boy's heart took a sudden drop.
"Very well, sir; just as you say.  I do not wish to do anything
to displease you."
"But I reckon you can plaster that silo full of them circus
pictures from top to bottom, if you want to," was the
unexpected announcement.
Phil Forrest's heart bounded back into position again.
CHAPTER VIII
THE CIRCUS BOY WINS
"Oh, thank you, thank you ever so much!" answered the lad, his
eyes glowing.
"You're a square kid and I like you."
"I appreciate your kindness, I assure you, and I will write a
letter to the owner of the show about you this evening when I get
back to the car.  Have you any ladders that we can borrow, and a
"I reckon you'll find all them things in the hay barn.
Help yourself.  I've got to run up to the back farm, but
maybe I'll be back before you get through your job.
Phil hurried back to the road, where Billy and the wagon
were waiting.  The lad's feet felt lighter than usual.
"Well, what luck?" demanded Billy.
"I may be a poor apology as a billposter, but as a diplomat I'm a
winner, Billy."
"You--you don't mean you got the silo?" gasped Conley.
"I got the silo, and I can have the hog pen too, if I want it,
and perhaps the farmer's house thrown in for good measure,"
answered Phil, his face flushed from his first triumph as a
publicity showman.
"Well, of all the nerve!"
"That's what the farmer said," laughed Phil.  "But he changed
"What do you think of that?" demanded Billy, turning to
"The kid is all right."
"You're right; he is.  The next question, now that you have got
the silo, is what are you going to do with it?"
"Post it," answered Phil promptly.
"You can never do it."
"I'll show you what a circus man can do."
"Come along and unload your truck.  Help me get some ladders out
of the barn."
Wonderingly, Billy did as he was bid, and the driver, now grown
interested, hitched his horses to the fence and followed them.
The silo was empty.  Phil measured the distance to the top with
"About forty feet I should say," he decided.  "We shall have to
do some climbing."
The ladders were far too short, but by splicing two of them
together, they reached up to an opening in the silo some ten feet
from the top.
Phil hunted about until he found a long plank; then setting the
spliced ladders up inside the silo he mounted to the opening,
carrying one end of a coil of rope with him.  Upon reaching the
opening he directed Billy to tie the other end of the rope to
the plank.  This being done, Phil hauled the board up to where
he was sitting perched on the frame of the opening.
"I'd like to know what you're going to do?"
"If you will come up here I will show you."
"Not on your life," replied Billy promptly.  "I know when I'm
well off, and if you don't look out, Boss Snowden will get
"What wish was that?"
"That you might fall off a barn and break your neck."
The Circus Boy's merry laugh floated down to them as he worked in
an effort to get the plank into position.  By tying the rope to
one end of the plank to support it he gradually worked the plank
out through the opening, after a time managing to shove the end
nearest to him under a beam.
"There, I'd like to see you turn a trick like that, Billy
Conley," he shouted.
"_I_ wouldn't," retorted Billy.  "What's the next move?"
"In a minute.  Watch me!"
The lad made a large loop in the rope in the shape of a
slip knot.  All preparations being made he boldly walked out
on the plank which, secured at one end like a springboard,
bent and trembled beneath his weight.
The men down below gasped.
The farmer, having changed his mind, had come out to watch the
operation rather than visit the back farm.  Two neighbors had by
this time joined him.
"Who's the fellow up there?" asked one.
"He is a performer in a circus."
"A performer?  Shucks!  He's no more performer than I am."
"Watch him and perhaps you may change your mind," answered Billy,
who had overheard the remark.  "That boy is one of the finest
circus performers in this country.  Do you think he could stand
out on that plank, more than thirty feet above the ground, if he
were not a performer?  Why, I wouldn't be up there for a million
dollars, and you wouldn't, either."
"That's right," answered the farmer himself.  "That beats all the
circus performances I ever saw.  What is the kid going to do?"
"I don't know," confessed Billy.  "He knows and that's enough."
Phil, having tested the plank to his satisfaction and studied
his balance, now cast his eyes up to the little cupola on top
of the silo.  Then he began slowly swinging the loop of the
rope over his head, after the fashion of a cowboy about to make
They were at a loss to understand what he was trying to do, but
every man there was sure in his own mind what Phil Forrest would
do--fall off.
Suddenly he let go of the loop.  It soared upward.  Then they
began to understand.  He was trying to rope the cupola.
The rope fell short by about three feet, as nearly as he was able
"Oh, pshaw!" muttered Phil.  "That was a clumsy throw.  I would
make just about as good a cowboy as I am a billposters.
Well, here goes for another try."
He put all his strength into the throw this time.
The rope sped true, dropping as neatly over the peak of the
cupola as if the thrower had been standing directly over
the projection.
A cheer rose from the men below.
It died on their lips.
"He's falling!" they cried with one voice.
The farmers stood gaping.  But Billy, with the quick instincts of
a showman, darted beneath the plank hoping to catch and break the
Phil had leaned too far backward in making his cast.  He had lost
his balance and toppled over.  Here his training in aerial work
served him in good stead.  As he felt himself going he turned
quickly facing toward the outer end of the plank.
Like a flash both hands shot out.  They closed about the end of
the plank by a desperately narrow margin.
The plank bent until it seemed as if it must snap under
his weight.  Then it shot upward, carrying the boy with
it, he kicking his feet together as he was lifted and
laughing out of pure bravado.
Phil knew he was safe now.  The drop had tested the plank, so
that there was now slight danger of its breaking.
On the second rebound he swung himself to the upper side of it
and stood up.
"Hurrah!" he shouted.
Billy was pale and trembling.
"If you do that again I'll have an attack of heart disease,
Phil!" he called.  "Now, what are you going to do?  The rope is
hanging seven or eight feet away from you."
"Hello, that's so.  I hadn't observed that before.  I should
not have let go of it.  Never mind, I'll get it unless
something breaks.  See here, Billy, you get from under there."
"Is the plank likely to fall?" asked Billy innocently.
"The plank?  No.  I am likely to take a tumble," answered
Phil, with a short laugh.  All at once he grew serious
and still.  "I think I can make it," he decided.
His resolution formed, the lad crouched low, so as not to throw
so great a leverage on the plank that it would slip from under
him when he leaped.  He prepared for the spring.
"Don't do it!" howled Billy, now thoroughly frightened.
"Don't you see what he's up to?  He's going to jump off
the plank and try to catch hold of the rope hanging from
the cupola.  He'll never make it.  He'll miss it sure as
he's a foot high.  This is awful!"
"Don't bother me, Billy.  Mr. Farmer, is that cupola strong
enough to bear my weight on a sudden jolt?"
"It ought to hold a ton, dead weight."
"Then I guess it will hold me.  Don't talk to me down there.
It seemed a foolhardy thing to do.  To the average person it
would have meant almost sure death.  It must be remembered,
however, that Phil Forrest was a circus performer, that he felt
as thoroughly at home far above the ground as he did when
standing directly on it.
He leaped out into the air, cleared the intervening space between
the plank and the rope, his fingers closing over the latter with
a sureness born of long experience.
His body swung far over toward the other side of the silo,
settling down with a sickening jolt, as the loop over the cupola
slipped down tight.
"Hooray!" cried Phil, twisting the rope about one leg and waving
a hand to those below him.
They drew a long, relieved sigh.  The farmers, one after the
other, took off their hats and mopped their foreheads.
"Warm, isn't it?" grinned the owner of the silo.
"Now, pass up your brush and paste on this rope."  Phil had
brought a small rope with him for this very purpose.
Billy got busy at once and in a few minutes Phil had the brush
and paste in his hands, with which he proceeded to smear as much
of the side of the silo as was within reach.  It will be
remembered that he was hanging on the rope by one leg, around
which the rope was twisted as only showmen know how to do.
"Now, the paper," called Phil.
This was passed up to him in the same way.  In a few moments he
had pasted on a great sheet, having first pulled himself up to
the eaves to secure the top of the sheet just under them.
"Now that you have one sheet on, how are you going to get around
to the other side to put others on?" demanded Conley.
"Oh, I'll show you.  Be patient down there.  I have got to change
a leg; this one is getting numb."
"I should think it would," muttered Billy.
Phil changed legs, as he termed it; then, grasping the eaves with
both hands, he pulled himself along, the slip-noose over the
cupola turning about on its pivot without a hitch.
This done Phil called for more paper, which was put up in
short order.  Thus he continued with his work until he had put
a plaster, as Bill Conley characterized it, all the way around
the farmer's silo.  It might have been seen nearly ten miles
away in all directions.  No such billing had ever before been
done in that part of the country, nor perhaps anywhere else.
"There!  I'd like to see the Ringlings, or Hagenbecks or
Barnum and Bailey or any of the other big ones, beat that.
They're welcome to cover this paper if they can, eh, Billy?"
laughed Phil, pushing himself away from the side of the silo
and leaning far back to get a better view of it.  "I call
that pretty fine.  How about it?"
"The greatest ever," agreed Billy.  His vocabulary was too
limited to express his thoughts fully, but he did fairly well
with what he had.
Having satisfied himself that his work was well done, Phil let
himself down slowly, not using his hands at all, in doing so,
but taking a spiral course downward.
"H-u-m-m, I'm a little stiff," he said when his feet touched
the ground.  "Am I a billposter or am I not a billposter, Billy?"
"You are the champeen of 'em all!  I take off my hat to you."
Which Conley did, then and there.
"I am afraid I shall not be able to get that rope down, sir,"
said Phil politely to the farmer.  "I am sorry.  I had not
figured on that before.  If you will be good enough to tell me
how much the rope is worth I shall be glad to pay you for it.
I can cut it off up near the little door there, so it will not
look quite so bad.  Shall I do it?"
"No.  You needn't bother.  As for paying for the rope I won't
take a cent.  I've had more fun than the price of a dozen
ropes could buy.  Why, young man, do you know I never seen
anything in a circus that could touch the outside edge of the
performance you've been giving us this afternoon?  You boys
had your dinners?"
"No," confessed the Circus Boy.  "I guess we had forgotten
all about eating."
"Then come right in the house.  My wife will get you
something, and I want to introduce her to a real live
circus man--that's you."
"Thank you."
Phil's eyes were bright.  He was happy in the accomplishment of a
piece of work that was not done every day.  In fact, this one was
destined to go down in show history as a remarkable achievement.
They sat down to a fine dinner, and Phil entertained the family
for an hour relating his experiences in the show world.
When the hour came for leaving, the farmer urged them to remain,
but the men had work to do and a long drive ahead of them.
They drove away, Phil waving his hat and the farmer and his wife
waving hat and apron respectively.
As the rig reached a hill, some three miles away, Phil and Billy
turned to survey their work.
"Looks like a fire, doesn't it, Billy?"
"It sure does.  It would call out the fire department if there
was one here."
"And the best of it is, that posting will be up there when the
show comes this way next season.  It is a standing advertisement
for the Great Sparling Shows.  But I suppose Mr. Snowden would
say it wasn't much of a job."
TEDDY GETS INTO TROUBLE
"Get those paste cans outside!  Step lively there!"
"Say, you talk to me as if I were one of the hired help,"
objected Teddy, his face flushing.
"Well, that is exactly what you are.  You'll soon learn that you
are hired help if you remain on this car.  I'll take all the
freshness out of you.  The flour is in the cellar."
"In the cellar?"
"That's what I said.  Go down and get it out.  You will require
about a sack and a half for each can.  That will be about right
for a can of paste.  Henry will show you how much bluestone to
put in.  But be careful of that boiler.  I don't want the car
The manager strode away to his office, while Teddy, red and
perspiring, went about his work.  He was much more meek than
usual, and this very fact, had the manager known him better,
would have impressed Mr. Snowden as a suspicious circumstance.
Instead of the usual pink tights with spangled trunks, Teddy
Tucker was now clad in a pair of blue jeans, held up by pieces of
string reaching up over his shoulders.  His was now a far
different figure from that presented by him in the ring of the
Sparling Shows.
After dumping the flour into the cans, in doing which Teddy took
his time, he attached a hose pipe to the boiler, under the
direction of Henry.  Next he filled the cans with water and was
then ready to turn on the steam to boil the paste.
Teddy was about to do this when Mr. Snowden appeared on
the scene.  He looked over the cans critically, but observing
nothing that he could find fault with, he got a stick and
began poking in the bottom of one of the cans, thinking he had
discovered that more flour had been used than was necessary.
All at once Teddy, who was now inside the car, turned a full head
of steam through the hose pipe.  There being one hundred and
forty pounds of steam on the boiler something happened.
The full force of the steam shot into the bottom of the can over
which Mr. Snowden was bending.  The contents of that can leaped
up into the air, water, flour, bluestone and all, and for the
next few seconds Manager Snowden was the central figure in the
little drama.  It rained uncooked paste for nearly half a minute.
Such of it as had not smitten him squarely in the face went up in
the air and then came down, showering on his head.
The force of the miniature explosion had bowled the manager over.
Choking, sputtering, blinded for the moment by the stuff that had
got into his eyes, he wallowed in the dust by the side of
Teddy shut off the steam, went out on the platform and sat down.
"What happened?" he demanded innocently.  Perhaps he did not know
and perhaps he did.
Mr. Snowden did not answer, for the very good reason that he
could not.  His clothes were ruined.
"It looks like a storm," muttered the lad.  In this he was
not mistaken.
A happy thought came to him.  Springing up he hurried into the
car, and, drawing a pail of water from the tap, ran out with it.
Mr. Snowden had just scrambled to his feet.
"This will do you good," said Teddy, dashing the pail of water
over the manager's head.  "That's the way you brought me back
when I got pasted up last night."
The Circus Boy ducked back to the platform and sat down to
await developments.  They were not long in arriving.  The instant
Snowden got the flour out of his eyes sufficiently to enable him
to see he began blinking in all directions.
Finally his eyes rested on Teddy Tucker, who was perched on a
brake wheel observing the manager's discomfiture.
"You!" exploded the manager.  Grabbing up the paddle used for the
purpose of stirring paste he started for the Circus Boy.
Teddy promptly slid from the brake wheel and quickly got to the
other side of the car.  Snowden was after him with an angry roar,
brandishing the paddle above his head.
"I knew it would blow up a storm pretty soon," muttered the lad,
making a lively sprint as the manager came rushing around the end
of the car.  The chase was on, but Teddy Tucker was much more
fleet of foot than was his pursuer, besides which his years of
training in the circus ring had put him in condition for a
Around and around the car they ran, the porter watching them,
big-eyed and apprehensive, but Teddy kept his pursuer at a
distance without great effort.
After a short time the lad varied his tactics.  Increasing his
speed, he leaped to the rear platform of the car, and sprang up
on the platform railing.  Here, grasping the edge, he pulled
himself to the roof, where he sat down with his feet dangling
over, grinning defiantly.
"Come down from there!" roared the manager.  "I'll teach you
to play your miserable pranks on me!"  The roof of the car was
beyond the ability of Mr. Snowden to reach.
"I'm sorry.  I didn't know you had your nose stuck in the paste
pot when I turned on the steam," murmured Teddy.
This served only to increase the anger of the man on the ground.
"You did it on purpose; you know you did!" roared Mr. Snowden.
"Come down, I tell you."
"You come up.  It's fine up here!"
The manager, now angered past all control, uttered a growl.
Hastily gathering up a handful of coal he began heaving the
pieces at Teddy.  But Tucker was prepared for just such
an emergency.
>From his pockets he drew several chunks of coal, that he had
picked up during his sprinting match around the car.  He let
these drive at Mr. Snowden, one after the other, not, however,
throwing with sufficient force to do much damage.  He did not
wish to harm his superior, but he did want to drive him off.
Mr. Snowden soon got enough of the bombardment, for he was
getting the worst of it all the time.
"I'll turn the hose on you!" he bellowed, making a dash for the
interior of the car, where it was his intention to turn on the
boiling hot water and steam.
"I guess it's time to leave," decided Teddy.  Quickly hopping
down he ran and hid behind a freight car a short distance from
the show car.  When Mr. Snowden came out, grasping the hissing
hose, his victim was nowhere to be seen.
Uttering angry imprecations and threats the manager returned
to his office, changed his clothes, then strode off up town
to a hotel to get a bath, of which he was very much in need
at the moment.
"I guess he will be cooled off by the time he gets back," decided
Teddy, emerging from his hiding place.  "I think I will go back
to work.  I must earn my money somehow.  That man is crazy, but I
have an idea he will be sane after I get through with him."
Teddy returned to his paste-making.  Henry, the porter, was
so frightened that he hardly dared talk to Teddy, for fear
the manager might catch him doing so and vent his wrath on
the Englishman.
As the Circus Boy had surmised Mr. Snowden returned after a two
hours' absence, much chastened in spirit.  He did not even look
at Teddy Tucker, though the latter was watching the manager out
of the corners of his eyes.  Mr. Snowden went directly to his
stateroom where he locked himself in.
"I guess the storm has blown over," decided young Tucker,
grinning to himself.  "But won't Phil raise an awful row when he
hears about it!"
The lad quickly learned the paste-making trick, and after dinner
he set to work in earnest.  He found it hard work stirring the
stiff paste, and it seemed as if Teddy got the greater part of it
over his clothes and face.  He was literally smeared with it,
great splashes of it disfiguring his face and matting his hair.
When the men from the country routes drove in there was a howl
of merriment.  The lad did present a ludicrous sight.
"Hello, Spotted Horse!" shouted one of them.
"Hello yourself," growled Teddy, in none too enviable a frame
"That's the name.  That's the name that fits our friend Tucker!"
cried Missing Link.  From that moment on, aboard Car Three, Teddy
Tucker lost his own name and became Spotted Horse.
The men had no sooner unloaded their paste cans than the porter
had told them of the trouble that morning between Teddy and
the manager.
The men howled in their delight.  Mr. Snowden, off in his little
office, heard the sounds of merriment and knew that the laughter
was at his expense.  His face was black and distorted with rage.
"I'll show them they can't trifle with and insult me,"
At that moment he roared for Billy.
"The regular evening seance is about to begin," announced Billy,
with a grimace, as he turned toward the office.
"Bring the cub, Forrest, along!" shouted the manager.
"Who?" called Conley.
"Forrest and that fool friend of his."
"He means Spotted Horse," suggested Rosie.  "Run along,
Spotted Horse.  Got your war paint on?"
"I always have my war paint on," grinned Teddy, as he started
toward the private office, following Conley and Phil Forrest.
The three ranged up before the car manager, who surveyed them
with glowering face.
"What have you done today?" he demanded, fixing his gaze
"We got up more than four hundred sheets of paper."
"Four hundred sheets!" groaned Snowden.  "What have you fellows
been doing?  Sleeping by the roadside?"
"No, sir, we have been working, and Mr. Forrest here pulled off
one of the cleverest hits that's ever been made.  He plastered
a silo that stands out like a sore thumb on the landscape, and
which every farmer within ten or twenty miles about will go to
"Humph, I don't believe it!  What have the other men done?"
Conley reported as to the number of sheets that the men had
posted, whereat the manager rose, pounded his desk and, in a
towering rage, expressed his opinion of the tribe of
billposters again.
Billy smiled sarcastically, in which he was joined by Teddy,
but Phil's face was solemn.  He was becoming rather tired of
this constant abuse.
"If you have nothing to say to me, I will go back to my place
in the car," spoke up Phil.
Snowden glared at him.
"Did I tell you to leave this room?"
"I believe you did not."
"Then stand there until I tell you to go!"
"Very well, sir."
"Conley, I have called you in here to be a witness to what I am
about to say.  Do you hear?"
Billy nodded.
"During the past two days I have been insulted and abused by
those two young cubs there, until it has come to a point where
I appear to be no longer manager of this car.  Your men outside
have laughed at my discomfiture--yes, sir, actually made sport
"I think you are mistaken.  I--"
"I am _not_.  I am never mistaken.  This morning, this fellow
Tucker not only defied me, but turned on the steam when I was
examining a paste pot, and soaked me from head to foot.  Then he
ended up by throwing coal at me."
"Yes, and you started the row," retorted Teddy.  "The idea of a
big man like you pitching on to a boy.  You ought to be ashamed
of yourself."
"Stop it!  I'll forget you are a boy if you goad me further.
But I have had enough of it.  I'll stand it no longer.
Do you understand?"
No one replied to the question.
"This thing has gone far enough.  Have you anything to say for
yourself or your friend here, Forrest?"
"Yes, sir, I have."
"You are the most ill-tempered man it has ever been my experience
"You're discharged!  Both of you!  Get off my car instantly!
Do you hear me?"
"I could not very well help hearing you.  I am sorry to
disobey you, but we were ordered to Number Three by Mr. Sparling.
We will try to do our duty, but we shall not leave this car
until Mr. Sparling orders us to do so," answered Phil steadily.
A SURPRISE, INDEED
Phil had triumphed, but he felt little satisfaction in having
The manager had ordered the two boys from his office after the
interview and the command to leave the car at once.  But the
lads had stayed on, and had gone about their duties, Phil
working with all the force that was in him.  He had even
stirred Teddy to a realization of his duty and the latter
had done very well, indeed.
A week had passed and the car was now in South Dakota.
>From there they were to make a detour and drop down into
Kansas, whence their course would be laid across the
plains and on into the more mountainous country.
Mr. Snowden had studiously avoided the boys; in fact he had not
spoken a word to them since the interview in the stateroom, but
he had bombarded Mr. James Sparling with messages and demands
that the Circus Boys be withdrawn from the car, renewing his
threats to leave in case his demand was not complied with.
One bright Sunday morning the car rolled into the station at
Aberdeen, South Dakota, and as it came to a stop a messenger boy
boarded it with a message for Billy Conley.
Billy looked surprised, and even more so after he had perused the
message itself.  He quickly left the car, saying he would return
after breakfast, but instead of going directly to breakfast, he
proceeded to the best hotel in the place, where he called for a
certain man, at the desk.
Billy spent some two hours with the man whom he had gone to see,
after which he returned to the car.  There was a twinkle in his
eyes, as he looked at the Circus Boys, who were at that moment
getting ready to go to church, a duty that Phil never neglected.
He still remembered the time when he used to go to church on
Sunday mornings, holding to his mother's hand.  Never a Sunday
passed that he did not think of it.
"Will you go with us, Billy?" he asked, noting the gaze of the
assistant manager fixed upon him.
"Not this morning.  I expect company," answered Billy with
Teddy eyed him suspiciously.
"Billy is up to some tricks this morning.  I can see it in his
eyes," announced Tucker shrewdly.  "I guess I will stay and see
what's going on."
"No; you will come with me," replied Phil decisively.
So Teddy went.
Shortly after their departure a gentleman boarded the car, at the
stateroom end, and walked boldly into the office.
The man was James Sparling, owner of the Sparling Combined Shows.
Mr. Snowden sprang up, surprise written all over his face.
"Why, Mr. Sparling!" he greeted the caller.  "I did not
expect you."
"No; my visit is something of a surprise, but it is time I
came on.  Where are the boys?"
"You mean young Forrest and Tucker?" asked the manager, his
smile fading.
"The young cubs have gone to church.  A likely pair they are!
What did you mean by turning loose a bunch like that on me?"
There was a slight tightening of Mr. Sparling's lips.
"What seems to be the trouble with them?"
"Insubordination.  They are the worst boys I ever came across in
all my experience."
"Have you done as I requested, and helped them to learn
the business?"
"I have not!"
"May I inquire why not?"
"My telegrams should be sufficient answer to that question.
Both of them are hopeless.  I want nothing to do with either
of them.  They have thoroughly disorganized this car, and
each of them has assaulted me.  Had I followed the promptings
of my own inclinations I should have smashed their heads
before this.  But I considered their youth."
Mr. Sparling leaned back and laughed.
"I am glad you did not try it."
"Why?" demanded the manager suddenly.
"Because you would have got the thrashing of your life.
Mr. Snowden, I am fully informed as to what has been
going on in this car."
"So, that's it; those cubs have been spying on me and reporting
to you, eh?  I might have known it."
"You are mistaken," answered the owner calmly.  "While they had
sufficient provocation to do so, not a murmur has come from
either of them.  They have taken their medicine like men.  I make
it a rule to keep posted on what is going on in every department
of my show.  I therefore know, better than perhaps you yourself
could tell me, what has been going on on Car Three.  And it is
going to stop right here and now."
"What do you mean?"
"In the first place, the work has been unsatisfactory.  The men
have done as well as could be expected of them, but they have
been in such a constant state of rebellion because of your
attitude that the work was bound to suffer."
"You are very frank, sir."
"That's my way of doing business.  You not only have neglected
the work but you have openly defied me and my orders."
"That's exactly what these young cubs have done with me,"
interposed the manager quickly.
"My information is quite to the contrary.  However, be that as it
may, I have decided to make a change."
"Make a change?"
"I do not understand."
"Then I will make it more plain.  I'm through with you."
"You mean you discharge me?"
"You have guessed it."
The manager smiled a superior sort of smile.
"You forget I have a contract with you.  You can't discharge me
until the end of the season."
"And you forget that I have already done so.  Here!  You see, I
come prepared for your objections.  Here is a check for your
salary to the end of the season.  We are quits.  I do not have to
do even that, but no one can say that James Sparling doesn't do
business on the square."
The manager turned a shade paler.
"I--I'm sorry.  When--when do you wish me to leave?"
"Now--this minute!  I want you to get off this car, and if you
don't get off bag and baggage inside of five minutes, I shall
make it my personal business to throw you off," announced the
showman with rising color.  He had contained himself as long as
he could.  The indignities to which his Circus Boys had been
subjected, ever since they joined the car, had stirred the
showman profoundly.
"It is now a quarter to twelve.  At noon sharp, your baggage and
yourself will be outside of this car.  I am in charge here now."
The showman leaned back and watched his former car manager
hurriedly pack his belongings into a suitcase.
"I'll get even with you for this," snarled Snowden as he walked
from the car, slamming the door after him.
"And a good riddance!" muttered the showman rising.  "This will
be a good time for me to look over the books and find out what
shape the car is in."
Mr. Sparling pressed an electric button, and Henry, the porter,
responded to the summons.
"Has Mr. Forrest returned yet?"
"Is Mr. Conley out there?"
"Send him in."
Billy entered the stateroom, a broad smile on his face.
"Sit down, Billy.  Well, our friend has gone.  I suppose you
"On the contrary," replied Billy promptly, "I am tickled
half to death.  Now we'll be able to do some real work!
We'll show you what we can do!  By the way, Mr. Sparling,
are you intending to carry out the plan you told me about
this morning?"
"Yes.  You will have a chance next year."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, we will go over the books together.  I shall have to ask
you some questions as we go along.  Please first tell the porter
to send Phil and Teddy in when they return, but not to tell them
who is here."
Billy went out and gave the showman's orders to the porter.
As it chanced there were none of the other men of the crew
on board the car at that time.  They knew nothing about the
change that was taking place.
Upon Billy's return he and his chief settled down to a busy few
minutes of going over books and reports.  The chief found many
things that did not please him, and his anger grew apace at some
"I guess I did a good job in getting rid of Snowden.  What I
should have done was to have got rid of him before I joined him
out in the spring."
"He was a bad one," agreed Billy.  "I can work with most anybody,
but I never could work with the likes of him.  The boys are
all right.  He wouldn't have had any trouble with them if he'd
used them like human beings.  They both put up with more than
I would have stood.  But I tell you, that boy, Teddy--Spotted
Horse, the boys call him--did hand it out to the Boss.
If Snowden had stayed here much longer I'd been willing
to lay odds that Teddy would have run him off the car.
Did I tell you about how Phil posted the silo?"
"No; what about it?"
Billy began an enthusiastic narration of Phil's clever piece of
work, Mr. Sparling nodding as the story proceeded.
"I am not surprised.  He is a natural born showman.  You will
hear great things from Phil Forrest some of these days, and his
friend, Teddy, will not be so far behind, either, when once he
gets settled down."
"I guess they are coming now," spoke up Conley.  "Somebody got on
the back platform just now.  I'll go out and see."
Billy met the Circus Boys coming in.
"You are wanted in the stateroom," he said.
"More trouble?" laughed Phil.
Billy nodded.
"Maybe, and maybe not, but I reckon the trouble is all over."
Phil and Teddy started for the stateroom.  At the door they
halted, scarcely able to believe their eyes.  There sat
Mr. Sparling, smiling a welcome to them.
"_Mr. Sparling!_" cried Phil dashing in, with Teddy close at
"Yes, I wanted to surprise you," laughed the showman, throwing
an arm about each boy.
"I am so glad to see you," cried Phil, hugging his
employer delightedly.
"And it does my heart good to set eyes on you two once more.
The Sparling organization has not been quite the same since
you left.  And, Teddy, we haven't had any excitement since
"How's the donkey?"
"Kicking everything out of sight that comes near him.  He has not
been in the ring since you left," laughed the showman.
"I wish I was back there.  I don't like this game for a
little bit."
"You mean you do not like the work?"
"Well, no, not exactly that.  The work is all right, but--"
"But what?" persisted Mr. Sparling.
"Never mind, Teddy," interposed Phil.  "No tales, you know."
"I'm telling no tales.  I said I didn't like it and that's
the truth.  May I go back with you, Mr. Sparling?"
"You may if you wish, of course, if you think you want to
leave Phil."
"Is Phil going to stay?"
"Certainly."
Teddy drew a long sigh.
"Then, I guess I'll stay, too, but there's going to be trouble on
this car before the season ends, sir."
"What kind of trouble?"
"I'm going to thrash a man within an inch of his life one of
these fine days."
"I am astonished, Teddy.  Who is the man?"
"Oh, no matter.  A certain party on this car," replied
Teddy airily.
"I sincerely hope you will do nothing of the sort, for conditions
have changed somewhat on Number Three.  Behave yourself, Teddy,
and learn all you can.  You may be a car manager yourself one of
these times, and all this experience will prove useful to you,"
advised Mr. Sparling.
"Not the kind of experience I have been having; that won't be
useful to me," retorted Teddy.
Mr. Sparling and Phil broke out into a hearty laugh, at which
Teddy looked very much grieved.
"Have you seen Mr. Snowden?" questioned Phil, glancing keenly at
his employer.  There was something about the situation that gave
the lad a sudden half-formed idea.
"Yes, I have seen him," answered the showman, his face
sobering instantly.
"Where is he?"
"He has gone away.  I might as well tell you, boys.  Mr. Snowden
is no longer manager of this car.  He is no longer connected with
the Sparling Show in any capacity, nor ever will be again,"
announced Mr. Sparling decisively.
The Circus Boys gazed at him, scarcely able to believe what they
"Not--not on this car any more?" questioned Phil.
"Never again, young man."
"Hip, hip, hooray!" shouted Teddy Tucker at the top of his voice,
hurling his hat up to the roof of the car, and beginning a
miniature war dance about the stateroom, until, for the sake of
saving the furniture, Phil grabbed his friend, threw him over on
the divan and sat down on him.
"Now, Mr. Sparling, having disposed of Teddy, I should like to
hear all about it," laughed Phil.
"He is the same old Teddy.  I can imagine what a pleasant time
Snowden has had with Tucker on board the same car with him.
There is little more to say.  I have been disappointed in Snowden
for sometime.  I had about decided to remove him before you
joined the car.  I wished, however, to send you boys on, knowing
full well that you would soon find out whether there was any
mistake in my estimate of the man.  Then, too, I had other
reasons for sending you in the advance."
"Well, sir, now that he has gone, I will say I am heartily glad
of it, though I am sincerely sorry for Mr. Snowden.  He knew the
work; I wish I were half as familiar with it as he is; but I
wouldn't have his disposition--no, not for a million dollars."
"I would," piped Teddy, whom Phil had permitted to get up.
"I'd be willing to be a raging lion for a million dollars."
"Have you decided what you are going to do with Car Three now?"
inquired Phil.  "You know I am interested now that I have cast
my lot with it."
"Yes; I certainly have decided.  Of course the car will go on
just the same."
"I understand that, but have you made up your mind who you will
appoint as the agent--who will be manager of the car?"
"I presume we shall have to get a man before we can go on?"
"Then we shall have to lie here a day, at least.  Well, we
can busy ourselves.  We are slighting a good many of these
bigger towns.  They are not half-billed."
"I am glad to hear you say that.  It shows that you are already a
good publicity man.  But you will not have to lie here any longer
than you wish," added the showman significantly.
"Will you tell me who the new manager is, Mr. Sparling?"
"Yes.  You are the manager of Car Three!" was the
surprising reply.
THREE CHEERS AND A TIGER
"Man--Manager of Car Three?" stammered Phil.
Teddy's eyes grew large.
"_That_--manager of Car Three?" he said derisively.
Mr. Sparling gave him a stern glance.
"But, Mr. Sparling, I know so little about the work.  Of course I
am proud and happy to be promoted to so responsible a position,
but almost, if not every man on the car, is better equipped for
this work than I am."
"They may be more familiar with some of the details, but as a
whole I do not agree with your view.  In two weeks' time you will
have grasped the details, and I will wager that there will not be
a better agent in the United States."
The Circus Boy flushed happily.
"You will have to be alive.  But I do not need to say that.
You always are alive.  You will have to fight the railroads
constantly, to get your car through on time; you will have
to combat innumerable elements that as yet you have not had
experience with.  However, I have no fear.  I know the stuff
you are made of.  I ought to.  I have known you for nearly
five years."
"I will do my best, Mr. Sparling."
There was no laughter in the eyes of the Circus Boy now.
"Then again, you are going right into territory where you will
have the stiffest kind of opposition.  At least five shows are
booked for our territory almost from now on."
"Have any of them billed that territory?"
"I think the Wild West Show has.  The others are about due
"It is going to be a hand-to-hand conflict, then?"
"Something of that sort," smiled the showman.  "I shall expect
you to beat them all out."
"You are giving me a big contract."
"I am well aware of that.  We all have to do the impossible in
the show business.  That is a part of the game, and the man who
is not equal to it is not a showman."
Phil squared his shoulders a little.
"Then I will be a showman," he said, in a quiet tone.
"That is the talk.  That sounds like Phil Forrest.  It is usual
for shows to have a general agent who has charge of all the
advance work, and who directs the cars and the men from some
central point.  Heretofore I have done all of this myself, but
our show is getting so large, and there is so much opposition in
the field, that I have been thinking of putting on a general
agent next season.  However, we will talk that over later."
"And so you are the car manager, eh," quizzed Teddy.
"It seems so."
"Won't I have a snap now?" chuckled the lad.
"Yes; your work will be done with a snap or back you go to
Mr. Sparling, young man," laughed Phil.  "There will be no
drones in this hive."
"What have you been doing?" inquired the owner.
"I'm the dough boy."
"The dough boy?"
"He has been making paste," Phil informed him.
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"I guess we shall have to graduate you from the paste pot and
give you a diploma.  I cannot afford to pay a man seventy-five
dollars a week to mix up flour and water."
"And steam," corrected the irrepressible Teddy.
"Should not some press work be done from this car?" asked Phil.
"By all means.  It is of vast importance.  Hasn't it been done?"
"No, sir; not since I have been on board.  I would suggest that
we turn Teddy loose on that; let him call on the newspapers,
together with such other work as I may lay out for him.
Teddy is a good mixer and he will make friends of the
newspaper men easily."
"A most excellent idea.  I leave these matters all in your hands.
As to matters of detail, in regard to the outside work, I would
suggest that you consult Conley freely.  He is a good, honest
fellow, and had he a better education he would advance rapidly.
I intend to promote him next season.  Conley told me, this
morning, of your brilliant exploit in billing the silo."
"Oh, you saw him this morning?  Now I understand why he
hurried away and came back all smiles.  You--you told him
I was to be manager?"
"What did he say?"
"He was as pleased as a child with a new toy.  He said you were a
winner in the advance game."
"Will he tell the men?"
"No.  That will be left for you to do in your own way."
Phil nodded reflectively.
"And now let us go into the details.  We will first look over
the railroad contracts, together with the livery, hotel and
other contracts.  I am going to leave you five hundred dollars
in cash, and each week you will send in your payroll to the
treasurer, who will forward the money by express to cover it.
The five hundred is for current expenses.  Spend money with a
lavish hand, where necessary to advance the interests of the
show, and pinch every penny like a miser where it is
not necessary.  That is the way to run a show."
Phil never forgot the advice.
"And Teddy?"
"You may, in addition to your other duties, act as a sort of
office assistant and secretary to Phil.  I shall make only one
request of you.  Write to me every night, giving a full account
of the day's doings, with any suggestions or questions that Phil
may ask you to make, and enclose this with the report sheet.
You understand, Phil, that your regular detailed reports go
to the car behind you.  The one that comes to me is a
brief summary."
"I understand."
"Have you the route?"
"Perhaps it is in the desk.  Yes; here it is.  Now and then we
shall have to make changes in it, of which I shall advise you,
in most instances, by telegraph.  Wire me every morning as to
your whereabouts so I may keep in touch with you."
"You may depend upon me, sir."
"I know it."
For the next half hour Mr. Sparling and Phil were deeply engaged
in poring over the books, the contracts and the innumerable
details appertaining to the work of an advance car.
"There, I guess we have touched upon most everything.  Of course
emergencies will arise daily.  Were it not for those anyone could
run a car.  No two days are alike in any department of the
circus business.  You will meet all emergencies and cope with
them nobly.  Of that I am confident.  And now, Mr. Philip
Forrest, I officially turn over to you Advertising Car Number
Three of the Sparling Shows.  I wish you good luck and no
railroad wrecks.  Come and have lunch with me; then I'll be
getting back to the show.  The rest is up to you."
"Mr. Sparling," said Phil with a slight quaver in his voice, "if
I succeed it will be because of the training you have given me.
I won't say I thank you, for I do not know whether I do or not.
I may make an awful mess of it.  In that case I shall suffer a
sad fall in your estimation.  But it is not my intention to make
a mess of it, just the same."
"You won't.  Come along, Teddy.  We will have a meal, and it
won't be at a contract hotel, either," said the showman, with a
twinkle in his eyes.
The three left the car.  Several of the men had returned from
their lunch, and the word quickly spread through the car that
Mr. Sparling was there.  Rumors of high words between the
showman and Snowden were rife, but none appeared to know
anything definite as to what had really occurred.
Conley knew, but he preserved a discreet silence.
"I reckon, if they wanted us to know what was going on they
would tell us," declared Rosie the Pig.  "That's the trouble
with these cars.  We ain't human.  We ain't supposed to
know anything."
"Rosie, don't talk.  Someday you might make a mistake and really
say something worth listening to," advised Slivers.
For some reason the men evinced no inclination to leave the car.
They hung about, perhaps waiting for something to turn up.
Each felt that there was something in the air, nor were
they mistaken.
It was nearly three o'clock when Phil and Teddy returned to
the car.  Mr. Sparling was not with them.  The lads went direct
to the office, unlocked the door and entered.
The men looked at each other and nodded as if to say, "I told you
so," but none ventured to speak.
After what seemed a long wait Phil stepped from the office,
followed by Teddy.  They heard the lads coming down the corridor.
Phil stopped when he reached the main part of the car.  His face
"Boys," he began, "I have some news for you.  Mr. Sparling has
been here today, as you probably know."
Some of the men nodded.
"The next piece of news is that Mr. Snowden has closed with
the car.  He is no longer manager."
Phil paused, as if to accentuate his words.  The men set up a
great shout.  It was a full minute before they settled down to
listen to his further remarks.
"What I am about to say further is the most difficult thing I
ever did in my life.  I would prefer to turn, or to try to turn,
a triple somersault off a springboard.  Mr. Sparling has
appointed me manager of Car Three.  I suppose, instead of Phil
Forrest, I shall be referred to as The Boss after this."
The whole crew sprang to their feet.
"Three cheers for The Boss!" shouted the Missing Link.
"Hip, hip, hooray!  Tiger!" howled the crew, while Phil stood
blushing like a girl.  Teddy was swelling with pride.
"I'm it, too," he chimed in, tapping his chest significantly.
"Boys," continued Phil, "I probably know less about the actual
work of the advance than any man here.  Anyone of you can give
"No, we can't," interrupted several voices at once.
"I am also younger than any of you.  I know a great deal about
the business back with the show, but not much of what should
be done ahead.  But I am going to know all about it in a very
short time.  While I shall be the Boss, I am going to be the
friend of every man here.  You are not going to be abused.
Just so long as you do your work you will be all right.
The first man caught shirking his work closes then and there.
But I shall have to look to you for my own success.
I'll work _with_ you.  I understand that we have strong
opposition ahead of us.  Let's you and me take off our coats,
tighten our belts, sail in with our feet, our hands and our
heads--and beat the enemy to a standstill!  Will you do it?"
"We will, you bet!" shouted the crew.
"We will beat them to a frazzle," added Rosie the Pig.
"That will be about all from you, Rosie," rebuked the
Missing Link.
"This car leaves at eight o'clock this evening.  After we
get started, come in and I will give you all your assignments
for tomorrow.  My friend, Teddy, has been promoted to the
position of press agent with the car, and a few other things
at the same time.  Henry, you will attend to the paste-making,
beginning tomorrow.  This being a billboard town, I am going
to skip it and get into the territory where the opposition
is stronger.  I have arranged with the local billposters
to take care of the work here."
"That is all I have to say just now, boys.  When you have
anything to ask or to suggest, you know where the office is.
Mr. Conley, will you please come to the office now?  We have
quite a lot to talk over."
The men gave three rousing cheers.
Phil Forrest had made his debut as a car manager in a most
auspicious manner, at the same time winning the loyalty of every
man on the car.
FACING AN EMERGENCY
"Well, this is what I call pretty soft," chuckled Teddy Tucker.
Car Three was under motion again, bowling along for the next
stand, fifty miles away.  The lads were sitting in their cosy
office, Teddy lounging back on the divan, Phil in an easy chair
at the roll-top desk.  The lights shed a soft glow over the room;
the bell rope above their heads swayed, tapping its rings with
the regularity of the tick of a watch.
"Who sleeps upstairs, you or I?" asked Teddy.
"I will, if you prefer the lower berth."
"I do.  It has springs under it."
"You will wish it had no springs, one of these nights, when you
get bounced out of bed to the floor.  Do you know that Pullman
cars have no springs?"
"No; is that so?"
"That is the fact."
"Because, on rough or crooked roads, most of the passengers
would be sleeping in the aisle.  All hands would be bounced out.
You are welcome to the lower berth."
"Shall we turn in and try them?"
"No; I am going to wait until we get to our destination.  I want
to see that the car is properly placed, in view of the fact that
this is our first night in charge.  I want to know how everything
is handled by the railroad.  You may go to bed if you wish."
"No; I guess I will sit up.  I have a book to read.  This is too
fine to spoil by going to bed.  I could sit up all night looking
at the place.  Why, this is just like being on a private car,
"It is a private car."
There were delays along the route to the next stand, and the car
was laid over for more than an hour at a junction point, so that
it was well past midnight when they reached their destination.
Phil and Teddy both went outside when the train entered the
yards, Tucker hopping off as they swung into the station.
"Where are you going?" called Phil.
"Going to see if I can find anything that looks like food,"
answered Teddy, strolling away.  "My stomach must have attention.
It's been hours since it had any material to work with.  Will you
come along?"
"No; I am going to bed as soon as we get placed."
"Bad habit to go to bed on an empty stomach," called back the
irrepressible Teddy.
The train that had drawn them uncoupled and started away; in a
few moments a switching engine backed down, hooked to the show
car and tore back and forth through the yards, finally placing
the car at the far side of the yard behind a long row of
freight cars.
All the men on board were asleep, and now that the car would not
be disturbed before morning, Phil entered his stateroom and went
He had not been asleep long when he felt himself being
violently shaken.  A hand, an insistent hand, was on
his shoulder.
"Phil, wake up!  Wake up!"
The boy was out of bed instantly.
"What is it?  Oh, that you, Teddy?  What did you wake me up for?"
"You'll be glad I did wake you when you hear what I have to say."
"Then hurry up and say it.  I am so sleepy I can scarcely keep my
eyes open.  What time is it?"
"Half-past one."
"Goodness, and we have to get up before five o'clock!  What is it
you wanted to tell me?  Nothing is wrong, I hope."
"I don't know.  But there is something doing."
"Well, well, what is it?"
"I think there is another show car in the yards."
"A show car?"
"You don't say!"
"I _do_ say."
"Who's car is it?"
"I didn't wait to look.  I saw the engine shift it in."
"Where is it?"
"Way over the other side of the station, on the last track."
Phil sprang for his trousers, getting into them in short order,
while Teddy looked on inquiringly.
"Anybody would think you were a fireman the way you tear into
those pants.  What's your rush?"
"Rush?  Teddy Tucker, we have business on hand."
"Yes, business.  It's mighty lucky for us that your appetite
called you out.  I shall never go to sleep again without knowing
who is in the yard, and where.  Come and show me where they are."
"I'm sorry I told you."
"And I am mighty thankful.  You see, something told me to leave
that last town and hurry on."
"Something tells me to go to bed," growled Teddy.
"You come along with me, and be quiet.  Was the car dark?"
"I guess so."
The boys hurried from Car Three; that is, Phil did, Teddy
lagging behind.
"Over that way," he directed.
Phil crawled under a freight car to take a short cut, and ran
lightly across the railroad yards.  The boys passed the station;
then, crossing several switches, they beheld a big, yellow car
looming up faintly under the lights of the station.
"It is an advertising car," breathed Phil.  "I wonder whose it
"You can search me," grumbled Teddy.  "Guess I'll go back to
"You wait until I tell you to go back," commanded Phil.
"Keep quiet, now."
The Circus Boy crept up to the car with great caution.  The light
was so faint, however, that he was obliged to go close to it
before he could read the letters on the side of it.  Even then he
had to take the letters one by one and follow along until he had
read the length of the line.
"Barnum and Bailey's Greatest Show on Earth," was what Phil
Forrest read, and on the end of the car a big figure "4."
"Car Four," he muttered.  "Here's trouble right from the start.
I am right in the thick of it from the word go."
Phil walked back to where Teddy was awaiting him.
"Find out whose car it is?"
"Yes; Barnum & Bailey."
"Humph!  Let's go back to bed."
"There will be no bed for us tonight, I fear.  Wait; let
Phil walked over and sat down on a truck on the station platform,
where he pondered deeply and rapidly.
"All right; I have it figured out.  We have our work cut out
for us.  You wait here while I run back to the car."
Teddy curled up on the truck, promptly going to sleep, while Phil
hurried to the car to get the address of the liveryman who had
the contract for running the country routes for the show.
The lad came running back, and, darting into the station, found
a telephone.  After some delay he succeeded in reaching the
livery stable.
"This is Car Three of the Sparling Shows," he said.
"Yes, Car Three.  I want those teams at our car at two o'clock
this morning.  Not a minute later.  Can't do it?  You've got to
do it!  Do you hear what I say?  I want those teams there at
two o'clock.  Very well; see that you _do!_"
Out to the platform darted Phil in search of Teddy.  The latter
was snoring industriously.
Phil grabbed him by the collar and slammed him down on
the platform.
"Ouch!" howled Teddy.
"Get up, you sleepy-head!"
"I'll friz you for that!" declared Tucker, squaring
off pugnaciously.
"Don't be silly, Teddy.  This is the first emergency we have had
to face.  Don't let's act like a couple of children.  We must
beat the opposition, and I'm going to beat them out, no matter
what the cost or the effort.  Listen!  I want you to go to the
contract livery stable.  Here is the address.  Go as fast as your
legs will carry you."
"What, at this time of night?"
"You go, or you close right here, young man.  Come now, Teddy,
old chap, remember the responsibility of this car rests on your
shoulders almost as much as on mine.  Let's not have any hanging
back on your part."
"I'm not hanging back.  What is it you want me to do?  I'm ready
for anything."
"That's the talk.  Hustle to the livery stable and camp right on
the trail.  See that those teams are here at two o'clock, or by a
quarter after two, at the latest.  Have the men drive up quietly,
and you show them the way.  Don't you go to sleep at the stable.
Now, foot it!"
Teddy was off at a dogtrot.  His pride was aroused.
"I guess we'll clean 'em up!" he growled as he hurried along.
In the meantime, Phil hastened into the station and ran to the
lunch room.  It was closed.
"Pshaw!" he muttered.
Phil now turned toward town on a brisk run.  After searching
about, he found an all-night eating place that looked as if it
might be clean.
"Put me up ten breakfasts.  I have some men that I want to give
an early start.  They haven't time to come here.  Wrap up the
best breakfasts you can get together.  Put in a jug of coffee and
a jug of milk.  I will call for the food inside of half an hour.
Don't delay a minute longer than that.  Hustle it!"
Phil darted out and back to the car.  Every nerve in his body
was centered on the work in hand.  He ran to Conley's berth
and shook him.
"What is it?" mumbled Billy sleepily.
"Get up and come into the stateroom.  There is business on hand."
Billy hopped out of bed, wide awake instantly, and ran to
the stateroom.
Phil briefly explained the situation and what he had planned
to do.  After he had finished Billy eyed him approvingly.
"You're a wonder," he said.  "What about breakfast?"
"I am having some prepared at a restaurant.  But the men will not
have time to eat it.  They may take it with them and eat it on
"I'll rout out the crew," returned Billy, hurrying back into
There was much grumbling and grunting, but as soon as the men
were thoroughly awake they were enthusiastic.  Not a man of them
but that wanted to see this bright-faced, clean-cut young car
manager beat out his adversaries.
By the time the men had washed and dressed the rigs began
to arrive.  These were quickly loaded with brushes, paste
cans and paper, all with scarcely a sound, the men speaking
in subdued tones by Phil's direction.
The darkness before the dawn was over everything.
At last all was in readiness.
Phil handed each man his route.
"Now, boys, it is up to you.  I look to you to put the Greatest
out of business, for one day at least.  You should be out of town
and on the first daub inside of thirty minutes.  I will go with
you and pick up the breakfasts; then you will go it alone.
Don't leave a piece of board as big as a postage stamp uncovered.
Wherever you strike a farmer, make him sign a brief agreement not
to let anyone cover our paper.  Pay him something in addition
to the tickets you give him.  Here is an agreement that you can
copy from.  Make your route as quickly as you can and do it well;
then hurry back here.  I may need you."
"Hooray!" muttered Rosie the Pig.
"Hold your tongue!" commanded Billy, "Think this is a Fourth of
July celebration?"
Phil hopped into one of the wagons, and off they started.  It was
but the work of a few minutes to load the packages of breakfast
into the wagons, after which the men drove quickly away.
Phil paid the bill.  But he was not yet through with his early
morning work.  He made his way to the livery stable.
"Send another rig over to the car at once.  I want you to bring
the day's work of lithographs and banners here, and my men will
work them out from your stables.  I do not want the opposition
car to know what we are doing until it is nearly all done."
"Whew, but you're a whirlwind!" grinned the livery stable man.
The horse and wagon were made ready at once, Phil riding back to
the car with it.  The banner-men and lithographers who were to
work in town had not been awakened.  Phil wished them to get all
the sleep possible; so, with Teddy's help, he loaded the paper on
the wagon and sent the driver away with it.  Then he awakened the
rest of the men.
Phil briefly explained what had happened.
"Now, I want all hands to turn out at once.  Go to the restaurant
on the third street above here and get your breakfasts.  Here is
the money.  By daylight some of the business places will begin
to open.  I want every man of you to spend the forenoon squaring
every place in town.  Make an agreement that no other show is to
be allowed to place a bill in their windows.  While you are
eating your breakfasts I will lay out the streets and assign you.
I have the principal part of the town in my mind, now, so I can
give you the most of your routes.  Teddy, you will turn in and
help square.  I will collect the addresses of the places you
have squared, early in the morning, and by that time I shall
have a squad of town fellows hired, to place the stuff.
Now, get going!"
All hands hurried into their clothes; after locking the car, Phil
led them to the restaurant.  But the Circus Boy did not take the
time to eat.  Instead he busied himself laying out the routes for
the town men to work.
By the time that they had finished their breakfast faint streaks
of dawn were appearing in the east.
"Now, boys, do your prettiest!" urged Phil.
"We will; don't you worry, Boss."
The men hurried off, full of enthusiasm for the work before them,
while Phil started out to round up a squad of men to distribute
the lithographs after his own men had squared the places to
In an hour he had all the men he wanted.  This done, Phil took
his way slowly back to the railroad yards and stepped up to the
platform of his own car.  The freight cars had been removed from
in front of him and the rival car stood out gaudily in the
morning light.  All was quiet in the camp of the rival.  Not a
man of its crew was awake.
"I hope they sleep all day," muttered Phil, entering his own car
and pulling all the shades down, after which he took his position
at a window and watched from behind a shade.
CHAPTER XIII
A BAFFLED CAR MANAGER
It was nearly seven in the morning when Phil's vigil was
rewarded by the sight of a man in his pajamas, emerging
from the rival car.  The man stood on the rear platform and
stretched himself.  All at once he caught sight of Car Three.
The fellow instantly became very wide awake.  Opening the car
door he called to someone within; then three or four men came out
and stared at the Sparling car.
"They are pretty good sleepers over there, I guess," grinned the
rival car manager, for such he proved to be.
The men dodged back, and there was a lively scene in the
rival car.  The men realized that they had been remiss in
their duty in sleeping so late, but still they had not the
least doubt of their ability to outwit their rivals, for
the crew of Car Four was a picked lot who had never yet
been beaten in the publicity game.
About this time Phil Forrest strolled out to the rear platform of
his car.  He was fully dressed save for coat and vest and hat,
yet to all appearances he, too, had just risen.
The manager of the rival car came out and hailed him.
"Hello, young fellow!" he called.
"Good morning," answered Phil sweetly.
"Seems to me you sleep late over there."
"So do you," laughed Phil.  "There must be something in the air
up this way to induce sleep."
"I guess that's right.  Who are you?" inquired the rival manager.
"I am one of the crowd."
"You're the programmer, perhaps?"
"I may be most anything."
The manager of the rival car strolled toward Car Three, whereupon
Phil started, meeting him half-way.  For reasons of his own he
did not wish his rival to get too close to the Sparling car.
"I never saw you before," said the rival, eyeing Phil keenly.
"Nor I you."
"What's your name?"
"Glad to know you, Philip.  How long have you been with the car?"
"A few weeks only."
"Who's your car manager?"
"A fellow named Forrest."
"Never heard of him.  Is he in bed!"
"No; he is out."
"Humph!  What time do you start your men on the country routes?"
"Usually about seven to seven-thirty."
"Well, you won't start them this morning at that time."
"No; I think not."
"I'll tell you what you do; you come and take breakfast with me.
We won't go to any contract hotel, either."
"Thank you; I shall be delighted.  Wait till I get my
clothes on."
Phil hastened back to his own car.
"That fellow is playing a sharp trick.  He is trying to get me
away so he can get his men out ahead of mine.  I will walk into
his trap.  He knows I am the manager.  I could see that by the
way he acted."
Phil stepped out and joined his rival.
"I believe you said you were the manager of that car, did you
not?" asked the rival.
"I am, though I do not recollect having said so."
"A kid like you manager of a car?  I don't know what the show
business is coming to, with all due respect to you, young man."
"Oh, that's all right," answered the Circus Boy with a frank,
innocent smile.  "I am just learning the business, you know."
"I thought so," nodded the rival.  "My name's Tripp--Bob Tripp."
"You been in the business long?"
"Fifteen years, my boy.  After you have been in it as long as I
have, you will know every crook and turn, every trick in the
whole show business," said the fellow proudly.  "You are a
bright-faced young chap.  I should like to have you on my car.
Don't want a job, do you?"
"No, thank you.  I am very well satisfied where I am.  I can
learn on a Sparling car as well as anywhere else, you know."
"Yes, of course."
The couple stopped at the leading hotel of the town, where the
rival manager ordered a fine breakfast.  Phil Forrest was quite
ready for it.  He already had done a heavy day's work and he was
genuinely hungry.
"Guess they don't feed you very well with your outfit,"
smiled Tripp.
"Contract hotels, you know," laughed Phil.  "I do not get a
chance at a meal like this every day."
"Do the way I do."
"How is that?"
"Feed at the good places and charge it up in your
expense account."
"Oh, I couldn't do that.  It would not be right."
"That shows you are new in the business.  Get all you can and
keep all you get.  That's my way of doing things.  I was just
like you when I began."
They tarried unusually long over the meal, Tripp seeming to be in
no hurry.  Phil was sure that he was in no hurry, either.  And he
knew why there was no need for hurry.  Bob, in the meantime, was
relating to the show boy his exploits as a manager.  In fact he
was giving Phil more information about the work of his own car
than he realized at the time.
Now and then the Circus Boy would slip in an innocent question,
which Bob would answer promptly.  By the time the meal was
finished Phil had a pretty clear idea of the workings of his
rival's advance business, as well as their plans for the future,
so far as Tripp knew them.
"By the way, how did you happen to get a berth like this,
young man?" questioned Tripp.  "I thought a fellow by the
name of Snowden was running Car Three for old man Sparling."
"I would rather not talk about that.  You will have to ask
headquarters, or Snowden himself.  You see, it is not my
business, and I make it a rule never to discuss another
fellow's affairs in public."
"Nor your own, eh?"
"Oh, I don't know.  I think I have talked a good deal
this morning.  But you and I had better get back to our
cars and get our men started, had we not?  This is a
late morning all around."
"No hurry, no hurry," urged Bob.  "Why the men haven't got
back from their breakfast yet.  Wait awhile.  Have a smoke."
"Thank you; I do not smoke."
Tripp looked at him in amazement.
"And you in the show business?"
"Is that any reason why a man's habits should not be regular?"
"N-n-n-o," admitted the rival slowly.
"Well, I must be going, just the same.  I have considerable work
to do in the car."
Bob rose reluctantly and followed Phil from the dining room.
He had hoped to detain the young car manager longer, or until
his own men could get a good start on the work of the day.
He looked for no difficulty, however, in outwitting his
young opponent.
As they approached the railroad yards each car stood as they had
left it, shades pulled well down and no signs of life aboard.
"Looks as if your crew was still asleep," smiled Tripp.
"I might say the same of yours, did I not know to the contrary,"
answered Phil suggestively.
Bob shot a keen glance at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing much.  Of course I did not think your men would be
asleep all this time.  They are surely out to breakfast by
"You ain't half as big a fool as you look, are you?" demanded the
rival manager.  "Well, I will see you later."
Each went to his little office and began the work of the day, but
there was a grim smile of satisfaction on the face of each.
Fully an hour passed, and one of the lithographers from the rival
car went aboard with the information that they were unable to get
a piece of paper in any window in town thus far.
"Why not?" demanded Tripp.
"They say their windows are already contracted for," was
"Contracted for?"
"I don't know.  That's all the information we can get."
"Seen any other showmen about town this morning?"
"No; not any that I know, nor any with paper and brush under
"H-m-m-m," mused the showman.  "That's queer.  It can't be that
the young man across the way has got the start of us.  No; that
is not possible.  He is too green for that.  Have his men gone
out on the country routes yet, or are they still asleep?"
"I don't know.  Nobody has seen a living soul around that car
this morning, so far as I know."
"I'll go over town and do a little squaring on my own hook.
I'll soon find out who has been heading us off, if anyone has."
The manager hurried off with his assistant, but even he was
unable to get any information.
He was baffled and perplexed.  He did not understand it.
Tactics entirely new had been sprung on him.  He was an expert
in the old methods of the game, but these were different.
In the meantime, Phil Forrest, the young advance agent, sat
calmly in his stateroom, now and then receiving a report from
Teddy Tucker who sauntered in under cover of a string of freight
cars on the opposite side, then slipped out again.
Teddy was Phil's blockade runner this day.
At noon the party on the rival car all adjourned for luncheon,
and there they were joined by their manager, who discussed the
queer situation with them.  This was the time for Phil Forrest.
"Now for the surprise," he said, hurriedly going uptown, where he
got his own lithographers together, and the crew that he had
hired in town.  Every man had been pledged to silence, as had the
livery stable man and his helpers.
"Now, shoot the stuff out!  Get every window full before those
fellows are through their dinner.  A five-dollar bill for the man
who covers his route first.  The banner locations we cannot fill
so quickly, but they are all secured, so our friend can't take
them away from us.  Now get busy!"
They did.  The men of Car Three forgot that they were hungry.
Never before had the lithographers and banner men worked as they
did that day.  With the extra help that Phil had put on he was
able to cover the ground with wonderful quickness.
When the men of the rival crew emerged from the contract hotel,
and sat down in front to digest the contract meal, they suddenly
opened their eyes in amazement.
In every window within sight of them there hung a gaudy Sparling
circus bill, some windows being plastered full of them.
They called the manager hastily.
"Look!" said his assistant.
"What!  We're tricked!  But they haven't got far with their work.
They haven't had time.  Don't you see, the lazy fellows have just
got to work.  After them, men!  Beat them out!  You've got to out
bill this town!"
As the men hurried out into the other streets the same unpleasant
sight met their eyes.  Every available window bore a Sparling
bill; every wall obtainable had a Sparling banner tacked to it.
One could not look in any direction without his gaze resting on a
Sparling advertisement.
Bob Tripp was mad all through.
He had been outwitted.
In his anger he started for Car Three.  Reaching it he discovered
the young advance agent on the shady side of Car Three, lounging
in a rocking chair reading a book.
Phil's idea of dramatic situations was an excellent one.
"What do you mean, playing such a trick on me?" demanded the
irate rival.
The Circus Boy looked up with an innocent expression on his face.
"Why, Mr. Tripp, what is it?"
"Is that the way you repay my hospitality?" he shouted.
"Please explain."
Phil's tone was mild and soothing.
"You have grabbed every hit in this town.  It's unprofessional.
It's a crooked piece of business.  I'll get even with you
"Why, Mr. Tripp, how can that be, I am green; I am only a
beginner, you know," answered the Circus Boy, with his most
winning smile.
Bop Tripp gazed at him a moment, then with an angry exclamation
turned on his heel and strode back to his own car.
Half an hour later Phil Forrest's men drove in from their
country routes.  They had covered them quickly, having got
such an early start.
Phil heard their reports.  They had left nothing undone.
Phil then hurried over town to pay the bills he had
contracted, first leaving word that not a man was to
leave the car until his return.
He was back in a short time.
"We go out at two o'clock, boys," he announced upon his return.
"I am leaving the banner men here.  They will take a late train
out tonight, and join us in the morning."
An express train came thundering in, and before Bob Tripp knew
what was in the wind it had coupled on to Car Three.  A few
moments later Phil Forrest and his crew were bowling away for
the next stand.  His rivals would not be able to get another
train out until very late that night.
Late in the afternoon Bob Tripp's country crew returned, tired,
disgusted and glum.
"Well, what is it?" demanded the now thoroughly
irritated manager.
"Not a dozen sheets of paper put up by the whole crew," was the
startling announcement.  "That Sparling outfit has plastered
every spot as big as your hand for forty miles around here."
"What!  Why didn't you cover them?" shrieked the manager.
"Cover them--nothing!  They had every location cinched and
nailed down.  Every farmer stood over the other fellow's paper
with a shot gun."
"Sold!  And by a kid at that!" groaned Bob Tripp settling down
despairingly into his office chair.
TEDDY WRITES A LETTER
"I'm only a beginner," mused Phil Forrest, as his car spun along
at a sixty-mile gait.  "And I'm green, and I have a whole lot to
learn, but if Bob Tripp catches up with Car Three, now, he will
have to travel some!"
The next town was made quite early in the afternoon.
Phil, however, did not settle down to wait for another day.
He had wired the liveryman in the next town to meet his car,
so, immediately upon arrival, he bundled his billposters off on
the country routes.
"Work as far as you can before dark, then find places to sleep
at a farmhouse.  Do the best you can.  We must be out of these
yards before noon tomorrow, and as much earlier as possible.
If you can post by moonlight do it, even if you have to wake
the farmers up along the line to get permission."
The men were well-nigh exhausted, but they rose manfully to
the occasion.  They realized that there was a master hand over
them, even if it were the hand of a boy inexperienced in their
line of work.
No manager had ever reeled off work at such a dizzy pace as Phil
Forrest was doing.  It challenged their admiration and made them
forget their weariness.
The country routes started, Phil set his lithographers at work.
The men kept at it until nearly midnight.  They had completed
their work in the town and in the meantime Phil and Teddy had
squared the hits, as they are called--the places where the
banners were to be tacked up--all ready for the banner men to
get to work when they arrived in town next morning, or late
They arrived about midnight, but the other car did not come on
the train with them.  They brought the information that the train
was a limited one, and would not carry the rival car.  Bob Tripp
would not be able to get through until sometime the
next forenoon.
Phil felt like throwing up his hat and shouting with delight,
but his dignity as a car manager would not permit him to do so.
No such limitations were imposed upon Teddy Tucker, however,
and Teddy whooped it up for all that was in him.
All hands were weary when they turned in that night.  At about
eleven o'clock the following morning, the country billposters
came in, having completed their routes.  Phil had made his
arrangements to have his car hauled over the road by a special
engine, and shortly after noon Car Three was again on its way,
every man on board rejoicing over the drubbing they had given
their rival.
Phil Forrest was a hero in their eyes.  Not a man of that crew,
now, but who would go through fire for him, if need be!
That afternoon the same plan was followed, Phil driving his men
out to their work.
"I am sorry, boys," he said.  "I don't like to drive you like
this, but we've simply got to shake off Tripp and his crew.
In a day or so we will be straightened around again so we can
settle down to our regular routine, unless, perhaps, we run
into more trouble.  You have all done nobly.  If it hadn't
been for you I should have been whipped to a standstill by
that other outfit."
"Not you," growled the Missing Link.  "They don't grow the kind
that can whip the likes of you," in which sentiment the entire
crew concurred.
No more was seen of Bob Tripp and his men on that run.
Tripp heard from his general agent, however, with a call-down
that made his head ache.  The general agent kept the telegraph
wires hot for twenty-four hours, and in the end, sent another
car ahead of Tripp into the territory that Phil Forrest and
his men were working.
Phil, of course, was not aware of this at the time, but he found
it out before long.
His car had slipped over into Kansas, by this time, and the crew
were now working their way over the prairies.
"It seems to me that it is time you were attending to your press
work, Teddy Tucker," said Phil on the following day.  "You have
not called at a newspaper office since we started under the
new arrangement."
"Nope," admitted Teddy.
"Why, do you think?"
"I am sure I do not know."
"Well, you ought to, seeing you have been keeping me running my
legs off twenty-four and a half hours out of every day."
"You have been pretty busy, that is a fact.  But you had better
start in today.  You have plenty of time this afternoon to attend
to that work."
"What shall I tell them?"
"Oh, tell them a funny story.  Make them laugh, and they will do
"But I don't know any funny stories."
"Tell them the story of your life as a circus boy.  That will be
funny enough to make a hyena laugh."
"Ho, ho!" exploded Teddy.  "It is a joke.  He who laughs first
laughs last."
"You mean 'he who laughs last laughs best,'" corrected Phil,
smiling broadly.
"Well, maybe.  Something of the sort," grinned the Circus Boy.
"And look here, Teddy!"
"Have you written to Mr. Sparling yet, as he requested you
"And why not?"
"Same reason."
"You must write to him every day, no matter how busy you are.
Sit up a little later every night; go without a meal if
necessary, but follow his directions implicitly."
"Implicitly," mocked Teddy.
However, Mr. Sparling was not without news of what had been
going on on Car Three.  Billy Conley had written fully of
Phil Forrest's brilliant exploits.  After one of these letters,
Mr. Sparling wrote Conley, as follows:
"Those boys will never tell me when they do anything worthwhile.
It isn't like Phil to talk about his own achievements.  So you
write me anything of this sort you think I would like to know.
I do not mean you are to act as a spy, or anything of the sort.
Just write me the things you think they will not write about."
Bill understood and faithfully followed out his
employer's directions.  Mr. Sparling proudly showed
Conley's letters to all of his associates back with
the show, where there was much rejoicing, for everyone
liked Phil; not only liked but held him in sincere
admiration for his many good qualities.
That evening, however, Teddy sat down at the typewriter and
laboriously hammered out a letter to his employer.
"Hang the thing!" he growled.  "I wish I had only one finger."
"Why?  That's a funny wish," laughed Phil.  "Why do you
"Because all the rest of them get in the way when I try to run
a typewriter."
"I am afraid you never would make a piano player, Teddy."
"I don't want to be one.  I would rather ride the
educated donkey.  It's better exercise."  Teddy then
proceeded with his letter.  This is what he wrote:
"Dear Mr. Sparling:"
"Nothing has happened since you were here."
One of the lithographers had a fit in the dining room of the
contract hotel this morning (I don't blame him, do you?) and they
hauled him out by the feet.  We run amuck with another advance
car, the other day, but nobody got into a fight.  I thought rival
cars always--excuse the typewriter, it doesn't know any better--
got into a fight when they met.
"One of the billposters fell off a barn--it was a hay barn,
I think.  I am not sure.  I'll ask Phil before I finish
this letter.  Let me see, what happened to him?  Oh, yes,
I remember.  He broke his arm off and we left him in a
hospital back at Aberdeen.  Phil let one of the banner men
go this morning.  The fellow had false teeth and couldn't
hold tacks in his mouth.  I tell him it would be a good plan
to examine the teeth of all these banner men fellows before
he joins them out, just the same as you would when you're
buying a horse.  Don't you think so?"
"By the way, I almost forgot to tell you.  We ran over a
switchman in the night last night.  I don't think it hurt the
"Well, good-bye.  I'll write again when there is some news.
How's January?  Wish I was back, riding him in the ring.
Expect I'll have an awful time with him when I start in again.
Don't feed him any oats, and keep him off the fresh grass.
I don't want him to get a fat stomach, because I can't get
my legs under him to hold on when he bucks."
"Well, good-bye again.  Love to all the boys."
"Your friend,"
"Teddy Tucker."
"P. S.  Did I tell you we killed the switchman?  Well, we did.
He's dead.  He's switched off for keeps."
"P. S.  Yes, Phil says it was a hay barn that the billposter fell
off from.  Wouldn't it be a good plan to furnish those fellows
with nets?  Billposters are scarce and we can't afford to lose
any good ones."
IN AN EXCITING RACE
"More trouble," announced Teddy, one morning a few days later,
when the boys awoke in Lawrence, Kansas.
"What's the trouble now, Old Calamity?" demanded Phil, who was
washing his face and hands.
Contrary to his usual practice, he had not looked
from his stateroom window immediately upon getting up.
Teddy had, however.  His eyes grew a little larger as
he did so, but otherwise the sight that met them did
not disturb his equanimity in the least.
"The usual."
"What do you mean?  Have we run over another man?"
"Worse than that."
"You are getting to be a regular calamity howler."
"I'm a showman, I am.  I keep my eyes open and I know what's
going on about me.  That's more than you can say for some people
not more than a million miles away."
"All right; I will take that for granted.  But tell me what it is
that is disturbing you so early in the morning?" questioned Phil
with a short laugh.
"We're all surrounded," answered Teddy grimly.
"Surrounded?"
"I don't understand."
"You will, pretty soon."
"Surrounded by what?"
"Opposition."
"What's the matter, can't you hear this morning?"
"I hear very well, but I don't understand what you mean when you
say we are surrounded by opposition.  It strikes me we have been
surrounded by nothing else since we took charge of Car Three."
Teddy nodded.
"Yep, that's right.  But this is different.  On our left, if
you will observe closely, you will notice the canary yellow
of Car Three of the so-called Greatest Show on Earth.  On your
right, if you still keep your eyes open and look hard, you will
discover the flaming red of the Wallace advance car.  And--"
"And, as I was saying, if that fails to make an impression on
you, a glance to the rear will discover to your feeble eyesight,
one John Robinson's publicity car."
Having delivered himself of this monologue, Teddy calmly sat down
and began to draw on his trousers, yawning broadly as he did so.
"Methinks, milord, that trouble is brewing in bucketfuls,"
Phil sprang to the car window, threw up the shade and peered out.
He stepped to the other side of the car, looking from the
window there.
"You're right."
"Of course I am right.  I'm always right.  How does it happen you
did not discover all this after we got in last night!"
"They were not here then.  They must have come in afterwards."
Dashing out into the main part of the car Phil called the men.
"Wake up, fellows!"
"What's up," called a voice.
"The yards are full of opposition.  Three advertising cars are
here besides our own."
No other urging was necessary to get the crew out of bed.
They came tumbling from their upper berths like as many
firemen upon a sudden alarm.  All hands ran to the windows
and peered out.
"Sure enough, they are all here," shouted Conley.  "I reckon they
have caught us napping this time."
"No; they are not awake yet.  I hope they sleep as well as Bob
Tripp's crew did," answered Phil.  "But we have a big job before
us today.  You had better hustle through your breakfasts, boys.
I will call up the livery and get the country routes off at once.
Perhaps we can get ahead of the other fellows."
Phil did so, but as his teams drove up another set swung over the
tracks, pulling up before the canary car.
"Hustle it!  Hustle it!" cried Phil.  "You drivers, if you get
out ahead of the others and keep ahead, you'll get a bonus when
you come in tonight."
Each side was now striving to get away first.  The crew from the
canary car made the getaway ahead of Phil's men, but they had
less than a minute's headway.
The Circus Boys had their coats off and were hustling cans of
paste over the side of the car into the wagons.  Every move on
their part counted.  There was not a particle of lost motion.
Phil sprang into the first wagon to leave.
"Come on, fellows!  Never mind the horses.  I can buy more, if
these break their necks."
With a rattle and a bang both rigs smashed over the tracks,
and were on their way down the village street, each team on
a runaway gallop.  Phil's team was gaining gradually.
"Hang on to the cans!" shouted the Circus Boy.  "We are coming to
a bad crosswalk!"
People paused on the street, not understanding what the mad
pace meant.  A policeman ran out and raised his stick.
Teddy, who had hopped on behind at the last minute, not wishing
to lose any of the fun, now stood up unsteadily, hanging to the
driver's coat collar and nearly pulling that worthy from
They overhauled the first wagon from the canary car and
"Ye--ow!" howled Teddy as their wagon swept by.  "This is a Wild
West outfit!"
The paste cans in the two wagons were dancing a jig by this time.
Teddy suddenly lost his grip on the driver's collar, sitting down
heavily on the nearest can.  At that moment they struck the rough
crossing, whereat Teddy shot up into the air, landing in a heap
by the side of the road.
"Whoa!" commanded Phil, at the same time jumping on the can to
keep it from following in the wake of Teddy.
"Go on!" howled Teddy, partially righting himself.
The driver urged his horses on and the team sprang away with
loud snorts.  But the rival wagon had taken a fresh start,
and was drawing up on the Sparling outfit, the rear team,
with lowered heads, appearing to be running away.
These horses struck the crosswalk with a mighty crash.  The rear
wheels slewed.  The big can of paste was catapulted over a fence,
narrowly missing Teddy Tucker's head as it shot over him.
He flattened himself on the ground, but was up like a flash,
sprinting out of harm's way.
There was reason for his last action.  Other things were coming
his way.  As the wheels of the rival wagon slewed, they struck
The wagon turned turtle, and men, paste brushes, paper and all
were scattered all over the place.
"Oh, that's too bad!" muttered Phil.  "But we can do nothing
for them if we stop.  There are plenty back there to
lend assistance."
His tender heart told him to go back, whether he could be of
service to his rival or not, but his duty lay plain before him.
He must outdistance the enemy.
A second team came plunging down the road from the canary car,
close behind the unfortunate wagon.  These horses, too, were
instantly mixed in the wreck.  The wagon did not turn turtle as
the one before it had done, but one of the horses went down.
Now came other wagons of the Sparling outfit.  They were running
two abreast in the road.  But the drivers saw the obstruction in
time, slowed down and dodged it.  They were off at a tremendous
speed, and a few moments later branched off on different roads,
quickly disappearing in a cloud of dust.
Phil's wagon crew discovered a farm barn just ahead of them.
They drove up to it on a run.  All hands piled out.  And how they
did work!  In a few moments the old barn was a blaze of color.
"First blood for the Sparling Combined Shows!" shouted the boy.
"Now hit the trail for all you are worth!"
They were off again.  A cloud of dust to their rear told them
that one of their rival's wagons was after them.  At the next
stop the pursuing wagon rolled by them, the men
yelling derisively.
"It is the Wallace Show's crowd!" shouted Phil.
"Get after them."
The Wallace people went on half a mile further.  As Phil drew
up on them he shouted to his driver to go on to the next stop.
When they made it finally, they were passed by the crew from
the canary advance car.
It was give and take.  Such billing never had been seen along the
Kansas highway before.  But, up to the present moment, the
Sparling crew had much the best of it.
"This won't do, boys; I have got to get back.  I have no
business here.  Keep this right up.  Don't lag for an instant.
Is there a town near here?"
The driver informed Phil that there was one about a mile ahead
Phil rode on until he reached it.  Here he jumped out, taking a
bundle of paper with him, ordering his men to drive on.  With him
he carried a bucket of paste and a brush.
Phil went to work like a seasoned billposter, plastering every
old stable and tight board fence in the village.  By the time
the rival crews drove in there was little space left for them,
and such spots as were left were all on back or side streets.
"I guess they will know we have been here," decided Phil.  "Now I
must find a way to get back to the car."
Inquiring at the post office he learned where he might be able to
Losing not a minute the boy hunted up the man who owned the
horse, and, by offering to pay him about twice what the service
was worth, got the fellow to take him back.
The journey back to town was executed in almost as good time as
that which Phil had made in driving out.  The rig rattled into
town at a gallop, and Phil was landed on his car again, safe and
sound after his exciting rides.
"Did you beat them," cried Teddy, as Phil drove up.
"We did and we didn't.  But we have got the start of them on
the billing.  Were any of the other men hurt?"
"One of the canary bird crowd got a broken arm.  The others were
pretty well bruised up, but they are still in the ring."
"What is doing in the town?"
"I sent our men out to square the locations.  Told them not to
put up any paper, but to hustle the squaring."
"Good for you, Teddy!  You are a winner.  Where did you learn
that trick?"
"Oh, it's a little trick I picked up the other day.  I'm a
professional publicity man, you know."
"Are our opposition friends doing the same thing?"
"I think not.  I got the start of them by fully an hour.
Worked the same game on them that we did on Tripp the
other day.  You remember?"
Phil nodded.  Indeed, he did remember.
"The men were so excited over the race that they couldn't spend
time to attend to business.  I got a pretty good bump, but I
thought it was a good time to get back in the town and hustle
our fellows, seeing that you had hit the long trail.  I didn't
expect you back before the middle of next week, the rate you
were going."
Phil laughed good-naturedly.
"You remain here and watch the car, Teddy.  I am going to run
over town.  Had your breakfast?"
"Say, I forgot all about that.  I haven't had a thing."
"Your appetite will keep.  I must look around a little.
Something may be going on that needs attention from our side."
Phil had reason, a few minutes later, to be thankful that his
instinct had prompted him to hurry over town.
A BATTLE OF WITS
"The Robinson people, at least, have got to work," muttered the
Circus Boy as he made his way downtown.  Here and there, at rare
intervals, he came across a window bill of the show mentioned.
There were blocks of windows, however, with no billing in them.
Phil interpreted this to mean that his own men had secured the
requisite permission to place their own bills there.
He smiled as he thought of the little trick.  It was an idea
of his own to square locations ahead of the lithographers.
Ordinarily, the lithographer made his rounds with a bundle of
bills on his arm.  Entering a store he would say, "May I place
this bill in your window?"  Phil had adopted the plan of sending
the men around first.  After they had obtained the signed
permission they would go back over the same ground and place
the bills.  This took a little more time, but it had the merit
of fooling his rivals and getting many more places squared than
could have been done in the old way.
Suddenly a great wall loomed ahead of him.
Phil paused and surveyed it critically.
"Wouldn't I like to fasten Sparling banners all over that
place, though.  What a hit that would be.  Why," he added
looking about him, "it could be seen pretty much all
Phil started on, intending to find out who owned the building.
As he did so he saw a man from the canary-colored car entering
the building.  The man was going into a store on the
ground floor.
"I'll bet he is after that very wall.  Oh, pshaw!  Why didn't I
stay in town and attend to my business, as I should have done,
instead of racing over the country at that mad pace?  I'm going
over to see what he is up to."
The Circus Boy hurried along.  Entering the store he saw the
man from the rival car, who proved to be the manager of it,
engaged in earnest conversation with a man whom Phil supposed
to be the proprietor.
After a little the manager of the other car hurried out.
Phil stepped forward.
"Are you the proprietor?" he asked politely.
"Yes; what can I do for you?"
"Do you own this building?"
"No, but I am the agent for it."
"Very good.  You are the man I want to talk with.  I am from the
Sparling Shows.  I should like the privilege of fastening some
banners on that south wall there."
"You're too late, young man.  I just gave the other man
permission to do that."
"Did he pay you?" asked Phil sweetly.
"Did you sign a contract with him?"
"May I ask how much he is to give you for the privilege?"
"Twenty-five dollars."
"He ought to be ashamed to offer you such a mean figure as that
for such a privilege."
The proprietor grew interested.
"Where has he gone?"
"Said he had to talk with someone back with the show by long
distance telephone before he could close the bargain."
Phil glanced apprehensively at the door.
"I guess you had better sell the privilege to me while you have
the chance.  He may not come back, you know; then you will be out
all around."
"I couldn't think of it.  I gave him the privilege of buying
"Money talks, doesn't it, sir?"
"It does, young man.  It always makes such a loud noise around me
that I can't hear much of anything else."
Phil grinned.
"Yes; it's pretty noisy stuff."
The lad calmly drew a big roll of bills from his pocket, placing
it on the counter before the storekeeper.  To the pile he added
his watch, a jackknife, a bunch of keys and a silver matchbox.
"Help yourself," he begged calmly.
"Wha--what?" gasped the storekeeper.
"I said help yourself.  I want that wall.  I leave it to you to
say what is a reasonable price for it--a price fair to you and
to me.  You admit that money talks.  This money is addressing
its remarks to you direct, at this very moment."
The proprietor hesitated, glanced at the money and other articles
that Phil had arrayed so temptingly before him, and turned
reflectively facing the rear of the store.
"I will scribble off a little contract," said Phil softly.
"How much shall we make the consideration?"
"What'll you give?"
"I've got him!" was Phil Forrest's triumphant thought, but he
allowed none of his triumphant feeling to appear in his face.
"Well, were I making the offer I should say the wall was worth
about forty dollars, no other bills to appear on it until
after my show has left town.  But I told you to help yourself.
I'll stick to my word."
"Count me out forty dollars and take it.  I like your style.
Your way of doing business makes a hit with me."
Phil inserted the agreed-upon price in the contract.
"Just sign your name there, please," he said, still in that soft,
persuasive voice.
The storekeeper read the brief contract through, nodded
approvingly, then affixed his signature with the fountain pen
that Phil had handed to him.
This done, the lad counted out forty dollars, stowed the rest
away in his pockets, together with his other belongings, then
extended his hand cordially to the proprietor.
"Thank you very much," murmured Phil, his face all aglow now.
"You're welcome.  When do you put up your bills?"
"At once.  We leave town tonight, and we have a lot of work to
"Let's see; were you one of the fellows mixed up in that race
this morning?"
Phil blushed.
"I am afraid I was very much mixed up in it.
Well, good afternoon."
The lad turned and started for the door.  At that moment
someone entered.  It was the manager of the canary car.
"It's all right.  I'll take the location," he announced, smiling
broadly, as he walked rapidly to where the proprietor was
standing, laying two tens and a five-dollar bill on the counter.
"I--I'm sorry," stammered the storekeeper, flushing.  "I have
just sold it to another party."
The manager's face went several shades paler.
"To--to whom?"
"To that young gentleman there."
The manager whirled and faced Phil.
"Who--who are you?"
"My name is Forrest," answered Phil, smiling easily.  He could
well afford to smile.
"And you--you have bought this location?"
"Whom do you represent?"
"The Sparling Combined Shows."
The Circus Boy's rival flushed angrily.
"I demand that the location be turned over to me instantly!
It belongs to me, and I'll have it if I have to fight for it.
Here's my money, Mr. Storekeeper.  I command you to make out
a paper giving me the right to bill that wall."
"I do not think he will do anything of the sort, my dear sir,"
spoke up Phil.  "I have bought and paid for the location and
I propose to hold it.  You had no more right to it than any
other man.  You did not have the nerve to put down your money
for it when you had the chance, and you lost your opportunity.
You will see the wall covered with Sparling banners in a very
short time."
"I will not!"
"Be on your way, my man.  Let me tell you the Sparling banners
are going up."
"There's my money!" shouted the manager of the canary
colored car.  "The wall is _mine!_"
He dashed out of the store and started for his car on the run.
"If you let those other showmen banner the wall I'll have
the law on you!" announced Phil sternly.  Then the Circus
Boy ran out of the store, starting off at a lively sprint
for his own car.  He caught up with the rival manager in
a moment, passed him and bounded on.  His rival already
was puffing and perspiring under the unusual effort.
"Turn out every man in town!" he called, dashing into the car.
"Teddy, run to the main street and send everyone of our banner
men and lithographers to the Ward Building.  You and Henry carry
over there at once all the banners you can scrape together.
Do not lose a minute.  But wait!  I'll telephone the liveryman
for a wagon to carry the paper, brushes and paste pots over.
You remain here, Henry, and go with the wagon.  Teddy, you
hustle for the men.  Run as if the Rhino from the Sparling
menagerie were charging you!"
Teddy leaped from the car platform and was off, with Phil
sprinting after him in long strides.
They passed the manager of the canary colored car just as they
were running across the switches in the railroad yard.  He was
only then getting to his car.
CHAPTER XVII
THE CHARGE OF THE PASTE BRIGADE
Phil's plans were formed instantly.
He ran to a place where he had seen a painter's sign earlier
in the day.  Reaching there he ordered the painter to send out
to the Ward Building a gang of painters with their swinging
platform, tackle and full equipment, telling the man briefly
what was wanted of him after the apparatus reached the building
in question.
"Now hurry it, and I'll double the price you ask if you get there
and do the work I am asking of you."
The painter needed no further inducement.  Once again money made
its announcement in unmistakable tones.
Phil again started off on a run.  Reaching the Ward Building he
found his banner men and lithographers gathering.  A few moments
after his arrival the livery wagon with the paste, brushes and
paper, came dashing up with Henry, the porter, standing guard
over it.  Teddy had thoughtfully turned out all the available men
in the livery stable and came charging down the street, driving
them before him, howling at every jump.  That is, Teddy was
howling; as he did whenever the occasion presented itself.
By this time quite a crowd had been attracted to the scene,
not understanding what all the excitement was about.  None of
the rival posters had appeared as yet.  Phil had got a very
Telling off three of his banner men he sent them to the roof,
while the painter was preparing to swing his scaffold.
"I am afraid I shall have to block your store for a short time,
Mr. Storekeeper," said Phil, entering the store.  "Our friend is
going to try to take the place by storm, I think, and we shall
have to stand him off."
"He had better not try it," growled the proprietor.
"He will, just the same.  But, with your permission, he will not
get upstairs to the roof while I am here."
"Do whatever you like.  I've got his money, but it's here for him
when he wants it."
Phil, having arranged with the proprietor, went out and gave his
final instructions to his men.
"You are not to let a man through here unless with my
permission," he said.  "I am going up to the roof.  If anything
occurs, call me at once.  Teddy, I leave the front of the store
in your hands while I am away.  There is trouble brewing.  I feel
it in my bones."
"Yes; trouble for the other fellow," grinned Teddy.
In a very short time the painters had succeeded in swinging their
scaffold over the roof.  An interested crowd was watching the
proceeding from the street.
The banner men climbed down on the swinging platform, and, as if
by magic, the Sparling banners began appearing on the big wall.
About this time shouting down in the street drew the attention of
Phil Forrest.  Stepping to the edge of the roof he looked down.
A crowd was pressing his men back.
In the lead was the manager of the canary car.
"Drive them off!" roared Phil.  "Don't let them get by you!"
"We will!" shrieked Teddy Tucker, now in his element.
Phil turned and hurried down the ladder to the upper floor, then
took the stairs in a series of jumps until he had reached the
ground floor.
Teddy Tucker had proved himself a real general.  He had armed his
forces with paste brushes, which he had first thoroughly soaked
in the sticky paste pots.
Teddy was dancing up and down the line.
"Paste them, fellows!" he roared.  "Paste them good and proper.
We'll stick them to the walls when we get them properly daubed!"
With a yell the Sparling crowd began wielding the paste brushes.
They wielded them effectively, too.  Every sweep of the brushes
found a human mark.
Shouts of rage followed the onslaught, above which could be heard
the voice of the manager of the canary car, urging the crowd on
to violence.
Phil came dashing out.
"Drive them back!" he shouted.  "But be careful that you do not
hurt anybody.  Keep your heads, men!"
"Look out--the police are coming!" shouted a voice.
"Never mind the police!  Give it to them!" cried the rival.
A squad of bluecoats came charging down the street.
"Steady, fellows!  Don't do anything that will cause the police
to take you in," cautioned Phil.
The crowd in front gave way as the police charged in; and, as
they did so, the Circus Boy pushed his way to the front of his
A sergeant made for him with upraised club, but Phil did
"Wait a minute, officer!" he cautioned.
"I arrest you for disturbing the peace!" was the stern reply.
"You will do nothing of the sort, sir.  We have not broken
the peace.  We are within our rights, protecting our own
property and the property of this gentleman," pointing to
the proprietor of the store.
"Arrest them!  They are stealing my property!" came the cry from
the rival manager.
"I guess you had better both come over to the police station, and
we will let the captain settle this," decided the sergeant.
"Wait!" commanded the rival.  "I have here an injunction
commanding this fellow to stop work.  I have bought the right to
banner this location, and he has stepped in and taken it away
"Is this right?" demanded the sergeant, appealing to the
storekeeper, whom he knew well.
"No, it's all wrong.  That man has bought nothing.  He left
his money on my counter after I had sold my wall to this
young man here."
"Is this right?" repeated the sergeant turning to Phil.
"I am inclined to think it is.  If that man has obtained an
injunction, he has done so by false representation.  Here is my
contract, properly signed, giving us the right to put up our
banners, and that is exactly what we are going to do in spite of
all the police in the state.  You can't stop us.  You had better
The sergeant glanced over the paper and scratched his head.
He was at a loss what to do.  At that moment a lieutenant came
running up, demanding to know what the trouble was about.
The sergeant explained, handing the contract to his superior.
After perusing it, the lieutenant passed the paper back to Phil.
"You can't stop this man as long as he is not disturbing
the peace.  That fellow's injunction is not worth the paper
it is written on.  This is a contract as plain as the nose
on your face."
"That is the way it strikes me," answered Phil, with a
pleasant smile.
"Disperse the crowd.  Keep half a dozen men on duty here, and, if
there is any further disturbance, lock them all up."
"Thank you," said Phil, edging near the lieutenant.  "And, now
that the matter is all settled, if you will call at the Sparling
advance car this afternoon, at five o'clock, I shall be happy to
furnish you with tickets for yourself and family.  That is not a
bribe, because we have got the matter all straightened out."
The lieutenant smiled.
"I'll do it," he said.  "Five o'clock, you say?"
"Now, get out of here, the whole crowd of you.  And you, young
fellow," indicating the manager of the canary rival, "if you
create any further disturbance in this town, you'll go to the
cooler, and stay there.  Do you understand?"
The rival manager tried to protest, but the lieutenant started
"I want my money!" he shouted.
"Come and get it.  I don't want your money."
"I told you that before," called the storekeeper.
"Go, get your money, and get out of here!" commanded
the lieutenant.
Crestfallen and now thoroughly subdued, the manager of the canary
car made his way through the crowd; his money was thrust into his
hands; then, calling upon his men to follow him, he hurried away.
"There, I guess we won't hear any more from our canary bird
friend today," decided Teddy, strutting about and throwing out
"Not today, perhaps," answered Phil Forrest; "but I am thinking
we have not heard the last of him yet.  We shall have to look
pretty sharply, or he will get the best of us yet.  This is
a game that one person cannot expect to win at every day.
Boys, you may go back to your lithographing now.  The police
will see that we are protected until we have finished bannering
this building."
Phil walked off half a block to survey the work going on high up
"That location is worth five hundred dollars to any show,"
he mused.  "And I got it for forty.  Good job!"
CHAPTER XVIII
THE MISSING SHOW CARS
The work was completed late that afternoon.  The Sparling crowd
had got the best of their rivals in the window work as well.
Sparling show bills were everywhere.
But Phil was thoughtful.  He did not like the methods he was
obliged to follow, yet he knew that it was a part of the
show business.  He had the satisfaction, too, of knowing that
he had done nothing unfair.  He had got the best of his rivals
by perfectly fair methods, and he would pursue no others, no
matter how badly he was beaten.
After making a round of the town, during which he had twice
passed the scowling manager of the canary car, Phil returned
to his own car, as there were frequently matters arising there
that needed his attention.  He found a telegram awaiting him
from Mr. Sparling.
"The greatest work ever done by an advance car.  I congratulate
you all.  Keep it up," was what Phil read.
Phil rubbed his forehead in perplexity.
"Now, how in the world did he find out about this so soon, I
wonder?" questioned the boy.  As a matter of fact, the manager of
the Robinson Show's car, who was a friend of Mr. Sparling, had
wired him of the day's doings.  It was too good to keep, and then
again Mr. Sparling's friend was too delighted at the downfall of
Snowden, the man whom he thoroughly disliked, to be at all
jealous of Phil's triumph.
Phil went over to the yardmaster to find out what train he would
be able to go out on that night.
"We are going to send the whole bunch of you out on number 42,"
was the reply.
"What time does number 42 leave?"
"Half-past eleven."
"What do you mean by 'the bunch of us'?"
"All you advance car fellows.  I have got to do that.  That is
the only train through tonight.  You will have to go on that or
wait until tomorrow morning."
"Very well; I do not know as I care whether my rivals go on the
same train or not.  It would do me no good if I did object."
That night the unusual sight of four advance cars hooked together
was presented to those who chanced to be in the railroad yards
when number 42 pulled out of the station.
Car Three had been coupled up first, the others being hooked on
behind it, with the canary car at the rear.
"I am afraid we shall not cut a very big slice tomorrow, Teddy,"
said Phil after they had got under way.
"What, with all those crews working against us?  It will be a
case of three to one.  Of course we shall do as much as any one
of them, and perhaps a little more, but we cannot expect any
great results."
"Maybe I can think of something," mused Teddy.
"I wish you might."
"What would you say to ditching the other fellows?" asked
Teddy innocently.
"Teddy Tucker, I am ashamed of you!" exclaimed Phil.
"Sometimes I am ashamed of myself, I am so easy.  If it wasn't
for my tender heart, Phil, I would have been a great showman by
"Yes, it really is too bad about your tender heart.  I--"
His words were cut short by a jolt that nearly threw the lads
from their chairs.
"Collision!" yelled Teddy.  "Brace yourself!"
"Don't get excited," laughed Phil.  "They have forgotten or
neglected to couple the airbrake pipes up.  Someday one of
these crews will wreck us all.  I have talked until I am tired.
You see there is air on the front end of this train, but these
show cars have not been coupled up with the air pipes of the
regular train.  It is very bad business.  I'll report it when
we get in tomorrow."
"Let me.  I know how to do it up brown."
"No, I will attend to it myself."
"Say, Phil!"
"If the air was coupled on and the train broke in two in the
middle what would happen?"
"Why it would bring everything up standing.  Breaking the air
circuit would set the brakes the entire length of the train."
"And if the air was not coupled up, what then?"
"In that event nothing would happen."
"The train wouldn't stop?"
"Why do you ask?"
"For information.  What do you suppose I am asking for unless I
want to know."
Teddy relapsed into a moody silence.
"Why don't you go to bed?" Teddy asked after awhile, looking
up suddenly.
"I guess it would be a good idea," replied Phil.  "We shall
have to get up rather early in the morning.  I will set my
alarm for three o'clock.  I have an idea some of the rival
crews will be up and out about that time.  They won't be so
easily beaten tomorrow."
"Oh, I don't know," answered Teddy.  "Maybe so and maybe not.
You can't most always sometimes tell."
"Aren't you going to turn in?" demanded Phil, beginning
"No, not yet.  I am not very sleepy tonight."
"You will be, in the morning, and you will not want to get up,"
cautioned Phil.
"I will take the chance."
Teddy picked up a book and settled himself to read.
Little conversation passed between them after that, and Phil,
tumbling into his berth, was soon asleep.
Teddy eyed him narrowly.  He waited until his companion was
sleeping soundly; then Teddy got up and strolled out to the
rear platform.  It was deserted.  The trainmen did not come
back that far, because the doors of the show cars were kept
locked so they could not.  Show people do not like strangers
Teddy lay down on the platform, peering down between the cars.
"No, no air is coupled on.  They ought to be ashamed of
themselves," he muttered.  "I guess they must have fixed it up
for me on purpose."
Teddy opened the door of Car Three softly, listened, then closed
it again.  Next he leaned out and looked along the tracks, which
he could see fairly well, for the moon was now shining brightly.
"I guess there is no grade here."  Stepping across to the
platform of the car to the rear of him, the boy partially set
the brake until he could feel it grinding on the wheels.
"Now, I think we are all ready," he muttered, as, stepping back
to the platform of his own car, he grasped the coupling lever
firmly with both hands, giving it a mighty tug.
At first it would not budge.  The drawheads of the couplers of
the two cars were straining because of the drag of the brake that
he had but just set.
Teddy loosened the brake a little, then tried the coupling
lever again.
This time it swung over with a bang.  The lad lost his balance
for an instant, and nearly went overboard.
"My, that was a close shave," he exclaimed, hanging desperately
to the platform railing, the wind blowing about him in a
perfect gale.
"Hello, I wonder what has become of our friends?" laughed the
Circus Boy to himself.
Teddy had uncoupled Car Three from the others in their rear, and
the cars of his rivals were dropping behind rapidly.  He could
see the dim lights in the car nearest to him, but even these were
rapidly disappearing.  A few minutes later as the train swept
around a bend, the rival advertising cars disappeared from sight.
Teddy knew that they would stop in a few minutes, and lie
there stalled.
Teddy Tucker had done a very serious thing, but in his zeal he
thought he had accomplished a great feat.  Well satisfied with
his efforts the lad entered his own car softly, undressed in the
corridor and crept quietly to bed.  In a very short time he was
snoring, sleeping the sleep of peace and innocence.
Teddy hardly moved again that night, until he was roused out by
Phil at three o'clock the next morning.
The lad grumbled sleepily and finally tumbled out rubbing
Phil stepped out to the rear platform before dressing, for a
breath of the fresh morning air.
"Why, Teddy!" he called through the open door.
"The opposition cars are not here.  The other train must have
carried them on.  I wonder if those fellows are stealing a march
"Is that so?"
"Yes; come out and see for yourself."
Teddy stumbled out to the platform, gazed about sleepily and
looked solemn.
"No, not here," he said, turning back into the car.
Phil was worried.  He could not imagine exactly what the plans of
his rivals might be.
"I will wire on to the next stand as soon as the telegraph office
opens, and find out if they are there," he decided.
In the meantime Teddy was taking his time about dressing, while
the men of the crew were hurrying into their clothes.  Phil did
the same, then dropped from the car and walked about the yards,
rather expecting to find the cars of his rivals hidden behind
freight cars.
They were nowhere in sight.
"Well, it cannot be helped, even if we are beaten into the
next stand.  This is a small place, but an important one.
I cannot afford to skip it, no matter if the other
fellows have."
Teddy went about his morning duties as usual, solemn faced
and silent, but there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that
Phil Forrest as yet had failed to observe.
Phil was pacing up and down on the platform station, waiting
uneasily for the operator to appear.  After making ready, the
men went off to breakfast, Teddy hanging about the car, busying
himself with trifling matters.  The car seemed to hold an unusual
interest for him that morning.
At six o'clock the livery rigs drove up and the rural route men
were soon off for their day's work.  Phil started the
lithographers and banner men out soon thereafter.
About that time the operator arrived; Phil wrote a message to
the liveryman at the next town, inquiring if his rivals had
reached there.
The answer came back that nothing had been seen of them.
They had not even passed through.  The operator at the
other end said they were at Salina, where Phil's car was
at that moment.
This was a puzzler.
"I am afraid it will take a better railroad man than I am to
figure this problem out," mused Phil.  "Hey, Teddy!"
"What do you suppose could have become of those other cars?"
"How should I know?"
"They were on this train last night, when we started, and
they have not arrived at the next stand yet.  They surely
are not here."
"Maybe they got a hot journal and had to stop," suggested Teddy.
"Nonsense!  Something has happened to them.  However, it is not
my business to worry about my rivals.  As long as I know they are
not ahead of me I shall not disturb myself.  It is up to me to
improve the opportunity and bill this town from one end to the
other," decided Phil, starting off over town.
The work went on at a lively pace, Phil urging his men to greater
efforts, momentarily expecting to see the canary and red cars
come rolling into town.
But no cars came.  The next train from the direction Phil had
come was not due until nearly noon, the road being a branch road
with little traffic over it.
After a time Phil strolled down to the railroad station.
"Any news?" he asked.
"Yes," answered the operator.  "They have found the cars."
"It seems they broke away from the train during the night and lay
on the main track until morning.  One of the crew walked back ten
miles to the next station to ask for an engine to pull them out.
They will be here on the next train."
"Funny the train crew did not discover that when they put us on
the siding here.  I do not quite understand it yet?" Phil walked
slowly back to his own car, thinking deeply.
PHIL'S DARING PLAN
Teddy was sitting on the platform of Car Three narrowly watching
Phil as he approached.
"Anything doing?" he asked.
"What is it--have you heard from the opposition?"
"Yes.  It seems their cars broke away from us during the night,
and lay all night on the main track miles from anywhere."
"You don't say!" exclaimed Teddy, in well feigned surprise.
"That is what happened.  We are in luck this morning,
Teddy Tucker.  I suppose I should be sorry for our rivals.
But it is the chance of war.  We all have to take them in
the show business."
"We do," answered Teddy sagely.  "At least the other fellow does.
When are they coming in?"
"About noon, I understand.  I should think someone would lose his
job for that piece of carelessness.  If it were my car that had
been laid out there would be trouble; I can assure you of that."
"Yes; I wouldn't stand for a mean trick like that myself."
Phil stroked his chin and surveyed Teddy thoughtfully.  Light was
beginning to dawn upon him.  All at once he recalled his
companion's questions about the air brake pipes the night before.
He fixed his gaze upon Teddy Tucker's scowling face.
"Young man, do you know anything about those cars breaking away?"
demanded Phil sternly.
"I understand they broke away--don't you know that the train
broke in two?"
"Yes," answered Phil dryly; "I have heard something to
that effect."
Phil stepped over to examine the coupling of his own car, Teddy
watching him furtively.
"What I want to know is how it happened," continued Phil.
"Why don't you ask the train crew?  They ought to know."
"I'll ask you instead.  You uncoupled those cars, didn't you?"
Teddy nodded slowly, his eyes on the ground.
"Is it possible that you did a thing like that?"
Teddy nodded again, demanding sullenly:
"Well, we beat 'em, didn't we?"
"Yes; but do you know what would happen, were it known what you
"I'm easy.  What would happen?" Teddy was rapidly assuming a
belligerent attitude.
"You would be arrested, and nothing could keep you from state's
prison, Teddy Tucker."
"Oh, fudge!"
"You may scoff all you will.  It is the truth, nevertheless.
I should not be surprised if there were an investigation over
this affair--"
"And you'll go tell all you know, won't you?"
"Not unless I am put under oath.  If I am, and am asked, I shall
have to tell the truth.  I ought to sail in and give you a good
thrashing here and now."
"You can't do it!"
"Perhaps not, but I could try."  A smile struggled to dissipate
the clouds on Phil's face.  "Listen to me!  Do you know that you
might have imperilled a great many lives by that foolish act of
"In the first place, being cut loose from our train as they were,
they might have continued on, provided we were on a down or up
grade and--"
"We weren't.  I looked to see," interjected Teddy.
"Oh, then you admit the charge.  I am glad that you
have confessed."
"I haven't confessed!" shouted Teddy, his face growing very red.
"If you said that on trial it would be jail for you for some
years to come.  To return to the subject under discussion, all
the men were asleep in those cars, or at least they were supposed
to be.  Had there been another train over the road, last night,
the chances are that it would have run into those show cars
and killed every man in them, besides wrecking the train itself
and killing a lot more people.  I am willing to take long chances
in the line of duty, but I should hope I never would commit a
crime in so doing.  Let this be a warning to you, Teddy Tucker.
Never do a thing like this again.  We will beat our rivals by all
fair means and we will stop there."
Phil paused, eyeing his companion sternly.
Teddy glanced up inquiringly.
"Is the sermon over?" he asked.
"I have no more advice to offer at the present moment.  I hope
for your sake that the inquiry in this matter will not extend
to us.  If it does, I feel sorry for you."
An inquiry did follow.  It was stirred up most thoroughly by the
manager of the canary colored car.  But, fortunately for Teddy
Tucker, no suspicion of the truth ever dawned upon the rival
manager, and the railroad got out of the scrape by disciplining
the train crew that had lost the three cars without knowing it.
However, the lesson was a wholesome one for Teddy, even though he
would not admit the fact.  The lesson lasted him pretty nearly
all the rest of the season.
The three rival cars came rolling into the yards early in
the afternoon of that day.  All hands were angry and ready
for trouble.  Phil passed the time of day pleasantly with
his opponent of the previous day, but the manager of the
yellow car did not deign to make any reply to his greeting.
The hour was late before he was able to start his men out, and by
that time Phil's crew had pretty well covered the town and the
surrounding country, though the posters of the latter territory
had very long drives, and were not expected to return until very
long after dark.
Phil chafed under this, fearing that he would be obliged to miss
the last train out that night, which would again put him on the
same train with his rivals next day.
One of his men would have a thirty-five-mile drive back after he
had finished his day's work.  That would bring the man "home,"
as the return to the car is called, long after midnight in
all probability.
Inquiry at the station and a wire to the division superintendent
failed to get a special engine to haul Car Three out that night.
But in his talk with the station agent Phil learned something
that set him thinking.  He pondered over the information he had
obtained, for sometime.
"I believe I can do it," he muttered.  "Talk about Teddy taking
long chances, I am going to try to take some chances tonight that
are far more dangerous.  But I must do something."
Phil had seen a section gang go out in the morning.  They had not
come in yet, so the Circus Boy strolled over toward the station
shortly after six o'clock waiting for the section gang to return.
They did not come in until after seven o'clock.
As the men were going by the station, having put their
handcar away, Phil motioned to the foreman of the gang,
a bright faced Irishman.
"How are you?" greeted Phil smilingly.
The foreman waved a hand, at which Phil beckoned the man to come
"Are there any more trains over this division tonight?"
"Only number forty-two going west."
"She is due shortly after midnight, is she not?"
"Do you like to go to the circus, Pat?"
"Have you a family?"
"Will you do me a favor if I give you tickets to the show for
yourself and family?"
"That I will.  What show is yours?"
"The Sparling Combined Shows."
"That your car over there?"
"Yes--Car Three."
"You run it?"
"Pretty young fellow to handle a car like that, aren't you?"
"I guess you are right.  However, I am running it just the same."
"What is it you want me to do?"
"In the first place I want you to keep a close mouth.  I do not
want you to speak to a human being about my plans.  There are
some fellows that would like to know them.  They must not."
The foreman grinned understandingly.
"I'm your man."
"I knew you were.  You have a switch key of course?"
"Then I want you to bring your switch key here at half-past two
o'clock tomorrow morning.  You have crowbars in the tool house,
have you not?"
"Bring two of them with you."
"What are you going to do?"
"Never mind now.  I'll tell you when you come around in
the morning.  Do you think you can wake up in time?"
"Sure, I can."
"You may sleep on my car if you wish."
"No; I have a bunk in the tool house.  I will come back and sleep
there after supper."
"Excellent.  Do you want an alarm clock?"
"No; I have one in the shanty.  I often sleep there when I expect
a call to go out on the road during the night."
"I am right, am I not, in my understanding that unless I get
away on forty-two I shall not be able to leave here before
noon tomorrow?"
"That's right.  You are not going on forty-two, then?"
"I think not."
"The other fellows going on forty-two?"
"No; they will not be through billing here before
sometime tomorrow."
The foreman grinned.
"I smell a rat," he said.
"Don't.  It might not be healthful for you if you were to be
too wise.  Be on time and say nothing.  How far is it to the
"Nigh onto twenty-five miles."
"All right.  That's all.  I will have your tickets ready for you
when you come on in the morning.  Good night, if I don't see you
again until then."
All hands save Phil and Teddy went to bed early that night and
the car was soon dark and silent.  The late man from the country
route did not get in until half-past one o'clock in the morning.
He unloaded as quietly as possible, not knowing what plans of the
manager he might disturb were he to make his presence known.
By this time every man of the crew was well aware that their
young manager seldom was without some shrewd plan for outwitting
his competitors, but these plans he ordinarily kept well to
himself until he was ready to carry them out.
Phil busied himself during the night in posting his books, making
out the payroll for the car, and writing the report sheet for the
owner of the show.
Right on the minute at the appointed hour there came a light tap
on the car window.  Phil stepped out to the platform.
"I am ready, sir."  It was the section foreman.
"Come inside," said Phil.  "Do not make any noise, for the men
are all asleep.  I will awaken two of them soon, but I do not
want those other car men to get awake, not for any price."
"Now, what is it you want to do?"
"You are sure there will be no more trains over this road in
either direction tonight?" asked Phil.
"Not a train."
"That's good.  Now I will tell you what I want you to do.  I want
you to open that switch to let us out on the main track."
The foreman opened his eyes.
"But how are you going to get out there?"
"I'll show you after you get the switch open.  There is no
grade up or down between here and the other side of the station,
"No; dead flat till you get ten rods beyond the station, then
Phil nodded thoughtfully.
"Get the crowbars while I call a couple of the men."
The Circus Boy went inside and gently awakened Billy Conley and
Rosie, telling them to dress and report to the office at once.
The men made no protest.  They knew their young manager was
planning some new ruse by which to outwit his rivals.  When they
heard his plan they opened their eyes in wonder.
"Come on, now, and not a word nor a sound out of you, fellows!"
commanded Phil.
Once outside, Phil threw off the brakes and then the foreman of
the section gang brought his knowledge to bear on the situation.
He directed the men to get their crowbars under the rear wheels
of the coach.  After several attempts they succeeded in prying
the car ahead a few inches.  After repeated efforts they got the
car moving slowly.
Now the foreman took a third crowbar; jumping from one side to
the other he relieved the men until the car was making very fair
progress under its human power.
Teddy had been standing on the platform, rubbing his palms in
"Going to push her all the way to Marion like this?" he demanded.
"You keep still up there unless you are looking for trouble,"
warned Phil.  "Get off the platform.  Think we want to drag you
along, too?"
Teddy hopped down, thrust his hands in his trousers pockets, and
watched the operation of moving the heavy car.
It was slow work, but inch by inch Number Three crept nearer to
the station.
"Let me know when we get right on the grade, so I can slap on the
brakes," ordered Phil.
"I'll let you know.  You'll know without my telling you,
At last the car was at the desired point.  Phil sprang to the
platform and set the brakes, while the section man ran back and
closed the switch.
"Here are your tickets," said Phil when the man returned.
"And thank you very much."
"You're welcome, but don't you let on that I have helped you out.
I will sure lose my job if you do."
"You need not worry.  I do not forget a favor so easily as that."
"You better wait till daylight before you start," advised
the foreman.
"Yes, I am going to.  I do not want to take any more chances than
I have to.  There are enough as it is."
"Anything more I can do for you, sir?"
"No, thank you."
"Then, good night."
"Good night," answered Phil.
Teddy did not yet fully understand what his companion's plan
might be.  Billy, on the contrary, understood it fully.
"You beat anything I ever came across," Conley remarked in Phil's
car as the two were standing at the side of the track in front of
Number Three.
"Wait!  Don't throw any flowers at me too soon.  We have not done
it yet.  I understand there is a short up-grade about seven miles
below here.  If we get stalled on that we will be in a fine fix
and likely to get smashed into ourselves.  It looks to me like
a storm.  What do you think?"
"I think yes--thunderstorm.  I saw the lightning a moment ago."
"Good!  I hope it storms.  It will be a good cover to get
away under."
"Slippery rails will be bad for our business, though,"
warned Billy.
"We shall have to take the chance."
They had not long to wait after that.  Day soon dawned but the
skies were dark and forbidding.  As soon as it was light enough
to see well, Phil began to make preparations for his unique trip.
"Now what are you going to do?" demanded Teddy.
"My dear boy, we are going to try to coast all the way to Marion.
We may land in the ditch or we may get stalled, but I am not
going to lie here and waste nearly a day.  Let the other fellows
spend the time here if they wish.  I reckon they will be
surprised in the morning, when they wake up and find Car Three
has dropped off the map."
Teddy uttered a long whistle of surprise.
"Don't you ever find fault with me again for doing a trick like
"What trick was that?" questioned Billy.
"Never mind.  That's my secret.  It isn't any of your affair,"
grumbled Teddy.
"Teddy, you get on the back platform.  Keep your hand on the
brake wheel every second of the time.  Keep your ears open.
When I jerk once sharply on the bell rope set the brakes tight.
If I jerk it twice, just apply them a little to steady the car."
"Pull the bell rope?  Huh!  There isn't any bell."
"I know that, but you can hear the rope slap the top of the
platform roof when I pull it.  Now, get back there.  Don't call
out to me, but attend to your business.  I'll pull the cord when
I am ready for you to release the brake.  We must get away from
here in a hurry."
Teddy hopped from the platform and ran to the rear, where he
awaited the signal.
Phil's plan was a daring one.  For twenty-five miles the road
fell away at a sharp downgrade of sixty feet to the mile and in
some places even greater.  In one spot, as has already been
stated, there was a sharp up-grade for a short distance.
It was Phil's purpose to coast the twenty-five miles in order
to reach the next stand in time for the day's work.  It was a
risky undertaking.  Besides the danger of a possible collision
with an extra sent over the road, there was the added danger
of the car getting beyond their control and toppling over into
The Circus Boy had weighed all these chances well before starting
on his undertaking.
"I guess we will be moving now," he said, giving the bell cord a
pull, then throwing off the brake, Teddy performing the same
service at the other end of the car.
Car Number Three did not start at once.
Phil and Billy jumped up and down on the platform in excitement.
"She's moving," exulted Phil.  "We're off."
A faint "yee--ow!" from the rear platform was evidence that Teddy
Tucker also had discovered this fact.
"That boy!" grumbled Phil.
At first the show car moved slowly; then little by little it
began to gather headway.  Rattling over switches, past lines of
box cars, on past rows of houses that backed up against the
railroad's right of way, they rumbled.  A few moments later Car
Three shot out into the open country at a lively rate of speed.
ON A WILDCAT RUN
"This is great!" cried Billy.
Phil Forrest, however, was keeping his eyes steadily on
the shining rails ahead.  All at once the storm broke.
The lightning seemed to rend the heavens before them.
Then the rain came down in a deluge.
So heavy was the rainfall that the young pilot could see only
a few car lengths ahead of him.  Instinctively he tightened the
brakes slightly.  The car was swaying giddily, not having a
train with it to steady it.
"We ought to be near that grade the section man told us about,"
said Conley.
"Yes; I was just thinking of that.  I guess I had better let her
out, so we shall be sure to make it."
Phil threw off the brake wheel and Car Three shot ahead like a
great projectile, rocking from side to side, moving at such high
speed that the joints in the rails gave off a steady purring
sound under the wheels.
The wildcat car struck the grade with a lurch and a bang,
climbing it at a tremendous pace.
The two men on the front platform were compelled to hold on with
their full strength, in order to keep from being hurled into the
ditch beside the track.
"I hope Teddy is all right," shouted Phil.
Billy leaned out over the side looking back.  Teddy, who was also
leaning out, peering ahead regardless of the driving rain, waved
a hand at him.
"Yes; you can't hurt _that_ boy--"
Just then the car plunged over the crest of the hill and went
thundering away down the steep grade.
By this time the men in the car had, one by one, been
shaken awake by the car's terrific pace, and one by one
they tumbled from their berths, quickly raising the
curtains for a look outside.
What they saw was a driving storm and the landscape slipping past
them at a higher speed than they ever had known before.  Three of
the men bolted to the front platform.
"What's the matter?  Are we running away?" shouted a voice in
"Go back, fellows, and shut the door.  Don't bother me.
I'm making the next town."
The men retired to the car, sat down and looked at each other in
blank amazement.
"Well, did you ever?" gasped Rosie.
"Never," answered the Missing Link, shaking his head helplessly.
"He'll be the death of us yet."
"At least we'll be going some if we stay on this car."
"We _are_ going some.  We've been going some ever since the new
Boss took hold of this car.  I hope we don't hit anything.
It'll be a year of Sundays for us, if we do."
"A good many years of 'em," muttered Rosie.
"I hear a train whistle!" shouted Billy, leaning toward Phil.
"I heard it," answered the boy calmly, beginning to tug at the
brake wheel.
"Want any help?" asked Conley anxiously.
"No; you can't help me any." Phil had ceased twisting the wheel.
"What's the matter?"
"The wheels are slipping.  The brakes will not hold them.  If we
are going to meet anything we might as well meet it properly,"
answered Phil calmly, whereupon he kicked the ratchet loose and
spun the brake wheel about.
The car seemed to take a sudden leap forward.
Just then there came a rift in the clouds.
"Look!" cried Billy.
Phil leaned over the rail, peering into the mist.
The track, just a little way ahead of them, took a sudden
bend around a high point of land.  And on beyond the hill
they saw the smoke of an engine belching up into the air
like so many explosions.
"I guess that settles it," said the boy.  His face was, perhaps,
a little more pale than usual, but in no other way did he show
any emotion.
"Shall we tell the men to jump, then go over ourselves?"
"No; we should all be killed.  We will stay and see it through.
The men are better off inside the car."
A yell from Teddy, sounding faint and far away, caused Billy to
lean out and look back.
"Turn on your sand!  Turn on your sand!  She's slipping!"
howled Teddy.
"We haven't any sand.  D'you think this is a trolley car?"
Just then Teddy caught sight of the smoke ahead of them.
He pointed.  His voice seemed to fail him all at once.
"It looks as if we would get all the publicity we want in about
a minute, Billy," said Phil, smiling easily.  "We shall not be
likely to know anything about it, though," he added.
Car Three swept around the bend.
"There they are!" cried Conley.
"Coming head on!" commented Phil.  He seemed not in the least
disturbed, despite the fact that he believed himself to be facing
certain death.
Billy let out a yell of joy.
"They are on another track.  They are not on these irons at all!"
Phil had observed this at about the same instant.  He saw
something else, too.  The road on which the train was approaching
crossed his track at right angles.  The other was a double track
railroad, and the train was a fast express train, tearing along
at high speed.
"We're safe!" breathed Billy, heaving a great sigh of relief.
"No, we are not.  We are going to smash right into them,
_broadside,_ unless we can check our car enough to clear them."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
Billy groaned.  His joy had been short-lived.
"Give Teddy the signal to put on the brakes.  We will make
another attempt to check her."
Phil threw himself into the task of turning the wheel, which he
did in quick, short, spasmodic jerks, rather than by a steady
application of the brakes.
The car slackened somewhat--hardly enough to be noticed.
"Tell Teddy to keep it up.  You had better send one of the men
back to help him."
Billy bellowed his command to the men inside.
"They see us.  They are whistling to us."
Shriek after shriek rang out from the whistle of the approaching
express train, the engineer of which jerked his throttle wide
open in hopes of clearing the oncoming wildcat car.
Phil was still tugging desperately, but without any apparent
nervousness, at the brake wheel.  He finally ceased his efforts.
"I can't do any more," he said; then calmly leaned his arms on
the wheel awaiting results.
Billy did not utter a word.  He, too, possessed strong nerves.
The man and the boy stood there calmly watching the train ahead
of them.  Nearer and nearer to it did they draw.  They could see
the engineer and fireman leaning from their cab, looking back.
Phil waved a hand to them, to which the engine crew responded
"Now for the smash, Billy, old boy!" muttered Phil with the smile
that no peril seemed able to banish from his face.
"Yes; it's going to be a close shave."
The last car of the express train was now abreast of them.
They seemed to be right upon it.  So close were they that Phil
thought he could stretch out a hand and touch it.
Suddenly it was whisked from before them as if by magic.
The engineer had given his engine its final burst of speed.
"Hang on tight!" shouted Phil.  "We're going to sideswipe
"Off brakes!"
Billy gave the bell rope a tug.
Then came a crash, a grinding, jolting sound.  It seemed as if
the red car were being torn from end to end.  Car Three careened,
rocked and swayed, threatening every second to plunge from the
rails over the embankment at that point.
As suddenly as it had come, the strain seemed to have been
removed from it.  Once more Number Three was thundering along
over the rails.
"Yee--ow!" howled Teddy from the rear platform.
The men inside the car were not saying anything.  They were
slowly picking themselves up from the floor, where they had been
hurled by the sudden shock.  The interior of the car looked as if
it had been struck by a tornado.  The contents were piled in a
confused heap at one end of the car, paste pots overturned,
bedding stripped clean from the berths, lamps smashed, and great
piles of paper scattered all over the place.
"Hooray!" yelled Billy in the excess of his joy.  "We're saved."
"Yes," answered Phil with a grin.  "It was a close call, though.
I hope no one in the car is hurt.  You had better go in and
find out.  I am afraid our car has been damaged."
Billy leaned over the side, looking back.
"Yes, we got a beauty of a sideswipe," he said.
The coupling and rear platform of the rear car on the express
train had cut a deep gash in the side of Car Three, along half of
"Any windows left?"
"I don't see anything that looks like glass left in them,"
laughed Conley.
"You watch the wheel a minute.  I will go inside," said Phil.
He hurried into the car.
Phil could not repress a laugh at the scene that met his gaze.
"Hello, boys; what's going on in here?" called Phil.
"Say, Boss," spoke up Rosie the Pig.  "If it's all the same to
you, I think I'll get out and walk the rest of the way."
"Are we on time?" howled Teddy, poking his head in at the
"Better straighten the car out, for we should reach our town
in a few minutes now--"
"I should say we would, at this gait," interrupted a voice.
"Then all hands will have to hustle out to work.  I want to
be out of the next stand sometime tonight.  We go out on
another road, so we shall not have to wait, unless something
unforeseen occurs.  Came pretty near having a smash-up,
didn't we?" suggested Phil.
"Near?"  The Missing Link's emotion was too great to permit him
to finish the sentence.
The car bowled merrily along.  In a short time the two men on the
front platform were able to make out the outlines of the town
ahead of them.  The skies were clearing now, and shortly
afterwards the sun burst through the clouds.
"All is sunshine," laughed Phil.  "For a time it looked as if
there would be a total eclipse," he added, grimly.
Billy gazed at him wonderingly.
"If I had your nerve I'd be a millionaire," said Billy in a
"You probably would break your neck the first thing you did,"
answered Phil with a short laugh.
They were now moving along on a level stretch of track.  Phil set
the brakes a little, and the car slowed down.  In this way they
glided easily into the station, where the Circus Boy brought the
car to a stop directly in front of the telegraph office.
The station agent came out to see what it was that had come in
so unexpectedly.
His amazement was great.
"Well, we are here," called Phil, stepping down from
the platform.  "I guess we are on time."
"Any orders?" shouted Teddy Tucker, dropping from the
rear platform.
"Where--where did you fellows come from?"
"Where's your engine?"
"I'm the engine," spoke up Teddy.  "Wasn't I behind, pushing Car
Three all the way over?"
All hands set up a shout of laughter.
IN A PERILOUS POSITION
The story of Phil Forrest's brilliant and perilous dash quickly
spread about the town.  By six o'clock a great crowd had gathered
about the station to get a look at the car and at the Circus Boy
who had piloted her.
Phil was hustling about in search of an engine crew from the
other road.  He wanted his car moved from the main track,
before some other train should come along and run into him,
thus completing the wrecking that he already had so
successfully begun.
In the meantime Teddy placed himself on view, parading up and
down, looking wise and pompous.  He always was willing to
be admired.  As soon as the newspaper offices were open he made
haste to visit them, and the afternoon papers printed the story
of Car Three's great wildcat dash, displaying the account under
big, black headlines.  The Sparling Shows got a full measure of
publicity that day.
Teddy marked and wrapped copies of the papers containing the
notice, mailing them back to the show for Mr. Sparling to read.
On the margin of one of the papers so sent, Teddy wrote with a
lead pencil, "no news today."
What the Circus Boy's idea of news really was it would be
difficult to say.
Car Three had a fair field for most of the day.  By the time the
rivals got in there were few choice locations for billing left in
The manager of the yellow car tried to induce the railroad
authorities to proceed against Phil for the boy's action in
taking his car over the division without authority.  The road,
however, refused to accede to the demand, and nothing ever was
done about it.  Perhaps Mr. Sparling had something to do with
this, for telegrams were exchanged that day between the owner of
the show and the division superintendent.  In the meantime Phil
did not trouble himself over the matter.  He had too many other
things to think of.
The next stand was to be in Oklahoma.  Phil hoped that, by the
time they reached there, they would be far enough ahead of the
rival cars to shake them off entirely.
That afternoon he and Teddy went over town to look over the work.
One of the first things to attract Phil's attention was a flag
pole towering high above everything else in the city.
"Wouldn't I like to unfurl a Sparling banner from the top of that
pole," exclaimed Phil, gazing up at the top.  "How high is that
pole?" he asked of a man standing near him.
"One hundred feet."
Teddy whistled softly.
"I wonder if I could get the consent of the town authorities to
run some advertising matter up there?"
"Couldn't do it, even if you got the permission," answered
"There is no rope on the pole.  It rotted off a year ago."
"That is too bad.  I had already set my heart on billing
the pole.  It can be seen from all parts of the city, can
"Yes, and a long way out of the city at that."
"Come on, Teddy; let's not look at it.  It makes me feel sad to
think I cannot possess that pole."
"I wonder if you will ever be satisfied?" grumbled Teddy.
"Not as long as there is a spot on earth large enough for a
Sparling one-sheet left uncovered."
"What will you give--what would you give, I mean, to have some
banners put on top of the flag pole?"
"I would give fifty dollars and think I had got off
very cheaply."
Teddy waxed thoughtful.  Several times, that afternoon,
he wandered over to the vicinity of the tall flag pole,
and, leaning against a building, surveyed it critically.
After the fifth trip of this sort, the Circus Boy hurried back
to the car.  No one was on board save the porter.  Teddy began
rummaging about among the cloth banners, littering the floor
with all sorts of rubbish in his feverish efforts to get what
After considerable trouble he succeeded in laying out a gaudy
assortment of banners.  These he carefully stitched together
until he had a completed flag or banner about fifty feet long.
"See here, Henry, don't you tell anybody what I have been doing,
for you don't know."
"No, sir," agreed the porter.
Next Teddy provided himself with a light, strong rope.  All his
preparations completed, he once more strolled over town, where
he joined Phil in watching the work.  But he confided to his
companion nothing of what he had been doing.  Teddy Tucker's
face wore its usual innocent expression.
That night, after supper, he called Billy Conley aside and
confided to the assistant car manager what he had in mind.
"_Forget_ it!" advised Billy with emphasis.
"I can't.  I want to earn that fifty dollars."
"But if you break your neck what good will the fifty do you?"
"If I don't it will do me fifty dollars' worth of good," was the
quick reply.
"How do you expect to do it?"
"I'll show you tonight.  But we shall have to wait till most of
the people are off the streets.  You get away about ten o'clock,
and don't let either Phil or any of the crew know where you
are going.  I will meet you on the other side of the station at
ten o'clock sharp, provided I can get away from Phil."
"I don't like it, but I guess I am just enough of a good fellow
to be willing to help you break your neck.  Have you any family
that you wish me to notify?"
"No one, unless it is January."
"My educated donkey."
"Oh, pshaw!" grumbled Billy.
At the appointed time Teddy made his exit from the car without
attracting the attention of any of the crew.  Phil was busy over
his books, while the men were sitting on piles of paper, relating
their experiences on the road.
Earlier in the evening Teddy had secreted his banners in what is
known as the cellar, the large boxlike compartment under the car
He now hastily gathered up his equipment and hurried to the
station platform.  Billy was already awaiting him there.
"You better give up this fool idea," warned Billy.  "I don't want
anything to do with it.  You can go alone if you want to, but
none of it for mine."
"If you back down now, do you know what I'll do?"
"What will you do?"
"I'll give you the worst walloping you ever had in your life."
"You can't do it."
Teddy whipped off his coat.
"Come on; I'll show you."
Conley burst out laughing.
"The Boss says you are a hopeless case.  I agree with him.
Come on.  I'll help you to break your neck."
They started off together.  When they reached the pole, the pair
dodged into a convenient doorway where they waited to make sure
that they were not observed.
"I guess it is all right," said Teddy.
"How you going to get up there?"
"I brought a pair of climbers that I found in the car yesterday--
the kind those telephone linemen use to climb telephone
poles with.  Won't I go up, I guess _yes!_"
Teddy first strapped the banners over his shoulders, in such a
way that they would not impede his progress; then he put on the
climbers, Billy watching disapprovingly.
All was ready.  With a final glance up and down the street Teddy
strode from his hiding place.
He walked up the pole as if he were used to it.  In a few
minutes the watcher below could barely make him out in the
faint moonlight.
"Look out, when you get up higher.  The pole may be rotten,"
called Billy softly.
"All right.  I'm up to the splice."
Here Teddy paused to rest, being now about halfway up the pole.
Before going higher the Circus Boy prudently wrapped the small
rope that he carried twice around the pole, forming a slip-noose.
He made the free end fast around his body in case he should lose
his footing.
This done, Teddy felt secure from a fall.
He worked his way slowly upward, creeping higher and higher, inch
by inch, cautious but not in the least afraid, for Teddy was used
to being high in the air.
Now and then he would pause to call down to the anxious Billy.
"Stand under to be ready to catch me if I fall," directed Tucker.
"Not much.  You hit ground if you fall," jeered Conley.
Teddy's laugh floated down to him, carefree and happy.
The Circus Boy was in his element.
Finally he managed to reach the top, or nearly to the top
of the pole without mishap.  The slender top of the flag
pole swayed back and forth, like the mast of a ship in a
rolling sea.  It seemed to Teddy as if each roll would be
He felt a slight dizziness, but it passed off quickly.  In fact,
he was too busy to give much heed to it.  With nimble fingers he
unpacked his roll of banners; and, in a few minutes, he was
securing the long streamer to the pole, which he did by lacing it
to the pole with leather thongs, through eyelets that he had
sewed in the cloth.
In a few minutes the great banner fluttered to the breeze.
"Hurrah!" cried Teddy exultingly.  "We're off!"
As he called out Teddy suddenly felt his footing give way
beneath him.  He had thrown too much weight on the climbers,
and they had lost their grip.
CHAPTER XXII
A DASH FOR LIBERTY
"What is it?" cried Billy in alarm.  "I'm hung up--hung down,
"What--what's the matter, are you in trouble?"
"Yes, I'm hanging head down.  I'm fast by the feet.
Help me down!"
"Help you down?  I can't help you.  You will have to get out the
best way you can.  Can't you crawl up and free your feet?"
"No; go get Phil."
"Can you hold on?"
"I--I'll try.  Go get Phil."
Conley dashed away as fast as he could run.
"I knew it, I knew it," he repeated at almost every bound.
Teddy's climbers had lost their grip in the rotting wood.
Before he could recover himself he had tumbled backward.
Fortunately the rope had clung to the pole; he was held fast
but Teddy was hanging with his back against the pole, being
powerless to help himself in the slightest degree.  Again, he
was afraid that, were he to stir about, the rope, which had
slipped down and drawn tight about his ankles, might suddenly
slide down the pole and dash him to his death.
Not many minutes had elapsed before Phil and Conley came
running back.  Phil, at the suggestion of the assistant
manager, had brought a pair of climbers with him, Billy
explaining, as they ran, the fix that the Circus Boy was in.
For a wonder, all the disturbance had attracted no attention on
"Are you all right?" called Phil as he ran to the spot.
"N--no; I'm all wrong," came the answer from above.  "All the
blood in my body is in my head.  I'm going to burst in a minute."
Phil wasted no words.  Quickly strapping on his climbers, he
began shinning up the pole, which he took much faster than Teddy
had done, for the situation was critical.
"Hurry up!  Think I want to stay here all night?"
"I'm coming.  Hang on a few moments longer," panted Phil, for the
exertion was starting the perspiration all over his body.
At last he reached the spot where Teddy was hanging head down.
"Well, you have got yourself into a nice fix!" growled Phil.
"I got the banners up," retorted Teddy.
Phil cast his eyes aloft, and there, above his head, floated the
gaudy banners of the Sparling Show.
"Great!" he muttered.  "But you are lucky if it doesn't cost you
your life and perhaps mine, too.  Now, when I place this rope in
your hands, you hang on to it for all you are worth.  I will make
it fast above, and I think I shall have to cut the rope that
holds your feet.  I see no other way to get you down."
"What, and let me drop?  No, you don't."
"I shall not let you drop if I can help it.  Can't you manage to
get a grip on the pole with your arms?"
"If I were facing the other way, I might."
"Twist yourself.  Aren't you enough of a circus man to do a
contortion act as simple as that?"
Teddy thought he was.  At least, he was willing to try, and he
succeeded very well, throwing a firm grip about the pole.
Phil cautiously climbed above his companion.  None save a trained
aerial worker could have accomplished such a feat, but the Circus
Boy managed it without mishap.  He then made fast a rope about
the pole above the place where Teddy's rope was secured, drawing
it tight above a slight projection on the pole itself, where part
of a knot had been left.
Phil had not secured himself as Teddy had done, but he felt
no fear of falling as long as he had one arm about the pole.
He might slip, but even then the principal danger to be
apprehended was that he might carry Teddy down with him.
"Pass the rope about your body," directed Phil.
"Which rope?"
"My rope--_this_ rope," answered Phil, raising and lowering the
rope that Teddy might make no mistake.  "If you get the wrong one
you will take a fine tumble.  Got it?"
"All right.  When you have secured it about your body let
"I've got it."
"Have you also got a firm grip on the pole?"
"Then look out.  I am going to cut your feet loose.
Are you ready?"
"All ready!"
Phil severed the rope that held Teddy's feet, and the boy did
a half turn in the air, his feet suddenly flopping over until
he found himself in an upright position.  But the twist of the
body had given him a fearful wrench, drawing a loud "ouch!"
from Teddy.  To add to his troubles Tucker found himself unable
"I'm tied up in a hard knot," he wailed.
"What's the trouble?"
"I'm all twisted.  I can't wiggle a toe."
"Well, you don't have to wiggle your toes, do you?"
Phil found the work of extricating his companion a more difficult
matter than he had expected, and to set Teddy free it was
necessary to cut the rope again.
This time the cutting was followed instantly by a wild yell.
Teddy shot down to the splice in the pole, where he struck the
crosspiece with a jolt that shook the pole from top to bottom;
but, fortunately, his arms were about the pole and the crosspiece
had kept him from plunging to the ground many feet below.
"Are you all right?" called Phil.
"No; I'm killed."
"Lucky you didn't break the pole, at any rate."
"Break the pole?  Break the pole?" yelled Teddy, half
in anger, half in pain.  "What do I care about the pole?
I've broken myself.  I won't be able to sit down again
this season.  Oh, why did I ever come with this outfit?"
"Hurry and get down.  We shall have the whole town awake
if you keep up that racket."
Phil let himself down to where Teddy sat rubbing himself
and growling.
"Go on down.  You are not hurt," commanded Phil.
"I am, I tell you."
"Well, are you going to stay up here all night?"
Teddy pulled himself together, preparing for the descent.
"Can you get down alone?  If not I will tie a rope to you to
protect you."
"No; you keep away from me.  I'll get down if you let me alone."
"Teddy Tucker, you are an ungrateful boy."
"I'm a sore boy; that's what I am.  Don't speak to me till
I get down again.  Then I'll talk with you and I'll have
something to say, too.  I want that fifty dollars for
putting the banner up, too."
"Well, wait till you get down, anyhow," retorted
Phil impatiently.
Teddy made his way down, muttering and growling every foot of the
way, followed by Phil at a safe distance, the latter chuckling
and laughing at Teddy's rage.
Young Tucker had nearly reached the base of the pole, when once
more he missed his footing.
Billy Conley was just below him, ready to assist, when Teddy
landed on him, both going down together.
Teddy uttered a yell that could have been heard more than a
As the two struggled to get up, both Teddy and Billy
threatening each other, rapid footsteps were heard approaching
them down the street.  In a moment they saw the flash of a
policeman's shield.
"We're caught!" cried Conley.  "Run for it!"
"Halt!" commanded the officer.  He was almost upon them now.
Phil was still up the pole, where he clung, awaiting the result
of the surprise below.
"What does this mean?" demanded the bluecoat.
"It means you are it!" howled Teddy, bolting between the
officer's legs, causing the bluecoat to fall flat upon
"Run!  Run!" howled Teddy.
Phil sprang from the pole and all hands made a lively sprint for
CHAPTER XXIII
THE DESERTED VILLAGE
But Teddy had distinguished himself.  When the town awakened
next morning there were loud clamorings for the arrest of the
showman who had dared to unfurl a circus advertisement from the
top of the city's flag pole.  The showmen guilty of the deed
were many, many miles away by that time, engaged in other
similar occupations.
At McAlister, a booming western town, the opposition were still
hard on the heels of Car Three.  Try as he would Phil Forrest was
able to shake them off no longer than a few hours at a time.
A new plan occurred to him, and immediately upon his arrival at
McAlister he wired Mr. Sparling to send a brigade into the next
town ahead, to bill the place, in order that Car Three might make
a jump and get away from its rivals.
A brigade, it should be known, is a crew of men that does not
travel on a special car.  They go by regular train, traveling as
other passengers do, dropping off and billing a town here and
there, as directed by wire.
The answer came back that the brigade would relieve him at the
While this had been going on young Tucker had been listening to a
most interesting tale of a deserted town some twenty miles beyond
where they were then working.  The deserted town was known as
Owls' Valley.  It had been a prosperous little city up to within
two months previous, when, for reasons that Teddy did not learn,
the inhabitants had taken a sudden leave.
This information set Teddy Tucker to thinking.
A deserted village?  He wished that he might see it.
He had heard of deserted villages, and this one was of
more than ordinary interest, because, the moment he
heard of it, a plan presented itself to his fertile mind.
"I'll bet they will not only nibble at the bait, but will swallow
it whole," he decided exultingly after he had thoroughly gone
over the plan, sitting off by himself on a pile of railroad iron.
"I'll take Billy into my confidence.  Billy will spread the word,
and then we shall see what will happen."
When Billy came in Teddy called him aside and outlined his plan.
Billy returned from the conference grinning broadly, but Teddy
was serious and thoughtful.
However, he decided not to tell Phil what he had done.
Perhaps Phil might not approve of it.  Phil was so peculiar
that he might visit the rival cars and tell them that
certain information they had obtained was not correct.
Be that as it may, a few hours later three car managers visited
the station, leaving orders that their cars were to be switched
off at Owls' Valley.
"That fellow, Forrest, thought he would play a smart trick on us
and slip into a town not down on his route, where he was going to
have all the billing to himself," said the manager of the yellow
car, late that evening.
"Where is Owls' Valley?" asked one of his men.
"About twenty miles west of here.  It will be a short run.
He will be a very much surprised young man when he wakes up
in the morning and finds us lying on the siding with him."
The train to which the cars were to be attached was not to leave
until sometime after midnight.  When it finally came in all the
advertising car crews were in bed and asleep.  Teddy Tucker,
however, was not only wide awake, but outside at that.
"Couple us up next to your rear car, and put the other fellows on
the rear if you will," he said to the conductor.  "They are going
to Owls' Valley, but we are going through.  Please say nothing to
them about what I have told you.  Here's a pass for
the circus."
The rest was easy.  Soon the train was rumbling away, with Teddy
the happiest mortal on it.  But he did not go to bed.  Not Teddy!
He sat up to make sure that his plans did not miscarry.
Owls' Valley was reached in due time, and the Circus Boy was
outside to make sure that no mistake was made.  He did not
propose that Car Three should, by any slip, be sidetracked
at the deserted village.
Very shortly afterwards they were again on their way, and Teddy
went to bed well satisfied with his night's work.  When the men
woke up early next morning a new train crew was in charge, for
the advertising car was making a long run.
Phil was the first to awaken.  As was customary with him he
stepped to the window and peered out.
"Why, we seem to be the last car on the train.  There were
three opposition cars behind us when we started out last night.
I wonder what that means?"
Quickly dressing, he went out on the platform.  Leaning over he
looked ahead.  Car Three was the only show car on the train.
"That is queer.  I do not understand it at all."
Hurrying in to the main part of the car Phil called to the men.
"Do any of you know what has become of the opposition?" he asked.
"Why, aren't they on behind?"
"No one is on behind.  We are the last car.  Those fellows have
stolen a march on us somewhere.  I can't imagine where they
dropped off, though; can you?"
"Maybe they have switched off on another road," suggested
"No other road they could switch off on.  There is something
more to this than appears on the surface.  I'll go forward and
ask the conductor."
Phil did so, but the conductor could give him no information.
Car Three was the only show car on the train when the present
conductor had taken charge.
Phil was more puzzled than ever.  He consulted his route list, to
make sure that he himself had not made a mistake and skipped a
town that he should have billed.  No; there was only one town he
had missed, and that was the one the brigade was to work.
About this time Teddy sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"What's up?" he inquired, noting that his companion was troubled.
"That is what I should like to know," answered Phil absently.
"Tell me about it.  Anything gone wrong?"
"I don't know.  The opposition has disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
"Yes; they disappeared during the night, and I cannot imagine
where they have gone.  They must have dropped in on some town
that we should have made, and I am worried."
Teddy pulled up a window shade and studied the landscape for
several minutes.
"Curious, isn't it?" he mumbled.
"I might make a guess where they went, Phil."
"You might guess?"
"That's what I said."
"Where do you think they have gone?"
"If I were to make a long-range guess, I should say that perhaps
the cars of the opposition were sidetracked at Owls' Valley."
"Where is that?  I never heard of the place."
"That, my dear sir, is the deserted village.  Lonesome Town, they
ought to call it."
"Where is it?"
"About twenty miles from the last stand; and, if they are there,
they will be likely to stay there for sometime to come."
Phil had wheeled about, studying his companion keenly.
"You seem to know a great deal about the movements of the enemy.
How does it happen that you are so well posted, Teddy Tucker?"
"I was hanging around the station when they gave the order to
have their cars dropped off there," answered Teddy, avoiding the
keen gaze of his companion and superior.
"Did you know the place was deserted?"
Teddy nodded.
"Did _they?_"
Teddy shook his head.
"How did they happen to order their cars dropped off there?"
"I--I guess somebody must have told them that--I guess maybe they
thought we were going there."
"Thought we were going there?"
"Oh, because."
A light was beginning to dawn upon the young car manager.
He surveyed Teddy from beneath half closed eyelids.
Tucker grew restless under the critical examination.
"Say, stop your looking at me that way."
"You make me nervous.  Stop it, I say!"
"Tell me all about it, Teddy," urged Phil, trying hard to make
his tone stern.
"Tell you about what?"
"Why the opposition happened to think we were going to
Owls' Valley."
"Maybe they just imagined it."
"And maybe they did not.  You are mixed up in this, in some way,
and I want to know all about it, Teddy Tucker.  I hope you have
done nothing dishonorable.  Of course I am glad the other fellows
are out of our way, but I want to know how.  Come, be frank
with me.  You are avoiding the question.  Remember I am the
manager of this car; I am responsible for all that is done on it.
Out with it!"
Teddy fidgeted.
"Well, it was this way.  Somebody told them--"
"Well, told them what?" urged Phil.
"Told them they heard we were going to bill Owls' Valley."
"So, that's it, eh?"
Teddy nodded again.
"Did you give out any such information as that?"
Teddy shook his head.
"I won't tell.  You can't make me tell," retorted the
Circus Boy belligerently.
"But you were responsible for the rumor getting out?"
Teddy did not answer.
"And those poor fellows are lying there on the siding,
twenty miles from the nearest telegraph office?"
"I guess so." Tucker grinned broadly.
"And how are they going to get out?"
Phil broke out into a roar of laughter.
"Oh, Teddy, what am I going to do with you?  Do you know you have
done very wrong?"
"No, I don't.  The trouble with you is that you don't appreciate
a good thing when you get it.  You were wishing you could get rid
of the opposition cars, weren't you?"
"Yes, but--"
"Well, you're rid of them, aren't you?"
"Yes, but--"
"And I got rid of them for you."
"Yes, but as I was saying--"
"Then what have you got to raise such a row about?  You got
Teddy curled up and began studying the landscape again.
"I admire your zeal young man, but your methods are open to
severe criticism.  First you imperil the lives of three carloads
of men by cutting them loose from the train; then you climb a
flag pole, nearly losing your own life in the attempt, and now
you have lured three carloads of men to a deserted village, where
you have lost them.  Oh, I've got to laugh--I can't help it!"
And Phil did laugh, disturbed as he was over Teddy Tucker's
repeated violation of what Phil believed to be the right and
honorable way of doing business.
"Billy!" called Phil.
Mr. Conley responded promptly.
"I am not asking any questions.  I do not want to know any more
than I do about this business.  I already know more than I wish
I knew.  I want to say, however, that when any more plans are
made, any schemes hatched for outwitting our rivals, I shall
appreciate being made acquainted with such plans before they
are put into practice."
Teddy looked up in amazement.  He had not the remotest idea that
Phil even suspected who had been his accomplice.  But the car
manager had no need to be told.  He was too shrewd not to suspect
at once who it was that had carried out Teddy's suggestions and
sidetracked the opposition where they would not get out for at
least a whole day.
"Yes, sir," answered Billy meekly.
"I understand that the opposition are where they are likely to
stay for sometime to come?"
"Yes, sir; so I understand."
"Oh, you do, eh?"
"You know all about it?  Well, I thought as much.  But I am
sorry you have admitted it.  That necessitates my reading you
a severe lecture."
This Phil did, laying down the law as Conley never had supposed
the Circus Boy could do.  Billy repeated the lecture to the
rest of the crew, later on, and all agreed that Phil Forrest,
the young advance agent, had left nothing unsaid.  Phil's stock
rose correspondingly.  A man who could "call down" his crew
properly was a real car manager.
While the Sparling Show profited by Teddy's ruse, Phil felt
unhappy that his advantage had come by reason of the falsehood
that Teddy had told; and that night Phil read his young friend
a severe lecture.
"If I find you doing a trick like that again," concluded Phil,
"you close there and then."
CHAPTER XXIV
"Who is the man in charge of Sparling Advance Car Number Three?"
demanded Mr. Starr, manager of "The Greatest Show on Earth."
"A young fellow named Forrest.  That is all I know about him,"
answered the treasurer of the show.
"He used to be a performer and a good one, too," spoke up the
assistant manager.
This conversation took place in the office tent of the show that
Phil Forrest had been fighting almost ever since he took charge
of Car Three.
"He is one of the best bareback riders who ever entered the
forty-two foot ring," continued the assistant manager.
"What has he ever done before?  I never heard of him."
"He has been with Sparling, I think, about five years.
I understand he never did any circus work before that."
"I want that young man," announced the general
manager decisively.
"Probably money will get him," smiled the treasurer.
"I do not wish to do anything to offend Sparling, for he is
an old friend, and one of the best showmen in the country.
I'll write him today, and see what he has to say.  That young
man, Forrest, or whatever his name may be, is giving us more
trouble than we ever had before.  He is practically putting our
men all out of business.  We shall have to change our route, or
close, if he keeps on heading off our advance cars."
"It has come to a pretty pass, if a green boy with no previous
experience is to defeat us.  What is the matter with our advance
men?" demanded the assistant manager.
"That is what I should like to know," answered Mr. Starr.
"I will write Sparling today about this matter."
Weeks had passed and Car Three had worked its way across the
plains, on into the mountainous country.  Car managers had again
been changed on the yellow car; another car had been sent in
ahead of Phil, but to no better purpose than before.
Car Three moved on, making one brilliant dash after another,
sometimes winning out by the narrowest margin and apparently by
pure luck.  Still, Phil Forrest and his loyal crew were never
caught napping and were never headed off for more than a day at
The season was drawing to a close.  One day Phil received a wire
from Mr. Sparling reading:
"Close at Deming, New Mexico, September fifteen."
"Boys, the end is in sight; and I, for one, shall be glad when we
are through," announced Phil, appearing in the men's part of the
car, where he read the telegram from the owner of the show.
The men set up a cheer.
"Now let's drive the other fellows off the map during these
remaining two weeks."
How those men did work!  No man on that car overslept during the
rest of the trip.  Phil seemed not to know the meaning of the
word "tired." All hours of the night found him on duty, either
watching the movements of his car or laying out work ahead,
planning and scheming to outwit his rivals.
At last Car Three rolled into the station at Deming.  It was a
warm, balmy Fall day.
"Now burn the town up with your paper, boys," commanded Phil,
after they had finished their breakfast.  "Come in early tonight.
I want all hands to drop paste pots and brushes tonight, and take
dinner with me.  It will not be at a contract hotel, either.
Dinner at eight o'clock."
"Hooray!" exclaimed Teddy.  "A real feed for once, fellows!
No more meals at The Sign of the Tin Spoon this season!"
The crew of Car Three were not slow about getting in that night.
Every man was on time.  They dodged out of the car with bundles
under their arms, got a refreshing bath, and spick and span in
tailor-made clothes and clean linen, they presented themselves
at the car just before eight o'clock.
"Hello!  You boys do not look natural," hailed Phil, with
a laugh.  "But come along; I know you are hungry, and so
The Circus Boy had arranged for a fine dinner at the leading
hotel of the city, where he had engaged a private dining room
for the evening.
It was a jolly meal.  Everyone was happy in the consciousness of
work well done, in the knowledge that they had outrivaled every
opposition car that had been sent into their field.
The dinner was nearing its close when Phil rose and rapped
"Boys," he said, "you have done great work.  You have been loyal,
and without your help I should have made a miserable failure of
this work.  You know how green I was, how little I really know
about the advance work yet--"
Someone laughed.
"You need not laugh.  I know it, whether you boys do or not.
I asked you to dine with Teddy and myself here tonight, that
I might tell you these things and thank you.  If ever I am
sent in advance again I hope you boys will be with me, every
one of you."
"You bet we will!" shouted the men in chorus.
"And let me add that Mr. Sparling is not ungrateful for the work
you have done this season.  He has asked me to present you with a
small expression of his appreciation.  Teddy, will you please
pass these envelopes to the boys?  You will find their names
written on the envelopes."
Tucker quickly distributed the little brown envelopes.
The men shouted.  Each envelope held a crisp, new
fifty-dollar bill.
"Three cheers for Boss Sparling!" cried Rosie the Pig, springing
to his feet, waving the bill above his head.
The cheers were given with a will.
"I will bid you good-bye tonight," continued Phil.  "Teddy and
myself will take a late train for the East, after we get through.
We are going back to join the show until it closes--"
"Wait a minute, Boss," interrupted Billy Conley, rising.
"This show isn't over yet."
"The Band Concert in the main tent is about to begin."
Phil glanced at him inquiringly.
"All the natural curiosities, including the Missing Link and the
Human Pig, will be on view.  Take your seats in the center ring,
immediately after the performance closes!"
Billy drew a package from his pocket and placed it on the table
"Boss, the fellows have asked me to present to you a little
expression of their good will--to the greatest advance agent that
ever hit the iron trail.  You've made us work like all possessed,
but we love you almost to death, just the same.  I present this
gift to you with our compliments, Boss, and here also is a little
remembrance for our friend, Spotted Horse, otherwise known as
Teddy Tucker."
Billy sat down, and Phil, rising, accepted the gift.  Opening the
package he found a handsome gold watch and chain, his initials
set in the back of the watch case in diamonds.
"Oh, boys, why did you do it?" gasped Phil, in an unsteady voice.
"I've got a diamond stick pin!" shouted Teddy triumphantly.
Phil's eyes were moist.
"Why--why did you--"
" 'Cause--'cause you're the best fellow that ever lived!
Say, quit lookin' at me like that, or I'll blubber right
out," stammered Billy, hastily pushing back his chair and
walking over to the window.
"For he's a jolly good fellow!" struck up Rosie the Pig.
All joined in the chorus, while Phil sat down helplessly,
unable to say a word.
On the second morning thereafter the Circus Boys rejoined the
Great Sparling Shows, where they were welcomed right royally.
Teddy insisted in going on with his mule act that same day.
Even the donkey was glad to see Teddy.  January evinced his
pleasure at having his young master with him again by promptly
kicking young Tucker through the side wall of the pad room,
nearly breaking the Circus Boy's neck.
That day a letter came to Phil from The Greatest Show on Earth.
After reading it, Phil hastened to his employer.
"I have a letter offering us both a contract with The Greatest
for next season.  What do you think of that, Mr. Sparling?" asked
Phil with sparkling eyes.
Mr. Sparling did not appear to be surprised.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"Refuse it, of course.  I prefer to stay with you."
"And I prefer to have you."
"I thought you would."
"But I shall ask you to accept; in fact, I wish you to do so.
You will find the experience valuable.  When you finish your
season with the big show I shall have something of great
importance to communicate to you, if you wish to return to us."
"Yes; so wire on your acceptance right away, my boy, then you and
I will have a long talk."
So it was left.  Phil went on with the show during the remaining
four weeks, then the boys turned their faces homeward, where they
planned to put in a busy winter practicing and studying.
Despite their reluctance to leave Mr. Sparling for a season, they
were looking forward to the coming Spring when they were to join
the other show.  Their experiences there will be related in a
following volume, entitled, "THE CIRCUS BOYS AT THE TOP; Or,
Bossing the Greatest Show of All."
Project Gutenberg Etext: The Circus Boys on the Plains, Or, The
Young Advance Agents Ahead of the Show, by Edgar B P Darlington
This completes the Circus Boys series.
In contradiction to the notice placed above in the text.
This text was prepared for Project Gutenberg by Judith Smith and
Natalie Salter.  We would also like to thank Montell Corporation
Inc., Sarnia plant, for the use of scanning equipment to
facilitate the preparation of this electronic text.
Judith Smith
heyjude@ebtech.net
HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE
DANTE ALIGHIERI
TRANSLATED BY
THE REV. H. F. CARY, A.M.
IN the midway of this our mortal life,
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray
Gone from the path direct:  and e'en to tell
It were no easy task, how savage wild
That forest, how robust and rough its growth,
Which to remember only, my dismay
Renews, in bitterness not far from death.
Yet to discourse of what there good befell,
All else will I relate discover'd there.
How first I enter'd it I scarce can say,
Such sleepy dullness in that instant weigh'd
My senses down, when the true path I left,
But when a mountain's foot I reach'd, where clos'd
The valley, that had pierc'd my heart with dread,
I look'd aloft, and saw his shoulders broad
Already vested with that planet's beam,
Who leads all wanderers safe through every way.
     Then was a little respite to the fear,
That in my heart's recesses deep had lain,
All of that night, so pitifully pass'd:
And as a man, with difficult short breath,
Forespent with toiling, 'scap'd from sea to shore,
Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands
At gaze; e'en so my spirit, that yet fail'd
Struggling with terror, turn'd to view the straits,
That none hath pass'd and liv'd.  My weary frame
After short pause recomforted, again
I journey'd on over that lonely steep,
The hinder foot still firmer.  Scarce the ascent
Began, when, lo!  a panther, nimble, light,
And cover'd with a speckled skin, appear'd,
Nor, when it saw me, vanish'd, rather strove
To check my onward going; that ofttimes
With purpose to retrace my steps I turn'd.
     The hour was morning's prime, and on his way
Aloft the sun ascended with those stars,
That with him rose, when Love divine first mov'd
Those its fair works:  so that with joyous hope
All things conspir'd to fill me, the gay skin
Of that swift animal, the matin dawn
And the sweet season.  Soon that joy was chas'd,
And by new dread succeeded, when in view
A lion came, 'gainst me, as it appear'd,
With his head held aloft and hunger-mad,
That e'en the air was fear-struck.  A she-wolf
Was at his heels, who in her leanness seem'd
Full of all wants, and many a land hath made
Disconsolate ere now.  She with such fear
O'erwhelmed me, at the sight of her appall'd,
That of the height all hope I lost.  As one,
Who with his gain elated, sees the time
When all unwares is gone, he inwardly
Mourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I,
Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace,
Who coming o'er against me, by degrees
Impell'd me where the sun in silence rests.
     While to the lower space with backward step
I fell, my ken discern'd the form one of one,
Whose voice seem'd faint through long disuse of speech.
When him in that great desert I espied,
"Have mercy on me!"  cried I out aloud,
"Spirit!  or living man!  what e'er thou be!"
     He answer'd:  "Now not man, man once I was,
And born of Lombard parents, Mantuana both
By country, when the power of Julius yet
Was scarcely firm.  At Rome my life was past
Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time
Of fabled deities and false.  A bard
Was I, and made Anchises' upright son
The subject of my song, who came from Troy,
When the flames prey'd on Ilium's haughty towers.
But thou, say wherefore to such perils past
Return'st thou?  wherefore not this pleasant mount
Ascendest, cause and source of all delight?"
"And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring,
From which such copious floods of eloquence
Have issued?"  I with front abash'd replied.
"Glory and light of all the tuneful train!
May it avail me that I long with zeal
Have sought thy volume, and with love immense
Have conn'd it o'er.  My master thou and guide!
Thou he from whom alone I have deriv'd
That style, which for its beauty into fame
Exalts me.  See the beast, from whom I fled.
O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!
For every vein and pulse throughout my frame
She hath made tremble."  He, soon as he saw
That I was weeping, answer'd, "Thou must needs
Another way pursue, if thou wouldst 'scape
From out that savage wilderness.  This beast,
At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none
To pass, and no less hindrance makes than death:
So bad and so accursed in her kind,
That never sated is her ravenous will,
Still after food more craving than before.
To many an animal in wedlock vile
She fastens, and shall yet to many more,
Until that greyhound come, who shall destroy
Her with sharp pain.  He will not life support
By earth nor its base metals, but by love,
Wisdom, and virtue, and his land shall be
The land 'twixt either Feltro.  In his might
Shall safety to Italia's plains arise,
For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure,
Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell.
He with incessant chase through every town
Shall worry, until he to hell at length
Restore her, thence by envy first let loose.
I for thy profit pond'ring now devise,
That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guide
Will lead thee hence through an eternal space,
Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and see
Spirits of old tormented, who invoke
A second death; and those next view, who dwell
Content in fire, for that they hope to come,
Whene'er the time may be, among the blest,
Into whose regions if thou then desire
T' ascend, a spirit worthier then I
Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,
Thou shalt be left:  for that Almighty King,
Who reigns above, a rebel to his law,
Adjudges me, and therefore hath decreed,
That to his city none through me should come.
He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds
His citadel and throne.  O happy those,
Whom there he chooses!"  I to him in few:
"Bard!  by that God, whom thou didst not adore,
I do beseech thee (that this ill and worse
I may escape) to lead me, where thou saidst,
That I Saint Peter's gate may view, and those
Who as thou tell'st, are in such dismal plight."
     Onward he mov'd, I close his steps pursu'd.
NOW was the day departing, and the air,
Imbrown'd with shadows, from their toils releas'd
All animals on earth; and I alone
Prepar'd myself the conflict to sustain,
Both of sad pity, and that perilous road,
Which my unerring memory shall retrace.
     O Muses!  O high genius!  now vouchsafe
Your aid!  O mind!  that all I saw hast kept
Safe in a written record, here thy worth
And eminent endowments come to proof.
     I thus began:  "Bard!  thou who art my guide,
Consider well, if virtue be in me
Sufficient, ere to this high enterprise
Thou trust me.  Thou hast told that Silvius' sire,
Yet cloth'd in corruptible flesh, among
Th' immortal tribes had entrance, and was there
Sensible present.  Yet if heaven's great Lord,
Almighty foe to ill, such favour shew'd,
In contemplation of the high effect,
Both what and who from him should issue forth,
It seems in reason's judgment well deserv'd:
Sith he of Rome, and of Rome's empire wide,
In heaven's empyreal height was chosen sire:
Both which, if truth be spoken, were ordain'd
And 'stablish'd for the holy place, where sits
Who to great Peter's sacred chair succeeds.
He from this journey, in thy song renown'd,
Learn'd things, that to his victory gave rise
And to the papal robe.  In after-times
The chosen vessel also travel'd there,
To bring us back assurance in that faith,
Which is the entrance to salvation's way.
But I, why should I there presume?  or who
Permits it?  not, Aeneas I nor Paul.
Myself I deem not worthy, and none else
Will deem me.  I, if on this voyage then
I venture, fear it will in folly end.
Thou, who art wise, better my meaning know'st,
Than I can speak."  As one, who unresolves
What he hath late resolv'd, and with new thoughts
Changes his purpose, from his first intent
Remov'd; e'en such was I on that dun coast,
Wasting in thought my enterprise, at first
So eagerly embrac'd.  "If right thy words
I scan," replied that shade magnanimous,
"Thy soul is by vile fear assail'd, which oft
So overcasts a man, that he recoils
From noblest resolution, like a beast
At some false semblance in the twilight gloom.
That from this terror thou mayst free thyself,
I will instruct thee why I came, and what
I heard in that same instant, when for thee
Grief touch'd me first.  I was among the tribe,
Who rest suspended, when a dame, so blest
And lovely, I besought her to command,
Call'd me; her eyes were brighter than the star
Of day; and she with gentle voice and soft
Angelically tun'd her speech address'd:
"O courteous shade of Mantua!  thou whose fame
Yet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts!
A friend, not of my fortune but myself,
On the wide desert in his road has met
Hindrance so great, that he through fear has turn'd.
Now much I dread lest he past help have stray'd,
And I be ris'n too late for his relief,
From what in heaven of him I heard.  Speed now,
And by thy eloquent persuasive tongue,
And by all means for his deliverance meet,
Assist him.  So to me will comfort spring.
I who now bid thee on this errand forth
Am Beatrice; from a place I come
(Note:  Beatrice.  I use this word, as it is
pronounced in the Italian, as consisting of four
syllables, of which the third is a long one.)
Revisited with joy.  Love brought me thence,
Who prompts my speech.  When in my Master's sight
I stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell."
     She then was silent, and I thus began:
"O Lady!  by whose influence alone,
Mankind excels whatever is contain'd
Within that heaven which hath the smallest orb,
So thy command delights me, that to obey,
If it were done already, would seem late.
No need hast thou farther to speak thy will;
Yet tell the reason, why thou art not loth
To leave that ample space, where to return
Thou burnest, for this centre here beneath."
     She then:  "Since thou so deeply wouldst inquire,
I will instruct thee briefly, why no dread
Hinders my entrance here.  Those things alone
Are to be fear'd, whence evil may proceed,
None else, for none are terrible beside.
I am so fram'd by God, thanks to his grace!
That any suff'rance of your misery
Touches me not, nor flame of that fierce fire
Assails me.  In high heaven a blessed dame
Besides, who mourns with such effectual grief
That hindrance, which I send thee to remove,
That God's stern judgment to her will inclines.
To Lucia calling, her she thus bespake:
"Now doth thy faithful servant need thy aid
And I commend him to thee."  At her word
Sped Lucia, of all cruelty the foe,
And coming to the place, where I abode
Seated with Rachel, her of ancient days,
She thus address'd me: "Thou true praise of God!
Beatrice!  why is not thy succour lent
To him, who so much lov'd thee, as to leave
For thy sake all the multitude admires?
Dost thou not hear how pitiful his wail,
Nor mark the death, which in the torrent flood,
Swoln mightier than a sea, him struggling holds?"
Ne'er among men did any with such speed
Haste to their profit, flee from their annoy,
As when these words were spoken, I came here,
Down from my blessed seat, trusting the force
Of thy pure eloquence, which thee, and all
Who well have mark'd it, into honour brings."
     "When she had ended, her bright beaming eyes
Tearful she turn'd aside; whereat I felt
Redoubled zeal to serve thee.  As she will'd,
Thus am I come: I sav'd thee from the beast,
Who thy near way across the goodly mount
Prevented.  What is this comes o'er thee then?
Why, why dost thou hang back?  why in thy breast
Harbour vile fear?  why hast not courage there
And noble daring?  Since three maids so blest
Thy safety plan, e'en in the court of heaven;
And so much certain good my words forebode."
     As florets, by the frosty air of night
Bent down and clos'd, when day has blanch'd their leaves,
Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems;
So was my fainting vigour new restor'd,
And to my heart such kindly courage ran,
That I as one undaunted soon replied:
"O full of pity she, who undertook
My succour!  and thou kind who didst perform
So soon her true behest!  With such desire
Thou hast dispos'd me to renew my voyage,
That my first purpose fully is resum'd.
Lead on: one only will is in us both.
Thou art my guide, my master thou, and lord."
     So spake I; and when he had onward mov'd,
I enter'd on the deep and woody way.
"THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here."
     Such characters in colour dim I mark'd
Over a portal's lofty arch inscrib'd:
Whereat I thus: "Master, these words import
Hard meaning."  He as one prepar'd replied:
"Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave;
Here be vile fear extinguish'd. We are come
Where I have told thee we shall see the souls
To misery doom'd, who intellectual good
Have lost."  And when his hand he had stretch'd forth
To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer'd,
Into that secret place he led me on.
     Here sighs with lamentations and loud moans
Resounded through the air pierc'd by no star,
That e'en I wept at entering.  Various tongues,
Horrible languages, outcries of woe,
Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse,
With hands together smote that swell'd the sounds,
Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls
Round through that air with solid darkness stain'd,
Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies.
     I then, with error yet encompass'd, cried:
"O master!  What is this I hear?  What race
Are these, who seem so overcome with woe?"
     He thus to me: "This miserable fate
Suffer the wretched souls of those, who liv'd
Without or praise or blame, with that ill band
Of angels mix'd, who nor rebellious prov'd
Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves
Were only.  From his bounds Heaven drove them forth,
Not to impair his lustre, nor the depth
Of Hell receives them, lest th' accursed tribe
Should glory thence with exultation vain."
     I then: "Master!  what doth aggrieve them thus,
That they lament so loud?"  He straight replied:
"That will I tell thee briefly.  These of death
No hope may entertain: and their blind life
So meanly passes, that all other lots
They envy.  Fame of them the world hath none,
Nor suffers; mercy and justice scorn them both.
Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by."
     And I, who straightway look'd, beheld a flag,
Which whirling ran around so rapidly,
That it no pause obtain'd: and following came
Such a long train of spirits, I should ne'er
Have thought, that death so many had despoil'd.
     When some of these I recogniz'd, I saw
And knew the shade of him, who to base fear
Yielding, abjur'd his high estate.  Forthwith
I understood for certain this the tribe
Of those ill spirits both to God displeasing
And to his foes.  These wretches, who ne'er lived,
Went on in nakedness, and sorely stung
By wasps and hornets, which bedew'd their cheeks
With blood, that mix'd with tears dropp'd to their feet,
And by disgustful worms was gather'd there.
     Then looking farther onwards I beheld
A throng upon the shore of a great stream:
Whereat I thus: "Sir!  grant me now to know
Whom here we view, and whence impell'd they seem
So eager to pass o'er, as I discern
Through the blear light?"  He thus to me in few:
"This shalt thou know, soon as our steps arrive
Beside the woeful tide of Acheron."
     Then with eyes downward cast and fill'd with shame,
Fearing my words offensive to his ear,
Till we had reach'd the river, I from speech
Abstain'd.  And lo!  toward us in a bark
Comes on an old man hoary white with eld,
Crying, "Woe to you wicked spirits!  hope not
Ever to see the sky again.  I come
To take you to the other shore across,
Into eternal darkness, there to dwell
In fierce heat and in ice.  And thou, who there
Standest, live spirit!  get thee hence, and leave
These who are dead."  But soon as he beheld
I left them not, "By other way," said he,
"By other haven shalt thou come to shore,
Not by this passage; thee a nimbler boat
Must carry."  Then to him thus spake my guide:
"Charon!  thyself torment not: so 't is will'd,
Where will and power are one: ask thou no more."
     Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks
Of him the boatman o'er the livid lake,
Around whose eyes glar'd wheeling flames.  Meanwhile
Those spirits, faint and naked, color chang'd,
And gnash'd their teeth, soon as the cruel words
They heard.  God and their parents they blasphem'd,
The human kind, the place, the time, and seed
That did engender them and give them birth.
     Then all together sorely wailing drew
To the curs'd strand, that every man must pass
Who fears not God.  Charon, demoniac form,
With eyes of burning coal, collects them all,
Beck'ning, and each, that lingers, with his oar
Strikes.  As fall off the light autumnal leaves,
One still another following, till the bough
Strews all its honours on the earth beneath;
E'en in like manner Adam's evil brood
Cast themselves one by one down from the shore,
Each at a beck, as falcon at his call.
     Thus go they over through the umber'd wave,
And ever they on the opposing bank
Be landed, on this side another throng
Still gathers.  "Son," thus spake the courteous guide,
"Those, who die subject to the wrath of God,
All here together come from every clime,
And to o'erpass the river are not loth:
For so heaven's justice goads them on, that fear
Is turn'd into desire.  Hence ne'er hath past
Good spirit.  If of thee Charon complain,
Now mayst thou know the import of his words."
     This said, the gloomy region trembling shook
So terribly, that yet with clammy dews
Fear chills my brow.  The sad earth gave a blast,
That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame,
Which all my senses conquer'd quite, and I
Down dropp'd, as one with sudden slumber seiz'd.
BROKE the deep slumber in my brain a crash
Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself,
As one by main force rous'd.  Risen upright,
My rested eyes I mov'd around, and search'd
With fixed ken to know what place it was,
Wherein I stood.  For certain on the brink
I found me of the lamentable vale,
The dread abyss, that joins a thund'rous sound
Of plaints innumerable.  Dark and deep,
And thick with clouds o'erspread, mine eye in vain
Explor'd its bottom, nor could aught discern.
     "Now let us to the blind world there beneath
Descend;" the bard began all pale of look:
"I go the first, and thou shalt follow next."
     Then I his alter'd hue perceiving, thus:
"How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,
Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?"
     He then:  "The anguish of that race below
With pity stains my cheek, which thou for fear
Mistakest.  Let us on.  Our length of way
Urges to haste."  Onward, this said, he mov'd;
And ent'ring led me with him on the bounds
Of the first circle, that surrounds th' abyss.
Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heard
Except of sighs, that made th' eternal air
Tremble, not caus'd by tortures, but from grief
Felt by those multitudes, many and vast,
Of men, women, and infants.  Then to me
The gentle guide:  "Inquir'st thou not what spirits
Are these, which thou beholdest?  Ere thou pass
Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin
Were blameless; and if aught they merited,
It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,
The portal to thy faith.  If they before
The Gospel liv'd, they serv'd not God aright;
And among such am I. For these defects,
And for no other evil, we are lost;
Only so far afflicted, that we live
Desiring without hope."  So grief assail'd
My heart at hearing this, for well I knew
Suspended in that Limbo many a soul
Of mighty worth.  "O tell me, sire rever'd!
Tell me, my master!"  I began through wish
Of full assurance in that holy faith,
Which vanquishes all error; "say, did e'er
Any, or through his own or other's merit,
Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?"
     Piercing the secret purport of my speech,
He answer'd: "I was new to that estate,
When I beheld a puissant one arrive
Amongst us, with victorious trophy crown'd.
He forth the shade of our first parent drew,
Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,
Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv'd,
Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,
Israel with his sire and with his sons,
Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,
And others many more, whom he to bliss
Exalted.  Before these, be thou assur'd,
No spirit of human kind was ever sav'd."
     We, while he spake, ceas'd not our onward road,
Still passing through the wood; for so I name
Those spirits thick beset.  We were not far
On this side from the summit, when I kenn'd
A flame, that o'er the darken'd hemisphere
Prevailing shin'd.  Yet we a little space
Were distant, not so far but I in part
Discover'd, that a tribe in honour high
That place possess'd.  "O thou, who every art
And science valu'st!  who are these, that boast
Such honour, separate from all the rest?"
     He answer'd: "The renown of their great names
That echoes through your world above, acquires
Favour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc'd."
Meantime a voice I heard: "Honour the bard
Sublime!  his shade returns that left us late!"
No sooner ceas'd the sound, than I beheld
Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps,
Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad.
     When thus my master kind began: "Mark him,
Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen,
The other three preceding, as their lord.
This is that Homer, of all bards supreme:
Flaccus the next in satire's vein excelling;
The third is Naso; Lucan is the last.
Because they all that appellation own,
With which the voice singly accosted me,
Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge."
     So I beheld united the bright school
Of him the monarch of sublimest song,
That o'er the others like an eagle soars.
When they together short discourse had held,
They turn'd to me, with salutation kind
Beck'ning me; at the which my master smil'd:
Nor was this all; but greater honour still
They gave me, for they made me of their tribe;
And I was sixth amid so learn'd a band.
     Far as the luminous beacon on we pass'd
Speaking of matters, then befitting well
To speak, now fitter left untold.  At foot
Of a magnificent castle we arriv'd,
Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and round
Defended by a pleasant stream.  O'er this
As o'er dry land we pass'd.  Next through seven gates
I with those sages enter'd, and we came
Into a mead with lively verdure fresh.
     There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes around
Majestically mov'd, and in their port
Bore eminent authority; they spake
Seldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet.
     We to one side retir'd, into a place
Open and bright and lofty, whence each one
Stood manifest to view.  Incontinent
There on the green enamel of the plain
Were shown me the great spirits, by whose sight
I am exalted in my own esteem.
     Electra there I saw accompanied
By many, among whom Hector I knew,
Anchises' pious son, and with hawk's eye
Caesar all arm'd, and by Camilla there
Penthesilea.  On the other side
Old King Latinus, seated by his child
Lavinia, and that Brutus I beheld,
Who Tarquin chas'd, Lucretia, Cato's wife
Marcia, with Julia and Cornelia there;
And sole apart retir'd, the Soldan fierce.
     Then when a little more I rais'd my brow,
I spied the master of the sapient throng,
Seated amid the philosophic train.
Him all admire, all pay him rev'rence due.
There Socrates and Plato both I mark'd,
Nearest to him in rank; Democritus,
Who sets the world at chance, Diogenes,
With Heraclitus, and Empedocles,
And Anaxagoras, and Thales sage,
Zeno, and Dioscorides well read
In nature's secret lore.  Orpheus I mark'd
And Linus, Tully and moral Seneca,
Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates,
Galenus, Avicen, and him who made
That commentary vast, Averroes.
     Of all to speak at full were vain attempt;
For my wide theme so urges, that ofttimes
My words fall short of what bechanc'd.  In two
The six associates part.  Another way
My sage guide leads me, from that air serene,
Into a climate ever vex'd with storms:
And to a part I come where no light shines.
FROM the first circle I descended thus
Down to the second, which, a lesser space
Embracing, so much more of grief contains
Provoking bitter moans.  There, Minos stands
Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all
Who enter, strict examining the crimes,
Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,
According as he foldeth him around:
For when before him comes th' ill fated soul,
It all confesses; and that judge severe
Of sins, considering what place in hell
Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft
Himself encircles, as degrees beneath
He dooms it to descend.  Before him stand
Always a num'rous throng; and in his turn
Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and hears
His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl'd.
     "O thou!  who to this residence of woe
Approachest?"  when he saw me coming, cried
Minos, relinquishing his dread employ,
"Look how thou enter here; beware in whom
Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad
Deceive thee to thy harm."  To him my guide:
"Wherefore exclaimest?  Hinder not his way
By destiny appointed;  so 'tis will'd
Where will and power are one.  Ask thou no more."
     Now 'gin the rueful wailings to be heard.
Now am I come where many a plaining voice
Smites on mine ear.  Into a place I came
Where light was silent all.  Bellowing there groan'd
A noise as of a sea in tempest torn
By warring winds.  The stormy blast of hell
With restless fury drives the spirits on
Whirl'd round and dash'd amain with sore annoy.
When they arrive before the ruinous sweep,
There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans,
And blasphemies 'gainst the good Power in heaven.
     I understood that to this torment sad
The carnal sinners are condemn'd, in whom
Reason by lust is sway'd.  As in large troops
And multitudinous, when winter reigns,
The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;
So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.
On this side and on that, above, below,
It drives them:  hope of rest to solace them
Is none, nor e'en of milder pang.  As cranes,
Chanting their dol'rous notes, traverse the sky,
Stretch'd out in long array:  so I beheld
Spirits, who came loud wailing, hurried on
By their dire doom.  Then I:  "Instructor!  who
Are these, by the black air so scourg'd?"--" The first
'Mong those, of whom thou question'st," he replied,
"O'er many tongues was empress.  She in vice
Of luxury was so shameless, that she made
Liking be lawful by promulg'd decree,
To clear the blame she had herself incurr'd.
This is Semiramis, of whom 'tis writ,
That she succeeded Ninus her espous'd;
And held the land, which now the Soldan rules.
The next in amorous fury slew herself,
And to Sicheus' ashes broke her faith:
Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen."
     There mark'd I Helen, for whose sake so long
The time was fraught with evil; there the great
Achilles, who with love fought to the end.
Paris I saw, and Tristan; and beside
A thousand more he show'd me, and by name
Pointed them out, whom love bereav'd of life.
     When I had heard my sage instructor name
Those dames and knights of antique days, o'erpower'd
By pity, well-nigh in amaze my mind
Was lost; and I began:  "Bard!  willingly
I would address those two together coming,
Which seem so light before the wind."  He thus:
"Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.
Then by that love which carries them along,
Entreat; and they will come."  Soon as the wind
Sway'd them toward us, I thus fram'd my speech:
"O wearied spirits!  come, and hold discourse
With us, if by none else restrain'd."  As doves
By fond desire invited, on wide wings
And firm, to their sweet nest returning home,
Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;
Thus issu'd from that troop, where Dido ranks,
They through the ill air speeding; with such force
My cry prevail'd by strong affection urg'd.
     "O gracious creature and benign!  who go'st
Visiting, through this element obscure,
Us, who the world with bloody stain imbru'd;
If for a friend the King of all we own'd,
Our pray'r to him should for thy peace arise,
Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.
()f whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse
It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that
Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind,
As now, is mute.  The land, that gave me birth,
Is situate on the coast, where Po descends
To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.
     "Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt,
Entangled him by that fair form, from me
Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still:
Love, that denial takes from none belov'd,
Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,
That, as thou see'st, he yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death:  Caina waits
The soul, who spilt our life."  Such were their words;
At hearing which downward I bent my looks,
And held them there so long, that the bard cried:
"What art thou pond'ring?"  I in answer thus:
"Alas!  by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire
Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!"
     Then turning, I to them my speech address'd.
And thus began:  "Francesca!  your sad fate
Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs,
By what, and how love granted, that ye knew
Your yet uncertain wishes?"  She replied:
"No greater grief than to remember days
Of joy, when mis'ry is at hand!  That kens
Thy learn'd instructor.  Yet so eagerly
If thou art bent to know the primal root,
From whence our love gat being, I will do,
As one, who weeps and tells his tale.  One day
For our delight we read of Lancelot,
How him love thrall'd.  Alone we were, and no
Suspicion near us.  Ofttimes by that reading
Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
Fled from our alter'd cheek.  But at one point
Alone we fell.  When of that smile we read,
The wished smile, rapturously kiss'd
By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er
From me shall separate, at once my lips
All trembling kiss'd.  The book and writer both
Were love's purveyors.  In its leaves that day
We read no more."  While thus one spirit spake,
The other wail'd so sorely, that heartstruck
I through compassion fainting, seem'd not far
From death, and like a corpse fell to the ground.
MY sense reviving, that erewhile had droop'd
With pity for the kindred shades, whence grief
O'ercame me wholly, straight around I see
New torments, new tormented souls, which way
Soe'er I move, or turn, or bend my sight.
In the third circle I arrive, of show'rs
Ceaseless, accursed, heavy, and cold, unchang'd
For ever, both in kind and in degree.
Large hail, discolour'd water, sleety flaw
Through the dun midnight air stream'd down amain:
Stank all the land whereon that tempest fell.
     Cerberus, cruel monster, fierce and strange,
Through his wide threefold throat barks as a dog
Over the multitude immers'd beneath.
His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard,
His belly large, and claw'd the hands, with which
He tears the spirits, flays them, and their limbs
Piecemeal disparts.  Howling there spread, as curs,
Under the rainy deluge, with one side
The other screening, oft they roll them round,
A wretched, godless crew.  When that great worm
Descried us, savage Cerberus, he op'd
His jaws, and the fangs show'd us; not a limb
Of him but trembled.  Then my guide, his palms
Expanding on the ground, thence filled with earth
Rais'd them, and cast it in his ravenous maw.
E'en as a dog, that yelling bays for food
His keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fall
His fury, bent alone with eager haste
To swallow it; so dropp'd the loathsome cheeks
Of demon Cerberus, who thund'ring stuns
The spirits, that they for deafness wish in vain.
     We, o'er the shades thrown prostrate by the brunt
Of the heavy tempest passing, set our feet
Upon their emptiness, that substance seem'd.
     They all along the earth extended lay
Save one, that sudden rais'd himself to sit,
Soon as that way he saw us pass.  "O thou!"
He cried, "who through the infernal shades art led,
Own, if again thou know'st me.  Thou wast fram'd
Or ere my frame was broken."  I replied:
"The anguish thou endur'st perchance so takes
Thy form from my remembrance, that it seems
As if I saw thee never.  But inform
Me who thou art, that in a place so sad
Art set, and in such torment, that although
Other be greater, more disgustful none
Can be imagin'd."  He in answer thus:
"Thy city heap'd with envy to the brim,
Ay that the measure overflows its bounds,
Held me in brighter days.  Ye citizens
Were wont to name me Ciacco.  For the sin
Of glutt'ny, damned vice, beneath this rain,
E'en as thou see'st, I with fatigue am worn;
Nor I sole spirit in this woe:  all these
Have by like crime incurr'd like punishment."
     No more he said, and I my speech resum'd:
"Ciacco!  thy dire affliction grieves me much,
Even to tears.  But tell me, if thou know'st,
What shall at length befall the citizens
Of the divided city;  whether any just one
Inhabit there:  and tell me of the cause,
Whence jarring discord hath assail'd it thus?"
     He then: "After long striving they will come
To blood; and the wild party from the woods
Will chase the other with much injury forth.
Then it behoves, that this must fall, within
Three solar circles; and the other rise
By borrow'd force of one, who under shore
Now rests.  It shall a long space hold aloof
Its forehead, keeping under heavy weight
The other oppress'd, indignant at the load,
And grieving sore.  The just are two in number,
But they neglected.  Av'rice, envy, pride,
Three fatal sparks, have set the hearts of all
On fire."  Here ceas'd the lamentable sound;
And I continu'd thus: "Still would I learn
More from thee, farther parley still entreat.
Of Farinata and Tegghiaio say,
They who so well deserv'd, of Giacopo,
Arrigo, Mosca, and the rest, who bent
Their minds on working good.  Oh!  tell me where
They bide, and to their knowledge let me come.
For I am press'd with keen desire to hear,
If heaven's sweet cup or poisonous drug of hell
Be to their lip assign'd."   He answer'd straight:
"These are yet blacker spirits.  Various crimes
Have sunk them deeper in the dark abyss.
If thou so far descendest, thou mayst see them.
But to the pleasant world when thou return'st,
Of me make mention, I entreat thee, there.
No more I tell thee, answer thee no more."
     This said, his fixed eyes he turn'd askance,
A little ey'd me, then bent down his head,
And 'midst his blind companions with it fell.
     When thus my guide:  "No more his bed he leaves,
Ere the last angel-trumpet blow.  The Power
Adverse to these shall then in glory come,
Each one forthwith to his sad tomb repair,
Resume his fleshly vesture and his form,
And hear the eternal doom re-echoing rend
The vault."  So pass'd we through that mixture foul
Of spirits and rain, with tardy steps; meanwhile
Touching, though slightly, on the life to come.
For thus I question'd:  "Shall these tortures, Sir!
When the great sentence passes, be increas'd,
Or mitigated, or as now severe?"
     He then:  "Consult thy knowledge; that decides
That as each thing to more perfection grows,
It feels more sensibly both good and pain.
Though ne'er to true perfection may arrive
This race accurs'd, yet nearer then than now
They shall approach it."  Compassing that path
Circuitous we journeyed, and discourse
Much more than I relate between us pass'd:
Till at the point, where the steps led below,
Arriv'd, there Plutus, the great foe, we found.
"AH me!  O Satan!  Satan!" loud exclaim'd
Plutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:
And the kind sage, whom no event surpris'd,
To comfort me thus spake:  "Let not thy fear
Harm thee, for power in him, be sure, is none
To hinder down this rock thy safe descent."
Then to that sworn lip turning, " Peace!"  he cried,
"Curs'd wolf!  thy fury inward on thyself
Prey, and consume thee!  Through the dark profound
Not without cause he passes.  So 't is will'd
On high, there where the great Archangel pour'd
Heav'n's vengeance on the first adulterer proud."
     As sails full spread and bellying with the wind
Drop suddenly collaps'd, if the mast split;
So to the ground down dropp'd the cruel fiend.
     Thus we, descending to the fourth steep ledge,
Gain'd on the dismal shore, that all the woe
Hems in of all the universe.  Ah me!
Almighty Justice!  in what store thou heap'st
New pains, new troubles, as I here beheld!
Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this?
     E'en as a billow, on Charybdis rising,
Against encounter'd billow dashing breaks;
Such is the dance this wretched race must lead,
Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found,
From one side and the other, with loud voice,
Both roll'd on weights by main forge of their breasts,
Then smote together, and each one forthwith
Roll'd them back voluble, turning again,
Exclaiming these, "Why holdest thou so fast?"
Those answering, "And why castest thou away?"
So still repeating their despiteful song,
They to the opposite point on either hand
Travers'd the horrid circle:  then arriv'd,
Both turn'd them round, and through the middle space
Conflicting met again.  At sight whereof
I, stung with grief, thus spake:  "O say, my guide!
What race is this?  Were these, whose heads are shorn,
On our left hand, all sep'rate to the church?"
     He straight replied:  "In their first life these all
In mind were so distorted, that they made,
According to due measure, of their wealth,
No use.  This clearly from their words collect,
Which they howl forth, at each extremity
Arriving of the circle, where their crime
Contrary' in kind disparts them.  To the church
Were separate those, that with no hairy cowls
Are crown'd, both Popes and Cardinals, o'er whom
Av'rice dominion absolute maintains."
     I then:  "Mid such as these some needs must be,
Whom I shall recognize, that with the blot
Of these foul sins were stain'd."  He answering thus:
"Vain thought conceiv'st thou.  That ignoble life,
Which made them vile before, now makes them dark,
And to all knowledge indiscernible.
Forever they shall meet in this rude shock:
These from the tomb with clenched grasp shall rise,
Those with close-shaven locks.  That ill they gave,
And ill they kept, hath of the beauteous world
Depriv'd, and set them at this strife, which needs
No labour'd phrase of mine to set if off.
Now may'st thou see, my son!  how brief, how vain,
The goods committed into fortune's hands,
For which the human race keep such a coil!
Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon,
Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls
Might purchase rest for one."  I thus rejoin'd:
     "My guide! of thee this also would I learn;
This fortune, that thou speak'st of, what it is,
Whose talons grasp the blessings of the world?"
     He thus:  "O beings blind!  what ignorance
Besets you?  Now my judgment hear and mark.
He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all,
The heavens creating, gave them ruling powers
To guide them, so that each part shines to each,
Their light in equal distribution pour'd.
By similar appointment he ordain'd
Over the world's bright images to rule.
Superintendence of a guiding hand
And general minister, which at due time
May change the empty vantages of life
From race to race, from one to other's blood,
Beyond prevention of man's wisest care:
Wherefore one nation rises into sway,
Another languishes, e'en as her will
Decrees, from us conceal'd, as in the grass
The serpent train.  Against her nought avails
Your utmost wisdom.  She with foresight plans,
Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs
The other powers divine.  Her changes know
Nore intermission:  by necessity
She is made swift, so frequent come who claim
Succession in her favours.  This is she,
So execrated e'en by those, whose debt
To her is rather praise; they wrongfully
With blame requite her, and with evil word;
But she is blessed, and for that recks not:
Amidst the other primal beings glad
Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.
Now on our way pass we, to heavier woe
Descending:  for each star is falling now,
That mounted at our entrance, and forbids
Too long our tarrying."  We the circle cross'd
To the next steep, arriving at a well,
That boiling pours itself down to a foss
Sluic'd from its source.  Far murkier was the wave
Than sablest grain:  and we in company
Of the' inky waters, journeying by their side,
Enter'd, though by a different track, beneath.
Into a lake, the Stygian nam'd, expands
The dismal stream, when it hath reach'd the foot
Of the grey wither'd cliffs.  Intent I stood
To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried
A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks
Betok'ning rage.  They with their hands alone
Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,
Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.
     The good instructor spake; "Now seest thou, son!
The souls of those, whom anger overcame.
This too for certain know, that underneath
The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs
Into these bubbles make the surface heave,
As thine eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turn.
Fix'd in the slime they say: "Sad once were we
In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,
Carrying a foul and lazy mist within:
Now in these murky settlings are we sad."
Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats.
But word distinct can utter none."  Our route
Thus compass'd we, a segment widely stretch'd
Between the dry embankment, and the core
Of the loath'd pool, turning meanwhile our eyes
Downward on those who gulp'd its muddy lees;
Nor stopp'd, till to a tower's low base we came.
MY theme pursuing, I relate that ere
We reach'd the lofty turret's base, our eyes
Its height ascended, where two cressets hung
We mark'd, and from afar another light
Return the signal, so remote, that scarce
The eye could catch its beam.  I turning round
To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir'd:
"Say what this means?  and what that other light
In answer set?  what agency doth this?"
     "There on the filthy waters," he replied,
"E'en now what next awaits us mayst thou see,
If the marsh-gender'd fog conceal it not."
     Never was arrow from the cord dismiss'd,
That ran its way so nimbly through the air,
As a small bark, that through the waves I spied
Toward us coming, under the sole sway
Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud:
"Art thou arriv'd, fell spirit?"--"Phlegyas, Phlegyas,
This time thou criest in vain," my lord replied;
"No longer shalt thou have us, but while o'er
The slimy pool we pass."  As one who hears
Of some great wrong he hath sustain'd, whereat
Inly he pines; so Phlegyas inly pin'd
In his fierce ire.  My guide descending stepp'd
Into the skiff, and bade me enter next
Close at his side; nor till my entrance seem'd
The vessel freighted.  Soon as both embark'd,
Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,
More deeply than with others it is wont.
     While we our course o'er the dead channel held.
One drench'd in mire before me came, and said;
"Who art thou, that thou comest ere thine hour?"
     I answer'd: "Though I come, I tarry not;
But who art thou, that art become so foul?"
     "One, as thou seest, who mourn: " he straight replied.
     To which I thus: " In mourning and in woe,
Curs'd spirit!  tarry thou. I know thee well,
E'en thus in filth disguis'd."  Then stretch'd he forth
Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage
Aware, thrusting him back: "Away!  down there
To the' other dogs!"  then, with his arms my neck
Encircling, kiss'd my cheek, and spake: "O soul
Justly disdainful!  blest was she in whom
Thou was conceiv'd!  He in the world was one
For arrogance noted; to his memory
No virtue lends its lustre; even so
Here is his shadow furious.  There above
How many now hold themselves mighty kings
Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire,
Leaving behind them horrible dispraise!"
     I then: "Master!  him fain would I behold
Whelm'd in these dregs, before we quit the lake."
     He thus: "Or ever to thy view the shore
Be offer'd, satisfied shall be that wish,
Which well deserves completion."  Scarce his words
Were ended, when I saw the miry tribes
Set on him with such violence, that yet
For that render I thanks to God and praise
"To Filippo Argenti:" cried they all:
And on himself the moody Florentine
Turn'd his avenging fangs.  Him here we left,
Nor speak I of him more.  But on mine ear
Sudden a sound of lamentation smote,
Whereat mine eye unbarr'd I sent abroad.
     And thus the good instructor: "Now, my son!
Draws near the city, that of Dis is nam'd,
With its grave denizens, a mighty throng."
     I thus: "The minarets already, Sir!
There certes in the valley I descry,
Gleaming vermilion, as if they from fire
Had issu'd."  He replied: "Eternal fire,
That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flame
Illum'd; as in this nether hell thou seest."
     We came within the fosses deep, that moat
This region comfortless.  The walls appear'd
As they were fram'd of iron.  We had made
Wide circuit, ere a place we reach'd, where loud
The mariner cried vehement: "Go forth!
The' entrance is here!"  Upon the gates I spied
More than a thousand, who of old from heaven
Were hurl'd.  With ireful gestures, "Who is this,"
They cried, "that without death first felt, goes through
The regions of the dead?"  My sapient guide
Made sign that he for secret parley wish'd;
Whereat their angry scorn abating, thus
They spake: "Come thou alone; and let him go
Who hath so hardily enter'd this realm.
Alone return he by his witless way;
If well he know it, let him prove.  For thee,
Here shalt thou tarry, who through clime so dark
Hast been his escort." Now bethink thee, reader!
What cheer was mine at sound of those curs'd words.
I did believe I never should return.
     "O my lov'd guide!  who more than seven times
Security hast render'd me, and drawn
From peril deep, whereto I stood expos'd,
Desert me not," I cried, "in this extreme.
And if our onward going be denied,
Together trace we back our steps with speed."
     My liege, who thither had conducted me,
Replied: "Fear not:  for of our passage none
Hath power to disappoint us, by such high
Authority permitted.  But do thou
Expect me here; meanwhile thy wearied spirit
Comfort, and feed with kindly hope, assur'd
I will not leave thee in this lower world."
     This said, departs the sire benevolent,
And quits me.  Hesitating I remain
At war 'twixt will and will not in my thoughts.
     I could not hear what terms he offer'd them,
But they conferr'd not long, for all at once
To trial fled within.  Clos'd were the gates
By those our adversaries on the breast
Of my liege lord:  excluded he return'd
To me with tardy steps.  Upon the ground
His eyes were bent, and from his brow eras'd
All confidence, while thus with sighs he spake:
"Who hath denied me these abodes of woe?"
Then thus to me: "That I am anger'd, think
No ground of terror:  in this trial I
Shall vanquish, use what arts they may within
For hindrance.  This their insolence, not new,
Erewhile at gate less secret they display'd,
Which still is without bolt; upon its arch
Thou saw'st the deadly scroll:  and even now
On this side of its entrance, down the steep,
Passing the circles, unescorted, comes
One whose strong might can open us this land."
THE hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeks
Imprinted, when I saw my guide turn back,
Chas'd that from his which newly they had worn,
And inwardly restrain'd it.  He, as one
Who listens, stood attentive:  for his eye
Not far could lead him through the sable air,
And the thick-gath'ring cloud.  "It yet behooves
We win this fight"--thus he began--" if not--
Such aid to us is offer'd. --Oh, how long
Me seems it, ere the promis'd help arrive!"
     I noted, how the sequel of his words
Clok'd their beginning; for the last he spake
Agreed not with the first.  But not the less
My fear was at his saying; sith I drew
To import worse perchance, than that he held,
His mutilated speech.  "Doth ever any
Into this rueful concave's extreme depth
Descend, out of the first degree, whose pain
Is deprivation merely of sweet hope?"
     Thus I inquiring. "Rarely," he replied,
"It chances, that among us any makes
This journey, which I wend.  Erewhile 'tis true
Once came I here beneath, conjur'd by fell
Erictho, sorceress, who compell'd the shades
Back to their bodies.  No long space my flesh
Was naked of me, when within these walls
She made me enter, to draw forth a spirit
From out of Judas' circle.  Lowest place
Is that of all, obscurest, and remov'd
Farthest from heav'n's all-circling orb.  The road
Full well I know:  thou therefore rest secure.
That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, round
The city' of grief encompasses, which now
We may not enter without rage."  Yet more
He added:  but I hold it not in mind,
For that mine eye toward the lofty tower
Had drawn me wholly, to its burning top.
Where in an instant I beheld uprisen
At once three hellish furies stain'd with blood:
In limb and motion feminine they seem'd;
Around them greenest hydras twisting roll'd
Their volumes; adders and cerastes crept
Instead of hair, and their fierce temples bound.
     He knowing well the miserable hags
Who tend the queen of endless woe, thus spake:
"Mark thou each dire Erinnys. To the left
This is Megaera; on the right hand she,
Who wails, Alecto; and Tisiphone
I' th' midst."  This said, in silence he remain'd
Their breast they each one clawing tore; themselves
Smote with their palms, and such shrill clamour rais'd,
That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound.
"Hasten Medusa: so to adamant
Him shall we change;" all looking down exclaim'd.
"E'en when by Theseus' might assail'd, we took
No ill revenge."  "Turn thyself round, and keep
Thy count'nance hid; for if the Gorgon dire
Be shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy return
Upwards would be for ever lost."  This said,
Himself my gentle master turn'd me round,
Nor trusted he my hands, but with his own
He also hid me.  Ye of intellect
Sound and entire, mark well the lore conceal'd
Under close texture of the mystic strain!
     And now there came o'er the perturbed waves
Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made
Either shore tremble, as if of a wind
Impetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung,
That 'gainst some forest driving all its might,
Plucks off the branches, beats them down and hurls
Afar; then onward passing proudly sweeps
Its whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly.
     Mine eyes he loos'd, and spake: "And now direct
Thy visual nerve along that ancient foam,
There, thickest where the smoke ascends." As frogs
Before their foe the serpent, through the wave
Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one
Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits
Destroy'd, so saw I fleeing before one
Who pass'd with unwet feet the Stygian sound.
He, from his face removing the gross air,
Oft his left hand forth stretch'd, and seem'd alone
By that annoyance wearied.  I perceiv'd
That he was sent from heav'n, and to my guide
Turn'd me, who signal made that I should stand
Quiet, and bend to him. Ah me!  how full
Of noble anger seem'd he!  To the gate
He came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereat
Open without impediment it flew.
     "Outcasts of heav'n!  O abject race and scorn'd!"
Began he on the horrid grunsel standing,
"Whence doth this wild excess of insolence
Lodge in you? wherefore kick you 'gainst that will
Ne'er frustrate of its end, and which so oft
Hath laid on you enforcement of your pangs?
What profits at the fays to but the horn?
Your Cerberus, if ye remember, hence
Bears still, peel'd of their hair, his throat and maw."
     This said, he turn'd back o'er the filthy way,
And syllable to us spake none, but wore
The semblance of a man by other care
Beset, and keenly press'd, than thought of him
Who in his presence stands.  Then we our steps
Toward that territory mov'd, secure
After the hallow'd words.  We unoppos'd
There enter'd; and my mind eager to learn
What state a fortress like to that might hold,
I soon as enter'd throw mine eye around,
And see on every part wide-stretching space
Replete with bitter pain and torment ill.
     As where Rhone stagnates on the plains of Arles,
Or as at Pola, near Quarnaro's gulf,
That closes Italy and laves her bounds,
The place is all thick spread with sepulchres;
So was it here, save what in horror here
Excell'd:  for 'midst the graves were scattered flames,
Wherewith intensely all throughout they burn'd,
That iron for no craft there hotter needs.
     Their lids all hung suspended, and beneath
From them forth issu'd lamentable moans,
Such as the sad and tortur'd well might raise.
     I thus:  "Master! say who are these, interr'd
Within these vaults, of whom distinct we hear
The dolorous sighs?"  He answer thus return'd:
     "The arch-heretics are here, accompanied
By every sect their followers; and much more,
Than thou believest, tombs are freighted:  like
With like is buried; and the monuments
Are different in degrees of heat. "This said,
He to the right hand turning, on we pass'd
Betwixt the afflicted and the ramparts high.
NOW by a secret pathway we proceed,
Between the walls, that hem the region round,
And the tormented souls:  my master first,
I close behind his steps.  "Virtue supreme!"
I thus began; "who through these ample orbs
In circuit lead'st me, even as thou will'st,
Speak thou, and satisfy my wish.  May those,
Who lie within these sepulchres, be seen?
Already all the lids are rais'd, and none
O'er them keeps watch."  He thus in answer spake
"They shall be closed all, what-time they here
From Josaphat return'd shall come, and bring
Their bodies, which above they now have left.
The cemetery on this part obtain
With Epicurus all his followers,
Who with the body make the spirit die.
Here therefore satisfaction shall be soon
Both to the question ask'd, and to the wish,
Which thou conceal'st in silence."  I replied:
"I keep not, guide belov'd! from thee my heart
Secreted, but to shun vain length of words,
A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself."
     "O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fire
Alive art passing, so discreet of speech!
Here please thee stay awhile. Thy utterance
Declares the place of thy nativity
To be that noble land, with which perchance
I too severely dealt."  Sudden that sound
Forth issu'd from a vault, whereat in fear
I somewhat closer to my leader's side
Approaching, he thus spake:  "What dost thou?  Turn.
Lo, Farinata, there! who hath himself
Uplifted:  from his girdle upwards all
Expos'd behold him."  On his face was mine
Already fix'd; his breast and forehead there
Erecting, seem'd as in high scorn he held
E'en hell.  Between the sepulchres to him
My guide thrust me with fearless hands and prompt,
This warning added:  "See thy words be clear!"
     He, soon as there I stood at the tomb's foot,
Ey'd me a space, then in disdainful mood
Address'd me:  "Say, what ancestors were thine?"
     I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'd
The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow
Somewhat uplifting, cried:  "Fiercely were they
Adverse to me, my party, and the blood
From whence I sprang:  twice therefore I abroad
Scatter'd them."  "Though driv'n out, yet they each time
From all parts," answer'd I, "return'd; an art
Which yours have shown, they are not skill'd to learn."
     Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,
Rose from his side a shade, high as the chin,
Leaning, methought, upon its knees uprais'd.
It look'd around, as eager to explore
If there were other with me; but perceiving
That fond imagination quench'd, with tears
Thus spake:  "If thou through this blind prison go'st.
Led by thy lofty genius and profound,
Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee?"
     I straight replied:  "Not of myself I come,
By him, who there expects me, through this clime
Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son
Had in contempt."  Already had his words
And mode of punishment read me his name,
Whence I so fully answer'd.  He at once
Exclaim'd, up starting, "How! said'st thou he HAD?
No longer lives he?  Strikes not on his eye
The blessed daylight?"  Then of some delay
I made ere my reply aware, down fell
Supine, not after forth appear'd he more.
     Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom
I yet was station'd, chang'd not count'nance stern,
Nor mov'd the neck, nor bent his ribbed side.
"And if," continuing the first discourse,
"They in this art," he cried, "small skill have shown,
That doth torment me more e'en than this bed.
But not yet fifty times shall be relum'd
Her aspect, who reigns here Queen of this realm,
Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art.
So to the pleasant world mayst thou return,
As thou shalt tell me, why in all their laws,
Against my kin this people is so fell?"
     "The slaughter and great havoc," I replied,
"That colour'd Arbia's flood with crimson stain--
To these impute, that in our hallow'd dome
Such orisons ascend."  Sighing he shook
The head, then thus resum'd:  "In that affray
I stood not singly, nor without just cause
Assuredly should with the rest have stirr'd;
But singly there I stood, when by consent
Of all, Florence had to the ground been raz'd,
The one who openly forbad the deed."
     "So may thy lineage find at last repose,"
I thus adjur'd him, "as thou solve this knot,
Which now involves my mind.  If right I hear,
Ye seem to view beforehand, that which time
Leads with him, of the present uninform'd."
     "We view, as one who hath an evil sight,"
He answer'd, "plainly, objects far remote:
So much of his large spendour yet imparts
The' Almighty Ruler; but when they approach
Or actually exist, our intellect
Then wholly fails, nor of your human state
Except what others bring us know we aught.
Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that all
Our knowledge in that instant shall expire,
When on futurity the portals close."
     Then conscious of my fault, and by remorse
Smitten, I added thus:  "Now shalt thou say
To him there fallen, that his offspring still
Is to the living join'd; and bid him know,
That if from answer silent I abstain'd,
'Twas that my thought was occupied intent
Upon that error, which thy help hath solv'd."
     But now my master summoning me back
I heard, and with more eager haste besought
The spirit to inform me, who with him
Partook his lot.  He answer thus return'd:
     "More than a thousand with me here are laid
Within is Frederick, second of that name,
And the Lord Cardinal, and of the rest
I speak not."  He, this said, from sight withdrew.
But I my steps towards the ancient bard
Reverting, ruminated on the words
Betokening me such ill.  Onward he mov'd,
And thus in going question'd:  "Whence the' amaze
That holds thy senses wrapt?"  I satisfied
The' inquiry, and the sage enjoin'd me straight:
"Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heard
To thee importing harm; and note thou this,"
With his rais'd finger bidding me take heed,
     "When thou shalt stand before her gracious beam,
Whose bright eye all surveys, she of thy life
The future tenour will to thee unfold."
     Forthwith he to the left hand turn'd his feet:
We left the wall, and tow'rds the middle space
Went by a path, that to a valley strikes;
Which e'en thus high exhal'd its noisome steam.
UPON the utmost verge of a high bank,
By craggy rocks environ'd round, we came,
Where woes beneath more cruel yet were stow'd:
And here to shun the horrible excess
Of fetid exhalation, upward cast
From the profound abyss, behind the lid
Of a great monument we stood retir'd,
Whereon this scroll I mark'd:  "I have in charge
Pope Anastasius, whom Photinus drew
From the right path.--Ere our descent behooves
We make delay, that somewhat first the sense,
To the dire breath accustom'd, afterward
Regard it not."  My master thus; to whom
Answering I spake:  "Some compensation find
That the time past not wholly lost."  He then:
"Lo! how my thoughts e'en to thy wishes tend!
My son! within these rocks," he thus began,
"Are three close circles in gradation plac'd,
As these which now thou leav'st. Each one is full
Of spirits accurs'd; but that the sight alone
Hereafter may suffice thee, listen how
And for what cause in durance they abide.
     "Of all malicious act abhorr'd in heaven,
The end is injury; and all such end
Either by force or fraud works other's woe
But fraud, because of man peculiar evil,
To God is more displeasing; and beneath
The fraudulent are therefore doom'd to' endure
Severer pang.  The violent occupy
All the first circle; and because to force
Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds
Hach within other sep'rate is it fram'd.
To God, his neighbour, and himself, by man
Force may be offer'd; to himself I say
And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hear
At full.  Death, violent death, and painful wounds
Upon his neighbour he inflicts; and wastes
By devastation, pillage, and the flames,
His substance.  Slayers, and each one that smites
In malice, plund'rers, and all robbers, hence
The torment undergo of the first round
In different herds.  Man can do violence
To himself and his own blessings:  and for this
He in the second round must aye deplore
With unavailing penitence his crime,
Whoe'er deprives himself of life and light,
In reckless lavishment his talent wastes,
And sorrows there where he should dwell in joy.
To God may force be offer'd, in the heart
Denying and blaspheming his high power,
And nature with her kindly law contemning.
And thence the inmost round marks with its seal
Sodom and Cahors, and all such as speak
Contemptuously' of the Godhead in their hearts.
     "Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting,
May be by man employ'd on one, whose trust
He wins, or on another who withholds
Strict confidence.  Seems as the latter way
Broke but the bond of love which Nature makes.
Whence in the second circle have their nest
Dissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries,
Theft, falsehood, simony, all who seduce
To lust, or set their honesty at pawn,
With such vile scum as these.  The other way
Forgets both Nature's general love, and that
Which thereto added afterwards gives birth
To special faith.  Whence in the lesser circle,
Point of the universe, dread seat of Dis,
The traitor is eternally consum'd."
     I thus:  "Instructor, clearly thy discourse
Proceeds, distinguishing the hideous chasm
And its inhabitants with skill exact.
But tell me this: they of the dull, fat pool,
Whom the rain beats, or whom the tempest drives,
Or who with tongues so fierce conflicting meet,
Wherefore within the city fire-illum'd
Are not these punish'd, if God's wrath be on them?
And if it be not, wherefore in such guise
Are they condemned?"  He answer thus return'd:
"Wherefore in dotage wanders thus thy mind,
Not so accustom'd? or what other thoughts
Possess it?  Dwell not in thy memory
The words, wherein thy ethic page describes
Three dispositions adverse to Heav'n's will,
Incont'nence, malice, and mad brutishness,
And how incontinence the least offends
God, and least guilt incurs?  If well thou note
This judgment, and remember who they are,
Without these walls to vain repentance doom'd,
Thou shalt discern why they apart are plac'd
From these fell spirits, and less wreakful pours
Justice divine on them its vengeance down."
     "O Sun! who healest all imperfect sight,
Thou so content'st me, when thou solv'st my doubt,
That ignorance not less than knowledge charms.
Yet somewhat turn thee back," I in these words
Continu'd, "where thou saidst, that usury
Offends celestial Goodness; and this knot
Perplex'd unravel."  He thus made reply:
"Philosophy, to an attentive ear,
Clearly points out, not in one part alone,
How imitative nature takes her course
From the celestial mind and from its art:
And where her laws the Stagyrite unfolds,
Not many leaves scann'd o'er, observing well
Thou shalt discover, that your art on her
Obsequious follows, as the learner treads
In his instructor's step, so that your art
Deserves the name of second in descent
From God.  These two, if thou recall to mind
Creation's holy book, from the beginning
Were the right source of life and excellence
To human kind.  But in another path
The usurer walks; and Nature in herself
And in her follower thus he sets at nought,
Placing elsewhere his hope.  But follow now
My steps on forward journey bent; for now
The Pisces play with undulating glance
Along the' horizon, and the Wain lies all
O'er the north-west; and onward there a space
Is our steep passage down the rocky height."
THE place where to descend the precipice
We came, was rough as Alp, and on its verge
Such object lay, as every eye would shun.
     As is that ruin, which Adice's stream
On this side Trento struck, should'ring the wave,
Or loos'd by earthquake or for lack of prop;
For from the mountain's summit, whence it mov'd
To the low level, so the headlong rock
Is shiver'd, that some passage it might give
To him who from above would pass; e'en such
Into the chasm was that descent: and there
At point of the disparted ridge lay stretch'd
The infamy of Crete, detested brood
Of the feign'd heifer:  and at sight of us
It gnaw'd itself, as one with rage distract.
To him my guide exclaim'd:  "Perchance thou deem'st
The King of Athens here, who, in the world
Above, thy death contriv'd.  Monster! avaunt!
He comes not tutor'd by thy sister's art,
But to behold your torments is he come."
     Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring
Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow
Hath struck him, but unable to proceed
Plunges on either side; so saw I plunge
The Minotaur; whereat the sage exclaim'd:
"Run to the passage! while he storms, 't is well
That thou descend."  Thus down our road we took
Through those dilapidated crags, that oft
Mov'd underneath my feet, to weight like theirs
Unus'd.  I pond'ring went, and thus he spake:
     "Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin'd steep,
Guarded by the brute violence, which I
Have vanquish'd now. Know then, that when I erst
Hither descended to the nether hell,
This rock was not yet fallen.  But past doubt
(If well I mark) not long ere He arrived,
Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil
Of the highest circle, then through all its bounds
Such trembling seiz'd the deep concave and foul,
I thought the universe was thrill'd with love,
Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oft
Been into chaos turn'd:  and in that point,
Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down.
But fix thine eyes beneath:  the river of blood
Approaches, in the which all those are steep'd,
Who have by violence injur'd."  O blind lust!
O foolish wrath! who so dost goad us on
In the brief life, and in the eternal then
Thus miserably o'erwhelm us.  I beheld
An ample foss, that in a bow was bent,
As circling all the plain; for so my guide
Had told.  Between it and the rampart's base
On trail ran Centaurs, with keen arrows arm'd,
As to the chase they on the earth were wont.
     At seeing us descend they each one stood;
And issuing from the troop, three sped with bows
And missile weapons chosen first; of whom
One cried from far:  "Say to what pain ye come
Condemn'd, who down this steep have journied?  Speak
From whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw."
     To whom my guide:  "Our answer shall be made
To Chiron, there, when nearer him we come.
Ill was thy mind, thus ever quick and rash."
     Then me he touch'd, and spake:  "Nessus is this,
Who for the fair Deianira died,
And wrought himself revenge for his own fate.
He in the midst, that on his breast looks down,
Is the great Chiron who Achilles nurs'd;
That other Pholus, prone to wrath."  Around
The foss these go by thousands, aiming shafts
At whatsoever spirit dares emerge
From out the blood, more than his guilt allows.
     We to those beasts, that rapid strode along,
Drew near, when Chiron took an arrow forth,
And with the notch push'd back his shaggy beard
To the cheek-bone, then his great mouth to view
Exposing, to his fellows thus exclaim'd:
"Are ye aware, that he who comes behind
Moves what he touches?  The feet of the dead
Are not so wont."  My trusty guide, who now
Stood near his breast, where the two natures join,
Thus made reply:  "He is indeed alive,
And solitary so must needs by me
Be shown the gloomy vale, thereto induc'd
By strict necessity, not by delight.
She left her joyful harpings in the sky,
Who this new office to my care consign'd.
He is no robber, no dark spirit I.
But by that virtue, which empowers my step
To treat so wild a path, grant us, I pray,
One of thy band, whom we may trust secure,
Who to the ford may lead us, and convey
Across, him mounted on his back; for he
Is not a spirit that may walk the air."
     Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thus
To Nessus spake:  "Return, and be their guide.
And if ye chance to cross another troop,
Command them keep aloof."  Onward we mov'd,
The faithful escort by our side, along
The border of the crimson-seething flood,
Whence from those steep'd within loud shrieks arose.
     Some there I mark'd, as high as to their brow
Immers'd, of whom the mighty Centaur thus:
"These are the souls of tyrants, who were given
To blood and rapine.  Here they wail aloud
Their merciless wrongs.  Here Alexander dwells,
And Dionysius fell, who many a year
Of woe wrought for fair Sicily.  That brow
Whereon the hair so jetty clust'ring hangs,
Is Azzolino; that with flaxen locks
Obizzo' of Este, in the world destroy'd
By his foul step-son."  To the bard rever'd
I turned me round, and thus he spake;  "Let him
Be to thee now first leader, me but next
To him in rank."  Then farther on a space
The Centaur paus'd, near some, who at the throat
Were extant from the wave; and showing us
A spirit by itself apart retir'd,
Exclaim'd:  "He in God's bosom smote the heart,
Which yet is honour'd on the bank of Thames."
     A race I next espied, who held the head,
And even all the bust above the stream.
'Midst these I many a face remember'd well.
Thus shallow more and more the blood became,
So that at last it but imbru'd the feet;
And there our passage lay athwart the foss.
     "As ever on this side the boiling wave
Thou seest diminishing," the Centaur said,
"So on the other, be thou well assur'd,
It lower still and lower sinks its bed,
Till in that part it reuniting join,
Where 't is the lot of tyranny to mourn.
There Heav'n's stern justice lays chastising hand
On Attila, who was the scourge of earth,
On Sextus, and on Pyrrhus, and extracts
Tears ever by the seething flood unlock'd
From the Rinieri, of Corneto this,
Pazzo the other nam'd, who fill'd the ways
With violence and war."  This said, he turn'd,
And quitting us, alone repass'd the ford.
ERE Nessus yet had reach'd the other bank,
We enter'd on a forest, where no track
Of steps had worn a way.  Not verdant there
The foliage, but of dusky hue; not light
The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform'd
And matted thick:  fruits there were none, but thorns
Instead, with venom fill'd. Less sharp than these,
Less intricate the brakes, wherein abide
Those animals, that hate the cultur'd fields,
Betwixt Corneto and Cecina's stream.
     Here the brute Harpies make their nest, the same
Who from the Strophades the Trojan band
Drove with dire boding of their future woe.
Broad are their pennons, of the human form
Their neck and count'nance, arm'd with talons keen
The feet, and the huge belly fledge with wings
These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood.
     The kind instructor in these words began:
"Ere farther thou proceed, know thou art now
I' th' second round, and shalt be, till thou come
Upon the horrid sand:  look therefore well
Around thee, and such things thou shalt behold,
As would my speech discredit."  On all sides
I heard sad plainings breathe, and none could see
From whom they might have issu'd.  In amaze
Fast bound I stood.  He, as it seem'd, believ'd,
That I had thought so many voices came
From some amid those thickets close conceal'd,
And thus his speech resum'd:  "If thou lop off
A single twig from one of those ill plants,
The thought thou hast conceiv'd shall vanish quite."
     Thereat a little stretching forth my hand,
From a great wilding gather'd I a branch,
And straight the trunk exclaim'd:  "Why pluck'st thou me?"
Then as the dark blood trickled down its side,
These words it added:  "Wherefore tear'st me thus?
Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast?
Men once were we, that now are rooted here.
Thy hand might well have spar'd us, had we been
The souls of serpents."  As a brand yet green,
That burning at one end from the' other sends
A groaning sound, and hisses with the wind
That forces out its way, so burst at once,
Forth from the broken splinter words and blood.
     I, letting fall the bough, remain'd as one
Assail'd by terror, and the sage replied:
"If he, O injur'd spirit! could have believ'd
What he hath seen but in my verse describ'd,
He never against thee had stretch'd his hand.
But I, because the thing surpass'd belief,
Prompted him to this deed, which even now
Myself I rue.  But tell me, who thou wast;
That, for this wrong to do thee some amends,
In the upper world (for thither to return
Is granted him) thy fame he may revive."
     "That pleasant word of thine," the trunk replied
"Hath so inveigled me, that I from speech
Cannot refrain, wherein if I indulge
A little longer, in the snare detain'd,
Count it not grievous.  I it was, who held
Both keys to Frederick's heart, and turn'd the wards,
Opening and shutting, with a skill so sweet,
That besides me, into his inmost breast
Scarce any other could admittance find.
The faith I bore to my high charge was such,
It cost me the life-blood that warm'd my veins.
The harlot, who ne'er turn'd her gloating eyes
From Caesar's household, common vice and pest
Of courts, 'gainst me inflam'd the minds of all;
And to Augustus they so spread the flame,
That my glad honours chang'd to bitter woes.
My soul, disdainful and disgusted, sought
Refuge in death from scorn, and I became,
Just as I was, unjust toward myself.
By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear,
That never faith I broke to my liege lord,
Who merited such honour; and of you,
If any to the world indeed return,
Clear he from wrong my memory, that lies
Yet prostrate under envy's cruel blow."
     First somewhat pausing, till the mournful words
Were ended, then to me the bard began:
"Lose not the time; but speak and of him ask,
If more thou wish to learn."  Whence I replied:
"Question thou him again of whatsoe'er
Will, as thou think'st, content me; for no power
Have I to ask, such pity' is at my heart."
     He thus resum'd;  "So may he do for thee
Freely what thou entreatest, as thou yet
Be pleas'd, imprison'd Spirit! to declare,
How in these gnarled joints the soul is tied;
And whether any ever from such frame
Be loosen'd, if thou canst, that also tell."
     Thereat the trunk breath'd hard, and the wind soon
Chang'd into sounds articulate like these;
     Briefly ye shall be answer'd.  When departs
The fierce soul from the body, by itself
Thence torn asunder, to the seventh gulf
By Minos doom'd, into the wood it falls,
No place assign'd, but wheresoever chance
Hurls it, there sprouting, as a grain of spelt,
It rises to a sapling, growing thence
A savage plant.  The Harpies, on its leaves
Then feeding, cause both pain and for the pain
A vent to grief.  We, as the rest, shall come
For our own spoils, yet not so that with them
We may again be clad; for what a man
Takes from himself it is not just he have.
Here we perforce shall drag them; and throughout
The dismal glade our bodies shall be hung,
Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade."
     Attentive yet to listen to the trunk
We stood, expecting farther speech, when us
A noise surpris'd, as when a man perceives
The wild boar and the hunt approach his place
Of station'd watch, who of the beasts and boughs
Loud rustling round him hears.  And lo! there came
Two naked, torn with briers, in headlong flight,
That they before them broke each fan o' th' wood.
"Haste now," the foremost cried, "now haste thee death!"
The' other, as seem'd, impatient of delay
Exclaiming, "Lano! not so bent for speed
Thy sinews, in the lists of Toppo's field."
And then, for that perchance no longer breath
Suffic'd him, of himself and of a bush
One group he made.  Behind them was the wood
Full of black female mastiffs, gaunt and fleet,
As greyhounds that have newly slipp'd the leash.
On him, who squatted down, they stuck their fangs,
And having rent him piecemeal bore away
The tortur'd limbs.  My guide then seiz'd my hand,
And led me to the thicket, which in vain
Mourn'd through its bleeding wounds:  "O Giacomo
Of Sant' Andrea! what avails it thee,"
It cried, "that of me thou hast made thy screen?
For thy ill life what blame on me recoils?"
     When o'er it he had paus'd, my master spake:
"Say who wast thou, that at so many points
Breath'st out with blood thy lamentable speech?"
     He answer'd: "Oh, ye spirits:  arriv'd in time
To spy the shameful havoc, that from me
My leaves hath sever'd thus, gather them up,
And at the foot of their sad parent-tree
Carefully lay them.  In that city' I dwelt,
Who for the Baptist her first patron chang'd,
Whence he for this shall cease not with his art
To work her woe:  and if there still remain'd not
On Arno's passage some faint glimpse of him,
Those citizens, who rear'd once more her walls
Upon the ashes left by Attila,
Had labour'd without profit of their toil.
I slung the fatal noose from my own roof."
SOON as the charity of native land
Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves
Collected, and to him restor'd, who now
Was hoarse with utt'rance.  To the limit thence
We came, which from the third the second round
Divides, and where of justice is display'd
Contrivance horrible.  Things then first seen
Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next
A plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bed
Each plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves round
Its garland on all sides, as round the wood
Spreads the sad foss.  There, on the very edge,
Our steps we stay'd.  It was an area wide
Of arid sand and thick, resembling most
The soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod.
     Vengeance of Heav'n! Oh ! how shouldst thou be fear'd
By all, who read what here my eyes beheld!
     Of naked spirits many a flock I saw,
All weeping piteously, to different laws
Subjected:  for on the' earth some lay supine,
Some crouching close were seated, others pac'd
Incessantly around; the latter tribe,
More numerous, those fewer who beneath
The torment lay, but louder in their grief.
     O'er all the sand fell slowly wafting down
Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow
On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush'd.
As in the torrid Indian clime, the son
Of Ammon saw upon his warrior band
Descending, solid flames, that to the ground
Came down:  whence he bethought him with his troop
To trample on the soil; for easier thus
The vapour was extinguish'd, while alone;
So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith
The marble glow'd underneath, as under stove
The viands, doubly to augment the pain.
Unceasing was the play of wretched hands,
Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off
The heat, still falling fresh.  I thus began:
"Instructor! thou who all things overcom'st,
Except the hardy demons, that rush'd forth
To stop our entrance at the gate, say who
Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not
The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn,
As by the sultry tempest immatur'd?"
     Straight he himself, who was aware I ask'd
My guide of him, exclaim'd:  "Such as I was
When living, dead such now I am.  If Jove
Weary his workman out, from whom in ire
He snatch'd the lightnings, that at my last day
Transfix'd me, if the rest be weary out
At their black smithy labouring by turns
In Mongibello, while he cries aloud;
"Help, help, good Mulciber!" as erst he cried
In the Phlegraean warfare, and the bolts
Launch he full aim'd at me with all his might,
He never should enjoy a sweet revenge."
     Then thus my guide, in accent higher rais'd
Than I before had heard him:  "Capaneus!
Thou art more punish'd, in that this thy pride
Lives yet unquench'd:  no torrent, save thy rage,
Were to thy fury pain proportion'd full."
     Next turning round to me with milder lip
He spake:  "This of the seven kings was one,
Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held,
As still he seems to hold, God in disdain,
And sets his high omnipotence at nought.
But, as I told him, his despiteful mood
Is ornament well suits the breast that wears it.
Follow me now; and look thou set not yet
Thy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood
Keep ever close."  Silently on we pass'd
To where there gushes from the forest's bound
A little brook, whose crimson'd wave yet lifts
My hair with horror.  As the rill, that runs
From Bulicame, to be portion'd out
Among the sinful women; so ran this
Down through the sand, its bottom and each bank
Stone-built, and either margin at its side,
Whereon I straight perceiv'd our passage lay.
     "Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate
We enter'd first, whose threshold is to none
Denied, nought else so worthy of regard,
As is this river, has thine eye discern'd,
O'er which the flaming volley all is quench'd."
     So spake my guide; and I him thence besought,
That having giv'n me appetite to know,
The food he too would give, that hunger crav'd.
     "In midst of ocean," forthwith he began,
"A desolate country lies, which Crete is nam'd,
Under whose monarch in old times the world
Liv'd pure and chaste.  A mountain rises there,
Call'd Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams,
Deserted now like a forbidden thing.
It was the spot which Rhea, Saturn's spouse,
Chose for the secret cradle of her son;
And better to conceal him, drown'd in shouts
His infant cries.  Within the mount, upright
An ancient form there stands and huge, that turns
His shoulders towards Damiata, and at Rome
As in his mirror looks.  Of finest gold
His head is shap'd, pure silver are the breast
And arms; thence to the middle is of brass.
And downward all beneath well-temper'd steel,
Save the right foot of potter's clay, on which
Than on the other more erect he stands,
Each part except the gold, is rent throughout;
And from the fissure tears distil, which join'd
Penetrate to that cave.  They in their course
Thus far precipitated down the rock
Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon;
Then by this straiten'd channel passing hence
Beneath, e'en to the lowest depth of all,
Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself
Shall see it) I here give thee no account."
     Then I to him:  "If from our world this sluice
Be thus deriv'd; wherefore to us but now
Appears it at this edge?"  He straight replied:
"The place, thou know'st, is round; and though great part
Thou have already pass'd, still to the left
Descending to the nethermost, not yet
Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb.
Wherefore if aught of new to us appear,
It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks."
     Then I again inquir'd:  "Where flow the streams
Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one
Thou tell'st not, and the other of that shower,
Thou say'st, is form'd."  He answer thus return'd:
"Doubtless thy questions all well pleas'd I hear.
Yet the red seething wave might have resolv'd
One thou proposest.  Lethe thou shalt see,
But not within this hollow, in the place,
Whither to lave themselves the spirits go,
Whose blame hath been by penitence remov'd."
He added:  "Time is now we quit the wood.
Look thou my steps pursue:  the margins give
Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames;
For over them all vapour is extinct."
One of the solid margins bears us now
Envelop'd in the mist, that from the stream
Arising, hovers o'er, and saves from fire
Both piers and water.  As the Flemings rear
Their mound, 'twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase back
The ocean, fearing his tumultuous tide
That drives toward them, or the Paduans theirs
Along the Brenta, to defend their towns
And castles, ere the genial warmth be felt
On Chiarentana's top; such were the mounds,
So fram'd, though not in height or bulk to these
Made equal, by the master, whosoe'er
He was, that rais'd them here.  We from the wood
Were not so far remov'd, that turning round
I might not have discern'd it, when we met
A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier.
     They each one ey'd us, as at eventide
One eyes another under a new moon,
And toward us sharpen'd their sight as keen,
As an old tailor at his needle's eye.
     Thus narrowly explor'd by all the tribe,
I was agniz'd of one, who by the skirt
Caught me, and cried, "What wonder have we here!"
     And I, when he to me outstretch'd his arm,
Intently fix'd my ken on his parch'd looks,
That although smirch'd with fire, they hinder'd not
But I remember'd him; and towards his face
My hand inclining, answer'd:  "Sir! Brunetto!
And art thou here?"  He thus to me:  "My son!
Oh let it not displease thee, if Brunetto
Latini but a little space with thee
Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed."
     I thus to him replied:  "Much as I can,
I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willing,
That I here seat me with thee, I consent;
His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain'd."
     "O son!" said he, " whoever of this throng
One instant stops, lies then a hundred years,
No fan to ventilate him, when the fire
Smites sorest.  Pass thou therefore on.  I close
Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin
My troop, who go mourning their endless doom."
     I dar'd not from the path descend to tread
On equal ground with him, but held my head
Bent down, as one who walks in reverent guise.
     "What chance or destiny," thus be began,
"Ere the last day conducts thee here below?
And who is this, that shows to thee the way?"
     "There up aloft," I answer'd, "in the life
Serene, I wander'd in a valley lost,
Before mine age had to its fullness reach'd.
But yester-morn I left it:  then once more
Into that vale returning, him I met;
And by this path homeward he leads me back."
     "If thou," he answer'd, "follow but thy star,
Thou canst not miss at last a glorious haven:
Unless in fairer days my judgment err'd.
And if my fate so early had not chanc'd,
Seeing the heav'ns thus bounteous to thee, I
Had gladly giv'n thee comfort in thy work.
But that ungrateful and malignant race,
Who in old times came down from Fesole,
Ay and still smack of their rough mountain-flint,
Will for thy good deeds shew thee enmity.
Nor wonder; for amongst ill-savour'd crabs
It suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit.
Old fame reports them in the world for blind,
Covetous, envious, proud.  Look to it well:
Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways.  For thee
Thy fortune hath such honour in reserve,
That thou by either party shalt be crav'd
With hunger keen:  but be the fresh herb far
From the goat's tooth.  The herd of Fesole
May of themselves make litter, not touch the plant,
If any such yet spring on their rank bed,
In which the holy seed revives, transmitted
From those true Romans, who still there remain'd,
When it was made the nest of so much ill."
     "Were all my wish fulfill'd," I straight replied,
"Thou from the confines of man's nature yet
Hadst not been driven forth; for in my mind
Is fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart
The dear, benign, paternal image, such
As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me
The way for man to win eternity;
And how I priz'd the lesson, it behooves,
That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak,
What of my fate thou tell'st, that write I down:
And with another text to comment on
For her I keep it, the celestial dame,
Who will know all, if I to her arrive.
This only would I have thee clearly note:
That so my conscience have no plea against me;
Do fortune as she list, I stand prepar'd.
Not new or strange such earnest to mine ear.
Speed fortune then her wheel, as likes her best,
The clown his mattock; all things have their course."
     Thereat my sapient guide upon his right
Turn'd himself back, then look'd at me and spake:
"He listens to good purpose who takes note."
     I not the less still on my way proceed,
Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquire
Who are most known and chief among his tribe.
     "To know of some is well;" thus he replied,
"But of the rest silence may best beseem.
Time would not serve us for report so long.
In brief I tell thee, that all these were clerks,
Men of great learning and no less renown,
By one same sin polluted in the world.
With them is Priscian, and Accorso's son
Francesco herds among that wretched throng:
And, if the wish of so impure a blotch
Possess'd thee, him thou also might'st have seen,
Who by the servants' servant was transferr'd
From Arno's seat to Bacchiglione, where
His ill-strain'd nerves he left.  I more would add,
But must from farther speech and onward way
Alike desist, for yonder I behold
A mist new-risen on the sandy plain.
A company, with whom I may not sort,
Approaches.  I commend my TREASURE to thee,
Wherein I yet survive; my sole request."
     This said he turn'd, and seem'd as one of those,
Who o'er Verona's champain try their speed
For the green mantle, and of them he seem'd,
Not he who loses but who gains the prize.
NOW came I where the water's din was heard,
As down it fell into the other round,
Resounding like the hum of swarming bees:
When forth together issu'd from a troop,
That pass'd beneath the fierce tormenting storm,
Three spirits, running swift.  They towards us came,
And each one cried aloud, "Oh do thou stay!
Whom by the fashion of thy garb we deem
To be some inmate of our evil land."
     Ah me! what wounds I mark'd upon their limbs,
Recent and old, inflicted by the flames!
E'en the remembrance of them grieves me yet.
     Attentive to their cry my teacher paus'd,
And turn'd to me his visage, and then spake;
"Wait now! our courtesy these merit well:
And were 't not for the nature of the place,
Whence glide the fiery darts, I should have said,
That haste had better suited thee than them.''
     They, when we stopp'd, resum'd their ancient wail,
And soon as they had reach'd us, all the three
Whirl'd round together in one restless wheel.
As naked champions, smear'd with slippery oil,
Are wont intent to watch their place of hold
And vantage, ere in closer strife they meet;
Thus each one, as he wheel'd, his countenance
At me directed, so that opposite
The neck mov'd ever to the twinkling feet.
     "If misery of this drear wilderness,"
Thus one began, "added to our sad cheer
And destitute, do call forth scorn on us
And our entreaties, let our great renown
Incline thee to inform us who thou art,
That dost imprint with living feet unharm'd
The soil of Hell.  He, in whose track thou see'st
My steps pursuing, naked though he be
And reft of all, was of more high estate
Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste
Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call'd,
Who in his lifetime many a noble act
Achiev'd, both by his wisdom and his sword.
The other, next to me that beats the sand,
Is Aldobrandi, name deserving well,
In the' upper world, of honour; and myself
Who in this torment do partake with them,
Am Rusticucci, whom, past doubt, my wife
Of savage temper, more than aught beside
Hath to this evil brought."  If from the fire
I had been shelter'd, down amidst them straight
I then had cast me, nor my guide, I deem,
Would have restrain'd my going; but that fear
Of the dire burning vanquish'd the desire,
Which made me eager of their wish'd embrace.
     I then began:  "Not scorn, but grief much more,
Such as long time alone can cure, your doom
Fix'd deep within me, soon as this my lord
Spake words, whose tenour taught me to expect
That such a race, as ye are, was at hand.
I am a countryman of yours, who still
Affectionate have utter'd, and have heard
Your deeds and names renown'd.  Leaving the gall
For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guide
Hath promis'd to me.  But behooves, that far
As to the centre first I downward tend."
     "So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs,"
He answer straight return'd; "and so thy fame
Shine bright, when thou art gone; as thou shalt tell,
If courtesy and valour, as they wont,
Dwell in our city, or have vanish'd clean?
For one amidst us late condemn'd to wail,
Borsiere, yonder walking with his peers,
Grieves us no little by the news he brings."
     "An upstart multitude and sudden gains,
Pride and excess, O Florence! have in thee
Engender'd, so that now in tears thou mourn'st!"
Thus cried I with my face uprais'd, and they
All three, who for an answer took my words,
Look'd at each other, as men look when truth
Comes to their ear.  "If thou at other times,"
They all at once rejoin'd, "so easily
Satisfy those, who question, happy thou,
Gifted with words, so apt to speak thy thought!
Wherefore if thou escape this darksome clime,
Returning to behold the radiant stars,
When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past,
See that of us thou speak among mankind."
     This said, they broke the circle, and so swift
Fled, that as pinions seem'd their nimble feet.
     Not in so short a time might one have said
"Amen," as they had vanish'd. Straight my guide
Pursu'd his track.  I follow'd; and small space
Had we pass'd onward, when the water's sound
Was now so near at hand, that we had scarce
Heard one another's speech for the loud din.
     E'en as the river, that holds on its course
Unmingled, from the mount of Vesulo,
On the left side of Apennine, toward
The east, which Acquacheta higher up
They call, ere it descend into the vale,
At Forli by that name no longer known,
Rebellows o'er Saint Benedict, roll'd on
From the' Alpine summit down a precipice,
Where space enough to lodge a thousand spreads;
Thus downward from a craggy steep we found,
That this dark wave resounded, roaring loud,
So that the ear its clamour soon had stunn'd.
     I had a cord that brac'd my girdle round,
Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take
The painted leopard.  This when I had all
Unloosen'd from me (so my master bade)
I gather'd up, and stretch'd it forth to him.
Then to the right he turn'd, and from the brink
Standing few paces distant, cast it down
Into the deep abyss.  "And somewhat strange,"
Thus to myself I spake, "signal so strange
Betokens, which my guide with earnest eye
Thus follows."  Ah! what caution must men use
With those who look not at the deed alone,
But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill!
     "Quickly shall come," he said, "what I expect,
Thine eye discover quickly, that whereof
Thy thought is dreaming."  Ever to that truth,
Which but the semblance of a falsehood wears,
A man, if possible, should bar his lip;
Since, although blameless, he incurs reproach.
But silence here were vain; and by these notes
Which now I sing, reader!  I swear to thee,
So may they favour find to latest times!
That through the gross and murky air I spied
A shape come swimming up, that might have quell'd
The stoutest heart with wonder, in such guise
As one returns, who hath been down to loose
An anchor grappled fast against some rock,
Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies,
Who upward springing close draws in his feet.
"LO! the fell monster with the deadly sting!
Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls
And firm embattled spears, and with his filth
Taints all the world!"  Thus me my guide address'd,
And beckon'd him, that he should come to shore,
Near to the stony causeway's utmost edge.
     Forthwith that image vile of fraud appear'd,
His head and upper part expos'd on land,
But laid not on the shore his bestial train.
His face the semblance of a just man's wore,
So kind and gracious was its outward cheer;
The rest was serpent all:  two shaggy claws
Reach'd to the armpits, and the back and breast,
And either side, were painted o'er with nodes
And orbits.  Colours variegated more
Nor Turks nor Tartars e'er on cloth of state
With interchangeable embroidery wove,
Nor spread Arachne o'er her curious loom.
As ofttimes a light skiff, moor'd to the shore,
Stands part in water, part upon the land;
Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor,
The beaver settles watching for his prey;
So on the rim, that fenc'd the sand with rock,
Sat perch'd the fiend of evil.  In the void
Glancing, his tail upturn'd its venomous fork,
With sting like scorpion's arm'd.  Then thus my guide:
"Now need our way must turn few steps apart,
Far as to that ill beast, who couches there."
     Thereat toward the right our downward course
We shap'd, and, better to escape the flame
And burning marle, ten paces on the verge
Proceeded.  Soon as we to him arrive,
A little further on mine eye beholds
A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand
Near the wide chasm.  Forthwith my master spake:
"That to the full thy knowledge may extend
Of all this round contains, go now, and mark
The mien these wear:  but hold not long discourse.
Till thou returnest, I with him meantime
Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe
The aid of his strong shoulders."  Thus alone
Yet forward on the' extremity I pac'd
Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe
Were seated.  At the eyes forth gush'd their pangs.
Against the vapours and the torrid soil
Alternately their shifting hands they plied.
Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply
Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore
By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round.
     Noting the visages of some, who lay
Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire,
One of them all I knew not; but perceiv'd,
That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch
With colours and with emblems various mark'd,
On which it seem'd as if their eye did feed.
     And when amongst them looking round I came,
A yellow purse I saw with azure wrought,
That wore a lion's countenance and port.
Then still my sight pursuing its career,
Another I beheld, than blood more red.
A goose display of whiter wing than curd.
And one, who bore a fat and azure swine
Pictur'd on his white scrip, addressed me thus:
"What dost thou in this deep?  Go now and know,
Since yet thou livest, that my neighbour here
Vitaliano on my left shall sit.
A Paduan with these Florentines am I.
Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming
"O haste that noble knight! he who the pouch
With the three beaks will bring!"  This said, he writh'd
The mouth, and loll'd the tongue out, like an ox
That licks his nostrils.  I, lest longer stay
He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long,
Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn'd.
     My guide already seated on the haunch
Of the fierce animal I found; and thus
He me encourag'd.  "Be thou stout; be bold.
Down such a steep flight must we now descend!
Mount thou before:  for that no power the tail
May have to harm thee, I will be i' th' midst."
     As one, who hath an ague fit so near,
His nails already are turn'd blue, and he
Quivers all o'er, if he but eye the shade;
Such was my cheer at hearing of his words.
But shame soon interpos'd her threat, who makes
The servant bold in presence of his lord.
     I settled me upon those shoulders huge,
And would have said, but that the words to aid
My purpose came not, "Look thou clasp me firm!"
     But he whose succour then not first I prov'd,
Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft,
Embracing, held me up, and thus he spake:
"Geryon! now move thee! be thy wheeling gyres
Of ample circuit, easy thy descent.
Think on th' unusual burden thou sustain'st."
     As a small vessel, back'ning out from land,
Her station quits; so thence the monster loos'd,
And when he felt himself at large, turn'd round
There where the breast had been, his forked tail.
Thus, like an eel, outstretch'd at length he steer'd,
Gath'ring the air up with retractile claws.
     Not greater was the dread when Phaeton
The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven,
Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames;
Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceiv'd,
By liquefaction of the scalded wax,
The trusted pennons loosen'd from his loins,
His sire exclaiming loud, "Ill way thou keep'st!"
Than was my dread, when round me on each part
The air I view'd, and other object none
Save the fell beast.  He slowly sailing, wheels
His downward motion, unobserv'd of me,
But that the wind, arising to my face,
Breathes on me from below.  Now on our right
I heard the cataract beneath us leap
With hideous crash; whence bending down to' explore,
New terror I conceiv'd at the steep plunge:
For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear:
So that all trembling close I crouch'd my limbs,
And then distinguish'd, unperceiv'd before,
By the dread torments that on every side
Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound.
     As falcon, that hath long been on the wing,
But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despair
The falconer cries, "Ah me! thou stoop'st to earth!"
Wearied descends, and swiftly down the sky
In many an orbit wheels, then lighting sits
At distance from his lord in angry mood;
So Geryon lighting places us on foot
Low down at base of the deep-furrow'd rock,
And, of his burden there discharg'd, forthwith
Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string.
THERE is a place within the depths of hell
Call'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'd
With hue ferruginous, e'en as the steep
That round it circling winds.  Right in the midst
Of that abominable region, yawns
A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame
Due time shall tell.  The circle, that remains,
Throughout its round, between the gulf and base
Of the high craggy banks, successive forms
Ten trenches, in its hollow bottom sunk.
     As where to guard the walls, full many a foss
Begirds some stately castle, sure defence
Affording to the space within, so here
Were model'd these; and as like fortresses
E'en from their threshold to the brink without,
Are flank'd with bridges; from the rock's low base
Thus flinty paths advanc'd, that 'cross the moles
And dikes, struck onward far as to the gulf,
That in one bound collected cuts them off.
Such was the place, wherein we found ourselves
From Geryon's back dislodg'd. The bard to left
Held on his way, and I behind him mov'd.
     On our right hand new misery I saw,
New pains, new executioners of wrath,
That swarming peopled the first chasm.  Below
Were naked sinners.  Hitherward they came,
Meeting our faces from the middle point,
With us beyond but with a larger stride.
E'en thus the Romans, when the year returns
Of Jubilee, with better speed to rid
The thronging multitudes, their means devise
For such as pass the bridge; that on one side
All front toward the castle, and approach
Saint Peter's fane, on th' other towards the mount.
     Each divers way along the grisly rock,
Horn'd demons I beheld, with lashes huge,
That on their back unmercifully smote.
Ah! how they made them bound at the first stripe!
None for the second waited nor the third.
     Meantime as on I pass'd, one met my sight
Whom soon as view'd; "Of him," cried I, "not yet
Mine eye hath had his fill."  With fixed gaze
I therefore scann'd him.  Straight the teacher kind
Paus'd with me, and consented I should walk
Backward a space, and the tormented spirit,
Who thought to hide him, bent his visage down.
But it avail'd him nought; for I exclaim'd:
"Thou who dost cast thy eye upon the ground,
Unless thy features do belie thee much,
Venedico art thou.  But what brings thee
Into this bitter seas'ning? " He replied:
"Unwillingly I answer to thy words.
But thy clear speech, that to my mind recalls
The world I once inhabited, constrains me.
Know then 'twas I who led fair Ghisola
To do the Marquis' will, however fame
The shameful tale have bruited.  Nor alone
Bologna hither sendeth me to mourn
Rather with us the place is so o'erthrong'd
That not so many tongues this day are taught,
Betwixt the Reno and Savena's stream,
To answer SIPA in their country's phrase.
And if of that securer proof thou need,
Remember but our craving thirst for gold."
     Him speaking thus, a demon with his thong
Struck, and exclaim'd, "Away! corrupter! here
Women are none for sale."  Forthwith I join'd
My escort, and few paces thence we came
To where a rock forth issued from the bank.
That easily ascended, to the right
Upon its splinter turning, we depart
From those eternal barriers. When arriv'd,
Where underneath the gaping arch lets pass
The scourged souls:  "Pause here," the teacher said,
"And let these others miserable, now
Strike on thy ken, faces not yet beheld,
For that together they with us have walk'd."
     From the old bridge we ey'd the pack, who came
From th' other side towards us, like the rest,
Excoriate from the lash.  My gentle guide,
By me unquestion'd, thus his speech resum'd:
"Behold that lofty shade, who this way tends,
And seems too woe-begone to drop a tear.
How yet the regal aspect he retains!
Jason is he, whose skill and prowess won
The ram from Colchos. To the Lemnian isle
His passage thither led him, when those bold
And pitiless women had slain all their males.
There he with tokens and fair witching words
Hypsipyle beguil'd, a virgin young,
Who first had all the rest herself beguil'd.
Impregnated he left her there forlorn.
Such is the guilt condemns him to this pain.
Here too Medea's inj'ries are avenged.
All bear him company, who like deceit
To his have practis'd.  And thus much to know
Of the first vale suffice thee, and of those
Whom its keen torments urge."  Now had we come
Where, crossing the next pier, the straighten'd path
Bestrides its shoulders to another arch.
     Hence in the second chasm we heard the ghosts,
Who jibber in low melancholy sounds,
With wide-stretch'd nostrils snort, and on themselves
Smite with their palms.  Upon the banks a scurf
From the foul steam condens'd, encrusting hung,
That held sharp combat with the sight and smell.
     So hollow is the depth, that from no part,
Save on the summit of the rocky span,
Could I distinguish aught.  Thus far we came;
And thence I saw, within the foss below,
A crowd immers'd in ordure, that appear'd
Draff of the human body.  There beneath
Searching with eye inquisitive, I mark'd
One with his head so grim'd, 't were hard to deem,
If he were clerk or layman.  Loud he cried:
"Why greedily thus bendest more on me,
Than on these other filthy ones, thy ken?"
     "Because if true my mem'ry," I replied,
"I heretofore have seen thee with dry locks,
And thou Alessio art of Lucca sprung.
Therefore than all the rest I scan thee more."
     Then beating on his brain these words he spake:
"Me thus low down my flatteries have sunk,
Wherewith I ne'er enough could glut my tongue."
     My leader thus:  "A little further stretch
Thy face, that thou the visage well mayst note
Of that besotted, sluttish courtezan,
Who there doth rend her with defiled nails,
Now crouching down, now risen on her feet.
Thais is this, the harlot, whose false lip
Answer'd her doting paramour that ask'd,
'Thankest me much!'--'Say rather wondrously,'
And seeing this here satiate be our view."
WOE to thee, Simon Magus! woe to you,
His wretched followers! who the things of God,
Which should be wedded unto goodness, them,
Rapacious as ye are, do prostitute
For gold and silver in adultery!
Now must the trumpet sound for you, since yours
Is the third chasm.  Upon the following vault
We now had mounted, where the rock impends
Directly o'er the centre of the foss.
     Wisdom Supreme! how wonderful the art,
Which thou dost manifest in heaven, in earth,
And in the evil world, how just a meed
Allotting by thy virtue unto all!
     I saw the livid stone, throughout the sides
And in its bottom full of apertures,
All equal in their width, and circular each,
Nor ample less nor larger they appear'd
Than in Saint John's fair dome of me belov'd
Those fram'd to hold the pure baptismal streams,
One of the which I brake, some few years past,
To save a whelming infant; and be this
A seal to undeceive whoever doubts
The motive of my deed.  From out the mouth
Of every one, emerg'd a sinner's feet
And of the legs high upward as the calf
The rest beneath was hid.  On either foot
The soles were burning, whence the flexile joints
Glanc'd with such violent motion, as had snapt
Asunder cords or twisted withs.  As flame,
Feeding on unctuous matter, glides along
The surface, scarcely touching where it moves;
So here, from heel to point, glided the flames.
     "Master! say who is he, than all the rest
Glancing in fiercer agony, on whom
A ruddier flame doth prey?"  I thus inquir'd.
     "If thou be willing," he replied, "that I
Carry thee down, where least the slope bank falls,
He of himself shall tell thee and his wrongs."
     I then:  "As pleases thee to me is best.
Thou art my lord; and know'st that ne'er I quit
Thy will:  what silence hides that knowest thou."
Thereat on the fourth pier we came, we turn'd,
And on our left descended to the depth,
A narrow strait and perforated close.
Nor from his side my leader set me down,
Till to his orifice he brought, whose limb
Quiv'ring express'd his pang.  "Whoe'er thou art,
Sad spirit! thus revers'd, and as a stake
Driv'n in the soil!"  I in these words began,
"If thou be able, utter forth thy voice."
     There stood I like the friar, that doth shrive
A wretch for murder doom'd, who e'en when fix'd,
Calleth him back, whence death awhile delays.
     He shouted:  "Ha! already standest there?
Already standest there, O Boniface!
By many a year the writing play'd me false.
So early dost thou surfeit with the wealth,
For which thou fearedst not in guile to take
The lovely lady, and then mangle her?"
     I felt as those who, piercing not the drift
Of answer made them, stand as if expos'd
In mockery, nor know what to reply,
When Virgil thus admonish'd:  "Tell him quick,
I am not he, not he, whom thou believ'st."
     And I, as was enjoin'd me, straight replied.
     That heard, the spirit all did wrench his feet,
And sighing next in woeful accent spake:
"What then of me requirest?"  If to know
So much imports thee, who I am, that thou
Hast therefore down the bank descended, learn
That in the mighty mantle I was rob'd,
And of a she-bear was indeed the son,
So eager to advance my whelps, that there
My having in my purse above I stow'd,
And here myself.  Under my head are dragg'd
The rest, my predecessors in the guilt
Of simony.  Stretch'd at their length they lie
Along an opening in the rock.  'Midst them
I also low shall fall, soon as he comes,
For whom I took thee, when so hastily
I question'd.  But already longer time
Hath pass'd, since my souls kindled, and I thus
Upturn'd have stood, than is his doom to stand
Planted with fiery feet.  For after him,
One yet of deeds more ugly shall arrive,
From forth the west, a shepherd without law,
Fated to cover both his form and mine.
He a new Jason shall be call'd, of whom
In Maccabees we read; and favour such
As to that priest his king indulgent show'd,
Shall be of France's monarch shown to him."
     I know not if I here too far presum'd,
But in this strain I answer'd:  "Tell me now,
What treasures from St. Peter at the first
Our Lord demanded, when he put the keys
Into his charge?  Surely he ask'd no more
But, Follow me!  Nor Peter nor the rest
Or gold or silver of Matthias took,
When lots were cast upon the forfeit place
Of the condemned soul.  Abide thou then;
Thy punishment of right is merited:
And look thou well to that ill-gotten coin,
Which against Charles thy hardihood inspir'd.
If reverence of the keys restrain'd me not,
Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yet
Severer speech might use.  Your avarice
O'ercasts the world with mourning, under foot
Treading the good, and raising bad men up.
Of shepherds, like to you, th' Evangelist
Was ware, when her, who sits upon the waves,
With kings in filthy whoredom he beheld,
She who with seven heads tower'd at her birth,
And from ten horns her proof of glory drew,
Long as her spouse in virtue took delight.
Of gold and silver ye have made your god,
Diff'ring wherein from the idolater,
But he that worships one, a hundred ye?
Ah, Constantine! to how much ill gave birth,
Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower,
Which the first wealthy Father gain'd from thee!"
     Meanwhile, as thus I sung, he, whether wrath
Or conscience smote him, violent upsprang
Spinning on either sole.  I do believe
My teacher well was pleas'd, with so compos'd
A lip, he listen'd ever to the sound
Of the true words I utter'd.  In both arms
He caught, and to his bosom lifting me
Upward retrac'd the way of his descent.
     Nor weary of his weight he press'd me close,
Till to the summit of the rock we came,
Our passage from the fourth to the fifth pier.
His cherish'd burden there gently he plac'd
Upon the rugged rock and steep, a path
Not easy for the clamb'ring goat to mount.
     Thence to my view another vale appear'd
AND now the verse proceeds to torments new,
Fit argument of this the twentieth strain
Of the first song, whose awful theme records
The spirits whelm'd in woe.  Earnest I look'd
Into the depth, that open'd to my view,
Moisten'd with tears of anguish, and beheld
A tribe, that came along the hollow vale,
In silence weeping:  such their step as walk
Quires chanting solemn litanies on earth.
     As on them more direct mine eye descends,
Each wondrously seem'd to be revers'd
At the neck-bone, so that the countenance
Was from the reins averted:  and because
None might before him look, they were compell'd
To' advance with backward gait.  Thus one perhaps
Hath been by force of palsy clean transpos'd,
But I ne'er saw it nor believe it so.
     Now, reader! think within thyself, so God
Fruit of thy reading give thee! how I long
Could keep my visage dry, when I beheld
Near me our form distorted in such guise,
That on the hinder parts fall'n from the face
The tears down-streaming roll'd.  Against a rock
I leant and wept, so that my guide exclaim'd:
"What, and art thou too witless as the rest?
Here pity most doth show herself alive,
When she is dead.  What guilt exceedeth his,
Who with Heaven's judgment in his passion strives?
Raise up thy head, raise up, and see the man,
Before whose eyes earth gap'd in Thebes, when all
Cried out, 'Amphiaraus, whither rushest?
'Why leavest thou the war?'  He not the less
Fell ruining far as to Minos down,
Whose grapple none eludes.  Lo! how he makes
The breast his shoulders, and who once too far
Before him wish'd to see, now backward looks,
And treads reverse his path.  Tiresias note,
Who semblance chang'd, when woman he became
Of male, through every limb transform'd, and then
Once more behov'd him with his rod to strike
The two entwining serpents, ere the plumes,
That mark'd the better sex, might shoot again.
     "Aruns, with rere his belly facing, comes.
On Luni's mountains 'midst the marbles white,
Where delves Carrara's hind, who wons beneath,
A cavern was his dwelling, whence the stars
And main-sea wide in boundless view he held.
     "The next, whose loosen'd tresses overspread
Her bosom, which thou seest not (for each hair
On that side grows) was Manto, she who search'd
Through many regions, and at length her seat
Fix'd in my native land, whence a short space
My words detain thy audience.  When her sire
From life departed, and in servitude
The city dedicate to Bacchus mourn'd,
Long time she went a wand'rer through the world.
Aloft in Italy's delightful land
A lake there lies, at foot of that proud Alp,
That o'er the Tyrol locks Germania in,
Its name Benacus, which a thousand rills,
Methinks, and more, water between the vale
Camonica and Garda and the height
Of Apennine remote.  There is a spot
At midway of that lake, where he who bears
Of Trento's flock the past'ral staff, with him
Of Brescia, and the Veronese, might each
Passing that way his benediction give.
A garrison of goodly site and strong
Peschiera stands, to awe with front oppos'd
The Bergamese and Brescian, whence the shore
More slope each way descends.  There, whatsoev'er
Benacus' bosom holds not, tumbling o'er
Down falls, and winds a river flood beneath
Through the green pastures.  Soon as in his course
The steam makes head, Benacus then no more
They call the name, but Mincius, till at last
Reaching Governo into Po he falls.
Not far his course hath run, when a wide flat
It finds, which overstretchmg as a marsh
It covers, pestilent in summer oft.
Hence journeying, the savage maiden saw
'Midst of the fen a territory waste
And naked of inhabitants.  To shun
All human converse, here she with her slaves
Plying her arts remain'd, and liv'd, and left
Her body tenantless.  Thenceforth the tribes,
Who round were scatter'd, gath'ring to that place
Assembled; for its strength was great, enclos'd
On all parts by the fen.  On those dead bones
They rear'd themselves a city, for her sake,
Calling it Mantua, who first chose the spot,
Nor ask'd another omen for the name,
Wherein more numerous the people dwelt,
Ere Casalodi's madness by deceit
Was wrong'd of Pinamonte.  If thou hear
Henceforth another origin assign'd
Of that my country, I forewarn thee now,
That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth."
     I answer'd:  "Teacher, I conclude thy words
So certain, that all else shall be to me
As embers lacking life.  But now of these,
Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou see
Any that merit more especial note.
For thereon is my mind alone intent."
     He straight replied:  "That spirit, from whose cheek
The beard sweeps o'er his shoulders brown, what time
Graecia was emptied of her males, that scarce
The cradles were supplied, the seer was he
In Aulis, who with Calchas gave the sign
When first to cut the cable.  Him they nam'd
Eurypilus:  so sings my tragic strain,
In which majestic measure well thou know'st,
Who know'st it all.  That other, round the loins
So slender of his shape, was Michael Scot,
Practis'd in ev'ry slight of magic wile.
     "Guido Bonatti see:   Asdente mark,
Who now were willing, he had tended still
The thread and cordwain; and too late repents.
     "See next the wretches, who the needle left,
The shuttle and the spindle, and became
Diviners:  baneful witcheries they wrought
With images and herbs.  But onward now:
For now doth Cain with fork of thorns confine
On either hemisphere, touching the wave
Beneath the towers of Seville.  Yesternight
The moon was round.  Thou mayst remember well:
For she good service did thee in the gloom
Of the deep wood."  This said, both onward mov'd.
THUS we from bridge to bridge, with other talk,
The which my drama cares not to rehearse,
Pass'd on; and to the summit reaching, stood
To view another gap, within the round
Of Malebolge, other bootless pangs.
     Marvelous darkness shadow'd o'er the place.
     In the Venetians' arsenal as boils
Through wintry months tenacious pitch, to smear
Their unsound vessels; for th' inclement time
Sea-faring men restrains, and in that while
His bark one builds anew, another stops
The ribs of his, that hath made many a voyage;
One hammers at the prow, one at the poop;
This shapeth oars, that other cables twirls,
The mizen one repairs and main-sail rent
So not by force of fire but art divine
Boil'd here a glutinous thick mass, that round
Lim'd all the shore beneath.  I that beheld,
But therein nought distinguish'd, save the surge,
Rais'd by the boiling, in one mighty swell
Heave, and by turns subsiding and fall.  While there
I fix'd my ken below, "Mark! mark!" my guide
Exclaiming, drew me towards him from the place,
Wherein I stood.  I turn'd myself as one,
Impatient to behold that which beheld
He needs must shun, whom sudden fear unmans,
That he his flight delays not for the view.
Behind me I discern'd a devil black,
That running, up advanc'd along the rock.
Ah! what fierce cruelty his look bespake!
In act how bitter did he seem, with wings
Buoyant outstretch'd and feet of nimblest tread!
His shoulder proudly eminent and sharp
Was with a sinner charg'd; by either haunch
He held him, the foot's sinew griping fast.
     "Ye of our bridge!" he cried, "keen-talon'd fiends!
Lo! one of Santa Zita's elders!  Him
Whelm ye beneath, while I return for more.
That land hath store of such.  All men are there,
Except Bonturo, barterers: of 'no'
For lucre there an 'aye' is quickly made."
     Him dashing down, o'er the rough rock he turn'd,
Nor ever after thief a mastiff loos'd
Sped with like eager haste.  That other sank
And forthwith writing to the surface rose.
But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge,
Cried "Here the hallow'd visage saves not: here
Is other swimming than in Serchio's wave.
Wherefore if thou desire we rend thee not,
Take heed thou mount not o'er the pitch."  This said,
They grappled him with more than hundred hooks,
And shouted:  "Cover'd thou must sport thee here;
So, if thou canst, in secret mayst thou filch."
E'en thus the cook bestirs him, with his grooms,
To thrust the flesh into the caldron down
With flesh-hooks, that it float not on the top.
     Me then my guide bespake:  "Lest they descry,
That thou art here, behind a craggy rock
Bend low and screen thee; and whate'er of force
Be offer'd me, or insult, fear thou not:
For I am well advis'd, who have been erst
In the like fray."  Beyond the bridge's head
Therewith he pass'd, and reaching the sixth pier,
Behov'd him then a forehead terror-proof.
     With storm and fury, as when dogs rush forth
Upon the poor man's back, who suddenly
From whence he standeth makes his suit; so rush'd
Those from beneath the arch, and against him
Their weapons all they pointed.  He aloud:
"Be none of you outrageous:  ere your time
Dare seize me, come forth from amongst you one,
Who having heard my words, decide he then
If he shall tear these limbs."  They shouted loud,
"Go, Malacoda!"  Whereat one advanc'd,
The others standing firm, and as he came,
"What may this turn avail him?" he exclaim'd.
     "Believ'st thou, Malacoda!  I had come
Thus far from all your skirmishing secure,"
My teacher answered, "without will divine
And destiny propitious?  Pass we then
For so Heaven's pleasure is, that I should lead
Another through this savage wilderness."
     Forthwith so fell his pride, that he let drop
The instrument of torture at his feet,
And to the rest exclaim'd: "We have no power
To strike him."  Then to me my guide:  "O thou!
Who on the bridge among the crags dost sit
Low crouching, safely now to me return."
     I rose, and towards him moved with speed:  the fiends
Meantime all forward drew:  me terror seiz'd
Lest they should break the compact they had made.
Thus issuing from Caprona, once I saw
Th' infantry dreading, lest his covenant
The foe should break; so close he hemm'd them round.
     I to my leader's side adher'd, mine eyes
With fixt and motionless observance bent
On their unkindly visage.  They their hooks
Protruding, one the other thus bespake:
"Wilt thou I touch him on the hip?"  To whom
Was answer'd:  "Even so; nor miss thy aim."
     But he, who was in conf'rence with my guide,
Turn'd rapid round, and thus the demon spake:
"Stay, stay thee, Scarmiglione!"  Then to us
He added:  "Further footing to your step
This rock affords not, shiver'd to the base
Of the sixth arch.  But would you still proceed,
Up by this cavern go:  not distant far,
Another rock will yield you passage safe.
Yesterday, later by five hours than now,
Twelve hundred threescore years and six had fill'd
The circuit of their course, since here the way
Was broken.  Thitherward I straight dispatch
Certain of these my scouts, who shall espy
If any on the surface bask.  With them
Go ye:  for ye shall find them nothing fell.
Come Alichino forth," with that he cried,
"And Calcabrina, and Cagnazzo thou!
The troop of ten let Barbariccia lead.
With Libicocco Draghinazzo haste,
Fang'd Ciriatto, Grafflacane fierce,
And Farfarello, and mad Rubicant.
Search ye around the bubbling tar.  For these,
In safety lead them, where the other crag
Uninterrupted traverses the dens."
     I then:  "O master! what a sight is there!
Ah! without escort, journey we alone,
Which, if thou know the way, I covet not.
Unless thy prudence fail thee, dost not mark
How they do gnarl upon us, and their scowl
Threatens us present tortures?"  He replied:
"I charge thee fear not:  let them, as they will,
Gnarl on:  't is but in token of their spite
Against the souls, who mourn in torment steep'd."
     To leftward o'er the pier they turn'd; but each
Had first between his teeth prest close the tongue,
Toward their leader for a signal looking,
Which he with sound obscene triumphant gave.
IT hath been heretofore my chance to see
Horsemen with martial order shifting camp,
To onset sallying, or in muster rang'd,
Or in retreat sometimes outstretch'd for flight;
Light-armed squadrons and fleet foragers
Scouring thy plains, Arezzo! have I seen,
And clashing tournaments, and tilting jousts,
Now with the sound of trumpets, now of bells,
Tabors, or signals made from castled heights,
And with inventions multiform, our own,
Or introduc'd from foreign land; but ne'er
To such a strange recorder I beheld,
In evolution moving, horse nor foot,
Nor ship, that tack'd by sign from land or star.
     With the ten demons on our way we went;
Ah fearful company!  but in the church
With saints, with gluttons at the tavern's mess.
     Still earnest on the pitch I gaz'd, to mark
All things whate'er the chasm contain'd, and those
Who burn'd within.  As dolphins, that, in sign
To mariners, heave high their arched backs,
That thence forewarn'd they may advise to save
Their threaten'd vessels; so, at intervals,
To ease the pain his back some sinner show'd,
Then hid more nimbly than the lightning glance.
     E'en as the frogs, that of a wat'ry moat
Stand at the brink, with the jaws only out,
Their feet and of the trunk all else concealed,
Thus on each part the sinners stood, but soon
As Barbariccia was at hand, so they
Drew back under the wave.  I saw, and yet
My heart doth stagger, one, that waited thus,
As it befalls that oft one frog remains,
While the next springs away:  and Graffiacan,
Who of the fiends was nearest, grappling seiz'd
His clotted locks, and dragg'd him sprawling up,
That he appear'd to me an otter.  Each
Already by their names I knew, so well
When they were chosen, I observ'd, and mark'd
How one the other call'd. "O Rubicant!
See that his hide thou with thy talons flay,"
Shouted together all the cursed crew.
     Then I:  "Inform thee, master!  if thou may,
What wretched soul is this, on whom their hand
His foes have laid."  My leader to his side
Approach'd, and whence he came inquir'd, to whom
Was answer'd thus:  "Born in Navarre's domain
My mother plac'd me in a lord's retinue,
For she had borne me to a losel vile,
A spendthrift of his substance and himself.
The good king Thibault after that I serv'd,
To peculating here my thoughts were turn'd,
Whereof I give account in this dire heat."
     Straight Ciriatto, from whose mouth a tusk
Issued on either side, as from a boar,
Ript him with one of these.  'Twixt evil claws
The mouse had fall'n:  but Barbariccia cried,
Seizing him with both arms:  "Stand thou apart,
While I do fix him on my prong transpierc'd."
Then added, turning to my guide his face,
"Inquire of him, if more thou wish to learn,
Ere he again be rent."  My leader thus:
"Then tell us of the partners in thy guilt;
Knowest thou any sprung of Latian land
Under the tar?"--"I parted," he replied,
"But now from one, who sojourn'd not far thence;
So were I under shelter now with him!
Nor hook nor talon then should scare me more."--.
     "Too long we suffer," Libicocco cried,
Then, darting forth a prong, seiz'd on his arm,
And mangled bore away the sinewy part.
Him Draghinazzo by his thighs beneath
Would next have caught, whence angrily their chief,
Turning on all sides round, with threat'ning brow
Restrain'd them.  When their strife a little ceas'd,
Of him, who yet was gazing on his wound,
My teacher thus without delay inquir'd:
"Who was the spirit, from whom by evil hap
Parting, as thou has told, thou cam'st to shore?"--
     "It was the friar Gomita," he rejoin'd,
"He of Gallura, vessel of all guile,
Who had his master's enemies in hand,
And us'd them so that they commend him well.
Money he took, and them at large dismiss'd.
So he reports:  and in each other charge
Committed to his keeping, play'd the part
Of barterer to the height:   with him doth herd
The chief of Logodoro, Michel Zanche.
Sardinia is a theme, whereof their tongue
Is never weary.  Out! alas! behold
That other, how he grins!  More would I say,
But tremble lest he mean to maul me sore."
     Their captain then to Farfarello turning,
Who roll'd his moony eyes in act to strike,
Rebuk'd him thus:  "Off! cursed bird! Avaunt!"--
     "If ye desire to see or hear," he thus
Quaking with dread resum'd, "or Tuscan spirits
Or Lombard, I will cause them to appear.
Meantime let these ill talons bate their fury,
So that no vengeance they may fear from them,
And I, remaining in this self-same place,
Will for myself but one, make sev'n appear,
When my shrill whistle shall be heard; for so
Our custom is to call each other up."
     Cagnazzo at that word deriding grinn'd,
Then wagg'd the head and spake:  "Hear his device,
Mischievous as he is, to plunge him down."
     Whereto he thus, who fail'd not in rich store
Of nice-wove toils; " Mischief forsooth extreme,
Meant only to procure myself more woe!"
     No longer Alichino then refrain'd,
But thus, the rest gainsaying, him bespake:
"If thou do cast thee down, I not on foot
Will chase thee, but above the pitch will beat
My plumes.  Quit we the vantage ground, and let
The bank be as a shield, that we may see
If singly thou prevail against us all."
     Now, reader, of new sport expect to hear!
     They each one turn'd his eyes to the' other shore,
He first, who was the hardest to persuade.
The spirit of Navarre chose well his time,
Planted his feet on land, and at one leap
Escaping disappointed their resolve.
     Them quick resentment stung, but him the most,
Who was the cause of failure; in pursuit
He therefore sped, exclaiming;  "Thou art caught."
     But little it avail'd:  terror outstripp'd
His following flight:  the other plung'd beneath,
And he with upward pinion rais'd his breast:
E'en thus the water-fowl, when she perceives
The falcon near, dives instant down, while he
Enrag'd and spent retires.  That mockery
In Calcabrina fury stirr'd, who flew
After him, with desire of strife inflam'd;
And, for the barterer had 'scap'd, so turn'd
His talons on his comrade. O'er the dyke
In grapple close they join'd; but the' other prov'd
A goshawk able to rend well his foe;
And in the boiling lake both fell.  The heat
Was umpire soon between them, but in vain
To lift themselves they strove, so fast were glued
Their pennons.  Barbariccia, as the rest,
That chance lamenting, four in flight dispatch'd
From the' other coast, with all their weapons arm'd.
They, to their post on each side speedily
Descending, stretch'd their hooks toward the fiends,
Who flounder'd, inly burning from their scars:
And we departing left them to that broil.
IN silence and in solitude we went,
One first, the other following his steps,
As minor friars journeying on their road.
     The present fray had turn'd my thoughts to muse
Upon old Aesop's fable, where he told
What fate unto the mouse and frog befell.
For language hath not sounds more like in sense,
Than are these chances, if the origin
And end of each be heedfully compar'd.
And as one thought bursts from another forth,
So afterward from that another sprang,
Which added doubly to my former fear.
For thus I reason'd:  "These through us have been
So foil'd, with loss and mock'ry so complete,
As needs must sting them sore.  If anger then
Be to their evil will conjoin'd, more fell
They shall pursue us, than the savage hound
Snatches the leveret, panting 'twixt his jaws."
     Already I perceiv'd my hair stand all
On end with terror, and look'd eager back.
     "Teacher," I thus began, "if speedily
Thyself and me thou hide not, much I dread
Those evil talons.  Even now behind
They urge us:  quick imagination works
So forcibly, that I already feel them.''
     He answer'd:  "Were I form'd of leaded glass,
I should not sooner draw unto myself
Thy outward image, than I now imprint
That from within.  This moment came thy thoughts
Presented before mine, with similar act
And count'nance similar, so that from both
I one design have fram'd.  If the right coast
Incline so much, that we may thence descend
Into the other chasm, we shall escape
Secure from this imagined pursuit."
     He had not spoke his purpose to the end,
When I from far beheld them with spread wings
Approach to take us.  Suddenly my guide
Caught me, ev'n as a mother that from sleep
Is by the noise arous'd, and near her sees
The climbing fires, who snatches up her babe
And flies ne'er pausing, careful more of him
Than of herself, that but a single vest
Clings round her limbs.  Down from the jutting beach
Supine he cast him, to that pendent rock,
Which closes on one part the other chasm.
     Never ran water with such hurrying pace
Adown the tube to turn a landmill's wheel,
When nearest it approaches to the spokes,
As then along that edge my master ran,
Carrying me in his bosom, as a child,
Not a companion.  Scarcely had his feet
Reach'd to the lowest of the bed beneath,
When over us the steep they reach'd; but fear
In him was none; for that high Providence,
Which plac'd them ministers of the fifth foss,
Power of departing thence took from them all.
     There in the depth we saw a painted tribe,
Who pac'd with tardy steps around, and wept,
Faint in appearance and o'ercome with toil.
Caps had they on, with hoods, that fell low down
Before their eyes, in fashion like to those
Worn by the monks in Cologne.  Their outside
Was overlaid with gold, dazzling to view,
But leaden all within, and of such weight,
That Frederick's compar'd to these were straw.
Oh, everlasting wearisome attire!
     We yet once more with them together turn'd
To leftward, on their dismal moan intent.
But by the weight oppress'd, so slowly came
The fainting people, that our company
Was chang'd at every movement of the step.
     Whence I my guide address'd:  "See that thou find
Some spirit, whose name may by his deeds be known,
And to that end look round thee as thou go'st."
     Then one, who understood the Tuscan voice,
Cried after us aloud:  "Hold in your feet,
Ye who so swiftly speed through the dusk air.
Perchance from me thou shalt obtain thy wish."
     Whereat my leader, turning, me bespake:
"Pause, and then onward at their pace proceed."
     I staid, and saw two Spirits in whose look
Impatient eagerness of mind was mark'd
To overtake me; but the load they bare
And narrow path retarded their approach.
     Soon as arriv'd, they with an eye askance
Perus'd me, but spake not: then turning each
To other thus conferring said:  "This one
Seems, by the action of his throat, alive.
And, be they dead, what privilege allows
They walk unmantled by the cumbrous stole?"
     Then thus to me:  "Tuscan, who visitest
The college of the mourning hypocrites,
Disdain not to instruct us who thou art."
     "By Arno's pleasant stream," I thus replied,
"In the great city I was bred and grew,
And wear the body I have ever worn.
but who are ye, from whom such mighty grief,
As now I witness, courseth down your cheeks?
What torment breaks forth in this bitter woe?"
"Our bonnets gleaming bright with orange hue,"
One of them answer'd, "are so leaden gross,
That with their weight they make the balances
To crack beneath them.  Joyous friars we were,
Bologna's natives, Catalano I,
He Loderingo nam'd, and by thy land
Together taken, as men used to take
A single and indifferent arbiter,
To reconcile their strifes.  How there we sped,
Gardingo's vicinage can best declare."
     "O friars!"  I began, "your miseries--"
But there brake off, for one had caught my eye,
Fix'd to a cross with three stakes on the ground:
He, when he saw me, writh'd himself, throughout
Distorted, ruffling with deep sighs his beard.
And Catalano, who thereof was 'ware,
Thus spake:  "That pierced spirit, whom intent
Thou view'st, was he who gave the Pharisees
Counsel, that it were fitting for one man
To suffer for the people.  He doth lie
Transverse; nor any passes, but him first
Behoves make feeling trial how each weighs.
In straits like this along the foss are plac'd
The father of his consort, and the rest
Partakers in that council, seed of ill
And sorrow to the Jews."  I noted then,
How Virgil gaz'd with wonder upon him,
Thus abjectly extended on the cross
In banishment eternal.  To the friar
He next his words address'd:  "We pray ye tell,
If so be lawful, whether on our right
Lies any opening in the rock, whereby
We both may issue hence, without constraint
On the dark angels, that compell'd they come
To lead us from this depth."  He thus replied:
"Nearer than thou dost hope, there is a rock
From the next circle moving, which o'ersteps
Each vale of horror, save that here his cope
Is shatter'd.  By the ruin ye may mount:
For on the side it slants, and most the height
Rises below."  With head bent down awhile
My leader stood, then spake:  "He warn'd us ill,
Who yonder hangs the sinners on his hook."
     To whom the friar:  At Bologna erst
I many vices of the devil heard,
Among the rest was said, 'He is a liar,
And the father of lies!'"  When he had spoke,
My leader with large strides proceeded on,
Somewhat disturb'd with anger in his look.
     I therefore left the spirits heavy laden,
And following, his beloved footsteps mark'd.
IN the year's early nonage, when the sun
Tempers his tresses in Aquarius' urn,
And now towards equal day the nights recede,
When as the rime upon the earth puts on
Her dazzling sister's image, but not long
Her milder sway endures, then riseth up
The village hind, whom fails his wintry store,
And looking out beholds the plain around
All whiten'd, whence impatiently he smites
His thighs, and to his hut returning in,
There paces to and fro, wailing his lot,
As a discomfited and helpless man;
Then comes he forth again, and feels new hope
Spring in his bosom, finding e'en thus soon
The world hath chang'd its count'nance, grasps his crook,
And forth to pasture drives his little flock:
So me my guide dishearten'd when I saw
His troubled forehead, and so speedily
That ill was cur'd; for at the fallen bridge
Arriving, towards me with a look as sweet,
He turn'd him back, as that I first beheld
At the steep mountain's foot.  Regarding well
The ruin, and some counsel first maintain'd
With his own thought, he open'd wide his arm
And took me up.  As one, who, while he works,
Computes his labour's issue, that he seems
Still to foresee the' effect, so lifting me
Up to the summit of one peak, he fix'd
His eye upon another.  "Grapple that,"
Said he, "but first make proof, if it be such
As will sustain thee."  For one capp'd with lead
This were no journey.  Scarcely he, though light,
And I, though onward push'd from crag to crag,
Could mount.  And if the precinct of this coast
Were not less ample than the last, for him
I know not, but my strength had surely fail'd.
But Malebolge all toward the mouth
Inclining of the nethermost abyss,
The site of every valley hence requires,
That one side upward slope, the other fall.
     At length the point of our descent we reach'd
From the last flag: soon as to that arriv'd,
So was the breath exhausted from my lungs,
I could no further, but did seat me there.
     "Now needs thy best of man;" so spake my guide:
"For not on downy plumes, nor under shade
Of canopy reposing, fame is won,
Without which whosoe'er consumes his days
Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth,
As smoke in air or foam upon the wave.
Thou therefore rise:  vanish thy weariness
By the mind's effort, in each struggle form'd
To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight
Of her corporeal frame to crush her down.
A longer ladder yet remains to scale.
From these to have escap'd sufficeth not.
If well thou note me, profit by my words."
     I straightway rose, and show'd myself less spent
Than I in truth did feel me.  "On," I cried,
"For I am stout and fearless."  Up the rock
Our way we held, more rugged than before,
Narrower and steeper far to climb.  From talk
I ceas'd not, as we journey'd, so to seem
Least faint; whereat a voice from the other foss
Did issue forth, for utt'rance suited ill.
Though on the arch that crosses there I stood,
What were the words I knew not, but who spake
Seem'd mov'd in anger.  Down I stoop'd to look,
But my quick eye might reach not to the depth
For shrouding darkness; wherefore thus I spake:
"To the next circle, Teacher, bend thy steps,
And from the wall dismount we; for as hence
I hear and understand not, so I see
Beneath, and naught discern."--"I answer not,"
Said he, "but by the deed.  To fair request
Silent performance maketh best return."
     We from the bridge's head descended, where
To the eighth mound it joins, and then the chasm
Opening to view, I saw a crowd within
Of serpents terrible, so strange of shape
And hideous, that remembrance in my veins
Yet shrinks the vital current.  Of her sands
Let Lybia vaunt no more:  if Jaculus,
Pareas and Chelyder be her brood,
Cenchris and Amphisboena, plagues so dire
Or in such numbers swarming ne'er she shew'd,
Not with all Ethiopia, and whate'er
Above the Erythraean sea is spawn'd.
     Amid this dread exuberance of woe
Ran naked spirits wing'd with horrid fear,
Nor hope had they of crevice where to hide,
Or heliotrope to charm them out of view.
With serpents were their hands behind them bound,
Which through their reins infix'd the tail and head
Twisted in folds before.  And lo!  on one
Near to our side, darted an adder up,
And, where the neck is on the shoulders tied,
Transpierc'd him.  Far more quickly than e'er pen
Wrote O or I, he kindled, burn'd, and chang'd
To ashes, all pour'd out upon the earth.
When there dissolv'd he lay, the dust again
Uproll'd spontaneous, and the self-same form
Instant resumed.  So mighty sages tell,
The' Arabian Phoenix, when five hundred years
Have well nigh circled, dies, and springs forthwith
Renascent.  Blade nor herb throughout his life
He tastes, but tears of frankincense alone
And odorous amomum:  swaths of nard
And myrrh his funeral shroud.  As one that falls,
He knows not how, by force demoniac dragg'd
To earth, or through obstruction fettering up
In chains invisible the powers of man,
Who, risen from his trance, gazeth around,
Bewilder'd with the monstrous agony
He hath endur'd, and wildly staring sighs;
So stood aghast the sinner when he rose.
     Oh!  how severe God's judgment, that deals out
Such blows in stormy vengeance!  Who he was
My teacher next inquir'd, and thus in few
He answer'd:  "Vanni Fucci am I call'd,
Not long since rained down from Tuscany
To this dire gullet.  Me the beastial life
And not the human pleas'd, mule that I was,
Who in Pistoia found my worthy den."
     I then to Virgil:  "Bid him stir not hence,
And ask what crime did thrust him hither:  once
A man I knew him choleric and bloody."
     The sinner heard and feign'd not, but towards me
His mind directing and his face, wherein
Was dismal shame depictur'd, thus he spake:
"It grieves me more to have been caught by thee
In this sad plight, which thou beholdest, than
When I was taken from the other life.
I have no power permitted to deny
What thou inquirest."  I am doom'd thus low
To dwell, for that the sacristy by me
Was rifled of its goodly ornaments,
And with the guilt another falsely charged.
But that thou mayst not joy to see me thus,
So as thou e'er shalt 'scape this darksome realm
Open thine ears and hear what I forebode.
Reft of the Neri first Pistoia pines,
Then Florence changeth citizens and laws.
From Valdimagra, drawn by wrathful Mars,
A vapour rises, wrapt in turbid mists,
And sharp and eager driveth on the storm
With arrowy hurtling o'er Piceno's field,
Whence suddenly the cloud shall burst, and strike
Each helpless Bianco prostrate to the ground.
This have I told, that grief may rend thy heart."
WHEN he had spoke, the sinner rais'd his hands
Pointed in mockery, and cried:  "Take them, God!
I level them at thee!"  From that day forth
The serpents were my friends; for round his neck
One of then rolling twisted, as it said,
"Be silent, tongue!"  Another to his arms
Upgliding, tied them, riveting itself
So close, it took from them the power to move.
     Pistoia!  Ah Pistoia!  why dost doubt
To turn thee into ashes, cumb'ring earth
No longer, since in evil act so far
Thou hast outdone thy seed?  I did not mark,
Through all the gloomy circles of the' abyss,
Spirit, that swell'd so proudly 'gainst his God,
Not him, who headlong fell from Thebes.  He fled,
Nor utter'd more; and after him there came
A centaur full of fury, shouting, "Where
Where is the caitiff?"  On Maremma's marsh
Swarm not the serpent tribe, as on his haunch
They swarm'd, to where the human face begins.
Behind his head upon the shoulders lay,
With open wings, a dragon breathing fire
On whomsoe'er he met.  To me my guide:
"Cacus is this, who underneath the rock
Of Aventine spread oft a lake of blood.
He, from his brethren parted, here must tread
A different journey, for his fraudful theft
Of the great herd, that near him stall'd; whence found
His felon deeds their end, beneath the mace
Of stout Alcides, that perchance laid on
A hundred blows, and not the tenth was felt."
     While yet he spake, the centaur sped away:
And under us three spirits came, of whom
Nor I nor he was ware, till they exclaim'd;
"Say who are ye?"  We then brake off discourse,
Intent on these alone.  I knew them not;
But, as it chanceth oft, befell, that one
Had need to name another.  "Where," said he,
"Doth Cianfa lurk?"  I, for a sign my guide
Should stand attentive, plac'd against my lips
The finger lifted.  If, O reader!  now
Thou be not apt to credit what I tell,
No marvel; for myself do scarce allow
The witness of mine eyes.  But as I looked
Toward them, lo!  a serpent with six feet
Springs forth on one, and fastens full upon him:
His midmost grasp'd the belly, a forefoot
Seiz'd on each arm (while deep in either cheek
He flesh'd his fangs); the hinder on the thighs
Were spread, 'twixt which the tail inserted curl'd
Upon the reins behind.  Ivy ne'er clasp'd
A dodder'd oak, as round the other's limbs
The hideous monster intertwin'd his own.
Then, as they both had been of burning wax,
Each melted into other, mingling hues,
That which was either now was seen no more.
Thus up the shrinking paper, ere it burns,
A brown tint glides, not turning yet to black,
And the clean white expires.  The other two
Look'd on exclaiming:  "Ah, how dost thou change,
Agnello!  See!  Thou art nor double now,
Nor only one."  The two heads now became
One, and two figures blended in one form
Appear'd, where both were lost.  Of the four lengths
Two arms were made:  the belly and the chest
The thighs and legs into such members chang'd,
As never eye hath seen.  Of former shape
All trace was vanish'd.  Two yet neither seem'd
That image miscreate, and so pass'd on
With tardy steps.  As underneath the scourge
Of the fierce dog-star, that lays bare the fields,
Shifting from brake to brake, the lizard seems
A flash of lightning, if he thwart the road,
So toward th' entrails of the other two
Approaching seem'd, an adder all on fire,
As the dark pepper-grain, livid and swart.
In that part, whence our life is nourish'd first,
One he transpierc'd; then down before him fell
Stretch'd out.  The pierced spirit look'd on him
But spake not; yea stood motionless and yawn'd,
As if by sleep or fev'rous fit assail'd.
He ey'd the serpent, and the serpent him.
One from the wound, the other from the mouth
Breath'd a thick smoke, whose vap'ry columns join'd.
     Lucan in mute attention now may hear,
Nor thy disastrous fate, Sabellus!  tell,
Nor shine, Nasidius!  Ovid now be mute.
What if in warbling fiction he record
Cadmus and Arethusa, to a snake
Him chang'd, and her into a fountain clear,
I envy not; for never face to face
Two natures thus transmuted did he sing,
Wherein both shapes were ready to assume
The other's substance.  They in mutual guise
So answer'd, that the serpent split his train
Divided to a fork, and the pierc'd spirit
Drew close his steps together, legs and thighs
Compacted, that no sign of juncture soon
Was visible:  the tail disparted took
The figure which the spirit lost, its skin
Soft'ning, his indurated to a rind.
The shoulders next I mark'd, that ent'ring join'd
The monster's arm-pits, whose two shorter feet
So lengthen'd, as the other's dwindling shrunk.
The feet behind then twisting up became
That part that man conceals, which in the wretch
Was cleft in twain.  While both the shadowy smoke
With a new colour veils, and generates
Th' excrescent pile on one, peeling it off
From th' other body, lo!  upon his feet
One upright rose, and prone the other fell.
Not yet their glaring and malignant lamps
Were shifted, though each feature chang'd beneath.
Of him who stood erect, the mounting face
Retreated towards the temples, and what there
Superfluous matter came, shot out in ears
From the smooth cheeks, the rest, not backward dragg'd,
Of its excess did shape the nose; and swell'd
Into due size protuberant the lips.
He, on the earth who lay, meanwhile extends
His sharpen'd visage, and draws down the ears
Into the head, as doth the slug his horns.
His tongue continuous before and apt
For utt'rance, severs; and the other's fork
Closing unites.  That done the smoke was laid.
The soul, transform'd into the brute, glides off,
Hissing along the vale, and after him
The other talking sputters; but soon turn'd
His new-grown shoulders on him, and in few
Thus to another spake:  "Along this path
Crawling, as I have done, speed Buoso now!"
     So saw I fluctuate in successive change
Th' unsteady ballast of the seventh hold:
And here if aught my tongue have swerv'd, events
So strange may be its warrant.  O'er mine eyes
Confusion hung, and on my thoughts amaze.
     Yet 'scap'd they not so covertly, but well
I mark'd Sciancato:  he alone it was
Of the three first that came, who chang'd not:  thou,
The other's fate, Gaville, still dost rue.
FLORENCE exult!  for thou so mightily
Hast thriven, that o'er land and sea thy wings
Thou beatest, and thy name spreads over hell!
Among the plund'rers such the three I found
Thy citizens, whence shame to me thy son,
And no proud honour to thyself redounds.
     But if our minds, when dreaming near the dawn,
Are of the truth presageful, thou ere long
Shalt feel what Prato, (not to say the rest)
Would fain might come upon thee; and that chance
Were in good time, if it befell thee now.
Would so it were, since it must needs befall!
For as time wears me, I shall grieve the more.
     We from the depth departed; and my guide
Remounting scal'd the flinty steps, which late
We downward trac'd, and drew me up the steep.
Pursuing thus our solitary way
Among the crags and splinters of the rock,
Sped not our feet without the help of hands.
     Then sorrow seiz'd me, which e'en now revives,
As my thought turns again to what I saw,
And, more than I am wont, I rein and curb
The powers of nature in me, lest they run
Where Virtue guides not; that if aught of good
My gentle star, or something better gave me,
I envy not myself the precious boon.
     As in that season, when the sun least veils
His face that lightens all, what time the fly
Gives way to the shrill gnat, the peasant then
Upon some cliff reclin'd, beneath him sees
Fire-flies innumerous spangling o'er the vale,
Vineyard or tilth, where his day-labour lies:
With flames so numberless throughout its space
Shone the eighth chasm, apparent, when the depth
Was to my view expos'd. As he, whose wrongs
The bears aveng'd, at its departure saw
Elijah's chariot, when the steeds erect
Rais'd their steep flight for heav'n; his eyes meanwhile,
Straining pursu'd them, till the flame alone
Upsoaring like a misty speck he kenn'd;
E'en thus along the gulf moves every flame,
A sinner so enfolded close in each,
That none exhibits token of the theft.
     Upon the bridge I forward bent to look,
And grasp'd a flinty mass, or else had fall'n,
Though push'd not from the height.  The guide, who mark d
How I did gaze attentive, thus began:
"Within these ardours are the spirits, each
Swath'd in confining fire."--"Master, thy word,"
I answer'd, "hath assur'd me; yet I deem'd
Already of the truth, already wish'd
To ask thee, who is in yon fire, that comes
So parted at the summit, as it seem'd
Ascending from that funeral pile, where lay
The Theban brothers?"  He replied:  "Within
Ulysses there and Diomede endure
Their penal tortures, thus to vengeance now
Together hasting, as erewhile to wrath.
These in the flame with ceaseless groans deplore
The ambush of the horse, that open'd wide
A portal for that goodly seed to pass,
Which sow'd imperial Rome; nor less the guile
Lament they, whence of her Achilles 'reft
Deidamia yet in death complains.
And there is rued the stratagem, that Troy
Of her Palladium spoil'd."--"If they have power
Of utt'rance from within these sparks," said I,
"O master!  think my prayer a thousand fold
In repetition urg'd, that thou vouchsafe
To pause, till here the horned flame arrive.
See, how toward it with desire I bend."
     He thus:  "Thy prayer is worthy of much praise,
And I accept it therefore:  but do thou
Thy tongue refrain:  to question them be mine,
For I divine thy wish:  and they perchance,
For they were Greeks, might shun discourse with thee."
     When there the flame had come, where time and place
Seem'd fitting to my guide, he thus began:
"O ye, who dwell two spirits in one fire!
If living I of you did merit aught,
Whate'er the measure were of that desert,
When in the world my lofty strain I pour'd,
Move ye not on, till one of you unfold
In what clime death o'ertook him self-destroy'd."
     Of the old flame forthwith the greater horn
Began to roll, murmuring, as a fire
That labours with the wind, then to and fro
Wagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds,
Threw out its voice, and spake:  "When I escap'd
From Circe, who beyond a circling year
Had held me near Caieta, by her charms,
Ere thus Aeneas yet had nam'd the shore,
Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence
Of my old father, nor return of love,
That should have crown'd Penelope with joy,
Could overcome in me the zeal I had
T' explore the world, and search the ways of life,
Man's evil and his virtue.  Forth I sail'd
Into the deep illimitable main,
With but one bark, and the small faithful band
That yet cleav'd to me.  As Iberia far,
Far as Morocco either shore I saw,
And the Sardinian and each isle beside
Which round that ocean bathes.  Tardy with age
Were I and my companions, when we came
To the strait pass, where Hercules ordain'd
The bound'ries not to be o'erstepp'd by man.
The walls of Seville to my right I left,
On the' other hand already Ceuta past.
"O brothers!"  I began, "who to the west
Through perils without number now have reach'd,
To this the short remaining watch, that yet
Our senses have to wake, refuse not proof
Of the unpeopled world, following the track
Of Phoebus. Call to mind from whence we sprang:
Ye were not form'd to live the life of brutes
But virtue to pursue and knowledge high.
With these few words I sharpen'd for the voyage
The mind of my associates, that I then
Could scarcely have withheld them.  To the dawn
Our poop we turn'd, and for the witless flight
Made our oars wings, still gaining on the left.
Each star of the' other pole night now beheld,
And ours so low, that from the ocean-floor
It rose not.  Five times re-illum'd, as oft
Vanish'd the light from underneath the moon
Since the deep way we enter'd, when from far
Appear'd a mountain dim, loftiest methought
Of all I e'er beheld.  Joy seiz'd us straight,
But soon to mourning changed.  From the new land
A whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost side
Did strike the vessel.  Thrice it whirl'd her round
With all the waves, the fourth time lifted up
The poop, and sank the prow: so fate decreed:
And over us the booming billow clos'd."
NOW upward rose the flame, and still'd its light
To speak no more, and now pass'd on with leave
From the mild poet gain'd, when following came
Another, from whose top a sound confus'd,
Forth issuing, drew our eyes that way to look.
     As the Sicilian bull, that rightfully
His cries first echoed, who had shap'd its mould,
Did so rebellow, with the voice of him
Tormented, that the brazen monster seem'd
Pierc'd through with pain; thus while no way they found
Nor avenue immediate through the flame,
Into its language turn'd the dismal words:
But soon as they had won their passage forth,
Up from the point, which vibrating obey'd
Their motion at the tongue, these sounds we heard:
"O thou!  to whom I now direct my voice!
That lately didst exclaim in Lombard phrase,
     Depart thou, I solicit thee no more,'
Though somewhat tardy I perchance arrive
Let it not irk thee here to pause awhile,
And with me parley:  lo! it irks not me
And yet I burn.  If but e'en now thou fall
into this blind world, from that pleasant land
Of Latium, whence I draw my sum of guilt,
Tell me if those, who in Romagna dwell,
Have peace or war.  For of the mountains there
Was I, betwixt Urbino and the height,
Whence Tyber first unlocks his mighty flood."
     Leaning I listen'd yet with heedful ear,
When, as he touch'd my side, the leader thus:
"Speak thou: he is a Latian."  My reply
Was ready, and I spake without delay:
     "O spirit!  who art hidden here below!
Never was thy Romagna without war
In her proud tyrants' bosoms, nor is now:
But open war there left I none.  The state,
Ravenna hath maintain'd this many a year,
Is steadfast.  There Polenta's eagle broods,
And in his broad circumference of plume
O'ershadows Cervia. The green talons grasp
The land, that stood erewhile the proof so long,
And pil'd in bloody heap the host of France.
     "The' old mastiff of Verruchio and the young,
That tore Montagna in their wrath, still make,
Where they are wont, an augre of their fangs.
     "Lamone's city and Santerno's range
Under the lion of the snowy lair.
Inconstant partisan! that changeth sides,
Or ever summer yields to winter's frost.
And she, whose flank is wash'd of Savio's wave,
As 'twixt the level and the steep she lies,
Lives so 'twixt tyrant power and liberty.
     "Now tell us, I entreat thee, who art thou?
Be not more hard than others.  In the world,
So may thy name still rear its forehead high."
     Then roar'd awhile the fire, its sharpen'd point
On either side wav'd, and thus breath'd at last:
"If I did think, my answer were to one,
Who ever could return unto the world,
This flame should rest unshaken.  But since ne'er,
If true be told me, any from this depth
Has found his upward way, I answer thee,
Nor fear lest infamy record the words.
     "A man of arms at first, I cloth'd me then
In good Saint Francis' girdle, hoping so
T' have made amends.  And certainly my hope
Had fail'd not, but that he, whom curses light on,
The' high priest again seduc'd me into sin.
And how and wherefore listen while I tell.
Long as this spirit mov'd the bones and pulp
My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake
The nature of the lion than the fox.
All ways of winding subtlety I knew,
And with such art conducted, that the sound
Reach'd the world's limit.  Soon as to that part
Of life I found me come, when each behoves
To lower sails and gather in the lines;
That which before had pleased me then I rued,
And to repentance and confession turn'd;
Wretch that I was! and well it had bested me!
The chief of the new Pharisees meantime,
Waging his warfare near the Lateran,
Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes
All Christians were, nor against Acre one
Had fought, nor traffic'd in the Soldan's land),
He his great charge nor sacred ministry
In himself, rev'renc'd, nor in me that cord,
Which us'd to mark with leanness whom it girded.
As in Socrate, Constantine besought
To cure his leprosy Sylvester's aid,
So me to cure the fever of his pride
This man besought: my counsel to that end
He ask'd:  and I was silent:  for his words
Seem'd drunken:  but forthwith he thus resum'd:
"From thy heart banish fear:  of all offence
I hitherto absolve thee.  In return,
Teach me my purpose so to execute,
That Penestrino cumber earth no more.
Heav'n, as thou knowest, I have power to shut
And open:  and the keys are therefore twain,
The which my predecessor meanly priz'd."
     Then, yielding to the forceful arguments,
Of silence as more perilous I deem'd,
And answer'd:  "Father! since thou washest me
Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall,
Large promise with performance scant, be sure,
Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat."
     "When I was number'd with the dead, then came
Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark
He met, who cried: "'Wrong me not; he is mine,
And must below to join the wretched crew,
For the deceitful counsel which he gave.
E'er since I watch'd him, hov'ring at his hair,
No power can the impenitent absolve;
Nor to repent and will at once consist,
By contradiction absolute forbid."
Oh mis'ry! how I shook myself, when he
Seiz'd me, and cried, "Thou haply thought'st me not
A disputant in logic so exact."
To Minos down he bore me, and the judge
Twin'd eight times round his callous back the tail,
Which biting with excess of rage, he spake:
"This is a guilty soul, that in the fire
Must vanish.'  Hence perdition-doom'd I rove
A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb."
     When he had thus fulfill'd his words, the flame
In dolour parted, beating to and fro,
And writhing its sharp horn.  We onward went,
I and my leader, up along the rock,
Far as another arch, that overhangs
The foss, wherein the penalty is paid
Of those, who load them with committed sin.
CANTO XXVIII
WHO, e'en in words unfetter'd, might at full
Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw,
Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue
So vast a theme could equal, speech and thought
Both impotent alike.  If in one band
Collected, stood the people all, who e'er
Pour'd on Apulia's happy soil their blood,
Slain by the Trojans, and in that long war
When of the rings the measur'd booty made
A pile so high, as Rome's historian writes
Who errs not, with the multitude, that felt
The grinding force of Guiscard's Norman steel,
And those the rest, whose bones are gather'd yet
At Ceperano, there where treachery
Branded th' Apulian name, or where beyond
Thy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without arms
The old Alardo conquer'd; and his limbs
One were to show transpierc'd, another his
Clean lopt away; a spectacle like this
Were but a thing of nought, to the' hideous sight
Of the ninth chasm.  A rundlet, that hath lost
Its middle or side stave, gapes not so wide,
As one I mark'd, torn from the chin throughout
Down to the hinder passage: 'twixt the legs
Dangling his entrails hung, the midriff lay
Open to view, and wretched ventricle,
That turns th' englutted aliment to dross.
     Whilst eagerly I fix on him my gaze,
He ey'd me, with his hands laid his breast bare,
And cried;  "Now mark how I do rip me!  lo!
How is Mohammed mangled!  before me
Walks Ali weeping, from the chin his face
Cleft to the forelock; and the others all
Whom here thou seest, while they liv'd, did sow
Scandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent.
A fiend is here behind, who with his sword
Hacks us thus cruelly, slivering again
Each of this ream, when we have compast round
The dismal way, for first our gashes close
Ere we repass before him.  But say who
Art thou, that standest musing on the rock,
Haply so lingering to delay the pain
Sentenc'd upon thy crimes?"--"Him death not yet,"
My guide rejoin'd, "hath overta'en, nor sin
Conducts to torment; but, that he may make
Full trial of your state, I who am dead
Must through the depths of hell, from orb to orb,
Conduct him.  Trust my words, for they are true."
     More than a hundred spirits, when that they heard,
Stood in the foss to mark me, through amazed,
Forgetful of their pangs.  "Thou, who perchance
Shalt shortly view the sun, this warning thou
Bear to Dolcino:  bid him, if he wish not
Here soon to follow me, that with good store
Of food he arm him, lest impris'ning snows
Yield him a victim to Novara's power,
No easy conquest else."  With foot uprais'd
For stepping, spake Mohammed, on the ground
Then fix'd it to depart.  Another shade,
Pierc'd in the throat, his nostrils mutilate
E'en from beneath the eyebrows, and one ear
Lopt off, who with the rest through wonder stood
Gazing, before the rest advanc'd, and bar'd
His wind-pipe, that without was all o'ersmear'd
With crimson stain.  "O thou!" said 'he, "whom sin
Condemns not, and whom erst (unless too near
Resemblance do deceive me) I aloft
Have seen on Latian ground, call thou to mind
Piero of Medicina, if again
Returning, thou behold'st the pleasant land
That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo;
And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boasts
Her worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo,
That if 't is giv'n us here to scan aright
The future, they out of life's tenement
Shall be cast forth, and whelm'd under the waves
Near to Cattolica, through perfidy
Of a fell tyrant.  'Twixt the Cyprian isle
And Balearic, ne'er hath Neptune seen
An injury so foul, by pirates done
Or Argive crew of old.  That one-ey'd traitor
(Whose realm there is a spirit here were fain
His eye had still lack'd sight of) them shall bring
To conf'rence with him, then so shape his end,
That they shall need not 'gainst Focara's wind
Offer up vow nor pray'r."  I answering thus:
     "Declare, as thou dost wish that I above
May carry tidings of thee, who is he,
In whom that sight doth wake such sad remembrance?"
     Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-bone
Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws
Expanding, cried:  "Lo! this is he I wot of;
He speaks not for himself:  the outcast this
Who overwhelm'd the doubt in Caesar's mind,
Affirming that delay to men prepar'd
Was ever harmful.  "Oh  how terrified
Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut
The tongue, which spake that hardy word.  Then one
Maim'd of each hand, uplifted in the gloom
The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots
Sullied his face, and cried: "'Remember thee
Of Mosca, too, I who, alas!  exclaim'd,
'The deed once done there is an end,' that prov'd
A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race."
     I added:  "Ay, and death to thine own tribe."
     Whence heaping woe on woe he hurried off,
As one grief stung to madness.  But I there
Still linger'd to behold the troop, and saw
Things, such as I may fear without more proof
To tell of, but that conscience makes me firm,
The boon companion, who her strong breast-plate
Buckles on him, that feels no guilt within
And bids him on and fear not.  Without doubt
I saw, and yet it seems to pass before me,
A headless trunk, that even as the rest
Of the sad flock pac'd onward.  By the hair
It bore the sever'd member, lantern-wise
Pendent in hand, which look'd at us and said,
"Woe's me!"  The spirit lighted thus himself,
And two there were in one, and one in two.
How that may be he knows who ordereth so.
     When at the bridge's foot direct he stood,
His arm aloft he rear'd, thrusting the head
Full in our view, that nearer we might hear
The words, which thus it utter'd:  "Now behold
This grievous torment, thou, who breathing go'st
To spy the dead; behold if any else
Be terrible as this.  And that on earth
Thou mayst bear tidings of me, know that I
Am Bertrand, he of Born, who gave King John
The counsel mischievous.  Father and son
I set at mutual war.  For Absalom
And David more did not Ahitophel,
Spurring them on maliciously to strife.
For parting those so closely knit, my brain
Parted, alas!  I carry from its source,
That in this trunk inhabits.  Thus the law
Of retribution fiercely works in me."
SO were mine eyes inebriate with view
Of the vast multitude, whom various wounds
Disfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep.
     But Virgil rous'd me:  "What yet gazest on?
Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight below
Among the maim'd and miserable shades?
Thou hast not shewn in any chasm beside
This weakness.  Know, if thou wouldst number them
That two and twenty miles the valley winds
Its circuit, and already is the moon
Beneath our feet:  the time permitted now
Is short, and more not seen remains to see."
     "If thou," I straight replied, "hadst weigh'd the cause
For which I look'd, thou hadst perchance excus'd
The tarrying still."  My leader part pursu'd
His way, the while I follow'd, answering him,
And adding thus:  "Within that cave I deem,
Whereon so fixedly I held my ken,
There is a spirit dwells, one of my blood,
Wailing the crime that costs him now so dear."
     Then spake my master: "Let thy soul no more
Afflict itself for him.  Direct elsewhere
Its thought, and leave him.  At the bridge's foot
I mark'd how he did point with menacing look
At thee, and heard him by the others nam'd
Geri of Bello.  Thou so wholly then
Wert busied with his spirit, who once rul'd
The towers of Hautefort, that thou lookedst not
That way, ere he was gone."--"O guide belov'd!
His violent death yet unaveng'd," said I,
"By any, who are partners in his shame,
Made him contemptuous:  therefore, as I think,
He pass'd me speechless by; and doing so
Hath made me more compassionate his fate."
     So we discours'd to where the rock first show'd
The other valley, had more light been there,
E'en to the lowest depth.  Soon as we came
O'er the last cloister in the dismal rounds
Of Malebolge, and the brotherhood
Were to our view expos'd, then many a dart
Of sore lament assail'd me, headed all
With points of thrilling pity, that I clos'd
Both ears against the volley with mine hands.
     As were the torment, if each lazar-house
Of Valdichiana, in the sultry time
'Twixt July and September, with the isle
Sardinia and Maremma's pestilent fen,
Had heap'd their maladies all in one foss
Together; such was here the torment: dire
The stench, as issuing steams from fester'd limbs.
     We on the utmost shore of the long rock
Descended still to leftward.  Then my sight
Was livelier to explore the depth, wherein
The minister of the most mighty Lord,
All-searching Justice, dooms to punishment
The forgers noted on her dread record.
     More rueful was it not methinks to see
The nation in Aegina droop, what time
Each living thing, e'en to the little worm,
All fell, so full of malice was the air
(And afterward, as bards of yore have told,
The ancient people were restor'd anew
From seed of emmets) than was here to see
The spirits, that languish'd through the murky vale
Up-pil'd on many a stack.  Confus'd they lay,
One o'er the belly, o'er the shoulders one
Roll'd of another; sideling crawl'd a third
Along the dismal pathway.  Step by step
We journey'd on, in silence looking round
And list'ning those diseas'd, who strove in vain
To lift their forms.  Then two I mark'd, that sat
Propp'd 'gainst each other, as two brazen pans
Set to retain the heat.  From head to foot,
A tetter bark'd them round. Nor saw I e'er
Groom currying so fast, for whom his lord
Impatient waited, or himself perchance
Tir'd with long watching, as of these each one
Plied quickly his keen nails, through furiousness
Of ne'er abated pruriency.  The crust
Came drawn from underneath in flakes, like scales
Scrap'd from the bream or fish of broader mail.
     "O thou, who with thy fingers rendest off
Thy coat of proof," thus spake my guide to one,
"And sometimes makest tearing pincers of them,
Tell me if any born of Latian land
Be among these within: so may thy nails
Serve thee for everlasting to this toil."
     "Both are of Latium," weeping he replied,
"Whom tortur'd thus thou seest:  but who art thou
That hast inquir'd of us?"  To whom my guide:
"One that descend with this man, who yet lives,
From rock to rock, and show him hell's abyss."
     Then started they asunder, and each turn'd
Trembling toward us, with the rest, whose ear
Those words redounding struck.  To me my liege
Address'd him:  "Speak to them whate'er thou list."
     And I therewith began:  "So may no time
Filch your remembrance from the thoughts of men
In th' upper world, but after many suns
Survive it, as ye tell me, who ye are,
And of what race ye come.  Your punishment,
Unseemly and disgustful in its kind,
Deter you not from opening thus much to me."
     "Arezzo was my dwelling," answer'd one,
"And me Albero of Sienna brought
To die by fire; but that, for which I died,
Leads me not here.  True is in sport I told him,
That I had learn'd to wing my flight in air.
And he admiring much, as he was void
Of wisdom, will'd me to declare to him
The secret of mine art:  and only hence,
Because I made him not a Daedalus,
Prevail'd on one suppos'd his sire to burn me.
But Minos to this chasm last of the ten,
For that I practis'd alchemy on earth,
Has doom'd me.  Him no subterfuge eludes."
     Then to the bard I spake:  "Was ever race
Light as Sienna's?  Sure not France herself
Can show a tribe so frivolous and vain."
     The other leprous spirit heard my words,
And thus return'd:  "Be Stricca from this charge
Exempted, he who knew so temp'rately
To lay out fortune's gifts; and Niccolo
Who first the spice's costly luxury
Discover'd in that garden, where such seed
Roots deepest in the soil:  and be that troop
Exempted, with whom Caccia of Asciano
Lavish'd his vineyards and wide-spreading woods,
And his rare wisdom Abbagliato show'd
A spectacle for all.  That thou mayst know
Who seconds thee against the Siennese
Thus gladly, bend this way thy sharpen'd sight,
That well my face may answer to thy ken;
So shalt thou see I am Capocchio's ghost,
Who forg'd transmuted metals by the power
Of alchemy; and if I scan thee right,
Thus needs must well remember how I aped
Creative nature by my subtle art."
WHAT time resentment burn'd in Juno's breast
For Semele against the Theban blood,
As more than once in dire mischance was rued,
Such fatal frenzy seiz'd on Athamas,
That he his spouse beholding with a babe
Laden on either arm, "Spread out," he cried,
"The meshes, that I take the lioness
And the young lions at the pass:  "then forth
Stretch'd he his merciless talons, grasping one,
One helpless innocent, Learchus nam'd,
Whom swinging down he dash'd upon a rock,
And with her other burden self-destroy'd
The hapless mother plung'd:  and when the pride
Of all-presuming Troy fell from its height,
By fortune overwhelm'd, and the old king
With his realm perish'd, then did Hecuba,
A wretch forlorn and captive, when she saw
Polyxena first slaughter'd, and her son,
Her Polydorus, on the wild sea-beach
Next met the mourner's view, then reft of sense
Did she run barking even as a dog;
Such mighty power had grief to wrench her soul.
Bet ne'er the Furies or of Thebes or Troy
With such fell cruelty were seen, their goads
Infixing in the limbs of man or beast,
As now two pale and naked ghost I saw
That gnarling wildly scamper'd, like the swine
Excluded from his stye.  One reach'd Capocchio,
And in the neck-joint sticking deep his fangs,
Dragg'd him, that o'er the solid pavement rubb'd
His belly stretch'd out prone.  The other shape,
He of Arezzo, there left trembling, spake;
"That sprite of air is Schicchi; in like mood
Of random mischief vent he still his spite."
     To whom I answ'ring:  "Oh!  as thou dost hope,
The other may not flesh its jaws on thee,
Be patient to inform us, who it is,
Ere it speed hence."--" That is the ancient soul
Of wretched Myrrha," he replied, "who burn'd
With most unholy flame for her own sire,
And a false shape assuming, so perform'd
The deed of sin; e'en as the other there,
That onward passes, dar'd to counterfeit
Donati's features, to feign'd testament
The seal affixing, that himself might gain,
For his own share, the lady of the herd."
     When vanish'd the two furious shades, on whom
Mine eye was held, I turn'd it back to view
The other cursed spirits.  One I saw
In fashion like a lute, had but the groin
Been sever'd, where it meets the forked part.
Swoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbs
With ill-converted moisture, that the paunch
Suits not the visage, open'd wide his lips
Gasping as in the hectic man for drought,
One towards the chin, the other upward curl'd.
     "O ye, who in this world of misery,
Wherefore I know not, are exempt from pain,"
Thus he began, "attentively regard
Adamo's woe.  When living, full supply
Ne'er lack'd me of what most I coveted;
One drop of water now, alas!  I crave.
The rills, that glitter down the grassy slopes
Of Casentino, making fresh and soft
The banks whereby they glide to Arno's stream,
Stand ever in my view; and not in vain;
For more the pictur'd semblance dries me up,
Much more than the disease, which makes the flesh
Desert these shrivel'd cheeks.  So from the place,
Where I transgress'd, stern justice urging me,
Takes means to quicken more my lab'ring sighs.
There is Romena, where I falsified
The metal with the Baptist's form imprest,
For which on earth I left my body burnt.
But if I here might see the sorrowing soul
Of Guido, Alessandro, or their brother,
For Branda's limpid spring I would not change
The welcome sight.  One is e'en now within,
If truly the mad spirits tell, that round
Are wand'ring.  But wherein besteads me that?
My limbs are fetter'd.  Were I but so light,
That I each hundred years might move one inch,
I had set forth already on this path,
Seeking him out amidst the shapeless crew,
Although eleven miles it wind, not more
Than half of one across.  They brought me down
Among this tribe; induc'd by them I stamp'd
The florens with three carats of alloy."
     "Who are that abject pair," I next inquir'd,
"That closely bounding thee upon thy right
Lie smoking, like a band in winter steep'd
In the chill stream?"--"When to this gulf I dropt,"
He answer'd, "here I found them; since that hour
They have not turn'd, nor ever shall, I ween,
Till time hath run his course.  One is that dame
The false accuser of the Hebrew youth;
Sinon the other, that false Greek from Troy.
Sharp fever drains the reeky moistness out,
In such a cloud upsteam'd."  When that he heard,
One, gall'd perchance to be so darkly nam'd,
With clench'd hand smote him on the braced paunch,
That like a drum resounded:  but forthwith
Adamo smote him on the face, the blow
Returning with his arm, that seem'd as hard.
     "Though my o'erweighty limbs have ta'en from me
The power to move," said he, "I have an arm
At liberty for such employ."  To whom
Was answer'd:  "When thou wentest to the fire,
Thou hadst it not so ready at command,
Then readier when it coin'd th' impostor gold."
     And thus the dropsied:  "Ay, now speak'st thou true.
But there thou gav'st not such true testimony,
When thou wast question'd of the truth, at Troy."
     "If I spake false, thou falsely stamp'dst the coin,"
Said Sinon; "I am here but for one fault,
And thou for more than any imp beside."
     "Remember," he replied, "O perjur'd one,
The horse remember, that did teem with death,
And all the world be witness to thy guilt."
     "To thine," return'd the Greek, "witness the thirst
Whence thy tongue cracks, witness the fluid mound,
Rear'd by thy belly up before thine eyes,
A mass corrupt."  To whom the coiner thus:
"Thy mouth gapes wide as ever to let pass
Its evil saying.  Me if thirst assails,
Yet I am stuff'd with moisture.  Thou art parch'd,
Pains rack thy head, no urging would'st thou need
To make thee lap Narcissus' mirror up."
     I was all fix'd to listen, when my guide
Admonish'd:  "Now beware:  a little more.
And I do quarrel with thee."  I perceiv'd
How angrily he spake, and towards him turn'd
With shame so poignant, as remember'd yet
Confounds me.  As a man that dreams of harm
Befall'n him, dreaming wishes it a dream,
And that which is, desires as if it were not,
Such then was I, who wanting power to speak
Wish'd to excuse myself, and all the while
Excus'd me, though unweeting that I did.
     "More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame,"
My master cried, "might expiate.  Therefore cast
All sorrow from thy soul; and if again
Chance bring thee, where like conference is held,
Think I am ever at thy side.  To hear
Such wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds."
THE very tongue, whose keen reproof before
Had wounded me, that either cheek was stain'd,
Now minister'd my cure.  So have I heard,
Achilles and his father's javelin caus'd
Pain first, and then the boon of health restor'd.
     Turning our back upon the vale of woe,
W cross'd th' encircled mound in silence.  There
Was twilight dim, that far long the gloom
Mine eye advanc'd not:  but I heard a horn
Sounded aloud. The peal it blew had made
The thunder feeble.  Following its course
The adverse way, my strained eyes were bent
On that one spot.  So terrible a blast
Orlando blew not, when that dismal rout
O'erthrew the host of Charlemagne, and quench'd
His saintly warfare.  Thitherward not long
My head was rais'd, when many lofty towers
Methought I spied.  "Master," said I, "what land
Is this?"  He answer'd straight:  "Too long a space
Of intervening darkness has thine eye
To traverse:  thou hast therefore widely err'd
In thy imagining.  Thither arriv'd
Thou well shalt see, how distance can delude
The sense.  A little therefore urge thee on."
     Then tenderly he caught me by the hand;
"Yet know," said he, "ere farther we advance,
That it less strange may seem, these are not towers,
But giants.  In the pit they stand immers'd,
Each from his navel downward, round the bank."
     As when a fog disperseth gradually,
Our vision traces what the mist involves
Condens'd in air; so piercing through the gross
And gloomy atmosphere, as more and more
We near'd toward the brink, mine error fled,
And fear came o'er me.  As with circling round
Of turrets, Montereggion crowns his walls,
E'en thus the shore, encompassing th' abyss,
Was turreted with giants, half their length
Uprearing, horrible, whom Jove from heav'n
Yet threatens, when his mutt'ring thunder rolls.
     Of one already I descried the face,
Shoulders, and breast, and of the belly huge
Great part, and both arms down along his ribs.
     All-teeming nature, when her plastic hand
Left framing of these monsters, did display
Past doubt her wisdom, taking from mad War
Such slaves to do his bidding; and if she
Repent her not of th' elephant and whale,
Who ponders well confesses her therein
Wiser and more discreet; for when brute force
And evil will are back'd with subtlety,
Resistance none avails.  His visage seem'd
In length and bulk, as doth the pine, that tops
Saint Peter's Roman fane; and th' other bones
Of like proportion, so that from above
The bank, which girdled him below, such height
Arose his stature, that three Friezelanders
Had striv'n in vain to reach but to his hair.
Full thirty ample palms was he expos'd
Downward from whence a man his garments loops.
"Raphel bai ameth sabi almi,"
So shouted his fierce lips, which sweeter hymns
Became not; and my guide address'd him thus:
"O senseless spirit!  let thy horn for thee
Interpret:  therewith vent thy rage, if rage
Or other passion wring thee.  Search thy neck,
There shalt thou find the belt that binds it on.
Wild spirit!  lo, upon thy mighty breast
Where hangs the baldrick!"  Then to me he spake:
"He doth accuse himself.  Nimrod is this,
Through whose ill counsel in the world no more
One tongue prevails.  But pass we on, nor waste
Our words; for so each language is to him,
As his to others, understood by none."
     Then to the leftward turning sped we forth,
And at a sling's throw found another shade
Far fiercer and more huge.  I cannot say
What master hand had girt him; but he held
Behind the right arm fetter'd, and before
The other with a chain, that fasten'd him
From the neck down, and five times round his form
Apparent met the wreathed links.  "This proud one
Would of his strength against almighty Jove
Make trial," said my guide; "whence he is thus
Requited: Ephialtes him they call.
Great was his prowess, when the giants brought
Fear on the gods:  those arms, which then he piled,
Now moves he never."  Forthwith I return'd:
"Fain would I, if 't were possible, mine eyes
Of Briareus immeasurable gain'd
Experience next."  He answer'd: "Thou shalt see
Not far from hence Antaeus, who both speaks
And is unfetter'd, who shall place us there
Where guilt is at its depth.  Far onward stands
Whom thou wouldst fain behold, in chains, and made
Like to this spirit, save that in his looks
More fell he seems."  By violent earthquake rock'd
Ne'er shook a tow'r, so reeling to its base,
As Ephialtes.  More than ever then
I dreaded death, nor than the terror more
Had needed, if I had not seen the cords
That held him fast.  We, straightway journeying on,
Came to Antaeus, who five ells complete
Without the head, forth issued from the cave.
     "O thou, who in the fortunate vale, that made
Great Scipio heir of glory, when his sword
Drove back the troop of Hannibal in flight,
Who thence of old didst carry for thy spoil
An hundred lions; and if thou hadst fought
In the high conflict on thy brethren's side,
Seems as men yet believ'd, that through thine arm
The sons of earth had conquer'd, now vouchsafe
To place us down beneath, where numbing cold
Locks up Cocytus.  Force not that we crave
Or Tityus' help or Typhon's.  Here is one
Can give what in this realm ye covet.  Stoop
Therefore, nor scornfully distort thy lip.
He in the upper world can yet bestow
Renown on thee, for he doth live, and looks
For life yet longer, if before the time
Grace call him not unto herself."  Thus spake
The teacher.  He in haste forth stretch'd his hands,
And caught my guide.  Alcides whilom felt
That grapple straighten'd score.  Soon as my guide
Had felt it, he bespake me thus:  "This way
That I may clasp thee;" then so caught me up,
That we were both one burden.  As appears
The tower of Carisenda, from beneath
Where it doth lean, if chance a passing cloud
So sail across, that opposite it hangs,
Such then Antaeus seem'd, as at mine ease
I mark'd him stooping.  I were fain at times
T' have pass'd another way.  Yet in th' abyss,
That Lucifer with Judas low ingulfs,
I,ightly he plac'd us; nor there leaning stay'd,
But rose as in a bark the stately mast.
COULD I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suit
That hole of sorrow, o'er which ev'ry rock
His firm abutment rears, then might the vein
Of fancy rise full springing:  but not mine
Such measures, and with falt'ring awe I touch
The mighty theme; for to describe the depth
Of all the universe, is no emprize
To jest with, and demands a tongue not us'd
To infant babbling.  But let them assist
My song, the tuneful maidens, by whose aid
Amphion wall'd in Thebes, so with the truth
My speech shall best accord.  Oh ill-starr'd folk,
Beyond all others wretched!  who abide
In such a mansion, as scarce thought finds words
To speak of, better had ye here on earth
Been flocks or mountain goats.  As down we stood
In the dark pit beneath the giants' feet,
But lower far than they, and I did gaze
Still on the lofty battlement, a voice
Bespoke me thus:  "Look how thou walkest.  Take
Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads
Of thy poor brethren."  Thereupon I turn'd,
And saw before and underneath my feet
A lake, whose frozen surface liker seem'd
To glass than water.  Not so thick a veil
In winter e'er hath Austrian Danube spread
O'er his still course, nor Tanais far remote
Under the chilling sky.  Roll'd o'er that mass
Had Tabernich or Pietrapana fall'n,
Not e'en its rim had creak'd. As peeps the frog
Croaking above the wave, what time in dreams
The village gleaner oft pursues her toil,
So, to where modest shame appears, thus low
Blue pinch'd and shrin'd in ice the spirits stood,
Moving their teeth in shrill note like the stork.
His face each downward held; their mouth the cold,
Their eyes express'd the dolour of their heart.
     A space I look'd around, then at my feet
Saw two so strictly join'd, that of their head
The very hairs were mingled.  "Tell me ye,
Whose bosoms thus together press," said I,
"Who are ye?"  At that sound their necks they bent,
And when their looks were lifted up to me,
Straightway their eyes, before all moist within,
Distill'd upon their lips, and the frost bound
The tears betwixt those orbs and held them there.
Plank unto plank hath never cramp clos'd up
So stoutly.  Whence like two enraged goats
They clash'd together; them such fury seiz'd.
     And one, from whom the cold both ears had reft,
Exclaim'd, still looking downward: "Why on us
Dost speculate so long?  If thou wouldst know
Who are these two, the valley, whence his wave
Bisenzio slopes, did for its master own
Their sire Alberto, and next him themselves.
They from one body issued; and throughout
Caina thou mayst search, nor find a shade
More worthy in congealment to be fix'd,
Not him, whose breast and shadow Arthur's land
At that one blow dissever'd, not Focaccia,
No not this spirit, whose o'erjutting head
Obstructs my onward view:  he bore the name
Of Mascheroni:  Tuscan if thou be,
Well knowest who he was:  and to cut short
All further question, in my form behold
What once was Camiccione.  I await
Carlino here my kinsman, whose deep guilt
Shall wash out mine."  A thousand visages
Then mark'd I, which the keen and eager cold
Had shap'd into a doggish grin; whence creeps
A shiv'ring horror o'er me, at the thought
Of those frore shallows.  While we journey'd on
Toward the middle, at whose point unites
All heavy substance, and I trembling went
Through that eternal chillness, I know not
If will it were or destiny, or chance,
But, passing 'midst the heads, my foot did strike
With violent blow against the face of one.
     "Wherefore dost bruise me?" weeping, he exclaim'd,
"Unless thy errand be some fresh revenge
For Montaperto, wherefore troublest me?"
     I thus:  "Instructor, now await me here,
That I through him may rid me of my doubt.
Thenceforth what haste thou wilt."  The teacher paus'd,
And to that shade I spake, who bitterly
Still curs'd me in his wrath.  "What art thou, speak,
That railest thus on others?"  He replied:
"Now who art thou, that smiting others' cheeks
Through Antenora roamest, with such force
As were past suff'rance, wert thou living still?"
     "And I am living, to thy joy perchance,"
Was my reply, "if fame be dear to thee,
That with the rest I may thy name enrol."
     "The contrary of what I covet most,"
Said he, "thou tender'st:  hence; nor vex me more.
Ill knowest thou to flatter in this vale."
     Then seizing on his hinder scalp, I cried:
"Name thee, or not a hair shall tarry here."
     "Rend all away," he answer'd, "yet for that
I will not tell nor show thee who I am,
Though at my head thou pluck a thousand times."
     Now I had grasp'd his tresses, and stript off
More than one tuft, he barking, with his eyes
Drawn in and downward, when another cried,
"What ails thee, Bocca?  Sound not loud enough
Thy chatt'ring teeth, but thou must bark outright?
What devil wrings thee?"--" Now," said I, "be dumb,
Accursed traitor!  to thy shame of thee
True tidings will I bear."--" Off," he replied,
"Tell what thou list; but as thou escape from hence
To speak of him whose tongue hath been so glib,
Forget not:  here he wails the Frenchman's gold.
'Him of Duera,' thou canst say, 'I mark'd,
Where the starv'd sinners pine.'  If thou be ask'd
What other shade was with them, at thy side
Is Beccaria, whose red gorge distain'd
The biting axe of Florence.  Farther on,
If I misdeem not, Soldanieri bides,
With Ganellon, and Tribaldello, him
Who op'd Faenza when the people slept."
     We now had left him, passing on our way,
When I beheld two spirits by the ice
Pent in one hollow, that the head of one
Was cowl unto the other; and as bread
Is raven'd up through hunger, th' uppermost
Did so apply his fangs to th' other's brain,
Where the spine joins it.  Not more furiously
On Menalippus' temples Tydeus gnaw'd,
Than on that skull and on its garbage he.
     "O thou who show'st so beastly sign of hate
'Gainst him thou prey'st on, let me hear," said I
"The cause, on such condition, that if right
Warrant thy grievance, knowing who ye are,
And what the colour of his sinning was,
I may repay thee in the world above,
If that, wherewith I speak be moist so long."
CANTO XXXIII
HIS jaws uplifting from their fell repast,
That sinner wip'd them on the hairs o' th' head,
Which he behind had mangled, then began:
"Thy will obeying, I call up afresh
Sorrow past cure, which but to think of wrings
My heart, or ere I tell on't. But if words,
That I may utter, shall prove seed to bear
Fruit of eternal infamy to him,
The traitor whom I gnaw at, thou at once
Shalt see me speak and weep.  Who thou mayst be
I know not, nor how here below art come:
But Florentine thou seemest of a truth,
When I do hear thee.  Know I was on earth
Count Ugolino, and th' Archbishop he
Ruggieri.  Why I neighbour him so close,
Now list.  That through effect of his ill thoughts
In him my trust reposing, I was ta'en
And after murder'd, need is not I tell.
What therefore thou canst not have heard, that is,
How cruel was the murder, shalt thou hear,
And know if he have wrong'd me.  A small grate
Within that mew, which for my sake the name
Of famine bears, where others yet must pine,
Already through its opening sev'ral moons
Had shown me, when I slept the evil sleep,
That from the future tore the curtain off.
This one, methought, as master of the sport,
Rode forth to chase the gaunt wolf and his whelps
Unto the mountain, which forbids the sight
Of Lucca to the Pisan.  With lean brachs
Inquisitive and keen, before him rang'd
Lanfranchi with Sismondi and Gualandi.
After short course the father and the sons
Seem'd tir'd and lagging, and methought I saw
The sharp tusks gore their sides.  When I awoke
Before the dawn, amid their sleep I heard
My sons (for they were with me) weep and ask
For bread.  Right cruel art thou, if no pang
Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold;
And if not now, why use thy tears to flow?
Now had they waken'd; and the hour drew near
When they were wont to bring us food; the mind
Of each misgave him through his dream, and I
Heard, at its outlet underneath lock'd up
The' horrible tower:  whence uttering not a word
I look'd upon the visage of my sons.
I wept not:  so all stone I felt within.
They wept:  and one, my little Anslem, cried:
"Thou lookest so!  Father what ails thee?"  Yet
I shed no tear, nor answer'd all that day
Nor the next night, until another sun
Came out upon the world.  When a faint beam
Had to our doleful prison made its way,
And in four countenances I descry'd
The image of my own, on either hand
Through agony I bit, and they who thought
I did it through desire of feeding, rose
O' th' sudden, and cried, 'Father, we should grieve
Far less, if thou wouldst eat of us: thou gav'st
These weeds of miserable flesh we wear,
And do thou strip them off from us again.'
Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down
My spirit in stillness.  That day and the next
We all were silent.  Ah, obdurate earth!
Why open'dst not upon us?  When we came
To the fourth day, then Geddo at my feet
Outstretch'd did fling him, crying, 'Hast no help
For me, my father!'  "There he died, and e'en
Plainly as thou seest me, saw I the three
Fall one by one 'twixt the fifth day and sixth:
Whence I betook me now grown blind to grope
Over them all, and for three days aloud
Call'd on them who were dead.  Then fasting got
The mastery of grief."  Thus having spoke,
Once more upon the wretched skull his teeth
He fasten'd, like a mastiff's 'gainst the bone
Firm and unyielding.  Oh thou Pisa!  shame
Of all the people, who their dwelling make
In that fair region, where th' Italian voice
Is heard, since that thy neighbours are so slack
To punish, from their deep foundations rise
Capraia and Gorgona, and dam up
The mouth of Arno, that each soul in thee
May perish in the waters!  What if fame
Reported that thy castles were betray'd
By Ugolino, yet no right hadst thou
To stretch his children on the rack.  For them,
Brigata, Ugaccione, and the pair
Of gentle ones, of whom my song hath told,
Their tender years, thou modern Thebes!  did make
Uncapable of guilt.  Onward we pass'd,
Where others skarf'd in rugged folds of ice
Not on their feet were turn'd, but each revers'd
     There very weeping suffers not to weep;
For at their eyes grief seeking passage finds
Impediment, and rolling inward turns
For increase of sharp anguish:  the first tears
Hang cluster'd, and like crystal vizors show,
Under the socket brimming all the cup.
     Now though the cold had from my face dislodg'd
Each feeling, as 't were callous, yet me seem'd
Some breath of wind I felt.  "Whence cometh this,"
Said I, "my master?  Is not here below
All vapour quench'd?"--"'Thou shalt be speedily,"
He answer'd, "where thine eye shall tell thee whence
The cause descrying of this airy shower."
     Then cried out one in the chill crust who mourn'd:
"O souls so cruel!  that the farthest post
Hath been assign'd you, from this face remove
The harden'd veil, that I may vent the grief
Impregnate at my heart, some little space
Ere it congeal again!"  I thus replied:
"Say who thou wast, if thou wouldst have mine aid;
And if I extricate thee not, far down
As to the lowest ice may I descend!"
     "The friar Alberigo," answered he,
"Am I, who from the evil garden pluck'd
Its fruitage, and am here repaid, the date
More luscious for my fig."--"Hah!"  I exclaim'd,
"Art thou too dead!"--"How in the world aloft
It fareth with my body," answer'd he,
"I am right ignorant.  Such privilege
Hath Ptolomea, that ofttimes the soul
Drops hither, ere by Atropos divorc'd.
And that thou mayst wipe out more willingly
The glazed tear-drops that o'erlay mine eyes,
Know that the soul, that moment she betrays,
As I did, yields her body to a fiend
Who after moves and governs it at will,
Till all its time be rounded; headlong she
Falls to this cistern.  And perchance above
Doth yet appear the body of a ghost,
Who here behind me winters.  Him thou know'st,
If thou but newly art arriv'd below.
The years are many that have pass'd away,
Since to this fastness Branca Doria came."
     "Now," answer'd I, "methinks thou mockest me,
For Branca Doria never yet hath died,
But doth all natural functions of a man,
Eats, drinks, and sleeps, and putteth raiment on."
     He thus:  "Not yet unto that upper foss
By th' evil talons guarded, where the pitch
Tenacious boils, had Michael Zanche reach'd,
When this one left a demon in his stead
In his own body, and of one his kin,
Who with him treachery wrought.  But now put forth
Thy hand, and ope mine eyes."  I op'd them not.
Ill manners were best courtesy to him.
     Ah Genoese!  men perverse in every way,
With every foulness stain'd, why from the earth
Are ye not cancel'd?  Such an one of yours
I with Romagna's darkest spirit found,
As for his doings even now in soul
Is in Cocytus plung'd, and yet doth seem
In body still alive upon the earth.
"THE banners of Hell's Monarch do come forth
Towards us; therefore look," so spake my guide,
"If thou discern him."  As, when breathes a cloud
Heavy and dense, or when the shades of night
Fall on our hemisphere, seems view'd from far
A windmill, which the blast stirs briskly round,
Such was the fabric then methought I saw,
     To shield me from the wind, forthwith I drew
Behind my guide:  no covert else was there.
     Now came I (and with fear I bid my strain
Record the marvel) where the souls were all
Whelm'd underneath, transparent, as through glass
Pellucid the frail stem.  Some prone were laid,
Others stood upright, this upon the soles,
That on his head, a third with face to feet
Arch'd like a bow.  When to the point we came,
Whereat my guide was pleas'd that I should see
The creature eminent in beauty once,
He from before me stepp'd and made me pause.
     "Lo!"  he exclaim'd, "lo Dis! and lo the place,
Where thou hast need to arm thy heart with strength."
     How frozen and how faint I then became,
Ask me not, reader!  for I write it not,
Since words would fail to tell thee of my state.
I was not dead nor living.  Think thyself
If quick conception work in thee at all,
How I did feel.  That emperor, who sways
The realm of sorrow, at mid breast from th' ice
Stood forth; and I in stature am more like
A giant, than the giants are in his arms.
Mark now how great that whole must be, which suits
With such a part.  If he were beautiful
As he is hideous now, and yet did dare
To scowl upon his Maker, well from him
May all our mis'ry flow.  Oh what a sight!
How passing strange it seem'd, when I did spy
Upon his head three faces: one in front
Of hue vermilion, th' other two with this
Midway each shoulder join'd and at the crest;
The right 'twixt wan and yellow seem'd:  the left
To look on, such as come from whence old Nile
Stoops to the lowlands.  Under each shot forth
Two mighty wings, enormous as became
A bird so vast.  Sails never such I saw
Outstretch'd on the wide sea.  No plumes had they,
But were in texture like a bat, and these
He flapp'd i' th' air, that from him issued still
Three winds, wherewith Cocytus to its depth
Was frozen.  At six eyes he wept:  the tears
Adown three chins distill'd with bloody foam.
At every mouth his teeth a sinner champ'd
Bruis'd as with pond'rous engine, so that three
Were in this guise tormented.  But far more
Than from that gnawing, was the foremost pang'd
By the fierce rending, whence ofttimes the back
Was stript of all its skin.  "That upper spirit,
Who hath worse punishment," so spake my guide,
"Is Judas, he that hath his head within
And plies the feet without.  Of th' other two,
Whose heads are under, from the murky jaw
Who hangs, is Brutus:  lo!  how he doth writhe
And speaks not!  Th' other Cassius, that appears
So large of limb.  But night now re-ascends,
And it is time for parting.  All is seen."
     I clipp'd him round the neck, for so he bade;
And noting time and place, he, when the wings
Enough were op'd, caught fast the shaggy sides,
And down from pile to pile descending stepp'd
Between the thick fell and the jagged ice.
     Soon as he reach'd the point, whereat the thigh
Upon the swelling of the haunches turns,
My leader there with pain and struggling hard
Turn'd round his head, where his feet stood before,
And grappled at the fell, as one who mounts,
That into hell methought we turn'd again.
     "Expect that by such stairs as these," thus spake
The teacher, panting like a man forespent,
"We must depart from evil so extreme."
Then at a rocky opening issued forth,
And plac'd me on a brink to sit, next join'd
With wary step my side.  I rais'd mine eyes,
Believing that I Lucifer should see
Where he was lately left, but saw him now
With legs held upward.  Let the grosser sort,
Who see not what the point was I had pass'd,
Bethink them if sore toil oppress'd me then.
     "Arise," my master cried, "upon thy feet.
"The way is long, and much uncouth the road;
And now within one hour and half of noon
The sun returns."  It was no palace-hall
Lofty and luminous wherein we stood,
But natural dungeon where ill footing was
And scant supply of light.  "Ere from th' abyss
I sep'rate," thus when risen I began,
"My guide!  vouchsafe few words to set me free
From error's thralldom.  Where is now the ice?
How standeth he in posture thus revers'd?
And how from eve to morn in space so brief
Hath the sun made his transit?"  He in few
Thus answering spake:  "Thou deemest thou art still
On th' other side the centre, where I grasp'd
Th' abhorred worm, that boreth through the world.
Thou wast on th' other side, so long as I
Descended; when I turn'd, thou didst o'erpass
That point, to which from ev'ry part is dragg'd
All heavy substance.  Thou art now arriv'd
Under the hemisphere opposed to that,
Which the great continent doth overspread,
And underneath whose canopy expir'd
The Man, that was born sinless, and so liv'd.
Thy feet are planted on the smallest sphere,
Whose other aspect is Judecca.  Morn
Here rises, when there evening sets:  and he,
Whose shaggy pile was scal'd, yet standeth fix'd,
As at the first.  On this part he fell down
From heav'n; and th' earth, here prominent before,
Through fear of him did veil her with the sea,
And to our hemisphere retir'd.  Perchance
To shun him was the vacant space left here
By what of firm land on this side appears,
That sprang aloof."  There is a place beneath,
From Belzebub as distant, as extends
The vaulted tomb, discover'd not by sight,
But by the sound of brooklet, that descends
This way along the hollow of a rock,
Which, as it winds with no precipitous course,
The wave hath eaten.  By that hidden way
My guide and I did enter, to return
To the fair world:  and heedless of repose
We climbed, he first, I following his steps,
Till on our view the beautiful lights of heav'n
Dawn, through a circular opening in the cave:
Thus issuing we again beheld the stars.
NOTES TO HELL
Verse 1.  In the midway.]  That the era of the Poem is intended
by these words to be fixed to the thirty fifth year of the poet's
age, A.D. 1300, will appear more plainly in Canto XXI. where that
date is explicitly marked.
v. 16.  That planet's beam.]  The sun.
v. 29.  The hinder foot.]  It is to be remembered, that in
ascending a hill the weight of the body rests on the hinder foot.
v. 30.  A panther.]  Pleasure or luxury.
v. 36.  With those stars.]  The sun was in Aries, in which sign
he supposes it to have begun its course at the creation.
v. 43.  A lion.]  Pride or ambition.
v. 45.  A she wolf.]  Avarice.
v. 56.  Where the sun in silence rests.]  Hence Milton appears to
have taken his idea in the Samson Agonistes:
        The sun to me is dark
               And silent as the moon, &c
The same metaphor will recur, Canto V. v. 29.
        Into a place I came
       Where light was silent all.
v. 65.  When the power of Julius.] This is explained by the
commentators to mean "Although it was rather late with respect to
my birth before Julius Caesar assumed the supreme authority, and
made himself perpetual dictator."
v. 98.  That greyhound.]  This passage is intended as an eulogium
on the liberal spirit of his Veronese patron Can Grande della
v. 102.  'Twizt either Feltro.]  Verona, the country of Can della
Scala, is situated between Feltro, a city in the Marca
Trivigiana, and Monte Feltro, a city in the territory of Urbino.
v. 103.  Italia's plains.]  "Umile Italia," from Virgil, Aen lib.
        Humilemque videmus
       Italiam.
v. 115.  Content in fire.]  The spirits in Purgatory.
v. 118.  A spirit worthier.]  Beatrice, who conducts the Poet
through Paradise.
v. 130.  Saint Peter's gate.]  The gate of Purgatory, which the
Poet feigns to be guarded by an angel placed on that station by
v. 1.  Now was the day.]  A compendium of Virgil's description
Aen. lib. iv 522.  Nox erat, &c. Compare Apollonius Rhodius, lib
iii. 744, and lib. iv. 1058
v. 8.  O mind.]
        O thought that write all that I met,
        And in the tresorie it set
        Of my braine, now shall men see
        If any virtue in thee be.
               Chaucer.  Temple of Fame, b. ii. v.18
v. 14.  Silvius'sire.] Aeneas.
v. 30.  The chosen vessel.]  St.Paul, Acts, c. ix. v. 15.  "But
the Lord said unto him, Go thy way; for he is a chosen vessel
v. 46.  Thy soul.] L'anima tua e da viltate offesa. So in Berni,
Orl Inn.lib. iii. c. i. st. 53.
        Se l'alma avete offesa da viltate.
v. 64.  Who rest suspended.]  The spirits in Limbo, neither
admitted to a state of glory nor doomed to punishment.
v. 61.  A friend not of my fortune, but myself.]  Se non fortunae
sed hominibus solere esse amicum.  Cornelii Nepotis Attici Vitae,
v. 78.  Whatever is contain'd.]  Every other thing comprised
within the lunar heaven, which, being the lowest of all, has the
smallest circle.
v. 93.  A blessed dame.]  The divine mercy.
v. 97.  Lucia.]  The enlightening grace of heaven.
v. 124.  Three maids.]  The divine mercy, Lucia, and Beatrice.
v. 127.  As florets.]  This simile is well translated by
        But right as floures through the cold of night
        Iclosed, stoupen in her stalkes lowe,
        Redressen hem agen the sunne bright,
        And speden in her kinde course by rowe, &c.
               Troilus and Creseide, b.ii.
It has been imitated by many others, among whom see Berni,
Orl.Inn. Iib. 1. c. xii. st. 86.  Marino, Adone, c. xvii. st. 63.
and Sor. "Donna vestita di nero." and Spenser's Faery Queen, b.4.
c. xii. st. 34. and b. 6 c. ii. st. 35.
v. 5.          Power divine
        Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.]  The three
persons of the blessed Trinity.
v. 9.  all hope abandoned.] Lasciate ogni speranza voi
So Berni, Orl. Inn. lib. i. c. 8. st. 53.
        Lascia pur della vita ogni speranza.
v. 29.  Like to the sand.]
               Unnumber'd as the sands
        Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil
        Levied to side with warring winds, and poise
        Their lighter wings.
               Milton, P. L. ii. 908.
v. 40.  Lest th' accursed tribe.]  Lest the rebellious angels
should exult at seeing those who were neutral and therefore less
guilty, condemned to the same punishment with themselves.
v. 50.  A flag.]
               All the grisly legions that troop
        Under the sooty flag of Acheron
               Milton. Comus.
v. 56.         Who to base fear
        Yielding, abjur'd his high estate.] This is
commonly understood of Celestine the Fifth, who abdicated the
papal power in 1294. Venturi mentions a work written by
Innocenzio Barcellini, of the Celestine order, and printed in
Milan in 1701, In which an attempt is made to put a different
interpretation on this passage.
v. 70.  through the blear light.]
        Lo fioco lume
So Filicaja, canz. vi. st. 12.
        Qual fioco lume.
v. 77.  An old man.]
        Portitor has horrendus aquas et flumina servat
        Terribili squalore Charon, cui plurima mento
        Canities inculta jacet; stant lumina flamma.
               Virg. 7.  Aen. Iib. vi. 2.
v. 82.  In fierce heat and in ice.]
               The delighted spirit
        To bathe in fiery floods or to reside
        In thrilling regions of thick ribbed ice.
               Shakesp. Measure for Measure, a. iii.s.1.
Compare Milton, P. L. b. ii. 600.
v. 92.  The livid lake.] Vada livida.
               Virg. Aen. Iib. vi. 320
               Totius ut Lacus putidaeque paludis
        Lividissima, maximeque est profunda vorago.
               Catullus. xviii. 10.
v. 102.  With eyes of burning coal.]
        His looks were dreadful, and his fiery eyes
        Like two great beacons glared bright and wide.
               Spenser. F.Q. b. vi. c. vii.st. 42
v. 104.  As fall off the light of autumnal leaves.]
        Quam multa in silvis autumul frigore primo
        Lapsa cadunt folia.
               Virg. Aen. lib. vi. 309
Compare Apoll.  Rhod. lib. iv. 214.
v. 8.  A thund'rous sound.]  Imitated, as Mr. Thyer has remarked,
by Milton, P. L. b. viii. 242.
               But long ere our approaching heard
        Noise, other, than the sound of dance or song
        Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage.
v. 50.  a puissant one.]  Our Saviour.
v. 75.                 Honour the bard
        Sublime.]
        Onorate l'altissimo poeta.
So Chiabrera, Canz. Eroiche. 32.
        Onorando l'altissimo poeta.
v. 79.  Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad.]
        She nas to sober ne to glad.
               Chaucer's Dream.
v. 90.  The Monarch of sublimest song.]  Homer.
v. 100.  Fitter left untold.]
        Che'l tacere e bello,
So our Poet, in Canzone 14.
        La vide in parte che'l tacere e bello,
Ruccellai, Le Api, 789.
        Ch'a dire e brutto ed a tacerlo e bello
        "Vie pui bello e il tacerle, che il favellarne."
               Gli. Asol. lib. 1.
v. 117.  Electra.]  The daughter of Atlas, and mother of Dardanus
the founder of Troy.  See Virg. Aen. b. viii. 134. as referred to
by Dante in treatise "De Monarchia," lib. ii. "Electra, scilicet,
nata magni nombris regis Atlantis, ut de ambobus testimonium
reddit poeta noster in octavo ubi Aeneas ad Avandrum sic ait
        "Dardanus Iliacae," &c.
v. 125.  Julia.]  The daughter of Julius Caesar, and wife of
v. 126.  The Soldan fierce.]  Saladin or Salaheddin, the  rival
of  Richard coeur de lion.  See D'Herbelot, Bibl. Orient. and
Knolles's Hist. of the Turks p. 57 to 73 and the Life of Saladin,
by Bohao'edin Ebn Shedad, published by Albert Schultens, with a
Latin translation. He is introduced by Petrarch in the Triumph of
v. 128.  The master of the sapient throng.]
        Maestro di color che sanno.
Aristotle--Petrarch assigns the first place to Plato. See Triumph
of Fame, c. iii.
Pulci, in his Morgante Maggiore, c. xviii. says,
        Tu se'il maestro di color che sanno.
v. 132.               Democritus
        Who sets the world at chance.]
Democritus,who maintained the world to have been formed by the
fortuitous concourse of atoms.
v. 140.  Avicen.]  See D'Herbelot Bibl. Orient. article  Sina. He
died in 1050.  Pulci here again imitates our poet:
        Avicenna quel che il sentimento
        Intese di Aristotile e i segreti,
        Averrois che fece il gran comento.
               Morg. Mag. c. xxv.
v. 140.               Him who made
        That commentary vast, Averroes.]
Averroes, called by the Arabians Roschd, translated and commented
the works of Aristotle. According to Tiraboschi (storia della
Lett. Ital. t. v. 1. ii. c. ii. sect. 4.) he was the source of
modern philosophical impiety. The critic quotes some passages
from Petrarch (Senil. 1. v. ep. iii. et. Oper. v. ii. p. 1143) to
show how strongly such sentiments prevailed in the time of that
poet, by whom they were held in horror and detestation He adds,
that this fanatic admirer of Aristotle translated his writings
with that felicity, which might be expected from one who did not
know a syllable of Greek, and who was therefore compelled to
avail himself of the unfaithful Arabic versions. D'Herbelot, on
the other hand, informs us, that "Averroes was the first who
translated Aristotle from Greek into Arabic, before the Jews had
made their translation:  and that we had for a long time no other
text of Aristotle, except that of the Latin translation, which
was made from this Arabic version of this great philosopher
(Averroes), who afterwards added to it a very ample commentary,
of which Thomas Aquinas, and the other scholastic writers,
availed themselves, before the Greek originals of Aristotle and
his commentators were known to us in Europe." According to
D'Herbelot, he died in 1198: but Tiraboschi places that event
v. 5.  Grinning with ghastly feature.]  Hence Milton:
               Death
        Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile.
               P. L. b. ii. 845.
v. 46.  As cranes.]  This simile is imitated by Lorenzo de
Medici, in his Ambra, a poem, first published by Mr. Roscoe, in
the  Appendix to his Life of Lorenzo.
        Marking the tracts of air, the clamorous cranes
        Wheel their due flight in varied ranks descried:
        And each with outstretch'd neck his rank maintains
        In marshal'd order through th' ethereal void.
               Roscoe, v. i. c. v. p. 257.  4to edit.
Compare Homer.  Il. iii. 3. Virgil. Aeneid. 1 x. 264, and
Ruccellai, Le Api, 942, and Dante's Purgatory, Canto XXIV. 63.
v. 96.  The land.]  Ravenna.
v. 99  Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt.]
        Amor, Ch' al cor gentil ratto s'apprende.
A line taken by Marino, Adone, c. cxli. st. 251.
v. 102.  Love, that denial takes from none belov'd.]
        Amor, ch' a null' amato amar perdona.
So Boccacio, in his Filocopo. l.1.
        Amore mal non perdono l'amore a nullo amato.
And Pulci, in the Morgante Maggiore, c. iv.
        E perche amor mal volontier perdona,
        Che non sia al fin sempre amato chi ama.
Indeed many of the Italian poets have repeated this verse.
v. 105.  Caina.]  The place to which murderers are doomed.
v. 113.  Francesca.]  Francesca, daughter of Guido da Polenta,
lord of Ravenna, was given by her father in marriage to
Lanciotto, son of Malatesta, lord of Rimini, a man of
extraordinary courage, but deformed in his person. His brother
Paolo, who unhappily possessed those graces which the husband of
Francesca wanted, engaged her affections; and being taken in
adultery, they were both put to death by the enraged Lanciotto.
See Notes to Canto XXVII. v. 43
The whole of this passage is alluded to by Petrarch, in his
Triumph of Love c. iii.
        No greater grief than to remember days
        Of joy,xwhen mis'ry is at hand!]
Imitated by Marino:
        Che non ha doglia il misero maggiore
        Che ricordar la giola entro il dolore.
               Adone, c. xiv. st. 100
And by Fortiguerra:
               Rimembrare il ben perduto
        Fa piu meschino lo presente stato.
               Ricciardetto, c. xi. st. 83.
The original perhaps was in Boetius de Consol. Philosoph. "In
omni adversitate fortunae infelicissimum genus est infortunii
fuisse felicem et non esse." 1. 2. pr. 4
v. 124.  Lancelot.] One of the Knights of the Round Table, and
the lover of Ginevra, or Guinever, celebrated in romance.  The
incident alluded to seems to have made a strong impression on the
imagination of Dante, who introduces it again, less happily, in
the Paradise, Canto XVI.
v. 128.  At one point.]
        Questo quel punto fu, che sol mi vinse.
               Tasso, Il Torrismondo, a. i. s. 3.
v. 136.  And like a corpse fell to the ground ]
        E caddi, come corpo morto cade.
        E cadde come morto in terra cade.
Morgante Maggoire, c. xxii
v. 1.  My sense reviving.]
        Al tornar della mente, che si chiuse
        Dinanzi alla pieta de' duo cognati.
Berni has made a sportive application of these lines, in his Orl.
Inn. l. iii. c.  viii. st. 1.
v. 21.  That great worm.]  So in Canto XXXIV Lucifer is called
        Th' abhorred worm, that boreth through the world.
Ariosto has imitated Dante:
        Ch' al gran verme infernal mette la briglia,
        E che di lui come a lei par dispone.
               Orl. Fur. c. xlvi. st. 76.
v. 52.  Ciacco.]  So called from his inordinate appetite: Ciacco,
in Italian, signifying a pig. The real name of this glutton has
not been transmitted to us. He is introduced in Boccaccio's
Decameron, Giorn. ix. Nov. 8.
v. 61.  The divided city.]  The city of Florence, divided into
the Bianchi and Neri factions.
v. 65.  The wild party from the woods.]  So called, because it
was headed by Veri de' Cerchi, whose family had lately come into
the city from Acone, and the woody country of the Val di Nievole.
v. 66.  The other.]  The opposite parts of the Neri, at the head
of which was Corso Donati.
v. 67.  This must fall.] The Bianchi.
v. 69.         Of one, who under shore
        Now rests.]
Charles of Valois, by whose means the Neri were replaced.
v. 73.  The just are two in number.]  Who these two were, the
commentators are not agreed.
v. 79.  Of Farinata and Tegghiaio.]  See Canto X. and Notes, and
Canto XVI, and Notes.
v. 80.  Giacopo.] Giacopo Rusticucci.  See Canto XVI, and Notes.
v. 81.  Arrigo, Mosca.]  Of Arrigo, who is said by the
commentators to have been of the noble family of the Fifanti, no
mention afterwards occurs.  Mosca degli Uberti is introduced in
Canto XXVIII. v.
108.  Consult thy knowledge.]  We are referred to the following
passage in St. Augustin:--"Cum fiet resurrectio carnis, et
bonorum gaudia et malorum tormenta majora erunt. "--At the
resurrection of the flesh, both the happiness of the good and the
torments of the wicked will be increased."
v. 1.  Ah me!  O Satan!  Satan!]  Pape Satan, Pape Satan, aleppe.
Pape is said by the commentators to be the same as the Latin word
papae!  "strange!"  Of aleppe they do not give a more
satisfactory account.
See the Life of Benvenuto Cellini, translated by Dr. Nugent, v.
ii.  b. iii c. vii. p 113, where he mentions "having heard the
words Paix, paix, Satan!  allez, paix!  in the court of justice
at Paris.  I recollected what Dante said, when he with his master
Virgil entered the gates of hell: for Dante, and Giotto the
painter, were together in France, and visited Paris with
particular attention, where the court of justice may be
considered as hell.  Hence it is that Dante, who was likewise
perfect master of the French, made use of that expression, and I
have often been surprised that it was never understood in that
v. 12.  The first adulterer proud.]  Satan.
v. 22.  E'en as a billow.]
        As when two billows in the Irish sowndes
        Forcibly driven with contrarie tides
        Do meet together, each aback rebounds
        With roaring rage, and dashing on all sides,
        That filleth all the sea with foam, divides
        The doubtful current into divers waves.
               Spenser, F.Q. b. iv. c. 1. st. 42.
v. 48.  Popes and cardinals.]  Ariosto, having personified
Avarice as a strange and hideous monster, says of her--
        Peggio facea nella Romana corte
        Che v'avea uccisi Cardinali e Papi.
               Orl. Fur. c. xxvi. st. 32.
        Worse did she in the court of Rome, for there
        She had slain Popes and Cardinals.
v. 91.  By necessity.]  This sentiment called forth the
reprehension of Cecco d'Ascoli, in his Acerba, l. 1. c. i.
               In cio peccasti, O Fiorentin poeta, &c.
        Herein, O bard of Florence, didst thou err
        Laying it down that fortune's largesses
        Are fated to their goal.  Fortune is none,
        That reason cannot conquer. Mark thou, Dante,
        If any argument may gainsay this.
v. 18.  Phlegyas.]  Phlegyas, who was so incensed against Apollo
for having violated his daughter Coronis, that he set fire to the
temple of that deity, by whose vengeance he was cast into
Tartarus. See Virg. Aen. l. vi. 618.
v. 59.  Filippo Argenti.]  Boccaccio tells us, "he was a man
remarkable for the large proportions and extraordinary vigor of
his bodily frame, and the extreme waywardness and irascibility of
his temper." Decam. g. ix. n. 8.
v. 66.  The city, that of Dis is nam'd.]  So Ariosto. Orl. Fur.
c. xl. st. 32
v. 94.  Seven times.]  The commentators, says Venturi, perplex
themselves with the inquiry what seven perils these were from
which Dante had been delivered by Virgil.  Reckoning the beasts
in the first Canto as one of them, and adding Charon, Minos,
Cerberus, Plutus, Phlegyas and Filippo Argenti, as so many
others, we shall have the number, and if this be not
satisfactory, we may suppose a determinate to have been put for
an indeterminate number.
v. 109.  At war 'twixt will and will not.]
        Che si, e no nel capo mi tenzona.
So Boccaccio, Ninf. Fiesol. st. 233.
        Il si e il no nel capo gli contende.
The words I have adopted as a translation, are Shakespeare's,
Measure for Measure.  a. ii.  s.  1.
v. 122.  This their insolence, not new.]  Virgil assures our
poet, that these evil spirits had formerly shown the same
insolence when our Savior descended into hell. They attempted to
prevent him from entering at the gate, over which Dante had read
the fatal inscription.  "That gate which," says the Roman poet,
"an angel has just passed, by whose aid we shall overcome this
opposition, and gain admittance into the city."
v. 1.  The hue.]  Virgil, perceiving that Dante was pale with
fear, restrained those outward tokens of displeasure which his
own countenance had betrayed.
v. 23.  Erictho.]  Erictho, a Thessalian sorceress, according to
Lucan, Pharsal. l. vi. was employed by Sextus, son of Pompey the
Great, to conjure up a spirit, who should inform him of the issue
of the civil wars between his father and Caesar.
v. 25.                No long space my flesh
        Was naked of me.]
        Quae corpus complexa animae tam fortis inane.
               Ovid. Met. l. xiii f. 2
Dante appears to have fallen into a strange anachronism. Virgil's
death did not happen till long after this period.
v. 42.  Adders and cerastes.]
        Vipereum crinem vittis innexa cruentis.
               Virg. Aen. l. vi. 281.
        --spinaque vagi torquente cerastae
               . . . et torrida dipsas
        Et gravis in geminum vergens eaput amphisbaena.
                      Lucan. Pharsal. l. ix. 719.
        Scorpion and asp, and amphisbaena dire,
        Cerastes horn'd, hydrus and elops drear,
        And dipsas.
               P. L. b. x. 524.
v. 67.  A wind.]  Imitated by Berni, Orl. Inn. l. 1. e. ii. st.
v. 83.  With his wand.]
        She with her rod did softly smite the raile
        Which straight flew ope.
               Spenser. F. Q. b. iv. c. iii. st. 46.
v. 96.  What profits at the fays to but the horn.]  "Of what
avail can it be to offer violence to impassive beings?"
v. 97. Your Cerberus.]  Cerberus is feigned to have been dragged
by Hercules, bound with a three fold chain, of which, says the
angel, he still bears the marks.
v. 111.  The plains of Arles.] In Provence.  See Ariosto, Orl.
Fur. c. xxxix. st. 72
v. 112.  At Pola.]  A city of Istria, situated near the gulf of
Quarnaro, in the Adriatic sea.
v. 12.  Josaphat.]  It seems to have been a common opinion among
the Jews, as well as among many Christians, that the general
judgment will be held in the valley of Josaphat, or Jehoshaphat:
"I will also gather all nations, and will bring them down into
the valley of Jehoshaphat, and will plead with them there for my
people, and for my heritage Israel, whom they have scattered
among the nations, and parted my land."  Joel, iii. 2.
v. 32.  Farinata.]  Farinata degli Uberti, a noble Florentine,
was the leader of the Ghibelline faction, when they obtained a
signal victory over the Guelfi at Montaperto, near the river
Arbia.  Macchiavelli calls him "a man of exalted soul, and great
military talents."  Hist. of Flor. b. ii.
v. 52.  A shade.]  The spirit of Cavalcante Cavalcanti, a noble
Florentine, of the Guelph party.
v. 59.  My son.]  Guido, the son of Cavalcante Cavalcanti; "he
whom I call the first of my friends," says Dante in his Vita
Nuova, where the commencement of their friendship is related.
>From the character given of him by contemporary writers his
temper was well formed to assimilate with that of our poet. "He
was," according to G. Villani, l. viii. c. 41. "of a
philosophical and elegant mind, if he had not been too delicate
and fastidious." And Dino Compagni terms him "a young and noble
knight, brave and courteous, but of a lofty scornful spirit, much
addicted to solitude and study." Muratori. Rer. Ital. Script t. 9
l. 1. p. 481.  He died, either in exile at Serrazana, or soon
after his return to Florence, December 1300, during the spring of
which year the action of this poem is supposed to be passing.
v. 62.         Guido thy son
        Had in contempt.]
Guido Cavalcanti, being more given to philosophy than poetry, was
perhaps no great admirer of Virgil. Some poetical compositions by
Guido are, however, still extant; and his reputation for skill in
the art was such as to eclipse that of his predecessor and
namesake Guido Guinicelli, as we shall see in the Purgatory,
Canto XI.  His "Canzone sopra il Terreno Amore" was thought
worthy of being illustrated by numerous and ample commentaries.
Crescimbeni Ist. della Volg. Poes. l. v.
For a playful sonnet which Dante addressed to him, and a spirited
translation of it, see Hayley's Essay on Epic Poetry, Notes to
v. 66.  Saidst thou he had?]  In Aeschylus, the shade of Darius
is represented as inquiring with similar anxiety after the fate
of his son Xerxes.
[GREEK HERE]
Atossa:  Xerxes astonish'd, desolate, alone--
Ghost of Dar:  How will this end?  Nay, pause not.  Is he safe?
               The Persians.  Potter's Translation.
v. 77.  Not yet fifty times.]  "Not fifty months shall be passed,
before thou shalt learn, by woeful experience, the difficulty of
returning from banishment to thy native city"
v.83.  The slaughter.]  "By means of Farinata degli Uberti, the
Guelfi were conquered by the army of King Manfredi, near the
river Arbia, with so great a slaughter, that those who escaped
from that defeat took refuge not in Florence, which city they
considered as lost to them, but in Lucca."  Macchiavelli. Hist.
of Flor. b 2.
v. 86.  Such orisons.]  This appears to allude to certain prayers
which were offered up in the churches of Florence, for
deliverance from the hostile attempts of the Uberti.
v. 90.  Singly there I stood.]  Guido Novello assembled a council
of the Ghibellini at Empoli where it was agreed by all, that, in
order to maintain the ascendancy of the Ghibelline party in
Tuscany, it was necessary to destroy Florence, which could serve
only (the people of that city beingvGuelfi) to enable the party
attached to the church to recover its strength.  This cruel
sentence, passed upon so noble a city, met with no opposition
from any of its citizens or friends, except Farinata degli
Uberti, who openly and without reserve forbade the measure,
affirming that he had endured so many hardships, and encountered
so many dangers, with no other view than that of being able to
pass his days in his own country. Macchiavelli. Hist. of Flor. b.
v. 103.  My fault.]  Dante felt remorse for not having returned
an immediate answer to the inquiry of Cavalcante, from which
delay he was led to believe that his son Guido was no longer
v. 120.  Frederick.]  The Emperor Frederick the Second, who died
in 1250. See Notes to Canto XIII.
v. 121.  The Lord Cardinal.]  Ottaviano Ubaldini, a Florentine,
made Cardinal in 1245, and deceased about 1273.  On account of
his great influence, he was generally known by the appellation of
"the Cardinal."  It is reported of him that he declared, if there
were any such thing as a human soul, he had lost his for the
v. 132.  Her gracious beam.]  Beatrice.
v. 9.  Pope Anastasius.]  The commentators are not agreed
concerning the identity of the person, who is here mentioned as a
follower of the heretical Photinus.  By some he is supposed to
have been Anastasius the Second, by others, the Fourth of that
name; while a third set, jealous of the integrity of the papal
faith, contend that our poet has confounded him with Anastasius
1. Emperor of the East.
v. 17.  My son.]  The remainder of the present Canto may be
considered as a syllabus of the whole of this part of the poem.
v. 48.  And sorrows.]  This fine moral, that not to enjoy our
being is to be ungrateful to the Author of it, is well expressed
in Spenser, F. Q. b. iv. c. viii. st. 15.
        For he whose daies in wilful woe are worne
        The grace of his Creator doth despise,
        That will not use his gifts for thankless
v. 53.  Cahors.]  A city in Guienne, much frequented by usurers
v. 83.  Thy ethic page.]  He refers to Aristotle's Ethics.
[GREEK HERE]
"In the next place, entering, on another division of the subject,
let it be defined. that respecting morals there are three sorts
of things to be avoided, malice, incontinence, and brutishness."
v. 104.  Her laws.]  Aristotle's Physics.  [GREEK
HERE]  "Art imitates nature." --See the Coltivazione of Alamanni,
        -I'arte umana, &c.
v. 111.  Creation's holy book.]  Genesis, c. iii. v. 19. "In the
sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread."
v. 119.  The wain.] The constellation Bootes, or Charles's wain.
v. 17.  The king of Athens.]  Theseus, who was enabled, by the
instructions of Ariadne, the sister of the Minotaur, to destroy
that monster.
v. 21.  Like to a bull.]  [GREEK HERE] Homer Il. xvii 522
        As when some vig'rous youth with sharpen'd axe
        A pastur'd bullock smites behind the horns
        And hews the muscle through; he, at the stroke
        Springs forth and falls.
               Cowper's Translation.
v. 36.  He arriv'd.]  Our Saviour, who, according to Dante, when
he ascended from hell, carried with him the souls of the
patriarchs, and other just men, out of the first circle. See
v. 96.  Nessus.]  Our poet was probably induced, by the following
line in Ovid, to assign to Nessus the task of conducting them
over the ford:
        Nessus edit membrisque valens scitusque vadorum.
        Metam, l. ix.
And Ovid's authority was Sophocles, who says of this Centaur--
[GREEK HERE] Trach.570
        He in his arms, Evenus' stream
        Deep flowing, bore the passenger for hire
        Without or sail or billow cleaving oar.
v. 110.  Ezzolino.]  Ezzolino, or Azzolino di Romano, a most
cruel tyrant in the Marca Trivigiana, Lord of Padua, Vicenza,
Verona, and Brescia, who died in 1260.  His atrocities form the
subject of a Latin tragedy, called Eccerinis, by Albertino
Mussato, of Padua, the contemporary of Dante, and the most
elegant writer of Latin verse of that age.  See also the
Paradise, Canto IX. Berni Orl. Inn. l ii c. xxv. st. 50. Ariosto.
Orl. Fur. c. iii. st. 33. and Tassoni Secchia Rapita, c. viii.
v. 111.  Obizzo' of Este.]  Marquis of Ferrara and of the Marca
d'Ancona, was murdered by his own son (whom, for the most
unnatural act Dante calls his step-son), for the sake of the
treasures which his rapacity had amassed. See Ariosto. Orl. Fur.
c. iii. st 32.  He died in 1293 according to Gibbon.  Ant. of the
House of Brunswick. Posth. Works, v. ii. 4to.
v. 119.  He.]  "Henrie, the brother of this Edmund, and son to
the foresaid king of Almaine (Richard, brother of Henry III. of
England) as he returned from Affrike, where he had been with
Prince Edward, was slain at Viterbo in Italy (whither he was come
about business which he had to do with the Pope) by the hand of
Guy de Montfort, the son of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester,
in revenge of the same Simon's death.  The murther was committed
afore the high altar, as the same Henrie kneeled there to hear
divine service." A.D. 1272, Holinshed's chronicles p 275.  See
also Giov. Villani Hist. I. vii. c. 40.
v. 135.  On Sextus and on Pyrrhus.]  Sextus either the son of
Tarquin the Proud, or of Pompey the Great:  or as Vellutelli
conjectures, Sextus Claudius Nero, and Pyrrhus king of Epirus.
               The Rinieri, of Corneto this,
        Pazzo the other named.]
Two noted marauders, by whose depredations the public ways in
Italy were infested.  The latter was of the noble family of Pazzi
in Florence.
v. 10.  Betwixt Corneto and Cecina's stream.]  A wild and woody
tract of country, abounding in deer, goats, and wild boars.
Cecina is a river not far to the south of Leghorn, Corneto, a
small city on the same coast in the patrimony of the church.
v. 12.  The Strophades.]  See Virg. Aen. l. iii. 210.
v. 14.  Broad are their pennons.]  From Virg. Aen. l. iii. 216.
v. 48.  In my verse described.]  The commentators explain this,
"If he could have believed, in consequence of my assurances
alone, that of which he hath now had ocular proof, he would not
have stretched forth his hand against thee."  But I am of opinion
that Dante makes Virgil allude to his own story of Polydorus in
the third book of the Aeneid.
v. 56.  That pleasant word of thine.]  "Since you have inveigled
me to speak my holding forth so gratifying an expectation, let it
not displease you if I am as it were detained in the snare you
have spread for me, so as to be somewhat prolix in my answer."
v. 60. I it was.]  Pietro delle Vigne, a native of Capua, who,
from a low condition, raised himself by his eloquence and legal
knowledge to the office of Chancellor to the Emperor Frederick
II. whose confidence in him was such, that his influence in the
empire became unbounded.  The courtiers, envious of his exalted
situation, contrived, by means of forged letters, to make
Frederick believe that he held a secret and traitorous
intercourse with the Pope, who was then at enmity with the
Emperor.  In consequence of this supposed crime he was cruelly
condemned by his too credulous sovereign to lose his eyes, and,
being driven to despair by his unmerited calamity and disgrace,
he put an end to his life by dashing out his brains against the
walls of a church, in the year 1245.  Both Frederick and Pietro
delle Vigne composed verses in the Sicilian dialect which are yet
v. 67.  The harlot.]  Envy.  Chaucer alludes to this in the
Prologue to the Legende of Good women.
        Envie is lavender to the court alway,
        For she ne parteth neither night ne day
        Out of the house of Cesar; thus saith Dant.
v. 119.  Each fan o' th' wood.]  Hence perhaps Milton:
        Leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan.
               P. L. b. v. 6.
v. 122.  Lano.]  Lano, a Siennese, who, being reduced by
prodigality to a state of extreme want, found his existence no
longer supportable; and, having been sent by his countrymen on a
military expedition, to assist the Florentine against the
Aretini, took that opportunity of exposing himself to certain
death, in the engagement which took place at Toppo near Arezzo.
See G. Villani, Hist. l. 7. c. cxix.
v. 133.               O Giocomo
        Of Sant' Andrea!]
Jacopo da Sant' Andrea, a Paduan, who, having wasted his property
in the most wanton acts of profusion, killed himself in despair.
v. 144.  In that City.]  "I was an inhabitant of Florence, that
city which changed her first patron Mars for St. John the
Baptist, for which reason the vengeance of the deity thus
slighted will never be appeased:  and, if some remains of his
status were not still visible on the bridge over the Arno, she
would have been already leveled to the ground; and thus the
citizens, who raised her again from the ashes to which Attila had
reduced her, would have laboured in vain."  See Paradise, Canto
The relic of antiquity to which the superstition of Florence
attached so high an importance, was carried away by a flood, that
destroyed the bridge on which it stood, in the year 1337, but
without the ill effects that were apprehended from the loss of
their fancied Palladium.
v. 152.  I slung the fatal noose.]  We are not informed who this
suicide was.
v. 15.  By Cato's foot.]  See Lucan, Phars, l. 9.
v. 26. Dilated flakes of fire.]  Compare Tasso.  G. L. c. x. st.
v. 28.  As, in the torrid Indian clime.]  Landino refers to
Albertus Magnus for the circumstance here alluded to.
v. 53.  In Mongibello.]
        More hot than Aetn' or flaming Mongibell.
               Spenser, F. Q. b. ii. c. ix. st. 29.
See Virg. Aen. 1. viii. 416. and Berni. Orl. Inn 1. i. c. xvi.
st. 21.  It would be endless to refer to parallel passages in the
Greek writers.
v. 64.  This of the seven kings was one.]  Compare Aesch.  Seven
Chiefs, 425.  Euripides, Phoen. 1179 and Statius. Theb. l. x.
v. 76.  Bulicame.]  A warm medicinal spring near Viterbo, the
waters of which, as Landino and Vellutelli affirm, passed by a
place of ill fame.  Venturi, with less probability, conjectures
that Dante would imply, that it was the scene of much licentious
merriment among those who frequented its baths.
v. 91.  Under whose monarch.]
        Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam
        In terris.
               Juv. Satir. vi.
v. 102.  His head.]  Daniel, ch. ii. 32, 33.
v. 133.  Whither.] On the other side of Purgatory.
 v. 10.  Chiarentana.]  A part of the Alps where the Brenta
rises, which river is much swoln as soon as the snow begins to
dissolve on the mountains.
v. 28.  Brunetto.]  "Ser Brunetto, a Florentine, the secretary or
chancellor of the city, and Dante's preceptor, hath left us a
work so little read, that both the subject of it and the language
of it have been mistaken.  It is in the French spoken in the
reign of St. Louis,under the title of Tresor, and contains a
species of philosophical course of lectures divided into theory
and practice, or, as he expresses it, "un enchaussement des
choses divines et humaines," &c.  Sir R. Clayton's Translation of
Tenhove's Memoirs of the  Medici, vol. i.  ch.  ii.  p. 104.  The
Tresor has never been printed in the original language.  There is
a fine manuscript of it in the British Museum, with an
illuminated portrait of Brunetto in his  study prefixed.  Mus.
Brit. MSS. 17, E. 1. Tesor.  It is divided into four books, the
first, on Cosmogony and Theology, the second, a translation of
Aristotle's Ethics; the third on Virtues and Vices; the fourth,
on Rhetoric.  For an interesting memoir relating to this work,
see Hist. de l'Acad. des Inscriptions, tom. vii. 296.  His
Tesoretto, one of the earliest productions of Italian poetry, is
a curious work, not unlike the writings of Chaucer in style and
numbers, though Bembo remarks, that his pupil, however largely he
had stolen from it, could not have much enriched himself.  As it
is perhaps but little known, I will here add a slight sketch of
Brunetto describes himself as returning from an embassy to the
King of Spain, on which he had been sent by the Guelph party from
Florence.  On the plain of Roncesvalles he meets a scholar on a
bay mule, who tells him that the Guelfi are driven out of the
city with great loss.
Struck with grief at these mournful tidings, and musing with his
head bent downwards, he loses his road, and wanders into a wood.
Here Nature, whose figure is described with sublimity, appears,
and  discloses to him the secrets of her operations.  After this
he wanders into a desert; but at length proceeds on his way,
under the protection of a banner, with which Nature had furnished
him, till on the third day he finds himself in a large pleasant
champaign, where are assembled many emperors, kings, and sages.
It is the habitation of Virtue and her daughters, the four
Cardinal Virtues.  Here Brunetto sees also Courtesy, Bounty,
Loyalty, and Prowess, and hears the instructions they give to a
knight, which occupy about a fourth part of the poem.  Leaving
this territory, he passes over valleys, mountains, woods,
forests, and bridges, till he arrives in a beautiful valley
covered with flowers on all sides, and the richest in the world;
but which was continually  shifting its appearance from a round
figure to a square, from obscurity to light, and from
populousness to solitude.  This is the region of Pleasure, or
Cupid, who is accompanied by four ladies, Love, Hope, Fear, and
Desire.  In one part of it he meets with Ovid, and is instructed
by him how to conquer the passion of love, and to escape from
that place.  After his escape he makes his confession to a friar,
and then returns to the forest of visions:  and ascending a
mountain, he meets with Ptolemy, a venerable old man.  Here the
narrative breaks off. The  poem ends, as it began, with an
address to Rustico di Filippo, on whom he lavishes every sort of
It has been observed, that Dante derived the idea of opening his
poem by describing himself as lost in a wood, from the Tesoretto
of his master.  I know not whether it has been remarked, that the
crime of usury is branded by both these poets as offensive to God
and Nature:  or that the sin for which Brunetto is condemned by
his pupil, is mentioned in the Tesoretto with great horror.
Dante's twenty-fifth sonnet is a jocose one, addressed to
Brunetto.  He died in 1295.
v. 62.  Who in old times came down from Fesole.]  See G. Villani
Hist. l. iv. c. 5. and Macchiavelli Hist. of Flor. b. ii.
v. 89.  With another text.]  He refers to the prediction of
Farinata, in Canto X.
v. 110.  Priscian.]  There is no reason to believe, as the
commentators observe that the grammarian of this name was stained
with the vice imputed to him; and we must therefore suppose that
Dante puts the individual for the species, and implies the
frequency of the crime among those who abused the opportunities
which the education of youth afforded them, to so abominable a
v. 111.  Francesco.]  Son of Accorso, a Florentine, celebrated
for his skill in jurisprudence, and commonly known by the name of
v. 113.  Him.]  Andrea de' Mozzi, who, that his scandalous life
might be less exposed to observation, was translated either by
Nicholas III, or Boniface VIII from the see of Florence to that
of Vicenza, through which passes the river Baccchiglione.  At the
latter of these places he died.
v. 114.  The servants' servant.]  Servo de' servi.  So Ariosto,
               Degli servi
        Io sia il gran servo.
v. 124.  I commend my Treasure to thee.]  Brunetto's great work,
Sieti raccomandato 'l mio Tesoro.
So Giusto de' Conti, in his Bella Mano, Son.  "Occhi:"
        Siavi raccommandato il mio Tesoro.
v. 38.  Gualdrada.]  Gualdrada was the daughter of Bellincione
Berti, of whom mention is made in the Paradise, Canto XV, and
XVI.  He was of the family of Ravignani, a branch of the Adimari.
The Emperor Otho IV. being at a festival in Florence, where
Gualdrada was present, was struck with her beauty; and inquiring
who she was, was answered by Bellincione, that she was the
daughter of one who, if it was his Majesty's pleasure, would make
her admit the honour of his salute.  On overhearing this, she
arose from her seat, and blushing, in an animated tone of voice,
desired her father that he would not be so liberal in his offers,
for that no man should ever be allowed that freedom, except him
who should be her lawful husband.  The Emperor was not less
delighted by her resolute modesty than he had before been by the
loveliness of her person, and calling to him Guido, one of his
barons, gave her to him in marriage, at the same time raising him
to the rank of a count, and bestowing on her the whole of
Casentino, and a part of the territory of Romagna, as her
portion.  Two sons were the offspring of this union, Guglielmo
and Ruggieri, the latter of whom was father of Guidoguerra, a man
of great military skill and prowess who, at the head of four
hundred Florentines of the Guelph party, was signally
instrumental to the victory obtained at Benevento by Charles of
Anjou, over Manfredi, King of Naples, in 1265.   One of the
consequences of this victory was the expulsion of the Ghibellini,
and the re-establishment of the Guelfi at Florence.
v. 39.  Many a noble act.]  Compare Tasso, G. L. c. i. st. 1.
v. 42.  Aldobrandiu]  Tegghiaio Aldobrandi was of the noble
family of Adimari, and much esteemed for his military talents.
He endeavored to dissuade the Florentines from the attack, which
they meditated against the Siennese, and the rejection of his
counsel occasioned the memorable defeat, which the former
sustained at Montaperto, and the consequent banishment of the
Guelfi from Florence.
v. 45.  Rusticucci.]  Giacopo Rusticucci, a Florentine,
remarkable for his opulence and the generosity of his spirit.
v. 70.  Borsiere.]  Guglielmo Borsiere, another Florentine, whom
Boccaccio, in a story which he relates of him, terms "a man of
courteous and elegant manners, and of great readiness in
conversation."  Dec. Giorn. i. Nov. 8.
v. 84.  When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past.]
        Quando ti giovera dicere io fui.
So Tasso, G. L. c. xv. st. 38.
        Quando mi giovera narrar altrui
        Le novita vedute, e dire; io fui.
v. 121.  Ever to that truth.]  This memorable apophthegm is
repeated by Luigi Pulci and Trissino.
        Sempre a quel ver, ch' ha faccia di menzogna
        E piu senno tacer la lingua cheta
        Che spesso senza colpa fa vergogna.
               Morgante. Magg.  c. xxiv.
               La verita, che par mensogna
        Si dovrebbe tacer dall' uom ch'e saggio.
               Italia. Lib. C. xvi.
v. 1.  The fell monster.]  Fraud.
v. 53.  A pouch.]  A purse, whereon the armorial bearings of each
were emblazoned.  According to Landino, our poet implies that the
usurer can pretend to no other honour, than such as he derives
from his purse and his family.
v. 57.  A yellow purse.]  The arms of the Gianfigliazzi of
v. 60.  Another.]  Those of the Ubbriachi, another Florentine
family of high distinction.
v. 62.  A fat and azure swine.]  The arms of the Scrovigni a
noble family of Padua.
v. 66.  Vitaliano.]  Vitaliano del Dente, a Paduan.
v. 69.  That noble knight.]  Giovanni Bujamonti, a Florentine
usurer, the most infamous of his time.
v. 28.  With us beyond.]  Beyond the middle point they tended the
same way with us, but their pace was quicker than ours.
v. 29.  E'en thus the Romans.]  In the year 1300, Pope Boniface
VIII., to remedy the inconvenience occasioned by the press of
people who were passing over the bridge of St. Angelo during the
time of the Jubilee, caused it to be divided length wise by a
partition, and ordered, that all those who were going to St.
Peter's should keep one side, and those returning the other.
v. 50.  Venedico.]  Venedico Caccianimico, a Bolognese, who
prevailed on his sister Ghisola to prostitute herself to Obizzo
da  Este, Marquis of Ferrara, whom we have seen among the
tyrants, Canto XII.
v. 62.  To answer Sipa.]  He denotes Bologna by its situation
between the rivers Savena to the east, and Reno to the west of
that city; and by a peculiarity of dialect, the use of the
affirmative sipa instead of si.
v. 90.  Hypsipyle.]  See Appolonius Rhodius, l. i. and Valerius
Flaccus l.ii.  Hypsipyle deceived the other women by concealing
her father Thoas, when they had agreed to put all their males to
v. 120.  Alessio.]  Alessio, of an ancient and considerable
family in Lucca, called the Interminei.
v. 130.  Thais.]  He alludes to that passage in the Eunuchus of
Terence where Thraso asks if Thais was obliged to him for the
present he had sent her, and Gnatho replies, that she had
expressed her obligation in the most forcible terms.
        T.  Magnas vero agere gratias Thais mihi?
        G.  Ingentes.
               Eun. a. iii. s. i.
v. 18.  Saint John's fair dome.]  The apertures in the  rock were
of the same dimensions as the fonts of St. John the Baptist at
Florence, one of which, Dante says he had broken, to rescue a
child  that was playing near and fell in. He intimates that the
motive of his  breaking the font had been maliciously represented
by his enemies.
v. 55.  O Boniface!]  The spirit mistakes Dante for  Boniface
VIII. who was then alive, and who he did not expect would have
arrived so soon, in consequence, as it should seem, of a
prophecy, which  predicted the death of that Pope at a later
period. Boniface died in  1303.
v. 58.  In guile.]  "Thou didst presume to arrive by fraudulent
means at the papal power, and afterwards to abuse it."
v. 71.  In the mighty mantle I was rob'd.]  Nicholas III, of the
Orsini family, whom the poet therefore calls "figliuol dell'
orsa," "son of the she-bear."  He died in 1281.
v. 86.  From forth the west, a shepherd without law.]   Bertrand
de Got Archbishop of Bordeaux, who succeeded to the pontificate
in 1305, and assumed the title of Clement V. He transferred the
holy  see to Avignon in 1308 (where it remained till 1376), and
died in 1314.
v. 88.  A new Jason.]  See Maccabees, b. ii. c. iv. 7,8.
v. 97.  Nor Peter.]  Acts of the Apostles, c.i. 26.
v. 100.  The condemned soul.]  Judas.
v. 103.  Against Charles.]  Nicholas III. was enraged against
Charles I, King of Sicily, because he rejected with scorn a
proposition made by that Pope for an alliance between their
families.  See G. Villani, Hist. l. vii. c. liv.
v. 109.  Th' Evangelist.]  Rev. c. xvii. 1, 2, 3.  Compare
Petrarch.  Opera fol. ed. Basil. 1551. Epist. sine titulo liber.
ep. xvi. p. 729.
v. 118.  Ah, Constantine.]  He alludes to the pretended gift of
the Lateran by Constantine to Silvester, of which Dante himself
seems to imply a doubt, in his treatise "De Monarchia." - "Ergo
scindere Imperium, Imperatori non licet.  Si ergo aliquae,
dignitates per Constantinum essent alienatae, (ut dicunt) ab
Imperio," &c. l. iii.
The gift is by Ariosto very humorously placed in the moon, among
the things lost or abused on earth.
        Di varj fiori, &c.
               O. F. c. xxxiv. st. 80.
Milton has translated both this passage and that in the text.
Prose works, vol. i. p. 11. ed. 1753.
v. 11.  Revers'd.]  Compare Spenser, F. Q. b. i. c. viii.  st. 31
v. 30.  Before whose eyes.]  Amphiaraus, one of the seven kings
who besieged Thebes.  He is said to have been swallowed up by  an
opening of the earth.  See Lidgate's Storie of Thebes, Part III
where it is told how the "Bishop Amphiaraus" fell down to hell.
        And thus the devill for his outrages,
        Like his desert payed him his wages.
A different reason for his being doomed thus to perish is
assigned by Pindar.
[GREEK HERE]
               Nem ix.
        For thee, Amphiaraus, earth,
        By Jove's all-riving thunder cleft
        Her mighty bosom open'd wide,
        Thee and thy plunging steeds to hide,
        Or ever on thy back the spear
        Of Periclymenus impress'd
        A wound to shame thy warlike breast
        For struck with panic fear
        The gods' own children flee.
v. 37.  Tiresias.]
        Duo magnorum viridi coeuntia sylva
        Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu, &c.
               Ovid. Met. iii.
v. 43.  Aruns.]  Aruns is said to have dwelt in the  mountains of
Luni (from whence that territory is still called Lunigiana),
above Carrara, celebrated for its marble.  Lucan. Phars. l. i.
575.  So Boccaccio in the Fiammetta, l. iii.  "Quale Arunte," &c.
"Like Aruns, who amidst the white marbles of Luni, contemplated
the celestial bodies and their motions."
v. 50.  Manto.]  The daughter of Tiresias of Thebes, a city
dedicated to Bacchus.  From Manto Mantua, the country of Virgil
derives its name. The Poet proceeds to describe the situation of
v. 61.  Between the vale.]  The lake Benacus, now called  the
Lago di Garda, though here said to lie between Garda, Val
Camonica, and the Apennine, is, however, very distant from the
v. 63.  There is a spot.]  Prato di Fame, where the dioceses of
Trento, Verona, and Brescia met.
v. 69.  Peschiera.]  A garrison situated to the south of the
lake, where it empties itself and forms the Mincius.
v. 94.  Casalodi's madness.]  Alberto da Casalodi, who had got
possession of Mantua, was persuaded by Pinamonte Buonacossi, that
he might ingratiate himself with the people by banishing to their
own castles the nobles, who were obnoxious to them.  No sooner
was this done, than Pinamonte put himself at the head of the
populace, drove out Casalodi and his adherents, and obtained the
sovereignty for himself.
v. 111.  So sings my tragic strain.]
        Suspensi Eurypilum scitatum oracula Phoebi
        Mittimus.
               Virg. Aeneid. ii. 14.
v. 115.  Michael Scot.]  Sir Michael Scott, of Balwearie,
astrologer to the Emperor Frederick II. lived in the thirteenth
century.  For further particulars relating to this singular man,
see Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. i. diss. ii. and
sect. ix.  p 292, and the Notes to Mr. Scott's "Lay of the Last
Minstrel," a  poem in which a happy use is made of the traditions
that are still current in North Britain concerning him.  He is
mentioned by G. Villani. Hist. l. x. c. cv. and cxli. and l. xii.
c. xviii. and by Boccaccio, Dec. Giorn. viii. Nov. 9.
v. 116.  Guido Bonatti.]  An astrologer of Forli, on whose  skill
Guido da Montefeltro, lord of that place, so much relied, that he
is reported never to have gone into battle, except in the hour
recommended to him as fortunate by Bonatti.
Landino and Vellutello, speak of a book, which he composed on the
subject of his art.
v. 116.  Asdente.]  A shoemaker at Parma, who deserted his
business to practice the arts of divination.
v. 123.  Cain with fork of thorns.]  By Cain and the thorns, or
what is still vulgarly called the Man in the Moon, the Poet
denotes that luminary.  The same superstition is alluded to in
the Paradise, Canto II. 52.  The curious reader may consult Brand
on Popular Antiquities, 4to.  1813. vol. ii. p. 476.
v. 7.  In the Venetians' arsenal.]  Compare Ruccellai, Le  Api,
165, and Dryden's Annus Mirabilis, st. 146, &c.
v. 37.  One of Santa Zita's elders.]  The elders or chief
magistrates of Lucca, where Santa Zita was held in especial
veneration.  The name of this sinner is supposed to have been
Martino Botaio.
v. 40.  Except Bonturo, barterers.]  This is said ironically of
Bonturo de' Dati.  By barterers are meant peculators, of every
description; all who traffic the interests of the public  for
their own private advantage.
v. 48.  Is other swimming than in Serchio's wave.]
        Qui si nuota altrimenti che nel Serchio.
Serchio is the river that flows by Lucca.  So Pulci, Morg. Mag.
        Qui si nuota nel sangue, e non nel Serchio.
v. 92.  From Caprona.]  The surrender of the castle of Caprona to
the combined forces of Florence and Lucca, on condition that the
garrison should march out in safety, to which event Dante was a
witness, took place in 1290.  See G. Villani, Hist. l. vii. c.
v. 109.  Yesterday.]  This passage fixes the era of Dante's
descent at Good Friday, in the year 1300 (34 years from our
blessed  Lord's incarnation being added to 1266), and at the
thirty-fifth  year of our poet's age. See Canto I. v. 1.
The awful event alluded to, the Evangelists inform us, happened
"at the ninth hour," that is, our sixth, when "the rocks  were
rent," and the convulsion, according to Dante, was felt even in
the depths in Hell.  See Canto XII. 38.
v. 16.  In the church.]  This proverb is repeated by Pulci, Morg.
Magg. c. xvii.
v. 47.  Born in Navarre's domain.]  The name of this peculator is
said to have been Ciampolo.
v. 51.  The good king Thibault.]  "Thibault I. king of Navarre,
died on the 8th of June, 1233, as much to be commended for the
desire he showed of aiding the war in the Holy Land, as
reprehensible and faulty for his design of oppressing the rights
and privileges of the church, on which account it is said that
the whole kingdom was under an interdict for the space of three
entire years.  Thibault undoubtedly merits praise, as for his
other endowments, so especially for his cultivation of the
liberal arts, his exercise and knowledge of music and poetry in
which he much excelled, that he was accustomed to compose verses
and sing them to the viol, and to exhibit his poetical
compositions publicly in his palace, that they might be
criticized by all."  Mariana, History of Spain, b. xiii.  c. 9.
An account of Thibault, and two of his songs, with what were
probably the original melodies, may be seen in Dr. Burney's
History of Music, v. ii. c. iv.  His poems, which are in the
French language, were edited by M. l'Eveque de la Ravalliere.
Paris.  1742. 2 vol. 12mo.  Dante twice quotes one of his verses
in the Treatise de Vulg. Eloq. l. i. c. ix. and l. ii. c. v. and
refers to him again, l. ii. c. vi.
From "the good king Thibault" are descended the good, but more
unfortunate monarch, Louis XVI. of France, and consequently the
present legitimate sovereign of that realm.  See Henault, Abrege
Chron. 1252, 2, 4.
v. 80.  The friar Gomita.]  He was entrusted by Nino de' Visconti
with the government of Gallura, one of the four jurisdictions
into which Sardinia was divided.  Having his master's enemies in
his power, he took a bribe from them, and allowed them to escape.
Mention of Nino will recur in the Notes to Canto XXXIII. and in
the Purgatory, Canto VIII.
v. 88.  Michel Zanche.]  The president of Logodoro, another of
the four Sardinian jurisdictions.  See Canto XXXIII.
v. 5.  Aesop's fable.]  The fable of the frog, who offered to
carry the mouse across a ditch, with the intention of drowning
him  when both were carried off by a kite.  It is not among those
Greek Fables  which go under the name of Aesop.
v. 63.  Monks in Cologne.]  They wore their cowls unusually
v. 66.  Frederick's.]  The Emperor Frederick II. is said to have
punished those who were guilty of high treason, by wrapping them
up in lead, and casting them into a furnace.
v. 101.  Our bonnets gleaming bright with orange hue.]  It is
observed by Venturi, that the word "rance" does not here signify
"rancid or disgustful," as it is explained by the old
commentators, but "orange-coloured," in which sense it occurs in
the  Purgatory, Canto II. 9.
v. 104.  Joyous friars.]  "Those who ruled the city of Florence
on the part of the Ghibillines, perceiving this discontent and
murmuring, which they were fearful might produce a rebellion
against themselves, in order to satisfy the people, made choice
of two knights, Frati Godenti (joyous friars) of Bologna, on whom
they  conferred the chief power in Florence.  One named M.
Catalano de'  Malavolti, the other M. Loderingo di Liandolo; one
an adherent of the Guelph, the other of the Ghibelline party.  It
is to be remarked, that the Joyous Friars were called Knights of
St. Mary, and became knights on taking that habit:  their robes
were white, the mantle sable, and the arms a white field and red
cross with two stars.  Their office was to defend widows and
orphans; they were to act as mediators; they had internal
regulations like other religious bodies.  The  above-mentioned M.
Loderingo was the founder of that order.  But it was not long
before they too well deserved the appellation given them, and
were found to be more bent on enjoying themselves than on any
other  subject.  These two friars were called in by the
Florentines, and had a residence assigned them in the palace
belonging to the people over against the Abbey.  Such was the
dependence placed on the character of their order that it was
expected they would be impartial, and would save the commonwealth
any unnecessary expense; instead of which, though inclined to
opposite parties, they secretly and hypocritically concurred in
promoting their own advantage rather than the public good."  G.
Villani, b. vii. c.13.  This happened in 1266.
v. 110.  Gardingo's vicinage.]  The name of that part of the city
which was inhabited by the powerful Ghibelline family of Uberti,
and destroyed under the partial and iniquitous administration of
Catalano and Loderingo.
v. 117.  That pierced spirit.]  Caiaphas.
v. 124.  The father of his consort.]  Annas, father-in-law to
v. 146.  He is a liar.]  John, c. viii. 44.  Dante had perhaps
heard this text from one of the pulpits in Bologna.
 v. 1.  In the year's early nonage.]  "At the latter part of
January, when the sun enters into Aquarius, and the equinox is
drawing near, when the hoar-frosts in the morning often wear the
appearance of snow but are melted by the rising sun."
v. 51.  Vanquish thy weariness.]
               Quin corpus onustum
        Hesternis vitiis animum quoque praegravat una,
        Atque affigit humi divinae particulam aurae.
               Hor. Sat. ii. l. ii. 78.
v. 82.  Of her sands.]  Compare Lucan, Phars. l. ix. 703.
v. 92.  Heliotrope.]  The occult properties of this stone are
described by Solinus, c. xl, and by Boccaccio, in his humorous
tale  of Calandrino. Decam. G. viii. N. 3.
In Chiabrera's Ruggiero, Scaltrimento begs of Sofia, who is
sending him on a perilous errand, to lend him the heliotrope.
               In mia man fida
        L'elitropia, per cui possa involarmi
        Secondo il mio talento agli occhi altrui.
               c. vi.
        Trust to my hand the heliotrope, by which
        I may at will from others' eyes conceal me
Compare Ariosto, II Negromante, a. 3. s. 3.  Pulci, Morg.  Magg.
c xxv. and Fortiguerra, Ricciardetto, c. x. st. 17.
Gower in his Confessio Amantis, lib. vii, enumerates it among the
jewels in the diadem of the sun.
        Jaspis and helitropius.
v. 104.  The Arabian phoenix.]  This is translated from Ovid,
Metam. l. xv.
        Una est quae reparat, seque ipsa reseminat ales,
See also Petrarch, Canzone:
        "Qual piu," &c.
v. 120.  Vanni Fucci.]  He is said to have been an illegitimate
offspring of the family of Lazari in Pistoia, and, having robbed
the sacristy of the church of St. James in that city, to have
charged Vanni della Nona with the sacrilege, in consequence of
which accusation the latter suffered death.
v. 142.  Pistoia.]  "In May 1301, the Bianchi party, of Pistoia,
with the assistance and favor of the Bianchi who ruled Florence,
drove out the Neri party from the former place, destroying their
houses, Palaces and farms."  Giov. Villani, Hist. l. viii. e
v. 144.  From Valdimagra.]  The commentators explain this
prophetical threat to allude to the victory obtained by the
Marquis Marcello Malaspina of Valdimagra (a tract of country now
called the Lunigiana) who put himself at the head of the Neri and
defeated their opponents the Bianchi, in the Campo Piceno near
Pistoia, soon after the occurrence related in the preceding note.
Of this engagement I find no mention in Villani.  Currado
Malaspina is introduced in the eighth Canto of Purgatory; where
it appears that, although on the present occaision they espoused
contrary sides, some important favours were nevertheless
conferred by that family on our poet at a subsequent perid of his
exile in 1307.
v.1.  The sinner ]  So Trissino
        Poi facea con le man le fiche al cielo
        Dicendo:  Togli, Iddio; che puoi piu farmi?
               L'ital. Lib. c. xii
v. 12.  Thy seed]  Thy ancestry.
v. 15.  Not him]  Capanaeus.  Canto XIV.
v. 18.  On Marenna's marsh.]  An extensive tract near the
sea-shore in Tuscany.
v. 24.  Cacus.]  Virgil, Aen. l. viii. 193.
v. 31.  A hundred blows.]  Less than ten blows, out of the
hundred Hercules gave him, deprived him of feeling.
v. 39.  Cianfa]  He is said to have been of the family of Donati
at Florence.
v. 57.  Thus up the shrinking paper.]
        --All my bowels crumble up to dust.
        I am a scribbled form, drawn up with a pen
        Upon a parchment; and against this fire
        Do I shrink up.
               Shakespeare, K. John, a. v. s. 7.
v. 61.  Agnello.]  Agnello Brunelleschi
v. 77.  In that part.]  The navel.
v. 81.  As if by sleep or fev'rous fit assail'd.]
               O Rome!  thy head
        Is drown'd in sleep, and all thy body fev'ry.
               Ben Jonson's Catiline.
v. 85.  Lucan.]  Phars. l. ix. 766 and 793.
v. 87.  Ovid.] Metam. l. iv. and v.
v. 121.  His sharpen'd visage.]  Compare Milton, P. L. b. x. 511
v. 131.  Buoso.]  He is said to have been of the Donati family.
v. 138.  Sciancato.]  Puccio Sciancato, a noted robber, whose
familly, Venturi says, he has not been able to discover.
v. 140.  Gaville.]  Francesco Guercio Cavalcante was killed at
Gaville, near Florence; and in revenge of his death several
inhabitants of that district were put to death.
v. 7. But if our minds.]
        Namque sub Auroram, jam dormitante lucerna,
        Somnia quo cerni tempore vera solent.
               Ovid, Epist. xix
The same poetical superstition is alluded to in the Purgatory,
Cant. IX. and XXVII.
v. 9. Shall feel what Prato.]  The poet prognosticates the
calamities which were soon to befal his native city, and which he
says, even her nearest neighbor, Prato, would wish her.  The
calamities more particularly pointed at, are said to be the fall
of a wooden bridge over the Arno, in May, 1304, where a large
multitude were assembled to witness a representation  of hell nnd
the infernal torments, in consequence of which accident many
lives were lost; and a conflagration that in the following month
destroyed more than seventeen hundred houses, many ofthem
sumptuous buildings.  See G. Villani, Hist. l. viii. c. 70 and
v. 22.  More than I am wont.]  "When I reflect on the punishment
allotted to those who do not give sincere and upright advice to
others I am more anxious than ever not to abuse to so bad a
purpose those talents, whatever they may be, which Nature, or
rather Providence, has conferred on me."  It is probable that
this declaration was the result of real feeling Textd have
given great weight to
any opinion or party he had espoused, and to whom indigence and
exile might have offerred strong temptations to deviate from that
line of conduct which a strict sense of duty prescribed.
v. 35.  as he, whose wrongs.] Kings, b. ii. c. ii.
v. 54.  ascending from that funeral pile.] The flame is said to
have divided on the funeral pile which consumed tile bodies of
Eteocles and Polynices, as if conscious of the enmity that
actuated them while living.
        Ecce iterum fratris, &c.
               Statius, Theb. l. xii.
        Ostendens confectas flamma, &c.
               Lucan, Pharsal. l. 1. 145.
v. 60.  The ambush of the horse.]  "The ambush of the wooden
horse, that caused Aeneas to quit the city of Troy and seek his
fortune in Italy, where his descendants founded the Roman
v. 91.  Caieta.]  Virgil, Aeneid. l. vii. 1.
v. 93.  Nor fondness for my son] Imitated hp Tasso, G. L. c.
        Ne timor di fatica o di periglio,
        Ne vaghezza del regno, ne pietade
        Del vecchio genitor, si degno affetto
        Intiepedir nel generoso petto.
This imagined voyage of Ulysses into the Atlantic is alluded to
        E sopratutto commendava Ulisse,
        Che per veder nell' altro mondo gisse.
               Morg. Magg. c. xxv
And by Tasso, G. L. c. xv. 25.
v. 106.  The strait pass.]  The straits of Gibraltar.
v. 122.  Made our oars wings.l So Chiabrera, Cant. Eroiche. xiii
               Faro de'remi un volo.
And Tasso Ibid. 26.
v. 128.  A mountain dim.] The mountain of Purgatorg
CANTO XXVII.
v. 6.  The Sicilian Bull.] The engine of torture invented by
Perillus, for the tyrant Phalaris.
v. 26.  Of the mountains there.]  Montefeltro.
v. 38.  Polenta's eagle.]  Guido Novello da Polenta, who bore an
eagle for his coat of arms.  The name of Polenta was derived from
a castle so called in the neighbourhood of Brittonoro.  Cervia is
a small maritime city, about fifteen miles to the south of
Ravenna.  Guido was the son of Ostasio da Polenta, and made
himself master of Ravenna, in 1265.  In 1322 he was deprived of
his sovereignty, and died at Bologna in the year following.  This
last and most munificent patron of Dante is himself enumerated,
by the historian of Italian literature, among the poets of his
time.  Tiraboschi, Storia della Lett. Ital. t. v. 1. iii. c. ii.
13.  The passnge in the text might have removed the uncertainty
wwhich Tiraboschi expressed, respecting the duration of Guido's
absence from Ravenna, when he was driven from that city in 1295,
by the arms of Pietro, archbishop of Monreale.  It must evidently
have been very short, since his government is here represented
(in 1300) as not having suffered any material disturbance for
v. 41.  The land.l The territory of Forli, the inhabitants of
which, in 1282, mere enabled, hy the strategem of Guido da
Montefeltro,  who then governed it, to defeat with great
slaughter the French army by which it had been besieged.  See G.
Villani, l. vii. c. 81.  The poet informs Guido, its former
ruler, that it is now in the possession of Sinibaldo Ordolaffi,
or Ardelaffi, whom he designates by his coat of arms, a lion
v. 43.  The old mastiff of Verucchio and the young.]  Malatesta
and Malatestino his son, lords of Rimini, called, from their
ferocity, the mastiffs of Verruchio, which was the name of their
v. 44.  Montagna.]  Montagna de'Parcitati, a noble knight, and
leader of the Ghibelline party at Rimini, murdered by
Malatestino.
v. 46.  Lamone's city and Santerno's.]  Lamone is the river at
Faenza, and Santerno at Imola.
v. 47.  The lion of the snowy lair.]  Machinardo Pagano, whose
arms were a lion azure on a field argent; mentioned again in the
Purgatory, Canto XIV. 122.  See G. Villani passim, where he is
called Machinardo da Susinana.
v. 50.  Whose flank is wash'd of SSavio's wave.]  Cesena,
situated at the foot of a mountain, and washed by the river
Savio, that often descends with a swoln and rapid stream from the
v. 64.  A man of arms.]  Guido da Montefeltro.
v. 68.  The high priest.]  Boniface VIII.
v. 72.  The nature of the lion than the fox.]
        Non furon leonine ma di volpe.
So Pulci, Morg. Magg. c. xix.
        E furon le sua opre e le sue colpe
        Non creder leonine ma di volpe.
v. 81. The chief of the new Pharisee.]  Boniface VIII. whose
enmity to the family of Colonna prompted him to destroy their
houses near the Lateran.  Wishing to obtain possession of their
other seat, Penestrino, he consulted with Guido da Montefeltro
how he might accomplish his purpose, offering him at the same
time absolution for his past sins, as well as for that which he
was then tempting him to commit.  Guido's advice was, that kind
words and fair promises nonld put his enemies into his power; and
they accordingly soon aftermards fell into the snare laid for
them, A.D. 1298. See G. Villani, l. viii. c. 23.
v. 84.          Nor against Acre one
               Had fought.]
He alludes to the renegade Christians, by whom the Saracens, in
Apri., 1291, were assisted to recover St.John d'Acre, the last
possession of the Christians in the Iloly Land. The regret
expressed by the Florentine annalist G. Villani, for the loss of
this valuable fortress, is well worthy of observation, l. vii. c.
v. 89.  As in Soracte Constantine besought.]  So in Dante's
treatise De Monarchia:  "Dicunt quidam adhue, quod Constantinus
Imperator, mundatus a lepra intercessione Syvestri, tunc summni
pontificis imperii sedem, scilicet Romam, donavit ecclesiae, cum
multis allis imperii dignitatibus."  Lib.iii.
v. 101.  My predecessor.]  Celestine V. See Notes to Canto III.
CANTO XXVIII.
v.8.  In that long war.]  The war of Hannibal in Italy.  "When
Mago brought news of his victories to Carthage, in order to make
his successes more easily credited, he commanded the golden rings
to be poured out in the senate house, which made so large a heap,
that, as some relate, they filled three modii and a half.  A more
probable account represents them not to have exceeded one
modius."  Livy, Hist.
v. 12.  Guiscard's Norman steel.]  Robert Guiscard, who conquered
the kingdom of Naples, and died in 1110.  G. Villani, l. iv. c.
18.  He is introduced in the Paradise, Canto XVIII.
v. 13.  And those the rest.] The army of Manfredi, which, through
the treachery of the Apulian troops, wns overcome by Charles of
Anjou in 1205, and fell in such numbers that the bones of the
slain were still gathered near Ceperano.  G. Villani, l. vii. c.
9.  See the Purgatory, Canto III.
v. 10.  O Tagliocozzo.]  He alludes to tile victory which Charles
gained over Conradino, by the sage advice of the Sieur de Valeri,
in 1208.  G. Villani, l. vii. c. 27.
v. 32.  Ali.]  The disciple of Mohammed.
v. 53.  Dolcino.]  "In 1305, a friar, called Dolcino, who
belonged to no regular order, contrived to raise in Novarra, in
Lombardy, a large company of the meaner sort of people, declaring
himself to be a true apostle of Christ, and promulgating a
community of property and of wives, with many other such
heretical doctrines.  He blamed the pope, cardinals, and other
prelates of the holy church, for not observing their duty, nor
leading the angelic life, and affirmed that he ought to be pope.
He was followed by more than three thousand men and women, who
lived promiscuously on the mountains together, like beasts, and,
when they wanted provisions, supplied themselves by depredation
and rapine.  This lasted for two years till, many being struck
with compunction at the dissolute life they led, his sect was
much diminished; and through failure of food, and the severity of
the snows, he was taken by the people of Novarra, and burnt, with
Margarita his companion and many other men and women whom his
errors had seduced."  G. Villanni, l. viii. c. 84.
Landino observes, that he was possessed of singular eloquence,
and that both he and Margarita endored their fate with a firmness
worthy of a better cause.  For a further account of him, see
Muratori Rer. Ital. Script. t. ix. p. 427.
v. 69.  Medicina.]  A place in the territory of Bologna.  Piero
fomented dissensions among the inhabitants of that city, and
among the leaders of the neighbouring states.
v. 70.  The pleasant land.]  Lombardy.
v. 72.  The twain.]  Guido dal Cassero and Angiolello da Cagnano,
two of the worthiest and most distinguished citizens of Fano,
were invited by Malatestino da Rimini to an entertainment on
pretence that he had some important business to transact with
them:  and, according to instructions given by him, they mere
drowned in their passage near Catolica, between Rimini and Fano.
v. 85.  Focara's wind.] Focara is a mountain, from which a wind
blows that is peculiarly dangerous to the navigators of that
v. 94.  The doubt in Caesar's mind.]  Curio, whose speech
(according to Lucan) determined Julius Caesar to proceed when he
had arrived at Rimini (the ancient Ariminum), and doubted whether
he should prosecute the civil war.
        Tolle moras:  semper nocuit differre paratis
               Pharsal, l. i. 281.
v. 102.  Mosca.]  Buondelmonte was engaged to marry a lady of the
Amidei family, but broke his promise and united himself to one of
the Donati.  This was so much resented by the former, that a
meeting of themselves and their kinsmen was held, to consider of
the best means of revenging the insult.  Mosca degli Uberti
persuaded them to resolve on the assassination of Buondelmonte,
exclaiming to them  "the thing once done, there is an end."  The
counsel and its effects were the source of many terrible
calamities to the state of Florence.  "This murder," says G.
Villani, l. v. c. 38,  "was the cause and beginning of the
accursed Guelph and Ghibelline parties in Florence."  It happened
in 1215.  See the Paradise, Canto XVI. 139.
v. 111.  The boon companion.]
        What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
Shakespeare, 2 Hen. VI. a. iii. s. 2.
v. 160.  Bertrand.]  Bertrand de Born, Vicomte de Hautefort, near
Perigueux in Guienne, who incited John to rebel against his
father, Henry II. of England.  Bertrand holds a distinguished
place among the Provencal poets.  He is quoted in Dante, "De
Vulg. Eloq." l. ii. c. 2.  For the translation of some extracts
from his poems, see Millot, Hist. Litteraire des Troubadors t. i.
p. 210; but the historical parts of that work are, I believe, not
to be relied on.
v. 26.  Geri of Bello.]  A kinsman of the Poet's, who was
murdered by one of the Sacchetti family.  His being placed here,
may be considered as a proof that Dante was more impartial in the
allotment of his punishments than has generally been supposed.
v. 44.  As were the torment.]  It is very probable that these
lines gave Milton the idea of his celebrated description:
               Immediately a place
        Before their eyes appear'd, sad, noisome, dark,
        A lasar-house it seem'd, wherein were laid
        Numbers of all diseas'd, all maladies, &c.
               P. L. b. xi. 477.
v. 45.  Valdichiana.]  The valley through which passes the river
Chiana, bounded by Arezzo, Cortona, Montepulciano, and Chiusi. In
the heat of autumn it was formerly rendered unwholesome by the
stagnation of the water, but has since been drained by the
Emperor Leopold II.  The Chiana is mentioned as a remarkably
sluggish stream, in the Paradise, Canto XIII. 21.
v. 47.  Maremma's pestilent fen.]  See Note to Canto XXV. v. 18.
v. 58.  In Aegina.] He alludes to the fable of the ants changed
into Myrmidons. Ovid, Met. 1. vii.
v. 104.  Arezzo was my dwelling.]  Grifolino of Arezzo, who
promised Albero, son of the Bishop of Sienna, that he would teach
him the art of flying; and because be did not keep his promise,
Albero prevailed on his father to have him burnt for a
necromancer.
               Was ever race
        Light as Sienna's?]
The same imputation is again cast on the Siennese, Purg. Canto
v. 121.  Stricca.] This is said ironically.  Stricca, Niccolo
Salimbeni, Caccia of Asciano, and Abbagliato, or Meo de
Folcacchieri, belonged to a company of prodigal and luxurious
young men in Sienna, called the "brigata godereccia."  Niccolo
was the inventor of a new manner of using cloves in cookery, not
very well understood by the commentators, and which was termed
the  "costuma ricca."
v. 125.  In that garden.]  Sienna.
v. 134.  Cappocchio's ghost.] Capocchio of Sienna, who is said to
have been a fellow-student of Dante's in natural philosophy.
v. 4.  Athamas.]  From Ovid, Metam. 1. iv.
        Protinos Aelides, &c.
v. 16.  Hecuba. See Euripedes, Hecuba; and Ovid, Metnm. l. xiii.
v. 33.  Schicchi.]  Gianni Schicci, who was of the family of
Cavalcanti, possessed such a faculty of moulding his features to
the resemblance of others, that he was employed by Simon Donati
to personate Buoso Donati, then recently deceased, and to make a
will, leaving Simon his heir; for which service he was
renumerated with a mare of extraordinary value, here called "the
lady of the herd."
v. 39.  Myrrha.] See Ovid, Metam. l. x.
v. 60. Adamo's woe.]  Adamo of Breschia, at the instigation of
Cuido Alessandro, and their brother Aghinulfo, lords of Romena,
coonterfeited the coin of Florence; for which crime he was burnt.
Landino says, that in his time the peasants still pointed out a
pile of stones near Romena as the place of his execution.
v. 64.  Casentino.] Romena is a part of Casentino.
v. 77.  Branda's limpid spring.]  A fountain in Sienna.
v. 88.  The florens with three carats of alloy.]  The floren was
a coin that ought to have had tmenty-four carats of pure gold.
Villani relates, that it was first used at Florence in 1253, an
aera of great prosperity in the annals of the republic; before
which time their most valuable coinage was of silver.  Hist. l.
v. 98.  The false accuser.]  Potiphar's wife.
v. 1.  The very tongue.]
        Vulnus in Herculeo quae quondam fecerat hoste
        Vulneris auxilium Pellas hasta fuit.
               Ovid, Rem. Amor. 47.
The same allusion was made by Bernard de Ventadour, a Provencal
poet in the middle of the twelfth century: and Millot observes,
that it was a singular instance of erudition in a Troubadour.
But it is not impossible, as Warton remarks, (Hist. of Engl.
Poetry, vol. ii. sec. x. p 215.) but that he might have been
indebted for it to some of the early romances.
In Chaucer's Squier's Tale, a sword of similar quality is
        And other folk have wondred on the sweard,
        That could so piercen through every thing;
        And fell in speech of Telephus the king,
        And of Achillcs for his queint spere,
        For he couth with it both heale and dere.
So Shakspeare, Henry VI. p. ii. a. 5. s. 1.
        Whose smile and frown like to Achilles' spear
        Is able with the change to kill and cure.
v. 14. Orlando.l
        When Charlemain with all his peerage fell
               At Fontarabia
               Milton, P. L. b. i. 586.
See Warton's Hist. of Eng. Poetrg, v. i. sect. iii. p. 132.
"This is the horn which Orlando won from the giant Jatmund, and
which as Turpin and the Islandic bards report, was endued with
magical power, and might be heard at the distance of twenty
miles."  Charlemain and Orlando are introduced in the Paradise,
Canto XVIII.
v. 36.  Montereggnon.] A castle near Sienna.
v. 105.  The fortunate vale.] The country near Carthage.  See
Liv. Hist. l. xxx. and Lucan, Phars. l. iv. 590. Dante has kept
the latter of these writers in his eye throughout all this
v. 123.  Alcides.]  The combat between Hercules Antaeus is
adduced by the Poet in his treatise "De Monarchia," l. ii. as a
proof of the judgment of God displayed in the duel, according to
the singular superstition of those times.
v. 128.  The tower of Carisenda.]  The leaning tower at Bologna
CANTO XXXII.
v. 8.          A tongue not us'd
        To infant babbling.]
        Ne da lingua, che chiami mamma, o babbo.
Dante in his treatise " De Vulg. Eloq." speaking of words not
admissble in the loftier, or as he calls it, tragic style of
poetry, says- "In quorum numero nec puerilia propter suam
simplicitatem ut Mamma et Babbo," l. ii. c. vii.
v. 29.  Tabernich or Pietrapana.] The one a mountain in
Sclavonia, the other in that tract of country called the
Garfagnana, not far from Lucca.
v. 33.  To where modest shame appears.]  "As high as to the
v. 35.  Moving their teeth in shrill note like the stork.]
        Mettendo i denti in nota di cicogna.
So Boccaccio, G. viii. n. 7. "Lo scolar cattivello quasi cicogna
divenuto si forte batteva i denti."
v. 53.  Who are these two.]  Alessandro and Napoleone, sons of
Alberto Alberti, who murdered each other.  They were proprietors
of the valley of Falterona, where the Bisenzio has its source, a
river that falls into the Arno about six miles from Florence.
v. 59.  Not him,]  Mordrec, son of King Arthur.
v. 60. Foccaccia.]  Focaccia of Cancellieri, (the Pistoian
family) whose atrocious act of revenge against his uncle is said
to have given rise to the parties of the Bianchi and Neri, in the
year 1300. See G. Villani, Hist. l, viii. c. 37. and
Macchiavelli, Hist. l. ii. The account of the latter writer
differs much from that given by Landino in his Commentary.
v. 63.  Mascheroni.]  Sassol Mascheroni, a Florentiue, who also
murdered his uncle.
v. 66.  Camiccione.]  Camiccione de' Pazzi of Valdarno, by whom
his kinsman Ubertino was treacherously pnt to death.
v. 67.  Carlino.]  One of the same family.  He betrayed the
Castel di Piano Travigne, in Valdarno, to the Florentines, after
the refugees of the Bianca and Ghibelline party had defended it
against a siege for twenty-nine days, in the summer of 1302.  See
G. Villani, l. viii. c. 52 and Dino Compagni, l. ii.
v. 81. Montaperto.] The defeat of the Guelfi at Montaperto,
occasioned by the treachery of Bocca degli Abbati, who, during
the engagement, cut off the hand of Giacopo del Vacca de'Pazzi,
bearer of the Florentine standard.  G. Villani, l. vi. c. 80, and
Notes to Canto X.  This event happened in 1260.
v. 113.  Him of Duera.]  Buoso of Cremona, of the family of
Duera, who was bribed by Guy de Montfort, to leave a pass between
Piedmont and Parma, with the defence of which he had been
entrusted by the Ghibellines, open to the army of Charles of
Anjou, A.D. 1265, at which the people of Cremona were so enraged,
that they extirpated the whole family.  G. Villani, l. vii. c. 4.
v. 118.  Beccaria.]  Abbot of Vallombrosa, who was the Pope's
Legate at Florence, where his intrigues in favour of the
Ghibellines being discovered, he was beheaded. I do not find the
occurrence in Vallini, nor do the commentators say to what pope
he was legate. By Landino he is reported to have been from Parma,
by Vellutello from Pavia.
v. 118.  Soldanieri.]  "Gianni Soldanieri,"  says Villani, Hist.
l. vii. c14, "put himself at the head of the people, in the hopes
of rising into power, not aware that the result would be mischief
to the Ghibelline party, and his own ruin; an event which seems
ever to have befallen him, who has headed the populace in
Florence." A.D. 1266.
v. 119.  Ganellon.]  The betrayer of Charlemain, mentioned by
Archbishop Turpin.  He is a common instance of treachery with the
poets of the middle ages.
        Trop son fol e mal pensant,
        Pis valent que Guenelon.
               Thibaut, roi de Navarre
        O new Scariot, and new Ganilion,
        O false dissembler, &c.
               Chaucer, Nonne's Prieste's Tale
And in the Monke's Tale, Peter of Spaine.
v. 119.  Tribaldello.]  Tribaldello de'Manfredi, who was bribed
to betray the city of Faonza, A. D. 1282. G. Villani, l. vii. c.
v. 128.  Tydeus.] See Statius, Theb. l. viii. ad finem.
CANTO XXXIII.
v. 14.  Count Ugolino.]  "In the year 1288, in the month of July,
Pisa was much divided by competitors for the sovereignty; one
party, composed of certain of the Guelphi, being headed by the
Judge Nino di Gallura de'Visconti; another, consisting of others
of the same faction, by the Count Ugolino de' Gherardeschi; and
the third by the Archbishop Ruggieri degli Ubaldini, with the
Lanfranchi, Sismondi, Gualandi, and other Ghibelline houses.  The
Count Ugolino,to effect his purpose, united with the Archbishop
and his party, and having betrayed Nino, his sister's son, they
contrived that he and his followers should either be driven out
of Pisa, or their persons seized.  Nino hearing this, and not
seeing any means of defending himself, retired to Calci, his
castle, and formed an alliance with the Florentines and people of
Lucca, against the Pisans.  The Count, before Nino was gone, in
order to cover his treachery, when everything was settled for his
expulsion, quitted Pisa, and repaired to a manor of his called
Settimo; whence, as soon as he was informed of Nino's departure,
he returned to Pisa with great rejoicing and festivity, and was
elevated to the supreme power with every demonstration of triumph
and honour.  But his greatness was not of long continuauce.  It
pleased the Almighty that a total reverse of fortune should
ensue, as a punishment for his acts of treachery and guilt:  for
he was said to have poisoned the Count Anselmo da Capraia, his
sister's son, on account of the envy and fear excited in his mind
by the high esteem in which the gracious manners of Anselmo were
held by the Pisans.  The power of the Guelphi being so much
diminished, the Archbishop devised means to betray the Count
Uglino and caused him to be suddenly attacked in his palace by
the fury of the people, whom he had exasperated, by telling them
that Ugolino had betrayed Pisa, and given up their castles to the
citizens of Florence and of Lucca. He was immediately compelled
to surrender; his bastard son and his grandson fell in the
assault; and two of his sons, with their two sons also, were
conveyed to prison."  G. Villani l. vii. c. 120.
"In the following march, the Pisans, who had imprisoned the Count
Uglino, with two of his sons and two of his grandchildren, the
offspring of his son the Count Guelfo, in a tower on the Piazza
of the Anzania, caused the tower to be locked, the key thrown
into the Arno, and all food to be withheld from them.  In a few
days they died of hunger; but the Count first with loud cries
declared his penitence, and yet neither priest nor friar was
allowed to shrive him.  All the five, when dead, were dragged out
of the prison, and meanly interred; and from thence forward the
tower was called the tower of famine, and so shall ever be."
Ibid. c. 127.
Chancer has briefly told Ugolino's story. See Monke's Tale,
Hugeline of Pise.
v. 29.  Unto the mountain.]  The mountain S. Giuliano, between
Pisa and Lucca.
v. 59. Thou gav'st.]
               Tu ne vestisti
        Queste misere carni, e tu le spoglia.
Imitated by Filicaja, Canz. iii.
        Di questa imperial caduca spoglia
        Tu, Signor, me vestisti e tu mi spoglia:
        Ben puoi'l Regno me tor tu che me'l desti.
And by Maffei, in the Merope:
               Tu disciogleste
        Queste misere membra e tu le annodi.
v. 79. In that fair region.]
        Del bel paese la, dove'l si suona.
Italy as explained by Dante himself, in his treatise De Vulg.
Eloq. l. i. c. 8. "Qui autem Si dicunt a praedictis finibus.
(Januensiem) Oreintalem (Meridionalis Europae partem) tenent;
videlicet usque ad promontorium illud Italiae, qua sinus
Adriatici maris incipit et Siciliam."
v. 82.  Capraia and Gorgona.]  Small islands near the mouth of
v. 94.  There very weeping suffers not to weep,]
        Lo pianto stesso li pianger non lascia.
So Giusto de'Conti, Bella Mano. Son. "Quanto il ciel."
        Che il troppo pianto a me pianger non lassa.
v. 116.  The friar Albigero.]  Alberigo de'Manfredi, of Faenza,
one of the Frati Godenti, Joyons Friars who having quarrelled
with some of his brotherhood, under pretence of wishing to be
reconciled, invited them to a banquet, at the conclusion of which
he called for the fruit, a signal for the assassins to rush in
and dispatch those whom he had marked for destruction.  Hence,
adds Landino, it is said proverbially of one who has been
stabbed, that he has had some of the friar Alberigo's fruit.
Thus Pulci, Morg. Magg. c. xxv.
        Le frutte amare di frate Alberico.
v. 123.  Ptolomea.]  This circle is named Ptolomea from Ptolemy,
the son of Abubus, by whom Simon and his sons were murdered, at a
great banquet he had made for them. See Maccabees, ch xvi.
v. 126.  The glazed tear-drops.]
        -sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears.
               Shakspeare, Rich. II. a. 2. s. 2.
v. 136.  Branca Doria.]  The family of Doria was possessed of
great influence in Genoa.  Branca is said to have murdered his
father-in-law, Michel Zanche, introduced in Canto XXII.
v. 162  Romagna's darkest spirit.]  The friar Alberigo.
Canto XXXIV.
v. 6.  A wind-mill.]  The author of the Caliph Vathek, in the
notes to that tale, justly observes, that it is more than
probable that Don Quixote's mistake of the wind-mills for giants
was suggested to Cervantes by this simile.
v. 37. Three faces.]  It can scarcely be doubted but that Milton
derived his description of Satan in those lines,
               Each passion dimm'd his face
        Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envy, and despair.
               P. L. b. iv. 114.
from this passage, coupled with the remark of Vellutello upon it:
"The first of these sins is anger which he signifies by the red
face; the second, represented by that between pale and yellow is
envy and not, as others have said, avarice; and the third,
denoted by the black, is a melancholy humour that causes a man's
thoughts to be dark and evil, and averse from all joy and
tranquillity."
v. 44. Sails.]
               --His sail-broad vans
        He spreads for flight.
               Milton, P. L. b. ii. 927.
Compare Spenser, F. Q. b. i. c. xi. st. 10;  Ben Jonson's Every
Man out of his humour, v. 7; and Fletcher's Prophetess, a. 2. s.
v. 46.  Like a bat.]  The description of an imaginary being, who
is called Typhurgo, in the Zodiacus Vitae, has some touches very
like this of Dante's Lucifer.
        Ingentem vidi regem ingentique sedentem
        In solio, crines flammanti stemmate cinctum
               ---utrinque patentes
        Alae humeris magnae, quales vespertilionum
        Membranis contextae amplis--
        Nudus erat longis sed opertus corpora villis.
               M. Palingenii, Zod. Vit. l. ix.
        A mighty king I might discerne,
               Plac'd hie on lofty chaire,
        His haire with fyry garland deckt
               Puft up in fiendish wise.
        x      x      x       x      x       x
               Large wings on him did grow
        Framde like the wings of flinder mice, &c.
               Googe's Translation
v. 61. Brutus.]  Landino struggles, but I fear in vain, to
extricate Brutus from the unworthy lot which is here assigned
him.  He maintains, that by Brutus and Cassius are not meant the
individuals known by those names, but any who put a lawful
monarch to death.  Yet if Caesar was such, the conspirators might
be regarded as deserving of their doom.
v. 89.  Within one hour and half of noon.]  The poet uses the
Hebrew manner of computing the day, according to which the third
hour answers to our twelve o'clock at noon.
v. 120.  By what of firm land on this side appears.]  The
mountain of Purgatory.
v.123.  The vaulted tomb.]  "La tomba."  This word is used to
express the whole depth of the infernal region.
O'er better waves to speed her rapid course
The light bark of my genius lifts the sail,
Well pleas'd to leave so cruel sea behind;
And of that second region will I sing,
In which the human spirit from sinful blot
Is purg'd, and for ascent to Heaven prepares.
     Here, O ye hallow'd Nine!  for in your train
I follow, here the deadened strain revive;
Nor let Calliope refuse to sound
A somewhat higher song, of that loud tone,
Which when the wretched birds of chattering note
Had heard, they of forgiveness lost all hope.
     Sweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread
O'er the serene aspect of the pure air,
High up as the first circle, to mine eyes
Unwonted joy renew'd, soon as I 'scap'd
Forth from the atmosphere of deadly gloom,
That had mine eyes and bosom fill'd with grief.
The radiant planet, that to love invites,
Made all the orient laugh, and veil'd beneath
The Pisces' light, that in his escort came.
     To the right hand I turn'd, and fix'd my mind
On the' other pole attentive, where I saw
Four stars ne'er seen before save by the ken
Of our first parents.  Heaven of their rays
Seem'd joyous.  O thou northern site, bereft
Indeed, and widow'd, since of these depriv'd!
     As from this view I had desisted, straight
Turning a little tow'rds the other pole,
There from whence now the wain had disappear'd,
I saw an old man standing by my side
Alone, so worthy of rev'rence in his look,
That ne'er from son to father more was ow'd.
Low down his beard and mix'd with hoary white
Descended, like his locks, which parting fell
Upon his breast in double fold.  The beams
Of those four luminaries on his face
So brightly shone, and with such radiance clear
Deck'd it, that I beheld him as the sun.
     "Say who are ye, that stemming the blind stream,
Forth from th' eternal prison-house have fled?"
He spoke and moved those venerable plumes.
"Who hath conducted, or with lantern sure
Lights you emerging from the depth of night,
That makes the infernal valley ever black?
Are the firm statutes of the dread abyss
Broken, or in high heaven new laws ordain'd,
That thus, condemn'd, ye to my caves approach?"
     My guide, then laying hold on me, by words
And intimations given with hand and head,
Made my bent knees and eye submissive pay
Due reverence; then thus to him replied.
     "Not of myself I come; a Dame from heaven
Descending, had besought me in my charge
To bring.  But since thy will implies, that more
Our true condition I unfold at large,
Mine is not to deny thee thy request.
This mortal ne'er hath seen the farthest gloom.
But erring by his folly had approach'd
So near, that little space was left to turn.
Then, as before I told, I was dispatch'd
To work his rescue, and no way remain'd
Save this which I have ta'en.  I have display'd
Before him all the regions of the bad;
And purpose now those spirits to display,
That under thy command are purg'd from sin.
How I have brought him would be long to say.
From high descends the virtue, by whose aid
I to thy sight and hearing him have led.
Now may our coming please thee.  In the search
Of liberty he journeys: that how dear
They know, who for her sake have life refus'd.
Thou knowest, to whom death for her was sweet
In Utica, where thou didst leave those weeds,
That in the last great day will shine so bright.
For us the' eternal edicts are unmov'd:
He breathes, and I am free of Minos' power,
Abiding in that circle where the eyes
Of thy chaste Marcia beam, who still in look
Prays thee, O hallow'd spirit!  to own her shine.
Then by her love we' implore thee, let us pass
Through thy sev'n regions; for which best thanks
I for thy favour will to her return,
If mention there below thou not disdain."
     "Marcia so pleasing in my sight was found,"
He then to him rejoin'd, "while I was there,
That all she ask'd me I was fain to grant.
Now that beyond the' accursed stream she dwells,
She may no longer move me, by that law,
Which was ordain'd me, when I issued thence.
Not so, if Dame from heaven, as thou sayst,
Moves and directs thee; then no flattery needs.
Enough for me that in her name thou ask.
Go therefore now: and with a slender reed
See that thou duly gird him, and his face
Lave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence.
For not with eye, by any cloud obscur'd,
Would it be seemly before him to come,
Who stands the foremost minister in heaven.
This islet all around, there far beneath,
Where the wave beats it, on the oozy bed
Produces store of reeds. No other plant,
Cover'd with leaves, or harden'd in its stalk,
There lives, not bending to the water's sway.
After, this way return not; but the sun
Will show you, that now rises, where to take
The mountain in its easiest ascent."
     He disappear'd; and I myself uprais'd
Speechless, and to my guide retiring close,
Toward him turn'd mine eyes.  He thus began;
"My son!  observant thou my steps pursue.
We must retreat to rearward, for that way
The champain to its low extreme declines."
     The dawn had chas'd the matin hour of prime,
Which deaf before it, so that from afar
I spy'd the trembling of the ocean stream.
     We travers'd the deserted plain, as one
Who, wander'd from his track, thinks every step
Trodden in vain till he regain the path.
     When we had come, where yet the tender dew
Strove with the sun, and in a place, where fresh
The wind breath'd o'er it, while it slowly dried;
Both hands extended on the watery grass
My master plac'd, in graceful act and kind.
Whence I of his intent before appriz'd,
Stretch'd out to him my cheeks suffus'd with tears.
There to my visage he anew restor'd
That hue, which the dun shades of hell conceal'd.
     Then on the solitary shore arriv'd,
That never sailing on its waters saw
Man, that could after measure back his course,
He girt me in such manner as had pleas'd
Him who instructed, and O, strange to tell!
As he selected every humble plant,
Wherever one was pluck'd, another there
Resembling, straightway in its place arose.
Now had the sun to that horizon reach'd,
That covers, with the most exalted point
Of its meridian circle, Salem's walls,
And night, that opposite to him her orb
Sounds, from the stream of Ganges issued forth,
Holding the scales, that from her hands are dropp'd
When she reigns highest: so that where I was,
Aurora's white and vermeil-tinctur'd cheek
To orange turn'd as she in age increas'd.
     Meanwhile we linger'd by the water's brink,
Like men, who, musing on their road, in thought
Journey, while motionless the body rests.
When lo!  as near upon the hour of dawn,
Through the thick vapours Mars with fiery beam
Glares down in west, over the ocean floor;
So seem'd, what once again I hope to view,
A light so swiftly coming through the sea,
No winged course might equal its career.
From which when for a space I had withdrawn
Thine eyes, to make inquiry of my guide,
Again I look'd and saw it grown in size
And brightness: thou on either side appear'd
Something, but what I knew not of bright hue,
And by degrees from underneath it came
Another.  My preceptor silent yet
Stood, while the brightness, that we first discern'd,
Open'd the form of wings: then when he knew
The pilot, cried aloud, "Down, down; bend low
Thy knees; behold God's angel: fold thy hands:
Now shalt thou see true Ministers indeed.
Lo how all human means he sets at naught!
So that nor oar he needs, nor other sail
Except his wings, between such distant shores.
Lo how straight up to heaven he holds them rear'd,
Winnowing the air with those eternal plumes,
That not like mortal hairs fall off or change!"
     As more and more toward us came, more bright
Appear'd the bird of God, nor could the eye
Endure his splendor near:  I mine bent down.
He drove ashore in a small bark so swift
And light, that in its course no wave it drank.
The heav'nly steersman at the prow was seen,
Visibly written blessed in his looks.
Within a hundred spirits and more there sat.
"In Exitu Israel de Aegypto;"
All with one voice together sang, with what
In the remainder of that hymn is writ.
Then soon as with the sign of holy cross
He bless'd them, they at once leap'd out on land,
The swiftly as he came return'd. The crew,
There left, appear'd astounded with the place,
Gazing around as one who sees new sights.
     From every side the sun darted his beams,
And with his arrowy radiance from mid heav'n
Had chas'd the Capricorn, when that strange tribe
Lifting their eyes towards us: If ye know,
Declare what path will Lead us to the mount."
     Them Virgil answer'd.  "Ye suppose perchance
Us well acquainted with this place: but here,
We, as yourselves, are strangers.  Not long erst
We came, before you but a little space,
By other road so rough and hard, that now
The' ascent will seem to us as play."  The spirits,
Who from my breathing had perceiv'd I liv'd,
Grew pale with wonder.  As the multitude
Flock round a herald, sent with olive branch,
To hear what news he brings, and in their haste
Tread one another down, e'en so at sight
Of me those happy spirits were fix'd, each one
Forgetful of its errand, to depart,
Where cleans'd from sin, it might be made all fair.
     Then one I saw darting before the rest
With such fond ardour to embrace me, I
To do the like was mov'd.  O shadows vain
Except in outward semblance!  thrice my hands
I clasp'd behind it, they as oft return'd
Empty into my breast again.  Surprise
I needs must think was painted in my looks,
For that the shadow smil'd and backward drew.
To follow it I hasten'd, but with voice
Of sweetness it enjoin'd me to desist.
Then who it was I knew, and pray'd of it,
To talk with me, it would a little pause.
It answered: "Thee as in my mortal frame
I lov'd, so loos'd forth it I love thee still,
And therefore pause; but why walkest thou here?"
     "Not without purpose once more to return,
Thou find'st me, my Casella, where I am
Journeying this way;" I said, "but how of thee
Hath so much time been lost?"  He answer'd straight:
"No outrage hath been done to me, if he
Who when and whom he chooses takes, me oft
This passage hath denied, since of just will
His will he makes.  These three months past indeed,
He, whose chose to enter, with free leave
Hath taken; whence I wand'ring by the shore
Where Tyber's wave grows salt, of him gain'd kind
Admittance, at that river's mouth, tow'rd which
His wings are pointed, for there always throng
All such as not to Archeron descend."
     Then I: "If new laws have not quite destroy'd
Memory and use of that sweet song of love,
That while all my cares had power to 'swage;
Please thee with it a little to console
My spirit, that incumber'd with its frame,
Travelling so far, of pain is overcome."
     "Love that discourses in my thoughts."  He then
Began in such soft accents, that within
The sweetness thrills me yet.  My gentle guide
And all who came with him, so well were pleas'd,
That seem'd naught else might in their thoughts have room.
     Fast fix'd in mute attention to his notes
We stood, when lo!  that old man venerable
Exclaiming, "How is this, ye tardy spirits?
What negligence detains you loit'ring here?
Run to the mountain to cast off those scales,
That from your eyes the sight of God conceal."
     As a wild flock of pigeons, to their food
Collected, blade or tares, without their pride
Accustom'd, and in still and quiet sort,
If aught alarm them, suddenly desert
Their meal, assail'd by more important care;
So I that new-come troop beheld, the song
Deserting, hasten to the mountain's side,
As one who goes yet where he tends knows not.
     Nor with less hurried step did we depart.
Them sudden flight had scatter'd over the plain,
Turn'd tow'rds the mountain, whither reason's voice
Drives us; I to my faithful company
Adhering, left it not.  For how of him
Depriv'd, might I have sped, or who beside
Would o'er the mountainous tract have led my steps
He with the bitter pang of self-remorse
Seem'd smitten.  O clear conscience and upright
How doth a little fling wound thee sore!
     Soon as his feet desisted (slack'ning pace),
From haste, that mars all decency of act,
My mind, that in itself before was wrapt,
Its thoughts expanded, as with joy restor'd:
And full against the steep ascent I set
My face, where highest to heav'n its top o'erflows.
     The sun, that flar'd behind, with ruddy beam
Before my form was broken; for in me
His rays resistance met.  I turn'd aside
With fear of being left, when I beheld
Only before myself the ground obscur'd.
When thus my solace, turning him around,
Bespake me kindly:  "Why distrustest thou?
Believ'st not I am with thee, thy sure guide?
It now is evening there, where buried lies
The body, in which I cast a shade, remov'd
To Naples from Brundusium's wall.  Nor thou
Marvel, if before me no shadow fall,
More than that in the sky element
One ray obstructs not other.  To endure
Torments of heat and cold extreme, like frames
That virtue hath dispos'd, which how it works
Wills not to us should be reveal'd.  Insane
Who hopes, our reason may that space explore,
Which holds three persons in one substance knit.
Seek not the wherefore, race of human kind;
Could ye have seen the whole, no need had been
For Mary to bring forth.  Moreover ye
Have seen such men desiring fruitlessly;
To whose desires repose would have been giv'n,
That now but serve them for eternal grief.
I speak of Plato, and the Stagyrite,
And others many more."  And then he bent
Downwards his forehead, and in troubled mood
Broke off his speech.  Meanwhile we had arriv'd
Far as the mountain's foot, and there the rock
Found of so steep ascent, that nimblest steps
To climb it had been vain.  The most remote
Most wild untrodden path, in all the tract
'Twixt Lerice and Turbia were to this
A ladder easy' and open of access.
     "Who knows on which hand now the steep declines?"
My master said and paus'd, "so that he may
Ascend, who journeys without aid of wine,?"
And while with looks directed to the ground
The meaning of the pathway he explor'd,
And I gaz'd upward round the stony height,
Of spirits, that toward us mov'd their steps,
Yet moving seem'd not, they so slow approach'd.
     I thus my guide address'd:  "Upraise thine eyes,
Lo that way some, of whom thou may'st obtain
Counsel, if of thyself thou find'st it not!"
     Straightway he look'd, and with free speech replied:
"Let us tend thither: they but softly come.
And thou be firm in hope, my son belov'd."
     Now was that people distant far in space
A thousand paces behind ours, as much
As at a throw the nervous arm could fling,
When all drew backward on the messy crags
Of the steep bank, and firmly stood unmov'd
As one who walks in doubt might stand to look.
     "O spirits perfect!  O already chosen!"
Virgil to them began, "by that blest peace,
Which, as I deem, is for you all prepar'd,
Instruct us where the mountain low declines,
So that attempt to mount it be not vain.
For who knows most, him loss of time most grieves."
     As sheep, that step from forth their fold, by one,
Or pairs, or three at once; meanwhile the rest
Stand fearfully, bending the eye and nose
To ground, and what the foremost does, that do
The others, gath'ring round her, if she stops,
Simple and quiet, nor the cause discern;
So saw I moving to advance the first,
Who of that fortunate crew were at the head,
Of modest mien and graceful in their gait.
When they before me had beheld the light
From my right side fall broken on the ground,
So that the shadow reach'd the cave, they stopp'd
And somewhat back retir'd: the same did all,
Who follow'd, though unweeting of the cause
     "Unask'd of you, yet freely I confess,
This is a human body which ye see.
That the sun's light is broken on the ground,
Marvel not: but believe, that not without
Virtue deriv'd from Heaven, we to climb
Over this wall aspire."  So them bespake
My master; and that virtuous tribe rejoin'd;
" Turn, and before you there the entrance lies,"
Making a signal to us with bent hands.
     Then of them one began.  "Whoe'er thou art,
Who journey'st thus this way, thy visage turn,
Think if me elsewhere thou hast ever seen."
     I tow'rds him turn'd, and with fix'd eye beheld.
Comely, and fair, and gentle of aspect,
He seem'd, but on one brow a gash was mark'd.
     When humbly I disclaim'd to have beheld
Him ever:  "Now behold!"  he said, and show'd
High on his breast a wound: then smiling spake.
     "I am Manfredi, grandson to the Queen
Costanza: whence I pray thee, when return'd,
To my fair daughter go, the parent glad
Of Aragonia and Sicilia's pride;
And of the truth inform her, if of me
Aught else be told.  When by two mortal blows
My frame was shatter'd, I betook myself
Weeping to him, who of free will forgives.
My sins were horrible; but so wide arms
Hath goodness infinite, that it receives
All who turn to it.  Had this text divine
Been of Cosenza's shepherd better scann'd,
Who then by Clement on my hunt was set,
Yet at the bridge's head my bones had lain,
Near Benevento, by the heavy mole
Protected; but the rain now drenches them,
And the wind drives, out of the kingdom's bounds,
Far as the stream of Verde, where, with lights
Extinguish'd, he remov'd them from their bed.
Yet by their curse we are not so destroy'd,
But that the eternal love may turn, while hope
Retains her verdant blossoms.  True it is,
That such one as in contumacy dies
Against the holy church, though he repent,
Must wander thirty-fold for all the time
In his presumption past; if such decree
Be not by prayers of good men shorter made
Look therefore if thou canst advance my bliss;
Revealing to my good Costanza, how
Thou hast beheld me, and beside the terms
Laid on me of that interdict; for here
By means of those below much profit comes."
When by sensations of delight or pain,
That any of our faculties hath seiz'd,
Entire the soul collects herself, it seems
She is intent upon that power alone,
And thus the error is disprov'd which holds
The soul not singly lighted in the breast.
And therefore when as aught is heard or seen,
That firmly keeps the soul toward it turn'd,
Time passes, and a man perceives it not.
For that, whereby he hearken, is one power,
Another that, which the whole spirit hash;
This is as it were bound, while that is free.
     This found I true by proof, hearing that spirit
And wond'ring; for full fifty steps aloft
The sun had measur'd unobserv'd of me,
When we arriv'd where all with one accord
The spirits shouted, "Here is what ye ask."
     A larger aperture ofttimes is stopp'd
With forked stake of thorn by villager,
When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path,
By which my guide, and I behind him close,
Ascended solitary, when that troop
Departing left us.  On Sanleo's road
Who journeys, or to Noli low descends,
Or mounts Bismantua's height, must use his feet;
But here a man had need to fly, I mean
With the swift wing and plumes of high desire,
Conducted by his aid, who gave me hope,
And with light furnish'd to direct my way.
     We through the broken rock ascended, close
Pent on each side, while underneath the ground
Ask'd help of hands and feet.  When we arriv'd
Near on the highest ridge of the steep bank,
Where the plain level open'd I exclaim'd,
"O master!  say which way can we proceed?"
     He answer'd, "Let no step of thine recede.
Behind me gain the mountain, till to us
Some practis'd guide appear."  That eminence
Was lofty that no eye might reach its point,
And the side proudly rising, more than line
From the mid quadrant to the centre drawn.
I wearied thus began:  "Parent belov'd!
Turn, and behold how I remain alone,
If thou stay not." --" My son!"  He straight reply'd,
"Thus far put forth thy strength; "and to a track
Pointed, that, on this side projecting, round
Circles the hill.  His words so spurr'd me on,
That I behind him clamb'ring, forc'd myself,
Till my feet press'd the circuit plain beneath.
There both together seated, turn'd we round
To eastward, whence was our ascent: and oft
Many beside have with delight look'd back.
     First on the nether shores I turn'd my eyes,
Then rais'd them to the sun, and wond'ring mark'd
That from the left it smote us.  Soon perceiv'd
That Poet sage how at the car of light
Amaz'd I stood, where 'twixt us and the north
Its course it enter'd.  Whence he thus to me:
"Were Leda's offspring now in company
Of that broad mirror, that high up and low
Imparts his light beneath, thou might'st behold
The ruddy zodiac nearer to the bears
Wheel, if its ancient course it not forsook.
How that may be if thou would'st think; within
Pond'ring, imagine Sion with this mount
Plac'd on the earth, so that to both be one
Horizon, and two hemispheres apart,
Where lies the path that Phaeton ill knew
To guide his erring chariot: thou wilt see
How of necessity by this on one
He passes, while by that on the' other side,
If with clear view shine intellect attend."
     "Of truth, kind teacher!"  I exclaim'd, "so clear
Aught saw I never, as I now discern
Where seem'd my ken to fail, that the mid orb
Of the supernal motion (which in terms
Of art is called the Equator, and remains
Ever between the sun and winter) for the cause
Thou hast assign'd, from hence toward the north
Departs, when those who in the Hebrew land
Inhabit, see it tow'rds the warmer part.
But if it please thee, I would gladly know,
How far we have to journey: for the hill
Mounts higher, than this sight of mine can mount."
     He thus to me:  "Such is this steep ascent,
That it is ever difficult at first,
But, more a man proceeds, less evil grows.
When pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much
That upward going shall be easy to thee.
As in a vessel to go down the tide,
Then of this path thou wilt have reach'd the end.
There hope to rest thee from thy toil.  No more
I answer, and thus far for certain know."
As he his words had spoken, near to us
A voice there sounded:  "Yet ye first perchance
May to repose you by constraint be led."
At sound thereof each turn'd, and on the left
A huge stone we beheld, of which nor I
Nor he before was ware.  Thither we drew,
find there were some, who in the shady place
Behind the rock were standing, as a man
Thru' idleness might stand.  Among them one,
Who seem'd to me much wearied, sat him down,
And with his arms did fold his knees about,
Holding his face between them downward bent.
     "Sweet Sir!"  I cry'd, "behold that man, who shows
Himself more idle, than if laziness
Were sister to him."  Straight he turn'd to us,
And, o'er the thigh lifting his face, observ'd,
Then in these accents spake:  "Up then, proceed
Thou valiant one."  Straight who it was I knew;
Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breath
Still somewhat urg'd me) hinder my approach.
And when I came to him, he scarce his head
Uplifted, saying "Well hast thou discern'd,
How from the left the sun his chariot leads."
     His lazy acts and broken words my lips
To laughter somewhat mov'd; when I began:
"Belacqua, now for thee I grieve no more.
But tell, why thou art seated upright there?
Waitest thou escort to conduct thee hence?
Or blame I only shine accustom'd ways?"
Then he:  "My brother, of what use to mount,
When to my suffering would not let me pass
The bird of God, who at the portal sits?
Behooves so long that heav'n first bear me round
Without its limits, as in life it bore,
Because I to the end repentant Sighs
Delay'd, if prayer do not aid me first,
That riseth up from heart which lives in grace.
What other kind avails, not heard in heaven?"'
     Before me now the Poet up the mount
Ascending, cried:  "Haste thee, for see the sun
Has touch'd the point meridian, and the night
Now covers with her foot Marocco's shore."
Now had I left those spirits, and pursued
The steps of my Conductor, when beheld
Pointing the finger at me one exclaim'd:
"See how it seems as if the light not shone
From the left hand of him beneath, and he,
As living, seems to be led on."  Mine eyes
I at that sound reverting, saw them gaze
Through wonder first at me, and then at me
And the light broken underneath, by turns.
"Why are thy thoughts thus riveted?"  my guide
Exclaim'd, "that thou hast slack'd thy pace?  or how
Imports it thee, what thing is whisper'd here?
Come after me, and to their babblings leave
The crowd. Be as a tower, that, firmly set,
Shakes not its top for any blast that blows!
He, in whose bosom thought on thought shoots out,
Still of his aim is wide, in that the one
Sicklies and wastes to nought the other's strength."
     What other could I answer save "I come?"
I said it, somewhat with that colour ting'd
Which ofttimes pardon meriteth for man.
     Meanwhile traverse along the hill there came,
A little way before us, some who sang
The "Miserere" in responsive Strains.
When they perceiv'd that through my body I
Gave way not for the rays to pass, their song
Straight to a long and hoarse exclaim they chang'd;
And two of them, in guise of messengers,
Ran on to meet us, and inquiring ask'd:
Of your condition we would gladly learn."
     To them my guide.  "Ye may return, and bear
Tidings to them who sent you, that his frame
Is real flesh.  If, as I deem, to view
His shade they paus'd, enough is answer'd them.
Him let them honour, they may prize him well."
     Ne'er saw I fiery vapours with such speed
Cut through the serene air at fall of night,
Nor August's clouds athwart the setting sun,
That upward these did not in shorter space
Return; and, there arriving, with the rest
Wheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop.
     "Many," exclaim'd the bard, "are these, who throng
Around us: to petition thee they come.
Go therefore on, and listen as thou go'st."
     "O spirit!  who go'st on to blessedness
With the same limbs, that clad thee at thy birth."
Shouting they came, "a little rest thy step.
Look if thou any one amongst our tribe
Hast e'er beheld, that tidings of him there
Thou mayst report.  Ah, wherefore go'st thou on?
Ah wherefore tarriest thou not?  We all
By violence died, and to our latest hour
Were sinners, but then warn'd by light from heav'n,
So that, repenting and forgiving, we
Did issue out of life at peace with God,
Who with desire to see him fills our heart."
     Then I:  "The visages of all I scan
Yet none of ye remember.  But if aught,
That I can do, may please you, gentle spirits!
Speak; and I will perform it, by that peace,
Which on the steps of guide so excellent
Following from world to world intent I seek."
     In answer he began:  "None here distrusts
Thy kindness, though not promis'd with an oath;
So as the will fail not for want of power.
Whence I, who sole before the others speak,
Entreat thee, if thou ever see that land,
Which lies between Romagna and the realm
Of Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray
Those who inhabit Fano, that for me
Their adorations duly be put up,
By which I may purge off my grievous sins.
From thence I came.  But the deep passages,
Whence issued out the blood wherein I dwelt,
Upon my bosom in Antenor's land
Were made, where to be more secure I thought.
The author of the deed was Este's prince,
Who, more than right could warrant, with his wrath
Pursued me.  Had I towards Mira fled,
When overta'en at Oriaco, still
Might I have breath'd. But to the marsh I sped,
And in the mire and rushes tangled there
Fell, and beheld my life-blood float the plain."
     Then said another:  "Ah! so may the wish,
That takes thee o'er the mountain, be fulfill'd,
As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine.
Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I:
Giovanna nor none else have care for me,
Sorrowing with these I therefore go."  I thus:
"From Campaldino's field what force or chance
Drew thee, that ne'er thy sepulture was known?"
     "Oh!"  answer'd he, "at Casentino's foot
A stream there courseth, nam'd Archiano, sprung
In Apennine above the Hermit's seat.
E'en where its name is cancel'd, there came I,
Pierc'd in the heart, fleeing away on foot,
And bloodying the plain.  Here sight and speech
Fail'd me, and finishing with Mary's name
I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain'd.
I will report the truth; which thou again0
Tell to the living.  Me God's angel took,
Whilst he of hell exclaim'd:  "O thou from heav'n!
Say wherefore hast thou robb'd me?  Thou of him
Th' eternal portion bear'st with thee away
For one poor tear that he deprives me of.
But of the other, other rule I make."
     "Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects
That vapour dank, returning into water,
Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.
That evil will, which in his intellect
Still follows evil, came, and rais'd the wind
And smoky mist, by virtue of the power
Given by his nature.  Thence the valley, soon
As day was spent, he cover'd o'er with cloud
From Pratomagno to the mountain range,
And stretch'd the sky above, so that the air
Impregnate chang'd to water.  Fell the rain,
And to the fosses came all that the land
Contain'd not; and, as mightiest streams are wont,
To the great river with such headlong sweep
Rush'd, that nought stay'd its course.  My stiffen'd frame
Laid at his mouth the fell Archiano found,
And dash'd it into Arno, from my breast
Loos'ning the cross, that of myself I made
When overcome with pain.  He hurl'd me on,
Along the banks and bottom of his course;
Then in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt."
     "Ah!  when thou to the world shalt be return'd,
And rested after thy long road," so spake
Next the third spirit; "then remember me.
I once was Pia.  Sienna gave me life,
Maremma took it from me.  That he knows,
Who me with jewell'd ring had first espous'd."
When from their game of dice men separate,
He, who hath lost, remains in sadness fix'd,
Revolving in his mind, what luckless throws
He cast: but meanwhile all the company
Go with the other; one before him runs,
And one behind his mantle twitches, one
Fast by his side bids him remember him.
He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand
Is stretch'd, well knows he bids him stand aside;
And thus he from the press defends himself.
E'en such was I in that close-crowding throng;
And turning so my face around to all,
And promising, I 'scap'd from it with pains.
     Here of Arezzo him I saw, who fell
By Ghino's cruel arm; and him beside,
Who in his chase was swallow'd by the stream.
Here Frederic Novello, with his hand
Stretch'd forth, entreated; and of Pisa he,
Who put the good Marzuco to such proof
Of constancy.  Count Orso I beheld;
And from its frame a soul dismiss'd for spite
And envy, as it said, but for no crime:
I speak of Peter de la Brosse; and here,
While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant
Let her beware; lest for so false a deed
She herd with worse than these. When I was freed
From all those spirits, who pray'd for others' prayers
To hasten on their state of blessedness;
Straight I began:  "O thou, my luminary!
It seems expressly in thy text denied,
That heaven's supreme decree can never bend
To supplication; yet with this design
Do these entreat.  Can then their hope be vain,
Or is thy saying not to me reveal'd?"
     He thus to me:  "Both what I write is plain,
And these deceiv'd not in their hope, if well
Thy mind consider, that the sacred height
Of judgment doth not stoop, because love's flame
In a short moment all fulfils, which he
Who sojourns here, in right should satisfy.
Besides, when I this point concluded thus,
By praying no defect could be supplied;
Because the pray'r had none access to God.
Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not
Contented unless she assure thee so,
Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light.
I know not if thou take me right; I mean
Beatrice.  Her thou shalt behold above,
Upon this mountain's crown, fair seat of joy."
     Then I:  "Sir!  let us mend our speed; for now
I tire not as before; and lo!  the hill
Stretches its shadow far."  He answer'd thus:
"Our progress with this day shall be as much
As we may now dispatch; but otherwise
Than thou supposest is the truth.  For there
Thou canst not be, ere thou once more behold
Him back returning, who behind the steep
Is now so hidden, that as erst his beam
Thou dost not break.  But lo!  a spirit there
Stands solitary, and toward us looks:
It will instruct us in the speediest way."
     We soon approach'd it.  O thou Lombard spirit!
How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood,
Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes!
It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass,
Eyeing us as a lion on his watch.
I3ut Virgil with entreaty mild advanc'd,
Requesting it to show the best ascent.
It answer to his question none return'd,
But of our country and our kind of life
Demanded.  When my courteous guide began,
"Mantua," the solitary shadow quick
Rose towards us from the place in which it stood,
And cry'd, "Mantuan!  I am thy countryman
Sordello."  Each the other then embrac'd.
     Ah slavish Italy!  thou inn of grief,
Vessel without a pilot in loud storm,
Lady no longer of fair provinces,
But brothel-house impure!  this gentle spirit,
Ev'n from the Pleasant sound of his dear land
Was prompt to greet a fellow citizen
With such glad cheer; while now thy living ones
In thee abide not without war; and one
Malicious gnaws another, ay of those
Whom the same wall and the same moat contains,
Seek, wretched one!  around thy sea-coasts wide;
Then homeward to thy bosom turn, and mark
If any part of the sweet peace enjoy.
What boots it, that thy reins Justinian's hand
Befitted, if thy saddle be unpress'd?
Nought doth he now but aggravate thy shame.
Ah people!  thou obedient still shouldst live,
And in the saddle let thy Caesar sit,
If well thou marked'st that which God commands
     Look how that beast to felness hath relaps'd
From having lost correction of the spur,
Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand,
O German Albert!  who abandon'st her,
That is grown savage and unmanageable,
When thou should'st clasp her flanks with forked heels.
Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood!
And be it strange and manifest to all!
Such as may strike thy successor with dread!
For that thy sire and thou have suffer'd thus,
Through greediness of yonder realms detain'd,
The garden of the empire to run waste.
Come see the Capulets and Montagues,
The Philippeschi and Monaldi!  man
Who car'st for nought!  those sunk in grief, and these
With dire suspicion rack'd. Come, cruel one!
Come and behold the' oppression of the nobles,
And mark their injuries:  and thou mayst see.
What safety Santafiore can supply.
Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee,
Desolate widow!  day and night with moans:
"My Caesar, why dost thou desert my side?"
Come and behold what love among thy people:
And if no pity touches thee for us,
Come and blush for thine own report.  For me,
If it be lawful, O Almighty Power,
Who wast in earth for our sakes crucified!
Are thy just eyes turn'd elsewhere?  or is this
A preparation in the wond'rous depth
Of thy sage counsel made, for some good end,
Entirely from our reach of thought cut off?
So are the' Italian cities all o'erthrong'd
With tyrants, and a great Marcellus made
Of every petty factious villager.
     My Florence!  thou mayst well remain unmov'd
At this digression, which affects not thee:
Thanks to thy people, who so wisely speed.
Many have justice in their heart, that long
Waiteth for counsel to direct the bow,
Or ere it dart unto its aim: but shine
Have it on their lip's edge.  Many refuse
To bear the common burdens: readier thine
Answer uneall'd, and cry, "Behold I stoop!"
     Make thyself glad, for thou hast reason now,
Thou wealthy!  thou at peace!  thou wisdom-fraught!
Facts best witness if I speak the truth.
Athens and Lacedaemon, who of old
Enacted laws, for civil arts renown'd,
Made little progress in improving life
Tow'rds thee, who usest such nice subtlety,
That to the middle of November scarce
Reaches the thread thou in October weav'st.
How many times, within thy memory,
Customs, and laws, and coins, and offices
Have been by thee renew'd, and people chang'd!
     If thou remember'st well and can'st see clear,
Thou wilt perceive thyself like a sick wretch,
Who finds no rest upon her down, hut oft
Shifting her side, short respite seeks from pain.
After their courteous greetings joyfully
Sev'n times exchang'd, Sordello backward drew
Exclaiming, "Who are ye?"  "Before this mount
By spirits worthy of ascent to God
Was sought, my bones had by Octavius' care
Been buried.  I am Virgil, for no sin
Depriv'd of heav'n, except for lack of faith."
     So answer'd him in few my gentle guide.
     As one, who aught before him suddenly
Beholding, whence his wonder riseth, cries
"It is yet is not," wav'ring in belief;
Such he appear'd; then downward bent his eyes,
And drawing near with reverential step,
Caught him, where of mean estate might clasp
His lord.  "Glory of Latium!" he exclaim'd,
"In whom our tongue its utmost power display'd!
Boast of my honor'd birth-place!  what desert
Of mine, what favour rather undeserv'd,
Shows thee to me?  If I to hear that voice
Am worthy, say if from below thou com'st
And from what cloister's pale?"--"Through every orb
Of that sad region," he reply'd, "thus far
Am I arriv'd, by heav'nly influence led
And with such aid I come.  There is a place
There underneath, not made by torments sad,
But by dun shades alone; where mourning's voice
Sounds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs.
There I with little innocents abide,
Who by death's fangs were bitten, ere exempt
From human taint.  There I with those abide,
Who the three holy virtues put not on,
But understood the rest, and without blame
Follow'd them all.  But if thou know'st and canst,
Direct us, how we soonest may arrive,
Where Purgatory its true beginning takes."
     He answer'd thus:  "We have no certain place
Assign'd us: upwards I may go or round,
Far as I can, I join thee for thy guide.
But thou beholdest now how day declines:
And upwards to proceed by night, our power
Excels: therefore it may be well to choose
A place of pleasant sojourn.  To the right
Some spirits sit apart retir'd.  If thou
Consentest, I to these will lead thy steps:
And thou wilt know them, not without delight."
     "How chances this?"  was answer'd;  "who so wish'd
To ascend by night, would he be thence debarr'd
By other, or through his own weakness fail?"
     The good Sordello then, along the ground
Trailing his finger, spoke: "Only this line
Thou shalt not overpass, soon as the sun
Hath disappear'd; not that aught else impedes
Thy going upwards, save the shades of night.
These with the wont of power perplex the will.
With them thou haply mightst return beneath,
Or to and fro around the mountain's side
Wander, while day is in the horizon shut."
     My master straight, as wond'ring at his speech,
Exclaim'd:  "Then lead us quickly, where thou sayst,
That, while we stay, we may enjoy delight."
     A little space we were remov'd from thence,
When I perceiv'd the mountain hollow'd out.
Ev'n as large valleys hollow'd out on earth,
     "That way," the' escorting spirit cried, "we go,
Where in a bosom the high bank recedes:
And thou await renewal of the day."
     Betwixt the steep and plain a crooked path
Led us traverse into the ridge's side,
Where more than half the sloping edge expires.
Refulgent gold, and silver thrice refin'd,
And scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian wood
Of lucid dye serene, fresh emeralds
But newly broken, by the herbs and flowers
Plac'd in that fair recess, in color all
Had been surpass'd, as great surpasses less.
Nor nature only there lavish'd her hues,
But of the sweetness of a thousand smells
A rare and undistinguish'd fragrance made.
     "Salve Regina," on the grass and flowers
Here chanting I beheld those spirits sit
Who not beyond the valley could be seen.
     "Before the west'ring sun sink to his bed,"
Began the Mantuan, who our steps had turn'd,
     "'Mid those desires not that I lead ye on.
For from this eminence ye shall discern
Better the acts and visages of all,
Than in the nether vale among them mix'd.
He, who sits high above the rest, and seems
To have neglected that he should have done,
And to the others' song moves not his lip,
The Emperor Rodolph call, who might have heal'd
The wounds whereof fair Italy hath died,
So that by others she revives but slowly,
He, who with kindly visage comforts him,
Sway'd in that country, where the water springs,
That Moldaw's river to the Elbe, and Elbe
Rolls to the ocean: Ottocar his name:
Who in his swaddling clothes was of more worth
Than Winceslaus his son, a bearded man,
Pamper'd with rank luxuriousness and ease.
And that one with the nose depress, who close
In counsel seems with him of gentle look,
Flying expir'd, with'ring the lily's flower.
Look there how he doth knock against his breast!
The other ye behold, who for his cheek
Makes of one hand a couch, with frequent sighs.
They are the father and the father-in-law
Of Gallia's bane: his vicious life they know
And foul; thence comes the grief that rends them thus.
     "He, so robust of limb, who measure keeps
In song, with him of feature prominent,
With ev'ry virtue bore his girdle brac'd.
And if that stripling who behinds him sits,
King after him had liv'd, his virtue then
From vessel to like vessel had been pour'd;
Which may not of the other heirs be said.
By James and Frederick his realms are held;
Neither the better heritage obtains.
Rarely into the branches of the tree
Doth human worth mount up; and so ordains
He who bestows it, that as his free gift
It may be call'd.  To Charles my words apply
No less than to his brother in the song;
Which Pouille and Provence now with grief confess.
So much that plant degenerates from its seed,
As more than Beatrice and Margaret
Costanza still boasts of her valorous spouse.
     "Behold the king of simple life and plain,
Harry of England, sitting there alone:
He through his branches better issue spreads.
     "That one, who on the ground beneath the rest
Sits lowest, yet his gaze directs aloft,
Us William, that brave Marquis, for whose cause
The deed of Alexandria and his war
Makes Conferrat and Canavese weep."
Now was the hour that wakens fond desire
In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart,
Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell,
And pilgrim newly on his road with love
Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far,
That seems to mourn for the expiring day:
When I, no longer taking heed to hear
Began, with wonder, from those spirits to mark
One risen from its seat, which with its hand
Audience implor'd. Both palms it join'd and rais'd,
Fixing its steadfast gaze towards the east,
As telling God, "I care for naught beside."
     "Te Lucis Ante," so devoutly then
Came from its lip, and in so soft a strain,
That all my sense in ravishment was lost.
And the rest after, softly and devout,
Follow'd through all the hymn, with upward gaze
Directed to the bright supernal wheels.
     Here, reader!  for the truth makes thine eyes keen:
For of so subtle texture is this veil,
That thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark'd.
     I saw that gentle band silently next
Look up, as if in expectation held,
Pale and in lowly guise; and from on high
I saw forth issuing descend beneath
Two angels with two flame-illumin'd swords,
Broken and mutilated at their points.
Green as the tender leaves but newly born,
Their vesture was, the which by wings as green
Beaten, they drew behind them, fann'd in air.
A little over us one took his stand,
The other lighted on the' Opposing hill,
So that the troop were in the midst contain'd.
     Well I descried the whiteness on their heads;
But in their visages the dazzled eye
Was lost, as faculty that by too much
Is overpower'd.  "From Mary's bosom both
Are come," exclaim'd Sordello, "as a guard
Over the vale, ganst him, who hither tends,
The serpent."  Whence, not knowing by which path
He came, I turn'd me round, and closely press'd,
All frozen, to my leader's trusted side.
     Sordello paus'd not:  "To the valley now
(For it is time) let us descend; and hold
Converse with those great shadows: haply much
Their sight may please ye."  Only three steps down
Methinks I measur'd, ere I was beneath,
And noted one who look'd as with desire
To know me.  Time was now that air arrow dim;
Yet not so dim, that 'twixt his eyes and mine
It clear'd not up what was conceal'd before.
Mutually tow'rds each other we advanc'd.
Nino, thou courteous judge!  what joy I felt,
When I perceiv'd thou wert not with the bad!
     No salutation kind on either part
Was left unsaid.  He then inquir'd:  "How long
Since thou arrived'st at the mountain's foot,
Over the distant waves?" --"O!" answer'd I,
"Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came,
And still in my first life, thus journeying on,
The other strive to gain."  Soon as they heard
My words, he and Sordello backward drew,
As suddenly amaz'd.  To Virgil one,
The other to a spirit turn'd, who near
Was seated, crying:  "Conrad!  up with speed:
Come, see what of his grace high God hath will'd."
Then turning round to me:  "By that rare mark
Of honour which thou ow'st to him, who hides
So deeply his first cause, it hath no ford,
When thou shalt he beyond the vast of waves.
Tell my Giovanna, that for me she call
There, where reply to innocence is made.
Her mother, I believe, loves me no more;
Since she has chang'd the white and wimpled folds,
Which she is doom'd once more with grief to wish.
By her it easily may be perceiv'd,
How long in women lasts the flame of love,
If sight and touch do not relume it oft.
For her so fair a burial will not make
The viper which calls Milan to the field,
As had been made by shrill Gallura's bird."
     He spoke, and in his visage took the stamp
Of that right seal, which with due temperature
Glows in the bosom.  My insatiate eyes
Meanwhile to heav'n had travel'd, even there
Where the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel
Nearest the axle; when my guide inquir'd:
"What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?"
     I answer'd:  "The three torches, with which here
The pole is all on fire. "He then to me:
"The four resplendent stars, thou saw'st this morn
Are there beneath, and these ris'n in their stead."
     While yet he spoke.  Sordello to himself
Drew him, and cry'd:  "Lo there our enemy!"
And with his hand pointed that way to look.
     Along the side, where barrier none arose
Around the little vale, a serpent lay,
Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food.
Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake
Came on, reverting oft his lifted head;
And, as a beast that smoothes its polish'd coat,
Licking his hack.  I saw not, nor can tell,
How those celestial falcons from their seat
Mov'd, but in motion each one well descried,
Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes.
The serpent fled; and to their stations back
The angels up return'd with equal flight.
     The Spirit (who to Nino, when he call'd,
Had come), from viewing me with fixed ken,
Through all that conflict, loosen'd not his sight.
     "So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high,
Find, in thy destin'd lot, of wax so much,
As may suffice thee to the enamel's height."
It thus began:  "If any certain news
Of Valdimagra and the neighbour part
Thou know'st, tell me, who once was mighty there
They call'd me Conrad Malaspina, not
That old one, but from him I sprang.  The love
I bore my people is now here refin'd."
     "In your dominions," I answer'd, "ne'er was I.
But through all Europe where do those men dwell,
To whom their glory is not manifest?
The fame, that honours your illustrious house,
Proclaims the nobles and proclaims the land;
So that he knows it who was never there.
I swear to you, so may my upward route
Prosper!  your honour'd nation not impairs
The value of her coffer and her sword.
Nature and use give her such privilege,
That while the world is twisted from his course
By a bad head, she only walks aright,
And has the evil way in scorn."  He then:
"Now pass thee on: sev'n times the tired sun
Revisits not the couch, which with four feet
The forked Aries covers, ere that kind
Opinion shall be nail'd into thy brain
With stronger nails than other's speech can drive,
If the sure course of judgment be not stay'd."
Now the fair consort of Tithonus old,
Arisen from her mate's beloved arms,
Look'd palely o'er the eastern cliff: her brow,
Lucent with jewels, glitter'd, set in sign
Of that chill animal, who with his train
Smites fearful nations: and where then we were,
Two steps of her ascent the night had past,
And now the third was closing up its wing,
When I, who had so much of Adam with me,
Sank down upon the grass, o'ercome with sleep,
There where all five were seated.  In that hour,
When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,
Rememb'ring haply ancient grief, renews,
And with our minds more wand'rers from the flesh,
And less by thought restrain'd are, as 't were, full
Of holy divination in their dreams,
Then in a vision did I seem to view
A golden-feather'd eagle in the sky,
With open wings, and hov'ring for descent,
And I was in that place, methought, from whence
Young Ganymede, from his associates 'reft,
Was snatch'd aloft to the high consistory.
"Perhaps," thought I within me, "here alone
He strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdains
To pounce upon the prey."  Therewith, it seem'd,
A little wheeling in his airy tour
Terrible as the lightning rush'd he down,
And snatch'd me upward even to the fire.
There both, I thought, the eagle and myself
Did burn; and so intense th' imagin'd flames,
That needs my sleep was broken off.  As erst
Achilles shook himself, and round him roll'd
His waken'd eyeballs wond'ring where he was,
Whenas his mother had from Chiron fled
To Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;
E'en thus I shook me, soon as from my face
The slumber parted, turning deadly pale,
Like one ice-struck with dread.  Solo at my side
My comfort stood: and the bright sun was now
More than two hours aloft: and to the sea
My looks were turn'd.  "Fear not," my master cried,
"Assur'd we are at happy point.  Thy strength
Shrink not, but rise dilated.  Thou art come
To Purgatory now.  Lo! there the cliff
That circling bounds it!  Lo!  the entrance there,
Where it doth seem disparted!  Ere the dawn
Usher'd the daylight, when thy wearied soul
Slept in thee, o'er the flowery vale beneath
A lady came, and thus bespake me: "I
Am Lucia.  Suffer me to take this man,
Who slumbers.  Easier so his way shall speed."
Sordello and the other gentle shapes
Tarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,
This summit reach'd: and I pursued her steps.
Here did she place thee.  First her lovely eyes
That open entrance show'd me; then at once
She vanish'd with thy sleep."  Like one, whose doubts
Are chas'd by certainty, and terror turn'd
To comfort on discovery of the truth,
Such was the change in me: and as my guide
Beheld me fearless, up along the cliff
He mov'd, and I behind him, towards the height.
     Reader!  thou markest how my theme doth rise,
Nor wonder therefore, if more artfully
I prop the structure!  Nearer now we drew,
Arriv'd' whence in that part, where first a breach
As of a wall appear'd, I could descry
A portal, and three steps beneath, that led
For inlet there, of different colour each,
And one who watch'd, but spake not yet a word.
As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,
I mark'd him seated on the highest step,
In visage such, as past my power to bear.
Grasp'd in his hand a naked sword, glanc'd back
The rays so toward me, that I oft in vain
My sight directed.  "Speak from whence ye stand:"
He cried:  "What would ye?  Where is your escort?
Take heed your coming upward harm ye not."
     "A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things,"
Replied the' instructor, "told us, even now,
'Pass that way: here the gate is." --"And may she
Befriending prosper your ascent," resum'd
The courteous keeper of the gate:  "Come then
Before our steps."  We straightway thither came.
     The lowest stair was marble white so smooth
And polish'd, that therein my mirror'd form
Distinct I saw.  The next of hue more dark
Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block,
Crack'd lengthwise and across.  The third, that lay
Massy above, seem'd porphyry, that flam'd
Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein.
On this God's angel either foot sustain'd,
Upon the threshold seated, which appear'd
A rock of diamond.  Up the trinal steps
My leader cheerily drew me.  "Ask," said he,
     "With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt."
     Piously at his holy feet devolv'd
I cast me, praying him for pity's sake
That he would open to me: but first fell
Thrice on my bosom prostrate.  Seven times0
The letter, that denotes the inward stain,
He on my forehead with the blunted point
Of his drawn sword inscrib'd.  And "Look," he cried,
"When enter'd, that thou wash these scars away."
     Ashes, or earth ta'en dry out of the ground,
Were of one colour with the robe he wore.
From underneath that vestment forth he drew
Two keys of metal twain: the one was gold,
Its fellow silver.  With the pallid first,
And next the burnish'd, he so ply'd the gate,
As to content me well.  "Whenever one
Faileth of these, that in the keyhole straight
It turn not, to this alley then expect
Access in vain."  Such were the words he spake.
"One is more precious: but the other needs
Skill and sagacity, large share of each,
Ere its good task to disengage the knot
Be worthily perform'd.  From Peter these
I hold, of him instructed, that I err
Rather in opening than in keeping fast;
So but the suppliant at my feet implore."
     Then of that hallow'd gate he thrust the door,
Exclaiming, "Enter, but this warning hear:
He forth again departs who looks behind."
     As in the hinges of that sacred ward
The swivels turn'd, sonorous metal strong,
Harsh was the grating; nor so surlily
Roar'd the Tarpeian, when by force bereft
Of good Metellus, thenceforth from his loss
To leanness doom'd.  Attentively I turn'd,
List'ning the thunder, that first issued forth;
And "We praise thee, O God," methought I heard
In accents blended with sweet melody.
The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound
Of choral voices, that in solemn chant
With organ mingle, and, now high and clear,
Come swelling, now float indistinct away.
When we had passed the threshold of the gate
(Which the soul's ill affection doth disuse,
Making the crooked seem the straighter path),
I heard its closing sound.  Had mine eyes turn'd,
For that offence what plea might have avail'd?
     We mounted up the riven rock, that wound
On either side alternate, as the wave
Flies and advances.  "Here some little art
Behooves us," said my leader, "that our steps
Observe the varying flexure of the path."
     Thus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orb
The moon once more o'erhangs her wat'ry couch,
Ere we that strait have threaded.  But when free
We came and open, where the mount above
One solid mass retires, I spent, with toil,
And both, uncertain of the way, we stood,
Upon a plain more lonesome, than the roads
That traverse desert wilds.  From whence the brink
Borders upon vacuity, to foot
Of the steep bank, that rises still, the space
Had measur'd thrice the stature of a man:
And, distant as mine eye could wing its flight,
To leftward now and now to right dispatch'd,
That cornice equal in extent appear'd.
     Not yet our feet had on that summit mov'd,
When I discover'd that the bank around,
Whose proud uprising all ascent denied,
Was marble white, and so exactly wrought
With quaintest sculpture, that not there alone
Had Polycletus, but e'en nature's self
Been sham'd.  The angel who came down to earth
With tidings of the peace so many years
Wept for in vain, that op'd the heavenly gates
From their long interdict) before us seem'd,
In a sweet act, so sculptur'd to the life,
He look'd no silent image. One had sworn
He had said, "Hail!" for she was imag'd there,
By whom the key did open to God's love,
And in her act as sensibly impress
That word, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord,"
As figure seal'd on wax.  "Fix not thy mind
On one place only," said the guide belov'd,
Who had me near him on that part where lies
The heart of man.  My sight forthwith I turn'd
And mark'd, behind the virgin mother's form,
Upon that side, where he, that mov'd me, stood,
Another story graven on the rock.
     I passed athwart the bard, and drew me near,
That it might stand more aptly for my view.
There in the self-same marble were engrav'd
The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark,
That from unbidden office awes mankind.
Before it came much people; and the whole
Parted in seven quires.  One sense cried, "Nay,"
Another, "Yes, they sing."  Like doubt arose
Betwixt the eye and smell, from the curl'd fume
Of incense breathing up the well-wrought toil.
Preceding the blest vessel, onward came
With light dance leaping, girt in humble guise,
Sweet Israel's harper: in that hap he seem'd
Less and yet more than kingly.  Opposite,
At a great palace, from the lattice forth
Look'd Michol, like a lady full of scorn
And sorrow.  To behold the tablet next,
Which at the hack of Michol whitely shone,
I mov'd me.  There was storied on the rock
The' exalted glory of the Roman prince,
Whose mighty worth mov'd Gregory to earn
His mighty conquest, Trajan th' Emperor.
A widow at his bridle stood, attir'd
In tears and mourning.  Round about them troop'd
Full throng of knights, and overhead in gold
The eagles floated, struggling with the wind.
The wretch appear'd amid all these to say:
"Grant vengeance, sire!  for, woe beshrew this heart
My son is murder'd."  He replying seem'd;
     "Wait now till I return." And she, as one
Made hasty by her grief; "O sire, if thou
Dost not return?"--"Where I am, who then is,
May right thee."--" What to thee is other's good,
If thou neglect thy own?"--"Now comfort thee,"
At length he answers.  "It beseemeth well
My duty be perform'd, ere I move hence:
So justice wills; and pity bids me stay."
     He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produc'd
That visible speaking, new to us and strange
The like not found on earth.  Fondly I gaz'd
Upon those patterns of meek humbleness,
Shapes yet more precious for their artist's sake,
When "Lo," the poet whisper'd, "where this way
(But slack their pace), a multitude advance.
These to the lofty steps shall guide us on."
     Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights
Their lov'd allurement, were not slow to turn.
     Reader!  I would not that amaz'd thou miss
Of thy good purpose, hearing how just God
Decrees our debts be cancel'd.  Ponder not
The form of suff'ring.  Think on what succeeds,
Think that at worst beyond the mighty doom
It cannot pass.  "Instructor," I began,
"What I see hither tending, bears no trace
Of human semblance, nor of aught beside
That my foil'd sight can guess."  He answering thus:
"So courb'd to earth, beneath their heavy teems
Of torment stoop they, that mine eye at first
Struggled as thine.  But look intently thither,
An disentangle with thy lab'ring view,
What underneath those stones approacheth:  now,
E'en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each."
     Christians and proud!  O poor and wretched ones!
That feeble in the mind's eye, lean your trust
Upon unstaid perverseness!  Know ye not
That we are worms, yet made at last to form
The winged insect, imp'd with angel plumes
That to heaven's justice unobstructed soars?
Why buoy ye up aloft your unfleg'd souls?
Abortive then and shapeless ye remain,
Like the untimely embryon of a worm!
     As, to support incumbent floor or roof,
For corbel is a figure sometimes seen,
That crumples up its knees unto its breast,
With the feign'd posture stirring ruth unfeign'd
In the beholder's fancy; so I saw
These fashion'd, when I noted well their guise.
     Each, as his back was laden, came indeed
Or more or less contract; but it appear'd
As he, who show'd most patience in his look,
Wailing exclaim'd:  "I can endure no more."
O thou Almighty Father, who dost make
The heavens thy dwelling, not in bounds confin'd,
But that with love intenser there thou view'st
Thy primal effluence, hallow'd be thy name:
Join each created being to extol
Thy might, for worthy humblest thanks and praise
Is thy blest Spirit.  May thy kingdom's peace
Come unto us; for we, unless it come,
With all our striving thither tend in vain.
As of their will the angels unto thee
Tender meet sacrifice, circling thy throne
With loud hosannas, so of theirs be done
By saintly men on earth.  Grant us this day
Our daily manna, without which he roams
Through this rough desert retrograde, who most
Toils to advance his steps.  As we to each
Pardon the evil done us, pardon thou
Benign, and of our merit take no count.
'Gainst the old adversary prove thou not
Our virtue easily subdu'd; but free
From his incitements and defeat his wiles.
This last petition, dearest Lord!  is made
Not for ourselves, since that were needless now,
But for their sakes who after us remain."
     Thus for themselves and us good speed imploring,
Those spirits went beneath a weight like that
We sometimes feel in dreams, all, sore beset,
But with unequal anguish, wearied all,
Round the first circuit, purging as they go,
The world's gross darkness off:  In our behalf
If there vows still be offer'd, what can here
For them be vow'd and done by such, whose wills
Have root of goodness in them?  Well beseems
That we should help them wash away the stains
They carried hence, that so made pure and light,
They may spring upward to the starry spheres.
     "Ah!  so may mercy-temper'd justice rid
Your burdens speedily, that ye have power
To stretch your wing, which e'en to your desire
Shall lift you, as ye show us on which hand
Toward the ladder leads the shortest way.
And if there be more passages than one,
Instruct us of that easiest to ascend;
For this man who comes with me, and bears yet
The charge of fleshly raiment Adam left him,
Despite his better will but slowly mounts."
From whom the answer came unto these words,
Which my guide spake, appear'd not; but 'twas said
     "Along the bank to rightward come with us,
And ye shall find a pass that mocks not toil
Of living man to climb: and were it not
That I am hinder'd by the rock, wherewith
This arrogant neck is tam'd, whence needs I stoop
My visage to the ground, him, who yet lives,
Whose name thou speak'st not him I fain would view.
To mark if e'er I knew him?  and to crave
His pity for the fardel that I bear.
I was of Latiun,  of a Tuscan horn
A mighty one:  Aldobranlesco's name
My sire's, I know not if ye e'er have heard.
My old blood and forefathers' gallant deeds
Made me so haughty, that I clean forgot
The common mother, and to such excess,
Wax'd in my scorn of all men, that I fell,
Fell therefore; by what fate Sienna's sons,
Each child in Campagnatico, can tell.
I am Omberto; not me only pride
Hath injur'd, but my kindred all involv'd
In mischief with her.  Here my lot ordains
Under this weight to groan, till I appease
God's angry justice, since I did it not
Amongst the living, here amongst the dead."
     List'ning I bent my visage down: and one
(Not he who spake) twisted beneath the weight
That urg'd him, saw me, knew me straight, and call'd,
Holding his eyes With difficulty fix'd
Intent upon me, stooping as I went
Companion of their way.  "O!"  I exclaim'd,
     "Art thou not Oderigi, art not thou
Agobbio's glory, glory of that art
Which they of Paris call the limmer's skill?"
     "Brother!" said he, "with tints that gayer smile,
Bolognian Franco's pencil lines the leaves.
His all the honour now; mine borrow'd light.
In truth I had not been thus courteous to him,
The whilst I liv'd, through eagerness of zeal
For that pre-eminence my heart was bent on.
Here of such pride the forfeiture is paid.
Nor were I even here; if, able still
To sin, I had not turn'd me unto God.
O powers of man!  how vain your glory, nipp'd
E'en in its height of verdure, if an age
Less bright succeed not!  Cimabue thought
To lord it over painting's field; and now
The cry is Giotto's, and his name eclips'd.
Thus hath one Guido from the other snatch'd
The letter'd prize: and he perhaps is born,
Who shall drive either from their nest.  The noise
Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind,
That blows from divers points, and shifts its name
Shifting the point it blows from.  Shalt thou more
Live in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh
Part shrivel'd from thee, than if thou hadst died,
Before the coral and the pap were left,
Or ere some thousand years have passed? and that
Is, to eternity compar'd, a space,
Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye
To the heaven's slowest orb.  He there who treads
So leisurely before me, far and wide
Through Tuscany resounded once; and now
Is in Sienna scarce with whispers nam'd:
There was he sov'reign, when destruction caught
The madd'ning rage of Florence, in that day
Proud as she now is loathsome.  Your renown
Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go,
And his might withers it, by whom it sprang
Crude from the lap of earth."  I thus to him:
"True are thy sayings: to my heart they breathe
The kindly spirit of meekness, and allay
What tumours rankle there.  But who is he
Of whom thou spak'st but now?" --"This," he replied,
"Is Provenzano.  He is here, because
He reach'd, with grasp presumptuous, at the sway
Of all Sienna.  Thus he still hath gone,
Thus goeth never-resting, since he died.
Such is th' acquittance render'd back of him,
Who, beyond measure, dar'd on earth."  I then:
"If soul that to the verge of life delays
Repentance, linger in that lower space,
Nor hither mount, unless good prayers befriend,
How chanc'd admittance was vouchsaf'd to him?"
     "When at his glory's topmost height," said he,
"Respect of dignity all cast aside,
Freely He fix'd him on Sienna's plain,
A suitor to  redeem his suff'ring friend,
Who languish'd in the prison-house of Charles,
Nor for his sake refus'd through every vein
To tremble.  More I will not say; and dark,
I know, my words are, but thy neighbours soon
Shall help thee to a comment on the text.
This is the work, that from these limits freed him."
With equal pace as oxen in the yoke,
I with that laden spirit journey'd on
Long as the mild instructor suffer'd me;
But when he bade me quit him, and proceed
(For "here," said he, "behooves with sail and oars
Each man, as best he may, push on his bark"),
Upright, as one dispos'd for speed, I rais'd
My body, still in thought submissive bow'd.
     I now my leader's track not loth pursued;
And each had shown how light we far'd along
When thus he warn'd me:  "Bend thine eyesight down:
For thou to ease the way shall find it good
To ruminate the bed beneath thy feet."
     As in memorial of the buried, drawn
Upon earth-level tombs, the sculptur'd form
Of what was once, appears (at sight whereof
Tears often stream forth by remembrance wak'd,
Whose sacred stings the piteous only feel),
So saw I there, but with more curious skill
Of portraiture o'erwrought, whate'er of space
From forth the mountain stretches.  On one part
Him I beheld, above all creatures erst
Created noblest, light'ning fall from heaven:
On th' other side with bolt celestial pierc'd
Briareus: cumb'ring earth he lay through dint
Of mortal ice-stroke.  The Thymbraean god
With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,
Arm'd still, and gazing on the giant's limbs
Strewn o'er th' ethereal field.  Nimrod I saw:
At foot of the stupendous work he stood,
As if bewilder'd, looking on the crowd
Leagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar's plain.
     O Niobe!  in what a trance of woe
Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,
Sev'n sons on either side thee slain!  O Saul!
How ghastly didst thou look!  on thine own sword
Expiring in Gilboa, from that hour
Ne'er visited with rain from heav'n or dew!
     O fond Arachne!  thee I also saw
Half spider now in anguish crawling up
Th' unfinish'd web thou weaved'st to thy bane!
     O Rehoboam!  here thy shape doth seem
Louring no more defiance! but fear-smote
With none to chase him in his chariot whirl'd.
     Was shown beside upon the solid floor
How dear Alcmaeon forc'd his mother rate
That ornament in evil hour receiv'd:
How in the temple on Sennacherib fell
His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.
Was shown the scath and cruel mangling made
By Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried:
"Blood thou didst thirst for, take thy fill of blood!"
Was shown how routed in the battle fled
Th' Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e'en
The relics of the carnage.  Troy I mark'd
In ashes and in caverns.  Oh!  how fall'n,
How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there!
     What master of the pencil or the style
Had trac'd the shades and lines, that might have made
The subtlest workman wonder?  Dead the dead,
The living seem'd alive; with clearer view
His eye beheld not who beheld the truth,
Than mine what I did tread on, while I went
Low bending.  Now swell out; and with stiff necks
Pass on, ye sons of Eve!  veil not your looks,
Lest they descry the evil of your path!
     I noted not (so busied was my thought)
How much we now had circled of the mount,
And of his course yet more the sun had spent,
When he, who with still wakeful caution went,
Admonish'd:  "Raise thou up thy head: for know
Time is not now for slow suspense.  Behold
That way an angel hasting towards us!  Lo
Where duly the sixth handmaid doth return
From service on the day.  Wear thou in look
And gesture seemly grace of reverent awe,
That gladly he may forward us aloft.
Consider that this day ne'er dawns again."
     Time's loss he had so often warn'd me 'gainst,
I could not miss the scope at which he aim'd.
     The goodly shape approach'd us, snowy white
In vesture, and with visage casting streams
Of tremulous lustre like the matin star.
His arms he open'd, then his wings; and spake:
"Onward: the steps, behold!  are near; and now
Th' ascent is without difficulty gain'd."
     A scanty few are they, who when they hear
Such tidings, hasten.  O ye race of men
Though born to soar, why suffer ye a wind
So slight to baffle ye?  He led us on
Where the rock parted; here against my front
Did beat his wings, then promis'd I should fare
In safety on my way.  As to ascend
That steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands
(O'er Rubaconte, looking lordly down
On the well-guided city,) up the right
Th' impetuous rise is broken by the steps
Carv'd in that old and simple age, when still
The registry and label rested safe;
Thus is th' acclivity reliev'd, which here
Precipitous from the other circuit falls:
But on each hand the tall cliff presses close.
     As ent'ring there we turn'd, voices, in strain
Ineffable, sang:  "Blessed are the poor
In spirit."  Ah how far unlike to these
The straits of hell; here songs to usher us,
There shrieks of woe!  We climb the holy stairs:
And lighter to myself by far I seem'd
Than on the plain before, whence thus I spake:
"Say, master, of what heavy thing have I
Been lighten'd, that scarce aught the sense of toil
Affects me journeying?"  He in few replied:
"When sin's broad characters, that yet remain
Upon thy temples, though well nigh effac'd,
Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out,
Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will
Be so o'ercome, they not alone shall feel
No sense of labour, but delight much more
Shall wait them urg'd along their upward way."
     Then like to one, upon whose head is plac'd
Somewhat he deems not of but from the becks
Of others as they pass him by; his hand
Lends therefore help to' assure him, searches, finds,
And well performs such office as the eye
Wants power to execute: so stretching forth
The fingers of my right hand, did I find
Six only of the letters, which his sword
Who bare the keys had trac'd upon my brow.
The leader, as he mark'd mine action, smil'd.
We reach'd the summit of the scale, and stood
Upon the second buttress of that mount
Which healeth him who climbs.  A cornice there,
Like to the former, girdles round the hill;
Save that its arch with sweep less ample bends.
     Shadow nor image there is seen; all smooth
The rampart and the path, reflecting nought
But the rock's sullen hue.  "If here we wait
For some to question," said the bard, "I fear
Our choice may haply meet too long delay."
     Then fixedly upon the sun his eyes
He fastn'd, made his right the central point
From whence to move, and turn'd the left aside.
"O pleasant light, my confidence and hope,
Conduct us thou," he cried, "on this new way,
Where now I venture, leading to the bourn
We seek.  The universal world to thee
Owes warmth and lustre.  If no other cause
Forbid, thy beams should ever be our guide."
     Far, as is measur'd for a mile on earth,
In brief space had we journey'd; such prompt will
Impell'd; and towards us flying, now were heard
Spirits invisible, who courteously
Unto love's table bade the welcome guest.
The voice, that first?  flew by, call'd forth aloud,
"They have no wine; " so on behind us past,
Those sounds reiterating, nor yet lost
In the faint distance, when another came
Crying, "I am Orestes," and alike
Wing'd its fleet way.  "Oh father!"  I exclaim'd,
"What tongues are these?"  and as I question'd, lo!
A third exclaiming, "Love ye those have wrong'd you."
     "This circuit," said my teacher, "knots the scourge
For envy, and the cords are therefore drawn
By charity's correcting hand.  The curb
Is of a harsher sound, as thou shalt hear
(If I deem rightly), ere thou reach the pass,
Where pardon sets them free.  But fix thine eyes
Intently through the air, and thou shalt see
A multitude before thee seated, each
Along the shelving grot."  Then more than erst
I op'd my eyes, before me view'd, and saw
Shadows with garments dark as was the rock;
And when we pass'd a little forth, I heard
A crying, "Blessed Mary! pray for us,
Michael and Peter!  all ye saintly host!"
     I do not think there walks on earth this day
Man so remorseless, that he hath not yearn'd
With pity at the sight that next I saw.
Mine eyes a load of sorrow teemed, when now
I stood so near them, that their semblances
Came clearly to my view.  Of sackcloth vile
Their cov'ring seem'd; and on his shoulder one
Did stay another, leaning, and all lean'd
Against the cliff.  E'en thus the blind and poor,
Near the confessionals, to crave an alms,
Stand, each his head upon his fellow's sunk,
So most to stir compassion, not by sound
Of words alone, but that, which moves not less,
The sight of mis'ry.  And as never beam
Of noonday visiteth the eyeless man,
E'en so was heav'n a niggard unto these
Of his fair light; for, through the orbs of all,
A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up,
As for the taming of a haggard hawk.
     It were a wrong, methought, to pass and look
On others, yet myself the while unseen.
To my sage counsel therefore did I turn.
He knew the meaning of the mute appeal,
Nor waited for my questioning, but said:
"Speak; and be brief, be subtle in thy words."
     On that part of the cornice, whence no rim
Engarlands its steep fall, did Virgil come;
On the' other side me were the spirits, their cheeks
Bathing devout with penitential tears,
That through the dread impalement forc'd a way.
     I turn'd me to them, and "O shades!" said I,
     "Assur'd that to your eyes unveil'd shall shine
The lofty light, sole object of your wish,
So may heaven's grace clear whatsoe'er of foam
Floats turbid on the conscience, that thenceforth
The stream of mind roll limpid from its source,
As ye declare (for so shall ye impart
A boon I dearly prize) if any soul
Of Latium dwell among ye; and perchance
That soul may profit, if I learn so much."
     "My brother, we are each one citizens
Of one true city.  Any thou wouldst say,
Who lived a stranger in Italia's land."
     So heard I answering, as appeal'd, a voice
That onward came some space from whence I stood.
     A spirit I noted, in whose look was mark'd
Expectance.  Ask ye how?  The chin was rais'd
As in one reft of sight.  "Spirit," said I,
"Who for thy rise are tutoring (if thou be
That which didst answer to me,) or by place
Or name, disclose thyself, that I may know thee."
     "I was," it answer'd, "of Sienna:  here
I cleanse away with these the evil life,
Soliciting with tears that He, who is,
Vouchsafe him to us.  Though Sapia nam'd
In sapience I excell'd not, gladder far
Of others' hurt, than of the good befell me.
That thou mayst own I now deceive thee not,
Hear, if my folly were not as I speak it.
When now my years slop'd waning down the arch,
It so bechanc'd, my fellow citizens
Near Colle met their enemies in the field,
And I pray'd God to grant what He had will'd.
There were they vanquish'd, and betook themselves
Unto the bitter passages of flight.
I mark'd the hunt, and waxing out of bounds
In gladness, lifted up my shameless brow,
And like the merlin cheated by a gleam,
Cried, "It is over.  Heav'n!  I fear thee not."
Upon my verge of life I wish'd for peace
With God; nor repentance had supplied
What I did lack of duty, were it not
The hermit Piero, touch'd with charity,
In his devout orisons thought on me.
But who art thou that question'st of our state,
Who go'st to my belief, with lids unclos'd,
And breathest in thy talk?" --"Mine eyes," said I,
"May yet be here ta'en from me; but not long;
For they have not offended grievously
With envious glances.  But the woe beneath
Urges my soul with more exceeding dread.
That nether load already weighs me down."
     She thus:  "Who then amongst us here aloft
Hath brought thee, if thou weenest to return?"
     "He," answer'd I, "who standeth mute beside me.
I live: of me ask therefore, chosen spirit,
If thou desire I yonder yet should move
For thee my mortal feet." --"Oh!" she replied,
"This is so strange a thing, it is great sign
That God doth love thee.  Therefore with thy prayer
Sometime assist me: and by that I crave,
Which most thou covetest, that if thy feet
E'er tread on Tuscan soil, thou save my fame
Amongst my kindred.  Them shalt thou behold
With that vain multitude, who set their hope
On Telamone's haven, there to fail
Confounded, more shall when the fancied stream
They sought of Dian call'd:  but they who lead
Their navies, more than ruin'd hopes shall mourn."
"Say who is he around our mountain winds,
Or ever death has prun'd his wing for flight,
That opes his eyes and covers them at will?"
     "I know not who he is, but know thus much
He comes not singly.  Do thou ask of him,
For thou art nearer to him, and take heed
Accost him gently, so that he may speak."
     Thus on the right two Spirits bending each
Toward the other, talk'd of me, then both
Addressing me, their faces backward lean'd,
And thus the one began:  "O soul, who yet
Pent in the body, tendest towards the sky!
For charity, we pray thee' comfort us,
Recounting whence thou com'st, and who thou art:
For thou dost make us at the favour shown thee
Marvel, as at a thing that ne'er hath been."
     "There stretches through the midst of Tuscany,
I straight began: "a brooklet, whose well-head
Springs up in Falterona, with his race
Not satisfied, when he some hundred miles
Hath measur'd.  From his banks bring, I this frame.
To tell you who I am were words misspent:
For yet my name scarce sounds on rumour's lip."
     "If well I do incorp'rate with my thought
The meaning of thy speech," said he, who first
Addrest me, "thou dost speak of Arno's wave."
     To whom the other: "Why hath he conceal'd
The title of that river, as a man
Doth of some horrible thing?"  The spirit, who
Thereof was question'd, did acquit him thus:
"I know not: but 'tis fitting well the name
Should perish of that vale; for from the source
Where teems so plenteously the Alpine steep
Maim'd of Pelorus, (that doth scarcely pass
Beyond that limit,) even to the point
Whereunto ocean is restor'd, what heaven
Drains from th' exhaustless store for all earth's streams,
Throughout the space is virtue worried down,
As 'twere a snake, by all, for mortal foe,
Or through disastrous influence on the place,
Or else distortion of misguided wills,
That custom goads to evil: whence in those,
The dwellers in that miserable vale,
Nature is so transform'd, it seems as they
Had shar'd of Circe's feeding.  'Midst brute swine,
Worthier of acorns than of other food
Created for man's use, he shapeth first
His obscure way; then, sloping onward, finds
Curs, snarlers more in spite than power, from whom
He turns with scorn aside: still journeying down,
By how much more the curst and luckless foss
Swells out to largeness, e'en so much it finds
Dogs turning into wolves.  Descending still
Through yet more hollow eddies, next he meets
A race of foxes, so replete with craft,
They do not fear that skill can master it.
Nor will I cease because my words are heard
By other ears than thine.  It shall be well
For this man, if he keep in memory
What from no erring Spirit I reveal.
Lo!  I behold thy grandson, that becomes
A hunter of those wolves, upon the shore
Of the fierce stream, and cows them all with dread:
Their flesh yet living sets he up to sale,
Then like an aged beast to slaughter dooms.
Many of life he reaves, himself of worth
And goodly estimation.  Smear'd with gore
Mark how he issues from the rueful wood,
Leaving such havoc, that in thousand years
It spreads not to prime lustihood again."
     As one, who tidings hears of woe to come,
Changes his looks perturb'd, from whate'er part
The peril grasp him, so beheld I change
That spirit, who had turn'd to listen, struck
With sadness, soon as he had caught the word.
     His visage and the other's speech did raise
Desire in me to know the names of both,
whereof with meek entreaty I inquir'd.
     The shade, who late addrest me, thus resum'd:
"Thy wish imports that I vouchsafe to do
For thy sake what thou wilt not do for mine.
But since God's will is that so largely shine
His grace in thee, I will be liberal too.
Guido of Duca know then that I am.
Envy so parch'd my blood, that had I seen
A fellow man made joyous, thou hadst mark'd
A livid paleness overspread my cheek.
Such harvest reap I of the seed I sow'd.
O man, why place thy heart where there doth need
Exclusion of participants in good?
This is Rinieri's spirit, this the boast
And honour of the house of Calboli,
Where of his worth no heritage remains.
Nor his the only blood, that hath been stript
('twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore,)
Of all that truth or fancy asks for bliss;
But in those limits such a growth has sprung
Of rank and venom'd roots, as long would mock
Slow culture's toil.  Where is good Lizio?  where
Manardi, Traversalo, and Carpigna?
O bastard slips of old Romagna's line!
When in Bologna the low artisan,
And in Faenza yon Bernardin sprouts,
A gentle cyon from ignoble stem.
Wonder not, Tuscan, if thou see me weep,
When I recall to mind those once lov'd names,
Guido of Prata, and of Azzo him
That dwelt with you; Tignoso and his troop,
With Traversaro's house and Anastagio s,
(Each race disherited) and beside these,
The ladies and the knights, the toils and ease,
That witch'd us into love and courtesy;
Where now such malice reigns in recreant hearts.
O Brettinoro!  wherefore tarriest still,
Since forth of thee thy family hath gone,
And many, hating evil, join'd their steps?
Well doeth he, that bids his lineage cease,
Bagnacavallo; Castracaro ill,
And Conio worse, who care to propagate
A race of Counties from such blood as theirs.
Well shall ye also do, Pagani, then
When from amongst you tries your demon child.
Not so, howe'er, that henceforth there remain
True proof of what ye were.  O Hugolin!
Thou sprung of Fantolini's line!  thy name
Is safe, since none is look'd for after thee
To cloud its lustre, warping from thy stock.
But, Tuscan, go thy ways; for now I take
Far more delight in weeping than in words.
Such pity for your sakes hath wrung my heart."
     We knew those gentle spirits at parting heard
Our steps.  Their silence therefore of our way
Assur'd us.  Soon as we had quitted them,
Advancing onward, lo!  a voice that seem'd
Like vollied light'ning, when it rives the air,
Met us, and shouted, "Whosoever finds
Will slay me," then fled from us, as the bolt
Lanc'd sudden from a downward-rushing cloud.
When it had giv'n short truce unto our hearing,
Behold the other with a crash as loud
As the quick-following thunder: "Mark in me
Aglauros turn'd to rock."  I at the sound
Retreating drew more closely to my guide.
     Now in mute stillness rested all the air:
And thus he spake:  "There was the galling bit.
But your old enemy so baits his hook,
He drags you eager to him.  Hence nor curb
Avails you, nor reclaiming call.  Heav'n calls
And round about you wheeling courts your gaze
With everlasting beauties.  Yet your eye
Turns with fond doting still upon the earth.
Therefore He smites you who discerneth all."
As much as 'twixt the third hour's close and dawn,
Appeareth of heav'n's sphere, that ever whirls
As restless as an infant in his play,
So much appear'd remaining to the sun
Of his slope journey towards the western goal.
     Evening was there, and here the noon of night;
and full upon our forehead smote the beams.
For  round the mountain, circling, so our path
Had led us, that toward the sun-set now
Direct we journey'd: when I felt a weight
Of more exceeding splendour, than before,
Press on my front.  The cause unknown, amaze
Possess'd me, and both hands against my brow
Lifting, I interpos'd them, as a screen,
That of its gorgeous superflux of light
Clipp'd the diminish'd orb. As when the ray,
Striking On water or the surface clear
Of mirror, leaps unto the opposite part,
Ascending at a glance, e'en as it fell,
(And so much differs from the stone, that falls
Through equal space, as practice skill hath shown;
Thus with refracted light before me seemed
The ground there smitten; whence in sudden haste
My sight recoil'd.  "What is this, sire belov'd!
'Gainst which I strive to shield the sight in vain?"
Cried I, "and which towards us moving seems?"
     "Marvel not, if the family of heav'n,"
He answer'd, "yet with dazzling radiance dim
Thy sense it is a messenger who comes,
Inviting man's ascent.  Such sights ere long,
Not grievous, shall impart to thee delight,
As thy perception is by nature wrought
Up to their pitch."  The blessed angel, soon
As we had reach'd him, hail'd us with glad voice:
"Here enter on a ladder far less steep
Than ye have yet encounter'd."  We forthwith
Ascending, heard behind us chanted sweet,
"Blessed the merciful," and "happy thou!
That conquer'st."  Lonely each, my guide and I
Pursued our upward way; and as we went,
Some profit from his words I hop'd to win,
And thus of him inquiring, fram'd my speech:
     "What meant Romagna's spirit, when he spake
Of bliss exclusive with no partner shar'd?"
     He straight replied: "No wonder, since he knows,
What sorrow waits on his own worst defect,
If he chide others, that they less may mourn.
Because ye point your wishes at a mark,
Where, by communion of possessors, part
Is lessen'd, envy bloweth up the sighs of men.
No fear of that might touch ye, if the love
Of higher sphere exalted your desire.
For there, by how much more they call it ours,
So much propriety of each in good
Increases more, and heighten'd charity
Wraps that fair cloister in a brighter flame."
     "Now lack I satisfaction more," said I,
"Than if thou hadst been silent at the first,
And doubt more gathers on my lab'ring thought.
How can it chance, that good distributed,
The many, that possess it, makes more rich,
Than if 't were shar'd by few?"  He answering thus:
"Thy mind, reverting still to things of earth,
Strikes darkness from true light.  The highest good
Unlimited, ineffable, doth so speed
To love, as beam to lucid body darts,
Giving as much of ardour as it finds.
The sempiternal effluence streams abroad
Spreading, wherever charity extends.
So that the more aspirants to that bliss
Are multiplied, more good is there to love,
And more is lov'd; as mirrors, that reflect,
Each unto other, propagated light.
If these my words avail not to allay
Thy thirsting, Beatrice thou shalt see,
Who of this want, and of all else thou hast,
Shall rid thee to the full.  Provide but thou
That from thy temples may be soon eras'd,
E'en as the two already, those five scars,
That when they pain thee worst, then kindliest heal,"
     "Thou," I had said, "content'st me," when I saw
The other round was gain'd, and wond'ring eyes
Did keep me mute.  There suddenly I seem'd
By an ecstatic vision wrapt away;
And in a temple saw, methought, a crowd
Of many persons; and at th' entrance stood
A dame, whose sweet demeanour did express
A mother's love, who said, "Child!  why hast thou
Dealt with us thus?  Behold thy sire and I
Sorrowing have sought thee;" and so held her peace,
And straight the vision fled.  A female next
Appear'd before me, down whose visage cours'd
Those waters, that grief forces out from one
By deep resentment stung, who seem'd to say:
"If thou, Pisistratus, be lord indeed
Over this city, nam'd with such debate
Of adverse gods, and whence each science sparkles,
Avenge thee of those arms, whose bold embrace
Hath clasp'd our daughter; "and to fuel, meseem'd,
Benign and meek, with visage undisturb'd,
Her sovran spake:  "How shall we those requite,
Who wish us evil, if we thus condemn
The man that loves us?"  After that I saw
A multitude, in fury burning, slay
With stones a stripling youth, and shout amain
"Destroy, destroy: "and him I saw, who bow'd
Heavy with death unto the ground, yet made
His eyes, unfolded upward, gates to heav'n,
Praying forgiveness of th' Almighty Sire,
Amidst that cruel conflict, on his foes,
With looks, that With compassion to their aim.
     Soon as my spirit, from her airy flight
Returning, sought again the things, whose truth
Depends not on her shaping, I observ'd
How she had rov'd to no unreal scenes
     Meanwhile the leader, who might see I mov'd,
As one, who struggles to shake off his sleep,
Exclaim'd:  "What ails thee, that thou canst not hold
Thy footing firm, but more than half a league
Hast travel'd with clos'd eyes and tott'ring gait,
Like to a man by wine or sleep o'ercharg'd?"
     "Beloved father!  so thou deign," said I,
"To listen, I will tell thee what appear'd
Before me, when so fail'd my sinking steps."
     He thus: "Not if thy Countenance were mask'd
With hundred vizards, could a thought of thine
How small soe'er, elude me.  What thou saw'st
Was shown, that freely thou mightst ope thy heart
To the waters of peace, that flow diffus'd
From their eternal fountain.  I not ask'd,
What ails thee?  for such cause as he doth, who
Looks only with that eye which sees no more,
When spiritless the body lies; but ask'd,
To give fresh vigour to thy foot.  Such goads
The slow and loit'ring need; that they be found
Not wanting, when their hour of watch returns."
     So on we journey'd through the evening sky
Gazing intent, far onward, as our eyes
With level view could stretch against the bright
Vespertine ray: and lo!  by slow degrees
Gath'ring, a fog made tow'rds us, dark as night.
There was no room for 'scaping; and that mist
Bereft us, both of sight and the pure air.
Hell's dunnest gloom, or night unlustrous, dark,
Of every planes 'reft, and pall'd in clouds,
Did never spread before the sight a veil
In thickness like that fog, nor to the sense
So palpable and gross.  Ent'ring its shade,
Mine eye endured not with unclosed lids;
Which marking, near me drew the faithful guide,
Offering me his shoulder for a stay.
     As the blind man behind his leader walks,
Lest he should err, or stumble unawares
On what might harm him, or perhaps destroy,
I journey'd through that bitter air and foul,
Still list'ning to my escort's warning voice,
"Look that from me thou part not."  Straight I heard
Voices, and each one seem'd to pray for peace,
And for compassion, to the Lamb of God
That taketh sins away.  Their prelude still
Was "Agnus Dei," and through all the choir,
One voice, one measure ran, that perfect seem'd
The concord of their song.  "Are these I hear
Spirits, O master?"  I exclaim'd; and he:
"Thou aim'st aright: these loose the bonds of wrath."
     "Now who art thou, that through our smoke dost cleave?
And speak'st of us, as thou thyself e'en yet
Dividest time by calends?"  So one voice
Bespake me; whence my master said: "Reply;
And ask, if upward hence the passage lead."
     "O being!  who dost make thee pure, to stand
Beautiful once more in thy Maker's sight!
Along with me: and thou shalt hear and wonder."
Thus I, whereto the spirit answering spake:
"Long as 't is lawful for me, shall my steps
Follow on thine; and since the cloudy smoke
Forbids the seeing, hearing in its stead
Shall keep us join'd."  I then forthwith began
"Yet in my mortal swathing, I ascend
To higher regions, and am hither come
Through the fearful agony of hell.
And, if so largely God hath doled his grace,
That, clean beside all modern precedent,
He wills me to behold his kingly state,
From me conceal not who thou wast, ere death
Had loos'd thee; but instruct me: and instruct
If rightly to the pass I tend; thy words
The way directing as a safe escort."
     "I was of Lombardy, and Marco call'd:
Not inexperienc'd of the world, that worth
I still affected, from which all have turn'd
The nerveless bow aside.  Thy course tends right
Unto the summit:" and, replying thus,
He added, "I beseech thee pray for me,
When thou shalt come aloft."  And I to him:
"Accept my faith for pledge I will perform
What thou requirest.  Yet one doubt remains,
That wrings me sorely, if I solve it not,
Singly before it urg'd me, doubled now
By thine opinion, when I couple that
With one elsewhere declar'd, each strength'ning other.
The world indeed is even so forlorn
Of all good as thou speak'st it and so swarms
With every evil.  Yet, beseech thee, point
The cause out to me, that myself may see,
And unto others show it: for in heaven
One places it, and one on earth below."
     Then heaving forth a deep and audible sigh,
"Brother!" he thus began, "the world is blind;
And thou in truth com'st from it.  Ye, who live,
Do so each cause refer to heav'n above,
E'en as its motion of necessity
Drew with it all that moves.  If this were so,
Free choice in you were none; nor justice would
There should be joy for virtue, woe for ill.
Your movements have their primal bent from heaven;
Not all; yet said I all; what then ensues?
Light have ye still to follow evil or good,
And of the will free power, which, if it stand
Firm and unwearied in Heav'n's first assay,
Conquers at last, so it be cherish'd well,
Triumphant over all.  To mightier force,
To better nature subject, ye abide
Free, not constrain'd by that, which forms in you
The reasoning mind uninfluenc'd of the stars.
If then the present race of mankind err,
Seek in yourselves the cause, and find it there.
Herein thou shalt confess me no false spy.
     "Forth from his plastic hand, who charm'd beholds
Her image ere she yet exist, the soul
Comes like a babe, that wantons sportively
Weeping and laughing in its wayward moods,
As artless and as ignorant of aught,
Save that her Maker being one who dwells
With gladness ever, willingly she turns
To whate'er yields her joy.  Of some slight good
The flavour soon she tastes; and, snar'd by that,
With fondness she pursues it, if no guide
Recall, no rein direct her wand'ring course.
Hence it behov'd, the law should be a curb;
A sovereign hence behov'd, whose piercing view
Might mark at least the fortress and main tower
Of the true city.  Laws indeed there are:
But who is he observes them?  None; not he,
Who goes before, the shepherd of the flock,
Who chews the cud but doth not cleave the hoof.
Therefore the multitude, who see their guide
Strike at the very good they covet most,
Feed there and look no further.  Thus the cause
Is not corrupted nature in yourselves,
But ill-conducting, that hath turn'd the world
To evil.  Rome, that turn'd it unto good,
Was wont to boast two suns, whose several beams
Cast light on either way, the world's and God's.
One since hath quench'd the other; and the sword
Is grafted on the crook; and so conjoin'd
Each must perforce decline to worse, unaw'd
By fear of other.  If thou doubt me, mark
The blade: each herb is judg'd of by its seed.
That land, through which Adice and the Po
Their waters roll, was once the residence
Of courtesy and velour, ere the day,
That frown'd on Frederick; now secure may pass
Those limits, whosoe'er hath left, for shame,
To talk with good men, or come near their haunts.
Three aged ones are still found there, in whom
The old time chides the new: these deem it long
Ere God restore them to a better world:
The good Gherardo, of Palazzo he
Conrad, and Guido of Castello, nam'd
In Gallic phrase more fitly the plain Lombard.
On this at last conclude.  The church of Rome,
Mixing two governments that ill assort,
Hath miss'd her footing, fall'n into the mire,
And there herself and burden much defil'd."
     "O Marco!" I replied, shine arguments
Convince me: and the cause I now discern
Why of the heritage no portion came
To Levi's offspring.  But resolve me this
Who that Gherardo is, that as thou sayst
Is left a sample of the perish'd race,
And for rebuke to this untoward age?"
     "Either thy words," said he, "deceive; or else
Are meant to try me; that thou, speaking Tuscan,
Appear'st not to have heard of good Gherado;
The sole addition that, by which I know him;
Unless I borrow'd from his daughter Gaia
Another name to grace him.  God be with you.
I bear you company no more.  Behold
The dawn with white ray glimm'ring through the mist.
I must away--the angel comes--ere he
Appear."  He said, and would not hear me more.
Call to remembrance, reader, if thou e'er
Hast, on a mountain top, been ta'en by cloud,
Through which thou saw'st no better, than the mole
Doth through opacous membrane; then, whene'er
The wat'ry vapours dense began to melt
Into thin air, how faintly the sun's sphere
Seem'd wading through them; so thy nimble thought
May image, how at first I re-beheld
The sun, that bedward now his couch o'erhung.
     Thus with my leader's feet still equaling pace
From forth that cloud I came, when now expir'd
The parting beams from off the nether shores.
     O quick and forgetive power!  that sometimes dost
So rob us of ourselves, we take no mark
Though round about us thousand trumpets clang!
What moves thee, if the senses stir not?  Light
Kindled in heav'n, spontaneous, self-inform'd,
Or likelier gliding down with swift illapse
By will divine.  Portray'd before me came
The traces of her dire impiety,
Whose form was chang'd into the bird, that most
Delights itself in song: and here my mind
Was inwardly so wrapt, it gave no place
To aught that ask'd admittance from without.
     Next shower'd into my fantasy a shape
As of one crucified, whose visage spake
Fell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;
And round him Ahasuerus the great king,
Esther his bride, and Mordecai the just,
Blameless in word and deed.  As of itself
That unsubstantial coinage of the brain
Burst, like a bubble, Which the water fails
That fed it; in my vision straight uprose
A damsel weeping loud, and cried, "O queen!
O mother!  wherefore has intemperate ire
Driv'n thee to loath thy being?  Not to lose
Lavinia, desp'rate thou hast slain thyself.
Now hast thou lost me.  I am she, whose tears
Mourn, ere I fall, a mother's timeless end."
     E'en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly
New radiance strike upon the closed lids,
The broken slumber quivering ere it dies;
Thus from before me sunk that imagery
Vanishing, soon as on my face there struck
The light, outshining far our earthly beam.
As round I turn'd me to survey what place
I had arriv'd at, "Here ye mount," exclaim'd
A voice, that other purpose left me none,
Save will so eager to behold who spake,
I could not choose but gaze.  As 'fore the sun,
That weighs our vision down, and veils his form
In light transcendent, thus my virtue fail'd
Unequal.  "This is Spirit from above,
Who marshals us our upward way, unsought;
And in his own light shrouds him;. As a man
Doth for himself, so now is done for us.
For whoso waits imploring, yet sees need
Of his prompt aidance, sets himself prepar'd
For blunt denial, ere the suit be made.
Refuse we not to lend a ready foot
At such inviting: haste we to ascend,
Before it darken: for we may not then,
Till morn again return."  So spake my guide;
And to one ladder both address'd our steps;
And the first stair approaching, I perceiv'd
Near me as 'twere the waving of a wing,
That fann'd my face and whisper'd: "Blessed they
The peacemakers: they know not evil wrath."
     Now to such height above our heads were rais'd
The last beams, follow'd close by hooded night,
That many a star on all sides through the gloom
Shone out.  "Why partest from me, O my strength?"
So with myself I commun'd; for I felt
My o'ertoil'd sinews slacken.  We had reach'd
The summit, and were fix'd like to a bark
Arriv'd at land.  And waiting a short space,
If aught should meet mine ear in that new round,
Then to my guide I turn'd, and said: "Lov'd sire!
Declare what guilt is on this circle purg'd.
If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause."
     He thus to me:  "The love of good, whate'er
Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils.
Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter'd ill.
But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand,
Give ear unto my words, and thou shalt cull
Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay.
     "Creator, nor created being, ne'er,
My son," he thus began, "was without love,
Or natural, or the free spirit's growth.
Thou hast not that to learn.  The natural still
Is without error; but the other swerves,
If on ill object bent, or through excess
Of vigour, or defect.  While e'er it seeks
The primal blessings, or with measure due
Th' inferior, no delight, that flows from it,
Partakes of ill.  But let it warp to evil,
Or with more ardour than behooves, or less.
Pursue the good, the thing created then
Works 'gainst its Maker.  Hence thou must infer
That love is germin of each virtue in ye,
And of each act no less, that merits pain.
Now since it may not be, but love intend
The welfare mainly of the thing it loves,
All from self-hatred are secure; and since
No being can be thought t' exist apart
And independent of the first, a bar
Of equal force restrains from hating that.
     "Grant the distinction just; and it remains
The' evil must be another's, which is lov'd.
Three ways such love is gender'd in your clay.
There is who hopes (his neighbour's worth deprest,)
Preeminence himself, and coverts hence
For his own greatness that another fall.
There is who so much fears the loss of power,
Fame, favour, glory (should his fellow mount
Above him), and so sickens at the thought,
He loves their opposite: and there is he,
Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame
That he doth thirst for vengeance, and such needs
Must doat on other's evil.  Here beneath
This threefold love is mourn'd.  Of th' other sort
Be now instructed, that which follows good
But with disorder'd and irregular course.
     "All indistinctly apprehend a bliss
On which the soul may rest, the hearts of all
Yearn after it, and to that wished bourn
All therefore strive to tend.  If ye behold
Or seek it with a love remiss and lax,
This cornice after just repenting lays
Its penal torment on ye.  Other good
There is, where man finds not his happiness:
It is not true fruition, not that blest
Essence, of every good the branch and root.
The love too lavishly bestow'd on this,
Along three circles over us, is mourn'd.
Account of that division tripartite
Expect not, fitter for thine own research.
The teacher ended, and his high discourse
Concluding, earnest in my looks inquir'd
If I appear'd content; and I, whom still
Unsated thirst to hear him urg'd, was mute,
Mute outwardly, yet inwardly I said:
"Perchance my too much questioning offends
But he, true father, mark'd the secret wish
By diffidence restrain'd, and speaking, gave
Me boldness thus to speak: "Master, my Sight
Gathers so lively virtue from thy beams,
That all, thy words convey, distinct is seen.
Wherefore I pray thee, father, whom this heart
Holds dearest!  thou wouldst deign by proof t' unfold
That love, from which as from their source thou bring'st
All good deeds and their opposite."  He then:
"To what I now disclose be thy clear ken
Directed, and thou plainly shalt behold
How much those blind have err'd, who make themselves
The guides of men.  The soul, created apt
To love, moves versatile which way soe'er
Aught pleasing prompts her, soon as she is wak'd
By pleasure into act.  Of substance true
Your apprehension forms its counterfeit,
And in you the ideal shape presenting
Attracts the soul's regard.  If she, thus drawn,
incline toward it, love is that inclining,
And a new nature knit by pleasure in ye.
Then as the fire points up, and mounting seeks
His birth-place and his lasting seat, e'en thus
Enters the captive soul into desire,
Which is a spiritual motion, that ne'er rests
Before enjoyment of the thing it loves.
Enough to show thee, how the truth from those
Is hidden, who aver all love a thing
Praise-worthy in itself: although perhaps
Its substance seem still good.  Yet if the wax
Be good, it follows not th' impression must."
"What love is," I return'd, "thy words, O guide!
And my own docile mind, reveal.  Yet thence
New doubts have sprung.  For from without if love
Be offer'd to us, and the spirit knows
No other footing, tend she right or wrong,
Is no desert of hers."  He answering thus:
"What reason here discovers I have power
To show thee: that which lies beyond, expect
From Beatrice, faith not reason's task.
Spirit, substantial form, with matter join'd
Not in confusion mix'd, hath in itself
Specific virtue of that union born,
Which is not felt except it work, nor prov'd
But through effect, as vegetable life
By the green leaf.  From whence his intellect
Deduced its primal notices of things,
Man therefore knows not, or his appetites
Their first affections; such in you, as zeal
In bees to gather honey; at the first,
Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise.
But o'er each lower faculty supreme,
That as she list are summon'd to her bar,
Ye have that virtue in you, whose just voice
Uttereth counsel, and whose word should keep
The threshold of assent.  Here is the source,
Whence cause of merit in you is deriv'd,
E'en as the affections good or ill she takes,
Or severs, winnow'd as the chaff.  Those men
Who reas'ning went to depth profoundest, mark'd
That innate freedom, and were thence induc'd
To leave their moral teaching to the world.
Grant then, that from necessity arise
All love that glows within you; to dismiss
Or harbour it, the pow'r is in yourselves.
Remember, Beatrice, in her style,
Denominates free choice by eminence
The noble virtue, if in talk with thee
She touch upon that theme."  The moon, well nigh
To midnight hour belated, made the stars
Appear to wink and fade; and her broad disk
Seem'd like a crag on fire, as up the vault
That course she journey'd, which the sun then warms,
When they of Rome behold him at his set.
Betwixt Sardinia and the Corsic isle.
And now the weight, that hung upon my thought,
Was lighten'd by the aid of that clear spirit,
Who raiseth Andes above Mantua's name.
I therefore, when my questions had obtain'd
Solution plain and ample, stood as one
Musing in dreary slumber; but not long
Slumber'd; for suddenly a multitude,
The steep already turning, from behind,
Rush'd on.  With fury and like random rout,
As echoing on their shores at midnight heard
Ismenus and Asopus, for his Thebes
If Bacchus' help were needed; so came these
Tumultuous, curving each his rapid step,
By eagerness impell'd of holy love.
     Soon they o'ertook us; with such swiftness mov'd
The mighty crowd.  Two spirits at their head
Cried weeping; "Blessed Mary sought with haste
The hilly region.  Caesar to subdue
Ilerda, darted in Marseilles his sting,
And flew to Spain."--"Oh tarry not: away;"
The others shouted; "let not time be lost
Through slackness of affection.  Hearty zeal
To serve reanimates celestial grace."
     "O ye, in whom intenser fervency
Haply supplies, where lukewarm erst ye fail'd,
Slow or neglectful, to absolve your part
Of good and virtuous, this man, who yet lives,
(Credit my tale, though strange) desires t' ascend,
So morning rise to light us.  Therefore say
Which hand leads nearest to the rifted rock?"
     So spake my guide, to whom a shade return'd:
"Come after us, and thou shalt find the cleft.
We may not linger: such resistless will
Speeds our unwearied course.  Vouchsafe us then
Thy pardon, if our duty seem to thee
Discourteous rudeness.  In Verona I
Was abbot of San Zeno, when the hand
Of Barbarossa grasp'd Imperial sway,
That name, ne'er utter'd without tears in Milan.
And there is he, hath one foot in his grave,
Who for that monastery ere long shall weep,
Ruing his power misus'd: for that his son,
Of body ill compact, and worse in mind,
And born in evil, he hath set in place
Of its true pastor."  Whether more he spake,
Or here was mute, I know not: he had sped
E'en now so far beyond us.  Yet thus much
I heard, and in rememb'rance treasur'd it.
     He then, who never fail'd me at my need,
Cried, "Hither turn.  Lo!  two with sharp remorse
Chiding their sin!"  In rear of all the troop
These shouted:  "First they died, to whom the sea
Open'd, or ever Jordan saw his heirs:
And they, who with Aeneas to the end
Endur'd not suffering, for their portion chose
Life without glory."  Soon as they had fled
Past reach of sight, new thought within me rose
By others follow'd fast, and each unlike
Its fellow: till led on from thought to thought,
And pleasur'd with the fleeting train, mine eye
Was clos'd, and meditation chang'd to dream.
It was the hour, when of diurnal heat
No reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,
O'erpower'd by earth, or planetary sway
Of Saturn; and the geomancer sees
His Greater Fortune up the east ascend,
Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone;
When 'fore me in my dream a woman's shape
There came, with lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant,
Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale.
     I look'd upon her; and as sunshine cheers
Limbs numb'd by nightly cold, e'en thus my look
Unloos'd her tongue, next in brief space her form
Decrepit rais'd erect, and faded face
With love's own hue illum'd. Recov'ring speech
She forthwith warbling such a strain began,
That I, how loth soe'er, could scarce have held
Attention from the song.  "I," thus she sang,
"I am the Siren, she, whom mariners
On the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear:
Such fulness of delight the list'ner feels.
I from his course Ulysses by my lay
Enchanted drew.  Whoe'er frequents me once
Parts seldom; so I charm him, and his heart
Contented knows no void."  Or ere her mouth
Was clos'd, to shame her at her side appear'd
A dame of semblance holy.  With stern voice
She utter'd; "Say, O Virgil, who is this?"
Which hearing, he approach'd, with eyes still bent
Toward that goodly presence: th' other seiz'd her,
And, her robes tearing, open'd her before,
And show'd the belly to me, whence a smell,
Exhaling loathsome, wak'd me.  Round I turn'd
Mine eyes, and thus the teacher:  "At the least
Three times my voice hath call'd thee.  Rise, begone.
Let us the opening find where thou mayst pass."
     I straightway rose.  Now day, pour'd down from high,
Fill'd all the circuits of the sacred mount;
And, as we journey'd, on our shoulder smote
The early ray.  I follow'd, stooping low
My forehead, as a man, o'ercharg'd with thought,
Who bends him to the likeness of an arch,
That midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,
"Come, enter here," in tone so soft and mild,
As never met the ear on mortal strand.
     With swan-like wings dispread and pointing up,
Who thus had spoken marshal'd us along,
Where each side of the solid masonry
The sloping, walls retir'd; then mov'd his plumes,
And fanning us, affirm'd that those, who mourn,
Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs.
     "What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth?"
Began my leader; while th' angelic shape
A little over us his station took.
     "New vision," I replied, "hath rais'd in me
8urmisings strange and anxious doubts, whereon
My soul intent allows no other thought
Or room or entrance.--"Hast thou seen," said he,
"That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone
The spirits o'er us weep for?  Hast thou seen
How man may free him of her bonds?  Enough.
Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais'd ken
Fix on the lure, which heav'n's eternal King
Whirls in the rolling spheres."  As on his feet
The falcon first looks down, then to the sky
Turns, and forth stretches eager for the food,
That woos him thither; so the call I heard,
So onward, far as the dividing rock
Gave way, I journey'd, till the plain was reach'd.
     On the fifth circle when I stood at large,
A race appear'd before me, on the ground
All downward lying prone and weeping sore.
"My soul hath cleaved to the dust," I heard
With sighs so deep, they well nigh choak'd the words.
"O ye elect of God, whose penal woes
Both hope and justice mitigate, direct
Tow'rds the steep rising our uncertain way."
     "If ye approach secure from this our doom,
Prostration--and would urge your course with speed,
See that ye still to rightward keep the brink."
     So them the bard besought; and such the words,
Beyond us some short space, in answer came.
     I noted what remain'd yet hidden from them:
Thence to my liege's eyes mine eyes I bent,
And he, forthwith interpreting their suit,
Beckon'd his glad assent. Free then to act,
As pleas'd me, I drew near, and took my stand
O`er that shade, whose words I late had mark'd.
And, "Spirit!"  I said, "in whom repentant tears
Mature that blessed hour, when thou with God
Shalt find acceptance, for a while suspend
For me that mightier care.  Say who thou wast,
Why thus ye grovel on your bellies prone,
And if in aught ye wish my service there,
Whence living I am come."  He answering spake
"The cause why Heav'n our back toward his cope
Reverses, shalt thou know: but me know first
The successor of Peter, and the name
And title of my lineage from that stream,
That' twixt Chiaveri and Siestri draws
His limpid waters through the lowly glen.
A month and little more by proof I learnt,
With what a weight that robe of sov'reignty
Upon his shoulder rests, who from the mire
Would guard it: that each other fardel seems
But feathers in the balance.  Late, alas!
Was my conversion: but when I became
Rome's pastor, I discern'd at once the dream
And cozenage of life, saw that the heart
Rested not there, and yet no prouder height
Lur'd on the climber: wherefore, of that life
No more enamour'd, in my bosom love
Of purer being kindled.  For till then
I was a soul in misery, alienate
From God, and covetous of all earthly things;
Now, as thou seest, here punish'd for my doting.
Such cleansing from the taint of avarice
Do spirits converted need.  This mount inflicts
No direr penalty.  E'en as our eyes
Fasten'd below, nor e'er to loftier clime
Were lifted, thus hath justice level'd us
Here on the earth.  As avarice quench'd our love
Of good, without which is no working, thus
Here justice holds us prison'd, hand and foot
Chain'd down and bound, while heaven's just Lord shall please.
So long to tarry motionless outstretch'd."
     My knees I stoop'd, and would have spoke; but he,
Ere my beginning, by his ear perceiv'd
I did him reverence; and "What cause," said he,
"Hath bow'd thee thus!"--" Compunction," I rejoin'd.
"And inward awe of your high dignity."
     "Up," he exclaim'd, "brother!  upon thy feet
Arise: err not: thy fellow servant I,
(Thine and all others') of one Sovran Power.
If thou hast ever mark'd those holy sounds
Of gospel truth, 'nor shall be given ill marriage,'
Thou mayst discern the reasons of my speech.
Go thy ways now; and linger here no more.
Thy tarrying is a let unto the tears,
With which I hasten that whereof thou spak'st.
I have on earth a kinswoman; her name
Alagia, worthy in herself, so ill
Example of our house corrupt her not:
And she is all remaineth of me there."
Ill strives the will, 'gainst will more wise that strives
His pleasure therefore to mine own preferr'd,
I drew the sponge yet thirsty from the wave.
     Onward I mov'd: he also onward mov'd,
Who led me, coasting still, wherever place
Along the rock was vacant, as a man
Walks near the battlements on narrow wall.
For those on th' other part, who drop by drop
Wring out their all-infecting malady,
Too closely press the verge.  Accurst be thou!
Inveterate wolf!  whose gorge ingluts more prey,
Than every beast beside, yet is not fill'd!
So bottomless thy maw!  --Ye spheres of heaven!
To whom there are, as seems, who attribute
All change in mortal state, when is the day
Of his appearing, for whom fate reserves
To chase her hence?  --With wary steps and slow
We pass'd; and I attentive to the shades,
Whom piteously I heard lament and wail;
And, 'midst the wailing, one before us heard
Cry out "O blessed Virgin!"  as a dame
In the sharp pangs of childbed; and "How poor
Thou wast," it added, "witness that low roof
Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down.
O good Fabricius!  thou didst virtue choose
With poverty, before great wealth with vice."
     The words so pleas'd me, that desire to know
The spirit, from whose lip they seem'd to come,
Did draw me onward.  Yet it spake the gift
Of Nicholas, which on the maidens he
Bounteous bestow'd, to save their youthful prime
Unblemish'd.  "Spirit!  who dost speak of deeds
So worthy, tell me who thou was," I said,
"And why thou dost with single voice renew
Memorial of such praise. That boon vouchsaf'd
Haply shall meet reward; if I return
To finish the Short pilgrimage of life,
Still speeding to its close on restless wing."
     "I," answer'd he, "will tell thee, not for hell,
Which thence I look for; but that in thyself
Grace so exceeding shines, before thy time
Of mortal dissolution.  I was root
Of that ill plant, whose shade such poison sheds
O'er all the Christian land, that seldom thence
Good fruit is gather'd.  Vengeance soon should come,
Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power;
And vengeance I of heav'n's great Judge implore.
Hugh Capet was I high: from me descend
The Philips and the Louis, of whom France
Newly is govern'd; born of one, who ply'd
The slaughterer's trade at Paris.  When the race
Of ancient kings had vanish'd (all save one
Wrapt up in sable weeds) within my gripe
I found the reins of empire, and such powers
Of new acquirement, with full store of friends,
That soon the widow'd circlet of the crown
Was girt upon the temples of my son,
He, from whose bones th' anointed race begins.
Till the great dower of Provence had remov'd
The stains, that yet obscur'd our lowly blood,
Its sway indeed was narrow, but howe'er
It wrought no evil: there, with force and lies,
Began its rapine; after, for amends,
Poitou it seiz'd, Navarre and Gascony.
To Italy came Charles, and for amends
Young Conradine an innocent victim slew,
And sent th' angelic teacher back to heav'n,
Still for amends.  I see the time at hand,
That forth from France invites another Charles
To make himself and kindred better known.
Unarm'd he issues, saving with that lance,
Which the arch-traitor tilted with; and that
He carries with so home a thrust, as rives
The bowels of poor Florence.  No increase
Of territory hence, but sin and shame
Shall be his guerdon, and so much the more
As he more lightly deems of such foul wrong.
I see the other, who a prisoner late
Had steps on shore, exposing to the mart
His daughter, whom he bargains for, as do
The Corsairs for their slaves.  O avarice!
What canst thou more, who hast subdued our blood
So wholly to thyself, they feel no care
Of their own flesh?  To hide with direr guilt
Past ill and future, lo!  the flower-de-luce
Enters Alagna!  in his Vicar Christ
Himself a captive, and his mockery
Acted again! Lo!  to his holy lip
The vinegar and gall once more applied!
And he 'twixt living robbers doom'd to bleed!
Lo!  the new Pilate, of whose cruelty
Such violence cannot fill the measure up,
With no degree to sanction, pushes on
Into the temple his yet eager sails!
     "O sovran Master!  when shall I rejoice
To see the vengeance, which thy wrath well-pleas'd
In secret silence broods?--While daylight lasts,
So long what thou didst hear of her, sole spouse
Of the Great Spirit, and on which thou turn'dst
To me for comment, is the general theme
Of all our prayers: but when it darkens, then
A different strain we utter, then record
Pygmalion, whom his gluttonous thirst of gold
Made traitor, robber, parricide: the woes
Of Midas, which his greedy wish ensued,
Mark'd for derision to all future times:
And the fond Achan, how he stole the prey,
That yet he seems by Joshua's ire pursued.
Sapphira with her husband next, we blame;
And praise the forefeet, that with furious ramp
Spurn'd Heliodorus.  All the mountain round
Rings with the infamy of Thracia's king,
Who slew his Phrygian charge: and last a shout
Ascends:  "Declare, O Crassus!  for thou know'st,
The flavour of thy gold."  The voice of each
Now high now low, as each his impulse prompts,
Is led through many a pitch, acute or grave.
Therefore, not singly, I erewhile rehears'd
That blessedness we tell of in the day:
But near me none beside his accent rais'd."
     From him we now had parted, and essay'd
With utmost efforts to surmount the way,
When I did feel, as nodding to its fall,
The mountain tremble; whence an icy chill
Seiz'd on me, as on one to death convey'd.
So shook not Delos, when Latona there
Couch'd to bring forth the twin-born eyes of heaven.
     Forthwith from every side a shout arose
So vehement, that suddenly my guide
Drew near, and cried: "Doubt not, while I conduct thee."
"Glory!" all shouted (such the sounds mine ear
Gather'd from those, who near me swell'd the sounds)
"Glory in the highest be to God."  We stood
Immovably suspended, like to those,
The shepherds, who first heard in Bethlehem's field
That song: till ceas'd the trembling, and the song
Was ended: then our hallow'd path resum'd,
Eying the prostrate shadows, who renew'd
Their custom'd mourning.  Never in my breast
Did ignorance so struggle with desire
Of knowledge, if my memory do not err,
As in that moment; nor through haste dar'd I
To question, nor myself could aught discern,
So on I far'd in thoughtfulness and dread.
The natural thirst, ne'er quench'd but from the well,
Whereof the woman of Samaria crav'd,
Excited: haste along the cumber'd path,
After my guide, impell'd; and pity mov'd
My bosom for the 'vengeful deed, though just.
When lo!  even as Luke relates, that Christ
Appear'd unto the two upon their way,
New-risen from his vaulted grave; to us
A shade appear'd, and after us approach'd,
Contemplating the crowd beneath its feet.
We were not ware of it; so first it spake,
Saying, "God give you peace, my brethren!" then
Sudden we turn'd: and Virgil such salute,
As fitted that kind greeting, gave, and cried:
"Peace in the blessed council be thy lot
Awarded by that righteous court, which me
To everlasting banishment exiles!"
     "How!" he exclaim'd, nor from his speed meanwhile
Desisting, "If that ye be spirits, whom God
Vouchsafes not room above, who up the height
Has been thus far your guide?"  To whom the bard:
"If thou observe the tokens, which this man
Trac'd by the finger of the angel bears,
'Tis plain that in the kingdom of the just
He needs must share.  But sithence she, whose wheel
Spins day and night, for him not yet had drawn
That yarn, which, on the fatal distaff pil'd,
Clotho apportions to each wight that breathes,
His soul, that sister is to mine and thine,
Not of herself could mount, for not like ours
Her ken: whence I, from forth the ample gulf
Of hell was ta'en, to lead him, and will lead
Far as my lore avails.  But, if thou know,
Instruct us for what cause, the mount erewhile
Thus shook and trembled: wherefore all at once
Seem'd shouting, even from his wave-wash'd foot."
     That questioning so tallied with my wish,
The thirst did feel abatement of its edge
E'en from expectance.  He forthwith replied,
"In its devotion nought irregular
This mount can witness, or by punctual rule
Unsanction'd; here from every change exempt.
Other than that, which heaven in itself
Doth of itself receive, no influence
Can reach us.  Tempest none, shower, hail or snow,
Hoar frost or dewy moistness, higher falls
Than that brief scale of threefold steps: thick clouds
Nor scudding rack are ever seen: swift glance
Ne'er lightens, nor Thaumantian Iris gleams,
That yonder often shift on each side heav'n.
Vapour adust doth never mount above
The highest of the trinal stairs, whereon
Peter's vicegerent stands.  Lower perchance,
With various motion rock'd, trembles the soil:
But here, through wind in earth's deep hollow pent,
I know not how, yet never trembled: then
Trembles, when any spirit feels itself
So purified, that it may rise, or move
For rising, and such loud acclaim ensues.
Purification by the will alone
Is prov'd, that free to change society
Seizes the soul rejoicing in her will.
Desire of bliss is present from the first;
But strong propension hinders, to that wish
By the just ordinance of heav'n oppos'd;
Propension now as eager to fulfil
Th' allotted torment, as erewhile to sin.
And I who in this punishment had lain
Five hundred years and more, but now have felt
Free wish for happier clime.  Therefore thou felt'st
The mountain tremble, and the spirits devout
Heard'st, over all his limits, utter praise
To that liege Lord, whom I entreat their joy
To hasten."  Thus he spake: and since the draught
Is grateful ever as the thirst is keen,
No words may speak my fullness of content.
     "Now," said the instructor sage, "I see the net
That takes ye here, and how the toils are loos'd,
Why rocks the mountain and why ye rejoice.
Vouchsafe, that from thy lips I next may learn,
Who on the earth thou wast, and wherefore here
So many an age wert prostrate." --"In that time,
When the good Titus, with Heav'n's King to help,
Aveng'd those piteous gashes, whence the blood
By Judas sold did issue, with the name
Most lasting and most honour'd there was I
Abundantly renown'd," the shade reply'd,
"Not yet with faith endued.  So passing sweet
My vocal Spirit, from Tolosa, Rome
To herself drew me, where I merited
A myrtle garland to inwreathe my brow.
Statius they name me still.  Of Thebes I sang,
And next of great Achilles: but i' th' way
Fell with the second burthen.  Of my flame
Those sparkles were the seeds, which I deriv'd
From the bright fountain of celestial fire
That feeds unnumber'd lamps, the song I mean
Which sounds Aeneas' wand'rings: that the breast
I hung at, that the nurse, from whom my veins
Drank inspiration: whose authority
Was ever sacred with me.  To have liv'd
Coeval with the Mantuan, I would bide
The revolution of another sun
Beyond my stated years in banishment."
     The Mantuan, when he heard him, turn'd to me,
And holding silence: by his countenance
Enjoin'd me silence but the power which wills,
Bears not supreme control: laughter and tears
Follow so closely on the passion prompts them,
They wait not for the motions of the will
In natures most sincere.  I did but smile,
As one who winks; and thereupon the shade
Broke off, and peer'd into mine eyes, where best
Our looks interpret. "So to good event
Mayst thou conduct such great emprize," he cried,
"Say, why across thy visage beam'd, but now,
The lightning of a smile!"  On either part
Now am I straiten'd; one conjures me speak,
Th' other to silence binds me: whence a sigh
I utter, and the sigh is heard.  "Speak on; "
The teacher cried;  "and do not fear to speak,
But tell him what so earnestly he asks."
Whereon I thus:  "Perchance, O ancient spirit!
Thou marvel'st at my smiling. There is room
For yet more wonder.  He who guides my ken
On high, he is that Mantuan, led by whom
Thou didst presume of men arid gods to sing.
If other cause thou deem'dst for which I smil'd,
Leave it as not the true one; and believe
Those words, thou spak'st of him, indeed the cause."
     Now down he bent t' embrace my teacher's feet;
But he forbade him:  "Brother!  do it not:
Thou art a shadow, and behold'st a shade."
He rising answer'd thus:  "Now hast thou prov'd
The force and ardour of the love I bear thee,
When I forget we are but things of air,
And as a substance treat an empty shade."
Now we had left the angel, who had turn'd
To the sixth circle our ascending step,
One gash from off my forehead raz'd: while they,
Whose wishes tend to justice, shouted forth:
"Blessed!"  and ended with, "I thirst:" and I,
More nimble than along the other straits,
So journey'd, that, without the sense of toil,
I follow'd upward the swift-footed shades;
When Virgil thus began:  "Let its pure flame
From virtue flow, and love can never fail
To warm another's bosom' so the light
Shine manifestly forth.  Hence from that hour,
When 'mongst us in the purlieus of the deep,
Came down the spirit of Aquinum's hard,
Who told of thine affection, my good will
Hath been for thee of quality as strong
As ever link'd itself to one not seen.
Therefore these stairs will now seem short to me.
But tell me: and if too secure I loose
The rein with a friend's license, as a friend
Forgive me, and speak now as with a friend:
How chanc'd it covetous desire could find
Place in that bosom, 'midst such ample store
Of wisdom, as thy zeal had treasur'd there?"
     First somewhat mov'd to laughter by his words,
Statius replied: "Each syllable of thine
Is a dear pledge of love.  Things oft appear
That minister false matters to our doubts,
When their true causes are remov'd from sight.
Thy question doth assure me, thou believ'st
I was on earth a covetous man, perhaps
Because thou found'st me in that circle plac'd.
Know then I was too wide of avarice:
And e'en for that excess, thousands of moons
Have wax'd and wan'd upon my sufferings.
And were it not that I with heedful care
Noted where thou exclaim'st as if in ire
With human nature, 'Why, thou cursed thirst
Of gold!  dost not with juster measure guide
The appetite of mortals?'  I had met
The fierce encounter of the voluble rock.
Then was I ware that with too ample wing
The hands may haste to lavishment, and turn'd,
As from my other evil, so from this
In penitence.  How many from their grave
Shall with shorn locks arise, who living, aye
And at life's last extreme, of this offence,
Through ignorance, did not repent.  And know,
The fault which lies direct from any sin
In level opposition, here With that
Wastes its green rankness on one common heap.
Therefore if I have been with those, who wail
Their avarice, to cleanse me, through reverse
Of their transgression, such hath been my lot."
     To whom the sovran of the pastoral song:
"While thou didst sing that cruel warfare wag'd
By the twin sorrow of Jocasta's womb,
From thy discourse with Clio there, it seems
As faith had not been shine: without the which
Good deeds suffice not.  And if so, what sun
Rose on thee, or what candle pierc'd the dark
That thou didst after see to hoist the sail,
And follow, where the fisherman had led?"
     He answering thus: "By thee conducted first,
I enter'd the Parnassian grots, and quaff'd
Of the clear spring; illumin'd first by thee
Open'd mine eyes to God.  Thou didst, as one,
Who, journeying through the darkness, hears a light
Behind, that profits not himself, but makes
His followers wise, when thou exclaimedst, 'Lo!
A renovated world!  Justice return'd!
Times of primeval innocence restor'd!
And a new race descended from above!'
Poet and Christian both to thee I owed.
That thou mayst mark more clearly what I trace,
My hand shall stretch forth to inform the lines
With livelier colouring.  Soon o'er all the world,
By messengers from heav'n, the true belief
Teem'd now prolific, and that word of thine
Accordant, to the new instructors chim'd.
Induc'd by which agreement, I was wont
Resort to them; and soon their sanctity
So won upon me, that, Domitian's rage
Pursuing them, I mix'd my tears with theirs,
And, while on earth I stay'd, still succour'd them;
And their most righteous customs made me scorn
All sects besides.  Before I led the Greeks
In tuneful fiction, to the streams of Thebes,
I was baptiz'd; but secretly, through fear,
Remain'd a Christian, and conform'd long time
To Pagan rites.  Five centuries and more,
T for that lukewarmness was fain to pace
Round the fourth circle.  Thou then, who hast rais'd
The covering, which did hide such blessing from me,
Whilst much of this ascent is yet to climb,
Say, if thou know, where our old Terence bides,
Caecilius, Plautus, Varro: if condemn'd
They dwell, and in what province of the deep."
"These," said my guide, "with Persius and myself,
And others many more, are with that Greek,
Of mortals, the most cherish'd by the Nine,
In the first ward of darkness.  There ofttimes
We of that mount hold converse, on whose top
For aye our nurses live.  We have the bard
Of Pella, and the Teian, Agatho,
Simonides, and many a Grecian else
Ingarlanded with laurel.  Of thy train
Antigone is there, Deiphile,
Argia, and as sorrowful as erst
Ismene, and who show'd Langia's wave:
Deidamia with her sisters there,
And blind Tiresias' daughter, and the bride
Sea-born of Peleus."  Either poet now
Was silent, and no longer by th' ascent
Or the steep walls obstructed, round them cast
Inquiring eyes.  Four handmaids of the day
Had finish'd now their office, and the fifth
Was at the chariot-beam, directing still
Its balmy point aloof, when thus my guide:
"Methinks, it well behooves us to the brink
Bend the right shoulder' circuiting the mount,
As we have ever us'd."  So custom there
Was usher to the road, the which we chose
Less doubtful, as that worthy shade complied.
     They on before me went; I sole pursued,
List'ning their speech, that to my thoughts convey'd
Mysterious lessons of sweet poesy.
But soon they ceas'd; for midway of the road
A tree we found, with goodly fruitage hung,
And pleasant to the smell: and as a fir
Upward from bough to bough less ample spreads,
So downward this less ample spread, that none.
Methinks, aloft may climb.  Upon the side,
That clos'd our path, a liquid crystal fell
From the steep rock, and through the sprays above
Stream'd showering.  With associate step the bards
Drew near the plant; and from amidst the leaves
A voice was heard:  "Ye shall be chary of me;"
And after added: "Mary took more thought
For joy and honour of the nuptial feast,
Than for herself who answers now for you.
The women of old Rome were satisfied
With water for their beverage.  Daniel fed
On pulse, and wisdom gain'd.  The primal age
Was beautiful as gold; and hunger then
Made acorns tasteful, thirst each rivulet
Run nectar.  Honey and locusts were the food,
Whereon the Baptist in the wilderness
Fed, and that eminence of glory reach'd
And greatness, which the' Evangelist records."
On the green leaf mine eyes were fix'd, like his
Who throws away his days in idle chase
Of the diminutive, when thus I heard
The more than father warn me: "Son!  our time
Asks thriftier using.  Linger not: away."
     Thereat my face and steps at once I turn'd
Toward the sages, by whose converse cheer'd
I journey'd on, and felt no toil: and lo!
A sound of weeping and a song: "My lips,
O Lord!" and these so mingled, it gave birth
To pleasure and to pain.  "O Sire, belov'd!
Say what is this I hear?"  Thus I inquir'd.
     "Spirits," said he, "who as they go, perchance,
Their debt of duty pay."  As on their road
The thoughtful pilgrims, overtaking some
Not known unto them, turn to them, and look,
But stay not; thus, approaching from behind
With speedier motion, eyed us, as they pass'd,
A crowd of spirits, silent and devout.
The eyes of each were dark and hollow: pale
Their visage, and so lean withal, the bones
Stood staring thro' the skin.  I do not think
Thus dry and meagre Erisicthon show'd,
When pinc'ed by sharp-set famine to the quick.
     "Lo!" to myself I mus'd, "the race, who lost
Jerusalem, when Mary with dire beak
Prey'd on her child."  The sockets seem'd as rings,
From which the gems were drops.  Who reads the name
Of man upon his forehead, there the M
Had trac'd most plainly.  Who would deem, that scent
Of water and an apple, could have prov'd
Powerful to generate such pining want,
Not knowing how it wrought?  While now I stood
Wond'ring what thus could waste them (for the cause
Of their gaunt hollowness and scaly rind
Appear'd not) lo!  a spirit turn'd his eyes
In their deep-sunken cell, and fasten'd then
On me, then cried with vehemence aloud:
"What grace is this vouchsaf'd me?"  By his looks
I ne'er had recogniz'd him: but the voice
Brought to my knowledge what his cheer conceal'd.
Remembrance of his alter'd lineaments
Was kindled from that spark; and I agniz'd
The visage of Forese.  "Ah! respect
This wan and leprous wither'd skin," thus he
Suppliant implor'd, "this macerated flesh.
Speak to me truly of thyself.  And who
Are those twain spirits, that escort thee there?
Be it not said thou Scorn'st to talk with me."
     "That face of thine," I answer'd him, "which dead
I once bewail'd, disposes me not less
For weeping, when I see It thus transform'd.
Say then, by Heav'n, what blasts ye thus?  The whilst
I wonder, ask not Speech from me:  unapt
Is he to speak, whom other will employs.
     He thus:  "The water and tee plant we pass'd,
Virtue possesses, by th' eternal will
Infus'd, the which so pines me.  Every spirit,
Whose song bewails his gluttony indulg'd
Too grossly, here in hunger and in thirst
Is purified.  The odour, which the fruit,
And spray, that showers upon the verdure, breathe,
Inflames us with desire to feed and drink.
Nor once alone encompassing our route
We come to add fresh fuel to the pain:
Pain, said I?  solace rather: for that will
To the tree leads us, by which Christ was led
To call Elias, joyful when he paid
Our ransom from his vein."  I answering thus:
"Forese!  from that day, in which the world
For better life thou changedst, not five years
Have circled.  If the power of sinning more
Were first concluded in thee, ere thou knew'st
That kindly grief, which re-espouses us
To God, how hither art thou come so soon?
I thought to find thee lower, there, where time
Is recompense for time."  He straight replied:
"To drink up the sweet wormwood of affliction
I have been brought thus early by the tears
Stream'd down my Nella's cheeks.  Her prayers devout,
Her sighs have drawn me from the coast, where oft
Expectance lingers, and have set me free
From th' other circles.  In the sight of God
So much the dearer is my widow priz'd,
She whom I lov'd so fondly, as she ranks
More singly eminent for virtuous deeds.
The tract most barb'rous of Sardinia's isle,
Hath dames more chaste and modester by far
Than that wherein I left her.  O sweet brother!
What wouldst thou have me say?  A time to come
Stands full within my view, to which this hour
Shall not be counted of an ancient date,
When from the pulpit shall be loudly warn'd
Th' unblushing dames of Florence, lest they bare
Unkerchief'd bosoms to the common gaze.
What savage women hath the world e'er seen,
What Saracens, for whom there needed scourge
Of spiritual or other discipline,
To force them walk with cov'ring on their limbs!
But did they see, the shameless ones, that Heav'n
Wafts on swift wing toward them, while I speak,
Their mouths were op'd for howling: they shall taste
Of Borrow (unless foresight cheat me here)
Or ere the cheek of him be cloth'd with down
Who is now rock'd with lullaby asleep.
Ah!  now, my brother, hide thyself no more,
Thou seest how not I alone but all
Gaze, where thou veil'st the intercepted sun."
     Whence I replied: "If thou recall to mind
What we were once together, even yet
Remembrance of those days may grieve thee sore.
That I forsook that life, was due to him
Who there precedes me, some few evenings past,
When she was round, who shines with sister lamp
To his, that glisters yonder," and I show'd
The sun.  "Tis he, who through profoundest night
Of he true dead has brought me, with this flesh
As true, that follows.  From that gloom the aid
Of his sure comfort drew me on to climb,
And climbing wind along this mountain-steep,
Which rectifies in you whate'er the world
Made crooked and deprav'd I have his word,
That he will bear me company as far
As till I come where Beatrice dwells:
But there must leave me.  Virgil is that spirit,
Who thus hath promis'd,"  and I pointed to him;
"The other is that shade, for whom so late
Your realm, as he arose, exulting shook
Through every pendent cliff and rocky bound."
Our journey was not slacken'd by our talk,
Nor yet our talk by journeying.  Still we spake,
And urg'd our travel stoutly, like a ship
When the wind sits astern.  The shadowy forms,
That seem'd things dead and dead again, drew in
At their deep-delved orbs rare wonder of me,
Perceiving I had life; and I my words
Continued, and thus spake; "He journeys up
Perhaps more tardily then else he would,
For others' sake.  But tell me, if thou know'st,
Where is Piccarda?  Tell me, if I see
Any of mark, among this multitude,
Who eye me thus."--"My sister (she for whom,
'Twixt beautiful and good I cannot say
Which name was fitter ) wears e'en now her crown,
And triumphs in Olympus."  Saying this,
He added: "Since spare diet hath so worn
Our semblance out, 't is lawful here to name
Each one .   This," and his finger then he rais'd,
"Is Buonaggiuna,--Buonaggiuna, he
Of Lucca: and that face beyond him, pierc'd
Unto a leaner fineness than the rest,
Had keeping of the church: he was of Tours,
And purges by wan abstinence away
Bolsena's eels and cups of muscadel."
     He show'd me many others, one by one,
And all, as they were nam'd, seem'd well content;
For no dark gesture I discern'd in any.
I saw through hunger Ubaldino grind
His teeth on emptiness; and Boniface,
That wav'd the crozier o'er a num'rous flock.
I saw the Marquis, who tad time erewhile
To swill at Forli with less drought, yet so
Was one ne'er sated.  I howe'er, like him,
That gazing 'midst a crowd, singles out one,
So singled him of Lucca; for methought
Was none amongst them took such note of me.
Somewhat I heard him whisper of Gentucca:
The sound was indistinct, and murmur'd there,
Where justice, that so strips them, fix'd her sting.
     "Spirit!" said I, "it seems as thou wouldst fain
Speak with me.  Let me hear thee.  Mutual wish
To converse prompts, which let us both indulge."
     He, answ'ring, straight began: "Woman is born,
Whose brow no wimple shades yet, that shall make
My city please thee, blame it as they may.
Go then with this forewarning.  If aught false
My whisper too implied, th' event shall tell
But say, if of a  truth I see the man
Of that new lay th' inventor, which begins
With 'Ladies, ye that con the lore of love'."
     To whom I thus:  "Count of me but as one
Who am the scribe of love; that, when he breathes,
Take up my pen, and, as he dictates, write."
     "Brother!" said he, "the hind'rance which once held
The notary with Guittone and myself,
Short of that new and sweeter style I hear,
Is now disclos'd.  I see how ye your plumes
Stretch, as th' inditer guides them; which, no question,
Ours did not.  He that seeks a grace beyond,
Sees not the distance parts one style from other."
And, as contented, here he held his peace.
     Like as the bird, that winter near the Nile,
In squared regiment direct their course,
Then stretch themselves in file for speedier flight;
Thus all the tribe of spirits, as they turn'd
Their visage, faster deaf, nimble alike
Through leanness and desire.  And as a man,
Tir'd With the motion of a trotting steed,
Slacks pace, and stays behind his company,
Till his o'erbreathed lungs keep temperate time;
E'en so Forese let that holy crew
Proceed, behind them lingering at my side,
And saying: "When shall I again behold thee?"
     "How long my life may last," said I, "I know not;
This know, how soon soever I return,
My wishes will before me have arriv'd.
Sithence the place, where I am set to live,
Is, day by day, more scoop'd of all its good,
And dismal ruin seems to threaten it."
     "Go now," he cried:  "lo!  he, whose guilt is most,
Passes before my vision, dragg'd at heels
Of an infuriate beast.  Toward the vale,
Where guilt hath no redemption, on it speeds,
Each step increasing swiftness on the last;
Until a blow it strikes, that leaveth him
A corse most vilely shatter'd.  No long space
Those wheels have yet to roll"  (therewith his eyes
Look'd up to heav'n) "ere thou shalt plainly see
That which my words may not more plainly tell.
I quit thee: time is precious here: I lose
Too much, thus measuring my pace with shine."
     As from a troop of well-rank'd chivalry
One knight, more enterprising than the rest,
Pricks forth at gallop, eager to display
His prowess in the first encounter prov'd
So parted he from us with lengthen'd strides,
And left me on the way with those twain spirits,
Who were such mighty marshals of the world.
     When he beyond us had so fled mine eyes
No nearer reach'd him, than my thought his words,
The branches of another fruit, thick hung,
And blooming fresh, appear'd.  E'en as our steps
Turn'd thither, not far off it rose to view.
Beneath it were a multitude, that rais'd
Their hands, and shouted forth I know not What
Unto the boughs; like greedy and fond brats,
That beg, and answer none obtain from him,
Of whom they beg; but more to draw them on,
He at arm's length the object of their wish
Above them holds aloft, and hides it not.
     At length, as undeceiv'd they went their way:
And we approach the tree, who vows and tears
Sue to in vain, the mighty tree.  "Pass on,
And come not near.  Stands higher up the wood,
Whereof Eve tasted, and from it was ta'en
'this plant." Such sounds from midst the thickets came.
Whence I, with either bard, close to the side
That rose, pass'd forth beyond.  "Remember," next
We heard, "those noblest creatures of the clouds,
How they their twofold bosoms overgorg'd
Oppos'd in fight to Theseus:  call to mind
The Hebrews, how effeminate they stoop'd
To ease their thirst; whence Gideon's ranks were thinn'd,
As he to Midian march'd adown the hills."
     Thus near one border coasting, still we heard
The sins of gluttony, with woe erewhile
Reguerdon'd.  Then along the lonely path,
Once more at large, full thousand paces on
We travel'd, each contemplative and mute.
     "Why pensive journey thus ye three alone?"
Thus suddenly a voice exclaim'd: whereat
I shook, as doth a scar'd and paltry beast;
Then rais'd my head to look from whence it came.
     Was ne'er, in furnace, glass, or metal seen
So bright and glowing red, as was the shape
I now beheld.  "If ye desire to mount,"
He cried, "here must ye turn.  This way he goes,
Who goes in quest of peace."  His countenance
Had dazzled me; and to my guides I fac'd
Backward, like one who walks, as sound directs.
     As when, to harbinger the dawn, springs up
On freshen'd wing the air of May, and breathes
Of fragrance, all impregn'd with herb and flowers,
E'en such a wind I felt upon my front
Blow gently, and the moving of a wing
Perceiv'd, that moving shed ambrosial smell;
And then a voice:  "Blessed are they, whom grace
Doth so illume, that appetite in them
Exhaleth no inordinate desire,
Still hung'ring as the rule of temperance wills."
It was an hour, when he who climbs, had need
To walk uncrippled: for the sun had now
To Taurus the meridian circle left,
And to the Scorpion left the night.  As one
That makes no pause, but presses on his road,
Whate'er betide him, if some urgent need
Impel: so enter'd we upon our way,
One before other; for, but singly, none
That steep and narrow scale admits to climb.
     E'en as the young stork lifteth up his wing
Through wish to fly, yet ventures not to quit
The nest, and drops it; so in me desire
Of questioning my guide arose, and fell,
Arriving even to the act, that marks
A man prepar'd for speech.  Him all our haste
Restrain'd not, but thus spake the sire belov'd:
Fear not to speed the shaft, that on thy lip
Stands trembling for its flight."  Encourag'd thus
I straight began:  "How there can leanness come,
Where is no want of nourishment to feed?"
     "If thou," he answer'd, "hadst remember'd thee,
How Meleager with the wasting brand
Wasted alike, by equal fires consm'd,
This would not trouble thee: and hadst thou thought,
How in the mirror your reflected form
With mimic motion vibrates, what now seems
Hard, had appear'd no harder than the pulp
Of summer fruit mature.  But that thy will
In certainty may find its full repose,
Lo Statius here!  on him I call, and pray
That he would now be healer of thy wound."
     "If in thy presence I unfold to him
The secrets of heaven's vengeance, let me plead
Thine own injunction, to exculpate me."
So Statius answer'd, and forthwith began:
"Attend my words, O son, and in thy mind
Receive them: so shall they be light to clear
The doubt thou offer'st. Blood, concocted well,
Which by the thirsty veins is ne'er imbib'd,
And rests as food superfluous, to be ta'en
From the replenish'd table, in the heart
Derives effectual virtue, that informs
The several human limbs, as being that,
Which passes through the veins itself to make them.
Yet more concocted it descends, where shame
Forbids to mention: and from thence distils
In natural vessel on another's blood.
Then each unite together, one dispos'd
T' endure, to act the other, through meet frame
Of its recipient mould: that being reach'd,
It 'gins to work, coagulating first;
Then vivifies what its own substance caus'd
To bear.  With animation now indued,
The active virtue (differing from a plant
No further, than that this is on the way
And at its limit that) continues yet
To operate, that now it moves, and feels,
As sea sponge clinging to the rock: and there
Assumes th' organic powers its seed convey'd.
'This is the period, son!  at which the virtue,
That from the generating heart proceeds,
Is pliant and expansive; for each limb
Is in the heart by forgeful nature plann'd.
How babe of animal becomes, remains
For thy consid'ring.  At this point, more wise,
Than thou hast err'd, making the soul disjoin'd
From passive intellect, because he saw
No organ for the latter's use assign'd.
     "Open thy bosom to the truth that comes.
Know soon as in the embryo, to the brain,
Articulation is complete, then turns
The primal Mover with a smile of joy
On such great work of nature, and imbreathes
New spirit replete with virtue, that what here
Active it finds, to its own substance draws,
And forms an individual soul, that lives,
And feels, and bends reflective on itself.
And that thou less mayst marvel at the word,
Mark the sun's heat, how that to wine doth change,
Mix'd with the moisture filter'd through the vine.
     "When Lachesis hath spun the thread, the soul
Takes with her both the human and divine,
Memory, intelligence, and will, in act
Far keener than before, the other powers
Inactive all and mute.  No pause allow'd,
In wond'rous sort self-moving, to one strand
Of those, where the departed roam, she falls,
Here learns her destin'd path.  Soon as the place
Receives her, round the plastic virtue beams,
Distinct as in the living limbs before:
And as the air, when saturate with showers,
The casual beam refracting, decks itself
With many a hue; so here the ambient air
Weareth that form, which influence of the soul
Imprints on it; and like the flame, that where
The fire moves, thither follows, so henceforth
The new form on the spirit follows still:
Hence hath it semblance, and is shadow call'd,
With each sense even to the sight endued:
Hence speech is ours, hence laughter, tears, and sighs
Which thou mayst oft have witness'd on the mount
Th' obedient shadow fails not to present
Whatever varying passion moves within us.
And this the cause of what thou marvel'st at."
     Now the last flexure of our way we reach'd,
And to the right hand turning, other care
Awaits us.  Here the rocky precipice
Hurls forth redundant flames, and from the rim
A blast upblown, with forcible rebuff
Driveth them back, sequester'd from its bound.
     Behoov'd us, one by one, along the side,
That border'd on the void, to pass; and I
Fear'd on one hand the fire, on th' other fear'd
Headlong to fall: when thus th' instructor warn'd:
"Strict rein must in this place direct the eyes.
A little swerving and the way is lost."
     Then from the bosom of the burning mass,
"O God of mercy!" heard I sung; and felt
No less desire to turn.  And when I saw
Spirits along the flame proceeding, I
Between their footsteps and mine own was fain
To share by turns my view.  At the hymn's close
They shouted loud, "I do not know a man;"
Then in low voice again took up the strain,
Which once more ended, "To the wood," they cried,
"Ran Dian, and drave forth Callisto, stung
With Cytherea's poison:" then return'd
Unto their song; then marry a pair extoll'd,
Who liv'd in virtue chastely, and the bands
Of wedded love.  Nor from that task, I ween,
Surcease they; whilesoe'er the scorching fire
Enclasps them.  Of such skill appliance needs
To medicine the wound, that healeth last.
While singly thus along the rim we walk'd,
Oft the good master warn'd me:  "Look thou well.
Avail it that I caution thee."  The sun
Now all the western clime irradiate chang'd
From azure tinct to white; and, as I pass'd,
My passing shadow made the umber'd flame
Burn ruddier.  At so strange a sight I mark'd
That many a spirit marvel'd on his way.
     This bred occasion first to speak of me,
"He seems," said they, "no insubstantial frame:"
Then to obtain what certainty they might,
Stretch'd towards me, careful not to overpass
The burning pale.  "O thou, who followest
The others, haply not more slow than they,
But mov'd by rev'rence, answer me, who burn
In thirst and fire: nor I alone, but these
All for thine answer do more thirst, than doth
Indian or Aethiop for the cooling stream.
Tell us, how is it that thou mak'st thyself
A wall against the sun, as thou not yet
Into th' inextricable toils of death
Hadst enter'd?"  Thus spake one, and I had straight
Declar'd me, if attention had not turn'd
To new appearance.  Meeting these, there came,
Midway the burning path, a crowd, on whom
Earnestly gazing, from each part I view
The shadows all press forward, sev'rally
Each snatch a hasty kiss, and then away.
E'en so the emmets, 'mid their dusky troops,
Peer closely one at other, to spy out
Their mutual road perchance, and how they thrive.
     That friendly greeting parted, ere dispatch
Of the first onward step, from either tribe
Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come,
Shout  Sodom and Gomorrah!" these, "The cow
Pasiphae enter'd, that the beast she woo'd
Might rush unto her luxury."  Then as cranes,
That part towards the Riphaean mountains fly,
Part towards the Lybic sands, these to avoid
The ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off
One crowd, advances th' other; and resume
Their first song weeping, and their several shout.
     Again drew near my side the very same,
Who had erewhile besought me, and their looks
Mark'd eagerness to listen.  I, who twice
Their will had noted, spake:  "O spirits secure,
Whene'er the time may be, of peaceful end!
My limbs, nor crude, nor in mature old age,
Have I left yonder: here they bear me, fed
With blood, and sinew-strung.  That I no more
May live in blindness, hence I tend aloft.
There is a dame on high, who wind for us
This grace, by which my mortal through your realm
I bear.  But may your utmost wish soon meet
Such full fruition, that the orb of heaven,
Fullest of love, and of most ample space,
Receive you, as ye tell (upon my page
Henceforth to stand recorded) who ye are,
And what this multitude, that at your backs
Have past behind us."  As one, mountain-bred,
Rugged and clownish, if some city's walls
He chance to enter, round him stares agape,
Confounded and struck dumb; e'en such appear'd
Each spirit.  But when rid of that amaze,
(Not long the inmate of a noble heart)
He, who before had question'd, thus resum'd:
"O blessed, who, for death preparing, tak'st
Experience of our limits, in thy bark!
Their crime, who not with us proceed, was that,
For which, as he did triumph, Caesar heard
The snout of 'queen,' to taunt him.  Hence their cry
Of 'Sodom,' as they parted, to rebuke
Themselves, and aid the burning by their shame.
Our sinning was Hermaphrodite: but we,
Because the law of human kind we broke,
Following like beasts our vile concupiscence,
Hence parting from them, to our own disgrace
Record the name of her, by whom the beast
In bestial tire was acted.  Now our deeds
Thou know'st, and how we sinn'd.  If thou by name
Wouldst haply know us, time permits not now
To tell so much, nor can I.  Of myself
Learn what thou wishest.  Guinicelli I,
Who having truly sorrow'd ere my last,
Already cleanse me."  With such pious joy,
As the two sons upon their mother gaz'd
From sad Lycurgus rescu'd, such my joy
(Save that I more represt it) when I heard
From his own lips the name of him pronounc'd,
Who was a father to me, and to those
My betters, who have ever us'd the sweet
And pleasant rhymes of love.  So nought I heard
Nor spake, but long time thoughtfully I went,
Gazing on him; and, only for the fire,
Approach'd not nearer.  When my eyes were fed
By looking on him, with such solemn pledge,
As forces credence, I devoted me
Unto his service wholly.  In reply
He thus bespake me:  "What from thee I hear
Is grav'd so deeply on my mind, the waves
Of Lethe shall not wash it off, nor make
A whit less lively.  But as now thy oath
Has seal'd the truth, declare what cause impels
That love, which both thy looks and speech bewray."
     "Those dulcet lays," I answer'd, "which, as long
As of our tongue the beauty does not fade,
Shall make us love the very ink that trac'd them."
     "Brother!"  he cried, and pointed at a shade
Before him, "there is one, whose mother speech
Doth owe to him a fairer ornament.
He in love ditties and the tales of prose
Without a rival stands, and lets the fools
Talk on, who think the songster of Limoges
O'ertops him.  Rumour and the popular voice
They look to more than truth, and so confirm
Opinion, ere by art or reason taught.
Thus many of the elder time cried up
Guittone, giving him the prize, till truth
By strength of numbers vanquish'd.  If thou own
So ample privilege, as to have gain'd
Free entrance to the cloister, whereof Christ
Is Abbot of the college, say to him
One paternoster for me, far as needs
For dwellers in this world, where power to sin
No longer tempts us."  Haply to make way
For one, that follow'd next, when that was said,
He vanish'd through the fire, as through the wave
A fish, that glances diving to the deep.
     I, to the spirit he had shown me, drew
A little onward, and besought his name,
For which my heart, I said, kept gracious room.
He frankly thus began:  "Thy courtesy
So wins on me, I have nor power nor will
To hide me.  I am Arnault; and with songs,
Sorely lamenting for my folly past,
Thorough this ford of fire I wade, and see
The day, I hope for, smiling in my view.
I pray ye by the worth that guides ye up
Unto the summit of the scale, in time
Remember ye my suff'rings."  With such words
He disappear'd in the refining flame.
Now was the sun so station'd, as when first
His early radiance quivers on the heights,
Where stream'd his Maker's blood, while Libra hangs
Above Hesperian Ebro, and new fires
Meridian flash on Ganges' yellow tide.
     So day was sinking, when the' angel of God
Appear'd before us.  Joy was in his mien.
Forth of the flame he stood upon the brink,
And with a voice, whose lively clearness far
Surpass'd our human, "Blessed are the pure
In heart," he Sang:  then near him as we came,
"Go ye not further, holy spirits!"  he cried,
"Ere the fire pierce you: enter in; and list
Attentive to the song ye hear from thence."
     I, when I heard his saying, was as one
Laid in the grave.  My hands together clasp'd,
And upward stretching, on the fire I look'd,
And busy fancy conjur'd up the forms
Erewhile beheld alive consum'd in flames.
     Th' escorting spirits turn'd with gentle looks
Toward me, and the Mantuan spake:  "My son,
Here torment thou mayst feel, but canst not death.
Remember thee, remember thee, if I
Safe e'en on Geryon brought thee: now I come
More near to God, wilt thou not trust me now?
Of this be sure: though in its womb that flame
A thousand years contain'd thee, from thy head
No hair should perish.  If thou doubt my truth,
Approach, and with thy hands thy vesture's hem
Stretch forth, and for thyself confirm belief.
Lay now all fear, O lay all fear aside.
Turn hither, and come onward undismay'd."
I still, though conscience urg'd' no step advanc'd.
     When still he saw me fix'd and obstinate,
Somewhat disturb'd he cried:  "Mark now, my son,
From Beatrice thou art by this wall
Divided."  As at Thisbe's name the eye
Of Pyramus was open'd (when life ebb'd
Fast from his veins), and took one parting glance,
While vermeil dyed the mulberry; thus I turn'd
To my sage guide, relenting, when I heard
The name, that springs forever in my breast.
     He shook his forehead; and, "How long," he said,
"Linger we now?"  then smil'd, as one would smile
Upon a child, that eyes the fruit and yields.
Into the fire before me then he walk'd;
And Statius, who erewhile no little space
Had parted us, he pray'd to come behind.
     I would have cast me into molten glass
To cool me, when I enter'd; so intense
Rag'd the conflagrant mass.  The sire belov'd,
To comfort me, as he proceeded, still
Of Beatrice talk'd.  "Her eyes," saith he,
"E'en now I seem to view."  From the other side
A voice, that sang, did guide us, and the voice
Following, with heedful ear, we issued forth,
There where the path led upward.  "Come," we heard,
"Come, blessed of my Father."  Such the sounds,
That hail'd us from within a light, which shone
So radiant, I could not endure the view.
"The sun," it added, "hastes: and evening comes.
Delay not: ere the western sky is hung
With blackness, strive ye for the pass."  Our way
Upright within the rock arose, and fac'd
Such part of heav'n, that from before my steps
The beams were shrouded of the sinking sun.
     Nor many stairs were overpass, when now
By fading of the shadow we perceiv'd
The sun behind us couch'd: and ere one face
Of darkness o'er its measureless expanse
Involv'd th' horizon, and the night her lot
Held individual, each of us had made
A stair his pallet: not that will, but power,
Had fail'd us, by the nature of that mount
Forbidden further travel.  As the goats,
That late have skipp'd and wanton'd rapidly
Upon the craggy cliffs, ere they had ta'en
Their supper on the herb, now silent lie
And ruminate beneath the umbrage brown,
While noonday rages; and the goatherd leans
Upon his staff, and leaning watches them:
And as the swain, that lodges out all night
In quiet by his flock, lest beast of prey
Disperse them; even so all three abode,
I as a goat and as the shepherds they,
Close pent on either side by shelving rock.
     A little glimpse of sky was seen above;
Yet by that little I beheld the stars
In magnitude and rustle shining forth
With more than wonted glory.  As I lay,
Gazing on them, and in that fit of musing,
Sleep overcame me, sleep, that bringeth oft
Tidings of future hap.  About the hour,
As I believe, when Venus from the east
First lighten'd on the mountain, she whose orb
Seems always glowing with the fire of love,
A lady young and beautiful, I dream'd,
Was passing o'er a lea; and, as she came,
Methought I saw her ever and anon
Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang:
"Know ye, whoever of my name would ask,
That I am Leah: for my brow to weave
A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply.
To please me at the crystal mirror, here
I deck me.  But my sister Rachel, she
Before her glass abides the livelong day,
Her radiant eyes beholding, charm'd no less,
Than I with this delightful task.  Her joy
In contemplation, as in labour mine."
     And now as glimm'ring dawn appear'd, that breaks
More welcome to the pilgrim still, as he
Sojourns less distant on his homeward way,
Darkness from all sides fled, and with it fled
My slumber; whence I rose and saw my guide
Already risen.  "That delicious fruit,
Which through so many a branch the zealous care
Of mortals roams in quest of, shall this day
Appease thy hunger."  Such the words I heard
From Virgil's lip; and never greeting heard
So pleasant as the sounds.  Within me straight
Desire so grew upon desire to mount,
Thenceforward at each step I felt the wings
Increasing for my flight.  When we had run
O'er all the ladder to its topmost round,
As there we stood, on me the Mantuan fix'd
His eyes, and thus he spake:  "Both fires, my son,
The temporal and eternal, thou hast seen,
And art arriv'd, where of itself my ken
No further reaches.  I with skill and art
Thus far have drawn thee.  Now thy pleasure take
For guide.  Thou hast o'ercome the steeper way,
O'ercome the straighter.  Lo!  the sun, that darts
His beam upon thy forehead!  lo! the herb,
The arboreta and flowers, which of itself
This land pours forth profuse!  Till those bright eyes
With gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste
To succour thee, thou mayst or seat thee down,
Or wander where thou wilt.  Expect no more
Sanction of warning voice or sign from me,
Free of thy own arbitrement to choose,
Discreet, judicious.  To distrust thy sense
Were henceforth error.  I invest thee then
With crown and mitre, sovereign o'er thyself."
CANTO XXVIII
Through that celestial forest, whose thick shade
With lively greenness the new-springing day
Attemper'd, eager now to roam, and search
Its limits round, forthwith I left the bank,
Along the champain leisurely my way
Pursuing, o'er the ground, that on all sides
Delicious odour breath'd.  A pleasant air,
That intermitted never, never veer'd,
Smote on my temples, gently, as a wind
Of softest influence: at which the sprays,
Obedient all, lean'd trembling to that part
Where first the holy mountain casts his shade,
Yet were not so disorder'd, but that still
Upon their top the feather'd quiristers
Applied their wonted art, and with full joy
Welcom'd those hours of prime, and warbled shrill
Amid the leaves, that to their jocund lays
inept tenor; even as from branch to branch,
Along the piney forests on the shore
Of Chiassi, rolls the gath'ring melody,
When Eolus hath from his cavern loos'd
The dripping south.  Already had my steps,
Though slow, so far into that ancient wood
Transported me, I could not ken the place
Where I had enter'd, when behold!  my path
Was bounded by a rill, which to the left
With little rippling waters bent the grass,
That issued from its brink.  On earth no wave
How clean soe'er, that would not seem to have
Some mixture in itself, compar'd with this,
Transpicuous, clear; yet darkly on it roll'd,
Darkly beneath perpetual gloom, which ne'er
Admits or sun or moon light there to shine.
     My feet advanc'd not; but my wond'ring eyes
Pass'd onward, o'er the streamlet, to survey
The tender May-bloom, flush'd through many a hue,
In prodigal variety: and there,
As object, rising suddenly to view,
That from our bosom every thought beside
With the rare marvel chases, I beheld
A lady all alone, who, singing, went,
And culling flower from flower, wherewith her way
Was all o'er painted.  "Lady beautiful!
Thou, who (if looks, that use to speak the heart,
Are worthy of our trust), with love's own beam
Dost warm thee," thus to her my speech I fram'd:
"Ah!  please thee hither towards the streamlet bend
Thy steps so near, that I may list thy song.
Beholding thee and this fair place, methinks,
I call to mind where wander'd and how look'd
Proserpine, in that season, when her child
The mother lost, and she the bloomy spring."
     As when a lady, turning in the dance,
Doth foot it featly, and advances scarce
One step before the other to the ground;
Over the yellow and vermilion flowers
Thus turn'd she at my suit, most maiden-like,
Valing her sober eyes, and came so near,
That I distinctly caught the dulcet sound.
Arriving where the limped waters now
Lav'd the green sward, her eyes she deign'd to raise,
That shot such splendour on me, as I ween
Ne'er glanced from Cytherea's, when her son
Had sped his keenest weapon to her heart.
Upon the opposite bank she stood and smil'd
through her graceful fingers shifted still
The intermingling dyes, which without seed
That lofty land unbosoms.  By the stream
Three paces only were we sunder'd: yet
The Hellespont, where Xerxes pass'd it o'er,
(A curb for ever to the pride of man)
Was by Leander not more hateful held
For floating, with inhospitable wave
'Twixt Sestus and Abydos, than by me
That flood, because it gave no passage thence.
     "Strangers ye come, and haply in this place,
That cradled human nature in its birth,
Wond'ring, ye not without suspicion view
My smiles: but that sweet strain of psalmody,
'Thou, Lord!  hast made me glad,' will give ye light,
Which may uncloud your minds.  And thou, who stand'st
The foremost, and didst make thy suit to me,
Say if aught else thou wish to hear: for I
Came prompt to answer every doubt of thine."
     She spake; and I replied:  "l know not how
To reconcile this wave and rustling sound
Of forest leaves, with what I late have heard
Of opposite report."  She answering thus:
"I will unfold the cause, whence that proceeds,
Which makes thee wonder; and so purge the cloud
That hath enwraps thee.  The First Good, whose joy
Is only in himself, created man
For happiness, and gave this goodly place,
His pledge and earnest of eternal peace.
Favour'd thus highly, through his own defect
He fell, and here made short sojourn; he fell,
And, for the bitterness of sorrow, chang'd
Laughter unblam'd and ever-new delight.
That vapours none, exhal'd from earth beneath,
Or from the waters (which, wherever heat
Attracts them, follow), might ascend thus far
To vex man's peaceful state, this mountain rose
So high toward the heav'n, nor fears the rage
0f elements contending, from that part
Exempted, where the gate his limit bars.
Because the circumambient air throughout
With its first impulse circles still, unless
Aught interpose to cheek or thwart its course;
Upon the summit, which on every side
To visitation of th' impassive air
Is open, doth that motion strike, and makes
Beneath its sway th' umbrageous wood resound:
And in the shaken plant such power resides,
That it impregnates with its efficacy
The voyaging breeze, upon whose subtle plume
That wafted flies abroad; and th' other land
Receiving (as 't is worthy in itself,
Or in the clime, that warms it), doth conceive,
And from its womb produces many a tree
Of various virtue.  This when thou hast heard,
The marvel ceases, if in yonder earth
Some plant without apparent seed be found
To fix its fibrous stem.  And further learn,
That with prolific foison of all seeds,
This holy plain is fill'd, and in itself
Bears fruit that ne'er was pluck'd on other soil.
 "The water, thou behold'st, springs not from vein,
As stream, that intermittently repairs
And spends his pulse of life, but issues forth
From fountain, solid, undecaying, sure;
And by the will omnific, full supply
Feeds whatsoe'er On either side it pours;
On this devolv'd with power to take away
Remembrance of offence, on that to bring
Remembrance back of every good deed done.
From whence its name of Lethe on this part;
On th' other Eunoe: both of which must first
Be tasted ere it work; the last exceeding
All flavours else.  Albeit thy thirst may now
Be well contented, if I here break off,
No more revealing: yet a corollary
I freely give beside: nor deem my words
Less grateful to thee, if they somewhat pass
The stretch of promise.  They, whose verse of yore
The golden age recorded and its bliss,
On the Parnassian mountain, of this place
Perhaps had dream'd.  Here was man guiltless, here
Perpetual spring and every fruit, and this
The far-fam'd nectar."  Turning to the bards,
When she had ceas'd, I noted in their looks
A smile at her conclusion; then my face
Again directed to the lovely dame.
Singing, as if enamour'd, she resum'd
And clos'd the song, with "Blessed they whose sins
Are cover'd."  Like the wood-nymphs then, that tripp'd
Singly across the sylvan shadows, one
Eager to view and one to 'scape the sun,
So mov'd she on, against the current, up
The verdant rivage.  I, her mincing step
Observing, with as tardy step pursued.
     Between us not an hundred paces trod,
The bank, on each side bending equally,
Gave me to face the orient.  Nor our way
Far onward brought us, when to me at once
She turn'd, and cried:  "My brother!  look and hearken."
And lo!  a sudden lustre ran across
Through the great forest on all parts, so bright
I doubted whether lightning were abroad;
But that expiring ever in the spleen,
That doth unfold it, and this during still
And waxing still in splendor, made me question
What it might be: and a sweet melody
Ran through the luminous air.  Then did I chide
With warrantable zeal the hardihood
Of our first parent, for that there were earth
Stood in obedience to the heav'ns, she only,
Woman, the creature of an hour, endur'd not
Restraint of any veil: which had she borne
Devoutly, joys, ineffable as these,
Had from the first, and long time since, been mine.
     While through that wilderness of primy sweets
That never fade, suspense I walk'd, and yet
Expectant of beatitude more high,
Before us, like a blazing fire, the air
Under the green boughs glow'd; and, for a song,
Distinct the sound of melody was heard.
     O ye thrice holy virgins!  for your sakes
If e'er I suffer'd hunger, cold and watching,
Occasion calls on me to crave your bounty.
Now through my breast let Helicon his stream
Pour copious; and Urania with her choir
Arise to aid me: while the verse unfolds
Things that do almost mock the grasp of thought.
     Onward a space, what seem'd seven trees of gold,
The intervening distance to mine eye
Falsely presented; but when I was come
So near them, that no lineament was lost
Of those, with which a doubtful object, seen
Remotely, plays on the misdeeming sense,
Then did the faculty, that ministers
Discourse to reason, these for tapers of gold
Distinguish, and it th' singing trace the sound
"Hosanna."  Above, their beauteous garniture
Flam'd with more ample lustre, than the moon
Through cloudless sky at midnight in her full.
     I turn'd me full of wonder to my guide;
And he did answer with a countenance
Charg'd with no less amazement: whence my view
Reverted to those lofty things, which came
So slowly moving towards us, that the bride
Would have outstript them on her bridal day.
     The lady called aloud:  "Why thus yet burns
Affection in thee for these living, lights,
And dost not look on that which follows them?"
     I straightway mark'd a tribe behind them walk,
As if attendant on their leaders, cloth'd
With raiment of such whiteness, as on earth
Was never.  On my left, the wat'ry gleam
Borrow'd, and gave me back, when there I look'd.
As in a mirror, my left side portray'd.
     When I had chosen on the river's edge
Such station, that the distance of the stream
Alone did separate me; there I stay'd
My steps for clearer prospect, and beheld
The flames go onward, leaving, as they went,
The air behind them painted as with trail
Of liveliest pencils!  so distinct were mark'd
All those sev'n listed colours, whence the sun
Maketh his bow, and Cynthia her zone.
These streaming gonfalons did flow beyond
My vision; and ten paces, as I guess,
Parted the outermost.  Beneath a sky
So beautiful, came foul and-twenty elders,
By two and two, with flower-de-luces crown'd.
All sang one song:  "Blessed be thou among
The daughters of Adam!  and thy loveliness
Blessed for ever!"  After that the flowers,
And the fresh herblets, on the opposite brink,
Were free from that elected race; as light
In heav'n doth second light, came after them
Four animals, each crown'd with verdurous leaf.
With six wings each was plum'd, the plumage full
Of eyes, and th' eyes of Argus would be such,
Were they endued with life.  Reader, more rhymes
Will not waste in shadowing forth their form:
For other need no straitens, that in this
I may not give my bounty room.  But read
Ezekiel; for he paints them, from the north
How he beheld them come by Chebar's flood,
In whirlwind, cloud and fire; and even such
As thou shalt find them character'd by him,
Here were they; save as to the pennons; there,
From him departing, John accords with me.
     The space, surrounded by the four, enclos'd
A car triumphal: on two wheels it came
Drawn at a Gryphon's neck; and he above
Stretch'd either wing uplifted, 'tween the midst
And the three listed hues, on each side three;
So that the wings did cleave or injure none;
And out of sight they rose.  The members, far
As he was bird, were golden; white the rest
With vermeil intervein'd.  So beautiful
A car in Rome ne'er grac'd Augustus pomp,
Or Africanus': e'en the sun's itself
Were poor to this, that chariot of the sun
Erroneous, which in blazing ruin fell
At Tellus' pray'r devout, by the just doom
Mysterious of all-seeing Jove.  Three nymphs
,k the right wheel, came circling in smooth dance;
The one so ruddy, that her form had scarce
Been known within a furnace of clear flame:
The next did look, as if the flesh and bones
Were emerald: snow new-fallen seem'd the third.
Now seem'd the white to lead, the ruddy now;
And from her song who led, the others took
Their treasure, swift or slow.  At th' other wheel,
A band quaternion, each in purple clad,
Advanc'd with festal step, as of them one
The rest conducted, one, upon whose front
Three eyes were seen.  In rear of all this group,
Two old men I beheld, dissimilar
In raiment, but in port and gesture like,
Solid and mainly grave; of whom the one
Did show himself some favour'd counsellor
Of the great Coan, him, whom nature made
To serve the costliest creature of her tribe.
His fellow mark'd an opposite intent,
Bearing a sword, whose glitterance and keen edge,
E'en as I view'd it with the flood between,
Appall'd me.  Next four others I beheld,
Of humble seeming: and, behind them all,
One single old man, sleeping, as he came,
With a shrewd visage.  And these seven, each
Like the first troop were habited, hut wore
No braid of lilies on their temples wreath'd.
Rather with roses and each vermeil flower,
A sight, but little distant, might have sworn,
That they were all on fire above their brow.
     Whenas the car was o'er against me, straight.
Was heard a thund'ring, at whose voice it seem'd
The chosen multitude were stay'd; for there,
With the first ensigns, made they solemn halt.
Soon as the polar light, which never knows
Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil
Of other cloud than sin, fair ornament
Of the first heav'n, to duty each one there
Safely convoying, as that lower doth
The steersman to his port, stood firmly fix'd;
Forthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van
Between the Gryphon and its radiance came,
Did turn them to the car, as to their rest:
And one, as if commission'd from above,
In holy chant thrice shorted forth aloud:
"Come, spouse, from Libanus!" and all the rest
Took up the song--At the last audit so
The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each
Uplifting lightly his new-vested flesh,
As, on the sacred litter, at the voice
Authoritative of that elder, sprang
A hundred ministers and messengers
Of life eternal.  "Blessed thou!  who com'st!"
And, "O," they cried, "from full hands scatter ye
Unwith'ring lilies;" and, so saying, cast
Flowers over head and round them on all sides.
     I have beheld, ere now, at break of day,
The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky
Oppos'd, one deep and beautiful serene,
And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists
Attemper'd at lids rising, that the eye
Long while endur'd the sight: thus in a cloud
Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose,
And down, within and outside of the car,
Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreath'd,
A virgin in my view appear'd, beneath
Green mantle, rob'd in hue of living flame:
And o'er my Spirit, that in former days
Within her presence had abode so long,
No shudd'ring terror crept.  Mine eyes no more
Had knowledge of her; yet there mov'd from her
A hidden virtue, at whose touch awak'd,
The power of ancient love was strong within me.
     No sooner on my vision streaming, smote
The heav'nly influence, which years past, and e'en
In childhood, thrill'd me, than towards Virgil I
Turn'd me to leftward, panting, like a babe,
That flees for refuge to his mother's breast,
If aught have terrified or work'd him woe:
And would have cried:  "There is no dram of blood,
That doth not quiver in me.  The old flame
Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire:"
But Virgil had bereav'd us of himself,
Virgil, my best-lov'd father; Virgil, he
To whom I gave me up for safety: nor,
All, our prime mother lost, avail'd to save
My undew'd cheeks from blur of soiling tears.
     "Dante, weep not, that Virgil leaves thee: nay,
Weep thou not yet: behooves thee feel the edge
Of other sword, and thou shalt weep for that."
     As to the prow or stern, some admiral
Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew,
When 'mid the sail-yards all hands ply aloof;
Thus on the left side of the car I saw,
(Turning me at the sound of mine own name,
Which here I am compell'd to register)
The virgin station'd, who before appeared
Veil'd in that festive shower angelical.
     Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;
Though from her brow the veil descending, bound
With foliage of Minerva, suffer'd not
That I beheld her clearly; then with act
Full royal, still insulting o'er her thrall,
Added, as one, who speaking keepeth back
The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:
"Observe me well.  I am, in sooth, I am
Beatrice.  What!  and hast thou deign'd at last
Approach the mountain?  knewest not, O man!
Thy happiness is whole?"  Down fell mine eyes
On the clear fount, but there, myself espying,
Recoil'd, and sought the greensward: such a weight
Of shame was on my forehead.  With a mien
Of that stern majesty, which doth surround
mother's presence to her awe-struck child,
She look'd; a flavour of such bitterness
Was mingled in her pity.  There her words
Brake off, and suddenly the angels sang:
"In thee, O gracious Lord, my hope hath been:"
But went no farther than, "Thou Lord, hast set
My feet in ample room."  As snow, that lies
Amidst the living rafters on the back
Of Italy congeal'd when drifted high
And closely pil'd by rough Sclavonian blasts,
Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,
And straightway melting it distils away,
Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I,
Without a sigh or tear, or ever these
Did sing, that with the chiming of heav'n's sphere,
Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain
Of dulcet symphony, express'd for me
Their soft compassion, more than could the words
"Virgin, why so consum'st him?"  then the ice,
Congeal'd about my bosom, turn'd itself
To spirit and water, and with anguish forth
Gush'd through the lips and eyelids from the heart.
     Upon the chariot's right edge still she stood,
Immovable, and thus address'd her words
To those bright semblances with pity touch'd:
"Ye in th' eternal day your vigils keep,
So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth,
Conveys from you a single step in all
The goings on of life: thence with more heed
I shape mine answer, for his ear intended,
Who there stands weeping, that the sorrow now
May equal the transgression.  Not alone
Through operation of the mighty orbs,
That mark each seed to some predestin'd aim,
As with aspect or fortunate or ill
The constellations meet, but through benign
Largess of heav'nly graces, which rain down
From such a height, as mocks our vision, this man
Was in the freshness of his being, such,
So gifted virtually, that in him
All better habits wond'rously had thriv'd.
The more of kindly strength is in the soil,
So much doth evil seed and lack of culture
Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.
These looks sometime upheld him; for I show'd
My youthful eyes, and led him by their light
In upright walking.  Soon as I had reach'd
The threshold of my second age, and chang'd
My mortal for immortal, then he left me,
And gave himself to others.  When from flesh
To spirit I had risen, and increase
Of beauty and of virtue circled me,
I was less dear to him, and valued less.
His steps were turn'd into deceitful ways,
Following false images of good, that make
No promise perfect.  Nor avail'd me aught
To sue for inspirations, with the which,
I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise,
Did call him back; of them so little reck'd him,
Such depth he fell, that all device was short
Of his preserving, save that he should view
The children of perdition.  To this end
I visited the purlieus of the dead:
And one, who hath conducted him thus high,
Receiv'd my supplications urg'd with weeping.
It were a breaking of God's high decree,
If Lethe should be past, and such food tasted
Without the cost of some repentant tear."
"O Thou!"  her words she thus without delay
Resuming, turn'd their point on me, to whom
They but with lateral edge seem'd harsh before,
'Say thou, who stand'st beyond the holy stream,
If this be true.  A charge so grievous needs
Thine own avowal."  On my faculty
Such strange amazement hung, the voice expir'd
Imperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.
     A little space refraining, then she spake:
"What dost thou muse on?  Answer me.  The wave
On thy remembrances of evil yet
Hath done no injury."  A mingled sense
Of fear and of confusion, from my lips
Did such a "Yea " produce, as needed help
Of vision to interpret.  As when breaks
In act to be discharg'd, a cross-bow bent
Beyond its pitch, both nerve and bow o'erstretch'd,
The flagging weapon feebly hits the mark;
Thus, tears and sighs forth gushing, did I burst
Beneath the heavy load, and thus my voice
Was slacken'd on its way.  She straight began:
"When my desire invited thee to love
The good, which sets a bound to our aspirings,
What bar of thwarting foss or linked chain
Did meet thee, that thou so should'st quit the hope
Of further progress, or what bait of ease
Or promise of allurement led thee on
Elsewhere, that thou elsewhere should'st rather wait?"
     A bitter sigh I drew, then scarce found voice
To answer, hardly to these sounds my lips
Gave utterance, wailing:  "Thy fair looks withdrawn,
Things present, with deceitful pleasures, turn'd
My steps aside."  She answering spake:  "Hadst thou
Been silent, or denied what thou avow'st,
Thou hadst not hid thy sin the more: such eye
Observes it.  But whene'er the sinner's cheek
Breaks forth into the precious-streaming tears
Of self-accusing, in our court the wheel
Of justice doth run counter to the edge.
Howe'er that thou may'st profit by thy shame
For errors past, and that henceforth more strength
May arm thee, when thou hear'st the Siren-voice,
Lay thou aside the motive to this grief,
And lend attentive ear, while I unfold
How opposite a way my buried flesh
Should have impell'd thee.  Never didst thou spy
In art or nature aught so passing sweet,
As were the limbs, that in their beauteous frame
Enclos'd me, and are scatter'd now in dust.
If sweetest thing thus fail'd thee with my death,
What, afterward, of mortal should thy wish
Have tempted?  When thou first hadst felt the dart
Of perishable things, in my departing
For better realms, thy wing thou should'st have prun'd
To follow me, and never stoop'd again
To 'bide a second blow for a slight girl,
Or other gaud as transient and as vain.
The new and inexperienc'd bird awaits,
Twice it may be, or thrice, the fowler's aim;
But in the sight of one, whose plumes are full,
In vain the net is spread, the arrow wing'd."
     I stood, as children silent and asham'd
Stand, list'ning, with their eyes upon the earth,
Acknowledging their fault and self-condemn'd.
And she resum'd:  "If, but to hear thus pains thee,
Raise thou thy beard, and lo!  what sight shall do!"
     With less reluctance yields a sturdy holm,
Rent from its fibers by a blast, that blows
From off the pole, or from Iarbas' land,
Than I at her behest my visage rais'd:
And thus the face denoting by the beard,
I mark'd the secret sting her words convey'd.
     No sooner lifted I mine aspect up,
Than downward sunk that vision I beheld
Of goodly creatures vanish; and mine eyes
Yet unassur'd and wavering, bent their light
On Beatrice.  Towards the animal,
Who joins two natures in one form, she turn'd,
And, even under shadow of her veil,
And parted by the verdant rill, that flow'd
Between, in loveliness appear'd as much
Her former self surpassing, as on earth
All others she surpass'd.  Remorseful goads
Shot sudden through me.  Each thing else, the more
Its love had late beguil'd me, now the more
I Was loathsome.  On my heart so keenly smote
The bitter consciousness, that on the ground
O'erpower'd I fell: and what my state was then,
She knows who was the cause.  When now my strength
Flow'd back, returning outward from the heart,
The lady, whom alone I first had seen,
I found above me.  "Loose me not," she cried:
"Loose not thy hold;" and lo!  had dragg'd me high
As to my neck into the stream, while she,
Still as she drew me after, swept along,
Swift as a shuttle, bounding o'er the wave.
     The blessed shore approaching then was heard
So sweetly, "Tu asperges me," that I
May not remember, much less tell the sound.
The beauteous dame, her arms expanding, clasp'd
My temples, and immerg'd me, where 't was fit
The wave should drench me: and thence raising up,
Within the fourfold dance of lovely nymphs
Presented me so lav'd, and with their arm
They each did cover me.  "Here are we nymphs,
And in the heav'n are stars.  Or ever earth
Was visited of Beatrice, we
Appointed for her handmaids, tended on her.
We to her eyes will lead thee; but the light
Of gladness that is in them, well to scan,
Those yonder three, of deeper ken than ours,
Thy sight shall quicken."  Thus began their song;
And then they led me to the Gryphon's breast,
While, turn'd toward us, Beatrice stood.
"Spare not thy vision.  We have stationed thee
Before the emeralds, whence love erewhile
Hath drawn his weapons on thee.  "As they spake,
A thousand fervent wishes riveted
Mine eyes upon her beaming eyes, that stood
Still fix'd toward the Gryphon motionless.
As the sun strikes a mirror, even thus
Within those orbs the twofold being, shone,
For ever varying, in one figure now
Reflected, now in other.  Reader!  muse
How wond'rous in my sight it seem'd to mark
A thing, albeit steadfast in itself,
Yet in its imag'd semblance mutable.
     Full of amaze, and joyous, while my soul
Fed on the viand, whereof still desire
Grows with satiety, the other three
With gesture, that declar'd a loftier line,
Advanc'd: to their own carol on they came
Dancing in festive ring angelical.
     "Turn, Beatrice!" was their song:  "O turn
Thy saintly sight on this thy faithful one,
Who to behold thee many a wearisome pace
Hath measur'd.  Gracious at our pray'r vouchsafe
Unveil to him thy cheeks: that he may mark
Thy second beauty, now conceal'd."  O splendour!
O sacred light eternal!  who is he
So pale with musing in Pierian shades,
Or with that fount so lavishly imbued,
Whose spirit should not fail him in th' essay
To represent thee such as thou didst seem,
When under cope of the still-chiming heaven
Thou gav'st to open air thy charms reveal'd.
Mine eyes with such an eager coveting,
Were bent to rid them of their ten years' thirst,
No other sense was waking: and e'en they
Were fenc'd on either side from heed of aught;
So tangled in its custom'd toils that smile
Of saintly brightness drew me to itself,
When forcibly toward the left my sight
The sacred virgins turn'd; for from their lips
I heard the warning sounds:  "Too fix'd a gaze!"
     Awhile my vision labor'd; as when late
Upon the' o'erstrained eyes the sun hath smote:
But soon to lesser object, as the view
Was now recover'd (lesser in respect
To that excess of sensible, whence late
I had perforce been sunder'd) on their right
I mark'd that glorious army wheel, and turn,
Against the sun and sev'nfold lights, their front.
As when, their bucklers for protection rais'd,
A well-rang'd troop, with portly banners curl'd,
Wheel circling, ere the whole can change their ground:
E'en thus the goodly regiment of heav'n
Proceeding, all did pass us, ere the car
Had slop'd his beam.  Attendant at the wheels
The damsels turn'd; and on the Gryphon mov'd
The sacred burden, with a pace so smooth,
No feather on him trembled.  The fair dame
Who through the wave had drawn me, companied
By Statius and myself, pursued the wheel,
Whose orbit, rolling, mark'd a lesser arch.
     Through the high wood, now void (the more her blame,
Who by the serpent was beguil'd) I past
With step in cadence to the harmony
Angelic.  Onward had we mov'd, as far
Perchance as arrow at three several flights
Full wing'd had sped, when from her station down
Descended Beatrice.  With one voice
All murmur'd  "Adam," circling next a plant
Despoil'd of flowers and leaf on every bough.
Its tresses, spreading more as more they rose,
Were such, as 'midst their forest wilds for height
The Indians might have gaz'd at.  "Blessed thou!
Gryphon, whose beak hath never pluck'd that tree
Pleasant to taste: for hence the appetite
Was warp'd to evil."  Round the stately trunk
Thus shouted forth the rest, to whom return'd
The animal twice-gender'd:  "Yea: for so
The generation of the just are sav'd."
And turning to the chariot-pole, to foot
He drew it of the widow'd branch, and bound
There left unto the stock whereon it grew.
     As when large floods of radiance from above
Stream, with that radiance mingled, which ascends
Next after setting of the scaly sign,
Our plants then burgeon, and each wears anew
His wonted colours, ere the sun have yok'd
Beneath another star his flamy steeds;
Thus putting forth a hue, more faint than rose,
And deeper than the violet, was renew'd
The plant, erewhile in all its branches bare.
     Unearthly was the hymn, which then arose.
I understood it not, nor to the end
Endur'd the harmony.  Had I the skill
To pencil forth, how clos'd th' unpitying eyes
Slumb'ring, when Syrinx warbled, (eyes that paid
So dearly for their watching,) then like painter,
That with a model paints, I might design
The manner of my falling into sleep.
But feign who will the slumber cunningly;
I pass it by to when I wak'd, and tell
How suddenly a flash of splendour rent
The curtain of my sleep, and one cries out:
"Arise, what dost thou?"  As the chosen three,
On Tabor's mount, admitted to behold
The blossoming of that fair tree, whose fruit
Is coveted of angels, and doth make
Perpetual feast in heaven, to themselves
Returning at the word, whence deeper sleeps
Were broken, that they their tribe diminish'd saw,
Both Moses and Elias gone, and chang'd
The stole their master wore: thus to myself
Returning, over me beheld I stand
The piteous one, who cross the stream had brought
My steps.  "And where," all doubting, I exclaim'd,
"Is Beatrice?"--"See her," she replied,
"Beneath the fresh leaf seated on its root.
Behold th' associate choir that circles her.
The others, with a melody more sweet
And more profound, journeying to higher realms,
Upon the Gryphon tend."  If there her words
Were clos'd, I know not; but mine eyes had now
Ta'en view of her, by whom all other thoughts
Were barr'd admittance.  On the very ground
Alone she sat, as she had there been left
A guard upon the wain, which I beheld
Bound to the twyform beast.  The seven nymphs
Did make themselves a cloister round about her,
And in their hands upheld those lights secure
From blast septentrion and the gusty south.
     "A little while thou shalt be forester here:
And citizen shalt be forever with me,
Of that true Rome, wherein Christ dwells a Roman
To profit the misguided world, keep now
Thine eyes upon the car; and what thou seest,
Take heed thou write, returning to that place."
     Thus Beatrice: at whose feet inclin'd
Devout, at her behest, my thought and eyes,
I, as she bade, directed.  Never fire,
With so swift motion, forth a stormy cloud
Leap'd downward from the welkin's farthest bound,
As I beheld the bird of Jove descending
Pounce on the tree, and, as he rush'd, the rind,
Disparting crush beneath him, buds much more
And leaflets.  On the car with all his might
He struck, whence, staggering like a ship, it reel'd,
At random driv'n, to starboard now, o'ercome,
And now to larboard, by the vaulting waves.
     Next springing up into the chariot's womb
A fox I saw, with hunger seeming pin'd
Of all good food.  But, for his ugly sins
The saintly maid rebuking him, away
Scamp'ring he turn'd, fast as his hide-bound corpse
Would bear him.  Next, from whence before he came,
I saw the eagle dart into the hull
O' th' car, and leave it with his feathers lin'd;
And then a voice, like that which issues forth
From heart with sorrow riv'd, did issue forth
From heav'n, and, "O poor bark of mine!" it cried,
"How badly art thou freighted!"  Then, it seem'd,
That the earth open'd between either wheel,
And I beheld a dragon issue thence,
That through the chariot fix'd his forked train;
And like a wasp that draggeth back the sting,
So drawing forth his baleful train, he dragg'd
Part of the bottom forth, and went his way
Exulting.  What remain'd, as lively turf
With green herb, so did clothe itself with plumes,
Which haply had with purpose chaste and kind
Been offer'd; and therewith were cloth'd the wheels,
Both one and other, and the beam, so quickly
A sigh were not breath'd sooner.  Thus transform'd,
The holy structure, through its several parts,
Did put forth heads, three on the beam, and one
On every side; the first like oxen horn'd,
But with a single horn upon their front
The four.  Like monster sight hath never seen.
O'er it methought there sat, secure as rock
On mountain's lofty top, a shameless whore,
Whose ken rov'd loosely round her.  At her side,
As 't were that none might bear her off, I saw
A giant stand; and ever, and anon
They mingled kisses.  But, her lustful eyes
Chancing on me to wander, that fell minion
Scourg'd her from head to foot all o'er; then full
Of jealousy, and fierce with rage, unloos'd
The monster, and dragg'd on, so far across
The forest, that from me its shades alone
Shielded the harlot and the new-form'd brute.
CANTO XXXIII
"The heathen, Lord!  are come!" responsive thus,
The trinal now, and now the virgin band
Quaternion, their sweet psalmody began,
Weeping; and Beatrice listen'd, sad
And sighing, to the song', in such a mood,
That Mary, as she stood beside the cross,
Was scarce more chang'd.  But when they gave her place
To speak, then, risen upright on her feet,
She, with a colour glowing bright as fire,
Did answer: "Yet a little while, and ye
Shall see me not; and, my beloved sisters,
Again a little while, and ye shall see me."
     Before her then she marshall'd all the seven,
And, beck'ning only motion'd me, the dame,
And that remaining sage, to follow her.
     So on she pass'd; and had not set, I ween,
Her tenth step to the ground, when with mine eyes
Her eyes encounter'd; and, with visage mild,
"So mend thy pace," she cried, "that if my words
Address thee, thou mayst still be aptly plac'd
To hear them."  Soon as duly to her side
I now had hasten'd:  "Brother!" she began,
"Why mak'st thou no attempt at questioning,
As thus we walk together?"  Like to those
Who, speaking with too reverent an awe
Before their betters, draw not forth the voice
Alive unto their lips, befell me shell
That I in sounds imperfect thus began:
"Lady!  what I have need of, that thou know'st,
And what will suit my need."  She answering thus:
"Of fearfulness and shame, I will, that thou
Henceforth do rid thee: that thou speak no more,
As one who dreams.  Thus far be taught of me:
The vessel, which thou saw'st the serpent break,
Was and is not: let him, who hath the blame,
Hope not to scare God's vengeance with a sop.
Without an heir for ever shall not be
That eagle, he, who left the chariot plum'd,
Which monster made it first and next a prey.
Plainly I view, and therefore speak, the stars
E'en now approaching, whose conjunction, free
From all impediment and bar, brings on
A season, in the which, one sent from God,
(Five hundred, five, and ten, do mark him out)
That foul one, and th' accomplice of her guilt,
The giant, both shall slay.  And if perchance
My saying, dark as Themis or as Sphinx,
Fail to persuade thee, (since like them it foils
The intellect with blindness) yet ere long
Events shall be the Naiads, that will solve
This knotty riddle, and no damage light
On flock or field.  Take heed; and as these words
By me are utter'd, teach them even so
To those who live that life, which is a race
To death: and when thou writ'st them, keep in mind
Not to conceal how thou hast seen the plant,
That twice hath now been spoil'd.  This whoso robs,
This whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed
Sins against God, who for his use alone
Creating hallow'd it.  For taste of this,
In pain and in desire, five thousand years
And upward, the first soul did yearn for him,
Who punish'd in himself the fatal gust.
     "Thy reason slumbers, if it deem this height
And summit thus inverted of the plant,
Without due cause: and were not vainer thoughts,
As Elsa's numbing waters, to thy soul,
And their fond pleasures had not dyed it dark
As Pyramus the mulberry, thou hadst seen,
In such momentous circumstance alone,
God's equal justice morally implied
In the forbidden tree.  But since I mark thee
In understanding harden'd into stone,
And, to that hardness, spotted too and stain'd,
So that thine eye is dazzled at my word,
I will, that, if not written, yet at least
Painted thou take it in thee, for the cause,
That one brings home his staff inwreath'd with palm.
     "I thus:  "As wax by seal, that changeth not
Its impress, now is stamp'd my brain by thee.
But wherefore soars thy wish'd-for speech so high
Beyond my sight, that loses it the more,
The more it strains to reach it?" --"To the end
That thou mayst know," she answer'd straight, "the school,
That thou hast follow'd; and how far behind,
When following my discourse, its learning halts:
And mayst behold your art, from the divine
As distant, as the disagreement is
'Twixt earth and heaven's most high and rapturous orb."
     "I not remember," I replied, "that e'er
I was estrang'd from thee, nor for such fault
Doth conscience chide me."  Smiling she return'd:
"If thou canst, not remember, call to mind
How lately thou hast drunk of Lethe's wave;
And, sure as smoke doth indicate a flame,
In that forgetfulness itself conclude
Blame from thy alienated will incurr'd.
From henceforth verily my words shall be
As naked as will suit them to appear
In thy unpractis'd view."  More sparkling now,
And with retarded course the sun possess'd
The circle of mid-day, that varies still
As th' aspect varies of each several clime,
When, as one, sent in vaward of a troop
For escort, pauses, if perchance he spy
Vestige of somewhat strange and rare: so paus'd
The sev'nfold band, arriving at the verge
Of a dun umbrage hoar, such as is seen,
Beneath green leaves and gloomy branches, oft
To overbrow a bleak and alpine cliff.
And, where they stood, before them, as it seem'd,
Tigris and Euphrates both beheld,
Forth from one fountain issue; and, like friends,
Linger at parting. "O enlight'ning beam!
O glory of our kind!  beseech thee say
What water this, which from one source deriv'd
Itself removes to distance from itself?"
     To such entreaty answer thus was made:
"Entreat Matilda, that she teach thee this."
     And here, as one, who clears himself of blame
Imputed, the fair dame return'd:  "Of me
He this and more hath learnt; and I am safe
That Lethe's water hath not hid it from him."
     And Beatrice:  "Some more pressing care
That oft the memory 'reeves, perchance hath made
His mind's eye dark.  But lo!  where Eunoe cows!
Lead thither; and, as thou art wont, revive
His fainting virtue."  As a courteous spirit,
That proffers no excuses, but as soon
As he hath token of another's will,
Makes it his own; when she had ta'en me, thus
The lovely maiden mov'd her on, and call'd
To Statius with an air most lady-like:
"Come thou with him."  Were further space allow'd,
Then, Reader, might I sing, though but in part,
That beverage, with whose sweetness I had ne'er
Been sated.  But, since all the leaves are full,
Appointed for this second strain, mine art
With warning bridle checks me.  I return'd
From the most holy wave, regenerate,
If 'en as new plants renew'd with foliage new,
Pure and made apt for mounting to the stars.
NOTES TO PURGATORY
Verse 1.  O'er better waves.]  Berni, Orl. Inn. L 2. c. i.
Per correr maggior acqua alza le vele,
O debil navicella del mio ingegno.
v. 11.  Birds of chattering note.]  For the fable of the
daughters of Pierus, who challenged the muses to sing, and were
changed into magpies, see Ovid, Met. 1. v. fab. 5.
v. 19.  Planet.]  Venus.
v. 20.  Made all the orient laugh.]  Hence Chaucer, Knight's
Tale: And all the orisont laugheth of the sight.
It is sometimes read "orient."
v. 24.  Four stars.]  Symbolical of the four cardinal virtues,
Prudence Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance.  See Canto XXXI v.
v. 30.  The wain.]  Charles's wain, or Bootes.
v. 31.  An old man.]  Cato.
v. 92.  Venerable plumes.]  The same metaphor has occurred in
Hell Canto XX.  v. 41:
--the plumes,
That mark'd the better sex.
It is used by Ford in the Lady's Trial, a. 4. s. 2.
Now the down
Of softness is exchang'd for plumes of age.
v. 58.  The farthest gloom.]  L'ultima sera. Ariosto, Oroando
Furioso c. xxxiv st. 59:
Che non hen visto ancor l'ultima sera.
And Filicaja, c. ix. Al Sonno.
L'ultima sera.
v. 79.  Marcia.]
Da fredera prisci
Illibata tori: da tantum nomen inane
Connubil: liceat tumulo scripsisse, Catonis
Lucan, Phars. 1. ii. 344.
v. 110.  I spy'd the trembling of the ocean stream.]
Connubil il tremolar della marina.
Trissino, in the Sofonisba.]
E resta in tremolar l'onda marina
And Fortiguerra, Rleelardetto, c. ix. st. 17.
--visto il tremolar della marine.
v.  135.  another.]  From Virg, Aen. 1. vi. 143.
Primo avulso non deficit alter
v. 1.  Now had the sun.]  Dante was now antipodal to Jerusalem,
so that while the sun was setting with respect to that place
which he supposes to be the middle of the inhabited earth, to him
it was rising.
v. 6.  The scales.]  The constellation Libra.
v. 35.  Winnowing the air.]
Trattando l'acre con l'eterne penne.
80 Filicaja, canz. viii. st. 11.
Ma trattar l'acre coll' eterne plume
v. 45.  In exitu.]  "When Israel came out of Egypt."  Ps.  cxiv.
v. 75.  Thrice my hands.]
Ter conatus ibi eollo dare brachia eircum,
Ter frustra eomprensa manus effugit imago,
Par levibus ventis voluerique simillima sommo.
Virg.  Aen.  ii.  794.
Compare Homer, Od.  xl.  205.
v. 88.  My Casella.]  A Florentine, celebrated for his skill in
music, "in whose company," says Landine, "Dante often recreated
his spirits wearied by severe studies." See Dr. Burney's History
of Music, vol. ii. c. iv. p. 322.  Milton has a fine allusion to
this meeting in his sonnet to Henry Lawes.
v. 90.  Hath so much time been lost.]  Casella had been dead some
years but was only just arrived.
v. 91.  He.]  The eonducting angel.
v. 94.  These three months past.]  Since the time of the Jubilee,
during which all spirits not condemned to eternal punishment,
were supposed to pass over to Purgatory as soon as they pleased.
v. 96.  The shore.]  Ostia.
v. 170.  "Love that discourses in my thoughts."]
"Amor che nella mente mi ragiona."
The first verse of a eanzone or song in the Convito of Dante,
which he again cites in his Treatise de Vulg.  Eloq. 1. ii. c.
v.  9.  How doth a little failing wound thee sore.]
(Ch'era al cor picciol fallo amaro morso.
Tasso, G. L. c.  x. st. 59.
v. 11.  Haste, that mars all decency of act. Aristotle in his
Physiog iii.  reekons it among the "the signs of an impudent
man," that he is "quick in his motions."  Compare Sophoeles,
Electra, 878.
v. 26.  To Naples.]
Virgil died at Brundusium, from whence his body is said to have
been removed to Naples.
v. 38.  Desiring fruitlessly.]  See H. Canto IV, 39.
v. 49.  'Twixt Lerice and Turbia.]  At that time the two
extremities of the Genoese republic, the former on the east, the
latter on the  west. A very ingenious writer has had occasion,
for a different purpose, to mention one of these places as
remarkably secluded by its mountainous situation "On an eminence
among the mountains, between the two little cities, Nice and
Manoca, is the village of Torbia, a name formed from the Greek
[GREEK HERE] Mitford on the Harmony of Language, sect. x. p. 351.
v. 78.  As sheep.]  The imitative nature of these animals
supplies our Poet with another comparison in his Convito Opere,
t. i. p 34. Ediz. Ven. 1793.
v. 110.  Manfredi.  King of Naples and Sicily, and the natural
son of Frederick II. He was lively end agreeable in his manners,
and delighted in poetry, music, and dancing. But he was luxurious
and ambitious. Void of religion, and in his philosophy an
Epicurean. See G. Villani l. vi. c. xlvii. and Mr. Matthias's
Tiraboschi, v. I. p. 38. He fell in the battle with Charles of
Anjou in 1265, alluded to in Canto  XXVIII, of Hell, v. 13,
"Dying, excommunicated, King Charles did allow of his being
buried in sacred ground, but he was interred near the bridge of
Benevento, and on his grave there was cast a stone by every one
of the army whence there was formed a great mound of stones. But
some ave said, that afterwards, by command of the Pope. the
Bishop of Cosenza took up his body and sent it out of the
kingdom, because it was the land of the church, and that it was
buried by the river Verde, on the borders of the kingdom and of
Carapagna. this, however, we do not affirm."  G. Villani, Hist.
l. vii.  c. 9.
v. 111.  Costanza.]  See Paradise Canto III.  v. 121.
v. 112.  My fair daughter.]  Costanza, the daughter of Manfredi,
and wife of Peter III.  King of Arragon, by whom she was mother
to  Frederick, King of Sicily and James, King of Arragon With the
latter of these she was at Rome 1296. See G. Villani, 1. viii. c.
18. and notes to Canto VII.
v. 122.  Clement.]  Pope Clement IV.
v. 127.  The stream of Verde.]  A river near Ascoli, that falls
into he Toronto. The "xtinguished lights " formed part of the
ceremony t the interment of one excommunicated.
v. 130.  Hope.]
Mentre che la speranza ha fior del verde.
Tasso, G. L. c. xix. st. 53.
--infin che verde e fior di speme.
v. 1.  When.] It must be owned the beginning of this Canto is
somewhat obscure. Bellutello refers, for an elucidation of it, to
the reasoning of Statius in the twenty-fifth canto. Perhaps some
illustration may be derived from the following, passage in
South's Sermons, in which I have ventured to supply the words
between crotchets that seemed to be wanting to complete
the sense. Now whether these three, judgement memory, and
invention, are three distinct things, both in being distinguished
from one another, and likewise from the substance of the soul
itself, considered without any such faculties, (or whether the
soul be one individual substance) but only receiving these
several denominations rom the several respects arising from the
several actions exerted immediately by itself upon several
objects, or several qualities of the same object, I say whether
of these it is, is not easy to decide, and it is well that it is
not necessary Aquinas, and most with him, affirm the former, and
Scotus with his followers the latter." Vol. iv. Serm. 1.
v. 23.  Sanleo.]  A fortress on the summit of Montefeltro.
v. 24.  Noli.]  In the Genoese territory, between Finale and
v. 25.  Bismantua.]  A steep mountain in the territory of Reggio.
v. 55.  From the left.]  Vellutello observes an imitation of
Lucan in this passage:
Ignotum vobis, Arabes, venistis in orbem,
Umbras mirati nemornm non ire sinistras.
Phars.  s. 1.  iii. 248
v. 69 Thou wilt see.]  "If you consider that this mountain of
Purgatory and that of Sion are antipodal to each other, you will
perceive that the sun must rise on opposite sides of the
respective eminences."
v. 119.  Belacqua.]  Concerning this man, the commentators afford
no information.
v. 14.  Be as a tower.]  Sta  ome torre ferma
Berni, Orl.  Inn. 1. 1. c. xvi. st. 48:
In quei due piedi sta fermo il gigante
Com' una torre in mezzo d'un castello.
And Milton, P. L. b. i.  591.
Stood like a tower.
v. 36.  Ne'er saw I fiery vapours.]  Imitated by Tasso, G. L, c.
Tal suol fendendo liquido sereno
Stella cader della gran madre in seno.
And by Milton, P. L. b. iv. 558:
Swift as a shooting star
In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fir'd
Impress the air.
v. 67.  That land.]  The Marca d'Ancona, between Romagna and
Apulia, the kingdom of Charles of Anjou.
v. 76.  From thence I came.]  Giacopo del Cassero, a citizen of
Fano who having spoken ill of Azzo da Este, Marquis of Ferrara,
was by his orders put to death.  Giacopo, was overtaken by the
assassins at Oriaco a place near the Brenta, from whence, if he
had fled towards Mira, higher up on that river, instead of making
for the marsh on the sea shore, he might have escaped.
v. 75.  Antenor's land.]  The city of Padua, said to be founded
v. 87.  Of Montefeltro I.]  Buonconte (son of Guido da
Montefeltro, whom we have had in the twenty-seventh Canto of
Hell) fell in the battle of Campaldino (1289), fighting on the
side of the Aretini.
v. 88.  Giovanna.]  Either the wife, or kinswoman, of Buonconte.
v. 91.  The hermit's seat.]  The hermitage of Camaldoli.
v. 95.  Where its name is cancel'd.]  That is, between Bibbiena
and Poppi, where the Archiano falls into the Arno.
v. 115.  From Pratomagno to the mountain range.]  From Pratomagno
now called Prato Vecchio (which divides the Valdarno from
Casentino) as far as to the Apennine.
v. 131.  Pia.] She is said to have been a Siennese lady, of the
family of Tolommei, secretly made away with by her husband, Nello
della Pietra, of the same city, in Maremma, where he had some
possessions.
v. 14.  Of Arezzo him.]  Benincasa of Arezzo, eminent for his
skill in jurisprudence, who, having condemned to death Turrino da
Turrita brother of Ghino di Tacco, for his robberies in Maremma,
was murdered by Ghino, in an apartment of his own house, in the
presence of many witnesses. Ghino was not only suffered to escape
in safety, but (as the commentators inform us) obtained so high a
reputation by the liberality with which he was accustomed to
dispense the fruits of his plunder, and treated those who fell
into his hands with so much courtesy, that he was afterwards
invited to Rome, and knighted by Boniface VIII. A story is told
of him by Boccaccio, G. x. N. 2.
v. 15.  Him beside.]  Ciacco de' Tariatti of Arezzo.  He is said
to have been carried by his horse into the Arno, and there
drowned, while he was in pursuit of certain of his enemies.
v. 17.  Frederic Novello.]  Son of the Conte Guido da Battifolle,
and slain by one of the family of Bostoli.
v. 18.  Of Pisa he.]  Farinata de' Scornigiani of Pisa.  His
father Marzuco, who had entered the order of the Frati Minori, so
entirely overcame the feelings of resentment, that he even kissed
the hands of the slayer of his son, and, as he was following the
funeral, exhorted his kinsmen to reconciliation.
v. 20.  Count 0rso.]  Son of Napoleone da Cerbaia, slain by
Alberto da Mangona, his uncle.
v. 23.  Peter de la Brosse.]  Secretary of Philip III  of France.
The courtiers, envying the high place which he held in the king's
favour, prevailed on Mary of Brabant to charge him falsely with
an attempt upon her person for which supposed crime he suffered
death. So say the Italian commentators.  Henault represents the
matter very differently: "Pierre de la Brosse, formerly barber to
St. Louis, afterwards the favorite of Philip, fearing the too
great attachment of the king for his wife Mary, accuses this
princess of having poisoned Louis, eldest son of Philip, by his
first marriage. This calumny is discovered by a nun of Nivelle in
Flanders.  La Brosse is hung." Abrege Chron. t. 275, &c.
v. 30.  In thy text.]  He refers to Virgil, Aen. 1, vi.  376.
Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando, 37. The sacred height
Of judgment. Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, a. ii. s. 2.
If he, which is the top of judgment
v. 66.  Eyeing us as a lion on his watch.]
A guisa di Leon quando si posa.
A line taken by Tasso, G.  L. c. x. st. 56.
v. 76.  Sordello.]  The history of Sordello's life is wrapt in
the obscurity of romance.  That he distinguished himself by his
skill in Provencal poetry is certain. It is probable that he was
born towards the end of the twelfth, and died about the middle of
the succeeding century.  Tiraboschi has taken much pains to sift
all the notices he could collect relating to him.  Honourable
mention of his name is made by our Poet in the Treatise de Vulg.
Eloq.  1. i. c. 15.
v. 76.  Thou inn of grief.]
Thou most beauteous inn
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee?
Shakespeare, Richard II a. 5. s. 1.
v. 89.  Justinian's hand.]  "What avails it that Justinian
delivered thee from the Goths, and reformed thy laws, if thou art
no longer under the control of his successors in the empire?"
v. 94.  That which God commands.]  He alludes to the precept-
"Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's."
v. 98.  O German Albert!]  The Emperor Albert I. succeeded
Adolphus in 1298, and was murdered in 1308.  See Par Canto XIX
114 v. 103.  Thy successor.]  The successor of Albert was Henry
of Luxembourg, by whose interposition in the affairs of Italy our
Poet hoped to have been reinstated in his native city.
v. 101.  Thy sire.]  The Emperor Rodolph, too intent on
increasing his power in Germany to give much of his thoughts to
Italy, "the garden of the empire."
v. 107.  Capulets and Montagues.]  Our ears are so familiarized
to the names of these rival families in the language of
Shakespeare, that I have used them instead of the "Montecchi" and
"Cappelletti."
v. 108.  Philippeschi and Monaldi.] Two other rival families in
v. 113.  What safety, Santafiore can supply.]  A place between
Pisa and Sienna.  What he alludes to is so doubtful, that it is
not certain whether we should not read "come si cura"--" How
Santafiore is governed." Perhaps the event related in the note to
v. 58, Canto XI. may be pointed at.
v. 127.  Marcellus.]
Un Marcel diventa
Ogni villan che parteggiando viene.
Repeated by Alamanni in his Coltivazione, 1. i.
v. 51.  I sick wretch.]  Imitated by the Cardinal de Polignac in
his Anti-Lucretius, 1. i. 1052.
Ceu lectum peragrat membris languentibus aeger
In latus alterne faevum dextrumque recumbens
Nec javat:  inde oculos tollit resupinus in altum:
Nusquam inventa quies; semper quaesita:  quod illi
Primum in deliciis fuerat, mox torquet et angit:
Nec morburm sanat, nec fallit taedia morbi.
v. 14.  Where one of mean estate might clasp his lord.]
Ariosto Orl.  F. c. xxiv. st. 19
E l'abbracciaro, ove il maggior s'abbraccia
Col capo nudo e col ginocchio chino.
v. 31.  The three holy virtues.]  Faith, Hope and Charity.
v. 32.  The red.]  Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance.
v. 72.  Fresh emeralds.]
Under foot the violet,
Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay
Broider'd the ground, more colour'd than with stone
Of costliest emblem.
Milton, P. L. b. iv. 793
Compare Ariosto, Orl. F. c. xxxiv. st. 49.
v. 79.  Salve Regina.]  The beginning of a prayer to the Virgin.
It is sufficient here to observe, that in similar instances I
shall either preserve the original Latin words or translate them,
as it may seem best to suit the purpose of the verse.
v. 91.  The Emperor Rodolph.]  See the last Canto, v. 104.  He
died in 1291.
v. 95.  That country.]  Bohemia.
v. 97.  Ottocar.]  King of Bohemia, was killed in the battle of
Marchfield, fought with Rodolph, August 26, 1278. Winceslaus II.
His son,who succeeded him in the kingdom of Bohemia. died in
1305. He is again taxed with luxury in the Paradise Canto XIX.
v. 101.  That one with the nose deprest. ] Philip III of France,
who died in 1285, at Perpignan, in his retreat from Arragon.
v. 102.  Him of gentle look.]  Henry of Naverre, father of Jane
married to Philip IV of France, whom Dante calls "mal di Francia"
-" Gallia's bane."
v. 110.  He so robust of limb.] Peter III called the Great,
King of Arragon, who died in 1285, leaving four sons, Alonzo,
James, Frederick and Peter. The two former succeeded him in the
kingdom of Arragon, and Frederick in that of Sicily.
See G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 102. and Mariana, I. xiv. c. 9.
He is enumerated among the Provencal poets by Millot, Hist. Litt.
Des Troubadours, t. iii. p. 150.
v. 111.  Him of feature prominent.] "Dal maschio naso"-with the
masculine nose." Charles I. King of Naples, Count of Anjou, and
brother of St. Lonis.  He died in 1284. The annalist of Florence
remarks, that "there had been no sovereign of the house of
France, since the time of Charlemagne, by whom Charles
was surpassed either in military renown, and prowess, or in the
loftiness of his understanding."  G. Villani, 1. vii. c.  94.
We shall, however, find many of his actions severely reprobated
in the twentieth Canto.
v. 113.  That stripling.]  Either (as the old commentators
suppose) Alonzo III King of Arragon, the eldest son of Peter III
who died in 1291, at the age of 27, or, according to Venturi,
Peter the youngest son. The former was a young prince of virtue
sufficient to have justified the eulogium and the hopes of Dante.
See Mariana, 1. xiv. c. 14.
v. 119.  Rarely.]
Full well can the wise poet of Florence
That hight Dante, speaken in this sentence
Lo!  in such manner rime is Dantes tale.
Full selde upriseth by his branches smale
Prowesse of man for God of his goodnesse
Woll that we claim of him our gentlenesse:
For of our elders may we nothing claime
But temporal thing, that men may hurt and maime.
Chaucer, Wife of Bathe's Tale.
Compare Homer, Od.  b. ii. v. 276; Pindar, Nem.  xi. 48 and
Euripides, Electra, 369.
v. 122.  To Charles.]  "Al Nasuto." -"Charles II King of Naples,
is no less inferior to his father Charles I. than James and
Frederick to theirs, Peter III."
v. 127.  Costanza.]  Widow of Peter III She has been already
mentioned in the third Canto, v. 112.  By Beatrice and Margaret
are probably meant two of the daughters of Raymond Berenger,
Count of Provence; the former married to St. Louis of France, the
latter to his brother Charles of Anjou.
See Paradise, Canto Vl. 135.  Dante therefore considers Peter as
the most illustrious of the three monarchs.
v. 129.  Harry of England.]  Henry III.
v. 130.  Better issue.]  Edward l. of whose glory our Poet was
perhaps a witness, in his visit to England.
v. 133.  William, that brave Marquis.]  William, Marquis of
Monferrat, was treacherously seized by his own subjects, at
Alessandria, in Lombardy, A.D. 1290, and ended his life in
prison. See G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 135.  A war ensued between the
people of Alessandria and those of Monferrat and the Canavese.
v. 6.  That seems to mourn for the expiring day.]
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. Gray's Elegy.
v. 13.  Te Lucis Ante.]  The beginning of one of the evening
v. 36.  As faculty.]
My earthly by his heav'nly overpower'd
     * * * *
As with an object, that excels the sense,
Dazzled and spent.
Milton, P. L. b. viii. 457.
v. 53.  Nino, thou courteous judge.]  Nino di Gallura de'
Visconti nephew to Count Ugolino de' Gherardeschi, and betrayed
by him. See Notes to Hell Canto XXXIII.
v. 65.  Conrad.]  Currado Malaspina.
v. 71 My Giovanna.]  The daughter of Nino, and wife of
Riccardo da Cammino of Trevigi.
v. 73.  Her mother.]  Beatrice, marchioness of Este wife of Nino,
and after his death married to Galeazzo de' Visconti of Milan.
v. 74.  The white and wimpled folds.]  The weeds of widowhood.
v. 80.  The viper.]  The arms of Galeazzo and the ensign of the
v. 81.  Shrill Gallura's bird.]  The cock was the ensign of
Gallura, Nino's province in Sardinia. Hell, Canto XXII.  80. and
v. 115.  Valdimagra.]  See Hell, Canto XXIV.  144. and Notes.
v. 133.  Sev'n times the tired sun.]  "The sun shall not enter
into the constellation of Aries seven times more, before thou
shalt have still better cause for the good opinion thou
expresses" of Valdimagra, in the kind reception thou shalt there
meet with."  Dante was hospitably received by the Marchese
Marcello Malaspina, during his banishment. A.D. 1307.
v. 1.  Now the fair consort of Tithonus old.]
La concubina di Titone antico.
So Tassoni, Secchia Rapita, c. viii. st. 15.
La puttanella del canuto amante.
v. 5.  Of that chill animal.]  The scorpion.
v. 14.  Our minds.]  Compare Hell, Canto XXVI. 7.
v. 18.  A golden-feathered eagle. ] Chaucer, in the house of
Fame at the conclusion of the first book and beginning of the
second, represents himself carried up by the "grim pawes" of a
golden eagle. Much of his description is closely imitated from
v. 50.  Lucia.]  The enIightening, grace of heaven Hell, Canto
v. 85.  The lowest stair.]  By the white step is meant the
distinctness with which the conscience of the penitent reflects
his offences, by the burnt and cracked one, his contrition on,
their account; and by that of porphyry, the fervour with which he
resolves on the future pursuit of piety and virtue.  Hence, no
doubt, Milton describing "the gate of heaven," P. L. b.
Each stair mysteriously was meant.
v. 100.  Seven times.] Seven P's, to denote the seven sins
(Peccata) of which he was to be cleansed in his passage through
v. 115.  One is more precious.]  The golden key denotes the
divine authority by which the priest absolves the sinners the
silver expresses the learning and
judgment requisite for the due discharge of that office.
v. 127.  Harsh was the grating.]
On a sudden open fly
With impetuous recoil and jarring, sound
Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder
Milton, P. L. b. ii 882
v. 128.  The Turpeian.]
Protinus, abducto patuerunt temple Metello.
Tunc rupes Tarpeia sonat: magnoque reclusas
Testatur stridore fores:  tune conditus imo
Eruitur tempo multis intactus ab annnis
Romani census populi, &c.
Lucan. Ph. 1. iii. 157.
v. 6.  That Wound.]  Venturi justly observes, that the Padre
d'Aquino has misrepresented the sense of this passage in his
translation.
--dabat ascensum tendentibus ultra
Scissa tremensque silex, tenuique erratica motu.
The verb "muover"' is used in the same signification in the
Inferno, Canto XVIII. 21.
Cosi da imo della roccia scogli
--from the rock's low base
Thus flinty paths advanc'd.
In neither place is actual motion intended to be expressed.
v. 52.  That from unbidden. office awes mankind.] Seo 2 Sam. G.
v 58.  Preceding.]  Ibid. 14, &c.
v. 68.  Gregory.]  St. Gregory's prayers are said to have
delivered Trajan from hell. See Paradise, Canto XX. 40.
v. 69.  Trajan the Emperor.  For this story, Landino refers to
two writers, whom he calls "Heunando," of France, by whom he
means  Elinand, a monk and chronicler, in the reign of Philip
Augustus, and "Polycrato," of England, by whom is meant John of
Salisbury, author of the Polycraticus de Curialium Nugis, in the
twelfth century. The passage in the text I find to be
nearly a translation from that work, 1. v. c. 8. The original
appears to be in Dio Cassius, where it is told of the Emperor
Hadrian, lib. I xix. [GREEK HERE]
When a woman appeared to him with a suit, as he was on a journey,
at first he answered her, 'I have no leisure,' but she crying
out to him, 'then reign no longer' he turned about, and heard her
v. 119.  As to support.]  Chillingworth, ch.vi. 54.  speaks of
"those crouching anticks, which seem in great buildings to labour
under the weight they bear."  And Lord Shaftesbury has a similar
illustration in his Essay on Wit and Humour, p. 4. s. 3.
v. 1.  0 thou Mighty Father.] The first four lines are borrowed
by Pulci, Morg. Magg.  c. vi.
Dante, in his 'Credo,' has again versified the Lord's prayer.
v. 58.  I was of Latinum.] Omberto, the son of Guglielino
Aldobrandeseo, Count of Santafiore, in the territory of Sienna
His arrogance provoked his countrymen to such a pitch of fury
against him, that he was murdered by them at Campagnatico.
v. 79.  Oderigi.]  The illuminator, or miniature painter, a
friend of Giotto and Dante
v. 83.  Bolognian Franco.]  Franco of Bologna, who is said to
have been a pupil of Oderigi's.
v. 93.  Cimabue.]  Giovanni Cimabue, the restorer of painting,
was born at Florence, of a noble family, in 1240, and died in
1300. The passage in the text is an illusion to his epitaph:
Credidit ut Cimabos picturae castra tenere,
Sic tenuit vivens:  nunc tenet astra poli.
v. 95.  The cry is Giotto's.]  In Giotto we have a proof at how
early a period the fine arts were encouraged in Italy.  His
talents were discovered by Cimabue, while he was tending sheep
for his father in the neighbourhood of Florence, and he was
afterwards patronized by Pope Benedict XI  and Robert King of
Naples, and enjoyed the society and friendship of Dante, whose
likeness he has transmitted to posterity. He  died in 1336, at
the age of 60.
v. 96.  One Guido from the other.]  Guido Cavalcanti, the friend
of our Poet, (see Hell, Canto X. 59.) had eclipsed the literary
fame of Guido Guinicelli, of a noble family in Bologna, whom we
shall meet with in the twenty-sixth Canto and of whom frequent
mention is made by our Poet in his Treatise de Vulg. Eloq.
Guinicelli died in 1276.  Many of Cavalcanti's writings, hitherto
in MS. are now publishing at Florence" Esprit des Journaux, Jan.
v. 97.  He perhaps is born.]  Some imagine, with much
probability, that Dante here augurs the greatness of his own
poetical reputation.  Others have fancied that he prophesies the
glory of Petrarch.  But Petrarch was not yet born.
v. 136.  suitor.]  Provenzano salvani humbled himself so far for
the  sake of one of his friends, who was detained in captivity by
Charles I of Sicily, as personally to supplicate the people of
Sienna to contribute the sum required by the king for his ransom:
and this act of self-abasement atoned for his general ambition
v. 140.  Thy neighbours soon.]  "Thou wilt know in the time of
thy banishment, which is near at hand, what it is to solicit
favours of others and 'tremble through every vein,' lest they
should be refused  thee."
v. 26.  The Thymbraen god.]  Apollo
Si modo, quem perhibes, pater est Thymbraeus Apollo. Virg. Georg.
v. 37.  Mars.]
With such a grace,
The giants that attempted to scale heaven
When they lay dead on the Phlegren plain
Mars did appear to Jove.
Beaumont and Fletcher, The Prophetess, a. 2. s. 3.
v. 42.  O Rehoboam.]  1 Kings, c. xii.  18.
v. 46.  A1cmaeon.] Virg. Aen. l. vi. 445, and Homer, Od. xi. 325.
v. 48.  Sennacherib.]  2 Kings, c.  xix.  37.
v. 58.  What master of the pencil or the style.]
--inimitable on earth
By model, or by shading pencil drawn.
Milton, P. L. b. iii.  509.
v. 94.  The chapel stands.]  The church of San Miniato in
Florence situated on a height that overlooks the Arno, where it
is crossed by the bridge Rubaconte, so called from Messer
Rubaconte da Mandelia, of Milan chief magistrate of Florence, by
whom the bridge was founded in 1237.  See G. Villani, 1. vi. c.
v.  96.  The well-guided city] This is said ironically of
v. 99.  The registry.]  In allusion to certain instances of fraud
committed with respect to the public accounts and measures See
Paradise Canto XVI. 103.
v. 26.  They have no wine.]  John, ii.  3. These words of the
Virgin are referred to as an instance of charity.
v. 29.  Orestes]  Alluding to his friendship with Pylades
v. 32.  Love ye those have wrong'd you.]  Matt. c. v. 44.
v. 33.  The scourge.]  "The chastisement of envy consists in
hearing examples of the opposite virtue, charity.  As a curb and
restraint on this vice, you will presently hear very different
sounds, those of threatening and punishment."
v. 87.  Citizens Of one true city.]
"For here we have no continuing city, but we seek to come." Heb.
C. xiii. 14.
v. 101.  Sapia.]  A lady of Sienna, who, living in exile at
Colle, was so overjoyed at a defeat which her countrymen
sustained near that place that she declared nothing more was
wanting to make her die contented.
v. 114.  The merlin.]  The story of the merlin is that having
been induced by a gleam of fine weather in the winter to escape
from his master, he was soon oppressed by the rigour of the
v. 119.  The hermit Piero.]  Piero Pettinagno, a holy hermit of
v. 141.  That vain multitude.]  The Siennese.  See Hell, Canto
XXIX. 117. "Their acquisition of Telamone, a seaport on the
confines of the Maremma, has led them to conceive hopes of
becoming a naval power: but this scheme will prove as chimerical
as their former plan for the discovery of a subterraneous stream
under their city."  Why they gave the appellation of Diana to the
imagined stream, Venturi says he leaves it to the antiquaries of
Sienna to conjecture.
v. 34.  Maim'd of Pelorus.]  Virg. Aen. 1. iii. 414.
Torn from Pelorus
Milton P. L. b. i. 232
v. 45.  'Midst brute swine.]  The people of Casentino.
v. 49.  Curs.]  The Arno leaves Arezzo about four miles to the
v. 53.  Wolves.]  The Florentines.
v. 55.  Foxes.]  The Pisans
v. 61.  Thy grandson.]  Fulcieri de' Calboli, grandson of
Rinieri de' Calboli, who is here spoken to.  The atrocities
predicted came to pass in 1302.  See G. Villani, 1.  viii c. 59
v. 95.  'Twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore.]  The
boundaries of Romagna.
v. 99.  Lizio.]  Lizio da Valbona, introduced into Boccaccio's
Decameron, G. v. N, 4.
v. 100.  Manardi, Traversaro, and Carpigna.1 Arrigo Manardi of
Faenza, or as some say, of Brettinoro, Pier Traversaro, lord of
Ravenna, and Guido di Carpigna of Montefeltro.
v. 102.  In Bologna the low artisan.]  One who had been a
mechanic named Lambertaccio, arrived at almost supreme power in
v. 103.  Yon Bernardin.]  Bernardin di Fosco, a man of low
origin but great talents, who governed at Faenza.
v. 107.  Prata.]  A place between Faenza and Ravenna
v. 107.  Of Azzo him.] Ugolino of the Ubaldini family in Tuscany
He is recounted among the poets by Crescimbeni and Tiraboschi.
v. 108.  Tignoso.] Federigo Tignoso of Rimini.
v. 109.  Traversaro's house and Anastagio's.]  Two noble families
of Ravenna.  She to whom Dryden has given the name of Honoria, in
the fable so admirably paraphrased from Boccaccio, was of the
former: her lover and the specter were of the Anastagi family.
v. 111.  The ladies, &c.]  These two lines express the true
spirit of chivalry.  "Agi" is understood by the commentators whom
I have consulted,to mean "the ease procured for others by the
exertions of knight-errantry."  But surely it signifies the
alternation of ease with labour.
v. 114.  O Brettinoro.]  A beautifully situated castle in
Romagna, the hospitable residence of Guido del Duca, who is here
v. 118.  Baynacavallo.]  A castle between Imola and Ravenna
v. 118.  Castracaro ill
And Conio worse.]  Both in Romagna.
v. 121.  Pagani.]  The Pagani were lords of Faenza and Imola. One
of them Machinardo, was named the Demon, from his treachery.
See Hell, Canto XXVII. 47, and Note.
v. 124.  Hugolin.]  Ugolino Ubaldini, a noble and virtuous person
in Faenza, who, on account of his age probably, was not likely to
leave any offspring behind him.  He is enumerated among the poets
by Crescimbeni, and Tiraboschi.  Mr. Matthias's edit. vol. i. 143
v. 136.  Whosoever finds Will slay me.] The words of Cain, Gen.
v. 142.  Aglauros.]  Ovid, Met.  I, ii.  fate. 12.
v. 145.  There was the galling bit.]  Referring to what had been
before said, Canto XIII.  35.
v. 1.  As much.]  It wanted three hours of sunset.
v. 16.  As when the ray.]  Compare Virg. Aen. 1.viii. 22, and
Apol. Rhod. 1. iii. 755.
v. 19.  Ascending at a glance.]  Lucretius, 1. iv. 215.
v. 20.  Differs from the stone.]  The motion of light being
quicker  than that of a stone through an equal space.
v. 38.  Blessed the merciful.  Matt. c. v. 7.
v. 43.  Romagna's spirit.] Guido del Duea, of Brettinoro whom we
have seen in the preceding Canto.
v. 87.  A dame.]  Luke, c. ii.  18
v. 101.  How shall we those requite.]  The answer of Pisistratus
the tyrant to his wife, when she urged him to inflict the
punishment of death on a young man, who, inflamed with love for
his daughter, had snatched from her a kiss in public.  The story
is told by Valerius Maximus, 1.v. 1.
v. 105.  A stripling youth.]  The protomartyr Stephen.
v. 94.  As thou.]  "If thou wert still living."
v. 46.  I was of Lombardy, and Marco call'd.]  A Venetian
gentleman. "Lombardo" both was his surname and denoted the
country to which he belonged. G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 120, terms
him "a wise and worthy courtier."
v. 58.  Elsewhere.]  He refers to what Guido del Duca had said in
the thirteenth Canto, concerning the degeneracy of his
v. 70.  If this were so.]  Mr. Crowe in his Lewesdon Hill has
expressed similar sentiments with much energy.
Of this be sure,
Where freedom is not, there no virtue is, &c.
Compare Origen in Genesim, Patrum Graecorum, vol. xi. p. 14.
Wirer burgi,
v. 79.  To mightier force.]  "Though ye are subject to a higher
power than that of the heavenly constellations, e`en to the power
of the great Creator himself, yet ye are still left in the
possession of liberty."
v. 88.  Like a babe that wantons sportively.]  This reminds one
of the Emperor Hadrian's verses to his departing soul:
Animula vagula blandula, &c
v. 99.  The fortress.]  Justice, the most necessary virtue in the
chief magistrate, as the commentators explain it.
v. 103.  Who.]  He compares the Pope, on account of the union of
the temporal with the spiritual power in his person, to an
unclean beast in the levitical law.  "The camel, because he
cheweth the cud, but divideth not the hoof, he is unclean unto
you."  Levit. c. xi. 4.
v. 110.  Two sons.]  The Emperor and the Bishop of Rome.
v. 117.  That land.]  Lombardy.
v. 119.  Ere the day.]  Before the Emperor Frederick II was
defeated before Parma, in 1248.  G. Villani, 1. vi. c. 35.
v. 126.  The good Gherardo.]  Gherardo di Camino of Trevigi.
He is honourably mentioned in our Poet's "Convito."  Opere di
Dante, t. i. p. 173 Venez. 8vo.  1793. And Tiraboschi supposes
him to have been the same Gherardo with whom the Provencal poets
were used to meet with hospitable reception.  See Mr. Matthias's
edition, t. i. p. 137, v. 127.
Conrad.]  Currado da Palazzo, a gentleman of Brescia.
v. 127.  Guido of Castello.]  Of Reggio.  All the Italians were
called Lombards by the French.
v. 144.  His daughter Gaia.]  A lady equally admired for her
modesty, the beauty of her person, and the excellency of her
talents. Gaia, says Tiraboschi, may perhaps lay claim to the
praise of having been the first among the Italian ladies, by whom
the vernacular poetry was cultivated.  Ibid. p. 137.
v. 21.  The bird, that most Delights itself in song.]
I cannot think with Vellutello, that the swallow is here meant.
Dante probably alludes to the story of Philomela, as it is found
in Homer's  Odyssey, b. xix. 518 rather than as later poets have
told it. "She intended to slay the son of her husband's brother
Amphion, incited to it, by the envy of his wife, who had six
children, while herself had only two, but through mistake slew
her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed by
Jupiter into a nightingale."
Cowper's note on the passage.
In speaking of the nightingale, let me observe, that while some
have considered its song as a melancholy, and others as a
cheerful one, Chiabrera appears to have come nearest the truth,
when he says, in the Alcippo, a. l. s. 1,
Non mal si stanca d' iterar le note
O gioconde o dogliose,
Al sentir dilettose.
Unwearied still reiterates her lays,
Jocund or sad, delightful to the ear.
v. 26.  One crucified.]  Haman.  See the book of Esther, c. vii.
v. 34.  A damsel.]  Lavinia, mourning for her mother Amata, who,
impelled by grief and indignation for the supposed death of
Turnus, destroyed herself.  Aen. 1. xii. 595.
v. 43.  The broken slumber quivering ere it dies.]  Venturi
suggests that this bold and unusual metaphor may have been formed
on that in Virgil.
Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris
Incipit, et dono divun gratissima serpit.
Aen. 1. ii. 268.
v. 68.  The peace-makers.]  Matt. c. v. 9.
v. 81.  The love.]  "A defect in our love towards God, or
lukewarmness in piety, is here removed."
v. 94.  The primal blessings.]  Spiritual good.
v. 95.  Th' inferior.]  Temporal good.
v. 102.  Now.]  "It is impossible for any being, either to hate
itself, or to hate the First Cause of all, by which it exists.
We can therefore only rejoice in the evil which befalls others."
v. 111.  There is.]  The proud.
v. 114.  There is.]  The envious.
v. 117.  There is he.]  The resentful.
v. 135.  Along Three circles.]  According to the allegorical
commentators, as Venturi has observed, Reason is represented
under the person of Virgil, and Sense under that of Dante.  The
former leaves to the latter to discover for itself the three
carnal sins, avarice, gluttony and libidinousness; having already
declared the nature of the spiritual sins, pride, envy, anger,
and indifference, or lukewarmness in piety, which the Italians
call accidia, from the Greek word.
[GREEK HERE]
v. 1.  The teacher ended.]  Compare Plato, Protagoras, v. iii.
p. 123.  Bip.  edit. [GREEK HERE]  Apoll. Rhod. 1. i. 513,
and Milton, P. L. b. viii. 1.
The angel ended, &c.
v. 23.  Your apprehension.]  It is literally, "Your apprehensive
faculty derives intention from a thing really existing, and
displays the intention within you, so that it makes the soul turn
to it."  The commentators labour in explaining this; and whatever
sense they have elicited may, I think, be resolved into the words
of the translation in the text.
v. 47.  Spirit.]  The human soul, which differs from that of
brutes, inasmuch as, though united with the body, it has a
separate existence of its own.
v. 65.  Three men.]  The great moral philosophers among the
v. 78.  A crag.]  I have preferred the reading of Landino,
scheggion, "crag," conceiving it to be more poetical than
secchion, "bucket," which is the common reading.  The same cause,
the vapours, which the commentators say might give the appearance
of increased magnitude to the moon, might also make her seem
broken at her rise.
v. 78.  Up the vault.]  The moon passed with a motion opposite to
that of the heavens, through the constellation of the scorpion,
in which the sun is, when to those who are in Rome he appears to
set between the isles of Corsica and Sardinia.
v. 84.  Andes.]  Andes, now Pietola, made more famous than Mantua
near which it is situated, by having been the birthplace of
v. 92.  Ismenus and Asopus.]  Rivers near Thebes
v. 98.  Mary.]  Luke, c i. 39, 40
v. 99.  Caesar.]  See Lucan, Phars. I. iii. and iv, and
Caesar de Bello Civiii, I. i.  Caesar left Brutus to complete
the siege of Marseilles, and hastened on to the attack of
Afranius and Petreius, the generals of Pompey, at Ilerda (Lerida)
v. 118.  abbot.]  Alberto, abbot of San Zeno in Verona, when
Frederick I was emperor, by whom Milan was besieged and reduced
v. 121.  There is he.]  Alberto della Scala, lord of Verona, who
had made his natural son abbot of San Zeno.
v. 133.  First they died.]  The Israelites, who, on account of
their disobedience, died before reaching the promised land.
v. 135.  And they.]  Virg  Aen. 1. v.
v. 1.  The hour.]  Near the dawn.
v. 4.  The geomancer.]  The geomancers, says Landino, when they
divined, drew a figure consisting of sixteen marks, named from so
many stars which constitute the end of Aquarius and the beginning
of Pisces. One of these they called "the greater fortune."
v. 7.  A woman's shape.]  Worldly happiness.  This allegory
reminds us of the "Choice of Hercules."
v. 14.  Love's own hue.]
A smile that glow'd
Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
Milton, P. L. b. viii.  619
--facies pulcherrima tune est
Quum porphyriaco variatur candida rubro
Quid color hic roseus sibi vult?  designat amorem:
Quippe amor est igni similis; flammasque rubentes
Ignus habere solet.
Palingenii Zodiacus Vitae, 1. xii.
v. 26.  A dame.]  Philosophy.
v. 49.  Who mourn.]  Matt.  c. v. 4.
v. 72.  My soul.]  Psalm cxix.  5
v. 97.  The successor of Peter Ottobuono, of the family of
Fieschi Counts of Lavagna, died thirty-nine days after he became
Pope, with the title of Adrian V, in 1276.
v. 98.  That stream.]  The river Lavagna, in the Genoese
v. 135.  nor shall be giv'n in marriage.]  Matt. c. xxii. 30.
"Since in this state we neither marry nor are given in marriage,
I am no longer the spouse of the church, and therefore no longer
retain my former dignity.
v. 140.  A kinswoman.]  Alagia is said to have been the wife of
the Marchese Marcello Malaspina, one of the poet's protectors
during his exile.  See Canto VIII.  133.
v. 3.  I drew the sponge.]  "I did not persevere in my inquiries
from the spirit though still anxious to learn more."
v. 11.  Wolf.]  Avarice.
v. 16.  Of his appearing.]  He is thought to allude to
Can Grande della Scala.  See Hell, Canto I. 98.
v. 25.  Fabricius.]  Compare Petrarch, Tr. della Fama, c. 1.
Un Curio ed un Fabricio, &c.
v. 30.  Nicholas.]  The story of Nicholas is, that an angel
having revealed to him that the father of a family was so
impoverished as to resolve on exposing the chastity of his three
daughters to sale, he threw in at the window of their house three
bags of money, containing a sufficient portion for each of them.
v. 42.  Root.]  Hugh Capet, ancestor of Philip IV.
v. 46.  Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power.]  These
cities had lately been seized by Philip IV.  The spirit is made
to imitate the approaching defeat of the French army by the
Flemings, in the battle of Courtrai, which happened in 1302.
v. 51.  The slaughter's trade.]  This reflection on the birth of
his ancestor induced Francis I  to forbid the reading of Dante in
his dominions Hugh Capet, who came to the throne of France in
987, was however the grandson of Robert, who was the brother of
Eudes,  King of France in 888.
v. 52.  All save one.]  The posterity of Charlemagne, the second
race of French monarchs, had failed, with the exception of
Charles of Lorraine who is said, on account of the melancholy
temper of his mind, to have always clothed himself in black.
Venturi suggest that Dante may have confounded him with Childeric
III  the last of the Merosvingian, or first, race, who was
deposed and made a monk in 751.
v. 57.  My son.]  Hugh Capet caused his son Robert to be crowned
v. 59.  The Great dower of Provence.]  Louis IX, and his brother
Charles of Anjou, married two of the four daughters of Raymond
Berenger Count of Provence. See Par. Canto VI.  135.
v. 63.  For amends.]  This is ironical
v. 64.  Poitou it seiz'd, Navarre and Gascony.]  I venture to
Potti e Navarra prese e Guascogna,
Ponti e Normandia prese e Guascogna
Seiz'd Ponthieu, Normandy and Gascogny.
Landino has "Potti," and he is probably right for Poitou was
annexed to the French crown by Philip IV. See Henault, Abrege
Chron. A.D. l283, &c. Normandy had been united to it long before
by Philip Augustus, a circumstance of which it is difficult to
imagine that Dante should have been ignorant, but Philip IV, says
Henault, ibid., took the title of King of Navarre: and the
subjugation of Navarre is also alluded to in the
Paradise, Canto XIX. 140.  In 1293, Philip IV summoned Edward I.
to do him homage for the duchy of Gascogny, which he had
conceived the design of seizing.  See G. Villani, l. viii. c. 4.
v. 66.  Young Conradine.] Charles of Anjou put Conradine to death
in 1268; and became King of Naples. See Hell, Canto XXVIII, 16,
v. 67.  Th' angelic teacher.]  Thomas Aquinas.  He was reported
to have been poisoned by a physician, who wished to ingratiate
himself with Charles of Anjou.  G. Villani, I. ix.  c. 218.  We
shall find him in the Paradise, Canto X.
v. 69.  Another Charles.]  Charles of Valois, brother of Philip
IV, was sent  by Pope Boniface VIII to settle the disturbed state
of Florence. In consequence of the measures he adopted for that
purpose, our poet and his friend,  were condemned to exile and
v. 71.  -with that lance
Which the arch-traitor tilted with.]
con la lancia
Con la qual giostro Guida.
If I remember right, in one of the old romances, Judas is
represented tilting with our Saviour.
v. 78.  The other.]  Charles, King of Naples, the eldest son of
Charles of Anjou, having, contrary to the directions of his
father, engaged with Ruggier de Lauria, the admiral of Peter of
Arragon, was made prisoner and carried into Sicily, June, 1284.
He afterwards, in consideration of a large sum of money, married
his daughter to Azzo VI11, Marquis of Ferrara.
v. 85.  The flower-de-luce.]  Boniface VIII was seized at Alagna
in Campagna, by order of Philip IV., in the year 1303, and soon
after died of grief. G. Villani, 1.  viii. c. 63.
v. 94.  Into the temple.]  It is uncertain whether our Poet
alludes still to the event mentioned in the preceding Note, or to
the destruction of the order of the Templars in 1310, but the
latter appears more probable.
v. 103.  Pygmalion.]  Virg.  Aen.  1.  i. 348.
v. 107.  Achan.]  Joshua, c.  vii.
v. 111.  Heliodorus.]  2 Maccabees, c.  iii.  25.  "For there
appeared unto them a horse, with a terrible rider upon him, and
adorned with a very fair covering, and he ran fiercely and smote
at Heliodorus with his forefeet."
v. 112.  Thracia's king.]  Polymnestor, the murderer of
Polydorus. Hell, Canto XXX, 19.
v. 114.  Crassus.]  Marcus Crassus, who fell miserably in the
Parthian war. See Appian, Parthica.
v. 26.  She.]  Lachesis, one of the three fates.
v. 43.  --that, which heaven in itself
Doth of itself receive.]
Venturi, I think rightly interprets this to be light.
v. 49.  Thaumantian.]  Figlia di Taumante
[GREEK HERE]
Compare Plato, Theaet.  v. ii.  p. 76.  Bip.  edit., Virg; Aen.
ix. 5, and Spenser, Faery Queen, b. v. c. 3.  st. 25.
v. 85.  The name.]  The name of Poet.
v. 89.  From Tolosa.]  Dante, as many others have done, confounds
Statius the poet, who was a Neapolitan, with a rhetorician of the
same name, who was of Tolosa, or Thoulouse.  Thus Chaucer, Temple
of Fame, b. iii. The Tholason, that height Stace.
v. 94.  Fell.]  Statius lived to write only a small part of the
v. 5.  Blessed.]  Matt.  v. 6.
v. 14.  Aquinum's bard.]  Juvenal had celebrated his contemporary
Statius, Sat. vii.  82; though some critics imagine that there is
a secret derision couched under his praise.
v. 28.  Why.]  Quid non mortalia pecaora cogis
Anri sacra fames?
Virg. Aen. 1. iii. 57
Venturi supposes that Dante might have mistaken the meaning of
the word sacra, and construed it "holy," instead of "cursed."
But I see no necessity for having recourse to so improbable a
v. 41.  The fierce encounter.]  See Hell, Canto VII.  26.
v. 46.  With shorn locks.]  Ibid.  58.
v. 57.  The twin sorrow of Jocasta's womb.]  Eteocles and
v. 71.  A renovated world.]  Virg.  Ecl.  iv. 5
v. 100.  That Greek.]  Homer
v. 107.  Of thy train. ]  Of those celebrated in thy Poem."
v. 112.  Tiresias' daughter.]  Dante appears to have forgotten
that he had placed Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, among the
sorcerers. See Hell Canto XX.  Vellutello endeavours, rather
awkwardly, to reconcile the inconsistency, by observing, that
although she was placed there as a sinner, yet, as one of famous
memory, she had also a place among the worthies in Limbo.
Lombardi excuses our author better, by observing that Tiresias
had a daughter named Daphne.  See Diodorus Siculus, 1. iv. 66.
v. 139.  Mary took more thought.]  "The blessed virgin, who
answers for yon now in heaven, when she said to Jesus, at the
marriage in Cana of Galilee, 'they have no wine,' regarded not
the gratification of her own taste, but the honour of the nuptial
v. 142  The women of old Rome.] See Valerius Maximus, 1. ii. c.
v. 9.  My lips.]  Psalm ii.  15.
v. 20.  The eyes.]  Compare Ovid, Metam.  1. viii. 801
v. 26.  When Mary.]  Josephus, De Bello Jud. 1. vii. c. xxi. p.
954  Ed Genev.  fol. 1611. The shocking story is well told
v. 27.  Rings.]
In this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings
Their precious stones new lost.
Shakespeare, Lear, a. 5.  s.  3
v. 28.  Who reads the name.]  "He, who pretends to distinguish
the letters which form OMO in the features of the human face,
"might easily have traced out the M on their emaciated
countenances." The temples, nose, and forehead are supposed to
represent this letter; and the eyes the two O's
placed within each side of it.
v. 44.  Forese.]  One of the brothers of Piccarda, she who is
again spoken of in the next Canto, and introduced in the
Paradise, Canto III.
V. 72.  If the power.]  "If thou didst delay thy repentance to
the last, when thou hadst lost the power of sinning, how happens
it thou art arrived here so early?"
v. 76.  Lower.]  In the Ante-Purgatory.  See Canto II.
v. 80.  My Nella.]  The wife of Forese.
v. 87.  The tract most barb'rous of Sardinia's isle.]  The
Barbagia is part of Sardinia, to which that name was given, on
account of the uncivilized state of its inhabitants, who are said
to have gone nearly naked.
v. 91.  The' unblushing domes of Florence.]  Landino's note
exhibits a curious instance of the changeableness of his
countrywomen. He even goes beyond the acrimony of the original.
"In those days," says the commentator, "no less than in ours, the
Florentine ladies exposed the neck and bosom, a dress, no doubt,
more suitable to a harlot than a matron. But, as
they changed soon after, insomuch that they wore collars up to
the chin, covering the whole of the neck and throat, so have I
hopes they will change again; not indeed so much from motives of
decency, as through that fickleness, which pervades every action
of their lives."
v. 97.  Saracens.]  "This word, during the middle ages, was
indiscriminately applied to Pagans and Mahometans; in short, to
all nations (except the Jew's) who did not profess Christianity."
Mr. Ellis's specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol. i.
page 196, a note.  Lond.  8vo. 1805.
v. 20.  Buonaggiunta.]  Buonaggiunta Urbiciani, of Lucca.
"There is a canzone by this poet, printed in the collection made
by the Giunti, (p. 209,).land a sonnet to Guido Guinicelli in
that made by Corbinelli, (p 169,) from which we collect that he
lived not about 1230, as Quadrio supposes, (t. ii. p. 159,)  but
towards the end of the thirteenth century. Concerning, other
poems by Buonaggiunta, that are preserved in MS. in some
libraries, Crescimbeni may be consulted." Tiraboschi, Mr.
Matthias's ed. v. i. p. 115.
v. 23.  He was of Tours.]  Simon of Tours became Pope, with the
title of Martin IV in 1281 and died in 1285.
v. 29.  Ubaldino.]  Ubaldino degli Ubaldini, of Pila, in the
Florentine territory.
v.  30.  Boniface.]  Archbishop of Ravenna.  By Venturi he is
called Bonifazio de Fieschi, a Genoese, by Vellutello, the son of
the above, mentioned Ubaldini and by Laudino Francioso, a
v. 32.  The Marquis.]  The Marchese de' Rigogliosi, of Forli.
v. 38.  gentucca.]  Of this lady it is thought that our Poet
became enamoured during his exile.
v. 45.  Whose brow no wimple shades yet.]  "Who has not yet
assumed the dress of a woman."
v. 46.  Blame it as they may.]  See Hell, Canto XXI.  39.
v. 51.  Ladies, ye that con the lore of love.]Donne ch' avete
intelletto d'amore.The first verse of a canzone in our author's
v. 56.  The Notary.]  Jucopo da Lentino, called the Notary, a
poet of these times.  He was probably an Apulian: for Dante, (De
Vulg. Eloq. I. i. c 12.) quoting a verse which belongs to a
canzone of his published by the Giunti, without mentioning the
writer's name, terms him one of "the illustrious Apulians,"
praefulgentes Apuli. See Tiraboschi, Mr. Matthias's
edit.  vol. i. p. 137. Crescimbeni (1. i. Della Volg.  Poes p.
72. 4to. ed. 1698) gives an extract from one of his poems,
printed in Allacci's Collection, to show that the whimsical
compositions called "Ariette " are not of modern
v. 56.  Guittone.]  Fra Guittone, of Arezzo, holds a
distinguished place in Italian literature, as besides his poems
printed in the collection of the Giunti, he has left a collection
of letters, forty in number, which afford the earliest specimen
of that kind of writing in the language.  They were
published at Rome in 1743, with learned illustrations by Giovanni
Bottari.  He was also the first who gave to the sonnet its
regular and legitimate form, a species of composition in which
not only his own countrymen, but many of the best poets in all
the cultivated languages of modern Europe, have since so much
Guittone, a native of Arezzo, was the son of Viva di Michele.
He was of the order of the " Frati Godenti," of which an account
may be seen in the Notes to Hell, Canto XXIII.  In the year 1293,
he founded a monastery of the order of Camaldoli, in Florence,
and died in the following year.  Tiraboschi, Ibid.  p. 119.
Dante, in the Treatise de Vulg. Eloq.  1. i. c. 13, and 1. ii. c.
6., blames him for preferring the plebeian to the mor
courtly style; and Petrarch twice places him in the company of
our Poet. Triumph of Love, cap. iv. and Son. Par. See "Sennuccio
v. 63.  The birds.]  Hell, Canto V. 46, Euripides, Helena, 1495,
and Statius; Theb.  1.  V.  12.
v. 81.  He.]  Corso Donati was suspected of aiming at the
sovereignty of Florence.  To escape the fury of his fellow
citizens, he fled away on horseback, but failing, was overtaken
and slain, A.D. 1308.  The contemporary annalist, after relating
at length the circumstances of his fate, adds, "that he was one
of the wisest and most valorous knights the best speaker, the
most expert statesman, the most renowned and enterprising, man of
his age in Italy, a comely knight and of graceful carriage, but
very worldly, and in his time had formed many conspiracies in
Florence and entered into many scandalous practices, for the sake
of attaining state and lordship."  G. Villani, 1. viii. c.  96.
The character of Corso is forcibly drawn by another
of  his contemporaries Dino Compagni.  1.  iii., Muratori, Rer.
Ital. Script.  t. ix.  p. 523.
v. 129.  Creatures of the clouds.]  The Centaurs. Ovid. Met. 1.
fab.  4 v. 123.  The Hebrews.]  Judges, c. vii.
v. 58.  As sea-sponge.]  The fetus is in this stage is zoophyte.
v. 66.  -More wise
Than thou, has erred.]
Averroes is said to be here meant.  Venturi refers to his
commentary on Aristotle, De Anim 1. iii. c. 5. for the opinion
that there is only one universal intellect or mind pervading
every individual of the human race. Much of the knowledge
displayed by our Poet in the present Canto appears to have been
derived from the medical work o+ Averroes, called the Colliget.
Lib.  ii. f. 10.  Ven. 1400. fol.
v. 79.  Mark the sun's heat.]  Redi and Tiraboschi (Mr.
Matthias's ed. v. ii. p. 36.) have considered this an
anticipation of a profound discovery of Galileo's in natural
philosophy, but it is in reality taken from a passage in Cicero
"de Senectute," where, speaking of the grape, he says, " quae, et
succo terrae et calore solis augescens, primo
est peracerba gustatu, deinde maturata dulcescit."
v. 123.  I do, not know a man.]  Luke, c. i.  34.
v. 126.  Callisto.]  See Ovid, Met. 1. ii. fab. 5.
v. 70.  Caesar.]  For the opprobrium east on Caesar's effeminacy,
see Suetonius, Julius Caesar, c. 49.
v. 83.  Guinicelli.]  See Note to Canto XI.  96.
v. 87.  lycurgus.]  Statius, Theb.  1.  iv. and v. Hypsipile had
left her infant charge, the son of Lycurgus, on a bank, where it
was destroyed by a serpent, when she went to show the Argive army
the river of Langia: and, on her escaping the effects of
Lycurgus's resentment, the joy her own children felt at the sight
of her was such as our Poet felt on beholding his
predecessor Guinicelli.
The incidents are beautifully described in Statius, and seem to
have made an impression on Dante, for he again (Canto XXII. 110.)
characterizes Hypsipile, as her-
Who show'd Langia's wave.
v. 111.  He.]  The united testimony of Dante, and of Petrarch,
in his Triumph of Love, e. iv.  places Arnault Daniel at the head
of the Provencal poets. That he was born of poor but noble
parents, at the castle of Ribeyrae in Perigord, and that he was
at the English court, is the amount of Millot's information
concerning him (t. ii. p. 479).
The account there given of his writings is not much more
satisfactory, and the criticism on them must go for little better
than nothing.
It is to be regretted that we have not an opportunity of judging
for ourselves of his "love ditties and his tales of prose "
Versi d'amore e prose di romanzi.
Our Poet frequently cities him in the work De Vulgari Eloquentia.
According to Crescimbeni, (Della Volg. Poes. 1. 1. p. 7. ed.
1698.) He died in 1189.
v. 113.  The songster of Limoges.]  Giraud de Borneil, of
Sideuil, a castle in Limoges.  He was a troubadour, much admired
and caressed in his day, and appears to have been in favour with
the monarchs of Castile, Leon, Navarre, and Arragon He is quoted
by Dante, De Vulg. Eloq., and many of his poems are still
remaining in MS. According to Nostradamus he died in 1278.
Millot, Hist. Litt. des Troub. t. ii. p. 1 and 23.  But I suspect
that there is some error in this date, and that he did not live
to see so late a period.
v. 118.  Guittone.]  See Cano XXIV. 56.
v. 123.  Far as needs.]  See Canto XI. 23.
v. 132.  Thy courtesy.]  Arnault is here made to speak in his own
tongue, the Provencal.  According to Dante, (De Vulg. Eloq. 1. 1.
c. 8.) the Provencal was one language with the Spanish.  What he
says on this subject is so curious, that the reader will perhaps
not be displeased it I give an abstract of it.
He first makes three great divisions of the European languages.
"One of these extends from the mouths of the Danube, or the lake
of Maeotis, to the western limits of England, and is bounded by
the limits of the French and Italians, and by the ocean. One
idiom obtained over the whole of this space: but was
afterwards subdivided into, the Sclavonian, Hungarian, Teutonic,
Saxon, English, and the vernacular tongues of several other
people, one sign remaining to all, that they use the affirmative
io, (our English ay.)  The whole of Europe, beginning from the
Hungarian limits and stretching towards the east, has a second
idiom which reaches still further than the end of Europe into
Asia. This is the Greek.  In all that remains of Europe, there is
a third idiom subdivided into three dialects, which may be
severally distinguished by the use of the affirmatives, oc, oil,
and si; the first spoken by the Spaniards, the next by the
French, and the third by the Latins (or Italians).  The first
occupy the western part of southern Europe, beginning from the
limits of the Genoese.  The third occupy the eastern part
from the said limits, as far, that is, as the promontory of
Italy, where the Adriatic sea begins, and to Sicily. The second
are in a manner northern with respect to these for they have the
Germans to the east and north, on the west they are bounded by
the English sea, and the mountains of Arragon, and on the
south by the people of Provence and the declivity of the
Apennine." Ibid.  c. x. "Each of these three," he observes, "has
its own claims to distinction The excellency of the French
language consists in its being best adapted, on account of its
facility and agreeableness, to prose narration, (quicquid
redactum, sive inventum est ad vulgare prosaicum suum
est); and he instances the books compiled on the gests of the
Trojans and Romans and the delightful adventures of King Arthur,
with many other histories and works of instruction. The Spanish
(or Provencal) may boast of its having produced such
as first cultivated in this as in a more perfect and sweet
language, the vernacular poetry: among whom are Pierre
d'Auvergne, and others more ancient.
The privileges of the Latin, or Italian are two:  first that it
may reckon for its own those writers who have adopted a more
sweet and subtle style of poetry, in the number of whom are Cino,
da Pistoia and his friend, and the next, that its writers seem to
adhere to, certain general rules of grammar, and in so doing give
it, in the opinion of the intelligent, a very weighty pretension
to preference."
v. 1.  The sun.]  At Jerusalem it was dawn, in Spain midnight,
and in India noonday, while it was sunset in Purgatory
v. 10.  Blessed.]  Matt. c. v. 8.
v. 57.  Come.]  Matt.  c. xxv. 34.
v. 102.  I am Leah.]  By Leah is understood the active life, as
Rachel figures the contemplative. The divinity is the mirror in
which the latter looks. Michel Angelo has made these allegorical
personages the subject of two statues on the monument of Julius
II. in the church of S. Pietro in Vincolo. See Mr. Duppa's Life
of Michel Angelo, Sculpture viii. And x. and p 247.
v. 135.  Those bright eyes.]  The eyes of Beatrice.
CANTO XXVIII
v. 11.  To that part.]  The west.
v. 14.  The feather'd quiristers] Imitated by Boccaccio,
Fiammetta, 1. iv. "Odi i queruli uccelli," &c. --"Hear the
querulous birds plaining with sweet songs, and the boughs
trembling, and, moved by a gentle wind, as it were keeping tenor
to their notes."
v. 7.  A pleasant air.]  Compare Ariosto, O. F. c. xxxiv. st. 50.
v. Chiassi.]  This is the wood where the scene of Boccaccio's
sublimest story is laid. See Dec.  g. 5. n. 8. and Dryden's
Theodore and Honoria Our Poet perhaps wandered in it daring his
abode with Guido Novello da Polenta.
v. 41.  A lady.]  Most of the commentators suppose, that by this
lady, who in the last Canto is called Matilda, is to be
understood the Countess Matilda, who endowed the holy see with
the estates called the Patrimony of St. Peter,
and died in 1115. See G. Villani, 1. iv. e. 20 But it seems more
probable that she should be intended for an allegorical
v. 80.  Thou, Lord  hast made me glad.]  Psalm xcii. 4
v. 146.  On the Parnassian mountain.]
In bicipiti somniasse Parnasso.
Persius  Prol.
v. 76.  Listed colours.]
Di sette liste tutte in quel colori, &c.
Conspicuous with three listed colours gay.
Milton, P. L. b. xi.  865.
v. 79.  Ten paces.]  For an explanation of the allegorical
meaning of this mysterious procession, Venturi refers those "who
would see in the dark" to the commentaries of Landino,
Vellutello, and others: and adds that it is evident the Poet has
accommodated to his own fancy many sacred images in the
Apocalypse.  In Vasari's Life of Giotto, we learn that Dante
recommended that book to his friend, as affording fit
subjects for his pencil.
v. 89.  Four.]  The four evangelists.
v. 96.  Ezekiel.]  Chap. 1.  4.
v. 101.  John.]  Rev. c. iv.  8.
v. 104.  Gryphon.]  Under the Gryphon, an imaginary creature, the
forepart of which is an eagle, and the hinder a lion, is shadowed
forth the union of the divine and human nature in Jesus Christ.
The car is the church.
v. 115.  Tellus' prayer.]  Ovid, Met.  1. ii. v. 279.
v. 116.  'Three nymphs.]  The three evangelical virtues: the
first Charity, the next Hope, and the third Faith.  Faith may be
produced by charity, or charity by faith, but the inducements to
hope must arise either from one or other of these.
v. 125.  A band quaternion.]  The four moral or cardinal virtues,
of whom Prudence directs the others.
v. 129.  Two old men.]  Saint Luke, characterized as the writer
of the Arts of the Apostles and Saint Paul.
v. 133.  Of the great Coan.]  Hippocrates, "whom nature made for
the benefit of her favourite creature, man."
v. 138.  Four others.]  "The commentators," says Venturi;
"suppose these four to be the four evangelists, but I should
rather take them to be four principal doctors of the church."
Yet both Landino and Vellutello expressly call them the authors
of the epistles, James, Peter, John and Jude.
v. 140.  One single old man.]  As some say, St. John, under his
character of the author of the Apocalypse.  But in the poem
attributed to Giacopo, the son of our Poet, which in some MSS,
accompanies the original of this work, and is descriptive of its
plan, this old man is said to be Moses.
E'l vecchio, ch' era dietro a tutti loro
And the old man, who was behind them all,
See No. 3459 of the Harl.  MSS. in the British Museum.
v. 1.  The polar light.]  The seven candlesticks.
v. 12.  Come.]  Song of Solomon, c. iv. 8.
v. 19.  Blessed.]  Matt.  c. xxi. 9.
v. 20.  From full hands.] Virg.  Aen 1. vi. 884.
v. 97.  The old flame.]
Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae
Virg.  Aen. I. I. 23.
Conosco i segni dell' antico fuoco.
Giusto de' Conti, La Bella Mano.
v. 61.  Nor.]  "Not all the beauties of the terrestrial Paradise;
in which I was, were sufficient to allay my grief."
v. 85.  But.]  They sang the thirty-first Psalm, to the end of
the eighth verse.
v. 87.  The living rafters.]  The leafless woods on the Apennine.
v. 90.  The land whereon no shadow falls.]  "When the wind blows,
from off Africa, where, at the time of the equinox, bodies being
under the equator cast little or no shadow; or, in other words,
when the wind is south."
v. 98.  The ice.]  Milton has transferred this conceit, though
scarcely worth the pains of removing, into one of his Italian
v. 3.  With lateral edge.]  The words of Beatrice, when not
addressed directly to himself, but speaking to the angel of hell,
Dante had thought sufficiently harsh.
v. 39.  Counter to the edge.]  "The weapons of divine justice are
blunted by the confession and sorrow of the offender."
v. 58.  Bird.]  Prov. c. i. 17
v. 69.  From Iarbas' land.]  The south.
v. 71.  The beard.]  "I perceived, that when she desired me to
raise my beard, instead of telling me to lift up my head, a
severe reflection was implied on my want of that wisdom which
should accompany the age of manhood."
v. 98.  Tu asperges me.]  A prayer repeated by the priest at
sprinkling the holy water.
v. 106.  And in the heaven are stars.]  See Canto I. 24.
v. 116.  The emeralds.]  The eyes of Beatrice.
v. 2.  Their ten years' thirst.]  Beatrice had been dead ten
v. 9.  Two fix'd a gaze.]  The allegorical interpretation of
Vellutello whether it be considered as justly terrible from the
text or not, conveys so useful a lesson, that it deserves our
notice. "The understanding is sometimes so intently engaged in
contemplating the light of divine truth in the scriptures, that
it becomes dazzled, and is made less capable of attaining
such knowledge, than if it had sought after it with greater
v. 39.  Its tresses.]  Daniel, c. iv.  10, &c.
v. 41.  The Indians.]
Quos oceano proprior gerit India lucos.
Virg. Georg.  1. ii. 122,
Such as at this day to Indians known.
Milton, P. L. b. ix. 1102.
v. 51.  When large floods of radiance.]  When the sun enters into
Aries, the constellation next to that of the Fish.
v. 63.  Th' unpitying eyes.]  See Ovid, Met. 1. i. 689.
v. 74.  The blossoming of that fair tree.]  Our Saviour's
transfiguration.
v. 97.  Those lights.]  The tapers of gold.
v. 101.  That true Rome.]  Heaven.
v. 110.  The bird of Jove.]  This, which is imitated from
Ezekiel, c. xvii. 3, 4.  appears to be typical of the
persecutions which the church sustained from the Roman Emperors.
v. 118.  A fox.]  By the fox perhaps is represented the treachery
of the heretics.
v. 124.  With his feathers lin'd.].  An allusion to the donations
made by the Roman Emperors to the church.
v. 130.  A dragon.]  Probably Mahomet.
v. 136.  With plumes.]  The donations before mentioned.
v. 142.  Heads.]  By the seven heads, it is supposed with
sufficient probability, are meant the seven capital sins, by the
three with two horns, pride, anger, and avarice, injurious both
to man himself and to his neighbor: by the four with one horn,
gluttony, lukewarmness, concupiscence, and envy, hurtful, at
least in their primary effects, chiefly to him who is
guilty of them.
v. 146.  O'er it.]  The harlot is thought to represent the state
of the church under Boniface VIII and the giant to figure Philip
IV of France.
v. 155.  Dragg'd on.]  The removal of the Pope's residence from
Rome to Avignon is pointed at.
CANTO XXXIII
v. 1.  The Heathen.]  Psalm lxxix.  1.
v. 36.  Hope not to scare God's vengeance with a sop.]  "Let not
him who hath occasioned the destruction of the church, that
vessel which the serpent brake, hope to appease the anger of the
Deity by any outward acts of religious, or rather superstitious,
ceremony, such as was that, in our poet's time, performed by a
murderer at Florence, who imagined himself secure from vengeance,
if he ate a sop of bread in wine, upon the grave of the person
murdered, within the space of nine days."
v. 38.  That eagle.]  He prognosticates that the Emperor of
Germany will not always continue to submit to the usurpations of
the Pope, and foretells the coming of Henry VII Duke of
Luxembourg signified by the numerical figures DVX; or, as
Lombardi supposes, of Can Grande della Scala, appointed the
leader of the Ghibelline forces. It is unnecessary to point out
the imitation of the Apocalypse in the manner of this prophecy.
v. 50.  The Naiads.]  Dante, it is observed, has been led into a
mistake by a corruption in the text of Ovid's Metam.  I.  vii.
75, where he found-
Carmina Naiades non intellecta priorum;
instead of Carmina Laiades, &c. as it has been since corrected.
Lombardi refers to Pansanias, where "the Nymphs" are spoken of as
expounders of oracles for a vindication of the poet's accuracy.
Should the reader blame me for not departing from the error of
the original (if error it be), he may substitute
Events shall be the Oedipus will solve, &c.
v. 67.  Elsa's numbing waters.]  The Elsa, a little stream, which
flows into the Arno about twenty miles below Florence, is said to
possess a petrifying quality.
v. 78.  That one brings home his staff inwreath'd with palm.]
"For the same cause that the pilgrim, returning from Palestine,
brings home his staff, or bourdon, bound with palm," that is, to
show where he has been.
Che si reca 'I bordon di palma cinto.
"In regard to the word bourdon, why it has been applied to a
pilgrim's staff, it is not easy to guess.  I believe, however
that this name has been given to such sort of staves, because
pilgrims usually travel and perform their pilgrimages on foot,
their staves serving them instead of horses or mules, then called
bourdons and burdones, by writers in the middle ages."
Mr. Johnes's Translation of Joinville's Memoirs.
Dissertation xv, by M. du Cange p. 152.  4to. edit.
The word is thrice used by Chaucer in the Romaunt of the Rose.
His glory, by whose might all things are mov'd,
Pierces the universe, and in one part
Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less.  In heav'n,
That largeliest of his light partakes, was I,
Witness of things, which to relate again
Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence;
For that, so near approaching its desire
Our intellect is to such depth absorb'd,
That memory cannot follow.  Nathless all,
That in my thoughts I of that sacred realm
Could store, shall now be matter of my song.
     Benign Apollo!  this last labour aid,
And make me such a vessel of thy worth,
As thy own laurel claims of me belov'd.
Thus far hath one of steep Parnassus' brows
Suffic'd me; henceforth there is need of both
For my remaining enterprise Do thou
Enter into my bosom, and there breathe
So, as when Marsyas by thy hand was dragg'd
Forth from his limbs unsheath'd.  O power divine!
If thou to me of shine impart so much,
That of that happy realm the shadow'd form
Trac'd in my thoughts I may set forth to view,
Thou shalt behold me of thy favour'd tree
Come to the foot, and crown myself with leaves;
For to that honour thou, and my high theme
Will fit me.  If but seldom, mighty Sire!
To grace his triumph gathers thence a wreath
Caesar or bard (more shame for human wills
Deprav'd) joy to the Delphic god must spring
From the Pierian foliage, when one breast
Is with such thirst inspir'd.  From a small spark
Great flame hath risen: after me perchance
Others with better voice may pray, and gain
From the Cirrhaean city answer kind.
     Through diver passages, the world's bright lamp
Rises to mortals, but through that which joins
Four circles with the threefold cross, in best
Course, and in happiest constellation set
He comes, and to the worldly wax best gives
Its temper and impression.  Morning there,
Here eve was by almost such passage made;
And whiteness had o'erspread that hemisphere,
Blackness the other part; when to the left
I saw Beatrice turn'd, and on the sun
Gazing, as never eagle fix'd his ken.
As from the first a second beam is wont
To issue, and reflected upwards rise,
E'en as a pilgrim bent on his return,
So of her act, that through the eyesight pass'd
Into my fancy, mine was form'd; and straight,
Beyond our mortal wont, I fix'd mine eyes
Upon the sun.  Much is allowed us there,
That here exceeds our pow'r; thanks to the place
Made for the dwelling of the human kind
     I suffer'd it not long, and yet so long
That I beheld it bick'ring sparks around,
As iron that comes boiling from the fire.
And suddenly upon the day appear'd
A day new-ris'n, as he, who hath the power,
Had with another sun bedeck'd the sky.
     Her eyes fast fix'd on the eternal wheels,
Beatrice stood unmov'd; and I with ken
Fix'd upon her, from upward gaze remov'd
At her aspect, such inwardly became
As Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb,
That made him peer among the ocean gods;
Words may not tell of that transhuman change:
And therefore let the example serve, though weak,
For those whom grace hath better proof in store
     If I were only what thou didst create,
Then newly, Love!  by whom the heav'n is rul'd,
Thou know'st, who by thy light didst bear me up.
Whenas the wheel which thou dost ever guide,
Desired Spirit!  with its harmony
Temper'd of thee and measur'd, charm'd mine ear,
Then seem'd to me so much of heav'n to blaze
With the sun's flame, that rain or flood ne'er made
A lake so broad.  The newness of the sound,
And that great light, inflam'd me with desire,
Keener than e'er was felt, to know their cause.
     Whence she who saw me, clearly as myself,
To calm my troubled mind, before I ask'd,
Open'd her lips, and gracious thus began:
"With false imagination thou thyself
Mak'st dull, so that thou seest not the thing,
Which thou hadst seen, had that been shaken off.
Thou art not on the earth as thou believ'st;
For light'ning scap'd from its own proper place
Ne'er ran, as thou hast hither now return'd."
     Although divested of my first-rais'd doubt,
By those brief words, accompanied with smiles,
Yet in new doubt was I entangled more,
And said:  "Already satisfied, I rest
From admiration deep, but now admire
How I above those lighter bodies rise."
     Whence, after utt'rance of a piteous sigh,
She tow'rds me bent her eyes, with such a look,
As on her frenzied child a mother casts;
Then thus began:  "Among themselves all things
Have order; and from hence the form, which makes
The universe resemble God.  In this
The higher creatures see the printed steps
Of that eternal worth, which is the end
Whither the line is drawn.  All natures lean,
In this their order, diversely, some more,
Some less approaching to their primal source.
Thus they to different havens are mov'd on
Through the vast sea of being, and each one
With instinct giv'n, that bears it in its course;
This to the lunar sphere directs the fire,
This prompts the hearts of mortal animals,
This the brute earth together knits, and binds.
Nor only creatures, void of intellect,
Are aim'd at by this bow; hut even those,
That have intelligence and love, are pierc'd.
That Providence, who so well orders all,
With her own light makes ever calm the heaven,
In which the substance, that hath greatest speed,
Is turn'd: and thither now, as to our seat
Predestin'd, we are carried by the force
Of that strong cord, that never looses dart,
But at fair aim and glad.  Yet is it true,
That as ofttimes but ill accords the form
To the design of art, through sluggishness
Of unreplying matter, so this course
Is sometimes quitted by the creature, who
Hath power, directed thus, to bend elsewhere;
As from a cloud the fire is seen to fall,
From its original impulse warp'd, to earth,
By vicious fondness.  Thou no more admire
Thy soaring, (if I rightly deem,) than lapse
Of torrent downwards from a mountain's height.
There would in thee for wonder be more cause,
If, free of hind'rance, thou hadst fix'd thyself
Below, like fire unmoving on the earth."
     So said, she turn'd toward the heav'n her face.
All ye, who in small bark have following sail'd,
Eager to listen, on the advent'rous track
Of my proud keel, that singing cuts its way,
Backward return with speed, and your own shores
Revisit, nor put out to open sea,
Where losing me, perchance ye may remain
Bewilder'd in deep maze.  The way I pass
Ne'er yet was run: Minerva breathes the gale,
Apollo guides me, and another Nine
To my rapt sight the arctic beams reveal.
Ye other few, who have outstretch'd the neck.
Timely for food of angels, on which here
They live, yet never know satiety,
Through the deep brine ye fearless may put out
Your vessel, marking, well the furrow broad
Before you in the wave, that on both sides
Equal returns.  Those, glorious, who pass'd o'er
To Colchos, wonder'd not as ye will do,
When they saw Jason following the plough.
     The increate perpetual thirst, that draws
Toward the realm of God's own form, bore us
Swift almost as the heaven ye behold.
     Beatrice upward gaz'd, and I on her,
And in such space as on the notch a dart
Is plac'd, then loosen'd flies, I saw myself
Arriv'd, where wond'rous thing engag'd my sight.
Whence she, to whom no work of mine was hid,
Turning to me, with aspect glad as fair,
Bespake me: "Gratefully direct thy mind
To God, through whom to this first star we come."
     Me seem'd as if a cloud had cover'd us,
Translucent, solid, firm, and polish'd bright,
Like adamant, which the sun's beam had smit
Within itself the ever-during pearl
Receiv'd us, as the wave a ray of light
Receives, and rests unbroken.  If I then
Was of corporeal frame, and it transcend
Our weaker thought, how one dimension thus
Another could endure, which needs must be
If body enter body, how much more
Must the desire inflame us to behold
That essence, which discovers by what means
God and our nature join'd!  There will be seen
That which we hold through faith, not shown by proof,
But in itself intelligibly plain,
E'en as the truth that man at first believes.
     I answered:  "Lady!  I with thoughts devout,
Such as I best can frame, give thanks to Him,
Who hath remov'd me from the mortal world.
But tell, I pray thee, whence the gloomy spots
Upon this body, which below on earth
Give rise to talk of Cain in fabling quaint?"
     She somewhat smil'd, then spake:  "If mortals err
In their opinion, when the key of sense
Unlocks not, surely wonder's weapon keen
Ought not to pierce thee; since thou find'st, the wings
Of reason to pursue the senses' flight
Are short.  But what thy own thought is, declare."
     Then I:  "What various here above appears,
Is caus'd, I deem, by bodies dense or rare."
     She then resum'd:  "Thou certainly wilt see
In falsehood thy belief o'erwhelm'd, if well
Thou listen to the arguments, which I
Shall bring to face it.  The eighth sphere displays
Numberless lights, the which in kind and size
May be remark'd of different aspects;
If rare or dense of that were cause alone,
One single virtue then would be in all,
Alike distributed, or more, or less.
Different virtues needs must be the fruits
Of formal principles, and these, save one,
Will by thy reasoning be destroy'd.  Beside,
If rarity were of that dusk the cause,
Which thou inquirest, either in some part
That planet must throughout be void, nor fed
With its own matter; or, as bodies share
Their fat and leanness, in like manner this
Must in its volume change the leaves.  The first,
If it were true, had through the sun's eclipse
Been manifested, by transparency
Of light, as through aught rare beside effus'd.
But this is not.  Therefore remains to see
The other cause: and if the other fall,
Erroneous so must prove what seem'd to thee.
If not from side to side this rarity
Pass through, there needs must be a limit, whence
Its contrary no further lets it pass.
And hence the beam, that from without proceeds,
Must be pour'd back, as colour comes, through glass
Reflected, which behind it lead conceals.
Now wilt thou say, that there of murkier hue
Than in the other part the ray is shown,
By being thence refracted farther back.
From this perplexity will free thee soon
Experience, if thereof thou trial make,
The fountain whence your arts derive their streame.
Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove
From thee alike, and more remote the third.
Betwixt the former pair, shall meet thine eyes;
Then turn'd toward them, cause behind thy back
A light to stand, that on the three shall shine,
And thus reflected come to thee from all.
Though that beheld most distant do not stretch
A space so ample, yet in brightness thou
Will own it equaling the rest.  But now,
As under snow the ground, if the warm ray
Smites it, remains dismantled of the hue
And cold, that cover'd it before, so thee,
Dismantled in thy mind, I will inform
With light so lively, that the tremulous beam
Shall quiver where it falls.  Within the heaven,
Where peace divine inhabits, circles round
A body, in whose virtue dies the being
Of all that it contains.  The following heaven,
That hath so many lights, this being divides,
Through  different essences, from it distinct,
And yet contain'd within it.  The other orbs
Their separate distinctions variously
Dispose, for their own seed and produce apt.
Thus do these organs of the world proceed,
As thou beholdest now, from step to step,
Their influences from above deriving,
And thence transmitting downwards.  Mark me well,
How through this passage to the truth I ford,
The truth thou lov'st, that thou henceforth alone,
May'st know to keep the shallows, safe, untold.
     "The virtue and motion of the sacred orbs,
As mallet by the workman's hand, must needs
By blessed movers be inspir'd.  This heaven,
Made beauteous by so many luminaries,
From the deep spirit, that moves its circling sphere,
Its image takes an impress as a seal:
And as the soul, that dwells within your dust,
Through members different, yet together form'd,
In different pow'rs resolves itself; e'en so
The intellectual efficacy unfolds
Its goodness multiplied throughout the stars;
On its own unity revolving still.
Different virtue compact different
Makes with the precious body it enlivens,
With which it knits, as life in you is knit.
From its original nature full of joy,
The virtue mingled through the body shines,
As joy through pupil of the living eye.
From hence proceeds, that which from light to light
Seems different, and not from dense or rare.
This is the formal cause, that generates
Proportion'd to its power, the dusk or clear."
That sun, which erst with love my bosom warm'd
Had of fair truth unveil'd the sweet aspect,
By proof of right, and of the false reproof;
And I, to own myself convinc'd and free
Of doubt, as much as needed, rais'd my head
Erect for speech.  But soon a sight appear'd,
Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix'd,
That of confession I no longer thought.
     As through translucent and smooth glass, or wave
Clear and unmov'd, and flowing not so deep
As that its bed is dark, the shape returns
So faint of our impictur'd lineaments,
That on white forehead set a pearl as strong
Comes to the eye: such saw I many a face,
All stretch'd to speak, from whence I straight conceiv'd
Delusion opposite to that, which rais'd
Between the man and fountain, amorous flame.
     Sudden, as I perceiv'd them, deeming these
Reflected semblances to see of whom
They were, I turn'd mine eyes, and nothing saw;
Then turn'd them back, directed on the light
Of my sweet guide, who smiling shot forth beams
From her celestial eyes.  "Wonder not thou,"
She cry'd, "at this my smiling, when I see
Thy childish judgment; since not yet on truth
It rests the foot, but, as it still is wont,
Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy.
True substances are these, which thou behold'st,
Hither through failure of their vow exil'd.
But speak thou with them; listen, and believe,
That the true light, which fills them with desire,
Permits not from its beams their feet to stray."
     Straight to the shadow which for converse seem'd
Most earnest, I addressed me, and began,
As one by over-eagerness perplex'd:
"O spirit, born for joy!  who in the rays
Of life eternal, of that sweetness know'st
The flavour, which, not tasted, passes far
All apprehension, me it well would please,
If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and this
Your station here." Whence she, with kindness prompt,
And eyes glist'ning with smiles:  "Our charity,
To any wish by justice introduc'd,
Bars not the door, no more than she above,
Who would have all her court be like herself.
I was a virgin sister in the earth;
And if thy mind observe me well, this form,
With such addition grac'd of loveliness,
Will not conceal me long, but thou wilt know
Piccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus plac'd,
Here 'mid these other blessed also blest.
Our hearts, whose high affections burn alone
With pleasure, from the Holy Spirit conceiv'd,
Admitted to his order dwell in joy.
And this condition, which appears so low,
Is for this cause assign'd us, that our vows
Were in some part neglected and made void."
     Whence I to her replied:  "Something divine
Beams in your countenance, wond'rous fair,
From former knowledge quite transmuting you.
Therefore to recollect was I so slow.
But what thou sayst hath to my memory
Given now such aid, that to retrace your forms
Is easier.  Yet inform me, ye, who here
Are happy, long ye for a higher place
More to behold, and more in love to dwell?"
     She with those other spirits gently smil'd,
Then answer'd with such gladness, that she seem'd
With love's first flame to glow:  "Brother!  our will
Is in composure settled by the power
Of charity, who makes us will alone
What we possess, and nought beyond desire;
If we should wish to be exalted more,
Then must our wishes jar with the high will
Of him, who sets us here, which in these orbs
Thou wilt confess not possible, if here
To be in charity must needs befall,
And if her nature well thou contemplate.
Rather it is inherent in this state
Of blessedness, to keep ourselves within
The divine will, by which our wills with his
Are one.  So that as we from step to step
Are plac'd throughout this kingdom, pleases all,
E'en as our King, who in us plants his will;
And in his will is our tranquillity;
It is the mighty ocean, whither tends
Whatever it creates and nature makes."
     Then saw I clearly how each spot in heav'n
Is Paradise, though with like gracious dew
The supreme virtue show'r not over all.
     But as it chances, if one sort of food
Hath satiated, and of another still
The appetite remains, that this is ask'd,
And thanks for that return'd; e'en so did I
In word and motion, bent from her to learn
What web it was, through which she had not drawn
The shuttle to its point.  She thus began:
"Exalted worth and perfectness of life
The Lady higher up enshrine in heaven,
By whose pure laws upon your nether earth
The robe and veil they wear, to that intent,
That e'en till death they may keep watch or sleep
With their great bridegroom, who accepts each vow,
Which to his gracious pleasure love conforms.
from the world, to follow her, when young
Escap'd; and, in her vesture mantling me,
Made promise of the way her sect enjoins.
Thereafter men, for ill than good more apt,
Forth snatch'd me from the pleasant cloister's pale.
God knows how after that my life was fram'd.
This other splendid shape, which thou beholdst
At my right side, burning with all the light
Of this our orb, what of myself I tell
May to herself apply.  From her, like me
A sister, with like violence were torn
The saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows.
E'en when she to the world again was brought
In spite of her own will and better wont,
Yet not for that the bosom's inward veil
Did she renounce.  This is the luminary
Of mighty Constance, who from that loud blast,
Which blew the second over Suabia's realm,
That power produc'd, which was the third and last."
     She ceas'd from further talk, and then began
"Ave Maria" singing, and with that song
Vanish'd, as heavy substance through deep wave.
     Mine eye, that far as it was capable,
Pursued her, when in dimness she was lost,
Turn'd to the mark where greater want impell'd,
And bent on Beatrice all its gaze.
But she as light'ning beam'd upon my looks:
So that the sight sustain'd it not at first.
Whence I to question her became less prompt.
Between two kinds of food, both equally
Remote and tempting, first a man might die
Of hunger, ere he one could freely choose.
E'en so would stand a lamb between the maw
Of two fierce wolves, in dread of both alike:
E'en so between two deer a dog would stand,
Wherefore, if I was silent, fault nor praise
I to myself impute, by equal doubts
Held in suspense, since of necessity
It happen'd.  Silent was I, yet desire
Was painted in my looks; and thus I spake
My wish more earnestly than language could.
     As Daniel, when the haughty king he freed
From ire, that spurr'd him on to deeds unjust
And violent; so look'd Beatrice then.
     "Well I discern," she thus her words address'd,
"How contrary desires each way constrain thee,
So that thy anxious thought is in itself
Bound up and stifled, nor breathes freely forth.
Thou arguest; if the good intent remain;
What reason that another's violence
Should stint the measure of my fair desert?
     "Cause too thou findst for doubt, in that it seems,
That spirits to the stars, as Plato deem'd,
Return.  These are the questions which thy will
Urge equally; and therefore I the first
Of that will treat which hath the more of gall.
Of seraphim he who is most ensky'd,
Moses and Samuel, and either John,
Choose which thou wilt, nor even Mary's self,
Have not in any other heav'n their seats,
Than have those spirits which so late thou saw'st;
Nor more or fewer years exist; but all
Make the first circle beauteous, diversely
Partaking of sweet life, as more or less
Afflation of eternal bliss pervades them.
Here were they shown thee, not that fate assigns
This for their sphere, but for a sign to thee
Of that celestial furthest from the height.
Thus needs, that ye may apprehend, we speak:
Since from things sensible alone ye learn
That, which digested rightly after turns
To intellectual.  For no other cause
The scripture, condescending graciously
To your perception, hands and feet to God
Attributes, nor so means: and holy church
Doth represent with human countenance
Gabriel, and Michael, and him who made
Tobias whole.  Unlike what here thou seest,
The judgment of Timaeus, who affirms
Each soul restor'd to its particular star,
Believing it to have been taken thence,
When nature gave it to inform her mold:
Since to appearance his intention is
E'en what his words declare: or else to shun
Derision, haply thus he hath disguis'd
His true opinion.  If his meaning be,
That to the influencing of these orbs revert
The honour and the blame in human acts,
Perchance he doth not wholly miss the truth.
This principle, not understood aright,
Erewhile perverted well nigh all the world;
So that it fell to fabled names of Jove,
And Mercury, and Mars.  That other doubt,
Which moves thee, is less harmful; for it brings
No peril of removing thee from me.
     "That, to the eye of man, our justice seems
Unjust, is argument for faith, and not
For heretic declension.  To the end
This truth may stand more clearly in your view,
I will content thee even to thy wish
     "If violence be, when that which suffers, nought
Consents to that which forceth, not for this
These spirits stood exculpate.  For the will,
That will not, still survives unquench'd, and doth
As nature doth in fire, tho' violence
Wrest it a thousand times; for, if it yield
Or more or less, so far it follows force.
And thus did these, whom they had power to seek
The hallow'd place again.  In them, had will
Been perfect, such as once upon the bars
Held Laurence firm, or wrought in Scaevola
To his own hand remorseless, to the path,
Whence they were drawn, their steps had hasten'd back,
When liberty return'd: but in too few
Resolve so steadfast dwells.  And by these words
If duly weigh'd, that argument is void,
Which oft might have perplex'd thee still.  But now
Another question thwarts thee, which to solve
Might try thy patience without better aid.
I have, no doubt, instill'd into thy mind,
That blessed spirit may not lie; since near
The source of primal truth it dwells for aye:
And thou might'st after of Piccarda learn
That Constance held affection to the veil;
So that she seems to contradict me here.
Not seldom, brother, it hath chanc'd for men
To do what they had gladly left undone,
Yet to shun peril they have done amiss:
E'en as Alcmaeon, at his father's suit
Slew his own mother, so made pitiless
Not to lose pity.  On this point bethink thee,
That force and will are blended in such wise
As not to make the' offence excusable.
Absolute will agrees not to the wrong,
That inasmuch as there is fear of woe
From non-compliance, it agrees.  Of will
Thus absolute Piccarda spake, and I
Of th' other; so that both have truly said."
     Such was the flow of that pure rill, that well'd
From forth the fountain of all truth; and such
The rest, that to my wond'ring thoughts l found.
      "O thou of primal love the prime delight!
Goddess!  "I straight reply'd, "whose lively words
Still shed new heat and vigour through my soul!
Affection fails me to requite thy grace
With equal sum of gratitude: be his
To recompense, who sees and can reward thee.
Well I discern, that by that truth alone
Enlighten'd, beyond which no truth may roam,
Our mind can satisfy her thirst to know:
Therein she resteth, e'en as in his lair
The wild beast, soon as she hath reach'd that bound,
And she hath power to reach it; else desire
Were given to no end.  And thence doth doubt
Spring, like a shoot, around the stock of truth;
And it is nature which from height to height
On to the summit prompts us.  This invites,
This doth assure me, lady, rev'rently
To ask thee of other truth, that yet
Is dark to me.  I fain would know, if man
By other works well done may so supply
The failure of his vows, that in your scale
They lack not weight."  I spake; and on me straight
Beatrice look'd with eyes that shot forth sparks
Of love celestial in such copious stream,
That, virtue sinking in me overpower'd,
I turn'd, and downward bent confus'd my sight.
"If beyond earthly wont, the flame of love
Illume me, so that I o'ercome thy power
Of vision, marvel not: but learn the cause
In that perfection of the sight, which soon
As apprehending, hasteneth on to reach
The good it apprehends.  I well discern,
How in thine intellect already shines
The light eternal, which to view alone
Ne'er fails to kindle love; and if aught else
Your love seduces, 't is but that it shows
Some ill-mark'd vestige of that primal beam.
     "This would'st thou know, if failure of the vow
By other service may be so supplied,
As from self-question to assure the soul."
     Thus she her words, not heedless of my wish,
Began; and thus, as one who breaks not off
Discourse, continued in her saintly strain.
"Supreme of gifts, which God creating gave
Of his free bounty, sign most evident
Of goodness, and in his account most priz'd,
Was liberty of will, the boon wherewith
All intellectual creatures, and them sole
He hath endow'd.  Hence now thou mayst infer
Of what high worth the vow, which so is fram'd
That when man offers, God well-pleas'd accepts;
For in the compact between God and him,
This treasure, such as I describe it to thee,
He makes the victim, and of his own act.
What compensation therefore may he find?
If that, whereof thou hast oblation made,
By using well thou think'st to consecrate,
Thou would'st of theft do charitable deed.
Thus I resolve thee of the greater point.
     "But forasmuch as holy church, herein
Dispensing, seems to contradict the truth
I have discover'd to thee, yet behooves
Thou rest a little longer at the board,
Ere the crude aliment, which thou hast taken,
Digested fitly to nutrition turn.
Open thy mind to what I now unfold,
And give it inward keeping.  Knowledge comes
Of learning well retain'd, unfruitful else.
     "This sacrifice in essence of two things
Consisteth; one is that, whereof 't is made,
The covenant the other.  For the last,
It ne'er is cancell'd if not kept: and hence
I spake erewhile so strictly of its force.
For this it was enjoin'd the Israelites,
Though leave were giv'n them, as thou know'st, to change
The offering, still to offer.  Th' other part,
The matter and the substance of the vow,
May well be such, to that without offence
It may for other substance be exchang'd.
But at his own discretion none may shift
The burden on his shoulders, unreleas'd
By either key, the yellow and the white.
Nor deem of any change, as less than vain,
If the last bond be not within the new
Included, as the quatre in the six.
No satisfaction therefore can be paid
For what so precious in the balance weighs,
That all in counterpoise must kick the beam.
Take then no vow at random: ta'en, with faith
Preserve it; yet not bent, as Jephthah once,
Blindly to execute a rash resolve,
Whom better it had suited to exclaim,
'1 have done ill,' than to redeem his pledge
By doing worse or, not unlike to him
In folly, that great leader of the Greeks:
Whence, on the alter, Iphigenia mourn'd
Her virgin beauty, and hath since made mourn
Both wise and simple, even all, who hear
Of so fell sacrifice.  Be ye more staid,
O Christians, not, like feather, by each wind
Removable: nor think to cleanse ourselves
In every water.  Either testament,
The old and new, is yours: and for your guide
The shepherd of the church let this suffice
To save you.  When by evil lust entic'd,
Remember ye be men, not senseless beasts;
Nor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets,
Hold you in mock'ry.  Be not, as the lamb,
That, fickle wanton, leaves its mother's milk,
To dally with itself in idle play."
     Such were the words that Beatrice spake:
These ended, to that region, where the world
Is liveliest, full of fond desire she turn'd.
     Though mainly prompt new question to propose,
Her silence and chang'd look did keep me dumb.
And as the arrow, ere the cord is still,
Leapeth unto its mark; so on we sped
Into the second realm.  There I beheld
The dame, so joyous enter, that the orb
Grew brighter at her smiles; and, if the star
Were mov'd to gladness, what then was my cheer,
Whom nature hath made apt for every change!
     As in a quiet and clear lake the fish,
If aught approach them from without, do draw
Towards it, deeming it their food; so drew
Full more than thousand splendours towards us,
And in each one was heard:  "Lo!  one arriv'd
To multiply our loves!" and as each came
The shadow, streaming forth effulgence new,
Witness'd augmented joy.  Here, reader!  think,
If thou didst miss the sequel of my tale,
To know the rest how sorely thou wouldst crave;
And thou shalt see what vehement desire
Possess'd me, as soon as these had met my view,
To know their state.  "O born in happy hour!
Thou to whom grace vouchsafes, or ere thy close
Of fleshly warfare, to behold the thrones
Of that eternal triumph, know to us
The light communicated, which through heaven
Expatiates without bound.  Therefore, if aught
Thou of our beams wouldst borrow for thine aid,
Spare not; and of our radiance take thy fill."
     Thus of those piteous spirits one bespake me;
And Beatrice next:  "Say on; and trust
As unto gods!" --"How in the light supreme
Thou harbour'st, and from thence the virtue bring'st,
That, sparkling in thine eyes, denotes thy joy,
l mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek;
Or wherefore, worthy spirit!  for thy lot
This sphere assign'd, that oft from mortal ken
Is veil'd by others' beams."  I said, and turn'd
Toward the lustre, that with greeting, kind
Erewhile had hail'd me.  Forthwith brighter far
Than erst, it wax'd:  and, as himself the sun
Hides through excess of light, when his warm gaze
Hath on the mantle of thick vapours prey'd;
Within its proper ray the saintly shape
Was, through increase of gladness, thus conceal'd;
And, shrouded so in splendour answer'd me,
E'en as the tenour of my song declares.
"After that Constantine the eagle turn'd
Against the motions of the heav'n, that roll'd
Consenting with its course, when he of yore,
Lavinia's spouse, was leader of the flight,
A hundred years twice told and more, his seat
At Europe's extreme point, the bird of Jove
Held, near the mountains, whence he issued first.
There, under shadow of his sacred plumes
Swaying the world, till through successive hands
To mine he came devolv'd.  Caesar I was,
And am Justinian; destin'd by the will
Of that prime love, whose influence I feel,
From vain excess to clear th' encumber'd laws.
Or ere that work engag'd me, I did hold
Christ's nature merely human, with such faith
Contented.  But the blessed Agapete,
Who was chief shepherd, he with warning voice
To the true faith recall'd me.  I believ'd
His words: and what he taught, now plainly see,
As thou in every contradiction seest
The true and false oppos'd.  Soon as my feet
Were to the church reclaim'd, to my great task,
By inspiration of God's grace impell'd,
I gave me wholly, and consign'd mine arms
To Belisarius, with whom heaven's right hand
Was link'd in such conjointment, 't was a sign
That I should rest.  To thy first question thus
I shape mine answer, which were ended here,
But that its tendency doth prompt perforce
To some addition; that thou well, mayst mark
What reason on each side they have to plead,
By whom that holiest banner is withstood,
Both who pretend its power and who oppose.
    "Beginning from that hour, when Pallas died
To give it rule, behold the valorous deeds
Have made it worthy reverence.  Not unknown
To thee, how for three hundred years and more
It dwelt in Alba, up to those fell lists
Where for its sake were met the rival three;
Nor aught unknown to thee, which it achiev'd
Down to the Sabines' wrong to Lucrece' woe,
With its sev'n kings conqu'ring the nation round;
Nor all it wrought, by Roman worthies home
'Gainst Brennus and th' Epirot prince, and hosts
Of single chiefs, or states in league combin'd
Of social warfare; hence Torquatus stern,
And Quintius nam'd of his neglected locks,
The Decii, and the Fabii hence acquir'd
Their fame, which I with duteous zeal embalm.
By it the pride of Arab hordes was quell'd,
When they led on by Hannibal o'erpass'd
The Alpine rocks, whence glide thy currents, Po!
Beneath its guidance, in their prime of days
Scipio and Pompey triumph'd; and that hill,
Under whose summit thou didst see the light,
Rued its stern bearing.  After, near the hour,
When heav'n was minded that o'er all the world
His own deep calm should brood, to Caesar's hand
Did Rome consign it; and what then it wrought
From Var unto the Rhine, saw Isere's flood,
Saw Loire and Seine, and every vale, that fills
The torrent Rhone.  What after that it wrought,
When from Ravenna it came forth, and leap'd
The Rubicon, was of so bold a flight,
That tongue nor pen may follow it.  Tow'rds Spain
It wheel'd its bands, then tow'rd Dyrrachium smote,
And on Pharsalia with so fierce a plunge,
E'en the warm Nile was conscious to the pang;
Its native shores Antandros, and the streams
Of Simois revisited, and there
Where Hector lies; then ill for Ptolemy
His pennons shook again; lightning thence fell
On Juba; and the next upon your west,
At sound of the Pompeian trump, return'd.
     "What following and in its next bearer's gripe
It wrought, is now by Cassius and Brutus
Bark'd off in hell, and by Perugia's sons
And Modena's was mourn'd.  Hence weepeth still
Sad Cleopatra, who, pursued by it,
Took from the adder black and sudden death.
With him it ran e'en to the Red Sea coast;
With him compos'd the world to such a peace,
That of his temple Janus barr'd the door.
     "But all the mighty standard yet had wrought,
And was appointed to perform thereafter,
Throughout the mortal kingdom which it sway'd,
Falls in appearance dwindled and obscur'd,
If one with steady eye and perfect thought
On the third Caesar look; for to his hands,
The living Justice, in whose breath I move,
Committed glory, e'en into his hands,
To execute the vengeance of its wrath.
     "Hear now and wonder at what next I tell.
After with Titus it was sent to wreak
Vengeance for vengeance of the ancient sin,
And, when the Lombard tooth, with fangs impure,
Did gore the bosom of the holy church,
Under its wings victorious, Charlemagne
Sped to her rescue.  Judge then for thyself
Of those, whom I erewhile accus'd to thee,
What they are, and how grievous their offending,
Who are the cause of all your ills.  The one
Against the universal ensign rears
The yellow lilies, and with partial aim
That to himself the other arrogates:
So that 't is hard to see which more offends.
Be yours, ye Ghibellines, to veil your arts
Beneath another standard: ill is this
Follow'd of him, who severs it and justice:
And let not with his Guelphs the new-crown'd Charles
Assail it, but those talons hold in dread,
Which from a lion of more lofty port
Have rent the easing.  Many a time ere now
The sons have for the sire's transgression wail'd;
Nor let him trust the fond belief, that heav'n
Will truck its armour for his lilied shield.
     "This little star is furnish'd with good spirits,
Whose mortal lives were busied to that end,
That honour and renown might wait on them:
And, when desires thus err in their intention,
True love must needs ascend with slacker beam.
But it is part of our delight, to measure
Our wages with the merit; and admire
The close proportion.  Hence doth heav'nly justice
Temper so evenly affection in us,
It ne'er can warp to any wrongfulness.
Of diverse voices is sweet music made:
So in our life the different degrees
Render sweet harmony among these wheels.
     "Within the pearl, that now encloseth us,
Shines Romeo's light, whose goodly deed and fair
Met ill acceptance.  But the Provencals,
That were his foes, have little cause for mirth.
Ill shapes that man his course, who makes his wrong
Of other's worth.  Four daughters were there born
To Raymond Berenger, and every one
Became a queen; and this for him did Romeo,
Though of mean state and from a foreign land.
Yet envious tongues incited him to ask
A reckoning of that just one, who return'd
Twelve fold to him for ten.  Aged and poor
He parted thence: and if the world did know
The heart he had, begging his life by morsels,
'T would deem the praise, it yields him, scantly dealt."
"Hosanna Sanctus Deus Sabaoth
Superillustrans claritate tua
Felices ignes horum malahoth!"
Thus chanting saw I turn that substance bright
With fourfold lustre to its orb again,
Revolving; and the rest unto their dance
With it mov'd also; and like swiftest sparks,
In sudden distance from my sight were veil'd.
     Me doubt possess'd, and "Speak," it whisper'd me,
"Speak, speak unto thy lady, that she quench
Thy thirst with drops of sweetness."  Yet blank awe,
Which lords it o'er me, even at the sound
Of Beatrice's name, did bow me down
As one in slumber held.  Not long that mood
Beatrice suffer'd:  she, with such a smile,
As might have made one blest amid the flames,
Beaming upon me, thus her words began:
"Thou in thy thought art pond'ring (as I deem,
And what I deem is truth how just revenge
Could be with justice punish'd:  from which doubt
I soon will free thee; so thou mark my words;
For they of weighty matter shall possess thee.
     "That man, who was unborn, himself condemn'd,
And, in himself, all, who since him have liv'd,
His offspring: whence, below, the human kind
Lay sick in grievous error many an age;
Until it pleas'd the Word of God to come
Amongst them down, to his own person joining
The nature, from its Maker far estrang'd,
By the mere act of his eternal love.
Contemplate here the wonder I unfold.
The nature with its Maker thus conjoin'd,
Created first was blameless, pure and good;
But through itself alone was driven forth
From Paradise, because it had eschew'd
The way of truth and life, to evil turn'd.
Ne'er then was penalty so just as that
Inflicted by the cross, if thou regard
The nature in assumption doom'd: ne'er wrong
So great, in reference to him, who took
Such nature on him, and endur'd the doom.
God therefore and the Jews one sentence pleased:
So different effects flow'd from one act,
And heav'n was open'd, though the earth did quake.
Count it not hard henceforth, when thou dost hear
That a just vengeance was by righteous court
Justly reveng'd.  But yet I see thy mind
By thought on thought arising sore perplex'd,
And with how vehement desire it asks
Solution of the maze.  What I have heard,
Is plain, thou sayst:  but wherefore God this way
For our redemption chose, eludes my search.
     "Brother!  no eye of man not perfected,
Nor fully ripen'd in the flame of love,
May fathom this decree.  It is a mark,
In sooth, much aim'd at, and but little kenn'd:
And I will therefore show thee why such way
Was worthiest.  The celestial love, that spume
All envying in its bounty, in itself
With such effulgence blazeth, as sends forth
All beauteous things eternal.  What distils
Immediate thence, no end of being knows,
Bearing its seal immutably impress'd.
Whatever thence immediate falls, is free,
Free wholly, uncontrollable by power
Of each thing new: by such conformity
More grateful to its author, whose bright beams,
Though all partake their shining, yet in those
Are liveliest, which resemble him the most.
These tokens of pre-eminence on man
Largely bestow'd, if any of them fail,
He needs must forfeit his nobility,
No longer stainless.  Sin alone is that,
Which doth disfranchise him, and make unlike
To the chief good; for that its light in him
Is darken'd.  And to dignity thus lost
Is no return; unless, where guilt makes void,
He for ill pleasure pay with equal pain.
Your nature, which entirely in its seed
Trangress'd, from these distinctions fell, no less
Than from its state in Paradise; nor means
Found of recovery (search all methods out
As strickly as thou may) save one of these,
The only fords were left through which to wade,
Either that God had of his courtesy
Releas'd him merely, or else man himself
For his own folly by himself aton'd.
     "Fix now thine eye, intently as thou canst,
On th' everlasting counsel, and explore,
Instructed by my words, the dread abyss.
     "Man in himself had ever lack'd the means
Of satisfaction, for he could not stoop
Obeying, in humility so low,
As high he, disobeying, thought to soar:
And for this reason he had vainly tried
Out of his own sufficiency to pay
The rigid satisfaction.  Then behooved
That God should by his own ways lead him back
Unto the life, from whence he fell, restor'd:
By both his ways, I mean, or one alone.
But since the deed is ever priz'd the more,
The more the doer's good intent appears,
Goodness celestial, whose broad signature
Is on the universe, of all its ways
To raise ye up, was fain to leave out none,
Nor aught so vast or so magnificent,
Either for him who gave or who receiv'd
Between the last night and the primal day,
Was or can be.  For God more bounty show'd.
Giving himself to make man capable
Of his return to life, than had the terms
Been mere and unconditional release.
And for his justice, every method else
Were all too scant, had not the Son of God
Humbled himself to put on mortal flesh.
     "Now, to fulfil each wish of thine, remains
I somewhat further to thy view unfold.
That thou mayst see as clearly as myself.
     "I see, thou sayst, the air, the fire I see,
The earth and water, and all things of them
Compounded, to corruption turn, and soon
Dissolve.  Yet these were also things create,
Because, if what were told me, had been true
They from corruption had been therefore free.
     "The angels, O my brother!  and this clime
Wherein thou art, impassible and pure,
I call created, as indeed they are
In their whole being.  But the elements,
Which thou hast nam'd, and what of them is made,
Are by created virtue' inform'd: create
Their substance, and create the' informing virtue
In these bright stars, that round them circling move
The soul of every brute and of each plant,
The ray and motion of the sacred lights,
With complex potency attract and turn.
But this our life the' eternal good inspires
Immediate, and enamours of itself;
So that our wishes rest for ever here.
     "And hence thou mayst by inference conclude
Our resurrection certain, if thy mind
Consider how the human flesh was fram'd,
When both our parents at the first were made."
The world was in its day of peril dark
Wont to believe the dotage of fond love
From the fair Cyprian deity, who rolls
In her third epicycle, shed on men
By stream of potent radiance: therefore they
Of elder time, in their old error blind,
Not her alone with sacrifice ador'd
And invocation, but like honours paid
To Cupid and Dione, deem'd of them
Her mother, and her son, him whom they feign'd
To sit in Dido's bosom: and from her,
Whom I have sung preluding, borrow'd they
The appellation of that star, which views,
Now obvious and now averse, the sun.
     I was not ware that I was wafted up
Into  its orb; but the new loveliness
That grac'd my lady, gave me ample proof
That we had entered there.  And as in flame
A sparkle is distinct, or voice in voice
Discern'd, when one its even tenour keeps,
The other comes and goes; so in that light
I other luminaries saw, that cours'd
In circling motion. rapid more or less,
As their eternal phases each impels.
     Never was blast from vapour charged with cold,
Whether invisible to eye or no,
Descended with such speed, it had not seem'd
To linger in dull tardiness, compar'd
To those celestial lights, that tow'rds us came,
Leaving the circuit of their joyous ring,
Conducted by the lofty seraphim.
And after them, who in the van appear'd,
Such an hosanna sounded, as hath left
Desire, ne'er since extinct in me, to hear
Renew'd the strain.  Then parting from the rest
One near us drew, and sole began:  "We all
Are ready at thy pleasure, well dispos'd
To do thee gentle service.  We are they,
To whom thou in the world erewhile didst Sing
'O ye!  whose intellectual ministry
Moves the third heaven!' and in one orb we roll,
One motion, one impulse, with those who rule
Princedoms in heaven; yet are of love so full,
That to please thee 't will be as sweet to rest."
     After mine eyes had with meek reverence
Sought the celestial guide, and were by her
Assur'd, they turn'd again unto the light
Who had so largely promis'd, and with voice
That bare the lively pressure of my zeal,
"Tell who ye are," I cried.  Forthwith it grew
In size and splendour, through augmented joy;
And thus it answer'd:  "A short date below
The world possess'd me.  Had the time been more,
Much evil, that will come, had never chanc'd.
My gladness hides thee from me, which doth shine  .
Around, and shroud me, as an animal
In its own silk enswath'd.  Thou lov'dst me well,
And had'st good cause; for had my sojourning
Been longer on the earth, the love I bare thee
Had put forth more than blossoms.  The left bank,
That Rhone, when he hath mix'd with Sorga, laves.
In me its lord expected, and that horn
Of fair Ausonia, with its boroughs old,
Bari, and Croton, and Gaeta pil'd,
From where the Trento disembogues his waves,
With Verde mingled, to the salt sea-flood.
Already on my temples beam'd the crown,
Which gave me sov'reignty over the land
By Danube wash'd, whenas he strays beyond
The limits of his German shores.  The realm,
Where, on the gulf by stormy Eurus lash'd,
Betwixt Pelorus and Pachynian heights,
The beautiful Trinacria lies in gloom
(Not through Typhaeus, but the vap'ry cloud
Bituminous upsteam'd), THAT too did look
To have its scepter wielded by a race
Of monarchs, sprung through me from Charles and Rodolph;
had not ill lording which doth spirit up
The people ever, in Palermo rais'd
The shout of 'death,' re-echo'd loud and long.
Had but my brother's foresight kenn'd as much,
He had been warier that the greedy want
Of Catalonia might not work his bale.
And truly need there is, that he forecast,
Or other for him, lest more freight be laid
On his already over-laden bark.
Nature in him, from bounty fall'n to thrift,
Would ask the  guard of braver arms, than such
As only care to have their coffers fill'd."
     "My liege, it doth enhance the joy thy words
Infuse into me, mighty as it is,
To think my gladness manifest to thee,
As to myself, who own it, when thou lookst
Into the source and limit of all good,
There, where thou markest that which thou dost speak,
Thence priz'd of me the more.  Glad thou hast made me.
Now make intelligent, clearing the doubt
Thy speech hath raised in me; for much I muse,
How bitter can spring up, when sweet is sown."
     I thus inquiring; he forthwith replied:
"If I have power to show one truth, soon that
Shall face thee, which thy questioning declares
Behind thee now conceal'd.  The Good, that guides
And blessed makes this realm, which thou dost mount,
Ordains its providence to be the virtue
In these great bodies: nor th' all perfect Mind
Upholds their nature merely, but in them
Their energy to save: for nought, that lies
Within the range of that unerring bow,
But is as level with the destin'd aim,
As ever mark to arrow's point oppos'd.
Were it not thus, these heavens, thou dost visit,
Would their effect so work, it would not be
Art, but destruction; and this may not chance,
If th' intellectual powers, that move these stars,
Fail not, or who, first faulty made them fail.
Wilt thou this truth more clearly evidenc'd?"
     To whom I thus:  "It is enough: no fear,
I see, lest nature in her part should tire."
     He straight rejoin'd:  "Say, were it worse for man,
If he liv'd not in fellowship on earth?"
     "Yea," answer'd I;  "nor here a reason needs."
     "And may that be, if different estates
Grow not of different duties in your life?
Consult your teacher, and he tells you 'no."'
     Thus did he come, deducing to this point,
And then concluded:  "For this cause behooves,
The roots, from whence your operations come,
Must differ.  Therefore one is Solon born;
Another, Xerxes; and Melchisidec
A third; and he a fourth, whose airy voyage
Cost him his son.  In her circuitous course,
Nature, that is the seal to mortal wax,
Doth well her art, but no distinctions owns
'Twixt one or other household.  Hence befalls
That Esau is so wide of Jacob:  hence
Quirinus of so base a father springs,
He dates from Mars his lineage.  Were it not
That providence celestial overrul'd,
Nature, in generation, must the path
Trac'd by the generator, still pursue
Unswervingly.  Thus place I in thy sight
That, which was late behind thee.  But, in sign
Of more affection for thee, 't is my will
Thou wear this corollary.  Nature ever
Finding discordant fortune, like all seed
Out of its proper climate, thrives but ill.
And were the world below content to mark
And work on the foundation nature lays,
It would not lack supply of excellence.
But ye perversely to religion strain
Him, who was born to gird on him the sword,
And of the fluent phrasemen make your king;
Therefore your steps have wander'd from the paths."
After solution of my doubt, thy Charles,
O fair Clemenza, of the treachery spake
That must befall his seed:  but, "Tell it not,"
Said he, "and let the destin'd years come round."
Nor may I tell thee more, save that the meed
Of sorrow well-deserv'd shall quit your wrongs.
     And now the visage of that saintly light
Was to the sun, that fills it, turn'd again,
As to the good, whose plenitude of bliss
Sufficeth all.  O ye misguided souls!
Infatuate, who from such a good estrange
Your hearts, and bend your gaze on vanity,
Alas for you!--And lo!  toward me, next,
Another of those splendent forms approach'd,
That, by its outward bright'ning, testified
The will it had to pleasure me.  The eyes
Of Beatrice, resting, as before,
Firmly upon me, manifested forth
Approva1 of my wish.  "And O," I cried,
Blest spirit!  quickly be my will perform'd;
And prove thou to me, that my inmost thoughts
I can reflect on thee."  Thereat the light,
That yet was new to me, from the recess,
Where it before was singing, thus began,
As one who joys in kindness:  "In that part
Of the deprav'd Italian land, which lies
Between Rialto, and the fountain-springs
Of Brenta and of Piava, there doth rise,
But to no lofty eminence, a hill,
From whence erewhile a firebrand did descend,
That sorely sheet the region.  From one root
I and it sprang; my name on earth Cunizza:
And here I glitter, for that by its light
This star o'ercame me.  Yet I naught repine,
Nor grudge myself the cause of this my lot,
Which haply vulgar hearts can scarce conceive.
     "This jewel, that is next me in our heaven,
Lustrous and costly, great renown hath left,
And not to perish, ere these hundred years
Five times absolve their round.  Consider thou,
If to excel be worthy man's endeavour,
When such life may attend the first.  Yet they
Care not for this, the crowd that now are girt
By Adice and Tagliamento, still
Impenitent, tho' scourg'd.  The hour is near,
When for their stubbornness at Padua's marsh
The water shall be chang'd, that laves Vicena
And where Cagnano meets with Sile, one
Lords it, and bears his head aloft, for whom
The web is now a-warping.  Feltro too
Shall sorrow for its godless shepherd's fault,
Of so deep stain, that never, for the like,
Was Malta's bar unclos'd.  Too large should be
The skillet, that would hold Ferrara's blood,
And wearied he, who ounce by ounce would weight it,
The which this priest, in show of party-zeal,
Courteous will give; nor will the gift ill suit
The country's custom.  We descry above,
Mirrors, ye call them thrones, from which to us
Reflected shine the judgments of our God:
Whence these our sayings we avouch for good."
     She ended, and appear'd on other thoughts
Intent, re-ent'ring on the wheel she late
Had left.  That other joyance meanwhile wax'd
A thing to marvel at, in splendour glowing,
Like choicest ruby stricken by the sun,
For, in that upper clime, effulgence comes
Of gladness, as here laughter: and below,
As the mind saddens, murkier grows the shade.
     "God seeth all:  and in him is thy sight,"
Said I, "blest Spirit!  Therefore will of his
Cannot to thee be dark.  Why then delays
Thy voice to satisfy my wish untold,
That voice which joins the inexpressive song,
Pastime of heav'n, the which those ardours sing,
That cowl them with six shadowing wings outspread?
I would not wait thy asking, wert thou known
To me, as thoroughly I to thee am known.''
     He forthwith answ'ring, thus his words began:
"The valley' of waters, widest next to that
Which doth the earth engarland, shapes its course,
Between discordant shores, against the sun
Inward so far, it makes meridian there,
Where was before th' horizon.  Of that vale
Dwelt I upon the shore, 'twixt Ebro's stream
And Macra's, that divides with passage brief
Genoan bounds from Tuscan.  East and west
Are nearly one to Begga and my land,
Whose haven erst was with its own blood warm.
Who knew my name were wont to call me Folco:
And I did bear impression of this heav'n,
That now bears mine: for not with fiercer flame
Glow'd Belus' daughter, injuring alike
Sichaeus and Creusa, than did I,
Long as it suited the unripen'd down
That fledg'd my cheek: nor she of Rhodope,
That was beguiled of Demophoon;
Nor Jove's son, when the charms of Iole
Were shrin'd within his heart.  And yet there hides
No sorrowful repentance here, but mirth,
Not for the fault (that doth not come to mind),
But for the virtue, whose o'erruling sway
And providence have wrought thus quaintly.  Here
The skill is look'd into, that fashioneth
With such effectual working, and the good
Discern'd, accruing to this upper world
From that below.  But fully to content
Thy wishes, all that in this sphere have birth,
Demands my further parle.  Inquire thou wouldst,
Who of this light is denizen, that here
Beside me sparkles, as the sun-beam doth
On the clear wave.  Know then, the soul of Rahab
Is in that gladsome harbour, to our tribe
United, and the foremost rank assign'd.
He to that heav'n, at which the shadow ends
Of your sublunar world, was taken up,
First, in Christ's triumph, of all souls redeem'd:
For well behoov'd, that, in some part of heav'n,
She should remain a trophy, to declare
The mighty contest won with either palm;
For that she favour'd first the high exploit
Of Joshua on the holy land, whereof
The Pope recks little now.  Thy city, plant
Of him, that on his Maker turn'd the back,
And of whose envying so much woe hath sprung,
Engenders and expands the cursed flower,
That hath made wander both the sheep and lambs,
Turning the shepherd to a wolf.  For this,
The gospel and great teachers laid aside,
The decretals, as their stuft margins show,
Are the sole study.  Pope and Cardinals,
Intent on these, ne'er journey but in thought
To Nazareth, where Gabriel op'd his wings.
Yet it may chance, erelong, the Vatican,
And other most selected parts of Rome,
That were the grave of Peter's soldiery,
Shall be deliver'd from the adult'rous bond."
Looking into his first-born with the love,
Which breathes from both eternal, the first Might
Ineffable, whence eye or mind
Can roam, hath in such order all dispos'd,
As none may see and fail to' enjoy.  Raise, then,
O reader!  to the lofty wheels, with me,
Thy ken directed to the point, whereat
One motion strikes on th' other.  There begin
Thy wonder of the mighty Architect,
Who loves his work so inwardly, his eye
Doth ever watch it.  See, how thence oblique
Brancheth the circle, where the planets roll
To pour their wished influence on the world;
Whose path not bending thus, in heav'n above
Much virtue would be lost, and here on earth,
All power well nigh extinct: or, from direct
Were its departure distant more or less,
I' th' universal order, great defect
Must, both in heav'n and here beneath, ensue.
     Now rest thee, reader!  on thy bench, and muse
Anticipative of the feast to come;
So shall delight make thee not feel thy toil.
Lo!  I have set before thee, for thyself
Feed now: the matter I indite, henceforth
Demands entire my thought.  Join'd with the part,
Which late we told of, the great minister
Of nature, that upon the world imprints
The virtue of the heaven, and doles out
Time for us with his beam, went circling on
Along the spires, where each hour sooner comes;
And I was with him, weetless of ascent,
As one, who till arriv'd, weets not his coming.
     For Beatrice, she who passeth on
So suddenly from good to better, time
Counts not the act, oh then how great must needs
Have been her brightness!  What she was i' th' sun
(Where I had enter'd), not through change of hue,
But light transparent--did I summon up
Genius, art, practice--I might not so speak,
It should be e'er imagin'd: yet believ'd
It may be, and the sight be justly crav'd.
And if our fantasy fail of such height,
What marvel, since no eye above the sun
Hath ever travel'd?  Such are they dwell here,
Fourth family of the Omnipotent Sire,
Who of his spirit and of his offspring shows;
And holds them still enraptur'd with the view.
And thus to me Beatrice:  "Thank, oh thank,
The Sun of angels, him, who by his grace
To this perceptible hath lifted thee."
     Never was heart in such devotion bound,
And with complacency so absolute
Dispos'd to render up itself to God,
As mine was at those words: and so entire
The love for Him, that held me, it eclips'd
Beatrice in oblivion.  Naught displeas'd
Was she, but smil'd thereat so joyously,
That of her laughing eyes the radiance brake
And scatter'd my collected mind abroad.
     Then saw I a bright band, in liveliness
Surpassing, who themselves did make the crown,
And us their centre: yet more sweet in voice,
Than in their visage beaming.  Cinctur'd thus,
Sometime Latona's daughter we behold,
When the impregnate air retains the thread,
That weaves her zone.  In the celestial court,
Whence I return, are many jewels found,
So dear and beautiful, they cannot brook
Transporting from that realm: and of these lights
Such was the song.  Who doth not prune his wing
To soar up thither, let him look from thence
For tidings from the dumb.  When, singing thus,
Those burning suns that circled round us thrice,
As nearest stars around the fixed pole,
Then seem'd they like to ladies, from the dance
Not ceasing, but suspense, in silent pause,
List'ning, till they have caught the strain anew:
Suspended so they stood: and, from within,
Thus heard I one, who spake:  "Since with its beam
The grace, whence true love lighteth first his flame,
That after doth increase by loving, shines
So multiplied in thee, it leads thee up
Along this ladder, down whose hallow'd steps
None e'er descend, and mount them not again,
Who from his phial should refuse thee wine
To slake thy thirst, no less constrained were,
Than water flowing not unto the sea.
Thou fain wouldst hear, what plants are these, that bloom
In the bright garland, which, admiring, girds
This fair dame round, who strengthens thee for heav'n.
I then was of the lambs, that Dominic
Leads, for his saintly flock, along the way,
Where well they thrive, not sworn with vanity.
He, nearest on my right hand, brother was,
And master to me:  Albert of Cologne
Is this:  and of Aquinum, Thomas I.
If thou of all the rest wouldst be assur'd,
Let thine eye, waiting on the words I speak,
In circuit journey round the blessed wreath.
That next resplendence issues from the smile
Of Gratian, who to either forum lent
Such help, as favour wins in Paradise.
The other, nearest, who adorns our quire,
Was Peter, he that with the widow gave
To holy church his treasure.  The fifth light,
Goodliest of all, is by such love inspired,
That all your world craves tidings of its doom:
Within, there is the lofty light, endow'd
With sapience so profound, if truth be truth,
That with a ken of such wide amplitude
No second hath arisen.  Next behold
That taper's radiance, to whose view was shown,
Clearliest, the nature and the ministry
Angelical, while yet in flesh it dwelt.
In the other little light serenely smiles
That pleader for the Christian temples, he
Who did provide Augustin of his lore.
Now, if thy mind's eye pass from light to light,
Upon my praises following, of the eighth
Thy thirst is next.  The saintly soul, that shows
The world's deceitfulness, to all who hear him,
Is, with the sight of all the good, that is,
Blest there.  The limbs, whence it was driven, lie
Down in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom
And exile came it here.  Lo!  further on,
Where flames the arduous Spirit of Isidore,
Of Bede, and Richard, more than man, erewhile,
In deep discernment.  Lastly this, from whom
Thy look on me reverteth, was the beam
Of one, whose spirit, on high musings bent,
Rebuk'd the ling'ring tardiness of death.
It is the eternal light of Sigebert,
Who 'scap'd not envy, when of truth he argued,
Reading in the straw-litter'd street."  Forthwith,
As clock, that calleth up the spouse of God
To win her bridegroom's love at matin's hour,
Each part of other fitly drawn and urg'd,
Sends out a tinkling sound, of note so sweet,
Affection springs in well-disposed breast;
Thus saw I move the glorious wheel, thus heard
Voice answ'ring voice, so musical and soft,
It can be known but where day endless shines.
O fond anxiety of mortal men!
How vain and inconclusive arguments
Are those, which make thee beat thy wings below
For statues one, and one for aphorisms
Was hunting; this the priesthood follow'd, that
By force or sophistry aspir'd to rule;
To rob another, and another sought
By civil business wealth; one moiling lay
Tangled in net of sensual delight,
And one to witless indolence resign'd;
What time from all these empty things escap'd,
With Beatrice, I thus gloriously
Was rais'd aloft, and made the guest of heav'n.
     They of the circle to that point, each one.
Where erst it was, had turn'd; and steady glow'd,
As candle in his socket.  Then within
The lustre, that erewhile bespake me, smiling
With merer gladness, heard I thus begin:
     "E'en as his beam illumes me, so I look
Into the eternal light, and clearly mark
Thy thoughts, from whence they rise.  Thou art in doubt,
And wouldst, that I should bolt my words afresh
In such plain open phrase, as may be smooth
To thy perception, where I told thee late
That 'well they thrive;' and that 'no second such
Hath risen,' which no small distinction needs.
     "The providence, that governeth the world,
In depth of counsel by created ken
Unfathomable, to the end that she,
Who with loud cries was 'spous'd in precious blood,
Might keep her footing towards her well-belov'd,
Safe in herself and constant unto him,
Hath two ordain'd, who should on either hand
In chief escort her: one seraphic all
In fervency; for wisdom upon earth,
The other splendour of cherubic light.
I but of one will tell:  he tells of both,
Who one commendeth. which of them so'er
Be taken:  for their deeds were to one end.
     "Between Tupino, and the wave, that falls
From blest Ubaldo's chosen hill, there hangs
Rich slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold
Are wafted through Perugia's eastern gate:
And Norcera with Gualdo, in its rear
Mourn for their heavy yoke.  Upon that side,
Where it doth break its steepness most, arose
A sun upon the world, as duly this
From Ganges doth:  therefore let none, who speak
Of that place, say Ascesi; for its name
Were lamely so deliver'd; but the East,
To call things rightly, be it henceforth styl'd.
He was not yet much distant from his rising,
When his good influence 'gan to bless the earth.
A dame to whom none openeth pleasure's gate
More than to death, was, 'gainst his father's will,
His stripling choice: and he did make her his,
Before the Spiritual court, by nuptial bonds,
And in his father's sight:  from day to day,
Then lov'd her more devoutly.  She, bereav'd
Of her first husband, slighted and obscure,
Thousand and hundred years and more, remain'd
Without a single suitor, till he came.
Nor aught avail'd, that, with Amyclas, she
Was found unmov'd at rumour of his voice,
Who shook the world: nor aught her constant boldness
Whereby with Christ she mounted on the cross,
When Mary stay'd beneath.  But not to deal
Thus closely with thee longer, take at large
The rovers' titles--Poverty and Francis.
Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love,
And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts,
So much, that venerable Bernard first
Did bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peace
So heavenly, ran, yet deem'd his footing slow.
O hidden riches!  O prolific good!
Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester,
And follow both the bridegroom; so the bride
Can please them.  Thenceforth goes he on his way,
The father and the master, with his spouse,
And with that family, whom now the cord
Girt humbly: nor did abjectness of heart
Weigh down his eyelids, for that he was son
Of Pietro Bernardone, and by men
In wond'rous sort despis'd.  But royally
His hard intention he to Innocent
Set forth, and from him first receiv'd the seal
On his religion.  Then, when numerous flock'd
The tribe of lowly ones, that trac'd HIS steps,
Whose marvellous life deservedly were sung
In heights empyreal, through Honorius' hand
A second crown, to deck their Guardian's virtues,
Was by the eternal Spirit inwreath'd:  and when
He had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood up
In the proud Soldan's presence, and there preach'd
Christ and his followers; but found the race
Unripen'd for conversion:  back once more
He hasted (not to intermit his toil),
And reap'd Ausonian lands.  On the hard rock,
'Twixt Arno and the Tyber, he from Christ
Took the last Signet, which his limbs two years
Did carry.  Then the season come, that he,
Who to such good had destin'd him, was pleas'd
T' advance him to the meed, which he had earn'd
By his self-humbling, to his brotherhood,
As their just heritage, he gave in charge
His dearest lady, and enjoin'd their love
And faith to her:  and, from her bosom, will'd
His goodly spirit should move forth, returning
To its appointed kingdom, nor would have
His body laid upon another bier.
     "Think now of one, who were a fit colleague,
To keep the bark of Peter in deep sea
Helm'd to right point; and such our Patriarch was.
Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins,
Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in.
But hunger of new viands tempts his flock,
So that they needs into strange pastures wide
Must spread them:  and the more remote from him
The stragglers wander, so much mole they come
Home to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk.
There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm,
And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few,
A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.
     "Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta'en
Good heed, if that, which I have told, recall
To mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill'd:
For thou wilt see the point from whence they split,
Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies,
'That well they thrive not sworn with vanity."'
Soon as its final word the blessed flame
Had rais'd for utterance, straight the holy mill
Began to wheel, nor yet had once revolv'd,
Or ere another, circling, compass'd it,
Motion to motion, song to song, conjoining,
Song, that as much our muses doth excel,
Our Sirens with their tuneful pipes, as ray
Of primal splendour doth its faint reflex.
     As when, if Juno bid her handmaid forth,
Two arches parallel, and trick'd alike,
Span the thin cloud, the outer taking birth
From that within (in manner of that voice
Whom love did melt away, as sun the mist),
And they who gaze, presageful call to mind
The compact, made with Noah, of the world
No more to be o'erflow'd; about us thus
Of sempiternal roses, bending, wreath'd
Those garlands twain, and to the innermost
E'en thus th' external answered.  When the footing,
And other great festivity, of song,
And radiance, light with light accordant, each
Jocund and blythe, had at their pleasure still'd
(E'en as the eyes by quick volition mov'd,
Are shut and rais'd together), from the heart
Of one amongst the new lights mov'd a voice,
That made me seem like needle to the star,
In turning to its whereabout, and thus
Began:  "The love, that makes me beautiful,
Prompts me to tell of th' other guide, for whom
Such good of mine is spoken.  Where one is,
The other worthily should also be;
That as their warfare was alike, alike
Should be their glory.  Slow, and full of doubt,
And with thin ranks, after its banner mov'd
The army of Christ (which it so clearly cost
To reappoint), when its imperial Head,
Who reigneth ever, for the drooping host
Did make provision, thorough grace alone,
And not through its deserving.  As thou heard'st,
Two champions to the succour of his spouse
He sent, who by their deeds and words might join
Again his scatter'd people.  In that clime,
Where springs the pleasant west-wind to unfold
The fresh leaves, with which Europe sees herself
New-garmented; nor from those billows far,
Beyond whose chiding, after weary course,
The sun doth sometimes hide him, safe abides
The happy Callaroga, under guard
Of the great shield, wherein the lion lies
Subjected and supreme.  And there was born
The loving million of the Christian faith,
The hollow'd wrestler, gentle to his own,
And to his enemies terrible.  So replete
His soul with lively virtue, that when first
Created, even in the mother's womb,
It prophesied.  When, at the sacred font,
The spousals were complete 'twixt faith and him,
Where pledge of mutual safety was exchang'd,
The dame, who was his surety, in her sleep
Beheld the wondrous fruit, that was from him
And from his heirs to issue.  And that such
He might be construed, as indeed he was,
She was inspir'd to name him of his owner,
Whose he was wholly, and so call'd him Dominic.
And I speak of him, as the labourer,
Whom Christ in his own garden chose to be
His help-mate.  Messenger he seem'd, and friend
Fast-knit to Christ; and the first love he show'd,
Was after the first counsel that Christ gave.
Many a time his nurse, at entering found
That he had ris'n in silence, and was prostrate,
As who should say, "My errand was for this."
O happy father!  Felix rightly nam'd!
O favour'd mother!  rightly nam'd Joanna!
If that do mean, as men interpret it.
Not for the world's sake, for which now they pore
Upon Ostiense and Taddeo's page,
But for the real manna, soon he grew
Mighty in learning, and did set himself
To go about the vineyard, that soon turns
To wan and wither'd, if not tended well:
And from the see (whose bounty to the just
And needy is gone by, not through its fault,
But his who fills it basely), he besought,
No dispensation for commuted wrong,
Nor the first vacant fortune, nor the tenth),
That to God's paupers rightly appertain,
But, 'gainst an erring and degenerate world,
Licence to fight, in favour of that seed,
From which the twice twelve cions gird thee round.
Then, with sage doctrine and good will to help,
Forth on his great apostleship he far'd,
Like torrent bursting from a lofty vein;
And, dashing 'gainst the stocks of heresy,
Smote fiercest, where resistance was most stout.
Thence many rivulets have since been turn'd,
Over the garden Catholic to lead
Their living waters, and have fed its plants.
     "If such one wheel of that two-yoked car,
Wherein the holy church defended her,
And rode triumphant through the civil broil.
Thou canst not doubt its fellow's excellence,
Which Thomas, ere my coming, hath declar'd
So courteously unto thee.  But the track,
Which its smooth fellies made, is now deserted:
That mouldy mother is where late were lees.
His family, that wont to trace his path,
Turn backward, and invert their steps; erelong
To rue the gathering in of their ill crop,
When the rejected tares in vain shall ask
Admittance to the barn.  I question not
But he, who search'd our volume, leaf by leaf,
Might still find page with this inscription on't,
'I am as I was wont.'  Yet such were not
From Acquasparta nor Casale, whence
Of those, who come to meddle with the text,
One stretches and another cramps its rule.
Bonaventura's life in me behold,
From Bagnororegio, one, who in discharge
Of my great offices still laid aside
All sinister aim.  Illuminato here,
And Agostino join me:  two they were,
Among the first of those barefooted meek ones,
Who sought God's friendship in the cord: with them
Hugues of Saint Victor, Pietro Mangiadore,
And he of Spain in his twelve volumes shining,
Nathan the prophet, Metropolitan
Chrysostom, and Anselmo, and, who deign'd
To put his hand to the first art, Donatus.
Raban is here:  and at my side there shines
Calabria's abbot, Joachim , endow'd
With soul prophetic.  The bright courtesy
Of friar Thomas, and his goodly lore,
Have mov'd me to the blazon of a peer
So worthy, and with me have mov'd this throng."
Let him, who would conceive what now I saw,
Imagine (and retain the image firm,
As mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak),
Of stars fifteen, from midst the ethereal host
Selected, that, with lively ray serene,
O'ercome the massiest air:  thereto imagine
The wain, that, in the bosom of our sky,
Spins ever on its axle night and day,
With the bright summit of that horn which swells
Due from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls,
T' have rang'd themselves in fashion of two signs
In heav'n, such as Ariadne made,
When death's chill seized her; and that one of them
Did compass in the other's beam; and both
In such sort whirl around, that each should tend
With opposite motion and, conceiving thus,
Of that true constellation, and the dance
Twofold, that circled me, he shall attain
As 't were the shadow; for things there as much
Surpass our usage, as the swiftest heav'n
Is swifter than the Chiana.  There was sung
No Bacchus, and no Io Paean, but
Three Persons in the Godhead, and in one
Substance that nature and the human join'd.
     The song fulfill'd its measure; and to us
Those saintly lights attended, happier made
At each new minist'ring.  Then silence brake,
Amid th' accordant sons of Deity,
That luminary, in which the wondrous life
Of the meek man of God was told to me;
And thus it spake:  "One ear o' th' harvest thresh'd,
And its grain safely stor'd, sweet charity
Invites me with the other to like toil.
     "Thou know'st, that in the bosom, whence the rib
Was ta'en to fashion that fair cheek, whose taste
All the world pays for, and in that, which pierc'd
By the keen lance, both after and before
Such satisfaction offer'd, as outweighs
Each evil in the scale, whate'er of light
To human nature is allow'd, must all
Have by his virtue been infus'd, who form'd
Both one and other: and thou thence admir'st
In that I told thee, of beatitudes
A second, there is none, to his enclos'd
In the fifth radiance.  Open now thine eyes
To what I answer thee; and thou shalt see
Thy deeming and my saying meet in truth,
As centre in the round.  That which dies not,
And that which can die, are but each the beam
Of that idea, which our Soverign Sire
Engendereth loving; for that lively light,
Which passeth from his brightness; not disjoin'd
From him, nor from his love triune with them,
Doth, through his bounty, congregate itself,
Mirror'd, as 't were in new existences,
Itself unalterable and ever one.
     "Descending hence unto the lowest powers,
Its energy so sinks, at last it makes
But brief contingencies:  for so I name
Things generated, which the heav'nly orbs
Moving, with seed or without seed, produce.
Their wax, and that which molds it, differ much:
And thence with lustre, more or less, it shows
Th' ideal stamp impress: so that one tree
According to his kind, hath better fruit,
And worse: and, at your birth, ye, mortal men,
Are in your talents various.  Were the wax
Molded with nice exactness, and the heav'n
In its disposing influence supreme,
The lustre of the seal should be complete:
But nature renders it imperfect ever,
Resembling thus the artist in her work,
Whose faultering hand is faithless to his skill.
Howe'er, if love itself dispose, and mark
The primal virtue, kindling with bright view,
There all perfection is vouchsafed; and such
The clay was made, accomplish'd with each gift,
That life can teem with; such the burden fill'd
The virgin's bosom: so that I commend
Thy judgment, that the human nature ne'er
Was or can be, such as in them it was.
     "Did I advance no further than this point,
'How then had he no peer?'  thou might'st reply.
But, that what now appears not, may appear
Right plainly, ponder, who he was, and what
(When he was bidden 'Ask' ), the motive sway'd
To his requesting.  I have spoken thus,
That thou mayst see, he was a king, who ask'd
For wisdom, to the end he might be king
Sufficient: not the number to search out
Of the celestial movers; or to know,
If necessary with contingent e'er
Have made necessity; or whether that
Be granted, that first motion is; or if
Of the mid circle can, by art, be made
Triangle with each corner, blunt or sharp.
     "Whence, noting that, which I have said, and this,
Thou kingly prudence and that ken mayst learn,
At which the dart of my intention aims.
And, marking clearly, that I told thee, 'Risen,'
Thou shalt discern it only hath respect
To kings, of whom are many, and the good
Are rare.  With this distinction take my words;
And they may well consist with that which thou
Of the first human father dost believe,
And of our well-beloved.  And let this
Henceforth be led unto thy feet, to make
Thee slow in motion, as a weary man,
Both to the 'yea' and to the 'nay' thou seest not.
For he among the fools is down full low,
Whose affirmation, or denial, is
Without distinction, in each case alike
Since it befalls, that in most instances
Current opinion leads to false: and then
Affection bends the judgment to her ply.
     "Much more than vainly doth he loose from shore,
Since he returns not such as he set forth,
Who fishes for the truth and wanteth skill.
And open proofs of this unto the world
Have been afforded in Parmenides,
Melissus, Bryso, and the crowd beside,
Who journey'd on, and knew not whither: so did
Sabellius, Arius, and the other fools,
Who, like to scymitars, reflected back
The scripture-image, by distortion marr'd.
     "Let not the people be too swift to judge,
As one who reckons on the blades in field,
Or ere the crop be ripe.  For I have seen
The thorn frown rudely all the winter long
And after bear the rose upon its top;
And bark, that all the way across the sea
Ran straight and speedy, perish at the last,
E'en in the haven's mouth seeing one steal,
Another brine, his offering to the priest,
Let not Dame Birtha and Sir Martin thence
Into heav'n's counsels deem that they can pry:
For one of these may rise, the other fall."
From centre to the circle, and so back
From circle to the centre, water moves
In the round chalice, even as the blow
Impels it, inwardly, or from without.
Such was the image glanc'd into my mind,
As the great spirit of Aquinum ceas'd;
And Beatrice after him her words
Resum'd alternate:  "Need there is (tho' yet
He tells it to you not in words, nor e'en
In thought) that he should fathom to its depth
Another mystery.  Tell him, if the light,
Wherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with you
Eternally, as now: and, if it doth,
How, when ye shall regain your visible forms,
The sight may without harm endure the change,
That also tell."  As those, who in a ring
Tread the light measure, in their fitful mirth
Raise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound;
Thus, at the hearing of that pious suit,
The saintly circles in their tourneying
And wond'rous note attested new delight.
     Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb
Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live
Immortally above, he hath not seen
The sweet refreshing, of that heav'nly shower.
     Him, who lives ever, and for ever reigns
In mystic union of the Three in One,
Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thrice
Sang, with such melody, as but to hear
For highest merit were an ample meed.
And from the lesser orb the goodliest light,
With gentle voice and mild, such as perhaps
The angel's once to Mary, thus replied:
"Long as the joy of Paradise shall last,
Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright,
As fervent; fervent, as in vision blest;
And that as far in blessedness exceeding,
As it hath grave beyond its virtue great.
Our shape, regarmented with glorious weeds
Of saintly flesh, must, being thus entire,
Show yet more gracious.  Therefore shall increase,
Whate'er of light, gratuitous, imparts
The Supreme Good; light, ministering aid,
The better disclose his glory: whence
The vision needs increasing, much increase
The fervour, which it kindles; and that too
The ray, that comes from it.  But as the greed
Which gives out flame, yet it its whiteness shines
More lively than that, and so preserves
Its proper semblance; thus this circling sphere
Of splendour, shall to view less radiant seem,
Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth
Now covers.  Nor will such excess of light
O'erpower us, in corporeal organs made
Firm, and susceptible of all delight."
     So ready and so cordial an "Amen,"
Followed from either choir, as plainly spoke
Desire of their dead bodies; yet perchance
Not for themselves, but for their kindred dear,
Mothers and sires, and those whom best they lov'd,
Ere they were made imperishable flame.
     And lo!  forthwith there rose up round about
A lustre over that already there,
Of equal clearness, like the brightening up
Of the horizon.  As at an evening hour
Of twilight, new appearances through heav'n
Peer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried;
So there new substances, methought began
To rise in view; and round the other twain
Enwheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.
     O gentle glitter of eternal beam!
With what a such whiteness did it flow,
O'erpowering vision in me!  But so fair,
So passing lovely, Beatrice show'd,
Mind cannot follow it, nor words express
Her infinite sweetness.  Thence mine eyes regain'd
Power to look up, and I beheld myself,
Sole with my lady, to more lofty bliss
Translated:  for the star, with warmer smile
Impurpled, well denoted our ascent.
     With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks
The same in all, an holocaust I made
To God, befitting the new grace vouchsaf'd.
And from my bosom had not yet upsteam'd
The fuming of that incense, when I knew
The rite accepted.  With such mighty sheen
And mantling crimson, in two listed rays
The splendours shot before me, that I cried,
"God of Sabaoth!  that does prank them thus!"
     As leads the galaxy from pole to pole,
Distinguish'd into greater lights and less,
Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell;
So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars,
Those rays describ'd the venerable sign,
That quadrants in the round conjoining frame.
Here memory mocks the toil of genius.  Christ
Beam'd on that cross; and pattern fails me now.
But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ
Will pardon me for that I leave untold,
When in the flecker'd dawning he shall spy
The glitterance of Christ.  From horn to horn,
And 'tween the summit and the base did move
Lights, scintillating, as they met and pass'd.
Thus oft are seen, with ever-changeful glance,
Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow,
The atomies of bodies, long or short,
To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line
Checkers the shadow, interpos'd by art
Against the noontide heat.  And as the chime
Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and help
With many strings, a pleasant dining makes
To him, who heareth not distinct the note;
So from the lights, which there appear'd to me,
Gather'd along the cross a melody,
That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment
Possess'd me.  Yet I mark'd it was a hymn
Of lofty praises; for there came to me
"Arise and conquer," as to one who hears
And comprehends not.  Me such ecstasy
O'ercame, that never till that hour was thing
That held me in so sweet imprisonment.
     Perhaps my saying over bold appears,
Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes,
Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire.
But he, who is aware those living seals
Of every beauty work with quicker force,
The higher they are ris'n; and that there
I had not turn'd me to them; he may well
Excuse me that, whereof in my excuse
I do accuse me, and may own my truth;
That holy pleasure here not yet reveal'd,
Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.
True love, that ever shows itself as clear
In kindness, as loose appetite in wrong,
Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still'd
The sacred chords, that are by heav'n's right hand
Unwound and tighten'd, flow to righteous prayers
Should they not hearken, who, to give me will
For praying, in accordance thus were mute?
He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief,
Who, for the love of thing that lasteth not,
Despoils himself forever of that love.
     As oft along the still and pure serene,
At nightfall, glides a sudden trail of fire,
Attracting with involuntary heed
The eye to follow it, erewhile at rest,
And seems some star that shifted place in heav'n,
Only that, whence it kindles, none is lost,
And it is soon extinct; thus from the horn,
That on the dexter of the cross extends,
Down to its foot, one luminary ran
From mid the cluster shone there; yet no gem
Dropp'd from its foil; and through the beamy list
Like flame in alabaster, glow'd its course.
     So forward stretch'd him (if of credence aught
Our greater muse may claim) the pious ghost
Of old Anchises, in the' Elysian bower,
When he perceiv'd his son.  "O thou, my blood!
O most exceeding grace divine!  to whom,
As now to thee, hath twice the heav'nly gate
Been e'er unclos'd?" so spake the light; whence I
Turn'd me toward him; then unto my dame
My sight directed, and on either side
Amazement waited me; for in her eyes
Was lighted such a smile, I thought that mine
Had div'd unto the bottom of my grace
And of my bliss in Paradise.  Forthwith
To hearing and to sight grateful alike,
The spirit to his proem added things
I understood not, so profound he spake;
Yet not of choice but through necessity
Mysterious; for his high conception scar'd
Beyond the mark of mortals.  When the flight
Of holy transport had so spent its rage,
That nearer to the level of our thought
The speech descended, the first sounds I heard
Were, "Best he thou, Triunal Deity!
That hast such favour in my seed vouchsaf'd!"
Then follow'd:  "No unpleasant thirst, tho' long,
Which took me reading in the sacred book,
Whose leaves or white or dusky never change,
Thou hast allay'd, my son, within this light,
From whence my voice thou hear'st; more thanks to her.
Who for such lofty mounting has with plumes
Begirt thee.  Thou dost deem thy thoughts to me
From him transmitted, who is first of all,
E'en as all numbers ray from unity;
And therefore dost not ask me who I am,
Or why to thee more joyous I appear,
Than any other in this gladsome throng.
The truth is as thou deem'st; for in this hue
Both less and greater in that mirror look,
In which thy thoughts, or ere thou think'st, are shown.
But, that the love, which keeps me wakeful ever,
Urging with sacred thirst of sweet desire,
May be contended fully, let thy voice,
Fearless, and frank and jocund, utter forth
Thy will distinctly, utter forth the wish,
Whereto my ready answer stands decreed."
     I turn'd me to Beatrice; and she heard
Ere I had spoken, smiling, an assent,
That to my will gave wings; and I began
"To each among your tribe, what time ye kenn'd
The nature, in whom naught unequal dwells,
Wisdom and love were in one measure dealt;
For that they are so equal in the sun,
From whence ye drew your radiance and your heat,
As makes all likeness scant.  But will and means,
In mortals, for the cause ye well discern,
With unlike wings are fledge.  A mortal I
Experience inequality like this,
And therefore give no thanks, but in the heart,
For thy paternal greeting.  This howe'er
I pray thee, living topaz!  that ingemm'st
This precious jewel, let me hear thy name."
     "I am thy root, O leaf!  whom to expect
Even, hath pleas'd me:  "thus the prompt reply
Prefacing, next it added;  "he, of whom
Thy kindred appellation comes, and who,
These hundred years and more, on its first ledge
Hath circuited the mountain, was my son
And thy great grandsire.  Well befits, his long
Endurance should he shorten'd by thy deeds.
     "Florence, within her ancient limit-mark,
Which calls her still to matin prayers and noon,
Was chaste and sober, and abode in peace.
She had no armlets and no head-tires then,
No purfled dames, no zone, that caught the eye
More than the person did.  Time was not yet,
When at his daughter's birth the sire grew pale.
For fear the age and dowry should exceed
On each side just proportion.  House was none
Void of its family; nor yet had come
Hardanapalus, to exhibit feats
Of chamber prowess.  Montemalo yet
O'er our suburban turret rose; as much
To be surpass in fall, as in its rising.
I saw Bellincione Berti walk abroad
In leathern girdle and a clasp of bone;
And, with no artful colouring on her cheeks,
His lady leave the glass.  The sons I saw
Of Nerli and of Vecchio well content
With unrob'd jerkin; and their good dames handling
The spindle and the flax; O happy they!
Each sure of burial in her native land,
And none left desolate a-bed for France!
One wak'd to tend the cradle, hushing it
With sounds that lull'd the parent's infancy:
Another, with her maidens, drawing off
The tresses from the distaff, lectur'd them
Old tales of Troy and Fesole and Rome.
A Salterello and Cianghella we
Had held as strange a marvel, as ye would
A Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.
     "In such compos'd and seemly fellowship,
Such faithful and such fair equality,
In so sweet household, Mary at my birth
Bestow'd me, call'd on with loud cries; and there
In your old baptistery, I was made
Christian at once and Cacciaguida; as were
My brethren, Eliseo and Moronto.
     "From Valdipado came to me my spouse,
And hence thy surname grew.  I follow'd then
The Emperor Conrad; and his knighthood he
Did gird on me; in such good part he took
My valiant service.  After him I went
To testify against that evil law,
Whose people, by the shepherd's fault, possess
Your right, usurping.  There, by that foul crew
Was I releas'd from the deceitful world,
Whose base affection many a spirit soils,
And from the martyrdom came to this peace."
O slight respect of man's nobility!
I never shall account it marvelous,
That our infirm affection here below
Thou mov'st to boasting, when I could not choose,
E'en in that region of unwarp'd desire,
In heav'n itself, but make my vaunt in thee!
Yet cloak thou art soon shorten'd, for that time,
Unless thou be eked out from day to day,
Goes round thee with his shears.  Resuming then
With greeting such, as Rome, was first to bear,
But since hath disaccustom'd I began;
And Beatrice, that a little space
Was sever'd, smil'd reminding me of her,
Whose cough embolden'd (as the story holds)
To first offence the doubting Guenever.
     "You are my sire," said I, "you give me heart
Freely to speak my thought: above myself
You raise me.  Through so many streams with joy
My soul is fill'd, that gladness wells from it;
So that it bears the mighty tide, and bursts not
Say then, my honour'd stem!  what ancestors
Where those you sprang from, and what years were mark'd
In your first childhood?  Tell me of the fold,
That hath Saint John for guardian, what was then
Its state, and who in it were highest seated?"
     As embers, at the breathing of the wind,
Their flame enliven, so that light I saw
Shine at my blandishments; and, as it grew
More fair to look on, so with voice more sweet,
Yet not in this our modern phrase, forthwith
It answer'd:  "From the day, when it was said
' Hail Virgin!' to the throes, by which my mother,
Who now is sainted, lighten'd her of me
Whom she was heavy with, this fire had come,
Five hundred fifty times and thrice, its beams
To reilumine underneath the foot
Of its own lion.  They, of whom I sprang,
And I, had there our birth-place, where the last
Partition of our city first is reach'd
By him, that runs her annual game.  Thus much
Suffice of my forefathers: who they were,
And whence they hither came, more honourable
It is to pass in silence than to tell.
All those, who in that time were there from Mars
Until the Baptist, fit to carry arms,
Were but the fifth of them this day alive.
But then the citizen's blood, that now is mix'd
From Campi and Certaldo and Fighine,
Ran purely through the last mechanic's veins.
O how much better were it, that these people
Were neighbours to you, and that at Galluzzo
And at Trespiano, ye should have your bound'ry,
Than to have them within, and bear the stench
Of Aguglione's hind, and Signa's, him,
That hath his eye already keen for bart'ring!
Had not the people, which of all the world
Degenerates most, been stepdame unto Caesar,
But, as a mother, gracious to her son;
Such one, as hath become a Florentine,
And trades and traffics, had been turn'd adrift
To Simifonte, where his grandsire ply'd
The beggar's craft.  The Conti were possess'd
Of Montemurlo still: the Cerchi still
Were in Acone's parish; nor had haply
From Valdigrieve past the Buondelmonte.
The city's malady hath ever source
In the confusion of its persons, as
The body's, in variety of food:
And the blind bull falls with a steeper plunge,
Than the blind lamb; and oftentimes one sword
Doth more and better execution,
Than five.  Mark Luni, Urbisaglia mark,
How they are gone, and after them how go
Chiusi and Sinigaglia; and 't will seem
No longer new or strange to thee to hear,
That families fail, when cities have their end.
All things, that appertain t' ye, like yourselves,
Are mortal: but mortality in some
Ye mark not, they endure so long, and you
Pass by so suddenly.  And as the moon
Doth, by the rolling of her heav'nly sphere,
Hide and reveal the strand unceasingly;
So fortune deals with Florence.  Hence admire not
At what of them I tell thee, whose renown
Time covers, the first Florentines.  I saw
The Ughi, Catilini and Filippi,
The Alberichi, Greci and Ormanni,
Now in their wane, illustrious citizens:
And great as ancient, of Sannella him,
With him of Arca saw, and Soldanieri
And Ardinghi, and Bostichi.  At the poop,
That now is laden with new felony,
So cumb'rous it may speedily sink the bark,
The Ravignani sat, of whom is sprung
The County Guido, and whoso hath since
His title from the fam'd Bellincione ta'en.
Fair governance was yet an art well priz'd
By him of Pressa:  Galigaio show'd
The gilded hilt and pommel, in his house.
The column, cloth'd with verrey, still was seen
Unshaken:  the Sacchetti still were great,
Giouchi, Sifanti, Galli and Barucci,
With them who blush to hear the bushel nam'd.
Of the Calfucci still the branchy trunk
Was in its strength: and to the curule chairs
Sizii and Arigucci yet were drawn.
How mighty them I saw, whom since their pride
Hath undone!  and in all her goodly deeds
Florence was by the bullets of bright gold
O'erflourish'd.  Such the sires of those, who now,
As surely as your church is vacant, flock
Into her consistory, and at leisure
There stall them and grow fat.  The o'erweening brood,
That plays the dragon after him that flees,
But unto such, as turn and show the tooth,
Ay or the purse, is gentle as a lamb,
Was on its rise, but yet so slight esteem'd,
That Ubertino of Donati grudg'd
His father-in-law should yoke him to its tribe.
Already Caponsacco had descended
Into the mart from Fesole:  and Giuda
And Infangato were good citizens.
A thing incredible I tell, tho' true:
The gateway, named from those of Pera, led
Into the narrow circuit of your walls.
Each one, who bears the sightly quarterings
Of the great Baron (he whose name and worth
The festival of Thomas still revives)
His knighthood and his privilege retain'd;
Albeit one, who borders them With gold,
This day is mingled with the common herd.
In Borgo yet the Gualterotti dwelt,
And Importuni: well for its repose
Had it still lack'd of newer neighbourhood.
The house, from whence your tears have had their spring,
Through the just anger that hath murder'd ye
And put a period to your gladsome days,
Was honour'd, it, and those consorted with it.
O Buondelmonte!  what ill counseling
Prevail'd on thee to break the plighted bond
Many, who now are weeping, would rejoice,
Had God to Ema giv'n thee, the first time
Thou near our city cam'st.  But so was doom'd:
On that maim'd stone set up to guard the bridge,
At thy last peace, the victim, Florence!  fell.
With these and others like to them, I saw
Florence in such assur'd tranquility,
She had no cause at which to grieve: with these
Saw her so glorious and so just, that ne'er
The lily from the lance had hung reverse,
Or through division been with vermeil dyed."
Such as the youth, who came to Clymene
To certify himself of that reproach,
Which had been fasten'd on him, (he whose end
Still makes the fathers chary to their sons,
E'en such was I; nor unobserv'd was such
Of Beatrice, and that saintly lamp,
Who had erewhile for me his station mov'd;
When thus by lady:  "Give thy wish free vent,
That it may issue, bearing true report
Of the mind's impress; not that aught thy words
May to our knowledge add, but to the end,
That thou mayst use thyself to own thy thirst
And men may mingle for thee when they hear."
     "O plant!  from whence I spring! rever'd and lov'd!
Who soar'st so high a pitch, thou seest as clear,
As earthly thought determines two obtuse
In one triangle not contain'd, so clear
Dost see contingencies, ere in themselves
Existent, looking at the point whereto
All times are present, I, the whilst I scal'd
With Virgil the soul purifying mount,
And visited the nether world of woe,
Touching my future destiny have heard
Words grievous, though I feel me on all sides
Well squar'd to fortune's blows.  Therefore my will
Were satisfied to know the lot awaits me,
The arrow, seen beforehand, slacks its flight."
     So said I to the brightness, which erewhile
To me had spoken, and my will declar'd,
As Beatrice will'd, explicitly.
Nor with oracular response obscure,
Such, as or ere the Lamb of God was slain,
Beguil'd the credulous nations; but, in terms
Precise and unambiguous lore, replied
The spirit of paternal love, enshrin'd,
Yet in his smile apparent; and thus spake:
"Contingency, unfolded not to view
Upon the tablet of your mortal mold,
Is all depictur'd in the' eternal sight;
But hence deriveth not necessity,
More then the tall ship, hurried down the flood,
Doth from the vision, that reflects the scene.
From thence, as to the ear sweet harmony
From organ comes, so comes before mine eye
The time prepar'd for thee.  Such as driv'n out
From Athens, by his cruel stepdame's wiles,
Hippolytus departed, such must thou
Depart from Florence.  This they wish, and this
Contrive, and will ere long effectuate, there,
Where gainful merchandize is made of Christ,
Throughout the livelong day.  The common cry,
Will, as 't is ever wont, affix the blame
Unto the party injur'd:  but the truth
Shall, in the vengeance it dispenseth, find
A faithful witness.  Thou shall leave each thing
Belov'd most dearly:  this is the first shaft
Shot from the bow of exile.  Thou shalt prove
How salt the savour is of other's bread,
How hard the passage to descend and climb
By other's stairs, But that shall gall thee most
Will he the worthless and vile company,
With whom thou must be thrown into these straits.
For all ungrateful, impious all and mad,
Shall turn 'gainst thee:  but in a little while
Theirs and not thine shall be the crimson'd brow
Their course shall so evince their brutishness
T' have ta'en thy stand apart shall well become thee.
     "First refuge thou must find, first place of rest,
In the great Lombard's courtesy, who bears
Upon the ladder perch'd the sacred bird.
He shall behold thee with such kind regard,
That 'twixt ye two, the contrary to that
Which falls 'twixt other men, the granting shall
Forerun the asking.  With him shalt thou see
That mortal, who was at his birth impress
So strongly from this star, that of his deeds
The nations shall take note.  His unripe age
Yet holds him from observance; for these wheels
Only nine years have compass him about.
But, ere the Gascon practice on great Harry,
Sparkles of virtue shall shoot forth in him,
In equal scorn of labours and of gold.
His bounty shall be spread abroad so widely,
As not to let the tongues e'en of his foes
Be idle in its praise.  Look thou to him
And his beneficence:  for he shall cause
Reversal of their lot to many people,
Rich men and beggars interchanging fortunes.
And thou shalt bear this written in thy soul
Of him, but tell it not; "and things he told
Incredible to those who witness them;
Then added:  "So interpret thou, my son,
What hath been told thee.--Lo!  the ambushment
That a few circling seasons hide for thee!
Yet envy not thy neighbours: time extends
Thy span beyond their treason's chastisement."
     Soon, as the saintly spirit, by his silence,
Had shown the web, which I had streteh'd for him
Upon the warp, was woven, I began,
As one, who in perplexity desires
Counsel of other, wise, benign and friendly:
"My father!  well I mark how time spurs on
Toward me, ready to inflict the blow,
Which falls most heavily on him, who most
Abandoned himself.  Therefore 't is good
I should forecast, that driven from the place
Most dear to me, I may not lose myself
All others by my song.  Down through the world
Of infinite mourning, and along the mount
From whose fair height my lady's eyes did lift me,
And after through this heav'n from light to light,
Have I learnt that, which if I tell again,
It may with many woefully disrelish;
And, if I am a timid friend to truth,
I fear my life may perish among those,
To whom these days shall be of ancient date."
     The brightness, where enclos'd the treasure smil'd,
Which I had found there, first shone glisteningly,
Like to a golden mirror in the sun;
Next answer'd:  "Conscience, dimm'd or by its own
Or other's shame, will feel thy saying sharp.
Thou, notwithstanding, all deceit remov'd,
See the whole vision be made manifest.
And let them wince who have their withers wrung.
What though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove
Unwelcome, on digestion it will turn
To vital nourishment.  The cry thou raisest,
Shall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest summits;
Which is of honour no light argument,
For this there only have been shown to thee,
Throughout these orbs, the mountain, and the deep,
Spirits, whom fame hath note of.  For the mind
Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce
And fix its faith, unless the instance brought
Be palpable, and proof apparent urge."
Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd
That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine,
Tempting the sweet with bitter:  she meanwhile,
Who led me unto God, admonish'd:  "Muse
On other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him
I dwell, who recompenseth every wrong."
     At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn'd;
And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,
I leave in silence here:  nor through distrust
Of my words only, but that to such bliss
The mind remounts not without aid.  Thus much
Yet may I speak; that, as I gaz'd on her,
Affection found no room for other wish.
While the everlasting pleasure, that did full
On Beatrice shine, with second view
From her fair countenance my gladden'd soul
Contented; vanquishing me with a beam
Of her soft smile, she spake:  "Turn thee, and list.
These eyes are not thy only Paradise."
     As here we sometimes in the looks may see
Th' affection mark'd, when that its sway hath ta'en
The spirit wholly; thus the hallow'd light,
To whom I turn'd, flashing, bewray'd its will
To talk yet further with me, and began:
"On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose life
Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair
And leaf unwith'ring, blessed spirits abide,
That were below, ere they arriv'd in heav'n,
So mighty in renown, as every muse
Might grace her triumph with them.  On the horns
Look therefore of the cross:  he, whom I name,
Shall there enact, as doth 1n summer cloud
Its nimble fire."  Along the cross I saw,
At the repeated name of Joshua,
A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said,
Ere it was done:  then, at the naming saw
Of the great Maccabee, another move
With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge
Unto that top.  The next for Charlemagne
And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze
Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues
A falcon flying.  Last, along the cross,
William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drew
My ken, and Robert Guiscard.  And the soul,
Who spake with me among the other lights
Did move away, and mix; and with the choir
Of heav'nly songsters prov'd his tuneful skill.
     To Beatrice on my right l bent,
Looking for intimation or by word
Or act, what next behoov'd;  and did descry
Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,
It past all former wont.  And, as by sense
Of new delight, the man, who perseveres
In good deeds doth perceive from day to day
His virtue growing; I e'en thus perceiv'd
Of my ascent, together with the heav'n
The circuit widen'd, noting the increase
Of beauty in that wonder.  Like the change
In a brief moment on some maiden's cheek,
Which from its fairness doth discharge the weight
Of pudency, that stain'd it; such in her,
And to mine eyes so sudden was the change,
Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star,
Whose sixth orb now enfolded us.  I saw,
Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks
Of love, that reign'd there, fashion to my view
Our language.  And as birds, from river banks
Arisen, now in round, now lengthen'd troop,
Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems,
Their new-found pastures; so, within the lights,
The saintly creatures flying, sang, and made
Now D. now I. now L. figur'd I' th' air.
First, singing, to their notes they mov'd, then one
Becoming of these signs, a little while
Did rest them, and were mute.  O nymph divine
Of Pegasean race!  whose souls, which thou
Inspir'st, mak'st glorious and long-liv'd, as they
Cities and realms by thee!  thou with thyself
Inform me; that I may set forth the shapes,
As fancy doth present them.  Be thy power
Display'd in this brief song.  The characters,
Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven.
In order each, as they appear'd, I mark'd.
Diligite Justitiam, the first,
Both verb and noun all blazon'd; and the extreme
Qui judicatis terram.  In the M.
Of the fifth word they held their station,
Making the star seem silver streak'd with gold.
And on the summit of the M. I saw
Descending other lights, that rested there,
Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good.
Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand,
Sparkles innumerable on all sides
Rise scatter'd, source of augury to th' unwise;
Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence
Seem'd reascending, and a higher pitch
Some mounting, and some less; e'en as the sun,
Which kindleth them, decreed.  And when each one
Had settled in his place, the head and neck
Then saw I of an eagle, lively
Grav'd in that streaky fire.  Who painteth there,
Hath none to guide him; of himself he guides;
And every line and texture of the nest
Doth own from him the virtue, fashions it.
The other bright beatitude, that seem'd
Erewhile, with lilied crowning, well content
To over-canopy the M. mov'd forth,
Following gently the impress of the bird.
      Sweet star!  what glorious and thick-studded gems
Declar'd to me our justice on the earth
To be the effluence of that heav'n, which thou,
Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay!
Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom
Thy motion and thy virtue are begun,
That he would look from whence the fog doth rise,
To vitiate thy beam: so that once more
He may put forth his hand 'gainst such, as drive
Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls
With miracles and martyrdoms were built.
     Ye host of heaven!  whose glory I survey l
O beg ye grace for those, that are on earth
All after ill example gone astray.
War once had for its instrument the sword:
But now 't is made, taking the bread away
Which the good Father locks from none.  --And thou,
That writes but to cancel, think, that they,
Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,
Peter and Paul live yet, and mark thy doings.
Thou hast good cause to cry, "My heart so cleaves
To him, that liv'd in solitude remote,
And from the wilds was dragg'd to martyrdom,
I wist not of the fisherman nor Paul."
Before my sight appear'd, with open wings,
The beauteous image, in fruition sweet
Gladdening the thronged spirits.  Each did seem
A little ruby, whereon so intense
The sun-beam glow'd that to mine eyes it came
In clear refraction.  And that, which next
Befalls me to portray, voice hath not utter'd,
Nor hath ink written, nor in fantasy
Was e'er conceiv'd.  For I beheld and heard
The beak discourse; and, what intention form'd
Of many, singly as of one express,
Beginning:  "For that I was just and piteous,
l am exalted to this height of glory,
The which no wish exceeds: and there on earth
Have I my memory left, e'en by the bad
Commended, while they leave its course untrod."
     Thus is one heat from many embers felt,
As in that image many were the loves,
And one the voice, that issued from them all.
Whence I address them:  "O perennial flowers
Of gladness everlasting!  that exhale
In single breath your odours manifold!
Breathe now; and let the hunger be appeas'd,
That with great craving long hath held my soul,
Finding no food on earth.  This well I know,
That if there be in heav'n a realm, that shows
In faithful mirror the celestial Justice,
Yours without veil reflects it.  Ye discern
The heed, wherewith I do prepare myself
To hearken; ye the doubt that urges me
With such inveterate craving."  Straight I saw,
Like to a falcon issuing from the hood,
That rears his head, and claps him with his wings,
His beauty and his eagerness bewraying.
So saw I move that stately sign, with praise
Of grace divine inwoven and high song
Of inexpressive joy.  "He," it began,
"Who turn'd his compass on the world's extreme,
And in that space so variously hath wrought,
Both openly, and in secret, in such wise
Could not through all the universe display
Impression of his glory, that the Word
Of his omniscience should not still remain
In infinite excess.  In proof whereof,
He first through pride supplanted, who was sum
Of each created being, waited not
For light celestial, and abortive fell.
Whence needs each lesser nature is but scant
Receptacle unto that Good, which knows
No limit, measur'd by itself alone.
Therefore your sight, of th' omnipresent Mind
A single beam, its origin must own
Surpassing far its utmost potency.
The ken, your world is gifted with, descends
In th' everlasting Justice as low down,
As eye doth in the sea; which though it mark
The bottom from the shore, in the wide main
Discerns it not; and ne'ertheless it is,
But hidden through its deepness.  Light is none,
Save that which cometh from the pure serene
Of ne'er disturbed ether: for the rest,
'Tis darkness all, or shadow of the flesh,
Or else its poison.  Here confess reveal'd
That covert, which hath hidden from thy search
The living justice, of the which thou mad'st
Such frequent question; for thou saidst--'A man
Is born on Indus' banks, and none is there
Who speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write,
And all his inclinations and his acts,
As far as human reason sees, are good,
And he offendeth not in word or deed.
But unbaptiz'd he dies, and void of faith.
Where is the justice that condemns him?  where
His blame, if he believeth not?'--What then,
And who art thou, that on the stool wouldst sit
To judge at distance of a thousand miles
With the short-sighted vision of a span?
To him, who subtilizes thus with me,
There would assuredly be room for doubt
Even to wonder, did not the safe word
Of scripture hold supreme authority.
     "O animals of clay!  O spirits gross I
The primal will, that in itself is good,
Hath from itself, the chief Good, ne'er been mov'd.
Justice consists in consonance with it,
Derivable by no created good,
Whose very cause depends upon its beam."
     As on her nest the stork, that turns about
Unto her young, whom lately she hath fed,
While they with upward eyes do look on her;
So lifted I my gaze; and bending so
The ever-blessed image wav'd its wings,
Lab'ring with such deep counsel.  Wheeling round
It warbled, and did say:  "As are my notes
To thee, who understand'st them not, such is
Th' eternal judgment unto mortal ken."
     Then still abiding in that ensign rang'd,
Wherewith the Romans over-awed the world,
Those burning splendours of the Holy Spirit
Took up the strain; and thus it spake again:
"None ever hath ascended to this realm,
Who hath not a believer been in Christ,
Either before or after the blest limbs
Were nail'd upon the wood.  But lo!  of those
Who call 'Christ, Christ,' there shall be many found,
 In judgment, further off from him by far,
Than such, to whom his name was never known.
Christians like these the Ethiop shall condemn:
When that the two assemblages shall part;
One rich eternally, the other poor.
     "What may the Persians say unto your kings,
When they shall see that volume, in the which
All their dispraise is written, spread to view?
There amidst Albert's works shall that be read,
Which will give speedy motion to the pen,
When Prague shall mourn her desolated realm.
There shall be read the woe, that he doth work
With his adulterate money on the Seine,
Who by the tusk will perish: there be read
The thirsting pride, that maketh fool alike
The English and Scot, impatient of their bound.
There shall be seen the Spaniard's luxury,
The delicate living there of the Bohemian,
Who still to worth has been a willing stranger.
The halter of Jerusalem shall see
A unit for his virtue, for his vices
No less a mark than million.  He, who guards
The isle of fire by old Anchises honour'd
Shall find his avarice there and cowardice;
And better to denote his littleness,
The writing must be letters maim'd, that speak
Much in a narrow space.  All there shall know
His uncle and his brother's filthy doings,
Who so renown'd a nation and two crowns
Have bastardized.  And they, of Portugal
And Norway, there shall be expos'd with him
Of Ratza, who hath counterfeited ill
The coin of Venice.  O blest Hungary!
If thou no longer patiently abid'st
Thy ill-entreating!  and, O blest Navarre!
If with thy mountainous girdle thou wouldst arm thee
In earnest of that day, e'en now are heard
Wailings and groans in Famagosta's streets
And Nicosia's, grudging at their beast,
Who keepeth even footing with the rest."
When, disappearing, from our hemisphere,
The world's enlightener vanishes, and day
On all sides wasteth, suddenly the sky,
Erewhile irradiate only with his beam,
Is yet again unfolded, putting forth
Innumerable lights wherein one shines.
Of such vicissitude in heaven I thought,
As the great sign, that marshaleth the world
And the world's leaders, in the blessed beak
Was silent; for that all those living lights,
Waxing in splendour, burst forth into songs,
Such as from memory glide and fall away.
     Sweet love!  that dost apparel thee in smiles,
How lustrous was thy semblance in those sparkles,
Which merely are from holy thoughts inspir'd!
     After the precious and bright beaming stones,
That did ingem the sixth light, ceas'd the chiming
Of their angelic bells; methought I heard
The murmuring of a river, that doth fall
From rock to rock transpicuous, making known
The richness of his spring-head: and as sound
Of cistern, at the fret-board, or of pipe,
Is, at the wind-hole, modulate and tun'd;
Thus up the neck, as it were hollow, rose
That murmuring of the eagle, and forthwith
Voice there assum'd, and thence along the beak
Issued in form of words, such as my heart
Did look for, on whose tables I inscrib'd them.
     "The part in me, that sees, and bears the sun,,
In mortal eagles," it began, "must now
Be noted steadfastly: for of the fires,
That figure me, those, glittering in mine eye,
Are chief of all the greatest.  This, that shines
Midmost for pupil, was the same, who sang
The Holy Spirit's song, and bare about
The ark from town to town; now doth he know
The merit of his soul-impassion'd strains
By their well-fitted guerdon.  Of the five,
That make the circle of the vision, he
Who to the beak is nearest, comforted
The widow for her son: now doth he know
How dear he costeth not to follow Christ,
Both from experience of this pleasant life,
And of its opposite.  He next, who follows
In the circumference, for the over arch,
By true repenting slack'd the pace of death:
Now knoweth he, that the degrees of heav'n
Alter not, when through pious prayer below
Today's is made tomorrow's destiny.
The other following, with the laws and me,
To yield the shepherd room, pass'd o'er to Greece,
From good intent producing evil fruit:
Now knoweth he, how all the ill, deriv'd
From his well doing, doth not helm him aught,
Though it have brought destruction on the world.
That, which thou seest in the under bow,
Was William, whom that land bewails, which weeps
For Charles and Frederick living: now he knows
How well is lov'd in heav'n the righteous king,
Which he betokens by his radiant seeming.
Who in the erring world beneath would deem,
That Trojan Ripheus in this round was set
Fifth of the saintly splendours?  now he knows
Enough of that, which the world cannot see,
The grace divine, albeit e'en his sight
Reach not its utmost depth."  Like to the lark,
That warbling in the air expatiates long,
Then, trilling out his last sweet melody,
Drops satiate with the sweetness; such appear'd
That image stampt by the' everlasting pleasure,
Which fashions like itself all lovely things.
     I, though my doubting were as manifest,
As is through glass the hue that mantles it,
In silence waited not: for to my lips
"What things are these?"  involuntary rush'd,
And forc'd a passage out: whereat I mark'd
A sudden lightening and new revelry.
The eye was kindled: and the blessed sign
No more to keep me wond'ring and suspense,
Replied:  "I see that thou believ'st these things,
Because I tell them, but discern'st not how;
So that thy knowledge waits not on thy faith:
As one who knows the name of thing by rote,
But is a stranger to its properties,
Till other's tongue reveal them.  Fervent love
And lively hope with violence assail
The kingdom of the heavens, and overcome
The will of the Most high; not in such sort
As man prevails o'er man; but conquers it,
Because 't is willing to be conquer'd, still,
Though conquer'd, by its mercy conquering.
     "Those, in the eye who live the first and fifth,
Cause thee to marvel, in that thou behold'st
The region of the angels deck'd with them.
They quitted not their bodies, as thou deem'st,
Gentiles but Christians, in firm rooted faith,
This of the feet in future to be pierc'd,
That of feet nail'd already to the cross.
One from the barrier of the dark abyss,
Where never any with good will returns,
Came back unto his bones.  Of lively hope
Such was the meed; of lively hope, that wing'd
The prayers sent up to God for his release,
And put power into them to bend his will.
The glorious Spirit, of whom I speak to thee,
A little while returning to the flesh,
Believ'd in him, who had the means to help,
And, in believing, nourish'd such a flame
Of holy love, that at the second death
He was made sharer in our gamesome mirth.
The other, through the riches of that grace,
Which from so deep a fountain doth distil,
As never eye created saw its rising,
Plac'd all his love below on just and right:
Wherefore of grace God op'd in him the eye
To the redemption of mankind to come;
Wherein believing, he endur'd no more
The filth of paganism, and for their ways
Rebuk'd the stubborn nations.  The three nymphs,
Whom at the right wheel thou beheldst advancing,
Were sponsors for him more than thousand years
Before baptizing.  O how far remov'd,
Predestination!  is thy root from such
As see not the First cause entire: and ye,
O mortal men!  be wary how ye judge:
For we, who see our Maker, know not yet
The number of the chosen: and esteem
Such scantiness of knowledge our delight:
For all our good is in that primal good
Concentrate, and God's will and ours are one."
     So, by that form divine, was giv'n to me
Sweet medicine to clear and strengthen sight,
And, as one handling skillfully the harp,
Attendant on some skilful songster's voice
Bids the chords vibrate, and therein the song
Acquires more pleasure; so, the whilst it spake,
It doth remember me, that I beheld
The pair of blessed luminaries move.
Like the accordant twinkling of two eyes,
Their beamy circlets, dancing to the sounds.
Again mine eyes were fix'd on Beatrice,
And with mine eyes my soul, that in her looks
Found all contentment.  Yet no smile she wore
And, "Did I smile," quoth she, "thou wouldst be straight
Like Semele when into ashes turn'd:
For, mounting these eternal palace-stairs,
My beauty, which the loftier it climbs,
As thou hast noted, still doth kindle more,
So shines, that, were no temp'ring interpos'd,
Thy mortal puissance would from its rays
Shrink, as the leaf doth from the thunderbolt.
Into the seventh splendour are we wafted,
That underneath the burning lion's breast
Beams, in this hour, commingled with his might,
Thy mind be with thine eyes: and in them mirror'd
The shape, which in this mirror shall be shown."
Whoso can deem, how fondly I had fed
My sight upon her blissful countenance,
May know, when to new thoughts I chang'd, what joy
To do the bidding of my heav'nly guide:
In equal balance poising either weight.
     Within the crystal, which records the name,
(As its remoter circle girds the world)
Of that lov'd monarch, in whose happy reign
No ill had power to harm, I saw rear'd up,
In colour like to sun-illumin'd gold.
A ladder, which my ken pursued in vain,
So lofty was the summit; down whose steps
I saw the splendours in such multitude
Descending, ev'ry light in heav'n, methought,
Was shed thence.  As the rooks, at dawn of day
Bestirring them to dry their feathers chill,
Some speed their way a-field, and homeward some,
Returning, cross their flight, while some abide
And wheel around their airy lodge; so seem'd
That glitterance, wafted on alternate wing,
As upon certain stair it met, and clash'd
Its shining. And one ling'ring near us, wax'd
So bright, that in my thought: said: "The love,
Which this betokens me, admits no doubt."
     Unwillingly from question I refrain,
To her, by whom my silence and my speech
Are order'd, looking for a sign: whence she,
Who in the sight of Him, that seeth all,
Saw wherefore I was silent, prompted me
T' indulge the fervent wish; and I began:
"I am not worthy, of my own desert,
That thou shouldst answer me; but for her sake,
Who hath vouchsaf'd my asking, spirit blest!
That in thy joy art shrouded!  say the cause,
Which bringeth thee so near: and wherefore, say,
Doth the sweet symphony of Paradise
Keep silence here, pervading with such sounds
Of rapt devotion ev'ry lower sphere?"
"Mortal art thou in hearing as in sight;"
Was the reply:  "and what forbade the smile
Of Beatrice interrupts our song.
Only to yield thee gladness of my voice,
And of the light that vests me, I thus far
Descend these hallow'd steps: not that more love
Invites me; for lo!  there aloft, as much
Or more of love is witness'd in those flames:
But such my lot by charity assign'd,
That makes us ready servants, as thou seest,
To execute the counsel of the Highest.
"That in this court," said I, "O sacred lamp!
Love no compulsion needs, but follows free
Th' eternal Providence, I well discern:
This harder find to deem, why of thy peers
Thou only to this office wert foredoom'd."
I had not ended, when, like rapid mill,
Upon its centre whirl'd the light; and then
The love, that did inhabit there, replied:
"Splendour eternal, piercing through these folds,
Its virtue to my vision knits, and thus
Supported, lifts me so above myself,
That on the sov'ran essence, which it wells from,
I have the power to gaze: and hence the joy,
Wherewith I sparkle, equaling with my blaze
The keenness of my sight.  But not the soul,
That is in heav'n most lustrous, nor the seraph
That hath his eyes most fix'd on God, shall solve
What thou hast ask'd: for in th' abyss it lies
Of th' everlasting statute sunk so low,
That no created ken may fathom it.
And, to the mortal world when thou return'st,
Be this reported; that none henceforth dare
Direct his footsteps to so dread a bourn.
The mind, that here is radiant, on the earth
Is wrapt in mist.  Look then if she may do,
Below, what passeth her ability,
When she is ta'en to heav'n."  By words like these
Admonish'd, I the question urg'd no more;
And of the spirit humbly sued alone
T' instruct me of its state.  "'Twixt either shore
Of Italy, nor distant from thy land,
A stony ridge ariseth, in such sort,
The thunder doth not lift his voice so high,
They call it Catria: at whose foot a cell
Is sacred to the lonely Eremite,
For worship set apart and holy rites."
A third time thus it spake; then added:  "There
So firmly to God's service I adher'd,
That with no costlier viands than the juice
Of olives, easily I pass'd the heats
Of summer and the winter frosts, content
In heav'n-ward musings.  Rich were the returns
And fertile, which that cloister once was us'd
To render to these heavens: now 't is fall'n
Into a waste so empty, that ere long
Detection must lay bare its vanity
Pietro Damiano there was I y-clept:
Pietro the sinner, when before I dwelt
Beside the Adriatic, in the house
Of our blest Lady.  Near upon my close
Of mortal life, through much importuning
I was constrain'd to wear the hat that still
From bad to worse it shifted.--Cephas came;
He came, who was the Holy Spirit's vessel,
Barefoot and lean, eating their bread, as chanc'd,
At the first table.  Modern Shepherd's need
Those who on either hand may prop and lead them,
So burly are they grown: and from behind
Others to hoist them.  Down the palfrey's sides
Spread their broad mantles, so as both the beasts
Are cover'd with one skin.  O patience!  thou
That lookst on this and doth endure so long."
I at those accents saw the splendours down
From step to step alight, and wheel, and wax,
Each circuiting, more beautiful.  Round this
They came, and stay'd them; uttered them a shout
So loud, it hath no likeness here: nor I
Wist what it spake, so deaf'ning was the thunder.
Astounded, to the guardian of my steps
I turn'd me, like the chill, who always runs
Thither for succour, where he trusteth most,
And she was like the mother, who her son
Beholding pale and breathless, with her voice
Soothes him, and he is cheer'd; for thus she spake,
Soothing me:  "Know'st not thou, thou art in heav'n?
And know'st not thou, whatever is in heav'n,
Is holy, and that nothing there is done
But is done zealously and well?  Deem now,
What change in thee the song, and what my smile
had wrought, since thus the shout had pow'r to move thee.
In which couldst thou have understood their prayers,
The vengeance were already known to thee,
Which thou must witness ere thy mortal hour,
The sword of heav'n is not in haste to smite,
Nor yet doth linger, save unto his seeming,
Who in desire or fear doth look for it.
But elsewhere now l bid thee turn thy view;
So shalt thou many a famous spirit behold."
Mine eyes directing, as she will'd, I saw
A hundred little spheres, that fairer grew
By interchange of splendour.  I remain'd,
As one, who fearful of o'er-much presuming,
Abates in him the keenness of desire,
Nor dares to question, when amid those pearls,
One largest and most lustrous onward drew,
That it might yield contentment to my wish;
And from within it these the sounds I heard.
     "If thou, like me, beheldst the charity
That burns amongst us, what thy mind conceives,
Were utter'd.  But that, ere the lofty bound
Thou reach, expectance may not weary thee,
I will make answer even to the thought,
Which thou hast such respect of.  In old days,
That mountain, at whose side Cassino rests,
Was on its height frequented by a race
Deceived and ill dispos'd: and I it was,
Who thither carried first the name of Him,
Who brought the soul-subliming truth to man.
And such a speeding grace shone over me,
That from their impious worship I reclaim'd
The dwellers round about, who with the world
Were in delusion lost.  These other flames,
The spirits of men contemplative, were all
Enliven'd by that warmth, whose kindly force
Gives birth to flowers and fruits of holiness.
Here is Macarius; Romoaldo here:
And here my brethren, who their steps refrain'd
Within the cloisters, and held firm their heart."
     I answ'ring, thus; "Thy gentle words and kind,
And this the cheerful semblance, I behold
Not unobservant, beaming in ye all,
Have rais'd assurance in me, wakening it
Full-blossom'd in my bosom, as a rose
Before the sun, when the consummate flower
Has spread to utmost amplitude.  Of thee
Therefore entreat I, father!  to declare
If I may gain such favour, as to gaze
Upon thine image, by no covering veil'd."
     "Brother!"  he thus rejoin'd, "in the last sphere
Expect completion of thy lofty aim,
For there on each desire completion waits,
And there on mine: where every aim is found
Perfect, entire, and for fulfillment ripe.
There all things are as they have ever been:
For space is none to bound, nor pole divides,
Our ladder reaches even to that clime,
And so at giddy distance mocks thy view.
Thither the Patriarch Jacob saw it stretch
Its topmost round, when it appear'd to him
With angels laden.  But to mount it now
None lifts his foot from earth: and hence my rule
Is left a profitless stain upon the leaves;
The walls, for abbey rear'd, turned into dens,
The cowls to sacks choak'd up with musty meal.
Foul usury doth not more lift itself
Against God's pleasure, than that fruit which makes
The hearts of monks so wanton: for whate'er
Is in the church's keeping, all pertains.
To such, as sue for heav'n's sweet sake, and not
To those who in respect of kindred claim,
Or on more vile allowance.  Mortal flesh
Is grown so dainty, good beginnings last not
From the oak's birth, unto the acorn's setting.
His convent Peter founded without gold
Or silver; I with pray'rs and fasting mine;
And Francis his in meek humility.
And if thou note the point, whence each proceeds,
Then look what it hath err'd to, thou shalt find
The white grown murky.  Jordan was turn'd back;
And a less wonder, then the refluent sea,
May at God's pleasure work amendment here."
     So saying, to his assembly back he drew:
And they together cluster'd into one,
Then all roll'd upward like an eddying wind.
     The sweet dame beckon'd me to follow them:
And, by that influence only, so prevail'd
Over my nature, that no natural motion,
Ascending or descending here below,
Had, as I mounted, with my pennon vied.
     So, reader, as my hope is to return
Unto the holy triumph, for the which
I ofttimes wail my sins, and smite my breast,
Thou hadst been longer drawing out and thrusting
Thy finger in the fire, than I was, ere
The sign, that followeth Taurus, I beheld,
And enter'd its precinct.  O glorious stars!
O light impregnate with exceeding virtue!
To whom whate'er of genius lifteth me
Above the vulgar, grateful I refer;
With ye the parent of all mortal life
Arose and set, when I did first inhale
The Tuscan air; and afterward, when grace
Vouchsaf'd me entrance to the lofty wheel
That in its orb impels ye, fate decreed
My passage at your clime.  To you my soul
Devoutly sighs, for virtue even now
To meet the hard emprize that draws me on.
     "Thou art so near the sum of blessedness,"
Said Beatrice, "that behooves thy ken
Be vigilant and clear.  And, to this end,
Or even thou advance thee further, hence
Look downward, and contemplate, what a world
Already stretched under our feet there lies:
So as thy heart may, in its blithest mood,
Present itself to the triumphal throng,
Which through the' etherial concave comes rejoicing."
     I straight obey'd; and with mine eye return'd
Through all the seven spheres, and saw this globe
So pitiful of semblance, that perforce
It moved my smiles: and him in truth I hold
For wisest, who esteems it least: whose thoughts
Elsewhere are fix'd, him worthiest call and best.
I saw the daughter of Latona shine
Without the shadow, whereof late I deem'd
That dense and rare were cause.  Here I sustain'd
The visage, Hyperion!  of thy sun;
And mark'd, how near him with their circle, round
Move Maia and Dione; here discern'd
Jove's tempering 'twixt his sire and son; and hence
Their changes and their various aspects
Distinctly scann'd.  Nor might I not descry
Of all the seven, how bulky each, how swift;
Nor of their several distances not learn.
This petty area (o'er the which we stride
So fiercely), as along the eternal twins
I wound my way, appear'd before me all,
Forth from the havens stretch'd unto the hills.
Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes return'd.
E'en as the bird, who midst the leafy bower
Has, in her nest, sat darkling through the night,
With her sweet brood, impatient to descry
Their wished looks, and to bring home their food,
In the fond quest unconscious of her toil:
She, of the time prevenient, on the spray,
That overhangs their couch, with wakeful gaze
Expects the sun; nor ever, till the dawn,
Removeth from the east her eager ken;
So stood the dame erect, and bent her glance
Wistfully on that region, where the sun
Abateth most his speed; that, seeing her
Suspense and wand'ring, I became as one,
In whom desire is waken'd, and the hope
Of somewhat new to come fills with delight.
     Short space ensued; I was not held, I say,
Long in expectance, when I saw the heav'n
Wax more and more resplendent; and, "Behold,"
Cried Beatrice, "the triumphal hosts
Of Christ, and all the harvest reap'd at length
Of thy ascending up these spheres."  Meseem'd,
That, while she spake her image all did burn,
And in her eyes such fullness was of joy,
And I am fain to pass unconstrued by.
     As in the calm full moon, when Trivia smiles,
In peerless beauty, 'mid th' eternal nympus,
That paint through all its gulfs the blue profound
In bright pre-eminence so saw I there,
O'er million lamps a sun, from whom all drew
Their radiance as from ours the starry train:
And through the living light so lustrous glow'd
The substance, that my ken endur'd it not.
     O Beatrice!  sweet and precious guide!
Who cheer'd me with her comfortable words!
"Against the virtue, that o'erpow'reth thee,
Avails not to resist.  Here is the might,
And here the wisdom, which did open lay
The path, that had been yearned for so long,
Betwixt the heav'n and earth."  Like to the fire,
That, in a cloud imprison'd doth break out
Expansive, so that from its womb enlarg'd,
It falleth against nature to the ground;
Thus in that heav'nly banqueting my soul
Outgrew herself; and, in the transport lost.
Holds now remembrance none of what she was.
     "Ope thou thine eyes, and mark me: thou hast seen
Things, that empower thee to sustain my smile."
     I was as one, when a forgotten dream
Doth come across him, and he strives in vain
To shape it in his fantasy again,
Whenas that gracious boon was proffer'd me,
Which never may be cancel'd from the book,
Wherein the past is written.  Now were all
Those tongues to sound, that have on sweetest milk
Of Polyhymnia and her sisters fed
And fatten'd, not with all their help to boot,
Unto the thousandth parcel of the truth,
My song might shadow forth that saintly smile,
flow merely in her saintly looks it wrought.
And with such figuring of Paradise
The sacred strain must leap, like one, that meets
A sudden interruption to his road.
But he, who thinks how ponderous the theme,
And that 't is lain upon a mortal shoulder,
May pardon, if it tremble with the burden.
The track, our ventrous keel must furrow, brooks
No unribb'd pinnace, no self-sparing pilot.
     "Why doth my face," said Beatrice, "thus
Enamour thee, as that thou dost not turn
Unto the beautiful garden, blossoming
Beneath the rays of Christ?  Here is the rose,
Wherein the word divine was made incarnate;
And here the lilies, by whose odour known
The way of life was follow'd."  Prompt I heard
Her bidding, and encounter once again
The strife of aching vision.  As erewhile,
Through glance of sunlight, stream'd through broken cloud,
Mine eyes a flower-besprinkled mead have seen,
Though veil'd themselves in shade; so saw I there
Legions of splendours, on whom burning rays
Shed lightnings from above, yet saw I not
The fountain whence they flow'd.  O gracious virtue!
Thou, whose broad stamp is on them, higher up
Thou didst exalt thy glory to give room
To my o'erlabour'd sight: when at the name
Of that fair flower, whom duly I invoke
Both morn and eve, my soul, with all her might
Collected, on the goodliest ardour fix'd.
And, as the bright dimensions of the star
In heav'n excelling, as once here on earth
Were, in my eyeballs lively portray'd,
Lo!  from within the sky a cresset fell,
Circling in fashion of a diadem,
And girt the star, and hov'ring round it wheel'd.
     Whatever melody sounds sweetest here,
And draws the spirit most unto itself,
Might seem a rent cloud when it grates the thunder,
Compar'd unto the sounding of that lyre,
Wherewith the goodliest sapphire, that inlays
The floor of heav'n, was crown'd. " Angelic Love
I am, who thus with hov'ring flight enwheel
The lofty rapture from that womb inspir'd,
Where our desire did dwell: and round thee so,
Lady of Heav'n!  will hover; long as thou
Thy Son shalt follow, and diviner joy
Shall from thy presence gild the highest sphere."
     Such close was to the circling melody:
And, as it ended, all the other lights
Took up the strain, and echoed Mary's name.
     The robe, that with its regal folds enwraps
The world, and with the nearer breath of God
Doth burn and quiver, held so far retir'd
Its inner hem and skirting over us,
That yet no glimmer of its majesty
Had stream'd unto me: therefore were mine eyes
Unequal to pursue the crowned flame,
That rose and sought its natal seed of fire;
And like to babe, that stretches forth its arms
For very eagerness towards the breast,
After the milk is taken; so outstretch'd
Their wavy summits all the fervent band,
Through zealous love to Mary: then in view
There halted, and "Regina Coeli " sang
So sweetly, the delight hath left me never.
     O what o'erflowing plenty is up-pil'd
In those rich-laden coffers, which below
Sow'd the good seed, whose harvest now they keep.
     Here are the treasures tasted, that with tears
Were in the Babylonian exile won,
When gold had fail'd them.  Here in synod high
Of ancient council with the new conven'd,
Under the Son of Mary and of God,
Victorious he his mighty triumph holds,
To whom the keys of glory were assign'd.
"O ye!  in chosen fellowship advanc'd
To the great supper of the blessed Lamb,
Whereon who feeds hath every wish fulfill'd!
If to this man through God's grace be vouchsaf'd
Foretaste of that, which from your table falls,
Or ever death his fated term prescribe;
Be ye not heedless of his urgent will;
But may some influence of your sacred dews
Sprinkle him.  Of the fount ye alway drink,
Whence flows what most he craves."  Beatrice spake,
And the rejoicing spirits, like to spheres
On firm-set poles revolving, trail'd a blaze
Of comet splendour; and as wheels, that wind
Their circles in the horologe, so work
The stated rounds, that to th' observant eye
The first seems still, and, as it flew, the last;
E'en thus their carols weaving variously,
They by the measure pac'd, or swift, or slow,
Made me to rate the riches of their joy.
     From that, which I did note in beauty most
Excelling, saw I issue forth a flame
So bright, as none was left more goodly there.
Round Beatrice thrice it wheel'd about,
With so divine a song, that fancy's ear
Records it not; and the pen passeth on
And leaves a blank: for that our mortal speech,
Nor e'en the inward shaping of the brain,
Hath colours fine enough to trace such folds.
     "O saintly sister mine!  thy prayer devout
Is with so vehement affection urg'd,
Thou dost unbind me from that beauteous sphere."
     Such were the accents towards my lady breath'd
From that blest ardour, soon as it was stay'd:
To whom she thus:  "O everlasting light
Of him, within whose mighty grasp our Lord
Did leave the keys, which of this wondrous bliss
He bare below!  tent this man, as thou wilt,
With lighter probe or deep, touching the faith,
By the which thou didst on the billows walk.
If he in love, in hope, and in belief,
Be steadfast, is not hid from thee: for thou
Hast there thy ken, where all things are beheld
In liveliest portraiture.  But since true faith
Has peopled this fair realm with citizens,
Meet is, that to exalt its glory more,
Thou in his audience shouldst thereof discourse."
     Like to the bachelor, who arms himself,
And speaks not, till the master have propos'd
The question, to approve, and not to end it;
So I, in silence, arm'd me, while she spake,
Summoning up each argument to aid;
As was behooveful for such questioner,
And such profession:  "As good Christian ought,
Declare thee, What is faith?"  Whereat I rais'd
My forehead to the light, whence this had breath'd,
Then turn'd to Beatrice, and in her looks
Approval met, that from their inmost fount
I should unlock the waters.  "May the grace,
That giveth me the captain of the church
For confessor," said I, "vouchsafe to me
Apt utterance for my thoughts!" then added:  "Sire!
E'en as set down by the unerring style
Of thy dear brother, who with thee conspir'd
To bring Rome in unto the way of life,
Faith of things hop'd is substance, and the proof
Of things not seen; and herein doth consist
Methinks its essence,"--" Rightly hast thou deem'd,"
Was answer'd:  "if thou well discern, why first
He hath defin'd it, substance, and then proof."
     "The deep things," I replied, "which here I scan
Distinctly, are below from mortal eye
So hidden, they have in belief alone
Their being, on which credence hope sublime
Is built; and therefore substance it intends.
And inasmuch as we must needs infer
From such belief our reasoning, all respect
To other view excluded, hence of proof
Th' intention is deriv'd."  Forthwith I heard:
"If thus, whate'er by learning men attain,
Were understood, the sophist would want room
To exercise his wit."  So breath'd the flame
Of love: then added:  "Current is the coin
Thou utter'st, both in weight and in alloy.
But tell me, if thou hast it in thy purse."
     "Even so glittering and so round," said I,
"I not a whit misdoubt of its assay."
     Next issued from the deep imbosom'd splendour:
"Say, whence the costly jewel, on the which
Is founded every virtue, came to thee."
"The flood," I answer'd, "from the Spirit of God
Rain'd down upon the ancient bond and new,--
Here is the reas'ning, that convinceth me
So feelingly, each argument beside
Seems blunt and forceless in comparison."
Then heard I:  "Wherefore holdest thou that each,
The elder proposition and the new,
Which so persuade thee, are the voice of heav'n?"
     "The works, that follow'd, evidence their truth; "
I answer'd:  "Nature did not make for these
The iron hot, or on her anvil mould them."
"Who voucheth to thee of the works themselves,
Was the reply, "that they in very deed
Are that they purport?  None hath sworn so to thee."
     "That all the world," said I, "should have bee turn'd
To Christian, and no miracle been wrought,
Would in itself be such a miracle,
The rest were not an hundredth part so great.
E'en thou wentst forth in poverty and hunger
To set the goodly plant, that from the vine,
It once was, now is grown unsightly bramble."
That ended, through the high celestial court
Resounded all the spheres.  "Praise we one God!"
In song of most unearthly melody.
And when that Worthy thus, from branch to branch,
Examining, had led me, that we now
Approach'd the topmost bough, he straight resum'd;
"The grace, that holds sweet dalliance with thy soul,
So far discreetly hath thy lips unclos'd
That, whatsoe'er has past them, I commend.
Behooves thee to express, what thou believ'st,
The next, and whereon thy belief hath grown."
     "O saintly sire and spirit!"  I began,
"Who seest that, which thou didst so believe,
As to outstrip feet younger than thine own,
Toward the sepulchre?  thy will is here,
That I the tenour of my creed unfold;
And thou the cause of it hast likewise ask'd.
And I reply: I in one God believe,
One sole eternal Godhead, of whose love
All heav'n is mov'd, himself unmov'd the while.
Nor demonstration physical alone,
Or more intelligential and abstruse,
Persuades me to this faith; but from that truth
It cometh to me rather, which is shed
Through Moses, the rapt Prophets, and the Psalms.
The Gospel, and that ye yourselves did write,
When ye were gifted of the Holy Ghost.
In three eternal Persons I believe,
Essence threefold and one, mysterious league
Of union absolute, which, many a time,
The word of gospel lore upon my mind
Imprints: and from this germ, this firstling spark,
The lively flame dilates, and like heav'n's star
Doth glitter in me.''  As the master hears,
Well pleas'd, and then enfoldeth in his arms
The servant, who hath joyful tidings brought,
And having told the errand keeps his peace;
Thus benediction uttering with song
Soon as my peace I held, compass'd me thrice
The apostolic radiance, whose behest
Had op'd lips; so well their answer pleas'd.
If e'er the sacred poem that hath made
Both heav'n and earth copartners in its toil,
And with lean abstinence, through many a year,
Faded my brow, be destin'd to prevail
Over the cruelty, which bars me forth
Of the fair sheep-fold, where a sleeping lamb
The wolves set on and fain had worried me,
With other voice and fleece of other grain
I shall forthwith return, and, standing up
At my baptismal font, shall claim the wreath
Due to the poet's temples: for I there
First enter'd on the faith which maketh souls
Acceptable to God: and, for its sake,
Peter had then circled my forehead thus.
     Next from the squadron, whence had issued forth
The first fruit of Christ's vicars on the earth,
Toward us mov'd a light, at view whereof
My Lady, full of gladness, spake to me:
"Lo!  lo!  behold the peer of mickle might,
That makes Falicia throng'd with visitants!"
     As when the ring-dove by his mate alights,
In circles each about the other wheels,
And murmuring cooes his fondness; thus saw I
One, of the other great and glorious prince,
With kindly greeting hail'd, extolling both
Their heavenly banqueting; but when an end
Was to their gratulation, silent, each,
Before me sat they down, so burning bright,
I could not look upon them.  Smiling then,
Beatrice spake:  "O life in glory shrin'd!"
Who didst the largess of our kingly court
Set down with faithful pen!  let now thy voice
Of hope the praises in this height resound.
For thou, who figur'st them in shapes, as clear,
As Jesus stood before thee, well can'st speak them."
     "Lift up thy head, and be thou strong in trust:
For that, which hither from the mortal world
Arriveth, must be ripen'd in our beam."
     Such cheering accents from the second flame
Assur'd me; and mine eyes I lifted up
Unto the mountains that had bow'd them late
With over-heavy burden.  "Sith our Liege
Wills of his grace that thou, or ere thy death,
In the most secret council, with his lords
Shouldst be confronted, so that having view'd
The glories of our court, thou mayst therewith
Thyself, and all who hear, invigorate
With hope, that leads to blissful end; declare,
What is that hope, how it doth flourish in thee,
And whence thou hadst it?"  Thus proceeding still,
The second light: and she, whose gentle love
My soaring pennons in that lofty flight
Escorted, thus preventing me, rejoin'd:
Among her sons, not one more full of hope,
Hath the church militant: so 't is of him
Recorded in the sun, whose liberal orb
Enlighteneth all our tribe: and ere his term
Of warfare, hence permitted he is come,
From Egypt to Jerusalem, to see.
The other points, both which thou hast inquir'd,
Not for more knowledge, but that he may tell
How dear thou holdst the virtue, these to him
Leave I; for he may answer thee with ease,
And without boasting, so God give him grace."
Like to the scholar, practis'd in his task,
Who, willing to give proof of diligence,
Seconds his teacher gladly, "Hope," said I,
"Is of the joy to come a sure expectance,
Th' effect of grace divine and merit preceding.
This light from many a star visits my heart,
But flow'd to me the first from him, who sang
The songs of the Supreme, himself supreme
Among his tuneful brethren.  'Let all hope
In thee,' so speak his anthem, 'who have known
Thy name;' and with my faith who know not that?
From thee, the next, distilling from his spring,
In thine epistle, fell on me the drops
So plenteously, that I on others shower
The influence of their dew."  Whileas I spake,
A lamping, as of quick and vollied lightning,
Within the bosom of that mighty sheen,
Play'd tremulous; then forth these accents breath'd:
"Love for the virtue which attended me
E'en to the palm, and issuing from the field,
Glows vigorous yet within me, and inspires
To ask of thee, whom also it delights;
What promise thou from hope in chief dost win."
     "Both scriptures, new and ancient," I reply'd;
"Propose the mark (which even now I view)
For souls belov'd of God. Isaias saith,
     That, in their own land, each one must be clad
In twofold vesture; and their proper lands this delicious life.
In terms more full,
And clearer far, thy brother hath set forth
This revelation to us, where he tells
Of the white raiment destin'd to the saints."
And, as the words were ending, from above,
"They hope in thee," first heard we cried: whereto
Answer'd the carols all.  Amidst them next,
A light of so clear amplitude emerg'd,
That winter's month were but a single day,
Were such a crystal in the Cancer's sign.
     Like as a virgin riseth up, and goes,
And enters on the mazes of the dance,
Though gay, yet innocent of worse intent,
Than to do fitting honour to the bride;
So I beheld the new effulgence come
Unto the other two, who in a ring
Wheel'd, as became their rapture.  In the dance
And in the song it mingled.  And the dame
Held on them fix'd her looks: e'en as the spouse
Silent and moveless.  "This is he, who lay
Upon the bosom of our pelican:
This he, into whose keeping from the cross
The mighty charge was given."  Thus she spake,
Yet therefore naught the more remov'd her Sight
From marking them, or ere her words began,
Or when they clos'd.  As he, who looks intent,
And strives with searching ken, how he may see
The sun in his eclipse, and, through desire
Of seeing, loseth power of sight: so I
Peer'd on that last resplendence, while I heard:
"Why dazzlest thou thine eyes in seeking that,
Which here abides not?  Earth my body is,
In earth: and shall be, with the rest, so long,
As till our number equal the decree
Of the Most High.  The two that have ascended,
In this our blessed cloister, shine alone
With the two garments.  So report below."
     As when, for ease of labour, or to shun
Suspected peril at a whistle's breath,
The oars, erewhile dash'd frequent in the wave,
All rest; the flamy circle at that voice
So rested, and the mingling sound was still,
Which from the trinal band soft-breathing rose.
I turn'd, but ah!  how trembled in my thought,
When, looking at my side again to see
Beatrice, I descried her not, although
Not distant, on the happy coast she stood.
With dazzled eyes, whilst wond'ring I remain'd,
Forth of the beamy flame which dazzled me,
Issued a breath, that in attention mute
Detain'd me; and these words it spake:  "'T were well,
That, long as till thy vision, on my form
O'erspent, regain its virtue, with discourse
Thou compensate the brief delay.  Say then,
Beginning, to what point thy soul aspires:
And meanwhile rest assur'd, that sight in thee
Is but o'erpowered a space, not wholly quench'd:
Since thy fair guide and lovely, in her look
Hath potency, the like to that which dwelt
In Ananias' hand.'' I answering thus:
"Be to mine eyes the remedy or late
Or early, at her pleasure; for they were
The gates, at which she enter'd, and did light
Her never dying fire.  My wishes here
Are centered; in this palace is the weal,
That Alpha and Omega, is to all
The lessons love can read me."  Yet again
The voice which had dispers'd my fear, when daz'd
With that excess, to converse urg'd, and spake:
"Behooves thee sift more narrowly thy terms,
And say, who level'd at this scope thy bow."
     "Philosophy," said I, ''hath arguments,
And this place hath authority enough
'T' imprint in me such love: for, of constraint,
Good, inasmuch as we perceive the good,
Kindles our love, and in degree the more,
As it comprises more of goodness in 't.
The essence then, where such advantage is,
That each good, found without it, is naught else
But of his light the beam, must needs attract
The soul of each one, loving, who the truth
Discerns, on which this proof is built.  Such truth
Learn I from him, who shows me the first love
Of all intelligential substances
Eternal: from his voice I learn, whose word
Is truth, that of himself to Moses saith,
'I will make all my good before thee pass.'
Lastly from thee I learn, who chief proclaim'st,
E'en at the outset of thy heralding,
In mortal ears the mystery of heav'n."
     "Through human wisdom, and th' authority
Therewith agreeing," heard I answer'd, "keep
The choicest of thy love for God.  But say,
If thou yet other cords within thee feel'st
That draw thee towards him; so that thou report
How many are the fangs, with which this love
Is grappled to thy soul."  I did not miss,
To what intent the eagle of our Lord
Had pointed his demand; yea noted well
Th' avowal, which he led to; and resum'd:
"All grappling bonds, that knit the heart to God,
Confederate to make fast our clarity.
The being of the world, and mine own being,
The death which he endur'd that I should live,
And that, which all the faithful hope, as I do,
To the foremention'd lively knowledge join'd,
Have from the sea of ill love sav'd my bark,
And on the coast secur'd it of the right.
As for the leaves, that in the garden bloom,
My love for them is great, as is the good
Dealt by th' eternal hand, that tends them all."
     I ended, and therewith a song most sweet
Rang through the spheres; and "Holy, holy, holy,"
Accordant with the rest my lady sang.
And as a sleep is broken and dispers'd
Through sharp encounter of the nimble light,
With the eye's spirit running forth to meet
The ray, from membrane on to the membrane urg'd;
And the upstartled wight loathes that be sees;
So, at his sudden waking, he misdeems
Of all around him, till assurance waits
On better judgment: thus the saintly came
Drove from before mine eyes the motes away,
With the resplendence of her own, that cast
Their brightness downward, thousand miles below.
Whence I my vision, clearer shall before,
Recover'd; and, well nigh astounded, ask'd
Of a fourth light, that now with us I saw.
     And Beatrice:  "The first diving soul,
That ever the first virtue fram'd, admires
Within these rays his Maker."  Like the leaf,
That bows its lithe top till the blast is blown;
By its own virtue rear'd then stands aloof;
So I, the whilst she said, awe-stricken bow'd.
Then eagerness to speak embolden'd me;
And I began: "O fruit!  that wast alone
Mature, when first engender'd!  Ancient father!
That doubly seest in every wedded bride
Thy daughter by affinity and blood!
Devoutly as I may, I pray thee hold
Converse with me: my will thou seest; and I,
More speedily to hear thee, tell it not "
     It chanceth oft some animal bewrays,
Through the sleek cov'ring of his furry coat.
The fondness, that stirs in him and conforms
His outside seeming to the cheer within:
And in like guise was Adam's spirit mov'd
To joyous mood, that through the covering shone,
Transparent, when to pleasure me it spake:
"No need thy will be told, which I untold
Better discern, than thou whatever thing
Thou holdst most certain: for that will I see
In Him, who is truth's mirror, and Himself
Parhelion unto all things, and naught else
To him.  This wouldst thou hear; how long since God
Plac'd me high garden, from whose hounds
She led me up in this ladder, steep and long;
What space endur'd my season of delight;
Whence truly sprang the wrath that banish'd me;
And what the language, which I spake and fram'd
Not that I tasted of the tree, my son,
Was in itself the cause of that exile,
But only my transgressing of the mark
Assign'd me.  There, whence at thy lady's hest
The Mantuan mov'd him, still was I debarr'd
This council, till the sun had made complete,
Four thousand and three hundred rounds and twice,
His annual journey; and, through every light
In his broad pathway, saw I him return,
Thousand save sev'nty times, the whilst I dwelt
Upon the earth.  The language I did use
Was worn away, or ever Nimrod's race
Their unaccomplishable work began.
For naught, that man inclines to, ere was lasting,
Left by his reason free, and variable,
As is the sky that sways him.  That he speaks,
Is nature's prompting: whether thus or thus,
She leaves to you, as ye do most affect it.
Ere I descended into hell's abyss,
El was the name on earth of the Chief Good,
Whose joy enfolds me: Eli then 't was call'd
And so beseemeth: for, in mortals, use
Is as the leaf upon the bough; that goes,
And other comes instead.  Upon the mount
Most high above the waters, all my life,
Both innocent and guilty, did but reach
From the first hour, to that which cometh next
(As the sun changes quarter), to the sixth.
Then  "Glory to the Father, to the Son,
And to the Holy Spirit," rang aloud
Throughout all Paradise, that with the song
My spirit reel'd, so passing sweet the strain:
And what I saw was equal ecstasy;
One universal smile it seem'd of all things,
Joy past compare, gladness unutterable,
Imperishable life of peace and love,
Exhaustless riches and unmeasur'd bliss.
     Before mine eyes stood the four torches lit;
And that, which first had come, began to wax
In brightness, and in semblance such became,
As Jove might be, if he and Mars were birds,
And interchang'd their plumes.  Silence ensued,
Through the blest quire, by Him, who here appoints
Vicissitude of ministry, enjoin'd;
When thus I heard: "Wonder not, if my hue
Be chang'd; for, while I speak, these shalt thou see
All in like manner change with me.  My place
He who usurps on earth (my place, ay, mine,
Which in the presence of the Son of God
Is void), the same hath made my cemetery
A common sewer of puddle and of blood:
The more below his triumph, who from hence
Malignant fell."  Such colour, as the sun,
At eve or morning, paints and adverse cloud,
Then saw I sprinkled over all the sky.
And as th' unblemish'd dame, who in herself
Secure of censure, yet at bare report
Of other's failing, shrinks with maiden fear;
So Beatrice in her semblance chang'd:
And such eclipse in heav'n methinks was seen,
When the Most Holy suffer'd.  Then the words
Proceeded, with voice, alter'd from itself
So clean, the semblance did not alter more.
"Not to this end was Christ's spouse with my blood,
With that of Linus, and of Cletus fed:
That she might serve for purchase of base gold:
But for the purchase of this happy life
Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed,
And Urban, they, whose doom was not without
Much weeping seal'd.  No purpose was of our
That on the right hand of our successors
Part of the Christian people should be set,
And part upon their left; nor that the keys,
Which were vouchsaf'd me, should for ensign serve
Unto the banners, that do levy war
On the baptiz'd: nor I, for sigil-mark
Set upon sold and lying privileges;
Which makes me oft to bicker and turn red.
In shepherd's clothing greedy wolves below
Range wide o'er all the pastures.  Arm of God!
Why longer sleepst thou?  Caorsines and Gascona
Prepare to quaff our blood.  O good beginning
To what a vile conclusion must thou stoop!
But the high providence, which did defend
Through Scipio the world's glory unto Rome,
Will not delay its succour: and thou, son,
Who through thy mortal weight shall yet again
Return below, open thy lips, nor hide
What is by me not hidden."  As a Hood
Of frozen vapours streams adown the air,
What time the she-goat with her skiey horn
Touches the sun; so saw I there stream wide
The vapours, who with us had linger'd late
And with glad triumph deck th' ethereal cope.
Onward my sight their semblances pursued;
So far pursued, as till the space between
From its reach sever'd them: whereat the guide
Celestial, marking me no more intent
On upward gazing, said, "Look down and see
What circuit thou hast compass'd."  From the hour
When I before had cast my view beneath,
All the first region overpast I saw,
Which from the midmost to the bound'ry winds;
That onward thence from Gades I beheld
The unwise passage of Laertes' son,
And hitherward the shore, where thou, Europa!
Mad'st thee a joyful burden: and yet more
Of this dim spot had seen, but that the sun,
A constellation off and more, had ta'en
His progress in the zodiac underneath.
     Then by the spirit, that doth never leave
Its amorous dalliance with my lady's looks,
Back with redoubled ardour were mine eyes
Led unto her: and from her radiant smiles,
Whenas I turn'd me, pleasure so divine
Did lighten on me, that whatever bait
Or art or nature in the human flesh,
Or in its limn'd resemblance, can combine
Through greedy eyes to take the soul withal,
Were to her beauty nothing.  Its boon influence
From the fair nest of Leda rapt me forth,
And wafted on into the swiftest heav'n.
     What place for entrance Beatrice chose,
I may not say, so uniform was all,
Liveliest and loftiest.  She my secret wish
Divin'd; and with such gladness, that God's love
Seem'd from her visage shining, thus began:
"Here is the goal, whence motion on his race
Starts; motionless the centre, and the rest
All mov'd around.  Except the soul divine,
Place in this heav'n is none, the soul divine,
Wherein the love, which ruleth o'er its orb,
Is kindled, and the virtue that it sheds;
One circle, light and love, enclasping it,
As this doth clasp the others; and to Him,
Who draws the bound, its limit only known.
Measur'd itself by none, it doth divide
Motion to all, counted unto them forth,
As by the fifth or half ye count forth ten.
The vase, wherein time's roots are plung'd, thou seest,
Look elsewhere for the leaves.  O mortal lust!
That canst not lift thy head above the waves
Which whelm and sink thee down!  The will in man
Bears goodly blossoms; but its ruddy promise
Is, by the dripping of perpetual rain,
Made mere abortion: faith and innocence
Are met with but in babes, each taking leave
Ere cheeks with down are sprinkled; he, that fasts,
While yet a stammerer, with his tongue let loose
Gluts every food alike in every moon.
One yet a babbler, loves and listens to
His mother; but no sooner hath free use
Of speech, than he doth wish her in her grave.
So suddenly doth the fair child of him,
Whose welcome is the morn and eve his parting,
To negro blackness change her virgin white.
     "Thou, to abate thy wonder, note that none
Bears rule in earth, and its frail family
Are therefore wand'rers.  Yet before the date,
When through the hundredth in his reck'ning drops
Pale January must be shor'd aside
From winter's calendar, these heav'nly spheres
Shall roar so loud, that fortune shall be fain
To turn the poop, where she hath now the prow;
So that the fleet run onward; and true fruit,
Expected long, shall crown at last the bloom!"
CANTO XXVIII
So she who doth imparadise my soul,
Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life,
And bar'd the truth of poor mortality;
When lo!  as one who, in a mirror, spies
The shining of a flambeau at his back,
Lit sudden ore he deem of its approach,
And turneth to resolve him, if the glass
Have told him true, and sees the record faithful
As note is to its metre; even thus,
I well remember, did befall to me,
Looking upon the beauteous eyes, whence love
Had made the leash to take me.  As I turn'd;
And that, which, in their circles, none who spies,
Can miss of, in itself apparent, struck
On mine; a point I saw, that darted light
So sharp, no lid, unclosing, may bear up
Against its keenness.  The least star we view
From hence, had seem'd a moon, set by its side,
As star by side of star.  And so far off,
Perchance, as is the halo from the light
Which paints it, when most dense the vapour spreads,
There wheel'd about the point a circle of fire,
More rapid than the motion, which first girds
The world.  Then, circle after circle, round
Enring'd each other; till the seventh reach'd
Circumference so ample, that its bow,
Within the span of Juno's messenger,
lied scarce been held entire. Beyond the sev'nth,
Follow'd yet other two.  And every one,
As more in number distant from the first,
Was tardier in motion; and that glow'd
With flame most pure, that to the sparkle' of truth
Was nearest, as partaking most, methinks,
Of its reality.  The guide belov'd
Saw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake:
"Heav'n, and all nature, hangs upon that point.
The circle thereto most conjoin'd observe;
And know, that by intenser love its course
Is to this swiftness wing'd. "To whom I thus:
"It were enough; nor should I further seek,
Had I but witness'd order, in the world
Appointed, such as in these wheels is seen.
But in the sensible world such diff'rence is,
That is each round shows more divinity,
As each is wider from the centre.  Hence,
If in this wondrous and angelic temple,
That hath for confine only light and love,
My wish may have completion I must know,
Wherefore such disagreement is between
Th' exemplar and its copy: for myself,
Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause."
     "It is no marvel, if thy fingers foil'd
Do leave the knot untied: so hard 't is grown
For want of tenting."  Thus she said:  "But take,"
She added, "if thou wish thy cure, my words,
And entertain them subtly.  Every orb
Corporeal, doth proportion its extent
Unto the virtue through its parts diffus'd.
The greater blessedness preserves the more.
The greater is the body (if all parts
Share equally) the more is to preserve.
Therefore the circle, whose swift course enwheels
The universal frame answers to that,
Which is supreme in knowledge and in love
Thus by the virtue, not the seeming, breadth
Of substance, measure, thou shalt see the heav'ns,
Each to the' intelligence that ruleth it,
Greater to more, and smaller unto less,
Suited in strict and wondrous harmony."
     As when the sturdy north blows from his cheek
A blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air,
Clear'd of the rack, that hung on it before,
Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveil'd,
The firmament looks forth serene, and smiles;
Such was my cheer, when Beatrice drove
With clear reply the shadows back, and truth
Was manifested, as a star in heaven.
And when the words were ended, not unlike
To iron in the furnace, every cirque
Ebullient shot forth scintillating fires:
And every sparkle shivering to new blaze,
In number did outmillion the account
Reduplicate upon the chequer'd board.
Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir,
"Hosanna," to the fixed point, that holds,
And shall for ever hold them to their place,
From everlasting, irremovable.
     Musing awhile I stood: and she, who saw
by inward meditations, thus began:
"In the first circles, they, whom thou beheldst,
Are seraphim and cherubim.  Thus swift
Follow their hoops, in likeness to the point,
Near as they can, approaching; and they can
The more, the loftier their vision.  Those,
That round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next,
Are thrones; in whom the first trine ends.  And all
Are blessed, even as their sight descends
Deeper into the truth, wherein rest is
For every mind.  Thus happiness hath root
In seeing, not in  loving, which of sight
Is aftergrowth.  And of the seeing such
The meed, as unto each in due degree
Grace and good-will their measure have assign'd.
The other trine, that with still opening buds
In this eternal springtide blossom fair,
Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram,
Breathe up in warbled melodies threefold
Hosannas blending ever, from the three
Transmitted. hierarchy of gods, for aye
Rejoicing, dominations first, next then
Virtues, and powers the third.  The next to whom
Are princedoms and archangels, with glad round
To tread their festal ring; and last the band
Angelical, disporting in their sphere.
All, as they circle in their orders, look
Aloft, and downward with such sway prevail,
That all with mutual impulse tend to God.
These once a mortal view beheld.  Desire
In Dionysius so intently wrought,
That he, as I have done rang'd them; and nam'd
Their orders, marshal'd in his thought.  From him
Dissentient, one refus'd his sacred read.
But soon as in this heav'n his doubting eyes
Were open'd, Gregory at his error smil'd
Nor marvel, that a denizen of earth
Should scan such secret truth; for he had learnt
Both this and much beside of these our orbs,
From an eye-witness to heav'n's mysteries."
No longer than what time Latona's twins
Cover'd of Libra and the fleecy star,
Together both, girding the' horizon hang,
In even balance from the zenith pois'd,
Till from that verge, each, changing hemisphere,
Part the nice level; e'en so brief a space
Did Beatrice's silence hold.  A smile
Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix'd gaze
Bent on the point, at which my vision fail'd:
When thus her words resuming she began:
"I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand;
For I have mark'd it, where all time and place
Are present.  Not for increase to himself
Of good, which may not be increas'd, but forth
To manifest his glory by its beams,
Inhabiting his own eternity,
Beyond time's limit or what bound soe'er
To circumscribe his being, as he will'd,
Into new natures, like unto himself,
Eternal Love unfolded.  Nor before,
As if in dull inaction torpid lay.
For not in process of before or aft
Upon these waters mov'd the Spirit of God.
Simple and mix'd, both form and substance, forth
To perfect being started, like three darts
Shot from a bow three-corded.  And as ray
In crystal, glass, and amber, shines entire,
E'en at the moment of its issuing; thus
Did, from th' eternal Sovran, beam entire
His threefold operation, at one act
Produc'd coeval.  Yet in order each
Created his due station knew: those highest,
Who pure intelligence were made: mere power
The lowest: in the midst, bound with strict league,
Intelligence and power, unsever'd bond.
Long tract of ages by the angels past,
Ere the creating of another world,
Describ'd on Jerome's pages thou hast seen.
But that what I disclose to thee is true,
Those penmen, whom the Holy Spirit mov'd
In many a passage of their sacred book
Attest; as thou by diligent search shalt find
And reason in some sort discerns the same,
Who scarce would grant the heav'nly ministers
Of their perfection void, so long a space.
Thus when and where these spirits of love were made,
Thou know'st, and how: and knowing hast allay'd
Thy thirst, which from the triple question rose.
Ere one had reckon'd twenty, e'en so soon
Part of the angels fell: and in their fall
Confusion to your elements ensued.
The others kept their station: and this task,
Whereon thou lookst, began with such delight,
That they surcease not ever, day nor night,
Their circling.  Of that fatal lapse the cause
Was the curst pride of him, whom thou hast seen
Pent with the world's incumbrance.  Those, whom here
Thou seest, were lowly to confess themselves
Of his free bounty, who had made them apt
For ministries so high: therefore their views
Were by enlight'ning grace and their own merit
Exalted; so that in their will confirm'd
They stand, nor feel to fall.  For do not doubt,
But to receive the grace, which heav'n vouchsafes,
Is meritorious, even as the soul
With prompt affection welcometh the guest.
Now, without further help, if with good heed
My words thy mind have treasur'd, thou henceforth
This consistory round about mayst scan,
And gaze thy fill.  But since thou hast on earth
Heard vain disputers, reasoners in the schools,
Canvas the' angelic nature, and dispute
Its powers of apprehension, memory, choice;
Therefore, 't is well thou take from me the truth,
Pure and without disguise, which they below,
Equivocating, darken and perplex.
     "Know thou, that, from the first, these substances,
Rejoicing in the countenance of God,
Have held unceasingly their view, intent
Upon the glorious vision, from the which
Naught absent is nor hid: where then no change
Of newness with succession interrupts,
Remembrance there needs none to gather up
Divided thought and images remote
     "So that men, thus at variance with the truth
Dream, though their eyes be open; reckless some
Of error; others well aware they err,
To whom more guilt and shame are justly due.
Each the known track of sage philosophy
Deserts, and has a byway of his own:
So much the restless eagerness to shine
And love of singularity prevail.
Yet this, offensive as it is, provokes
Heav'n's anger less, than when the book of God
Is forc'd to yield to man's authority,
Or from its straightness warp'd: no reck'ning made
What blood the sowing of it in the world
Has cost; what favour for himself he wins,
Who meekly clings to it.  The aim of all
Is how to shine: e'en they, whose office is
To preach the Gospel, let the gospel sleep,
And pass their own inventions off instead.
One tells, how at Christ's suffering the wan moon
Bent back her steps, and shadow'd o'er the sun
With intervenient disk, as she withdrew:
Another, how the light shrouded itself
Within its tabernacle, and left dark
The Spaniard and the Indian, with the Jew.
Such fables Florence in her pulpit hears,
Bandied about more frequent, than the names
Of Bindi and of Lapi in her streets.
The sheep, meanwhile, poor witless ones, return
From pasture, fed with wind: and what avails
For their excuse, they do not see their harm?
Christ said not to his first conventicle,
'Go forth and preach impostures to the world,'
But gave them truth to build on; and the sound
Was mighty on their lips; nor needed they,
Beside the gospel, other spear or shield,
To aid them in their warfare for the faith.
The preacher now provides himself with store
Of jests and gibes; and, so there be no lack
Of laughter, while he vents them, his big cowl
Distends, and he has won the meed he sought:
Could but the vulgar catch a glimpse the while
Of that dark bird which nestles in his hood,
They scarce would wait to hear the blessing said.
Which now the dotards hold in such esteem,
That every counterfeit, who spreads abroad
The hands of holy promise, finds a throng
Of credulous fools beneath.  Saint Anthony
Fattens with this his swine, and others worse
Than swine, who diet at his lazy board,
Paying with unstamp'd metal for their fare.
     "But (for we far have wander'd) let us seek
The forward path again; so as the way
Be shorten'd with the time.  No mortal tongue
Nor thought of man hath ever reach'd so far,
That of these natures he might count the tribes.
What Daniel of their thousands hath reveal'd
With finite number infinite conceals.
The fountain at whose source these drink their beams,
With light supplies them in as many modes,
As there are splendours, that it shines on: each
According to the virtue it conceives,
Differing in love and sweet affection.
Look then how lofty and how huge in breadth
The' eternal might, which, broken and dispers'd
Over such countless mirrors, yet remains
Whole in itself and one, as at the first."
Noon's fervid hour perchance six thousand miles
From hence is distant; and the shadowy cone
Almost to level on our earth declines;
When from the midmost of this blue abyss
By turns some star is to our vision lost.
And straightway as the handmaid of the sun
Puts forth her radiant brow, all, light by light,
Fade, and the spangled firmament shuts in,
E'en to the loveliest of the glittering throng.
Thus vanish'd gradually from my sight
The triumph, which plays ever round the point,
That overcame me, seeming (for it did)
Engirt by that it girdeth.  Wherefore love,
With loss of other object, forc'd me bend
Mine eyes on Beatrice once again.
     If all, that hitherto is told of her,
Were in one praise concluded, 't were too weak
To furnish out this turn.  Mine eyes did look
On beauty, such, as I believe in sooth,
Not merely to exceed our human, but,
That save its Maker, none can to the full
Enjoy it.  At this point o'erpower'd I fail,
Unequal to my theme, as never bard
Of buskin or of sock hath fail'd before.
For, as the sun doth to the feeblest sight,
E'en so remembrance of that witching smile
Hath dispossess my spirit of itself.
Not from that day, when on this earth I first
Beheld her charms, up to that view of them,
Have I with song applausive ever ceas'd
To follow, but not follow them no more;
My course here bounded, as each artist's is,
When it doth touch the limit of his skill.
     She (such as I bequeath her to the bruit
Of louder trump than mine, which hasteneth on,
Urging its arduous matter to the close),
Her words resum'd, in gesture and in voice
Resembling one accustom'd to command:
"Forth from the last corporeal are we come
Into the heav'n, that is unbodied light,
Light intellectual replete with love,
Love of true happiness replete with joy,
Joy, that transcends all sweetness of delight.
Here shalt thou look on either mighty host
Of Paradise; and one in that array,
Which in the final judgment thou shalt see."
     As when the lightning, in a sudden spleen
Unfolded, dashes from the blinding eyes
The visive spirits dazzled and bedimm'd;
So, round about me, fulminating streams
Of living radiance play'd, and left me swath'd
And veil'd in dense impenetrable blaze.
Such weal is in the love, that stills this heav'n;
For its own flame the torch this fitting ever!
     No sooner to my list'ning ear had come
The brief assurance, than I understood
New virtue into me infus'd, and sight
Kindled afresh, with vigour to sustain
Excess of light, however pure.  I look'd;
And in the likeness of a river saw
Light flowing, from whose amber-seeming waves
Flash'd up effulgence, as they glided on
'Twixt banks, on either side, painted with spring,
Incredible how fair; and, from the tide,
There ever and anon, outstarting, flew
Sparkles instinct with life; and in the flow'rs
Did set them, like to rubies chas'd in gold;
Then, as if drunk with odors, plung'd again
Into the wondrous flood; from which, as one
Re'enter'd, still another rose.  "The thirst
Of knowledge high, whereby thou art inflam'd,
To search the meaning of what here thou seest,
The more it warms thee, pleases me the more.
But first behooves thee of this water drink,
Or ere that longing be allay'd."  So spake
The day-star of mine eyes; then thus subjoin'd:
"This stream, and these, forth issuing from its gulf,
And diving back, a living topaz each,
With all this laughter on its bloomy shores,
Are but a preface, shadowy of the truth
They emblem: not that, in themselves, the things
Are crude; but on thy part is the defect,
For that thy views not yet aspire so high."
Never did babe, that had outslept his wont,
Rush, with such eager straining, to the milk,
As I toward the water, bending me,
To make the better mirrors of mine eyes
In the refining wave; and, as the eaves
Of mine eyelids did drink of it, forthwith
Seem'd it unto me turn'd from length to round,
Then as a troop of maskers, when they put
Their vizors off, look other than before,
The counterfeited semblance thrown aside;
So into greater jubilee were chang'd
Those flowers and sparkles, and distinct I saw
Before me either court of heav'n displac'd.
     O prime enlightener!  thou who crav'st me strength
On the high triumph of thy realm to gaze!
Grant virtue now to utter what I kenn'd,
    There is in heav'n a light, whose goodly shine
Makes the Creator visible to all
Created, that in seeing him alone
Have peace; and in a circle spreads so far,
That the circumference were too loose a zone
To girdle in the sun.  All is one beam,
Reflected from the summit of the first,
That moves, which being hence and vigour takes,
And as some cliff, that from the bottom eyes
Its image mirror'd in the crystal flood,
As if 't admire its brave appareling
Of verdure and of flowers: so, round about,
Eyeing the light, on more than million thrones,
Stood, eminent, whatever from our earth
Has to the skies return'd.  How wide the leaves
Extended to their utmost of this rose,
Whose lowest step embosoms such a space
Of ample radiance!  Yet, nor amplitude
Nor height impeded, but my view with ease
Took in the full dimensions of that joy.
Near or remote, what there avails, where God
Immediate rules, and Nature, awed, suspends
Her sway?  Into the yellow of the rose
Perennial, which in bright expansiveness,
Lays forth its gradual blooming, redolent
Of praises to the never-wint'ring sun,
As one, who fain would speak yet holds his peace,
Beatrice led me; and, "Behold," she said,
"This fair assemblage!  stoles of snowy white
How numberless!  The city, where we dwell,
Behold how vast!  and these our seats so throng'd
Few now are wanting here!  In that proud stall,
On which, the crown, already o'er its state
Suspended, holds thine eyes--or ere thyself
Mayst at the wedding sup,--shall rest the soul
Of the great Harry, he who, by the world
Augustas hail'd, to Italy must come,
Before her day be ripe.  But ye are sick,
And in your tetchy wantonness as blind,
As is the bantling, that of hunger dies,
And drives away the nurse.  Nor may it be,
That he, who in the sacred forum sways,
Openly or in secret, shall with him
Accordant walk: Whom God will not endure
I' th' holy office long; but thrust him down
To Simon Magus, where Magna's priest
Will sink beneath him: such will be his meed."
In fashion, as a snow-white rose, lay then
Before my view the saintly multitude,
Which in his own blood Christ espous'd.  Meanwhile
That other host, that soar aloft to gaze
And celebrate his glory, whom they love,
Hover'd around; and, like a troop of bees,
Amid the vernal sweets alighting now,
Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows,
Flew downward to the mighty flow'r, or rose
From the redundant petals, streaming back
Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy.
Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold;
The rest was whiter than the driven snow.
And as they flitted down into the flower,
From range to range, fanning their plumy loins,
Whisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won
From that soft winnowing.  Shadow none, the vast
Interposition of such numerous flight
Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view
Obstructed aught.  For, through the universe,
Wherever merited, celestial light
Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents.
     All there, who reign in safety and in bliss,
Ages long past or new, on one sole mark
Their love and vision fix'd.  O trinal beam
Of individual star, that charmst them thus,
Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below!
     If the grim brood, from Arctic shores that roam'd,
(Where helice, forever, as she wheels,
Sparkles a mother's fondness on her son)
Stood in mute wonder 'mid the works of Rome,
When to their view the Lateran arose
In greatness more than earthly; I, who then
From human to divine had past, from time
Unto eternity, and out of Florence
To justice and to truth, how might I choose
But marvel too?  'Twixt gladness and amaze,
In sooth no will had I to utter aught,
Or hear.  And, as a pilgrim, when he rests
Within the temple of his vow, looks round
In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell
Of all its goodly state: e'en so mine eyes
Cours'd up and down along the living light,
Now low, and now aloft, and now around,
Visiting every step.  Looks I beheld,
Where charity in soft persuasion sat,
Smiles from within and radiance from above,
And in each gesture grace and honour high.
     So rov'd my ken, and its general form
All Paradise survey'd:  when round I turn'd
With purpose of my lady to inquire
Once more of things, that held my thought suspense,
But answer found from other than I ween'd;
For, Beatrice, when I thought to see,
I saw instead a senior, at my side,
 Rob'd, as the rest, in glory.  Joy benign
Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffus'd,
With gestures such as spake a father's love.
And, "Whither is she vanish'd?"  straight I ask'd.
     "By Beatrice summon'd," he replied,
"I come to aid thy wish.  Looking aloft
To the third circle from the highest, there
Behold her on the throne, wherein her merit
Hath plac'd her."  Answering not, mine eyes I rais'd,
And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow
A wreath reflecting of eternal beams.
Not from the centre of the sea so far
Unto the region of the highest thunder,
As was my ken from hers; and yet the form
Came through that medium down, unmix'd and pure,
     "O Lady!  thou in whom my hopes have rest!
Who, for my safety, hast not scorn'd, in hell
To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd!
For all mine eyes have seen, I, to thy power
And goodness, virtue owe and grace.  Of slave,
Thou hast to freedom brought me; and no means,
For my deliverance apt, hast left untried.
Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep.
That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole,
Is loosen'd from this body, it may find
Favour with thee."  So I my suit preferr'd:
And she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down,
And smil'd; then tow'rds th' eternal fountain turn'd.
     And thus the senior, holy and rever'd:
"That thou at length mayst happily conclude
Thy voyage (to which end I was dispatch'd,
By supplication mov'd and holy love)
Let thy upsoaring vision range, at large,
This garden through: for so, by ray divine
Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount;
And from heav'n's queen, whom fervent I adore,
All gracious aid befriend us; for that I
Am her own faithful Bernard."  Like a wight,
Who haply from Croatia wends to see
Our Veronica, and the while 't is shown,
Hangs over it with never-sated gaze,
And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith
Unto himself in thought:  "And didst thou look
E'en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and God?
And was this semblance thine?"  So gaz'd I then
Adoring; for the charity of him,
Who musing, in the world that peace enjoy'd,
Stood lively before me.  "Child of grace!"
Thus he began:  "thou shalt not knowledge gain
Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held
Still in this depth below.  But search around
The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy
Seated in state, the queen, that of this realm
Is sovran."  Straight mine eyes I rais'd; and bright,
As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime
Above th' horizon, where the sun declines;
To mine eyes, that upward, as from vale
To mountain sped, at th' extreme bound, a part
Excell'd in lustre all the front oppos'd.
And as the glow burns ruddiest o'er the wave,
That waits the sloping beam, which Phaeton
Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light
Diminish'd fades, intensest in the midst;
So burn'd the peaceful oriflamb, and slack'd
On every side the living flame decay'd.
And in that midst their sportive pennons wav'd
Thousands of angels; in resplendence each
Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee
And carol, smil'd the Lovely One of heav'n,
That joy was in the eyes of all the blest.
     Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich,
As is the colouring in fancy's loom,
'T were all too poor to utter the least part
Of that enchantment.  When he saw mine eyes
Intent on her, that charm'd him, Bernard gaz'd
With so exceeding fondness, as infus'd
Ardour into my breast, unfelt before.
Freely the sage, though wrapt in musings high,
Assum'd the teacher's part, and mild began:
"The wound, that Mary clos'd, she open'd first,
Who sits so beautiful at Mary's feet.
The third in order, underneath her, lo!
Rachel with Beatrice. Sarah next,
Judith, Rebecca, and the gleaner maid,
Meek ancestress of him, who sang the songs
Of sore repentance in his sorrowful mood.
All, as I name them, down from deaf to leaf,
Are in gradation throned on the rose.
And from the seventh step, successively,
Adown the breathing tresses of the flow'r
Still doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed.
For these are a partition wall, whereby
The sacred stairs are sever'd, as the faith
In Christ divides them.  On this part, where blooms
Each leaf in full maturity, are set
Such as in Christ, or ere he came, believ'd.
On th' other, where an intersected space
Yet shows the semicircle void, abide
All they, who look'd to Christ already come.
And as our Lady on her glorious stool,
And they who on their stools beneath her sit,
This way distinction make: e'en so on his,
The mighty Baptist that way marks the line
(He who endur'd the desert and the pains
Of martyrdom, and for two years of hell,
Yet still continued holy), and beneath,
Augustin, Francis, Benedict, and the rest,
Thus far from round to round.  So heav'n's decree
Forecasts, this garden equally to fill.
With faith in either view, past or to come,
Learn too, that downward from the step, which cleaves
Midway the twain compartments, none there are
Who place obtain for merit of their own,
But have through others' merit been advanc'd,
On set conditions: spirits all releas'd,
Ere for themselves they had the power to choose.
And, if thou mark and listen to them well,
Their childish looks and voice declare as much.
     "Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt;
And gladly will I loose the knot, wherein
Thy subtle thoughts have bound thee.  From this realm
Excluded, chalice no entrance here may find,
No more shall hunger, thirst, or sorrow can.
A law immutable hath establish'd all;
Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit,
Exactly, as the finger to the ring.
It is not therefore without cause, that these,
O'erspeedy comers to immortal life,
Are different in their shares of excellence.
Our Sovran Lord--that settleth this estate
In love and in delight so absolute,
That wish can dare no further--every soul,
Created in his joyous sight to dwell,
With grace at pleasure variously endows.
And for a proof th' effect may well suffice.
And 't is moreover most expressly mark'd
In holy scripture, where the twins are said
To, have struggled in the womb.  Therefore, as grace
Inweaves the coronet, so every brow
Weareth its proper hue of orient light.
And merely in respect to his prime gift,
Not in reward of meritorious deed,
Hath each his several degree assign'd.
In early times with their own innocence
More was not wanting, than the parents' faith,
To save them: those first ages past, behoov'd
That circumcision in the males should imp
The flight of innocent wings:  but since the day
Of grace hath come, without baptismal rites
In Christ accomplish'd, innocence herself
Must linger yet below.  Now raise thy view
Unto the visage most resembling Christ:
For, in her splendour only, shalt thou win
The pow'r to look on him."  Forthwith I saw
Such floods of gladness on her visage shower'd,
From holy spirits, winging that profound;
That, whatsoever I had yet beheld,
Had not so much suspended me with wonder,
Or shown me such similitude of God.
And he, who had to her descended, once,
On earth, now hail'd in heav'n; and on pois'd wing.
"Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena," sang:
To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court,
From all parts answ'ring, rang: that holier joy
Brooded the deep serene.  "Father rever'd:
Who deign'st, for me, to quit the pleasant place,
Wherein thou sittest, by eternal lot!
Say, who that angel is, that with such glee
Beholds our queen, and so enamour'd glows
Of her high beauty, that all fire he seems."
So I again resorted to the lore
Of my wise teacher, he, whom Mary's charms
Embellish'd, as the sun the morning star;
Who thus in answer spake:  "In him are summ'd,
Whatever of buxomness and free delight
May be in Spirit, or in angel, met:
And so beseems:  for that he bare the palm
Down unto Mary, when the Son of God
Vouchsaf'd to clothe him in terrestrial weeds.
Now let thine eyes wait heedful on my words,
And note thou of this just and pious realm
The chiefest nobles.  Those, highest in bliss,
The twain, on each hand next our empress thron'd,
Are as it were two roots unto this rose.
He to the left, the parent, whose rash taste
Proves bitter to his seed; and, on the right,
That ancient father of the holy church,
Into whose keeping Christ did give the keys
Of this sweet flow'r: near whom behold the seer,
That, ere he died, saw all the grievous times
Of the fair bride, who with the lance and nails
Was won.  And, near unto the other, rests
The leader, under whom on manna fed
Th' ungrateful nation, fickle and perverse.
On th' other part, facing to Peter, lo!
Where Anna sits, so well content to look
On her lov'd daughter, that with moveless eye
She chants the loud hosanna:  while, oppos'd
To the first father of your mortal kind,
Is Lucia, at whose hest thy lady sped,
When on the edge of ruin clos'd thine eye.
     "But (for the vision hasteneth so an end)
Here break we off, as the good workman doth,
That shapes the cloak according to the cloth:
And to the primal love our ken shall rise;
That thou mayst penetrate the brightness, far
As sight can bear thee.  Yet, alas!  in sooth
Beating thy pennons, thinking to advance,
Thou backward fall'st.  Grace then must first be gain'd;
Her grace, whose might can help thee. Thou in prayer
Seek her: and, with affection, whilst I sue,
Attend, and yield me all thy heart."  He said,
And thus the saintly orison began.
CANTO XXXIII
"O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son,
Created beings all in lowliness
Surpassing, as in height, above them all,
Term by th' eternal counsel pre-ordain'd,
Ennobler of thy nature, so advanc'd
In thee, that its great Maker did not scorn,
Himself, in his own work enclos'd to dwell!
For in thy womb rekindling shone the love
Reveal'd, whose genial influence makes now
This flower to germin in eternal peace!
Here thou to us, of charity and love,
Art, as the noon-day torch: and art, beneath,
To mortal men, of hope a living spring.
So mighty art thou, lady!  and so great,
That he who grace desireth, and comes not
To thee for aidance, fain would have desire
Fly without wings.  Nor only him who asks,
Thy bounty succours, but doth freely oft
Forerun the asking.  Whatsoe'er may be
Of excellence in creature, pity mild,
Relenting mercy, large munificence,
Are all combin'd in thee.  Here kneeleth one,
Who of all spirits hath review'd the state,
From the world's lowest gap unto this height.
Suppliant to thee he kneels, imploring grace
For virtue, yet more high to lift his ken
Toward the bliss supreme.  And I, who ne'er
Coveted sight, more fondly, for myself,
Than now for him, my prayers to thee prefer,
(And pray they be not scant) that thou wouldst drive
Each cloud of his mortality away;
That on the sovran pleasure he may gaze.
This also I entreat of thee, O queen!
Who canst do what thou wilt!  that in him thou
Wouldst after all he hath beheld, preserve
Affection sound, and human passions quell.
Lo!  Where, with Beatrice, many a saint
Stretch their clasp'd hands, in furtherance of my suit!"
     The eyes, that heav'n with love and awe regards,
Fix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign
She looks on pious pray'rs: then fasten'd they
On th' everlasting light, wherein no eye
Of creature, as may well be thought, so far
Can travel inward.  I, meanwhile, who drew
Near to the limit, where all wishes end,
The ardour of my wish (for so behooved),
Ended within me. Beck'ning smil'd the sage,
That I should look aloft: but, ere he bade,
Already of myself aloft I look'd;
For visual strength, refining more and more,
Bare me into the ray authentical
Of sovran light.  Thenceforward, what I saw,
Was not for words to speak, nor memory's self
To stand against such outrage on her skill.
As one, who from a dream awaken'd, straight,
All he hath seen forgets; yet still retains
Impression of the feeling in his dream;
E'en such am I: for all the vision dies,
As 't were, away; and yet the sense of sweet,
That sprang from it, still trickles in my heart.
Thus in the sun-thaw is the snow unseal'd;
Thus in the winds on flitting leaves was lost
The Sybil's sentence.  O eternal beam!
(Whose height what reach of mortal thought may soar?)
Yield me again some little particle
Of what thou then appearedst, give my tongue
Power, but to leave one sparkle of thy glory,
Unto the race to come, that shall not lose
Thy triumph wholly, if thou waken aught
Of memory in me, and endure to hear
The record sound in this unequal strain.
     Such keenness from the living ray I met,
That, if mine eyes had turn'd away, methinks,
I had been lost; but, so embolden'd, on
I pass'd, as I remember, till my view
Hover'd the brink of dread infinitude.
     O grace!  unenvying of thy boon!  that gav'st
Boldness to fix so earnestly my ken
On th' everlasting splendour, that I look'd,
While sight was unconsum'd, and, in that depth,
Saw in one volume clasp'd of love, whatever
The universe unfolds; all properties
Of substance and of accident, beheld,
Compounded, yet one individual light
The whole.  And of such bond methinks I saw
The universal form: for that whenever
I do but speak of it, my soul dilates
Beyond her proper self; and, till I speak,
One moment seems a longer lethargy,
Than five-and-twenty ages had appear'd
To that emprize, that first made Neptune wonder
At Argo's shadow darkening on his flood.
     With fixed heed, suspense and motionless,
Wond'ring I gaz'd; and admiration still
Was kindled, as I gaz'd.  It may not be,
That one, who looks upon that light, can turn
To other object, willingly, his view.
For all the good, that will may covet, there
Is summ'd; and all, elsewhere defective found,
Complete.  My tongue shall utter now, no more
E'en what remembrance keeps, than could the babe's
That yet is moisten'd at his mother's breast.
Not that the semblance of the living light
Was chang'd (that ever as at first remain'd)
But that my vision quickening, in that sole
Appearance, still new miracles descry'd,
And toil'd me with the change.  In that abyss
Of radiance, clear and lofty, seem'd methought,
Three orbs of triple hue clipt in one bound:
And, from another, one reflected seem'd,
As rainbow is from rainbow: and the third
Seem'd fire, breath'd equally from both.  Oh speech
How feeble and how faint art thou, to give
Conception birth!  Yet this to what I saw
Is less than little.  Oh eternal light!
Sole in thyself that dwellst; and of thyself
Sole understood, past, present, or to come!
Thou smiledst; on that circling, which in thee
Seem'd as reflected splendour, while I mus'd;
For I therein, methought, in its own hue
Beheld our image painted: steadfastly
I therefore por'd upon the view.  As one
Who vers'd in geometric lore, would fain
Measure the circle; and, though pondering long
And deeply, that beginning, which he needs,
Finds not; e'en such was I, intent to scan
The novel wonder, and trace out the form,
How to the circle fitted, and therein
How plac'd: but the flight was not for my wing;
Had not a flash darted athwart my mind,
And in the spleen unfolded what it sought.
     Here vigour fail'd the tow'ring fantasy:
But yet the will roll'd onward, like a wheel
In even motion, by the Love impell'd,
That moves the sun in heav'n and all the stars.
NOTES TO PARADISE
Verse 12.  Benign Apollo.]  Chaucer has imitated this invention
very closely at the beginning of the Third Booke of Fame.
If, divine vertue, thou
Wilt helpe me to shewe  now
That in my head ymarked is,
     * * * * *
Thou shalt see me go as blive
Unto the next laurer I see,
And kisse it for it is thy tree
Now entre thou my breast anone.
v. 15.  Thus for.]  He appears to mean nothing more than that
this part of his poem will require a greater exertion of his
powers than the former.
v. 19.  Marsyas.]  Ovid, Met. 1. vi. fab. 7.  Compare Boccaccio,
II Filocopo, 1.  5. p. 25. v. ii. Ediz.  Fir.  1723.  "Egli nel
mio petto entri," &c. - "May he enter my bosom, and let my voice
sound like his own, when he made that daring mortal deserve to
come forth unsheathed from his limbs. "
v. 29.  Caesar, or bard.]  So Petrarch, Son.  Par. Prima.
Arbor vittoriosa e trionfale,
Onor d'imperadori e di poeti.
And Spenser, F. Q. b. i. c. 1.  st. 9,
The laurel, meed of mighty conquerours
And poets sage.
v. 37.  Through that.]  "Where the four circles, the horizon, the
zodiac, the equator, and the equinoctial colure, join; the last
threeintersecting each other so as to form three crosses, as may
be seen in the armillary sphere."
v. 39.  In happiest constellation.]  Aries.  Some understand the
planetVenus by the "miglior stella "
v. 44.  To the left.]  Being in the opposite hemisphere to ours,
Beatrice that she may behold the rising sun, turns herself to the
v. 47.  As from the first a second beam.]  "Like a reflected
sunbeam," which he compares to a pilgrim hastening homewards.
Ne simil tanto mal raggio secondo
Dal primo usci.
Filicaja, canz. 15. st. 4.
v. 58.  As iron that comes boiling from the fire.]  So Milton,
P.  L.  b. iii.  594.
--As glowing iron with fire.
v. 69.  Upon the day appear'd.
--If the heaven had ywonne,
All new of God another sunne.
Chaucer, First Booke of Fame
E par ch' agginuga un altro sole al cielo.
Ariosto, O F.  c.  x.  st.  109.
Ed ecco un lustro lampeggiar d' intorno
Che sole a sole aggiunse e giorno a giorno.
Manno, Adone.  c. xi. st. 27.
Quando a paro col sol ma piu lucente
L'angelo gli appari sull; oriente
Tasso, G. L. c. i.
-Seems another morn
Ris'n on mid-noon.
Milton, P. L. b. v. 311.
Compare Euripides, Ion. 1550.  [GREEK HERE]
66.  as Glaucus. ] Ovid, Met. 1.  Xiii. Fab.  9
v. 71.  If.]  "Thou O divine Spirit, knowest  whether 1 had not
risen above my human nature, and were not merely such as thou
hadst then, formed me."
v.  125.  Through sluggishness.]
Perch' a risponder la materia e sorda.
So Filicaja, canz.  vi. st 9.
Perche a risponder la discordia e sorda
"The workman hath in his heart a purpose, he carrieth in mind the
whole form which his work should have; there wanteth not him
skill and desire to bring his labour to the best effect, only the
matter, which he hath to work on is unframeable." Hooker's Eccl.
Polity, b. 5.  9.
v. 1.  In small bark.]
Con la barchetta mia cantando in rima
Pulci, Morg.  Magg.  c. xxviii.
Io me n'andro con la barchetta mia,
Quanto l'acqua comporta un picciol legno
v. 30.  This first star.]  the moon
v. 46.  E'en as the truth.]  Like a truth that does not need
demonstration, but is self-evident."
v. 52.  Cain.]  Compare Hell, Canto XX.  123. And Note
v. 65.  Number1ess lights.]  The fixed stars, which differ both
in bulk and splendor.
v. 71.  Save one.]  "Except that principle of rarity and
denseness which thou hast assigned."  By "formal principles,
"principj formali, are meant constituent or essential causes."
Milton, in imitation of this passage, introduces the angel
arguing with Adam respecting the causes of the spots on the moon.
But, as a late French translator of the Paradise well remarks,
his reasoning is physical; that of Dante partly metaphysical and
partly theologic.
v. 111.  Within the heaven.]  According to our Poet's system,
there are ten heavens; the seven planets, the eighth spheres
containing the fixed stars, the primum mobile, and the empyrean.
v. 143.  The virtue mingled.]  Virg. Aen. 1. vi 724.
Principio coelum, &c.
v. 16.  Delusion.]  "An error the contrary to that of Narcissus,
because he mistook a shadow for a substance, I a substance for a
v. 50.  Piccarda.]  The sister of Forese whom we have seen in the
Purgatory, Canto XXIII.
v. 90.  The Lady.] St. Clare, the foundress of the order called
after her She was born of opulent and noble parents at Assisi, in
1193, and died in 1253.  See Biogr.  Univ. t. 1.  p. 598.  8vo.
Paris, 1813.
v. 121.  Constance.]  Daughter of Ruggieri, king of Sicily, who,
being taken by force out of a monastery where she had professed,
was married to the Emperor Henry Vl. and by him was mother to
Frederick 11. She was fifty years old or more at the time, and
"because it was not credited that she could have a child at that
age, she was delivered in a pavilion and it was given out, that
any lady, who pleased, was at liberty to see her.  Many came, and
saw her, and the suspicion ceased."  Ricordano Malaspina in
Muratori, Rer. It. Script. t. viii.  p. 939; and G. Villani, in
the same words, Hist. I v. c. 16
The French translator above mentored speaks of her having
poisoned her husband.  The death of Henry Vl. is recorded in the
Chronicon Siciliae, by an anonymous writer, (Muratori, t. x.) but
not a word of his having been poisoned by Constance, and
Ricordano Malaspina even mentions her decease as happening before
that of her husband, Henry V., for so this author, with some
others, terms him. v. 122.  The second.]  Henry Vl. son of
Frederick I was the second emperor of the house of Saab; and his
son Frederick II "the third and last."
v. 6.  Between two deer]
Tigris ut auditis, diversa valle duorum
Extimulata fame, mugitibus armentorum
Neseit utro potius ruat, et ruere ardet utroque.
Ovid, Metam. 1. v. 166
v. 13.  Daniel.]  See Daniel, c. ii.
v. 24.  Plato.]  [GREEK HERE]  Plato Timaeus v. ix.  p. 326.
Edit. Bip.  "The Creator, when he had framed the universe,
distributed to the stars an equal number of souls, appointing to
each soul its several star."
v. 27.  Of that.]  Plato's opinion.
v. 34.  The first circle.]  The empyrean.
v. 48.  Him who made Tobias whole.]
Raphael, the sociable spirit, that deign'd
To travel with Tobias, and secur'd
His marriage with the sev'n times wedded maid,
Milton, P. L. b. v. 223.
v. 67.  That to the eye of man.]  "That the ways of divine
justice are often inscrutable to man, ought rather to be a motive
to faith than an inducement to heresy." Such appears to me the
most satisfactory explanation of the passage.
v. 82.  Laurence.]  Who suffered martyrdom in the third century.
v. 82.  Scaevola.]  See Liv.  Hist. D. 1.  1. ii. 12.
v. 100.  Alcmaeon.] Ovid, Met.  1. ix. f. 10.
--Ultusque parente parentem
Natus, erit facto pius et sceleratus eodem.
v. 107.  Of will.]  "What Piccarda asserts of Constance, that she
retained her affection to the monastic life, is said absolutely
and without relation to circumstances; and that which I affirm is
spoken of the will conditionally and respectively: so that our
apparent difference is without any disagreement."
v. 119.  That truth.]  The light of divine truth.
v. 43.  Two things.]  The one, the substance of the vow; the
other, the compact, or form of it.
v. 48.  It was enjoin'd the Israelites.]  See Lev. e. xii, and
v. 56.  Either key.]  Purgatory, Canto IX.  108.
v. 86.  That region.]  As some explain it, the east, according to
others the equinoctial line.
v. 124.  This sphere.]  The planet Mercury, which, being nearest
to the sun, is oftenest hidden by that luminary
v. 1.  After that Constantine the eagle turn'd.]  Constantine,
in transferring the seat of empire from Rome to Byzantium,
carried the eagle, the Imperial ensign, from the west to the
east. Aeneas, on the contrary had moved along with the sun's
course, when he passed from Troy to Italy.
v. 5.  A hundred years twice told and more.]  The Emperor
Constantine entered Byzantium in 324, and Justinian began his
reign in 527.
v. 6.  At Europe's extreme point.]  Constantinople being situated
at the extreme of Europe, and on the borders of Asia, near those
in the neighbourhood of Troy, from whence the first founders of
Rome had emigrated.
v. 13.  To clear th' incumber'd laws.]  The code of laws was
abridged and reformed by Justinian.
v. 15.  Christ's nature merely human.]  Justinian is said to have
been a follower of the heretical Opinions held by Eutyches," who
taught that in Christ there was but one nature, viz. that of the
incarnate word."
Maclaine's Mosheim, t. ii.  Cent.  v. p. ii. c. v. 13.
v. 16.  Agapete.]  Agapetus, Bishop of Rome, whose Scheda Regia,
addressed to the Emperor Justinian, procured him a place among
the wisest and most judicious writers of this century."
Ibid.  Cent.  vi. p. ii c.  ii.  8.
v. 33.  Who pretend its power.]  The Ghibellines.
v. 33.  And who oppose ]  The Guelphs.
v. 34.  Pallas died.]  See Virgil, Aen.  1. X.
v. 39.  The rival three.]  The Horatii and Curiatii.
v. 41.  Down.]  "From the rape of the Sabine women to the
violation of Lucretia."
v. 47.  Quintius.] Quintius Cincinnatus.
E Cincinnato dall' inculta chioma.
v. 50.  Arab hordes.]  The Arabians seem to be put for the
barbarians in general.
v. 54.  That hill.]  The city of Fesulae, which was sacked by the
Romans after the defeat of Cataline.
v. 56.  Near the hour.]  Near the time of our Saviour's birth.
v. 59.  What then it wrought.]  In the following fifteen lines
the Poet has comprised the exploits of Julius Caesar.
v. 75.  In its next bearer's gripe.] With Augustus Caesar.
v. 89.  The third Caesar.]  "Tiberius the third of the Caesars,
had it in his power to surpass the glory of all who either
preceded or came after him, by destroying the city of .Jerusalem,
as Titus afterwards did, and thus revenging the cause of God
himself on the Jews."
v. 95.  Vengeance for vengeance ]  This will be afterwards
explained by the Poet himself.
v. 98.  Charlemagne.]  Dante could not be ignorant that the reign
of Justinian was long prior to that of Charlemagne; but the
spirit of the former emperor is represented, both in this
instance and in what follows, as conscious of the events that had
taken place after his own time.
v. 104.  The yellow lilies.]  The French ensign.
v. 110.  Charles.]  The commentators explain this to mean Charles
II, king of Naples and Sicily. Is it not more likely to allude to
Charles of Valois, son of Philip III of France, who was sent for,
about this time, into Italy by Pope Boniface, with the promise of
being made emperor? See G. Villani, 1.  viii. c. 42.
v. 131.  Romeo's light.]  The story of Romeo is involved in some
uncertainty.  The French writers assert the continuance of his
ministerial office even after the decease of his soverign
Raymond Berenger, count of Provence: and they rest this assertion
chiefly on the fact of a certain Romieu de Villeneuve, who was
the contemporary of that prince, having left large possessions
behind him, as appears by his will, preserved in the archives of
the bishopric of Venice.  There might however have been more than
one person of the name of Romieu, or Romeo which answers to that
of Palmer in our language.  Nor is it probable that the Italians,
who lived so near the time, were misinformed in an occurrence of
such notoriety. According to them, after he had long been a
faithful steward to Raymond, when an account was required from
him of the revenues whichhe had carefully husbanded, and his
master as lavishly disbursed, "He demanded the little mule, the
staff, and the scrip, with which he had first entered into the
count's service, a stranger pilgrim from the shrine of St. James
in Galicia, and parted as he came; nor was it ever known whence
he was or wither he went." G. Villani, 1.  vi.  c. 92.
v. 135.  Four daughters.]  Of the four daughters of Raymond
Berenger, Margaret, the eldest, was married to Louis IX of
France; Eleanor; the next, to Henry III, of England; Sancha, the
third, to Richard, Henry's brother, and King of the Romans; and
the youngest, Beatrice, to Charles I, King of Naples and Sicily,
and brother to Louis.
v. 136.  Raymond Berenger.]  This prince, the last of the house
of Barcelona, who was count of Provence, died in 1245.  He is in
the list of Provencal poets.  See Millot, Hist, Litt des
Troubadours, t.  ii.  P.  112.
v. 3.  Malahoth.]  A Hebrew word, signifying "kingdoms."
v.  4.  That substance bright.]  Justinian.
v. 17.  As might have made one blest amid the flames.]
So Giusto de' Conti, Bella Mano. "Qual salamandra."
Che puommi nelle fiammi far beato.
v. 23.  That man who was unborn.]  Adam.
v. 61.  What distils.]  "That which proceeds immediately from
God, and without intervention of secondary causes, in immortal."
v. 140.  Our resurrection certain.]  "Venturi appears to mistake
the Poet's reasoning, when he observes:  "Wretched for us, if we
had not arguments more convincing, and of a higher kind, to
assure us of the truth of our resurrection."  It is here
intended, I think, that the whole of God's dispensations to man
should be considered as a proof of our resurrection.  The
conclusion is that as before sin man was immortal,
so being restored to the favor of heaven by the expiation made
for sin, he necessarily recovers his claim to immortality.
There is much in this poem to justify the encomium which the
learned Salvini has passed on it, when, in an epistle to Redi,
imitating what Horace had said of Homer, that the duties of life
might be better learnt from the Grecian bard than from the
teachers of the porch or the academy, he says--
And dost thou ask, what themes my mind engage?
The lonely hours I give to Dante's page;
And meet more sacred learning in his lines
Than I had gain'd from all the school divines.
Se volete saper la vita mia,
Studiando io sto lungi da tutti gli nomini
Ed ho irnparato piu teologia
In questi giorni, che ho riletto Dante,
Che nelle scuole fattto io non avria.
v. 4.  Epicycle,]  "In sul dosso di questo cerchio," &c.
Convito di Dante, Opere, t. i. p. 48, ed. Ven. 1793.
"Upon the back of this circle, in the heaven of Venus, whereof we
are now treating, is a little sphere, which has in that heaven a
revolution of its own: whose circle the astronomers term
v. 11.  To sit in Dido's bosom.]  Virgil. Aen. 1. i. 718,
v. 40.  'O ye whose intellectual ministry.]
Voi ch' intendendo il terzo ciel movete. The first line in our
Poet" first canzone.  See his Convito, Ibid. p. 40.
v. 53.  had the time been more.]  The spirit now speaking is
Charles Martel crowned king of Hungary, and son of Charles 11
king of Naples and Sicily, to which
dominions dying in his father's lifetime, he did not succeed.
v. 57.  Thou lov'dst me well.]  Charles Martel might have been
known to our poet at Florence whither he came to meet his father
in 1295, the year of his death.  The retinue and the habiliments
of the young monarch are minutely described by G. Villani, who
adds, that "he remained more than twenty days in Florence,
waiting for his father King Charles and his brothers during which
time great honour was done him by the, Florentines and he showed
no less love towards them, and he was much in favour with all."
1.  viii. c. 13. His brother Robert, king of Naples, was the
friend of Petrarch.
v. 60.  The left bank.]  Provence.
v. 62.  That horn
Of fair Ausonia.]
The kingdom of Naples.
v. 68.  The land.]  Hungary.
v. 73.  The beautiful Trinaeria.]  Sicily, so called from its
three promontories, of which Pachynus and Pelorus, here
mentioned, are two.
v. 14 'Typhaeus.]  The giant whom Jupiter is fabled to have
under the mountain Aetna from whence he vomits forth smoke and
v. 77.  Sprang through me from Charles and Rodolph.]  "Sicily
would be still ruled by a race of monarchs, descended through me
from Charles I and Rodolph I the former my grandfather king of
Naples and Sicily; the latter emperor of Germany, my
father-in-law; "both celebrated in the Purgatory Canto, Vll.
v. 78.  Had not ill lording.]  "If the ill conduct of our
governors in Sicily had not excited the resentment and hatred of
the people and stimulated them to that dreadful massacre at the
Sicilian vespers;" in consequence of which the kingdom fell into
the hands of Peter III of Arragon, in 1282
v. 81.  My brother's foresight.]  He seems to tax his brother
Robert with employing necessitous and greedy Catalonians to
administer the affairs of his kingdom.
v. 99.  How bitter can spring up.]  "How a covetous son can
spring from a liberal father."  Yet that father has himself been
accused of avarice in the Purgatory Canto XX. v. 78; though his
general character was that of a bounteous prince.
v. 125.  Consult your teacher.]  Aristole.  [GREEK HERE]
De Rep. 1. iii. c. 4. "Since a state is made up of members
differing from one another, (for even as an animal, in the first
instance, consists of soul and body, and the soul, of reason and
desire; and a family, of man and woman, and property of master
and slave; in like manner a state consists both of all these and
besides these of other dissimilar kinds,)  it necessarily follows
that the excellence of all the members of the state cannot be one
and the same."
v. 136.  Esau.]  Genesis c. xxv.  22.
v. 137.  Quirinus.]  Romulus, born of so obscure a father, that
his parentage was attributed to Mars.
v. 2.  O fair Clemenza.] Daughter of Charles Martel, and second
wife of Louis X. of France.
v. 2.  The treachery.]  He alludes to the occupation of the
kingdom of Sicily by Robert, in exclusion of his brother s son
Carobert, or Charles. Robert, the rightful heir.  See G. Villani,
1.  viii. c.  112.
v. 7.  That saintly light.]  Charles Martel.
v. 25.  In that part.]  Between Rialto and the Venetian
territory, and the sources of the rivers Brenta and Piava is
situated a castle called Romano, the birth-place of the famous
tyrant Ezzolino or Azzolino, the brother of Cunizza, who is now
speaking. The tyrant we have seen in "the river of blood."  Hell,
Canto XII. v. 110.
v. 32.  Cunizza.]  The adventures of Cunizza, overcome by the
influence of her star, are related by the chronicler Rolandino of
Padua, 1. i. c. 3, in Muratori Rer. It. Script. t. viii.  p. 173.
She eloped from her first husband, Richard of St. Boniface, in
the company of Sordello, (see Purgatory, Canto VI. and VII.  )
with whom she is supposed to have cohabited before her marriage:
then lived with a soldier of Trevigi, whose wife was living at
the same time in the same city, and on his being murdered by her
brother the tyrant, was by her brother married to a nobleman of
Braganzo, lastly when he also had fallen by the same hand  she,
after her brother's death, was again wedded in Verona.
v. 37.  This.]  Folco of Genoa, a celebrated Provencal poet,
commonly termed Folques of Marseilles, of which place he was
perhaps bishop. Many errors of Nostradamus, regarding him, which
have been followed by Crescimbeni, Quadrio, and Millot, are
detected by the diligence of Tiraboschi.  Mr. Matthias's ed.  v.
1. P. 18.  All that appears certain, is what we are told in this
Canto, that he was of Genoa, and by Petrarch in the Triumph of
Love, c. iv.  that he was better known by the appellation he
derived from Marseilles, and at last resumed the religious habit.
One of his verses is cited by Dante, De Vulg. Eloq. 1.  ii. c. 6.
v. 40.  Five times.]  The five hundred years are elapsed: and
unless the Provencal MSS. should be brought to light the poetical
reputation of Folco must rest on the mention made of him by the
more fortunate Italians.
v. 43 The crowd.]  The people who inhabited the tract of country
bounded by the river Tagliamento to the east, and Adice to the
v. 45.  The hour is near.]  Cunizza foretells the defeat of
Giacopo da Carrara, Lord of Padua by Can Grande, at Vicenza, on
the 18th September 1314.  See G. Villani, 1. ix. c. 62.
v. 48.  One.]  She predicts also the fate of Ricciardo da Camino,
who is said to have been murdered at Trevigi, where the rivers
(Sile and Cagnano meet) while he was engaged in playing at chess.
v. 50.  The web.]  The net or snare into, which he is destined to
v. 50.  Feltro.]  The Bishop of Felto having received a number of
fugitives from Ferrara, who were in opposition to the Pope, under
a promise of protection, afterwards gave them up, so that they
were reconducted to that city, and the greater part of them there
put to death.
v. 53.  Malta's.]  A tower, either in the citadel of Padua, which
under the tyranny of Ezzolino, had been "with many a foul and
midnight murder fed," or (as some say) near a river of the same
name, that falls into the lake of Bolsena, in which the Pope was
accustomed to imprison such as had been guilty of an irremissible
v. 56 This priest.]  The bishop, who, to show himself a zealous
partisan of the Pope, had committed the above-mentioned act of
v. 58.  We descry.]  "We behold the things that we predict, in
the mirrors of eternal truth."
v. 64.  That other joyance.]  Folco.
v. 76.  Six shadowing wings.]  "Above it stood the seraphims:
each one had six wings." Isaiah, c. vi.  2.
v. 80.  The valley of waters.]  The Mediterranean sea.
v. 80.  That.]  The great ocean.
v. 82.  Discordant shores.]  Europe and Africa.
v. 83.  Meridian.]  Extending to the east, the Mediterranean at
last reaches the coast of Palestine, which is on its horizon when
it enters the straits of Gibraltar. "Wherever a man is," says
Vellutello, "there he has, above his head, his own particular
meridian circle."
v. 85.  --'Twixt Ebro's stream
And Macra's.]
Eora, a river to the west, and Macra, to the east of Genoa, where
Folco was born.
v. 88.  Begga.]  A place in Africa, nearly opposite to Genoa.
v. 89.  Whose haven.]  Alluding to the terrible slaughter of the
Genoese made by the Saracens in 936, for which event Vellutello
refers to the history of Augustino Giustiniani.
v. 91.  This heav'n.]  The planet Venus.
v. 93.  Belus' daughter.]  Dido.
v. 96.  She of Rhodope.]  Phyllis.
v. 98.  Jove's son.]  Hercules.
v. 112.  Rahab.]  Heb. c. xi.  31.
v. 120.  With either palm.]  "By the crucifixion of Christ"
v. 126.  The cursed flower.]  The coin of Florence, called the
v. 130.  The decretals.]  The canon law.
v. 134.  The Vatican.]  He alludes either to the death of Pope
Boniface VIII. or, as Venturi supposes, to the coming of the
Emperor Henry VII. into Italy, or else, according to the yet more
probable conjecture of Lombardi, to the transfer of the holy see
from Rome to Avignon, which took place in the pontificate of
v. 7.  The point.]  "To that part of heaven," as Venturi explains
it, "in which the equinoctial circle and the Zodiac intersect
each other, where the common motion of the heavens from east to
west may be said to strike with greatest force against the motion
proper to the planets; and this repercussion, as it were, is here
the strongest, because the velocity of each is increased to the
utmost by their respective distance from the poles. Such at least
is the system of Dante."
v. 11.  Oblique.]  The zodiac.
v. 25.  The part.]  The above-mentioned intersection of the
circle and the zodiac.
v. 26.  Minister.]  The sun.
v. 30.  Where.]  In which the sun rises every day earlier after
the vernal equinox.
v. 45.  Fourth family.]  The inhabitants of the sun, the fourth
v. 46.  Of his spirit and of his offspring.]  The procession of
the third, and the generation of the second person in the
v. 70.  Such was the song.]  "The song of these spirits was
v. 86.  No less constrained.]  "The rivers might as easily cease
to flow towards the sea, as we could deny thee thy request."
v. 91.  I then.]  "I was of the Dominican order."
v. 95.  Albert of Cologne.]  Albertus Magnus was born at
Laugingen, in Thuringia, in 1193, and studied at Paris and at
Padua, at the latter of which places he entered into the
Dominican order.  He then taught theology in various parts of
Germany, and particularly at Cologne. Thomas Aquinas was his
favourite pupil.  In 1260, he reluctantly accepted
the bishopric of Ratisbon, and in two years after resigned it,
and returned to his cell in Cologne, where the remainder of his
life was passed in superintending the school, and in composing
his voluminous works on divinity and natural science.  He died in
1280.  The absurd imputation of his having dealt in the magical
art is well known; and his biographers take some pains to clear
him of it.  Scriptores Ordinis Praedicatorum, by Quetif and
Echard, Lut. Par. 1719.  fol. t. 1. p. 162.
v. 96.  Of Aquinum, Thomas.]  Thomas Aquinas, of whom Bucer is
reported to have said, "Take but Thomas away, and I will overturn
the church of Rome," and whom Hooker terms "the greatest among
the school divines," (Eccl. Pol. b. 3.  9), was born of noble
parents, who anxiously, but vainly, endeavoured to divert him
from a life of celibacy and study; and died in 1274, at the age
of fourty-seven. Echard and Quetif, ibid. p. 271. See also
Purgatory Canto XX. v. 67.
v. 101.  Gratian.]  "Gratian, a Benedictine monk belonging to the
convent of St. Felix and Nabor, at Bologna, and by birth a
Tuscan, composed, about the year 1130, for the use of the
schools, an abridgment or epitome of canon law, drawn from the
letters of the pontiffs, the decrees of councils, and the
writings of the ancient doctors."
Maclaine's Mosheim, v. iii. cent. 12. part 2. c. i. 6.
v. 101.  To either forum.]  "By reconciling," as Venturi explains
it "the civil with the canon law."
v. 104.  Peter.]  "Pietro Lombardo was of obscure origin, nor is
the place of his birth in Lombardy ascertained.  With a
recommendation from the bishop of Lucca to St. Bernard, he went
into France to continue his studies, and for that purpose
remained some time at Rheims, whence he afterwards proceeded to
Paris.  Here his reputation was so great that Philip, brother of
Louis VII., being chosen bishop of Paris, resigned that dignity
to Pietro, whose pupil he had been. He held his bishopric
only one year, and died in 1160.  His Liber Sententiarum is
highly esteemed.  It contains a system of scholastic theology, so
much more complete than any which had been yet seen, that it may
be deemed an original work."  Tiraboschi, Storia della Lett.
Ital.  t. iii. 1. 4. c. 2.
v. 104.  Who with the widow gave.]  This alludes to the beginning
of the Liber Sententiarum, where Peter says: "Cupiens aliquid de
penuria ac tenuitate nostra cum paupercula in gazophylacium
domini mittere,"
v. 105.  The fifth light.]  Solomon.
v. 112.  That taper's radiance.]  St. Dionysius the Areopagite.
"The famous Grecian fanatic, who gave himself out for Dionysius
the Areopagite, disciple of St. Paul, and who, under the
protection of this venerable name, gave laws and instructions to
those that were desirous of raising their souls above all human
things in order to unite them to their great source by sublime
contemplation, lived most probably in this century (the fourth),
though some place him before, others after, the present period."
Maclaine's Mosheim, v. i. cent.  iv. p. 2. c. 3.  12.
v. 116.  That pleader.]  1n the fifth century, Paulus Orosius,
"acquired a considerable degree of reputation by the History he
wrote to refute the cavils of the Pagans against Christianity,
and by his books against the Pelagians and Priscillianists."
Ibid.  v. ii. cent. v. p. 2.  c. 2. 11.  A similar train of
argument was pursued by  Augustine, in his book De Civitate Dei.
Orosius is classed by Dante, in his treatise De Vulg. Eloq.  I ii
c. 6. as one of his favourite authors, among those "qui usi sunt
altissimas prosas,"--" who have written prose with the greatest
loftiness of style."
v. 119.  The eighth.]  Boetius, whose book De Consolatione
Philosophiae excited so much attention during the middle ages,
was born, as  Tiraboschi conjectures, about 470.  "In 524 he was
cruelly put to death by command of Theodoric, either on real or
pretended suspicion of his being engaged in a conspiracy." Della
Lett.  Ital. t. iii. 1. i. c. 4.
v. 124.  Cieldauro.]  Boetius was buried at Pavia, in the
monastery of St. Pietro in Ciel d'oro.
v. 126.  Isidore.]  He was Archbishop of Seville during forty
years, and died in 635.  See Mariana, Hist. 1.  vi. c. 7.
Mosheim, whose critical opinions in general must be taken with
some allowance, observes that "his grammatical theological, and
historical productions, discover more learning and pedantry, than
judgment and taste."
v. 127.  Bede.]  Bede, whose virtues obtained him the appellation
of the Venerable, was born in 672 at Wearmouth and Jarrow, in the
bishopric of Durham, and died in 735.  Invited to Rome by Pope
Sergius I., he preferred passing almost the whole of his life in
the seclusion of a monastery.  A catalogue of his numerous
writings may be seen in Kippis's Biographia Britannica, v. ii.
v. 127.  Richard.]  Richard of St. Victor, a native either of
Scotland or Ireland, was canon and prior of the monastery of that
name at Paris and died in 1173.  "He was at the head of the
Mystics in this century and his treatise, entitled the Mystical
Ark, which contains as it were the marrow of this kind of
theology, was received with the greatest avidity."  Maclaine's
Mosheim, v. iii.  cent. xii. p. 2. c. 2.  23.
v. 132.  Sigebert.]  "A monk of the abbey of Gemblours who was in
high repute at the end of the eleventh, and beginning of the
twelfth  century." Dict.  de Moreri.
v. 131.  The straw-litter'd street.]  The name of a street in
Paris: the "Rue du Fouarre."
v. 136.  The spouse of God.]  The church.
v. 1.  O fond anxiety of mortal men.]  Lucretius, 1.  ii. 14
O miseras hominum mentes ! O pectora caeca
Qualibus in tenebris vitae quantisque periclis
Degitur hoc aevi quodcunque est!
v. 4.  Aphorisms,]  The study of medicine.
v. 17.  'The lustre.]  The spirit of Thomas Aquinas
v. 29.  She.]  The church.
v. 34.  One.]  Saint Francis.
v. 36.  The other.]  Saint Dominic.
v. 40.  Tupino.]  A rivulet near Assisi, or Ascesi where Francis
was born in 1182.
v. 40.  The wave.]  Chiascio, a stream that rises in a mountain
near Agobbio, chosen by St. Ubaldo for the place of his
v. 42.  Heat and cold.]  Cold from the snow, and heat from the
reflection of the sun.
v. 45.  Yoke.]  Vellutello understands this of the vicinity of
the mountain to Nocera and Gualdo; and Venturi (as I have taken
it) of the heavy impositions laid on those places by the
Perugians. For GIOGO, like the Latin JUGUM, will admit of either
v. 50.  The east.]
This is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Shakespeare.
v. 55.  Gainst his father's will.]  In opposition to the wishes
of his natural father
v. 58.  In his father's sight.]  The spiritual father, or bishop,
in whose presence he made a profession of poverty.
v. 60.  Her first husband.]  Christ.
v. 63.  Amyclas.]  Lucan makes Caesar exclaim, on witnessing the
secure poverty of the fisherman Amyclas:
--O vite tuta facultas
Pauperis, angustique lares!  O munera nondum
Intellecta deum!  quibus hoc contingere templis,
Aut potuit muris, nullo trepidare tumultu,
Caesarea pulsante manu?
Lucan Phars. 1. v. 531.
v. 72.  Bernard.]  One of the first followers of the saint.
v. 76.  Egidius.]  The third of his disciples, who died in 1262.
His work, entitled Verba Aurea, was published in 1534, at Antwerp
See Lucas Waddingus, Annales Ordinis Minoris, p. 5.
v. 76.  Sylvester.]  Another of his earliest associates.
v. 83.  Pietro Bernardone.]  A man in an humble station of life
v. 86.  Innocent.]  Pope Innocent III.
v. 90.  Honorius.]  His successor Honorius III who granted
certain privileges to the Franciscans.
v. 93.  On the hard rock.]  The mountain Alverna in the Apennine.
v. 100.  The last signet.]  Alluding to the stigmata, or marks
resembling the wounds of Christ, said to have been found on the
saint's body.
v. 106.  His dearest lady.]  Poverty.
v. 113.  Our Patriarch ]  Saint Dominic.
v. 316.  His flock ] The Dominicans.
v. 127.  The planet from whence they split.]  "The rule of their
order, which the Dominicans neglect to observe."
v. 1.  The blessed flame.]  Thomas Aquinas
v. 12.  That voice.]  The nymph Echo, transformed into the
repercussion of the voice.
v. 25.  One.]  Saint Buonaventura, general of the Franciscan
order, in which he effected some reformation, and one of the most
profound divines of his age.  "He refused the archbishopric of
York, which was offered him by Clement IV, but afterwards was
prevailed on to accept the bishopric of Albano and a cardinal's
hat.  He was born at Bagnoregio or Bagnorea, in Tuscany, A.D.
1221, and died in 1274."  Dict. Histor. par Chaudon et Delandine.
Ed.  Lyon.  1804.
v. 28.  The love.]  By an act of mutual courtesy, Buonaventura,
a Franciscan, is made to proclaim the praises of St. Dominic,
as Thomas Aquinas, a Dominican, has celebrated those of St.
v. 42.  In that clime.]  Spain.
v. 48.  Callaroga.]  Between Osma and Aranda, in Old Castile,
designated by the royal coat of arms.
v. 51.  The loving minion of the Christian faith.]  Dominic was
born April 5, 1170, and died August 6, 1221.  His birthplace,
Callaroga; his father and mother's names, Felix and Joanna, his
mother's dream; his name of Dominic, given him in consequence of
a vision by a noble matron, who stood sponsor to him, are all
told in an anonymous life of the saint, said to be written in the
thirteenth century, and published by Quetif and Echard,
Scriptores Ordinis Praedicatorum.  Par.  1719. fol. t 1.  p. 25.
These writers deny his having been an inquisitor, and indeed the
establishment of the inquisition itself before the fourth Lateran
council.  Ibid.  p. 88.
v. 55.  In the mother's womb.]  His mother, when pregnant with
him, is said to have dreamt that she should bring forth a white
and black dog, with a lighted torch in its mouth.
v. 59.  The dame.]  His godmother's dream was, that he had one
star in his forehead, and another in the nape of his neck, from
which he communicated light to the east and the west.
v. 73.  Felix.]  Felix Gusman.
v. 75.  As men interpret it.]  Grace or gift of the Lord.
v. 77.  Ostiense.]  A cardinal, who explained the decretals.
v. 77.  Taddeo.]  A physician, of Florence.
v. 82.  The see.]  "The apostolic see, which no longer continues
its wonted liberality towards the indigent and deserving; not
indeed  through its own fault, as its doctrines are still the
same, but through the fault of the pontiff, who is seated in it."
v. 85.  No dispensation.]  Dominic did not ask license to
compound for the use of unjust acquisitions, by dedicating a part
of them to pious purposes.
v. 89.  In favour of that seed.]  "For that seed of the divine
word, from which have sprung up these four-and-twenty plants,
that now environ thee."
v. 101.  But the track.]  "But the rule of St. Francis is already
deserted and the lees of the wine are turned into mouldiness."
v. 110.  Tares.]  He adverts to the parable of the taxes and the
v. 111.  I question not.]  "Some indeed might be found, who still
observe the rule of the order, but such would come neither from
Casale nor Acquasparta:" of the former of which places was
Uberto, one master general, by whom the discipline had been
relaxed; and of the latter, Matteo, another, who had enforced it
with unnecessary rigour.
v. 121.  -Illuminato here,
And Agostino.]
Two among the earliest followers of St. Francis.
v. 125.  Hugues of St. Victor.]  A Saxon of the monastery of
Saint  Victor at Paris, who fed ill 1142 at the age of
forty-four.  "A man distinguished by the fecundity of his genius,
who treated in his writings of all the branches of sacred and
profane erudition that were known in his time, and who composed
several dissertations that are not destitute of merit."
Maclaine's Mosheim, Eccl. Hist. v. iii . cent. xii. p. 2. 2. 23.
I have looked into his writings, and found some reason for
this high eulogium.
v. 125.  Piatro Mangiadore.]  "Petrus Comestor, or the Eater,
born at Troyes, was canon and dean of that church, and afterwards
chancellor of the church of Paris.  He relinquished these
benefices to become a regular canon of St. Victor at Paris, where
he died in 1198.  Chaudon et Delandine Dict. Hist. Ed. Lyon.
1804. The work by which he is best known, is his Historia
Scolastica, which I shall have occasion to cite in the Notes to
v. 126.  He of Spain.]  "To Pope Adrian V succeeded John XXI a
native of Lisbon a man of great genius and extraordinary
acquirements, especially in logic and in medicine, as his books,
written in the name of Peter of Spain (by which he was known
before he became Pope), may testify.  His life was not much
longer than that of his predecessors, for he was killed at
Viterbo, by the falling in of the roof of his chamber, after he
had been pontiff only eight months and as many days.
A.D. 1277.  Mariana, Hist. de Esp. l. xiv.  c. 2.
v. 128.  Chrysostom.]  The eloquent patriarch of Constantinople.
v. 128.  Anselmo.]  "Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, was born
at Aosta, about 1034, and studied under Lanfrane at the monastery
of Bec, in Normandy, where he afterwards devoted himself to a
religious life, in his twenty-seventh year.  In three years he
was made prior, and then abbot of that monastery!  from whence he
was taken, in 1093, to succeed to the archbishopric, vacant by
the death of Lanfrane. He enjoyed this dignity till his death, in
1109, though it was disturbed by many
dissentions with William II and Henry I respecting the immunities
and investitures.  There is much depth and precisian in his
theological  works." Tiraboschi, Stor.  della Lett. Ital. t. iii.
1. iv. c. 2. Ibid.  c. v.  "It is an observation made by many
modern writers, that the demonstration of the existence of God,
taken from the idea of a Supreme Being, of which Des Cartes is
thought to be the author, was so many ages back discovered and
brought to light by Anselm.  Leibnitz himself makes
the remark, vol. v. Oper.  p. 570.  Edit.  Genev. 1768."
v. 129.  Donatus.]  Aelius Donatus, the grammarian, in the fourth
century, one of the preceptors of St. Jerome.
v. 130.  Raban.]  "Rabanus Maurus, Archbishop of Mentz, is
deservedly placed at the head of the Latin writers of this age."
Mosheim, v. ii. cent. ix. p.  2 c. 2.  14.
v. 131.  Joachim.]  Abbot of Flora in Calabria; "whom the
multitude revered as a person divinely inspired and equal to the
most illustrious prophets of ancient times."  Ibid.  v. iii.
cent. xiii. p. 2. c. 2. 33.
v. 134.  A peer.]  St. Dominic.
v. 1.  Let him.]  "Whoever would conceive the sight that now
presented itself to me, must imagine to himself fifteen of the
brightest stars in heaven, together with seven stars of Arcturus
Major and two of Arcturus Minor, ranged in two circles, one
within the other, each resembling the crown of Ariadne, and
moving round m opposite directions."
v. 21.  The Chiava.]  See Hell, Canto XXIX. 45.
v. 29.  That luminary.]  Thomas Aquinas.
v. 31.  One ear.]  "Having solved one of thy questions, I proceed
to answer the other.  Thou thinkest, then, that Adam and Christ
were both endued with all the perfection of which the human
nature is capable and therefore wonderest at what has been said
concerning Solomon"
v. 48.  That.]  "Things corruptible and incorruptible, are only
emanations from the archetypal idea residing in the Divine mind."
v. 52.  His brightness.]  The Word: the Son of God.
v. 53.  His love triune with them.]  The Holy Ghost.
v. 55.  New existences.]  Angels and human souls.
v. 57.  The lowest powers.]  Irrational life and brute matter.
v. 62.  Their wax and that which moulds it.]  Matter, and the
virtue or energy that acts on it.
v. 68.  The heav'n.]  The influence of the planetary bodies.
v. 77.  The clay.]  Adam.
v. 88.  Who ask'd.]  "He did not desire to know the number of the
stars, or to pry into the subtleties of metaphysical and
mathematical science: but asked for that wisdom which might fit
him for his kingly office."
v. 120.  --Parmenides Melissus Bryso.]
For the singular opinions entertained by the two former of these
heathen philosophers, see Diogenes Laertius, 1. ix. and Aristot.
de Caelo, 1. iii. c. 1 and Phys. l. i. c. 2. The last is also
twice adduced by 2. Aristotle (Anal Post. 1. i. c. 9. and Rhet.
1. iii. c. 2.) as 3. affording instances of false reasoning.
v. 123.  Sabellius, Arius.]  Well-known heretics.
v. 124.  Scymitars.] A passage in the travels of
Bertradon de la Brocquiere, translated by Mr. Johnes, will
explain this
allusion, which has given some trouble to the commentators.  That
traveler, who wrote before Dante, informs us, p. 138, that the
wandering Arabs used their scymitars as mirrors.
v. 126.  Let not.]  "Let not short-sighted mortals presume to
decide on the future doom of any man, from a consideration of his
present character and actions."
v. 5.  Such was the image.]  The voice of Thomas Aquinas
proceeding, from the circle to the centre and that of Beatrice
from the centre to the circle.
v. 26.  Him.]  Literally translated by Chaucer, Troilus and
Thou one two, and three eterne on live
That raignest aie in three, two and one
Uncircumscript, and all maist circonscrive,
v. 81. The goodliest light.]  Solomon.
v. 78.  To more lofty bliss.]  To the planet Mars.
v. 94.  The venerable sign.]  The cross.
v. 125.  He.]  "He who considers that the eyes of Beatrice became
more radiant the higher we ascended, must not wonder that I do
not except even them as I had not yet beheld them since our
entrance into this planet."
v. 24.  Our greater Muse.]  Virgil Aen.  1. vi. 684.
v. 84.  I am thy root.]  Cacciaguida, father to Alighieri, of
whom our Poet was the great-grandson.
v. 89.  The mountain.]  Purgatory.
v. 92.  Florence.]  See G. Villani, l. iii.  c. 2.
v. 93.  Which calls her still.]  The public clock being still
within the circuit of the ancient walls.
v. 98.  When.]  When the women were not married at too early an
age, and did not expect too large a portion.
v. 101.  Void.]  Through the civil wars.
v. 102 Sardanapalus.]  The luxurious monarch of Assyria Juvenal
is here imitated, who uses his name for an instance of
effeminacy.  Sat.
v. 103.  Montemalo ] Either an elevated spot between Rome and
Viterbo, or Monte Mario, the site of the villa Mellini,
commanding a view of Rome.
v. 101.  Our suburban turret.]  Uccellatojo, near Florence, from
whence that city was discovered.
v. 103.  Bellincion Berti.]  Hell, Canto XVI. 38.  nd Notes.
There is a curious description of the simple manner in which the
earlier Florentines dressed themselves in G. Villani, 1 vi.  c.
v. 110.  Of Nerli and of Vecchio.]  Two of the most opulent
families in Florence.
v. 113.  Each.]  "None fearful either of dying in banishment, or
of being deserted by her husband on a scheme of battle in France.
v. 120.  A Salterello and Cianghella.]  The latter a shameless
woman of the family of Tosa, married to Lito degli Alidosi of
Imola: the former Lapo Salterello, a lawyer, with whom Dante was
at variance.
v. 125.  Mary.]  The Virgin was involved in the pains of
child-birth Purgatory, Canto XX. 21.
v. 130 Valdipado.]  Cacciaguida's wife, whose family name was
Aldighieri; came from Ferrara, called Val di Pado, from its being
watered by the Po.
v. 131.  Conrad.]  The Emperor Conrad III who died in 1152.
See G. Villani, 1.  iv.  34.
v. 136.  Whose people.] The Mahometans, who were left in
possession of the Holy Land, through the supineness of the Pope.
v. 10.  With greeting.]  The Poet, who had addressed the spirit,
not knowing him to be his ancestor, with a plain "Thou," now uses
more ceremony, and calls him "You," according to a custom
introduced among the Romans in the latter times of the empire.
v. 15.  Guinever.]  Beatrice's smile encouraged him to proceed
just as the cough of Ginevra's female servant gave her mistress
assurance to admit the freedoms of Lancelot.  See Hell, Canto V.
v. 23.  The fold.]  Florence, of which John the Baptist was the
patron saint.
v. 31.  From the day.]  From the Incarnation to the birth of
Cacciaguida, the planet Mars had returned five hundred and
fifty-three times to the constellation of Leo, with which it is
supposed to have a congenial influence.  His birth may,
therefore, be placed about 1106.
v. 38.  The last.]  The city was divided into four compartments.
The Elisei, the ancestors of Dante, resided near the entrance of
that named from the Porta S. Piero, which was the last reached by
the competitor in the annual race at Florence.  See G. Villani,
1.  iv. c.  10.
v. 44.  From Mars.]  "Both in the times of heathenish and of
Christianity."  Hell, Canto XIII. 144.
v. 48.  Campi and Certaldo and Fighine.]  Country places near
v. 50.  That these people.]  That the inhabitants of the above-
mentioned places had not been mixed with the citizens: nor the
limits of Florence extended beyond Galluzzo and Trespiano."
v. 54.  Aguglione's hind and Signa's.]  Baldo of Aguglione, and
Bonifazio of Signa.
v. 56.  Had not the people.]  If Rome had continued in her
allegiance to the emperor, and the Guelph and Ghibelline factions
had thus been prevented, Florence would not have been polluted by
a race of upstarts, nor lost the most respectable of her ancient
v. 61.  Simifonte.]  A castle dismantled by the Florentines.  G.
Villani, 1. v. c. 30.  The individual here alluded to is no
longer known.
v. 69.  The blind bull.]  So Chaucer, Troilus and Cresseide. b.
For swifter course cometh thing that is of wight
When it descendeth than done things light.
Compare Aristotle, Ethic.  Nic. l. vi.  c. 13.  [GREEK HERE]
v. 72.  Luni, Urbisaglia.]  Cities formerly of importance, but
then fallen to decay.
v. 74.  Chiusi and Sinigaglia.]  The same.
v. 80.  As the moon.]  "The fortune of us, that are the moon's
men doth ebb and flow like the sea."  Shakespeare, 1 Henry IV.
v. 86.  The Ughi.]  Whoever is curious to know the habitations of
these and the other ancient Florentines, may consult G. Villani,
v. 91.  At the poop.]  Many editions read porta, "gate." -The
same metaphor is found in Aeschylus, Supp. 356, and is there also
scarce understood by the critics. [GREEK HERE] Respect these
wreaths, that crown your city's poop.
v. 99.  The gilded hilt and pommel.]  The symbols of knighthood
v. 100.  The column cloth'd with verrey.]  The arms of the Pigli.
v. 103.  With them.]  Either the Chiaramontesi, or the Tosinghi
one of which had committed a fraud in measuring out the wheat
from the public granary.  See Purgatory, Canto XII.  99
v. 109.  The bullets of bright gold.]  The arms of the Abbati, as
it is conjectured.
v. 110.  The sires of those.]  "Of the Visdomini, the Tosinghi
and the Cortigiani, who, being sprung from the founders of the
bishopric of Florence are the curators of its revenues, which
they do not spare, whenever it becomes vacant."
v. 113.  Th' o'erweening brood.]  The Adimari.  This family was
so little esteemed, that Ubertino Donato, who had married a
daughter of Bellincion Berti, himself indeed derived from the
same stock (see Note to Hell Canto XVI. 38.) was offended with
his father-in-law, for giving another of his daughters in
marriage to one of them.
v. 124.  The gateway.]  Landino refers this to the smallness of
the city: Vellutello, with less probability, to the simplicity of
the people in naming one of the gates after a private family.
v. 127.  The great baron.]  The Marchese Ugo, who resided at
Florence as lieutenant of the Emperor Otho III, gave many of the
chief families license to bear his arms.  See G. Villani, 1.  iv.
c. 2., where the vision is related, in consequence of which he
sold all his possessions in Germany, and founded seven abbeys, in
one whereof his memory was celebrated at Florence on St. Thomas's
v. 130.  One.]  Giano della Bella, belonging to one of the
families thus distinguished, who no longer retained his place
among the nobility, and had yet added to his arms a bordure or.
See Macchiavelli, 1st.  Fior. 1. ii. p. 86.  Ediz.  Giolito.
v. 132.  -Gualterotti dwelt
And Importuni.]
Two families in the compartment of the city called Borgo.
v. 135.  The house.]  Of Amidei.  See Notes to Canto XXVIII. of
Hell. v.  102.
v. 142.  To Ema.]  "It had been well for the city, if thy
ancestor had been drowned in the Ema, when he crossed that stream
on his way from Montebuono to Florence."
v. 144.  On that maim'd stone.]  See Hell, Canto XIII. 144. Near
the remains of the statue of Mars.  Buondelmonti was slain, as if
he had been a victim to the god; and Florence had not since known
the blessing of peace.
v. 150.  The lily.]  "The arms of Florence had never hung
reversed on the spear of her enemies, in token of her defeat; nor
been changed from argent to gules;" as they afterwards were, when
the Guelfi gained the predominance.
v. 1.  The youth.]  Phaeton, who came to his mother Clymene, to
inquire of her if he were indeed the son of Apollo.  See Ovid,
Met. 1. i. ad finem.
v. 6.  That saintly lamp.]  Cacciaguida.
v. 12.  To own thy thirst.]  "That thou mayst obtain from others
a solution of any doubt that may occur to thee."
v. 15.  Thou seest as clear.]  "Thou beholdest future events,
with the same clearness of evidence, that we discern the simplest
mathematical demonstrations."
v. 19.  The point.]  The divine nature.
v. 27.  The arrow.]
Nam praevisa minus laedere tela solent.
Che piaga antiveduta assai men duole.
Petrarca, Trionfo del Tempo
v. 38.  Contingency.]  "The evidence with which we see the future
portrayed in the source of all truth, no more necessitates that
future than does the image, reflected in the sight by a ship
sailing down a stream, necessitate the motion of the vessel."
v. 43.  From thence.]  "From the eternal sight; the view of the
v. 49.  There.]  At Rome, where the expulsion of Dante's party
from Florence was then plotting, in 1300.
v. 65.  Theirs.]  "They shall be ashamed of the part they have
taken aga'nst thee."
v. 69.  The great Lombard.]  Either Alberto della Scala, or
Bartolommeo his eldest son.  Their coat of arms was a ladder and
v. 75.  That mortal.]  Can Grande della Scala, born under the
influence of Mars, but at this time only nine years old
v. 80.  The Gascon.]  Pope Clement V.
v. 80.  Great Harry.]  The Emperor Henry VII.
v. 127.  The cry thou raisest.]  "Thou shalt stigmatize the
faults of those who are most eminent and powerful."
v. 3.  Temp'ring the sweet with bitter.]
Chewing the end of sweet and bitter fancy.
Shakespeare, As you Like it, a. 3.  s. 3.
v. 26.  On this fifth lodgment of the tree.]  Mars, the fifth ot
v. 37.  The great Maccabee.]  Judas Maccabeus.
v. 39.  Charlemagne.]  L. Pulci commends Dante for placing
Charlemagne and Orlando here:
Io mi confido ancor molto qui a Dante
Che non sanza cagion nel ciel su misse
Carlo ed Orlando in quelle croci sante,
Che come diligente intese e scrisse.
Morg. Magg.  c. 28.
v. 43.  William and Renard.]  Probably not, as the commentators
have imagined, William II of Orange, and his kinsman Raimbaud,
two of the crusaders under Godfrey of Bouillon, (Maimbourg, Hist.
des Croisades, ed. Par. 1682. 12mo. t. i. p. 96.) but rather the
two more celebrated heroes in the age of Charlemagne.  The
former, William l. of Orange, supposed to have been the founder
of the present illustrious family of that name, died about 808,
according to Joseph de la Piser, Tableau de l'Hist. des Princes
et Principante d'Orange. Our countryman, Ordericus Vitalis,
professes to give his true life, which had been misrepresented in
the songs of the itinerant bards."  Vulgo canitur a joculatoribus
de illo, cantilena; sed jure praeferenda est relatio
authentica."  Eccl.  Hist.  in Duchesne, Hist.  Normann Script.
p.  508. The latter is better known by having been celebrated by
Ariosto, under the name of Rinaldo.
v. 43.  Duke Godfey.]  Godfrey of Bouillon.
v. 46.  Robert Guiscard.]  See Hell, Canto XXVIII. v. 12.
v. 81.  The characters.]  Diligite justitiam qui judicatis
terrarm. "Love righteousness, ye that be judges of the earth "
Wisdom of  Solomon, c. i. 1.
v. 116.  That once more.]  "That he may again drive out those who
buy and sell in the temple."
v. 124.  Taking the bread away.]  "Excommunication, or the
interdiction of the Eucharist, is now employed as a weapon of
v. 126.  That writest but to cancel.]  "And thou, Pope Boniface,
who writest thy ecclesiastical censures for no other purpose than
to be  paid for revoking them."
v. 130.  To him.]  The coin of Florence was stamped with the
impression of John the Baptist.
v. 38.  Who turn'd his compass.]  Compare Proverbs, c. viii.  27.
And Milton, P. L. b. vii 224.
v. 42.  The Word]  "The divine nature still remained
incomprehensible. Of this Lucifer was a proof; for had he
thoroughly comprehended it, he would not have fallen."
v. 108.  The Ethiop.]  Matt.  c. xii.  41.
v. 112.  That volume.]  Rev. c. xx.  12.
v. 114.  Albert.]  Purgatory, Canto VI.  v. 98.
v. 116.  Prague.]  The eagle predicts the devastation of Bohemia
by Albert, which happened soon after this time, when that Emperor
obtained the kingdom for his eldest son Rodolph.  See Coxe's
House of Austria, 4to.  ed. v. i. part 1. p. 87
v. 117.  He.]  Philip IV of France, after the battle of Courtrai,
1302, in which the French were defeated by the Flemings, raised
the nominal value of the coin.  This king died in consequence of
his horse being thrown to the ground by a wild boar, in 1314
v. 121.  The English and Scot.]  He adverts to the disputes
between John Baliol and Edward I, the latter of whom is commended
in the Purgatory, Canto VII. v. 130.
v. 122.  The Spaniard's luxury.]  The commentators refer this to
Alonzo X of Spain.  It seems probable that the allusion is to
Ferdinand IV who came to the crown in 1295, and died in 1312, at
the age of twenty four, in consequence, as it was supposed, of
his extreme intemperance.
See Mariana, Hist I. xv.  c. 11.
v. 123.  The Bohemian.]  Winceslaus II.  Purgatory, Canto VII. v.
v. 125.  The halter of Jerusalem.]  Charles II of Naples and
Jerusalem who was lame.  See note to Purgatory, Canto VII.  v.
122, and XX. v. 78.
v. 127.  He.]  Frederick of Sicily son of Peter III of Arragon.
Purgatory, Canto VII.  v. 117.  The isle of fire is Sicily, where
was the tomb of Anchises.
v. 133.  His uncle.]  James, king of Majorca and Minorca, brother
to Peter III.
v. 133.  His brother.]  James II of Arragon, who died in 1327.
See Purgatory, Canto VII.  v. 117.
v. 135.  Of Portugal.]  In the time of Dante, Dionysius was king
of Portugal.  He died in 1328, after a reign of near forty-six
years, and does not seem to have deserved the stigma here
fastened on him. See Mariana. and 1. xv. c. 18.  Perhaps the
rebellious son of Dionysius may be alluded to.
v. 136.  Norway.]  Haquin, king of Norway, is probably meant;
who, having given refuge to the murderers of Eric VII king of
Denmark, A D. 1288, commenced a war against his successor, Erie
VIII, "which continued for nine years, almost to the utter ruin
and destruction of both kingdoms."  Modern Univ. Hist. v. xxxii
v. 136.  -Him
One of the dynasty of the house of Nemagna, which ruled the
kingdom of Rassia, or Ratza, in Sclavonia, from 1161 to 1371, and
whose history may be found in Mauro Orbino, Regno degli Slavi,
Ediz. Pesaro. 1601. Uladislaus appears to have been the sovereign
in Dante's time, but the disgraceful forgery adverted to in the
text, is not recorded by the historian v. 138.  Hungary.]  The
kingdom of Hungary was about this time disputed by Carobert, son
of Charles Martel, and Winceslaus, prince of Bohemia, son of
Winceslaus II.  See Coxe's House of Austria, vol. i. p. 1. p. 86.
v. 140.  Navarre.]  Navarre was now under the yoke of France.
 It soon after (in 1328) followed the advice of Dante and had a
monarch of its own.  Mariana, 1.  xv. c. 19.
v. 141.  Mountainous girdle.]  The Pyrenees.
v. 143.  -Famagosta's streets
And Nicosia's.]
Cities in the kingdom of Cyprus, at that time ruled by Henry II a
pusillanimous prince. Vertot.  Hist. des Chev.  de Malte, 1. iii.
iv. The meaning appears to be, that the complaints made by those
cities of their weak and worthless governor, may be regarded as
an earnest of his condemnation at the last doom.
v. 6.  Wherein one shines.]  The light of the sun, whence he
supposes the other celestial bodies to derive their light
v. 8.  The great sign.]  The eagle, the Imperial ensign.
v. 34.  Who.]  David.
v. 39.  He.]  Trajan.  See Purgatory, Canto X. 68.
v. 44.  He next.]  Hezekiah.
v. 50.  'The other following.]  Constantine.  There is no passage
in which Dante's opinion of the evil; that had arisen from the
mixture of the civil with the ecclesiastical power, is more
unequivocally  declared.
v. 57.  William.]  William II, king of Sicily, at the latter part
of  the twelfth century He was of the Norman line of sovereigns,
and obtained the appellation of "the Good" and, as the poet says
his loss was as much the subject of regret in his dominions, as
the presence of Charles I of Anjou and Frederick of Arragon, was
of sorrow and complaint.
v. 62.  Trojan Ripheus.]
Ripheus, justissimus unus
Qui fuit in Teneris, et servantissimus aequi.
Virg.  Aen.  1. ii. 4--.
v. 97.  This.]  Ripheus.
v. 98.  That.]  Trajan.
v. 103.  The prayers,] The prayers of St. Gregory
v. 119.  The three nymphs.]  Faith, Hope, and Charity. Purgatory,
Canto XXIX.  116.
v. 138.  The pair.]  Ripheus and Trajan.
v. 12.  The seventh splendour.]  The planet Saturn
v. 13.  The burning lion's breast.]  The constellation Leo.
v. 21.  In equal balance.]  "My pleasure was as great in
with her will as in beholding her countenance."
v. 24.  Of that lov'd monarch.]  Saturn.  Compare Hell, Canto
v. 56.  What forbade the smile.]  "Because it would have overcome
v. 61.  There aloft.]  Where the other souls were.
v. 97.  A stony ridge.]  The Apennine.
v. 112.  Pietro Damiano.]  "S. Pietro Damiano obtained a great
and well-merited reputation, by the pains he took to correct the
abuses among the clergy.  Ravenna is supposed to have been the
place of his birth, about 1007.  He was employed in several
important missions, and rewarded by Stephen IX with the dignity
of cardinal, and the bishopric of Ostia, to which, however, he
preferred his former retreat in the monastery of Fonte Aveliana,
and prevailed on Alexander II to permit him to retire thither.
Yet he did not long continue in this seclusion, before he was
sent on other embassies.  He died at Faenza in 1072.  His
letters throw much light on the obscure history of these times.
Besides them, he has left several treatises on sacred and
ecclesiastical subjects. His eloquence is worthy of a better
age."  Tiraboschi, Storia della Lett Ital. t. iii.  1. iv. c. 2.
v. 114.  Beside the Adriatic.]  At Ravenna.  Some editions have
FU instead of FUI, according to which reading, Pietro
distinguishes  himself from another Pietro, who was termed
"Peccator," the sinner.
v. 117.  The hat.]  The cardinal's hat.
v. 118.  Cephas.]  St. Peter.
v. 119 The Holy Spirit's vessel.]  St. Paul. See Hell, Canto II.
v. 130.  Round this.]  Round the spirit of Pietro Damiano.
v. 14.  The vengeance.]  Beatrice, it is supposed, intimates the
approaching fate of Boniface VIII.  See Purgatory, Canto XX.  86.
v. 36.  Cassino.]  A castle in the Terra di Lavoro.
v. 38.  I it was.]  "A new order of monks, which in a manner
absorbed all the others that were established in the west, was
instituted, A.D.  529, by Benedict of Nursis, a man of piety and
reputation for the age he  lived in."  Maclaine's Mosheim,
Eccles. Hist. v. ii.  cent. vi. p. 2. ch.  2 - 6.
v. 48.  Macarius.]  There are two of this name enumerated by
Mosheim among the Greek theologians of the fourth century, v. i.
cent. iv p. 11 ch. 2 - 9.  In the following chapter, 10, it is
said, "Macarius, an Egyptian monk, undoubtedly deserves the first
rank among the practical matters of this time, as his works
displayed, some few things excepted, the brightest and most
lovely portraiture of sanctity and virtue."
v. 48.  Romoaldo.]  S. Romoaldo, a native of Ravenna, and the
founder of the order of Camaldoli, died in 1027.  He was the
author of a commentary on the Psalms.
v. 70.  The patriarch Jacob.]  So Milton, P. L. b. iii. 510:
The stairs were such, as whereon Jacob saw
Angels ascending and descending, bands
Of guardians bright.
v. 107.  The sign.]  The constellation of Gemini.
v. 130. This globe.]  So Chaucer, Troilus and Cresseide, b. v,
And down from thence fast he gan avise
This little spot of earth, that with the sea
Embraced is, and fully gan despite
This wretched world.
Compare Cicero, Somn. Scip.  "Jam ipsa terra ita mihi parva visa
est." &c.  Lucan, Phar 1.  ix. 11;  and Tasso, G.  L.  c.  xiv.
st, 9, 10, 11.
v. 140.  Maia and Dione.]  The planets Mercury and Venus.
v. 11.  That region.]  Towards the south, where the course of the
sun appears less rapid, than, when he is in the east or the west.
v. 26.  Trivia.]  A name of Diana.
v. 26.  Th' eternal nymphs.]  The stars.
v. 36.  The Might.]  Our Saviour
v. 71.  The rose.]  The Virgin Mary.
v. 73.  The lilies.]  The apostles.
v. 84.  Thou didst exalt thy glory.]  The diving light retired
upwards, to render the eyes of Dante more capable of enduring the
spectacle  which now presented itself.
v. 86.  The name of that fair flower.]  The name of the Virgin.
v. 92.  A cresset.]  The angel Gabriel.
v. 98.  That lyre.]  By synecdoche, the lyre is put for the angel
v. 99.  The goodliest sapphire.]  The Virgin
v. 126.  Those rich-laden coffers.]  Those spirits who, having
sown the seed of good works on earth, now contain the fruit of
their pious endeavours.
v. 129.  In the Babylonian exile.]  During their abode in this
v. 133.  He.]  St. Peter, with the other holy men of the Old and
New testament.
v. 28.  Such folds.]  Pindar has the same bold image:
[GREEK HERE?]
On which Hayne strangely remarks:  Ad ambitus stropharum vldetur
v. 65.  Faith.]  Hebrews, c.  xi.  1.  So Marino, in one of his
sonnets, which calls Divozioni:
Fede e sustanza di sperate cose,
E delle non visioili argomento.
v. 82.  Current.]  "The answer thou hast made is right; but let
me know if thy inward persuasion is conformable to thy
profession."
v. 91.  The ancient bond and new.]  The Old and New Testament.
v. 114.  That Worthy.]  Quel Baron.
In the next Canto, St. James is called "Barone."  So in
Boccaccio, G. vi. N. 10, we find "Baron Messer Santo Antonio."
v. 124.  As to outstrip.]  Venturi insists that the Poet has
here, "made a slip;" for that John came first to the sepulchre,
though Peter was the first to enter it.  But let Dante have leave
to explain his own meaning, in a passage from his third book De
Monarchia:  "Dicit etiam Johannes ipsum (scilicet Petrum)
introiisse SUBITO, cum venit in monumentum, videns allum
discipulum cunctantem ad ostium." Opere de Dante, Ven. 1793. T.
v. 6.  The fair sheep-fold.]  Florence, whence he was banished.
v. 13.  For its sake.]  For the sake of that faith.
v. 20.  Galicia throng'd with visitants.] See Mariana, Hist. 1.
v. 13.  "En el tiempo," &c.  "At the time that the sepulchre of
the apostle St. James was discovered, the devotion for that place
extended itself not only over all Spain, but even round about to
foreign nations. Multitudes from all parts of the world came to
visit it.  Many others were deterred by the difficulty for the
journey, by the roughness and barrenness of those parts, and by
the incursions of the Moors, who made captives many of the
pilgrims.  The canons of St. Eloy afterwards (the precise time is
not known), with a desire of remedying these evils, built, in
many places, along the whole read, which reached as far as to
France, hospitals for the reception of the pilgrims."
v. 31.  Who.]  The Epistle of St. James is here attributed to the
elder apostle of that name, whose shrine was at Compostella, in
Galicia.  Which of the two was the author of it is yet doubtful.
The learned and candid Michaelis contends very forcibly for its
having been written by James the Elder.  Lardner rejects that
opinion as absurd; while Benson argues against it, but is well
answered by Michaelis, who after all, is obliged to leave the
question undecided.  See his Introduction to the New Testament,
translated by Dr. Marsh, ed.  Cambridge, 1793.  V. iv. c.  26.  -
v. 35.  As Jesus.]  In the transfiguration on Mount Tabor.
v. 39.  The second flame.]  St. James.
v. 40.  I lifted up.]  "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
from whence cometh my help."  Ps.  Cxxi.  1.
v. 59.  From Egypt to Jerusalem.]  From the lower world to
v. 67.  Hope.]  This is from the Sentences of Petrus Lombardus.
"Est autem spes virtus, qua spiritualia et aeterna bona speratam,
id  est, beatitudinem aeternam.  Sine meritis enim aliquid
sperare non spes, sed praesumptio, dici potest."  Pet. Lomb.
Sent.  1.  Iii.  Dist.  26.   Ed. Bas.  1486.  Fol.
v. 74.  His anthem.]  Psalm ix.  10.
v. 90.  Isaias ]  Chap. lxi. 10.
v. 94.  Thy brother.]  St. John in the Revelation, c. vii.  9.
v. 101.  Winter's month.]  "If a luminary, like that which now
appeared, were to shine throughout the month following the winter
solstice during which the constellation Cancer appears in the
east at the setting of the sun, there would be no interruption to
the light, but the whole month would be as a single day."
v. 112.  This.]  St. John, who reclined on the bosom of our
Saviour, and to whose charge Jesus recommended his mother.
v. 121.  So I.]  He looked so earnestly, to descry whether St.
John were present there in body, or in spirit only, having had
his doubts raised  by that saying of our Saviour's:  "If I will,
that he tarry till I come  what is that to thee."
v. 127.  The two.]  Christ and Mary, whom he has described, in
the last Canto but one, as rising above his sight
v. 2.  The beamy flame.]  St. John.
v. 13.  Ananias' hand.]  Who, by putting his hand on St. Paul,
restored his sight.  Acts, c. ix.  17.
v. 36.  From him.]  Some suppose that Plato is here meant, who,
in his Banquet, makes Phaedrus say:  "Love is confessedly amongst
the eldest of beings, and, being the eldest, is the cause to us
of the greatest goods " Plat. Op. t. x. p. 177.  Bip.  ed. Others
have understood it of Aristotle, and others, of the writer who
goes by the name of Dionysius the Areopagite, referred to in the
twenty-eighth Canto.
v. 40.  I will make.]  Exodus, c. xxxiii. 19.
v. 42.  At the outset.]  John, c. i. 1.  &c.
v. 51.  The eagle of our Lord.]  St. John
v. 62.  The leaves.]  Created beings.
v. 82.  The first living soul.]  Adam.
v. 107.  Parhelion.]  Who enlightens and comprehends all things;
but is himself enlightened and comprehended by none.
v. 117.  Whence.]  That is, from Limbo.  See Hell, Canto II.  53.
Adam says that 5232 years elapsed from his creation to the time
of his deliverance, which followed the death of Christ.
v. 133.  EL]  Some read UN, "One," instead of EL:  but the latter
of these readings is confirmed by a passage from Dante's Treatise
De Vulg. Eloq. 1. i. cap. 4. "Quod prius vox primi loquentis
sonaverit, viro sanae mentis in promptu esse non dubito ipsum
fuisse quod Deus est, videlicet El."  St. Isidore in the
Origines, 1.  vii. c. 1. had said, "Primum apud Hebraeos Dei
nomen El dicitur."
v. 135.  Use.]  From Horace, Ars. Poet. 62.
v. 138.  All my life.]  "I remained in the terrestrial Paradise
only tothe seventh hour."  In the Historia Scolastica of Petrus
Comestor, it is said of our first parents:  Quidam tradunt eos
fuisse in Paradiso septem horae."  I. 9. ed. Par. 1513. 4to.
v.  1.  Four torches.]  St. Peter, St. James, St. John, and Adam.
v. 11.  That.]  St. Peter' who looked as the planet Jupiter
would, if it assumed the sanguine appearance of liars.
v. 20.  He.]  Boniface VIII.
v. 26.  such colour.]
Qui color infectis adversi solis ab ietu
Nubibus esse solet; aut purpureae Aurorae.
Ovid, Met.  1. iii. 184.
v. 37.  Of Linus and of Cletus.]  Bishops of Rome in the first
v. 40.  Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed
The former two, bishops of the same see, in the second; and the
others, in the fourth century.
v. 42.  No purpose was of ours.]  "We did not intend that our
successors should take any part in the political divisions among
Christians, or that my figure (the seal of St. Peter) should
serve as a mark to authorize iniquitous grants and privileges."
v. 51.  Wolves.]  Compare Milton, P. L. b. xii. 508, &c.
v. 53.  Cahorsines and Gascons.]  He alludes to Jacques d'Ossa, a
native of Cahors, who filled the papal chair in 1316, after it
had been two years vacant, and assumed the name of John XXII.,
and to Clement V, a Gascon, of whom see Hell, Canto XIX. 86, and
v. 63.  The she-goat.]  When the sun is in Capricorn.
v. 72.  From the hour.]  Since he had last looked (see Canto
XXII.) he perceived that he had passed from the meridian circle
to the eastern horizon, the half of our hemisphere, and a quarter
of the heaven.
v. 76.  From Gades.]  See Hell, Canto XXVI. 106
v. 78.  The shore.]  Phoenicia, where Europa, the daughter of
Agenor mounted on the back of Jupiter, in his shape of a bull.
v. 80.  The sun.]  Dante was in the constellation Gemini, and the
sun  in Aries.  There was, therefore, part of those two
constellations, and the whole of Taurus, between them.
v. 93.  The fair nest of Leda.]  "From the Gemini;" thus called,
because Leda was the mother of the twins, Castor and Pollux
v. 112.  Time's roots.]  "Here," says Beatrice, "are the roots,
from whence time springs: for the parts, into which it is
divided, the other heavens must be considered."  And she then
breaks out into an exclamation on the degeneracy of human nature,
which does not lift itself to the contemplation of divine things.
v. 126.  The fair child of him.]  So she calls human nature.
Pindar by a more easy figure, terms the day, "child of the sun."
v. 129.  None.]  Because, as has been before said, the shepherds
are become wolves.
v. 131.  Before the date.]  "Before many ages are past, before
those fractions, which are drops in the reckoning of every year,
shall amount to so large a portion of time, that January shall be
no more a winter month." By this periphrasis is meant " in a
short time," as we say familiarly, such a thing will happen
before a thousand years are over when we mean, it will happen
v. 135.  Fortune shall be fain.]  The commentators in general
suppose that our Poet here augurs that great reform, which he
vainly hoped would follow on the arrival of the Emperor Henry
VII. in Italy. Lombardi refers the prognostication to Can Grande
della Scala: and, when we consider that this Canto was not
finished till after the death of  Henry, as appears from the
mention that is made of John XXII, it cannot be denied but the
conjecture is probable.
CANTO XXVIII
v. 36.  Heav'n, and all nature, hangs upon that point.]  [GREEK
Aristot. Metaph. 1. xii. c. 7.  "From that beginning depend
heaven and nature."
v. 43.  Such diff'rence.]  The material world and the
intelligential (the copy and the pattern) appear to Dante to
differ in this respect, that the orbits of the latter are more
swift, the nearer they are to the centre, whereas the contrary is
the case with the orbits of the former. The seeming contradiction
is thus accounted for by Beatrice.  In the material world, the
more ample the body is, the greater is the good of which itis
capable supposing all the parts to be equally perfect. But in the
intelligential world, the circles are more excellent and
powerful, the more they approximate to the central point, which
is God.  Thus the first circle, that of the seraphim, corresponds
to the ninth sphere, or primum mobile, the second, that of the
cherubim, to the eighth sphere, or heaven of fixed stars; the
third, or circle of thrones, to the seventh sphere, or planet of
Saturn; and in like manner throughout the two other trines of
circles and spheres.
Of circuit inexpressible they stood,
Orb within orb
Milton, P. L. b. v. 596.
v. 70.  The sturdy north.]  Compare Homer, II. b. v. 524.
v. 82.  In number.]  The sparkles exceeded the number which would
be produced by the sixty-four squares of a chess-board, if for
the first we reckoned one, for the next, two; for the third,
four; and so went on doubling to the end of the account.
v. 106.  Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram.]  Not
injured, like the productions of our spring, by the influence of
autumn, when the constellation Aries rises at sunset.
v. 110.  Dominations.]
Hear all ye angels, progeny of light,
Thrones, domination's, princedoms, virtues, powers.
Milton, P. L. b. v. 601.
v. 119.  Dionysius.]  The Areopagite, in his book De Caelesti
v. 124.  Gregory.]  Gregory the Great.  "Novem vero angelorum
ordines diximus, quia videlicet esse, testante sacro eloquio,
scimus: Angelos, archangelos, virtutes, potestates, principatus,
dominationae, thronos, cherubin atque seraphin."  Divi Gregorii,
Hom. xxxiv. f. 125.  ed. Par. 1518. fol.
v. 126.  He had learnt.]  Dionysius, he says, had learnt from St.
Paul. It is almost unnecessary to add, that the book, above
referred to, which goes under his name, was the production of a
v. 1.  No longer.]  As short a space, as the sun and moon are in
changing hemispheres, when they are opposite to one another, the
one under the sign of Aries, and the other under that of Libra,
and both hang for a moment, noised as it were in the hand of the
v. 22.  For, not in process of before or aft.]  There was neither
"before nor after," no distinction, that is, of time, till the
creation of the world.
v. 30.  His threefold operation.]  He seems to mean that
spiritual beings, brute matter, and the intermediate part of the
creation, which participates both of spirit and matter, were
produced at once.
v. 38.  On Jerome's pages.]  St. Jerome had described the angels
as created before the rest of the universe: an opinion which
Thomas  Aquinas controverted; and the latter, as Dante thinks,
had Scripture on his side.
v. 51.  Pent.]  See Hell, Canto XXXIV. 105.
v. 111.  Of Bindi and of Lapi.]  Common names of men at Florence
v. 112.  The sheep.]  So Milton, Lycidas.
The hungry sheep look up and are not fed,
But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly.
v. 121.  The preacher.] Thus Cowper, Task, b.  ii.
'Tis pitiful
To court a grin, when you should woo a soul, &c.
v. 131.  Saint Anthony.
Fattens with this his swine.]
On the sale of these blessings, the brothers of St. Anthony
supported themselves and their paramours.  From behind the swine
of St. Anthony, our Poet levels a blow at the object of his
inveterate enmity, Boniface VIII, from whom, "in 1297, they
obtained the dignity and privileges of an independent
congregation."  See Mosheim's Eccles. History in Dr. Maclaine's
Translation, v. ii.  cent. xi. p. 2. c. 2.  - 28.
v. 140.  Daniel.]  "Thousand thousands ministered unto him, and
ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him."  Dan. c. vii.
v. 1.  Six thousand miles.]  He compares the vanishing of the
vision to the fading away of the stars at dawn, when it is
noon-day six thousand miles off, and the shadow, formed by the
earth over the part of it inhabited by the Poet, is about to
v. 13.  Engirt.]  " ppearing to be encompassed by these angelic
bands, which are in reality encompassed by it."
v. 18.  This turn.]  Questa vice.
Hence perhaps Milton, P. L. b. viii. 491.
This turn hath made amends.
v. 39.  Forth.]  From the ninth sphere to the empyrean, which is
v. 44.  Either mighty host.]  Of angels, that remained faithful,
and of beatified souls, the latter in that form which they will
have at the last day.
v. 61.  Light flowing.]  "And he showed me a pure river of water
of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God
and of the Lamb." Rev. cxxii. I.
--underneath a bright sea flow'd
Of jasper, or of liquid pearl.
Milton, P. L. b. iii.  518.
v. 80.  Shadowy of the truth.]
Son di lor vero ombriferi prefazii.
So Mr. Coleridge, in his Religious Musings, v. 406.
Life is a vision shadowy of truth.
v. 88.  --the eves
Of mine eyelids.]
Thus Shakespeare calls the eyelids "penthouse lids." Macbeth, a,
v. 108.  As some cliff.]
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd
Her crystal mirror holds.
Milton, P. L. b. iv.  263.
v. 118.  My view with ease.]
Far and wide his eye commands
For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sunshine.
Milton, P. l. b. iii.  616.
v. 135.  Of the great Harry.]  The Emperor Henry VII, who died in
v. 141.  He.]  Pope Clement V. See Canto XXVII.  53.
v. 145.  Alagna's priest.]  Pope Boniface VIII.  Hell, Canto XIX.
v. 6.  Bees.]  Compare Homer, Iliad, ii.  87. Virg.  Aen. I. 430,
and Milton, P. L. b. 1.  768.
v. 29.  Helice.]  Callisto, and her son Arcas, changed into the
constellations of the Greater Bear and Arctophylax, or Bootes.
See Ovid, Met.  l. ii. fab. v. vi.
v. 93.  Bernard.]  St. Bernard, the venerable abbot of Clairvaux,
and the great promoter of the second crusade, who died A.D. 1153,
in his sixty-third year.  His sermons are called by Henault,
"chefs~d'oeuvres de sentiment et de force."  Abrege Chron. de
l'Hist.  de Fr. 1145. They have even been preferred to al1 the
productions of the ancients, and the author has been termed the
last of the fathers of the church. It is uncertain whether they
were not delivered originally in the French tongue.
That the part he acts in the present Poem should be assigned to
him. appears somewhat remarkable, when we consider that he
severely censured the new festival established in honour of the
Immaculate Conception of the virgin, and opposed the doctrine
itself with the greatest vigour, as it supposed her being
honoured with a privilegewhich belonged to Christ Alone Dr.
Maclaine's Mosheim, v. iii. cent. xii. p. ii. c. 3 - 19.
v. 95.  Our Veronica ] The holy handkerchief, then preserved at
Rome, on which the countenance of our Saviour was supposed to
have been imprest.
v. 101.  Him.]  St. Bernard.
v. 108.  The queen.]  The Virgin Mary.
v. 119.  Oriflamb.]  Menage on this word quotes the Roman des
-Iignages of Guillaume Ghyart.
Oriflamme est une banniere
De cendal roujoyant et simple
Sans portraiture d'autre affaire,
v. 3.  She.]  Eve.
v. 8.  Ancestress.]  Ruth, the ancestress of David.
v. 60.  In holy scripture.]  Gen. c. xxv.  22.
v. 123.  Lucia.]  See Hell, Canto II.  97.
CANTO XXXIII
v. 63.  The Sybil's sentence.]  Virg.  Aen.  iii. 445.
v. 89.  One moment.]  "A moment seems to me more tedious, than
five-and-twenty ages would have appeared to the Argonauts, when
they had resolved on their expedition.
v. 92.  Argo's shadow]
Quae simul ac rostro ventosnm proscidit aequor,
Tortaque remigio spumis incanduit unda,
Emersere feri candenti e gurgite vultus
Aequoreae monstrum Nereides admirantes.
Catullus, De Nupt.  Pel.  et Thet.  15.
v. 109.  Three orbs of triple hue, clipt in one bound.]  The
v. 118.  That circling.]  The second of the circles, "Light of
Light," in which he dimly beheld the mystery of the incarnation.
End Paradise.
In the years 1805 and 1806, I published the first part of the
following translation, with the text of the original.  Since that
period, two impressions of the whole of the Divina Commedia, in
Italian, have made their appearance in this country.  It is not
necessary that I should add a third: and I am induced to hope
that the Poem, even in the present version of it, may not be
without interest for the mere English reader.
The translation of the second and third parts, "The Purgatory"
and "The Paradise," was begun long before the first, and as early
as the year 1797; but, owing to many interruptions, not concluded
till the summer before last.  On a retrospect of the time and
exertions that have been thus employed, I do not regard those
hours as the least happy of my  life, during which (to use the
eloquent language of Mr. Coleridge) "my individual recollections
have been suspended, and lulled to sleep amid the music of nobler
thoughts;"  nor that study as misapplied, which has familiarized
me with one of the sublimest efforts of the human invention.
To those, who shall be at the trouble of examining into the
degree of accuracy with which the task has been executed, I may
be allowed to suggest, that their judgment should not be formed
on a comparison with any single text of my Author; since, in more
instances than I have noticed, I have had to make my choice out
of a variety of readings and interpretations, presented by
different editions and commentators.
In one or two of those editions is to be found the title of "The
Vision," which I have adopted, as more conformable to the genius
of our language than that of "The Divine Comedy."  Dante himself,
I believe, termed it simply "The Comedy;" in the first place,
because the style was of the middle kind:  and in the next,
because the story (if story it may be called) ends happily.
Instead of a Life of my Author, I have subjoined, in
chronological order, a view not only of the principal events
which befell him, but of the chief public occurrences that
happened in his time:  concerning both of which the reader may
obtain further information, by turning to the passages referred
to in the Poem and Notes.
January, 1814
          A CHRONOLOGICAL VIEW
                      OF
              THE AGE OF DANTE
1265.  Dante, son of Alighieri degli Alighieri and Bella, is born
at Florence.
Of his own ancestry he speaks in the Paradise, Canto XV. and XVI.
In the same year, Manfredi, king of Naples and Sicily, is
defeated and slain by Charles of Anjou.  Hell, C. XXVIII. 13.
And Purgatory, C. III. 110.
Guido Novello of Polenta obtains the sovereignty of Ravenna.
H. C. XXVII. 38.
1266.  Two of the Frati Godenti chosen arbitrators of the
differences at Florence.  H. C. XXIII. 104.
Gianni de' Soldanieri heads the populace in that city.  H. C.
1268.  Charles of Anjou puts Conradine to death, and becomes King
of Naples.  H. C. XXVIII. 16 and Purg C. XX. 66.
1272.  Henry III. of England is succeeded by Edward I. Purg. C.
1274.  Our Poet first sees Beatrice, daughter of Folco Portinari.
Guittone d'Arezzo, the poet, dies.  Purg. C. XXIV. 56.
Thomas Aquinas dies.  Purg. C. XX. 67.  and Par. C. X. 96.
Buonaventura dies.  Par. C. XII. 25.
1275.  Pierre de la Brosse, secretary to Philip III. of France,
executed.  Purg. C. VI. 23.
1276.  Giotto, the painter, is born.  Purg. C. XI. 95.  Pope
Adrian V. dies.  Purg. C. XIX. 97.
Guido Guinicelli, the poet, dies.  Purg. C. XI. 96. and C. XXVI.
1277.  Pope John XXI.  dies.  Par. C. XII. 126.
1278.  Ottocar, king of Bohemia, dies.  Purg. C. VII. 97.
1279.  Dionysius succeeds to the throne of Portugal.  Par. C.
1280.  Albertus Magnus dies.  Par. C. X. 95.
1281.  Pope Nicholas III. dies.  H. C. XIX 71.
Dante studies at the universities of Bologna and Padua.
1282.  The Sicilian vespers.  Par. C. VIII. 80.
The French defeated by the people of Forli.  H. C. XXVII. 41.
Tribaldello de' Manfredi betrays the city of Faenza.  H. C.
1284.  Prince Charles of Anjou is defeated and made prisoner by
de Lauria, admiral to Peter III. of Arragon.  Purg. C. XX. 78.
Charles I.  king of Naples, dies.  Purg. C. VII. 111.
1285.  Pope Martin IV.  dies.  Purg. C. XXIV. 23.
Philip III.  of France, and Peter III.  of Arragon, die. Purg. C.
VII. 101 and
Henry II. king of Cyprus, comes to the throne.  Par. C. XIX. 144.
1287.  Guido dalle Colonne (mentioned by Dante in his De Vulgari
Eloquio) writes "The War of Troy."
1288.  Haquin, king of Norway, makes war on Denmark.  Par. C.
Count Ugolino de' Gherardeschi dies of famine.  H. C. XXXIII. 14.
1289.  Dante is in the battle of Campaldino, where the
Florentines defeat the people of Arezzo, June 11. Purg. C. V. 90.
1290.  Beatrice dies.  Purg. C. XXXII. 2.
He serves in the war waged by the Florentines upon the Pisans,
and is present at the surrender of Caprona in the autumn.  H. C.
1291.  He marries Gemma de' Donati, with whom he lives unhappily.
By this marriage he had five sons and a daughter.
Can Grande della Scala is born, March 9.  H. C. I. 98. Purg. C.
XX. 16.  Par. C. XVII. 75. and XXVII. 135.
The renegade Christians assist the Saracens to recover St. John
D'Acre.  H. C. XXVII. 84.
The Emperor Rodolph dies.  Purg. C. VI. 104. and VII. 91.
Alonzo III.  of Arragon dies, and is succeeded by James II.
Purg. C. VII. 113. and Par. C. XIX. 133.
1294.  Clement V.  abdicates the papal chair.  H. C. III. 56.
Dante writes his Vita Nuova.
1295.  His preceptor, Brunetto Latini, dies.  H.  C. XV. 28.
Charles Martel, king of Hungary, visits Florence, Par.  C. VIII.
57. and dies in the same year.
Frederick, son of Peter III. of Arragon, becomes king of Sicily.
Purg. C. VII. 117. and Par. C. XIX. 127.
1296.  Forese, the companion of Dante, dies. Purg. C. XXXIII. 44.
1300.  The Bianca and Nera parties take their rise in Pistoia.
H. C. XXXII. 60.
This is the year in which he supposes himself to see his Vision.
H. C. I. 1. and XXI. 109.
He is chosen chief magistrate, or first of the Priors of
Florence; and continues in office from June 15 to August 15.
Cimabue, the painter, dies.  Purg. C. XI. 93.
Guido Cavalcanti, the most beloved of our Poet's friends, dies.
H. C. X. 59. and Purg  C. XI. 96.
1301.  The Bianca party expels the Nera from Pistoia.  H. C.
1302.  January 27.  During his absence at Rome, Dante is mulcted
by his fellow-citizens in the sum of 8000 lire, and condemned to
two years' banishment.
March 10.  He is sentenced, if taken, to be burned.
Fulcieri de' Calboli commits great atrocities on certain of the
Ghibelline party.  Purg. C. XIV. 61.
Carlino de' Pazzi betrays the castle di Piano Travigne, in
Valdarno, to the Florentines.  H. C. XXXII. 67.
The French vanquished in the battle of Courtrai. Purg. C. XX. 47.
James, king of Majorca and Minorca, dies.  Par. C. XIX. 133.
1303.  Pope Boniface VIII.  dies.  H. C. XIX. 55.  Purg.  C. XX.
146. and Par. C. XXVII. 20.
The other exiles appoint Dante one of a council of twelve, under
Alessandro da Romena.
He appears to have been much dissatisfied with his colleagues.
Par. C. XVII. 61.
1304.  He joins with the exiles in an unsuccessful attack on the
city of Florence.
May.  The bridge over the Arno breaks down during a
representation of the infernal torments exhibited on that river.
H. C. XXVI.  9.
July 20.  Petrarch, whose father had been banished two years
before from Florence, is born at Arezzo.
1305.  Winceslaus II.  king of Bohemia, dies.  Purg. C. VII. 99.
and Par. C. XIX 123.
A conflagration happens at Florence.  H. C. XXVI. 9.
1306.  Dante visits Padua.
1307.  He is in Lunigiana with the Marchese Marcello Malaspina.
Purg. C. VIII. 133.  and C. XIX. 140.
Dolcino, the fanatic, is burned.  H. C. XXVIII. 53.
1308.  The Emperor Albert I.  murdered.  Purg. C. VI. 98. and
Par. C. XIX. 114.
Corso Donati, Dante's political enemy, slain.  Purg. C. XXIV. 81.
He seeks an asylum at Verona, under the roof of the Signori della
Scala.  Par. C. XVII. 69.  He wanders, about this time, over
various parts of Italy.  See his Convito.  He is at Paris twice;
and, as one of the early commentators reports, at Oxford.
1309.  Charles II. king of Naples, dies.  Par. C. XIX. 125.
1310.  The Order of the Templars abolished.  Purg. C. XX. 94.
1313.  The Emperor Henry of Luxemburg, by whom he had hoped to be
restored to Florence, dies.  Par. C. XVII. 80.  and XXX. 135.
He takes refuge at Ravenna with Guido Novello da Polenta.
1314.  Pope Clement V. dies.  H. C. XIX. 86.  and
Par. C. XXVII. 53.  and XXX. 141.
Philip IV.  of France dies.  Purg. C. VII. 108. and Par. C. XIX.
Ferdinand IV.  of Spain, dies.  Par.  C.  XIX.  122.
Giacopo da Carrara defeated by Can Grande.  Par. C. IX. 45.
1316.  John XXII. elected Pope.  Par. C. XXVII. 53.
1321.  July.  Dante dies at Ravenna, of a complaint brought on by
disappointment at his failure in a negotiation which he had been
conducting with the Venetians, for his patron Guido Novello da
His obsequies are sumptuously performed at Ravenna by Guido, who
himself died in the ensuing year.
THE DIVINE COMEDY
OF DANTE ALIGHIERI
TRANSLATED BY
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The base text for this edition has been provided by Digital Dante,
a project sponsored by Columbia University's Institute for Learning
Technologies.  Specific thanks goes to Jennifer Hogan (Project
Editor/Director), Tanya Larkin (Assistant to Editor), Robert W. Cole
(Proofreader/Assistant Editor), and Jennifer Cook (Proofreader).
The Digital Dante Project is a digital 'study space' for Dante studies and
scholarship.  The project is multi-faceted and fluid by nature of the Web.
Digital Dante attempts to organize the information most significant for
students first engaging with Dante and scholars researching Dante.  The
digital of Digital Dante incurs a new challenge to the student, the
scholar, and teacher, perusing the Web: to become proficient in the new
tools, e.g., Search, the Discussion Group, well enough to look beyond the
technology and delve into the content.  For more information and access to
the project, please visit its web site at:
http://www.ilt.columbia.edu/projects/dante/
For this Project Gutenberg edition the e-text was rechecked.  The editor
greatly thanks Dian McCarthy for her assistance in proofreading the
Paradiso.  Also deserving praise are Herbert Fann for programming the text
editor "Desktop Tools/Edit" and the late August Dvorak for designing his
keyboard layout.  Please refer to Project Gutenberg's e-text listings for
other editions or translations of 'The Divine Comedy.'  Please refer to
the end of this file for supplemental materials.
Dennis McCarthy, July 1997
imprimatur@juno.com
     I. The Dark Forest.  The Hill of Difficulty.  The Panther,
        the Lion, and the Wolf.  Virgil.
    II. The Descent.  Dante's Protest and Virgil's Appeal.
        The Intercession of the Three Ladies Benedight.
   III. The Gate of Hell.  The Inefficient or Indifferent.
        Pope Celestine V.  The Shores of Acheron.  Charon.
        The Earthquake and the Swoon.
    IV. The First Circle, Limbo: Virtuous Pagans and the Unbaptized.
        The Four Poets, Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan.  The Noble
        Castle of Philosophy.
     V. The Second Circle: The Wanton.  Minos.  The Infernal Hurricane.
        Francesca da Rimini.
    VI. The Third Circle: The Gluttonous.  Cerberus.  The Eternal Rain.
        Ciacco.  Florence.
   VII. The Fourth Circle: The Avaricious and the Prodigal.
        Plutus.  Fortune and her Wheel.  The Fifth Circle:
        The Irascible and the Sullen.  Styx.
  VIII. Phlegyas.  Philippo Argenti.  The Gate of the City of Dis.
    IX. The Furies and Medusa.  The Angel.  The City of Dis.
        The Sixth Circle: Heresiarchs.
     X. Farinata and Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti.  Discourse on the
        Knowledge of the Damned.
    XI. The Broken Rocks.  Pope Anastasius.  General Description of
        the Inferno and its Divisions.
   XII. The Minotaur.  The Seventh Circle: The Violent.
        The River Phlegethon.  The Violent against their Neighbours.
        The Centaurs.  Tyrants.
  XIII. The Wood of Thorns.  The Harpies.  The Violent
        against themselves.  Suicides.  Pier della Vigna.
        Lano and Jacopo da Sant' Andrea.
   XIV. The Sand Waste and the Rain of Fire.  The Violent against God.
        Capaneus.  The Statue of Time, and the Four Infernal Rivers.
    XV. The Violent against Nature.  Brunetto Latini.
   XVI. Guidoguerra, Aldobrandi, and Rusticucci.  Cataract of
        the River of Blood.
  XVII. Geryon.  The Violent against Art.  Usurers.  Descent into
        the Abyss of Malebolge.
 XVIII. The Eighth Circle, Malebolge: The Fraudulent and
        the Malicious.  The First Bolgia: Seducers and Panders.
        Venedico Caccianimico.  Jason.  The Second Bolgia:
        Flatterers.  Allessio Interminelli.  Thais.
   XIX. The Third Bolgia: Simoniacs.  Pope Nicholas III.
        Dante's Reproof of corrupt Prelates.
    XX. The Fourth Bolgia: Soothsayers.  Amphiaraus, Tiresias, Aruns,
        Manto, Eryphylus, Michael Scott, Guido Bonatti, and Asdente.
        Virgil reproaches Dante's Pity.  Mantua's Foundation.
   XXI. The Fifth Bolgia: Peculators.  The Elder of Santa Zita.
        Malacoda and other Devils.
  XXII. Ciampolo, Friar Gomita, and Michael Zanche.
        The Malabranche quarrel.
 XXIII. Escape from the Malabranche.  The Sixth Bolgia: Hypocrites.
        Catalano and Loderingo.  Caiaphas.
  XXIV. The Seventh Bolgia: Thieves.  Vanni Fucci.  Serpents.
   XXV. Vanni Fucci's Punishment.  Agnello Brunelleschi,
        Buoso degli Abati, Puccio Sciancato, Cianfa de' Donati,
        and Guercio Cavalcanti.
  XXVI. The Eighth Bolgia: Evil Counsellors.  Ulysses and Diomed.
        Ulysses' Last Voyage.
 XXVII. Guido da Montefeltro.  His deception by Pope Boniface VIII.
XXVIII. The Ninth Bolgia: Schismatics.  Mahomet and Ali.
        Pier da Medicina, Curio, Mosca, and Bertrand de Born.
  XXIX. Geri del Bello.  The Tenth Bolgia: Alchemists.
        Griffolino d' Arezzo and Capocchino.
   XXX. Other Falsifiers or Forgers.  Gianni Schicchi, Myrrha,
        Adam of Brescia, Potiphar's Wife, and Sinon of Troy.
  XXXI. The Giants, Nimrod, Ephialtes, and Antaeus.
        Descent to Cocytus.
 XXXII. The Ninth Circle: Traitors.  The Frozen Lake of Cocytus.
        First Division, Caina: Traitors to their Kindred.
        Camicion de' Pazzi.  Second Division, Antenora:
        Traitors to their Country.  Dante questions
        Bocca degli Abati.  Buoso da Duera.
XXXIII. Count Ugolino and the Archbishop Ruggieri.  The Death
        of Count Ugolino's Sons.  Third Division of the Ninth Circle,
        Ptolomaea: Traitors to their Friends.  Friar Alberigo,
        Branco d' Oria.
 XXXIV. Fourth Division of the Ninth Circle, the Judecca:
        Traitors to their Lords and Benefactors.  Lucifer,
        Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius. The Chasm of Lethe.
        The Ascent.
     I. The Shores of Purgatory.  The Four Stars.  Cato of Utica.
        The Rush.
    II. The Celestial Pilot.  Casella.  The Departure.
   III. Discourse on the Limits of Reason.  The Foot of the Mountain.
        Those who died in Contumacy of Holy Church.  Manfredi.
    IV. Farther Ascent.  Nature of the Mountain.  The Negligent,
        who postponed Repentance till the last Hour.  Belacqua.
     V. Those who died by Violence, but repentant.
        Buonconte di Monfeltro.  La Pia.
    VI. Dante's Inquiry on Prayers for the Dead.  Sordello.  Italy.
   VII. The Valley of Flowers.  Negligent Princes.
  VIII. The Guardian Angels and the Serpent.  Nino di Gallura.
        The Three Stars.  Currado Malaspina.
    IX. Dante's Dream of the Eagle.  The Gate of Purgatory and
        the Angel.  Seven P's.  The Keys.
     X. The Needle's Eye.  The First Circle: The Proud.
        The Sculptures on the Wall.
    XI. The Humble Prayer.  Omberto di Santafiore.
        Oderisi d' Agobbio.  Provenzan Salvani.
   XII. The Sculptures on the Pavement.  Ascent to the Second Circle.
  XIII. The Second Circle: The Envious.  Sapia of Siena.
   XIV. Guido del Duca and Renier da Calboli.  Cities of
        the Arno Valley.  Denunciation of Stubbornness.
    XV. The Third Circle: The Irascible.  Dante's Visions.  The Smoke.
   XVI. Marco Lombardo.  Lament over the State of the World.
  XVII. Dante's Dream of Anger.  The Fourth Circle: The Slothful.
        Virgil's Discourse of Love.
 XVIII. Virgil further discourses of Love and Free Will.
        The Abbot of San Zeno.
   XIX. Dante's Dream of the Siren.  The Fifth Circle:
        The Avaricious and Prodigal.  Pope Adrian V.
    XX. Hugh Capet.  Corruption of the French Crown.
        Prophecy of the Abduction of Pope Boniface VIII and
        the Sacrilege of Philip the Fair.  The Earthquake.
   XXI. The Poet Statius.  Praise of Virgil.
  XXII. Statius' Denunciation of Avarice.  The Sixth Circle:
        The Gluttonous.  The Mystic Tree.
 XXIII. Forese.  Reproof of immodest Florentine Women.
  XXIV. Buonagiunta da Lucca.  Pope Martin IV, and others.
        Inquiry into the State of Poetry.
   XXV. Discourse of Statius on Generation.  The Seventh Circle:
        The Wanton.
  XXVI. Sodomites.  Guido Guinicelli and Arnaldo Daniello.
 XXVII. The Wall of Fire and the Angel of God.  Dante's Sleep
        upon the Stairway, and his Dream of Leah and Rachel.
        Arrival at the Terrestrial Paradise.
XXVIII. The River Lethe.  Matilda.  The Nature of
        the Terrestrial Paradise.
  XXIX. The Triumph of the Church.
   XXX. Virgil's Departure.  Beatrice.  Dante's Shame.
  XXXI. Reproaches of Beatrice and Confession of Dante.
        The Passage of Lethe.  The Seven Virtues.  The Griffon.
 XXXII. The Tree of Knowledge.  Allegory of the Chariot.
XXXIII. Lament over the State of the Church.  Final Reproaches
        of Beatrice.  The River Eunoe.
     I. The Ascent to the First Heaven.  The Sphere of Fire.
    II. The First Heaven, the Moon: Spirits who, having taken
        Sacred Vows, were forced to violate them.  The Lunar Spots.
   III. Piccarda Donati and the Empress Constance.
    IV. Questionings of the Soul and of Broken Vows.
     V. Discourse of Beatrice on Vows and Compensations.
        Ascent to the Second Heaven, Mercury: Spirits who for
        the Love of Fame achieved great Deeds.
    VI. Justinian.  The Roman Eagle.  The Empire.  Romeo.
   VII. Beatrice's Discourse of the Crucifixion, the Incarnation,
        the Immortality of the Soul, and the Resurrection of the Body.
  VIII. Ascent to the Third Heaven, Venus: Lovers.  Charles Martel.
        Discourse on diverse Natures.
    IX. Cunizza da Romano, Folco of Marseilles, and Rahab.
        Neglect of the Holy Land.
     X. The Fourth Heaven, the Sun: Theologians and Fathers of
        the Church.  The First Circle.  St. Thomas of Aquinas.
    XI. St. Thomas recounts the Life of St. Francis.  Lament over
        the State of the Dominican Order.
   XII. St. Buonaventura recounts the Life of St. Dominic.  Lament
        over the State of the Franciscan Order.  The Second Circle.
  XIII. Of the Wisdom of Solomon.  St. Thomas reproaches
        Dante's Judgement.
   XIV. The Third Circle.  Discourse on the Resurrection of the Flesh.
        The Fifth Heaven, Mars: Martyrs and Crusaders who died fighting
        for the true Faith.  The Celestial Cross.
    XV. Cacciaguida.  Florence in the Olden Time.
   XVI. Dante's Noble Ancestry.  Cacciaguida's Discourse of
        the Great Florentines.
  XVII. Cacciaguida's Prophecy of Dante's Banishment.
 XVIII. The Sixth Heaven, Jupiter: Righteous Kings and Rulers.
        The Celestial Eagle.  Dante's Invectives against
        ecclesiastical Avarice.
   XIX. The Eagle discourses of Salvation, Faith, and Virtue.
        Condemnation of the vile Kings of A.D. 1300.
    XX. The Eagle praises the Righteous Kings of old.
        Benevolence of the Divine Will.
   XXI. The Seventh Heaven, Saturn: The Contemplative.
        The Celestial Stairway.  St. Peter Damiano.  His Invectives
        against the Luxury of the Prelates.
  XXII. St. Benedict.  His Lamentation over the Corruption of Monks.
        The Eighth Heaven, the Fixed Stars.
 XXIII. The Triumph of Christ.  The Virgin Mary.  The Apostles.
        Gabriel.
  XXIV. The Radiant Wheel.  St. Peter examines Dante on Faith.
   XXV. The Laurel Crown.  St. James examines Dante on Hope.
        Dante's Blindness.
  XXVI. St. John examines Dante on Charity.  Dante's Sight.  Adam.
 XXVII. St. Peter's reproof of bad Popes.  The Ascent to
        the Ninth Heaven, the 'Primum Mobile.'
XXVIII. God and the Angelic Hierarchies.
  XXIX. Beatrice's Discourse of the Creation of the Angels,
        and of the Fall of Lucifer.  Her Reproof of Foolish and
        Avaricious Preachers.
   XXX. The Tenth Heaven, or Empyrean.  The River of Light.
        The Two Courts of Heaven.  The White Rose of Paradise.
        The great Throne.
  XXXI. The Glory of Paradise.  Departure of Beatrice.  St. Bernard.
 XXXII. St. Bernard points out the Saints in the White Rose.
XXXIII. Prayer to the Virgin.  The Threefold Circle of the Trinity.
        Mystery of the Divine and Human Nature.
Incipit Comoedia Dantis Alagherii,
Florentini natione, non moribus.
The Divine Comedy
translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(e-text courtesy ILT's Digital Dante Project)
Inferno: Canto I
Midway upon the journey of our life
  I found myself within a forest dark,
  For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
  What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
  Which in the very thought renews the fear.
So bitter is it, death is little more;
  But of the good to treat, which there I found,
  Speak will I of the other things I saw there.
I cannot well repeat how there I entered,
  So full was I of slumber at the moment
  In which I had abandoned the true way.
But after I had reached a mountain's foot,
  At that point where the valley terminated,
  Which had with consternation pierced my heart,
Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,
  Vested already with that planet's rays
  Which leadeth others right by every road.
Then was the fear a little quieted
  That in my heart's lake had endured throughout
  The night, which I had passed so piteously.
And even as he, who, with distressful breath,
  Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,
  Turns to the water perilous and gazes;
So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,
  Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
  Which never yet a living person left.
After my weary body I had rested,
  The way resumed I on the desert slope,
  So that the firm foot ever was the lower.
And lo! almost where the ascent began,
  A panther light and swift exceedingly,
  Which with a spotted skin was covered o'er!
And never moved she from before my face,
  Nay, rather did impede so much my way,
  That many times I to return had turned.
The time was the beginning of the morning,
  And up the sun was mounting with those stars
  That with him were, what time the Love Divine
At first in motion set those beauteous things;
  So were to me occasion of good hope,
  The variegated skin of that wild beast,
The hour of time, and the delicious season;
  But not so much, that did not give me fear
  A lion's aspect which appeared to me.
He seemed as if against me he were coming
  With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,
  So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;
And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings
  Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,
  And many folk has caused to live forlorn!
She brought upon me so much heaviness,
  With the affright that from her aspect came,
  That I the hope relinquished of the height.
And as he is who willingly acquires,
  And the time comes that causes him to lose,
  Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,
E'en such made me that beast withouten peace,
  Which, coming on against me by degrees
  Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.
While I was rushing downward to the lowland,
  Before mine eyes did one present himself,
  Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.
When I beheld him in the desert vast,
  "Have pity on me," unto him I cried,
  "Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man!"
He answered me: "Not man; man once I was,
  And both my parents were of Lombardy,
  And Mantuans by country both of them.
'Sub Julio' was I born, though it was late,
  And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,
  During the time of false and lying gods.
A poet was I, and I sang that just
  Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,
  After that Ilion the superb was burned.
But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?
  Why climb'st thou not the Mount Delectable,
  Which is the source and cause of every joy?"
"Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain
  Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?"
  I made response to him with bashful forehead.
"O, of the other poets honour and light,
  Avail me the long study and great love
  That have impelled me to explore thy volume!
Thou art my master, and my author thou,
  Thou art alone the one from whom I took
  The beautiful style that has done honour to me.
Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
  Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
  For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble."
"Thee it behoves to take another road,"
  Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,
  "If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;
Because this beast, at which thou criest out,
  Suffers not any one to pass her way,
  But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;
And has a nature so malign and ruthless,
  That never doth she glut her greedy will,
  And after food is hungrier than before.
Many the animals with whom she weds,
  And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound
  Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.
He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
  But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;
  'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;
Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
  On whose account the maid Camilla died,
  Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;
Through every city shall he hunt her down,
  Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,
  There from whence envy first did let her loose.
Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
  Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,
  And lead thee hence through the eternal place,
Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
  Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
  Who cry out each one for the second death;
And thou shalt see those who contented are
  Within the fire, because they hope to come,
  Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;
To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
  A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;
  With her at my departure I will leave thee;
Because that Emperor, who reigns above,
  In that I was rebellious to his law,
  Wills that through me none come into his city.
He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;
  There is his city and his lofty throne;
  O happy he whom thereto he elects!"
And I to him: "Poet, I thee entreat,
  By that same God whom thou didst never know,
  So that I may escape this woe and worse,
Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,
  That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,
  And those thou makest so disconsolate."
Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.
Inferno: Canto II
Day was departing, and the embrowned air
  Released the animals that are on earth
  From their fatigues; and I the only one
Made myself ready to sustain the war,
  Both of the way and likewise of the woe,
  Which memory that errs not shall retrace.
O Muses, O high genius, now assist me!
  O memory, that didst write down what I saw,
  Here thy nobility shall be manifest!
And I began: "Poet, who guidest me,
  Regard my manhood, if it be sufficient,
  Ere to the arduous pass thou dost confide me.
Thou sayest, that of Silvius the parent,
  While yet corruptible, unto the world
  Immortal went, and was there bodily.
But if the adversary of all evil
  Was courteous, thinking of the high effect
  That issue would from him, and who, and what,
To men of intellect unmeet it seems not;
  For he was of great Rome, and of her empire
  In the empyreal heaven as father chosen;
The which and what, wishing to speak the truth,
  Were stablished as the holy place, wherein
  Sits the successor of the greatest Peter.
Upon this journey, whence thou givest him vaunt,
  Things did he hear, which the occasion were
  Both of his victory and the papal mantle.
Thither went afterwards the Chosen Vessel,
  To bring back comfort thence unto that Faith,
  Which of salvation's way is the beginning.
But I, why thither come, or who concedes it?
  I not Aeneas am, I am not Paul,
  Nor I, nor others, think me worthy of it.
Therefore, if I resign myself to come,
  I fear the coming may be ill-advised;
  Thou'rt wise, and knowest better than I speak."
And as he is, who unwills what he willed,
  And by new thoughts doth his intention change,
  So that from his design he quite withdraws,
Such I became, upon that dark hillside,
  Because, in thinking, I consumed the emprise,
  Which was so very prompt in the beginning.
"If I have well thy language understood,"
  Replied that shade of the Magnanimous,
  "Thy soul attainted is with cowardice,
Which many times a man encumbers so,
  It turns him back from honoured enterprise,
  As false sight doth a beast, when he is shy.
That thou mayst free thee from this apprehension,
  I'll tell thee why I came, and what I heard
  At the first moment when I grieved for thee.
Among those was I who are in suspense,
  And a fair, saintly Lady called to me
  In such wise, I besought her to command me.
Her eyes where shining brighter than the Star;
  And she began to say, gentle and low,
  With voice angelical, in her own language:
'O spirit courteous of Mantua,
  Of whom the fame still in the world endures,
  And shall endure, long-lasting as the world;
A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune,
  Upon the desert slope is so impeded
  Upon his way, that he has turned through terror,
And may, I fear, already be so lost,
  That I too late have risen to his succour,
  From that which I have heard of him in Heaven.
Bestir thee now, and with thy speech ornate,
  And with what needful is for his release,
  Assist him so, that I may be consoled.
Beatrice am I, who do bid thee go;
  I come from there, where I would fain return;
  Love moved me, which compelleth me to speak.
When I shall be in presence of my Lord,
  Full often will I praise thee unto him.'
  Then paused she, and thereafter I began:
'O Lady of virtue, thou alone through whom
  The human race exceedeth all contained
  Within the heaven that has the lesser circles,
So grateful unto me is thy commandment,
  To obey, if 'twere already done, were late;
  No farther need'st thou ope to me thy wish.
But the cause tell me why thou dost not shun
  The here descending down into this centre,
  From the vast place thou burnest to return to.'
'Since thou wouldst fain so inwardly discern,
  Briefly will I relate,' she answered me,
  'Why I am not afraid to enter here.
Of those things only should one be afraid
  Which have the power of doing others harm;
  Of the rest, no; because they are not fearful.
God in his mercy such created me
  That misery of yours attains me not,
  Nor any flame assails me of this burning.
A gentle Lady is in Heaven, who grieves
  At this impediment, to which I send thee,
  So that stern judgment there above is broken.
In her entreaty she besought Lucia,
  And said, "Thy faithful one now stands in need
  Of thee, and unto thee I recommend him."
Lucia, foe of all that cruel is,
  Hastened away, and came unto the place
  Where I was sitting with the ancient Rachel.
"Beatrice" said she, "the true praise of God,
  Why succourest thou not him, who loved thee so,
  For thee he issued from the vulgar herd?
Dost thou not hear the pity of his plaint?
  Dost thou not see the death that combats him
  Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt?"
Never were persons in the world so swift
  To work their weal and to escape their woe,
  As I, after such words as these were uttered,
Came hither downward from my blessed seat,
  Confiding in thy dignified discourse,
  Which honours thee, and those who've listened to it.'
After she thus had spoken unto me,
  Weeping, her shining eyes she turned away;
  Whereby she made me swifter in my coming;
And unto thee I came, as she desired;
  I have delivered thee from that wild beast,
  Which barred the beautiful mountain's short ascent.
What is it, then?  Why, why dost thou delay?
  Why is such baseness bedded in thy heart?
  Daring and hardihood why hast thou not,
Seeing that three such Ladies benedight
  Are caring for thee in the court of Heaven,
  And so much good my speech doth promise thee?"
Even as the flowerets, by nocturnal chill,
  Bowed down and closed, when the sun whitens them,
  Uplift themselves all open on their stems;
Such I became with my exhausted strength,
  And such good courage to my heart there coursed,
  That I began, like an intrepid person:
"O she compassionate, who succoured me,
  And courteous thou, who hast obeyed so soon
  The words of truth which she addressed to thee!
Thou hast my heart so with desire disposed
  To the adventure, with these words of thine,
  That to my first intent I have returned.
Now go, for one sole will is in us both,
  Thou Leader, and thou Lord, and Master thou."
  Thus said I to him; and when he had moved,
I entered on the deep and savage way.
Inferno: Canto III
"Through me the way is to the city dolent;
  Through me the way is to eternal dole;
  Through me the way among the people lost.
Justice incited my sublime Creator;
  Created me divine Omnipotence,
  The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.
Before me there were no created things,
  Only eterne, and I eternal last.
  All hope abandon, ye who enter in!"
These words in sombre colour I beheld
  Written upon the summit of a gate;
  Whence I: "Their sense is, Master, hard to me!"
And he to me, as one experienced:
  "Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned,
  All cowardice must needs be here extinct.
We to the place have come, where I have told thee
  Thou shalt behold the people dolorous
  Who have foregone the good of intellect."
And after he had laid his hand on mine
  With joyful mien, whence I was comforted,
  He led me in among the secret things.
There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud
  Resounded through the air without a star,
  Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat.
Languages diverse, horrible dialects,
  Accents of anger, words of agony,
  And voices high and hoarse, with sound of hands,
Made up a tumult that goes whirling on
  For ever in that air for ever black,
  Even as the sand doth, when the whirlwind breathes.
And I, who had my head with horror bound,
  Said: "Master, what is this which now I hear?
  What folk is this, which seems by pain so vanquished?"
And he to me: "This miserable mode
  Maintain the melancholy souls of those
  Who lived withouten infamy or praise.
Commingled are they with that caitiff choir
  Of Angels, who have not rebellious been,
  Nor faithful were to God, but were for self.
The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair;
  Nor them the nethermore abyss receives,
  For glory none the damned would have from them."
And I: "O Master, what so grievous is
  To these, that maketh them lament so sore?"
  He answered: "I will tell thee very briefly.
These have no longer any hope of death;
  And this blind life of theirs is so debased,
  They envious are of every other fate.
No fame of them the world permits to be;
  Misericord and Justice both disdain them.
  Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass."
And I, who looked again, beheld a banner,
  Which, whirling round, ran on so rapidly,
  That of all pause it seemed to me indignant;
And after it there came so long a train
  Of people, that I ne'er would have believed
  That ever Death so many had undone.
When some among them I had recognised,
  I looked, and I beheld the shade of him
  Who made through cowardice the great refusal.
Forthwith I comprehended, and was certain,
  That this the sect was of the caitiff wretches
  Hateful to God and to his enemies.
These miscreants, who never were alive,
  Were naked, and were stung exceedingly
  By gadflies and by hornets that were there.
These did their faces irrigate with blood,
  Which, with their tears commingled, at their feet
  By the disgusting worms was gathered up.
And when to gazing farther I betook me.
  People I saw on a great river's bank;
  Whence said I: "Master, now vouchsafe to me,
That I may know who these are, and what law
  Makes them appear so ready to pass over,
  As I discern athwart the dusky light."
And he to me: "These things shall all be known
  To thee, as soon as we our footsteps stay
  Upon the dismal shore of Acheron."
Then with mine eyes ashamed and downward cast,
  Fearing my words might irksome be to him,
  From speech refrained I till we reached the river.
And lo! towards us coming in a boat
  An old man, hoary with the hair of eld,
  Crying: "Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!
Hope nevermore to look upon the heavens;
  I come to lead you to the other shore,
  To the eternal shades in heat and frost.
And thou, that yonder standest, living soul,
  Withdraw thee from these people, who are dead!"
  But when he saw that I did not withdraw,
He said: "By other ways, by other ports
  Thou to the shore shalt come, not here, for passage;
  A lighter vessel needs must carry thee."
And unto him the Guide: "Vex thee not, Charon;
  It is so willed there where is power to do
  That which is willed; and farther question not."
Thereat were quieted the fleecy cheeks
  Of him the ferryman of the livid fen,
  Who round about his eyes had wheels of flame.
But all those souls who weary were and naked
  Their colour changed and gnashed their teeth together,
  As soon as they had heard those cruel words.
God they blasphemed and their progenitors,
  The human race, the place, the time, the seed
  Of their engendering and of their birth!
Thereafter all together they drew back,
  Bitterly weeping, to the accursed shore,
  Which waiteth every man who fears not God.
Charon the demon, with the eyes of glede,
  Beckoning to them, collects them all together,
  Beats with his oar whoever lags behind.
As in the autumn-time the leaves fall off,
  First one and then another, till the branch
  Unto the earth surrenders all its spoils;
In similar wise the evil seed of Adam
  Throw themselves from that margin one by one,
  At signals, as a bird unto its lure.
So they depart across the dusky wave,
  And ere upon the other side they land,
  Again on this side a new troop assembles.
"My son," the courteous Master said to me,
  "All those who perish in the wrath of God
  Here meet together out of every land;
And ready are they to pass o'er the river,
  Because celestial Justice spurs them on,
  So that their fear is turned into desire.
This way there never passes a good soul;
  And hence if Charon doth complain of thee,
  Well mayst thou know now what his speech imports."
This being finished, all the dusk champaign
  Trembled so violently, that of that terror
  The recollection bathes me still with sweat.
The land of tears gave forth a blast of wind,
  And fulminated a vermilion light,
  Which overmastered in me every sense,
And as a man whom sleep hath seized I fell.
Inferno: Canto IV
Broke the deep lethargy within my head
  A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted,
  Like to a person who by force is wakened;
And round about I moved my rested eyes,
  Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed,
  To recognise the place wherein I was.
True is it, that upon the verge I found me
  Of the abysmal valley dolorous,
  That gathers thunder of infinite ululations.
Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous,
  So that by fixing on its depths my sight
  Nothing whatever I discerned therein.
"Let us descend now into the blind world,"
  Began the Poet, pallid utterly;
  "I will be first, and thou shalt second be."
And I, who of his colour was aware,
  Said: "How shall I come, if thou art afraid,
  Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?"
And he to me: "The anguish of the people
  Who are below here in my face depicts
  That pity which for terror thou hast taken.
Let us go on, for the long way impels us."
  Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter
  The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.
There, as it seemed to me from listening,
  Were lamentations none, but only sighs,
  That tremble made the everlasting air.
And this arose from sorrow without torment,
  Which the crowds had, that many were and great,
  Of infants and of women and of men.
To me the Master good: "Thou dost not ask
  What spirits these, which thou beholdest, are?
  Now will I have thee know, ere thou go farther,
That they sinned not; and if they merit had,
  'Tis not enough, because they had not baptism
  Which is the portal of the Faith thou holdest;
And if they were before Christianity,
  In the right manner they adored not God;
  And among such as these am I myself.
For such defects, and not for other guilt,
  Lost are we and are only so far punished,
  That without hope we live on in desire."
Great grief seized on my heart when this I heard,
  Because some people of much worthiness
  I knew, who in that Limbo were suspended.
"Tell me, my Master, tell me, thou my Lord,"
  Began I, with desire of being certain
  Of that Faith which o'ercometh every error,
"Came any one by his own merit hence,
  Or by another's, who was blessed thereafter?"
  And he, who understood my covert speech,
Replied: "I was a novice in this state,
  When I saw hither come a Mighty One,
  With sign of victory incoronate.
Hence he drew forth the shade of the First Parent,
  And that of his son Abel, and of Noah,
  Of Moses the lawgiver, and the obedient
Abraham, patriarch, and David, king,
  Israel with his father and his children,
  And Rachel, for whose sake he did so much,
And others many, and he made them blessed;
  And thou must know, that earlier than these
  Never were any human spirits saved."
We ceased not to advance because he spake,
  But still were passing onward through the forest,
  The forest, say I, of thick-crowded ghosts.
Not very far as yet our way had gone
  This side the summit, when I saw a fire
  That overcame a hemisphere of darkness.
We were a little distant from it still,
  But not so far that I in part discerned not
  That honourable people held that place.
"O thou who honourest every art and science,
  Who may these be, which such great honour have,
  That from the fashion of the rest it parts them?"
And he to me: "The honourable name,
  That sounds of them above there in thy life,
  Wins grace in Heaven, that so advances them."
In the mean time a voice was heard by me:
  "All honour be to the pre-eminent Poet;
  His shade returns again, that was departed."
After the voice had ceased and quiet was,
  Four mighty shades I saw approaching us;
  Semblance had they nor sorrowful nor glad.
To say to me began my gracious Master:
  "Him with that falchion in his hand behold,
  Who comes before the three, even as their lord.
That one is Homer, Poet sovereign;
  He who comes next is Horace, the satirist;
  The third is Ovid, and the last is Lucan.
Because to each of these with me applies
  The name that solitary voice proclaimed,
  They do me honour, and in that do well."
Thus I beheld assemble the fair school
  Of that lord of the song pre-eminent,
  Who o'er the others like an eagle soars.
When they together had discoursed somewhat,
  They turned to me with signs of salutation,
  And on beholding this, my Master smiled;
And more of honour still, much more, they did me,
  In that they made me one of their own band;
  So that the sixth was I, 'mid so much wit.
Thus we went on as far as to the light,
  Things saying 'tis becoming to keep silent,
  As was the saying of them where I was.
We came unto a noble castle's foot,
  Seven times encompassed with lofty walls,
  Defended round by a fair rivulet;
This we passed over even as firm ground;
  Through portals seven I entered with these Sages;
  We came into a meadow of fresh verdure.
People were there with solemn eyes and slow,
  Of great authority in their countenance;
  They spake but seldom, and with gentle voices.
Thus we withdrew ourselves upon one side
  Into an opening luminous and lofty,
  So that they all of them were visible.
There opposite, upon the green enamel,
  Were pointed out to me the mighty spirits,
  Whom to have seen I feel myself exalted.
I saw Electra with companions many,
  'Mongst whom I knew both Hector and Aeneas,
  Caesar in armour with gerfalcon eyes;
I saw Camilla and Penthesilea
  On the other side, and saw the King Latinus,
  Who with Lavinia his daughter sat;
I saw that Brutus who drove Tarquin forth,
  Lucretia, Julia, Marcia, and Cornelia,
  And saw alone, apart, the Saladin.
When I had lifted up my brows a little,
  The Master I beheld of those who know,
  Sit with his philosophic family.
All gaze upon him, and all do him honour.
  There I beheld both Socrates and Plato,
  Who nearer him before the others stand;
Democritus, who puts the world on chance,
  Diogenes, Anaxagoras, and Thales,
  Zeno, Empedocles, and Heraclitus;
Of qualities I saw the good collector,
  Hight Dioscorides; and Orpheus saw I,
  Tully and Livy, and moral Seneca,
Euclid, geometrician, and Ptolemy,
  Galen, Hippocrates, and Avicenna,
  Averroes, who the great Comment made.
I cannot all of them pourtray in full,
  Because so drives me onward the long theme,
  That many times the word comes short of fact.
The sixfold company in two divides;
  Another way my sapient Guide conducts me
  Forth from the quiet to the air that trembles;
And to a place I come where nothing shines.
Inferno: Canto V
Thus I descended out of the first circle
  Down to the second, that less space begirds,
  And so much greater dole, that goads to wailing.
There standeth Minos horribly, and snarls;
  Examines the transgressions at the entrance;
  Judges, and sends according as he girds him.
I say, that when the spirit evil-born
  Cometh before him, wholly it confesses;
  And this discriminator of transgressions
Seeth what place in Hell is meet for it;
  Girds himself with his tail as many times
  As grades he wishes it should be thrust down.
Always before him many of them stand;
  They go by turns each one unto the judgment;
  They speak, and hear, and then are downward hurled.
"O thou, that to this dolorous hostelry
  Comest," said Minos to me, when he saw me,
  Leaving the practice of so great an office,
"Look how thou enterest, and in whom thou trustest;
  Let not the portal's amplitude deceive thee."
  And unto him my Guide: "Why criest thou too?
Do not impede his journey fate-ordained;
  It is so willed there where is power to do
  That which is willed; and ask no further question."
And now begin the dolesome notes to grow
  Audible unto me; now am I come
  There where much lamentation strikes upon me.
I came into a place mute of all light,
  Which bellows as the sea does in a tempest,
  If by opposing winds 't is combated.
The infernal hurricane that never rests
  Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine;
  Whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them.
When they arrive before the precipice,
  There are the shrieks, the plaints, and the laments,
  There they blaspheme the puissance divine.
I understood that unto such a torment
  The carnal malefactors were condemned,
  Who reason subjugate to appetite.
And as the wings of starlings bear them on
  In the cold season in large band and full,
  So doth that blast the spirits maledict;
It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them;
  No hope doth comfort them for evermore,
  Not of repose, but even of lesser pain.
And as the cranes go chanting forth their lays,
  Making in air a long line of themselves,
  So saw I coming, uttering lamentations,
Shadows borne onward by the aforesaid stress.
  Whereupon said I: "Master, who are those
  People, whom the black air so castigates?"
"The first of those, of whom intelligence
  Thou fain wouldst have," then said he unto me,
  "The empress was of many languages.
To sensual vices she was so abandoned,
  That lustful she made licit in her law,
  To remove the blame to which she had been led.
She is Semiramis, of whom we read
  That she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse;
  She held the land which now the Sultan rules.
The next is she who killed herself for love,
  And broke faith with the ashes of Sichaeus;
  Then Cleopatra the voluptuous."
Helen I saw, for whom so many ruthless
  Seasons revolved; and saw the great Achilles,
  Who at the last hour combated with Love.
Paris I saw, Tristan; and more than a thousand
  Shades did he name and point out with his finger,
  Whom Love had separated from our life.
After that I had listened to my Teacher,
  Naming the dames of eld and cavaliers,
  Pity prevailed, and I was nigh bewildered.
And I began: "O Poet, willingly
  Speak would I to those two, who go together,
  And seem upon the wind to be so light."
And, he to me: "Thou'lt mark, when they shall be
  Nearer to us; and then do thou implore them
  By love which leadeth them, and they will come."
Soon as the wind in our direction sways them,
  My voice uplift I: "O ye weary souls!
  Come speak to us, if no one interdicts it."
As turtle-doves, called onward by desire,
  With open and steady wings to the sweet nest
  Fly through the air by their volition borne,
So came they from the band where Dido is,
  Approaching us athwart the air malign,
  So strong was the affectionate appeal.
"O living creature gracious and benignant,
  Who visiting goest through the purple air
  Us, who have stained the world incarnadine,
If were the King of the Universe our friend,
  We would pray unto him to give thee peace,
  Since thou hast pity on our woe perverse.
Of what it pleases thee to hear and speak,
  That will we hear, and we will speak to you,
  While silent is the wind, as it is now.
Sitteth the city, wherein I was born,
  Upon the sea-shore where the Po descends
  To rest in peace with all his retinue.
Love, that on gentle heart doth swiftly seize,
  Seized this man for the person beautiful
  That was ta'en from me, and still the mode offends me.
Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving,
  Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly,
  That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me;
Love has conducted us unto one death;
  Caina waiteth him who quenched our life!"
  These words were borne along from them to us.
As soon as I had heard those souls tormented,
  I bowed my face, and so long held it down
  Until the Poet said to me: "What thinkest?"
When I made answer, I began: "Alas!
  How many pleasant thoughts, how much desire,
  Conducted these unto the dolorous pass!"
Then unto them I turned me, and I spake,
  And I began: "Thine agonies, Francesca,
  Sad and compassionate to weeping make me.
But tell me, at the time of those sweet sighs,
  By what and in what manner Love conceded,
  That you should know your dubious desires?"
And she to me: "There is no greater sorrow
  Than to be mindful of the happy time
  In misery, and that thy Teacher knows.
But, if to recognise the earliest root
  Of love in us thou hast so great desire,
  I will do even as he who weeps and speaks.
One day we reading were for our delight
  Of Launcelot, how Love did him enthral.
  Alone we were and without any fear.
Full many a time our eyes together drew
  That reading, and drove the colour from our faces;
  But one point only was it that o'ercame us.
When as we read of the much-longed-for smile
  Being by such a noble lover kissed,
  This one, who ne'er from me shall be divided,
Kissed me upon the mouth all palpitating.
  Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it.
  That day no farther did we read therein."
And all the while one spirit uttered this,
  The other one did weep so, that, for pity,
  I swooned away as if I had been dying,
And fell, even as a dead body falls.
Inferno: Canto VI
At the return of consciousness, that closed
  Before the pity of those two relations,
  Which utterly with sadness had confused me,
New torments I behold, and new tormented
  Around me, whichsoever way I move,
  And whichsoever way I turn, and gaze.
In the third circle am I of the rain
  Eternal, maledict, and cold, and heavy;
  Its law and quality are never new.
Huge hail, and water sombre-hued, and snow,
  Athwart the tenebrous air pour down amain;
  Noisome the earth is, that receiveth this.
Cerberus, monster cruel and uncouth,
  With his three gullets like a dog is barking
  Over the people that are there submerged.
Red eyes he has, and unctuous beard and black,
  And belly large, and armed with claws his hands;
  He rends the spirits, flays, and quarters them.
Howl the rain maketh them like unto dogs;
  One side they make a shelter for the other;
  Oft turn themselves the wretched reprobates.
When Cerberus perceived us, the great worm!
   His mouths he opened, and displayed his tusks;
   Not a limb had he that was motionless.
And my Conductor, with his spans extended,
  Took of the earth, and with his fists well filled,
  He threw it into those rapacious gullets.
Such as that dog is, who by barking craves,
  And quiet grows soon as his food he gnaws,
  For to devour it he but thinks and struggles,
The like became those muzzles filth-begrimed
  Of Cerberus the demon, who so thunders
  Over the souls that they would fain be deaf.
We passed across the shadows, which subdues
  The heavy rain-storm, and we placed our feet
  Upon their vanity that person seems.
They all were lying prone upon the earth,
  Excepting one, who sat upright as soon
  As he beheld us passing on before him.
"O thou that art conducted through this Hell,"
  He said to me, "recall me, if thou canst;
  Thyself wast made before I was unmade."
And I to him: "The anguish which thou hast
  Perhaps doth draw thee out of my remembrance,
  So that it seems not I have ever seen thee.
But tell me who thou art, that in so doleful
  A place art put, and in such punishment,
  If some are greater, none is so displeasing."
And he to me: "Thy city, which is full
  Of envy so that now the sack runs over,
  Held me within it in the life serene.
You citizens were wont to call me Ciacco;
  For the pernicious sin of gluttony
  I, as thou seest, am battered by this rain.
And I, sad soul, am not the only one,
  For all these suffer the like penalty
  For the like sin;" and word no more spake he.
I answered him: "Ciacco, thy wretchedness
  Weighs on me so that it to weep invites me;
  But tell me, if thou knowest, to what shall come
The citizens of the divided city;
  If any there be just; and the occasion
  Tell me why so much discord has assailed it."
And he to me: "They, after long contention,
  Will come to bloodshed; and the rustic party
  Will drive the other out with much offence.
Then afterwards behoves it this one fall
  Within three suns, and rise again the other
  By force of him who now is on the coast.
High will it hold its forehead a long while,
  Keeping the other under heavy burdens,
  Howe'er it weeps thereat and is indignant.
The just are two, and are not understood there;
  Envy and Arrogance and Avarice
  Are the three sparks that have all hearts enkindled."
Here ended he his tearful utterance;
  And I to him: "I wish thee still to teach me,
  And make a gift to me of further speech.
Farinata and Tegghiaio, once so worthy,
  Jacopo Rusticucci, Arrigo, and Mosca,
  And others who on good deeds set their thoughts,
Say where they are, and cause that I may know them;
  For great desire constraineth me to learn
  If Heaven doth sweeten them, or Hell envenom."
And he: "They are among the blacker souls;
  A different sin downweighs them to the bottom;
  If thou so far descendest, thou canst see them.
But when thou art again in the sweet world,
  I pray thee to the mind of others bring me;
  No more I tell thee and no more I answer."
Then his straightforward eyes he turned askance,
  Eyed me a little, and then bowed his head;
  He fell therewith prone like the other blind.
And the Guide said to me: "He wakes no more
  This side the sound of the angelic trumpet;
  When shall approach the hostile Potentate,
Each one shall find again his dismal tomb,
  Shall reassume his flesh and his own figure,
  Shall hear what through eternity re-echoes."
So we passed onward o'er the filthy mixture
  Of shadows and of rain with footsteps slow,
  Touching a little on the future life.
Wherefore I said: "Master, these torments here,
  Will they increase after the mighty sentence,
  Or lesser be, or will they be as burning?"
And he to me: "Return unto thy science,
  Which wills, that as the thing more perfect is,
  The more it feels of pleasure and of pain.
Albeit that this people maledict
  To true perfection never can attain,
  Hereafter more than now they look to be."
Round in a circle by that road we went,
  Speaking much more, which I do not repeat;
  We came unto the point where the descent is;
There we found Plutus the great enemy.
Inferno: Canto VII
"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!"
  Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began;
  And that benignant Sage, who all things knew,
Said, to encourage me: "Let not thy fear
  Harm thee; for any power that he may have
  Shall not prevent thy going down this crag."
Then he turned round unto that bloated lip,
  And said: "Be silent, thou accursed wolf;
  Consume within thyself with thine own rage.
Not causeless is this journey to the abyss;
  Thus is it willed on high, where Michael wrought
  Vengeance upon the proud adultery."
Even as the sails inflated by the wind
  Involved together fall when snaps the mast,
  So fell the cruel monster to the earth.
Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,
  Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore
  Which all the woe of the universe insacks.
Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many
  New toils and sufferings as I beheld?
  And why doth our transgression waste us so?
As doth the billow there upon Charybdis,
  That breaks itself on that which it encounters,
  So here the folk must dance their roundelay.
Here saw I people, more than elsewhere, many,
  On one side and the other, with great howls,
  Rolling weights forward by main force of chest.
They clashed together, and then at that point
  Each one turned backward, rolling retrograde,
  Crying, "Why keepest?" and, "Why squanderest thou?"
Thus they returned along the lurid circle
  On either hand unto the opposite point,
  Shouting their shameful metre evermore.
Then each, when he arrived there, wheeled about
  Through his half-circle to another joust;
  And I, who had my heart pierced as it were,
Exclaimed: "My Master, now declare to me
  What people these are, and if all were clerks,
  These shaven crowns upon the left of us."
And he to me: "All of them were asquint
  In intellect in the first life, so much
  That there with measure they no spending made.
Clearly enough their voices bark it forth,
  Whene'er they reach the two points of the circle,
  Where sunders them the opposite defect.
Clerks those were who no hairy covering
  Have on the head, and Popes and Cardinals,
  In whom doth Avarice practise its excess."
And I: "My Master, among such as these
  I ought forsooth to recognise some few,
  Who were infected with these maladies."
And he to me: "Vain thought thou entertainest;
  The undiscerning life which made them sordid
  Now makes them unto all discernment dim.
Forever shall they come to these two buttings;
  These from the sepulchre shall rise again
  With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn.
Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world
  Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle;
  Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it.
Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce
  Of goods that are committed unto Fortune,
  For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
  Or ever has been, of these weary souls
  Could never make a single one repose."
"Master," I said to him, "now tell me also
  What is this Fortune which thou speakest of,
  That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"
And he to me: "O creatures imbecile,
  What ignorance is this which doth beset you?
  Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her.
He whose omniscience everything transcends
  The heavens created, and gave who should guide them,
  That every part to every part may shine,
Distributing the light in equal measure;
  He in like manner to the mundane splendours
  Ordained a general ministress and guide,
That she might change at times the empty treasures
  From race to race, from one blood to another,
  Beyond resistance of all human wisdom.
Therefore one people triumphs, and another
  Languishes, in pursuance of her judgment,
  Which hidden is, as in the grass a serpent.
Your knowledge has no counterstand against her;
  She makes provision, judges, and pursues
  Her governance, as theirs the other gods.
Her permutations have not any truce;
  Necessity makes her precipitate,
  So often cometh who his turn obtains.
And this is she who is so crucified
  Even by those who ought to give her praise,
  Giving her blame amiss, and bad repute.
But she is blissful, and she hears it not;
  Among the other primal creatures gladsome
  She turns her sphere, and blissful she rejoices.
Let us descend now unto greater woe;
  Already sinks each star that was ascending
  When I set out, and loitering is forbidden."
We crossed the circle to the other bank,
  Near to a fount that boils, and pours itself
  Along a gully that runs out of it.
The water was more sombre far than perse;
  And we, in company with the dusky waves,
  Made entrance downward by a path uncouth.
A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx,
  This tristful brooklet, when it has descended
  Down to the foot of the malign gray shores.
And I, who stood intent upon beholding,
  Saw people mud-besprent in that lagoon,
  All of them naked and with angry look.
They smote each other not alone with hands,
  But with the head and with the breast and feet,
  Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth.
Said the good Master: "Son, thou now beholdest
  The souls of those whom anger overcame;
  And likewise I would have thee know for certain
Beneath the water people are who sigh
  And make this water bubble at the surface,
  As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns.
Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were
  In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened,
  Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek;
Now we are sullen in this sable mire.'
  This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats,
  For with unbroken words they cannot say it."
Thus we went circling round the filthy fen
  A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp,
  With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire;
Unto the foot of a tower we came at last.
Inferno: Canto VIII
I say, continuing, that long before
  We to the foot of that high tower had come,
  Our eyes went upward to the summit of it,
By reason of two flamelets we saw placed there,
  And from afar another answer them,
  So far, that hardly could the eye attain it.
And, to the sea of all discernment turned,
  I said: "What sayeth this, and what respondeth
  That other fire? and who are they that made it?"
And he to me: "Across the turbid waves
  What is expected thou canst now discern,
  If reek of the morass conceal it not."
Cord never shot an arrow from itself
  That sped away athwart the air so swift,
  As I beheld a very little boat
Come o'er the water tow'rds us at that moment,
  Under the guidance of a single pilot,
  Who shouted, "Now art thou arrived, fell soul?"
"Phlegyas, Phlegyas, thou criest out in vain
  For this once," said my Lord; "thou shalt not have us
  Longer than in the passing of the slough."
As he who listens to some great deceit
  That has been done to him, and then resents it,
  Such became Phlegyas, in his gathered wrath.
My Guide descended down into the boat,
  And then he made me enter after him,
  And only when I entered seemed it laden.
Soon as the Guide and I were in the boat,
  The antique prow goes on its way, dividing
  More of the water than 'tis wont with others.
While we were running through the dead canal,
  Uprose in front of me one full of mire,
  And said, "Who 'rt thou that comest ere the hour?"
And I to him: "Although I come, I stay not;
  But who art thou that hast become so squalid?"
  "Thou seest that I am one who weeps," he answered.
And I to him: "With weeping and with wailing,
  Thou spirit maledict, do thou remain;
  For thee I know, though thou art all defiled."
Then stretched he both his hands unto the boat;
  Whereat my wary Master thrust him back,
  Saying, "Away there with the other dogs!"
Thereafter with his arms he clasped my neck;
  He kissed my face, and said: "Disdainful soul,
  Blessed be she who bore thee in her bosom.
That was an arrogant person in the world;
  Goodness is none, that decks his memory;
  So likewise here his shade is furious.
How many are esteemed great kings up there,
  Who here shall be like unto swine in mire,
  Leaving behind them horrible dispraises!"
And I: "My Master, much should I be pleased,
  If I could see him soused into this broth,
  Before we issue forth out of the lake."
And he to me: "Ere unto thee the shore
  Reveal itself, thou shalt be satisfied;
  Such a desire 'tis meet thou shouldst enjoy."
A little after that, I saw such havoc
  Made of him by the people of the mire,
  That still I praise and thank my God for it.
They all were shouting, "At Philippo Argenti!"
  And that exasperate spirit Florentine
  Turned round upon himself with his own teeth.
We left him there, and more of him I tell not;
  But on mine ears there smote a lamentation,
  Whence forward I intent unbar mine eyes.
And the good Master said: "Even now, my Son,
  The city draweth near whose name is Dis,
  With the grave citizens, with the great throng."
And I: "Its mosques already, Master, clearly
  Within there in the valley I discern
  Vermilion, as if issuing from the fire
They were."  And he to me: "The fire eternal
  That kindles them within makes them look red,
  As thou beholdest in this nether Hell."
Then we arrived within the moats profound,
  That circumvallate that disconsolate city;
  The walls appeared to me to be of iron.
Not without making first a circuit wide,
  We came unto a place where loud the pilot
  Cried out to us, "Debark, here is the entrance."
More than a thousand at the gates I saw
  Out of the Heavens rained down, who angrily
  Were saying, "Who is this that without death
Goes through the kingdom of the people dead?"
  And my sagacious Master made a sign
  Of wishing secretly to speak with them.
A little then they quelled their great disdain,
  And said: "Come thou alone, and he begone
  Who has so boldly entered these dominions.
Let him return alone by his mad road;
  Try, if he can; for thou shalt here remain,
  Who hast escorted him through such dark regions."
Think, Reader, if I was discomforted
  At utterance of the accursed words;
  For never to return here I believed.
"O my dear Guide, who more than seven times
  Hast rendered me security, and drawn me
  From imminent peril that before me stood,
Do not desert me," said I, "thus undone;
  And if the going farther be denied us,
  Let us retrace our steps together swiftly."
And that Lord, who had led me thitherward,
  Said unto me: "Fear not; because our passage
  None can take from us, it by Such is given.
But here await me, and thy weary spirit
  Comfort and nourish with a better hope;
  For in this nether world I will not leave thee."
So onward goes and there abandons me
  My Father sweet, and I remain in doubt,
  For No and Yes within my head contend.
I could not hear what he proposed to them;
  But with them there he did not linger long,
  Ere each within in rivalry ran back.
They closed the portals, those our adversaries,
  On my Lord's breast, who had remained without
  And turned to me with footsteps far between.
His eyes cast down, his forehead shorn had he
  Of all its boldness, and he said, with sighs,
  "Who has denied to me the dolesome houses?"
And unto me: "Thou, because I am angry,
  Fear not, for I will conquer in the trial,
  Whatever for defence within be planned.
This arrogance of theirs is nothing new;
  For once they used it at less secret gate,
  Which finds itself without a fastening still.
O'er it didst thou behold the dead inscription;
  And now this side of it descends the steep,
  Passing across the circles without escort,
One by whose means the city shall be opened."
Inferno: Canto IX
That hue which cowardice brought out on me,
  Beholding my Conductor backward turn,
  Sooner repressed within him his new colour.
He stopped attentive, like a man who listens,
  Because the eye could not conduct him far
  Through the black air, and through the heavy fog.
"Still it behoveth us to win the fight,"
  Began he; "Else. . .Such offered us herself. . .
  O how I long that some one here arrive!"
Well I perceived, as soon as the beginning
  He covered up with what came afterward,
  That they were words quite different from the first;
But none the less his saying gave me fear,
  Because I carried out the broken phrase,
  Perhaps to a worse meaning than he had.
"Into this bottom of the doleful conch
  Doth any e'er descend from the first grade,
  Which for its pain has only hope cut off?"
This question put I; and he answered me:
  "Seldom it comes to pass that one of us
  Maketh the journey upon which I go.
True is it, once before I here below
  Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho,
  Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies.
Naked of me short while the flesh had been,
  Before within that wall she made me enter,
  To bring a spirit from the circle of Judas;
That is the lowest region and the darkest,
  And farthest from the heaven which circles all.
  Well know I the way; therefore be reassured.
This fen, which a prodigious stench exhales,
  Encompasses about the city dolent,
  Where now we cannot enter without anger."
And more he said, but not in mind I have it;
  Because mine eye had altogether drawn me
  Tow'rds the high tower with the red-flaming summit,
Where in a moment saw I swift uprisen
  The three infernal Furies stained with blood,
  Who had the limbs of women and their mien,
And with the greenest hydras were begirt;
  Small serpents and cerastes were their tresses,
  Wherewith their horrid temples were entwined.
And he who well the handmaids of the Queen
  Of everlasting lamentation knew,
  Said unto me: "Behold the fierce Erinnys.
This is Megaera, on the left-hand side;
  She who is weeping on the right, Alecto;
  Tisiphone is between;" and then was silent.
Each one her breast was rending with her nails;
  They beat them with their palms, and cried so loud,
  That I for dread pressed close unto the Poet.
"Medusa come, so we to stone will change him!"
  All shouted looking down; "in evil hour
  Avenged we not on Theseus his assault!"
"Turn thyself round, and keep thine eyes close shut,
  For if the Gorgon appear, and thou shouldst see it,
  No more returning upward would there be."
Thus said the Master; and he turned me round
  Himself, and trusted not unto my hands
  So far as not to blind me with his own.
O ye who have undistempered intellects,
  Observe the doctrine that conceals itself
  Beneath the veil of the mysterious verses!
And now there came across the turbid waves
  The clangour of a sound with terror fraught,
  Because of which both of the margins trembled;
Not otherwise it was than of a wind
  Impetuous on account of adverse heats,
  That smites the forest, and, without restraint,
The branches rends, beats down, and bears away;
  Right onward, laden with dust, it goes superb,
  And puts to flight the wild beasts and the shepherds.
Mine eyes he loosed, and said: "Direct the nerve
  Of vision now along that ancient foam,
  There yonder where that smoke is most intense."
Even as the frogs before the hostile serpent
  Across the water scatter all abroad,
  Until each one is huddled in the earth.
More than a thousand ruined souls I saw,
  Thus fleeing from before one who on foot
  Was passing o'er the Styx with soles unwet.
From off his face he fanned that unctuous air,
  Waving his left hand oft in front of him,
  And only with that anguish seemed he weary.
Well I perceived one sent from Heaven was he,
  And to the Master turned; and he made sign
  That I should quiet stand, and bow before him.
Ah! how disdainful he appeared to me!
  He reached the gate, and with a little rod
  He opened it, for there was no resistance.
"O banished out of Heaven, people despised!"
  Thus he began upon the horrid threshold;
  "Whence is this arrogance within you couched?
Wherefore recalcitrate against that will,
  From which the end can never be cut off,
  And which has many times increased your pain?
What helpeth it to butt against the fates?
  Your Cerberus, if you remember well,
  For that still bears his chin and gullet peeled."
Then he returned along the miry road,
  And spake no word to us, but had the look
  Of one whom other care constrains and goads
Than that of him who in his presence is;
  And we our feet directed tow'rds the city,
  After those holy words all confident.
Within we entered without any contest;
  And I, who inclination had to see
  What the condition such a fortress holds,
Soon as I was within, cast round mine eye,
  And see on every hand an ample plain,
  Full of distress and torment terrible.
Even as at Arles, where stagnant grows the Rhone,
  Even as at Pola near to the Quarnaro,
  That shuts in Italy and bathes its borders,
The sepulchres make all the place uneven;
  So likewise did they there on every side,
  Saving that there the manner was more bitter;
For flames between the sepulchres were scattered,
  By which they so intensely heated were,
  That iron more so asks not any art.
All of their coverings uplifted were,
  And from them issued forth such dire laments,
  Sooth seemed they of the wretched and tormented.
And I: "My Master, what are all those people
  Who, having sepulture within those tombs,
  Make themselves audible by doleful sighs?"
And he to me: "Here are the Heresiarchs,
  With their disciples of all sects, and much
  More than thou thinkest laden are the tombs.
Here like together with its like is buried;
  And more and less the monuments are heated."
  And when he to the right had turned, we passed
Between the torments and high parapets.
Inferno: Canto X
Now onward goes, along a narrow path
  Between the torments and the city wall,
  My Master, and I follow at his back.
"O power supreme, that through these impious circles
  Turnest me," I began, "as pleases thee,
  Speak to me, and my longings satisfy;
The people who are lying in these tombs,
  Might they be seen? already are uplifted
  The covers all, and no one keepeth guard."
And he to me: "They all will be closed up
  When from Jehoshaphat they shall return
  Here with the bodies they have left above.
Their cemetery have upon this side
  With Epicurus all his followers,
  Who with the body mortal make the soul;
But in the question thou dost put to me,
  Within here shalt thou soon be satisfied,
  And likewise in the wish thou keepest silent."
And I: "Good Leader, I but keep concealed
  From thee my heart, that I may speak the less,
  Nor only now hast thou thereto disposed me."
"O Tuscan, thou who through the city of fire
  Goest alive, thus speaking modestly,
  Be pleased to stay thy footsteps in this place.
Thy mode of speaking makes thee manifest
  A native of that noble fatherland,
  To which perhaps I too molestful was."
Upon a sudden issued forth this sound
  From out one of the tombs; wherefore I pressed,
  Fearing, a little nearer to my Leader.
And unto me he said: "Turn thee; what dost thou?
  Behold there Farinata who has risen;
  From the waist upwards wholly shalt thou see him."
I had already fixed mine eyes on his,
  And he uprose erect with breast and front
  E'en as if Hell he had in great despite.
And with courageous hands and prompt my Leader
  Thrust me between the sepulchres towards him,
  Exclaiming, "Let thy words explicit be."
As soon as I was at the foot of his tomb
  Somewhat he eyed me, and, as if disdainful,
  Then asked of me, "Who were thine ancestors?"
I, who desirous of obeying was,
  Concealed it not, but all revealed to him;
  Whereat he raised his brows a little upward.
Then said he: "Fiercely adverse have they been
  To me, and to my fathers, and my party;
  So that two several times I scattered them."
"If they were banished, they returned on all sides,"
  I answered him, "the first time and the second;
  But yours have not acquired that art aright."
Then there uprose upon the sight, uncovered
  Down to the chin, a shadow at his side;
  I think that he had risen on his knees.
Round me he gazed, as if solicitude
  He had to see if some one else were with me,
  But after his suspicion was all spent,
Weeping, he said to me: "If through this blind
  Prison thou goest by loftiness of genius,
  Where is my son? and why is he not with thee?"
And I to him: "I come not of myself;
  He who is waiting yonder leads me here,
  Whom in disdain perhaps your Guido had."
His language and the mode of punishment
  Already unto me had read his name;
  On that account my answer was so full.
Up starting suddenly, he cried out: "How
  Saidst thou,--he had?  Is he not still alive?
  Does not the sweet light strike upon his eyes?"
When he became aware of some delay,
  Which I before my answer made, supine
  He fell again, and forth appeared no more.
But the other, magnanimous, at whose desire
  I had remained, did not his aspect change,
  Neither his neck he moved, nor bent his side.
"And if," continuing his first discourse,
  "They have that art," he said, "not learned aright,
  That more tormenteth me, than doth this bed.
But fifty times shall not rekindled be
  The countenance of the Lady who reigns here,
  Ere thou shalt know how heavy is that art;
And as thou wouldst to the sweet world return,
  Say why that people is so pitiless
  Against my race in each one of its laws?"
Whence I to him: "The slaughter and great carnage
  Which have with crimson stained the Arbia, cause
  Such orisons in our temple to be made."
After his head he with a sigh had shaken,
  "There I was not alone," he said, "nor surely
  Without a cause had with the others moved.
But there I was alone, where every one
  Consented to the laying waste of Florence,
  He who defended her with open face."
"Ah! so hereafter may your seed repose,"
  I him entreated, "solve for me that knot,
  Which has entangled my conceptions here.
It seems that you can see, if I hear rightly,
  Beforehand whatsoe'er time brings with it,
  And in the present have another mode."
"We see, like those who have imperfect sight,
  The things," he said, "that distant are from us;
  So much still shines on us the Sovereign Ruler.
When they draw near, or are, is wholly vain
  Our intellect, and if none brings it to us,
  Not anything know we of your human state.
Hence thou canst understand, that wholly dead
  Will be our knowledge from the moment when
  The portal of the future shall be closed."
Then I, as if compunctious for my fault,
  Said: "Now, then, you will tell that fallen one,
  That still his son is with the living joined.
And if just now, in answering, I was dumb,
  Tell him I did it because I was thinking
  Already of the error you have solved me."
And now my Master was recalling me,
  Wherefore more eagerly I prayed the spirit
  That he would tell me who was with him there.
He said: "With more than a thousand here I lie;
  Within here is the second Frederick,
  And the Cardinal, and of the rest I speak not."
Thereon he hid himself; and I towards
  The ancient poet turned my steps, reflecting
  Upon that saying, which seemed hostile to me.
He moved along; and afterward thus going,
  He said to me, "Why art thou so bewildered?"
  And I in his inquiry satisfied him.
"Let memory preserve what thou hast heard
  Against thyself," that Sage commanded me,
  "And now attend here;" and he raised his finger.
"When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet
  Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold,
  From her thou'lt know the journey of thy life."
Unto the left hand then he turned his feet;
  We left the wall, and went towards the middle,
  Along a path that strikes into a valley,
Which even up there unpleasant made its stench.
Inferno: Canto XI
Upon the margin of a lofty bank
  Which great rocks broken in a circle made,
  We came upon a still more cruel throng;
And there, by reason of the horrible
  Excess of stench the deep abyss throws out,
  We drew ourselves aside behind the cover
Of a great tomb, whereon I saw a writing,
  Which said: "Pope Anastasius I hold,
  Whom out of the right way Photinus drew."
"Slow it behoveth our descent to be,
  So that the sense be first a little used
  To the sad blast, and then we shall not heed it."
The Master thus; and unto him I said,
  "Some compensation find, that the time pass not
  Idly;" and he: "Thou seest I think of that.
My son, upon the inside of these rocks,"
  Began he then to say, "are three small circles,
  From grade to grade, like those which thou art leaving.
They all are full of spirits maledict;
  But that hereafter sight alone suffice thee,
  Hear how and wherefore they are in constraint.
Of every malice that wins hate in Heaven,
  Injury is the end; and all such end
  Either by force or fraud afflicteth others.
But because fraud is man's peculiar vice,
  More it displeases God; and so stand lowest
  The fraudulent, and greater dole assails them.
All the first circle of the Violent is;
  But since force may be used against three persons,
  In three rounds 'tis divided and constructed.
To God, to ourselves, and to our neighbour can we
  Use force; I say on them and on their things,
  As thou shalt hear with reason manifest.
A death by violence, and painful wounds,
  Are to our neighbour given; and in his substance
  Ruin, and arson, and injurious levies;
Whence homicides, and he who smites unjustly,
  Marauders, and freebooters, the first round
  Tormenteth all in companies diverse.
Man may lay violent hands upon himself
  And his own goods; and therefore in the second
  Round must perforce without avail repent
Whoever of your world deprives himself,
  Who games, and dissipates his property,
  And weepeth there, where he should jocund be.
Violence can be done the Deity,
  In heart denying and blaspheming Him,
  And by disdaining Nature and her bounty.
And for this reason doth the smallest round
  Seal with its signet Sodom and Cahors,
  And who, disdaining God, speaks from the heart.
Fraud, wherewithal is every conscience stung,
  A man may practise upon him who trusts,
  And him who doth no confidence imburse.
This latter mode, it would appear, dissevers
  Only the bond of love which Nature makes;
  Wherefore within the second circle nestle
Hypocrisy, flattery, and who deals in magic,
  Falsification, theft, and simony,
  Panders, and barrators, and the like filth.
By the other mode, forgotten is that love
  Which Nature makes, and what is after added,
  From which there is a special faith engendered.
Hence in the smallest circle, where the point is
  Of the Universe, upon which Dis is seated,
  Whoe'er betrays for ever is consumed."
And I: "My Master, clear enough proceeds
  Thy reasoning, and full well distinguishes
  This cavern and the people who possess it.
But tell me, those within the fat lagoon,
  Whom the wind drives, and whom the rain doth beat,
  And who encounter with such bitter tongues,
Wherefore are they inside of the red city
  Not punished, if God has them in his wrath,
  And if he has not, wherefore in such fashion?"
And unto me he said: "Why wanders so
  Thine intellect from that which it is wont?
  Or, sooth, thy mind where is it elsewhere looking?
Hast thou no recollection of those words
  With which thine Ethics thoroughly discusses
  The dispositions three, that Heaven abides not,--
Incontinence, and Malice, and insane
  Bestiality? and how Incontinence
  Less God offendeth, and less blame attracts?
If thou regardest this conclusion well,
  And to thy mind recallest who they are
  That up outside are undergoing penance,
Clearly wilt thou perceive why from these felons
  They separated are, and why less wroth
  Justice divine doth smite them with its hammer."
"O Sun, that healest all distempered vision,
  Thou dost content me so, when thou resolvest,
  That doubting pleases me no less than knowing!
Once more a little backward turn thee," said I,
  "There where thou sayest that usury offends
  Goodness divine, and disengage the knot."
"Philosophy," he said, "to him who heeds it,
  Noteth, not only in one place alone,
  After what manner Nature takes her course
From Intellect Divine, and from its art;
  And if thy Physics carefully thou notest,
  After not many pages shalt thou find,
That this your art as far as possible
  Follows, as the disciple doth the master;
  So that your art is, as it were, God's grandchild.
From these two, if thou bringest to thy mind
  Genesis at the beginning, it behoves
  Mankind to gain their life and to advance;
And since the usurer takes another way,
  Nature herself and in her follower
  Disdains he, for elsewhere he puts his hope.
But follow, now, as I would fain go on,
  For quivering are the Fishes on the horizon,
  And the Wain wholly over Caurus lies,
And far beyond there we descend the crag."
Inferno: Canto XII
The place where to descend the bank we came
  Was alpine, and from what was there, moreover,
  Of such a kind that every eye would shun it.
Such as that ruin is which in the flank
  Smote, on this side of Trent, the Adige,
  Either by earthquake or by failing stay,
For from the mountain's top, from which it moved,
  Unto the plain the cliff is shattered so,
  Some path 'twould give to him who was above;
Even such was the descent of that ravine,
  And on the border of the broken chasm
  The infamy of Crete was stretched along,
Who was conceived in the fictitious cow;
  And when he us beheld, he bit himself,
  Even as one whom anger racks within.
My Sage towards him shouted: "Peradventure
  Thou think'st that here may be the Duke of Athens,
  Who in the world above brought death to thee?
Get thee gone, beast, for this one cometh not
  Instructed by thy sister, but he comes
  In order to behold your punishments."
As is that bull who breaks loose at the moment
  In which he has received the mortal blow,
  Who cannot walk, but staggers here and there,
The Minotaur beheld I do the like;
  And he, the wary, cried: "Run to the passage;
  While he wroth, 'tis well thou shouldst descend."
Thus down we took our way o'er that discharge
  Of stones, which oftentimes did move themselves
  Beneath my feet, from the unwonted burden.
Thoughtful I went; and he said: "Thou art thinking
  Perhaps upon this ruin, which is guarded
  By that brute anger which just now I quenched.
Now will I have thee know, the other time
  I here descended to the nether Hell,
  This precipice had not yet fallen down.
But truly, if I well discern, a little
  Before His coming who the mighty spoil
  Bore off from Dis, in the supernal circle,
Upon all sides the deep and loathsome valley
  Trembled so, that I thought the Universe
  Was thrilled with love, by which there are who think
The world ofttimes converted into chaos;
  And at that moment this primeval crag
  Both here and elsewhere made such overthrow.
But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near
  The river of blood, within which boiling is
  Whoe'er by violence doth injure others."
O blind cupidity, O wrath insane,
  That spurs us onward so in our short life,
  And in the eternal then so badly steeps us!
I saw an ample moat bent like a bow,
  As one which all the plain encompasses,
  Conformable to what my Guide had said.
And between this and the embankment's foot
  Centaurs in file were running, armed with arrows,
  As in the world they used the chase to follow.
Beholding us descend, each one stood still,
  And from the squadron three detached themselves,
  With bows and arrows in advance selected;
And from afar one cried: "Unto what torment
  Come ye, who down the hillside are descending?
  Tell us from there; if not, I draw the bow."
My Master said: "Our answer will we make
  To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour,
  That will of thine was evermore so hasty."
Then touched he me, and said: "This one is Nessus,
  Who perished for the lovely Dejanira,
  And for himself, himself did vengeance take.
And he in the midst, who at his breast is gazing,
  Is the great Chiron, who brought up Achilles;
  That other Pholus is, who was so wrathful.
Thousands and thousands go about the moat
  Shooting with shafts whatever soul emerges
  Out of the blood, more than his crime allots."
Near we approached unto those monsters fleet;
  Chiron an arrow took, and with the notch
  Backward upon his jaws he put his beard.
After he had uncovered his great mouth,
  He said to his companions: "Are you ware
  That he behind moveth whate'er he touches?
Thus are not wont to do the feet of dead men."
  And my good Guide, who now was at his breast,
  Where the two natures are together joined,
Replied: "Indeed he lives, and thus alone
  Me it behoves to show him the dark valley;
  Necessity, and not delight, impels us.
Some one withdrew from singing Halleluja,
  Who unto me committed this new office;
  No thief is he, nor I a thievish spirit.
But by that virtue through which I am moving
  My steps along this savage thoroughfare,
  Give us some one of thine, to be with us,
And who may show us where to pass the ford,
  And who may carry this one on his back;
  For 'tis no spirit that can walk the air."
Upon his right breast Chiron wheeled about,
  And said to Nessus: "Turn and do thou guide them,
  And warn aside, if other band may meet you."
We with our faithful escort onward moved
  Along the brink of the vermilion boiling,
  Wherein the boiled were uttering loud laments.
People I saw within up to the eyebrows,
  And the great Centaur said: "Tyrants are these,
  Who dealt in bloodshed and in pillaging.
Here they lament their pitiless mischiefs; here
  Is Alexander, and fierce Dionysius
  Who upon Sicily brought dolorous years.
That forehead there which has the hair so black
  Is Azzolin; and the other who is blond,
  Obizzo is of Esti, who, in truth,
Up in the world was by his stepson slain."
  Then turned I to the Poet; and he said,
  "Now he be first to thee, and second I."
A little farther on the Centaur stopped
  Above a folk, who far down as the throat
  Seemed from that boiling stream to issue forth.
A shade he showed us on one side alone,
  Saying: "He cleft asunder in God's bosom
  The heart that still upon the Thames is honoured."
Then people saw I, who from out the river
  Lifted their heads and also all the chest;
  And many among these I recognised.
Thus ever more and more grew shallower
  That blood, so that the feet alone it covered;
  And there across the moat our passage was.
"Even as thou here upon this side beholdest
  The boiling stream, that aye diminishes,"
  The Centaur said, "I wish thee to believe
That on this other more and more declines
  Its bed, until it reunites itself
  Where it behoveth tyranny to groan.
Justice divine, upon this side, is goading
  That Attila, who was a scourge on earth,
  And Pyrrhus, and Sextus; and for ever milks
The tears which with the boiling it unseals
  In Rinier da Corneto and Rinier Pazzo,
  Who made upon the highways so much war."
Then back he turned, and passed again the ford.
Inferno: Canto XIII
Not yet had Nessus reached the other side,
  When we had put ourselves within a wood,
  That was not marked by any path whatever.
Not foliage green, but of a dusky colour,
  Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled,
  Not apple-trees were there, but thorns with poison.
Such tangled thickets have not, nor so dense,
  Those savage wild beasts, that in hatred hold
  'Twixt Cecina and Corneto the tilled places.
There do the hideous Harpies make their nests,
  Who chased the Trojans from the Strophades,
  With sad announcement of impending doom;
Broad wings have they, and necks and faces human,
  And feet with claws, and their great bellies fledged;
  They make laments upon the wondrous trees.
And the good Master: "Ere thou enter farther,
  Know that thou art within the second round,"
  Thus he began to say, "and shalt be, till
Thou comest out upon the horrible sand;
  Therefore look well around, and thou shalt see
  Things that will credence give unto my speech."
I heard on all sides lamentations uttered,
  And person none beheld I who might make them,
  Whence, utterly bewildered, I stood still.
I think he thought that I perhaps might think
  So many voices issued through those trunks
  From people who concealed themselves from us;
Therefore the Master said: "If thou break off
  Some little spray from any of these trees,
  The thoughts thou hast will wholly be made vain."
Then stretched I forth my hand a little forward,
  And plucked a branchlet off from a great thorn;
  And the trunk cried, "Why dost thou mangle me?"
After it had become embrowned with blood,
  It recommenced its cry: "Why dost thou rend me?
  Hast thou no spirit of pity whatsoever?
Men once we were, and now are changed to trees;
  Indeed, thy hand should be more pitiful,
  Even if the souls of serpents we had been."
As out of a green brand, that is on fire
  At one of the ends, and from the other drips
  And hisses with the wind that is escaping;
So from that splinter issued forth together
  Both words and blood; whereat I let the tip
  Fall, and stood like a man who is afraid.
"Had he been able sooner to believe,"
  My Sage made answer, "O thou wounded soul,
  What only in my verses he has seen,
Not upon thee had he stretched forth his hand;
  Whereas the thing incredible has caused me
  To put him to an act which grieveth me.
But tell him who thou wast, so that by way
  Of some amends thy fame he may refresh
  Up in the world, to which he can return."
And the trunk said: "So thy sweet words allure me,
  I cannot silent be; and you be vexed not,
  That I a little to discourse am tempted.
I am the one who both keys had in keeping
  Of Frederick's heart, and turned them to and fro
  So softly in unlocking and in locking,
That from his secrets most men I withheld;
  Fidelity I bore the glorious office
  So great, I lost thereby my sleep and pulses.
The courtesan who never from the dwelling
  Of Caesar turned aside her strumpet eyes,
  Death universal and the vice of courts,
Inflamed against me all the other minds,
  And they, inflamed, did so inflame Augustus,
  That my glad honours turned to dismal mournings.
My spirit, in disdainful exultation,
  Thinking by dying to escape disdain,
  Made me unjust against myself, the just.
I, by the roots unwonted of this wood,
  Do swear to you that never broke I faith
  Unto my lord, who was so worthy of honour;
And to the world if one of you return,
  Let him my memory comfort, which is lying
  Still prostrate from the blow that envy dealt it."
Waited awhile, and then: "Since he is silent,"
  The Poet said to me, "lose not the time,
  But speak, and question him, if more may please thee."
Whence I to him: "Do thou again inquire
  Concerning what thou thinks't will satisfy me;
  For I cannot, such pity is in my heart."
Therefore he recommenced: "So may the man
  Do for thee freely what thy speech implores,
  Spirit incarcerate, again be pleased
To tell us in what way the soul is bound
  Within these knots; and tell us, if thou canst,
  If any from such members e'er is freed."
Then blew the trunk amain, and afterward
  The wind was into such a voice converted:
  "With brevity shall be replied to you.
When the exasperated soul abandons
  The body whence it rent itself away,
  Minos consigns it to the seventh abyss.
It falls into the forest, and no part
  Is chosen for it; but where Fortune hurls it,
  There like a grain of spelt it germinates.
It springs a sapling, and a forest tree;
  The Harpies, feeding then upon its leaves,
  Do pain create, and for the pain an outlet.
Like others for our spoils shall we return;
  But not that any one may them revest,
  For 'tis not just to have what one casts off.
Here we shall drag them, and along the dismal
  Forest our bodies shall suspended be,
  Each to the thorn of his molested shade."
We were attentive still unto the trunk,
  Thinking that more it yet might wish to tell us,
  When by a tumult we were overtaken,
In the same way as he is who perceives
  The boar and chase approaching to his stand,
  Who hears the crashing of the beasts and branches;
And two behold! upon our left-hand side,
  Naked and scratched, fleeing so furiously,
  That of the forest, every fan they broke.
He who was in advance: "Now help, Death, help!"
  And the other one, who seemed to lag too much,
  Was shouting: "Lano, were not so alert
Those legs of thine at joustings of the Toppo!"
  And then, perchance because his breath was failing,
  He grouped himself together with a bush.
Behind them was the forest full of black
  She-mastiffs, ravenous, and swift of foot
  As greyhounds, who are issuing from the chain.
On him who had crouched down they set their teeth,
  And him they lacerated piece by piece,
  Thereafter bore away those aching members.
Thereat my Escort took me by the hand,
  And led me to the bush, that all in vain
  Was weeping from its bloody lacerations.
"O Jacopo," it said, "of Sant' Andrea,
  What helped it thee of me to make a screen?
  What blame have I in thy nefarious life?"
When near him had the Master stayed his steps,
  He said: "Who wast thou, that through wounds so many
  Art blowing out with blood thy dolorous speech?"
And he to us: "O souls, that hither come
  To look upon the shameful massacre
  That has so rent away from me my leaves,
Gather them up beneath the dismal bush;
  I of that city was which to the Baptist
  Changed its first patron, wherefore he for this
Forever with his art will make it sad.
  And were it not that on the pass of Arno
  Some glimpses of him are remaining still,
Those citizens, who afterwards rebuilt it
  Upon the ashes left by Attila,
  In vain had caused their labour to be done.
Of my own house I made myself a gibbet."
Inferno: Canto XIV
Because the charity of my native place
  Constrained me, gathered I the scattered leaves,
  And gave them back to him, who now was hoarse.
Then came we to the confine, where disparted
  The second round is from the third, and where
  A horrible form of Justice is beheld.
Clearly to manifest these novel things,
  I say that we arrived upon a plain,
  Which from its bed rejecteth every plant;
The dolorous forest is a garland to it
  All round about, as the sad moat to that;
  There close upon the edge we stayed our feet.
The soil was of an arid and thick sand,
  Not of another fashion made than that
  Which by the feet of Cato once was pressed.
Vengeance of God, O how much oughtest thou
  By each one to be dreaded, who doth read
  That which was manifest unto mine eyes!
Of naked souls beheld I many herds,
  Who all were weeping very miserably,
  And over them seemed set a law diverse.
Supine upon the ground some folk were lying;
  And some were sitting all drawn up together,
  And others went about continually.
Those who were going round were far the more,
  And those were less who lay down to their torment,
  But had their tongues more loosed to lamentation.
O'er all the sand-waste, with a gradual fall,
  Were raining down dilated flakes of fire,
  As of the snow on Alp without a wind.
As Alexander, in those torrid parts
  Of India, beheld upon his host
  Flames fall unbroken till they reached the ground.
Whence he provided with his phalanxes
  To trample down the soil, because the vapour
  Better extinguished was while it was single;
Thus was descending the eternal heat,
  Whereby the sand was set on fire, like tinder
  Beneath the steel, for doubling of the dole.
Without repose forever was the dance
  Of miserable hands, now there, now here,
  Shaking away from off them the fresh gleeds.
"Master," began I, "thou who overcomest
  All things except the demons dire, that issued
  Against us at the entrance of the gate,
Who is that mighty one who seems to heed not
  The fire, and lieth lowering and disdainful,
  So that the rain seems not to ripen him?"
And he himself, who had become aware
  That I was questioning my Guide about him,
  Cried: "Such as I was living, am I, dead.
If Jove should weary out his smith, from whom
  He seized in anger the sharp thunderbolt,
  Wherewith upon the last day I was smitten,
And if he wearied out by turns the others
  In Mongibello at the swarthy forge,
  Vociferating, 'Help, good Vulcan, help!'
Even as he did there at the fight of Phlegra,
  And shot his bolts at me with all his might,
  He would not have thereby a joyous vengeance."
Then did my Leader speak with such great force,
  That I had never heard him speak so loud:
  "O Capaneus, in that is not extinguished
Thine arrogance, thou punished art the more;
  Not any torment, saving thine own rage,
  Would be unto thy fury pain complete."
Then he turned round to me with better lip,
  Saying: "One of the Seven Kings was he
  Who Thebes besieged, and held, and seems to hold
God in disdain, and little seems to prize him;
  But, as I said to him, his own despites
  Are for his breast the fittest ornaments.
Now follow me, and mind thou do not place
  As yet thy feet upon the burning sand,
  But always keep them close unto the wood."
Speaking no word, we came to where there gushes
  Forth from the wood a little rivulet,
  Whose redness makes my hair still stand on end.
As from the Bulicame springs the brooklet,
  The sinful women later share among them,
  So downward through the sand it went its way.
The bottom of it, and both sloping banks,
  Were made of stone, and the margins at the side;
  Whence I perceived that there the passage was.
"In all the rest which I have shown to thee
  Since we have entered in within the gate
  Whose threshold unto no one is denied,
Nothing has been discovered by thine eyes
  So notable as is the present river,
  Which all the little flames above it quenches."
These words were of my Leader; whence I prayed him
  That he would give me largess of the food,
  For which he had given me largess of desire.
"In the mid-sea there sits a wasted land,"
  Said he thereafterward, "whose name is Crete,
  Under whose king the world of old was chaste.
There is a mountain there, that once was glad
  With waters and with leaves, which was called Ida;
  Now 'tis deserted, as a thing worn out.
Rhea once chose it for the faithful cradle
  Of her own son; and to conceal him better,
  Whene'er he cried, she there had clamours made.
A grand old man stands in the mount erect,
  Who holds his shoulders turned tow'rds Damietta,
  And looks at Rome as if it were his mirror.
His head is fashioned of refined gold,
  And of pure silver are the arms and breast;
  Then he is brass as far down as the fork.
From that point downward all is chosen iron,
  Save that the right foot is of kiln-baked clay,
  And more he stands on that than on the other.
Each part, except the gold, is by a fissure
  Asunder cleft, that dripping is with tears,
  Which gathered together perforate that cavern.
From rock to rock they fall into this valley;
  Acheron, Styx, and Phlegethon they form;
  Then downward go along this narrow sluice
Unto that point where is no more descending.
  They form Cocytus; what that pool may be
  Thou shalt behold, so here 'tis not narrated."
And I to him: "If so the present runnel
  Doth take its rise in this way from our world,
  Why only on this verge appears it to us?"
And he to me: "Thou knowest the place is round,
  And notwithstanding thou hast journeyed far,
  Still to the left descending to the bottom,
Thou hast not yet through all the circle turned.
  Therefore if something new appear to us,
  It should not bring amazement to thy face."
And I again: "Master, where shall be found
  Lethe and Phlegethon, for of one thou'rt silent,
  And sayest the other of this rain is made?"
"In all thy questions truly thou dost please me,"
  Replied he; "but the boiling of the red
  Water might well solve one of them thou makest.
Thou shalt see Lethe, but outside this moat,
  There where the souls repair to lave themselves,
  When sin repented of has been removed."
Then said he: "It is time now to abandon
  The wood; take heed that thou come after me;
  A way the margins make that are not burning,
And over them all vapours are extinguished."
Inferno: Canto XV
Now bears us onward one of the hard margins,
  And so the brooklet's mist o'ershadows it,
  From fire it saves the water and the dikes.
Even as the Flemings, 'twixt Cadsand and Bruges,
  Fearing the flood that tow'rds them hurls itself,
  Their bulwarks build to put the sea to flight;
And as the Paduans along the Brenta,
  To guard their villas and their villages,
  Or ever Chiarentana feel the heat;
In such similitude had those been made,
  Albeit not so lofty nor so thick,
  Whoever he might be, the master made them.
Now were we from the forest so remote,
  I could not have discovered where it was,
  Even if backward I had turned myself,
When we a company of souls encountered,
  Who came beside the dike, and every one
  Gazed at us, as at evening we are wont
To eye each other under a new moon,
  And so towards us sharpened they their brows
  As an old tailor at the needle's eye.
Thus scrutinised by such a family,
  By some one I was recognised, who seized
  My garment's hem, and cried out, "What a marvel!"
And I, when he stretched forth his arm to me,
  On his baked aspect fastened so mine eyes,
  That the scorched countenance prevented not
His recognition by my intellect;
  And bowing down my face unto his own,
  I made reply, "Are you here, Ser Brunetto?"
And he: "May't not displease thee, O my son,
  If a brief space with thee Brunetto Latini
  Backward return and let the trail go on."
I said to him: "With all my power I ask it;
  And if you wish me to sit down with you,
  I will, if he please, for I go with him."
"O son," he said, "whoever of this herd
  A moment stops, lies then a hundred years,
  Nor fans himself when smiteth him the fire.
Therefore go on; I at thy skirts will come,
  And afterward will I rejoin my band,
  Which goes lamenting its eternal doom."
I did not dare to go down from the road
  Level to walk with him; but my head bowed
  I held as one who goeth reverently.
And he began: "What fortune or what fate
  Before the last day leadeth thee down here?
  And who is this that showeth thee the way?"
"Up there above us in the life serene,"
  I answered him, "I lost me in a valley,
  Or ever yet my age had been completed.
But yestermorn I turned my back upon it;
  This one appeared to me, returning thither,
  And homeward leadeth me along this road."
And he to me: "If thou thy star do follow,
  Thou canst not fail thee of a glorious port,
  If well I judged in the life beautiful.
And if I had not died so prematurely,
  Seeing Heaven thus benignant unto thee,
  I would have given thee comfort in the work.
But that ungrateful and malignant people,
  Which of old time from Fesole descended,
  And smacks still of the mountain and the granite,
Will make itself, for thy good deeds, thy foe;
  And it is right; for among crabbed sorbs
  It ill befits the sweet fig to bear fruit.
Old rumour in the world proclaims them blind;
  A people avaricious, envious, proud;
  Take heed that of their customs thou do cleanse thee.
Thy fortune so much honour doth reserve thee,
  One party and the other shall be hungry
  For thee; but far from goat shall be the grass.
Their litter let the beasts of Fesole
  Make of themselves, nor let them touch the plant,
  If any still upon their dunghill rise,
In which may yet revive the consecrated
  Seed of those Romans, who remained there when
  The nest of such great malice it became."
"If my entreaty wholly were fulfilled,"
  Replied I to him, "not yet would you be
  In banishment from human nature placed;
For in my mind is fixed, and touches now
  My heart the dear and good paternal image
  Of you, when in the world from hour to hour
You taught me how a man becomes eternal;
  And how much I am grateful, while I live
  Behoves that in my language be discerned.
What you narrate of my career I write,
  And keep it to be glossed with other text
  By a Lady who can do it, if I reach her.
This much will I have manifest to you;
  Provided that my conscience do not chide me,
  For whatsoever Fortune I am ready.
Such handsel is not new unto mine ears;
  Therefore let Fortune turn her wheel around
  As it may please her, and the churl his mattock."
My Master thereupon on his right cheek
  Did backward turn himself, and looked at me;
  Then said: "He listeneth well who noteth it."
Nor speaking less on that account, I go
  With Ser Brunetto, and I ask who are
  His most known and most eminent companions.
And he to me: "To know of some is well;
  Of others it were laudable to be silent,
  For short would be the time for so much speech.
Know them in sum, that all of them were clerks,
  And men of letters great and of great fame,
  In the world tainted with the selfsame sin.
Priscian goes yonder with that wretched crowd,
  And Francis of Accorso; and thou hadst seen there
  If thou hadst had a hankering for such scurf,
That one, who by the Servant of the Servants
  From Arno was transferred to Bacchiglione,
  Where he has left his sin-excited nerves.
More would I say, but coming and discoursing
  Can be no longer; for that I behold
  New smoke uprising yonder from the sand.
A people comes with whom I may not be;
  Commended unto thee be my Tesoro,
  In which I still live, and no more I ask."
Then he turned round, and seemed to be of those
  Who at Verona run for the Green Mantle
  Across the plain; and seemed to be among them
The one who wins, and not the one who loses.
Inferno: Canto XVI
Now was I where was heard the reverberation
  Of water falling into the next round,
  Like to that humming which the beehives make,
When shadows three together started forth,
  Running, from out a company that passed
  Beneath the rain of the sharp martyrdom.
Towards us came they, and each one cried out:
  "Stop, thou; for by thy garb to us thou seemest
  To be some one of our depraved city."
Ah me! what wounds I saw upon their limbs,
  Recent and ancient by the flames burnt in!
  It pains me still but to remember it.
Unto their cries my Teacher paused attentive;
  He turned his face towards me, and "Now wait,"
  He said; "to these we should be courteous.
And if it were not for the fire that darts
  The nature of this region, I should say
  That haste were more becoming thee than them."
As soon as we stood still, they recommenced
  The old refrain, and when they overtook us,
  Formed of themselves a wheel, all three of them.
As champions stripped and oiled are wont to do,
  Watching for their advantage and their hold,
  Before they come to blows and thrusts between them,
Thus, wheeling round, did every one his visage
  Direct to me, so that in opposite wise
  His neck and feet continual journey made.
And, "If the misery of this soft place
  Bring in disdain ourselves and our entreaties,"
  Began one, "and our aspect black and blistered,
Let the renown of us thy mind incline
  To tell us who thou art, who thus securely
  Thy living feet dost move along through Hell.
He in whose footprints thou dost see me treading,
  Naked and skinless though he now may go,
  Was of a greater rank than thou dost think;
He was the grandson of the good Gualdrada;
  His name was Guidoguerra, and in life
  Much did he with his wisdom and his sword.
The other, who close by me treads the sand,
  Tegghiaio Aldobrandi is, whose fame
  Above there in the world should welcome be.
And I, who with them on the cross am placed,
  Jacopo Rusticucci was; and truly
  My savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me."
Could I have been protected from the fire,
  Below I should have thrown myself among them,
  And think the Teacher would have suffered it;
But as I should have burned and baked myself,
  My terror overmastered my good will,
  Which made me greedy of embracing them.
Then I began: "Sorrow and not disdain
  Did your condition fix within me so,
  That tardily it wholly is stripped off,
As soon as this my Lord said unto me
  Words, on account of which I thought within me
  That people such as you are were approaching.
I of your city am; and evermore
  Your labours and your honourable names
  I with affection have retraced and heard.
I leave the gall, and go for the sweet fruits
  Promised to me by the veracious Leader;
  But to the centre first I needs must plunge."
"So may the soul for a long while conduct
  Those limbs of thine," did he make answer then,
  "And so may thy renown shine after thee,
Valour and courtesy, say if they dwell
  Within our city, as they used to do,
  Or if they wholly have gone out of it;
For Guglielmo Borsier, who is in torment
  With us of late, and goes there with his comrades,
  Doth greatly mortify us with his words."
"The new inhabitants and the sudden gains,
  Pride and extravagance have in thee engendered,
  Florence, so that thou weep'st thereat already!"
In this wise I exclaimed with face uplifted;
  And the three, taking that for my reply,
  Looked at each other, as one looks at truth.
"If other times so little it doth cost thee,"
  Replied they all, "to satisfy another,
  Happy art thou, thus speaking at thy will!
Therefore, if thou escape from these dark places,
  And come to rebehold the beauteous stars,
  When it shall pleasure thee to say, 'I was,'
See that thou speak of us unto the people."
  Then they broke up the wheel, and in their flight
  It seemed as if their agile legs were wings.
Not an Amen could possibly be said
  So rapidly as they had disappeared;
  Wherefore the Master deemed best to depart.
I followed him, and little had we gone,
  Before the sound of water was so near us,
  That speaking we should hardly have been heard.
Even as that stream which holdeth its own course
  The first from Monte Veso tow'rds the East,
  Upon the left-hand slope of Apennine,
Which is above called Acquacheta, ere
  It down descendeth into its low bed,
  And at Forli is vacant of that name,
Reverberates there above San Benedetto
  From Alps, by falling at a single leap,
  Where for a thousand there were room enough;
Thus downward from a bank precipitate,
  We found resounding that dark-tinted water,
  So that it soon the ear would have offended.
I had a cord around about me girt,
  And therewithal I whilom had designed
  To take the panther with the painted skin.
After I this had all from me unloosed,
  As my Conductor had commanded me,
  I reached it to him, gathered up and coiled,
Whereat he turned himself to the right side,
  And at a little distance from the verge,
  He cast it down into that deep abyss.
"It must needs be some novelty respond,"
  I said within myself, "to the new signal
  The Master with his eye is following so."
Ah me! how very cautious men should be
  With those who not alone behold the act,
  But with their wisdom look into the thoughts!
He said to me: "Soon there will upward come
  What I await; and what thy thought is dreaming
  Must soon reveal itself unto thy sight."
Aye to that truth which has the face of falsehood,
  A man should close his lips as far as may be,
  Because without his fault it causes shame;
But here I cannot; and, Reader, by the notes
  Of this my Comedy to thee I swear,
  So may they not be void of lasting favour,
Athwart that dense and darksome atmosphere
  I saw a figure swimming upward come,
  Marvellous unto every steadfast heart,
Even as he returns who goeth down
  Sometimes to clear an anchor, which has grappled
  Reef, or aught else that in the sea is hidden,
Who upward stretches, and draws in his feet.
Inferno: Canto XVII
"Behold the monster with the pointed tail,
  Who cleaves the hills, and breaketh walls and weapons,
  Behold him who infecteth all the world."
Thus unto me my Guide began to say,
  And beckoned him that he should come to shore,
  Near to the confine of the trodden marble;
And that uncleanly image of deceit
  Came up and thrust ashore its head and bust,
  But on the border did not drag its tail.
The face was as the face of a just man,
  Its semblance outwardly was so benign,
  And of a serpent all the trunk beside.
Two paws it had, hairy unto the armpits;
  The back, and breast, and both the sides it had
  Depicted o'er with nooses and with shields.
With colours more, groundwork or broidery
  Never in cloth did Tartars make nor Turks,
  Nor were such tissues by Arachne laid.
As sometimes wherries lie upon the shore,
  That part are in the water, part on land;
  And as among the guzzling Germans there,
The beaver plants himself to wage his war;
  So that vile monster lay upon the border,
  Which is of stone, and shutteth in the sand.
His tail was wholly quivering in the void,
  Contorting upwards the envenomed fork,
  That in the guise of scorpion armed its point.
The Guide said: "Now perforce must turn aside
  Our way a little, even to that beast
  Malevolent, that yonder coucheth him."
We therefore on the right side descended,
  And made ten steps upon the outer verge,
  Completely to avoid the sand and flame;
And after we are come to him, I see
  A little farther off upon the sand
  A people sitting near the hollow place.
Then said to me the Master: "So that full
  Experience of this round thou bear away,
  Now go and see what their condition is.
There let thy conversation be concise;
  Till thou returnest I will speak with him,
  That he concede to us his stalwart shoulders."
Thus farther still upon the outermost
  Head of that seventh circle all alone
  I went, where sat the melancholy folk.
Out of their eyes was gushing forth their woe;
  This way, that way, they helped them with their hands
  Now from the flames and now from the hot soil.
Not otherwise in summer do the dogs,
  Now with the foot, now with the muzzle, when
  By fleas, or flies, or gadflies, they are bitten.
When I had turned mine eyes upon the faces
  Of some, on whom the dolorous fire is falling,
  Not one of them I knew; but I perceived
That from the neck of each there hung a pouch,
  Which certain colour had, and certain blazon;
  And thereupon it seems their eyes are feeding.
And as I gazing round me come among them,
  Upon a yellow pouch I azure saw
  That had the face and posture of a lion.
Proceeding then the current of my sight,
  Another of them saw I, red as blood,
  Display a goose more white than butter is.
And one, who with an azure sow and gravid
  Emblazoned had his little pouch of white,
  Said unto me: "What dost thou in this moat?
Now get thee gone; and since thou'rt still alive,
  Know that a neighbour of mine, Vitaliano,
  Will have his seat here on my left-hand side.
A Paduan am I with these Florentines;
  Full many a time they thunder in mine ears,
  Exclaiming, 'Come the sovereign cavalier,
He who shall bring the satchel with three goats;'"
  Then twisted he his mouth, and forth he thrust
  His tongue, like to an ox that licks its nose.
And fearing lest my longer stay might vex
  Him who had warned me not to tarry long,
  Backward I turned me from those weary souls.
I found my Guide, who had already mounted
  Upon the back of that wild animal,
  And said to me: "Now be both strong and bold.
Now we descend by stairways such as these;
  Mount thou in front, for I will be midway,
  So that the tail may have no power to harm thee."
Such as he is who has so near the ague
  Of quartan that his nails are blue already,
  And trembles all, but looking at the shade;
Even such became I at those proffered words;
  But shame in me his menaces produced,
  Which maketh servant strong before good master.
I seated me upon those monstrous shoulders;
  I wished to say, and yet the voice came not
  As I believed, "Take heed that thou embrace me."
But he, who other times had rescued me
  In other peril, soon as I had mounted,
  Within his arms encircled and sustained me,
And said: "Now, Geryon, bestir thyself;
  The circles large, and the descent be little;
  Think of the novel burden which thou hast."
Even as the little vessel shoves from shore,
  Backward, still backward, so he thence withdrew;
  And when he wholly felt himself afloat,
There where his breast had been he turned his tail,
  And that extended like an eel he moved,
  And with his paws drew to himself the air.
A greater fear I do not think there was
  What time abandoned Phaeton the reins,
  Whereby the heavens, as still appears, were scorched;
Nor when the wretched Icarus his flanks
  Felt stripped of feathers by the melting wax,
  His father crying, "An ill way thou takest!"
Than was my own, when I perceived myself
  On all sides in the air, and saw extinguished
  The sight of everything but of the monster.
Onward he goeth, swimming slowly, slowly;
  Wheels and descends, but I perceive it only
  By wind upon my face and from below.
I heard already on the right the whirlpool
  Making a horrible crashing under us;
  Whence I thrust out my head with eyes cast downward.
Then was I still more fearful of the abyss;
  Because I fires beheld, and heard laments,
  Whereat I, trembling, all the closer cling.
I saw then, for before I had not seen it,
  The turning and descending, by great horrors
  That were approaching upon divers sides.
As falcon who has long been on the wing,
  Who, without seeing either lure or bird,
  Maketh the falconer say, "Ah me, thou stoopest,"
Descendeth weary, whence he started swiftly,
  Thorough a hundred circles, and alights
  Far from his master, sullen and disdainful;
Even thus did Geryon place us on the bottom,
  Close to the bases of the rough-hewn rock,
  And being disencumbered of our persons,
He sped away as arrow from the string.
Inferno: Canto XVIII
There is a place in Hell called Malebolge,
  Wholly of stone and of an iron colour,
  As is the circle that around it turns.
Right in the middle of the field malign
  There yawns a well exceeding wide and deep,
  Of which its place the structure will recount.
Round, then, is that enclosure which remains
  Between the well and foot of the high, hard bank,
  And has distinct in valleys ten its bottom.
As where for the protection of the walls
  Many and many moats surround the castles,
  The part in which they are a figure forms,
Just such an image those presented there;
  And as about such strongholds from their gates
  Unto the outer bank are little bridges,
So from the precipice's base did crags
  Project, which intersected dikes and moats,
  Unto the well that truncates and collects them.
Within this place, down shaken from the back
  Of Geryon, we found us; and the Poet
  Held to the left, and I moved on behind.
Upon my right hand I beheld new anguish,
  New torments, and new wielders of the lash,
  Wherewith the foremost Bolgia was replete.
Down at the bottom were the sinners naked;
  This side the middle came they facing us,
  Beyond it, with us, but with greater steps;
Even as the Romans, for the mighty host,
  The year of Jubilee, upon the bridge,
  Have chosen a mode to pass the people over;
For all upon one side towards the Castle
  Their faces have, and go unto St. Peter's;
  On the other side they go towards the Mountain.
This side and that, along the livid stone
  Beheld I horned demons with great scourges,
  Who cruelly were beating them behind.
Ah me! how they did make them lift their legs
  At the first blows! and sooth not any one
  The second waited for, nor for the third.
While I was going on, mine eyes by one
  Encountered were; and straight I said: "Already
  With sight of this one I am not unfed."
Therefore I stayed my feet to make him out,
  And with me the sweet Guide came to a stand,
  And to my going somewhat back assented;
And he, the scourged one, thought to hide himself,
  Lowering his face, but little it availed him;
  For said I: "Thou that castest down thine eyes,
If false are not the features which thou bearest,
  Thou art Venedico Caccianimico;
  But what doth bring thee to such pungent sauces?"
And he to me: "Unwillingly I tell it;
  But forces me thine utterance distinct,
  Which makes me recollect the ancient world.
I was the one who the fair Ghisola
  Induced to grant the wishes of the Marquis,
  Howe'er the shameless story may be told.
Not the sole Bolognese am I who weeps here;
  Nay, rather is this place so full of them,
  That not so many tongues to-day are taught
'Twixt Reno and Savena to say 'sipa;'
  And if thereof thou wishest pledge or proof,
  Bring to thy mind our avaricious heart."
While speaking in this manner, with his scourge
  A demon smote him, and said: "Get thee gone
  Pander, there are no women here for coin."
I joined myself again unto mine Escort;
  Thereafterward with footsteps few we came
  To where a crag projected from the bank.
This very easily did we ascend,
  And turning to the right along its ridge,
  From those eternal circles we departed.
When we were there, where it is hollowed out
  Beneath, to give a passage to the scourged,
  The Guide said: "Wait, and see that on thee strike
The vision of those others evil-born,
  Of whom thou hast not yet beheld the faces,
  Because together with us they have gone."
From the old bridge we looked upon the train
  Which tow'rds us came upon the other border,
  And which the scourges in like manner smite.
And the good Master, without my inquiring,
  Said to me: "See that tall one who is coming,
  And for his pain seems not to shed a tear;
Still what a royal aspect he retains!
  That Jason is, who by his heart and cunning
  The Colchians of the Ram made destitute.
He by the isle of Lemnos passed along
  After the daring women pitiless
  Had unto death devoted all their males.
There with his tokens and with ornate words
  Did he deceive Hypsipyle, the maiden
  Who first, herself, had all the rest deceived.
There did he leave her pregnant and forlorn;
  Such sin unto such punishment condemns him,
  And also for Medea is vengeance done.
With him go those who in such wise deceive;
  And this sufficient be of the first valley
  To know, and those that in its jaws it holds."
We were already where the narrow path
  Crosses athwart the second dike, and forms
  Of that a buttress for another arch.
Thence we heard people, who are making moan
  In the next Bolgia, snorting with their muzzles,
  And with their palms beating upon themselves
The margins were incrusted with a mould
  By exhalation from below, that sticks there,
  And with the eyes and nostrils wages war.
The bottom is so deep, no place suffices
  To give us sight of it, without ascending
  The arch's back, where most the crag impends.
Thither we came, and thence down in the moat
  I saw a people smothered in a filth
  That out of human privies seemed to flow;
And whilst below there with mine eye I search,
  I saw one with his head so foul with ordure,
  It was not clear if he were clerk or layman.
He screamed to me: "Wherefore art thou so eager
  To look at me more than the other foul ones?"
  And I to him: "Because, if I remember,
I have already seen thee with dry hair,
  And thou'rt Alessio Interminei of Lucca;
  Therefore I eye thee more than all the others."
And he thereon, belabouring his pumpkin:
  "The flatteries have submerged me here below,
  Wherewith my tongue was never surfeited."
Then said to me the Guide: "See that thou thrust
  Thy visage somewhat farther in advance,
  That with thine eyes thou well the face attain
Of that uncleanly and dishevelled drab,
  Who there doth scratch herself with filthy nails,
  And crouches now, and now on foot is standing.
Thais the harlot is it, who replied
  Unto her paramour, when he said, 'Have I
  Great gratitude from thee?'--'Nay, marvellous;'
And herewith let our sight be satisfied."
Inferno: Canto XIX
O Simon Magus, O forlorn disciples,
  Ye who the things of God, which ought to be
  The brides of holiness, rapaciously
For silver and for gold do prostitute,
  Now it behoves for you the trumpet sound,
  Because in this third Bolgia ye abide.
We had already on the following tomb
  Ascended to that portion of the crag
  Which o'er the middle of the moat hangs plumb.
Wisdom supreme, O how great art thou showest
  In heaven, in earth, and in the evil world,
  And with what justice doth thy power distribute!
I saw upon the sides and on the bottom
  The livid stone with perforations filled,
  All of one size, and every one was round.
To me less ample seemed they not, nor greater
  Than those that in my beautiful Saint John
  Are fashioned for the place of the baptisers,
And one of which, not many years ago,
  I broke for some one, who was drowning in it;
  Be this a seal all men to undeceive.
Out of the mouth of each one there protruded
  The feet of a transgressor, and the legs
  Up to the calf, the rest within remained.
In all of them the soles were both on fire;
  Wherefore the joints so violently quivered,
  They would have snapped asunder withes and bands.
Even as the flame of unctuous things is wont
  To move upon the outer surface only,
  So likewise was it there from heel to point.
"Master, who is that one who writhes himself,
  More than his other comrades quivering,"
  I said, "and whom a redder flame is sucking?"
And he to me: "If thou wilt have me bear thee
  Down there along that bank which lowest lies,
  From him thou'lt know his errors and himself."
And I: "What pleases thee, to me is pleasing;
  Thou art my Lord, and knowest that I depart not
  From thy desire, and knowest what is not spoken."
Straightway upon the fourth dike we arrived;
  We turned, and on the left-hand side descended
  Down to the bottom full of holes and narrow.
And the good Master yet from off his haunch
  Deposed me not, till to the hole he brought me
  Of him who so lamented with his shanks.
"Whoe'er thou art, that standest upside down,
  O doleful soul, implanted like a stake,"
  To say began I, "if thou canst, speak out."
I stood even as the friar who is confessing
  The false assassin, who, when he is fixed,
  Recalls him, so that death may be delayed.
And he cried out: "Dost thou stand there already,
  Dost thou stand there already, Boniface?
  By many years the record lied to me.
Art thou so early satiate with that wealth,
  For which thou didst not fear to take by fraud
  The beautiful Lady, and then work her woe?"
Such I became, as people are who stand,
  Not comprehending what is answered them,
  As if bemocked, and know not how to answer.
Then said Virgilius: "Say to him straightway,
  'I am not he, I am not he thou thinkest.'"
  And I replied as was imposed on me.
Whereat the spirit writhed with both his feet,
  Then, sighing, with a voice of lamentation
  Said to me: "Then what wantest thou of me?
If who I am thou carest so much to know,
  That thou on that account hast crossed the bank,
  Know that I vested was with the great mantle;
And truly was I son of the She-bear,
  So eager to advance the cubs, that wealth
  Above, and here myself, I pocketed.
Beneath my head the others are dragged down
  Who have preceded me in simony,
  Flattened along the fissure of the rock.
Below there I shall likewise fall, whenever
  That one shall come who I believed thou wast,
  What time the sudden question I proposed.
But longer I my feet already toast,
  And here have been in this way upside down,
  Than he will planted stay with reddened feet;
For after him shall come of fouler deed
  From tow'rds the west a Pastor without law,
  Such as befits to cover him and me.
New Jason will he be, of whom we read
  In Maccabees; and as his king was pliant,
  So he who governs France shall be to this one."
I do not know if I were here too bold,
  That him I answered only in this metre:
  "I pray thee tell me now how great a treasure
Our Lord demanded of Saint Peter first,
  Before he put the keys into his keeping?
  Truly he nothing asked but 'Follow me.'
Nor Peter nor the rest asked of Matthias
  Silver or gold, when he by lot was chosen
  Unto the place the guilty soul had lost.
Therefore stay here, for thou art justly punished,
  And keep safe guard o'er the ill-gotten money,
  Which caused thee to be valiant against Charles.
And were it not that still forbids it me
  The reverence for the keys superlative
  Thou hadst in keeping in the gladsome life,
I would make use of words more grievous still;
  Because your avarice afflicts the world,
  Trampling the good and lifting the depraved.
The Evangelist you Pastors had in mind,
  When she who sitteth upon many waters
  To fornicate with kings by him was seen;
The same who with the seven heads was born,
  And power and strength from the ten horns received,
  So long as virtue to her spouse was pleasing.
Ye have made yourselves a god of gold and silver;
  And from the idolater how differ ye,
  Save that he one, and ye a hundred worship?
Ah, Constantine! of how much ill was mother,
  Not thy conversion, but that marriage dower
  Which the first wealthy Father took from thee!"
And while I sang to him such notes as these,
  Either that anger or that conscience stung him,
  He struggled violently with both his feet.
I think in sooth that it my Leader pleased,
  With such contented lip he listened ever
  Unto the sound of the true words expressed.
Therefore with both his arms he took me up,
  And when he had me all upon his breast,
  Remounted by the way where he descended.
Nor did he tire to have me clasped to him;
  But bore me to the summit of the arch
  Which from the fourth dike to the fifth is passage.
There tenderly he laid his burden down,
  Tenderly on the crag uneven and steep,
  That would have been hard passage for the goats:
Thence was unveiled to me another valley.
Inferno: Canto XX
Of a new pain behoves me to make verses
  And give material to the twentieth canto
  Of the first song, which is of the submerged.
I was already thoroughly disposed
  To peer down into the uncovered depth,
  Which bathed itself with tears of agony;
And people saw I through the circular valley,
  Silent and weeping, coming at the pace
  Which in this world the Litanies assume.
As lower down my sight descended on them,
  Wondrously each one seemed to be distorted
  From chin to the beginning of the chest;
For tow'rds the reins the countenance was turned,
  And backward it behoved them to advance,
  As to look forward had been taken from them.
Perchance indeed by violence of palsy
  Some one has been thus wholly turned awry;
  But I ne'er saw it, nor believe it can be.
As God may let thee, Reader, gather fruit
  From this thy reading, think now for thyself
  How I could ever keep my face unmoistened,
When our own image near me I beheld
  Distorted so, the weeping of the eyes
  Along the fissure bathed the hinder parts.
Truly I wept, leaning upon a peak
  Of the hard crag, so that my Escort said
  To me: "Art thou, too, of the other fools?
Here pity lives when it is wholly dead;
  Who is a greater reprobate than he
  Who feels compassion at the doom divine?
Lift up, lift up thy head, and see for whom
  Opened the earth before the Thebans' eyes;
  Wherefore they all cried: 'Whither rushest thou,
Amphiaraus?  Why dost leave the war?'
  And downward ceased he not to fall amain
  As far as Minos, who lays hold on all.
See, he has made a bosom of his shoulders!
  Because he wished to see too far before him
  Behind he looks, and backward goes his way:
Behold Tiresias, who his semblance changed,
  When from a male a female he became,
  His members being all of them transformed;
And afterwards was forced to strike once more
  The two entangled serpents with his rod,
  Ere he could have again his manly plumes.
That Aruns is, who backs the other's belly,
  Who in the hills of Luni, there where grubs
  The Carrarese who houses underneath,
Among the marbles white a cavern had
  For his abode; whence to behold the stars
  And sea, the view was not cut off from him.
And she there, who is covering up her breasts,
  Which thou beholdest not, with loosened tresses,
  And on that side has all the hairy skin,
Was Manto, who made quest through many lands,
  Afterwards tarried there where I was born;
  Whereof I would thou list to me a little.
After her father had from life departed,
  And the city of Bacchus had become enslaved,
  She a long season wandered through the world.
Above in beauteous Italy lies a lake
  At the Alp's foot that shuts in Germany
  Over Tyrol, and has the name Benaco.
By a thousand springs, I think, and more, is bathed,
  'Twixt Garda and Val Camonica, Pennino,
  With water that grows stagnant in that lake.
Midway a place is where the Trentine Pastor,
  And he of Brescia, and the Veronese
  Might give his blessing, if he passed that way.
Sitteth Peschiera, fortress fair and strong,
  To front the Brescians and the Bergamasks,
  Where round about the bank descendeth lowest.
There of necessity must fall whatever
  In bosom of Benaco cannot stay,
  And grows a river down through verdant pastures.
Soon as the water doth begin to run,
  No more Benaco is it called, but Mincio,
  Far as Governo, where it falls in Po.
Not far it runs before it finds a plain
  In which it spreads itself, and makes it marshy,
  And oft 'tis wont in summer to be sickly.
Passing that way the virgin pitiless
  Land in the middle of the fen descried,
  Untilled and naked of inhabitants;
There to escape all human intercourse,
  She with her servants stayed, her arts to practise
  And lived, and left her empty body there.
The men, thereafter, who were scattered round,
  Collected in that place, which was made strong
  By the lagoon it had on every side;
They built their city over those dead bones,
  And, after her who first the place selected,
  Mantua named it, without other omen.
Its people once within more crowded were,
  Ere the stupidity of Casalodi
  From Pinamonte had received deceit.
Therefore I caution thee, if e'er thou hearest
  Originate my city otherwise,
  No falsehood may the verity defraud."
And I: "My Master, thy discourses are
  To me so certain, and so take my faith,
  That unto me the rest would be spent coals.
But tell me of the people who are passing,
  If any one note-worthy thou beholdest,
  For only unto that my mind reverts."
Then said he to me: "He who from the cheek
  Thrusts out his beard upon his swarthy shoulders
  Was, at the time when Greece was void of males,
So that there scarce remained one in the cradle,
  An augur, and with Calchas gave the moment,
  In Aulis, when to sever the first cable.
Eryphylus his name was, and so sings
  My lofty Tragedy in some part or other;
  That knowest thou well, who knowest the whole of it.
The next, who is so slender in the flanks,
  Was Michael Scott, who of a verity
  Of magical illusions knew the game.
Behold Guido Bonatti, behold Asdente,
  Who now unto his leather and his thread
  Would fain have stuck, but he too late repents.
Behold the wretched ones, who left the needle,
  The spool and rock, and made them fortune-tellers;
  They wrought their magic spells with herb and image.
But come now, for already holds the confines
  Of both the hemispheres, and under Seville
  Touches the ocean-wave, Cain and the thorns,
And yesternight the moon was round already;
  Thou shouldst remember well it did not harm thee
  From time to time within the forest deep."
Thus spake he to me, and we walked the while.
Inferno: Canto XXI
From bridge to bridge thus, speaking other things
  Of which my Comedy cares not to sing,
  We came along, and held the summit, when
We halted to behold another fissure
  Of Malebolge and other vain laments;
  And I beheld it marvellously dark.
As in the Arsenal of the Venetians
  Boils in the winter the tenacious pitch
  To smear their unsound vessels o'er again,
For sail they cannot; and instead thereof
  One makes his vessel new, and one recaulks
  The ribs of that which many a voyage has made;
One hammers at the prow, one at the stern,
  This one makes oars, and that one cordage twists,
  Another mends the mainsail and the mizzen;
Thus, not by fire, but by the art divine,
  Was boiling down below there a dense pitch
  Which upon every side the bank belimed.
I saw it, but I did not see within it
  Aught but the bubbles that the boiling raised,
  And all swell up and resubside compressed.
The while below there fixedly I gazed,
  My Leader, crying out: "Beware, beware!"
  Drew me unto himself from where I stood.
Then I turned round, as one who is impatient
  To see what it behoves him to escape,
  And whom a sudden terror doth unman,
Who, while he looks, delays not his departure;
  And I beheld behind us a black devil,
  Running along upon the crag, approach.
Ah, how ferocious was he in his aspect!
  And how he seemed to me in action ruthless,
  With open wings and light upon his feet!
His shoulders, which sharp-pointed were and high,
  A sinner did encumber with both haunches,
  And he held clutched the sinews of the feet.
From off our bridge, he said: "O Malebranche,
  Behold one of the elders of Saint Zita;
  Plunge him beneath, for I return for others
Unto that town, which is well furnished with them.
  All there are barrators, except Bonturo;
  No into Yes for money there is changed."
He hurled him down, and over the hard crag
  Turned round, and never was a mastiff loosened
  In so much hurry to pursue a thief.
The other sank, and rose again face downward;
  But the demons, under cover of the bridge,
  Cried: "Here the Santo Volto has no place!
Here swims one otherwise than in the Serchio;
  Therefore, if for our gaffs thou wishest not,
  Do not uplift thyself above the pitch."
They seized him then with more than a hundred rakes;
  They said: "It here behoves thee to dance covered,
  That, if thou canst, thou secretly mayest pilfer."
Not otherwise the cooks their scullions make
  Immerse into the middle of the caldron
  The meat with hooks, so that it may not float.
Said the good Master to me: "That it be not
  Apparent thou art here, crouch thyself down
  Behind a jag, that thou mayest have some screen;
And for no outrage that is done to me
  Be thou afraid, because these things I know,
  For once before was I in such a scuffle."
Then he passed on beyond the bridge's head,
  And as upon the sixth bank he arrived,
  Need was for him to have a steadfast front.
With the same fury, and the same uproar,
  As dogs leap out upon a mendicant,
  Who on a sudden begs, where'er he stops,
They issued from beneath the little bridge,
  And turned against him all their grappling-irons;
  But he cried out: "Be none of you malignant!
Before those hooks of yours lay hold of me,
  Let one of you step forward, who may hear me,
  And then take counsel as to grappling me."
They all cried out: "Let Malacoda go;"
  Whereat one started, and the rest stood still,
  And he came to him, saying: "What avails it?"
"Thinkest thou, Malacoda, to behold me
  Advanced into this place," my Master said,
  "Safe hitherto from all your skill of fence,
Without the will divine, and fate auspicious?
  Let me go on, for it in Heaven is willed
  That I another show this savage road."
Then was his arrogance so humbled in him,
  That he let fall his grapnel at his feet,
  And to the others said: "Now strike him not."
And unto me my Guide: "O thou, who sittest
  Among the splinters of the bridge crouched down,
  Securely now return to me again."
Wherefore I started and came swiftly to him;
  And all the devils forward thrust themselves,
  So that I feared they would not keep their compact.
And thus beheld I once afraid the soldiers
  Who issued under safeguard from Caprona,
  Seeing themselves among so many foes.
Close did I press myself with all my person
  Beside my Leader, and turned not mine eyes
  From off their countenance, which was not good.
They lowered their rakes, and "Wilt thou have me hit him,"
  They said to one another, "on the rump?"
  And answered: "Yes; see that thou nick him with it."
But the same demon who was holding parley
  With my Conductor turned him very quickly,
  And said: "Be quiet, be quiet, Scarmiglione;"
Then said to us: "You can no farther go
  Forward upon this crag, because is lying
  All shattered, at the bottom, the sixth arch.
And if it still doth please you to go onward,
  Pursue your way along upon this rock;
  Near is another crag that yields a path.
Yesterday, five hours later than this hour,
  One thousand and two hundred sixty-six
  Years were complete, that here the way was broken.
I send in that direction some of mine
  To see if any one doth air himself;
  Go ye with them; for they will not be vicious.
Step forward, Alichino and Calcabrina,"
  Began he to cry out, "and thou, Cagnazzo;
  And Barbariccia, do thou guide the ten.
Come forward, Libicocco and Draghignazzo,
  And tusked Ciriatto and Graffiacane,
  And Farfarello and mad Rubicante;
Search ye all round about the boiling pitch;
  Let these be safe as far as the next crag,
  That all unbroken passes o'er the dens."
"O me! what is it, Master, that I see?
  Pray let us go," I said, "without an escort,
  If thou knowest how, since for myself I ask none.
If thou art as observant as thy wont is,
  Dost thou not see that they do gnash their teeth,
  And with their brows are threatening woe to us?"
And he to me: "I will not have thee fear;
  Let them gnash on, according to their fancy,
  Because they do it for those boiling wretches."
Along the left-hand dike they wheeled about;
  But first had each one thrust his tongue between
  His teeth towards their leader for a signal;
And he had made a trumpet of his rump.
Inferno: Canto XXII
I have erewhile seen horsemen moving camp,
  Begin the storming, and their muster make,
  And sometimes starting off for their escape;
Vaunt-couriers have I seen upon your land,
  O Aretines, and foragers go forth,
  Tournaments stricken, and the joustings run,
Sometimes with trumpets and sometimes with bells,
  With kettle-drums, and signals of the castles,
  And with our own, and with outlandish things,
But never yet with bagpipe so uncouth
  Did I see horsemen move, nor infantry,
  Nor ship by any sign of land or star.
We went upon our way with the ten demons;
  Ah, savage company! but in the church
  With saints, and in the tavern with the gluttons!
Ever upon the pitch was my intent,
  To see the whole condition of that Bolgia,
  And of the people who therein were burned.
Even as the dolphins, when they make a sign
  To mariners by arching of the back,
  That they should counsel take to save their vessel,
Thus sometimes, to alleviate his pain,
  One of the sinners would display his back,
  And in less time conceal it than it lightens.
As on the brink of water in a ditch
  The frogs stand only with their muzzles out,
  So that they hide their feet and other bulk,
So upon every side the sinners stood;
  But ever as Barbariccia near them came,
  Thus underneath the boiling they withdrew.
I saw, and still my heart doth shudder at it,
  One waiting thus, even as it comes to pass
  One frog remains, and down another dives;
And Graffiacan, who most confronted him,
  Grappled him by his tresses smeared with pitch,
  And drew him up, so that he seemed an otter.
I knew, before, the names of all of them,
  So had I noted them when they were chosen,
  And when they called each other, listened how.
"O Rubicante, see that thou do lay
  Thy claws upon him, so that thou mayst flay him,"
  Cried all together the accursed ones.
And I: "My Master, see to it, if thou canst,
  That thou mayst know who is the luckless wight,
  Thus come into his adversaries' hands."
Near to the side of him my Leader drew,
  Asked of him whence he was; and he replied:
  "I in the kingdom of Navarre was born;
My mother placed me servant to a lord,
  For she had borne me to a ribald knave,
  Destroyer of himself and of his things.
Then I domestic was of good King Thibault;
  I set me there to practise barratry,
  For which I pay the reckoning in this heat."
And Ciriatto, from whose mouth projected,
  On either side, a tusk, as in a boar,
  Caused him to feel how one of them could rip.
Among malicious cats the mouse had come;
  But Barbariccia clasped him in his arms,
  And said: "Stand ye aside, while I enfork him."
And to my Master he turned round his head;
  "Ask him again," he said, "if more thou wish
  To know from him, before some one destroy him."
The Guide: "Now tell then of the other culprits;
  Knowest thou any one who is a Latian,
  Under the pitch?"  And he: "I separated
Lately from one who was a neighbour to it;
  Would that I still were covered up with him,
  For I should fear not either claw nor hook!"
And Libicocco: "We have borne too much;"
  And with his grapnel seized him by the arm,
  So that, by rending, he tore off a tendon.
Eke Draghignazzo wished to pounce upon him
  Down at the legs; whence their Decurion
  Turned round and round about with evil look.
When they again somewhat were pacified,
  Of him, who still was looking at his wound,
  Demanded my Conductor without stay:
"Who was that one, from whom a luckless parting
  Thou sayest thou hast made, to come ashore?"
  And he replied: "It was the Friar Gomita,
He of Gallura, vessel of all fraud,
  Who had the enemies of his Lord in hand,
  And dealt so with them each exults thereat;
Money he took, and let them smoothly off,
  As he says; and in other offices
  A barrator was he, not mean but sovereign.
Foregathers with him one Don Michael Zanche
  Of Logodoro; and of Sardinia
  To gossip never do their tongues feel tired.
O me! see that one, how he grinds his teeth;
  Still farther would I speak, but am afraid
  Lest he to scratch my itch be making ready."
And the grand Provost, turned to Farfarello,
  Who rolled his eyes about as if to strike,
  Said: "Stand aside there, thou malicious bird."
"If you desire either to see or hear,"
  The terror-stricken recommenced thereon,
  "Tuscans or Lombards, I will make them come.
But let the Malebranche cease a little,
  So that these may not their revenges fear,
  And I, down sitting in this very place,
For one that I am will make seven come,
  When I shall whistle, as our custom is
  To do whenever one of us comes out."
Cagnazzo at these words his muzzle lifted,
  Shaking his head, and said: "Just hear the trick
  Which he has thought of, down to throw himself!"
Whence he, who snares in great abundance had,
  Responded: "I by far too cunning am,
  When I procure for mine a greater sadness."
Alichin held not in, but running counter
  Unto the rest, said to him: "If thou dive,
  I will not follow thee upon the gallop,
But I will beat my wings above the pitch;
  The height be left, and be the bank a shield
  To see if thou alone dost countervail us."
O thou who readest, thou shalt hear new sport!
  Each to the other side his eyes averted;
  He first, who most reluctant was to do it.
The Navarrese selected well his time;
  Planted his feet on land, and in a moment
  Leaped, and released himself from their design.
Whereat each one was suddenly stung with shame,
  But he most who was cause of the defeat;
  Therefore he moved, and cried: "Thou art o'ertakern."
But little it availed, for wings could not
  Outstrip the fear; the other one went under,
  And, flying, upward he his breast directed;
Not otherwise the duck upon a sudden
  Dives under, when the falcon is approaching,
  And upward he returneth cross and weary.
Infuriate at the mockery, Calcabrina
  Flying behind him followed close, desirous
  The other should escape, to have a quarrel.
And when the barrator had disappeared,
  He turned his talons upon his companion,
  And grappled with him right above the moat.
But sooth the other was a doughty sparhawk
  To clapperclaw him well; and both of them
  Fell in the middle of the boiling pond.
A sudden intercessor was the heat;
  But ne'ertheless of rising there was naught,
  To such degree they had their wings belimed.
Lamenting with the others, Barbariccia
  Made four of them fly to the other side
  With all their gaffs, and very speedily
This side and that they to their posts descended;
  They stretched their hooks towards the pitch-ensnared,
  Who were already baked within the crust,
And in this manner busied did we leave them.
Inferno: Canto XXIII
Silent, alone, and without company
  We went, the one in front, the other after,
  As go the Minor Friars along their way.
Upon the fable of Aesop was directed
  My thought, by reason of the present quarrel,
  Where he has spoken of the frog and mouse;
For 'mo' and 'issa' are not more alike
  Than this one is to that, if well we couple
  End and beginning with a steadfast mind.
And even as one thought from another springs,
  So afterward from that was born another,
  Which the first fear within me double made.
Thus did I ponder: "These on our account
  Are laughed to scorn, with injury and scoff
  So great, that much I think it must annoy them.
If anger be engrafted on ill-will,
  They will come after us more merciless
  Than dog upon the leveret which he seizes,"
I felt my hair stand all on end already
  With terror, and stood backwardly intent,
  When said I: "Master, if thou hidest not
Thyself and me forthwith, of Malebranche
  I am in dread; we have them now behind us;
  I so imagine them, I already feel them."
And he: "If I were made of leaded glass,
  Thine outward image I should not attract
  Sooner to me than I imprint the inner.
Just now thy thoughts came in among my own,
  With similar attitude and similar face,
  So that of both one counsel sole I made.
If peradventure the right bank so slope
  That we to the next Bolgia can descend,
  We shall escape from the imagined chase."
Not yet he finished rendering such opinion,
  When I beheld them come with outstretched wings,
  Not far remote, with will to seize upon us.
My Leader on a sudden seized me up,
  Even as a mother who by noise is wakened,
  And close beside her sees the enkindled flames,
Who takes her son, and flies, and does not stop,
  Having more care of him than of herself,
  So that she clothes her only with a shift;
And downward from the top of the hard bank
  Supine he gave him to the pendent rock,
  That one side of the other Bolgia walls.
Ne'er ran so swiftly water through a sluice
  To turn the wheel of any land-built mill,
  When nearest to the paddles it approaches,
As did my Master down along that border,
  Bearing me with him on his breast away,
  As his own son, and not as a companion.
Hardly the bed of the ravine below
  His feet had reached, ere they had reached the hill
  Right over us; but he was not afraid;
For the high Providence, which had ordained
  To place them ministers of the fifth moat,
  The power of thence departing took from all.
A painted people there below we found,
  Who went about with footsteps very slow,
  Weeping and in their semblance tired and vanquished.
They had on mantles with the hoods low down
  Before their eyes, and fashioned of the cut
  That in Cologne they for the monks are made.
Without, they gilded are so that it dazzles;
  But inwardly all leaden and so heavy
  That Frederick used to put them on of straw.
O everlastingly fatiguing mantle!
  Again we turned us, still to the left hand
  Along with them, intent on their sad plaint;
But owing to the weight, that weary folk
  Came on so tardily, that we were new
  In company at each motion of the haunch.
Whence I unto my Leader: "See thou find
  Some one who may by deed or name be known,
  And thus in going move thine eye about."
And one, who understood the Tuscan speech,
  Cried to us from behind: "Stay ye your feet,
  Ye, who so run athwart the dusky air!
Perhaps thou'lt have from me what thou demandest."
  Whereat the Leader turned him, and said: "Wait,
  And then according to his pace proceed."
I stopped, and two beheld I show great haste
  Of spirit, in their faces, to be with me;
  But the burden and the narrow way delayed them.
When they came up, long with an eye askance
  They scanned me without uttering a word.
  Then to each other turned, and said together:
"He by the action of his throat seems living;
  And if they dead are, by what privilege
  Go they uncovered by the heavy stole?"
Then said to me: "Tuscan, who to the college
  Of miserable hypocrites art come,
  Do not disdain to tell us who thou art."
And I to them: "Born was I, and grew up
  In the great town on the fair river of Arno,
  And with the body am I've always had.
But who are ye, in whom there trickles down
  Along your cheeks such grief as I behold?
  And what pain is upon you, that so sparkles?"
And one replied to me: "These orange cloaks
  Are made of lead so heavy, that the weights
  Cause in this way their balances to creak.
Frati Gaudenti were we, and Bolognese;
  I Catalano, and he Loderingo
  Named, and together taken by thy city,
As the wont is to take one man alone,
  For maintenance of its peace; and we were such
  That still it is apparent round Gardingo."
"O Friars," began I, "your iniquitous. . ."
  But said no more; for to mine eyes there rushed
  One crucified with three stakes on the ground.
When me he saw, he writhed himself all over,
  Blowing into his beard with suspirations;
  And the Friar Catalan, who noticed this,
Said to me: "This transfixed one, whom thou seest,
  Counselled the Pharisees that it was meet
  To put one man to torture for the people.
Crosswise and naked is he on the path,
  As thou perceivest; and he needs must feel,
  Whoever passes, first how much he weighs;
And in like mode his father-in-law is punished
  Within this moat, and the others of the council,
  Which for the Jews was a malignant seed."
And thereupon I saw Virgilius marvel
  O'er him who was extended on the cross
  So vilely in eternal banishment.
Then he directed to the Friar this voice:
  "Be not displeased, if granted thee, to tell us
  If to the right hand any pass slope down
By which we two may issue forth from here,
  Without constraining some of the black angels
  To come and extricate us from this deep."
Then he made answer: "Nearer than thou hopest
  There is a rock, that forth from the great circle
  Proceeds, and crosses all the cruel valleys,
Save that at this 'tis broken, and does not bridge it;
  You will be able to mount up the ruin,
  That sidelong slopes and at the bottom rises."
The Leader stood awhile with head bowed down;
  Then said: "The business badly he recounted
  Who grapples with his hook the sinners yonder."
And the Friar: "Many of the Devil's vices
  Once heard I at Bologna, and among them,
  That he's a liar and the father of lies."
Thereat my Leader with great strides went on,
  Somewhat disturbed with anger in his looks;
  Whence from the heavy-laden I departed
After the prints of his beloved feet.
Inferno: Canto XXIV
In that part of the youthful year wherein
  The Sun his locks beneath Aquarius tempers,
  And now the nights draw near to half the day,
What time the hoar-frost copies on the ground
  The outward semblance of her sister white,
  But little lasts the temper of her pen,
The husbandman, whose forage faileth him,
  Rises, and looks, and seeth the champaign
  All gleaming white, whereat he beats his flank,
Returns in doors, and up and down laments,
  Like a poor wretch, who knows not what to do;
  Then he returns and hope revives again,
Seeing the world has changed its countenance
  In little time, and takes his shepherd's crook,
  And forth the little lambs to pasture drives.
Thus did the Master fill me with alarm,
  When I beheld his forehead so disturbed,
  And to the ailment came as soon the plaster.
For as we came unto the ruined bridge,
  The Leader turned to me with that sweet look
  Which at the mountain's foot I first beheld.
His arms he opened, after some advisement
  Within himself elected, looking first
  Well at the ruin, and laid hold of me.
And even as he who acts and meditates,
  For aye it seems that he provides beforehand,
  So upward lifting me towards the summit
Of a huge rock, he scanned another crag,
  Saying: "To that one grapple afterwards,
  But try first if 'tis such that it will hold thee."
This was no way for one clothed with a cloak;
  For hardly we, he light, and I pushed upward,
  Were able to ascend from jag to jag.
And had it not been, that upon that precinct
  Shorter was the ascent than on the other,
  He I know not, but I had been dead beat.
But because Malebolge tow'rds the mouth
  Of the profoundest well is all inclining,
  The structure of each valley doth import
That one bank rises and the other sinks.
  Still we arrived at length upon the point
  Wherefrom the last stone breaks itself asunder.
The breath was from my lungs so milked away,
  When I was up, that I could go no farther,
  Nay, I sat down upon my first arrival.
"Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth,"
  My Master said; "for sitting upon down,
  Or under quilt, one cometh not to fame,
Withouten which whoso his life consumes
  Such vestige leaveth of himself on earth,
  As smoke in air or in the water foam.
And therefore raise thee up, o'ercome the anguish
  With spirit that o'ercometh every battle,
  If with its heavy body it sink not.
A longer stairway it behoves thee mount;
  'Tis not enough from these to have departed;
  Let it avail thee, if thou understand me."
Then I uprose, showing myself provided
  Better with breath than I did feel myself,
  And said: "Go on, for I am strong and bold."
Upward we took our way along the crag,
  Which jagged was, and narrow, and difficult,
  And more precipitous far than that before.
Speaking I went, not to appear exhausted;
  Whereat a voice from the next moat came forth,
  Not well adapted to articulate words.
I know not what it said, though o'er the back
  I now was of the arch that passes there;
  But he seemed moved to anger who was speaking.
I was bent downward, but my living eyes
  Could not attain the bottom, for the dark;
  Wherefore I: "Master, see that thou arrive
At the next round, and let us descend the wall;
  For as from hence I hear and understand not,
  So I look down and nothing I distinguish."
"Other response," he said, "I make thee not,
  Except the doing; for the modest asking
  Ought to be followed by the deed in silence."
We from the bridge descended at its head,
  Where it connects itself with the eighth bank,
  And then was manifest to me the Bolgia;
And I beheld therein a terrible throng
  Of serpents, and of such a monstrous kind,
  That the remembrance still congeals my blood
Let Libya boast no longer with her sand;
  For if Chelydri, Jaculi, and Phareae
  She breeds, with Cenchri and with Amphisbaena,
Neither so many plagues nor so malignant
  E'er showed she with all Ethiopia,
  Nor with whatever on the Red Sea is!
Among this cruel and most dismal throng
  People were running naked and affrighted.
  Without the hope of hole or heliotrope.
They had their hands with serpents bound behind them;
  These riveted upon their reins the tail
  And head, and were in front of them entwined.
And lo! at one who was upon our side
  There darted forth a serpent, which transfixed him
  There where the neck is knotted to the shoulders.
Nor 'O' so quickly e'er, nor 'I' was written,
  As he took fire, and burned; and ashes wholly
  Behoved it that in falling he became.
And when he on the ground was thus destroyed,
  The ashes drew together, and of themselves
  Into himself they instantly returned.
Even thus by the great sages 'tis confessed
  The phoenix dies, and then is born again,
  When it approaches its five-hundredth year;
On herb or grain it feeds not in its life,
  But only on tears of incense and amomum,
  And nard and myrrh are its last winding-sheet.
And as he is who falls, and knows not how,
  By force of demons who to earth down drag him,
  Or other oppilation that binds man,
When he arises and around him looks,
  Wholly bewildered by the mighty anguish
  Which he has suffered, and in looking sighs;
Such was that sinner after he had risen.
  Justice of God! O how severe it is,
  That blows like these in vengeance poureth down!
The Guide thereafter asked him who he was;
  Whence he replied: "I rained from Tuscany
  A short time since into this cruel gorge.
A bestial life, and not a human, pleased me,
  Even as the mule I was; I'm Vanni Fucci,
  Beast, and Pistoia was my worthy den."
And I unto the Guide: "Tell him to stir not,
  And ask what crime has thrust him here below,
  For once a man of blood and wrath I saw him."
And the sinner, who had heard, dissembled not,
  But unto me directed mind and face,
  And with a melancholy shame was painted.
Then said: "It pains me more that thou hast caught me
  Amid this misery where thou seest me,
  Than when I from the other life was taken.
What thou demandest I cannot deny;
  So low am I put down because I robbed
  The sacristy of the fair ornaments,
And falsely once 'twas laid upon another;
  But that thou mayst not such a sight enjoy,
  If thou shalt e'er be out of the dark places,
Thine ears to my announcement ope and hear:
  Pistoia first of Neri groweth meagre;
  Then Florence doth renew her men and manners;
Mars draws a vapour up from Val di Magra,
  Which is with turbid clouds enveloped round,
  And with impetuous and bitter tempest
Over Campo Picen shall be the battle;
  When it shall suddenly rend the mist asunder,
  So that each Bianco shall thereby be smitten.
And this I've said that it may give thee pain."
Inferno: Canto XXV
At the conclusion of his words, the thief
  Lifted his hands aloft with both the figs,
  Crying: "Take that, God, for at thee I aim them."
From that time forth the serpents were my friends;
  For one entwined itself about his neck
  As if it said: "I will not thou speak more;"
And round his arms another, and rebound him,
  Clinching itself together so in front,
  That with them he could not a motion make.
Pistoia, ah, Pistoia! why resolve not
  To burn thyself to ashes and so perish,
  Since in ill-doing thou thy seed excellest?
Through all the sombre circles of this Hell,
  Spirit I saw not against God so proud,
  Not he who fell at Thebes down from the walls!
He fled away, and spake no further word;
  And I beheld a Centaur full of rage
  Come crying out: "Where is, where is the scoffer?"
I do not think Maremma has so many
  Serpents as he had all along his back,
  As far as where our countenance begins.
Upon the shoulders, just behind the nape,
  With wings wide open was a dragon lying,
  And he sets fire to all that he encounters.
My Master said: "That one is Cacus, who
  Beneath the rock upon Mount Aventine
  Created oftentimes a lake of blood.
He goes not on the same road with his brothers,
  By reason of the fraudulent theft he made
  Of the great herd, which he had near to him;
Whereat his tortuous actions ceased beneath
  The mace of Hercules, who peradventure
  Gave him a hundred, and he felt not ten."
While he was speaking thus, he had passed by,
  And spirits three had underneath us come,
  Of which nor I aware was, nor my Leader,
Until what time they shouted: "Who are you?"
  On which account our story made a halt,
  And then we were intent on them alone.
I did not know them; but it came to pass,
  As it is wont to happen by some chance,
  That one to name the other was compelled,
Exclaiming: "Where can Cianfa have remained?"
  Whence I, so that the Leader might attend,
  Upward from chin to nose my finger laid.
If thou art, Reader, slow now to believe
  What I shall say, it will no marvel be,
  For I who saw it hardly can admit it.
As I was holding raised on them my brows,
  Behold! a serpent with six feet darts forth
  In front of one, and fastens wholly on him.
With middle feet it bound him round the paunch,
  And with the forward ones his arms it seized;
  Then thrust its teeth through one cheek and the other;
The hindermost it stretched upon his thighs,
  And put its tail through in between the two,
  And up behind along the reins outspread it.
Ivy was never fastened by its barbs
  Unto a tree so, as this horrible reptile
  Upon the other's limbs entwined its own.
Then they stuck close, as if of heated wax
  They had been made, and intermixed their colour;
  Nor one nor other seemed now what he was;
E'en as proceedeth on before the flame
  Upward along the paper a brown colour,
  Which is not black as yet, and the white dies.
The other two looked on, and each of them
  Cried out: "O me, Agnello, how thou changest!
  Behold, thou now art neither two nor one."
Already the two heads had one become,
  When there appeared to us two figures mingled
  Into one face, wherein the two were lost.
Of the four lists were fashioned the two arms,
  The thighs and legs, the belly and the chest
  Members became that never yet were seen.
Every original aspect there was cancelled;
  Two and yet none did the perverted image
  Appear, and such departed with slow pace.
Even as a lizard, under the great scourge
  Of days canicular, exchanging hedge,
  Lightning appeareth if the road it cross;
Thus did appear, coming towards the bellies
  Of the two others, a small fiery serpent,
  Livid and black as is a peppercorn.
And in that part whereat is first received
  Our aliment, it one of them transfixed;
  Then downward fell in front of him extended.
The one transfixed looked at it, but said naught;
  Nay, rather with feet motionless he yawned,
  Just as if sleep or fever had assailed him.
He at the serpent gazed, and it at him;
  One through the wound, the other through the mouth
  Smoked violently, and the smoke commingled.
Henceforth be silent Lucan, where he mentions
  Wretched Sabellus and Nassidius,
  And wait to hear what now shall be shot forth.
Be silent Ovid, of Cadmus and Arethusa;
  For if him to a snake, her to fountain,
  Converts he fabling, that I grudge him not;
Because two natures never front to front
  Has he transmuted, so that both the forms
  To interchange their matter ready were.
Together they responded in such wise,
  That to a fork the serpent cleft his tail,
  And eke the wounded drew his feet together.
The legs together with the thighs themselves
  Adhered so, that in little time the juncture
  No sign whatever made that was apparent.
He with the cloven tail assumed the figure
  The other one was losing, and his skin
  Became elastic, and the other's hard.
I saw the arms draw inward at the armpits,
  And both feet of the reptile, that were short,
  Lengthen as much as those contracted were.
Thereafter the hind feet, together twisted,
  Became the member that a man conceals,
  And of his own the wretch had two created.
While both of them the exhalation veils
  With a new colour, and engenders hair
  On one of them and depilates the other,
The one uprose and down the other fell,
  Though turning not away their impious lamps,
  Underneath which each one his muzzle changed.
He who was standing drew it tow'rds the temples,
  And from excess of matter, which came thither,
  Issued the ears from out the hollow cheeks;
What did not backward run and was retained
  Of that excess made to the face a nose,
  And the lips thickened far as was befitting.
He who lay prostrate thrusts his muzzle forward,
  And backward draws the ears into his head,
  In the same manner as the snail its horns;
And so the tongue, which was entire and apt
  For speech before, is cleft, and the bi-forked
  In the other closes up, and the smoke ceases.
The soul, which to a reptile had been changed,
  Along the valley hissing takes to flight,
  And after him the other speaking sputters.
Then did he turn upon him his new shoulders,
  And said to the other: "I'll have Buoso run,
  Crawling as I have done, along this road."
In this way I beheld the seventh ballast
  Shift and reshift, and here be my excuse
  The novelty, if aught my pen transgress.
And notwithstanding that mine eyes might be
  Somewhat bewildered, and my mind dismayed,
  They could not flee away so secretly
But that I plainly saw Puccio Sciancato;
  And he it was who sole of three companions,
  Which came in the beginning, was not changed;
The other was he whom thou, Gaville, weepest.
Inferno: Canto XXVI
Rejoice, O Florence, since thou art so great,
  That over sea and land thou beatest thy wings,
  And throughout Hell thy name is spread abroad!
Among the thieves five citizens of thine
  Like these I found, whence shame comes unto me,
  And thou thereby to no great honour risest.
But if when morn is near our dreams are true,
  Feel shalt thou in a little time from now
  What Prato, if none other, craves for thee.
And if it now were, it were not too soon;
  Would that it were, seeing it needs must be,
  For 'twill aggrieve me more the more I age.
We went our way, and up along the stairs
  The bourns had made us to descend before,
  Remounted my Conductor and drew me.
And following the solitary path
  Among the rocks and ridges of the crag,
  The foot without the hand sped not at all.
Then sorrowed I, and sorrow now again,
  When I direct my mind to what I saw,
  And more my genius curb than I am wont,
That it may run not unless virtue guide it;
  So that if some good star, or better thing,
  Have given me good, I may myself not grudge it.
As many as the hind (who on the hill
  Rests at the time when he who lights the world
  His countenance keeps least concealed from us,
While as the fly gives place unto the gnat)
  Seeth the glow-worms down along the valley,
  Perchance there where he ploughs and makes his vintage;
With flames as manifold resplendent all
  Was the eighth Bolgia, as I grew aware
  As soon as I was where the depth appeared.
And such as he who with the bears avenged him
  Beheld Elijah's chariot at departing,
  What time the steeds to heaven erect uprose,
For with his eye he could not follow it
  So as to see aught else than flame alone,
  Even as a little cloud ascending upward,
Thus each along the gorge of the intrenchment
  Was moving; for not one reveals the theft,
  And every flame a sinner steals away.
I stood upon the bridge uprisen to see,
  So that, if I had seized not on a rock,
  Down had I fallen without being pushed.
And the Leader, who beheld me so attent,
  Exclaimed: "Within the fires the spirits are;
  Each swathes himself with that wherewith he burns."
"My Master," I replied, "by hearing thee
  I am more sure; but I surmised already
  It might be so, and already wished to ask thee
Who is within that fire, which comes so cleft
  At top, it seems uprising from the pyre
  Where was Eteocles with his brother placed."
He answered me: "Within there are tormented
  Ulysses and Diomed, and thus together
  They unto vengeance run as unto wrath.
And there within their flame do they lament
  The ambush of the horse, which made the door
  Whence issued forth the Romans' gentle seed;
Therein is wept the craft, for which being dead
  Deidamia still deplores Achilles,
  And pain for the Palladium there is borne."
"If they within those sparks possess the power
  To speak," I said, "thee, Master, much I pray,
  And re-pray, that the prayer be worth a thousand,
That thou make no denial of awaiting
  Until the horned flame shall hither come;
  Thou seest that with desire I lean towards it."
And he to me: "Worthy is thy entreaty
  Of much applause, and therefore I accept it;
  But take heed that thy tongue restrain itself.
Leave me to speak, because I have conceived
  That which thou wishest; for they might disdain
  Perchance, since they were Greeks, discourse of thine."
When now the flame had come unto that point,
  Where to my Leader it seemed time and place,
  After this fashion did I hear him speak:
"O ye, who are twofold within one fire,
  If I deserved of you, while I was living,
  If I deserved of you or much or little
When in the world I wrote the lofty verses,
  Do not move on, but one of you declare
  Whither, being lost, he went away to die."
Then of the antique flame the greater horn,
  Murmuring, began to wave itself about
  Even as a flame doth which the wind fatigues.
Thereafterward, the summit to and fro
  Moving as if it were the tongue that spake,
  It uttered forth a voice, and said: "When I
From Circe had departed, who concealed me
  More than a year there near unto Gaeta,
  Or ever yet Aeneas named it so,
Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence
  For my old father, nor the due affection
  Which joyous should have made Penelope,
Could overcome within me the desire
  I had to be experienced of the world,
  And of the vice and virtue of mankind;
But I put forth on the high open sea
  With one sole ship, and that small company
  By which I never had deserted been.
Both of the shores I saw as far as Spain,
  Far as Morocco, and the isle of Sardes,
  And the others which that sea bathes round about.
I and my company were old and slow
  When at that narrow passage we arrived
  Where Hercules his landmarks set as signals,
That man no farther onward should adventure.
  On the right hand behind me left I Seville,
  And on the other already had left Ceuta.
'O brothers, who amid a hundred thousand
  Perils,' I said, 'have come unto the West,
  To this so inconsiderable vigil
Which is remaining of your senses still
  Be ye unwilling to deny the knowledge,
  Following the sun, of the unpeopled world.
Consider ye the seed from which ye sprang;
  Ye were not made to live like unto brutes,
  But for pursuit of virtue and of knowledge.'
So eager did I render my companions,
  With this brief exhortation, for the voyage,
  That then I hardly could have held them back.
And having turned our stern unto the morning,
  We of the oars made wings for our mad flight,
  Evermore gaining on the larboard side.
Already all the stars of the other pole
  The night beheld, and ours so very low
  It did not rise above the ocean floor.
Five times rekindled and as many quenched
  Had been the splendour underneath the moon,
  Since we had entered into the deep pass,
When there appeared to us a mountain, dim
  From distance, and it seemed to me so high
  As I had never any one beheld.
Joyful were we, and soon it turned to weeping;
  For out of the new land a whirlwind rose,
  And smote upon the fore part of the ship.
Three times it made her whirl with all the waters,
  At the fourth time it made the stern uplift,
  And the prow downward go, as pleased Another,
Until the sea above us closed again."
Inferno: Canto XXVII
Already was the flame erect and quiet,
  To speak no more, and now departed from us
  With the permission of the gentle Poet;
When yet another, which behind it came,
  Caused us to turn our eyes upon its top
  By a confused sound that issued from it.
As the Sicilian bull (that bellowed first
  With the lament of him, and that was right,
  Who with his file had modulated it)
Bellowed so with the voice of the afflicted,
  That, notwithstanding it was made of brass,
  Still it appeared with agony transfixed;
Thus, by not having any way or issue
  At first from out the fire, to its own language
  Converted were the melancholy words.
But afterwards, when they had gathered way
  Up through the point, giving it that vibration
  The tongue had given them in their passage out,
We heard it said: "O thou, at whom I aim
  My voice, and who but now wast speaking Lombard,
  Saying, 'Now go thy way, no more I urge thee,'
Because I come perchance a little late,
  To stay and speak with me let it not irk thee;
  Thou seest it irks not me, and I am burning.
If thou but lately into this blind world
  Hast fallen down from that sweet Latian land,
  Wherefrom I bring the whole of my transgression,
Say, if the Romagnuols have peace or war,
  For I was from the mountains there between
  Urbino and the yoke whence Tiber bursts."
I still was downward bent and listening,
  When my Conductor touched me on the side,
  Saying: "Speak thou: this one a Latian is."
And I, who had beforehand my reply
  In readiness, forthwith began to speak:
  "O soul, that down below there art concealed,
Romagna thine is not and never has been
  Without war in the bosom of its tyrants;
  But open war I none have left there now.
Ravenna stands as it long years has stood;
  The Eagle of Polenta there is brooding,
  So that she covers Cervia with her vans.
The city which once made the long resistance,
  And of the French a sanguinary heap,
  Beneath the Green Paws finds itself again;
Verrucchio's ancient Mastiff and the new,
  Who made such bad disposal of Montagna,
  Where they are wont make wimbles of their teeth.
The cities of Lamone and Santerno
  Governs the Lioncel of the white lair,
  Who changes sides 'twixt summer-time and winter;
And that of which the Savio bathes the flank,
  Even as it lies between the plain and mountain,
  Lives between tyranny and a free state.
Now I entreat thee tell us who thou art;
  Be not more stubborn than the rest have been,
  So may thy name hold front there in the world."
After the fire a little more had roared
  In its own fashion, the sharp point it moved
  This way and that, and then gave forth such breath:
"If I believed that my reply were made
  To one who to the world would e'er return,
  This flame without more flickering would stand still;
But inasmuch as never from this depth
  Did any one return, if I hear true,
  Without the fear of infamy I answer,
I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,
  Believing thus begirt to make amends;
  And truly my belief had been fulfilled
But for the High Priest, whom may ill betide,
  Who put me back into my former sins;
  And how and wherefore I will have thee hear.
While I was still the form of bone and pulp
  My mother gave to me, the deeds I did
  Were not those of a lion, but a fox.
The machinations and the covert ways
  I knew them all, and practised so their craft,
  That to the ends of earth the sound went forth.
When now unto that portion of mine age
  I saw myself arrived, when each one ought
  To lower the sails, and coil away the ropes,
That which before had pleased me then displeased me;
  And penitent and confessing I surrendered,
  Ah woe is me! and it would have bestead me;
The Leader of the modern Pharisees
  Having a war near unto Lateran,
  And not with Saracens nor with the Jews,
For each one of his enemies was Christian,
  And none of them had been to conquer Acre,
  Nor merchandising in the Sultan's land,
Nor the high office, nor the sacred orders,
  In him regarded, nor in me that cord
  Which used to make those girt with it more meagre;
But even as Constantine sought out Sylvester
  To cure his leprosy, within Soracte,
  So this one sought me out as an adept
To cure him of the fever of his pride.
  Counsel he asked of me, and I was silent,
  Because his words appeared inebriate.
And then he said: 'Be not thy heart afraid;
  Henceforth I thee absolve; and thou instruct me
  How to raze Palestrina to the ground.
Heaven have I power to lock and to unlock,
  As thou dost know; therefore the keys are two,
  The which my predecessor held not dear.'
Then urged me on his weighty arguments
  There, where my silence was the worst advice;
  And said I: 'Father, since thou washest me
Of that sin into which I now must fall,
  The promise long with the fulfilment short
  Will make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'
Francis came afterward, when I was dead,
  For me; but one of the black Cherubim
  Said to him: 'Take him not; do me no wrong;
He must come down among my servitors,
  Because he gave the fraudulent advice
  From which time forth I have been at his hair;
For who repents not cannot be absolved,
  Nor can one both repent and will at once,
  Because of the contradiction which consents not.'
O miserable me! how I did shudder
  When he seized on me, saying: 'Peradventure
  Thou didst not think that I was a logician!'
He bore me unto Minos, who entwined
  Eight times his tail about his stubborn back,
  And after he had bitten it in great rage,
Said: 'Of the thievish fire a culprit this;'
  Wherefore, here where thou seest, am I lost,
  And vested thus in going I bemoan me."
When it had thus completed its recital,
  The flame departed uttering lamentations,
  Writhing and flapping its sharp-pointed horn.
Onward we passed, both I and my Conductor,
  Up o'er the crag above another arch,
  Which the moat covers, where is paid the fee
By those who, sowing discord, win their burden.
Inferno: Canto XXVIII
Who ever could, e'en with untrammelled words,
  Tell of the blood and of the wounds in full
  Which now I saw, by many times narrating?
Each tongue would for a certainty fall short
  By reason of our speech and memory,
  That have small room to comprehend so much.
If were again assembled all the people
  Which formerly upon the fateful land
  Of Puglia were lamenting for their blood
Shed by the Romans and the lingering war
  That of the rings made such illustrious spoils,
  As Livy has recorded, who errs not,
With those who felt the agony of blows
  By making counterstand to Robert Guiscard,
  And all the rest, whose bones are gathered still
At Ceperano, where a renegade
  Was each Apulian, and at Tagliacozzo,
  Where without arms the old Alardo conquered,
And one his limb transpierced, and one lopped off,
  Should show, it would be nothing to compare
  With the disgusting mode of the ninth Bolgia.
A cask by losing centre-piece or cant
  Was never shattered so, as I saw one
  Rent from the chin to where one breaketh wind.
Between his legs were hanging down his entrails;
  His heart was visible, and the dismal sack
  That maketh excrement of what is eaten.
While I was all absorbed in seeing him,
  He looked at me, and opened with his hands
  His bosom, saying: "See now how I rend me;
How mutilated, see, is Mahomet;
  In front of me doth Ali weeping go,
  Cleft in the face from forelock unto chin;
And all the others whom thou here beholdest,
  Disseminators of scandal and of schism
  While living were, and therefore are cleft thus.
A devil is behind here, who doth cleave us
  Thus cruelly, unto the falchion's edge
  Putting again each one of all this ream,
When we have gone around the doleful road;
  By reason that our wounds are closed again
  Ere any one in front of him repass.
But who art thou, that musest on the crag,
  Perchance to postpone going to the pain
  That is adjudged upon thine accusations?"
"Nor death hath reached him yet, nor guilt doth bring him,"
  My Master made reply, "to be tormented;
  But to procure him full experience,
Me, who am dead, behoves it to conduct him
  Down here through Hell, from circle unto circle;
  And this is true as that I speak to thee."
More than a hundred were there when they heard him,
  Who in the moat stood still to look at me,
  Through wonderment oblivious of their torture.
"Now say to Fra Dolcino, then, to arm him,
  Thou, who perhaps wilt shortly see the sun,
  If soon he wish not here to follow me,
So with provisions, that no stress of snow
  May give the victory to the Novarese,
  Which otherwise to gain would not be easy."
After one foot to go away he lifted,
  This word did Mahomet say unto me,
  Then to depart upon the ground he stretched it.
Another one, who had his throat pierced through,
  And nose cut off close underneath the brows,
  And had no longer but a single ear,
Staying to look in wonder with the others,
  Before the others did his gullet open,
  Which outwardly was red in every part,
And said: "O thou, whom guilt doth not condemn,
  And whom I once saw up in Latian land,
  Unless too great similitude deceive me,
Call to remembrance Pier da Medicina,
  If e'er thou see again the lovely plain
  That from Vercelli slopes to Marcabo,
And make it known to the best two of Fano,
  To Messer Guido and Angiolello likewise,
  That if foreseeing here be not in vain,
Cast over from their vessel shall they be,
  And drowned near unto the Cattolica,
  By the betrayal of a tyrant fell.
Between the isles of Cyprus and Majorca
  Neptune ne'er yet beheld so great a crime,
  Neither of pirates nor Argolic people.
That traitor, who sees only with one eye,
  And holds the land, which some one here with me
  Would fain be fasting from the vision of,
Will make them come unto a parley with him;
  Then will do so, that to Focara's wind
  They will not stand in need of vow or prayer."
And I to him: "Show to me and declare,
  If thou wouldst have me bear up news of thee,
  Who is this person of the bitter vision."
Then did he lay his hand upon the jaw
  Of one of his companions, and his mouth
  Oped, crying: "This is he, and he speaks not.
This one, being banished, every doubt submerged
  In Caesar by affirming the forearmed
  Always with detriment allowed delay."
O how bewildered unto me appeared,
  With tongue asunder in his windpipe slit,
  Curio, who in speaking was so bold!
And one, who both his hands dissevered had,
  The stumps uplifting through the murky air,
  So that the blood made horrible his face,
Cried out: "Thou shalt remember Mosca also,
  Who said, alas! 'A thing done has an end!'
  Which was an ill seed for the Tuscan people."
"And death unto thy race," thereto I added;
  Whence he, accumulating woe on woe,
  Departed, like a person sad and crazed.
But I remained to look upon the crowd;
  And saw a thing which I should be afraid,
  Without some further proof, even to recount,
If it were not that conscience reassures me,
  That good companion which emboldens man
  Beneath the hauberk of its feeling pure.
I truly saw, and still I seem to see it,
  A trunk without a head walk in like manner
  As walked the others of the mournful herd.
And by the hair it held the head dissevered,
  Hung from the hand in fashion of a lantern,
  And that upon us gazed and said: "O me!"
It of itself made to itself a lamp,
  And they were two in one, and one in two;
  How that can be, He knows who so ordains it.
When it was come close to the bridge's foot,
  It lifted high its arm with all the head,
  To bring more closely unto us its words,
Which were: "Behold now the sore penalty,
  Thou, who dost breathing go the dead beholding;
  Behold if any be as great as this.
And so that thou may carry news of me,
  Know that Bertram de Born am I, the same
  Who gave to the Young King the evil comfort.
I made the father and the son rebellious;
  Achitophel not more with Absalom
  And David did with his accursed goadings.
Because I parted persons so united,
  Parted do I now bear my brain, alas!
  From its beginning, which is in this trunk.
Thus is observed in me the counterpoise."
Inferno: Canto XXIX
The many people and the divers wounds
  These eyes of mine had so inebriated,
  That they were wishful to stand still and weep;
But said Virgilius: "What dost thou still gaze at?
  Why is thy sight still riveted down there
  Among the mournful, mutilated shades?
Thou hast not done so at the other Bolge;
  Consider, if to count them thou believest,
  That two-and-twenty miles the valley winds,
And now the moon is underneath our feet;
  Henceforth the time allotted us is brief,
  And more is to be seen than what thou seest."
"If thou hadst," I made answer thereupon,
  "Attended to the cause for which I looked,
  Perhaps a longer stay thou wouldst have pardoned."
Meanwhile my Guide departed, and behind him
  I went, already making my reply,
  And superadding: "In that cavern where
I held mine eyes with such attention fixed,
  I think a spirit of my blood laments
  The sin which down below there costs so much."
Then said the Master: "Be no longer broken
  Thy thought from this time forward upon him;
  Attend elsewhere, and there let him remain;
For him I saw below the little bridge,
  Pointing at thee, and threatening with his finger
  Fiercely, and heard him called Geri del Bello.
So wholly at that time wast thou impeded
  By him who formerly held Altaforte,
  Thou didst not look that way; so he departed."
"O my Conductor, his own violent death,
  Which is not yet avenged for him," I said,
  "By any who is sharer in the shame,
Made him disdainful; whence he went away,
  As I imagine, without speaking to me,
  And thereby made me pity him the more."
Thus did we speak as far as the first place
  Upon the crag, which the next valley shows
  Down to the bottom, if there were more light.
When we were now right over the last cloister
  Of Malebolge, so that its lay-brothers
  Could manifest themselves unto our sight,
Divers lamentings pierced me through and through,
  Which with compassion had their arrows barbed,
  Whereat mine ears I covered with my hands.
What pain would be, if from the hospitals
  Of Valdichiana, 'twixt July and September,
  And of Maremma and Sardinia
All the diseases in one moat were gathered,
  Such was it here, and such a stench came from it
  As from putrescent limbs is wont to issue.
We had descended on the furthest bank
  From the long crag, upon the left hand still,
  And then more vivid was my power of sight
Down tow'rds the bottom, where the ministress
  Of the high Lord, Justice infallible,
  Punishes forgers, which she here records.
I do not think a sadder sight to see
  Was in Aegina the whole people sick,
  (When was the air so full of pestilence,
The animals, down to the little worm,
  All fell, and afterwards the ancient people,
  According as the poets have affirmed,
Were from the seed of ants restored again,)
  Than was it to behold through that dark valley
  The spirits languishing in divers heaps.
This on the belly, that upon the back
  One of the other lay, and others crawling
  Shifted themselves along the dismal road.
We step by step went onward without speech,
  Gazing upon and listening to the sick
  Who had not strength enough to lift their bodies.
I saw two sitting leaned against each other,
  As leans in heating platter against platter,
  From head to foot bespotted o'er with scabs;
And never saw I plied a currycomb
  By stable-boy for whom his master waits,
  Or him who keeps awake unwillingly,
As every one was plying fast the bite
  Of nails upon himself, for the great rage
  Of itching which no other succour had.
And the nails downward with them dragged the scab,
  In fashion as a knife the scales of bream,
  Or any other fish that has them largest.
"O thou, that with thy fingers dost dismail thee,"
  Began my Leader unto one of them,
  "And makest of them pincers now and then,
Tell me if any Latian is with those
  Who are herein; so may thy nails suffice thee
  To all eternity unto this work."
"Latians are we, whom thou so wasted seest,
  Both of us here," one weeping made reply;
  "But who art thou, that questionest about us?"
And said the Guide: "One am I who descends
  Down with this living man from cliff to cliff,
  And I intend to show Hell unto him."
Then broken was their mutual support,
  And trembling each one turned himself to me,
  With others who had heard him by rebound.
Wholly to me did the good Master gather,
  Saying: "Say unto them whate'er thou wishest."
  And I began, since he would have it so:
"So may your memory not steal away
  In the first world from out the minds of men,
  But so may it survive 'neath many suns,
Say to me who ye are, and of what people;
  Let not your foul and loathsome punishment
  Make you afraid to show yourselves to me."
"I of Arezzo was," one made reply,
  "And Albert of Siena had me burned;
  But what I died for does not bring me here.
'Tis true I said to him, speaking in jest,
  That I could rise by flight into the air,
  And he who had conceit, but little wit,
Would have me show to him the art; and only
  Because no Daedalus I made him, made me
  Be burned by one who held him as his son.
But unto the last Bolgia of the ten,
  For alchemy, which in the world I practised,
  Minos, who cannot err, has me condemned."
And to the Poet said I: "Now was ever
  So vain a people as the Sienese?
  Not for a certainty the French by far."
Whereat the other leper, who had heard me,
  Replied unto my speech: "Taking out Stricca,
  Who knew the art of moderate expenses,
And Niccolo, who the luxurious use
  Of cloves discovered earliest of all
  Within that garden where such seed takes root;
And taking out the band, among whom squandered
  Caccia d'Ascian his vineyards and vast woods,
  And where his wit the Abbagliato proffered!
But, that thou know who thus doth second thee
  Against the Sienese, make sharp thine eye
  Tow'rds me, so that my face well answer thee,
And thou shalt see I am Capocchio's shade,
  Who metals falsified by alchemy;
  Thou must remember, if I well descry thee,
How I a skilful ape of nature was."
Inferno: Canto XXX
'Twas at the time when Juno was enraged,
  For Semele, against the Theban blood,
  As she already more than once had shown,
So reft of reason Athamas became,
  That, seeing his own wife with children twain
  Walking encumbered upon either hand,
He cried: "Spread out the nets, that I may take
  The lioness and her whelps upon the passage;"
  And then extended his unpitying claws,
Seizing the first, who had the name Learchus,
  And whirled him round, and dashed him on a rock;
  And she, with the other burthen, drowned herself;--
And at the time when fortune downward hurled
  The Trojan's arrogance, that all things dared,
  So that the king was with his kingdom crushed,
Hecuba sad, disconsolate, and captive,
  When lifeless she beheld Polyxena,
  And of her Polydorus on the shore
Of ocean was the dolorous one aware,
  Out of her senses like a dog she barked,
  So much the anguish had her mind distorted;
But not of Thebes the furies nor the Trojan
  Were ever seen in any one so cruel
  In goading beasts, and much more human members,
As I beheld two shadows pale and naked,
  Who, biting, in the manner ran along
  That a boar does, when from the sty turned loose.
One to Capocchio came, and by the nape
  Seized with its teeth his neck, so that in dragging
  It made his belly grate the solid bottom.
And the Aretine, who trembling had remained,
  Said to me: "That mad sprite is Gianni Schicchi,
  And raving goes thus harrying other people."
"O," said I to him, "so may not the other
  Set teeth on thee, let it not weary thee
  To tell us who it is, ere it dart hence."
And he to me: "That is the ancient ghost
  Of the nefarious Myrrha, who became
  Beyond all rightful love her father's lover.
She came to sin with him after this manner,
  By counterfeiting of another's form;
  As he who goeth yonder undertook,
That he might gain the lady of the herd,
  To counterfeit in himself Buoso Donati,
  Making a will and giving it due form."
And after the two maniacs had passed
  On whom I held mine eye, I turned it back
  To look upon the other evil-born.
I saw one made in fashion of a lute,
  If he had only had the groin cut off
  Just at the point at which a man is forked.
The heavy dropsy, that so disproportions
  The limbs with humours, which it ill concocts,
  That the face corresponds not to the belly,
Compelled him so to hold his lips apart
  As does the hectic, who because of thirst
  One tow'rds the chin, the other upward turns.
"O ye, who without any torment are,
  And why I know not, in the world of woe,"
  He said to us, "behold, and be attentive
Unto the misery of Master Adam;
  I had while living much of what I wished,
  And now, alas! a drop of water crave.
The rivulets, that from the verdant hills
  Of Cassentin descend down into Arno,
  Making their channels to be cold and moist,
Ever before me stand, and not in vain;
  For far more doth their image dry me up
  Than the disease which strips my face of flesh.
The rigid justice that chastises me
  Draweth occasion from the place in which
  I sinned, to put the more my sighs in flight.
There is Romena, where I counterfeited
  The currency imprinted with the Baptist,
  For which I left my body burned above.
But if I here could see the tristful soul
  Of Guido, or Alessandro, or their brother,
  For Branda's fount I would not give the sight.
One is within already, if the raving
  Shades that are going round about speak truth;
  But what avails it me, whose limbs are tied?
If I were only still so light, that in
  A hundred years I could advance one inch,
  I had already started on the way,
Seeking him out among this squalid folk,
  Although the circuit be eleven miles,
  And be not less than half a mile across.
For them am I in such a family;
  They did induce me into coining florins,
  Which had three carats of impurity."
And I to him: "Who are the two poor wretches
  That smoke like unto a wet hand in winter,
  Lying there close upon thy right-hand confines?"
"I found them here," replied he, "when I rained
  Into this chasm, and since they have not turned,
  Nor do I think they will for evermore.
One the false woman is who accused Joseph,
  The other the false Sinon, Greek of Troy;
  From acute fever they send forth such reek."
And one of them, who felt himself annoyed
  At being, peradventure, named so darkly,
  Smote with the fist upon his hardened paunch.
It gave a sound, as if it were a drum;
  And Master Adam smote him in the face,
  With arm that did not seem to be less hard,
Saying to him: "Although be taken from me
  All motion, for my limbs that heavy are,
  I have an arm unfettered for such need."
Whereat he answer made: "When thou didst go
  Unto the fire, thou hadst it not so ready:
  But hadst it so and more when thou wast coining."
The dropsical: "Thou sayest true in that;
  But thou wast not so true a witness there,
  Where thou wast questioned of the truth at Troy."
"If I spake false, thou falsifiedst the coin,"
  Said Sinon; "and for one fault I am here,
  And thou for more than any other demon."
"Remember, perjurer, about the horse,"
  He made reply who had the swollen belly,
  "And rueful be it thee the whole world knows it."
"Rueful to thee the thirst be wherewith cracks
  Thy tongue," the Greek said, "and the putrid water
  That hedges so thy paunch before thine eyes."
Then the false-coiner: "So is gaping wide
  Thy mouth for speaking evil, as 'tis wont;
  Because if I have thirst, and humour stuff me
Thou hast the burning and the head that aches,
  And to lick up the mirror of Narcissus
  Thou wouldst not want words many to invite thee."
In listening to them was I wholly fixed,
  When said the Master to me: "Now just look,
  For little wants it that I quarrel with thee."
When him I heard in anger speak to me,
  I turned me round towards him with such shame
  That still it eddies through my memory.
And as he is who dreams of his own harm,
  Who dreaming wishes it may be a dream,
  So that he craves what is, as if it were not;
Such I became, not having power to speak,
  For to excuse myself I wished, and still
  Excused myself, and did not think I did it.
"Less shame doth wash away a greater fault,"
  The Master said, "than this of thine has been;
  Therefore thyself disburden of all sadness,
And make account that I am aye beside thee,
  If e'er it come to pass that fortune bring thee
  Where there are people in a like dispute;
For a base wish it is to wish to hear it."
Inferno: Canto XXXI
One and the selfsame tongue first wounded me,
  So that it tinged the one cheek and the other,
  And then held out to me the medicine;
Thus do I hear that once Achilles' spear,
  His and his father's, used to be the cause
  First of a sad and then a gracious boon.
We turned our backs upon the wretched valley,
  Upon the bank that girds it round about,
  Going across it without any speech.
There it was less than night, and less than day,
  So that my sight went little in advance;
  But I could hear the blare of a loud horn,
So loud it would have made each thunder faint,
  Which, counter to it following its way,
  Mine eyes directed wholly to one place.
After the dolorous discomfiture
  When Charlemagne the holy emprise lost,
  So terribly Orlando sounded not.
Short while my head turned thitherward I held
  When many lofty towers I seemed to see,
  Whereat I: "Master, say, what town is this?"
And he to me: "Because thou peerest forth
  Athwart the darkness at too great a distance,
  It happens that thou errest in thy fancy.
Well shalt thou see, if thou arrivest there,
  How much the sense deceives itself by distance;
  Therefore a little faster spur thee on."
Then tenderly he took me by the hand,
  And said: "Before we farther have advanced,
  That the reality may seem to thee
Less strange, know that these are not towers, but giants,
  And they are in the well, around the bank,
  From navel downward, one and all of them."
As, when the fog is vanishing away,
  Little by little doth the sight refigure
  Whate'er the mist that crowds the air conceals,
So, piercing through the dense and darksome air,
  More and more near approaching tow'rd the verge,
  My error fled, and fear came over me;
Because as on its circular parapets
  Montereggione crowns itself with towers,
  E'en thus the margin which surrounds the well
With one half of their bodies turreted
  The horrible giants, whom Jove menaces
  E'en now from out the heavens when he thunders.
And I of one already saw the face,
  Shoulders, and breast, and great part of the belly,
  And down along his sides both of the arms.
Certainly Nature, when she left the making
  Of animals like these, did well indeed,
  By taking such executors from Mars;
And if of elephants and whales she doth not
  Repent her, whosoever looketh subtly
  More just and more discreet will hold her for it;
For where the argument of intellect
  Is added unto evil will and power,
  No rampart can the people make against it.
His face appeared to me as long and large
  As is at Rome the pine-cone of Saint Peter's,
  And in proportion were the other bones;
So that the margin, which an apron was
  Down from the middle, showed so much of him
  Above it, that to reach up to his hair
Three Frieslanders in vain had vaunted them;
  For I beheld thirty great palms of him
  Down from the place where man his mantle buckles.
"Raphael mai amech izabi almi,"
  Began to clamour the ferocious mouth,
  To which were not befitting sweeter psalms.
And unto him my Guide: "Soul idiotic,
  Keep to thy horn, and vent thyself with that,
  When wrath or other passion touches thee.
Search round thy neck, and thou wilt find the belt
  Which keeps it fastened, O bewildered soul,
  And see it, where it bars thy mighty breast."
Then said to me: "He doth himself accuse;
  This one is Nimrod, by whose evil thought
  One language in the world is not still used.
Here let us leave him and not speak in vain;
  For even such to him is every language
  As his to others, which to none is known."
Therefore a longer journey did we make,
  Turned to the left, and a crossbow-shot oft
  We found another far more fierce and large.
In binding him, who might the master be
  I cannot say; but he had pinioned close
  Behind the right arm, and in front the other,
With chains, that held him so begirt about
  From the neck down, that on the part uncovered
  It wound itself as far as the fifth gyre.
"This proud one wished to make experiment
  Of his own power against the Supreme Jove,"
  My Leader said, "whence he has such a guerdon.
Ephialtes is his name; he showed great prowess.
  What time the giants terrified the gods;
  The arms he wielded never more he moves."
And I to him: "If possible, I should wish
  That of the measureless Briareus
  These eyes of mine might have experience."
Whence he replied: "Thou shalt behold Antaeus
  Close by here, who can speak and is unbound,
  Who at the bottom of all crime shall place us.
Much farther yon is he whom thou wouldst see,
  And he is bound, and fashioned like to this one,
  Save that he seems in aspect more ferocious."
There never was an earthquake of such might
  That it could shake a tower so violently,
  As Ephialtes suddenly shook himself.
Then was I more afraid of death than ever,
  For nothing more was needful than the fear,
  If I had not beheld the manacles.
Then we proceeded farther in advance,
  And to Antaeus came, who, full five ells
  Without the head, forth issued from the cavern.
"O thou, who in the valley fortunate,
  Which Scipio the heir of glory made,
  When Hannibal turned back with all his hosts,
Once brought'st a thousand lions for thy prey,
  And who, hadst thou been at the mighty war
  Among thy brothers, some it seems still think
The sons of Earth the victory would have gained:
  Place us below, nor be disdainful of it,
  There where the cold doth lock Cocytus up.
Make us not go to Tityus nor Typhoeus;
  This one can give of that which here is longed for;
  Therefore stoop down, and do not curl thy lip.
Still in the world can he restore thy fame;
  Because he lives, and still expects long life,
  If to itself Grace call him not untimely."
So said the Master; and in haste the other
  His hands extended and took up my Guide,--
  Hands whose great pressure Hercules once felt.
Virgilius, when he felt himself embraced,
  Said unto me: "Draw nigh, that I may take thee;"
  Then of himself and me one bundle made.
As seems the Carisenda, to behold
  Beneath the leaning side, when goes a cloud
  Above it so that opposite it hangs;
Such did Antaeus seem to me, who stood
  Watching to see him stoop, and then it was
  I could have wished to go some other way.
But lightly in the abyss, which swallows up
  Judas with Lucifer, he put us down;
  Nor thus bowed downward made he there delay,
But, as a mast does in a ship, uprose.
Inferno: Canto XXXII
If I had rhymes both rough and stridulous,
  As were appropriate to the dismal hole
  Down upon which thrust all the other rocks,
I would press out the juice of my conception
  More fully; but because I have them not,
  Not without fear I bring myself to speak;
For 'tis no enterprise to take in jest,
  To sketch the bottom of all the universe,
  Nor for a tongue that cries Mamma and Babbo.
But may those Ladies help this verse of mine,
  Who helped Amphion in enclosing Thebes,
  That from the fact the word be not diverse.
O rabble ill-begotten above all,
  Who're in the place to speak of which is hard,
  'Twere better ye had here been sheep or goats!
When we were down within the darksome well,
  Beneath the giant's feet, but lower far,
  And I was scanning still the lofty wall,
I heard it said to me: "Look how thou steppest!
  Take heed thou do not trample with thy feet
  The heads of the tired, miserable brothers!"
Whereat I turned me round, and saw before me
  And underfoot a lake, that from the frost
  The semblance had of glass, and not of water.
So thick a veil ne'er made upon its current
  In winter-time Danube in Austria,
  Nor there beneath the frigid sky the Don,
As there was here; so that if Tambernich
  Had fallen upon it, or Pietrapana,
  E'en at the edge 'twould not have given a creak.
And as to croak the frog doth place himself
  With muzzle out of water,--when is dreaming
  Of gleaning oftentimes the peasant-girl,--
Livid, as far down as where shame appears,
  Were the disconsolate shades within the ice,
  Setting their teeth unto the note of storks.
Each one his countenance held downward bent;
  From mouth the cold, from eyes the doleful heart
  Among them witness of itself procures.
When round about me somewhat I had looked,
  I downward turned me, and saw two so close,
  The hair upon their heads together mingled.
"Ye who so strain your breasts together, tell me,"
  I said, "who are you;" and they bent their necks,
  And when to me their faces they had lifted,
Their eyes, which first were only moist within,
  Gushed o'er the eyelids, and the frost congealed
  The tears between, and locked them up again.
Clamp never bound together wood with wood
  So strongly; whereat they, like two he-goats,
  Butted together, so much wrath o'ercame them.
And one, who had by reason of the cold
  Lost both his ears, still with his visage downward,
  Said: "Why dost thou so mirror thyself in us?
If thou desire to know who these two are,
  The valley whence Bisenzio descends
  Belonged to them and to their father Albert.
They from one body came, and all Caina
  Thou shalt search through, and shalt not find a shade
  More worthy to be fixed in gelatine;
Not he in whom were broken breast and shadow
  At one and the same blow by Arthur's hand;
  Focaccia not; not he who me encumbers
So with his head I see no farther forward,
  And bore the name of Sassol Mascheroni;
  Well knowest thou who he was, if thou art Tuscan.
And that thou put me not to further speech,
  Know that I Camicion de' Pazzi was,
  And wait Carlino to exonerate me."
Then I beheld a thousand faces, made
  Purple with cold; whence o'er me comes a shudder,
  And evermore will come, at frozen ponds.
And while we were advancing tow'rds the middle,
  Where everything of weight unites together,
  And I was shivering in the eternal shade,
Whether 'twere will, or destiny, or chance,
  I know not; but in walking 'mong the heads
  I struck my foot hard in the face of one.
Weeping he growled: "Why dost thou trample me?
  Unless thou comest to increase the vengeance
  of Montaperti, why dost thou molest me?"
And I: "My Master, now wait here for me,
  That I through him may issue from a doubt;
  Then thou mayst hurry me, as thou shalt wish."
The Leader stopped; and to that one I said
  Who was blaspheming vehemently still:
  "Who art thou, that thus reprehendest others?"
"Now who art thou, that goest through Antenora
  Smiting," replied he, "other people's cheeks,
  So that, if thou wert living, 'twere too much?"
"Living I am, and dear to thee it may be,"
  Was my response, "if thou demandest fame,
  That 'mid the other notes thy name I place."
And he to me: "For the reverse I long;
  Take thyself hence, and give me no more trouble;
  For ill thou knowest to flatter in this hollow."
Then by the scalp behind I seized upon him,
  And said: "It must needs be thou name thyself,
  Or not a hair remain upon thee here."
Whence he to me: "Though thou strip off my hair,
  I will not tell thee who I am, nor show thee,
  If on my head a thousand times thou fall."
I had his hair in hand already twisted,
  And more than one shock of it had pulled out,
  He barking, with his eyes held firmly down,
When cried another: "What doth ail thee, Bocca?
  Is't not enough to clatter with thy jaws,
  But thou must bark? what devil touches thee?"
"Now," said I, "I care not to have thee speak,
  Accursed traitor; for unto thy shame
  I will report of thee veracious news."
"Begone," replied he, "and tell what thou wilt,
  But be not silent, if thou issue hence,
  Of him who had just now his tongue so prompt;
He weepeth here the silver of the French;
  'I saw,' thus canst thou phrase it, 'him of Duera
  There where the sinners stand out in the cold.'
If thou shouldst questioned be who else was there,
  Thou hast beside thee him of Beccaria,
  Of whom the gorget Florence slit asunder;
Gianni del Soldanier, I think, may be
  Yonder with Ganellon, and Tebaldello
  Who oped Faenza when the people slep."
Already we had gone away from him,
  When I beheld two frozen in one hole,
  So that one head a hood was to the other;
And even as bread through hunger is devoured,
  The uppermost on the other set his teeth,
  There where the brain is to the nape united.
Not in another fashion Tydeus gnawed
  The temples of Menalippus in disdain,
  Than that one did the skull and the other things.
"O thou, who showest by such bestial sign
  Thy hatred against him whom thou art eating,
  Tell me the wherefore," said I, "with this compact,
That if thou rightfully of him complain,
  In knowing who ye are, and his transgression,
  I in the world above repay thee for it,
If that wherewith I speak be not dried up."
Inferno: Canto XXXIII
His mouth uplifted from his grim repast,
  That sinner, wiping it upon the hair
  Of the same head that he behind had wasted.
Then he began: "Thou wilt that I renew
  The desperate grief, which wrings my heart already
  To think of only, ere I speak of it;
But if my words be seed that may bear fruit
  Of infamy to the traitor whom I gnaw,
  Speaking and weeping shalt thou see together.
I know not who thou art, nor by what mode
  Thou hast come down here; but a Florentine
  Thou seemest to me truly, when I hear thee.
Thou hast to know I was Count Ugolino,
  And this one was Ruggieri the Archbishop;
  Now I will tell thee why I am such a neighbour.
That, by effect of his malicious thoughts,
  Trusting in him I was made prisoner,
  And after put to death, I need not say;
 But ne'ertheless what thou canst not have heard,
  That is to say, how cruel was my death,
  Hear shalt thou, and shalt know if he has wronged me.
A narrow perforation in the mew,
  Which bears because of me the title of Famine,
  And in which others still must be locked up,
Had shown me through its opening many moons
  Already, when I dreamed the evil dream
  Which of the future rent for me the veil.
This one appeared to me as lord and master,
  Hunting the wolf and whelps upon the mountain
  For which the Pisans cannot Lucca see.
With sleuth-hounds gaunt, and eager, and well trained,
  Gualandi with Sismondi and Lanfianchi
  He had sent out before him to the front.
After brief course seemed unto me forespent
  The father and the sons, and with sharp tushes
  It seemed to me I saw their flanks ripped open.
When I before the morrow was awake,
  Moaning amid their sleep I heard my sons
  Who with me were, and asking after bread.
Cruel indeed art thou, if yet thou grieve not,
  Thinking of what my heart foreboded me,
  And weep'st thou not, what art thou wont to weep at?
They were awake now, and the hour drew nigh
  At which our food used to be brought to us,
  And through his dream was each one apprehensive;
And I heard locking up the under door
  Of the horrible tower; whereat without a word
  I gazed into the faces of my sons.
I wept not, I within so turned to stone;
  They wept; and darling little Anselm mine
  Said: 'Thou dost gaze so, father, what doth ail thee?'
Still not a tear I shed, nor answer made
  All of that day, nor yet the night thereafter,
  Until another sun rose on the world.
As now a little glimmer made its way
  Into the dolorous prison, and I saw
  Upon four faces my own very aspect,
Both of my hands in agony I bit;
  And, thinking that I did it from desire
  Of eating, on a sudden they uprose,
And said they: 'Father, much less pain 'twill give us
  If thou do eat of us; thyself didst clothe us
  With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off.'
I calmed me then, not to make them more sad.
  That day we all were silent, and the next.
  Ah! obdurate earth, wherefore didst thou not open?
When we had come unto the fourth day, Gaddo
  Threw himself down outstretched before my feet,
  Saying, 'My father, why dost thou not help me?'
And there he died; and, as thou seest me,
  I saw the three fall, one by one, between
  The fifth day and the sixth; whence I betook me,
Already blind, to groping over each,
  And three days called them after they were dead;
  Then hunger did what sorrow could not do."
When he had said this, with his eyes distorted,
  The wretched skull resumed he with his teeth,
  Which, as a dog's, upon the bone were strong.
Ah! Pisa, thou opprobrium of the people
  Of the fair land there where the 'Si' doth sound,
  Since slow to punish thee thy neighbours are,
Let the Capraia and Gorgona move,
  And make a hedge across the mouth of Arno
  That every person in thee it may drown!
For if Count Ugolino had the fame
  Of having in thy castles thee betrayed,
  Thou shouldst not on such cross have put his sons.
Guiltless of any crime, thou modern Thebes!
  Their youth made Uguccione and Brigata,
  And the other two my song doth name above!
We passed still farther onward, where the ice
  Another people ruggedly enswathes,
  Not downward turned, but all of them reversed.
Weeping itself there does not let them weep,
  And grief that finds a barrier in the eyes
  Turns itself inward to increase the anguish;
Because the earliest tears a cluster form,
  And, in the manner of a crystal visor,
  Fill all the cup beneath the eyebrow full.
And notwithstanding that, as in a callus,
  Because of cold all sensibility
  Its station had abandoned in my face,
Still it appeared to me I felt some wind;
  Whence I: "My Master, who sets this in motion?
  Is not below here every vapour quenched?"
Whence he to me: "Full soon shalt thou be where
  Thine eye shall answer make to thee of this,
  Seeing the cause which raineth down the blast."
And one of the wretches of the frozen crust
  Cried out to us: "O souls so merciless
  That the last post is given unto you,
Lift from mine eyes the rigid veils, that I
  May vent the sorrow which impregns my heart
  A little, e'er the weeping recongeal."
Whence I to him: "If thou wouldst have me help thee
  Say who thou wast; and if I free thee not,
  May I go to the bottom of the ice."
Then he replied: "I am Friar Alberigo;
  He am I of the fruit of the bad garden,
  Who here a date am getting for my fig."
"O," said I to him, "now art thou, too, dead?"
  And he to me: "How may my body fare
  Up in the world, no knowledge I possess.
Such an advantage has this Ptolomaea,
  That oftentimes the soul descendeth here
  Sooner than Atropos in motion sets it.
And, that thou mayest more willingly remove
  From off my countenance these glassy tears,
  Know that as soon as any soul betrays
As I have done, his body by a demon
  Is taken from him, who thereafter rules it,
  Until his time has wholly been revolved.
Itself down rushes into such a cistern;
  And still perchance above appears the body
  Of yonder shade, that winters here behind me.
This thou shouldst know, if thou hast just come down;
  It is Ser Branca d' Oria, and many years
  Have passed away since he was thus locked up."
"I think," said I to him, "thou dost deceive me;
  For Branca d' Oria is not dead as yet,
  And eats, and drinks, and sleeps, and puts on clothes."
"In moat above," said he, "of Malebranche,
  There where is boiling the tenacious pitch,
  As yet had Michel Zanche not arrived,
When this one left a devil in his stead
  In his own body and one near of kin,
  Who made together with him the betrayal.
But hitherward stretch out thy hand forthwith,
  Open mine eyes;"--and open them I did not,
  And to be rude to him was courtesy.
Ah, Genoese! ye men at variance
  With every virtue, full of every vice
  Wherefore are ye not scattered from the world?
For with the vilest spirit of Romagna
  I found of you one such, who for his deeds
  In soul already in Cocytus bathes,
And still above in body seems alive!
Inferno: Canto XXXIV
"'Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni'
  Towards us; therefore look in front of thee,"
  My Master said, "if thou discernest him."
As, when there breathes a heavy fog, or when
  Our hemisphere is darkening into night,
  Appears far off a mill the wind is turning,
Methought that such a building then I saw;
  And, for the wind, I drew myself behind
  My Guide, because there was no other shelter.
Now was I, and with fear in verse I put it,
  There where the shades were wholly covered up,
  And glimmered through like unto straws in glass.
Some prone are lying, others stand erect,
  This with the head, and that one with the soles;
  Another, bow-like, face to feet inverts.
When in advance so far we had proceeded,
  That it my Master pleased to show to me
  The creature who once had the beauteous semblance,
He from before me moved and made me stop,
  Saying: "Behold Dis, and behold the place
  Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself."
How frozen I became and powerless then,
  Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not,
  Because all language would be insufficient.
I did not die, and I alive remained not;
  Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit,
  What I became, being of both deprived.
The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous
  From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice;
  And better with a giant I compare
Than do the giants with those arms of his;
  Consider now how great must be that whole,
  Which unto such a part conforms itself.
Were he as fair once, as he now is foul,
  And lifted up his brow against his Maker,
  Well may proceed from him all tribulation.
O, what a marvel it appeared to me,
  When I beheld three faces on his head!
  The one in front, and that vermilion was;
Two were the others, that were joined with this
  Above the middle part of either shoulder,
  And they were joined together at the crest;
And the right-hand one seemed 'twixt white and yellow;
  The left was such to look upon as those
  Who come from where the Nile falls valley-ward.
Underneath each came forth two mighty wings,
  Such as befitting were so great a bird;
  Sails of the sea I never saw so large.
 No feathers had they, but as of a bat
  Their fashion was; and he was waving them,
  So that three winds proceeded forth therefrom.
Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed.
  With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins
  Trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel.
At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching
  A sinner, in the manner of a brake,
  So that he three of them tormented thus.
To him in front the biting was as naught
  Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine
  Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.
"That soul up there which has the greatest pain,"
  The Master said, "is Judas Iscariot;
  With head inside, he plies his legs without.
Of the two others, who head downward are,
  The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus;
  See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.
And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius.
  But night is reascending, and 'tis time
  That we depart, for we have seen the whole."
As seemed him good, I clasped him round the neck,
  And he the vantage seized of time and place,
  And when the wings were opened wide apart,
He laid fast hold upon the shaggy sides;
  From fell to fell descended downward then
  Between the thick hair and the frozen crust.
When we were come to where the thigh revolves
  Exactly on the thickness of the haunch,
  The Guide, with labour and with hard-drawn breath,
Turned round his head where he had had his legs,
  And grappled to the hair, as one who mounts,
  So that to Hell I thought we were returning.
"Keep fast thy hold, for by such stairs as these,"
  The Master said, panting as one fatigued,
  "Must we perforce depart from so much evil."
Then through the opening of a rock he issued,
  And down upon the margin seated me;
  Then tow'rds me he outstretched his wary step.
I lifted up mine eyes and thought to see
  Lucifer in the same way I had left him;
  And I beheld him upward hold his legs.
And if I then became disquieted,
  Let stolid people think who do not see
  What the point is beyond which I had passed.
"Rise up," the Master said, "upon thy feet;
  The way is long, and difficult the road,
  And now the sun to middle-tierce returns."
It was not any palace corridor
  There where we were, but dungeon natural,
  With floor uneven and unease of light.
"Ere from the abyss I tear myself away,
  My Master," said I when I had arisen,
  "To draw me from an error speak a little;
Where is the ice? and how is this one fixed
  Thus upside down? and how in such short time
  From eve to morn has the sun made his transit?"
And he to me: "Thou still imaginest
  Thou art beyond the centre, where I grasped
  The hair of the fell worm, who mines the world.
That side thou wast, so long as I descended;
  When round I turned me, thou didst pass the point
  To which things heavy draw from every side,
And now beneath the hemisphere art come
  Opposite that which overhangs the vast
  Dry-land, and 'neath whose cope was put to death
The Man who without sin was born and lived.
  Thou hast thy feet upon the little sphere
  Which makes the other face of the Judecca.
Here it is morn when it is evening there;
  And he who with his hair a stairway made us
  Still fixed remaineth as he was before.
Upon this side he fell down out of heaven;
  And all the land, that whilom here emerged,
  For fear of him made of the sea a veil,
And came to our hemisphere; and peradventure
  To flee from him, what on this side appears
  Left the place vacant here, and back recoiled."
A place there is below, from Beelzebub
  As far receding as the tomb extends,
  Which not by sight is known, but by the sound
Of a small rivulet, that there descendeth
  Through chasm within the stone, which it has gnawed
  With course that winds about and slightly falls.
The Guide and I into that hidden road
  Now entered, to return to the bright world;
  And without care of having any rest
We mounted up, he first and I the second,
  Till I beheld through a round aperture
  Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;
Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.
The Divine Comedy
translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(e-text courtesy ILT's Digital Dante Project)
Purgatorio: Canto I
To run o'er better waters hoists its sail
  The little vessel of my genius now,
  That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel;
And of that second kingdom will I sing
  Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself,
  And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy.
But let dead Poesy here rise again,
  O holy Muses, since that I am yours,
  And here Calliope somewhat ascend,
My song accompanying with that sound,
  Of which the miserable magpies felt
  The blow so great, that they despaired of pardon.
Sweet colour of the oriental sapphire,
  That was upgathered in the cloudless aspect
  Of the pure air, as far as the first circle,
Unto mine eyes did recommence delight
  Soon as I issued forth from the dead air,
  Which had with sadness filled mine eyes and breast.
The beauteous planet, that to love incites,
  Was making all the orient to laugh,
  Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort.
To the right hand I turned, and fixed my mind
  Upon the other pole, and saw four stars
  Ne'er seen before save by the primal people.
Rejoicing in their flamelets seemed the heaven.
  O thou septentrional and widowed site,
  Because thou art deprived of seeing these!
When from regarding them I had withdrawn,
  Turning a little to the other pole,
  There where the Wain had disappeared already,
I saw beside me an old man alone,
  Worthy of so much reverence in his look,
  That more owes not to father any son.
A long beard and with white hair intermingled
  He wore, in semblance like unto the tresses,
  Of which a double list fell on his breast.
The rays of the four consecrated stars
  Did so adorn his countenance with light,
  That him I saw as were the sun before him.
"Who are you? ye who, counter the blind river,
  Have fled away from the eternal prison?"
  Moving those venerable plumes, he said:
"Who guided you? or who has been your lamp
  In issuing forth out of the night profound,
  That ever black makes the infernal valley?
The laws of the abyss, are they thus broken?
  Or is there changed in heaven some council new,
  That being damned ye come unto my crags?"
Then did my Leader lay his grasp upon me,
  And with his words, and with his hands and signs,
  Reverent he made in me my knees and brow;
Then answered him: "I came not of myself;
  A Lady from Heaven descended, at whose prayers
  I aided this one with my company.
But since it is thy will more be unfolded
  Of our condition, how it truly is,
  Mine cannot be that this should be denied thee.
This one has never his last evening seen,
  But by his folly was so near to it
  That very little time was there to turn.
As I have said, I unto him was sent
  To rescue him, and other way was none
  Than this to which I have myself betaken.
I've shown him all the people of perdition,
  And now those spirits I intend to show
  Who purge themselves beneath thy guardianship.
How I have brought him would be long to tell thee.
  Virtue descendeth from on high that aids me
  To lead him to behold thee and to hear thee.
Now may it please thee to vouchsafe his coming;
  He seeketh Liberty, which is so dear,
  As knoweth he who life for her refuses.
Thou know'st it; since, for her, to thee not bitter
  Was death in Utica, where thou didst leave
  The vesture, that will shine so, the great day.
By us the eternal edicts are not broken;
  Since this one lives, and Minos binds not me;
  But of that circle I, where are the chaste
Eyes of thy Marcia, who in looks still prays thee,
  O holy breast, to hold her as thine own;
  For her love, then, incline thyself to us.
Permit us through thy sevenfold realm to go;
  I will take back this grace from thee to her,
  If to be mentioned there below thou deignest."
"Marcia so pleasing was unto mine eyes
  While I was on the other side," then said he,
  "That every grace she wished of me I granted;
Now that she dwells beyond the evil river,
  She can no longer move me, by that law
  Which, when I issued forth from there, was made.
But if a Lady of Heaven do move and rule thee,
  As thou dost say, no flattery is needful;
  Let it suffice thee that for her thou ask me.
Go, then, and see thou gird this one about
  With a smooth rush, and that thou wash his face,
  So that thou cleanse away all stain therefrom,
For 'twere not fitting that the eye o'ercast
  By any mist should go before the first
  Angel, who is of those of Paradise.
This little island round about its base
  Below there, yonder, where the billow beats it,
  Doth rushes bear upon its washy ooze;
No other plant that putteth forth the leaf,
  Or that doth indurate, can there have life,
  Because it yieldeth not unto the shocks.
Thereafter be not this way your return;
  The sun, which now is rising, will direct you
  To take the mount by easier ascent."
With this he vanished; and I raised me up
  Without a word, and wholly drew myself
  Unto my Guide, and turned mine eyes to him.
And he began: "Son, follow thou my steps;
  Let us turn back, for on this side declines
  The plain unto its lower boundaries."
The dawn was vanquishing the matin hour
  Which fled before it, so that from afar
  I recognised the trembling of the sea.
Along the solitary plain we went
  As one who unto the lost road returns,
  And till he finds it seems to go in vain.
As soon as we were come to where the dew
  Fights with the sun, and, being in a part
  Where shadow falls, little evaporates,
Both of his hands upon the grass outspread
  In gentle manner did my Master place;
  Whence I, who of his action was aware,
Extended unto him my tearful cheeks;
  There did he make in me uncovered wholly
  That hue which Hell had covered up in me.
Then came we down upon the desert shore
  Which never yet saw navigate its waters
  Any that afterward had known return.
There he begirt me as the other pleased;
  O marvellous! for even as he culled
  The humble plant, such it sprang up again
Suddenly there where he uprooted it.
Purgatorio: Canto II
Already had the sun the horizon reached
  Whose circle of meridian covers o'er
  Jerusalem with its most lofty point,
And night that opposite to him revolves
  Was issuing forth from Ganges with the Scales
  That fall from out her hand when she exceedeth;
So that the white and the vermilion cheeks
  Of beautiful Aurora, where I was,
  By too great age were changing into orange.
We still were on the border of the sea,
  Like people who are thinking of their road,
  Who go in heart and with the body stay;
And lo! as when, upon the approach of morning,
  Through the gross vapours Mars grows fiery red
  Down in the West upon the ocean floor,
Appeared to me--may I again behold it!--
  A light along the sea so swiftly coming,
  Its motion by no flight of wing is equalled;
From which when I a little had withdrawn
  Mine eyes, that I might question my Conductor,
  Again I saw it brighter grown and larger.
Then on each side of it appeared to me
  I knew not what of white, and underneath it
  Little by little there came forth another.
My Master yet had uttered not a word
  While the first whiteness into wings unfolded;
  But when he clearly recognised the pilot,
He cried: "Make haste, make haste to bow the knee!
  Behold the Angel of God! fold thou thy hands!
  Henceforward shalt thou see such officers!
See how he scorneth human arguments,
  So that nor oar he wants, nor other sail
  Than his own wings, between so distant shores.
See how he holds them pointed up to heaven,
  Fanning the air with the eternal pinions,
  That do not moult themselves like mortal hair!"
Then as still nearer and more near us came
  The Bird Divine, more radiant he appeared,
  So that near by the eye could not endure him,
But down I cast it; and he came to shore
  With a small vessel, very swift and light,
  So that the water swallowed naught thereof.
Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot;
  Beatitude seemed written in his face,
  And more than a hundred spirits sat within.
"In exitu Israel de Aegypto!"
  They chanted all together in one voice,
  With whatso in that psalm is after written.
Then made he sign of holy rood upon them,
  Whereat all cast themselves upon the shore,
  And he departed swiftly as he came.
The throng which still remained there unfamiliar
  Seemed with the place, all round about them gazing,
  As one who in new matters makes essay.
On every side was darting forth the day.
  The sun, who had with his resplendent shafts
  From the mid-heaven chased forth the Capricorn,
When the new people lifted up their faces
  Towards us, saying to us: "If ye know,
  Show us the way to go unto the mountain."
And answer made Virgilius: "Ye believe
  Perchance that we have knowledge of this place,
  But we are strangers even as yourselves.
Just now we came, a little while before you,
  Another way, which was so rough and steep,
  That mounting will henceforth seem sport to us."
The souls who had, from seeing me draw breath,
  Become aware that I was still alive,
  Pallid in their astonishment became;
And as to messenger who bears the olive
  The people throng to listen to the news,
  And no one shows himself afraid of crowding,
So at the sight of me stood motionless
  Those fortunate spirits, all of them, as if
  Oblivious to go and make them fair.
One from among them saw I coming forward,
  As to embrace me, with such great affection,
  That it incited me to do the like.
O empty shadows, save in aspect only!
  Three times behind it did I clasp my hands,
  As oft returned with them to my own breast!
I think with wonder I depicted me;
  Whereat the shadow smiled and backward drew;
  And I, pursuing it, pressed farther forward.
Gently it said that I should stay my steps;
  Then knew I who it was, and I entreated
  That it would stop awhile to speak with me.
It made reply to me: "Even as I loved thee
  In mortal body, so I love thee free;
  Therefore I stop; but wherefore goest thou?"
"My own Casella! to return once more
  There where I am, I make this journey," said I;
  "But how from thee has so much time be taken?"
And he to me: "No outrage has been done me,
  If he who takes both when and whom he pleases
  Has many times denied to me this passage,
For of a righteous will his own is made.
  He, sooth to say, for three months past has taken
  Whoever wished to enter with all peace;
Whence I, who now had turned unto that shore
  Where salt the waters of the Tiber grow,
  Benignantly by him have been received.
Unto that outlet now his wing is pointed,
  Because for evermore assemble there
  Those who tow'rds Acheron do not descend."
And I: "If some new law take not from thee
  Memory or practice of the song of love,
  Which used to quiet in me all my longings,
Thee may it please to comfort therewithal
  Somewhat this soul of mine, that with its body
  Hitherward coming is so much distressed."
"Love, that within my mind discourses with me,"
  Forthwith began he so melodiously,
  The melody within me still is sounding.
My Master, and myself, and all that people
  Which with him were, appeared as satisfied
  As if naught else might touch the mind of any.
We all of us were moveless and attentive
  Unto his notes; and lo! the grave old man,
  Exclaiming: "What is this, ye laggard spirits?
What negligence, what standing still is this?
  Run to the mountain to strip off the slough,
  That lets not God be manifest to you."
Even as when, collecting grain or tares,
  The doves, together at their pasture met,
  Quiet, nor showing their accustomed pride,
If aught appear of which they are afraid,
  Upon a sudden leave their food alone,
  Because they are assailed by greater care;
So that fresh company did I behold
  The song relinquish, and go tow'rds the hill,
  As one who goes, and knows not whitherward;
Nor was our own departure less in haste.
Purgatorio: Canto III
Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight
  Had scattered them asunder o'er the plain,
  Turned to the mountain whither reason spurs us,
I pressed me close unto my faithful comrade,
  And how without him had I kept my course?
  Who would have led me up along the mountain?
He seemed to me within himself remorseful;
  O noble conscience, and without a stain,
  How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee!
After his feet had laid aside the haste
  Which mars the dignity of every act,
  My mind, that hitherto had been restrained,
Let loose its faculties as if delighted,
  And I my sight directed to the hill
  That highest tow'rds the heaven uplifts itself.
The sun, that in our rear was flaming red,
  Was broken in front of me into the figure
  Which had in me the stoppage of its rays;
Unto one side I turned me, with the fear
  Of being left alone, when I beheld
  Only in front of me the ground obscured.
"Why dost thou still mistrust?" my Comforter
  Began to say to me turned wholly round;
  "Dost thou not think me with thee, and that I guide thee?
'Tis evening there already where is buried
  The body within which I cast a shadow;
  'Tis from Brundusium ta'en, and Naples has it.
Now if in front of me no shadow fall,
  Marvel not at it more than at the heavens,
  Because one ray impedeth not another
To suffer torments, both of cold and heat,
  Bodies like this that Power provides, which wills
  That how it works be not unveiled to us.
Insane is he who hopeth that our reason
  Can traverse the illimitable way,
  Which the one Substance in three Persons follows!
Mortals, remain contented at the 'Quia;'
  For if ye had been able to see all,
  No need there were for Mary to give birth;
And ye have seen desiring without fruit,
  Those whose desire would have been quieted,
  Which evermore is given them for a grief.
I speak of Aristotle and of Plato,
  And many others;"--and here bowed his head,
  And more he said not, and remained disturbed.
We came meanwhile unto the mountain's foot;
  There so precipitate we found the rock,
  That nimble legs would there have been in vain.
'Twixt Lerici and Turbia, the most desert,
  The most secluded pathway is a stair
  Easy and open, if compared with that.
"Who knoweth now upon which hand the hill
  Slopes down," my Master said, his footsteps staying,
  "So that who goeth without wings may mount?"
And while he held his eyes upon the ground
  Examining the nature of the path,
  And I was looking up around the rock,
On the left hand appeared to me a throng
  Of souls, that moved their feet in our direction,
  And did not seem to move, they came so slowly.
"Lift up thine eyes," I to the Master said;
  "Behold, on this side, who will give us counsel,
  If thou of thine own self can have it not."
Then he looked at me, and with frank expression
  Replied: "Let us go there, for they come slowly,
  And thou be steadfast in thy hope, sweet son."
Still was that people as far off from us,
  After a thousand steps of ours I say,
  As a good thrower with his hand would reach,
When they all crowded unto the hard masses
  Of the high bank, and motionless stood and close,
  As he stands still to look who goes in doubt.
"O happy dead!  O spirits elect already!"
  Virgilius made beginning, "by that peace
  Which I believe is waiting for you all,
Tell us upon what side the mountain slopes,
  So that the going up be possible,
  For to lose time irks him most who most knows."
As sheep come issuing forth from out the fold
  By ones and twos and threes, and the others stand
  Timidly, holding down their eyes and nostrils,
And what the foremost does the others do,
  Huddling themselves against her, if she stop,
  Simple and quiet and the wherefore know not;
So moving to approach us thereupon
  I saw the leader of that fortunate flock,
  Modest in face and dignified in gait.
As soon as those in the advance saw broken
  The light upon the ground at my right side,
  So that from me the shadow reached the rock,
They stopped, and backward drew themselves somewhat;
  And all the others, who came after them,
  Not knowing why nor wherefore, did the same.
"Without your asking, I confess to you
  This is a human body which you see,
  Whereby the sunshine on the ground is cleft.
Marvel ye not thereat, but be persuaded
  That not without a power which comes from Heaven
  Doth he endeavour to surmount this wall."
The Master thus; and said those worthy people:
  "Return ye then, and enter in before us,"
  Making a signal with the back o' the hand
And one of them began: "Whoe'er thou art,
  Thus going turn thine eyes, consider well
  If e'er thou saw me in the other world."
I turned me tow'rds him, and looked at him closely;
  Blond was he, beautiful, and of noble aspect,
  But one of his eyebrows had a blow divided.
When with humility I had disclaimed
  E'er having seen him, "Now behold!" he said,
  And showed me high upon his breast a wound.
Then said he with a smile: "I am Manfredi,
  The grandson of the Empress Costanza;
  Therefore, when thou returnest, I beseech thee
Go to my daughter beautiful, the mother
  Of Sicily's honour and of Aragon's,
  And the truth tell her, if aught else be told.
After I had my body lacerated
  By these two mortal stabs, I gave myself
  Weeping to Him, who willingly doth pardon.
Horrible my iniquities had been;
  But Infinite Goodness hath such ample arms,
  That it receives whatever turns to it.
Had but Cosenza's pastor, who in chase
  Of me was sent by Clement at that time,
  In God read understandingly this page,
The bones of my dead body still would be
  At the bridge-head, near unto Benevento,
  Under the safeguard of the heavy cairn.
Now the rain bathes and moveth them the wind,
  Beyond the realm, almost beside the Verde,
  Where he transported them with tapers quenched.
By malison of theirs is not so lost
  Eternal Love, that it cannot return,
  So long as hope has anything of green.
True is it, who in contumacy dies
  Of Holy Church, though penitent at last,
  Must wait upon the outside this bank
Thirty times told the time that he has been
  In his presumption, unless such decree
  Shorter by means of righteous prayers become.
See now if thou hast power to make me happy,
  By making known unto my good Costanza
  How thou hast seen me, and this ban beside,
For those on earth can much advance us here."
Purgatorio: Canto IV
Whenever by delight or else by pain,
  That seizes any faculty of ours,
  Wholly to that the soul collects itself,
It seemeth that no other power it heeds;
  And this against that error is which thinks
  One soul above another kindles in us.
And hence, whenever aught is heard or seen
  Which keeps the soul intently bent upon it,
  Time passes on, and we perceive it not,
Because one faculty is that which listens,
  And other that which the soul keeps entire;
  This is as if in bonds, and that is free.
Of this I had experience positive
  In hearing and in gazing at that spirit;
  For fifty full degrees uprisen was
The sun, and I had not perceived it, when
  We came to where those souls with one accord
  Cried out unto us: "Here is what you ask."
A greater opening ofttimes hedges up
  With but a little forkful of his thorns
  The villager, what time the grape imbrowns,
Than was the passage-way through which ascended
  Only my Leader and myself behind him,
  After that company departed from us.
One climbs Sanleo and descends in Noli,
  And mounts the summit of Bismantova,
  With feet alone; but here one needs must fly;
With the swift pinions and the plumes I say
  Of great desire, conducted after him
  Who gave me hope, and made a light for me.
We mounted upward through the rifted rock,
  And on each side the border pressed upon us,
  And feet and hands the ground beneath required.
When we were come upon the upper rim
  Of the high bank, out on the open slope,
  "My Master," said I, "what way shall we take?"
And he to me: "No step of thine descend;
  Still up the mount behind me win thy way,
  Till some sage escort shall appear to us."
The summit was so high it vanquished sight,
  And the hillside precipitous far more
  Than line from middle quadrant to the centre.
Spent with fatigue was I, when I began:
  "O my sweet Father! turn thee and behold
  How I remain alone, unless thou stay!"
"O son," he said, "up yonder drag thyself,"
  Pointing me to a terrace somewhat higher,
  Which on that side encircles all the hill.
These words of his so spurred me on, that I
  Strained every nerve, behind him scrambling up,
  Until the circle was beneath my feet.
Thereon ourselves we seated both of us
  Turned to the East, from which we had ascended,
  For all men are delighted to look back.
To the low shores mine eyes I first directed,
  Then to the sun uplifted them, and wondered
  That on the left hand we were smitten by it.
The Poet well perceived that I was wholly
  Bewildered at the chariot of the light,
  Where 'twixt us and the Aquilon it entered.
Whereon he said to me: "If Castor and Pollux
  Were in the company of yonder mirror,
  That up and down conducteth with its light,
Thou wouldst behold the zodiac's jagged wheel
  Revolving still more near unto the Bears,
  Unless it swerved aside from its old track.
How that may be wouldst thou have power to think,
  Collected in thyself, imagine Zion
  Together with this mount on earth to stand,
So that they both one sole horizon have,
  And hemispheres diverse; whereby the road
  Which Phaeton, alas! knew not to drive,
Thou'lt see how of necessity must pass
  This on one side, when that upon the other,
  If thine intelligence right clearly heed."
"Truly, my Master," said I, "never yet
  Saw I so clearly as I now discern,
  There where my wit appeared incompetent,
That the mid-circle of supernal motion,
  Which in some art is the Equator called,
  And aye remains between the Sun and Winter,
For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence
  Tow'rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews
  Beheld it tow'rds the region of the heat.
But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn
  How far we have to go; for the hill rises
  Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise."
And he to me: "This mount is such, that ever
  At the beginning down below 'tis tiresome,
  And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts.
Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee,
  That going up shall be to thee as easy
  As going down the current in a boat,
Then at this pathway's ending thou wilt be;
  There to repose thy panting breath expect;
  No more I answer; and this I know for true."
And as he finished uttering these words,
  A voice close by us sounded: "Peradventure
  Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that."
At sound thereof each one of us turned round,
  And saw upon the left hand a great rock,
  Which neither I nor he before had noticed.
Thither we drew; and there were persons there
  Who in the shadow stood behind the rock,
  As one through indolence is wont to stand.
And one of them, who seemed to me fatigued,
  Was sitting down, and both his knees embraced,
  Holding his face low down between them bowed.
"O my sweet Lord," I said, "do turn thine eye
  On him who shows himself more negligent
  Then even Sloth herself his sister were."
Then he turned round to us, and he gave heed,
  Just lifting up his eyes above his thigh,
  And said: "Now go thou up, for thou art valiant."
Then knew I who he was; and the distress,
  That still a little did my breathing quicken,
  My going to him hindered not; and after
I came to him he hardly raised his head,
  Saying: "Hast thou seen clearly how the sun
  O'er thy left shoulder drives his chariot?"
His sluggish attitude and his curt words
  A little unto laughter moved my lips;
  Then I began: "Belacqua, I grieve not
For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated
  In this place art thou?  Waitest thou an escort?
  Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?"
And he: "O brother, what's the use of climbing?
  Since to my torment would not let me go
  The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate.
First heaven must needs so long revolve me round
  Outside thereof, as in my life it did,
  Since the good sighs I to the end postponed,
Unless, e'er that, some prayer may bring me aid
  Which rises from a heart that lives in grace;
  What profit others that in heaven are heard not?"
Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting,
  And saying: "Come now; see the sun has touched
  Meridian, and from the shore the night
Covers already with her foot Morocco."
Purgatorio: Canto V
I had already from those shades departed,
  And followed in the footsteps of my Guide,
  When from behind, pointing his finger at me,
One shouted: "See, it seems as if shone not
  The sunshine on the left of him below,
  And like one living seems he to conduct him."
Mine eyes I turned at utterance of these words,
  And saw them watching with astonishment
  But me, but me, and the light which was broken!
"Why doth thy mind so occupy itself,"
  The Master said, "that thou thy pace dost slacken?
  What matters it to thee what here is whispered?
Come after me, and let the people talk;
  Stand like a steadfast tower, that never wags
  Its top for all the blowing of the winds;
For evermore the man in whom is springing
  Thought upon thought, removes from him the mark,
  Because the force of one the other weakens."
What could I say in answer but "I come"?
  I said it somewhat with that colour tinged
  Which makes a man of pardon sometimes worthy.
Meanwhile along the mountain-side across
  Came people in advance of us a little,
  Singing the Miserere verse by verse.
When they became aware I gave no place
  For passage of the sunshine through my body,
  They changed their song into a long, hoarse "Oh!"
And two of them, in form of messengers,
  Ran forth to meet us, and demanded of us,
  "Of your condition make us cognisant."
And said my Master: "Ye can go your way
  And carry back again to those who sent you,
  That this one's body is of very flesh.
If they stood still because they saw his shadow,
  As I suppose, enough is answered them;
  Him let them honour, it may profit them."
Vapours enkindled saw I ne'er so swiftly
  At early nightfall cleave the air serene,
  Nor, at the set of sun, the clouds of August,
But upward they returned in briefer time,
  And, on arriving, with the others wheeled
  Tow'rds us, like troops that run without a rein.
"This folk that presses unto us is great,
  And cometh to implore thee," said the Poet;
  "So still go onward, and in going listen."
"O soul that goest to beatitude
  With the same members wherewith thou wast born,"
  Shouting they came, "a little stay thy steps,
Look, if thou e'er hast any of us seen,
  So that o'er yonder thou bear news of him;
  Ah, why dost thou go on?  Ah, why not stay?
Long since we all were slain by violence,
  And sinners even to the latest hour;
  Then did a light from heaven admonish us,
So that, both penitent and pardoning, forth
  From life we issued reconciled to God,
  Who with desire to see Him stirs our hearts."
And I: "Although I gaze into your faces,
  No one I recognize; but if may please you
  Aught I have power to do, ye well-born spirits,
Speak ye, and I will do it, by that peace
  Which, following the feet of such a Guide,
  From world to world makes itself sought by me."
And one began: "Each one has confidence
  In thy good offices without an oath,
  Unless the I cannot cut off the I will;
Whence I, who speak alone before the others,
  Pray thee, if ever thou dost see the land
  That 'twixt Romagna lies and that of Charles,
Thou be so courteous to me of thy prayers
  In Fano, that they pray for me devoutly,
  That I may purge away my grave offences.
From thence was I; but the deep wounds, through which
  Issued the blood wherein I had my seat,
  Were dealt me in bosom of the Antenori,
There where I thought to be the most secure;
  'Twas he of Este had it done, who held me
  In hatred far beyond what justice willed.
But if towards the Mira I had fled,
  When I was overtaken at Oriaco,
  I still should be o'er yonder where men breathe.
I ran to the lagoon, and reeds and mire
  Did so entangle me I fell, and saw there
  A lake made from my veins upon the ground."
Then said another: "Ah, be that desire
  Fulfilled that draws thee to the lofty mountain,
  As thou with pious pity aidest mine.
I was of Montefeltro, and am Buonconte;
  Giovanna, nor none other cares for me;
  Hence among these I go with downcast front."
And I to him: "What violence or what chance
  Led thee astray so far from Campaldino,
  That never has thy sepulture been known?"
"Oh," he replied, "at Casentino's foot
  A river crosses named Archiano, born
  Above the Hermitage in Apennine.
There where the name thereof becometh void
  Did I arrive, pierced through and through the throat,
  Fleeing on foot, and bloodying the plain;
There my sight lost I, and my utterance
  Ceased in the name of Mary, and thereat
  I fell, and tenantless my flesh remained.
Truth will I speak, repeat it to the living;
  God's Angel took me up, and he of hell
  Shouted: 'O thou from heaven, why dost thou rob me?
Thou bearest away the eternal part of him,
  For one poor little tear, that takes him from me;
  But with the rest I'll deal in other fashion!'
Well knowest thou how in the air is gathered
  That humid vapour which to water turns,
  Soon as it rises where the cold doth grasp it.
He joined that evil will, which aye seeks evil,
  To intellect, and moved the mist and wind
  By means of power, which his own nature gave;
Thereafter, when the day was spent, the valley
  From Pratomagno to the great yoke covered
  With fog, and made the heaven above intent,
So that the pregnant air to water changed;
  Down fell the rain, and to the gullies came
  Whate'er of it earth tolerated not;
And as it mingled with the mighty torrents,
  Towards the royal river with such speed
  It headlong rushed, that nothing held it back.
My frozen body near unto its outlet
  The robust Archian found, and into Arno
  Thrust it, and loosened from my breast the cross
I made of me, when agony o'ercame me;
  It rolled me on the banks and on the bottom,
  Then with its booty covered and begirt me."
"Ah, when thou hast returned unto the world,
  And rested thee from thy long journeying,"
  After the second followed the third spirit,
"Do thou remember me who am the Pia;
  Siena made me, unmade me Maremma;
  He knoweth it, who had encircled first,
Espousing me, my finger with his gem."
Purgatorio: Canto VI
Whene'er is broken up the game of Zara,
  He who has lost remains behind despondent,
  The throws repeating, and in sadness learns;
The people with the other all depart;
  One goes in front, and one behind doth pluck him,
  And at his side one brings himself to mind;
He pauses not, and this and that one hears;
  They crowd no more to whom his hand he stretches,
  And from the throng he thus defends himself.
Even such was I in that dense multitude,
  Turning to them this way and that my face,
  And, promising, I freed myself therefrom.
There was the Aretine, who from the arms
  Untamed of Ghin di Tacco had his death,
  And he who fleeing from pursuit was drowned.
There was imploring with his hands outstretched
  Frederick Novello, and that one of Pisa
  Who made the good Marzucco seem so strong.
I saw Count Orso; and the soul divided
  By hatred and by envy from its body,
  As it declared, and not for crime committed,
Pierre de la Brosse I say; and here provide
  While still on earth the Lady of Brabant,
  So that for this she be of no worse flock!
As soon as I was free from all those shades
  Who only prayed that some one else may pray,
  So as to hasten their becoming holy,
Began I: "It appears that thou deniest,
  O light of mine, expressly in some text,
  That orison can bend decree of Heaven;
And ne'ertheless these people pray for this.
  Might then their expectation bootless be?
  Or is to me thy saying not quite clear?"
And he to me: "My writing is explicit,
  And not fallacious is the hope of these,
  If with sane intellect 'tis well regarded;
For top of judgment doth not vail itself,
  Because the fire of love fulfils at once
  What he must satisfy who here installs him.
And there, where I affirmed that proposition,
  Defect was not amended by a prayer,
  Because the prayer from God was separate.
Verily, in so deep a questioning
  Do not decide, unless she tell it thee,
  Who light 'twixt truth and intellect shall be.
I know not if thou understand; I speak
  Of Beatrice; her shalt thou see above,
  Smiling and happy, on this mountain's top."
And I: "Good Leader, let us make more haste,
  For I no longer tire me as before;
  And see, e'en now the hill a shadow casts."
"We will go forward with this day" he answered,
  "As far as now is possible for us;
  But otherwise the fact is than thou thinkest.
Ere thou art up there, thou shalt see return
  Him, who now hides himself behind the hill,
  So that thou dost not interrupt his rays.
But yonder there behold! a soul that stationed
  All, all alone is looking hitherward;
  It will point out to us the quickest way."
We came up unto it; O Lombard soul,
  How lofty and disdainful thou didst bear thee,
  And grand and slow in moving of thine eyes!
Nothing whatever did it say to us,
  But let us go our way, eying us only
  After the manner of a couchant lion;
Still near to it Virgilius drew, entreating
  That it would point us out the best ascent;
  And it replied not unto his demand,
But of our native land and of our life
  It questioned us; and the sweet Guide began:
  "Mantua,"--and the shade, all in itself recluse,
Rose tow'rds him from the place where first it was,
  Saying: "O Mantuan, I am Sordello
  Of thine own land!" and one embraced the other.
Ah! servile Italy, grief's hostelry!
  A ship without a pilot in great tempest!
  No Lady thou of Provinces, but brothel!
That noble soul was so impatient, only
  At the sweet sound of his own native land,
  To make its citizen glad welcome there;
And now within thee are not without war
  Thy living ones, and one doth gnaw the other
  Of those whom one wall and one fosse shut in!
Search, wretched one, all round about the shores
  Thy seaboard, and then look within thy bosom,
  If any part of thee enjoyeth peace!
What boots it, that for thee Justinian
  The bridle mend, if empty be the saddle?
  Withouten this the shame would be the less.
Ah! people, thou that oughtest to be devout,
  And to let Caesar sit upon the saddle,
  If well thou hearest what God teacheth thee,
Behold how fell this wild beast has become,
  Being no longer by the spur corrected,
  Since thou hast laid thy hand upon the bridle.
O German Albert! who abandonest
  Her that has grown recalcitrant and savage,
  And oughtest to bestride her saddle-bow,
May a just judgment from the stars down fall
  Upon thy blood, and be it new and open,
  That thy successor may have fear thereof;
Because thy father and thyself have suffered,
  By greed of those transalpine lands distrained,
  The garden of the empire to be waste.
Come and behold Montecchi and Cappelletti,
  Monaldi and Fillippeschi, careless man!
  Those sad already, and these doubt-depressed!
Come, cruel one! come and behold the oppression
  Of thy nobility, and cure their wounds,
  And thou shalt see how safe is Santafiore!
Come and behold thy Rome, that is lamenting,
  Widowed, alone, and day and night exclaims,
  "My Caesar, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Come and behold how loving are the people;
  And if for us no pity moveth thee,
  Come and be made ashamed of thy renown!
And if it lawful be, O Jove Supreme!
  Who upon earth for us wast crucified,
  Are thy just eyes averted otherwhere?
Or preparation is 't, that, in the abyss
  Of thine own counsel, for some good thou makest
  From our perception utterly cut off?
For all the towns of Italy are full
  Of tyrants, and becometh a Marcellus
  Each peasant churl who plays the partisan!
My Florence! well mayst thou contented be
  With this digression, which concerns thee not,
  Thanks to thy people who such forethought take!
Many at heart have justice, but shoot slowly,
  That unadvised they come not to the bow,
  But on their very lips thy people have it!
Many refuse to bear the common burden;
  But thy solicitous people answereth
  Without being asked, and crieth: "I submit."
Now be thou joyful, for thou hast good reason;
  Thou affluent, thou in peace, thou full of wisdom!
  If I speak true, the event conceals it not.
Athens and Lacedaemon, they who made
  The ancient laws, and were so civilized,
  Made towards living well a little sign
Compared with thee, who makest such fine-spun
  Provisions, that to middle of November
  Reaches not what thou in October spinnest.
How oft, within the time of thy remembrance,
  Laws, money, offices, and usages
  Hast thou remodelled, and renewed thy members?
And if thou mind thee well, and see the light,
  Thou shalt behold thyself like a sick woman,
  Who cannot find repose upon her down,
But by her tossing wardeth off her pain.
Purgatorio: Canto VII
After the gracious and glad salutations
  Had three and four times been reiterated,
  Sordello backward drew and said, "Who are you?"
"Or ever to this mountain were directed
  The souls deserving to ascend to God,
  My bones were buried by Octavian.
I am Virgilius; and for no crime else
  Did I lose heaven, than for not having faith;"
  In this wise then my Leader made reply.
As one who suddenly before him sees
  Something whereat he marvels, who believes
  And yet does not, saying, "It is! it is not!"
So he appeared; and then bowed down his brow,
  And with humility returned towards him,
  And, where inferiors embrace, embraced him.
"O glory of the Latians, thou," he said,
  "Through whom our language showed what it could do
  O pride eternal of the place I came from,
What merit or what grace to me reveals thee?
  If I to hear thy words be worthy, tell me
  If thou dost come from Hell, and from what cloister."
"Through all the circles of the doleful realm,"
  Responded he, "have I come hitherward;
  Heaven's power impelled me, and with that I come.
I by not doing, not by doing, lost
  The sight of that high sun which thou desirest,
  And which too late by me was recognized.
A place there is below not sad with torments,
  But darkness only, where the lamentations
  Have not the sound of wailing, but are sighs.
There dwell I with the little innocents
  Snatched by the teeth of Death, or ever they
  Were from our human sinfulness exempt.
There dwell I among those who the three saintly
  Virtues did not put on, and without vice
  The others knew and followed all of them.
But if thou know and can, some indication
  Give us by which we may the sooner come
  Where Purgatory has its right beginning."
He answered: "No fixed place has been assigned us;
  'Tis lawful for me to go up and round;
  So far as I can go, as guide I join thee.
But see already how the day declines,
  And to go up by night we are not able;
  Therefore 'tis well to think of some fair sojourn.
Souls are there on the right hand here withdrawn;
  If thou permit me I will lead thee to them,
  And thou shalt know them not without delight."
"How is this?" was the answer; "should one wish
  To mount by night would he prevented be
  By others? or mayhap would not have power?"
And on the ground the good Sordello drew
  His finger, saying, "See, this line alone
  Thou couldst not pass after the sun is gone;
Not that aught else would hindrance give, however,
  To going up, save the nocturnal darkness;
  This with the want of power the will perplexes.
We might indeed therewith return below,
  And, wandering, walk the hill-side round about,
  While the horizon holds the day imprisoned."
Thereon my Lord, as if in wonder, said:
  "Do thou conduct us thither, where thou sayest
  That we can take delight in tarrying."
Little had we withdrawn us from that place,
  When I perceived the mount was hollowed out
  In fashion as the valleys here are hollowed.
"Thitherward," said that shade, "will we repair,
  Where of itself the hill-side makes a lap,
  And there for the new day will we await."
'Twixt hill and plain there was a winding path
  Which led us to the margin of that dell,
  Where dies the border more than half away.
Gold and fine silver, and scarlet and pearl-white,
  The Indian wood resplendent and serene,
  Fresh emerald the moment it is broken,
By herbage and by flowers within that hollow
  Planted, each one in colour would be vanquished,
  As by its greater vanquished is the less.
Nor in that place had nature painted only,
  But of the sweetness of a thousand odours
  Made there a mingled fragrance and unknown.
"Salve Regina," on the green and flowers
  There seated, singing, spirits I beheld,
  Which were not visible outside the valley.
"Before the scanty sun now seeks his nest,"
  Began the Mantuan who had led us thither,
  "Among them do not wish me to conduct you.
Better from off this ledge the acts and faces
  Of all of them will you discriminate,
  Than in the plain below received among them.
He who sits highest, and the semblance bears
  Of having what he should have done neglected,
  And to the others' song moves not his lips,
Rudolph the Emperor was, who had the power
  To heal the wounds that Italy have slain,
  So that through others slowly she revives.
The other, who in look doth comfort him,
  Governed the region where the water springs,
  The Moldau bears the Elbe, and Elbe the sea.
His name was Ottocar; and in swaddling-clothes
  Far better he than bearded Winceslaus
  His son, who feeds in luxury and ease.
And the small-nosed, who close in council seems
  With him that has an aspect so benign,
  Died fleeing and disflowering the lily;
Look there, how he is beating at his breast!
  Behold the other one, who for his cheek
  Sighing has made of his own palm a bed;
Father and father-in-law of France's Pest
  Are they, and know his vicious life and lewd,
  And hence proceeds the grief that so doth pierce them.
He who appears so stalwart, and chimes in,
  Singing, with that one of the manly nose,
  The cord of every valour wore begirt;
And if as King had after him remained
  The stripling who in rear of him is sitting,
  Well had the valour passed from vase to vase,
Which cannot of the other heirs be said.
  Frederick and Jacomo possess the realms,
  But none the better heritage possesses.
Not oftentimes upriseth through the branches
  The probity of man; and this He wills
  Who gives it, so that we may ask of Him.
Eke to the large-nosed reach my words, no less
  Than to the other, Pier, who with him sings;
  Whence Provence and Apulia grieve already
The plant is as inferior to its seed,
  As more than Beatrice and Margaret
  Costanza boasteth of her husband still.
Behold the monarch of the simple life,
  Harry of England, sitting there alone;
  He in his branches has a better issue.
He who the lowest on the ground among them
  Sits looking upward, is the Marquis William,
  For whose sake Alessandria and her war
Make Monferrat and Canavese weep."
Purgatorio: Canto VIII
'Twas now the hour that turneth back desire
  In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart,
  The day they've said to their sweet friends farewell,
And the new pilgrim penetrates with love,
  If he doth hear from far away a bell
  That seemeth to deplore the dying day,
When I began to make of no avail
  My hearing, and to watch one of the souls
  Uprisen, that begged attention with its hand.
It joined and lifted upward both its palms,
  Fixing its eyes upon the orient,
  As if it said to God, "Naught else I care for."
"Te lucis ante" so devoutly issued
  Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes,
  It made me issue forth from my own mind.
And then the others, sweetly and devoutly,
  Accompanied it through all the hymn entire,
  Having their eyes on the supernal wheels.
Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth,
  For now indeed so subtile is the veil,
  Surely to penetrate within is easy.
I saw that army of the gentle-born
  Thereafterward in silence upward gaze,
  As if in expectation, pale and humble;
And from on high come forth and down descend,
  I saw two Angels with two flaming swords,
  Truncated and deprived of their points.
Green as the little leaflets just now born
  Their garments were, which, by their verdant pinions
  Beaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind.
One just above us came to take his station,
  And one descended to the opposite bank,
  So that the people were contained between them.
Clearly in them discerned I the blond head;
  But in their faces was the eye bewildered,
  As faculty confounded by excess.
"From Mary's bosom both of them have come,"
  Sordello said, "as guardians of the valley
  Against the serpent, that will come anon."
Whereupon I, who knew not by what road,
  Turned round about, and closely drew myself,
  Utterly frozen, to the faithful shoulders.
And once again Sordello: "Now descend we
  'Mid the grand shades, and we will speak to them;
  Right pleasant will it be for them to see you."
Only three steps I think that I descended,
  And was below, and saw one who was looking
  Only at me, as if he fain would know me.
Already now the air was growing dark,
  But not so that between his eyes and mine
  It did not show what it before locked up.
Tow'rds me he moved, and I tow'rds him did move;
  Noble Judge Nino! how it me delighted,
  When I beheld thee not among the damned!
No greeting fair was left unsaid between us;
  Then asked he: "How long is it since thou camest
  O'er the far waters to the mountain's foot?"
"Oh!" said I to him, "through the dismal places
  I came this morn; and am in the first life,
  Albeit the other, going thus, I gain."
And on the instant my reply was heard,
  He and Sordello both shrank back from me,
  Like people who are suddenly bewildered.
One to Virgilius, and the other turned
  To one who sat there, crying, "Up, Currado!
  Come and behold what God in grace has willed!"
Then, turned to me: "By that especial grace
  Thou owest unto Him, who so conceals
  His own first wherefore, that it has no ford,
When thou shalt be beyond the waters wide,
  Tell my Giovanna that she pray for me,
  Where answer to the innocent is made.
I do not think her mother loves me more,
  Since she has laid aside her wimple white,
  Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again.
Through her full easily is comprehended
  How long in woman lasts the fire of love,
  If eye or touch do not relight it often.
So fair a hatchment will not make for her
  The Viper marshalling the Milanese
  A-field, as would have made Gallura's Cock."
In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressed
  Upon his aspect of that righteous zeal
  Which measurably burneth in the heart.
My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven,
  Still to that point where slowest are the stars,
  Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle.
And my Conductor: "Son, what dost thou gaze at
  Up there?"  And I to him: "At those three torches
  With which this hither pole is all on fire."
And he to me: "The four resplendent stars
  Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low,
  And these have mounted up to where those were."
As he was speaking, to himself Sordello
  Drew him, and said, "Lo there our Adversary!"
  And pointed with his finger to look thither.
Upon the side on which the little valley
  No barrier hath, a serpent was; perchance
  The same which gave to Eve the bitter food.
'Twixt grass and flowers came on the evil streak,
  Turning at times its head about, and licking
  Its back like to a beast that smoothes itself.
I did not see, and therefore cannot say
  How the celestial falcons 'gan to move,
  But well I saw that they were both in motion.
Hearing the air cleft by their verdant wings,
  The serpent fled, and round the Angels wheeled,
  Up to their stations flying back alike.
The shade that to the Judge had near approached
  When he had called, throughout that whole assault
  Had not a moment loosed its gaze on me.
"So may the light that leadeth thee on high
  Find in thine own free-will as much of wax
  As needful is up to the highest azure,"
Began it, "if some true intelligence
  Of Valdimagra or its neighbourhood
  Thou knowest, tell it me, who once was great there.
Currado Malaspina was I called;
  I'm not the elder, but from him descended;
  To mine I bore the love which here refineth."
"O," said I unto him, "through your domains
  I never passed, but where is there a dwelling
  Throughout all Europe, where they are not known?
That fame, which doeth honour to your house,
  Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land,
  So that he knows of them who ne'er was there.
And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to you
  Your honoured family in naught abates
  The glory of the purse and of the sword.
It is so privileged by use and nature,
  That though a guilty head misguide the world,
  Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way."
And he: "Now go; for the sun shall not lie
  Seven times upon the pillow which the Ram
  With all his four feet covers and bestrides,
Before that such a courteous opinion
  Shall in the middle of thy head be nailed
  With greater nails than of another's speech,
Unless the course of justice standeth still."
Purgatorio: Canto IX
The concubine of old Tithonus now
  Gleamed white upon the eastern balcony,
  Forth from the arms of her sweet paramour;
With gems her forehead all relucent was,
  Set in the shape of that cold animal
  Which with its tail doth smite amain the nations,
And of the steps, with which she mounts, the Night
  Had taken two in that place where we were,
  And now the third was bending down its wings;
When I, who something had of Adam in me,
  Vanquished by sleep, upon the grass reclined,
  There were all five of us already sat.
Just at the hour when her sad lay begins
  The little swallow, near unto the morning,
  Perchance in memory of her former woes,
And when the mind of man, a wanderer
  More from the flesh, and less by thought imprisoned,
  Almost prophetic in its visions is,
In dreams it seemed to me I saw suspended
  An eagle in the sky, with plumes of gold,
  With wings wide open, and intent to stoop,
And this, it seemed to me, was where had been
  By Ganymede his kith and kin abandoned,
  When to the high consistory he was rapt.
I thought within myself, perchance he strikes
  From habit only here, and from elsewhere
  Disdains to bear up any in his feet.
Then wheeling somewhat more, it seemed to me,
  Terrible as the lightning he descended,
  And snatched me upward even to the fire.
Therein it seemed that he and I were burning,
  And the imagined fire did scorch me so,
  That of necessity my sleep was broken.
Not otherwise Achilles started up,
  Around him turning his awakened eyes,
  And knowing not the place in which he was,
What time from Chiron stealthily his mother
  Carried him sleeping in her arms to Scyros,
  Wherefrom the Greeks withdrew him afterwards,
Than I upstarted, when from off my face
  Sleep fled away; and pallid I became,
  As doth the man who freezes with affright.
Only my Comforter was at my side,
  And now the sun was more than two hours high,
  And turned towards the sea-shore was my face.
"Be not intimidated," said my Lord,
  "Be reassured, for all is well with us;
  Do not restrain, but put forth all thy strength.
Thou hast at length arrived at Purgatory;
  See there the cliff that closes it around;
  See there the entrance, where it seems disjoined.
Whilom at dawn, which doth precede the day,
  When inwardly thy spirit was asleep
  Upon the flowers that deck the land below,
There came a Lady and said: 'I am Lucia;
  Let me take this one up, who is asleep;
  So will I make his journey easier for him.'
Sordello and the other noble shapes
  Remained; she took thee, and, as day grew bright,
  Upward she came, and I upon her footsteps.
She laid thee here; and first her beauteous eyes
  That open entrance pointed out to me;
  Then she and sleep together went away."
In guise of one whose doubts are reassured,
  And who to confidence his fear doth change,
  After the truth has been discovered to him,
So did I change; and when without disquiet
  My Leader saw me, up along the cliff
  He moved, and I behind him, tow'rd the height.
Reader, thou seest well how I exalt
  My theme, and therefore if with greater art
  I fortify it, marvel not thereat.
Nearer approached we, and were in such place,
  That there, where first appeared to me a rift
  Like to a crevice that disparts a wall,
I saw a portal, and three stairs beneath,
  Diverse in colour, to go up to it,
  And a gate-keeper, who yet spake no word.
And as I opened more and more mine eyes,
  I saw him seated on the highest stair,
  Such in the face that I endured it not.
And in his hand he had a naked sword,
  Which so reflected back the sunbeams tow'rds us,
  That oft in vain I lifted up mine eyes.
"Tell it from where you are, what is't you wish?"
  Began he to exclaim; "where is the escort?
  Take heed your coming hither harm you not!"
"A Lady of Heaven, with these things conversant,"
  My Master answered him, "but even now
  Said to us, 'Thither go; there is the portal.'"
"And may she speed your footsteps in all good,"
  Again began the courteous janitor;
  "Come forward then unto these stairs of ours."
Thither did we approach; and the first stair
  Was marble white, so polished and so smooth,
  I mirrored myself therein as I appear.
The second, tinct of deeper hue than perse,
  Was of a calcined and uneven stone,
  Cracked all asunder lengthwise and across.
The third, that uppermost rests massively,
  Porphyry seemed to me, as flaming red
  As blood that from a vein is spirting forth.
Both of his feet was holding upon this
  The Angel of God, upon the threshold seated,
  Which seemed to me a stone of diamond.
Along the three stairs upward with good will
  Did my Conductor draw me, saying: "Ask
  Humbly that he the fastening may undo."
Devoutly at the holy feet I cast me,
  For mercy's sake besought that he would open,
  But first upon my breast three times I smote.
Seven P's upon my forehead he described
  With the sword's point, and, "Take heed that thou wash
  These wounds, when thou shalt be within," he said.
Ashes, or earth that dry is excavated,
  Of the same colour were with his attire,
  And from beneath it he drew forth two keys.
One was of gold, and the other was of silver;
  First with the white, and after with the yellow,
  Plied he the door, so that I was content.
"Whenever faileth either of these keys
  So that it turn not rightly in the lock,"
  He said to us, "this entrance doth not open.
More precious one is, but the other needs
  More art and intellect ere it unlock,
  For it is that which doth the knot unloose.
From Peter I have them; and he bade me err
  Rather in opening than in keeping shut,
  If people but fall down before my feet."
Then pushed the portals of the sacred door,
  Exclaiming: "Enter; but I give you warning
  That forth returns whoever looks behind."
And when upon their hinges were turned round
  The swivels of that consecrated gate,
  Which are of metal, massive and sonorous,
Roared not so loud, nor so discordant seemed
  Tarpeia, when was ta'en from it the good
  Metellus, wherefore meagre it remained.
At the first thunder-peal I turned attentive,
  And "Te Deum laudamus" seemed to hear
  In voices mingled with sweet melody.
Exactly such an image rendered me
  That which I heard, as we are wont to catch,
  When people singing with the organ stand;
For now we hear, and now hear not, the words.
Purgatorio: Canto X
When we had crossed the threshold of the door
  Which the perverted love of souls disuses,
  Because it makes the crooked way seem straight,
Re-echoing I heard it closed again;
  And if I had turned back mine eyes upon it,
  What for my failing had been fit excuse?
We mounted upward through a rifted rock,
  Which undulated to this side and that,
  Even as a wave receding and advancing.
"Here it behoves us use a little art,"
  Began my Leader, "to adapt ourselves
  Now here, now there, to the receding side."
And this our footsteps so infrequent made,
  That sooner had the moon's decreasing disk
  Regained its bed to sink again to rest,
Than we were forth from out that needle's eye;
  But when we free and in the open were,
  There where the mountain backward piles itself,
I wearied out, and both of us uncertain
  About our way, we stopped upon a plain
  More desolate than roads across the deserts.
From where its margin borders on the void,
  To foot of the high bank that ever rises,
  A human body three times told would measure;
And far as eye of mine could wing its flight,
  Now on the left, and on the right flank now,
  The same this cornice did appear to me.
Thereon our feet had not been moved as yet,
  When I perceived the embankment round about,
  Which all right of ascent had interdicted,
To be of marble white, and so adorned
  With sculptures, that not only Polycletus,
  But Nature's self, had there been put to shame.
The Angel, who came down to earth with tidings
  Of peace, that had been wept for many a year,
  And opened Heaven from its long interdict,
In front of us appeared so truthfully
  There sculptured in a gracious attitude,
  He did not seem an image that is silent.
One would have sworn that he was saying, "Ave;"
  For she was there in effigy portrayed
  Who turned the key to ope the exalted love,
And in her mien this language had impressed,
  "Ecce ancilla Dei," as distinctly
  As any figure stamps itself in wax.
"Keep not thy mind upon one place alone,"
  The gentle Master said, who had me standing
  Upon that side where people have their hearts;
Whereat I moved mine eyes, and I beheld
  In rear of Mary, and upon that side
  Where he was standing who conducted me,
Another story on the rock imposed;
  Wherefore I passed Virgilius and drew near,
  So that before mine eyes it might be set.
There sculptured in the self-same marble were
  The cart and oxen, drawing the holy ark,
  Wherefore one dreads an office not appointed.
People appeared in front, and all of them
  In seven choirs divided, of two senses
  Made one say "No," the other, "Yes, they sing."
Likewise unto the smoke of the frankincense,
  Which there was imaged forth, the eyes and nose
  Were in the yes and no discordant made.
Preceded there the vessel benedight,
  Dancing with girded loins, the humble Psalmist,
  And more and less than King was he in this.
Opposite, represented at the window
  Of a great palace, Michal looked upon him,
  Even as a woman scornful and afflicted.
I moved my feet from where I had been standing,
  To examine near at hand another story,
  Which after Michal glimmered white upon me.
There the high glory of the Roman Prince
  Was chronicled, whose great beneficence
  Moved Gregory to his great victory;
'Tis of the Emperor Trajan I am speaking;
  And a poor widow at his bridle stood,
  In attitude of weeping and of grief.
Around about him seemed it thronged and full
  Of cavaliers, and the eagles in the gold
  Above them visibly in the wind were moving.
The wretched woman in the midst of these
  Seemed to be saying: "Give me vengeance, Lord,
  For my dead son, for whom my heart is breaking."
And he to answer her: "Now wait until
  I shall return."  And she: "My Lord," like one
  In whom grief is impatient, "shouldst thou not
Return?"  And he: "Who shall be where I am
  Will give it thee."  And she: "Good deed of others
  What boots it thee, if thou neglect thine own?"
Whence he: "Now comfort thee, for it behoves me
  That I discharge my duty ere I move;
  Justice so wills, and pity doth retain me."
He who on no new thing has ever looked
  Was the creator of this visible language,
  Novel to us, for here it is not found.
While I delighted me in contemplating
  The images of such humility,
  And dear to look on for their Maker's sake,
"Behold, upon this side, but rare they make
  Their steps," the Poet murmured, "many people;
  These will direct us to the lofty stairs."
Mine eyes, that in beholding were intent
  To see new things, of which they curious are,
  In turning round towards him were not slow.
But still I wish not, Reader, thou shouldst swerve
  From thy good purposes, because thou hearest
  How God ordaineth that the debt be paid;
Attend not to the fashion of the torment,
  Think of what follows; think that at the worst
  It cannot reach beyond the mighty sentence.
"Master," began I, "that which I behold
  Moving towards us seems to me not persons,
  And what I know not, so in sight I waver."
And he to me: "The grievous quality
  Of this their torment bows them so to earth,
  That my own eyes at first contended with it;
But look there fixedly, and disentangle
  By sight what cometh underneath those stones;
  Already canst thou see how each is stricken."
O ye proud Christians! wretched, weary ones!
  Who, in the vision of the mind infirm
  Confidence have in your backsliding steps,
Do ye not comprehend that we are worms,
  Born to bring forth the angelic butterfly
  That flieth unto judgment without screen?
Why floats aloft your spirit high in air?
  Like are ye unto insects undeveloped,
  Even as the worm in whom formation fails!
As to sustain a ceiling or a roof,
  In place of corbel, oftentimes a figure
  Is seen to join its knees unto its breast,
Which makes of the unreal real anguish
  Arise in him who sees it, fashioned thus
  Beheld I those, when I had ta'en good heed.
True is it, they were more or less bent down,
  According as they more or less were laden;
  And he who had most patience in his looks
Weeping did seem to say, "I can no more!"
Purgatorio: Canto XI
"Our Father, thou who dwellest in the heavens,
  Not circumscribed, but from the greater love
  Thou bearest to the first effects on high,
Praised be thy name and thine omnipotence
  By every creature, as befitting is
  To render thanks to thy sweet effluence.
Come unto us the peace of thy dominion,
  For unto it we cannot of ourselves,
  If it come not, with all our intellect.
Even as thine own Angels of their will
  Make sacrifice to thee, Hosanna singing,
  So may all men make sacrifice of theirs.
Give unto us this day our daily manna,
  Withouten which in this rough wilderness
  Backward goes he who toils most to advance.
And even as we the trespass we have suffered
  Pardon in one another, pardon thou
  Benignly, and regard not our desert.
Our virtue, which is easily o'ercome,
  Put not to proof with the old Adversary,
  But thou from him who spurs it so, deliver.
This last petition verily, dear Lord,
  Not for ourselves is made, who need it not,
  But for their sake who have remained behind us."
Thus for themselves and us good furtherance
  Those shades imploring, went beneath a weight
  Like unto that of which we sometimes dream,
Unequally in anguish round and round
  And weary all, upon that foremost cornice,
  Purging away the smoke-stains of the world.
If there good words are always said for us,
  What may not here be said and done for them,
  By those who have a good root to their will?
Well may we help them wash away the marks
  That hence they carried, so that clean and light
  They may ascend unto the starry wheels!
"Ah! so may pity and justice you disburden
  Soon, that ye may have power to move the wing,
  That shall uplift you after your desire,
Show us on which hand tow'rd the stairs the way
  Is shortest, and if more than one the passes,
  Point us out that which least abruptly falls;
For he who cometh with me, through the burden
  Of Adam's flesh wherewith he is invested,
  Against his will is chary of his climbing."
The words of theirs which they returned to those
  That he whom I was following had spoken,
  It was not manifest from whom they came,
But it was said: "To the right hand come with us
  Along the bank, and ye shall find a pass
  Possible for living person to ascend.
And were I not impeded by the stone,
  Which this proud neck of mine doth subjugate,
  Whence I am forced to hold my visage down,
Him, who still lives and does not name himself,
  Would I regard, to see if I may know him
  And make him piteous unto this burden.
A Latian was I, and born of a great Tuscan;
  Guglielmo Aldobrandeschi was my father;
  I know not if his name were ever with you.
The ancient blood and deeds of gallantry
  Of my progenitors so arrogant made me
  That, thinking not upon the common mother,
All men I held in scorn to such extent
  I died therefor, as know the Sienese,
  And every child in Campagnatico.
I am Omberto; and not to me alone
  Has pride done harm, but all my kith and kin
  Has with it dragged into adversity.
And here must I this burden bear for it
  Till God be satisfied, since I did not
  Among the living, here among the dead."
Listening I downward bent my countenance;
  And one of them, not this one who was speaking,
  Twisted himself beneath the weight that cramps him,
And looked at me, and knew me, and called out,
  Keeping his eyes laboriously fixed
  On me, who all bowed down was going with them.
"O," asked I him, "art thou not Oderisi,
  Agobbio's honour, and honour of that art
  Which is in Paris called illuminating?"
"Brother," said he, "more laughing are the leaves
  Touched by the brush of Franco Bolognese;
  All his the honour now, and mine in part.
In sooth I had not been so courteous
  While I was living, for the great desire
  Of excellence, on which my heart was bent.
Here of such pride is paid the forfeiture;
  And yet I should not be here, were it not
  That, having power to sin, I turned to God.
O thou vain glory of the human powers,
  How little green upon thy summit lingers,
  If't be not followed by an age of grossness!
In painting Cimabue thought that he
  Should hold the field, now Giotto has the cry,
  So that the other's fame is growing dim.
So has one Guido from the other taken
  The glory of our tongue, and he perchance
  Is born, who from the nest shall chase them both.
Naught is this mundane rumour but a breath
  Of wind, that comes now this way and now that,
  And changes name, because it changes side.
What fame shalt thou have more, if old peel off
  From thee thy flesh, than if thou hadst been dead
  Before thou left the 'pappo' and the 'dindi,'
Ere pass a thousand years? which is a shorter
  Space to the eterne, than twinkling of an eye
  Unto the circle that in heaven wheels slowest.
With him, who takes so little of the road
  In front of me, all Tuscany resounded;
  And now he scarce is lisped of in Siena,
Where he was lord, what time was overthrown
  The Florentine delirium, that superb
  Was at that day as now 'tis prostitute.
Your reputation is the colour of grass
  Which comes and goes, and that discolours it
  By which it issues green from out the earth."
And I: "Thy true speech fills my heart with good
  Humility, and great tumour thou assuagest;
  But who is he, of whom just now thou spakest?"
"That," he replied, "is Provenzan Salvani,
  And he is here because he had presumed
  To bring Siena all into his hands.
He has gone thus, and goeth without rest
  E'er since he died; such money renders back
  In payment he who is on earth too daring."
And I: "If every spirit who awaits
  The verge of life before that he repent,
  Remains below there and ascends not hither,
(Unless good orison shall him bestead,)
  Until as much time as he lived be passed,
  How was the coming granted him in largess?"
"When he in greatest splendour lived," said he,
  "Freely upon the Campo of Siena,
  All shame being laid aside, he placed himself;
And there to draw his friend from the duress
  Which in the prison-house of Charles he suffered,
  He brought himself to tremble in each vein.
I say no more, and know that I speak darkly;
  Yet little time shall pass before thy neighbours
  Will so demean themselves that thou canst gloss it.
This action has released him from those confines."
Purgatorio: Canto XII
Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke,
  I with that heavy-laden soul went on,
  As long as the sweet pedagogue permitted;
But when he said, "Leave him, and onward pass,
  For here 'tis good that with the sail and oars,
  As much as may be, each push on his barque;"
Upright, as walking wills it, I redressed
  My person, notwithstanding that my thoughts
  Remained within me downcast and abashed.
I had moved on, and followed willingly
  The footsteps of my Master, and we both
  Already showed how light of foot we were,
When unto me he said: "Cast down thine eyes;
  'Twere well for thee, to alleviate the way,
  To look upon the bed beneath thy feet."
As, that some memory may exist of them,
  Above the buried dead their tombs in earth
  Bear sculptured on them what they were before;
Whence often there we weep for them afresh,
  From pricking of remembrance, which alone
  To the compassionate doth set its spur;
So saw I there, but of a better semblance
  In point of artifice, with figures covered
  Whate'er as pathway from the mount projects.
I saw that one who was created noble
  More than all other creatures, down from heaven
  Flaming with lightnings fall upon one side.
I saw Briareus smitten by the dart
  Celestial, lying on the other side,
  Heavy upon the earth by mortal frost.
I saw Thymbraeus, Pallas saw, and Mars,
  Still clad in armour round about their father,
  Gaze at the scattered members of the giants.
I saw, at foot of his great labour, Nimrod,
  As if bewildered, looking at the people
  Who had been proud with him in Sennaar.
O Niobe! with what afflicted eyes
  Thee I beheld upon the pathway traced,
  Between thy seven and seven children slain!
O Saul! how fallen upon thy proper sword
  Didst thou appear there lifeless in Gilboa,
  That felt thereafter neither rain nor dew!
O mad Arachne! so I thee beheld
  E'en then half spider, sad upon the shreds
  Of fabric wrought in evil hour for thee!
O Rehoboam! no more seems to threaten
  Thine image there; but full of consternation
  A chariot bears it off, when none pursues!
Displayed moreo'er the adamantine pavement
  How unto his own mother made Alcmaeon
  Costly appear the luckless ornament;
Displayed how his own sons did throw themselves
  Upon Sennacherib within the temple,
  And how, he being dead, they left him there;
Displayed the ruin and the cruel carnage
  That Tomyris wrought, when she to Cyrus said,
  "Blood didst thou thirst for, and with blood I glut thee!"
Displayed how routed fled the Assyrians
  After that Holofernes had been slain,
  And likewise the remainder of that slaughter.
I saw there Troy in ashes and in caverns;
  O Ilion! thee, how abject and debased,
  Displayed the image that is there discerned!
Whoe'er of pencil master was or stile,
  That could portray the shades and traits which there
  Would cause each subtile genius to admire?
Dead seemed the dead, the living seemed alive;
  Better than I saw not who saw the truth,
  All that I trod upon while bowed I went.
Now wax ye proud, and on with looks uplifted,
  Ye sons of Eve, and bow not down your faces
  So that ye may behold your evil ways!
More of the mount by us was now encompassed,
  And far more spent the circuit of the sun,
  Than had the mind preoccupied imagined,
When he, who ever watchful in advance
  Was going on, began: "Lift up thy head,
  'Tis no more time to go thus meditating.
Lo there an Angel who is making haste
  To come towards us; lo, returning is
  From service of the day the sixth handmaiden.
With reverence thine acts and looks adorn,
  So that he may delight to speed us upward;
  Think that this day will never dawn again."
I was familiar with his admonition
  Ever to lose no time; so on this theme
  He could not unto me speak covertly.
Towards us came the being beautiful
  Vested in white, and in his countenance
  Such as appears the tremulous morning star.
His arms he opened, and opened then his wings;
  "Come," said he, "near at hand here are the steps,
  And easy from henceforth is the ascent."
At this announcement few are they who come!
  O human creatures, born to soar aloft,
  Why fall ye thus before a little wind?
He led us on to where the rock was cleft;
  There smote upon my forehead with his wings,
  Then a safe passage promised unto me.
As on the right hand, to ascend the mount
  Where seated is the church that lordeth it
  O'er the well-guided, above Rubaconte,
The bold abruptness of the ascent is broken
  By stairways that were made there in the age
  When still were safe the ledger and the stave,
E'en thus attempered is the bank which falls
  Sheer downward from the second circle there;
  But on this, side and that the high rock graze.
As we were turning thitherward our persons,
  "Beati pauperes spiritu," voices
  Sang in such wise that speech could tell it not.
Ah me! how different are these entrances
  From the Infernal! for with anthems here
  One enters, and below with wild laments.
We now were hunting up the sacred stairs,
  And it appeared to me by far more easy
  Than on the plain it had appeared before.
Whence I: "My Master, say, what heavy thing
  Has been uplifted from me, so that hardly
  Aught of fatigue is felt by me in walking?"
He answered: "When the P's which have remained
  Still on thy face almost obliterate
  Shall wholly, as the first is, be erased,
Thy feet will be so vanquished by good will,
  That not alone they shall not feel fatigue,
  But urging up will be to them delight."
Then did I even as they do who are going
  With something on the head to them unknown,
  Unless the signs of others make them doubt,
Wherefore the hand to ascertain is helpful,
  And seeks and finds, and doth fulfill the office
  Which cannot be accomplished by the sight;
And with the fingers of the right hand spread
  I found but six the letters, that had carved
  Upon my temples he who bore the keys;
Upon beholding which my Leader smiled.
Purgatorio: Canto XIII
We were upon the summit of the stairs,
  Where for the second time is cut away
  The mountain, which ascending shriveth all.
There in like manner doth a cornice bind
  The hill all round about, as does the first,
  Save that its arc more suddenly is curved.
Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears;
  So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth,
  With but the livid colour of the stone.
"If to inquire we wait for people here,"
  The Poet said, "I fear that peradventure
  Too much delay will our election have."
Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed,
  Made his right side the centre of his motion,
  And turned the left part of himself about.
"O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter
  Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us,"
  Said he, "as one within here should be led.
Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it;
  If other reason prompt not otherwise,
  Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!"
As much as here is counted for a mile,
  So much already there had we advanced
  In little time, by dint of ready will;
And tow'rds us there were heard to fly, albeit
  They were not visible, spirits uttering
  Unto Love's table courteous invitations,
The first voice that passed onward in its flight,
  "Vinum non habent," said in accents loud,
  And went reiterating it behind us.
And ere it wholly grew inaudible
  Because of distance, passed another, crying,
  "I am Orestes!" and it also stayed not.
"O," said I, "Father, these, what voices are they?"
  And even as I asked, behold the third,
  Saying: "Love those from whom ye have had evil!"
And the good Master said: "This circle scourges
  The sin of envy, and on that account
  Are drawn from love the lashes of the scourge.
The bridle of another sound shall be;
  I think that thou wilt hear it, as I judge,
  Before thou comest to the Pass of Pardon.
But fix thine eyes athwart the air right steadfast,
  And people thou wilt see before us sitting,
  And each one close against the cliff is seated."
Then wider than at first mine eyes I opened;
  I looked before me, and saw shades with mantles
  Not from the colour of the stone diverse.
And when we were a little farther onward,
  I heard a cry of, "Mary, pray for us!"
  A cry of, "Michael, Peter, and all Saints!"
I do not think there walketh still on earth
  A man so hard, that he would not be pierced
  With pity at what afterward I saw.
For when I had approached so near to them
  That manifest to me their acts became,
  Drained was I at the eyes by heavy grief.
Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me,
  And one sustained the other with his shoulder,
  And all of them were by the bank sustained.
Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood,
  Stand at the doors of churches asking alms,
  And one upon another leans his head,
So that in others pity soon may rise,
  Not only at the accent of their words,
  But at their aspect, which no less implores.
And as unto the blind the sun comes not,
  So to the shades, of whom just now I spake,
  Heaven's light will not be bounteous of itself;
For all their lids an iron wire transpierces,
  And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild
  Is done, because it will not quiet stay.
To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage,
  Seeing the others without being seen;
  Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage.
Well knew he what the mute one wished to say,
  And therefore waited not for my demand,
  But said: "Speak, and be brief, and to the point."
I had Virgilius upon that side
  Of the embankment from which one may fall,
  Since by no border 'tis engarlanded;
Upon the other side of me I had
  The shades devout, who through the horrible seam
  Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks.
To them I turned me, and, "O people, certain,"
  Began I, "of beholding the high light,
  Which your desire has solely in its care,
So may grace speedily dissolve the scum
  Upon your consciences, that limpidly
  Through them descend the river of the mind,
Tell me, for dear 'twill be to me and gracious,
  If any soul among you here is Latian,
  And 'twill perchance be good for him I learn it."
"O brother mine, each one is citizen
  Of one true city; but thy meaning is,
  Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim."
By way of answer this I seemed to hear
  A little farther on than where I stood,
  Whereat I made myself still nearer heard.
Among the rest I saw a shade that waited
  In aspect, and should any one ask how,
  Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man.
"Spirit," I said, "who stoopest to ascend,
  If thou art he who did reply to me,
  Make thyself known to me by place or name."
"Sienese was I," it replied, "and with
  The others here recleanse my guilty life,
  Weeping to Him to lend himself to us.
Sapient I was not, although I Sapia
  Was called, and I was at another's harm
  More happy far than at my own good fortune.
And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee,
  Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee.
  The arc already of my years descending,
My fellow-citizens near unto Colle
  Were joined in battle with their adversaries,
  And I was praying God for what he willed.
Routed were they, and turned into the bitter
  Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding,
  A joy received unequalled by all others;
So that I lifted upward my bold face
  Crying to God, 'Henceforth I fear thee not,'
  As did the blackbird at the little sunshine.
Peace I desired with God at the extreme
  Of my existence, and as yet would not
  My debt have been by penitence discharged,
Had it not been that in remembrance held me
  Pier Pettignano in his holy prayers,
  Who out of charity was grieved for me.
But who art thou, that into our conditions
  Questioning goest, and hast thine eyes unbound
  As I believe, and breathing dost discourse?"
"Mine eyes," I said, "will yet be here ta'en from me,
  But for short space; for small is the offence
  Committed by their being turned with envy.
Far greater is the fear, wherein suspended
  My soul is, of the torment underneath,
  For even now the load down there weighs on me."
And she to me: "Who led thee, then, among us
  Up here, if to return below thou thinkest?"
  And I: "He who is with me, and speaks not;
And living am I; therefore ask of me,
  Spirit elect, if thou wouldst have me move
  O'er yonder yet my mortal feet for thee."
"O, this is such a novel thing to hear,"
  She answered, "that great sign it is God loves thee;
  Therefore with prayer of thine sometimes assist me.
And I implore, by what thou most desirest,
  If e'er thou treadest the soil of Tuscany,
  Well with my kindred reinstate my fame.
Them wilt thou see among that people vain
  Who hope in Talamone, and will lose there
  More hope than in discovering the Diana;
But there still more the admirals will lose."
Purgatorio: Canto XIV
"Who is this one that goes about our mountain,
  Or ever Death has given him power of flight,
  And opes his eyes and shuts them at his will?"
"I know not who, but know he's not alone;
  Ask him thyself, for thou art nearer to him,
  And gently, so that he may speak, accost him."
Thus did two spirits, leaning tow'rds each other,
  Discourse about me there on the right hand;
  Then held supine their faces to address me.
And said the one: "O soul, that, fastened still
  Within the body, tow'rds the heaven art going,
  For charity console us, and declare
Whence comest and who art thou; for thou mak'st us
  As much to marvel at this grace of thine
  As must a thing that never yet has been."
And I: "Through midst of Tuscany there wanders
  A streamlet that is born in Falterona,
  And not a hundred miles of course suffice it;
From thereupon do I this body bring.
  To tell you who I am were speech in vain,
  Because my name as yet makes no great noise."
"If well thy meaning I can penetrate
  With intellect of mine," then answered me
  He who first spake, "thou speakest of the Arno."
And said the other to him: "Why concealed
  This one the appellation of that river,
  Even as a man doth of things horrible?"
And thus the shade that questioned was of this
  Himself acquitted: "I know not; but truly
  'Tis fit the name of such a valley perish;
For from its fountain-head (where is so pregnant
  The Alpine mountain whence is cleft Peloro
  That in few places it that mark surpasses)
To where it yields itself in restoration
  Of what the heaven doth of the sea dry up,
  Whence have the rivers that which goes with them,
Virtue is like an enemy avoided
  By all, as is a serpent, through misfortune
  Of place, or through bad habit that impels them;
On which account have so transformed their nature
  The dwellers in that miserable valley,
  It seems that Circe had them in her pasture.
'Mid ugly swine, of acorns worthier
  Than other food for human use created,
  It first directeth its impoverished way.
Curs findeth it thereafter, coming downward,
  More snarling than their puissance demands,
  And turns from them disdainfully its muzzle.
It goes on falling, and the more it grows,
  The more it finds the dogs becoming wolves,
  This maledict and misadventurous ditch.
Descended then through many a hollow gulf,
  It finds the foxes so replete with fraud,
  They fear no cunning that may master them.
Nor will I cease because another hears me;
  And well 'twill be for him, if still he mind him
  Of what a truthful spirit to me unravels.
Thy grandson I behold, who doth become
  A hunter of those wolves upon the bank
  Of the wild stream, and terrifies them all.
He sells their flesh, it being yet alive;
  Thereafter slaughters them like ancient beeves;
  Many of life, himself of praise, deprives.
Blood-stained he issues from the dismal forest;
  He leaves it such, a thousand years from now
  In its primeval state 'tis not re-wooded."
As at the announcement of impending ills
  The face of him who listens is disturbed,
  From whate'er side the peril seize upon him;
So I beheld that other soul, which stood
  Turned round to listen, grow disturbed and sad,
  When it had gathered to itself the word.
The speech of one and aspect of the other
  Had me desirous made to know their names,
  And question mixed with prayers I made thereof,
Whereat the spirit which first spake to me
  Began again: "Thou wishest I should bring me
  To do for thee what thou'lt not do for me;
But since God willeth that in thee shine forth
  Such grace of his, I'll not be chary with thee;
  Know, then, that I Guido del Duca am.
My blood was so with envy set on fire,
  That if I had beheld a man make merry,
  Thou wouldst have seen me sprinkled o'er with pallor.
From my own sowing such the straw I reap!
  O human race! why dost thou set thy heart
  Where interdict of partnership must be?
This is Renier; this is the boast and honour
  Of the house of Calboli, where no one since
  Has made himself the heir of his desert.
And not alone his blood is made devoid,
  'Twixt Po and mount, and sea-shore and the Reno,
  Of good required for truth and for diversion;
For all within these boundaries is full
  Of venomous roots, so that too tardily
  By cultivation now would they diminish.
Where is good Lizio, and Arrigo Manardi,
  Pier Traversaro, and Guido di Carpigna,
  O Romagnuoli into bastards turned?
When in Bologna will a Fabbro rise?
  When in Faenza a Bernardin di Fosco,
  The noble scion of ignoble seed?
Be not astonished, Tuscan, if I weep,
  When I remember, with Guido da Prata,
  Ugolin d' Azzo, who was living with us,
Frederick Tignoso and his company,
  The house of Traversara, and th' Anastagi,
  And one race and the other is extinct;
The dames and cavaliers, the toils and ease
  That filled our souls with love and courtesy,
  There where the hearts have so malicious grown!
O Brettinoro! why dost thou not flee,
  Seeing that all thy family is gone,
  And many people, not to be corrupted?
Bagnacaval does well in not begetting
  And ill does Castrocaro, and Conio worse,
  In taking trouble to beget such Counts.
Will do well the Pagani, when their Devil
  Shall have departed; but not therefore pure
  Will testimony of them e'er remain.
O Ugolin de' Fantoli, secure
  Thy name is, since no longer is awaited
  One who, degenerating, can obscure it!
But go now, Tuscan, for it now delights me
  To weep far better than it does to speak,
  So much has our discourse my mind distressed."
We were aware that those beloved souls
  Heard us depart; therefore, by keeping silent,
  They made us of our pathway confident.
When we became alone by going onward,
  Thunder, when it doth cleave the air, appeared
  A voice, that counter to us came, exclaiming:
"Shall slay me whosoever findeth me!"
  And fled as the reverberation dies
  If suddenly the cloud asunder bursts.
As soon as hearing had a truce from this,
  Behold another, with so great a crash,
  That it resembled thunderings following fast:
"I am Aglaurus, who became a stone!"
  And then, to press myself close to the Poet,
  I backward, and not forward, took a step.
Already on all sides the air was quiet;
  And said he to me: "That was the hard curb
  That ought to hold a man within his bounds;
But you take in the bait so that the hook
  Of the old Adversary draws you to him,
  And hence availeth little curb or call.
The heavens are calling you, and wheel around you,
  Displaying to you their eternal beauties,
  And still your eye is looking on the ground;
Whence He, who all discerns, chastises you."
Purgatorio: Canto XV
As much as 'twixt the close of the third hour
  And dawn of day appeareth of that sphere
  Which aye in fashion of a child is playing,
So much it now appeared, towards the night,
  Was of his course remaining to the sun;
  There it was evening, and 'twas midnight here;
And the rays smote the middle of our faces,
  Because by us the mount was so encircled,
  That straight towards the west we now were going
When I perceived my forehead overpowered
  Beneath the splendour far more than at first,
  And stupor were to me the things unknown,
Whereat towards the summit of my brow
  I raised my hands, and made myself the visor
  Which the excessive glare diminishes.
As when from off the water, or a mirror,
  The sunbeam leaps unto the opposite side,
  Ascending upward in the selfsame measure
That it descends, and deviates as far
  From falling of a stone in line direct,
  (As demonstrate experiment and art,)
So it appeared to me that by a light
  Refracted there before me I was smitten;
  On which account my sight was swift to flee.
"What is that, Father sweet, from which I cannot
  So fully screen my sight that it avail me,"
  Said I, "and seems towards us to be moving?"
"Marvel thou not, if dazzle thee as yet
  The family of heaven," he answered me;
  "An angel 'tis, who comes to invite us upward.
Soon will it be, that to behold these things
  Shall not be grievous, but delightful to thee
  As much as nature fashioned thee to feel."
When we had reached the Angel benedight,
  With joyful voice he said: "Here enter in
  To stairway far less steep than are the others."
We mounting were, already thence departed,
  And "Beati misericordes" was
  Behind us sung, "Rejoice, thou that o'ercomest!"
My Master and myself, we two alone
  Were going upward, and I thought, in going,
  Some profit to acquire from words of his;
And I to him directed me, thus asking:
  "What did the spirit of Romagna mean,
  Mentioning interdict and partnership?"
Whence he to me: "Of his own greatest failing
  He knows the harm; and therefore wonder not
  If he reprove us, that we less may rue it.
Because are thither pointed your desires
  Where by companionship each share is lessened,
  Envy doth ply the bellows to your sighs.
But if the love of the supernal sphere
  Should upwardly direct your aspiration,
  There would not be that fear within your breast;
For there, as much the more as one says 'Our,'
  So much the more of good each one possesses,
  And more of charity in that cloister burns."
"I am more hungering to be satisfied,"
  I said, "than if I had before been silent,
  And more of doubt within my mind I gather.
How can it be, that boon distributed
  The more possessors can more wealthy make
  Therein, than if by few it be possessed?"
And he to me: "Because thou fixest still
  Thy mind entirely upon earthly things,
  Thou pluckest darkness from the very light.
That goodness infinite and ineffable
  Which is above there, runneth unto love,
  As to a lucid body comes the sunbeam.
So much it gives itself as it finds ardour,
  So that as far as charity extends,
  O'er it increases the eternal valour.
And the more people thitherward aspire,
  More are there to love well, and more they love there,
  And, as a mirror, one reflects the other.
And if my reasoning appease thee not,
  Thou shalt see Beatrice; and she will fully
  Take from thee this and every other longing.
Endeavour, then, that soon may be extinct,
  As are the two already, the five wounds
  That close themselves again by being painful."
Even as I wished to say, "Thou dost appease me,"
  I saw that I had reached another circle,
  So that my eager eyes made me keep silence.
There it appeared to me that in a vision
  Ecstatic on a sudden I was rapt,
  And in a temple many persons saw;
And at the door a woman, with the sweet
  Behaviour of a mother, saying: "Son,
  Why in this manner hast thou dealt with us?
Lo, sorrowing, thy father and myself
  Were seeking for thee;"--and as here she ceased,
  That which appeared at first had disappeared.
Then I beheld another with those waters
  Adown her cheeks which grief distils whenever
  From great disdain of others it is born,
And saying: "If of that city thou art lord,
  For whose name was such strife among the gods,
  And whence doth every science scintillate,
Avenge thyself on those audacious arms
  That clasped our daughter, O Pisistratus;"
  And the lord seemed to me benign and mild
To answer her with aspect temperate:
  "What shall we do to those who wish us ill,
  If he who loves us be by us condemned?"
Then saw I people hot in fire of wrath,
  With stones a young man slaying, clamorously
  Still crying to each other, "Kill him! kill him!"
And him I saw bow down, because of death
  That weighed already on him, to the earth,
  But of his eyes made ever gates to heaven,
Imploring the high Lord, in so great strife,
  That he would pardon those his persecutors,
  With such an aspect as unlocks compassion.
Soon as my soul had outwardly returned
  To things external to it which are true,
  Did I my not false errors recognize.
My Leader, who could see me bear myself
  Like to a man that rouses him from sleep,
  Exclaimed: "What ails thee, that thou canst not stand?
But hast been coming more than half a league
  Veiling thine eyes, and with thy legs entangled,
  In guise of one whom wine or sleep subdues?"
"O my sweet Father, if thou listen to me,
  I'll tell thee," said I, "what appeared to me,
  When thus from me my legs were ta'en away."
And he: "If thou shouldst have a hundred masks
  Upon thy face, from me would not be shut
  Thy cogitations, howsoever small.
What thou hast seen was that thou mayst not fail
  To ope thy heart unto the waters of peace,
  Which from the eternal fountain are diffused.
I did not ask, 'What ails thee?' as he does
  Who only looketh with the eyes that see not
  When of the soul bereft the body lies,
But asked it to give vigour to thy feet;
  Thus must we needs urge on the sluggards, slow
  To use their wakefulness when it returns."
We passed along, athwart the twilight peering
  Forward as far as ever eye could stretch
  Against the sunbeams serotine and lucent;
And lo! by slow degrees a smoke approached
  In our direction, sombre as the night,
  Nor was there place to hide one's self therefrom.
This of our eyes and the pure air bereft us.
Purgatorio: Canto XVI
Darkness of hell, and of a night deprived
  Of every planet under a poor sky,
  As much as may be tenebrous with cloud,
Ne'er made unto my sight so thick a veil,
  As did that smoke which there enveloped us,
  Nor to the feeling of so rough a texture;
For not an eye it suffered to stay open;
  Whereat mine escort, faithful and sagacious,
  Drew near to me and offered me his shoulder.
E'en as a blind man goes behind his guide,
  Lest he should wander, or should strike against
  Aught that may harm or peradventure kill him,
So went I through the bitter and foul air,
  Listening unto my Leader, who said only,
  "Look that from me thou be not separated."
Voices I heard, and every one appeared
  To supplicate for peace and misericord
  The Lamb of God who takes away our sins.
Still "Agnus Dei" their exordium was;
  One word there was in all, and metre one,
  So that all harmony appeared among them.
"Master," I said, "are spirits those I hear?"
  And he to me: "Thou apprehendest truly,
  And they the knot of anger go unloosing."
"Now who art thou, that cleavest through our smoke
  And art discoursing of us even as though
  Thou didst by calends still divide the time?"
After this manner by a voice was spoken;
  Whereon my Master said: "Do thou reply,
  And ask if on this side the way go upward."
And I: "O creature that dost cleanse thyself
  To return beautiful to Him who made thee,
  Thou shalt hear marvels if thou follow me."
"Thee will I follow far as is allowed me,"
  He answered; "and if smoke prevent our seeing,
  Hearing shall keep us joined instead thereof."
Thereon began I: "With that swathing band
  Which death unwindeth am I going upward,
  And hither came I through the infernal anguish.
And if God in his grace has me infolded,
  So that he wills that I behold his court
  By method wholly out of modern usage,
Conceal not from me who ere death thou wast,
  But tell it me, and tell me if I go
  Right for the pass, and be thy words our escort."
"Lombard was I, and I was Marco called;
  The world I knew, and loved that excellence,
  At which has each one now unbent his bow.
For mounting upward, thou art going right."
  Thus he made answer, and subjoined: "I pray thee
  To pray for me when thou shalt be above."
And I to him: "My faith I pledge to thee
  To do what thou dost ask me; but am bursting
  Inly with doubt, unless I rid me of it.
First it was simple, and is now made double
  By thy opinion, which makes certain to me,
  Here and elsewhere, that which I couple with it.
The world forsooth is utterly deserted
  By every virtue, as thou tellest me,
  And with iniquity is big and covered;
But I beseech thee point me out the cause,
  That I may see it, and to others show it;
  For one in the heavens, and here below one puts it."
A sigh profound, that grief forced into Ai!
  He first sent forth, and then began he: "Brother,
  The world is blind, and sooth thou comest from it!
Ye who are living every cause refer
  Still upward to the heavens, as if all things
  They of necessity moved with themselves.
If this were so, in you would be destroyed
  Free will, nor any justice would there be
  In having joy for good, or grief for evil.
The heavens your movements do initiate,
  I say not all; but granting that I say it,
  Light has been given you for good and evil,
And free volition; which, if some fatigue
  In the first battles with the heavens it suffers,
  Afterwards conquers all, if well 'tis nurtured.
To greater force and to a better nature,
  Though free, ye subject are, and that creates
  The mind in you the heavens have not in charge.
Hence, if the present world doth go astray,
  In you the cause is, be it sought in you;
  And I therein will now be thy true spy.
Forth from the hand of Him, who fondles it
  Before it is, like to a little girl
  Weeping and laughing in her childish sport,
Issues the simple soul, that nothing knows,
  Save that, proceeding from a joyous Maker,
  Gladly it turns to that which gives it pleasure.
Of trivial good at first it tastes the savour;
  Is cheated by it, and runs after it,
  If guide or rein turn not aside its love.
Hence it behoved laws for a rein to place,
  Behoved a king to have, who at the least
  Of the true city should discern the tower.
The laws exist, but who sets hand to them?
  No one; because the shepherd who precedes
  Can ruminate, but cleaveth not the hoof;
Wherefore the people that perceives its guide
  Strike only at the good for which it hankers,
  Feeds upon that, and farther seeketh not.
Clearly canst thou perceive that evil guidance
  The cause is that has made the world depraved,
  And not that nature is corrupt in you.
Rome, that reformed the world, accustomed was
  Two suns to have, which one road and the other,
  Of God and of the world, made manifest.
One has the other quenched, and to the crosier
  The sword is joined, and ill beseemeth it
  That by main force one with the other go,
Because, being joined, one feareth not the other;
  If thou believe not, think upon the grain,
  For by its seed each herb is recognized.
In the land laved by Po and Adige,
  Valour and courtesy used to be found,
  Before that Frederick had his controversy;
Now in security can pass that way
  Whoever will abstain, through sense of shame,
  From speaking with the good, or drawing near them.
True, three old men are left, in whom upbraids
  The ancient age the new, and late they deem it
  That God restore them to the better life:
Currado da Palazzo, and good Gherardo,
  And Guido da Castel, who better named is,
  In fashion of the French, the simple Lombard:
Say thou henceforward that the Church of Rome,
  Confounding in itself two governments,
  Falls in the mire, and soils itself and burden."
"O Marco mine," I said, "thou reasonest well;
  And now discern I why the sons of Levi
  Have been excluded from the heritage.
But what Gherardo is it, who, as sample
  Of a lost race, thou sayest has remained
  In reprobation of the barbarous age?"
"Either thy speech deceives me, or it tempts me,"
  He answered me; "for speaking Tuscan to me,
  It seems of good Gherardo naught thou knowest.
By other surname do I know him not,
  Unless I take it from his daughter Gaia.
  May God be with you, for I come no farther.
Behold the dawn, that through the smoke rays out,
  Already whitening; and I must depart--
  Yonder the Angel is--ere he appear."
Thus did he speak, and would no farther hear me.
Purgatorio: Canto XVII
Remember, Reader, if e'er in the Alps
  A mist o'ertook thee, through which thou couldst see
  Not otherwise than through its membrane mole,
How, when the vapours humid and condensed
  Begin to dissipate themselves, the sphere
  Of the sun feebly enters in among them,
And thy imagination will be swift
  In coming to perceive how I re-saw
  The sun at first, that was already setting.
Thus, to the faithful footsteps of my Master
  Mating mine own, I issued from that cloud
  To rays already dead on the low shores.
O thou, Imagination, that dost steal us
  So from without sometimes, that man perceives not,
  Although around may sound a thousand trumpets,
Who moveth thee, if sense impel thee not?
  Moves thee a light, which in the heaven takes form,
  By self, or by a will that downward guides it.
Of her impiety, who changed her form
  Into the bird that most delights in singing,
  In my imagining appeared the trace;
And hereupon my mind was so withdrawn
  Within itself, that from without there came
  Nothing that then might be received by it.
Then reigned within my lofty fantasy
  One crucified, disdainful and ferocious
  In countenance, and even thus was dying.
Around him were the great Ahasuerus,
  Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai,
  Who was in word and action so entire.
And even as this image burst asunder
  Of its own self, in fashion of a bubble
  In which the water it was made of fails,
There rose up in my vision a young maiden
  Bitterly weeping, and she said: "O queen,
  Why hast thou wished in anger to be naught?
Thou'st slain thyself, Lavinia not to lose;
  Now hast thou lost me; I am she who mourns,
  Mother, at thine ere at another's ruin."
As sleep is broken, when upon a sudden
  New light strikes in upon the eyelids closed,
  And broken quivers ere it dieth wholly,
So this imagining of mine fell down
  As soon as the effulgence smote my face,
  Greater by far than what is in our wont.
I turned me round to see where I might be,
  When said a voice, "Here is the passage up;"
  Which from all other purposes removed me,
And made my wish so full of eagerness
  To look and see who was it that was speaking,
  It never rests till meeting face to face;
But as before the sun, which quells the sight,
  And in its own excess its figure veils,
  Even so my power was insufficient here.
"This is a spirit divine, who in the way
  Of going up directs us without asking,
  And who with his own light himself conceals.
He does with us as man doth with himself;
  For he who sees the need, and waits the asking,
  Malignly leans already tow'rds denial.
Accord we now our feet to such inviting,
  Let us make haste to mount ere it grow dark;
  For then we could not till the day return."
Thus my Conductor said; and I and he
  Together turned our footsteps to a stairway;
  And I, as soon as the first step I reached,
Near me perceived a motion as of wings,
  And fanning in the face, and saying, "'Beati
  Pacifici,' who are without ill anger."
Already over us were so uplifted
  The latest sunbeams, which the night pursues,
  That upon many sides the stars appeared.
"O manhood mine, why dost thou vanish so?"
  I said within myself; for I perceived
  The vigour of my legs was put in truce.
We at the point were where no more ascends
  The stairway upward, and were motionless,
  Even as a ship, which at the shore arrives;
And I gave heed a little, if I might hear
  Aught whatsoever in the circle new;
  Then to my Master turned me round and said:
"Say, my sweet Father, what delinquency
  Is purged here in the circle where we are?
  Although our feet may pause, pause not thy speech."
And he to me: "The love of good, remiss
  In what it should have done, is here restored;
  Here plied again the ill-belated oar;
But still more openly to understand,
  Turn unto me thy mind, and thou shalt gather
  Some profitable fruit from our delay.
Neither Creator nor a creature ever,
  Son," he began, "was destitute of love
  Natural or spiritual; and thou knowest it.
The natural was ever without error;
  But err the other may by evil object,
  Or by too much, or by too little vigour.
While in the first it well directed is,
  And in the second moderates itself,
  It cannot be the cause of sinful pleasure;
But when to ill it turns, and, with more care
  Or lesser than it ought, runs after good,
  'Gainst the Creator works his own creation.
Hence thou mayst comprehend that love must be
  The seed within yourselves of every virtue,
  And every act that merits punishment.
Now inasmuch as never from the welfare
  Of its own subject can love turn its sight,
  From their own hatred all things are secure;
And since we cannot think of any being
  Standing alone, nor from the First divided,
  Of hating Him is all desire cut off.
Hence if, discriminating, I judge well,
  The evil that one loves is of one's neighbour,
  And this is born in three modes in your clay.
There are, who, by abasement of their neighbour,
  Hope to excel, and therefore only long
  That from his greatness he may be cast down;
There are, who power, grace, honour, and renown
  Fear they may lose because another rises,
  Thence are so sad that the reverse they love;
And there are those whom injury seems to chafe,
  So that it makes them greedy for revenge,
  And such must needs shape out another's harm.
This threefold love is wept for down below;
  Now of the other will I have thee hear,
  That runneth after good with measure faulty.
Each one confusedly a good conceives
  Wherein the mind may rest, and longeth for it;
  Therefore to overtake it each one strives.
If languid love to look on this attract you,
  Or in attaining unto it, this cornice,
  After just penitence, torments you for it.
There's other good that does not make man happy;
  'Tis not felicity, 'tis not the good
  Essence, of every good the fruit and root.
The love that yields itself too much to this
  Above us is lamented in three circles;
  But how tripartite it may be described,
I say not, that thou seek it for thyself."
Purgatorio: Canto XVIII
An end had put unto his reasoning
  The lofty Teacher, and attent was looking
  Into my face, if I appeared content;
And I, whom a new thirst still goaded on,
  Without was mute, and said within: "Perchance
  The too much questioning I make annoys him."
But that true Father, who had comprehended
  The timid wish, that opened not itself,
  By speaking gave me hardihood to speak.
Whence I: "My sight is, Master, vivified
  So in thy light, that clearly I discern
  Whate'er thy speech importeth or describes.
Therefore I thee entreat, sweet Father dear,
  To teach me love, to which thou dost refer
  Every good action and its contrary."
"Direct," he said, "towards me the keen eyes
  Of intellect, and clear will be to thee
  The error of the blind, who would be leaders.
The soul, which is created apt to love,
  Is mobile unto everything that pleases,
  Soon as by pleasure she is waked to action.
Your apprehension from some real thing
  An image draws, and in yourselves displays it
  So that it makes the soul turn unto it.
And if, when turned, towards it she incline,
  Love is that inclination; it is nature,
  Which is by pleasure bound in you anew
Then even as the fire doth upward move
  By its own form, which to ascend is born,
  Where longest in its matter it endures,
So comes the captive soul into desire,
  Which is a motion spiritual, and ne'er rests
  Until she doth enjoy the thing beloved.
Now may apparent be to thee how hidden
  The truth is from those people, who aver
  All love is in itself a laudable thing;
Because its matter may perchance appear
  Aye to be good; but yet not each impression
  Is good, albeit good may be the wax."
"Thy words, and my sequacious intellect,"
  I answered him, "have love revealed to me;
  But that has made me more impregned with doubt;
For if love from without be offered us,
  And with another foot the soul go not,
  If right or wrong she go, 'tis not her merit."
And he to me: "What reason seeth here,
  Myself can tell thee; beyond that await
  For Beatrice, since 'tis a work of faith.
Every substantial form, that segregate
  From matter is, and with it is united,
  Specific power has in itself collected,
Which without act is not perceptible,
  Nor shows itself except by its effect,
  As life does in a plant by the green leaves.
But still, whence cometh the intelligence
  Of the first notions, man is ignorant,
  And the affection for the first allurements,
Which are in you as instinct in the bee
  To make its honey; and this first desire
  Merit of praise or blame containeth not.
Now, that to this all others may be gathered,
  Innate within you is the power that counsels,
  And it should keep the threshold of assent.
This is the principle, from which is taken
  Occasion of desert in you, according
  As good and guilty loves it takes and winnows.
Those who, in reasoning, to the bottom went,
  Were of this innate liberty aware,
  Therefore bequeathed they Ethics to the world.
Supposing, then, that from necessity
  Springs every love that is within you kindled,
  Within yourselves the power is to restrain it.
The noble virtue Beatrice understands
  By the free will; and therefore see that thou
  Bear it in mind, if she should speak of it."
The moon, belated almost unto midnight,
  Now made the stars appear to us more rare,
  Formed like a bucket, that is all ablaze,
And counter to the heavens ran through those paths
  Which the sun sets aflame, when he of Rome
  Sees it 'twixt Sardes and Corsicans go down;
And that patrician shade, for whom is named
  Pietola more than any Mantuan town,
  Had laid aside the burden of my lading;
Whence I, who reason manifest and plain
  In answer to my questions had received,
  Stood like a man in drowsy reverie.
But taken from me was this drowsiness
  Suddenly by a people, that behind
  Our backs already had come round to us.
And as, of old, Ismenus and Asopus
  Beside them saw at night the rush and throng,
  If but the Thebans were in need of Bacchus,
So they along that circle curve their step,
  From what I saw of those approaching us,
  Who by good-will and righteous love are ridden.
Full soon they were upon us, because running
  Moved onward all that mighty multitude,
  And two in the advance cried out, lamenting,
"Mary in haste unto the mountain ran,
  And Caesar, that he might subdue Ilerda,
  Thrust at Marseilles, and then ran into Spain."
"Quick! quick! so that the time may not be lost
  By little love!" forthwith the others cried,
  "For ardour in well-doing freshens grace!"
"O folk, in whom an eager fervour now
  Supplies perhaps delay and negligence,
  Put by you in well-doing, through lukewarmness,
This one who lives, and truly I lie not,
  Would fain go up, if but the sun relight us;
  So tell us where the passage nearest is."
These were the words of him who was my Guide;
  And some one of those spirits said: "Come on
  Behind us, and the opening shalt thou find;
So full of longing are we to move onward,
  That stay we cannot; therefore pardon us,
  If thou for churlishness our justice take.
I was San Zeno's Abbot at Verona,
  Under the empire of good Barbarossa,
  Of whom still sorrowing Milan holds discourse;
And he has one foot in the grave already,
  Who shall erelong lament that monastery,
  And sorry be of having there had power,
Because his son, in his whole body sick,
  And worse in mind, and who was evil-born,
  He put into the place of its true pastor."
If more he said, or silent was, I know not,
  He had already passed so far beyond us;
  But this I heard, and to retain it pleased me.
And he who was in every need my succour
  Said: "Turn thee hitherward; see two of them
  Come fastening upon slothfulness their teeth."
In rear of all they shouted: "Sooner were
  The people dead to whom the sea was opened,
  Than their inheritors the Jordan saw;
And those who the fatigue did not endure
  Unto the issue, with Anchises' son,
  Themselves to life withouten glory offered."
Then when from us so separated were
  Those shades, that they no longer could be seen,
  Within me a new thought did entrance find,
Whence others many and diverse were born;
  And so I lapsed from one into another,
  That in a reverie mine eyes I closed,
And meditation into dream transmuted.
Purgatorio: Canto XIX
It was the hour when the diurnal heat
  No more can warm the coldness of the moon,
  Vanquished by earth, or peradventure Saturn,
When geomancers their Fortuna Major
  See in the orient before the dawn
  Rise by a path that long remains not dim,
There came to me in dreams a stammering woman,
  Squint in her eyes, and in her feet distorted,
  With hands dissevered and of sallow hue.
I looked at her; and as the sun restores
  The frigid members which the night benumbs,
  Even thus my gaze did render voluble
Her tongue, and made her all erect thereafter
  In little while, and the lost countenance
  As love desires it so in her did colour.
When in this wise she had her speech unloosed,
  She 'gan to sing so, that with difficulty
  Could I have turned my thoughts away from her.
"I am," she sang, "I am the Siren sweet
  Who mariners amid the main unman,
  So full am I of pleasantness to hear.
I drew Ulysses from his wandering way
  Unto my song, and he who dwells with me
  Seldom departs so wholly I content him."
Her mouth was not yet closed again, before
  Appeared a Lady saintly and alert
  Close at my side to put her to confusion.
"Virgilius, O Virgilius! who is this?"
  Sternly she said; and he was drawing near
  With eyes still fixed upon that modest one.
She seized the other and in front laid open,
  Rending her garments, and her belly showed me;
  This waked me with the stench that issued from it.
I turned mine eyes, and good Virgilius said:
  "At least thrice have I called thee; rise and come;
  Find we the opening by which thou mayst enter."
I rose; and full already of high day
  Were all the circles of the Sacred Mountain,
  And with the new sun at our back we went.
Following behind him, I my forehead bore
  Like unto one who has it laden with thought,
  Who makes himself the half arch of a bridge,
When I heard say, "Come, here the passage is,"
  Spoken in a manner gentle and benign,
  Such as we hear not in this mortal region.
With open wings, which of a swan appeared,
  Upward he turned us who thus spake to us,
  Between the two walls of the solid granite.
He moved his pinions afterwards and fanned us,
  Affirming those 'qui lugent' to be blessed,
  For they shall have their souls with comfort filled.
"What aileth thee, that aye to earth thou gazest?"
  To me my Guide began to say, we both
  Somewhat beyond the Angel having mounted.
And I: "With such misgiving makes me go
  A vision new, which bends me to itself,
  So that I cannot from the thought withdraw me."
"Didst thou behold," he said, "that old enchantress,
  Who sole above us henceforth is lamented?
  Didst thou behold how man is freed from her?
Suffice it thee, and smite earth with thy heels,
  Thine eyes lift upward to the lure, that whirls
  The Eternal King with revolutions vast."
Even as the hawk, that first his feet surveys,
  Then turns him to the call and stretches forward,
  Through the desire of food that draws him thither,
Such I became, and such, as far as cleaves
  The rock to give a way to him who mounts,
  Went on to where the circling doth begin.
On the fifth circle when I had come forth,
  People I saw upon it who were weeping,
  Stretched prone upon the ground, all downward turned.
"Adhaesit pavimento anima mea,"
  I heard them say with sighings so profound,
  That hardly could the words be understood.
"O ye elect of God, whose sufferings
  Justice and Hope both render less severe,
  Direct ye us towards the high ascents."
"If ye are come secure from this prostration,
  And wish to find the way most speedily,
  Let your right hands be evermore outside."
Thus did the Poet ask, and thus was answered
  By them somewhat in front of us; whence I
  In what was spoken divined the rest concealed,
And unto my Lord's eyes mine eyes I turned;
  Whence he assented with a cheerful sign
  To what the sight of my desire implored.
When of myself I could dispose at will,
  Above that creature did I draw myself,
  Whose words before had caused me to take note,
Saying: "O Spirit, in whom weeping ripens
  That without which to God we cannot turn,
  Suspend awhile for me thy greater care.
Who wast thou, and why are your backs turned upwards,
  Tell me, and if thou wouldst that I procure thee
  Anything there whence living I departed."
And he to me: "Wherefore our backs the heaven
  Turns to itself, know shalt thou; but beforehand
  'Scias quod ego fui successor Petri.'
Between Siestri and Chiaveri descends
  A river beautiful, and of its name
  The title of my blood its summit makes.
A month and little more essayed I how
  Weighs the great cloak on him from mire who keeps it,
  For all the other burdens seem a feather.
Tardy, ah woe is me! was my conversion;
  But when the Roman Shepherd I was made,
  Then I discovered life to be a lie.
I saw that there the heart was not at rest,
  Nor farther in that life could one ascend;
  Whereby the love of this was kindled in me.
Until that time a wretched soul and parted
  From God was I, and wholly avaricious;
  Now, as thou seest, I here am punished for it.
What avarice does is here made manifest
  In the purgation of these souls converted,
  And no more bitter pain the Mountain has.
Even as our eye did not uplift itself
  Aloft, being fastened upon earthly things,
  So justice here has merged it in the earth.
As avarice had extinguished our affection
  For every good, whereby was action lost,
  So justice here doth hold us in restraint,
Bound and imprisoned by the feet and hands;
  And so long as it pleases the just Lord
  Shall we remain immovable and prostrate."
I on my knees had fallen, and wished to speak;
  But even as I began, and he was 'ware,
  Only by listening, of my reverence,
"What cause," he said, "has downward bent thee thus?"
  And I to him: "For your own dignity,
  Standing, my conscience stung me with remorse."
"Straighten thy legs, and upward raise thee, brother,"
  He answered: "Err not, fellow-servant am I
  With thee and with the others to one power.
If e'er that holy, evangelic sound,
  Which sayeth 'neque nubent,' thou hast heard,
  Well canst thou see why in this wise I speak.
Now go; no longer will I have thee linger,
  Because thy stay doth incommode my weeping,
  With which I ripen that which thou hast said.
On earth I have a grandchild named Alagia,
  Good in herself, unless indeed our house
  Malevolent may make her by example,
And she alone remains to me on earth."
Purgatorio: Canto XX
Ill strives the will against a better will;
  Therefore, to pleasure him, against my pleasure
  I drew the sponge not saturate from the water.
Onward I moved, and onward moved my Leader,
  Through vacant places, skirting still the rock,
  As on a wall close to the battlements;
For they that through their eyes pour drop by drop
  The malady which all the world pervades,
  On the other side too near the verge approach.
Accursed mayst thou be, thou old she-wolf,
  That more than all the other beasts hast prey,
  Because of hunger infinitely hollow!
O heaven, in whose gyrations some appear
  To think conditions here below are changed,
  When will he come through whom she shall depart?
Onward we went with footsteps slow and scarce,
  And I attentive to the shades I heard
  Piteously weeping and bemoaning them;
And I by peradventure heard "Sweet Mary!"
  Uttered in front of us amid the weeping
  Even as a woman does who is in child-birth;
And in continuance: "How poor thou wast
  Is manifested by that hostelry
  Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down."
Thereafterward I heard: "O good Fabricius,
  Virtue with poverty didst thou prefer
  To the possession of great wealth with vice."
So pleasurable were these words to me
  That I drew farther onward to have knowledge
  Touching that spirit whence they seemed to come.
He furthermore was speaking of the largess
  Which Nicholas unto the maidens gave,
  In order to conduct their youth to honour.
"O soul that dost so excellently speak,
  Tell me who wast thou," said I, "and why only
  Thou dost renew these praises well deserved?
Not without recompense shall be thy word,
  If I return to finish the short journey
  Of that life which is flying to its end."
And he: "I'll tell thee, not for any comfort
  I may expect from earth, but that so much
  Grace shines in thee or ever thou art dead.
I was the root of that malignant plant
  Which overshadows all the Christian world,
  So that good fruit is seldom gathered from it;
But if Douay and Ghent, and Lille and Bruges
  Had Power, soon vengeance would be taken on it;
  And this I pray of Him who judges all.
Hugh Capet was I called upon the earth;
  From me were born the Louises and Philips,
  By whom in later days has France been governed.
I was the son of a Parisian butcher,
  What time the ancient kings had perished all,
  Excepting one, contrite in cloth of gray.
I found me grasping in my hands the rein
  Of the realm's government, and so great power
  Of new acquest, and so with friends abounding,
That to the widowed diadem promoted
  The head of mine own offspring was, from whom
  The consecrated bones of these began.
So long as the great dowry of Provence
  Out of my blood took not the sense of shame,
  'Twas little worth, but still it did no harm.
Then it began with falsehood and with force
  Its rapine; and thereafter, for amends,
  Took Ponthieu, Normandy, and Gascony.
Charles came to Italy, and for amends
  A victim made of Conradin, and then
  Thrust Thomas back to heaven, for amends.
A time I see, not very distant now,
  Which draweth forth another Charles from France,
  The better to make known both him and his.
Unarmed he goes, and only with the lance
  That Judas jousted with; and that he thrusts
  So that he makes the paunch of Florence burst.
He thence not land, but sin and infamy,
  Shall gain, so much more grievous to himself
  As the more light such damage he accounts.
The other, now gone forth, ta'en in his ship,
  See I his daughter sell, and chaffer for her
  As corsairs do with other female slaves.
What more, O Avarice, canst thou do to us,
  Since thou my blood so to thyself hast drawn,
  It careth not for its own proper flesh?
That less may seem the future ill and past,
  I see the flower-de-luce Alagna enter,
  And Christ in his own Vicar captive made.
I see him yet another time derided;
  I see renewed the vinegar and gall,
  And between living thieves I see him slain.
I see the modern Pilate so relentless,
  This does not sate him, but without decretal
  He to the temple bears his sordid sails!
When, O my Lord! shall I be joyful made
  By looking on the vengeance which, concealed,
  Makes sweet thine anger in thy secrecy?
What I was saying of that only bride
  Of the Holy Ghost, and which occasioned thee
  To turn towards me for some commentary,
So long has been ordained to all our prayers
  As the day lasts; but when the night comes on,
  Contrary sound we take instead thereof.
At that time we repeat Pygmalion,
  Of whom a traitor, thief, and parricide
  Made his insatiable desire of gold;
And the misery of avaricious Midas,
  That followed his inordinate demand,
  At which forevermore one needs but laugh.
The foolish Achan each one then records,
  And how he stole the spoils; so that the wrath
  Of Joshua still appears to sting him here.
Then we accuse Sapphira with her husband,
  We laud the hoof-beats Heliodorus had,
  And the whole mount in infamy encircles
Polymnestor who murdered Polydorus.
  Here finally is cried: 'O Crassus, tell us,
  For thou dost know, what is the taste of gold?'
Sometimes we speak, one loud, another low,
  According to desire of speech, that spurs us
  To greater now and now to lesser pace.
But in the good that here by day is talked of,
  Erewhile alone I was not; yet near by
  No other person lifted up his voice."
From him already we departed were,
  And made endeavour to o'ercome the road
  As much as was permitted to our power,
When I perceived, like something that is falling,
  The mountain tremble, whence a chill seized on me,
  As seizes him who to his death is going.
Certes so violently shook not Delos,
  Before Latona made her nest therein
  To give birth to the two eyes of the heaven.
Then upon all sides there began a cry,
  Such that the Master drew himself towards me,
  Saying, "Fear not, while I am guiding thee."
"Gloria in excelsis Deo," all
  Were saying, from what near I comprehended,
  Where it was possible to hear the cry.
We paused immovable and in suspense,
  Even as the shepherds who first heard that song,
  Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished.
Then we resumed again our holy path,
  Watching the shades that lay upon the ground,
  Already turned to their accustomed plaint.
No ignorance ever with so great a strife
  Had rendered me importunate to know,
  If erreth not in this my memory,
As meditating then I seemed to have;
  Nor out of haste to question did I dare,
  Nor of myself I there could aught perceive;
So I went onward timorous and thoughtful.
Purgatorio: Canto XXI
The natural thirst, that ne'er is satisfied
  Excepting with the water for whose grace
  The woman of Samaria besought,
Put me in travail, and haste goaded me
  Along the encumbered path behind my Leader
  And I was pitying that righteous vengeance;
And lo! in the same manner as Luke writeth
  That Christ appeared to two upon the way
  From the sepulchral cave already risen,
A shade appeared to us, and came behind us,
  Down gazing on the prostrate multitude,
  Nor were we ware of it, until it spake,
Saying, "My brothers, may God give you peace!"
  We turned us suddenly, and Virgilius rendered
  To him the countersign thereto conforming.
Thereon began he: "In the blessed council,
  Thee may the court veracious place in peace,
  That me doth banish in eternal exile!"
"How," said he, and the while we went with speed,
  "If ye are shades whom God deigns not on high,
  Who up his stairs so far has guided you?"
And said my Teacher: "If thou note the marks
  Which this one bears, and which the Angel traces
  Well shalt thou see he with the good must reign.
But because she who spinneth day and night
  For him had not yet drawn the distaff off,
  Which Clotho lays for each one and compacts,
His soul, which is thy sister and my own,
  In coming upwards could not come alone,
  By reason that it sees not in our fashion.
Whence I was drawn from out the ample throat
  Of Hell to be his guide, and I shall guide him
  As far on as my school has power to lead.
But tell us, if thou knowest, why such a shudder
  Erewhile the mountain gave, and why together
  All seemed to cry, as far as its moist feet?"
In asking he so hit the very eye
  Of my desire, that merely with the hope
  My thirst became the less unsatisfied.
"Naught is there," he began, "that without order
  May the religion of the mountain feel,
  Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom.
Free is it here from every permutation;
  What from itself heaven in itself receiveth
  Can be of this the cause, and naught beside;
Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow,
  Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher falls
  Than the short, little stairway of three steps.
Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied,
  Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas,
  That often upon earth her region shifts;
No arid vapour any farther rises
  Than to the top of the three steps I spake of,
  Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet.
Lower down perchance it trembles less or more,
  But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden
  I know not how, up here it never trembled.
It trembles here, whenever any soul
  Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves
  To mount aloft, and such a cry attends it.
Of purity the will alone gives proof,
  Which, being wholly free to change its convent,
  Takes by surprise the soul, and helps it fly.
First it wills well; but the desire permits not,
  Which divine justice with the self-same will
  There was to sin, upon the torment sets.
And I, who have been lying in this pain
  Five hundred years and more, but just now felt
  A free volition for a better seat.
Therefore thou heardst the earthquake, and the pious
  Spirits along the mountain rendering praise
  Unto the Lord, that soon he speed them upwards."
So said he to him; and since we enjoy
  As much in drinking as the thirst is great,
  I could not say how much it did me good.
And the wise Leader: "Now I see the net
  That snares you here, and how ye are set free,
  Why the earth quakes, and wherefore ye rejoice.
Now who thou wast be pleased that I may know;
  And why so many centuries thou hast here
  Been lying, let me gather from thy words."
"In days when the good Titus, with the aid
  Of the supremest King, avenged the wounds
  Whence issued forth the blood by Judas sold,
Under the name that most endures and honours,
  Was I on earth," that spirit made reply,
  "Greatly renowned, but not with faith as yet.
My vocal spirit was so sweet, that Rome
  Me, a Thoulousian, drew unto herself,
  Where I deserved to deck my brows with myrtle.
Statius the people name me still on earth;
  I sang of Thebes, and then of great Achilles;
  But on the way fell with my second burden.
The seeds unto my ardour were the sparks
  Of that celestial flame which heated me,
  Whereby more than a thousand have been fired;
Of the Aeneid speak I, which to me
  A mother was, and was my nurse in song;
  Without this weighed I not a drachma's weight.
And to have lived upon the earth what time
  Virgilius lived, I would accept one sun
  More than I must ere issuing from my ban."
These words towards me made Virgilius turn
  With looks that in their silence said, "Be silent!"
  But yet the power that wills cannot do all things;
For tears and laughter are such pursuivants
  Unto the passion from which each springs forth,
  In the most truthful least the will they follow.
I only smiled, as one who gives the wink;
  Whereat the shade was silent, and it gazed
  Into mine eyes, where most expression dwells;
And, "As thou well mayst consummate a labour
  So great," it said, "why did thy face just now
  Display to me the lightning of a smile?"
Now am I caught on this side and on that;
  One keeps me silent, one to speak conjures me,
  Wherefore I sigh, and I am understood.
"Speak," said my Master, "and be not afraid
  Of speaking, but speak out, and say to him
  What he demands with such solicitude."
Whence I: "Thou peradventure marvellest,
  O antique spirit, at the smile I gave;
  But I will have more wonder seize upon thee.
This one, who guides on high these eyes of mine,
  Is that Virgilius, from whom thou didst learn
  To sing aloud of men and of the Gods.
If other cause thou to my smile imputedst,
  Abandon it as false, and trust it was
  Those words which thou hast spoken concerning him."
Already he was stooping to embrace
  My Teacher's feet; but he said to him: "Brother,
  Do not; for shade thou art, and shade beholdest."
And he uprising: "Now canst thou the sum
  Of love which warms me to thee comprehend,
  When this our vanity I disremember,
Treating a shadow as substantial thing."
Purgatorio: Canto XXII
Already was the Angel left behind us,
  The Angel who to the sixth round had turned us,
  Having erased one mark from off my face;
And those who have in justice their desire
  Had said to us, "Beati," in their voices,
  With "sitio," and without more ended it.
And I, more light than through the other passes,
  Went onward so, that without any labour
  I followed upward the swift-footed spirits;
When thus Virgilius began: "The love
  Kindled by virtue aye another kindles,
  Provided outwardly its flame appear.
Hence from the hour that Juvenal descended
  Among us into the infernal Limbo,
  Who made apparent to me thy affection,
My kindliness towards thee was as great
  As ever bound one to an unseen person,
  So that these stairs will now seem short to me.
But tell me, and forgive me as a friend,
  If too great confidence let loose the rein,
  And as a friend now hold discourse with me;
How was it possible within thy breast
  For avarice to find place, 'mid so much wisdom
  As thou wast filled with by thy diligence?"
These words excited Statius at first
  Somewhat to laughter; afterward he answered:
  "Each word of thine is love's dear sign to me.
Verily oftentimes do things appear
  Which give fallacious matter to our doubts,
  Instead of the true causes which are hidden!
Thy question shows me thy belief to be
  That I was niggard in the other life,
  It may be from the circle where I was;
Therefore know thou, that avarice was removed
  Too far from me; and this extravagance
  Thousands of lunar periods have punished.
And were it not that I my thoughts uplifted,
  When I the passage heard where thou exclaimest,
  As if indignant, unto human nature,
'To what impellest thou not, O cursed hunger
  Of gold, the appetite of mortal men?'
  Revolving I should feel the dismal joustings.
Then I perceived the hands could spread too wide
  Their wings in spending, and repented me
  As well of that as of my other sins;
How many with shorn hair shall rise again
  Because of ignorance, which from this sin
  Cuts off repentance living and in death!
And know that the transgression which rebuts
  By direct opposition any sin
  Together with it here its verdure dries.
Therefore if I have been among that folk
  Which mourns its avarice, to purify me,
  For its opposite has this befallen me."
"Now when thou sangest the relentless weapons
  Of the twofold affliction of Jocasta,"
  The singer of the Songs Bucolic said,
"From that which Clio there with thee preludes,
  It does not seem that yet had made thee faithful
  That faith without which no good works suffice.
If this be so, what candles or what sun
  Scattered thy darkness so that thou didst trim
  Thy sails behind the Fisherman thereafter?"
And he to him: "Thou first directedst me
  Towards Parnassus, in its grots to drink,
  And first concerning God didst me enlighten.
Thou didst as he who walketh in the night,
  Who bears his light behind, which helps him not,
  But wary makes the persons after him,
When thou didst say: 'The age renews itself,
  Justice returns, and man's primeval time,
  And a new progeny descends from heaven.'
Through thee I Poet was, through thee a Christian;
  But that thou better see what I design,
  To colour it will I extend my hand.
Already was the world in every part
  Pregnant with the true creed, disseminated
  By messengers of the eternal kingdom;
And thy assertion, spoken of above,
  With the new preachers was in unison;
  Whence I to visit them the custom took.
Then they became so holy in my sight,
  That, when Domitian persecuted them,
  Not without tears of mine were their laments;
And all the while that I on earth remained,
  Them I befriended, and their upright customs
  Made me disparage all the other sects.
And ere I led the Greeks unto the rivers
  Of Thebes, in poetry, I was baptized,
  But out of fear was covertly a Christian,
For a long time professing paganism;
  And this lukewarmness caused me the fourth circle
  To circuit round more than four centuries.
Thou, therefore, who hast raised the covering
  That hid from me whatever good I speak of,
  While in ascending we have time to spare,
Tell me, in what place is our friend Terentius,
  Caecilius, Plautus, Varro, if thou knowest;
  Tell me if they are damned, and in what alley."
"These, Persius and myself, and others many,"
  Replied my Leader, "with that Grecian are
  Whom more than all the rest the Muses suckled,
In the first circle of the prison blind;
  Ofttimes we of the mountain hold discourse
  Which has our nurses ever with itself.
Euripides is with us, Antiphon,
  Simonides, Agatho, and many other
  Greeks who of old their brows with laurel decked.
There some of thine own people may be seen,
  Antigone, Deiphile and Argia,
  And there Ismene mournful as of old.
There she is seen who pointed out Langia;
  There is Tiresias' daughter, and there Thetis,
  And there Deidamia with her sisters."
Silent already were the poets both,
  Attent once more in looking round about,
  From the ascent and from the walls released;
And four handmaidens of the day already
  Were left behind, and at the pole the fifth
  Was pointing upward still its burning horn,
What time my Guide: "I think that tow'rds the edge
  Our dexter shoulders it behoves us turn,
  Circling the mount as we are wont to do."
Thus in that region custom was our ensign;
  And we resumed our way with less suspicion
  For the assenting of that worthy soul
They in advance went on, and I alone
  Behind them, and I listened to their speech,
  Which gave me lessons in the art of song.
But soon their sweet discourses interrupted
  A tree which midway in the road we found,
  With apples sweet and grateful to the smell.
And even as a fir-tree tapers upward
  From bough to bough, so downwardly did that;
  I think in order that no one might climb it.
On that side where our pathway was enclosed
  Fell from the lofty rock a limpid water,
  And spread itself abroad upon the leaves.
The Poets twain unto the tree drew near,
  And from among the foliage a voice
  Cried: "Of this food ye shall have scarcity."
Then said: "More thoughtful Mary was of making
  The marriage feast complete and honourable,
  Than of her mouth which now for you responds;
And for their drink the ancient Roman women
  With water were content; and Daniel
  Disparaged food, and understanding won.
The primal age was beautiful as gold;
  Acorns it made with hunger savorous,
  And nectar every rivulet with thirst.
Honey and locusts were the aliments
  That fed the Baptist in the wilderness;
  Whence he is glorious, and so magnified
As by the Evangel is revealed to you."
Purgatorio: Canto XXIII
The while among the verdant leaves mine eyes
  I riveted, as he is wont to do
  Who wastes his life pursuing little birds,
My more than Father said unto me: "Son,
  Come now; because the time that is ordained us
  More usefully should be apportioned out."
I turned my face and no less soon my steps
  Unto the Sages, who were speaking so
  They made the going of no cost to me;
And lo! were heard a song and a lament,
  "Labia mea, Domine," in fashion
  Such that delight and dolence it brought forth.
"O my sweet Father, what is this I hear?"
  Began I; and he answered: "Shades that go
  Perhaps the knot unloosing of their debt."
In the same way that thoughtful pilgrims do,
  Who, unknown people on the road o'ertaking,
  Turn themselves round to them, and do not stop,
Even thus, behind us with a swifter motion
  Coming and passing onward, gazed upon us
  A crowd of spirits silent and devout.
Each in his eyes was dark and cavernous,
  Pallid in face, and so emaciate
  That from the bones the skin did shape itself.
I do not think that so to merest rind
  Could Erisichthon have been withered up
  By famine, when most fear he had of it.
Thinking within myself I said: "Behold,
  This is the folk who lost Jerusalem,
  When Mary made a prey of her own son."
Their sockets were like rings without the gems;
  Whoever in the face of men reads 'omo'
  Might well in these have recognised the 'm.'
Who would believe the odour of an apple,
  Begetting longing, could consume them so,
  And that of water, without knowing how?
I still was wondering what so famished them,
  For the occasion not yet manifest
  Of their emaciation and sad squalor;
And lo! from out the hollow of his head
  His eyes a shade turned on me, and looked keenly;
  Then cried aloud: "What grace to me is this?"
Never should I have known him by his look;
  But in his voice was evident to me
  That which his aspect had suppressed within it.
This spark within me wholly re-enkindled
  My recognition of his altered face,
  And I recalled the features of Forese.
"Ah, do not look at this dry leprosy,"
  Entreated he, "which doth my skin discolour,
  Nor at default of flesh that I may have;
But tell me truth of thee, and who are those
  Two souls, that yonder make for thee an escort;
  Do not delay in speaking unto me."
"That face of thine, which dead I once bewept,
  Gives me for weeping now no lesser grief,"
  I answered him, "beholding it so changed!
But tell me, for God's sake, what thus denudes you?
  Make me not speak while I am marvelling,
  For ill speaks he who's full of other longings."
And he to me: "From the eternal council
  Falls power into the water and the tree
  Behind us left, whereby I grow so thin.
All of this people who lamenting sing,
  For following beyond measure appetite
  In hunger and thirst are here re-sanctified.
Desire to eat and drink enkindles in us
  The scent that issues from the apple-tree,
  And from the spray that sprinkles o'er the verdure;
And not a single time alone, this ground
  Encompassing, is refreshed our pain,--
  I say our pain, and ought to say our solace,--
For the same wish doth lead us to the tree
  Which led the Christ rejoicing to say 'Eli,'
  When with his veins he liberated us."
And I to him: "Forese, from that day
  When for a better life thou changedst worlds,
  Up to this time five years have not rolled round.
If sooner were the power exhausted in thee
  Of sinning more, than thee the hour surprised
  Of that good sorrow which to God reweds us,
How hast thou come up hitherward already?
  I thought to find thee down there underneath,
  Where time for time doth restitution make."
And he to me: "Thus speedily has led me
  To drink of the sweet wormwood of these torments,
  My Nella with her overflowing tears;
She with her prayers devout and with her sighs
  Has drawn me from the coast where one where one awaits,
  And from the other circles set me free.
So much more dear and pleasing is to God
  My little widow, whom so much I loved,
  As in good works she is the more alone;
For the Barbagia of Sardinia
  By far more modest in its women is
  Than the Barbagia I have left her in.
O brother sweet, what wilt thou have me say?
  A future time is in my sight already,
  To which this hour will not be very old,
When from the pulpit shall be interdicted
  To the unblushing womankind of Florence
  To go about displaying breast and paps.
What savages were e'er, what Saracens,
  Who stood in need, to make them covered go,
  Of spiritual or other discipline?
But if the shameless women were assured
  Of what swift Heaven prepares for them, already
  Wide open would they have their mouths to howl;
For if my foresight here deceive me not,
  They shall be sad ere he has bearded cheeks
  Who now is hushed to sleep with lullaby.
O brother, now no longer hide thee from me;
  See that not only I, but all these people
  Are gazing there, where thou dost veil the sun."
Whence I to him: "If thou bring back to mind
  What thou with me hast been and I with thee,
  The present memory will be grievous still.
Out of that life he turned me back who goes
  In front of me, two days agone when round
  The sister of him yonder showed herself,"
And to the sun I pointed.  "Through the deep
  Night of the truly dead has this one led me,
  With this true flesh, that follows after him.
Thence his encouragements have led me up,
  Ascending and still circling round the mount
  That you doth straighten, whom the world made crooked.
He says that he will bear me company,
  Till I shall be where Beatrice will be;
  There it behoves me to remain without him.
This is Virgilius, who thus says to me,"
  And him I pointed at; "the other is
  That shade for whom just now shook every slope
Your realm, that from itself discharges him."
Purgatorio: Canto XXIV
Nor speech the going, nor the going that
  Slackened; but talking we went bravely on,
  Even as a vessel urged by a good wind.
And shadows, that appeared things doubly dead,
  From out the sepulchres of their eyes betrayed
  Wonder at me, aware that I was living.
And I, continuing my colloquy,
  Said: "Peradventure he goes up more slowly
  Than he would do, for other people's sake.
But tell me, if thou knowest, where is Piccarda;
  Tell me if any one of note I see
  Among this folk that gazes at me so."
"My sister, who, 'twixt beautiful and good,
  I know not which was more, triumphs rejoicing
  Already in her crown on high Olympus."
So said he first, and then: "'Tis not forbidden
  To name each other here, so milked away
  Is our resemblance by our dieting.
This," pointing with his finger, "is Buonagiunta,
  Buonagiunta, of Lucca; and that face
  Beyond him there, more peaked than the others,
Has held the holy Church within his arms;
  From Tours was he, and purges by his fasting
  Bolsena's eels and the Vernaccia wine."
He named me many others one by one;
  And all contented seemed at being named,
  So that for this I saw not one dark look.
I saw for hunger bite the empty air
  Ubaldin dalla Pila, and Boniface,
  Who with his crook had pastured many people.
I saw Messer Marchese, who had leisure
  Once at Forli for drinking with less dryness,
  And he was one who ne'er felt satisfied.
But as he does who scans, and then doth prize
  One more than others, did I him of Lucca,
  Who seemed to take most cognizance of me.
He murmured, and I know not what Gentucca
  From that place heard I, where he felt the wound
  Of justice, that doth macerate them so.
"O soul," I said, "that seemest so desirous
  To speak with me, do so that I may hear thee,
  And with thy speech appease thyself and me."
"A maid is born, and wears not yet the veil,"
  Began he, "who to thee shall pleasant make
  My city, howsoever men may blame it.
Thou shalt go on thy way with this prevision;
  If by my murmuring thou hast been deceived,
  True things hereafter will declare it to thee.
But say if him I here behold, who forth
  Evoked the new-invented rhymes, beginning,
  'Ladies, that have intelligence of love?'"
And I to him: "One am I, who, whenever
  Love doth inspire me, note, and in that measure
  Which he within me dictates, singing go."
"O brother, now I see," he said, "the knot
  Which me, the Notary, and Guittone held
  Short of the sweet new style that now I hear.
I do perceive full clearly how your pens
  Go closely following after him who dictates,
  Which with our own forsooth came not to pass;
And he who sets himself to go beyond,
  No difference sees from one style to another;"
  And as if satisfied, he held his peace.
Even as the birds, that winter tow'rds the Nile,
  Sometimes into a phalanx form themselves,
  Then fly in greater haste, and go in file;
In such wise all the people who were there,
  Turning their faces, hurried on their steps,
  Both by their leanness and their wishes light.
And as a man, who weary is with trotting,
  Lets his companions onward go, and walks,
  Until he vents the panting of his chest;
So did Forese let the holy flock
  Pass by, and came with me behind it, saying,
  "When will it be that I again shall see thee?"
"How long," I answered, "I may live, I know not;
  Yet my return will not so speedy be,
  But I shall sooner in desire arrive;
Because the place where I was set to live
  From day to day of good is more depleted,
  And unto dismal ruin seems ordained."
"Now go," he said, "for him most guilty of it
  At a beast's tail behold I dragged along
  Towards the valley where is no repentance.
Faster at every step the beast is going,
  Increasing evermore until it smites him,
  And leaves the body vilely mutilated.
Not long those wheels shall turn," and he uplifted
  His eyes to heaven, "ere shall be clear to thee
  That which my speech no farther can declare.
Now stay behind; because the time so precious
  Is in this kingdom, that I lose too much
  By coming onward thus abreast with thee."
As sometimes issues forth upon a gallop
  A cavalier from out a troop that ride,
  And seeks the honour of the first encounter,
So he with greater strides departed from us;
  And on the road remained I with those two,
  Who were such mighty marshals of the world.
And when before us he had gone so far
  Mine eyes became to him such pursuivants
  As was my understanding to his words,
Appeared to me with laden and living boughs
  Another apple-tree, and not far distant,
  From having but just then turned thitherward.
People I saw beneath it lift their hands,
  And cry I know not what towards the leaves,
  Like little children eager and deluded,
Who pray, and he they pray to doth not answer,
  But, to make very keen their appetite,
  Holds their desire aloft, and hides it not.
Then they departed as if undeceived;
  And now we came unto the mighty tree
  Which prayers and tears so manifold refuses.
"Pass farther onward without drawing near;
  The tree of which Eve ate is higher up,
  And out of that one has this tree been raised."
Thus said I know not who among the branches;
  Whereat Virgilius, Statius, and myself
  Went crowding forward on the side that rises.
"Be mindful," said he, "of the accursed ones
  Formed of the cloud-rack, who inebriate
  Combated Theseus with their double breasts;
And of the Jews who showed them soft in drinking,
  Whence Gideon would not have them for companions
  When he tow'rds Midian the hills descended."
Thus, closely pressed to one of the two borders,
  On passed we, hearing sins of gluttony,
  Followed forsooth by miserable gains;
Then set at large upon the lonely road,
  A thousand steps and more we onward went,
  In contemplation, each without a word.
"What go ye thinking thus, ye three alone?"
  Said suddenly a voice, whereat I started
  As terrified and timid beasts are wont.
I raised my head to see who this might be,
  And never in a furnace was there seen
  Metals or glass so lucent and so red
As one I saw who said: "If it may please you
  To mount aloft, here it behoves you turn;
  This way goes he who goeth after peace."
His aspect had bereft me of my sight,
  So that I turned me back unto my Teachers,
  Like one who goeth as his hearing guides him.
And as, the harbinger of early dawn,
  The air of May doth move and breathe out fragrance,
  Impregnate all with herbage and with flowers,
So did I feel a breeze strike in the midst
  My front, and felt the moving of the plumes
  That breathed around an odour of ambrosia;
And heard it said: "Blessed are they whom grace
  So much illumines, that the love of taste
  Excites not in their breasts too great desire,
Hungering at all times so far as is just."
Purgatorio: Canto XXV
Now was it the ascent no hindrance brooked,
  Because the sun had his meridian circle
  To Taurus left, and night to Scorpio;
Wherefore as doth a man who tarries not,
  But goes his way, whate'er to him appear,
  If of necessity the sting transfix him,
In this wise did we enter through the gap,
  Taking the stairway, one before the other,
  Which by its narrowness divides the climbers.
And as the little stork that lifts its wing
  With a desire to fly, and does not venture
  To leave the nest, and lets it downward droop,
Even such was I, with the desire of asking
  Kindled and quenched, unto the motion coming
  He makes who doth address himself to speak.
Not for our pace, though rapid it might be,
  My father sweet forbore, but said: "Let fly
  The bow of speech thou to the barb hast drawn."
With confidence I opened then my mouth,
  And I began: "How can one meagre grow
  There where the need of nutriment applies not?"
"If thou wouldst call to mind how Meleager
  Was wasted by the wasting of a brand,
  This would not," said he, "be to thee so sour;
And wouldst thou think how at each tremulous motion
  Trembles within a mirror your own image;
  That which seems hard would mellow seem to thee.
But that thou mayst content thee in thy wish
  Lo Statius here; and him I call and pray
  He now will be the healer of thy wounds."
"If I unfold to him the eternal vengeance,"
  Responded Statius, "where thou present art,
  Be my excuse that I can naught deny thee."
Then he began: "Son, if these words of mine
  Thy mind doth contemplate and doth receive,
  They'll be thy light unto the How thou sayest.
The perfect blood, which never is drunk up
  Into the thirsty veins, and which remaineth
  Like food that from the table thou removest,
Takes in the heart for all the human members
  Virtue informative, as being that
  Which to be changed to them goes through the veins
Again digest, descends it where 'tis better
  Silent to be than say; and then drops thence
  Upon another's blood in natural vase.
There one together with the other mingles,
  One to be passive meant, the other active
  By reason of the perfect place it springs from;
And being conjoined, begins to operate,
  Coagulating first, then vivifying
  What for its matter it had made consistent.
The active virtue, being made a soul
  As of a plant, (in so far different,
  This on the way is, that arrived already,)
Then works so much, that now it moves and feels
  Like a sea-fungus, and then undertakes
  To organize the powers whose seed it is.
Now, Son, dilates and now distends itself
  The virtue from the generator's heart,
  Where nature is intent on all the members.
But how from animal it man becomes
  Thou dost not see as yet; this is a point
  Which made a wiser man than thou once err
So far, that in his doctrine separate
  He made the soul from possible intellect,
  For he no organ saw by this assumed.
Open thy breast unto the truth that's coming,
  And know that, just as soon as in the foetus
  The articulation of the brain is perfect,
The primal Motor turns to it well pleased
  At so great art of nature, and inspires
  A spirit new with virtue all replete,
Which what it finds there active doth attract
  Into its substance, and becomes one soul,
  Which lives, and feels, and on itself revolves.
And that thou less may wonder at my word,
  Behold the sun's heat, which becometh wine,
  Joined to the juice that from the vine distils.
Whenever Lachesis has no more thread,
  It separates from the flesh, and virtually
  Bears with itself the human and divine;
The other faculties are voiceless all;
  The memory, the intelligence, and the will
  In action far more vigorous than before.
Without a pause it falleth of itself
  In marvellous way on one shore or the other;
  There of its roads it first is cognizant.
Soon as the place there circumscribeth it,
  The virtue informative rays round about,
  As, and as much as, in the living members.
And even as the air, when full of rain,
  By alien rays that are therein reflected,
  With divers colours shows itself adorned,
So there the neighbouring air doth shape itself
  Into that form which doth impress upon it
  Virtually the soul that has stood still.
And then in manner of the little flame,
  Which followeth the fire where'er it shifts,
  After the spirit followeth its new form.
Since afterwards it takes from this its semblance,
  It is called shade; and thence it organizes
  Thereafter every sense, even to the sight.
Thence is it that we speak, and thence we laugh;
  Thence is it that we form the tears and sighs,
  That on the mountain thou mayhap hast heard.
According as impress us our desires
  And other affections, so the shade is shaped,
  And this is cause of what thou wonderest at."
And now unto the last of all the circles
  Had we arrived, and to the right hand turned,
  And were attentive to another care.
There the embankment shoots forth flames of fire,
  And upward doth the cornice breathe a blast
  That drives them back, and from itself sequesters.
Hence we must needs go on the open side,
  And one by one; and I did fear the fire
  On this side, and on that the falling down.
My Leader said: "Along this place one ought
  To keep upon the eyes a tightened rein,
  Seeing that one so easily might err."
"Summae Deus clementiae," in the bosom
  Of the great burning chanted then I heard,
  Which made me no less eager to turn round;
And spirits saw I walking through the flame;
  Wherefore I looked, to my own steps and theirs
  Apportioning my sight from time to time.
After the close which to that hymn is made,
  Aloud they shouted, "Virum non cognosco;"
  Then recommenced the hymn with voices low.
This also ended, cried they: "To the wood
  Diana ran, and drove forth Helice
  Therefrom, who had of Venus felt the poison."
Then to their song returned they; then the wives
  They shouted, and the husbands who were chaste.
  As virtue and the marriage vow imposes.
And I believe that them this mode suffices,
  For all the time the fire is burning them;
  With such care is it needful, and such food,
That the last wound of all should be closed up.
Purgatorio: Canto XXVI
While on the brink thus one before the other
  We went upon our way, oft the good Master
  Said: "Take thou heed! suffice it that I warn thee."
On the right shoulder smote me now the sun,
  That, raying out, already the whole west
  Changed from its azure aspect into white.
And with my shadow did I make the flame
  Appear more red; and even to such a sign
  Shades saw I many, as they went, give heed.
This was the cause that gave them a beginning
  To speak of me; and to themselves began they
  To say: "That seems not a factitious body!"
Then towards me, as far as they could come,
  Came certain of them, always with regard
  Not to step forth where they would not be burned.
"O thou who goest, not from being slower
  But reverent perhaps, behind the others,
  Answer me, who in thirst and fire am burning.
Nor to me only is thine answer needful;
  For all of these have greater thirst for it
  Than for cold water Ethiop or Indian.
Tell us how is it that thou makest thyself
  A wall unto the sun, as if thou hadst not
  Entered as yet into the net of death."
Thus one of them addressed me, and I straight
  Should have revealed myself, were I not bent
  On other novelty that then appeared.
For through the middle of the burning road
  There came a people face to face with these,
  Which held me in suspense with gazing at them.
There see I hastening upon either side
  Each of the shades, and kissing one another
  Without a pause, content with brief salute.
Thus in the middle of their brown battalions
  Muzzle to muzzle one ant meets another
  Perchance to spy their journey or their fortune.
No sooner is the friendly greeting ended,
  Or ever the first footstep passes onward,
  Each one endeavours to outcry the other;
The new-come people: "Sodom and Gomorrah!"
  The rest: "Into the cow Pasiphae enters,
  So that the bull unto her lust may run!"
Then as the cranes, that to Riphaean mountains
  Might fly in part, and part towards the sands,
  These of the frost, those of the sun avoidant,
One folk is going, and the other coming,
  And weeping they return to their first songs,
  And to the cry that most befitteth them;
And close to me approached, even as before,
  The very same who had entreated me,
  Attent to listen in their countenance.
I, who their inclination twice had seen,
  Began: "O souls secure in the possession,
  Whene'er it may be, of a state of peace,
Neither unripe nor ripened have remained
  My members upon earth, but here are with me
  With their own blood and their articulations.
I go up here to be no longer blind;
  A Lady is above, who wins this grace,
  Whereby the mortal through your world I bring.
But as your greatest longing satisfied
  May soon become, so that the Heaven may house you
  Which full of love is, and most amply spreads,
Tell me, that I again in books may write it,
  Who are you, and what is that multitude
  Which goes upon its way behind your backs?"
Not otherwise with wonder is bewildered
  The mountaineer, and staring round is dumb,
  When rough and rustic to the town he goes,
Than every shade became in its appearance;
  But when they of their stupor were disburdened,
  Which in high hearts is quickly quieted,
"Blessed be thou, who of our border-lands,"
  He recommenced who first had questioned us,
  "Experience freightest for a better life.
The folk that comes not with us have offended
  In that for which once Caesar, triumphing,
  Heard himself called in contumely, 'Queen.'
Therefore they separate, exclaiming, 'Sodom!'
  Themselves reproving, even as thou hast heard,
  And add unto their burning by their shame.
Our own transgression was hermaphrodite;
  But because we observed not human law,
  Following like unto beasts our appetite,
In our opprobrium by us is read,
  When we part company, the name of her
  Who bestialized herself in bestial wood.
Now knowest thou our acts, and what our crime was;
  Wouldst thou perchance by name know who we are,
  There is not time to tell, nor could I do it.
Thy wish to know me shall in sooth be granted;
  I'm Guido Guinicelli, and now purge me,
  Having repented ere the hour extreme."
The same that in the sadness of Lycurgus
  Two sons became, their mother re-beholding,
  Such I became, but rise not to such height,
The moment I heard name himself the father
  Of me and of my betters, who had ever
  Practised the sweet and gracious rhymes of love;
And without speech and hearing thoughtfully
  For a long time I went, beholding him,
  Nor for the fire did I approach him nearer.
When I was fed with looking, utterly
  Myself I offered ready for his service,
  With affirmation that compels belief.
And he to me: "Thou leavest footprints such
  In me, from what I hear, and so distinct,
  Lethe cannot efface them, nor make dim.
But if thy words just now the truth have sworn,
  Tell me what is the cause why thou displayest
  In word and look that dear thou holdest me?"
And I to him: "Those dulcet lays of yours
  Which, long as shall endure our modern fashion,
  Shall make for ever dear their very ink!"
"O brother," said he, "he whom I point out,"
  And here he pointed at a spirit in front,
  "Was of the mother tongue a better smith.
Verses of love and proses of romance,
  He mastered all; and let the idiots talk,
  Who think the Lemosin surpasses him.
To clamour more than truth they turn their faces,
  And in this way establish their opinion,
  Ere art or reason has by them been heard.
Thus many ancients with Guittone did,
  From cry to cry still giving him applause,
  Until the truth has conquered with most persons.
Now, if thou hast such ample privilege
  'Tis granted thee to go unto the cloister
  Wherein is Christ the abbot of the college,
To him repeat for me a Paternoster,
  So far as needful to us of this world,
  Where power of sinning is no longer ours."
Then, to give place perchance to one behind,
  Whom he had near, he vanished in the fire
  As fish in water going to the bottom.
I moved a little tow'rds him pointed out,
  And said that to his name my own desire
  An honourable place was making ready.
He of his own free will began to say:
  'Tan m' abellis vostre cortes deman,
  Que jeu nom' puesc ni vueill a vos cobrire;
Jeu sui Arnaut, que plor e vai chantan;
  Consiros vei la passada folor,
  E vei jauzen lo jorn qu' esper denan.
Ara vus prec per aquella valor,
  Que vus condus al som de la scalina,
  Sovenga vus a temprar ma dolor.'*
Then hid him in the fire that purifies them.
* So pleases me your courteous demand,
  I cannot and I will not hide me from you.
I am Arnaut, who weep and singing go;
  Contrite I see the folly of the past,
  And joyous see the hoped-for day before me.
Therefore do I implore you, by that power
  Which guides you to the summit of the stairs,
  Be mindful to assuage my suffering!
Purgatorio: Canto XXVII
As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays,
  In regions where his Maker shed his blood,
  (The Ebro falling under lofty Libra,
And waters in the Ganges burnt with noon,)
  So stood the Sun; hence was the day departing,
  When the glad Angel of God appeared to us.
Outside the flame he stood upon the verge,
  And chanted forth, "Beati mundo corde,"
  In voice by far more living than our own.
Then: "No one farther goes, souls sanctified,
  If first the fire bite not; within it enter,
  And be not deaf unto the song beyond."
When we were close beside him thus he said;
  Wherefore e'en such became I, when I heard him,
  As he is who is put into the grave.
Upon my clasped hands I straightened me,
  Scanning the fire, and vividly recalling
  The human bodies I had once seen burned.
Towards me turned themselves my good Conductors,
  And unto me Virgilius said: "My son,
  Here may indeed be torment, but not death.
Remember thee, remember! and if I
  On Geryon have safely guided thee,
  What shall I do now I am nearer God?
Believe for certain, shouldst thou stand a full
  Millennium in the bosom of this flame,
  It could not make thee bald a single hair.
And if perchance thou think that I deceive thee,
  Draw near to it, and put it to the proof
  With thine own hands upon thy garment's hem.
Now lay aside, now lay aside all fear,
  Turn hitherward, and onward come securely;"
  And I still motionless, and 'gainst my conscience!
Seeing me stand still motionless and stubborn,
  Somewhat disturbed he said: "Now look thou, Son,
  'Twixt Beatrice and thee there is this wall."
As at the name of Thisbe oped his lids
  The dying Pyramus, and gazed upon her,
  What time the mulberry became vermilion,
Even thus, my obduracy being softened,
  I turned to my wise Guide, hearing the name
  That in my memory evermore is welling.
Whereat he wagged his head, and said: "How now?
  Shall we stay on this side?" then smiled as one
  Does at a child who's vanquished by an apple.
Then into the fire in front of me he entered,
  Beseeching Statius to come after me,
  Who a long way before divided us.
When I was in it, into molten glass
  I would have cast me to refresh myself,
  So without measure was the burning there!
And my sweet Father, to encourage me,
  Discoursing still of Beatrice went on,
  Saying: "Her eyes I seem to see already!"
A voice, that on the other side was singing,
  Directed us, and we, attent alone
  On that, came forth where the ascent began.
"Venite, benedicti Patris mei,"
  Sounded within a splendour, which was there
  Such it o'ercame me, and I could not look.
"The sun departs," it added, "and night cometh;
  Tarry ye not, but onward urge your steps,
  So long as yet the west becomes not dark."
Straight forward through the rock the path ascended
  In such a way that I cut off the rays
  Before me of the sun, that now was low.
And of few stairs we yet had made assay,
  Ere by the vanished shadow the sun's setting
  Behind us we perceived, I and my Sages.
And ere in all its parts immeasurable
  The horizon of one aspect had become,
  And Night her boundless dispensation held,
Each of us of a stair had made his bed;
  Because the nature of the mount took from us
  The power of climbing, more than the delight.
Even as in ruminating passive grow
  The goats, who have been swift and venturesome
  Upon the mountain-tops ere they were fed,
Hushed in the shadow, while the sun is hot,
  Watched by the herdsman, who upon his staff
  Is leaning, and in leaning tendeth them;
And as the shepherd, lodging out of doors,
  Passes the night beside his quiet flock,
  Watching that no wild beast may scatter it,
Such at that hour were we, all three of us,
  I like the goat, and like the herdsmen they,
  Begirt on this side and on that by rocks.
Little could there be seen of things without;
  But through that little I beheld the stars
  More luminous and larger than their wont.
Thus ruminating, and beholding these,
  Sleep seized upon me,--sleep, that oftentimes
  Before a deed is done has tidings of it.
It was the hour, I think, when from the East
  First on the mountain Citherea beamed,
  Who with the fire of love seems always burning;
Youthful and beautiful in dreams methought
  I saw a lady walking in a meadow,
  Gathering flowers; and singing she was saying:
"Know whosoever may my name demand
  That I am Leah, and go moving round
  My beauteous hands to make myself a garland.
To please me at the mirror, here I deck me,
  But never does my sister Rachel leave
  Her looking-glass, and sitteth all day long.
To see her beauteous eyes as eager is she,
  As I am to adorn me with my hands;
  Her, seeing, and me, doing satisfies."
And now before the antelucan splendours
  That unto pilgrims the more grateful rise,
  As, home-returning, less remote they lodge,
The darkness fled away on every side,
  And slumber with it; whereupon I rose,
  Seeing already the great Masters risen.
"That apple sweet, which through so many branches
  The care of mortals goeth in pursuit of,
  To-day shall put in peace thy hungerings."
Speaking to me, Virgilius of such words
  As these made use; and never were there guerdons
  That could in pleasantness compare with these.
Such longing upon longing came upon me
  To be above, that at each step thereafter
  For flight I felt in me the pinions growing.
When underneath us was the stairway all
  Run o'er, and we were on the highest step,
  Virgilius fastened upon me his eyes,
And said: "The temporal fire and the eternal,
  Son, thou hast seen, and to a place art come
  Where of myself no farther I discern.
By intellect and art I here have brought thee;
  Take thine own pleasure for thy guide henceforth;
  Beyond the steep ways and the narrow art thou.
Behold the sun, that shines upon thy forehead;
  Behold the grass, the flowerets, and the shrubs
  Which of itself alone this land produces.
Until rejoicing come the beauteous eyes
  Which weeping caused me to come unto thee,
  Thou canst sit down, and thou canst walk among them.
Expect no more or word or sign from me;
  Free and upright and sound is thy free-will,
  And error were it not to do its bidding;
Thee o'er thyself I therefore crown and mitre!"
Purgatorio: Canto XXVIII
Eager already to search in and round
  The heavenly forest, dense and living-green,
  Which tempered to the eyes the new-born day,
Withouten more delay I left the bank,
  Taking the level country slowly, slowly
  Over the soil that everywhere breathes fragrance.
A softly-breathing air, that no mutation
  Had in itself, upon the forehead smote me
  No heavier blow than of a gentle wind,
Whereat the branches, lightly tremulous,
  Did all of them bow downward toward that side
  Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain;
Yet not from their upright direction swayed,
  So that the little birds upon their tops
  Should leave the practice of each art of theirs;
But with full ravishment the hours of prime,
  Singing, received they in the midst of leaves,
  That ever bore a burden to their rhymes,
Such as from branch to branch goes gathering on
  Through the pine forest on the shore of Chiassi,
  When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco.
Already my slow steps had carried me
  Into the ancient wood so far, that I
  Could not perceive where I had entered it.
And lo! my further course a stream cut off,
  Which tow'rd the left hand with its little waves
  Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang.
All waters that on earth most limpid are
  Would seem to have within themselves some mixture
  Compared with that which nothing doth conceal,
Although it moves on with a brown, brown current
  Under the shade perpetual, that never
  Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon.
With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passed
  Beyond the rivulet, to look upon
  The great variety of the fresh may.
And there appeared to me (even as appears
  Suddenly something that doth turn aside
  Through very wonder every other thought)
A lady all alone, who went along
  Singing and culling floweret after floweret,
  With which her pathway was all painted over.
"Ah, beauteous lady, who in rays of love
  Dost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks,
  Which the heart's witnesses are wont to be,
May the desire come unto thee to draw
  Near to this river's bank," I said to her,
  "So much that I might hear what thou art singing.
Thou makest me remember where and what
  Proserpina that moment was when lost
  Her mother her, and she herself the Spring."
As turns herself, with feet together pressed
  And to the ground, a lady who is dancing,
  And hardly puts one foot before the other,
On the vermilion and the yellow flowerets
  She turned towards me, not in other wise
  Than maiden who her modest eyes casts down;
And my entreaties made to be content,
  So near approaching, that the dulcet sound
  Came unto me together with its meaning
As soon as she was where the grasses are.
  Bathed by the waters of the beauteous river,
  To lift her eyes she granted me the boon.
I do not think there shone so great a light
  Under the lids of Venus, when transfixed
  By her own son, beyond his usual custom!
Erect upon the other bank she smiled,
  Bearing full many colours in her hands,
  Which that high land produces without seed.
Apart three paces did the river make us;
  But Hellespont, where Xerxes passed across,
  (A curb still to all human arrogance,)
More hatred from Leander did not suffer
  For rolling between Sestos and Abydos,
  Than that from me, because it oped not then.
"Ye are new-comers; and because I smile,"
  Began she, "peradventure, in this place
  Elect to human nature for its nest,
Some apprehension keeps you marvelling;
  But the psalm 'Delectasti' giveth light
  Which has the power to uncloud your intellect.
And thou who foremost art, and didst entreat me,
  Speak, if thou wouldst hear more; for I came ready
  To all thy questionings, as far as needful."
"The water," said I, "and the forest's sound,
  Are combating within me my new faith
  In something which I heard opposed to this."
Whence she: "I will relate how from its cause
  Proceedeth that which maketh thee to wonder,
  And purge away the cloud that smites upon thee.
The Good Supreme, sole in itself delighting,
  Created man good, and this goodly place
  Gave him as hansel of eternal peace.
By his default short while he sojourned here;
  By his default to weeping and to toil
  He changed his innocent laughter and sweet play.
That the disturbance which below is made
  By exhalations of the land and water,
  (Which far as may be follow after heat,)
Might not upon mankind wage any war,
  This mount ascended tow'rds the heaven so high,
  And is exempt, from there where it is locked.
Now since the universal atmosphere
  Turns in a circuit with the primal motion
  Unless the circle is broken on some side,
Upon this height, that all is disengaged
  In living ether, doth this motion strike
  And make the forest sound, for it is dense;
And so much power the stricken plant possesses
  That with its virtue it impregns the air,
  And this, revolving, scatters it around;
And yonder earth, according as 'tis worthy
  In self or in its clime, conceives and bears
  Of divers qualities the divers trees;
It should not seem a marvel then on earth,
  This being heard, whenever any plant
  Without seed manifest there taketh root.
And thou must know, this holy table-land
  In which thou art is full of every seed,
  And fruit has in it never gathered there.
The water which thou seest springs not from vein
  Restored by vapour that the cold condenses,
  Like to a stream that gains or loses breath;
But issues from a fountain safe and certain,
  Which by the will of God as much regains
  As it discharges, open on two sides.
Upon this side with virtue it descends,
  Which takes away all memory of sin;
  On that, of every good deed done restores it.
Here Lethe, as upon the other side
  Eunoe, it is called; and worketh not
  If first on either side it be not tasted.
This every other savour doth transcend;
  And notwithstanding slaked so far may be
  Thy thirst, that I reveal to thee no more,
I'll give thee a corollary still in grace,
  Nor think my speech will be to thee less dear
  If it spread out beyond my promise to thee.
Those who in ancient times have feigned in song
  The Age of Gold and its felicity,
  Dreamed of this place perhaps upon Parnassus.
Here was the human race in innocence;
  Here evermore was Spring, and every fruit;
  This is the nectar of which each one speaks."
Then backward did I turn me wholly round
  Unto my Poets, and saw that with a smile
  They had been listening to these closing words;
Then to the beautiful lady turned mine eyes.
Purgatorio: Canto XXIX
Singing like unto an enamoured lady
  She, with the ending of her words, continued:
  "Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata."
And even as Nymphs, that wandered all alone
  Among the sylvan shadows, sedulous
  One to avoid and one to see the sun,
She then against the stream moved onward, going
  Along the bank, and I abreast of her,
  Her little steps with little steps attending.
Between her steps and mine were not a hundred,
  When equally the margins gave a turn,
  In such a way, that to the East I faced.
Nor even thus our way continued far
  Before the lady wholly turned herself
  Unto me, saying, "Brother, look and listen!"
And lo! a sudden lustre ran across
  On every side athwart the spacious forest,
  Such that it made me doubt if it were lightning.
But since the lightning ceases as it comes,
  And that continuing brightened more and more,
  Within my thought I said, "What thing is this?"
And a delicious melody there ran
  Along the luminous air, whence holy zeal
  Made me rebuke the hardihood of Eve;
For there where earth and heaven obedient were,
  The woman only, and but just created,
  Could not endure to stay 'neath any veil;
Underneath which had she devoutly stayed,
  I sooner should have tasted those delights
  Ineffable, and for a longer time.
While 'mid such manifold first-fruits I walked
  Of the eternal pleasure all enrapt,
  And still solicitous of more delights,
In front of us like an enkindled fire
  Became the air beneath the verdant boughs,
  And the sweet sound as singing now was heard.
O Virgins sacrosanct! if ever hunger,
  Vigils, or cold for you I have endured,
  The occasion spurs me their reward to claim!
Now Helicon must needs pour forth for me,
  And with her choir Urania must assist me,
  To put in verse things difficult to think.
A little farther on, seven trees of gold
  In semblance the long space still intervening
  Between ourselves and them did counterfeit;
But when I had approached so near to them
  The common object, which the sense deceives,
  Lost not by distance any of its marks,
The faculty that lends discourse to reason
  Did apprehend that they were candlesticks,
  And in the voices of the song "Hosanna!"
Above them flamed the harness beautiful,
  Far brighter than the moon in the serene
  Of midnight, at the middle of her month.
I turned me round, with admiration filled,
  To good Virgilius, and he answered me
  With visage no less full of wonderment.
Then back I turned my face to those high things,
  Which moved themselves towards us so sedately,
  They had been distanced by new-wedded brides.
The lady chid me: "Why dost thou burn only
  So with affection for the living lights,
  And dost not look at what comes after them?"
Then saw I people, as behind their leaders,
  Coming behind them, garmented in white,
  And such a whiteness never was on earth.
The water on my left flank was resplendent,
  And back to me reflected my left side,
  E'en as a mirror, if I looked therein.
When I upon my margin had such post
  That nothing but the stream divided us,
  Better to see I gave my steps repose;
And I beheld the flamelets onward go,
  Leaving behind themselves the air depicted,
  And they of trailing pennons had the semblance,
So that it overhead remained distinct
  With sevenfold lists, all of them of the colours
  Whence the sun's bow is made, and Delia's girdle.
These standards to the rearward longer were
  Than was my sight; and, as it seemed to me,
  Ten paces were the outermost apart.
Under so fair a heaven as I describe
  The four and twenty Elders, two by two,
  Came on incoronate with flower-de-luce.
They all of them were singing: "Blessed thou
  Among the daughters of Adam art, and blessed
  For evermore shall be thy loveliness."
After the flowers and other tender grasses
  In front of me upon the other margin
  Were disencumbered of that race elect,
Even as in heaven star followeth after star,
  There came close after them four animals,
  Incoronate each one with verdant leaf.
Plumed with six wings was every one of them,
  The plumage full of eyes; the eyes of Argus
  If they were living would be such as these.
Reader! to trace their forms no more I waste
  My rhymes; for other spendings press me so,
  That I in this cannot be prodigal.
But read Ezekiel, who depicteth them
  As he beheld them from the region cold
  Coming with cloud, with whirlwind, and with fire;
And such as thou shalt find them in his pages,
  Such were they here; saving that in their plumage
  John is with me, and differeth from him.
The interval between these four contained
  A chariot triumphal on two wheels,
  Which by a Griffin's neck came drawn along;
And upward he extended both his wings
  Between the middle list and three and three,
  So that he injured none by cleaving it.
So high they rose that they were lost to sight;
  His limbs were gold, so far as he was bird,
  And white the others with vermilion mingled.
Not only Rome with no such splendid car
  E'er gladdened Africanus, or Augustus,
  But poor to it that of the Sun would be,--
That of the Sun, which swerving was burnt up
  At the importunate orison of Earth,
  When Jove was so mysteriously just.
Three maidens at the right wheel in a circle
  Came onward dancing; one so very red
  That in the fire she hardly had been noted.
The second was as if her flesh and bones
  Had all been fashioned out of emerald;
  The third appeared as snow but newly fallen.
And now they seemed conducted by the white,
  Now by the red, and from the song of her
  The others took their step, or slow or swift.
Upon the left hand four made holiday
  Vested in purple, following the measure
  Of one of them with three eyes m her head.
In rear of all the group here treated of
  Two old men I beheld, unlike in habit,
  But like in gait, each dignified and grave.
One showed himself as one of the disciples
  Of that supreme Hippocrates, whom nature
  Made for the animals she holds most dear;
Contrary care the other manifested,
  With sword so shining and so sharp, it caused
  Terror to me on this side of the river.
Thereafter four I saw of humble aspect,
  And behind all an aged man alone
  Walking in sleep with countenance acute.
And like the foremost company these seven
  Were habited; yet of the flower-de-luce
  No garland round about the head they wore,
But of the rose, and other flowers vermilion;
  At little distance would the sight have sworn
  That all were in a flame above their brows.
And when the car was opposite to me
  Thunder was heard; and all that folk august
  Seemed to have further progress interdicted,
There with the vanward ensigns standing still.
Purgatorio: Canto XXX
When the Septentrion of the highest heaven
  (Which never either setting knew or rising,
  Nor veil of other cloud than that of sin,
And which made every one therein aware
  Of his own duty, as the lower makes
  Whoever turns the helm to come to port)
Motionless halted, the veracious people,
  That came at first between it and the Griffin,
  Turned themselves to the car, as to their peace.
And one of them, as if by Heaven commissioned,
  Singing, "Veni, sponsa, de Libano"
  Shouted three times, and all the others after.
Even as the Blessed at the final summons
  Shall rise up quickened each one from his cavern,
  Uplifting light the reinvested flesh,
So upon that celestial chariot
  A hundred rose 'ad vocem tanti senis,'
  Ministers and messengers of life eternal.
They all were saying, "Benedictus qui venis,"
  And, scattering flowers above and round about,
  "Manibus o date lilia plenis."
Ere now have I beheld, as day began,
  The eastern hemisphere all tinged with rose,
  And the other heaven with fair serene adorned;
And the sun's face, uprising, overshadowed
  So that by tempering influence of vapours
  For a long interval the eye sustained it;
Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers
  Which from those hands angelical ascended,
  And downward fell again inside and out,
Over her snow-white veil with olive cinct
  Appeared a lady under a green mantle,
  Vested in colour of the living flame.
And my own spirit, that already now
  So long a time had been, that in her presence
  Trembling with awe it had not stood abashed,
Without more knowledge having by mine eyes,
  Through occult virtue that from her proceeded
  Of ancient love the mighty influence felt.
As soon as on my vision smote the power
  Sublime, that had already pierced me through
  Ere from my boyhood I had yet come forth,
To the left hand I turned with that reliance
  With which the little child runs to his mother,
  When he has fear, or when he is afflicted,
To say unto Virgilius: "Not a drachm
  Of blood remains in me, that does not tremble;
  I know the traces of the ancient flame."
But us Virgilius of himself deprived
  Had left, Virgilius, sweetest of all fathers,
  Virgilius, to whom I for safety gave me:
Nor whatsoever lost the ancient mother
  Availed my cheeks now purified from dew,
  That weeping they should not again be darkened.
"Dante, because Virgilius has departed
  Do not weep yet, do not weep yet awhile;
  For by another sword thou need'st must weep."
E'en as an admiral, who on poop and prow
  Comes to behold the people that are working
  In other ships, and cheers them to well-doing,
Upon the left hand border of the car,
  When at the sound I turned of my own name,
  Which of necessity is here recorded,
I saw the Lady, who erewhile appeared
  Veiled underneath the angelic festival,
  Direct her eyes to me across the river.
Although the veil, that from her head descended,
  Encircled with the foliage of Minerva,
  Did not permit her to appear distinctly,
In attitude still royally majestic
  Continued she, like unto one who speaks,
  And keeps his warmest utterance in reserve:
"Look at me well; in sooth I'm Beatrice!
  How didst thou deign to come unto the Mountain?
  Didst thou not know that man is happy here?"
Mine eyes fell downward into the clear fountain,
  But, seeing myself therein, I sought the grass,
  So great a shame did weigh my forehead down.
As to the son the mother seems superb,
  So she appeared to me; for somewhat bitter
  Tasteth the savour of severe compassion.
Silent became she, and the Angels sang
  Suddenly, "In te, Domine, speravi:"
  But beyond 'pedes meos' did not pass.
Even as the snow among the living rafters
  Upon the back of Italy congeals,
  Blown on and drifted by Sclavonian winds,
And then, dissolving, trickles through itself
  Whene'er the land that loses shadow breathes,
  So that it seems a fire that melts a taper;
E'en thus was I without a tear or sigh,
  Before the song of those who sing for ever
  After the music of the eternal spheres.
But when I heard in their sweet melodies
  Compassion for me, more than had they said,
  "O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus upbraid him?"
The ice, that was about my heart congealed,
  To air and water changed, and in my anguish
  Through mouth and eyes came gushing from my breast.
She, on the right-hand border of the car
  Still firmly standing, to those holy beings
  Thus her discourse directed afterwards:
"Ye keep your watch in the eternal day,
  So that nor night nor sleep can steal from you
  One step the ages make upon their path;
Therefore my answer is with greater care,
  That he may hear me who is weeping yonder,
  So that the sin and dole be of one measure.
Not only by the work of those great wheels,
  That destine every seed unto some end,
  According as the stars are in conjunction,
But by the largess of celestial graces,
  Which have such lofty vapours for their rain
  That near to them our sight approaches not,
Such had this man become in his new life
  Potentially, that every righteous habit
  Would have made admirable proof in him;
But so much more malignant and more savage
  Becomes the land untilled and with bad seed,
  The more good earthly vigour it possesses.
Some time did I sustain him with my look;
  Revealing unto him my youthful eyes,
  I led him with me turned in the right way.
As soon as ever of my second age
  I was upon the threshold and changed life,
  Himself from me he took and gave to others.
When from the flesh to spirit I ascended,
  And beauty and virtue were in me increased,
  I was to him less dear and less delightful;
And into ways untrue he turned his steps,
  Pursuing the false images of good,
  That never any promises fulfil;
Nor prayer for inspiration me availed,
  By means of which in dreams and otherwise
  I called him back, so little did he heed them.
So low he fell, that all appliances
  For his salvation were already short,
  Save showing him the people of perdition.
For this I visited the gates of death,
  And unto him, who so far up has led him,
  My intercessions were with weeping borne.
God's lofty fiat would be violated,
  If Lethe should be passed, and if such viands
  Should tasted be, withouten any scot
Of penitence, that gushes forth in tears."
Purgatorio: Canto XXXI
"O thou who art beyond the sacred river,"
  Turning to me the point of her discourse,
  That edgewise even had seemed to me so keen,
She recommenced, continuing without pause,
  "Say, say if this be true; to such a charge,
  Thy own confession needs must be conjoined."
My faculties were in so great confusion,
  That the voice moved, but sooner was extinct
  Than by its organs it was set at large.
Awhile she waited; then she said: "What thinkest?
  Answer me; for the mournful memories
  In thee not yet are by the waters injured."
Confusion and dismay together mingled
  Forced such a Yes! from out my mouth, that sight
  Was needful to the understanding of it.
Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 'tis discharged
  Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow,
  And with less force the arrow hits the mark,
So I gave way beneath that heavy burden,
  Outpouring in a torrent tears and sighs,
  And the voice flagged upon its passage forth.
Whence she to me: "In those desires of mine
  Which led thee to the loving of that good,
  Beyond which there is nothing to aspire to,
What trenches lying traverse or what chains
  Didst thou discover, that of passing onward
  Thou shouldst have thus despoiled thee of the hope?
And what allurements or what vantages
  Upon the forehead of the others showed,
  That thou shouldst turn thy footsteps unto them?"
After the heaving of a bitter sigh,
  Hardly had I the voice to make response,
  And with fatigue my lips did fashion it.
Weeping I said: "The things that present were
  With their false pleasure turned aside my steps,
  Soon as your countenance concealed itself."
And she: "Shouldst thou be silent, or deny
  What thou confessest, not less manifest
  Would be thy fault, by such a Judge 'tis known.
But when from one's own cheeks comes bursting forth
  The accusal of the sin, in our tribunal
  Against the edge the wheel doth turn itself.
But still, that thou mayst feel a greater shame
  For thy transgression, and another time
  Hearing the Sirens thou mayst be more strong,
Cast down the seed of weeping and attend;
  So shalt thou hear, how in an opposite way
  My buried flesh should have directed thee.
Never to thee presented art or nature
  Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein
  I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth.
And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee
  By reason of my death, what mortal thing
  Should then have drawn thee into its desire?
Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft
  Of things fallacious to have risen up
  To follow me, who was no longer such.
Thou oughtest not to have stooped thy pinions downward
  To wait for further blows, or little girl,
  Or other vanity of such brief use.
The callow birdlet waits for two or three,
  But to the eyes of those already fledged,
  In vain the net is spread or shaft is shot."
Even as children silent in their shame
  Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground,
  And conscious of their fault, and penitent;
So was I standing; and she said: "If thou
  In hearing sufferest pain, lift up thy beard
  And thou shalt feel a greater pain in seeing."
With less resistance is a robust holm
  Uprooted, either by a native wind
  Or else by that from regions of Iarbas,
Than I upraised at her command my chin;
  And when she by the beard the face demanded,
  Well I perceived the venom of her meaning.
And as my countenance was lifted up,
  Mine eye perceived those creatures beautiful
  Had rested from the strewing of the flowers;
And, still but little reassured, mine eyes
  Saw Beatrice turned round towards the monster,
  That is one person only in two natures.
Beneath her veil, beyond the margent green,
  She seemed to me far more her ancient self
  To excel, than others here, when she was here.
So pricked me then the thorn of penitence,
  That of all other things the one which turned me
  Most to its love became the most my foe.
Such self-conviction stung me at the heart
  O'erpowered I fell, and what I then became
  She knoweth who had furnished me the cause.
Then, when the heart restored my outward sense,
  The lady I had found alone, above me
  I saw, and she was saying, "Hold me, hold me."
Up to my throat she in the stream had drawn me,
  And, dragging me behind her, she was moving
  Upon the water lightly as a shuttle.
When I was near unto the blessed shore,
  "Asperges me," I heard so sweetly sung,
  Remember it I cannot, much less write it.
The beautiful lady opened wide her arms,
  Embraced my head, and plunged me underneath,
  Where I was forced to swallow of the water.
Then forth she drew me, and all dripping brought
  Into the dance of the four beautiful,
  And each one with her arm did cover me.
'We here are Nymphs, and in the Heaven are stars;
  Ere Beatrice descended to the world,
  We as her handmaids were appointed her.
We'll lead thee to her eyes; but for the pleasant
  Light that within them is, shall sharpen thine
  The three beyond, who more profoundly look.'
Thus singing they began; and afterwards
  Unto the Griffin's breast they led me with them,
  Where Beatrice was standing, turned towards us.
"See that thou dost not spare thine eyes," they said;
  "Before the emeralds have we stationed thee,
  Whence Love aforetime drew for thee his weapons."
A thousand longings, hotter than the flame,
  Fastened mine eyes upon those eyes relucent,
  That still upon the Griffin steadfast stayed.
As in a glass the sun, not otherwise
  Within them was the twofold monster shining,
  Now with the one, now with the other nature.
Think, Reader, if within myself I marvelled,
  When I beheld the thing itself stand still,
  And in its image it transformed itself.
While with amazement filled and jubilant,
  My soul was tasting of the food, that while
  It satisfies us makes us hunger for it,
Themselves revealing of the highest rank
  In bearing, did the other three advance,
  Singing to their angelic saraband.
"Turn, Beatrice, O turn thy holy eyes,"
  Such was their song, "unto thy faithful one,
  Who has to see thee ta'en so many steps.
In grace do us the grace that thou unveil
  Thy face to him, so that he may discern
  The second beauty which thou dost conceal."
O splendour of the living light eternal!
  Who underneath the shadow of Parnassus
  Has grown so pale, or drunk so at its cistern,
He would not seem to have his mind encumbered
  Striving to paint thee as thou didst appear,
  Where the harmonious heaven o'ershadowed thee,
When in the open air thou didst unveil?
Purgatorio: Canto XXXII
So steadfast and attentive were mine eyes
  In satisfying their decennial thirst,
  That all my other senses were extinct,
And upon this side and on that they had
  Walls of indifference, so the holy smile
  Drew them unto itself with the old net
When forcibly my sight was turned away
  Towards my left hand by those goddesses,
  Because I heard from them a "Too intently!"
And that condition of the sight which is
  In eyes but lately smitten by the sun
  Bereft me of my vision some short while;
But to the less when sight re-shaped itself,
  I say the less in reference to the greater
  Splendour from which perforce I had withdrawn,
I saw upon its right wing wheeled about
  The glorious host returning with the sun
  And with the sevenfold flames upon their faces.
As underneath its shields, to save itself,
  A squadron turns, and with its banner wheels,
  Before the whole thereof can change its front,
That soldiery of the celestial kingdom
  Which marched in the advance had wholly passed us
  Before the chariot had turned its pole.
Then to the wheels the maidens turned themselves,
  And the Griffin moved his burden benedight,
  But so that not a feather of him fluttered.
The lady fair who drew me through the ford
  Followed with Statius and myself the wheel
  Which made its orbit with the lesser arc.
So passing through the lofty forest, vacant
  By fault of her who in the serpent trusted,
  Angelic music made our steps keep time.
Perchance as great a space had in three flights
  An arrow loosened from the string o'erpassed,
  As we had moved when Beatrice descended.
I heard them murmur altogether, "Adam!"
  Then circled they about a tree despoiled
  Of blooms and other leafage on each bough.
Its tresses, which so much the more dilate
  As higher they ascend, had been by Indians
  Among their forests marvelled at for height.
"Blessed art thou, O Griffin, who dost not
  Pluck with thy beak these branches sweet to taste,
  Since appetite by this was turned to evil."
After this fashion round the tree robust
  The others shouted; and the twofold creature:
  "Thus is preserved the seed of all the just."
And turning to the pole which he had dragged,
  He drew it close beneath the widowed bough,
  And what was of it unto it left bound.
In the same manner as our trees (when downward
  Falls the great light, with that together mingled
  Which after the celestial Lasca shines)
Begin to swell, and then renew themselves,
  Each one with its own colour, ere the Sun
  Harness his steeds beneath another star:
Less than of rose and more than violet
  A hue disclosing, was renewed the tree
  That had erewhile its boughs so desolate.
I never heard, nor here below is sung,
  The hymn which afterward that people sang,
  Nor did I bear the melody throughout.
Had I the power to paint how fell asleep
  Those eyes compassionless, of Syrinx hearing,
  Those eyes to which more watching cost so dear,
Even as a painter who from model paints
  I would portray how I was lulled asleep;
  He may, who well can picture drowsihood.
Therefore I pass to what time I awoke,
  And say a splendour rent from me the veil
  Of slumber, and a calling: "Rise, what dost thou?"
As to behold the apple-tree in blossom
  Which makes the Angels greedy for its fruit,
  And keeps perpetual bridals in the Heaven,
Peter and John and James conducted were,
  And, overcome, recovered at the word
  By which still greater slumbers have been broken,
And saw their school diminished by the loss
  Not only of Elias, but of Moses,
  And the apparel of their Master changed;
So I revived, and saw that piteous one
  Above me standing, who had been conductress
  Aforetime of my steps beside the river,
And all in doubt I said, "Where's Beatrice?"
  And she: "Behold her seated underneath
  The leafage new, upon the root of it.
Behold the company that circles her;
  The rest behind the Griffin are ascending
  With more melodious song, and more profound."
And if her speech were more diffuse I know not,
  Because already in my sight was she
  Who from the hearing of aught else had shut me.
Alone she sat upon the very earth,
  Left there as guardian of the chariot
  Which I had seen the biform monster fasten.
Encircling her, a cloister made themselves
  The seven Nymphs, with those lights in their hands
  Which are secure from Aquilon and Auster.
"Short while shalt thou be here a forester,
  And thou shalt be with me for evermore
  A citizen of that Rome where Christ is Roman.
Therefore, for that world's good which liveth ill,
  Fix on the car thine eyes, and what thou seest,
  Having returned to earth, take heed thou write."
Thus Beatrice; and I, who at the feet
  Of her commandments all devoted was,
  My mind and eyes directed where she willed.
Never descended with so swift a motion
  Fire from a heavy cloud, when it is raining
  From out the region which is most remote,
As I beheld the bird of Jove descend
  Down through the tree, rending away the bark,
  As well as blossoms and the foliage new,
And he with all his might the chariot smote,
  Whereat it reeled, like vessel in a tempest
  Tossed by the waves, now starboard and now larboard.
Thereafter saw I leap into the body
  Of the triumphal vehicle a Fox,
  That seemed unfed with any wholesome food.
But for his hideous sins upbraiding him,
  My Lady put him to as swift a flight
  As such a fleshless skeleton could bear.
Then by the way that it before had come,
  Into the chariot's chest I saw the Eagle
  Descend, and leave it feathered with his plumes.
And such as issues from a heart that mourns,
  A voice from Heaven there issued, and it said:
  "My little bark, how badly art thou freighted!"
Methought, then, that the earth did yawn between
  Both wheels, and I saw rise from it a Dragon,
  Who through the chariot upward fixed his tail,
And as a wasp that draweth back its sting,
  Drawing unto himself his tail malign,
  Drew out the floor, and went his way rejoicing.
That which remained behind, even as with grass
  A fertile region, with the feathers, offered
  Perhaps with pure intention and benign,
Reclothed itself, and with them were reclothed
  The pole and both the wheels so speedily,
  A sigh doth longer keep the lips apart.
Transfigured thus the holy edifice
  Thrust forward heads upon the parts of it,
  Three on the pole and one at either corner.
The first were horned like oxen; but the four
  Had but a single horn upon the forehead;
  A monster such had never yet been seen!
Firm as a rock upon a mountain high,
  Seated upon it, there appeared to me
  A shameless whore, with eyes swift glancing round,
And, as if not to have her taken from him,
  Upright beside her I beheld a giant;
  And ever and anon they kissed each other.
But because she her wanton, roving eye
  Turned upon me, her angry paramour
  Did scourge her from her head unto her feet.
Then full of jealousy, and fierce with wrath,
  He loosed the monster, and across the forest
  Dragged it so far, he made of that alone
A shield unto the whore and the strange beast.
Purgatorio: Canto XXXIII
"Deus venerunt gentes," alternating
  Now three, now four, melodious psalmody
  The maidens in the midst of tears began;
And Beatrice, compassionate and sighing,
  Listened to them with such a countenance,
  That scarce more changed was Mary at the cross.
But when the other virgins place had given
  For her to speak, uprisen to her feet
  With colour as of fire, she made response:
"'Modicum, et non videbitis me;
  Et iterum,' my sisters predilect,
  'Modicum, et vos videbitis me.'"
Then all the seven in front of her she placed;
  And after her, by beckoning only, moved
  Me and the lady and the sage who stayed.
So she moved onward; and I do not think
  That her tenth step was placed upon the ground,
  When with her eyes upon mine eyes she smote,
And with a tranquil aspect, "Come more quickly,"
  To me she said, "that, if I speak with thee,
  To listen to me thou mayst be well placed."
As soon as I was with her as I should be,
  She said to me: "Why, brother, dost thou not
  Venture to question now, in coming with me?"
As unto those who are too reverential,
  Speaking in presence of superiors,
  Who drag no living utterance to their teeth,
It me befell, that without perfect sound
  Began I: "My necessity, Madonna,
  You know, and that which thereunto is good."
And she to me: "Of fear and bashfulness
  Henceforward I will have thee strip thyself,
  So that thou speak no more as one who dreams.
Know that the vessel which the serpent broke
  Was, and is not; but let him who is guilty
  Think that God's vengeance does not fear a sop.
Without an heir shall not for ever be
  The Eagle that left his plumes upon the car,
  Whence it became a monster, then a prey;
For verily I see, and hence narrate it,
  The stars already near to bring the time,
  From every hindrance safe, and every bar,
Within which a Five-hundred, Ten, and Five,
  One sent from God, shall slay the thievish woman
  And that same giant who is sinning with her.
And peradventure my dark utterance,
  Like Themis and the Sphinx, may less persuade thee,
  Since, in their mode, it clouds the intellect;
But soon the facts shall be the Naiades
  Who shall this difficult enigma solve,
  Without destruction of the flocks and harvests.
Note thou; and even as by me are uttered
  These words, so teach them unto those who live
  That life which is a running unto death;
And bear in mind, whene'er thou writest them,
  Not to conceal what thou hast seen the plant,
  That twice already has been pillaged here.
Whoever pillages or shatters it,
  With blasphemy of deed offendeth God,
  Who made it holy for his use alone.
For biting that, in pain and in desire
  Five thousand years and more the first-born soul
  Craved Him, who punished in himself the bite.
Thy genius slumbers, if it deem it not
  For special reason so pre-eminent
  In height, and so inverted in its summit.
And if thy vain imaginings had not been
  Water of Elsa round about thy mind,
  And Pyramus to the mulberry, their pleasure,
Thou by so many circumstances only
  The justice of the interdict of God
  Morally in the tree wouldst recognize.
But since I see thee in thine intellect
  Converted into stone and stained with sin,
  So that the light of my discourse doth daze thee,
I will too, if not written, at least painted,
  Thou bear it back within thee, for the reason
  That cinct with palm the pilgrim's staff is borne."
And I: "As by a signet is the wax
  Which does not change the figure stamped upon it,
  My brain is now imprinted by yourself.
But wherefore so beyond my power of sight
  Soars your desirable discourse, that aye
  The more I strive, so much the more I lose it?"
"That thou mayst recognize," she said, "the school
  Which thou hast followed, and mayst see how far
  Its doctrine follows after my discourse,
And mayst behold your path from the divine
  Distant as far as separated is
  From earth the heaven that highest hastens on."
Whence her I answered: "I do not remember
  That ever I estranged myself from you,
  Nor have I conscience of it that reproves me."
"And if thou art not able to remember,"
  Smiling she answered, "recollect thee now
  That thou this very day hast drunk of Lethe;
And if from smoke a fire may be inferred,
  Such an oblivion clearly demonstrates
  Some error in thy will elsewhere intent.
Truly from this time forward shall my words
  Be naked, so far as it is befitting
  To lay them open unto thy rude gaze."
And more coruscant and with slower steps
  The sun was holding the meridian circle,
  Which, with the point of view, shifts here and there
When halted (as he cometh to a halt,
  Who goes before a squadron as its escort,
  If something new he find upon his way)
The ladies seven at a dark shadow's edge,
  Such as, beneath green leaves and branches black,
  The Alp upon its frigid border wears.
In front of them the Tigris and Euphrates
  Methought I saw forth issue from one fountain,
  And slowly part, like friends, from one another.
"O light, O glory of the human race!
  What stream is this which here unfolds itself
  From out one source, and from itself withdraws?"
For such a prayer, 'twas said unto me, "Pray
  Matilda that she tell thee;" and here answered,
  As one does who doth free himself from blame,
The beautiful lady: "This and other things
  Were told to him by me; and sure I am
  The water of Lethe has not hid them from him."
And Beatrice: "Perhaps a greater care,
  Which oftentimes our memory takes away,
  Has made the vision of his mind obscure.
But Eunoe behold, that yonder rises;
  Lead him to it, and, as thou art accustomed,
  Revive again the half-dead virtue in him."
Like gentle soul, that maketh no excuse,
  But makes its own will of another's will
  As soon as by a sign it is disclosed,
Even so, when she had taken hold of me,
  The beautiful lady moved, and unto Statius
  Said, in her womanly manner, "Come with him."
If, Reader, I possessed a longer space
  For writing it, I yet would sing in part
  Of the sweet draught that ne'er would satiate me;
But inasmuch as full are all the leaves
  Made ready for this second canticle,
  The curb of art no farther lets me go.
From the most holy water I returned
  Regenerate, in the manner of new trees
  That are renewed with a new foliage,
Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars.
The Divine Comedy
translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(e-text courtesy ILT's Digital Dante Project)
Paradiso: Canto I
The glory of Him who moveth everything
  Doth penetrate the universe, and shine
  In one part more and in another less.
Within that heaven which most his light receives
  Was I, and things beheld which to repeat
  Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends;
Because in drawing near to its desire
  Our intellect ingulphs itself so far,
  That after it the memory cannot go.
Truly whatever of the holy realm
  I had the power to treasure in my mind
  Shall now become the subject of my song.
O good Apollo, for this last emprise
  Make of me such a vessel of thy power
  As giving the beloved laurel asks!
One summit of Parnassus hitherto
  Has been enough for me, but now with both
  I needs must enter the arena left.
Enter into my bosom, thou, and breathe
  As at the time when Marsyas thou didst draw
  Out of the scabbard of those limbs of his.
O power divine, lend'st thou thyself to me
  So that the shadow of the blessed realm
  Stamped in my brain I can make manifest,
Thou'lt see me come unto thy darling tree,
  And crown myself thereafter with those leaves
  Of which the theme and thou shall make me worthy.
So seldom, Father, do we gather them
  For triumph or of Caesar or of Poet,
  (The fault and shame of human inclinations,)
That the Peneian foliage should bring forth
  Joy to the joyous Delphic deity,
  When any one it makes to thirst for it.
A little spark is followed by great flame;
  Perchance with better voices after me
  Shall prayer be made that Cyrrha may respond!
To mortal men by passages diverse
  Uprises the world's lamp; but by that one
  Which circles four uniteth with three crosses,
With better course and with a better star
  Conjoined it issues, and the mundane wax
  Tempers and stamps more after its own fashion.
Almost that passage had made morning there
  And evening here, and there was wholly white
  That hemisphere, and black the other part,
When Beatrice towards the left-hand side
  I saw turned round, and gazing at the sun;
  Never did eagle fasten so upon it!
And even as a second ray is wont
  To issue from the first and reascend,
  Like to a pilgrim who would fain return,
Thus of her action, through the eyes infused
  In my imagination, mine I made,
  And sunward fixed mine eyes beyond our wont.
There much is lawful which is here unlawful
  Unto our powers, by virtue of the place
  Made for the human species as its own.
Not long I bore it, nor so little while
  But I beheld it sparkle round about
  Like iron that comes molten from the fire;
And suddenly it seemed that day to day
  Was added, as if He who has the power
  Had with another sun the heaven adorned.
With eyes upon the everlasting wheels
  Stood Beatrice all intent, and I, on her
  Fixing my vision from above removed,
Such at her aspect inwardly became
  As Glaucus, tasting of the herb that made him
  Peer of the other gods beneath the sea.
To represent transhumanise in words
  Impossible were; the example, then, suffice
  Him for whom Grace the experience reserves.
If I was merely what of me thou newly
  Createdst, Love who governest the heaven,
  Thou knowest, who didst lift me with thy light!
When now the wheel, which thou dost make eternal
  Desiring thee, made me attentive to it
  By harmony thou dost modulate and measure,
Then seemed to me so much of heaven enkindled
  By the sun's flame, that neither rain nor river
  E'er made a lake so widely spread abroad.
The newness of the sound and the great light
  Kindled in me a longing for their cause,
  Never before with such acuteness felt;
Whence she, who saw me as I saw myself,
  To quiet in me my perturbed mind,
  Opened her mouth, ere I did mine to ask,
And she began: "Thou makest thyself so dull
  With false imagining, that thou seest not
  What thou wouldst see if thou hadst shaken it off.
Thou art not upon earth, as thou believest;
  But lightning, fleeing its appropriate site,
  Ne'er ran as thou, who thitherward returnest."
If of my former doubt I was divested
  By these brief little words more smiled than spoken,
  I in a new one was the more ensnared;
And said: "Already did I rest content
  From great amazement; but am now amazed
  In what way I transcend these bodies light."
Whereupon she, after a pitying sigh,
  Her eyes directed tow'rds me with that look
  A mother casts on a delirious child;
And she began: "All things whate'er they be
  Have order among themselves, and this is form,
  That makes the universe resemble God.
Here do the higher creatures see the footprints
  Of the Eternal Power, which is the end
  Whereto is made the law already mentioned.
In the order that I speak of are inclined
  All natures, by their destinies diverse,
  More or less near unto their origin;
Hence they move onward unto ports diverse
  O'er the great sea of being; and each one
  With instinct given it which bears it on.
This bears away the fire towards the moon;
  This is in mortal hearts the motive power
  This binds together and unites the earth.
Nor only the created things that are
  Without intelligence this bow shoots forth,
  But those that have both intellect and love.
The Providence that regulates all this
  Makes with its light the heaven forever quiet,
  Wherein that turns which has the greatest haste.
And thither now, as to a site decreed,
  Bears us away the virtue of that cord
  Which aims its arrows at a joyous mark.
True is it, that as oftentimes the form
  Accords not with the intention of the art,
  Because in answering is matter deaf,
So likewise from this course doth deviate
  Sometimes the creature, who the power possesses,
  Though thus impelled, to swerve some other way,
(In the same wise as one may see the fire
  Fall from a cloud,) if the first impetus
  Earthward is wrested by some false delight.
Thou shouldst not wonder more, if well I judge,
  At thine ascent, than at a rivulet
  From some high mount descending to the lowland.
Marvel it would be in thee, if deprived
  Of hindrance, thou wert seated down below,
  As if on earth the living fire were quiet."
Thereat she heavenward turned again her face.
Paradiso: Canto II
O Ye, who in some pretty little boat,
  Eager to listen, have been following
  Behind my ship, that singing sails along,
Turn back to look again upon your shores;
  Do not put out to sea, lest peradventure,
  In losing me, you might yourselves be lost.
The sea I sail has never yet been passed;
  Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo,
  And Muses nine point out to me the Bears.
Ye other few who have the neck uplifted
  Betimes to th' bread of Angels upon which
  One liveth here and grows not sated by it,
Well may you launch upon the deep salt-sea
  Your vessel, keeping still my wake before you
  Upon the water that grows smooth again.
Those glorious ones who unto Colchos passed
  Were not so wonder-struck as you shall be,
  When Jason they beheld a ploughman made!
The con-created and perpetual thirst
  For the realm deiform did bear us on,
  As swift almost as ye the heavens behold.
Upward gazed Beatrice, and I at her;
  And in such space perchance as strikes a bolt
  And flies, and from the notch unlocks itself,
Arrived I saw me where a wondrous thing
  Drew to itself my sight; and therefore she
  From whom no care of mine could be concealed,
Towards me turning, blithe as beautiful,
  Said unto me: "Fix gratefully thy mind
  On God, who unto the first star has brought us."
It seemed to me a cloud encompassed us,
  Luminous, dense, consolidate and bright
  As adamant on which the sun is striking.
Into itself did the eternal pearl
  Receive us, even as water doth receive
  A ray of light, remaining still unbroken.
If I was body, (and we here conceive not
  How one dimension tolerates another,
  Which needs must be if body enter body,)
More the desire should be enkindled in us
  That essence to behold, wherein is seen
  How God and our own nature were united.
There will be seen what we receive by faith,
  Not demonstrated, but self-evident
  In guise of the first truth that man believes.
I made reply: "Madonna, as devoutly
  As most I can do I give thanks to Him
  Who has removed me from the mortal world.
But tell me what the dusky spots may be
  Upon this body, which below on earth
  Make people tell that fabulous tale of Cain?"
Somewhat she smiled; and then, "If the opinion
  Of mortals be erroneous," she said,
  "Where'er the key of sense doth not unlock,
Certes, the shafts of wonder should not pierce thee
  Now, forasmuch as, following the senses,
  Thou seest that the reason has short wings.
But tell me what thou think'st of it thyself."
  And I: "What seems to us up here diverse,
  Is caused, I think, by bodies rare and dense."
And she: "Right truly shalt thou see immersed
  In error thy belief, if well thou hearest
  The argument that I shall make against it.
Lights many the eighth sphere displays to you
  Which in their quality and quantity
  May noted be of aspects different.
If this were caused by rare and dense alone,
  One only virtue would there be in all
  Or more or less diffused, or equally.
Virtues diverse must be perforce the fruits
  Of formal principles; and these, save one,
  Of course would by thy reasoning be destroyed.
Besides, if rarity were of this dimness
  The cause thou askest, either through and through
  This planet thus attenuate were of matter,
Or else, as in a body is apportioned
  The fat and lean, so in like manner this
  Would in its volume interchange the leaves.
Were it the former, in the sun's eclipse
  It would be manifest by the shining through
  Of light, as through aught tenuous interfused.
This is not so; hence we must scan the other,
  And if it chance the other I demolish,
  Then falsified will thy opinion be.
But if this rarity go not through and through,
  There needs must be a limit, beyond which
  Its contrary prevents the further passing,
And thence the foreign radiance is reflected,
  Even as a colour cometh back from glass,
  The which behind itself concealeth lead.
Now thou wilt say the sunbeam shows itself
  More dimly there than in the other parts,
  By being there reflected farther back.
From this reply experiment will free thee
  If e'er thou try it, which is wont to be
  The fountain to the rivers of your arts.
Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove
  Alike from thee, the other more remote
  Between the former two shall meet thine eyes.
Turned towards these, cause that behind thy back
  Be placed a light, illuming the three mirrors
  And coming back to thee by all reflected.
Though in its quantity be not so ample
  The image most remote, there shalt thou see
  How it perforce is equally resplendent.
Now, as beneath the touches of warm rays
  Naked the subject of the snow remains
  Both of its former colour and its cold,
Thee thus remaining in thy intellect,
  Will I inform with such a living light,
  That it shall tremble in its aspect to thee.
Within the heaven of the divine repose
  Revolves a body, in whose virtue lies
  The being of whatever it contains.
The following heaven, that has so many eyes,
  Divides this being by essences diverse,
  Distinguished from it, and by it contained.
The other spheres, by various differences,
  All the distinctions which they have within them
  Dispose unto their ends and their effects.
Thus do these organs of the world proceed,
  As thou perceivest now, from grade to grade;
  Since from above they take, and act beneath.
Observe me well, how through this place I come
  Unto the truth thou wishest, that hereafter
  Thou mayst alone know how to keep the ford
The power and motion of the holy spheres,
  As from the artisan the hammer's craft,
  Forth from the blessed motors must proceed.
The heaven, which lights so manifold make fair,
  From the Intelligence profound, which turns it,
  The image takes, and makes of it a seal.
And even as the soul within your dust
  Through members different and accommodated
  To faculties diverse expands itself,
So likewise this Intelligence diffuses
  Its virtue multiplied among the stars.
  Itself revolving on its unity.
Virtue diverse doth a diverse alloyage
  Make with the precious body that it quickens,
  In which, as life in you, it is combined.
From the glad nature whence it is derived,
  The mingled virtue through the body shines,
  Even as gladness through the living pupil.
From this proceeds whate'er from light to light
  Appeareth different, not from dense and rare:
  This is the formal principle that produces,
According to its goodness, dark and bright."
Paradiso: Canto III
That Sun, which erst with love my bosom warmed,
  Of beauteous truth had unto me discovered,
  By proving and reproving, the sweet aspect.
And, that I might confess myself convinced
  And confident, so far as was befitting,
  I lifted more erect my head to speak.
But there appeared a vision, which withdrew me
  So close to it, in order to be seen,
  That my confession I remembered not.
Such as through polished and transparent glass,
  Or waters crystalline and undisturbed,
  But not so deep as that their bed be lost,
Come back again the outlines of our faces
  So feeble, that a pearl on forehead white
  Comes not less speedily unto our eyes;
Such saw I many faces prompt to speak,
  So that I ran in error opposite
  To that which kindled love 'twixt man and fountain.
As soon as I became aware of them,
  Esteeming them as mirrored semblances,
  To see of whom they were, mine eyes I turned,
And nothing saw, and once more turned them forward
  Direct into the light of my sweet Guide,
  Who smiling kindled in her holy eyes.
"Marvel thou not," she said to me, "because
  I smile at this thy puerile conceit,
  Since on the truth it trusts not yet its foot,
But turns thee, as 'tis wont, on emptiness.
  True substances are these which thou beholdest,
  Here relegate for breaking of some vow.
Therefore speak with them, listen and believe;
  For the true light, which giveth peace to them,
  Permits them not to turn from it their feet."
And I unto the shade that seemed most wishful
  To speak directed me, and I began,
  As one whom too great eagerness bewilders:
"O well-created spirit, who in the rays
  Of life eternal dost the sweetness taste
  Which being untasted ne'er is comprehended,
Grateful 'twill be to me, if thou content me
  Both with thy name and with your destiny."
  Whereat she promptly and with laughing eyes:
"Our charity doth never shut the doors
  Against a just desire, except as one
  Who wills that all her court be like herself.
I was a virgin sister in the world;
  And if thy mind doth contemplate me well,
  The being more fair will not conceal me from thee,
But thou shalt recognise I am Piccarda,
  Who, stationed here among these other blessed,
  Myself am blessed in the slowest sphere.
All our affections, that alone inflamed
  Are in the pleasure of the Holy Ghost,
  Rejoice at being of his order formed;
And this allotment, which appears so low,
  Therefore is given us, because our vows
  Have been neglected and in some part void."
Whence I to her: "In your miraculous aspects
  There shines I know not what of the divine,
  Which doth transform you from our first conceptions.
Therefore I was not swift in my remembrance;
  But what thou tellest me now aids me so,
  That the refiguring is easier to me.
But tell me, ye who in this place are happy,
  Are you desirous of a higher place,
  To see more or to make yourselves more friends?"
First with those other shades she smiled a little;
  Thereafter answered me so full of gladness,
  She seemed to burn in the first fire of love:
"Brother, our will is quieted by virtue
  Of charity, that makes us wish alone
  For what we have, nor gives us thirst for more.
If to be more exalted we aspired,
  Discordant would our aspirations be
  Unto the will of Him who here secludes us;
Which thou shalt see finds no place in these circles,
  If being in charity is needful here,
  And if thou lookest well into its nature;
Nay, 'tis essential to this blest existence
  To keep itself within the will divine,
  Whereby our very wishes are made one;
So that, as we are station above station
  Throughout this realm, to all the realm 'tis pleasing,
  As to the King, who makes his will our will.
And his will is our peace; this is the sea
  To which is moving onward whatsoever
  It doth create, and all that nature makes."
Then it was clear to me how everywhere
  In heaven is Paradise, although the grace
  Of good supreme there rain not in one measure.
But as it comes to pass, if one food sates,
  And for another still remains the longing,
  We ask for this, and that decline with thanks,
E'en thus did I; with gesture and with word,
  To learn from her what was the web wherein
  She did not ply the shuttle to the end.
"A perfect life and merit high in-heaven
  A lady o'er us," said she, "by whose rule
  Down in your world they vest and veil themselves,
That until death they may both watch and sleep
  Beside that Spouse who every vow accepts
  Which charity conformeth to his pleasure.
To follow her, in girlhood from the world
  I fled, and in her habit shut myself,
  And pledged me to the pathway of her sect.
Then men accustomed unto evil more
  Than unto good, from the sweet cloister tore me;
  God knows what afterward my life became.
This other splendour, which to thee reveals
  Itself on my right side, and is enkindled
  With all the illumination of our sphere,
What of myself I say applies to her;
  A nun was she, and likewise from her head
  Was ta'en the shadow of the sacred wimple.
But when she too was to the world returned
  Against her wishes and against good usage,
  Of the heart's veil she never was divested.
Of great Costanza this is the effulgence,
  Who from the second wind of Suabia
  Brought forth the third and latest puissance."
Thus unto me she spake, and then began
  "Ave Maria" singing, and in singing
  Vanished, as through deep water something heavy.
My sight, that followed her as long a time
  As it was possible, when it had lost her
  Turned round unto the mark of more desire,
And wholly unto Beatrice reverted;
  But she such lightnings flashed into mine eyes,
  That at the first my sight endured it not;
And this in questioning more backward made me.
Paradiso: Canto IV
Between two viands, equally removed
  And tempting, a free man would die of hunger
  Ere either he could bring unto his teeth.
So would a lamb between the ravenings
  Of two fierce wolves stand fearing both alike;
  And so would stand a dog between two does.
Hence, if I held my peace, myself I blame not,
  Impelled in equal measure by my doubts,
  Since it must be so, nor do I commend.
I held my peace; but my desire was painted
  Upon my face, and questioning with that
  More fervent far than by articulate speech.
Beatrice did as Daniel had done
  Relieving Nebuchadnezzar from the wrath
  Which rendered him unjustly merciless,
And said: "Well see I how attracteth thee
  One and the other wish, so that thy care
  Binds itself so that forth it does not breathe.
Thou arguest, if good will be permanent,
  The violence of others, for what reason
  Doth it decrease the measure of my merit?
Again for doubting furnish thee occasion
  Souls seeming to return unto the stars,
  According to the sentiment of Plato.
These are the questions which upon thy wish
  Are thrusting equally; and therefore first
  Will I treat that which hath the most of gall.
He of the Seraphim most absorbed in God,
  Moses, and Samuel, and whichever John
  Thou mayst select, I say, and even Mary,
Have not in any other heaven their seats,
  Than have those spirits that just appeared to thee,
  Nor of existence more or fewer years;
But all make beautiful the primal circle,
  And have sweet life in different degrees,
  By feeling more or less the eternal breath.
They showed themselves here, not because allotted
  This sphere has been to them, but to give sign
  Of the celestial which is least exalted.
To speak thus is adapted to your mind,
  Since only through the sense it apprehendeth
  What then it worthy makes of intellect.
On this account the Scripture condescends
  Unto your faculties, and feet and hands
  To God attributes, and means something else;
And Holy Church under an aspect human
  Gabriel and Michael represent to you,
  And him who made Tobias whole again.
That which Timaeus argues of the soul
  Doth not resemble that which here is seen,
  Because it seems that as he speaks he thinks.
He says the soul unto its star returns,
  Believing it to have been severed thence
  Whenever nature gave it as a form.
Perhaps his doctrine is of other guise
  Than the words sound, and possibly may be
  With meaning that is not to be derided.
If he doth mean that to these wheels return
  The honour of their influence and the blame,
  Perhaps his bow doth hit upon some truth.
This principle ill understood once warped
  The whole world nearly, till it went astray
  Invoking Jove and Mercury and Mars.
The other doubt which doth disquiet thee
  Less venom has, for its malevolence
  Could never lead thee otherwhere from me.
That as unjust our justice should appear
  In eyes of mortals, is an argument
  Of faith, and not of sin heretical.
But still, that your perception may be able
  To thoroughly penetrate this verity,
  As thou desirest, I will satisfy thee.
If it be violence when he who suffers
  Co-operates not with him who uses force,
  These souls were not on that account excused;
For will is never quenched unless it will,
  But operates as nature doth in fire
  If violence a thousand times distort it.
Hence, if it yieldeth more or less, it seconds
  The force; and these have done so, having power
  Of turning back unto the holy place.
If their will had been perfect, like to that
  Which Lawrence fast upon his gridiron held,
  And Mutius made severe to his own hand,
It would have urged them back along the road
  Whence they were dragged, as soon as they were free;
  But such a solid will is all too rare.
And by these words, if thou hast gathered them
  As thou shouldst do, the argument is refuted
  That would have still annoyed thee many times.
But now another passage runs across
  Before thine eyes, and such that by thyself
  Thou couldst not thread it ere thou wouldst be weary.
I have for certain put into thy mind
  That soul beatified could never lie,
  For it is near the primal Truth,
And then thou from Piccarda might'st have heard
  Costanza kept affection for the veil,
  So that she seemeth here to contradict me.
Many times, brother, has it come to pass,
  That, to escape from peril, with reluctance
  That has been done it was not right to do,
E'en as Alcmaeon (who, being by his father
  Thereto entreated, his own mother slew)
  Not to lose pity pitiless became.
At this point I desire thee to remember
  That force with will commingles, and they cause
  That the offences cannot be excused.
Will absolute consenteth not to evil;
  But in so far consenteth as it fears,
  If it refrain, to fall into more harm.
Hence when Piccarda uses this expression,
  She meaneth the will absolute, and I
  The other, so that both of us speak truth."
Such was the flowing of the holy river
  That issued from the fount whence springs all truth;
  This put to rest my wishes one and all.
"O love of the first lover, O divine,"
  Said I forthwith, "whose speech inundates me
  And warms me so, it more and more revives me,
My own affection is not so profound
  As to suffice in rendering grace for grace;
  Let Him, who sees and can, thereto respond.
Well I perceive that never sated is
  Our intellect unless the Truth illume it,
  Beyond which nothing true expands itself.
It rests therein, as wild beast in his lair,
  When it attains it; and it can attain it;
  If not, then each desire would frustrate be.
Therefore springs up, in fashion of a shoot,
  Doubt at the foot of truth; and this is nature,
  Which to the top from height to height impels us.
This doth invite me, this assurance give me
  With reverence, Lady, to inquire of you
  Another truth, which is obscure to me.
I wish to know if man can satisfy you
  For broken vows with other good deeds, so
  That in your balance they will not be light."
Beatrice gazed upon me with her eyes
  Full of the sparks of love, and so divine,
  That, overcome my power, I turned my back
And almost lost myself with eyes downcast.
Paradiso: Canto V
"If in the heat of love I flame upon thee
  Beyond the measure that on earth is seen,
  So that the valour of thine eyes I vanquish,
Marvel thou not thereat; for this proceeds
  From perfect sight, which as it apprehends
  To the good apprehended moves its feet.
Well I perceive how is already shining
  Into thine intellect the eternal light,
  That only seen enkindles always love;
And if some other thing your love seduce,
  'Tis nothing but a vestige of the same,
  Ill understood, which there is shining through.
Thou fain wouldst know if with another service
  For broken vow can such return be made
  As to secure the soul from further claim."
This Canto thus did Beatrice begin;
  And, as a man who breaks not off his speech,
  Continued thus her holy argument:
"The greatest gift that in his largess God
  Creating made, and unto his own goodness
  Nearest conformed, and that which he doth prize
Most highly, is the freedom of the will,
  Wherewith the creatures of intelligence
  Both all and only were and are endowed.
Now wilt thou see, if thence thou reasonest,
  The high worth of a vow, if it he made
  So that when thou consentest God consents:
For, closing between God and man the compact,
  A sacrifice is of this treasure made,
  Such as I say, and made by its own act.
What can be rendered then as compensation?
  Think'st thou to make good use of what thou'st offered,
  With gains ill gotten thou wouldst do good deed.
Now art thou certain of the greater point;
  But because Holy Church in this dispenses,
  Which seems against the truth which I have shown thee,
Behoves thee still to sit awhile at table,
  Because the solid food which thou hast taken
  Requireth further aid for thy digestion.
Open thy mind to that which I reveal,
  And fix it there within; for 'tis not knowledge,
  The having heard without retaining it.
In the essence of this sacrifice two things
  Convene together; and the one is that
  Of which 'tis made, the other is the agreement.
This last for evermore is cancelled not
  Unless complied with, and concerning this
  With such precision has above been spoken.
Therefore it was enjoined upon the Hebrews
  To offer still, though sometimes what was offered
  Might be commuted, as thou ought'st to know.
The other, which is known to thee as matter,
  May well indeed be such that one errs not
  If it for other matter be exchanged.
But let none shift the burden on his shoulder
  At his arbitrament, without the turning
  Both of the white and of the yellow key;
And every permutation deem as foolish,
  If in the substitute the thing relinquished,
  As the four is in six, be not contained.
Therefore whatever thing has so great weight
  In value that it drags down every balance,
  Cannot be satisfied with other spending.
Let mortals never take a vow in jest;
  Be faithful and not blind in doing that,
  As Jephthah was in his first offering,
Whom more beseemed to say, 'I have done wrong,
  Than to do worse by keeping; and as foolish
  Thou the great leader of the Greeks wilt find,
Whence wept Iphigenia her fair face,
  And made for her both wise and simple weep,
  Who heard such kind of worship spoken of.'
Christians, be ye more serious in your movements;
  Be ye not like a feather at each wind,
  And think not every water washes you.
Ye have the Old and the New Testament,
  And the Pastor of the Church who guideth you
  Let this suffice you unto your salvation.
If evil appetite cry aught else to you,
  Be ye as men, and not as silly sheep,
  So that the Jew among you may not mock you.
Be ye not as the lamb that doth abandon
  Its mother's milk, and frolicsome and simple
  Combats at its own pleasure with itself."
Thus Beatrice to me even as I write it;
  Then all desireful turned herself again
  To that part where the world is most alive.
Her silence and her change of countenance
  Silence imposed upon my eager mind,
  That had already in advance new questions;
And as an arrow that upon the mark
  Strikes ere the bowstring quiet hath become,
  So did we speed into the second realm.
My Lady there so joyful I beheld,
  As into the brightness of that heaven she entered,
  More luminous thereat the planet grew;
And if the star itself was changed and smiled,
  What became I, who by my nature am
  Exceeding mutable in every guise!
As, in a fish-pond which is pure and tranquil,
  The fishes draw to that which from without
  Comes in such fashion that their food they deem it;
So I beheld more than a thousand splendours
  Drawing towards us, and in each was heard:
  "Lo, this is she who shall increase our love."
And as each one was coming unto us,
  Full of beatitude the shade was seen,
  By the effulgence clear that issued from it.
Think, Reader, if what here is just beginning
  No farther should proceed, how thou wouldst have
  An agonizing need of knowing more;
And of thyself thou'lt see how I from these
  Was in desire of hearing their conditions,
  As they unto mine eyes were manifest.
"O thou well-born, unto whom Grace concedes
  To see the thrones of the eternal triumph,
  Or ever yet the warfare be abandoned
With light that through the whole of heaven is spread
  Kindled are we, and hence if thou desirest
  To know of us, at thine own pleasure sate thee."
Thus by some one among those holy spirits
  Was spoken, and by Beatrice: "Speak, speak
  Securely, and believe them even as Gods."
"Well I perceive how thou dost nest thyself
  In thine own light, and drawest it from thine eyes,
  Because they coruscate when thou dost smile,
But know not who thou art, nor why thou hast,
  Spirit august, thy station in the sphere
  That veils itself to men in alien rays."
This said I in direction of the light
  Which first had spoken to me; whence it became
  By far more lucent than it was before.
Even as the sun, that doth conceal himself
  By too much light, when heat has worn away
  The tempering influence of the vapours dense,
By greater rapture thus concealed itself
  In its own radiance the figure saintly,
  And thus close, close enfolded answered me
In fashion as the following Canto sings.
Paradiso: Canto VI
"After that Constantine the eagle turned
  Against the course of heaven, which it had followed
  Behind the ancient who Lavinia took,
Two hundred years and more the bird of God
  In the extreme of Europe held itself,
  Near to the mountains whence it issued first;
And under shadow of the sacred plumes
  It governed there the world from hand to hand,
  And, changing thus, upon mine own alighted.
Caesar I was, and am Justinian,
  Who, by the will of primal Love I feel,
  Took from the laws the useless and redundant;
And ere unto the work I was attent,
  One nature to exist in Christ, not more,
  Believed, and with such faith was I contented.
But blessed Agapetus, he who was
  The supreme pastor, to the faith sincere
  Pointed me out the way by words of his.
Him I believed, and what was his assertion
  I now see clearly, even as thou seest
  Each contradiction to be false and true.
As soon as with the Church I moved my feet,
  God in his grace it pleased with this high task
  To inspire me, and I gave me wholly to it,
And to my Belisarius I commended
  The arms, to which was heaven's right hand so joined
  It was a signal that I should repose.
Now here to the first question terminates
  My answer; but the character thereof
  Constrains me to continue with a sequel,
In order that thou see with how great reason
  Men move against the standard sacrosanct,
  Both who appropriate and who oppose it.
Behold how great a power has made it worthy
  Of reverence, beginning from the hour
  When Pallas died to give it sovereignty.
Thou knowest it made in Alba its abode
  Three hundred years and upward, till at last
  The three to three fought for it yet again.
Thou knowest what it achieved from Sabine wrong
  Down to Lucretia's sorrow, in seven kings
  O'ercoming round about the neighboring nations;
Thou knowest what it achieved, borne by the Romans
  Illustrious against Brennus, against Pyrrhus,
  Against the other princes and confederates.
Torquatus thence and Quinctius, who from locks
  Unkempt was named, Decii and Fabii,
  Received the fame I willingly embalm;
It struck to earth the pride of the Arabians,
  Who, following Hannibal, had passed across
  The Alpine ridges, Po, from which thou glidest;
Beneath it triumphed while they yet were young
  Pompey and Scipio, and to the hill
  Beneath which thou wast born it bitter seemed;
Then, near unto the time when heaven had willed
  To bring the whole world to its mood serene,
  Did Caesar by the will of Rome assume it.
What it achieved from Var unto the Rhine,
  Isere beheld and Saone, beheld the Seine,
  And every valley whence the Rhone is filled;
What it achieved when it had left Ravenna,
  And leaped the Rubicon, was such a flight
  That neither tongue nor pen could follow it.
Round towards Spain it wheeled its legions; then
  Towards Durazzo, and Pharsalia smote
  That to the calid Nile was felt the pain.
Antandros and the Simois, whence it started,
  It saw again, and there where Hector lies,
  And ill for Ptolemy then roused itself.
From thence it came like lightning upon Juba;
  Then wheeled itself again into your West,
  Where the Pompeian clarion it heard.
From what it wrought with the next standard-bearer
  Brutus and Cassius howl in Hell together,
  And Modena and Perugia dolent were;
Still doth the mournful Cleopatra weep
  Because thereof, who, fleeing from before it,
  Took from the adder sudden and black death.
With him it ran even to the Red Sea shore;
  With him it placed the world in so great peace,
  That unto Janus was his temple closed.
But what the standard that has made me speak
  Achieved before, and after should achieve
  Throughout the mortal realm that lies beneath it,
Becometh in appearance mean and dim,
  If in the hand of the third Caesar seen
  With eye unclouded and affection pure,
Because the living Justice that inspires me
  Granted it, in the hand of him I speak of,
  The glory of doing vengeance for its wrath.
Now here attend to what I answer thee;
  Later it ran with Titus to do vengeance
  Upon the vengeance of the ancient sin.
And when the tooth of Lombardy had bitten
  The Holy Church, then underneath its wings
  Did Charlemagne victorious succor her.
Now hast thou power to judge of such as those
  Whom I accused above, and of their crimes,
  Which are the cause of all your miseries.
To the public standard one the yellow lilies
  Opposes, the other claims it for a party,
  So that 'tis hard to see which sins the most.
Let, let the Ghibellines ply their handicraft
  Beneath some other standard; for this ever
  Ill follows he who it and justice parts.
And let not this new Charles e'er strike it down,
  He and his Guelfs, but let him fear the talons
  That from a nobler lion stripped the fell.
Already oftentimes the sons have wept
  The father's crime; and let him not believe
  That God will change His scutcheon for the lilies.
This little planet doth adorn itself
  With the good spirits that have active been,
  That fame and honour might come after them;
And whensoever the desires mount thither,
  Thus deviating, must perforce the rays
  Of the true love less vividly mount upward.
But in commensuration of our wages
  With our desert is portion of our joy,
  Because we see them neither less nor greater.
Herein doth living Justice sweeten so
  Affection in us, that for evermore
  It cannot warp to any iniquity.
Voices diverse make up sweet melodies;
  So in this life of ours the seats diverse
  Render sweet harmony among these spheres;
And in the compass of this present pearl
  Shineth the sheen of Romeo, of whom
  The grand and beauteous work was ill rewarded.
But the Provencals who against him wrought,
  They have not laughed, and therefore ill goes he
  Who makes his hurt of the good deeds of others.
Four daughters, and each one of them a queen,
  Had Raymond Berenger, and this for him
  Did Romeo, a poor man and a pilgrim;
And then malicious words incited him
  To summon to a reckoning this just man,
  Who rendered to him seven and five for ten.
Then he departed poor and stricken in years,
  And if the world could know the heart he had,
  In begging bit by bit his livelihood,
Though much it laud him, it would laud him more."
Paradiso: Canto VII
"Osanna sanctus Deus Sabaoth,
  Superillustrans claritate tua
  Felices ignes horum malahoth!"
In this wise, to his melody returning,
  This substance, upon which a double light
  Doubles itself, was seen by me to sing,
And to their dance this and the others moved,
  And in the manner of swift-hurrying sparks
  Veiled themselves from me with a sudden distance.
Doubting was I, and saying, "Tell her, tell her,"
  Within me, "tell her," saying, "tell my Lady,"
  Who slakes my thirst with her sweet effluences;
And yet that reverence which doth lord it over
  The whole of me only by B and ICE,
  Bowed me again like unto one who drowses.
Short while did Beatrice endure me thus;
  And she began, lighting me with a smile
  Such as would make one happy in the fire:
"According to infallible advisement,
  After what manner a just vengeance justly
  Could be avenged has put thee upon thinking,
But I will speedily thy mind unloose;
  And do thou listen, for these words of mine
  Of a great doctrine will a present make thee.
By not enduring on the power that wills
  Curb for his good, that man who ne'er was born,
  Damning himself damned all his progeny;
Whereby the human species down below
  Lay sick for many centuries in great error,
  Till to descend it pleased the Word of God
To where the nature, which from its own Maker
  Estranged itself, he joined to him in person
  By the sole act of his eternal love.
Now unto what is said direct thy sight;
  This nature when united to its Maker,
  Such as created, was sincere and good;
But by itself alone was banished forth
  From Paradise, because it turned aside
  Out of the way of truth and of its life.
Therefore the penalty the cross held out,
  If measured by the nature thus assumed,
  None ever yet with so great justice stung,
And none was ever of so great injustice,
  Considering who the Person was that suffered,
  Within whom such a nature was contracted.
From one act therefore issued things diverse;
  To God and to the Jews one death was pleasing;
  Earth trembled at it and the Heaven was opened.
It should no longer now seem difficult
  To thee, when it is said that a just vengeance
  By a just court was afterward avenged.
But now do I behold thy mind entangled
  From thought to thought within a knot, from which
  With great desire it waits to free itself.
Thou sayest, 'Well discern I what I hear;
  But it is hidden from me why God willed
  For our redemption only this one mode.'
Buried remaineth, brother, this decree
  Unto the eyes of every one whose nature
  Is in the flame of love not yet adult.
Verily, inasmuch as at this mark
  One gazes long and little is discerned,
  Wherefore this mode was worthiest will I say.
Goodness Divine, which from itself doth spurn
  All envy, burning in itself so sparkles
  That the eternal beauties it unfolds.
Whate'er from this immediately distils
  Has afterwards no end, for ne'er removed
  Is its impression when it sets its seal.
Whate'er from this immediately rains down
  Is wholly free, because it is not subject
  Unto the influences of novel things.
The more conformed thereto, the more it pleases;
  For the blest ardour that irradiates all things
  In that most like itself is most vivacious.
With all of these things has advantaged been
  The human creature; and if one be wanting,
  From his nobility he needs must fall.
'Tis sin alone which doth disfranchise him,
  And render him unlike the Good Supreme,
  So that he little with its light is blanched,
And to his dignity no more returns,
  Unless he fill up where transgression empties
  With righteous pains for criminal delights.
Your nature when it sinned so utterly
  In its own seed, out of these dignities
  Even as out of Paradise was driven,
Nor could itself recover, if thou notest
  With nicest subtilty, by any way,
  Except by passing one of these two fords:
Either that God through clemency alone
  Had pardon granted, or that man himself
  Had satisfaction for his folly made.
Fix now thine eye deep into the abyss
  Of the eternal counsel, to my speech
  As far as may be fastened steadfastly!
Man in his limitations had not power
  To satisfy, not having power to sink
  In his humility obeying then,
Far as he disobeying thought to rise;
  And for this reason man has been from power
  Of satisfying by himself excluded.
Therefore it God behoved in his own ways
  Man to restore unto his perfect life,
  I say in one, or else in both of them.
But since the action of the doer is
  So much more grateful, as it more presents
  The goodness of the heart from which it issues,
Goodness Divine, that doth imprint the world,
  Has been contented to proceed by each
  And all its ways to lift you up again;
Nor 'twixt the first day and the final night
  Such high and such magnificent proceeding
  By one or by the other was or shall be;
For God more bounteous was himself to give
  To make man able to uplift himself,
  Than if he only of himself had pardoned;
And all the other modes were insufficient
  For justice, were it not the Son of God
  Himself had humbled to become incarnate.
Now, to fill fully each desire of thine,
  Return I to elucidate one place,
  In order that thou there mayst see as I do.
Thou sayst: 'I see the air, I see the fire,
  The water, and the earth, and all their mixtures
  Come to corruption, and short while endure;
And these things notwithstanding were created;'
  Therefore if that which I have said were true,
  They should have been secure against corruption.
The Angels, brother, and the land sincere
  In which thou art, created may be called
  Just as they are in their entire existence;
But all the elements which thou hast named,
  And all those things which out of them are made,
  By a created virtue are informed.
Created was the matter which they have;
  Created was the informing influence
  Within these stars that round about them go.
The soul of every brute and of the plants
  By its potential temperament attracts
  The ray and motion of the holy lights;
But your own life immediately inspires
  Supreme Beneficence, and enamours it
  So with herself, it evermore desires her.
And thou from this mayst argue furthermore
  Your resurrection, if thou think again
  How human flesh was fashioned at that time
When the first parents both of them were made."
Paradiso: Canto VIII
The world used in its peril to believe
  That the fair Cypria delirious love
  Rayed out, in the third epicycle turning;
Wherefore not only unto her paid honour
  Of sacrifices and of votive cry
  The ancient nations in the ancient error,
But both Dione honoured they and Cupid,
  That as her mother, this one as her son,
  And said that he had sat in Dido's lap;
And they from her, whence I beginning take,
  Took the denomination of the star
  That woos the sun, now following, now in front.
I was not ware of our ascending to it;
  But of our being in it gave full faith
  My Lady whom I saw more beauteous grow.
And as within a flame a spark is seen,
  And as within a voice a voice discerned,
  When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes,
Within that light beheld I other lamps
  Move in a circle, speeding more and less,
  Methinks in measure of their inward vision.
From a cold cloud descended never winds,
  Or visible or not, so rapidly
  They would not laggard and impeded seem
To any one who had those lights divine
  Seen come towards us, leaving the gyration
  Begun at first in the high Seraphim.
And behind those that most in front appeared
  Sounded "Osanna!" so that never since
  To hear again was I without desire.
Then unto us more nearly one approached,
  And it alone began: "We all are ready
  Unto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.
We turn around with the celestial Princes,
  One gyre and one gyration and one thirst,
  To whom thou in the world of old didst say,
'Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;'
  And are so full of love, to pleasure thee
  A little quiet will not be less sweet."
After these eyes of mine themselves had offered
  Unto my Lady reverently, and she
  Content and certain of herself had made them,
Back to the light they turned, which so great promise
  Made of itself, and "Say, who art thou?" was
  My voice, imprinted with a great affection.
O how and how much I beheld it grow
  With the new joy that superadded was
  Unto its joys, as soon as I had spoken!
Thus changed, it said to me: "The world possessed me
  Short time below; and, if it had been more,
  Much evil will be which would not have been.
My gladness keepeth me concealed from thee,
  Which rayeth round about me, and doth hide me
  Like as a creature swathed in its own silk.
Much didst thou love me, and thou hadst good reason;
  For had I been below, I should have shown thee
  Somewhat beyond the foliage of my love.
That left-hand margin, which doth bathe itself
  In Rhone, when it is mingled with the Sorgue,
  Me for its lord awaited in due time,
And that horn of Ausonia, which is towned
  With Bari, with Gaeta and Catona,
  Whence Tronto and Verde in the sea disgorge.
Already flashed upon my brow the crown
  Of that dominion which the Danube waters
  After the German borders it abandons;
And beautiful Trinacria, that is murky
  'Twixt Pachino and Peloro, (on the gulf
  Which greatest scath from Eurus doth receive,)
Not through Typhoeus, but through nascent sulphur,
  Would have awaited her own monarchs still,
  Through me from Charles descended and from Rudolph,
If evil lordship, that exasperates ever
  The subject populations, had not moved
  Palermo to the outcry of 'Death! death!'
And if my brother could but this foresee,
  The greedy poverty of Catalonia
  Straight would he flee, that it might not molest him;
For verily 'tis needful to provide,
  Through him or other, so that on his bark
  Already freighted no more freight be placed.
His nature, which from liberal covetous
  Descended, such a soldiery would need
  As should not care for hoarding in a chest."
"Because I do believe the lofty joy
  Thy speech infuses into me, my Lord,
  Where every good thing doth begin and end
Thou seest as I see it, the more grateful
  Is it to me; and this too hold I dear,
  That gazing upon God thou dost discern it.
Glad hast thou made me; so make clear to me,
  Since speaking thou hast stirred me up to doubt,
  How from sweet seed can bitter issue forth."
This I to him; and he to me: "If I
  Can show to thee a truth, to what thou askest
  Thy face thou'lt hold as thou dost hold thy back.
The Good which all the realm thou art ascending
  Turns and contents, maketh its providence
  To be a power within these bodies vast;
And not alone the natures are foreseen
  Within the mind that in itself is perfect,
  But they together with their preservation.
For whatsoever thing this bow shoots forth
  Falls foreordained unto an end foreseen,
  Even as a shaft directed to its mark.
If that were not, the heaven which thou dost walk
  Would in such manner its effects produce,
  That they no longer would be arts, but ruins.
This cannot be, if the Intelligences
  That keep these stars in motion are not maimed,
  And maimed the First that has not made them perfect.
Wilt thou this truth have clearer made to thee?"
  And I: "Not so; for 'tis impossible
  That nature tire, I see, in what is needful."
Whence he again: "Now say, would it be worse
  For men on earth were they not citizens?"
  "Yes," I replied; "and here I ask no reason."
"And can they be so, if below they live not
  Diversely unto offices diverse?
  No, if your master writeth well for you."
So came he with deductions to this point;
  Then he concluded: "Therefore it behoves
  The roots of your effects to be diverse.
Hence one is Solon born, another Xerxes,
  Another Melchisedec, and another he
  Who, flying through the air, his son did lose.
Revolving Nature, which a signet is
  To mortal wax, doth practise well her art,
  But not one inn distinguish from another;
Thence happens it that Esau differeth
  In seed from Jacob; and Quirinus comes
  From sire so vile that he is given to Mars.
A generated nature its own way
  Would always make like its progenitors,
  If Providence divine were not triumphant.
Now that which was behind thee is before thee;
  But that thou know that I with thee am pleased,
  With a corollary will I mantle thee.
Evermore nature, if it fortune find
  Discordant to it, like each other seed
  Out of its region, maketh evil thrift;
And if the world below would fix its mind
  On the foundation which is laid by nature,
  Pursuing that, 'twould have the people good.
But you unto religion wrench aside
  Him who was born to gird him with the sword,
  And make a king of him who is for sermons;
Therefore your footsteps wander from the road."
Paradiso: Canto IX
Beautiful Clemence, after that thy Charles
  Had me enlightened, he narrated to me
  The treacheries his seed should undergo;
But said: "Be still and let the years roll round;"
  So I can only say, that lamentation
  Legitimate shall follow on your wrongs.
And of that holy light the life already
  Had to the Sun which fills it turned again,
  As to that good which for each thing sufficeth.
Ah, souls deceived, and creatures impious,
  Who from such good do turn away your hearts,
  Directing upon vanity your foreheads!
And now, behold, another of those splendours
  Approached me, and its will to pleasure me
  It signified by brightening outwardly.
The eyes of Beatrice, that fastened were
  Upon me, as before, of dear assent
  To my desire assurance gave to me.
"Ah, bring swift compensation to my wish,
  Thou blessed spirit," I said, "and give me proof
  That what I think in thee I can reflect!"
Whereat the light, that still was new to me,
  Out of its depths, whence it before was singing,
  As one delighted to do good, continued:
"Within that region of the land depraved
  Of Italy, that lies between Rialto
  And fountain-heads of Brenta and of Piava,
Rises a hill, and mounts not very high,
  Wherefrom descended formerly a torch
  That made upon that region great assault.
Out of one root were born both I and it;
  Cunizza was I called, and here I shine
  Because the splendour of this star o'ercame me.
But gladly to myself the cause I pardon
  Of my allotment, and it does not grieve me;
  Which would perhaps seem strong unto your vulgar.
Of this so luculent and precious jewel,
  Which of our heaven is nearest unto me,
  Great fame remained; and ere it die away
This hundredth year shall yet quintupled be.
  See if man ought to make him excellent,
  So that another life the first may leave!
And thus thinks not the present multitude
  Shut in by Adige and Tagliamento,
  Nor yet for being scourged is penitent.
But soon 'twill be that Padua in the marsh
  Will change the water that Vicenza bathes,
  Because the folk are stubborn against duty;
And where the Sile and Cagnano join
  One lordeth it, and goes with lofty head,
  For catching whom e'en now the net is making.
Feltro moreover of her impious pastor
  Shall weep the crime, which shall so monstrous be
  That for the like none ever entered Malta.
Ample exceedingly would be the vat
  That of the Ferrarese could hold the blood,
  And weary who should weigh it ounce by ounce,
Of which this courteous priest shall make a gift
  To show himself a partisan; and such gifts
  Will to the living of the land conform.
Above us there are mirrors, Thrones you call them,
  From which shines out on us God Judicant,
  So that this utterance seems good to us."
Here it was silent, and it had the semblance
  Of being turned elsewhither, by the wheel
  On which it entered as it was before.
The other joy, already known to me,
  Became a thing transplendent in my sight,
  As a fine ruby smitten by the sun.
Through joy effulgence is acquired above,
  As here a smile; but down below, the shade
  Outwardly darkens, as the mind is sad.
"God seeth all things, and in Him, blest spirit,
  Thy sight is," said I, "so that never will
  Of his can possibly from thee be hidden;
Thy voice, then, that for ever makes the heavens
  Glad, with the singing of those holy fires
  Which of their six wings make themselves a cowl,
Wherefore does it not satisfy my longings?
  Indeed, I would not wait thy questioning
  If I in thee were as thou art in me."
"The greatest of the valleys where the water
  Expands itself," forthwith its words began,
  "That sea excepted which the earth engarlands,
Between discordant shores against the sun
  Extends so far, that it meridian makes
  Where it was wont before to make the horizon.
I was a dweller on that valley's shore
  'Twixt Ebro and Magra that with journey short
  Doth from the Tuscan part the Genoese.
With the same sunset and same sunrise nearly
  Sit Buggia and the city whence I was,
  That with its blood once made the harbour hot.
Folco that people called me unto whom
  My name was known; and now with me this heaven
  Imprints itself, as I did once with it;
For more the daughter of Belus never burned,
  Offending both Sichaeus and Creusa,
  Than I, so long as it became my locks,
Nor yet that Rodophean, who deluded
  was by Demophoon, nor yet Alcides,
  When Iole he in his heart had locked.
Yet here is no repenting, but we smile,
  Not at the fault, which comes not back to mind,
  But at the power which ordered and foresaw.
Here we behold the art that doth adorn
  With such affection, and the good discover
  Whereby the world above turns that below.
But that thou wholly satisfied mayst bear
  Thy wishes hence which in this sphere are born,
  Still farther to proceed behoveth me.
Thou fain wouldst know who is within this light
  That here beside me thus is scintillating,
  Even as a sunbeam in the limpid water.
Then know thou, that within there is at rest
  Rahab, and being to our order joined,
  With her in its supremest grade 'tis sealed.
Into this heaven, where ends the shadowy cone
  Cast by your world, before all other souls
  First of Christ's triumph was she taken up.
Full meet it was to leave her in some heaven,
  Even as a palm of the high victory
  Which he acquired with one palm and the other,
Because she favoured the first glorious deed
  Of Joshua upon the Holy Land,
  That little stirs the memory of the Pope.
Thy city, which an offshoot is of him
  Who first upon his Maker turned his back,
  And whose ambition is so sorely wept,
Brings forth and scatters the accursed flower
  Which both the sheep and lambs hath led astray
  Since it has turned the shepherd to a wolf.
For this the Evangel and the mighty Doctors
  Are derelict, and only the Decretals
  So studied that it shows upon their margins.
On this are Pope and Cardinals intent;
  Their meditations reach not Nazareth,
  There where his pinions Gabriel unfolded;
But Vatican and the other parts elect
  Of Rome, which have a cemetery been
  Unto the soldiery that followed Peter
Shall soon be free from this adultery."
Paradiso: Canto X
Looking into his Son with all the Love
  Which each of them eternally breathes forth,
  The Primal and unutterable Power
Whate'er before the mind or eye revolves
  With so much order made, there can be none
  Who this beholds without enjoying Him.
Lift up then, Reader, to the lofty wheels
  With me thy vision straight unto that part
  Where the one motion on the other strikes,
And there begin to contemplate with joy
  That Master's art, who in himself so loves it
  That never doth his eye depart therefrom.
Behold how from that point goes branching off
  The oblique circle, which conveys the planets,
  To satisfy the world that calls upon them;
And if their pathway were not thus inflected,
  Much virtue in the heavens would be in vain,
  And almost every power below here dead.
If from the straight line distant more or less
  Were the departure, much would wanting be
  Above and underneath of mundane order.
Remain now, Reader, still upon thy bench,
  In thought pursuing that which is foretasted,
  If thou wouldst jocund be instead of weary.
I've set before thee; henceforth feed thyself,
  For to itself diverteth all my care
  That theme whereof I have been made the scribe.
The greatest of the ministers of nature,
  Who with the power of heaven the world imprints
  And measures with his light the time for us,
With that part which above is called to mind
  Conjoined, along the spirals was revolving,
  Where each time earlier he presents himself;
And I was with him; but of the ascending
  I was not conscious, saving as a man
  Of a first thought is conscious ere it come;
And Beatrice, she who is seen to pass
  From good to better, and so suddenly
  That not by time her action is expressed,
How lucent in herself must she have been!
  And what was in the sun, wherein I entered,
  Apparent not by colour but by light,
I, though I call on genius, art, and practice,
  Cannot so tell that it could be imagined;
  Believe one can, and let him long to see it.
And if our fantasies too lowly are
  For altitude so great, it is no marvel,
  Since o'er the sun was never eye could go.
Such in this place was the fourth family
  Of the high Father, who forever sates it,
  Showing how he breathes forth and how begets.
And Beatrice began: "Give thanks, give thanks
  Unto the Sun of Angels, who to this
  Sensible one has raised thee by his grace!"
Never was heart of mortal so disposed
  To worship, nor to give itself to God
  With all its gratitude was it so ready,
As at those words did I myself become;
  And all my love was so absorbed in Him,
  That in oblivion Beatrice was eclipsed.
Nor this displeased her; but she smiled at it
  So that the splendour of her laughing eyes
  My single mind on many things divided.
Lights many saw I, vivid and triumphant,
  Make us a centre and themselves a circle,
  More sweet in voice than luminous in aspect.
Thus girt about the daughter of Latona
  We sometimes see, when pregnant is the air,
  So that it holds the thread which makes her zone.
Within the court of Heaven, whence I return,
  Are many jewels found, so fair and precious
  They cannot be transported from the realm;
And of them was the singing of those lights.
  Who takes not wings that he may fly up thither,
  The tidings thence may from the dumb await!
As soon as singing thus those burning suns
  Had round about us whirled themselves three times,
  Like unto stars neighbouring the steadfast poles,
Ladies they seemed, not from the dance released,
  But who stop short, in silence listening
  Till they have gathered the new melody.
And within one I heard beginning: "When
  The radiance of grace, by which is kindled
  True love, and which thereafter grows by loving,
Within thee multiplied is so resplendent
  That it conducts thee upward by that stair,
  Where without reascending none descends,
Who should deny the wine out of his vial
  Unto thy thirst, in liberty were not
  Except as water which descends not seaward.
Fain wouldst thou know with what plants is enflowered
  This garland that encircles with delight
  The Lady fair who makes thee strong for heaven.
Of the lambs was I of the holy flock
  Which Dominic conducteth by a road
  Where well one fattens if he strayeth not.
He who is nearest to me on the right
  My brother and master was; and he Albertus
  Is of Cologne, I Thomas of Aquinum.
If thou of all the others wouldst be certain,
  Follow behind my speaking with thy sight
  Upward along the blessed garland turning.
That next effulgence issues from the smile
  Of Gratian, who assisted both the courts
  In such wise that it pleased in Paradise.
The other which near by adorns our choir
  That Peter was who, e'en as the poor widow,
  Offered his treasure unto Holy Church.
The fifth light, that among us is the fairest,
  Breathes forth from such a love, that all the world
  Below is greedy to learn tidings of it.
Within it is the lofty mind, where knowledge
  So deep was put, that, if the true be true,
  To see so much there never rose a second.
Thou seest next the lustre of that taper,
  Which in the flesh below looked most within
  The angelic nature and its ministry.
Within that other little light is smiling
  The advocate of the Christian centuries,
  Out of whose rhetoric Augustine was furnished.
Now if thou trainest thy mind's eye along
  From light to light pursuant of my praise,
  With thirst already of the eighth thou waitest.
By seeing every good therein exults
  The sainted soul, which the fallacious world
  Makes manifest to him who listeneth well;
The body whence 'twas hunted forth is lying
  Down in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom
  And banishment it came unto this peace.
See farther onward flame the burning breath
  Of Isidore, of Beda, and of Richard
  Who was in contemplation more than man.
This, whence to me returneth thy regard,
  The light is of a spirit unto whom
  In his grave meditations death seemed slow.
It is the light eternal of Sigier,
  Who, reading lectures in the Street of Straw,
  Did syllogize invidious verities."
Then, as a horologe that calleth us
  What time the Bride of God is rising up
  With matins to her Spouse that he may love her,
Wherein one part the other draws and urges,
  Ting! ting! resounding with so sweet a note,
  That swells with love the spirit well disposed,
Thus I beheld the glorious wheel move round,
  And render voice to voice, in modulation
  And sweetness that can not be comprehended,
Excepting there where joy is made eternal.
Paradiso: Canto XI
O Thou insensate care of mortal men,
  How inconclusive are the syllogisms
  That make thee beat thy wings in downward flight!
One after laws and one to aphorisms
  Was going, and one following the priesthood,
  And one to reign by force or sophistry,
And one in theft, and one in state affairs,
  One in the pleasures of the flesh involved
  Wearied himself, one gave himself to ease;
When I, from all these things emancipate,
  With Beatrice above there in the Heavens
  With such exceeding glory was received!
When each one had returned unto that point
  Within the circle where it was before,
  It stood as in a candlestick a candle;
And from within the effulgence which at first
  Had spoken unto me, I heard begin
  Smiling while it more luminous became:
"Even as I am kindled in its ray,
  So, looking into the Eternal Light,
  The occasion of thy thoughts I apprehend.
Thou doubtest, and wouldst have me to resift
  In language so extended and so open
  My speech, that to thy sense it may be plain,
Where just before I said, 'where well one fattens,'
  And where I said, 'there never rose a second;'
  And here 'tis needful we distinguish well.
The Providence, which governeth the world
  With counsel, wherein all created vision
  Is vanquished ere it reach unto the bottom,
(So that towards her own Beloved might go
  The bride of Him who, uttering a loud cry,
  Espoused her with his consecrated blood,
Self-confident and unto Him more faithful,)
  Two Princes did ordain in her behoof,
  Which on this side and that might be her guide.
The one was all seraphical in ardour;
  The other by his wisdom upon earth
  A splendour was of light cherubical.
One will I speak of, for of both is spoken
  In praising one, whichever may be taken,
  Because unto one end their labours were.
Between Tupino and the stream that falls
  Down from the hill elect of blessed Ubald,
  A fertile slope of lofty mountain hangs,
From which Perugia feels the cold and heat
  Through Porta Sole, and behind it weep
  Gualdo and Nocera their grievous yoke.
From out that slope, there where it breaketh most
  Its steepness, rose upon the world a sun
  As this one does sometimes from out the Ganges;
Therefore let him who speaketh of that place,
  Say not Ascesi, for he would say little,
  But Orient, if he properly would speak.
He was not yet far distant from his rising
  Before he had begun to make the earth
  Some comfort from his mighty virtue feel.
For he in youth his father's wrath incurred
  For certain Dame, to whom, as unto death,
  The gate of pleasure no one doth unlock;
And was before his spiritual court
  'Et coram patre' unto her united;
  Then day by day more fervently he loved her.
She, reft of her first husband, scorned, obscure,
  One thousand and one hundred years and more,
  Waited without a suitor till he came.
Naught it availed to hear, that with Amyclas
  Found her unmoved at sounding of his voice
  He who struck terror into all the world;
Naught it availed being constant and undaunted,
  So that, when Mary still remained below,
  She mounted up with Christ upon the cross.
But that too darkly I may not proceed,
  Francis and Poverty for these two lovers
  Take thou henceforward in my speech diffuse.
Their concord and their joyous semblances,
  The love, the wonder, and the sweet regard,
  They made to be the cause of holy thoughts;
So much so that the venerable Bernard
  First bared his feet, and after so great peace
  Ran, and, in running, thought himself too slow.
O wealth unknown!  O veritable good!
  Giles bares his feet, and bares his feet Sylvester
  Behind the bridegroom, so doth please the bride!
Then goes his way that father and that master,
  He and his Lady and that family
  Which now was girding on the humble cord;
Nor cowardice of heart weighed down his brow
  At being son of Peter Bernardone,
  Nor for appearing marvellously scorned;
But regally his hard determination
  To Innocent he opened, and from him
  Received the primal seal upon his Order.
After the people mendicant increased
  Behind this man, whose admirable life
  Better in glory of the heavens were sung,
Incoronated with a second crown
  Was through Honorius by the Eternal Spirit
  The holy purpose of this Archimandrite.
And when he had, through thirst of martyrdom,
  In the proud presence of the Sultan preached
  Christ and the others who came after him,
And, finding for conversion too unripe
  The folk, and not to tarry there in vain,
  Returned to fruit of the Italic grass,
On the rude rock 'twixt Tiber and the Arno
  From Christ did he receive the final seal,
  Which during two whole years his members bore.
When He, who chose him unto so much good,
  Was pleased to draw him up to the reward
  That he had merited by being lowly,
Unto his friars, as to the rightful heirs,
  His most dear Lady did he recommend,
  And bade that they should love her faithfully;
And from her bosom the illustrious soul
  Wished to depart, returning to its realm,
  And for its body wished no other bier.
Think now what man was he, who was a fit
  Companion over the high seas to keep
  The bark of Peter to its proper bearings.
And this man was our Patriarch; hence whoever
  Doth follow him as he commands can see
  That he is laden with good merchandise.
But for new pasturage his flock has grown
  So greedy, that it is impossible
  They be not scattered over fields diverse;
And in proportion as his sheep remote
  And vagabond go farther off from him,
  More void of milk return they to the fold.
Verily some there are that fear a hurt,
  And keep close to the shepherd; but so few,
  That little cloth doth furnish forth their hoods.
Now if my utterance be not indistinct,
  If thine own hearing hath attentive been,
  If thou recall to mind what I have said,
In part contented shall thy wishes be;
  For thou shalt see the plant that's chipped away,
  And the rebuke that lieth in the words,
'Where well one fattens, if he strayeth not.'"
Paradiso: Canto XII
Soon as the blessed flame had taken up
  The final word to give it utterance,
  Began the holy millstone to revolve,
And in its gyre had not turned wholly round,
  Before another in a ring enclosed it,
  And motion joined to motion, song to song;
Song that as greatly doth transcend our Muses,
  Our Sirens, in those dulcet clarions,
  As primal splendour that which is reflected.
And as are spanned athwart a tender cloud
  Two rainbows parallel and like in colour,
  When Juno to her handmaid gives command,
(The one without born of the one within,
  Like to the speaking of that vagrant one
  Whom love consumed as doth the sun the vapours,)
And make the people here, through covenant
  God set with Noah, presageful of the world
  That shall no more be covered with a flood,
In such wise of those sempiternal roses
  The garlands twain encompassed us about,
  And thus the outer to the inner answered.
After the dance, and other grand rejoicings,
  Both of the singing, and the flaming forth
  Effulgence with effulgence blithe and tender,
Together, at once, with one accord had stopped,
  (Even as the eyes, that, as volition moves them,
  Must needs together shut and lift themselves,)
Out of the heart of one of the new lights
  There came a voice, that needle to the star
  Made me appear in turning thitherward.
And it began: "The love that makes me fair
  Draws me to speak about the other leader,
  By whom so well is spoken here of mine.
'Tis right, where one is, to bring in the other,
  That, as they were united in their warfare,
  Together likewise may their glory shine.
The soldiery of Christ, which it had cost
  So dear to arm again, behind the standard
  Moved slow and doubtful and in numbers few,
When the Emperor who reigneth evermore
  Provided for the host that was in peril,
  Through grace alone and not that it was worthy;
And, as was said, he to his Bride brought succour
  With champions twain, at whose deed, at whose word
  The straggling people were together drawn.
Within that region where the sweet west wind
  Rises to open the new leaves, wherewith
  Europe is seen to clothe herself afresh,
Not far off from the beating of the waves,
  Behind which in his long career the sun
  Sometimes conceals himself from every man,
Is situate the fortunate Calahorra,
  Under protection of the mighty shield
  In which the Lion subject is and sovereign.
Therein was born the amorous paramour
  Of Christian Faith, the athlete consecrate,
  Kind to his own and cruel to his foes;
And when it was created was his mind
  Replete with such a living energy,
  That in his mother her it made prophetic.
As soon as the espousals were complete
  Between him and the Faith at holy font,
  Where they with mutual safety dowered each other,
The woman, who for him had given assent,
  Saw in a dream the admirable fruit
  That issue would from him and from his heirs;
And that he might be construed as he was,
  A spirit from this place went forth to name him
  With His possessive whose he wholly was.
Dominic was he called; and him I speak of
  Even as of the husbandman whom Christ
  Elected to his garden to assist him.
Envoy and servant sooth he seemed of Christ,
  For the first love made manifest in him
  Was the first counsel that was given by Christ.
Silent and wakeful many a time was he
  Discovered by his nurse upon the ground,
  As if he would have said, 'For this I came.'
O thou his father, Felix verily!
  O thou his mother, verily Joanna,
  If this, interpreted, means as is said!
Not for the world which people toil for now
  In following Ostiense and Taddeo,
  But through his longing after the true manna,
He in short time became so great a teacher,
  That he began to go about the vineyard,
  Which fadeth soon, if faithless be the dresser;
And of the See, (that once was more benignant
  Unto the righteous poor, not through itself,
  But him who sits there and degenerates,)
Not to dispense or two or three for six,
  Not any fortune of first vacancy,
  'Non decimas quae sunt pauperum Dei,'
He asked for, but against the errant world
  Permission to do battle for the seed,
  Of which these four and twenty plants surround thee.
Then with the doctrine and the will together,
  With office apostolical he moved,
  Like torrent which some lofty vein out-presses;
And in among the shoots heretical
  His impetus with greater fury smote,
  Wherever the resistance was the greatest.
Of him were made thereafter divers runnels,
  Whereby the garden catholic is watered,
  So that more living its plantations stand.
If such the one wheel of the Biga was,
  In which the Holy Church itself defended
  And in the field its civic battle won,
Truly full manifest should be to thee
  The excellence of the other, unto whom
  Thomas so courteous was before my coming.
But still the orbit, which the highest part
  Of its circumference made, is derelict,
  So that the mould is where was once the crust.
His family, that had straight forward moved
  With feet upon his footprints, are turned round
  So that they set the point upon the heel.
And soon aware they will be of the harvest
  Of this bad husbandry, when shall the tares
  Complain the granary is taken from them.
Yet say I, he who searcheth leaf by leaf
  Our volume through, would still some page discover
  Where he could read, 'I am as I am wont.'
'Twill not be from Casal nor Acquasparta,
  From whence come such unto the written word
  That one avoids it, and the other narrows.
Bonaventura of Bagnoregio's life
  Am I, who always in great offices
  Postponed considerations sinister.
Here are Illuminato and Agostino,
  Who of the first barefooted beggars were
  That with the cord the friends of God became.
Hugh of Saint Victor is among them here,
  And Peter Mangiador, and Peter of Spain,
  Who down below in volumes twelve is shining;
Nathan the seer, and metropolitan
  Chrysostom, and Anselmus, and Donatus
  Who deigned to lay his hand to the first art;
Here is Rabanus, and beside me here
  Shines the Calabrian Abbot Joachim,
  He with the spirit of prophecy endowed.
To celebrate so great a paladin
  Have moved me the impassioned courtesy
  And the discreet discourses of Friar Thomas,
And with me they have moved this company."
Paradiso: Canto XIII
Let him imagine, who would well conceive
  What now I saw, and let him while I speak
  Retain the image as a steadfast rock,
The fifteen stars, that in their divers regions
  The sky enliven with a light so great
  That it transcends all clusters of the air;
Let him the Wain imagine unto which
  Our vault of heaven sufficeth night and day,
  So that in turning of its pole it fails not;
Let him the mouth imagine of the horn
  That in the point beginneth of the axis
  Round about which the primal wheel revolves,--
To have fashioned of themselves two signs in heaven,
  Like unto that which Minos' daughter made,
  The moment when she felt the frost of death;
And one to have its rays within the other,
  And both to whirl themselves in such a manner
  That one should forward go, the other backward;
And he will have some shadowing forth of that
  True constellation and the double dance
  That circled round the point at which I was;
Because it is as much beyond our wont,
  As swifter than the motion of the Chiana
  Moveth the heaven that all the rest outspeeds.
There sang they neither Bacchus, nor Apollo,
  But in the divine nature Persons three,
  And in one person the divine and human.
The singing and the dance fulfilled their measure,
  And unto us those holy lights gave need,
  Growing in happiness from care to care.
Then broke the silence of those saints concordant
  The light in which the admirable life
  Of God's own mendicant was told to me,
And said: "Now that one straw is trodden out
  Now that its seed is garnered up already,
  Sweet love invites me to thresh out the other.
Into that bosom, thou believest, whence
  Was drawn the rib to form the beauteous cheek
  Whose taste to all the world is costing dear,
And into that which, by the lance transfixed,
  Before and since, such satisfaction made
  That it weighs down the balance of all sin,
Whate'er of light it has to human nature
  Been lawful to possess was all infused
  By the same power that both of them created;
And hence at what I said above dost wonder,
  When I narrated that no second had
  The good which in the fifth light is enclosed.
Now ope thine eyes to what I answer thee,
  And thou shalt see thy creed and my discourse
  Fit in the truth as centre in a circle.
That which can die, and that which dieth not,
  Are nothing but the splendour of the idea
  Which by his love our Lord brings into being;
Because that living Light, which from its fount
  Effulgent flows, so that it disunites not
  From Him nor from the Love in them intrined,
Through its own goodness reunites its rays
  In nine subsistences, as in a mirror,
  Itself eternally remaining One.
Thence it descends to the last potencies,
  Downward from act to act becoming such
  That only brief contingencies it makes;
And these contingencies I hold to be
  Things generated, which the heaven produces
  By its own motion, with seed and without.
Neither their wax, nor that which tempers it,
  Remains immutable, and hence beneath
  The ideal signet more and less shines through;
Therefore it happens, that the selfsame tree
  After its kind bears worse and better fruit,
  And ye are born with characters diverse.
If in perfection tempered were the wax,
  And were the heaven in its supremest virtue,
  The brilliance of the seal would all appear;
But nature gives it evermore deficient,
  In the like manner working as the artist,
  Who has the skill of art and hand that trembles.
If then the fervent Love, the Vision clear,
  Of primal Virtue do dispose and seal,
  Perfection absolute is there acquired.
Thus was of old the earth created worthy
  Of all and every animal perfection;
  And thus the Virgin was impregnate made;
So that thine own opinion I commend,
  That human nature never yet has been,
  Nor will be, what it was in those two persons.
Now if no farther forth I should proceed,
  'Then in what way was he without a peer?'
  Would be the first beginning of thy words.
But, that may well appear what now appears not,
  Think who he was, and what occasion moved him
  To make request, when it was told him, 'Ask.'
I've not so spoken that thou canst not see
  Clearly he was a king who asked for wisdom,
  That he might be sufficiently a king;
'Twas not to know the number in which are
  The motors here above, or if 'necesse'
  With a contingent e'er 'necesse' make,
'Non si est dare primum motum esse,'
  Or if in semicircle can be made
  Triangle so that it have no right angle.
Whence, if thou notest this and what I said,
  A regal prudence is that peerless seeing
  In which the shaft of my intention strikes.
And if on 'rose' thou turnest thy clear eyes,
  Thou'lt see that it has reference alone
  To kings who're many, and the good are rare.
With this distinction take thou what I said,
  And thus it can consist with thy belief
  Of the first father and of our Delight.
And lead shall this be always to thy feet,
  To make thee, like a weary man, move slowly
  Both to the Yes and No thou seest not;
For very low among the fools is he
  Who affirms without distinction, or denies,
  As well in one as in the other case;
Because it happens that full often bends
  Current opinion in the false direction,
  And then the feelings bind the intellect.
Far more than uselessly he leaves the shore,
  (Since he returneth not the same he went,)
  Who fishes for the truth, and has no skill;
And in the world proofs manifest thereof
  Parmenides, Melissus, Brissus are,
  And many who went on and knew not whither;
Thus did Sabellius, Arius, and those fools
  Who have been even as swords unto the Scriptures
  In rendering distorted their straight faces.
Nor yet shall people be too confident
  In judging, even as he is who doth count
  The corn in field or ever it be ripe.
For I have seen all winter long the thorn
  First show itself intractable and fierce,
  And after bear the rose upon its top;
And I have seen a ship direct and swift
  Run o'er the sea throughout its course entire,
  To perish at the harbour's mouth at last.
Let not Dame Bertha nor Ser Martin think,
  Seeing one steal, another offering make,
  To see them in the arbitrament divine;
For one may rise, and fall the other may."
Paradiso: Canto XIV
From centre unto rim, from rim to centre,
  In a round vase the water moves itself,
  As from without 'tis struck or from within.
Into my mind upon a sudden dropped
  What I am saying, at the moment when
  Silent became the glorious life of Thomas,
Because of the resemblance that was born
  Of his discourse and that of Beatrice,
  Whom, after him, it pleased thus to begin:
"This man has need (and does not tell you so,
  Nor with the voice, nor even in his thought)
  Of going to the root of one truth more.
Declare unto him if the light wherewith
  Blossoms your substance shall remain with you
  Eternally the same that it is now;
And if it do remain, say in what manner,
  After ye are again made visible,
  It can be that it injure not your sight."
As by a greater gladness urged and drawn
  They who are dancing in a ring sometimes
  Uplift their voices and their motions quicken;
So, at that orison devout and prompt,
  The holy circles a new joy displayed
  In their revolving and their wondrous song.
Whoso lamenteth him that here we die
  That we may live above, has never there
  Seen the refreshment of the eternal rain.
The One and Two and Three who ever liveth,
  And reigneth ever in Three and Two and One,
  Not circumscribed and all things circumscribing,
Three several times was chanted by each one
  Among those spirits, with such melody
  That for all merit it were just reward;
And, in the lustre most divine of all
  The lesser ring, I heard a modest voice,
  Such as perhaps the Angel's was to Mary,
Answer: "As long as the festivity
  Of Paradise shall be, so long our love
  Shall radiate round about us such a vesture.
Its brightness is proportioned to the ardour,
  The ardour to the vision; and the vision
  Equals what grace it has above its worth.
When, glorious and sanctified, our flesh
  Is reassumed, then shall our persons be
  More pleasing by their being all complete;
For will increase whate'er bestows on us
  Of light gratuitous the Good Supreme,
  Light which enables us to look on Him;
Therefore the vision must perforce increase,
  Increase the ardour which from that is kindled,
  Increase the radiance which from this proceeds.
But even as a coal that sends forth flame,
  And by its vivid whiteness overpowers it
  So that its own appearance it maintains,
Thus the effulgence that surrounds us now
  Shall be o'erpowered in aspect by the flesh,
  Which still to-day the earth doth cover up;
Nor can so great a splendour weary us,
  For strong will be the organs of the body
  To everything which hath the power to please us."
So sudden and alert appeared to me
  Both one and the other choir to say Amen,
  That well they showed desire for their dead bodies;
Nor sole for them perhaps, but for the mothers,
  The fathers, and the rest who had been dear
  Or ever they became eternal flames.
And lo! all round about of equal brightness
  Arose a lustre over what was there,
  Like an horizon that is clearing up.
And as at rise of early eve begin
  Along the welkin new appearances,
  So that the sight seems real and unreal,
It seemed to me that new subsistences
  Began there to be seen, and make a circle
  Outside the other two circumferences.
O very sparkling of the Holy Spirit,
  How sudden and incandescent it became
  Unto mine eyes, that vanquished bore it not!
But Beatrice so beautiful and smiling
  Appeared to me, that with the other sights
  That followed not my memory I must leave her.
Then to uplift themselves mine eyes resumed
  The power, and I beheld myself translated
  To higher salvation with my Lady only.
Well was I ware that I was more uplifted
  By the enkindled smiling of the star,
  That seemed to me more ruddy than its wont.
With all my heart, and in that dialect
  Which is the same in all, such holocaust
  To God I made as the new grace beseemed;
And not yet from my bosom was exhausted
  The ardour of sacrifice, before I knew
  This offering was accepted and auspicious;
For with so great a lustre and so red
  Splendours appeared to me in twofold rays,
  I said: "O Helios who dost so adorn them!"
Even as distinct with less and greater lights
  Glimmers between the two poles of the world
  The Galaxy that maketh wise men doubt,
Thus constellated in the depths of Mars,
  Those rays described the venerable sign
  That quadrants joining in a circle make.
Here doth my memory overcome my genius;
  For on that cross as levin gleamed forth Christ,
  So that I cannot find ensample worthy;
But he who takes his cross and follows Christ
  Again will pardon me what I omit,
  Seeing in that aurora lighten Christ.
From horn to horn, and 'twixt the top and base,
  Lights were in motion, brightly scintillating
  As they together met and passed each other;
Thus level and aslant and swift and slow
  We here behold, renewing still the sight,
  The particles of bodies long and short,
Across the sunbeam move, wherewith is listed
  Sometimes the shade, which for their own defence
  People with cunning and with art contrive.
And as a lute and harp, accordant strung
  With many strings, a dulcet tinkling make
  To him by whom the notes are not distinguished,
So from the lights that there to me appeared
  Upgathered through the cross a melody,
  Which rapt me, not distinguishing the hymn.
Well was I ware it was of lofty laud,
  Because there came to me, "Arise and conquer!"
  As unto him who hears and comprehends not.
So much enamoured I became therewith,
  That until then there was not anything
  That e'er had fettered me with such sweet bonds.
Perhaps my word appears somewhat too bold,
  Postponing the delight of those fair eyes,
  Into which gazing my desire has rest;
But who bethinks him that the living seals
  Of every beauty grow in power ascending,
  And that I there had not turned round to those,
Can me excuse, if I myself accuse
  To excuse myself, and see that I speak truly:
  For here the holy joy is not disclosed,
Because ascending it becomes more pure.
Paradiso: Canto XV
A will benign, in which reveals itself
  Ever the love that righteously inspires,
  As in the iniquitous, cupidity,
Silence imposed upon that dulcet lyre,
  And quieted the consecrated chords,
  That Heaven's right hand doth tighten and relax.
How unto just entreaties shall be deaf
  Those substances, which, to give me desire
  Of praying them, with one accord grew silent?
'Tis well that without end he should lament,
  Who for the love of thing that doth not last
  Eternally despoils him of that love!
As through the pure and tranquil evening air
  There shoots from time to time a sudden fire,
  Moving the eyes that steadfast were before,
And seems to be a star that changeth place,
  Except that in the part where it is kindled
  Nothing is missed, and this endureth little;
So from the horn that to the right extends
  Unto that cross's foot there ran a star
  Out of the constellation shining there;
Nor was the gem dissevered from its ribbon,
  But down the radiant fillet ran along,
  So that fire seemed it behind alabaster.
Thus piteous did Anchises' shade reach forward,
  If any faith our greatest Muse deserve,
  When in Elysium he his son perceived.
"O sanguis meus, O superinfusa
  Gratia Dei, sicut tibi, cui
  Bis unquam Coeli janua reclusa?"
Thus that effulgence; whence I gave it heed;
  Then round unto my Lady turned my sight,
  And on this side and that was stupefied;
For in her eyes was burning such a smile
  That with mine own methought I touched the bottom
  Both of my grace and of my Paradise!
Then, pleasant to the hearing and the sight,
  The spirit joined to its beginning things
  I understood not, so profound it spake;
Nor did it hide itself from me by choice,
  But by necessity; for its conception
  Above the mark of mortals set itself.
And when the bow of burning sympathy
  Was so far slackened, that its speech descended
  Towards the mark of our intelligence,
The first thing that was understood by me
  Was "Benedight be Thou, O Trine and One,
  Who hast unto my seed so courteous been!"
And it continued: "Hunger long and grateful,
  Drawn from the reading of the mighty volume
  Wherein is never changed the white nor dark,
Thou hast appeased, my son, within this light
  In which I speak to thee, by grace of her
  Who to this lofty flight with plumage clothed thee.
Thou thinkest that to me thy thought doth pass
  From Him who is the first, as from the unit,
  If that be known, ray out the five and six;
And therefore who I am thou askest not,
  And why I seem more joyous unto thee
  Than any other of this gladsome crowd.
Thou think'st the truth; because the small and great
  Of this existence look into the mirror
  Wherein, before thou think'st, thy thought thou showest.
But that the sacred love, in which I watch
  With sight perpetual, and which makes me thirst
  With sweet desire, may better be fulfilled,
Now let thy voice secure and frank and glad
  Proclaim the wishes, the desire proclaim,
  To which my answer is decreed already."
To Beatrice I turned me, and she heard
  Before I spake, and smiled to me a sign,
  That made the wings of my desire increase;
Then in this wise began I: "Love and knowledge,
  When on you dawned the first Equality,
  Of the same weight for each of you became;
For in the Sun, which lighted you and burned
  With heat and radiance, they so equal are,
  That all similitudes are insufficient.
But among mortals will and argument,
  For reason that to you is manifest,
  Diversely feathered in their pinions are.
Whence I, who mortal am, feel in myself
  This inequality; so give not thanks,
  Save in my heart, for this paternal welcome.
Truly do I entreat thee, living topaz!
  Set in this precious jewel as a gem,
  That thou wilt satisfy me with thy name."
"O leaf of mine, in whom I pleasure took
  E'en while awaiting, I was thine own root!"
  Such a beginning he in answer made me.
Then said to me: "That one from whom is named
  Thy race, and who a hundred years and more
  Has circled round the mount on the first cornice,
A son of mine and thy great-grandsire was;
  Well it behoves thee that the long fatigue
  Thou shouldst for him make shorter with thy works.
Florence, within the ancient boundary
  From which she taketh still her tierce and nones,
  Abode in quiet, temperate and chaste.
No golden chain she had, nor coronal,
  Nor ladies shod with sandal shoon, nor girdle
  That caught the eye more than the person did.
Not yet the daughter at her birth struck fear
  Into the father, for the time and dower
  Did not o'errun this side or that the measure.
No houses had she void of families,
  Not yet had thither come Sardanapalus
  To show what in a chamber can be done;
Not yet surpassed had Montemalo been
  By your Uccellatojo, which surpassed
  Shall in its downfall be as in its rise.
Bellincion Berti saw I go begirt
  With leather and with bone, and from the mirror
  His dame depart without a painted face;
And him of Nerli saw, and him of Vecchio,
  Contented with their simple suits of buff
  And with the spindle and the flax their dames.
O fortunate women! and each one was certain
  Of her own burial-place, and none as yet
  For sake of France was in her bed deserted.
One o'er the cradle kept her studious watch,
  And in her lullaby the language used
  That first delights the fathers and the mothers;
Another, drawing tresses from her distaff,
  Told o'er among her family the tales
  Of Trojans and of Fesole and Rome.
As great a marvel then would have been held
  A Lapo Salterello, a Cianghella,
  As Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.
To such a quiet, such a beautiful
  Life of the citizen, to such a safe
  Community, and to so sweet an inn,
Did Mary give me, with loud cries invoked,
  And in your ancient Baptistery at once
  Christian and Cacciaguida I became.
Moronto was my brother, and Eliseo;
  From Val di Pado came to me my wife,
  And from that place thy surname was derived.
I followed afterward the Emperor Conrad,
  And he begirt me of his chivalry,
  So much I pleased him with my noble deeds.
I followed in his train against that law's
  Iniquity, whose people doth usurp
  Your just possession, through your Pastor's fault.
There by that execrable race was I
  Released from bonds of the fallacious world,
  The love of which defileth many souls,
And came from martyrdom unto this peace."
Paradiso: Canto XVI
O thou our poor nobility of blood,
  If thou dost make the people glory in thee
  Down here where our affection languishes,
A marvellous thing it ne'er will be to me;
  For there where appetite is not perverted,
  I say in Heaven, of thee I made a boast!
Truly thou art a cloak that quickly shortens,
  So that unless we piece thee day by day
  Time goeth round about thee with his shears!
With 'You,' which Rome was first to tolerate,
  (Wherein her family less perseveres,)
  Yet once again my words beginning made;
Whence Beatrice, who stood somewhat apart,
  Smiling, appeared like unto her who coughed
  At the first failing writ of Guenever.
And I began: "You are my ancestor,
  You give to me all hardihood to speak,
  You lift me so that I am more than I.
So many rivulets with gladness fill
  My mind, that of itself it makes a joy
  Because it can endure this and not burst.
Then tell me, my beloved root ancestral,
  Who were your ancestors, and what the years
  That in your boyhood chronicled themselves?
Tell me about the sheepfold of Saint John,
  How large it was, and who the people were
  Within it worthy of the highest seats."
As at the blowing of the winds a coal
  Quickens to flame, so I beheld that light
  Become resplendent at my blandishments.
And as unto mine eyes it grew more fair,
  With voice more sweet and tender, but not in
  This modern dialect, it said to me:
"From uttering of the 'Ave,' till the birth
  In which my mother, who is now a saint,
  Of me was lightened who had been her burden,
Unto its Lion had this fire returned
  Five hundred fifty times and thirty more,
  To reinflame itself beneath his paw.
My ancestors and I our birthplace had
  Where first is found the last ward of the city
  By him who runneth in your annual game.
Suffice it of my elders to hear this;
  But who they were, and whence they thither came,
  Silence is more considerate than speech.
All those who at that time were there between
  Mars and the Baptist, fit for bearing arms,
  Were a fifth part of those who now are living;
But the community, that now is mixed
  With Campi and Certaldo and Figghine,
  Pure in the lowest artisan was seen.
O how much better 'twere to have as neighbours
  The folk of whom I speak, and at Galluzzo
  And at Trespiano have your boundary,
Than have them in the town, and bear the stench
  Of Aguglione's churl, and him of Signa
  Who has sharp eyes for trickery already.
Had not the folk, which most of all the world
  Degenerates, been a step-dame unto Caesar,
  But as a mother to her son benignant,
Some who turn Florentines, and trade and discount,
  Would have gone back again to Simifonte
  There where their grandsires went about as beggars.
At Montemurlo still would be the Counts,
  The Cerchi in the parish of Acone,
  Perhaps in Valdigrieve the Buondelmonti.
Ever the intermingling of the people
  Has been the source of malady in cities,
  As in the body food it surfeits on;
And a blind bull more headlong plunges down
  Than a blind lamb; and very often cuts
  Better and more a single sword than five.
If Luni thou regard, and Urbisaglia,
  How they have passed away, and how are passing
  Chiusi and Sinigaglia after them,
To hear how races waste themselves away,
  Will seem to thee no novel thing nor hard,
  Seeing that even cities have an end.
All things of yours have their mortality,
  Even as yourselves; but it is hidden in some
  That a long while endure, and lives are short;
And as the turning of the lunar heaven
  Covers and bares the shores without a pause,
  In the like manner fortune does with Florence.
Therefore should not appear a marvellous thing
  What I shall say of the great Florentines
  Of whom the fame is hidden in the Past.
I saw the Ughi, saw the Catellini,
  Filippi, Greci, Ormanni, and Alberichi,
  Even in their fall illustrious citizens;
And saw, as mighty as they ancient were,
  With him of La Sannella him of Arca,
  And Soldanier, Ardinghi, and Bostichi.
Near to the gate that is at present laden
  With a new felony of so much weight
  That soon it shall be jetsam from the bark,
The Ravignani were, from whom descended
  The County Guido, and whoe'er the name
  Of the great Bellincione since hath taken.
He of La Pressa knew the art of ruling
  Already, and already Galigajo
  Had hilt and pommel gilded in his house.
Mighty already was the Column Vair,
  Sacchetti, Giuochi, Fifant, and Barucci,
  And Galli, and they who for the bushel blush.
The stock from which were the Calfucci born
  Was great already, and already chosen
  To curule chairs the Sizii and Arrigucci.
O how beheld I those who are undone
  By their own pride! and how the Balls of Gold
  Florence enflowered in all their mighty deeds!
So likewise did the ancestors of those
  Who evermore, when vacant is your church,
  Fatten by staying in consistory.
The insolent race, that like a dragon follows
  Whoever flees, and unto him that shows
  His teeth or purse is gentle as a lamb,
Already rising was, but from low people;
  So that it pleased not Ubertin Donato
  That his wife's father should make him their kin.
Already had Caponsacco to the Market
  From Fesole descended, and already
  Giuda and Infangato were good burghers.
I'll tell a thing incredible, but true;
  One entered the small circuit by a gate
  Which from the Della Pera took its name!
Each one that bears the beautiful escutcheon
  Of the great baron whose renown and name
  The festival of Thomas keepeth fresh,
Knighthood and privilege from him received;
  Though with the populace unites himself
  To-day the man who binds it with a border.
Already were Gualterotti and Importuni;
  And still more quiet would the Borgo be
  If with new neighbours it remained unfed.
The house from which is born your lamentation,
  Through just disdain that death among you brought
  And put an end unto your joyous life,
Was honoured in itself and its companions.
  O Buondelmonte, how in evil hour
  Thou fled'st the bridal at another's promptings!
Many would be rejoicing who are sad,
  If God had thee surrendered to the Ema
  The first time that thou camest to the city.
But it behoved the mutilated stone
  Which guards the bridge, that Florence should provide
  A victim in her latest hour of peace.
With all these families, and others with them,
  Florence beheld I in so great repose,
  That no occasion had she whence to weep;
With all these families beheld so just
  And glorious her people, that the lily
  Never upon the spear was placed reversed,
Nor by division was vermilion made."
Paradiso: Canto XVII
As came to Clymene, to be made certain
  Of that which he had heard against himself,
  He who makes fathers chary still to children,
Even such was I, and such was I perceived
  By Beatrice and by the holy light
  That first on my account had changed its place.
Therefore my Lady said to me: "Send forth
  The flame of thy desire, so that it issue
  Imprinted well with the internal stamp;
Not that our knowledge may be greater made
  By speech of thine, but to accustom thee
  To tell thy thirst, that we may give thee drink."
"O my beloved tree, (that so dost lift thee,
  That even as minds terrestrial perceive
  No triangle containeth two obtuse,
So thou beholdest the contingent things
  Ere in themselves they are, fixing thine eyes
  Upon the point in which all times are present,)
While I was with Virgilius conjoined
  Upon the mountain that the souls doth heal,
  And when descending into the dead world,
Were spoken to me of my future life
  Some grievous words; although I feel myself
  In sooth foursquare against the blows of chance.
On this account my wish would be content
  To hear what fortune is approaching me,
  Because foreseen an arrow comes more slowly."
Thus did I say unto that selfsame light
  That unto me had spoken before; and even
  As Beatrice willed was my own will confessed.
Not in vague phrase, in which the foolish folk
  Ensnared themselves of old, ere yet was slain
  The Lamb of God who taketh sins away,
But with clear words and unambiguous
  Language responded that paternal love,
  Hid and revealed by its own proper smile:
"Contingency, that outside of the volume
  Of your materiality extends not,
  Is all depicted in the eternal aspect.
Necessity however thence it takes not,
  Except as from the eye, in which 'tis mirrored,
  A ship that with the current down descends.
From thence, e'en as there cometh to the ear
  Sweet harmony from an organ, comes in sight
  To me the time that is preparing for thee.
As forth from Athens went Hippolytus,
  By reason of his step-dame false and cruel,
  So thou from Florence must perforce depart.
Already this is willed, and this is sought for;
  And soon it shall be done by him who thinks it,
  Where every day the Christ is bought and sold.
The blame shall follow the offended party
  In outcry as is usual; but the vengeance
  Shall witness to the truth that doth dispense it.
Thou shalt abandon everything beloved
  Most tenderly, and this the arrow is
  Which first the bow of banishment shoots forth.
Thou shalt have proof how savoureth of salt
  The bread of others, and how hard a road
  The going down and up another's stairs.
And that which most shall weigh upon thy shoulders
  Will be the bad and foolish company
  With which into this valley thou shalt fall;
For all ingrate, all mad and impious
  Will they become against thee; but soon after
  They, and not thou, shall have the forehead scarlet.
Of their bestiality their own proceedings
  Shall furnish proof; so 'twill be well for thee
  A party to have made thee by thyself.
Thine earliest refuge and thine earliest inn
  Shall be the mighty Lombard's courtesy,
  Who on the Ladder bears the holy bird,
Who such benign regard shall have for thee
  That 'twixt you twain, in doing and in asking,
  That shall be first which is with others last.
With him shalt thou see one who at his birth
  Has by this star of strength been so impressed,
  That notable shall his achievements be.
Not yet the people are aware of him
  Through his young age, since only nine years yet
  Around about him have these wheels revolved.
But ere the Gascon cheat the noble Henry,
  Some sparkles of his virtue shall appear
  In caring not for silver nor for toil.
So recognized shall his magnificence
  Become hereafter, that his enemies
  Will not have power to keep mute tongues about it.
On him rely, and on his benefits;
  By him shall many people be transformed,
  Changing condition rich and mendicant;
And written in thy mind thou hence shalt bear
  Of him, but shalt not say it"--and things said he
  Incredible to those who shall be present.
Then added: "Son, these are the commentaries
  On what was said to thee; behold the snares
  That are concealed behind few revolutions;
Yet would I not thy neighbours thou shouldst envy,
  Because thy life into the future reaches
  Beyond the punishment of their perfidies."
When by its silence showed that sainted soul
  That it had finished putting in the woof
  Into that web which I had given it warped,
Began I, even as he who yearneth after,
  Being in doubt, some counsel from a person
  Who seeth, and uprightly wills, and loves:
"Well see I, father mine, how spurreth on
  The time towards me such a blow to deal me
  As heaviest is to him who most gives way.
Therefore with foresight it is well I arm me,
  That, if the dearest place be taken from me,
  I may not lose the others by my songs.
Down through the world of infinite bitterness,
  And o'er the mountain, from whose beauteous summit
  The eyes of my own Lady lifted me,
And afterward through heaven from light to light,
  I have learned that which, if I tell again,
  Will be a savour of strong herbs to many.
And if I am a timid friend to truth,
  I fear lest I may lose my life with those
  Who will hereafter call this time the olden."
The light in which was smiling my own treasure
  Which there I had discovered, flashed at first
  As in the sunshine doth a golden mirror;
Then made reply: "A conscience overcast
  Or with its own or with another's shame,
  Will taste forsooth the tartness of thy word;
But ne'ertheless, all falsehood laid aside,
  Make manifest thy vision utterly,
  And let them scratch wherever is the itch;
For if thine utterance shall offensive be
  At the first taste, a vital nutriment
  'Twill leave thereafter, when it is digested.
This cry of thine shall do as doth the wind,
  Which smiteth most the most exalted summits,
  And that is no slight argument of honour.
Therefore are shown to thee within these wheels,
  Upon the mount and in the dolorous valley,
  Only the souls that unto fame are known;
Because the spirit of the hearer rests not,
  Nor doth confirm its faith by an example
  Which has the root of it unknown and hidden,
Or other reason that is not apparent."
Paradiso: Canto XVIII
Now was alone rejoicing in its word
  That soul beatified, and I was tasting
  My own, the bitter tempering with the sweet,
And the Lady who to God was leading me
  Said: "Change thy thought; consider that I am
  Near unto Him who every wrong disburdens."
Unto the loving accents of my comfort
  I turned me round, and then what love I saw
  Within those holy eyes I here relinquish;
Not only that my language I distrust,
  But that my mind cannot return so far
  Above itself, unless another guide it.
Thus much upon that point can I repeat,
  That, her again beholding, my affection
  From every other longing was released.
While the eternal pleasure, which direct
  Rayed upon Beatrice, from her fair face
  Contented me with its reflected aspect,
Conquering me with the radiance of a smile,
  She said to me, "Turn thee about and listen;
  Not in mine eyes alone is Paradise."
Even as sometimes here do we behold
  The affection in the look, if it be such
  That all the soul is wrapt away by it,
So, by the flaming of the effulgence holy
  To which I turned, I recognized therein
  The wish of speaking to me somewhat farther.
And it began: "In this fifth resting-place
  Upon the tree that liveth by its summit,
  And aye bears fruit, and never loses leaf,
Are blessed spirits that below, ere yet
  They came to Heaven, were of such great renown
  That every Muse therewith would affluent be.
Therefore look thou upon the cross's horns;
  He whom I now shall name will there enact
  What doth within a cloud its own swift fire."
I saw athwart the Cross a splendour drawn
  By naming Joshua, (even as he did it,)
  Nor noted I the word before the deed;
And at the name of the great Maccabee
  I saw another move itself revolving,
  And gladness was the whip unto that top.
Likewise for Charlemagne and for Orlando,
  Two of them my regard attentive followed
  As followeth the eye its falcon flying.
William thereafterward, and Renouard,
  And the Duke Godfrey, did attract my sight
  Along upon that Cross, and Robert Guiscard.
Then, moved and mingled with the other lights,
  The soul that had addressed me showed how great
  An artist 'twas among the heavenly singers.
To my right side I turned myself around,
  My duty to behold in Beatrice
  Either by words or gesture signified;
And so translucent I beheld her eyes,
  So full of pleasure, that her countenance
  Surpassed its other and its latest wont.
And as, by feeling greater delectation,
  A man in doing good from day to day
  Becomes aware his virtue is increasing,
So I became aware that my gyration
  With heaven together had increased its arc,
  That miracle beholding more adorned.
And such as is the change, in little lapse
  Of time, in a pale woman, when her face
  Is from the load of bashfulness unladen,
Such was it in mine eyes, when I had turned,
  Caused by the whiteness of the temperate star,
  The sixth, which to itself had gathered me.
Within that Jovial torch did I behold
  The sparkling of the love which was therein
  Delineate our language to mine eyes.
And even as birds uprisen from the shore,
  As in congratulation o'er their food,
  Make squadrons of themselves, now round, now long,
So from within those lights the holy creatures
  Sang flying to and fro, and in their figures
  Made of themselves now D, now I, now L.
First singing they to their own music moved;
  Then one becoming of these characters,
  A little while they rested and were silent.
O divine Pegasea, thou who genius
  Dost glorious make, and render it long-lived,
  And this through thee the cities and the kingdoms,
Illume me with thyself, that I may bring
  Their figures out as I have them conceived!
  Apparent be thy power in these brief verses!
Themselves then they displayed in five times seven
  Vowels and consonants; and I observed
  The parts as they seemed spoken unto me.
'Diligite justitiam,' these were
  First verb and noun of all that was depicted;
  'Qui judicatis terram' were the last.
Thereafter in the M of the fifth word
  Remained they so arranged, that Jupiter
  Seemed to be silver there with gold inlaid.
And other lights I saw descend where was
  The summit of the M, and pause there singing
  The good, I think, that draws them to itself.
Then, as in striking upon burning logs
  Upward there fly innumerable sparks,
  Whence fools are wont to look for auguries,
More than a thousand lights seemed thence to rise,
  And to ascend, some more, and others less,
  Even as the Sun that lights them had allotted;
And, each one being quiet in its place,
  The head and neck beheld I of an eagle
  Delineated by that inlaid fire.
He who there paints has none to be his guide;
  But Himself guides; and is from Him remembered
  That virtue which is form unto the nest.
The other beatitude, that contented seemed
  At first to bloom a lily on the M,
  By a slight motion followed out the imprint.
O gentle star! what and how many gems
  Did demonstrate to me, that all our justice
  Effect is of that heaven which thou ingemmest!
Wherefore I pray the Mind, in which begin
  Thy motion and thy virtue, to regard
  Whence comes the smoke that vitiates thy rays;
So that a second time it now be wroth
  With buying and with selling in the temple
  Whose walls were built with signs and martyrdoms!
O soldiery of heaven, whom I contemplate,
  Implore for those who are upon the earth
  All gone astray after the bad example!
Once 'twas the custom to make war with swords;
  But now 'tis made by taking here and there
  The bread the pitying Father shuts from none.
Yet thou, who writest but to cancel, think
  That Peter and that Paul, who for this vineyard
  Which thou art spoiling died, are still alive!
Well canst thou say: "So steadfast my desire
  Is unto him who willed to live alone,
  And for a dance was led to martyrdom,
That I know not the Fisherman nor Paul."
Paradiso: Canto XIX
Appeared before me with its wings outspread
  The beautiful image that in sweet fruition
  Made jubilant the interwoven souls;
Appeared a little ruby each, wherein
  Ray of the sun was burning so enkindled
  That each into mine eyes refracted it.
And what it now behoves me to retrace
  Nor voice has e'er reported, nor ink written,
  Nor was by fantasy e'er comprehended;
For speak I saw, and likewise heard, the beak,
  And utter with its voice both 'I' and 'My,'
  When in conception it was 'We' and 'Our.'
And it began: "Being just and merciful
  Am I exalted here unto that glory
  Which cannot be exceeded by desire;
And upon earth I left my memory
  Such, that the evil-minded people there
  Commend it, but continue not the story."
So doth a single heat from many embers
  Make itself felt, even as from many loves
  Issued a single sound from out that image.
Whence I thereafter: "O perpetual flowers
  Of the eternal joy, that only one
  Make me perceive your odours manifold,
Exhaling, break within me the great fast
  Which a long season has in hunger held me,
  Not finding for it any food on earth.
Well do I know, that if in heaven its mirror
  Justice Divine another realm doth make,
  Yours apprehends it not through any veil.
You know how I attentively address me
  To listen; and you know what is the doubt
  That is in me so very old a fast."
Even as a falcon, issuing from his hood,
  Doth move his head, and with his wings applaud him,
  Showing desire, and making himself fine,
Saw I become that standard, which of lauds
  Was interwoven of the grace divine,
  With such songs as he knows who there rejoices.
Then it began: "He who a compass turned
  On the world's outer verge, and who within it
  Devised so much occult and manifest,
Could not the impress of his power so make
  On all the universe, as that his Word
  Should not remain in infinite excess.
And this makes certain that the first proud being,
  Who was the paragon of every creature,
  By not awaiting light fell immature.
And hence appears it, that each minor nature
  Is scant receptacle unto that good
  Which has no end, and by itself is measured.
In consequence our vision, which perforce
  Must be some ray of that intelligence
  With which all things whatever are replete,
Cannot in its own nature be so potent,
  That it shall not its origin discern
  Far beyond that which is apparent to it.
Therefore into the justice sempiternal
  The power of vision that your world receives,
  As eye into the ocean, penetrates;
Which, though it see the bottom near the shore,
  Upon the deep perceives it not, and yet
  'Tis there, but it is hidden by the depth.
There is no light but comes from the serene
  That never is o'ercast, nay, it is darkness
  Or shadow of the flesh, or else its poison.
Amply to thee is opened now the cavern
  Which has concealed from thee the living justice
  Of which thou mad'st such frequent questioning.
For saidst thou: 'Born a man is on the shore
  Of Indus, and is none who there can speak
  Of Christ, nor who can read, nor who can write;
And all his inclinations and his actions
  Are good, so far as human reason sees,
  Without a sin in life or in discourse:
He dieth unbaptised and without faith;
  Where is this justice that condemneth him?
  Where is his fault, if he do not believe?'
Now who art thou, that on the bench wouldst sit
  In judgment at a thousand miles away,
  With the short vision of a single span?
Truly to him who with me subtilizes,
  If so the Scripture were not over you,
  For doubting there were marvellous occasion.
O animals terrene, O stolid minds,
  The primal will, that in itself is good,
  Ne'er from itself, the Good Supreme, has moved.
So much is just as is accordant with it;
  No good created draws it to itself,
  But it, by raying forth, occasions that."
Even as above her nest goes circling round
  The stork when she has fed her little ones,
  And he who has been fed looks up at her,
So lifted I my brows, and even such
  Became the blessed image, which its wings
  Was moving, by so many counsels urged.
Circling around it sang, and said: "As are
  My notes to thee, who dost not comprehend them,
  Such is the eternal judgment to you mortals."
Those lucent splendours of the Holy Spirit
  Grew quiet then, but still within the standard
  That made the Romans reverend to the world.
It recommenced: "Unto this kingdom never
  Ascended one who had not faith in Christ,
  Before or since he to the tree was nailed.
But look thou, many crying are, 'Christ, Christ!'
  Who at the judgment shall be far less near
  To him than some shall be who knew not Christ.
Such Christians shall the Ethiop condemn,
  When the two companies shall be divided,
  The one for ever rich, the other poor.
What to your kings may not the Persians say,
  When they that volume opened shall behold
  In which are written down all their dispraises?
There shall be seen, among the deeds of Albert,
  That which ere long shall set the pen in motion,
  For which the realm of Prague shall be deserted.
There shall be seen the woe that on the Seine
  He brings by falsifying of the coin,
  Who by the blow of a wild boar shall die.
There shall be seen the pride that causes thirst,
  Which makes the Scot and Englishman so mad
  That they within their boundaries cannot rest;
Be seen the luxury and effeminate life
  Of him of Spain, and the Bohemian,
  Who valour never knew and never wished;
Be seen the Cripple of Jerusalem,
  His goodness represented by an I,
  While the reverse an M shall represent;
Be seen the avarice and poltroonery
  Of him who guards the Island of the Fire,
  Wherein Anchises finished his long life;
And to declare how pitiful he is
  Shall be his record in contracted letters
  Which shall make note of much in little space.
And shall appear to each one the foul deeds
  Of uncle and of brother who a nation
  So famous have dishonoured, and two crowns.
And he of Portugal and he of Norway
  Shall there be known, and he of Rascia too,
  Who saw in evil hour the coin of Venice.
O happy Hungary, if she let herself
  Be wronged no farther! and Navarre the happy,
  If with the hills that gird her she be armed!
And each one may believe that now, as hansel
  Thereof, do Nicosia and Famagosta
  Lament and rage because of their own beast,
Who from the others' flank departeth not."
Paradiso: Canto XX
When he who all the world illuminates
  Out of our hemisphere so far descends
  That on all sides the daylight is consumed,
The heaven, that erst by him alone was kindled,
  Doth suddenly reveal itself again
  By many lights, wherein is one resplendent.
And came into my mind this act of heaven,
  When the ensign of the world and of its leaders
  Had silent in the blessed beak become;
Because those living luminaries all,
  By far more luminous, did songs begin
  Lapsing and falling from my memory.
O gentle Love, that with a smile dost cloak thee,
  How ardent in those sparks didst thou appear,
  That had the breath alone of holy thoughts!
After the precious and pellucid crystals,
  With which begemmed the sixth light I beheld,
  Silence imposed on the angelic bells,
I seemed to hear the murmuring of a river
  That clear descendeth down from rock to rock,
  Showing the affluence of its mountain-top.
And as the sound upon the cithern's neck
  Taketh its form, and as upon the vent
  Of rustic pipe the wind that enters it,
Even thus, relieved from the delay of waiting,
  That murmuring of the eagle mounted up
  Along its neck, as if it had been hollow.
There it became a voice, and issued thence
  From out its beak, in such a form of words
  As the heart waited for wherein I wrote them.
"The part in me which sees and bears the sun
  In mortal eagles," it began to me,
  "Now fixedly must needs be looked upon;
For of the fires of which I make my figure,
  Those whence the eye doth sparkle in my head
  Of all their orders the supremest are.
He who is shining in the midst as pupil
  Was once the singer of the Holy Spirit,
  Who bore the ark from city unto city;
Now knoweth he the merit of his song,
  In so far as effect of his own counsel,
  By the reward which is commensurate.
Of five, that make a circle for my brow,
  He that approacheth nearest to my beak
  Did the poor widow for her son console;
Now knoweth he how dearly it doth cost
  Not following Christ, by the experience
  Of this sweet life and of its opposite.
He who comes next in the circumference
  Of which I speak, upon its highest arc,
  Did death postpone by penitence sincere;
Now knoweth he that the eternal judgment
  Suffers no change, albeit worthy prayer
  Maketh below to-morrow of to-day.
The next who follows, with the laws and me,
  Under the good intent that bore bad fruit
  Became a Greek by ceding to the pastor;
Now knoweth he how all the ill deduced
  From his good action is not harmful to him,
  Although the world thereby may be destroyed.
And he, whom in the downward arc thou seest,
  Guglielmo was, whom the same land deplores
  That weepeth Charles and Frederick yet alive;
Now knoweth he how heaven enamoured is
  With a just king; and in the outward show
  Of his effulgence he reveals it still.
Who would believe, down in the errant world,
  That e'er the Trojan Ripheus in this round
  Could be the fifth one of the holy lights?
Now knoweth he enough of what the world
  Has not the power to see of grace divine,
  Although his sight may not discern the bottom."
Like as a lark that in the air expatiates,
  First singing and then silent with content
  Of the last sweetness that doth satisfy her,
Such seemed to me the image of the imprint
  Of the eternal pleasure, by whose will
  Doth everything become the thing it is.
And notwithstanding to my doubt I was
  As glass is to the colour that invests it,
  To wait the time in silence it endured not,
But forth from out my mouth, "What things are these?"
  Extorted with the force of its own weight;
  Whereat I saw great joy of coruscation.
Thereafterward with eye still more enkindled
  The blessed standard made to me reply,
  To keep me not in wonderment suspended:
"I see that thou believest in these things
  Because I say them, but thou seest not how;
  So that, although believed in, they are hidden.
Thou doest as he doth who a thing by name
  Well apprehendeth, but its quiddity
  Cannot perceive, unless another show it.
'Regnum coelorum' suffereth violence
  From fervent love, and from that living hope
  That overcometh the Divine volition;
Not in the guise that man o'ercometh man,
  But conquers it because it will be conquered,
  And conquered conquers by benignity.
The first life of the eyebrow and the fifth
  Cause thee astonishment, because with them
  Thou seest the region of the angels painted.
They passed not from their bodies, as thou thinkest,
  Gentiles, but Christians in the steadfast faith
  Of feet that were to suffer and had suffered.
For one from Hell, where no one e'er turns back
  Unto good will, returned unto his bones,
  And that of living hope was the reward,--
Of living hope, that placed its efficacy
  In prayers to God made to resuscitate him,
  So that 'twere possible to move his will.
The glorious soul concerning which I speak,
  Returning to the flesh, where brief its stay,
  Believed in Him who had the power to aid it;
And, in believing, kindled to such fire
  Of genuine love, that at the second death
  Worthy it was to come unto this joy.
The other one, through grace, that from so deep
  A fountain wells that never hath the eye
  Of any creature reached its primal wave,
Set all his love below on righteousness;
  Wherefore from grace to grace did God unclose
  His eye to our redemption yet to be,
Whence he believed therein, and suffered not
  From that day forth the stench of paganism,
  And he reproved therefor the folk perverse.
Those Maidens three, whom at the right-hand wheel
  Thou didst behold, were unto him for baptism
  More than a thousand years before baptizing.
O thou predestination, how remote
  Thy root is from the aspect of all those
  Who the First Cause do not behold entire!
And you, O mortals! hold yourselves restrained
  In judging; for ourselves, who look on God,
  We do not know as yet all the elect;
And sweet to us is such a deprivation,
  Because our good in this good is made perfect,
  That whatsoe'er God wills, we also will."
After this manner by that shape divine,
  To make clear in me my short-sightedness,
  Was given to me a pleasant medicine;
And as good singer a good lutanist
  Accompanies with vibrations of the chords,
  Whereby more pleasantness the song acquires,
So, while it spake, do I remember me
  That I beheld both of those blessed lights,
  Even as the winking of the eyes concords,
Moving unto the words their little flames.
Paradiso: Canto XXI
Already on my Lady's face mine eyes
  Again were fastened, and with these my mind,
  And from all other purpose was withdrawn;
And she smiled not; but "If I were to smile,"
  She unto me began, "thou wouldst become
  Like Semele, when she was turned to ashes.
Because my beauty, that along the stairs
  Of the eternal palace more enkindles,
  As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend,
If it were tempered not, is so resplendent
  That all thy mortal power in its effulgence
  Would seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes.
We are uplifted to the seventh splendour,
  That underneath the burning Lion's breast
  Now radiates downward mingled with his power.
Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind,
  And make of them a mirror for the figure
  That in this mirror shall appear to thee."
He who could know what was the pasturage
  My sight had in that blessed countenance,
  When I transferred me to another care,
Would recognize how grateful was to me
  Obedience unto my celestial escort,
  By counterpoising one side with the other.
Within the crystal which, around the world
  Revolving, bears the name of its dear leader,
  Under whom every wickedness lay dead,
Coloured like gold, on which the sunshine gleams,
  A stairway I beheld to such a height
  Uplifted, that mine eye pursued it not.
Likewise beheld I down the steps descending
  So many splendours, that I thought each light
  That in the heaven appears was there diffused.
And as accordant with their natural custom
  The rooks together at the break of day
  Bestir themselves to warm their feathers cold;
Then some of them fly off without return,
  Others come back to where they started from,
  And others, wheeling round, still keep at home;
Such fashion it appeared to me was there
  Within the sparkling that together came,
  As soon as on a certain step it struck,
And that which nearest unto us remained
  Became so clear, that in my thought I said,
  "Well I perceive the love thou showest me;
But she, from whom I wait the how and when
  Of speech and silence, standeth still; whence I
  Against desire do well if I ask not."
She thereupon, who saw my silentness
  In the sight of Him who seeth everything,
  Said unto me, "Let loose thy warm desire."
And I began: "No merit of my own
  Renders me worthy of response from thee;
  But for her sake who granteth me the asking,
Thou blessed life that dost remain concealed
  In thy beatitude, make known to me
  The cause which draweth thee so near my side;
And tell me why is silent in this wheel
  The dulcet symphony of Paradise,
  That through the rest below sounds so devoutly."
"Thou hast thy hearing mortal as thy sight,"
  It answer made to me; "they sing not here,
  For the same cause that Beatrice has not smiled.
Thus far adown the holy stairway's steps
  Have I descended but to give thee welcome
  With words, and with the light that mantles me;
Nor did more love cause me to be more ready,
  For love as much and more up there is burning,
  As doth the flaming manifest to thee.
But the high charity, that makes us servants
  Prompt to the counsel which controls the world,
  Allotteth here, even as thou dost observe."
"I see full well," said I, "O sacred lamp!
  How love unfettered in this court sufficeth
  To follow the eternal Providence;
But this is what seems hard for me to see,
  Wherefore predestinate wast thou alone
  Unto this office from among thy consorts."
No sooner had I come to the last word,
  Than of its middle made the light a centre,
  Whirling itself about like a swift millstone.
When answer made the love that was therein:
  "On me directed is a light divine,
  Piercing through this in which I am embosomed,
Of which the virtue with my sight conjoined
  Lifts me above myself so far, I see
  The supreme essence from which this is drawn.
Hence comes the joyfulness with which I flame,
  For to my sight, as far as it is clear,
  The clearness of the flame I equal make.
But that soul in the heaven which is most pure,
  That seraph which his eye on God most fixes,
  Could this demand of thine not satisfy;
Because so deeply sinks in the abyss
  Of the eternal statute what thou askest,
  From all created sight it is cut off.
And to the mortal world, when thou returnest,
  This carry back, that it may not presume
  Longer tow'rd such a goal to move its feet.
The mind, that shineth here, on earth doth smoke;
  From this observe how can it do below
  That which it cannot though the heaven assume it?"
Such limit did its words prescribe to me,
  The question I relinquished, and restricted
  Myself to ask it humbly who it was.
"Between two shores of Italy rise cliffs,
  And not far distant from thy native place,
  So high, the thunders far below them sound,
And form a ridge that Catria is called,
  'Neath which is consecrate a hermitage
  Wont to be dedicate to worship only."
Thus unto me the third speech recommenced,
  And then, continuing, it said: "Therein
  Unto God's service I became so steadfast,
That feeding only on the juice of olives
  Lightly I passed away the heats and frosts,
  Contented in my thoughts contemplative.
That cloister used to render to these heavens
  Abundantly, and now is empty grown,
  So that perforce it soon must be revealed.
I in that place was Peter Damiano;
  And Peter the Sinner was I in the house
  Of Our Lady on the Adriatic shore.
Little of mortal life remained to me,
  When I was called and dragged forth to the hat
  Which shifteth evermore from bad to worse.
Came Cephas, and the mighty Vessel came
  Of the Holy Spirit, meagre and barefooted,
  Taking the food of any hostelry.
Now some one to support them on each side
  The modern shepherds need, and some to lead them,
  So heavy are they, and to hold their trains.
They cover up their palfreys with their cloaks,
  So that two beasts go underneath one skin;
  O Patience, that dost tolerate so much!"
At this voice saw I many little flames
  From step to step descending and revolving,
  And every revolution made them fairer.
Round about this one came they and stood still,
  And a cry uttered of so loud a sound,
  It here could find no parallel, nor I
Distinguished it, the thunder so o'ercame me.
Paradiso: Canto XXII
Oppressed with stupor, I unto my guide
  Turned like a little child who always runs
  For refuge there where he confideth most;
And she, even as a mother who straightway
  Gives comfort to her pale and breathless boy
  With voice whose wont it is to reassure him,
Said to me: "Knowest thou not thou art in heaven,
  And knowest thou not that heaven is holy all
  And what is done here cometh from good zeal?
After what wise the singing would have changed thee
  And I by smiling, thou canst now imagine,
  Since that the cry has startled thee so much,
In which if thou hadst understood its prayers
  Already would be known to thee the vengeance
  Which thou shalt look upon before thou diest.
The sword above here smiteth not in haste
  Nor tardily, howe'er it seem to him
  Who fearing or desiring waits for it.
But turn thee round towards the others now,
  For very illustrious spirits shalt thou see,
  If thou thy sight directest as I say."
As it seemed good to her mine eyes I turned,
  And saw a hundred spherules that together
  With mutual rays each other more embellished.
I stood as one who in himself represses
  The point of his desire, and ventures not
  To question, he so feareth the too much.
And now the largest and most luculent
  Among those pearls came forward, that it might
  Make my desire concerning it content.
Within it then I heard: "If thou couldst see
  Even as myself the charity that burns
  Among us, thy conceits would be expressed;
But, that by waiting thou mayst not come late
  To the high end, I will make answer even
  Unto the thought of which thou art so chary.
That mountain on whose slope Cassino stands
  Was frequented of old upon its summit
  By a deluded folk and ill-disposed;
And I am he who first up thither bore
  The name of Him who brought upon the earth
  The truth that so much sublimateth us.
And such abundant grace upon me shone
  That all the neighbouring towns I drew away
  From the impious worship that seduced the world.
These other fires, each one of them, were men
  Contemplative, enkindled by that heat
  Which maketh holy flowers and fruits spring up.
Here is Macarius, here is Romualdus,
  Here are my brethren, who within the cloisters
  Their footsteps stayed and kept a steadfast heart."
And I to him: "The affection which thou showest
  Speaking with me, and the good countenance
  Which I behold and note in all your ardours,
In me have so my confidence dilated
  As the sun doth the rose, when it becomes
  As far unfolded as it hath the power.
Therefore I pray, and thou assure me, father,
  If I may so much grace receive, that I
  May thee behold with countenance unveiled."
He thereupon: "Brother, thy high desire
  In the remotest sphere shall be fulfilled,
  Where are fulfilled all others and my own.
There perfect is, and ripened, and complete,
  Every desire; within that one alone
  Is every part where it has always been;
For it is not in space, nor turns on poles,
  And unto it our stairway reaches up,
  Whence thus from out thy sight it steals away.
Up to that height the Patriarch Jacob saw it
  Extending its supernal part, what time
  So thronged with angels it appeared to him.
But to ascend it now no one uplifts
  His feet from off the earth, and now my Rule
  Below remaineth for mere waste of paper.
The walls that used of old to be an Abbey
  Are changed to dens of robbers, and the cowls
  Are sacks filled full of miserable flour.
But heavy usury is not taken up
  So much against God's pleasure as that fruit
  Which maketh so insane the heart of monks;
For whatsoever hath the Church in keeping
  Is for the folk that ask it in God's name,
  Not for one's kindred or for something worse.
The flesh of mortals is so very soft,
  That good beginnings down below suffice not
  From springing of the oak to bearing acorns.
Peter began with neither gold nor silver,
  And I with orison and abstinence,
  And Francis with humility his convent.
And if thou lookest at each one's beginning,
  And then regardest whither he has run,
  Thou shalt behold the white changed into brown.
In verity the Jordan backward turned,
  And the sea's fleeing, when God willed were more
  A wonder to behold, than succour here."
Thus unto me he said; and then withdrew
  To his own band, and the band closed together;
  Then like a whirlwind all was upward rapt.
The gentle Lady urged me on behind them
  Up o'er that stairway by a single sign,
  So did her virtue overcome my nature;
Nor here below, where one goes up and down
  By natural law, was motion e'er so swift
  That it could be compared unto my wing.
Reader, as I may unto that devout
  Triumph return, on whose account I often
  For my transgressions weep and beat my breast,--
Thou hadst not thrust thy finger in the fire
  And drawn it out again, before I saw
  The sign that follows Taurus, and was in it.
O glorious stars, O light impregnated
  With mighty virtue, from which I acknowledge
  All of my genius, whatsoe'er it be,
With you was born, and hid himself with you,
  He who is father of all mortal life,
  When first I tasted of the Tuscan air;
And then when grace was freely given to me
  To enter the high wheel which turns you round,
  Your region was allotted unto me.
To you devoutly at this hour my soul
  Is sighing, that it virtue may acquire
  For the stern pass that draws it to itself.
"Thou art so near unto the last salvation,"
  Thus Beatrice began, "thou oughtest now
  To have thine eves unclouded and acute;
And therefore, ere thou enter farther in,
  Look down once more, and see how vast a world
  Thou hast already put beneath thy feet;
So that thy heart, as jocund as it may,
  Present itself to the triumphant throng
  That comes rejoicing through this rounded ether."
I with my sight returned through one and all
  The sevenfold spheres, and I beheld this globe
  Such that I smiled at its ignoble semblance;
And that opinion I approve as best
  Which doth account it least; and he who thinks
  Of something else may truly be called just.
I saw the daughter of Latona shining
  Without that shadow, which to me was cause
  That once I had believed her rare and dense.
The aspect of thy son, Hyperion,
  Here I sustained, and saw how move themselves
  Around and near him Maia and Dione.
Thence there appeared the temperateness of Jove
  'Twixt son and father, and to me was clear
  The change that of their whereabout they make;
And all the seven made manifest to me
  How great they are, and eke how swift they are,
  And how they are in distant habitations.
The threshing-floor that maketh us so proud,
  To me revolving with the eternal Twins,
  Was all apparent made from hill to harbour!
Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes I turned.
Paradiso: Canto XXIII
Even as a bird, 'mid the beloved leaves,
  Quiet upon the nest of her sweet brood
  Throughout the night, that hideth all things from us,
Who, that she may behold their longed-for looks
  And find the food wherewith to nourish them,
  In which, to her, grave labours grateful are,
Anticipates the time on open spray
  And with an ardent longing waits the sun,
  Gazing intent as soon as breaks the dawn:
Even thus my Lady standing was, erect
  And vigilant, turned round towards the zone
  Underneath which the sun displays less haste;
So that beholding her distraught and wistful,
  Such I became as he is who desiring
  For something yearns, and hoping is appeased.
But brief the space from one When to the other;
  Of my awaiting, say I, and the seeing
  The welkin grow resplendent more and more.
And Beatrice exclaimed: "Behold the hosts
  Of Christ's triumphal march, and all the fruit
  Harvested by the rolling of these spheres!"
It seemed to me her face was all aflame;
  And eyes she had so full of ecstasy
  That I must needs pass on without describing.
As when in nights serene of the full moon
  Smiles Trivia among the nymphs eternal
  Who paint the firmament through all its gulfs,
Saw I, above the myriads of lamps,
  A Sun that one and all of them enkindled,
  E'en as our own doth the supernal sights,
And through the living light transparent shone
  The lucent substance so intensely clear
  Into my sight, that I sustained it not.
O Beatrice, thou gentle guide and dear!
  To me she said: "What overmasters thee
  A virtue is from which naught shields itself.
There are the wisdom and the omnipotence
  That oped the thoroughfares 'twixt heaven and earth,
  For which there erst had been so long a yearning."
As fire from out a cloud unlocks itself,
  Dilating so it finds not room therein,
  And down, against its nature, falls to earth,
So did my mind, among those aliments
  Becoming larger, issue from itself,
  And that which it became cannot remember.
"Open thine eyes, and look at what I am:
  Thou hast beheld such things, that strong enough
  Hast thou become to tolerate my smile."
I was as one who still retains the feeling
  Of a forgotten vision, and endeavours
  In vain to bring it back into his mind,
When I this invitation heard, deserving
  Of so much gratitude, it never fades
  Out of the book that chronicles the past.
If at this moment sounded all the tongues
  That Polyhymnia and her sisters made
  Most lubrical with their delicious milk,
To aid me, to a thousandth of the truth
  It would not reach, singing the holy smile
  And how the holy aspect it illumed.
And therefore, representing Paradise,
  The sacred poem must perforce leap over,
  Even as a man who finds his way cut off;
But whoso thinketh of the ponderous theme,
  And of the mortal shoulder laden with it,
  Should blame it not, if under this it tremble.
It is no passage for a little boat
  This which goes cleaving the audacious prow,
  Nor for a pilot who would spare himself.
"Why doth my face so much enamour thee,
  That to the garden fair thou turnest not,
  Which under the rays of Christ is blossoming?
There is the Rose in which the Word Divine
  Became incarnate; there the lilies are
  By whose perfume the good way was discovered."
Thus Beatrice; and I, who to her counsels
  Was wholly ready, once again betook me
  Unto the battle of the feeble brows.
As in the sunshine, that unsullied streams
  Through fractured cloud, ere now a meadow of flowers
  Mine eyes with shadow covered o'er have seen,
So troops of splendours manifold I saw
  Illumined from above with burning rays,
  Beholding not the source of the effulgence.
O power benignant that dost so imprint them!
  Thou didst exalt thyself to give more scope
  There to mine eyes, that were not strong enough.
The name of that fair flower I e'er invoke
  Morning and evening utterly enthralled
  My soul to gaze upon the greater fire.
And when in both mine eyes depicted were
  The glory and greatness of the living star
  Which there excelleth, as it here excelled,
Athwart the heavens a little torch descended
  Formed in a circle like a coronal,
  And cinctured it, and whirled itself about it.
Whatever melody most sweetly soundeth
  On earth, and to itself most draws the soul,
  Would seem a cloud that, rent asunder, thunders,
Compared unto the sounding of that lyre
  Wherewith was crowned the sapphire beautiful,
  Which gives the clearest heaven its sapphire hue.
"I am Angelic Love, that circle round
  The joy sublime which breathes from out the womb
  That was the hostelry of our Desire;
And I shall circle, Lady of Heaven, while
  Thou followest thy Son, and mak'st diviner
  The sphere supreme, because thou enterest there."
Thus did the circulated melody
  Seal itself up; and all the other lights
  Were making to resound the name of Mary.
The regal mantle of the volumes all
  Of that world, which most fervid is and living
  With breath of God and with his works and ways,
Extended over us its inner border,
  So very distant, that the semblance of it
  There where I was not yet appeared to me.
Therefore mine eyes did not possess the power
  Of following the incoronated flame,
  Which mounted upward near to its own seed.
And as a little child, that towards its mother
  Stretches its arms, when it the milk has taken,
  Through impulse kindled into outward flame,
Each of those gleams of whiteness upward reached
  So with its summit, that the deep affection
  They had for Mary was revealed to me.
Thereafter they remained there in my sight,
  'Regina coeli' singing with such sweetness,
  That ne'er from me has the delight departed.
O, what exuberance is garnered up
  Within those richest coffers, which had been
  Good husbandmen for sowing here below!
There they enjoy and live upon the treasure
  Which was acquired while weeping in the exile
  Of Babylon, wherein the gold was left.
There triumpheth, beneath the exalted Son
  Of God and Mary, in his victory,
  Both with the ancient council and the new,
He who doth keep the keys of such a glory.
Paradiso: Canto XXIV
"O company elect to the great supper
  Of the Lamb benedight, who feedeth you
  So that for ever full is your desire,
If by the grace of God this man foretaste
  Something of that which falleth from your table,
  Or ever death prescribe to him the time,
Direct your mind to his immense desire,
  And him somewhat bedew; ye drinking are
  For ever at the fount whence comes his thought."
Thus Beatrice; and those souls beatified
  Transformed themselves to spheres on steadfast poles,
  Flaming intensely in the guise of comets.
And as the wheels in works of horologes
  Revolve so that the first to the beholder
  Motionless seems, and the last one to fly,
So in like manner did those carols, dancing
  In different measure, of their affluence
  Give me the gauge, as they were swift or slow.
From that one which I noted of most beauty
  Beheld I issue forth a fire so happy
  That none it left there of a greater brightness;
And around Beatrice three several times
  It whirled itself with so divine a song,
  My fantasy repeats it not to me;
Therefore the pen skips, and I write it not,
  Since our imagination for such folds,
  Much more our speech, is of a tint too glaring.
"O holy sister mine, who us implorest
  With such devotion, by thine ardent love
  Thou dost unbind me from that beautiful sphere!"
Thereafter, having stopped, the blessed fire
  Unto my Lady did direct its breath,
  Which spake in fashion as I here have said.
And she: "O light eterne of the great man
  To whom our Lord delivered up the keys
  He carried down of this miraculous joy,
This one examine on points light and grave,
  As good beseemeth thee, about the Faith
  By means of which thou on the sea didst walk.
If he love well, and hope well, and believe,
  From thee 'tis hid not; for thou hast thy sight
  There where depicted everything is seen.
But since this kingdom has made citizens
  By means of the true Faith, to glorify it
  'Tis well he have the chance to speak thereof."
As baccalaureate arms himself, and speaks not
  Until the master doth propose the question,
  To argue it, and not to terminate it,
So did I arm myself with every reason,
  While she was speaking, that I might be ready
  For such a questioner and such profession.
"Say, thou good Christian; manifest thyself;
  What is the Faith?"  Whereat I raised my brow
  Unto that light wherefrom was this breathed forth.
Then turned I round to Beatrice, and she
  Prompt signals made to me that I should pour
  The water forth from my internal fountain.
"May grace, that suffers me to make confession,"
  Began I, "to the great centurion,
  Cause my conceptions all to be explicit!"
And I continued: "As the truthful pen,
  Father, of thy dear brother wrote of it,
  Who put with thee Rome into the good way,
Faith is the substance of the things we hope for,
  And evidence of those that are not seen;
  And this appears to me its quiddity."
Then heard I: "Very rightly thou perceivest,
  If well thou understandest why he placed it
  With substances and then with evidences."
And I thereafterward: "The things profound,
  That here vouchsafe to me their apparition,
  Unto all eyes below are so concealed,
That they exist there only in belief,
  Upon the which is founded the high hope,
  And hence it takes the nature of a substance.
And it behoveth us from this belief
  To reason without having other sight,
  And hence it has the nature of evidence."
Then heard I: "If whatever is acquired
  Below by doctrine were thus understood,
  No sophist's subtlety would there find place."
Thus was breathed forth from that enkindled love;
  Then added: "Very well has been gone over
  Already of this coin the alloy and weight;
But tell me if thou hast it in thy purse?"
  And I: "Yes, both so shining and so round
  That in its stamp there is no peradventure."
Thereafter issued from the light profound
  That there resplendent was: "This precious jewel,
  Upon the which is every virtue founded,
Whence hadst thou it?"  And I: "The large outpouring
  Of Holy Spirit, which has been diffused
  Upon the ancient parchments and the new,
A syllogism is, which proved it to me
  With such acuteness, that, compared therewith,
  All demonstration seems to me obtuse."
And then I heard: "The ancient and the new
  Postulates, that to thee are so conclusive,
  Why dost thou take them for the word divine?"
And I: "The proofs, which show the truth to me,
  Are the works subsequent, whereunto Nature
  Ne'er heated iron yet, nor anvil beat."
'Twas answered me: "Say, who assureth thee
  That those works ever were? the thing itself
  That must be proved, nought else to thee affirms it."
"Were the world to Christianity converted,"
  I said, "withouten miracles, this one
  Is such, the rest are not its hundredth part;
Because that poor and fasting thou didst enter
  Into the field to sow there the good plant,
  Which was a vine and has become a thorn!"
This being finished, the high, holy Court
  Resounded through the spheres, "One God we praise!"
  In melody that there above is chanted.
And then that Baron, who from branch to branch,
  Examining, had thus conducted me,
  Till the extremest leaves we were approaching,
Again began: "The Grace that dallying
  Plays with thine intellect thy mouth has opened,
  Up to this point, as it should opened be,
So that I do approve what forth emerged;
  But now thou must express what thou believest,
  And whence to thy belief it was presented."
"O holy father, spirit who beholdest
  What thou believedst so that thou o'ercamest,
  Towards the sepulchre, more youthful feet,"
Began I, "thou dost wish me in this place
  The form to manifest of my prompt belief,
  And likewise thou the cause thereof demandest.
And I respond: In one God I believe,
  Sole and eterne, who moveth all the heavens
  With love and with desire, himself unmoved;
And of such faith not only have I proofs
  Physical and metaphysical, but gives them
  Likewise the truth that from this place rains down
Through Moses, through the Prophets and the Psalms,
  Through the Evangel, and through you, who wrote
  After the fiery Spirit sanctified you;
In Persons three eterne believe, and these
  One essence I believe, so one and trine
  They bear conjunction both with 'sunt' and 'est.'
With the profound condition and divine
  Which now I touch upon, doth stamp my mind
  Ofttimes the doctrine evangelical.
This the beginning is, this is the spark
  Which afterwards dilates to vivid flame,
  And, like a star in heaven, is sparkling in me."
Even as a lord who hears what pleaseth him
  His servant straight embraces, gratulating
  For the good news as soon as he is silent;
So, giving me its benediction, singing,
  Three times encircled me, when I was silent,
  The apostolic light, at whose command
I spoken had, in speaking I so pleased him.
Paradiso: Canto XXV
If e'er it happen that the Poem Sacred,
  To which both heaven and earth have set their hand,
  So that it many a year hath made me lean,
O'ercome the cruelty that bars me out
  From the fair sheepfold, where a lamb I slumbered,
  An enemy to the wolves that war upon it,
With other voice forthwith, with other fleece
  Poet will I return, and at my font
  Baptismal will I take the laurel crown;
Because into the Faith that maketh known
  All souls to God there entered I, and then
  Peter for her sake thus my brow encircled.
Thereafterward towards us moved a light
  Out of that band whence issued the first-fruits
  Which of his vicars Christ behind him left,
And then my Lady, full of ecstasy,
  Said unto me: "Look, look! behold the Baron
  For whom below Galicia is frequented."
In the same way as, when a dove alights
  Near his companion, both of them pour forth,
  Circling about and murmuring, their affection,
So one beheld I by the other grand
  Prince glorified to be with welcome greeted,
  Lauding the food that there above is eaten.
But when their gratulations were complete,
  Silently 'coram me' each one stood still,
  So incandescent it o'ercame my sight.
Smiling thereafterwards, said Beatrice:
  "Illustrious life, by whom the benefactions
  Of our Basilica have been described,
Make Hope resound within this altitude;
  Thou knowest as oft thou dost personify it
  As Jesus to the three gave greater clearness."--
"Lift up thy head, and make thyself assured;
  For what comes hither from the mortal world
  Must needs be ripened in our radiance."
This comfort came to me from the second fire;
  Wherefore mine eyes I lifted to the hills,
  Which bent them down before with too great weight.
"Since, through his grace, our Emperor wills that thou
  Shouldst find thee face to face, before thy death,
  In the most secret chamber, with his Counts,
So that, the truth beholden of this court,
  Hope, which below there rightfully enamours,
  Thereby thou strengthen in thyself and others,
Say what it is, and how is flowering with it
  Thy mind, and say from whence it came to thee."
  Thus did the second light again continue.
And the Compassionate, who piloted
  The plumage of my wings in such high flight,
  Did in reply anticipate me thus:
"No child whatever the Church Militant
  Of greater hope possesses, as is written
  In that Sun which irradiates all our band;
Therefore it is conceded him from Egypt
  To come into Jerusalem to see,
  Or ever yet his warfare be completed.
The two remaining points, that not for knowledge
  Have been demanded, but that he report
  How much this virtue unto thee is pleasing,
To him I leave; for hard he will not find them,
  Nor of self-praise; and let him answer them;
  And may the grace of God in this assist him!"
As a disciple, who his teacher follows,
  Ready and willing, where he is expert,
  That his proficiency may be displayed,
"Hope," said I, "is the certain expectation
  Of future glory, which is the effect
  Of grace divine and merit precedent.
From many stars this light comes unto me;
  But he instilled it first into my heart
  Who was chief singer unto the chief captain.
'Sperent in te,' in the high Theody
  He sayeth, 'those who know thy name;' and who
  Knoweth it not, if he my faith possess?
Thou didst instil me, then, with his instilling
  In the Epistle, so that I am full,
  And upon others rain again your rain."
While I was speaking, in the living bosom
  Of that combustion quivered an effulgence,
  Sudden and frequent, in the guise of lightning;
Then breathed: "The love wherewith I am inflamed
  Towards the virtue still which followed me
  Unto the palm and issue of the field,
Wills that I breathe to thee that thou delight
  In her; and grateful to me is thy telling
  Whatever things Hope promises to thee."
And I: "The ancient Scriptures and the new
  The mark establish, and this shows it me,
  Of all the souls whom God hath made his friends.
Isaiah saith, that each one garmented
  In his own land shall be with twofold garments,
  And his own land is this delightful life.
Thy brother, too, far more explicitly,
  There where he treateth of the robes of white,
  This revelation manifests to us."
And first, and near the ending of these words,
  "Sperent in te" from over us was heard,
  To which responsive answered all the carols.
Thereafterward a light among them brightened,
  So that, if Cancer one such crystal had,
  Winter would have a month of one sole day.
And as uprises, goes, and enters the dance
  A winsome maiden, only to do honour
  To the new bride, and not from any failing,
Even thus did I behold the brightened splendour
  Approach the two, who in a wheel revolved
  As was beseeming to their ardent love.
Into the song and music there it entered;
  And fixed on them my Lady kept her look,
  Even as a bride silent and motionless.
"This is the one who lay upon the breast
  Of him our Pelican; and this is he
  To the great office from the cross elected."
My Lady thus; but therefore none the more
  Did move her sight from its attentive gaze
  Before or afterward these words of hers.
Even as a man who gazes, and endeavours
  To see the eclipsing of the sun a little,
  And who, by seeing, sightless doth become,
So I became before that latest fire,
  While it was said, "Why dost thou daze thyself
  To see a thing which here hath no existence?
Earth in the earth my body is, and shall be
  With all the others there, until our number
  With the eternal proposition tallies.
With the two garments in the blessed cloister
  Are the two lights alone that have ascended:
  And this shalt thou take back into your world."
And at this utterance the flaming circle
  Grew quiet, with the dulcet intermingling
  Of sound that by the trinal breath was made,
As to escape from danger or fatigue
  The oars that erst were in the water beaten
  Are all suspended at a whistle's sound.
Ah, how much in my mind was I disturbed,
  When I turned round to look on Beatrice,
  That her I could not see, although I was
Close at her side and in the Happy World!
Paradiso: Canto XXVI
While I was doubting for my vision quenched,
  Out of the flame refulgent that had quenched it
  Issued a breathing, that attentive made me,
Saying: "While thou recoverest the sense
  Of seeing which in me thou hast consumed,
  'Tis well that speaking thou shouldst compensate it.
Begin then, and declare to what thy soul
  Is aimed, and count it for a certainty,
  Sight is in thee bewildered and not dead;
Because the Lady, who through this divine
  Region conducteth thee, has in her look
  The power the hand of Ananias had."
I said: "As pleaseth her, or soon or late
  Let the cure come to eyes that portals were
  When she with fire I ever burn with entered.
The Good, that gives contentment to this Court,
  The Alpha and Omega is of all
  The writing that love reads me low or loud."
The selfsame voice, that taken had from me
  The terror of the sudden dazzlement,
  To speak still farther put it in my thought;
And said: "In verity with finer sieve
  Behoveth thee to sift; thee it behoveth
  To say who aimed thy bow at such a target."
And I: "By philosophic arguments,
  And by authority that hence descends,
  Such love must needs imprint itself in me;
For Good, so far as good, when comprehended
  Doth straight enkindle love, and so much greater
  As more of goodness in itself it holds;
Then to that Essence (whose is such advantage
  That every good which out of it is found
  Is nothing but a ray of its own light)
More than elsewhither must the mind be moved
  Of every one, in loving, who discerns
  The truth in which this evidence is founded.
Such truth he to my intellect reveals
  Who demonstrates to me the primal love
  Of all the sempiternal substances.
The voice reveals it of the truthful Author,
  Who says to Moses, speaking of Himself,
  'I will make all my goodness pass before thee.'
Thou too revealest it to me, beginning
  The loud Evangel, that proclaims the secret
  Of heaven to earth above all other edict."
And I heard say: "By human intellect
  And by authority concordant with it,
  Of all thy loves reserve for God the highest.
But say again if other cords thou feelest,
  Draw thee towards Him, that thou mayst proclaim
  With how many teeth this love is biting thee."
The holy purpose of the Eagle of Christ
  Not latent was, nay, rather I perceived
  Whither he fain would my profession lead.
Therefore I recommenced: "All of those bites
  Which have the power to turn the heart to God
  Unto my charity have been concurrent.
The being of the world, and my own being,
  The death which He endured that I may live,
  And that which all the faithful hope, as I do,
With the forementioned vivid consciousness
  Have drawn me from the sea of love perverse,
  And of the right have placed me on the shore.
The leaves, wherewith embowered is all the garden
  Of the Eternal Gardener, do I love
  As much as he has granted them of good."
As soon as I had ceased, a song most sweet
  Throughout the heaven resounded, and my Lady
  Said with the others, "Holy, holy, holy!"
And as at some keen light one wakes from sleep
  By reason of the visual spirit that runs
  Unto the splendour passed from coat to coat,
And he who wakes abhorreth what he sees,
  So all unconscious is his sudden waking,
  Until the judgment cometh to his aid,
So from before mine eyes did Beatrice
  Chase every mote with radiance of her own,
  That cast its light a thousand miles and more.
Whence better after than before I saw,
  And in a kind of wonderment I asked
  About a fourth light that I saw with us.
And said my Lady: "There within those rays
  Gazes upon its Maker the first soul
  That ever the first virtue did create."
Even as the bough that downward bends its top
  At transit of the wind, and then is lifted
  By its own virtue, which inclines it upward,
Likewise did I, the while that she was speaking,
  Being amazed, and then I was made bold
  By a desire to speak wherewith I burned.
And I began: "O apple, that mature
  Alone hast been produced, O ancient father,
  To whom each wife is daughter and daughter-in-law,
Devoutly as I can I supplicate thee
  That thou wouldst speak to me; thou seest my wish;
  And I, to hear thee quickly, speak it not."
Sometimes an animal, when covered, struggles
  So that his impulse needs must be apparent,
  By reason of the wrappage following it;
And in like manner the primeval soul
  Made clear to me athwart its covering
  How jubilant it was to give me pleasure.
Then breathed: "Without thy uttering it to me,
  Thine inclination better I discern
  Than thou whatever thing is surest to thee;
For I behold it in the truthful mirror,
  That of Himself all things parhelion makes,
  And none makes Him parhelion of itself.
Thou fain wouldst hear how long ago God placed me
  Within the lofty garden, where this Lady
  Unto so long a stairway thee disposed.
And how long to mine eyes it was a pleasure,
  And of the great disdain the proper cause,
  And the language that I used and that I made.
Now, son of mine, the tasting of the tree
  Not in itself was cause of so great exile,
  But solely the o'erstepping of the bounds.
There, whence thy Lady moved Virgilius,
  Four thousand and three hundred and two circuits
  Made by the sun, this Council I desired;
And him I saw return to all the lights
  Of his highway nine hundred times and thirty,
  Whilst I upon the earth was tarrying.
The language that I spake was quite extinct
  Before that in the work interminable
  The people under Nimrod were employed;
For nevermore result of reasoning
  (Because of human pleasure that doth change,
  Obedient to the heavens) was durable.
A natural action is it that man speaks;
  But whether thus or thus, doth nature leave
  To your own art, as seemeth best to you.
Ere I descended to the infernal anguish,
  'El' was on earth the name of the Chief Good,
  From whom comes all the joy that wraps me round
'Eli' he then was called, and that is proper,
  Because the use of men is like a leaf
  On bough, which goeth and another cometh.
Upon the mount that highest o'er the wave
  Rises was I, in life or pure or sinful,
  From the first hour to that which is the second,
As the sun changes quadrant, to the sixth."
Paradiso: Canto XXVII
"Glory be to the Father, to the Son,
  And Holy Ghost!" all Paradise began,
  So that the melody inebriate made me.
What I beheld seemed unto me a smile
  Of the universe; for my inebriation
  Found entrance through the hearing and the sight.
O joy!  O gladness inexpressible!
  O perfect life of love and peacefulness!
  O riches without hankering secure!
Before mine eyes were standing the four torches
  Enkindled, and the one that first had come
  Began to make itself more luminous;
And even such in semblance it became
  As Jupiter would become, if he and Mars
  Were birds, and they should interchange their feathers.
That Providence, which here distributeth
  Season and service, in the blessed choir
  Had silence upon every side imposed.
When I heard say: "If I my colour change,
  Marvel not at it; for while I am speaking
  Thou shalt behold all these their colour change.
He who usurps upon the earth my place,
  My place, my place, which vacant has become
  Before the presence of the Son of God,
Has of my cemetery made a sewer
  Of blood and stench, whereby the Perverse One,
  Who fell from here, below there is appeased!"
With the same colour which, through sun adverse,
  Painteth the clouds at evening or at morn,
  Beheld I then the whole of heaven suffused.
And as a modest woman, who abides
  Sure of herself, and at another's failing,
  From listening only, timorous becomes,
Even thus did Beatrice change countenance;
  And I believe in heaven was such eclipse,
  When suffered the supreme Omnipotence;
Thereafterward proceeded forth his words
  With voice so much transmuted from itself,
  The very countenance was not more changed.
"The spouse of Christ has never nurtured been
  On blood of mine, of Linus and of Cletus,
  To be made use of in acquest of gold;
But in acquest of this delightful life
  Sixtus and Pius, Urban and Calixtus,
  After much lamentation, shed their blood.
Our purpose was not, that on the right hand
  Of our successors should in part be seated
  The Christian folk, in part upon the other;
Nor that the keys which were to me confided
  Should e'er become the escutcheon on a banner,
  That should wage war on those who are baptized;
Nor I be made the figure of a seal
  To privileges venal and mendacious,
  Whereat I often redden and flash with fire.
In garb of shepherds the rapacious wolves
  Are seen from here above o'er all the pastures!
  O wrath of God, why dost thou slumber still?
To drink our blood the Caorsines and Gascons
  Are making ready.  O thou good beginning,
  Unto how vile an end must thou needs fall!
But the high Providence, that with Scipio
  At Rome the glory of the world defended,
  Will speedily bring aid, as I conceive;
And thou, my son, who by thy mortal weight
  Shalt down return again, open thy mouth;
  What I conceal not, do not thou conceal."
As with its frozen vapours downward falls
  In flakes our atmosphere, what time the horn
  Of the celestial Goat doth touch the sun,
Upward in such array saw I the ether
  Become, and flaked with the triumphant vapours,
  Which there together with us had remained.
My sight was following up their semblances,
  And followed till the medium, by excess,
  The passing farther onward took from it;
Whereat the Lady, who beheld me freed
  From gazing upward, said to me: "Cast down
  Thy sight, and see how far thou art turned round."
Since the first time that I had downward looked,
  I saw that I had moved through the whole arc
  Which the first climate makes from midst to end;
So that I saw the mad track of Ulysses
  Past Gades, and this side, well nigh the shore
  Whereon became Europa a sweet burden.
And of this threshing-floor the site to me
  Were more unveiled, but the sun was proceeding
  Under my feet, a sign and more removed.
My mind enamoured, which is dallying
  At all times with my Lady, to bring back
  To her mine eyes was more than ever ardent.
And if or Art or Nature has made bait
  To catch the eyes and so possess the mind,
  In human flesh or in its portraiture,
All joined together would appear as nought
  To the divine delight which shone upon me
  When to her smiling face I turned me round.
The virtue that her look endowed me with
  From the fair nest of Leda tore me forth,
  And up into the swiftest heaven impelled me.
Its parts exceeding full of life and lofty
  Are all so uniform, I cannot say
  Which Beatrice selected for my place.
But she, who was aware of my desire,
  Began, the while she smiled so joyously
  That God seemed in her countenance to rejoice:
"The nature of that motion, which keeps quiet
  The centre and all the rest about it moves,
  From hence begins as from its starting point.
And in this heaven there is no other Where
  Than in the Mind Divine, wherein is kindled
  The love that turns it, and the power it rains.
Within a circle light and love embrace it,
  Even as this doth the others, and that precinct
  He who encircles it alone controls.
Its motion is not by another meted,
  But all the others measured are by this,
  As ten is by the half and by the fifth.
And in what manner time in such a pot
  May have its roots, and in the rest its leaves,
  Now unto thee can manifest be made.
O Covetousness, that mortals dost ingulf
  Beneath thee so, that no one hath the power
  Of drawing back his eyes from out thy waves!
Full fairly blossoms in mankind the will;
  But the uninterrupted rain converts
  Into abortive wildings the true plums.
Fidelity and innocence are found
  Only in children; afterwards they both
  Take flight or e'er the cheeks with down are covered.
One, while he prattles still, observes the fasts,
  Who, when his tongue is loosed, forthwith devours
  Whatever food under whatever moon;
Another, while he prattles, loves and listens
  Unto his mother, who when speech is perfect
  Forthwith desires to see her in her grave.
Even thus is swarthy made the skin so white
  In its first aspect of the daughter fair
  Of him who brings the morn, and leaves the night.
Thou, that it may not be a marvel to thee,
  Think that on earth there is no one who governs;
  Whence goes astray the human family.
Ere January be unwintered wholly
  By the centesimal on earth neglected,
  Shall these supernal circles roar so loud
The tempest that has been so long awaited
  Shall whirl the poops about where are the prows;
  So that the fleet shall run its course direct,
And the true fruit shall follow on the flower."
Paradiso: Canto XXVIII
After the truth against the present life
  Of miserable mortals was unfolded
  By her who doth imparadise my mind,
As in a looking-glass a taper's flame
  He sees who from behind is lighted by it,
  Before he has it in his sight or thought,
And turns him round to see if so the glass
  Tell him the truth, and sees that it accords
  Therewith as doth a music with its metre,
In similar wise my memory recollecteth
  That I did, looking into those fair eyes,
  Of which Love made the springes to ensnare me.
And as I turned me round, and mine were touched
  By that which is apparent in that volume,
  Whenever on its gyre we gaze intent,
A point beheld I, that was raying out
  Light so acute, the sight which it enkindles
  Must close perforce before such great acuteness.
And whatsoever star seems smallest here
  Would seem to be a moon, if placed beside it.
  As one star with another star is placed.
Perhaps at such a distance as appears
  A halo cincturing the light that paints it,
  When densest is the vapour that sustains it,
Thus distant round the point a circle of fire
  So swiftly whirled, that it would have surpassed
  Whatever motion soonest girds the world;
And this was by another circumcinct,
  That by a third, the third then by a fourth,
  By a fifth the fourth, and then by a sixth the fifth;
The seventh followed thereupon in width
  So ample now, that Juno's messenger
  Entire would be too narrow to contain it.
Even so the eighth and ninth; and every one
  More slowly moved, according as it was
  In number distant farther from the first.
And that one had its flame most crystalline
  From which less distant was the stainless spark,
  I think because more with its truth imbued.
My Lady, who in my anxiety
  Beheld me much perplexed, said: "From that point
  Dependent is the heaven and nature all.
Behold that circle most conjoined to it,
  And know thou, that its motion is so swift
  Through burning love whereby it is spurred on."
And I to her: "If the world were arranged
  In the order which I see in yonder wheels,
  What's set before me would have satisfied me;
But in the world of sense we can perceive
  That evermore the circles are diviner
  As they are from the centre more remote
Wherefore if my desire is to be ended
  In this miraculous and angelic temple,
  That has for confines only love and light,
To hear behoves me still how the example
  And the exemplar go not in one fashion,
  Since for myself in vain I contemplate it."
"If thine own fingers unto such a knot
  Be insufficient, it is no great wonder,
  So hard hath it become for want of trying."
My Lady thus; then said she: "Do thou take
  What I shall tell thee, if thou wouldst be sated,
  And exercise on that thy subtlety.
The circles corporal are wide and narrow
  According to the more or less of virtue
  Which is distributed through all their parts.
The greater goodness works the greater weal,
  The greater weal the greater body holds,
  If perfect equally are all its parts.
Therefore this one which sweeps along with it
  The universe sublime, doth correspond
  Unto the circle which most loves and knows.
On which account, if thou unto the virtue
  Apply thy measure, not to the appearance
  Of substances that unto thee seem round,
Thou wilt behold a marvellous agreement,
  Of more to greater, and of less to smaller,
  In every heaven, with its Intelligence."
Even as remaineth splendid and serene
  The hemisphere of air, when Boreas
  Is blowing from that cheek where he is mildest,
Because is purified and resolved the rack
  That erst disturbed it, till the welkin laughs
  With all the beauties of its pageantry;
Thus did I likewise, after that my Lady
  Had me provided with her clear response,
  And like a star in heaven the truth was seen.
And soon as to a stop her words had come,
  Not otherwise does iron scintillate
  When molten, than those circles scintillated.
Their coruscation all the sparks repeated,
  And they so many were, their number makes
  More millions than the doubling of the chess.
I heard them sing hosanna choir by choir
  To the fixed point which holds them at the 'Ubi,'
  And ever will, where they have ever been.
And she, who saw the dubious meditations
  Within my mind, "The primal circles," said,
  "Have shown thee Seraphim and Cherubim.
Thus rapidly they follow their own bonds,
  To be as like the point as most they can,
  And can as far as they are high in vision.
Those other Loves, that round about them go,
  Thrones of the countenance divine are called,
  Because they terminate the primal Triad.
And thou shouldst know that they all have delight
  As much as their own vision penetrates
  The Truth, in which all intellect finds rest.
From this it may be seen how blessedness
  Is founded in the faculty which sees,
  And not in that which loves, and follows next;
And of this seeing merit is the measure,
  Which is brought forth by grace, and by good will;
  Thus on from grade to grade doth it proceed.
The second Triad, which is germinating
  In such wise in this sempiternal spring,
  That no nocturnal Aries despoils,
Perpetually hosanna warbles forth
  With threefold melody, that sounds in three
  Orders of joy, with which it is intrined.
The three Divine are in this hierarchy,
  First the Dominions, and the Virtues next;
  And the third order is that of the Powers.
Then in the dances twain penultimate
  The Principalities and Archangels wheel;
  The last is wholly of angelic sports.
These orders upward all of them are gazing,
  And downward so prevail, that unto God
  They all attracted are and all attract.
And Dionysius with so great desire
  To contemplate these Orders set himself,
  He named them and distinguished them as I do.
But Gregory afterwards dissented from him;
  Wherefore, as soon as he unclosed his eyes
  Within this heaven, he at himself did smile.
And if so much of secret truth a mortal
  Proffered on earth, I would not have thee marvel,
  For he who saw it here revealed it to him,
With much more of the truth about these circles."
Paradiso: Canto XXIX
At what time both the children of Latona,
  Surmounted by the Ram and by the Scales,
  Together make a zone of the horizon,
As long as from the time the zenith holds them
  In equipoise, till from that girdle both
  Changing their hemisphere disturb the balance,
So long, her face depicted with a smile,
  Did Beatrice keep silence while she gazed
  Fixedly at the point which had o'ercome me.
Then she began: "I say, and I ask not
  What thou dost wish to hear, for I have seen it
  Where centres every When and every 'Ubi.'
Not to acquire some good unto himself,
  Which is impossible, but that his splendour
  In its resplendency may say, 'Subsisto,'
In his eternity outside of time,
  Outside all other limits, as it pleased him,
  Into new Loves the Eternal Love unfolded.
Nor as if torpid did he lie before;
  For neither after nor before proceeded
  The going forth of God upon these waters.
Matter and Form unmingled and conjoined
  Came into being that had no defect,
  E'en as three arrows from a three-stringed bow.
And as in glass, in amber, or in crystal
  A sunbeam flashes so, that from its coming
  To its full being is no interval,
So from its Lord did the triform effect
  Ray forth into its being all together,
  Without discrimination of beginning.
Order was con-created and constructed
  In substances, and summit of the world
  Were those wherein the pure act was produced.
Pure potentiality held the lowest part;
  Midway bound potentiality with act
  Such bond that it shall never be unbound.
Jerome has written unto you of angels
  Created a long lapse of centuries
  Or ever yet the other world was made;
But written is this truth in many places
  By writers of the Holy Ghost, and thou
  Shalt see it, if thou lookest well thereat.
And even reason seeth it somewhat,
  For it would not concede that for so long
  Could be the motors without their perfection.
Now dost thou know both where and when these Loves
  Created were, and how; so that extinct
  In thy desire already are three fires.
Nor could one reach, in counting, unto twenty
  So swiftly, as a portion of these angels
  Disturbed the subject of your elements.
The rest remained, and they began this art
  Which thou discernest, with so great delight
  That never from their circling do they cease.
The occasion of the fall was the accursed
  Presumption of that One, whom thou hast seen
  By all the burden of the world constrained.
Those whom thou here beholdest modest were
  To recognise themselves as of that goodness
  Which made them apt for so much understanding;
On which account their vision was exalted
  By the enlightening grace and their own merit,
  So that they have a full and steadfast will.
I would not have thee doubt, but certain be,
  'Tis meritorious to receive this grace,
  According as the affection opens to it.
Now round about in this consistory
  Much mayst thou contemplate, if these my words
  Be gathered up, without all further aid.
But since upon the earth, throughout your schools,
  They teach that such is the angelic nature
  That it doth hear, and recollect, and will,
More will I say, that thou mayst see unmixed
  The truth that is confounded there below,
  Equivocating in such like prelections.
These substances, since in God's countenance
  They jocund were, turned not away their sight
  From that wherefrom not anything is hidden;
Hence they have not their vision intercepted
  By object new, and hence they do not need
  To recollect, through interrupted thought.
So that below, not sleeping, people dream,
  Believing they speak truth, and not believing;
  And in the last is greater sin and shame.
Below you do not journey by one path
  Philosophising; so transporteth you
  Love of appearance and the thought thereof.
And even this above here is endured
  With less disdain, than when is set aside
  The Holy Writ, or when it is distorted.
They think not there how much of blood it costs
  To sow it in the world, and how he pleases
  Who in humility keeps close to it.
Each striveth for appearance, and doth make
  His own inventions; and these treated are
  By preachers, and the Evangel holds its peace.
One sayeth that the moon did backward turn,
  In the Passion of Christ, and interpose herself
  So that the sunlight reached not down below;
And lies; for of its own accord the light
  Hid itself; whence to Spaniards and to Indians,
  As to the Jews, did such eclipse respond.
Florence has not so many Lapi and Bindi
  As fables such as these, that every year
  Are shouted from the pulpit back and forth,
In such wise that the lambs, who do not know,
  Come back from pasture fed upon the wind,
  And not to see the harm doth not excuse them.
Christ did not to his first disciples say,
  'Go forth, and to the world preach idle tales,'
  But unto them a true foundation gave;
And this so loudly sounded from their lips,
  That, in the warfare to enkindle Faith,
  They made of the Evangel shields and lances.
Now men go forth with jests and drolleries
  To preach, and if but well the people laugh,
  The hood puffs out, and nothing more is asked.
But in the cowl there nestles such a bird,
  That, if the common people were to see it,
  They would perceive what pardons they confide in,
For which so great on earth has grown the folly,
  That, without proof of any testimony,
  To each indulgence they would flock together.
By this Saint Anthony his pig doth fatten,
  And many others, who are worse than pigs,
  Paying in money without mark of coinage.
But since we have digressed abundantly,
  Turn back thine eyes forthwith to the right path,
  So that the way be shortened with the time.
This nature doth so multiply itself
  In numbers, that there never yet was speech
  Nor mortal fancy that can go so far.
And if thou notest that which is revealed
  By Daniel, thou wilt see that in his thousands
  Number determinate is kept concealed.
The primal light, that all irradiates it,
  By modes as many is received therein,
  As are the splendours wherewith it is mated.
Hence, inasmuch as on the act conceptive
  The affection followeth, of love the sweetness
  Therein diversely fervid is or tepid.
The height behold now and the amplitude
  Of the eternal power, since it hath made
  Itself so many mirrors, where 'tis broken,
One in itself remaining as before."
Paradiso: Canto XXX
Perchance six thousand miles remote from us
  Is glowing the sixth hour, and now this world
  Inclines its shadow almost to a level,
When the mid-heaven begins to make itself
  So deep to us, that here and there a star
  Ceases to shine so far down as this depth,
And as advances bright exceedingly
  The handmaid of the sun, the heaven is closed
  Light after light to the most beautiful;
Not otherwise the Triumph, which for ever
  Plays round about the point that vanquished me,
  Seeming enclosed by what itself encloses,
Little by little from my vision faded;
  Whereat to turn mine eyes on Beatrice
  My seeing nothing and my love constrained me.
If what has hitherto been said of her
  Were all concluded in a single praise,
  Scant would it be to serve the present turn.
Not only does the beauty I beheld
  Transcend ourselves, but truly I believe
  Its Maker only may enjoy it all.
Vanquished do I confess me by this passage
  More than by problem of his theme was ever
  O'ercome the comic or the tragic poet;
For as the sun the sight that trembles most,
  Even so the memory of that sweet smile
  My mind depriveth of its very self.
From the first day that I beheld her face
  In this life, to the moment of this look,
  The sequence of my song has ne'er been severed;
But now perforce this sequence must desist
  From following her beauty with my verse,
  As every artist at his uttermost.
Such as I leave her to a greater fame
  Than any of my trumpet, which is bringing
  Its arduous matter to a final close,
With voice and gesture of a perfect leader
  She recommenced: "We from the greatest body
  Have issued to the heaven that is pure light;
Light intellectual replete with love,
  Love of true good replete with ecstasy,
  Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness.
Here shalt thou see the one host and the other
  Of Paradise, and one in the same aspects
  Which at the final judgment thou shalt see."
Even as a sudden lightning that disperses
  The visual spirits, so that it deprives
  The eye of impress from the strongest objects,
Thus round about me flashed a living light,
  And left me swathed around with such a veil
  Of its effulgence, that I nothing saw.
"Ever the Love which quieteth this heaven
  Welcomes into itself with such salute,
  To make the candle ready for its flame."
No sooner had within me these brief words
  An entrance found, than I perceived myself
  To be uplifted over my own power,
And I with vision new rekindled me,
  Such that no light whatever is so pure
  But that mine eyes were fortified against it.
And light I saw in fashion of a river
  Fulvid with its effulgence, 'twixt two banks
  Depicted with an admirable Spring.
Out of this river issued living sparks,
  And on all sides sank down into the flowers,
  Like unto rubies that are set in gold;
And then, as if inebriate with the odours,
  They plunged again into the wondrous torrent,
  And as one entered issued forth another.
"The high desire, that now inflames and moves thee
  To have intelligence of what thou seest,
  Pleaseth me all the more, the more it swells.
But of this water it behoves thee drink
  Before so great a thirst in thee be slaked."
  Thus said to me the sunshine of mine eyes;
And added: "The river and the topazes
  Going in and out, and the laughing of the herbage,
  Are of their truth foreshadowing prefaces;
Not that these things are difficult in themselves,
  But the deficiency is on thy side,
  For yet thou hast not vision so exalted."
There is no babe that leaps so suddenly
  With face towards the milk, if he awake
  Much later than his usual custom is,
As I did, that I might make better mirrors
  Still of mine eyes, down stooping to the wave
  Which flows that we therein be better made.
And even as the penthouse of mine eyelids
  Drank of it, it forthwith appeared to me
  Out of its length to be transformed to round.
Then as a folk who have been under masks
  Seem other than before, if they divest
  The semblance not their own they disappeared in,
Thus into greater pomp were changed for me
  The flowerets and the sparks, so that I saw
  Both of the Courts of Heaven made manifest.
O splendour of God! by means of which I saw
  The lofty triumph of the realm veracious,
  Give me the power to say how it I saw!
There is a light above, which visible
  Makes the Creator unto every creature,
  Who only in beholding Him has peace,
And it expands itself in circular form
  To such extent, that its circumference
  Would be too large a girdle for the sun.
The semblance of it is all made of rays
  Reflected from the top of Primal Motion,
  Which takes therefrom vitality and power.
And as a hill in water at its base
  Mirrors itself, as if to see its beauty
  When affluent most in verdure and in flowers,
So, ranged aloft all round about the light,
  Mirrored I saw in more ranks than a thousand
  All who above there have from us returned.
And if the lowest row collect within it
  So great a light, how vast the amplitude
  Is of this Rose in its extremest leaves!
My vision in the vastness and the height
  Lost not itself, but comprehended all
  The quantity and quality of that gladness.
There near and far nor add nor take away;
  For there where God immediately doth govern,
  The natural law in naught is relevant.
Into the yellow of the Rose Eternal
  That spreads, and multiplies, and breathes an odour
  Of praise unto the ever-vernal Sun,
As one who silent is and fain would speak,
  Me Beatrice drew on, and said: "Behold
  Of the white stoles how vast the convent is!
Behold how vast the circuit of our city!
  Behold our seats so filled to overflowing,
  That here henceforward are few people wanting!
On that great throne whereon thine eyes are fixed
  For the crown's sake already placed upon it,
  Before thou suppest at this wedding feast
Shall sit the soul (that is to be Augustus
  On earth) of noble Henry, who shall come
  To redress Italy ere she be ready.
Blind covetousness, that casts its spell upon you,
  Has made you like unto the little child,
  Who dies of hunger and drives off the nurse.
And in the sacred forum then shall be
  A Prefect such, that openly or covert
  On the same road he will not walk with him.
But long of God he will not be endured
  In holy office; he shall be thrust down
  Where Simon Magus is for his deserts,
And make him of Alagna lower go!"
Paradiso: Canto XXXI
In fashion then as of a snow-white rose
  Displayed itself to me the saintly host,
  Whom Christ in his own blood had made his bride,
But the other host, that flying sees and sings
  The glory of Him who doth enamour it,
  And the goodness that created it so noble,
Even as a swarm of bees, that sinks in flowers
  One moment, and the next returns again
  To where its labour is to sweetness turned,
Sank into the great flower, that is adorned
  With leaves so many, and thence reascended
  To where its love abideth evermore.
Their faces had they all of living flame,
  And wings of gold, and all the rest so white
  No snow unto that limit doth attain.
From bench to bench, into the flower descending,
  They carried something of the peace and ardour
  Which by the fanning of their flanks they won.
Nor did the interposing 'twixt the flower
  And what was o'er it of such plenitude
  Of flying shapes impede the sight and splendour;
Because the light divine so penetrates
  The universe, according to its merit,
  That naught can be an obstacle against it.
This realm secure and full of gladsomeness,
  Crowded with ancient people and with modern,
  Unto one mark had all its look and love.
O Trinal Light, that in a single star
  Sparkling upon their sight so satisfies them,
  Look down upon our tempest here below!
If the barbarians, coming from some region
  That every day by Helice is covered,
  Revolving with her son whom she delights in,
Beholding Rome and all her noble works,
  Were wonder-struck, what time the Lateran
  Above all mortal things was eminent,--
I who to the divine had from the human,
  From time unto eternity, had come,
  From Florence to a people just and sane,
With what amazement must I have been filled!
  Truly between this and the joy, it was
  My pleasure not to hear, and to be mute.
And as a pilgrim who delighteth him
  In gazing round the temple of his vow,
  And hopes some day to retell how it was,
So through the living light my way pursuing
  Directed I mine eyes o'er all the ranks,
  Now up, now down, and now all round about.
Faces I saw of charity persuasive,
  Embellished by His light and their own smile,
  And attitudes adorned with every grace.
The general form of Paradise already
  My glance had comprehended as a whole,
  In no part hitherto remaining fixed,
And round I turned me with rekindled wish
  My Lady to interrogate of things
  Concerning which my mind was in suspense.
One thing I meant, another answered me;
  I thought I should see Beatrice, and saw
  An Old Man habited like the glorious people.
O'erflowing was he in his eyes and cheeks
  With joy benign, in attitude of pity
  As to a tender father is becoming.
And "She, where is she?" instantly I said;
  Whence he: "To put an end to thy desire,
  Me Beatrice hath sent from mine own place.
And if thou lookest up to the third round
  Of the first rank, again shalt thou behold her
  Upon the throne her merits have assigned her."
Without reply I lifted up mine eyes,
  And saw her, as she made herself a crown
  Reflecting from herself the eternal rays.
Not from that region which the highest thunders
  Is any mortal eye so far removed,
  In whatsoever sea it deepest sinks,
As there from Beatrice my sight; but this
  Was nothing unto me; because her image
  Descended not to me by medium blurred.
"O Lady, thou in whom my hope is strong,
  And who for my salvation didst endure
  In Hell to leave the imprint of thy feet,
Of whatsoever things I have beheld,
  As coming from thy power and from thy goodness
  I recognise the virtue and the grace.
Thou from a slave hast brought me unto freedom,
  By all those ways, by all the expedients,
  Whereby thou hadst the power of doing it.
Preserve towards me thy magnificence,
  So that this soul of mine, which thou hast healed,
  Pleasing to thee be loosened from the body."
Thus I implored; and she, so far away,
  Smiled, as it seemed, and looked once more at me;
  Then unto the eternal fountain turned.
And said the Old Man holy: "That thou mayst
  Accomplish perfectly thy journeying,
  Whereunto prayer and holy love have sent me,
Fly with thine eyes all round about this garden;
  For seeing it will discipline thy sight
  Farther to mount along the ray divine.
And she, the Queen of Heaven, for whom I burn
  Wholly with love, will grant us every grace,
  Because that I her faithful Bernard am."
As he who peradventure from Croatia
  Cometh to gaze at our Veronica,
  Who through its ancient fame is never sated,
But says in thought, the while it is displayed,
  "My Lord, Christ Jesus, God of very God,
  Now was your semblance made like unto this?"
Even such was I while gazing at the living
  Charity of the man, who in this world
  By contemplation tasted of that peace.
"Thou son of grace, this jocund life," began he,
  "Will not be known to thee by keeping ever
  Thine eyes below here on the lowest place;
But mark the circles to the most remote,
  Until thou shalt behold enthroned the Queen
  To whom this realm is subject and devoted."
I lifted up mine eyes, and as at morn
  The oriental part of the horizon
  Surpasses that wherein the sun goes down,
Thus, as if going with mine eyes from vale
  To mount, I saw a part in the remoteness
  Surpass in splendour all the other front.
And even as there where we await the pole
  That Phaeton drove badly, blazes more
  The light, and is on either side diminished,
So likewise that pacific oriflamme
  Gleamed brightest in the centre, and each side
  In equal measure did the flame abate.
And at that centre, with their wings expanded,
  More than a thousand jubilant Angels saw I,
  Each differing in effulgence and in kind.
I saw there at their sports and at their songs
  A beauty smiling, which the gladness was
  Within the eyes of all the other saints;
And if I had in speaking as much wealth
  As in imagining, I should not dare
  To attempt the smallest part of its delight.
Bernard, as soon as he beheld mine eyes
  Fixed and intent upon its fervid fervour,
  His own with such affection turned to her
That it made mine more ardent to behold.
Paradiso: Canto XXXII
Absorbed in his delight, that contemplator
  Assumed the willing office of a teacher,
  And gave beginning to these holy words:
"The wound that Mary closed up and anointed,
  She at her feet who is so beautiful,
  She is the one who opened it and pierced it.
Within that order which the third seats make
  Is seated Rachel, lower than the other,
  With Beatrice, in manner as thou seest.
Sarah, Rebecca, Judith, and her who was
  Ancestress of the Singer, who for dole
  Of the misdeed said, 'Miserere mei,'
Canst thou behold from seat to seat descending
  Down in gradation, as with each one's name
  I through the Rose go down from leaf to leaf.
And downward from the seventh row, even as
  Above the same, succeed the Hebrew women,
  Dividing all the tresses of the flower;
Because, according to the view which Faith
  In Christ had taken, these are the partition
  By which the sacred stairways are divided.
Upon this side, where perfect is the flower
  With each one of its petals, seated are
  Those who believed in Christ who was to come.
Upon the other side, where intersected
  With vacant spaces are the semicircles,
  Are those who looked to Christ already come.
And as, upon this side, the glorious seat
  Of the Lady of Heaven, and the other seats
  Below it, such a great division make,
So opposite doth that of the great John,
  Who, ever holy, desert and martyrdom
  Endured, and afterwards two years in Hell.
And under him thus to divide were chosen
  Francis, and Benedict, and Augustine,
  And down to us the rest from round to round.
Behold now the high providence divine;
  For one and other aspect of the Faith
  In equal measure shall this garden fill.
And know that downward from that rank which cleaves
  Midway the sequence of the two divisions,
  Not by their proper merit are they seated;
But by another's under fixed conditions;
  For these are spirits one and all assoiled
  Before they any true election had.
Well canst thou recognise it in their faces,
  And also in their voices puerile,
  If thou regard them well and hearken to them.
Now doubtest thou, and doubting thou art silent;
  But I will loosen for thee the strong bond
  In which thy subtile fancies hold thee fast.
Within the amplitude of this domain
  No casual point can possibly find place,
  No more than sadness can, or thirst, or hunger;
For by eternal law has been established
  Whatever thou beholdest, so that closely
  The ring is fitted to the finger here.
And therefore are these people, festinate
  Unto true life, not 'sine causa' here
  More and less excellent among themselves.
The King, by means of whom this realm reposes
  In so great love and in so great delight
  That no will ventureth to ask for more,
In his own joyous aspect every mind
  Creating, at his pleasure dowers with grace
  Diversely; and let here the effect suffice.
And this is clearly and expressly noted
  For you in Holy Scripture, in those twins
  Who in their mother had their anger roused.
According to the colour of the hair,
  Therefore, with such a grace the light supreme
  Consenteth that they worthily be crowned.
Without, then, any merit of their deeds,
  Stationed are they in different gradations,
  Differing only in their first acuteness.
'Tis true that in the early centuries,
  With innocence, to work out their salvation
  Sufficient was the faith of parents only.
After the earlier ages were completed,
  Behoved it that the males by circumcision
  Unto their innocent wings should virtue add;
But after that the time of grace had come
  Without the baptism absolute of Christ,
  Such innocence below there was retained.
Look now into the face that unto Christ
  Hath most resemblance; for its brightness only
  Is able to prepare thee to see Christ."
On her did I behold so great a gladness
  Rain down, borne onward in the holy minds
  Created through that altitude to fly,
That whatsoever I had seen before
  Did not suspend me in such admiration,
  Nor show me such similitude of God.
And the same Love that first descended there,
  "Ave Maria, gratia plena," singing,
  In front of her his wings expanded wide.
Unto the canticle divine responded
  From every part the court beatified,
  So that each sight became serener for it.
"O holy father, who for me endurest
  To be below here, leaving the sweet place
  In which thou sittest by eternal lot,
Who is the Angel that with so much joy
  Into the eyes is looking of our Queen,
  Enamoured so that he seems made of fire?"
Thus I again recourse had to the teaching
  Of that one who delighted him in Mary
  As doth the star of morning in the sun.
And he to me: "Such gallantry and grace
  As there can be in Angel and in soul,
  All is in him; and thus we fain would have it;
Because he is the one who bore the palm
  Down unto Mary, when the Son of God
  To take our burden on himself decreed.
But now come onward with thine eyes, as I
  Speaking shall go, and note the great patricians
  Of this most just and merciful of empires.
Those two that sit above there most enrapture
  As being very near unto Augusta,
  Are as it were the two roots of this Rose.
He who upon the left is near her placed
  The father is, by whose audacious taste
  The human species so much bitter tastes.
Upon the right thou seest that ancient father
  Of Holy Church, into whose keeping Christ
  The keys committed of this lovely flower.
And he who all the evil days beheld,
  Before his death, of her the beauteous bride
  Who with the spear and with the nails was won,
Beside him sits, and by the other rests
  That leader under whom on manna lived
  The people ingrate, fickle, and stiff-necked.
Opposite Peter seest thou Anna seated,
  So well content to look upon her daughter,
  Her eyes she moves not while she sings Hosanna.
And opposite the eldest household father
  Lucia sits, she who thy Lady moved
  When to rush downward thou didst bend thy brows.
But since the moments of thy vision fly,
  Here will we make full stop, as a good tailor
  Who makes the gown according to his cloth,
And unto the first Love will turn our eyes,
  That looking upon Him thou penetrate
  As far as possible through his effulgence.
Truly, lest peradventure thou recede,
  Moving thy wings believing to advance,
  By prayer behoves it that grace be obtained;
Grace from that one who has the power to aid thee;
  And thou shalt follow me with thy affection
  That from my words thy heart turn not aside."
And he began this holy orison.
Paradiso: Canto XXXIII
"Thou Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son,
  Humble and high beyond all other creature,
  The limit fixed of the eternal counsel,
Thou art the one who such nobility
  To human nature gave, that its Creator
  Did not disdain to make himself its creature.
Within thy womb rekindled was the love,
  By heat of which in the eternal peace
  After such wise this flower has germinated.
Here unto us thou art a noonday torch
  Of charity, and below there among mortals
  Thou art the living fountain-head of hope.
Lady, thou art so great, and so prevailing,
  That he who wishes grace, nor runs to thee,
  His aspirations without wings would fly.
Not only thy benignity gives succour
  To him who asketh it, but oftentimes
  Forerunneth of its own accord the asking.
In thee compassion is, in thee is pity,
  In thee magnificence; in thee unites
  Whate'er of goodness is in any creature.
Now doth this man, who from the lowest depth
  Of the universe as far as here has seen
  One after one the spiritual lives,
Supplicate thee through grace for so much power
  That with his eyes he may uplift himself
  Higher towards the uttermost salvation.
And I, who never burned for my own seeing
  More than I do for his, all of my prayers
  Proffer to thee, and pray they come not short,
That thou wouldst scatter from him every cloud
  Of his mortality so with thy prayers,
  That the Chief Pleasure be to him displayed.
Still farther do I pray thee, Queen, who canst
  Whate'er thou wilt, that sound thou mayst preserve
  After so great a vision his affections.
Let thy protection conquer human movements;
  See Beatrice and all the blessed ones
  My prayers to second clasp their hands to thee!"
The eyes beloved and revered of God,
  Fastened upon the speaker, showed to us
  How grateful unto her are prayers devout;
Then unto the Eternal Light they turned,
  On which it is not credible could be
  By any creature bent an eye so clear.
And I, who to the end of all desires
  Was now approaching, even as I ought
  The ardour of desire within me ended.
Bernard was beckoning unto me, and smiling,
  That I should upward look; but I already
  Was of my own accord such as he wished;
Because my sight, becoming purified,
  Was entering more and more into the ray
  Of the High Light which of itself is true.
From that time forward what I saw was greater
  Than our discourse, that to such vision yields,
  And yields the memory unto such excess.
Even as he is who seeth in a dream,
  And after dreaming the imprinted passion
  Remains, and to his mind the rest returns not,
Even such am I, for almost utterly
  Ceases my vision, and distilleth yet
  Within my heart the sweetness born of it;
Even thus the snow is in the sun unsealed,
  Even thus upon the wind in the light leaves
  Were the soothsayings of the Sibyl lost.
O Light Supreme, that dost so far uplift thee
  From the conceits of mortals, to my mind
  Of what thou didst appear re-lend a little,
And make my tongue of so great puissance,
  That but a single sparkle of thy glory
  It may bequeath unto the future people;
For by returning to my memory somewhat,
  And by a little sounding in these verses,
  More of thy victory shall be conceived!
I think the keenness of the living ray
  Which I endured would have bewildered me,
  If but mine eyes had been averted from it;
And I remember that I was more bold
  On this account to bear, so that I joined
  My aspect with the Glory Infinite.
O grace abundant, by which I presumed
  To fix my sight upon the Light Eternal,
  So that the seeing I consumed therein!
I saw that in its depth far down is lying
  Bound up with love together in one volume,
  What through the universe in leaves is scattered;
Substance, and accident, and their operations,
  All interfused together in such wise
  That what I speak of is one simple light.
The universal fashion of this knot
  Methinks I saw, since more abundantly
  In saying this I feel that I rejoice.
One moment is more lethargy to me,
  Than five and twenty centuries to the emprise
  That startled Neptune with the shade of Argo!
My mind in this wise wholly in suspense,
  Steadfast, immovable, attentive gazed,
  And evermore with gazing grew enkindled.
In presence of that light one such becomes,
  That to withdraw therefrom for other prospect
  It is impossible he e'er consent;
Because the good, which object is of will,
  Is gathered all in this, and out of it
  That is defective which is perfect there.
Shorter henceforward will my language fall
  Of what I yet remember, than an infant's
  Who still his tongue doth moisten at the breast.
Not because more than one unmingled semblance
  Was in the living light on which I looked,
  For it is always what it was before;
But through the sight, that fortified itself
  In me by looking, one appearance only
  To me was ever changing as I changed.
Within the deep and luminous subsistence
  Of the High Light appeared to me three circles,
  Of threefold colour and of one dimension,
And by the second seemed the first reflected
  As Iris is by Iris, and the third
  Seemed fire that equally from both is breathed.
O how all speech is feeble and falls short
  Of my conceit, and this to what I saw
  Is such, 'tis not enough to call it little!
O Light Eterne, sole in thyself that dwellest,
  Sole knowest thyself, and, known unto thyself
  And knowing, lovest and smilest on thyself!
That circulation, which being thus conceived
  Appeared in thee as a reflected light,
  When somewhat contemplated by mine eyes,
Within itself, of its own very colour
  Seemed to me painted with our effigy,
  Wherefore my sight was all absorbed therein.
As the geometrician, who endeavours
  To square the circle, and discovers not,
  By taking thought, the principle he wants,
Even such was I at that new apparition;
  I wished to see how the image to the circle
  Conformed itself, and how it there finds place;
But my own wings were not enough for this,
  Had it not been that then my mind there smote
  A flash of lightning, wherein came its wish.
Here vigour failed the lofty fantasy:
  But now was turning my desire and will,
  Even as a wheel that equally is moved,
The Love which moves the sun and the other stars.
SIX SONNETS ON DANTE'S DIVINE COMEDY
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (1807-1882)
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door
  A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,
  Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet
  Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor
Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er;
  Far off the noises of the world retreat;
  The loud vociferations of the street
  Become an undistinguishable roar.
So, as I enter here from day to day,
  And leave my burden at this minster gate,
  Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray,
The tumult of the time disconsolate
  To inarticulate murmurs dies away,
  While the eternal ages watch and wait.
How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers!
  This crowd of statues, in whose folded sleeves
  Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves
  Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers,
And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers!
  But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves
  Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves,
  And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers!
Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain,
  What exultations trampling on despair,
  What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong,
What passionate outcry of a soul in pain,
  Uprose this poem of the earth and air,
  This mediaeval miracle of song!
I enter, and I see thee in the gloom
  Of the long aisles, O poet saturnine!
  And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine.
  The air is filled with some unknown perfume;
The congregation of the dead make room
  For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine;
  Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine,
  The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb.
From the confessionals I hear arise
  Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies,
  And lamentations from the crypts below
And then a voice celestial that begins
  With the pathetic words, "Although your sins
  As scarlet be," and ends with "as the snow."
With snow-white veil, and garments as of flame,
  She stands before thee, who so long ago
  Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe
  From which thy song in all its splendors came;
And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name,
  The ice about thy heart melts as the snow
  On mountain heights, and in swift overflow
  Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame.
Thou makest full confession; and a gleam
  As of the dawn on some dark forest cast,
  Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase;
Lethe and Eunoe--the remembered dream
  And the forgotten sorrow--bring at last
  That perfect pardon which is perfect peace.
I Lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze
  With forms of saints and holy men who died,
  Here martyred and hereafter glorified;
  And the great Rose upon its leaves displays
Christ's Triumph, and the angelic roundelays,
  With splendor upon splendor multiplied;
  And Beatrice again at Dante's side
  No more rebukes, but smiles her words of praise.
And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs
  Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love
  And benedictions of the Holy Ghost;
And the melodious bells among the spires
  O'er all the house-tops and through heaven above
  Proclaim the elevation of the Host!
O star of morning and of liberty!
  O bringer of the light, whose splendor shines
  Above the darkness of the Apennines,
  Forerunner of the day that is to be!
The voices of the city and the sea,
  The voices of the mountains and the pines,
  Repeat thy song, till the familiar lines
  Are footpaths for the thought of Italy!
Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights,
  Through all the nations; and a sound is heard,
  As of a mighty wind, and men devout,
Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes,
  In their own language hear thy wondrous word,
  And many are amazed and many doubt.
     'Ich habe unter meinen Papieren ein Blatt gefunden,
     wo ich die Baukunst eine erstarrte Musik nenne.'
        (Johann Wolfgang Goethe, 1829 March 23)
I found Dante in a bar.  The Poet had indeed lost the True Way to be found
reduced to party chatter in a Capitol Hill basement, but I had found him at
last.  I must have been drinking in the Dark Tavern of Error, for I did not
even realize I had begun the dolorous path followed by many since the
Poet's journey of A.D. 1300.  Actually no one spoke a word about Dante or
his Divine Comedy, rather I heard a second-hand Goethe call architecture
"frozen music."  Soon I took my second step through the gate to a people
lost; this time on a more respectable occasion--a lecture at the Catholic
University of America.  Clio, the muse of history, must have been aiding
Prof. Schumacher that evening, because it sustained my full three-hour
attention, even after I had just presented an all-night project.  There I
heard of a most astonishing Italian translation of 'la Divina Commedia' di
Dante Alighieri.  An Italian architect, Giuseppi Terragni, had translated
the Comedy into the 'Danteum,' a projected stone and glass monument to Poet
and Poem near the Basilica of Maxentius in Rome.
Do not look for the Danteum in the Eternal City.  In true Dantean form,
politics stood in the way of its construction in 1938.  Ironically this
literature-inspired building can itself most easily be found in book form.
Reading this book I remembered Goethe's quote about frozen music.  Did
Terragni try to freeze Dante's medieval miracle of song?  Certainly a
cold-poem seems artistically repulsive.  Unflattering comparisons to the
lake of Cocytus spring to mind too.  While I cannot read Italian, I can read
some German.  After locating the original quotation I discovered that
'frozen' is a problematic (though common) translation of Goethe's original
'erstarrte.'  The verb 'erstarren' more properly means 'to solidify' or 'to
stiffen.'  This suggests a chemical reaction in which the art does not
necessarily chill in the transformation.  Nor can simple thawing yield the
original work.  Like a chemical reaction it requires an artistic catalyst, a
muse.  Indeed the Danteum is not a physical translation of the Poem.
Terragni thought it inappropriate to translate the Comedy literally into a
non-literary work.  The Danteum would not be a stage set, rather Terragni
generated his design from the Comedy's structure, not its finishes.
     The poem is divided into three canticles of thirty-three cantos
     each, plus one extra in the first, the Inferno, making a total of
     one hundred cantos.  Each canto is composed of three-line tercets,
     the first and third lines rhyme, the second line rhymes with the
     beginning of the next tercet, establishing a kind of overlap,
     reflected in the overlapping motif of the Danteum design.  Dante's
     realms are further subdivided: the Inferno is composed of nine
     levels, the vestibule makes a tenth.  Purgatory has seven
     terraces, plus two ledges in an ante-purgatory; adding these to
     the Earthly Paradise yields ten zones.  Paradise is composed of
     nine heavens; Empyrean makes the tenth.  In the Inferno, sinners
     are organized by three vices--Incontinence, Violence, and
     Fraud--and further subdivided by the seven deadly sins.  In
     Purgatory, penance is ordered on the basis of three types of
     natural love.  Paradise is organized on the basis of three types
     of Divine Love, and further subdivided according to the three
     theological and four cardinal virtues.
        (Thomas Schumacher, "The Danteum,"
         Princeton Architectural Press, 1993)
By translating the structure, Terragni could then layer the literal and the
spiritual meanings of the Poem without allowing either to dominate.  These
layers of meaning are native to the Divine Comedy as they are native to
much medieval literature, although modern readers and tourists may not be
so familiar with them.  They are literal, allegorical, moral, and
anagogical.  I offer you St. Thomas of Aquinas' definition of these last
three as they relate to Sacred Scripture:
     . . .this spiritual sense has a threefold division. . .so far as
     the things of the Old Law signify the things of the New Law,
     there is the allegorical sense; so far as the things done in
     Christ, or so far as the things which signify Christ, are types
     of what we ought to do, there is the moral sense.  But so far as
     they signify what relates to eternal glory, there is the
     anagogical sense.    (Summa Theologica I, 1, 10)
Within the Danteum the Poet's meanings lurk in solid form.  An example: the
Danteum design does have spaces literally associated with the Comedy--the
Dark Wood of Error, Inferno, Purgatorio, and the Paradiso--but these spaces
also relate among themselves spiritually.  Dante often highlights a virtue
by first condemning its corruption.  Within Dante's system Justice is the
greatest of the cardinal virtues; its corruption, Fraud, is the most
contemptible of vices.  Because Dante saw the papacy as the most precious of
sacred institutions, corrupt popes figure prominently among the damned in
the Poet's Inferno.  In the Danteum the materiality of the worldly Dark Wood
directly opposes the transcendence of the Paradiso.  In the realm of error
every thought is lost and secular, while in heaven every soul's intent is
directed toward God.  The shadowy Inferno of the Danteum mirrors the
Purgatorio's illuminated ascent to heaven.  Purgatory embodies hope and
growth where hell chases its own dark inertia.  Such is the cosmography
shared by Terragni and Dante.
In this postscript I intend neither to fully examine the meaning nor the
plan of the Danteum, but rather to evince the power that art has acted as a
catalyst to other artists.  The Danteum, a modern design inspired by a
medieval poem, is but one example.  Dante's poem is filled with characters
epitomizing the full range of vices and virtues of human personalities.
Dante's characters come from his present and literature's past; they are
mythological, biblical, classical, ancient, and medieval.  They, rather than
Calliope and her sisters, were Dante's muses.
'La Divina Commedia' seems a natural candidate to complete Project
Gutenberg's first milleditio and to begin its second thousand e-texts.
Although distinctly medieval, its continuum of influence spans the
Renaissance and modernity.  Terragni saw his place within the Comedy as
surely as Dante saw his own.  We too fit within Dante's understanding of the
human condition; we differ less from our past than we might like to
believe.  T. S. Eliot understood this when he wrote "Dante and Shakespeare
divide the modern world between them, there is no third."  So now Dante
joins Shakespeare (e-text #100) in the Project Gutenberg collection.  Two
works that influenced Dante are also part of the collection: The Bible
(#10) and Virgil's Aeneid (#227).  Other major influences--St. Thomas of
Aquinas' Summa Theologica, The Metamorphoses of Ovid, and Aristotle's
Nicomachean Ethics--are available in electronic form at other Internet
sites.  If one searches enough he may even find a computer rendering of the
Danteum on the Internet.  By presenting this electronic text to Project
Gutenberg it is my hope that in will not rest in a computer unknown and
unread; it is my hope that artists will see themselves in the Divine Comedy
and be inspired, just as Dante ran the paths left by Virgil and St. Thomas
that led him to the stars.
Dennis McCarthy, July 1997
Atlanta, Georgia USA
imprimatur@juno.com
TECHNICAL NOTES
Text that was originally in italics has been placed within single
quotes ('italics').  Where italic text coincided with existing
quotation marks it was not given any additional markup.  Extended
characters, used occasionally in the original, have been transcribed
into 7-bit ASCII.  To view the italics and special characters please
refer to the HTML version of this e-text.
and Tad Book, student, Pontifical North American College, Rome.
THE HOLY BIBLE
Translated from the Latin Vulgate
Diligently Compared with the Hebrew, Greek,
and Other Editions in Divers Languages
THE OLD TESTAMENT
First Published by the English College at Douay
A.D. 1609 & 1610
THE NEW TESTAMENT
First Published by the English College at Rheims
With Annotations
The Whole Revised and Diligently Compared with
the Latin Vulgate by Bishop Richard Challoner
A.D. 1749-1752
Without the assistance of many individuals and groups, this text of the
Douay-Rheims Version of the Holy Bible would not be available for the
Project Gutenberg collection.  Our most grateful and sincere thanks goes
to those at 'Catholic Software' who have provided the electronic plain
texts of the 73 books of the Bible.  'Catholic Software' also produces a
Douay Bible program on CD-ROM that features a fully searchable Douay-
Rheims Bible, footnotes, Latin text and dictionary, topical index, maps,
Biblical art gallery, and other features.  For more information of this
and many other products contact:
Catholic Software
Murray, KY 42071
(502) 753-8198
http://www.catholicity.com/market/CSoftware/
waubrey@aol.com
Additional production assistance has been provided by volunteers from
the Atlanta Council of the Knights of Columbus.  Tad Book compiled and
reformatted the texts to Project Gutenberg standards.  Dennis McCarthy
assisted Mr. Book and transcribed selections from the first editions
included as appendices.
This e-text comes from multiple editions of Challoner's revised Douay-
Rheims Version of the Holy Bible.  In 1568 English exiles, many from
Oxford, established the English College of Douay (Douai/Doway), Flanders,
under William (later Cardinal) Allen.  In October, 1578, Gregory Martin
began the work of preparing an English translation of the Bible for
Catholic readers, the first such translation into Modern English.
Assisting were William Allen, Richard Bristow, Thomas Worthington, and
William Reynolds who revised, criticized, and corrected Dr. Martin's
work.  The college published the New Testament at Rheims (Reims/Rhemes),
France, in 1582 through John Fogny with a preface and explanatory notes,
authored chiefly by Bristol, Allen, and Worthington.  Later the Old
Testament was published at Douay in two parts (1609 and 1610) by Laurence
Kellam through the efforts of Dr. Worthington, then superior of the
seminary.  The translation had been prepared before the appearance of the
New Testament, but the publication was delayed due to financial
difficulties.  The religious and scholarly adherence to the Latin Vulgate
text led to the less elegant and idiomatic words and phrases often found
in the translation.  In some instances where no English word conveyed the
full meaning of the Latin, a Latin word was Anglicized and its meaning
defined in a glossary.  Although ridiculed by critics, many of these
words later found common usage in the English language.  Spellings of
proper names and the numbering of the Psalms are adopted from the Latin
In 1749 Dr. Richard Challoner began a major revision of the Douay and
Rheims texts, the spellings and phrasing of which had become increasingly
archaic in the almost two centuries since the translations were first
produced.  He modernized the diction and introduced a more fluid style,
while faithfully maintaining the accuracy of Dr. Martin's texts.  This
revision became the 'de facto' standard text for English speaking
Catholics until the twentieth century.  It is still highly regarded by
many for its style, although it is now rarely used for liturgical
purposes.  The notes included in this electronic edition are generally
attributed to Bishop Challoner.
The 1610 printing of the second tome of the Old Testament includes an
appendix containing the non-canonical books 'Prayer of Manasses,' 'Third
Booke of Esdras,' and 'Fourth Booke of Esdras.'  While not part of
Challoner's revision, the 1610 texts are placed in the appendices of
this e-text.  Also included are the original texts of two short books,
'The Prophecie of Abdias' and 'The Catholike Epistle of Iude the
Apostle,' to give the reader a sense of the language of the first
editions in comparison to the Challoner revision.  Further background on
the Douay-Rheims version may be found in a selection from the preface to
the 1582 edition and the original glossary included in the appendices.
The Old Testament
  Book of Genesis
  Book of Exodus
  Book of Leviticus
  Book of Numbers
  Book of Deuteronomy
  Book of Josue
  Book of Judges
  Book of Ruth
  First Book of Samuel, alias 1 Kings
  Second Book of Samuel, alias 2 Kings
  Third Book of Kings
  Fourth Book of Kings
  First Book of Paralipomenon
  Second Book of Paralipomenon
  First Book of Esdras
  Book of Nehemias, alias 2 Esdras
  Book of Tobias
  Book of Judith
  Book of Esther
  Book of Job
  Book of Psalms
  Book of Proverbs
  Ecclesiastes
  Solomon's Canticle of Canticles
  Book of Wisdom
  Ecclesiasticus
  Prophecy of Isaias
  Prophecy of Jeremias
  Lamentations of Jeremias
  Prophecy of Baruch
  Prophecy of Ezechiel
  Prophecy of Daniel
  Prophecy of Osee
  Prophecy of Joel
  Prophecy of Amos
  Prophecy of Abdias
  Prophecy of Jonas
  Prophecy of Micheas
  Prophecy of Nahum
  Prophecy of Habacuc
  Prophecy of Sophonias
  Prophecy of Aggeus
  Prophecy of Zacharias
  Prophecy of Malachias
  First Book of Machabees
  Second Book of Machabees
The New Testament
  Gospel According to St. Matthew
  Gospel According to St. Mark
  Gospel According to St. Luke
  Gospel According to St. John
  Acts of the Apostles
  Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans
  First Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians
  Second Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians
  Epistle of St. Paul to the Galatians
  Epistle of St. Paul to the Ephesians
  Epistle of St. Paul to the Philippians
  Epistle of St. Paul to the Colossians
  First Epistle of St. Paul to the Thessalonians
  Second Epistle of St. Paul to the Thessalonians
  First Epistle of St. Paul to Timothy
  Second Epistle of St. Paul to Timothy
  Epistle of St. Paul to Titus
  Epistle of St. Paul to Philemon
  Epistle of St. Paul to the Hebrews
  Catholic Epistle of St. James the Apostle
  First Epistle of St. Peter the Apostle
  Second Epistle of St. Peter the Apostle
  First Epistle of St. John the Apostle
  Second Epistle of St. John the Apostle
  Third Epistle of St. John the Apostle
  Catholic Epistle of St. Jude the Apostle
  Apocalypse of St. John the Apostle
  The Prayer of Manasses
  The Third Booke of Esdras
  The Fourth Booke of Esdras
  The Prophecie of Abdias
  The Catholike Epistle of Iude the Apostle
  The Preface to the Reader
  Hard Vvordes Explicated
THE OLD TESTAMENT
THE BOOK OF GENESIS
This book is so called from its treating of the GENERATION, that is, of
the creation and the beginning of the world.  The Hebrews call it
BERESITH, from the Word with which it begins.  It contains not only the
history of the Creation of the world; but also an account of its
progress during the space of 2369 years, that is, until the death of
Genesis Chapter 1
God createth Heaven and Earth, and all things therein, in six days.
1:1. In the beginning God created heaven, and earth.
1:2. And the earth was void and empty, and darkness was upon the face
of the deep; and the spirit of God moved over the waters.
1:3. And God said:  Be light made.  And light was made.
1:4. And God saw the light that it was good; and he divided the light
from the darkness.
1:5. And he called the light Day, and the darkness Night; and there was
evening and morning one day.
1:6. And God said:  Let there be a firmament made amidst the waters:  and
let it divide the waters from the waters.
A firmament. . .By this name is here understood the whole space between
the earth, and the highest stars.  The lower part of which divideth the
waters that are upon the earth, from those that are above in the
1:7. And God made a firmament, and divided the waters that were under
the firmament, from those that were above the firmament, and it was so.
1:8. And God called the firmament, Heaven; and the evening and morning
were the second day.
1:9. God also said; Let the waters that are under the heaven, be
gathered together into one place:  and let the dry land appear.  And it
was so done.
1:10. And God called the dry land, Earth; and the gathering together of
the waters, he called Seas.  And God saw that it was good.
1:11. And he said:  let the earth bring forth green herb, and such as
may seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after its kind, which may
have seed in itself upon the earth.  And it was so done.
1:12. And the earth brought forth the green herb, and such as yieldeth
seed according to its kind, and the tree that beareth fruit, having
seed each one according to its kind.  And God saw that it was good.
1:13. And the evening and the morning were the third day.
1:14. And God said:  Let there be lights made in the firmament of
heaven, to divide the day and the night, and let them be for signs, and
for seasons, and for days and years:
1:15. To shine in the firmament of heaven, and to give light upon the
earth, and it was so done.
1:16. And God made two great lights:  a greater light to rule the day;
and a lesser light to rule the night:  and the stars.
Two great lights. . .God created on the first day, light, which being
moved from east to west, by its rising and setting, made morning and
evening.  But on the fourth day he ordered and distributed this light,
and made the sun, moon, and stars.  The moon, though much less than the
stars, is here called a great light, from its giving a far greater
light to the earth than any of them.
1:17. And he set them in the firmament of heaven to shine upon the
1:18. And to rule the day and the night, and to divide the light and
the darkness.  And God saw that it was good.
1:19. And the evening and morning were the fourth day.
1:20. God also said:  let the waters bring forth the creeping creature
having life, and the fowl that may fly over the earth under the
firmament of heaven.
1:21. And God created the great whales, and every living and moving
creature, which the waters brought forth, according to their kinds, and
every winged fowl according to its kind.  And God saw that it was good.
1:22. And he blessed them, saying:  Increase and multiply, and fill the
waters of the sea:  and let the birds be multiplied upon the earth.
1:23. And the evening and morning were the fifth day.
1:24. And God said:  Let the earth bring forth the living creature in
its kind, cattle and creeping things, and beasts of the earth,
according to their kinds.  And it was so done.
1:25. And God made the beasts of the earth according to their kinds,
and cattle, and every thing that creepeth on the earth after its kind.
And God saw that it was good.
1:26. And he said:  Let us make man to our image and likeness:  and let
him have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air,
and the beasts, and the whole earth, and every creeping creature that
moveth upon the earth.
Let us make man to our image. . .This image of God in man, is not in the
body, but in the soul; which is a spiritual substance, endued with
understanding and free will.  God speaketh here in the plural number, to
insinuate the plurality of persons in the Deity.
1:27. And God created man to his own image:  to the image of God he
created him:  male and female he created them.
1:28. And God blessed them, saying:  Increase and multiply, and fill the
earth, and subdue it, and rule over the fishes of the sea, and the
fowls of the air, and all living creatures that move upon the earth.
Increase and multiply. . .This is not a precept, as some Protestant
controvertists would have it, but a blessing, rendering them fruitful;
for God had said the same words to the fishes, and birds, (ver. 22) who
were incapable of receiving a precept.
1:29. And God said:  Behold I have given you every herb bearing seed
upon the earth, and all trees that have in themselves seed of their own
kind, to be your meat:
1:30. And to all beasts of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and
to all that move upon the earth, and wherein there is life, that they
may have to feed upon.  And it was so done.
1:31. And God saw all the things that he had made, and they were very
good.  And the evening and morning were the sixth day.
Genesis Chapter 2
God resteth on the seventh day and blesseth it.  The earthly paradise,
in which God placeth man.  He commandeth him not to eat of the tree of
knowledge.  And formeth a woman of his rib.
2:1. So the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the furniture
2:2. And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made:  and
he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had done.
He rested, etc. . .That is, he ceased to make or create any new kinds of
things.  Though, as our Lord tells us, John 5.17, "He still worketh",
viz., by conserving and governing all things, and creating souls.
2:3. And he blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it:  because in it
he had rested from all his work which God created and made.
2:4. These are the generations of the heaven and the earth, when they
were created, in the day that the Lord God made the heaven and the
2:5. And every plant of the field before it sprung up in the earth, and
every herb of the ground before it grew:  for the Lord God had not
rained upon the earth; and there was not a man to till the earth.
2:6. But a spring rose out of the earth, watering all the surface of
2:7. And the Lord God formed man of the slime of the earth:  and
breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living
2:8. And the Lord God had planted a paradise of pleasure from the
beginning:  wherein he placed man whom he had formed.
2:9. And the Lord God brought forth of the ground all manner of trees,
fair to behold, and pleasant to eat of:  the tree of life also in the
midst of paradise:  and the tree of knowledge of good and evil.
The tree of life. . .So called because it had that quality, that by
eating of the fruit of it, man would have been preserved in a constant
state of health, vigour, and strength, and would not have died at all.
The tree of knowledge. . .To which the deceitful serpent falsely
attributed the power of imparting a superior kind of knowledge, beyond
that which God was pleased to give.
2:10. And a river went out of the place of pleasure to water paradise,
which from thence is divided into four heads.
2:11. The name of the one is Phison:  that is it which compasseth all
the land of Hevilath, where gold groweth.
2:12. And the gold of that land is very good:  there is found bdellium,
and the onyx stone.
2:13. And the name of the second river is Gehon:  the same is it that
compasseth all the land of Ethiopia.
2:14. And the name of the third river is Tigris:  the same passeth along
by the Assyrians.  And the fourth river is Euphrates.
2:15. And the Lord God took man, and put him into the paradise of
pleasure, to dress it, and to keep it.
2:16. And he commanded him, saying:  Of every tree of paradise thou
2:17. But of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not
eat.  For in what day soever thou shalt eat of it, thou shalt die the
2:18. And the Lord God said:  It is not good for man to be alone:  let us
make him a help like unto himself.
2:19. And the Lord God having formed out of the ground all the beasts
of the earth, and all the fowls of the air, brought them to Adam to see
what he would call them:  for whatsoever Adam called any living creature
the same is its name.
2:20. And Adam called all the beasts by their names, and all the fowls
of the air, and all the cattle of the field:  but for Adam there was not
found a helper like himself.
2:21. Then the Lord God cast a deep sleep upon Adam:  and when he was
fast asleep, he took one of his ribs, and filled up flesh for it.
2:22. And the Lord God built the rib which he took from Adam into a
woman:  and brought her to Adam.
2:23. And Adam said:  This now is bone of my bones, and flesh of my
flesh; she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man.
2:24. Wherefore a man shall leave father and mother, and shall cleave
to his wife:  and they shall be two in one flesh.
2:25. And they were both naked:  to wit, Adam and his wife:  and were not
Genesis Chapter 3
The serpent's craft.  The fall of our first parents.  Their punishment.
The promise of a Redeemer.
3:1. Now the serpent was more subtle than any of the beasts of the
earth which the Lord God had made.  And he said to the woman:  Why hath
God commanded you, that you should not eat of every tree of paradise?
3:2. And the woman answered him, saying:  Of the fruit of the trees that
are in paradise we do eat:
3:3. But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of paradise,
God hath commanded us that we should not eat; and that we should not
touch it, lest perhaps we die.
3:4. And the serpent said to the woman:  No, you shall not die the
3:5. For God doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof,
your eyes shall be opened:  and you shall be as Gods, knowing good and
3:6. And the woman saw that the tree was good to eat, and fair to the
eyes, and delightful to behold:  and she took of the fruit thereof, and
did eat, and gave to her husband, who did eat.
3:7. And the eyes of them both were opened:  and when they perceived
themselves to be naked, they sewed together fig leaves, and made
themselves aprons.
And the eyes, etc. . .Not that they were blind before, (for the woman
saw that the tree was fair to the eyes, ver. 6.) nor yet that their
eyes were opened to any more perfect knowledge of good; but only to the
unhappy experience of having lost the good of original grace and
innocence, and incurred the dreadful evil of sin.  From whence followed
a shame of their being naked; which they minded not before; because
being now stript of original grace, they quickly began to be subject to
the shameful rebellions of the flesh.
3:8. And when they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in paradise
at the afternoon air, Adam and his wife hid themselves from the face of
the Lord God, amidst the trees of paradise.
3:9. And the Lord God called Adam, and said to him:  Where art thou?
3:10. And he said:  I heard thy voice in paradise; and I was afraid,
because I was naked, and I hid myself.
3:11. And he said to him:  And who hath told thee that thou wast naked,
but that thou hast eaten of the tree whereof I commanded thee that thou
shouldst not eat?
3:12. And Adam said:  The woman, whom thou gavest me to be my companion,
gave me of the tree, and I did eat.
3:13. And the Lord God said to the woman:  Why hast thou done this?  And
she answered:  The serpent deceived me, and I did eat.
3:14. And the Lord God said to the serpent:  Because thou hast done this
thing, thou art cursed among all cattle, and beasts of the earth:  upon
thy breast shalt thou go, and earth shalt thou eat all the days of thy
3:15. I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed and
her seed:  she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her
She shall crush. . .Ipsa, the woman; so divers of the fathers read this
place, conformably to the Latin:  others read it ipsum, viz., the seed.
The sense is the same:  for it is by her seed, Jesus Christ, that the
woman crushes the serpent's head.
3:16. To the woman also he said:  I will multiply thy sorrows, and thy
conceptions:  in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children, and thou shalt
be under thy husband's power, and he shall have dominion over thee.
3:17. And to Adam he said:  Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of
thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee, that
thou shouldst not eat, cursed is the earth in thy work:  with labour and
toil shalt thou eat thereof all the days of thy life.
3:18. Thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to thee, and thou shalt
eat the herbs of the earth.
3:19. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread till thou return to
the earth out of which thou wast taken:  for dust thou art, and into
dust thou shalt return.
3:20. And Adam called the name of his wife Eve:  because she was the
mother of all the living.
3:21. And the Lord God made for Adam and his wife garments of skins,
and clothed them.
3:22. And he said:  Behold Adam is become as one of us, knowing good and
evil:  now therefore lest perhaps he put forth his hand and take also of
the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever.
Behold Adam, etc. . .This was spoken by way of reproaching him with his
pride, in affecting a knowledge that might make him like to God.
3:23. And the Lord God sent him out of the paradise of pleasure, to
till the earth from which he was taken.
3:24. And he cast out Adam:  and placed before the paradise of pleasure
Cherubims, and a flaming sword, turning every way, to keep the way of
the tree of life.
Genesis Chapter 4
The history of Cain and Abel.
4:1. And Adam knew Eve his wife; who conceived and brought forth Cain,
saying:  I have gotten a man through God.
4:2. And again she brought forth his brother Abel.  And Abel was a
shepherd, and Cain a husbandman.
4:3. And it came to pass after many days, that Cain offered, of the
fruits of the earth, gifts to the Lord.
4:4. Abel also offered of the firstlings of his flock, and of their
fat:  and the Lord had respect to Abel, and to his offerings.
Had respect. . .That is, shewed his acceptance of his sacrifice (as
coming from a heart full of devotion):  and that, as we may suppose, by
some visible token, such as sending fire from heaven upon his
4:5. But to Cain and his offerings he had no respect:  and Cain was
exceeding angry, and his countenance fell.
4:6. And the Lord said to him:  Why art thou angry?  and why is thy
countenance fallen?
4:7. If thou do well, shalt thou not receive?  but if ill, shall not sin
forthwith be present at the door?  but the lust thereof shall be under
thee, and thou shalt have dominion over it.
4:8. And Cain said to Abel his brother:  Let us go forth abroad.  And
when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel, and
4:9. And the Lord said to Cain:  Where is thy brother Abel?  And he
answered:  I know not:  am I my brother's keeper?
4:10. And he said to him:  What hast thou done?  the voice of thy
brother's blood crieth to me from the earth.
4:11. Now therefore cursed shalt thou be upon the earth, which hath
opened her mouth and received the blood of thy brother at thy hand.
4:12. When thou shalt till it, it shall not yield to thee its fruit:  a
fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be upon the earth.
4:13. And Cain said to the Lord:  My iniquity is greater than that I may
deserve pardon.
4:14. Behold thou dost cast me out this day from the face of the earth,
and from thy face I shall be hid, and I shall be a vagabond and a
fugitive on the earth:  every one therefore that findeth me, shall kill
Every one that findeth me shall kill me. . .His guilty conscience made
him fear his own brothers and nephews; of whom, by this time, there
might be a good number upon the earth; which had now endured near 130
years; as may be gathered from Gen. 5.3, compared with chap. 4.25,
though in the compendious account given in the scriptures, only Cain
and Abel are mentioned.
4:15. And the Lord said to him:  No, it shall not so be:  but whosoever
shall kill Cain, shall be punished sevenfold.  And the Lord set a mark
upon Cain, that whosoever found him should not kill him.
Set a mark, etc. . .The more common opinion of the interpreters of holy
writ supposes this mark to have been a trembling of the body; or a
horror and consternation in his countenance.
4:16. And Cain went out from the face of the Lord, and dwelt as a
fugitive on the earth at the east side of Eden.
4:17. And Cain knew his wife, and she conceived, and brought forth
Henoch:  and he built a city, and called the name thereof by the name of
his son Henoch.
His wife. . .She was a daughter of Adam, and Cain's own sister; God
dispensing with such marriages in the beginning of the world, as
mankind could not otherwise be propagated.  He built a city, viz. . .In
process of time, when his race was multiplied, so as to be numerous
enough to people it.  For in the many hundred years he lived, his race
might be multiplied even to millions.
4:18. And Henoch begot Irad, and Irad begot Maviael, and Maviael begot
Mathusael, and Mathusael begot Lamech,
4:19. Who took two wives:  the name of the one was Ada, and the name of
the other Sella.
4:20. And Ada brought forth Jabel:  who was the father of such as dwell
in tents, and of herdsmen.
4:21. And his brother's name was Jubal:  he was the father of them that
play upon the harp and the organs.
4:22. Sella also brought forth Tubalcain, who was a hammerer and
artificer in every work of brass and iron.  And the sister of Tubalcain
4:23. And Lamech said to his wives Ada and Sella:  Hear my voice, ye
wives of Lamech, hearken to my speech:  for I have slain a man to the
wounding of myself, and a stripling to my own bruising.
I have slain a man, etc. . .It is the tradition of the Hebrews, that
Lamech in hunting slew Cain, mistaking him for a wild beast; and that
having discovered what he had done, he beat so unmercifully the youth,
by whom he was led into that mistake, that he died of the blows.
4:24. Sevenfold vengeance shall be taken for Cain:  but for Lamech
seventy times sevenfold.
4:25. Adam also knew his wife again:  and she brought forth a son, and
called his name Seth, saying:  God hath given me another seed for Abel,
whom Cain slew.
4:26. But to Seth also was born a son, whom he called Enos:  this man
began to call upon the name of the Lord.
Began to call upon, etc. . .Not that Adam and Seth had not called upon
God, before the birth of Enos; but that Enos used more solemnity in the
worship and invocation of God.
Genesis Chapter 5
The genealogy, age, and death of the Patriarchs, from Adam to Noe.  The
translation of Henoch.
5:1. This is the book of the generation of Adam.  In the day that God
created man, he made him to the likeness of God.
5:2. He created them male and female; and blessed them:  and called
their name Adam, in the day when they were created.
5:3. And Adam lived a hundred and thirty years, and begot a son to his
own image and likeness, and called his name Seth.
5:4. And the days of Adam, after he begot Seth, were eight hundred
years:  and he begot sons and daughters.
5:5. And all the time that Adam lived, came to nine hundred and thirty
years, and he died.
5:6. Seth also lived a hundred and five years, and begot Enos.
5:7. And Seth lived after he begot Enos, eight hundred and seven years,
and begot sons and daughters.
5:8. And all the days of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years, and
5:9. And Enos lived ninety years, and begot Cainan.
5:10. After whose birth he lived eight hundred and fifteen years, and
begot sons and daughters.
5:11. And all the days of Enos were nine hundred and five years, and he
5:12. And Cainan lived seventy years, and begot Malaleel.
5:13. And Cainan lived after he begot Malaleel, eight hundred and forty
years, and begot sons and daughters.
5:14. And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years, and
5:15. And Malaleel lived sixty-five years and begot Jared.
5:16. And Malaleel lived after he begot Jared, eight hundred and thirty
years, and begot sons and daughters.
5:17. And all the days of Malaleel were eight hundred and ninety-five
years, and he died.
5:18. And Jared lived a hundred and sixty-two years, and begot Henoch.
5:19. And Jared lived after he begot Henoch, eight hundred years, and
begot sons and daughters.
5:20. And all the days of Jared were nine hundred and sixty-two years,
and he died.
5:21. And Henoch lived sixty-five years, and begot Mathusala.
5:22. And Henoch walked with God:  and lived after he begot Mathusala,
three hundred years, and begot sons and daughters.
5:23. And all the days of Henoch were three hundred and sixty-five
5:24. And he walked with God, and was seen no more:  because God took
5:25. And Mathusala lived a hundred and eighty-seven years, and begot
5:26. And Mathlusala lived after he begot Lamech, seven hundred and
eighty-two years, and begot sons and daughters.
5:27. And all the days of Mathusala were nine hundred and sixty-nine
years, and he died.
5:28. And Lamech lived a hundred and eighty-two years, and begot a son.
5:29. And he called his name Noe, saying:  This same shall comfort us
from the works and labours of our hands on the earth, which the Lord
hath cursed.
5:30. And Lamech lived after he begot Noe, five hundred and ninety-five
years, and begot sons and daughters.
5:31. And all the days of Lamech came to seven hundred and
seventy-seven years, and he died.  And Noe, when he was five hundred
years old, begot Sem, Cham, and Japheth.
Genesis Chapter 6
Man's sin is the cause of the deluge.  Noe is commanded to build the
6:1. And after that men began to be multiplied upon the earth, and
daughters were born to them,
6:2. The sons of God seeing the daughters of men, that they were fair,
took to themselves wives of all which they chose.
The sons of God. . .The descendants of Seth and Enos are here called
sons of God from their religion and piety:  whereas the ungodly race of
Cain, who by their carnal affections lay grovelling upon the earth, are
called the children of men.  The unhappy consequence of the former
marrying with the latter, ought to be a warning to Christians to be
very circumspect in their marriages; and not to suffer themselves to be
determined in their choice by their carnal passion, to the prejudice of
virtue or religion.
6:3. And God said:  My spirit shall not remain in man for ever, because
he is flesh, and his days shall be a hundred and twenty years.
His days shall be, etc. . .The meaning is, that man's days, which before
the flood were usually 900 years, should now be reduced to 120 years.
Or rather, that God would allow men this term of 120 years, for their
repentance and conversion, before he would send the deluge.
6:4. Now giants were upon the earth in those days.  For after the sons
of God went in to the daughters of men, and they brought forth
children, these are the mighty men of old, men of renown.
Giants. . .It is likely the generality of men before the flood were of a
gigantic stature in comparison with what men now are.  But these here
spoken of are called giants, as being not only tall in stature, but
violent and savage in their dispositions, and mere monsters of cruelty
6:5. And God seeing that the wickedness of men was great on the earth,
and that all the thought of their heart was bent upon evil at all
6:6. It repented him that he had made man on the earth.  And being
touched inwardly with sorrow of heart,
It repented him, etc. . .God, who is unchangeable, is not capable of
repentance, grief, or any other passion.  But these expressions are used
to declare the enormity of the sins of men, which was so provoking as
to determine their Creator to destroy these his creatures, whom before
he had so much favoured.
6:7. He said:  I will destroy man, whom I have created, from the face of
the earth, from man even to beasts, from the creeping thing even to the
fowls of the air, for it repenteth me that I have made them.
6:8. But Noe found grace before the Lord.
6:9. These are the generations of Noe:  Noe was a just and perfect man
in his generations, he walked with God.
6:10. And he begot three sons, Sem, Cham, and Japheth.
6:11. And the earth was corrupted before God, and was filled with
6:12. And when God had seen that the earth was corrupted (for all flesh
had corrupted its way upon the earth),
6:13. He said to Noe:  The end of all flesh is come before me, the earth
is filled with iniquity through them, and I will destroy them with the
6:14. Make thee an ark of timber planks:  thou shalt make little rooms
in the ark, and thou shalt pitch it within and without.
6:15. And thus shalt thou make it.  The length of the ark shall be three
hundred cubits:  the breadth of it fifty cubits, and the height of it
thirty cubits.
Three hundred cubits, etc. . .The ark, according to the dimensions here
set down, contained four hundred and fifty thousand square cubits;
which was more than enough to contain all the kinds of living
creatures, with all necessary provisions:  even supposing the cubits
here spoken of to have been only a foot and a half each, which was the
least kind of cubits.
6:16. Thou shalt make a window in the ark, and in a cubit shalt thou
finish the top of it:  and the door of the ark thou shalt set in the
side:  with lower, middle chambers, and third stories shalt thou make
6:17. Behold, I will bring the waters of a great flood upon the earth,
to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life under heaven.  All
things that are in the earth shall be consumed.
6:18. And I will establish my covenant with thee, and thou shalt enter
into the ark, thou and thy sons, and thy wife, and the wives of thy
sons with thee.
6:19. And of every living creature of all flesh, thou shalt bring two
of a sort into the ark, that they may live with thee:  of the male sex,
and the female.
6:20. Of fowls according to their kind, and of beasts in their kind,
and of every thing that creepeth on the earth according to its kind:
two of every sort shall go in with thee, that they may live.
6:21. Thou shalt take unto thee of all food that may be eaten, and thou
shalt lay it up with thee:  and it shall be food for thee and them.
6:22. And Noe did all things which God commanded him.
Genesis Chapter 7
Noe with his family go into the ark.  The deluge overflows the earth.
7:1. And the Lord said to him:  Go in, thou and all thy house, into the
ark:  for thee I have seen just before me in this generation.
7:2. Of all clean beasts take seven and seven, the male and the female.
Of all clean. . .The distinction of clean and unclean beasts appears to
have been made before the law of Moses, which was not promulgated till
the year of the world 2514.
7:3. But of the beasts that are unclean two and two, the male and the
female.  Of the fowls also of the air seven and seven, the male and the
female:  that seed may be saved upon the face of the whole earth.
7:4. For yet a while, and after seven days, I will rain upon the earth
forty days and forty nights:  and I will destroy every substance that I
have made, from the face of the earth.
7:5. And Noe did all things which the Lord had commanded him.
7:6. And he was six hundred years old, when the waters of the flood
overflowed the earth.
7:7. And Noe went in and his sons, his wife and the wives of his sons
with him into the ark, because of the waters of the flood.
7:8. And of beasts clean and unclean, and of fowls, and of every thing
that moveth upon the earth,
7:9. Two and two went in to Noe into the ark, male and female, as the
Lord had commanded Noe.
7:10. And after the seven days were passed, the waters of the flood
overflowed the earth.
7:11. In the six hundredth year of the life of Noe, in the second
month, in the seventeenth day of the month, all the fountains of the
great deep were broken up, and the floodgates of heaven were opened:
7:12. And the rain fell upon the earth forty days and forty nights.
7:13. In the selfsame day Noe, and Sem, and Cham, and Japheth, his
sons:  his wife, and the three wives of his sons with them, went into
7:14. They and every beast according to its kind, and all the cattle in
their kind, and every thing that moveth upon the earth, according to
its kind, and every fowl according to its kind, all birds, and all that
7:15. Went in to Noe into the ark, two and two of all flesh, wherein
was the breath of life.
7:16. And they that went in, went in male and female of all flesh, as
God had commanded him:  and the Lord shut him in on the outside.
7:17. And the flood was forty days upon the earth:  and the waters
increased, and lifted up the ark on high from the earth.
7:18. For they overflowed exceedingly:  and filled all on the face of
the earth:  and the ark was carried upon the waters.
7:19. And the waters prevailed beyond measure upon the earth:  and all
the high mountains under the whole heaven were covered.
7:20. The water was fifteen cubits higher than the mountains which it
7:21. And all flesh was destroyed that moved upon the earth, both of
fowl and of cattle, and of beasts, and of all creeping things that
creep upon the earth:  and all men.
7:22. And all things wherein there is the breath of life on the earth,
7:23. And he destroyed all the substance that was upon the earth, from
man even to beast, and the creeping things and fowls of the air:  and
they were destroyed from the earth:  and Noe only remained, and they
that were with him in the ark.
7:24. And the waters prevailed upon the earth a hundred and fifty days.
Genesis Chapter 8
The deluge ceaseth.  Noe goeth out of the ark, and offereth a sacrifice.
God's covenant to him.
8:1. And God remembered Noe, and all the living creatures, and all the
cattle which were with him in the ark, and brought a wind upon the
earth, and the waters were abated:
8:2. The fountains also of the deep, and the floodgates of heaven, were
shut up, and the rain from heaven was restrained.
8:3. And the waters returned from off the earth going and coming:  and
they began to be abated after a hundred and fifty days.
8:4. And the ark rested in the seventh month, the seven and twentieth
day of the month, upon the mountains of Armenia.
8:5. And the waters were going and decreasing until the tenth month:
for in the tenth month, the first day of the month, the tops of the
mountains appeared.
8:6. And after that forty days were passed, Noe opening the window of
the ark, which he had made, sent forth a raven:
8:7. Which went forth and did not return, till the waters were dried up
upon the earth.
Did not return. . .The raven did not return into the ark; but (as it may
be gathered from the Hebrew) went to and fro; sometimes going to the
mountains, where it found carcasses to feed on:  and other times
returning, to rest upon the top of the ark.
8:8. He sent forth also a dove after him, to see if the waters had now
ceased upon the face of the earth.
8:9. But she not finding where her foot might rest, returned to him
into the ark:  for the waters were upon the whole earth:  and he put
forth his hand, and caught her, and brought her into the ark.
8:10. And having waited yet seven other days, he again sent forth the
dove out of the ark.
8:11. And she came to him in the evening carrying a bough of an olive
tree, with green leaves, in her mouth.  Noe therefore understood that
the waters were ceased upon the earth.
8:12. And he stayed yet other seven days:  and he sent forth the dove,
which returned not any more unto him.
8:13. Therefore in the six hundredth and first year, the first month,
the first day of the month, the waters were lessened upon the earth,
and Noe opening the covering of the ark, looked, and saw that the face
of the earth was dried.
8:14. In the second month, the seven and twentieth day of the month,
the earth was dried.
8:15. And God spoke to Noe, saying:
8:16. Go out of the ark, thou and thy wife, thy sons and the wives of
thy sons with thee.
8:17. All living things that are with thee of all flesh, as well in
fowls as in beasts, and all creeping things that creep upon the earth,
bring out with thee, and go ye upon the earth:  increase and multiply
8:18. So Noe went out, he and his sons:  his wife, and the wives of his
sons with him.
8:19. And all living things, and cattle, and creeping things that creep
upon the earth, according to their kinds went out of the ark.
8:20. And Noe built an altar unto the Lord:  and taking of all cattle
and fowls that were clean, offered holocausts upon the altar.
Holocausts,. . .or whole burnt offerings.  In which the whole victim was
consumed by fire upon God's altar, and no part was reserved for the use
of priest or people.
8:21. And the Lord smelled a sweet savour, and said:  I will no more
curse the earth for the sake of man:  for the imagination and thought of
man's heart are prone to evil from his youth:  therefore I will no more
destroy every living soul as I have done.
Smelled, etc. . .A figurative expression, denoting that God was well
pleased with the sacrifices which his servant offered.
8:22. All the days of the earth, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat,
summer and winter, night and day, shall not cease.
Genesis Chapter 9
God blesseth Noe:  forbiddeth blood, and promiseth never more to destroy
the world by water.  The blessing of Sem and Japheth.
9:1. And God blessed Noe and his sons.  And he said to them:  Increase,
and multiply, and fill the earth.
9:2. And let the fear and dread of you be upon all the beasts of the
earth, and upon all the fowls of the air, and all that move upon the
earth:  all the fishes of the sea are delivered into your hand.
9:3. And every thing that moveth, and liveth shall be meat for you:
even as the green herbs have I delivered them all to you:
9:4. Saving that flesh with blood you shall not eat.
9:5. For I will require the blood of your lives at the hand of every
beast, and at the hand of man, at the hand of every man, and of his
brother, will I require the life of man.
9:6. Whosoever shall shed man's blood, his blood shall be shed:  for man
was made to the image of God.
9:7. But increase you and multiply, and go upon the earth and fill it.
9:8. Thus also said God to Noe, and to his sons with him:
9:9. Behold I will establish my covenant with you, and with your seed
9:10. And with every living soul that is with you, as well in all
birds, as in cattle and beasts of the earth, that are come forth out of
the ark, and in all the beasts of the earth.
9:11. I will establish my covenant with you, and all flesh shall be no
more destroyed with the waters of a flood, neither shall there be from
henceforth a flood to waste the earth.
9:12. And God said:  This is the sign of the covenant which I give
between me and you, and to every living soul that is with you, for
perpetual generations.
9:13. I will set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be the sign of a
covenant between me and between the earth.
9:14. And when I shall cover the sky with clouds, my bow shall appear
in the clouds:
9:15. And I will remember my covenant with you, and with every living
soul that beareth flesh:  and there shall no more be waters of a flood
to destroy all flesh.
9:16. And the bow shall be in the clouds, and I shall see it, and shall
remember the everlasting covenant, that was made between God and every
living soul of all flesh which is upon the earth.
9:17. And God said to Noe:  This shall be the sign of the covenant,
which I have established, between me and all flesh upon the earth.
9:18. And the sons of Noe, who came out of the ark, were Sem, Cham, and
Japheth:  and Cham is the father of Chanaan.
9:19. These three are the sons of Noe:  and from these was all mankind
spread over the whole earth.
9:20. And Noe a husbandman began to till the ground, and planted a
9:21. And drinking of the wine was made drunk, and was uncovered in his
Drunk. . .Noe by the judgment of the fathers was not guilty of sin, in
being overcome by wine:  because he knew not the strength of it.
9:22. Which when Cham the father of Chanaan had seen, to wit, that his
father's nakedness was uncovered, he told it to his two brethren
9:23. But Sem and Japheth put a cloak upon their shoulders, and going
backward, covered the nakedness of their father:  and their faces were
turned away, and they saw not their father's nakedness.
Covered the nakedness. . .Thus, as St. Gregory takes notice L. 35;
Moral. c. 22, we ought to cover the nakedness, that is, the sins, of
our spiritual parents and superiors.
9:24. And Noe awaking from the wine, when he had learned what his
younger son had done to him,
9:25. He said:  Cursed be Chanaan, a servant of servants shall he be
unto his brethren.
Cursed be Chanaan. . .The curses, as well as the blessings, of the
patriarchs, were prophetical:  And this in particular is here recorded
by Moses, for the children of Israel, who were to possess the land of
Chanaan.  But why should Chanaan be cursed for his father's faults?  The
Hebrews answer, that he being then a boy, was the first that saw his
grandfather's nakedness, and told his father Cham of it; and joined
with him in laughing at it:  which drew upon him, rather than upon the
rest of the children of Cham, this prophetical curse.
9:26. And he said:  Blessed be the Lord God of Sem, be Chanaan his
9:27. May God enlarge Japheth, and may he dwell in the tents of Sem,
and Chanaan be his servant.
9:28. And Noe lived after the flood three hundred and fifty years.
9:29. And all his days were in the whole nine hundred and fifty years:
and he died.
Genesis Chapter 10
The genealogy of the children of Noe, by whom the world was peopled
after the flood.
10:1. These are the generations of the sons of Noe:  Sem, Cham, and
Japheth:  and unto them sons were born after the flood.
10:2. The sons of Japheth:  Gomer, and Magog, and Madai, and Javan, and
Thubal, and Mosoch, and Thiras.
10:3. And the sons of Gomer:  Ascenez and Riphath and Thogorma.
10:4. And the sons of Javan:  Elisa and Tharsis, Cetthim and Dodanim.
10:5. By these were divided the islands of the Gentiles in their lands,
every one according to his tongue and their families in their nations.
The islands. . .So the Hebrews called all the remote countries, to which
they went by ships from Judea, to Greece, Italy, Spain, etc.
10:6. And the Sons of Cham:  Chus, and Mesram, and Phuth, and Chanaan.
10:7. And the sons of Chus:  Saba, and Hevila, and Sabatha, and Regma,
and Sabatacha.  The sons of Regma:  Saba, and Dadan.
10:8. Now Chus begot Nemrod:  he began to be mighty on the earth.
10:9. And he was a stout hunter before the Lord.  Hence came a proverb:
Even as Nemrod the stout hunter before the Lord.
A stout hunter. . .Not of beasts but of men:  whom by violence and
tyranny he brought under his dominion.  And such he was, not only in the
opinion of men, but before the Lord, that is, in his sight who cannot
be deceived.
10:10. And the beginning of his kingdom was Babylon, and Arach, and
Achad, and Chalanne in the land of Sennaar.
10:11. Out of that land came forth Assur, and built Ninive, and the
streets of the city, and Chale.
10:12. Resen also between Ninive and Chale:  this is the great city.
10:13. And Mesraim begot Ludim, and Anamim and Laabim, Nephthuim.
10:14. And Phetrusim, and Chasluim; of whom came forth the Philistines,
and the Capthorim.
10:15. And Chanaan begot Sidon his firstborn, the Hethite,
10:16. And the Jebusite, and the Amorrhite, and the Gergesite.
10:17. The Hevite and Aracite:  the Sinite,
10:18. And the Aradian, the Samarite, and the Hamathite:  and afterwards
the families of the Chanaanites were spread abroad.
10:19. And the limits of Chanaan were from Sidon as one comes to Gerara
even to Gaza, until thou enter Sodom and Gomorrha, and Adama, and
Seboim even to Lesa.
10:20. These are the children of Cham in their kindreds and tongues,
and generations, and lands, and nations.
10:21. Of Sem also the father of all the children of Heber, the elder
brother of Japheth, sons were born.
10:22. The sons of Sem:  Elam and Assur, and Arphaxad, and Lud, and
10:23. The sons of Aram:  Us, and Hull, and Gether; and Mes.
10:24. But Arphaxad begot Sale, of whom was born Heber.
10:25. And to Heber were born two sons:  the name of the one was Phaleg,
because in his days was the earth divided:  and his brother's name
10:26. Which Jectan begot Elmodad, and Saleph, and Asarmoth, Jare,
10:27. And Aduram, and Uzal, and Decla,
10:28. And Ebal, and Abimael, Saba,
10:29. And Ophir, and Hevila, and Jobab.  All these were the sons of
10:30. And their dwelling was from Messa as we go on as far as Sephar,
a mountain in the east.
10:31. These are the children of Sem according to their kindreds and
tongues, and countries in their nations.
10:32. These are the families of Noe, according to their people and
nations.  By these were the nations divided on the earth after the
Genesis Chapter 11
The tower of Babel.  The confusion of tongues.  The genealogy of Sem down
11:1. And the earth was of one tongue, and of the same speech.
11:2. And when they removed from the east, they found a plain in the
land of Sennaar, and dwelt in it.
11:3. And each one said to his neighbour:  Come let us make brick, and
bake them with fire.  And they had brick instead of stones, and slime
instead of mortar:
11:4. And they said:  Come, let us make a city and a tower, the top
whereof may reach to heaven; and let us make our name famous before we
be scattered abroad into all lands.
11:5. And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the
children of Adam were building.
11:6. And he said:  Behold, it is one people, and all have one tongue:
and they have begun to do this, neither will they leave off from their
designs, till they accomplish them in deed.
11:7. Come ye, therefore, let us go down, and there confound their
tongue, that they may not understand one another's speech.
11:8. And so the Lord scattered them from that place into all lands,
and they ceased to build the city.
11:9. And therefore the name thereof was called Babel, because there
the language of the whole earth was confounded:  and from thence the
Lord scattered them abroad upon the face of all countries.
Babel. . .That is, confusion.
11:10. These are the generations of Sem:  Sem was a hundred years old
when he begot Arphaxad, two years after the flood.
11:11. And Sem lived after he begot Arphaxad, five hundred years, and
begot sons and daughters.
11:12. And Arphaxad lived thirty-five years, and begot Sale.
11:13. And Arphaxad lived after he begot Sale, three hundred and three
years, and begot sons and daughters.
11:14. Sale also lived thirty years, and begot Heber.
11:15. And Sale lived after he begot Heber, four hundred and three
years:  and begot sons and daughters.
11:16. And Heber lived thirty-four years, and begot Phaleg.
11:17. And Heber lived after he begot Phaleg, four hundred and thirty
years:  and begot sons and daughters.
11:18. Phaleg also lived thirty years, and begot Reu.
11:19. And Phaleg lived after he begot Reu, two hundred and nine years,
and begot sons and daughters.
11:20. And Reu lived thirty-two years, and begot Sarug.
11:21. And Reu lived after he begot Sarug, two hundred and seven years,
and begot sons and daughters.
11:22. And Sarug lived thirty years, and begot Nachor.
11:23. And Sarug lived after he begot Nachor, two hundred years, and
begot sons and daughters.
11:24. And Nachor lived nine and twenty years, and begot Thare.
11:25. And Nachor lived after he begot Thare, a hundred and nineteen
years, and begot sons and daughters.
11:26. And Thare lived seventy years, and begot Abram, and Nachor, and
11:27. And these are the generations of Thare:  Thare begot Abram,
Nachor, and Aran.  And Aran begot Lot.
11:28. And Aran died before Thare his father, in the land of his
nativity in Ur of the Chaldees.
11:29. And Abram and Nachor married wives:  the name of Abram's wife was
Sarai:  and the name of Nachor's wife, Melcha, the daughter of Aran,
father of Melcha and father of Jescha.
11:30. And Sarai was barren, and had no children.
11:31. And Thare took Abram his son, and Lot the son of Aran, his son's
son, and Sarai his daughter in law, the wife of Abram his son, and
brought them out of Ur of the Chaldees, to go into the land of Chanaan:
and they came as far as Haran, and dwelt there.
11:32. And the days of Thare were two hundred and five years, and he
died in Haran.
Genesis Chapter 12
The call of Abram, and the promise made to him.  He sojourneth in
Chanaan, and then by occasion of a famine, goeth down to Egypt.
12:1. And the Lord said to Abram:  Go forth out of thy country, and from
thy kindred, and out of thy father's house, and come into the land
which I shall shew thee.
12:2. And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee,
and magnify thy name, and thou shalt be blessed.
12:3. I will bless them that bless thee, and curse them that curse
thee, and IN THEE shall all the kindreds of the earth be blessed.
12:4. So Abram went out as the Lord had commanded him, and Lot went
with him:  Abram was seventy-five years old when he went forth from
12:5. And he took Sarai his wife, and Lot his brother's son, and all
the substance which they had gathered, and the souls which they had
gotten in Haran:  and they went out to go into the land of Chanaan.  And
when they were come into it,
12:6. Abram passed through the country unto the place of Sichem, as far
as the noble vale:  now the Chanaanite was at that time in the land.
12:7. And the Lord appeared to Abram, and said to him:  To thy seed will
I give this land.  And he built there an altar to the Lord, who had
appeared to him.
12:8. And passing on from thence to a mountain, that was on the east
side of Bethel, he there pitched his tent, having Bethel on the west,
and Hai on the east:  he built there also an altar to the Lord, and
called upon his name.
12:9. And Abram went forward, going and proceeding on to the south.
12:10. And there came a famine in the country:  and Abram went down into
Egypt, to sojourn there:  for the famine was very grievous in the land.
12:11. And when he was near to enter into Egypt, he said to Sarai his
wife:  I know that thou art a beautiful woman:
12:12. And that when the Egyptians shall see thee, they will say:  She
is his wife:  and they will kill me, and keep thee.
12:13. Say, therefore, I pray thee, that thou art my sister:  that I may
be well used for thee, and that my soul may live for thy sake.
My sister. . .This was no lie; because she was his niece, being daughter
to his brother Aran, and therefore, in the style of the Hebrews, she
might truly be called his sister, as Lot is called Abram's brother,
Gen. 14.14.  See Gen. 20.12.
12:14. And when Abram was come into Egypt, the Egyptians saw the woman
that she was very beautiful.
12:15. And the princes told Pharao, and praised her before him:  and the
woman was taken into the house of Pharao.
12:16. And they used Abram well for her sake.  And he had sheep and oxen
and he asses, and men servants, and maid servants, and she asses, and
12:17. But the Lord scourged Pharao and his house with most grievous
stripes for Sarai, Abram's wife.
12:18. And Pharao called Abram, and said to him:  What is this that thou
hast done to me?  Why didst thou not tell me that she was thy wife?
12:19. For what cause didst thou say, she was thy sister, that I might
take her to my wife?  Now therefore there is thy wife, take her, and go
12:20. And Pharao gave his men orders concerning Abram:  and they led
him away and his wife, and all that he had.
Genesis Chapter 13
Abram and Lot part from each other.  God's promise to Abram.
13:1. And Abram went up out of Egypt, he and his wife, and all that he
had, and Lot with him into the south.
13:2. And he was very rich in possession of gold and silver.
13:3. And he returned by the way, that he came, from the south to
Bethel, to the place where before he had pitched his tent between
Bethel and Hai,
13:4. In the place of the altar which he had made before, and there he
called upon the name of the Lord.
13:5. But Lot also, who was with Abram, had flocks of sheep, and herds
of beasts, and tents.
13:6. Neither was the land able to bear them, that they might dwell
together:  for their substance was great, and they could not dwell
13:7. Whereupon also there arose a strife between the herdsmen of Abram
and of Lot.  And at that time the Chanaanite and the Pherezite dwelled
in that country.
13:8. Abram therefore said to Lot:  Let there be no quarrel, I beseech
thee, between me and thee, and between my herdsmen and thy herdsmen:
for we are brethren.
13:9. Behold the whole land is before thee:  depart from me, I pray
thee:  if thou wilt go to the left hand, I will take the right:  if thou
choose the right hand, I will pass to the left.
13:10. And Lot lifting up his eyes, saw all the country about the
Jordan, which was watered throughout, before the Lord destroyed Sodom
and Gomorrha, as the paradise of the Lord, and like Egypt as one comes
13:11. And Lot chose to himself the country about the Jordan, and he
departed from the east:  and they were separated one brother from the
13:12. Abram dwelt in the land of Chanaan:  and Lot abode in the towns,
that were about the Jordan, and dwelt in Sodom.
13:13. And the men of Sodom were very wicked, and sinners before the
face of the Lord beyond measure.
13:14. And the Lord said to Abram, after Lot was separated from him:
Lift up thy eyes, and look from the place wherein thou now art, to the
north and to the south, to the east and to the west.
13:15. All the land which thou seest, I will give to thee, and to thy
seed for ever.
13:16. And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth:  if any man be
able to number the dust of the earth, he shall be able to number thy
13:17. Arise and walk through the land in the length, and the breadth
thereof:  for I will give it to thee.
13:18. So Abram removing his tent, came, and dwelt by the vale of
Mambre, which is in Hebron:  and he built there an altar to the Lord.
Genesis Chapter 14
The expedition of the four kings; the victory of Abram; he is blessed
by Melchisedech.
14:1. And it came to pass at that time, that Amraphel, king of Sennaar,
and Arioch, king of Pontus, and Chodorlahomor, king of the Elamites,
and Thadal, king of nations,
14:2. Made war against Bara, king of Sodom, and against Bersa, king of
Gomorrha, and against Sennaab, king of Adama, and against Semeber, king
of Seboim, and against the king of Bala, which is Segor.
14:3. All these came together into the woodland vale, which now is the
14:4. For they had served Chodorlahomor twelve years, and in the
thirteenth year they revolted from him.
14:5. And in the fourteenth year came Chodorlahomor, and the kings that
were with him:  and they smote the Raphaim in Astarothcarnaim, and the
Zuzim with them, and the Emim in Save of Cariathaim.
14:6. And the Chorreans in the mountains of Seir, even to the plains of
Pharan, which is in the wilderness.
14:7. And they returned, and came to the fountain of Misphat, the same
is Cades:  and they smote all the country of the Amalecites, and the
Amorrhean that dwelt in Asasonthamar.
14:8. And the king of Sodom, and the king of Gomorrha, and the king of
Adama, and the king of Seboim, and the king of Bala, which is Segor,
went out:  and they set themselves against them in battle array, in the
woodland vale:
14:9. To wit, against Chodorlahomor king of the Elamites, and Thadal
king of nations, and Amraphel king of Sennaar, and Arioch king of
Pontus:  four kings against five.
14:10. Now the woodland vale had many pits of slime.  And the king of
Sodom, and the king of Gomorrha turned their backs, and were overthrown
there:  and they that remained, fled to the mountain.
Of slime.  Bituminis. . .This was a kind of pitch, which served for
mortar in the building of Babel, Gen. 11.3, and was used by Noe in
pitching the ark.
14:11. And they took all the substance of the Sodomites, and
Gomorrhites, and all their victuals, and went their way:
14:12. And Lot also, the son of Abram's brother, who dwelt in Sodom,
and his substance.
14:13. And behold one, that had escaped, told Abram the Hebrew, who
dwelt in the vale of Mambre the Amorrhite, the brother of Escol, and
the brother of Aner:  for these had made a league with Abram.
14:14. Which when Abram had heard, to wit, that his brother Lot was
taken, he numbered of the servants born in his house, three hundred and
eighteen, well appointed:  and pursued them to Dan.
14:15. And dividing his company, he rushed upon them in the night, and
defeated them:  and pursued them as far as Hoba, which is on the left
hand of Damascus.
14:16. And he brought back all the substance, and Lot his brother, with
his substance, the women also, and the people.
14:17. And the king of Sodom went out to meet him, after he returned
from the slaughter of Chodorlahomor, and of the kings that were with
him in the vale of Save, which is the king's vale.
14:18. But Melchisedech, the king of Salem, bringing forth bread and
wine, for he was the priest of the most high God,
14:19. Blessed him, and said:  Blessed be Abram by the most high God,
who created heaven and earth.
14:20. And blessed be the most high God, by whose protection, the
enemies are in thy hands.  And he gave him the tithes of all.
14:21. And the king of Sodom said to Abram:  Give me the persons, and
the rest take to thyself.
14:22. And he answered him:  I lift up my hand to the Lord God the most
high, the possessor of heaven and earth,
14:23. That from the very woof thread unto the shoe latchet, I will not
take of any things that are thine, lest thou say:  I have enriched
14:24. Except such things as the young men have eaten, and the shares
of the men that came with me, Aner, Escol, and Mambre:  these shall take
their shares.
Genesis Chapter 15
God promiseth seed to Abram.  His faith, sacrifice and vision.
15:1. Now when these things were done, the word of the Lord came to
Abram by a vision, saying:  Fear not, Abram, I am thy protector, and thy
reward exceeding great.
15:2. And Abram said:  Lord God, what wilt thou give me?  I shall go
without children:  and the son of the steward of my house is this
Damascus Eliezer.
15:3. And Abram added:  But to me thou hast not given seed:  and lo my
servant born in my house, shall be my heir.
15:4. And immediately the word of the Lord came to him, saying :  He
shall not be thy heir:  but he that shall come out of thy bowels, him
shalt thou have for thy heir.
15:5. And he brought him forth abroad, and said to him:  Look up to
heaven and number the stars if thou canst.  And he said to him:  So shall
thy seed be.
15:6. Abram believed God, and it was reputed to him unto justice.
15:7. And he said to him:  I am the Lord who brought thee out from Ur of
the Chaldees, to give thee this land, and that thou mightest possess
15:8. But he said:  Lord God, whereby may I know that I shall possess
15:9. And the Lord answered, and said:  Take me a cow of three years
old, and a she-goat of three years.  and a ram of three years, a turtle
also, and a pigeon.
15:10. And he took all these, and divided them in the midst, and laid
the two pieces of each one against the other:  but the birds he divided
15:11. And the fowls came down upon the carcasses, and Abram drove them
15:12. And when the sun was setting, a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and
a great and darksome horror seized upon him.
15:13. And it was said unto him:  Know thou beforehand that thy seed
shall be a stranger in a land not their own, and they shall bring them
under bondage, and afflict them four hundred years.
15:14. But I will judge the nation which they shall serve, and after
this they shall come out with great substance.
15:15. And thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace, and be buried in a
good old age.
15:16. But in the fourth generation they shall return hither:  for as
yet the iniquities of the Amorrhites are not at the full until this
present time.
15:17. And when the sun was set, there arose a dark mist, and there
appeared a smoking furnace, and a lamp of fire passing between those
15:18. That day God made a covenant with Abram, saying:  To thy seed
will I give this land, from the river to Egypt even to the great river
15:19. The Cineans, and Cenezites, the Cedmonites,
15:20. And the Hethites, and the Pherezites, the Raphaim also,
15:21. And the Amorrhites, and the Chanaanites, and the Gergesites, and
the Jebusites.
Genesis Chapter 16
Abram marrieth Agar, who bringeth forth Ismael.
16:1. Now Sarai, the wife of Abram, had brought forth no children:  but
having a handmaid, an Egyptian, named Agar,
16:2. She said to her husband:  Behold, the Lord hath restrained me from
bearing:  go in unto my handmaid, it may be I may have children of her
at least.  And when he agreed to her request,
16:3. She took Agar the Egyptian her handmaid, ten years after they
first dwelt in the land of Chanaan, and gave her to her husband to
To wife. . .Plurality of wives, though contrary to the primitive
institution of marriage, Gen. 2.24, was by divine dispensation allowed
to the patriarchs:  which allowance seems to have continued during the
time of the law of Moses.  But Christ our Lord reduced marriage to its
primitive institution.  Matt. 19.
16:4. And he went in to her.  But she perceiving that she was with
child, despised her mistress.
16:5. And Sarai said to Abram:  Thou dost unjustly with me:  I gave my
handmaid into thy bosom, and she perceiving herself to be with child,
despiseth me.  The Lord judge between me and thee.
16:6. And Abram made answer, and said to her:  Behold thy handmaid is in
thy own hand, use her as it pleaseth thee.  And when Sarai afflicted
her, she ran away.
16:7. And the angel of the Lord having found her, by a fountain of
water in the wilderness, which is in the way to Sur in the desert,
16:8. He said to her:  Agar, handmaid of Sarai, whence comest thou?  and
whither goest thou?  And she answered:  I flee from the face of Sarai, my
16:9. And the angel of the Lord said to her:  Return to thy mistress,
and humble thyself under her hand.
16:10. And again he said:  I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, and it
shall not be numbered for multitude.
16:11. And again:  Behold, said he, thou art with child, and thou shalt
bring forth a son:  and thou shalt call his name Ismael, because the
Lord hath heard thy affliction.
16:12. He shall be a wild man:  his hand will be against all men, and
all men's hands against him:  and he shall pitch his tents over against
all his brethren.
16:13. And she called the name of the Lord that spoke unto her:  Thou
the God who hast seen me.  For she said:  Verily, here have I seen the
hinder parts of him that seeth me.
16:14. Therefore she called that well, the well of him that liveth and
seeth me.  The same is between Cades and Barad.
16:15. And Agar brought forth a son to Abram:  who called his name
16:16. Abram was four score and six years old when Agar brought him
forth Ismael.
Genesis Chapter 17
The Covenant of circumcision.
17:1. And after he began to be ninety and nine years old, the Lord
appeared to him:  and said unto him:  I am the Almighty God:  walk before
me, and be perfect.
17:2. And I will make my covenant between me and thee:  and I will
multiply thee exceedingly.
17:3. Abram fell flat on his face.
17:4. And God said to him:  I am, and my covenant is with thee, and thou
shalt be a father of many nations.
17:5. Neither shall thy name be called any more Abram:  but thou shalt
be called Abraham:  because I have made thee a father of many nations.
Abram. . .in the Hebrew, signifies a high father:  but Abraham, the
father of the multitude; Sarai signifies my Lady, but Sara absolutely
17:6. And I will make thee increase exceedingly, and I will make
nations of thee, and kings shall come out of thee.
17:7. And I will establish my covenant between me and thee, and between
thy seed after thee in their generations, by a perpetual covenant:  to
be a God to thee, and to thy seed after thee.
17:8. And I will give to thee, and to thy seed, the land of thy
sojournment, all the land of Chanaan, for a perpetual possession, and I
will be their God.
17:9. Again God said to Abraham:  And thou therefore shalt keep my
covenant, and thy seed after thee in their generations.
17:10. This is my covenant which you shall observe between me and you,
and thy seed after thee:  All the male-kind of you shall be circumcised.
17:11. And you shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin, that it may
be for a sign of the covenant between me and you.
17:12. An infant of eight days old shall be circumcised among you,
every manchild in your generations:  he that is born in the house, as
well as the bought servant, shall be circumcised, and whosoever is not
of your stock:
17:13. And my covenant shall be in your flesh for a perpetual covenant.
17:14. The male whose flesh of his foreskin shall not be circumcised,
that soul shall be destroyed out of his people:  because he hath broken
my covenant.
17:15. God said also to Abraham:  Sarai thy wife thou shalt not call
Sarai, but Sara.
17:16. And I will bless her, and of her I will give thee a son, whom I
will bless, and he shall become nations, and kings of people shall
spring from him.
17:17. Abraham fell upon his face, and laughed, saying in his heart:
Shall a son, thinkest thou, be born to him that is a hundred years old?
and shall Sara that is ninety years old bring forth?
17:18. And he said to God:  O that Ismael may live before thee.
17:19. And God said to Abraham:  Sara thy wife shall bear thee a son,
and thou shalt call his name Isaac, and I will establish my covenant
with him for a perpetual covenant, and with his seed after him.
17:20. And as for Ismael I have also heard thee.  Behold, I will bless
him, and increase, and multiply him exceedingly:  he shall beget twelve
chiefs, and I will make him a great nation.
17:21. But my covenant I will establish with Isaac, whom Sara shall
bring forth to thee at this time in the next year.
17:22. And when he had left off speaking with him, God went up from
17:23. And Abraham took Ismael his son, and all that were born in his
house:  and all whom he had bought, every male among the men of his
house:  and he circumcised the flesh of their foreskin forthwith the
very same day, as God had commanded him.
17:24. Abraham was ninety and nine years old, when he circumcised the
flesh of his foreskin.
17:25. And Ismael his son was full thirteen years old at the time of
his circumcision.
17:26. The self-same day was Abraham circumcised and Ismael his son.
17:27. And all the men of his house, as well they that were born in his
house, as the bought servants and strangers, were circumcised with him.
Genesis Chapter 18
Angels are entertained by Abraham.  They foretell the birth of Isaac.
Abraham's prayer for the men of Sodom.
18:1. And the Lord appeared to him in the vale of Mambre as he was
sitting at the door of his tent, in the very heat of the day.
18:2. And when he had lifted up his eyes, there appeared to him three
men standing near to him:  and as soon as he saw them, he ran to meet
them from the door of his tent, and adored down to the ground.
18:3. And he said:  Lord, if I have found favour in thy sight, pass not
away from thy servant.
18:4. But I will fetch a little water, and wash ye your feet, and rest
ye under the tree.
18:5. And I will set a morsel of bread, and strengthen ye your heart,
afterwards you shall pass on:  for therefore are you come aside to your
servant.  And they said:  Do as thou hast spoken.
18:6. Abraham made haste into the tent to Sara, and said to her:  Make
haste, temper together three measures of flour, and make cakes upon the
18:7. And he himself ran to the herd, and took from thence a calf, very
tender and very good, and gave it to a young man, who made haste and
18:8. He took also butter and milk, and the calf which he had boiled,
and set before them:  but he stood by them under the tree.
18:9. And when they had eaten, they said to him:  Where is Sara thy
wife?  He answered:  Lo she is in the tent.
18:10. And he said to him:  I will return and come to thee at this time,
life accompanying, and Sara, thy wife, shall have a son.  Which when
Sara heard, she laughed behind the door of the tent.
18:11. Now they were both old, and far advanced in years, and it had
ceased to be with Sara after the manner of women.
18:12. And she laughed secretly, saying:  After I am grown old, and my
lord is an old man, shall I give myself to pleasure?
18:13. And the Lord said to Abraham:  Why did Sara laugh, saying:  Shall
I, who am an old woman, bear a child indeed?
18:14. Is there any thing hard to God?  According to appointment I will
return to thee at this same time, life accompanying, and Sara shall
18:15. Sara denied, saying:  I did not laugh:  for she was afraid.  But
the Lord said:  Nay; but thou didst laugh.
18:16. And when the men rose up from thence, they turned their eyes
towards Sodom:  and Abraham walked with them, bringing them on the way.
18:17. And the Lord said:  Can I hide from Abraham what I am about to
18:18. Seeing he shall become a great and mighty nation, and in him all
the nations of the earth shall be blessed?
18:19. For I know that he will command his children, and his household
after him, to keep the way of the Lord, and do judgment and justice:
that for Abraham's sake, the Lord may bring to effect all the things he
hath spoken unto him.
18:20. And the Lord said:  The cry of Sodom and Gomorrha is multiplied,
and their sin is become exceedingly grievous.
18:21. I will go down and see whether they have done according to the
cry that is come to me; or whether it be not so, that I may know.
I will go down, etc. . .The Lord here accommodates his discourse to the
way of speaking and acting amongst men; for he knoweth all things, and
needeth not to go anywhere for information.  Note here, that two of the
three angels went away immediately for Sodom; whilst the third, who
represented the Lord, remained with Abraham.
18:22. And they turned themselves from thence, and went their way to
Sodom:  but Abraham as yet stood before the Lord.
18:23. And drawing nigh, he said:  Wilt thou destroy the just with the
18:24. If there be fifty just men in the city, shall they perish
withal?  and wilt thou not spare that place for the sake of the fifty
just, if they be therein?
18:25. Far be it from thee to do this thing, and to slay the just with
the wicked, and for the just to be in like case as the wicked; this is
not beseeming thee:  thou who judgest all the earth, wilt not make this
18:26. And the Lord said to him:  If I find in Sodom fifty just within
the city, I will spare the whole place for their sake.
18:27. And Abraham answered, and said:  Seeing I have once begun, I will
speak to my Lord, whereas I am dust and ashes.
18:28. What if there be five less than fifty just persons?  wilt thou
for five and forty destroy the whole city:  And he said:  I will not
destroy it, if I find five and forty.
18:29. And again he said to him:  But if forty be found there, what wilt
thou do?  He said:  I will not destroy it for the sake of forty.
18:30. Lord, saith he, be not angry, I beseech thee, if I speak:  What
if thirty shall be found there?  He answered:  I will not do it, if I
find thirty there.
18:31. Seeing, saith he, I have once begun, I will speak to my Lord:
What if twenty be found there?  He said:  I will not destroy it for the
sake of twenty.
18:32. I beseech thee, saith he, be not angry, Lord, if I speak yet
once more:  What if ten shall be found there?  And he said:  I will not
destroy it for the sake of ten.
18:33. And the Lord departed, after he had left speaking to Abraham:
and Abraham returned to his place.
Genesis Chapter 19
Lot, entertaining Angels in his house, is delivered from Sodom, which
is destroyed:  his wife for looking back is turned into a statue of
19:1. And the two angels came to Sodom in the evening, and Lot was
sitting in the gate of the city.  And seeing them, he rose up and went
to meet them:  and worshipped prostrate to the ground.
19:2. And said:  I beseech you, my lords, turn in to the house of your
servant, and lodge there:  wash your feet, and in the morning you shall
go on your way.  And they said:  No, but we will abide in the street.
19:3. He pressed them very much to turn in unto him:  and when they were
come into his house, he made them a feast, and baked unleavened bread,
and they ate:
19:4. But before they went to bed, the men of the city beset the house,
both young and old, all the people together.
19:5. And they called Lot, and said to him:  Where are the men that came
in to thee at night?  bring them out hither, that we may know them:
19:6. Lot went out to them, and shut the door after him, and said:
19:7. Do not so, I beseech you, my brethren, do not commit this evil.
19:8. I have two daughters who, as yet, have not known man; I will
bring them out to you, and abuse you them as it shall please you, so
that you do no evil to these men, because they are come in under the
shadow of my roof.
19:9. But they said:  Get thee back thither.  And again:  Thou camest in,
said they, as a stranger, was it to be a judge?  therefore we will
afflict thee more than them.  And they pressed very violently upon Lot:
and they were even at the point of breaking open the doors.
19:10. And behold the men put out their hand, and drew in Lot unto
them, and shut the door.
19:11. And them, that were without, they struck with blindness from the
least to the greatest, so that they could not find the door.
19:12. And they said to Lot:  Hast thou here any of thine?  son in law,
or sons, or daughters, all that are thine bring them out of this city:
19:13. For we will destroy this place, because their cry is grown loud
before the Lord, who hath sent us to destroy them.
19:14. So Lot went out, and spoke to his sons in law that were to have
his daughters, and said:  Arise:  get you out of this place, because the
Lord will destroy this city.  And he seemed to them to speak as it were
19:15. And when it was morning, the angels pressed him, saying:  Arise,
take thy wife, and the two daughters that thou hast:  lest thou also
perish in the wickedness of the city.
19:16. And as he lingered, they took his hand, and the hand of his
wife, and of his two daughters, because the Lord spared him.
19:17. And they brought him forth, and set him without the city:  and
there they spoke to him, saying:  Save thy life:  look not back, neither
stay thou in all the country about:  but save thy self in the mountain,
lest thou be also consumed.
19:18. And Lot said to them:  I beseech thee, my Lord,
19:19. Because thy servant hath found grace before thee, and thou hast
magnified thy mercy, which thou hast shewn to me, in saving my life,
and I cannot escape to the mountain, lest some evil seize me, and I
19:20. There is this city here at hand, to which I may flee, it is a
little one, and I shall be saved in it:  is it not a little one, and my
soul shall live?
19:21. And he said to him:  Behold also in this, I have heard thy
prayers, not to destroy the city for which thou hast spoken.
19:22. Make haste, and be saved there:  because I cannot do any thing
till thou go in thither.  Therefore the name of that city was called
Segor. . .That is, a little one.
19:23. The sun was risen upon the earth, and Lot entered into Segor.
19:24. And the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrha brimstone and fire
from the Lord out of heaven.
19:25. And he destroyed these cities, and all the country about, all
the inhabitants of the cities, and all things that spring from the
19:26. And his wife looking behind her, was turned into a statue of
And his wife. . .As a standing memorial to the servants of God to
proceed in virtue, and not to look back to vice or its allurements.
19:27. And Abraham got up early in the morning, and in the place where
he had stood before with the Lord:
19:28. He looked towards Sodom and Gomorrha, and the whole land of that
country:  and he saw the ashes rise up from the earth as the smoke of a
19:29. Now when God destroyed the cities of that country, remembering
Abraham, he delivered Lot out of the destruction of the cities wherein
he had dwelt.
19:30. And Lot went up out of Segor, and abode in the mountain, and his
two daughters with him (for he was afraid to stay in Segor) and he
dwelt in a cave, he and his two daughters with him.
19:31. And the elder said to the younger:  Our father is old, and there
is no man left on the earth, to come in unto us after the manner of the
whole earth.
19:32. Come, let us make him drunk with wine, and let us lie with him,
that we may preserve seed of our father.
19:33. And they made their father drink wine that night:  and the elder
went in, and lay with her father:  but he perceived not, neither when
his daughter lay down, nor when she rose up.
19:34. And the next day the elder said to the younger:  Behold I lay
last night with my father, let us make him drink wine also to night,
and thou shalt lie with him, that we may save seed of our father.
19:35. They made their father drink wine that night also, and the
younger daughter went in, and lay with him:  and neither then did he
perceive when she lay down, nor when she rose up.
19:36. So the two daughters of Lot were with child by their father.
19:37. And the elder bore a son, and she called his name Moab:  he is
the father of the Moabites unto this day.
19:38. The younger also bore a son, and she called his name Ammon; that
is, the son of my people:  he is the father of the Ammonites unto this
Genesis Chapter 20
Abraham sojourned in Gerara:  Sara is taken into king Abimelech's house,
but by God's commandment is restored untouched.
20:1. Abraham removed from thence to the south country, and dwelt
between Cades and Sur, and sojourned in Gerara.
20:2. And he said of Sara his wife:  She is my sister.  So Abimelech the
king of Gerara sent, and took her.
20:3. And God came to Abimelech in a dream by night, and he said to
him:  Lo thou shalt die for the woman that thou hast taken:  for she hath
20:4. Now Abimelech had not touched her, and he said:  Lord, wilt thou
slay a nation that is ignorant and just?
20:5. Did not he say to me:  She is my sister:  and she say, He is my
brother?  in the simplicity of my heart, and cleanness of my hands have
I done this.
20:6. And God said to him:  And I know that thou didst it with a sincere
heart:  and therefore I withheld thee from sinning against me, and I
suffered thee not to touch her.
20:7. Now therefore restore the man his wife, for he is a prophet:  and
he shall pray for thee, and thou shalt live:  but if thou wilt not
restore her, know that thou shalt surely die, thou and all that are
20:8. And Abimelech forthwith rising up in the night, called all his
servants:  and spoke all these words in their hearing, and all the men
were exceedingly afraid.
20:9. And Abimelech called also for Abraham, and said to him:  What hast
thou done to us?  what have we offended thee in, that thou hast brought
upon me and upon my kingdom a great sin?  thou hast done to us what thou
oughtest not to do.
20:10. And again he expostulated with him, and said:  What sawest thou,
that thou hast done this?
20:11. Abraham answered:  I thought with myself, saying:  Perhaps there
is not the fear of God in this place:  and they will kill me for the
sake of my wife:
20:12. Howbeit, otherwise also she is truly my sister, the daughter of
my father, and not the daughter of my mother, and I took her to wife.
20:13. And after God brought me out of my father's house, I said to
her:  Thou shalt do me this kindness:  In every place, to which we shall
come, thou shalt say that I am thy brother.
20:14. And Abimelech took sheep and oxen, and servants and handmaids,
and gave to Abraham:  and restored to him Sara his wife,
20:15. And said:  The land is before you, dwell wheresoever it shall
please thee.
20:16. And to Sara he said:  Behold I have given thy brother a thousand
pieces of silver, this shall serve thee for a covering of thy eyes to
all that are with thee, and whithersoever thou shalt go:  and remember
thou wast taken.
20:17. And when Abraham prayed, God healed Abimelech and his wife, and
his handmaids, and they bore children:
20:18. For the Lord had closed up every womb of the house of Abimelech,
on account of Sara, Abraham's wife.
Genesis Chapter 21
Isaac is born.  Agar and Ismael are cast forth.
21:1. And the Lord visited Sara, as he had promised:  and fulfilled what
he had spoken.
21:2. And she conceived and bore a son in her old age, at the time that
God had foretold her.
21:3. And Abraham called the name of his son, whom Sara bore him,
Isaac. . .This word signifies laughter.
21:4. And he circumcised him the eighth day, as God had commanded him,
21:5. When he was a hundred years old:  for at this age of his father,
was Isaac born.
21:6. And Sara said:  God hath made a laughter for me:  whosoever shall
hear of it will laugh with me.
21:7. And again she said:  Who would believe that Abraham should hear
that Sara gave suck to a son, whom she bore to him in his old age?
21:8. And the child grew, and was weaned:  and Abraham made a great
feast on the day of his weaning.
21:9. And when Sara had seen the son of Agar, the Egyptian, playing
with Isaac, her son, she said to Abraham:
21:10. Cast out this bondwoman and her son; for the son of the
bondwoman shall not be heir with my son Isaac.
21:11. Abraham took this grievously for his son.
21:12. And God said to him:  Let it not seem grievous to thee for the
boy, and for thy bondwoman:  in all that Sara hath said to thee, hearken
to her voice:  for in Isaac shall thy seed be called.
21:13. But I will make the son also of the bondwoman a great nation,
because he is thy seed.
21:14. So Abraham rose up in the morning, and taking bread and a bottle
of water, put it upon her shoulder, and delivered the boy, and sent her
away.  And she departed, and wandered in the wilderness of Bersabee.
21:15. And when the water in the bottle was spent, she cast the boy
under one of the trees that were there.
21:16. And she went her way, and sat over against him a great way off,
as far as a bow can carry, for she said:  I will not see the boy die:
and sitting over against, she lifted up her voice and wept.
21:17. And God heard the voice of the boy:  and an angel of God called
to Agar from heaven, saying:  What art thou doing, Agar?  fear not; for
God hath heard the voice of the boy, from the place wherein he is.
21:18. Arise, take up the boy, and hold him by the hand, for I will
make him a great nation.
21:19. And God opened her eyes:  and she saw a well of water, and went
and filled the bottle, and gave the boy to drink.
21:20. And God was with him:  and he grew, and dwelt in the wilderness,
and became a young man, an archer.
21:21. And he dwelt in the wilderness of Pharan, and his mother took a
wife for him out of the land of Egypt.
21:22. At the same time Abimelech, and Phicol the general of his army,
said to Abraham:  God is with thee in all that thou dost.
21:23. Swear therefore by God, that thou wilt not hurt me, nor my
posterity, nor my stock:  but according to the kindness that I have done
to thee, thou shalt do to me, and to the land wherein thou hast lived a
21:24. And Abraham said:  I will swear.
21:25. And he reproved Abimelech for a well of water, which his
servants had taken away by force.
21:26. And Abimelech answered:  I knew not who did this thing:  and thou
didst not tell me, and I heard not of it till today.
21:27. Then Abraham took sheep and oxen, and gave them to Abimelech:
and both of them made a league.
21:28. And Abraham set apart seven ewelambs of the flock.
21:29. And Abimelech said to him:  What mean these seven ewelambs which
thou hast set apart?
21:30. But he said:  Thou shalt take seven ewelambs at my hand:  that
they may be a testimony for me, that I dug this well.
21:31. Therefore that place was called Bersabee; because there both of
them did swear.
Bersabee. . .That is, the well of oath.
21:32. And they made a league for the well of oath.
21:33. And Abimelech and Phicol, the general of his army, arose and
returned to the land of the Palestines.  But Abraham planted a grove in
Bersabee, and there called upon the name of the Lord God eternal.
21:34. And he was a sojourner in the land of the Palestines many days.
Genesis Chapter 22
The faith and obedience of Abraham is proved in his readiness to
sacrifice his son Isaac.  He is stayed from the act by an angel.  Former
promises are renewed to him.  His brother Nachor's issue.
22:1. After these things, God tempted Abraham, and said to him:
Abraham, Abraham.  And he answered:  Here I am.
God tempted, etc. . .God tempteth no man to evil, James 1.13; but by
trial and experiment maketh known to the world, and to ourselves, what
we are, as here by this trial the singular faith and obedience of
Abraham was made manifest.
22:2. He said to him:  Take thy only begotten son Isaac, whom thou
lovest, and go into the land of vision; and there thou shalt offer him
for an holocaust upon one of the mountains which I will shew thee.
22:3. So Abraham rising up in the night, saddled his ass, and took with
him two young men, and Isaac his son:  and when he had cut wood for the
holocaust, he went his way to the place which God had commanded him.
22:4. And on the third day, lifting up his eyes, he saw the place afar
22:5. And he said to his young men:  Stay you here with the ass; I and
the boy will go with speed as far as yonder, and after we have
worshipped, will return to you.
22:6. And he took the wood for the holocaust, and laid it upon Isaac
his son; and he himself carried in his hands fire and a sword.  And as
they two went on together,
22:7. Isaac said to his father:  My father.  And he answered:  What wilt
thou, son?  Behold, saith he, fire and wood:  where is the victim for the
22:8. And Abraham said:  God will provide himself a victim for an
holocaust, my son.  So they went on together.
22:9. And they came to the place which God had shewn him, where he
built an altar, and laid the wood in order upon it; and when he had
bound Isaac his son, he laid him on the altar upon the pile of wood.
22:10. And he put forth his hand, and took the sword, to sacrifice his
22:11. And behold, an angel of the Lord from heaven called to him,
saying:  Abraham, Abraham.  And he answered:  Here I am.
22:12. And he said to him:  Lay not thy hand upon the boy, neither do
thou any thing to him:  now I know that thou fearest God, and hast not
spared thy only begotten son for my sake.
22:13. Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw behind his back a ram,
amongst the briers, sticking fast by the horns, which he took and
offered for a holocaust instead of his son.
22:14. And he called the name of that place, The Lord seeth.  Whereupon,
even to this day, it is said:  In the mountain the Lord will see.
22:15. And the angel of the Lord called to Abraham a second time from
heaven, saying:
22:16. By my own self have I sworn, saith the Lord:  because thou hast
done this thing, and hast not spared thy only begotten son for my sake:
22:17. I will bless thee, and I will multiply thy seed as the stars of
heaven, and as the sand that is by the sea shore; thy seed shall
possess the gates of their enemies.
22:18. And in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed,
because thou hast obeyed my voice.
22:19. Abraham returned to his young men, and they went to Bersabee
together, and he dwelt there.
22:20. After these things, it was told Abraham, that Melcha also had
borne children to Nachor his brother.
22:21. Hus, the firstborn, and Buz, his brother, and Camuel the father
of the Syrians,
22:22. And Cased, and Azau, and Pheldas, and Jedlaph,
22:23. And Bathuel, of whom was born Rebecca:  these eight did Melcha
bear to Nachor, Abraham's brother.
22:24. And his concubine, named Roma, bore Tabee, and Gaham, and Tahas,
Genesis Chapter 23
Sara's death and burial in the field bought of Ephron.
23:1. And Sara lived a hundred and twenty-seven years.
23:2. And she died in the city of Arbee which is Hebron, in the land of
Chanaan:  and Abraham came to mourn and weep for her.
23:3. And after he rose up from the funeral obsequies, he spoke to the
children of Heth, saying:
23:4. I am a stranger and sojourner among you:  give me the right of a
burying place with you, that I may bury my dead.
23:5. The children of Heth answered, saying:
23:6. My lord, hear us, thou art a prince of God among us:  bury thy
dead in our principal sepulchres:  and no man shall have power to hinder
thee from burying thy dead in his sepulchre.
23:7. Abraham rose up, and bowed down to the people of the land, to
wit, the children of Heth:
Bowed down to the people. . .Adoravit, literally adored.  But this word
here, as well as in many other places in the Latin scriptures, is used
to signify only an inferior honour and reverence paid to men, expressed
by a bowing down of the body.
23:8. And said to them:  If it please your soul that I should bury my
dead, hear me, and intercede for me to Ephron the son of Seor.
23:9. That he may give me the double cave, which he hath in the end of
his field:  For as much money as it is worth he shall give it me before
you, for a possession of a burying place.
23:10. Now Ephron dwelt in the midst of the children of Heth.  And
Ephron made answer to Abraham in the hearing of all that went in at the
gate of the city, saying:
23:11. Let it not be so, my lord, but do thou rather hearken to what I
say:  The field I deliver to thee, and the cave that is therein; in the
presence of the children of my people, bury thy dead.
23:12. Abraham bowed down before the people of the land.
23:13. And he spoke to Ephron, in the presence of the people:  I beseech
thee to hear me:  I will give money for the field; take it, and so will
I bury my dead in it.
23:14. And Ephron answered:
23:15. My lord, hear me.  The ground which thou desirest, is worth four
hundred sicles of silver:  this is the price between me and thee:  but
what is this?  bury thy dead.
23:16. And when Abraham had heard this, he weighed out the money that
Ephron had asked, in the hearing of the children of Heth, four hundred
sicles of silver, of common current money.
23:17. And the field that before was Ephron's, wherein was the double
cave, looking towards Mambre, both it and the cave, and all the trees
thereof, in all its limits round about,
23:18. Was made sure to Abraham for a possession, in the sight of the
children of Heth, and of all that went in at the gate of his city.
23:19. And so Abraham buried Sara, his wife, in the double cave of the
field, that looked towards Mambre, this is Hebron in the land of
23:20. And the field was made sure to Abraham, and the cave that was in
it, for a possession to bury in, by the children of Heth.
Genesis Chapter 24
Abraham's servant, sent by him into Mesopotamia, bringeth from thence
Rebecca, who is married to Isaac.
24:1. Now Abraham was old, and advanced in age; and the Lord had
blessed him in all things.
24:2. And he said to the elder servant of his house, who was ruler over
all he had:  Put thy hand under my thigh,
24:3. That I may make thee swear by the Lord, the God of heaven and
earth, that thou take not a wife for my son, of the daughters of the
Chanaanites, among whom I dwell:
24:4. But that thou go to my own country and kindred, and take a wife
from thence for my son Isaac.
24:5. The servant answered:  If the woman will not come with me into
this land, must I bring thy son back again to the place from whence
thou camest out?
24:6. And Abraham said:  Beware thou never bring my son back again
24:7. The Lord God of heaven, who took me out of my father's house, and
out of my native country, who spoke to me, and swore to me, saying:  To
thy seed will I give this land:  he will send his angel before thee, and
thou shalt take from thence a wife for my son.
He will send his angel before thee. . .This shows that the Hebrews
believed that God gave them guardian angels for their protection.
24:8. But if the woman will not follow thee, thou shalt not be bound by
the oath:  only bring not my son back thither again.
24:9. The servant, therefore, put his hand under the thigh of Abraham,
his lord, and swore to him upon his word.
24:10. And he took ten camels of his master's herd, and departed,
carrying something of all his goods with him, and he set forward and
went on to Mesopotamia, to the city of Nachor.
24:11. And when he had made the camels lie down without the town, near
a well of water, in the evening, at the time when women are wont to
come out to draw water, he said:
24:12. O Lord, the God of my master, Abraham, meet me today, I beseech
thee, and shew kindness to my master, Abraham.
24:13. Behold, I stand nigh the spring of water, and the daughters of
the inhabitants of this city will come out to draw water:
24:14. Now, therefore, the maid to whom I shall say:  Let down thy
pitcher that I may drink:  and she shall answer, Drink, and I will give
thy camels drink also:  let it be the same whom thou hast provided for
thy servant Isaac:  and by this, I shall understand that thou hast shewn
kindness to my master.
24:15. He had not yet ended these words within himself, and behold
Rebecca came out, the daughter of Bathuel, son of Melcha, wife to
Nachor the brother of Abraham, having a pitcher on her shoulder:
24:16. An exceeding comely maid, and a most beautiful virgin, and not
known to man:  and she went down to the spring, and filled her pitcher,
and was coming back.
24:17. And the servant ran to meet her, and said:  Give me a little
water to drink of thy pitcher.
24:18. And she answered:  Drink, my lord.  And quickly she let down the
pitcher upon her arm, and gave him drink.
24:19. And when he had drunk, she said:  I will draw water for thy
camels also, till they all drink.
24:20. And pouring out the pitcher into the troughs, she ran back to
the well to draw water; and having drawn, she gave to all the camels.
24:21. But he musing, beheld her with silence, desirous to know whether
the Lord had made his journey prosperous or not.
24:22. And after that the camels had drunk, the man took out golden
earrings, weighing two sicles; and as many bracelets, of ten sicles
24:23. And he said to her:  Whose daughter art thou?  tell me:  is there
any place in thy father's house to lodge?
24:24. And she answered:  I am the daughter of Bathuel, the son of
Melcha, whom she bore to Nachor.
24:25. And she said, moreover, to him:  We have good store of both straw
and hay, and a large place to lodge in.
24:26. The man bowed himself down, and adored the Lord,
24:27. Saying:  Blessed be the Lord God of my master Abraham, who hath
not taken away his mercy and truth from my master, and hath brought me
the straight way into the house of my master's brother.
24:28. Then the maid ran, and told in her mother's house all that she
24:29. And Rebecca had a brother, named Laban, who went out in haste to
the man, to the well.
24:30. And when he had seen the earrings and bracelets in his sister's
hands, and had heard all that she related, saying, Thus and thus the
man spoke to me:  he came to the man who stood by the camels, and near
to the spring of water,
24:31. And said to him:  Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; why standest
thou without?  I have prepared the house, and a place for the camels.
24:32. And he brought him into his lodging; and he unharnessed the
camels, and gave straw and hay, and water to wash his feet, and the
feet of the men that were come with him.
24:33. And bread was set before him.  But he said:  I will not eat, till
I tell my message.  He answered him:  Speak.
24:34. And he said:  I am the servant of Abraham:
24:35. And the Lord hath blessed my master wonderfully, and he is
become great:  and he hath given him sheep and oxen, silver and gold,
men servants and women servants, camels and asses.
24:36. And Sara, my master's wife, hath borne my master a son in her
old age, and he hath given him all that he had.
24:37. And my master made me swear, saying:  Thou shalt not take a wife
for my son of the Chanaanites, in whose land I dwell:
24:38. But thou shalt go to my father's house, and shalt take a wife of
my own kindred for my son:
24:39. But I answered my master:  What if the woman will not come with
24:40. The Lord, said he, in whose sight I walk, will send his angel
with thee, and will direct thy way:  and thou shalt take a wife for my
son of my own kindred, and of my father's house.
24:41. But thou shalt be clear from my curse, when thou shalt come to
my kindred, if they will not give thee one.
24:42. And I came today to the well of water, and said:  O Lord God of
my master, Abraham, if thou hast prospered my way, wherein I now walk,
24:43. Behold, I stand by the well of water, and the virgin, that shall
come out to draw water, who shall hear me say:  Give me a little water
to drink of thy pitcher:
24:44. And shall say to me:  Both drink thou, and I will also draw for
thy camels:  let the same be the woman, whom the Lord hath prepared for
my master's son.
24:45. And whilst I pondered these things secretly with myself, Rebecca
appeared, coming with a pitcher, which she carried on her shoulder:  and
she went down to the well and drew water.  And I said to her:  Give me a
little to drink.
24:46. And she speedily let down the pitcher from her shoulder, and
said to me:  Both drink thou, and to thy camels I will give drink.  I
drank, and she watered the camels.
24:47. And I asked her, and said:  Whose daughter art thou?  And she
answered:  I am the daughter of Bathuel, the son of Nachor, whom Melcha
bore to him.  So I put earrings on her to adorn her face, and I put
bracelets on her hands.
24:48. And falling down, I adored the Lord, blessing the Lord God of my
master, Abraham, who hath brought me the straight way to take the
daughter of my master's brother for his son.
24:49. Wherefore, if you do according to mercy and truth with my
master, tell me:  but if it please you otherwise, tell me that also,
that I may go to the right hand, or to the left.
24:50. And Laban and Bathuel answered:  The word hath proceeded from the
Lord:  we cannot speak any other thing to thee but his pleasure.
24:51. Behold, Rebecca is before thee, take her and go thy way, and let
her be the wife of thy master's son, as the Lord hath spoken.
24:52. Which when Abraham's servant heard, falling down to the ground,
he adored the Lord.
24:53. And bringing forth vessels of silver and gold, and garments, he
gave them to Rebecca, for a present.  He offered gifts also to her
brothers, and to her mother.
24:54. And a banquet was made, and they ate and drank together, and
lodged there.  And in the morning, the servant arose, and said:  Let me
depart, that I may go to my master.
24:55. And her brother and mother answered:  Let the maid stay, at
least, ten days with us, and afterwards she shall depart.
24:56. Stay me not, said he, because the Lord hath prospered my way:
send me away, that I may go to my master.
24:57. And they said:  Let us call the maid, and ask her will.
Let us call the maid, and ask her will. . .Not as to her marriage, as
she had already consented, but of her quitting her parents and going to
her husband.
24:58. And they called her, and when she was come, they asked:  Wilt
thou go with this man?  She said:  I will go.
24:59. So they sent her away, and her nurse, and Abraham's servant, and
his company.
24:60. Wishing prosperity to their sister, and saying:  Thou art our
sister, mayst thou increase to thousands of thousands; and may thy seed
possess the gates of their enemies.
24:61. So Rebecca and her maids, being set upon camels, followed the
man:  who with speed returned to his master.
24:62. At the same time, Isaac was walking along the way to the well
which is called Of the living and the seeing:  for he dwelt in the south
24:63. And he was gone forth to meditate in the field, the day being
now well spent:  and when he had lifted up his eyes, he saw camels
coming afar off.
24:64. Rebecca also, when she saw Isaac, lighted off the camel,
24:65. And said to the servant:  Who is that man who cometh towards us
along the field?  And he said to her:  That man is my master.  But she
quickly took her cloak, and covered herself.
24:66. And the servant told Isaac all that he had done.
24:67. Who brought her into the tent of Sara his mother, and took her
to wife:  and he loved her so much, that it moderated the sorrow which
was occasioned by his mother's death.
Genesis Chapter 25
Abraham's children by Cetura; his death and that of Ismael.  Isaac hath
Esau and Jacob twins.  Esau selleth his first birthright to Jacob.
25:1. And Abraham married another wife named Cetura:
25:2. Who bore him Zamram, and Jecsan, and Madan, and Madian, and
Jesboc, and Sue.
25:3. Jecsan also begot Saba, and Dadan.  The children of Dadan were
Assurim, and Latusim, and Loomim.
25:4. But of Madian was born Epha, and Opher, and Henoch, and Abida,
and Eldaa:  all these were the children of Cetura.
25:5. And Abraham gave all his possessions to Isaac:
25:6. And to the children of the concubines he gave gifts, and
separated them from Isaac his son, while he yet lived, to the east
Concubines. . .Agar and Cetura are here called concubines, (though they
were lawful wives, and in other places are so called,) because they
were of an inferior degree, and such in scripture are usually called
25:7. And the days of Abraham's life were a hundred and seventy-five
25:8. And decaying he died in a good old age, and having lived a long
time, and being full of days:  and was gathered to his people.
25:9. And Isaac and Ismael his sons buried him in the double cave,
which was situated in the field of Ephron the son of Seor the Hethite,
over against Mambre,
25:10. Which he had bought of the children of Heth:  there was he
buried, and Sara his wife.
25:11. And after his death, God blessed Isaac his son, who dwelt by the
well named Of the living and seeing.
25:12. These are the generations of Ismael the son of Abraham, whom
Agar the Egyptian, Sara's servant, bore unto him:
25:13. And these are the names of his children according to their
calling and generations.  The firstborn of Ismael was Nabajoth, then
Cedar, and Adbeel, and Mabsam,
25:14. And Masma, and Duma, and Massa,
25:15. Hadar, and Thema, and Jethur, and Naphis, and Cedma.
25:16. These are the sons of Ismael:  and these are their names by their
castles and towns, twelve princes of their tribes.
25:17. And the years of Ismael's life were a hundred and thirty-seven,
and decaying he died, and was gathered unto his people.
25:18. And he dwelt from Hevila as far as Sur, which looketh towards
Egypt, to them that go towards the Assyrians.  He died in the presence
of all his brethren.
25:19. These also are the generations of Isaac the son of Abraham:
Abraham begot Isaac:
25:20. Who when he was forty years old, took to wife Rebecca the
daughter of Bathuel the Syrian of Mesopotamia, sister to Laban.
25:21. And Isaac besought the Lord for his wife, because she was
barren:  and he heard him, and made Rebecca to conceive.
25:22. But the children struggled in her womb, and she said:  If it were
to be so with me, what need was there to conceive?  And she went to
consult the Lord.
25:23. And he answering, said:  Two nations are in thy womb, and two
peoples shall be divided out of thy womb, and one people shall overcome
the other, and the elder shall serve the younger.
25:24. And when her time was come to be delivered, behold twins were
found in her womb.
25:25. He that came forth first was red, and hairy like a skin:  and his
name was called Esau.  Immediately the other coming forth, held his
brother's foot in his hand:  and therefore he was called Jacob.
25:26. Isaac was threescore years old when the children were born unto
25:27. And when they were grown up, Esau became a skilful hunter, and a
husbandman:  but Jacob, a plain man, dwelt in tents.
25:28. Isaac loved Esau, because he ate of his hunting:  and Rebecca
loved Jacob.
25:29. And Jacob boiled pottage:  to whom Esau, coming faint out of the
25:30. Said:  Give me of this red pottage, for I am exceeding faint.  For
which reason his name was called Edom.
25:31. And Jacob said to him:  Sell me thy first birthright.
25:32. He answered:  Lo I die, what will the first birthright avail me?
25:33. Jacob said:  Swear therefore to me.  Esau swore to him, and sold
his first birthright.
25:34. And so taking bread and the pottage of lentils, he ate, and
drank, and went on his way; making little account of having sold his
first birthright.
Genesis Chapter 26
Isaac sojourneth in Gerara, where God reneweth to him the promise made
to Abraham.  King Abimelech maketh league with him.
26:1. And when a famine came in the land, after that barrenness which
had happened in the days of Abraham, Isaac went to Abimelech, king of
the Palestines, to Gerara.
26:2. And the Lord appeared to him, and said:  Go not down into Egypt,
but stay in the land that I shall tell thee.
26:3. And sojourn in it, and I will be with thee, and will bless thee:
for to thee and to thy seed I will give all these countries, to fulfil
the oath which I swore to Abraham thy father.
26:4. And I will multiply thy seed like the stars of heaven:  and I will
give to thy posterity all these countries:  and in thy seed shall all
the nations of the earth be blessed.
26:5. Because Abraham obeyed my voice, and kept my precepts and
commandments, and observed my ceremonies and laws.
26:6. So Isaac abode in Gerara.
26:7. And when he was asked by the men of that place, concerning his
wife, he answered:  She is my sister:  for he was afraid to confess that
she was his wife, thinking lest perhaps they would kill him because of
26:8. And when very many days were passed, and he abode there,
Abimelech, king of the Palestines, looking out through a window, saw
him playing with Rebecca, his wife.
26:9. And calling for him, he said:  It is evident she is thy wife:  why
didst thou feign her to be thy sister?  He answered:  I feared lest I
should die for her sake.
26:10. And Abimelech said:  Why hast thou deceived us?  Some man of the
people might have lain with thy wife, and thou hadst brought upon us a
great sin.  And he commanded all the people, saying:
26:11. He that shall touch this man's wife, shall surely be put to
26:12. And Isaac sowed in that land, and he found that same year a
hundredfold:  and the Lord blessed him.
26:13. And the man was enriched, and he went on prospering and
increasing, till he became exceeding great.
26:14. And he had possessions of sheep and of herds, and a very great
family.  Wherefore the Palestines envying him,
26:15. Stopped up at that time all the wells, that the servants of his
father, Abraham, had digged, filling them up with earth:
26:16. Insomuch that Abimelech himself said to Isaac:  Depart from us,
for thou art become much mightier than we.
26:17. So he departed, and came to the torrent of Gerara, to dwell
26:18. And he digged again other wells, which the servants of his
father, Abraham, had digged, and which, after his death, the
Philistines had of old stopped up:  and he called them by the same
names, by which his father before had called them.
26:19. And they digged in the torrent, and found living water:
Torrent. . .That is, a channel where sometimes a torrent or violent
stream had run.
26:20. But there also the herdsmen of Gerara strove against the
herdsmen of Isaac, saying:  It is our water.  Wherefore he called the
name of the well, on occasion of that which had happened, Calumny.
26:21. And they digged also another; and for that they quarrelled
likewise, and he called the name of it, Enmity.
26:22. Going forward from thence, he digged another well, for which
they contended not; therefore he called the name thereof, Latitude,
saying:  Now hath the Lord given us room, and made us to increase upon
Latitude. . .That is, wideness, or room.
26:23. And he went up from that place to Bersabee,
26:24. Where the Lord appeared to him that same night, saying:  I am the
God of Abraham thy father, do not fear, for I am with thee:  I will
bless thee, and multiply thy seed for my servant Abraham's sake.
26:25. And he built there an altar:  and called upon the name of the
Lord, and pitched his tent; and commanded his servants to dig a well.
26:26. To which place when Abimelech, and Ochozath his friend, and
Phicol chief captain of his soldiers, came from Gerara,
26:27. Isaac said to them:  Why are ye come to me, a man whom you hate,
and have thrust out from you?
26:28. And they answered:  We saw that the Lord is with thee, and
therefore we said:  Let there be an oath between us, and let us make a
26:29. That thou do us no harm, as we on our part have touched nothing
of thine, nor have done any thing to hurt thee; but with peace have
sent thee away, increased with the blessing of the Lord.
26:30. And he made them a feast, and after they had eaten and drunk:
26:31. Arising in the morning, they swore one to another:  and Isaac
sent them away peaceably to their own home.
26:32. And behold, the same day the servants of Isaac came, telling him
of a well which they had digged, and saying:  We have found water.
26:33. Whereupon he called it Abundance:  and the name of the city was
called Bersabee, even to this day.
26:34. And Esau being forty years old, married wives, Judith, the
daughter of Beeri, the Hethite, and Basemath, the daughter of Elon, of
the same place.
26:35. And they both offended the mind of Isaac and Rebecca.
Genesis Chapter 27
Jacob, by him mother's counsel, obtaineth his father's blessing instead
of Esau.  And by her is advised to fly to his uncle Laban.
27:1. Now Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, and he could not see:
and he called Esau, his elder son, and said to him:  My son?  And he
answered:  Here I am.
27:2. And his father said to him, Thou seest that I am old, and know
not the day of my death.
27:3. Take thy arms, thy quiver, and bow, and go abroad; and when thou
hast taken something by hunting,
27:4. Make me a savoury meat thereof, as thou knowest I like, and bring
it that I may eat:  and my soul may bless thee, before I die.
27:5. And when Rebecca had heard this, and he was gone into the field
to fulfil his father's commandment,
27:6. She said to her son Jacob:  I heard thy father talking with Esau,
thy brother, and saying to him:
27:7. Bring me of thy hunting, and make me meats that I may eat, and
bless thee in the sight of the Lord, before I die.
27:8. Now therefore, my son, follow my counsel:
27:9. And go thy way to the flock, bring me two kids of the best, that
I may make of them meat for thy father, such as he gladly eateth.
27:10. Which when thou hast brought in, and he hath eaten, he may bless
thee before he die.
27:11. And he answered her:  Thou knowest that Esau, my brother, is a
hairy man, and I am smooth:
27:12. If my father should feel me, and perceive it, I fear lest he
will think I would have mocked him, and I shall bring upon me a curse
instead of a blessing.
27:13. And his mother said to him:  Upon me be this curse, my son:  only
hear thou my voice, and go, fetch me the things which I have said.
27:14. He went, and brought, and gave them to his mother.  She dressed
meats, such as she knew his father liked.
27:15. And she put on him very good garments of Esau, which she had at
home with her:
27:16. And the little skins of the kids she put about his hands, and
covered the bare of his neck.
27:17. And she gave him the savoury meat, and delivered him bread that
she had baked.
27:18. Which when he had carried in, he said:  My father?  But he
answered:  I hear.  Who art thou, my son?
27:19. And Jacob said:  I am Esau, thy firstborn:  I have done as thou
didst command me:  arise, sit and eat of my venison, that thy soul may
I am Esau thy firstborn. . .St. Augustine (L. Contra mendacium, c. 10),
treating at large upon this place, excuseth Jacob from a lie, because
this whole passage was mysterious, as relating to the preference which
was afterwards to be given to the Gentiles before the carnal Jews,
which Jacob by prophetic light might understand.  So far is certain,
that the first birthright, both by divine election and by Esau's free
cession belonged to Jacob:  so that if there were any lie in the case,
it could be no more than an officious and venial one.
27:20. And Isaac said to his son:  How couldst thou find it so quickly,
my son?  He answered:  It was the will of God, that what I sought came
quickly in my way:
27:21. And Isaac said:  Come hither, that I may feel thee, my son, and
may prove whether thou be my son Esau, or no.
27:22. He came near to his father, and when he had felt him, Isaac
said:  The voice indeed is the voice of Jacob; but the hands, are the
hands of Esau.
27:23. And he knew him not, because his hairy hands made him like to
the elder.  Then blessing him,
27:24. He said:  Art thou my son Esau?  He answered:  I am.
27:25. Then he said:  Bring me the meats of thy hunting, my son, that my
soul may bless thee.  And when they were brought, and he had eaten, he
offered him wine also, which after he had drunk,
27:26. He said to him:  Come near me, and give me a kiss, my son.
27:27. He came near, and kissed him.  And immediately as he smelled the
fragrant smell of his garments, blessing him, he said:  Behold, the
smell of my son is as the smell of a plentiful field, which the Lord
hath blessed.
27:28. God give thee of the dew of heaven, and of the fatness of the
earth, abundance of corn and wine.
27:29. And let peoples serve thee, and tribes worship thee:  be thou
lord of thy brethren, and let thy mother's children bow down before
thee.  Cursed be he that curseth thee:  and let him that blesseth thee be
filled with blessings.
27:30. Isaac had scarce ended his words, when, Jacob being now gone out
abroad, Esau came,
27:31. And brought in to his father meats, made of what he had taken in
hunting, saying:  Arise, my father, and eat of thy son's venison; that
thy soul may bless me.
27:32. And Isaac said to him:  Why! who art thou?  He answered:  I am thy
firstborn son, Esau.
27:33. Isaac was struck with fear, and astonished exceedingly; and
wondering beyond what can be believed, said:  Who is he then that even
now brought me venison that he had taken, and I ate of all before thou
camest?  and I have blessed him, and he shall be blessed.
27:34. Esau having heard his father's words, roared out with a great
cry; and, being in a consternation, said:  Bless me also, my father.
27:35. And he said:  Thy brother came deceitfully and got thy blessing.
27:36. But he said again:  Rightly is his name called Jacob; for he hath
supplanted me lo this second time:  My birthright he took away before,
and now this second time he hath stolen away my blessing.  And again he
said to his father:  Hast thou not reserved me also a blessing?
Jacob. . .That is, a supplanter.
27:37. Isaac answered:  I have appointed him thy lord, and have made all
his brethren his servants:  I have established him with corn and wine,
and after this, what shall I do more for thee, my son?
27:38. And Esau said to him:  Hast thou only one blessing, father?  I
beseech thee bless me also.  And when he wept with a loud cry,
27:39. Isaac being moved, said to him:  In the fat of the earth, and in
the dew of heaven from above,
27:40. Shall thy blessing be.  Thou shalt live by the sword, and shalt
serve thy brother:  and the time shall come, when thou shalt shake off
and loose his yoke from thy neck.
27:41. Esau therefore always hated Jacob, for the blessing wherewith
his father had blessed him; and he said in his heart:  The days will
come of the mourning for my father, and I will kill my brother Jacob.
27:42. These things were told to Rebecca:  and she sent and called
Jacob, her son, and said to him:  Behold Esau, thy brother, threateneth
to kill thee.
27:43. Now therefore, my son, hear my voice, arise and flee to Laban,
my brother, to Haran:
27:44. And thou shalt dwell with him a few days, till the wrath of thy
brother be assuaged,
27:45. And his indignation cease, and he forget the things thou hast
done to him:  afterwards I will send, and bring thee from thence hither.
Why shall I be deprived of both my sons in one day?
27:46. And Rebecca said to Isaac:  I am weary of my life, because of the
daughters of Heth:  if Jacob take a wife of the stock of this land, I
choose not to live.
Genesis Chapter 28
Jacob's journey to Mesopotamia:  his vision and vow.
28:1. And Isaac called Jacob, and blessed him, and charged him, saying:
Take not a wife of the stock of Chanaan:
28:2. But go, and take a journey to Mesopotamia of Syria, to the house
of Bathuel, thy mother's father, and take thee a wife thence of the
daughters of Laban, thy uncle.
28:3. And God almighty bless thee, and make thee to increase and
multiply thee:  that thou mayst be a multitude of people.
28:4. And give the blessings of Araham to thee, and to thy seed after
thee:  that thou mayst possess the land of thy sojournment, which he
promised to thy grandfather.
28:5. And when Isaac had sent him away, he took his journey and went to
Mesopotamia of Syria, to Laban, the son of Bathuel, the Syrian, brother
to Rebecca, his mother.
28:6. And Esau seeing that his father had blessed Jacob, and had sent
him into Mesopotamia of Syria, to marry a wife thence; and that after
the blessing he had charged him, saying:  Thou shalt not take a wife of
the daughters of Chanaan:
28:7. And that Jacob obeying his parents, was gone into Syria:
28:8. Experiencing also, that his father was not well pleased with the
daughters of Chanaan:
28:9. He went to Ismael, and took to wife, besides them he had before,
Maheleth, the daughter of Ismael, Abraham's son, the sister of
28:10. But Jacob being departed from Bersabee, went on to Haran.
28:11. And when he was come to a certain place, and would rest in it
after sunset, he took of the stones that lay there, and putting under
his head, slept in the same place.
28:12. And he saw in his sleep a ladder standing upon the earth, and
the top thereof touching heaven:  the angels also of God ascending and
descending by it.
28:13. And the Lord leaning upon the ladder saying to him:  I am the
Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac:  The land, wherein
thou sleepest, I will give to thee and to thy seed.
28:14. And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth:  thou shalt
spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to
the south:  and IN THEE and thy seed, all the tribes of the earth SHALL
28:15. And I will be thy keeper whithersoever thou goest, and will
bring thee back into this land:  neither will I leave thee, till I shall
have accomplished all that I have said.
28:16. And when Jacob awaked out of sleep, he said:  Indeed the Lord is
in this place, and I knew it not.
28:17. And trembling, he said:  How terrible is this place?  this is no
other but the house of God, and the gate of heaven.
28:18. And Jacob arising in the morning, took the stone which he had
laid under his head, and set it up for a title, pouring oil upon the
28:19. And he called the name of the city Bethel, which before was
called Luza.
Bethel. . .This name signifies the house of God.
28:20. And he made a vow, saying:  If God shall be with me, and shall
keep me in the way, by which I walk, and shall give me bread to eat,
and raiment to put on,
28:21. And I shall return prosperously to my father's house:  the Lord
shall be my God:
28:22. And this stone, which I have set up for a title, shall be called
the house of God:  and of all things that thou shalt give to me, I will
offer tithes to thee.
Genesis Chapter 29
Jacob serveth Laban seven years for Rachel:  but is deceived with Lia:
he afterwards marrieth Rachel.  Lia bears him four sons.
29:1. Then Jacob went on in his journey, and came into the east
29:2. And he saw a well in the field, and three flocks of sheep lying
by it:  for the beasts were watered out of it, and the mouth thereof was
closed with a great stone.
29:3. And the custom was, when all the sheep were gathered together, to
roll away the stone, and after the sheep were watered, to put it on the
mouth of the well again.
29:4. And he said to the shepherds:  Brethren, whence are you?  They
answered:  Of Haran.
29:5. And he asked them, saying:  Know you Laban, the son of Nachor?
They said:  We know him.
29:6. He said:  Is he in health?  He is in health, say they:  and behold,
Rachel, his daughter, cometh with his flock.
29:7. And Jacob said:  There is yet much day remaining, neither is it
time to bring the flocks into the folds again:  first give the sheep
drink, and so lead them back to feed.
29:8. They answered:  We cannot, till all the cattle be gathered
together, and we remove the stone from the well's mouth, that we may
water the flocks.
29:9. They were yet speaking, and behold Rachel came with her father's
sheep; for she fed the flock.
29:10. And when Jacob saw her, and knew her to be his cousin german,
and that they were the sheep of Laban, his uncle:  he removed the stone
wherewith the well was closed.
29:11. And having watered the flock, he kissed her:  and lifting up his
29:12. And he told her that he was her father's brother, and the son of
Rebecca:  but she went in haste and told her father.
29:13. Who, when he heard that Jacob his sister's son was come, ran
forth to meet him:  and embracing him, and heartily kissing him, brought
him into his house.  And when he had heard the causes of his journey,
29:14. He answered:  Thou art my bone and my flesh.  And after the days
of one month were expired,
29:15. He said to him:  Because thou art my brother, shalt thou serve me
without wages?  Tell me what wages thou wilt have.
29:16. Now he had two daughters, the name of the elder was Lia; and the
younger was called Rachel.
29:17. But Lia was blear-eyed:  Rachel was well favoured, and of a
beautiful countenance.
29:18. And Jacob being in love with her, said:  I will serve thee seven
years for Rachel, thy younger daughter.
29:19. Laban answered:  It is better that I give her to thee than to
another man; stay with me.
29:20. So Jacob served seven years for Rachel:  and they seemed but a
few days, because of the greatness of his love.
29:21. And he said to Laban:  Give me my wife; for now the time is
fulfilled, that I may go in unto her.
29:22. And he, having invited a great number of his friends to the
feast, made the marriage.
29:23. And at night he brought in Lia, his daughter, to him,
29:24. Giving his daughter a handmaid, named Zelpha.  Now when Jacob had
gone in to her according to custom, when morning was come he saw it was
29:25. And he said to his father-in-law:  What is it that thou didst
mean to do?  did not I serve thee for Rachel?  why hast thou deceived me?
29:26. Laban answered:  It is not the custom in this place, to give the
younger in marriage first.
29:27. Make up the week of days of this match:  and I will give thee her
also, for the service that thou shalt render me other seven years.
29:28. He yielded to his pleasure:  and after the week was past, he
married Rachel:
29:29. To whom her father gave Bala, for her servant.
29:30. And having at length obtained the marriage he wished for, he
preferred the love of the latter before the former, and served with him
other seven years.
29:31. And the Lord seeing that he despised Lia, opened her womb, but
her sister remained barren.
29:32. And she conceived and bore a son, and called his name Ruben,
saying:  The Lord saw my affliction:  now my husband will love me.
29:33. And again she conceived and bore a son, and said:  Because the
Lord heard that I was despised, he hath given this also to me:  and she
called his name Simeon.
29:34. And she conceived the third time, and bore another son, and
said:  Now also my husband will be joined to me, because I have borne
him three sons:  and therefore she called his name Levi.
29:35. The fourth time she conceived and bore a son, and said:  Now will
I praise the Lord:  and for this she called him Juda.  And she left
Genesis Chapter 30
Rachel, being barren, delivereth her handmaid to Jacob; she beareth two
sons.  Lia ceasing to bear, giveth also her handmaid, and she beareth
two more.  Then Lia beareth other two sons and one daughter.  Rachel
beareth Joseph.  Jacob, desirous to return home, is hired to stay for a
certain part of the flock's increase, whereby he becometh exceeding
30:1. And Rachel seeing herself without children, envied her sister,
and said to her husband:  Give me children, otherwise I shall die.
30:2. And Jacob being angry with her, answered:  Am I as God, who hath
deprived thee of the fruit of thy womb?
30:3. But she said:  I have here my servant Bala:  go in unto her, that
she may bear upon my knees, and I may have children by her.
30:4. And she gave him Bala in marriage:  who,
30:5. When her husband had gone in unto her, conceived and bore a son.
30:6. And Rachel said:  The Lord hath judged for me, and hath heard my
voice, giving me a son; and therefore she called his name Dan.
30:7. And again Bala conceived, and bore another,
30:8. For whom Rachel said:  God hath compared me with my sister, and I
have prevailed:  and she called him Nephthali.
30:9. Lia perceiving that she had left of bearing, gave Zelpha, her
handmaid, to her husband.
30:10. And when she had conceived, and brought forth a son,
30:11. She said:  Happily.  And therefore called his name Gad.
30:12. Zelpha also bore another.
30:13. And Lia said:  This is for my happiness:  for women will call me
blessed.  Therefore she called him Aser.
30:14. And Ruben going out in the time of the wheat harvest into the
field, found mandrakes:  which he brought to his mother Lia.  And Rachel
said:  Give me part of thy son's mandrakes.
30:15. She answered:  Dost thou think it a small matter, that thou hast
taken my husband from me, unless thou take also my son's mandrakes?
Rachel said:  He shall sleep with thee this night, for thy son's
30:16. And when Jacob returned at even from the field, Lia went out to
meet him, and said:  Thou shalt come in unto me, because I have hired
thee for my son's mandrakes.  And he slept with her that night.
30:17. And God heard her prayers; and she conceived:  and bore a fifth
30:18. And said:  God hath given me a reward, because I gave my handmaid
to my husband.  And she called his name Issachar.
30:19. And Lia conceived again, and bore the sixth son,
30:20. And said:  God hath endowed me with a good dowry; this turn also
my husband will be with me, because I have borne him six sons:  and
therefore she called his name Zabulon.
30:21. After whom she bore a daughter, named Dina.
30:22. The Lord also remembering Rachel, heard her, and opened her
30:23. And she conceived, and bore a son, saying:  God hath taken away
my reproach.
30:24. And she called his name Joseph:  saying:  The Lord give me also
another son.
30:25. And when Joseph was born, Jacob said to his father-in-law:  Send
me away, that I may return into my country, and to my land.
30:26. Give me my wives, and my children, for whom I have served thee,
that I may depart:  thou knowest the service that I have rendered thee.
30:27. Laban said to him:  Let me find favour in thy sight:  I have
learned, by experience, that God hath blessed me for thy sake.
30:28. Appoint thy wages which I shall give thee.
30:29. But he answered:  Thou knowest how I have served thee, and how
great thy possession hath been in my hands.
30:30. Thou hadst but little before I came to thee, and now thou art
become rich:  and the Lord hath blessed thee at my coming.  It is
reasonable, therefore, that I should now provide also for my own house.
30:31. And Laban said:  What shall I give thee?  But he said:  I require
nothing; but if thou wilt do what I demand, I will feed and keep thy
sheep again.
30:32. Go round through all thy flocks, and separate all the sheep of
divers colours, and speckled; and all that is brown and spotted, and of
divers colours, as well among the sheep as among the goats, shall be my
30:33. And my justice shall answer for me tomorrow before thee, when
the time of the bargain shall come; and all that is not of divers
colours, and spotted, and brown, as well among the sheep as among the
goats, shall accuse me of theft.
30:34. And Laban said:  I like well what thou demandest.
30:35. And he separated the same day the she-goats, and the sheep, and
the he-goats, and the rams of divers colours, and spotted; and all the
flock of one colour, that is, of white and black fleece, he delivered
into the hands of his sons.
30:36. And he set the space of three days journey betwixt himself and
his son-in-law, who fed the rest of his flock.
30:37. And Jacob took green rods of poplar, and of almond, and of
plane-trees, and pilled them in part:  so when the bark was taken off,
in the parts that were pilled, there appeared whiteness:  but the parts
that were whole, remained green:  and by this means the colour was
30:38. And he put them in the troughs, where the water was poured out;
that when the flocks should come to drink, they might have the rods
before their eyes, and in the sight of them might conceive.
30:39. And it came to pass, that in the very heat of coition, the sheep
beheld the rods, and brought forth spotted, and of divers colours, and
30:40. And Jacob separated the flock, and put the rods in the troughs
before the eyes of the rams; and all the white and the black were
Laban's, and the rest were Jacob's, when the flocks were separated one
from the other.
30:41. So when the ewes went first to ram, Jacob put the rods in the
troughs of water before the eyes of the rams, and of the ewes, that
they might conceive while they were looking upon them.
30:42. But when the later coming was, and the last conceiving, he did
not put them.  And those that were lateward, became Laban's; and they of
the first time, Jacob's.
30:43. And the man was enriched exceedingly, and he had many flocks,
maid-servants and men-servants, camels and asses.
Genesis Chapter 31
Jacob's departure:  he is pursued and overtaken by Laban.  They make a
31:1. But after that he had heard the words of the sons of Laban,
saying:  Jacob hath taken away all that was our father's, and being
enriched by his substance is become great.
31:2. And perceiving also, that Laban's countenance was not towards him
as yesterday and the other day.
31:3. Especially the Lord saying to him:  Return into the land of thy
fathers and to thy kindred, and I will be with thee.
31:4. He sent, and called Rachel and Lia into the field, where he fed
31:5. And said to them:  I see your father's countenance is not towards
me as yesterday and the other day:  but the God of my father hath been
31:6. And you know that I have served your father to the uttermost of
31:7. Yea your father hath also overreached me, and hath changed my
wages ten times:  and yet God hath not suffered him to hurt me.
31:8. If at any time, he said:  The speckled shall be thy wages:  all the
sheep brought forth speckled:  but when he said on the contrary:  Thou
shalt take all the white one for thy wages:  all the flocks brought
forth white ones.
31:9. And God hath taken your father's substance, and given it to me.
31:10. For after the time came of the ewes conceiving, I lifted up my
eyes, and saw in my sleep, that the males which leaped upon the females
were of divers colours, and spotted, and speckled.
31:11. And the angel of God said to me in my sleep:  Jacob.  And I
answered:  Here I am.
31:12. And he said:  Lift up thy eyes, and see that all the males
leaping upon the females, are of divers colours, spotted and speckled.
For I have seen all that Laban hath done to thee.
31:13. I am the God of Bethel, where thou didst anoint the stone, and
make a vow to me.  Now therefore arise, and go out of this land, and
return into thy native country.
31:14. And Rachel and Lia answered:  Have we any thing left among the
goods and inheritance of our father's house?
31:15. Hath he not counted us as strangers, and sold us, and eaten up
the price of us?
31:16. But God hath taken our father's riches, and delivered them to
us, and to our children:  wherefore, do all that God hath commanded
31:17. Then Jacob rose up, and having set his children and wives upon
camels, went his way.
31:18. And he took all his substance, and flocks, and whatsoever he had
gotten in Mesopotamia, and went forward to Isaac, his father, to the
land of Chanaan.
31:19. At that time Laban was gone to shear his sheep, and Rachel stole
away her father's idols.
Her father's idols. . .By this it appears that Laban was an idolater;
and some of the fathers are of opinion that Rachel stole away these
idols to withdraw him from idolatry, removing the occasion of his sin.
31:20. And Jacob would not confess to his father-in-law that he was
flying away.
31:21. And when he was gone, together with all that belonged to him,
and having passed the river, was going on towards mount Galaad,
31:22. It was told Laban on the third day, that Jacob fled.
31:23. And he took his brethren with him, and pursued after him seven
days; and overtook him in the mount of Galaad.
31:24. And he saw in a dream God, saying to him:  Take heed thou speak
not any thing harshly against Jacob.
31:25. Now Jacob had pitched his tent in the mountain:  and when he,
with his brethren, had overtaken him, he pitched his tent in the same
mount of Galaad.
31:26. And he said to Jacob:  Why hast thou done thus, to carry away,
without my knowledge, my daughters as captives taken with the sword?
31:27. Why wouldst thou run away privately, and not acquaint me, that I
might have brought thee on the way with joy, and with songs, and with
timbrels, and with harps?
31:28. Thou hast not suffered me to kiss my sons and daughters; thou
hast done foolishly; and now indeed,
31:29. It is in my power to return thee evil; but the God of your
father said to me yesterday:  Take heed thou speak not any thing harshly
against Jacob.
31:30. Suppose thou didst desire to go to thy friends, and hadst a
longing after thy father's house:  why hast thou stolen away my gods?
31:31. Jacob answered:  That I departed unknown to thee, it was for fear
lest thou wouldst take away thy daughters by force.
31:32. But, whereas, thou chargest me with theft:  with whomsoever thou
shalt find thy gods, let him be slain before our brethren.  Search, and
if thou find any of thy things with me, take them away.  Now when he
said this, he knew not that Rachel had stolen the idols.
31:33. So Laban went into the tent of Jacob, and of Lia, and of both
the handmaids, and found them not.  And when he was entered into
Rachel's tent,
31:34. She, in haste, hid the idols under the camel's furniture, and
sat upon them:  and when he had searched all the tent, and found
31:35. She said:  Let not my lord be angry that I cannot rise up before
thee, because it has now happened to me according to the custom of
women.  So his careful search was in vain.
31:36. And Jacob being angry, said in a chiding manner:  For what fault
of mine, and for what offence on my part hast thou so hotly pursued me,
31:37. And searched all my household stuff?  What hast thou found of all
the substance of thy house?  lay it here before my brethren, and thy
brethren, and let them judge between me and thee.
31:38. Have I, therefore, been with thee twenty years?  thy ewes and
goats were not barren, the rams of thy flocks I did not eat:
31:39. Neither did I shew thee that which the beast had torn; I made
good all the damage:  whatsoever was lost by theft, thou didst exact it
31:40. Day and night was I parched with heat, and with frost, and sleep
departed from my eyes.
31:41. And in this manner have I served thee in thy house twenty years,
fourteen for thy daughters, and six for thy flocks:  thou hast changed
also my wages ten times.
31:42. Unless the God of my father, Abraham, and the fear of Isaac, had
stood by me, peradventure now thou hadst sent me away naked:  God beheld
my affliction and the labour of my hands, and rebuked thee yesterday.
31:43. Laban answered him:  The daughters are mine, and the children,
and thy flocks, and all things that thou seest are mine:  what can I do
to my children, and grandchildren?
31:44. Come, therefore, let us enter into a league; that it may be for
a testimony between me and thee.
31:45. And Jacob took a stone, and set it up for a title.
31:46. And he said to his brethren:  Bring hither stones.  And they,
gathering stones together, made a heap, and they ate upon it.
31:47. And Laban called it, The witness heap; and Jacob, The hillock of
testimony:  each of them according to the propriety of his language.
31:48. And Laban said:  This heap shall be a witness between me and thee
this day, and therefore the name thereof was called Galaad, that is,
The witness heap.
31:49. The Lord behold and judge between us, when we shall be gone one
from the other.
31:50. If thou afflict my daughters, and if thou bring in other wives
over them:  none is witness of our speech but God, who is present and
31:51. And he said again to Jacob:  Behold this heap, and the stone
which I have set up between me and thee,
31:52. Shall be a witness:  this heap, I say, and the stone, be they for
a testimony, if either I shall pass beyond it going towards thee, or
thou shalt pass beyond it thinking harm to me.
31:53. The God of Abraham, and the God of Nachor, the God of their
father, judge between us.  And Jacob swore by the fear of his father
31:54. And after he had offered sacrifices in the mountain, he called
his brethren to eat bread.  And when they had eaten, they lodged there:
31:55. But Laban arose in the night, and kissed his sons and daughters,
and blessed them:  and returned to his place.
Genesis Chapter 32
Jacob's vision of angels; his message and presents to Esau; his
wrestling with an angel.
32:1. Jacob also went on the journey he had begun:  and the angels of
God met him.
32:2. And when he saw them, he said:  These are the camps of God, and he
called the name of that place Mahanaim, that is, Camps.
32:3. And he sent messengers before him to Esau, his brother, to the
land of Seir, to the country of Edom:
32:4. And he commanded them, saying:  Thus shall ye speak to my lord
Esau:  Thus saith thy brother Jacob:  I have sojourned with Laban, and
have been with him until this day:
32:5. I have oxen, and asses, and sheep, and menservants, and
womenservants:  and now I send a message to my lord, that I may find
favour in thy sight.
32:6. And the messengers returned to Jacob, saying:  We came to Esau,
thy brother, and behold he cometh with speed to meet thee with four
hundred men.
32:7. Then Jacob was greatly afraid; and in his fear divided the people
that was with him, and the flocks, and the sheep, and the oxen, and the
camels, into two companies,
32:8. Saying:  If Esau come to one company, and destroy it, the other
company that is left, shall escape.
32:9. And Jacob said:  O God of my father Abraham, and God of my father
Isaac:  O Lord who saidst to me, Return to thy land, and to the place of
thy birth, and I will do well for thee.
32:10. I am not worthy of the least of all thy mercies, and of thy
truth which thou hast fulfilled to thy servant.  With my staff I passed
over this Jordan; and now I return with two companies.
32:11. Deliver me from the hand of my brother Esau, for I am greatly
afraid of him; lest perhaps he come, and kill the mother with the
32:12. Thou didst say, that thou wouldst do well by me, and multiply my
seed like the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.
32:13. And when he had slept there that night, he set apart, of the
things which he had, presents for his brother Esau,
32:14. Two hundred she-goats, twenty he-goats, two hundred ewes, and
twenty rams,
32:15. Thirty milch camels with their colts, forty kine, and twenty
bulls, twenty she-asses, and ten of their foals.
32:16. And he sent them by the hands of his servants, every drove by
itself, and he said to his servants:  Go before me, and let there be a
space between drove and drove.
32:17. And he commanded the first, saying:  If thou meet my brother
Esau, and he ask thee:  Whose art thou?  or whither goest thou?  or whose
are these before thee?
32:18. Thou shalt answer:  Thy servant Jacob's:  he hath sent them as a
present to my lord Esau; and he cometh after us.
32:19. In like manner he commanded the second, and the third, and all
that followed the droves, saying:  Speak ye the same words to Esau, when
ye find him.
32:20. And ye shall add:  Thy servant Jacob himself also followeth after
us; for he said:  I will appease him with the presents that go before,
and afterwards I will see him, perhaps he will be gracious to me.
32:21. So the presents went before him, but himself lodged that night
in the camp.
32:22. And rising early, he took his two wives and his two handmaids,
with his eleven sons, and passed over the ford of Jaboc.
32:23. And when all things were brought over that belonged to him,
32:24. He remained alone; and behold, a man wrestled with him till
A man, etc. . .This was an angel in human shape, as we learn from Osee
12.4. He is called God, ver. 28 and 30, because he represented the
person of the Son of God.  This wrestling, in which Jacob, assisted by
God, was a match for an angel, was so ordered (ver. 28,) that he might
learn by this experiment of the divine assistance, that neither Esau,
nor any other man, should have power to hurt him.--It was also
spiritual, as appeareth by his earnest prayer, urging and at last
obtaining the angel's blessing.
32:25. And when he saw that he could not overcome him, he touched the
sinew of his thigh, and forthwith it shrank.
32:26. And he said to him:  Let me go, for it is break of day.  He
answered:  I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.
32:27. And he said:  What is thy name?  He answered:  Jacob.
32:28. But he said:  Thy name shall not be called Jacob, but Israel; for
if thou hast been strong against God, how much more shalt thou prevail
against men?
32:29. Jacob asked him:  Tell me by what name art thou called?  He
answered:  Why dost thou ask my name?  And he blessed him in the same
32:30. And Jacob called the name of the place Phanuel, saying:  I have
seen God face to face, and my soul has been saved.
Phanuel. . .This word signifies the face of God, or the sight, or seeing
32:31. And immediately the sun rose upon him, after he was past
Phanuel; but he halted on his foot.
32:32. Therefore the children of Israel, unto this day, eat not the
sinew, that shrank in Jacob's thigh:  because he touched the sinew of
his thigh and it shrank.
Genesis Chapter 33
Jacob and Esau meet:  Jacob goeth to Salem, where he raiseth an altar.
33:1. And Jacob lifting up his eyes, saw Esau coming, and with him four
hundred men:  and he divided the children of Lia and of Rachel, and of
the two handmaids.
33:2. And he put both the handmaids and their children foremost:  and
Lia and her children in the second place:  and Rachel and Joseph last.
33:3. And he went forward and bowed down with his face to the ground
seven times, until his brother came near.
33:4. Then Esau ran to meet his brother, and embraced him:  and clasping
him fast about the neck, and kissing him, wept.
33:5. And lifting up his eyes, he saw the women and their children, and
said:  What mean these?  And do they belong to thee?  He answered:  They
are the children which God hath given to me, thy servant.
33:6. Then the handmaids and their children came near and bowed
33:7. Lia also, with her children, came near and bowed down in like
manner; and last of all, Joseph and Rachel bowed down.
33:8. And Esau said:  What are the droves that I met?  He answered:  That
I might find favour before my lord.
33:9. But he said:  I have plenty, my brother, keep what is thine for
33:10. And Jacob said:  Do not so I beseech thee, but if I have found
favour in thy eyes, receive a little present at my hands:  for I have
seen thy face, as if I should have seen the countenance of God:  be
gracious to me,
33:11. And take the blessing which I have brought thee, and which God
hath given me, who giveth all things.  He took it with much ado at his
brother's earnest pressing him,
33:12. And said:  Let us go on together, and I will accompany thee in
thy journey.
33:13. And Jacob said:  My lord, thou knowest that I have with me tender
children, and sheep, and kine with young:  which if I should cause to be
overdriven, in one day all the flocks will die.
33:14. May it please my lord to go before his servant:  and I will
follow softly after him, as I shall see my children to be able, until I
come to my lord in Seir.
33:15. Esau answered:  I beseech thee, that some of the people, at
least, who are with me, may stay to accompany thee in the way.  And he
said:  There is no necessity:  I want nothing else but only to find
favour, my lord, in thy sight.
33:16. So Esau returned that day, the way that he came, to Seir.
33:17. And Jacob came to Socoth:  where having built a house, and
pitched tents, he called the name of the place Socoth, that is, Tents.
33:18. And he passed over to Salem, a city of the Sichemites, which is
in the land of Chanaan, after he returned from Mesopotamia of Syria:
and he dwelt by the town.
33:19. And he bought that part of the field, in which he pitched his
tents, of the children of Hemor, the father of Sichem, for a hundred
33:20. And raising an altar there, he invoked upon it the most mighty
God of Israel.
Genesis Chapter 34
Dina is ravished, for which the Sichemites are destroyed.
34:1. And Dina the daughter of Lia went out to see the women of that
34:2. And when Sichem the son of Hemor the Hevite, the prince of that
land, saw her, he was in love with her:  and took her away, and lay with
her, ravishing the virgin.
34:3. And his soul was fast knit unto her; and whereas she was sad, he
comforted her with sweet words.
34:4. And going to Hemor his father, he said:  Get me this damsel to
34:5. But when Jacob had heard this, his sons being absent, and
employed in feeding the cattle, he held his peace till they came back.
34:6. And when Hemor the father of Sichem was come out to speak to
34:7. Behold his sons came from the field:  and hearing what had passed,
they were exceeding angry, because he had done a foul thing in Israel,
and committed an unlawful act, in ravishing Jacob's daughter.
34:8. And Hemor spoke to them:  The soul of my son Sichem has a longing
for your daughter:  give her him to wife:
34:9. And let us contract marriages one with another:  give us your
daughters, and take you our daughters.
34:10. And dwell with us:  the land is at your command, till, trade, and
34:11. Sichem also said to her father and to her brethren:  Let me find
favour in your sight, and whatsoever you shall appoint I will give:
34:12. Raise the dowry, and ask gifts, and I will gladly give what you
shall demand:  only give me this damsel to wife.
34:13. The sons of Jacob answered Sichem and his father deceitfully,
being enraged at the deflowering of their sister:
Deceitfully. . .The sons of Jacob, on this occasion, were guilty of a
grievous sin, as well by falsely pretending religion, as by excess of
revenge:  though otherwise their zeal against so foul a crime was
commendable.
34:14. We cannot do what you demand, nor give our sister to one that is
uncircumcised; which with us is unlawful and abominable.
34:15. But in this we may be allied with you, if you will be like us,
and all the male sex among you be circumcised:
34:16. Then will we mutually give and take your daughters, and ours;
and we will dwell with you, and will be one people:
34:17. But if you will not be circumcised, we will take our daughter
34:18. Their offer pleased Hemor, and Sichem, his son:
34:19. And the young man made no delay, but forthwith fulfilled what
was required:  for he loved the damsel exceedingly, and he was the
greatest man in all his father's house.
34:20. And going into the gate of the city, they spoke to the people:
34:21. These men are peaceable, and are willing to dwell with us:  let
them trade in the land, and till it, which being large and wide wanteth
men to till it:  we shall take their daughters for wives, and we will
give them ours.
34:22. One thing there is for which so great a good is deferred:  We
must circumcise every male among us, following the manner of the
34:23. And their substance, and cattle, and all that they possess,
shall be ours; only in this let us condescend, and by dwelling
together, we shall make one people.
34:24. And they all agreed, and circumcised all the males.
34:25. And behold the third day, when the pain of the wound was
greatest:  two of the sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, the brothers of
Dina, taking their swords, entered boldly into the city and slew all
34:26. And they killed also Hemor and Sichem, and took away their
sister Dina out of Sichem's house.
34:27. And when they were gone out, the other sons of Jacob came upon
the slain; and plundered the city in revenge of the rape.
34:28. And they took their sheep, and their herds, and their asses,
wasting all they had in their houses and in their fields.
34:29. And their children and wives they took captive.
34:30. And when they had boldly perpetrated these things, Jacob said to
Simeon and Levi:  You have troubled me, and made me hateful to the
Chanaanites and Pherezites, the inhabitants of this land.  We are few:
they will gather themselves together and kill me; and both I, and my
house shall be destroyed.
34:31. They answered:  Should they abuse our sister as a strumpet?
Genesis Chapter 35
Jacob purgeth his family from idols:  goeth by God's commandment to
Bethel, and there buildeth an altar.  God appearing again to Jacob
blesseth him, and changeth his name into Israel.  Rachel dieth in
childbirth.  Isaac also dieth.
35:1. In the mean time God said to Jacob:  Arise and go up to Bethel,
and dwell there, and make there an altar to God, who appeared to thee
when thou didst flee from Esau, thy brother.
35:2. And Jacob having called together all his household, said:  Cast
away the strange gods that are among you, and be cleansed, and change
your garments.
35:3. Arise, and let us go up to Bethel, that we may make there an
altar to God; who heard me in the day of my affliction, and accompained
me in my journey.
35:4. So they gave him all the strange gods they had, and the earrings
which were in their ears:  and he buried them under the turpentine tree,
that is behind the city of Sichem.
35:5. And when they were departed, the terror of God fell upon all the
cities round about, and they durst not pursue after them as they went
35:6. And Jacob came to Luza, which is in the land of Chanaan, surnamed
Bethel:  he and all the people that were with him.
35:7. And he built there an altar, and called the name of that place,
The house of God:  for there God appeared to him when he fled from his
35:8. At the same time Debora, the nurse of Rebecca, died, and was
buried at the foot of Bethel, under an oak, and the name of that place
was called, The oak of weeping.
35:9. And God appeared again to Jacob, after he returned from
Mesopotamia of Syria, and he blessed him,
35:10. Saying:  Thou shalt not be called any more Jacob, but Israel
shall be thy name.  And he called him Israel.
Israel. . .This name signifieth one that prevaileth with God.
35:11. And said to him:  I am God almighty, increase thou and be
multiplied.  Nations and peoples of nations shall be from thee, and
kings shall come out of thy loins.
35:12. And the land which I gave to Abraham and Isaac, I will give to
thee, and to thy seed after thee.
35:13. And he departed from him.
35:14. But he set up a monument of stone, in the place where God had
spoken to him:  pouring drink-offerings upon it, and pouring oil
35:15. And calling the name of that place Bethel.
35:16. And going forth from thence, he came in the spring time to the
land which leadeth to Ephrata:  wherein when Rachel was in travail,
35:17. By reason of her hard labour, she began to be in danger, and the
midwife said to her:  Fear not, for thou shalt have this son also.
35:18. And when her soul was departing for pain, and death was now at
hand, she called the name of her son Benoni, that is, the son of my
pain:  but his father called him Benjamin, that is, the son of the right
35:19. So Rachel died, and was buried in the highway that leadeth to
Ephrata, this is Bethlehem.
35:20. And Jacob erected a pillar over her sepulchre:  this is the
pillar of Rachel's monument, to this day.
35:21. Departing thence, he pitched his tent beyond the Flock tower.
35:22. And when he dwelt in that country, Ruben went, and slept with
Bala the concubine of his father:  which he was not ignorant of.  Now the
sons of Jacob were twelve.
The concubine. . .She was his lawful wife; but, according to the style
of the Hebrews, is called concubine, because of her servile extraction.
35:23. The sons of Lia:  Ruben the first born, and Simeon, and Levi, and
Juda, and Issachar, and Zabulon.
35:24. The sons of Rachel:  Joseph and Benjamin.
35:25. The sons of Bala, Rachel's handmaid:  Dan and Nephthali.
35:26. The sons of Zelpha, Lia's handmaid:  Gad and Aser:  these are the
sons of Jacob, that were born to him in Mesopotamia of Syria.
35:27. And he came to Isaac his father in Mambre, the city of Arbee,
this is Hebron:  wherein Abraham and Isaac sojourned.
35:28. And the days of Isaac were a hundred and eighty years.
35:29. And being spent with age he died, and was gathered to his
people, being old and full of days:  and his sons Esau and Jacob buried
Genesis Chapter 36
Esau with his wives and children parteth from Jacob.  An account of his
descendants, and of the first kings of Edom.
36:1. And these are the generations of Esau, the same is Edom.
36:2. Esau took wives of the daughters of Chanaan:  Ada the daughter of
Elon the Hethite, and Oolibama the daughter of Ana, the daughter of
Sebeon the Hevite:
Ada. . .These wives of Esau are called by other names, Gen. 26.  But it
was very common amongst the ancients for the same persons to have two
names, as Esau himself was also called Edom.
36:3. And Basemath, the daughter of Ismael, sister of Nabajoth.
36:4. And Ada bore Eliphaz:  Basemath bore Rahuel.
36:5. Oolibama bore Jehus, and Ihelon, and Core.  These are the sons of
Esau, that were born to him in the land of Chanaan.
36:6. And Esau took his wives, and his sons and daughters, and every
soul of his house, and his substance, and cattle, and all that he was
able to acquire in the land of Chanaan:  and went into another country,
and departed from his brother Jacob.
36:7. For they were exceeding rich, and could not dwell together:
neither was the land in which they sojourned able to bear them, for the
multitude of their flocks.
36:8. And Esau dwelt in mount Seir:  he is Edom.
36:9. And these are the generations of Esau, the father of Edom, in
36:10. And these the names of his sons:  Eliphaz the son of Ada, the
wife of Esau:  and Rahuel, the son of Basemath, his wife.
36:11. And Eliphaz had sons:  Theman, Omar, Sepho, and Gatham and Cenez.
36:12. And Thamna was the concubine of Eliphaz, the son of Esau:  and
she bore him Amalech.  These are the sons of Ada, the wife of Esau.
36:13. And the sons of Rahuel were Nahath and Zara, Samma and Meza.
These were the sons of Basemath, the wife of Esau.
36:14. And these were the sons of Oolibama, the daughter of Ana, the
daughter of Sebeon, the wife of Esau, whom she bore to him, Jehus, and
Ihelon, and Core.
36:15. These were dukes of the sons of Esau:  the sons of Eliphaz, the
firstborn of Esau:  duke Theman, duke Omar, duke Sepho, duke Cenez,
36:16. Duke Core, duke Gatham, duke Amalech:  these are the sons of
Eliphaz, in the land of Edom, and these the sons of Ada.
36:17. And these were the sons of Rahuel, the son of Esau:  duke Nahath,
duke Zara, duke Samma, duke Meza.  And these are the dukes of Rahuel, in
the land of Edom:  these the sons of Basemath, the wife of Esau.
36:18. And these the sons of Oolibama, the wife of Esau:  duke Jehus,
duke Ihelon, duke Core.  These are the dukes of Oolibama, the daughter
of Ana, and wife of Esau.
36:19. These are the sons of Esau, and these the dukes of them:  the
same is Edom.
36:20. These are the sons of Seir, the Horrite, the inhabitants of the
land:  Lotan, and Sobal, and Sebeon, and Ana,
36:21. And Dison, and Eser, and Disan.  These are dukes of the Horrites,
the sons of Seir, in the land of Edom.
36:22. And Lotan had sons:  Hori and Heman.  And the sister of Lotan was
36:23. And these the sons of Sobal:  Alvan, and Manahat, and Ebal, and
Sepho, and Onam.
36:24. And these the sons of Sebeon:  Aia and Ana.  This is Ana that
found the hot waters in the wilderness, when he fed the asses of
Sebeon, his father:
36:25. And he had a son Dison, and a daughter Oolibama.
36:26. And these were the sons of Dison:  Hamdan, and Eseban, and
Jethram, and Charan.
36:27. These also were the sons of Eser:  Balaan, and Zavan, and Acan.
36:28. And Dison had sons:  Hus and Aram.
36:29. These were dukes of the Horrites:  duke Lotan, duke Sobal, duke
Sebeon, duke Ana,
36:30. Duke Dison, duke Eser, duke Disan:  these were dukes of the
Horrites that ruled in the land of Seir.
36:31. And the kings that ruled in the land of Edom, before the
children of Israel had a king, were these:
36:32. Bela the son of Beor, and the name of his city Denaba.
36:33. And Bela died, and Jobab, the son of Zara, of Bosra, reigned in
36:34. And when Jobab was dead, Husam, of the land of the Themanites,
reigned in his stead.
36:35. And after his death, Adad, the son of Badad, reigned in his
stead, who defeated the Madianites in the country of Boab; and the name
of his city was Avith.
36:36. And when Adad was dead, there reigned in his stead, Semla, of
36:37. And he being dead, Saul, of the river Rohoboth, reigned in his
36:38. And when he also was dead, Balanan, the son of Achobor,
succeeded to the kingdom.
36:39. This man also being dead, Adar reigned in his place; and the
name of his city was Phau:  and his wife was called Meetabel, the
daughter of Matred, daughter of Mezaab.
36:40. And these are the names of the dukes of Esau in their kindreds,
and places, and callings:  duke Thamna, duke Alva, duke Jetheth,
36:41. Duke Oolibama, duke Ela, duke Phinon,
36:42. Duke Cenez, duke Theman, duke Mabsar,
36:43. Duke Magdiel, duke Hiram:  these are the dukes of Edom dwelling
in the land of their government; the same is Esau, the father of the
Genesis Chapter 37
Joseph's dreams:  he is sold by his brethren, and carried into Egypt.
37:1. And Jacob dwelt in the land of Chanaan, wherein his father
37:2. And these are his generations:  Joseph, when he was sixteen years
old, was feeding the flock with his brethren, being but a boy:  and he
was with the sons of Bala and of Zelpha his father's wives:  and he
accused his brethren to his father of a most wicked crime.
37:3. Now Israel loved Joseph above all his sons, because he had him in
his old age:  and he made him a coat of divers colours.
37:4. And his brethren seeing that he was loved by his father, more
than all his sons, hated hem, and could not speak peaceably to him.
37:5. Now it fell out also that he told his brethren a dream, that he
had dreamed:  which occasioned them to hate him the more.
A dream. . .These dreams of Joseph were prophetical, and sent from God;
as were also those which he interpreted, Gen. 40. and 41.; otherwise
generally speaking, the observing of dreams is condemned in the
Scripture, as superstitious and sinful.  See Deut. 18.10; Eccli. 34.2,3.
37:6. And he said to them:  Hear my dream which I dreamed.
37:7. I thought we were binding sheaves in the field:  and my sheaf
arose as it were, and stood, and your sheaves standing about bowed down
before my sheaf.
37:8. His brethren answered:  Shalt thou be our king?  or shall we be
subject to thy dominion?  Therefore this matter of his dreams and words
ministered nourishment to their envy and hatred.
37:9. He dreamed also another dream, which he told his brethren,
saying:  I saw in a dream, as it were the sun, and the moon, and eleven
stars worshipping me.
37:10. And when he had told this to his father, and brethren, his
father rebuked him and said:  What meaneth this dream that thou hast
dreamed?  shall I and thy mother, and thy brethren worship thee upon the
Worship. . .This word is not used here to signify divine worship, but an
inferior veneration, expressed by the bowing of the body, and that,
according to the manner of the eastern nations, down to the ground.
37:11. His brethren therefore envied him:  but his father considered the
thing with himself.
37:12. And when his brethren abode in Sechem, feeding their father's
37:13. Israel said to him:  Thy brethren feed the sheep in Sichem:  come,
I will send thee to them.  And when he answered:
37:14. I am ready:  he said to him:  Go, and see if all things be well
with thy brethren, and the cattle:  and bring me word again what is
doing.  So being sent from the vale of Hebron, he came to Sichem:
37:15. And a man found him there wandering in the field, and asked what
37:16. But he answered:  I seek my brethren, tell me where they feed the
37:17. And the man said to him:  They are departed from this place:  for
I heard them say:  Let us go to Dothain.  And Joseph went forward after
his brethren, and found them in Dothain.
37:18. And when they saw him afar off, before he came nigh them, they
thought to kill him:
37:19. And said one to another:  Behold the dreamer cometh.
37:20. Come, let us kill him, and cast him into some old pit:  and we
will say:  Some evil beast hath devoured him:  and then it shall appear
what his dreams avail him:
37:21. And Ruben hearing this, endeavoured to deliver him out of their
hands, and said:
37:22. Do not take away his life, nor shed his blood:  but cast him into
this pit, that is in the wilderness, and keep your hands harmless:  now
he said this, being desirous to deliver him out of their hands and to
restore him to his father.
37:23. And as soon as he came to his brethren, they forthwith stript
him of his outside coat, that was of divers colours:
37:24. And cast him into an old pit where there was not water.
37:25. And sitting down to eat bread, they saw some Ismaelites on their
way coming from Galaad, with their camels, carrying spices, and balm,
and myrrh to Egypt.
37:26. And Juda said to his brethren:  What will it profit us to kill
our brother, and conceal his blood?
37:27. It is better that he be sold to the Ismaelites, and that our
hands be not defiled:  for he is our brother and our flesh.  His brethren
agreed to his words.
37:28. And when the Madianite merchants passed by, they drew him out of
the pit, and sold him to the Ismaelites, for twenty pieces of silver:
and they led him into Egypt.
37:29. And Ruben returning to the pit, found not the boy:
37:30. And rending his garments he went to his brethren, and said:  The
boy doth not appear, and whither shall I go?
37:31. And they took his coat, and dipped it in the blood of a kid,
which they had killed:
37:32. Sending some to carry it to their father, and to say:  This we
have found:  see whether it be thy son's coat, or not.
37:33. And the father acknowledging it, said:  It is my son's coat, an
evil wild beast hath eaten him, a beast hath devoured Joseph.
37:34. And tearing his garments, he put on sackcloth, mourning for his
son a long time.
37:35. And all his children being gathered together to comfort their
father in his sorrow, he would not receive comfort, but said:  I will go
down to my son into hell, mourning.  And whilst he continued weeping,
Into hell. . .That is, into limbo, the place where the souls of the just
were received before the death of our Redeemer.  For allowing that the
word hell sometimes is taken for the grave, it cannot be so taken in
this place; since Jacob did not believe his son to be in the grave,
(whom he supposed to be devoured by a wild beast,) and therefore could
not mean to go down to him thither:  but certainly meant the place of
rest where he believed his soul to be.
37:36. The Madianites sold Joseph in Egypt to Putiphar, an eunuch of
Pharao, captain of the soldiers.
An eunuch. . .This word sometimes signifies a chamberlain, courtier, or
officer of the king:  and so it is taken in this place.
Genesis Chapter 38
The sons of Juda:  the death of Her and Onan:  the birth of Phares and
38:1. At that time Juda went down from his brethren, and turned in to a
certain Odollamite, named Hiras.
38:2. And he saw there the daughter of a man of Chanaan, called Sue:
and taking her to wife, he went in unto her.
38:3. And she conceived, and bore a son, and called his name Her.
38:4. And conceiving again, she bore a son, and called him Onan.
38:5. She bore also a third:  whom she called Sela.  After whose birth,
she ceased to bear any more.
38:6. And Juda took a wife for Her, his first born, whose name was
38:7. And Her, the first born of Juda, was wicked in the sight of the
Lord:  and was slain by him.
38:8. Juda, therefore, said to Onan his son:  Go in to thy brother's
wife and marry her, that thou mayst raise seed to thy brother.
38:9. He knowing that the children should not be his, when he went in
to his brother's wife, he spilled his seed upon the ground, lest
children should be born in his brother's name.
38:10. And therefore the Lord slew him, because he did a detestable
38:11. Wherefore Juda said to Thamar his daughter-in-law:  Remain a
widow in thy father's house, till Sela my son grow up:  for he was
afraid lest he also might die, as his brethren did.  She went her way,
and dwelt in her father's house.
38:12. And after many days were past:  the daughter of Sue the wife of
Juda died:  and when he had taken comfort after his mourning, he went up
to Thamnas, to the shearers of his sheep, he and Hiras the Odollamite,
the shepherd of his flock.
38:13. And it was told Thamar that her father-in-law was come up to
Thamnas to shear his sheep.
38:14. And she put off the garments of her widowhood, and took a veil:
and changing her dress, sat in the cross way, that leadeth to Thamnas:
because Sela was grown up, and she had not been married to him.
38:15. When Juda saw her, he thought she was a harlot:  for she had
covered her face, lest she should be known.
38:16. And going to her, he said:  Suffer me to lie with thee:  for he
knew her not to be his daughter-in-law.  And she answered:  What wilt
thou give me to enjoy my company?
38:17. He said:  I will send thee a kid out of the flock.  And when she
said again:  I will suffer what thou wilt, if thou give me a pledge,
till thou send what thou promisest.
38:18. Juda said:  What wilt thou have for a pledge?  She answered:  Thy
ring and bracelet, and the staff which thou holdest in thy hand.  The
woman therefore at one copulation conceived.
38:19. And she arose and went her way:  and putting off the apparel
which she had taken, put on the garments of her widowhood.
38:20. And Juda sent a kid by his shepherd, the Odollamite, that he
might receive the pledge again, which he had given to the woman:  but
he, not finding her,
38:21. Asked the men of that place:  Where is the woman that sat in the
cross way?  And when they all made answer:  There was no harlot in this
38:22. He returned to Juda, and said to him:  I have not found her;
moreover, the men of that place said to me, that there never sat a
harlot there.
38:23. Juda said:  Let her take it to herself, surely she cannot charge
us with a lie, I sent the kid which I promised:  and thou didst not find
38:24. And behold, after three months, they told Juda, saying:  Thamar,
thy daughter-in-law, hath played the harlot, and she appeareth to have
a big belly.  And Juda said:  Bring her out that she may be burnt.
38:25. But when she was led to execution, she sent to her father in
law, saying:  By the man, to whom these things belong, I am with child.
See whose ring, and bracelet, and staff this is.
38:26. But he acknowledging the gifts, said:  She is juster than I:
because I did not give her to Sela, my son.  However he knew her no
38:27. And when she was ready to be brought to bed, there appeared
twins in her womb:  and in the very delivery of the infants, one put
forth a hand, whereon the midwife tied a scarlet thread, saying:
38:28. This shall come forth the first.
38:29. But he drawing back his hand, the other came forth:  and the
woman said:  Why is the partition divided for thee?  and therefore called
his name Phares.
Phares. . .That is, a breach or division.
38:30. Afterwards his brother came out, on whose hand was the scarlet
thread:  and she called his name Zara.
Genesis Chapter 39
Joseph hath charge of his master's house:  rejecteth his mistress's
solicitations:  is falsely accused by her, and cast into prison, where
he hath the charge of all the prisoners.
39:1. And Joseph was brought into Egypt, and Putiphar, an eunuch of
Pharao, chief captain of the army, an Egyptian, bought him of the
Ismaelites, by whom he was brought.
39:2. And the Lord was with him, and he was a prosperous man in all
things:  and he dwelt in his master's house:
39:3. Who knew very well that the Lord was with him, and made all that
he did to prosper in his hand.
39:4. And Joseph found favour in the sight of his master, and
ministered to him:  and being set over all by him, he governed the house
committed to him, and all things that were delivered to him:
39:5. And the Lord blessed the house of the Egyptian for Joseph's sake,
and multiplied all his substance, both at home and in the fields.
39:6. Neither knew he any other thing, but the bread which he ate.  And
Joseph was of a beautiful countenance, and comely to behold.
39:7. And after many days, his mistress cast her eyes on Joseph, and
said:  Lie with me.
39:8. But he in no wise consenting to that wicked act said to her:
Behold, my master hath delivered all things to me, and knoweth not what
he hath in his own house:
39:9. Neither is there any thing which is not in my power, or that he
hath not delivered to me, but thee, who art his wife; how then can I do
this wicked thing, and sin against my God?
39:10. With such words as these day by day, both the woman was
importunate with the young man, and he refused the adultery.
39:11. Now it happened on a certain day, that Joseph went into the
house, and was doing some business, without any man with him:
39:12. And she catching the skirt of his garment, said:  Lie with me.
But he leaving the garment in her hand, fled, and went out.
39:13. And when the woman saw the garment in her hands, and herself
disregarded,
39:14. She called to her the men of her house, and said to them:  See,
he hath brought in a Hebrew, to abuse us:  he came in to me, to lie with
me; and when I cried out,
39:15. And he heard my voice, he left the garment that I held, and got
39:16. For a proof therefore of her fidelity, she kept the garment, and
shewed it to her husband when he returned home:
A proof of her fidelity. . .or an argument to gain credit, argumentum
39:17. And said:  The Hebrew servant, whom thou hast brought, came to me
to abuse me.
39:18. And when he heard me cry, he left the garment which I held, and
39:19. His master hearing these things, and giving too much credit to
his wife's words, was very angry,
39:20. And cast Joseph into the prison, where the king's prisoners were
kept, and he was there shut up.
39:21. But the Lord was with Joseph, and having mercy upon him gave him
favour in the sight of the chief keeper of the prison:
39:22. Who delivered into his hand all the prisoners that were kept in
custody:  and whatsoever was done, was under him.
39:23. Neither did he himself know any thing, having committed all
things to him:  for the Lord was with him, and made all that he did to
Genesis Chapter 40
Joseph interpreteth the dreams of two of Pharao's servants in prison:
the event declareth the interpretations to be true, but Joseph is
40:1. After this, it came to pass, that two eunuchs, the butler and the
baker of the king of Egypt, offended their lord.
40:2. And Pharao being angry with them, (now the one was chief butler,
the other chief baker,)
40:3. He sent them to the prison of the commander of the soldiers, in
which Joseph also was prisoner.
40:4. But the keeper of the prison delivered them to Joseph, and he
served them.  Some little time passed, and they were kept in custody.
40:5. And they both dreamed a dream the same night, according to the
interpretation agreeing to themselves:
40:6. And when Joseph was come into them in the morning, and saw them
40:7. He asked them, saying:  Why is your countenance sadder today than
40:8. They answered:  We have dreamed a dream, and there is nobody to
interpret it to us.  And Joseph said to them:  Doth not interpretation
belong to God?  Tell me what you have dreamed:
Doth not interpretation belong to God?. . .When dreams are from God, as
these were, the interpretation of them is a gift of God.  But the
generality of dreams are not of this sort; but either proceed from the
natural complexions and dispositions of persons, or the roving of their
imaginations in the day on such objects as they are much affected with,
or from their mind being disturbed with cares and troubles, and
oppressed with bodily infirmities:  or they are suggested by evil
spirits, to flatter, or to terrify weak minds, in order to gain belief,
and so draw them into error or superstition; or at least to trouble
them in their sleep, whom they cannot move when they are awake:  so that
the general rule, with regard to dreams, is not to observe them, nor to
give any credit to them.
40:9. The chief butler first told his dream:  I saw before me a vine,
40:10. On which were three branches, which by little and little sent
out buds, and after the blossoms brought forth ripe grapes:
40:11. And the cup of Pharao was in my hand:  and I took the grapes, and
pressed them into the cup which I held, and I gave the cup to Pharao.
40:12. Joseph answered:  This is the interpretation of the dream:  The
three branches, are yet three days:
40:13. After which Pharao will remember thy service, and will restore
thee to thy former place:  and thou shalt present him the cup according
to thy office, as before thou was wont to do.
40:14. Only remember me when it shall be well with thee, and do me this
kindness:  to put Pharao in mind to take me out of this prison:
40:15. For I was stolen away out of the land of the Hebrews, and here
without any fault was cast into the dungeon.
40:16. The chief baker seeing that he had wisely interpreted the dream,
said:  I also dreamed a dream, That I had three baskets of meal upon my
40:17. And that in one basket which was uppermost, I carried all meats
that are made by the art of baking, and that the birds ate out of it.
40:18. Joseph answered:  This is the interpretation of the dream:  The
three baskets, are yet three days:
40:19. After which Pharao will take thy head from thee, and hang thee
on a cross, and the birds shall tear thy flesh.
40:20. The third day after this was the birthday of Pharao:  and he made
a great feast for his servants, and at the banquet remembered the chief
butler, and the chief baker.
40:21. And he restored the one to his place, to present him the cup:
40:22. The other he hanged on a gibbet, that the truth of the
interpreter might be shewn.
40:23. But the chief butler, when things prospered with him, forgot his
interpreter.
Genesis Chapter 41
Joseph interpreteth the two dreams of Pharao:  he is made ruler over all
41:1. After two years Pharao had a dream.  He thought he stood by the
41:2. Out of which came up seven kine, very beautiful and fat:  and they
fed in marshy places.
41:3. Other seven also came up out of the river, ill-favoured, and lean
fleshed:  and they fed on the very bank of the river, in green places:
41:4. And they devoured them, whose bodies were very beautiful and well
conditioned.  So Pharao awoke.
41:5. He slept again, and dreamed another dream:  Seven ears of corn
came up upon one stalk full and fair:
41:6. Then seven other ears sprung up thin and blasted,
41:7. And devoured all the beauty of the former.  Pharao awaked after
41:8. And when morning was come, being struck with fear, he sent to all
the interpreters of Egypt, and to all the wise men:  and they being
called for, he told them his dream, and there was not any one that
could interpret it.
41:9. Then at length the chief butler remembering, said:  I confess my
41:10. The king being angry with his servants, commanded me and the
chief baker to be cast into the prison of the captain of the soldiers.
41:11. Where in one night both of us dreamed a dream foreboding things
41:12. There was there a young man a Hebrew, servant to the same
captain of the soldiers:  to whom we told our dreams,
41:13. And we heard what afterwards the event of the thing proved to be
so.  For I was restored to my office:  and he was hanged upon a gibbet.
41:14. Forthwith at the king's command Joseph was brought out of the
prison, and they shaved him:  and changing his apparel brought him in to
41:15. And he said to him:  I have dreamed dreams, and there is no one
that can expound them:  Now I have heard that thou art very wise at
interpreting them:
41:16. Joseph answered:  Without me, God shall give Pharao a prosperous
41:17. So Pharao told what he had dreamed:  Methought I stood upon the
bank of the river,
41:18. And seven kine came up out of the river, exceeding beautiful and
full of flesh:  and they grazed on green places in a marshy pasture.
41:19. And behold, there followed these, other seven kine, so very
ill-favoured and lean, that I never saw the like in the land of Egypt:
41:20. And they devoured and consumed the former,
41:21. And yet gave no mark of their being full:  but were as lean and
ill-favoured as before.  I awoke, and then fell asleep again,
41:22. And dreamed a dream:  Seven ears of corn grew up upon one stalk,
full and very fair.
41:23. Other seven also thin and blasted, sprung of the stalk:
41:24. And they devoured the beauty of the former:  I told this dream to
the conjecturers, and there is no man that can expound it.
41:25. Joseph answered:  The king's dream is one:  God hath shewn to
Pharao what he is about to do.
41:26. The seven beautiful kine, and the seven full ears, are seven
years of plenty:  and both contain the same meaning of the dream.
41:27. And the seven lean and thin kine that came up after them, and
the seven thin ears that were blasted with the burning wind, are seven
years of famine to come:
41:28. Which shall be fulfilled in this order.
41:29. Behold, there shall come seven years of great plenty in the
whole land of Egypt:
41:30. After which shall follow other seven years of so great scarcity,
that all the abundance before shall be forgotten:  for the famine shall
consume all the land,
41:31. And the greatness of the scarcity shall destroy the greatness of
41:32. And for that thou didst see the second time a dream pertaining
to the same thing:  it is a token of the certainty, and that the word of
God cometh to pass, and is fulfilled speedily.
41:33. Now therefore let the king provide a wise and industrious man,
and make him ruler over the land of Egypt:
41:34. That he may appoint overseers over all the countries:  and gather
into barns the fifth part of the fruits, during the seven fruitful
41:35. That shall now presently ensue:  and let all the corn be laid up,
under Pharao's hands, and be reserved in the cities.
41:36. And let it be in readiness, against the famine of seven years to
come, which shall oppress Egypt, and the land shall not be consumed
with scarcity.
41:37. The counsel pleased Pharao, and all his servants.
41:38. And he said to them:  Can we find such another man, that is full
of the spirit of God?
41:39. He said therefore to Joseph:  Seeing God hath shewn thee all that
thou hast said, can I find one wiser and one like unto thee?
41:40. Thou shalt be over my house, and at the commandment of thy mouth
all the people shall obey:  only in the kingly throne will I be above
41:41. And again Pharao said to Joseph:  Behold, I have appointed thee
over the whole land of Egypt.
41:42. And he took his ring from his own hand, and gave it into his
hand:  and he put upon him a robe of silk, and put a chain of gold about
41:43. And he made him go up into his second chariot, the crier
proclaiming that all should bow their knee before him, and that they
should know he was made governor over the whole land of Egypt.
41:44. And the king said to Joseph:  I am Pharao:  without thy
commandment no man shall move hand or foot in all the land of Egypt.
41:45. And he turned his name, and called him in the Egyptian tongue
the saviour of the world.  And he gave him to wife Aseneth, the daughter
of Putiphare, priest of Heliopolis.  Then Joseph went out to the land of
The saviour of the world. . .Zaphnah paaneah.
41:46. (Now he was thirty years old when he stood before king Pharao),
and he went round all the countries of Egypt.
41:47. And the fruitfulness of the seven years came:  and the corn being
bound up into sheaves, was gathered together into the barns of Egypt.
41:48. And all the abundance of grain was laid up in every city.
41:49. And there was so great abundance of wheat, that it was equal to
the sand of the sea, and the plenty exceeded measure.
41:50. And before the famine came, Joseph had two sons born:  whom
Aseneth, the daughter of Putiphare, priest of Heliopolis, bore unto
41:51. And he called the name of the firstborn Manasses, saying:  God
hath made me to forget all my labours, and my father's house.
Manasses. . .That is, oblivion, or forgetting.
41:52. And he named the second Ephraim, saying:  God hath made me to
grow in the land of my poverty.
Ephraim. . .That is, fruitful, or growing.
41:53. Now when the seven years of plenty that had been in Egypt were
41:54. The seven years of scarcity, which Joseph had foretold, began to
come:  and the famine prevailed in the whole world, but there was bread
in all the land of Egypt.
41:55. And when there also they began to be famished, the people cried
to Pharao, for food.  And he said to them:  Go to Joseph:  and do all
that he shall say to you.
41:56. And the famine increased daily in all the land:  and Joseph
opened all the barns, and sold to the Egyptians:  for the famine had
oppressed them also.
41:57. And all provinces came into Egypt, to buy food, and to seek some
relief of their want.
Genesis Chapter 42
Jacob sendeth his ten sons to buy corn in Egypt.  Their treatment by
42:1. And Jacob hearing that food was sold in Egypt, said to his sons:
Why are ye careless?
42:2. I have heard that wheat is sold in Egypt:  Go ye down, and buy us
necessaries, that we may live, and not be consumed with want.
42:3. So the ten brethren of Joseph went down, to buy corn in Egypt:
42:4. Whilst Benjamin was kept at home by Jacob, who said to his
brethren:  Lest perhaps he take any harm in the journey.
42:5. And they entered into the land of Egypt with others that went to
buy.  For the famine was in the land of Chanaan.
42:6. And Joseph was governor in the land of Egypt, and corn was sold
by his direction to the people.  And when his brethren had bowed down to
42:7. And he knew them, he spoke as it were to strangers, somewhat
roughly, asking them:  Whence came you?  They answered:  From the land of
Chanaan, to buy necessaries of life.
42:8. And though he knew his brethren, he was not known by them.
42:9. And remembering the dreams, which formerly he had dreamed, he
said to them:  You are spies.  You are come to view the weaker parts of
You are spies. . .This he said by way of examining them, to see what
they would answer.
42:10. But they said:  It is not so, my lord; but thy servants are come
to buy food.
42:11. We are all the sons of one man:  we are come as peaceable men,
neither do thy servants go about any evil.
42:12. And he answered them:  It is otherwise:  you are come to consider
the unfenced parts of this land.
42:13. But they said:  We thy servants are twelve brethren, the sons of
one man in the land of Chanaan:  the youngest is with our father, the
other is not living.
42:14. He saith, This is it that I said:  You are spies.
42:15. I shall now presently try what you are:  by the health of Pharao,
you shall not depart hence, until your youngest brother come.
42:16. Send one of you to fetch him:  and you shall be in prison, till
what you have said be proved, whether it be true or false:  or else by
the health of Pharao you are spies.
Or else by the health of Pharao you are spies. . .That is, if these
things you say be proved false, you are to be held for spies for your
lying, and shall be treated as such.  Joseph dealt in this manner with
his brethren, to bring them by the means of affliction to a sense of
their former sin, and a sincere repentance for it.
42:17. So he put them in prison three days.
42:18. And the third day he brought them out of prison, and said:  Do as
I have said, and you shall live:  for I fear God.
42:19. If you be peaceable men, let one of your brethren be bound in
prison:  and go ye your ways, and carry the corn that you have bought,
unto your houses.
42:20. And bring your youngest brother to me, that I may find your
words to be true, and you may not die.  They did as he had said.
42:21. And they talked one to another:  We deserve to suffer these
things, because we have sinned against our brother, seeing the anguish
of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear:  therefore is
this affliction come upon us.
42:22. And Ruben, one of them, said:  Did not I say to you:  Do not sin
against the boy; and you would not hear me?  Behold his blood is
42:23. And they knew not that Joseph understood, because he spoke to
them by an interpreter.
42:24. And he turned himself away a little while, and wept:  and
returning, he spoke to them.
42:25. And taking Simeon, and binding him in their presence, he
commanded his servants to fill their sacks with wheat, and to put every
man's money again in their sacks, and to give them besides provisions
for the way:  and they did so.
42:26. But they having loaded their asses with the corn went their way.
42:27. And one of them opening his sack, to give his beast provender in
the inn, saw the money in the sack's mouth,
42:28. And said to his brethren:  My money is given me again; behold it
is in the sack.  And they were astonished, and troubled, and said to one
another:  What is this that God hath done unto us?
42:29. And they came to Jacob their father in the land of Chanaan, and
they told him all things that had befallen them, saying:
42:30. The lord of the land spoke roughly to us, and took us to be
spies of the country.
42:31. And we answered him:  We are peaceable men, and we mean no plot.
42:32. We are twelve brethren born of one father:  one is not living,
the youngest is with our father in the land of Chanaan.
42:33. And he said to us:  Hereby shall I know that you are peaceable
men:  Leave one of your brethren with me, and take ye necessary
provision for your houses, and go your ways,
42:34. And bring your youngest brother to me, that I may know you are
not spies:  and you may receive this man again, that is kept in prison:
and afterwards may have leave to buy what you will.
42:35. When they had told this, they poured out their corn, and every
man found his money tied in the mouth of his sack:  and all being
astonished together,
42:36. Their father Jacob said:  You have made me to be without
children:  Joseph is not living, Simeon is kept in bonds, and Benjamin
you will take away:  all these evils are fallen upon me.
42:37. And Ruben answered him:  Kill my two sons, if I bring him not
again to thee:  deliver him into my hand, and I will restore him to
42:38. But he said:  My son shall not go down with you:  his brother is
dead, and he is left alone:  if any mischief befall him in the land to
which you go, you will bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to hell.
To hell. . .That is, to that place, where the souls then remained, as
above, chapter 37. ver. 35.
Genesis Chapter 43
The sons of Jacob go again into Egypt with Benjamin.  They are
entertained by Joseph.
43:1. In the mean time the famine was heavy upon all the land.
43:2. And when they had eaten up all the corn, which they had brought
out of Egypt, Jacob said to his sons:  Go again, and buy us a little
43:3. Juda answered:  The man declared unto us with the attestation of
an oath, saying:  You shall not see my face, unless you bring your
youngest brother with you.
43:4. If therefore thou wilt send him with us, we will set out
together, and will buy necessaries for thee.
43:5. But if thou wilt not, we will not go:  for the man, as we have
often said, declared unto us, saying:  You shall not see my face without
your youngest brother.
43:6. Israel said to them:  You have done this for my misery, in that
you told him you had also another brother.
43:7. But they answered:  The man asked us in order concerning our
kindred:  if our father lived:  if we had a brother:  and we answered him
regularly, according to what he demanded:  could we know that he would
say:  Bring hither your brother with you?
43:8. And Juda said to his father:  Send the boy with me, that we may
set forward, and may live:  lest both we and our children perish.
43:9. I take the boy upon me, require him at my hand:  unless I bring
him again, and restore him to thee, I will be guilty of sin against
thee for ever.
43:10. If delay had not been made, we had been here again the second
43:11. Then Israel said to them:  If it must needs be so, do what you
will:  take of the best fruits of the land in your vessels, and carry
down presents to the man, a little balm, and honey, and storax, myrrh,
turpentine, and almonds.
Balm. . .Literally rosin, resinae; but here by that name is meant balm.
43:12. And take with you double money, and carry back what you found in
your sacks, lest perhaps it was done by mistake.
43:13. And take also your brother, and go to the man.
43:14. And may my almighty God make him favourable to you:  and send
back with you your brother, whom he keepeth, and this Benjamin:  and as
for me I shall be desolate without children.
43:15. So the men took the presents, and double money, and Benjamin:
and went down into Egypt, and stood before Joseph.
43:16. And when he had seen them, and Benjamin with them, he commanded
the steward of his house, saying:  Bring in the men into the house, and
kill victims, and prepare a feast:  because they shall eat with me at
43:17. He did as he was commanded, and brought the men into the house.
43:18. And they being much afraid, said there one to another:  Because
of the money, which we carried back the first time in our sacks, we are
brought in:  that he may bring upon us a false accusation, and by
violence make slaves of us and our asses.
43:19. Wherefore, going up to the steward of the house, at the door,
43:20. They said:  Sir, we desire thee to hear us.  We came down once
before to buy food:
43:21. And when we had bought, and were come to the inn, we opened our
sacks, and found our money in the mouths of the sacks:  which we have
now brought again in the same weight.
43:22. And we have brought other money besides, to buy what we want:  we
cannot tell who put it in our bags.
43:23. But he answered:  Peace be with you, fear not:  your God, and the
God of your father, hath given you treasure in your sacks.  For the
money, which you gave me, I have for good.  And he brought Simeon out to
43:24. And having brought them into the house, he fetched water, and
they washed their feet, and he gave provender to their asses.
43:25. But they made ready the presents, against Joseph came at noon:
for they had heard that they should eat bread there.
43:26. Then Joseph came in to his house, and they offered him the
presents, holding them in their hands; and they bowed down with their
face to the ground.
43:27. But he courteously saluting them again, asked them, saying:  Is
the old man your father in health, of whom you told me?  Is he yet
43:28. And they answered:  Thy servant our father, is in health; he is
yet living.  And bowing themselves, they made obeisance to him.
43:29. And Joseph lifting up his eyes, saw Benjamin, his brother by the
same mother, and said:  Is this your young brother, of whom you told me?
And he said:  God be gracious to thee, my son.
43:30. And he made haste, because his heart was moved upon his brother,
and tears gushed out:  and going into his chamber, he wept.
43:31. And when he had washed his face, coming out again, he refrained
himself, and said:  Set bread on the table.
43:32. And when it was set on, for Joseph apart, and for his brethren
apart, for the Egyptians also that ate with him apart, (for it is
unlawful for the Egyptians to eat with the Hebrews, and they think such
a feast profane):
43:33. They sat before him, the firstborn according to his birthright,
and the youngest according to his age.  And they wondered very much;
43:34. Taking the messes which they received of him:  and the greater
mess came to Benjamin, so that it exceeded by five parts.  And they
drank, and were merry with him.
Genesis Chapter 44
Joseph's contrivance to stop his brethren.  The humble supplication of
44:1. And Joseph commanded the steward of his house, saying:  Fill their
sacks with corn, as much as they can hold:  and put the money of every
one in the top of his sack.
44:2. And in the mouth of the younger's sack put my silver cup, and the
price which he gave for the wheat.  And it was so done.
44:3. And when the morning arose, they were sent away with their asses.
44:4. And when they were now departed out of the city, and had gone
forward a little way:  Joseph sending for the steward of his house,
said:  Arise, and pursue after the men:  and when thou hast overtaken
them, say to them:  Why have you returned evil for good?
44:5. The cup which you have stolen, is that in which my lord drinketh,
and in which he is wont to divine:  you have done a very evil thing.
44:6. He did as he had commanded him.  And having overtaken them, he
spoke to them the same words.
44:7. And they answered:  Why doth our lord speak so, as though thy
servants had committed so heinous a fact?
44:8. The money, that we found in the top of our sacks, we brought back
to thee from the land of Chanaan:  how then should it be that we should
steal out of thy lord's house, gold or silver?
44:9. With whomsoever of thy servants shall be found that which thou
seekest, let him die, and we will be the bondmen of my lord.
44:10. And he said to them:  Let it be according to your sentence:  with
whomsoever it shall be found, let him be my servant, and you shall be
44:11. Then they speedily took down their sacks to the ground, and
every man opened his sack.
44:12. Which when he had searched, beginning at the eldest, and ending
at the youngest, he found the cup in Benjamin's sack.
44:13. Then they rent their garments, and loading their asses again,
returned into the town.
44:14. And Juda at the head of his brethren went in to Joseph (for he
was not yet gone out of the place) and they all together fell down
before him on the ground.
44:15. And he said to them:  Why would you do so?  know you not that
there is no one like me in the science of divining.
The science of divining. . .He speaks of himself according to what he
was esteemed in that kingdom.  And indeed, he being truly a prophet,
knew more without comparison than any of the Egyptian sorcerers.
44:16. And Juda said to him:  What shall we answer my lord?  or what
shall we say, or be able justly to allege?  God hath found out the
iniquity of thy servants:  behold, we are all bondmen to my lord, both
we, and he with whom the cup was found.
44:17. Joseph answered:  God forbid that I should do so:  he that stole
the cup, he shall be my bondman:  and go you away free to your father.
44:18. Then Juda coming nearer, said boldly:  I beseech thee, my lord,
let thy servant speak a word in thy ears, and be not angry with thy
servant:  for after Pharao thou art.
44:19. My lord.  Thou didst ask thy servants the first time:  Have you a
father or a brother.
44:20. And we answered thee, my lord:  We have a father an old man, and
a young boy, that was born in his old age; whose brother by the mother
is dead; and he alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him
44:21. And thou saidst to thy servants:  Bring him hither to me, and I
will set my eyes on him.
44:22. We suggested to my lord:  The boy cannot leave his father:  for if
he leave him, he will die.
44:23. And thou saidst to thy servants:  Except your youngest brother
come with you, you shall see my face no more.
44:24. Therefore when we were gone up to thy servant our father, we
told him all that my lord had said.
44:25. And our father said:  Go again, and buy us a little wheat.
44:26. And we said to him:  We cannot go:  if our youngest brother go
down with us, we will set out together:  otherwise, without him we dare
not see the man's face.
44:27. Whereunto he answered:  You know that my wife bore me two.
44:28. One went out, and you said:  A beast devoured him; and hitherto
he appeareth not.
44:29. If you take this also, and any thing befall him in the way, you
will bring down my grey hairs with sorrow unto hell.
44:30. Therefore, if I shall go to thy servant, our father, and the boy
be wanting, (whereas his life dependeth upon the life of him,)
44:31. And he shall see that he is not with us, he will die, and thy
servants shall bring down his grey hairs with sorrow unto hell.
His gray hairs. . .That is, his person, now far advanced in years.--With
sorrow unto hell. . .The Hebrew word for hell is here sheol, the Greek
hades:  it is not taken for the hell of the damned; but for that place
of souls below where the servants of God were kept before the coming of
Christ.  Which place, both in the Scripture and in the creed, is named
44:32. Let me be thy proper servant, who took him into my trust, and
promised, saying:  If I bring him not again, I will be guilty of sin
against my father for ever.
44:33. Therefore I, thy servant, will stay instead of the boy in the
service of my lord, and let the boy go up with his brethren.
44:34. For I cannot return to my father without the boy, lest I be a
witness of the calamity that will oppress my father.
Genesis Chapter 45
Joseph maketh himself known to his brethren:  and sendeth for his
45:1. Joseph could no longer refrain himself before many that stood by:
whereupon he commanded that all should go out, and no stranger be
present at their knowing one another.
45:2. And he lifted up his voice with weeping, which the Egyptians, and
all the house of Pharao heard.
45:3. And he said to his brethren:  I am Joseph:  Is my father yet
living?  His brethren could not answer him, being struck with exceeding
45:4. And he said mildly to them:  Come nearer to me.  And when they were
come near him, he said:  I am Joseph, your brother, whom you sold into
45:5. Be not afraid, and let it not seem to you a hard case that you
sold me into these countries:  for God sent me before you into Egypt for
your preservation.
45:6. For it is two years since the famine began to be upon the land,
and five years more remain, wherein there can be neither ploughing nor
45:7. And God sent me before, that you may be preserved upon the earth,
and may have food to live.
45:8. Not by your counsel was I sent hither, but by the will of God:
who hath made me as it were a father to Pharao, and lord of his whole
house, and governor in all the land of Egypt.
45:9. Make haste, and go ye up to my father, and say to him:  Thus saith
thy son Joseph:  God hath made me lord of the whole land of Egypt; come
down to me, linger not.
45:10. And thou shalt dwell in the land of Gessen:  and thou shalt be
near me, thou and thy sons, and thy sons' sons, thy sheep, and thy
herds, and all things that thou hast.
45:11. And there I will feed thee, (for there are yet five years of
famine remaining) lest both thou perish, and thy house, and all things
that thou hast.
45:12. Behold, your eyes, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, see that
it is my mouth that speaketh to you.
45:13. You shall tell my father of all my glory, and all things that
you have seen in Egypt:  make haste and bring him to me.
45:14. And falling upon the neck of his brother Benjamin, he embraced
him and wept:  and Benjamin in like manner wept also on his neck.
45:15. And Joseph kissed all his brethren, and wept upon every one of
them:  after which they were emboldened to speak to him.
45:16. And it was heard, and the fame was spread abroad in the king's
court:  The brethren of Joseph are come; and Pharao with all his family
45:17. And he spoke to Joseph that he should give orders to his
brethren, saying:  Load your beasts, and go into the land of Chanaan,
45:18. And bring away from thence your father and kindred, and come to
me; and I will give you all the good things of Egypt, that you may eat
the marrow of the land.
45:19. Give orders also that they take wagons out of the land of Egypt,
for the carriage of their children and their wives; and say:  Take up
your father, and make haste to come with all speed:
45:20. And leave nothing of your household stuff; for all the riches of
Egypt shall be yours.
45:21. And the sons of Israel did as they were bid.  And Joseph gave
them wagons according to Pharao's commandment:  and provisions for the
45:22. He ordered also to be brought out for every one of them two
robes:  but to Benjamin he gave three hundred pieces of silver, with
five robes of the best:
45:23. Sending to his father as much money and raiment; adding besides,
ten he-asses, to carry off all the riches of Egypt, and as many
she-asses, carrying wheat and bread for the journey.
45:24. So he sent away his brethren, and at their departing said to
them:  Be not angry in the way.
45:25. And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the land of
Chanaan, to their father Jacob.
45:26. And they told him, saying:  Joseph, thy son, is living; and he is
ruler in all the land of Egypt.  Which when Jacob heard, he awaked as it
were out of a deep sleep, yet did not believe them.
45:27. They, on the other side, told the whole order of the thing.  And
when he saw the wagons, and all that he had sent, his spirit revived,
45:28. And he said:  It is enough for me if Joseph, my son, be yet
living:  I will go and see him before I die.
Genesis Chapter 46
Israel, warranted by a vision from God, goeth down into Egypt with all
46:1. And Israel taking his journey, with all that he had, came to the
well of the oath, and killing victims there to the God of his father
The well of the oath. . .Bersabee.
46:2. He heard him, by a vision in the night, calling him, and saying
to him:  Jacob, Jacob.  And he answered him:  Lo, here I am.
46:3. God said to him:  I am the most mighty God of thy father; fear
not, go down into Egypt, for I will make a great nation of thee there.
46:4. I will go down with thee thither, and will bring thee back again
from thence:  Joseph also shall put his hands upon thy eyes.
46:5. And Jacob rose up from the well of the oath:  and his sons took
him up, with their children and wives in the wagons, which Pharao had
sent to carry the old man,
46:6. And all that he had in the land of Chanaan:  and he came into
Egypt with all his seed;
46:7. His sons, and grandsons, daughters, and all his offspring
46:8. And these are the names of the children of Israel, that entered
into Egypt, he and his children.  His firstborn Ruben,
46:9. The sons of Ruben:  Henoch and Phallu, and Hesron and Charmi.
46:10. The sons of Simeon:  Jamuel and Jamin and Ahod, and Jachin and
Sohar, and Saul, the son of a woman of Chanaan.
46:11. The sons of Levi:  Gerson and Caath, and Merari.
46:12. The sons of Juda:  Her and Onan, and Sela, and Phares and Zara.
And Her and Onan died in the land of Chanaan.  And sons were born to
Phares:  Hesron and Hamul.
46:13. The sons of Issachar:  Thola and Phua, and Job and Semron.
46:14. The sons of Zabulon:  Sared, and Elon, and Jahelel.
46:15. These are the sons of Lia, whom she bore in Mesopotamia of
Syria, with Dina, his daughter.  All the souls of her sons and
daughters, thirty-three.
46:16. The sons of Gad:  Sephion and Haggi, and Suni and Esebon, and
Heri and Arodi, and Areli.
46:17. The sons of Aser:  Jamne and Jesua, and Jessuri and Beria, and
Sara their sister.  The sons of Beria:  Heber and Melchiel.
46:18. These are the sons of Zelpha, whom Laban gave to Lia, his
daughter.  And these she bore to Jacob, sixteen souls.
46:19. The sons of Rachel, Jacob's wife:  Joseph and Benjamin.
46:20. And sons were born to Joseph, in the land of Egypt, whom
Aseneth, the daughter of Putiphare, priest of Heliopolis, bore him:
Manasses and Ephraim.
46:21. The sons of Benjamin:  Bela and Bechor, and Asbel and Gera, and
Naaman and Echi, and Ross and Mophim, and Ophim and Ared.
46:22. These are the sons of Rachel, whom she bore to Jacob:  all the
souls, fourteen.
46:23. The sons of Dan:  Husim.
46:24. The sons of Nephthali:  Jaziel and Guni, and Jeser and Sallem.
46:25. These are the sons of Bala, whom Laban gave to Rachel, his
daughter:  and these she bore to Jacob:  all the souls, seven.
46:26. All the souls that went with Jacob into Egypt, and that came out
of his thigh, besides his sons' wives, sixty-six.
46:27. And the sons of Joseph, that were born to him in the land of
Egypt, two souls.  All the souls of the house of Jacob, that entered
into Egypt, were seventy.
46:28. And he sent Juda before him to Joseph, to tell him; and that he
should meet him in Gessen.
46:29. And when he was come thither, Joseph made ready his chariot, and
went up to meet his father in the same place:  and seeing him, he fell
upon his neck, and embracing him, wept.
46:30. And the father said to Joseph:  Now shall I die with joy, because
I have seen thy face, and leave thee alive.
46:31. And Joseph said to his brethren, and to all his father's house:
I will go up, and will tell Pharao, and will say to him:  My brethren,
and my father's house, that were in the land of Chanaan, are come to
46:32. And the men are shepherds, and their occupation is to feed
cattle; their flocks, and herds, and all they have, they have brought
46:33. And when he shall call you, and shall say:  What is your
46:34. You shall answer:  We, thy servants, are shepherds, from our
infancy until now, both we and our fathers.  And this you shall say,
that you may dwell in the land of Gessen, because the Egyptians have
all shepherds in abomination.
Genesis Chapter 47
Jacob and his sons are presented before Pharao:  he giveth them the land
of Gessen.  The famine forceth the Egyptians to sell all their
possessions to the king.
47:1. Then Joseph went in and told Pharao, saying:  My father and
brethren, their sheep and their herds, and all that they possess, are
come out of the land of Chanaan:  and behold they stay in the land of
47:2. Five men also, the last of his brethren, he presented before the
The last. . .xtremos.  Some interpret this word of the chiefest, and most
rightly:  but Joseph seems rather to have chosen out such as had the
meanest appearance, that Pharao might not think of employing them at
court, with danger of their morals and religion.
47:3. And he asked them:  What is your occupation?  They answered:  We,
thy servants, are shepherds, both we and our fathers.
47:4. We are come to sojourn in thy land, because there is no grass for
the flocks of thy servants, the famine being very grievous in the land
of Chanaan:  and we pray thee to give orders that we thy servants may be
in the land of Gessen.
47:5. The king therefore said to Joseph:  Thy father and thy brethren
are come to thee.
47:6. The land of Egypt is before thee:  and make them dwell in the best
place, and give them the land of Gessen.  And if thou knowest that there
are industrious men among them, make them rulers over my cattle.
47:7. After this Joseph brought in his father to the king, and
presented him before him:  and he blessed him.
47:8. And being asked by him:  How many are the days of the years of thy
47:9. He answered:  The days of my pilgrimage are a hundred and thirty
years, few, and evil, and they are not come up to the days of the
pilgrimage of my fathers.
47:10. And blessing the king, he went out.
47:11. But Joseph gave a possession to his father and his brethren in
Egypt, in the best place of the land, in Ramesses, as Pharao had
47:12. And he nourished them, and all his father's house, allowing food
to every one.
47:13. For in the whole world there was want of bread, and a famine had
oppressed the land, more especially of Egypt and Chanaan;
47:14. Out of which he gathered up all the money for the corn which
they bought, and brought it in to the king's treasure.
47:15. And when the buyers wanted money, all Egypt came to Joseph,
saying:  Give us bread:  why should we die in thy presence, having now no
47:16. And he answered them:  Bring me your cattle, and for them I will
give you food, if you have no money.
47:17. And when they had brought them, he gave them food in exchange
for their horses, and sheep, and oxen, and asses:  and he maintained
them that year for the exchange of their cattle.
47:18. And they came the second year, and said to him:  We will not hide
from our lord, how that our money is spent, and our cattle also are
gone:  neither art thou ignorant that we have nothing now left but our
bodies and our lands.
47:19. Why therefore shall we die before thy eyes?  we will be thine,
both we and our lands:  buy us to be the king's servants, and give us
seed, lest for want of tillers the land be turned into a wilderness.
47:20. So Joseph bought all the land of Egypt, every man selling his
possessions, because of the greatness of the famine.  And he brought it
into Pharao's hands:
47:21. And all its people from one end of the borders of Egypt, even to
the other end thereof,
47:22. Except the land of the priests, which had been given them by the
king:  to whom also a certain allowance of food was given out of the
public stores, and therefore they were not forced to sell their
possessions.
47:23. Then Joseph said to the people:  Behold, as you see, both you and
your lands belong to Pharao; take seed and sow the fields,
47:24. That you may have corn.  The fifth part you shall give to the
king; the other four you shall have for seed, and for food for your
families and children.
47:25. And they answered:  our life is in thy hand; only let my lord
look favourably upon us, and we will gladly serve the king.
47:26. From that time unto this day, in the whole land of Egypt, the
fifth part is paid to the kings, and it is become as a law, except the
land of the priests, which was free from this covenant.
47:27. So Israel dwelt in Egypt, that is, in the land of Gessen, and
possessed it; and grew, and was multiplied exceedingly.
47:28. And he lived in it seventeen years:  and all the days of his life
came to a hundred and forty-seven years.
47:29. And when he saw that the day of his death drew nigh, he called
his son Joseph, and said to him:  If I have found favour in thy sight,
put thy hand under my thigh; and thou shalt shew me this kindness and
truth, not to bury me in Egypt.
47:30. But I will sleep with my fathers, and thou shalt take me away
out of this land, and bury me in the burying place of my ancestors.  And
Joseph answered him:  I will do what thou hast commanded.
47:31. And he said:  Swear then to me.  And as he was swearing, Israel
adored God, turning to the bed's head.
To the bed's head. . .St. Paul, Heb. 11.21, following the Greek
translation of the Septuagint, reads adored the top of his rod.  Where
note, that the same word in the Hebrew, according to the different
pointing of it, signifies both a bed and a rod.  And to verify both
these sentences, we must understand that Jacob leaning on Joseph's rod
adored, turning towards the head of his bed:  which adoration, inasmuch
as it was referred to God, was an absolute and sovereign worship:  but
inasmuch as it was referred to the rod of Joseph, as a figure of the
sceptre, that is, of the royal dignity of Christ, was only an inferior
and relative honour.
Genesis Chapter 48
Joseph visiteth his father in his sickness, who adopteth his two sons
Manasses and Ephraim, and blesseth them, preferring the younger before
48:1. After these things, it was told Joseph that his father was sick;
and he set out to go to him, taking his two sons Manasses and Ephraim.
48:2. And it was told the old man:  Behold thy son Joseph cometh to
thee.  And being strengthened, he sat on his bed.
48:3. And when Joseph was come in to him, he said:  God almighty
appeared to me at Luza, which is in the land of Chanaan, and he blessed
48:4. And said:  I will cause thee to increase and multiply, and I will
make of thee a multitude of people:  and I will give this land to thee,
and to thy seed after thee for an everlasting possession.
48:5. So thy two sons, who were born to thee in the land of Egypt
before I came hither to thee, shall be mine:  Ephraim and Manasses shall
be reputed to me as Ruben and Simeon.
48:6. But the rest whom thou shalt have after them, shall be thine, and
shall be called by the name of their brethren in their possessions.
48:7. For, when I came out of Mesopotamia, Rachel died from me in the
land of Chanaan in the very journey, and it was spring time:  and I was
going to Ephrata, and I buried her near the way of Ephrata, which by
another name is called Bethlehem.
48:8. Then seeing his sons, he said to him:  Who are these?
48:9. He answered:  They are my sons, whom God hath given me in this
place.  And he said:  Bring them to me, that I may bless them.
48:10. For Israel's eyes were dim by reason of his great age, and he
could not see clearly.  And when they were brought to him, he kissed and
embraced them,
48:11. And said to his son:  I am not deprived of seeing thee; moreover
God hath shewn me thy seed.
48:12. And when Joseph had taken them from his father's lap, he bowed
down with his face to the ground.
48:13. And he set Ephraim on his right hand, that is, towards the left
hand of Israel; but Manasses on his left hand, to wit, towards his
father's right hand, and brought them near to him.
48:14. But he, stretching forth his right hand, put it upon the head of
Ephraim, the younger brother; and the left upon the head of Manasses,
who was the elder, changing his hands.
48:15. And Jacob blessed the sons of Joseph, and said:  God, in whose
sight my fathers Abraham and Isaac walked, God that feedeth me from my
youth until this day:
48:16. The angel that delivereth me from all evils, bless these boys:
and let my name be called upon them, and the names of my fathers
Abraham and Isaac; and may they grow into a multitude upon the earth.
48:17. And Joseph seeing that his father had put his right hand upon
the head of Ephraim, was much displeased:  and taking his father's hand,
he tried to lift it from Ephraim's head, and to remove it to the head
of Manasses.
48:18. And he said to his father:  It should not be so, my father; for
this is the firstborn, put thy right hand upon his head.
48:19. But he refusing, said:  I know, my son, I know:  and this also
shall become a people, and shall be multiplied; but his younger brother
shall be greater than he; and his seed shall grow into nations.
48:20. And he blessed them at that time, saying:  In thee shall Israel
be blessed, and it shall be said:  God do to thee as to Ephraim, and as
to Manasses.  And he set Ephraim before Manasses.
48:21. And he said to Joseph, his son:  Behold I die, and God will be
with you, and will bring you back into the land of your fathers.
48:22. I give thee a portion above thy brethren, which I took out of
the hand of the Amorrhite with my sword and bow.
Genesis Chapter 49
Jacob's prophetical blessings of his twelve sons:  his death.
49:1. And Jacob called his sons, and said to them:  Gather yourselves
together, that I may tell you the things that shall befall you in the
49:2. Gather yourselves together, and hear, O ye sons of Jacob, hearken
to Israel, your father:
49:3. Ruben, my firstborn, thou art my strength, and the beginning of
my sorrow; excelling in gifts, greater in command.
My strength, etc. . .He calls him his strength, as being born whilst his
father was in his full strength and vigour:  he calls him the beginning
of his sorrow, because cares and sorrows usually come on with the birth
of children.  Excelling in gifts, etc., because the firstborn had a
title to a double portion, and to have the command over his brethren,
which Ruben forfeited by his sin; being poured out as water, that is,
spilt and lost.
49:4. Thou art poured out as water, grow thou not; because thou wentest
up to thy father's bed, and didst defile his couch.
Grow thou not. . .This was not meant by way of a curse or imprecation;
but by way of a prophecy foretelling that the tribe of Ruben should not
inherit the pre-eminences usually annexed to the first birthright,
viz., the double portion, the being prince or lord over the other
brethren, and the priesthood:  of which the double portion was given to
Joseph, the princely office to Juda, and the priesthood to Levi.
49:5. Simeon and Levi brethren:  vessels of iniquity waging war.
49:6. Let not my soul go into their counsel, nor my glory be in their
assembly:  because in their fury they slew a man, and in their self-will
they undermined a wall.
Slew a man,. . .viz., Sichem the son of Hemor, with all his people, Gen.
34.; mystically and prophetically it alludes to Christ, whom their
posterity, viz., the priests and the scribes, put to death.
49:7. Cursed be their fury, because it was stubborn:  and their wrath,
because it was cruel:  I will divide them in Jacob, and will scatter
them in Israel.
49:8. Juda, thee shall thy brethren praise:  thy hand shall be on the
necks of thy enemies; the sons of thy father shall bow down to thee.
49:9. Juda is a lion's whelp:  to the prey, my son, thou art gone up:
resting thou hast couched as a lion, and as a lioness, who shall rouse
A lion's whelp, etc. . .This blessing of Juda foretelleth the strength
of his tribe, the fertility of his inheritance; and principally that
the sceptre and legislative power should not be utterly taken away from
his race till about the time of the coming of Christ:  as in effect it
never was:  which is a demonstration against the modern Jews, that the
Messiah is long since come; for the sceptre has long since been utterly
taken away from Juda.
49:10. The sceptre shall not be taken away from Juda, nor a ruler from
his thigh, till he come that is to be sent, and he shall be the
expectation of nations.
49:11. Tying his foal to the vineyard, and his ass, O my son, to the
vine.  He shall wash his robe in wine, and his garment in the blood of
49:12. His eyes are more beautiful than wine, and his teeth whiter than
49:13. Zabulon shall dwell on the seashore, and in the road of ships,
reaching as far as Sidon.
49:14. Issachar shall be a strong ass, lying down between the borders.
49:15. He saw rest that it was good:  and the land that it was
excellent:  and he bowed his shoulder to carry, and became a servant
under tribute.
49:16. Dan shall judge his people like another tribe in Israel.
Dan shall judge, etc. . .This was verified in Samson, who was of the
tribe of Dan, and began to deliver Israel.  Judges 13.5.  But as this
deliverance was but temporal and very imperfect, the holy patriarch
(ver. 18) aspires after another kind of deliverer, saying:  I will look
for thy salvation, O Lord.
49:17. Let Dan be a snake in the way, a serpent in the path, that
biteth the horse's heels, that his rider may fall backward.
49:18. I will look for thy salvation, O Lord.
49:19. Gad, being girded, shall fight before him:  and he himself shall
be girded backward.
Gad being girded, etc. . .It seems to allude to the tribe of Gad; when
after they had received for their lot the land of Galaad, they marched
in arms before the rest of the Israelites, to the conquest of the land
of Chanaan:  from whence they afterwards returned loaded with spoils.
See Jos. 4. and 12.
49:20. Aser, his bread shall be fat, and he shall yield dainties to
49:21. Nephthali, a hart let loose, and giving words of beauty.
49:22. Joseph is a growing son, a growing son and comely to behold:  the
daughters run to and fro upon the wall;
Run to and fro, etc. . .To behold his beauty; whilst his envious
brethren turned their darts against him, etc.
49:23. But they that held darts, provoked him, and quarrelled with him,
and envied him.
49:24. His bow rested upon the strong, and the bands of his arms and
his hands were loosed, by the hands of the mighty one of Jacob:  thence
he came forth a pastor, the stone of Israel.
His bow rested upon the strong, etc. . .That is, upon God, who was his
strength:  who also loosed his bands, and brought him out of prison to
be the pastor, that is, the feeder and ruler of Egypt, and the stone,
that is, the rock and support of Israel.
49:25. The God of thy father shall be thy helper, and the Almighty
shall bless thee with the blessings of heaven above, with the blessings
of the deep that lieth beneath, with the blessings of the breasts and
of the womb.
49:26. The blessings of thy father are strengthened with the blessings
of his fathers:  until the desire of the everlasting hills should come:
may they be upon the head of Joseph, and upon the crown of the Nazarite
among his brethren.
The blessings of thy father, etc. . .That is, thy father's blessings are
made more prevalent and effectual in thy regard, by the additional
strength they receive from his inheriting the blessings of his
progenitors Abraham and Isaac.  The desire of the everlasting hills,
etc. . .These blessings all looked forward towards Christ, called the
desire of the everlasting hills, as being longed for, as it were, by
the whole creation.  Mystically, the patriarchs and prophets are called
the everlasting hills, by reason of the eminence of their wisdom and
holiness.  The Nazarite. . .This word signifies one separated; and agrees
to Joseph, as being separated from, and more eminent than, his
brethren.  As the ancient Nazarites were so called from their being set
aside for God, and vowed to him.
49:27. Benjamin a ravenous wolf, in the morning shall eat the prey, and
in the evening shall divide the spoil.
49:28. All these are the twelve tribes of Israel:  these things their
father spoke to them, and he blessed every one with their proper
49:29. And he charged them, saying:  I am now going to be gathered to my
people:  bury me with my fathers in the double cave, which is in the
field of Ephron the Hethite,
To be gathered to my people. . .That is, I am going to die, and so to
follow my ancestors that are gone before me, and to join their company
in another world.
49:30. Over against Mambre, in the land of Chanaan, which Abraham
bought together with the field, of Ephron the Hethite, for a possession
49:31. There they buried him, and Sara his wife:  there was Isaac buried
with Rebecca, his wife:  there also Lia doth lie buried.
49:32. And when he had ended the commandments, wherewith he instructed
his sons, he drew up his feet upon the bed, and died:  and he was
gathered to his people.
Genesis Chapter 50
The mourning for Jacob, and his interment.  Joseph's kindness towards
his brethren.  His death.
50:1. And when Joseph saw this, he fell upon his father's face, weeping
and kissing him.
50:2. And he commanded his servants, the physicians, to embalm his
50:3. And while they were fulfilling his commands, there passed forty
days:  for this was the manner with bodies that were embalmed, and Egypt
mourned for him seventy days.
50:4. And the time of the mourning being expired, Joseph spoke to the
family of Pharao:  If I have found favour in your sight, speak in the
ears of Pharao:
50:5. For my father made me swear to him, saying:  Behold I die; thou
shalt bury me in my sepulchre which I have digged for myself in the
land of Chanaan.  So I will go up and bury my father, and return.
50:6. And Pharao said to him:  Go up and bury thy father according as he
made thee swear.
50:7. So he went up, and there went with him all the ancients of
Pharao's house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt.
50:8. And the house of Joseph with his brethren, except their children,
and their flocks and herds, which they left in the land of Gessen.
50:9. He had also in his train chariots and horsemen:  and it was a
great company.
50:10. And they came to the threshing floor of Atad, which is situated
beyond the Jordan:  where celebrating the exequies with a great and
vehement lamentation, they spent full seven days.
50:11. And when the inhabitants of Chanaan saw this, they said:  This is
a great mourning to the Egyptians.  And therefore the name of that place
was called, The mourning of Egypt.
50:12. So the sons of Jacob did as he had commanded them.
50:13. And carrying him into the land of Chanaan, they buried him in
the double cave, which Abraham had bought together with the field for a
possession of a burying place, of Ehpron, the Hethite, over against
50:14. And Joseph returned into Egypt with his brethren, and all that
were in his company, after he had buried his father.
50:15. Now he being dead, his brethren were afraid, and talked one with
another:  Lest perhaps he should remember the wrong he suffered, and
requite us all the evil that we did to him.
50:16. And they sent a message to him, saying:  Thy father commanded us
before he died,
50:17. That we should say thus much to thee from him:  I beseech thee to
forget the wickedness of thy brethren, and the sin and malice they
practised against thee:  we also pray thee, to forgive the servants of
the God of thy father this wickedness.  And when Joseph heard this, he
50:18. And his brethren came to him; and worshipping prostrate on the
ground, they said:  We are thy servants.
50:19. And he answered them:  Fear not:  can we resist the will of God?
50:20. You thought evil against me:  but God turned it into good, that
he might exalt me, as at present you see, and might save many people.
50:21. Fear not:  I will feed you and your children.  And he comforted
them, and spoke gently and mildly.
50:22. And he dwelt in Egypt with all his father's house; and lived a
hundred and ten years.  And he saw the children of Ephraim to the third
generation.  The children also of Machir, the sons of Manasses, were
born on Joseph's knees.
50:23. After which he told his brethren:  God will visit you after my
death, and will make you go up out of this land, to the land which he
swore to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
50:24. And he made them swear to him, saying:  God will visit you, carry
my bones with you out of this place:
50:25. And he died, being a hundred and ten years old.  And being
embalmed, he was laid in a coffin in Egypt.
THE BOOK OF EXODUS
The Second Book of Moses is called EXODUS, from the Greek word EXODOS,
which signifies going out:  because it contains the history of the going
out of the children of Israel out of Egypt.  The Hebrews, from the words
with which it begins, call it VEELLE SEMOTH:  These are the names.  It
contains transactions for 145 years; that is, from the death of Joseph
to the erecting of the tabernacle.
Exodus Chapter 1
The Israelites are multiplied in Egypt.  They are oppressed by a new
king, who commandeth all their male children to be killed.
1:1. These are the names of the children of Israel, that went into
Egypt with Jacob:  they went in every man with his household:
1:2. Ruben, Simeon, Levi, Juda,
1:3. Issachar, Zabulon, and Benjamin,
1:4. Dan, and Nephthali, Gad and Aser.
1:5. And all the souls that came out of Jacob's thigh, were seventy:
but Joseph was in Egypt.
1:6. After he was dead, and all his brethren, and all that generation,
1:7. The children of Israel increased, and sprung up into multitudes,
and growing exceedingly strong they filled the land.
1:8. In the mean time there arose a new king over Egypt, that knew not
1:9. And he said to his people:  Behold the people of the children of
Israel are numerous and stronger than we.
1:10. Come let us wisely oppress them, lest they multiply:  and if any
war shall rise against us, join with our enemies, and having overcome
us, depart out of the land.
1:11. Therefore he set over them masters of the works, to afflict them
with burdens:  and they built for Pharao cities of tabernacles, Phithom,
and Ramesses.
Of tabernacles. . .Or, of storehouses.
1:12. But the more they oppressed them, the more they were multiplied
and increased.
1:13. And the Egyptians hated the children of Israel, and afflicted
them and mocked them:
1:14. And they made their life bitter with hard works in clay and
brick, and with all manner of service, wherewith they were overcharged
in the works of the earth.
1:15. And the king of Egypt spoke to the midwives of the Hebrews:  of
whom one was called Sephora, the other Phua,
1:16. Commanding them:  When you shall do the office of midwives to the
Hebrew women, and the time of delivery is come:  if it be a man child,
kill it:  if a woman, keep it alive.
1:17. But the midwives feared God, and did not do as the king of Egypt
had commanded, but saved the men children.
1:18:  And the king called for them and said:  What is it that you meant
to do, that you would save the men children?
1:19. They answered:  The Hebrew women are not as the Egyptian women:
for they themselves are skilful in the office of a midwife; and they
are delivered before we come to them.
1:20. Therefore God dealt well with the midwives:  and the people
multiplied and grew exceedingly strong.
1:21. And because the midwives feared God, he built them houses.
Because the midwives feared God, etc. . .The midwives were rewarded, not
for their lie, which was a venial sin; but for their fear of God, and
their humanity:  but this reward was only temporal, in building them
houses, that is, in establishing and enriching their families.
1:22. Pharao therefore charged all his people, saying:  Whatsoever shall
be born of the male sex, ye shall cast into the river:  whatsoever of
the female, ye shall save alive.
Exodus Chapter 2
Moses is born and exposed on the bank of the river; where he is taken
up by the daughter of Pharao, and adopted for her son.  He killeth an
Egyptian, and fleeth into Madian; where he marrieth a wife.
2:1. After this there went a man of the house of Levi; and took a wife
of his own kindred.
2:2. And she conceived, and bore a son:  and seeing him a goodly child,
hid him three months.
2:3. And when she could hide him no longer, she took a basket made of
bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and pitch:  and put the little babe
therein, and laid him in the sedges by the river's brink,
2:4. His sister standing afar off, and taking notice what would be
2:5. And behold the daughter of Pharao came down to wash herself in the
river:  and her maids walked by the river's brink.  And when she saw the
basket in the sedges she sent one of her maids for it:  and when it was
2:6. She opened it, and seeing within it an infant crying, having
compassion on it, she said:  This is one of the babes of the Hebrews.
2:7. And the child's sister said to her:  Shall I go, and call to thee a
Hebrew woman, to nurse the babe?
2:8. She answered:  Go.  The maid went and called her mother.
2:9. And Pharao's daughter said to her:  Take this child, and nurse him
for me:  I will give thee thy wages.  The woman took and nursed the
child:  and when he was grown up, she delivered him to Pharao's
2:10. And she adopted him for a son, and called him Moses, saying:
Because I took him out of the water.
Moses. . .Or Moyses, in the Egyptian tongue, signifies one taken or
saved out of the water.
2:11. In those days, after Moses was grown up, he went out to his
brethren:  and saw their affliction, and an Egyptian striking one of the
Hebrews, his brethren.
2:12. And when he had looked about this way and that way, and saw no
one there, he slew the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.
He slew the Egyptian. . .This he did by a particular inspiration of God;
as a prelude to his delivering the people from their oppression and
bondage.  He thought, says St. Stephen, Acts 7.25, that his brethren
understood that God by his hand would save them.  But such particular
and extraordinary examples are not to be imitated.
2:13. And going out the next day, he saw two Hebrews quarrelling:  and
he said to him that did the wrong:  Why strikest thou thy neighbour?
2:14. But he answered:  Who hath appointed thee prince and judge over
us?  wilt thou kill me, as thou didst yesterday kill the Egyptian?  Moses
feared, and said:  How is this come to be known?
2:15. And Pharao heard of this word, and sought to kill Moses:  but he
fled from his sight, and abode in the land of Madian, and he sat down
Madian. . .A city and country of Arabia, which took its name from Madian
the son of Abraham, by Cetura, and was peopled by his posterity.
2:16. And the priest of Madian had seven daughters, who came to draw
water:  and when the troughs were filled, desired to water their
father's flocks.
2:17. And the shepherds came and drove them away:  and Moses arose, and
defending the maids, watered their sheep.
2:18:  And when they returned to Raguel their father, he said to them:
Why are ye come sooner than usual?
Raguel. . .He had two names, being also called Jethro, as appears from
the first verse of the following chapter.
2:19. They answered:  A man of Egypt delivered us from the hands of the
shepherds:  and he drew water also with us, and gave the sheep to drink.
2:20. But he said:  Where is he?  why have you let the man go?  call him
that he may eat bread.
2:21. And Moses swore that he would dwell with him.  And he took Sephora
his daughter to wife:
2:22. And she bore him a son, whom he called Gersam, saying:  I have
been a stranger in a foreign country.  And she bore another, whom he
called Eliezer, saying:  For the God of my father, my helper, hath
delivered me out of the hand of Pharao.
Gersam. . .Or Gershom.  This name signifies a stranger there:  as Eliezer
signifies the help of God.
2:23. Now after a long time the king of Egypt died:  and the children of
Israel groaning, cried out because of the works:  and their cry went up
unto God from the works.
2:24. And he heard their groaning, and remembered the covenant which he
made with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
2:25. And the Lord looked upon the children of Israel, and he knew
Knew them. . .That is, he had respect to them, he cast a merciful eye
Exodus Chapter 3
God appeareth to Moses in a bush, and sendeth him to deliver Israel.
3:1. Now Moses fed the sheep of Jethro, his father in law, the priest
of Madian:  and he drove the flock to the inner parts of the desert, and
came to the mountain of God, Horeb.
3:2. And the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst
of a bush:  and he saw that the bush was on fire, and was not burnt.
The Lord appeared. . .That is, an angel representing God, and speaking
in his name.
3:3. And Moses said:  I will go, and see this great sight, why the bush
is not burnt.
3:4. And when the Lord saw that he went forward to see, he called to
him out of the midst of the bush.  and said:  Moses, Moses.  And he
answered:  Here I am.
3:5. And he said:  Come not nigh hither, put off the shoes from thy
feet; for the place, whereon thou standest, is holy ground.
3:6. And he said:  I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the
God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.  Moses hid his face:  for he durst
not look at God.
3:7. And the Lord said to him:  I have seen the affliction of my people
in Egypt, and I have heard their cry because of the rigour of them that
are over the works;
3:8. And knowing their sorrow, I am come down to deliver them out of
the hands of the Egyptians, and to bring them out of that land into a
good and spacious land, into a land that floweth with milk and honey,
to the places of the Chanaanite, and Hethite, and Amorrhite, and
Pherezite, and Hevite, and Jebusite.
3:9. For the cry of the children of Israel is come unto me:  and I have
seen their affliction, wherewith they are oppressed by the Egyptians.
3:10. But come, and I will send thee to Pharao, that thou mayst bring
forth my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.
3:11. And Moses said to God:  Who am I that I should go to Pharao, and
should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt?
3:12. And he said to him:  I will be with thee; and this thou shalt have
for a sign that I have sent thee:  When thou shalt have brought my
people out of Egypt, thou shalt offer sacrifice to God upon this
3:13. Moses said to God:  Lo, I shall go to the children of Israel, and
say to them:  The God of your fathers hath sent me to you.  If they shall
say to me:  What is his name?  What shall I say to them?
3:14. God said to Moses:  I AM WHO AM.  He said:  Thus shalt thou say to
the children of Israel:  HE WHO IS, hath sent me to you.
I am who am. . .That is, I am being itself, eternal, self-existent,
independent, infinite; without beginning, end, or change; and the
source of all other beings.
3:15. And God said again to Moses:  Thus shalt thou say to the children
of Israel:  The Lord God of your fathers the God of Abraham, the God of
Isaac, and the God of Jacob hath sent me to you; this is my name for
ever, and this is my memorial unto all generations.
3:16. Go and gather together the ancients of Israel, and thou shalt say
to them:  The Lord God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of
Isaac, and the God of Jacob, hath appeared to me, saying:  Visiting I
have visited you; and I have seen all that hath befallen you in Egypt.
3:17. And I have said the word to bring you forth out of the affliction
of Egypt, into the land of the Chanaanite, and Hethite, and Amorrhite,
and Pherezite, and Hevite, and Jebusite, to a land that floweth with
milk and honey.
3:18:  And they shall hear thy voice; and thou shalt go in, thou and the
ancients of Israel, to the king of Egypt, and thou shalt say to him:
The Lord God of the Hebrews hath called us; we will go three days'
journey into the wilderness, to sacrifice unto the Lord our God.
3:19. But I know that the king of Egypt will not let you go, but by a
mighty hand.
3:20. For I will stretch forth my hand, and will strike Egypt with all
my wonders which I will do in the midst of them:  after these he will
3:21. And I will give favour to this people, in the sight of the
Egyptians:  and when you go forth, you shall not depart empty:
3:22. But every woman shall ask of her neighbour, and of her that is in
her house, vessels of silver and of gold, and raiment:  and you shall
put them on your sons and daughters, and shall spoil Egypt.
Shall spoil, etc. . .That is, you shall strip, and take away the goods
of the Egyptians.  This was not authorizing theft or injustice; but was
a just disposal made by Him, who is the great lord and master of all
things, in order to pay the children of Israel some part of what was
due to them from the Egyptians for their labours.
Exodus Chapter 4
Moses is empowered to confirm his mission with miracles:  his brother
Aaron is appointed to assist him.
4:1. Moses answered, and said:  They will not believe me, nor hear my
voice, but they will say:  The Lord hath not appeared to thee.
4:2. Then he said to him:  What is that thou holdest in thy hand?  He
answered:  A rod.
4:3. And the Lord said:  Cast it down upon the ground.  He cast it down,
and it was turned into a serpent, so that Moses fled from it.
4:4. And the Lord said:  Put out thy hand, and take it by the tail.  He
put forth his hand, and took hold of it, and it was turned into a rod.
4:5. That they may believe, saith he, that the Lord God of their
fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob,
hath appeared to thee.
4:6. And the Lord said again:  Put thy hand into thy bosom.  And when he
had put it into his bosom, he brought it forth leprous as snow.
4:7. And he said:  Put back thy hand into thy bosom.  He put it back, and
brought it out again, and it was like the other flesh.
4:8. If they will not believe thee, saith he, nor hear the voice of the
former sign, they will believe the word of the latter sign.
4:9. But if they will not even believe these two signs, nor hear thy
voice:  take of the river water, and pour it out upon the dry land, and
whatsoever thou drawest out of the river, shall be turned into blood.
4:10. Moses said:  I beseech thee, Lord, I am not eloquent from
yesterday and the day before; and since thou hast spoken to thy
servant, I have more impediment and slowness of tongue.
4:11. The Lord said to him:  Who made man's mouth?  or who made the dumb
and the deaf, the seeing and the blind?  did not I?
4:12. Go therefore, and I will be in thy mouth; and I will teach thee
what thou shalt speak.
4:13. But he said:  I beseech thee, Lord, send whom thou wilt send.
4:14. The Lord being angry at Moses, said:  Aaron the Levite is thy
brother, I know that he is eloquent:  behold he cometh forth to meet
thee, and seeing thee, shall be glad at heart.
4:15. Speak to him, and put my words in his mouth:  and I will be in thy
mouth, and in his month, and will shew you what you must do.
4:16. He shall speak in thy stead to the people, and shall be thy
mouth:  but thou shalt be to him in those things that pertain to God.
4:17. And take this rod in thy hand.  wherewith thou shalt do the signs.
4:18:  Moses went his way, and returned to Jethro his father in law, and
said to him; I will go and return to my brethren into Egypt, that I may
see if they be yet alive.  And Jethro said to him:  Go in peace.
4:19. And the Lord said to Moses, in Madian:  Go, and return into Egypt;
for they are all dead that sought thy life.
4:20. Moses therefore took his wife, and his sons, and set them upon an
ass; and returned into Egypt, carrying the rod of God in his hand.
4:21. And the Lord said to him as he was returning into Egypt:  See that
thou do all the wonders before Pharao, which I have put in thy hand:  I
shall harden his heart, and he will not let the people go.
I shall harden, etc. . .Not by being the efficient cause of his sin; but
by withdrawing from him, for his just punishment, the dew of grace that
might have softened his heart; and so suffering him to grow harder and
4:22. And thou shalt say to him:  Thus saith the Lord:  Israel is my son,
my firstborn.
4:23. I have said to thee:  Let my son go, that he may serve me, and
thou wouldst not let him go:  behold I will kill thy son, thy firstborn.
4:24. And when he was in his journey, in the inn, the Lord met him, and
would have killed him.
The Lord met him, and would have killed him. . .This was an angel
representing the Lord, who treated Moses in this manner, for having
neglected the circumcision of his younger son; which his wife
understanding, circumcised her child upon the spot, upon which the
angel let Moses go.
4:25. Immediately Sephora took a very sharp stone, and circumcised the
foreskin of her son, and touched his feet, and said:  A bloody spouse
art thou to me.
4:26. And he let him go after she had said:  A bloody spouse art thou to
me, because of the circumcision.
4:27. And the Lord said to Aaron:  Go into the desert to meet Moses.  And
he went forth to meet him in the mountain of God, and kissed him.
4:28. And Moses told Aaron all the words of the Lord, by which he had
sent him, and the signs that he had commanded.
4:29. And they came together, and they assembled all the ancients of
the children of Israel.
4:30. And Aaron spoke all the words which the Lord had said to Moses:
and he wrought the signs before the people.
4:31. And the people believed.  And they heard that the Lord had visited
the children of Israel, and that he had looked upon their affliction:
and falling down they adored.
Exodus Chapter 5
Pharao refuseth to let the people go.  They are more oppressed.
5:1. After these things, Moses and Aaron went in, and said to Pharao:
Thus saith the Lord God of Israel:  Let my people go, that they may
sacrifice to me in the desert.
5:2. But he answered:  Who is the Lord, that I should hear his voice,
and let Israel go?  I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go.
5:3. And they said:  The God of the Hebrews hath called us, to go three
days' journey into the wilderness, and to sacrifice to the Lord our
God; lest a pestilence or the sword fall upon us.
5:4. The king of Egypt said to them:  Why do you Moses and Aaron draw
off the people from their works?  Get you gone to your burdens.
5:5. And Pharao said:  The people of the land are numerous; you see that
the multitude is increased; how much more if you give them rest from
their works?
5:6. Therefore he commanded the same day the overseers of the works,
and the task-masters of the people, saying:
5:7. You shall give straw no more to the people to make brick, as
before; but let them go and gather straw.
5:8. And you shall lay upon them the task of bricks, which they did
before; neither shall you diminish any thing thereof, for they are
idle, and therefore they cry.  saying:  Let us go and sacrifice to our
5:9. Let them be oppressed with works, and let them fulfil them; that
they may not regard lying words.
5:10. And the overseers of the works, and the taskmasters, went out and
said to the people:  Thus saith Pharao:  I allow you no straw;
5:11. Go, and gather it where you can find it; neither shall any thing
of your work be diminished.
5:12. And the people was scattered through all the land of Egypt to
gather straw.
5:13. And the overseers of the works pressed them, saying:  Fulfil your
work every day, as before ye were wont to do, when straw was given you.
5:14. And they that were over the works of the children of Israel, were
scourged by Pharao's taskmasters, saying:  Why have you not made up the
task of bricks, both yesterday and to day, as before?
5:15. And the officers of the children of Israel came, and cried out to
Pharao, saying:  Why dealest thou so with thy servants?
5:16. Straw is not given us, and bricks are required of us as before;
behold we, thy servants, are beaten with whips, and thy people is
unjustly dealt withal.
5:17. And he said:  You are idle, and therefore you say:  Let us go and
sacrifice to the Lord.
5:18:  Go therefore and work:  straw shall not be given you, and you
shall deliver the accustomed number of bricks.
5:19. And the officers of the children of Israel saw that they were in
evil case, because it was said to them:  There shall not a whit be
diminished of the bricks for every day.
5:20. And they met Moses and Aaron, who stood over against them as they
came out from Pharao:
5:21. And they said to them:  The Lord see and judge, because you have,
made our savour to stink before Pharao and his servants, and you have
given him a sword, to kill us.
5:22. And Moses returned to the Lord, and said:  Lord, why hast thou
afflicted this people?  wherefore hast thou sent me?
5:23. For since the time that I went in to Pharao to speak in thy name,
he hath afflicted thy people:  and thou hast not delivered them.
Exodus Chapter 6
God reneweth his promise.  The genealogies of Ruben, Simon and Levi,
down to Moses and Aaron.
6;1. And the Lord said to Moses:  Now thou shalt see what I will do to
Pharao:  for by a mighty hand shall he let them go, and with a strong
hand shall he cast them out of his land.
6:2. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:  I am the Lord
6:3. That appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, by the name of
God Almighty:  and my name ADONAI I did not shew them.
My name Adonai. . .The name, which is in the Hebrew text, is that most
proper name of God, which signifieth his eternal, self-existent being,
Ex. 3.14, which the Jews out of reverence never pronounce; but, instead
of it, whenever it occurs in the Bible, they read Adonai, which
signifies the Lord; and, therefore, they put the points or vowels,
which belong to the name Adonai, to the four letters of that other
ineffable name Jod, He, Vau, He.  Hence some moderns have framed the
name Jehovah, unknown to all the ancients, whether Jews or Christians;
for the true pronunciation of the name, which is in the Hebrew text, by
long disuse, is now quite lost.
6:4. And I made a covenant with them, to give them the land of Chanaan,
the land of their pilgrimage wherein they were strangers.
6:5. I have heard the groaning of the children of Israel, wherewith the
Egyptians have oppressed them:  and I have remembered my covenant.
6:6. Therefore say to the children of Israel:  I am the Lord who will
bring you out from the work-prison of the Egyptians, and will deliver
you from bondage:  and redeem you with a high arm, and great judgments.
6:7. And I will take you to myself for my people, I will be your God:
and you shall know that I am the Lord your God, who brought you out
from the work-prison of the Egyptians:
6:8. And brought you into the land, concerning which I lifted up my
hand to give it to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob:  and I will give it you to
possess:  I am the Lord.
6:9. And Moses told all this to the children of Israel:  but they did
not hearken to him, for anguish of spirit, and most painful work.
6:10. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
6:11. Go in, and speak to Pharao king of Egypt, that he let the
children of Israel go out of his land.
6:12. Moses answered before the Lord:  Behold the children of Israel do
not hearken to me:  and how will Pharao hear me, especially as I am of
uncircumcised lips?
Uncircumcised lips. . .So he calls the defect he had in his words, or
6:13. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, and he gave them a charge
unto the children of Israel, and unto Pharao the king of Egypt, that
they should bring forth the children of Israel out of the land of
6:14. These are the heads of their houses by their families.  The sons
of Ruben the firstborn of Israel:  Henoch and Phallu, Hesron and Charmi.
6:15. These are the kindreds of Ruben.  The sons of Simeon, Jamuel and
Jamin, and Ahod, and Jachin, and Soar, and Saul the son of a
Chanaanitess:  these are the families of Simeon.
6:16. And these are the names of the sons of Levi by their kindreds:
Gerson, and Caath, and Merari.  And the years of the life of Levi were a
hundred and thirty-seven.
6:17. The sons of Gerson:  Lobni and Semei, by their kindreds.
6:18:  The sons of Caath:  Amram, and Isaar, and Hebron and Oziel.  And
the years of Caath's life, were a hundred and thirty-three.
6:19. The sons of Merari:  Moholi and Musi.  These are the kindreds of
Levi by their families.
6:20. And Amram took to wife Jochabed his aunt by the father's side:
and she bore him Aaron and Moses.  And the years of Amram's life, were a
hundred and thirty-seven.
6:21. The sons also of Isaar:  Core, and Nepheg, and Zechri.
6:22. The sons also of Oziel:  Mizael, and Elizaphan, and Sethri.
6:23. And Aaron took to wife Elizabeth the daughter of Aminadab, sister
of Nahason, who bore him Nadab, and Abiu, and Eleazar, and Ithamar.
6:24. The sons also of Core:  Aser, and Elcana, and Abiasaph.  These are
the kindreds of the Corites.
6:25. But Eleazar the son of Aaron took a wife of the daughters of
Phutiel:  and she bore him Phinees.  These are the heads of the Levitical
families by their kindreds.
6:26. These are Aaron and Moses, whom the Lord commanded to bring forth
the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt by their companies.
6:27. These are they that speak to Pharao, king of Egypt, in order to
bring out the children of Israel from Egypt:  these are that Moses and
6:28. In the day when the Lord spoke to Moses in the land of Egypt.
6:29. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:  I am the Lord; speak thou to
Pharao, king of Egypt, all that I say to thee.
6:30. And Moses said before the Lord:  Lo I am of uncircumcised lips,
how will Pharao hear me?
Exodus Chapter 7
Moses and Aaron go into Pharao:  they turn the rod into a serpent; and
the waters of Egypt into blood, which was the first plague.  The
magicians do the like, and Pharao's heart is hardened.
7:1. And the Lord said to Moses:  Behold, I have appointed thee the god
of Pharao; and Aaron, thy brother, shall be thy prophet.
The god of Pharao. . .Viz., to be his judge; and to exercise a divine
power, as God's instrument, over him and his people.
7:2. Thou shalt speak to him all that I command thee; and he shall
speak to Pharao, that he let the children of Israel go out of his land.
7:3. But I shall harden his heart, and shall multiply my signs and
wonders in the land of Egypt.
I shall harden, etc. . .not by being the efficient cause of his hardness
of heart, but by permitting it; and by withdrawing grace from him, in
punishment of his malice; which alone was the proper cause of his being
7:4. And he will not hear you:  and I will lay my hand upon Egypt, and
will bring forth my army and my people, the children of Israel, out of
the land of Egypt, by very great judgments.
7:5. And the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, who have
stretched forth my hand upon Egypt, and have brought forth the children
of Israel out of the midst of them.
7:6. And Moses and Aaron did as the Lord had commanded; so did they.
7:7. And Moses was eighty years old, and Aaron eighty-three, when they
spoke to Pharao.
7:8. And the Lord said to Moses and Aaron:
7:9. When Pharao shall say to you, Shew signs; thou shalt say to Aaron:
Take thy rod, and cast it down before Pharao, and it shall be turned
into a serpent.
7:10. So Moses and Aaron went in unto Pharao, and did as the Lord had
commanded.  And Aaron took the rod before Pharao and his servants, and
it was turned into a serpent.
7:11. And Pharao called the wise men and the magicians; and they also
by Egyptian enchantments and certain secrets, did in like manner.
Magicians. . .Jannes, and Mambres, or Jambres, 2 Tim. 3.8.
7:12. And they every one cast down their rods, and they were turned
into serpents:  but Aaron's rod devoured their rods.
7:13. And Pharao's heart was hardened, and he did not hearken to them,
as the Lord had commanded.
7:14. And the Lord said to Moses:  Pharao's heart is hardened, he will
not let the people go.
7:15. Go to him in the morning, behold he will go out to the waters:
and thou shalt stand to meet him on the ' bank of the river:  and thou
shalt take in thy hand the rod that was turned into a serpent.
7:16. And thou shalt say to him:  The Lord God of the Hebrews sent me to
thee, saying:  Let my people go to sacrifice to me in the desert:  and
hitherto thou wouldst not hear.
7:17. Thus therefore saith the Lord:  In this thou shalt know that I am
the Lord:  behold I will strike with the rod, that is in my hand, the
water of the river, and it shall be turned into blood.
7:18:  And the fishes that are in the river, shall die, and the waters
shall be corrupted, and the Egyptians shall be afflicted when they
drink the water of the river.
7:19. The Lord also said to Moses:  Say to Aaron, Take thy rod; and
stretch forth thy hand upon the waters of Egypt, and upon their rivers,
and streams and pools, and all the ponds of waters, that they may be
turned into blood:  and let blood be in all the land of Egypt, both in
vessels of wood and of stone.
7:20. And Moses and Aaron did as the Lord had commanded:  and lifting up
the rod, he struck the water of the river before Pharao and his
servants:  and it was turned into blood.
7:21. And the fishes that were in the river died; and the river
corrupted, and the Egyptians could not drink the water of the river,
and there was blood in all the land of Egypt.
7:22. And the magicians of the Egyptians with their enchantments did in
like manner; and Pharao's heart was hardened, neither did he hear them,
as the Lord had commanded.
7:23. And he turned himself away, and went into his house, neither did
he set his heart to it this time also.
7:24. And all the Egyptians dug round about the river for water to
drink; for they could not drink of the water of the river.
7:25. And seven days were fully ended, after that the Lord struck the
Exodus Chapter 8
The second plague is of frogs:  Pharao promiseth to let the Israelites
go, but breaketh his promise.  The third plague is of sciniphs.  The
fourth is of flies.  Pharao again promiseth to dismiss the people, but
doth it not.
8:1. And the Lord said to Moses:  Go in to Pharao, and thou shalt say to
him:  Thus saith the Lord:  Let my people go to sacrifice to me.
8:2. But if thou wilt not let them go, behold I will strike all thy
coasts with frogs.
8:3. And the river shall bring forth an abundance of frogs; which shall
come up and enter into thy house, and thy bedchamber, and upon thy bed,
and into the houses of thy servants, and to thy people, and into thy
ovens, and into the remains of thy meats:
8:4. And the frogs shall come in to thee, and to thy people, and to all
thy servants.
8:5. And the Lord said to Moses:  Say to Aaron:  Stretch forth thy hand
upon the streams, and upon the rivers and the pools, and bring forth
frogs upon the land of Egypt.
8:6. And Aaron stretched forth his hand upon the waters of Egypt, and
the frogs came up, and covered the land of Egypt.
8:7. And the magicians also, by their enchantments, did in like manner,
and they brought forth frogs upon the land of Egypt.
8:8. But Pharao called Moses and Aaron, and said to them:  Pray ye to
the Lord to take away the frogs from me and from my people; and I will
let the people go to sacrifice to the Lord.
Pray ye to the Lord, etc. . .By this it appears, that though the
magicians, by the help of the devil, could bring frogs, yet they could
not take them away:  God being pleased to abridge in this the power of
Satan.  So we see they could not afterwards produce the lesser insects;
and in this restraint of the power of the devil, were forced to
acknowledge the finger of God.
8:9. And Moses said to Pharao:  Set me a time when I shall pray for
thee, and for thy servants, and for thy people, that the frogs may be
driven away from thee and from thy house, and from thy servants, and
from thy people; and may remain only in the river.
8:10. And he answered:  To morrow.  But he said:  I will do according to
thy word; that thou mayest know that there is none like to the Lord our
8:11. And the frogs shall depart from thee, and from thy house, and
from thy servants, and from thy people; and shall remain only in the
8:12. And Moses and Aaron went forth from Pharao:  and Moses cried to
the Lord for the promise, which he had made to Pharao concerning the
8:13. And the Lord did according to the word of Moses:  and the frogs
died out of the houses, and out of the villages, and out of the fields:
8:14. And they gathered them together into immense heaps, and the land
was corrupted.
8:15. And Pharao seeing that rest was given, hardened his own heart,
and did not hear them, as the Lord had commanded.
Pharao hardened his own heart. . .By this we see that Pharao was himself
the efficient cause of his heart being hardened, and not God.--See the
same repeated in ver. 32.  Pharao hardened his heart at this time also:
likewise chap. 9.7, 35, and chap. 13.15.
8:16. And the Lord said to Moses:  Say to Aaron:  Stretch forth thy rod,
and strike the dust of the earth; and may there be sciniphs in all the
land of Egypt.
Sciniphs. . .Or Cinifs, Hebrew Chinnim, small flying insects, very
troublesome both to men and beast.
8:17. And they did so.  And Aaron stretched forth his hand, holding the
rod; and he struck the dust of the earth, and there came sciniphs on
men and on beasts:  all the dust of the earth was turned into sciniphs
through all the land of Egypt.
8:18:  And the magicians with their enchantments practised in like
manner, to bring forth sciniphs, and they could not:  and there were
sciniphs as well on men as on beasts.
8:19. And the magicians said to Pharao:  This is the finger of God.  And
Pharao's heart was hardened, and he hearkened not unto them, as the
Lord had commanded.
8:20. The Lord also said to Moses:  Arise early, and stand before
Pharao; for he will go forth to the waters:  and thou shalt say to him:
Thus saith the Lord:  Let my people go to sacrifice to me.
8:21. But if thou wilt not let them go, behold I will send in upon
thee, and upon thy servants, and upon thy houses, all kind of flies:
and the houses of the Egyptians shall be filled with flies of divers
kinds, and the whole land wherein they shall be.
8:22. And I will make the land of Gessen wonderful in that day, so that
flies shall not be there:  and thou shalt know that I am the Lord in the
midst of the earth.
8:23. And I will put a division between my people and thy people:  to
morrow shall this sign be.
8:24. And the Lord did so.  And there came a very grievous swarm of
flies into the houses of Pharao and of his servants, and into all the
land of Egypt:  and the land was corrupted by this kind of flies.
8:25. And Pharao called Moses and Aaron, and said to them:  Go and
sacrifice to your God in this land.
8:26. And Moses said:  It cannot be so:  for we shall sacrifice the
abominations of the Egyptians to the Lord our God:  now if we kill those
things which the Egyptians worship, in their presence, they will stone
The abominations, etc. . .That is, the things they worship for Gods:
oxen, rams, etc.  It is the usual style of the scriptures to call all
idols and false gods, abominations, to signify how much the people of
God ought to detest and abhor them.
8:27. We will go three days' journey into the wilderness; and we will
sacrifice to the Lord our God, as he hath commanded us.
8:28. And Pharao said:  I will let you go to sacrifice to the Lord your
God in the wilderness, but go no farther:  pray for me.
8:29. And Moses said:  I will go out from thee, and will pray to the
Lord:  and the flies shall depart from Pharao, and from his servants,
and from his people to morrow:  but do not deceive any more, in not
letting the people go to sacrifice to the Lord.
8:30. So Moses went out from Pharao, and prayed to the Lord.
8:31. And he did according to his word:  and he took away the flies from
Pharao, and from his servants, and from his people:  there was not left
so much as one.
8:32. And Pharao's heart was hardened, so that neither this time would
he let the people go.
Exodus Chapter 9
The fifth plague is a murrain among the cattle.  The sixth, of boils in
men and beasts.  The seventh, of hail.  Pharao promiseth again to let the
people go, and breaketh his word.
9:1. And the Lord said to Moses:  Go in to Pharao, and speak to him:
Thus saith the Lord God of the Hebrews:  Let my people go to sacrifice
9:2. But if thou refuse, and withhold them still:
9:3. Behold my hand shall be upon thy fields; and a very grievous
murrain upon thy horses, and asses, and camels, and oxen, and sheep.
9:4. And the Lord will make a wonderful difference between the
possessions of Israel and the possessions of the Egyptians, that
nothing at all shall die of those things that belong to the children of
9:5. And the Lord appointed a time, saying:  To morrow will the Lord do
this thing in the land.
9:6. The Lord therefore did this thing the next day:  and all the beasts
of the Egyptians died, but of the beasts of the children of Israel
there died not one.
All the beasts. . .That is, many of all kinds.
9:7. And Pharao sent to see; and there was not any thing dead of that
which Israel possessed.  And Pharao's heart was hardened, and he did not
let the people go.
9:8. And the Lord said to Moses and Aaron:  Take to you handfuls of
ashes out of the chimney, and let Moses sprinkle it in the air in the
presence of Pharao.
9:9. And be there dust upon all the land of Egypt:  for there shall be
boils and swelling blains both in men and beasts, in the whole land of
9:10. And they took ashes out of the chimney, and stood before Pharao,
and Moses sprinkled it in the air; and there came boils with swelling
blains in men and beasts.
9:11. Neither could the magicians stand before Moses, for the boils
that were upon them, and in all the land of Egypt.
9:12. And the Lord hardened Pharao's heart, and he hearkened not unto
them, as the Lord had spoken to Moses.
Hardened, etc. . .See the annotations above, chap. 4.21, chap. 7.3, and
9:13. And the Lord said to Moses:  Arise in the morning, and stand
before Pharao, and thou shalt say to him:  Thus saith the Lord, the God
of the Hebrews:  Let my people go to sacrifice to me.
9:14. For I will at this time send all my plagues upon thy heart, and
upon thy servants, and upon thy people; that thou mayst know that there
is none like me in all the earth.
9:15. For now I will stretch out my hand to strike thee, and thy
people, with pestilence, and thou shalt perish from the earth.
9:16. And therefore have I raised thee, that I may shew my power in
thee, and my name may be spoken of throughout all the earth.
9:17. Dost thou yet hold back my people; and wilt thou not let them go?
9:18:  Behold I will cause it to rain to morrow at this same hour, an
exceeding great hail; such as hath not been in Egypt from the day that
it was founded, until this present time.
9:19. Send therefore now presently, and gather together thy cattle, and
all that thou hast in the field; for men and beasts, and all things
that shall be found abroad, and not gathered together out of the fields
which the hail shall fall upon, shall die.
9:20. He that feared the word of the Lord among Pharao's servants, made
his servants and his cattle flee into houses:
9:21. But he that regarded not the word of the Lord, left his servants,
and his cattle in the fields.
9:22. And the Lord said to Moses:  Stretch forth thy hand towards
heaven, that there may be hail in the whole land of Egypt upon men, and
upon beasts, and upon every herb of the field in the land of Egypt.
9:23. And Moses stretched forth his rod towards heaven, and the Lord
sent thunder and hail, and lightnings running along the ground:  and the
Lord rained hail upon the land of Egypt.
9:24. And the hail and fire mixt with it drove on together:  and it was
of so great bigness, as never before was seen in the whole land of
Egypt since that nation was founded.
9:25. And the hail destroyed through all the land of Egypt all things
that were in the fields, both man and beast:  and the hail smote every
herb of the field, and it broke every tree of the country.
9:26. Only in the land of Gessen, where the children of Israel were,
the hail fell not.
9:27. And Pharao sent and called Moses and Aaron, saying to them:  I
have sinned this time also, the Lord is just:  I and my people, are
9:28. Pray ye to the Lord that the thunderings of God and the hail may
cease:  that I may let you go, and that ye may stay here no longer.
9:29. Moses said:  As soon as I am gone out of the city, I will stretch
forth my hands to the Lord, and the thunders shall cease, and the hail
shall be no more:  that thou mayst know that the earth is the Lord's:
9:30. But I know that neither thou, nor thy servants do yet fear the
9:31. The flax therefore, and the barley were hurt, because the barley
was green, and the flax was now bolled;
9:32. But the wheat, and other winter corn were not hurt, because they
were lateward.
9:33. And when Moses was gone from Pharao out of the city, he stretched
forth his hands to the Lord:  and the thunders and the hail ceased,
neither did there drop any more rain upon the earth.
9:34. And Pharao seeing that the rain, and the hail, and the thunders
were ceased, increased his sin:
9:35. And his heart was hardened, and the heart of his servants, and it
was made exceeding hard:  neither did he let the children of Israel go,
as the Lord had commanded by the hand of Moses.
Exodus Chapter 10
The eighth plague of the locusts.  The ninth, of darkness:  Pharao is
still hardened.
10:1. And the Lord said to Moses:  Go in to Pharao; for I have hardened
his heart, and the heart of his servants:  that I may work these my
signs in him,
10:2. And thou mayst tell in the ears of thy sons, and of thy
grandsons, how often I have plagued the Egyptians, and wrought my signs
amongst them:  and you may know that I am the Lord.
10:3. Therefore Moses and Aaron went in to Pharao, and said to him:
Thus saith the Lord God of the Hebrews:  How long refusest thou to
submit to me?  let my people go, to sacrifice to me.
10:4. But if thou resist, and wilt not let them go, behold I will bring
in to-morrow the locusts into thy coasts;
10:5. To cover the face of the earth, that nothing thereof may appear,
but that which the hail hath left may be eaten:  for they shall feed
upon all the trees that spring in the fields.
10:6. And they shall fill thy houses, and the houses of thy servants,
and of all the Egyptians:  such a number as thy fathers have not seen,
nor thy grandfathers, from the time they were first upon the earth,
until this present day.  And he turned himself away, and went forth from
10:7. And Pharao's servants said to him:  How long shall we endure this
scandal?  Iet the men go to sacrifice to the Lord their God.  Dost thou
not see that Egypt is undone?
10:8. And they called back Moses, and Aaron, to Pharao; and he said to
them:  Go, sacrifice to the Lord your God:  who are they that shall go?
10:9. Moses said:  We will go with our young and old, with our sons and
daughters, with our sheep and herds:  for it is the solemnity of the
Lord our God.
10:10. And Pharao answered:  So be the Lord with you, as I shall let you
and your children go:  who can doubt but that you intend some great
10:11. It shall not be so.  but go ye men only, and sacrifice to the
Lord:  for this yourselves also desired.  And immediately they were cast
out from Pharao's presence.
10:12. And the Lord said to Moses:  Stretch forth thy hand upon the land
of Egypt unto the locust, that it come upon it, and devour every herb
that is left after the hail.
10:13. And Moses stretched forth his rod upon the land of Egypt:  and
the Lord brought a burning wind all that day, and night; and when it
was morning, the burning wind raised the locusts.
10:14. And they came up over the whole land of Egypt; and rested in all
the coasts of the Egyptians, innumerable, the like as had not been
before that time, nor shall be hereafter.
10:15. And they covered the whole face of the earth, wasting all
things.  And the grass of the earth was devoured, and what fruits soever
were on the trees, which the hail had left; and there remained not any
thing that was green on the trees, or in the herbs of the earth, in all
10:16. Wherefore Pharao in haste called Moses and Aaron, and said to
them:  I have sinned against the Lord your God, and against you.
10:17. But now forgive me my sin this time also, and pray to the Lord
your God, that he take away from me this death.
10:18:  And Moses going forth from the presence of Pharao, prayed to the
10:19. And he made a very strong wind to blow from the west, and it
took the locusts and cast them into the Red Sea:  there remained not so
much as one in all the coasts of Egypt.
10:20. And the Lord hardened Pharao's heart, neither did he let the
children of Israel go.
10:21. And the Lord said to Moses:  Stretch out thy hand towards heaven:
and may there be darkness upon the land of Egypt so thick that it may
Darkness upon the land of Egypt, so thick that it may be felt. . .By
means of the gross exhalations, which were to cause and accompany the
10:22. And Moses stretched forth his hand towards heaven:  and there
came horrible darkness in all the land of Egypt for three days.
10:23. No man saw his brother, nor moved himself out of the place where
he was:  but wheresoever the children of Israel dwelt, there was light.
10:24. And Pharao called Moses and Aaron, and said to them:  Go,
sacrifice to the Lord:  let your sheep only, and herds remain, let your
children go with you.
10:25. Moses said:  Thou shalt give us also sacrifices and
burnt-offerings, to the Lord our God.
10:26. All the flocks shall go with us; there shall not a hoof remain
of them:  for they are necessary for the service of the Lord our God:
especially as we know not what must be offered, till we come to the
10:27. And the Lord hardened Pharao's heart, and he would not let them
10:28. And Pharao said to Moses:  Get thee from me, and beware thou see
not my face any more:  in what day soever thou shalt come in my sight,
thou shalt die.
10:29. Moses answered:  So shall it be as thou hast spoken, I will not
see thy face anymore.
Exodus Chapter 11
Pharao and his people are threatened with the death of their firstborn.
11:1. And the Lord said to Moses:  Yet one plague more will I bring upon
Pharao and Egypt, and after that he shall let you go, and thrust you
11:2. Therefore thou shalt tell all the people, that every man ask of
his friend, and every woman of her neighbour, vessels of silver and of
11:3. And the Lord will give favour to his people in the sight of the
Egyptians.  And Moses was a very great man in the land of Egypt, in the
sight of Pharao's servants, and of all the people.
11:4. And he said:  Thus saith the Lord:  At midnight I will enter into
11:5. And every firstborn in the land of the Egyptians shall die, from
the firstborn of Pharao who sitteth on his throne, even to the
firstborn of the handmaid that is at the mill, and all the firstborn of
11:6. And there shall be a great cry in all the land of Egypt, such as
neither hath been before, nor shall be hereafter.
11:7. But with all the children of Israel there shall not a dog make
the least noise, from man even to beast; that you may know how
wonderful a difference the Lord maketh between the Egyptians and
11:8. And all these thy servants shall come down to me, and shall
worship me, saying:  Go forth thou, and all the people that is under
thee:  after that we will go out.
11:9. And he went out from Pharao exceeding angry.  But the Lord said to
Moses:  Pharao will not hear you, that many signs may be done in the
land of Egypt.
11:10. And Moses and Aaron did all the wonders that are written, before
Pharao.  And the Lord hardened Pharao's heart, neither did he let the
children of Israel go out of his land.
The Lord hardened, etc. . .See the annotations above, chap. 4.21, and
Exodus Chapter 12
The manner of preparing, and eating the paschal lamb:  the firstborn of
Egypt are all slain:  the Israelites depart.
12:1. And the Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt:
12:2. This month shall be to you the beginning of months; it shall be
the first in the months of the year.
12:3. Speak ye to the whole assembly of the children of Israel, and say
to them:  On the tenth day of this month let every man take a lamb by
their families and houses.
12:4. But if the number be less than may suffice to eat the lamb, he
shall take unto him his neighbour that joineth to his house, according
to the number of souls which may be enough to eat the lamb.
12:5. And it shall be a lamb without blemish, a male, of one year;
according to which rite also you shall take a kid.
A kid. . .The phase might be performed, either with a lamb or with a
kid:  and all the same rites and ceremonies were to be used with the one
as with the other.
12:6. And you shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; and
the whole multitude of the children of Israel shall sacrifice it in the
12:7. And they shall take of the blood thereof, and put it upon both
the side posts, and on the upper door posts of the houses, wherein they
shall eat it.
12:8. And they shall eat the flesh that night roasted at the fire, and
unleavened bread with wild lettuce.
12:9. You shall not eat thereof any thing raw, nor boiled in water, but
only roasted at the fire; you shall eat the head with the feet and
entrails thereof.
12:10. Neither shall there remain any thing of it until morning.  If
there be any thing left, you shall burn it with fire.
12:11. And thus you shall eat it:  you shall gird your reins, and you
shall have shoes on your feet, holding staves in your hands, and you
shall eat in haste; for it is the Phase (that is the Passage) of the
12:12. And I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and will
kill every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast:  and
against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments; I am the Lord.
12:13. And the blood shall be unto you for a sign in the houses where
you shall be; and I shall see the blood, and shall pass over you; and
the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I shall strike
the land of Egypt.
12:14. And this day shall be for a memorial to you; and you shall keep
it a feast to the Lord in your generations, with an everlasting
12:15. Seven days shall you eat unleavened bread:  in the first day
there shall be no leaven in your houses; whosoever shall eat any thing
leavened, from the first day until the seventh day, that soul shall
perish out of Israel.
12:16. The first day shall be holy and solemn, and the seventh day
shall be kept with the like solemnity:  you shall do no work in them,
except those things that belong to eating.
12:17. And you shall observe the feast of the unleavened bread:  for in
this same day I will bring forth your army out of the land of Egypt,
and you shall keep this day in your generations by a perpetual
12:18:  The first month, the fourteenth day of the month, in the
evening, you shall eat unleavened bread, until the one and twentieth
day of the same month, in the evening.
Unleavened bread. . .By this it appears, that our Saviour made use of
unleavened bread, in the institution of the blessed sacrament, which
was on the evening of the paschal solemnity, at which time there was no
leavened bread to be found in Israel.
12:19. Seven days there shall not be found any leaven in your houses:
he that shall eat leavened bread, his soul shall perish out of the
assembly of Israel, whether he be a stranger or born in the land.
12:20. You shall not eat any thing leavened:  in all your habitations
you shall eat unleavened bread.
12:21. And Moses called all the ancients of the children of Israel, and
said to them:  Go take a lamb by your families, and sacrifice the Phase.
12:22. And dip a bunch of hyssop in the blood that is at the door, and
sprinkle the transom of the door therewith, and both the door cheeks:
let none of you go out of the door of his house till morning.
Sprinkle, etc. . .This sprinkling the doors of the Israelites with the
blood of the paschal lamb, in order to their being delivered from the
sword of the destroying angel, was a lively figure of our redemption by
the blood of Christ.
12:23. For the Lord will pass through striking the Egyptians:  and when
he shall see the blood on the transom, and on both the posts, he will
pass over the door of the house, and not suffer the destroyer to come
into your houses and to hurt you.
12:24. Thou shalt keep this thing as a law for thee and thy children
12:25. And when you have entered into the land which the Lord will give
you, as he hath promised, you shall observe these ceremonies.
12:26. And when your children shall say to you:  What is the meaning of
this service?
12:27. You shall say to them:  It is the victim of the passage of the
Lord, when he passed over the houses of the children of Israel in
Egypt, striking the Egyptians, and saving our houses.  And the people
bowing themselves, adored.
12:28. And the children of Israel going forth, did as the Lord had
commanded Moses and Aaron.
12:29. And it came to pass at midnight, the Lord slew every firstborn
in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharao, who sat on his
throne, unto the firstborn of the captive woman that was in the prison,
and all the firstborn of cattle.
12:30. And Pharao arose in the night, and all his servants, and all
Egypt:  and there arose a great cry in Egypt; for there was not a house
wherein there lay not one dead.
12:31. And Pharao calling Moses and Aaron, in the night, said:  Arise
and go forth from among my people, you and the children of Israel:  go,
sacrifice to the Lord as you say.
12:32. Your sheep and herds take along with you, as you demanded, and
departing bless me.
12:33. And the Egyptians pressed the people to go forth out of the land
speedily, saying:  We shall all die.
12:34. The people therefore took dough before it was leavened; and
tying it in their cloaks, put it on their shoulders.
12:35. And the children of Israel did as Moses had commanded:  and they
asked of the Egyptians vessels of silver and gold, and very much
12:36. And the Lord gave favour to the people in the sight of the
Egyptians, so that they lent unto them:  and they stripped the
12:37. And the children of Israel set forward from Ramesse to Socoth,
being about six hundred thousand men on foot, beside children.
12:38. And a mixed multitude, without number, went up also with them,
sheep and herds, and beasts of divers kinds, exceeding many.
12:39. And they baked the meal, which a little before they had brought
out of Egypt in dough:  and they made hearth cakes unleavened:  for it
could not be leavened, the Egyptians pressing them to depart, and not
suffering them to make any stay; neither did they think of preparing
12:40. And the abode of the children of Israel that they made in Egypt,
was four hundred and thirty years.
12:41. Which being expired, the same day all the army of the Lord went
forth out of the land of Egypt.
12:42. This is the observable night of the Lord, when he brought them
forth out of the land of Egypt:  this night all the children of Israel
must observe in their generations.
12:43. And the Lord said to Moses and Aaron:  This is the service of the
Phase; no foreigner shall eat of it.
12:44. But every bought servant shall be circumcised, and so shall eat.
12:45. The stranger and the hireling shall not eat thereof.
12:46. In one house shall it be eaten, neither shall you carry forth of
the flesh thereof out of the house, neither shall you break a bone
12:47. All the assembly of the children of Israel shall keep it.
12:48. And if any stranger be willing to dwell among you, and to keep
the Phase of the Lord, all his males shall first be circumcised, and
then shall he celebrate it according to the manner:  and he shall be as
he that is born in the land:  but if any man be uncircumcised, he shall
not eat thereof.
12:49. The same law shall be to him that is born in the land, and to
the proselyte that sojourneth with you.
12:50. And all the children of Israel did as the Lord had commanded
Moses and Aaron.
12:51. And the same day the Lord brought forth the children of Israel
out of the land of Egypt by their companies.
Exodus Chapter 13
The paschal solemnity is to be observed; and the firstborn are to be
consecrated to God.  The people are conducted through the desert by a
pillar of fire in the night, and a cloud in the day.
13:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
13:2. Sanctify unto me every firstborn that openeth the womb among the
children of Israel, as well of men as of beasts:  for they are all mine.
Sanctify unto me every firstborn. . .Sanctification in this place means
that the firstborn males of the Hebrews should be deputed to the
ministry in the divine worship; and the firstborn of beasts to be given
for a sacrifice.
13:3. And Moses said to the people:  Remember this day in which you came
forth out of Egypt, and out of the house of bondage, for with a strong
hand hath the Lord brought you forth out of this place:  that you eat no
leavened bread.
13:4. This day you go forth in the month of new corn.
13:5. And when the Lord shall have brought thee into the land of the
Chanaanite, and the Hethite, and the Amorrhite, and the Hevite, and the
Jebusite, which he swore to thy fathers that he would give thee, a land
that floweth with milk and honey, thou shalt celebrate this manner of
sacred rites in this month.
13:6. Seven days shalt thou eat unleavened bread:  and on the seventh
day shall be the solemnity of the Lord.
13:7. Unleavened bread shall you eat seven days:  there shall not be
seen any thing leavened with thee, nor in all thy coasts.
13:8. And thou shalt tell thy son in that day, saying:  This is what the
Lord did to me when I came forth out of Egypt.
13:9. And it shall be as a sign in thy hand, and as a memorial before
thy eyes; and that the law of the Lord be always in thy mouth, for with
a strong hand the Lord hath brought thee out of the land of Egypt.
13:10. Thou shalt keep this observance at the set time from days to
13:11. And when the Lord shall have brought thee into the land of the
Chanaanite, as he swore to thee and thy fathers, and shall give it
13:12. Thou shalt set apart all that openeth the womb for the Lord, and
all that is first brought forth of thy cattle:  whatsoever thou shalt
have of the male sex, thou shalt consecrate to the Lord.
13:13. The firstborn of an ass thou shalt change for a sheep:  and if
thou do not redeem it, thou shalt kill it.  And every firstborn of men
thou shalt redeem with a price.
13:14. And when thy son shall ask thee to morrow, saying:  What is this?
thou shalt answer him:  With a strong hand did the Lord bring us forth
out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.
13:15. For when Pharao was hardened, and would not let us go, the Lord
slew every firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of man to
the firstborn of beasts:  therefore I sacrifice to the Lord all that
openeth the womb of the male sex, and all the firstborn of my sons I
13:16. And it shall be as a sign in thy hand, and as a thing hung
between thy eyes, for a remembrance:  because the Lord hath brought us
forth out of Egypt by a strong hand.
13:17. And when Pharao had sent out the people, the Lord led them not
by the way of the land of the Philistines, which is near; thinking lest
perhaps they would repent, if they should see wars arise against them,
and would return into Egypt.
13:18:  But he led them about by the way of the desert, which is by the
Red Sea:  and the children of Israel went up armed out of the land of
13:19. And Moses took Joseph's bones with him:  because he had adjured
the children of Israel, saying:  God shall visit you, carry out my bones
from hence with you.
13:20. And marching from Socoth, they encamped in Etham, in the utmost
coasts of the wilderness.
13:21. And the Lord went before them to shew the way, by day in a
pillar of a cloud, and by night in a pillar of fire; that he might be
the guide of their journey at both times.
13:22. There never failed the pillar of the cloud by day, nor the
pillar of fire by night, before the people.
Exodus Chapter 14
Pharao pursueth the children of Israel.  They murmur against Moses, but
are encouraged by him, and pass through the Red Sea.  Pharao and his
army following them are drowned.
14:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
14:2. Speak to the children of Israel:  Let them turn and encamp over
against Phihahiroth, which is between Magdal and the sea over against
Beelsephon:  you shall encamp before it upon the sea.
14:3. And Pharao will say of the children of Israel:  They are
straitened in the land, the desert hath shut them in.
14:4. And I shall harden his heart and he will pursue you:  and I shall
be glorified in Pharao, and in all his army:  and the Egyptians shall
know that I am the Lord.  And they did so.
14:5. And it was told the king of the Egyptians that the people was
fled:  and the heart of Pharao and of his servants was changed with
regard to the people, and they said:  What meant we to do, that we let
Israel go from serving us?
14:6. So he made ready his chariot, and took all his people with him.
14:7. And he took six hundred chosen chariots, and all the chariots
that were in Egypt:  and the captains of the whole army.
14:8. And the Lord hardened the heart of Pharao, king of Egypt, and he
pursued the children of Israel; but they were gone forth in a mighty
14:9. And when the Egyptians followed the steps of them who were gone
before, they found them encamped at the sea side:  all Pharao's horse
and chariots and the whole army were in Phihahiroth, before Beelsephon.
14:10. And when Pharao drew near, the children of Israel lifting up
their eyes, saw the Egyptians behind them:  and they feared exceedingly,
and cried to the Lord.
14:11. And they said to Moses:  Perhaps there were no graves in Egypt,
therefore thou hast brought us to die in the wilderness:  why wouldst
thou do this, to lead us out of Egypt?
14:12. Is not this the word that we spoke to thee in Egypt, saying:
Depart from us, that we may serve the Egyptians?  for it was much better
to serve them, than to die in the wilderness.
14:13. And Moses said to the people:  Fear not:  stand, and see the great
wonders of the Lord, which he will do this day; for the Egyptians, whom
you see now, you shall see no more for ever.
14:14. The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.
14:15. And the Lord said to Moses:  Why criest thou to me?  Speak to the
children of Israel to go forward.
14:16. But lift thou up thy rod, and stretch forth thy hand over the
sea, and divide it:  that the children of Israel may go through the
midst of the sea on dry ground.
14:17. And I will harden the heart of the Egyptians to pursue you:  and
I will be glorified in Pharao, and in all his host, and in his chariots
and in his horsemen.
14:18:  And the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall be
glorified in Pharao, and in his chariots, and in his horsemen.
14:19. And the angel of God, who went before the camp of Israel,
removing, went behind them:  and together with him the pillar of the
cloud, leaving the forepart,
14:20. Stood behind, between the Egyptians' camp and the camp of
Israel:  and it was a dark cloud, and enlightening the night, so that
they could not come at one another all the night.
A dark cloud, and enlightening the night. . .It was a dark cloud to the
Egyptians; but enlightened the night to the Israelites by giving them a
great light.
14:21. And when Moses had stretched forth his hand over the sea, the
Lord took it away by a strong and burning wind blowing all the night,
and turned it into dry ground:  and the water was divided.
14:22. And the children of Israel went in through the midst of the sea
dried up; for the water was as a wall on their right hand and on their
14:23. And the Egyptians pursuing went in after them, and all Pharao's
horses, his chariots and horsemen, through the midst of the sea.
14:24. And now the morning watch was come, and behold the Lord looking
upon the Egyptian army through the pillar of fire and of the cloud,
slew their host.
14:25. And overthrew the wheels of the chariots, and they were carried
into the deep.  And the Egyptians said:  Let us flee from Israel; for the
Lord fighteth for them against us.
14:26. And the Lord said to Moses:  Stretch forth thy hand over the sea,
that the waters may come again upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots
and horsemen.
14:27. And when Moses had stretched forth his hand towards the sea, it
returned at the first break of day to the former place:  and as the
Egyptians were fleeing away, the waters came upon them, and the Lord
shut them up in the middle of the waves.
14:28. And the waters returned, and covered the chariots and the
horsemen of all the army of Pharao, who had come into the sea after
them, neither did there so much as one of them remain.
14:29. But the children of Israel marched through the midst of the sea
upon dry land, and the waters were to them as a wall on the right hand
and on the left:
14:30. And the Lord delivered Israel in that day out of the hands of
the Egyptians.
14:31. And they saw the Egyptians dead upon the sea shore, and the
mighty hand that the Lord had used against them:  and the people feared
the Lord, and they believed the Lord, and Moses his servant.
Exodus Chapter 15
The canticle of Moses.  The bitter waters of Mara are made sweet.
15:1. Then Moses and the children of Israel sung this canticle to the
Lord, and said:  Let us sing to the Lord:  for he is gloriously
magnified, the horse and the rider he hath thrown into the sea.
15:2. The Lord is my strength and my praise, and he is become salvation
to me:  he is my God, and I will glorify him:  the God of my father, and
I will exalt him.
15:3. The Lord is as a man of war, Almighty is his name.
15:4. Pharao's chariots and his army he hath cast into the sea:  his
chosen captains are drowned in the Red Sea.
15:5. The depths have covered them, they are sunk to the bottom like a
15:6. Thy right hand, O Lord, is magnified in strength:  thy right hand,
O Lord, hath slain the enemy.
15:7. And in the multitude of thy glory thou hast put down thy
adversaries:  thou hast sent thy wrath, which hath devoured them like
15:8. And with the blast of thy anger the waters were gathered
together:  the flowing water stood, the depths were gathered together in
the midst of the sea.
15:9. The enemy said:  I will pursue and overtake, I will divide the
spoils, my soul shall have its fill:  I will draw my sword, my hand
shall slay them.
15:10. Thy wind blew and the sea covered them:  they sunk as lead in the
mighty waters.
15:11. Who is like to thee, among the strong, O Lord?  who is like to
thee, glorious in holiness, terrible and praise-worthy, doing wonders?
15:12. Thou stretchedst forth thy hand, and the earth swallowed them.
15:13. In thy mercy thou hast been a leader to the people which thou
hast redeemed:  and in thy strength thou hast carried them to thy holy
15:14. Nations rose up, and were angry:  sorrows took hold on the
inhabitants of Philisthiim.
15:15. Then were the princes of Edom troubled, trembling seized on the
stout men of Moab:  all the inhabitants of Chanaan became stiff.
15:16. Let fear and dread fall upon them, in the greatness of thy arm:
let them become immoveable as a stone, until thy people, O Lord, pass
by:  until this thy people pass by, which thou hast possessed.
15:17. Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of thy
inheritance, in thy most firm habitation, which thou hast made, O Lord;
thy sanctuary, O Lord, which thy hands have established.
15:18:  The Lord shall reign for ever and ever.
15:19. For Pharao went in on horseback with his chariots and horsemen
into the sea:  and the Lord brought back upon them the waters of the
sea:  but the children of Israel walked on dry ground in the midst
15:20. So Mary the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in
her hand:  and all the women went forth after her with timbrels and with
15:21. And she began the song to them, saying:  Let us sing to the Lord,
for he is gloriously magnified, the horse and his rider he hath thrown
into the sea.
15:22. And Moses brought Israel from the Red Sea, and they went forth
into the wilderness of Sur:  and they marched three days through the
wilderness, and found no water.
15:23. And they came into Mara, and they could not drink the waters of
Mara because they were bitter:  whereupon he gave a name also agreeable
to the place, calling it Mara, that is, bitterness.
15:24. And the people murmured against Moses, saying:  What shall we
15:25. But he cried to the Lord, and he shewed him a tree, which when
he had cast into the waters, they were turned into sweetness.  There he
appointed him ordinances, and judgments, and there he proved him,
15:26. Saying:  If thou wilt hear the voice of the Lord thy God, and do
what is right before him, and obey his commandments, and keep all his
precepts, none of the evils that I laid upon Egypt, will I bring upon
thee:  for I am the Lord thy healer.
15:27. And the children of Israel came into Elim, where there were
twelve fountains of water, and seventy palm trees:  and they encamped by
Exodus Chapter 16
The people murmur for want of meat:  God giveth them quails and manna.
16:1. And they set forward from Elim, and all the multitude of the
children of Israel came into the desert of Sin, which is between Elim
and Sinai:  the fifteenth day of the second month, after they came out
of the land of Egypt.
16:2. And all the congregation of the children of Israel murmured
against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness.
16:3. And the children of Israel said to them:  Would to God we had died
by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat over the
fleshpots, and ate bread to the full:  Why have you brought us into this
desert, that you might destroy all the multitude with famine?
16:4. And the Lord said to Moses:  Behold I will rain bread from heaven
for you; let the people go forth, and gather what is sufficient for
every day:  that I may prove them whether they will walk in my law, or
16:5. But the sixth day let them provide for to bring in:  and let it be
double to that they were wont to gather every day.
16:6. And Moses and Aaron said to the children of Israel In the evening
you shall know that the Lord hath brought you forth out of the land of
16:7. And in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord:  for he
hath heard your murmuring against the Lord:  but as for us, what are we,
that you mutter against us?
16:8. And Moses said:  In the evening the Lord will give you flesh to
eat, and in the morning bread to the full:  for he hath heard your
murmurings, with which you have murmured against him, for what are we?
your murmuring is not against us, but against the Lord.
16:9. Moses also said to Aaron:  Say to the whole congregation of the
children of Israel:  Come before the Lord; for he hath heard your
16:10. And when Aaron spoke to all the assembly of the children of
Israel, they looked towards the wilderness; and behold the glory of the
Lord appeared in a cloud.
16:11. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
16:12. I have heard the murmuring of the children of Israel, say to
them:  In the evening you shall eat flesh, and in the morning you shall
have your fill of bread; and you shall know that I am the Lord your
16:13. So it came to pass in the evening, that quails coming up,
covered the camp:  and in the morning a dew lay round about the camp.
16:14. And when it had covered the face of the earth, it appeared in
the wilderness small, and as it were beaten with a pestle, like unto
the hoar frost on the ground.
16:15. And when the children of Israel saw it, they said one to
another:  Manhu! which signifieth:  What is this! for they knew not what
it was.  And Moses said to them:  This is the bread which the Lord hath
given you to eat.
16:16. This is the word that the Lord hath commanded:  Let every one
gather of it as much as is enough to eat; a gomor for every man,
according to the number of your souls that dwell in a tent, so shall
you take of it.
16:17. And the children of Israel did so:  and they gathered, one more,
another less.
16:18:  And they measured by the measure of a gomor:  neither had he more
that had gathered more; nor did he find less that had provided less:
but every one had gathered, according to what they were able to eat.
16:19. And Moses said to them:  Let no man leave thereof till the
16:20. And they hearkened not to him, but some of them left until the
morning, and it began to be full of worms, and it putrified, and Moses
was angry with them.
16:21. Now every one of them gathered in the morning, as much as might
suffice to eat:  and after the sun grew hot, it melted.
16:22. But on the sixth day they gathered twice as much, that is, two
gomors every man:  and all the rulers of the multitude came, and told
16:23. And he said to them:  This is what the Lord hath spoken:  To
morrow is the rest of the sabbath sanctified to the Lord.  Whatsoever
work is to be done, do it; and the meats that are to be dressed, dress
them; and whatsoever shall remain, lay it up until the morning.
16:24. And they did so as Moses had commanded, and it did not putrify,
neither was there worm found in it.
16:25. And Moses said:  Eat it to day, because it is the sabbath of the
Lord:  to day it shall not be found in the field.
16:26. Gather it six days; but on the seventh day is the sabbath of the
Lord, therefore it shall not be found.
16:27. And the seventh day came; and some of the people going forth to
gather, found none.
16:28. And the Lord said to Moses:  How long will you refuse to keep my
commandments, and my law?
16:29. See that the Lord hath given you the sabbath, and for this
reason on the sixth day he giveth you a double provision:  let each man
stay at home, and let none go forth out of his place the seventh day.
16:30. And the people kept the sabbath on the seventh day.
16:31. And the house of Israel called the name thereof Manna:  and it
was like coriander seed, white, and the taste thereof like to flour
16:32. And Moses said:  This is the word which the Lord hath commanded:
Fill a gomor of it, and let it be kept unto generations to come
hereafter; that they may know the bread, wherewith I fed you in the
wilderness when you were brought forth out of the land of Egypt.
16:33. And Moses said to Aaron:  Take a vessel, and put manna into it,
as much as a gomor can hold; and lay it up before the Lord, to keep
unto your generations,
16:34. As the Lord commanded Moses.  And Aaron put it in the tabernacle
16:35. And the children of Israel ate manna forty years, till they came
to a habitable land:  with this meat were they fed, until they reached
the borders of the land of Chanaan.
16:36. Now a gomor is the tenth part of an ephi.
Exodus Chapter 17
The people murmur again for want of drink; the Lord giveth them water
out of a rock.  Moses lifting up his hand in prayer, Amalec is overcome.
17:1. Then all the multitude of the children of Israel setting forward
from the desert of Sin, by their mansions, according to the word of the
Lord, encamped in Raphidim, where there was no water for the people to
17:2. And they chode with Moses, and said:  Give us water, that we may
drink.  And Moses answered them:  Why chide you with me?  Wherefore do
you tempt the Lord?
17:3. So the people were thirsty there for want of water, and murmured
against Moses, saying:  Why didst thou make us go forth out of Egypt, to
kill us and our children, and our beasts with thirst?
17:4. And Moses cried to the Lord, saying:  What shall I do to this
people?  Yet a little more and they will stone me.
17:5. And the Lord said to Moses:  Go before the people, and take with
thee of the ancients of Israel:  and take in thy hand the rod wherewith
thou didst strike the river, and go.
17:6. Behold I will stand there before thee, upon the rock Horeb, and
thou shalt strike the rock, and water shall come out of it that the
people may drink.  Moses did so before the ancients of Israel:
17:7. And he called the name of that place Temptation, because of the
chiding of the children of Israel, and for that they tempted the Lord,
saying:  Is the Lord amongst us or not?
17:8. And Amalec came, and fought against Israel in Raphidim.
17:9. And Moses said to Josue:  Choose out men; and go out and fight
against Amalec:  tomorrow I will stand on the top of the hill, having
the rod of God in my hand.
17:10. Josue did as Moses had spoken, and he fought against Amalec; but
Moses, and Aaron, and Hur, went up upon the top of the hill.
17:11. And when Moses lifted up his hands, Israel overcame; but if he
let them down a little, Amalec overcame.
17:12. And Moses's hands were heavy:  so they took a stone, and put
under him, and he sat on it:  and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands on
both sides.  And it came to pass, that his hands were not weary until
17:13. And Josue put Amalec and his people to flight, by the edge of
17:14. And the Lord said to Moses:  Write this for a memorial in a book,
and deliver it to the ears of Josue; for I will destroy the memory of
Amalec from under heaven.
17:15. And Moses built an altar; and called the name thereof, The Lord,
my exaltation, saying:
17:16. Because the hand of the throne of the Lord, and the war of the
Lord shall be against Amalec, from generation to generation.
Exodus Chapter 18
Jethro bringeth to Moses his wife and children.  His counsel.
18:1. And when Jethro the priest of Madian, the kinsman of Moses, had
heard all the things that God had done to Moses, and to Israel his
people, and that the Lord had brought forth Israel out of Egypt:
18:2. He took Sephora, the wife of Moses, whom he had sent back:
18:3. And her two sons, of whom one was called Gersam:  his father
saying, I have been a stranger in a foreign country.
18:4. And the other Eliezer:  For the God of my father, said he, is my
helper, and hath delivered me from the sword of Pharao.
18:5. And Jethro, the kinsman of Moses, came with his sons, and his
wife to Moses into the desert, where he was camped by the mountain of
18:6. And he sent word to Moses, saying:  I Jethro, thy kinsman, come to
thee, and thy wife, and thy two sons with her.
18:7. And he went out to meet his kinsman, and worshipped and kissed
him:  and they saluted one another with words of peace.  And when he was
come into the tent,
18:8. Moses told his kinsman all that the Lord had done to Pharao, and
the Egyptians in favour of Israel:  and all the labour which had
befallen them in the journey, and that the Lord had delivered them.
18:9. And Jethro rejoiced for all the good things that the Lord had
done to Israel, because he had delivered them out of the hands of the
18:10. And he said:  Blessed is the Lord, who hath delivered his people
out of the hand of Egypt.
18:11. Now I know, that the Lord is great above all gods; because they
dealt proudly against them.
18:12. So Jethro, the kinsman of Moses, offered holocausts and
sacrifices to God:  and Aaron and all the ancients of Israel came, to
eat bread with him before God.
18:13. And the next day Moses sat to judge the people, who stood by
Moses from morning until night.
18:14. And when his kinsman had seen all things that he did among the
people, he said:  What is it that thou dost among the people?  Why
sittest thou alone, and all the people wait from morning till night?
18:15. And Moses answered him:  The people come to me to seek the
judgment of God?
18:16. And when any controversy falleth out among them, they come to me
to judge between them, and to shew the precepts of God, and his laws.
18:17. But he said:  The thing thou dost is not good.
18:18:  Thou art spent with foolish labour, both thou, and this people
that is with thee; the business is above thy strength, thou alone canst
not bear it.
18:19. But hear my words and counsels, and God shall be with thee.  Be
thou to the people in those things that pertain to God, to bring their
words to him:
18:20. And to shew the people the ceremonies, and the manner of
worshipping; and the way wherein they ought to walk, and the work that
they ought to do.
18:21. And provide out of all the people able men, such as fear God, in
whom there is truth, and that hate avarice, and appoint of them rulers
of thousands, and of hundreds, and of fifties, and of tens,
18:22. Who may judge the people at all times:  and when any great matter
soever shall fall out, let them refer it to thee, and let them judge
the lesser matters only:  that so it may be lighter for thee, the burden
being shared out unto others.
18:23. If thou dost this, thou shalt fulfil the commandment of God, and
shalt be able to bear his precepts:  and all this people shall return to
their places with peace.
18:24. And when Moses heard this, he did all things that he had
suggested unto him.
18:25. And choosing able men out of all Israel, he appointed them
rulers of the people, rulers over thousands, and over hundreds, and
over fifties, and over tens.
18:26. And they judged the people at all times:  and whatsoever was of
greater difficulty they referred to him, and they judged the easier
18:27. And he let his kinsman depart:  and he returned and went into his
own country.
Exodus Chapter 19
They come to Sinai:  the people are commanded to be sanctified.  The
Lord, coming in thunder and lightning, speaketh with Moses.
19:1. In the third month of the departure of Israel out of the land of
Egypt, on this day they came into the wilderness of Sinai:
19:2. For departing out of Raphidim, and coming to the desert of Sinai,
they camped in the same place, and there Israel pitched their tents
over against the mountain.
19:3. And Moses went up to God; and the Lord called unto him from the
mountain, and said:  Thus shalt thou say to the house of Jacob, and tell
the children of Israel:
And Moses went up to God. . .Moses went up to mount Sinai, where God
spoke to him.
19:4. You have seen what I have done to the Egyptians, how I have
carried you upon the wings of eagles, and have taken you to myself.
19:5. If therefore you will hear my voice, and keep my covenant, you
shall be my peculiar possession above all people:  for all the earth is
19:6. And you shall be to me a priestly kingdom, and a holy nation.
These are the words thou shalt speak to the children of Israel.
19:7. Moses came; and calling together the elders of the people, he
declared all the words which the Lord had commanded.
19:8. And all the people answered together:  All that the Lord hath
spoken, we will do.  And when Moses had related the people's words to
19:9. The Lord said to him:  Lo, now will I come to thee in the darkness
of a cloud, that the people may hear me speaking to thee, and may
believe thee for ever.  And Moses told the words of the people to the
19:10. And he said to him:  Go to the people, and sanctify them to day,
and to morrow, and let them wash their garments.
19:11. And let them be ready against the third day; for on the third
day the Lord will come down in the sight of all the people, upon Mount
19:12. And thou shalt appoint certain limits to the people round about,
and thou shalt say to them:  Take heed ye go not up into the mount, and
that ye touch not the borders thereof:  every one that toucheth the
mount, dying he shall die.
19:13. No hands shall touch him, but he shall be stoned to death, or he
shall be shot through with arrows:  whether it be beast, or man, he
shall not live.  When the trumpet shall begin to sound, then let them go
up into the mount.
19:14. And Moses came down from the mount to the people, and sanctified
them.  And when they had washed their garments,
19:15. He said to them:  Be ready against the third day, and come not
near your wives.
19:16. And now the third day was come, and the morning appeared:  and
behold thunders began to be heard, and lightning to flash, and a very
thick cloud to cover the mount, and the noise of the trumpet sounded
exceeding loud; and the people that was in the camp, feared.
19:17. And when Moses had brought them forth to meet God, from the
place of the camp, they stood at the bottom of the mount.
19:18. And all Mount Sinai was on a smoke:  because the Lord was come
down upon it in fire, and the smoke arose from it as out of a furnace:
and all the mount was terrible.
19:19. And the sound of the trumpet grew by degrees louder and louder,
and was drawn out to a greater length:  Moses spoke, and God answered
19:20. And the Lord came down upon Mount Sinai, in the very top of the
mount, and he called Moses unto the top thereof.  And when he was gone
19:21. He said unto him:  Go down, and charge the people; lest they
should have a mind to pass the limits to see the Lord, and a very great
multitude of them should perish.
19:22. The priests also that come to the Lord, let them be sanctified,
lest he strike them.
19:23. And Moses said to the Lord:  The people cannot come up to Mount
Sinai:  for thou didst charge, and command, saying:  Set limits about the
mount, and sanctify it.
19:24. And the Lord said to him:  Go, get thee down; and thou shalt come
up, thou and Aaron with thee:  but let not the priests and the people
pass the limits, nor come up to the Lord, lest he kill them.
19:25. And Moses went down to the people and told them all.
Exodus Chapter 20
The ten commandments.
20:1. And the Lord spoke all these words:
20:2. I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land of Egypt,
out of the house of bondage.
20:3. Thou shalt not have strange gods before me.
20:4. Thou shalt not make to thyself a graven thing, nor the likeness
of any thing that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, nor of
those things that are in the waters under the earth.
A graven thing, nor the likeness of any thing, etc. . .All such images,
or likenesses, are forbidden by this commandment, as are made to be
adored and served; according to that which immediately follows, thou
shalt not adore them, nor serve them.  That is, all such as are designed
for idols or image-gods, or are worshipped with divine honour.  But
otherwise images, pictures, or representations, even in the house of
God, and in the very sanctuary so far from being forbidden, are
expressly authorized by the word of God.  See Ex. 25.15, and etc.; chap.
38.7; Num. 21.8, 9; 1 Chron. or Paralip. 28.18, 19; 2 Chron. or
Paralip. 3.10.
20:5. Thou shalt not adore them, nor serve them:  I am the Lord thy God,
mighty, jealous, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the
children, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me:
20:6. And shewing mercy unto thousands to them that love me, and keep
my commandments.
20:7. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain:  for the
Lord will not hold him guiltless that shall take the name of the Lord
his God in vain.
20:8. Remember that thou keep holy the sabbath day.
20:9. Six days shalt thou labour, and shalt do all thy works.
20:10. But on the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God:  thou
shalt do no work on it, thou nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy
manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy beast, nor the stranger that
is within thy gates.
20:11. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and the sea, and
all things that are in them, and rested on the seventh day:  therefore
the Lord blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it.
20:12. Honour thy father and thy mother, that thou mayst be longlived
upon the land which the Lord thy God will give thee.
20:13. Thou shalt not kill.
20:14. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
20:15. Thou shalt not steal.
20:16. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.
20:17. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house; neither shalt thou
desire his wife, nor his servant, nor his handmaid, nor his ox, nor his
ass, nor any thing that is his.
20:18. And all the people saw the voices and the flames, and the sound
of the trumpet, and the mount smoking; and being terrified and struck
with fear, they stood afar off,
20:19. Saying to Moses:  Speak thou to us, and we will hear:  let not the
Lord speak to us, lest we die.
20:20. And Moses said to the people:  Fear not; for God is come to prove
you, and that the dread of him might be in you, and you should not sin.
20:21. And the people stood afar off.  But Moses went to the dark cloud
wherein God was.
20:22. And the Lord said to Moses:  Thus shalt thou say to the children
of Israel:  You have seen that I have spoken to you from heaven.
20:23. You shall not make gods of silver, nor shall you make to
yourselves gods of gold.
20:24. You shall make an altar of earth unto me, and you shall offer
upon it your holocausts and peace offerings, your sheep and oxen, in
every place where the memory of my name shall be:  I will come to thee,
and will bless thee.
20:25. And if thou make an altar of stone unto me, thou shalt not build
it of hewn stones; for if thou lift up a tool upon it, it shall be
20:26. Thou shalt not go up by steps unto my altar, lest thy nakedness
be discovered.
Exodus Chapter 21
Laws relating to Justice.
21:1. These are the judgments which thou shalt set before them.
21:2. If thou buy a Hebrew servant, six years shall he serve thee; in
the seventh he shall go out free for nothing.
21:3. With what raiment he came in, with the like let him go out:  if
having a wife, his wife also shall go out with him.
21:4. But if his master gave him a wife, and she hath borne sons and
daughters; the woman and her children shall be her master's:  but he
himself shall go out with his raiment.
21:5. And if the servant shall say:  I love my master and my wife and
children, I will not go out free:
21:6. His master shall bring him to the gods, and he shall be set to
the door and the posts, and he shall bore his ear through with an awl:
and he shall be his servant for ever.
To the gods. . .Elohim.  That is, to the judges, or magistrates,
authorized by God.
21:7. If any man sell his daughter to be a servant, she shall not go
out as bondwomen are wont to go out.
21:8. If she displease the eyes of her master to whom she was
delivered, he shall let her go:  but he shall have no power to sell her
to a foreign nation, if he despise her.
21:9. But if he have betrothed her to his son, he shall deal with her
after the manner of daughters.
21:10. And if he take another wife for him, he shall provide her a
marriage, and raiment, neither shall he refuse the price of her
21:11. If he do not these three things, she shall go out free without
21:12. He that striketh a man with a will to kill him, shall be put to
21:13. But he that did not lie in wait for him, but God delivered him
into his hands:  I will appoint thee a place to which he must flee.
21:14. If a man kill his neighbour on set purpose, and by lying in wait
for him:  thou shalt take him away from my altar that he may die.
21:15. He that striketh his father or mother, shall be put to death.
21:16. He that shall steal a man, and sell him, being convicted of the
guilt, shall be put to death.
21:17. He that curseth his father or mother, shall die the death.
21:18. If men quarrel, and the one strike his neighbour with a stone,
or with his fist, and he die not, but keepeth his bed:
21:19. If he rise again and walk abroad upon his staff, he that struck
him shall be quit, yet so that he make restitution for his work, and
for his expenses upon the physicians.
21:20. He that striketh his bondman, or bondwoman, with a rod, and they
die under his hands, shall be guilty of the crime.
21:21. But if the party remain alive a day or two, he shall not be
subject to the punishment, because it is his money.
21:22. If men quarrel, and one strike a woman with child and she
miscarry indeed, but live herself:  he shall be answerable for so much
damage as the woman's husband shall require, and as arbiters shall
21:23. But if her death ensue thereupon, he shall render life for life,
21:24. Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot,
21:25. Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.
21:26. If any man strike the eye of his manservant or maidservant, and
leave them but one eye, he shall let them go free for the eye which he
21:27. Also if he strike out a tooth of his manservant or maidservant,
he shall in like manner make them free.
21:28. If an ox gore a man or a woman, and they die, he shall be
stoned:  and his flesh shall not be eaten, but the owner of the ox shall
21:29. But if the ox was wont to push with his horn yesterday, and the
day before, and they warned his master, and he did not shut him up, and
he shall kill a man or a woman:  then the ox shall be stoned, and his
owner also shall be put to death.
21:30. And if they set a price upon him, he shall give for his life
whatsoever is laid upon him.
21:31. If he have gored a son, or a daughter, he shall fall under the
like sentence.
21:32. If he assault a bondman or bondwoman, he shall give thirty
sicles of silver to their master, and the ox shall be stoned.
21:33. If a man open a pit, and dig one, and cover it not, and an ox or
an ass fall into it,
21:34. The owner of the pit shall pay the price of the beasts:  and that
which is dead shall be his own.
21:35. If one man's ox gore another man's ox, and he die:  they shall
sell the live ox, and shall divide the price, and the carcass of that
which died they shall part between them:
21:36. But if he knew that his ox was wont to push yesterday, and the
day before, and his master did not keep him in; he shall pay ox for ox,
and shall take the whole carcass.
Exodus Chapter 22
The punishment of theft, and other trespasses.  The law of lending
without usury, of taking pledges of reverences to superiors, and of
paying tithes.
22:1. If any man steal an ox or a sheep, and kill or sell it:  he shall
restore five oxen for one ox, and four sheep for one sheep.
22:2. If a thief be found breaking open a house or undermining it, and
be wounded so as to die:  he that slew him shall not be guilty of blood.
22:3. But if he did this when the sun is risen, he hath committed
murder, and he shall die.  If he have not wherewith to make restitution
for the theft, he shall be sold.
22:4. If that which he stole be found with him, alive, either ox, or
ass, or sheep:  he shall restore double.
22:5. If any man hurt a field or a vineyard, and put in his beast to
feed upon that which is other men's:  he shall restore the best of
whatsoever he hath in his own field, or in his vineyard, according to
the estimation of the damage.
22:6. If a fire breaking out light upon thorns, and catch stacks of
corn, or corn standing in the fields, he that kindled the fire shall
make good the loss.
22:7. If a man deliver money, or any vessel unto his friend to keep,
and they be stolen away from him that received them:  if the thief be
found, he shall restore double:
22:8. If the thief be not known, the master of the house shall be
brought to the gods, and shall swear that he did not lay his hand upon
his neighbour's goods,
22:9. To do any fraud, either in ox, or in ass, or sheep, or raiment,
or any thing that may bring damage:  the cause of both parties shall
come to the gods:  and if they give judgment, he shall restore double to
his neighbour.
22:10. If a man deliver ass, ox, sheep, or any beast, to his
neighbour's custody, and it die, or be hurt, or be taken by enemies,
and no man saw it:
22:11. There shall be an oath between them, that he did not put forth
his hand to his neighbour's goods:  and the owner shall accept of the
oath, and he shall not be compelled to make restitution.
22:12. But if it were taken away by stealth, he shall make the loss
good to the owner.
22:13. If it were eaten by a beast, let him bring to him that which was
slain, and he shall not make restitution.
22:14. If a man borrow of his neighbour any of these things, and it be
hurt or die, the owner not being present, he shall be obliged to make
restitution.
22:15. But if the owner be present, he shall not make restitution,
especially if it were hired, and came for the hire of his work.
22:16. If a man seduce a virgin not yet espoused, and lie with her:  he
shall endow her, and have her to wife.
22:17. If the maid's father will not give her to him, he shall give
money according to the dowry, which virgins are wont to receive.
22:18. Wizards thou shalt not suffer to live.
22:19. Whosoever copulateth with a beast; shall be put to death.
22:20. He that sacrificeth to gods, shall be put to death, save only to
22:21. Thou shalt not molest a stranger, nor afflict him:  for
yourselves also were strangers in the land of Egypt.
22:22. You shall not hurt a widow or an orphan.
22:23. If you hurt them, they will cry out to me, and I will hear their
22:24. And my rage shall be enkindled, and I will strike you with the
sword, and your wives shall be widows, and your children fatherless.
22:25. If thou lend money to any of my people that is poor, that
dwelleth with thee, thou shalt not be hard upon them as an extortioner,
nor oppress them with usuries.
22:26. If thou take of thy neighbour a garment in pledge, thou shalt
give it him again before sunset.
22:27. For that same is the only thing, wherewith he is covered, the
clothing of his body, neither hath he any other to sleep in:  if he cry
to me, I will hear him, because I am compassionate.
22:28. Thou shalt not speak ill of the gods, and the prince of thy
people thou shalt not curse.
22:29. Thou shalt not delay to pay thy tithes and thy firstfruits:  thou
shalt give the firstborn of thy sons to me.
22:30. Thou shalt do the same with the firstborn of thy oxen also and
sheep:  seven days let it be with its dam:  the eighth day thou shalt
give it to me.
22:31. You shall be holy men to me:  the flesh that beasts have tasted
of before, you shall not eat, but shall cast it to the dogs.
Exodus Chapter 23
Laws for judges; the rest of the seventh year, and day:  three principal
feasts to be solemnized every year; the promise of an angel, to conduct
and protect them:  idols are to be destroyed.
23:1. Thou shalt not receive the voice of a lie:  neither shalt thou
join thy hand to bear false witness for a wicked person.
23:2. Thou shalt not follow the multitude to do evil:  neither shalt
thou yield in judgment, to the opinion of the most part, to stray from
23:3. Neither shalt thou favour a poor man in judgment.
23:4. If thou meet thy enemy's ox or ass going astray, bring it back to
23:5. If thou see the ass of him that hateth thee lie underneath his
burden, thou shalt not pass by, but shalt lift him up with him.
23:6. Thou shalt not go aside in the poor man's judgment.
23:7. Thou shalt fly lying.  The innocent and just person thou shalt not
put to death:  because I abhor the wicked.
23:8. Neither shalt thou take bribes, which even blind the wise, and
pervert the words of the just.
23:9. Thou shalt not molest a stranger, for you know the hearts of
strangers:  for you also were strangers in the land of Egypt.
23:10. Six years thou shalt sow thy ground, and shalt gather the corn
23:11. But the seventh year thou shalt let it alone, and suffer it to
rest, that the poor of thy people may eat, and whatsoever shall be
left, let the beasts of the field eat it:  so shalt thou do with thy
vineyard and thy oliveyard.
23:12. Six days thou shalt work:  the seventh day thou shalt cease, that
thy ox and thy ass may rest:  and the son of thy handmaid and the
stranger may be refreshed.
23:13. Keep all things that I have said to you.  And by the name of
strange gods you shall not swear, neither shall it be heard out of your
23:14. Three times every year you shall celebrate feasts to me.
23:15. Thou shalt keep the feast of unleavened bread.  Seven days shalt
thou eat unleavened bread, as I commanded thee, in the time of the
month of new corn, when thou didst come forth out of Egypt:  thou shalt
not appear empty before me.
23:16. And the feast of the harvest of the firstfruits of thy work,
whatsoever thou hast sown in the field.  The feast also in the end of
the year, when thou hast gathered in all thy corn out of the field.
23:17. Thrice a year shall all thy males appear before the Lord thy
23:18. Thou shalt not sacrifice the blood of my victim upon leaven,
neither shall the fat of my solemnity remain until the morning.
23:19. Thou shalt carry the first-fruits of the corn of thy ground to
the house of the Lord thy God.  Thou shalt not boil a kid in the milk of
23:20. Behold I will send my angel, who shall go before thee, and keep
thee in thy journey, and bring thee into the place that I have
23:21. Take notice of him, and hear his voice, and do not think him one
to be contemned:  for he will not forgive when thou hast sinned, and my
name is in him.
23:22. But if thou wilt hear hi voice, and do all that I speak, I will
be an enemy to thy enemies, and will afflict them that afflict thee.
23:23. And my angel shall go before thee, and shall bring thee in unto
the Amorrhite, and the Hethite, and the Pherexite, and the Chanaanite,
and the Hevite, and the Jebuzite, whom I will destroy.
23:24. Thou shalt not adore their gods, nor serve them.  Thou shalt not
do their works, but shalt destroy them, and break their statues.
23:25. And you shall serve the Lord your God, that I may bless your
bread and your waters, and may take away sickness from the midst of
23:26. There shall not be one fruitless nor barren in thy land:  I will
fill the number of thy days.
23:27. I will send my fear before thee, and will destroy all the people
to whom thou shalt come:  and will turn the backs of all thy enemies
before thee:
23:28. Sending out hornets before, that shall drive away the Hevite,
and the Chanaanite, and the Hethite, before thou come in.
23:29. I will not cast them out from thy face in one year; lest the
land be brought into a wilderness, and the beasts multiply against
23:30. By little and little I will drive them out from before thee,
till thou be increased, and dost possess the land.
23:31. And I will set thy bounds from the Red Sea to the sea of the
Palestines, and from the desert to the river:  I will deliver the
inhabitants of the land into your hands, and will drive them out from
23:32. Thou shalt not enter into league with them, nor with their gods.
23:33. Let them not dwell in thy land, lest perhaps they make thee sin
against me, if thou serve their gods; which, undoubtedly, will be a
scandal to thee.
Exodus Chapter 24
Moses writeth his law; and after offering sacrifices, sprinkleth the
blood of the testament upon the people:  then goeth up the mountain
which God covereth with a fiery cloud.
24:1. And he said to Moses:  Come up to the Lord, thou, and Aaron, Nadab
and Abiu, and seventy of the ancients of Israel, and you shall adore
24:2. And Moses alone shall come up to the Lord, but they shall not
come nigh; neither shall the people come up with him.
24:3. So Moses came and told the people all the words of the Lord, and
all the judgments:  and all the people answered with one voice:  We will
do all the words of the Lord, which he hath spoken.
24:4. And Moses wrote all the words of the Lord:  and rising in the
morning, he built an altar at the foot of the mount, and twelve titles
according to the twelve tribes of Israel.
Titles. . .That is, pillars.
24:5. And he sent young men of the children of Israel, and they offered
holocausts, and sacrificed pacific victims of calves to the Lord.
Holocausts. . .Whole burnt offerings, in which the whole sacrifice was
consumed with fire upon the altar.
24:6. Then Moses took half of the blood, and put it into bowls; and the
rest he poured upon the altar.
24:7. And taking the book of the covenant, he read it in the hearing of
the people:  and they said:  All things that the Lord hath spoken, we
will do, we will be obedient.
24:8. And he took the blood and sprinkled it upon the people, and he
said:  This is the blood of the covenant, which the Lord hath made with
you concerning all these words.
24:9. Then Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abiu, and seventy of the ancients
of Israel went up:
24:10. And they saw the God of Israel:  and under his feet as it were a
work of sapphire stone, and as the heaven, when clear.
24:11. Neither did he lay his hand upon those of the children of
Israel, that retired afar off, and they saw God, and they did eat and
24:12. And the Lord said to Moses:  Come up to me into the mount, and be
there; and I will give thee tables of stone, and the law, and the
commandments which I have written; that thou mayest teach them.
24:13. Moses rose up, and his minister Josue:  and Moses going up into
the mount of God,
24:14. Said to the ancients:  Wait ye here till we return to you.  You
have Aaron and Hur with you:  if any question shall arise, you shall
refer it to them.
24:15. And when Moses was gone up, a cloud covered the mount.
24:16. And the glory of the Lord dwelt upon Sinai, covering it with a
cloud six days:  and the seventh day he called him out of the midst of
24:17. And the sight of the glory of the Lord, was like a burning fire
upon the top of the mount, in the eyes of the children of Israel.
24:18. And Moses entering into the midst of the cloud, went up into the
mountain:  And he was there forty days and forty nights.
Exodus Chapter 25
Offerings prescribed for making the tabernacle, the ark, the
candlestick, etc.
25:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
25:2. Speak to the children of Israel, that they bring firstfruits to
me:  of every man that offereth of his own accord, you shall take them.
Firstfruits. . .Offerings of some of the best and choicest of their
25:3. And these are the things you must take:  Gold, and silver, and
25:4. Violet and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine linen, and
goats' hair,
25:5. And rams' skins dyed red, and violet skins, and setim wood:
Setim wood. . .The wood of a tree that grows in the wilderness, which is
said to be incorruptible.
25:6. Oil to make lights:  spices for ointment, and for sweetsmelling
25:7. Onyx stones, and precious stones to adorn the ephod and the
The ephod and the rational. . .The ephod was the high priest's upper
vestment; and the rational his breastplate, in which were twelve gems,
25:8. And they shall make me a sanctuary, and I will dwell in the midst
25:9. According to all the likeness of the tabernacle which I will shew
thee, and of all the vessels for the service thereof:  and thus you
shall make it:
25:10. Frame an ark of setim wood, the length whereof shall be of two
cubits and a half; the breadth, a cubit and a half; the height,
likewise, a cubit and a half.
25:11. And thou shalt overlay it with the purest gold, within and
without; and over it thou shalt make a golden crown round about:
25:12. And four golden rings, which thou shalt put at the four corners
of the ark:  let two rings be on the one side, and two on the other.
25:13. Thou shalt make bars also of setim wood, and shalt overlay them
25:14. And thou shalt put them in through the rings that are in the
sides of the ark, that it may be carried on them:
25:15. And they shall be always in the rings, neither shall they at any
time be drawn out of them.
25:16. And thou shalt put in the ark the testimony which I will give
25:17. Thou shalt make also a propitiatory of the purest gold:  the
length thereof shall be two cubits and a half, and the breadth a cubit
A propitiatory. . .a covering for the ark:  called a propitiatory, or
mercy seat, because the Lord, who was supposed to sit there upon the
wings of the cherubims, with the ark for his footstool, from thence
shewed mercy.  It is also called the oracle, ver. 18 and 20; because
from thence God gave his orders and his answers.
25:18. Thou shalt make also two cherubims of beaten gold, on the two
sides of the oracle.
25:19. Let one cherub be on the one side, and the other on the other.
25:20. Let them cover both sides of the propitiatory, spreading their
wings, and covering the oracle, and let them look one towards the
other, their faces being turned towards the propitiatory wherewith the
ark is to be covered.
25:21. In which thou shalt put the testimony that I will give thee.
25:22. Thence will I give orders, and will speak to thee over the
propitiatory, and from the midst of the two cherubims, which shall be
upon the ark of the testimony, all things which I will command the
children of Israel by thee.
25:23. Thou shalt make a table also of setim wood, of two cubits in
length, and a cubit in breadth, and a cubit and a half in height.
A table. . .On which were to be placed the twelve loaves of proposition:
or, as they are called in the Hebrew, the face bread, because they were
always to stand before the face of the Lord in his temple:  as a figure
of the eucharistic sacrifice and sacrament, in the church of Christ.
25:24. And thou shalt overlay it with the purest gold:  and thou shalt
make to it a golden ledge round about.
25:25. And to the ledge itself a polished crown, four inches high; and
over the same another little golden crown.
25:26. Thou shalt prepare also four golden rings, and shalt put them in
the four corners of the same table, over each foot.
25:27. Under the crown shall the golden rings be, that the bars may be
put through them, and the table may be carried.
25:28. The bars also themselves thou shalt make of setim wood, and
shalt overlay them with gold, to bear up the table.
25:29. Thou shalt prepare also dishes, and bowls, censers, and cups,
wherein the libations are to be offered, of the purest gold.
Libations. . .That is, drink offerings.
25:30. And thou shalt set upon the table loaves of proposition in my
sight always.
25:31. Thou shalt make also a candlestick of beaten work, of the finest
gold, the shaft thereof, and the branches, the cups, and the bowls, and
the lilies going forth from it.
A candlestick. . .This candlestick, with its seven lamps, which was
always to give light in the house of God, was a figure of the light of
the Holy Ghost, and his sevenfold grace, in the sanctuary of the church
25:32. Six branches shall come out of the sides, three out of one side,
and three out of the other.
25:33. Three cups as it were nuts to every branch, and a bowl withal,
and a lily:  and three cups likewise of the fashion of nuts in the other
branch, and a bowl withal, and a lily.  Such shall be the work of the
six branches, that are to come out from the shaft:
25:34. And in the candlestick itself shall be four cups in the manner
of a nut, and at every one bowls and lilies.
25:35. Bowls under two branches in three places, which together make
six, coming forth out of one shaft.
25:36. And both the bowls and the branches shall be of the same beaten
work of the purest gold.
25:37. Thou shalt make also seven lamps, and shalt set them upon the
candlestick, to give light over against.
25:38. The snuffers also, and where the snuffings shall be put out,
shall be made of the purest gold.
25:39. The whole weight of the candlestick, with all the furniture
thereof, shall be a talent of the purest gold.
25:40. Look, and make it according to the pattern that was shewn thee
in the mount.
Exodus Chapter 26
The form of the tabernacle with its appurtenances.
26:1. And thou shalt make the tabernacle in this manner:  Thou shalt
make ten curtains of fine twisted linen, and violet and purple, and
scarlet twice dyed, diversified with embroidery.
26:2. The length of one curtain shall be twenty-eight cubits; the
breadth shall be four cubits.  All the curtains shall be of one measure.
26:3. Five curtains shall be joined one to another, and the other five
shall be coupled together in like manner.
26:4. Thou shalt make loops of violet in the sides and tops of the
curtains, that they may be joined one to another.
26:5. Every curtain shall have fifty loops on both sides, so set on,
that one loop may be against another loop, and one may be fitted to the
26:6. Thou shalt make also fifty rings of gold, wherewith the veils of
the curtains are to be joined, that it may be made one tabernacle.
26:7. Thou shalt make also eleven curtains of goats' hair, to cover the
top of the tabernacle.
26:8. The length of one hair-curtain shall be thirty cubits; and the
breadth, four:  the measure of all the curtains shall be equal.
26:9. Five of which thou shalt couple by themselves, and the six others
thou shalt couple one to another, so as to double the sixth curtain in
the front of the roof.
26:10. Thou shalt make also fifty loops in the edge of one curtain,
that it may be joined with the other:  and fifty loops in the edge of
the other curtain, that it may be coupled with its fellow.
26:11. Thou shalt make also fifty buckles of brass, wherewith the loops
may be joined, that of all there may be made one covering.
26:12. And that which shall remain of the curtains, that are prepared
for the roof, to wit, one curtain that is over and above, with the half
thereof thou shalt cover the back parts of the tabernacle.
26:13. And there shall hang down a cubit on the one side, and another
on the other side, which is over and above in the length of the
curtains, fencing both sides of the tabernacle.
26:14. Thou shalt make also another cover to the roof of rams' skins
dyed red:  and over that again another cover of violet coloured skins.
26:15. Thou shalt make also the boards of the tabernacle standing
upright of setim wood.
26:16. Let every one of them be ten cubits in length, and in breadth
one cubit and a half.
26:17. In the sides of the boards shall be made two mortises, whereby
one board may be joined to another board:  and after this manner shall
all the boards be prepared.
26:18. Of which twenty shall be in the south side southward.
26:19. For which thou shalt cast forty sockets of silver, that under
every board may be put two sockets at the two corners.
26:20. In the second side also of the tabernacle that looketh to the
north, there shall be twenty boards,
26:21. Having forty sockets of silver, two sockets shall be put under
26:22. But on the west side of the tabernacle thou shalt make six
26:23. And again other two which shall be erected in the corners at the
back of the tabernacle.
26:24. And they shall be joined together from beneath unto the top, and
one joint shall hold them all.  The like joining shall be observed for
the two boards also that are to be put in the corners.
26:25. And they shall be in all eight boards, and their silver sockets
sixteen, reckoning two sockets for each board.
26:26. Thou shalt make also five bars of setim wood, to hold together
the boards on one side of the tabernacle.
26:27. And five others on the other side, and as many at the west side:
26:28. And they shall be put along by the midst of the boards, from one
end to the other.
26:29. The boards also themselves thou shalt overlay with gold, and
shalt cast rings of gold to be set upon them, for places for the bars
to hold together the boardwork:  which bars thou shalt cover with plates
26:30. And thou shalt rear up the tabernacle according to the pattern
that was shewn thee in the mount.
26:31. Thou shalt make also a veil of violet, and purple, and scarlet
twice dyed, and fine twisted linen, wrought with embroidered work and
goodly variety:
26:32. And thou shalt hang it up before four pillars of setim wood,
which themselves also shall be overlaid with gold, and shall have heads
of gold, but sockets of silver.
26:33. And the veil shall be hanged on with rings, and within it thou
shalt put the ark of the testimony, and the sanctuary and the holy of
the holies shall be divided with it.
The sanctuary, etc. . .That part of the tabernacle, which was without
the veil, into which the priests daily entered, is here called the
sanctuary, or holy place; that part which was within the veil, into
which no one but the high priest ever went, and he but once a year, is
called the holy of holies, (literally, the sanctuary of the
sanctuaries,) as being the most holy of all holy places.
26:34. And thou shalt set the propitiatory upon the ark of the
testimony, in the holy of holies.
26:35. And the table without the veil, and over against the table the
candlestick in the south side of the tabernacle:  for the table shall
stand in the north side.
26:36. Thou shalt make also a hanging in the entrance of the tabernacle
of violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine twisted linen
with embroidered work.
26:37. And thou shalt overlay with gold five pillars of setim wood,
before which the hanging shall be drawn:  their heads shall be of gold,
and the sockets of brass.
Exodus Chapter 27
The altar; and the court of the tabernacle with its hangings and
pillars.  Provision of oil for lamps.
27:1. Thou shalt make also an altar of setim wood, which shall be five
cubits long, and as many broad, that is four square, and three cubits
27:2. And there shall be horns at the four corners of the same:  and
thou shalt cover it with brass.
27:3. And thou shalt make for the uses thereof pans to receive the
ashes, and tongs and fleshhooks, and firepans:  all its vessels thou
shalt make of brass.
27:4. And a grate of brass in manner of a net; at the four corners of
which, shall be four rings of brass,
27:5. Which thou shalt put under the hearth of the altar:  and the grate
shall be even to the midst of the altar.
27:6. Thou shalt make also two bars for the altar, of setim wood, which
thou shalt cover with plates of brass:
27:7. And thou shalt draw them through rings, and they shall be on both
sides of the altar to carry it.
27:8. Thou shalt not make it solid, but empty and hollow in the inside,
as it was shewn thee in the mount.
27:9. Thou shalt make also the court of the tabernacle, in the south
side whereof southward there shall be hangings of fine twisted linen of
a hundred cubits long for one side.
27:10. And twenty pillars with as many sockets of brass, the heads of
which, with their engraving, shall be of silver.
27:11. In like manner also on the north side there shall be hangings of
a hundred cubits long, twenty pillars, and as many sockets of brass,
and their heads with their engraving of silver.
27:12. But in the breadth of the court, that looketh to the west, there
shall be hangings of fifty cubits, and ten pillars, and as many
27:13. In that breadth also of the court, which looketh to the east,
there shall be fifty cubits.
27:14. In which there shall be for one side, hangings of fifteen
cubits, and three pillars, and as many sockets.
27:15. And in the other side, there shall be hangings of fifteen
cubits, with three pillars, and as many sockets.
27:16. And in the entrance of the court there shall be made a hanging
of twenty cubits of violet and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine
twisted linen, with embroidered work:  it shall have four pillars, with
as many sockets.
27:17. All the pillars of the court round about shall be garnished with
plates of silver, silver heads, and sockets of brass.
27:18. In length the court shall take up a hundred cubits, in breadth
fifty, the height shall be of five cubits, and it shall be made of fine
twisted linen, and shall have sockets of brass.
27:19. All the vessels of the tabernacle for all uses and ceremonies,
and the pins both of it and of the court, thou shalt make of brass.
27:20. Command the children of Israel that they bring thee the purest
oil of the olives, and beaten with a pestle:  that a lamp may burn
27:21. In the tabernacle of the testimony, without the veil that hangs
before the testimony.  And Aaron and his sons shall order it, that it
may give light before the Lord until the morning.  It shall be a
perpetual observance throughout their successions among the children of
Exodus Chapter 28
The holy vestments for Aaron and his sons.
28:1. Take unto thee also Aaron thy brother with his sons, from among
the children of Israel, that they may minister to me in the priest's
office:  Aaron, Nadab, and Abiu, Eleazar, and Ithamar.
28:2. And thou shalt make a holy vesture for Aaron, thy brother, for
glory and for beauty.
28:3. And thou shalt speak to all the wise of heart, whom I have filled
with the spirit of wisdom, that they may make Aaron's vestments, in
which he being consecrated, may minister to me.
28:4. And these shall be the vestments that they shall make:  A rational
and an ephod, a tunic and a strait linen garment, a mitre and a girdle.
They shall make the holy vestments for thy brother Aaron and his sons,
that they may do the office of priesthood unto me.
28:5. And they shall take gold, and violet, and purple, and scarlet
twice dyed, and fine linen.
28:6. And they shall make the ephod of gold, and violet, and purple,
and scarlet twice dyed, and fine twisted linen, embroidered with divers
28:7. It shall have the two edges joined in the top on both sides, that
they may be closed together.
28:8. The very workmanship also, and all the variety of the work, shall
be of gold, and violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine
twisted linen.
28:9. And thou shalt take two onyx stones, and shalt grave on them the
names of the children of Israel:
28:10. Six names on one stone, and the other six on the other,
according to the order of their birth.
28:11. With the work of an engraver, and the graving of a jeweller,
thou shalt engrave them with the names of the children of Israel, set
in gold and compassed about:
28:12. And thou shalt put them in both sides of the ephod, a memorial
for the children of Israel.  And Aaron shall bear their names before the
Lord upon both shoulders, for a remembrance.
28:13. Thou shalt make also hooks of gold.
28:14. And two little chains of the purest gold, linked one to another,
which thou shalt put into the hooks.
28:15. And thou shalt make the rational of judgment with embroidered
work of divers colours, according to the workmanship of the ephod, of
gold, violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine twisted
The rational of judgment. . .This part of the priest's attire, which he
wore at his breast, was called the rational of judgment; partly because
it admonished both priest and people of their duty to God, by carrying
the names of all their tribes in his presence; and by the Urim and the
Thummim, that is, doctrine and truth, which were written upon it; and
partly because it gave divine answers and oracles, as if it were
rational and endowed with judgment.
28:16. It shall be four square and doubled:  it shall be the measure of
a span both in length and in breadth.
28:17. And thou shalt set in it four rows of stones .  In the first row
shall be a sardius stone, and a topaz, and an emerald:
28:18. In the second a carbuncle, a sapphire, and a jasper:
28:19. In the third a ligurius, an agate, and an amethyst:
28:20. In the fourth a chrysolite, an onyx, and a beryl.  They shall be
set in gold by their rows.
28:21. And they shall have the names of the children of Israel:  with
twelve names shall they be engraved, each stone with the name of one
according to the twelve tribes.
28:22. And thou shalt make on the rational chains, linked one to
another, of the purest gold:
28:23. And two rings of gold, which thou shalt put in the two ends at
the top of the rational.
28:24. And the golden chains thou shalt join to the rings, that are in
the ends thereof.
28:25. And the ends of the chains themselves, thou shalt join together
with two hooks, on both sides of the ephod, which is towards the
28:26. Thou shalt make also two rings of gold, which thou shalt put in
the top parts of the rational, in the borders that are over against the
ephod, and look towards the back parts thereof.
28:27. Moreover also other two rings of gold, which are to be set on
each side of the ephod beneath, that looketh towards the nether
joining, that the rational may be fitted with the ephod,
28:28. And may be fastened by the rings thereof unto the rings of the
ephod with a violet fillet, that the joining artificially wrought may
continue, and the rational and the ephod may not be loosed one from the
28:29. And Aaron shall bear the names of the children of Israel in the
rational of judgment upon his breast, when he shall enter into the
sanctuary, a memorial before the Lord for ever.
28:30. And thou shalt put in the rational of judgment doctrine and
truth, which shall be on Aaron's breast, when he shall go in before the
Lord:  and he shall bear the judgment of the children of Israel on his
breast, in the sight of the Lord always.
Doctrine and Truth. . .Hebrew, Urim and Thummim:  illuminations and
perfections.  These words, written on the rational, seem to signify the
light of doctrine and the integrity of life, with which the priests of
God ought to approach him.
28:31. And thou shalt make the tunic of the ephod all of violet,
28:32. In the midst whereof above shall be a hole for the head, and a
border round about it woven, as is wont to be made in the outmost parts
of garments, that it may not easily be broken.
28:33. And beneath at the feet of the same tunic, round about, thou
shalt make as it were pomegranates, of violet, and purple, and scarlet
twice dyed, with little bells set between:
28:34. So that there shall be a golden bell and a pomegranate, and
again another golden bell and a pomegranate.
28:35. And Aaron shall be vested with it in the office of his ministry,
that the sound may be heard, when he goeth in and cometh out of the
sanctuary, in the sight of the Lord, and that he may not die.
28:36. Thou shalt make also a plate of the purest gold:  wherein thou
shalt grave with engraver's work, Holy to the Lord.
28:37. And thou shalt tie it with a violet fillet, and it shall be upon
28:38. Hanging over the forehead of the high priest.  And Aaron shall
bear the iniquities of those things, which the children of Israel have
offered and sanctified, in all their gifts and offerings.  And the plate
shall be always on his forehead, that the Lord may be well pleased with
28:39. And thou shalt gird the tunic with fine linen, and thou shalt
make a fine linen mitre, and a girdle of embroidered work.
28:40. Moreover, for the sons of Aaron thou shalt prepare linen tunics,
and girdles and mitres for glory and beauty:
28:41. And with all these things thou shalt vest Aaron thy brother, and
his sons with him.  And thou shalt consecrate the hands of them all, and
shalt sanctify them, that they may do the office of priesthood unto me.
28:42. Thou shalt make also linen breeches, to cover the flesh of their
nakedness, from the reins to the thighs:
28:43. And Aaron and his sons shall use them when they shall go into
the tabernacle of the testimony, or when they approach to the altar to
minister in the sanctuary.  lest being guilty of iniquity they die.  It
shall be a law for ever to Aaron, and to his seed after him.
Exodus Chapter 29
The manner of consecrating Aaron and other priests; the institution of
the daily sacrifice of two lambs, one in the morning, the other at
29:1. And thou shalt also do this, that they may be consecrated to me
in priesthood.  Take a calf from the herd, and two rams without blemish,
29:2. And unleavened bread, and a cake without leaven, tempered with
oil, wafers also unleavened, anointed with oil:  thou shalt make them
all of wheaten flour.
29:3. And thou shalt put them in a basket, and offer them:  and the calf
and the two rams.
29:4. And thou shalt bring Aaron and his sons to the door of the
tabernacle of the testimony.  And when thou hast washed the father and
his sons with water,
29:5. Thou shalt clothe Aaron with his vestments, that is, with the
linen garment and the tunic, and the ephod and the rational, which thou
shalt gird with the girdle.
29:6. And thou shalt put the mitre upon his head, and the holy plate
upon the mitre,
29:7. And thou shalt pour the oil of unction upon his head:  and by this
rite shall he be consecrated.
29:8. Thou shalt bring his sons also, and shalt put on them the linen
tunics, and gird them with a girdle:
29:9. To wit, Aaron and his children, and thou shalt put mitres upon
them; and they shall be priests to me by a perpetual ordinance.  After
thou shalt have consecrated their hands,
29:10. Thou shalt present also the calf before the tabernacle of the
testimony.  And Aaron and his sons shall lay their hands upon his head,
29:11. And thou shalt kill him in the sight of the Lord, beside the
door of the tabernacle of the testimony.
29:12. And taking some of the blood of the calf, thou shalt put it upon
the horns of the altar with thy finger, and the rest of the blood thou
shalt pour at the bottom thereof.
29:13. Thou shalt take also all the fat that covereth the entrails, and
the caul of the liver, and the two kidneys, and the fat that is upon
them, and shalt offer a burn offering upon the altar:
29:14. But the flesh of the calf, and the hide and the dung, thou shalt
burn abroad, without the camp, because it is for sin.
29:15. Thou shalt take also one ram, upon the head whereof Aaron and
his sons shall lay their hands.
29:16. And when thou hast killed him, thou shalt take of the blood
thereof, and pour round about the altar.
29:17. And thou shalt cut the ram in pieces, and having washed his
entrails and feet, thou shalt put them upon the flesh that is cut in
pieces, and upon his head.
29:18. And thou shalt offer the whole ram for a burnt offering upon the
altar:  it is an oblation to the Lord, a most sweet savour of the victim
of the Lord.
29:19. Thou shalt take also the other ram, upon whose head Aaron and
his sons shall lay their hands.
29:20. And when thou hast sacrificed him, thou shalt take of his blood,
and put upon the tip of the right ear of Aaron and of his sons, and
upon the thumbs and great toes of their right hand and foot, and thou
shalt pour the blood upon the altar round about.
29:21. And when thou hast taken of the blood that is upon the altar,
and of the oil of unction, thou shalt sprinkle Aaron and his vesture,
his sons and their vestments.  And after they and their vestments are
consecrated,
29:22. Thou shalt take the fat of the ram, and the rump, and the fat
that covereth the lungs, and the caul of the liver, and the two
kidneys, and the fat that is upon them, and the right shoulder, because
it is the ram of consecration:
29:23. And one roll of bread, a cake tempered with oil, a wafer out of
the basket of unleavened bread, which is set in the sight of the Lord:
29:24. And thou shalt put all upon the hands of Aaron and of his sons,
and shalt sanctify them elevating before the Lord.
29:25. And thou shalt take all from their hands; and shalt burn them
upon the altar for a holocaust, a most sweet savour in the sight of the
Lord, because it is his oblation.
29:26. Thou shalt take also the breast of the ram, wherewith Aaron was
consecrated, and elevating it thou shalt sanctify it before the Lord,
and it shall fall to thy share.
29:27. And thou shalt sanctify both the consecrated breast, and the
shoulder that thou didst separate of the ram,
29:28. Wherewith Aaron was consecrated and his sons, and they shall
fall to Aaron's share, and his sons', by a perpetual right from the
children of Israel:  because they are the choicest and the beginnings of
their peace victims which they offer to the Lord.
29:29. And the holy vesture, which Aaron shall use, his sons shall have
after him, that they may be anointed, and their hands consecrated in
29:30. He of his sons that shall be appointed high priest in his stead,
and that shall enter into the tabernacle of the testimony to minister
in the sanctuary, shall wear it seven days.
29:31. And thou shalt take the ram of the consecration, and shalt boil
the flesh thereof in the holy place:
29:32. And Aaron and his sons shall eat it.  The loaves also, that are
in the basket, they shall eat in the entry of the tabernacle of the
29:33. That it may be an atoning sacrifice, and the hands of the
offerers may be sanctified.  A stranger shall not eat of them, because
they are holy.
29:34. And if there remain of the consecrated flesh, or of the bread,
till the morning, thou shalt burn the remainder with fire:  they shall
not be eaten, because they are sanctified.
29:35. All that I have commanded thee, thou shalt do unto Aaron and his
sons.  Seven days shalt thou consecrate their hands:
29:36. And thou shalt offer a calf for sin every day for expiation.  And
thou shalt cleanse the altar when thou hast offered the victim of
expiation, and shalt anoint it to sanctify it.
29:37. Seven days shalt thou expiate the altar and sanctify it, and it
shall be most holy.  Every one, that shall touch it, shall be holy.
29:38. This is what thou shalt sacrifice upon the altar:  Two lambs of a
year old every day continually,
29:39. One lamb in the morning, and another in the evening.
29:40. With one lamb a tenth part of flour tempered with beaten oil, of
the fourth part of a hin, and wine for libation of the same measure.
29:41. And the other lamb thou shalt offer in the evening, according to
the rite of the morning oblation, and according to what we have said,
for a savour of sweetness:
29:42. It is a sacrifice to the Lord, by perpetual oblation unto your
generations, at the door of the tabernacle of the testimony before the
Lord, where I will appoint to speak unto thee.
29:43. And there will I command the children of Israel, and the altar
shall be sanctified by my glory.
29:44. I will sanctify also the tabernacle of the testimony with the
altar, and Aaron with his sons, to do the office of priesthood unto me.
29:45. And I will dwell in the midst of the children of Israel, and
will be their God:
29:46. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God, who have
brought them out of the land of Egypt, that I might abide among them, I
the Lord their God.
Exodus Chapter 30
The altar of incense:  money to be gathered for the use of the
tabernacle:  the brazen laver:  the holy oil of unction, and the
composition of the perfume.
30:1. Thou shalt make also an altar to burn incense, of setim wood.
An altar to burn incense. . .This burning of incense was an emblem of
prayer, ascending to God from an inflamed heart.  See Ps. 140.2; Apoc.
5.8, and 8.4.
30:2. It shall be a cubit in length, and another in breadth, that is,
four square, and two in height.  Horns shall go out of the same.
30:3. And thou shalt overlay it with the purest gold, as well the grate
thereof, as the walls round about, and the horns.  And thou shalt make
to it a crown of gold round about,
30:4. And two golden rings under the crown on either side, that the
bars may be put into them, and the altar be carried.
30:5. And thou shalt make the bars also of setim wood, and shalt
overlay them with gold.
30:6. And thou shalt set the altar over against the veil, that hangeth
before the ark of the testimony before the propitiatory wherewith the
testimony is covered, where I will speak to thee.
30:7. And Aaron shall burn sweet smelling incense upon it in the
morning.  When he shall dress the lamps, he shall burn it:
30:8. And when he shall place them in the evening, he shall burn an
everlasting incense before the Lord throughout your generations.
30:9. You shall not offer upon it incense of another composition, nor
oblation, and victim, neither shall you offer libations.
30:10. And Aaron shall pray upon the horns thereof once a year, with
the blood of that which was offered for sin; and shall make atonement
upon it in your generations.  It shall be most holy to the Lord.
30:11. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
30:12. When thou shalt take the sum of the children of Israel,
according to their number, every one of them shall give a price for
their souls to the Lord, and there shall be no scourge among them, when
they shall be reckoned.
30:13. And this shall every one give that passeth at the naming, half a
sicle according to the standard of the temple.  A sicle hath twenty
obols.  Half a sicle shall be offered to the Lord.
Half a sicle. . .A sicle or shekel of silver, (which was also called a
stater,) according to the standard or weight of the sanctuary, which
was the most just and exact, was half an ounce of silver, that is,
about half a crown of English money.  The obol, or gerah, was about
three halfpence.
30:14. He that is counted in the number from twenty years and upwards,
shall give the price.
30:15. The rich man shall not add to half a sicle, and the poor man
shall diminish nothing.
30:16. And the money received, which was contributed by the children of
Israel, thou shalt deliver unto the uses of the tabernacle of the
testimony, that it may be a memorial of them before the Lord, and he
may be merciful to their souls.
30:17. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
30:18. Thou shalt make also a brazen laver with its foot to wash in:
and thou shalt set it between the tabernacle of the testimony and the
altar.  And water being put into it:
30:19. Aaron and his sons shall wash their hands and feet in it:
30:20. When they are going into the tabernacle of the testimony, and
when they are to come to the altar, to offer on it incense to the Lord,
30:21. Lest perhaps they die.  It shall be an everlasting law to him,
and to his seed by successions.
30:22. And the Lord spoke to Moses,
30:23. Saying:  Take spices, of principal and chosen myrrh five hundred
sicles, and of cinnamon half so much; that is, two hundred and fifty
sicles, of calamus in like manner two hundred and fifty,
30:24. And of cassia five hundred sicles by the weight of the
sanctuary, of oil of olives the measure hin:
30:25. And thou shalt make the holy oil of unction, an ointment
compounded after the art of the perfumer,
30:26. And therewith thou shalt anoint the tabernacle of the testimony,
and the ark of the testament,
30:27. And the table with the vessels thereof, the candlestick and
furniture thereof, the altars of incense,
30:28. And of holocaust, and all the furniture that belongeth to the
service of them.
30:29. And thou shalt sanctify all, and they shall be most holy:  he
that shall touch them shall be sanctified.
30:30. Thou shalt anoint Aaron and his sons, and shalt sanctify them,
that they may do the office of priesthood unto me.
30:31. And thou shalt say to the children of Israel:  This oil of
unction shall be holy unto me throughout your generations.
30:32. The flesh of man shall not be anointed therewith, and you shall
make none other of the same composition, because it is sanctified, and
shall be holy unto you.
30:33. What man soever shall compound such, and shall give thereof to a
stranger, he shall be cut off from his people.
30:34. And the Lord said to Moses:  Take unto thee spices, stacte, and
onycha, galbanum of sweet savour, and the clearest frankincense, all
shall be of equal weight.
30:35. And thou shalt make incense compounded by the work of the
perfumer, well tempered together, and pure, and most worthy of
sanctification.
30:36. And when thou hast beaten all into very small powder, thou shalt
set of it before the tabernacle of the testimony, in the place where I
will appear to thee.  Most holy shall this incense be unto you.
30:37. You shall not make such a composition for your own uses, because
it is holy to the Lord.
30:38. What man soever shall make the like, to enjoy the smell thereof,
he shall perish out of his people.
Exodus Chapter 31
Beseleel and Ooliab are appointed by the Lord to make the tabernacle,
and the things belonging thereto.  The observation of the sabbath day is
again commanded.  And the Lord delivereth to Moses two tables written
with the finger of God.
31:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
31:2. Behold, I have called by name Beseleel the son of Uri, the son of
Hur, of the tribe of Juda,
31:3. And I have filled him with the spirit of God, with wisdom and
understanding, and knowledge in all manner of work,
31:4. To devise whatsoever may be artificially made of gold, and
silver, and brass,
31:5. Of marble, and precious stones, and variety of wood.
31:6. And I have given him for his companion Ooliab, the son of
Achisamech, of the tribe of Dan.  And I have put wisdom in the heart of
every skilful man, that they may make all things which I have commanded
31:7. The tabernacle of the covenant, and the ark of the testimony, and
the propitiatory, that is over it, and all the vessels of the
31:8. And the table and the vessels thereof, the most pure candlestick
with the vessels thereof, and the altars of incense,
31:9. And of holocaust, and all their vessels, the laver with its foot,
31:10. The holy vestments in the ministry for Aaron the priest, and for
his sons, that they may execute their office, about the sacred things:
31:11. The oil of unction, and the incense of spices in the sanctuary,
all things which I have commanded thee, shall they make.
31:12. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
31:13. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  See
that you keep my sabbath; because it is a sign between me and you in
your generations that you may know that I am the Lord, who sanctify
31:14. keep you my sabbath:  for it is holy unto you:  he that shall
profane it, shall be put to death:  he that shall do any work in it, his
soul shall perish out of the midst of his people.
31:15. Six days shall you do work:  in the seventh day is the sabbath,
the rest holy to the Lord.  Every one that shall do any work on this
day, shall die.
31:16. Let the children of Israel keep the sabbath, and celebrate it in
their generations.  It is an everlasting covenant
31:17. Between me and the children of Israel, and a perpetual sign.  For
in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and in the seventh he
ceased from work.
31:18. And the Lord, when he had ended these words in Mount Sinai, gave
to Moses two stone tables of testimony, written with the finger of God.
Exodus Chapter 32
The people fall into idolatry.  Moses prayeth for them.  He breaketh the
tables:  destroyeth the idol:  blameth Aaron, and causeth many of the
idolaters to be slain.
32:1. And the people seeing that Moses delayed to come down from the
mount, gathering together against Aaron, said:  Arise, make us gods,
that may go before us:  For as to this Moses, the man that brought us
out of the land of Egypt, we know not what has befallen him.
32:2. And Aaron said to them:  Take the golden earrings from the ears of
your wives, and your sons and daughters, and bring them to me.
32:3. And the people did what he had commanded, bringing the earrings
32:4. And when he had received them, he fashioned them by founders'
work, and made of them a molten calf.  And they said:  These are thy
gods, O Israel, that have brought thee out of the land of Egypt.
32:5. And when Aaron saw this, he built an altar before it, and made
proclamation by a crier's voice, saying To morrow is the solemnity of
32:6. And rising in the morning, they offered holocausts, and peace
victims, and the people sat down to eat and drink, and they rose up to
32:7. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:  Go, get thee down:  thy
people, which thou hast brought out of the land of Egypt, hath sinned.
32:8. They have quickly strayed from the way which thou didst shew
them:  and they have made to themselves a molten calf, and have adored
it, and sacrificing victims to it, have said:  These are thy gods, O
Israel, that have brought thee out of the land of Egypt.
32:9. And again the Lord said to Moses:  I see that this people is
stiffnecked:
32:10. Let me alone, that my wrath may be kindled against them, and
that I may destroy them, and I will make of thee a great nation.
32:11. But Moses besought the Lord his God, saying:  Why, O Lord, is thy
indignation enkindled against thy people, whom thou hast brought out of
the land of Egypt, with great power, and with a mighty hand?
32:12. Let not the Egyptians say, I beseech thee:  He craftily brought
them out, that he might kill them in the mountains, and destroy them
from the earth:  let thy anger cease, and be appeased upon the
wickedness of thy people.
32:13. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, thy servants, to whom thou
sworest by thy own self, saying:  I will multiply your seed as the stars
of heaven:  and this whole land that I have spoken of, I will give to
your seed, and you shall possess it for ever:
32:14. And the Lord was appeased from doing the evil which he had
spoken against his people.
32:15. And Moses returned from the mount, carrying the two tables of
the testimony in his hand, written on both sides,
32:16. And made by the work of God; the writing also of God was graven
in the tables.
32:17. And Josue hearing the noise of the people shouting, said to
Moses:  The noise of battle is heard in the camp.
32:18. But he answered:  It is not the cry of men encouraging to fight,
nor the shout of men compelling to flee:  but I hear the voice of
32:19. And when he came nigh to the camp, he saw the calf, and the
dances:  and being very angry, he threw the tables out of his hand, and
broke them at the foot of the mount:
32:20. And laying hold of the calf which they had made, he burnt it,
and beat it to powder, which he strewed into water, and gave thereof to
the children of Israel to drink.
32:21. And he said to Aaron:  What has this people done to thee, that
thou shouldst bring upon them a most heinous sin?
32:22. And he answered him:  Let not my lord be offended; for thou
knowest this people, that they are prone to evil.
32:23. They said to me:  make us gods, that may go before us; for as to
this Moses, who brought us forth out of the land of Egypt, we know not
what is befallen him.
32:24. And I said to them:  Which of you hath any gold?  and they took
and brought it to me; and I cast it into the fire, and this calf came
32:25. And when Moses saw that the people were naked, (for Aaron had
stripped them by occasion of the shame of the filth, and had set them
naked among their enemies)
Naked. . .Having lost not only their gold, and their honour, but what
was worst of all, being stripped also of the grace of God, and having
lost him.--The shame of the filth. . .That is, of the idol, which they
had taken for their god.  It is the usual phrase of the scripture to
call idols filth and abominations.
32:26. Then standing in the gate of the camp, he said:  If any man be on
the Lord's side, let him join with me.  And all the sons of Levi
gathered themselves together unto him:
32:27. And he said to them:  Thus saith the Lord God of Israel:  Put
every man his sword upon his thigh:  go, and return from gate to gate
through the midst of the camp, and let every man kill his brother, and
friend, and neighbour.
32:28. And the sons of Levi did according to the words of Moses, and
there were slain that day about three and twenty thousand men.
32:29. And Moses said:  You have consecrated your hands this day to the
Lord, every man in his son and in his brother, that a blessing may be
given to you.
32:30. And when the next day was come, Moses spoke to the people:  You
have sinned a very great sin:  I will go up to the Lord, if by any means
I may be able to entreat him for your crime.
32:31. And returning to the Lord, he said:  I beseech thee:  this people
hath sinned a heinous sin, and they have made to themselves gods of
gold:  either forgive them this trespass,
32:32. Or if thou do not, strike me out of the book that thou hast
32:33. And the Lord answered him:  He that hath sinned against me, him
will I strike out of my book:
32:34. But go thou, and lead this people whither I have told thee:  my
angel shall go before thee.  And I in the day of revenge will visit this
sin also of theirs.
32:35. The Lord therefore struck the people for the guilt, on occasion
of the calf which Aaron had made.
Exodus Chapter 33
The people mourn for their sin.  Moses pitcheth the tabernacle without
the camp.  He converseth familiarly with God.  Desireth to see his glory.
33:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:  Go, get thee up from this
place, thou and thy people which thou hast brought out of the land of
Egypt, into the land concerning which I swore to Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob, saying:  To thy seed I will give it:
33:2. And I will send an angel before thee, that I may cast out the
Chanaanite, and the Amorrhite, and the Hethite, and the Pherezite, and
the Hevite, and the Jebusite,
33:3. That thou mayst enter into the land that floweth with milk and
honey.  For I will not go up with thee, because thou art a stiffnecked
people; lest I destroy thee in the way.
33:4. And the people hearing these very bad tidings, mourned:  and no
man put on his ornaments according to custom.
33:5. And the Lord said to Moses:  Say to the children of Israel:  Thou
art a stiffnecked people, once I shall come up in the midst of thee,
and shall destroy thee.  Now presently lay aside thy ornaments, that I
may know what to do to thee.
33:6. So the children of Israel laid aside their ornaments by Mount
33:7. Moses also taking the tabernacle, pitched it without the camp
afar off, and called the name thereof, The tabernacle of the covenant.
And all the people, that had any question, went forth to the tabernacle
of the covenant, without the camp.
33:8. And when Moses went forth to the tabernacle, all the people rose
up, and every one stood in the door of his pavilion, and they beheld
the back of Moses, till he went into the tabernacle.
33:9. And when he was gone into the tabernacle of the covenant, the
pillar of the cloud came down, and stood at the door, and he spoke with
33:10. And all saw that the pillar of the cloud stood at the door of
the tabernacle.  And they stood and worshipped at the doors of their
33:11. And the Lord spoke to Moses face to face, as a man is wont to
speak to his friend.  And when he returned into the camp, his servant
Josue, the son of Nun, a young man, departed not from the tabernacle.
Face to face. . .That is, in a most familiar manner.  Though as we learn
from this very chapter, Moses could not see the face of the Lord.
33:12. And Moses said to the Lord:  Thou commandest me to lead forth
this people; and thou dost not let me know whom thou wilt send with me,
especially whereas thou hast said:  I know thee by name, and thou hast
found favour in my sight.
I know thee by name. . .In the language of the scriptures, God is said
to know such as he approves and loves:  and to know by name, those whom
he favours in a most singular manner, as he did his servant Moses.
33:13. If therefore I have found favour in thy sight, shew me thy face,
that I may know thee, and may find grace before thy eyes:  look upon thy
people this nation.
33:14. And the Lord said:  My face shall go before thee, and I will give
33:15. And Moses said:  If thou thyself dost not go before, bring us not
out of this place.
33:16. For how shall we be able to know, I and thy people, that we have
found grace in thy sight, unless thou walk with us, that we may be
glorified by all people that dwell upon the earth?
33:17. And the Lord said to Moses:  This word also, which thou hast
spoken, will I do; for thou hast found grace before me, and thee I have
known by name.
33:18. And he said:  Shew me thy glory.
33:19. He answered:  I will shew thee all good, and I will proclaim in
the name of the Lord before thee:  and I will have mercy on whom I will,
and I will be merciful to whom it shall please me.
33:20. And again he said:  Thou canst not see my face:  for man shall not
see me, and live.
33:21. And again he said:  Behold there is a place with me, and thou
shalt stand upon the rock.
33:22. And when my glory shall pass, I will set thee in a hole of the
rock, and protect thee with my righthand till I pass:
33:23. And I will take away my hand, and thou shalt see my back parts:
but my face thou canst not see.
See my back parts. . .The Lord by his angel, usually spoke to Moses in
the pillar of the cloud; so that he could not see the glory of him that
spoke familiarly with him.  In the vision here mentioned he was allowed
to see something of him, in an assumed corporeal form:  not in the face,
the rays of which were too bright for mortal eye to bear, but to view
him as it were behind, when his face was turned from him.
Exodus Chapter 34
The tables are renewed:  all society with the Chanaanites is forbid:
some precepts concerning the firstborn, the sabbath, and other feasts:
after forty days' fast, Moses returneth to the people with the
commandments, and his face appearing horned with rays of light, he
covereth it, whensoever he speaketh to the people.
34:1. And after this he said:  Hew thee two tables of stone like unto
the former, and I will write upon them the words, which were in the
tables, which thou brokest.
34:2. Be ready in the morning, that thou mayst forthwith go up into
Mount Sinai, and thou shalt stand with me upon the top of the mount.
34:3. Let no man go up with thee, and let not any man be seen
throughout all the mount; neither let the oxen nor the sheep feed over
34:4. Then he cut out two tables of stone, such as had been before; and
rising very early he went up into the Mount Sinai, as the Lord had
commanded him, carrying with him the tables.
34:5. And when the Lord was come down in a cloud, Moses stood with him,
calling upon the name of the Lord.
34:6. And when he passed before him, he said:  O the Lord, the Lord God,
merciful and gracious, patient and of much compassion, and true,
34:7. Who keepest mercy unto thousands:  who takest away iniquity, and
wickedness, and sin, and no man of himself is innocent before thee.  Who
renderest the iniquity of the fathers to the children, and to the
grandchildren unto the third and fourth generation.
34:8. And Moses making haste, bowed down prostrate unto the earth, and
34:9. Said:  If I have found grace in thy sight, O Lord, I beseech thee
that thou wilt go with us, (for it is a stiffnecked people) and take
away our iniquities and sin, and possess us.
34:10. The Lord answered:  I will make a covenant in the sight of all, I
will do signs such as were never seen upon the earth, nor in any
nations; that this people, in the midst of whom thou art, may see the
terrible work of the Lord which I will do.
34:11. Observe all things which this day I command thee:  I myself will
drive out before thy face the Amorrhite, and the Chanaanite, and the
Hethite, and the Pherezite, and the Hevite, and the Jebusite.
34:12. Beware thou never join in friendship with the inhabitants of
that land, which may be thy ruin:
34:13. But destroy their altars, break their statues and cut down their
34:14. Adore not any strange god.  The Lord his name is jealous, he is a
jealous God.
34:15. Make no covenant with the men of those countries; lest, when
they have committed fornication with their gods, and have adored their
idols, some one call thee to eat of the things sacrificed.
34:16. Neither shalt thou take of their daughters a wife for thy son,
lest after they themselves have committed fornication, they make thy
sons also to commit fornication with their gods.
34:17. Thou shalt not make to thyself any molten gods.
34:18:  Thou shalt keep the feast of the unleavened bread.  Seven days
shalt thou eat unleavened bread, as I commanded thee in the time of the
month of the new corn:  for in the month of the spring time thou camest
out from Egypt.
34:19. All of the male kind that openeth the womb, shall be mine.  Of
all beasts; both of oxen and of sheep, it shall be mine.
34:20. The firstling of an ass thou shalt redeem with a sheep:  but if
thou wilt not give a price for it, it shall be slain.  The firstborn of
thy sons thou shalt redeem:  neither shalt thou appear before me empty.
34:21. Six days shalt thou work, the seventh day thou shalt cease to
plough and to reap.
34:22. Thou shalt keep the feast of weeks with the firstfruits of the
corn of thy wheat harvest, and the feast when the time of the year
returneth that all things are laid in.
34:23. Three times in the year all thy males shall appear in the sight
of the almighty Lord the God of Israel.
34:24. For when I shall have taken away the nations from thy face, and
shall have enlarged thy borders, no man shall lie in wait against thy
land when thou shalt go up, and appear in the sight of the Lord thy God
thrice in a year.
34:25. Thou shalt not offer the blood of my sacrifice upon leaven;
neither shall there remain in the morning any thing of the victim of
the solemnity of the Phase.
34:26. The first of the fruits of thy ground thou shalt offer in the
house of the Lord thy God.  Thou shalt not boil a kid in the milk of his
34:27. And the Lord said to Moses:  Write thee these words, by which I
have made a covenant both with thee and with Israel.
34:28. And he was there with the Lord forty days and forty nights:  he
neither ate bread nor drank water, and he wrote upon the tables the ten
words of the covenant.
34:29. And when Moses came down from the Mount Sinai, he held the two
tables of the testimony, and he knew not that his face was horned from
the conversation of the Lord.
Horned. . .That is, shining, and sending forth rays of light like horns.
34:30. And Aaron and the children of Israel seeing the face of Moses
horned, were afraid to come near.
34:31. And being called by him, they returned, both Aaron and the
rulers of the congregation.  And after that he spoke to them,
34:32. And all the children of Israel came to him:  and he gave them in
commandment all that he had heard of the Lord on Mount Sinai.
34:33. And having done speaking, he put a veil upon his face.
34:34. But when he went in to the Lord, and spoke with him, he took it
away until he came forth, and then he spoke to the children of Israel
all things that had been commanded him.
34:35. And they saw that the face of Moses when he came out was horned,
but he covered his face again, if at any time he spoke to them.
Exodus Chapter 35
The sabbath.  Offerings for making the tabernacle.  Beseleel and Ooliab
are called to the work.
35:1. And all the multitude of the children of Israel being gathered
together, he said to them:  These are the things which the Lord hath
commanded to be done:
35:2. Six days you shall do work; the seventh day shall be holy unto
you, the sabbath and the rest of the Lord:  he that shall do any work on
it, shall be put to death.
35:3. You shall kindle no fire in any of your habitations on the
sabbath day.
35:4. And Moses said to all the assembly of the children of Israel:
This is the word the Lord hath commanded, saying:
35:5. Set aside with you firstfruits to the Lord.  Let every one that is
willing and hath a ready heart, offer them to the Lord:  gold, and
silver, and brass,
35:6. Violet and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and fine linen, goats'
35:7. And rams' skins dyed red, and violet coloured skins, setim wood,
35:8. And oil to maintain lights, and to make ointment, and most sweet
35:9. Onyx stones, and precious stones, for the adorning of the ephod
and the rational.
35:10. Whosoever of you is wise, let him come, and make that which the
Lord hath commanded:
35:11. To wit, the tabernacle, and the roof thereof, and the cover, the
rings, and the board-work with the bars, the pillars and the sockets:
35:12. The ark and the staves, the propitiatory, and the veil that is
drawn before it:
35:13. The table with the bars and the vessels, and the loaves of
proposition:
35:14. The candlestick to bear up the lights, the vessels thereof and
the lamps, and the oil for the nourishing of fires:
35:15. The altar of incense, and the bars, and the oil of unction, and
the incense of spices:  the hanging at the door of the tabernacle:
35:16. The altar of holocaust, and its grate of brass, with the bars
and vessels thereof:  the laver and its foot:
35:17. The curtains of the court, with the pillars and the sockets, the
hanging in the doors of the entry.
35:18. The pins of the tabernacle, and of the court, with their little
35:19. The vestments that are to be used in the ministry of the
sanctuary, the vesture of Aaron the high priest, and of his sons, to do
the office of priesthood to me.
35:20. And all the multitude of the children of Israel going out from
the presence of Moses,
35:21. Offered firstfruits to the Lord with a most ready and devout
mind, to make the work of the tabernacle of the testimony.  Whatever was
necessary to the service and to the holy vestments,
35:22. Both men and women gave bracelets and earrings, rings and
tablets:  every vessel of gold was set aside to be offered to the Lord.
35:23. If any man had violet, and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, fine
linen and goats' hair, ramskins dyed red, and violet coloured skins,
35:24. Metal of silver and brass, they offered it to the Lord, and
setim wood for divers uses.
35:25. The skilful women also gave such things as they had spun,
violet, purple, and scarlet, and fine linen,
35:26. And goats' hair, giving all of their own accord.
35:27. But the princes offered onyx stones, and precious stones, for
the ephod and the rational,
35:28. And spices and oil for the lights, and for the preparing of
ointment, and to make the incense of most sweet savour.
35:29. All, both men and women, with devout mind offered gifts, that
the works might be done which the Lord had commanded by the hand of
Moses.  All the children of Israel dedicated voluntary offerings to the
35:30. And Moses said to the children of Israel:  Behold, the Lord hath
called by name Beseleel, the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe
35:31. And hath filled him with the spirit of God, with wisdom and
understanding, and knowledge, and all learning,
35:32. To devise and to work in gold and silver and brass,
35:33. And in engraving stones, and in carpenters' work.  Whatsoever can
be devised artificially,
35:34. He hath given in his heart:  Ooliab also, the son of Achisamech,
of the tribe of Dan:
35:35. Both of them hath he instructed with wisdom, to do carpenters'
work, and tapestry, and embroidery in blue and purple, and scarlet
twice dyed, and fine linen, and to weave all things, and to invent all
Exodus Chapter 36
The offerings are delivered to the workmen, the curtains, coverings,
boards, bars, veil, pillars, and hanging are made.
36:1. Beseleel therefore, and Ooliab, and every wise man, to whom the
Lord gave wisdom and understanding, to know how to work artificially,
made the things that are necessary for the uses of the sanctuary, and
which the Lord commanded.
36:2. And when Moses had called them, and every skilful man, to whom
the Lord had given wisdom, and such as of their own accord had offered
themselves to the making of the work,
36:3. He delivered all the offerings of the children of Israel unto
them.  And while they were earnest about the work, the people daily in
the morning offered their vows.
36:4. Whereupon the workmen being constrained to come,
36:5. Said to Moses:  The people offereth more than is necessary.
36:6. Moses therefore commanded proclamation to be made by the crier's
voice:  Let neither man nor woman offer any more for the work of the
sanctuary.  And so they ceased from offering gifts,
36:7. Because the things that were offered did suffice, and were too
36:8. And all the men that were wise of heart, to accomplish the work
of the tabernacle, made ten curtains of twisted fine linen, and violet,
and purple, and scarlet twice dyed, with varied work, and the art of
embroidering:
36:9. The length of one curtain was twenty-eight cubits, and the
breadth four:  all the curtains were of the same size.
36:10. And he joined five curtains, one to another, and the other five
he coupled one to another.
36:11. He made also loops of violet in the edge of one curtain on both
sides, and in the edge of the other curtain in like manner,
36:12. That the loops might meet one against another, and might be
joined each with the other.
36:13. Whereupon also he cast fifty rings of gold, that might catch the
loops of the curtains, and they might be made one tabernacle.
36:14. He made also eleven curtains of goats' hair, to cover the roof
of the tabernacle:
36:15. One curtain was thirty cubits long, and four cubits broad:  all
the curtains were of one measure.
36:16. Five of which he joined apart, and the other six apart.
36:17. And he made fifty loops in the edge of one curtain, and fifty in
the edge of another curtain, that they might be joined one to another.
36:18. And fifty buckles of brass wherewith the roof might be knit
together, that of all the curtains there might be made one covering.
36:19. He made also a cover for the tabernacle of rams' skins dyed red;
and another cover over that of violet skins.
36:20. He made also the boards of the tabernacle of setim wood
36:21. The length of one board was ten cubits; and the breadth was one
cubit and a half.
36:22. There were two mortises throughout every board, that one might
be joined to the other.  And in this manner he made for all the boards
of the tabernacle.
36:23. Of which twenty were at the south side southward,
36:24. With forty sockets of silver, two sockets were put under one
board on the two sides of the corners, where the mortises of the sides
end in the corners.
36:25. At that side also of the tabernacle, that looketh towards the
north, he made twenty boards,
36:26. With forty sockets of silver, two sockets for every board.
36:27. But against the west, to wit, at that side of the tabernacle,
which looketh to the sea, he made six boards,
36:28. And two others at each corner of the tabernacle behind:
36:29. Which were also joined from beneath unto the top, and went
together into one joint.  Thus he did on both sides at the corners:
36:30. So there were in all eight boards, and they had sixteen sockets
of silver, to wit, two sockets under every board.
36:31. He made also bars of setim wood, five to hold together the
boards of one side of the tabernacle,
36:32. And five others to join together the boards of the other side;
and besides these, five other bars at the west side of the tabernacle
towards the sea.
36:33. He made also another bar, that might come by the midst of the
boards from corner to corner.
36:34. And the boards themselves he overlaid with gold casting for them
sockets of silver.  And their rings he made of gold, through which the
bars might be drawn:  and he covered the bars themselves with plates of
36:35. He made also a veil of violet, and purple, scarlet and fine
twisted linen, varied and distinguished with embroidery:
36:36. And four pillars of setim wood, which with their heads he
overlaid with gold, casting for them sockets of silver.
36:37. He made also a hanging in the entry of the tabernacle of violet,
purple, scarlet, and fine twisted linen, with the work of an
embroiderer.
36:38. And five pillars with their heads, which he covered with gold,
and their sockets he cast of brass.
Exodus Chapter 37
Beseleel maketh the ark:  the propitiatory, and cherubims, the table,
the candlestick, the lamps, and the altar of incense, and compoundeth
the incense.
37:1. And Beseleel made also, the ark of setim wood:  it was two cubits
and a half in length, and a cubit and a half in breadth, and the height
was of one cubit and a half:  and he overlaid it with the purest gold
within and without.
37:2. And he made to it a crown of gold round about,
37:3. Casting four rings of gold at the four corners thereof:  two rings
in one side, and two in the other.
37:4. And he made bars of setim wood, which he overlaid with gold,
37:5. And he put them into the rings that were at the sides of the ark
to carry it.
37:6. He made also the propitiatory, that is, the oracle, of the purest
gold, two cubits and a half in length, and a cubit and a half in
37:7. Two cherubims also of beaten gold, which he set on the two sides
of the propitiatory:
37:8. One cherub in the top of one side, and the other cherub in the
top of the other side:  two cherubims at the two ends of the
propitiatory,
37:9. Spreading their wings, and covering the propitiatory, and looking
one towards the other, and towards it.
37:10. He made also the table of setim wood, in length two cubits, and
in breadth one cubit, and in height it was a cubit and a half.
37:11. And he overlaid it with the finest gold, and he made to it a
golden ledge round about,
37:12. And to the ledge itself he made a polished crown of gold, of
four fingers breadth, and upon the same another golden crown.
37:13. And he cast four rings of gold, which he put in the four corners
at each foot of the table,
37:14. Over against the crown:  and he put the bars into them, that the
table might be carried.
37:15. The bars also themselves he made of setim wood, and overlaid
them with gold.
37:16. And the vessels for the divers uses of the table, dishes, bowls,
and cups, and censers of pure gold, wherein the libations are to be
37:17. He made also the candlestick of beaten work of the finest gold.
from the shaft whereof its branches, its cups, and bowls, and lilies
37:18:  Six on the two sides:  three branches on one side, and three on
37:19. Three cups in manner of a nut on each branch, and bowls withal
and lilies:  and three cups of the fashion of a nut in another branch,
and bowls withal and lilies.  The work of the six branches, that went
out from the shaft of the candlestick was equal.
37:20. And in the shaft itself were four cups after the manner of a
nut, and bowls withal at every one, and lilies:
37:21. And bowls under two branches in three places, which together
made six branches going out from one shaft.
37:22. So both the bowls, and the branches were of the same, all beaten
work of the purest gold.
37:23. He made also the seven lamps with their snuffers, and the
vessels where the snuffings were to be put out, of the purest gold.
37:24. The candlestick with all the vessels thereof weighed a talent of
37:25. He made also the alter of incense of setim wood, being a cubit
on every side foursquare, and in height two cubits:  from the corners of
which went out horns.
37:26. And he overlaid it with the purest gold, with its grate, and the
sides, and the horns.
37:27. And he made to it a crown of gold round about, and two golden
rings under the crown at each side, that the bars might be put into
them, and the altar be carried.
37:28. And the bars themselves he made also of setim wood, and overlaid
them with plates of gold.
37:29. He compounded also the oil for the ointment of sanctification,
and incense of the purest spices, according to the work of a perfumer.
Exodus Chapter 38
He maketh the altar of holocaust.  The brazen laver.  The court with its
pillars and hangings.  The sum of what the people offered.
38:1. He made also the altar of holocaust of setim wood, five cubits
square, and three in height:
38:2. The horns whereof went out from the corners, and he overlaid it
with plates of brass.
38:3. And for the uses thereof, he prepared divers vessels of brass,
cauldrons, tongs, fleshhooks, pothooks and firepans.
38:4. And he made the grate thereof of brass, in manner of a net, and
under it in the midst of the altar a hearth,
38:5. Casting four rings at the four ends of the net at the top, to put
in bars to carry it:
38:6. And he made the bars of setim wood, and overlaid them with plates
38:7. And he drew them through the rings that stood out in the sides of
the altar.  And the altar itself was not solid, but hollow, of boards,
and empty within.
38:8. He made also the laver of brass, with the foot thereof, of the
mirrors of the women that watched at the door of the tabernacle.
38:9. He made also the court, in the south side whereof were hangings
of fine twisted linen of a hundred cubits.
38:10. Twenty pillars of brass with their sockets, the beads of the
pillars, and the whole graving of the work, of silver.
38:11. In like manner at the north side the hangings, the pillars, and
the sockets and heads of the pillars were of the same measure, and work
38:12. But on that side that looketh to the west, there were hangings
of fifty cubits, ten pillars of brass with their sockets, and the heads
of the pillars, and all the graving of the work, of silver.
38:13. Moreover, towards the east he prepared hangings of fifty cubits:
38:14. Fifteen cubits of which, were on one side with three pillars,
and their sockets:
38:15. And on the other side (for between the two he made the entry of
the tabernacle) there were hangings equally of fifteen cubits, and
three pillars, and as many sockets.
38:16. All the hangings of the court were woven with twisted linen.
38:17. The sockets of the pillars were of brass, and their heads with
all their gravings of silver:  and he overlaid the pillars of the court
also with silver.
38:18. And he made in the entry thereof an embroidered hanging of
violet, purple, scarlet, and fine twisted linen, that was twenty cubits
long, and five cubits high, according to the measure of all the
hangings of the court.
38:19. And the pillars in the entry were four, with sockets of brass,
and their heads and gravings of silver.
38:20. The pins also of the tabernacle and of the court round about he
made of brass.
38:21. These are the instruments of the tabernacle of the testimony,
which were counted according to the commandment of Moses, in the
ceremonies of the Levites, by the hand of Ithamar, son of Aaron the
38:22. Which Beseleel, the son of Uri, the son of Hur of the tribe of
Juda, had made, as the Lord commanded by Moses.
38:23. Having for his companion Ooliab, the son of Achisamech, of the
tribe of Dan:  who also was an excellent artificer in wood, and worker
in tapestry and embroidery in violet, purple, scarlet, and fine linen.
38:24. All the gold that was spent in the work of the sanctuary, and
that was offered in gifts, was nine and twenty talents, and seven
hundred and thirty sicles according to the standard of the sanctuary.
38:25. And it was offered by them that went to be numbered, from twenty
years old and upwards, of six hundred and three thousand five hundred
and fifty men able to bear arms.
38:26. There were moreover a hundred talents of silver, whereof were
cast the sockets of the sanctuary, and of the entry where the veil
38:27. A hundred sockets were made of a hundred talents, one talent
being reckoned for every socket.
38:28. And of the thousand seven hundred and seventy-five he made the
heads of the pillars, which also he overlaid with silver.
38:29. And there were offered of brass also seventy-two thousand
talents, and four hundred sicles besides,
38:30. Of which were cast the sockets in the entry of the tabernacle of
the testimony, and the altar of brass with the grate thereof, and also
the vessels that belong to the use thereof.
38:31. And the sockets of the court as well round about as in the entry
thereof, and the pins of the tabernacle, and of the court round about.
Exodus Chapter 39
All the ornaments of Aaron and his sons are made.  And the whole work of
the tabernacle is finished.
39:1. And he made, of violet and purple, scarlet and fine linen, the
vestments for Aaron to wear when he ministered in the holy places, as
the Lord commanded Moses.
39:2. So he made an ephod of gold, violet, and purple, and scarlet
twice dyed, and fine twisted linen,
39:3. With embroidered work, and he cut thin plates of gold, and drew
them small into threads, that they might be twisted with the woof of
the foresaid colours,
39:4. And two borders coupled one to the other in the top on either
39:5. And a girdle of the same colours, as the Lord had commanded
39:6. He prepared also two onyx stones, fast set and closed in gold,
and graven, by the art of a lapidary, with the names of the children of
39:7. And he set them in the sides of the ephod, for a memorial of the
children of Israel, as the Lord had commanded Moses.
39:8. He made also a rational with embroidered work, according to the
work of the ephod, of gold, violet, purple, and scarlet twice dyed, and
fine twisted linen:
39:9. Foursquare, double, of the measure of a span.
39:10. And he set four rows of precious stones in it.  In the first row
was a sardius, a topaz, an emerald.
39:11. In the second, a carbuncle, a sapphire, and a jasper.
39:12. In the third, a ligurius, an agate, and an amethyst.
39:13. In the fourth, a chrysolite, an onyx, and a beryl, set and
enclosed in gold by their rows.
39:14. And the twelve stones, were engraved with the names of the
twelve tribes of Israel, each one with its several name.
39:15. They made also in the rational little chains, linked one to
another, of the purest gold,
39:16. And two hooks, and as many rings of gold.  And they set the rings
on either side of the rational,
39:17. On which rings the two golden chains should hang, which they put
into the hooks that stood out in the corners of the ephod.
39:18. These both before and behind so answered one another, that the
ephod and the rational were bound together,
39:19. Being fastened to the girdle, and strongly coupled with rings,
which a violet fillet joined, lest they should flag loose, and be moved
one from the other, as the Lord commanded Moses.
39:20. They made also the tunic of the ephod all of violet,
39:21. And a hole for the head in the upper part at the middle, and a
woven border round about the hole:
39:22. And beneath at the feet pomegranates of violet, purple, scarlet,
and fine twisted linen:
39:23. And little bells of the purest gold, which they put between the
pomegranates at the bottom of the tunic round about:
39:24. To wit, a bell of gold, and a pomegranate, wherewith the high
priest went adorned, when he discharged his ministry, as the Lord had
commanded Moses.
39:25. They made also fine linen tunics with woven work for Aaron and
39:26. And mitres with their little crowns of fine linen:
39:27. And linen breeches of fine linen:
39:28. And a girdle of fine twisted linen, violet, purple, and scarlet
twice dyed, of embroidery work, as the Lord had commanded Moses.
39:29. They made also the plate of sacred veneration of the purest
gold, and they wrote on it with the engraving of a lapidary:  The Holy
of the Lord:
39:30. And they fastened it to the mitre with a violet fillet, as the
Lord had commanded Moses.
39:31. So all the work of the tabernacle and of the roof of the
testimony was finished:  and the children of Israel did all things which
the Lord had commanded Moses.
39:32. And they offered the tabernacle, and the roof, and the whole
furniture, the rings, the boards, the bars, the pillars and their
39:33. The cover of rams' skins dyed red, and the other cover of violet
39:34. The veil, the ark, the bars, the propitiatory,
39:35. The table, with the vessels thereof, and the loaves of
proposition:
39:36. The candlestick, the lamps, and the furniture of them, with the
39:37. The altar of gold, and the ointment, and the incense of spices:
39:38. And the hanging in the entry of the tabernacle:
39:39. The altar of brass, the grate, the bars, and all the vessels
thereof:  the laver, with the foot thereof:  the hangings of the court,
and the pillars, with their sockets:
39:40. The hanging in the entry of the court, and the little cords, and
the pins thereof.  Nothing was wanting of the vessels, that were
commanded to be made for the ministry of the tabernacle, and for the
roof of the covenant.
39:41. The vestments also, which the priests, to wit, Aaron and his
sons, use in the sanctuary,
39:42. The children of Israel offered, as the Lord had commanded.
39:43. And when Moses saw all things finished, he blessed them.
Exodus Chapter 40
The tabernacle is commanded to be set up and anointed.  God filleth it
with his majesty.
40:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
40:2. The first month, the first day of the month, thou shalt set up
the tabernacle of the testimony,
40:3. And shalt put the ark in it, and shalt let down the veil before
40:4. And thou shalt bring in the table, and set upon it the things
that are commanded according to the rite.  The candlestick shall stand
with its lamps,
40:5. And the altar of gold, whereon the incense is burnt before the
ark of the testimony.  Thou shalt put the hanging in the entry of the
40:6. And before it the altar of holocaust.
40:7. The laver between the altar and the tabernacle, and thou shalt
fill it with water.
40:8. And thou shalt encompass the court with hangings, and the entry
40:9. And thou shalt take the oil of unction and anoint the tabernacle
with its vessels, that they may be sanctified:
40:10. The altar of holocaust and all its vessels:
40:11. The laver with its foot:  thou shalt consecrate all with the oil
of unction, that they may be most holy.
40:12. And thou shalt bring Aaron and his sons to the door of the
tabernacle of the testimony, and having washed them with water,
40:13. Thou shalt put on them the holy vestments, that they may
minister to me, and that the unction of them may prosper to an
everlasting priesthood.
40:14. And Moses did all that the Lord had commanded.
40:15. So in the first month of the second year, the first day of the
month, the tabernacle was set up.
40:16. And Moses reared it up, and placed the boards and the sockets
and the bars, and set up the pillars,
40:17. And spread the roof over the tabernacle, putting over it a
cover, as the Lord had commanded.
40:18. And he put the testimony in the ark, thrusting bars underneath,
and the oracle above.
40:19. And when he had brought the ark into the tabernacle, he drew the
veil before it to fulfil the commandment of the Lord.
40:20. And he set the table in the tabernacle of the testimony, at the
north side, without the veil,
40:21. Setting there in order the loaves of proposition, as the Lord
had commanded Moses.
40:22. He set the candlestick also in the tabernacle of the testimony,
over against the table on the south side,
40:23. Placing the lamps in order, according to the precept of the
40:24. He set also the altar of gold under the roof of the testimony,
over against the veil,
40:25. And burnt upon it the incense of spices, as the Lord had
commanded Moses.
40:26. And he put also the hanging in the entry of the tabernacle of
the testimony,
40:27. And the altar of holocaust in the entry of the testimony,
offering the holocaust, and the sacrifices upon it, as the Lord had
40:28. And he set the laver between the tabernacle of the testimony and
the altar, filling it with water.
40:29. And Moses and Aaron, and his sons, washed their hands and feet,
40:30. When they went into the tabernacle of the covenant, and went to
the altar, as the Lord had commanded Moses.
40:31. He set up also the court round about the tabernacle and the
altar, drawing the hanging in the entry thereof.  After all things were
40:32. The cloud covered the tabernacle of the testimony, and the glory
of the Lord filled it.
40:33. Neither could Moses go into the tabernacle of the covenant, the
cloud covering all things, and the majesty of the Lord shining, for the
cloud had covered all.
40:34. If at any time the cloud removed from the tabernacle, the
children of Israel went forward by their troops:
40:35. If it hung over, they remained in the same place.
40:36. For the cloud of the Lord hung over the tabernacle by day, and a
fire by night, in the sight of all the children of Israel throughout
all their mansions.
THE BOOK OF LEVITICUS
This Book is called LEVITICUS, because it treats of the Offices,
Ministries, Rites and Ceremonies of the Priests and Levites.  The
Hebrews call it VAICRA, from the word with which it begins.
Leviticus Chapter 1
Of holocausts or burnt offerings.
1:1. And the Lord called Moses, and spoke to him from the tabernacle of
the testimony, saying:
1:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  The
man among you that shall offer to the Lord a sacrifice of the cattle,
that is, offering victims of oxen and sheep:
1:3. If his offering be a holocaust, and of the herd, he shall offer a
male without blemish, at the door of the testimony, to make the Lord
favourable to him.
A holocaust. . .That is, a whole burnt offering (olokauston), so called,
because the whole victim was consumed with fire; and given in such
manner to God as wholly to evaporate, as it were, for his honour and
glory; without having any part of it reserved for the use of man.  The
other sacrifices in the Old Testament were either offerings for sin, or
peace offerings:  and these latter again were either offered in
thanksgiving for blessings received; or by way of prayer for new
favours or graces.  So that sacrifices were then offered to God for four
different ends or intentions, answerable to the different obligations
which man has to God:  1. By way of adoration, homage, praise, and glory
due to his divine majesty.  2. By way of thanksgiving for all benefits
received from him.  3. By way of confessing and craving pardon for sins.
4. By way of prayer and petition for grace and relief in all
necessities.  In the New Law we have but one sacrifice, viz., that of
the body and blood of Christ:  but this one sacrifice of the New
Testament perfectly answers all these four ends; and both priest and
people, as often as it is celebrated, ought to join in offering it up
for these four ends.
1:4. And he shall put his hand upon the head of the victim:  and it
shall be acceptable, and help to its expiation.
1:5. And he shall immolate the calf before the Lord:  and the priests
the sons of Aaron shall offer the blood thereof, pouring it round about
the altar, which is before the door of the tabernacle.
1:6. And when they have flayed the victim, they shall cut the joints
into pieces:
1:7. And shall put fire on the altar, having before laid in order a
pile of wood.
1:8. And they shall lay the parts that are cut out in order thereupon:
to wit, the head, and all things that cleave to the liver;
1:9. The entrails and feet being washed with water.  And the priest
shall burn them upon the altar for a holocaust, and a sweet savour to
1:10. And if the offering be of the flocks, a holocaust of sheep or of
goats, he shall offer a male without blemish.
1:11. And he shall immolate it at the side of the altar that looketh to
the north, before the Lord:  but the sons of Aaron shall pour the blood
thereof upon the altar round about.
1:12. And they shall divide the joints, the head, and all that cleave
to the liver:  and shall lay them upon the wood, under which the fire is
1:13. But the entrails and the feet they shall wash with water.  And the
priest shall offer it all and burn it all upon the altar for a
holocaust, and most sweet savour to the Lord.
1:14. But if the oblation of a holocaust to the Lord be of birds, of
turtles, or of young pigeons:
1:15. The priest shall offer it at the altar:  and twisting back the
neck, and breaking the place of the wound, he shall make the blood run
down upon the brim of the altar.
1:16. But the crop of the throat, and the feathers he shall cast beside
the altar at the east side, in the place where the ashes are wont to be
1:17. And he shall break the pinions thereof, and shall not cut, nor
divide it with a knife:  and shall burn it upon the altar, putting fire
under the wood.  It is a holocaust and oblation of most sweet savour to
Leviticus Chapter 2
Of offerings of flour, and firstfruits.
2:1. When any one shall offer an oblation of sacrifice to the Lord, his
offering shall be of fine flour:  and he shall pour oil upon it, and put
frankincense,
2:2. And shall bring it to the sons of Aaron the priests.  And one of
them shall take a handful of the flour and oil, and all the
frankincense; and shall put it a memorial upon the altar for a most
sweet savour to the Lord.
2:3. And the remnant of the sacrifice shall be Aaron's, and his sons',
holy of holies of the offerings of the Lord.
Holy of holies. . .That is, most holy, as being dedicated to God, and
set aside by his ordinance for the use of his priests.
2:4. But when thou offerest a sacrifice baked in the oven of flour, to
wit, loaves without leaven, tempered with oil, and unleavened wafers,
anointed with oil:
2:5. If thy oblation be from the fryingpan, of flour tempered with oil,
and without leaven:
2:6. Thou shalt divide it into little pieces, and
shalt pour oil upon it.
2:7. And if the sacrifice be from the gridiron, in like manner the
flour shall be tempered with oil.
2:8. And when thou offerest it to the Lord, thou shalt deliver it to
the hands of the priest.
2:9. And when he hath offered it, he shall take a memorial out of the
sacrifice, and burn it upon the altar for a sweet savour to the Lord.
2:10. And whatsoever is left, shall be Aaron's, and his sons':  holy of
holies of the offerings of the Lord.
2:11. Every oblation that is offered to the Lord shall be made without
leaven:  neither shall any leaven or honey be burnt in the sacrifice to
Without leaven or honey. . .No leaven nor honey was to be used in the
sacrifice offered to God; to signify that we are to exclude from the
pure worship of the gospel, all double dealing and affection to carnal
2:12. You shall offer only the firstfruits of them and gifts:  but they
shall not be put upon the altar, for a savour of sweetness.
2:13. Whatsoever sacrifice thou offerest, thou shalt season it with
salt:  neither shalt thou take away the salt of the covenant of thy God
from thy sacrifice.  In all thy oblations thou shalt offer salt.
Salt. . .In every sacrifice salt was to be used, which is an emblem of
wisdom and discretion, without which none of our performances are
agreeable to God.
2:14. But if thou offer a gift of the firstfruits of thy corn to the
Lord, of the ears yet green, thou shalt dry it at the fire, and break
it small like meal; and so shalt thou offer thy firstfruits to the
2:15. Pouring oil upon it and putting on frankincense, because it is
the oblation of the Lord.
2:16. Whereof the priest shall burn for a memorial of the gift, part of
the corn broken small and of the oil, and all the frankincense.
Leviticus Chapter 3
Of peace offerings.
3:1. And if his oblation be a sacrifice of peace offerings, and he will
offer of the herd, whether male or female:  he shall offer them without
blemish before the Lord.
Peace offerings. . .Peace, in the scripture language, signifies
happiness, welfare or prosperity; in a word, all kind of
blessings.--Such sacrifices, therefore, as were offered either on
occasion of blessings received, or to obtain new favours, were called
pacific or peace offerings.  In these, some part of the victim was
consumed with fire on the altar of God; other parts were eaten by the
priests and by the persons for whom the sacrifice was offered.
3:2. And he shall lay his hand upon the head of his victim, which shall
be slain in the entry of the tabernacle of the testimony:  and the sons
of Aaron the priests shall pour the blood round about upon the altar.
3:3. And they shall offer of the sacrifice of peace offerings, for an
oblation to the Lord:  the fat that covereth the entrails, and all the
fat that is within,
3:4. The two kidneys with the fat wherewith the flanks are covered, and
the caul of the liver with the two little kidneys.
3:5. And they shall burn them upon the altar, for a holocaust, putting
fire under the wood:  for an oblation of most sweet savour to the Lord.
3:6. But if his oblation and the sacrifice of peace offering be of the
flock, whether he offer male or female, they shall be without blemish.
3:7. If he offer a lamb before the Lord:
3:8. He shall put his hand upon the head of the victim.  And it shall be
slain in the entry of the tabernacle of the testimony:  and the sons of
Aaron shall pour the blood thereof round about upon the altar.
3:9. And they shall offer of the victim of peace offerings, a sacrifice
to the Lord:  the fat and the whole rump,
3:10. With the kidneys, and the fat that covereth the belly and all the
vitals and both the little kidneys, with the fat that is about the
flanks, and the caul of the liver with the little kidneys.
3:11. And the priest shall burn them upon the altar, for the food of
the fire, and of the oblation of the Lord.
3:12. If his offering be a goat, and he offer it to the Lord:
3:13. He shall put his hand upon the head thereof:  and shall immolate
it in the entry of the tabernacle of the testimony.  And the sons of
Aaron shall pour the blood thereof round about upon the altar.
3:14. And they shall take of it for the food of the Lord's fire, the
fat that covereth the belly, and that covereth all the vital parts:
3:15. The two little kidneys with the caul that is upon them which is
by the flanks, and the fat of the liver with the little kidneys.
3:16. And the priest shall burn them upon the altar, for the food of
the fire, and of a most sweet savour.  All the fat shall be the Lord's.
3:17. By a perpetual law for your generations, and in all your
habitations:  neither blood nor fat shall you eat at all.
Fat. . .It is meant of the fat, which by the prescription of the law was
to be offered on God's altar; not of the fat of meat, such as we
commonly eat.
Leviticus Chapter 4
Of offerings for sins of ignorance.
4:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
4:2. Say to the children of Israel:  The soul that sinneth through
ignorance, and doth any thing concerning any of the commandments of the
Lord, which he commanded not to be done:
Ignorance. . .To be ignorant of what we are bound to know is sinful; and
for such culpable ignorance, these sacrifices, prescribed in this and
the following chapter, were appointed.
4:3. If the priest that is anointed shall sin, making the people to
offend, he shall offer to the Lord for his sin a calf without blemish.
4:4. And he shall bring it to the door of the testimony before the
Lord:  and shall put his hand upon the head thereof, and shall sacrifice
it to the Lord.
4:5. He shall take also of the blood of the calf:  and carry it into the
tabernacle of the testimony.
The blood. . .As the figure of the blood of Christ shed for the
remission of our sins, and carried by him into the sanctuary of heaven.
4:6. And having dipped his finger in the blood, he shall sprinkle with
it seven times before the Lord, before the veil of the sanctuary.
4:7. And he shall put some of the same blood upon the horns of the
altar of the sweet incense most acceptable to the Lord, which is in the
tabernacle of the testimony.  And he shall pour all the rest of the
blood at the foot of the altar of holocaust in the entry of the
4:8. And he shall take off the fat of the calf for the sin offering, as
well that which covereth the entrails, as all the inwards:
4:9. The two little kidneys, and the caul that is upon them, which is
by the flanks, and the fat of the liver with the little kidneys:
4:10. As it is taken off from the calf of the sacrifice of peace
offerings.  And he shall burn them upon the altar of holocaust.
4:11. But the skin and all the flesh with the head and the feet and the
bowels and the dung:
4:12. And the rest of the body, he shall carry forth without the camp
into a clean place where the ashes are wont to be poured out:  and he
shall burn them upon a pile of wood.  They shall be burnt in the place
where the ashes are poured out.
4:13. And if all the multitude of Israel shall be ignorant, and through
ignorance shall do that which is against the commandment of the Lord,
4:14. And afterwards shall understand their sin:  they shall offer for
their sin a calf, and shall bring it to the door of the tabernacle.
4:15. And the ancients of the people shall put their hands upon the
head thereof before the Lord.  And the calf being immolated in the sight
of the Lord:
4:16. The priest that is anointed shall carry of the blood into the
tabernacle of the testimony.
4:17. And shall dip his finger in it and sprinkle it seven times before
4:18. And he shall put of the same blood on the horns of the altar that
is before the Lord, in the tabernacle of the testimony.  And the rest of
the blood he shall pour at the foot of the altar of holocaust, which is
at the door of the tabernacle of the testimony.
4:19. And all the fat thereof he shall take off, and shall burn it upon
4:20. Doing so with this calf, as he did also with that before.  And the
priest praying for them, the Lord will be merciful unto them.
4:21. But the calf itself he shall carry forth without the camp, and
shall burn it as he did the former calf:  because it is for the sin of
the multitude.
4:22. If a prince shall sin, and through ignorance do any one of the
things that the law of the Lord forbiddeth,
4:23. And afterwards shall come to know his sin:  he shall offer a buck
goat without blemish, a sacrifice to the Lord.
4:24. And he shall put his hand upon the head thereof:  and when he hath
immolated it in the place where the holocaust is wont to be slain
before the Lord, because it is for sin,
4:25. The priest shall dip his finger in the blood of the victim for
sin, touching therewith the horns of the altar of holocaust, and
pouring out the rest at the foot thereof.
4:26. But the fat he shall burn upon it, as is wont to be done with the
victims of peace offerings.  And the priest shall pray for him, and for
his sin:  and it shall be forgiven him.
4:27. And if any one of the people of the land shall sin through
ignorance, doing any of those things that by the law of the Lord are
forbidden, and offending,
4:28. And shall come to know his sin:  he shall offer a she goat without
4:29. And he shall put his hand upon the head of the victim that is for
sin:  and shall immolate it in the place of the holocaust.
4:30. And the priest shall take of the blood with his finger, and shall
touch the horns of the altar of holocaust:  and shall pour out the rest
at the foot thereof.
4:31. But taking off all the fat, as is wont to be taken away of the
victims of peace offerings, he shall burn it upon the altar, for a
sweet savour to the Lord:  and he shall pray for him, and it shall be
forgiven him.
4:32. But if he offer of the flock a victim for his sin, to wit, an ewe
without blemish:
4:33. He shall put his hand upon the head thereof, and shall immolate
it in the place where the victims of holocausts are wont to be slain.
4:34. And the priest shall take of the blood thereof with his finger,
and shall touch the horns of the altar of holocaust:  and the rest he
shall pour out at the foot thereof.
4:35. All the fat also he shall take off, as the fat of the ram that is
offered for peace offerings is wont to be taken away:  and shall burn it
upon the altar, for a burnt sacrifice of the Lord.  And he shall pray
for him and his sin, and it shall be forgiven him.
Leviticus Chapter 5
Of other sacrifices for sins.
5:1. If any one sin, and hear the voice of one swearing, and is a
witness either because he himself hath seen, or is privy to it:  if he
do not utter it, he shall bear his iniquity.
5:2. Whosoever toucheth any unclean thing, either that which hath been
killed by a beast, or died of itself, or any other creeping thing:  and
forgetteth his uncleanness, he is guilty, and hath offended.
5:3. And if he touch any thing of the uncleanness of man, according to
any uncleanness wherewith he is wont to be defiled:  and having
forgotten it, come afterwards to know it, he shall be guilty of an
5:4. The person that sweareth, and uttereth with his lips, that he
would do either evil or good, and bindeth the same with an oath, and
his word:  and having forgotten it afterwards understandeth his offence,
5:5. Let him do penance for his sin:
5:6. And offer of the flocks an ewe lamb, or a she goat, and the priest
shall pray for him and for his sin.
5:7. But if he be not able to offer a beast, let him offer two turtles,
or two young pigeons to the Lord, one for sin, and the other for a
5:8. And he shall give them to the priest:  who shall offer the first
for sin, and twist back the head of it to the little pinions, so that
it stick to the neck, and be not altogether broken off.
5:9. And of its blood he shall sprinkle the side of the altar:  and
whatever is left, he shall let it drop at the bottom thereof, because
it is for sin.
5:10. And the other he shall burn for a holocaust, as is wont to be
done.  And the priest shall pray for him, and for his sin, and it shall
be forgiven him.
5:11. And if his hand be not able to offer two turtles, or two young
pigeons, he shall offer for his sin the tenth part of an ephi of flour.
He shall not put oil upon it, nor put any frankincense thereon, because
it is for sin.
5:12. And he shall deliver it to the priest, who shall take a handful
thereof, and shall burn it upon the altar for a memorial of him that
5:13. Praying for him and making atonement.  But the part that is left,
he himself shall have for a gift.
5:14. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
5:15. If any one shall sin through mistake, transgressing the
ceremonies in those things that are sacrificed to the Lord, he shall
offer for his offence a ram without blemish out of the flocks, that may
be bought for two sicles, according to the weight of the sanctuary.
5:16. And he shall make good the damage itself which he hath done, and
shall add the fifth part besides, delivering it to the priest, who
shall pray for him, offering the ram:  and it shall be forgiven him.
5:17. If any one sin through ignorance, and do one of those things
which by the law of the Lord are forbidden, and being guilty of sin,
understand his iniquity:
5:18. He shall offer of the flocks a ram without blemish to the priest,
according to the measure and estimation of the sin.  And the priest
shall pray for him, because he did it ignorantly:  And it shall be
forgiven him,
5:19. Because by mistake he trespassed against the Lord.
Leviticus Chapter 6
Oblation for sins of injustice:  ordinances concerning the holocausts
and the perpetual fire:  the sacrifices of the priests, and the sin
6:1. The Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
6:2. Whosoever shall sin, and despising the Lord, shall deny to his
neighbour the thing delivered to his keeping, which was committed to
his trust; or shall by force extort any thing, or commit oppression;
6:3. Or shall find a thing lost, and denying it, shall also swear
falsely, or shall do any other of the many things, wherein men are wont
6:4. Being convicted of the offence, he shall restore
6:5. All that he would have gotten by fraud, in the principal, and the
fifth part besides, to the owner, whom he wronged.
6:6. Moreover for his sin he shall offer a ram without blemish out of
the flock:  and shall give it to the priest, according to the estimation
and measure of the offence.
6:7. And he shall pray for him before the Lord:  and he shall have
forgiveness for every thing in doing of which he bath sinned.
6:8. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
6:9. Command Aaron and his sons:  This is the law of a holocaust.  It
shall be burnt upon the altar, all night until morning:  the fire shall
be of the same altar.
6:10. The priest shall be vested with the tunick and the linen
breeches; and he shall take up the ashes of that which the devouring
fire hath burnt:  and putting them beside the altar,
6:11. Shall put off his former vestments, and being clothed with
others, shall carry them forth without the camp, and shall cause them
to be consumed to dust in a very clean place.
6:12. And the fire on the altar shall always burn, and the priest shall
feed it, putting wood on it every day in the morning:  and laying on the
holocaust, shall burn thereupon the fat of the peace offerings.
6:13. This is the perpetual fire which shall never go out on the altar.
The perpetual fire. . .This fire came from heaven, (infra. chap. 9.24,)
and was always kept burning on the altar, as a figure of the heavenly
fire of divine love, which ought to be always burning in the heart of a
6:14. This is the law of the sacrifice and libations, which the
children of Aaron shall offer before the Lord, and before the altar.
6:15. The priest shall take a handful of the flour that is tempered
with oil, and all the frankincense that is put upon the flour:  and he
shall burn on the altar for a memorial of most sweet odour to the Lord.
6:16. And the part of the flour that is left, Aaron and his sons shall
eat, without leaven:  and he shall eat it in the holy place of the court
of the tabernacle.
6:17. And therefore it shall not be leavened, because part thereof is
offered for the burnt sacrifice of the Lord.  It shall be most holy, as
that which is offered for sin and for trespass.
6:18. The males only of the race of Aaron shall eat it.  It shall be an
ordinance everlasting in your generations concerning the sacrifices of
the Lord:  Every one that toucheth them shall be sanctified.
6:19. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
6:20. This is the oblation of Aaron, and of his sons, which they must
offer to the Lord, in the day of their anointing.  They shall offer the
tenth part of an ephi of flour for a perpetual sacrifice, half of it in
the morning, and half of it in the evening.
6:21. It shall be tempered with oil, and shall be fried in a fryingpan.
6:22. And the priest that rightfully succeedeth his father, shall offer
it hot, for a most sweet odour to the Lord:  and it shall he wholly
burnt on the altar.
6:23. For every sacrifice of the priest shall be consumed with fire:
neither shall any man eat thereof.
6:24. And the Lord spoke to Moses.  saying:
6:25. Say to Aaron and his sons:  This is the law of the victim for sin.
In the place where the holocaust is offered, it shall be immolated
before the Lord.  It is holy of holies.
6:26. The priest that offereth it, shall eat it in a holy place, in the
court of the tabernacle.
6:27. Whatsoever shall touch the flesh thereof, shall be sanctified.  If
a garment be sprinkled with the blood thereof, it shall be washed in a
6:28. And the earthen vessel, wherein it was sodden, shall be broken:
but if the vessel be of brass, it shall be scoured, and washed with
6:29. Every male of the priestly race shall eat of the flesh thereof,
because it is holy of holies.
6:30. For the victim that is slain for sin, the blood of which is
carried into the tabernacle of the testimony to make atonement in the
sanctuary, shall not be eaten, but shall be burnt with fire.
Leviticus Chapter 7
Of sacrifices for trespasses and thanks offerings.  No fat nor blood is
to be eaten.
7:1. This also is the law of the sacrifice for a trespass:  it is most
Trespass. . .Trespasses, for which these offerings were to be made, were
lesser offences than those for which the sin offerings were appointed.
7:2. Therefore where the holocaust is immolated, the victim also for a
trespass shall be slain:  the blood thereof shall be poured round about
7:3. They shall offer thereof the rump and the fat that covereth the
7:4. The two little kidneys, and the fat which is by the flanks, and
the caul of the liver with the little kidneys.
7:5. And the priest shall burn them upon the altar:  it is the burnt
sacrifice of the Lord for a trespass.
7:6. Every male of the priestly race, shall eat this flesh in a holy
place, because it is most holy.
7:7. As the sacrifice for sin is offered, so is also that for a
trespass:  the same shall be the law of both these sacrifices.  It shall
belong to the priest that offereth it.
7:8. The priest that offereth the victim of holocaust, shall have the
skin thereof.
7:9. And every sacrifice of flour that is baked in the oven, and
whatsoever is dressed on the gridiron, or in the fryingpan, shall be
the priest's that offereth it.
7:10. Whether they be tempered with oil, or dry, all the sons of Aaron
shall have one as much as another.
7:11. This is the law of the sacrifice of peace offerings that is
offered to the Lord.
7:12. If the oblation be for thanksgiving, they shall offer loaves
without leaven tempered with oil, and unleavened wafers anointed with
oil, and fine flour fried, and cakes tempered and mingled with oil.
7:13. Moreover loaves of leavened bread with the sacrifice of thanks,
which is offered for peace offerings:
7:14. Of which one shall be offered to the Lord for firstfruits, and
shall be the priest's that shall pour out the blood of the victim.
7:15. And the flesh of it shall be eaten the same day:  neither shall
any of it remain until the morning.
7:16. If any man by vow, or of his own accord offer a sacrifice, it
shall in like manner be eaten the same day.  And if any of it remain
until the morrow, it is lawful to eat it.
7:17. But whatsoever shall be found on the third day shall be consumed
7:18. If any man eat of the flesh of the victim of peace offerings on
the third day, the oblation shall be of no effect:  neither shall it
profit the offerer.  Yea rather, whatsoever soul shall defile itself
with such meat, shall be guilty of transgression.
7:19. The flesh that hath touched any unclean thing, shall not be
eaten:  but shall be burnt with fire.  He that is clean shall eat of it.
7:20. If any one that is defiled shall eat of the flesh of the
sacrifice of peace offerings, which is offered to the Lord, he shall be
cut off from his people.
7:21. And he that hath touched the uncleanness of man, or of beast, or
of any thing that can defile, and shall eat of such kind of flesh:
shall be cut off from his people.
7:22. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
7:23. Say to the children of Israel:  The fat of a sheep, and of an ox,
and of a goat you shall not eat.
7:24. The fat of a carcass that hath died of itself, and of a beast
that was caught by another beast, you shall have for divers uses.
7:25. If any man eat the fat that should be offered for the burnt
sacrifice of the Lord, he shall perish out of his people.
7:26. Moreover you shall not eat the blood of any creature whatsoever,
whether of birds or beasts.
7:27. Every one that eateth blood, shall perish from among the people.
7:28. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
7:29. Speak to the children of Israel, saying:  He that offereth a
victim of peace offerings to the Lord, let him offer therewith a
sacrifice also, that is, the libations thereof.
7:30. He shall hold in his hands the fat of the victim, and the breast.
And when he hath offered and consecrated both to the Lord, he shall
deliver them to the priest,
7:31. Who shall burn the fat upon the altar.  But the breast shall be
Aaron's and his sons'.
7:32. The right shoulder also of the victim, of peace offerings shall
fall to the priest for firstfruits.
7:33. He among the sons of Aaron, that offereth the blood, and the fat:
he shall have the right shoulder also for his portion.
7:34. For the breast that is elevated and the shoulder that is
separated I have taken of the children of Israel, from off their
victims of peace offerings:  and have given them to Aaron the priest,
and to his sons, by a law for ever, from all the people of Israel.
7:35. This is the anointing of Aaron and his sons, in the ceremonies of
the Lord, in the day when Moses offered them, that they might do the
office of priesthood,
7:36. And the things that the Lord commanded to be given them by the
children of Israel, by a perpetual observance in their generations.
7:37. This is the law of holocaust, and of the sacrifice for sin, and
for trespass, and for consecration, and the victims of peace offerings:
7:38. Which the Lord appointed to Moses in mount Sinai, when he
commanded the children of Israel, that they should offer their
oblations to the Lord in the desert of Sinai.
Leviticus Chapter 8
Moses consecrateth Aaron and his sons.
8:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
8:2. Take Aaron with his sons, their vestments, and the oil of unction:
a calf for sin, two rams, a basket with unleavened bread.
8:3. And thou shalt gather together all the congregation to the door of
the tabernacle.
8:4. And Moses did as the Lord had commanded.  And all the multitude
being gathered together before the door of the tabernacle:
8:5. He said:  This is the word that the Lord hath commanded to be done.
8:6. And immediately, he offered Aaron and his sons.  And when he had
washed them,
8:7. He vested the high priest with the strait linen garment, girding
him with the girdle, and putting on him the violet tunick:  and over it
he put the ephod.
8:8. And binding it with the girdle, he fitted it to the rational, on
which was Doctrine and Truth.
8:9. He put also the mitre upon his head:  and upon the mitre over the
forehead, he put the plate of gold, consecrated with sanctification, as
the Lord had commanded him.
8:10. He took also the oil of unction, with which he anointed the
tabernacle, with all the furniture thereof.
8:11. And when he had sanctified and sprinkled the altar seven times,
he anointed it, and all the vessels thereof:  and the laver with the
foot thereof, he sanctified with the oil.
8:12. And he poured it upon Aaron's head:  and he anointed and
consecrated him.
8:13. And after he had offered his sons, he vested them with linen
tunicks, and girded them with girdles:  and put mitres on them as the
Lord had commanded.
8:14. He offered also the calf for sin:  and when Aaron and his sons had
put their hands upon the head thereof,
8:15. He immolated it:  and took the blood, and dipping his finger in
it, he touched the horns of the altar round about.  Which being
expiated, and sanctified, he poured the rest of the blood at the bottom
8:16. But the fat that was upon the entrails, and the caul of the
liver, and the two little kidneys, with their fat, he burnt upon the
8:17. And the calf with the skin, and the flesh and the dung, he burnt
without the camp, as the Lord had commanded.
8:18. He offered also a ram for holocaust.  And when Aaron and his sons
had put their hands upon its head:
8:19. He immolated it, and poured the blood thereof round about the
8:20. And cutting the ram into pieces, the head thereof, and the
joints, and the fat he burnt in the fire.
8:21. Having first washed the entrails, and the feet, and the whole ram
together he burnt upon the altar:  because it was a holocaust of most
sweet odour to the Lord, as he had commanded him.
8:22. He offered also the second ram, in the consecration of priests:
and Aaron, and his sons put their hands upon the head thereof.
8:23. And when Moses had immolated it, he took of the blood thereof,
and touched the tip of Aaron's right ear, and the thumb of his right
hand, and in like manner also the great toe of his right foot.
8:24. He offered also the sons of Aaron:  and when with the blood of the
ram that was immolated, he had touched the tip of the right ear of
every one of them, and the thumbs of their right hands, and the great
toes of their right feet, the rest he poured on the altar round about.
8:25. But the fat, and the rump, and all the fat that covereth the
entrails, and the caul of the liver, and the two kidneys with their
fat, and with the right shoulder, he separated.
8:26. And taking out of the basket of unleavened bread, which was
before the Lord, a loaf without leaven, and a cake tempered with oil
and a wafer, he put them upon the fat, and the right shoulder:
8:27. Delivering all to Aaron, and to his sons.  Who having lifted them
up before the Lord,
8:28. He took them again from their hands, and burnt them upon the
altar of holocaust:  because it was the oblation of consecration, for a
sweet odour of sacrifice to the Lord.
8:29. And he took of the ram of consecration, the breast for his
portion, elevating it before the Lord, as the Lord had commanded him.
8:30. And taking the ointment, and the blood that was upon the altar,
he sprinkled Aaron, and his vestments, and his sons, and their
vestments with it.
8:31. And when he had sanctified them in their vestments, he commanded
them, saying:  Boil the flesh before the door of the tabernacle, and
there eat it.  Eat ye also the loaves of consecration, that are laid in
the basket, as the Lord commanded me, saying:  Aaron and his sons shall
8:32. And whatsoever shall be left of the flesh and the loaves, shall
be consumed with fire.
8:33. And you shall not go out of the door of the tabernacle for seven
days, until the day wherein the time of your consecration shall be
expired.  For in seven days the consecration is finished:
8:34. As at this present it hath been done, that the rite of the
sacrifice might be accomplished.
8:35. Day and night shall you remain in the tabernacle observing the
watches of the Lord, lest you die.  For so it hath been commanded me.
8:36. And Aaron and his sons did all things which the Lord spoke by the
hand of Moses.
Leviticus Chapter 9
Aaron offereth sacrifice for himself and the people.  Fire cometh from
the Lord upon the altar.
9:1. And when the eighth day was come, Moses called Aaron and his sons,
and the ancients of Israel, and said to Aaron:
9:2. Take of the herd a calf for sin, and a ram for a holocaust, both
without blemish, and offer them before the Lord.
9:3. And to the children of Israel thou shalt say:  Take ye a he goat
for sin, and a calf, and a lamb, both of a year old, and without
blemish for a holocaust.
9:4. Also a bullock and a ram for peace offerings.  And immolate them
before the Lord, offering for the sacrifice of every one of them flour
tempered with oil:  for to day the Lord will appear to you.
9:5. They brought therefore all things that Moses had commanded before
the door of the tabernacle:  where when all the multitude stood,
9:6. Moses said:  This is the word, which the Lord hath commanded.  Do
it, and his glory will appear to you.
9:7. And he said to Aaron:  Approach to the altar, and offer sacrifice
for thy sin.  Offer the holocaust, and pray for thyself and for the
people:  and when thou hast slain the people's victim, pray for them, as
the Lord hath commanded.
9:8. And forthwith Aaron, approaching to the altar, immolated the calf
for his sin.
9:9. And his sons brought him the blood of it:  and he dipped his finger
therein, and touched the horns of the altar, and poured the rest at the
foot thereof.
9:10. And the fat, and the little kidneys, and the caul of the liver,
which are for sin, he burnt upon the altar, as the Lord had commanded
9:11. But the flesh and skins thereof he burnt with fire without the
9:12. He immolated also the victim of holocaust:  and his sons brought
him the blood thereof, which he poured round about on the altar.
9:13. And the victim being cut into pieces, they brought to him the
head and all the members:  all which he burnt with fire upon the altar.
9:14. Having first washed the entrails and the feet with water.
9:15. Then offering for the sin of the people, he slew the he goat:  and
expiating the altar,
9:16. He offered the holocaust.
9:17. Adding in the sacrifice the libations, which are offered withal,
and burning them upon the altar, besides the ceremonies of the morning
9:18. He immolated also the bullock and the ram, and peace offerings of
the people:  and his sons brought him the blood, which he poured upon
the altar round about.
9:19. The fat also of the bullock, and the rump of the ram, and the two
little kidneys with their fat, and the caul of the liver,
9:20. They put upon the breasts.  And after the fat was burnt upon the
9:21. Aaron separated their breasts, and the right shoulders, elevating
them before the Lord, as Moses had commanded.
9:22. And stretching forth his hands to the people, he blessed them.
And so the victims for sin, and the holocausts, and the peace offerings
being finished, he came down.
9:23. And Moses and Aaron went into the tabernacle of the testimony,
and afterwards came forth and blessed the people.  And the glory of the
Lord appeared to all the multitude.
9:24. And, behold, a fire, coming forth from the Lord, devoured the
holocaust, and the fat that was upon the altar:  which when the
multitude saw, they praised the Lord, falling on their faces.
Leviticus Chapter 10
Nadab and Abiu for offering strange fire, are burnt by fire.  Priests
are forbidden to drink wine, when they enter into the tabernacle.  The
law of eating the holy things.
10:1. And Nadab and Abiu, the sons of Aaron, taking their censers, put
fire therein, and incense on it, offering before the Lord strange fire:
which was not commanded them.
10:2. And fire coming out from the Lord destroyed them:  and they died
before the Lord.
10:3. And Moses said to Aaron:  This is what the Lord hath spoken.  I
will be sanctified in them that approach to me:  and I will be glorified
in the sight of all the people.  And when Aaron heard this, he held his
10:4. And Moses called Misael and Elisaphan, the sons of Oziel, the
uncle of Aaron, and said to them:  Go and take away your brethren from
before the sanctuary, and carry them without the camp.
10:5. And they went forthwith and took them as they lay, vested with
linen tunicks, and cast them forth, as had been commanded them.
10:6. And Moses said to Aaron, and to Eleazar and Ithamar, his sons:
Uncover not your heads, and rend not your garments, lest perhaps you
die, and indignation come upon all the congregation.  Let your brethren,
and all the house of Israel, bewail the burning which the Lord has
10:7. But you shall not go out of the door of the tabernacle:  otherwise
you shall perish, for the oil of the holy unction is on you.  And they
did all things according to the precept of Moses.
10:8. The Lord also said to Aaron:
10:9. You shall not drink wine nor any thing that may make drunk, thou
nor thy sons, when you enter into the tabernacle of the testimony, lest
you die.  Because it is an everlasting precept; through your
generations:
10:10. And that you may have knowledge to discern between holy and
unholy, between unclean and clean:
10:11. And may teach the children of Israel all my ordinances which the
Lord hath spoken to them by the hand of Moses.
10:12. And Moses spoke to Aaron, and to Eleazar and Ithamar, his sons
that were left:  Take the sacrifice that is remaining of the oblation of
the Lord, and eat it without leaven beside the altar, because it is
holy of holies.
10:13. And you shall eat it in a holy place:  which is given to thee and
thy sons of the oblations of the Lord, as it hath been commanded me.
10:14. The breast also that is offered, and the shoulder that is
separated, you shall eat in a most clean place, thou and thy sons, and
thy daughters with thee.  For they are set aside for thee and thy
children, of the victims of peace offerings of the children of Israel.
10:15. Because they have elevated before the Lord the shoulder and the
breast, and the fat that is burnt on the altar:  and they belong to thee
and to thy sons by a perpetual law, as the Lord hath commanded.
10:16. While these things were a doing, when Moses sought for the buck
goat, that had been offered for sin, he found it burnt.  And being angry
with Eleazar and Ithamar, the sons of Aaron that were left, he said:
10:17. Why did you not eat in the holy place the sacrifice for sin,
which is most holy, and given to you, that you may bear the iniquity of
the people, and may pray for them in the sight of the Lord.
10:18. Especially, whereas none of the blood thereof hath been carried
within the holy places:  and you ought to have eaten it in the
sanctuary, as was commanded me?
10:19. Aaron answered:  This day hath been offered the victim for sin,
and the holocaust before the Lord:  and to me what thou seest has
happened.  How could I eat it, or please the Lord in the ceremonies,
having a sorrowful heart?
10:20. Which when Moses had heard he was satisfied.
Leviticus Chapter 11
The distinction of clean and unclean animals.
11:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
11:2. Say to the children of Israel:  These are the animals which you
are to eat of all the living things of the earth.
Animals which you are to eat, etc. . .The prohibition of so many kinds
of beasts, birds, and fishes, in the law, was ordered, 1st, to exercise
the people in obedience, and temperance; 2ndly, to restrain them from
the vices of which these animals were symbols; 3rdly, because the
things here forbidden were for the most part unwholesome, and not
proper to be eaten; 4thly, that the people of God, by being obliged to
abstain from things corporally unclean, might be trained up to seek a
spiritual cleanness.
11:3. Whatsoever hath the hoof divided, and cheweth the cud among the
beasts, you shall eat.
Hoof divided, and cheweth the cud. . .The dividing of the hoof and
chewing of the cud, signify discretion between good and evil, and
meditating on the law of God; and where either of these is wanting a
man is unclean.  In like manner fishes were reputed unclean that had not
fins and scales:  that is, souls that did not raise themselves up by
prayer and cover themselves with the scales of virtue.
11:4. But whatsoever cheweth indeed the cud, and hath a hoof, but
divideth it not, as the camel, and others:  that you shall not eat, but
shall reckon it among the unclean.
11:5. The cherogrillus which cheweth the cud, but divideth not the
hoof, is unclean.
The cherogrillus. . .Some suppose it to be the rabbit, others the
hedgehog.  St. Jerome intimates that it is another kind of animal common
in Palestine, which lives in the holes of rocks or in the earth.  We
choose here, as also in the names of several other creatures that
follow (which are little known in this part of the world,) to keep the
Greek or Latin names.
11:6. The hare also:  for that too cheweth the cud, but divideth not the
11:7. And the swine, which, though it divideth the hoof, cheweth not
11:8. The flesh of these you shall not eat, nor shall you touch their
carcasses, because they are unclean to you.
11:9. These are the things that breed in the waters, and which it is
lawful to eat.  All that hath fins, and scales, as well in the sea, as
in the rivers, and the pools, you shall eat.
11:10. But whatsoever hath not fins and scales, of those things that
move and live in the waters, shall be an abomination to you,
11:11. And detestable.  Their flesh you shall not eat:  and their
carcasses you shall avoid.
11:12. All that have not fins and scales, in the waters, shall be
11:13. Of birds these are they which you must not eat, and which are to
be avoided by you:  The eagle, and the griffon, and the osprey.
The griffon. . .Not the monster which the painter represent, which hath
no being upon earth; but a bird of the eagle kind, larger than the
11:14. And the kite, and the vulture, according to their kind.
11:15. And all that is of the raven kind, according to their likeness.
11:16. The ostrich, and the owl, and the larus, and the hawk according
to its kind.
11:17. The screech owl, and the cormorant, and the ibis.
11:18. And the swan, and the bittern, and the porphyrion.
11:19. The heron, and the charadroin according to its kind, the houp
also, and the bat.
11:20. Of things that fly, whatsoever goeth upon four feet, shall be
abominable to you.
11:21. But whatsoever walketh upon four feet, but hath the legs behind
longer, wherewith it hoppeth upon the earth,
11:22. That you shall eat:  as the bruchus in its kind, the attacus, and
ophimachus, and the locust, every, one according to their kind.
11:23. But of flying things whatsoever hath four feet only, shall be an
abomination to you.
11:24. And whosoever shall touch the carcasses of them, shall be
defiled:  and shall be unclean until the evening:
11:25. And if it be necessary that he carry any of these things when
they are dead:  he shall wash his clothes, and shall be unclean until
the sun set.
11:26. Every beast that hath a hoof, but divideth it not, nor cheweth
the cud shall be unclean:  and he that toucheth it, shall be defiled.
11:27. That which walketh upon hands of all animals which go on all
four, shall be unclean:  he that shall touch their carcasses shall be
defiled until evening.
11:28. And he that shall carry such carcasses, shall wash his clothes,
and shall be unclean until evening:  because all these things are
unclean to you.
11:29. These also shall be reckoned among unclean things, of all that
move upon the earth.  The weasel, and the mouse, and the crocodile,
every one according to their kind:
11:30. The shrew, and the chameleon, and the stellio, and the lizard,
and the mole.
11:31. All these are unclean.  He that toucheth their carcasses shall be
unclean until the evening.
11:32. And upon what thing soever any of their carcasses shall fall, it
shall be defiled, whether it be a vessel of wood, or a garment, or
skins or haircloths:  or any thing in which work is done.  They shall be
dipped in water, and shall be unclean until the evening, and so
afterwards shall be clean.
11:33. But an earthen vessel, into which any of these shall fall, shall
be defiled:  and therefore is to be broken.
11:34. Any meat which you eat, if water from such a vessel be poured
upon it, shall be unclean; and every liquor that is drunk out of any
such vessel, shall be unclean.
11:35. And upon whatsoever thing any of these dead beasts shall fall,
it shall be unclean.  Whether it be oven, or pots with feet, they shall
be destroyed, and shall be unclean.
11:36. But fountains and cisterns, and all gatherings together of
waters shall be clean.  He that toucheth their carcasses shall be
11:37. If it fall upon seed corn, it shall not defile it.
11:38. But if any man pour water upon the seed, and afterwards it be
touched by the carcasses, it shall be forthwith defiled.
11:39. If any beast die, of which it is lawful for you to eat, he that
toucheth the carcass thereof, shall be unclean until the evening.
11:40. And he that eateth or carrieth any thing thereof, shall wash his
clothes, and shall be unclean until the evening.
11:41. All that creepeth upon the earth shall be abominable:  neither
shall it be taken for meat.
11:42. Whatsoever goeth upon the breast on four feet, or hath many
feet, or traileth on the earth, you shall not eat, because it is
11:43. Do not defile your souls, nor touch aught thereof, lest you be
11:44. For I am the Lord your God.  Be holy because I am holy.  Defile
not your souls by any creeping thing, that moveth upon the earth.
11:45. For I am the Lord, who brought you out of the land of Egypt,
that I might be your God.
11:46. You shall be holy, because I am holy.  This is the law of beasts
and fowls, and of every living creature that moveth in the waters, and
creepeth on the earth:
11:47. That you may know the differences of the clean, and unclean, and
know what you ought to eat, and what to refuse.
Leviticus Chapter 12
The purification of women after childbirth.
12:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
12:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  If a
woman having received seed shall bear a man child, she shall be unclean
seven days, according to the days of separation of her flowers.
12:3. And on the eighth day the infant shall be circumcised:
12:4. But she shall remain three and thirty days in the blood of her
purification.  She shall touch no holy thing:  neither shall she enter
into the sanctuary, until the days of her purification, be fulfilled.
12:5. But if she shall bear a maid child, she shall be unclean two
weeks, according to the custom of her monthly courses.  And she shall
remain in the blood of her purification sixty-six days.
12:6. And when the days of her purification are expired, for a son, or
for a daughter, she shall bring to the door of the tabernacle of the
testimony, a lamb of a year old for a holocaust, and a young pigeon or
a turtle for sin:  and shall deliver them to the priest.
12:7. Who shall offer them before the Lord, and shall pray for her:  and
so she shall be cleansed from the issue of her blood.  This is the law
for her that beareth a man child or a maid child.
12:8. And if her hand find not sufficiency, and she is not able to
offer a lamb, she shall take two turtles, or two young pigeons, one for
a holocaust, and another for sin:  and the priest shall pray for her,
and so she shall be cleansed.
Leviticus Chapter 13
The law concerning leprosy in men, and in garments.
13:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
13:2. The man in whose skin or flesh shall arise a different colour or
a blister, or as it were something shining, that is the stroke of the
leprosy, shall be brought to Aaron the priest, or any or of his sons.
13:3. And if he see the leprosy in his skin, and the hair turned white
and the place where the leprosy appears lower than the skin and the
rest of the flesh:  it is the stroke of the leprosy, and upon his
judgment he shall be separated.
13:4. But if there be a shining whiteness in the skin, and not lower
than the other flesh, and the hair be of the former colour, the priest
shall shut him up seven days.
13:5. And the seventh day he shall look on him:  and if the leprosy be
grown no farther, and hath not spread itself in the skin, he shall shut
him up again other seven days.
13:6. And on the seventh day, he shall look on him.  If the leprosy be
somewhat obscure, and not spread in the skin, he shall declare him
clean, because it is but a scab:  and the man shall wash his clothes,
and shall be clean.
13:7. But, if the leprosy grow again, after he was seen by the priest
and restored to cleanness, he shall be brought to him:
13:8. And shall be condemned of uncleanness.
13:9. If the stroke of the leprosy be in a man, he shall be brought to
13:10. And he shall view him.  And when there shall be a white colour in
the skin, and it shall have changed the look of the hair, and the
living flesh itself shall appear:
13:11. It shall be judged an inveterate leprosy, and grown into the
skin.  The priest therefore shall declare him unclean:  and shall not
shut him up, because he is evidently unclean.
13:12. But if the leprosy spring out running about in the skin, and
cover all the skin from the head to the feet, whatsoever falleth under
the sight of the eyes:
13:13. The priest shall view him, and shall judge that the leprosy
which he has is very clean:  because it is all turned into whiteness,
and therefore the man shall be clean.
13:14. But when the live flesh shall appear in him:
13:15. Then by the judgment of the priest he shall be defiled, and
shall be reckoned among the unclean.  For live flesh, if it be spotted
with leprosy, is unclean.
13:16. And if again it be turned into whiteness, and cover all the man:
13:17. The priest shall view him, and shall judge him to be clean.
13:18. When also there has been an ulcer in the flesh and the skin, and
it has been healed:
13:19. And in the place of the ulcer, there appeareth a white scar, or
somewhat red, the man shall be brought to the priest.
13:20. And when he shall see the place of the leprosy lower than the
other flesh, and the hair turned white:  he shall declare him unclean,
for the plague of leprosy is broken out in the ulcer.
13:21. But if the hair be of the former colour, and the scar somewhat
obscure, and be not lower than the flesh that is near it:  he shall shut
him up seven days.
13:22. And if it spread, he shall judge him to have the leprosy:
13:23. But if it stay in its place, it is but the scar of an ulcer:  and
the man shall be clean.
13:24. The flesh also and skin that hath been burnt, and after it is
healed hath a white or a red scar:
13:25. The priest shall view it, and if he see it turned white, and the
place thereof is lower than the other skin:  he shall declare him
unclean, because the evil of leprosy is broken out in the scar.
13:26. But if the colour of the hair be not changed, nor the blemish
lower than the other flesh, and the appearance of the leprosy be
somewhat obscure:  he shall shut him up seven days,
13:27. And on the seventh day he shall view him.  If the leprosy be
grown farther in the skin, he shall declare him unclean.
13:28. But if the whiteness stay in its place, and be not very clear,
it is the sore of a burning:  and therefore he shall be cleansed,
because it is only the scar of a burning.
13:29. If the leprosy break out in the head or the beard of a man or
woman, the priest shall see them,
13:30. And if the place be lower than the other flesh, and the hair
yellow, and thinner than usual:  he shall declare them unclean, because
it is the leprosy of the head and the beard;
13:31. But if he perceive the place of the spot is equal with the flesh
that is near it, and the hair black:  he shall shut him up seven days,
13:32. And on the seventh day he shall look upon it.  If the spot be not
grown, and the hair keep its colour, and the place of the blemish be
even with the other flesh:
13:33. The man shall be shaven all but the place of the spot:  and he
shall be shut up other seven days.
13:34. If on the seventh day the evil seem to have stayed in its place,
and not lower than the other flesh, he shall cleanse him:  and his
clothes being washed he shall be clean.
13:35. But if after his cleansing the spot spread again in the skin:
13:36. He shall seek no more whether the hair be turned yellow, because
he is evidently unclean.
13:37. But if the spot be stayed, and the hair be black, let him know
that the man is healed:  and let him confidently pronounce him clean.
13:38. If a whiteness appear in the skin of a man or a woman,
13:39. The priest shall view them.  If he find that a darkish whiteness
shineth in the skin, let him know that it is not the leprosy, but a
white blemish, and that the man is clean.
13:40. The man whose hair falleth off from his head, he is bald and
13:41. And if the hair fall from his forehead, he is bald before and
13:42. But if in the bald head or in the bald forehead there be risen a
white or reddish colour:
13:43. And the priest perceive this, he shall condemn him undoubtedly
of leprosy which is risen in the bald part.
13:44. Now whosoever shall be defiled with the leprosy, and is
separated by the judgment of the priest:
13:45. Shall have his clothes hanging loose, his head bare, his mouth
covered with a cloth:  and he shall cry out that he is defiled and
13:46. All the time that he is a leper and unclean he shall dwell alone
without the camp.
13:47. A woollen or linen garment that shall have the leprosy
13:48. In the warp, and the woof:  or skin, or whatsoever is made of a
13:49. If it be infected with a white or red spot, it shall be
accounted the leprosy, and shall be shewn to the priest.
13:50. And he shall look upon it and shall shut it up seven days.
13:51. And on the seventh day when he looketh on it again, if he find
that it is grown, it is a fixed leprosy.  He shall judge the garment
unclean, and every thing wherein it shall be found.
13:52. And therefore it shall be burnt with fire.
13:53. But if he see that it is not grown,
13:54. He shall give orders, and they shall wash that part wherein the
leprosy is:  and he shall shut it up other seven days.
13:55. And when he shall see that the former colour is not returned,
nor yet the leprosy spread, he shall judge it unclean:  and shall burn
it with fire, for the leprosy has taken hold of the outside of the
garment, or through the whole.
13:56. But if the place of the leprosy be somewhat dark, after the
garment is washed, he shall tear it off, and divide it from that which
13:57. And if after this there appear in those places that before were
without spot, a flying and wandering leprosy:  it must be burnt with
13:58. If it cease, he shall wash with water the parts that are pure,
the second time:  and they shall be clean.
13:59. This is the law touching the leprosy of any woollen or linen
garment, either in the warp or woof, or any thing of skins:  how it
ought to be cleaned, or pronounced unclean.
Leviticus Chapter 14
The rites of sacrifices in cleansing the leprosy.  Leprosy in houses.
14:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
14:2. This is the rite of a leper, when he is to be cleansed.  He shall
be brought to the priest:
14:3. Who going out of the camp, when he shall find that the leprosy is
14:4. Shall command him that is to be purified, to offer for himself
two living sparrows, which it is lawful to eat, and cedar wood, and
scarlet, and hyssop.
14:5. And he shall command one of the sparrows to be immolated in an
earthen vessel over living waters.
Living waters. . .That is, waters taken from a spring, brook, or river.
14:6. But the other that is alive, he shall dip, with the cedar wood,
and the scarlet and the hyssop, in the blood of the sparrow that is
14:7. Wherewith he shall sprinkle him that is to be cleansed seven
times, that he may be rightly purified.  And he shall let go the living
sparrow, that it may fly into the field.
14:8. And when the man hath washed his clothes, he shall shave all the
hair of his body, and shall be washed with water:  and being purified he
shall enter into the camp, yet so that he tarry without his own tent
14:9. And on the seventh day he shall shave the hair of his head, and
his beard and his eyebrows, and the hair of all his body.  And having
washed again his clothes, and his body,
14:10. On the eighth day, he shall take two lambs without blemish, and
an ewe of a year old without blemish, and three tenths of flour
tempered with oil for a sacrifice, and a sextary of oil apart.
A sextary. . .Heb. log:  a measure of liquids, which was the twelfth part
of a hin; and held about as much as six eggs.
14:11. And when the priest that purifieth the man, hath presented him,
and all these things before the Lord, at the door of the tabernacle of
the testimony:
14:12. He shall take a lamb, and offer it for a trespass offering with
the sextary of oil.  And having offered all before the Lord,
14:13. He shall immolate the lamb, where the victim for sin is wont to
be immolated, and the holocaust, that is, in the holy place.  For as
that which is for sin, so also the victim for a trespass offering
pertaineth to the priest:  it is holy of holies.
14:14. And the priest taking of the blood of the victim that was
immolated for trespass, shall put it upon the tip of the right ear of
him that is cleansed, and upon the thumb of his right hand and the
great toe of his right foot.
Taking of the blood, etc. . .These ceremonies used in the cleansing of a
leper, were mysterious and very significative.  The sprinkling seven
times with the blood of the little bird, the washing himself and his
clothes, the shaving his hair and his beard, signify the means which
are to be used in the reconciliation of a sinner, and the steps by
which he is to return to God, viz., by the repeated application of the
blood of Christ:  the washing his conscience with the waters of
compunction:  and retrenching all vanities and superfluities, by
employing all that is over and above what is necessary in alms deeds.
The sin offering, and the holocaust or burnt offering, which he was to
offer at his cleansing, signify the sacrifice of a contrite and humble
heart, and that of adoration in spirit and truth, with gratitude and
thankfulness, for the forgiveness of sins, with which we are ever to
appear before the Almighty.  The touching the right ear, the thumb of
the right hand, and the great toe of the right foot, first with the
blood of the victim, and then with the remainder of the oil, which had
been sprinkled seven times before the Lord, signify the application of
the blood of Christ, and the unction of the sevenfold grace of the Holy
Ghost; to the sinner's right ear, that he may duly hearken to and obey
the law of God; and to his right hand and foot, that the works of his
hands, and all the steps or affections of his soul, signified by the
feet, may be rightly directed to God.
14:15. And he shall pour of the sextary of oil into his own left hand,
14:16. And shall dip his right finger in it, and sprinkle it before the
Lord seven times.
14:17. And the rest of the oil in his left hand, he shall pour upon the
tip of the right ear of him that is cleansed, and upon the thumb of his
right hand and the great toe of his right foot, and upon the blood that
was shed for trespass:
14:18. And upon his head.
14:19. And he shall pray for him before the Lord, and shall offer the
sacrifice for sin.  Then shall he immolate the holocaust.
14:20. And put it on the altar with the libations thereof:  and the man
shall be rightly cleansed.
14:21. But if he be poor, and his hand cannot find the things
aforesaid:  he shall take a lamb for an offering for trespass, that the
priest may pray for him, and a tenth part of flour tempered with oil
for a sacrifice, and a sextary of oil:
14:22. And two turtles or two young pigeons, of which one may be for
sin, and the other for a holocaust.
14:23. And he shall offer them on the eighth day of his purification to
the priest, at the door of the tabernacle of the testimony before the
14:24. And the priest receiving the lamb for trespass, and the sextary
of oil, shall elevate them together.
14:25. And the lamb being immolated, he shall put of the blood thereof
upon the tip of the right ear of him that is cleansed, and upon the
thumb of his right hand, and the great toe of his right foot.
14:26. But he shall pour part of the oil into his own left hand,
14:27. And dipping the finger of his right hand in it, he shall
sprinkle it seven times before the Lord.
14:28. And he shall touch the tip of the right ear of him that is
cleansed, and the thumb of his right hand and the great toe of his
right foot, in the place of the blood that was shed for trespass.
14:29. And the other part of the oil that is in his left hand, he shall
pour upon the head of the purified person, that he may appease the Lord
14:30. And he shall offer a turtle, or young pigeon:
14:31. One for trespass, and the other for a holocaust, with their
14:32. This is the sacrifice of a leper, that is not able to have all
things that appertain to his cleansing.
14:33. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
14:34. When you shall come into the land of Chanaan, which I will give
you for a possession, if there be the plague or leprosy in a house:
14:35. He whose house it is, shall go and tell the priest, saying:  It
seemeth to me, that there is the plague of leprosy in my house,
14:36. And he shall command, that they carry forth all things out of
the house, before he go into it, and see whether it have the leprosy,
let all things become unclean that are in the house.  And afterwards he
shall go in to view the leprosy of the house.
14:37. And if he see in the walls thereof as it were little dints,
disfigured with paleness or redness, and lower than all he rest:
14:38. He shall go out of the door of the house, and forthwith shut it
up seven days,
14:39. And returning on the seventh day, he shall look upon it.  If he
find that the leprosy is spread,
14:40. He shall command, that the stones wherein the leprosy is, be
taken out, and cast without the city into an unclean place:
14:41. And that the house be scraped on the inside round about, and the
dust of the scrapings be scattered without the city into an unclean
14:42. And that other stones be laid in the place of them that were
taken away, and the house be plastered with other mortar.
14:43. But if after the stones be taken out, and the dust scraped off,
and it be plastered with other earth.
14:44. The priest going in perceive that the leprosy is returned, and
the walls full of spots, it is a lasting leprosy, and the house is
14:45. And they shall destroy it forthwith, and shall cast the stones
and timber thereof, and all the dust without the town into an unclean
14:46. He that entereth into the house when it is shut, shall be
unclean until evening,
14:47. And he that sleepeth in it, and eateth any thing, shall wash his
14:48. But if the priest going in perceive that the leprosy is not
spread in the house, after it was plastered again, he shall purify it,
it being cured.
14:49. And for the purification thereof he shall take two sparrows, and
cedar wood, and scarlet, and hyssop.
14:50. And having immolated one sparrow in an earthen vessel, over
living waters,
14:51. He shall take the cedar wood, and the hyssop, and the scarlet,
and the living sparrow, and shall dip all in the blood of the sparrow
that is immolated, and in the living water:  and he shall sprinkle the
house seven times.
14:52. And shall purify it as well with the blood of the sparrow, as
with the living water, and with the living sparrow, and with the cedar
wood, and the hyssop, and the scarlet.
14:53. And when he hath let go the sparrow to fly freely away into the
field, he shall pray for the house:  and it shall be rightly cleansed.
14:54. This is the law of every kind of leprosy and stroke.
14:55. Of the leprosy of garments and houses,
14:56. Of a scar and of blisters breaking out of a shining spot, and
when the colours are diversely changed:
14:57. That it may be known when a thing is clean or unclean.
Leviticus Chapter 15
Other legal uncleannesses.
15:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
15:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and say to them:  The man that
hath an issue of seed, shall be unclean.
Issue of seed shall be unclean. . .These legal uncleannesses were
instituted in order to give the people a horror of carnal impurities.
15:3. And then shall he be judged subject to this evil, when a filthy
humour, at every moment, cleaveth to his flesh, and gathereth there.
15:4. Every bed on which he sleepeth, shall be unclean, and every place
on which he sitteth.
15:5. If any man touch his bed, he shall wash his clothes and being
washed with water, he shall be unclean until the evening.
15:6. If a man sit where that man hath sitten, he also shall wash his
clothes:  and being washed with water, shall be unclean until the
15:7. He that toucheth his flesh, shall wash his clothes:  and being
himself washed with water shall be unclean until the evening.
15:8. If such a man cast his spittle upon him that is clean, he shall
wash his clothes:  and being washed with water, he shall be unclean
until the evening.
15:9. The saddle on which he hath sitten shall be unclean.
15:10. And whatsoever has been under him that hath the issue of seed,
shall be unclean until the evening.  He that carrieth any of these
things, shall wash his clothes:  and being washed with water, he shall
be unclean until the evening.
15:11. Every person whom such a one shall touch, not having washed his
hands before, shall wash his clothes:  and being washed with water,
shall be unclean until the evening.
15:12. If he touch a vessel of earth, it shall be broken:  but if a
vessel of wood, it shall be washed with water.
15:13. If he who suffereth this disease be healed, he shall number
seven days after his cleansing:  and having washed his clothes, and all
his body in living water, he shall be clean.
15:14. And on the eighth day he shall take two turtles, or two young
pigeons, and he shall come before the Lord, to the door of the
tabernacle of the testimony, and shall give them to the priest.
15:15. Who shall offer one for sin, and the other for a holocaust:  and
he shall pray for him before the Lord, that he may be cleansed of the
issue of his seed.
15:16. The man from whom the seed of copulation goeth out, shall wash
all his body with water:  and he shall be unclean until the evening.
15:17. The garment or skin that he weareth, he shall wash with water:
and it shall be unclean until the evening.
15:18. The woman, with whom he copulateth, shall be washed with water:
and shall be unclean until the evening.
15:19. The woman, who at the return of the month, hath her issue of
blood, shall be separated seven days.
15:20. Every one that toucheth her, shall be unclean until the evening.
15:21. And every thing that she sleepeth on, or that she sitteth on in
the days of her separation, shall be defiled.
15:22. He that toucheth her bed shall wash his clothes:  and being
himself washed with water, shall be unclean until the evening.
15:23. Whosoever shall touch any vessel on which she sitteth, shall
wash his clothes:  and himself being washed with water, shall be defiled
until the evening.
15:24. If a man copulateth with her in the time of her flowers, he
shall be unclean seven days:  and every bed on which he shall sleep,
shall be defiled.
15:25. The woman that hath still issue of blood many days out of her
ordinary time, or that ceaseth not to flow after the monthly courses,
as long as she is subject to this disease, shall be unclean, in the
same manner as if she were in her flowers.
15:26. Every bed on which she sleepeth, and every vessel on which she
sitteth, shall be defiled.
15:27. Whosoever toucheth them shall wash his clothes:  and himself
being washed with water, shall be unclean until the evening.
15:28. If the blood stop and cease to run, she shall count seven days
of her purification:
15:29. And on the eighth day she shall offer for herself to the priest,
two turtles, or two young pigeons, at the door of the tabernacle of the
15:30. And he shall offer one for sin, and the other for a holocaust,
and he shall pray for her before the Lord, and for the issue of her
uncleanness.
15:31. You shall teach therefore the children of Israel to take heed of
uncleanness, that they may not die in their filth, when they shall have
defiled my tabernacle that is among them.
15:32. This is the law of him that hath the issue of seed, and that is
defiled by copulation.
15:33. And of the woman that is separated in her monthly times, or that
hath a continual issue of blood, and of the man that sleepeth with her.
Leviticus Chapter 16
When and how the high priest must enter into the sanctuary.  The feast
of expiation.
16:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, after the death of the two sons of
Aaron when they were slain upon their offering strange fire:
16:2. And he commanded him, saying:  Speak to Aaron thy brother, that he
enter not at all into the sanctuary, which is within the veil before
the propitiatory, with which the ark is covered, lest he die, (for I
will appear in a cloud over the oracle),
Enter not. . .No one but the high priest, and he but once a year, could
enter into the sanctuary; to signify that no one could enter into the
sanctuary of heaven, till Christ our high priest opened it by his
passion.  Heb. 10.8.
16:3. Unless he first do these things.  He shall offer a calf for sin,
and a ram for a holocaust.
16:4. He shall be vested with a linen tunick:  he shall cover his
nakedness with linen breeches:  he shall be girded with a linen girdle,
and he shall put a linen mitre upon his head.  For these are holy
vestments:  all which he shall put on, after he is washed.
16:5. And he shall receive from the whole multitude of the children of
Israel two buck goats for sin, and one ram for a holocaust.
16:6. And when he hath offered the cattle and prayed for himself and
for his own house:
16:7. He shall make the two buck goats to stand before the Lord in the
door of the tabernacle of the testimony.
16:8. And casting lots upon them both, one to be offered to the Lord,
and the other to be the emissary goat:
16:9. That whose lot fell to be offered to the Lord, he shall offer for
16:10. But that whose lot was to be the emissary goat, he shall present
before the Lord, that he may pour prayers upon him, and let him go into
the wilderness.
16:11. After these things are duly celebrated, he shall offer the calf:
and praying for himself and for his own house, he shall immolate it.
16:12. And taking the censer, which he hath filled with the burning
coals of the altar, and taking up with his hands the compounded perfume
for incense, he shall go in within the veil into the holy place:
16:13. That when the perfumes are put upon the fire, the cloud and
vapour thereof may cover the oracle, which is over the testimony, and
he may not die.
16:14. He shall take also of the blood of the calf, and sprinkle with
his finger seven times towards the propitiatory to the east.
16:15. And when he hath killed the buck goat for the sin of the people,
he shall carry in the blood thereof within the veil, as he was
commanded to do with the blood of the calf, that he may sprinkle it
over against the oracle:
16:16. And may expiate the sanctuary from the uncleanness of the
children of Israel, and from their transgressions, and all their sins.
According to this rite shall he do to the tabernacle of the testimony,
which is fixed among them in the midst of the filth of their
16:17. Let no man be in the tabernacle when the high priest goeth into
the sanctuary, to pray for himself and his house, and for the whole
congregation of Israel, until he come out.
16:18. And when he is come out to the altar that is before the Lord,
let him pray for himself:  and taking the blood of the calf, and of the
buck goat, let him pour it upon the horns thereof round about.
16:19. And sprinkling with his finger seven times, let him expiate, and
sanctify it from the uncleanness of the children of Israel.
16:20. After he hath cleaned the sanctuary, and the tabernacle, and the
altar, then let him offer the living goat.
16:21. And putting both hands upon his head, let him confess all the
iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their offences and sins.
And praying that they may light on its head, he shall turn him out by a
man ready for it, into the desert.
16:22. And when the goat hath carried all their iniquities into an
uninhabited land, and shall be let go into the desert:
16:23. Aaron shall return into the tabernacle of the testimony, and
putting off the vestments, which he had on him before when he entered
into the sanctuary, and leaving them there,
16:24. He shall wash his flesh in the holy place, and shall put on his
own garments.  And after that he is come out and hath offered his own
holocaust, and that of the people, he shall pray both for himself, and
for the people.
16:25. And the fat that is offered for sins, he shall burn on the
16:26. But he that hath let go the emissary goat, shall wash his
clothes, and his body with water, and so shall enter into the camp.
16:27. But the calf and the buck goat, that were sacrificed for sin,
and whose blood was carried into the sanctuary, to accomplish the
atonement, they shall carry forth without the camp, and shall burn with
fire:  their skins and their flesh, and their dung.
16:28. And whosoever burneth them shall wash his clothes, and flesh
with water:  and so shall enter into the camp.
16:29. And this shall be to you an everlasting ordinance.  The seventh
month, the tenth day of the month, you shall afflict your souls, and
shall do no work, whether it be one of your own country, or a stranger
that sojourneth among you.
16:30. Upon this day shall be the expiation for you, and the cleansing
from all your sins.  You shall be cleansed before the Lord.
16:31. For it is a sabbath of rest:  and you shall afflict your souls by
a perpetual religion.
16:32. And the priest that is anointed, and whose hands are consecrated
to do the office of the priesthood in his father's stead, shall make
atonement.  And he shall be vested with the linen robe and the holy
16:33. And he shall expiate the sanctuary and the tabernacle of the
testimony and the altar:  the priest also and all the people.
16:34. And this shall be an ordinance for ever, that you pray for the
children of Israel, and for all their sins once a year.  He did
therefore as the Lord had commanded Moses.
Leviticus Chapter 17
No sacrifices to be offered but at the door of the tabernacle:  a
prohibition of blood.
17:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
17:2. Speak to Aaron and his sons, and to all the children of Israel,
saying to them:  This is the word, which the Lord hath commanded,
17:3. Any man whosoever of the house of Israel, if he kill an ox, or a
sheep, or a goat in the camp, or without the camp,
If he kill, etc. . .That is, in order to sacrifice.  The law of God
forbids sacrifices to be offered in any other place but at the
tabernacle or temple of the Lord; to signify that no sacrifice would be
acceptable to God, out of his true temple, the one holy, catholic,
apostolic church.
17:4. And offer it not at the door of the tabernacle an oblation to the
Lord, shall be guilty of blood.  As if he had shed blood, so shall he
perish from the midst of his people.
17:5. Therefore the children of Israel shall bring to the priest their
victims, which they kill in the field, that they may be sanctified to
the Lord before the door of the tabernacle of the testimony:  and they
may sacrifice them for peace offerings to the Lord.
17:6. And the priest shall pour the blood upon the altar of the Lord,
at the door of the tabernacle of the testimony:  and shall burn the fat
for a sweet odour to the Lord.
17:7. And they shall no more sacrifice their victims to devils, with
whom they have committed fornication.  It shall be an ordinance for ever
to them and to their posterity.
17:8. And thou shalt say to them:  The man of the house of Israel, and
of the strangers who sojourn among you, that offereth a holocaust or a
17:9. And bringeth it not to the door of the tabernacle of the
testimony, that it may be offered to the Lord, shall perish from among
17:10. If any man whosoever of the house of Israel, and of the
strangers that sojourn among them, eat blood, I will set my face
against his soul, and will cut him off from among his people.
Eat blood. . .To eat blood was forbidden in the law; partly, because God
reserved it to himself, to be offered in sacrifices on the altar, as to
the Lord of life and death; and as a figure of the blood of Christ; and
partly, to give men a horror of shedding blood.  Gen. 9.4, 5, 6.
17:11. Because the life of the flesh is in the blood:  and I have given
it to you, that you may make atonement with it upon the altar for your
souls, and the blood may be for an expiation of the soul.
17:12. Therefore I have said to the children of Israel:  No soul of you,
nor of the strangers that sojourn among you, shall eat blood.
17:13. Any man whosoever of the children of Israel, and of the
strangers that sojourn among you, if by hunting or fowling, he take a
wild beast or a bird, which is lawful to eat, let him pour out its
blood, and cover it with earth.
17:14. For the life of all flesh is in the blood.  Therefore I said to
the children of Israel:  you shall not eat the blood of any flesh at
all, because the life of the flesh is in the blood, and whosoever
eateth it, shall be cut off.
17:15. The soul that eateth that which died of itself, or has been
caught by a beast, whether he be one of your own country or a stranger,
shall wash his clothes and himself with water, and shall be defiled
until the evening:  and in this manner he shall be made clean.
17:16. But if he do not wash his clothes, and his body, he shall bear
his iniquity.
Leviticus Chapter 18
Marriage is prohibited in certain degrees of kindred:  Anda all
unnatural lusts.
18:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
18:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  I am
the Lord your God.
18:3. You shall not do according to the custom of the land of Egypt, in
which you dwelt:  neither shall you act according to the manner of the
country of Chanaan, into which I will bring you.  Nor shall you walk in
their ordinances.
18:4. You shall do my judgments, and shall observe my precepts, and
shall walk in them.  I am the Lord your God.
18:5. Keep my laws and my judgments:  which if a man do, he shall live
in them, I am the Lord.
18:6. No man shall approach to her that is near of kin to him, to
uncover her nakedness.  I am the Lord.
18:7. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy father, or the
nakedness of thy mother:  she is thy mother, thou shalt not uncover her
18:8. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy father's wife:  for it
is the nakedness of thy father.
18:9. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy sister by father or
by mother:  whether born at home or abroad.
18:10. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy son's daughter, or
thy daughter's daughter:  because it is thy own nakedness.
18:11. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy father's wife's
daughter, whom she bore to thy father:  and who is thy sister.
18:12. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy father's sister:
because she is the flesh of thy father.
18:13. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy mother's sister:
because she is thy mother's flesh.
18:14. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy father's brother:
neither shalt thou approach to his wife, who is joined to thee by
18:15. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy daughter in law:
because she is thy son's wife, neither shalt thou discover her shame.
18:16. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy brother's wife:
because it is the nakedness of thy brother.
18:17. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy wife and her
daughter.  Thou shalt not take her son's daughter or her daughter's
daughter, to discover her shame:  because they are her flesh, and such
copulation is incest.
18:18. Thou shalt not take thy wife's sister for a harlot, to rival
her:  neither shalt thou discover her nakedness, while she is yet
18:19. Thou shalt not approach to a woman having her flowers:  neither
shalt thou uncover her nakedness.
18:20. Thou shalt not lie with thy neighbour's wife:  nor be defiled
with mingling of seed.
18:21. Thou shalt not give any of thy seed to be consecrated to the
idol Moloch, nor defile the name of thy God.  I am the Lord.
18:22. Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind:  because it is
an abomination.
18:23. Thou shalt not copulate with any beast:  neither shalt thou be
defiled with it.  A woman shall not lie down to a beast, nor copulate
with it:  because it is a heinous crime.
Because it is a heinous crime. . .In Hebrew, this word heinous crime is
expressed by the word confusion, signifying the shamefulness and
baseness of this abominable sin.
18:24. Defile not yourselves with any of these things with which all
the nations have been defiled, which I will cast out before you,
18:25. And with which the land is defiled:  the abominations of which I
will visit, that it may vomit out its inhabitants.
18:26. Keep ye my ordinances and my judgments:  and do not any of these
abominations.  Neither any of your own nation, nor any stranger that
sojourneth among you.
18:27. For all these detestable things the inhabitants of the land have
done, that were before you, and have defiled it.
18:28. Beware then, lest in like manner, it vomit you also out, if you
do the like things:  as it vomited out the nation that was before you.
18:29. Every soul that shall commit any of these abominations, shall
perish from the midst of his people.
18:30. Keep my commandments.  Do not the things which they have done,
that have been before you:  and be not defiled therein.  I am the Lord
Leviticus Chapter 19
Divers ordinances, partly moral, partly ceremonial or judicial.
19:1. The Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
19:2. Speak to all the congregation of the children of Israel.  And thou
shalt say to them:  Be ye holy, because I the Lord your God am holy.
19:3. Let every one fear his father, and his mother.  Keep my sabbaths.
I am the Lord your God.
19:4. Turn ye not to idols:  nor make to yourselves molten gods.  I am
the Lord your God.
19:5. If ye offer in sacrifice a peace offering to the Lord, that he
may be favourable:
19:6. You shall eat it on the same day it was offered, and the next
day.  And whatsoever shall be left until the third day, you shall burn
19:7. If after two days any man eat thereof, he shall be profane and
guilty of impiety:
19:8. And shall bear his iniquity, because he hath defiled the holy
thing of the Lord.  And that soul shall perish from among his people.
19:9. When thou reapest the corn of thy land, thou shalt not cut down
all that is on the face of the earth to the very ground:  nor shalt thou
gather the ears that remain.
19:10. Neither shalt thou gather the bunches and grapes that fall down
in thy vineyard:  but shalt leave them to the poor and the strangers to
take.  I am the Lord your God.
19:11. You shall not steal.  You shall not lie:  neither shall any man
deceive his neighbour.
19:12. Thou shalt not swear falsely by my name, nor profane the name of
thy God.  I am the Lord.
19:13. Thou shalt not calumniate thy neighbour, nor oppress him by
violence.  The wages of him that hath been hired by thee shall not abide
with thee until the morning.
19:14. Thou shalt not speak evil of the deaf, nor put a stumbling block
before the blind:  but thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, because I am
19:15. Thou shalt not do that which is unjust, nor judge unjustly.
Respect not the person of the poor:  nor honour the countenance of the
mighty.  But judge thy neighbour according to justice.
19:16. Thou shalt not be a detractor nor a whisperer among the people.
Thou shalt not stand against the blood of thy neighbour.  I am the Lord.
19:17. Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart:  But reprove him
openly, lest thou incur sin through him.
19:18. Seek not revenge, nor be mindful of the injury of thy citizens.
Thou shalt love thy friend as thyself.  I am the Lord.
19:19. Keep ye my laws.  Thou shalt not make thy cattle to gender with
beasts of any other kind.  Thou shalt not sow thy field with different
seeds.  Thou shalt not wear a garment that is woven of two sorts.
Different seeds, etc. . .This law tends to recommend simplicity and
plain dealing in all things, and to teach the people not to join any
false worship or heresy with the worship of the true God.
19:20. If a man carnally lie with a woman that is a bondservant and
marriageable, and yet not redeemed with a price, nor made free:  they
both shall be scourged:  and they shall not be put to death, because she
was not a free woman.
19:21. And for his trespass he shall offer a ram to the Lord, at the
door of the tabernacle of the testimony.
19:22. And the priest shall pray for him:  and for his sin before the
Lord:  and he shall have mercy on him, and the sin shall be forgiven.
19:23. When you shall be come into the land, and shall have planted in
it fruit trees, you shall take away the firstfruits of them.  The fruit
that comes forth shall be unclean to you:  neither shall you eat of
Firstfruits. . .Proeputia, literally, their foreskins; it alludes to
circumcision, and signifies that for the first three years the trees
were to be as uncircumcised, and their fruit unclean:  till in the
fourth year their increase was sanctified and given to the Lord, that
is, to the priests.
19:24. But in the fourth year, all their fruit shall be sanctified, to
the praise of the Lord.
19:25. And in the fifth year you shall eat the fruits thereof,
gathering the increase thereof.  I am the Lord your God.
19:26. You shall not eat with blood.  You shall not divine nor observe
19:27. Nor shall you cut your hair roundwise:  nor shave your beard.
19:28. You shall not make any cuttings in your flesh, for the dead:
neither shall you make in yourselves any figures or marks.  I am the
19:29. Make not thy daughter a common strumpet, lest the land be
defiled, and filled with wickedness.
19:30. Keep ye my sabbaths, and reverence my sanctuary.  I am the Lord.
19:31. Go not aside after wizards:  neither ask any thing of
soothsayers, to be defiled by them.  I am the Lord your God.
19:32. Rise up before the hoary head, and honour the person of the aged
man:  and fear the Lord thy God.  I am the Lord.
19:33. If a stranger dwell in your land, and abide among you, do not
upbraid hin:
19:34. But let him be among you as one of the same country.  And you
shall love him as yourselves:  for you were strangers in the land of
Egypt.  I am the Lord your God.
19:35. Do not any unjust thing in judgment, in rule, in weight, or in
19:36. Let the balance be just and the weights equal, the bushel just,
and the sextary equal.  I am the Lord your God, that brought you out of
the land of Egypt.
19:37. Keep all my precepts, and all my judgments:  and do them.  I am
Leviticus Chapter 20
Divers crimes to be punished with death.
20:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
20:2. Thus shalt thou say to the children of Israel:  If any man of the
children Israel, or of the strangers that dwell in Israel, give of his
seed to the idol Moloch, dying let him die.  The people of the land
shall stone him.
20:3. And I will set my face against him:  and I will cut him off from
the midst of his people, because he hath given of his seed to Moloch,
and hath defiled my sanctuary, and profaned my holy name.
20:4. And if the people of the land neglecting, and as it were little
regarding my commandment, let alone the man that hath given of his seed
to Moloch, and will not kill him:
20:5. I will set my face against that man, and his kindred, and will
cut off both him and all that consented with him, to commit fornication
with Moloch, out of the midst of their people.
20:6. The soul that shall go aside after magicians, and soothsayers,
and shall commit fornication with them:  I will set my face against that
soul, and destroy it out of the midst of its people.
20:7. Sanctify yourselves, and be ye holy:  because I am the Lord your
20:8. Keep my precepts, and do them.  I am the Lord that sanctify you.
20:9. He that curseth his father, or mother, dying let him die.  He hath
cursed his father, and mother:  let his blood be upon him.
20:10. If any man commit adultery with the wife of another, and defile
his neighbour's wife:  let them be put to death, both the adulterer and
the adulteress.
20:11. If a man lie with his stepmother, and discover the nakedness of
his father, let them both be put to death:  their blood be upon them.
20:12. If any man lie with his daughter in law:  let both die, because
they have done a heinous crime.  Their blood be upon them.
20:13. If any one lie with a man as with a woman, both have committed
an abomination:  let them be put to death.  Their blood be upon them.
20:14. If any man after marrying the daughter, marry her mother, he
hath done a heinous crime.  He shall be burnt alive with them:  neither
shall so great an abomination remain in the midst of you.
20:15. He that shall copulate with any beast or cattle, dying let him
die:  the beast also ye shall kill.
The beast also ye shall kill. . .The killing of the beast was for the
greater horror of the crime, and to prevent the remembrance of such
abomination.
20:16. The woman that shall lie under any beast, shall be killed
together with the same.  Their blood be upon them.
20:17. If any man take his sister, the daughter of his father, or the
daughter of his mother, and see her nakedness, and she behold her
brother's shame:  they have committed a crime.  They shall be slain, in
the sight of their people, because they have discovered one another's
nakedness.  And they shall bear their iniquity.
20:18. If any man lie with a woman in her flowers, and uncover her
nakedness, and she open the fountain of her blood:  both shall be
destroyed out of the midst of their people.
20:19. Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy aunt by thy mother,
and of thy aunt by thy father.  He that doth this, hath uncovered the
shame of his own flesh:  both shall bear their iniquity.
20:20. If any man lie with the wife of his uncle by the father, or of
his uncle by the mother, and uncover the shame of his near akin, both
shall bear their sin.  They shall die without children.
20:21. He that marrieth his brother's wife, doth an unlawful thing:  he
hath uncovered his brother's nakedness.  They shall be without children.
20:22. Keep my laws and my judgments, and do them:  lest the land into
which you are to enter to dwell therein, vomit you also out.
20:23. Walk not after the laws of the nations, which I will cast out
before you.  For they have done all these things:  and therefore I
abhorred them.
20:24. But to you I say:  Possess their land which I will give you for
an inheritance, a land flowing with milk and honey.  I am the Lord your
God, who have separated you from other people.
20:25. Therefore do you also separate the clean beast from the unclean,
and the clean fowl from the unclean.  Defile not your souls with beasts,
or birds, or any things that move on the earth, and which I have shewn
you to be unclean:
20:26. You shall be holy unto me, because I the Lord am holy:  and I
have separated you from other people, that you should be mine.
20:27. A man, or woman, in whom there is a pythonical or divining
spirit, dying let them die.  They shall stone them.  Their blood be upon
Leviticus Chapter 21
Ordinances relating to the priests.
21:1. The Lord said also to Moses:  Speak to the priests the sons of
Aaron, and thou shalt say for them:  Let not a priest incur an
uncleanness at the death of his citizens.
An uncleanness. . .Viz., such as was contracted in laying out the dead
body, or touching it; or in going into the house, or assisting at the
funeral, etc.
21:2. But only for his kin, such as are near in blood:  that is to say,
for his father and for his mother, and for his son, and for his
daughter, for his brother also:
21:3. And for a maiden sister, who hath had no husband.
21:4. But not even for the prince of his people shall he do any thing
that may make him unclean.
21:5. Neither shall they shave their head, nor their beard, nor make
incisions in their flesh.
21:6. They shall be holy to their God, and shall not profane his name.
For they offer the burnt offering of the Lord, and the bread of their
God:  and therefore they shall be holy.
21:7. They shall not take to wife a harlot or a vile prostitute, nor
one that has been put away from her husband:  because they are
consecrated to their God,
21:8. And offer the loaves of proposition.  Let them therefore be holy
because I also am holy:  the Lord, who sanctify them.
21:9. If the daughter of a priest be taken in whoredom and dishonour
the name of her father, she shall be burnt with fire.
21:10. The high priest, that is to say, the priest who is the greatest
among his brethren, upon whose head the oil of unction hath been
poured; and whose hands have been consecrated for the priesthood; and
who hath been vested with the holy vestments.  He shall not uncover his
head:  he shall not rend his garments.
21:11. Nor shall he go in at all to any dead person:  not even for his
father, or his mother, shall he be defiled.
21:12. Neither shall he go out of the holy places, lest he defile the
sanctuary of the Lord:  because the oil of the holy unction of his God
is upon him.  I am the Lord.
21:13. He shall take a virgin unto his wife.
21:14. But a widow or one that is divorced, or defied, or a harlot, he
shall not take:  but a maid of his own people.
21:15. He shall not mingle the stock of his kindred with the common
people of this nation:  for I am the Lord who sanctify him.
21:16. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
21:17. Say to Aaron:  Whosoever of thy seed throughout their families,
hath a blemish, he shall not offer bread to his God.
21:18. Neither shall he approach to minister to him:  If he be blind; if
he be lame; if he have a little, or a great, or a crooked nose;
21:19. If his foot, or if his hand be broken;
21:20. If he be crookbacked; or blear eyed; or have a pearl in his eye,
or a continual scab, or a dry scurf in his body, or a rupture.
21:21. Whosoever of the seed of Aaron the priest hath a blemish:  he
shall not approach to offer sacrifices to the Lord, nor bread to his
21:22. He shall eat nevertheless of the loaves that are offered in the
21:23. Yet so that he enter not within the veil, nor approach to the
altar:  because he hath a blemish, and he must not defile my sanctuary.
I am the Lord who sanctify them.
21:24. Moses, therefore spoke to Aaron, and to his sons and to all
Israel, all the things that had been commanded him.
Leviticus Chapter 22
Who may eat the holy things:  and what things may be offered.
22:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses saying:
22:2. Speak to Aaron and to his sons, that they beware of those things
that are consecrated of the children of Israel:  and defile not the name
of the things sanctified to me, which they offer.  I am the Lord.
22:3. Say to them and to their posterity:  Every man of your race, that
approacheth to those things that are consecrated, and which the
children of Israel have offered to the Lord, in whom there is
uncleanness, shall perish before the Lord.  I am the Lord.
Approacheth, etc. . .This is to give us to understand, with what purity
of soul we are to approach to the blessed sacrament of which these
meats that had been offered in sacrifice were a figure.
22:4. The man of the seed of Aaron, that is a leper, or that suffereth
a running of the seed, shall not eat of those things that are
sanctified to me, until he be healed.  He that toucheth any thing
unclean by occasion of the dead:  and he whose seed goeth from him as in
22:5. And he that toucheth a creeping thing, or any unclean thing, the
touching of which is defiling:
22:6. Shall be unclean until the evening, and shall not eat those
things that are sanctified.  But when he hath washed his flesh with
22:7. And the sun is down, then being purified, he shall eat of the
sanctified things, because it is his meat.
22:8. That which dieth of itself, and that which was taken by a beast,
they shall not eat, nor be defiled therewith.  I am the Lord.
22:9. Let them keep my precepts, that they may not fall into sin, and
die in the sanctuary, when they shall have defiled it.  I am the Lord
who sanctify them.
22:10. No stranger shall eat of the sanctified things:  a sojourner of
the priests, or a hired servant, shall not eat of them.
22:11. But he whom the priest hath bought, and he that is his servant,
born in his house, these shall eat of them.
22:12. If the daughter of a priest be married to any of the people, she
shall not eat of those things that are sanctified nor of the
firstfruits.
22:13. But if she be a widow, or divorced, and having no children
return to her father's house, she shall eat of her father's meats, as
she was wont to do when she was a maid.  No stranger hath leave to eat
22:14. He that eateth of the sanctified things through ignorance, shall
add the fifth part with that which he ate, and shall give it to the
priest into the sanctuary.
22:15. And they shall not profane the sanctified things of the children
of Israel, which they offer to the Lord:
22:16. Lest perhaps they bear the iniquity of their trespass, when they
shall have eaten the sanctified things.  I am the Lord who sanctify
22:17. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
22:18. Speak to Aaron, and to his sons, and to all the children of
Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  The man of the house of Israel, and
of the strangers who dwell with you, that offereth his oblation, either
paying his vows, or offering of his own accord, whatsoever it be which
he presenteth for a holocaust of the Lord,
22:19. To be offered by you:  it shall be a male without blemish of the
beeves, or of the sheep, or of the goats.
22:20. If it have a blemish you shall not offer it:  neither shall it be
22:21. The man that offereth a victim of peace offerings to the Lord,
either paying his vows, or offering of his own accord, whether of
beeves or of sheep, shall offer it without blemish, that it may be
acceptable.  There shall be no blemish in it.
22:22. If it be blind, or broken, or have a scar or blisters, or a
scab, or a dry scurf:  you shall not offer them to the Lord, nor burn
any thing of them upon the Lord's altar.
22:23. An ox or a sheep, that hath the ear and the tail cut off, thou
mayst offer voluntarily:  but a vow may not be paid with them.
22:24. you shall not offer to the Lord any beast that hath the
testicles bruised, or crushed, or cut and taken away:  neither shall you
do any such things in your land.
22:25. you shall not offer bread to your God, from the hand of a
stranger, nor any other thing that he would give:  because they are all
corrupted, and defiled.  You shall not receive them.
22:26. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
22:27. When a bullock, or a sheep, or a goat, is brought forth, they
shall be seven days under the udder of their dam:  but the eighth day,
and thenceforth, they may be offered to the Lord.
22:28. Whether it be a cow, or a sheep, they shall not be sacrificed
the same day with their young ones.
22:29. If you immolate a victim for thanksgiving to the Lord, that he
may be favourable,
22:30. You shall eat it the same day.  There shall not any of it remain
until the morning of the next day.  I am the Lord.
22:31. Keep my commandments, and do them.  I am the Lord.
22:32. Profane not my holy name, that I may be sanctified in the midst
of the children of Israel.  I am the Lord who sanctify you:
22:33. And who brought you out of the land of Egypt, that I might be
your God.  I am the Lord.
Leviticus Chapter 23
Holy days to be kept.
23:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
23:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:
These are the feasts of the Lord, which you shall call holy.
23:3. Six days shall ye do work:  the seventh day, because it is the
rest of the sabbath, shall be called holy.  You shall do no work on that
day:  it is the sabbath of the Lord in all your habitations.
23:4. These also are the holy days of the Lord, which you must
celebrate in their seasons.
23:5. The first month, the fourteenth day of the month at evening, is
the phase of the Lord.
23:6. And the fifteenth day of the same month is the solemnity of the
unleavened bread of the Lord.  Seven days shall you eat unleavened
23:7. The first day shall be most solemn unto you, and holy:  you shall
do no servile work therein.
23:8. But you shall offer sacrifice in fire to the Lord seven days.  And
the seventh day shall be more solemn, and more holy:  and you shall do
no servile work therein.
23:9. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
23:10. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:
When you shall have entered into the land which I will give you, and
shall reap your corn, you shall bring sheaves of ears, the firstfruits
of your harvest to the priest.
23:11. Who shall lift up the sheaf before the Lord, the next day after
the sabbath, that it may be acceptable for you, and shall sanctify it.
23:12. And on the same day that the sheaf is consecrated, a lamb
without blemish of the first year shall be killed for a holocaust of
23:13. And the libations shall be offered with it:  two tenths of flour
tempered with oil, for a burnt offering of the Lord, and a most sweet
odour.  Libations also of wine, the fourth part of a hin.
23:14. You shall not eat either bread, or parched corn, or frumenty or
the harvest, until the day that you shall offer thereof to your God.  It
is a precept for ever throughout your generations, and all your
23:15. You shall count therefore from the morrow after the sabbath,
wherein you offered the sheaf of firstfruits, seven full weeks.
23:16. Even unto the morrow after the seventh week be expired, that is
to say, fifty days:  and so you shall offer a new sacrifice to the Lord.
23:17. Out of all your dwellings, two loaves of the firstfruits, of two
tenths of flour leavened, which you shall bake for the firstfruits of
23:18. And you shall offer with the loaves seven lambs without blemish
of the first year, and one calf from the herd, and they shall be for a
holocaust with their two rams:  and they shall be for a holocaust with
their libations for a most sweet odour to the Lord.
23:19. You shall offer also a buck goat for sin, and two lambs of the
first year for sacrifices of peace offerings.
23:20. And when the priest hath lifted them up with the loaves of the
firstfruits before the Lord, they shall fall to his use.
23:21. And you shall call this day most solemn, and most holy.  You
shall do no servile work therein.  It shall be an everlasting ordinance
in all your dwellings and generations.
23:22. And when you reap the corn of your land, you shall not cut it to
the very ground:  neither shall you gather the ears that remain.  But you
shall leave them for the poor and for the strangers.  I am the Lord your
23:23. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
23:24. Say to the children of Israel:  The seventh month, on the first
day of the month, you shall keep a sabbath, a memorial, with the sound
of trumpets, and it shall be called holy.
23:25. You shall do no servile work therein, and you shall offer a
holocaust to the Lord.
23:26. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
23:27. Upon the tenth day of this seventh month shall be the day of
atonement.  It shall be most solemn, and shall be called holy:  and you
shall await your souls on that day, and shall offer a holocaust to the
23:28. You shall do no servile work in the time of this day:  because it
is a day of propitiation, that the Lord your God may be merciful unto
23:29. Every soul that is not afflicted on this day, shall perish from
among his people.
23:30. And every soul that shall do any work, the same will I destroy
from among his people.
23:31. You shall do no work therefore on that day:  it shall be an
everlasting ordinance unto you in all your generations, and dwellings.
23:32. It is a sabbath of rest, and you shall afflict your souls
beginning on the ninth day of the month.  From evening until evening you
shall celebrate your sabbaths.
23:33. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
23:34. Say to the children of Israel:  From the fifteenth day of this
same seventh month, shall be kept the feast of tabernacles, seven days
to the Lord.
23:35. The first day shall be called most solemn and most holy:  you
shall do no servile work therein.  And seven days you shall offer
holocausts to the Lord.
23:36. The eighth day also shall be most solemn and most holy:  and you
shall offer holocausts to the Lord.  For it is the day of assembly and
congregation.  You shall do no servile work therein.
23:37. These are the feasts of the Lord which you shall call most
solemn and most holy, and shall offer on them oblations to the Lord:
holocausts and libations according to the rite of every day.
23:38. Besides the sabbaths of the Lord, and your gifts, and those
things that you offer by vow, or which you shall give to the Lord
voluntarily.
23:39. So from the fifteenth day of the seventh month, when you shall
have gathered in all the fruits of your land, you shall celebrate the
feast of the Lord seven days.  On the first day and the eighth shall be
a sabbath:  that is a day of rest.
23:40. And you shall take to you on the first day the fruits of the
fairest tree, and branches of palm trees, and boughs of thick trees,
and willows of the brook:  And you shall rejoice before the Lord your
23:41. And you shall keep the solemnity thereof seven days in the year.
It shall be an everlasting ordinance in your generations.  In the
seventh month shall you celebrate this feast.
23:42. And you shall dwell in bowers seven days.  Every one that is of
the race of Israel, shall dwell in tabernacles:
23:43. That your posterity may know, that I made the children of Israel
to dwell in tabernacles, when I brought them out of the land of Egypt.
I am the Lord your God.
23:44. And Moses spoke concerning the feasts of the Lord to the
children of Israel.
Leviticus Chapter 24
The oil for the lamps.  The loaves of proposition.  The punishment of
24:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
24:2. Command the children of Israel, that they bring unto thee the
finest and clearest oil of olives, to furnish the lamps continually,
24:3. Without the veil of the testimony in the tabernacle of the
covenant.  And Aaron shall set them from evening until morning before
the Lord, by a perpetual service and rite in your generations.
24:4. They shall be set upon the most pure candlestick before the Lord
continually.
24:5. Thou shalt take also fine flour, and shalt bake twelve loaves
thereof, two tenths shall be in every loaf.
24:6. And thou shalt set them six and six, one against another, upon
the most clean table before the Lord.
24:7. And thou shalt put upon them the clearest frankincense, that the
bread may be for a memorial of the oblation of the Lord.
24:8. Every sabbath they shall be changed before the Lord:  being
received of the children of Israel by an everlasting covenant.
24:9. And they shall be Aaron's and his sons', that they may eat them
in the holy place:  because it is most holy of the sacrifices of the
Lord by a perpetual right.
24:10. And behold there went out the son of a woman of Israel, whom she
had of an Egyptian, among the children of Israel:  and fell at words in
the camp with a man of Israel.
24:11. And when he had blasphemed the name, and had cursed it, he was
brought to Moses.  (Now his mother was called Salumith, the daughter of
Dabri, of the tribe of Dan.)
24:12. And they put him into prison, till they might know what the Lord
would command.
24:13. And the Lord spoke to Moses,
24:14. Saying:  Bring forth the blasphemer without the camp:  and let
them that heard him, put their hands upon his head:  and let all the
people stone him.
24:15. And thou shalt speak to the children of Israel:  The man that
curseth his God, shall bear his sin:
24:16. And he that blasphemeth the name of the Lord, dying let him die.
All the multitude shall stone him, whether he be a native or a
stranger.  He that blasphemeth the name of the Lord, dying let him die.
24:17. He that striketh and killeth a man:  dying let him die.
24:18. He that killeth a beast, shall make it good that is to say,
shall give beast for beast.
24:19. He that giveth a blemish to any of his neighbours:  as he hath
done, so shall it be done to him:
24:20. Breach for breach, eye for ere, tooth for tooth, shall he
restore.  What blemish he gave, the like shall he be compelled to
24:21. He that striketh a beast, shall render another.  He that striketh
a man shall be punished.
24:22. Let there be equal judgment among you, whether he be a stranger,
or a native that offends:  because I am the Lord your God.
24:23. And Moses spoke to the children of Israel.  And they brought
forth him that had blasphemed, without the camp:  and they stoned him.
And the children of Israel did as the Lord had commanded Moses.
Leviticus Chapter 25
The law of the seventh and of the fiftieth year of jubilee.
25:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses in mount Sinai, saying:
25:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  When
you shall have entered into the land which I will give you, observe the
rest of the sabbath of the Lord.
25:3. Six years thou shalt sow thy field and six years thou shalt prune
thy vineyard, and shalt gather the fruits thereof.
25:4. But in the seventh year there shall be a sabbath to the land, of
the resting of the Lord.  Thou shalt not sow thy field, nor prune thy
25:5. What the ground shall bring forth of itself, thou shalt not reap:
neither shalt thou gather the grapes or the firstfruits as a vintage.
For it is a year of rest to the land.
25:6. But they shall be unto you for meat, to thee and to thy
manservant, to thy maidservant and thy hireling, and to the strangers
that sojourn with thee.
25:7. All things that grow shall be meat to thy beasts and to thy
25:8. Thou shalt also number to thee seven weeks of years:  that is to
say, seven times seven, which together make forty-nine years.
25:9. And thou shalt sound the trumpet in the seventh month, the tenth
day of the month, in the time of the expiation in all your land.
25:10. And thou shalt sanctify the fiftieth year, and shalt proclaim
remission to all the inhabitants of thy land:  for it is the year of
jubilee.  Every man shall return to his possession, and every one shall
go back to his former family:
Remission. . .That is, a general release and discharge from debts and
bondage, and a reinstating of every man in his former possessions.
25:11. Because it is the jubilee and the fiftieth year.  You shall not
sow, nor reap the things that grow in the field of their own accord,
neither shall you gather the firstfruits of the vines,
25:12. Because of the sanctification of the jubilee.  But as they grow
you shall presently eat them.
25:13. In the year of the jubilee all shall return to their
possessions.
25:14. When thou shalt sell any thing to thy neighbour, or shalt buy of
him:  grieve not thy brother.  But thou shalt buy of him according to the
number of years from the jubilee.
25:15. And he shall sell to thee according to the computation of the
25:16. The more years remain after the jubilee, the more shall the
price increase:  and the less time is counted, so much the less shall
the purchase cost.  For he shall sell to thee the time of the fruits.
25:17. Do not afflict your countrymen:  but let every one fear his God.
Because I am the Lord your God.
25:18. Do my precepts, and keep my judgments, and fulfil them:  that you
may dwell in the land without any fear.
25:19. And the ground may yield you its fruits, of which you may eat
your fill, fearing no man's invasion.
25:20. But if you say:  What shall we eat the seventh year, if we sow
not, nor gather our fruits?
25:21. I will give you my blessing the sixth year:  and it shall yield
the fruits of three years.
25:22. And the eighth year you shall sow, and shall eat of the old
fruits, until the ninth year:  till new grow up, you shall eat the old
25:23. The land also shall not be sold for ever:  because it is mine,
and you are strangers and sojourners with me.
25:24. For which cause all the country of your possession shall be
under the condition of redemption.
25:25. If thy brother being impoverished sell his little possession,
and his kinsman will:  he may redeem what he had sold.
25:26. But if he have no kinsman, and he himself can find the price to
25:27. The value of the fruits shall be counted from that time when he
sold it.  And the overplus he shall restore to the buyer, and so shall
receive his possession again.
25:28. But if his hands find not the means to repay the price, the
buyer shall have what he bought, until the year of the jubilee.  For in
that year all that is sold shall return to the owner, and to the
ancient possessor.
25:29. He that selleth a house within the walls of a city, shall have
the liberty to redeem it, until one year be expired.
25:30. If he redeem it not, and the whole year be fully out, the buyer
shall possess it, and his posterity for ever, and it cannot be
redeemed, not even in the jubilee.
25:31. But if the house be in a village, that hath no walls, it shall
be sold according to the same law as the fields.  If it be not redeemed
before, in the jubilee it shall return to the owner.
25:32. The houses of Levites, which are in cities, may always be
25:33. If they be not redeemed, in the jubilee they shall all return to
the owners:  because the houses of the cities of the Levites are for
their possessions among the children of Israel.
25:34. But let not their suburbs be sold, because it is a perpetual
25:35. If thy brother be impoverished, and weak of hand, and thou
receive him as a stranger and sojourner, and he live with thee:
25:36. Take not usury of him nor more than thou gavest.  Fear thy God,
that thy brother may live with thee.
25:37. Thou shalt not give him thy money upon usury:  nor exact of him
any increase of fruits.
25:38. I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of
Egypt, that I might give you the land of Chanaan, and might be your
25:39. If thy brother constrained by poverty, sell himself to thee:
thou shalt not oppress him with the service of bondservants.
25:40. But he shall be as a hireling, and a sojourner:  he shall work
with thee until the year of the jubilee.
25:41. And afterwards he shall go out with his children:  and shall
return to his kindred and to the possession of his fathers.
25:42. For they are my servants, and I brought them out of the land of
Egypt:  let them not be sold as bondmen.
25:43. Afflict him not by might:  but fear thy God.
25:44. Let your bondmen, and your bondwomen, be of the nations that are
round about you:
25:45. And of the strangers that sojourn among you, or that were born
of them in your land.  These you shall have for servants:
25:46. And by right of inheritance shall leave them to your posterity,
and shall possess them for ever.  But oppress not your brethren the
children of Israel by might.
25:47. If the hand of a stranger or a sojourner grow strong among you,
and thy brother being impoverished sell himself to him, or to any of
25:48. After the sale he may be redeemed.  He that will of his brethren
shall redeem him:
25:49. Either his uncle, or his uncle's son, or his kinsman, by blood,
or by affinity.  But if he himself be able also, he shall redeem
25:50. Counting only the years from the time of his selling unto the
year of the jubilee:  and counting the money that he was sold for,
according to the number of the years and the reckoning of a hired
25:51. If there be many years that remain until the jubilee, according
to them shall he also repay the price.
25:52. If few, he shall make the reckoning with him according to the
number of the years:  and shall repay to the buyer of what remaineth of
25:53. His wages being allowed for which he served before:  he shall not
afflict him violently in thy sight.
25:54. And if by these means he cannot be redeemed, in the year of the
jubilee he shall go out with his children.
25:55. For the children of Israel are my servants, whom I brought forth
out of the land of Egypt.
Leviticus Chapter 26
God's promises to them that keep his commandments.  And the many
punishments with which he threatens transgressors.
26:1. I am the Lord your God.  You shall not make to yourselves any idol
or graven thing:  neither shall you erect pillars, nor set up a
remarkable stone in your land, to adore it.  For I am the Lord your God.
26:2. Keep my sabbaths, and reverence my sanctuary.  I am the Lord.
26:3. If you walk in my precepts, and keep my commandments, and do
them, I will give you rain in due seasons.
26:4. And the ground shall bring forth its increase:  and the trees
shall be filled with fruit.
26:5. The threshing of your harvest shall reach unto the vintage, and
the vintage shall reach unto the sowing time:  and you shall eat your
bread to the full, and dwell in your land without fear.
26:6. I will give peace in your coasts:  you shall sleep, and there
shall be none to make you afraid.  I will take away evil beasts:  and the
sword shall not pass through your quarters.
26:7. You shall pursue your enemies:  and they shall fall before you.
26:8. Five of yours shall pursue a hundred others:  and a hundred of you
ten thousand.  Your enemies shall fall before you by the sword.
26:9. I will look on you, and make you increase:  you shall be
multiplied, and I will establish my covenant with you.
26:10. You shall eat the oldest of the old store:  and, new coming on,
you shall cast away the old.
26:11. I will set my tabernacle in the midst of you:  and my soul shall
not cast you off.
26:12. I will walk among you, and will be your God:  and you shall be my
26:13. I am the Lord your God:  who have brought you out of the land of
the Egyptians, that you should not serve them:  and who have broken the
chains of your necks, that you might go upright.
26:14. But if you will not hear me, nor do all my commandments:
26:15. If you despise my laws, and contemn my judgments so as not to do
those things which are appointed by me, and to make void my covenant:
26:16. I also will do these things to you.  I will quickly visit you
with poverty, and burning heat, which shall waste your eyes, and
consume your lives.  You shall sow your seed in vain, which shall be
devoured by your enemies.
26:17. I will set my face against you, and you shall fall down before
your enemies:  and shall be made subject to them that hate you.  You
shall flee when no man pursueth you.
26:18. But if you will not yet for all this obey me:  I will chastise
you seven times more for your sins.
26:19. And I will break the pride of your stubbornness:  and I will make
to you the heaven above as iron, and the earth as brass.
26:20. Your labour shall be spent in vain:  the ground shall not bring
forth her increase:  nor the trees yield their fruit.
26:21. If you walk contrary to me, and will not hearken to me, I will
bring seven times more plagues upon you for your sins.
26:22. And I will send in upon you the beasts of the field, to destroy
you and your cattle, and make you few in number:  and that your highways
may be desolate.
26:23. And if even so you will not amend, but will walk contrary to me:
26:24. I also will walk contrary to you, and will strike you seven
times for your sins.
26:25. And I will bring in upon you the sword that shall avenge my
covenant.  And when you shall flee into the cities, I will send the
pestilence in the midst of you.  And you shall be delivered into the
hands of your enemies,
26:26. After I shall have broken the staff of your bread:  so that ten
women shall bake your bread in one oven, and give it out by weight:  and
you shall eat, and shall not be filled,
26:27. But if you will not for all this hearken to me, but will walk
26:28. I will also go against you with opposite fury:  and I will
chastise you with seven plagues for your sins,
26:29. So that you shall eat the flesh of your sons and of your
26:30. I will destroy your high places, and break your idols.  You shall
fall among the ruins of your idols, and my soul shall abhor you.
26:31. Insomuch that I will bring your cities to be a wilderness:  and I
will make your sanctuaries desolate:  and will receive no more your
sweet odours.
26:32. And I will destroy your land:  and your enemies shall be
astonished at it, when they shall be the inhabitants thereof.
26:33. And I will scatter you among the Gentiles:  and I will draw out
the sword after you.  And your land shall be desert, and your cities
26:34. Then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths all the days of her
desolation.  When you shall be
26:35. In the enemy's land, she shall keep a sabbath, and rest in the
sabbaths of her desolation:  because she did not rest in your sabbaths,
when you dwelt therein.
26:36. And as to them that shall remain of you I will send fear in
their hearts in the countries of their enemies.  The sound of a flying
leaf shall terrify them:  and they shall flee as it were from the sword.
They shall fall, when no man pursueth them.
26:37. And they shall every one fall upon their brethren as fleeing
from wars:  none of you shall dare to resist your enemies.
26:38. You shall perish among the Gentiles:  and an enemy's land shall
consume you.
26:39. And if of them also some remain, they shall pine away in their
iniquities, in the land of their enemies:  and they shall be afflicted
for the sins of their fathers, and their own.
26:40. Until they confess their iniquities, and the iniquities of their
ancestors, whereby they have transgressed against me, and walked
contrary unto me.
26:41. Therefore I also will walk against them, and bring them into
their enemies' land until their uncircumcised mind be ashamed.  Then
shall they pray for their sins.
26:42. And I will remember my covenant, that I made with Jacob, and
Isaac, and Abraham.  I will remember also the land:
26:43. Which when she shall be left by them, shall enjoy her sabbaths,
being desolate for them.  But they shall pray for their sins, because
they rejected my judgments, and despised my laws.
26:44. And yet for all that when they were in the land of their
enemies, I did not cast them off altogether.  Neither did I so despise
them that they should be quite consumed:  and I should make void my
covenant with them.  For I am the Lord their God.
26:45. And I will remember my former covenant, when I brought them out
of the land of Egypt, in the sight of the Gentiles, to be their God.  I
am the Lord.  These are the judgments, and precepts, and laws, which the
Lord gave between him and the children of Israel, in mount Sinai, by
the hand of Moses.
Leviticus Chapter 27
Of vows and tithes.
27:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
27:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  The
man that shall have made a vow, and promised his soul to God, shall
give the price according to estimation.
27:3. If it be a man from twenty years old unto sixty years old, he
shall give fifty sicles of silver, after the weight of the sanctuary:
27:4. If a woman, thirty.
27:5. But from the fifth year until the twentieth, a man shall give
twenty sicles:  a woman ten.
27:6. From one month until the fifth year, for a male shall be given
five sicles:  for a female three.
27:7. A man that is sixty years old or upward, shall give fifteen
sicles:  a woman ten.
27:8. If he be poor, and not able to pay the estimation, he shall stand
before the priest:  and as much as he shall value him at, and see him
able to pay, so much shall he give.
27:9. But a beast that may be sacrificed to the Lord, if any one shall
vow, shall be holy,
27:10. And cannot be changed:  that is to say, neither a better for a
worse, nor a worse for a better.  And if he shall change it:  both that
which was changed, and that for which it was changed, shall be
consecrated to the Lord.
27:11. An unclean beast, which cannot be sacrificed to the Lord, if any
man shall vow, shall be brought before the priest:
27:12. Who judging whether it be good or bad, shall set the price.
27:13. Which, if he that offereth it will give, he shall add above the
estimation the fifth part.
27:14. If a man shall vow his house, and sanctify it to the Lord, the
priest shall consider it, whether it be good or bad:  and it shall be
sold according to the price, which he shall appoint.
27:15. But if he that vowed, will redeem it, he shall give the fifth
part of the estimation over and above:  and shall have the house.
27:16. And if he vow the field of his possession, and consecrate it to
the Lord, the price shall be rated according to the measure of the
seed.  If the ground be sown with thirty bushels of barley, let it be
sold for fifty sicles of silver.
27:17. If he vow his field immediately from the year of jubilee that is
beginning:  as much as it may be worth, at so much it shall be rated.
27:18. But if some time after, the priest shall reckon the money
according to the number of years that remain until the jubilee, and the
price shall be abated.
27:19. And if he that had vowed, will redeem his field, he shall add
the fifth part of the money of the estimation, and shall possess it.
27:20. And if he will not redeem it, but it be sold to any other man,
he that vowed it, may not redeem it any more.
27:21. For when the day of jubilee cometh, it shall be sanctified to
the Lord, and as a possession consecrated, pertaineth to the right of
27:22. If a field that was bought, and not of a man's ancestors'
possession, be sanctified to the Lord:
27:23. The priest shall reckon the price according to the number of
years, unto the jubilee.  And he that had vowed, shall give that to the
27:24. But in the jubilee, it shall return to the former owner, who had
sold it, and had it in the lot of his possession.
27:25. All estimation shall be made according to the sicle of the
sanctuary.  A sicle hath twenty obols.
27:26. The firstborn, which belong to the Lord, no man may sanctify and
vow:  whether it be bullock, or sheep, they are the Lord's.
27:27. And if it be an unclean beast, he that offereth it shall redeem
it, according to thy estimation, and shall add the fifth part of the
price.  If he will not redeem it, it shall be sold to another for how
much soever it was estimated by thee.
27:28. Any thing that is devoted to the Lord, whether it be man, or
beast, or field, shall not be sold:  neither may it be redeemed.
Whatsoever is once consecrated shall be holy of holies to the Lord.
27:29. And any consecration that is offered by man, shall not be
redeemed, but dying shall die.
27:30. All tithes of the land, whether of corn, or of the fruits of
trees, are the Lord's, and are sanctified to him.
27:31. And if any man will redeem his tithes, he shall add the fifth
part of them.
27:32. Of all the tithes of oxen, and sheep, and goats, that pass under
the shepherd's rod, every tenth that cometh shall be sanctified to the
27:33. It shall not be chosen neither good nor bad, neither shall it be
changed for another.  If any man change it:  both that which was changed,
and that for which it was changed, shall be sanctified to the Lord, and
shall not be redeemed.
27:34. These are the precepts which the Lord commanded Moses for the
children of Israel in mount Sinai.
THE BOOK OF NUMBERS
This fourth Book of Moses is called NUMBERS, because it begins with the
numbering of the people.  The Hebrews, from its first words, call it
VAIEDABBER.  It contains the transactions of the Israelites from the
second month of the second year after their going out of Egypt, until
the beginning of the eleventh month of the fortieth year; that is, a
history almost of thirty-nine years.
Numbers Chapter 1
The children of Israel are numbered:  the Levites are designed to serve
the tabernacle.
1:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses in the desert of Sinai in the
tabernacle of the covenant, the first day of the second month, the
second year of their going out of Egypt, saying:
1:2. Take the sum of all the congregation of the children of Israel by
their families, and houses, and the names of every one, as many as are
of the male sex,
1:3. From twenty years old and upwards, of all the men of Israel fit
for war, and you shall number them by their troops, thou and Aaron.
1:4. And there shall be with you the princes of the tribes, and of the
houses in their kindreds,
1:5. Whose names are these:  Of Ruben, Elisur the son of Sedeur.
1:6. Of Simeon, Salamiel the son of Surisaddai.
1:7. Of Juda, Nahasson the son of Aminadab.
1:8. Of Issachar, Nathanael the son of Suar.
1:9. Of Zabulon, Eliab the son of Helon.
1:10. And of the sons of Joseph:  of Ephraim, Elisama the son of Ammiud:
of Manasses, Gamaliel the son of Phadassur.
1:11. Of Benjamin, Abidan the son of Gedeon.
1:12. Of Dan, Ahiezer the son of Ammisaddai.
1:13. Of Aser, Phegiel the son of Ochran.
1:14. Of Gad, Eliasaph the son of Duel.
1:15. Of Nephtali, Ahira the son of Enan.
1:16. These are the most noble princes of the multitude by their tribes
and kindreds, and the chiefs of the army of Israel:
1:17. Whom Moses and Aaron took with all the multitude of the common
1:18. And assembled them on the first day of the second month,
reckoning them up by the kindreds, and houses, and families, and heads,
and names of every one from twenty years old and upward,
1:19. As the Lord had commanded Moses.  And they were numbered in the
desert of Sinai.
1:20. Of Ruben the eldest son of Israel, by their generations and
families and houses and names of every head, all that were of the male
sex, from twenty years old and upward, that were able to go forth to
1:21. Were forty-six thousand five hundred.
1:22. Of the sons of Simeon by their generations and families, and
houses of their kindreds, were reckoned up by the names and heads of
every one, all that were of the male sex, from twenty years old and
upward, that were able to go forth to war,
1:23. Fifty-nine thousand three hundred.
1:24. Of the sons of Gad, by their generations and families and houses
of their kindreds were reckoned up by the names of every one from
twenty years old and upward, all that were able to go forth to war,
1:25. Forty-five thousand six hundred and fifty.
1:26. Of the sons of Juda, by their generations and families and houses
of their kindreds, by the names of every one from twenty years old and
upward, all that were able to go forth to war,
1:27. Were reckoned up seventy-four thousand six hundred.
1:28. Of the sons of Issachar, by their generations and families and
houses of their kindreds, by the names of every one from twenty years
old and upward, all that could go forth to war,
1:29. Were reckoned up fifty-four thousand four hundred.
1:30. Of the sons of Zabulon, by the generations and families and
houses of their kindreds, were reckoned up by the names of every one
from twenty years old and upward, all that were able to go forth to
1:31. Fifty-seven thousand four hundred.
1:32. Of the sons of Joseph, namely, of the sons of Ephraim, by the
generations and families and houses of their kindreds, were reckoned up
by the names of every one, from twenty years old and upward, all that
were able to go forth to war,
1:33. Forty thousand five hundred.
1:34. Moreover of the sons of Manasses, by the generations and families
and houses of their kindreds, were reckoned up by the names of every
one from twenty years old and upward, all that could go forth to war,
1:35. Thirty-two thousand two hundred.
1:36. Of the sons of Benjamin, by their generations and families and
houses of their kindreds, were reckoned up by the names of every one
from twenty years old and upward, all that were able to go forth to
1:37. Thirty-five thousand four hundred.
1:38. Of the sons of Dan, by their generations and families and houses
of their kindreds, were reckoned up by the names of every one from
twenty years old and upward, all that were able to go forth to war,
1:39. Sixty-two thousand seven hundred.
1:40. Of the sons of Aser, by their generations and families and houses
of their kindreds, were reckoned up by the names of every one from
twenty years old and upward, all that were able to go forth to war,
1:41. Forty-one thousand and five hundred.
1:42. Of the sons of Nephtali, by their generations and families and
houses of their kindreds, were reckoned up by the names of every one
from twenty years old and upward, were able to go forth to war,
1:43. Fifty-three thousand four hundred.
1:44. These are they who were numbered by Moses and Aaron, and the
twelve princes of Israel, every one by the houses of their kindreds.
1:45. And the whole number of the children of Israel by their houses
and families, from twenty years old and upward, that were able to go to
1:46. Were six hundred and three thousand five hundred and fifty men.
1:47. But the Levites in the tribes of their families were not numbered
1:48. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
1:49. Number not the tribe of Levi, neither shalt thou put down the sum
of them with the children of Israel:
1:50. But appoint them over the tabernacle of the testimony, and all
the vessels thereof, and whatsoever pertaineth to the ceremonies.  They
shall carry the tabernacle and all the furniture thereof:  and they
shall minister, and shall encamp round about the tabernacle.
1:51. When you are to go forward, the Levites shall take down the
tabernacle:  when you are to camp, they shall set it up.  What stranger
soever cometh to it, shall be slain.
1:52. And the children of Israel shall camp every man by his troops and
bands and army.
1:53. But the Levites shall pitch their tents round about the
tabernacle, lest there come indignation upon the multitude of the
children of Israel, and they shall keep watch, and guard the tabernacle
of the testimony.
1:54. And the children of Israel did according to all things which the
Lord had commanded Moses.
Numbers Chapter 2
The order of the tribes in their camp.
2:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
2:2. All the children of Israel shall camp by their troops, ensigns,
and standards, and the houses of their kindreds, round about the
tabernacle of the covenant.
2:3. On the east Juda shall pitch his tents by the bands of his army:
and the prince of his sons; shall be Nahasson the son of Aminadab.
2:4. And the whole sum of the fighting men of his stock, were
seventy-four thousand six hundred.
2:5. Next unto him they of the tribe of Issachar encamped, whose prince
was Nathanael, the son of Suar.
2:6. And the whole number of his fighting men were fifty-four thousand
four hundred.
2:7. In the tribe of Zabulon the prince was Eliab the son of Helon.
2:8. And all the army of fighting men of his stock, were fifty-seven
thousand four hundred.
2:9. All that were numbered in the camp of Juda, were a hundred and
eighty-six thousand four hundred:  and they by their troops shall march
2:10. In the camp of the sons of Ruben, on the south side, the prince
shall be Elisur the son of Sedeur:
2:11. And the whole army of his fighting men, that were numbered, were
forty-six thousand five hundred.
2:12. Beside him camped they of the tribe of Simeon:  whose prince was
Salamiel the son of Surisaddai.
2:13. And the whole army of his fighting men, that were numbered, were
fifty-nine thousand three hundred.
2:14. In the tribe of Gad the prince was Eliasaph the son of Duel.
2:15. And the whole army of his righting men that were numbered, were
forty-five thousand six hundred and fifty.
2:16. All that were reckoned up in the camp of Ruben, were a hundred
and fifty-one thousand four hundred and fifty, by their troops:  they
shall march in the second place.
2:17. And the tabernacle of the testimony shall be carried by the
officers of the Levites and their troops.  As it shall be set up, so
shall it be taken down.  Every one shall march according to their
places, and ranks.
2:18. On the west side shall be the camp of the sons of Ephraim, whose
prince was Elisama the son of Ammiud.
2:19. The whole army of his fighting men, that were numbered, were
forty thousand five hundred.
2:20. And with them the tribe of the sons of Manasses, whose prince was
Gamaliel the son of Phadassur.
2:21. And the whole army of his fighting men, that were numbered, were
thirty-two thousand two hundred.
2:22. In the tribe of the sons of Benjamin the prince was Abidan the
son of Gedeon.
2:23. And the whole army of fighting men, that were reckoned up, were
thirty-five thousand four hundred.
2:24. All that were numbered in the camp of Ephraim, were a hundred and
eight-thousand one hundred by their troops:  they shall march in the
third place.
2:25. On the north side camped the sons of Dan:  whose prince was
Ahiezar the son of Ammisaddai.
2:26. The whole army of his fighting men, that were numbered, were
sixty-two thousand seven hundred.
2:27. Beside him they of the tribe of Aser pitched their tents:  whose
prince was Phegiel the son of Ochran.
2:28. The whole army of his fighting men, that were numbered, were
forty-one thousand five hundred.
2:29. Of the tribe of the sons of Nephtali the prince was Ahira the son
2:30. The whole army of his fighting men, were fifty-three thousand
four hundred.
2:31. All that were numbered in the camp of Dan, were a hundred and
fifty-seven thousand six hundred:  and they shall march last.
2:32. This is the number of the children of Israel, of their army
divided according to the houses of their kindreds and their troops, six
hundred and three thousand five hundred and fifty.
2:33. And the Levites were not numbered among the children of Israel:
for so the Lord had commanded Moses.
2:34. And the children of Israel did according to all things that the
Lord had commanded.  They camped by their troops, and marched by the
families and houses of their fathers.
Numbers Chapter 3
The Levites are numbered and their offices distinguished.  They are
taken in the place of the firstborn of the children of Israel.
3:1. These are the generations of Aaron and Moses in the day that the
Lord spoke to Moses in mount Sinai.
3:2. And these the names of the sons of Aaron:  his firstborn Nadab,
then Abiu, and Eleazar, and Ithamar.
3:3. These the names of the sons of Aaron the priests that were
anointed, and whose hands were filled and consecrated, to do the
functions of priesthood.
3:4. Now Nadab and Abiu died, without children, when they offered
strange fire before the Lord, in the desert of Sinai:  and Eleazar and
Ithamar performed the priestly office in the presence of Aaron their
3:5. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
3:6. Bring the tribe of Levi, and make them stand in the sight of Aaron
the priest to minister to him, and let them watch,
3:7. And observe whatsoever appertaineth to the service of the
multitude before the tabernacle of the testimony,
3:8. And let them keep the vessels of the tabernacle, serving in the
ministry thereof.
3:9. And thou shalt give the Levites for a gift,
3:10. To Aaron and to his sons, to whom they are delivered by the
children of Israel.  But thou shalt appoint Aaron and his sons over the
service of priesthood.  The stranger that approacheth to minister, shall
be put to death.
3:11. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
3:12. I have taken the Levites from the children of Israel, for every
firstborn that openeth the womb among the children of Israel, and the
Levites shall be mine.
3:13. For every firstborn is mine:  since I struck the firstborn in the
land of Egypt:  I have sanctified to myself whatsoever is firstborn in
Israel both of man and beast, they are mine:  I am the Lord.
3:14. And the Lord spoke to Moses in the desert of Sinai, saying:
3:15. Number the sons of Levi by the houses of their fathers and their
families, every male from one month and upward.
3:16. Moses numbered them as the Lord had commanded.
3:17. And there were found sons of Levi by their names, Gerson and
Caath Merari.
3:18. The sons of Gerson:  Lebni and Semei.
3:19. The sons of Caath:  Amram, and Jesaar, Hebron and Oziel:
3:20. The sons of Merari, Moholi and Musi.
3:21. Of Gerson were two families, the Lebnites, and the Semeites:
3:22. Of which were numbered, people of the male sex from one month and
upward, seven thousand five hundred.
3:23. These shall pitch behind the tabernacle on the west,
3:24. Under their prince Eliasaph the son of Lael.
3:25. And their charge shall be in the tabernacle of the covenant:
3:26. The tabernacle itself and the cover thereof, the hanging that is
drawn before the doors of the tabernacle of the covenant, and the
curtains of the court:  the hanging also that is hanged in the entry of
the court of the tabernacle, and whatsoever belongeth to the rite of
the altar, the cords of the tabernacle, and all the furniture thereof.
3:27. Of the kindred of Caath come the families of the Amramites and
Jesaarites and Hebronites and Ozielites.  These are the families of the
Caathites reckoned up by their names:
3:28. All of the male sex from one month and upward, eight thousand six
hundred:  they shall have the guard of the sanctuary,
3:29. And shall camp on the south side.
3:30. And their prince shall be Elisaphan the son of Oziel:
3:31. And they shall keep the ark, and the table and the candlestick,
the altars, and the vessels of the sanctuary, wherewith they minister,
and the veil, and all the furniture of this kind.
3:32. And the prince of the princes of the Levites, Eleazar, the son of
Aaron the priest, shall be over them that watch for the guard of the
3:33. And of Merari are the families of the Moholites, and Musites,
reckoned up by their names:
3:34. All of the male kind from one month and upward, six thousand two
3:35. Their prince Suriel the son of Abihaiel:  their shall camp on the
3:36. Under their custody shall be the boards of the tabernacle, and
the bars, and the pillars and their sockets, and all things that
pertain to this kind of service:
3:37. And the pillars of the court round about with their sockets, and
the pins with their cords.
3:38. Before the tabernacle of the covenant, that is to say on the east
side shall Moses and Aaron camp, with their sons, having the custody of
the sanctuary, in the midst of the children of Israel.  What stranger
soever cometh unto it, shall be put to death.
3:39. All the Levites, that I Moses and Aaron numbered according to the
precept of the Lord, by their f families, of the male kind from one
month and upward, were twenty-two thousand.
3:40. And the Lord said to Moses:  Number the firstborn of the male sex
of the children of Israel, from one month and upward, and thou shalt
take the sum of them.
3:41. And thou shalt take the Levites to me for all the firstborn of
the children of Israel, I am the Lord:  and their cattle for all the
firstborn of the cattle of the children of Israel:
3:42. Moses reckoned up, as the Lord had commanded, the firstborn of
the children of Israel:
3:43. And the males by their names, from one month and upward, were
twenty-two thousand two hundred and seventy-three.
3:44. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
3:45. Take the Levites for the firstborn of the children of Israel, and
the cattle of the Levites for their cattle, and the Levites shall be
mine.  I am the Lord.
3:46. But for the price of the two hundred and seventy-three, of the
firstborn of the children of Israel, that exceed the number of the
3:47. Thou shalt take five sicles for every bead, according to the
weight of the sanctuary.  A sicle hath twenty obols.
3:48. And thou shalt give the money to Aaron and his sons, the price of
them that are above.
3:49. Moses therefore took the money of them that were above, and whom
they had redeemed from the Levites,
3:50. For the firstborn of the children of Israel, one thousand three
hundred and sixty-five sicles, according to the weight of the
3:51. And gave it to Aaron and his sons according to the word that the
Lord had commanded him.
Numbers Chapter 4
The age and time of the Levites' service:  their offices and burdens.
4:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, and Aaron, saying:
4:2. Take the sum of the sons of Caath from the midst of the Levites,
by their houses and families.
4:3. From thirty years old and upward, to fifty years old, of all that
go in to stand and to minister in the tabernacle of the covenant.
4:4. This is the service of the sons of Caath:
4:5. When the camp is; to set forward, Aaron and his sons shall go into
the tabernacle of the covenant, and the holy of holies, and shall take
down the veil that hangeth before the door, and shall wrap up the ark
of the testimony in it,
4:6. And shall cover it again with a cover of violet skins, and shall
spread over it a cloth all of violet, and shall put in the bars.
4:7. They shall wrap up also the table of proposition in a cloth of
violet, and shall put with it the censers and little mortars, the cups
and bowls to pour out the libations:  the loaves shall be always on it:
4:8. And they shall spread over it a cloth of scarlet, which again they
shall cover with a covering of violet skins, and shall put in the bars.
4:9. They shall take also a cloth of violet wherewith they shall cover
the candlestick with the lamps and tongs thereof and the snuffers and
all the oil vessels, which are necessary for the dressing of the lamps:
4:10. And over all they shall put a cover of violet skins and put in
4:11. And they shall wrap up the golden altar also in a cloth of
violet, and shall spread over it a cover of violet skins, and put in
4:12. All the vessels wherewith they minister in the sanctuary, they
shall wrap up in a cloth of violet, and shall spread over it a cover of
violet skins, and put in the bars.
4:13. They shall cleanse the altar also from the ashes, and shall wrap
it up in a purple cloth,
4:14. And shall put it with all the vessels that they use in the
ministry thereof, that is to say, firepans, fleshhooks and forks,
pothooks and shovels.  They shall cover all the vessels of the altar
together with a covering of violet skins, and shall put in the bars.
4:15. And when Aaron and his sons have wrapped up the sanctuary and the
vessels thereof at the removing of the camp, then shall the sons of
Caath enter in to carry the things wrapped up:  and they shall not touch
the vessels of the sanctuary, lest they die.  These are the burdens of
the sons of Caath:  in the tabernacle of the covenant:
4:16. And over them shall be Eleazar the son of Aaron the priest, to
whose charge pertaineth the oil to dress the lamps, and the sweet
incense, and the sacrifice, that is always offered, and the oil of
unction, and whatsoever pertaineth to the service of the tabernacle,
and of all the vessels that are in the sanctuary.
4:17. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
4:18. Destroy not the people of Caath from the midst of the Levites:
4:19. But do this to them, that they may live, and not die, by touching
the holies of holies.  Aaron and his sons shall go in, and they shall
appoint every man his work, and shall divide the burdens that every man
is to carry.
4:20. Let not others by any curiosity see the things that are in the
sanctuary before they be wrapped up, otherwise they shall die.
4:21. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
4:22. Take the sum of the sons of Gerson also by their houses and
families and kindreds.
4:23. From thirty years old and upward, unto fifty years old.  Number
them all that go in and minister in the tabernacle of the covenant.
4:24. This is the office of the family of the Gersonites:
4:25. To carry the curtains of the tabernacle and the roof of the
covenant, the other covering, and the violet covering over all, and the
hanging that hangeth in the entry of the tabernacle of the covenant,
4:26. The curtains of the court, and the veil in the entry that is
before tabernacle.  All things that pertain to the altar, the cords and
the vessels of the ministry,
4:27. The sons of Gerson shall carry, by the commandment of Aaron and
his sons:  and each man shall know to what burden he must be assigned.
4:28. This is the service of the family of the Gersonites in the
tabernacle of the covenant, and they shall be under the hand of Ithamar
the son of Aaron the priest.
4:29. Thou shalt reckon up the sons of Merari also by the families and
houses of their fathers,
4:30. From thirty years old and upward, unto fifty years old, all that
go in to the office of their ministry, and to the service of the
covenant of the testimony.
4:31. These are their burdens:  They shall carry the boards of the
tabernacle and the bars thereof, the pillars and their sockets,
4:32. The pillars also of the court round about, with their sockets and
pins and cords.  They shall receive by account all the vessels and
furniture, and so shall carry them.
4:33. This is the office of the family of the Merarites, and their
ministry in the tabernacle of the covenant:  and they shall be under the
hand of Ithamar the son of Aaron the priest.
4:34. So Moses and Aaron and the princes of the synagogue reckoned up
the sons of Caath, by their kindreds and the houses of their fathers,
4:35. From thirty years old and upward, unto fifty years old, all that
go in to the ministry of the tabernacle of the covenant:
4:36. And they were found two thousand seven hundred and fifty.
4:37. This is the number of the people of Caath that go in to the
tabernacle of the covenant:  these did Moses and Aaron number according
to the word of the Lord by the hand of Moses.
4:38. The sons of Gerson also were numbered by the kindreds and houses
of their fathers,
4:39. From thirty years old and upward, unto fifty years old, all that
go in to minister in the tabernacle of the covenant:
4:40. And they were found two thousand six hundred and thirty.
4:41. This is the people of the Gersonites, whom Moses and Aaron
numbered according to the word of the Lord.
4:42. The sons of Merari also were numbered by the kindreds and houses
of their fathers,
4:43. From thirty years old and upward, unto fifty years old, all that
go in to fulfil the rites of the tabernacle of the covenant:
4:44. And they were found three thousand two hundred.
4:45. This is the number of the sons of Merari, whom Moses and Aaron
reckoned up according to the commandment of the Lord by the hand of
4:46. All that were reckoned up of the Levites, and whom Moses and
Aaron and the princes of Israel took by name, by the kindreds and
houses of their fathers,
4:47. From thirty years old and upward, until fifty years old, that go
into the ministry of the tabernacle, and to carry the burdens,
4:48. Were in all eight thousand five hundred and eighty.
4:49. Moses reckoned them up according to the word of the Lord, every
one according to their office and burdens, as the Lord had commanded
Numbers Chapter 5
The unclean are removed out of the camp:  confession of sins, and
satisfaction:  firstfruits and oblations belonging to the priests:  trial
of jealousy.
5:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
5:2. Command the children of Israel, that they cast out of the camp
every leper, and whosoever hath an issue of seed, or is defiled by the
5:3. Whether it be man or woman, cast ye them out of the camp, lest
they defile it when I shall dwell with you,
5:4. And the children of Israel did so, and they cast them forth
without the camp, as the Lord had spoken to Moses.
5:5. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
5:6. Say to the children of Israel:  When a man or woman shall have
committed any of all the sins that men are wont to commit, and by
negligence shall have transgressed the commandment of the Lord, and
5:7. They shall confess their sin, and restore the principal itself,
and the fifth part over and above, to him against whom they have
Shall confess. . .This confession and satisfaction, ordained in the Old
Law, was a figure of the sacrament of penance.
5:8. But if there be no one to receive it, they shall give it to the
Lord, and it shall be the priest's, besides the ram that is offered for
expiation, to be an atoning sacrifice.
5:9. All the firstfruits also, which the children of Israel offer,
belong to the priest:
5:10. And whatsoever is offered into the sanctuary by every one, and is
delivered into the hands of the priest, it shall be his.
5:11. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
5:12. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  The
man whose wife shall have gone astray, and contemning her husband,
5:13. Shall have slept with another man, and her husband cannot
discover it, but the adultery is secret, and cannot be proved by
witnesses, because she was not found in the adultery:
5:14. If the spirit of jealousy stir up the husband against his wife,
who either is defiled, or is charged with false suspicion,
The spirit of jealousy, etc. . .This ordinance was designed to clear the
innocent, and to prevent jealous husbands from doing mischief to their
wives:  as likewise to give all a horror of adultery, by punishing it in
so remarkable a manner.
5:15. He shall bring her to the priest, and shall offer an oblation for
her, the tenth part of a measure of barley meal:  he shall not pour oil
thereon, nor put frankincense upon it:  because it is a sacrifice of
jealousy, and an oblation searching out adultery.
5:16. The priest therefore shall offer it, and set it before the Lord.
5:17. And he shall take holy water in an earthen vessel, and he shall
cast a little earth of the pavement of the tabernacle into it.
5:18. And when the woman shall stand before the Lord, he shall uncover
her head, and shall put on her hands the sacrifice of remembrance, and
the oblation of jealousy:  and he himself shall hold the most bitter
waters, whereon he hath heaped curses with execration.
5:19. And he shall adjure her, and shall say:  If another man hath not
slept with thee, and if thou be not defiled by forsaking thy husband's
bed, these most bitter waters, on which I have heaped curses, shall not
5:20. But if thou hast gone aside from thy husband, and art defiled,
and hast lain with another man:
5:21. These curses shall light upon thee:  The Lord make thee a curse,
and an example for all among his people:  may he make thy thigh to rot,
and may thy belly swell and burst asunder.
5:22. Let the cursed waters enter into thy belly, and may thy womb
swell and thy thigh rot.  And the woman shall answer, Amen, amen.
5:23. And the priest shall write these curses in a book, and shall wash
them out with the most bitter waters, upon which he hath heaped the
5:24. And he shall give them her to drink.  And when she hath drunk them
5:25. The priest shall take from her hand the sacrifice of jealousy,
and shall elevate it before the Lord, and shall put it upon the altar:
yet so as first,
5:26. To take a handful of the sacrifice of that which is offered, and
burn it upon the altar:  and so give the most bitter waters to the woman
5:27. And when she hath drunk them, if she be defiled, and having
despised her husband be guilty of adultery, the malediction shall go
through her, and her belly swelling, her thigh shall rot:  and the woman
shall be a curse, and an example to all the people.
5:28. But if she be not defiled, she shall not be hurt, and shall bear
5:29. This is the law of jealousy.  If a woman hath gone aside from her
husband, and be defiled,
5:30. And the husband stirred up by the spirit of jealousy bring her
before the Lord, and the priest do to her according to all things that
are here written:
5:31. The husband shall be blameless, and she shall bear her iniquity.
Numbers Chapter 6
The law of the Nazarites:  the form of blessing the people.
6:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
6:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  When
a man, or woman, shall make a vow to be sanctified, and will consecrate
themselves to the Lord:
6:3. They shall abstain from wine, and from every thing that may make a
man drunk.  They shall not drink vinegar of wine, or of any other drink,
nor any thing that is pressed out of the grape:  nor shall they eat
grapes either fresh or dried.
6:4. All the days that they are consecrated to the Lord by vow:  they
shall eat nothing that cometh of the vineyard, from the raisin even to
6:5. All the time of his separation no razor shall pass over his head,
until the day be fulfilled of his consecration to the Lord.  He shall be
holy, and shall let the hair of his head grow.
6:6. All the time of his consecration he shall not go in to any dead,
6:7. Neither shall he make himself unclean, even for his father, or for
his mother, or for his brother, or for his sister, when they die,
because the consecration of his God is upon his head.
6:8. All the days of his separation he shall be holy to the Lord.
6:9. But if any man die suddenly before him:  the head of his
consecration shall be defiled:  and he shall shave it forthwith on the
same day of his purification, and again on the seventh day.
6:10. And on the eighth day he shall bring two turtles, or two young
pigeons to the priest in the entry of the covenant of the testimony.
6:11. And the priest shall offer one for sin, and the other for a
holocaust, and shall pray for him, for that he hath sinned by the dead:
and he shall sanctify his head that day:
6:12. And shall consecrate to the Lord the days of his separation,
offering a lamb of one year for sin:  yet so that the former days be
made void, because his sanctification was profaned.
6:13. This is the law of consecration.  When the days which he had
determined by vow shall be expired, he shall bring him to the door of
the tabernacle of the covenant,
6:14. And shall offer his oblation to the Lord:  one he lamb of a year
old without blemish for a holocaust, and one ewe lamb of a year old
without blemish for a sin offering, and one ram without blemish for a
victim of peace offering,
6:15. A basket also of unleavened bread, tempered with oil, and wafers
without leaven anointed with oil, and the libations of each:
6:16. And the priest shall present them before the Lord, and shall
offer both the sin offering and the holocaust.
6:17. But the ram he shall immolate for a sacrifice of peace offering
to the Lord, offering at the same time the basket of unleavened bread,
and the libations that are due by custom.
6:18. Then shall the hair of the consecration of the Nazarite, be
shaved off before the door of the tabernacle of the covenant:  and he
shall take his hair, and lay it upon the fire, which is under the
sacrifice of the peace offerings.
6:19. And shall take the boiled shoulder of the ram, and one unleavened
cake out of the basket, and one unleavened wafer, and he shall deliver
them into the hands of the Nazarite, after his head is shaven.
6:20. And receiving them again from him, he shall elevate them in the
sight of the Lord:  and they being sanctified shall belong to the
priest, as the breast, which was commanded to be separated, and the
shoulder.  After this the Nazarite may drink wine.
6:21. This is the law of the Nazarite, when he hath vowed his oblation
to the Lord in the time of his consecration, besides those things which
his hand shall find, according to that which he had vowed in his mind,
so shall he do for the fulfilling of his sanctification.
6:22. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
6:23. Say to Aaron and his sons:  Thus shall you bless the children of
Israel, and you shall say to them:
6:24. The Lord bless thee, and keep thee.
6:25. The Lord shew his face to thee, and have mercy on thee.
6:26. The Lord turn his countenance to thee, and give thee peace.
6:27. And they shall invoke my name upon the children of Israel, and I
will bless them.
Numbers Chapter 7
The offerings of the princes at the dedication of the tabernacle.  God
speaketh to Moses from the propitiatory.
7:1. And it came to pass in the day that Moses had finished the
tabernacle, and set it up, and had anointed and sanctified it with all
its vessels, the altar likewise and all the vessels thereof,
7:2. The princes of Israel and the heads of the families, in every
tribe, who were the rulers of them who had been numbered, offered
7:3. Their gifts before the Lord, six wagons covered, and twelve oxen.
Two princes offered one wagon, and each one an ox, and they offered
them before the tabernacle.
7:4. And the Lord said to Moses:
7:5. Receive them from them to serve in the ministry of the tabernacle,
and thou shalt deliver them to the Levites according to the order of
their ministry.
7:6. Moses therefore receiving the wagons and the oxen, delivered them
to the Levites.
7:7. Two wagons and four oxen he gave to the sons of Gerson, according
to their necessity.
7:8. The other four wagons, and eight oxen he gave to the sons of
Merari, according to their offices and service, under the hand of
Ithamar the son of Aaron the priest.
7:9. But to the sons of Caath he gave no wagons or oxen:  because they
serve in the sanctuary and carry their burdens upon their own
7:10. And the princes offered for the dedication of the altar on the
day when it was anointed, their oblation before the altar.
7:11. And the Lord said to Moses:  Let each of the princes one day after
another offer their gifts for the dedication of the altar.
7:12. The first day Nahasson the son of Aminadab of the tribe of Juda
offered his offering:
7:13. And his offering was a silver dish weighing one hundred and
thirty sicles, a silver bowl of seventy sicles according to the weight
of the sanctuary, both full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:14. A little mortar of ten sicles of gold full of incense:
7:15. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and lamb of a year old for a
7:16. And a buck goat for sin:
7:17. And for the sacrifice of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams,
five he goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of
Nahasson the son of Aminadab.
7:18. The second day Nathanael the son of Suar, prince of the tribe of
Issachar, made his offering,
7:19. A silver dish weighing one hundred and thirty sicles, a silver
bowl of seventy sicles, according to the weight of the sanctuary, both
full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:20. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:21. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:22. And a buck goat for sin:
7:23. And for the sacrifice of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams,
five buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of
Nathanael the son of Suar.
7:24. The third day the prince of the sons of Zabulon, Eliab the son of
7:25. Offered a silver dish weighing one hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles by the weight of the sanctuary, both full
of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:26. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:27. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:28. And a buck goat for sin:
7:29. And for the sacrifice of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams,
five buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This is the oblation of
Eliab the son of Helon.
7:30. The fourth day the prince of the sons of Ruben, Elisur the son of
7:31. Offered a silver dish weighing one hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles according to the weight of the sanctuary,
both full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:32. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:33. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old, for a
7:34. And a buck goat for sin:
7:35. And for victims of peace offerings two oxen, five rams, five buck
goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Elisur the
son of Sedeur.
7:36. The fifth day the prince of the sons of Simeon, Salamiel the son
of Surisaddai,
7:37. Offered a silver dish weighing one hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles after the weight of the sanctuary, both
full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:38. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:39. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:40. And a buck goat for sin:
7:41. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Salamiel
the son of Surisaddai.
7:42. The sixth day the prince of the sons of Gad, Eliasaph the son of
7:43. Offered a silver dish weighing a hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles by the weight of the sanctuary, both full
of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:44. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:45. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:46. And a buck goat for sin:
7:47. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Eliasaph
the son of Duel.
7:48. The seventh day the prince of the sons of Ephraim, Elisama the
son of Ammiud,
7:49. Offered a silver dish weighing a hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles according to the weight of the sanctuary,
both full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:50. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:51. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:52. And a buck goat for sin:
7:53. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Elisama
the son of Ammiud.
7:54. The eighth day the prince of the sons of Manasses, Gamaliel the
son of Phadassur,
7:55. Offered a silver dish, weighing a hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles, according to the weight of the
sanctuary, both full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:56. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:57. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:58. And a buck goat for sin:
7:59. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Gamaliel
the son of Phadassur.
7:60. The ninth day the prince of the sons of Benjamin, Abidan the son
7:61. Offered a silver dish weighing a hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles by the weight of the sanctuary, both full
of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:62. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:63. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:64. And a buck goat for sin:
7:65. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Abidan
the son of Gedeon.
7:66. The tenth day the princes of the sons of Dan, Ahiezer the son of
7:67. Offered a silver dish weighing a hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles, according to the weight of the
sanctuary, both full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:68. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:69. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:70. And a buck goat for sin:
7:71. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Ahiezer
the son of Ammisaddai.
7:72. The eleventh day the prince of the sons of Aser, Phegiel the son
7:73. Offered a silver dish weighing a hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles, according to the weight of the
sanctuary, both full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:74. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:75. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:76. And a buck goat for sin:
7:77. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Phegiel
the son of Ochran.
7:78. The twelfth day the prince of the sons of Nephtali, Ahira the son
7:79. Offered a silver dish weighing a hundred and thirty sicles, a
silver bowl of seventy sicles, according to the weight of the
sanctuary, both full of flour tempered with oil for a sacrifice:
7:80. A little mortar of gold weighing ten sicles full of incense:
7:81. An ox of the herd, and a ram, and a lamb of a year old for a
7:82. And a buck goat for sin:
7:83. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, two oxen, five rams, five
buck goats, five lambs of a year old.  This was the offering of Ahira
the son of Enan.
7:84. These were the offerings made by the princes of Israel in the
dedication of the altar, in the day wherein it was consecrated.  Twelve
dishes of silver:  twelve silver bowls:  twelve little mortars of gold:
7:85. Each dish weighing a hundred and thirty sicles of silver, and
each bowl seventy sicles:  that is, putting all the vessels of silver
together, two thousand four hundred sicles, by the weight of the
7:86. Twelve little mortars of gold full of incense, weighing ten
sicles apiece, by the weight of the sanctuary:  that is, in all a
hundred and twenty sicles of gold.
7:87. Twelve oxen out of the herd for a holocaust, twelve rams, twelve
lambs of a year old, and their libations:  twelve buck goats for sin.
7:88. And for sacrifices of peace offerings, oxen twenty-four, rams
sixty, buck goats sixty, lambs of a year old sixty.  These things were
offered in the dedication of the altar, when it was anointed.
7:89. And when Moses entered into the tabernacle of the covenant, to
consult the oracle, he heard the voice of one speaking to him from the
propitiatory, that is over the ark between the two cherubims, and from
this place he spoke to him.
Numbers Chapter 8
The seven lamps are placed on the golden candlestick, to shine towards
the loaves of proposition:  the ordination of the Levites:  and to what
age they shall serve in the tabernacle.
8:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
8:2. Speak to Aaron, and thou shalt say to him:  When thou shalt place
the seven lamps, let the candlestick be set up on the south side.  Give
orders therefore that the lamps look over against the north, towards
the table of the loaves of proposition, over against that part shall
they give light, towards which the candlestick looketh.
8:3. And Aaron did so, and he put the lamps upon the candlestick, as
the Lord had commanded Moses.
8:4. Now this was the work of the candlestick, it was of beaten gold,
both the shaft in the middle, and all that came out of both sides of
the branches:  according to the pattern which the Lord had shewn to
Moses, so he made the candlestick.
8:5. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
8:6. Take the Levites out of the midst of the children of Israel, and
thou shalt purify them,
8:7. According to this rite:  Let them be sprinkled with the water of
purification, and let them shave all the hairs of their flesh.  And when
they shall have washed their garments, and are cleansed,
Let them be sprinkled with the water of purification. . .This was the
holy water mixed with the ashes of the red cow, Num. 19., appointed for
purifying all that were unclean.  It was a figure of the blood of
Christ, applied to our souls by his holy sacraments.
8:8. They shall take an ox of the herd, and for the offering thereof
fine flour tempered with oil:  and thou shalt take another ox of the
herd for a sin offering:
8:9. And thou shalt bring the Levites before the tabernacle of the
covenant, calling together all the multitude of the children of Israel:
8:10. And when the Levites are before the Lord, the children of Israel
shall put their hands upon them:
8:11. And Aaron shall offer the Levites, as a gift in the sight of the
Lord from the children of Israel, that they may serve in his ministry.
8:12. The Levites also shall put their hands upon the heads of the
oxen, of which thou shalt sacrifice one for sin, and the other for a
holocaust to the Lord, to pray for them.
8:13. And thou shalt set the Levites in the sight of Aaron and of his,
and shalt consecrate them being offered to the Lord,
8:14. And shalt separate them from the midst of the children of Israel,
8:15. And afterwards they shall enter into the tabernacle of the
covenant, to serve me.  And thus shalt thou purify and consecrate them
for an oblation of the Lord:  for as a gift they were given me by the
children of Israel.
8:16. I have taken them instead of the firstborn that open every womb
8:17. For all the firstborn of the children of Israel, both of men and
of beasts, are mine.  From the day that I slew every firstborn in the
land of Egypt, have I sanctified them to myself:
8:18. And I have taken the Levites for all the firstborn of the
children of Israel:
8:19. And have delivered them for a gift to Aaron and his sons out of
the midst of the people, to serve me for Israel in the tabernacle of
the covenant, and to pray for them, lest there should be a plague among
the people, if they should presume to approach unto my sanctuary.
8:20. And Moses and Aaron and all the multitude of the children of
Israel did with the Levites all that the Lord had commanded Moses
8:21. And they were purified, and washed their garments.  And Aaron
lifted them up in the sight of the Lord, and prayed for them,
8:22. That being purified they might go into the tabernacle of the
covenant to do their services before Aaron and his sons.  As the Lord
had commanded Moses touching the Levites, so was it done.
8:23. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
8:24. This is the law of the Levites:  From twenty-five years old and
upwards, they shall go in to minister in the tabernacle of the
8:25. And when they shall have accomplished the fiftieth year of their
age, they shall cease to serve:
8:26. And they shall be the ministers of their brethren in the
tabernacle of the covenant, to keep the things that are committed to
their care, but not to do the works.  Thus shalt thou order the Levites
touching their charge.
Numbers Chapter 9
The precept of the pasch is renewed:  the unclean and travellers are to
observe it the second month:  the camp is guided by the pillar of the
9:1. The Lord spoke to Moses in the desert of Sinai, the second year
after they were come out of the land of Egypt, in the first month,
9:2. Let the children of Israel make the phase in its due time,
Make the phase. . .That is, keep the paschal solemnity, and eat the
paschal lamb.
9:3. The fourteenth day of this month in the evening, according to all
the ceremonies and justifications thereof.
9:4. And Moses commanded the children of Israel that they should make
9:5. And they made it in its proper time:  the fourteenth day of the
month at evening, in mount Sinai.  The children of Israel did according
to all things that the Lord had commanded Moses.
9:6. But behold some who were unclean by occasion of the soul of a man,
who could not make the phase on that day, coming to Moses and Aaron,
Behold some who were unclean by occasion of the soul of a man,
etc. . .That is, by having touched or come near a dead body, out of which
the soul was departed.
9:7. Said to them:  We are unclean by occasion of the soul of a man.  Why
are we kept back that we may not offer in its season the offering to
the Lord among the children of Israel?
9:8. And Moses answered them:  Stay that I may consult the Lord what he
will ordain concerning you.
9:9. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
9:10. Say to the children of Israel:  The man that shall be unclean by
occasion of one that is dead, or shall be in a journey afar off in your
nation, let him make the phase to the Lord.
9:11. In the second month, on the fourteenth day of the month in the
evening, they shall eat it with unleavened bread and wild lettuce:
9:12. They shall not leave any thing thereof until morning, nor break a
bone thereof, they shall observe all the ceremonies of the phase.
9:13. But if any man is clean, and was not on a journey, and did not
make the phase, that soul shall be cut off from among his people,
because he offered not sacrifice to the Lord in due season:  he shall
bear his sin.
9:14. The sojourner also and the stranger if they be among you, shall
make the phase to the Lord according to the ceremonies and
justifications thereof.  The same ordinances shall be with you both for
the stranger, and for him that was born in the land.
9:15. Now on the day that the tabernacle was reared up, a cloud covered
it.  But from the evening there was over the tabernacle, as it were, the
appearance of fire until the morning.
9:16. So it was always:  by day the cloud covered it, and by night as it
were the appearance of fire.
9:17. And when the cloud that covered the tabernacle was taken up, then
the children of Israel marched forward:  and in the place where the
cloud stood still, there they camped.
9:18. At the commandment of the Lord they marched, and at his
commandment they pitched the tabernacle.  All the days that the cloud
abode over the tabernacle, they remained in the same place:
9:19. And if it was so that it continued over it a long time, the
children of Israel kept the watches of the Lord, and marched not,
9:20. For as many days soever as the cloud stayed over the tabernacle.
At the commandment of the Lord they pitched their tents, and at his
commandment they took them down.
9:21. If the cloud tarried from evening until morning, and immediately
at break of day left the tabernacle, they marched forward:  and if it
departed after a day and a night, they took down their tents.
9:22. But if it remained over the tabernacle for two days or a month or
a longer time, the children of Israel remained in the same place, and
marched not:  but immediately as soon as it departed, they removed the
9:23. By the word of the Lord they pitched their tents, and by his word
they marched:  and kept the watches of the Lord according to his
commandment by the hand of Moses.
Numbers Chapter 10
The silver trumpets and their use.  They march from Sinai.
10:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
10:2. Make thee two trumpets of beaten silver, wherewith thou mayest
call together the multitude when the camp is to be removed.
10:3. And when thou shalt sound the trumpets, all the multitude shall
gather unto thee to the door of the tabernacle of the covenant.
10:4. If thou sound but once, the princes and the heads of the
multitude of Israel shall come to thee.
10:5. But if the sound of the trumpets be longer, and with
interruptions, they that are on the east side, shall first go forward.
10:6. And at the second sounding and like noise of the trumpet, they
who lie on the south side shall take up their tents.  And after this
manner shall the rest do, when the trumpets shall sound for a march.
10:7. But when the people is to be gathered together, the sound of the
trumpets shall be plain, and they shall not make a broken sound.
10:8. And the sons of Aaron the priest shall sound the trumpets:  and
this shall be an ordinance for ever in your generations.
10:9. If you go forth to war out of your land against the enemies that
fight against you, you shall sound aloud with the trumpets, and there
shall be a remembrance of you before the Lord your God, that you may be
delivered out of the hands of your enemies.
10:10. If at any time you shall have a banquet, and on your festival
days, and on the first days of your months, you shall sound the
trumpets over the holocausts, and the sacrifices of peace offerings,
that they may be to you for a remembrance of your God.  I am the Lord
10:11. The second year, in the second month, the twentieth day of the
month, the cloud was taken up from the tabernacle of the covenant.
10:12. And the children of Israel marched by their troops from the
desert of Sinai, and the cloud rested in the wilderness of Pharan.
10:13. And the first went forward according to the commandment of the
Lord by the hand of Moses.
10:14. The sons of Juda by their troops:  whose prince was Nahasson the
son of Aminadab.
10:15. In the tribe of the sons of Issachar, the prince was Nathanael
the son of Suar.
10:16. In the tribe of Zabulon, the prince was Eliab the son of Helon.
10:17. And the tabernacle was taken down, and the sons of Gerson and
Merari set forward, bearing it.
10:18. And the sons of Ruben also marched, by their troops and ranks,
whose prince was Helisur the son of Sedeur.
10:19. And in the tribe of Simeon, the prince was Salamiel the son of
10:20. And in the tribe of Gad, the prince was Eliasaph the son of
10:21. Then the Caathites also marched carrying the sanctuary.  So long
was the tabernacle carried, till they came to the place of setting it
10:22. The sons of Ephraim also moved their camp by their troops, in
whose army the prince was Elisama the son of Ammiud.
10:23. And in the tribe of the sons of Manasses, the prince was
Gamaliel the son of Phadassur.
10:24. And in the tribe of Benjamin, the prince was Abidan the son of
10:25. The last of all the camp marched the sons of Dan by their
troops, in whose army the prince was Ahiezer the son of Ammisaddai.
10:26. And in the tribe of the sons of Aser, the prince was Phegiel the
son of Ochran.
10:27. And in the tribe of the sons of Nephtali, the prince was Ahira
the son of Enan.
10:28. This was the order of the camps, and marches of the children of
Israel by their troops, when they set forward.
10:29. And Moses said to Hobab the son of Raguel the Madianite, his
kinsman:  We are going towards the place which the Lord will give us:
come with us, that we may do thee good:  for the Lord hath promised good
things to Israel.
10:30. But he answered him:  I will not go with thee, but I will return
to my country, wherein I was born.
10:31. And he said:  Do not leave us:  for thou knowest in what places we
should encamp in the wilderness, and thou shalt be our guide.
10:32. And if thou comest with us, we will give thee what is the best
of the riches which the Lord shall deliver to us.
10:33. So they marched from the mount of the Lord three days' journey,
and the ark of the covenant of the Lord went before them, for three
days providing a place for the camp.
10:34. The cloud also of the Lord was over them by day when they
10:35. And when the ark was lifted up, Moses said:  Arise, O Lord, and
let thy enemies be scattered, and let them that hate thee, flee from
before thy face.
10:36. And when it was set down, he said:  Return, O Lord, to the
multitude of the host of Israel.
Numbers Chapter 11
The people murmur and are punished with fire.  God appointeth seventy
ancients for assistants to Moses.  They prophesy.  The people have their
fill of flesh, but forthwith many die of the plague.
11:1. In the mean time there arose a murmuring of the people against
the Lord, as it were repining at their fatigue.  And when the Lord heard
it he was angry.  And the fire of the Lord being kindled against them,
devoured them that were at the uttermost part of the camp.
11:2. And when the people cried to Moses, Moses prayed to the Lord, and
the fire was swallowed up.
11:3. And he called the name of that place, The burning:  for that the
fire of the Lord had been kindled against them.
The burning. . .Hebrew, Taberah.
11:4. For a mixt multitude of people, that came up with them, burned
with desire, sitting and weeping, the children of Israel also being
joined with them, and said:  Who shall give us flesh to eat?
A mixt multitude. . .These were people that came with them out of Egypt,
who were not of the race of Israel; who, by their murmuring, drew also
the children of Israel to murmur:  this should teach us the danger of
associating ourselves with the children of Egypt, that is, with the
lovers and admirers of this wicked world.
11:5. We remember the fish that we ate in Egypt free cost:  the
cucumbers come into our mind, and the melons, and the leeks, and the
onions, and the garlic.
11:6. Our soul is dry, our eyes behold nothing else but manna.
11:7. Now the manna was like coriander seed, of the colour of bdellium.
Bdellium. . .Bdellium, according to Pliny, 1.21, c. 9. was of the colour
of a man's nail, white and bright.
11:8. And the people went about, and gathering it, ground it in a mill,
or beat it in a mortar, and boiled it in a pot, and made cakes thereof
of the taste of bread tempered with oil.
11:9. And when the dew fell in the night upon the camp, the manna also
fell with it.
11:10. Now Moses heard the people weeping by their families, every one
at the door of his tent.  And the wrath of the Lord was exceedingly
enkindled:  to Moses also the thing seemed insupportable.
11:11. And he said to the Lord:  Why hast thou afflicted thy servant?
Wherefore do I not find favour before thee?  And why hast thou laid the
weight of all this people upon me?
11:12. Have I conceived all this multitude, or begotten them, that thou
shouldst say to me:  Carry them in thy bosom as the nurse is wont to
carry the little infant, and bear them into the land, for which thou
hast sworn to their fathers?
11:13. Whence should I have flesh to give to so great a multitude?  They
weep against me, saying:  Give us flesh that we may eat.
11:14. I am not able alone to bear all this people, because it is too
heavy for me.
11:15. But if it seem unto thee otherwise, I beseech thee to kill me,
and let me find grace in thy eyes, that I be not afflicted with so
great evils.
11:16. And the Lord said to Moses:  Gather unto me seventy men of the
ancients of Israel, whom thou knowest to be ancients and masters of the
people:  and thou shalt bring them to the door of the tabernacle of the
covenant, and shalt make them stand there with thee,
Seventy men. . .This was the first institution of the council or senate,
called the Sanhedrin, consisting of seventy or seventy-two senators or
counsellors.
11:17. That I may come down and speak with thee:  and I will take of thy
spirit, and will give to them, that they may bear with thee the burden
of the people, and thou mayest not be burthened alone.
11:18. And thou shalt say to the people:  Be ye sanctified:  to morrow
you shall eat flesh:  for I have heard you say:  Who will give us flesh
to eat?  It was well with us in Egypt.  That the Lord may give you flesh,
and you may eat:
11:19. Not for one day, nor two, nor five, nor ten, no nor for twenty.
11:20. But even for a month of days, till it come out at your nostrils,
and become loathsome to you, because you have cast off the Lord, who is
in the midst of you, and have wept before him, saying:  Why came we out
11:21. And Moses said:  There are six hundred thousand footmen of this
people, and sayest thou:  I will give them flesh to eat a whole month?
11:22. Shall then a multitude of sheep and oxen be killed, that it may
suffice for their food?  or shall the fishes of the sea be gathered
together to fill them?
11:23. And the Lord answered him:  Is the hand of the Lord unable?  Thou
shalt presently see whether my word shall come to pass or no.
11:24. Moses therefore came, and told the people the words of the Lord,
and assembled seventy men of the ancients of Israel, and made them to
stand about the tabernacle.
11:25. And the Lord came down in a cloud, and spoke to him, taking away
of the spirit that was in Moses, and giving to the seventy men.  And
when the spirit had rested on them they prophesied, nor did they cease
11:26. Now there remained in the camp two of the men, of whom one was
called Eldad, and the other Medad, upon whom the spirit rested; for
they also had been enrolled, but were not gone forth to the tabernacle.
11:27. And when they prophesied in the camp, there ran a young man, and
told Moses, saying:  Eldad and Medad prophesy in the camp.
11:28. Forthwith Josue the son of Nun, the minister of Moses, and
chosen out of many, said:  My lord Moses forbid them.
11:29. But he said:  Why hast thou emulation for me?  O that all the
people might prophesy, and that the Lord would give them his spirit!
11:30. And Moses returned, with the ancients of Israel, into the camp.
11:31. And a wind going out from the Lord, taking quails up beyond the
sea brought them, and cast them into the camp for the space of one
day's journey, on every side of the camp round about, and they flew in
the air two cubits high above the ground.
11:32. The people therefore rising up all that day, and night, and the
next day, gathered together of quails, he that did least, ten cores:
and they dried them round about the camp.
11:33. As yet the flesh was between their teeth, neither had that kind
of meat failed:  when behold the wrath of the Lord being provoked
against the people, struck them with an exceeding great plague.
11:34. And that place was called, The graves of lust:  for there they
buried the people that had lusted.  And departing from the graves of
lust, they came unto Haseroth, and abode there.
The graves of lust. . .Or, the sepulchres of concupiscence:  so called
from their irregular desire of flesh.  In Hebrew, Kibroth.  Hattaavah.
Numbers Chapter 12
Mary and Aaron murmur against Moses, whom God praiseth above other
prophets.  Mary being struck with leprosy, Aaron confesseth his fault.
Moses prayeth for her, and after seven days' separation from the camp,
she is restored.
12:1. And Mary and Aaron spoke against Moses, because of his wife the
Ethiopian. . .Sephora the wife of Moses was of Madian, which bordered
upon the land of Chus or Ethiopia:  where note, that the Ethiopia here
spoken of is not that of Africa but that of Arabia.
12:2. And they said:  Hath the Lord spoken by Moses only?  Hath he not
also spoken to us in like manner?  And when the Lord heard this,
12:3. (For Moses was a man exceeding meek above all men that dwelt upon
Exceeding meek. . .Moses being the meekest of men, would not contend for
himself; therefore, God inspired him to write here his own defence:  and
the Holy Spirit, whose dictate he wrote, obliged him to declare the
truth, though it was so much to his own praise.
12:4. Immediately he spoke to him, and to Aaron and Mary:  Come out you
three only to the tabernacle of the covenant.  And when they were come
12:5. The Lord came down in a pillar of the cloud, and stood in the
entry of the tabernacle calling to Aaron and Mary.  And when they were
12:6. He said to them:  Hear my words:  if there be among you a prophet
of the Lord, I will appear to him in a vision, or I will speak to him
12:7. But it is not so with my servant Moses who is most faithful in
all my house:
12:8. For I speak to him mouth to mouth:  and plainly, and not by
riddles and figures doth he see the Lord.  Why then were you not afraid
to speak ill of my servant Moses?
12:9. And being angry with them he went away:
12:10. The cloud also that was over the tabernacle departed:  and behold
Mary appeared white as snow with a leprosy.  And when Aaron had looked
on her, and saw her all covered with leprosy,
12:11. He said to Moses:  I beseech thee, my lord, lay not upon us this
sin, which we have foolishly committed:
12:12. Let her not be as one dead, and as an abortive that is cast
forth from the mother's womb.  Lo, now one half of her flesh is consumed
with the leprosy.
12:13. And Moses cried to the Lord, saying O God, I beseech thee heal
12:14. And the Lord answered him:  If her father had spitten upon her
face, ought she not to have been ashamed for seven days at least?  Let
her be separated seven days without the camp, and afterwards she shall
be called again.
12:15. Mary therefore was put out of the camp seven days:  and the
people moved not from that place until Mary was called again.
Numbers Chapter 13
The twelve spies are sent to view the land.  The relation they make of
13:1. And the people marched from Haseroth, and pitched their tents in
the desert of Pharan.
13:2. And there the Lord spoke to Moses, saying.
13:3. Send men to view the land of Chanaan, which I will give to the
children of Israel, one of every tribe, of the rulers.
13:4. Moses did what the Lord had commanded, sending from the desert of
Pharan, principal men, whose names are these:
13:5. Of the tribe of Ruben, Sammua the son of Zechur.
13:6. Of the tribe of Simeon, Saphat the son of Huri.
13:7. Of the tribe of Juda, Caleb the son of Jephone.
13:8. Of the tribe of Issachar, Igal the son of Joseph.
13:9. Of the tribe of Ephraim, Osee the son of Nun.
13:10. Of the tribe of Benjamin, Phalti the son of Raphu.
13:11. Of the tribe of Zabulon, Geddiel the son of Sodi.
13:12. Of the tribe of Joseph, of the sceptre of Manasses, Gaddi the
son of Susi.
13:13. Of the tribe of Dan, Ammiel the son of Gemalli.
13:14. Of the tribe of Aser, Sthur the son of Michael.
13:15. Of the tribe of Nephtali, Nahabi the son of Vapsi.
13:16. Of the tribe of Gad, Guel the son of Machi.
13:17. These are the names of the men, whom Moses sent to view the
land:  and he called Osee the son of Nun, Josue.
13:18. And Moses sent them to view the land of Chanaan, and said to
them:  Go you up by the south side.  And when you shall come to the
13:19. View the land, of what sort it is, and the people that are the
inhabitants thereof, whether they be strong or weak:  few in number or
13:20. The land itself, whether it be good or bad:  what manner of
cities, walled or without walls:
13:21. The ground, fat or barren, woody or without trees.  Be of good
courage, and bring us of the fruits of the land.  Now it was the time
when the firstripe grapes are fit to be eaten.
13:22. And when they were gone up, they viewed the land from the desert
of Sin, unto Rohob as you enter into Emath.
13:23. And they went up at the south side, and came to Hebron, where
were Achiman and Sisai and Tholmai the sons of Enac.  For Hebron was
built seven years before Tanis the city of Egypt.
13:24. And forward as far as the torrent of the cluster of grapes, they
cut off a branch with its cluster of grapes, which two men carried upon
a lever.  They took also of the pomegranates and of the figs of that
13:25. Which was called Nehelescol, that is to say, the torrent of the
cluster of grapes, because from thence the children of Israel had
carried a cluster of grapes.
13:26. And they that went to spy out the land returned after forty
days, having gone round all the country,
13:27. And came to Moses and Aaron and to all the assembly of the
children of Israel to the desert of Pharan, which is in Cades.  And
speaking to them and to all the multitude, they shewed them the fruits
of the land:
13:28. And they related and said:  We came into the land to which thou
sentest us, which in very deed floweth with milk and honey as may be
known by these fruits:
13:29. But it hath very strong inhabitants, and the cities are great
and walled.  We saw there the race of Enac.
13:30. Amalec dwelleth in the south, the Hethite and the Jebusite and
the Amorrhite in the mountains:  but the Chanaanite abideth by the sea
and near the streams of the Jordan.
13:31. In the mean time Caleb, to still the murmuring of the people
that rose against Moses, said:  Let us go up and possess the land, for
we shall be able to conquer it.
13:32. But the others, that had been with him, said:  No, we are not
able to go up to this people, because they are stronger than we.
13:33. And they spoke ill of the land, which they had viewed, before
the children of Israel, saying:  The land which we have viewed,
devoureth its inhabitants:  the people, that we beheld are of a tall
Spoke ill, etc. . .These men, who by their misrepresentations of the
land of promise, discouraged the Israelites from attempting the
conquest of it, were a figure of worldlings, who, by decrying or
misrepresenting true devotion, discourage Christians from seeking in
earnest and acquiring so great a good, and thereby securing to
themselves a happy eternity.
13:34. There we saw certain monsters of the sons of Enac, of the giant
kind:  in comparison of whom, we seemed like locusts.
Numbers Chapter 14
The people murmur.  God threateneth to destroy them.  He is appeased by
Moses, yet so as to exclude the murmurers from entering the promised
land.  The authors of the sedition are struck dead.  The rest going to
fight against the will of God are beaten.
14:1. Therefore the whole multitude crying wept that night.
14:2. And all the children of Israel murmured against Moses and Aaron,
14:3. Would God that we had died in Egypt:  and would God we may die in
this vast wilderness, and that the Lord may not bring us into this
land, lest we fall by the sword, and our wives and children be led away
captives.  Is it not better to return into Egypt?
14:4. And they said one to another:  Let us appoint a captain, and let
us return into Egypt.
14:5. And when Moses and Aaron heard this, they fell down flat upon the
ground before the multitude of the children of Israel.
14:6. But Josue the son of Nun, and Caleb the son of Jephone, who
themselves also had viewed the land, rent their garments,
14:7. And said to all the multitude of the children of Israel:  The land
which we have gone round is very good:
14:8. If the Lord be favourable, he will bring us into it, and give us
a land flowing with milk and honey.
14:9. Be not rebellious against the Lord:  and fear ye not the people of
this land, for we are able to eat them up as bread.  All aid is gone
from them:  the Lord is with us, fear ye not.
14:10. And when all the multitude cried out, and would have stoned
them, the glory of the Lord appeared over the tabernacle of the
covenant to all the children of Israel.
14:11. And the Lord said to Moses:  How long will this people detract
me?  how long will they not believe me for all the signs that I have
wrought before them?
14:12. I will strike them therefore with pestilence, and will consume
them:  but thee I will make a ruler over a great nation, and a mightier
than this is.
14:13. And Moses said to the Lord:  That the Egyptians, from the midst
of whom thou hast brought forth this people,
14:14. And the inhabitants of this land, (who have heard that thou, O
Lord, art among this people, and art seen face to face, and thy cloud
protecteth them, and thou goest before them in a pillar of a cloud by
day, and in a pillar of fire by night,)
14:15. May hear that thou hast killed so great a multitude as it were
one man and may say:
14:16. He could not bring the people into the land for which he had
sworn, therefore did he kill them in the wilderness.
14:17. Let then the strength of the Lord be magnified, as thou hast
sworn, saying:
14:18. The Lord is patient and full of mercy, by taking away iniquity
and wickedness, and leaving no man clear, who visitest the sins of the
fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.
Clear. . .i.  e., who deserves punishment.
14:19. Forgive, I beseech thee, the sins of this people, according to
the greatness of thy mercy, as thou hast been merciful to them from
their going out of Egypt unto this place.
14:20. And the Lord said:  I have forgiven according to thy word.
14:21. As I live:  and the whole earth shall be filled with the glory of
14:22. But yet all the men that have seen my majesty, and the signs
that I have done in Egypt, and in the wilderness, and have tempted me
now ten times, and have not obeyed my voice,
14:23. Shall not see the land for which I swore to their fathers,
neither shall any one of them that hath detracted me behold it.
14:24. My servant Caleb, who being full of another spirit hath followed
me, I will bring into this land which he hath gone round:  and his seed
shall possess it.
14:25. For the Amalecite and the Chanaanite dwell in the valleys.  To
morrow remove the camp, and return into the wilderness by the way of
the Red Sea.
14:26. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
14:27. How long doth this wicked multitude murmur against me?  I have
heard the murmurings of the children of Israel.
14:28. Say therefore to them:  As I live, saith the Lord:  According as
you have spoken in my hearing, so will I do to you.
14:29. In the wilderness shall your carcasses lie.  All you that were
numbered from twenty years old and upward, and have murmured against
14:30. Shall not enter into the land, over which I lifted up my hand to
make you dwell therein, except Caleb the son of Jephone, and Josue the
14:31. But your children, of whom you said, that they should be a prey
to the enemies, will I bring in:  that they may see the land which you
have despised.
14:32. Your carcasses shall lie in the wilderness.
14:33. Your children shall wander in the desert forty years, and shall
bear your fornication, until the carcasses of their fathers be consumed
in the desert,
Shall bear your fornication. . .That is, shall bear the punishment of
your disloyalty to God, which in the scripture language is here called
a fornication, in a spiritual sense.
14:34. According to the number of the forty days, wherein you viewed
the land:  a year shall be counted for a day.  And forty years you shall
receive your iniquities, and shall know my revenge:
14:35. For as I have spoken, so will I do to all this wicked multitude,
that hath risen up together against me:  in this wilderness shall it
faint away and die.
14:36. Therefore all the men, whom Moses had sent to view the land, and
who at their return had made the whole multitude to murmur against him,
speaking ill of the land that it was naught,
14:37. Died and were struck in the sight of the Lord.
14:38. But Josue the son of Nun, and Caleb had gone to view the land.
14:39. And Moses spoke all these words to all the children of Israel,
and the people mourned exceedingly.
14:40. And behold rising up very early in the morning, they went up to
the top of the mountain, and said:  We are ready to go up to the place,
of which the Lord hath spoken:  for we have sinned.
14:41. And Moses said to them:  Why transgress you the word of the Lord,
which shall not succeed prosperously with you?
14:42. Go not up, for the Lord is not with you:  lest you fall before
your enemies.
14:43. The Amalecite and the Chanaanite are before you, and by their
sword you shall fall, because you would not consent to the Lord,
neither will the Lord be with you.
14:44. But they being blinded went up to the top of the mountain.  But
the ark of the testament of the Lord and Moses departed not from the
14:45. And the Amalecite came down, and the Chanaanite that dwelt in
the mountain:  and smiting and slaying them pursued them as far as
Numbers Chapter 15
Certain laws concerning sacrifices.  Sabbath breaking is punished with
death.  The law of fringes on their garments.
15:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
15:2. Speak to the children of Israel and thou shalt say to them:  When
you shall be come unto the land of your habitation, which I will give
15:3. And shall make an offering to the Lord, for a holocaust, or a
victim, paying your vows, or voluntarily offering gifts, or in your
solemnities burning a sweet savour unto the Lord, of oxen or of sheep:
15:4. Whosoever immolateth the victim, shall offer a sacrifice of fine
flour, the tenth part of an ephi, tempered with the fourth part of a
15:5. And he shall give the same measure of wine to pour out in
libations for the holocaust or for the victim.  For every lamb,
15:6. And for every ram there shall be a sacrifice of flour of two
tenths, which shall be tempered with the third part of a hin of oil:
15:7. And he shall offer the third part the same measure of wine for
the libation, for a sweet savour to the Lord.
15:8. But when thou offerest a holocaust or sacrifice of oxen, to
fulfil thy vow or for victims of peace offerings,
15:9. Thou shalt give for every ox three tenths of flour tempered with
half a hin of oil,
15:10. And wine for libations of the same measure, for an offering of
most sweet savour to the Lord.
15:11. Thus shalt thou do
15:12. For every ox and ram and lamb and kid.
15:13. Both they that are born in the land, and the strangers
15:14. Shall offer sacrifices after the same rite.
15:15. There shall be all one law and judgment both for you and for
them who are strangers in the land.
15:16. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
15:17. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:
15:18. When you are come into the land which I will give you,
15:19. And shall eat of the bread of that country, you shall separate
firstfruits to the Lord,
15:20. Of the things you eat.  As you separate firstfruits of your
15:21. So also shall you give firstfruits of your dough to the Lord.
15:22. And if through ignorance you omit any of these things, which the
Lord hath spoken to Moses,
15:23. And by him hath commanded you from the day that he began to
command and thenceforward,
15:24. And the multitude have forgotten to do it:  they shall offer a
calf out of the herd, a holocaust for a most sweet savour to the Lord,
and the sacrifice and libations thereof, as the ceremonies require, and
a buck goat for sin:
15:25. And the priest shall pray for all the multitude of the children
of Israel:  and it shall be forgiven them, because they sinned
ignorantly, offering notwithstanding a burnt offering to the Lord for
themselves and for their sin and their Ignorance:
15:26. And it shall be forgiven all the people of the children of
Israel:  and the strangers that sojourn among them:  because it is the
fault of all the people through ignorance.
15:27. But if one soul shall sin ignorantly, he shall offer a she goat
of a year old for his sin.
15:28. And the priest shall pray for him, because he sinned ignorantly
before the Lord:  and he shall obtain his pardon, and it shall be
forgiven him.
15:29. The same law shall be for all that sin by ignorance, whether
they be natives or strangers.
15:30. But the soul that committeth any thing through pride, whether he
be born in the land or a stranger (because he hath been rebellious
against the Lord) shall be cut off from among his people:
15:31. For he hath contemned the word of the Lord, and made void his
precept:  therefore shall he be destroyed, and shall bear his iniquity.
15:32. And it came to pass, when the children of Israel were in the
wilderness, and had found a man gathering sticks on the sabbath day,
15:33. That they brought him to Moses and Aaron and the whole
15:34. And they put him into prison, not knowing what they should do
15:35. And the Lord said to Moses:  Let that man die, let all the
multitude stone him without the camp.
15:36. And when they had brought him out, they stoned him, and he died
as the Lord had commanded.
15:37. The Lord also said to Moses:
15:38. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt tell them to
make to themselves fringes in the corners of their garments, putting in
them ribands of blue:
Fringes. . .The Pharisees enlarged these fringes through hypocrisy,
Matt. 23.5, to appear more zealous than other men for the law of God.
15:39. That when they shall see them, they may remember all the
commandments of the Lord, and not follow their own thoughts and eyes
going astray after divers things,
15:40. But rather being mindful of the precepts of the Lord, may do
them and be holy to their God.
15:41. I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of
Egypt, that I might be your God.
Numbers Chapter 16
The schism of Core and his adherents:  their punishment.
16:1. And behold Core the son of Isaar, the son of Caath, the son of
Levi, and Dathan and Abiron the sons of Eliab, and Hon the son of
Pheleth of the children of Ruben,
16:2. Rose up against Moses, and with them two hundred and fifty others
of the children of Israel, leading men of the synagogue, and who in the
time of assembly were called by name.
Rose up. . .The crime of these men, which was punished in so remarkable
a manner, was that of schism, and of rebellion against the authority
established by God in the church; and their pretending to the
priesthood without being lawfully called and sent:  the same is the case
of all modern sectaries.
16:3. And when they had stood up against Moses and Aaron, they said:
Let it be enough for you, that all the multitude consisteth of holy
ones, and the Lord is among them:  Why lift you up yourselves above the
people of the Lord?
16:4. When Moses heard this, he fell flat on his face:
16:5. And speaking to Core and all the multitude, he said:  In the
morning the Lord will make known who belong to him, and the holy he
will join to himself:  and whom he shall choose, they shall approach to
16:6. Do this therefore:  Take every man of you your censers, thou Core,
and all thy company.
16:7. And putting fire in them to morrow, put incense upon it before
the Lord:  and whomsoever he shall choose, the same shall be holy:  you
take too much upon you, ye sons of Levi.
16:8. And he said again to Core:  Hear ye sons of Levi.
16:9. Is it a small thing unto you, that the God of Israel hath spared
you from all the people, and joined you to himself, that you should
serve him in the service of the tabernacle, and should stand before the
congregation of the people, and should minister to him?
16:10. Did he therefore make thee and all thy brethren the sons of Levi
to approach unto him, that you should challenge to yourselves the
priesthood also,
16:11. And that all thy company should stand against the Lord?  for what
is Aaron that you murmur against him?
16:12. Then Moses sent to call Dathan and Abiron the sons of Eliab.  But
they answered:  We will not come.
16:13. Is it a small matter to thee, that thou hast brought us out of a
land that flowed with milk and honey, to kill us in the desert, except
thou rule also like a lord over us?
16:14. Thou hast brought us indeed into a land that floweth with rivers
of milk and honey, and hast given us possessions of fields and
vineyards; wilt thou also pull out our eyes?  We will not come.
16:15. Moses therefore being very angry, said to the Lord:  Respect not
their sacrifices:  thou knowest that I have not taken of them so much as
a young ass at any time, nor have injured any of them.
Very angry. . .This anger was a zeal against sin; and an indignation at
the affront offered to God; like that which the same holy prophet
conceived upon the sight of the golden calf, Ex. 32.19.
16:16. And he said to Core:  Do thou and thy congregation stand apart
before the Lord to morrow, and Aaron apart.
16:17. Take every one of you censers, and put incense upon them,
offering to the Lord two hundred and fifty censers:  let Aaron also hold
16:18. When they had done this, Moses and Aaron standing,
16:19. And had drawn up all the multitude against them to the door of
the tabernacle, the glory of the Lord appeared to them all.
16:20. And the Lord speaking to Moses and Aaron, said:
16:21. Separate yourselves from among this congregation, that I may
presently destroy them.
16:22. They fell flat on their face, and said:  O most mighty, the God
of the spirits of all flesh, for one man's sin shall thy wrath rage
against all?
16:23. And the Lord said to Moses:
16:24. Command the whole people to separate themselves from the tents
of Core and Dathan and Abiron.
16:25. And Moses arose, and went to Dathan and Abiron:  and the ancients
of Israel following him,
16:26. He said to the multitude:  Depart from the tents of these wicked
men, and touch nothing of theirs, lest you be involved in their sins.
16:27. And when they were departed from their tents round about, Dathan
and Abiron coming out stood in the entry of their pavilions with their
wives and children, and all the people.
16:28. And Moses said:  By this you shall know that the Lord hath sent
me to do all things that you see, and that I have not forged them of my
16:29. If these men die the common death of men, and if they be visited
with a plague, wherewith others also are wont to be visited, the Lord
did not send me.
16:30. But if the Lord do a new thing, and the earth opening her mouth
swallow them down, and all things that belong to them, and they go down
alive into hell, you shall know that they have blasphemed the Lord.
16:31. And immediately as he had made an end of speaking, the earth
broke asunder under their feet:
16:32. And opening her mouth, devoured them with their tents and all
their substance.
16:33. And they went down alive into hell, the ground closing upon
them, and they perished from among the people.
16:34. But all Israel, that was standing round about, fled at the cry
of them that were perishing:  saying:  Lest perhaps the earth swallow us
16:35. And a fire coming out from the Lord, destroyed the two hundred
and fifty men that offered the incense.
16:36. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
16:37. Command Eleazar the son of Aaron the priest to take up the
censers that lie in the burning, and to scatter the fire of one side
and the other:  because they are sanctified
16:38. In the deaths of the sinners:  and let him beat them into plates,
and fasten them to the altar, because incense hath been offered in them
to the Lord, and they are sanctified, that the children of Israel may
see them for a sign and a memorial.
16:39. Then Eleazar the priest took the brazen censers, wherein they
had offered, whom the burning fire had devoured, and beat them into
plates, fastening them to the altar:
16:40. That the children of Israel might have for the time to come
wherewith they should be admonished, that no stranger or any one that
is not of the seed of Aaron should come near to offer incense to the
Lord, lest he should suffer as Core suffered, and all his congregation,
according as the Lord spoke to Moses.
16:41. The following day all the multitude of the children of Israel
murmured against Moses and Aaron, saying:  You have killed the people of
16:42. And when there arose a sedition, and the tumult increased,
16:43. Moses and Aaron fled to the tabernacle of the covenant.  And when
they were gone into it, the cloud covered it, and the glory of the Lord
16:44. And the Lord said to Moses:
16:45. Get you out from the midst of this multitude, this moment will I
destroy them.  And as they were lying on the ground,
16:46. Moses said to Aaron:  Take the censer, and putting fire in it
from the altar, put incense upon it, and go quickly to the people to
pray for them:  for already wrath is gone out from the Lord, and the
plague rageth.
16:47. When Aaron had done this, and had run to the midst of the
multitude which the burning fire was now destroying, he offered the
16:48. And standing between the dead and the living, he prayed for the
people, and the plague ceased.
16:49. And the number of them that were slain was fourteen thousand and
seven hundred men, besides them that had perished in the sedition of
16:50. And Aaron returned to Moses to the door of the tabernacle of the
covenant after the destruction was over.
Numbers Chapter 17
The priesthood is confirmed to Aaron by the miracle of the blooming of
his rod, which is kept for a monument in the tabernacle.
17:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
17:2. Speak to the children of Israel, and take of every one of them a
rod by their kindreds, of all the princes of the tribes, twelve rods,
and write the name of every man upon his rod.
17:3. And the name of Aaron shall be for the tribe of Levi, and one rod
shall contain all their families:
17:4. And thou shalt lay them up in the tabernacle of the covenant
before the testimony, where I will speak to thee.
17:5. Whomsoever of these I shall choose, his rod shall blossom:  and I
will make to cease from me the murmurings of the children of Israel,
wherewith they murmur against you.
17:6. And Moses spoke to the children of Israel:  and all the princes
gave him rods one for every tribe:  and there were twelve rods besides
the rod of Aaron.
17:7. And when Moses had Laid them up before the Lord in the tabernacle
of the testimony:
17:8. He returned on the following day, and found that the rod of Aaron
for the house of Levi, was budded:  and that the buds swelling it hid
bloomed blossoms, which spreading the leaves, were formed into almonds.
The rod of Aaron for the house of Levi, was budded, etc. . .This rod of
Aaron which thus miraculously brought forth fruit, was a figure of the
blessed Virgin conceiving and bringing forth her Son without any
prejudice to her virginity.
17:9. Moses therefore brought out all the rods from before the Lord to
all the children of Israel:  and they saw, and every one received their
17:10. And the Lord said to Moses:  Carry back the rod of Aaron into the
tabernacle of the testimony, that it may be kept there for a token of
the rebellious children of Israel, and that their complaints may cease
from me lest they die.
17:11. And Moses did as the Lord had commanded.
17:12. And the children of Israel said to Moses:  Behold we are
consumed, we all perish.
17:13. Whosoever approacheth to the tabernacle of the Lord, he dieth.
Are we all to a man to be utterly destroyed?
Numbers Chapter 18
The charge of the priests and of the Levites, and their portion.
18:1. And the Lord said to Aaron:  Thou, and thy sons, and thy father's
house with thee shall bear the iniquity of the sanctuary:  and thou and
thy sons with thee shall bear the sins of your priesthood.
Thou, and thy father's house with thee, shall bear the iniquity of the
sanctuary. . .That is, you shall be punished if, through negligence or
want of due attention, you err in the discharge of the sacred functions
for which you were ordained.
18:2. And take with thee thy brethren also of the tribe of Levi, and
the sceptre of thy father, and let them be ready in hand, and minister
to thee:  but thou and thy sons shall minister in the tabernacle of the
18:3. And the Levites shall watch to do thy commands, and about all the
works of the tabernacle:  only they shall not come nigh the vessels of
the sanctuary nor the altar, lest both they die, and you also perish
18:4. But let them be with thee, and watch in the charge of the
tabernacle, and in all the ceremonies thereof.  A stranger shall not
join himself with you.
18:5. Watch ye in the charge of the sanctuary, and in the ministry of
the altar:  lest indignation rise upon the children of Israel.
18:6. I have given you your brethren the Levites from among the
children of Israel, and have delivered them for a gift to the Lord, to
serve in the ministries of the tabernacle.
18:7. But thou and thy sons look ye to the priesthood:  and all things
that pertain to the service of the altar, and that are within the veil,
shall be executed by the priests.  If any stranger shall approach, he
shall be slain.
18:8. And the Lord said to Aaron:  Behold I have given thee the charge
of my firstfruits.  All things that are sanctified by the children of
Israel, I have delivered to thee and to thy sons for the priestly
office, by everlasting ordinances.
18:9. These therefore shalt thou take of the things that are
sanctified, and are offered to the Lord.  Every offering, and sacrifice,
and whatsoever is rendered to me for sin and for trespass, and becometh
holy of holies, shall be for thee and thy sons.
18:10. Thou shalt eat it in the sanctuary:  the males only shall eat
thereof, because it is a consecrated thing to thee.
18:11. But the firstfruits, which the children of Israel shall vow and
offer, I have given to thee, and to thy sons, and to thy daughters, by
a perpetual law.  He that is clean in thy house, shall eat them.
18:12. All the best of the oil, and of the wine, and of the corn,
whatsoever firstfruits they offer to the Lord, I have given them to
18:13. All the firstripe of the fruits, that the ground bringeth forth,
and which are brought to the Lord, shall be for thy use:  he that is
clean in thy house, shall eat them.
18:14. Every thing that the children of Israel shall give by vow, shall
18:15. Whatsoever is firstborn of all flesh, which they offer to the
Lord, whether it be of men, or of beasts, shall belong to thee:  only
for the firstborn of man thou shalt take a price, and every beast that
is unclean thou shalt cause to be redeemed,
18:16. And the redemption of it shall be after one month, for five
sicles of silver, by the weight of the sanctuary.  A sicle hath twenty
18:17. But the firstling of a cow, and of a sheep and of a goat thou
shalt not cause to be redeemed, because they are sanctified to the
Lord.  Their blood only thou shalt pour upon the altar, and their fat
thou shalt burn for a most sweet odour to the Lord.
18:18. But the flesh shall fall to thy use, as the consecrated breast,
and the right shoulder shall be thine.
18:19. All the firstfruits of the sanctuary which the children of
Israel offer to the Lord, I have given to thee and to thy sons and
daughters, by a perpetual ordinance.  It is a covenant of salt for ever
before the Lord, to thee and to thy sons.
A covenant of salt. . .It is a proverbial expression, signifying a
covenant not to be altered or corrupted; as salt is used to keep things
from corruption; a covenant perpetual, like that by which it was
appointed, that salt should be used in every sacrifice.  Lev. 2.
18:20. And the Lord said to Aaron:  You shall possess nothing in their
land, neither shall you have a portion among them:  I am thy portion and
inheritance in the midst of the children of Israel.
18:21. And I have given to the sons of Levi all the tithes of Israel
for a possession, for the ministry wherewith they serve me in the
tabernacle of the covenant:
18:22. That the children of Israel may not approach any more to the
tabernacle, nor commit deadly sin,
Deadly sin. . .That is, sin which will bring death after it.
18:23. But only the sons of Levi may serve me in the tabernacle, and
bear the sins of the people.  It shall be an everlasting ordinance in
your generations.  They shall not possess any other thing,
18:24. But be content with the oblation or tithes, which I have
separated for their uses and necessities.
18:25. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
18:26. Command the Levites, and declare unto them:  When you shall
receive of the children of Israel the tithes, which I have given you,
offer the firstfruits of them to the Lord, that is to say, the tenth
part of the tenth:
18:27. That it may be reckoned to you as an oblation of firstfruits, as
well of the barnfloors as of the winepresses:
18:28. And of all the things of which you receive tithes, offer the
firstfruits to the Lord, and give them to Aaron the priest.
18:29. All the things that you shall offer of the tithes, and shall
separate for the gifts of the Lord, shall be the best and choicest
18:30. And thou shalt say to them:  If you offer all the goodly and the
better things of the tithes, it shall be reckoned to you as if you had
given the firstfruits of the barnfloor and the winepress:
18:31. And you shall eat them in all your places, both you and your
families:  because it is your reward for the ministry, wherewith you
serve in the tabernacle of the testimony.
18:32. And you shall not sin in this point, by reserving the choicest
and fat things to yourselves, lest you profane the oblations of the
children of Israel, and die.
Numbers Chapter 19
The law of the sacrifice of the red cow, and the water of expiation.
19:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying:
19:2. This is the observance of the victim, which the Lord hath
ordained.  Command the children of Israel, that they bring unto thee a
red cow of full age, in which there is no blemish, and which hath not
carried the yoke:
A red cow, etc. . .This red cow, offered in sacrifice for sin, and
consumed with fire without the camp, with the ashes of which, mingled
with water, the unclean were to be expiated and purified; was a figure
of the passion of Christ, by whose precious blood applied to our souls
in the holy sacraments, we are cleansed from our sins.
19:3. And you shall deliver her to Eleazar the priest, who shall bring
her forth without the camp, and shall immolate her in the sight of all:
19:4. And dipping his finger in her blood, shall sprinkle it over
against the door of the tabernacle seven times,
19:5. And shall burn her in the sight of all delivering up to the fire
her skin, and her flesh, and her blood, and her dung.
19:6. The priest shall also take cedar wood, and hyssop, and scarlet
twice dyed, and cast it into the flame, with which the cow is consumed.
19:7. And then after washing his garments, and body, he shall enter
into the camp, and shall be unclean until the evening.
19:8. He also that hath burned her, shall wash his garments, and his
body, and shall be unclean until the evening.
19:9. And a man that is clean shall gather up the ashes of the cow, and
shall pour them forth without the camp in a most clean place, that they
may be reserved for the multitude of the children of Israel, and for a
water of aspersion:  because the cow was burnt for sin.
19:10. And when he that carried the ashes of the cow, hath washed his
garments, he shall be unclean until the evening.  The children of
Israel, and the strangers that dwell among them, shall observe this for
a holy thing by a perpetual ordinance.
19:11. He that toucheth the corpse of a man, and is therefore unclean
19:12. Shall be sprinkled with this water on the third day, and on the
seventh, and so shall be cleansed.  If he were not sprinkled on the
third day, he cannot be cleansed on the seventh.
19:13. Every one that toucheth the corpse of a man, and is not
sprinkled with this mixture, shall profane the tabernacle of the Lord,
and shall perish out of Israel:  because he was not sprinkled with the
water of expiation, he shall be unclean, and his uncleanness shall
remain upon him.
19:14. This is the law of a man that dieth in a tent:  All that go into
his tent and all the vessels that are there, shall be unclean seven
19:15. The vessel that hath no cover, nor binding over it, shall be
19:16. If any man in the field touch the corpse of a man that was
slain, or that died of himself, or his bone, or his grave, he shall be
unclean seven days.
19:17. And they shall take of the ashes of the burning and of the sin
offering, and shall pour living waters upon them into a vessel.
19:18. And a man that is clean shall dip hyssop in them, and shall
sprinkle therewith all the tent, and all the furniture, and the men
that are defiled with touching any such thing:
19:19. And in this manner he that is clean shall purify the unclean on
the third and on the seventh day.  And being expiated the seventh day,
he shall wash both himself and his garments, and be unclean until the
19:20. If any man be not expiated after this rite, his soul shall
perish out of the midst of the church:  because he hath profaned the
sanctuary of the Lord, and was not sprinkled with the water of
purification.
19:21. This precept shall be an ordinance for ever.  He also that
sprinkled the water, shall wash his garments.  Every one that shall
touch the waters of expiation, shall be unclean until the evening.
19:22. Whatsoever a person toucheth who is unclean, he shall make it
unclean:  and the person that toucheth any of these things, shall be
unclean until the evening.
Numbers Chapter 20
The death of Mary the sister of Moses.  The people murmur for want of
water:  God giveth it them from the rock.  The death of Aaron.
20:1. And the children of Israel, and all the multitude came into the
desert of Sin, in the first month:  and the people abode in Cades.  And
Mary died there, and was buried in the same place.
20:2. And the people wanting water, came together against Moses and
20:3. And making a sedition, they said:  Would God we had perished among
our brethren before the Lord.
20:4. Why have you brought out the church of the Lord into the
wilderness, that both we and our cattle should die?
20:5. Why have you made us come up out of Egypt, and have brought us
into this wretched place which cannot be sowed, nor bringeth forth
figs, nor vines, nor pomegranates, neither is there any water to drink?
20:6. And Moses and Aaron leaving the multitude, went into the
tabernacle of the covenant, and fell flat upon the ground, and cried to
the Lord, and said.  O Lord God, hear the cry of this people, and open
to them thy treasure, a fountain of living water, that being satisfied,
they may cease to murmur.  And the glory of the Lord appeared over them.
20:7. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
20:8. Take the rod, and assemble the people together, thou and Aaron
thy brother, and speak to the rock before them, and it shall yield
waters.  And when thou hast brought forth water out of the rock, all the
multitude and their cattle shall drink.
20:9. Moses therefore took the rod, which was before the Lord, as he
had commanded him,
20:10. And having gathered together the multitude before the rock, he
said to them:  Hear, ye rebellious and incredulous:  Can we bring you
forth water out of this rock?
20:11. And when Moses bad lifted up his hand, and struck the rock twice
with the rod, there came forth water in great abundance, so that the
people and their cattle drank,
The rock. . .This rock was a figure of Christ, and the water that issued
out from the rock, of his precious blood, the source of all our good.
20:12. And the Lord said to Moses and Aaron:  Because you have not
believed me, to sanctify me before the children of Israel, you shall
not bring these people into the land, which I will give them.
You have not believed, etc. . .The fault of Moses and Aaron, on this
occasion, was a certain diffidence and weakness of faith; not doubting
of God's power or veracity; but apprehending the unworthiness of that
rebellious and incredulous people, and therefore speaking with some
20:13. This is the Water of contradiction, where the children of Israel
strove with words against the Lord, and he was sanctified in them.
The Water of contradiction. . .Or strife.  Hebrew, Meribah.
20:14. In the mean time Moses sent messengers from Cades to the king of
Edom, to say:  Thus saith thy brother Israel:  Thou knowest all the
labour that hath come upon us:
20:15. In what manner our fathers went down into Egypt, and there we
dwelt a long time, and the Egyptians afflicted us and our fathers.
20:16. And how we cried to the Lord, and he heard us, and sent an
angel, who hath brought us out of Egypt.  Lo, we are now in the city of
Cades, which is in the uttermost of thy borders,
20:17. And we beseech thee that we may have leave to pass through thy
country.  We will not go through the fields, nor through the vineyards,
we will not drink the waters of thy wells, but we will go by the common
highway, neither turning aside to the right hand, nor to the left, till
we are past thy borders.
20:18. And Edom answered them:  Thou shalt not pass by me:  if thou dost
I will come out armed against thee.
20:19. And the children of Israel said:  We will go by the beaten way:
and if we and our cattle drink of thy waters, we will give thee what is
just:  there shall be no difficulty in the price, only let us pass
20:20. But he answered:  Thou shalt not pass.  And immediately he came
forth to meet them with an infinite multitude, and a strong hand,
20:21. Neither would he condescend to their desire to grant them
passage through his borders.  Wherefore Israel turned another way from
20:22. And when they had removed the camp from Cades, they came to
mount Hor, which is in the borders of the land of Edom:
20:23. Where the Lord spoke to Moses:
20:24. Let Aaron, saith he, go to his people:  for he shall not go into
the land which I have given the children of Israel, because he was
incredulous to my words, at the waters of contradiction.
20:25. Take Aaron and his son with him, and bring them up into mount
20:26. And when thou hast stripped the father of his vesture, thou
shalt vest therewith Eleazar his son:  Aaron shall be gathered to his
people, and die there.
20:27. Moses did as the Lord had commanded:  and they went up into mount
Hor before all the multitude.
20:28. And when he had stripped Aaron of his vestments, he vested
Eleazar his son with them.
20:29. And Aaron being dead in the top of the mountain, he came down
with Eleazar.
20:30. And all the multitude seeing that Aaron was dead, mourned for
him thirty days throughout all their families.
Numbers Chapter 21
King Arad is overcome.  The people murmur and are punished with fiery
serpents:  they are healed by the brazen serpent.  They conquer the kings
Sehon and Og.
21:1. And when king Arad the Chanaanite, who dwelt towards the south,
had heard this, to wit, that Israel was come by the way of the spies,
he fought against them, and overcoming them carried off their spoils.
21:2. But Israel binding himself by vow to the Lord, said:  If thou wilt
deliver thus people into my hand, I will utterly destroy their cities.
21:3. And the Lord heard the prayers of Israel, and delivered up the
Chanaanite, and they cut them off and destroyed their cities:  and they
called the name of that place Horma, that is to say, Anathema.
Anathema. . .That is, a thing devoted to utter destruction.
21:4. And they marched from mount Hor, by the way that leadeth to the
Red Sea, to compass the land of Edom.  And the people began to be weary
of their journey and labour:
21:5. And speaking against God and Moses, they said:  Why didst thou
bring us out of Egypt, to die in the wilderness?  There is no bread, nor
have we any waters:  our soul now loatheth this very light food.
Very light food. . .So they call the heavenly manna:  thus worldlings
loathe the things of heaven, for which they have no relish.
21:6. Wherefore the Lord sent among the people fiery serpents, which
bit them and killed many of them.
Fiery serpents. . .They are so called, because they that were bitten by
them were burnt with a violent heat.
21:7. Upon which they came to Moses, and said; We have sinned, because
we have spoken against the Lord and thee:  pray that he may take away
these serpents from us.  And Moses prayed for the people.
21:8. And the Lord said to him:  Make a brazen serpent, and set it up
for a sign:  whosoever being struck shall look on it, shall live.
21:9. Moses therefore made a brazen serpent, and set it up for a sign:
which when they that were bitten looked upon, they were healed.
A brazen serpent. . .This was a figure of Christ crucified, and of the
efficacy of a lively faith in him, against the bites of the hellish
serpent.  John 3.14.
21:10. And the children of Israel setting forwards camped in Oboth.
21:11. And departing thence they pitched their tents in Jeabarim, in
the wilderness, that faceth Moab toward the east.
21:12. And removing from thence, they came to the torrent Zared:
21:13. Which they left and encamped over against Arnon, which is in the
desert and standeth out on the borders of the Amorrhite.  For Arnon is
the border of Moab, dividing the Moabites and the Amorrhites.
21:14. Wherefore it is said in the book of the wars of the Lord:  As he
did in the Red Sea, so will he do in the streams of Arnon.
The book of the wars, etc. . .An ancient book, which, like several
others quoted in scripture, has been lost.
21:15. The rocks of the torrents were bowed down that they might rest
in Ar, and lie down in the borders of the Moabites.
21:16. When they went from that place, the well appeared whereof the
Lord said to Moses:  Gather the people together, and I will give them
21:17. Then Israel sung this song:  Let the well spring up.  They sung
21:18. The well, which the princes dug, and the chiefs of the people
prepared by the direction of the lawgiver, and with their staves.  And
they marched from the wilderness to Mathana.
21:19. From Mathana unto Nahaliel:  from Nahaliel unto Bamoth.
21:20. From Bamoth, is a valley in the country of Moab, to the top of
Phasga, which looked towards the desert.
21:21. And Israel sent messengers to Sehon king of the Amorrhites,
21:22. I beseech thee that I may have leave to pass through thy land:
we will not go aside into the fields or the vineyards, we will not
drink waters of the wells, we will go the king's highway, till we be
past thy borders.
21:23. And he would not grant that Israel should pass by his borders:
but rather gathering an army, went forth to meet them in the desert,
and came to Jasa and fought against them.
21:24. And he was slain by them with the edge of the sword, and they
possessed his land from the Arnon unto the Jeboc, and to the confines
of the children of Ammon:  for the borders of the Ammonites, were kept
with a strong garrison.
21:25. So Israel took all his cities, and dwelt in the cities of the
Amorrhite, to wit, in Hesebon, and in the villages thereof.
21:26. Hesebon was the city of Sehon the king of the Amorrhites, who
fought against the king of Moab:  and took all the land, that had been
of his dominion, as far as the Arnon.
21:27. Therefore it is said in the proverb:  Come into Hesebon, let the
city of Sehon be built and set up:
21:28. A fire is gone out of Hesebon, a flame from the city of Sehon,
and hath consumed Ar of the Moabites, and the inhabitants of the high
places of the Arnon.
21:29. Woe to thee Moab:  thou art undone, O people of Chamos.  He hath
given his sons to flight, and his daughters into captivity to Sehon the
king of the Amorrhites.
21:30. Their yoke is perished from Hesebon unto Dibon, they came weary
to Nophe, and unto Medaba.
21:31. So Israel dwelt in the land of the Amorrhite.
21:32. And Moses sent some to take a view of Jazer:  and they took the
villages of it, and conquered the inhabitants.
21:33. And they turned themselves, and went up by the way of Basan, and
Og the king of Basan came against them with all his people, to fight in
21:34. And the Lord said to Moses:  Fear him not, for I have delivered
him and all his people, and his country into thy hand:  and thou shalt
do to him as thou didst to Sehon the king of the Amorrhites, the
inhabitant of Hesebon.
21:35. So they slew him also with his sons, and all his people, not
letting any one escape, and they possessed his land.
Numbers Chapter 22
Balac, king of Moab, sendeth twice for Balaam to curse Israel.  In his
way Balaam is rebuked by an angel.
22:1. And they went forward and encamped in the plains of Moab, over
against where Jericho is situate beyond the Jordan.
22:2. And Balac the son of Sephor, seeing all that Israel had done to
the Amorrhite,
22:3. And that the Moabites were in great fear of him, and were not
able to sustain his assault,
22:4. He said to the elders of Madian:  So will this people destroy all
that dwell in our borders, as the ox is wont to eat the grass to the
very roots.  Now he was at that time king in Moab.
22:5. He sent therefore messengers to Balaam the son of Beor, a
soothsayer, who dwelt by the river of the land of the children of
Ammon, to call him, and to say:  Behold a people is come out of Egypt,
that hath covered the face of the earth, sitting over against me.
22:6. Come therefore, and curse this people, because it is mightier
than I:  if by any means I may beat them and drive them out of my land:
for I know that he whom thou shalt bless is blessed, and he whom thou
shalt curse is cursed.
22:7. And the ancients of Moab, and the elders of Madian, went with the
price of divination in their hands.  And where they were come to Balaam,
and had told him all the words of Balac:
22:8. He answered:  Tarry here this night and I will answer whatsoever
the Lord shall say to me.  And while they stayed with Balaam, God came
and said to him:
22:9. What mean these men that are with thee?
22:10. He answered:  Balac the son of Sephor king of the Moabites hath
22:11. Saying:  Behold a people that is come out of Egypt, hath covered
the face of the land:  come and curse them, if by any means I may fight
with them and drive them away.
22:12. And God said to Balaam:  Thou shalt not go with them, nor shalt
thou curse the people:  because it is blessed.
22:13. And he rose in the morning and said to the princes:  Go into your
country, because the Lord hath forbid me to come with you.
22:14. The princes returning, said to Balac:  Balaam would not come with
22:15. Then he sent many more and more noble than he had sent before:
22:16. Who, when they were come to Balaam, said:  Thus saith Balac the
son of Sephor, Delay not to come to me:
22:17. For I am ready to honour thee, and will give thee whatsoever
thou wilt:  come and curse this people.
22:18. Balaam answered:  If Balac would give me his house full of silver
and gold, I cannot alter the word of the Lord my God, to speak either
more or less.
22:19. I pray you to stay here this night also, that I may know what
the Lord will answer me once more.
To stay. . .His desiring them to stay, after he had been fully informed
already that it was not God's will he should go, came from the
inclination he had to gratify Balac, for the sake of worldly gain.  And
this perverse disposition God punished by permitting him to go (though
not to curse the people as he would willingly have done), and suffering
him to fall still deeper and deeper into sin, till he came at last to
give that abominable counsel against the people of God, which ended in
his own destruction.  So sad a thing it is to indulge a passion for
22:20. God therefore came to Balaam in the night, and said to him:  If
these men be come to call thee, arise and go with them:  yet so, that
thou do what I shall command thee.
22:21. Balaam arose in the morning, and saddling his ass went with
22:22. And God was angry.  And an angel of the Lord stood in the way
against Balaam, who sat on the ass, and had two servants with him.
22:23. The ass seeing the angel standing in the way, with a drawn
sword, turned herself out of the way, and went into the field.  And when
Balaam beat her, and had a mind to bring her again to the way,
22:24. The angel stood in a narrow place between two walls, wherewith
the vineyards were enclosed.
22:25. And the ass seeing him, thrust herself close to the wall, and
bruised the foot of the rider.  But he beat her again:
22:26. And nevertheless the angel going on to a narrow place, where
there was no way to turn aside either to the right hand or to the left,
stood to meet him.
22:27. And when the ass saw the angel standing, she fell under the feet
of the rider:  who being angry beat her sides more vehemently with a
22:28. And the Lord opened the mouth of the ass, and she said:  What
have I done to thee?  Why strikest thou me, lo, now this third time?
Opened the mouth, etc. . .The angel moved the tongue of the ass, to
utter these speeches, to rebuke, by the mouth of a brute beast, the
brutal fury and folly of Balaam.
22:29. Balaam answered:  Because thou hast deserved it, and hast served
me ill:  I would I had a sword that I might kill thee.
22:30. The ass said:  Am not I thy beast, on which thou hast been always
accustomed to ride until this present day?  tell me if I ever did the
like thing to thee.  But he said:  Never.
22:31. Forthwith the Lord opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the
angel standing in the way with a drawn sword, and he worshipped him
falling flat on the ground.
22:32. And the angel said to him:  Why beatest thou thy ass these three
times?  I am come to withstand thee, because thy way is perverse, and
contrary to me:
Perverse. . .Because thy inclinations are wicked in being willing for
the sake of gain to curse the people of whom I am the guardian.
22:33. And unless the ass had turned out of the way, giving place to me
who stood against thee, I had slain thee, and she should have lived.
22:34. Balaam said:  I have sinned, not knowing that thou didst stand
against me:  and now if it displease thee that I go, I will return.
22:35. The angel said:  Go with these men, and see thou speak no other
thing than what I shall command thee.  He went therefore with the
22:36. And when Balac heard it he came forth to meet him in a town of
the Moabites, that is situate in the uttermost borders of Arnon.
22:37. And he said to Balaam:  I sent messengers to call thee, why didst
thou not come immediately to me?  was it because I am not able to reward
22:38. He answered him:  Lo, here I am:  shall I have power to speak any
other thing but that which God shall put in my mouth?
22:39. So they went on together, and came into a city, that was in the
uttermost borders of his kingdom.
22:40. And when Balac had killed oxen and sheep, he sent presents to
Balaam, and to the princes that were with him.
22:41. And when morning was come, he brought him to the high places of
Baal, and he beheld the uttermost part of the people.
Numbers Chapter 23
Balaam, instead of cursing Israel, is obliged to bless them, and
prophesy good things of them.
23:1. And Balaam said to Balac:  Build me here seven altars, and prepare
as many calves, and the same number of rams.
23:2. And when he had done according to the word of Balaam, they laid
together a calf and a ram upon every altar.
23:3. And Balaam said to Balac:  Stand a while by thy burnt offering,
until I go, to see if perhaps the Lord will meet me, and whatsoever he
shall command, I will speak to thee.
23:4. And when he was gone with speed, God met him.  And Balaam speaking
to him, said:  I have erected seven altars, and have laid on everyone a
calf and a ram.
23:5. And the Lord put the word in his mouth, and said:  Return to
Balac, and thus shalt thou speak.
23:6. Returning he found Balac standing by his burnt offering, with all
the princes of the Moabites:
23:7. And taking up his parable, he said:  Balac king of the Moabites
hath brought me from Aram, from the mountains of the east:  Come, said
he, and curse Jacob:  make haste and detest Israel.
23:8. How shall I curse him, whom God hath not cursed?  By what means
should I detest him, whom the Lord detesteth not?
23:9. I shall see him from the tops of the rocks, and shall consider
him from the hills.  This people shall dwell alone, and shall not be
reckoned among the nations.
23:10. Who can count the dust of Jacob, and know the number of the
stock of Israel?  Let my soul die the death of the just, and my last end
be like to them.
23:11. And Balac said to Balaam:  What is this that thou dost?  I sent
for thee to curse my enemies:  and thou contrariwise blessest them.
23:12. He answered him:  Can I speak any thing else but what the Lord
23:13. Balac therefore said:  Come with me to another place from whence
thou mayest see part of Israel, and canst not see them all:  curse them
from thence.
23:14. And when he had brought him to a high place, upon the top of
mount Phasga, Balaam built seven altars, and laying on every one a calf
23:15. He said to Balac:  Stand here by thy burnt offering while I go to
23:16. And when the Lord had met him, and had put the word in his
mouth, he said:  Return to Balac, and thus shalt thou say to him.
23:17. Returning he found him standing by his burnt sacrifice, and the
princes of the Moabites with him.  And Balac said to him:  What hath the
Lord spoken?
23:18. But he taking up his parable, said:  Stand, O Balac, and give
ear:  hear, thou son of Sephor:
23:19. God is not a man, that he should lie, nor is the son of man,
that he should be changed.  Hath he said then, and will he not do?  hath
he spoken, and will he not fulfil?
23:20. I was brought to bless, the blessing I am not able to hinder.
23:21. There is no idol in Jacob, neither is there an image god to be
seen in Israel.  The Lord his God is with him, and the sound of the
victory of the king in him.
23:22. God hath brought him out of Egypt, whose strength is like to the
23:23. There is no soothsaying in Jacob, nor divination in Israel.  In
their times it shall be told to Jacob and to Israel what God hath
23:24. Behold the people shall rise up as a lioness, and shall lift
itself up as a lion:  it shall not lie down till it devour the prey, and
drink the blood of the slain.
23:25. And Balac said to Balaam:  Neither curse, nor bless him.
23:26. And he said:  Did I not tell thee, that whatsoever God should
command me, that I would do?
23:27. And Balac said to him:  Come and I will bring thee to another
place; if peradventure it please God that thou mayest curse them from
23:28. And when he had brought him upon the top of mount Phogor, which
looketh towards the wilderness,
23:29. Balaam said to him:  Build me here seven altars, and prepare as
many calves, and the same number of rams.
23:30. Balac did as Balaam had said:  and he laid on every altar, a calf
Numbers Chapter 24
Balaam still continues to prophesy good things in favour of Israel.
24:1. And when Balaam saw that it pleased the Lord that he should bless
Israel, he went not as he had gone before, to seek divination:  but
setting his face towards the desert,
24:2. And lifting up his eyes, he saw Israel abiding in their tents by
their tribes:  and the spirit of God rushing upon him,
24:3. He took up his parable and said:  Balaam the son of Beor hath
said:  The man hath said, whose eye is stopped up:
24:4. The bearer of the words of God hath said, he that hath beheld the
vision of the Almighty, he that falleth, and so his eyes are opened:
24:5. How beautiful are thy tabernacles O Jacob, and thy tents, O
24:6. As woody valleys, as watered gardens near the rivers, as
tabernacles which the Lord hath pitched, as cedars by the waterside.
24:7. Water shall flow out of his bucket, and his seed shall be in many
waters.  For Agag his king shall be removed, and his kingdom shall be
24:8. God hath brought him out of Egypt, whose strength is like to the
rhinoceros.  They shall devour the nations that are his enemies, and
break their bones, and pierce them with arrows.
24:9. Lying down he hath slept as a lion, and as a lioness, whom none
shall dare to rouse.  He that blesseth thee, shall also himself be
blessed:  he that curseth thee shall be reckoned accursed.
24:10. And Balac being angry against Balaam, clapped his hands together
and said:  I called thee to curse my enemies, and thou on the contrary
hast blessed them three times.
24:11. Return to thy place.  I had determined indeed greatly to honour
thee, but the Lord hath deprived thee of the honour designed for thee.
24:12. Balaam made answer to Balac:  Did I not say to thy messengers,
whom thou sentest to me:
24:13. If Balac would give me his house full of silver and gold, I
cannot go beyond the word of the Lord my God, to utter any thing of my
own head either good or evil:  but whatsoever the Lord shall say, that I
24:14. But yet going to my people, I will give thee counsel, what this
people shall do to thy people in the latter days.
24:15. Therefore taking up his parable, again he said:  Balaam the son
of Beor hath said:  The man whose eye is stopped up, hath said:
24:16. The hearer of the words of God hath said, who knoweth the
doctrine of the Highest, and seeth the visions of the Almighty, who
falling hath his eyes opened:
24:17. I shall see him, but not now:  I shall behold him, but not near.
A STAR SHALL RISE out of Jacob and a sceptre shall spring up from
Israel:  and shall strike the chiefs of Moab, and shall waste all the
children of Seth
24:18. And he shall possess Idumea:  the inheritance of Seir shall come
to their enemies, but Israel shall do manfully.
24:19. Out of Jacob shall he come that shall rule, and shall destroy
the remains of the city.
24:20. And when he saw Amalec, he took up his parable, and said:  Amalec
the beginning of nations, whose latter ends shall be destroyed.
24:21. He saw also the Cinite:  and took up his parable, and said:  Thy
habitation indeed is strong:  but though thou build thy nest in a rock,
24:22. And thou be chosen of the stock of Cin, how long shalt thou be
able to continue?  For Assur shall take thee captive.
24:23. And taking up his parable, again he said:  Alas, who shall live
when God shall do these things?
24:24. They shall come in galleys from Italy, they shall overcome the
Assyrians, and shall waste the Hebrews, and at the last they themselves
also shall perish.
24:25. And Balaam rose, and returned to his place:  Balac also returned
the way that he came.
Numbers Chapter 25
The people fall into fornication and idolatry; for which twenty-four
thousand are slain.  The zeal of Phinees.
25:1. And Israel at that time abode in Settim, and the people committed
fornication with the daughters of Moab,
25:2. Who called them to their sacrifices.  And they ate of them, and
adored their gods.
25:3. And Israel was initiated to Beelphegor:  upon which the Lord being
Initiated to Beelphegor. . .That is, they took to the worship of
Beelphegor, an obscene idol of the Moabites, and were consecrated, as
it were, to him.
25:4. Said to Moses:  Take all the princes of the people, and hang them
up on gibbets against the sun:  that my fury may be turned away from
25:5. And Moses said to the judges of Israel:  Let every man kill his
neighbours, that have been initiated to Beelphegor.
25:6. And behold one of the children of Israel went in before his
brethren to a harlot of Madian, in the sight of Moses and of all the
children of Israel, who were weeping before the door of the tabernacle.
25:7. And when Phinees the son of Eleazar the son of Aaron the priest
saw it, he rose up from the midst of the multitude, and taking a
25:8. Went in after the Israelite into the brothel house, and thrust
both of them through together, to wit, the man and the woman in the
genital parts.  And the scourge ceased from the children of Israel.
25:9. And there were slain four and twenty thousand men.
25:10. And the Lord said to Moses:
25:11. Phinees the son of Eleazar the son of Aaron the priest, hath
turned away my wrath from the children of Israel:  because he was moved
with my zeal against them, that I myself might not destroy the children
of Israel in my zeal.
25:12. Therefore say to him:  behold I give him the peace of my
25:13. And the covenant of the priesthood for ever shall be both to him
and his seed, because he hath been zealous for his God, and hath made
atonement for the wickedness of the children of Israel.
25:14. And the name of the Israelite, that was slain with the woman of
Madian, was Zambri the son of Salu, a prince of the kindred and tribe
25:15. And the Madianite woman, that was slain with him, was called
Cozbi the daughter of Sur, a most noble prince among the Madianites.
25:16. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
25:17. Let the Madianites find you their enemies, and slay you them:
25:18. Because they also have acted like enemies against you, and have
guilefully deceived you by the idol Phogor, and Cozbi their sister, a
daughter of a prince of Madian, who was slain in the day of the plague
for the sacrilege of Phogor.
Numbers Chapter 26
The people are again numbered by their tribes and families.
26:1. After the blood of the guilty was shed, the Lord said to Moses
and to Eleazar the son of Aaron, the priest:
26:2. Number the whole sum of the children of Israel from twenty years
old and upward, by their houses and kindreds, all that are able to go
forth to war.
26:3. Moses therefore and Eleazar the priest, being in the plains of
Moab upon the Jordan over against Jericho, spoke to them that were
26:4. From twenty years old and upward, as the Lord had commanded:  and
this is the number of them:
26:5. Ruben the firstborn of Israel.  His sons were Henoch, of whom is
the family of the Henochites:  and Phallu, of whom is the family of the
26:6. And Hesron, of whom is the family of the Hesronites:  and Charmi,
of whom is the family of the Charmites.
26:7. These are the families of the stock of Ruben:  whose number was
found to be forty-three thousand seven hundred and thirty.
26:8. The son of Phallu was Eliab.
26:9. His sons, were Namuel and Dathan and Abiron.  These are Dathan and
Abiron the princes of the people, that rose against Moses and Aaron in
the sedition of Core, when they rebelled against the Lord:
26:10. And the earth opening her mouth swallowed up Core, many others
dying, when the fire burned two hundred and fifty men.  And there was a
great miracle wrought,
26:11. That when Core perished, his sons did not perish.
26:12. The sons of Simeon by their kindreds:  Namuel, of him is the
family of the Namuelites:  Jamin, of him is the family of the Jaminites:
Jachim, of him is the family of the Jachimites:
26:13. Zare, of him is the family of the Zarites:  Saul, of him is the
family of the Saulites.
26:14. These are the families of the stock of Simeon, of which the
whole number was twenty-two thousand two hundred.
26:15. The sons of Gad by their kindreds:  Sephon, of him is the family
of the Sephonites:  Aggi, of him is the family of the Aggites:  Suni, of
him is the family of the Sunites:
26:16. Ozni, of him is the family of the Oznites:  Her, of him is the
family of the Herites:
26:17. Arod, of him is the family of the Arodites:  Ariel, of him is the
family of the Arielites.
26:18. These are the families of Gad, of which the whole number was
forty thousand five hundred.
26:19. The sons of Juda, Her and Onan, who both died in the land of
26:20. And the sons of Juda by their kindreds were:  Sela, of whom is
the family of the Selaites:  Phares, of whom is the family of the
Pharesites:  Zare, of whom is the family of the Zarites.
26:21. Moreover the sons of Phares were:  Hesron, of whom is the family
of the Hesronites:  and Hamul, of whom is the family of the Hamulites.
26:22. These are the families of Juda, of which the whole number was
seventy-six thousand five hundred.
26:23. The sons of Issachar, by their kindreds:  Thola of whom is the
family of the Tholaites:  Phua, of whom is the family of the Phuaites:
26:24. Jasub, of whom is the family of the Jasubites:  Semran, of whom
is the family of the Semranites.
26:25. These are the kindreds of Issachar, whose number was sixty-four
thousand three hundred.
26:26. The sons of Zabulon by their kindreds:  Sared, of whom is the
family of the Saredites:  Elon, of whom is the family of the Elonites:
Jalel, of whom is the family of the Jalelites.
26:27. These are the kindreds of Zabulon, whose number was sixty
thousand five hundred.
26:28. The sons of Joseph by their kindred, Manasses and Ephraim.
26:29. Of Manasses was born Machir, of whom is the family of the
Machirites.  Machir begot Galaad, of whom is the family of the
26:30. Galaad had sons:  Jezer, of whom is the family of the Jezerites:
and Helec, of whom is the family of the Helecites:
26:31. And Asriel, of whom is the family of the Asrielites:  and Sechem,
of whom is the family of the Sechemites:
26:32. And Semida, of whom is the family of the Semidaites:  and Hepher,
of whom is the family of the Hepherites.
26:33. And Hepher was the father of Salphaad, who had no sons, but only
daughters, whose names are these:  Maala, and Noa, and Hegla, and
Melcha, and Thersa.
26:34. These are the families of Manasses, and the number of them
fifty-two thousand seven hundred.
26:35. And the sons of Ephraim by their kindreds were these:  Suthala,
of whom is the family of the Suthalaites:  Becher, of whom is the family
of the Becherites:  Thehen, of whom is the family of the Thehenites.
26:36. Now the son of Suthala was Heran, of whom is the family of the
26:37. These are the kindreds of the sons of Ephraim:  whose number was
thirty-two thousand five hundred.
26:38. These are the sons of Joseph by their families.  The sons of
Benjamin in their kindreds:  Bela, of whom is the family of the
Belaites:  Asbel, of whom is the family of the Asbelites:  Ahiram, of
whom is the family of the Ahiramites:
26:39. Supham, of whom is the family of the Suphamites:  Hupham, of whom
is the family of the Huphamites.
26:40. The sons of Bela:  Hered, and Noeman.  Of Hered, is the family of
the Heredites:  of Noeman, the family of the Noemanites.
26:41. These are the sons of Benjamin by their kindreds, whose number
was forty-five thousand six hundred.
26:42. The sons of Dan by their kindreds:  Suham, of whom is the family
of the Suhamites:  These are the kindreds of Dan by their families.
26:43. All were Suhamites, whose number was sixty-four thousand four
26:44. The sons of Aser by their kindreds:  Jemna, of whom is the family
of the Jemnaites:  Jessui, of whom is the family of the Jessuites:  Brie,
of whom is the family of the Brieites.
26:45. The sons of Brie:  Heber, of whom is the family of the Heberites:
and Melchiel, of whom is the family of the Melchielites.
26:46. And the name of the daughter of Aser, was Sara.
26:47. These are the kindreds of the sons of Aser, and their number
fifty-three thousand four hundred.
26:48. The sons of Nephtali by their kindreds:  Jesiel, of whom is the
family of the Jesielites:  Guni, of whom is the family of the Gunites:
26:49. Jeser, of whom is the family of the Jeserites:  Sellem, of whom
is the family of the Sellemites.
26:50. These are the kindreds of the sons of Nephtali by their
families:  whose number was forty-five thousand four hundred.
26:51. This is the sum of the children of Israel, that were reckoned
up, six hundred and one thousand seven hundred and thirty.
26:52. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
26:53. To these shall the land be divided for their possessions
according to the number of names.
26:54. To the greater number thou shalt give a greater portion, and to
the fewer a less:  to every one, as they have now been reckoned up,
shall a possession be delivered:
26:55. Yet so that by lot the land be divided to the tribe and
26:56. Whatsoever shall fall by lot, that shall be taken by the more,
or the fewer.
26:57. This also is the number of the sons of Levi by their families:
Gerson, of whom is the family of the Gersonites:  Caath, of whom is the
family of the Caathites:  Merari, of whom is the family of the
26:58. These are the families of Levi:  The family of Lobni, the family
of Hebroni, the family of Core.  Now Caath begot Amram:
26:59. Who had to wife Jochabed the daughter of Levi, who was born to
him in Egypt.  She bore to her husband Amram sons, Aaron and Moses, and
Mary their sister.
26:60. Of Aaron were born Nadab and Abiu, and Eleazar and Ithamar:
26:61. Of whom Nadab and Abiu died, when they had offered the strange
fire before the Lord.
26:62. And all that were numbered, were twenty-three thousand males
from one month old and upward:  for they were not reckoned up among the
children of Israel, neither was a possession given to them with the
26:63. This is the number of the children of Israel, that were enrolled
by Moses and Eleazar the priest, in the plains of Moab upon the Jordan,
over against Jericho.
26:64. Among whom there was not one of them that were numbered before
by Moses and Aaron in the desert of Sinai.
26:65. For the Lord had foretold that they should die in the
wilderness.  And none remained of them, but Caleb the son of Jephone,
and Josue the son of Nun.
Numbers Chapter 27
The law of inheritance.  Josue is appointed to succeed Moses.
27:1. Then came the daughters of Salphaad, the son of Hepher, the son
of Galaad, the son of Machir, the son of Manasses, who was the son of
Joseph:  and their names are Maala, and Noa, and Hegla, and Melcha, and
27:2. And they stood before Moses and Eleazar the priest, and all the
princes of the people at the door of the tabernacle of the covenant,
27:3. Our father died in the desert, and was not in the sedition, that
was raised against the Lord under Core, but he died in his own sin:  and
he had no male children.  Why is his name taken away out of his family,
because he had no son?  Give us a possession among the kinsmen of our
27:4. And Moses referred their cause to the judgment of the Lord.
27:5. And the Lord said to him:
27:6. The daughters of Salphaad demand a just thing:  Give them a
possession among their father's kindred, and let them succeed him in
his inheritance.
27:7. And to the children of Israel thou shalt speak these things:
27:8. When a man dieth without a son, his inheritance shall pass to his
27:9. If he have no daughter, his brethren shall succeed him.
27:10. And if he have no brethren, you shall give the inheritance to
his father's brethren.
27:11. But if he have no uncles by the father, the inheritance shall be
given to them that are the next akin.  And this shall be to the children
of Israel sacred by a perpetual law, as the Lord hath commanded Moses.
27:12. The Lord also said to Moses:  Go up into this mountain Abarim,
and view from thence the land which I will give to the children of
27:13. And when thou shalt have seen it, thou also shalt go to thy
people, as thy brother Aaron is gone:
27:14. Because you offended me in the desert of Sin in the
contradiction of the multitude, neither would you sanctify me before
them at the waters.  These are the waters of contradiction in Cades of
the desert of Sin.
27:15. And Moses answered him:
27:16. May the Lord the God of the spirits of all flesh provide a man,
that may be over this multitude:
27:17. And may go out and in before them, and may lead them out, or
bring them in:  lest the people of the Lord be as sheep without a
27:18. And the Lord said to him:  take Josue the son of Nun, a man in
whom is the Spirit, and put thy hand upon him.
27:19. And he shall stand before Eleazar the priest and all the
27:20. And thou shalt give him precepts in the sight of all, and part
of thy glory, that all the congregation of the children of Israel may
27:21. If any thing be to be done, Eleazar the priest shall consult the
Lord for him.  He and all the children of Israel with him, and the rest
of the multitude shall go out and go in at his word.
27:22. Moses did as the Lord had commanded.  And, when he had taken
Josue, he set him before Eleazar the priest, and all the assembly of
27:23. And laying his hands on his head, he repeated all things that
the Lord had commanded.
Numbers Chapter 28
Sacrifices are appointed as well for every day as for sabbaths, and
other festivals.
28:1. The Lord also said to Moses:
28:2. Command the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  Offer
ye my oblation and my bread, and burnt sacrifice of most sweet odour,
in their due seasons.
28:3. These are the sacrifices which you shall offer:  Two lambs of a
year old without blemish every day for the perpetual holocaust:
28:4. One you shall offer in the mornings, and the other in the
28:5. And the tenth part of an ephi of flour, which shall be tempered
with the, purest oil, of the measure of the fourth part of a hin.
28:6. It is the continual holocaust which you offered in mount Sinai
for a most sweet odour of a sacrifice by fire to the Lord.
28:7. And for a libation you shall offer of wine the fourth part of a
hin for every lamb in the sanctuary of the Lord.
28:8. And you shall offer the other lamb in like manner in the evening
according to all the rites of the morning sacrifice, and of the
libations thereof, an oblation of most sweet odour to the Lord.
28:9. And on the sabbath day you shall offer two lambs of a year old
without blemish, and two tenths of flour tempered with oil in
sacrifice, and the libations,
28:10. Which regularly are poured out every sabbath for the perpetual
28:11. And on the first day of the month you shall offer a holocaust to
the Lord, two calves of the herd, one ram, and seven lambs of a year
old, without blemish,
28:12. And three tenths of flour tempered with oil in sacrifice for
every calf:  and two tenths of flour tempered with oil for every ram:
28:13. And the tenth of a tenth of flour tempered with oil in sacrifice
for every lamb.  It is a holocaust of most sweet odour and an offering
by fire to the Lord.
28:14. And these shall be the libations of wine that are to be poured
out for every victim:  Half a hin for every calf, a third for a ram, and
a fourth for a lamb.  This shall be the holocaust for every month, as
they succeed one another in the course of the year.
28:15. A buck goat also shall be offered to the Lord for a sin offering
over and above the perpetual holocaust with its libations.
28:16. And in the first month, on the four tenth day of the month,
shall be the phase of the Lord,
28:17. And on the fifteenth day the solemn feast:  seven days shall they
eat unleavened bread.
28:18. And the first day of them shall be venerable and holy:  you shall
not do any servile work therein.
28:19. And you shall offer a burnt sacrifice a holocaust to the Lord,
two calves of the herd, one ram, seven lambs of a year old, without
28:20. And for the sacrifice of every one three tenths of flour which
shall be tempered with oil to every calf, and two tenths to every ram,
28:21. And the tenth of a tenth, to every lamb, that is to say, to all
the seven lambs:
28:22. And one buck goat for sin, to make atonement for you,
28:23. Besides the morning holocaust which you shall always offer.
28:24. So shall you do every day of the seven days for the food of the
fire, and for a most sweet odour to the Lord, which shall rise from the
holocaust, and from the libations of each.
28:25. The seventh day also shall be most solemn and holy unto you, you
shall do no servile work therein.
28:26. The day also of firstfruits, when after the weeks are
accomplished, you shall offer new fruits to the Lord, shall be
venerable and holy:  you shall do no servile work therein.
28:27. And you shall offer a holocaust for a most sweet odour to the
Lord, two calves of the herd, one ram, and seven lambs of a year old,
without blemish:
28:28. And in the sacrifices of them three tenths of flour tempered
with oil to every calf, two to every ram,
28:29. The tenth of a tenth to every lamb, which in all are seven
lambs:  a buck goat also,
28:30. Which is slain for expiation:  besides the perpetual holocaust
and the libations thereof.
28:31. You shall offer them all without blemish with their libations.
Numbers Chapter 29
Sacrifices for the festivals of the seventh month.
29:1. The first day also of the seventh month shall be venerable and
holy unto you; you shall do no servile work therein, because it is the
day of the sounding and of trumpets.
29:2. And you shall offer a holocaust for a most sweet odour to the
Lord, one calf of the herd, one ram and seven lambs of a year old,
without blemish.
29:3. And for their sacrifices, three tenths of flour tempered with oil
to every calf, two tenths to a ram,
29:4. One tenth to a lamb, which in all are seven lambs:
29:5. And a buck goat for sin, which is offered for the expiation of
29:6. Besides the holocaust of the first day of the month with the
sacrifices thereof, and the perpetual holocaust with the accustomed
libations.  With the same ceremonies you shall offer a burnt sacrifice
for a most sweet odour to the Lord.
29:7. The tenth day also of this seventh month shall be holy and
venerable unto you, and you shall afflict your souls; you shall do no
servile work therein.
29:8. And you shall offer a holocaust to the Lord for a most sweet
odour, one calf of the herd, one ram, and seven lambs of a year old,
without blemish:
29:9. And for their sacrifices, three tenths of flour tempered with oil
to every calf, two tenths to a ram,
29:10. The tenth of a tenth to every lamb, which are in all seven
29:11. And a buck goat for sin, besides the things that are wont to be
offered for sin, for expiation, and for the perpetual holocaust with
their sacrifice and libations.
29:12. And on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, which shall be
unto you holy and venerable, you shall do no servile work, but shall
celebrate a solemnity to the Lord seven days.
29:13. And you shall offer a holocaust for a most sweet odour to the
Lord, thirteen calves of the herd, two rams, and fourteen lambs of a
year old, without blemish:
29:14. And for their libations three tenths of flour tempered with oil
to every calf, being in all thirteen calves:  and two tenths to each
ram, being two rams,
29:15. And the tenth of a tenth to every lamb, being in all fourteen
29:16. And a buck goat for sin, besides the perpetual holocaust, and
the sacrifice and the libation thereof.
29:17. On the second day you shall offer twelve calves of the herd, two
rams and fourteen lambs of a year old, without blemish:
29:18. And the sacrifices and the libations for every one, for the
calves and for the rams and for the lambs you shall duly celebrate:
29:19. And a buck goat for a sin offering besides the perpetual
holocaust, and the sacrifice and the libation thereof.
29:20. The third day you shall offer eleven calves, two rams, and
fourteen lambs of a year old, without blemish:
29:21. And the sacrifices and the libations of every one for the calves
and for the rams and for the lambs you shall offer according to the
29:22. And a buck goat for sin, besides the perpetual holocaust, and
the sacrifice, and the libation thereof.
29:23. The fourth day you shall offer ten calves, two rams, and
fourteen lambs of a year old, without blemish:
29:24. And the sacrifices and the libations of every one for the calves
and for the rams and for the lambs you shall celebrate in right manner:
29:25. And a buck goat for sin, besides the perpetual holocaust, and
the sacrifice and the libation thereof.
29:26. The fifth day you shall offer nine calves, two rams, and
fourteen lambs of a year old, without blemish:
29:27. And the sacrifices and the libations of every one for the calves
and for the rams and for the lambs you shall celebrate according to the
29:28. And a buck goat for sin, besides the perpetual holocaust, and
the sacrifice and the libation thereof.
29:29. The sixth day you shall offer eight calves, two rams, and
fourteen lambs of a year old, without blemish:
29:30. And the sacrifices and the libations of every one for the calves
and for the rams and for the lambs you shall celebrate according to the
29:31. And a buck goat for sin, besides the perpetual holocaust, and
the sacrifice and the libation thereof.
29:32. The seventh day you shall offer seven calves and two rams, and
fourteen lambs of a year old, without blemish:
29:33. And the sacrifices and the libations of every one for the calves
and for the rams and for the lambs you shall celebrate according to the
29:34. And a buck goat for sin, besides the perpetual holocaust, and
the sacrifice and the libation thereof.
29:35. On the eighth day, which is most solemn, you shall do no servile
29:36. But you shall offer a holocaust for a most sweet odour to the
Lord, one calf, one ram, and seven lambs of a year old, without
29:37. And the sacrifices and the libations of every one for the calves
and for the rams and for the lambs you shall celebrate according to the
29:38. And a buck goat for sin, besides the perpetual holocaust, and
the sacrifice and the libation thereof.
29:39. These things shall you offer to the Lord in your solemnities:
besides your vows and voluntary oblations for holocaust, for sacrifice,
for libation, and for victims of peace offerings.
Numbers Chapter 30
Of vows and oaths:  and their obligation.
30:1. And Moses told the children of Israel all that the Lord had
commanded him:
30:2. And he said to the princes of the tribes of the children of
Israel:  This is the word that the Lord hath commanded:
30:3. If any man make a vow to the Lord, or bind himself by an oath:  he
shall not make his word void but shall fulfil all that he promised.
30:4. If a woman vow any thing, and bind herself by an oath, being in
her father's house, and but yet a girl in age:  if her father knew the
vow that she hath promised, and the oath wherewith she hath bound her
soul, and held his peace, she shall be bound by the vow:
30:5. Whatsoever she promised and swore, she shall fulfil in deed.
30:6. But if her father, immediately as soon as he heard it, gainsaid
it, both her vows and her oaths shall be void, neither shall she be
bound to what she promised, because her father hath gainsaid it.
30:7. If she have a husband, and shall vow any thing, and the word once
going out of her mouth shall bind her soul by an oath,
30:8. The day that her husband shall hear it, and not gainsay it, she
shall be bound to the vow, and shall give whatsoever she promised.
30:9. But if as soon as he heareth he gainsay it, and make her promises
and the words wherewith she had bound her soul of no effect:  the Lord
will forgive her.
30:10. The widow, and she that is divorced, shall fulfil whatsoever
30:11. If the wife in the house of her husband, hath bound herself by
vow and by oath,
30:12. If her husband hear, and hold his peace, and doth not disallow
the promise, she shall accomplish whatsoever she had promised.
30:13. But if forthwith he gainsay it, she shall not be bound by the
promise:  because her husband gainsaid it, and the Lord will be merciful
30:14. If she vow and bind herself by oath, to afflict her soul by
fasting, or abstinence from other things, it shall depend on the will
of her husband, whether she shall do it, or not do it.
30:15. But if the husband hearing it hold his peace, and defer the
declaring his mind till another day:  whatsoever she had vowed and
promised, she shall fulfil:  because immediately as he heard it, he held
30:16. But if he gainsay it after that he knew it, he shall bear her
30:17. These are the laws which the Lord appointed to Moses between the
husband and the wife, between the father and the daughter that is as
yet but a girl in age, or that abideth in her father's house.
Numbers Chapter 31
The Madianites are slain for having drawn the people of Israel into
sin.  The dividing of the booty.
31:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
31:2. Revenge first the children of Israel on the Madianites, and so
thou shalt be gathered to thy people.
31:3. And Moses forthwith said:  Arm of you men to fight, who may take
the revenge of the Lord on the Madianites.
31:4. Let a thousand men be chosen out of every tribe of Israel to be
sent to the war.
31:5. And they gave a thousand of every tribe, that is to say, twelve
thousand men well appointed for battle.
31:6. And Moses sent them with Phinees the son of Eleazar the priest,
and he delivered to him the holy vessels, and the trumpets to sound.
31:7. And when they had fought against the Madianites and had overcome
them, they slew all the men.
31:8. And their kings Evi, and Recem, and Sur, and Hur, and Rebe, five
princes of the nation:  Balaam also the son of Beor they killed with the
31:9. And they took their women, and their children captives, and all
their cattle, and all their goods:  and all their possessions they
31:10. And all their cities, and their villages, and castles, they
31:11. And they carried away the booty, and all that they had taken
both of men and of beasts.
31:12. And they brought them to Moses, and Eleazar the priest, and to
all the multitude of the children of Israel.  But the rest of the things
for use they carried to the camp on the plains of Moab, beside the
Jordan over against Jericho.
31:13. And Moses and Eleazar the priest and all the princes of the
synagogue went forth to meet them without the camp.
31:14. And Moses being angry with the chief officers of the army, the
tribunes, and the centurions that were come from the battle,
31:15. Said:  Why have you saved the women?
31:16. Are not these they, that deceived the children of Israel by the
counsel of Balaam, and made you transgress against the Lord by the sin
of Phogor, for which also the people was punished?
The sin of Phogor. . .The sin committed in the worship of Beelphegor.
31:17. Therefore kill all that are of the male sex, even of the
children:  and put to death the women, that have carnally known men.
Of children. . .Women and children, ordinarily speaking, were not to be
killed in war, Deut. 20.14.  But the great Lord of life and death was
pleased to order it otherwise in the present case, in detestation of
the wickedness of this people, who by the counsel of Balaam, had sent
their women among the Israelites on purpose to draw them from God.
31:18. But the girls, and all the women that are virgins save for
31:19. And stay without the camp seven days.  He that hath killed a man,
or touched one that is killed, shall be purified the third day and the
seventh day.
31:20. And of all the spoil, every garment, or vessel, or any thing
made for use, of the skins, or hair of goats, or of wood, shall be
31:21. Eleazar also the priest spoke to the men of the army, that had
fought, in this manner:  This is the ordinance of the law, which the
Lord hath commanded Moses:
31:22. Gold, and silver, and brass, and iron, and lead, and tin,
31:23. And all that may pass through the fire, shall be purified by
fire, but whatsoever cannot abide the fire, shall be sanctified with
the water of expiation:
31:24. And you shall wash your garments the seventh day, and being
purified, you shall afterwards enter into the camp.
31:25. And the Lord said to Moses:
31:26. Take the sum of the things that were taken both of man and
beast, thou and Eleazar the priest and the princes of the multitude:
31:27. And thou shalt divide the spoil equally, between them that
fought and went out to the war, and between the rest of the multitude.
31:28. And thou shalt separate a portion to the Lord from them that
fought and were in the battle, one soul of five hundred as well of
persons as of oxen and asses and sheep.
31:29. And thou shalt give it to Eleazar the priest, because they are
the firstfruits of the Lord.
31:30. Out of the moiety also of the children of Israel thou shalt take
the fiftieth head of persons, and of oxen, and asses, and sheep, and of
all beasts, and thou shalt give them to the Levites that watch in the
charge of the tabernacle of the Lord.
31:31. And Moses and Eleazar did as the Lord had commanded.
31:32. And the spoil which the army had taken, was six hundred
seventy-five thousand sheep,
31:33. Seventy-two thousand oxen,
31:34. Sixty-one thousand asses:
31:35. And thirty-two thousand persons of the female sex, that had not
31:36. And one half was given to them that had been in the battle, to
wit, three hundred thirty-seven thousand five hundred sheep:
31:37. Out of which, for the portion of the Lord, were reckoned six
hundred seventy five sheep.
31:38. And out of the thirty-six thousand oxen, seventy-two oxen:
31:39. Out of the thirty thousand five hundred asses, sixty-one asses:
31:40. Out of the sixteen thousand persons, there fell to the portion
of the Lord, thirty-two souls.
31:41. And Moses delivered the number of the firstfruits of the Lord to
Eleazar the priest, as had been commanded him,
31:42. Out of the half of the children of Israel, which he had
separated for them that had been in the battle.
31:43. But out of the half that fell to the rest of the multitude, that
is to say, out of the three hundred thirty-seven thousand five hundred
31:44. And out of the thirty-six thousand oxen,
31:45. And out of the thirty thousand five hundred asses,
31:46. And out of the sixteen thousand persons,
31:47. Moses took the fiftieth head, and gave it to the Levites that
watched in the tabernacle of the Lord, as the Lord had commanded.
31:48. And when the commanders of the army, and the tribunes and
centurions were come to Moses, they said:
31:49. We thy servants have reckoned up the number of the fighting men,
whom we had under our hand, and not so much as one was wanting.
31:50. Therefore we offer as gifts to the Lord what gold every one of
us could find in the booty, in garters and tablets, rings and
bracelets, and chains, that thou mayst pray to the Lord for us.
31:51. And Moses and Eleazar the priest received all the gold in divers
31:52. In weight sixteen thousand seven hundred and fifty sicles, from
the tribunes and from the centurions.
31:53. For that which every one had taken in the booty was his own.
31:54. And that which was received they brought into the tabernacle of
the testimony, for a memorial of the children of Israel before the
Numbers Chapter 32
The tribes of Ruben and Gad, and half of the tribe of Manasses, receive
their inheritance on the east side of Jordan, upon conditions approved
of by Moses.
32:1. And the sons of Ruben and Gad had many flocks of cattle, and
their substance in beasts was infinite.  And when they saw the lands of
Jazer and Galaad fit for feeding cattle,
32:2. They came to Moses and Eleazar the priest, and the princes of the
multitude, and said:
32:3. Ataroth, and Dibon, and Jazer, and Nemra, Hesebon, and Eleale,
and Saban, and Nebo, and Beon,
32:4. The land, which the Lord hath conquered in the sight of the
children of Israel, is a very fertile soil for the feeding of beasts:
and we thy servants have very much cattle:
32:5. And we pray thee, if we have found favour in thy sight, that thou
give it to us thy servants in possession, and make us not pass over the
32:6. And Moses answered them:  What, shall your brethren go to fight,
and will you sit here?
32:7. Why do ye overturn the minds of the children of Israel, that they
may not dare to pass into the place which the Lord hath given them?
32:8. Was it not thus your fathers did, when I sent from Cadesbarne to
view the land?
32:9. And when they were come as far as the valley of the cluster,
having viewed all the country, they overturned the hearts of the
children of Israel, that they should not enter into the coasts, which
the Lord gave them.
32:10. And he swore in his anger, saying:
32:11. If these men, that came up out of Egypt, from twenty years old
and upward, shall see the land, which I promised with an oath to
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob:  because they would not follow me,
32:12. Except Caleb the son of Jephone the Cenezite, and Josue the son
of Nun:  these have fulfilled my will.
32:13. And the Lord being angry against Israel, led them about through
the desert forty years, until the whole generation, that had done evil
in his sight, was consumed.
32:14. And behold, said he, you are risen up instead of your fathers,
the increase and offspring of sinful men, to augment the fury of the
Lord against Israel.
32:15. For if you will not follow him, he will leave the people in the
wilderness, and you shall be the cause of the destruction of all.
32:16. But they coming near, said:  We will make sheepfolds, and stalls
for our cattle, and strong cities for our children:
32:17. And we ourselves will go armed and ready for battle before the
children of Israel, until we bring them in unto their places.  Our
little ones, and all we have, shall be in walled cities, for fear of
the ambushes of the inhabitants.
32:18. We will not return into our houses until the children of Israel
possess their inheritance:
32:19. Neither will we seek any thing beyond the Jordan, because we
have already our possession on the east side thereof,
32:20. And Moses said to them:  If you do what you promise, go on well
appointed for war before the Lord:
32:21. And let every fighting man pass over the Jordan, until the Lord
overthrow his enemies:
32:22. And all the land be brought under him, then shall you be
blameless before the Lord and before Israel, and you shall obtain the
countries that you desire, before the Lord.
32:23. But if you do not what you say, no man can doubt but you sin
against God:  and know ye, that your sin shall overtake you.
32:24. Build therefore cities for your children, and folds and stalls
for your sheep and beasts, and accomplish what you have promised.
32:25. And the children of Gad and Ruben said to Moses:  We are thy
servants, we will do what my lord commandeth.
32:26. We will leave our children, and our wives and sheep and cattle,
in the cities of Galaad:
32:27. And we thy servants all well appointed will march on to the war,
as thou, my lord, speakest.
32:28. Moses therefore commanded Eleazar the priest, and Josue the son
of Nun, and the princes of the families of all the tribes of Israel,
and said to them:
32:29. If the children of Gad, and the children of Ruben pass with you
over the Jordan, all armed for war before the Lord, and the land be
made subject to you:  give them Galaad in possession.
32:30. But if they will not pass armed with you into the land of
Chanaan, let them receive places to dwell in among you.
32:31. And the children of Gad, and the children of Ruben answered:  As
the Lord hath spoken to his servants, so will we do:
32:32. We will go armed before the Lord into the land of Chanaan, and
we confess that we have already received our possession beyond the
32:33. Moses therefore gave to the children of Gad and of Ruben, and to
the half tribe of Manasses the son of Joseph, the kingdom of Sehon king
of the Amorrhites, and the kingdom of Og king of Basan, and their land
and the cities thereof round about.
32:34. And the sons of Gad built Dibon, and Ataroth, and Aroer,
32:35. And Etroth, and Sophan, and Jazer, and Jegbaa,
32:36. And Bethnemra, and Betharan, fenced cities, and folds for their
32:37. But the children of Ruben built Hesebon, and Eleale, and
32:38. And Nabo, and Baalmeon (their names being changed) and Sabama:
giving names to the cities which they had built.
32:39. Moreover the children of Machir, the son of Manasses, went into
Galaad, and wasted it, cutting off the Amorrhites, the inhabitants
32:40. And Moses gave the land of Galaad to Machir the son of Manasses,
and he dwelt in it.
32:41. And Jair the son of Manasses went, and took the villages
thereof, and he called them Havoth Jair, that is to say, the villages
32:42. Nobe also went, and took Canath with the villages thereof:  and
he called it by his own name, Nobe.
Numbers Chapter 33
The mansions or journeys of the children of Israel towards the land of
33:1. These are the mansions of the children of Israel, who went out of
Egypt by their troops under the conduct of Moses and Aaron,
The mansions. . .These mansions, or journeys of the children of Israel
from Egypt to the land of promise, were figures, according to the
fathers, of the steps and degrees by which Christians leaving sin are
to advance from virtue to virtue, till they come to the heavenly
mansions, after this life, to see and enjoy God.
33:2. Which Moses wrote down according to the places of their
encamping, which they changed by the commandment of the Lord.
33:3. Now the children of Israel departed from Ramesses the first
month, on the fifteenth day of the first month, the day after the
phase, with a mighty hand, in the sight of all the Egyptians,
33:4. Who were burying their firstborn, whom the Lord had slain (upon
their gods also he had executed vengeance,)
33:5. And they camped in Soccoth.
33:6. And from Soccoth they came into Etham, which is in the uttermost
borders of the wilderness.
33:7. Departing from thence they came over against Phihahiroth, which
looketh towards Beelsephon, and they camped before Magdalum.
33:8. And departing from Phihahiroth, they passed through the midst of
the sea into the wilderness:  and having marched three days through the
desert of Etham, they camped in Mara.
33:9. And departing from Mara, they came into Elim, where there were
twelve fountains of waters, and seventy palm trees:  and there they
33:10. But departing from thence also, they pitched their tents by the
Red Sea.  And departing from the Red Sea,
33:11. They camped in the desert of Sin.
33:12. And they removed from thence, and came to Daphca.
33:13. And departing from Daphca, they camped in Alus.
33:14. And departing from Alus, they pitched their tents in Raphidim,
where the people wanted water to drink.
33:15. And departing from Raphidim, they camped in the desert of Sinai.
33:16. But departing also from the desert of Sinai, they came to the
graves of lust.
33:17. And departing from the graves of lust, they camped in Haseroth.
33:18. And from Haseroth they came to Rethma.
33:19. And departing from Rethma, they camped in Remmomphares.
33:20. And they departed from thence and came to Lebna.
33:21. Removing from Lebna they camped in Ressa.
33:22. And departing from Ressa, they came to Ceelatha.
33:23. And they removed from thence and camped in the mountain Sepher.
33:24. Departing from the mountain Sepher, they came to Arada,
33:25. From thence they went and camped in Maceloth.
33:26. And departing from Maceloth, they came to Thahath.
33:27. Removing from Thahath they camped in Thare.
33:28. And they departed from thence, and pitched their tents in
33:29. And removing from Methca, they camped in Hesmona.
33:30. And departing from Hesmona, they came to Moseroth.
33:31. And removing from Moseroth, they camped in Benejaacan.
33:32. And departing from Benejaacan, they came to mount Gadgad.
33:33. From thence they went and camped in Jetebatha.
33:34. And from Jetebatha they came to Hebrona.
33:35. And departing from Hebrona, they camped in Asiongaber.
33:36. They removed from thence and came into the desert of Sin, which
33:37. And departing from Cades, they camped in mount Hor, in the
uttermost borders of the land of Edom.
33:38. And Aaron the priest went up into mount Hor at the commandment
of the Lord:  and there he died in the fortieth year of the coming forth
of the children of Israel out of Egypt, the fifth month, the first day
of the month,
33:39. When he was a hundred and twenty-three years old.
33:40. And king Arad the Chanaanite, who dwelt towards the south, heard
that the children of Israel were come to the land of Chanaan.
33:41. And they departed from mount Hor, and camped in Salmona.
33:42. From whence they removed and came to Phunon.
33:43. And departing from Phunon, they camped in Oboth.
33:44. And from Oboth they came to Ijeabarim, which is in the borders
of the Moabites.
33:45. And departing from Ijeabarim they pitched their tents in
33:46. From thence they went and camped in Helmondeblathaim.
33:47. And departing from Helmondeblathaim, they came to the mountains
of Abarim over against Nabo.
33:48. And departing from the mountains of Abarim, they passed to the
plains of Moab, by the Jordan, over against Jericho.
33:49. And there they camped from Bethsimoth even to Ablesatim in the
plains of the Moabites,
33:50. Where the Lord said to Moses:
33:51. Command the children of Israel, and say to them:  When you shall
have passed over the Jordan, entering into the land of Chanaan,
33:52. Destroy all the inhabitants of that land:  Beat down their
pillars, and break in pieces their statues, and waste all their high
33:53. Cleansing the land, and dwelling in it.  For I have given it you
for a possession.
33:54. And you shall divide it among you by lot.  To the more you shall
give a larger part, and to the fewer a lesser.  To every one as the lot
shall fall, so shall the inheritance be given.  The possession shall be
divided by the tribes and the families.
33:55. But if you will not kill the inhabitants of the land:  they that
remain, shall be unto you as nails in your eyes, and spears in your
sides, and they shall be your adversaries in the land of your
33:56. And whatsoever I had thought to do to them, I will do to you.
Numbers Chapter 34
The limits of Chanaan; with the names of the men that make the division
34:1. And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
34:2. Command the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:  When
you are entered into the land of Chanaan, and it shall be fallen into
your possession by lot, it shall be bounded by these limits:
34:3. The south side shall begin from the wilderness of Sin, which is
by Edom:  and shall have the most salt sea for its furthest limits
The most salt sea. . .The lake of Sodom, otherwise called the Dead Sea.
34:4. Which limits shall go round on the south side by the ascent of
the Scorpion and so into Senna, and reach toward the south as far as
Cadesbarne, from whence the frontiers shall go out to the town called
Adar, and shall reach as far as Asemona.
The Scorpion. . .A mountain so called from having a great number of
34:5. And the limits shall fetch a compass from Asemona to the torrent
of Egypt, and shall end in the shore of the great sea.
The great sea. . .The Mediterranean.
34:6. And the west side shall begin from the great sea, and the same
shall be the end thereof.
34:7. But toward the north side the borders shall begin from the great
sea, reaching to the most high mountain,
The most high mountain. . .Libanus.
34:8. From which they shall come to Emath, as far as the borders of
34:9. And the limits shall go as far as Zephrona, and the village of
Enan.  These shall be the borders on the north side.
34:10. From thence they shall mark out the grounds towards the east
side from the village of Enan unto Sephama.
34:11. And from Sephama the bounds shall go down to Rebla over against
the fountain of Daphnis:  from thence they shall come eastward to the
sea of Cenereth,
Sea of Cenereth. . .This is the sea of Galilee, illustrated by the
miracles of our Lord.
34:12. And shall reach as far as the Jordan, and at the last shall be
closed in by the most salt sea.  This shall be your land with its
borders round about.
34:13. And Moses commanded the children of Israel, saying:  This shall
be the land which you shall possess by lot, and which the Lord hath
commanded to be given to the nine tribes, and to the half tribe.
34:14. For the tribe of the children of Ruben by their families, and
the tribe of the children of Gad according to the number of their
kindreds, and half of the tribe of Manasses,
34:15. That is, two tribes and a half, have received their portion
beyond the Jordan over against Jericho at the east side.
34:16. And the Lord said to Moses:
34:17. These are the names of the men, that shall divide the land unto
you:  Eleazar the priest, and Josue the son of Nun,
34:18. And one prince of every tribe,
34:19. Whose names are these:  Of the tribe of Juda, Caleb the son of
34:20. Of the tribe of Simeon, Samuel the son of Ammiud.
34:21. Of the tribe of Benjamin, Elidad the son of Chaselon.
34:22. Of the tribe of the children of Dan, Bocci the son of Jogli.
34:23. Of the children of Joseph of the tribe of Manasses, Hanniel the
son of Ephod.
34:24. Of the tribe of Ephraim, Camuel the son of Sephtan.
34:25. Of the tribe of Zabulon, Elisaphan the son of Pharnach.
34:26. Of the tribe of Issachar, Phaltiel the prince, the son of Ozan.
34:27. Of the tribe of Aser, Ahiud the son of Salomi.
34:28. Of the tribe of Nephtali:  Phedael the son of Ammiud.
34:29. These are they Whom the Lord hath commanded to divide the land
of Chanaan to the children of Israel.
Numbers Chapter 35
Cities are appointed for the Levites.  Of which six are to be the cities
35:1. And the Lord spoke these things also to Moses in the plains of
Moab by the Jordan, over against Jericho:
35:2. Command the children of Israel that they give to the Levites out
of their possessions,
35:3. Cities to dwell in, and their suburbs round about:  that they may
abide in the towns, and the suburbs may be for them cattle and beasts:
35:4. Which suburbs shall reach from the walls of the cities outward, a
thousand paces on every side:
35:5. Toward the east shall be two thousand cubits:  and toward the
south in like manner shall be two thousand cubits:  toward the sea also,
which looketh to the west, shall be the same extent:  and the north side
shall be bounded with the like limits.  And the cities shall be in the
midst, and the suburbs without.
35:6. And among the cities, which you shall give to the Levites, six
shall be separated for refuge to fugitives, that he who hath shed blood
may flee to them:  and besides these there shall be other forty-two
35:7. That is, in all forty-eight with their suburbs.
35:8. And of these cities which shall be given out of the possessions
of the children of Israel, from them that have more, more shall be
taken:  and from them that have less, fewer.  Each shall give towns to
the Levites according to the extent of their inheritance.
35:9. The Lord said to Moses:
35:10. Speak to the children of Israel, and thou shalt say to them:
When you shall have passed over the Jordan into the land of Chanaan,
35:11. Determine what cities shall be for the refuge of fugitives, who
have shed blood against their will.
35:12. And when the fugitive shall be in them, the kinsman of him that
is slain may not have power to kill him, until he stand before the
multitude, and his cause be judged.
35:13. And of those cities, that are separated for the refuge of
35:14. Three shall be beyond the Jordan, and three in the land of
35:15. As well for the children of Israel as for strangers and
sojourners, that he may flee to them, who hath shed blood against his
35:16. If any man strike with iron, and he die that was struck:  he
shall be guilty of murder, and he himself shall die.
35:17. If he throw a stone, and he that is struck die:  he shall be
punished in the same manner.
35:18. If he that is struck with wood die:  he shall be revenged by the
blood of him that struck him.
35:19. The kinsman of him that was slain, shall kill the murderer:  as
soon as he apprehendeth him, he shall kill him.
35:20. If through hatred any one push a man, or fling any thing at him
with ill design:
35:21. Or being his enemy, strike him with his hand, and he die:  the
striker shall be guilty of murder:  the kinsman of him that was slain as
soon as he findeth him, shall kill him.
35:22. But if by chance medley, and without hatred,
35:23. And enmity, he do any of these things,
35:24. And this be proved in the hearing of the people, and the cause
be debated between him that struck, and the next of kin:
35:25. The innocent shall be delivered from the hand of the revenger,
and shall be brought back by sentence into the city, to which he had
fled, and he shall abide there until the death of the high priest, that
is anointed with the holy oil.
Until the death, etc. . .This mystically signified that our deliverance
was to be effected by the death of Christ, the high priest and the
anointed of God.
35:26. If the murderer be found without the limits of the cities that
are appointed for the banished,
35:27. And be struck by him that is the avenger of blood:  he shall not
be guilty that killed him.
35:28. For the fugitive ought to have stayed in the city until the
death of the high priest:  and after he is dead, then shall the
manslayer return to his own country.
35:29. These things shall be perpetual, and for an ordinance in all
your dwellings.
35:30. The murderer shall be punished by witnesses:  none shall be
condemned upon the evidence of one man.
35:31. You shall not take money of him that is guilty of blood, but he
shall die forthwith.
35:32. The banished and fugitives before the death of the high priest
may by no means return into their own cities.
35:33. Defile not the land of your habitation, which is stained with
the blood of the innocent:  neither can it otherwise be expiated, but by
his blood that hath shed the blood of another.
35:34. And thus shall your possession be cleansed, myself abiding with
you.  For I am the Lord that dwell among the children of Israel.
Numbers Chapter 36
That the inheritances may not be alienated from one tribe to another,
all are to marry within their own tribes.
36:1. And the princes of the families of Galaad, the son of Machir, the
son of Manasses, of the stock of the children of Joseph, came and spoke
to Moses before the princes of Israel, and said:
36:2. The Lord hath commanded thee, my lord, that thou shouldst divide
the land by lot to the children of Israel, and that thou shouldst give
to the daughters of Salphaad our brother the possession due to their
36:3. Now if men of another tribe take them to wives, their possession
will follow them, and being transferred to another tribe, will be a
diminishing of our inheritance.
36:4. And so it shall come to pass, that when the jubilee, the is, the
fiftieth year of remission, is come, the distribution made by the lots
shall be confounded, and the possession of the one shall pass to the
36:5. Moses answered the children of Israel, and said by the command of
the Lord:  The tribe of the children of Joseph hath spoken rightly.
36:6. And this is the law promulgated by the Lord touching the
daughters of Salphaad:  Let them marry to whom they will, only so that
it be to men of their own tribe.
36:7. Lest the possession of the children of Israel be mingled from
tribe to tribe.  For all men shall marry wives of their own tribe and
36:8. And all women shall take husbands of the same tribe:  that the
inheritance may remain in the families.
36:9. And that the tribes be not mingled one with another, but remain
36:10. As they were separated by the Lord.  And the daughters of
Salphaad did as was commanded:
36:11. And Maala, and Thersa, and Hegla, and Melcha, and Noa were
married to the sons of their uncle by their father
36:12. Of the family of Manasses, who was the son of Joseph:  and the
possession that had been allotted to them, remained in the tribe and
family of their father.
36:13. These are the commandments and judgment, which the Lord
commanded by the hand of Moses to the children of Israel, in the plains
of Moab upon the Jordan over against Jericho.
THE BOOK OF DEUTERONOMY
This Book is called DEUTERONOMY, which signifies a SECOND LAW, because
it repeats and inculcates the ordinances formerly given on mount Sinai,
with other precepts not expressed before.  The Hebrews, from the first
words in the book, call it ELLE HADDEBARIM.
Deuteronomy Chapter 1
A repetition of what passed at Sinai and Cadesbarne:  and of the
people's murmuring and their punishment.
1:1. These are the words, which Moses spoke to all Israel beyond the
Jordan, in the plain wilderness, over against the Red Sea, between
Pharan and Thophel and Laban and Haseroth, where there is very much
1:2. Eleven days' journey from Horeb by the way of mount Seir to
1:3. In the fortieth year, the eleventh month, the first day of the
month, Moses spoke to the children of Israel all that the Lord had
commanded him to say to them:
1:4. After that he had slain Sehon king of the Amorrhites, who dwelt in
Hesebon:  and Og king of Basan who abode in Astaroth, and in Edrai,
1:5. Beyond the Jordan in the land of Moab.  And Moses began to expound
the law, and to say:
1:6. The Lord our God spoke to us in Horeb, saying:  You have stayed
long enough in this mountain:
1:7. Turn you, and come to the mountain of the Amorrhites, and to the
other places that are next to it, the plains and the hills and the
vales towards the south, and by the sea shore, the land of the
Chanaanites, and of Libanus, as far as the great river Euphrates.
1:8. Behold, said he, I have delivered it to you:  go in and possess it,
concerning which the Lord swore to your fathers Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob, that he would give it to them, and to their seed after them.
1:9. And I said to you at that time:
1:10. I alone am not able to bear you:  for the Lord your God hath
multiplied you, and you are this day as the stars of heaven, for
1:11. (The Lord God of your fathers add to this number many thousands,
and bless you as he hath spoken.)
1:12. I alone am not able to bear your business, and the charge of you
and your differences.
1:13. Let me have from among you wise and understanding men, and such
whose conversation is approved among your tribes, that I may appoint
them your rulers.
1:14. Then you answered me:  The thing is good which thou meanest to do.
1:15. And I took out of your tribes men wise and honourable, and
appointed them rulers, tribunes, and centurions, and officers over
fifties, and over tens, who might teach you all things.
1:16. And I commanded them, saying:  Hear them, and judge that which is
just:  whether he be one of your country, or a stranger.
1:17. There shall be no difference of persons, you shall hear the
little as well as the great:  neither shall you respect any man's
person, because it is the judgment of God.  And if any thing seem hard
to you, refer it to me, and I will hear it.
1:18. And I commanded you all things that you were to do.
1:19. And departing from Horeb, we passed through the terrible and vast
wilderness, which you saw, by the way of the mountain of the Amorrhite,
as the Lord our God had commanded us.  And when we were come into
1:20. I said to you:  You are come to the mountain of the Amorrhite,
which the Lord our God will give to us.
1:21. See the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee:  go up and
possess it, as the Lord our God hath spoken to thy fathers:  fear not,
nor be any way discouraged.
1:22. And you came all to me, and said:  Let us send men who may view
the land, and bring us word what way we shall go up, and to what cities
we shall go.
1:23. And because the saying pleased me, I sent of you twelve men, one
of every tribe:
1:24. Who, when they had set forward and had gone up to the mountains,
came as far as the valley of the cluster:  and having viewed the land,
1:25. Taking of the fruits thereof, to shew its fertility, they brought
them to us, and said:  The land is good, which the Lord our God will
1:26. And you would not go up, but being incredulous to the word of the
Lord our God,
1:27. You murmured in your tents, and said:  The Lord hateth us, and
therefore he hath brought us out of the land of Egypt, that he might
deliver us into the hand of the Amorrhite, and destroy us.
1:28. Whither shall we go up?  the messengers have terrified our hearts,
saying:  The multitude is very great, and taller than we:  the cities are
great, and walled up to the sky, we have seen the sons of the Enacims
Walled up to the sky. . .A figurative expression, signifying the walls
to be very high.
1:29. And I said to you:  Fear not, neither be ye afraid of them:
1:30. The Lord God, who is your leader, himself will fight for you, as
he did in Egypt in the sight of all.
1:31. And in the wilderness (as thou hast seen) the Lord thy God hath
carried thee, as a man is wont to carry his little son, all the way
that you have come, until you came to this place.
1:32. And yet for all this you did not believe the Lord your God,
1:33. Who went before you in the way, and marked out the place, wherein
you should pitch your tents, in the night shewing you the way by fire,
and in the day by the pillar of a cloud.
1:34. And when the Lord had heard the voice of your words, he was angry
and swore, and said:
1:35. Not one of the men of this wicked generation shall see the good
land, which I promised with an oath to your fathers:
1:36. Except Caleb the son of Jephone:  for he shall see it, and to him
I will give the land that he hath trodden upon, and to his children,
because he hath followed the Lord.
1:37. Neither is his indignation against the people to be wondered at,
since the Lord was angry with me also on your account, and said:
Neither shalt thou go in thither.
1:38. But Josue the son of Nun, thy minister, he shall go in for thee:
exhort and encourage him, and he shall divide the land by lot to
1:39. Your children, of whom you said that they should be led away
captives, and your sons who know not this day the difference of good
and evil, they shall go in:  and to them I will give the land, and they
shall possess it.
1:40. But return you and go into the wilderness by the way of the Red
1:41. And you answered me:  We have sinned against the Lord:  we will go
up and fight, as the Lord our God hath commanded.  And when you went
ready armed unto the mountain,
1:42. The Lord said to me:  Say to them:  Go not up, and fight not, for I
am not with you:  lest you fall before your enemies.
1:43. I spoke, and you hearkened not:  but resisting the commandment of
the Lord, and swelling with pride, you went up into the mountain.
1:44. And the Amorrhite that dwelt in the mountains coming out, and
meeting you, chased you, as bees do:  and made slaughter of you from
Seir as far as Horma.
1:45. And when you returned and wept before the Lord, he heard you not,
neither would he yield to your voice.
1:46. So you abode in Cadesbarne a long time.
Deuteronomy Chapter 2
They are forbid to fight against the Edomites, Moabites, and Ammonites.
Their victory over Sehon king of Hesebon.
2:1. And departing from thence we came into the wilderness that leadeth
to the Red Sea, as the Lord had spoken to me:  and we compassed mount
Seir a long time.
2:2. And the Lord said to me:
2:3. You have compassed this mountain long enough:  go toward the north:
2:4. And command thou the people, saying:  You shall pass by the borders
of your brethren the children of Esau, who dwell in Seir, and they will
be afraid of you.
2:5. Take ye then good heed that you stir not against them.  For I will
not give you of their land so much as the step of one foot can tread
upon, because I have given mount Seir to Esau, for a possession.
2:6. You shall buy meats of them for money and shall eat:  you shall
draw waters for money, and shall drink.
2:7. The Lord thy God hath blessed thee in every work of thy hands:  the
Lord thy God dwelling with thee, knoweth thy journey, how thou hast
passed through this great wilderness, for forty years, and thou hast
wanted nothing.
2:8. And when we had passed by our brethren the children of Esau, that
dwelt in Seir, by the way of the plain from Elath and from Asiongaber,
we came to the way that leadeth to the desert of Moab.
2:9. And the Lord said to me:  Fight not against the Moabites, neither
go to battle against them:  for I will not give thee any of their land,
because I have given Ar to the children of Lot in possession.
2:10. The Emims first were the inhabitants thereof, a people great, and
strong, and so tall, that like the race of the Enacims,
2:11. They were esteemed as giants, and were like the sons of the
Enacims.  But the Moabites call them Emims.
2:12. The Horrhites also formerly dwelt in Seir:  who being driven out
and destroyed, the children of Esau dwelt there, as Israel did in the
land of his possession, which the Lord gave him.
2:13. Then rising up to pass the torrent Zared, we came to it.
2:14. And the time that we journeyed from Cadesbarne till we passed
over the torrent Zared, was thirty-eight years:  until all the
generation of the men that were fit for war was consumed out of the
camp, as the Lord had sworn:
2:15. For his hand was against them, that they should perish from the
midst of the camp.
2:16. And after all the fighting men were dead,
2:17. The Lord spoke to me, saying:
2:18. Thou shalt pass this day the borders of Moab, the city named Ar:
2:19. And when thou comest nigh the frontiers of the children of Ammon,
take heed thou fight not against them, nor once move to battle:  for I
will not give thee of the land of the children of Ammon, because I have
given it to the children of Lot for a possession.
2:20. It was accounted a land of giants:  and giants formerly dwelt in
it, whom the Ammonites call Zomzommims,
2:21. A people great and many, and of tall stature, like the Enacims
whom the Lord destroyed before their face:  and he made them to dwell in
their stead,
2:22. As he had done in favour of the children of Esau, that dwell in
Seir, destroying the Horrhites, and delivering their land to them,
which they possess to this day.
2:23. The Hevites also, that dwelt in Haserim as far as Gaza, were
expelled by the Cappadocians:  who came out of Cappadocia, and destroyed
them and dwelt in their stead.
2:24. Arise ye, and pass the torrent Arnon:  Behold I have delivered
into thy hand Sehon king of Hesebon the Amorrhite, and begin thou to
possess his land and make war against him.
2:25. This day will I begin to send the dread and fear of thee upon the
nations that dwell under the whole heaven:  that when they hear thy name
they may fear and tremble, and be in pain like women in travail.
2:26. So I sent messengers from the wilderness of Cademoth to Sehon the
king of Hesebon with peaceable words, saying:
2:27. We will pass through thy land, we will go along by the highway:
we will not turn aside neither to the right hand nor to the left.
2:28. Sell us meat for money, that we may eat:  give us water for money
and so we will drink.  We only ask that thou wilt let us pass through,
2:29. As the children of Esau have done, that dwell in Seir, and the
Moabites, that abide in Ar:  until we come to the Jordan, and pass to
the land which the Lord our God will give us.
2:30. And Sehon the king of Hesebon would not let us pass:  because the
Lord thy God had hardened his spirit, and fixed his heart, that he
might be delivered into thy hands, as now thou seest.
Hardened, etc. . .That is, in punishment of his past sins he left him to
his own stubborn and perverse disposition, which drew him to his ruin.
See the note on Ex. 7.3.
2:31. And the Lord said to me:  Behold I have begun to deliver unto thee
Sehon and his land, begin to possess it.
2:32. And Sehon came out to meet us with all his people to fight at
2:33. And the Lord our God delivered him to us:  and we slew him with
his sons and all his people.
2:34. And we took all his cities at that time, killing the inhabitants
of them, men and women and children.  We left nothing of them:
2:35. Except the cattle which came to the share of them that took them:
and the spoils of the cities, which we took:
2:36. From Aroer, which is upon the bank of the torrent Arnon, a town
that is situate in a valley, as far as Galaad.  There was not a village
or city, that escaped our hands:  the Lord our God delivered all unto
2:37. Except the land of the children of Ammon, to which we approached
not:  and all that border upon the torrent Jeboc, and the cities in the
mountains, and all the places which the Lord our God forbade us.
Deuteronomy Chapter 3
The victory over Og king of Basan.  Ruben, Gad, and half the tribe of
Manasses receive their possession on the other side of Jordan.
3:1. Then we turned and went by the way of Basan:  and Og the king of
Basan came out to meet us with his people to fight in Edrai.
3:2. And the Lord said to me:  Fear him not:  because he is delivered
into thy hand, with all his people and his land:  and thou shalt do to
him as thou hast done to Sehon king of the Amorrhites, that dwelt in
3:3. So the Lord our God delivered into our hands, Og also, the king of
Basan, and all his people:  and we utterly destroyed them,
3:4. Wasting all his cities at one time, there was not a town that
escaped us:  sixty cities, all the country of Argob the kingdom of Og in
3:5. All the cities were fenced with very high walls, and with gates
and bars, besides innumerable towns that had no walls.
3:6. And we utterly destroyed them, as we had done to Sehon the king of
Hesebon, destroying every city, men and women and children:
3:7. But the cattle and the spoils of the cities we took for our prey.
3:8. And we took at that time the land out of the hand of the two kings
of the Amorrhites, that were beyond the Jordan:  from the torrent Arnon
unto the mount Hermon,
3:9. Which the Sidonians call Sarion, and the Amorrhites Sanir:
3:10. All the cities that are situate in the plain, and all the land of
Galaad and Basan as far as Selcha and Edrai, cities of the kingdom of
Og in Basan.
3:11. For only Og king of Basan remained of the race of the giants.  His
bed of iron is shewn, which is in Rabbath of the children of Ammon,
being nine cubits long, and four broad after the measure of the cubit
of a man's hand.
3:12. And we possessed the land at that time from Aroer, which is upon
the bank of the torrent Arnon, unto the half of mount Galaad:  and I
gave the cities thereof to Ruben and Gad.
3:13. And I delivered the other part of Galaad, and all Basan the
kingdom of Og to the half tribe of Manasses, all the country of Argob:
and all Basan is called the Land of giants.
3:14. Jair the son of Manasses possessed all the country of Argob unto
the borders of Gessuri, and Machati.  And he called Basan by his own
name, Havoth Jair, that is to say, the towns of Jair, until this
present day.
3:15. To Machir also I gave Galaad.
3:16. And to the tribes of Ruben and Gad I gave of the land of Galaad
as far as the torrent Arnon, half the torrent, and the confines even
unto the torrent Jeboc, which is the border of the children of Ammon:
3:17. And the plain of the wilderness, and the Jordan, and the borders
of Cenereth unto the sea of the desert, which is the most salt sea, to
the foot of mount Phasga eastward.
3:18. And I commanded you at that time, saying:  The Lord your God
giveth you this land for an inheritance, go ye well appointed before
your brethren the children of Israel, all the strong men of you.
3:19. Leaving your wives and children and cattle.  For I know you have
much cattle, and they must remain in the cities, which I have delivered
3:20. Until the Lord give rest to your brethren, as he hath given to
you:  and they also possess the land, which he will give them beyond the
Jordan:  then shall every man return to his possession, which I have
3:21. I commanded Josue also at that time, saying:  Thy eyes have seen
what the Lord your God hath done to these two kings:  so will he do to
all the kingdoms to which thou shalt pass.
3:22. Fear them not:  for the Lord your God will fight for you.
3:23. And I besought the Lord at that time, saying:
3:24. Lord God, thou hast begun to shew unto thy servant thy greatness,
and most mighty hand, for there is no other God either in heaven or
earth, that is able to do thy works, or to be compared to thy strength.
3:25. I will pass over therefore, and will see this excellent land
beyond the Jordan, and this goodly mountain, and Libanus.
3:26. And the Lord was angry with me on your account and heard me not,
but said to me:  It is enough:  speak no more to me of this matter.
3:27. Go up to the top of Phasga, and cast thy eyes round about to the
west, and to the north, and to the south, and to the east, and behold
it, for thou shalt not pass this Jordan.
3:28. Command Josue, and encourage and strengthen him:  for he shall go
before this people, and shall divide unto them the land which thou
3:29. And we abode in the valley over against the temple of Phogor.
Deuteronomy Chapter 4
Moses exhorteth the people to keep God's commandments:  particularly to
fly idolatry.  Appointeth three cities of refuge, on that side of the
4:1. And now, O Israel, hear the commandments and judgments which I
teach thee:  that doing them, thou mayst live, and entering in mayst
possess the land which the Lord the God of your fathers will give you.
4:2. You shall not add to the word that I speak to you, neither shall
you take away from it:  keep the commandments of the Lord your God which
I command you.
4:3. Your eyes have seen all that the Lord hath done against
Beelphegor, how he hath destroyed all his worshippers from among you.
4:4. But you that adhere to the Lord your God, are all alive until this
present day.
4:5. You know that I have taught you statutes and justices, as the Lord
my God hath commanded me:  so shall you do them in the land which you
shall possess:
4:6. And you shall observe, and fulfil them in practice.  For this is
your wisdom, and understanding in the sight of nations, that hearing
all these precepts, they may say:  Behold a wise and understanding
people, a great nation.
4:7. Neither is there any other nation so great, that hath gods so nigh
them, as our God is present to all our petitions.
4:8. For what other nation is there so renowned that hath ceremonies,
and just judgments, and all the law, which I will set forth this day
before our eyes?
4:9. Keep thyself therefore, and thy soul carefully.  Forget not the
words that thy eyes have seen, and let them not go out of thy heart all
the days of thy life.  Thou shalt teach them to thy sons and to thy
4:10. From the day in which thou didst stand before the Lord thy God in
Horeb, when the Lord spoke to me, saying:  Call together the people unto
me, that they may hear my words, and may learn to fear me all the time
that they live on the earth, and may teach their children.
4:11. And you came to the foot of the mount, which burned even unto
heaven:  and there was darkness, and a cloud and obscurity in it.
4:12. And the Lord spoke to you from the midst of the fire.  You heard
the voice of his words, but you saw not any form at all.
4:13. And he shewed you his covenant, which he commanded you to do, and
the ten words that he wrote in two tables of stone.
4:14. And he commanded me at that time that I should teach you the
ceremonies and judgments which you shall do in the land, that you shall
4:15. Keep therefore your souls carefully.  You saw not any similitude
in the day that the Lord God spoke to you in Horeb from the midst of
4:16. Lest perhaps being deceived you might make you a graven
similitude, or image of male or female,
4:17. The similitude of any beasts, that are upon the earth, or of
birds, that fly under heaven,
4:18. Or of creeping things, that move on the earth, or of fishes, that
abide in the waters under the earth:
4:19. Lest perhaps lifting up thy eyes to heaven, thou see the sun and
the moon, and all the stars of heaven, and being deceived by error thou
adore and serve them, which the Lord thy God created for the service of
all the nations, that are under heaven.
4:20. But the Lord hath taken you and brought you out of the iron
furnaces of Egypt, to make you his people of inheritance, as it is this
present day.
4:21. And the Lord was angry with me for your words, and he swore that
I should not pass over the Jordan, nor enter into the excellent land,
which he will give you.
4:22. Behold I die in this land, I shall not pass over the Jordan:  you
shall pass, and possess the goodly land.
4:23. Beware lest thou ever forget the covenant of the Lord thy God,
which he hath made with thee:  and make to thyself a graven likeness of
those things which the Lord hath forbid to be made:
4:24. Because the Lord thy God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.
4:25. If you shall beget sons and grandsons, and abide in the land, and
being deceived, make to yourselves any similitude, committing evil
before the Lord your God, to provoke him to wrath:
4:26. I call this day heaven and earth to witness, that you shall
quickly perish out of the land, which, when you have passed over the
Jordan, you shall possess.  You shall not dwell therein long, but the
Lord will destroy you,
4:27. And scatter you among all nations, and you shall remain a few
among the nations, to which the Lord shall lead you.
4:28. And there you shall serve gods, that were framed with men's
hands:  wood and stone, that neither see, nor hear, nor eat, nor smell.
4:29. And when thou shalt seek there the Lord thy God, thou shalt find
him:  yet so, if thou seek him with all thy heart, and all the
affliction of thy soul.
4:30. After all the things aforesaid shall find thee, in the latter
time thou shalt return to the Lord thy God, and shalt hear his voice.
4:31. Because the Lord thy God is a merciful God:  he will not leave
thee, nor altogether destroy thee, nor forget the covenant, by which he
swore to thy fathers.
4:32. Ask of the days of old, that have been before thy time from the
day that God created man upon the earth, from one end of heaven to the
other end thereof, if ever there was done the like thing, or it hath
been known at any time,
4:33. That a people should hear the voice of God speaking out of the
midst of fire, as thou hast heard, and lived:
4:34. If God ever did so as to go, and take to himself a nation out of
the midst of nations by temptations, signs, and wonders, by fight, and
a strong hand, and stretched out arm, and horrible visions according to
all the things that the Lord your God did for you in Egypt, before thy
4:35. That thou mightest know that the Lord he is God, and there is no
other besides him.
4:36. From heaven he made thee to hear his voice, that he might teach
thee.  And upon earth he shewed thee his exceeding great fire, and thou
didst hear his words out of the midst of the fire,
4:37. Because he loved thy fathers, and chose their seed after them.
And he brought thee out of Egypt, going before thee with his great
4:38. To destroy at thy coming very great nations, and stronger than
thou art, and to bring thee in, and give thee their land for a
possession, as thou seest at this present day.
4:39. Know therefore this day, and think in thy heart that the Lord he
is God in heaven above, and in the earth beneath, and there is no
4:40. Keep his precepts and commandments, which I command thee:  that it
may be well with thee, and thy children after thee, and thou mayst
remain a long time upon the land, which the Lord thy God will give
4:41. Then Moses set aside three cities beyond the Jordan at the east
4:42. That any one might flee to them who should kill his neighbour
unwillingly, and was not his enemy a day or two before, and that he
might escape to some one of these cities:
4:43. Bosor in the wilderness, which is situate in the plains of the
tribe of Ruben:  and Ramoth in Galaad, which is in the tribe of Gad:  and
Golan in Basan, which is in the tribe of Manasses.
4:44. This is the law, that Moses set before the children of Israel,
4:45. And these are the testimonies and ceremonies and judgments, which
he spoke to the children of Israel, when they came out of Egypt,
4:46. Beyond the Jordan in the valley over against the temple of
Phogor, in the land of Sehon king of the Amorrhites, that dwelt in
Hesebon, whom Moses slew.  And the children of Israel coming out of
4:47. Possessed his land, and the land of Og king of Basan, of the two
kings of the Amorrhites, who were beyond the Jordan towards the rising
4:48. From Aroer, which is situate upon the bank of the torrent Arnon,
unto mount Sion, which is also called Hermon,
4:49. All the plain beyond the Jordan at the east side, unto the sea of
the wilderness, and unto the foot of mount Phasga.
Deuteronomy Chapter 5
The ten commandments are repeated and explained.
5:1. And Moses called all Israel, and said to them:  Hear, O Israel, the
ceremonies and judgments, which I speak in your ears this day:  learn
them, and fulfil them in work.
5:2. The Lord our God made a covenant with us in Horeb.
5:3. He made not the covenant with our fathers, but with us, who are
now present and living.
5:4. He spoke to us face to face in the mount out of the midst of fire.
5:5. I was the mediator and stood between the Lord and you at that
time, to shew you his words, for you feared the fire, and went not up
into the mountain, and he said:
5:6. I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land of Egypt,
out of the house of bondage.
5:7. Thou shalt not have strange gods in my sight.
5:8. Thou shalt not make to thy self a graven thing, nor the likeness
of any things, that are in heaven above, or that are in the earth
beneath, or that abide in the waters under the earth.
5:9. Thou shalt not adore them, and thou shalt not serve them.  For I am
the Lord thy God, a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers
upon their children unto the third and fourth generation, to them that
5:10. And shewing mercy unto many thousands, to them that love me, and
keep my commandments.
5:11. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain:  for he
shall not be unpunished that taketh his name upon a vain thing.
5:12. Observe the day of the sabbath, to sanctify it, as the Lord thy
God hath commanded thee.
5:13. Six days shalt thou labour, and shalt do all thy works.
5:14. The seventh is the day of the sabbath, that is, the rest of the
Lord thy God.  Thou shalt not do any work therein, thou nor thy son nor
thy daughter, nor thy manservant nor thy maidservant, nor thy ox, nor
thy ass, nor any of thy beasts, nor the stranger that is within thy
gates:  that thy manservant and thy maidservant may rest, even as
5:15. Remember that thou also didst serve in Egypt, and the Lord thy
God brought thee out from thence with a strong hand, and a stretched
out arm.  Therefore hath he commanded thee that thou shouldst observe
the sabbath day.
5:16. Honour thy father and mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded
thee, that thou mayst live a long time, and it may be well with thee in
the land, which the Lord thy God will give thee.
5:17. Thou shalt not kill.
5:18. Neither shalt thou commit adultery.
5:19. And thou shalt not steal.
5:20. Neither shalt thou bear false witness against thy neighbour.
5:21. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife:  nor his house, nor his
field, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his
ass, nor any thing that is his.
5:22. These words the Lord spoke to all the multitude of you in the
mountain, out of the midst of the fire and the cloud, and the darkness,
with a loud voice, adding nothing more:  and he wrote them in two tables
of stone, which he delivered unto me.
5:23. But you, after you heard the voice out of the midst of the
darkness, and saw the mountain burn, came to me, all the princes of the
tribes and the elders, and you said:
5:24. Behold the Lord our God hath shewn us his majesty and his
greatness, we have heard his voice out of the midst of the fire, and
have proved this day that God speaking with man, man hath lived.
5:25. Why shall we die therefore, and why shall this exceeding great
fire comsume us:  for if we hear the voice of the Lord our God any more,
we shall die.
5:26. What is all flesh, that it should hear the voice of the living
God, who speaketh out of the midst of the fire, as we have heard, and
be able to live?
5:27. Approach thou rather:  and hear all things that the Lord our God
shall say to thee, and thou shalt speak to us, and we will hear and
will do them.
5:28. And when the Lord had heard this, he said to me:  I have heard the
voice of the words of this people, which they spoke to thee:  they have
spoken all things well.
5:29. Who shall give them to have such a mind, to fear me, and to keep
all my commandments at all times, that it may be well with them and
with their children for ever?
5:30. Go and say to them:  Return into your tents.
5:31. But stand thou here with me, and I will speak to thee all my
commandments, and ceremonies and judgments:  which thou shalt teach
them, that they may do them in the land, which I will give them for a
5:32. Keep therefore and do the things which the Lord God hath
commanded you:  you shall not go aside neither to the right hand, nor to
5:33. But you shall walk in the way that the Lord your God hath
commanded, that you may live, and it may be well with you, and your
days may be long in the land of your possession.
Deuteronomy Chapter 6
An exhortation to the love of God, and obedience to his law.
6:1. These are the precepts, and ceremonies, and judgments, which the
Lord your God commanded that I should teach you, and that you should do
them in the land into which you pass over to possess it:
6:2. That thou mayst fear the Lord thy God, and keep all his
commandments and precepts, which I command thee, and thy sons, and thy
grandsons, all the days of thy life, that thy days may be prolonged.
6:3. Hear, O Israel, and observe to do the things which the Lord hath
commanded thee, that it may be well with thee, and thou mayst be
greatly multiplied, as the Lord the God of thy fathers hath promised
thee a land flowing with milk and honey.
6:4. Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord.
6:5. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with
thy whole soul, and with thy whole strength.
6:6. And these words which I command thee this day, shall be in thy
6:7. And thou shalt tell them to thy children, and thou shalt meditate
upon them sitting in thy house, and walking on thy journey, sleeping
6:8. And thou shalt bind them as a sign on thy hand, and they shall be
and shall move between thy eyes.
6:9. And thou shalt write them in the entry, and on the doors of thy
6:10. And when the Lord thy God shall have brought thee into the land,
for which he swore to thy fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob:  and shall
have given thee great and goodly cities, which thou didst not build,
6:11. Houses full of riches, which thou didst not set up, cisterns
which thou didst not dig, vineyards and oliveyards, which thou didst
6:12. And thou shalt have eaten and be full:
6:13. Take heed diligently lest thou forget the Lord, who brought thee
out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.  Thou shalt fear
the Lord thy God, and shalt serve him only, and thou shalt swear by his
6:14. You shall not go after the strange gods of all the nations, that
are round about you:
6:15. Because the Lord thy God is a jealous God in the midst of thee:
lest at any time the wrath of the Lord thy God be kindled against thee,
and take thee away from the face of the earth.
6:16. Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God, as thou temptedst him in
the place of temptation.
6:17. Keep the precepts of the Lord thy God, and the testimonies and
ceremonies which he hath commanded thee.
6:18. And do that which is pleasing and good in the sight of the Lord,
that it may be well with thee:  and going in thou mayst possess the
goodly land, concerning which the Lord swore to thy fathers,
6:19. That he would destroy all thy enemies before thee, as he hath
6:20. And when thy son shall ask thee to morrow, saying:  What mean
these testimonies, and ceremonies and judgments, which the Lord our God
hath commanded us?
6:21. Thou shalt say to him:  We were bondmen of Pharao in Egypt, and
the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a strong hand.
6:22. And he wrought signs and wonders great and very grievous in Egypt
against Pharao, and all his house, in our sight,
6:23. And he brought us out from thence, that he might bring us in and
give us the land, concerning which he swore to our fathers.
6:24. And the Lord commanded that we should do all these ordinances,
and should fear the Lord our God, that it might be well with us all the
days of our life, as it is at this day.
6:25. And he will be merciful to us, if we keep and do all his precepts
before the Lord our God, as he hath commanded us.
Deuteronomy Chapter 7
No league nor fellowship to be made with the Chanaanites:  God promiseth
his people his blessing and assistance, if they keep his commandments.
7:1. When the Lord thy God shall have brought thee into the land, which
thou art going in to possess, and shall have destroyed many nations
before thee, the Hethite, and the Gergezite, and the Amorrhite, and the
Chanaanite, and the Pherezite, and the Hevite, and the Jebusite, seven
nations much more numerous than thou art, and stronger than thou:
7:2. And the Lord thy God shall have delivered them to thee, thou shalt
utterly destroy them.  Thou shalt make no league with them, nor shew
mercy to them:
7:3. Neither shalt thou make marriages with them.  Thou shalt not give
thy daughter to his son, nor take his daughter for thy son:
7:4. For she will turn away thy son from following me, that he may
rather serve strange gods, and the wrath of the Lord will be kindled,
and will quickly destroy thee.
7:5. But thus rather shall you deal with them:  Destroy their altars,
and break their statues, and cut down their groves, and burn their
graven things.
7:6. Because thou art a holy people to the Lord thy God.  The Lord thy
God hath chosen thee, to be his peculiar people of all peoples that are
upon the earth.
7:7. Not because you surpass all nations in number, is the Lord joined
unto you, and hath chosen you, for you are the fewest of any people:
7:8. But because the Lord hath loved you, and hath kept his oath, which
he swore to your fathers:  and hath brought you out with a strong hand,
and redeemed you from the house of bondage, out of the hand of Pharao
the king of Egypt.
7:9. And thou shalt know that the Lord thy God, he is a strong and
faithful God, keeping his covenant and mercy to them that love him, and
to them that keep his commandments, unto a thousand generations:
7:10. And repaying forthwith them that hate him, so as to destroy them,
without further delay immediately rendering to them what they deserve.
7:11. Keep therefore the precepts and ceremonies and judgments, which I
command thee this day to do.
7:12. If after thou hast heard these judgments, thou keep and do them,
the Lord thy God will also keep his covenant to thee, and the mercy
which he swore to thy fathers:
7:13. And he will love thee and multiply thee, and will bless the fruit
of thy womb, and the fruit of thy land, thy corn, and thy vintage, thy
oil, and thy herds, and the flocks of thy sheep upon the land, for
which he swore to thy fathers that he would give it thee.
7:14. Blessed shalt thou be among all people.  No one shall be barren
among you of either sex, neither of men nor cattle.
7:15. The Lord will take away from thee all sickness:  and the grievous
infirmities of Egypt, which thou knowest, he will not bring upon thee,
but upon thy enemies.
7:16. Thou shalt consume all the people, which the Lord thy God will
deliver to thee.  Thy eye shall not spare them, neither shalt thou serve
their gods, lest they be thy ruin.
7:17. If thou say in thy heart:  These nations are more than I, how
shall I be able to destroy them?
7:18. Fear not, but remember what the Lord thy God did to Pharao and to
all the Egyptians,
7:19. The exceeding great plagues, which thy eyes saw, and the signs
and wonders, and the strong hand, and the stretched out arm, with which
the Lord thy God brought thee out:  so will he do to all the people,
whom thou fearest.
7:20. Moreover the Lord thy God will send also hornets among them,
until he destroy and consume all that have escaped thee, and could hide
7:21. Thou shalt not fear them, because the Lord thy God is in the
midst of thee, a God mighty and terrible:
7:22. He will consume these nations in thy sight by little and little
and by degrees.  Thou wilt not be able to destroy them altogether:  lest
perhaps the beasts of the earth should increase upon thee.
7:23. But the Lord thy God shall deliver them in thy sight:  and shall
slay them until they be utterly destroyed.
7:24. And he shall deliver their kings into thy hands, and thou shalt
destroy their names from under Heaven:  no man shall be able to resist
thee, until thou destroy them.
7:25. Their graven things thou shalt burn with fire:  thou shalt not
covet the silver and gold of which they are made, neither shalt thou
take to thee any thing thereof, lest thou offend, because it is an
abomination to the Lord thy God.
Graven things. . .Idols, so called by contempt.
7:26. Neither shalt thou bring any thing of the idol into thy house,
lest thou become an anathema, like it.  Thou shalt detest it as dung,
and shalt utterly abhor it as uncleanness and filth, because it is an
Deuteronomy Chapter 8
The people is put in mind of God's dealings with them, to the end that
they may love him and serve him.
8:1. All the commandments, that I command thee this day, take great
care to observe:  that you may live, and be multiplied, and going in may
possess the land, for which the Lord swore to your fathers.
8:2. And thou shalt remember all the way through which the Lord thy God
hath brought thee for forty years through the desert, to afflict thee
and to prove thee, and that the things that were known in thy heart
might be made known, whether thou wouldst keep his commandments or no.
8:3. He afflicted thee with want, and gave thee manna for thy food,
which neither thou nor thy fathers knew:  to shew that not in bread
alone doth man live, but in every word that proceedeth from the mouth
Not in bread alone, etc. . .That is, that God is able to make food of
what he pleases for the support of man.
8:4. Thy raiment, with which thou wast covered, hath not decayed for
age, and thy foot is not worn, lo this is the fortieth year,
8:5. That thou mayst consider in thy heart, that as a man traineth up
his son, so the Lord thy God hath trained thee up.
8:6. That thou shouldst keep the commandments of the Lord thy God, and
walk in his ways, and fear him.
8:7. For the Lord thy God will bring thee into a good land, of brooks
and of waters, and of fountains:  in the plains of which and the hills
deep rivers break out:
8:8. A land of wheat, and barley, and vineyards, wherein fig trees and
pomegranates, and oliveyards grow:  a land of oil and honey.
8:9. Where without any want thou shalt eat thy bread, and enjoy
abundance of all things:  where the stones are iron, and out of its
hills are dug mines of brass:
8:10. That when thou hast eaten, and art full, thou mayst bless the
Lord thy God for the excellent land which he hath given thee.
8:11. Take heed, and beware lest at any time thou forget the Lord thy
God, and neglect his commandments and judgments and ceremonies, which I
command thee this day:
8:12. Lest after thou hast eaten and art filled, hast built goodly
houses, and dwelt in them,
8:13. And shalt have herds of oxen and flocks of sheep, and plenty of
gold and of silver, and of all things,
8:14. Thy heart be lifted up, and thou remember not the Lord thy God,
who brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage:
8:15. And was thy leader in the great and terrible wilderness, wherein
there was the serpent burning with his breath, and the scorpion and the
dipsas, and no waters at all:  who brought forth streams out of the
hardest rock,
The Dipsas. . .A serpent whose bite causeth a violent thirst; from
whence it has its name, for in Greek dipsa signifies thirst.
8:16. And fed thee in the wilderness with manna which thy fathers knew
not.  And after he had afflicted and proved thee, at the last he had
mercy on thee,
8:17. Lest thou shouldst say in thy heart:  My own might, and the
strength of my own hand have achieved all these things for me.
8:18. But remember the Lord thy God, that he hath given thee strength,
that he might fulfil his covenant, concerning which he swore to thy
fathers, as this present day sheweth.
8:19. But if thou forget the Lord thy God, and follow strange gods, and
serve and adore them:  behold now I foretell thee that thou shalt
utterly perish.
8:20. As the nations, which the Lord destroyed at thy entrance, so
shall you also perish, if you be disobedient to the voice of the Lord
Deuteronomy Chapter 9
Lest they should impute their victories to their own merits, they are
put in mind of their manifold rebellions and other sins, for which they
should have been destroyed, but God spared them for his promise made to
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
9:1. Hear, O Israel:  Thou shalt go over the Jordan this day; to possess
nations very great, and stronger than thyself, cities great, and walled
up to the sky,
9:2. A people great and tall, the sons of the Enacims, whom thou hast
seen, and heard of, against whom no man is able to stand.
9:3. Thou shalt know therefore this day that the Lord thy God himself
will pass over before thee, a devouring and consuming fire, to destroy
and extirpate and bring them to nothing before thy face quickly, as he
hath spoken to thee.
9:4. Say not in thy heart, when the Lord thy God shall have destroyed
them in thy sight:  For my justice hath the Lord brought me in to
possess this land, whereas these nations are destroyed for their
9:5. For it is not for thy justices, and the uprightness of thy heart
that thou shalt go in to possess their lands:  but because they have
done wickedly, they are destroyed at thy coming in:  and that the Lord
might accomplish his word, which he promised by oath to thy fathers
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
9:6. Know therefore that the Lord thy God giveth thee not this
excellent land in possession for thy justices, for thou art a very
stiffnecked people.
9:7. Remember, and forget not how thou provokedst the Lord thy God to
wrath in the wilderness.  From the day that thou camest out of Egypt
unto this place, thou hast always strove against the Lord.
9:8. For in Horeb, also thou didst provoke him, and he was angry, and
would have destroyed thee,
9:9. When I went up into the mount to receive the tables of stone, the
tables of the covenant which the Lord made with you:  and I continued in
the mount forty days and nights, neither eating bread, nor drinking
9:10. And the Lord gave me two tables of stone written with the finger
of God, and containing all the words that he spoke to you in the mount
from the midst of the fire, when the people were assembled together.
9:11. And when forty days were passed, and as many nights, the Lord
gave me the two tables of stone, the tables of the covenant,
9:12. And said to me:  Arise, and go down from hence quickly:  for thy
people, which thou hast brought out of Egypt, have quickly forsaken the
way that thou hast shewn them, and have made to themselves a molten
9:13. And again the Lord said to me:  I see that this people is
stiffnecked:
9:14. Let me alone that I may destroy them, and abolish their name from
under heaven, and set thee over a nation, that is greater and stronger
9:15. And when I came down from the burning mount, and held the two
tables of the covenant with both hands,
9:16. And saw that you had sinned against the Lord your God, and had
made to yourselves a molten calf, and had quickly forsaken his way,
which he had shewn you:
9:17. I cast the tables out of my hands, and broke them in your sight.
9:18. And I fell down before the Lord as before, forty days and nights
neither eating bread, nor drinking water, for all your sins, which you
had committed against the Lord, and had provoked him to wrath:
9:19. For I feared his indignation and anger, wherewith being moved
against you, he would have destroyed you.  And the Lord heard me this
9:20. And he was exceeding angry against Aaron also, and would have
destroyed him, and I prayed in like manner for him.
9:21. And your sin that you had committed, that is, the calf, I took,
and burned it with fire, and breaking it into pieces, until it was as
small as dust, I threw it into the torrent, which cometh down from the
9:22. At the burning also, and at the place of temptation, and at the
graves of lust you provoked the Lord:
9:23. And when he sent you from Cadesbarne, saying:  Go up, and possess
the land that I have given you, and you slighted the commandment of the
Lord your God, and did not believe him, neither would you hearken to
9:24. But were always rebellious from the day that I began to know you.
9:25. And I lay prostrate before the Lord forty days and nights, in
which I humbly besought him, that he would not destroy you as he had
9:26. And praying, I said:  O Lord God, destroy not thy people, and thy
inheritance, which thou hast redeemed in thy greatness, whom thou hast
brought out of Egypt with a strong hand.
9:27. Remember thy servants Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob:  look not on the
stubbornness of this people, nor on their wickedness and sin:
9:28. Lest perhaps the inhabitants of the land, out of which thou hast
brought us, say:  The Lord could not bring them into the land that he
promised them, and he hated them:  therefore he brought them out, that
he might kill them in the wilderness,
9:29. Who are thy people and thy inheritance, whom thou hast brought
out by thy great strength, and in thy stretched out arm.
Deuteronomy Chapter 10
God giveth the second tables of the law:  a further exhortation to fear
and serve the Lord.
10:1. At that time the Lord said to me:  Hew thee two tables of stone
like the former, and come up to me into the mount:  and thou shalt make
an ark of wood,
10:2. And I will write on the tables the words that were in them, which
thou brokest before, and thou shalt put them in the ark.
10:3. And I made an ark of setim wood.  And when I had hewn two tables
of stone like the former, I went up into the mount, having them in my
10:4. And he wrote in the tables, according as he had written before,
the ten words, which the Lord spoke to you in the mount from the midst
of the fire, when the people were assembled:  and he gave them to me.
10:5. And returning from the mount, I came down, and put the tables
into the ark, that I had made, and they are there till this present, as
the Lord commanded me.
10:6. And the children of Israel removed their camp from Beroth, of the
children of Jacan into Mosera, where Aaron died and was buried, and
Eleazar his son succeeded him in the priestly office.
Mosera. . .By mount Hor, for there Aaron died, Num. 20. This and the
following verses seem to be inserted by way of parenthesis.
10:7. From thence they came to Gadgad, from which place they departed,
and camped in Jetebatha, in a land of waters and torrents.
10:8. At that time he separated the tribe of Levi, to carry the ark of
the covenant of the Lord, and to stand before him in the ministry, and
to bless in his name until this present day.
10:9. Wherefore Levi hath no part nor possession with his brethren:
because the Lord himself is his possession, as the Lord thy God
promised him.
10:10. And I stood in the mount, as before, forty days and nights:  and
the Lord heard me this time also, and would not destroy thee.
10:11. And he said to me:  Go, and walk before the people, that they may
enter, and possess the land, which I swore to their fathers that I
would give them.
10:12. And now, Israel, what doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but
that thou fear the Lord thy God, and walk in his ways, and love him,
and serve the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with all thy soul:
10:13. And keep the commandments of the Lord, and his ceremonies, which
I command thee this day, that it may be well with thee?
10:14. Behold heaven is the Lord's thy God, and the heaven of heaven,
the earth and all things that are therein.
10:15. And yet the Lord hath been closely joined to thy fathers, and
loved them and chose their seed after them, that is to say, you, out of
all nations, as this day it is proved.
10:16. Circumcise therefore the foreskin of your heart, and stiffen
your neck no more.
10:17. Because the Lord your God he is the God of gods, and the Lord of
lords, a great God and mighty and terrible, who accepteth no person nor
taketh bribes.
10:18. He doth judgment to the fatherless and the widow, loveth the
stranger, and giveth him food and raiment.
10:19. And do you therefore love strangers, because you also were
strangers in the land of Egypt.
10:20. Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, and serve him only:  to him
thou shalt adhere, and shalt swear by his name.
10:21. He is thy praise, and thy God, that hath done for thee these
great and terrible things, which thy eyes have seen.
10:22. In seventy souls thy fathers went down into Egypt:  and behold
now the Lord thy God hath multiplied thee as the stars of heaven.
Deuteronomy Chapter 11
The love and service of God are still inculcated, with a blessing to
them that serve him, and threats of punishment if they forsake his law.
11:1. Therefore love the Lord thy God and observe his precepts and
ceremonies, his judgments and commandments at all times.
11:2. Know this day the things that your children know not, who saw not
the chastisements of the Lord your God, his great doings and strong
hand, and stretched out arm,
11:3. The signs and works which he did in the midst of Egypt to king
Pharao, and to all his land,
11:4. And to all the host of the Egyptians, and to their horses and
chariots:  how the waters of the Red Sea covered them, when they pursued
you, and how the Lord destroyed them until this present day:
11:5. And what he hath done to you in the wilderness, til you came to
11:6. And to Dathan and Abiron the sons of Eliab, who was the son of
Ruben:  whom the earth, opening her mouth swallowed up with their
households and tents, and all their substance, which they had in the
midst of Israel.
11:7. Your eyes have seen all the great works of the Lord, that he hath
11:8. That you may keep all his commandments, which I command you this
day, and may go in, and possess the land, to which you are entering,
11:9. And may live in it a long time:  which the Lord promised by oath
to your fathers, and to their seed, a land which floweth with milk and
11:10. For the land, which thou goest to possess, is not like the land
of Egypt, from whence thou camest out, where, when the seed is sown,
waters are brought in to water it after the manner of gardens.
11:11. But it is a land of hills and plains, expecting rain from
11:12. And the Lord thy God doth always visit it, and his eyes are on
it from the beginning of the year unto the end thereof.
11:13. If then you obey my commandments, which I command you this day,
that you love the Lord your God, and serve him with all your heart, and
with all your soul:
11:14. He will give to your land the early rain and the latter rain,
that you may gather in your corn, and your wine, and your oil,
11:15. And your hay out of the fields to feed your cattle, and that you
may eat and be filled.
11:16. Beware lest perhaps your heart be deceived, and you depart from
the Lord, and serve strange gods, and adore them:
11:17. And the Lord being angry shut up heaven, that the rain come not
down, nor the earth yield her fruit, and you perish quickly from the
excellent land, which the Lord will give you.
11:18. Lay up these words in your hearts and minds, and hang them for a
sign on your hands, and place them between your eyes.
11:19. Teach your children that they meditate on them, when thou
sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest on the way, and when thou
liest down and risest up.
11:20. Thou shalt write them upon the posts and the doors of thy house:
11:21. That thy days may be multiplied, and the days of thy children in
the land which the Lord swore to thy fathers, that he would give them
as long as the heaven hangeth over the earth.
11:22. For if you keep the commandments which I command you, and do
them, to love the Lord your God, and walk in all his ways, cleaving
11:23. The Lord will destroy all these nations before your face, and
you shall possess them, which are greater and stronger than you.
11:24. Every place, that your foot shall tread upon, shall be yours.
From the desert, and from Libanus, from the great river Euphrates unto
the western sea shall be your borders.
11:25. None shall stand against you:  the Lord your God shall lay the
dread and fear of you upon all the land that you shall tread upon, as
he hath spoken to you.
11:26. Behold I set forth in your sight this day a blessing and a
11:27. A blessing, if you obey the commandments of the Lord your God,
which I command you this day:
11:28. A curse, if you obey not the commandments of the Lord your God,
but revolt from the way which now I shew you, and walk after strange
gods which you know not.
11:29. And when the Lord thy God shall have brought thee into the land,
whither thou goest to dwell, thou shalt put the blessing upon mount
Garizim, the curse upon mount Hebal:
Put the blessing, et. . .See Deut. 27.12, etc. and Josue 8.33, etc.
11:30. Which are beyond the Jordan, behind the way that goeth to the
setting of the sun, in the land of the Chanaanite who dwelleth in the
plain country over against Galgala, which is near the valley that
reacheth and entereth far.
11:31. For you shall pass over the Jordan, to possess the land, which
the Lord your God will give you, that you may have it and possess it.
11:32. See therefore that you fulfil the ceremonies and judgments,
which I shall set this day before you.
Deuteronomy Chapter 12
All idolatry must be extirpated:  sacrifices, tithes, and firstfruits
must be offered in one only place:  all eating of blood is prohibited.
12:1. These are the precepts and judgments, that you must do in the
land, which the Lord the God of thy fathers will give thee, to possess
it all the days that thou shalt walk upon the earth.
12:2. Destroy all the places in which the nations, that you shall
possess, worshipped their gods upon high mountains, and hills, and
under every shady tree:
12:3. Overthrow their altars, and break down their statues, burn their
groves with fire, and break their idols in pieces:  destroy their names
out of those places.
12:4. You shall not do so to the Lord your God:
12:5. But you shall come to the place, which the Lord your God shall
choose out of all your tribes, to put his name there, and to dwell in
12:6. And you shall offer in that place your holocausts and victims,
the tithes and firstfruits of your hands and your vows and gifts, the
firstborn of your herds and your sheep.
12:7. And you shall eat there in the sight of the Lord your God:  and
you shall rejoice in all things, whereunto you shall put your hand, you
and your houses wherein the Lord your God hath blessed you.
12:8. You shall not do there the things we do here this day, every man
that which seemeth good to himself.
12:9. For until this present time you are not come to rest, and to the
possession, which the Lord your God will give you.
12:10. You shall pass over the Jordan, and shall dwell in the land
which the Lord your God will give you, that you may have rest from all
enemies round about:  and may dwell without any fear,
12:11. In the place, which the Lord your God shall choose, that his
name may be therein.  Thither shall you bring all the things that I
command you, holocausts, and victims, and tithes, and the firstfruits
of your hands:  and whatsoever is the choicest in the gifts which you
shall vow to the Lord.
12:12. There shall you feast before the Lord your God, you and your
sons and your daughters, your menservants and maidservants, and the
Levite that dwelleth in your cities.  For he hath no other part and
possession among you.
12:13. Beware lest thou offer thy holocausts in every place that thou
12:14. But in the place which the Lord shall choose in one of thy
tribes shalt thou offer sacrifices, and shalt do all that I command
12:15. But if thou desirest to eat, and the eating of flesh delight
thee, kill, and eat according to the blessing of the Lord thy God,
which he hath given thee, in thy cities:  whether it be unclean, that is
to say, having blemish or defect:  or clean, that is to say, sound and
without blemish, such as may be offered, as the roe, and the hart,
shalt thou eat it:
12:16. Only the blood thou shalt not eat, but thou shalt pour it out
upon the earth as water.
12:17. Thou mayst not eat in thy towns the tithes of thy corn, and thy
wine, and thy oil, the firstborn of thy herds and thy cattle, nor any
thing that thou vowest, and that thou wilt offer voluntarily, and the
firstfruits of thy hands:
12:18. But thou shalt eat them before the Lord thy God in the place
which the Lord thy God shall choose, thou and thy son and thy daughter,
and thy manservant, and maidservant, and the Levite that dwelleth in
thy cities:  and thou shalt rejoice and be refreshed before the Lord thy
God in all things, whereunto thou shalt put thy hand.
12:19. Take heed thou forsake not the Levite all the time that thou
livest in the land.
12:20. When the Lord thy God shall have enlarged thy borders, as he hath
spoken to thee, and thou wilt eat the flesh that thy soul desireth:
12:21. And if the place which the Lord thy God shall choose, that his
name should be there, be far off, thou shalt kill of thy herds and of
thy flocks, as I have commanded thee, and shalt eat in thy towns, as it
pleaseth thee.
12:22. Even as the roe and the hart is eaten, so shalt thou eat them:
both the clean and unclean shall eat of them alike.
12:23. Only beware of this, that thou eat not the blood, for the blood
is for the soul:  and therefore thou must not eat the soul with the
12:24. But thou shalt pour it upon the earth as water,
12:25. That it may be well with thee and thy children after thee, when
thou shalt do that which is pleasing in the sight of the Lord.
12:26. But the things which thou hast sanctified and vowed to the Lord,
thou shalt take, and shalt come to the place which the Lord shall
12:27. And shalt offer thy oblations, the flesh and the blood upon the
altar of the Lord thy God:  the blood of thy victims thou shalt pour on
the altar:  and the flesh thou thyself shalt eat.
12:28. Observe and hear all the things that I command thee, that it may
be well with thee and thy children after thee for ever, when thou shalt
do what is good and pleasing in the sight of the Lord thy God.
12:29. When the Lord thy God shall have destroyed before thy face the
nations, which thou shalt go in to possess, and when thou shalt possess
them, and dwell in their land:
12:30. Beware lest thou imitate them, after they are destroyed at thy
coming in, and lest thou seek after their ceremonies, saying:  As these
nations have worshipped their gods, so will I also worship.
12:31. Thou shalt not do in like manner to the Lord thy God.  For they
have done to their gods all the abominations which the Lord abhorreth,
offering their sons and daughters, and burning them with fire.
12:32. What I command thee, that only do thou to the Lord:  neither add
any thing, nor diminish.
That only do thou, etc. . .They are forbid here to follow the ceremonies
of the heathens; or to make any alterations in the divine ordinances.
Deuteronomy Chapter 13
False prophets must be slain, and idolatrous cities destroyed.
13:1. If there rise in the midst of thee a prophet or one that saith he
hath dreamed a dream, and he foretell a sign and a wonder,
13:2. And that come to pass which he spoke, and he say to thee:  Let us
go and follow strange gods, which thou knowest not, and let us serve
13:3. Thou shalt not hear the words of that prophet or dreamer:  for the
Lord your God trieth you, that it may appear whether you love him with
all your heart, and with all your soul, or not.
13:4. Follow the Lord your God, and fear him, and keep his
commandments, and hear his voice:  him you shall serve, and to him you
shall cleave.
13:5. And that prophet or forger of dreams shall be slain:  because he
spoke to draw you away from the Lord your God, who brought you out of
the land of Egypt, and redeemed you from the house of bondage:  to make
thee go out of the way, which the Lord thy God commanded thee:  and thou
shalt take away the evil out of the midst of thee.
13:6. If thy brother the son of thy mother, or thy son, or daughter, or
thy wife that is in thy bosom, or thy friend, whom thou lovest as thy
own soul, would persuade thee secretly, saying:  Let us go, and serve
strange gods, which thou knowest not, nor thy fathers,
13:7. Of all the nations round about, that are near or afar off, from
one end of the earth to the other,
13:8. Consent not to him, hear him not, neither let thy eye spare him
to pity and conceal him,
13:9. But thou shalt presently put him to death.  Let thy hand be first
upon him, and afterwards the hands of all the people.
Presently put him to death. . .Not by killing him by private authority,
but by informing the magistrate, and proceeding by order of justice.
13:10. With stones shall he be stoned to death:  because he would have
withdrawn thee from the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land
of Egypt, from the house of bondage:
13:11. That all Israel hearing may fear, and may do no more any thing
13:12. If in one of thy cities, which the Lord thy God shall give thee
to dwell in, thou hear some say:
13:13. Children of Belial are gone out of the midst of thee, and have
withdrawn the inhabitants of their city, and have said:  Let us go, and
serve strange gods which you know not:
Belial. . .That is, without yoke.  Hence the wicked, who refuse to be
subject to the divine law, are called in scripture the children of
13:14. Inquire carefully and diligently, the truth of the thing by
looking well into it, and if thou find that which is said to be
certain, and that this abomination hath been really committed,
13:15. Thou shalt forthwith kill the inhabitants of that city with the
edge of the sword, and shalt destroy it and all things that are in it,
even the cattle.
13:16. And all the household goods that are there, thou shalt gather
together in the midst of the streets thereof, and shall burn them with
the city itself, so as to comsume all for the Lord thy God, and that it
be a heap for ever:  it shall be built no more.
13:17. And there shall nothing of that anathema stick to thy hand:  that
the Lord may turn from the wrath of his fury, and may have mercy on
thee, and multiply thee as he swore to thy fathers,
13:18. When thou shalt hear the voice of the Lord thy God, keeping all
his precepts, which I command thee this day, that thou mayst do what is
pleasing in the sight of the Lord thy God.
Deuteronomy Chapter 14
In mourning for the dead they are not to follow the ways of the
Gentiles:  the distinction of clean and unclean meats:  ordinances
concerning tithes, and firstfruits.
14:1. Be ye children of the Lord your God:  you shall not cut
yourselves, nor make any baldness for the dead;
14:2. Because thou art a holy people to the Lord thy God:  and he chose
thee to be his peculiar people of all nations that are upon the earth.
14:3. Eat not the things that are unclean.
Unclean. . .See the annotations on Lev. 11.
14:4. These are the beasts that you shall eat, the ox, and the sheep,
and the goat,
14:5. The hart and the roe, the buffle, the chamois, the pygarg, the
wild goat, the camelopardalus.
14:6. Every beast that divideth the hoof in two parts, and cheweth the
cud, you shall eat.
14:7. But of them that chew the cud, but divide not the hoof, you shall
not eat, such as the camel, the hare, and the cherogril:  because they
chew the cud, but divide not the hoof, they shall be unclean to you.
14:8. The swine also, because it divideth the hoof, but cheweth not the
cud, shall be unclean, their flesh you shall not eat, and their
carcasses you shall not touch.
14:9. These shall you eat of all that abide in the waters:  All that
have fins and scales, you shall eat.
14:10. Such as are without fins and scales, you shall not eat, because
they are unclean.
14:11. All birds that are clean you shall eat.
14:12. The unclean eat not:  to wit, the eagle, and the grype, and the
14:13. The ringtail, and the vulture, and the kite according to their
14:14. And all of the raven's kind:
14:15. And the ostrich, and the owl, and the larus, and the hawk
according to its kind:
14:16. The heron, and the swan, and the stork,
14:17. And the cormorant, the porphirion, and the night crow,
14:18. The bittern, and the charadrion, every one in their kind:  the
houp also and the bat.
14:19. Every thing that creepeth, and hath little wings, shall be
unclean, and shall not be eaten.
14:20. All that is clean, you shall eat.
14:21. But whatsoever is dead of itself, eat not thereof.  Give it to
the stranger, that is within thy gates, to eat, or sell it to him:
because thou art the holy people of the Lord thy God.  Thou shalt not
boil a kid in the milk of his dam.
14:22. Every year thou shalt set aside the tithes of all thy fruits
that the earth bringeth forth,
14:23. And thou shalt eat before the Lord thy God in the place which he
shall choose, that his name may be called upon therein, the tithe of
thy corn, and thy wine, and thy oil, and the firstborn of thy herds and
thy sheep:  that thou mayst learn to fear the Lord thy God at all times.
14:24. But when the way and the place which the Lord thy God shall
choose, are far off, and he hath blessed thee, and thou canst not carry
all these things thither,
14:25. Thou shalt sell them all, and turn them into money, and shalt
carry it in thy hand, and shalt go to the place which the Lord shall
14:26. And thou shalt buy with the same money whatsoever pleaseth thee,
either of the herds or of sheep, wine also and strong drink, and all
that thy soul desireth:  and thou shalt eat before the Lord thy God, and
shalt feast, thou and thy house:
14:27. And the Levite that is within thy gates, beware thou forsake him
not, because he hath no other part in thy possession.
14:28. The third year thou shalt separate another tithe of all things
that grow to thee at that time, and shalt lay it up within thy gates.
14:29. And the Levite that hath no other part nor possession with thee,
and the stranger and the fatherless and the widow, that are within thy
gates, shall come and shall eat and be filled:  that the Lord thy God
may bless thee in all the works of thy hands that thou shalt do.
Deuteronomy Chapter 15
The law of the seventh year of remission.  The firstlings of cattle are
to be sanctified to the Lord.
15:1. In the seventh year thou shalt make a remission,
15:2. Which shall be celebrated in this order.  He to whom any thing is
owing from his friend or neighbour or brother, cannot demand it again,
because it is the year of remission of the Lord.
15:3. Of the foreigner or stranger thou mayst exact it:  of thy
countryman and neighbour thou shalt not have power to demand it again.
15:4. And there shall be no poor nor beggar among you:  that the Lord
thy God may bless thee in the land which he will give thee in
There shall be no poor, etc. . .It is not to be understood as a promise,
that there should be no poor in Israel, as appears from ver. 11, where
we learn that God's people would never be at a loss to find objects for
their charity:  but it is an ordinance that all should do their best
endeavours to prevent any of their brethren from suffering the
hardships of poverty and want.
15:5. Yet so if thou hear the voice of the Lord thy God, and keep all
things that he hath ordained, and which I command thee this day, he
will bless thee, as he hath promised.
15:6. Thou shalt lend to many nations, and thou shalt borrow of no man.
Thou shalt have dominion over very many nations, and no one shall have
dominion over thee.
15:7. If one of thy brethren that dwelleth within thy gates of thy city
in the land which the Lord thy God will give thee, come to poverty:
thou shalt not harden thy heart, nor close thy hand,
15:8. But shalt open it to the poor man, thou shalt lend him, that
which thou perceivest he hath need of.
15:9. Beware lest perhaps a wicked thought steal in upon thee, and thou
say in thy heart:  The seventh year of remission draweth nigh; and thou
turn away thy eyes from thy poor brother, denying to lend him that
which he asketh:  lest he cry against thee to the Lord, and it become a
sin unto thee.
15:10. But thou shalt give to him:  neither shalt thou do any thing
craftily in relieving his necessities:  that the Lord thy God may bless
thee at all times, and in all things to which thou shalt put thy hand.
15:11. There will not be wanting poor in the land of thy habitation:
therefore I command thee to open thy hand to thy needy and poor
brother, that liveth in the land.
15:12. When thy brother a Hebrew man, or Hebrew woman is sold to thee,
and hath served thee six years, in the seventh year thou shalt let him
15:13. And when thou sendest him out free, thou shalt not let him go
15:14. But shall give him for his way out of thy flocks, and out of thy
barnfloor, and thy winepress, wherewith the Lord thy God shall bless
15:15. Remember that thou also wast a bondservant in the land of Egypt,
and the Lord thy God made thee free, and therefore I now command thee
15:16. But if he say:  I will not depart:  because he loveth thee, and
thy house, and findeth that he is well with thee:
15:17. Thou shalt take an awl, and bore through his ear in the door of
thy house, and he shall serve thee for ever:  thou shalt do in like
manner to thy womanservant also.
15:18. Turn not away thy eyes from them when thou makest them free:
because he hath served thee six years according to the wages of a
hireling:  that the Lord thy God may bless thee in all the works that
15:19. Of the firstlings, that come of thy herds and thy sheep, thou
shalt sanctify to the Lord thy God whatsoever is of the male sex.  Thou
shalt not work with the firstling of a bullock, and thou shalt not
shear the firstlings of thy sheep.
15:20. In the sight of the Lord thy God shalt thou eat them every year,
in the place that the Lord shall choose, thou and thy house.
15:21. But if it have a blemish, or be lame, or blind, or in any part
disfigured or feeble, it shall not be sacrificed to the Lord thy God.
15:22. But thou shalt eat it within the gates of thy city:  the clean
and the unclean shall eat them alike, as the roe and as the hart.
15:23. Only thou shalt take heed not to eat their blood, but pour it
out on the earth as water.
Deuteronomy Chapter 16
The three principal solemnities to be observed:  just judges to be
appointed in every city:  all occasions of idolatry to be avoided.
16:1. Observe the month of new corn, which is the first of the spring,
that thou mayst celebrate the phase to the Lord thy God:  because in
this month the Lord thy God brought thee out of Egypt by night.
16:2. And thou shalt sacrifice the phase to the Lord thy God, of sheep,
and of oxen, in the place which the Lord thy God shall choose, that his
name may dwell there.
16:3. Thou shalt not eat with it leavened bread:  seven days shalt thou
eat without leaven, the bread of affliction, because thou camest out of
Egypt in fear:  that thou mayst remember the day of thy coming out of
Egypt, all the days of thy life.
16:4. No leaven shall be seen in all thy coasts for seven days, neither
shall any of the flesh of that which was sacrificed the first day in
the evening remain until morning.
16:5. Thou mayst not immolate the phase in any one of thy cities, which
the Lord thy God will give thee:
16:6. But in the place which the Lord thy God shall choose, that his
name may dwell there:  thou shalt immolate the phase in the evening, at
the going down of the sun, at which time thou camest out of Egypt.
16:7. And thou shalt dress, and eat it in the place which the Lord thy
God shall choose, and in the morning rising up thou shalt go into thy
16:8. Six days shalt thou eat unleavened bread:  and on the seventh day,
because it is the assembly of the Lord thy God, thou shalt do no work.
16:9. Thou shalt number unto thee seven weeks from that day, wherein
thou didst put the sickle to the corn.
16:10. And thou shalt celebrate the festival of weeks to the Lord thy
God, a voluntary oblation of thy hand, which thou shalt offer according
to the blessing of the Lord thy God.
16:11. And thou shalt feast before the Lord thy God, thou, and thy son,
and thy daughter, and thy manservant, and thy maidservant, and the
Levite that is within thy gates, and the stranger and the fatherless,
and the widow, who abide with you:  in the place which the Lord thy God
shall choose, that his name may dwell there:
16:12. And thou shalt remember that thou wast a servant in Egypt:  and
thou shalt keep and do the things that are commanded.
16:13. Thou shalt celebrate the solemnity also of tabernacles seven
days, when thou hast gathered in thy fruit of the barnfloor and of the
16:14. And thou shalt make merry in thy festival time, thou, thy son,
and thy daughter, thy manservant, and thy maidservant, the Levite also
and the stranger, and the fatherless and the widow that are within thy
16:15. Seven days shalt thou celebrate feasts to the Lord thy God in
the place which the Lord shall choose:  and the Lord thy God will bless
thee in all thy fruits, and in every work of thy hands, and thou shalt
16:16. Three times in a year shall all thy males appear before the Lord
thy God in the place which he shall choose:  in the feast of unleavened
bread, in the feast of weeks, and in the feast of tabernacles.  No one
shall appear with his hands empty before the Lord:
16:17. But every one shall offer according to what he hath, according
to the blessing of the Lord his God, which he shall give him.
16:18. Thou shalt appoint judges and magistrates in all thy gates,
which the Lord thy God shall give thee, in all thy tribes:  that they
may judge the people with just judgment,
16:19. And not go aside to either part.  Thou shalt not accept person
nor gifts:  for gifts blind the eyes of the wise, and change the words
of the just.
16:20. Thou shalt follow justly after that which is just:  that thou
mayst live and possess the land, which the Lord thy God shall give
16:21. Thou shalt plant no grove, nor any tree near the altar of the
Lord thy God:
16:22. Neither shalt thou make nor set up to thyself a statue:  which
things the Lord thy God hateth.
Deuteronomy Chapter 17
Victims must be without blemish.  Idolaters are to be slain.
Controversies are to be decided by the high priest and council, whose
sentence must be obeyed under pain of death.  The duty of a king, who is
to receive the law of God at the priest's hands.
17:1. Thou shalt not sacrifice to the Lord thy God a sheep, or an ox,
wherein there is blemish, or any fault:  for that is an abomination to
the Lord thy God.
17:2. When there shall be found among you within any of thy gates,
which the Lord thy God shall give thee, man or woman that do evil in
the sight of the Lord thy God, and transgress his covenant,
17:3. So as to go and serve strange gods, and adore them, the sun and
the moon, and all the host of heaven, which I have not commanded:
The host of heaven. . .That is, the stars.
17:4. And this is told thee, and hearing it thou hast inquired
diligently, and found it to be true, and that the abomination is
committed in Israel:
17:5. Thou shalt bring forth the man or the woman, who have committed
that most wicked thing, to the gates of thy city, and they shall be
17:6. By the mouth of two or three witnesses shall he die that is to be
slain.  Let no man be put to death, when only one beareth witness
against him.
17:7. The hands of the witnesses shall be first upon him to kill him,
and afterwards the hands of the rest of the people:  that thou mayst
take away the evil out of the midst of thee.
17:8. If thou perceive that there be among you a hard and doubtful
matter in judgment between blood and blood, cause and cause, leprosy
and leprosy:  and thou see that the words of the judges within thy gates
do vary:  arise, and go up to the place, which the Lord thy God shall
If thou perceive, etc. . .Here we see what authority God was pleased to
give to the church guides of the Old Testament, in deciding, without
appeal, all controversies relating to the law; promising that they
should not err therein; and surely he has not done less for the church
guides of the New Testament.
17:9. And thou shalt come to the priests of the Levitical race, and to
the judge, that shall be at that time:  and thou shalt ask of them, and
they shall shew thee the truth of the judgment.
17:10. And thou shalt do whatsoever they shall say, that preside in the
place, which the Lord shall choose, and what they shall teach thee,
17:11. According to his law; and thou shalt follow their sentence:
neither shalt thou decline to the right hand nor to the left hand.
17:12. But he that will be proud, and refuse to obey the commandment of
the priest, who ministereth at that time to the Lord thy God, and the
decree of the judge, that man shall die, and thou shalt take away the
evil from Israel:
17:13. And all the people hearing it shall fear, that no one afterwards
swell with pride.
17:14. When thou art come into the land, which the Lord thy God will
give thee, and possessest it, and shalt say:  I will set a king over me,
as all nations have that are round about:
17:15. Thou shalt set him whom the Lord thy God shall choose out of the
number of thy brethren.  Thou mayst not make a man of another nation
king, that is not thy brother.
17:16. And when he is made king, he shall not multiply horses to
himself, nor lead back the people into Egypt, being lifted up with the
number of his horsemen, especially since the Lord hath commanded you to
return no more the same way.
17:17. He shall not have many wives, that may allure his mind, nor
immense sums of silver and gold.
17:18. But after he is raised to the throne of his kingdom, he shall
copy out to himself the Deuteronomy of this law in a volume, taking the
copy of the priests of the Levitical tribe,
17:19. And he shall have it with him, and shall read it all the days of
his life, that he may learn to fear the Lord his God, and keep his
words and ceremonies, that are commanded in the law;
17:20. And that his heart be not lifted up with pride over his
brethren, nor decline to the right or to the left, that he and his sons
may reign a long time over Israel.
Deuteronomy Chapter 18
The Lord is the inheritance of the priests and Levites.  Heathenish
abominations are to be avoided.  The great PROPHET CHRIST is promised.
False prophets must be slain.
18:1. The priests and Levites, and all that are of the same tribe,
shall have no part nor inheritance with the rest of Israel, because
they shall eat the sacrifices of the Lord, and his oblations,
18:2. And they shall receive nothing else of the possession of their
brethren:  for the Lord himself is their inheritance, as he hath said to
18:3. This shall be the priest's due from the people, and from them
that offer victims:  whether they sacrifice an ox, or a sheep, they
shall give to the priest the shoulder and the breast:
18:4. The firstfruits also of corn, of wine, and of oil, and a part of
the wool from the shearing of their sheep.
18:5. For the Lord thy God hath chosen him of all thy tribes, to stand
and to minister to the name of the Lord, him and his sons for ever.
18:6. If a Levite go out of any one of the cities throughout all
Israel, in which he dwelleth, and have a longing mind to come to the
place which the Lord shall choose,
18:7. He shall minister in the name of the Lord his God, as all his
brethren the Levites do, that shall stand at that time before the Lord.
18:8. He shall receive the same portion of food that the rest do:
besides that which is due to him in his own city, by succession from
his fathers.
18:9. When thou art come into the land which the Lord thy God shall
give thee, beware lest thou have a mind to imitate the abominations of
those nations.
18:10. Neither let there be found among you any one that shall expiate
his son or daughter, making them to pass through the fire:  or that
consulteth soothsayers, or observeth dreams and omens, neither let
there be any wizard,
18:11. Nor charmer, nor any one that consulteth pythonic spirits, or
fortune tellers, or that seeketh the truth from the dead.
18:12. For the Lord abhorreth all these things, and for these
abominations he will destroy them at thy coming.
18:13. Thou shalt be perfect, and without spot before the Lord thy God.
18:14. These nations, whose land thou shalt possess, hearken to
soothsayers and diviners:  but thou art otherwise instructed by the Lord
18:15. The Lord thy God will raise up to thee a PROPHET of thy nation
and of thy brethren like unto me:  him thou shalt hear:
18:16. As thou desiredst of the Lord thy God in Horeb, when the
assembly was gathered together, and saidst:  Let me not hear any more
the voice of the Lord my God, neither let me see any more this
exceeding great fire, lest I die.
18:17. And the Lord said to me:  They have spoken all things well.
18:18. I will raise them up a prophet out of the midst of their
brethren like to thee:  and I will put my words in his mouth, and he
shall speak to them all that I shall command him.
18:19. And he that will not hear his words, which he shall speak in my
name, I will be the revenger.
18:20. But the prophet, who being corrupted with pride, shall speak in
my name things that I did not command him to say, or in the name of
strange gods, shall be slain.
18:21. And if in silent thought thou answer:  How shall I know the word
that the Lord hath not spoken?
18:22. Thou shalt have this sign:  Whatsoever that same prophet
foretelleth in the name of the Lord, and it cometh not to pass:  that
thing the Lord hath not spoken, but the prophet hath forged it by the
pride of his mind:  and therefore thou shalt not fear him.
Deuteronomy Chapter 19
The cities of refuge.  Wilful murder, and false witnesses must be
19:1. When the Lord thy God hath destroyed the nations, whose land he
will deliver to thee, and thou shalt possess it, and shalt dwell in the
cities and houses thereof:
19:2. Thou shalt separate to thee three cities in the midst of the
land, which the Lord will give thee in possession,
19:3. Paving diligently the way:  and thou shalt divide the whole
province of thy land equally into three parts:  that he who is forced to
flee for manslaughter, may have near at hand whither to escape.
19:4. This shall be the law of the slayer that fleeth, whose life is to
be saved:  He that killeth his neighbor ignorantly, and who is proved to
have had no hatred against him yesterday and the day before:
19:5. But to have gone with him to the wood to hew wood, and in cutting
down the tree the axe slipped out of his hand, and the iron slipping
from the handle struck his friend, and killed him:  he shall flee to one
of the cities aforesaid, and live:
19:6. Lest perhaps the next kinsman of him whose blood was shed, pushed
on by his grief should pursue, and apprehend him, if the way be too
long, and take away the life of him who is not guilty of death, because
he is proved to have had no hatred before against him that was slain.
19:7. Therefore I command thee, that thou separate three cities at
equal distance one from another.
19:8. And when the Lord thy God shall have enlarged thy borders, as he
swore to the fathers, and shall give thee all the land that he promised
19:9. (Yet so, if thou keep his commandments, and do the things which I
command thee this day, that thou love the Lord thy God, and walk in his
ways at all times) thou shalt add to thee other three cities, and shalt
double the number of the three cities aforesaid:
19:10. That innocent blood may not be shed in the midst of the land
which the Lord thy God will give thee to possess, lest thou be guilty
19:11. But if any man hating his neighbour, lie in wait for his life,
and rise and strike him, and he die, and he flee to one of the cities
19:12. The ancients of his city shall send, and take him out of the
place of refuge, and shall deliver him into the hand of the kinsman of
him whose blood was shed, and he shall die.
19:13. Thou shalt not pity him, and thou shalt take away the guilt of
innocent blood out of Israel, that it may be well with thee.
19:14. Thou shalt not take nor remove thy neighbour's landmark, which
thy predecessors have set in thy possession, which the Lord thy God
will give thee in the land that thou shalt receive to possess.
19:15. One witness shall not rise up against any man, whatsoever the
sin or wickedness be:  but in the mouth of two or three witnesses every
word shall stand.
19:16. If a lying witness stand against a man, accusing him of
transgression,
19:17. Both of them, between whom the controversy is, shall stand
before the Lord in the sight of the priests and the judges that shall
be in those days.
19:18. And when after most diligent inquisition, they shall find that
the false witness hath told a lie against his brother:
19:19. They shall render to him as he meant to do to his brother, and
thou shalt take away the evil out of the midst of thee:
19:20. That others hearing may fear, and may not dare to do such
19:21. Thou shalt not pity him, but shalt require life for life, eye
for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.
Deuteronomy Chapter 20
Laws relating to war.
20:1. If thou go out to war against thy enemies, and see horsemen and
chariots, and the numbers of the enemy's army greater than thine, thou
shalt not fear them:  because the Lord thy God is with thee, who brought
thee out of the land of Egypt.
20:2. And when the battle is now at hand, the priest shall stand before
the army, and shall speak to the people in this manner:
20:3. Hear, O Israel, you join battle this day against your enemies,
let not your heart be dismayed, be not afraid, do not give back, fear
ye them not:
20:4. Because the Lord your God is in the midst of you, and will fight
for you against your enemies, to deliver you from danger.
20:5. And the captains shall proclaim through every band in the hearing
of the army:  What man is there, that hath built a new house, and hath
not dedicated it?  let him go and return to his house, lest he die in
the battle, and another man dedicate it.
20:6. What man is there, that hath planted a vineyard, and hath not as
yet made it to be common, whereof all men may eat?  let him go, and
return to his house, lest he die in the battle, and another man execute
20:7. What man is there, that hath espoused a wife, and not taken her?
let him go, and return to his house, lest he die in the war, and
another man take her.
20:8. After these things are declared they shall add the rest, and
shall speak to the people:  What man is there that is fearful, and faint
hearted?  let him go, and return to his house, lest he make the hearts
of his brethren to fear, as he himself is possessed with fear.
20:9. And when the captains of the army shall hold their peace, and
have made an end of speaking, every man shall prepare their bands to
20:10. If at any time thou come to fight against a city, thou shalt
first offer it peace.
20:11. If they receive it, and open the gates to thee, all the people
that are therein, shall be saved, and shall serve thee paying tribute.
20:12. But if they will not make peace, and shall begin war against
thee, thou shalt besiege it.
20:13. And when the Lord thy God shall deliver it into thy hands, thou
shalt slay all that are therein of the male sex, with the edge of the
20:14. Excepting women and children, cattle and other things, that are
in the city.  And thou shalt divide all the prey to the army, and thou
shalt eat the spoils of thy enemies, which the Lord thy God shall give
20:15. So shalt thou do to all cities that are at a great distance from
thee, and are not of these cities which thou shalt receive in
20:16. But of those cities that shall be given thee, thou shalt suffer
none at all to live:
20:17. But shalt kill them with the edge of the sword, to wit, the
Hethite, and the Amorrhite, and the Chanaanite, the Pherezite, and the
Hevite, and the Jebusite, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee:
20:18. Lest they teach you to do all the abominations which they have
done to their gods:  and you should sin against the Lord your God.
20:19. When thou hast besieged a city a long time, and hath compassed
it with bulwarks, to take it, thou shalt not cut down the trees that
may be eaten of, neither shalt thou spoil the country round about with
axes:  for it is a tree, and not a man, neither can it increase the
number of them that fight against thee.
20:20. But if there be any trees that are not fruitful, but wild, and
fit for other uses, cut them down, and make engines, until thou take
the city, which fighteth against thee.
Deuteronomy Chapter 21
The expiation of a secret murder.  The marrying a captive.  The eldest
son must not be deprived of his birthright for hatred of his mother.  A
stubborn son is to be stoned to death.  When one is hanged on a gibbet,
he must be taken down the same day and buried.
21:1. When there shall be found in the land, which the Lord thy God
will give thee, the corpse of a man slain, and it is not known who is
guilty of the murder,
21:2. Thy ancients and judges shall go out, and shall measure from the
place where the body lieth the distance of every city round about:
21:3. And the ancients of that city which they shall perceive to be
nearer than the rest, shall take a heifer of the herd, that hath not
drawn in the yoke, nor ploughed the ground,
21:4. And they shall bring her into a rough and stony valley, that
never was ploughed, nor sown:  and there they shall strike off the head
of the heifer:
21:5. And the priests the sons of Levi shall come, whom the Lord thy
God hath chosen to minister to him, and to bless in his name, and that
by their word every matter should be decided, and whatsoever is clean
or unclean should be judged.
21:6. And the ancients of that city shall come to the person slain, and
shall wash their hands over the heifer that was killed in the valley,
21:7. And shall say:  Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our
eyes see it.
21:8. Be merciful to thy people Israel, whom thou hast redeemed, O
Lord, and lay not innocent blood to their charge, in the midst of thy
people Israel.  And the guilt of blood shall be taken from them:
21:9. And thou shalt be free from the innocent's blood, that was shed,
when thou shalt have done what the Lord hath commanded thee.
21:10. If thou go out to fight against thy enemies, and the Lord thy
God deliver them into thy hand, and thou lead them away captives,
21:11. And seest in the number of the captives a beautiful woman, and
lovest her, and wilt have her to wife,
21:12. Thou shalt bring her into thy house:  and she shall shave her
hair, and pare her nails,
21:13. And shall put off the raiment, wherein she was taken:  and shall
remain in thy house, and mourn for her father and mother one month:  and
after that thou shalt go in unto her, and shalt sleep with her, and she
shall be thy wife.
21:14. But if afterwards she please thee not, thou shalt let her go
free, but thou mayst not sell her for money nor oppress her by might
because thou hast humbled her.
21:15. If a man have two wives, one beloved, and the other hated, and
they have had children by him, and the son of the hated be the
21:16. And he meaneth to divide his substance among his sons:  he may
not make the son of the beloved the firstborn, and prefer him before
the son of the hated.
21:17. But he shall acknowledge the son of the hated for the firstborn,
and shall give him a double portion of all he hath:  for this is the
first of his children, and to him are due the first birthrights.
21:18. If a man have a stubborn and unruly son, who will not hear the
commandments of his father or mother, and being corrected, slighteth
21:19. They shall take him and bring him to the ancients of the city,
and to the gate of judgment,
21:20. And shall say to them:  This our son is rebellious and stubborn,
he slighteth hearing our admonitions, he giveth himself to revelling,
and to debauchery and banquetings:
21:21. The people of the city shall stone him:  and he shall die, that
you may take away the evil out of the midst of you, and all Israel
hearing it may be afraid.
21:22. When a man hath committed a crime for which he is to be punished
with death, and being condemned to die is hanged on a gibbet:
21:23. His body shall not remain upon the tree, but shall be buried the
same day:  for he is accursed of God that hangeth on a tree:  and thou
shalt not defile thy land, which the Lord thy God shall give thee in
Deuteronomy Chapter 22
Humanity towards neighbours.  Neither sex may use the apparel of the
other.  Cruelty to be avoided even to birds.  Battlements about the roof
of a house.  Things of divers kinds not to be mixed.  The punishment of
him that slandereth his wife, as also of adultery and rape.
22:1. Thou shalt not pass by if thou seest thy brother's ox, or his
sheep go astray:  but thou shalt bring them back to thy brother.
22:2. And if thy brother be not nigh, or thou know him not:  thou shalt
bring them to thy house, and they shall be with thee until thy brother
seek them, and receive them.
22:3. Thou shalt do in like manner with his ass, and with his raiment,
and with every thing that is thy brother's, which is lost:  if thou find
it, neglect it not as pertaining to another.
22:4. If thou see thy brother's ass or his ox to be fallen down in the
way, thou shalt not slight it, but shalt lift it up with him.
22:5. A woman shall not be clothed with man's apparel, neither shall a
man use woman's apparel:  for he that doth these things is abominable
22:6. If thou find as thou walkest by the way, a bird's nest in a tree,
or on the ground, and the dam sitting upon the young or upon the eggs:
thou shalt not take her with her young:
Thou shalt not take, etc.  This was to shew them to exercise a certain
mercy even to irrational creatures; and by that means to train them up
to a horror of cruelty; and to the exercise of humanity and mutual
charity one to another.
22:7. But shalt let her go, keeping the young which thou hast caught:
that it may be well with thee, and thou mayst live a long time.
22:8. When thou buildest a new house, thou shalt make a battlement to
the roof round about:  lest blood be shed in thy house, and thou be
guilty, if any one slip, and fall down headlong.
Battlement. . .This precaution was necessary, because all their houses
had flat tops, and it was usual to walk and to converse together upon
22:9. Thou shalt not sow thy vineyard with divers seeds:  lest both the
seed which thou hast sown, and the fruit of the vineyard, be sanctified
22:10. Thou shalt not plough with an ox and an ass together.
22:11. Thou shalt not wear a garment that is woven of woollen and linen
22:12. Thou shalt make strings in the hem at the four corners of thy
cloak, wherewith thou shalt be covered.
22:13. If a man marry a wife, and afterwards hate her,
22:14. And seek occasions to put her away, laying to her charge a very
ill name, and say:  I took this woman to wife, and going in to her, I
found her not a virgin:
22:15. Her father and mother shall take her, and shall bring with them
the tokens of her virginity to the ancients of the city that are in the
22:16. And the father shall say:  I gave my daughter unto this man to
wife:  and because he hateth her,
22:17. He layeth to her charge a very ill name, so as to say:  I found
not thy daughter a virgin:  and behold these are the tokens of my
daughter's virginity.  And they shall spread the cloth before the
ancients of the city:
22:18. And the ancients of that city shall take that man, and beat him,
22:19. Condemning him besides in a hundred sicles of silver, which he
shall give to the damsel's father, because he hath defamed by a very
ill name a virgin of Israel:  and he shall have her to wife, and may not
put her away all the days of his life.
22:20. But if what he charged her with be true, and virginity be not
found in the damsel:
22:21. They shall cast her out of the doors of her father's house, and
the men of the city shall stone her to death, and she shall die:
because she hath done a wicked thing in Israel, to play the whore in
her father's house:  and thou shalt take away the evil out of the midst
22:22. If a man lie with another man's wife, they shall both die, that
is to say, the adulterer and the adulteress:  and thou shalt take away
the evil out of Israel.
22:23. If a man have espoused a damsel that is a virgin, and some one
find her in the city, and lie with her,
22:24. Thou shalt bring them both out to the gate of that city, and
they shall be stoned:  the damsel, because she cried not out, being in
the city:  the man, because he hath humbled his neighbour's wife.  And
thou shalt take away the evil from the midst of thee.
22:25. But if a man find a damsel that is betrothed, in the field, and
taking hold of her, lie with her, he alone shall die:
22:26. The damsel shall suffer nothing, neither is she guilty of death:
for as a robber riseth against his brother, and taketh away his life,
so also did the damsel suffer:
22:27. She was alone in the field:  she cried, and there was no man to
22:28. If a man find a damsel that is a virgin, who is not espoused,
and taking her, lie with her, and the matter come to judgment:
22:29. He that lay with her shall give to the father of the maid fifty
sicles of silver, and shall have her to wife, because he hath humbled
her:  he may not put her away all the days of his life.
22:30. No man shall take his father's wife, nor remove his covering.
Deuteronomy Chapter 23
Who may and who may not enter into the church:  uncleanness to be
avoided:  other precepts concerning fugitives, fornication, usury, vows,
and eating other men's grapes and corn.
23:1. An eunuch, whose testicles are broken or cut away, or yard cut
off, shall not enter into the church of the Lord.
Eunuch. . .By these are meant, in the spiritual sense, such as are
barren in good works.  Ibid.  Into the church. . .That is, into the
assembly or congregation of Israel, so as to have the privilege of an
Israelite, or to be capable of any place or office among the people of
23:2. A mamzer, that is to say, one born of a prostitute, shall not
enter into the church of the Lord, until the tenth generation.
23:3. The Ammonite and the Moabite, even after the tenth generation
shall not enter into the church of the Lord for ever:
23:4. Because they would not meet you with bread and water in the way,
when you came out of Egypt:  and because they hired against thee Balaam,
the son of Beor, from Mesopotamia in Syria, to curse thee.
23:5. And the Lord thy God would not hear Balaam, and he turned his
cursing into thy blessing, because he loved thee.
23:6. Thou shalt not make peace with them, neither shalt thou seek
their prosperity all the days of thy life for ever.
23:7. Thou shalt not abhor the Edomite, because he is thy brother:  nor
the Egyptian, because thou wast a stranger in his land.
23:8. They that are born of them, in the third generation shall enter
into the church of the Lord.
23:9. When thou goest out to war against thy enemies, thou shalt keep
thyself from every evil thing.
23:10. If there be among you any man, that is defiled in a dream by
night, he shall go forth out of the camp,
23:11. And shall not return, before he be washed with water in the
evening:  and after sunset he shall return into the camp.
23:12. Thou shalt have a place without the camp, to which thou mayst go
for the necessities of nature,
23:13. Carrying a paddle at thy girdle.  And when thou sittest down,
thou shalt dig round about, and with the earth that is dug up thou
23:14. That which thou art eased of:  (for the Lord thy God walketh in
the midst of thy camp, to deliver thee, and to give up thy enemies to
thee:) and let thy camp be holy, and let no uncleanness appear therein,
lest he go away from thee.
No uncleanness. . .This caution against suffering any filth in the camp,
was to teach them to fly the filth of sin, which driveth God away from
23:15. Thou shalt not deliver to his master the servant that is fled to
23:16. He shall dwell with thee in the place that shall please him, and
shall rest in one of thy cities:  give him no trouble.
23:17. There shall be no whore among the daughters of Israel, nor
whoremonger among the sons of Israel.
23:18. Thou shalt not offer the hire of a strumpet, nor the price of a
dog, in the house of the Lord thy God, whatsoever it be that thou hast
vowed:  because both these are an abomination to the Lord thy God.
23:19. Thou shalt not lend to thy brother money to usury, nor corn, nor
any other thing:
23:20. But to the stranger.  To thy brother thou shalt lend that which
he wanteth, without usury:  that the Lord thy God may bless thee in all
thy works in the land, which thou shalt go in to possess.
To the stranger. . .This was a dispensation granted by God to his
people, who being the Lord of all things, can give a right and title to
one upon the goods of another.  Otherwise the scripture everywhere
condemns usury, as contrary to the law of God, and a crying sin.  See
Ex. 22.25; Lev. 25.36, 37; 2 Esd. 5.7; Ps. 14.5; Ezech. 18.8, 13, etc.
23:21. When thou hast made a vow to the Lord thy God, thou shalt not
delay to pay it:  because the Lord thy God will require it.  And if thou
delay, it shall be imputed to thee for a sin.
23:22. If thou wilt not promise, that shalt be without sin.
23:23. But that which is once gone out of thy lips, thou shalt observe,
and shalt do as thou hast promised to the Lord thy God, and hast spoken
with thy own will and with thy own mouth.
23:24. Going into thy neighbour's vineyard, thou mayst eat as many
grapes as thou pleasest:  but must carry none out with thee:
23:25. If thou go into thy friend's corn, thou mayst break the ears,
and rub them in thy hand:  but not reap them with a sickle.
Deuteronomy Chapter 24
Divorce permitted to avoid greater evil:  the newly married must not go
to war:  of men stealers, of leprosy, of pledges, of labourers' hire, of
justice, and of charity to the poor.
24:1. If a man take a wife, and have her, and she find not favour in
his eyes, for some uncleanness:  he shall write a bill of divorce, and
shall give it in her hand, and send her out of his house.
24:2. And when she is departed, and marrieth another husband,
24:3. And he also hateth her, and hath given her a bill of divorce, and
hath sent her out of his house or is dead:
24:4. The former husband cannot take her again to wife:  because she is
defiled, and is become abominable before the Lord:  lest thou cause thy
land to sin, which the Lord thy God shall give thee to possess.
24:5. When a man hath lately taken a wife, he shall not go out to war,
neither shall any public business be enjoined him, but he shall be free
at home without fault, that for one year he may rejoice with his wife.
24:6. Thou shalt not take the nether, nor the upper millstone to
pledge:  for he hath pledged his life to thee.
24:7. If any man be found soliciting his brother of the children of
Israel, and selling him shall take a price, he shall be put to death,
and thou shalt take away the evil from the midst of thee.
24:8. Observe diligently that thou incur not the stroke of the leprosy,
but thou shalt do whatsoever the priests of the Levitical race shall
teach thee, according to what I have commanded them, and fulfil thou it
24:9. Remember what the Lord your God did to Mary, in the way when you
came out of Egypt.
24:10. When thou shalt demand of thy neighbour any thing that he oweth
thee, thou shalt not go into his house to take away a pledge:
24:11. But thou shalt stand without, and he shall bring out to thee
what he hath.
24:12. But if he be poor, the pledge shall not lodge with thee that
24:13. But thou shalt restore it to him presently before the going down
of the sun:  that he may sleep in his own raiment and bless thee, and
thou mayst have justice before the Lord thy God.
24:14. Thou shalt not refuse the hire of the needy, and the poor,
whether he be thy brother, or a stranger that dwelleth with thee in the
land, and is within thy gates:
24:15. But thou shalt pay him the price of his labour the same day,
before the going down of the sun, because he is poor, and with it
maintaineth his life:  lest he cry against thee to the Lord, and it be
reputed to thee for a sin.
24:16. The fathers shall not be put to death for the children, nor the
children for the fathers, but every one shall die for his own sin,
24:17. Thou shalt not pervert the judgment of the stranger nor of the
fatherless, neither shalt thou take away the widow's raiment for a
24:18. Remember that thou wast a slave in Egypt, and the Lord thy God
delivered thee from thence.  Therefore I command thee to do this thing.
24:19. When thou hast reaped the corn in thy field, and hast forgot and
left a sheaf, thou shalt not return to take it away:  but thou shalt
suffer the stranger, and the fatherless and the widow to take it away:
that the Lord thy God may bless thee in all the works of thy hands.
24:20. If thou have gathered the fruit of thy olive trees, thou shalt
not return to gather whatsoever remaineth on the trees:  but shalt leave
it for the stranger, for the fatherless, and the widow.
24:21. If thou make the vintage of thy vineyard, thou shalt not gather
the clusters that remain, but they shall be for the stranger, the
fatherless, and the widow.
24:22. Remember that thou also wast a bondman in Egypt, and therefore I
command thee to do this thing.
Deuteronomy Chapter 25
Stripes must not exceed forty.  The ox is not to be muzzled.  Of raising
seed to the brother.  Of the immodest woman.  Of unjust weight.  Of
destroying the Amalecites.
25:1. If there be a controversy between men, and they call upon the
judges:  they shall give the prize of justice to him whom they perceive
to be just:  and him whom they find to be wicked, they shall condemn of
25:2. And if they see that the offender be worthy of stripes:  they
shall lay him down, and shall cause him to be beaten before them.
According to the measure of the sin shall the measure also of the
25:3. Yet so, that they exceed not the number of forty:  lest thy
brother depart shamefully torn before thy eyes.
25:4. Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out thy corn on the
Not muzzle, etc. . .St. Paul understands this of the spiritual labourer
in the church of God, who is not to be denied his maintenance.  1 Cor.
25:5. When brethren dwell together, and one of them dieth without
children, the wife of the deceased shall not marry to another:  but his
brother shall take her, and raise up seed for his brother:
25:6. And the first son he shall have of her he shall call by his name,
that his name be not abolished out of Israel.
25:7. But if he will not take his brother's wife, who by law belongeth
to him, the woman shall go to the gate of the city, and call upon the
ancients, and say:  My husband's brother refuseth to raise up his
brother's name in Israel:  and will not take me to wife.
25:8. And they shall cause him to be sent for forthwith, and shall ask
him.  If he answer:  I will not take her to wife:
25:9. The woman shall come to him before the ancients, and shall take
off his shoe from his foot, and spit in his face, and say:  So shall it
be done to the man that will not build up his brother's house:
25:10. And his name shall be called in Israel, the house of the unshod.
25:11. If two men have words together, and one begin to fight against
the other, and the other's wife willing to deliver her husband out of
the hand of the stronger, shall put forth her hand, and take him by the
25:12. Thou shalt cut off her hand, neither shalt thou be moved with
any pity in her regard.
25:13. Thou shalt not have divers weights in thy bag, a greater and a
25:14. Neither shall there be in thy house a greater bushel and a less.
25:15. Thou shalt have a just and a true weight, and thy bushel shall
be equal and true:  that thou mayest live a long time upon the land
which the Lord thy God shall give thee.
25:16. For the Lord thy God abhorreth him that doth these things, and
he hateth all injustice.
25:17. Remember what Amalec did to thee in the way when thou camest out
Amalec. . .This order for destroying the Amalecites, in the mystical
sense, sheweth how hateful they are to God, and what punishments they
are to look for from his justice, who attack and discourage his
servants when they are but just come out, as it were, of the Egypt of
this wicked world and being yet weak and fainthearted, are but
beginning their journey to the land of promise.
25:18. How he met thee:  and slew the hindmost of the army, who sat
down, being weary, when thou wast spent with hunger and labour, and he
feared not God.
25:19. Therefore when the Lord thy God shall give thee rest, and shall
have subdued all the nations round about in the land which he hath
promised thee:  thou shalt blot out his name from under heaven.  See thou
forget it not.
Deuteronomy Chapter 26
The form of words with which the firstfruits and tithes are to be
offered.  God's covenant.
26:1. And when thou art come into the land which the Lord thy God will
give thee to possess, and hast conquered it, and dwellest in it:
26:2. Thou shalt take the first of all thy fruits, and put them in a
basket, and shalt go to the place which the Lord thy God shall choose,
that his name may be invocated there:
26:3. And thou shalt go to the priest that shall be in those days, and
say to him:  I profess this day before the Lord thy God, that I am come
into the land, for which he swore to our fathers, that he would give it
26:4. And the priest taking the basket at thy hand, shall set it before
the altar of the Lord thy God:
26:5. And thou shalt speak thus in the sight of the Lord thy God:  The
Syrian pursued my father, who went down into Egypt, and sojourned there
in a very small number, and grew into a nation great and strong and of
an infinite multitude.
The Syrian. . .Laban.  See Gen. 27.
26:6. And the Egyptians afflicted us, and persecuted us, laying on us
most grievous burdens:
26:7. And we cried to the Lord God of our fathers:  who heard us, and
looked down upon our affliction, and labour, and distress:
26:8. And brought us out of Egypt with a strong hand, and a stretched
out arm, with great terror, with signs and wonders:
26:9. And brought us into this place, and gave us this land flowing
with milk and honey.
26:10. And therefore now I offer the firstfruits of the land which the
Lord hath given me.  And thou shalt leave them in the sight of the Lord
thy God, adoring the Lord thy God.
26:11. And thou shalt feast in all the good things which the Lord thy
God hath given thee, and thy house, thou and the Levite, and the
stranger that is with thee.
26:12. When thou hast made an end of tithing all thy fruits, in the
third year of tithes thou shalt give it to the Levite, and to the
stranger, and to the fatherless, and to the widow, that they may eat
within thy gates, and be filled:
26:13. And thou shalt speak thus in the sight of the Lord thy God:  I
have taken that which was sanctified out of my house, and I have given
it to the Levite, and to the stranger, and to the fatherless, and to
the widow, as thou hast commanded me:  I have not transgressed thy
commandments nor forgotten thy precepts.
26:14. I have not eaten of them in my mourning, nor separated them for
any uncleanness, nor spent any thing of them in funerals.  I have obeyed
the voice of the Lord my God, and have done all things as thou hast
commanded me.
26:15. Look from thy sanctuary, and thy high habitation of heaven, and
bless thy people Israel, and the land which thou hast given us, as thou
didst swear to our fathers, a land flowing with milk and honey.
26:16. This day the Lord thy God hath commanded thee to do these
commandments and judgments:  and to keep and fulfil them with all thy
heart, and with all thy soul.
26:17. Thou hast chosen the Lord this day to be thy God, and to walk in
his ways and keep his ceremonies, and precepts, and judgments, and obey
his command.
26:18. And the Lord hath chosen thee this day, to be his peculiar
people, as he hath spoken to thee, and to keep all his commandments:
26:19. And to make thee higher than all nations which he hath created,
to his own praise, and name, and glory:  that thou mayst be a holy
people of the Lord thy God, as he hath spoken.
Deuteronomy Chapter 27
The commandments must be written on stones:  and an altar erected, and
sacrifices offered.  The observers of the commandments are to be
blessed, and the transgressors cursed.
27:1. And Moses with the ancients of Israel commanded the people,
saying:  Keep every commandment that I command you this day.
27:2. And when you are passed over the Jordan into the land which the
Lord thy God will give thee, thou shalt set up great stones, and shalt
plaster them over with plaster,
27:3. That thou mayst write on them all the words of this law, when
thou art passed over the Jordan:  that thou mayst enter into the land
which the Lord thy God will give thee, a land flowing with milk and
honey, as he swore to thy fathers.
27:4. Therefore when you are passed over the Jordan, set up the stones
which I command you this day, in mount Hebal, and thou shalt plaster
them with plaster:
27:5. And thou shalt build there an altar to the Lord thy God, of
stones which iron hath not touched,
27:6. And of stones not fashioned nor polished:  and thou shalt offer
upon it holocausts to the Lord thy God:
27:7. And shalt immolate peace victims, and eat there, and feast before
the Lord thy God.
27:8. And thou shalt write upon the stones all the words of this law
plainly and clearly.
27:9. And Moses and the priests of the race of Levi said to all Israel:
Attend, and hear, O Israel:  This day thou art made the people of the
Lord thy God:
27:10. Thou shalt hear his voice, and do the commandments and justices
which I command thee.
27:11. And Moses commanded the people in that day, saying:
27:12. These shall stand upon mount Garizim to bless the people, when
you are passed the Jordan:  Simeon, Levi, Juda, Issachar, Joseph, and
27:13. And over against them shall stand on mount Hebal to curse:
Ruben, Gad, and Aser, and Zabulon, Dan, and Nephtali.
27:14. And the Levites shall pronounce, and say to all the men of
Israel with a loud voice:
27:15. Cursed be the man that maketh a graven and molten thing, the
abomination of the Lord, the work of the hands of artificers, and shall
put it in a secret place:  and all the people shall answer and say:
27:16. Cursed be he that honoureth not his father and mother:  and all
the people shall say:  Amen.
27:17. Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour's landmarks:  and all
the people shall say:  Amen.
27:18. Cursed be he that maketh the blind to wander out of his way:  and
all the people shall say:  Amen.
27:19. Cursed be he that perverteth the judgment of the stranger, of
the fatherless and the widow:  and all the people shall say:  Amen.
27:20. Cursed be he that lieth with his father's wife, and uncovereth
his bed:  and all the people shall say:  Amen.
27:21. Cursed be he that lieth with any beast:  and all the people shall
27:22. Cursed be he that lieth with his sister, the daughter of his
father, or of his mother:  and all the people shall say:  Amen.
27:23. Cursed be he that lieth with his mother-in-law:  and all the
people shall say:  Amen.
27:24. Cursed be he that secretly killeth his neighbour:  and all the
people shall say:  Amen.
27:25. Cursed be he that taketh gifts, to slay an innocent person:  and
all the people shall say:  Amen.
27:26. Cursed be he that abideth not in the words of this law, and
fulfilleth them not in work:  and all the people shall say:  Amen.
Deuteronomy Chapter 28
Many blessings are promised to observers of God's commandments:  and
curses threatened to transgressors.
28:1. Now if thou wilt hear the voice of all his commandments, which I
command thee this day, the Lord thy God will make thee higher than all
the nations that are on the earth.
28:2. And all these blessings shall come upon thee and overtake thee:
yet so if thou hear his precepts.
All these blessings, etc. . .In the Old Testament, God promised temporal
blessings to the keepers of his law, heaven not being opened as yet;
and that gross and sensual people being more moved with present and
sensible things.  But in the New Testament the goods that are promised
us are spiritual and eternal; and temporal evils are turned into
28:3. Blessed shalt thou be in the city, and blessed in the field.
28:4. Blessed shall be the fruit of thy womb, and the fruit of thy
ground, and the fruit of thy cattle, the droves of thy herds, and the
folds of thy sheep.
28:5. Blessed shall be thy barns and blessed thy stores.
28:6. Blessed shalt thou be coming in and going out.
28:7. The Lord shall cause thy enemies, that rise up against thee, to
fall down before thy face:  one way shall they come out against thee,
and seven ways shall they flee before thee.
28:8. The Lord will send forth a blessing upon thy storehouses, and
upon all the works of thy hands:  and will bless thee in the land that
thou shalt receive.
28:9. The Lord will raise thee up to be a holy people to himself, as he
swore to thee:  if thou keep the commandments of the Lord thy God, and
walk in his ways.
28:10. And all the people of the earth shall see that the name of the
Lord is invocated upon thee, and they shall fear thee.
28:11. The Lord will make thee abound with all goods, with the fruit of
thy womb, and the fruit of thy cattle, with the fruit of thy land,
which the Lord swore to thy fathers that he would give thee.
28:12. The Lord will open his excellent treasure, the heaven, that it
may give rain in due season:  and he will bless all the works of thy
hands.  And thou shalt lend to many nations, and shalt not borrow of any
28:13. And the Lord shall make thee the head and not the tail:  and thou
shalt be always above, and not beneath:  yet so if thou wilt hear the
commandments of the Lord thy God which I command thee this day, and
keep and do them,
28:14. And turn not away from them neither to the right hand, nor to
the left, nor follow strange gods, nor worship them.
28:15. But if thou wilt not hear the voice of the Lord thy God, to keep
and to do all his commandments and ceremonies, which I command thee
this day, all these curses shall come upon thee, and overtake thee.
All these curses, etc. . .Thus God dealt with the transgressors of his
law in the Old Testament:  but now he often suffers sinners to prosper
in this world, rewarding them for some little good they have done, and
reserving their punishment for the other world.
28:16. Cursed shalt thou be in the city, cursed in the field.
28:17. Cursed shall be thy barn, and cursed thy stores.
28:18. Cursed shall be the fruit of thy womb, and the fruit of thy
ground, the herds of thy oxen, and the flocks of thy sheep.
28:19. Cursed shalt thou be coming in, and cursed going out.
28:20. The Lord shall send upon thee famine and hunger, and a rebuke
upon all the works which thou shalt do:  until he consume and destroy
thee quickly, for thy most wicked inventions, by which thou hast
forsaken me.
28:21. May the Lord set the pestilence upon thee, until he consume thee
out of the land, which thou shalt go in to possess.
28:22. May the Lord afflict thee with miserable want, with the fever
and with cold, with burning and with heat, and with corrupted air and
with blasting, and pursue thee till thou perish.
28:23. Be the heaven, that is over thee, of brass:  and the ground thou
treadest on, of iron.
28:24. The Lord give thee dust for rain upon thy land, and let ashes
come down from heaven upon thee, till thou be consumed.
28:25. The Lord make thee to fall down before thy enemies, one way
mayst thou go out against them, and flee seven ways, and be scattered
throughout all the kingdoms of the earth.
28:26. And be thy carcass meat for all the fowls of the air, and the
beasts of the earth, and be there none to drive them away.
28:27. The Lord strike thee with the ulcer of Egypt, and the part of
thy body, by which the dung is cast out, with the scab and with the
itch:  so that thou canst not be healed.
28:28. The Lord strike thee with madness and blindness and fury of
28:29. And mayst thou grope at midday as the blind is wont to grope in
the dark, and not make straight thy ways.  And mayst thou at all times
suffer wrong, and be oppressed with violence, and mayst thou have no
one to deliver thee.
28:30. Mayst thou take a wife, and another sleep with her.  Mayst thou
build a house, and not dwell therein.  Mayest thou plant a vineyard and
not gather the vintage thereof.
28:31. May thy ox be slain before thee, and thou not eat thereof.  May
thy ass be taken away in thy sight, and not restored to thee.  May thy
sheep be given to thy enemies, and may there be none to help thee.
28:32. May thy sons and thy daughters be given to another people, thy
eyes looking on, and languishing at the sight of them all the day, and
may there be no strength in thy hand.
28:33. May a people which thou knowest not, eat the fruits of thy land,
and all thy labours:  and mayst thou always suffer oppression, and be
crushed at all times.
28:34. And be astonished at the terror of those things which thy eyes
28:35. May the Lord strike thee with a very sore ulcer in the knees and
in the legs, and be thou incurable from the sole of the foot to the top
of the head.
28:36. The Lord shall bring thee, and thy king, whom thou shalt have
appointed over thee, into a nation which thou and thy fathers know not:
and there thou shalt serve strange gods, wood and stone.
28:37. And thou shalt be lost, as a proverb and a byword to all people,
among whom the Lord shall bring thee in.
28:38. Thou shalt cast much seed into the ground, and gather little:
because the locusts shall consume all.
28:39. Thou shalt plant a vineyard, and dig it, and shalt not drink the
wine, nor gather any thing thereof:  because it shall be wasted with
28:40. Thou shalt have olive trees in all thy borders, and shalt not be
anointed with the oil:  for the olives shall fall off and perish.
28:41. Thou shalt beget sons and daughters, and shalt not enjoy them:
because they shall be led into captivity.
28:42. The blast shall consume all the trees and the fruits of thy
28:43. The stranger that liveth with thee in the land, shall rise up
over thee, and shall be higher:  and thou shalt go down, and be lower.
28:44. He shall lend to thee, and thou shalt not lend to him.  He shall
be as the head, and thou shalt be the tail.
28:45. And all these curses shall come upon thee, and shall pursue and
overtake thee, till thou perish:  because thou heardst not the voice of
the Lord thy God, and didst not keep his commandments and ceremonies
which he commanded thee.
28:46. And they shall be as signs and wonders on thee, and on thy seed
28:47. Because thou didst not serve the Lord thy God with joy and
gladness of heart, for the abundance of all things:
28:48. Thou shalt serve thy enemy, whom the Lord will send upon thee,
in hunger, and thirst, and nakedness, and in want of all things:  and he
shall put an iron yoke upon thy neck, till he consume thee.
28:49. The Lord will bring upon thee a nation from afar, and from the
uttermost ends of the earth, like an eagle that flyeth swiftly, whose
tongue thou canst not understand,
28:50. A most insolent nation, that will shew no regard to the
ancients, nor have pity on the infant,
28:51. And will devour the fruit of thy cattle, and the fruits of thy
land:  until thou be destroyed, and will leave thee no wheat, nor wine,
nor oil, nor herds of oxen, nor flocks of sheep:  until he destroy thee.
28:52. And consume thee in all thy cities, and thy strong and high wall
be brought down, wherein thou trustedst in all thy land.  Thou shalt be
besieged within thy gates in all thy land which the Lord thy God will
28:53. And thou shalt eat the fruit of thy womb, and the flesh of thy
sons and of thy daughters, which the Lord thy God shall give thee, in
the distress and extremity wherewith thy enemy shall oppress thee.
28:54. The man that is nice among you, and very delicate, shall envy
his own brother, and his wife, that lieth in his bosom,
28:55. So that he will not give them of the flesh of his children,
which he shall eat:  because he hath nothing else in the siege and the
want, wherewith thy enemies shall distress thee within all thy gates.
28:56. The tender and delicate woman, that could not go upon the
ground, nor set down her foot for over much niceness and tenderness,
will envy her husband who lieth in her bosom, the flesh of her son, and
of her daughter,
28:57. And the filth of the afterbirths, that come forth from between
her thighs, and the children that are born the same hour.  For they
shall eat them secretly for the want of all things, in the siege and
distress, wherewith thy enemy shall oppress thee within thy gates.
28:58. If thou wilt not keep, and fulfil all the words of this law,
that are written in this volume, and fear his glorious and terrible
name:  that is, The Lord thy God:
28:59. The Lord shall increase thy plagues, and the plagues of thy
seed, plagues great and lasting, infirmities grievous and perpetual.
28:60. And he shall bring back on thee all the afflictions of Egypt,
which thou wast afraid of, and they shall stick fast to thee.
28:61. Moreover the Lord will bring upon thee all the diseases, and
plagues, that are not written in the volume of this law till he consume
28:62. And you shall remain few in number, who before were as the stars
of heaven for multitude, because thou heardst not the voice of the Lord
28:63. And as the Lord rejoiced upon you before doing good to you, and
multiplying you:  so he shall rejoice destroying and bringing you to
nought, so that you shall be taken away from the land which thou shalt
go in to possess.
28:64. The Lord shall scatter thee among all people, from the farthest
parts of the earth to the ends thereof:  and there thou shalt serve
strange gods, which both thou art ignorant of and thy fathers, wood and
28:65. Neither shalt thou be quiet, even in those nations, nor shall
there be any rest for the sole of thy foot.  For the Lord will give thee
a fearful heart, and languishing eyes, and a soul consumed with
pensiveness:
28:66. And thy life shall be as it were hanging before thee.  Thou shalt
fear night and day, neither shalt thou trust thy life.
28:67. In the morning thou shalt say:  Who will grant me evening?  and at
evening:  Who will grant me morning?  for the fearfulness of thy heart,
wherewith thou shalt be terrified, and for those things which thou
shalt see with thy eyes.
28:68. The Lord shall bring thee again with ships into Egypt, by the
way whereof he said to thee that thou shouldst see it no more.  There
shalt thou be set to sale to thy enemies for bondmen and bondwomen, and
no man shall buy you.
Deuteronomy Chapter 29
The covenant is solemnly confirmed between God and his people.  Threats
against those that shall break it.
29:1. These are the words of the covenant which the Lord commanded
Moses to make with the children of Israel in the land of Moab:  beside
that covenant which he made with them in Horeb.
29:2. And Moses called all Israel, and said to them:  You have seen all
the things that the Lord did before you in the land of Egypt to Pharao,
and to all his servants, and to his whole land.
29:3. The great temptations, which thy eyes have seen, those mighty
signs and wonders,
29:4. And the Lord hath not given you a heart to understand, and eyes
to see, and ears that may hear, unto this present day.
Hath not given you, etc. . .Through your own fault and because you
resisted his grace.
29:5. He hath brought you forty years through the desert:  your garments
are not worn out, neither are the shoes of your feet consumed with age.
29:6. You have not eaten bread, nor have you drunk wine or strong
drink:  that you might know that I am the Lord your God.
29:7. And you came to this place:  and Sehon king of Hesebon, and Og
king of Basan, came out against us to fight.  And we slew them.
29:8. And took their land, and delivered it for a possession to Ruben
and Gad, and the half tribe of Manasses.
29:9. Keep therefore the words of this covenant, and fulfil them:  that
you may understand all that you do.
29:10. You all stand this day before the Lord your God, your princes,
and tribes, and ancients, and doctors, all the people of Israel,
29:11. Your children and your wives, and the stranger that abideth with
thee in the camp, besides the hewers of wood, and them that bring
29:12. That thou mayst pass in the covenant of the Lord thy God, and in
the oath which this day the Lord thy God maketh with thee.
29:13. That he may raise thee up a people to himself, and he may be thy
God as he hath spoken to thee, and as he swore to thy fathers Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob.
29:14. Neither with you only do I make this covenant, and confirm these
29:15. But with all that are present and that are absent.
29:16. For you know how we dwelt in the land of Egypt, and how we have
passed through the midst of nations, and passing through them,
29:17. You have seen their abominations and filth, that is to say,
their idols, wood and stone, silver and gold, which they worshipped.
29:18. Lest perhaps there should be among you a man or a woman, a
family or a tribe, whose heart is turned away this day from the Lord
our God, to go and serve the gods of those nations:  and there should be
among you a root bringing forth gall and bitterness.
29:19. And when he shall hear the words of this oath, he should bless
himself in his heart saying:  I shall have peace, and will walk on in
the naughtiness of my heart:  and the drunken may consume the thirsty,
The drunken, etc., absumat ebria sitientem. . .It is a proverbial
expression, which may either be understood, as spoken by the sinner,
blessing, that is, flattering himself in his sins with the imagination
of peace, and so great an abundance as may satisfy, and as it were,
consume all thirst and want:  or it may be referred to the root of
bitterness, spoken of before, which being drunken with sin may attract,
and by that means consume, such as thirst after the like evils.
29:20. And the Lord should not forgive him:  but his wrath and jealousy
against that man should be exceedingly enkindled at that time, and all
the curses that are written in this volume should light upon him:  and
the Lord should blot out his name from under heaven,
29:21. And utterly destroy him out of all the tribes of Israel,
according to the curses that are contained in the book of this law and
29:22. And the following generation shall say, and the children that
shall be born hereafter, and the strangers that shall come from afar,
seeing the plagues of that land and the evils wherewith the Lord hath
afflicted it,
29:23. Burning it with brimstone, and the heat of salt, so that it
cannot be sown any more, nor any green thing grow therein, after the
example of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrha, Adama and Seboim,
which the Lord destroyed in his wrath and indignation:
29:24. And all the nations shall say:  Why hath the Lord done thus to
this land?  what meaneth this exceeding great heat of his wrath?
29:25. And they shall answer:  Because they forsook the covenant of the
Lord, which he made with their fathers, when he brought them out of the
land of Egypt:
29:26. And they have served strange gods, and adored them, whom they
knew not, and for whom they had not been assigned:
29:27. Therefore the wrath of the Lord was kindled against this land,
to bring upon it all the curses that are written in this volume:
29:28. And he hath cast them out of their land, in anger and in wrath,
and in very great indignation, and hath thrown them into a strange
land, as it is seen this day.
29:29. Secret things to the Lord our God:  things that are manifest, to
us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this
Secret things, etc. . .As much as to say, secret things belong to, and
are known to, God alone; our business must be to observe what he has
revealed and manifested to us, and to direct our lives accordingly.
Deuteronomy Chapter 30
Great mercies are promised to the penitent:  God's commandment is
feasible.  Life and death are set before them.
30:1. Now when all these things shall be come upon thee, the blessing
or the curse, which I have set forth before thee, and thou shalt be
touched with repentance of thy heart among all the nations, into which
the Lord thy God shall have scattered thee,
30:2. And shalt return to him, and obey his commandments, as I command
thee this day, thou and thy children, with all thy heart, and with all
30:3. The Lord thy God will bring back again thy captivity, and will
have mercy on thee, and gather thee again out of all the nations, into
which he scattered thee before.
30:4. If thou be driven as far as the poles of heaven, the Lord thy God
will fetch thee back from hence,
30:5. And will take thee to himself, and bring thee into the land which
thy fathers possessed, and thou shalt possess it:  and blessing thee, he
will make thee more numerous than were thy fathers.
30:6. The Lord thy God will circumcise thy heart, and the heart of thy
seed:  that thou mayst love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with
all thy soul, that thou mayst live.
30:7. And he will turn all these curses upon thy enemies, and upon them
that hate and persecute thee.
30:8. But thou shalt return, and hear the voice of the Lord thy God,
and shalt do all the commandments which I command thee this day:
30:9. And the Lord thy God will make thee abound in all the works of
thy hands, in the fruit of thy womb, and in the fruit of thy cattle, in
the fruitfulness of thy land, and in the plenty of all things.  For the
Lord will return to rejoice over thee in all good things, as he
rejoiced in thy fathers:
30:10. Yet so if thou hear the voice of the Lord thy God, and keep his
precepts and ceremonies, which are written in this law:  and return to
the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul.
30:11. This commandment, that I command thee this day is not above
thee, nor far off from thee:
30:12. Nor is it in heaven, that thou shouldst say:  Which of us can go
up to heaven to bring it unto us, and we may hear and fulfil it in
30:13. Nor is it beyond the sea:  that thou mayst excuse thyself, and
say:  Which of us can cross the sea, and bring it unto us:  that we may
hear, and do that which is commanded?
30:14. But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth and in thy
heart, that thou mayst do it.
30:15. Consider that I have set before thee this day life and good, and
on the other hand death and evil:
30:16. That thou mayst love the Lord thy God, and walk in his ways, and
keep his commandments and ceremonies and judgments, and bless thee in
the land, which thou shalt go in to possess.
30:17. But if thy heart be turned away, so that thou wilt not hear, and
being deceived with error thou adore strange gods, and serve them:
30:18. I foretell thee this day that thou shalt perish, and shalt
remain but a short time in the land, to which thou shalt pass over the
Jordan, and shalt go in to possess it.
30:19. I call heaven and earth to witness this day, that I have set
before you life and death, blessing and cursing.  Choose therefore life,
that both thou and thy seed may live:
30:20. And that thou mayst love the Lord thy God, and obey his voice,
and adhere to him (for he is thy life, and the length of thy days,)
that thou mayst dwell in the land, for which the Lord swore to thy
fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that he would give it them.
Deuteronomy Chapter 31
Moses encourageth the people, and Josue, who is appointed to succeed
him.  He delivereth the law to the priests.  God foretelleth that the
people will often forsake him, and that he will punish them.  He
commandeth Moses to write a canticle, as a constant remembrancer of the
31:1. And Moses went, and spoke all these words to all Israel,
31:2. And he said to them:  I am this day a hundred and twenty years
old, I can no longer go out and come in, especially as the Lord also
hath said to me:  Thou shalt not pass over this Jordan.
31:3. The Lord thy God then will pass over before thee:  he will destroy
all these nations in thy sight, and thou shalt possess them:  and this
Josue shall go over before thee, as the Lord hath spoken.
31:4. And the Lord shall do to them as he did to Sehon and Og the kings
of the Amorrhites, and to their land, and shall destroy them.
31:5. Therefore when the Lord shall have delivered these also to you,
you shall do in like manner to them as I have commanded you.
31:6. Do manfully and be of good heart:  fear not, nor be ye dismayed at
their sight:  for the Lord thy God he himself is thy leader, and will
not leave thee nor forsake thee.
31:7. And Moses called Josue, and said to him before all Israel:  Take
courage, and be valiant:  for thou shalt bring this people into the land
which the Lord swore he would give to their fathers, and thou shalt
divide it by lot.
31:8. And the Lord who is your leader, he himself will be with thee:  he
will not leave thee, nor forsake thee:  fear not, neither be dismayed.
31:9. And Moses wrote this law, and delivered it to the priests the
sons of Levi, who carried the ark of the covenant of the Lord, and to
all the ancients of Israel.
31:10. And he commanded them, saying:  After seven years, in the year of
remission, in the feast of tabernacles,
31:11. When all Israel come together, to appear in the sight of the
Lord thy God in the place which the Lord shall choose, thou shalt read
the words of this law before all Israel, in their hearing.
31:12. And the people being all assembled together, both men and women,
children and strangers, that are within thy gates:  that hearing they
may learn, and fear the Lord your God, and keep, and fulfil all the
words of this law:
31:13. That their children also, who now are ignorant, may hear, and
fear the Lord their God, all the days that they live in the land
whither you are going over the Jordan to possess it.
31:14. And the Lord said to Moses:  Behold the days of thy death are
nigh:  call Josue, and stand ye in the tabernacle of the testimony, that
I may give him a charge.  So Moses and Josue went and stood in the
tabernacle of the testimony:
31:15. And the Lord appeared there in the pillar of a cloud, which
stood in the entry of the tabernacle.
31:16. And the Lord said to Moses:  Behold thou shalt sleep with thy
fathers, and this people rising up will go a fornicating after strange
gods in the land, to which it goeth in to dwell:  there will they
forsake me, and will make void the covenant, which I have made with
31:17. And my wrath shall be kindled against them in that day:  and I
will forsake them, and will hide my face from them, and they shall be
devoured:  all evils and afflictions shall find them, so that they shall
say in that day:  In truth it is because God is not with me, that these
evils have found me.
31:18. But I will hide, and cover my face in that day, for all the
evils which they have done, because they have followed strange gods.
31:19. Now therefore write you this canticle, and teach the children of
Israel:  that they may know it by heart, and sing it by mouth, and this
song may be unto me for a testimony among the children of Israel.
31:20. For I will bring them into the land, for which I swore to their
fathers, that floweth with milk and honey.  And when they have eaten,
and are full and fat, they will turn away after strange gods, and will
serve them:  and will despise me, and make void my covenant.
31:21. And after many evils and afflictions shall have come upon them,
this canticle shall answer them for a testimony, which no oblivion
shall take away out of the mouth of their seed.  For I know their
thoughts, and what they are about to do this day, before that I bring
them into the land which I have promised them.
31:22. Moses therefore wrote the canticle, and taught it to the
children of Israel.
31:23. And the Lord commanded Josue the son of Nun, and said:  Take
courage, and be valiant:  for thou shalt bring the children of Israel
into the land which I have promised, and I will be with thee.
31:24. Therefore after Moses had wrote the words of this law in a
volume, and finished it:
31:25. He commanded the Levites, who carried the ark of the covenant of
the Lord, saying:
31:26. Take this book, and put it in the side of the ark of the
covenant of the Lord your God:  that it may be there for a testimony
against thee.
31:27. For I know thy obstinacy, and thy most stiff neck.  While I am
yet living, and going in with you, you have always been rebellious
against the Lord:  how much more when I shall be dead?
31:28. Gather unto me all the ancients of your tribes, and your
doctors, and I will speak these words in their hearing, and will call
heaven and earth to witness against them.
31:29. For I know that, after my death, you will do wickedly, and will
quickly turn aside form the way that I have commanded you:  and evils
shall come upon you in the latter times, when you shall do evil in the
sight of the Lord, to provoke him by the works of your hands.
31:30. Moses therefore spoke, in the hearing of the whole assembly of
Israel, the words of this canticle, and finished it even to the end.
Deuteronomy Chapter 32
A canticle for the remembrance of the law.  Moses is commanded to go up
into a mountain, from whence he shall see the promised land but not
enter into it.
32:1. Hear, O ye heavens, the things I speak, let the earth give ear to
the words of my mouth.
32:2. Let my doctrine gather as the rain, let my speech distil as the
dew, as a shower upon the herb, and as drops upon the grass.
32:3. Because I will invoke the name of the Lord:  give ye magnificence
32:4. The works of God are perfect, and all his ways are judgments:  God
is faithful and without any iniquity, he is just and right.
32:5. They have sinned against him, and are none of his children in
their filth:  they are a wicked and perverse generation.
32:6. Is this the return thou makest to the Lord, O foolish and
senseless people?  Is not he thy father, that hath possessed thee, and
made thee, and created thee?
32:7. Remember the days of old, think upon every generation:  ask thy
father, and he will declare to thee:  thy elders and they will tell
32:8. When the Most High divided the nations:  when he separated the
sons of Adam, he appointed the bounds of people according to the number
of the children of Israel.
32:9. But the Lord's portion is his people:  Jacob the lot of his
inheritance.
32:10. He found him in a desert land, in a place of horror, and of vast
wilderness:  he led him about, and taught him:  and he kept him as the
apple of his eye.
32:11. As the eagle enticing her young to fly, and hovering over them,
he spread his wings, and hath taken him and carried him on his
32:12. The Lord alone was his leader:  and there was no strange god with
32:13. He set him upon high land:  that he might eat the fruits of the
fields, that he might suck honey out of the rock, and oil out of the
hardest stone,
32:14. Butter of the herd, and milk of the sheep with the fat of lambs,
and of the rams of the breed of Basan:  and goats with the marrow of
wheat, and might drink the purest blood of the grape.
32:15. The beloved grew fat, and kicked:  he grew fat, and thick and
gross, he forsook God who made him, and departed from God his saviour.
32:16. They provoked him by strange gods, and stirred him up to anger,
with their abominations.
32:17. They sacrificed to devils and not to God:  to gods whom they knew
not:  that were newly come up, whom their fathers worshipped not.
32:18. Thou hast forsaken the God that begot thee, and hast forgotten
the Lord that created thee.
32:19. The Lord saw, and was moved to wrath:  because his own sons and
daughters provoked him.
32:20. And he said:  I will hide my face from them, and will consider
what their last end shall be:  for it is a perverse generation, and
unfaithful children.
32:21. They have provoked me with that which was no god, and have
angered me with their vanities:  and I will provoke them with that which
is no people, and will vex them with a foolish nation.
32:22. A fire is kindled in my wrath, and shall burn even to the lowest
hell:  and shall devour the earth with her increase, and shall burn the
foundations of the mountains.
32:23. I will heap evils upon them, and will spend my arrows among
32:24. They shall be consumed with famine, and birds shall devour them
with a most bitter bite:  I will send the teeth of beasts upon them,
with the fury of creatures that trail upon the ground, and of serpents.
32:25. Without, the sword shall lay them waste, and terror within, both
the young man and the virgin, the sucking child with the man in years.
32:26. I said:  Where are they?  I will make the memory of them to cease
from among men.
32:27. But for the wrath of the enemies I have deferred it:  lest
perhaps their enemies might be proud, and should say:  Our mighty hand,
and not the Lord, hath done all these things.
32:28. They are a nation without counsel, and without wisdom.
32:29. O that they would be wise and would understand, and would
provide for their last end.
32:30. How should one pursue after a thousand, and two chase ten
thousand?  Was it not, because their God had sold them, and the Lord had
shut them up?
32:31. For our God is not as their gods:  our enemies themselves are
32:32. Their vines are of the vineyard of Sodom, and of the suburbs of
Gomorrha:  their grapes are grapes of gall, and their clusters most
32:33. Their wine is the gall of dragons, and the venom of asps, which
is incurable.
32:34. Are not these things stored up with me, and sealed up in my
32:35. Revenge is mine, and I will repay them in due time, that their
foot may slide:  the day of destruction is at hand, and the time makes
haste to come.
32:36. The Lord will judge his people, and will have mercy on his
servants:  he shall see that their hand is weakened, and that they who
were shut up have also failed, and they that remained are consumed.
32:37. And he shall say:  Where are their gods, in whom they trusted?
32:38. Of whose victims they ate the fat, and drank the wine of their
drink offerings:  let them arise and help you, and protect you in your
32:39. See ye that I alone am, and there is no other God besides me:  I
will kill and I will make to live:  I will strike, and I will heal, and
there is none that can deliver out of my hand.
32:40. I will lift up my hand to heaven, and I will say:  I live for
32:41. If I shall whet my sword as the lightning, and my hand take hold
on judgment:  I will render vengeance to my enemies, and repay them that
32:42. I will make my arrows drunk with blood, and my sword shall
devour flesh, of the blood of the slain and of the captivity, of the
bare head of the enemies.
32:43. Praise his people, ye nations, for he will revenge the blood of
his servants:  and will render vengeance to their enemies, and he will
be merciful to the land of his people.
32:44. So Moses came and spoke all the words of this canticle in the
ears of the people, and Josue the son of Nun.
32:45. And he ended all these words, speaking to all Israel.
32:46. And he said to them:  Set your hearts on all the words, which I
testify to you this day:  which you shall command your children to
observe and to do, and to fulfil all that is written in this law:
32:47. For they are not commanded you in vain, but that every one
should live in them, and that doing them you may continue a long time
in the land whither you are going over the Jordan to possess it.
32:48. And the Lord spoke to Moses the same day, saying:
32:49. Go up into this mountain Abarim, (that is to say, of passages,)
unto mount Nebo, which is in the land of Moab over against Jericho:  and
see the land of Chanaan, which I will deliver to the children of Israel
to possess, and die thou in the mountain.
32:50. When thou art gone up into it thou shalt be gathered to thy
people, as Aaron thy brother died in mount Hor, and was gathered to his
32:51. Because you trespassed against me in the midst of the children
of Israel, at the waters of contradiction, in Cades of the desert of
Sin:  and you did not sanctify me among the children of Israel.
32:52. Thou shalt see the land before thee, which I will give to the
children of Israel, but thou shalt not enter into it.
Deuteronomy Chapter 33
Moses before his death blesseth the tribes of Israel.
33:1. This is the blessing, wherewith the man of God, Moses, blessed
the children of Israel, before his death.
33:2. And he said:  The Lord came from Sinai, and from Seir he rose up
to us:  he hath appeared from mount Pharan, and with him thousands of
saints.  In his right hand a fiery law.
33:3. He hath loved the people, all the saints are in his hand:  and
they that approach to his feet, shall receive of his doctrine.
33:4. Moses commanded us a law, the inheritance of the multitude of
33:5. He shall be king with the most right, the princes of the people,
being assembled with the tribes of Israel.
33:6. Let Ruben live, and not die, and be he small in number.
33:7. This is the blessing of Juda.  Hear, O Lord, the voice of Juda,
and bring him in unto his people:  his hands shall fight for him, and he
shall be his helper against his enemies.
33:8. To Levi also he said:  Thy perfection, and thy doctrine be to thy
holy man, whom thou hast proved in the temptation, and judged at the
waters of contradiction:
Holy man. . .Aaron and his successors in the priesthood.
33:9. Who hath said to his father, and to his mother:  I do not know
you; and to his brethren:  I know you not:  and their own children they
have not known.  These have kept thy word, and observed thy covenant,
Who hath said, etc. . .It is the duty of the priestly tribe to prefer
God's honour and service before all considerations of flesh and blood:
in such manner as to behave as strangers to their nearest akin, when
these would withdraw them from the business of their calling.
33:10. Thy judgments, O Jacob, and thy law, O Israel:  they shall put
incense in thy wrath and holocaust upon thy altar.
33:11. Bless, O Lord, his strength, and receive the works of his hands.
Strike the backs of his enemies, and let not them that hate him rise.
33:12. And to Benjamin he said:  The best beloved of the Lord shall
dwell confidently in him:  as in a bride chamber shall he abide all the
day long, and between his shoulders shall be rest.
Shall dwell, etc. . .This seems to allude to the temple being built in
the confines of the tribe of Benjamin.
33:13. To Joseph also he said:  Of the blessing of the Lord be his land,
of the fruits of heaven, and of the dew, and of the deep that lieth
33:14. Of the fruits brought forth by the sun and by the moon.
33:15. Of the tops of the ancient mountains, of the fruits of the
everlasting hills:
33:16. And of the fruits of the earth, and of the fulness thereof.  The
blessing of him that appeared in the bush, come upon the head of
Joseph, and upon the crown of the Nazarite among his brethren.
The Nazarite. . .See the note on Gen. 49.26.
33:17. His beauty as of the firstling of a bullock, his horns as the
horns of a rhinoceros:  with them shall he push the nations even to the
ends of the earth.  These are the multitudes of Ephraim and these the
thousands of Manasses.
33:18. And to Zabulon he said:  Rejoice, O Zabulon, in thy going out;
and Issachar in thy tabernacles.
33:19. They shall call the people to the mountain:  there shall they
sacrifice the victims of justice.  Who shall suck as milk the abundance
of the sea, and the hidden treasures of the sands.
33:20. And to Gad he said:  Blessed be Gad in his breadth:  he hath
rested as a lion, and hath seized upon the arm and the top of the head.
33:21. And he saw his pre-eminence, that in his portion the teacher was
laid up:  who was with the princes of the people, and did the justices
of the Lord, and his judgment with Israel.
He saw, etc. . .The pre-eminence of the tribe of Gad, to which this
alludeth, was their having the lawgiver Moses buried in their borders;
though the particular place was not known.
33:22. To Dan also he said:  Dan is a young lion, he shall flow
plentifully from Basan.
33:23. And To Nephtali he said:  Nephtali shall enjoy abundance, and
shall be full of the blessings of the Lord:  he shall possess the sea
and the south.
The sea. . .The lake of Genesareth.
33:24. To Aser also he said:  Let Aser be blessed with children, let him
be acceptable to his brethren, and let him dip his foot in oil.
33:25. His shoe shall be iron and brass.  As the days of thy youth, so
also shall thy old age be.
33:26. There is no other god like the God of the rightest:  he that is
mounted upon the heaven is thy helper.  By his magnificence the clouds
run hither and thither.
33:27. His dwelling is above, and underneath are the everlasting arms:
he shall cast out the enemy from before thee, and shall say:  Be thou
brought to nought.
Underneath are the everlasting arms. . .Though the dwelling of God be
above in heaven, his arms are always stretched out to help us here
33:28. Israel shall dwell in safety, and alone.  The eye of Jacob in a
land of corn and wine, and the heavens shall be misty with dew.
33:29. Blessed art thou, Israel:  who is like to thee, O people, that
art saved by the Lord?  the shield of thy help, and the sword of thy
glory:  thy enemies shall deny thee, and thou shalt tread upon their
Deuteronomy Chapter 34
Moses seeth the promised land, but is not suffered to go into it.  He
dieth at the age of 120 years.  God burieth his body secretly, and all
Israel mourn for him thirty days.  Josue, replenished (by imposition of
Moses's hands) with the spirit of God, succeedeth.  But Moses, for his
special familiarity with God, and for most wonderful miracles, is
commended above all other prophets.
34:1. Then Moses went up from the plains of Moab upon mount Nebo, to
the top of Phasga over against Jericho:  and the Lord shewed him all the
land of Galaad as far as Dan.
34:2. And all Nephtali, and the land of Ephraim and Manasses, and all
the land of Juda unto the furthermost sea,
34:3. And the south part, and the breadth of the plain of Jericho the
city of palm trees as far as Segor.
34:4. And the Lord said to him:  This is the land, for which I swore to
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, saying:  I will give it to thy seed.  Thou
hast seen it with thy eyes, and shalt not pass over to it.
34:5. And Moses the servant of the Lord died there, in the land of
Moab, by the commandment of the Lord:
Died there. . .This last chapter of Deuteronomy, in which the death of
Moses is related, was written by Josue, or by some of the prophets.
34:6. And he buried him in the valley of the land of Moab over against
Phogor:  and no man hath known of his sepulchre until this present day.
He buried him, viz. . .by the ministry of angels, and would have the
place of his burial to be unknown, lest the Israelites, who were so
prone to idolatry, might worship him with divine honours.
34:7. Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died:  his eye
was not dim, neither were his teeth moved.
34:8. And the children of Israel mourned for him in the plains of Moab
thirty days:  and the days of their mourning in which they mourned Moses
34:9. And Josue the son of Nun was filled with the spirit of wisdom,
because Moses had laid his hands upon him.  And the children of Israel
obeyed him, and did as the Lord commanded Moses.
34:10. And there arose no more a prophet in Israel like unto Moses,
whom the Lord knew face to face,
34:11. In all the signs and wonders, which he sent by him, to do in the
land of Egypt to Pharao, and to all his servants, and to his whole
34:12. And all the mighty hand, and great miracles, which Moses did
before all Israel.
THE BOOK OF JOSUE
This Book is called JOSUE, because it contains the history of what
passed under him, and according to the common opinion was written by
him.  The Greeks call him Jesus:  for Josue and Jesus in the Hebrew, are
the same name, and have the same signification, viz., A SAVIOUR.  And it
was not without a mystery that he who was to bring the people into the
land of promise should have his name changed from OSEE (for so he was
called before, Num. 13.17,) to JOSUE or JESUS, to give us to
understand, that Moses by his law could only bring the people within
sight of the promised inheritance, but that our Saviour JESUS was to
bring us into it.
Josue Chapter 1
Josue, encouraged by the Lord, admonisheth the people to prepare
themselves to pass over the Jordan.
1:1. Now it came to pass after the death of Moses, the servant of the
Lord, that the Lord spoke to Josue, the son of Nun, the minister of
Moses, and said to him:
1:2. Moses my servant is dead:  arise, and pass over this Jordan, thou
and thy people with thee, into the land which I will give to the
children of Israel.
1:3. I will deliver to you every place that the sole of your foot shall
tread upon, as I have said to Moses.
1:4. From the desert, and from Libanus unto the great river Euphrates,
all the land of the Hethites, unto the great sea toward the going down
of the sun, shall be your border.
1:5. No man shall be able to resist you all the days of thy life:  as I
have been with Moses, so will I be with thee:  I will not leave thee,
nor forsake thee.
1:6. Take courage, and be strong:  for thou shalt divide by lot to this
people the land for which I swore to their fathers, that I would
deliver it to them.
1:7. Take courage therefore, and be very valiant:  that thou mayst
observe and do all the law, which Moses my servant hath commanded thee:
turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayst
understand all things which thou dost.
1:8. Let not the book of this law depart from thy mouth:  but thou shalt
meditate on it day and night, that thou mayst observe and do all things
that are written in it:  then shalt thou direct thy way, and understand
1:9. Behold I command thee, take courage, and be strong.  Fear not, and
be not dismayed:  because the Lord thy God is with thee in all things
whatsoever thou shalt go to.
1:10. And Josue commanded the princes of the people, saying:  Pass
through the midst of the camp, and command the people, and say:
1:11. Prepare your victuals:  for after the third day you shall pass
over the Jordan, and shall go in to possess the land, which the Lord
your God will give you.
1:12. And he said to the Rubenites, and the Gadites, and the half tribe
of Manasses:
1:13. Remember the word, which Moses the servant of the Lord commanded
you, saying:  The Lord your God hath given you rest, and all this land.
1:14. Your wives, and children; and cattle, shall remain in the land
which Moses gave you on this side of the Jordan:  but pass you over
armed before your brethren all of you that are strong of hand, and
fight for them,
1:15. Until the Lord give rest to your brethren, as he hath given you,
and they also possess the land which the Lord your God will give them:
and so you shall return into the land of your possession, and you shall
dwell in it, which Moses the servant of the Lord gave you beyond the
Jordan, toward the rising of the sun.
1:16. And they made answer to Josue, and said:  All that thou hast
commanded us, we will do:  and whither soever thou shalt send us, we
1:17. As we obeyed Moses in all things, so will we obey thee also:  only
be the Lord thy God with thee, as he was with Moses.
1:18. He that shall gainsay thy mouth, and not obey all thy words, that
thou shalt command him, let him die:  only take thou courage, and do
Josue Chapter 2
Two spies are sent to Jericho, who are received and concealed by Rahab.
2:1. And Josue, the son of Nun, sent from Setim two men, to spy
secretly:  and said to them:  Go, and view the land, and the city of
Jericho.  They went, and entered into the house of a woman that was a
harlot, named Rahab, and lodged with her.
2:2. And it was told the king of Jericho, and was said:  Behold there
are men come in hither, by night, of the children of Israel, to spy the
2:3. And the king of Jericho sent to Rahab, saying:  Bring forth the men
that came to thee, and are entered into thy house:  for they are spies,
and are come to view all the land.
2:4. And the woman taking the men, hid them, and said:  I confess they
came to me, but I knew not whence they were:
2:5. And at the time of shutting the gate in the dark, they also went
out together.  I know not whither they are gone:  pursue after them
quickly, and you will overtake them.
2:6. But she made the men go up to the top of her house, and covered
them with the stalks of flax, which was there.
2:7. Now they that were sent, pursued after them, by the way that
leadeth to the fords of the Jordan:  and as soon as they were gone out,
the gate was presently shut.
2:8. The men that were hid were not yet asleep, when behold the woman
went up to them, and said:
2:9. I know that the Lord hath given this land to you:  for the dread of
you is fallen upon us, and all the inhabitants of the land have lost
all strength.
2:10. We have heard that the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea, at
your going in, when you came out of Egypt:  and what things you did to
the two kings of the Amorrhites, that were beyond the Jordan, Sehon and
Og whom you slew.
2:11. And at the hearing these things, we were affrighted, and our
heart fainted away, neither did there remain any spirit in us, at your
coming in:  for the Lord your God he is God in heaven above, and in the
earth beneath.
2:12. Now, therefore, swear ye to me by the Lord, that as I have shewed
mercy to you, so you also will shew mercy to my father's house:  and
give me a true token.
2:13. That you will save my father and mother, my brethren and sisters,
and all things that are theirs, and deliver our souls from death.
2:14. They answered her:  Be our lives for you unto death, only if thou
betray us not.  And when the Lord shall have delivered us the land, we
will shew thee mercy and truth.
2:15. Then she let them down with a cord out of a window:  for her house
joined close to the wall.
2:16. And she said to them:  Get ye up to the mountains, lest perhaps
they meet you as they return:  and there lie ye hid three days, till
they come back, and so you shall go on your way.
2:17. And they said to her:  We shall be blameless of this oath, which
thou hast made us swear,
2:18. If, when we come into the land, this scarlet cord be a sign, and
thou tie it in the window, by which thou hast let us down:  and gather
together thy father and mother, and brethren, and all thy kindred into
2:19. Whosoever shall go out of the door of thy house, his blood shall
be upon his own head, and we shall be quit.  But the blood of all that
shall be with thee in the house, shall light upon our head, if any man
2:20. But if thou wilt betray us, and utter this word abroad, we shall
be quit of this oath, which thou hast made us swear.
2:21. And she answered:  As you have spoken, so be it done:  and sending
them on their way, she hung the scarlet cord in the window.
2:22. But they went and came to the mountains, and stayed there three
days, till they that pursued them were returned.  For having sought them
through all the way, they found them not.
2:23. And when they were gone back into the city, the spies returned,
and came down from the mountain:  and passing over the Jordan, they came
to Josue, the son of Nun, and told him all that befel them,
2:24. And said:  the Lord hath delivered all this land into our hands,
and all the inhabitants thereof are overthrown with fear.
Josue Chapter 3
The river Jordan is miraculously dried up for the passage of the
children of Israel.
3:1. And Josue rose before daylight, and removed the camp:  and they
departed from Setim, and came to the Jordan:  he, and all the children
of Israel, and they abode there for three days.
3:2. After which, the heralds went through the midst of the camp,
3:3. And began to proclaim:  When you shall see the ark of the covenant
of the Lord your God, and the priests of the race of Levi carrying it,
rise you up also, and follow them as they go before:
3:4. And let there be between you and the ark the space of two thousand
cubits:  that you may see it afar off, and know which way you must go:
for you have not gone this way before:  and take care you come not near
3:5. And Josue said to the people:  Be ye sanctified:  for tomorrow the
Lord will do wonders among you.
3:6. And he said to the priests:  Take up the ark of the covenant, and
go before the people.  And they obeyed his commands, and took it up, and
walked before them.
3:7. And the Lord said to Josue:  This day will I begin to exalt thee
before Israel:  that they may know that as I was with Moses, so I am
with thee also.
3:8. And do thou command the priests, that carry the ark of the
covenant, and say to them:  When you shall have entered into part of the
water of the Jordan, stand in it.
3:9. And Josue said to the children of Israel:  Come hither, and hear
the word of the Lord your God.
3:10. And again he said:  By this you shall know, that the Lord, the
living God, is in the midst of you, and that he shall destroy, before
your sight, the Chanaanite and the Hethite, the Hevite and the
Pherezite, the Gergesite also, and the Jebusite, and the Amorrhite.
3:11. Behold, the ark of the covenant of the Lord of all the earth
shall go before you into the Jordan.
3:12. Prepare ye twelve men of the tribes of Israel, one of every
3:13. And when the priests, that carry the ark of the Lord the God of
the whole earth, shall set the soles of their feet in the waters of the
Jordan, the waters that are beneath shall run down and go off:  and
those that come from above, shall stand together upon a heap.
3:14. So the people went out of their tents, to pass over the Jordan:
and the priests that carried the ark of the covenant, went on before
3:15. And as soon as they came into the Jordan, and their feet were
dipped in part of the water, (now the Jordan, it being harvest time,
had filled the banks of its channel,)
3:16. The waters that came down from above stood in one place, and
swelling up like a mountain, were seen afar off, from the city that is
called Adom, to the place of Sarthan:  but those that were beneath, ran
down into the sea of the wilderness, (which now is called the Dead Sea)
until they wholly failed.
3:17. And the people marched over against Jericho:  and the priests that
carried the ark of the covenant of the Lord, stood girded upon the dry
ground in the midst of the Jordan, and all the people passed over,
through the channel that was dried up.
Josue Chapter 4
Twelve stones are taken out of the river to be set up for a monument of
the miracle; and other twelve are placed in the midst of the river.
4:1. And when they were passed over, the Lord said to Josue:
4:2. Choose twelve men, one of every tribe:
4:3. And command them to take out of the midst of the Jordan, where the
feet of the priests stood, twelve very hard stones, which you shall set
in the place of the camp, where you shall pitch your tents this night.
4:4. And Josue called twelve men, whom he had chosen out of the
children of Israel, one out of every tribe,
4:5. And he said to them:  Go before the ark of the Lord your God to the
midst of the Jordan, and carry from thence every man a stone on your
shoulders, according to the number of the children of Israel,
4:6. That it may be a sign among you:  and when your children shall ask
you tomorrow, saying:  What means these stones?
4:7. You shall answer them:  The waters of the Jordan ran off before the
ark of the covenant of the Lord when it passed over the same:  therefore
were these stones set for a monument of the children of Israel forever.
4:8. The children of Israel therefore did as Josue commanded them,
carrying out of the channel of the Jordan twelve stones, as the Lord
had commanded him according to the number of the children of Israel
unto the place wherein they camped, and there they set them.
4:9. And Josue put other twelve stones in the midst of the channel of
the Jordan, where the priests stood that carried the ark of the
covenant:  and they are there until this present day.
4:10. Now the priests that carried the ark, stood in the midst of the
Jordan, till all things were accomplished, which the Lord had commanded
Josue to speak to the people, and Moses had said to him.  And the people
made haste, and passed over.
4:11. And when they had all passed over, the ark also of the Lord
passed over, and the priests went before the people.
4:12. The children of Ruben also, and Gad, and half the tribe of
Manasses, went armed before the children of Israel, as Moses had
commanded them.
4:13. And forty thousand fighting men by their troops and bands,
marched through the plains and fields of the city of Jericho.
4:14. In that day the Lord magnified Josue in the sight of all Israel,
that they should fear him, as they had feared Moses, while he lived.
4:15. And he said to him:
4:16. Command the priests, that carry the ark of the covenant, to come
up out of the Jordan.
4:17. And he commanded them, saying:  Come ye up out of the Jordan.
4:18. And when they that carried the ark of the covenant of the Lord,
were come up, and began to tread on the dry ground, the waters returned
into their channel, and ran as they were wont before.
4:19. And the people came up out of the Jordan, the tenth day of the
first month, and camped in Galgal, over against the east side of the
city of Jericho.
4:20. And the twelve stones, which they had taken out of the channel of
the Jordan, Josue pitched in Galgal,
4:21. And said to the children of Israel:  When your children shall ask
their fathers tomorrow, and shall say to them:  What mean these stones?
4:22. You shall teach them, and say:  Israel passed over this Jordan
through the dry channel,
4:23. The Lord your God drying up the waters thereof in your sight,
until you passed over:
4:24. As he had done before in the Red Sea, which he dried up till we
passed through:
4:25. That all the people of the earth may learn the most mighty hand
of the Lord, that you also may fear the Lord your God for ever.
Josue Chapter 5
The people are circumcised:  they keep the pasch.  The manna ceaseth.  An
angel appeareth to Josue.
5:1. Now when all the kings of the Amorrhites, who dwelt beyond the
Jordan, westward, and all the kings of Chanaan, who possessed the
places near the great sea, had heard that the Lord had dried up the
waters of the Jordan before the children of Israel, till they passed
over, their heart failed them, and there remained no spirit in them,
fearing the coming in of the children of Israel.
5:2. At that time the Lord said to Josue:  Make thee knives of stone,
and circumcise the second time the children of Israel.
The second time. . .Not that such as had been circumcised before were to
be circumcised again; but that they were now to renew, and take up
again the practice of circumcision; which had been omitted during their
forty years' sojourning in the wilderness; by reason of their being
always uncertain when they should be obliged to march.
5:3. He did what the Lord had commanded, and he circumcised the
children of Israel in the hill of the foreskins.
5:4. Now this is the cause of the second circumcision:  All the people
that came out of Egypt that were males, all the men fit for war, died
in the desert, during the time of the long going about in the way:
5:6. Now these were all circumcised.  But the people that were born in
5:6. During the forty years of the journey in the wide wilderness, were
uncircumcised:  till all they were consumed that had not heard the voice
of the Lord, and to whom he had sworn before, that he would not shew
them the land flowing with milk and honey.
5:7. The children of these succeeded in the place of their fathers, and
were circumcised by Josue:  for they were uncircumcised even as they
were born, and no one had circumcised them in the way.
5:8. Now after they were all circumcised, they remained in the same
place of the camp, until they were healed.
5:9. And the Lord said to Josue:  This day have I taken away from you
the reproach of Egypt.  And the name of that place was called Galgal,
until this present day.
5:10. And the children of Israel abode in Galgal, and they kept the
phase, on the fourteenth day of the month at evening, in the plains of
5:11. And they ate on the next day unleavened bread of the corn of the
land, and frumenty of the same year.
5:12. And the manna ceased after they ate of the corn of the land,
neither did the children of Israel use that food any more, but they ate
of the corn of the present year of the land of Chanaan.
5:13. And when Josue was in the field of the city of Jericho, he lifted
up his eyes, and saw a man standing over against him, holding a drawn
sword, and he went to him, and said:  Art thou one of ours, or of our
adversaries?
5:14. And he answered:  No:  but I am prince of the host of the Lord, and
now I am come.
Prince of the host of the Lord, etc. . .St. Michael, who is called
prince of the people of Israel, Dan. 10.21.
5:15. Josue fell on his face to the ground.  And worshipping, said:  What
saith my lord to his servant?
Worshipping. . .Not with divine honour, but with a religious veneration
of an inferior kind, suitable to the dignity of his person.
5:16. Loose, saith he, thy shoes from off thy feet:  for the place
whereon thou standest is holy.  And Josue did as was commanded him.
Josue Chapter 6
After seven days' processions, the priests sounding the trumpets, the
walls of Jericho fall down:  and the city is taken and destroyed.
6:1. Now Jericho was close shut up and fenced, for fear of the children
of Israel, and no man durst go out or come in.
6:2. And the Lord said to Josue:  Behold I have given into thy hands
Jericho, and the king thereof, and all the valiant men.
6:3. Go round about the city all ye fighting men once a day:  so shall
ye do for six days.
6:4. And on the seventh day the priests shall take the seven trumpets,
which are used in the jubilee, and shall go before the ark of the
covenant:  and you shall go about the city seven times, and the priests
shall sound the trumpets.
6:5. And when the voice of the trumpet shall give a longer and broken
tune, and shall sound in your ears, all the people shall shout together
with a very great shout, and the walls of the city shall fall to the
ground, and they shall enter in every one at the place against which
they shall stand.
6:6. Then Josue, the son of Nun, called the priests, and said to them:
Take the ark of the covenant:  and let seven other priests take the
seven trumpets of the jubilee, and march before the ark of the Lord.
6:7. And he said to the people:  Go, and compass the city, armed,
marching before the ark of the Lord.
6:8. And when Josue had ended his words, and the seven priests blew the
seven trumpets before the ark of the covenant of the Lord,
6:9. And all the armed men went before, the rest of the common people
followed the ark, and the sound of the trumpets was heard on all sides.
6:10. But Josue had commanded the people, saying:  You shall not shout,
nor shall your voice be heard, nor any word go out of your mouth:  until
the day come wherein I shall say to you:  Cry, and shout.
6:11. So the ark of the Lord went about the city once a day, and
returning into the camp, abode there.
6:12. And Josue rising before day, the priests took the ark of the
6:13. And seven of them seven trumpets, which are used in the jubilee:
and they went before the ark of the Lord, walking and sounding the
trumpets:  and the armed men went before them, and the rest of the
common people followed the ark, and they blew the trumpets.
6:14. And they went round about the city the second day once, and
returned into the camp.  So they did six days.
6:15. But the seventh day, rising up early, they went about the city,
as it was ordered, seven times.
6:16. And when in the seventh going about the priests sounded with the
trumpets, Josue said to all Israel:  Shout:  for the Lord hath delivered
the city to you:
6:17. And let this city be an anathema, and all things that are in it,
to the Lord.  Let only Rahab, the harlot, live, with all that are with
her in the house:  for she hid the messengers whom we sent.
6:18. But beware ye lest you touch ought of those things that are
forbidden, and you be guilty of transgression, and all the camp of
Israel be under sin, and be troubled.
6:19. But whatsoever gold or silver there shall be, or vessels of brass
and iron, let it be consecrated to the Lord, laid up in his treasures.
6:20. So all the people making a shout, and the trumpets sounding, when
the voice and the sound thundered in the ears of the multitude, the
walls forthwith fell down:  and every man went up by the place that was
over against him:  and they took the city,
6:21. And killed all that were in it, man and woman, young and old.  The
oxen also, and the sheep, and the asses, they slew with the edge of the
6:22. But Josue said to the two men that had been sent for spies:  Go
into the harlot's house, and bring her out, and all things that are
hers, as you assured her by oath.
6:23. And the young men went in, and brought out Rahab, and her
parents, her brethren also, and all her goods, and her kindred, and
made them to stay without the camp.
6:24. But they burned the city, and all things that were therein;
except the gold and silver, and vessels of brass and iron, which they
consecrated unto the treasury of the Lord.  _
6:25. But Josue saved Rahab the harlot, and her father's house, and all
she had, and they dwelt in the midst of Israel until this present day:
because she hid the messengers whom he had sent to spy out Jericho.  At
that time, Josue made an imprecation, saying:
6:26. Cursed be the man before the Lord, that shall raise up and build
the city of Jericho.  In his firstborn may he lay the foundation
thereof, and in the last of his children set up its gates.
Cursed, etc. . .Jericho, in the mystical sense, signifies iniquity:  the
sounding of the trumpets by the priests, the preaching of the word of
God; by which the walls of Jericho are thrown down, when sinners are
converted; and a dreadful curse will light on them who build them up
6:27. And the Lord was with Josue, and his name was noised throughout
all the land
Josue Chapter 7
For the sins of Achan, the Israelites are defeated at Hai.  The offender
is found out; and stoned to death, and God's wrath is turned from them.
7:1. But the children of Israel transgressed the commandment, and took
to their own use of that which was accursed.  For Achan, the son of
Charmi, the son of Zabdi, the son of Zare, of the tribe of Juda, took
something of the anathema:  and the Lord was angry against the children
7:2. And when Josue sent men from Jericho against Hai, which is beside
Bethaven, on the east side of the town of Bethel, he said to them:  Go
up, and view the country:  and they fulfilled his command, and viewed
7:3. And returning, they said to him:  Let not all the people go up, but
let two or three thousand men go, and destroy the city:  why should all
the people be troubled in vain, against enemies that are very few?
7:4. There went up therefore three thousand fighting men:  who
immediately turned their backs,
7:5. And were defeated by the men of the city of Hai, and there fell of
them six and thirty men:  and the enemies pursued them from the gate as
far as Sabarim, and they slew them as they fled by the descent:  and the
heart of the people was struck with fear, and melted like water.
7:6. But Josue rent his garments, and fell flat on the ground, before
the ark of the Lord, until the evening, both he and all the ancients of
Israel:  and they put dust upon their heads.
7:7. And Josue said:  Alas, O Lord God, why wouldst thou bring this
people over the river Jordan, to deliver us into the hand of the
Amorrhite, and to destroy us?  would God we had stayed beyond the
Jordan, as we began.
7:8. My Lord God, what shall I say, seeing Israel turning their backs
to their enemies?
7:9. The Chanaanites, and all the inhabitants of the land, will hear of
it, and being gathered together will surround us, and cut off our name
from the earth:  and what wilt thou do to thy great name?
7:10. And the Lord said to Josue:  Arise, why liest thou flat on the
7:11. Israel hath sinned, and transgressed my covenant:  and they have
taken of the anathema, and have stolen and lied, and have hid it among
their goods.
7:12. Neither can Israel stand before his enemies, but he shall flee
from them:  because he is defiled with the anathema.  I will be no more
with you, till you destroy him that is guilty of this wickedness.
7:13. Arise, sanctify the people, and say to them:  Be ye sanctified
against tomorrow:  for thus saith the Lord God of Israel:  The curse is
in the midst of thee, O Israel:  thou canst not stand before thy
enemies, till he be destroyed out of thee, that is defiled with this
7:14. And you shall come in the morning, every one by your tribes:  and
what tribe soever the lot shall find, it shall come by its kindreds,
and the kindred by its houses and tho house by the men.
7:15. And whosoever he be that shall be found guilty of this fact, he
shall be burnt with fire, with all his substance, because he hath
transgressed the covenant of the Lord, and hath done wickedness in
7:16. Josue, therefore, when he rose in the morning, made Israel to
come by their tribes, and the tribe of Juda was found.
7:17. Which being brought by in families, it was found to be the family
of Zare.  Bringing that also by the houses, he found it to be Zabdi:
7:18. And bringing his house man by man, he found Achan, the son of
Charmi, the son of Zabdi, the son of Zare, of the tribe of Juda.
7:19. And Josue said to Achan:  My son, give glory to the Lord God of
Israel, and confess, and tell me what thou hast done, hide it not.
7:20. And Achan answered Josue, and said to him:  Indeed I have sinned
against the Lord, the God of Israel, and thus and thus have I done.
7:21. For I saw among the spoils a scarlet garment, exceeding good, and
two hundred sicles of silver, and a golden rule of fifty sicles:  and I
coveted them, and I took them away, and hid them in the ground in the
midst of my tent, and the silver I covered with the earth that I dug
7:22. Josue therefore sent ministers:  who running to his tent, found
all hid in the same place, together with the silver.
7:23. And taking them away out of the tent, they brought them to Josue,
and to all the children of Israel, and threw them down before the Lord.
7:24. Then Josue, and all Israel with him, took Achan, the son of Zare,
and the silver, and the garment, and the golden rule, his sons also,
and his daughters, his oxen, and asses, and sheep, the tent also, and
all the goods:  and brought them to the valley of Achor:
His sons, etc. . .Probably conscious to, or accomplices of, the crime of
their father.
7:25. Where Josue said:  Because thou hast troubled us, the Lord trouble
thee this day.  And all Israel stoned him:  and all things that were his,
were consumed with fire.
7:26. And they gathered together upon him a great heap of stones, which
remaineth until this present day And the wrath of the Lord was turned
away from them.  And the name of that place was called the Valley of
Achor, until this day.
Achor. . .That is, trouble.
Josue Chapter 8
Hai is taken and burnt, and all the inhabitants slain.  An altar is
built, and sacrifices offered.  The law is written on stones, and the
blessings and cursings are read before all the people.
8:1. And the Lord said to Josue:  Fear not, nor be thou dismayed:  take
with thee all the multitude of fighting men, arise, and go up to the
town of Hai:  Behold I have delivered into thy hand the king thereof,
and the people, and the city, and the land.
8:2. And thou shalt do to the city of Hai, and to the king thereof, as
thou hast done to Jericho, and to the king thereof:  but the spoils, and
all the cattle, you shall take for a prey to yourselves:  lay an ambush
for the city behind it.
8:3. And Josue arose, and all the army of the fighting men with him, to
go up against Hai:  and he sent thirty thousand chosen valiant men in
8:4. And commanded them, saying:  Lay an ambush behind the city:  and go
not very far from it:  and be ye all ready.
8:5. But I, and the rest of the multitude which is with me, will
approach on the contrary side against the city.  And when they shall
come out against us, we will flee, and turn our backs, as we did
8:6. Till they pursuing us be drawn farther from the city:  for they
will think that we flee as before.
8:7. And whilst we are fleeing, and they pursuing, you shall rise out
of the ambush, and shall destroy the city:  and the Lord your God will
deliver it into your hands.
8:8. And when you shall have taken it, set it on fire, and you shall do
all things so as I have commanded.
8:9. And he sent them away, and they went on to the place of the
ambush, and abode between Bethel and Hai, on the west side of the city
of Hai.  But Josue staid that night in the midst of the people,
8:10. And rising early in the morning, he mustered his soldiers, and
went up with the ancients in the front of the army, environed with the
aid of the fighting men.
8:11. And when they were come, and were gone up over against the city,
they stood on the north side of the city, between which and them there
was a valley in the midst.
8:12. And he had chosen five thousand men, and set them to lie in
ambush between Bethel and Hai, on the west side of the same city:
Five thousand. . .These were part of the thirty thousand mentioned
above, ver. 3.
8:13. But all the rest of the army went in battle array on the north
side, so that the last of that multitude reached to the west side of
the city.  So Josue went that night, and stood in the midst of the
8:14. And when the king of Hai saw this, he made haste in the morning,
and went out with all the army of the city, and set it in battle array,
toward the desert, not knowing that there lay an ambush behind his
8:15. But Josue, and all Israel gave back, making as if they were
afraid, and fleeing by the way of the wilderness.
8:16. But they shouting together, and encouraging one another, pursued
them.  And when they were come from the city,
8:17. And not one remained in the city of Hai and of Bethel, that did
not pursue after Israel, leaving the towns open as they had rushed out,
8:18. The Lord said to Josue:  Lift up the shield that is in thy hand,
towards the city of Hai, for I will deliver it to thee.
8:19. And when he had lifted up his shield towards the city, the
ambush, that lay hid, rose up immediately:  and going to the city, took
it, and set it on fire.
8:20. And the men of the city, that pursued after Josue, looking back,
and seeing the smoke of the city rise up to heaven, had no more power
to flee this way or that way:  especially as they that had counterfeited
flight, and were going toward the wilderness, turned back most
valiantly against them that pursued.
8:21. So Josue, and all Israel, seeing that the city was taken, and
that the smoke of the city rose up, returned, and slew the men of Hai.
8:22. And they also that had taken and set the city on fire, issuing
out of the city to meet their own men, began to cut off the enemies who
were surrounded by them.  So that the enemies being cut off on both
sides, not one of so great a multitude was saved.
8:23. And they took the king of the city of Hai alive and brought him
8:24. So all being slain that had pursued after Israel, in his flight
to the wilderness, and falling by the sword in the same place, the
children of Israel returned and laid waste the city.
8:25. And the number of them that fell that day, both of men and women,
was twelve thousand persons, all of the city of Hai.
8:26. But Josue drew not back his hand, which he had stretched out on
high, holding the shield, till all the inhabitants of Hai were slain.
8:27. And the children of Israel divided among them, the cattle and the
prey of the city, as the Lord had commanded Josue.
8:28. And he burnt the city, and made it a heap forever:
8:29. And he hung the king thereof on a gibbet, until the evening and
the going down of the sun.  Then Josue commanded, and they took down his
carcass from the gibbet:  and threw it in the very entrance of the city,
heaping upon it a great heap of stones, which remaineth until this
present day.
8:30. Then Josue built an altar to the Lord, the God of Israel, in
Mount Hebal,
8:31. As Moses, the servant of the Lord, had commanded the children of
Israel, and it is written in the book of the law of Moses:  an altar of
unhewn stones, which iron had not touched:  and he offered upon it
holocausts to the Lord, and immolated victims of peace offerings.
8:32. And he wrote upon stones, the Deuteronomy of the law of Moses,
which he had ordered before the children of Israel.
8:33. And all the people, and the ancients, and the princes, and
judges, stood on both sides of the ark, before the priests that carried
the ark of the covenant of the Lord, both the stranger and he that was
born among them, half of them by Mount Garizim, and half by Mount
Hebal, as Moses the servant of the Lord, had commanded.  And first he
blessed the people of Israel.
8:34. After this, he read all the words of the blessing and the
cursing, and all things that were written in the book of the law.
8:35. He left out nothing of those things which Moses had commanded,
but he repeated all before all the people of Israel, with the women and
children, and strangers, that dwelt among them.
Josue Chapter 9
Josue is deceived by the Gabaonites:  who being detected are condemned
to be perpetual servants.
9:1. Now when these things were heard of, all the kings beyond the
Jordan, that dwelt in the mountains, and in the plains, in the places
near the sea, and on the coasts of the great sea, they also that dwell
by Libanus, the Hethite, and the Amorrhite, the Chanaanite, the
Pherezite, and the Hevite, and the Jebusite,
9:2. Gathered themselves together, to fight against Josue and Israel
with one mind, and one resolution.
9:3. But they that dwelt in Gabaon, hearing all that Josue had done to
Jericho and Hai:
9:4. Cunningly devising took for themselves provisions, laying old
sacks upon their asses, and wine bottles rent and sewed up again,
9:5. And very old shoes, which for a show of age were clouted with
patches, and old garments upon them:  the loaves also, which they
carried for provisions by the way, were hard, and broken into pieces:
9:6. And they went to Josue, who then abode in the camp at Galgal, and
said to him, and to all Israel with him:  We are come from a far
country, desiring to make peace with you.  And the children of Israel
answered them, and said:
9:7. Perhaps you dwell in the land which falls to our lot; if so, we
can make no league with you.
9:8. But they said to Josue:  We are thy servants.  Josue said to them:
Who are you?  and whence came you?
9:9. They answered:  From a very far country thy servants are come in
the name of the Lord thy God.  For we have heard the fame of his power,
all the things that he did in Egypt.
9:10. And to the two kings of the Amorrhites, that were beyond the
Jordan, Sehon, king of Hesebon, and Og, king of Basan, that was in
9:11. And our ancients, and all the inhabitants of our country, said to
us:  Take with you victuals for a long way, and go meet them, and say:
We are your servants, make ye a league with us.
9:12. Behold, these loaves we took hot, when we set out from our houses
to come to you, now they are become dry, and broken in pieces by being
exceeding old.
9:13. These bottles of wine when we filled them were new, now they are
rent and burst.  These garments we have on, and the shoes we have on our
feet, by reason of the very long journey, are worn out, and almost
9:14. They took therefore of their victuals, and consulted not the
mouth of the Lord.
9:15. And Josue made peace with them, and entering into a league,
promised that they should not be slain:  the princes also of the
multitude swore to them.
9:16. Now three days after the league was made, they heard that they
dwelt nigh, and they should be among them.
9:17. And the children of Israel removed the camp, and came into their
cities on the third day, the names of which are, Gabaon, and Caphira,
and Beroth, and Cariathiarim.
9:18. And they slew them not, because the princes of the multitude had
sworn in the name of the Lord, the God of Israel.  Then all the common
people murmured against the princes.
9:19. And they answered them:  We have sworn to them in the name of the
Lord, the God of Israel, and therefore we may not touch them.
9:20. But this we will do to them:  Let their lives be saved, lest the
wrath of the Lord be stirred up against us, if we should be forsworn:
9:21. But so let them live, as to serve the whole multitude in hewing
wood, and bringing in water.  As they were speaking these things,
9;22. Josue called the Gabaonites, and said to them:  Why would you
impose upon us, saying:  We dwell very far off from you, whereas you are
in the midst of us?
9:23. Therefore you shall be under a curse, and your race shall always
be hewers of wood, and carriers of water, into the house of my God.
9:24. They answered:  It was told us, thy servants, that the Lord thy
God had promised his servant Moses, to give you all the land, and to
destroy all the inhabitants thereof.  Therefore we feared exceedingly
and provided for our lives, compelled by the dread we had of you, and
we took this counsel.
9:25. And now we are in thy hand:  deal with us as it seemeth good and
right unto thee.
9:26. So Josue did as he had said, and delivered them from the hand of
the children of Israel, that they should not be slain.
9:27. And he gave orders in that day, that they should be in the
service of all the people, and of the altar of the Lord, hewing wood,
and carrying water, until this present time, in the place which the
Lord hath chosen.
Josue Chapter 10
Five kings war against Gabaon.  Josue defeateth them:  many are slain
with hailstones.  At the prayer of Josue the sun and moon stand still
the space of one day.  The five kings are hanged.  Divers cities are
10:1. When Adonisedec, king of Jerusalem, had heard these things, to
wit, that Josue had taken Hai, and had destroyed it, (for as he had
done to Jericho and the king thereof, so did he to Hai and its king)
and that the Gabaonites were gone over to Israel, and were their
confederates,
10:2. He was exceedingly afraid.  For Gabaon was a great city, and one
of the royal cities, and greater than the town of Hai, and all its
fighting men were most valiant.
10:3. Therefore Adonisedec, king of Jerusalem, sent to Oham, king of
Hebron, and to Pharam, king of Jerimoth, and to Japhia, king of Lachis,
and to Dabir, king of Eglon, saying:
10:4. Come up to me, and bring help, that we may take Gabaon, because
it hath gone over to Josue, and to the children of Israel.
10:5. So the five kings of the Amorrhites being assembled together,
went up:  the king of Jerusalem, the king of Hebron, the king of
Jerimoth, the king of Lachis, the king of Eglon, they and their armies,
and camped about Gabaon, laying siege to it.
10:6. But the inhabitants of the city of Gabaon, which was besieged,
sent to Josue, who then abode in the camp at Galgal, and said to him:
Withdraw not thy hands from helping thy servants:  come up quickly, and
save us, and bring us succour:  for all the kings of the Amorrhites, who
dwell in the mountains, are gathered together against us.
10:7. And Josue went up from Galgal, and all the army of the warriors
with him, most valiant men.
10:8. But the Lord said to Josue:  Fear them not:  for I have delivered
them into thy hands:  none of them shall be able to stand against thee.
10:9. So Josue going up from Galgal all the night, came upon them
10:10. And the Lord troubled them, at the sight of Israel:  and he slew
them with a great slaughter, in Gabaon, and pursued them by the way of
the ascent to Bethoron, and cut them off all the way to Azeca and
10:11. And when they were fleeing from the children of Israel, and were
in the descent of Bethoron, the Lord cast down upon them great stones
from heaven, as far as Azeca:  and many more were killed with the
hailstones, than were slain by the swords of the children of Israel,
10:12. Then Josue spoke to the Lord, in the day that he delivered the
Amorrhite in the sight of the children of Israel, and he said before
them:  Move not, O sun, toward Gabaon, nor thou, O moon, toward the
valley of Ajalon.
10:13. And the sun and the moon stood still, till the people revenged
themselves of their enemies.  Is not this written in the book of the
just?  So the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to
go down the space of one day.
The book of the just. . .In Hebrew Jasher:  an ancient book long since
10:14. There was not before, nor after, so long a day, the Lord obeying
the voice of a man, and fighting for Israel.
10:15. And Josue returned, with all Israel, into the camp of Galgal.
10:16. For the five kings were fled, and had hid themselves in a cave
of the city of Maceda.
10:17. And it was told Josue, that the five kings were found hid in a
cave of the city of Maceda.
10:18. And he commanded them that were with him, saying:  Roll great
stones to the mouth of the cave, and set careful men to keep them shut
10:19. And stay you not, but pursue after the enemies, and kill all the
hindermost of them as they flee, and do not suffer them whom the Lord
God hath delivered into your hands, to shelter themselves in their
10:20. So the enemies being slain with a great slaughter, and almost
utterly consumed, they that were able to escape from Israel, entered
into fenced cities.
10:21. And all the army returned to Josue, in Maceda, where the camp
then was, in good health, and without the loss of any one:  and no man
durst move his tongue against the children of Israel.
10:22. And Josue gave orders, saying:  Open the mouth of the cave, and
bring forth to me the five kings that lie hid therein.
10:23. And the ministers did as they were commanded:  and they brought
out to him the five kings out of the cave:  the king of Jerusalem, the
king of Hebron, the king of Jerimoth, the king of Lachis, the king of
10:24. And when they were brought out to him, he called all the men of
Israel, and said to the chiefs of the army that were with him:  Go, and
set your feet on the necks of these kings.  And when they had gone, and
put their feet upon the necks of them lying under them,
10:25. He said again to them:  Fear not, neither be ye dismayed, take
courage, and be strong:  for so will the Lord do to all your enemies,
against whom you fight.
10:26. And Josue struck, and slew them, and hanged them upon five
gibbets; and they hung until the evening.
10:27. And when the sun was down, he commanded the soldiers to take
them down from the gibbets.  And after they were taken down, they cast
them into the cave, where they had lain hid, and put great stones at
the mouth thereof, which remain until this day.
10:28. The same day Josue took Maceda, and destroyed it with the edge
of the sword, and killed the king and all the inhabitants thereof:  he
left not in it the least remains.  And he did to the king of Maceda, as
he had done to the king of Jericho.
10:29. And he passed from Maceda with all Israel to Lebna, and fought
10:30. And the Lord delivered it with the king thereof into the hands
of Israel:  and they destroyed the city with the edge of the sword, and
all the inhabitants thereof.  They left not in it any remains.  And they
did to the king of Lebna, as they had done to the king of Jericho.
10:31. From Lebna he passed unto Lachis, with all Israel:  and investing
it with his army, besieged it.
10:32. And the Lord delivered Lachis into the hands of Israel, and he
took it the following day, and put it to the sword, and every soul that
was in it, as he had done to Lebna.
10:33. At that time Horam, king of Gazer, came up to succour Lachis:
and Josue slew him with all his people so as to leave none alive.
10:34. And he passed from Lachis to Eglon, and surrounded it,
10:35. And took it the same day:  and put to the sword all the souls
that were in it, according to all that he had done to Lachis.
10:36. He went up also with all Israel from Eglon to Hebron, and fought
10:37. Took it, and destroyed it with the edge of the sword:  the king
also thereof, and all the towns of that country, and all the souls that
dwelt in it:  he left not therein any remains:  as he had done to Eglon,
so did he also to Hebron, putting to the sword all that he found in it.
The king. . .Viz., the new king, who succeeded him that was slain, ver.
10:38. Returning from thence to Dabir,
10:39. He took it, and destroyed it:  the king also thereof, and all the
towns round about, he destroyed with the edge of the sword:  he left not
in it any remains:  as he had done to Hebron and Lebna, and to their
kings, so did he to Dabir, and to the king thereof.
10:40. So Josue conquered all the country of the hills, and of the
south, and of the plain, and of Asedoth, with their kings:  he left not
any remains therein, but slew all that breathed, as the Lord, the God
of Israel, had commanded him.
Any remains therein, but slew, etc. . .God ordered these people to be
utterly destroyed, in punishment of their manifold abomination; and
that they might not draw the Israelites into the like sins.
10:41. From Cadesbarne even to Gaza.  All the land of Gosen even to
10:42. And all their kings, and their lands he took and wasted at one
onset:  for the Lord the God of Israel fought for him.
10:43. And he returned with all Israel to the place of the camp in
Josue Chapter 11
The kings of the north are overthrown:  the whole country is taken.
11:1. And when Jabin king of Asor had heard these things, he sent to
Jobab king of Madon, and to the king of Semeron, and to the king of
11:2. And to the kings of the north, that dwelt in the mountains and in
the plains over against the south side of Ceneroth, and in the levels
and the countries of Dor by the sea side:
11:3. To the Chanaanites also on the east and on the west, and the
Amorrhite, and the Hethite, and the Pherezite, and the Jebusite in the
mountains:  to the Hevite also who dwelt at the foot of Hermon in the
land of Maspha.
11:4. And they all came out with their troops, a people exceeding
numerous as the sand that is on the sea shore, their horses also and
chariots a very great multitude,
11:5. And all these kings assembled together at the waters of Merom, to
fight against Israel.
11:6. And the Lord said to Josue:  Fear them not:  for to morrow at this
same hour I will deliver all these to be slain in the sight of Israel:
thou shalt hamstring their horses, and thou shalt burn their chariots
Hamstring their horses, and burn their chariots with fire, etc. . .God
so ordained, that his people might not trust in chariots and horses,
11:7. And Josue came, and all the army with him, against them to the
waters of Merom on a sudden, and fell upon them.
11:8. And the Lord delivered them into the hands of Israel.  And they
defeated them, and chased them as far as the great Sidon and the waters
of Maserophot, and the field of Masphe, which is on the east thereof.
He slew them all, so as to leave no remains of them:
11:9. And he did as the Lord had commanded him, he hamstringed their
horses and burned their chariots.
11:10. And presently turning back he took Asor:  and slew the king
thereof with the sword.  Now Asor of old was the head of all these
11:11. And he cut off all the souls that abode there:  he left not in it
any remains, but utterly destroyed all, and burned the city itself with
11:12. And he took and put to the sword and destroyed all the cities
round about, and their kings, as Moses the servant of God had commanded
11:13. Except the cities that were on hills and high places, the rest
Israel burned:  only Asor that was very strong he consumed with fire.
11:14. And the children of Israel divided among themselves all the
spoil of these cities and the cattle, killing all the men.
11:15. As the Lord had commanded Moses his servant, so did Moses
command Josue, and he accomplished all:  he left not one thing undone of
all the commandments which the Lord had commanded Moses.
11:16. So Josue took all the country of the hills, and of the south,
and the land of Gosen, and the plains and the west country, and the
mountain of Israel, and the plains thereof:
11:17. And part of the mountain that goeth up to Seir as far as
Baalgad, by the plain of Libanus under mount Hermon:  all their kings he
took, smote and slew.
11:18. Josue made war a long time against these kings.
A long time. . .Seven years, as appears from chap. 14.10.
11:19. There was not a city that delivered itself to the children of
Israel, except the Hevite, who dwelt in Gabaon:  for he took all by
11:20. For it was the sentence of the Lord, that their hearts should be
hardened, and they should fight against Israel, and fall, and should
not deserve any clemency, and should be destroyed as the Lord had
commanded Moses.
Hardened. . .This hardening of their hearts, was their having no thought
of yielding or submitting:  which was a sentence or judgment of God upon
them in punishment of their enormous crimes.
11:21. At that time Josue came and cut off the Enancims from the
mountains, from Hebron, and Dabir, and Anab, and from all the mountain
of Juda and Israel, and destroyed their cities.
11:22. He left not any of the stock of the Enacims, in the land of the
children of Israel:  except the cities of Gaza, and Geth, and Azotus, in
which alone they were left.
11:23. So Josue took all the land, as the Lord spoke to Moses, and
delivered it in possession to the children of Israel, according to
their divisions and tribes.  And the land rested from wars.
Josue Chapter 12
A list of the kings slain by Moses and Josue,
12:1. These are the kings, whom the children of Israel slew and
possessed their land beyond the Jordan towards the rising of the sun,
from the torrent Arnon unto mount Hermon, and all the east country that
looketh towards the wilderness.
12:2. Sehon king of the Amorrhites, who dwelt in Hesebon, and had
dominion from Aroer, which is seated upon the bank of the torrent
Arnon, and of the middle part in the valley, and of half Galaad, as far
as the torrent Jaboc, which is the border of the children of Ammon.
12:3. And from the wilderness, to the sea of Ceneroth towards the east,
and to the sea of the wilderness, which is the most salt sea, on the
east side by the way that leadeth to Bethsimoth:  and on the south side
that lieth under Asedoth, Phasga.
12:4. The border of Og the king of Basan, of the remnant of the
Raphaims who dwelt in Astaroth, and in Edrai, and had dominion in mount
Hermon, and in Salecha, and in all Basan, unto the borders
12:5. Of Gessuri and Machati, and of half Galaad:  the borders of Sehon
the king of Hesebon.
12:6. Moses the servant of the Lord, and the children of Israel slew
them, and Moses delivered their land in possession to the Rubenites,
and Gadites, and the half tribe of Manasses.
12:7. These are the kings of the land, whom Josue and the children of
Israel slew beyond the Jordan on the west side from Baalgad in the
field of Libanus, unto the mount, part of which goeth up into Seir:  and
Josue delivered it in possession to the tribes of Israel, to every one
their divisions,
12:8. As well in the mountains as in the plains and the champaign
countries.  In Asedoth, and in the wilderness, and in the south was the
Hethite and the Amorrhite, the Chanaanite and the Pherezite, the Hevite
and the Jebusite.
12:9. The king of Jericho one:  the king of Hai, which is on the side of
Bethel, one:
12:10. The king of Jerusalem one, the king of Hebron one,
12:11. The king of Jerimoth one, thee king of Lachis one,
12:12. The king of Eglon one, the king of Gazer one,
12:13. The king of Dabir one, the king of Gader one,
12:14. The king of Herma one, the king of Hered one,
12:15. The king of Lebna one, the king of Odullam one,
12:16. The king of Maceda one, the king of Bethel one,
12:17. The king of Taphua one, the king of Opher one,
12:18. The king of Aphec one, the king of Saron one,
12:19. The king of Madon one, the king of Asor one,
12:20. The king of Semeron one, the king of Achsaph one,
12:21. The king of Thenac one, the king of Mageddo one,
12:22. Thee king of Cades one, the king of Jachanan of Carmel one,
12:23. The king of Dor, and of the province of Dor one, the king of the
nations of Galgal one,
12:24. The king of Thersa one:  all the kings thirty and one.
Josue Chapter 13
God commandeth Josue to divide the land:  the possessions of Ruben, Gad,
and half the tribe of Manasses, beyond the Jordan.
13:1. Josue was old, and far advanced in years, and the Lord said to
him:  Thou art grown old, and advanced in age, and there is a very large
country left, which is not yet divided by lot:
Josue was old, and far advanced in years. . .He was then about one
hundred and one years old.--And there is a very large country left,
which is not yet divided by lot. . .Not yet possessed by the children of
13:2. To wit, all Galilee, Philistia, and all Gessuri.
13:3. From the troubled river, that watereth Egypt, unto the border of
Accaron northward:  the land of Chanaan, which is divided among the
lords of the Philistines, the Gazites, the Azotians, the Ascalonites,
the Gethites, and the Accronites.
13:4. And on the south side are the Hevites, all the land of Chanaan,
and Maara of the Sidonians as far as Apheca, and the borders of the
13:5. And his confines.  The country also of Libanus towards the east
from Baalgad under mount Hermon to the entering into Emath.
13:6. Of all that dwell in the mountains from Libanus, to the waters of
Maserephoth, and all the Sidonians.  I am he that will cut them off from
before the face of the children of Israel.  So let their land come in as
a part of the inheritance of Israel, as I have commanded thee.
13:7. And now divide the land in possession to the nine tribes, and to
the half tribe of Manasses,
13:8. With whom Ruben and Gad have possessed the land, which Moses the
servant of the Lord delivered to them beyond the river Jordan, on the
With whom. . .That is, with the other half of that same tribe.
13:9. From Aroer, which is upon the bank of the torrent Arnon, and in
the midst of the valley and all the plains of Medaba, as far as Dibon:
13:10. And all the cities of Sehon, king of the Amorrhites, who reigned
in Hesebon, unto the borders of the children of Ammon.
13:11. And Galaad, and the borders of Gessuri and Machati, and all
mount Hermon, and all Basan as far as Salecha,
13:12. All the kingdom of Og in Basan, who reigned in Astaroth and
Edrai, he was of the remains of the Raphaims:  and Moses overthrew and
destroyed them.
13:13. And the children of Israel would not destroy Gessuri and Machati
and they have dwelt in the midst of Israel, until this present day.
13:14. But to the tribe of Levi he gave no possession:  but the
sacrifices and victims of thee Lord God of Israel, are his inheritance,
as he spoke to him.
13:15. And Moses gave a possession to the children of Ruben according
to their kindreds.
13:16. And their border was from Aroer, which is on the bank of the
torrent Arnon, and in the midst of the valley of the same torrent:  all
the plain, that leadeth to Medaba,
13:17. And Hesebon, and all their villages, which are in the plains.
Dibon also, and Bamothbaal, and the town of Baalmaon,
13:18. And Jassa, and Cidimoth, and Mephaath,
13:19. And Cariathaim, and Sabama, and Sarathasar in the mountain of
13:20. Bethphogor and Asedoth, Phasga and Bethiesimoth,
13:21. And all the cities of the plain, and all the kingdoms of Sehon
king of the Amorrhites, that reigned in Hesebon, whom Moses slew with
the princes of Madian:  Hevi, and Recem, and Sur and Hur, and Rebe,
dukes of Sehon inhabitants of the land.
The princes of Madian. . .It appears from hence that these were subjects
of king Sehon:  they are said to have been slain with him, that is,
about the same time, but not in the same battle.
13:22. Balaam also the son of Beor the soothsayer, the children of
Israel slew with the sword among the rest that were slain.
13:23. And the river Jordan was the border of the children of Ruben.
This is the possession of the Rubenites, by their kindreds, of cities
and villages.
13:24. And Moses gave to the tribe of Gad and to his children by their
kindreds a possession, of which this is the division.
13:25. The border of Jaser, and all the cities of Galaad, and half the
land of the children of Ammon:  as far as Aroer which is over against
13:26. And from Hesebon unto Ramoth, Masphe and Betonim:  and from
Manaim unto the borders of Dabir.
13:27. And in the valley Betharan and Bethnemra, and Socoth, and Saphon
the other part of the kingdom of Sehon king of Hesebon:  the limit of
this also is the Jordan, as far as the uttermost part of the sea of
Cenereth beyond the Jordan on the east side,
13:28. This is the possession of the children of Gad by their families,
their cities, and villages.
13:29. He gave also to the half tribe of Manasses and his children
possession according to their kindreds,
13:30. The beginning whereof is this:  from Manaim all Basan, and all
the kingdoms of Og king of Basan, and all the villages of Jair, which
are in Basan, threescore towns.
13:31. And half Galaad, and Astaroth, and Edrai, cities of the kingdom
of Og in Basan:  to the children of Machir, the son of Manasses, to one
half of the children of Machir according to their kindreds.
13:32. This possession Moses divided in the plains of Moab, beyond the
Jordan, over against Jericho on the east side,
13:33. But to the tribe of Levi he gave no possession:  because the Lord
the God of Israel himself is their possession, as he spoke to them.
Josue Chapter 14
Caleb's petition; Hebron is given to him and to his seed.
14:1. This is what the children of Israel possessed in the land of
Chanaan, which Eleazar the priest, and Josue the son of Nun, and the
princes of the families by the tribes of Israel gave to them.
14:2. Dividing all by lot, as the Lord had commanded the hand of Moses,
to the nine tribes, and the half tribe.
14:3. For to two tribes and a half Moses had given possession beyond
the Jordan:  besides the Levites, who received no land among their
14:4. But in their place succeeded the children of Joseph divided into
two tribes, of Manasses and Ephraim:  neither did the Levites receive
other portion of land, but cities to dwell in, and their suburbs to
feed their beasts and flocks.
Hebron belonged, etc. . .All the country thereabouts, depending on
Hebron, was given to Caleb; but the city itself with the suburbs, was
one of those that were given to the priests to dwell in.
14:5. As the Lord had commanded Moses so did the children of Israel,
and they divided the land.
14:6. Then the children of Juda came to Josue in Galgal, and Caleb the
son of Jephone the Cenezite spoke to him:  Thou knowest what the Lord
spoke to Moses the man of God concerning me and thee in Cadesbarne.
14:7. I was forty years old when Moses the servant of the Lord sent me
from Cadesbarne, to view the land, and I brought him word again as to
me seemed true,
14:8. But my brethren, that had gone up with me, discouraged the heart
of the people:  and I nevertheless followed the Lord my God.
14:9. And Moses swore in that day, saying:  The land which thy foot hath
trodden upon shall be thy possession, and thy children for ever,
because thou hast followed the Lord my God.
14:10. The Lord therefore hath granted me life, as he promised until
this present day, It is forty and five years since the Lord spoke this
word to Moses, when Israel journeyed through the wilderness:  this day I
am eighty-five years old,
14:11. As strong as I was at that time when I was sent to view the
land:  the strength of that time continueth in me until this day, as
well to fight as to march.
14:12. Give me therefore this mountain, which the Lord promised, in thy
hearing also, wherein are the Enacims, and cities great and strong:  if
so be the Lord will be with me, and I shall be able to destroy them, as
he promised me.
14:13. And Josue blessed him, and gave him Hebron in possession.
14:14. And from that time Hebron belonged to Caleb the son of Jephone
the Cenezite, until this present day:  because he followed the Lord the
God of Israel.
14:15. The name of Hebron before was called Cariath-Arbe:  Adam the
greatest among the Enacims was laid there and the land rested from
Josue Chapter 15
The borders of the lot of Juda.  Caleb's portion and conquest.  The
cities of Juda.
15:1. Now the lot of the children of Juda by their kindreds was this:
From the frontier of Edom, to the desert of Sin southward, and to the
uttermost part of the south coast.
15:2. Its beginning was from the top of the most salt sea, and from the
bay thereof, that looketh to the south.
15:3. And it goeth out towards the ascent of the Scorpion, and passeth
on to Sina:  and ascendeth into Cadesbarne, and reacheth into Esron,
going up to Addar, and compassing Carcaa.
15:4. And from thence passing along into Asemona, and reaching the
torrent of Egypt:  and the bounds thereof shall be the great sea, this
shall be the limit of the south coast.
15:5. But on the east side the beginning shall be the most salt sea
even to the end of the Jordan:  and towards the north from the bay of
the sea unto the same river Jordan.
15:6. And the border goeth up into Beth-Hagla, and passeth by the north
into Beth-Araba:  going up to the stone of Boen the son of Ruben.
15:7. And reaching as far as the borders of Debara from the valley of
Achor, and so northward looking towards Galgal, which is opposite to
the ascent of Adommin, on the south side of the torrent, and the border
passeth the waters that are called the fountain of the sun:  and the
goings out thereof shall be at the fountain Rogel.
15:8. And it goeth up by the valley of the son of Ennom on the side of
the Jebusite towards the south, the same is Jerusalem:  and thence
ascending to the top of the mountain, which is over against Geennom to
the west in the end of the valley of Raphaim, northward.
15:9. And it passeth on from the top of the mountain to the fountain of
the water of Nephtoa:  and reacheth to the towns of mount Ephron:  and it
bendeth towards Baala, which is Cariathiarim, that is to say, the city
of the woods.
15:10. And it compasseth from Baala westward unto mount Seir:  and
passeth by the side of mount Jarim to the north into Cheslon:  and goeth
down into Bethsames, and passeth into Thamna.
15:11. And reacheth northward to a part of Accaron at the side:  and
bendeth to Sechrona, and passeth mount Baala:  and cometh into Jebneel,
and is bounded westward with the great sea.
15:12. These are the borders round about of the children of Juda in
their kindreds.
15:13. But to Caleb the son of Jephone he gave a portion in the midst
of the children of Juda, as the Lord had commanded him:  Cariath-Arbe
the father of Enac, which is Hebron.
15:14. And Caleb destroyed out of it the three sons of Enac, Sesai and
Ahiman, and Tholmai of the race of Enac.
15:15. And going up from thence he came to the inhabitants of Dabir,
which before was called Cariath-Sepher, that is to say, the city of
15:16. And Caleb said:  He that shall smite Cariath-Sepher, and take it,
I will give him Axa my daughter to wife.
15:17. And Othoniel the son of Cenez, the younger brother of Caleb,
took it:  and he gave him Axa his daughter to wife.
15:18. And as they were going together, she was moved by her husband to
ask a field of her father, and she sighed as she sat on her ass.  And
Caleb said to her:  What aileth thee?
15:19. But she answered:  Give me a blessing:  thou hast given me a
southern and dry land, give me also a land that Is watered.  And Caleb
gave her the upper and the nether watery ground.
15:20. This is the possession of the tribe of the children of Juda by
their kindreds.
15:21. And the cities from the uttermost parts of the children of Juda
by the borders of Edom to the south, were Cabseel and Eder and Jagur,
15:22. And Cina and Dimona and Adada,
15:23. And Cades and Asor and Jethnam,
15:24. Ziph and Telem and Baloth,
15:25. New Asor and Carioth, Hesron, which is Asor.
15:26. Amam, Sama and Molada,
15:27. And Asergadda and Hassemon and Bethphelet,
15:28. And Hasersual and Bersabee and Baziothia,
15:29. And Baala and Jim and Esem,
15:30. And Eltholad and Cesil and Harma,
15:31. And Siceleg and Medemena and Sensenna,
15:32. Lebaoth and Selim and Aen and Remmon:  all the cities
twenty-nine, and their villages.
15:33. But in the plains:  Estaol and Sarea and Asena,
15:34. And Zanoe and Engannim and Taphua and Enaim,
15:35. And Jerimoth and Adullam, Socho and Azeca,
15:36. And Saraim and Adithaim and Gedera and Gederothaim:  fourteen
cities, and their villages.
15:37. Sanan and Hadassa and Magdalgad,
15:38. Delean and Masepha and Jecthel,
15:39. Lachis and Bascath and Eglon,
15:40. Chebbon and Leheman and Cethlis,
15:41. And Gideroth and Bethdagon and Naama and Maceda:  sixteen cities,
and their villages.
15:42. Labana and Ether and Asan,
15:43. Jephtha and Esna and Nesib,
15:44. And Ceila and Achzib and Maresa:  nine cities, and their
15:45. Accaron with the towns and villages thereof.
15:46. From Accaron even to the sea:  all places that lie towards Azotus
and the villages thereof.
15:47. Azotus with its towns and villages.  Gaza with its towns and
villages, even to the torrent of Egypt, and the great sea that is the
border thereof.
15:48. And in the mountain Samir and Jether and Socoth,
15:49. And Danna and Cariath-senna, this is Dabir:
15:50. Anab and Istemo and Anim,
15:51. Gosen and Olon and Gilo:  eleven cities and their villages.
15:52. Arab and Ruma and Esaan,
15:53. And Janum and Beththaphua and Apheca,
15:54. Athmatha and Cariath-Arbe, this is Hebron and Sior:  nine cities
and their villages.
15:55. Maon and Carmel and Ziph and Jota,
15:56. Jezrael and Jucadam and Zanoe,
15:57. Accain, Gabaa and Thamna:  ten cities and their villages.
15:58. Halhul, and Bessur, and Gedor,
15:59. Mareth, and Bethanoth, and Eltecon:  six cities and their
15:60. Cariathbaal, the same is Cariathiarim the city of woods, and
Arebba:  two cities and their villages.
15:61. In the desert Betharaba, Meddin and Sachacha,
15:62. And Nebsan, and the city of salt, and Engaddi:  six cities and
their villages.
15:63. But the children of Juda could not destroy the Jebusite that
dwelt in Jerusalem:  and the Jebusite dwelt with the children of Juda in
Jerusalem until this present day.
Josue Chapter 16
The lot of the sons of Joseph.  The borders of the tribe of Ephraim.
16:1. And the lot of the sons of Joseph fell from the Jordan over
against Jericho and the waters thereof, on the east:  the wilderness
which goeth up from Jericho to the mountain of Bethel:
16:2. And goeth out from Bethel to Luza:  and passeth the border of
Archi, to Ataroth,
16:3. And goeth down westward, by the border of Jephleti, unto the
borders of Beth-horon the nether, and to Gazer:  and the countries of it
are ended by the great sea:
16:4. And Manasses and Ephraim the children of Joseph possessed it.
16:5. And the border of the children of Ephraim was according to their
kindreds:  and their possession towards the east was Ataroth-addar unto
Beth-horon the upper.
16:6. And the confines go out unto the sea:  but Machmethath looketh to
the north, and it goeth round the borders eastward into Thanath-selo:
and passeth along on the east side to Janoe.
Looketh to the north, etc. . .The meaning is, that the border went
towards the north, by Machmethath; and then turned eastward to
Thanath-selo.
16:7. And it goeth down from Janoe into Ataroth and Naaratha:  and it
cometh to Jericho, and goeth out to the Jordan.
16:8. From Taphua it passeth on towards the sea into the valley of
reeds, and the goings out thereof are at the most salt sea.  This is the
possession of the tribe of the children of Ephraim by their families.
16:9. And there were cities with their villages separated for the
children of Ephraim in the midst of the possession of the children of
16:10. And the children of Ephraim slew not the Chanaanite, who dwelt
in Gazer:  and the Chanaanite dwelt in the midst of Ephraim until this
day, paying tribute.
Josue Chapter 17
The lot of the half tribe of Manasses.
17:1. And this lot fell to the tribe of Manasses for he is the
firstborn of Joseph to Machir the firstborn of Manasses the father of
Galaad, who was a warlike man, and had for possession Galaad and Basan.
17:2. And to the rest of the children of Manasses according to their
families:  to the children of Abiezer, and to the children of Helec, and
to the children of Esriel, and to the children of Sechem, and to the
children of Hepher, and to the children of Semida:  these are the male
children of Manasses the son of Joseph, by their kindreds.
17:3. But Salphaad the son of Hepher the son of Galaad the son of
Machir the son of Manasses had no sons, but only daughters:  whose names
are these, Maala and Noa and Hegla and Melcha and Thersa.
17:4. And they came in the presence of Eleazar the priest and of Josue
the son of Nun, and of the princes, saying:  The Lord commanded by the
hand of Moses, that a possession should be given us in the midst of our
brethren.  And he gave them according to the commandment of the Lord a
possession amongst the brethren of their father.
17:5. And there fell ten portions to Manasses, beside the land of
Galaad and Basan beyond the Jordan.
17:6. For the daughters of Manasses possessed inheritance in the midst
of his sons.  And the land of Galaad fell to the lot of the rest of the
children of Manasses.
17:7. And the border of Manasses was from Aser, Machmethath which
looketh towards Sichem:  and it goeth out on the right hand by the
inhabitants of the fountain of Taphua.
17:8. For the lot of Manasses took in the land of Taphua, which is on
the borders of Manasses, and belongs to the children of Ephraim.
17:9. And the border goeth down to the valley of the reeds, to the
south of the torrent of the cities of Ephraim, which are in the midst
of the cities of Manasses:  the border of Manasses is on the north side
of the torrent, and the outgoings of it are at the sea:
17:10. So that the possession of Ephraim is on the south, and on the
north that of Manasses, and the sea is the border of both, and they are
joined together in the tribe of Aser on the north, and in the tribe of
Issachar on the east.
17:11. And the inheritance of Manasses in Issachar and in Aser, was
Bethsan and its villages, and Jeblaam with its villages, and the
inhabitants of Dor, with the towns thereof:  the inhabitants also of
Endor with the villages thereof:  and in like manner the inhabitants of
Thenac with the villages thereof:  and the inhabitants of Mageddo with
their villages, and the third part of the city of Nopheth.
17:12. Neither could the children of Manasses overthrow these cities,
but the Chanaanite began to dwell in his land.
17:13. But after that the children of Israel were grown strong, they
subdued the Chanaanites, and made them their tributaries, and they did
not kill them.
17:14. And the children of Joseph spoke to Josue, and said:  Why hast
thou given me but one lot and one portion to possess, whereas I am of
so great a multitude, and the Lord hath blessed me?
17:15. And Josue said to them:  If thou be a great people, go up into
the woodland, and cut down room for thyself in the land of the
Pherezite and the Raphaims:  because the possession of mount Ephraim is
too narrow for thee.
17:16. And the children of Joseph answered him:  We cannot go up to the
mountains, for the Chanaanites that dwell in the low lands, wherein are
situate Bethsan with its towns, and Jezrael in the midst of the valley,
have chariots of iron.
17:17. And Josue said to the house of Joseph, to Ephraim and Manasses:
Thou art a great people, and of great strength, thou shalt not have one
17:18. But thou shalt pass to the mountain, and shalt cut down the
wood, and make thyself room to dwell in:  and mayst proceed farther,
when thou hast destroyed the Chanaanites, who as thou sayest have iron
chariots, and are very strong.
Josue Chapter 18
Surveyors are sent to divide the rest of the land into seven tribes.
The lot of Benjamin.
18:1. And all the children of Israel assembled together in Silo, and
there they set up the tabernacle of the testimony, and the land was
subdued before them.
18:2. But there remained seven tribes of the children of Israel, which
as yet had not received their possessions.
18:3. And Josue said to them:  How long are you indolent and slack, and
go not in to possess the land which the Lord the God of your fathers
hath given you?
18:4. Choose of every tribe three men, that I may send them, and they
may go and compass the land, and mark it out according to the number of
each multitude:  and bring back to me what they have marked out.
18:5. Divide to yourselves the land into seven parts:  let Juda be in
his bounds on the south side, and the house of Joseph on the north.
18:6. The land in the midst between these mark ye out into seven parts;
and you shall come hither to me, that I may cast lots for you before
the Lord your God.
The land in the midst between these mark ye out into seven
parts. . .That is to say, the rest of the land, which is not already
assigned to Juda or Joseph.
18:7. For the Levites have no part among you, but the priesthood of the
Lord is their inheritance.  And Gad and Ruben, and the half tribe of
Manasses have already received their possessions beyond the Jordan
eastward:  which Moses the servant of the Lord gave them.
18:8. And when the men were risen up, to go to mark out the land, Josue
commanded them saying:  Go round the land and mark it out, and return to
me:  that I may cast lots for you before the Lord in Silo.
18:9. So they went and surveying it divided it into seven parts,
writing them down in a book.  And they returned to Josue, to the camp in
18:10. And he cast lots before the Lord in Silo, and divided the land
to the children of Israel into seven parts.
18:11. And first came up the lot of the children of Benjamin by their
families, to possess the land between the children of Juda, and the
children of Joseph.
18:12. And their border northward was from the Jordan:  going along by
the side of Jericho on the north side, and thence going up westward to
the mountains, and reaching to the wilderness of Bethaven,
18:13. And passing along southward by Luza, the same is Bethel, and it
goeth down into Ataroth-addar to the mountain, that is on the south of
the nether Beth-horon.
18:14. And it bendeth thence going round towards the sea, south of the
mountain that looketh towards Beth-horon to the southwest:  and the
outgoings thereof are into Cariathbaal, which is called also
Cariathiarim, a city of the children of Juda This is their coast
towards the sea, westward.
18:15. But on the south side the border goeth out from part of
Cariathiarim towards the sea, and cometh to the fountain of the waters
18:16. And it goeth down to that part of the mountain that looketh on
the valley of the children of Ennom:  and is over against the north
quarter in the furthermost part of the valley of Raphaim, and it goeth
down into Geennom (that is the valley of Ennom) by the side of the
Jebusite to the south:  and cometh to the fountain of Rogel,
18:17. Passing thence to the north, and going out to Ensemes, that is
to say, the fountain of the sun:
18:18. And It passeth along to the hills that are over against the
ascent of Adommim:  and it goeth down to Abenboen, that is, the stone of
Boen the son of Ruben:  and it passeth on the north side to the
champaign countries; and goeth down Into the plain,
18:19. And it passeth by Bethhagla northward:  and the outgoings thereof
are towards the north of the most salt sea at the south end of the
18:20. Which is the border of it on the east side.  This is the
possession of the children of Benjamin by their borders round about,
and their families.
18:21. And their cities were, Jericho and Bethhagla and Vale-Casis,
18:22. Betharaba and Samaraim and Bethel,
18:23. And Avim and Aphara and Ophera,
18:24. The town Emona and Ophni and Gabee:  twelve cities, and their
18:25. Gabam and Rama and Beroth,
18:26. And Mesphe, and Caphara, and Amosa,
18:27. And Recem, Jarephel, and Tharela,
18:28. And Sela, Eleph and Jebus, which is Jerusalem, Gabaath and
Cariath:  fourteen cities, and their villages.  This is the possession of
the children of Benjamin by their families.
Josue Chapter 19
The lots of the tribes of Simeon, Zabulon, Issachar, Aser, Nephtali and
Dan.  A city is given to Josue.
19:1. And the second lot came forth for the children of Simeon by their
kindreds:  and their inheritance was
19:2. In the midst of the possession of the children of Juda:  Bersabee
and Sabee and Molada
19:3. And Hasersual, Bala and Asem,
19:4. And Eltholad, Bethul and Harma,
19:5. And Siceleg and Bethmarchaboth and Hasersusa,
19:6. And Bethlebaoth and Sarohen:  thirteen cities, and their villages.
19:7. And Remmon and Athor and Asan:  four cities, and their villages.
19:8. And all the villages round about these cities to Baalath Beer
Ramath to the south quarter.  This is the inheritance of the children of
Simeon according to their kindreds,
19:9. In the possession and lot of the children of Juda:  because it was
too great, and therefore the children of Simeon had their possession in
the midst of their inheritance.
19:10. And the third lot fell to the children of Zabulon by their
kindreds:  and the border of their possession was unto Sarid.
19:11. And It went up from the sea and from Merala, and came to
Debbaseth:  as far as the torrent, which is over against Jeconam.
19:12. And it returneth from Sarid eastward to the borders of
Ceseleththabor:  and it goeth out to Dabereth and ascendeth towards
19:13. And it passeth along from thence to the east side of Gethhepher
and Thacasin:  and goeth out to Remmon, Amthar and Noa.
19:14. And it turneth about to the north of Hanathon:  and the outgoings
thereof are the valley of Jephtahel,
19:15. And Cateth and Naalol and Semeron and Jedala and Bethlehem:
twelve cities and their villages.
19:16. This is the inheritance of the tribe of the children of Zabulon
by their kindreds, the cities and their villages.
19:17. The fourth lot came out to Issachar by their kindreds.
19:18. And his inheritance was Jezrael and Casaloth and Sunem,
19:19. And Hapharaim and Seon and Anaharath,
19:20. And Rabboth and Cesion, Abes,
19:21. And Rameth and Engannim and Enhadda and Bethpheses.
19:22. And the border thereof cometh to Thabor and Sehesima and
Bethsames:  and the outgoings thereof shall be at the Jordan:  sixteen
cities, and their villages.
19:23. This is the possession of the sons of Issachar by their
kindreds, the cities and their villages.
19:24. And the fifth lot fell to the tribe of the children of Aser by
their kindreds:
19:25. And their border was Halcath and Chali and Beten and Axaph,
19:26. And Elmelech and Amaad and Messal:  and it reacheth to Carmel by
the sea and Sihor and Labanath,
19:27. And it returneth towards the east to Bethdagon:  and passeth
along to Zabulon and to the valley of Jephthael towards the north to
Bethemec and Nehiel.  And it goeth out to the left side of Cabul,
19:28. And to Abaran and Rohob and Hamon and Cana, as far as the great
19:29. And it returneth to Horma to the strong city of Tyre, and to
Hosa:  and the outgoings thereof shall be at the sea from the portion of
19:30. And Amma and Aphec and Rohob:  twenty-two cities, and their
19:31. This is the possession of the children of Aser by their
kindreds, and the cities and their villages.
19:32. The sixth lot came out to the sons of Nephtali by their
19:33. And the border began from Heleph and Elon to Saananim, and
Adami, which is Neceb, and Jebnael even to Lecum:
19:34. And the border returneth westward to Azanotthabor, and goeth out
from thence to Hucuca, and passeth along to Zabulon southward, and to
Aser westward, and to Juda upon the Jordan towards the rising of the
19:35. And the strong cities are Assedim, Ser, and Emath, and Reccath
and Cenereth,
19:36. And Edema and Arama, Asor,
19:37. And Cedes and Edri, Enhasor,
19:38. And Jeron and Magdalel, Horem, and Bethanath and Bethsames:
nineteen cities, and their villages.
19:39. This is the possession of the tribe of the children of Nephtali
by their kindreds, the cities and their villages.
19:40. The seventh lot came out to the tribe of the children of Dan by
their families
19:41. And the border of their possession was Saraa and Esthaol, and
Hirsemes, that is, the city of the sun,
19:42. Selebin and Aialon and Jethela,
19:43. Elon and Themna and Acron,
19:44. Elthece, Gebbethon and Balaath,
19:45. And Juda and Bane and Barach and Gethremmon:
19:46. And Mejarcon and Arecon, with the border that looketh towards
19:47. And is terminated there.  And the children of Dan went up and
fought against Lesem, and took it:  and they put it to the sword, and
possessed it, and dwelt in it, calling the name of it Lesem Dan, by the
name of Dan their father.
19:48. This is the possession of the tribe of the sons of Dan, by their
kindreds, the cities and their villages.
19:49. And when he had made an end of dividing the land by lot to each
one by their tribes, the children of Israel gave a possession to Josue
the son of Nun in the midst of them,
19:50. According to the commandment of the Lord, the city which he
asked for, Thamnath Saraa, in mount Ephraim:  and he built up the city,
and dwelt in it.
19:51. These are the possessions which Eleazar the priest, and Josue
the son of Nun, and the princes of the families, and of the tribes of
the children of Israel, distributed by lot in Silo, before the Lord at
the door of the tabernacle of the testimony, and they divided the land.
Josue Chapter 20
The cities of refuge are appointed for casual manslaughter.
20:1. And the Lord spoke to Josue, saying:  Speak to children of Israel
and say to them:
20:2. Appoint cities of refuge, of which I spoke to you by the hand of
20:3. That whosoever shall kill a person unawares may flee to them, and
may escape the wrath of the kinsman, who is the avenger of blood.
20:4. And when he shall flee to one of these cities:  he shall stand
before the gate of the city, and shall speak to the ancients of that
city, such things as prove him innocent:  and so shall they receive him,
and give him a place to dwell in.
20:5. And when the avenger of blood shall pursue him, they shall not
deliver him into his hands, because he slew his neighbour unawares, and
is not proved to have been his enemy two or three days before,
20:6. And he shall dwell in that city, till he stand before judgment to
give an account of his fact, and till the death of the high priest, who
shall be at that time:  then shall the manslayer return, and go into his
own city and house from whence he fled.
20:7. And they appointed Cedes in Galilee of mount Nephtali, and Sichem
in mount Ephraim, and Cariath-Arbe, the same is Hebron in the mountain
20:8. And beyond the Jordan to the east of Jericho, they appointed
Bosor, which is upon the plain of the wilderness of the tribe of Ruben,
and Ramoth in Galaad of the tribe of Gad, and Gaulon in Basan of the
tribe of Manasses.
20:9. These cities were appointed for all the children of Israel, and
for the strangers, that dwelt among them, that whosoever had killed a
person unawares might flee to them, and not die by the hand of the
kinsman, coveting to revenge the blood that was shed, until he should
stand before the people to lay open his cause.
Josue Chapter 21
Cities with their suburbs are assigned for the priests and Levites.
21:1. Then the princes of the families of Levi came to Eleazar the
priest, and to Josue the son of Nun, and to the princes of the kindreds
of all the tribes of the children of Israel
21:2. And they spoke to them in Silo in the land of Chanaan, and said:
The Lord commanded by the hand of Moses, that cities should be given us
to dwell in, and their suburbs to feed our cattle.
21:3. And the children of Israel gave out of their possessions
according to the commandment of the Lord, cities and their suburbs.
21:4. And the lot came out for the family of Caath of the children of
Aaron the priest out of the tribes of Juda, and of Simeon, and of
Benjamin, thirteen cities.
21:5. And to the rest of the children of Caath, that is, to thee
Levites, who remained, out of the tribes of Ephraim, and of Dan, and
the half tribe of Manasses, ten cities.
21:6. And the lot came out to children of Gerson, that they should take
of the tribes of Issachar and of Aser and of Nephtali, and of the half
tribe of Manasses in Basan, thirteen cities.
21:7. And to the sons of Merari by their kindreds, of the tribes of
Ruben and of Gad and of Zabulon, twelve cities.
21:8. And the children of Israel gave to the Levites the cities and
their suburbs, as the Lord commanded by the hand of Moses, giving to
every one by lot.
21:9. Of the tribes of the children of Juda and of Simeon Josue gave
cities:  whose names are these,
21:10. To the sons of Aaron, of the families of Caath of the race of
Levi (for the first lot came out for them)
21:11. The city of Arbe the father of Enac, which is called Hebron, in
the mountain of Juda, and the suburbs thereof round about.
21:12. But the fields and the villages thereof he had given to Caleb
the son of Jephone for his possession.
21:13. He gave therefore to the children of Aaron the priest, Hebron a
city of refuge, and the suburbs thereof, and Lebna with the suburbs
21:14. And Jether and Estemo,
21:15. And Holon, and Dabir,
21:16. And Ain, and Jeta, and Bethsames, with their suburbs:  nine
cities out of the two tribes, as hath been said.
21:17. And out of the tribe of the children of Benjamin, Gabaon, and
21:18. And Anathoth and Almon, with, their suburbs:  four cities.
21:19. All the cities together of the children of Aaron the priest,
were thirteen, with their suburbs,
21:20. And to the rest of the families of the children of Caath of the
race of Levi was given this possession.
21:21. Of the tribe of Ephraim, Sichem one of the cities of refuge,
with the suburbs thereof in mount Ephraim, and Gazer,
21:22. And Cibsaim, and Beth-horon, with their suburbs, four cities.
21:23. And of he tribe of Dan, Eltheco and Gabathon,
21:24. And Aialon and Gethremmon, with their suburbs, four cities.
21:25. And of the half tribe of Manasses, Thanac and Gethremmon, with
their suburbs, two cities.
21:26. All the cities were ten, with their suburbs, which were given to
the children of Caath, of the inferior degree.
21:27. To the children of Gerson also of the race of Levi out of the
half tribe of Manasses, Gaulon in Basan, one of the cities of refuge,
and Bosra, with their suburbs, two cities.
21:28. And of the tribe of Issachar, Cesion, and Dabereth,
21:29. And Jaramoth, and Engannim, with their suburbs, four cities.
21:30. And of the tribe of Aser, Masal and Abdon,
21:31. And Helcath, and Rohob, with their suburbs, four cities.
21:32. Of the tribe also of Nephtali, Cedes in Galilee, one of the
cities of refuge:  and Hammoth Dor, and Carthan, with their suburbs,
three cities.
21:33. All the cities of the families of Gerson, were thirteen, with
their suburbs.
21:34. And to the children of Merari, Levites of the inferior degree,
by their families were given of the tribe of Zabulon, Jecnam and
21:35. And Damna and Naalol, four cities with their suburbs.
21:36. Of the tribe of Ruben beyond the Jordan over against Jericho,
Bosor in the wilderness, one of the cities of refuge, Misor and Jaser
and Jethson and Mephaath, four cities with their suburbs.
Four cities. . .There are no more, though there be five names:  for Misor
is the same city as Bosor, which is to be observed in some other
places, where the number of names exceeds the number of cities.
21:37. Of the tribe of Gad, Ramoth in Galaad, one of the cities of
refuge, and Manaim and Hesebon and Jaser, four cities with their
21:38. All the cities of the children of Merari by their families and
kindreds, were twelve.
21:39. So all the cities of the Levites within the possession of the
children of Israel were forty-eight,
21:40. With their suburbs, each distributed by the families.
21:41. And the Lord God gave to Israel all the land that he had sworn
to give to their fathers:  and they possessed it, and dwelt in it.
21:42. And he gave them peace from all nations round about:  and none of
their enemies durst stand against them, but were brought under their
21:43. Not so much as one word, which he had promised to perform unto
them, was made void, but all came to pass.
Josue Chapter 22
The tribes of Ruben and Gad, and half the tribe of Manasses return to
their possessions.  They build an altar by the side of the Jordan, which
alarms the other tribes.  An embassage is sent to them, to which they
give a satisfactory answer.
22:1. At the same time Josue called the Rubenites, and the Gadites, and
the half tribe of Manasses,
22:2. And said to them:  You have done all that Moses the servant of the
Lord commanded you:  you have also obeyed me in all things,
22:3. Neither have you left your brethren this long time, until this
present day, keeping the commandment of the Lord your God.
22:4. Therefore as the Lord your God hath given your brethren rest and
peace, as he promised:  return, and go to your dwellings, and to the
land of your possession, which Moses the servant of the Lord gave you
beyond the Jordan:
22:5. Yet so that you observe attentively, and in work fulfil the
commandment and the law which Moses the servant of the Lord commanded
you:  that you love the Lord your God, and walk in all his ways, and
keep all his commandments, and cleave to him, and serve him with all
your heart, and with all your soul.
22:6. And Josue blessed them, and sent them away, and they returned to
their dwellings.
22:7. Now to half the tribe of Manasses, Moses had given a possession
in Basan:  and therefore to the half that remained, Josue gave a lot
among the rest of their brethren beyond the Jordan to the west.  And
when he sent them away to their dwellings and had blessed them,
22:8. He said to them:  With much substance and riches, you return to
your settlements, with silver and gold, brass and iron, and variety of
raiment:  divide the prey of your enemies with your brethren.
22:9. So the children of Ruben, and the children of Gad, and the half
tribe of Manasses returned, and parted from the children of Israel in
Silo, which is in Chanaan, to go into Galaad the land of their
possession, which they had obtained according to the commandment of the
Lord by the hand of Moses.
22:10. And when they were come to banks of the Jordan, in the land of
Chanaan, they built an altar immensely great near the Jordan.
22:11. And when the children of Israel had heard of it, and certain
messengers brought them an account that the children of Ruben, and of
Gad, and the half tribe of Manasses had built an altar in the land of
Chanaan, upon the banks of the Jordan, over against the children of
22:12. They all assembled in Silo, to go up and fight against them.
22:13. And in the mean time they sent to them into the land of Galaad,
Phinees the son of Eleazar the priest,
22:14. And ten princes with him, one of every tribe.
22:15. Who came to the children of Ruben, and of Gad, and the half
tribe of Manasses, into the land of Galaad, and said to them:
22:16. Thus saith all the people of the Lord:  What meaneth this
transgression?  Why have you forsaken the Lord the God of Israel,
building a sacrilegious altar, and revolting from the worship of him?
22:17. Is it a small thing to you that you sinned with Beelphegor, and
the stain of that crime remaineth in us to this day?  and many of the
people perished.
22:18. And you have forsaken the Lord to day, and to morrow his wrath
will rage against all Israel.
22:19. But if you think the land of your possession to be unclean, pass
over to the land wherein is the tabernacle of the Lord, and dwell among
us:  only depart not from the Lord, and from our society, by building an
altar beside the altar of the Lord our God.
22:20. Did not Achan the son of Zare transgress the commandment of the
Lord, and his wrath lay upon all the people of Israel?  And he was but
one man, and would to God he alone had perished in his wickedness.
22:21. And the children of Ruben, and of Gad, and of the half tribe of
Manasses answered the princes of the embassage of Israel:
22:22. The Lord the most mighty God, the Lord the most mighty God, he
knoweth, and Israel also shall understand:  If with the design of
transgression we have set up this altar, let him not save us, but
punish us immediately:
22:23. And if we did it with that mind, that we might lay upon it
holocausts, and sacrifice, and victims of peace offerings, let him
require and judge:
22:24. And not rather with this thought and design, that we should say:
To morrow your children will say to our children:  What have you to do
with the Lord the God of Israel?
22:25. The Lord hath put the river Jordan for a border between us and
you, O ye children of Ruben, and ye children of Gad:  and therefore you
have no part in the Lord.  And by this occasion your children shall turn
away our children from the fear of the Lord.  We therefore thought it
22:26. And said:  Let us build us an altar, not for holocausts, nor to
offer victims,
22:27. But for a testimony between us and you, and our posterity and
yours, that we may serve the Lord, and that we may have a right to
offer both holocausts, and victims and sacrifices of peace offerings:
and that your children to morrow may not say to our children:  You have
no part in the Lord.
22:28. And if they will say so, they shall answer them:  Behold the
altar of the Lord, which our fathers made, not for holocausts, nor for
sacrifice, but for a testimony between us and you.
22:29. God keep us from any such wickedness that we should revolt from
the Lord, and leave off following his steps, by building an altar to
offer holocausts, and sacrifices, and victims, beside the altar of the
Lord our God, which is erected before his tabernacle.
22:30. And when Phinees the priest, and the princes of the embassage,
who were with him, had heard this, they were satisfied:  and they
admitted most willingly the words of the children of Ruben, and Gad,
and of the half tribe of Manasses,
22:31. And Phinees the priest the son of Eleazar said to them:  Now we
know that the Lord is with us, because you are not guilty of this
revolt, and you have delivered the children of Israel from the hand of
22:32. And he returned with the princes from the children of Ruben and
Gad, out of the land of Galaad, into the land of Chanaan, to the
children of Israel, and brought them word again.
22:33. And the saying pleased all that heard it.  And the children of
Israel praised God, and they no longer said that they would go up
against them, and fight, and destroy the land of their possession.
22:34. And the children of Ruben, and the children of Gad called the
altar which they had built, Our testimony, that the Lord is God,
Josue Chapter 23
Josue being old admonisheth the people to keep God's commandments:  and
to avoid marriages and all society with the Gentiles for fear of being
brought to idolatry.
23:1. And when a long time was passed, after that the Lord had given
peace to Israel, all the nations round about being subdued.  and Josue
being now old, and far advanced in years:
23:2. Josue called for all Israel, and for the elders, and for the
princes, and for the judges, and for the masters, and said to them:  I
am old, and far advanced in years,
23:3. And you see all that the Lord your God hath done to all the
nations round about, how he himself hath fought for you:
23:4. And now since he hath divided to you by lot all the land, from
the east of the Jordan unto the great sea, ant many nations yet remain:
23:5. The Lord your God will destroy them, and take them away from
before your face, and you shall possess the land as he hath promised
23:6. Only take courage, and be careful to observe all things that are
written in the book of the law of Moses:  and turn not aside from them
neither to the right hand nor to the left:
23:7. Lest after that you are come in among the Gentiles, who will
remain among you, you should swear by the name of their gods, and serve
them, and adore them:
23:8. But cleave ye unto the Lord your God, as you have done until this
23:9. And then the Lord God will take away before your eyes nations
that are great and very strong, and no man shall be able to resist you.
23:10. One of you shall chase a thousand men of the enemies:  because
the Lord your God himself will fight for you, as he hath promised.
23:11. This only take care of with all diligence, that you love the
Lord your God.
23:12. But if you will embrace the errors of these nations that dwell
among you, and make marriages with them, and join friendships:
23:13. Know ye for a certainty that the Lord your God will not destroy
them before your face, but they shall be a pit and a snare in your way,
and a stumbling-block at your side, and stakes in your eyes, till he
take you away and destroy you from off this excellent land, which he
hath given you.
23:14. Behold this day I am going into the way of all the earth, and
you shall know with all your mind that of all the words which the Lord
promised to perform for you, not one hath failed,
23:15. Therefore as he hath fulfilled in deed, what he promised, and
all things prosperous have come:  so will he bring upon you all the
evils he hath threatened, till he take you away and destroy you from
off this excellent land, which he hath given you,
23:16. When you shall have transgressed the covenant of the Lord your
God, which he hath made with you, and shall have served strange gods,
and adored them:  then shall the indignation of the Lord rise up quickly
and speedily against you, and you shall be taken away from this
excellent land, which he hath delivered to you.
Josue Chapter 24
Josue assembleth the people, and reneweth the covenant between them and
God.  His death and burial.
24:1. And Josue gathered together all the tribes of Israel in Sichem,
and called for the ancients, and the princes and the judges, and the
masters:  and they stood in the sight of the Lord:
24:2. And he spoke thus to the people:  Thus saith the Lord the God of
Israel:  Your fathers dwelt of old on the other side of the river, Thare
the father of Abraham, and Nachor:  and they served strange gods.
Of the river. . .The Euphrates.
24:3. And I took your father Abraham from the borders of Mesopotamia:
and brought him into the land of Chanaan:  and I multiplied his seed,
24:4. And gave him Isaac:  and to him again I gave Jacob and Esau.  And I
gave to Esau mount Seir for his possession:  but Jacob and his children
went down into Egypt.
24:5. And I sent Moses and Aaron, and I struck Egypt with many signs
and wonders.
24:6. And I brought you and your fathers out of Egypt, and you came to
the sea:  and the Egyptians pursued your fathers with chariots and
horsemen, as far as the Red Sea.
24:7. And the children of Israel cried to the Lord:  and he put darkness
between you and the Egyptians, and brought the sea upon them, and
covered them.  Your eyes saw all that I did in Egypt, and you dwelt in
the wilderness a long time.
24:8. And I brought you into the land of the Amorrhite, who dwelt
beyond the Jordan.  And when they fought against you, I delivered them
into your hands, and you possessed their land, and slew them.
24:9. And Balac son of Sephor king of Moab arose and fought against
Israel.  And he sent and called for Balaam son of Beor, to curse you:
24:10. And I would not hear him, but on the contrary I blessed you by
him, and I delivered you out of his hand.
24:11. And you passed over the Jordan, and you came to Jericho.  And the
men of that city fought against you, the Amorrhite, and the Pherezite,
and the Chanaanite, and the Hethite, and the Gergesite, and the Hevite,
and the Jebusite:  and I delivered them into your hands.
24:12. And I sent before you and I drove them out from their places,
the two kings of the Amorrhites, not with thy sword nor with thy bow,
24:13. And I gave you a land, in which you had not laboured, and cities
to dwell in which you built not, vineyards and oliveyards, which you
planted not.
24:14. Now therefore fear the Lord, and serve him with a perfect and
most sincere heart:  and put away the gods which your fathers served in
Mesopotamia and in Egypt, and serve the Lord.
24:15. But if it seem evil to you to serve the Lord, you have your
choice:  choose this day that which pleaseth you, whom you would rather
serve, whether the gods which your fathers served in Mesopotamia, or
the gods of the Amorrhites, in whose land you dwell:  but as for me and
my house we will serve thee Lord,
24:16. And the people answered, and said, God forbid we should leave
the Lord, and serve strange gods.
24:17. The Lord our God he brought us and our fathers out of the land
of Egypt, out of the house of bondage:  and did very great signs in our
sight, and preserved us in all the way by which we journeyed, and among
all the people through whom we passed.
24:18. And he hath cast out all the nations, the Amorrhite the
inhabitant of the land into which we are come.  Therefore we will serve
the Lord, for he is our God.
24:19. And Josue said to the people:  You will not be able to serve the
Lord:  for he is a holy God, and mighty and jealous, and will not
forgive your wickedness and sins.
You will not be able to serve the Lord, etc. . .This was not said by way
of discouraging them; but rather to make them more earnest and
resolute, by setting before them the greatness of the undertaking, and
the courage and constancy necessary to go through with it.
24:20. If you leave the Lord, and serve strange gods, he will turn, and
will afflict you, and will destroy you after all the good he hath done
24:21. And the people said to Josue:  No, it shall not be so as thou
sayest, but we will serve the Lord.
24:22. And Josue said to the people, You are witnesses, that you
yourselves have chosen you the Lord to serve him.  And they answered:  We
are witnesses.
24:23. Now therefore, said he, put away strange gods from among you,
and incline your hearts to the Lord the God of Israel.
24:24. And the people said to Josue:  We will serve the Lord our God,
and we will be obedient to his commandments.
24:25. Josue therefore on that day made a covenant, and set before the
people commandments and judgments in Sichem.
24:26. And he wrote all these things in the volume of the law of the
Lord:  and he took a great stone, and set it under the oak that was in
the sanctuary of the Lord.
24:27. And he said to all the people:  Behold this stone shall be a
testimony unto you, that it hath heard all the words of the Lord, which
he hath spoken to you:  lest perhaps hereafter you will deny it, and lie
to the Lord your God.
It hath heard. . .This is a figure of speech, by which sensation is
attributed to inanimate things; and they are called upon, as it were,
to bear witness in favour of the great Creator, whom they on their part
constantly obey.
24:28. And he sent the people away every one to their own possession,
24:29. And after these things Josue the son of Nun the servant of the
Lord died, being a hundred and ten years old:
And after, etc. . .If Josue wrote this book, as is commonly believed,
these last verses were added by Samuel, or some other prophet.
24:30. And they buried him in the border of his possession in
Thamnathsare, which is situate in mount Ephraim, on the north side of
24:31. And Israel served the Lord all the days of Josue, and of the
ancients that lived a long time after Josue, and that had known all the
works of the Lord which he had done in Israel.
24:32. And the bones of Joseph which the children of Israel had taken
out of Egypt, they buried in Sichem, in that part of the field which
Jacob had bought of the sons of Hemor the father of Sichem, for a
hundred young ewes, and it was in the possession of the sons of Joseph.
24:33. Eleazar also the son of Aaron died:  and they buried him in
Gabaath that belongeth to Phinees his son, which was given him in mount
THE BOOK OF JUDGES
This Book is called JUDGES, because it contains the history of what
passed under the government of the judges, who ruled Israel before they
had kings.  The writer of it, according to the more general opinion, was
the prophet Samuel.
Judges Chapter 1
The expedition and victory of Juda against the Chanaanites:  who are
tolerated in many places.
1:1. After the death of Josue, the children of Israel consulted the
Lord, saying:  Who shall go up before us against the Chanaanite, and
shall be the leader of the war?
1:2. And the Lord said:  Juda shall go up:  behold I have delivered the
land into his hands.
1:3. And Juda said to Simeon, his brother:  Come up with me into my lot,
and fight against the Chanaanite, that I also may go along with thee
into thy lot.  And Simeon went with him.
1:4. And Juda went up, and the Lord delivered the Chanaanite, and the
Pherezite into their hands:  and they slew of them in Bezec ten thousand
1:5. And they found Adonibezec in Bezec, and fought against him, and
they defeated the Chanaanite, and the Pherezite.
1:6. And Adonibezec fled:  and they pursued after him and took him, and
cut off his fingers and toes.
1:7. And Adonibezec said:  Seventy kings, having their fingers and toes
cut off, gathered up the leavings of the meat under my table:  as I have
done, so hath God requited me.  And they brought him to Jerusalem, and
he died there.
1:8. And the children of Juda besieging Jerusalem, took it, and put it
to the sword, and set the whole city on fire.
Jerusalem. . .This city was divided into two; one part was called Jebus,
the other Salem:  the one was in the tribe of Juda, the other in the
tribe of Benjamin.  After it was taken and burnt by the men of Juda, it
was quickly rebuilt again by the Jebusites, as we may gather from ver.
21; and continued in their possession till it was taken by king David.
1:9. And afterwards they went down and fought against the Chanaanite,
who dwelt in the mountains, and in the south, and in the plains.
1:10. And Juda going forward against the Chanaanite, that dwelt in
Hebron, (the name whereof was in former times Cariath-Arbe) slew Sesai,
and Ahiman, and Tholmai:
Hebron. . .This expedition against Hebron, etc. is the same as is
related, Jos. 15.24.  It is here repeated, to give the reader at once a
short sketch of all the achievements of the tribe of Juda against the
Chanaanites.
1:11. And departing from thence, he went to the inhabitants of Dabir,
the ancient name of which was Cariath-Sepher, that is, the city of
The city of letters. . .Perhaps so called from some famous school, or
library, kept there.
1:12. And Caleb said:  He that shall take Cariath-Sepher, and lay it
waste, to him will I give my daughter Axa to wife.
1:13. And Othoniel, the son of Cenez, the younger brother of Caleb,
having taken it, he gave him Axa his daughter to wife.
1:14. And as she was going on her way, her husband admonished her to
ask a field of her father.  And as she sighed sitting on her ass, Caleb
said to her:  What aileth thee?
1:15. But she answered:  Give me a blessing, for thou hast given me a
dry land:  give me also a watery land So Caleb gave her the upper and
the nether watery ground.
1:16. And the children of the Cinite, the kinsman of Moses, went up
from the city of palms, with the children of Juda, into the wilderness
of his lot, which is at the south side of Arad, and they dwelt with
The Cinite. . .Jethro the father in law of Moses was called Cinoeus, or
the Cinite; and his children who came along with the children of Israel
settled themselves among them in the land of Chanaan, embracing their
worship and religion.  From these the Rechabites sprung, of whom see
Jer. 35.--Ibid.  The city of palms. . .Jericho, so called from the
abundance of palm trees.
1:17. And Juda went with Simeon, his brother, and they together
defeated the Chanaanites that dwelt in Sephaath, and slew them.  And the
name of the city was called Horma, that is, Anathema.
1:18. And Juda took Gaza, with its confines, and Ascalon, and Accaron,
with their confines.
Gaza, etc. . .These were three of the principal cities of the
Philistines, famous both in sacred and profane history.  They were taken
at this time by the Israelites:  but as they took no care to put
garrisons in them, the Philistines soon recovered them.
1:19. And the Lord was with Juda, and he possessed the hill country:
but was not able to destroy the inhabitants of the valley, because they
had many chariots armed with scythes.
Was not able, etc. . .Through a cowardly fear of their chariots armed
with hooks and scythes, and for want of confidence in God.
1:20. And they gave Hebron to Caleb, as Moses had said, who destroyed
out of it the three sons of Enac.
1:21. But the sons of Benjamin did not destroy the Jebusites that
inhabited Jerusalem:  and the Jebusite hath dwelt with the sons of
Benjamin in Jerusalem until this present day.
1:22. The house of Joseph also went up against Bethel, and the Lord was
1:23. For when they were besieging the city, which before was called
1:24. They saw a man coming out of the city, and they said to him:  Shew
us the entrance into the city, and we will shew thee mercy.
1:25. And when he had shewed them, they smote the city with the edge of
the sword:  but that man, and all his kindred, they let go:
1:26. Who being sent away, went into the land of Hetthim, and built
there a city, and called it Luza:  which is so called until this day.
1:27. Manasses also did not destroy Bethsan, and Thanac, with their
villages; nor the inhabitants of Dor, and Jeblaam, and Mageddo, with
their villages.  And the Chanaanite began to dwell with them.
1:28. But after Israel was grown strong, he made them tributaries, and
would not destroy them.
1:29. Ephraim also did not slay the Chanaanite that dwelt in Gazer, bnt
dwelt with him.
1:30. Zabulon destroyed not the inhabitants of Cetron, and Naalol:  but
the Chanaanite dwelt among them, and became their tributary.
1:31. Aser also destroyed not the inhabitants of Accho, and of Sidon,
of Ahalab, and of Achazib, and of Helba, and of Aphec, and of Rohob:
1:32. And he dwelt in the midst of the Chanaanites, the inhabitants of
that land, and did not slay them.
1:33. Nephthali also destroyed not the inhabitants of Bethsames, and of
Bethanath:  and he dwelt in the midst of the Chanaanites, the
inhabitants of the land, and the Bethsamites and Bethanites were
tributaries to him.
1:34. And the Amorrhite straitened the children of Dan in the mountain,
and gave them not a place to go down to the plain:
1:35. And he dwelt in the mountain Hares, that is, of potsherds, in
Aialon and Salebim.  And the hand of the house of Joseph was heavy upon
him, and he became tributary to him.
He dwelt. . .That is, the Amorrhite.
1:36. And the border of the Amorrhite was from the ascent of the
scorpion, the rock, and the higher places.
Judges Chapter 2
An angel reproveth Israel.  They weep for their sins.  After the death of
Josue, they often fall, and repenting are delivered from their
afflictions, but still fall worse and worse.
2:1. And an angel of the Lord went up from Galgal to the place of
weepers, and said:  I made you go out of Egypt, and have brought you
into the land for which I swore to your fathers:  and I promised that I
would not make void my covenant with you for ever:
An angel. . .Taking the shape of a man.
2:2. On condition that you should not make a league with the
inhabitants of this land, but should throw down their altars:  and you
would not hear my voice:  why have you done this?
2:3. Wherefore I would not destroy them from before your face; that you
may have enemies, and their gods may be your ruin.
2:4. And when the angel of the Lord spoke these words to all the
children of Israel:  they lifted up their voice, and wept.
2:5. And the name of that place was called, The place of weepers, or of
tears:  and there they offered sacrifices to the Lord.
2:6. And Josue sent away the people, and the children of Israel went
every one to his own possession to hold it:
And Josue, etc. . .This is here inserted out of Jos. 24, by way of
recapitulation of what had happened before, and by way of an
introduction to that which follows.
2:7. And they served the Lord all his days, and the days of the
ancients, that lived a long time after him, and who knew all the works
of the Lord, which he had done for Israel.
2:8. And Josue, the son of Nun, the servant of the Lord, died, being a
hundred and ten years old;
2:9. And they buried him in the borders of his possession in
Thamnathsare, in Mount Ephraim, on the north side of Mount Gaas.
2:10. And all that generation was gathered to their fathers:  and there
arose others that knew not the Lord and the works which he had done for
2:11. And the children of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord, and
they served Baalim
2:12. And they left the Lord, the God of their fathers, who had brought
them out of the land of Egypt:  and they followed strange gods, and the
gods of the people that dwelt round about them, and they adored them:
and they provoked the Lord to anger,
They followed strange gods. . .What is here said of the children of
Israel, as to their falling so often into idolatry, is to be understood
of a great part of them; but not so universally, as if the true worship
of God was ever quite abolished among them:  for the succession of the
true church and religion was kept up all this time by the priests and
Levites, at least in the house of God in Silo.
2:13. Forsaking him, and serving Baal and Astaroth
2:14. And the Lord being angry against Israel, delivered them into the
hands of plunderers:  who took them and sold them to their enemies, that
dwelt round about:  neither could they stand against their enemies:
2:15. But whithersoever they meant to go, the hand of the Lord was upon
them, as he had said, and as he had sworn to them:  and they were
greatly distressed.
2:16. And the Lord raised up judges, to deliver them from the hands of
those that oppressed them:  but they would not hearken to them,
2:17. Committing fornication with strange gods, and adoring them.  They
quickly forsook the way, in which their fathers had walked:  and hearing
the commandments of the Lord, they did all things contrary.
2:18. And when the Lord raised them up judges, in their days, he was
moved to mercy, and heard the groanings of the afflicted, and delivered
them from the slaughter of the oppressors.
2:19. But after the judge was dead, they returned, and did much worse
things than their fathers had done, following strange gods, serving
them, and adoring them.  They left not their own inventions, and the
stubborn way, by which they were accustomed to walk.
2:20. And the wrath of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and he
said:  Behold this nation hath made void my covenant, which I had made
with their fathers, and hath despised to hearken to my voice:
2:21. I also will not destroy the nations which Josue left when he
2:22. That through them I may try Israel, whether they will keep the
way of the Lord, and walk in it, as their fathers kept it, or not.
2:23. The Lord therefore left all these nations, and would not quickly
destroy them, neither did he deliver them into the hands of Josue.
Judges Chapter 3
The people falling into idolatry are oppressed by their enemies; but
repenting are delivered by Othoniel, Aod, and Samgar.
3:1. These are the nations which the Lord left, that by them he might
instruct Israel, and all that had not known the wars of the
Chanaanites:
3:2. That afterwards their children might learn to fight with their
enemies, and to be trained up to war:
3:3. The five princes of the Philistines, and all the Chanaanites, and
the Sidonians, and the Hevites that dwelt in Mount Libanus, from Mount
Baal Hermon to the entering into Emath.
3:4. And he left them, that he might try Israel by them, whether they
would hear the commandments of the Lord, which he had commanded their
fathers, by the hand of Moses, or not.
3:5. So the children of Israel dwelt in the midst of the Chanaanite,
and the Hethite, and the Amorrhite, and the Pherezite, and the Hevite,
and the Jebusite:
3:6. And they took their daughters to wives, and they gave their own
daughters to their sons, and they served their gods.
3:7. And they did evil in the sight of the Lord, and they forgot their
God, and served Baalim and Astaroth.
3:8. And the Lord being angry with Israel, delivered them into the
hands of Chusan Rasathaim, king of Mesopotamia, and they served him
eight years.
Mesopotamia. . .In Hebrew Aramnaharim.  Syria of the two rivers:  so
called because it lies between the Euphrates and the Tigris.  It is
absolutely called Syria, ver. 10.
3:9. And they cried to the Lord, who raised them up a saviour, and
delivered them; to wit, Othoniel, the son of Cenez, the younger brother
3:10. And the spirit of the Lord was in him, and he judged Israel.  And
he went out to fight, and the Lord delivered Chusan Rasathaim, king of
Syria, and he overthrew him:
3:11. And the land rested forty years, and Othoniel, the son of Cenez,
3:12. And the children of Israel did evil again in the sight of the
Lord:  who strengthened against them Eglon, king of Moab:  because they
did evil in his sight.
3:13. And he joined to him the children of Ammon, and Amalec:  and he
went and overthrew Israel, and possessed the city of palm trees.
3:14. And the children of Israel served Eglon, king of Moab, eighteen
3:15. And afterwards they cried to the Lord, who raised them up a
saviour, called Aod, the son of Cera, the son of Jemini, who used the
left hand as well as the right.  And the children of Israel sent
presents to Eglon, king of Moab, by him.
3:16. And he made himself a two-edged sword, with a haft in the midst
of the length of the palm of the hand, and was girded therewith, under
his garment, on the right thigh.
3:17. And he presented the gifts to Eglon, king of Moab Now Eglon was
exceeding fat.
3:18. And when he had presented the gifts unto him he followed his
companions that came along with him.
3:19. Then returning from Galgal, where the idols were, he said to the
king:  I have a secret message to thee, O king.  And he commanded
silence:  and all being gone out that were about him,
3:20. Aod went in to him:  now he was sitting in a summer parlour alone,
and he said:  I have a word from God to thee.  And he forthwith rose up
from his throne.
A word from God, etc. . .What Aod, who was judge and chief magistrate of
Israel, did on this occasion, was by a special inspiration of God:  but
such things are not to be imitated by private men.
3:21. And Aod put forth his left hand, and took the dagger from his
right thigh, and thrust it into his belly,
3:22. With such force that the haft went in after the blade into the
wound, and was closed up with the abundance of fat.  So that he did not
draw out the dagger, but left it in the body as he had struck it in:
and forthwith, by the secret parts of nature, the excrements of the
belly came out.
3:23. And Aod carefully shutting the doors of the parlour, and locking
3:24. Went out by a postern door.  And the king's servants going in, saw
the doors of the parlour shut, and they said:  Perhaps he is easing
nature in his summer parlour.
3:25. And waiting a long time, till they were ashamed, and seeing that
no man opened the door, they took a key:  and opening, they found their
lord lying dead on the ground.
3:26. But Aod, while they were in confusion, escaped, and passed by the
place of the idols from whence he had returned.  And he came to Seirath:
3:27. And forthwith he sounded the trumpet in Mount Ephraim:  and the
children of Israel went down with him, he himself going in the front.
3:28. And he said to them:  Follow me:  for the Lord hath delivered our
enemies, the Moabites, into our hands.  And they went down after him,
and seized upon the fords of the Jordan, which are in the way to Moab:
and they suffered no man to pass over:
3:29. But they slew of the Moabites at that time, about ten thousand,
all strong and valiant men:  none of them could escape.
3:30. And Moab was humbled that day under the hand of Israel:  and the
land rested eighty years.
3:31. After him was Samgar, the son of Anath, who slew of the
Philistines six hundred men with a ploughshare:  and he also defended
Judges Chapter 4
Debbora and Barac deliver Israel from Jabin and Sisara, Jahal killeth
4:1. And the children of Israel again did evil in the sight of the Lord
after the death of Aod:
4:2. And the Lord delivered them up into the hands of Jabin, king of
Chanaan, who reigned in Asor:  and he had a general of his army named
Sisara, and he dwelt in Haroseth of the Gentiles.
4:3. And the children of Israel cried to the Lord:  for he had nine
hundred chariots set with scythes and for twenty years had grievously
oppressed them.
4:4. And there was at that time Debbora, a prophetess, the wife of
Lapidoth, who judged the people.
4:5. And she sat under a palm tree, which was called by her name,
between Rama and Bethel, in Mount Ephraim:  and the children of Israel
came up to her for all judgment.
4:6. And she sent and called Barac, the Son of Abinoem, out of Cedes,
in Nephthali:  and she said to him:  The Lord God of Israel hath
commanded thee:  Go, and lead an army to Mount Thabor, and thou shalt
take with thee ten thousand fighting men of the children of Nephthali,
and of the children of Zabulon:
4:7. And I will bring unto thee in the place of the torrent Cison,
Sisara, the general of Jabin's army, and his chariots, and all his
multitude, and will deliver them into thy hand.
4:8. And Barac said to her:  If thou wilt come with me, I will go:  if
thou wilt not come with me, I will not go.
4:9. She said to him:  I will go, indeed, with thee, but at this time
the victory shall not be attributed to thee, because Sisara shall be
delivered into the hand of a woman.  Debbora therefore arose, and went
with Barac to Cedes.
4:10. And he called unto him Zabulon and Nephthali, and went up with
ten thousand fighting men, having Debbora in his company.
4:11. Now Haber, the Cinite, had some time before departed from the
rest of the Cinites, his brethren, the sons of Hobab, the kinsman of
Moses:  and had pitched his tents unto the valley, which is called
Sennim, and was near Cedes.
4:12. And it was told Sisara, that Barac, the son of Abinoem, was gone
up to Mount Thabor:
4:13. And he gathered together his nine hundred chariots armed with
scythes, and all his army, from Haroseth of the Gentiles, to the
torrent Cison.
4:14. And Debbora said to Barac:  Arise, for this is the day wherein the
Lord hath delivered Sisara into thy hands:  behold, he is thy leader.
And Barac went down from Mount Thabor, and ten thousand fighting men
4:15. And the Lord struck a terror into Sisara, and all his chariots,
and all his multitude, with the edge of the sword, at the sight of
Barac; insomuch, that Sisara leaping down from off his chariot, fled
away on foot,
4:16. And Barac pursued after the fleeing chariots, and the army, unto
Haroseth of the Gentiles; and all the multitude of the enemies was
utterly destroyed.
4:17. But Sisara fleeing, came to the tent of Jahel, the wife of Haber,
the Cinite, for there was peace between Jabin, the king of Asor, and
the house of Haber, the Cinite.
4:18. And Jahel went forth to meet Sisara, and said to him:  Come in to
me, my lord; come in, fear not.  He went into her tent, and being
covered by her with a cloak,
4:19. Said to her:  Give me, I beseech thee, a little water, for I am
very thirsty.  She opened a bottle of milk, and gave him to drink, and
covered him.
4:20. And Sisara said to her:  Stand before the door of the tent, and
when any shall come and inquire of thee, saying:  Is there any man here?
thou shalt say:  There is none.
4:21. So Jahel, Haber's wife, took a nail of the tent, and taking also
a hammer:  and going in softly, and with silence, she put the nail upon
the temples of his head, and striking it with the hammer, drove it
through his brain fast into the ground:  and so passing from deep sleep
to death, he fainted away and died.
4:22. And behold, Barac came pursuing after Sisara:  and Jahel went out
to meet him, and said to him:  Come, and I will shew thee the man whom
thou seekest.  And when he came into her tent, he saw Sisara lying dead,
and the nail fastened in his temples.
4:23. So God that day humbled Jabin, the king of Chanaan, before the
children of Israel:
4:24. Who grew daily stronger, and with a mighty hand overpowered
Jabin, king of Chanaan, till they quite destroyed him.
Judges Chapter 5
The canticle of Debbora and Barac after their victory.
5:1. In that day Debbora and Barac, son of Abinoem, sung, and said:
5:2. O you of Israel, that have willingly offered your lives to danger,
bless the Lord.
5:3. Hear, O ye kings, give ear, O ye princes:  It is I, it is I, that
will sing to the Lord, I will sing to the Lord, the God of Israel.
5:4. O Lord, when thou wentest out of Seir, and passedst by the regions
of Edom, the earth trembled, and the heavens and clouds dropped water.
5:5. The mountains melted before the face of the Lord, and Sinai before
the face of the Lord the God of Israel.
5:6. In the days of Samgar, the son of Anath, in the days of Jahel, the
paths rested:  and they that went by them, walked through bye-ways.
The paths rested. . .The ways to the sanctuary of God were unfrequented:
and men walked in the by-ways of error and sin.
5:7. The valiant men ceased, and rested in Israel:  until Debbora arose,
a mother arose in Israel.
5:8. The Lord chose new wars, and he himself overthrew the gates of the
enemies:  a shield and spear was not seen among forty thousand of
5:9. My heart loveth the princes of Israel:  O you, that of your own
good will offered yourselves to danger, bless the Lord.
5:10.  Speak, you that ride upon fair asses, and you that sit in
judgment, and walk in the way.
5:11. Where the chariots were dashed together, and the army of the
enemies was choked, there let the justices of the Lord be rehearsed,
and his clemency towards the brave men of Israel:  then the people of
the Lord went down to the gates, and obtained the sovereignty.
5:12. Arise, arise, O Debbora, arise, arise, and utter a canticle.
Arise, Barac, and take hold of thy captives, O son of Abinoem.
5:13. The remnants of the people are saved, the Lord hath fought among
the valiant ones.
5:14. Out of Ephraim he destroyed them into Amalec, and after him out
of Benjamin into thy people, O Amalec:  Out of Machir there came down
princes, and out of Zabulon they that led the army to fight.
Out of Ephraim, etc. . .The enemies straggling in their flight were
destroyed, as they were running through the land of Ephraim, and of
Benjamin, which lies after, that is beyond Ephraim:  and so on to the
very confines of Amalec.  Or, it alludes to former victories of the
people of God, particularly that which was freshest in memory, when the
men of Ephraim and Benjamin, with Aod at their head, overthrew their
enemies the Moabites with the Amalecites their allies.  See chap.
3.--Ibid.  Machir. . .The tribe of Manasses, whose eldest son was Machir.
5:15. The captains of Issachar were with Debbora, and followed the
steps of Barac, who exposed himself to danger, as one going headlong,
and into a pit.  Ruben being divided against himself, there was found a
strife of courageous men.
Divided against himself, etc. . .By this it seems that the valient men
of the tribe of Ruben were divided in their sentiments, with relation
to this war; which division kept them at home within their own borders,
to hear the bleating of their flocks.
5:16. Why dwellest thou between two borders, that thou mayst hear the
bleatings of the flocks?  Ruben being divided against himself, there was
found a strife of courageous men.
5:17. Galaad rested beyond the Jordan, and Dan applied himself to
ships:  Aser dwelt on the sea shore, and abode in the havens.
5:18. But Zabulon and Nephthali offered their lives to death in the
region of Merome.
5:19. The kings came and fought, the kings of Chanaan fought in Thanac,
by the waters of Mageddo and yet they took no spoils.
5:20. There was war made against them from heaven:  the stars, remaining
in their order and courses, fought against Sisara.
5:21. The torrent of Cison dragged their carcasses, the torrent of
Cadumim, the torrent of Cison:  tread thou, my soul, upon the strong
5:22. The hoofs of the horses were broken whilst the stoutest of the
enemies fled amain, and fell headlong down.
5:23. Curse ye the land of Meroz, said the angel of the Lord:  curse the
inhabitants thereof, because they came not to the help of the Lord, to
help his most valiant men.
Meroz. . .Where this land of Meroz was, which is here laid under a
curse, we cannot find:  nor is there mention of it anywhere else in holy
writ.  In the spiritual sense, they are cursed who refuse to assist the
people of God in their warfare against their spiritual enemies.
5:24. Blessed among women be Jahel, the wife of Haber the Cinite, and
blessed be she in her tent.
5:25. He asked her water, and she gave him milk, and offered him butter
in a dish fit for princes.
5:26. She put her left hand to the nail, and her right hand to the
workman's hammer, and she struck Sisara, seeking in his head a place
for the wound, and strongly piercing through his temples.
5:27. Between her feet he fell:  he fainted, and he died:  he rolled
before her feet, and there he lay lifeless and wretched.
5:28. His mother looked out at a window, and howled:  and she spoke from
the dining room:  Why is his chariot so long in coming back?  Why are the
feet of his horses so slow?
5:29. One that was wiser than the rest of his wives, returned this
answer to her mother in law:
5:30. Perhaps he is now dividing the spoils, and the fairest of the
women is chosen out for him:  garments of divers colours are given to
Sisara for his prey, and furniture of different kinds is heaped
together to adorn necks.
5:31. So let all thy enemies perish, O Lord:  but let them that love
thee shine, as the sun shineth in his rising.
5:32. And the land rested for forty years.
Judges Chapter 6
The people for their sins, are oppressed by the Madianites.  Gedeon is
called to deliver them.
6:1. And the children of Israel again did evil in the sight of the
Lord:  and he delivered them into the hand of Madian seven years,
6:2. And they were grievously oppressed by them.  And they made
themselves dens and caves in the mountains, and strong holds to resist.
6:3. And when Israel had sown, Madian and Amalec, and the rest of the
eastern nations, came up:
6:4. And pitching their tents among them, wasted all things as they
were in the blade, even to the entrance of Gaza:  and they left nothing
at all in Israel for sustenance of life, nor sheep, nor oxen, nor
6:5. For they and all their flocks came with their tents, and like
locusts filled all places, an innumerable multitude of men, and of
camels, wasting whatsoever they touched.
6:6. And Israel was humbled exceedingly in the sight of Madian.
6:7. And he cried to the Lord, desiring help against the Madianites.
6:8. And he sent unto them a prophet, and he spoke:  Thus saith the
Lord, the God of Israel:  I made you to come up out of Egypt, and
brought you out of the house of bondage,
6:9. And delivered you out of the hands of the Egyptians, and of all
the enemies that afflicted you:  and I cast them out at your coming in,
and gave you their land.
6:10. And I said:  I am the Lord your God, fear not the gods of the
Amorrhites, in whose land you dwell.  And you would not hear my voice.
6:11. And an angel of the Lord came, and sat under an oak that was in
Ephra, and belonged to Joas, the father of the family of Ezri.  And when
Gedeon, his son, was threshing and cleansing wheat by the winepress, to
flee from Madian,
6:12. The angel of the Lord appeared to him, and said:  The Lord is with
thee, O most valiant of men.
6:13. And Gedeon said to him:  I beseech thee, my lord, if the Lord be
with us, why have these evils fallen upon us?  Where are his miracles,
which our fathers have told us of, saying:  The Lord brought us out of
Egypt but now the Lord hath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hand
6:14. And the Lord looked upon him, and said:  Go, in this thy strength,
and thou shalt deliver Israel out of the hand of Madian:  know that I
have sent thee.
6:15. He answered, and said:  I beseech thee, my lord wherewith shall I
deliver Israel?  Behold, my family is the meanest in Manasses, and I am
the least in my father's house.
The meanest in Manasses, etc. . .Mark how the Lord chooseth the humble
(who are mean and little in their own eyes) for the greatest
enterprises.
6:16. And the Lord said to him:  I will be with thee:  and thou shalt cut
off Madian as one man.
6:17. And he said:  If I have found grace before thee, give me a sign
that it is thou that speakest to me:
6:18. And depart not hence, till I return to thee, and bring a
sacrifice, and offer it to thee.  And he answered:  I will wait thy
6:19. So Gedeon went in, and boiled a kid, and made unleavened loaves
of a measure of flour:  and putting the flesh in a basket, and the broth
of the flesh into a pot, he carried all under the oak, and presented to
6:20. And the angel of the Lord said to him:  Take the flesh and the
unleavened loaves, and lay them upon that rock, and pour out the broth
thereon.  And when he had done so,
6:21. The angel of the Lord put forth the tip of the rod, which he held
in his hand, and touched the flesh and the unleavened loaves:  and there
arose a fire from the rock, and consumed the flesh and the unleavened
loaves:  and the angel of the Lord vanished out of his sight.
6:22. And Gedeon seeing that it was the angel of the Lord, said:  Alas,
my Lord God:  for I have seen the angel of the Lord face to face.
6:23. And the Lord said to him:  Peace be with thee:  fear not, thou
shalt not die.
6:24. And Gedeon built there an altar to the Lord, and called it the
Lord's peace, until this present day.  And when he was yet in Ephra,
which is of the family of Ezri,
6:25. That night the Lord said to him:  Take a bullock of thy father's,
and another bullock of seven years, and thou shalt destroy the altar of
Baal, which is thy father's:  and cut down the grove that is about the
6:26. And thou shalt build un altar to the Lord thy God, in the top of
this rock, whereupon thou didst lay the sacrifice before:  and thou
shalt take the second bullock, and shalt offer a holocaust upon a pile
of the wood, which thou shalt cut down out of the grove.
6:27. Then Gedeon, taking ten men of his servants, did as the Lord had
commanded him.  But fearing his father's house, and the men of that
city, he would not do it by day, but did all by night.
6:28. And when the men of that town were risen in the morning, they saw
the altar of Baal destroyed, and the grove cut down, and the second
bullock laid upon the altar, which then was built.
6:29. And they said one to another:  Who hath done this?  And when they
inquired for the author of the fact, it was said:  Gedeon, the son of
Joas, did all this.
6:30. And they said to Joas:  Bring out thy son hither, that he may die:
because he hath destroyed the altar of Baal, and hath cut down his
6:31. He answered them:  Are you the avengers of Baal, that you fight
for him?  he that is his adversary, let him die before to morrow light
appear:  if he be a god, let him revenge himself on him that hath cast
down his altar.
6:32. From that day Gedeon was called Jerobaal, because Joas had said:
Let Baal revenge himself on him that hath cast down his altar.
6:33. Now all Madian, and Amalec, and the eastern people, were gathered
together, and passing over the Jordan, camped in the valley of Jezrael.
6:34. But the spirit of the Lord came upon Gedeon, and he sounded the
trumpet, and called together the house of Abiezer, to follow him.
6:35. And he sent messengers into all Manasses, and they also followed
him :  and other messengers into Aser and Zabulon, and Nephthali, and
they came to meet him.
6:36. And Gedeon said to God:  If thou wilt save Israel by my hand, as
thou hast said,
6:37. I will put this fleece of wool on the floor:  if there be dew in
the fleece only, and it be dry on all the ground beside, I shall know
that by my hand, as thou hast said, thou wilt deliver Israel.
6:38. And it was so.  And rising before day, wringing the fleece, he
filled a vessel with the dew.
6:39. And he said again to God:  Let not thy wrath be kindled against
me, if I try once more, seeking a sign in the fleece.  I pray that the
fleece only may be dry, and all the ground wet with dew.
6:40. And God did that night as he had requested:  and it was dry on the
fleece only, and there was dew on all the ground.
Judges Chapter 7
Gedeon, with three hundred men, by stratagem defeateth the Madianites.
7:1. Then Jerobaal, who is the same as Gedeon, rising up early, and all
the people with him, came to the fountain that is called Harad.  Now the
camp of Madian was in the valley, on the north side of the high hill.
7:2. And the Lord said to Gedeon:  The people that are with thee are
many, and Madian shall not be delivered into their hands:  lest Israel
should glory against me, and say:  I was delivered by my own strength.
Lest Israel, etc. . .By this we see that God will not choose for his
instruments in great achievements, which depend purely on his grace,
such as, through pride and self conceit, will take the glory to
7:3. Speak to the people, and proclaim in the hearing of all:  Whosoever
is fearful and timorous, let him return.  So two and twenty thousand men
went away from Mount Galaad and returned home, and only ten thousand
7:4. And the Lord said to Gedeon:  The people are still too many, bring
them to the waters, and there I will try them:  and of whom I shall say
to thee, This shall go with thee, let him go:  whom I shall forbid to
go, let him return.
7:5. And when the people were come down to the waters, the Lord said to
Gedeon:  They that shall lap the water with their tongues, as dogs are
wont to lap, thou shalt set apart by themselves:  but they that shall
drink bowing down their knees, shall be on the other side.
7:6. And the number of them that had lapped water; casting it with the
hand to their mouth, was three hundred men:  and all the rest of the
multitude had drunk kneeling.
7:7. And the Lord said to Gedeon:  By the three hundred men, that lapped
water, I will save you, and deliver Madian into thy hand:  but let all
the rest of the people return to their place.
That lapped water. . .These were preferred that took the water up in
their hands, and so lapped it, before them who laid themselves quite
down to the waters to drink:  which argued a more eager and sensual
disposition.
7:8. So taking victuals and trumpets according to their number, he
ordered all the rest of the multitude to depart to their tents:  and he
with the three hundred gave himself to the battle.  Now the camp of
Madia was beneath him in the valley.
7:9. The same night the Lord said to him:  Arise, and go down into the
camp:  because I have delivered them into thy hand.
7:10. But if thou be afraid to go alone, let Phara, thy servant, go
down with thee.
7:11. And when thou shalt hear what they are saying, then shall thy
hands be strengthened, and thou shalt go down more secure to the
enemies' camp.  And he went down with Phara his servant, into part of
the camp, where was the watch of men in arms.
7:12. But Madian and Amalec, and all the eastern people, lay scattered
in the valley, as a multitude of locusts:  their camels also were
innumerable, as the sand that lieth on the sea shore.
7:13. And when Gedeon was come, one told his neighbour a dream:  and in
this manner related what he had seen:  I dreamt a dream, and it seemed
to me as if a hearth cake of barley bread rolled and came down into the
camp of Madian:  and when it was come to a tent, it struck it, and beat
it down flat to the ground.
A dream. . .Observation of dreams is commonly superstitious, and as such
is condemned in the word of God:  but in some extraordinary cases, as we
here see, God is pleased by dreams to foretell what he is about to do.
7:14. He to whom he spoke, answered:  This is nothing else but the sword
of Gedeon, the son of Joas, a man of Israel.  For the Lord hath
delivered Madian, and all their camp into his hand.
7:15. And when Gedeon had heard the dream, and the interpretation
thereof, he adored:  and returned to the camp of Israel, and said:
Arise, for the Lord hath delivered the camp of Madian into our hands.
7:16. And he divided the three hundred men into three parts, and gave
them trumpets in their hands, and empty pitchers, and lamps within the
7:17. And he said to them:  What you shall see me do, do you the same:  I
will go into one part of the camp, and do you as I shall do.
7:18. When the trumpet shall sound in my hand, do you also blow the
trumpets on every side of the camp, and shout together to the Lord and
7:19. And Gedeon, and the three hundred men that were with him, went
into part of the camp, at the beginning of the midnight watch, and the
watchmen being alarmed, they began to sound their trumpets, and to clap
the pitchers one against another.
Their trumpets, etc. . .In a mystical sense, the preachers of the
gospel, in order to spiritual conquests, must not only sound with the
trumpet of the word of God, but must also break their earthen pitchers,
by the mortification of the flesh and its passions, and carry lamps in
their hands by the light of their virtues.
7:20. And when they sounded their trumpets in three places round about
the camp, and had broken their pitchers, they held their lamps in their
left hands, and with their right hands the trumpets which they blew,
and they cried out:  The sword of the Lord and of Gedeon:
7:21. Standing every man in his place round about the enemies' camp.  So
all the camp was troubled, and crying out and howling, they fled away:
7:22. And the three hundred men nevertheless persisted sounding the
trumpets.  And the Lord sent the sword into all the camp, and they
killed one another,
7:23. Fleeing as far as Bethsetta, and the border of Abelmahula, in
Tebbath.  But the men of Israel, shouting from Nephthali, and Aser, and
from all Manasses, pursued after Madian.
7:24. And Gedeon sent messengers into all Mount Ephraim, saying:  Come
down to meet Madian, and take the waters before them to Bethbera and
the Jordan.  And all Ephraim shouted, and took the waters before them
and the Jordan as far as Bethbera.
7:25. And having taken two men of Madian, Oreb and Zeb:  Oreb they slew
in the rock of Oreb, and Zeb in the winepress of Zeb.  And they pursued
Madian, carrying the heads of Oreb and Zeb to Gedeon, beyond the waters
of the Jordan.
Two men. . .That is, two of their chiefs.
Judges Chapter 8
Gedeon appeaseth the Ephraimites.  Taketh Zebee and Salmana.  Destroyeth
Soccoth and Phanuel.  Refuseth to be king.  Maketh an ephod of the gold
of the prey, and dieth in a good old age.  The people return to
8:1. And the men of Ephraim said to him:  What is this that thou meanest
to do, that thou wouldst not call us, when thou wentest to fight
against Madian?  And they chid him sharply, and almost offered violence.
8:2. And he answered them:  What could I have done like to that which
you have done?  Is not one bunch of grapes of Ephraim better than the
vintages of Abiezer?
What could I, etc. . .A meek and humble answer appeased them; who
otherwise might have come to extremities.  So great is the power of
humility both with God and man.
8:3. The Lord hath delivered into your hands the princes of Madian,
Oreb and Zeb:  what could I have done like to what you have done?  And
when he had said this, their spirit was appeased, with which they
swelled against him.
8:4. And when Gedeon was come to the Jordan, he passed over it with the
three hundred men that were with him:  who were so weary that they could
not pursue after them that fled.
8:5. And he said to the men of Soccoth:  Give, I beseech you, bread to
the people that is with me, for they are faint:  that we may pursue
Zebee, and Salmana, the kings of Madian.
8:6. The princes of Soccoth answered:  Peradventure the palms of the
hands of Zebee and Salmana are in thy hand, and therefore thou
demandest that we should give bread to thy army.
8:7. And he said to them:  When the Lord therefore shall have delivered
Zebee and Salmana into my hands, I will thresh your flesh with the
thorns and briers of the desert.
8:8. And going up from thence, he came to Phanuel:  and he spoke the
like things to the men of that place.  And they also answered him, as
the men of Soccoth had answered.
8:9. He said, therefore, to them also:  When I shall return a conqueror
in peace, I will destroy this tower.
8:10. But Zebee and Salmana were resting with all their army.  For
fifteen thousand men were left of all the troops of the eastern people,
and one hundred and twenty thousand warriors that drew the sword were
8:11. And Gedeon went up by the way of them that dwelt in tents, on the
east of Nobe and Jegbaa, and smote the camp of the enemies, who were
secure, and suspected no hurt.
8:12. And Zebee and Salmana fled, and Gedeon pursued and took them, all
their host being put in confusion.
8:13. And returning from the battle before the sun rising,
8:14. He took a boy of the men of Soccoth:  and he asked him the names
of the princes and ancients of Soccoth, and he described unto him
seventy-seven men.
8:15. And he came to Soccoth, and said to them:  Behold Zebee, and
Salmana, concerning whom you upbraided me, saying:  Peradventure the
hands of Zebee and Salmana are in thy hands, and therefore thou
demandest that we should give bread to the men that are weary and
8:16. So he took the ancients of the city, and thorns and briers of the
desert, and tore them with the same, and cut in pieces the men of
8:17. And he demolished the tower of Phanuel, and slew the men of the
8:18. And he said to Zebee and Salmana:  What manner of men were they,
whom you slew in Thabor?  They answered:  They were like thee, and one of
them as the son of a king.
8:19. He answered them:  They were my brethren, the sons of my mother.
As the Lord liveth, if you had saved them, I would not kill you.
8:20. And he said to Jether, his eldest son:  Arise, and slay them.  But
he drew not his sword:  for he was afraid, being but yet a boy.
8:21. And Zebee and Salmana said:  Do thou rise and run upon us:  because
the strength of a man is according to his age:  Gedeon rose up, and slew
Zebee and Salmana:  and he took the ornaments and bosses, with which the
necks of the camels of kings are wont to be adorned.
8:22. And all the men of Israel said to Gedeon:  Rule thou over us, and
thy son, and thy son's son:  because thou hast delivered us from the
hand of Madian.
8:23. And he said to them:  I will not rule over you, neither shall my
son rule over you, but the Lord shall rule over you.
8:24. And he said to them:  I desire one request of you:  Give me the
earlets of your spoils.  For the Ismaelites were accustomed to wear
golden earlets.
8:25. They answered:  We will give them most willingly.  And spreading a
mantle on the ground, they cast upon it the earlets of the spoils.
8:26. And the weight of the earlets that he requested, was a thousand
seven hundred sicles of gold, besides the ornaments, and jewels, and
purple raiment, which the kings of Madian were wont to use, and besides
the golden chains that were about the camels necks.
8:27. And Gedeon made an ephod thereof, and put it in his city Ephra.
And all Israel committed fornication with it, and it became a ruin to
Gedeon, and to all his house.
An ephod. . .A priestly garment which Gedeon made with a good design;
but the Israelites, after his death, abused it by making it an
instrument of their idolatrous worship.
8:28. But Madian was humbled before the children of Israel, neither
could they any more lift up their heads:  but the land rested for forty
years, while Gedeon presided.
8:29. So Jerobaal, the son of Joas, went and dwelt in his own house:
8:30. And he had seventy sons, who came out of his thigh, for he had
8:31. And his concubine, that he had in Sichem, bore him a son, whose
name was Abimelech.
His concubine. . .She was his servant, but not his harlot:  and is called
his concubine, as wives of an inferior degree are commonly called in
the Old Testament, though otherwise lawfully married.
8:32. And Gedeon, the son of Joas died in a good old age, and was
buried in the sepulchre of his father, in Ephra, of the family of Ezri.
8:33. But after Gedeon was dead, the children of Israel turned again,
and committed fornication with Baalim.  And they made a covenant with
Baal, that he should be their god:
8:34. And they remembered not the Lord their God, who delivered them
out of the hands of all their enemies round about:
8:35. Neither did they shew mercy to the house of Jerobaal Gedeon,
according to all the good things he had done to Israel.
Judges Chapter 9
Abimelech killeth his brethren.  Joatham's parable.  Gaal conspireth with
the Sichemites against Abimelech, but is overcome.  Abimelech destroyeth
Sichem:  but is killed at Thebes.
9:1. And Abimelech, the son of Jerobaal, went to Sichem, to his
mother's brethren, and spoke to them, and to all the kindred of his
mother's father, saying:
9:2. Speak to all the men of Sichem:  whether is better for you that
seventy men, all the sons of Jerobaal, should rule over you, or that
one man should rule over you?  And withal, consider that I am your bone,
and your flesh.
9:3. And his mother's brethren spoke of him to all the men of Sichem,
all these words, and they inclined their hearts after Abimelech,
saying:  He is our brother:
9:4. And they gave him seventy weight of silver out of the temple of
Baalberith:  wherewith he hired to himself men that were needy, and
vagabonds, and they followed him.
Baalberith. . .That is, Baal of the covenant, so called from the
covenant they had made with Baal, chap. 8.33.
9:5. And he came to his father's house in Ephra, and slew his brethren,
the sons of Jerobaal, seventy men, upon one stone:  and there remained
only Joatham, the youngest son of Jerobaal, who was hidden.
9:6. And all the men of Sichem were gathered together, and all the
families of the city of Mello:  and they went and made Abimelech king,
by the oak that stood in Sichem.
9:7. This being told to Joatham, he went, and stood on the top of Mount
Garizim:  and lifting up his voice, he cried, and said:  Hear me, ye men
of Sichem, so may God hear you.
9:8. The trees went to anoint a king over them:  and they said to the
olive tree:  Reign thou over us.
9:9. And it answered:  Can I leave my fatness, which both gods and men
make use of, to come to be promoted among the trees?
Both gods and men make use of. . .The olive tree is introduced, speaking
in this manner, because oil was used both in the worship of the true
God, and in that of the false gods, whom the Sichemites served.
9:10. And the trees said to the fig tree:  Come thou and reign over us.
9:11. And it answered them:  Can I leave my sweetness, and my delicious
fruits, and go to be promoted among the other trees?
9:12. And the trees said to the vine:  Come thou and reign over us.
9:13. And it answered them:  Can I forsake my wine, that cheereth God
and men, and be promoted among the other trees?
Cheereth God and men. . .Wine is here represented as agreeable to God,
because he had appointed it to be offered up with his sacrifices.  But
we are not obliged to take these words, spoken by the trees, in
Joatham's parable, according to the strict literal sense:  but only in a
sense accomodated to the design of the parable expressed in the
conclusion of it.
9:14. And all the trees said to the bramble:  Come thou and reign over
9:15. And it answered them:  If, indeed, you mean to make me king, come
ye, and rest under my shadow:  but if you mean it not, let fire come out
from the bramble, and devour the cedars of Libanus.
9:16. Now, therefore, if you have done well, and without sin, in
appointing Abimelech king over you, and have dealt well with Jerobaal,
and with his house, and have made a suitable return for the benefits of
him who fought for you,
9:17. And exposed his life to dangers, to deliver you from the hand of
9:18. And you are now risen up against my father's house, and have
killed his sons, seventy men, upon one stone, and have made Abimelech,
the son of his handmaid, king over the inhabitants of Sichem, because
he is your brother:
9:19. If therefore you have dealt well, and without fault, with
Jerobaal and his house, rejoice ye, this day, in Abimelech, and may he
rejoice in you.
9:20. But if unjustly:  let fire come out from him, and consume the
inhabitants of Sichem, and the town of Mello:  and let fire come out
from the men of Sichem and from the town of Mello, and devour
9:21. And when he had said thus, he fled, and went into Bera:  and dwelt
there for fear of Abimelech, his brother.
9:22. So Abimelech reigned over Israel three years.
9:23. And the Lord sent a very evil spirit between Abimelech and the
inhabitants of Sichem; who began to detest him,
9:24. And to lay the crime of the murder of the seventy sons of
Jerobaal, and the shedding of their blood, upon Abimelech, their
brother, and upon the rest of the princes of the Sichemites, who aided
9:25. And they set an ambush against him on the top of the mountains:
and while they waited for his coming, they committed robberies, taking
spoils of all that passed by:  and it was told Abimelech.
9:26. And Gaal, the son of Obed, came with his brethren, and went over
to Sichem.  And the inhabitants of Sichem, taking courage at his coming,
9:27. Went out into the fields, wasting the vineyards, and treading
down the grapes:  and singing and dancing, they went into the temple of
their god, and in their banquets and cups they cursed Abimelech.
9:28. And Gaal, the son of Obed, cried:  Who is Abimelech, and what is
Sichem, that we should serve him?  Is he not the son of Jerobaal, and
hath made Zebul, his servant, ruler over the men of Emor, the father of
Sichem?  Why then shall we serve him?
9:29. Would to God that some man would put this people under my hand,
that I might remove Abimelech out of the way.  And it was said to
Abimelech:  Gather together the multitude of an army, and come.
9:30. For Zebul, the ruler of the city, hearing the words of Gaal, the
son of Obed, was very angry,
9:31. And sent messengers privately to Abimelech, saying:  Behold, Gaal,
the son of Obed, is come into Sichem with his brethren, and
endeavoureth to set the city against thee.
9:32. Arise, therefore, in the night, with the people that is with
thee, and lie hid in the field:
9:33. And betimes in the morning, at sun rising, set upon the city, and
when he shall come out against thee, with his people, do to him what
thou shalt be able.
9:34. Abimelech, therefore, arose with all his army, by night, and laid
ambushes near Sichem in four places.
9:35. And Gaal, the son of Obed, went out, and stood in the entrance of
the gate of the city.  And Abimelech rose up, and all his army with him,
from the places of the ambushes.
9:36. And when Gaal saw the people, he said to Zebul:  Behold, a
multitude cometh down from the mountains.  And he answered him:  Thou
seest the shadows of the mountains as if they were the heads of men,
and this is thy mistake.
9:37. Again Gaal said:  Behold, there cometh people down from the midst
of the land, and one troop cometh by the way that looketh towards the
9:38. And Zebul said to him:  Where is now thy mouth, wherewith thou
saidst:  Who is Abimelech, that we should serve him?  Is not this the
people which thou didst despise?  Go out, and fight against him.
9:39. So Gaal went out, in the sight of the people of Sichem, and
fought against Abimelech,
9:40. Who chased and put him to flight, and drove him to the city:  and
many were slain of his people, even to the gate of the city:
9:41. And Abimelech sat down in Ruma:  but Zebul drove Gaal, and his
companions, out of the city, and would not suffer them to abide in it.
9:42. So the day following the people went out into the field.  And it
was told to Abimelech,
9:43. And he took his army, and divided it into three companies, and
laid ambushes in the fields.  And seeing that the people came out of the
city, he arose, and set upon them,
9:44. With his own company, assaulting and besieging the city:  whilst
the two other companies chased the enemies that were scattered about
9:45. And Abimelech assaulted the city all that day:  and took it, and
killed the inhabitants thereof, and demolished it, so that he sowed
Sowed salt. . .To make the ground barren, and fit for nothing.
9:46. And when they who dwelt in the tower of Sichem, had heard this,
they went into the temple of their god Berith, where they had made a
covenant with him, and from thence the place had taken its name, and it
was exceeding strong.
9:47. Abimelech also hearing that the men of the tower of Sichem were
gathered together,
9:48. Went up into mount Selmon, he and all his people with him:  and
taking an axe, he cut down the bough of a tree, and laying it on his
shoulder, and carrying it, he said to his companions:  What you see me
do, do ye out of hand.
9:49. So they cut down boughs from the trees, every man as fast as he
could, and followed their leader.  And surrounding the fort, they set it
on fire:  and so it came to pass, that with the smoke and with the fire
a thousand persons were killed, men and women together, of the
inhabitants of the town of Sichem.
9:50. Then Abimelech, departing from thence, came to the town of
Thebes, which he surrounded and besieged with his army.
9:51. And there was in the midst of the city a high tower, to which
both the men and the women were fled together, and all the princes of
the city, and having shut and strongly barred the gate, they stood upon
the battlements of the tower to defend themselves.
9:52. And Abimelech, coming near the tower, fought stoutly:  and,
approaching to the gate, endeavoured to set fire to it:
9:53. And behold, a certain woman casting a piece of a millstone from
above, dashed it against the head of Abimelech, and broke his skull.
9:54. And he called hastily to his armourbearer, and said to him:  Draw
thy sword, and kill me:  lest it should be said that I was slain by a
woman.  He did as he was commanded, and slew him.
9:55. And when he was dead all the men of Israel that were with him,
returned to their homes.
9:56. And God repaid the evil that Abimelech had done against his
father, killing his seventy brethren.
9:57. The Sichemites also were rewarded for what they had done, and the
curse of Joatham, the son of Jerobaal, came upon them.
Judges Chapter 10
Thola ruleth Israel twenty-three years; and Jair twenty-two.  The people
fall again into idolatry, and are afflicted again by the Philistines
and Ammonites.  They cry to God for help, who upon their repentance hath
compassion on them.
10:1. After Abimelech, there arose a ruler in Israel, Thola, son of
Phua, the uncle of Abimelech, a man of Issachar, who dwelt in Samir of
mount Ephraim:
Uncle of Abimelech. . .i.  e., half brother to Gedeon, as being born of
the same mother, but by a different father, and of a different tribe.
10:2. And he judged Israel three and twenty years, and he died, and was
buried in Samir.
10:3. To him succeeded Jair, the Galaadite, who judged Israel for two
and twenty years,
10:4. Having thirty sons, that rode on thirty ass colts, and were
princes of thirty cities, which from his name were called Havoth Jair,
that is, the towns of Jair, until this present day, in the land of
Havoth Jair. . .This name was now confirmed to these towns, which they
had formerly received from another Jair.  Num. 32.41.
10:5. And Jair died, and was buried in the place which is called Camon.
10:6. But the children of Israel, adding new sins to their old ones,
did evil in the sight of the Lord, and served idols, Baalim and
Astaroth, and the gods of Syria, and of Sidon, and of Moab, and of the
children of Ammon, and of the Philistines:  and they left the Lord, and
did not serve him.
10:7. And the Lord being angry with them, delivered them into the hands
of the Philistines, and of the children of Ammon.
10:8. And they were afflicted, and grievously oppressed for eighteen
years, all they that dwelt beyond the Jordan in the land of the
Amorrhite, who is in Galaad:
10:9. Insomuch that the children of Ammon, passing over the Jordan,
wasted Juda, and Benjamin, and Ephraim:  and Israel was distressed
exceedingly.
10:10. And they cried to the Lord, and said, We have sinned against
thee, because we have forsaken the Lord our God, and have served
10:11. And the Lord said to them:  Did not the Egyptians, and the
Amorrhites, and the children of Ammon, and the Philistines,
10:12. The Sidonians also, and Amalec, and Chanaan, oppress you, and
you cried to me, and I delivered you out of their hand?
10:13. And yet you have forsaken me, and have worshipped strange gods:
therefore I will deliver you no more:
10:14. Go, and call upon the gods which you have chosen:  let them
deliver you in the time of distress.
10:15. And the children of Israel said to the Lord:  We have sinned, do
thou unto us whatsoever pleaseth thee:  only deliver us this time.
10:16. And saying these things, they cast away out of their coasts all
the idols of strange gods, and served the Lord their God:  and he was
touched with their miseries.
10:17. And the children of Ammon shouting together, pitched their tents
in Galaad:  against whom the children of Israel assembled themselves
together, and camped in Maspha.
10:18. And the princes of Galaad said one to another:  Whosoever of us
shall first begin to fight against the children of Ammon, he shall be
the leader of the people of Galaad.
Judges Chapter 11
Jephte is made ruler of the people of Galaad:  he first pleads their
cause against the Ammonites; then making a vow obtains a signal
victory; he performs his vow.
11:1. There was at that time Jephte, the Galaadite, a most valiant man,
and a warrior, the son of a woman that was a harlot, and his father was
11:2. Now Galaad had a wife of whom he had sons:  who, after they were
grown up, thrust out Jephte, saying:  Thou canst not inherit in the
house of our father, because thou art born of another mother.
11:3. Then he fled and avoided them, and dwelt in the land of Tob:  and
there were gathered to him needy men and robbers, and they followed him
as their prince.
11:4. In those days the children of Ammon made war against Israel.
11:5. And as they pressed hard upon them, the ancients of Galaad went
to fetch Jephte out of the land of Tob to help them:
11:6. And they said to him:  Come thou, and be our prince, and fight
against the children of Ammon.
11:7. And he answered them:  Are not you the men that hated me, and cast
me out of my father's house, and now you are come to me, constrained by
11:8. And the princes of Galaad said to Jephte:  For this cause we are
now come to thee, that thou mayst go with us, and fight against the
children of Ammon, and be head over all the inhabitants of Galaad.
11:9. Jephte also said to them:  If you be come to me sincerely, that I
should fight for you against the children of Ammon, and the Lord shall
deliver them into my hand, shall I be your prince?
11:10. They answered him:  The Lord, who heareth these things, he
himself is mediator and witness that we will do as we have promised.
11:11. Jephte therefore went with the princes of Galaad, and all the
people made him their prince.  And Jephte spoke all his words before the
Lord in Maspha.
11:12. And he sent messengers to the king of the children of Ammon, to
say in his name:  What hast thou to do with me, that thou art come
against me, to waste my land?
11:13. And he answered them:  Because Israel took away my land, when he
came up out of Egypt, from the confines of the Arnon unto the Jaboc and
the Jordan:  now, therefore, restore the same peaceably to me.
11:14. And Jephte again sent word by them, and commanded them to say to
the king of Ammon:
11:15. Thus saith Jephte:  Israel did not take away the land of Moab,
nor the land of the children of Ammon:
11:16. But when they came up out of Egypt, he walked through the desert
to the Red Sea, and came into Cades.
11:17. And he sent messengers to the king of Edom, saying:  Suffer me to
pass through thy land.  But he would not condescend to his request.  He
sent also to the king of Moab, who, likewise, refused to give him
passage.  He abode, therefore, in Cades,
11:18. And went round the land of Edom at the side, and the land of
Moab:  and came over against the east coast of the land of Moab, and
camped on the other side of the Arnon:  and he would not enter the
bounds of Moab.
11:19. So Israel sent messengers to Sehon, king of the Amorrhites, who
dwelt in Hesebon, and they said to him:  Suffer me to pass through thy
land to the river.
11:20. But he, also despising the words of Israel, suffered him not to
pass through his borders:  but gathering an infinite multitude, went out
against him to Jasa, and made strong opposition.
11:21. And the Lord delivered him, with all his army, into the hands of
Israel, and he slew him, and possessed all the land of the Amorrhite,
the inhabitant of that country,
11:22. And all the coasts thereof from the Arnon to the Jaboc, and from
the wilderness to the Jordan.
11:23. So the Lord, the God of Israel, destroyed the Amorrhite, his
people of Israel fighting against him, and wilt thou now possess his
11:24. Are not those things which thy god Chamos possesseth, due to
thee by right?  But what the Lord our God hath obtained by conquest,
shall be our possession:
Chamos. . .The idol of the Moabites and Ammonites.  He argues from their
opinion, who thought they had a just title to the countries which they
imagined they had conquered by the help of their gods:  how much more
then had Israel in indisputable title to the countries which God, by
visible miracles, had conquered for them.
11:25. Unless, perhaps, thou art better than Balac, the son of Sephor,
king of Moab:  or canst shew that he strove against Israel, and fought
against him,
11:26. Whereas he hath dwelt in Hesebon, and the villages thereof, and
in Aroer, and its villages, and in all the cities near the Jordan, for
three hundred years.  Why have you for so long a time attempted nothing
about this claim?
11:27. Therefore I do not trespass against thee, but thou wrongest me
by declaring an unjust war against me.  The Lord be judge, and decide
this day, between Israel and the children of Ammon.
11:28. And the king of the children of Ammon would not hearken to the
words of Jephte, which he sent him by the messengers.
11:29. Therefore the spirit of the Lord came upon Jephte, and going
round Galaad, and Manasses, and Maspha of Galaad, and passing over from
thence to the children of Ammon,
11:30. He made a vow to the Lord, saying:  If thou wilt deliver the
children of Ammon into my hands,
11:31. Whosoever shall first come forth out of the doors of my house,
and shall meet me, when I return in peace from the children of Ammon,
the same will I offer a holocaust to the Lord.
Whosoever, etc. . .Some are of opinion, that the meaning of this vow of
Jephte, was to consecrate to God whatsoever should first meet him,
according to the condition of the thing; so as to offer it up as a
holocaust, if it were such a thing as might be offered by the law; or
to devote it otherwise to God, if it were not such as the law allowed
to be offered in sacrifice.  And therefore they think the daughter of
Jephte was not slain by her father, but only consecrated to perpetual
virginity.  But the common opinion followed by the generality of the
holy fathers and divines is, that she was offered as a holocaust, in
consequence of her father's vow:  and that Jephte did not sin, at least
not mortally, neither in making, nor in keeping, his vow:  since he is
no ways blamed for it in scripture; and was even inspired by God
himself to make the vow (as appears from ver. 29, 30) in consequence of
which he obtained the victory; and therefore he reasonably concluded
that God, who is the master of life and death, was pleased on this
occasion to dispense with his own law; and that it was the divine will
he should fulfil his vow.
11:32. And Jephte passed over to the children of Ammon to fight against
them:  and the Lord delivered them into his hands.
11:33. And he smote them from Aroer till you come to Mennith, twenty
cities, and as far as Abel, which is set with vineyards, with a very
great slaughter:  and the children of Ammon were humbled by the children
11:34. And when Jephte returned into Maspha, to his house, his only
daughter met him with timbrels and with dances:  for he had no other
11:35. And when he saw her, he rent his garments, and said:  Alas! my
daughter, thou hast deceived me, and thou thyself art deceived:  for I
have opened my mouth to the Lord, and I can do no other thing.
11:36. And she answered him:  My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth
to the Lord, do unto me whatsoever thou hast promised, since the
victory hath been granted to thee, and revenge of thy enemies.
11:37. And she said to her father:  Grant me only this, which I desire:
Let me go, that I may go about the mountains for two months, and may
bewail my virginity with my companions.
Bewail my virginity. . .The bearing of children was much coveted under
the Old Testament, when women might hope that from some child of
theirs, the Saviour of the world might one day spring.  But under the
New Testament virginity is preferred.  1 Cor. 7.35.
11:38. And he answered her:  Go.  And he sent her away for two months.
And when she was gone with her comrades and companions, she mourned her
virginity in the mountains.
11:39. And the two months being expired, she returned to her father,
and he did to her as he had vowed, and she knew no man.  From thence
came a fashion in Israel, and a custom has been kept:
11:40. That, from year to year, the daughters of Israel assemble
together, and lament the daughter of Jephte the Galaadite, for four
Judges Chapter 12
The Ephraimites quarrel with Jephte:  forty-two thousand of them are
slain:  Abeson, Ahialon, and Abdon, are judges.
12:1. But behold there arose a sedition in Ephraim.  And passing towards
the north, they said to Jephte:  When thou wentest to fight against the
children of Ammon, why wouldst thou not call us, that we might go with
thee?  Therefore we will burn thy house.
12:2. And he answered them:  I and my people were at great strife with
the children of Ammon:  and I called you to assist me, and you would not
12:3. And when I saw this, I put my life in my own hands, and passed
over against the children of Ammon and the Lord delivered them into my
hands.  What have I deserved, that you should rise up to fight against
12:4. Then calling to him all the men of Galaad, he fought against
Ephraim:  and the men of Galaad defeated Ephraim, because he had said:
Galaad is a fugitive of Ephraim, and dwelleth in the midst of Ephraim
and Manasses.
12:5. And the Galaadites secured the fords of the Jordan, by which
Ephraim was to return.  And when any one of the number of Ephraim came
thither in the flight, and said:  I beseech you let me pass:  the
Galaadites said to him:  Art thou not an Ephraimite?  If he said:  I am
12:6. They asked him:  Say then, Scibboleth, which is interpreted, An
ear of corn.  But he answered, Sibboleth, not being able to express an
ear of corn by the same letter.  Then presently they took him and killed
him in the very passage of the Jordan.  And there fell at that time of
Ephraim, two and forty thousand.
12:7. And Jephte, the Galaadite, judged Israel six years:  and he died,
and was buried in his city of Galaad.
12:8. After him Abesan of Bethlehem judged Israel:
12:9. He had thirty sons, and as many daughters, whom he sent abroad,
and gave to husbands, and took wives for his sons, of the same number,
bringing them into his house.  And he judged Israel seven years:
12:10. And he died, and was buried in Bethlehem.
12:11. To him succeeded Ahialon, a Zabulonite:  and he judged Israel ten
12:12. And he died, and was buried in Zabulon.
12:13. After him, Abdon, the son of Illel, a Pharathonite, judged
12:14. And he had forty sons, and of them thirty grandsons, mounted
upon seventy ass colts, and he judged Israel eight years:
12:15. And he died, and was buried in Pharathon, in the land of
Ephraim, in the mount of Amalech.
Judges Chapter 13
The people fall again into idolatry and are afflicted by the
Philistines.  An angel foretelleth the birth of Samson.
13:1. And the children of Israel did evil again in the sight of the
Lord:  and he delivered them into the hands of the Philistines forty
13:2. Now there was a certain man of Saraa, and of the race of Dan,
whose name was Manue, and his wife was barren.
13:3. And an angel of the Lord appeared to her, and said:  Thou art
barren and without children:  but thou shalt conceive and bear a son.
13:4. Now therefore beware, and drink no wine nor strong drink, and eat
not any unclean thing.
13:6. Because thou shalt conceive, and bear a son, and no razor shall
touch his head:  for he shall be a Nazarite of God, from his infancy,
and from his mother's womb, and he shall begin to deliver Israel from
the hands of the Philistines.
13:6. And when she was come to her husband, she said to him:  A man of
God came to me, having the countenance of an angel, very awful.  And
when I asked him whence he came, and by what name he was called, he
would not tell me:
13:7. But he answered thus:  Behold thou shalt conceive and bear a son:
beware thou drink no wine, nor strong drink, nor eat any unclean thing:
for the child shall be a Nazarite of God from his infancy, from his
mother's womb until the day of his death.
13:8. Then Manue prayed to the Lord, and said:  I beseech thee, O Lord,
that the man of God, whom thou didst send, may come again, and teach us
what we ought to do concerning the child, that shall be born.
13:9. And the Lord heard the prayer of Manue, and the angel of the Lord
appeared again to his wife, as she was sitting in the field.  But Manue
her husband was not with her.  And when she saw the angel,
13:10. She made haste, and ran to her husband:  and told him, saying:
Behold the man hath appeared to me, whom I saw before.
13:11. He rose up, and followed his wife:  and coming to the man, said
to him:  Art thou he that spoke to the woman?  And he answered:  I am.
13:12. And Manue said to him:  When thy word shall come to pass, what
wilt thou that the child should do?  or from what shall he keep himself?
13:13. And the angel of the Lord said to Manue:  From all the things I
have spoken of to thy wife, let her refrain herself:
Let her refrain, etc. . .By the Latin text it is not clear whether this
abstinence was prescribed to the mother, or to the child; but the
Hebrew (in which the verbs relating thereto are of the feminine gender)
determineth it to the mother.  But then the child also was to refrain
from the like things, because he was to be from his infancy a Nazarite
of God, ver. 5, that is, one set aside, in a particular manner, and
consecrated to God:  now the Nazarites by the law were to abstain from
all these things.
13:14. And let her eat nothing that cometh of the vine, neither let her
drink wine or strong drink, nor eat any unclean thing:  and whatsoever I
have commanded her, let her fulfil and observe.
13:15. And Manue said to the angel of the Lord:  I beseech thee to
consent to my request, and let us dress a kid for thee.
13:16. And the angel answered him:  If thou press me I will not eat of
thy bread:  but if thou wilt offer a holocaust, offer it to the Lord.
And Manue knew not it was the angel of the Lord.
13:17. And he said to him:  What is thy name, that, if thy word shall
come to pass, we may honour thee?
13:18. And he answered him:  Why askest thou my name, which is
13:19. Then Manue took a kid of the flocks, and the libations, and put
them upon a rock, offering to the Lord, who doth wonderful things:  and
he and his wife looked on.
13:20. And when the flame from the altar went up towards heaven, the
angel of the Lord ascended also in the same.  And when Manue and his
wife saw this, they fell flat on the ground;
13:21. And the angel of the Lord appeared to them no more.  And
forthwith Manue understood that it was an angel of the Lord,
13:22. And he said to his wife:  We shall certainly die, because we have
Seen God. . .Not in his own person, but in the person of his messenger.
The Israelites, in those days, imagined they should die if they saw an
angel, taking occasion perhaps from those words spoken by the Lord to
Moses, Ex. 33.20, No man shall see me and live.  But the event
demonstrated that it was but a groundless imagination.
13:23. And his wife answered him:  If the Lord had a mind to kill us, he
would not have received a holocaust and libations at our hands; neither
would he have shewed us all these things, nor have told us the things
that are to come.
13:24. And she bore a son, and called his name Samson.  And the child
grew, and the Lord blessed him.
13:25. And the Spirit of the Lord began to be with him in the camp of
Dan, between Saraa and Esthaol.
Judges Chapter 14
Samson desireth a wife of the Philistines.  He killeth a lion:  in whose
mouth he afterwards findeth honey.  His marriage feast, and riddle,
which is discovered by his wife.  He killeth, and strippeth thirty
Philistines.  His wife taketh another man.
14:1. Then Samson went down to Thamnatha, and seeing there a woman of
the daughters of the Philistines,
14:2. He came up, and told his father and his mother, saying:  I saw a
woman in Thamnatha of the daughters of the Philistines:  I beseech you,
take her for me to wife.
14:3. And his father and mother said to him:  Is there no woman among
the daughters of thy brethren, or among all my people, that thou wilt
take a wife of the Philistines, who are uncircumcised?  And Samson said
to his father:  Take this woman for me; for she hath pleased my eyes.
Is there no woman among the daughters of thy brethren. . .This shews his
parents were at first against his marriage with a Gentile, it being
prohibited, Deut. 7.3; but afterwards they consented, knowing it to be
by the dispensation of God; which otherwise would have been sinful in
acting contrary to the law.
14:4. Now his parents knew not that the thing was done by the Lord, and
that he sought an occasion against the Philistines:  for at that time
the Philistines had dominion over Israel.
14:5. Then Samson went down with his father and mother to Thamnatha.
And when they were come to the vineyards of the town, behold a young
lion met him, raging and roaring.
14:6. And the Spirit of the Lord came upon Samson, and he tore the lion
as he would have torn a kid in pieces, having nothing at all in his
hand:  and he would not tell this to his father and mother.
14:7. And he went down, and spoke to the woman that had pleased his
14:8. And after some days, returning to take her, he went aside to see
the carcass of the lion, and behold there was a swarm of bees in the
mouth of the lion, and a honey-comb.
14:9. And when he had taken it in his hands, he went on eating:  and
coming to his father and mother, he gave them of it, and they ate:  but
he would not tell them that he had taken the honey from the body of the
14:10. So his father went down to the woman, and made a feast for his
son Samson:  for so the young men used to do.
14:11. And when the citizens of that place saw him, they brought him
thirty companions to be with him.
14:12. And Samson said to them:  I will propose to you a riddle, which
if you declare unto me within the seven days of the feast, I will give
you thirty shirts, and as many coats:
14:13. But if you shall not be able to declare it, you shall give me
thirty shirts and the same number of coats.  They answered him:  Put
forth the riddle, that we may hear it.
14:14. And he said to them:  Out of the eater came forth meat, and out
of the strong came forth sweetness.  And they could not for three days
expound the riddle.
14:15. And when the seventh day came, they said to the wife of Samson:
Sooth thy husband, and persuade him to tell thee what the riddle
meaneth.  But if thou wilt not do it, we will burn thee, and thy
father's house.  Have you called us to the wedding on purpose to strip
14:16. So she wept before Samson and complained, saying:  Thou hatest
me, and dost not love me:  therefore thou wilt not expound to me the
riddle, which thou hast proposed to the sons of my people.  But he
answered:  I would not tell it to my father and mother:  and how can I
tell it to thee?
14:17. So she wept before him the seven days of the feast:  and, at
length, on the seventh day, as she was troublesome to him, he expounded
it.  And she immediately told her countrymen.
14:18. And they, on the seventh day before the sun went down, said to
him:  What is sweeter than honey?  and what is stronger than a lion?  And
he said to them:  If you had not ploughed with my heifer, you had not
found out my riddle.
14:19. And the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, and he went down to
Ascalon, and slew there thirty men whose garments he took away, and
gave to them that had declared the riddle.  And being exceeding angry,
he went up to his father's house:
14:20. But his wife took one of his friends and bridal companions for
her husband.
Judges Chapter 15
Samson is denied his wife.  He burns the corn of the Philistines, and
kills many of them.
15:1. And a while after, when the days of the wheat harvest were at
hand, Samson came, meaning to visit his wife, and he brought her a kid
of the flock.  And when he would have gone into her chamber, as usual,
her father would not suffer him, saying:
15:2. I thought thou hadst hated her, and therefore I gave her to thy
friend:  but she hath a sister, who is younger and fairer than she, take
her to wife instead of her.
15:3. And Samson answered him:  From this day I shall be blameless in
what I do against the Philistines:  for I will do you evils.
15:4. And he went and caught three hundred foxes, and coupled them tail
to tail, and fastened torches between the tails:
Foxes. . .Being judge of the people he might have many to assist him to
catch with nets or otherwise a number of these animals; of which there
were great numbers in that country.
15:6. And setting them on fire he let the foxes go, that they might run
about hither and thither.  And they presently went into the standing
corn of the Philistines.  Which being set on fire, both the corn that
was already carried together, and that which was yet standing, was all
burnt, insomuch that the flame consumed also the vineyards and the
15:6. Then the Philistines said:  Who hath done this thing?  And it was
answered:  Samson, the son in law of the Thamnathite, because he took
away his wife, and gave her to another, hath done these things.  And the
Philistines went up and burnt both the woman and her father.
15:7. But Samson said to them:  Although you have done this, yet will I
be revenged of you, and then I will be quiet.
15:8. And he made a great slaughter of them, so that in astonishment
they laid the calf of the leg upon the thigh.  And going down he dwelt
in a cavern of the rock Etam.
15:9. Then the Philistines going up into the land of Juda, camped in
the place which afterwards was called Lechi, that is, the Jawbone,
where their army was spread abroad.
15:10. And the men of the tribe of Juda said to them:  Why are you come
up against us?  They answered:  We are come to bind Samson, and to pay
him for what he hath done against us.
15:11. Wherefore three thousand men of Juda went down to the cave of
the rock Etam, and said to Samson:  Knowest thou not that the
Philistines rule over us?  Why wouldst thou do thus?  And he said to
them:  As they did to me, so have I done to them.
15:12. And they said to him:  We are come to bind thee, and to deliver
thee into the hands of the Philistines.  And Samson said to them:  Swear
to me, and promise me that you will not kill me.
15:13. They said:  We will not kill thee:  but we will deliver thee up
bound.  And they bound him with two new cords, and brought him from the
15:14. Now when he was come to the place of the Jawbone, and the
Philistines shouting went to meet him, the Spirit of the Lord came
strongly upon him:  and as flax is wont to be consumed at the approach
of fire, so the bands with which he was bound were broken and loosed.
15:15. And finding a jawbone, even the jawbone of an ass, which lay
there, catching it up, he slew therewith a thousand men.
15:16. And he said:  With the jawbone of an ass, with the jaw of the
colt of asses, I have destroyed them, and have slain a thousand men.
15:17. And when he had ended these words, singing, he threw the jawbone
out of his hand, and called the name of that place Ramathlechi, which
is interpreted the lifting up of the jawbone.
15:18. And being very thirsty, he cried to the Lord, and said:  Thou
hast given this very great deliverance and victory into the hand of thy
servant:  and behold I die for thirst, and shall fall into the hands of
the uncircumcised.
15:19. Then the Lord opened a great tooth in the jaw of the ass and
waters issued out of it.  And when he had drunk them, he refreshed his
spirit, and recovered his strength.  Therefore the name of that place
was called The Spring of him that invoked from the jawbone, until this
present day.
15:20. And he judged Israel, in the days of the Philistines, twenty
Judges Chapter 16
Samson is deluded by Dalila:  and falls into the hands of the
Philistines.  His death.
16:1. He went also into Gaza, and saw there a woman, a harlot, and went
in unto her.
16:2. And when the Philistines had heard this, and it was noised about
among them, that Samson was come into the city, they surrounded him,
setting guards at the gate of the city, and watching there all the
night in silence, that in the morning they might kill him as he went
16:3. But Samson slept till midnight, and then rising, he took both the
doors of the gate, with the posts thereof and the bolt, and laying them
on his shoulders, carried them up to the top of the hill, which looketh
towards Hebron.
16:4. After this he loved a woman, who dwelt in the valley of Sorec,
and she was called Dalila.
Dalila. . .Some are of opinion she was married to Samson; others that
she was his harlot.  If the latter opinion be true, we cannot wonder
that, in punishment of his lust, the Lord delivered him up, by her
means, into the hands of his enemies.  However if he was guilty, it is
not to be doubted but that under his afflictions he heartily repented
and returned to God, and so obtained forgiveness of his sins.
16:5. And the princes of the Philistines came to her, and said:  Deceive
him, and learn of him wherein his great strength lieth, and how we may
be able to overcome him, to bind and afflict him:  which if thou shalt
do, we will give thee every one of us eleven hundred pieces of silver.
16:6. And Dalila said to Samson:  Tell me, I beseech thee, wherein thy
greatest strength lieth, and what it is, wherewith if thou wert bound,
thou couldst not break loose.
16:7. And Samson answered her:  If I shall be bound with seven cords,
made of sinews not yet dry, but still moist, I shall be weak like other
16:8. And the princes of the Philistines brought unto her seven cords,
such as he spoke of, with which she bound him;
16:9. Men lying privately in wait with her, and in the chamber,
expecting the event of the thing, and she cried out to him:  The
Philistines are upon thee, Samson.  And he broke the bands, as a man
would break a thread of tow twined with spittle, when it smelleth the
fire:  so it was not known wherein his strength lay.
16:10. And Dalila said to him:  Behold thou hast mocked me, and hast
told me a false thing:  but now at least tell me wherewith thou mayest
16:11. And he answered her:  If I shall be bound with new ropes, that
were never in work, I shall be weak and like other men.
16:12. Dalila bound him again with these, and cried out:  The
Philistines are upon thee, Samson, there being an ambush prepared for
him in the chamber.  But he broke the bands like threads of webs.
16:13. And Dalila said to him again:  How long dost thou deceive me, and
tell me lies?  Shew me wherewith thou mayest be bound.  And Samson
answered her:  If thou plattest the seven locks of my head with a lace,
and tying them round about a nail, fastenest it in the ground, I shall
16:14. And when Dalila had done this, she said to him:  The Philistines
are upon thee, Samson.  And awaking out of his sleep, he drew out the
nail with the hairs and the lace.
16:15. And Dalila said to him:  How dost thou say thou lovest me, when
thy mind is not with me?  Thou hast told me lies these three times, and
wouldst not tell me wherein thy greatest strength lieth.
16:16. And when she pressed him much, and continually hung upon him for
many days, giving him no time to rest, his soul fainted away, and was
wearied even unto death.
16:17. Then opening the truth of the thing, he said to her:  The razor
hath never come upon my head, for I am a Nazarite, that is to say,
consecrated to God from my mother's womb:  If my head be shaven, my
strength shall depart from me, and I shall become weak, and shall be
like other men.
16:18. Then seeing that he had discovered to her all his mind, she sent
to the princes of the Philistines, saying:  Come up this once more, for
now he hath opened his heart to me.  And they went up, taking with them
the money which they had promised.
16:19. But she made him sleep upon her knees, and lay his head in her
bosom.  And she called a barber and shaved his seven locks, and began to
drive him away, and thrust him from her:  for immediately his strength
departed from him.
16:20. And she said:  The Philistines are upon thee, Samson.  And awaking
from sleep, he said in his mind:  I will go out as I did before, and
shake myself, not knowing that the Lord was departed from him.
16:21. Then the Philistines seized upon him, and forthwith pulled out
his eyes, and led him bound in chains to Gaza, and shutting him up in
prison made him grind.
16:22. And now his hair began to grow again,
16:23. And the princes of the Philistines assembled together, to offer
great sacrifices to Dagon their god, and to make merry, saying:  Our god
hath delivered our enemy Samson into our hands.
16:24. And the people also seeing this, praised their god, and said the
same:  Our god hath delivered our adversary into our hands, him that
destroyed our country, and killed very many.
16:25. And rejoicing in their feasts, when they had now taken their
good cheer, they commanded that Samson should be called, and should
play before them.  And being brought out of prison, he played before
them; and they made him stand between two pillars.
16:26. And he said to the lad that guided his steps:  Suffer me to touch
the pillars which support the whole house, and let me lean upon them,
and rest a little.
16:27. Now the house was full of men and women, and all the princes of
the Philistines were there.  Moreover about three thousand persons of
both sexes, from the roof and the higher part of the house, were
beholding Samson's play.
16:28. But he called upon the Lord, saying:  O Lord God remember me, and
restore to me now my former strength, O my God, that I may revenge
myself on my enemies, and for the loss of my two eyes I may take one
Revenge myself. . .This desire of revenge was out of zeal for justice
against the enemies of God and his people; and not out of private
rancour and malice of heart.
16:29. And laying hold on both the pillars on which the house rested,
and holding the one with his right hand, and the other with his left,
16:30. He said:  Let me die with the Philistines.  And when he had
strongly shook the pillars, the house fell upon all the princes, and
the rest of the multitude, that was there:  and he killed many more at
his death, than he had killed before in his life.
Let me die. . .Literally, let my soul die.  Samson did not sin on this
occasion, though he was indirectly the cause of his own death.  Because
he was moved to what he did, by a particular inspiration of God, who
also concurred with him by a miracle, in restoring his strength upon
the spot, in consequence of his prayer.  Samson, by dying in this
manner, was a figure of Christ, who by his death overcame all his
16:31. And his brethren and all his kindred, going down took his body,
and buried it between Saraa and Esthaol, in the buryingplace of his
father Manue:  and he judged Israel twenty years.
Judges Chapter 17
The history of the idol of Michas, and the young Levite.
17:1. There was at that time a man of mount Ephraim, whose name was
17:2. Who said to his mother:  The eleven hundred pieces of silver,
which thou hadst put aside for thyself, and concerning which thou didst
swear in my hearing, behold I have, and they are with me.  And she said
to him.  Blessed be my son by the Lord.
17:3. So he restored them to his mother, who said to him:  I have
consecrated and vowed this silver to the Lord, that my son may receive
it at my hand, and make a graven and a molten god; so now I deliver it
17:4. And he restored them to his mother:  and she took two hundred
pieces of silver and gave them to the silversmith, to make of them a
graven and a molten God, which was in the house of Michas.
17:5. And he separated also therein a little temple for the god, and
made an ephod, and theraphim, that is to say, a priestly garment, and
idols:  and he filled the hand of one of his sons, and he became his
Filled the hand. . .That is, appointed and consecrated him to the
priestly office.
17:6. In those days there was no king in Israel, but every one did that
which seemed right to himself.
17:7. There was also another young man of Bethlehem Juda, of the
kindred thereof:  and he was a Levite, and dwelt there.
17:8. Now he went out from the city of Bethlehem, and desired to
sojourn wheresoever he should find it convenient for him.  And when he
was come to mount Ephraim, as he was on his journey, and had turned
aside a little into the house of Michas,
17:9. He was asked by him whence he came.  And he answered:  I am a
Levite of Bethlehem Juda, and I am going to dwell where I can, and
where I shall find a place to my advantage.
17:10. And Michas said:  Stay with me, and be unto me a father and a
priest, and I will give thee every year ten pieces of silver, and a
double suit of apparel, and thy victuals.
17:11. He was content, and abode with the man, and was unto him as one
of his sons.
17:12. And Michas filled his hand, and had the young man with him for
his priest, saying:
17:13. Now I know God will do me good, since I have a priest of the
race of the Levites.
Judges Chapter 18
The expedition of the men of Dan against Lais:  in their way they rob
Michas of his priest and his gods.
18:1. In those days there was no king in Israel, and the tribe of Dan
sought them an inheritance to dwell in:  for unto that day they had not
received their lot among the other tribes.
Not received, etc. . .They had their portions assigned them, Jos. 19.40.
But, through their own sloth, possessed as yet but a small part of it.
See Judges 1.34.
18:2. So the children of Dan sent five most valiant men, of their stock
and family, from Saraa and Esthaol, to spy out the land, and to view it
diligently:  and they said to them:  Go, and view the land.  They went on
their way, and when they came to mount Ephraim, they went into the
house of Michas, and rested there:
18:3. And knowing the voice of the young man the Levite, and lodging
with him, they said to him:  Who brought thee hither?  what dost thou
here?  why wouldst thou come hither?
18:4. He answered them:  Michas hath done such and such things for me,
and hath hired me to be his priest.
18:5. Then they desired him to consult the Lord, that they might know
whether their journey should be prosperous, and the thing should have
18:6. He answered them:  Go in peace:  the Lord looketh on your way, and
the journey that you go.
18:7. So the five men going on came to Lais:  and they saw how the
people dwelt therein without any fear, according to the custom of the
Sidonians, secure and easy, having no man at all to oppose them, being
very rich, and living separated, at a distance from Sidon and from all
18:8. And they returned to their brethren in Saraa and Esthaol, who
asked them what they had done:  to whom they answered:
18:9. Arise, and let us go up to them:  for we have seen the land which
is exceeding rich and fruitful:  neglect not, lose no time:  let us go
and possess it, there will be no difficulty.
18:10. We shall come to a people that is secure, into a spacious
country, and the Lord will deliver the place to us, in which there is
no want of any thing that groweth on the earth.
18:11. There went therefore of the kindred of Dan, to wit, from Saraa
and Esthaol, six hundred men, furnished with arms for war.
18:12. And going up they lodged in Cariathiarim of Juda:  which place
from that time is called the camp of Dan, and is behind Cariathiarim.
18:13. From thence they passed into mount Ephraim.  And when they were
come to the house of Michas,
18:14. The five men, that before had been sent to view the land of
Lais, said to the rest of their brethren:  You know that in these houses
there is an ephod and theraphim, and a graven and a molten god:  see
what you are pleased to do.
18:15. And when they had turned a little aside, they went into the
house of the young man the Levite, who was in the house of Michas:  and
they saluted him with words of peace.
18:16. And the six hundred men stood before the door, appointed with
18:17. But they that were gone into the house of the young man, went
about to take away the graven god, and the ephod, and the theraphim,
and the molten god, and the priest stood before the door, the six
hundred valiant men waiting not far off.
18:18. So they that were gone in took away the graven thing, the ephod,
and the idols, and the molten god, And the priest said to them:  What
are you doing?
18:19. And they said to him:  Hold thy peace, and put thy finger on thy
mouth, and come with us, that we may have thee for a father, and a
priest.  Whether is better for thee, to be a priest in the house of one
man, or in a tribe and family in Israel?
18:20. When he heard this, he agreed to their words, and took the
ephod, and the idols, and the graven god, and departed with them.
18:21. And when they were going forward, and had put before them the
children and the cattle, and all that was valuable,
18:22. And were now at a distance from the house of Michas, the men
that dwelt in the houses of Michas gathering together followed them,
18:23. And began to shout out after them.  They looked back, and said to
Michas:  What aileth thee?  Why dost thou cry?
18:24. And he answered:  You have taken away my gods which I have made
me, and the priest, and all that I have, and do you say:  What aileth
18:25. And the children of Dan said to him:  See thou say no more to us,
lest men enraged come upon thee, and thou perish with all thy house.
18:26. And so they went on the journey they had begun.  But Michas
seeing that they were stronger than he, returned to his house.
18:27. And the six hundred men took the priest, and the things we spoke
of before, and came to Lais, to a people that was quiet and secure, and
smote them with the edge of the sword:  and the city they burnt with
18:28. There being no man at all who brought them any succour, because
they dwelt far from Sidon, and had no society or business with any man.
And the city was in the land of Rohob:  and they rebuilt it, and dwelt
18:29. Calling the name of the city Dan, after the name of their
father, who was the son of Israel, which before was called Lais.
18:30. And they set up to themselves the graven idol, and Jonathan the
son of Gersam, the son of Moses, he and his sons were priests in the
tribe of Dan, until the day of their captivity.
18:31. And the idol of Michas remained with them all the time that the
house of God was in Silo.  In those days there was no king in Israel.
Judges Chapter 19
A Levite bringing home his wife, is lodged by an old man at Gabaa in
the tribe of Benjamin.  His wife is there abused by wicked men, and in
the morning found dead.  Her husband cutteth her body in pieces, and
sendeth to every tribe of Israel, requiring them to revenge the wicked
19:1. There was a certain Levite, who dwelt on the side of mount
Ephraim, who took a wife of Bethlehem Juda:
19:2. And she left him, and returned to her father's house in
Bethlehem, and abode with him four months.
19:3. And her husband followed her, willing to be reconciled with her,
and to speak kindly to her, and to bring her back with him, having with
him a servant and two asses:  and she received him, and brought him into
her father's house.  And when his father in law had heard this, and had
seen him, he met him with joy,
19:4. And embraced the man.  And the son in law tarried in the house of
his father in law three days, eating with him and drinking familiarly.
19:5. But on the fourth day, arising early in the morning, he desired
to depart.  But his father in law kept him, and said to him:  Taste first
a little bread, and strengthen thy stomach, and so thou shalt depart.
19:6. And they sat down together, and ate and drank.  And the father of
the young woman said to his son in law:  I beseech thee to stay here to
day, and let us make merry together.
19:7. But he rising up, began to be for departing.  And nevertheless his
father in law earnestly pressed him, and made him stay with him.
19:8. But when morning was come, the Levite prepared to go on his
journey.  And his father in law said to him again:  I beseech thee to
take a little meat, and strengthening thyself, till the day be farther
advanced, afterwards thou mayest depart.  And they ate together.
19:9. And the young man arose to set forward with his wife and servant.
And his father in law spoke to him again:  Consider that the day is
declining, and draweth toward evening:  tarry with me to day also, and
spend the day in mirth, and to morrow thou shalt depart, that thou
mayest go into thy house.
19:10. His son in law would not consent to his words:  but forthwith
went forward, and came over against Jebus, which by another name is
called Jerusalem, leading with him two asses loaden, and his concubine.
Concubine.  She was his lawful wife, but even lawful wives are
frequently in scripture called concubines.  See above, chap. 8. ver.
31.-ver. 16.  Jemini. . .That is, Benjamin.
19:11. And now they were come near Jebus, and the day was far spent:
and the servant said to his master:  Come, I beseech thee, let us turn
into the city of the Jebusites, and lodge there.
19:12. His master answered him:  I will not go into the town of another
nation, who are not of the children of Israel, but I will pass over to
19:13. And when I shall come thither, we will lodge there, or at least
in the city of Rama.
19:14. So they passed by Jebus, and went on their journey, and the sun
went down upon them when they were by Gabaa, which is in the tribe of
19:15. And they turned into it to lodge there.  And when they were come
in, they sat in the street of the city, for no man would receive them
19:16. And behold they saw an old man, returning out of the field and
from his work in the evening, and he also was of mount Ephraim, and
dwelt as a stranger in Gabaa; but the men of that country were the
children of Jemini.
19:17. And the old man lifting up his eyes, saw the man sitting with
his bundles in the street of the city, and said to him:  Whence comest
thou?  and whither goest thou?
19:18. He answered him:  We came out from Bethlehem Juda, and we are
going to our home, which is on the side of mount Ephraim, from whence
we went to Bethlehem:  and now we go to the house of God, and none will
receive us under his roof:
19:19. We have straw and hay for provender of the asses, and bread and
wine for the use of myself and of thy handmaid, and of the servant that
is with me:  we want nothing but lodging.
19:20. And the old man answered him:  Peace be with thee:  I will furnish
all things that are necessary:  only I beseech thee, stay not in the
19:21. And he brought him into his house, and gave provender to his
asses:  and after they had washed their feet, he entertained them with a
19:22. While they were making merry, and refreshing their bodies with
meat and drink, after the labour of the journey, the men of that city,
sons of Belial (that is, without yoke), came and beset the old man's
house, and began to knock at the door, calling to the master of the
house, and saying:  Bring forth the man that came into thy house, that
we may abuse him:
19:23. And the old man went out to them, and said:  Do not so, my
brethren, do not so wickedly:  because this man is come into my lodging,
and cease I pray you from this folly.
19:24. I have a maiden daughter, and this man hath a concubine, I will
bring them out to you, and you may humble them, and satisfy your lust:
only, I beseech you, commit not this crime against nature on the man.
19:25. They would not be satisfied with his words; which the man
seeing, brought out his concubine to them, and abandoned her to their
wickedness:  and when they had abused her all the night, they let her go
in the morning.
19:26. But the woman, at the dawning of the day, came to the door of
the house, where her lord lodged, and there fell down.
19:27. And in the morning the man arose, and opened the door, that he
might end the journey he had begun:  and behold his concubine lay before
the door with her hands spread on the threshold.
19:28. He thinking she was taking her rest, said to her:  Arise, and let
us be going.  But as she made no answer, perceiving she was dead, he
took her up, and laid her upon his ass, and returned to his house.
19:29. And when he was come home, he took a sword, and divided the dead
body of his wife with her bones into twelve parts, and sent the pieces
into all the borders of Israel.
19:30. And when every one had seen this, they all cried out:  There was
never such a thing done in Israel, from the day that our fathers came
up out of Egypt, until this day:  give sentence, and decree in common
what ought to be done.
Judges Chapter 20
The Israelites warring against Benjamin are twice defeated; but in the
third battle the Benjamites are all slain, saving six hundred men.
20:1. Then all the children of Israel went out, and gathered together
as one man, from Dan to Bersabee, with the land of Galaad, to the Lord
20:2. And all the chiefs of the people, and all the tribes of Israel,
met together in the assembly of the people of God, four hundred
thousand footmen fit for war.
20:3. (Nor were the children of Benjamin ignorant that the children of
Israel were come up to Maspha.)  And the Levite, the husband of the
woman that was killed being asked, how so great a wickedness had been
20:4. Answered:  I came into Gabaa, of Benjamin, with my wife, and there
20:5. And behold the men of that city, in the night beset the house
wherein I was, intending to kill me, and abused my wife with an
incredible fury of lust, so that at last she died.
20:6. And I took her and cut her in pieces, and sent the parts into all
the borders of your possession:  because there never was so heinous a
crime, and so great an abomination committed in Israel.
20:7. You are all here, O children of Israel, determine what you ought
20:8. And all the people standing, answered as by the voice of one man:
We will not return to our tents, neither shall any one of us go into
his own house:
20:9. But this we will do in common against Gabaa:
20:10. We will take ten men of a hundred out of all the tribes of
Israel, and a hundred out of a thousand, and a thousand out of ten
thousand, to bring victuals for the army, that we may fight against
Gabaa of Benjamin, and render to it for its wickedness, what it
20:11. And all Israel were gathered together against the city, as one
man, with one mind, and one counsel:
20:12. And they sent messengers to all the tribe of Benjamin, to say to
them:  Why hath so great an abomination been found among you?
20:13. Deliver up the men of Gabaa, that have committed this heinous
crime, that they may die, and the evil may be taken away out of Israel.
But they would not hearken to the proposition of their brethren the
children of Israel:
20:14. But out of all the cities which were of their lot, they gathered
themselves together into Gabaa, to aid them, and to fight against the
whole people of Israel.
20:15. And there were found of Benjamin five and twenty thousand men
that drew the sword, besides the inhabitants of Gabaa,
20:16. Who were seven hundred most valiant men, fighting with the left
hand as well as with the right:  and slinging stones so sure that they
could hit even a hair, and not miss by the stone's going on either
20:17. Of the men of Israel also, beside the children of Benjamin, were
found four hundred thousand that drew swords and were prepared to
20:18. And they arose and came to the house of God, that is, to Silo:
and they consulted God, and said:  Who shall be in our army the first to
go to the battle against the children of Benjamin?  And the Lord
answered them:  Let Juda be your leader.
20:19. And forthwith the children of Israel rising in the morning,
camped by Gabaa:
20:20. And going out from thence to fight against Benjamin, began to
assault the city.
20:21. And the children of Benjamin coming out of Gabaa slew of the
children of Israel that day two and twenty thousand men.
20:22. Again Israel, trusting in their strength and their number, set
their army in array in the same place, where they had fought before:
Trusting in their strength. . .The Lord suffered them to be overthrown
and many of them to be slain, though their cause was just; partly in
punishment of the idolatry which they exercised or tolerated in the
tribe of Dan, and elsewhere; and partly because they trusted in their
own strength; and therefore, though he bid them fight, he would not
give them the victory, till they were thoroughly humbled and had
learned to trust in him alone.
20:23. Yet so that they first went up and wept before the Lord until
night:  and consulted him and said:  Shall I go out any more to fight
against the children of Benjamin my brethren or not?  And he answered
them:  Go up against them, and join battle.
20:24. And when the children of Israel went out the next day to fight
against the children of Benjamin,
20:25. The children of Benjamin sallied forth out of the gates of
Gabaa:  and meeting them, made so great a slaughter of them, as to kill
eighteen thousand men that drew the sword.
20:26. Wherefore all the children of Israel came to the house of God,
and sat and wept before the Lord:  and they fasted that day till the
evening, and offered to him holocausts, and victims of peace offerings,
20:27. And inquired of him concerning their state.  At that time the ark
of the covenant of the Lord was there,
20:28. And Phinees, the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron, was over the
house.  So they consulted the Lord, and said:  Shall we go out any more
to fight against the children of Benjamin, our brethren, or shall we
cease?  And the Lord said to them:  Go up, for to morrow I will deliver
them into your hands.
20:29. And the children of Israel set ambushes round about the city of
20:30. And they drew up their army against Benjamin the third time, as
they had done the first and second.
20:31. And the children of Benjamin boldly issued out of the city, and
seeing their enemies flee, pursued them a long way, so as to wound and
kill some of them, as they had done the first and second day, whilst
they fled by two highways, whereof one goeth up to Bethel and the other
to Gabaa, and they slew about thirty men:
20:32. For they thought to cut them off as they did before.  But they
artfully feigning a flight, designed to draw them away from the city,
and by their seeming to flee, to bring them to the highways aforesaid.
20:33. Then all the children of Israel rising up out of the places
where they were, set their army in battle array, in the place which is
called Baalthamar.  The ambushes also, which were about the city, began
by little and little to come forth,
20:34. And to march from the west side of the city.  And other ten
thousand men chosen out of all Israel, attacked the inhabitants of the
city.  And the battle grew hot against the children of Benjamin:  and
they understood not that present death threatened them on every side.
20:35. And the Lord defeated them before the children of Israel, and
they slew of them in that day five and twenty thousand, and one
hundred, all fighting men, and that drew the sword.
20:36. But the children of Benjamin, when they saw themselves to be too
weak, began to flee.  Which the children of Israel seeing, gave them
place to flee, that they might come to the ambushes that were prepared,
which they had set near the city.
20:37. And they that were in ambush arose on a sudden out of their
coverts, and whilst Benjamin turned their backs to the slayers, went
into the city, and smote it with the edge of the sword.
20:38. Now the children of Israel had given a sign to them, whom they
had laid in ambushes, that after they had taken the city, they should
make a fire:  that by the smoke rising on high, they might shew that the
city was taken.
20:39. And when the children of Israel saw this in the battle, (for the
children of Benjamin thought they fled, and pursued them vigorously,
killing thirty men of their army)
20:40. And perceived, as it were, a pillar of smoke rise up from the
city; and Benjamin looking back, saw that the city was taken, and that
the flames ascended on high:
20:41. They that before had made as if they fled, turning their faces,
stood bravely against them.  Which the children of Benjamin seeing,
turned their backs,
20:42. And began to go towards the way of the desert, the enemy
pursuing them thither also.  And they that fired the city came also out
to meet them.
20:43. And so it was, that they were slain on both sides by the
enemies, and there was no rest of their men dying.  They fell and were
beaten down on the east side of the city of Gabaa.
20:44. And they that were slain in the same place, were eighteen
thousand men, all most valiant soldiers.
20:45. And when they that remained of Benjamin saw this, they fled into
the wilderness, and made towards the rock that is called Remmon.  In
that flight also, as they were straggling, and going different ways;
they slew of them five thousand men.  And as they went farther, they
still pursued them, and slew also other two thousand.
20:46. And so it came to pass, that all that were slain of Benjamin, in
divers places, were five and twenty thousand fighting men, most valiant
20:47. And there remained of all the number of Benjamin only six
hundred men that were able to escape, and flee to the wilderness:  and
they abode in the rock Remmon four months.
20:48. But the children of Israel returning, put all the remains of the
city to the sword, both men and beasts, and all the cities and villages
of Benjamin were consumed with devouring flames.
Judges Chapter 21
The tribe of Benjamin is saved from being utterly extinct, by providing
wives for the six hundred that remained.
21:1. Now the children of Israel had also sworn in Maspha, saying:  None
of us shall give of his daughters to the children of Benjamin to wife.
21:2. And they all came to the house of God in Silo, and sitting before
him till the evening, lifted up their voices, and began to lament and
weep, saying:
21:3. O Lord God of Israel, why is so great an evil come to pass in thy
people, that this day one tribe should be taken away from among us?
21:4. And rising early the next day, they built an altar:  and offered
there holocausts, and victims of peace, and they said:
21:5. Who is there among all the tribes of Israel that came not up with
the army of the Lord?  for they had bound themselves with a great oath,
when they were in Maspha, that whosoever were wanting should be slain.
21:6. And the children of Israel being moved with repentance for their
brother Benjamin, began to say:  One tribe is taken away from Israel.
21:7. Whence shall they take wives?  For we have all in general sworn,
not to give our daughters to them.
21:8. Therefore they said:  Who is there of all the tribes of Israel,
that came not up to the Lord to Maspha?  And, behold, the inhabitants of
Jabes Galaad were found not to have been in that army.
21:9. (At that time also when they were in Silo, no one of them was
found there,)
21:10. So they sent ten thousand of the most valiant men, and commanded
them, saying:  Go and put the inhabitants of Jabes Galaad to the sword,
with their wives and their children.
21:11. And this is what you shall observe:  Every male, and all women
that have known men, you shall kill, but the virgins you shall save.
21:12. And there were found of Jabes Galaad four hundred virgins, that
had not known the bed of a man, and they brought them to the camp in
Silo, into the land of Chanaan.
21:13. And they sent messengers to the children of Benjamin, that were
in the rock Remmon, and commanded them to receive them in peace.
21:14. And the children of Benjamin came at that time, and wives were
given them of Jabes Galaad:  but they found no others, whom they might
give in like manner.
21:15. And all Israel was very sorry, and repented for the destroying
of one tribe out of Israel.
21:16. And the ancients said:  What shall we do with the rest, that have
not received wives?  for all the women in Benjamin are dead.
21:17. And we must use all care, and provide with great diligence, that
one tribe be not destroyed out of Israel.
21:18. For as to our own daughters we cannot give them, being bound
with an oath and a curse, whereby we said:  Cursed be he that shall give
Benjamin any of his daughters to wife.
21:19. So they took counsel, and said:  Behold, there is a yearly
solemnity of the Lord in Silo, which is situate on the north of the
city of Bethel, and on the east side of the way, that goeth from Bethel
to Sichem, and on the south of the town of Lebona.
21:20. And they commanded the children of Benjamin and said:  Go, and
lie hid in the vineyards,
21:21. And when you shall see the daughters of Silo come out, as the
custom is, to dance, come ye on a sudden out of the vineyards, and
catch you every man his wife among them, and go into the land of
21:22. And when their fathers and their brethren shall come, and shall
begin to complain against you, and to chide, we will say to them:  Have
pity on them:  for they took them not away as by the right of war or
conquest, but when they asked to have them, you gave them not, and the
fault was committed on your part.
21:23. And the children of Benjamin did as they had been commanded:
and, according to their number, they carried off for themselves every
man his wife of them that were dancing:  and they went into their
possession, and built up their cities, and dwelt in them.
21:24. The children of Israel also returned by their tribes, and
families, to their dwellings.  In those days there was no king in
Israel:  but every one did that which seemed right to himself.
THE BOOK OF RUTH
This Book is called RUTH, from the name of the person whose history is
here recorded:  who, being a Gentile, became a convert to the true
faith, and marrying Booz, the great-grandfather of David, was one of
those from whom Christ sprung according to the flesh, and an
illustrious figure of the Gentile church.  It is thought this book was
written by the prophet Samuel.
Ruth Chapter 1
Elimelech of Bethlehem going with his wife Noemi, and two sons, into
the land of Moab, dieth there.  His sons marry wives of that country and
die without issue.  Noemi returneth home with her daughter in law Ruth,
who refuseth to part with her.
1:1. In the days of the judges, when the judges ruled, there came a
famine in the land.  And a certain man of Bethlehem Juda, went to
sojourn in the land of Moab with his wife and his two sons.
1:2. He was named Elimelech, and his wife Noemi:  and his two sons, the
one Mahalon, and the other Chelion, Ephrathites of Bethlehem Juda.  And
entering into the country of Moab, they abode there.
1:3. And Elimelech the husband of Noemi died:  and she remained with her
1:4. And they took wives of the women of Moab, of which one was called
Orpha, and the other Ruth.  And they dwelt their ten years,
1:5. And they both died, to wit, Mahalon and Chelion:  and the woman was
left alone, having lost both her sons and her husband.
1:6. And she arose to go from the land of Moab to her own country, with
both her daughters in law:  for she had heard that the Lord had looked
upon his people, and had given them food.
1:7. Wherefore she went forth out of the place of her sojournment, with
both her daughters in law:  and being now in the way to return into the
land of Juda,
1:8. She said to them:  Go ye home to your mothers, the Lord deal
mercifully with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me.
1:9. May he grant you to find rest in the houses of the husbands whom
you shall take.  And she kissed them.  And they lifted up their voice,
and began to weep,
1:10. And to say:  We will go on with thee to thy people.
1:11. But she answered them:  Return, my daughters:  why come ye with me?
have I any more sons in my womb, that you may hope for husbands of me?
1:12. Return again, my daughters, and go your ways:  for I am now spent
with age, and not fit for wedlock.  Although I might conceive this
night, and bear children,
1:13. If you would wait till they were grown up, and come to man's
estate, you would be old women before you marry.  Do not so, my
daughters, I beseech you:  for I am grieved the more for your distress,
and the hand of the Lord is gone out against me.
1:14. And they lifted up their voice, and began to weep again:  Orpha
kissed her mother in law, and returned:  Ruth stuck close to her mother
1:15. And Noemi said to her:  Behold thy kinswoman is returned to her
people, and to her gods, go thou with her.
To her gods, etc. . .Noemi did not mean to persuade Ruth to return to
the false gods she had formerly worshipped:  but by this manner of
speech, insinuated to her, that if she would go with her, she must
renounce her false gods and return to the Lord the God of Israel.
1:16. She answered:  Be not against me, to desire that I should leave
thee and depart:  for whithersoever thou shalt go, I will go:  and where
thou shalt dwell, I also will dwell.  Thy people shall be my people, and
thy God my God.
1:17. The land that shall receive thee dying, in the same will I die:
and there will I be buried.  The Lord do so and so to me, and add more
also, if aught but death part me and thee.
The Lord do so and so, etc. . .A form of swearing usual in the history
of the Old Testament, by which the person wished such and such evils to
fall upon them, if they did not do what they said.
1:18. Then Noemi seeing that Ruth was steadfastly determined to go with
her, would not be against it, nor persuade her any more to return to
her friends:
1:19. So they went together, and came to Bethlehem.  And when they were
come into the city, the report was quickly spread among all:  and the
women said:  This is that Noemi.
1:20. But she said to them:  Call me not Noemi (that is, beautiful,) but
call me Mara (that is, bitter), for the Almighty hath quite filled me
with bitterness.
1:21. I went out full and the Lord hath brought me back empty.  Why then
do you call me Noemi, whom the Lord hath humbled, and the Almighty hath
1:22. So Noemi came with Ruth, the Moabitess, her daughter in law, from
the land of her sojournment:  and returned into Bethlehem, in the
beginning of the barley harvest.
Ruth Chapter 2
Ruth gleaneth in the field of Booz, who sheweth her favour.
2:1. Now her husband Elimelech had a kinsman, a powerful man, and very
rich, whose name was Booz.
2:3. And Ruth, the Moabitess, said to her mother in law:  If thou wilt,
I will go into the field, and glean the ears of corn that escape the
hands of the reapers, wheresoever I shall find grace with a
householder, that will be favourable to me.  And she answered her:  Go,
my daughter.
2:3. She went, therefore, and gleaned the ears of corn after the
reapers.  And it happened that the owner of that field was Booz, who was
of the kindred of Elimelech.
2:4. And behold, he came out of Bethlehem, and said to the reapers:  The
Lord be with you.  And they answered him:  The Lord bless thee.
2:5. And Booz said to the young man that was set over the reapers:
Whose maid is this ?
2:6. And he answered him:  This is the Moabitess, who came with Noemi,
from the land of Moab,
2:7. And she desired leave to glean the ears of corn that remain,
following the steps of the reapers:  and she hath been in the field from
morning till now, and hath not gone home for one moment.
2:8. And Booz said to Ruth:  Hear me, daughter, do not go to glean in
any other field, and do not depart from this place:  but keep with my
2:9. And follow where they reap.  For I have charged my young men, not
to molest thee:  and if thou art thirsty, go to the vessels, and drink
of the waters whereof the servants drink.
2:10. She fell on her face, and worshipping upon the ground, said to
him:  Whence cometh this to me, that I should find grace before thy
eyes, and that thou shouldst vouchsafe to take notice of me, a woman of
another country?
2:11. And he answered her:  All hath been told me, that thou hast done
to thy mother in law after the death of thy husband:  and how thou hast
left thy parents, and the land wherein thou wast born, and art come to
a people which thou knewest not heretofore.
2:12. The Lord render unto thee for thy work, and mayst thou receive a
full reward of the Lord the God of Israel, to whom thou art come, and
under whose wings thou art fled.
2:13. And she said:  I have found grace in thy eyes, my lord, who hast
comforted me, and hast spoken to the heart of thy handmaid, who am not
like to one of thy maids.
2:14. And Booz said to her:  At mealtime come thou hither, and eat of
the bread, and dip thy morsel in the vinegar.  So she sat at the side of
the reapers, and she heaped to herself frumenty, and ate and was
filled, and took the leavings.
2:15. And she arose from thence, to glean the ears of corn as before.
And Booz commanded his servants, saying:  If she would even reap with
you, hinder her not:
2:16. And let fall some of your handfuls of purpose, and leave them,
that she may gather them without shame, and let no man rebuke her when
she gathereth them.
2:17. She gleaned therefore in the field till evening:  and beating out
with a rod, and threshing what she had gleaned, she found about the
measure of an ephi of barley, that is, three bushels:
2:18. Which she took up, and returned into the city, and shewed it to
her mother in law:  moreover, she brought out, and gave her of the
remains of her meat, wherewith she had been filled.
2:19. And her mother in law said to her:  Where hast thou gleaned today,
and where hast thou wrought?  blessed be he that hath had pity on thee.
And she told her with whom she had wrought:  and she told the man's
name, that he was called Booz.
2:20. And Noemi answered her:  Blessed be he of the Lord:  because the
same kindness which he shewed to the living, he hath kept also to the
dead.  And again she said:  The man is our kinsman.
2:21. And Ruth said:  He also charged me, that I should keep close to
his reapers, till all the corn should be reaped.
2:22. And her mother in law said to her:  It is better for thee, my
daughter, to go out to reap with his maids, lest in another man's field
some one may resist thee.
2:23. So she kept close to the maids of Booz:  and continued to glean
with them, till all the barley and the wheat were laid up in the barns.
Ruth Chapter 3
Ruth instructed by her mother in law lieth at Booz's feet, claiming him
for her husband by the law of affinity:  she receiveth a good answer,
and six measures of barley.
3:1. After she was returned to her mother in law, Noemi said to her:  My
daughter, I will seek rest for thee, and will provide that it may be
well with thee.
3:2. This Booz, with whose maids thou wast joined in the field, is our
near kinsman, and behold this night he winnoweth barley in the
threshingfloor.
3:3. Wash thyself therefore and anoint thee, and put on thy best
garments, and go down to the barnfloor:  but let not the man see thee,
till he shall have done eating and drinking.
3:4. And when he shall go to sleep, mark the place wherein he sleepeth:
and thou shalt go in, and lift up the clothes wherewith he is covered
towards his feet, and shalt lay thyself down there:  and he will tell
thee what thou must do.
3:5. She answered:  Whatsoever thou shalt command, I will do.
3:6. And she went down to the barnfloor, and did all that her mother in
law had bid her.
3:7. And when Booz had eaten, and drunk, and was merry, he went to
sleep by the heap of sheaves, and she came softly, and uncovering his
feet, laid herself down.
3:8. And behold, when it was now midnight the man was afraid, and
troubled:  and he saw a woman lying at his feet,
3:9. And he said to her:  Who art thou ?  And she answered:  I am Ruth,
thy handmaid:  spread thy coverlet over thy servant, for thou art a near
3:10. And he said:  Blessed art thou of the Lord, my daughter, and thy
latter kindness has surpassed the former:  because thou hast not
followed young men either poor or rich.
Thy latter kindness, viz. . .to thy husband deceased in seeking to keep
up his name and family by marrying his relation according to the law,
and not following after young men.  For Booz, it seems, was then in
3:11. Fear not therefore, but whatsoever thou shalt say to me I will do
to thee.  For all the people that dwell within the gates of my city,
know that thou art a virtuous woman.
3:12. Neither do I deny myself to be near of kin, but there is another
nearer than I.
3:13. Rest thou this night:  and when morning is come, if he will take
thee by the right of kindred, all is well:  but if he will not, I will
undoubtedly take thee, so the Lord liveth:  sleep till the morning.
3:14. So she slept at his feet till the night was going off.  And she
arose before men could know one another, and Booz said:  Beware lest any
man know that thou camest hither.
3:15. And again he said:  Spread thy mantle, wherewith thou art covered,
and hold it with both hands.  And when she spread it and held it, he
measured six measures of barley, and laid it upon her.  And she carried
it, and went into the city,
3:16. And came to her mother in law; who said to her:  What hast thou
done, daughter?  And she told her all that the man had done to her.
3:17. And she said:  Behold he hath given me six measures of barley:  for
he said:  I will not have thee return empty to thy mother in law.
3:18. And Noemi said:  Wait, my daughter, till we see what end the thing
will have.  For the man will not rest until he have accomplished what he
Ruth Chapter 4
Upon the refusal of the nearer kinsman, Booz marrieth Ruth, who
bringeth forth Obed, the grandfather of David.
4:1. Then Booz went up to the gate, and sat there.  And when he had seen
the kinsman going by, of whom he had spoken before, he said to him,
calling him by his name:  Turn aside for a little while, and sit down
here.  He turned aside, and sat down.
4:2. And Booz, taking ten men of the ancients of the city, said to
them:  Sit ye down here.
4:3. They sat down, and he spoke to the kinsman:  Noemi, who is returned
from the country of Moab will sell a parcel of land that belonged to
our brother Elimelech.
4:4. I would have thee to understand this, and would tell thee before
all that sit here, and before the ancients of my people.  If thou wilt
take possession of it by the right of kindred:  buy it, and possess it:
but if it please thee not, tell me so, that I may know what I have to
do.  For there is no near kinsman besides thee, who art first, and me,
who am second.  But he answered:  I will buy the field.
4:5. And Booz said to him:  When thou shalt buy the field at the woman's
hand, thou must take also Ruth, the Moabitess, who was the wife of the
deceased:  to raise up the name of thy kinsman in his inheritance.
4:6. He answered:  I yield up my right of next akin:  for I must not cut
off the posterity of my own family.  Do thou make use of my privilege,
which I profess I do willingly forego.
4:7. Now this in former times was the manner in Israel between kinsmen,
that if at any time one yielded his right to another:  that the grant
might be sure, the man put off his shoe and gave it to his neighbour;
this was a testimony of cession of right in Israel.
4:8. So Booz said to his kinsman:  Put off thy shoe.  And immediately he
took it off from his foot.
4:9. And he said to the ancients, and to all the people:  You are
witnesses this day, that I have bought all that was Elimelech's, and
Chelion's, and Mahalon's, of the hand of Noemi:
4:10. And have taken to wife Ruth, the Moabitess, the wife of Mahalon,
to raise up the name of the deceased in his inheritance lest his name
be cut off, from among his family and his brethren and his people.  You,
I say, are witnesses of this thing.
4:11. Then all the people that were in the gate, and the ancients,
answered:  We are witnesses:  The Lord make this woman who cometh into
thy house, like Rachel, and Lia, who built up the house of Israel:  that
she may be an example of virtue in Ephrata, and may have a famous name
in Bethlehem:
Ephrata. . .Another name of Bethlehem.
4:12. And that the house may be, as the house of Phares, whom Thamar
bore unto Juda, of the seed which the Lord shall give thee of this
young woman.
4:13. Booz therefore took Ruth, and married her:  and went in unto her,
and the Lord gave her to conceive, and to bear a son.
4:14. And the women said to Noemi:  Blessed be the Lord, who hath not
suffered thy family to want a successor:  that his name should be
preserved in Israel.
4:15. And thou shouldst have one to comfort thy soul, and cherish thy
old age.  For he is born of thy daughter in law:  who loveth thee:  and
is much better to thee, than if thou hadst seven sons.
4:16. And Noemi taking the child, laid it in her bosom, and she carried
it, and was a nurse unto it.
4:17. And the women, her neighbours, congratulating with her, and
saying, There is a son born to Noemi, called his name Obed:  he is the
father of Isai, the father of David.
4:18. These are the generations of Phares:  Phares begot Esron,
4:19. Esron begot Aram, Aram begot Aminadab,
4:20. Aminadab begot Nahasson, Nahasson begot Salmon,
4:21. Salmon begot Booz, Booz begot Obed,
4:22. Obed begot Isai, Isai begot David.
THE FIRST BOOK OF SAMUEL, OTHERWISE CALLED THE FIRST BOOK OF KINGS
This and the following Book are called by the Hebrews the books of
Samuel, because they contain the history of Samuel, and of the two
kings, Saul and David, whom he anointed.  They are more commonly named
by the Fathers, the first and second book of kings.  As to the writer of
them, it is the common opinion that Samuel composed the first book, as
far as the twenty-fifth chapter; and that the prophets Nathan and Gad
finished the first, and wrote the second book.  See 1 Paralipomenon,
alias 1 Chronicles, 29.29.
1 Kings Chapter 1
Anna the wife of Elcana being barren, by vow and prayer obtaineth a
son:  whom she calleth Samuel:  and presenteth him to the service of God
in Silo, according to her vow.
1:1. There was a man of Ramathaimsophim, of Mount Ephraim, and his name
was Elcana, the son of Jeroham, the son of Eliu, the son of Thohu, the
son of Suph, an Ephraimite:
An Ephraimite. . .He was of the tribe of Levi, 1.  Par. 6.34, but is
called an Ephraimite from dwelling in mount Ephraim.
1:2. And he had two wives, the name of one was Anna, and the name of
the other Phenenna.  Phenenna had children:  but Anna had no children.
1:3. And this man went up out of his city upon the appointed days, to
adore and to offer sacrifice to the Lord of hosts in Silo.  And the two
sons of Heli, Ophni and Phinees, were there priests of the Lord.
1:4. Now the day came, and Elcana offered sacrifice, and gave to
Phenenna, his wife, and to all her sons and daughters, portions:
1:5. But to Anna he gave one portion with sorrow, because he loved
Anna.  And the Lord had shut up her womb.
1:6. Her rival also afflicted her, and troubled her exceedingly,
insomuch that she upbraided her, that the Lord had shut up her womb:
1:7. And thus she did every year, when the time returned, that they
went up to the temple of the Lord:  and thus she provoked her:  but Anna
wept, and did not eat.
1:8. Then Elcana, her husband, said to her:  Anna, why weepest thou?  and
why dost thou not eat?  and why dost thou afflict thy heart?  Am not I
better to thee than ten children?
1:9. So Anna arose after she had eaten and drunk in Silo:  And Heli, the
priest, sitting upon a stool before the door of the temple of the Lord;
1:10. As Anna had her heart full of grief, she prayed to the Lord,
shedding many tears,
1:11. And she made a vow, saying:  O Lord of hosts, if thou wilt look
down, and wilt be mindful of me, and not forget thy handmaid, and wilt
give to thy servant a manchild:  I will give him to the Lord all the
days of his life, and no razor shall come upon his head.
1:12. And it came to pass, as she multiplied prayers before the Lord,
that Heli observed her mouth.
1:13. Now Anna spoke in her heart, and only her lips moved, but her
voice was not heard at all.  Heli therefore thought her to be drunk,
1:14. And said to her:  How long wilt thou be drunk?  digest a little the
wine, of which thou hast taken too much.
1:15. Anna answering, said:  Not so, my lord:  for I am an exceeding
unhappy woman, and have drunk neither wine nor any strong drink, but I
have poured out my soul before the Lord.
1:16. Count not thy handmaid for one of the daughters of Belial:  for
out of the abundance of my sorrow and grief have I spoken till now.
1:17. Then Heli said to her:  Go in peace:  and the God of Israel grant
thee thy petition, which thou hast asked of him.
1:18. And she said:  Would to God thy handmaid may find grace in thy
eyes.  So the woman went on her way, and ate, and her countenance was no
more changed.
1:19. And they rose in the morning, and worshipped before the Lord:  and
they returned, and came into their house at Ramatha.  And Elcana knew
Anna his wife:  And the Lord remembered her.
1:20. And it came to pass when the time was come about, Anna conceived
and bore a son, and called his name Samuel:  because she had asked him
of the Lord.
Samuel. . .This name imports, asked of God.
1:21. And Elcana, her husband, went up, and all his house, to offer to
the Lord the solemn sacrifice, and his vow.
1:22. But Anna went not up:  for she said to her husband:  I will not go
till the child be weaned, and till I may carry him, that he may appear
before the Lord, and may abide always there.
1:23. And Elcana, her husband, said to her:  Do what seemeth good to
thee, and stay till thou wean him:  and I pray that the Lord may fulfil
his word.  So the woman staid at home, and gave her son suck, till she
1:24. And after she had weaned him, she carried him with her, with
three calves, and three bushels of flour, and a bottle of wine, and she
brought him to the house of the Lord in Silo.  Now the child was as yet
1:25. And they immolated a calf, and offered the child to Heli.
1:26. And Anna said:  I beseech thee, my lord, as thy soul liveth, my
lord:  I am that woman, who stood before thee here praying to the Lord.
1:27. For this child did I pray, and the Lord hath granted me my
petition, which I asked of him.
1:28. Therefore I also have lent him to the Lord all the days of his
life, he shall be lent to the Lord.  And they adored the Lord there.  And
Anna prayed, and said:
1 Kings Chapter 2
The canticle of Anna.  The wickedness of the sons of Heli:  for which
they are not duly corrected by their father.  A prophecy against the
house of Heli.
2:1. My heart hath rejoiced in the Lord, and my horn is exalted in my
God:  my mouth is enlarged over my enemies:  because I have joyed in thy
My horn. . .The horn in the scriptures signifies strength, power, the
horn is said to be exalted, when a person receives an increase of
strength or glory.
2:2. There is none holy as the Lord is:  for there is no other beside
thee, and there is none strong like our God.
2:3. Do not multiply to speak lofty things, boasting:  let old matters
depart from your mouth:  for the Lord is a God of all knowledge, and to
him are thoughts prepared.
2:4. The bow of the mighty is overcome, and the weak are girt with
2:5. They that were full before, have hired out themselves for bread:
and the hungry are filled, so that the barren hath borne many:  and she
that had many children is weakened.
2:6. The Lord killeth and maketh alive, he bringeth down to hell, and
bringeth back again.
2:7. The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich, he humbleth and he exalteth:
2:8. He raiseth up the needy from the dust, and lifteth up the poor
from the dunghill:  that he may sit with princes, and hold the throne of
glory.  For the poles of the earth are the Lord's, and upon them he hath
set the world.
2:9. He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked shall be
silent in darkness; because no man shall prevail by his own strength.
2:10. The adversaries of the Lord shall fear him:  and upon them shall
he thunder in the heavens:  The Lord shall judge the ends of the earth,
and he shall give empire to his king, and shall exalt the horn of his
2:11. And Elcana went to Ramatha, to his house:  but the child
ministered in the sight of the Lord before the face of Heli the priest.
2:12. Now the sons of Heli were children of Belial, not knowing the
2:13. Nor the office of the priests to the people:  but whosoever had
offered a sacrifice, the servant of the priest came, while the flesh
was in boiling, with a fleshhook of three teeth in his hand,
2:14. And thrust it into the kettle, or into the cauldron, or into the
pot, or into the pan:  and all that the fleshhook brought up, the priest
took to himself.  Thus did they to all Israel that came to Silo.
2:15. Also before they burnt the fat, the servant of the priest came,
and said to the man that sacrificed:  Give me flesh to boil for the
priest:  for I will not take of thee sodden flesh, but raw.
2:16. And he that sacrificed said to him:  Let the fat first be burnt to
day, according to the custom, and then take to thee as much as thy soul
desireth.  But he answered, and said to him:  Not so:  but thou shalt
give it me now, or else I will take it by force.
2:17. Wherefore the sin of the young men was exceeding great before the
Lord:  because they withdrew men from the sacrifice of the Lord.
2:18. But Samuel ministered before the face of the Lord:  being a child
girded with a linen ephod.
2:19. And his mother made him a little coat, which she brought to him
on the appointed days, when she went up with her husband, to offer the
solemn sacrifice.
2:20. And Heli blessed Elcana and his wife:  and he said to him:  The
Lord give thee seed of this woman, for the loan thou hast lent to the
Lord.  And they went to their own home.
2:21. And the Lord visited Anna, and she conceived, and bore three
sons, and two daughters:  and the child Samuel became great before the
2:22. Now Heli was very old, and he heard all that his sons did to all
Israel:  and how they lay with the women that waited at the door of the
2:23. And he said to them:  Why do ye these kinds of things, which I
hear, very wicked things, from all the people?
2:24. Do not so, my sons:  for it is no good report that I hear, that
you make the people of the Lord to transgress.
2:25. If one man shall sin against another, God may be appeased in his
behalf:  but if a man shall sin against the Lord, who shall pray for
him?  And they hearkened not to the voice of their father, because the
Lord would slay them.
Who shall pray for him. . .By this word Heli would have his sons
understand, that by their wicked abuse of sacred things, and of the
very sacrifices which were appointed to appease the Lord, they deprived
themselves of the ordinary means of reconciliation with God; which was
by sacrifices.  The more, because they were the chief priests whose
business it was to intercede for all others, they had no other to offer
sacrifices and to make atonement for them.  Ibid.  Because the Lord would
slay them. . .In consequence of their manifold sacrileges, he would not
soften their hearts with his efficacious grace, but was determined to
destroy them.
2:26. But the child Samuel advanced, and grew on, and pleased both the
Lord and men.
2:27. And there came a man of God to Heli, and said to him:  Thus saith
the Lord:  Did I not plainly appear to thy father's house, when they
were in Egypt in the house of Pharao?
2:28. And I chose him out of all the tribes of Israel to be my priest,
to go up to my altar, and burn incense to me, and to wear the ephod
before me:  and I gave to thy father's house of all the sacrifices of
the children of Israel.
2:29. Why have you kicked away my victims, and my gifts which I
commanded to be offered in the temple:  and thou hast rather honoured
thy sons than me, to eat the firstfruits of every sacrifice of my
people Israel?
2:30. Wherefore thus saith the Lord the God of Israel:  I said indeed
that thy house, and the house of thy father, should minister in my
sight, for ever.  But now saith the Lord:  Far be this from me:  but
whosoever shall glorify me, him will I glorify:  but they that despise
me, shall be despised.
2:31. Behold the days come:  and I will cut off thy arm, and the arm of
thy father's house, that there shall not be an old man in thy house.
2:32. And thou shalt see thy rival in the temple, in all the prosperity
of Israel, and there shall not be an old man in thy house for ever.
Thy rival. . .A priest of another race.  This was partly fulfilled, when
Abiathar, of the race of Heli, was removed from the priesthood, and
Sadoc, who was of another line, was substituted in his place.  But it
was more fully accomplished in the New Testament, when the priesthood
of Aaron gave place to that of Christ.
2:33. However, I will not altogether take away a man of thee from my
altar:  but that thy eyes may faint, and thy soul be spent:  and a great
part of thy house shall die, when they come to man's estate.
2:34. And this shall be a sign to thee, that shall come upon thy two
sons, Ophni and Phinees:  in one day they shall both of them die.
2:35. And I will raise me up a faithful priest, who shall do according
to my heart, and my soul and I will build him a faithful house, and he
shall walk all days before my anointed.
2:36. And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall remain in thy
house shall come that he may be prayed for, and shall offer a piece of
silver, and a roll of bread, and shall say:  Put me, I beseech thee, to
somewhat of the priestly office, that I may eat a morsel of bread.
1 Kings Chapter 3
Samuel is four times called by the Lord:  who revealeth to him the evil
that shall fall on Heli, and his house.
3:1. Now the child Samuel ministered to the Lord before Heli, and the
word of the Lord was precious in those days, there was no manifest
Precious. . .That is, rare.
3:2. And it came to pass one day when Heli lay in his place, and his
eyes were grown dim, that he could not see:
3:3. Before the lamp of God went out, Samuel slept in the temple of the
Lord, where the ark of God was.
3:4. And the Lord called Samuel.  And he answered:  Here am I.
3:5. And he ran to Heli, and said:  Here am I:  for thou didst call me.
He said:  I did not call:  go back and sleep.  And he went and slept.
3:6. And the Lord called Samuel again.  And Samuel arose and went to
Heli, and said:  Here am I:  for thou calledst me.  He answered:  I did
not call thee, my son:  return and sleep.
3:7. Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, neither had the word of the
Lord been revealed to him.
3:8. And the Lord called Samuel again the third time.  And he arose up
and went to Heli,
3:9. And said:  Here am I:  for thou didst call me.  Then Heli understood
that the Lord called the child, and he said to Samuel:  Go, and sleep:
and if he shall call thee any more, thou shalt say:  Speak, Lord, for
thy servant heareth.  So Samuel went, and slept in his place.
3:10. And the Lord came, and stood, and he called, as he had called the
other times, Samuel, Samuel.  And Samuel said:  Speak, Lord, for thy
servant heareth.
3:11. And the Lord said to Samuel:  Behold I do a thing in Israel:  and
whosoever shall hear it, both his ears shall tingle.
3:12. In that day I will raise up against Heli all the things I have
spoken concerning his house:  I will begin, and I will make an end.
3:13. For I have foretold unto him, that I will judge his house for
ever, for iniquity, because he knew that his sons did wickedly, and did
not chastise them.
3:14. Therefore have I sworn to the house of Heli, that the iniquity of
his house shall not be expiated with victims nor offerings for ever.
3:15. And Samuel slept till morning, and opened the doors of the house
of the Lord.  And Samuel feared to tell the vision to Heli.
3:16. Then Heli called Samuel, and said:  Samuel, my son.  And he
answered:  Here am I.
3:17. And he asked him:  What is the word that the Lord hath spoken to
thee?  I beseech thee hide it not from me.  May God do so and so to thee,
and add so and so, if thou hide from me one word of all that were said
3:18. So Samuel told him all the words, and did not hide them from him.
And he answered:  It is the Lord:  let him do what is good in his sight.
3:19. And Samuel grew, and the Lord was with him, and not one of his
words fell to the ground.
3:20. And all Israel, from Dan to Bersabee, knew that Samuel was a
faithful prophet of the Lord.
3:21. And the Lord again appeared in Silo, for the Lord revealed
himself to Samuel in Silo, according to the word of the Lord.  And the
word of Samuel came to pass to all Israel.
1 Kings Chapter 4
The Israelites being overcome by the Philistines, send for the ark of
God:  but they are beaten again, the sons of Heli are killed, and the
ark taken:  upon the hearing of the news Heli falleth backward and
4:1. And it came to pass in those days, that the Philistines gathered
themselves together to fight:  and Israel went out to war against the
Philistines, and camped by the Stone of help.  And the Philistines came
The Stone of help. . .In Hebrew Eben-ezer; so called from the help which
the Lord was pleased afterwards to give to his people Israel in that
place, by the prayers of Samuel, chap. 7.12.
4:2. And put their army in array against Israel.  And when they had
joined battle, Israel turned their backs to the Philistines:  and there
were slain in that fight, here and there in the fields, about four
thousand men.
4:3. And the people returned to the camp:  and the ancients of Israel
said:  Why hath the Lord defeated us to day before the Philistines?  Let
us fetch unto us the ark of the covenant of the Lord from Silo, and let
it come in the midst of us, that it may save us from the hand of our
4:4. So the people sent to Silo, and they brought from thence the ark
of the covenant of the Lord of hosts, sitting upon the cherubims:  and
the two sons of Heli, Ophni and Phinees, were with the ark of the
covenant of God.
4:5. And when the ark of the covenant of the Lord was come into the
camp, all Israel shouted with a great shout, and the earth rang again.
4:6. And the Philistines heard the noise of the shout, and they said:
What is this noise of a great shout in the camp of the Hebrews?  And
they understood that the ark of the Lord was come into the camp.
4:7. And the Philistines were afraid, saying:  God is come into the
camp.  And sighing, they said:
4:8. Woe to us:  for there was no such great joy yesterday, and the day
before:  Woe to us.  Who shall deliver us from the hand of these high
Gods?  these are the Gods that struck Egypt with all the plagues in the
4:9. Take courage, and behave like men, ye Philistines:  lest you come
to be servants to the Hebrews, as they have served you:  take courage
4:10. So the Philistines fought, and Israel was overthrown, and every
man fled to his own dwelling:  and there was an exceeding great
slaughter; for there fell of Israel thirty thousand footmen.
4:11. And the ark of God was taken:  and the two sons of Heli, Ophni and
Phinees, were slain.
4:12. And there ran a man of Benjamin out of the army, and came to Silo
the same day, with his clothes rent, and his head strewed with dust.
4:13. And when he was come, Heli sat upon a stool over against the way,
watching.  For his heart was fearful for the ark of God.  And when the
man was come into the city, he told it:  and all the city cried out.
4:14. And Heli heard the noise of the cry, and he said:  What meaneth
the noise of this uproar?  But he made haste, and came, and told Heli.
4:15. Now Heli was ninety and eight years old, and his eyes were dim,
and he could not see.
4:16. And he said to Heli:  I am he that came from the battle, and have
fled out of the field this day.  And he said to him:  What is there done,
4:17. And he that brought the news answered, and said:  Israel is fled
before the Philistines, and there has been a great slaughter of the
people:  moreover thy two sons, Ophni and Phinees, are dead:  and the ark
of God is taken.
4:18. And when he had named the ark of God, he fell from his stool
backwards by the door, and broke his neck and died.  For he was an old
man, and far advanced in years:  And he judged Israel forty years.
Named the ark, etc. . .There is great reason, by all these
circumstances, to hope that Heli died in a state of grace; and by his
temporal punishments escaped the eternal.
4:19. And his daughter in law, the wife of Phinees, was big with child,
and near her time:  and hearing the news that the ark of God was taken,
and her father in law, and her husband, were dead, she bowed herself
and fell in labour:  for her pains came upon her on a sudden.
4:20. And when she was upon the point of death, they that stood about
her said to her:  Fear not, for thou hast borne a son.  She answered them
not, nor gave heed to them.
4:21. And she called the child Ichabod, saying:  The glory is gone from
Israel, because the ark of God was taken, and for her father in law,
and for her husband:
Ichabod. . .That is, Where is the glory?  or, there is no glory.  We see
how much the Israelites lamented the loss of the ark, which was but the
symbol of God's presence among them.  How much more ought Christians to
lament the loss of God himself, when by sin they have driven him out of
their souls.
4:22. And she said:  The glory is departed from Israel, because the ark
of God was taken.
1 Kings Chapter 5
Dagon twice falleth down before the ark.  The Philistines are grievously
afflicted, wherever the ark cometh.
5:1. And the Philistines took the ark of God, and carried it from the
Stone of help into Azotus.
5:2. And the Philistines took the ark of God, and brought it into the
temple of Dagon, and set it by Dagon.
5:3. And when the Azotians arose early the next day, behold Dagon lay
upon his face on the ground before the ark of the Lord:  and they took
Dagon, and set him again in his place.
5:4. And the next day again, when they rose in the morning, they found
Dagon lying upon his face on the earth before the ark of the Lord:  and
the head of Dagon, and both the palms of his hands, were cut off upon
the threshold:
5:5. And only the stump of Dagon remained in its place.  For this cause
neither the priests of Dagon, nor any that go into the temple, tread on
the threshold of Dagon in Azotus unto this day.
5:6. And the hand of the Lord was heavy upon the Azotians, and he
destroyed them, and afflicted Azotus and the coasts thereof with
emerods.  And in the villages and fields in the midst of that country,
there came forth a multitude of mice, and there was the confusion of a
great mortality in the city.
5:7. And the men of Azotus seeing this kind of plague, said:  The ark of
the God of Israel shall not stay with us:  for his hand is heavy upon
us, and upon Dagon, our god.
5:8. And sending, they gathered together all the lords of the
Philistines to them, and said:  What shall we do with the ark of the God
of Israel?  And the Gethites answered:  Let the ark of the God of Israel
be carried about.  And they carried the ark of the God of Israel about.
5:9. And while they were carrying it about, the hand of the Lord came
upon every city with an exceeding great slaughter:  and he smote the men
of every city, both small and great, and they had emerods in their
secret parts.  And the Gethites consulted together, and made themselves
seats of skins.
5:10. Therefore they sent the ark of God into Accaron.  And when the ark
of God was come into Accaron, the Accaronites cried out, saying:  They
have brought the ark of the God of Israel to us, to kill us and our
5:11. They sent therefore, and gathered together all the lords of the
Philistines:  and they said:  Send away the ark of the God of Israel, and
let it return into its own place, and not kill us and our people.
5:12. For there was the fear of death in every city, and the hand of
God was exceeding heavy.  The men also that did not die, were afflicted
with the emerods:  and the cry of every city went up to heaven.
1 Kings Chapter 6
The ark is sent back to Bethsames:  where many are slain for looking
through curiosity into it.
6:1. Now the ark of God was in the land of the Philistines seven
6:2. And the Philistines called for the priests and the diviners,
saying:  What shall we do with the ark of the Lord?  tell us how we are
to send it back to its place.  And they said:
6:3. If you send back the ark of the God of Israel, send it not away
empty, but render unto him what you owe for sin, and then you shall be
healed:  and you shall know why his hand departeth not from you.
6:4. They answered:  What is it we ought to render unto him for sin?  and
they answered:
6:5. According to the number of the provinces of the Philistines you
shall make five golden emerods, and five golden mice:  for the same
plague hath been upon you all, and upon your lords.  And you shall make
the likeness of your emerods, and the likeness of the mice, that have
destroyed the land, and you shall give glory to the God of Israel:  to
see if he will take off his hand from you, and from your gods, and from
6:6. Why do you harden your hearts, as Egypt and Pharao hardened their
hearts?  did not he, after he was struck, then let them go, and they
6:7. Now, therefore, take and make a new cart:  and two kine that have
calved, on which there hath come no yoke, tie to the cart, and shut up
their calves at home.
6:8. And you shall take the ark of the Lord, and lay it on the cart,
and the vessels of gold, which you have paid him for sin, you shall put
into a little box at the side thereof:  and send it away, that it may
6:9. And you shall look:  and if it go up by the way of his own coasts,
towards Bethsames, then he hath done us this great evil:  but if not, we
shall know that it is not his hand hath touched us, but it hath
happened by chance.
6:10. They did therefore in this manner:  and taking two kine, that had
sucking calves, they yoked them to the cart, and shut up their calves
6:11. And they laid the ark of God upon the cart, and the little box
that had in it the golden mice, and the likeness of the emerods.
6:12. And the kine took the straight way, that leadeth to Bethsames,
and they went along the way, lowing as they went:  and turned not aside
neither to the right hand nor to the left:  and the lords of the
Philistines followed them as far as the borders of Bethsames.
6:13. Now the Bethsamites were reaping wheat in the valley:  and lifting
up their eyes, they saw the ark, and rejoiced to see it.
6:14. And the cart came into the field of Josue, a Bethsamite, and
stood there.  And there was a great stone, and they cut in pieces the
wood of the cart, and laid the kine upon it a holocaust to the Lord.
6:15. And the Levites took down the ark of God, and the little box that
was at the side of it, wherein were the vessels of gold, and they put
them upon the great stone.  The men also of Bethsames offered
holocausts, and sacrificed victims that day to the Lord.
6:16. And the five princes of the Philistines saw, and they returned to
Accaron the same day.
6:17. And these are the golden emerods, which the Philistines returned
for sin to the Lord:  For Azotus one, for Gaza one, for Ascalon one, for
Geth one, for Accaron one:
6:18. And the golden mice, according to the number of the cities of the
Philistines, of the five provinces, from the fenced city to the village
that was without wall, and to the great Abel (the stone) whereon they
set down the ark of the Lord, which was till that day in the field of
Josue the Bethsamite.
6:19. But he slew of the men of Bethsames, because they had seen the
ark of the Lord, and he slew of the people seventy men, and fifty
thousand of the common people.  And the people lamented, because the
Lord had smitten the people with a great slaughter.
Seen. . .And curiously looked into.  It is likely this plague reached to
all the neighbouring country, as well as the city of Bethsames.
6:20. And the men of Bethsames said:  Who shall be able to stand before
the Lord this holy God?  and to whom shall he go up from us?
6:21. And they sent messengers to the inhabitants of Cariathiarim,
saying:  The Philistines have brought back the ark of the Lord, come ye
down and fetch it up to you.
1 Kings Chapter 7
The ark is brought to Cariathiarim.  By Samuel's exhortation the people
cast away their idols and serve God alone.  The Lord defeateth the
Philistines, while Samuel offereth sacrifice.
7:1. And the men of Cariathiarim came, and fetched up the ark of the
Lord, and carried it into the house of Abinadab, in Gabaa:  and they
sanctified Eleazar, his son, to keep the ark of the Lord.
In Gabaa. . .That is, on the hill, for Gabaa signifieth a hill.
7:2. And it came to pass, that from the day the ark of the Lord abode
in Cariathiarim, days were multiplied (for it was now the twentieth
year) and all the house of Israel rested, following the Lord.
7:3. And Samuel spoke to all the house of Israel, saying:  If you turn
to the Lord with all your heart, put away the strange gods from among
you, Baalim and Astaroth:  and prepare your hearts unto the Lord, and
serve him only, and he will deliver you out of the hand of the
Philistines.
7:4. Then the children of Israel put away Baalim and Astaroth, and
served the Lord only.
7:5. And Samuel said:  Gather all Israel to Masphath, that I may pray to
the Lord for you.
7:6. And they gathered together to Masphath, and they drew water, and
poured it out before the Lord, and they fasted on that day, and they
said there:  We have sinned against the Lord.  And Samuel judged the
children of Israel in Masphath.
7:7. And the Philistines heard that the children of Israel were
gathered together to Masphath, and the lords of the Philistines went up
against Israel.  And when the children of Israel heard this, they were
afraid of the Philistines.
7:8. And they said to Samuel:  Cease not to cry to the Lord our God for
us, that he may save us out of the hand of the Philistines.
7:9. And Samuel took a sucking lamb, and offered it whole for a
holocaust to the Lord:  and Samuel cried to the Lord for Israel, and the
Lord heard him.
7:10. And it came to pass, when Samuel was offering the holocaust, the
Philistines began the battle against Israel:  but the Lord thundered
with a great thunder on that day upon the Philistines, and terrified
them, and they were overthrown before the face of Israel.
7:11. And the men of Israel going out of Masphath, pursued after the
Philistines, and made slaughter of them till they came under Bethchar.
7:12. And Samuel took a stone, and laid it between Masphath and Sen:
and he called the place The stone of help.  And he said:  Thus far the
Lord hath helped us.
7:13. And the Philistines were humbled, and they did not come any more
into the borders of Israel.  And the hand of the Lord was against the
Philistines, all the days of Samuel.
7:14. And the cities which the Philistines had taken from Israel, were
restored to Israel, from Accaron to Geth, and their borders:  and he
delivered Israel from the hand of the Philistines, and there was peace
between Israel and the Amorrhites.
7:15. And Samuel judged Israel all the days of his life:
7:16. And he went every year about to Bethel and to Galgal and to
Masphath, and he judged Israel in the foresaid places.
7:17. And he returned to Ramatha:  for there was his house, and there he
judged Israel:  he built also there an altar to the Lord.
1 Kings Chapter 8
Samuel growing old, and his sons not walking in his ways, the people
desire a king.
8:1. And it came to pass, when Samuel was old, that he appointed his
sons to be judges over Israel.
8:2. Now the name of his firstborn son was Joel:  and the name of the
second was Abia, judges in Bersabee.
8:3. And his sons walked not in his ways:  but they turned aside after
lucre, and took bribes, and perverted judgment.
8:4. Then all the ancients of Israel being assembled came to Samuel to
8:5. And they said to him:  Behold thou art old, and thy sons walk not
in thy ways:  make us a king, to judge us, as all nations have.
8:6. And the word was displeasing in the eyes of Samuel, that they
should say:  Give us a king to judge us.  And Samuel prayed to the Lord.
8:7. And the Lord said to Samuel:  Hearken to the voice of the people in
all that they say to thee.  For they have not rejected thee, but me,
that I should not reign over them.
Rejected, etc. . .The government of Israel hitherto had been a
theocracy, in which God himself immediately ruled, by laws which he had
enacted, and by judges extraordinarily raised up by himself; and
therefore he complains that his people rejected him, in desiring a
change of government.
8:8. According to all their works, they have done from the day that I
brought them out of Egypt until this day:  as they have forsaken me, and
served strange gods, so do they also unto thee.
8:9. Now, therefore, hearken to their voice:  but yet testify to them,
and foretell them the right of the king, that shall reign over them.
The right. . .That is, the manner (misphat) after which he shall
proceed, having no one to control him, when he has the power in his
8:10. Then Samuel told all the words of the Lord to the people that had
desired a king of him,
8:11. And said:  This will be the right of the king that shall reign
over you:  He will take your sons, and put them in his chariots, and
will make them his horsemen, and his running footmen, to run before his
8:12. And he will appoint of them to be his tribunes, and his
centurions, and to plough his fields, and to reap his corn, and to make
him arms and chariots.
8:13. Your daughters also he will take to make him ointments, and to be
his cooks, and bakers.
8:14. And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your best
oliveyards, and give them to his servants.
8:15. Moreover he will take the tenth of your corn, and of the revenues
of your vineyards, to give to his eunuchs and servants.
8:16. Your servants also, and handmaids, and your goodliest young men,
and your asses, he will take away, and put them to his work.
8:17. Your flocks also he will tithe, and you shall be his servants.
8:18. And you shall cry out in that day from the face of the king, whom
you have chosen to yourselves:  and the Lord will not hear you in that
day, because you desired unto yourselves a king.
8:19. But the people would not hear the voice of Samuel, and they said,
Nay:  but there shall be a king over us,
8:20. And we also will be like all nations:  and our king shall judge
us, and go out before us, and fight our battles for us.
8:21. And Samuel heard all the words of the people, and rehearsed them
in the ears of the Lord.
8:22. And the Lord said to Samuel:  Hearken to their voice, and make
them a king.  And Samuel said to the men of Israel:  Let every man go to
1 Kings Chapter 9
Saul seeking his father's asses, cometh to Samuel, by whom he is
entertained.
9:1. Now there was a man of Benjamin, whose name was Cis, the son of
Abiel, the son of Seror, the son of Bechorath, the son of Aphia, the
son of a man of Jemini, valiant and strong.
9:2. And he had a son whose name was Saul, a choice and goodly man, and
there was not among the children of Israel a goodlier person than he:
from his shoulders and upward he appeared above all the people.
9:3. And the asses of Cis, Saul's father, were lost:  and Cis said to
his son Saul:  Take one of the servants with thee, and arise, go, and
seek the asses.  And when they had passed through Mount Ephraim,
9:4. And through the land of Salisa, and had not found them, they
passed also through the land of Salim, and they were not there:  and
through the land of Jemini, and found them not.
9:5. And when they were come to the land of Suph, Saul said to the
servant that was with him:  Come, let us return, lest perhaps my father
forget the asses, and be concerned for us.
9:6. And he said to him:  Behold there is a man of God in this city, a
famous man:  all that he saith, cometh certainly to pass.  Now,
therefore, let us go thither, perhaps he may tell us of our way, for
which we are come.
9:7. And Saul said to his servant:  Behold we will go:  but what shall we
carry to the man of God?  the bread is spent in our bags:  and we have no
present to make to the man of God, nor any thing at all.
9:8. The servant answered Saul again, and said:  Behold there is found
in my hand the fourth part of a sicle of silver, let us give it to the
man of God, that he may tell us our way.
9:9. Now in time past in Israel, when a man went to consult God, he
spoke thus:  Come, let us go to the seer.  For he that is now called a
prophet, in time past was called a seer.
Seer. . .Because of his seeing by divine light hidden things and things
9:10. And Saul said to his servant:  Thy word is very good, come let us
go.  And they went into the city, where the man of God was.
9:11. And when they went up the ascent to the city, they found maids
coming out to draw water, and they said to them:  Is the seer here?
9:12. They answered and said to them:  He is:  behold he is before you,
make haste now:  for he came to day into the city, for there is a
sacrifice of the people to day in the high place.
A sacrifice. . .The law did not allow of sacrifices in any other place,
but at the tabernacle, or temple, in which the ark of the covenant was
kept; but Samuel, by divine dispensation, offered sacrifices in other
places.  For which dispensation this reason may be alleged, that the
house of God in Silo, having lost the ark, was now cast off; as a
figure of the reprobation of the Jews, Ps. 77.60, 67.  And in
Cariathiarim where the ark was, there was neither tabernacle, nor
altar.--Ibid.  The high place. . .Excelsum.  The excelsa, or high places,
so often mentioned in scripture, were places of worship, in which were
altars for sacrifice.  These were sometimes employed in the service of
the true God, as in the present case:  but more frequently in the
service of idols; and were called excelsa, which is commonly (though
perhaps not so accurately) rendered high places; not because they were
always upon hills, for the very worst of all, which was that of
Topheth, or Geennom, (Jer. 19.) was in a valley; but because of the
high altars, and pillars, or monuments, erected there, on which were
set up the idols, or images of their deities.
9:13. As soon as you come into the city, you shall immediately find
him, before he go up to the high place to eat:  for the people will not
eat till he come; because he blesseth the victim, and afterwards they
eat that are invited.  Now, therefore, go up, for to day you shall find
9:14. And they went up into the city.  And when they were walking in the
midst of the city, behold Samuel was coming out over against them, to
go up to the high place.
9:15. Now the Lord had revealed to the ear of Samuel the day before
Saul came, saying:
9:16. To morrow about this same hour I will send thee a man of the land
of Benjamin, and thou shalt anoint him to be ruler over my people
Israel:  and he shall save my people out of the hand of the Philistines:
for I have looked down upon my people, because their cry is come to me.
9:17. And when Samuel saw Saul, the Lord said to him:  Behold the man,
of whom I spoke to thee, this man shall reign over my people.
9:18. And Saul came to Samuel in the midst of the gate, and said:  Tell
me, I pray thee, where is the house of the seer?
9:19. And Samuel answered Saul, saying:  I am the seer; go up before me
to the high place, that you may eat with me to day, and I will let thee
go in the morning:  and tell thee all that is in thy heart.
9:20. And as for the asses, which were lost three days ago, be not
solicitous, because they are found.  And for whom shall be all the best
things of Israel?  Shall they not be for thee and for all thy father's
9:21. And Saul answering, said:  Am not I a son of Jemini of the least
tribe of Israel, and my kindred the last among all the families of the
tribe of Benjamin?  Why then hast thou spoken this word to me?
9:22. Then Samuel taking Saul, and his servant, brought them into the
parlour, and gave them a place at the head of them that were invited.
For there were about thirty men.
9:23. And Samuel said to the cook:  Bring the portion which I gave thee,
and commanded thee to set it apart by thee.
9:24. And the cook took up the shoulder, and set it before Saul.  And
Samuel said:  Behold what is left, set it before thee, and eat; because
it was kept of purpose for thee, when I invited the people.  And Saul
ate with Samuel that day.
9:25. And they went down from the high place into the town, and he
spoke with Saul upon the top of the house:  and he prepared a bed for
Saul on the top of the house and he slept.
9:26. And when they were risen in the morning, and it began now to be
light, Samuel called Saul on the top of the house, saying:  Arise, that
I may let thee go.  And Saul arose:  and they went out both of them:  to
wit, he and Samuel.
9:27. And as they were going down in the end of the city, Samuel said
to Saul:  Speak to the servant to go before us, and pass on:  but stand
thou still a while, that I may tell thee the word of the Lord.
1 Kings Chapter 10
Saul is anointed.  He prophesieth, and is changed into another man.
Samuel calleth the people together, to make a king:  the lot falleth on
10:1. And Samuel took a little vial of oil, and poured it upon his
head, and kissed him, and said:  Behold, the Lord hath anointed thee to
be prince over his inheritance, and thou shalt deliver his people out
of the hands of their enemies, that are round about them.  And this
shall be a sign unto thee, that God hath anointed thee to be prince.
10:2. When thou shalt depart from me this day, thou shalt find two men
by the sepulchre of Rachel in the borders of Benjamin to the south, and
they shall say to thee:  The asses are found which thou wentest to seek:
and thy father, thinking no more of the asses, is concerned for you,
and saith:  What shall I do for my son?
10:3. And when thou shalt depart from thence, and go farther on, and
shalt come to the oak of Thabor, there shall meet thee three men going
up to God to Bethel, one carrying three kids, and another three loaves
of bread, and another carrying a bottle of wine.
Bethel. . .Where there was at that time an altar of God; it being one of
the places where Samuel judged Israel.
10:4. And they will salute thee, and will give thee two loaves, and
thou shalt take them at their hand.
10:5. After that thou shalt come to the hill of God, where the garrison
of the Philistines is:  and when thou shalt be come there into the city,
thou shalt meet a company of prophets coming down from the high place,
with a psaltery, and a timbrel, and a pipe, and a harp before them, and
they shall be prophesying.
The hill of God. . .Gabaa, in which there was also at that time, a high
place or altar.--Prophets. . .These were men whose office it was to sing
hymns and praises to God; for such in holy writ are called prophets,
and their singing praises to God is called prophesying.  See 1 Par.
alias 1 Chr. 15.22, and 25.1.  Now there were in those days colleges, or
schools for training up these prophets; and it seems there was one of
these schools at this hill of God; and another at Najoth in Ramatha.
See 1 Kings 19.20, 21, etc.
10:6. And the Spirit of the Lord shall come upon thee, and thou shalt
prophesy with them, and shalt be changed into another man.
10:7. When therefore these signs shall happen to thee, do whatsoever
thy hand shall find, for the Lord is with thee.
10:8. And thou shalt go down before me to Galgal, (for I will come down
to thee), that thou mayst offer an oblation, and sacrifice victims of
peace:  seven days shalt thou wait, till I come to thee, and I will shew
thee what thou art to do.
Galgal. . .Here also by dispensation was an altar of God.
10:9. So when he had turned his back to go from Samuel, God gave unto
him another heart, and all these things came to pass that day.
10:10. And they came to the foresaid hill, and behold a company of
prophets met him:  and the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, and he
prophesied in the midst of them.
10:11. And all that had known him yesterday and the day before, seeing
that he was with the prophets, and prophesied, said to each other:  What
is this that hath happened to the son of Cis?  is Saul also among the
10:12. And one answered another, saying:  And who is their father?
therefore it became a proverb:  Is Saul also among the prophets?
Their father. . .That is, their teacher, or superior.  As much as to say,
Who could bring about such a wonderful change as to make Saul a
10:13. And when he had made an end of prophesying, he came to the high
10:14. And Saul's uncle said to him, and to his servant:  Whither went
you?  They answered:  To seek the asses:  and not finding them, we went
10:15. And his uncle said to him:  Tell me what Samuel said to thee.
10:16. And Saul said to his uncle:  He told us that the asses were
found.  But of the matter of the kingdom of which Samuel had spoken to
him, he told him not.
10:17. And Samuel called together the people to the Lord in Maspha:
10:18. And he said to the children of Israel:  Thus saith the Lord the
God of Israel:  I brought up Israel out of Egypt, and delivered you from
the hand of the Egyptians, and from the hand of all the kings who
afflicted you.
10:19. But you this day have rejected your God, who only hath saved you
out of all your evils and your tribulations:  and you have said:  Nay:
but set a king over us.  Now therefore stand before the Lord by your
tribes, and by your families.
10:20. And Samuel brought to him all the tribes of Israel, and the lot
fell on the tribe of Benjamin.
10:21. And he brought the tribe of Benjamin and the kindreds thereof,
and the lot fell upon the kindred of Metri, and it came to Saul, the
son of Cis.  They sought him therefore, and he was not found.
10:22. And after this they consulted the Lord whether he would come
thither.  And the Lord answered:  Behold he is hidden at home.
10:23. And they ran and fetched him thence:  and he stood in the midst
of the people, and he was higher than any of the people from the
shoulders and upward.
10:24. And Samuel said to all the people:  Surely you see him whom the
Lord hath chosen, that there is none like him among all the people.  And
all the people cried and said:  God save the king.
10:25. And Samuel told the people the law of the kingdom, and wrote it
in a book, and laid it up before the Lord:  and Samuel sent away all the
people, every one to his own house.
10:26. Saul also departed to his own house in Gabaa:  and there went
with him a part of the army, whose hearts God had touched.
10:27. But the children of Belial said:  Shall this fellow be able to
save us?  And they despised him, and brought him no presents; but he
dissembled as though he heard not.
1 Kings Chapter 11
Saul defeateth the Ammonites, and delivereth Jabes Galaad.
11:1. And it came to pass about a month after this, that Naas, the
Ammonite, came up, and began to fight against Jabes Galaad.  And all the
men of Jabes said to Naas:  Make a covenant with us, and we will serve
11:2. And Naas, the Ammonite, answered them:  On this condition will I
make a covenant with you, that I may pluck out all your right eyes, and
make you a reproach in all Israel.
11:3. And the ancients of Jabes said to him:  Allow us seven days, that
we may send messengers to all the coasts of Israel:  and if there be no
one to defend us, we will come out to thee.
11:4. The messengers therefore came to Gabaa of Saul:  and they spoke
these words in the hearing of the people:  and all the people lifted up
their voices, and wept.
11:5. And behold Saul came, following oxen out of the field, and he
said:  What aileth the people that they weep?  And they told him the
words of the men of Jabes.
11:6. And the Spirit of the Lord came upon Saul, when he had heard
these words, and his anger was exceedingly kindled.
11:7. And taking both the oxen, he cut them in pieces, and sent them
into all the coasts of Israel, by messengers, saying:  Whosoever shall
not come forth, and follow Saul and Samuel, so shall it be done to his
oxen.  And the fear of the Lord fell upon the people, and they went out
11:8. And he numbered them in Bezec:  and there were of the children of
Israel three hundred thousand:  and of the men of Juda thirty thousand.
11:9. And they said to the messengers that came:  Thus shall you say to
the men of Jabes Galaad:  To morrow, when the sun shall be hot, you
shall have relief.  The messengers therefore came, and told the men of
Jabes, and they were glad.
11:10. And they said:  In the morning we will come out to you:  and you
shall do what you please with us.
11:11. And it came to pass, when the morrow was come, that Saul put the
people in three companies:  and he came into the midst of the camp in
the morning watch, and he slew the Ammonites until the day grew hot,
and the rest were scattered, so that two of them were not left
11:12. And the people said to Samuel:  Who is he that said:  Shall Saul
reign over us?  Bring the men, and we will kill them.
11:13. And Saul said:  No man shall be killed this day:  because the Lord
this day hath wrought salvation in Israel:
11:14. And Samuel said to the people:  Come, and let us go to Galgal,
and let us renew the kingdom there.
11:15. And all the people went to Galgal, and there they made Saul
king, before the Lord in Galgal, and they sacrificed there victims of
peace before the Lord.  And there Saul and all the men of Israel
rejoiced exceedingly.
1 Kings Chapter 12
Samuel's integrity is acknowledged.  God sheweth by a sign from heaven
that they had done ill in asking for a king.
12:1. And Samuel said to all Israel:  Behold I have hearkened to your
voice in all that you said to me, and have made a king over you.
12:2. And now the king goeth before you:  but I am old and greyheaded:
and my sons are with you:  having then conversed with you from my youth
until this day, behold here I am.
12:3. Speak of me before the Lord, and before his anointed, whether I
have taken any man's ox, or ass:  if I have wronged any man, if I have
oppressed any man, if I have taken a bribe at any man's hand:  and I
will despise it this day, and will restore it to you.
12:4. And they said:  Thou hast not wronged us, nor oppressed us, nor
taken ought at any man's hand.
12:5. And he said to them:  The Lord is witness against you, and his
anointed is witness this day, that you have not found any thing in my
hand.  And they said:  He is witness.
12:6. And Samuel said to the people:  It is the Lord who made Moses and
Aaron, and brought our fathers out of the land of Egypt.
12:7. Now, therefore, stand up, that I may plead in judgment against
you before the Lord, concerning all the kindness of the Lord, which he
hath shewn to you, and to your fathers:
12:8. How Jacob went into Egypt, and your fathers cried to the Lord:
and the Lord sent Moses and Aaron, and brought your fathers out of
Egypt, and made them dwell in this place.
12:9. And they forgot the Lord their God, and he delivered them into
the hands of Sisara, captain of the army of Hasor, and into the hands
of the Philistines, and into the hand of the king of Moab, and they
fought against them.
12:10. But afterwards they cried to the Lord, and said:  We have sinned,
because we have forsaken the Lord, and have served Baalim and Astaroth:
but now deliver us from the hand of our enemies, and we will serve
12:11. And the Lord sent Jerobaal, and Badan, and Jephte, and Samuel,
and delivered you from the hand of your enemies round about, and you
dwelt securely.
Jerobaal and Badan. . .That is, Gedeon and Samson called here Badan or
Bedan, because he was of Dan.
12:12. But seeing that Naas, king of the children of Ammon, was come
against you, you said to me:  Nay, but a king shall reign over us:
whereas the Lord your God was your king.
12:13. Now, therefore, your king is here, whom you have chosen and
desired:  Behold the Lord hath given you a king.
12:14. If you will fear the Lord, and serve him, and hearken to his
voice, and not provoke the mouth of the Lord:  then shall both you, and
the king who reigneth over you, be followers of the Lord your God.
12:15. But if you will not hearken to the voice of the Lord, but will
rebel against his words, the hand of the Lord shall be upon you, and
upon your fathers.
12:16. Now then stand, and see this great thing which the Lord will do
in your sight.
12:17. Is it not wheat harvest to day?  I will call upon the Lord, and
he shall send thunder and rain:  and you shall know, and see that you
yourselves have done a great evil in the sight of the Lord, in desiring
a king over you.
Wheat harvest. . .At which time of the year, it never thunders or rains
in those countries.
12:18. And Samuel cried unto the Lord, and the Lord sent thunder and
rain that day.
12:19. And all the people greatly feared the Lord and Samuel.  And all
the people said to Samuel:  Pray for thy servants to the Lord thy God,
that we may not die, for we have added to all our sins this evil, to
ask for a king.
12:20. And Samuel said to the people:  Fear not, you have done all this
evil:  but yet depart not from following the Lord, but serve the Lord
with all your heart.
12:21. And turn not aside after vain things, which shall never profit
you, nor deliver you, because they are vain.
12:22. And the Lord will not forsake his people for his great name's
sake:  because the Lord hath sworn to make you his people.
12:23. And far from me be this sin against the Lord, that I should
cease to pray for you:  and I will teach you the good and right way.
12:24. Therefore fear the Lord, and serve him in truth, and with your
whole heart, for you have seen the great works which he hath done among
12:25. But if you will still do wickedly:  both you and your king shall
perish together.
1 Kings Chapter 13
The war between Saul and the Philistines.  The distress of the
Israelites.  Saul offereth sacrifice before the coming of Samuel:  for
which he is reproved.
13:1. Saul was a child of one year when he began to reign, and he
reigned two years over Israel.
Of one year. . .That is, he was good and like an innocent child, and for
two years continued in that innocency.
13:2. And Saul chose him three thousand men of Israel:  and two thousand
were with Saul in Machmas, and in mount Bethel:  and a thousand with
Jonathan in Gabaa of Benjamin:  and the rest of the people he sent back
every man to their dwellings.
13:3. And Jonathan smote the garrison of the Philistines which was in
Gabaa.  And when the Philistines had heard of it, Saul sounded the
trumpet over all the land, saying:  Let the Hebrews hear.
13:4. And all Israel heard this report:  Saul hath smitten the garrison
of the Philistines:  and Israel took courage against the Philistines.
And the people were called together after Saul to Galgal.
13:5. The Philistines also were assembled to fight against Israel,
thirty thousand chariots, and six thousand horsemen, and a multitude of
people besides, like the sand on the seashore for number.  And going up
they camped in Machmas, at the east of Bethaven.
13:6. And when the men of Israel saw that they were straitened (for the
people were distressed), they hid themselves in caves, and in thickets,
and in rocks, and in dens, and in pits.
13:7. And some of the Hebrews passed over the Jordan into the land of
Gad and Galaad.  And when Saul was yet in Galgal, all the people that
followed him were greatly afraid.
13:8. And he waited seven days, according to the appointment of Samuel,
and Samuel came not to Galgal, and the people slipt away from him.
13:9. Then Saul said:  Bring me the holocaust, and the peace offerings.
And he offered the holocaust.
13:10. And when he had made an end of offering the holocaust, behold
Samuel came:  and Saul went forth to meet him and salute him.
13:11. And Samuel said to him:  What hast thou done?  Saul answered:
Because I saw that the people slipt from me, and thou wast not come
according to the days appointed, and the Philistines were gathered
together in Machmas,
13:12. I said:  Now will the Philistines come down upon me to Galgal,
and I have not appeased the face of the Lord.  Forced by necessity, I
offered the holocaust.
13:13. And Samuel said to Saul:  Thou hast done foolishly, and hast not
kept the commandments of the Lord thy God, which he commanded thee.  And
if thou hadst not done thus, the Lord would now have established thy
kingdom over Israel for ever:
13:14. But thy kingdom shall not continue.  The Lord hath sought him a
man according to his own heart:  and him hath the Lord commanded to be
prince over his people, because thou hast not observed that which the
Lord commanded.
13:15. And Samuel arose and went up from Galgal to Gabaa of Benjamin.
And the rest of the people went up after Saul, to meet the people who
fought against them, going from Galgal to Gabaa, in the hill of
Benjamin.  And Saul numbered the people, that were found with him, about
six hundred men.
13:16. And Saul, and Jonathan his son, and the people that were present
with them, were in Gabaa of Benjamin:  But the Philistines encamped in
13:17. And there went out of the camp of the Philistines three
companies to plunder.  One company went towards the way of Ephra to the
land of Sual;
13:18. And another went by the way of Bethoron, and the third turned to
the way of the border, above the valley of Seboim towards the desert.
13:19. Now there was no smith to be found in all the land of Israel,
for the Philistines had taken this precaution, lest the Hebrews should
make them swords or spears.
13:20. So all Israel went down to the Philistines, to sharpen every man
his ploughshare, and his spade, and his axe, and his rake.
13:21. So that their shares, and their spades, and their forks, and
their axes, were blunt, even to the goad, which was to be mended.
13:22. And when the day of battle was come, there was neither sword nor
spear found in the hand of any of the people that were with Saul and
Jonathan, except Saul and Jonathan his son.
13:23. And the army of the Philistines went out in order to advance
further in Machmas.
1 Kings Chapter 14
Jonathan attacketh the Philistines.  A miraculous victory.  Saul's
unadvised oath, by which Jonathan is put in danger of his life, but is
delivered by the people.
14:1. Now it came to pass one day that Jonathan, the son of Saul, said
to the young man that bore his armour:  Come, and let us go over to the
garrison of the Philistines, which is on the other side of yonder
place.  But he told not this to his father.
14:2. And Saul abode in the uttermost part of Gabaa, under the
pomegranate tree, which was in Magron:  and the people with him were
about six hundred men.
14:3. And Achias, the son of Achitob, brother of Ichabod the son of
Phinees, the son of Heli, the priest of the Lord in Silo, wore the
ephod.  And the people knew not whither Jonathan was gone.
14:4. Now there were between the ascents, by which Jonathan sought to
go over to the garrison of the Philistines, rocks standing up on both
sides, and steep cliffs like teeth on the one side, and on the other,
the name of the one was Boses, and the name of the other was Sene:
14:5. One rock stood out toward the north, over against Machmas, and
the other to the south, over against Gabaa.
14:6. And Jonathan said to the young man that bore his armour:  Come,
let us go over to the garrison of these uncircumcised, it may be the
Lord will do for us:  because it is easy for the Lord to save either by
many, or by few.
14:7. And his armourbearer said to him:  Do all that pleaseth thy mind:
go whither thou wilt, and I will be with thee wheresoever thou hast a
14:8. And Jonathan said:  Behold we will go over to these men.  And when
we shall be seen by them,
14:9. If they shall speak thus to us:  Stay till we come to you:  let us
stand still in our place, and not go up to them.
14:10. But if they shall say:  Come up to us:  let us go up, because the
Lord hath delivered them into our hands, this shall be a sign unto us.
This shall be a sign. . .It is likely Jonathan was instructed by divine
inspiration to make a choice of this sign:  otherwise the observation of
omens is superstitious and sinful.
14:11. So both of them discovered themselves to the garrison of the
Philistines:  and the Philistines said:  Behold the Hebrews come forth
out of the holes wherein they were hid.
14:12. And the men of the garrison spoke to Jonathan, and to his
armourbearer, and said:  Come up to us, and we will shew you a thing.
And Jonathan said to his armourbearer:  Let us go up, follow me:  for the
Lord hath delivered them into the hands of Israel.
14:13. And Jonathan went up creeping on his hands and feet, and his
armourbearer after him.  And some fell before Jonathan, others his
armourbearer slew as he followed him.
14:14. And the first slaughter which Jonathan and his armourbearer
made, was of about twenty men, within half an acre of land, which a
yoke of oxen is wont to plough in a day.
14:15. And there was a miracle in the camp, in the fields:  and all the
people of their garrison, who had gone out to plunder, were amazed, and
the earth trembled:  and it happened as a miracle from God.
14:16. And the watchmen of Saul, who were in Gabaa of Benjamin looked,
and behold a multitude overthrown, and fleeing this way and that.
14:17. And Saul said to the people that were with him:  Look, and see
who is gone from us.  And when they had sought, it was found that
Jonathan and his armourbearer were not there.
14:18. And Saul said to Achias:  Bring the ark of the Lord.  (For the ark
of God was there that day with the children of Israel.)
14:19. And while Saul spoke to the priest, there arose a great uproar
in the camp of the Philistines:  and it increased by degrees, and was
heard more clearly.  And Saul said to the priest:  Draw in thy hand.
14:20. Then Saul, and all the people that were with him, shouted
together, and they came to the place of the fight:  and behold every
man's sword was turned upon his neighbour, and there was a very great
14:21. Moreover, the Hebrews that had been with the Philistines
yesterday and the day before, and went up with them into the camp,
returned to be with the Israelites, who were with Saul and Jonathan.
14:22. And all the Israelites that had hid themselves in mount Ephraim,
hearing that the Philistines fled, joined themselves with their
countrymen in the fight.  And there were with Saul about ten thousand
14:23. And the Lord saved Israel that day.  And the fight went on as far
as Bethaven.
14:24. And the men of Israel were joined together that day:  and Saul
adjured the people, saying:  Cursed be the man that shall eat food till
evening, till I be revenged of my enemies.  So none of the people tasted
14:25. And all the common people came into a forest, in which there was
honey upon the ground.
14:26. And when the people came into the forest, behold the honey
dropped, but no man put his hand to his mouth.  For the people feared
14:27. But Jonathan had not heard when his father adjured the people:
and he put forth the end of the rod, which he had in his hand, and dipt
it in a honeycomb:  and he carried his hand to his mouth, and his eyes
were enlightened.
14:28. And one of the people answering, said:  Thy father hath bound the
people with an oath, saying:  Cursed be the man that shall eat any food
this day.  (And the people were faint.)
14:29. And Jonathan said:  My father hath troubled the land:  you have
seen yourselves that my eyes are enlightened, because I tasted a little
of this honey:
14:30. How much more if the people had eaten of the prey of their
enemies, which they found?  had there not been made a greater slaughter
among the Philistines?
14:31. So they smote that day the Philistines, from Machmas to Aialon.
And the people were wearied exceedingly.
14:32. And falling upon the spoils, they took sheep, and oxen, and
calves, and slew them on the ground:  and the people ate them with the
14:33. And they told Saul that the people had sinned against the Lord,
eating with the blood.  And he said:  You have transgressed:  roll here
to me now a great stone.
14:34. And Saul said:  Disperse yourselves among the people, and tell
them to bring me every man his ox and his ram and slay them upon this
stone, and eat, and you shall not sin against the Lord, in eating with
the blood.  So all the people brought every man his ox with him till the
night:  and slew them there.
14:35. And Saul built an altar to the Lord:  and he then first began to
build an altar to the Lord.
14:36. And Saul said:  Let us fall upon the Philistines by night, and
destroy them till the morning light, and let us not leave a man of
them.  And the people said:  Do all that seemeth good in thy eyes.  And
the priest said:  Let us draw near hither unto God.
14:37. And Saul consulted the Lord:  Shall I pursue after the
Philistines?  wilt thou deliver them into the hands of Israel?  And he
answered him not that day.
14:38. And Saul said:  Bring hither all the corners of the people:  and
know, and see by whom this sin hath happened to day.
14:39. As the Lord liveth, who is the Saviour of Israel, if it was done
by Jonathan, my son, he shall surely die.  In this none of the people
gainsayed him.
14:40. And he said to all Israel:  Be you on one side and I, with
Jonathan, my son, will be on the other side.  And the people answered
Saul:  Do what seemeth good in thy eyes.
14:41. And Saul said to the Lord:  O Lord God of Israel, give a sign, by
which we may know, what the meaning is, that thou answerest not thy
servant to day:  If this iniquity be in me, or in my son Jonathan, give
a proof:  or if this iniquity be in thy people, give holiness.  And
Jonathan and Saul were taken, and the people escaped.
14:42. And Saul said:  (Cast lots between me, and Jonathan, my son.  And
Jonathan was taken.
Jonathan was taken. . .Though Jonathan was excused from sin, through
ignorance of the prohibition, yet God was pleased on this occasion to
let the lot fall upon him, to shew unto all the great obligation of
obedience to princes and parents.
14:43. And Saul said to Jonathan:  Tell me what thou hast done.  And
Jonathan told him, and said:  I did but taste a little honey with the
end of the rod, which was in my hand, and behold I must die.
14:44. And Saul said:  May God do so and so to me, and add still more:
for dying thou shalt die, O Jonathan.
14:45. And the people said to Saul:  Shall Jonathan then die, who hath
wrought this great salvation in Israel?  this must not be:  As the Lord
liveth, there shall not one hair of his head fall to the ground, for he
hath wrought with God this day.  So the people delivered Jonathan, that
he should not die.
14:46. And Saul went back, and did not pursue after the Philistines:
and the Philistines went to their own places.
14:47. And Saul having his kingdom established over Israel, fought
against all his enemies round about, against Moab, and against the
children of Ammon, and Edom, and the kings of Soba, and the
Philistines:  and whithersoever he turned himself, he overcame.
14:48. And gathering together an army, he defeated Amalec, and
delivered Israel from the hand of them that spoiled them.
14:49. And the sons of Saul, were Jonathan, and Jessui, and Melchisua:
and the names of his two daughters, the name of the firstborn was
Merob, and the name of the younger Michol.
14:50. And the name of Saul's wife was Achinoam, the daughter of
Achimaas; and the name of the captain of his army was Abner, the son of
Ner, the cousin german of Saul.
14:51. For Cis was the father of Saul, and Ner, the father of Abner,
was son of Abiel.
14:52. And there was a great war against the Philistines all the days
of Saul.  For whomsoever Saul saw to be a valiant man, and fit for war,
he took him to himself.
1 Kings Chapter 15
Saul is sent to destroy Amalec:  he spareth their king and the best of
their cattle:  for which disobedience he is cast off by the Lord.
15:1. And Samuel said to Saul:  The Lord sent me to anoint thee king
over his people Israel:  now therefore hearken thou unto the voice of
15:2. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  I have reckoned up all that Amalec
hath done to Israel:  how he opposed them in the way when they came up
out of Egypt.
15:3. Now therefore go, and smite Amalec, and utterly destroy all that
he hath:  spare him not, nor covet anything that is his:  but slay both
man and woman, child and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass.
Child. . .The great Master of life and death (who cuts off one half of
all mankind whilst they are children) has been pleased sometimes to
ordain that children should be put to the sword, in detestation of the
crimes of their parents, and that they might not live to follow the
same wicked ways.  But without such ordinance of God it is not
allowable, in any wars, how just soever, to kill children.
15:4. So Saul commanded the people, and numbered them as lambs:  two
hundred thousand footmen, and ten thousand of the men of Juda.
15:5. And when Saul was come to the city of Amalec, he laid ambushes in
the torrent.
15:6. And Saul said to the Cinite:  Go, depart, and get ye down from
Amalec:  lest I destroy thee with him.  For thou hast shewn kindness to
all the children of Israel, when they came up out of Egypt.  And the
Cinite departed from the midst of Amalec.
15:7. And Saul smote Amalec from Hevila, until thou comest to Sur,
which is over against Egypt.
15:8. And he took Agag, the king of Amalec, alive:  but all the common
people he slew with the edge of the sword.
15:9. And Saul and the people spared Agag, and the best of the flocks
of sheep, and of the herds, and the garments and the rams, and all that
was beautiful, and would not destroy them:  but every thing that was
vile, and good for nothing, that they destroyed.
15:10. And the word of the Lord came to Samuel,
15:11. It repenteth me that I have made Saul king:  for he hath forsaken
me, and hath not executed my commandments.  And Samuel was grieved, and
he cried unto the Lord all night.
15:12. And when Samuel rose early, to go to Saul in the morning, it was
told Samuel that Saul was come to Carmel, and had erected for himself a
triumphant arch, and returning had passed on, and gone down to Galgal.
And Samuel came to Saul, and Saul was offering a holocaust to the Lord,
out of the choicest of the spoils, which he had brought from Amalec.
15:13. And when Samuel was come to Saul, Saul said to him:  Blessed be
thou of the Lord, I have fulfilled the word of the Lord.
15:14. And Samuel said:  What meaneth then this bleating of the flocks,
which soundeth in my ears, and the lowing of the herds, which I hear?
15:15. And Saul said:  They have brought them from Amalec:  for the
people spared the best of the sheep and of the herds, that they might
be sacrificed to the Lord thy God, but the rest we have slain.
15:16. And Samuel said to Saul:  Suffer me, and I will tell thee what
the Lord hath said to me this night.  And he said to him:  Speak.
15:17. And Samuel said:  When thou wast a little one in thy own eyes,
wast thou not made the head of the tribes of Israel?  And the Lord
anointed thee to be king over Israel.
15:18. And the Lord sent thee on the way, and said:  Go, and kill the
sinners of Amalec, and thou shalt fight against them until thou hast
utterly destroyed them.
15:19. Why then didst thou not hearken to the voice of the Lord:  but
hast turned to the prey, and hast done evil in the eyes of the Lord?
15:20. And Saul said to Samuel:  Yea, I have hearkened to the voice of
the Lord, and have walked in the way by which the Lord sent me, and
have brought Agag, the king of Amalec, and Amalec I have slain.
15:21. But the people took of the spoils, sheep and oxen, as the
firstfruits of those things that were slain, to offer sacrifice to the
Lord their God in Galgal.
15:22. And Samuel said:  Doth the Lord desire holocausts and victims,
and not rather that the voice of the Lord should be obeyed?  For
obedience is better than sacrifices:  and to hearken rather than to
offer the fat or rams.
15:23. Because it is like the sin of witchcraft, to rebel:  and like the
crime of idolatry, to refuse to obey.  Forasmuch, therefore, as thou
hast rejected the word of the Lord, the Lord hath also rejected thee
from being king.
15:24. And Saul said to Samuel:  I have sinned, because I have
transgressed the commandment of the Lord, and thy words, fearing the
people, and obeying their voice.
15:25. But now bear, I beseech thee, my sin, and return with me, that I
may adore the Lord.
15:26. And Samuel said to Saul:  I will not return with thee, because
thou hath rejected the word of the Lord, and the Lord hath rejected
thee from being king over Israel.
15:27. And Samuel turned about to go away:  but he laid hold upon the
skirt of his mantle, and it rent.
15:28. And Samuel said to him:  The Lord hath rent the kingdom of Israel
from thee this day, and hath given it to thy neighbour who is better
15:29. But the triumpher in Israel will not spare, and will not be
moved to repentance:  for he is not a man that he should repent.
15:30. Then he said:  I have sinned:  yet honour me now before the
ancients of my people, and before Israel, and return with me, that I
may adore the Lord thy God.
15:31. So Samuel turned again after Saul:  and Saul adored the Lord.
15:32. And Samuel said:  Bring hither to me Agag, the king of Amalec.
And Agag was presented to him very fat, and trembling.  And Agag said:
Doth bitter death separate in this manner?
15:33. And Samuel said:  As thy sword hath made women childless, so
shall thy mother be childless among women.  And Samuel hewed him in
pieces before the Lord in Galgal.
15:34. And Samuel departed to Ramatha:  but Saul went up to his house in
15:35. And Samuel saw Saul no more till the day of his death:
nevertheless, Samuel mourned for Saul, because the Lord repented that
he had made him king over Israel.
Saw Saul no more till the day of his death. . .That is, he went no more
to see him:  he visited him no more.
1 Kings Chapter 16
Samuel is sent to Bethlehem, where he anointeth David:  who is taken
into Saul's family.
16:1. And the Lord said to Samuel:  How long wilt thou mourn for Saul,
whom I have rejected from reigning over Israel?  fill thy horn with oil,
and come, that I may send thee to Isai, the Bethlehemite:  for I have
provided me a king among his sons.
16:2. And Samuel said:  How shall I go?  for Saul will hear of it, and he
will kill me.  And the Lord said:  Thou shalt take with thee a calf of
the herd, and thou shalt say:  I am come to sacrifice to the Lord.
16:3. And thou shalt call Isai to the sacrifice, and I will shew thee
what thou art to do, and thou shalt anoint him whom I shall shew to
16:4. Then Samuel did as the Lord had said to him.  And he came to
Bethlehem, and the ancients of the city wondered, and meeting him, they
said:  Is thy coming hither peaceable?
16:5. And he said:  It is peaceable:  I am come to offer sacrifice to the
Lord, be ye sanctified, and come with me to the sacrifice.  And he
sanctified Isai and his sons, and called them to the sacrifice.
16:6. And when they were come in, he saw Eliab, and said:  Is the Lord's
anointed before him?
16:7. And the Lord said to Samuel:  Look not on his countenance, nor on
the height of his stature:  because I have rejected him, nor do I judge
according to the look of man:  for man seeth those things that appear,
but the Lord beholdeth the heart.
16:8. And Isai called Abinadab, and brought him before Samuel.  And he
said:  Neither hath the Lord chosen this,
16:9. And Isai brought Samma, and he said of him:  Neither hath the Lord
chosen this.
16:10. Isai therefore brought his seven sons before Samuel:  and Samuel
said to Isai:  The Lord hath not chosen any one of these.
16:11. And Samuel said to Isai:  Are here all thy sons?  He answered:
There remaineth yet a young one, who keepeth the sheep.  And Samuel said
to Isai:  Send, and fetch him:  for we will not sit down till he come
16:12. He sent therefore and brought him.  Now he was ruddy and
beautiful to behold, and of a comely face.  And the Lord said:  Arise,
and anoint him, for this is he.
16:13. Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the midst
of his brethren:  and the Spirit of the Lord came upon David from that
day forward:  and Samuel rose up, and went to Ramatha.
16:14. But the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and an evil
spirit from the Lord troubled him.
From the Lord. . .An evil spirit, by divine permission, and for his
punishment, either possessed or obsessed him.
16:15. And the servants of Saul said to him:  Behold now an evil spirit
from God troubleth thee.
16:16. Let our lord give orders, and thy servants who are before thee,
will seek out a man skilful in playing on the harp, that when the evil
spirit from the Lord is upon thee, he may play with his hand, and thou
mayst bear it more easily.
16:17. And Saul said to his servants:  Provide me then some man that can
play well, and bring him to me.
16:18. And one of the servants answering, said:  Behold I have seen a
son of Isai, the Bethlehemite, a skilful player, and one of great
strength, and a man fit for war, and prudent in his words, and a comely
person:  and the Lord is with him.
16:19. Then Saul sent messengers to Isai, saying:  Send me David, thy
son, who is in the pastures.
16:20. And Isai took an ass laden with bread, and a bottle of wine, and
a kid of the flock, and sent them by the hand of David, his son, to
16:21. And David came to Saul, and stood before him:  and he loved him
exceedingly, and made him his armourbearer.
16:22. And Saul sent to Isai, saying:  Let David stand before me:  for he
hath found favour in my sight.
16:23. So whensoever the evil spirit from the Lord was upon Saul, David
took his harp, and played with his hand, and Saul was refreshed, and
was better, for the evil spirit departed from him.
Departed from him. . .Chased away by David's devotion.
1 Kings Chapter 17
War with the Philistines.  Goliath challengeth Israel.  He is slain by
17:1. Now the Philistines gathering together their troops to battle,
assembled at Socho of Juda:  and camped between Socho and Azeca, in the
borders of Dommim.
17:2. And Saul and the children of Israel being gathered together, came
to the valley of Terebinth, and they set the army in array to fight
against the Philistines.
17:3. And the Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and
Israel stood on a mountain on the other side:  and there was a valley
between them.
17:4. And there went out a man baseborn from the camp of the
Philistines, named Goliath, of Geth, whose height was six cubits and a
17:5. And he had a helmet of brass upon his head, and he was clothed
with a coat of mail with scales, and the weight of his coat of mail was
five thousand sicles of brass:
17:6. And he had greaves of brass on his legs, and a buckler of brass
covered his shoulders.
17:7. And the staff of his spear was like a weaver's beam, and the head
of his spear weighed six hundred sicles of iron:  and his armourbearer
went before him.
17:8. And standing, he cried out to the bands of Israel, and said to
them:  Why are you come out prepared to fight?  am not I a Philistine,
and you the servants of Saul?  Choose out a man of you, and let him come
down and fight hand to hand.
17:9. If he be able to fight with me, and kill me, we will be servants
to you:  but if I prevail against him, and kill him, you shall be
servants, and shall serve us.
17:10. And the Philistine said:  I have defied the bands of Israel this
day:  give me a man, and let him fight with me hand to hand.
17:11. And Saul and all the Israelites hearing these words of the
Philistine, were dismayed, and greatly afraid.
17:12. Now David was the son of that Ephrathite, of Bethlehem Juda,
before mentioned, whose name was Isai, who had eight sons, and was an
old man in the days of Saul, and of great age among men.
17:13. And his three eldest sons followed Saul to the battle:  and the
names of his three sons that went to the battle, were Eliab, the
firstborn, and the second, Abinadab, and the third Samma:
17:14. But David was the youngest.  So the three eldest having followed
17:15. David went, and returned from Saul, to feed his father's flock
at Bethlehem.
17:16. Now the Philistine came out morning and evening, and presented
himself forty days.
17:17. And Isai said to David, his son:  Take for thy brethren an ephi
of frumenty, and these ten loaves, and run to the camp to thy brethren,
17:18. And carry these ten little cheeses to the tribune:  and go see
thy brethren, if they are well:  and learn with whom they are placed.
17:19. But Saul, and they, and all the children of Israel, were in the
valley of Terebinth, fighting against the Philistines.
17:20. David, therefore, arose in the morning, and gave the charge of
the flock to the keeper:  and went away loaded, as Isai had commanded
him.  And he came to the place of Magala, and to the army, which was
going out to fight, and shouted for the battle.
17:21. For Israel had put themselves in array, and the Philistines who
stood against them were prepared.
17:22. And David leaving the vessels which he had brought, under the
care of the keeper of the baggage, ran to the place of the battle, and
asked if all things went well with his brethren.
17:23. And as he talked with them, that baseborn man, whose name was
Goliath, the Philistine, of Geth, shewed himself coming up from the
camp of the Philistines:  and he spoke according to the same words, and
David heard them,
17:24. And all the Israelites, when they saw the man, fled from his
face, fearing him exceedingly.
17:25. And some one of Israel said:  Have you seen this man that is come
up, for he is come up to defy Israel.  And the man that shall slay him,
the king will enrich with great riches, and will give him his daughter,
and will make his father's house free from tribute in Israel.
17:26. And David spoke to the men that stood by him, saying:  What shall
be given to the man that shall kill this Philistine, and shall take
away the reproach from Israel?  for who is this uncircumcised
Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?
17:27. And the people answered him the same words, saying:  These things
shall be given to the man that shall slay him.
17:28. Now when Eliab his eldest brother heard this, when he was
speaking with others, he was angry with David, and said:  Why camest
thou hither?  and why didst thou leave those few sheep in the desert?  I
know thy pride, and the wickedness of thy heart:  that thou art come
down to see the battle.
17:29. And David said:  What have I done?  is there not cause to speak?
17:30. And he turned a little aside from him to another:  and said the
same word.  And the people answered him as before.
17:31. And the words which David spoke were heard, and were rehearsed
before Saul.
17:32. And when he was brought to Saul, he said to him.  Let not any
man's heart be dismayed in him:  I thy servant will go, and will fight
against the Philistine.
17:33. And Saul said to David:  Thou art not able to withstand this
Philistine, nor to fight against him:  for thou art but a boy, but he is
a warrior from his youth.
17:34. And David said to Saul:  Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and
there came a lion, or a bear, and took a ram out of the midst of the
17:35. And I pursued after them, and struck them, and delivered it out
of their mouth:  and they rose up against me, and I caught them by the
throat, and I strangled, and killed them.
17:36. For I thy servant have killed both a lion and a bear:  and this
uncircumcised Philistine shall be also as one of them.  I will go now,
and take away the reproach of the people:  for who is this uncircumcised
Philistine, who hath dared to curse the army of the living God?
17:37. And David said:  The Lord who delivered me out of the paw of the
lion, and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the
hand of this Philistine.  And Saul said to David:  Go, and the Lord be
17:38. And Saul clothed David with his garments, and put a helmet of
brass upon his head, and armed him with a coat of mail.
17:39. And David having girded his sword upon his armour, began to try
if he could walk in armour:  for he was not accustomed to it.  And David
said to Saul:  I cannot go thus, for I am not used to it.  And he laid
17:40. And he took his staff, which he had always in his hands:  and
chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them into the
shepherd's scrip, which he had with him, and he took a sling in his
hand, and went forth against the Philistine.
17:41. And the Philistine came on, and drew nigh against David, and his
armourbearer went before him.
17:42. And when the Philistine looked, and beheld David, he despised
him.  For he was a young man, ruddy, and of a comely countenance.
17:43. And the Philistine said to David:  Am I a dog, that thou comest
to me with a staff?  And the Philistine cursed David by his gods.
17:44. And he said to David:  Come to me, and I will give thy flesh to
the birds of the air, and to the beasts of the earth.
17:45. And David said to the Philistine:  Thou comest to me with a
sword, and with a spear, and with a shield:  but I come to thee in the
name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, which thou
17:46. This day, and the Lord will deliver thee into my hand, and I
will slay thee, and take away thy head from thee:  and I will give the
carcasses of the army of the Philistines this day to the birds of the
air, and to the beasts of the earth:  that all the earth may know that
there is a God in Israel.
17:47. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not with
sword and spear:  for it is his battle, and he will deliver you into our
17:48. And when the Philistine arose, and was coming, and drew nigh to
meet David, David made haste, and ran to the fight to meet the
17:49. And he put his hand into his scrip, and took a stone, and cast
it with the sling, and fetching it about, struck the Philistine in the
forehead, and he fell on his face upon the earth.
17:50. And David prevailed over the Philistine, with a sling and a
stone, and he struck, and slew the Philistine.  And as David had no
sword in his hand,
17:51. He ran, and stood over the Philistine, and took his sword, and
drew it out of the sheath, and slew him, and cut off his head.  And the
Philistines seeing that their champion was dead, fled away.
17:52. And the men of Israel and Juda rising up shouted, and pursued
after the Philistines till they came to the valley and to the gates of
Accaron, and there fell many wounded of the Philistines in the way of
Saraim, and as far as Geth, and as far as Accaron.
17:53. And the children of Israel returning, after they had pursued the
Philistines, fell upon their camp.
17:54. And David taking the head of the Philistine, brought it to
Jerusalem:  but his armour he put in his tent.
17:55. Now at the time that Saul saw David going out against the
Philistines, he said to Abner, the captain of the army:  Of what family
is this young man descended, Abner?  And Abner said:  As thy soul liveth,
O king, I know not.
17:56. And the king said:  Inquire thou, whose son this young man is.
17:57. And when David was returned, after the Philistine was slain,
Abner took him, and brought him in before Saul, with the head of the
Philistine in his hand.
17:58. And Saul said to him:  Young man, of what family art thou?  And
David said:  I am the son of thy servant Isai the Bethlehemite.
1 Kings Chapter 18
The friendship of Jonathan and David.  The envy of Saul, and his design
upon David's life.  He marrieth him to his daughter Michol.
18:1. And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking to Saul,
the son of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved
him as his own soul.
18:2. And Saul took him that day, and would not let him return to his
father's house.
18:3. And David and Jonathan made a covenant, for he loved him as his
18:4. And Jonathan stripped himself of the coat with which he was
clothed, and gave it to David, and the rest of his garments, even to
his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle.
18:5. And David went out to whatsoever business Saul sent him, and he
behaved himself prudently:  and Saul set him over the soldiers, and he
was acceptable in the eyes of all the people, and especially in the
eyes of Saul's servants.
18:6. Now when David returned, after he slew the Philistine, the women
came out of all the cities of Israel, singing and dancing, to meet king
Saul, with timbrels of joy, and cornets.
18:7. And the women sung as they played, and they said:  Saul slew his
thousands, and David his ten thousands.
18:8. And Saul was exceeding angry, and this word was displeasing in
his eyes, and he said:  They have given David ten thousands, and to me
they have given but a thousand, what can he have more but the kingdom?
18:9. And Saul did not look on David with a good eye from that day and
18:10. And the day after, the evil spirit from God came upon Saul, and
he prophesied in the midst of his house.  And David played with his hand
as at other times.  And Saul held a spear in his hand,
Prophesied. . .Acted the prophet in a mad manner.
18:11. And threw it, thinking to nail David to the wall:  and David
stept aside out of his presence twice.
18:12. And Saul feared David, because the Lord was with him, and was
departed from Saul himself.
18:13. Therefore Saul removed him from him, and made him a captain over
a thousand men, and he went out and came in before the people.
18:14. And David behaved wisely in all his ways, and the Lord was with
18:15. And Saul saw that he was exceeding prudent, and began to beware
18:16. But all Israel and Juda loved David, for he came in and went out
before them.
18:17. And Saul said to David:  Behold my elder daughter Merob, her will
I give thee to wife:  only be a valiant man, and fight the battles of
the Lord.  Now Saul said within himself:  Let not my hand be upon him,
but let the hands of the Philistines be upon him.
18:18. And David said to Saul:  Who am I, or what is my life, or my
father's family in Israel, that I should be son in law of the king?
18:19. And it came to pass at the time when Merob, the daughter of
Saul, should have been given to David, that she was given to Hadriel,
the Molathite, to wife.
18:20. But Michol, the other daughter of Saul, loved David.  And it was
told Saul, and it pleased him.
18:21. And Saul said:  I will give her to him, that she may be a
stumblingblock to him, and that the hand of the Philistines may be upon
him.  And Saul said to David:  In two things thou shalt be my son in law
18:22. And Saul commanded his servants to speak to David privately,
saying:  Behold, thou pleasest the king, and all his servants love thee.
Now, therefore be the king's son in law.
18:23. And the servants of Saul spoke all these words in the ear of
David.  And David said:  Doth it seem to you a small matter to be the
king's son in law?  But I am a poor man, and of small ability.
18:24. And the servants of Saul told him, saying:  Such words as these
hath David spoken.
18:25. And Saul said:  Speak thus to David:  The king desireth not any
dowry, but only a hundred foreskins of the Philistines, to be avenged
of the king's enemies.  Now Saul thought to deliver David into the hands
of the Philistines.
18:26. And when his servants had told David the words that Saul had
said, the word was pleasing in the eyes of David to be the king's son
18:27. And after a few days David rose up, and went with the men that
were under him, and he slew of the Philistines two hundred men, and
brought their foreskins and numbered them out to the king, that he
might be his son in law.  Saul therefore gave him Michol, his daughter,
18:28. And Saul saw, and understood that the Lord was with David.  And
Michol, the daughter of Saul, loved him.
18:29. And Saul began to fear David more:  and Saul became David's enemy
continually.
18:30. And the princes of the Philistines went forth:  and from the
beginning of their going forth, David behaved himself more wisely than
all the servants of Saul, and his name became very famous.
1 Kings Chapter 19
Other attempts of Saul upon David's life.  He cometh to Samuel.  Saul's
messengers, and Saul himself prophesy.
19:1. And Saul spoke to Jonathan, his son, and to all his servants,
that they should kill David.  But Jonathan, the son of Saul, loved David
exceedingly.
19:2. And Jonathan told David, saying:  Saul, my father, seeketh to kill
thee:  wherefore look to thyself, I beseech thee, in the morning and
thou shalt abide in a secret place, and shalt be hid.
19:3. And I will go out and stand beside my father in the field where
thou art:  and I will speak of thee to my father, and whatsoever I shall
see, I will tell thee.
19:4. And Jonathan spoke good things of David to Saul, his father:  and
said to him:  Sin not, O king, against thy servant, David, because he
hath not sinned against thee, and his works are very good towards thee.
19:5. And he put his life in his hand, and slew the Philistine, and the
Lord wrought great salvation for all Israel.  Thou sawest it and didst
rejoice.  Why therefore wilt thou sin against innocent blood, by killing
David, who is without fault?
19:6. And when Saul heard this, he was appeased with the words of
Jonathan, and swore:  As the Lord liveth, he shall not be slain.
19:7. Then Jonathan called David, and told him all these words:  and
Jonathan brought in David to Saul, and he was before him, as he had
been yesterday and the day before.
19:8. And the war began again, and David went out, and fought against
the Philistines, and defeated them with a great slaughter, and they
fled from his face.
19:9. And the evil spirit from the Lord came upon Saul; and he sat in
his house, and held a spear in his hand:  and David played with his
19:10. And Saul endeavoured to nail David to the wall with his spear.
And David slipt away out of the presence of Saul:  and the spear missed
him, and was fastened in the wall, and David fled, and escaped that
19:11. Saul therefore sent his guards to David's house to watch him,
that he might be killed in the morning.  And when Michol, David's wife,
had told him this, saying:  Unless thou save thyself this night, to
morrow thou wilt die:
19:12. She let him down through a window.  And he went and fled away,
and escaped.
19:13. And Michol took an image, and laid it on the bed, and put a
goat's skin, with the hair at the head of it, and covered it with
19:14. And Saul sent officers to seize David; and it was answered that
he was sick.
19:15. And again Saul sent to see David, saying:  Bring him to me in the
bed, that he may be slain.
19:16. And when the messengers were come in, they found an image upon
the bed, and a goat skin at his head.
19:17. And Saul said to Michol:  Why hast thou deceived me so, and let
my enemy go and flee away?  And Michol answered Saul:  Because he said to
me:  Let me go, or else I will kill thee.
19:18. But David fled and escaped, and came to Samuel in Ramatha, and
told him all that Saul had done to him:  and he and Samuel went and
dwelt in Najoth.
Najoth. . .It was probably a school or college of prophets, in or near
Ramath under the direction of Samuel.
19:19. And it was told Saul by some, saying:  Behold David is in Najoth,
19:20. So Saul sent officers to take David:  and when they saw a company
of prophets prophesying, and Samuel presiding over them, the Spirit of
the Lord came also upon them, and they likewise began to prophesy.
Prophesying. . .That is, singing praises to God by a divine impulse.  God
was pleased on this occasion that both Samuel's messengers and himself
should experience the like impulse, that he might understand, by this
instance of the divine power, how vain are the designs of man against
him whom God protects.
19:21. And when this was told Saul, he sent other messengers:  but they
also prophesied.  And again Saul sent messengers the third time:  and
they prophesied also.  And Saul being exceeding angry,
19:22. Went also himself to Ramatha, and came as far as the great
cistern, which is in Socho, and he asked, and said:  In what place are
Samuel and David?  And it was told him:  Behold they are in Najoth, in
19:23. And he went to Najoth, in Ramatha, and the Spirit of the Lord
came upon him also, and he went on, and prophesied till he came to
Najoth, in Ramatha.
19:24. And he stripped himself also of his garments, and prophesied
with the rest before Samuel, and lay down naked all that day and night.
This gave occasion to a proverb:  What! is Saul too among the prophets?
1 Kings Chapter 20
Saul being obstinately bent upon killing David, he is sent away by
20:1. But David fled from Najoth, which is in Ramatha, and came and
said to Jonathan:  What have I done?  what is my iniquity, and what is my
sin against thy father, that he seeketh my life?
20:2. And he said to him:  (God forbid, thou shalt not die:  for my
father will do nothing, great or little, without first telling me:  hath
then my father hid this word only from me?  no, this shall not be.
20:3. And he swore again to David.  And David said:  Thy father certainly
knoweth that I have found grace in thy sight, and he will say:  Let not
Jonathan know this, lest he be grieved.  But truly as the Lord liveth,
and thy soul liveth, there is but one step (as I may say) between me
20:4. And Jonathan said to David:  Whatsoever thy soul shall say to me,
I will do for thee.
20:5. And David said to Jonathan:  Behold to morrow is the new moon, and
I, according to custom, am wont to sit beside the king to eat:  let me
go then that I may be hid in the field till the evening of the third
To morrow is the new moon. . .The neomenia, or first day of the moon,
kept according to the law, as a festival; and therefore Saul feasted on
that day:  and expected the attendance of his family.
20:6. If thy father look and inquire for me, thou shalt answer him:
David asked me that he might run to Bethlehem, his own city:  because
there are solemn sacrifices there for all of his tribe.
20:7. If he shall say:  It is well:  thy servant shall have peace:  but
if he be angry, know that his malice is come to its height.
20:8. Deal mercifully then with thy servant:  for thou hast brought me,
thy servant, into a covenant of the Lord with thee.  But if there be any
iniquity in me, do thou kill me, and bring me not in to thy father.
20:9. And Jonathan said:  Far be this from thee:  for if I should
certainly know that evil is determined by my father against thee, I
could do no otherwise than tell thee.
20:10. And David answered Jonathan:  Who shall bring me word, if thy
father should answer thee harshly concerning me?
20:11. And Jonathan said to David:  Come, and let us go out into the
field.  And when they were both of them gone out into the field,
20:12. Jonathan said to David:  O Lord God of Israel, if I shall
discover my father's mind, to morrow, or the day after, and there be
any thing good for David, and I send not immediately to thee, and make
it known to thee,
20:13. May the Lord do so and so to Jonathan, and add still more.  But
if my father shall continue in malice against thee, I will discover it
to thy ear, and will send thee away, that thou mayst go in peace, and
the Lord be with thee, as he hath been with my father.
20:14. And if I live, thou shalt shew me the kindness of the Lord:  but
20:15. Thou shalt not take away thy kindness from my house for ever,
when the Lord shall have rooted out the enemies of David, every one of
them from the earth, may he take away Jonathan from his house, and may
the Lord require it at the hands of David's enemies.
May he take away Jonathan, etc. . .It is a curse upon himself, if he
should not be faithful to his promise.--Ibid.  Require it, etc. . .That
is, revenge it upon David's enemies, and upon me, if I should fail of
my word given to him.
20:16. Jonathan therefore made a covenant with the house of David:  and
the Lord required it at the hands of David's enemies.
20:17. And Jonathan swore again to David, because he loved him:  for he
loved him as his own soul.
20:18. And Jonathan said to him:  To morrow is the new moon, and thou
wilt be missed:
20:19. For thy seat will be empty till after to morrow.  So thou shalt
go down quickly, and come to the place where thou must he hid, on the
day when it is lawful to work, and thou shalt remain beside the stone,
which is called Ezel.
20:20. And I will shoot three arrows near it, and will shoot as if I
were exercising myself at a mark.
20:21. And I will send a boy, saying to him:  Go and fetch me the
20:22. If I shall say to the boy:  Behold the arrows are on this side of
thee, take them up:  come thou to me, because there is peace to thee,
and there is no evil, as the Lord liveth.  But if I shall speak thus to
the boy:  Behold the arrows are beyond thee:  go in peace, for the Lord
hath sent thee away.
20:23. And concerning the word which I and thou have spoken, the Lord
be between thee and me forever.
20:24. So David was hid in the field, and the new moon came, and the
king sat down to eat bread.
20:25. And when the king sat down upon his chair, (according to custom)
which was beside the wall, Jonathan arose, and Abner sat by Saul's
side, and David's place appeared empty.
20:26. And Saul said nothing that day, for he thought it might have
happened to him, that he was not clean, nor purified.
20:27. And when the second day after the new moon was come, David's
place appeared empty again.  And Saul said to Jonathan, his son:  Why
cometh not the son of Isai to meat neither yesterday, nor to day?
20:28. And Jonathan answered Saul:  He asked leave of me earnestly to go
to Bethlehem.
20:29. And he said:  Let me go, for there is a solemn sacrifice in the
city, one of my brethren hath sent for me:  and now if I have found
favour in thy eyes, I will go quickly, and see my brethren.  For this
cause he came not to the king's table.
20:30. Then Saul being angry against Jonathan, said to him:  Thou son of
a woman that is the ravisher of a man, do I not know that thou lovest
the son of Isai to thy own confusion, and to the confusion of thy
shameless mother?
20:31. For as long as the son of Isai liveth upon earth, thou shalt not
be established, nor thy kingdom.  Therefore now presently send, and
fetch him to me:  for he is the son of death.
The son of death. . .That is, one that deserveth death, and shall surely
be put to death.
20:32. And Jonathan answering Saul, his father, said:  Why shall he die?
What hath he done?
20:33. And Saul caught up a spear to strike him.  And Jonathan
understood that it was determined by his father to kill David.
20:34. So Jonathan rose from the table in great anger, and did not eat
bread on the second day after the new moon.  For he was grieved for
David, because his father had put him to confusion.
20:35. And when the morning came, Jonathan went into the field
according to the appointment with David, and a little boy with him.
20:36. And he said to his boy:  Go, and fetch me the arrows which I
shoot.  And when the boy ran, he shot another arrow beyond the boy.
20:37. The boy therefore came to the place of the arrow which Jonathan
had shot:  and Jonathan cried after the boy, and said:  Behold the arrow
is there further beyond thee.
20:38. And Jonathan cried again after the boy, saying:  Make haste
speedily, stand not.  And Jonathan's boy gathered up the arrows, and
brought them to his master:
20:39. And he knew not at all what was doing:  for only Jonathan and
David knew the matter.
20:40. Jonathan therefore gave his arms to the boy, and said to him:
Go, and carry them into the city.
20:41. And when the boy was gone, David rose out of his place, which
was toward the south, and falling on his face to the ground, adored
thrice:  and kissing one another, they wept together; but David more.
20:42. And Jonathan said to David:  Go in peace:  and let all stand that
we have sworn both of us in the name of the Lord, saying:  The Lord be
between me and thee, and between my seed and thy seed for ever.
20:43. And David arose, and departed:  and Jonathan went into the city.
1 Kings Chapter 21
David receiveth holy bread of Achimelech, the priest:  and feigneth
himself mad before Achis, king of Geth.
21:1. And David came to Nobe, to Achimelech, the priest and Achimelech
was astonished at David's coming.  And he said to him:  Why art thou
alone, and no man with thee?
Nobe. . .A city in the tribe of Benjamin, to which the tabernacle of the
Lord had been translated from Silo.
21:2. And David said to Achimelech, the priest:  The king hath commanded
me a business, and said:  Let no man know the thing for which thou art
sent by me, and what manner of commands I have given thee:  and I have
appointed my servants to such and such a place.
21:3. Now therefore if thou have any thing at hand, though it were but
five loaves, give me, or whatsoever thou canst find.
21:4. And the priest answered David, saying:  I have no common bread at
hand, but only holy bread, if the young men be clean, especially from
If the young men be clean, etc. . .If this cleanness was required of
them that were to eat that bread, which was a figure of the bread of
life which we receive in the blessed sacrament; how clean ought
Christians to be when they approach to our tremendous mysteries.  And
what reason hath the church of God to admit none to be her ministers to
consecrate and daily receive this most pure sacrament, but such as
devote themselves to a life of perpetual purity.
21:5. And David answered the priest, and said to him:  Truly, as to what
concerneth women, we have refrained ourselves from yesterday and the
day before, when we came out, and the vessels of the young men were
holy.  Now this way is defiled, but it shall also be sanctified this day
in the vessels.
The vessels. . .i.  e., the bodies, have been holy, that is, have been
kept from impurity.--Ibid.  Is defiled. . .Is liable to expose us to
dangers of uncleanness.--Ibid.  Be sanctified, etc. . .That is, we shall
take care, notwithstanding these dangerous circumstances, to keep our
vessels holy, that is, to keep our bodies from every thing that may
21:6. The priest therefore gave him hallowed bread:  for there was no
bread there, but only the loaves of proposition, which had been taken
away from before the face of the Lord, that hot loaves might be set up.
21:7. Now a certain man of the servants of Saul was there that day,
within the tabernacle of the Lord:  and his name was Doeg, an Edomite,
the chiefest of Saul's herdsmen.
21:8. And David said to Achimelech:  Hast thou here at hand a spear, or
a sword?  for I brought not my own sword, nor my own weapons with me,
for the king's business required haste.
21:9. And the priest said:  Lo, here is the sword of Goliath, the
Philistine, whom thou slewest in the valley of Terebinth, wrapped up in
a cloth behind the ephod:  if thou wilt take this, take it, for here
there is no other but this.  And David said:  There is none like that,
21:10. And David arose and fled that day from the face of Saul:  and
came to Achis, the king of Geth:
21:11. And the servants of Achis, when they saw David, said to him:  Is
not this David, the king of the land?  Did they not sing to him in their
dances, saying:  Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten
21:12. But David laid up these words in his heart, and was exceedingly
afraid at the face of Achis, the king of Geth.
21:13. And he changed his countenance before them, and slipt down
between their hands:  and he stumbled against the doors of the gate, and
his spittle ran down upon his beard.
21:14. And Achis said to his servants:  You saw the man was mad:  why
have you brought him to me?
21:15. Have we need of mad men, that you have brought in this fellow,
to play the madman in my presence?  shall this fellow come into my
1 Kings Chapter 22
Many resort to David.  Doeg accuseth Achimelech to Saul.  He ordereth him
and all the other priests of Nobe to be slain.  Abiathar escapeth.
22:1. David therefore went from thence, and fled to the cave of
Odollam.  And when his brethren, and all his father's house, had heard
of it, they went down to him thither.
22:2. And all that were in distress, and oppressed with debt, and under
affliction of mind, gathered themselves unto him:  and he became their
prince, and there were with him about four hundred men.
22:3. And David departed from thence into Maspha of Moab:  and he said
to the king of Moab:  Let my father and my mother tarry with you, I
beseech thee, till I know what God will do for me.
22:4. And he left them under the eyes of the king of Moab, and they
abode with him all the days that David was in the hold.
The hold. . .The strong hold, or fortress of Maspha.
22:5. And Gad the prophet said to David:  Abide not in the hold, depart,
and go into the land of Juda.  And David departed, and came into the
forest of Haret.
22:6. And SauI heard that David was seen, and the men that were with
him.  Now whilst Saul abode in Gabaa, and was in the wood, which is by
Rama, having his spear in his hand, and all his servants were standing
22:7. He said to his servants that stood about him:  Hear me now, ye
sons of Jemini:  will the son of Isai give every one of you fields, and
vineyards, and make you all tribunes, and centurions:
22:8. That all of you have conspired against me, and there is no one to
inform me, especially when even my son hath entered into league with
the son of Isai?  There is not one of you that pitieth my case, nor that
giveth me any information:  because my son hath raised up my servant
against me, plotting against me to this day.
22:9. And Doeg, the Edomite, who stood by, and was the chief among the
servants of Saul, answering, said:  I saw the son of Isai, in Nobe, with
Achimelech, the son of Achitob, the priest.
22:10. And he consulted the Lord for him, and gave him victuals, and
gave him the sword of Goliath, the Philistine.
22:11. Then the king sent to call for Achimelech, the priest, the son
of Achitob, and all his father's house, the priests that were in Nobe,
and they came all of them to the king.
22:12. And Saul said to Achimelech:  Hear, thou son of Achitob.  He
answered:  Here I am, my lord.
22:13. And Saul said to him:  Why have you conspired against me, thou,
and the son of Isai, and thou hast given him bread and a sword, and
hast consulted the Lord for him, that he should rise up against me,
continuing a traitor to this day.
22:14. And Achimelech answering the king, said:  And who amongst all thy
servants is so faithful as David, who is the king's son in law, and
goeth forth at thy bidding, and is honourable in thy house?
22:15. Did I begin to day to consult the Lord for him?  far be this from
me:  let not the king suspect such a thing against his servant, or any
one in all my father's house:  for thy servant knew nothing of this
matter, either little or great.
22:16. And the king said:  Dying thou shalt die, Achimelech, thou and
all thy father's house.
22:17. And the king said to the messengers that stood about him:  Turn,
and kill the priests of the Lord, for their hand is with David, because
they knew that he was fled, and they told it not to me.  And the king's
servants would not put forth their hands against the priests of the
22:18. And the king said to Doeg:  Turn thou, and fall upon the priests.
And Doeg, the Edomite, turned, and fell upon the priests, and slew in
that day eighty-five men that wore the linen ephod.
22:19. And Nobe, the city of the priests, he smote with the edge of the
sword, both men and women, children and sucklings, and ox, and ass, and
sheep, with the edge of the sword.
22:20. But one of the sons of Achimelech, the son of Achitob, whose
name was Abiathar, escaped, and fled to David,
22:21. And told him that Saul had slain the priests of the Lord.
22:22. And David said to Abiathar:  I knew that day when Doeg, the
Edomite, was there, that without doubt he would tell Saul:  I have been
the occasion of the death of all the souls of thy father's house.
22:23. Abide thou with me, fear not:  for he that seeketh my life,
seeketh thy life also, and with me thou shalt be saved.
1 Kings Chapter 23
David relieveth Ceila, besieged by the Philistines.  He fleeth into the
desert of Ziph.  Jonathan and he confirm their former covenant.  The
Ziphites discover him to Saul, who pursuing close after him, is called
away by an invasion from the Philistines.
23:1. And they told David, saying:  Behold the Philistines fight against
Ceila, and they rob the barns.
23:2. Therefore David consulted the Lord, saying:  Shall I go and smite
these Philistines?  And the Lord said to David:  Go, and thou shalt smite
the Philistines, and shalt save Ceila.
23:3. And the men that were with David, said to him:  Behold we are in
fear here in Judea, how much more if we go to Ceila against the bands
of the Philistines?
23:4. Therefore David consulted the Lord again.  And he answered and
said to him:  Arise, and go to Ceila:  for I will deliver the Philistines
into thy hand.
23:5. David, therefore, and his men, went to Ceila, and fought against
the Philistines, and brought away their cattle, and made a great
slaughter of them:  and David saved the inhabitants of Ceila.
23:6. Now at that time, when Abiathar, the son of Achimelech, fled to
David, to Ceila, he came down, having an ephod with him.
An ephod. . .Or the ephod.  That is, the vestment of the high priest,
with the urim and thummim, by which the Lord gave his oracle.
23:7. And it was told Saul that David was come to Ceila:  and Saul said:
The Lord hath delivered him into my hands, and he is shut up, being
come into a city that hath gates and bars.
23:8. And Saul commanded all the people to go down to fight against
Ceila, and to besiege David and his men.
23:9. Now when David understood that Saul secretly prepared evil
against him, he said to Abiathar, the priest:  Bring hither the ephod.
23:10. And David said:  O Lord God of Israel, thy servant hath heard a
report, that Saul designeth to come to Ceila, to destroy the city for
23:11. Will the men of Ceila deliver me into his hands?  and will Saul
come down, as thy servant hath heard?  O Lord God of Israel, tell thy
servant.  And the Lord said:  He will come down.
23:12. And David said:  Will the men of Ceila deliver me and my men into
the hands of Saul?  And the Lord said:  They will deliver thee up.
23:13. Then David and his men, who were about six hundred, arose, and
departing from Ceila, wandered up and down, uncertain where they should
stay:  and it was told Saul that David was fled from Ceila, and had
escaped:  wherefore he forbore to go out.
23:14. But David abode in the desert in strong holds, and he remained
in a mountain of the desert of Ziph, in a woody hill.  And Saul sought
him always:  but the Lord delivered him not into his hands.
23:15. And David saw that Saul was come out to seek his life.  And David
was in the desert of Ziph, in a wood.
23:16. And Jonathan, the son of Saul, arose, and went to David, into
the wood, and strengthened his hands in God:  and he said to him:
23:17. Fear not:  for the hand of my father, Saul, shall not find thee,
and thou shalt reign over Israel, and I shall be next to thee; yea and
my father knoweth this.
23:18. And they two made a covenant before the Lord:  and David abode in
the wood:  but Jonathan returned to his house.
23:19. And the Ziphites went up to Saul, in Gabaa, saying:  Lo, doth not
David lie hid with us in the strong holds of the wood, in mount
Hachila, which is on the right hand of the desert.
23:20. Now therefore come down, as thy soul hath desired to come down:
and it shall be our business to deliver him into the king's hands.
23:21. And Saul said:  Blessed be ye of the Lord, for you have pitied my
23:22. Go, therefore, I pray you, and use all diligence, and curiously
inquire, and consider the place where his foot is, and who hath seen
him there:  for he thinketh of me, that I lie craftily in wait for him.
23:23. Consider, and see all his lurking holes, wherein he is hid, and
return to me with the certainty of the thing, that I may go with you.
And if he should even go down into the earth to hide himself, I will
search him out in all the thousands of Juda.
23:24. And they arose, and went to Ziph before Saul:  and David and his
men were in the desert of Maon, in the plain at the right hand of
23:25. Then Saul and his men went to seek him:  and it was told David,
and forthwith he went down to the rock, and abode in the wilderness of
Maon:  and when Saul had heard of it, he pursued after David in the
wilderness of Maon.
23:26. And Saul went on this side of the mountain:  and David and his
men were on the other side of the mountain:  and David despaired of
being able to escape from the face of Saul:  and Saul and his men
encompassed David and his men round about, to take them.
23:27. And a messenger came to Saul, saying:  Make haste to come, for
the Philistines have poured in themselves upon the land.
23:28. Wherefore Saul returned, leaving the pursuit of David, and went
to meet the Philistines.  For this cause they called that place the rock
of division.
1 Kings Chapter 24
Saul seeketh David in the wilderness of Engaddi:  he goeth into a cave
where David hath him in his power.
24:1. Then David went up from thence, and dwelt in strong holds of
24:2. And when Saul was returned from following the Philistines, they
told him, saying:  Behold, David is in the desert of Engaddi.
24:3. Saul, therefore, took three thousand chosen men out of all
Israel, and went out to seek after David and his men, even upon the
most craggy rocks, which are accessible only to wild goats.
24:4. And he came to the sheepcotes which were in his way.  And there
was a cave, into which Saul went, to ease nature:  now David and his men
lay hid in the inner part of the cave.
24:5. And the servants of David said to him:  Behold the day, of which
the Lord said to thee:  I will deliver thy enemy unto thee, that thou
mayst do to him as it shall seem good in thy eyes.  Then David arose,
and secretly cut off the hem of Saul's robe.
24:6. After which David's heart struck him, because he had cut off the
hem of Saul's robe.
Heart struck him. . .Viz., with remorse, as fearing he had done amiss.
24:7. And he said to his men:  The Lord be merciful unto me, that I may
do no such thing to my master, the Lord's anointed, as to lay my hand
upon him, because he is the Lord's anointed.
24:8. And David stopped his men with his words, and suffered them not
to rise against Saul:  but Saul, rising up out of the cave, went on his
24:9. And David also rose up after him:  and going out of the cave,
cried after Saul, saying:  My lord the king.  And Saul looked behind him:
and David bowing himself down to the ground, worshipped,
24:10. And said to Saul:  Why dost thou hear the words of men that say:
David seeketh thy hurt?
24:11. Behold this day thy eyes have seen, that the Lord hath delivered
thee into my hand, in the cave, and I had a thought to kill thee, but
my eye hath spared thee.  For I said:  I will not put out my hand against
my lord, because he is the Lord's anointed.
A thought to kill thee. . .That is, a suggestion, to which I did not
24:12. Moreover, see and know, O my father, the hem of thy robe in my
hand, that when I cut off the hem of thy robe, I would not put out my
hand against thee.  Reflect, and see, that there is no evil in my hand,
nor iniquity, neither have I sinned against thee:  but thou liest in
wait for my life, to take it away.
24:13. The Lord judge between me and thee and the Lord revenge me of
thee:  but my hand shall not be upon thee.
Revenge me of thee. . .Or, as it is in the Hebrew, will revenge me.  The
meaning is, that he refers his whole cause to God, to judge and punish
according to his justice:  yet so as to keep himself in the mean time,
from all personal hatred to Saul, or desire of gratifying his own
passion, by seeking revenge.  So far from it, that when Saul was
afterwards slain, we find, that instead of rejoicing at his death, he
mourned most bitterly for him.
24:14. As also it is said in the old proverb:  From the wicked shall
wickedness come forth:  therefore my hand shall not be upon thee.  After
whom dost thou come out, O king of Israel?
24:15. After whom dost thou pursue?  After a dead dog, after a flea.
24:16. Be the Lord judge, and judge between me and thee, and see, and
judge my cause, and deliver me out of thy hand.
24:17. And when David had made an end of speaking these words to Saul,
Saul said:  Is this thy voice, my son David?  And Saul lifted up his
voice, and wept:
24:18. And he said to David:  Thou art more just than I:  for thou hast
done good to me, and I have rewarded thee with evil.
24:19. And thou hast shewed this day what good things thou hast done to
me:  how the Lord delivered me into thy hand, and thou hast not killed
24:20. For who when he hath found his enemy, will let him go well away?
But the Lord reward thee for this good turn, for what thou hast done to
me this day.
24:21. And now as I know that thou shalt surely be king, and have the
kingdom of Israel in thy hand:
24:22. Swear to me by the Lord, that thou wilt not destroy my seed
after me, nor take away my name from the house of my father.
24:23. And David swore to Saul.  So Saul went home:  and David and his
men went up into safer places.
1 Kings Chapter 25
The death of Samuel.  David, provoked by Nabal, threateneth to destroy
him:  but is appeased by Abigail.
25:1. And Samuel died, and all Israel was gathered together, and they
mourned for him, and buried him in his house in Ramatha.  And David
rose, and went down into the wilderness of Pharan.
25:2. Now there was a certain man in the wilderness of Maon, and his
possessions were in Carmel, and the man was very great:  and he had
three thousand sheep, and a thousand goats:  and it happened that he was
shearing his sheep in Carmel.
25:3. Now the name of the man was Nabal:  and the name of his wife was
Abigail.  And she was a prudent and very comely woman:  but her husband
was churlish, and very bad and ill natured:  and he was of the house of
25:4. And when David heard in the wilderness, that Nabal was shearing
25:5. He sent ten young men, and said to them:  Go up to Carmel, and go
to Nabal, and salute him in my name with peace.
25:6. And you shall say:  Peace be to my brethren, and to thee, and
peace to thy house, and peace to all that thou hast.
25:7. I have heard that thy shepherds that were with us in the desert
were shearing:  we never molested them, neither was there ought missing
to them of the flock at any time, all the while they were with us in
25:8. Ask thy servants, and they will tell thee.  Now therefore let thy
servants find favour in thy eyes:  for we are come in a good day,
whatsoever thy hand shall find give to thy servants, and to thy son
25:9. And when David's servants came, they spoke to Nabal all these
words in David's name, and then held their peace.
25:10. But Nabal answering the servants of David, said:  Who is David?
and what is the son of Isai?  servants are multiplied now days who flee
from their masters.
25:11. Shall I then take my bread, and my water, and the flesh of my
cattle, which I have killed for my shearers, and give to men whom I
know not whence they are?
25:12. So the servants of David went back their way, and returning came
and told him all the words that he said.
25:13. Then David said to his young men:  Let every man gird on his
sword.  And they girded on every man his sword.  And David also girded on
his sword:  and there followed David about four hundred men, and two
hundred remained with the baggage.
25:14. But one of the servants told, Abigail, the wife of Nabal,
saying:  Behold, David sent messengers out of the wilderness, to salute
our master:  and he rejected them.
25:15. These men were very good to us, and gave us no trouble:  Neither
did we ever lose any thing all the time that we conversed with them in
25:16. They were a wall unto us, both by night and day, all the while
we were with them keeping the sheep.
25:17. Wherefore consider, and think what thou hast to do:  for evil is
determined against thy husband, and against thy house, and he is a son
of Belial, so that no man can speak to him.
25:18. Then Abigail made haste and took two hundred loaves, and two
vessels of wine, and five sheep ready dressed, and five measures of
parched corn, and a hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes
of dry figs, and laid them upon asses:
25:19. And she said to her servants:  Go before me:  behold, I will
follow after you:  but she told not her husband, Nabal.
25:20. And when she had gotten upon an ass, and was coming down to the
foot of the mountain, David and his men came down over against her, and
she met them.
25:21. And David said:  Truly in vain have I kept all that belonged to
this fellow in the wilderness, and nothing was lost of all that
pertained unto him:  and he hath returned me evil for good.
25:22. May God do so and so, and add more to the foes of David, if I
leave of all that belong to him till the morning, any that pisseth
against the wall.
If I leave, etc. . .David certainly sinned in his designs against Nabal
and his family, as he himself was afterwards sensible, when he blessed
God for hindering him from executing the revenge he had proposed.
25:23. And when Abigail saw David, she made haste and lighted off the
ass, and fell before David, on her face, and adored upon the ground.
25:24. And she fell at his feet, and said:  Upon me let this iniquity
be, my lord:  let thy handmaid speak, I beseech thee, in thy ears, and
hear the words of thy servant.
25:25. Let not my lord the king, I pray thee, regard this naughty man,
Nabal:  for according to his name, he is a fool, and folly is with him:
but I, thy handmaid, did not see thy servants, my lord, whom thou
His name. . .Nabal, in Hebrew, signifies a fool.
25:26. Now therefore, my lord, the Lord liveth, and thy soul liveth,
who hath withholden thee from coming to blood, and hath saved thy hand
to thee:  and now let thy enemies be as Nabal, and all they that seek
evil to my lord.
25:27. Wherefore receive this blessing, which thy handmaid hath brought
to thee, my lord:  and give it to the young men that follow thee, my
25:28. Forgive the iniquity of thy handmaid:  for the Lord will surely
make for my lord a faithful house, because thou, my lord, fightest the
battles of the Lord:  let not evil therefore be found in thee all the
days of thy life.
25:29. For if a man at any time shall rise, and persecute thee, and
seek thy life, the soul of my lord shall be kept, as in the bundle of
the living, with the Lord thy God:  but the souls of thy enemies shall
be whirled, as with the violence and whirling of a sling.
25:30. And when the Lord shall have done to thee, my lord, all the good
that he hath spoken concerning thee, and shall have made thee prince
over Israel,
25:31. This shall not be an occasion of grief to thee, and a scruple of
heart to my lord, that thou hast shed innocent blood, or hast revenged
thyself:  and when the Lord shall have done well by my lord, thou shalt
remember thy handmaid.
25:32. And David said to Abigail:  Blessed be the Lord the God of
Israel, who sent thee this day to meet me, and blessed be thy speech:
25:33. And blessed be thou, who hast kept me to day from coming to
blood, and revenging me with my own hand.
25:34. Otherwise, as the Lord liveth, the God of Israel, who hath
withholden me from doing thee any evil, if thou hadst not quickly come
to meet me, there had not been left to Nabal by the morning light, any
that pisseth against the wall.
25:35. And David received at her hand all that she had brought him, and
said to her:  Go in peace into thy house, behold I have heard thy voice,
and honoured thy face.
25:36. And Abigail came to Nabal:  and behold he had a feast in his
house, like the feast of a king:  and Nabal's heart was merry, for he
was very drunk:  and she told him nothing less or more until morning.
25:37. But early in the morning, when Nabal had digested his wine, his
wife told him these words, and his heart died within him, and he became
25:38. And after ten days had passed, the Lord struck Nabal, and he
25:39. And when David had heard that Nabal was dead, he said:  Blessed
be the Lord, who hath judged the cause of my reproach, at the hand of
Nabal, and hath kept his servant from evil, and the Lord hath returned
the wickedness of Nabal upon his head.  Then David sent and treated with
Abigail, that he might take her to himself for a wife.
Blessed be, etc. . .David praiseth God, on this occasion, not out of joy
for the death of Nabal (which would have argued a rancour of heart),
but because he saw that God had so visibly taken his cause in hand, in
punishing the injury done to him; whilst, by a merciful providence he
kept him from revenging himself.
25:40. And David's servants came to Abigail, to Carmel, and spoke to
her, saying:  David hath sent us to thee, to take thee to himself for a
25:41. And she arose, and bowed herself down with her face to the
earth, and said:  Behold, let thy servant be a handmaid, to wash the
feet of the servants of my lord.
25:42. And Abigail arose, and made haste, and got upon an ass, and five
damsels went with her, her waiting maids, and she followed the
messengers of David, and became his wife.
25:43. Moreover David took also Achinoam of Jezrahel:  and they were
both of them his wives.
25:44. But Saul gave Michol, his daughter, David's wife, to Phalti, the
son of Lais, who was of Gallim.
1 Kings Chapter 26
Saul goeth out again after David, who cometh by night where Saul and
his men are asleep, but suffereth him not to be touched.  Saul again
confesseth his fault, and promiseth peace.
26:1. And the men of Ziph came to Saul in Gabaa, saying:  Behold David
is hid in the hill of Hachila, which is over against the wilderness.
26:2. And Saul arose, and went down to the wilderness of Ziph having
with him three thousand chosen men of Israel, to seek David in the
wilderness of Ziph.
26:3. And Saul encamped in Gabaa Hachila, which was over against the
wilderness in the way:  and David abode in the wilderness.  And seeing
that Saul was come after him into the wilderness,
26:4. He sent spies, and learned that he was most certainly come
26:5. And David arose secretly, and came to the place where Saul was:
and when he had beheld the place, wherein Saul slept, and Abner, the
son of Ner, the captain of his army, and Saul sleeping in a tent, and
the rest of the multitude round about him,
26:6. David spoke to Achimelech, the Hethite, and Abisai, the son of
Sarvia, the brother of Joab, saying:  Who will go down with me to Saul
into the camp?  And Abisai said:  I will go with thee.
26:7. So David and Abisai came to the people by night, and found Saul
lying and sleeping in the tent, and his spear fixed in the ground at
his head:  and Abner and the people sleeping round about him.
26:8. And Abisai said to David:  God hath shut up thy enemy this day
into thy hands:  now then I will run him through with my spear, even to
the earth at once, and there shall be no need of a second time.
26:9. And David said to Abisai:  Kill him not:  for who shall put forth
his hand against the Lord's anointed, and shall be guiltless?
26:10. And David said:  As the Lord liveth, unless the Lord shall strike
him, or his day shall come to die, or he shall go down to battle, and
26:11. The Lord be merciful unto me, and keep me that I never put forth
my hand against the Lord's anointed.  But now take the spear which is at
his head, and the cup of water, and let us go.
26:12. So David took the spear, and the cup of water which was at
Saul's head, and they went away:  and no man saw it, or knew it, or
awaked, but they were all asleep, for a deep sleep from the Lord was
fallen upon them.
26:13. And when David was gone over to the other side, and stood on the
top of the hill afar off, and a good space was between them,
26:14. David cried to the people, and to Abner, the son of Ner, saying:
Wilt thou not answer, Abner?  And Abner answering, said:  Who art thou,
that criest, and disturbest the king?
26:15. And David said to Abner:  Art not thou a man?  and who is like
unto thee in Israel?  why then hast thou not kept thy lord the king?  for
there came one of the people in to kill the king thy lord.
26:16. This thing is not good, that thou hast done:  as the Lord liveth,
you are the sons of death, who have not kept your master, the Lord's
anointed.  And now where is the king's spear, and the cup of water,
which was at his head?
26:17. And Saul knew David's voice, and said:  Is this thy voice, my son
David?  And David said:  It is my voice, my lord the king.
26:18. And he said:  Wherefore doth my lord persecute his servant?  What
have I done?  or what evil is there in my hand?
26:19. Now therefore hear, I pray thee, my lord the king, the words of
thy servant:  If the Lord stir thee up against me, let him accept of
sacrifice:  but if the sons of men, they are cursed in the sight of the
Lord, who have cast me out this day, that I should not dwell in the
inheritance of the Lord, saying:  Go, serve strange gods.
26:20. And now let not my blood be shed upon the earth before the Lord:
for the king of Israel is come out to seek a flea, as the partridge is
hunted in the mountains.
26:21. And Saul said:  I have sinned; return, my son David, for I will
no more do thee harm, because my life hath been precious in thy eyes
this day:  for it appeareth that I have done foolishly, and have been
ignorant in very many things.
26:22. And David answering, said:  Behold the king's spear:  let one of
the king's servants come over and fetch it.
26:23. And the Lord will reward every one according to his justice, and
his faithfulness:  for the Lord hath delivered thee this day into my
hand, and I would not put forth my hand against the Lord's anointed.
26:24. And as thy life hath been much set by this day in my eyes, so
let my life be much set by in the eyes of the Lord, and let him deliver
me from all distress.
26:25. Then Saul said to David:  Blessed art thou, my son David:  and
truly doing thou shalt do, and prevailing thou shalt prevail.  And David
went on his way, and Saul returned to his place.
1 Kings Chapter 27
David goeth again to Achis king of Geth, and obtaineth of him the city
27:1. And David said in his heart:  I shall one day or other fall into
the hands of Saul:  is it not better for me to flee, and to be saved in
the land of the Philistines, that Saul may despair of me, and cease to
seek me in all the coasts of Israel?  I will flee then out of his hands.
27:2. And David arose, and went away, both he and the six hundred men
that were with him, to Achis, the son of Maoch, king of Geth.
27:3. And David dwelt with Achis at Geth, he and his men; every man
with his household, and David with his two wives, Achinoam, the
Jezrahelitess, and Abigail, the wife of Nabal of Carmel.
27:4. And it was told Saul that David was fled to Geth, and he sought
no more after him.
27:5. And David said to Achis:  If I have found favour in thy sight, let
a place be given me in one of the cities of this country, that I may
dwell there:  for why should thy servant dwell in the royal city with
27:6. Then Achis gave him Siceleg that day:  for which reason Siceleg
belongeth to the kings of Juda unto this day.
27:7. And the time that David dwelt in the country of the Philistines,
was four months.
27:8. And David and his men went up, and pillaged Gessuri, and Gerzi,
and the Amalecites:  for these were of old the inhabitants of the
countries, as men go to Sur, even to the land of Egypt.
Pillaged Gessuri, etc. . .These probably were enemies of the people of
God:  and some, if not all of them, were of the number of those whom God
had ordered to be destroyed:  which justifies David's proceedings in
their regard.  Though it is to be observed here, that we are not under
an obligation of justifying every thing that he did:  for the scripture,
in relating what was done, does not say that it was well done.  And even
such as are true servants of God, are not to be imitated in all they
27:9. And David wasted all the land, and left neither man nor woman
alive:  and took away the sheep, and the oxen, and the asses, and the
camels, and the apparel, and returned and came to Achis.
27:10. And Achis said to him:  Whom hast thou gone against to day?  David
answered:  Against the south of Juda, and against the south of Jerameel,
and against the south of Ceni.
27:11. And David saved neither man nor woman, neither brought he any of
them to Geth, saying:  Lest they should speak against us.  So did David,
and such was his proceeding all the days that he dwelt in the country
of the Philistines.
27:12. And Achis believed David, saying:  He hath done much harm to his
people Israel:  Therefore he shall be my servant for ever.
1 Kings Chapter 28
The Philistines go out to war against Israel.  Saul being forsaken by
God, hath recourse to a witch.  Samuel appeareth to him.
28:1. And it came to pass in those days, that the Philistines gathered
together their armies, to be prepared for war against Israel:  And Achis
said to David:  Know thou now assuredly, that thou shalt go out with me
to the war, thou, and thy men.
28:2. And David said to Achis:  Now thou shalt know what thy servant
will do.  And Achis said to David:  And I will appoint thee to guard my
life for ever.
28:3. Now Samuel was dead, and all Israel mourned for him, and buried
him in Ramatha, his city.  And Saul had put away all the magicians and
soothsayers out of the land.
28:4. And the Philistines were gathered together, and came and encamped
in Sunam:  and Saul also gathered together all Israel, and came to
28:5. And Saul saw the army of the Philistines, and was afraid, and his
heart was very much dismayed.
28:6. And he consulted the Lord, and he answered him not, neither by
dreams, nor by priests, nor by prophets.
28:7. And Saul said to his servants:  Seek me a woman that hath a
divining spirit, and I will go to her, and enquire by her.  And his
servants said to him:  There is a woman that hath a divining spirit at
28:8. Then he disguised himself:  and put on other clothes, and he went,
and two men with him, and they came to the woman by night, and he said
to her:  Divine to me by thy divining spirit, and bring me up him whom I
shall tell thee.
28:9. And the woman said to him:  Behold thou knowest all that Saul hath
done, and how he hath rooted out the magicians and soothsayers from the
land:  why then dost thou lay a snare for my life, to cause me to be put
28:10. And Saul swore unto her by the Lord, saying:  As the Lord liveth,
there shall no evil happen to thee for this thing.
28:11. And the woman said to him:  Whom shall I bring up to thee?  And he
said, Bring me up Samuel.
28:12. And when the woman saw Samuel, she cried out with a loud voice,
and said to Saul:  Why hast thou deceived me?  for thou art Saul.
28:13. And the king said to her:  Fear not:  what hast thou seen?  and
the woman said to Saul:  I saw gods ascending out of the earth.
28:14. And he said to her:  What form is he of?  And she said:  An old
man cometh up, and he is covered with a mantle.  And Saul understood that
it was Samuel, and he bowed himself with his face to the ground, and
Understood that it was Samuel. . .It is the more common opinion of the
holy fathers, and interpreters, that the soul of Samuel appeared
indeed:  and not, as some have imagined, an evil spirit in his shape.
Not that the power of her magic could bring him thither, but that God
was pleased for the punishment of Saul, that Samuel himself should
denounce unto him the evils that were falling upon him.  See Eccli.
28:15. And Samuel said to Saul:  Why hast thou disturbed my rest, that I
should be brought up?  And Saul said:  I am in great distress:  for the
Philistines fight against me, and God is departed from me, and would
not hear me, neither by the hand of prophets, nor by dreams:  therefore
I have called thee, that thou mayst shew me what I shall do.
28:16. And Samuel said:  Why askest thou me, seeing the Lord has
departed from thee, and is gone over to thy rival?
28:17. For the Lord will do to thee as he spoke by me, and he will rend
thy kingdom out of thy hand, and will give it to thy neighbour David:
28:18. Because thou didst not obey the voice of the Lord, neither didst
thou execute the wrath of his indignation upon Amalec.  Therefore hath
the Lord done to thee what thou sufferest this day.
28:19. And the Lord also will deliver Israel with thee into the hands
of the Philistines:  and to morrow thou and thy sons shall be with me:
and the Lord will also deliver the army of Israel into the hands of the
Philistines.
With me. . .That is, in the state of the dead, and in another world,
though not in the same place.
28:20. And forthwith Saul fell all along on the ground; for he was
frightened with the words of Samuel, and there was no strength in him,
for he had eaten no bread all that day.
28:21. And the woman came to Saul, (for he was very much troubled) and
said to him:  Behold thy handmaid hath obeyed thy voice, and I have put
my life in my hand:  and I hearkened unto the words which thou spokest
28:22. Now therefore, I pray thee, hearken thou also to the voice of
thy handmaid, and let me set before thee a morsel of bread, that thou
mayst eat and recover strength, and be able to go on thy journey.
28:23. But he refused, and said:  I will not eat.  But his servants and
the woman forced him, and at length hearkening to their voice, he arose
from the ground, and sat upon the bed.
28:24. Now the woman had a fatted calf in the house, and she made haste
and killed it:  and taking meal, kneaded it, and baked some unleavened
28:25. And set it before Saul, and before his servants.  And when they
had eaten they rose up, and walked all that night.
1 Kings Chapter 29
David going with the Philistines is sent back by their princes.
29:1. Now all the troops of the Philistines were gathered together to
Aphec:  and Israel also encamped by the fountain, which is in Jezrahel.
29:2. And the lords of the Philistines marched with their hundreds and
their thousands:  but David and his men were in the rear with Achis.
29:3. And the princes of the Philistines said to Achis:  What mean these
Hebrews?  And Achis said to the princes of the Philistines:  Do you not
know David who was the servant of Saul, the king of Israel, and hath
been with me many days, or years, and I have found no fault in him,
since the day that he fled over to me until this day?
29:4. But the prices of the Philistines were angry with him, and they
said to him:  Let this man return, and abide in his place, which thou
hast appointed him, and let him not go down with us to battle, lest he
be an adversary to us, when we shall begin to fight:  for how can he
otherwise appease his master, but with our heads?
29:5. Is not this David, to whom they sung in their dances, saying:
Saul slew his thousands, and David his ten thousands?
29:6. Then Achis called David, and said to him:  As the Lord liveth,
thou art upright and good in my sight:  and so is thy going out, and thy
coming in with me in the army:  and I have not found any evil in thee,
since the day that thou camest to me unto this day:  but thou pleasest
not the lords.
29:7. Return therefore, and go in peace, and offend not the eyes of the
princes of the Philistines.
29:8. And David said to Achis:  But what have I done, or what hast thou
found in me thy servant, from the day that I have been in thy sight
until this day, that I may not go and fight against the enemies of my
lord the king?
29:9. And Achis answering, said to David:  I know that thou art good in
my sight, as an angel of God:  But the princes of the Philistines have
said:  He shall not go up with us to the battle.
29:10. Therefore arise in the morning, thou, and the servants of thy
lord, who came with thee:  and when you are up before day, and it shall
begin to be light, go on your way.
29:11. So David and his men arose in the night, that they might set
forward in the morning, and returned to the land of the Philistines:
and the Philistines went up to Jezrahel.
1 Kings Chapter 30
The Amalecites burn Siceleg, and carry off the prey:  David pursueth
after them, and recovereth all out of their hands.
30:1. Now when David and his men were come to Siceleg on the third day,
the Amalecites had made an invasion on the south side upon Siceleg, and
had smitten Siceleg, and burnt it with fire,
30:2. And had taken the women captives that were in it, both little and
great:  and they had not killed any person, but had carried them with
them, and went on their way.
30:3. So when David and his men came to the city, and found it burnt
with fire, and that their wives, and their sons, and their daughters,
were taken captives,
30:4. David and the people that were with him, lifted up their voices,
and wept till they had no more tears.
30:5. For the two wives also of David were taken captives, Achinoam,
the Jezrahelitess, and Abigail, the wife of Nabal of Carmel.
30:6. And David was greatly afflicted:  for the people had a mind to
stone him, for the soul of every man was bitterly grieved for his sons
and daughters:  but David took courage in the Lord his God.
30:7. And he said to Abiathar, the priest, the son of Achimelech:  Bring
me hither the ephod.  And Abiathar brought the ephod to David.
30:8. And David consulted the Lord, saying:  Shall I pursue after these
robbers, and shall I overtake them, or not?  And the Lord said to him:
Pursue after them:  for thou shalt surely overtake them and recover the
30:9. So David went, he and the six hundred men that were with him, and
they came to the torrent Besor:  and some, being weary, stayed there.
30:10. But David pursued, he and four hundred men:  for two hundred
stayed, who, being weary, could not go over the torrent Besor.
30:11. And they found an Egyptian in the field, and brought him to
David:  and they gave him bread to eat, and water to drink,
30:12. As also a piece of a cake of figs, and two bunches of raisins.
And when he had eaten them, his spirit returned, and he was refreshed:
for he had not eaten bread, nor drunk water, three days and three
30:13. And David said to him:  To whom dost thou belong; or whence dost
thou come?  and whither art thou going?  He said:  I am a young man of
Egypt, the servant of an Amalecite:  and my master left me, because I
began to be sick three days ago.
30:14. For we made an invasion on the south side of Cerethi, and upon
Juda, and upon the south of Caleb, and we burnt Siceleg with fire.
30:15. And David said to him:  Canst thou bring me to this company?  and
he said:  Swear to me by God, that thou wilt not kill me, nor deliver me
into the hands of my master, and I will bring thee to this company.  And
David swore to him.
30:16. And when he had brought him, behold they were lying spread
abroad upon all the ground, eating and drinking, and as it were keeping
a festival day, for all the prey and the spoils which they had taken
out of the land of the Philistines, and out of the land of Juda.
30:17. And David slew them from the evening unto the evening of the
next day, and there escaped not a man of them, but four hundred young
men, who had gotten upon camels, and fled.
30:18. So David recovered all that the Amalecites had taken, and he
rescued his two wives.
30:19. And there was nothing missing small or great, neither of their
sons or their daughters, nor of the spoils, and whatsoever they had
taken, David recovered all.
30:20. And he took all the flocks and the herds, and made them go
before him:  and they said:  This is the prey of David.
30:21. And David came to the two hundred men, who, being weary, had
stayed, and were not able to follow David, and he had ordered them to
abide at the torrent Besor:  and they came out to meet David, and the
people that were with him.  And David coming to the people, saluted them
30:22. Then all the wicked and unjust men, that had gone with David,
answering, said:  Because they came not with us, we will not give them
any thing of the prey which we have recovered:  but let every man take
his wife, and his children, and be contented with them, and go his way.
30:23. But David said:  You shall not do so, my brethren, with these
things, which the Lord hath given us, who hath kept us, and hath
delivered the robbers that invaded us into our hands:
30:24. And no man shall hearken to you in this matter.  But equal shall
be the portion of him that went down to battle, and of him that abode
at the baggage, and they shall divide alike.
30:25. And this hath been done from that day forward, and since was
made a statute and an ordinance, and as a law in Israel.
30:26. Then David came to Siceleg, and sent presents of the prey to the
ancients of Juda, his neighbours, saying:  Receive a blessing of the
prey of the enemies of the Lord.
30:27. To them that were in Bethel, and that were in Ramoth to the
south, and to them that were in Jether.
30:28. And to them that were in Aroer, and that were in Sephamoth, and
that were in Esthamo,
30:29. And that were in Rachal, and that were in the cities of
Jerameel, and that were in the cities of Ceni,
30:30. And that were in Arama, and that were in the lake Asan, and that
were in Athach,
30:31. And that were in Hebron, and to the rest that were in those
places, in which David had abode with his men.
1 Kings Chapter 31
Israel is defeated by the Philistines:  Saul and his sons are slain.
31:1. And the Philistines fought against Israel, and the men of Israel
fled from before the Philistines, and fell down slain in mount Gelboe.
31:2. And the Philistines fell upon Saul, and upon his sons, and they
slew Jonathan, and Abinadab, and Melchisua, the sons of Saul.
31:3. And the whole weight of the battle was turned upon Saul:  and the
archers overtook him, and he was grievously wounded by the archers.
31:4. Then Saul said to his armourbearer:  Draw thy sword, and kill me:
lest these uncircumcised come, and slay me, and mock at me.  And his
armourbearer would not:  for he was struck with exceeding great fear.
Then Saul took his sword, and fell upon it.
31:5. And when his armourbearer saw this, to wit, that Saul was dead,
he also fell upon his sword and died with him.
31:6. So Saul died, and his three sons, and his armourbearer, and all
his men that same day together.
31:7. And the men of Israel, that were beyond the valley, and beyond
the Jordan, seeing that the Israelites were fled, and that Saul was
dead, and his sons, forsook their cities, and fled:  and the Philistines
came and dwelt there.
31:8. And on the morrow the Philistines came to strip the slain, and
they found Saul and his three sons lying in mount Gelboe.
31:9. And they cut off Saul's head, and stripped him of his armour, and
sent into the land of the Philistines round about, to publish it in the
temples of their idols and among their people.
31:10. And they put his armour in the temple of Astaroth, but his body
they hung on the wall of Bethsan.
31:11. Now when the inhabitants of Jabes Galaad had heard all that the
Philistines had done to Saul,
31:12. All the most valiant men arose, and walked all the night, and
took the body of Saul, and the bodies of his sons, from the wall of
Bethsan:  and they came to Jabes Galaad, and burnt them there.
31:13. And they took their bones, and buried them in the wood of Jabes:
and fasted seven days.
THE SECOND BOOK OF SAMUEL, OTHERWISE CALLED THE SECOND BOOK OF KINGS
This Book relates the transactions from the death of Saul until the end
of David's reign, being a history for the space of about forty-six
2 Kings Chapter 1
David mourneth for the death of Saul and Jonathan:  he ordereth the man
to be slain who pretended he had killed Saul.
1:1. Now it came to pass, after Saul was dead, that David returned from
the slaughter of the Amalecites, and abode two days in Siceleg.
1:2. And on the third day, there appeared a man who came out of Saul's
camp, with his garments rent, and dust strewed on his head:  and when he
came to David, he fell upon his face, and adored.
1:3. And David said to him:  From whence comest thou?  And he said to
him:  I am fled out of the camp of Israel.
1:4. And David said unto him:  What is the matter that is come to pass?
tell me:  He said:  The people are fled from the battle, and many of the
people are fallen and dead:  moreover Saul and Jonathan his son are
1:5. And David said to the young man that told him:  How knowest thou
that Saul and Jonathan his son, are dead?
1:6. And the young man that told him, said:  I came by chance upon mount
Gelboe, and Saul leaned upon his spear:  and the chariots and horsemen
drew nigh unto him,
1:7. And looking behind him, and seeing me, he called me.  And I
answered, Here am I.
1:8. And he said to me:  Who art thou?  And I said to him:  I am an
1:9. And he said to me:  Stand over me, and kill me:  for anguish is come
upon me, and as yet my whole life is in me.
1:10. So standing over him, I killed him:  for I knew that he could not
live after the fall:  and I took the diadem that was on his head, and
the bracelet that was on his arm, and have brought them hither to thee,
I killed him. . .This story of the young Amalecite was not true, as may
easily be proved by comparing it with the last chapter of the foregoing
1:11. Then David took hold of his garments and rent them, and likewise
all the men that were with him.
1:12. And they mourned, and wept, and fasted until evening for Saul,
and for Jonathan his son, and for the people of the Lord, and for the
house of Israel, because they were fallen by the sword.
1:13. And David said to the young man that told him:  Whence art thou?
He answered:  I am the son of a stranger of Amalec.
1:14. David said to him:  Why didst thou not fear to put out thy hand to
kill the Lord's anointed?
1:15. And David calling one of his servants, said:  Go near and fall
upon him.  And he struck him so that he died.
1:16. And David said to him:  Thy blood be upon thy own head:  for thy
own mouth hath spoken against thee, saying:  I have slain the Lord's
1:17. And David made this kind of lamentation over Saul, and over
Jonathan his son.
1:18. (Also he commanded that they should teach the children of Juda
the use of the bow, as it is written in the book of the just.)  And he
said:  Consider, O Israel, for them that are dead, wounded on thy high
1:19. The illustrious of Israel are slain upon thy mountains:  how are
the valiant fallen?
1:20. Tell it not in Geth, publish it not in the streets of Ascalon:
lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of
the uncircumcised triumph.
1:21. Ye mountains of Gelboe, let neither dew, nor rain come upon you,
neither be they fields of firstfruits:  for there was cast away the
shield of the valiant, the shield of Saul as though he had not been
anointed with oil.
1:22. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the valiant, the
arrow of Jonathan never turned back, and the sword of Saul did not
return empty.
1:23. Saul and Jonathan, lovely, and comely in their life, even in
death they were not divided:  they were swifter than eagles, stronger
1:24. Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you with
scarlet in delights, who gave ornaments of gold for your attire.
1:25. How are the valiant fallen in battle?  Jonathan slain in the high
1:26. I grieve for thee, my brother Jonathan:  exceeding beautiful, and
amiable to me above the love of women.  As the mother loveth her only
son, so did I love thee.
1:27. How are the valiant fallen, and the weapons of war perished?
2 Kings Chapter 2
David is received and anointed king of Juda.  Isboseth the son of Saul
reigneth over the rest of Israel.  A battle between Abner and Joab.
2:1. And after these things David consulted the Lord, saying:  Shall I
go up into one of the cities of Juda?  And the Lord said to him:  Go up.
And David said:  Whither shall I go up?  And he answered him:  Into
2:2. So David went up, and his two wives Achinoam the Jezrahelitess,
and Abigail the wife of Nabal of Carmel:
2:3. And the men also that were with him, David brought up every man
with his household:  and they abode in the towns of Hebron.
2:4. And the men of Juda came, and anointed David there, to be king
over the house of Juda.  And it was told David that the men of Jabes
Galaad had buried Saul.
2:5. David therefore sent messengers to the men of Jabes Galaad, and
said to them:  Blessed be you to the Lord, who have shewn this mercy to
your master Saul, and have buried him.
2:6. And now the Lord surely will render you mercy and truth, and I
also will requite you for this good turn, because you have done this
2:7. Let your hands be strengthened, and be ye men of valour:  for
although your master Saul be dead, yet the house of Juda hath anointed
me to be their king.
2:8. But Abner the son of Ner, general of Saul's army, took Isboseth
the son of Saul, and led him about through the camp,
2:9. And made him king over Galaad, and over Gessuri, and over
Jezrahel, and over Ephraim, and over Benjamin, and over all Israel.
2:10. Isboseth the son of Saul was forty years old when he began to
reign over Israel, and he reigned two years; and only the house of Juda
followed David.
He reigned two years. . .Viz., before he began visibly to decline:  but
in all he reigned seven years and six months; for so long David reigned
2:11. And the number of the days that David abode, reigning in Hebron
over the house of Juda, was seven years and six months.
2:12. And Abner the son of Ner, and the servants of Isboseth the son of
Saul, went out from the camp to Gabaon.
2:13. And Joab the son of Sarvia, and the servants of David went out,
and met them by the pool of Gabaon.  And when they were come together,
they sat down over against one another:  the one on the one side of the
pool, and the other on the other side.
2:14. And Abner said to Joab:  Let the young men rise, and play before
us.  And Joab answered:  Let them rise.
2:15. Then there arose and went over twelve in number of Benjamin, of
the part of Isboseth the son of Saul, and twelve of the servants of
2:16. And every one catching his fellow by the head, thrust his sword
into the side of his adversary, and they fell down together:  and the
name of the place was called:  The field of the valiant, in Gabaon.
2:17. And there was a very fierce battle that day:  and Abner was put to
flight, with the men of Israel, by the servants of David.
2:18. And there were the three sons of Sarvia there, Joab, and Abisai,
and Asael:  now Asael was a most swift runner, like one of the roes that
abide in the woods.
2:19. And Asael pursued after Abner, and turned not to the right hand
nor to the left from following Abner.
2:20. And Abner looked behind him, and said:  Art thou Asael?  And he
answered:  I am.
2:21. And Abner said to him:  Go to the right hand or to the left, and
lay hold on one of the young men and take thee his spoils.  But Asael
would not leave off following him close.
2:22. And again Abner said to Asael:  Go off, and do not follow me, lest
I be obliged to stab thee to the ground, and I shall not be able to
hold up my face to Joab thy brother.
2:23. But he refused to hearken to him, and would not turn aside:
wherefore Abner struck him with his spear with a back stroke in the
groin, and thrust him through, and he died upon the spot:  and all that
came to the place where Asael fell down and died stood still.
2:24. Now while Joab and Abisai pursued after Abner, the sun went down:
and they came as far as the hill of the aqueduct, that lieth over
against the valley by the way of the wilderness in Gabaon.
2:25. And the children of Benjamin gathered themselves together to
Abner:  and being joined in one body, they stood on the top of a hill.
2:26. And Abner cried out to Joab, and said:  Shall thy sword rage unto
utter destruction?  knowest thou not that it is dangerous to drive
people to despair?  how long dost thou defer to bid the people cease
from pursuing after their brethren?
2:27. And Joab said:  As the Lord liveth, if thou hadst spoke sooner,
even in the morning the people should have retired from pursuing after
their brethren.
2:28. Then Joab sounded the trumpet, and all the army stood still, and
did not pursue after Israel any farther, nor fight any more.
2:29. And Abner and his men walked all that night through the plains:
and they passed the Jordan, and having gone through all Beth-horon,
came to the camp.
2:30. And Joab returning, after he had left Abner, assembled all the
people:  and there were wanting of David's servants nineteen men, beside
2:31. But the servants of David had killed of Benjamin, and of the men
that were with Abner, three hundred and sixty, who all died.
2:32. And they took Asael, and buried him in the sepulchre of his
father in Bethlehem and Joab, and the men that were with him, marched
all the night, and they came to Hebron at break of day.
2 Kings Chapter 3
David groweth daily stronger.  Abner cometh over to him:  he is
treacherously slain by Joab.
3:1. Now there was a long war between the house of Saul and the house
of David:  David prospering and growing always stronger and stronger,
but the house of Saul decaying daily.
There was a long war between the house of Saul, etc. . .Rather a strife
or emulation than a war with arms; it lasted five years and a half.
3:2. And sons were born to David in Hebron:  and his firstborn was Ammon
of Achinoam the Jezrahelitess:
3:3. And his second Cheleab of Abigail the wife of Nabal of Carmel:  and
the third Absalom the son of Maacha the daughter of Tholmai king of
3:4. And the fourth Adonias, the son of Haggith:  and the fifth
Saphathia the son of Abital:
3:5. And the sixth Jethraam of Egla the wife of David:  these were born
to David In Hebron.
3:6. Now while there was war between the house of Saul and the house of
David, Abner the son of Ner ruled the house of Saul.
3:7. And Saul had a concubine named Respha, the daughter of Aia.  And
Isboseth said to Abner:
3:8. Why didst thou go in to my father's concubine?  And he was
exceedingly angry for the words of Isboseth, and said:  Am I a dog's
head against Juda this day, who have shewn mercy to the house of Saul
thy father, and to his brethren and friends, and have not delivered
thee into the hands of David, and hast thou sought this day against me
to charge me with a matter concerning a woman?
3:9. So do God to Abner, and more also, unless as the Lord hath sworn
to David, so I do to him,
3:10. That the kingdom be translated from the house of Saul, and the
throne of David be set up over Israel, and over Juda from Dan to
3:11. And he could not answer him a word, because he feared him.
3:12. Abner therefore sent messengers to David for himself, saying:
Whose is the land?  and that they should say:  Make a league with me, and
my hand shall be with thee:  and I will bring all Israel to thee.
3:13. And he said:  Very well:  I will make a league with thee:  but one
thing I require of thee, saying:  Thou shalt not see my face before thou
bring Michol the daughter of Saul:  and so thou shalt come, and see me.
3:14. And David sent messengers to Isboseth the son of Saul, saying:
Restore my wife Michol, whom I espoused to me for a hundred foreskins
of the Philistines.
3:15. And Isboseth sent, and took her from her husband Phaltiel, the
son of Lais.
3:16. And her husband followed her, weeping as far as Bahurim:  and
Abner said to him:  Go and return.  And he returned.
3:17. Abner also spoke to the ancients of Israel, saying:  Both
yesterday and the day before you sought for David that he might reign
3:18. Now then do it:  because the Lord hath spoken to David, saying:  By
the hand of my servant David I will save my people Israel from the
hands of the Philistines, and of all their enemies.
3:19. And Abner spoke also to Benjamin.  And he went to speak to David
in Hebron all that seemed good to Israel, and to all Benjamin.
3:20. And he came to David in Hebron with twenty men:  and David made a
feast for Abner, and his men that came with him.
3:21. And Abner said to David:  I will rise, that I may gather all
Israel unto thee my lord the king, and may enter into a league with
thee, and that thou mayst reign over all as thy soul desireth.  Now when
David had brought Abner on his way, and he was gone in peace,
3:22. Immediately, David's servants and Joab came, after having slain
the robbers, with an exceeding great booty.  And Abner was not with
David in Hebron, for he had now sent him away, and he was gone in
3:23. And Joab and all the army that was with him, came afterwards:  and
it was told Joab, that Abner the son of Ner came to the king, and he
hath sent him away, and he is gone in peace.
3:24. And Joab went in to the king, and said:  What hast thou done?
Behold Abner came to thee:  Why didst thou send him away, and he is gone
and departed?
3:25. Knowest thou not Abner the son of Ner, that to this end he came
to thee, that he might deceive thee, and to know thy going out, and thy
coming in, and to know all thou dost?
3:26. Then Joab going out from David, sent messengers after Abner, and
brought him back from the cistern of Sira, David knowing nothing of it.
3:27. And when Abner was returned to Hebron, Joab took him aside to the
middle of the gate, to speak to him treacherously:  and he stabbed him
there in the groin, and he died, in revenge of the blood of Asael his
3:28. And when David heard of it, after the thing was now done, he
said:  I, and my kingdom are innocent before the Lord for ever of the
blood of Abner the son of Ner:
3:29. And may it come upon the head of Joab, and upon all his father's
house:  and let there not fail from the house of Joab one that hath an
issue of seed, or that is a leper, or that holdeth the distaff, or that
falleth by the sword, or that wanteth bread.
3:30. So Joab and Abisai his brother slew Abner, because he had killed
their brother Asael at Gabaon in the battle.
3:31. And David said to Joab, and to all the people that were with him:
Rend your garments, and gird yourselves with sackcloths, and mourn
before the funeral of Abner.  And king David himself followed the bier.
3:32. And when they had buried Abner in Hebron, king David lifted up
his voice, and wept at the grave of Abner:  and all the people also
3:33. And the king mourning and lamenting over Abner, said:  Not as
cowards are wont to die, hath Abner died.
3:34. Thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet laden with fetters:  but as
men fall before the children of iniquity, so didst thou fall.  And all
the people repeating it wept over him.
3:35. And when all the people came to take meat with David, while it
was yet broad day, David swore, saying:  So do God to me, and more also,
if I taste bread or any thing else before sunset.
3:36. And all the people heard, and they were pleased, and all that the
king did seemed good in the sight of all the people.
3:37. And all the people, and all Israel understood that day that it
was not the king's doing, that Abner the son of Ner was slain.
3:38. The king also said to his servants:  Do you not know that a prince
and a great man is slain this day in Israel?
3:39. But I as yet am tender, though anointed king.  And these men the
sons of Sarvia are too hard for me:  the Lord reward him that doth evil
according to his wickedness.
2 Kings Chapter 4
Isboseth is murdered by two of his servants.  David punisheth the
4:1. And Isboseth the son of Saul heard that Abner was slain in Hebron:
and his hands were weakened, and all Israel was troubled.
4:2. Now the son of Saul had two men captains of his bands, the name of
the one was Baana, and the name of the other Rechab, the sons of Remmon
a Berothite of the children of Benjamin:  for Beroth also was reckoned
in Benjamin.
4:3. And the Berothites fled into Gethaim, and were sojourners there
until that time.
4:4. And Jonathan the son of Saul had a son that was lame of his feet:
for he was five years old when the tidings came of Saul and Jonathan
from Jezrahel.  And his nurse took him up and fled:  and as she made
haste to flee, he fell and became lame:  and his name was Miphiboseth.
4:5. And the sons of Remmon the Berothite, Rechab and Baana coming,
went into the house of Isboseth in the heat of the day:  and he was
sleeping upon his bed at noon.  And the doorkeeper of the house, who was
cleansing wheat, was fallen asleep.
4:6. And they entered into the house secretly taking ears of corn, and
Rechab and Baana his brother stabbed him in the groin, and fled away.
4:7. For when they came into the house, he was sleeping upon his bed in
a parlour, and they struck him and killed him and taking away his head
they went off by the way of the wilderness, walking all night.
4:8. And they brought the head of Isboseth to David to Hebron:  and they
said to the king:  Behold the head of Isboseth the son of Saul thy enemy
who sought thy life:  and the Lord hath revenged my lord the king this
day of Saul, and of his seed.
4:9. But David answered Rechab, and Baana his brother, the sons of
Remmon the Berothite, and said to them:  As the Lord liveth, who hath
delivered my soul out of all distress,
4:10. The man that told me, and said:  Saul is dead, who thought he
brought good tidings, I apprehended, and slew him in Siceleg, who
should have been rewarded for his news.
4:11. How much more now when wicked men have slain an innocent man in
his own house, upon his bed, shall I not require his blood at your
hand, and take you away from the earth?
4:12. And David commanded his servants and they slew them:  and cutting
off their hands and feet, hanged them up over the pool in Hebron:  but
the head of Isboseth they took and buried in the sepulchre of Abner in
2 Kings Chapter 5
David is anointed king of all Israel.  He taketh Jerusalem, and dwelleth
there.  He defeateth the Philistines.
5:1. Then all the tribes of Israel came to David in Hebron, saying:
Behold we are thy bone and thy flesh.
5:2. Moreover yesterday also and the day before, when Saul was king
over us, thou wast he that did lead out and bring in Israel:  and the
Lord said to thee:  Thou shalt feed my people Israel, and thou shalt be
prince over Israel.
5:3. The ancients also of Israel came to the king of Hebron, and king
David made a league with them in Hebron before the Lord:  and they
anointed David to be king over Israel.
5:4. David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned
forty years.
5:5. In Hebron he reigned over Juda seven years and six months:  and in
Jerusalem he reigned three and thirty years over all Israel and Juda.
5:6. And the king and all the men that were with him went to Jerusalem
to the Jebusites the inhabitants of the land:  and they said to David:
Thou shalt not come in hither unless thou take away the blind and the
lame that say:  David shall not come in hither.
5:7. But David took the castle of Sion, the same is the city of David.
5:8. For David had offered that day a reward to whosoever should strike
the Jebusites and get up to the gutters of the tops of the houses, and
take away the blind and the lame that hated the soul of David:
therefore it is said in the proverb:  The blind and the lame shall not
come into the temple.
5:9. And David dwelt in the castle, and called it, The city of David:
and built round about from Mello and inwards.
5:10. And he went on prospering and growing up, and the Lord God of
hosts was with him.
5:11. And Hiram the king of Tyre sent messengers to David, and cedar
trees, and carpenters, and masons for walls:  and they built a house for
5:12. And David knew that the Lord had confirmed him king over Israel,
and that he had exalted his kingdom over his people Israel.
5:13. And David took more concubines and wives of Jerusalem, after he
was come from Hebron:  and there were born to David other sons also and
David took more concubines and wives of Jerusalem. . .Not harlots, but
wives of an inferior condition; for such, in scripture, are styled
5:14. And these are the names of them, that were born to him in
Jerusalem, Samua, and Sobab, and Nathan, and Solomon,
5:15. And Jebahar, and Elisua, and Nepheg,
5:16. And Japhia, and Elisama, and Elioda, and Eliphaleth.
5:17. And the Philistines heard that they had anointed David to be king
over Israel:  and they all came to seek David:  and when David heard of
it, he went down to a strong hold.
5:18. And the Philistines coming spread themselves in the valley of
5:19. And David consulted the Lord, Saying:  Shall I go up to the
Philistines?  and wilt thou deliver them into my hand?  And the Lord said
to David:  Go up, for I will surely deliver the Philistines into thy
5:20. And David came to Baal Pharisim:  and defeated them there, and he
said, The Lord hath divided my enemies before me, as waters are
divided.  Therefore the name of the place was called Baal Pharisim.
5:21. And they left there their idols:  which David and his men took
5:22. And the Philistines came up again and spread themselves into the
valley of Raphaim.
5:23. And David consulted the Lord:  Shall I go up against the
Philistines, and wilt thou deliver them into my hands?  He answered:  Go
not up against them but fetch a compass behind them, and thou shalt
come upon them over against the pear trees.
5:24. And when thou shalt hear the sound of one going in the tops of
the pear trees, then shalt thou join battle:  for then will the Lord go
out before thy face to strike the army of the Philistines.
5:25. And David did as the Lord had commanded him, and he smote the
Philistines from Gabaa until thou come to Gezer.
2 Kings Chapter 6
David fetcheth the ark from Cariathiarim.  Oza is struck dead for
touching it.  It is deposited in the house of Obededom:  and from thence
carried to David's house.
6:1. And David again gathered together all the chosen men of Israel,
thirty thousand.
6:2. And David arose and went, with all the people that were with him
of the men of Juda to fetch the ark of God, upon which the name of the
Lord of Hosts is invoked, who sitteth over it upon the cherubims.
6:3. And they laid the ark of God upon a new cart:  and took it out of
the house of Abinadab, who was in Gabaa, and Oza and Ahio, the sons of
Abinadab, drove the new cart.
Gabaa. . .The hill of Cariathiarim, where the ark had been in the house
of Abinadab, from the time of its being restored back by the
Philistines.
6:4. And when they had taken it out of the house of Abinadab, who was
in Gabaa, Ahio having care of the ark of God went before the ark.
6:5. But David and all Israel played before the Lord on all manner of
instruments made of wood, on harps and lutes and timbrels and cornets
and cymbals.
6:6. And when they came to the floor of Nachon, Oza put forth his hand
to the ark of God, and took hold of it:  because the oxen kicked and
made it lean aside.
6:7. And the indignation of the Lord was enkindled against Oza, and he
struck him for his rashness:  and he died there before the ark of God.
6:8. And David was grieved because the Lord had struck Oza, and the
name of that place was called:  The striking of Oza, to this day.
6:9. And David was afraid of the Lord that day, saying:  How shall the
ark of the Lord come to me?
6:10. And he would not have the ark of the Lord brought in to himself
into the city of David:  but he caused it to be carried into the house
of Obededom the Gethite.
6:11. And the ark of the Lord abode in the house of Obededom the
Gethite three months:  and the Lord blessed Obededom, and all his
6:12. And it was told king David, that the Lord had blessed Obededom,
and all that he had, because of the ark of God.  So David went, and
brought away the ark of God out of the house of Obededom into the city
of David with joy.  And there were with David seven choirs, and calves
for victims.
Choirs. . .Or companies of musicians.
6:13. And when they that carried the ark of the Lord had gone six
paces, he sacrificed and ox and a ram:
6:14. And David danced with all his might before the Lord:  and David
was girded with a linen ephod.
6:15. And David and all the louse of Israel brought the ark of the
covenant of the Lord with joyful shouting, and with sound of trumpet.
6:16. And when the ark of the Lord was come into the city of David,
Michol the daughter of Saul, looking out through a window, saw king
David leaping and dancing before the Lord:  and she despised him in her
6:17. And they brought the ark of the Lord, and set it in its place in
the midst of the tabernacle, which David had pitched for it:  and David
offered holocausts, and peace offerings before the Lord.
6:18. And when he had made an end of offering holocausts and peace
offerings, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts.
6:19. And he distributed to all the multitude of Israel, both men and
women, to every one, a cake of bread, and a piece of roasted beef, and
fine flour fried with oil:  and all the people departed every one to his
6:20. And David returned to bless his own house:  and Michol the
daughter of Saul coming out to meet David, said:  How glorious was the
king of Israel to day, uncovering himself before the handmaids of his
servants, and was naked, as if one of the buffoons should be naked.
6:21. And David said to Michol:  Before the Lord, who chose me rather
than thy father, and than all his house, and commanded me to be ruler
over the people of the Lord in Israel,
6:22. I will both play and make myself meaner than I have done:  and I
will be little in my own eyes:  and with the handmaids of whom thou
speakest, I shall appear more glorious.
6:23. Therefore Michol the daughter of Saul had no child to the day of
2 Kings Chapter 7
David's purpose to build a temple is rewarded with the promise of great
blessings in his seed:  his prayer and thanksgiving.
7:1. And it came to pass when the king sat in his house, and the Lord
had given him rest on every side from all his enemies,
7:2. He said to Nathan the prophet:  Dost thou see that I dwell in a
house of cedar, and the ark of God is lodged within skins?
7:3. And Nathan said to the king:  Go, do all that is in they heart:
because the Lord is with thee.
7:4. But it came to pass that night, that the word of the Lord came to
Nathan, saying:
7:5. Go, and say to my servant David:  Thus saith the Lord:  Shalt thou
build me a house to dwell in?
7:6. Whereas I have not dwelt in a house from the day that I brought
the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt even to this day:  but
have walked in a tabernacle, and in a tent.
7:7. In all the places that I have gone through with all the children
of Israel, did ever I speak a word to any one of the tribes of Israel,
whom I commanded to feed my people Israel, saying:  Why have you not
built me a house of cedar?
7:8. And now thus shalt thou speak to my servant David:  Thus saith the
Lord of hosts:  I took thee out of the pastures from following the sheep
to be ruler over my people Israel:
7:9. And I have been with thee wheresoever thou hast walked, and have
slain all thy enemies from before thy face:  and I have made thee a
great man, like unto the name of the great ones that are on the earth.
7:10. And I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and I will plant
them, and they shall dwell therein, and shall be disturbed no more:
neither shall the children of iniquity afflict them any more as they
7:11. From the day that I appointed judges over my people Israel:  and I
will give thee rest from all thy enemies.  And the Lord foretelleth to
thee, that the Lord will make thee a house.
7:12. And when thy days shall be fulfilled, and thou shalt sleep with
thy fathers, I will raise up thy seed after thee, which shall proceed
out of the bowels, and I will establish his kingdom.
I will establish his kingdom. . .This prophecy partly relateth to
Solomon:  but much more to Christ, who is called the son of David in
scripture, and who is the builder of the true temple, which is the
church, his everlasting kingdom, which shall never fail.
7:13. He shall build a house to my name, and I will establish the
throne of his kingdom fore ever.
7:14. I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son:  and if he
commit any iniquity, I will correct him with the rod of men, and with
the stripes of the children of men.
7:15. But my mercy I will not take away from him, as I took it from
Saul, whom I removed from before my face.
7:16. And thy house shall be faithful, and thy kingdom for ever before
thy face, and thy throne shall be firm for ever.
7:17. According to all these words and according to all this vision so
did Nathan speak to David.
7:18. And David went in, and sat before the Lord, and said:  Who am I, O
Lord God, and what is my house, that thou hast brought me thus far?
7:19. Bur yet this hath seemed little in thy sight, O Lord God, unless
thou didst also speak of the house of thy servant for a long time to
come:  for this is the law of Adam, O Lord God:
7:20. And what can David say more unto thee?  for thou knowest thy
servant, O Lord God:
7:21. For thy word's sake, and according to thy own heart thou has done
all these great things, so that thou wouldst make it known to thy
7:22. Therefore thou art magnified, O Lord God, because there is none
like to thee, neither is there any God besides thee, in all the things
that we have heard with our ears.
7:23. And what nation is there upon earth, as thy people Israel, whom
God went to redeem for a people to himself, and to make him a name, and
to do for them great and terrible things, upon the earth, before the
face of thy people, whom thou redeemedst to thyself out of Egypt, from
the nations and their gods.
7:24. For thou hast confirmed to thyself thy people Israel to be an
everlasting people:  and thou, O Lord God, art become their God.
7:25. And now, O Lord God, raise up for ever the word that thou hast
spoken, concerning thy servant and concerning his house:  and do as thou
hast spoken,
7:26. That thy name may be magnified for ever, and it may be said:  The
Lord of hosts is God over Israel.  And the house of thy servant David
shall be established before the Lord.
7:27. Because thou, O Lord of hosts, God of Israel, hast revealed to
the ear of thy servant, saying:  I will build thee a house:  therefore
hath thy servant found in his heart to pray this prayer to thee.
7:28. And now, O Lord God, thou art God, and thy words shall be true:
for thou hast spoken to thy servant these good things.
7:29. And now begin, and bless the house of thy servant, that it may
endure for ever before thee:  because thou, O Lord God, hast spoken it,
and with thy blessing let the house of thy servant be blessed for ever.
2 Kings Chapter 8
David's victories, and his chief officers.
8:1. And it came to pass after this that David defeated the
Philistines, and brought them down, and David took the bridle of
tribute out of the hand of the Philistines,
8:2. And he defeated Moab, and measured them with a line, casting them
down to the earth:  and he measured with two lines, one to put to death,
and one to save alive:  and Moab was made to serve David under tribute.
8:3. David defeated also Adarezer the son of Rohob king of Soba, when
he went to extend his dominion over the river Euphrates.
8:4. And David took from him a thousand and seven hundred horsemen, and
twenty thousand footmen, and houghed all the chariot horses:  and only
reserved of them for one hundred chariots.
8:5. And the Syrians of Damascus came to succour Adarezer the king of
Soba:  and David slew of the Syrians two and twenty thousand men.
8:6. And David put garrisons in Syria of Damascus:  and Syria served
David under tribute, and the Lord preserved David in all his
enterprises, whithersoever he went.
8:7. And David took the arms of gold, which the servants of Adarezer
wore and brought them to Jerusalem.
8:8. And out of Bete, and out of Beroth, cities of Adarezer, king David
took and exceeding great quantity of brass.
8:9. And Thou the king of Emath heard that David had defeated all the
forces of Adarezer.
8:10. And Thou sent Joram his son to king David, to salute him, and to
congratulate with him, and to return him thanks:  because he had fought
against Adarezer, and had defeated him.  For Thou was an enemy to
Adarezer, and in his hand were vessels of gold, and vessels of silver,
and vessels of brass:
8:11. And king David dedicated them to the Lord, together with the
silver and gold that he had dedicated of all the nations, which he had
8:12. Of Syria, and of Moab, and of the children Ammon, and of the
Philistines, and of Amalec, and of the spoils of Adarezer the son of
Rohob king of Soba.
8:13. David also made himself a name, when he returned after taking
Syria in the valley of the saltpits, killing eighteen thousand:
8:14. And he put guards in Edom, and placed there a garrison:  and all
Edom was made to serve David:  and the Lord preserved David in all
enterprises he went about.
8:15. And David reigned over all Israel:  and David did judgment and
justice to all his people.
8:16. And Joab the son Sarvia was over the army:  and Josaphat the son
of Ahilud was recorder:
Recorder. . .Or chancellor.
8:17. And Sadoc the son of Achitob, and Achimelech the son of Abiathar,
were the priests:  and Saraias was the scribe:
Scribe. . .Or secretary.
8:18. And Banaias the son of Joiada was over the Cerethi and Phelethi:
and the sons of David were the princes.
The Cerethi and Phelethi. . .The king's guards.--Ibid.
Princes. . .Literally priests.  (Cohen) So called, by a title of honour,
and not from exercising the priestly functions.
2 Kings Chapter 9
David's kindness to Miphiboseth for the sake of his father Jonathan.
9:1. And David said:  Is there any one, think you, left of the house of
Saul, that I may shew kindness to him for Jonathan's sake?
9:2. Now there was of the house of Saul, a servant named Siba:  and when
the king had called him to him, he said to him:  Art thou Siba?  And he
answered:  I am Siba thy servant.
9:3. And the king said:  Is there any one left of the house of Saul,
that I may shew the mercy of God unto Him?  And Siba said to the king:
There is a son of Jonathan left, who is lame of his feet.
9:4. Where is he?  said he.  And Siba said to the king:  Behold he is in
the house of Machir the son of Ammiel in Lodabar.
9:5. Then King David sent, and brought him out of the house of Machir
the son of Ammiel of Lodabar.
9:6. And when Miphiboseth the son of Jonathan the son of Saul was come
to David, he fell on his face and worshipped.  And David said:
Miphiboseth?  And he answered:  Behold thy servant.
9:7. And David said to him:  Fear not, for I will surely shew thee mercy
for Jonathan thy father's sake, and I will restore the lands of Saul
the father, and thou shalt eat bread at my table always.
9:8. He bowed down to him, and said:  Who am I thy servant, that thou
shouldst look upon such a dead dog as I am?
9:9. Then the King called Siba the servant of Saul, and said to him:
All that belonged to Saul, and all his house, I have given to thy
master's son.
9:10. Thou therefore and the sons and thy servants shall till the land
for him:  and thou shalt bring in food for thy master's son, that he may
be maintained:  and Miphiboseth the son of thy master shall always eat
bread at my table.  And Siba had fifteen sons and twenty servants.
9:11. And Siba said to the king:  As thou my lord the hast commanded thy
servant, so will thy servant do:  and Miphiboseth shall eat at my table,
as one of the sons of the King.
9:12. And Miphiboseth had a young son whose name was Micha:  and all
that kindred of the house of Siba served Miphiboseth.
9:13. But Miphiboseth dwelt in Jerusalem:  because he ate always of the
king's table:  and he was lame of both feet.
2 Kings Chapter 10
The Ammonites shamefully abuse the ambassadors of David:  they hire the
Syrians to the their assistance:  but are overthrown with their allies.
10:1. And it came to pass after this, that the king of the children of
Ammon died, and Hanon his son reigned in his stead.
10:2. And David said:  I will shew kindness to Hanon the son of Daas, as
his father shewed kindness to me.  So David sent his servants to comfort
him for the death of his father.  But when the servants of David were
come into the land of the children of Ammon,
10:3. The princes of the children of Ammon said to Hanon their lord:
Thinkest thou that for the honour of thy father, David hath sent
comforters to thee, and hath not David rather sent his servants to thee
to search, and spy into the city, and overthrow it?
10:4. Wherefore Hanon took the servants of David, and shaved off the
one half of their beards, and cut away half of their garments even to
the buttocks, and sent them away.
10:5. When this was told David, he sent to meet them:  for the men were
sadly put to confusion, and David commanded them, saying:  Stay at
Jericho, till your beards be grown, and then return.
10:6. And the children of Ammon seeing that they had done an injury to
David, sent and hired the Syrians of Rohob, and the Syrians of Soba,
twenty thousand footmen, and of the king of Maacha a thousand men, and
of Istob twelve thousand men.
10:7. And when David heard this, he sent Joab and the whole army of
10:8. And the children of Ammon came out, and set their men in array at
the entering in of the gate:  but the Syrians of Soba, and of Rohob, and
of Istob, and of Maacha were by themselves in the field.
10:9. Then Joab seeing that the battle was prepared against him, both
before and behind, chose of all the choice men of Israel, and put them
in array against the Syrians:
10:10. And the rest of the people he delivered to Abisai his brother,
who set them in array against the children of Ammon.
10:11. And Joab said:  If the Syrians are too strong for me, then thou
shalt help me, but if the children of Ammon are too strong for thee,
then I will help thee.
10:12. Be of good courage, and let us fight for our people, and for the
city of our God:  and the Lord will do what is good in his sight.
10:13. And Joab and the people that were with him, began to fight
against the Syrians:  and they immediately fled before him.
10:14. And the children of Ammon seeing that the Syrians were fled,
they fled also before Abisai, and entered into the city:  and Joab
returned from the children of Ammon, and came to Jerusalem.
10:15. Then the Syrians seeing that they had fallen before Israel,
gathered themselves together.
10:16. And Adarezer sent and fetched the Syrians, that were beyond the
river, and brought over their army:  and Sobach, the captain of the host
of Adarezer, was their general.
10:17. And when this was told David, he gathered all Israel together,
and passed over the Jordan, and came to Helam:  and the Syrians set
themselves in array against David, and fought against him.
10:18. And the Syrians fled before Israel, and David slew of the
Syrians the men of seven hundred chariots, and forty thousand horsemen:
and smote Sobach the captain of the army, who presently died.
10:19. And all the kings that were auxiliaries of Adarezer, seeing
themselves overcome by Israel, were afraid and fled away, eight and
fifty thousand men before Israel.  And they made peace with Israel:  and
served them, and all the Syrians were afraid to help the children of
Ammon any more.
2 Kings Chapter 11
David falleth into the crime of adultery with Bethsabee:  and not
finding other means to conceal it, causeth her husband Urias to be
slain.  Then marrieth her, who beareth him a son.
11:1. And it came to pass at the return of the year, at the time when
kings go forth to war, that David sent Joab and his servants with him,
and all Israel, and they spoiled the children of Ammon, and besieged
Rabba:  but David remained in Jerusalem.
11:2. In the mean time it happened that David arose from his bed after
noon, and walked upon the roof of the king's house:  And he saw from the
roof of his house a woman washing herself, over against him:  and the
woman was very beautiful.
11:3. And the king sent, and inquired who the woman was.  And it was
told him, that she was Bethsabee the daughter of Eliam, the wife of
Urias the Hethite.
11:4. And David sent messengers, and took her, and she came in to him,
and he slept with her:  and presently she was purified from her
uncleanness:
11:5. And she returned to her house having conceived.  And she sent and
told David, and said:  I have conceived.
11:6. And David sent to Joab, saying:  Send me Urias the Hethite.  And
Joab sent Urias to David.
11:7. And Urias came to David.  And David asked how Joab did, and the
people, and how the war was carried on.
11:8. And David said to Urias:  Go into thy house, and wash thy feet.
And Urias went out from the king's house, and there went out after him
a mess of meat from the king.
11:9. But Urias slept before the gate of the king's house, with the
other servants of his lord, and went not down to his own house.
11:10. And it was told David by some that said:  Urias went not to his
house.  And David said to Urias:  Didst thou not come from thy journey?
why didst thou not go down to thy house?
11:11. And Urias said to David:  The ark of God and Israel and Juda
dwell in tents, and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord abide upon
the face of the earth:  and shall I go into my house, to eat and to
drink, and to sleep with my wife?  By thy welfare and by the welfare of
thy soul I will not do this thing.
11:12. Then David said to Urias:  Tarry here to day, and to morrow I
will send thee away.  Urias tarried in Jerusalem that day and the next.
11:13. And David called him to eat and to drink before him, and he made
him drunk:  and he went out in the evening, and slept on his couch with
the servants of his lord, and went not down into his house.
11:14. And when the morning was come, David wrote a letter to Joab:  and
sent it by the hand of Urias,
11:15. Writing in the letter:  Set ye Urias in the front of the battle,
where the fight is strongest:  and leave ye him, that he may be wounded
11:16. Wherefore as Joab was besieging the city, he put Urias in the
place where he knew the bravest men were.
11:17. And the men coming out of the city, fought against Joab, and
there fell some of the people of the servants of David, and Urias the
Hethite was killed also.
11:18. Then Joab sent, and told David all things concerning the battle.
11:19. And he charged the messenger, saying:  When thou hast told all
the words of the battle to the king,
11:20. If thou see him to be angry, and he shall say:  Why did you
approach so near to the wall to fight?  knew you not that many darts are
thrown from above off the wall?
11:21. Who killed Abimelech the son of Jerobaal?  did not a woman cast a
piece of a millstone upon him from the wall and slew him in Thebes?  Why
did you go near the wall?  Thou shalt say:  Thy servant Urias the Hethite
is also slain.
11:22. So the messenger departed, and came and told David all that Joab
had commanded him.
11:23. And the messenger said to David:  The men prevailed against us,
and they came out to us into the field:  and we vigorously charged and
pursued them even to the gate of the city.
11:24. And the archers shot their arrows at thy servants from off the
wall above:  and some of the king's servants are slain, and thy servant
Urias the Hethite is also dead.
11:25. And David said to the messenger:  Thus shalt thou say to Joab:
Let not this thing discourage thee:  for various is the event of war:
and sometimes one, sometimes another is consumed by the sword:
encourage thy warriors against the city, and exhort them that thou
mayest overthrow it.
11:26. And the wife of Urias heard that Urias her husband was dead, and
she mourned for him.
11:27. And the mourning being over, David sent and brought her into his
house, and she became his wife, and she bore him a son:  and this thing
which David had done, was displeasing to the Lord.
2 Kings Chapter 12
Nathan's parable.  David confesseth his sin, and is forgiven:  yet so as
to be sentenced to most severe temporal punishments.  The death of the
child.  The birth of Solomon.  The taking of Rabbath.
12:1. And the Lord sent Nathan to David:  and when he was come to him,
he said to him:  There were two men in one city, the one rich, and the
12:2. The rich man had exceeding many sheep and oxen.
12:3. But the poor man had nothing at all but one little ewe lamb,
which he had bought and nourished up, and which had grown up in his
house together with his children, eating of his bread, and drinking of
his cup, and sleeping in his bosom:  and it was unto him as a daughter.
12:4. And when a certain stranger was come to the rich man, he spared
to take of his own sheep and oxen, to make a feast for that stranger,
who was come to him, but took the poor man's ewe, and dressed it for
the man that was come to him.
12:5. And David's anger being exceedingly kindled against that man, he
said to Nathan:  As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this is a
child of death.
12:6. He shall restore the ewe fourfold, because he did this thing, and
had no pity.
12:7. And Nathan said to David:  Thou art the man.  Thus saith the Lord
the God of Israel:  I anointed thee king over Israel, and I delivered
thee from the hand of Saul,
12:8. And gave thee thy master's house and thy master's wives into thy
bosom, and gave thee the house of Israel and Juda:  and if these things
be little, I shall add far greater things unto thee.
12:9. Why therefore hast thou despised the word of the Lord, to do evil
in my sight?  Thou hast killed Urias the Hethite with the sword, and
hast taken his wife to be thy wife, and hast slain him with the sword
of the children of Ammon.
12:10. Therefore the sword shall never depart from thy house, because
thou hast despised me, and hast taken the wife of Urias the Hethite to
be thy wife.
12:11. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold, I will raise up evil against thee
out of thy own house, and I will take thy wives before thy eyes and
give them to thy neighbour, and he shall lie with thy wives in the
sight of this sun.
I will raise, etc. . .All these evils, inasmuch as they were
punishments, came upon David by a just judgment of God, for his sin,
and therefore God says, I will raise, etc.; but inasmuch as they were
sins, on the part of Absalom and his associates, God was not the author
of them, but only permitted them.
12:12. For thou didst it secretly:  but I will do this thing in the
sight of all Israel, and in the sight of the sun.
12:13. And David said to Nathan:  I have sinned against the Lord.  And
Nathan said to David:  The Lord also hath taken away thy sin:  thou shalt
12:14. Nevertheless, because thou hast given occasion to the enemies of
the Lord to blaspheme, for this thing, the child that is born to thee,
shall surely die.
12:15. And Nathan returned to his house.  The Lord also struck the child
which the wife of Urias had borne to David, and his life was despaired
12:16. And David besought the Lord for the child:  and David kept a
fast, and going in by himself lay upon the ground.
12:17. And the ancients of his house came, to make him rise from the
ground:  but he would not, neither did he eat meat with them.
12:18. And it came to pass on the seventh day that the child died:  and
the servants of David feared to tell him, that the child was dead.  For
they said:  Behold when the child was yet alive, we spoke to him, and he
would not hearken to our voice:  how much more will he afflict himself
if we tell him that the child is dead?
12:19. But when David saw his servants whispering, he understood that
the child was dead:  and he said to his servants:  Is the child dead?
They answered him He is dead.
12:20. Then David arose from the ground, and washed and anointed
himself:  and when he had changed his apparel, he went into the house of
the Lord:  and worshipped, and then he came into his own house, and he
called for bread, and ate.
12:21. And his servants said to him:  What thing is this that thou hast
done?  thou didst fast and weep for the child, while it was alive, but
when the child was dead, thou didst rise up, and eat bread.
12:22. And he said:  While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept
for him:  for I said:  Who knoweth whether the Lord may not give him to
me, and the child may live?
12:23. But now that he is dead, why should I fast?  Shall I be able to
bring him back any more?  I shall go to him rather:  but he shall not
return to me.
12:24. And David comforted Bethsabee his wife, and went in unto her,
and slept with her:  and she bore a son, and he called his name Solomon,
and the Lord loved him.
12:25. And he sent by the hand of Nathan the prophet, and called his
name, Amiable to the Lord, because the Lord loved him.
Amiable to the Lord. . .Or, beloved of the Lord.  In Hebrew, Jedidiah.
12:26. And Joab fought against Rabbath of the children of Ammon, and
laid close siege to the royal city.
12:27. And Joab sent messengers to David, saying:  I have fought against
Rabbath, and the city of waters is about to be taken.
The city of waters. . .Rabbath the royal city of the Ammonites, was
called the city of waters, from being encompassed with waters.
12:28. Now therefore gather thou the rest of the people together, and
besiege the city and take it:  lest when the city shall be wasted by me,
the victory be ascribed to my name.
12:29. Then David gathered all the people together, and went out
against Rabbath:  and after fighting, he took it.
12:30. And he took the crown of their king from his head, the weight of
which was a talent of gold, set with most precious stones, and it was
put upon David's head, and the spoils of the city which were very great
he carried away.
12:31. And bringing forth the people thereof he sawed them, and drove
over them chariots armed with iron:  and divided them with knives, and
made them pass through brickkilns:  so did he to all the cities of the
children of Ammon:  and David returned, with all the army to Jerusalem.
2 Kings Chapter 13
Ammon ravisheth Thamar.  For which Absalom killeth him, and flieth to
13:1. And it came to pass after this that Ammon the son of David loved
the sister of Absalom the son of David, who was very beautiful, and her
name was Thamar.
13:2. And he was exceedingly fond of her, so that he fell sick for the
love of her:  for as she was a virgin, he thought it hard to do any
thing dishonestly with her.
13:3. Now Ammon had a friend, named Jonadab the son of Semmaa the
brother of David, a very wise man:
A very wise man. . .That is, a crafty and subtle man:  for the counsel he
gave on this occasion shews that his wisdom was but carnal and worldly.
13:4. And he said to him:  Why dost thou grow so lean from day to day, O
son of the king?  why dost thou not tell me the reason of it?  And Ammon
said to him:  I am in love with Thamar the sister of my brother Absalom.
13:5. And Jonadab said to him:  Lie down upon thy bed, and feign thyself
sick:  and when thy father shall come to visit thee, say to him:  Let my
sister Thamar, I pray thee, come to me, to give me to eat, and to make
me a mess, that I may eat it at her hand.
13:6. So Ammon lay down, and made as if he were sick:  and when the king
came to visit him, Ammon said to the king:  I pray thee let my sister
Thamar come, and make in my sight two little messes, that I may eat at
13:7. Then David sent home to Thamar, saying:  Come to the house of thy
brother Ammon, and make him a mess.
13:8. And Thamar came to the house of Ammon her brother:  but he was
laid down:  and she took meal and tempered it:  and dissolving it in his
sight she made little messes.
13:9. And taking what she had boiled, she poured it out, and set it
before him, but he would not eat:  and Ammon said:  Put out all persons
from me.  And when they had put all persons out,
13:10. Ammon said to Thamar:  Bring the mess into the chamber, that I
may eat at thy hand.  And Thamar took the little messes which she had
made, and brought them in to her brother Ammon in the chamber.
13:11. And when she had presented him the meat, he took hold of her,
and said:  Come lie with me, my sister.
13:12. She answered him:  Do not so, my brother, do not force me:  for no
such thing must be done in Israel.  Do not thou this folly.
13:13. For I shall not be able to bear my shame, and thou shalt be as
one of the fools in Israel:  but rather speak to the king, and he will
not deny me to thee.
13:14. But he would not hearken to her prayers, but being stronger
overpowered her and lay with her.
13:15. Then Ammon hated her with an exceeding great hatred:  so that the
hatred wherewith he hated her was greater than the love with which he
had loved her before.  And Ammon said to her:  Arise, and get thee gone.
13:16. She answered him:  The evil which now thou dost against me, in
driving me away, is greater than that which thou didst before.  And he
would not hearken to her:
13:17. But calling the servants that ministered to him, he said:  Thrust
this woman out from me:  and shut the door after her.
13:18. And she was clothed with a long robe:  for the king's daughters
that were virgins, used such kind of garments.  Then his servant thrust
her out:  and shut the door after her.
13:19. And she put ashes on her head, and rent her long robe and laid
her hands upon her head, and went on crying.
13:20. And Absalom her brother said to her:  Hath thy brother Ammon lain
with thee?  but now, sister, hold thy peace, he is thy brother:  and
afflict not thy heart for this thing.  So Thamar remained pining away in
the house of Absalom her brother.
13:21. And when king David heard of these things he was exceedingly
grieved:  and he would not afflict the spirit of his son Ammon, for he
loved him, because he was his firstborn.
13:22. But Absalom spoke not to Ammon neither good nor evil:  for
Absalom hated Ammon because he had ravished his sister Thamar.
13:23. And it came to pass after two years, that the sheep of Absalom
were shorn in Baalhasor, which is near Ephraim:  and Absalom invited all
the king's sons:
13:24. And he came to the king, and said to him:  Behold thy servant's
sheep are shorn.  Let the king, I pray, with his servants come to his
13:25. And the king said to Absalom:  Nay, my son, do not ask that we
should all come, and be chargeable to thee.  And when he pressed him,
and he would not go, he blessed him.
13:26. And Absalom said:  If thou wilt not come, at least let my brother
Ammon, I beseech thee, come with us.  And the king said to him:  It is
not necessary that he should go with thee.
13:27. But Absalom pressed him, so that he let Ammon and all the king's
sons go with him.  And Absalom made a feast as it were the feast of a
13:28. And Absalom had commanded his servants, saying:  Take notice when
Ammon shall be drunk with wine, and when I shall say to you:  Strike
him, and kill him, fear not:  for it is I that command you:  take
courage, and be valiant men.
13:29. And the servants of Absalom did to Ammon as Absalom had
commanded them.  And all the king's sons arose and got up every man upon
his mule, and fled.
13:30. And while they were yet in the way, a rumour came to David,
saying:  Absalom hath slain all the king's sons, and there is not one
13:31. Then the king rose up, and rent his garments:  and fell upon the
ground, and all his servants, that stood about him, rent their
13:32. But Jonadab the son of Semmaa David's brother answering, said:
Let not my lord the king think that all the king's sons are slain:
Ammon only is dead, for he was appointed by the mouth of Absalom from
the day that he ravished his sister Thamar.
13:33. Now therefore let not my lord the king take this thing into his
heart, saying:  All the king's sons are slain:  for Ammon only is dead.
13:34. But Absalom fled away:  and the young man that kept the watch,
lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold there came much people by a
by-way on the side of the mountain.
13:35. And Jonadab said to the king:  Behold the king's sons are come:
as thy servant said, so it is.
13:36. And when he made an end of speaking, the king's sons also
appeared:  and coming in they lifted up their voice, and wept:  and the
king also and all his servants wept very much.
13:37. But Absalom fled, and went to Tholomai the son of Ammiud the
king of Gessur.  And David mourned for his son every day.
13:38. And Absalom after he was fled, and come into Gessur, was there
three years.  And king David ceased to pursue after Absalom, because he
was comforted concerning the death of Ammon.
2 Kings Chapter 14
Joab procureth Absalom's return, and his admittance to the king's
14:1. And Joab the son of Sarvia, understanding that the king's heart
was turned to Absalom,
14:2. Sent to Thecua, and fetched from thence a wise woman:  and said to
her:  Feign thyself to be a mourner, and put on mourning apparel, and be
not anointed with oil, that thou mayest be as a woman that had a long
time been mourning for one dead.
14:3. And thou shalt go in to the king, and shalt speak to him in this
manner.  And Joab put the words in her mouth.
14:4. And when the woman of Thecua was come in to the king, she fell
before him upon the ground, and worshipped, and said:  Save me, O king.
14:5. And the king said to her:  What is the matter with thee?  She
answered:  Alas, I am a widow woman:  for my husband is dead.
14:6. And thy handmaid had two sons:  and they quarrelled with each
other in the field, and there was none to part them:  and the one struck
the other, and slew him.
14:7. And behold the whole kindred rising against thy handmaid, saith:
Deliver him that hath slain his brother, that we may kill him for the
life of his brother, whom he slew, and that we may destroy the heir:
and they seek to quench my spark which is left, and will leave my
husband no name, nor remainder upon the earth.
14:8. And the king said to the woman:  Go to thy house, and I will give
charge concerning thee.
14:9. And the woman of Thecua said to the king:  Upon me, my lord be the
iniquity, and upon the house of my father:  but may the king and his
throne be guiltless.
14:10. And the king said:  If any one shall say ought against thee,
bring him to me, and he shall not touch thee any more.
14:11. And she said:  Let the king remember the Lord his God, that the
next of kin be not multiplied to take revenge, and that they may not
kill my son.  And he said:  As the Lord liveth, there shall not one hair
of thy son fall to the earth.
14:12. The woman said:  Let thy hand maid speak one word to my lord the
king.  And he said:  Speak.
14:13. And the woman said:  Why hast thou thought such a thing against
the people of God, and why hath the king spoken this word, to sin, and
not bring home again his own exile?
14:14. We all die, and like waters that return no more, we fall down
into the earth:  neither will God have a soul to perish, but recalleth,
meaning that he that is cast off should not altogether perish.
14:15. Now therefore I am come, to speak this word to my lord the king
before the people.  And thy handmaid said:  I will speak to the king, it
maybe the king will perform the request of his handmaid.
14:16. And the king hath hearkened to me to deliver his handmaid out of
the hand of all that would destroy me and my son together out of the
inheritance of God.
14:17. Then let thy handmaid say, that the word of the Lord the king be
made as a sacrifice.  For even as an angel of God, so is my lord the
king, that he is neither moved with blessing nor cursing:  wherefore the
Lord thy God is also with thee.
14:18. And the king answering, said to the woman:  Hide not from me the
thing that I ask thee.  And the woman said to him:  Speak, my lord the
14:19. And the king said:  Is not the hand of Joab with thee in all
this?  The woman answered, and said:  By the health of thy soul, my lord,
O king, it is neither on the left hand, nor on the right, in all these
things which my lord the king hath spoken:  for thy servant Joab, he
commanded me, and he put all these words into the mouth of thy
14:20. That I should come about with this form of speech, thy servant
Joab commanded this:  but thou, my lord, O king, art wise, according to
the wisdom of an angel of God, to understand all things upon earth.
14:21. And the king said to Joab:  Behold I am appeased and have granted
thy request:  Go therefore and fetch back the boy Absalom.
14:22. And Joab falling down to the ground upon his face, adored, and
blessed the king:  and Joab said:  This day thy servant hath understood,
that I have found grace in thy sight, my lord, O king:  for thou hast
fulfilled the request of thy servant.
Blessed. . .That is, and gave thanks to the king.
14:23. Then Joab arose and went to Gessur, and brought Absalom to
14:24. But the king said:  Let him return into his house, and let him
not see my face.  So Absalom returned into his house, and saw not the
king's face.
14:25. But in all Israel there was not a man so comely, and so
exceedingly beautiful as Absalom:  from the sole of the foot to the
crown of his head there was no blemish in him.
14:26. And when he polled his hair (now he was polled once a year,
because his hair was burdensome to him) he weighed the hair of his head
at two hundred sicles, according to the common weight.
14:27. And there were born to Absalom three sons:  and one daughter,
whose name was Thamar, and she was very beautiful.
14:28. And Absalom dwelt two years in Jerusalem, and saw not the king's
14:29. He sent therefore to Joab, to send him to the king:  but he would
not come to him.  And when he had sent the second time, and he would not
come to him,
14:30. He said to his servants:  You know the field of Joab near my
field, that hath a crop of barley:  go now and set it on fire.  So the
servants of Absalom set the corn on fire.  And Joab's servants coming
with their garments rent, said:  The servants of Absalom have set part
of the field on fire.
14:31. Then Joab arose, and came to Absalom to his house, and said:  Why
have thy servants set my corn on fire?
14:32. And Absalom answered Joab:  I sent to thee beseeching thee to
come to me, that I might send thee to the king, to say to him:
Wherefore am I come from Gessur?  it had been better for me to be there:
I beseech thee therefore that I may see the face of the king:  and if he
be mindful of my iniquity, let him kill me.
14:33. So Joab going in to the king, told him all:  and Absalom was
called for, and, he went in to the king:  and prostrated himself on the
ground before him:  and the king kissed Absalom.
2 Kings Chapter 15
Absalom's policy and conspiracy.  David is obliged to flee.
15:1. Now after these things Absalom made himself chariots, and
horsemen, and fifty men to run before him.
15:2. And Absalom rising up early stood by the entrance of the gate,
and when any man had business to come to the king's judgment, Absalom
called him to him, and said:  Of what city art thou?  He answered, and
said:  Thy servant is of such tribe of Israel.
15:3. And Absalom answered him:  Thy words seem to me good and just.  But
there is no man appointed by the king to hear thee.  And Absalom said:
15:4. O that they would make me judge over the land, that all that have
business might come to me, that I might do them justice.
15:5. Moreover when any man came to him to salute him, he put forth his
hand, and took him, and kissed him.
15:6. And this he did to all Israel that came for judgment, to be heard
by the king, and he enticed the hearts of the men of Israel.
15:7. And after forty years, Absalom said to king David:  Let me go, and
pay my vows which I have vowed to the Lord in Hebron.
15:8. For thy servant made a vow, when he was in Gessur of Syria,
saying:  If the Lord shall bring me again into Jerusalem, I will offer
sacrifice to the Lord.
15:9. And king David said to him:  Go in peace.  And he arose, and went
15:10. And Absalom sent spies into all the tribes of Israel, saying:  As
soon as you shall hear the sound of the trumpet, say ye:  Absalom
reigneth in Hebron.
15:11. Now there went with Absalom two hundred men out of Jerusalem
that were called, going with simplicity of heart, and knowing nothing
of the design.
15:12. Absalom also sent for Achitophel the Gilonite, David's
counsellor, from his city Gilo.  And while he was offering sacrifices,
there was a strong conspiracy, and the people running together
increased with Absalom.
15:13. And there came a messenger to David, saying:  All Israel with
their whole heart followeth Absalom.
15:14. And David said to his servants, that were with him in Jerusalem:
Arise and let us flee:  for we shall not escape else from the face of
Absalom:  make haste to go out, lest he come and overtake us, and bring
ruin upon us, and smite the city with the edge of the sword.
15:15. And the king's servants said to him:  Whatsoever our lord the
king shall command, we thy servants will willingly execute.
15:16. And the king went forth, and all his household on foot:  and the
king left ten women his concubines to keep the house:
Concubines. . .That is, wives of an inferior degree.
15:17. And the king going forth and all Israel on foot, stood afar off
from the house:
15:18. And all his servants walked by him, and the bands of the
Cerethi, and the Phelethi, and all the Gethites, valiant warriors, six
hundred men who had followed him from Geth on foot, went before the
15:19. And the king said to Ethai the Gethite:  Why comest thou with us:
return and dwell with the king, for thou art a stranger, and art come
out of thy own place.
15:20. Yesterday thou camest, and to day shalt thou be forced to go
forth with us?  but I shall go whither I am going:  return thou, and take
back thy brethren with thee, and the Lord will shew thee mercy, and
truth, because thou hast shewn grace and fidelity.
15:21. And Ethai answered the king, saying:  As the Lord liveth, and as
my lord the king liveth:  in what place soever thou shalt be, my lord, O
king, either in death, or in life, there will thy servant be.
15:22. And David said to Ethai:  Come, and pass over.  And Ethai the
Gethite passed, and all the men that were with him, and the rest of the
15:23. And they all wept with a loud voice, and all the people passed
over:  the king also himself went over the brook Cedron, and all the
people marched towards the way that looketh to the desert.
15:24. And Sadoc the priest also came, and all the Levites with him
carrying the ark of the covenant of God, and they set down the ark of
God:  and Abiathar went up, till all the people that was come out of the
city had done passing.
15:25. And the king said to Sadoc:  Carry back the ark of God into the
city:  if I shall find grace in the sight of the Lord, he will bring me
again, and he will shew me it, and his tabernacle.
15:26. But if he shall say to me:  Thou pleasest me not:  I am ready, let
him do that which is good before him.
15:27. And the king said to Sadoc the priest:  O seer, return into the
city in peace:  and let Achimaas thy son, and Jonathan the son of
Abiathar, your two sons, be with you.
15:28. Behold I will lie hid in the plains of the wilderness, till
there come word from you to certify me.
15:29. So Sadoc and Abiathar carried back the ark of God into
Jerusalem:  and they tarried there.
15:30. But David went up by the ascent of mount Olivet, going up and
weeping, walking barefoot, and with his head covered, and all the
people that were with them, went up with their heads covered weeping.
Weeping, etc. . .David on this occasion wept for his sins, which he knew
were the cause of all his sufferings.
15:31. And it was told David that Achitophel also was in the conspiracy
with Absalom, and David said:  Infatuate, O Lord, I beseech thee, the
counsel of Achitophel.
15:32. And when David was come to the top of the mountain, where he was
about to adore the Lord, behold Chusai the Arachite, came to meet him
with his garment rent and his head covered with earth.
15:33. And David said to him:  If thou come with me, thou wilt be a
burden to me:
15:34. But if thou return into the city, and wilt say to Absalom:  I am
thy servant, O king:  as I have been thy father's servant, so I will be
thy servant:  thou shalt defeat the counsel of Achitophel.
15:35. And thou hast with thee Sadoc, and soever thou shalt hear out of
the king's house, thou shalt tell it to Sadoc and Abiathar the priests.
15:36. And there are with them their two sons Achimaas; the son of
Sadoc, and Jonathan the son of Abiathar:  and you shall send by them to
me every thing that you shall hear.
15:37. Then Chusai the friend of David went into the city, and Absalom
came into Jerusalem.
2 Kings Chapter 16
Siba bringeth provisions to David.  Semei curseth him.  Absalom defileth
his father's wives.
16:1. And when David was a little past the top of the hill, behold Siba
the servant of Miphiboseth came to meet him with two asses, laden with
two hundred loaves of bread, and a hundred bunches of raisins, a
hundred cakes of figs, and a vessel of wine.
16:2. And the king said to Siba:  What mean these things?  And Siba
answered:  The asses are for the king's household to sit on:  and the
loaves and the figs for thy servants to eat, and the wine to drink if
any man be faint in the desert.
16:3. And the king said:  Where is thy master's son?  And Siba answered
the king:  He remained in Jerusalem, saying:  To day, will the house of
Israel restore me the kingdom of my father.
16:4. And the king said to Siba:  I give thee all that belonged to
Miphiboseth.  And Siba said:  I beseech thee let me find grace before
thee, my lord, O king.
16:5. And king David came as far as Bahurim:  and behold there came out
from thence a man of the kindred of the house of Saul named Semei, the
son of Gera, and coming out he cursed as he went on,
16:6. And he threw stones at David, and at all the servants of king
David:  and all the people, and all the warriors walked on the right,
and on the left side of the king.
16:7. And thus said Semei when he cursed the king:  Come out, come out,
thou man of blood, and thou man of Belial.
16:8. The Lord hath repaid thee for all the blood of the house of Saul:
because thou hast usurped the kingdom in his stead, and the Lord hath
given the kingdom into the hand of Absalom thy son:  and behold thy
evils press upon thee, because thou art a man of blood.
16:9. And Abisai the son of Sarvia said to the king:  Why should this
dead dog curse my lord the king?  I will go, and cut off his head.
16:10. And the king said:  What have I to do with you, ye sons of
Sarvia?  Let him alone and let him curse:  for the Lord hath bid him
curse David:  and who is he that shall dare say, why hath he done so?
Hath bid him curse. . .Not that the Lord was the author of Semei's sin,
which proceeded purely from his own malice, and the abuse of his free
will.  But that knowing, and suffering his malicious disposition to
break out on this occasion, he made use of him as his instrument to
punish David for his sins.
16:11. And the king said to Abisai, and to all his servants:  Behold my
son, who came forth from my bowels, seeketh my life:  how much more now
a son of Jemini?  let him alone that he may curse as the Lord hath
16:12. Perhaps the Lord may look upon my affliction, and the Lord may
render me good for the cursing of this day.
16:13. And David and his men with him went by the way.  And Semei by the
hill's side went over against him, cursing, and casting stones at him,
and scattering earth.
16:14. And the king and all the people with him came weary, and
refreshed themselves there.
16:15. But Absalom and all his people came into Jerusalem, and
Achitophel was with him.
16:16. And when Chusai the Arachite, David's friend, was come to
Absalom, he said to him:  God save thee, O king, God save thee, O king.
16:17. And Absalom said to him, Is this thy kindness to thy friend?  Why
wentest thou not with thy friend?
16:18. And Chusai answered Absalom:  Nay:  for I will be his, whom the
Lord hath chosen, and all this people, and all Israel, and with him
will I abide.
16:19. Besides this, whom shall I serve?  is it not the king's son?  as I
have served thy father, so will I serve thee also.
16:20. And Absalom said to Achitophel:  Consult what we are to do.
16:21. And Achitophel said to Absalom:  Go in to the concubines of thy
father, whom he hath left to keep the house:  that when all Israel shall
hear that thou hast disgraced thy father, their hands may be
strengthened with thee.
Their hands may be strengthened, etc. . .The people might apprehend lest
Absalom should be reconciled to his father, and therefore they followed
him with some fear of being left in the lurch, till they saw such a
crime committed as seemed to make a reconciliation impossible.
16:22. So they spread a tent for Absalom on the top of the house, and
he went in to his father's concubines before all Israel.
16:23. Now the counsel of Achitophel, which he gave in those days, was
as if a man should consult God:  so was all the counsel of Achitophel,
both when he was with David, and when he was with Absalom.
2 Kings Chapter 17
Achitophel's counsel is defeated by Chusai:  who sendeth intelligence to
David.  Achitophel hangeth himself.
17:1. And Achitophel said to Absalom:  I will choose me twelve thousand
men, and I will arise and pursue after David this night.
17:2. And coming upon him (for he is now weary, and weak handed) I will
defeat him:  and when all the people is put to flight that is with him,
I will kill the king who will be left alone.
17:3. And I will bring back all the people, as if they were but one
man:  for thou seekest but one man:  and all the people shall be in
17:4. And his saying pleased Absalom, and all the ancients of Israel.
17:5. But Absalom said:  Call Chusai the Arachite, and let us hear what
he also saith.
17:6. And when Chusai was come to Absalom, Absalom said to him:
Achitophel hath spoken after this manner:  shall we do it or not?  what
counsel dost thou give?
17:7. And Chusai said to Absalom:  The counsel that Achitophel hath
given this time is not good.
17:8. And again Chusai said:  Thou knowest thy father, and the men that
are with him, that they are very valiant, and bitter in their mind, as
a bear raging in the wood when her whelps are taken away:  and thy
father is a warrior, and will not lodge with the people.
17:9. Perhaps he now lieth hid in pits, or in some other place where he
liest:  and when any one shall fall at the first, every one that heareth
it shall say:  There is a slaughter among the people that followed
17:10. And the most valiant man whose heart is as the heart of a lion,
shall melt for fear:  for all the people of Israel know thy father to be
a valiant man, and that all who are with him are valiant.
17:11. But this seemeth to me to be good counsel:  Let all Israel be
gathered to thee, from Dan to Bersabee, as the sand of the sea which
cannot be numbered:  and thou shalt be in the midst of them.
17:12. And we shall come upon him in what place soever he shall be
found:  and we shall cover him, as the dew falleth upon the ground, and
we shall not leave of the men that are with him, not so much as one.
17:13. And if he shall enter into any city, all Israel shall cast ropes
round about that city, and we will draw it into the river, so that
there shall not be found so much as one small stone thereof.
17:14. And Absalom, and all the men of Israel said:  The counsel of
Chusai the Arachite is better than the counsel of Achitophel:  and by
the will of the Lord the profitable counsel of Achitophel was defeated,
that the Lord might bring evil upon Absalom.
17:15. And Chusai said to Sadoc and Abiathar the priests:  Thus and thus
did Achitophel counsel Absalom, and the ancients of Israel:  and thus
and thus did I counsel them.
17:16. Now therefore send quickly, and tell David, saying:  Tarry not
this night in the plains of the wilderness, but without delay pass
over:  lest the king be swallowed up, and all the people that is with
17:17. And Jonathan and Achimaas stayed by the fountain Rogel:  and
there went a maid and told them:  and they went forward, to carry the
message to king David, for they might not be seen, nor enter into the
17:18. But a certain boy saw them, and told Absalom:  but they making
haste went into the house of a certain man in Bahurim, who had a well
in his court, and they went down into it.
17:19. And a woman took, and spread a covering over the mouth of the
well, as it were to dry sodden barley and so the thing was not known.
17:20. And when Absalom's servants were come into the house, they said
to the woman:  Where is Achimaas and Jonathan?  and the woman answered
them:  They passed on in haste, after they had tasted a little water.
But they that sought them, when they found them not, returned into
17:21. And when they were gone, they came up out of the well, and going
on told king David, and said:  Arise, and pass quickly over the river:
for this manner of counsel has Achitophel given against you.
17:22. So David arose, and all the people that were with him, and they
passed over the Jordan, until it grew light, and not one of them was
left that was not gone ever the river.
17:23. But Achitophel seeing that his counsel was not followed, saddled
his ass, and arose and went home to his house and to his city, and
putting his house in order, hanged himself, and was buried in the
sepulchre of his father.
17:24. But David came to the camp, and Absalom passed over the Jordan,
he and all the men of Israel with him.
To the camp. . .The city of Mahanaim, the name of which, in Hebrew,
signifies The camp.  It was a city of note at that time, as appears from
its having been chosen by Isboseth for the place of his residence.
17:25. Now Absalom appointed Amasa in Joab's stead over the army:  and
Amasa was the son of a man who was called Jethra, of Jezrael, who went
in to Abigail the daughter of Naas, the sister of Sarvia who was the
mother of Joab.
17:26. And Israel camped with Absalom in the land of Galaad.
17:27. And when David was come to the camp, Sobi the son of Naas of
Rabbath of the children of Ammon, and Machir the son of Ammihel of
Lodabar and Berzellai the Galaadite of Rogelim,
17:28. Brought him beds, and tapestry, and earthen vessels, and wheat,
and barley, and meal, and parched corn, and beans, and lentils, and
fried pulse,
17:29. And honey, and butter, and sheep, and fat calves, and they gave
to David and the people that were with him, to eat:  for they suspected
that the people were faint with hunger and thirst in the wilderness.
2 Kings Chapter 18
Absalom is defeated, and slain by Joab.  David mourneth for him.
18:1. And David, having reviewed his people, appointed over them
captains of thousands and of hundreds,
18:2. And sent forth a third part of the people under the hand of Joab,
and a third part under the hand of Abisai the son of Sarvia Joab's
brother, and a third part under the hand of Ethai, who was of Geth:  and
the king said to the people:  I also will go forth with you.
18:3. And the people answered:  Thou shalt not go forth:  for if we flee
away, they will not much mind us:  or if half of us should fall, they
will not greatly care:  for thou alone art accounted for ten thousand:
it is better therefore that thou shouldst be in the city to succour us.
18:4. And the king said to them:  What seemeth good to you, that will I
do.  And the king stood by the gate:  and all the people went forth by
their troops, by hundreds and by thousands.
18:5. And the king commanded Joab, and Abisai, and Ethai, saying:  Save
me the boy Absalom.  And all the people heard the king giving charge to
all the princes concerning Absalom.
18:6. So the people went out into the field against Israel, and the
battle was fought in the forest of Ephraim.
18:7. And the people of Israel were defeated there by David's army, and
a great slaughter was made that day of twenty thousand men.
18:8. And the battle there was scattered over the face of all the
country, and there were many more of the people whom the forest
consumed, than whom the sword devoured that day.
Consumed. . .Viz., by pits and precipices.
18:9. And it happened that Absalom met the servants of David, riding on
a mule:  and as the mule went under a thick and large oak, his head
stuck in the oak:  and while he hung between the heaven and the earth,
the mule on which he rode passed on.
18:10. And one saw this and told Joab, saying:  I saw Absalom hanging
upon an oak.
18:11. And Joab said to the man that told him:  If thou sawest him, why
didst thou not stab him to the ground, and I would have given thee ten
sicles of silver, and a belt?
18:12. And he said to Joab:  If thou wouldst have paid down in my hands
a thousand pieces of silver, I would not lay my hands upon the king's
son for in our hearing the king charged thee, and Abisai, and Ethai,
saying:  Save me the boy Absalom.
18:13. Yea and if I should have acted boldly against my own life, this
could not have been hid from the king, and wouldst thou have stood by
18:14. And Joab said:  Not as thou wilt, but I will set upon him in thy
sight.  So he took three lances in his hand, and thrust them into the
heart of Absalom:  and whilst he yet panted for life, sticking on the
18:15. Ten young men, armourbearers of Joab, ran up, and striking him
18:16. And Joab sounded the trumpet, and kept back the people from
pursuing after Israel in their flight, being willing to spare the
18:17. And they took Absalom, and cast him into a great pit in the
forest, and they laid an exceeding great heap of stones upon him:  but
all Israel fled to their own dwellings.
18:18. Now Absalom had reared up for himself, in his lifetime, a
pillar, which is in the king's valley:  for he said:  I have no son, and
this shall be the monument of my name.  And he called the pillar by his
own name, and it is called the hand of Absalom, to this day.
No son. . .The sons mentioned above, chap. 14.27, were dead when this
pillar was erected:  unless we suppose he raised this pillar before they
18:19. And Achimaas the son of Sadoc said:  I will run and tell the
king, that the Lord hath done judgment for him from the hand of his
18:20. And Joab said to him:  Thou shalt not be the messenger this day,
but shalt bear tidings another day:  this day I will not have thee bear
tidings, because the king's son is dead.
18:21. And Joab said to Chusai:  Go, and tell the king what thou hast
seen.  Chusai bowed down to Joab, and ran.
18:22. Then Achimaas the son of Sadoc said to Joab again:  Why might not
I also run after Chusai?  And Joab said to him:  Why wilt thou run, my
son?  thou wilt not be the bearer of good tidings.
18:23. He answered:  But what if I run?  And he said to him:  Run.  Then
Achimaas running by a nearer way passed Chusai.
18:24. And David sat between the two gates:  and the watchman that was
on the top of the gate upon the wall, lifting up his eyes, saw a man
running alone.
18:25. And crying out he told the king:  and the king said:  If he be
alone, there are good tidings in his mouth.  And as he was coming apace,
and drawing nearer,
18:26. The watchman saw another man running, and crying aloud from
above, he said:  I see another man running alone.  And the king said:  He
also is a good messenger.
18:27. And the watchman said:  The running of the foremost seemeth to me
like the running of Achimaas the son of Sadoc.  And the king said:  He is
a good man:  and cometh with good news.
18:28. And Achimaas crying out, said to the king:  God save thee, O
king.  And falling down before the king with his face to the ground, he
said:  Blessed be the Lord thy God, who hath shut up the men that have
lifted up their hands against the lord my king.
18:29. And the king said:  Is the young man Absalom safe?  And Achimaas
said:  I saw a great tumult, O king, when thy servant Joab sent me thy
servant:  I know nothing else.
18:30. And the king said to him:  Pass, and stand here.
18:31. And when he had passed, and stood still, Chusai appeared and
coming up he said:  I bring good tidings, my lord, the king, for the
Lord hath judged for thee this day from the hand of all that have risen
up against thee.
18:32. And the king said to Chusai:  Is the young man Absalom safe?  And
Chusai answering him, said:  Let the enemies of my lord, the king, and
all that rise against him unto evil, be as the young man is.
18:33. The king therefore being much moved, went up to the high chamber
over the gate, and wept.  And as he went he spoke in this manner:  My son
Absalom, Absalom my son:  would to God that I might die for thee,
Absalom my son, my son Absalom.
Would to God. . .David lamented the death of Absalom, because of the
wretched state in which he died:  and therefore would have been glad to
have saved his life, even by dying for him.  In which he was a figure of
Christ weeping, praying and dying for his rebellious children, and even
for them that crucified him.
2 Kings Chapter 19
David, at the remonstrances of Joab, ceaseth his mourning.  He is
invited back and met by Semei and Miphiboseth:  a strife between the men
of Juda and the men of Israel.
19:1. And it was told Joab, that the king wept and mourned for his son:
19:2. And the victory that day was turned into mourning unto all the
people:  for the people heard say that day:  The king grieveth for his
19:3. And the people shunned the going into the city that day as a
people would do that hath turned their backs, and fled away from the
19:4. And the king covered his head, and cried with a loud voice:  O my
son Absalom, O Absalom my son, O my son.
19:5. Then Joab going into the house to the king, said:  Thou hast
shamed this day the faces of all thy servants, that have saved thy
life, and the lives of thy sons, and of thy daughters, and the lives of
thy wives, and the lives of thy concubines.
19:6. Thou lovest them that hate thee, and thou hatest them that love
thee:  and thou hast shewn this day that thou carest not for thy nobles,
nor for thy servants:  and I now plainly perceive that if Absalom had
lived, and all we had been slain, then it would have pleased thee.
19:7. Now therefore arise, and go out, and speak to the satisfaction of
thy servants:  for I swear to thee by the Lord, that if thou wilt not go
forth, there will not tarry with thee so much as one this night:  and
that will be worse to thee, than all the evils that have befallen thee
from thy youth until now.
19:8. Then the king arose and sat in the gate:  and it was told to all
the people that the king sat in the gate:  and all the people came
before the king, but Israel fled to their own dwellings.
19:9. And all the people were at strife in all the tribes of Israel,
saying:  The king delivered us out of the hand of our enemies, and he
saved us out of the hand of the Philistines:  and now he is fled out of
the land for Absalom.
19:10. But Absalom, whom we anointed over us, is dead in the battle:
how long are you silent, and bring not back the king?
19:11. And king David sent to Sadoc, and Abiathar the priests, saying:
Speak to the ancients of Juda, saying:  Why are you the last to bring
the king back to his house?  (For the talk of all Israel was come to the
king in his house.)
19:12. You are my brethren, you are my bone, and my flesh, why are you
the last to bring back the king?
19:13. And say ye to Amasa:  Art not thou my bone, and my flesh?  So do
God to me and add more, if thou be not the chief captain of the army
before me always in the place of Joab.
19:14. And he inclined the heart of all the men of Juda, as it were of
one man:  and they sent to the king, saying:  Return thou, and all thy
19:15. And the king returned and came as far as the Jordan, and all
Juda came as far as Galgal to meet the king, and to bring him over the
19:16. And Semei the son of Gera the son of Jemini of Bahurim, made
haste and went down with the men of Juda to meet king David,
19:17. With a thousand men of Benjamin, and Siba the servant of the
house of Saul:  and his fifteen sons, and twenty servants were with him:
and going over the Jordan,
19:18.They passed the fords before the king, that they might help over
the king's household, and do according to his commandment.  And Semei
the son of Gera falling down before the king, when he was come over the
19:19. Said to him:  Impute not to me, my lord, the iniquity, nor
remember the injuries of thy servant on the day that thou, my lord, the
king, wentest out of Jerusalem, nor lay it up in thy heart, O king.
19:20. For I thy servant acknowledge my sin:  and therefore I am come
this day the first of all the house of Joseph, and am come down to meet
my lord the king.
19:21. But Abisai the son of Sarvia answering, said:  Shall Semei for
these words not be put to death, because he cursed the Lord's anointed?
19:22. And David said:  What have I to do with you, ye sons of Sarvia?
why are you a satan this day to me?  shall there any man be killed this
day in Israel?  do not I know that this day I am made king over Israel?
19:23. And the king said to Semei:  Thou shalt not die.  And he swore
19:24. And Miphiboseth the son of Saul came down to meet the king, and
he had neither washed his feet, nor trimmed his beard:  nor washed his
garments from the day that the king went out, until the day of his
return in peace.
19:25. And when he met the king at Jerusalem, the king said to him:  Why
camest thou not with me, Miphiboseth?
19:26. And he answering, said:  My lord, O king, my servant despised me:
for I thy servant spoke to him to saddle me an ass, that I might get on
and go with the king:  for I thy servant am lame.
19:27. Moreover he hath also accused me thy servant to thee, my lord
the king:  but thou my lord the king art as an angel of God, do what
pleaseth thee.
19:28. For all of my father's house were no better than worthy of death
before my lord the king; and thou hast set me thy servant among the
guests of thy table:  what just complaint therefore have I?  or what
right to cry any more to the king?
19:29. Then the king said to him:  Why speakest thou any more?  what I
have said is determined:  thou and Siba divide the possessions.
19:30. And Miphiboseth answered the king:  Yea, let him take all,
forasmuch as my lord the king is returned peaceably into his house.
19:31. Berzellai also the Galaadite coming down from Rogelim, brought
the king over the Jordan, being ready also to wait on him beyond the
19:32. Now Berzellai the Galaadite was of a great age, that is to say,
fourscore years old, and he provided the king with sustenance when he
abode in the camp:  for he was a man exceeding rich.
19:33. And the king said to Berzellai:  Come with me that thou mayest
rest secure with me in Jerusalem.
19:34. And Berzellai said to the king:  How many are the days of the
years of my life, that I should go up with the king to Jerusalem?
19:35. I am this day fourscore years old, are my senses quick to
discern sweet and bitter?  or can meat or drink delight thy servant?  or
can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women?  why
should thy servant be a burden to my lord, the king?
19:36. I thy servant will go on a little way from the Jordan with thee:
I need not this recompense.
19:37. But I beseech thee let thy servant return, and die in my own
city, and be buried by the sepulchre of my father, and of my mother.
But there is thy servant Chamaam, let him go with thee, my lord, the
king, and do to him whatsoever seemeth good to thee.
19:38. Then the king said to him:  Let Chamaam go over with me, and I
will do for him whatsoever shall please thee, and all that thou shalt
ask of me, thou shalt obtain.
19:39. And when all the people and the king had passed over the Jordan,
the king kissed Berzellai, and blessed him:  and he returned to his own
19:40. So the king went on to Galgal, and Chamaam with him.  Now all the
people of Juda had brought the king over, and only half of the people
of Israel were there.
19:41. Therefore all the men of Israel running together to the king,
said to him:  Why have our brethren the men of Juda stolen thee away,
and have brought the king and his household over the Jordan, and all
the men of David with him?
19:42. And all the men of Juda answered the men of Israel:  Because the
king is nearer to me:  why art thou angry for this matter?  have we eaten
any thing of the king's, or have any gifts been given us?
19:43. And the men of Israel answered the men of Juda, and said:  I have
ten parts in the king more than thou, and David belongeth to me more
than to thee:  why hast thou done me a wrong, and why was it not told me
first, that I might bring back my king?  And the men of Juda answered
more harshly than the men of Israel.
2 Kings Chapter 20
Seba's rebellion.  Amasa is slain by Joab.  Abela is besieged, but upon
the citizens casting over the wall the head of Seba, Joab departeth
with all his army.
20:1. And there happened to be there a man of Belial, whose name was
Seba, the son of Bochri, a man of Jemini:  and he sounded the trumpet,
and said:  We have no part in David, nor inheritance in the son of Isai:
return to thy dwellings, O Israel.
20:2. And all Israel departed from David, and followed Seba the son of
Bochri:  but the men of Juda stuck to their king from the Jordan unto
20:3. And when the king was come into his house at Jerusalem, he took
the ten women his concubines, whom he had left to keep the house, and
put them inward, allowing them provisions:  and he went not in unto
them, but they were shut up unto the day of their death living in
20:4. And the king said to Amasa:  Assemble to me all the men of Juda
against the third day, and be thou here present.
20:5. So Amasa went to assemble the men of Juda, but he tarried beyond
the set time which the king had appointed him.
20:6. And David said to Abisai:  Now will Seba the son of Bochri do us
more harm than did Absalom:  take thou therefore the servants of thy
lord, and pursue after him, lest he find fenced cities, and escape us.
20:7. So Joab's men went out with him, and the Cerethi and the
Phelethi:  and all the valiant men went out of Jerusalem to pursue after
Seba the son of Bochri.
20:8. And when they were at the great stone which is in Gabaon, Amasa
coming met them.  And Joab had on a close coat of equal length with his
habit, and over it was girded with a sword hanging down to his flank,
in a scabbard, made in such manner as to come out with the least motion
20:9. And Joab said to Amasa:  God save thee, my brother.  And he took
Amasa by the chin with his right hand to kiss him.
20:10. But Amasa did not take notice of the sword, which Joab had, and
he struck him in the side, and shed out his bowels to the ground, and
gave him not a second wound, and he died.  And Joab, and Abisai his
brother pursued after Seba the son of Bochri.
20:11. In the mean time some men of Joab's company stopping at the dead
body of Amasa, said:  Behold he that would have been in Joab's stead the
companion of David.
20:12. And Amasa imbrued with blood, lay in the midst of the way.  A
certain man saw this that all the people stood still to look upon him,
so he removed Amasa out of the highway into the field, and covered him
with a garment, that they who passed might, not stop on his account.
20:13. And when he was removed out of the way, all the people went on
following Joab to pursue after Seba the son of Bochri.
20:14. Now he had passed through all the tribes of Israel unto Abela
and Bethmaacha:  and all the chosen men were gathered together unto him.
Abela and Bethmaacha. . .Cities of the tribe of Nephtali.
20:15. And they came, and besieged him in Abela, and in Bethmaacha, and
they cast up works round the city, and the city was besieged:  and all
the people that were with Joab, laboured to throw down the walls.
20:16. And a wise woman cried out from the city:  Hear, hear, and say to
Joab:  Come near hither, and I will speak with thee.
20:17. And when he was come near to her, she said to him:  Art thou
Joab?  And he answered:  I am.  And she spoke thus to him:  Hear the
words of thy handmaid.  He answered:  I do hear.
20:18. And she again said:  A saying was used in the old proverb:  They
that inquire, let them inquire in Abela:  and so they made an end.
20:19. Am not I she that answer truth in Israel, and thou seekest to
destroy the city, and to overthrow a mother in Israel?  Why wilt thou
throw down the inheritance of the Lord?
20:20. And Joab answering said:  God forbid, God forbid that I should, I
do not throw down, nor destroy.
20:21. The matter is not so, but a man of mount Ephraim, Seba the son
of Bochri by name, hath lifted up his hand against king David:  deliver
him only, and we will depart from the city.  And the woman said to Joab:
Behold his head shall be thrown to thee from the wall.
20:22. So she went to all the people, and spoke to them wisely:  and
they cut off the head of Seba the son of Bochri, and cast it out to
Joab.  And he sounded the trumpet, and they departed from the city,
every one to their home:  and Joab returned to Jerusalem to the king.
20:23. So Joab was over all the army of Israel:  and Banaias the son of
Joiada was over the Cerethites and Phelethites,
20:24. But Aduram over the tributes:  and Josaphat the son of Ahilud was
20:25. And Siva was scribe:  and Sadoc and Abiathar, priests.
20:26. And Ira the Jairite was the priest of David.
2 Kings Chapter 21
A famine of three years, for the sin of Saul against the Gabaonites, at
whose desire seven of Saul's race are crucified.  War again with the
Philistines.
21:1. And there was a famine in the days of David for three years
successively:  and David consulted the oracle of the Lord.  And the Lord
said:  It is for Saul, and his bloody house, because he slow the
21:2. Then the king, calling for the Gabaonites, said to them:  (Now the
Gabaonites were not of the children of Israel, but the remains of the
Amorrhites:  and the children of Israel had sworn to them, and Saul
sought to slay them out of zeal, as it were for the children of Israel
21:3. David therefore said to the Gabaonites:  What shall I do for you?
and what shall be the atonement or you, that you may bless the
inheritance of the Lord?
21:4. And the Gabaonites said to him:  We have no contest about silver
and gold, but against Saul and against his house:  neither do we desire
that any man be slain of Israel.  And the king said to them:  What will
you then that I should do for you?
21:5. And they said to the king:  The man that crushed us and oppressed
us unjustly, we must destroy in such manner that there be not so much
as one left of his stock in all the coasts of Israel.
21:6. Let seven men of his children be delivered unto us, that we may
crucify them to the Lord in Gabaa of Saul, once the chosen of the Lord.
And the king said:  I will give them.
21:7. And the king spared Miphiboseth the son of Jonathan the son of
Saul, because of the oath of the Lord, that had been between David and
Jonathan the son of Saul.
21:8. So the king took the two sons of Respha the daughter of Aia, whom
she bore to Saul, Armoni, and Miphiboseth:  and the five sons of Michol
the daughter of Saul, whom she bore to Hadriel the son of Berzellai,
that was of Molathi:
Of Michol. . .They were the sons of Merob, who was married to Hadriel:
but they are here called the sons of Michol, because she adopted them,
and brought them up as her own.
21:9. And gave them into the hands of the Gabaonites:  and they
crucified them on a hill before the Lord:  and these seven died together
in the first days of the harvest, when the barley began to be reaped.
21:10. And Respha the daughter of Aia took haircloth, and spread it
under her upon the rock from the beginning of the harvest, till water
dropped upon them out of heaven:  and suffered neither the birds to tear
them by day, nor the beasts by night.
21:11. And it was told David, what Respha the daughter of Aia, the
concubine of Saul, had done.
21:12. And David went, and took the bones of Saul, and the bones of
Jonathan his son from the men of Jabes Galaad, who had stolen them from
the street of Bethsan, where the Philistines had hanged them when they
had slain Saul in Gelboe.
21:13. And he brought from thence the bones of Saul, and the bones of
Jonathan his son, and they gathered up the bones of them that were
21:14. And they buried them with the bones of Saul, and of Jonathan his
son in the land of Benjamin, in the side, in the sepulchre of Cis his
father:  and they did all that the king had commanded, and God shewed
mercy again to the land after these things.
21:15. And the Philistines made war again against Israel, and David
went down, and his servants with him, and fought against the
Philistines.  And David growing faint,
21:16. Jesbibenob, who was of the race of Arapha, the iron of whose
spear weighed three hundred ounces, being girded with a new sword,
attempted to kill David.
21:17. And Abisai the son of Sarvia rescued him, and striking the
Philistine killed him.  Then David's men swore unto him saying:  Thou
shalt go no more out with us to battle, lest thou put out the lamp of
21:18. There was also a second battle in Gob against the Philistines:
then Sobochai of Husathi slew Saph of the race of Arapha of the family
of the giants.
21:19. And there was a third battle in Gob against the Philistines, in
which Adeodatus the son of the Forrest an embroiderer of Bethlehem slew
Goliath the Gethite, the shaft of whose spear was like a weaver's beam.
Adeodatus the son of the Forrest. . .So it is rendered in the Latin
Vulgate, by giving the interpretation of the Hebrew names, which are
Elhanan the son of Jaare.
21:20. A fourth battle was in Geth:  where there was a man of great
stature, that had six fingers on each hand, and six toes on each foot,
four and twenty in all, and he was of the race of Arapha.
21:21. And he reproached Israel:  and Jonathan the son of Samae the
brother of David slew him.
21:22. These four were born of Arapha in Geth, and they fell by the
hand of David, and of his servants.
2 Kings Chapter 22
King David's psalm of thanksgiving for his deliverance from all his
22:1. And David spoke to the Lord the words of this canticle, in the
day that the Lord delivered him out of the hand of all his enemies, and
out of the hand of Saul,
22:2. And he said:  The Lord is my rock, and my strength, and my
22:3. God is my strong one, in him will I trust:  my shield, and the
horn of my salvation:  he lifteth me up, and is my refuge:  my saviour,
thou wilt deliver me from iniquity.
22:4. I will call on the Lord who is worthy to be praised:  and I shall
be saved from my enemies.
22:5. For the pangs of death have surrounded me:  the floods of Belial
have made me afraid.
22:6. The cords of hell compassed me:  the snares of death prevented me.
22:7. In my distress I will call upon the Lord, and I will cry to my
God:  and he will hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry shall come
to his ears.
22:8. The earth shook and trembled, the foundations of the mountains
were moved, and shaken, because he was angry with them.
22:9. A smoke went up from his nostrils, and a devouring fire out of
his mouth:  coals were kindled by it.
22:10. He bowed the heavens, and came down:  and darkness was under his
22:11. And he rode upon the cherubims, and flew:  and slid upon the
wings of the wind.
22:12. He made darkness a covering round about him:  dropping waters out
of the clouds of the heavens.
22:13. By the brightness before him, the coals of fire were kindled.
22:14. The Lord shall thunder from heaven:  and the most high shall give
forth his voice.
22:15. He shot arrows and scattered them:  lightning, and consumed them.
22:16. And the overflowings of the sea appeared, and the foundations of
the world were laid open at the rebuke of the Lord, at the blast of the
spirit of his wrath.
22:17. He sent from on high, and took me, and drew me out of many
22:18. He delivered me from my most mighty enemy, and from them that
hated me:  for they were too strong for me.
22:19. He prevented me in the day of my affliction, and the Lord became
22:20. And he brought me forth into a large place, he delivered me,
because I pleased him.
22:21. The Lord will reward me according to my justice:  and according
to the cleanness of my hands he will render to me.
22:22. Because I have kept the ways of the Lord, and have not wickedly
departed from my God.
22:23. For all his judgments are in my sight:  and his precepts I have
not removed from me.
22:24. And I shall be perfect with him:  and shall keep myself from my
22:25. And the Lord will recompense me according to my justice:  and
according to the cleanness of my hands in the sight of his eyes.
22:26. With the holy one thou wilt be holy:  and with the valiant
22:27. With the elect thou wilt be elect:  and with the perverse thou
wilt be perverted.
22:28. And the poor people thou wilt save:  and with thy eyes thou shalt
humble the haughty.
22:29. For thou art my lamp O Lord:  and thou, O Lord, wilt enlighten my
22:30. For in thee I will run girded:  in my God I will leap over the
22:31. God, his way is immaculate, the word of the Lord is tried by
fire:  he is the shield of all that trust in him.
22:32. Who is God but the Lord:  and who is strong but our God?
22:33. God who hath girded me with strength, and made my way perfect.
22:34. Making my feet like the feet of harts, and setting me upon my
high places.
22:35. He teacheth my hands to war:  and maketh my arms like a bow of
22:36. Thou hast given me the shield of my salvation:  and thy mildness
hath multiplied me.
22:37. Thou shalt enlarge my steps under me:  and my ankles shall not
22:38. I will pursue after my enemies, and crush them:  and will not
return again till I consume them.
22:39. I will consume them and break them in pieces, so that they shall
not rise:  they shall fall under my feet.
22:40. Thou hast girded me with strength to battle:  thou hast made them
that resisted me to bow under me.
22:41. My enemies thou hast made to turn their back to me:  them that
hated me, and I shall destroy them.
22:42. They shall cry, and there shall be none to save:  to the Lord,
and he shall not hear them.
22:43. I shall beat them as small as the dust of the earth:  I shall
crush them and spread them abroad like the mire of the streets.
22:44. Thou wilt save me from the contradictions of my people:  thou
wilt keep me to be the head of the Gentiles:  the people which I know
not, shall serve me,
22:45. The sons of the stranger will resist me, at the hearing of the
ear they will obey me.
22:46. The strangers are melted away, and shall be straitened in their
22:47. The Lord liveth, and my God is blessed:  and the strong God of my
salvation shall be exalted:
22:48. God who giveth me revenge, and bringest down people under me,
22:49. Who bringest me forth from my enemies, and liftest me up from
them that resist me:  from the wicked man thou shalt deliver me.
22:50. Therefore will I give thanks to thee, O Lord, among the
Gentiles, and will sing to thy name.
22:51. Giving great salvation to his king, and shewing mercy to David
his anointed, and to his seed for ever.
2 Kings Chapter 23
The last words of David.  A catalogue of his valiant men.
23:1. Now these are David's last words.  David the son of Isai said:  The
man to whom it was appointed concerning the Christ of the God of Jacob,
the excellent psalmist of Israel said:
23:2. The spirit of the Lord hath spoken by me and his word by my
23:3. The God of Israel said to me, the strong one of Israel spoke, the
ruler of men, the just ruler in the fear of God.
23:4. As the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, shineth in the
morning without clouds, and as the grass springeth out of the earth by
As the light, etc. . .So shall be the kingdom of Christ.
23:5. Neither is my house so great with God, that he should make with
me an eternal covenant, firm in all things and assured.  For he is all
my salvation, and all my will:  neither is there ought thereof that
springeth not up.
Neither is my house, etc. . .As if he should say:  This everlasting
covenant was not due to my house:  but purely owing to his bounty; who
is all my salvation, and my will:  that is, who hath always saved me,
and granted me what I beseeched of him; so that I and my house, through
his blessing, have sprung up, and succeeded in all things.
23:6. But transgressors shall all of them be plucked up as thorns:
which are not taken away with hands.
23:7. And if a man will touch them, he must be armed with iron and with
the staff of a lance:  but they shall be set on fire and burnt to
23:8. These are the names of the valiant men of David:  Jesbaham sitting
in the chair was the wisest chief among the three, he was like the most
tender little worm of the wood, who killed eight hundred men at one
Jesbaham. . .The son of Hachamoni.  For this was the name of this hero,
as appears from 1 Chron. or Paralip. 11.--Ibid.  Most tender, etc. . .He
appeared like one tender and weak, but was indeed most valiant and
strong.  It seems the Latin has here given the interpretation of the
Hebrew name of the hero, to whom Jesbaham was like, instead of the name
itself, which was Adino the Eznite, one much renowned of old for his
23:9. After him was Eleazar the son of Dodo the Ahohite, one of the
three valiant men that were with David when they defied the
Philistines, and they were there gathered together to battle.
Dodo. . .In Latin, Patrui ejus, which is the interpretation of the
Hebrew name Dodo.  The same occurs in ver. 24.
23:10. And when the men of Israel were gone away, he stood and smote
the Philistines till his hand was weary, and grew stiff with the sword:
and the Lord wrought a great victory that day:  and the people that were
fled away, returned to take spoils of them that were slain.
23:11. And after him was Semma the son of Age of Arari.  And the
Philistines were gathered together in a troop:  for there was a field
full of lentils.  And when the people were fled from the face of the
Philistines,
23:12. He stood in the midst of the field, and defended it, and
defeated the Philistines:  and the Lord gave a great victory.
23:13. Moreover also before this the three who were princes among the
thirty, went down and came to David in the harvest time into the cave
of Odollam:  and the camp of the Philistines was in the valley of the
23:14. And David was then in a hold:  and there was a garrison of the
Philistines then in Bethlehem.
23:15. And David longed, and said:  O that some man would get me a drink
of the water out of the cistern, that is in Bethlehem, by the gate.
23:16. And the three valiant men broke through the camp of the
Philistines, and drew water out of the cistern of Bethlehem, that was
by the gate, and brought it to David:  but he would not drink, but
offered it to the Lord,
23:17. Saying:  The Lord be merciful to me, that I may not do this:
shall I drink the blood of these men that went, and the peril of their
lives?  therefore he would not drink.  These things did these three
23:18. Abisai also the brother of Joab, the son of Sarvia, was chief
among three:  and he lifted up his spear against three hundred whom he
slew, and he was renowned among the three,
23:19. And the noblest of three, and was their chief, but to the three
first he attained not.
23:20. And Banaias the son of Joiada a most valiant man, of great
deeds, of Cabseel:  he slew the two lions of Moab, and he went down, and
slew a lion in the midst of a pit, in the time of snow.
23:21. He also slew an Egyptian, a man worthy to be a sight, having a
spear in his hand:  but he went down to him with a rod, and forced the
spear out of the hand of the Egyptian, and slew him with his own spear.
23:22. These things did Banaias the son of Joiada.
23:23. And he was renowned among the three valiant men, who were the
most honourable among the thirty:  but he attained not to the first
three:  and David made him of his privy council.
23:24. Asael the brother of Joab was one of the thirty, Elehanan the
son of Dodo of Bethlehem.
23:25. Semma of Harodi, Elica of Harodi,
23:26. Heles of Phalti, Hira the son of Acces of Thecua,
23:27. Abiezer of Anathoth, Mobonnai of Husati,
23:28. Selmon the Ahohite, Maharai the Netophathite,
23:29. Heled the son of Baana, also a Netophathite, Ithai the son of
Ribai of Gabaath of the children of Benjamin,
23:30. Banaia the Pharathonite, Heddai of the torrent Gaas,
23:31. Abialbon the Arbathite, Azmaveth of Beromi,
23:32. Eliaba of Salaboni.  The sons of Jassen, Jonathan,
23:33. Semma of Orori, Aliam the son of Sarar the Arorite,
23:34. Eliphelet the son of Aasbai the son of Machati, Eliam the son of
Achitophel the Gelonite,
23:35. Hesrai of Carmel, Pharai of Arbi,
23:36. Igaal the son of Nathan of Soba, Bonni of Gadi,
23:37. Selec of Ammoni, Naharai the Berothite, armourbearer of Joab the
son of Sarvia,
23:38. Ira the Jethrite, Gareb also a Jethrite;
23:39. Urias the Hethite, thirty and seven in all.
2 Kings Chapter 24
David numbereth the people:  God sendeth a pestilence, which is stopt by
David's prayer and sacrifice.
24:1. And the anger of the Lord was again kindled against Israel, and
stirred up David among them, saying:  Go, number Israel and Juda.
Stirred up, etc. . .This stirring up was not the doing of God, but of
Satan; as it is expressly declared, 1 Chron. or Paralip. 21.1.
24:2. And the king said to Joab the general of his army:  Go through all
the tribes of Israel from Dan to Bersabee, and number ye the people
that I may know the number of them.
24:3. And Joab said to the king:  The Lord thy God increase thy people,
and make them as many more as they are now, and again multiply them a
hundredfold in the sight of my lord the king:  but what meaneth my lord
the king by this kind of thing?
24:4. But the king's words prevailed over the words of Joab, and of the
captains of the army:  and Joab, and the captains of the soldiers went
out from the presence of the king, to number the people of Israel.
24:5. And when they had passed the Jordan, they came to Aroer to the
right side of the city, which is in the vale of Gad.
24:6. And by Jazer they passed into Galaad, and to the lower land of
Hodsi, and they came into the woodlands of Dan.  And going about by
24:7. They passed near the walls of Tyre, and all the land of the
Hevite, and the Chanaanite, and they came to the south of Juda into
24:8. And having gone through the whole land, after nine months and
twenty days, they came to Jerusalem.
24:9. And Joab gave up the sum of the number of the people to the king,
and there were found of Israel eight hundred thousand valiant men that
drew the sword:  and of Juda five hundred thousand fighting men.
24:10. But David's heart struck him, after the people were numbered:
and David said to the Lord:  I have sinned very much in what I have
done:  but I pray thee, O Lord, to take away the iniquity of thy
servant, because I have done exceeding foolishly.
David's heart struck him, after the people were numbered. . .That is he
was touched with a great remorse for the vanity and pride which had put
him upon numbering the people.
24:11. And David arose in the morning, and the word of the Lord came to
Gad the prophet and the seer of David, saying:
24:12. Go, and say to David:  Thus saith the Lord:  I give thee thy
choice of three things, choose one of them which thou wilt, that I may
do it to thee.
24:13. And when Gad was come to David, he told him, saying:  Either
seven years of famine shall come to thee in thy land:  or thou shalt
flee three months before thy adversaries, and they shall pursue thee:
or for three days there shall be a pestilence in thy land.  Now
therefore deliberate, and see what answer I shall return to him that
24:14. And David said to Gad:  I am in a great strait:  but it is better
that I should fall into the hands of the Lord (for his mercies are
many) than into the hands of men.
24:15. And the Lord sent a pestilence upon Israel, from the morning
unto the time appointed, and there died of the people from Dan to
Bersabee seventy thousand men.
24:16. And when the angel of the Lord had stretched out his hand over
Jerusalem to destroy it, the Lord had pity on the affliction, and said
to the angel that slew the people:  It is enough:  now hold thy hand.
And the angel of the Lord was by the thrashingfloor of Areuna the
24:17. And David said to the Lord, when he saw the angel striking the
people:  It is I; I am he that have sinned, I have done wickedly:  these
that are the sheep, what have they done?  let thy hand, I beseech thee,
be turned against me, and against my father's house.
24:18. And Gad came to David that day, and said:  Go up, and build an
altar to the Lord in the thrashingfloor of Areuna the Jebusite.
24:19. And David went up according to the word of Gad which the Lord
had commanded him.
24:20. And Areuna looked, and saw the king and his servants coming
towards him:
24:21. And going out he worshipped the king, bowing with his face to
the earth, and said:  Wherefore is my lord the king come to his servant?
And David said to him:  To buy the thrashingfloor of thee, and build an
altar to the Lord, that the plague, which rageth among the people, may
24:22. And Areuna said to David:  Let my lord the king take, and offer,
as it seemeth good to him:  thou hast here oxen for a holocaust, and the
wain, and the yokes of the oxen for wood.
24:23. All these things Areuna as a king gave to the king:  and Areuna
said to the king:  The Lord thy God receive thy vow.
24:24. And the king answered him, and said:  Nay, but I will buy it of
thee, at a price, and I will not offer to the Lord my God holocausts
free cost.  So David bought the floor, and the oxen, for fifty sicles of
24:25. And David built there an altar to the Lord, and offered
holocausts and peace offerings:  and the Lord became merciful to the
land, and the plague was stayed from Israel.
THE THIRD BOOK OF KINGS
This and the following Book are called by the holy fathers the third
and fourth book of Kings; but by the Hebrews, the first and second.
They contain the history of the kingdoms of Israel and Juda, from the
beginning of the reign of Solomon, to the captivity.  As to the writer
of these books, it seems most probable they were not written by one
man; nor at one time; but as there was all along a succession of
prophets in Israel, who recorded, by divine inspiration, the most
remarkable things that happened in their days, these books seem to have
been written by these prophets.  See 2 Paralip. alias 2 Chron. 9.29;
12.15; 13.22; 20.34; 26.22; 32.32.
3 Kings Chapter 1
King David growing old, Abisag a Sunamitess is brought to him.  Adonias
pretending to reign, Nathan and Bethsabee obtain that Solomon should be
declared and anointed king.
1:1. Now king David was old, and advanced in years:  and when he was
covered with clothes he was not warm.
1:2. His servants therefore, said to him:  Let us seek for our Lord the
king, a young virgin, and let her stand before the king, and cherish
him, and sleep in his bosom and warm our lord the king.
1:3. So they sought a beautiful young woman, in all the coasts of
Israel and they found Abisag, a Sunamitess, and brought her to the
1:4. And the damsel was exceedingly beautiful, and she slept with the
king, and served him, but the king did not know her.
1:5. And Adonias, the son of Haggith, exalted himself, saying:  I will
be king.  And he made himself chariots and horsemen, and fifty men to
run before him.
1:6. Neither did his father rebuke him at any time, saying:  Why hast
thou done this?  And he also was very beautiful, the next in birth after
1:7. And he conferred with Joab, the son of Sarvia, and with Abiathar,
the priest, who furthered Adonias's side.
1:8. But Sadoc, the priest, and Banaias, the son of Joiada, and Nathan,
the prophet, and Semei, and Rei, and the strength of David's army, was
not with Adonias.
1:9. And Adonias having slain rams and calves, and all fat cattle, by
the stone of Zoheleth, which was near the fountain Rogel, invited all
his brethren, the king's sons, and all the men of Juda, the king's
1:10. But Nathan, the prophet, and Banaias, and all the valiant men,
and Solomon, his brother, he invited not.
1:11. And Nathan said to Bethsabee, the mother of Solomon:  Hast thou
not heard that Adonias, the son of Haggith, reigneth, and our lord
David knoweth it not?
1:12. Now then, come, take my counsel, and save thy life, and the life
of thy son Solomon.
1:13. Go, and get thee in to king David, and say to him:  Didst not
thou, my lord, O king, swear to me, thy handmaid, saying:  Solomon, thy
son, shall reign after me, and he shall sit on my throne?  why then doth
Adonias reign?
1:14. And while thou art yet speaking there with the king, I will come
in after thee, and will fill up thy words.
1:15. So Bethsabee went in to the king into the chamber.  Now the king
was very old, and Abisag, the Sunamitess, ministered to him.
1:16. Bethsabee bowed herself, and worshipped the king.  And the king
said to her:  What is thy will?
1:17. She answered, and said:  My lord, thou didst swear to thy
handmaid, by the Lord thy God, saying:  Solomon, thy son, shall reign
after me, and he shall sit on my throne.
1:18. And behold, now Adonias reigneth, and thou, my lord the king,
knowest nothing of it.
1:19. He hath killed oxen, and all fat cattle, and many rams, and
invited all the king's sons, and Abiathar, the priest, and Joab, the
general of the army:  but Solomon, thy servant, he invited not.
1:20. And now, my lord, O king, the eyes of all Israel are upon thee,
that thou shouldst tell them, who shall sit on thy throne, my lord the
king, after thee.
1:21. Otherwise it shall come to pass, when my lord the king sleepeth
with his fathers, that I, and my son, Solomon, shall be accounted
1:22. As she was yet speaking with the king, Nathan, the prophet, came.
1:23. And they told the king, saying:  Nathan, the prophet, is here.  And
when he was come in before the king, and had worshipped, bowing down to
1:24. Nathan said:  My lord, O king, hast thou said:  Let Adonias reign
after me, and let him sit upon my throne?
1:25. Because he is gone down to day, and hath killed oxen, and
fatlings, and many rams, and invited all the king's sons, and the
captains of the army, and Abiathar the priest:  and they are eating and
drinking before him, and saying:  God save king Adonias:
1:26. But me, thy servant, and Sadoc, the priest, and Banaias, the son
of Joiada, and Solomon, thy servant, he hath not invited.
1:27. Is this word come out from my lord the king, and hast thou not
told me, thy servant, who should sit on the throne of my lord the king
1:28. And king David answered, and said:  Call to me Bethsabee.  And when
she was come in to the king, and stood before him,
1:29. The king swore, and said:  As the Lord liveth, who hath delivered
my soul out of all distress,
1:30. Even as I swore to thee, by the Lord, the God of Israel, saying:
Solomon thy son, shall reign after me, and he shall sit upon my throne
in my stead, so will I do this day.
1:31. And Bethsabee, bowing with her face to the earth, worshipped the
king, saying:  May my lord David live for ever.
1:32. King David also said:  Call me Sadoc, the priest, and Nathan, the
prophet, and Banaias, the son of Joiada.  And when they were come in
before the king,
1:33. He said to them:  Take with you the servants of your lord, and set
my son Solomon upon my mule:  and bring him to Gihon:
1:34. And let Sadoc, the priest, and Nathan, the prophet, anoint him
there king over Israel:  and you shall sound the trumpet, and shall say:
God save king Solomon.
1:35. And you shall come up after him, and he shall come, and shall sit
upon my throne, and he shall reign in my stead:  and I will appoint him
to be ruler over Israel, and over Juda.
1:36. And Banaias, the son of Joiada, answered the king, saying:  Amen:
so say the Lord, the God of my lord the king.
1:37. As the Lord hath been with my lord the king, so be he with
Solomon, and make his throne higher than the throne of my lord king
1:38. So Sadoc, the priest, and Nathan, the prophet, went down, and
Banaias, the son of Joiada, and the Cerethi, and Phelethi:  and they set
Solomon upon the mule of king David, and brought him to Gihon.
1:39. And Sadoc, the priest, took a horn of oil out of the tabernacle,
and anointed Solomon:  and they sounded the trumpet, and all the people
said:  God save king Solomon.
1:40. And all the multitude went up after him, and the people played
with pipes, and rejoiced with a great joy, and the earth rang with the
noise of their cry.
1:41. And Adonias, and all that were invited by him, heard it, and now
the feast was at an end.  Joab also, hearing the sound of the trumpet,
said:  What meaneth this noise of the city in an uproar?
1:42. While he yet spoke, Jonathan, the son of Abiathar, the priest,
came:  and Adonias said to him:  Come in, because thou art a valiant man,
and bringest good news.
1:43. And Jonathan answered Adonias:  Not so:  for our lord, king David,
hath appointed Solomon king;
1:44. And hath sent with him Sadoc, the priest, and Nathan, the
prophet, and Banaias, the son of Joiada, and the Cerethi, and the
Phelethi, and they have set him upon the king's mule:
1:45. And Sadoc, the priest, and Nathan, the prophet, have anointed him
king, in Gihon:  and they are gone up from thence rejoicing, so that the
city rang again:  this is the noise that you have heard.
1:46. Moreover, Solomon sitteth upon the throne of the kingdom.
1:47. And the king's servants going in, have blessed our lord king
David, saying:  May God make the name of Solomon greater than thy name,
and make his throne greater than thy throne.  And the king adored in his
1:48. And he said:  Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who hath
given this day one to sit on my throne, my eyes seeing it.
1:49. Then all the guests of Adonias were afraid, and they all arose,
and every man went his way.
1:50. And Adonias fearing Solomon, arose and went, and took hold of the
horn of the altar.
1:51. And they told Solomon, saying:  Behold Adonias fearing king
Solomon, hath taken hold of the horn of the altar, saying:  Let king
Solomon swear to me this day, that he will not kill his servant with
1:52. And Solomon said:  If he be a good man, there shall not so much as
one hair of his head fall to the ground:  but if evil be found in him,
he shall die.
1:53. Then king Solomon sent, and brought him out from the altar:  and
going in, he worshipped king Solomon:  and Solomon said to him:  Go to
3 Kings Chapter 2
David, after giving his last charge to Solomon, dieth.  Adonias is put
to death:  Abiathar is banished:  Joab and Semei are slain.
1:1. And the days of David drew nigh that he should die, and he charged
his son Solomon, saying:
2:2. I am going the way of all flesh:  take thou courage and shew
thyself a man.
2:3. And keep the charge of the Lord thy God, to walk in his ways, and
observe his ceremonies, and his precepts, and judgments, and
testimonies, as it is written in the law of Moses:  that thou mayst
understand all thou dost, and whithersoever thou shalt turn thyself:
2:4. That the Lord may confirm his words, which he hath spoken of me,
saying:  If thy children shall take heed to their ways, and shall walk
before me in truth, with all their heart, and with all their soul,
there shall not be taken away from thee a man on the throne of Israel.
2:5. Thou knowest also what Joab, the son of Sarvia, hath done to me,
what he did to the two captains of the army of Israel, to Abner, the
son of Ner, and to Amasa, the son of Jether:  whom he slew, and shed the
blood of war in peace, and put the blood of war on his girdle that was
about his loins, and in his shoes that were on his feet.
Joab. . .These instructions given by David to his son, with relation to
Joab and Semei, proceeded not from any rancour of heart, or private
pique; but from a zeal for justice, that crimes so public and heinous
might not pass unpunished.
2:6. Do, therefore, according to thy wisdom, and let not his hoary head
go down to hell in peace.
To hell. . .This word hell doth not here signify the place or state of
damnation; but the place and state of the dead.
2:7. But shew kindness to the sons of Berzellai, the Galaadite, and let
them eat at thy table:  for they met me when I fled from the face of
Absalom, thy brother.
2:8. Thou hast also with thee Semei, the son of Gera, the son of
Jemini, of Bahurim, who cursed me with a grievous curse, when I went to
the camp:  but because he came down to meet me when I passed over the
Jordan, and I swore to him by the Lord, saying:  I will not kill thee
with the sword:
2:9. Do not thou hold him guiltless.  But thou art a wise man, and
knowest what to do with him, and thou shalt bring down his grey hairs
with blood to the grave.
2:10. So David slept with his fathers, and was buried in the city of
2:11. And the days that David reigned in Israel, were forty years:  in
Hebron he reigned seven years, in Jerusalem thirty-three.
2:12. And Solomon sat upon the throne of his father David, and his
kingdom was strengthened exceedingly.
2:13. And Adonias, the son of Haggith, came to Bethsabee the mother of
Solomon.  And she said to him:  Is thy coming peaceable?  He answered:
It is peaceable.
2:14. And he added:  I have a word to speak with thee.  She said to him:
Speak.  And he said:
2:15. Thou knowest that the kingdom was mine, and all Israel had
preferred me to be their king:  but the kingdom is transferred, and is
become my brother's:  for it was appointed him by the Lord.
2:16. Now therefore, I ask one petition of thee; turn not away my face.
And she said to him:  Say on.
2:17. And he said I pray thee speak to king Solomon (for he cannot deny
thee any thing) to give me Abisag, the Sunamitess, to wife.
2:18. And Bethsabee said:  Well, I will speak for thee to the king.
2:19. Then Bethsabee came to king Solomon, to speak to him for Adonias:
and the king arose to meet her, and bowed to her, and sat down upon his
throne:  and a throne was set for the king's mother, and she sat on his
2:20. And she said to him:  I desire one small petition of thee; do not
put me to confusion.  And the king said to her:  My mother ask, for I
must not turn away thy face.
2:21. And she said:  Let Abisag, the Sunamitess, be given to Adonias,
thy brother, to wife.
2:22. And king Solomon answered, and said to his mother:  Why dost thou
ask Abisag, the Sunamitess, for Adonias?  ask for him also the kingdom;
for he is my elder brother, and hath Abiathar, the priest, and Joab,
the son of Sarvia.
2:23. Then king Solomon swore by the Lord, saying:  So and so may God do
to me, and add more, if Adonias hath not spoken this word against his
2:24. And now, as the Lord liveth, who hath established me, and placed
me upon the throne of David, my father, and who hath made me a house,
as he promised, Adonias shall be put to death this day.
2:25. And king Solomon sent by the hand of Banaias, the son of Joiada,
who slew him, and he died.
2:26. And the king said also to Abiathar, the priest:  Go to Anathoth,
to thy lands, for indeed thou art worthy of death:  but I will not at
this time put thee to death, because thou didst carry the ark of the
Lord God before David, my father, and hast endured trouble in all the
troubles my father endured.
2:27. So Solomon cast out Abiathar from being the priest of the Lord,
that the word of the Lord might be fulfilled, which he spoke concerning
the house of Heli in Silo.
2:28. And the news came to Joab, because Joab had turned after Adonias,
and had not turned after Solomon:  and Joab fled into the tabernacle of
the Lord, and took hold on the horn of the altar.
2:29. And it was told king Solomon, that Joab was fled into the
tabernacle of the Lord, and was by the altar:  and Solomon sent Banaias,
the son of Joiada, saying.  Go, kill him.
2:30. And Banaias came to the tabernacle of the Lord, and said to him:
Thus saith the king:  Come forth.  And he said:  I will not come forth,
but here I will die.  Banaias brought word back to the king, saying:
Thus saith Joab, and thus he answered me.
2:31. And the king said to him:  Do as he hath said; and kill him, and
bury him, and thou shalt remove the innocent blood which hath been shed
by Joab, from me, and from the house of my father:
2:32. And the Lord shall return his blood upon his own head; because he
murdered two men, just and better than himself:  and slew them with the
sword, my father, David, not knowing it; Abner, the son of Ner, general
of the army of Israel, and Amasa, the son of Jether general of the army
2:33. And their blood shall return upon the head of Joab, and upon the
head of his seed for ever.  But to David and his seed, and his house,
and to his throne, be peace for ever from the Lord.
2:34. So Banaias, the son of Joiada, went up, and setting upon him slew
him, and he was buried in his house in the desert.
2:35. And the king appointed Banaias, the son of Joiada in his room
over the army; and Sadoc, the priest, he put in the place of Abiathar.
2:36. The king also sent, and called for Semei, and said to him:  Build
thee a house in Jerusalem, and dwell there:  and go not out from thence
2:37. For on what day soever thou shalt go out, and shalt pass over the
brook Cedron, know that thou shalt be put to death:  thy blood shall be
upon thy own head.
2:38. And Semei said to the king:  The saying is good:  as my lord the
king hath said, so will thy servant do.  And Semei dwelt in Jerusalem
2:39. And it came to pass after three years, that the servants of Semei
ran away to Achis, the son of Maacha, the king of Geth:  and it was told
Semei that his servants were gone to Geth.
2:40. And Semei arose, and saddled his ass, and went to Achis, to Geth,
to seek his servants, and he brought them out of Geth.
2:41. And it was told Solomon, that Semei had gone from Jerusalem to
Geth, and was come back.
2:42. And sending he called for him, and said to him:  Did I not protest
to thee by the Lord, and tell thee before:  On what day soever thou
shalt go out and walk abroad any where, know that thou shalt die?  And
thou answeredst me:  The word that I have heard is good.
2:43. Why then hast thou not kept the oath of the Lord, and the
commandment that I laid upon thee?
2:44. And the king said to Semei:  Thou knowest all the evil, of which
thy heart is conscious, which thou didst to David, my father:  the Lord
hath returned thy wickedness upon thy own head.
2:45. And king Solomon shall be blessed, and the throne of David shall
be established before the Lord for ever.
2:46. So the king commanded Banaias, the son of Joiada:  and he went out
and struck him; and he died.
3 Kings Chapter 3
Solomon marrieth Pharao's daughter.  He sacrificeth in Gabaon:  in the
choice which God gave him he preferreth wisdom.  His wise judgment
between the two harlots.
3:1. And the kingdom was established in the hand of Solomon, and he
made affinity with Pharao, the king of Egypt:  for he took his daughter,
and brought her into the city of David:  until he had made an end of
building his own house, and the house of the Lord, and the wall of
Jerusalem round about.
3:2. But yet the people sacrificed in the high places:  for there was no
temple built to the name of the Lord until that day.
High places. . .That is, altars where they worshipped the Lord, but not
according to the ordinance of the law; which allowed of no other places
for sacrifice but the temple of God.  Among these high places that of
Gabaon was the chiefest, because there was the tabernacle of the
testimony, which had been removed from Silo to Nobe and from Nobe to
3:3. And Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the precepts of David, his
father; only he sacrificed in the high places, and burnt incense.
3:4. He went therefore to Gabaon, to sacrifice there:  for that was the
great high place:  a thousand victims for holocausts, did Solomon offer
upon that altar, in Gabaon.
3:5. And the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night, saying:  Ask
what thou wilt that I should give thee.
3:6. And Solomon said:  Thou hast shewed great mercy to thy servant
David, my father, even as he walked before thee in truth, and justice,
and an upright heart with thee:  and thou hast kept thy great mercy for
him, and hast given him a son to sit on his throne, as it is this day.
3:7. And now, O Lord God, thou hast made thy servant king instead of
David, my father:  and I am but a child, and know not how to go out and
3:8. And thy servant is in the midst of the people which thou hast
chosen, an immense people, which cannot be numbered nor counted for
3:9. Give therefore to thy servant an understanding heart, to judge thy
people, and discern between good and evil.  For who shall be able to
judge this people, thy people, which is so numerous?
3:10. And the word was pleasing to the Lord, that Solomon had asked
such a thing.
3:11. And the Lord said to Solomon:  Because thou hast asked this thing,
and hast not asked for thyself long life nor riches, nor the lives of
thy enemies, but hast asked for thyself wisdom to discern judgment;
3:12. Behold I have done for thee according to thy words, and have
given thee a wise and understanding heart, in so much that there hath
been no one like thee before thee, nor shall arise after thee.
3:13. Yea, and the things also which thou didst not ask, I have given
thee; to wit, riches and glory:  so that no one hath been like thee
among the kings in all days heretofore.
3:14. And if thou wilt walk in my ways, and keep my precepts and my
commandments, as thy father walked, I will lengthen thy days.
3:15. And Solomon awaked, and perceived that it was a dream:  and when
he was come to Jerusalem, he stood before the ark of the covenant of
the Lord, and offered holocausts, and sacrificed victims of peace
offerings, and made a great feast for all his servants.
3:16. Then there came two women that were harlots, to the king, and
stood before him.
3:17. And one of them said:  I beseech thee, my lord, I and this woman
dwelt in one house, and I was delivered of a child with her in the
3:18. And the third day after I was delivered, she also was delivered;
and we were together, and no other person with us in the house; only we
3:19. And this woman's child died in the night:  for in her sleep she
overlaid him.
3:20. And rising in the dead time of the night, she took my child from
my side, while I, thy handmaid, was asleep, and laid it in her bosom:
and laid her dead child in my bosom.
3:21. And when I arose in the morning, to give my child suck, behold it
was dead:  but considering him more diligently, when it was clear day, I
found that it was not mine which I bore.
3:22. And the other woman answered:  It is not so as thou sayest, but
thy child is dead, and mine is alive.  On the contrary, she said; Thou
liest:  for my child liveth, and thy child is dead.  And in this manner
they strove before the king.
3:23. Then said the king:  The one saith, My child is alive, and thy
child is dead.  And the other answereth:  Nay; but thy child is dead, and
mine liveth.
3:24. The king therefore said:  Bring me a sword.  And when they had
brought a sword before the king,
3:25. Divide, said he, the living child in two, and give half to the
one and half to the other.
3:26. But the woman, whose child was alive, said to the king; (for her
bowels were moved upon her child) I beseech thee, my lord, give her the
child alive, and do not kill it.  But the other said:  Let it be neither
mine nor thine; but divide it.
3:27. The king answered, and said:  Give the living child to this woman,
and let it not be killed; for she is the mother thereof.
3:28. And all Israel heard the judgment which the king had judged, and
they feared the king, seeing that the wisdom of God was in him to do
3 Kings Chapter 4
Solomon's chief officers.  His riches and wisdom.
4:1. And king Solomon reigned over all Israel:
4:2. And these were the princes which he had:  Azarias, the son of
Sadoc, the priest:
4:3. Elihoreph, and Ahia, the sons of Sisa, scribes:  Josaphat, the son
of Ahilud, recorder:
4:4. Banaias, the son of Joiada, over the army:  and Sadoc, and
Abiathar, priests.
Abiathar. . .By this it appears that Abiathar was not altogether deposed
from the high priesthood; but only banished to his country house, and
by that means excluded from the exercise of his functions.
4:5. Azarias, the son of Nathan, over them that were about the king:
Zabud, the son of Nathan, the priest, the king's friend:
4:6. And Ahisar, governor of the house:  and Adoniram, the son of Abda,
over the tribute.
4:7. And Solomon had twelve governors over all Israel, who provided
victuals for the king and for his house hold:  for every one provided
necessaries, each man his month in the year.
4:8. And these are their names:  Benhur, in mount Ephraim.
4:9. Bendecar, in Macces, and in Salebim, and in Bethsames, and in
Elon, and in Bethanan.
4:10. Benhesed, in Aruboth:  his was Socho, and all the land of Epher.
4:11. Benabinadab, to whom belonged all Nephath-Dor:  he had Tapheth,
the daughter of Solomon, to wife.
4:12. Bana, the son of Ahilud, who governed Thanac, and Mageddo, and
all Bethsan, which is by Sarthana, beneath Jezrael, from Bethsan unto
Abelmehula, over against Jecmaan.
4:13. Bengaber, in Ramoth Galaad:  he had the town of Jair, the son of
Manasses, in Galaad:  he was chief in all the country of Argob, which is
in Basan, threescore great cities with walls, and brazen bolts.
4:14. Ahinadab, the son of Addo, was chief in Manaim.
4:15. Achimaas, in Nephthali:  he also had Basemath, the daughter of
Solomon, to wife.
4:16. Baana, the son of Husi, in Aser, and in Baloth.
4:17. Josaphat, the son of Pharue, in Issachar.
4:18. Semei, the son of Ela, in Benjamin.
4:19. Gaber, the son of Uri, in the land of Galaad, in the land of
Sehon, the king of the Amorrhites, and of Og, the king of Basan, over
all that were in that land.
4:20. Juda and Israel were innumerable, as the sand of the sea in
multitude; eating and drinking, and rejoicing.
4:21. And Solomon had under him all the kingdoms, from the river to the
land of the Philistines, even to the border of Egypt:  and they brought
him presents, and served him all the days of his life.
The river. . .Euphrates.
4:22. And the provision of Solomon, for each day, was thirty measures
of fine flour, and threescore measures of meal;
4:23. Ten fat oxen, and twenty out of the pastures, and a hundred rams;
besides venison of harts, roes, and buffles, and fatted fowls.
4:24. For he had all the country which was beyond the river, from
Thaphsa to Gazan, and all the kings of those countries:  and he had
peace on every side round about.
4:25. And Juda, and Israel, dwelt without any fear, every one under his
vine, and under his fig tree, from Dan to Bersabee, all the days of
4:26. And Solomon had forty thousand stalls of chariot horses, and
twelve thousand for the saddle.
4:27. And the foresaid governors of the king fed them; and they
furnished the necessaries also for king Solomon's table, with great
care, in their time.
4:28. They brought barley also, and straw for the horses and beasts, to
the place where the king was, according as it was appointed them.
4:29. And God gave to Solomon wisdom, and understanding exceeding much,
and largeness of heart, as the sand that is on the sea shore.
4:30. And the wisdom of Solomon surpassed the wisdom of all the
Orientals, and of the Egyptians;
4:31. And he was wiser than all men:  wiser than Ethan, the Ezrahite,
and Heman, and Chalcol, and Dorda, the sons of Mahol, and he was
renowned in all nations round about.
4:32. Solomon also spoke three thousand parables:  and his poems were a
thousand and five.
Three thousand parables, etc. . .These works are all lost, excepting
some part of the parables extant in the book of Proverbs; and his chief
poem called the Canticle of Canticles.
4:33. And he treated about trees, from the cedar that is in Libanus,
unto the hyssop that cometh out of the wall:  and he discoursed of
beasts, and of fowls, and of creeping things, and of fishes.
4:34. And they came from all nations to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and
from all the kings of the earth, who heard of his wisdom.
3 Kings Chapter 5
Hiram king of Tyre agreeth to furnish timber and workmen for building
the temple:  the number of workmen and overseers.
5:1. And Hiram, king of Tyre, sent his servants to Solomon:  for he
heard that they had anointed him king in the room of his father:  for
Hiram had always been David's friend.
5:2. Solomon sent to Hiram, saying:
5:3. Thou knowest the will of David, my father, and that he could not
build a house to the name of the Lord his God, because of the wars that
were round about him, until the Lord put them under the soles of his
5:4. But now the Lord my God hath given me rest round about; and there
is no adversary nor evil occurrence.
5:5. Wherefore I purpose to build a temple to the name of the Lord my
God, as the Lord spoke to David my father, saying:  Thy son, whom I will
set upon the throne, in thy place, he shall build a house to my name.
5:6. Give orders, therefore, that thy servants cut me down cedar trees,
out of Libanus, and let my servants be with thy servants:  and I will
give thee the hire of thy servants whatsoever thou wilt ask:  for thou
knowest how there is not among my people a man that has skill to hew
wood like to the Sidonians.
5:7. Now when Hiram had heard the words of Solomon, he rejoiced
exceedingly, and said:  Blessed be the Lord God this day, who hath given
to David a very wise son over this numerous people.
5:8. And Hiram sent to Solomon, saying:  I have heard all thou hast
desired of me; and I will do all thy desire concerning cedar trees, and
5:9. My servants shall bring them down from Libanus to the sea:  and I
will put them together in floats, on the sea, and convey them to the
place, which thou shalt signify to me, and will land them there, and
thou shalt receive them:  and thou shalt allow me necessaries to furnish
food for my household.
5:10. So Hiram gave Solomon cedar trees, and fir trees, according to
all his desire.
5:11. And Solomon allowed Hiram twenty thousand measures of wheat, for
provision for his house, and twenty measures of the purest oil:  thus
gave Solomon to Hiram every year.
5:12. And the Lord gave wisdom to Solomon, as he promised him:  and
there was peace between Hiram and Solomon, and they two made a league
5:13. And king Solomon chose workmen out of all Israel, and the levy
was of thirty thousand men.
5:14. And he sent them to Libanus, ten thousand every month, by turns,
so that two months they were at home:  and Adoniram was over this levy.
5:15. And Solomon had seventy thousand to carry burdens, and eighty
thousand to hew stones in the mountain:
5:16. Besides the overseers who were over every work, in number three
thousand and three hundred, that ruled over the people, and them that
did the work.
5:17. And the king commanded that they should bring great stones,
costly stones, for the foundation of the temple, and should square
5:18. And the masons of Solomon, and the masons of Hiram, hewed them:
and the Giblians prepared timber and stones to build the house.
3 Kings Chapter 6
The building of Solomon's temple.
6:1. And it came to pass in the four hundred and eightieth year after
the children of Israel came out of the land of Egypt, in the fourth
year of the reign of Solomon over Israel, in the month Zio, (the same
is the second month) he began to build a house to the Lord.
6:2. And the house, which king Solomon built to the Lord, was
threescore cubits in length, and twenty cubits in breadth, and thirty
cubits in height.
6:3. And there was a porch before the temple, of twenty cubits in
length, according to the measure of the breadth of the temple:  and it
was ten cubits in breadth, before the face of the temple.
6:4. And he made in the temple oblique windows.
6:5. And upon the wall of the temple, he built floors round about, in
the walls of the house, round about the temple and the oracle, and he
made chambers in the sides round about.
Upon the wall, i. e., joining to the wall.--Ibid.  He built floors round
about. . .Chambers or cells adjoining to the temple, for the use of the
temple and of the priests, so contrived as to be between the inward and
outward wall of the temple, in three stories, one above another.--Ibid.
The oracle. . .The inner temple or holy of holies, where God gave his
6:6. The floor that was underneath was five cubits in breadth, and the
middle floor was six cubits in breadth, and the third floor was seven
cubits in breadth.  And he put beams in the house round about on the
outside, that they might not be fastened in the walls of the temple.
6:7. And the house, when it was in building, was built of stones, hewed
and made ready:  so that there was neither hammer nor axe, nor any tool
of iron heard in the house when it was in building.
Made ready, etc. . .So the stones for the building of God's eternal
temple in the heavenly Jerusalem, (who are the faithful,) must first be
hewn and polished here by many trials and sufferings, before they can
be admitted to have a place in that celestial structure.
6:8. The door, for the middle side, was on the right hand of the house:
and by winding stairs they went up to the middle room, and from the
middle to the third.
6:9. So he built the house, and finished it:  and he covered the house
with roofs of cedar.
6:10. And he built a floor over all the house, five cubits in height,
and he covered the house with timber of cedar.
6:11. And the word of the Lord came to Solomon,
6:12. As for this house, which thou art building, if thou wilt walk in
my statutes, and execute my judgments, and keep all my commandments,
walking in them, I will fulfil my word to thee, which I spoke to David
6:13. And I will dwell in the midst of the children of Israel, and I
will not forsake my people Israel.
6:14. So Solomon built the house, and finished it.
6:15. And he built the walls of the house on the inside, with boards of
cedar, from the floor of the house to the top of the walls, and to the
roofs, he covered it with boards of cedar on the inside:  and he covered
the floor of the house with planks of fir.
6:16. And he built up twenty cubits with boards of cedar at the hinder
part of the temple, from the floor to the top:  and made the inner house
of the oracle to be the holy of holies.
6:17. And the temple itself, before the doors of the oracle, was forty
cubits long.
6:18. And all the house was covered within with cedar, having the
turnings, and the joints thereof artfully wrought, and carvings
projecting out:  all was covered with boards of cedar:  and no stone
could be seen in the wall at all.
6:19. And he made the oracle in the midst of the house, in the inner
part, to set there the ark of the covenant of the Lord.
6:20. Now the oracle was twenty cubits in length, and twenty cubits in
breadth, and twenty cubits in height.  And he covered it, and overlaid
it with most pure gold.  And the altar also he covered with cedar.
6:21. And the house before the oracle he overlaid with most pure gold,
and fastened on the plates with nails of gold.
6:22. And there was nothing in the temple that was not covered with
gold:  the whole altar of the oracle he covered also with gold.
6:23. And he made in the oracle two cherubims of olive tree, of ten
cubits in height.
6:24. One wing of the cherub was five cubits, and the other wing of the
cherub was five cubits:  that is, in all ten cubits, from the extremity
of one wing to the extremity of the other wing.
6:25. The second cherub also was ten cubits:  and the measure, and the
work was the same in both the cherubims:
6:26. That is to say, one cherub was ten cubits high, and in like
manner the other cherub.
6:27. And he set the cherubims in the midst of the inner temple:  and
the cherubims stretched forth their wings, and the wing of the one
touched one wall, and the wing of the other cherub touched the other
wall:  and the other wings in the midst of the temple touched one
6:28. And he overlaid the cherubims with gold.
6:29. And all the walls of the temple round about he carved with divers
figures and carvings:  and he made in them cherubims and palm trees, and
divers representations, as it were standing out, and coming forth from
6:30. And the floor of the house he also overlaid with gold within and
6:31. And in the entrance of the oracle, he made little doors of olive
tree, and posts of five corners,
6:32. And two doors of olive tree:  and he carved upon them figures of
cherubims, and figures of palm trees, and carvings very much
projecting; and he overlaid them with gold:  and he covered both the
cherubims and the palm trees, and the other things, with gold.
6:33. And he made in the entrance of the temple posts of olive tree
6:34. And two doors of fir tree, one of each side:  and each door was
double, and so opened with folding leaves.
6:35. And he carved cherubims, and palm trees, and carved work standing
very much out:  and he overlaid all with golden plates in square work by
6:36. And he built the inner court with three rows of polished stones,
and one row of beams of cedar.
6:37. In the fourth year was the house of the Lord founded, in the
6:38. And in the eleventh year, in the month Bul.  (which is the eighth
month) the house was finished in all the works thereof, and in all the
appurtenances thereof:  and he was seven years in building it.
3 Kings Chapter 7
Solomon's palace, his house in the forest, and the queen's house:  the
work of the two pillars:  the sea (or laver) and other vessels.
7:1. And Solomon built his own house in thirteen years, and brought it
to perfection.
7:2. He built also the house of the forest of Libanus; the length of it
was a hundred cubits, and the breadth fifty cubits, and the height
thirty cubits:  and four galleries between pillars of cedar:  for he had
cut cedar trees into pillars.
7:3. And he covered the whole vault with boards of cedar, and it was
held up with five and forty pillars.  And one row had fifteen pillars,
7:4. Set one against another,
7:5. And looking one upon another, with equal space between the
pillars, and over the pillars were square beams in all things equal.
7:6. And he made a porch of pillars of fifty cubits in length, and
thirty cubits in breadth:  and another porch before the greater porch,
and pillars, and chapiters upon the pillars.
7:7. He made also the porch of the throne wherein is the seat of
judgment; and covered it with cedar wood from the floor to the top.
7:8. And in the midst of the porch, was a small house, where he sat in
judgment of the like work.  He made also a house for the daughter of
Pharao (whom Solomon had taken to wife) of the same work, as this
7:9. All of costly stones, which were sawed by a certain rule and
measure, both within and without:  from the foundation to the top of the
walls, and without, unto the great court.
7:10. And the foundations were of costly stones, great stones of ten
cubits or eight cubits.
7:11. And above there were costly stones of equal measure hewed, and in
like manner planks of cedar.
7:12. And the great court was made round with three rows of hewed
stones, and one row of planks of cedar, which also was observed in the
inner court of the house of the Lord, and in the porch of the house.
7:13. And king Solomon sent, and brought Hiram from Tyre,
7:14. The son of a widow woman, of the tribe of Nephthali, whose father
was a Tyrian, an artificer in brass, and full of wisdom, and
understanding, and skill to work all work in brass.  And when he was
come to king Solomon, he wrought all his work.
7:15. And he cast two pillars in brass, each pillar was eighteen cubits
high:  and a line of twelve cubits compassed both the pillars.
7:16. He made also two chapiters of molten brass, to be set upon the
tops of the pillars:  the height of one chapiter was five cubits, and
the height of the other chapiter was five cubits:
7:17. And a kind of network, and chain work wreathed together with
wonderful art.  Both the chapiters of the pillars were cast:  seven rows
of nets were on one chapiter, and seven nets on the other chapiter.
7:18. And he made the pillars, and two rows round about each network to
cover the chapiters, that were upon the top, with pomegranates:  and in
like manner did he to the other chapiter.
7:19. And the chapiters that were upon the top of the pillars, were of
lily work, in the porch of four cubits.
7:20. And again there were other chapiters on the top of the pillars
above, according to the measure of the pillar over against the network:
and of pomegranates there were two hundred, in rows round about the
other chapiter.
7:21. And he set up the two pillars in the porch of the temple:  and
when he had set up the pillar on the right hand, he called the name
thereof Jachin:  in like manner he set up the second pillar, and called
the name thereof Booz.
Jachin. . .That is, firmly established.--Ibid.  Booz. . .That is, in its
strength.  By recording these names in holy writ, the spirit of God
would have us understand the invincible firmness and strength of the
pillars on which the true temple of God, which is the church, is
established.
7:22. And upon the tops of the pillars he made lily work:  so the work
of the pillars was finished.
7:23. He made also a molten sea, of ten cubits, from brim to brim,
round all about; the height of it was five cubits, and a line of thirty
cubits compassed it round about.
7:24. And a graven work, under the brim of it, compassed it for ten
cubits going about the sea:  there were two rows cast of chamfered
7:25. And it stood upon twelve oxen, of which three looked towards the
north, and three towards the west, and three towards the south, and
three towards the east:  and the sea was above upon them, and their
hinder parts were all hid within.
7:26. And the laver was a hand breadth thick:  and the brim thereof was
like the brim of a cup, or the leaf of a crisped lily:  it contained two
thousand bates.
Two thousand bates. . .That is, about ten thousand gallons.  This was the
quantity of water which was usually put into it:  but it was capable, if
brimful, of holding three thousand.  See 2 Par. 4.5.
7:27. And he made ten bases of brass, every base was four cubits in
length, and four cubits in breadth, and three cubits high.
7:28. And the work itself of the bases, was intergraven:  and there were
gravings between the joinings.
7:29. And between the little crowns and the ledges, were lions, and
oxen, and cherubims; and in the joinings likewise above:  and under the
lions and oxen, as it were bands of brass hanging down.
7:30. And every base had four wheels, and axletrees of brass:  and at
the four sides were undersetters, under the laver molten, looking one
against another.
7:31. The mouth also of the laver within, was in the top of the
chapiter:  and that which appeared without, was of one cubit all round,
and together it was one cubit and a half:  and in the corners of the
pillars were divers engravings:  and the spaces between the pillars were
square, not round.
7:32. And the four wheels, which were at the four corners of the base,
were joined one to another under the base:  the height of a wheel was a
cubit and a half.
7:33. And they were such wheels as are used to be made in a chariot:
and their axletrees, and spokes, and strakes, and naves, were all cast.
7:34. And the four undersetters, that were at every corner of each
base, were of the base itself, cast and joined together.
7:35. And on the top of the base, there was a round compass of half a
cubit, so wrought that the laver might be set thereon, having its
gravings, and divers sculptures of itself.
7:36. He engraved also in those plates, which were of brass, and in the
corners, cherubims, and lions, and palm trees, in likeness of a man
standing, so that they seemed not to be engraven, but added round
7:37. After this manner, he made ten bases, of one casting and measure,
and the like graving.
7:38. He made also ten lavers of brass:  one laver contained four bates,
and was of four cubits:  and upon every base, in all ten, he put as many
7:39. And he set the ten bases, five on the right side of the temple,
and five on the left:  and the sea he put on the right side of the
temple, over against the east southward.
7:40. And Hiram made cauldrons, and shovels, and basins, and finished
all the work of king Solomon in the temple of the Lord.
7:41. The two pillars and the two cords of the chapiters, upon the
chapiters of the pillars:  and the two networks, to cover the two cords,
that were upon the top of the pillars.
7:42. And four hundred pomegranates for the two networks:  two rows of
pomegranates for each network, to cover the cords of the chapiters,
which were upon the tops of the pillars.
7:43. And the ten bases, and the ten lavers on the bases.
7:44. And one sea, and twelve oxen under the sea.
7:45. And the cauldrons, and the shovels, and the basins.  All the
vessels that Hiram made for king Solomon, for the house of the Lord,
were of fine brass.
7:46. In the plains of the Jordan, did the king cast them in a clay
ground, between Socoth and Sartham.
7:47. And Solomon placed all the vessels:  but for its exceeding great
multitude the brass could not be weighed.
7:48. And Solomon made all the vessels for the house of the Lord:  the
altar of gold, and the table of gold, upon which the loaves of
proposition should be set:
7:49. And the golden candlesticks, five on the right hand, and five on
the left, over against the oracle, of pure gold:  and the flowers like
lilies, and the lamps over them of gold:  and golden snuffers,
7:50. And pots, and fleshhooks, and bowls, and mortars, and censers, of
most pure gold:  and the hinges for the doors of the inner house of the
holy of holies, and for the doors of the house of the temple, were of
7:51. And Solomon finished all the work that he made in the house of
the Lord, and brought in the things that David, his father, had
dedicated, the silver and the gold, and the vessels, and laid them up
in the treasures of the house of the Lord.
3 Kings Chapter 8
The dedication of the temple:  Solomon's prayer and sacrifices.
8:1. Then all the ancients of Israel, with the princes of the tribes,
and the heads of the families of the children of Israel, were assembled
to king Solomon, in Jerusalem:  that they might carry the ark of the
covenant of the Lord, out of the city of David, that is, out of Sion.
8:2. And all Israel assembled themselves to king Solomon, on the
festival day, in the month of Ethanim, the same is the seventh month.
8:3. And all the ancients of Israel came, and the priests took up the
8:4. And carried the ark of the Lord, and the tabernacle of the
covenant, and all the vessels of the sanctuary, that were in the
tabernacle:  and the priests and the Levites carried them.
8:5. And king Solomon, and all the multitude of Israel, that were
assembled unto him, went with him before the ark, and they sacrificed
sheep and oxen, that could not be counted or numbered.
8:6. And the priests brought in the ark of the covenant of the Lord
into its place, into the oracle of the temple, into the holy of holies,
under the wings of the cherubims.
8:7. For the cherubims spread forth their wings over the place of the
ark, and covered the ark, and the staves thereof above.
8:8. And whereas the staves stood out, the ends of them were seen
without, in the sanctuary before the oracle, but were not seen farther
out, and there they have been unto this day.
8:9. Now in the ark there was nothing else but the two tables of stone,
which Moses put there at Horeb, when the Lord made a covenant with the
children of Israel, when they came out of the land of Egypt.
Nothing else, etc. . .There was nothing else but the tables of the law
within the ark:  but on the outside of the ark, or near the ark were
also the rod of Aaron, and a golden urn with manna, Heb. 9.4.
8:10. And it came to pass, when the priests were come out of the
sanctuary, that a cloud filled the house of the Lord,
8:11. And the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud:
for the glory of the Lord had filled the house of the Lord.
8:12. Then Solomon said:  The Lord said that he would dwell in a cloud.
8:13. Building, I have built a house for thy dwelling, to be thy most
firm throne for ever.
8:14. And the king turned his face, and blessed all the assembly of
Israel:  for all the assembly of Israel stood.
8:15. And Solomon said:  Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel, who
spoke with his mouth to David, my father, and with his own hands hath
accomplished it, saying:
8:16. Since the day that I brought my people Israel, out of Egypt, I
chose no city out of all the tribes of Israel, for a house to be built,
that my name might be there:  but I chose David to be over my people
8:17. And David, my father, would have built a house to the name of the
Lord, the God of Israel:
8:18. And the Lord said to David, my father:  Whereas, thou hast thought
in thy heart to build a house to my name, thou hast done well in having
this same thing in thy mind.
8:19. Nevertheless, thou shalt not build me a house, but thy son, that
shall come forth out of thy loins, he shall build a house to my name.
8:20. The Lord hath performed his word which he spoke.  And I stand in
the room of David, my father, and sit upon the throne of Israel, as the
Lord promised:  and have built a house to the name of the Lord, the God
8:21. And I have set there a place for the ark, wherein is the covenant
of the Lord, which he made with our fathers, when they came out of the
land of Egypt.
8:22. And Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord, in the sight of
the assembly of Israel, and spread forth his hands towards heaven,
8:23. And said:  Lord God of Israel, there is no God like thee, in
heaven above, or on the earth beneath:  who keepest covenant and mercy
with thy servants, that have walked before thee with all their heart:
8:24. Who hast kept with thy servant David, my father, what thou hast
promised him:  with thy mouth thou didst speak, and with thy hands thou
hast performed, as this day proveth.
8:25. Now, therefore, O Lord God of Israel, keep with thy servant
David, my father, what thou hast spoken to him, saying:  There shall not
be taken away of thee a man in my sight, to sit on the throne of
Israel:  yet so that thy children take heed to their way, that they walk
before me as thou hast walked in my sight.
8:26. And now, Lord God of Israel, let thy words be established, which
thou hast spoken to thy servant David, my father.
8:27. Is it then to be thought that God should indeed dwell upon earth?
for if heaven, and the heavens of heavens, cannot contain thee, how
much less this house which I have built?
8:28. But have regard to the prayer of thy servant, and to his
supplications, O Lord, my God:  hear the hymn and the prayer, which thy
servant prayeth before thee this day:
8:29. That thy eyes may be open upon this house, night and day:  upon
the house of which thou hast said:  My name shall be there:  that thou
mayst hearken to the prayer which thy servant prayeth, in this place to
8:30. That thou mayst hearken to the supplication of thy servant, and
of thy people Israel, whatsoever they shall pray for in this place, and
hear them in the place of thy dwelling in heaven; and when thou
hearest, shew them mercy.
8:31. If any man trespass against his neighbour, and have an oath upon
him, wherewith he is bound, and come, because of the oath, before thy
altar, to thy house,
8:32. Then hear thou in heaven:  and do and judge thy servants,
condemning the wicked, and bringing his way upon his own head, and
justifying the just, and rewarding him according to his justice.
8:33. If thy people Israel shall fly before their enemies (because they
will sin against thee) and doing penance, and confessing to thy name,
shall come and pray, and make supplications to thee in this house:
8:34. Then hear thou in heaven, and forgive the sin of thy people
Israel, and bring them back to the land which thou gavest to their
8:35. If heaven shall be shut up, and there shall be no rain, because
of their sins, and they, praying in this place, shall do penance to thy
name, and shall be converted from their sins, by occasion of their
afflictions:
8:36. Then hear thou them in heaven, and forgive the sins of thy
servants, and of thy people Israel:  and shew them the good way wherein
they should walk, and give rain upon thy land, which thou hast given to
thy people in possession.
8:37. If a famine arise in the land, or a pestilence, or corrupt air,
or blasting, or locust, or mildew; if their enemy afflict them,
besieging the gates, whatsoever plague, whatsoever infirmity,
8:38. Whatsoever curse or imprecation shall happen to any man of thy
people Israel:  when a man shall know the wound of his own heart, and
shall spread forth his hands in this house;
8:39. Then hear thou in heaven, in the place of thy dwelling, and
forgive, and do so as to give to every one according to his ways, as
thou shalt see his heart (for thou only knowest the heart of all the
children of men)
8:40. That they may fear thee all the days that they live upon the face
of the land, which thou hast given to our fathers.
8:41. Moreover also the stranger, who is not of thy people Israel, when
he shall come out of a far country for thy name's sake, (for they shall
hear every where of thy great name, and thy mighty hand,
8:42. And thy stretched out arm) so when he shall come, and shall pray
in this place,
8:43. Then hear thou in heaven, in the firmament of thy dwelling place,
and do all those things, for which that stranger shall call upon thee:
that all the people of the earth may learn to fear thy name, as do thy
people Israel, and may prove that thy name is called upon on this
house, which I have built.
8:44. If thy people go out to war against their enemies, by what way
soever thou shalt send them, they shall pray to thee towards the way of
the city, which thou hast chosen, and towards the house, which I have
built to thy name:
8:45. And then hear thou in heaven their prayers, and their
supplications, and do judgment for them.
8:46. But if they sin against thee, (for there is no man who sinneth
not) and thou being angry, deliver them up to their enemies, so that
they be led away captives into the land of their enemies, far or near;
8:47. Then if they do penance in their heart, in the place of
captivity, and being converted, make supplication to thee in their
captivity, saying:  We have sinned, we have done unjustly, we have
committed wickedness:
8:48. And return to thee with all their heart, and all their soul, in
the land of their enemies, to which they have been led captives:  and
pray to thee towards the way of their land, which thou gavest to their
fathers, and of the city which thou hast chosen, and of the temple
which I have built to thy name:
8:49. Then hear thou in heaven, in the firmament of thy throne, their
prayers, and their supplications, and do judgment for them:
8:50. And forgive thy people, that have sinned against thee, and all
their iniquities, by which they have transgressed against thee:  and
give them mercy before them that have made them captives, that they may
have compassion on them.
8:51. For they are thy people, and thy inheritance, whom thou hast
brought out of the land of Egypt, from the midst of the furnace of
8:52. That thy eyes may be open to the supplication of thy servant, and
of thy people Israel, to hear them in all things for which they shall
call upon thee.
8:53. For thou hast separated them to thyself for an inheritance, from
amongst all the people of the earth, as thou hast spoken by Moses, thy
servant, when thou broughtest our fathers out of Egypt, O Lord God.
8:54. And it came to pass, when Solomon had made an end of praying all
this prayer and supplication to the Lord, that he rose from before the
altar of the Lord:  for he had fixed both knees on the ground, and had
spread his hands towards heaven.
8:55. And he stood, and blessed all the assembly of Israel with a loud
voice, saying:
8:56. Blessed be the Lord, who hath given rest to his people Israel,
according to all that he promised:  there hath not failed so much as one
word of all the good things that he promised by his servant Moses.
8:57. The Lord our God be with us, as he was with our fathers, and not
leave us, nor cast us off:
8:58. But may he incline our hearts to himself, that we may walk in all
his ways, and keep his commandments, and his ceremonies, and all his
judgments, which he commanded our fathers.
8:59. And let these my words, wherewith I have prayed before the Lord,
be nigh unto the Lord our God day and night, that he may do judgment
for his servant, and for his people Israel, day by day:
8:60. That all the people of the earth may know, that the Lord he is
God, and there is no other besides him.
8:61. Let our hearts also be perfect with the Lord our God, that we may
walk in his statutes, and keep his commandments, as at this day.
8:62. And the king, and all Israel with him, offered victims before the
8:63. And Solomon slew victims of peace offerings, which he sacrificed
to the Lord, two and twenty thousand oxen, and a hundred and twenty
thousand sheep so the king, and all the children of Israel, dedicated
the temple of the Lord.
8:64. In that day the king sanctified the middle of the court, that was
before the house of the Lord for there he offered the holocaust, and
sacrifice, and the fat of the peace offerings:  because the brazen altar
that was before the Lord, was too little to receive the holocaust, and
sacrifice, and the fat of the peace offerings.
8:65. And Solomon made at the same time a solemn feast, and all Israel
with him, a great multitude, from the entrance of Emath to the river of
Egypt, before the Lord our God, seven days and seven days, that is,
fourteen days.
8:66. And on the eighth day, he sent away the people:  and they blessed
the king, and went to their dwellings, rejoicing, and glad in heart,
for all the good things that the Lord had done for David, his servant,
and for Israel, his people.
3 Kings Chapter 9
The Lord appeareth again to Solomon:  he buildeth cities:  he sendeth a
fleet to Ophir.
9:1. And it came to pass when Solomon had finished the building of the
house of the Lord, and the king's house, and all that he desired and
was pleased to do,
9:2. That the Lord appeared to him the second time, as he had appeared
to him in Gabaon.
9:3. And the Lord said to him:  I have heard thy prayer and thy
supplication, which thou hast made before me:  I have sanctified this
house, which thou hast built, to put my name there for ever; and my
eyes, and my heart, shall be there always.
9:4. And if thou wilt walk before me, as thy father walked, in
simplicity of heart, and in uprightness:  and wilt do all that I have
commanded thee, and wilt keep my ordinances, and my judgments,
As thy father walked, in simplicity of heart. . .That is, in the
sincerity and integrity of a single heart, as opposite to all double
dealing and deceit.
9:5. I will establish the throne of thy kingdom over Israel for ever,
as I promised David, thy father, saying:  There shall not fail a man of
thy race upon the throne of Israel.
9:6. But if you and your children, revolting, shall turn away from
following me, and will not keep my commandments, and my ceremonies,
which I have set before you, but will go and worship strange gods, and
9:7. I will take away Israel from the face of the land which I have
given them; and the temple which I have sanctified to my name, I will
cast out of my sight; and Israel shall be a proverb, and a byword among
9:8. And this house shall be made an example of:  every one that shall
pass by it, shall be astonished, and shall hiss, and say:  Why hath the
Lord done thus to this land, and to this house?
9:9. And they shall answer:  Because they forsook the Lord their God,
who brought their fathers out of the land of Egypt, and followed
strange gods, and adored them, and worshipped them:  therefore hath the
Lord brought upon them all this evil.
9:10. And when twenty years were ended, after Solomon had built the two
houses; that is, the house of the Lord, and the house of the king,
9:11. (Hiram, the king of Tyre, furnishing Solomon with cedar trees,
and fir trees, and gold, according to all he had need of) then Solomon
gave Hiram twenty cities in the land of Galilee.
9:12. And Hiram came out of Tyre, to see the towns which Solomon had
given him, and they pleased him not;
9:13. And he said:  Are these the cities which thou hast given me,
brother?  And he called them the land of Chabul, unto this day.
Chabul. . .That is, dirty or displeasing.
9:14. And Hiram sent to king Solomon a hundred and twenty talents of
9:15. This is the sum of the expenses, which king Solomon offered to
build the house of the Lord, and his own house, and Mello, and the wall
of Jerusalem, and Heser, and Mageddo, and Gazer.
9:16. Pharao, the king of Egypt, came up and took Gazer, and burnt it
with fire:  and slew the Chanaanite that dwelt in the city, and gave it
for a dowry to his daughter, Solomon's wife.
9:17. So Solomon built Gazer, and Bethhoron the nether,
9:18. And Baalath, and Palmira, in the land of the wilderness.
9:19. And all the towns that belonged to himself, and were not walled,
he fortified; the cities also of the chariots, and the cities of the
horsemen, and whatsoever he had a mind to build in Jerusalem, and in
Libanus, and in all the land of his dominion.
9:20. All the people that were left of the Amorrhites, and Hethites,
and Pherezites, and Hevites, and Jebusites, that are not of the
children of Israel:
9:21. Their children, that were left in the land; to wit, such as the
children of Israel had not been able to destroy, Solomon made tributary
unto this day.
9:22. But of the children of Israel, Solomon made not any to be
bondmen, but they were warriors, and his servants, and his princes, and
captains, and overseers of the chariots and horses.
9:23. And there were five hundred and fifty chief officers set over all
the works of Solomon, and they had people under them, and had charge
over the appointed works.
9:24. And the daughter of Pharao came up out of the city of David to
her house, which Solomon had built for her:  then did he build Mello.
9:25. Solomon also offered three times every year holocausts, and
victims of peace offerings, upon the altar which he had built to the
Lord, and he burnt incense before the Lord:  and the temple was
9:26. And king Solomon made a fleet in Asiongaber, which is by Ailath,
on the shore of the Red Sea, in the land of Edom.
9:27. And Hiram sent his servants in the fleet, sailors that had
knowledge of the sea, with the servants of Solomon.
9:28. And they came to Ophir; and they brought from thence to king
Solomon four hundred and twenty talents of gold.
3 Kings Chapter 10
The queen of Saba cometh to king Solomon:  his riches and glory.
10:1. And the queen of Saba having heard of the fame of Solomon in the
name of the Lord, came to try him with hard questions.
10:2. And entering into Jerusalem with a great train, and riches, and
camels that carried spices, and an immense quantity of gold, and
precious stones, she came to king Solomon, and spoke to him all that
she had in her heart.
10:3. And Solomon informed her of all the things she proposed to him:
there was not any word the king was ignorant of, and which he could not
10:4. And when the queen of Saba saw all the wisdom of Solomon, and the
house which he had built,
10:5. And the meat of his table, and the apartments of his servants,
and the order of his ministers, and their apparel, and the cupbearers,
and the holocausts, which he offered in the house of the Lord, she had
no longer any spirit in her;
10:6. And she said to the king:  The report is true, which I heard in my
own country,
10:7. Concerning thy words, and concerning thy wisdom.  And I did not
believe them that told me, till I came myself, and saw with my own
eyes, and have found that the half hath not been told me:  thy wisdom
and thy works exceed the fame which I heard.
10:8. Blessed are thy men, and blessed are thy servants, who stand
before thee always, and hear thy wisdom.
10:9. Blessed be the Lord thy God, whom thou hast pleased, and who hath
set thee upon the throne of Israel, because the Lord hath loved Israel
for ever, and hath appointed thee king, to do judgment and justice.
10:10. And she gave the king a hundred and twenty talents of gold, and
of spices a very great store, and precious stones:  there was brought no
more such abundance of spices as these which the queen of Saba gave to
king Solomon.
10:11. (The navy also of Hiram, which brought gold from Ophir, brought
from Ophir great plenty of thyine trees, and precious stones.
10:12. And the king made of the thyine trees the rails of the house of
the Lord, and of the king's house:  and citterns and harps for singers:
there were no such thyine trees as these brought nor seen unto this
10:13. And king Solomon gave the queen of Saba all that she desired,
and asked of him:  besides what he offered her of himself of his royal
bounty.  And she returned, and went to her own country, with her
10:14. And the weight of the gold that was brought to Solomon every
year, was six hundred and sixty-six talents of gold:
10:15. Besides that which the men brought him that were over the
tributes, and the merchants, and they that sold by retail, and all the
kings of Arabia, and the governors of the country.
10:16. And Solomon made two hundred shields of the purest gold:  he
allowed six hundred sicles of gold for the plates of one shield.
10:17. And three hundred targets of fine gold:  three hundred pounds of
gold covered one target:  and the king put them in the house of the
forest of Libanus.
10:18. King Solomon also made a great throne of ivory:  and overlaid it
with the finest gold.
10:19. It had six steps:  and the top of the throne was round behind:
and there were two hands on either side holding the seat:  and two lions
stood, one at each hand,
10:20. And twelve little lions stood upon the six steps, on the one
side and on the other:  there was no such work made in any kingdom.
10:21. Moreover, all the vessels out of which king Solomon drank, were
of gold:  and all the furniture of the house of the forest of Libanus
was of most pure gold:  there was no silver, nor was any account made of
it in the days of Solomon:
10:22. For the king's navy, once in three years, went with the navy of
Hiram by sea to Tharsis, and brought from thence gold, and silver, and
elephants' teeth, and apes, and peacocks.
10:23. And king Solomon exceeded all the kings of the earth in riches
10:24. And all the earth desired to see Solomon's face, to hear his
wisdom, which God had given in his heart.
10:25. And every one brought him presents, vessels of silver and of
gold, garments, and armour, and spices, and horses, and mules, every
10:26. And Solomon gathered together chariots and horsemen, and he had
a thousand four hundred chariots, and twelve thousand horsemen:  and he
bestowed them in fenced cities, and with the king in Jerusalem.
10:27. And he made silver to be as plentiful in Jerusalem as stones:
and cedars to be as common as sycamores which grow in the plains.
10:28. And horses were brought for Solomon out of Egypt, and Coa:  for
the king's merchants bought them out of Coa, and brought them at a set
10:29. And a chariot of four horses came out of Egypt, for six hundred
sicles of silver, and a horse for a hundred and fifty.  And after this
manner did all the kings of the Hethites, and of Syria, sell horses.
3 Kings Chapter 11
Solomon by means of his wives falleth into idolatry:  God raiseth him
adversaries, Adad, Razon, and Jeroboam:  Solomon dieth.
11:1. And king Solomon loved many strange women, besides the daughter
of Pharao, and women of Moab, and of Ammon, and of Edom, and of Sidon,
and of the Hethites:
11:2. Of the nations concerning which the Lord said to the children of
Israel:  You shall not go in unto them, neither shall any of them come
into yours:  for they will most certainly turn away your hearts to
follow their gods.  And to these was Solomon joined with a most ardent
11:3. And he had seven hundred wives as queens, and three hundred
concubines:  and the women turned away his heart.
11:4. And when he was now old, his heart was turned away by women to
follow strange gods:  and his heart was not perfect with the Lord his
God, as was the heart of David, his father.
11:5. But Solomon worshipped Astarthe, the goddess of the Sidonians,
and Moloch, the idol of the Ammonites.
11:6. And Solomon did that which was not pleasing before the Lord, and
did not fully follow the Lord, as David, his father.
11:7. Then Solomon built a temple for Chamos, the idol of Moab, on the
hill that is over against Jerusalem, and for Moloch, the idol of the
children of Ammon.
11:8. And he did in this manner for all his wives that were strangers,
who burnt incense, and offered sacrifice to their gods.
11:9. And the Lord was angry with Solomon, because his mind was turned
away from the Lord, the God of Israel, who had appeared to him twice;
11:10. And had commanded him concerning this thing, that he should not
follow strange gods:  but he kept not the things which the Lord
commanded him.
11:11. The Lord therefore said to Solomon:  Because thou hast done this,
and hast not kept my covenant, and my precepts, which I have commanded
thee, I will divide and rend thy kingdom, and will give it to thy
11:12. Nevertheless, in thy days I will not do it, for David thy
father's sake:  but I will rend it out of the hand of thy son.
11:13. Neither will I take away the whole kingdom; but I will give one
tribe to thy son, for the sake of David, my servant, and Jerusalem,
which I have chosen.
One tribe. . .Besides that of Juda, his own native tribe.
11:14. And the Lord raised up an adversary to Solomon, Adad, the
Edomite, of the king's seed, in Edom.
11:15. For when David was in Edom, and Joab, the general of the army,
was gone up to bury them that were slain, and had killed every male in
11:16. (For Joab remained there six months with all Israel, till he had
slain every male in Edom,)
11:17. Then Adad fled, he and certain Edomites of his father's
servants, with him, to go into Egypt:  and Adad was then a little boy.
11:18. And they arose out of Madian, and came into Pharan, and they
took men with them from Pharan, and went into Egypt, to Pharao, the
king of Egypt:  who gave him a house, and appointed him victuals, and
assigned him land.
11:19. And Adad found great favour before Pharao, insomuch that he gave
him to wife the own sister of his wife, Taphnes, the queen.
11:20. And the sister of Taphnes bore him his son, Genubath; and
Taphnes brought him up in the house of Pharao:  and Genubath dwelt with
Pharao among his children.
11:21. And when Adad heard in Egypt that David slept with his fathers,
and that Joab, the general of the army, was dead, he said to Pharao:
Let me depart, that I may go to my own country.
11:22. And Pharao said to him:  Why, what is wanting to thee with me,
that thou seekest to go to thy own country?  But he answered:  Nothing;
yet I beseech thee to let me go.
11:23. God also raised up against him an adversary, Razon, the son of
Eliada, who had fled from his master, Adarezer, the king of Soba.
11:24. And he gathered men against him, and he became a captain of
robbers, when David slew them of Soba:  and they went to Damascus, and
dwelt there, and they made him king in Damascus.
11:25. And he was an adversary to Israel all the days of Solomon:  and
this is the evil of Adad, and his hatred against Israel; and he reigned
11:26. Jeroboam also, the son of Nabat, an Ephrathite, of Sareda, a
servant of Solomon, whose mother was named Sarua, a widow woman, lifted
up his hand against the king.
11:27. And this is the cause of his rebellion against him; for Solomon
built Mello, and filled up the breach of the city of David, his father.
11:28. And Jeroboam was a valiant and mighty man:  and Solomon seeing
him a young man ingenious and industrious, made him chief over the
tributes of all the house of Joseph.
11:29. So it came to pass at that time, that Jeroboam went out of
Jerusalem, and the prophet Ahias, the Silonite, clad with a new
garment, found him in the way:  and they two were alone in the field.
11:30. And Ahias taking his new garment, wherewith he was clad, divided
it into twelve parts:
11:31. And he said to Jeroboam:  Take to thee ten pieces:  for thus saith
the Lord, the God of Israel:  Behold, I will rend the kingdom out of the
hand of Solomon, and will give thee ten tribes.
11:32. But one tribe shall remain to him for the sake of my servant,
David, and Jerusalem, the city which I have chosen out of all the
tribes of Israel:
11:33. Because he hath forsaken me, and hath adored Astarthe, the
goddess of the Sidonians, and Chamos, the god of Moab, and Moloch, the
god of the children of Ammon:  and hath not walked in my ways, to do
justice before me, and to keep my precepts, and judgments, as did
David, his father.
11:34. Yet I will not take away all the kingdom out of his hand, but I
will make him prince all the days of his life, for David my servant's
sake, whom I chose, who kept my commandments, and my precepts.
11:35. But I will take away the kingdom out of his son's hand, and will
give thee ten tribes:
11:36. And to his son I will give one tribe, that there may remain a
lamp for my servant, David, before me always in Jerusalem, the city
which I have chosen, that my name might be there.
11:37. And I will take thee, and thou shalt reign over all that thy
soul desireth, and thou shalt be king over Israel.
11:38. If then thou wilt hearken to all that I shall command thee, and
wilt walk in my ways, and do what is right before me, keeping my
commandments and my precepts, as David, my servant, did:  I will be with
thee, and will build thee up a faithful house, as I built a house for
David, and I will deliver Israel to thee:
11:39. And I will for this afflict the seed of David, but yet not for
11:40. Solomon, therefore, sought to kill Jeroboam:  but he arose, and
fled into Egypt, to Sesac, the king of Egypt, and was in Egypt till the
death of Solomon.
11:41. And the rest of the words of Solomon, and all that he did and
his wisdom:  behold they are all written in the book of the words of the
days of Solomon.
The book of the words, etc. . .This book is lost, with divers others
mentioned in holy writ.
11:42. And the days that Solomon reigned in Jerusalem, over all Israel,
were forty years.
11:43. And Solomon slept with his fathers, and was buried in the city
of David, his father; and Roboam, his son, reigned in his stead.
Solomon slept, etc. . .That is, died.  He was then about fifty-eight
years of age, having reigned forty years.
3 Kings Chapter 12
Roboam, following the counsel of young men alienateth from him the
minds of the people.  They make Jeroboam king over ten tribes:  he
setteth up idolatry.
12:1. And Roboam went to Sichem:  for thither were all Israel come
together to make him king.
12:2. But Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who was yet in Egypt, a fugitive
from the face of king Solomon, hearing of his death, returned out of
12:3. And they sent and called him:  and Jeroboam came, and all the
multitude of Israel, and they spoke to Roboam, saying:
12:4. Thy father laid a grievous yoke upon us:  now, therefore, do thou
take off a little of the grievous service of thy father, and of his
most heavy yoke, which he put upon us, and we will serve thee.
12:5. And he said to them:  Go till the third day, and come to me again.
And when the people was gone,
12:6. King Roboam took counsel with the old men, that stood before
Solomon, his father, while he yet lived, and he said:  What counsel do
you give me, that I may answer this people?
12:7. They said to him:  If thou wilt yield to this people to day, and
condescend to them, and grant their petition, and wilt speak gentle
words to them, they will be thy servants always.
12:8. But he left the counsel of the old men, which they had given him,
and consulted with the young men that had been brought up with him, and
stood before him.
12:9. And he said to them:  What counsel do you give me, that I may
answer this people, who have said to me:  Make the yoke, which thy
father put upon us, lighter?
12:10. And the young men that had been brought up with him, said:  Thus
shalt thou speak to this people, who have spoken to thee, saying:  Thy
father made our yoke heavy, do thou ease us.  Thou shalt say to them:  My
little finger is thicker than the back of my father.
12:11. And now my father put a heavy yoke upon you, but I will add to
your yoke:  my father beat you with whips, but I will beat you with
12:12. So Jeroboam, and all the people, came to Roboam the third day,
as the king had appointed, saying:  Come to me again the third day.
12:13. And the king answered the people roughly, leaving the counsel of
the old men, which they had given him,
12:14. And he spoke to them according to the counsel of the young men,
saying:  My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to your yoke:  My
father beat you with whips, but I will beat you with scorpions.
12:15. And the king condescended not to the people:  for the Lord was
turned away from him, to make good his word, which he had spoken in the
hand of Ahias, the Silonite, to Jeroboam, the son of Nabat.
12:16. Then the people, seeing that the king would not hearken to them,
answered him, saying:  What portion have we in David?  or what
inheritance in the son of Isai?  Go home to thy dwellings, O Israel:
now, David, look to thy own house.  So Israel departed to their
12:17. But as for all the children of Israel that dwelt in the cities
of Juda, Roboam reigned over them.
12:18. Then king Roboam sent Aduram, who was over the tribute:  and all
Israel stoned him, and he died.  Wherefore king Roboam made haste to get
him up into his chariot, and he fled to Jerusalem:
12:19. And Israel revolted from the house of David, unto this day.
12:20. And it came to pass when all Israel heard that Jeroboam was come
again, that they gathered an assembly, and sent and called him, and
made him king over all Israel, and there was none that followed the
house of David but the tribe of Juda only.
Juda only. . .Benjamin was a small tribe, and so intermixed with the
tribe of Juda, (the very city of Jerusalem being partly in Juda, partly
in Benjamin,) that they are here counted but as one tribe.
12:21. And Roboam came to Jerusalem, and gathered together all the
house of Juda, and the tribe of Benjamin, a hundred fourscore thousand
chosen men for war, to fight against the house of Israel, and to bring
the kingdom again under Roboam, the son of Solomon.
12:22. But the word of the Lord came to Semeias, the man of God,
12:23. Speak to Roboam, the son of Solomon, the king of Juda, and to
all the house of Juda, and Benjamin, and the rest of the people,
12:24. Thus saith the Lord:  You shall not go up, nor fight against your
brethren, the children of Israel:  let every man return to his house,
for this thing is from me.  They hearkened to the word of the Lord, and
returned from their journey, as the Lord had commanded them.
12:25. And Jeroboam built Sichem in mount Ephraim, and dwelt there, and
going out from thence, he built Phanuel.
12:26. And Jeroboam said in his heart:  Now shall the kingdom return to
the house of David,
12:27. If this people go up to offer sacrifices in the house of the
Lord at Jerusalem:  and the heart of this people will turn to their lord
Roboam, the king of Juda, and they will kill me, and return to him.
12:28. And finding out a device, he made two golden calves, and said to
them:  Go ye up no more to Jerusalem:  Behold thy gods, O Israel, who
brought thee out of the land of Egypt.
Golden calves. . .It is likely, by making his gods in this form, he
mimicked the Egyptians, among whom he had sojourned, who worshipped
their Apis and their Osiris under the form of a bullock.
12:29. And he set the one in Bethel, and the other in Dan:
Bethel and Dan. . .Bethel was a city of the tribe of Ephraim in the
southern part of the dominions of Jeroboam, about six leagues from
Jerusalem; Dan was in the extremity of his dominions to the north in
the confines of Syria.
12:30. And this thing became an occasion of sin:  for the people went to
adore the calf as far as Dan.
12:31. And he made temples in the high places, and priests of the
lowest of the people, who were not of the sons of Levi.
12:32. And he appointed a feast in the eighth month, on the fifteenth
day of the month, after the manner of the feast that was celebrated in
Juda.  And going up to the altar, he did in like manner in Bethel, to
sacrifice to the calves, which he had made:  and he placed in Bethel
priests of the high places, which he had made.
12:33. And he went up to the altar, which he had built in Bethel, on
the fifteenth day of the eighth month, which he had devised of his own
heart:  and he ordained a feast to the children of Israel, and went up
on the altar to burn incense.
3 Kings Chapter 13
A prophet sent from Juda to Bethel foretelleth the birth of Josias, and
the destruction of Jeroboam's altar.  Jeroboam's hand offering violence
to the prophet withereth, but is restored by the prophet's prayer:  the
same prophet is deceived by another prophet, and slain by a lion.
13:1. And behold there came a man of God out of Juda, by the word of
the Lord, to Bethel, when Jeroboam was standing upon the altar, and
burning incense.
13:2. And he cried out against the altar in the word of the Lord, and
said:  O altar, altar, thus saith the Lord:  Behold a child shall be born
to the house of David, Josias by name, and he shall immolate upon thee
the priests of the high places, who now burn incense upon thee, and he
shall burn men's bones upon thee.
13:3. And he gave a sign the same day, saying:  This shall be the sign,
that the Lord hath spoken:  Behold the altar shall be rent, and the
ashes that are upon it, shall be poured out.
13:4. And when the king had heard the word of the man of God, which he
had cried out against the altar in Bethel, he stretched forth his hand
from the altar, saying:  Lay hold on him.  And his hand which he
stretched forth against him, withered:  and he was not able to draw it
back again to him.
13:5. The altar also was rent, and the ashes were poured out from the
altar, according to the sign which the man of God had given before in
the word of the Lord.
13:6. And the king said to the man of God:  Entreat the face of the Lord
thy God, and pray for me, that my hand may be restored to me.  And the
man of God besought the face of the Lord, and the king's hand was
restored to him, and it became as it was before.
13:7. And the king said to the man of God:  Come home with me to dine,
and I will make thee presents.
13:8. And the man of God answered the king:  If thou wouldst give me
half thy house, I will not go with thee, nor eat bread, nor drink water
in this place:
13:9. For so it was enjoined me by the word of the Lord commanding me:
Thou shalt not eat bread, nor drink water, nor return by the same way
that thou camest.
13:10. So he departed by another way, and returned not by the way that
he came into Bethel.
13:11. Now a certain old prophet dwelt in Bethel, and his sons came to
him, and told him all the works that the man of God had done that day
in Bethel:  and they told their father the words which he had spoken to
13:12. And their father said to them:  What way went he?  His sons shewed
him the way by which the man of God went, who came out of Juda.
13:13. And he said to his sons:  Saddle me the ass.  And when they had
saddled it, he got up,
13:14. And went after the man of God, and found him sitting under a
turpentine tree:  and he said to him:  Art thou the man of God who camest
from Juda?  He answered:  I am.
13:15. And he said to him:  Come home with me to eat bread.
13:16. But he said:  I must not return, nor go with thee, neither will I
eat bread, or drink water in this place:
13:17. Because the Lord spoke to me, in the word of the Lord, saying:
Thou shalt not eat bread, and thou shalt not drink water there, nor
return by the way thou wentest.
13:18. He said to him:  I also am a prophet like unto thee:  and an angel
spoke to me, in the word of the Lord, saying:  Bring him back with thee
into thy house, that he may eat bread, and drink water.  He deceived
An angel spoke to me, etc. . .This old man of Bethel was indeed a
prophet, but he sinned in thus deceiving the man of God; the more
because he pretended a revelation for what he did.
13:19. And brought him back with him:  so he ate bread, and drank water
in his house.
13:20. And as they sat at table, the word of the Lord came to the
prophet that brought him back:
13:21. And he cried out to the man of God who came out of Juda, saying:
Thus saith the Lord:  Because thou hast not been obedient to the Lord,
and hast not kept the commandment which the Lord thy God commanded
13:22. And hast returned, and eaten bread, and drunk water in the place
wherein he commanded thee that thou shouldst not eat bread, nor drink
water, thy dead body shall not be brought into the sepulchre of thy
13:23. And when he had eaten and drunk, he saddled his ass for the
prophet, whom he had brought back.
13:24. And when he was gone, a lion found him in the way, and killed
him, and his body was cast in the way:  and the ass stood by him, and
the lion stood by the dead body.
Killed him. . .Thus the Lord often punishes his servants here, that he
may spare them hereafter.  For the generality of divines are of opinion,
that the sin of this prophet, considered with all its circumstances,
was not mortal.
13:25. And behold, men passing by, saw the dead body cast in the way,
and the lion standing by the body.  And they came and told it in the
city, wherein that old prophet dwelt.
13:26. And when that prophet, who had brought him back out of the way,
heard of it, he said:  It is the man of God, that was disobedient to the
mouth of the Lord, and the Lord hath delivered him to the lion, and he
hath torn him, and killed him, according to the word of the Lord, which
he spoke to him.
13:27. And he said to his sons:  Saddle me an ass.  And when they had
13:28. And he was gone, he found the dead body cast in the way, and the
ass and the lion standing by the carcass:  the lion had not eaten of the
dead body, nor hurt the ass.
13:29. And the prophet took up the body of the man of God, and laid it
upon the ass, and going back brought it into the city of the old
prophet, to mourn for him.
13:30. And he laid his dead body in his own sepulchre:  and they mourned
over him, saying:  Alas! alas, my brother.
13:31. And when they had mourned over him, he said to his sons:  When I
am dead, bury me in the sepulchre wherein the man of God is buried:  lay
my bones beside his bones.
13:32. For assuredly the word shall come to pass which he hath foretold
in the word of the Lord, against the altar that is in Bethel:  and
against all the temples of the high places, that are in the cities of
13:33. After these words, Jeroboam came not back from his wicked way:
but on the contrary, he made of the meanest of the people priests of
the high places:  whosoever would, he filled his hand, and he was made a
priest of the high places.
13:34. And for this cause did the house of Jeroboam sin, and was cut
off, and destroyed from the face of the earth.
3 Kings Chapter 14
Ahias prophesieth the destruction of the family of Jeroboam.  He dieth,
and is succeeded by his son Nadab.  The king of Egypt taketh and
pillageth Jerusalem.  Roboam dieth and his son Abiam succeedeth.
14:1. At that time Abia, the son of Jeroboam, fell sick.
14:2. And Jeroboam said to his wife:  Arise, and change thy dress, that
thou be not known to be the wife of Jeroboam, and go to Silo, where
Ahias, the prophet is, who told me that I should reign over this
14:3. Take also with thee ten loaves, and cracknels, and a pot of
honey, and go to him:  for he will tell thee what will become of this
14:4. Jeroboam's wife did as he told her:  and rising up, went to Silo,
and came to the house of Ahias; but he could not see, for his eyes were
dim by reason of his age.
14:5. And the Lord said to Ahias:  Behold the wife of Jeroboam cometh
in, to consult thee concerning her son, that is sick:  thus and thus
shalt thou speak to her.  So when she was coming in, and made as if she
were another woman,
14:6. Ahias heard the sound of her feet, coming in at the door, and
said:  Come in, thou wife of Jeroboam:  why dost thou feign thyself to be
another?  But I am sent to thee with heavy tidings.
14:7. Go, and tell Jeroboam:  Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:
For as much as I exalted thee from among the people, and made thee
prince over my people Israel;
14:8. And rent the kingdom away from the house of David, and gave it to
thee, and thou hast not been as my servant, David, who kept my
commandments, and followed me with all his heart, doing that which was
well pleasing in my sight:
14:9. But hast done evil above all that were before thee, and hast made
thee strange gods, and molten gods, to provoke me to anger, and hast
cast me behind thy back:
14:10. Therefore, behold I will bring evils upon the house of Jeroboam,
and will cut off from Jeroboam him that pisseth against the wall, and
him that is shut up, and the last in Israel:  and I will sweep away the
remnant of the house of Jeroboam, as dung is swept away till all be
14:11. Them that shall die of Jeroboam in the city, the dogs shall eat:
and them that shall die in the field, the birds of the air shall
devour:  for the Lord hath spoken it.
14:12. Arise thou, therefore, and go to thy house:  and when thy feet
shall be entering into the city, the child shall die,
14:13. And all Israel shall mourn for him, and shall bury him:  for he
only of Jeroboam shall be laid in a sepulchre, because in his regard
there is found a good word from the Lord, the God of Israel, in the
house of Jeroboam.
14:14. And the Lord hath appointed himself a king over Israel, who
shall cut off the house of Jeroboam in this day, and in this time:
14:15. And the Lord God shall strike Israel as a reed is shaken in the
water:  and he shall root up Israel out of this good land, which he gave
to their fathers, and shall scatter them beyond the river:  because they
have made to themselves groves, to provoke the Lord.
14:16. And the Lord shall give up Israel for the sins of Jeroboam, who
hath sinned, and made Israel to sin.
14:17. And the wife of Jeroboam arose, and departed, and came to
Thersa:  and when she was coming in to the threshold of the house, the
14:18. And they buried him.  And all Israel mourned for him, according
to the word of the Lord, which he spoke by the hand of his servant
Ahias, the prophet.
14:19. And the rest of the acts of Jeroboam, how he fought, and how he
reigned, behold they are written in the book of the words of the days
of the kings of Israel.
The book of the words of the days of the kings of Israel. . .This book,
which is often mentioned in the Book of Kings, is long since lost.  For
as to the books of Paralipomenon, or Chronicles, (which the Hebrews
call the words of the days,) they were certainly written after the Book
of Kings, since they frequently refer to them.
14:20. And the days that Jeroboam reigned, were two and twenty years:
and he slept with his fathers:  and Nadab, his son, reigned in his
14:21. And Roboam, the son of Solomon, reigned in Juda:  Roboam was one
and forty years old when he began to reign:  and he reigned seventeen
years in Jerusalem, the city which the Lord chose out of all the tribes
of Israel to put his name there.  And his mother's name was Naama, an
14:22. And Juda did evil in the sight of the Lord, and provoked him
above all that their fathers had done, in their sins which they
14:23. For they also built them altars, and statues, and groves, upon
every high hill, and under every green tree:
14:24. There were also the effeminate in the land, and they did
according to all the abominations of the people, whom the Lord had
destroyed before the face of the children of Israel.
The effeminate. . .Catamites, or men addicted to unnatural lust.
14:25. And in the fifth year of the reign of Roboam, Sesac, king of
Egypt, came up against Jerusalem.
14:26. And he took away the treasures of the house of the Lord, and the
king's treasures, and carried all off:  as also the shields of gold
which Solomon had made:
14:27. And Roboam made shields of brass instead of them, and delivered
them into the hand of the captains of the shieldbearers, and of them
that kept watch before the gate of the king's house.
14:28. And when the king went into the house of the Lord, they whose
office it was to go before him, carried them:  and afterwards they
brought them back to the armoury of the shieldbearers.
14:29. Now the rest of the acts of Roboam, and all that he did, behold
they are written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
14:30. And there was war between Roboam and Jeroboam always.
14:31. And Roboam slept with his fathers, and was buried with them, in
the city of David:  and his mother's name was Naama, an Ammonitess:  and
Abiam, his son, reigned in his stead.
3 Kings Chapter 15
The acts of Abiam and of Asa kings of Juda.  And of Nadab and Baasa
kings of Israel.
15:1. Now in the eighteenth year of the reign of Jeroboam, the son of
Nabat, Abiam reigned over Juda.
15:2. He reigned three years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Maacha, the daughter of Abessalom.
Maacha, etc. . .She is called elsewhere Michaia, daughter of Uriel; but
it was common in those days for the same person to have two names.
15:3. And he walked in all the sins of his father, which he had done
before him:  and his heart was not perfect with the Lord his God, as was
the heart of David, his father.
15:4. But for David's sake the Lord his God gave him a lamp in
Jerusalem, to set up his son after him, and to establish Jerusalem:
15:5. Because David had done that which was right in the eyes of the
Lord, and had not turned aside from any thing that he commanded him,
all the days of his life, except the matter of Urias, the Hethite.
15:6. But there was war between Roboam and Jeroboam all the time of his
15:7. And the rest of the words of Abiam, and all that he did, are they
not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Juda?
And there was war between Abiam and Jeroboam.
15:8. And Abiam slept with his fathers, and they buried him in the city
of David:  and Asa, his son, reigned in his stead.
15:9. So in the twentieth year of Jeroboam, king of Israel, reigned
Asa, king of Juda,
15:10. And he reigned one and forty years in Jerusalem.  His mother's
name was Maacha, the daughter of Abessalom.
His mother, etc. . .That is, his grandmother; unless we suppose, which
is not improbable, that the Maacha here named is different from the
Maacha mentioned, ver. 2.
15:11. And Asa did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, as
did David, his father:
15:12. And he took away the effeminate out of the land, and removed all
the filth of the idols, which his fathers had made.
15:13. Moreover, he also removed his mother, Maacha, from being the
princess in the sacrifices of Priapus, and in the grove which she had
consecrated to him:  and he destroyed her den, and broke in pieces the
filthy idol, and burnt it by the torrent Cedron:
15:14. But the high places he did not take away.  Nevertheless, the
heart of Asa was perfect with the Lord all his days:
The high places. . .There were excelsa or high places of two different
kinds.  Some were set up, and dedicated to the worship of idols, or
strange gods; and these Asa removed, 2 Par. 14.2; others were only
altars of the true God, but were erected contrary to the law, which
allowed of no sacrifices but in the temple; and these were not removed
by Asa.--Ibid.  Perfect with the Lord. . .Asa had his faults; but never
forsook the worship of the Lord.
15:15. And he brought in the things which his father had dedicated, and
he had vowed, into the house of the Lord, silver and gold, and vessels.
15:16. And there was war between Asa, and Baasa, king of Israel, all
15:17. And Baasa, king of Israel, went up against Juda, and built Rama,
that no man might go out or come in of the side of Asa, king of Juda.
15:18. Then Asa took all the silver and gold that remained in the
treasures of the house of the Lord, and in the treasures of the king's
house, and delivered it into the hands of his servants:  and sent them
to Benadad, son of Tabremon, the son of Hezion, king of Syria, who
dwelt in Damascus, saying:
15:19. There is a league between me and thee, and between my father and
thy father:  therefore I have sent thee presents of silver and gold:  and
I desire thee to come, and break thy league with Baasa, king of Israel,
that he may depart from me.
15:20. Benadad, hearkening to king Asa, sent the captains of his army
against the cities of Israel, and they smote Ahion, and Dan, and
Abeldomum Maacha, and all Cenneroth; that is all the land of Nephthali.
15:21. And when Baasa had heard this, he left off building Rama, and
returned into Thersa.
15:22. But king Asa sent word into all Juda, saying:  Let no man be
excused:  and they took away the stones from Rama, and the timber
thereof, wherewith Baasa had been building, and with them king Asa
built Gabaa of Benjamin, and Maspha.
15:23. But the rest of all the acts of Asa, and all his strength, and
all that he did, and the cities that he built, are they not written in
the book of the words of the days of the kings of Juda?  But in the time
of his old age he was diseased in his feet.
15:24. And he slept with his fathers, and was buried with them in the
city of David, his father.  And Josaphat, his son, reigned in his place.
15:25. But Nadab, the son of Jeroboam, reigned over Israel the second
year of Asa, king of Juda:  and he reigned over Israel two years.
15:26. And he did evil in the sight of the Lord, and walked in the ways
of his father, and in his sins, wherewith he made Israel to sin.
15:27. And Baasa, the son of Ahias, of the house of Issachar, conspired
against him, and slew him in Gebbethon, which is a city of the
Philistines:  for Nadab and all Israel besieged Gebbethon.
15:28. So Baasa slew him in the third year of Asa, king of Juda, and
reigned in his place.
15:29. And when he was king, he cut off all the house of Jeroboam:  he
left not so much as one soul of his seed, till he had utterly destroyed
him, according to the word of the Lord, which he had spoken in the hand
of Ahias, the Silonite:
15:30. Because of the sin of Jeroboam, which he had sinned, and
wherewith he had made Israel to sin, and for the offence wherewith he
provoked the Lord, the God of Israel.
15:31. But the rest of the acts of Nadab, and all that he did, are they
not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
15:32. And there was war between Asa and Baasa, the king of Israel, all
15:33. In the third year of Asa, king of Juda, Baasa, the son of Ahias,
reigned over all Israel, in Thersa, four and twenty years.
15:34. And he did evil before the Lord, and walked in the ways of
Jeroboam, and in his sins, wherewith he made Israel to sin.
3 Kings Chapter 16
Jehu prophesieth against Baasa:  his son Ela is slain and all his family
destroyed by Zambri.  Of the reign of Amri father of Achab.
16:1. Then the word of the Lord came to Jehu, the son of Hanani,
against Baasa, saying:
16:2. For as much as I have exalted thee out of the dust and made thee
prince over my people Israel, and thou hast walked in the way of
Jeroboam, and hast made my people Israel to sin, to provoke me to anger
with their sins:
16:3. Behold I will cut down the posterity of Baasa, and the posterity
of his house, and I will make thy house as the house of Jeroboam, the
son of Nabat.
16:4. Him that dieth of Baasa, in the city, the dogs shall eat:  and him
that dieth of his in the country, the fowls of the air shall devour.
16:5. But the rest of the acts of Baasa, and all that he did, and his
battles, are they not written in the book of the words of the days of
the kings of Israel?
16:6. So Baasa slept with his fathers, and was buried in Thersa:  and
Ela, his son, reigned in his stead.
16:7. And when the word of the Lord came in the hand of Jehu, the son
of Hanani, the prophet, against Baasa, and against his house, and
against all the evil that he had done before the Lord, to provoke him
to anger by the works of his hands, to become as the house of Jeroboam:
for this cause he slew him; that is to say, Jehu, the son of Hanani,
the prophet.
16:8. In the six and twentieth year of Asa, king of Juda, Ela, the son
of Baasa, reigned over Israel, in Thersa, two years.
16:9. And his servant Zambri, who was captain of half the horsemen,
rebelled against him:  now Ela was drinking in Thersa, and drunk in the
house of Arsa, the governor of Thersa.
16:10. And Zambri rushing in, struck him, and slew him, in the seven
and twentieth year of Asa, king of Juda and he reigned in his stead.
16:11. And when he was king, and sat upon his throne, he slew all the
house of Baasa, and he left not one thereof to piss against a wall and
all his kinsfolks and friends.
16:12. And Zambri destroyed all the house of Baasa, according to the
word of the Lord, that he had spoken to Baasa, in the hand of Jehu, the
16:13. For all the sins of Baasa, and the sins of Ela, his son, who
sinned, and made Israel to sin, provoking the Lord, the God of Israel,
with their vanities.
16:14. But the rest of the acts of Ela, and all that he did, are they
not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
16:15. In the seven and twentieth year of Asa, king of Juda, Zambri
reigned seven days in Thersa:  now the army was besieging Gebbethon, a
city of the Philistines.
16:16. And when they heard that Zambri had rebelled, and slain the
king, all Israel made Amri their king, who was general over Israel in
the camp that day.
16:17. And Amri went up, and all Israel with him, from Gebbethon, and
they besieged Thersa.
16:18. And Zambri, seeing that the city was about to be taken, went
into the palace, and burnt himself with the king's house:  and he died
16:19. In his sins, which he had sinned, doing evil before the Lord,
and walking in the way of Jeroboam, and in his sin, wherewith he made
Israel to sin.
16:20. But the rest of the acts of Zambri, and of his conspiracy and
tyranny, are they not written in the book of the words of the days of
the kings of Israel?
16:21. Then were the people of Israel divided into two parts:  one half
of the people followed Thebni, the son of Gineth, to make him king:  and
one half followed Amri.
16:22. But the people that were with Amri, prevailed over the people
that followed Thebni, the son of Gineth:  and Thebni died, and Amri
16:23. In the one and thirtieth year of Asa, king of Juda, Amri reigned
over Israel twelve years:  in Thersa he reigned six years.
In the one and thirtieth year, etc. . .Amri began to reign in the seven
and twentieth year of Asa; but had not quiet possession of the kingdom
till the death of his competitor Thebni, which was in the one and
thirtieth year of Asa's reign.
16:24. And he bought the hill of Samaria of Semer, for two talents of
silver:  and he built upon it, and he called the city which he built
Samaria, after the name of Semer, the owner of the hill.
16:25. And Amri did evil in the sight of the Lord, and acted wickedly
above all that were before him.
16:26. And he walked in all the way of Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, and
in his sins, wherewith he made Israel to sin:  to provoke the Lord, the
God of Israel, to anger with their vanities.
With their vanities. . .That is, their idols their golden calves, vain,
false, deceitful things.
16:27. Now the rest of the acts of Amri, and the battles he fought, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
16:28. And Amri slept with his fathers, and was buried in Samaria, and
Achab, his son, reigned in his stead.
16:29. Now Achab, the son of Amri, reigned over Israel in the eight and
thirtieth year of Asa, king of Juda.  And Achab, the son of Amri,
reigned over Israel in Samaria two and twenty years.
16:30. And Achab, the son of Amri, did evil in the sight of the Lord
above all that were before him.
16:31. Nor was it enough for him to walk in the sins of Jeroboam, the
son of Nabat:  but he also took to wife Jezabel, daughter of Ethbaal,
king of the Sidonians.  And he went, and served Baal, and adored him.
16:32. And he set up an altar for Baal, in the temple of Baal, which he
had built in Samaria;
16:33. And he planted a grove:  and Achab did more to provoke the Lord,
the God of Israel, than all the kings of Israel that were before him.
16:34. In his days Hiel, of Bethel, built Jericho:  in Abiram, his
firstborn, he laid its foundations:  and in his youngest son, Segub, he
set up the gates thereof:  according to the word of the Lord, which he
spoke in the hand of Josue, the son of Nun.
3 Kings Chapter 17
Elias shutteth up the heaven from raining.  He is fed by ravens, and
afterwards by a widow of Sarephta.  He raiseth the window's son to life.
17:1. And Elias the Thesbite, of the inhabitants of Galaad, said to
Achab:  As the Lord liveth, the God of Israel, in whose sight I stand,
there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to the words
of my mouth.
17:2. And the word of the Lord came to him, saying:
17:3. Get thee hence, and go towards the east, and hide thyself by the
torrent of Carith, which is over against the Jordan;
17:4. And there thou shalt drink of the torrent:  and I have commanded
the ravens to feed thee there.
17:5. So he went, and did according to the word of the Lord:  and going,
he dwelt by the torrent Carith, which is over against the Jordan.
17:6. And the ravens brought him bread and flesh in the morning, and
bread and flesh in the evening; and he drank of the torrent.
17:7. But after some time the torrent was dried up:  for it had not
rained upon the earth.
17:8. Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying:
17:9. Arise, and go to Sarephta of the Sidonians, and dwell there:  for
I have commanded a widow woman there to feed thee.
Sarephta of the Sidonians. . .That is, a city of the Sidonians.
17:10. He arose, and went to Sarephta.  And when he was come to the gate
of the city, he saw the widow woman gathering sticks, and he called
her, and said to her:  Give me a little water in a vessel, that I may
17:11. And when she was going to fetch it, he called after her, saying:
Bring me also, I beseech thee, a morsel of bread in thy hand.
17:12. And she answered:  As the Lord thy God liveth, I have no bread,
but only a handful of meal in a pot, and a little oil in a cruise:
behold I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it, for me
and my son, that we may eat it and die.
17:13. And Elias said to her:  Fear not; but go, and do as thou hast
said but first make for me of the same meal a little hearth cake, and
bring it to me, and after make for thyself and thy son.
17:14. For thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:  The pot of meal
shall not waste, nor the cruise of oil be diminished, until the day
wherein the Lord will give rain upon the face of the earth.
17:15. She went, and did according to the word of Elias:  and he ate,
and she, and her house:  and from that day
17:16. The pot of meal wasted not, and the cruise of oil was not
diminished according to the word of the Lord, which he spoke in the
hand of Elias.
17:17. And it came to pass after this, that the son of the woman, the
mistress of the house, fell sick, and the sickness was very grievous,
so that there was no breath left in him.
17:18. And she said to Elias:  What have I to do with thee, thou man of
God?  art thou come to me, that my iniquities should be remembered, and
that thou shouldst kill my son?
17:11. And Elias said to her:  Give me thy son.  And he took him out of
her bosom, and carried him into the upper chamber where he abode, and
laid him upon his own bed.
17:20. And he cried to the Lord, and said:  O Lord, my God, hast thou
afflicted also the widow, with whom I am after a sort maintained, so as
to kill her son?
17:21. And he stretched, and measured himself upon the child three
times, and cried to the Lord, and said:  O Lord, my God, let the soul of
this child, I beseech thee, return into his body.
17:22. And the Lord heard the voice of Elias:  and the soul of the child
returned into him, and he revived.
17:23. And Elias took the child, and brought him down from the upper
chamber to the house below, and delivered him to his mother, and said
to her:  Behold thy son liveth.
17:24. And the woman said to Elias:  Now by this I know that thou art a
man of God, and the word of the Lord in thy mouth is true.
3 Kings Chapter 18
Elias cometh before Achab.  He convinceth the false prophets by bringing
fire from heaven:  he obtaineth rain by his prayer.
18:1. After many days, the word of the Lord came to Elias, in the third
year, saying:  Go, and shew thyself to Achab, that I may give rain upon
the face of the earth.
18:2. And Elias went to shew himself to Achab, and there was a grievous
famine in Samaria.
18:3. And Achab called Abdias the governor of his house:  now Abdias
feared the Lord very much.
18:4. For when Jezabel killed the prophets of the Lord, he took a
hundred prophets, and hid them by fifty and fifty in caves, and fed
them with bread and water.
18:5. And Achab said to Abdias:  Go into the land unto all fountains of
waters, and into all valleys, to see if we can find grass, and save the
horses and mules, that the beasts may not utterly perish.
18:6. And they divided the countries between them, that they might go
round about them:  Achab went one way, and Abdias another way by
18:7. And as Abdias was in the way, Elias met him:  and he knew him, and
fell on his face, and said:  Art thou my lord Elias?
18:8. And he answered:  I am.  Go, and tell thy master:  Elias is here.
18:9. And he said:  What have I sinned, that thou wouldst deliver me,
thy servant, into the hand of Achab, that he should kill me?
18:10. As the Lord thy God liveth, there is no nation or kingdom,
whither my lord hath not sent to seek thee:  and when all answered:  He
is not here:  he took an oath of every kingdom and nation, because thou
wast not found.
18:11. And now thou sayest to me:  Go and tell thy master:  Elias is
18:12. And when I am gone from thee, the Spirit of the Lord will carry
thee into a place that I know not:  and I shall go in and tell Achab;
and he, not finding thee, will kill me:  but thy servant feareth the
Lord from his infancy.
18:13. Hath it not been told thee, my lord, what I did when Jezabel
killed the prophets of the Lord; how I hid a hundred men of the
prophets of the Lord, by fifty and fifty in caves, and fed them with
bread and water?
18:14. And now thou sayest:  Go and tell thy master:  Elias is here:
that he may kill me.
18:15. And Elias said:  As the Lord of hosts liveth, before whose face I
stand, this day I will shew myself unto him.
18:16. Abdias therefore went to meet Achab, and told him:  and Achab
came to meet Elias.
18:17. And when he had seen him, he said:  Art thou he that troublest
18:18. And he said:  I have not troubled Israel, but thou and thy
father's house, who have forsaken the commandments of the Lord, and
have followed Baalim.
18:19. Nevertheless send now, and gather unto me all Israel, unto Mount
Carmel, and the prophets of Baal four hundred and fifty, and the
prophets of the groves four hundred, who eat at Jezabel's table.
18:20. Achab sent to all the children of Israel, and gathered together
the prophets unto mount Carmel.
18:21. And Elias coming to all the people, said:  How long do you halt
between two sides?  If the Lord be God, follow him:  but if Baal, then
follow him.  And the people did not answer him a word.
18:22. And Elias said again to the people:  I only remain a prophet of
the Lord:  but the prophets of Baal are four hundred and fifty men.
18:23. Let two bullocks be given us, and let them choose one bullock
for themselves, and cut it in pieces, and lay it upon wood, but put no
fire under:  and I will dress the other bullock, and lay it on wood, and
put no fire under it.
18:24. Call ye on the names of your gods, and I will call on the name
of my Lord:  and the God that shall answer by fire, let him be God.  And
all the people answering, said:  A very good proposal.
18:25. Then Elias said to the prophets of Baal:  Choose you one bullock
and dress it first, because you are many:  and call on the names of your
gods; but put no fire under.
18:26. And they took the bullock, which he gave them, and dressed it:
and they called on the name of Baal from morning even until noon,
saying:  O Baal, hear us.  But there was no voice, nor any that answered:
and they leaped over the altar that they had made.
18:27. And when it was now noon, Elias jested at them, saying:  Cry with
a louder voice:  for he is a god; and perhaps he is talking, or is in an
inn, or on a journey; or perhaps he is asleep, and must be awaked.
18:28. So they cried with a loud voice, and cut themselves after their
manner with knives and lancets, till they were all covered with blood.
18:29. And after midday was past, and while they were prophesying, the
time was come of offering sacrifice, and there was no voice heard, nor
did any one answer, nor regard them as they prayed.
18:30. Elias said to all the people:  Come ye unto me.  And the people
coming near unto him, he repaired the altar of the Lord, that was
broken down:
18:31. And he took twelve stones, according to the number of the tribes
of the sons of Jacob to whom the word of the Lord came, saying:  Israel
shall be thy name.
18:32. And he built with the stones an altar to the name of the Lord:
and he made a trench for water, of the breadth of two furrows, round
about the altar.
18:33. And he laid the wood in order, and cut the bullock in pieces,
and laid it upon the wood.
18:34. And he said:  Fill four buckets with water, and pour it upon the
burnt offering, and upon the wood.  And again he said:  Do the same the
second time.  And when they had done it the second time, he said:  Do the
same also the third time.  And they did so the third time.
18:35. And the water run round about the altar, and the trench was
filled with water.
18:36. And when it was now time to offer the holocaust, Elias, the
prophet, came near and said:  O Lord God of Abraham, and Isaac, and
Israel, shew this day that thou art the God of Israel, and I thy
servant, and that according to thy commandment I have done all these
18:37. Dear me, O Lord, hear me:  that this people may learn that thou
art the Lord God, and that thou hast turned their heart again.
18:38. Then the fire of the Lord fell, and consumed the holocaust, and
the wood, and the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that
was in the trench.
18:39. And when all the people saw this, they fell on their faces, and
they said:  The Lord, he is God; the Lord, he is God.
18:40. And Elias said to them:  Take the prophets of Baal, and let not
one of them escape.  And when they had taken them, Elias brought them
down to the torrent Cison, and killed them there.
18:41. And Elias said to Achab:  Go up, eat and drink:  for there is a
sound of abundance of rain.
18:42. Achab went up to eat and drink:  and Elias went up to the top of
Carmel, and casting himself down upon the earth, put his face between
18:43. And he said to his servant:  Go up, and look towards the sea.  And
he went up, and looked, and said:  There is nothing.  And again he said
to him:  Return seven times.
18:44. And at the seventh time:  Behold a little cloud arose out of the
sea like a man's foot.  And he said:  Go up, and say to Achab:  Prepare
thy chariot, and go down, lest the rain prevent thee.
18:45. And while he turned himself this way and that way, behold the
heavens grew dark, with clouds and wind, and there fell a great rain.
And Achab getting up, went away to Jezrahel:
18:46. And the hand of the Lord was upon Elias, and he girded up his
loins, and ran before Achab, till he came to Jezrahel.
3 Kings Chapter 19
Elias, fleeing from Jezabel, is fed by an angel in the desert; and by
the strength of that food walketh forty days, till he cometh to Horeb,
where he hath a vision of God.
19:1. And Achab told Jezabel all that Elias had done, and how he had
slain all the prophets with the sword.
19:2. And Jezabel sent a messenger to Elias, saying:  Such and such
things may the gods do to me, and add still more, if by this hour to
morrow I make not thy life as the life of one of them.
19:3. Then EIias was afraid, and rising up, he went whithersoever he
had a mind:  and he came to Bersabee of Juda, and left his servant
19:4. And he went forward, one day's journey into the desert.  And when
he was there, and sat under a juniper tree, he requested for his soul
that he might die, and said:  It is enough for me, Lord; take away my
soul:  for I am no better than my fathers.
That he might die. . .Elias requested to die, not out of impatience or
pusillanimity, but out of zeal against sin; and that he might no longer
be witness of the miseries of his people; and the war they were waging
against God and his servants.  See ver. 10.
19:5. And he cast himself down, and slept in the shadow of the juniper
tree:  and behold an angel of the Lord touched him, and said to him:
Arise and eat.
19:6. He looked, and behold there was at his head a hearth cake, and a
vessel of water:  and he ate and drank, and he fell asleep again.
19:7. And the angel of the Lord came again the second time, and touched
him, and said to him:  Arise, eat:  for thou hast yet a great way to go.
19:8. And he arose, and ate and drank, and walked in the strength of
that food forty days and forty nights, unto the mount of God, Horeb.
In the strength of that food, etc. . .This bread, with which Elias was
fed in the wilderness, was a figure of the bread of life which we
receive in the blessed sacrament; by the strength of which we are to be
supported in our journey through the wilderness of this world till we
come to the true mountain of God, and his vision in a happy eternity.
19:9. And when he was come thither, he abode in a cave.  and behold the
word of the Lord came unto him, and he said to him:  What dost thou
here, Elias?
19:10. And he answered:  With zeal have I been zealous for the Lord God
of hosts:  for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant:  they
have thrown down thy altars, they have slain thy prophets with the
sword, and I alone am left, and they seek my life to take it away.
I alone am left. . .Viz., of the prophets in the kingdom of Israel, or
of the ten tribes; for in the kingdom of Juda religion was at that time
in a very flourishing condition under the kings Asa and Josaphat.  And
even in Israel there remained several prophets, though not then known
to Elias.  See chap. 20.13, 28, 35.
19:11. And he said to him:  Go forth, and stand upon the mount before
the Lord:  and behold the Lord passeth, and a great and strong wind
before the Lord, overthrowing the mountains, and breaking the rocks in
pieces:  but the Lord is not in the wind.  And after the wind, an
earthquake:  but the Lord is not in the earthquake.
19:12. And after the earthquake, a fire:  but the Lord is not in the
fire.  And after the fire, a whistling of a gentle air.
19:13. And when Elias heard it, he covered his face with his mantle,
and coming forth, stood in the entering in of the cave, and behold a
voice unto him, saying:  What dost thou here, Elias?  And he answered:
19:14. With zeal have I been zealous for the Lord God of hosts:  because
the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant:  they have destroyed
thy altars, they have slain thy prophets with the sword; and I alone am
left, and they seek my life to take it away.
19:15. And the Lord said to him:  Go, and return on thy way, through the
desert, to Damascus:  and when thou art come thither, thou shalt anoint
Hazael to be king over Syria;
19:16. And thou shalt anoint Jehu, the son of Namsi, to be king over
Israel:  and Eliseus, the son of Saphat, of Abelmeula, thou shalt anoint
to be prophet in thy room.
19:17. And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall escape the sword
of Hazael, shall be slain by Jehu:  and whosoever shall escape the sword
of Jehu, shall be slain by Eliseus.
Shall be slain by Eliseus. . .Eliseus did not kill any of the idolaters
with the material sword:  but he is here joined with Hazael and Jehu,
the great instruments of God in punishing the idolatry of Israel,
because he foretold to the former his exaltation to the kingdom of
Syria, and the vengeance he would execute against Israel, and anointed
the latter by one of his disciples to be king of Israel, with
commission to extirpate the house of Achab.
19:18. And I will leave me seven thousand men in Israel, whose knees
have not been bowed before Baal, and every mouth that hath not
worshipped him, kissing the hands.
19:19. And Elias departing from thence, found Eliseus, the son of
Saphat, ploughing with twelve yoke of oxen:  and he was one of them that
were ploughing with, twelve yoke of oxen:  and when Elias came up to
him, he cast his mantle upon him.
19:20. And he forthwith left the oxen, and run after Elias, and said:
Let me, I pray thee, kiss my father and my mother, and then I will
follow thee.  And he said to him:  Go, and return back:  for that which
was my part, I have done to thee.
19:21. And returning back from him, he took a yoke of oxen, and killed
them, and boiled the flesh with the plough of the oxen, and gave to the
people, and they ate:  and rising up, he went away, and followed Elias,
and ministered to him.
3 Kings Chapter 20
The Syrians besiege Samaria:  they are twice defeated by Achab:  who is
reprehended by a prophet for letting Benadad go.
20:1. And Benadad, king of Syria, gathered together all his host, and
there were two and thirty kings with him, and horses, and chariots:  and
going up, he fought against Samaria, and besieged it.
20:2. And sending messengers to Achab, king of Israel, into the city,
20:3. He said:  Thus saith Benadad:  Thy silver and thy gold is mine:
and thy wives and thy goodliest children are mine.
20:4. And the king of Israel answered:  According to thy word, my lord,
O king, I am thine, and all that I have.
20:5. And the messengers came again, and said:  Thus saith Benadad, who
sent us unto thee:  Thy silver and thy gold, and thy wives and thy
children, thou shalt deliver up to me.
20:6. To morrow, therefore, at this same hour, I will send my servants
to thee, and they shall search thy house, and the houses of thy
servants:  and all that pleaseth them, they shall put in their hands,
and take away.
20:7. And the king of Israel called all the ancients of the land, and
said:  Mark, and see that he layeth snares for us.  For he sent to me for
my wives, and for my children, and for my silver and gold:  and I said
20:8. And all the ancients, and all the people said to him:  Hearken not
to him, nor consent to him.
20:9. Wherefore he answered the messengers of Benadad:  Tell my lord,
the king:  All that thou didst send for to me, thy servant at first, I
will do:  but this thing I cannot do.
20:10. And the messengers returning brought him word.  And he sent
again, and said:  Such and such things may the gods do to me, and more
may they add, if the dust of Samaria shall suffice for handfuls for all
the people that follow me.
20:11. And the king of Israel answering, said:  Tell him:  Let not the
girded boast himself as the ungirded.
Let not the girded, etc. . .Let him not boast before the victory:  it
will then be time to glory when he putteth off his armour, having
overcome his adversary.
20:12. And it came to pass, when Benadad heard this word, that he and
the kings were drinking in pavilions, and he said to his servants:
Beset the city.  And they beset it.
20:13. And behold a prophet coming to Achab, king of Israel, said to
him:  Thus saith the Lord:  Hast thou seen all this exceeding great
multitude?  behold I will deliver them into thy hand this day:  that thou
mayst know that I am the Lord.
20:14. And Achab said:  By whom?  And he said to him:  Thus saith the
Lord:  By the servants of the princes of the provinces.  And he said:
Who shall begin to fight?  And he said:  Thou.
20:15. So he mustered the servants of the princes of the provinces, and
he found the number of two hundred and thirty-two:  and he mustered
after them the people, all the children of Israel, seven thousand:
20:16. And they went out at noon.  But Benadad was drinking himself
drunk in his pavilion, and the two and thirty kings with him, who were
come to help him.
20:17. And the servants of the princes of the provinces went out first.
And Benadad sent.  And they told him, saying:  There are men come out of
20:18. And he said:  Whether they come for peace, take them alive:  or
whether they come to fight, take them alive.
20:19. So the servants of the princes of the provinces went out, and
the rest of the army followed:
20:20. And every one slew the man that came against him:  and the
Syrians fled, and Israel pursued after them.  And Benadad, king of
Syria, fled away on horseback with his horsemen.
20:21. But the king of Israel going out overthrew the horses and
chariots, and slew the Syrians with a great slaughter.
20:22. (And a prophet coming to the king of Israel, said to him:  Go,
and strengthen thyself, and know, and see what thou dost:  for the next
year the king of Syria will come up against thee.)
20:23. But the servants of the king of Syria said to him:  Their gods
are gods of the hills, therefore they have overcome us:  but it is
better that we should fight against them in the plains, and we shall
overcome them.
20:24. Do thou, therefore, this thing:  Remove all the kings from thy
army, and put captains in their stead:
20:25. And make up the number of soldiers that have been slain of
thine, and horses, according to the former horses, and chariots,
according to the chariots which thou hadst before:  and we will fight
against them in the plains, and thou shalt see that we shall overcome
them.  He believed their counsel, and did so.
20:26. Wherefore, at the return of the year, Benadad mustered the
Syrians, and went up to Aphec, to fight against Israel.
20:27. And the children of Israel were mustered, and taking victuals,
went out on the other side, and encamped over against them, like two
little flocks of goats:  but the Syrians filled the land.
20:28. (And a man of God coming, said to the king of Israel:  Thus saith
the Lord:  Because the Syrians have said:  The Lord is God of the hills,
but is not God of the valleys:  I will deliver all this great multitude
into thy hand, and you shall know that I am the Lord.)
20:29. And both sides set their armies in array one against the other
seven days, and on the seventh day the battle was fought:  and the
children of Israel slew, of the Syrians, a hundred thousand footmen in
20:30. And they that remained fled to Aphec, into the city:  and the
wall fell upon seven and twenty thousand men, that were left.  And
Benadad fleeing, went into the city, into a chamber that was within a
20:31. And his servants said to him:  Behold, we have heard that the
kings of the house of Israel are merciful; so let us put sackcloths on
our loins, and ropes on our heads, and go out to the king of Israel:
perhaps he will save our lives.
20:32. So they girded sackcloths on their loins, and put ropes on their
heads, and came to the king of Israel, and said to him:  Thy servant,
Benadad, saith:  I beseech thee let me have my life.  And he said:  If he
be yet alive, he is my brother.
20:33. The men took this for good luck:  and in haste caught the word
out of his mouth, and said:  Thy brother Benadad.  And he said to them:
Go, and bring him to me.  Then Benadad came out to him, and he lifted
him up into his chariot.
20:34. And he said to him:  The cities which my father took from thy
father, I will restore:  and do thou make thee streets in Damascus, as
my father made in Samaria and having made a league, I will depart from
thee.  So he made a league with him, and let him go.
20:35. Then a certain man of the sons of the prophets, said to his
companion, in the word of the Lord:  Strike me.  But he would not strike.
20:36. Then he said to him:  Because thou wouldst not hearken to the
word of the Lord, behold thou shalt depart from me, and a lion shall
slay thee.  And when he was gone a little from him, a lion found him,
and slew him.
20:37. Then he found another man, and said to him:  Strike me.  And he
struck him and wounded him.
20:38. So the prophet went, and met the king in the way, and disguised
himself by sprinkling dust on his face and his eyes.
20:39. And as the king passed by, he cried to the king, and said:  Thy
servant went out to fight hand to hand:  and when a certain man was run
away, one brought him to me, and said:  Keep this man:  and if he shall
slip away, thy life shall be for his life, or thou shalt pay a talent
20:40. And whilst I, in the hurry, turned this way and that, on a
sudden he was not to be seen.  And the king of Israel said to him:  This
is thy judgment, which thyself hast decreed.
20:41. But he forthwith wiped off the dust from his face, and the king
of Israel knew him, that he was one of the prophets.
20:42. And he said to him:  Thus saith the Lord.  Because thou hast let
go out of thy hand a man worthy of death, thy life shall be for his
life, and thy people for his people.
20:43. And the king of Israel returned to his house, slighting to hear,
and raging came into Samaria.
3 Kings Chapter 21
Naboth, for denying his vineyard to king Achab, is by Jezabel's
commandment, falsely accused and stoned to death.  For which crime Elias
denounceth to Achab the judgments of God:  upon his humbling himself the
sentence is mitigated.
21:1. And after these things, Naboth the Jezrahelite, who was in
Jezrahel, had at that time a vineyard, near the palace of Achab, king
21:2. And Achab spoke to Naboth, saying:  Give me thy vineyard, that I
may make me a garden of herbs, because it is nigh, and adjoining to my
house; and I will give thee for it a better vineyard:  or if thou think
it more convenient for thee, I will give thee the worth of it in money.
21:3. Naboth answered him:  The Lord be merciful to me, and not let me
give thee the inheritance of my fathers.
21:4. And Achab came into his house angry and fretting, because of the
word that Naboth, the Jezrahelite, had spoken to him, saying:  I will
not give thee the inheritance of my fathers.  And casting himself upon
his bed, he turned away his face to the wall, and would eat no bread.
21:5. And Jezabel, his wife, went in to him, and said to him:  What is
the matter that thy soul is so grieved?  and why eatest thou no bread?
21:6. And he answered her:  I spoke to Naboth, the Jezrahelite, and said
to him:  Give me thy vineyard, and take money for it:  or if it please
thee, I will give thee a better vineyard for it.  And he said:  I will
not give thee my vineyard.
21:7. Then Jezabel, his wife, said to him.  Thou art of great authority
indeed, and governest well the kingdom of Israel.  Arise, and eat bread,
and be of good cheer; I will give thee the vineyard of Naboth, the
Jezrahelite.
21:8. So she wrote letters in Achab's name, and sealed them with his
ring, and sent them to the ancients, and the chief men that were in his
city, and that dwelt with Naboth.
21:9. And this was the tenor of the letters:  Proclaim a fast, and make
Naboth sit among the chief of the people;
21:10. And suborn two men, sons of Belial, against him.  and let them
bear false witness; that he hath blasphemed God and the king:  and then
carry him out, and stone him, and so let him die.
21:11. And the men of his city, the ancients and nobles, that dwelt
with him in the city, did as Jezabel had commanded them, and as it was
written in the letters which she had sent to them;
21:12. They proclaimed a fast, and made Naboth sit among the chief of
21:13. And bringing two men, sons of the devil, they made them sit
against him:  and they, like men of the devil, bore witness against him
before the people:  saying:  Naboth hath blasphemed God and the king.
Wherefore they brought him forth without the city, and stoned him to
21:14. And they sent to Jezabel, saying:  Naboth is stoned, and is dead.
21:15. And it came to pass, when Jezabel heard that Naboth was stoned,
and dead, that she said to Achab:  Arise, and take possession of the
vineyard of Naboth, the Jezrahelite, who would not agree with thee, and
give it thee for money:  for Naboth is not alive, but dead.
21:16. And when Achab heard this, to wit, that Naboth was dead, he
arose, and went down into the vineyard of Naboth, the Jezrahelite, to
take possession of it.
21:17. And the word of the Lord came to Elias, the Thesbite, saying:
21:18. Arise, and go down to meet Achab, king of Israel, who is in
Samaria:  behold he is going down to the vineyard of Naboth, to take
possession of it:
21:19. And thou shalt speak to him, saying:  Thus saith the Lord:  Thou
hast slain:  moreover also thou hast taken possession.  And after these
words thou shalt add:  Thus saith the Lord:  In this place, wherein the
dogs have licked the blood of Naboth, they shall lick thy blood also.
21:20. And Achab said to Elias:  Hast thou found me thy enemy?  He said:
I have found thee because thou art sold, to do evil in the sight of the
Sold, to do evil in the sight, etc. . .That is, so addicted to evil, as
if thou hadst sold thyself to the devil, to be his slave to work all
kinds of evil.
21:21. Behold I will bring evil upon thee, and I will cut down thy
posterity, and I will kill of Achab him that pisseth against the wall,
and him that is shut up, and the last in Israel.
21:22. And I will make thy house like the house of Jeroboam the son of
Nabat, and like the house of Baasa the son of Ahias:  for what thou hast
done to provoke me to anger, and for making Israel to sin.
21:23. And of Jezabel also, the Lord spoke, saying:  The dogs shall eat
Jezabel in the field of Jezrahel.
21:24. If Achab die in the city, the dogs shall eat him:  but if he die
in the field, the birds of the air shall eat him.
21:25. Now, there was not such another as Achab, who was sold to do
evil in the sight of the Lord:  for his wife, Jezabel, set him on,
21:26. And he became abominable, insomuch that he followed the idols
which the Amorrhites had made, whom the Lord destroyed before the face
of the children of Israel.
21:27. And when Achab had heard these words, he rent his garments, and
put haircloth upon his flesh, and fasted, and slept in sackcloth, and
walked with his head cast down.
21:28. And the word of the Lord came to Elias, the Thesbite, saying:
21:29. Hast thou not seen Achab humbled before me?  therefore, because
he hath humbled himself, for my sake, I will not bring the evil in his
days, but in his son's days will I bring the evil upon his house.
3 Kings Chapter 22
Achab believing his false prophets, rather than Micheas, is slain in
Ramoth Galaad.  Ochozias succeedeth him.  Good king Josaphat dieth, and
his son Joram succeedeth him.
22:1. And there passed three years without war between Syria and
22:2. And in the third year, Josaphat, king of Juda, came down to the
king of Israel.
22:3. (And the king of Israel said to his servants:  Know ye not that
Ramoth Galaad is ours, and we neglect to take it out of the hand of the
king of Syria?)
22:4. And he said to Josaphat:  Wilt thou come with me to battle to
Ramoth Galaad?
22:5. And Josaphat said to the king of Israel:  As I am, so art thou:  my
people and thy people are one:  and my horsemen are thy horsemen.  And
Josaphat said to the king of Israel:  Inquire, I beseech thee, this day
the word of the Lord.
22:6. Then the king of Israel assembled the prophets, about four
hundred men, and he said to them:  Shall I go to Ramoth Galaad to fight,
or shall I forbear?  They answered:  Go up, and the Lord will deliver it
into the hand of the king.
22:7. And Josaphat said:  Is there not here some prophet of the Lord,
that we may inquire by him?
22:8. And the king of Israel said to Josaphat.  There is one man left,
by whom we may inquire of the Lord; Micheas, the son of Jemla:  but I
hate him, for he doth not prophecy good to me, but evil.  And Josaphat
said:  Speak not so, O king.
22:9. Then the king of Israel called an eunuch, and said to him:  Make
haste, and bring hither Micheas, the son of Jemla.
22:10. And the king of Israel, and Josaphat, king of Juda, sat each on
his throne, clothed with royal robes, in a court, by the entrance of
the gate of Samaria, and all the prophets prophesied before them.
22:11. And Sedecias, the son of Chanaana, made himself horns of iron,
and said:  Thus saith the Lord:  With these shalt thou push Syria, till
thou destroy it.
22:12. And all the prophets prophesied in like manner, saying:  Go up to
Ramoth Galaad, and prosper, for the Lord will deliver it into the
king's hands.
22:13. And the messenger that went to call Micheas, spoke to him,
saying:  Behold the words of the prophets with one mouth declare good
things to the king:  let thy word, therefore, be like to theirs, and
speak that which is good.
22:14. But Micheas said to him:  As the Lord liveth, whatsoever the Lord
shall say to me, that will I speak.
22:15. So he came to the king, and the king said to him:  Micheas, shall
we go to Ramoth Galaad to battle, or shall we forbear?  He answered him:
Go up, and prosper, and the Lord shall deliver it into the king's
Go up, etc. . .This was spoken ironically, and by way of jesting at the
flattering speeches of the false prophets:  and so the king understood
it, as appears by his adjuring Micheas, in the following verse, to tell
him the truth in the name of the Lord.
22:16. But the king said to him:  I adjure thee again and again, that
thou tell me nothing but that which is true, in the name of the Lord.
22:17. And he said:  I saw all Israel scattered upon the hills, like
sheep that have no shepherd; and the Lord said:  These have no master:
let every man of them return to his house in peace.
22:18. (Then the king of Israel said to Josaphat:  Did I not tell thee,
that he prophesieth no good to me, but always evil?)
22:19. And he added and said:  Hear thou, therefore, the word of the
Lord:  I saw the Lord sitting on his throne, and all the army of heaven
standing by him on the right hand and on the left:
22:20. And the Lord said:  Who shall deceive Achab, king of Israel, that
he may go up, and fall at Ramoth Galaad?  And one spoke words of this
manner, and another otherwise.
The Lord said, etc. . .God standeth not in need of any counsellor; nor
are we to suppose that things pass in heaven in the manner here
described:  but this representation was made to the prophet, to be
delivered by him in a manner adapted to the common ways and notions of
22:21. And there came forth a spirit, and stood before the Lord, and
said:  I will deceive him.  And the Lord said to him:  By what means?
22:22. And he said:  I will go forth, and be a lying spirit, in the
mouth of all his prophets.  And the Lord said:  Thou shalt deceive him,
and shalt prevail:  go forth, and do so.
Go forth, and do so. . .This was not a command, but a permission:  for
God never ordaineth lies; though he often permitteth the lying spirit
to deceive those who love not the truth.  2 Thess. 2.10.  And in this
sense it is said in the following verse, The Lord hath given a lying
spirit in the mouth of all thy prophets.
22:23. Now, therefore, behold the Lord hath given a lying spirit in the
mouth of all thy prophets that are here, and the Lord hath spoken evil
against thee.
22:24. And Sedecias, the son of Chanaana, came, and struck Micheas on
the cheek, and said:  Hath then the spirit of the Lord left me, and
spoken to thee?
22:25. And Micheas said:  Thou shalt see in the day when thou shalt go
into a chamber within a chamber to hide thyself.
Go into a chamber, etc. . .This happened when he heard the king was
slain, and justly apprehended that he should be punished for his false
22:26. And the king of Israel said:  Take Micheas and let him abide with
Amon, the governor of the city, and with Joas, the son of Amalech;
22:27. And tell them:  Thus saith the king:  Put this man in prison, and
feed him with bread of affliction, and water of distress till I return
22:28. And Micheas said:  If thou return in peace, the Lord hath not
spoken by me.  And he said:  Hear, all ye people.
22:29. So the king of Israel, and Josaphat, king of Juda, went up to
Ramoth-Galaad.
22:30. And the king of Israel said to Josaphat:  Take thy armour, and go
into the battle, and put on thy own garments.  But the king of Israel
changed his dress, and went into the battle.
22:31. And the king of Syria had commanded the two and thirty captains
of the chariots, saying:  You shall not fight against any, small or
great, but against the king of Israel only.
22:32. So when the captains of the chariots saw Josaphat, they
suspected that he was the king of Israel, and making a violent assault,
they fought against him:  and Josaphat cried out.
22:33. And the captains of the chariots perceived that he was not the
king of Israel, and they turned away from him.
22:34. And a certain man bent his bow, shooting at a venture, and
chanced to strike the king of Israel, between the lungs and the
stomach.  But he said to the driver of his chariot:  Turn thy hand, and
carry me out of the army, for I am grievously wounded.
22:35. And the battle was fought that day, and the king of Israel stood
in his chariot against the Syrians, and he died in the evening:  and the
blood ran out of the wound into the midst of the chariot.
22:36. And the herald proclaimed through all the army, before the sun
set, saying:  Let every man return to his own city, and to his own
22:37. And the king died, and was carried into Samaria:  and they buried
the king in Samaria.
22:38. And they washed his chariot in the pool of Samaria and the dogs
licked up his blood, and they washed the reins according to the word of
the Lord which he had spoken.
22:39. But the rest of the acts of Achab, and all that he did, and the
house of ivory that he made, and all the cities that he built, are they
not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
22:40. So Achab slept with his fathers; and Ochozias, his son, reigned
in his stead.
22:41. But Josaphat, the son of Asa, began to reign over Juda, in the
fourth year of Acbab, king of Israel.
22:42. He was five and thirty years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned five and twenty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Azuba, the daughter of Salai.
22:43. And he walked in all the way of Asa, his father, and he declined
not from it:  and he did that which was right in the sight of the Lord.
22:44. Nevertheless, he took not away the high places for as yet the
people offered sacrifice, and burnt incense in the high places.
He took not away, etc. . .He left some of the high places, viz., those
in which they worshipped the true God:  but took away all others, 2 Par.
17.6, and note ver. 14 of chap. 15. 3 Kings.
22:45. And Josaphat had peace with the king of Israel.
22:46. But the rest of the acts of Josaphat, and his works which he
did, and his battles, are they not written in the book of the words of
the days of the kings of Juda?
22:47. And the remnant also of the effeminate, who remained in the days
of Asa, his father, he took out of the land.
22:48. And there was then no king appointed in Edom.
22:49. But king Josaphat made navies on the sea, to sail into Ophir for
gold:  but they could not go, for the ships were broken in Asiongaber.
22:50. Then Ochozias, the son of Achab, said to Josaphat:  Let my
servants go with thy servants in the ships.  And Josaphat would not.
Would not. . .He had been reprehended before for admitting such a
partner:  and therefore would have no more to do with him.
22:51. And Josaphat slept with his fathers, and was buried with them in
the city of David, his father:  and Joram, his son, reigned in his
22:52. And Ochozias, the son of Achab, began to reign over Israel, in
Samaria, in the seventeenth year of Josaphat, king of Juda, and he
reigned over Israel two years.
22:53. And he did evil in the sight of the Lord, and walked in the way
of his father and his mother, and in the way of Jeroboam, the son of
Nabat, who made Israel to sin.
22:54. He served also Baal, and worshipped him, and provoked the Lord,
the God of Israel, according to all that his father had done.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF KINGS
4 Kings Chapter 1
Ochozias sendeth to consult Beelzebub:  Elias foretelleth his death:  and
causeth fire to come down from heaven, upon two captains and their
1:1. And Moab rebelled against Israel, after the death of Achab.
1:2. And Ochozias fell through the lattices of his upper chamber, which
he had in Samaria, and was sick:  and he sent messengers, saying to
them:  Go, consult Beelzebub, the god of Accaron, whether I shall
recover of this my illness.
1:3. And an angel of the Lord spoke to Elias, the Thesbite, saying:
Arise, and go up to meet the messengers of the king of Samaria, and say
to them:  Is there not a God in Israel, that ye go to consult Beelzebub,
the god of Accaron?
1:4. Wherefore, thus saith the Lord:  From the bed, on which thou art
gone up, thou shalt not come down, but thou shalt surely die.  And Elias
1:5. And the messengers turned back to Ochozias.  And he said to them:
Why are you come back?
1:6. But they answered him:  A man met us, and said to us:  Go, and
return to the king, that sent you, and you shall say to him:  Thus saith
the Lord:  Is it because there was no God in Israel, that thou sendest
to Beelzebub, the god of Accaron?  Therefore thou shalt not come down
from the bed, on which thou art gone up, but thou shalt surely die.
1:7. And he said to them:  What manner of man was he who met you, and
spoke these words?
1:8. But they said:  A hairy man, with a girdle of leather about his
loins.  And he said:  It is Elias, the Thesbite.
1:9. And he sent to him a captain of fifty, and the fifty men that were
under him.  And he went up to him, and as he was sitting on the top of a
hill, he said to him:  Man of God, the king hath commanded that thou
1:10. And Elias answering, said to the captain of fifty:  If I be a man
of God, let fire come down from heaven and consume thee, and thy fifty.
And there came down fire from heaven and consumed him, and the fifty
that were with him.
Let fire, etc. . .Elias was inspired to call for fire from heaven upon
these captains, who came to apprehend him; not out of a desire to
gratify any private passion; but to punish the insult offered to
religion, to confirm his mission, and to shew how vain are the efforts
of men against God, and his servants, whom he willeth to protect.
1:11. And he again sent to him another captain of fifty men, and his
fifty with him.  And he said to him:  Man of God:  Thus saith the king:
Make haste and come down.
1:12. Elias answering, said:  If I be a man of God, let fire come down
from heaven, and consume thee, and thy fifty.  And fire came down from
heaven, and consumed him and his fifty.
1:13. Again he sent a third captain of fifty men, and the fifty that
were with him.  And when he was come, he fell upon his knees before
Elias, and besought him, and said:  Man of God, despise not my life, and
the lives of thy servants that are with me.
1:14. Behold fire came down from heaven, and consumed the two first
captains of fifty men, and the fifties that were with them:  but now I
beseech thee to spare my life.
1:15. And the angel of the Lord spoke to Elias, saying:  Go down with
him, fear not.  He arose therefore, and went down with him to the king,
1:16. And said to him:  Thus saith the Lord:  Because thou hast sent
messengers to consult Beelzebub, the god of Accaron, as though there
were not a God in Israel, of whom thou mightest inquire the word;
therefore, from the bed on which thou art gone up, thou shalt not come
down, but thou shalt surely die.
1:17. So he died, according to the word of the Lord, which Elias spoke;
and Joram, his brother, reigned in his stead, in the second year of
Joram, the son of Josaphat, king of Juda, because he had no son.
The second year of Joram, etc. . .Counted from the time that he was
associated to the throne by his father Josaphat.
1:18. But the rest of the acts of Ochozias, which he did, are they not
written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Israel?
4 Kings Chapter 2
Eliseus will not part from Elias.  The water of the Jordan is divided by
Elias' cloak.  Elias is taken up in a fiery chariot, and his double
spirit is given to Eliseus.  Eliseus healeth the waters by casting in
salt.  Boys are torn by bears for mocking Eliseus.
2:1. And it came to pass, when the Lord would take up Elias, into
heaven, by a whirlwind, that Elias and Eliseus were going from Galgal.
Heaven. . .By heaven here is meant the air, the lowest of the heavenly
2:2. And Elias said to Eliseus:  Stay thou here, because the Lord hath
sent me as far as Bethel.  And Eliseus said to him:  As the Lord liveth,
and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee.  And when they were come
down to Bethel,
2:3. The sons of the prophets, that were at Bethel, came forth to
Eliseus, and said to him:  Dost thou know that, this day, the Lord will
take away thy master from thee?  And he answered:  I also know it:  hold
The sons of the prophets. . .That is, the disciples of the prophets; who
seem to have had their schools, like colleges or communities, in
Bethel, Jericho, and other places in the days of Elias and Eliseus.
2:4. And Elias said to Eliseus:  Stay here, because the Lord hath sent
me to Jericho.  And he said:  As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth,
I will not leave thee.  And when they were come to Jericho,
2:5. The sons of the prophets, that were at Jericho, came to Eliseus,
and said to him:  Dost thou know that, this day, the Lord will take away
thy master from thee?  And he said:  I also know it:  hold your peace.
2:6. And Elias said to him:  Stay here, because the Lord hath sent me as
far as the Jordan.  And he said:  as the Lord liveth, and as thy soul
liveth, I will not leave thee.  And they two went on together.
2:7. And fifty men, of the sons of the prophets, followed them, and
stood in sight, at a distance:  but they two stood by the Jordan.
2:8. And Elias took his mantle, and folded it together, and struck the
waters, and they were divided hither and thither, and they both passed
over on dry ground.
2:9. And when they were gone over, Elias said to Eliseus:  Ask what thou
wilt have me to do for thee, before I be taken away from thee.  And
Eliseus said:  I beseech thee, that in me may be thy double spirit.
Double spirit. . .A double portion of thy spirit, as the eldest son and
heir:  or thy spirit which is double in comparison of that which God
usually imparteth to his prophets.
2:10. And he answered:  Thou hast asked a hard thing; nevertheless, if
thou see me when I am taken from thee, thou shalt have what thou hast
asked:  but if thou see me not, thou shalt not have it.
2:11. And as they went on, walking and talking together, behold, a
fiery chariot and fiery horses parted them both asunder:  and Elias went
up by a whirlwind into heaven.
2:12. And Eliseus saw him, and cried:  My father, my father, the chariot
of Israel, and the driver thereof.  And he saw him no more:  and he took
hold of his own garments, and rent them in two pieces.
2:13. And he took up the mantle of Elias, that fell from him:  and going
back, he stood on the bank of the Jordan;
2:14. And he struck the waters with the mantle of Elias, that had
fallen from him, and they were not divided.  And he said:  Where is now
the God of Elias?  And he struck the waters, and they were divided
hither and thither, and Eliseus passed over.
2:15. And the sons of the prophets, at Jericho, who were over against
him, seeing it, said:  The spirit of Elias hath rested upon Eliseus.  And
coming to meet him, they worshipped him, falling to the ground.
They worshipped him. . .viz., with an inferior, yet religious
veneration, not for any temporal, but spiritual excellency.
2:16. And they said to him:  Behold, there are with thy servants, fifty
strong men, that can go, and seek thy master, lest, perhaps, the spirit
of the Lord, hath taken him up and cast him upon some mountain, or into
some valley.  And he said:  Do not send.
2:17. But they pressed him, till he consented, and said:  Send.  And they
sent fifty men:  and they sought three days, but found him not.
2:18. And they came back to him:  for he abode at Jericho, and he said
to them:  Did I not say to you?  Do not send.
2:19. And the men of the city, said to Eliseus .  Behold the situation
of this city is very good, as thou, my lord, seest:  but the waters are
very bad, and the ground barren.
2:20. And he said:  Bring me a new vessel, and put salt into it.  And
when they had brought it,
2:21. He went out to the spring of the waters, and cast the salt into
it, and said:  Thus saith the Lord:  I have healed these waters, and
there shall be no more in them death or barrenness.
2:22. And the waters were healed unto this day, according to the word
of Eliseus, which he spoke.
2:23. And he went up from thence to Bethel:  and as he was going up by
the way, little boys came out of the city and mocked him, saying:  Go
up, thou bald head, go up, thou bald head.
2:24. And looking back, he saw them, and cursed them in the name of the
Lord:  and there came forth two bears out of the forest, and tore of
them, two and forty boys.
Cursed them. . .This curse, which was followed by so visible a judgment
of God, was not the effect of passion, or of a desire of revenging
himself; but of zeal for religion, which was insulted by these boys, in
the person of the prophet; and of a divine inspiration:  God punishing
in this manner the inhabitants of Bethel, (the chief seat of the calf
worship,) who had trained up their children in a prejudice against the
true religion and its ministers.
2:25. And from thence he went to mount Carmel, and from thence he
returned to Samaria.
4 Kings Chapter 3
The kings of Israel, Juda, and Edom, fight against the king of Moab.
They want water, which Eliseus procureth without rain:  and prophesieth
victory.  The king of Moab is overthrown, his city is besieged:  he
sacrificeth his firstborn son:  so the Israelites raise the siege.
3:1. And Joram the son of Achab, reigned over Israel, in Samaria, in
the eighteenth year of Josaphat, king of Juda.  And he reigned twelve
3:2. And he did evil before the Lord, but not like his father and his
mother:  for he took away the statues of Baal, which his father had
3:3. Nevertheless, he stuck to the sins of Jeroboam, the son of Nabat,
who made Israel to sin, nor did he depart from them.
3:4. Now Mesa, king of Moab, nourished many sheep, and he paid to the
king of Israel a hundred thousand lambs, and a hundred thousand rams,
with their fleeces.
3:5. And when Achab was dead, he broke the league which he had made
with the king of Israel.
3:6. And king Joram went out that day from Samaria, and mustered all
3:7. And he sent to Josaphat; king of Juda, saying:  The king of Moab is
revolted from me:  come with me against him to battle.  And he answered:
I will come up:  he that is mine, is thine:  my people are thy people:
and my horses, thy horses.
3:8. And he said:  Which way shall we go up?  But he answered:  By the
desert of Edom.
3:9. So the king of Israel, and the king of Juda, and the king of Edom,
went, and they fetched a compass of seven days journey, and there was
no water for the army, and for the beasts, that followed them.
3:10. And the king of Israel said:  Alas, alas, alas, the Lord hath
gathered us three kings together, to deliver us into the hands of Moab.
3:11. And Josaphat said:  Is there not here a prophet of the Lord, that
we may beseech the Lord by him?  And one of the servants of the king of
Israel answered:  Here is Eliseus, the son of Saphat, who poured water
on the hands of Elias.
3:12. And Josaphat said:  The word of the Lord is with him.  And the king
of Israel, and Josaphat, king of Juda, and the king of Edom, went down
3:13. And Eliseus said to the king of Israel:  What have I to do with
thee?  go to the prophets of thy father, and thy mother.  And the king of
Israel said to him:  Why hath the Lord gathered together these three
kings, to deliver them into the hands of Moab?
3:14. And Eliseus said to him:  As the Lord of hosts liveth, in whose
sight I stand, if I did not reverence the face of Josaphat, king of
Juda, I would not have hearkened to thee, nor looked on thee.
3:15. But now bring me hither a minstrel.  And when the minstrel played,
the hand of the Lord came upon him, and he said:
3:16. Thus saith the Lord:  Make the channel of this torrent full of
3:17. For thus saith the Lord:  You shall not see wind, nor rain:  and
yet this channel shall be filled with waters, and you shall drink, you
and your families, and your beasts.
3:18. And this is a small thing in the sight of the Lord:  moreover, he
will deliver, also, Moab into your hands.
3:19. And you shall destroy every fenced city, and every choice city,
and shall cut down every fruitful tree, and shall stop up all the
springs of waters, and every goodly field you shall cover with stones.
3:20. And it came to pass, in the morning, when the sacrifices used to
be offered, that behold, water came by the way of Edom, and the country
was filled with water.
3:21. And all the Moabites hearing that the kings were come up to fight
against them, gathered together all that were girded with a belt upon
them, and stood in the borders.
3:22. And they rose early in the morning, and the sun being now up, and
shining upon the waters, the Moabites saw the waters over against them
red, like blood,
3:23. And they said:  It is the blood of the sword:  the kings have
fought among themselves, and they have killed one another:  go now,
Moab, to the spoils.
3:24. And they went into the camp of Israel:  but Israel rising up,
defeated Moab, who fled before them.  And they being conquerors, went
and smote Moab.
3:25. And they destroyed the cities:  And they filled every goodly
field, every man casting his stone:  and they stopt up all the springs
of waters:  and cut down all the trees that bore fruit, so that brick
walls only remained:  and the city was beset by the slingers, and a
great part thereof destroyed.
Brick walls only remained. . .It was the proper name of the capital city
of the Moabites.  In Hebrew, Kir-Haraseth.
3:26. And when the king of Moab saw this, to wit, that the enemies had
prevailed, he took with him seven hundred men that drew the sword, to
break in upon the king of Edom:  but they could not.
3:27. Then he took his eldest son, that should have reigned in his
stead, and offered him for a burnt offering upon the wall:  and there
was great indignation in Israel, and presently they departed from him,
and returned into their own country.
4 Kings Chapter 4
Miracles of Eliseus.  He raiseth a dead child to life.
4:1. Now a certain woman of the wives of the prophets, cried to
Eliseus, saying:  Thy servant, my husband, is dead, and thou knowest
that thy servant was one that feared God, and behold the creditor is
come to take away my two sons to serve him.
4:2. And Eliseus said to her:  What wilt thou have me do for thee?  Tell
me, what hast thou in thy house?  And she answered:  I, thy handmaid,
have nothing in my house but a little oil, to anoint me.
4:3. And he said to her:  Go, borrow of all thy neighbours empty
vessels, not a few.
4:4. And go in, and shut thy door, when thou art within, and thy sons:
and pour out thereof into all those vessels:  and when they are full,
take them away.
4:5. So the woman went, and shut the door upon her, and upon her sons:
they brought her the vessels, and she poured in.
4:6. And when the vessels were full, she said to her son:  Bring me yet
a vessel.  And he answered:  I have no more.  And the oil stood.
4:7. And she came, and told the man of God.  And he said:  Go, sell the
oil, and pay thy creditor:  and thou and thy sons live of the rest.
4:8. And there was a day when Eliseus passed by Sunam:  now there was a
great woman there, who detained him to eat bread:  and as he passed
often that way, he turned into her house to eat bread.
4:9. And she said to her husband:  I perceive that this is a holy man of
God, who often passeth by us.
4:10. Let us, therefore, make him a little chamber, and put a little
bed in it for him, and a table, and a stool, and a candlestick, that
when he cometh to us he may abide there.
4:11. Now, there was a certain day, when he came, and turned into the
chamber, and rested there.
4:12. And he said to Giezi, his servant:  Call this Sunamitess.  And when
he had called her, and she stood before him,
4:13. He said to his servant:  Say to her:  Behold, thou hast diligently
served us in all things; what wilt thou have me to do for thee?  Hast
thou any business, and wilt thou, that I speak to the king, or to the
general of the army?  And she answered:  I dwell in the midst of my own
4:14. And he said:  What will she then that I do for her?  And Giezi
said:  Do not ask, for she hath no son, and her husband is old.
4:15. Then he bid him call her.  And when she was called, and stood
before the door,
4:16. He said to her:  At this time, and this same hour, if life be in
company, thou shalt have a son in thy womb.  But she answered:  Do not, I
beseech thee, my lord, thou man of God, do not lie to thy handmaid.
4:17. And the woman conceived, and brought forth a son in the time, and
at the same hour that Eliseus had said.
4:18. And the child grew.  And on a certain day, when he went out to his
father to the reapers,
4:19. He said to his father:  My head acheth, my head acheth.  But he
said to his servant.  Take him, and carry him to his mother.
4:20. And when he had taken him, and brought him to his mother, she sat
him on her knees, until noon, and then he died.
4:21. And she went up, and laid him upon the bed of the man of God, and
shut the door:  and going out,
4:22. She called her husband, and said:  Send with me, I beseech thee,
one of thy servants, and an ass, that I may run to the man of God, and
4:23. And he said to her:  Why dost thou go to him?  to day is neither
new moon nor sabbath.  She answered:  I will go.
4:24. And she saddled an ass, and commanded her servant:  Drive, and
make haste, make no stay in going:  And do that which I bid thee.
4:25. So she went forward, and came to the man of God, to mount Carmel:
and when the man of God saw her coming towards, he said to Giezi, his
servant:  Behold that Sunamitess.
4:26. Go, therefore, to meet her, and say to her:  Is all well with
thee, and with thy husband, and with thy son?  And she answered:  Well.
4:27. And when she came to the man of God, to the mount, she caught
hold on his feet:  and Giezi came to remove her.  And the man of God
said:  Let her alone for her soul is in anguish, and the Lord hath hid
it from me, and hath not told me.
4:28. And she said to him:  Did I ask a son of my lord?  did I not say to
thee:  Do not deceive me?
4:29. Then he said to Giezi:  Gird up thy loins, and take my staff in
thy hand, and go.  If any man meet thee, salute him not:  and if any man
salute thee, answer him not:  and lay my staff upon the face of the
Salute him not. . .He that is sent to raise to life the sinner
spiritually dead, must not suffer himself to be called off, or diverted
from his enterprise, by the salutations or ceremonies of the world.
4:30. But the mother of the child said:  As the Lord liveth, and as thy
soul liveth, I will not leave thee.  He arose, therefore, and followed
4:31. But Giezi was gone before them, and laid the staff upon the face
of the child, and there was no voice nor sense:  and he returned to meet
him, and told him, saying:  The child is not risen.
St. Augustine considers a great mystery in this miracle wrought by the
prophet Eliseus, thus:  By the staff sent by his servant is figured the
rod of Moses, or the Old Law, which was not sufficient to bring mankind
to life then dead in sin.  It was necessary that Christ himself should
come, and by taking on human nature, become flesh of our flesh, and
restore us to life.  In this Eliseus was a figure of Christ, as it was
necessary that he should come himself to bring the dead child to life
and restore him to his mother, who is here, in a mystical sense, a
figure of the Church.
4:32. Eliseus, therefore, went into the house, and behold the child lay
dead on his bed:
4:33. And going in, he shut the door upon him, and upon the child, and
prayed to the Lord.
4:34. And he went up, and lay upon the child:  and put his mouth upon
his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands:
and he bowed himself upon him, and the child's flesh grew warm.
4:35. Then he returned and walked in the house, once to and fro:  and he
went up, and lay upon him:  and the child gaped seven times, and opened
4:36. And he called Giezi, and said to him:  Call this Sunamitess.  And
she being called, went in to him:  and he said:  Take up thy son.
4:37. She came and fell at his feet, and worshipped upon the ground:
and took up her son, and went out.
4:38. And Eliseus returned to Galgal, and there was a famine in the
land, and the sons of the prophets dwelt before him:  And he said to one
of his servants:  Set on the great pot, and boil pottage for the sons of
the prophets.
4:39. And one went out into the field to gather wild herbs:  and he
found something like a wild vine, and gathered of it wild gourds of the
field, and filled his mantle, and coming back, he shred them into the
pot of pottage; for he knew not what it was.
Wild gourds of the field. . .Colocynthidas.  They are extremely bitter,
and therefore are called the gall of the earth; and are poisonous if
taken in a great quantity.
4:40. And they poured it out for their companions to eat:  and when they
had tasted of the pottage, they cried out, saying:  Death is in the pot,
O man of God.  And they could not eat thereof.
4:41. But he said:  Bring some meal.  And when they had brought it, he
cast it into the pot, and said:  Pour out for the people, that they may
eat.  And there was now no bitterness in the pot.
4:42. And a certain man came from Baalsalisa, bringing to the man of
God, bread of the firstfruits, twenty loaves of barley, and new corn in
his scrip.  And he said:  Give to the people, that they may eat.
4:43. And his servant answered him:  How much is this, that I should set
it before a hundred men?  He said again:  Give to the people, that they
may eat:  for thus saith the Lord:  They shall eat, and there shall be
4:44. So he set it before them:  and they ate, and there was left,
according to the word of the Lord.
4 Kings Chapter 5
Naaman the Syrian is cleansed of his leprosy.  He professeth his belief
in one God, promising to serve him.  Giezi taketh gifts of Naaman, and
is struck with leprosy.
5:1. Naaman, general of the army, of the king of Syria, was a great man
with his master, and honourable:  for by him the Lord gave deliverance
to Syria:  and he was a valiant man, and rich, but a leper.
5:2. Now there had gone out robbers from Syria, and had led away
captive out of the land of Israel, a little maid, and she waited upon
Naaman's wife.
5:3. And she said to her mistress:  I wish my master had been with the
prophet that is in Samaria:  he would certainly have healed him of the
leprosy which he hath.
5:4. Then Naaman went in to his lord, and told him, saying:  Thus and
thus said the girl from the land of Israel.
5:5. And the king of Syria said to him:  Go; and I will send a letter to
the king of Israel.  And he departed, and took with him ten talents of
silver, and six thousand pieces of gold, and ten changes of raiment;
5:6. And brought the letter to the king of Israel, in these words:  When
thou shalt receive this letter, know that I have sent to thee Naaman,
my servant, that thou mayst heal him of his leprosy.
5:7. And when the king of Israel had read the letter, he rent his
garments, and said:  Am I God, to be able to kill and give life, that
this man hath sent to me to heal a man of his leprosy?  mark, and see
how he seeketh occasions against me.
5:8. And when Eliseus, the man of God, had heard this, to wit, that the
king of Israel had rent his garments, he sent to him, saying:  Why hast
thou rent thy garments?  let him come to me, and let him know that there
is a prophet in Israel.
5:9. So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and stood at the door
of the house of Eliseus:
5:10. And Eliseus sent a messenger to him, saying:  Go, and wash seven
times in the Jordan, and thy flesh shall recover health, and thou shalt
5:11. Naaman was angry, and went away, saying:  I thought he would have
come out to me, and standing, would have invoked the name of the Lord
his God, and touched with his hand the place of the leprosy, and healed
5:12. Are not the Abana, and the Pharphar, rivers of Damascus, better
than all the waters of Israel, that I may wash in them, and be made
clean?  So as he turned, and was going away with indignation,
5:13. His servants came to him, and said to him:  Father, if the prophet
had bid thee do some great thing, surely thou shouldst have done it:
how much rather what he now hath said to thee:  Wash, and thou shalt be
5:14. Then he went down, and washed in the Jordan seven times,
according to the word of the man of God; and his flesh was restored,
like the flesh of a little child:  and he was made clean.
5:15. And returning to the man of God, with all his train, he came, and
stood before him, and said:  In truth, I know there is no other God, in
all the earth, but only in Israel:  I beseech thee, therefore, take a
blessing of thy servant.
A blessing. . .a present.
5:16. But he answered:  As the Lord liveth, before whom I stand, I will
receive none.  And when he pressed him, he still refused.
5:17. And Naaman said:  As thou wilt:  but I beseech thee, grant to me,
thy servant, to take from hence two mules' burden of earth:  for thy
servant will not henceforth offer holocaust, or victim, to other gods,
but to the Lord.
5:18. But there is only this, for which thou shalt entreat the Lord for
thy servant; when my master goeth into the temple of Remmon, to worship
there, and he leaneth on my hand:  if I bow down in the temple of
Remmon, when he boweth down in the same place, that the Lord pardon me,
thy servant, for this thing.
5:19. And he said to him:  Go in peace.  So he departed from him, in the
spring time of the earth.
Go in peace. . .What the prophet here allowed, was not an outward
conformity to an idolatrous worship; but only a service which by his
office he owed to his master:  who on all public occasions leaned on
him:  so that his bowing down when his master bowed himself down was not
in effect adoring the idols:  nor was it so understood by the standers
by, since he publicly professed himself a worshipper of the only true
and living God, but it was no more than doing a civil office to the
king his master, whose leaning upon him obliged him to bow at the same
time that he bowed.
5:20. But Giezi, the servant of the man of God, said:  My master hath
spared Naaman this Syrian, in not receiving of him that which he
brought:  as the Lord liveth, I will run after him, and take something
5:21. And Giezi followed after Naaman:  and when he saw him running
after him, he leapt down from his chariot to meet him, and said:  Is all
5:22. And he said:  Well:  my master hath sent me to thee, saying:  Just
now there are come to me from mount Ephraim, two young men of the sons
of the prophets:  give them a talent of silver, and two changes of
5:23. And Naaman said:  It is better that thou take two talents.  And he
forced him, and bound two talents of silver in two bags, and two
changes of garments, and laid them upon two of his servants, and they
carried them before him.
5:24. And when he was come, and now it was the evening, he took them
from their hands, and laid them up in the house, and sent the men away,
and they departed.
5:25. But he went in, and stood before his master.  And Eliseus said:
Whence comest thou, Giezi?  He answered:  Thy servant went no whither.
5:26. But he said:  Was not my heart present, when the man turned back,
from his chariot, to meet thee?  So now thou hast received money, and
received garments, to buy oliveyards and vineyards, and sheep, and
oxen, and men-servants, and maid-servants.
5:27. But the leprosy of Naaman, shall also stick to thee, and to thy
seed for ever.  And he went out from him a leper, as white as snow.
4 Kings Chapter 6
Eliseus maketh iron to swim upon the water:  he leadeth the Syrians that
were sent to apprehend him into Samaria, where there eyes being opened,
they are courteously entertained.  The Syrians besiege Samaria:  the
famine there causeth a woman to eat her own child.  Upon this the king
commandeth Eliseus to be put to death.
6:1. And the sons of the prophets said to Eliseus:  Behold, the place
where we dwell with thee is too strait for us.
6:2. Let us go as far as the Jordan, and take out of the wood every man
a piece of timber, that we may build us there a place to dwell in.  And
he said:  Go.
6:3. And one of them said:  But come thou also with thy servants.  He
answered:  I will come.
6:4. So he went with them.  And when they were come to the Jordan, they
cut down wood.
6:5. And it happened, as one was felling some timber, that the head of
the ax fell into the water:  and he cried out, and said:  Alas, alas,
alas, my lord, for this same was borrowed.
6:6. And the man of God said:  Where did it fall?  and he shewed him the
place:  Then he cut off a piece of wood, and cast it in thither:  and the
6:7. And he said:  Take it up.  And he put out his hand, and took it.
6:8. And the king of Syria warred against Israel, and took counsel with
his servants, saying:  In such and such a place, let us lay an ambush.
6:9. And the man of God sent to the king of Israel, saying:  Beware that
thou pass not to such a place:  for the Syrians are there in ambush.
6:10. And the king of Israel, sent to the place which the man of God
had told him, and prevented him, and looked well to himself there not
once nor twice.
6:11. And the heart of the king of Syria, was troubled for this thing.
And calling together his servants, he said:  Why do you not tell me who
it is that betrays me to the king of Israel?
6:12. And one of his servants said:  No one, my lord, O king:  but
Eliseus, the prophet, that is in Israel, telleth the king of Israel all
the words, that thou speakest in thy privy chamber.
6:13. And he said to them:  Go, and see where he is:  that I may send and
take him.  And they told him:  saying:  Behold he is in Dothan.
6:14. Therefore, he sent thither horses, and chariots, and the strength
of an army:  and they came by night, and beset the city.
6:15. And the servant of the man of God, rising early went out, and saw
an army round about the city, and horses and chariots:  and he told him,
saying:  Alas, alas, alas, my lord, what shall we do?
6:16. But he answered:  Fear not:  for there are more with us than with
6:17. And Eliseus prayed, and said:  Lord, open his eyes, that he may
see.  And the Lord opened the eyes of the servant, and he saw:  and
behold, the mountain was full of horses, and chariots of fire round
about Eliseus.
6:18. And the enemies came down to him:  but Eliseus prayed to the Lord,
saying:  Strike, I beseech thee, this people with blindness:  and the
Lord struck them with blindness, according to the word of Eliseus.
Blindness. . .The blindness here spoken of was of a particular kind,
which hindered them from seeing the objects that were really before
them; and represented other different objects to their imagination:  so
that they no longer perceived the city of Dothan, nor were able to know
the person of Eliseus; but were easily led by him, whom they took to be
another man, to Samaria.  So that he truly told them, this is not the
way, neither is this the city, etc., because he spoke with relation to
the way and to the city, which was represented to them.
6:19. And Eliseus said to them:  This is not the way, neither is this
the city:  follow me, and I will shew you the man whom you seek.  So he
led them into Samaria.
6:20. And when they were come into Samaria, Eliseus said:  Lord, open
the eyes of these men, that they may see.  And the Lord opened their
eyes, and they saw themselves to be in the midst of Samaria.
6:21. And the king of Israel said to Eliseus, when he saw them:  My
father, shall I kill them?
6:22. And he said:  Thou shalt not kill them:  for thou didst not take
them with thy sword, or thy bow, that thou mayst kill them:  but set
bread and water before them, that they may eat and drink, and go to
their master.
6:23. And a great provision of meats was set before them, and they ate
and drank; and he let them go:  and they went away to their master:  and
the robbers of Syria came no more into the land of Israel.
6:24. And it came to pass, after these things, that Benadad, king of
Syria, gathered together all his army, and went up and besieged
6:25. And there was a great famine in Samaria:  and so long did the
siege continue, till the head of an ass was sold for fourscore pieces
of silver, and the fourth part of a cabe of pigeons' dung, for five
pieces of silver.
6:26. And as the king of Israel was passing by the wall, a certain
woman cried out to him, saying:  Save me, my lord, O king.
6:27. And he said:  If the Lord doth not save thee, how can I save thee?
out of the barnfloor, or out of the winepress?  And the king said to
her:  What aileth thee?  And she answered:
6:28. This woman said to me:  Give thy son, that we may eat him today,
and we will eat my son tomorrow.
6:29. So we boiled my son, and ate him.  And I said to her on the next
day:  Give thy son, that we may eat him.  And she hath hid her son.
6:30. When the king heard this, he rent his garments, and passed by
upon the wall.  And all the people saw the haircloth which he wore
within next to his flesh.
6:31. And the king said:  May God do so and so to me, and may he add
more, if the head of Eliseus, the son of Saphat, shall stand on him
6:32. But Eliseus sat in his house, and the ancients sat with him.  So
he sent a man before:  and before that messenger came, he said to the
ancients:  Do you know that this son of a murderer hath sent to cut off
my head?  Look then when the messenger shall come, shut the door, and
suffer him not to come in:  for behold the sound of his master's feet is
6:33. While he was yet speaking to them, the messenger appeared, who
was coming to him.  And he said:  Behold, so great an evil is from the
Lord:  what shall I look for more from the Lord?
4 Kings Chapter 7
Eliseus prophesieth a great plenty, which presently ensueth upon the
sudden flight of the Syrians; of which four lepers bring the news to
the city.  The incredulous nobleman is trod to death.
7:1. And Eliseus said:  Hear ye the word of the Lord:  Thus saith the
Lord:  Tomorrow, about this time, a bushel of fine flour shall be sold
for a stater, and two bushels of barley for a stater, in the gate of
A stater. . .It is the same as a sicle or shekel.
7:2. Then one of the lords, upon whose hand the king leaned, answering
the man of God, said:  If the Lord should make flood-gates in heaven,
can that possibly be which thou sayest?  And he said:  Thou shalt see it
with thy eyes, but shalt not eat thereof.
7:3. Now there were four lepers, at the entering in of the gate:  and
they said one to another:  What mean we to stay here till we die?
7:4. If we will enter into the city, we shall die with the famine:  and
if we will remain here, we must also die:  come therefore, and let us
run over to the camp of the Syrians.  If they spare us, we shall live:
but if they kill us, we shall but die.
7:5. So they arose in the evening, to go to the Syrian camp.  And when
they were come to the first part of the camp of the Syrians, they found
no man there.
7:6. For the Lord had made them hear, in the camp of Syria, the noise
of chariots, and of horses, and of a very great army:  and they said one
to another:  Behold, the king of Israel hath hired against us the kings
of the Hethites, and of the Egyptians; and they are come upon us.
7:7. Wherefore they arose, and fled away in the dark, and left their
tents, and their horses and asses in the camp, and fled, desiring to
save their lives.
7:8. So when these lepers were come to the beginning of the camp, they
went into one tent, and ate and drank:  and they took from thence
silver, and gold, and raiment, and went, and hid it:  and they came
again, and went into another tent, and carried from thence in like
manner, and hid it.
7:9. Then they said one to another:  We do not well:  for this is a day
of good tidings.  If we hold our peace, and do not tell it till the
morning, we shall be charged with a crime:  come, let us go, and tell it
in the king's court.
7:10. So they came to the gate of the city, and told them, saying:  We
went to the camp of the Syrians, and we found no man there, but horses,
and asses tied, and the tents standing.
7:11. Then the guards of the gate went, and told it within in the
king's palace.
7:12. And he arose in the night, and said to his servants:  I tell you
what the Syrians have done to us:  They know that we suffer great
famine, and therefore they are gone out of the camp, and lie hid in the
fields, saying:  When they come out of the city, we shall take them
alive, and then we may get into the city.
7:13. And one of his servants answered:  Let us take the five horses
that are remaining in the city (because there are no more in the whole
multitude of Israel, for the rest are consumed), and let us send and
7:14. They brought therefore two horses, and the king sent into the
camp of the Syrians, saying:  Go, and see.
7:15. And they went after them, as far as the Jordan:  and behold, all
the way was full of garments, and vessels, which the Syrians had cast
away, in their fright, and the messengers returned, and told the king.
7:16. And the people going out, pillaged the camp of the Syrians:  and a
bushel of fine flour was sold for a stater, and two bushels of barley
for a stater, according to the word of the Lord.
7:17. And the king appointed that lord on whose hand he leaned, to
stand at the gate:  and the people trod upon him in the entrance of the
gate; and he died, as the man of God had said, when the king came down
7:18. And it came to pass, according to the word of the man of God,
which he spoke to the king, when he said:  Two bushels of barley shall
be for a stater, and a bushel of fine flour for a stater, at this very
time tomorrow, in the gate of Samaria.
7:19. When that lord answered the man of God, and said:  Although the
Lord should make flood-gates in heaven, could this come to pass which
thou sayest?  And he said to him:  Thou shalt see it with thy eyes, and
shalt not eat thereof.
7:20. And so it fell out to him, as it was foretold, and the people
trod upon him in the gate, and he died.
4 Kings Chapter 8
After seven years' famine foretold by Eliseus, the Sunamitess returning
home, recovereth her lands, and revenues.  Eliseus foresheweth the death
of Benadad, king of Syria, and the reign of Hazael.  Joram's wicked
reign in Juda.  He dieth, and his son Ochozias succeedeth.
8:1.And Eliseus spoke to the woman, whose son he had restored to life,
saying:  Arise, and go thou, and thy household, and sojourn wheresoever
thou canst find:  for the Lord hath called a famine, and it shall come
upon the land seven years.
8:2. And she arose, and did according to the word of the man of God:
and going with her household, she sojourned in the land of the
Philistines many days.
8:3. And when the seven years were ended, the woman returned out of the
land of the Philistines, and she went forth to speak to the king for
her house and for her lands.
8:4. And the king talked with Giezi, the servant of the man of God,
saying:  Tell me all the great things that Eliseus hath done.
8:5. And when he was telling the king how he had raised one dead to
life, the woman appeared, whose son he had restored to life, crying to
the king for her house, and her lands.  And Giezi said:  My lord, O king,
this is the woman, and this is her son, whom Eliseus raised to life.
8:6. And the king asked the woman:  and she told him.  And the king
appointed her an eunuch, saying:  Restore her all that is hers, and all
the revenues of the lands, from the day that she left the land to this
8:7. Eliseus also came to Damascus, and Benadad, king of Syria was
sick; and they told him, saying:  The man of God is come hither.
8:8. And the king said to Hazael:  Take with thee presents, and go to
meet the man of God, and consult the Lord by him, saying:  Can I recover
of this my illness?
8:9. And Hazael went to meet him, taking with him presents, and all the
good things of Damascus, the burdens of forty camels.  And when he stood
before him, he said:  Thy son, Benadad, the king of Syria, hath sent me
to thee, saying:  Can I recover of this my illness?
8:10. And Eliseus said to him:  Go tell him:  Thou shalt recover:  but
the Lord hath shewed me that he shall surely die.
Tell him:  thou shalt recover. . .By these words the prophet signified
that the king's disease was not mortal:  and that he would recover if no
violence were used.  Or he might only express himself in this manner, by
way of giving Hazael to understand that he knew both what he would say
and do; that he would indeed tell the king he should recover; but would
be himself the instrument of his death.
8:11. And he stood with him, and was troubled so far as to blush:  and
the man of God wept.
8:12. And Hazael said to him:  Why doth my lord weep?  And he said:
Because I know the evil that thou wilt do to the children of Israel.
Their strong cities thou wilt burn with fire, and their young men thou
wilt kill with the sword, and thou wilt dash their children, and rip up
their pregnant women.
8:13. And Hazael said:  But what am I, thy servant, a dog, that I should
do this great thing?  And Eliseus said:  The Lord hath shewed me that
thou shalt be king of Syria.
8:14. And when he was departed from Eliseus he came to his master, who
said to him:  What said Eliseus to thee?  And he answered:  He told me:
Thou shalt recover.
8:15. And on the next day, he took a blanket, and poured water on it,
and spread it upon his face:  and he died, and Hazael reigned in his
8:16. In the fifth year of Joram, son of Achab, king of Israel, and of
Josaphat, king of Juda, reigned Joram, son of Josaphat, king of Juda.
And of Josaphat, etc. . .That is, Josaphat being yet alive, who sometime
before his death made his son Joram king, as David had done before by
his own son Solomon.
8:17. He was two and thirty years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned eight years in Jerusalem.
8:18. And he walked in the ways of the kings of Israel, as the house of
Achab had walked:  for the daughter of Achab was his wife:  and he did
that which was evil in the sight of the Lord.
8:19. But the Lord would not destroy Juda, for David his servant's
sake, as he had promised him, to give him a light, and to his children
8:20. In his days Edom revolted from being under Juda, and made
themselves a king.
8:21. And Joram came to Seira, and all the chariots with him:  and he
arose in the night, and defeated the Edomites that had surrounded him,
and the captains of the chariots, but the people fled into their tents.
8.22. So Edom revolted from being under Juda, unto this day.  Then Lobna
also revolted at the same time.
8:23. But the rest of the acts of Joram, and all that he did, are they
not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Juda?
8:24. And Joram slept with his fathers, and was buried with them in the
city of David, and Ochozias, his son, reigned in his stead.
8:25. In the twelfth year of Joram, the son of Achab, king of Israel,
reigned Ochozias, son of Joram, king of Juda.
8:26. Ochozias was two and twenty years old when he began to reign, and
he reigned one year in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was Athalia
the daughter of Amri king of Israel.
Daughter. . .That is, grand-daughter; for she was daughter of Achab son
of Amri, ver. 18.
8:27. And he walked in the ways of the house of Achab:  and he did evil
before the Lord, as did the house of Achab:  for he was the son in law
of the house of Achab.
8:28. He went also with Joram, son of Achab, to fight against Hazael,
king of Syria, in Ramoth Galaad, and the Syrians wounded Joram:
8:29. And he went back to be healed, in Jezrahel:  because the Syrians
had wounded him in Ramoth, when he fought against Hazael, king of Syria
And Ochozias, the son of Joram, king of Juda, went down to visit Joram,
the son of Achab, in Jezrahel, because he was sick there.
4 Kings Chapter 9
Jehu is anointed king of Israel, to destroy the house of Achab and
Jezebel.  He killeth Joram king of Israel, and Ochozias king of Juda.
Jezebel is eaten by dogs.
9:1. And Eliseus the prophet, called one of the sons of the prophets,
and said to him:  Gird up thy loins, and take this little bottle of oil
in thy hand, and go to Ramoth Galaad.
9:2. And when thou art come thither, thou shalt see Jehu the son of
Josaphat the son of Namsi:  and going in, thou shalt make him rise up
from amongst his brethren, and carry him into an inner chamber.
9:3. Then taking the little bottle of oil, thou shalt pour it on his
head, and shalt say:  Thus saith the Lord:  I have anointed thee king
over Israel.  And thou shalt open the door and flee, and shalt not stay
9:4. So the young man, the servant of the prophet, went away to Ramoth
9:5. And went in thither:  and behold, the captains of the army were
sitting, and he said:  I have a word to thee, O prince.  And Jehu said:
Unto whom of us all?  And he said:  To thee, O prince.
9:6. And he arose, and went into the chamber:  and he poured the oil
upon his head, and said:  Thus saith the Lord God of Israel:  I have
anointed thee king over Israel, the people of the Lord.
9:7. And thou shalt cut off the house of Achab, thy master, and I will
revenge the blood of my servants, the prophets, and the blood of all
the servants of the Lord, at the hand of Jezabel.
9:8. And I will destroy all the house of Achab, and I will cut off from
Achab, him that pisseth against the wall, and him that is shut up, and
the meanest in Israel.
9:9. And I will make the house of Achab, like the house of Jeroboam,
the son of Nabat, and like the house of Baasa, the son of Ahias.
9:10. And the dogs shall eat Jezabel, in the field of Jezrahel, and
there shall be no one to bury her.  And he opened the door and fled.
9:11. Then Jehu went forth to the servants of his Lord:  and they said
to him:  Are all things well?  why came this madman to thee?  And he said
to them:  You know the man, and what he said.
9:12. But they answered:  It is false; but rather do thou tell us.  And
he said to them:  Thus and thus did he speak to me:  and he said:  Thus
saith the Lord:  I have anointed thee king over Israel.
9:13. Then they made haste, and taking every man his garment, laid it
under his feet, after the manner of a judgment seat, and they sounded
the trumpet, and said:  Jehu is king.
9:14. So Jehu, the son of Josaphat, the son of Namsi, conspired against
Joram.  Now Joram had besieged Ramoth Galaad, he, and all Israel,
fighting with Hazael, king of Syria:
9:15. And was returned to be healed in Jezrahel of his wounds; for the
Syrians had wounded him, when he fought with Hazael, king of Syria.  And
Jehu said:  If it please you, let no man go forth or flee out of the
city, lest he go, and tell in Jezrahel.
9:16. And he got up, and went into Jezrahel for Joram was sick there,
and Ochozias king of Juda, was come down to visit Joram.
9:17. The watchman therefore, that stood upon the tower of Jezrahel,
saw the troop of Jehu coming, and said:  I see a troop.  And Joram said:
Take a chariot, and send to meet them, and let him that goeth say:  Is
9:18. So there went one in a chariot to meet him, and said:  Thus saith
the king:  Are all things peaceable?  And Jehu said:  What hast thou to
do with peace?  go behind and follow me.  And the watchman told, saying:
The messenger came to them, but he returneth not.
9:19. And he sent a second chariot of horses:  and he came to them, and
said:  Thus saith the king:  Is there peace?  And Jehu said:  What hast
thou to do with peace?  pass, and follow me.
9:20. And the watchman told, saying:  He came even to them, but
returneth not:  and the driving is like the driving of Jehu, the son of
Namsi; for he drives furiously.
9:21. And Joram said:  Make ready the chariot.  And they made ready his
chariot:  and Joram, king of Israel, and Ochozias, king of Juda, went
out, each in his chariot, and they went out to meet Jehu, and met him
in the field of Naboth, the Jezrahelite.
9:22. And when Joram saw Jehu, he said:  Is there peace, Jehu?  And he
answered:  What peace?  so long as the fornications of Jezabel, thy
mother, and her many sorceries, are in their vigour.
9:23. And Joram turned his hand, and fleeing, said to Ochozias:  There
is treachery, Ochozias.
9:24. But Jehu bent his bow with his hand, and shot Joram between the
shoulders:  and the arrow went out through his heart, and immediately he
fell in his chariot.
9:25. And Jehu said to Badacer, his captain:  Take him, and cast him
into the field of Naboth, the Jezrahelite:  for I remember, when I and
thou, sitting in a chariot, followed Achab, this man's father, that the
Lord laid this burden upon him, saying:
9:26. If I do not requite thee in this field, saith the Lord, for the
blood of Naboth, and for the blood of his children, which I saw
yesterday, saith the Lord.  So now take him, and cast him into the
field, according to the word of the Lord.
9:27. But Ochozias, king of Juda, seeing this, fled by the way of the
garden house:  and Jehu pursued him, and said:  Strike him also in his
chariot.  And they struck him in the going up to Gaver, which is by
Jeblaam:  and he fled into Mageddo, and died there.
9:28. And his servants laid him upon his chariot, and carried him to
Jerusalem:  and they buried him in his sepulchre with his fathers, in
the city of David.
9:29. In the eleventh year of Joram, the son of Achab, Ochozias reigned
9:30. And Jehu came into Jezrahel.  But Jezabel, hearing of his coming
in, painted her face with stibic stone, and adorned her head, and
looked out of a window.
9:31. At Jehu coming in at the gate, and said:  Can there be peace for
Zambri, that hath killed his master?
9:32. And Jehu lifted up his face to the window, and said:  Who is this?
And two or three eunuchs bowed down to him.
9:33. And he said to them:  Throw her down headlong; And they threw her
down, and the wall was sprinkled with her blood, and the hoofs of the
horses trod upon her.
9:34. And when he was come in to eat, and to drink, he said:  Go, and
see after that cursed woman, and bury her; because she is a king's
9:35. And when they went to bury her, they found nothing but the skull,
and the feet, and the extremities of her hands.
9:36. And coming back they told him.  And Jehu said:  It is the word of
the Lord, which he spoke by his servant Elias, the Thesbite, saying:  In
the field of Jezrahel the dogs shall eat the flesh of Jezabel.
9:37. And the flesh of Jezabel shall be as dung upon the face of the
earth in the field of Jezrahel; so that they who pass by shall say:  Is
this that same Jezabel?
4 Kings Chapter 10
Jehu destroyeth the house of Achab:  abolisheth the worship of Baal, and
killeth the worshippers:  but sticketh to the calves of Jeroboam.  Israel
is afflicted by the Syrians.
10:1. And Achab had seventy sons in Samaria:  so Jehu wrote letters, and
sent to Samaria, to the chief men of the city, and to the ancients, and
to them that brought up Achab's children, saying:
10:2. As soon as you receive these letters, ye that have your master's
sons, and chariots, and horses, and fenced cities, and armour,
10:3. Choose the best, and him that shall please you most of your
master's sons, and set him on his father's throne, and fight for the
house of your master.
10:4. But they were exceedingly afraid, and said:  Behold two kings
could not stand before him, and how shall we be able to resist?
10:5. Therefore they that were over the king's house, and the rulers of
the city, and the ancients, and the bringers up of the children, sent
to Jehu, saying:  We are thy servants:  whatsoever thou shalt command us
we will do; we will not make us any king:  do thou all that pleaseth
10:6. And he wrote letters the second time to them, saying:  If you be
mine, and will obey me, take the heads of the sons of your master, and
come to me to Jezrahel by tomorrow at this time.  Now the king's sons,
being seventy men, were brought up with the chief men of the city.
10:7. And when the letters came to them, they took the king's sons, and
slew seventy persons, and put their heads in baskets, and sent them to
him to Jezrahel.
10:8. And a messenger came, and told him, saying:  They have brought the
heads of the king's sons.  And he said:  Lay ye them in two heaps by the
entering in of the gate until the morning.
10:9. And when it was light, he went out, and standing, said to all the
people:  You are just:  if I conspired against my master, and slew him;
who hath slain all these?
10:10. See therefore now that there hath not fallen to the ground any
of the words of the Lord, which the Lord spoke concerning the house of
Achab, and the Lord hath done that which he spoke in the hand of his
servant Elias.
10:11. So Jehu slew all that were left of the house of Achab in
Jezrahel, and all his chief men, and his friends, and his priests, till
there were no remains left of him.
10:12. And he arose, and went to Samaria:  and when he was come to the
shepherds' cabin in the way,
10:13. He met with the brethren of Ochozias, king of Juda, and he said
to them:  Who are you?  And they answered:  We are the brethren of
Ochozias, and are come down to salute the sons of the king, and the
sons of the queen.
10:14. And he said:  Take them alive.  And they took them alive, and
killed them at the pit by the cabin, two and forty men, and he left not
any of them.
10:15. And when he was departed thence, he found Jonadab, the son of
Rechab, coming to meet him, and he blessed him.  And he said to him:  Is
thy heart right as my heart is with thy heart?  And Jonadab said:  It is.
If it be, said he, give me thy hand.  He gave him his hand.  And he
lifted him up to him into the chariot,
10:16. And said to him:  Come with me, and see my zeal for the Lord.  So
he made him ride in his chariot,
10:17. And brought him into Samaria.  And he slew all that were left of
Achab, in Samaria, to a man, according to the word of the Lord which he
spoke by Elias.
10:18. And Jehu gathered together all the people, and said to them:
Achab worshipped Baal a little, but I will worship him more.
I will worship him more. . .Jehu sinned in thus pretending to worship
Baal, and causing sacrifice to be offered to him:  because evil is not
to be done, that good may come of it.  Rom. 3.8.
10:19. Now therefore call to me all the prophets of Baal, and all his
servants, and all his priests:  let none be wanting, for I have a great
sacrifice to offer to Baal:  whosoever shall be wanting, shall not live.
Now Jehu did this craftily, that he might destroy the worshippers of
10:20. And he said:  Proclaim a festival for Baal.  And he called,
10:21. And he sent into all the borders of Israel; and all the servants
of Baal came:  there was not one left that did not come.  And they went
into the temple of Baal:  and the house of Baal was filled, from one end
to the other.
10:22. And he said to them that were over the wardrobe:  Bring forth
garments for all the servants of Baal.  And they brought them forth
10:23. And Jehu, and Jonadab, the son of Rechab, went to the temple of
Baal, and said to the worshippers of Baal:  Search, and see that there
be not any with you of the servants of the Lord, but that there be the
servants of Baal only.
10:24. And they went in to offer sacrifices and burnt offerings:  but
Jehu had prepared him fourscore men without, and said to them:  If any
of the men escape, whom I have brought into your hands, he that letteth
him go, shall answer life for life.
10:25. And it came to pass, when the burnt offering was ended, that
Jehu commanded his soldiers and captains, saying:  Go in, and kill them:
let none escape.  And the soldiers and captains slew them with the edge
of the sword, and cast them out:  and they went into the city of the
temple of Baal,
10:26. And brought the statue out of Baal's temple, and burnt it,
10:27. And broke it in pieces.  They destroyed also the temple of Baal,
and made a jakes in its place unto this day.
10:28. So Jehu destroyed Baal out of Israel:
10:29. But yet he departed not from the sins of Jeroboam, the son of
Nabat, who made Israel to sin, nor did he forsake the golden calves
that were in Bethel, and Dan.
10:30. And the Lord said to Jehu:  because thou hast diligently executed
that which was right and pleasing in my eyes, and hast done to the
house of Achab according to all that was in my heart:  thy children
shall sit upon the throne of Israel to the fourth generation.
10:31. But Jehu took no heed to walk in the law of the Lord, the God of
Israel, with all his heart:  for he departed not from the sins of
Jeroboam, who had made Israel to sin.
10:32. In those days the Lord began to be weary of Israel:  and Hazael
ravaged them in all the coasts of Israel,
10:33. From the Jordan eastward, all the land of Galaad, and Gad, and
Ruben, and Manasses, from Aroer, which is upon the torrent Arnon, and
Galaad, and Basan.
10:34. But the rest of the acts of Jehu, and all that he did, and his
strength, are they not written in the book of the words of the days of
the kings of Israel?
10:35. And Jehu slept with his fathers, and they buried him in Samaria:
and Joachaz, his son, reigned in his stead.
10:36. And the time that Jehu reigned over Israel, in Samaria, was
eight and twenty years.
4 Kings Chapter 11
Athalia's usurpation and tyranny.  Joas is made king.  Athalia is slain.
11:1. Now Athalia, the mother of Ochozias, seeing that her son was
dead, arose and slew all the royal seed.
11:2. But Josaba the daughter of king Joram, sister of Ochozias, took
Joas, the son of Ochozias, and stole him from among the king's sons
that were slain, out of the bedchamber with his nurse:  and hid him from
the face of Athalia; so that he was not slain.
11:3. And he was with her six years, hid in the house of the Lord.  And
Athalia reigned over the land.
11:4. And in the seventh year Joiada sent, and taking the centurions
and soldiers, brought them in to him into the temple of the Lord, and
made a covenant with them:  and taking an oath of them in the house of
the Lord, shewed them the king's son:
11:5. And he commanded them, saying:  This is the thing that you must
11:6. Let a third part of you go in on the sabbath, and keep the watch
of the king's house.  And let a third part be at the gate of Sur; and
let a third part be at the gate behind the dwelling of the
shieldbearers; and you shall keep the watch of the house of Messa.
11:7. But let two parts of you all that go forth on the sabbath, keep
the watch of the house of the Lord about the king.
11:8. And you shall compass him round about, having weapons in your
hands:  and if any man shall enter the precinct of the temple, let him
be slain:  and you shall be with the king, coming in and going out.
11:9. And the centurions did according to all things that Joiada the
priest, had commanded them:  and taking every one their men, that went
in on the sabbath, with them that went out in the sabbath, came to
Joiada, the priest.
11:10. And he gave them the spears, and the arms of king David, which
were in the house of the Lord.
11:11. And they stood, having every one their weapons in their hands,
from the right side of the temple, unto the left side of the altar, and
of the temple, about the king.
11:12. And he brought forth the king's son, and put the diadem upon
him, and the testimony:  and they made him king, and anointed him:  and
clapping their hands, they said:  God save the king.
The testimony. . .The book of the law.
11:13. And Athalia heard the noise of the people running:  and going in
to the people into the temple of the Lord,
11:14. She saw the king standing upon a tribunal, as the manner was,
and the singers, and the trumpets near him, and all the people of the
land rejoicing, and sounding the trumpets:  and she rent her garments,
and cried:  A conspiracy, a conspiracy.
A tribunal. . .A tribune, or a place elevated above the rest.
11:15. But Joiada commanded the centurions that were over the army, and
said to them:  Have her forth without the precinct of the temple, and
whosoever shall follow her, let him be slain with the sword.  For the
priest had said:  Let her not be slain in the temple of the Lord.
11:16. And they laid hands on her:  and thrust her out by the way by
which the horses go in, by the palace, and she was slain there.
11:17. And Joiada made a covenant between the Lord, and the king, and
the people, that they should be the people of the Lord; and between the
king and the people.
11:18. And all the people of the land went into the temple of Baal, and
broke down his altars, and his images they broke in pieces thoroughly:
they slew also Mathan the priest of Baal before the altar.  And the
priest set guards in the house of the Lord.
11:19. And he took the centurions, and the bands of the Cerethi, and
the Phelethi, and all the people of the land, and they brought the king
from the house of the Lord:  and they came by the way of the gate of the
shieldbearers into the palace, and he sat on the throne of the kings.
11:20. And all the people of the land rejoiced, and the city was quiet:
but Athalia was slain with the sword in the king's house.
11:21. Now Joas was seven years old when he began to reign.
4 Kings Chapter 12
The temple is repaired.  Hazael is bought off from attacking Jerusalem.
Joas is slain.
12:1. In the seventh year of Jehu, Joas began to reign:  and he reigned
forty years in Jerusalem.  The name of his mother was Sebia, of
12:2. And Joas did that which was right before the Lord all the days
that Joiada, the priest, taught him.
12:3. But yet he took not away the high places:  for the people still
sacrificed and burnt incense in the high places.
12:4. And Joas said to the priests:  all the money of the sanctified
things, which is brought into the temple of the Lord by those that
pass, which is offered for the price of a soul, and which of their own
accord, and of their own free heart, they bring into the temple of the
Sanctified. . .That is, dedicated to God's service.--Ibid.  The price of
a soul. . .That is, the ordinary oblation, which every soul was to offer
by the law.  Ex. 30.
12:5. Let the priests take it according to their order and repair the
house, wheresoever they shall see any thing that wanteth repairing.
12:6. Now till the three and twentieth year of king Joas the priests
did not make the repairs of the temple.
12:7. And king Joas called Joiada, the high priest, and the priests,
saying to them:  Why do you not repair the temple?  Take you, therefore,
money no more according to your order, but restore it for the repairing
of the temple.
12:8. And the priests were forbidden to take any more money of the
people, and to make the repairs of the house.
12:9. And Joiada, the high priest, took a chest, and bored a hole in
the top, and set it by the altar at the right hand of them that came
into the house of the Lord; and the priests that kept the doors, put
therein all the money that was brought to the temple of the Lord.
12:10. And when they saw that there was very much money in the chest,
the king's scribe, and the high priest, came up, and poured it out, and
counted the money that was found in the house of the Lord.
12:11. And they gave it out by number and measure into the hands of
them that were over the builders of the house of the Lord:  and they
laid it out to the carpenters, and the masons, that wrought in the
house of the Lord,
12:12. And made the repairs:  and to them that cut stones, and to buy
timber, and stones to be hewed, that the repairs of the house of the
Lord might be completely finished, and wheresoever there was need of
expenses to uphold the house.
12:13. But there were not made of the same money for the temple of the
Lord, bowls, or fleshhooks, or censers, or trumpets, or any vessel of
gold and silver, of the money that was brought into the temple of the
12:14. For it was given to them that did the work, that the temple of
the Lord might be repaired.
12:15. And they reckoned not with the men that received the money to
distribute it to the workmen, but they bestowed it faithfully.
12:16. But the money for trespass, and the money for sins, they brought
not into the temple of the Lord, because it was for the priests.
12:17. Then Hazael, king of Syria, went up, and fought against Geth,
and took it, and set his face to go up to Jerusalem.
12:18. Wherefore Joas, king of Juda, took all the sanctified things,
which Josaphat, and Joram, and Ochozias, his fathers, the kings of
Juda, had dedicated to holy uses, and which he himself had offered:  and
all the silver that could be found in the treasures of the temple of
the Lord, and in the king's palace:  and sent it to Hazael, king of
Syria, and he went off from Jerusalem.
12:19. And the rest of the acts of Joas, and all that he did, are they
not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Juda?
12:20. And his servants arose, and conspired among themselves, and slew
Joas, in the house of Mello, in the descent of Sella.
12:21. For Josachar the son of Semaath, and Jozabad the son of Somer
his servant, struck him, and he died:  and they buried him with his
fathers in the city of David; and Amasias, his son, reigned in his
The city of David. . .He was buried in the same city with his fathers,
but not in the sepulchres of the kings.  2 Par. 14.
4 Kings Chapter 13
The reign of Joachaz and of Joas kings of Israel.  The last acts and
death of Eliseus the prophet:  a dead man is raised to life by the touch
of his bones.
13:1. In the three and twentieth year of Joas son of Ochozias, king of
Juda, Joachaz, the son of Jehu, reigned over Israel, in Samaria,
seventeen years.
13:2. And he did evil before the Lord, and followed the sins of
Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who made Israel to sin; and he departed not
13:3. And the wrath of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and he
delivered them into the hand of Hazael, the king of Syria, and into the
hand of Benadad, the son of Hazael, all days.
13:4. But Joachaz besought the face of the Lord, and the Lord heard
him:  for he saw the distress of Israel, because the king of Syria had
oppressed them:
13:5. And the Lord gave Israel a saviour, and they were delivered out
of the hand of the king of Syria:  and the children of Israel dwelt in
their pavilions as yesterday and the day before.
13:6. But yet they departed not from the sins of the house of Jeroboam,
who made Israel to sin, but walked in them:  and there still remained a
grove also in Samaria.
A grove. . .Dedicated to the worship of idols.
13:7. And Joachaz had no more left of the people than fifty horsemen,
and ten chariots, and ten thousand footmen:  for the king of Syria had
slain them, and had brought them low as dust by threshing in the
13:8. But the rest of the acts of Joachaz, and all that he did, and his
valour, are they not written in the book of the words of the days of
the kings of Israel?
13:9. And Joachaz slept with his fathers, and they buried him in
Samaria:  and Joas, his son, reigned in his stead.
13:10. In the seven and thirtieth year of Joas, king of Juda, Joas the
son of Joachaz reigned over Israel, in Samaria, sixteen years.
13:11. And he did that which is evil in the sight of the Lord:  he
departed not from all the sins of Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who made
Israel to sin; but he walked in them.
13:12. But the rest of the acts of Joas, and all that he did, and his
valour wherewith he fought against Amasias, king of Juda, are they not
written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Israel?
13:13. And Joas slept with his fathers; and Jeroboam sat upon his
throne.  But Joas was buried in Samaria, with the kings of Israel.
13:14. Now Eliseus was sick of the illness whereof he died:  and Joas,
king of Israel, went down to him, and wept before him, and said:  O my
father, my father, the chariot of Israel, and the guider thereof.
13:15. And Eliseus said to him:  Bring a bow and arrows.  And when he had
brought him a bow and arrows,
13:16. He said to the king of Israel:  Put thy hand upon the bow.  And
when he had put his hand, Eliseus put his hands over the king's hands,
13:17. And said:  Open the window to the east.  And when he had opened
it, Eliseus said:  Shoot an arrow.  And he shot.  And Eliseus said:  The
arrow of the Lord's deliverance, and the arrow of the deliverance from
Syria:  and thou shalt strike the Syrians in Aphec, till thou consume
13:18. And he said:  Take the arrows.  And when he had taken them, he
said to him:  Strike with an arrow upon the ground.  And he struck three
times, and stood still.
13:19. And the man of God was angry with him, and said:  If thou hadst
smitten five or six or seven times, thou hadst smitten Syria even to
utter destruction:  but now three times shalt thou smite it.
If thou hadst smitten, etc. . .By this it appears that God had revealed
to the prophet that the king should overcome the Syrians as many times
as he should then strike on the ground; but as he had not at the same
time revealed to him how often the king would strike, the prophet was
concerned to see that he struck but thrice.
13:20. And Eliseus died, and they buried him.  And the rovers from Moab
came into the land the same year.
13:21. And some that were burying a man, saw the rovers, and cast the
body into the sepulchre of Eliseus.  And when it had touched the bones
of Eliseus, the man came to life and stood upon his feet.
13:22. Now Hazael, king of Syria, afflicted Israel all the days of
13:23. And the Lord had mercy on them, and returned to them, because of
his covenant, which he had made with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob:  and
he would not destroy them, nor utterly cast them away, unto this
present time.
13:24. And Hazael, king of Syria, died; and Benadad, his son, reigned
in his stead.
13:25. Now Joas the son of Joachaz, took the cities out of the hand of
Benadad, the son of Hazael, which he had taken out of the hand of
Joachaz, his father, by war; three times did Joas beat him, and he
restored the cities to Israel.
4 Kings Chapter 14
Amasias reigneth in Juda:  he overcometh the Edomites:  but is overcome
by Joas king of Israel.  Jereboam the second reigneth in Israel.
14:1. In the second year of Joas son of Joachaz, king of Israel,
reigned Amasias son of Joas, king of Juda.
14:2. He was five and twenty years old when he began to reign; and nine
and twenty years he reigned in Jerusalem; the name of his mother was
Joadan, of Jerusalem.
14:3. And he did that which was right before the Lord, but yet not like
David his father.  He did according to all things that Joas his father,
14:4. But this only, that he took not away the high places; for yet the
people sacrificed, and burnt incense in the high places:
14:5. And when he had possession of the kingdom, he put his servants to
death that had slain the king, his father.
14:6. But the children of the murderers he did not put to death,
according to that which is written in the book of the law of Moses,
wherein the Lord commanded, saying:  The fathers shall not be put to
death for the children, neither shall the children be put to death for
the fathers:  but every man shall die for his own sin.
14:7. He slew of Edom in the valley of the Saltpits, ten thousand men,
and took the rock by war, and called the name thereof Jectehel, unto
14:8. Then Amasias sent messengers to Joas, son of Joachaz, son of
Jehu, king of Israel, saying:  Come, let us see one another.
Let us see one another. . .This was a challenge to fight.
14:9. And Joas, king of Israel, sent again to Amasias, king of Juda,
saying:  A thistle of Libanus sent to a cedar tree, which is in Libanus,
saying:  Give thy daughter to my son to wife.  And the beasts of the
forest, that are in Libanus, passed, and trod down the thistle.
14:10. Thou hast beaten and prevailed over Edom, and thy heart hath
lifted thee up; be content with this glory, and sit at home; why
provokest thou evil, that thou shouldst fall, and Juda with thee?
14:11. But Amasias did not rest satisfied.  So Joas, king of Israel,
went up; and he and Amasias, king of Juda, saw one another in
Bethsames, a town in Juda.
14:12. And Juda was put to the worse before Israel, and they fled every
man to their dwellings.
14:13. But Joas, king of Israel, took Amasias, king of Juda, the son of
Joas, the son of Ochozias, in Bethsames, and brought him into
Jerusalem; and he broke down the wall of Jerusalem, from the gate of
Ephraim to the gate of the corner, four hundred cubits.
14:14. And he took all the gold and silver, and all the vessels that
were found in the house of the Lord, and in the king's treasures, and
hostages, and returned to Samaria.
14:15. But the rest of the acts of Joas, which he did, and his valour,
wherewith he fought against Amasias, king of Juda, are they not written
in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Israel?
14:16. And Joas slept with his fathers, and was buried in Samaria, with
the kings of Israel:  and Jeroboam, his son, reigned in his stead.
14:17. And Amasias, the son of Joas, king of Juda, lived after the
death of Joas, son of Joachaz, king of Israel, fifteen years.
14:18. And the rest of the acts of Amasias, are they not written in the
book of the words of the days of the kings of Juda?
14:19. Now they made a conspiracy against him in Jerusalem:  and he fled
to Lachis.  And they sent after him to Lachis, and killed him there.
14:20. And they brought him away upon horses, and he was buried in
Jerusalem with his fathers, in the city of David.
14:21. And all the people of Juda took Azarias, who was sixteen years
old, and made him king instead of his father, Amasias.
14:22. He built Elath, and restored it to Juda, after that the king
slept with his fathers.
14:23. In the fifteenth year of Amasias, son of Joas, king of Juda,
reigned Jeroboam, the son of Joas, king of Israel, in Samaria, one and
forty years:
14:24. And he did that which is evil before the Lord.  He departed not
from all the sins of Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who made Israel to
14:25. He restored the borders of Israel from the entrance of Emath,
unto the sea of the wilderness, according to the word of the Lord, the
God of Israel, which he spoke by his servant, Jonas, the son of Amathi,
the prophet, who was of Geth, which is in Opher.
Opher. . .The tribe of Zabulon.
14:26. For the Lord saw the affliction of Israel, that it was
exceedingly bitter, and that they were consumed even to them that were
shut up in prison, and the lowest persons, and that there was no one to
help Israel.
14:27. And the Lord did not say that he would blot out the name of
Israel from under heaven; but he saved them by the hand of Jeroboam,
the son of Joas.
14:28. But the rest of the acts of Jeroboam, and all that he did, and
his valour, wherewith he fought, and how he restored Damascus and Emath
to Juda, in Israel, are they not written in the book of the words of
the days of the kings of Israel?
14:29. And Jeroboam slept with his fathers, the kings of Israel; and
Zacharias, his son, reigned in his stead.
4 Kings Chapter 15
The reign of Azarias, and Joatham in Juda:  and of Zacharias, Sellum,
Manahem, Phaceia, and Phacee in Israel.
15:1. In the seven and twentieth year of Jeroboam, king of Israel,
reigned Azarias, son of Amasias, king of Juda.
Azarias. . .Otherwise called Ozias.
15:2. He was sixteen years old when he began to reign, and he reigned
two and fifty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was Jechelia,
of Jerusalem.
15:3. And he did that which was pleasing before the Lord, according to
all that his father, Amasias, had done.
15:4. But the high places he did not destroy, for the people
sacrificed, and burnt incense in the high places.
15:5. And the Lord struck the king, so that he was a leper unto the day
of his death, and he dwelt in a free house apart:  but Joatham, the
king's son, governed the palace, and judged the people of the land.
A leper. . .In punishment of his usurping the priestly function.  2 Par.
15:6. And the rest of the acts of Azarias, and all that he did, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
15:7. And Azarias slept with his fathers:  and they buried him with his
ancestors in the city of David, and Joatham, his son, reigned in his
15:8. In the eight and thirtieth year of Azarias, king of Juda, reigned
Zacharias, son of Jeroboam, over Israel, in Samaria, six months:
15:9. And he did that which is evil before the Lord, as his fathers had
done:  he departed not from the sins of Jeroboam the son of Nabat, who
made Israel to sin.
15:10. And Sellum, the son of Jabes, conspired against him:  and struck
him publicly, and killed him, and reigned in his place.
15:11. Now the rest of the acts of Zacharias, are they not written in
the book of the words of the days of the kings of Israel?
15:12. This was the word of the Lord, which he spoke to Jehu, saying:
Thy children, to the fourth generation, shall sit upon the throne of
Israel.  And so it came to pass.
15:13. Sellum, the son of Jabes, began to reign in the nine and
thirtieth year of Azarias, king of Juda:  and reigned one month in
15:14. And Manahem, the son of Gadi, went up from Thersa, and he came
into Samaria, and struck Sellum, the son of Jabes, in Samaria, and slew
him, and reigned in his stead.
15:15. And the rest of the acts of Sellum, and his conspiracy which he
made, are they not written in the book of the words of the days of the
kings of Israel?
15:16. Then Manahem destroyed Thapsa and all that were in it, and the
borders thereof from Thersa, because they would not open to him:  and he
slew all the women thereof that were with child, and ripped them up.
15:17. In the nine and thirtieth year of Azarias, king of Juda, reigned
Manahem, son of Gadi, over Israel, ten years, in Samaria.
15:18. And he did that which was evil before the Lord:  he departed not
from the sins of Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who made Israel to sin,
all his days.
15:19. And Phul, king of the Assyrians, came into the land, and Manahem
gave Phul a thousand talents of silver to aid him and to establish him
in the kingdom.
15:20. And Manahem laid a tax upon Israel, on all that were mighty and
rich, to give the king of the Assyrians, each man fifty sicles of
silver:  so the king of the Assyrians turned back, and did not stay in
15:21. And the rest of the acts of Manahem, and all that he did, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
15:22. And Manahem slept with his fathers:  and Phaceia, his son,
reigned in his stead.
15:23. In the fiftieth year of Azarias, king of Juda, reigned Phaceia,
the son of Manahem, over Israel, in Samaria, two years.
15:24. And he did that which was evil before the Lord:  he departed not
from the sins of Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who made Israel to sin.
15:25. And Phacee the son of Romelia, his captain, conspired against
him, and smote him in Samaria, in the tower of the king's house, near
Argob, and near Arie, and with him fifty men of the sons of the
Galaadites, and he slew him, and reigned in his stead.
15:26. And the rest of the acts of Phaceia, and all that he did, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
15:27. In the two and fiftieth year of Azarias, king of Juda, reigned
Phacee, the son of Romelia, over Israel, in Samaria, twenty years.
15:28. And he did that which was evil before the Lord:  he departed not
from the sins of Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who made Israel to sin.
15:29. In the days of Phacee, king of Israel, came Theglathphalasar,
king of Assyria, and took Aion, and Abel Domum Maacha, and Janoe, and
Cedes, and Asor, and Galaad, and Galilee, and all the land of
Nephthali:  and carried them captives into Assyria.
15:30. Now Osee, son of Ela, conspired, and formed a plot against
Phacee, the son of Romelia, and struck him, and slew him:  and reigned
in his stead in the twentieth year of Joatham, the son of Ozias.
In the twentieth year of Joatham. . .That is, in the twentieth year,
from the beginning of Joatham's reign.  The sacred writer chooses rather
to follow here this date than to speak of the years of Achaz, who had
not yet been mentioned.
15:31. But the rest of the acts of Phacee, and all that he did, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
15:32. In the second year of Phacee, the son of Romelia king of Israel,
reigned Joatham, son of Ozias, king of Juda.
15:33. He was five and twenty years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned sixteen years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was Jerusa,
the daughter of Sadoc.
15:34. And he did that which was right before the Lord:  according to
all that his father Ozias had done, so did he.
15:35. But the high places he took not away:  the people still
sacrificed, and burnt incense in the high places:  he built the highest
gate of the house of the Lord.
15:36. But the rest of the acts of Joatham, and all that he did, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
15:37. In those days the Lord began to send into Juda, Rasin king of
Syria, and Phacee the son of Romelia.
15:38. And Joatham slept with his fathers, and was buried with them in
the city of David, his father; and Achaz, his son, reigned in his
4 Kings Chapter 16
The wicked reign of Achaz:  the kings of Syria and Israel war against
him:  he hireth the king of the Assyrians to assist him:  he causeth an
altar to be made after the pattern of that of Damascus.
16:1. In the seventeenth year of Phacee, the son of Romelia reigned
Achaz, the son of Joatham, king of Juda.
16:2. Achaz was twenty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned
sixteen years in Jerusalem:  he did not that which was pleasing in the
sight of the Lord, his God, as David, his father.
16:3. But he walked in the way of the kings of Israel:  moreover, he
consecrated also his son, making him pass through the fire, according
to the idols of the nations which the Lord destroyed before the
children of Israel.
16:4. He sacrificed also, and burnt incense in the high places, and on
the hills, and under every green tree.
16:5. Then Rasin, king of Syria, and Phacee, son of Romelia, king of
Israel, came up to Jerusalem to fight:  and they besieged Achaz, but
were not able to overcome him.
16:6. At that time Rasin, king of Syria, restored Aila to Syria, and
drove the men of Juda out of Aila:  and the Edomites came into Aila, and
dwelt there unto this day.
16:7. And Achaz sent messengers to Theglathphalasar, king of the
Assyrians, saying:  I am thy servant, and thy son:  come up, and save me
out of the hand of the king of Syria, and out of the hand of the king
of Israel, who are risen up together against me.
16:8. And when he had gathered together the silver and gold that could
be found in the house of the Lord, and in the king's treasures, he sent
it for a present to the king of the Assyrians.
16:9. And he agreed to his desire:  for the king of the Assyrians went
up against Damascus, and laid it waste:  and he carried away the
inhabitants thereof to Cyrene; but Rasin he slew.
16:10. And king Achaz went to Damascus to meet Theglathphalasar, king
of the Assyrians, and when he had seen the altar of Damascus, king
Achaz sent to Urias, the priest, a pattern of it, and its likeness,
according to all the work thereof.
16:11. And Urias, the priest, built an altar according to all that king
Achaz had commanded from Damascus so did Urias, the priest, until king
Achaz came from Damascus.
16:12. And when the king was come from Damascus, he saw the altar and
worshipped it:  and went up and offered holocausts, and his own
16:13. And he offered libations, and poured the blood of the peace
offerings, which he had offered, upon the altar.
16:14. But the altar of brass that was before the Lord, he removed from
the face of the temple, and from the place of the altar, and from the
place of the temple of the Lord:  and he set it at the side of the altar
towards the north.
16:15. And king Achaz commanded Urias, the priest, saying:  Upon the
great altar offer the morning holocaust, and the evening sacrifice, and
the king's holocaust, and his sacrifice, and the holocaust of the whole
people of the land, and their sacrifices, and their libations:  and all
the blood of the holocaust, and all the blood of the victim, thou shalt
pour out upon it:  but the altar of brass shall be ready at my pleasure.
16:16. So Urias, the priest, did according to all that king Achaz had
commanded him.
16:17. And king Achaz took away the graven bases, and the laver that
was upon them:  and he took down the sea from the brazen oxen that held
it up, and put it upon a pavement of stone.
16:18. The Musach also for the sabbath, which he had built in the
temple, and the king's entry from without, he turned into the temple of
the Lord, because of the king of the Assyrians.
Musach. . .The covert, or pavilion, or tribune, for the king.
16:19. Now the rest of the acts of Achaz which he did, are they not
written in the book of the words of the of the days of the kings of
16:20. And Achaz slept with his fathers, and was buried with them in
the city of David, and Ezechias, his son, reigned in his stead.
4 Kings Chapter 17
The reign of Osee.  The Israelites for their sins are carried into
captivity:  other inhabitants are sent to Samaria, who make a mixture of
17:1. In the twelfth year of Achaz king of Juda, Osee the son of Ela
reigned in Samaria, over Israel, nine years.
In the twelfth year of Achaz king of Juda. . .He began to reign before:
but was not in quiet possession of the kingdom to the twelfth year of
17:2. And he did evil before the Lord:  but not as the kings of Israel
that had been before him.
17:3. Against him came up Salmanasar, king of the Assyrians; and Osee
became his servant, and paid him tribute.
17:4. And when the king of the Assyrians found that Osee, endeavouring
to rebel, had sent messengers to Sua, the king of Egypt, that he might
not pay tribute to the king of the Assyrians, as he had done every
year, he besieged him, bound him, and cast him into prison.
17:5. And he went through all the land:  and going up to Samaria, he
besieged it three years.
17:6. And in the ninth year of Osee, the king of the Assyrians took
Samaria, and carried Israel away to Assyria:  and he placed them in
Hala, and Habor, by the river of Gozan, in the cities of the Medes.
17:7. For so it was that the children of Israel had sinned against the
Lord, their God, who brought them out of the land of Egypt, from under
the hand of Pharao, king of Egypt; and they worshipped strange gods.
17:8. And they walked according to the way of the nations which the
Lord had destroyed in the sight of the children of Israel, and of the
kings of Israel:  because they had done in like manner.
17:9. And the children of Israel offended the Lord, their God, with
things that were not right:  and built them high places in all their
cities, from the tower of the watchmen to the fenced city.
17:10. And they made them statues and groves on every high hill, and
under every shady tree:
17:11. And they burnt incense there upon altars, after the manner of
the nations which the Lord had removed from their face:  and they did
wicked things, provoking the Lord.
17:12. And they worshipped abominations, concerning which the Lord had
commanded them that they should not do this thing.
17:13. And the Lord testified to them in Israel, and in Juda, by the
hand of all the prophets and seers, saying:  Return from your wicked
ways, and keep my precepts, and ceremonies, according to all the law
which I commanded your fathers:  and as I have sent to you in the hand
of my servants the prophets.
17:14. And they hearkened not, but hardened their necks like to the
neck of their fathers, who would not obey the Lord, their God.
17:15. And they rejected his ordinances, and the covenant that he made
with their fathers, and the testimonies which he testified against
them:  and they followed vanities, and acted vainly:  and they followed
the nations that were round about them, concerning which the Lord had
commanded them that they should not do as they did.
17:16. And they forsook all the precepts of the Lord, their God:  and
made to themselves two molten calves, and groves, and adored all the
host of heaven:  and they served Baal,
17:17. And consecrated their sons, and their daughters, through fire:
and they gave themselves to divinations, and soothsayings:  and they
delivered themselves up to do evil before the Lord, to provoke him.
17:18. And the Lord was very angry with Israel, and removed them from
his sight, and there remained only the tribe of Juda.
17:19. But neither did Juda itself keep the commandments of the Lord,
their God:  but they walked in the errors of Israel, which they had
17:20. And the Lord cast off all the seed of Israel, and afflicted
them, and delivered them into the hand of spoilers, till he cast them
away from his face:
17:21. Even from that time, when Israel was rent from the house of
David, and made Jeroboam, son of Nabat, their king:  for Jeroboam
separated Israel from the Lord, and made them commit a great sin.
17:22. And the children of Israel walked in all the sins of Jeroboam,
which he had done:  and they departed not from them,
17:23. Till the Lord removed Israel from his face, as he had spoken in
the hand of all his servants, the prophets:  and Israel was carried away
out of their land to Assyria, unto this day.
17:24. And the king of the Assyrians brought people from Babylon, and
from Cutha, and from Avah, and from Emath, and from Sepharvaim:  and
placed them in the cities of Samaria instead of the children of Israel:
and they possessed Samaria, and dwelt in the cities thereof.
17:25. And when they began to dwell there, they feared not the Lord:
and the Lord sent lions among them, which killed them.
17:26. And it was told the king of the Assyrians, and it was said:  The
nations which thou hast removed, and made to dwell in the cities of
Samaria, know not the ordinances of the God of the land:  and the Lord
hath sent lions among them:  and behold they kill them, because they
know not the manner of the God of the land.
17:27. And the king of the Assyrians commanded, saying:  Carry thither
one of the priests whom you brought from thence captive, and let him
go, and dwell with them:  and let him teach them the ordinances of the
God of the land.
17:28. So one of the priests, who had been carried away captive from
Samaria, came and dwelt in Bethel, and taught them how they should
worship the Lord.
17:29. And every nation made gods of their own and put them in the
temples of the high places, which the Samaritans had made, every nation
in their cities where they dwelt.
17:30. For the men of Babylon made Sochothbenoth:  and the Cuthites made
Nergel:  and the men of Emath made Asima.
17:31. And the Hevites made Nebahaz, and Tharthac.  And they that were
of Sepharvaim burnt their children in fire, to Adramelech and
Anamelech, the gods of Sepharvaim.
17:32. And nevertheless they worshipped the Lord.  And they made to
themselves, of the lowest of the people, priests of the high places,
and they placed them in the temples of the high places.
17:33. And when they worshipped the Lord, they served also their own
gods, according to the custom of the nations out of which they were
brought to Samaria:
17:34. Unto this day they follow the old manner:  they fear not the
Lord, neither do they keep his ceremonies, and judgments, and law, and
the commandment, which the Lord commanded the children of Jacob, whom
he surnamed Israel:
17:35. With whom he made a covenant, and charged them, saying:  You
shall not fear strange gods, nor shall you adore them, nor worship
them, nor sacrifice to them.
17:36. But the Lord, your God, who brought you out of the land of
Egypt, with great power, and a stretched out arm, him shall you fear,
and him shall you adore, and to him shall you sacrifice.
17:37. And the ceremonies, and judgments, and law, and the commandment,
which he wrote for you, you shall observe to do them always:  and you
shall not fear strange gods.
17:38. And the covenant that he made with you, you shall not forget:
neither shall ye worship strange Gods,
17:39. But fear the Lord, your God, and he shall deliver you out of the
hand of all your enemies.
17:40. But they did not hearken to them, but did according to their old
17:41. So these nations feared the Lord, but nevertheless served also
their idols:  their children also, and grandchildren, as their fathers
did, so do they unto this day.
4 Kings Chapter 18
The reign of Ezechias:  he abolisheth idolatry and prospereth.
Sennacherib cometh up against him:  Rabsaces soliciteth the people to
revolt; and blasphemeth the Lord.
18:1. In the third year of Osee, the son of Ela, king of Israel,
reigned Ezechias, the son of Achaz, king of Juda.
18:2. He was five and twenty years old when he began to reign:  and he
reigned nine and twenty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Abi, the daughter of Zacharias.
18:3. And he did that which was good before the Lord, according to all
that David, his father, had done
18:4. He destroyed the high places, and broke the statues in pieces,
and cut down the groves, and broke the brazen serpent, which Moses had
made:  for till that time the children of Israel burnt incense to it:
and he called its name Nohestan.
And he called its name Noheston. . .That is, their brass; or a little
brass.  So he called it in contempt, because they had made an idol of
18:5. He trusted in the Lord, the God of Israel:  so that after him
there was none like him among all the kings of Juda, nor any of them
that were before him:
18:6. And he stuck to the Lord, and departed not from his steps, but
kept his commandments, which the Lord commanded Moses.
18:7. Wherefore the Lord also was with him, and in all things, to which
he went forth, he behaved himself wisely.  And he rebelled against the
king of the Assyrians, and served him not.
18:8. He smote the Philistines as far as Gaza, and all their borders,
from the tower of the watchmen to the fenced city.
18:9. In the fourth year of king Ezechias, which was the seventh year
of Osee, the son of Ela, king of Israel, Salmanasar, king of the
Assyrians, came up to Samaria, and besieged it,
18:10. And took it.  For after three years, in the sixth year of
Ezechias, that is, in the ninth year of Osee, king of Israel, Samaria
18:11. And the king of the Assyrians carried away Israel into Assyria,
and placed them in Hala, and in Habor, by the rivers of Gozan, in the
cities of the Medes.
18:12. Because they hearkened not to the voice of the Lord, their God,
but transgressed his covenant:  all that Moses, the servant of the Lord,
commanded, they would not hear, nor do.
18:13. In the fourteenth year of king Ezechias, Sennacherib, king of
the Assyrians, came up against the fenced cities of Juda, and took
18:14. Then Ezechias, king of Juda, sent messengers to the king of the
Assyrians, to Lachis, saying:  I have offended, depart from me:  and all
that thou shalt put upon me, I will bear.  And the king of the Assyrians
put a tax upon Ezechias, king of Juda, of three hundred talents of
silver, and thirty talents of gold.
18:15. And Ezechias gave all the silver that was found in the house of
the Lord, and in the king's treasures.
18:16. At that time Ezechias broke the doors of the temple of the Lord,
and the plates of gold which he had fastened on them, and gave them to
the king of the Assyrians.
18:17. And the king of the Assyrians sent Tharthan, and Rabsaris, and
Rabsaces, from Lachis, to king Ezechias, with a strong army, to
Jerusalem:  and they went up and came to Jerusalem, and they stood by
the conduit of the upper pool, which is in the way of the fuller's
18:18. And they called for the king:  and there went out to them
Eliacim, the son of Helcias, who was over the house, and Sobna, the
scribe, and Joahe, the son of Asaph, the recorder.
18:19. And Rabsaces said to them:  Speak to Ezechias:  Thus saith the
great king, the king of the Assyrians:  What is this confidence, wherein
thou trustest?
18:20. Perhaps thou hast taken counsel, to prepare thyself for battle.
On whom dost thou trust, that thou darest to rebel?
18:21. Dost thou trust in Egypt a staff of a broken reed, upon which if
a man lean, it will break and go into his hand, and pierce it?  so is
Pharao, king of Egypt, to all that trust in him.
18:22. But if you say to me:  We trust in the Lord, our God:  is it not
he, whose high places and altars Ezechias hath taken away:  and hath
commanded Juda and Jerusalem:  You shall worship before this altar in
18:23. Now therefore come over to my master, the king of the Assyrians,
and I will give you two thousand horses, and see whether you be able to
have riders for them.
18:24. And how can you stand against one lord of the least of my
master's servants?  Dost thou trust in Egypt for chariots and for
18:25. Is it without the will of the Lord that I am come up to this
place to destroy it?  The Lord said to me:  Go up to this land, and
18:26. Then Eliacim, the son of Helcias, and Sobna, and Joahe, said to
Rabsaces:  We pray thee, speak to us, thy servants, in Syriac:  for we
understand that tongue:  and speak not to us in the Jews' language, in
the hearing of the people that are upon the wall.
18:27. And Rabsaces answered them, saying:  Hath my master sent me to
thy master, and to thee, to speak these words, and not rather to the
men that sit upon the wall, that they may eat their own dung, and drink
their urine with you?
18:28. Then Rabsaces stood, and cried out with a loud voice in the
Jews' language, and said:  Hear the word of the great king, the king of
the Assyrians.
18:29. Thus saith the king:  Let not Ezechias deceive you:  for he shall
not be able to deliver you out of my hand.
18:30. Neither let him make you trust in the Lord, saying:  The Lord
will surely deliver us, and this city shall not be given into the hand
of the king of the Assyrians.
18:31. Do not hearken to Ezechias.  For thus saith the king of the
Assyrians:  Do with me that which is for your advantage, and come out to
me:  and every man of you shall eat of his own vineyard, and of his own
fig tree:  and you shall drink water of your own cisterns,
18:32. Till I come, and take you away, to a land, like to your own
land, a fruitful land, and plentiful in wine, a land of bread and
vineyards, a land of olives, and oil, and honey, and you shall live,
and not die.  Hearken not to Ezechias, who deceiveth you, saying:  The
Lord will deliver us.
18:33. Have any of the gods of the nations delivered their land from
the hand of the king of Assyria?
18:34. Where is the god of Emath, and of Arphad?  where is the god of
Sepharvaim, of Ana, and of Ava?  have they delivered Samaria out of my
18:35. Who are they among all the gods of the nations that have
delivered their country out of my hand, that the Lord may deliver
Jerusalem out of my hand?
18:36. But the people held their peace, and answered him not a word:
for they had received commandment from the king that they should not
18:37. And Eliacim, the son of Helcias, who was over the house, and
Sobna, the scribe, and Joahe, the son of Asaph, the recorder, came to
Ezechias, with their garments rent, and told him the words of Rabsaces.
4 Kings Chapter 19
Ezechias is assured of God's help by Isaias the prophet.  The king of
the Assyrians still threateneth and blasphemeth.  Ezechias prayeth, and
God promiseth to protect Jerusalem.  An angel destroyeth the army of the
Assyrians, their king returneth to Nineve, and is slain by his two
19:1. And when king Ezechias heard these words, he rent his garments,
and covered himself with sackcloth, and went into the house of the
19:2. And he sent Eliacim, who was over the house, and Sobna, the
scribe, and the ancients of the priests, covered with sackcloths, to
Isaias, the prophet, the son of Amos.
19:3. And they said to him:  Thus saith Ezechias:  This day is a day of
tribulation, and of rebuke, and of blasphemy:  the children are come to
the birth, and the woman in travail hath not strength.
19:4. It may be the Lord, thy God, will hear all the words of Rabsaces,
whom the king of the Assyrians, his master, hath sent to reproach the
living God, and to reprove with words, which the Lord, thy God, hath
heard:  and do thou offer prayer for the remnants that are found.
19:5. So the servants of king Ezechias came to Isaias.
19:6. And Isaias said to them:  Thus shall you say to your master:  Thus
saith the Lord:  Be not afraid for the words which thou hast heard, with
which the servants of the king of the Assyrians have blasphemed me.
19:7. Behold I will send a spirit upon him, and he shall hear a
message, and shall return into his own country, and I will make him
fall by the sword in his own country.
19:8. And Rabsaces returned, and found the king of the Assyrians
besieging Lobna:  for he had heard that he was departed from Lachis.
19:9. And when he heard of Tharaca, king of Ethiopia:  Behold, he is
come out to fight with thee:  and was going against him, he sent
messengers to Ezechias, saying:
19:10. Thus shall you say to Ezechias, king of Juda:  Let not thy God
deceive thee, in whom thou trustest:  and do not say:  Jerusalem shall
not be delivered into the hands of the king of the Assyrians.
19:11. Behold, thou hast heard what the kings of the Assyrians have
done to all countries, how they have laid them waste:  and canst thou
alone be delivered?
19:12. Have the gods of the nations delivered any of them, whom my
fathers have destroyed, to wit, Gozan, and Haran, and Reseph, and the
children of Eden, that were in Thelassar?
19:13. Where is the king of Emath, and the king of Arphad, and the king
of the city of Sepharvaim, and of Ana, and of Ava?
19:14. And when Ezechias had received the letter of the hand of the
messengers, and had read it, he went up to the house of the Lord, and
spread it before the Lord,
19:15. And he prayed in his sight, saying:  O Lord God of Israel, who
sittest upon the cherubims, thou alone art the God of all the kings of
the earth:  thou madest heaven and earth:
19:16. Incline thy ear, and hear:  open, O Lord, thy eyes and see:  and
hear all the words of Sennacherib, who hath sent to upbraid unto us the
19:17. Of a truth, O Lord, the kings of the Assyrians have destroyed
nations, and the lands of them all.
19:18. And they have cast their gods into the fire:  for they were not
gods, but the work of men's hands, of wood and stone, and they
destroyed them.
19:19. Now therefore, O Lord our God, save us from his hand, that all
the kingdoms of the earth may know that thou art the Lord, the only
19:20. And Isaias, the son of Amos, sent to Ezechias, saying:  Thus
saith the Lord, the God of Israel:  I have heard the prayer thou hast
made to me concerning Sennacherib, king of the Assyrians.
19:21. This is the word that the Lord hath spoken of him:  The virgin,
the daughter of Sion, hath despised thee, and laughed thee to scorn:
the daughter of Jerusalem hath wagged her head behind thy back.
19:22. Whom hast thou reproached, and whom hast thou blasphemed?
against whom hast thou exalted thy voice, and lifted up thy eyes on
high?  against the holy one of Israel.
19:23. By the hand of thy servants thou hast reproached the Lord, and
hast said:  With the multitude of my chariots I have gone up to the
height of the mountains, to the top of Libanus, and have cut down its
tall cedars, and its choice fir trees.  And I have entered into the
furthest parts thereof, and the forest of its Carmel.
Carmel. . .A pleasant fruitful hill in the forest.  These expressions are
figurative, signifying under the names of mountains and forests, the
kings and provinces whom the Assyrians had triumphed over.
19:24. I have cut down, and I have drunk strange waters, and have dried
up with the soles of my feet all the shut up waters.
19:25. Hast thou not heard what I have done from the beginning?  from
the days of old I have formed it, and now I have brought it to effect:
that fenced cities of fighting men should be turned to heaps of ruins:
I have formed it, etc. . .All thy exploits, in which thou takest pride,
are no more than what I have decreed; and are not to be ascribed to thy
wisdom or strength, but to my will and ordinance:  who have given to
thee to take and destroy so many fenced cities, and to carry terror
wherever thou comest.--Ibid.  Heaps of ruin. . .Literally ruin of the
19:26. And the inhabitants of them were weak of hand, they trembled and
were confounded, they became like the grass of the field, and the green
herb on the tops of houses, which withered before it came to maturity.
19:27. Thy dwelling, and thy going out, and thy coming in, and thy way
I knew before, and thy rage against me.
19:28. Thou hast been mad against me, and thy pride hath come up to my
ears:  therefore I will put a ring in thy nose, and a bit between thy
lips, and I will turn thee back by the way by which thou camest.
19:29. And to thee, O Ezechias, this shall be a sign:  Eat this year
what thou shalt find:  and in the second year, such things as spring of
themselves:  but in the third year sow and reap:  plant vineyards, and
eat the fruit of them.
19:30. And whatsoever shall be left of the house of Juda, shall take
root downward, and bear fruit upward.
19:31. For out of Jerusalem shall go forth a remnant, and that which
shall be saved out of mount Sion:  the zeal of the Lord of hosts shall
19:32. Wherefore thus saith the Lord concerning the king of the
Assyrians:  He shall not come into this city, nor shoot an arrow into
it, nor come before it with shield, nor cast a trench about it.
19:33. By the way that he came he shall return:  and into this city he
shall not come, saith the Lord.
19:34. And I will protect this city, and will save it for my own sake,
and for David, my servant's sake.
19:35. And it came to pass that night, that an angel of the Lord came,
and slew in the camp of the Assyrians a hundred and eighty-five
thousand.  And when he arose early in the morning, he saw all the bodies
of the dead.
19:36. And Sennacherib, king of the Assyrians, departing, went away,
and he returned and abode in Ninive.
19:37. And as he was worshipping in the temple of Nesroch, his god,
Adramelech and Sarasar, his sons, slew him with the sword, and they
fled into the land of the Armenians, and Asarhaddon, his son, reigned
in his stead.
4 Kings Chapter 20
Ezechias being sick, is told by Isaias that he shall die; but praying
to God, he obtaineth longer life, and in confirmation thereof receiveth
a sign by the sun's returning back.  He sheweth all his treasures to the
ambassadors of the king of Babylon:  Isaias reproving him for it,
foretelleth the Babylonish captivity.
20:1. In those days Ezechias was sick unto death:  and Isaias, the son
of Amos, the prophet, came and said to him:  Thus saith the Lord God:
Give charge concerning thy house, for thou shalt die, and not llve.
20:2. And he turned his face to the wall, and prayed to the Lord,
20:3. I beseech thee, O Lord, remember how I have walked before thee in
truth, and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is pleasing
before thee.  And Ezechias wept with much weeping.
20:4. And before Isaias was gone out of the middle of the court, the
word of the Lord came to him, saying:
20:5. Go back, and tell Ezechias, the captain of my people:  Thus saith
the Lord, the God of David, thy father:  I have heard thy prayer, and I
have seen thy tears:  and behold I have healed thee:  on the third day
thou shalt go up to the temple of the Lord.
20:6. And I will add to thy days fifteen years:  and I will deliver thee
and this city out of the hand of the king of the Assyrians, and I will
protect this city for my own sake, and for David, my servant's sake.
20:7. And Isaias said:  Bring me a lump of figs.  And when they had
brought it, and laid it upon his boil, he was healed.
20:8. And Ezechias had said to Isaias:  What shall be the sign that the
Lord will heal me, and that I will go up to the temple of the Lord the
20:9. And Isaias said to him:  This shall be the sign from the Lord,
that the Lord will do the word which he hath spoken:  Wilt thou that the
shadow go forward ten lines, or that it go back so many degrees?
20:10. And Ezechias said:  It is an easy matter for the shadow to go
forward ten lines:  and I do not desire that this be done, but let it
return back ten degrees.
20:11. And Isaias, the prophet, called upon the Lord, and he brought
the shadow ten degrees backwards by the lines, by which it had already
gone down on the dial of Achaz.
20:12. At that time Berodach Baladan, the son of Baladan, king of the
Babylonians, sent letters and presents to Ezechias:  for he had heard
that Ezechias had been sick.
20:13. And Ezechias rejoiced at their coming, and he shewed them the
house of his aromatical spices, and the gold, and the silver, and
divers precious odours, and ointments, and the house of his vessels,
and all that he had in his treasures.  There was nothing in his house,
nor in all his dominions, that Ezechias shewed them not.
20:14. And Isaias, the prophet, came to king Ezechias, and said to him:
What said these men?  or from whence came they to thee?  And Ezechias
said to him:  From a far country, they came to me out of Babylon.
20:15. And he said:  What did they see in thy house?  Ezechias said:
They saw all the things that are in my house:  There is nothing among my
treasures that I have not shewed them.
20:16. And Isaias said to Ezechias:  Hear the word of the Lord.
20:17. Behold the days shall come, that all that is in thy house, and
that thy fathers have laid up in store unto this day, shall be carried
into Babylon:  nothing shall be left, saith the Lord.
20:18. And of thy sons also that shall issue from thee, whom thou shalt
beget, they shall take away, and they shall be eunuchs in the palace of
the king of Babylon.
20:19. Ezechias said to Isaias:  The word of the Lord, which thou hast
spoken, is good:  let peace and truth be in my days.
20:20. And the rest of the acts of Ezechias, and all his might, and how
he made a pool, and a conduit, and brought waters into the city, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
20:21. And Ezechias slept with his fathers, and Manasses, his son
reigned in his stead.
4 Kings Chapter 21
The wickedness of Manasses:  God's threats by his prophets.  His wicked
son Amon succeedeth him, and is slain by his servants.
21:1. Manasses was twelve years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned five and fifty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
21:2. And he did evil in the sight of the Lord, according to the idols
of the nations, which the Lord destroyed from before the face of the
children of Israel.
21:3. And he turned, and built up the high places, which Ezechias, his
father, had destroyed:  and he set up altars to Baal, and made groves,
as Achab, the king of Israel, had done:  and he adored all the host of
heaven, and served them.
21:4. And he built altars in the house of the Lord, of which the Lord
said:  In Jerusalem I will put my name.
21:5. And he built altars for all the host of heaven, in the two courts
of the temple of the Lord.
21:6. And he made his son pass through fire:  and he used divinations,
and observed omens, and appointed pythons, and multiplied soothsayers,
to do evil before the Lord, and to provoke him.
Pythons. . .That is, diviners by spirits.
21:7. He set also an idol of the grove, which he had made, in the
temple of the Lord:  concerning which the Lord said to David, and to
Solomon his son:  In this temple, and in Jerusalem, which I have chosen
out of all the tribes of Israel, I will put my name for ever.
21:8. And I will no more make the feet of Israel to be moved out of the
land, which I gave to their fathers:  only if they will observe to do
all that I have commanded them, according to the law which my servant
Moses commanded them.
21:9. But they hearkened not:  but were seduced by Manasses, to do evil
more than the nations which the Lord destroyed before the children of
21:10. And the Lord spoke in the hand of his servants, the prophets,
21:11. Because Manasses, king of Juda, hath done these most wicked
abominations, beyond all that the Amorrhites did before him, and hath
made Juda also to sin with his filthy doings:
21:12. Therefore thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:  Behold, I will
bring on evils upon Jerusalem and Juda:  that whosoever shall hear of
them, both his ears shall tingle.
21:13. And I will stretch over Jerusalem the line of Samaria, and the
weight of the house of Achab:  and I will efface Jerusalem, as writings
tables are wont to be effaced, and I will erase and turn it, and draw
the pencil often over the face thereof.
21:14. And I will leave the remnants of my inheritance, and will
deliver them into the hands of their enemies:  and they shall become a
prey, and a spoil to all their enemies.
21:15. Because they have done evil before me, and have continued to
provoke me, from the day that their fathers came out of Egypt, even
unto this day.
21:16. Moreover, Manasses shed also very much innocent blood, till he
filled Jerusalem up to the mouth:  besides his sins, wherewith he made
Juda to sin, to do evil before the Lord.
21:17. Now the rest of the acts of Manasses, and all that he did, and
his sin, which he sinned, are they not written in the book of the words
of the days of the kings of Juda?
21:18. And Manasses slept with his fathers, and was buried in the
garden of his own house, in the garden of Oza:  and Amon, his son,
reigned in his stead.
21:19. Two and twenty years old was Amon when he began to reign, and he
reigned two years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was Messalemeth,
the daughter of Harus, of Jeteba.
21:20. And he did evil in the sight of the Lord, as Manasses, his
father, had done.
21:21. And he walked in all the way in which his father had walked:  and
he served the abominations which his father had served, and he adored
21:22. And forsook the Lord, the God of his fathers, and walked not in
the way of the Lord.
21:23. And his servants plotted against him, and slew the king in his
21:24. But the people of the land slew all them that had conspired
against king Amon:  and made Josias, his son, their king in his stead.
21:25. But the rest of the acts of Amon, which he did, are they not
written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Juda?
21:26. And they buried him in his sepulchre, in the garden of Oza:  and
his son, Josias, reigned in his stead.
4 Kings Chapter 22
Josias repaireth the temple.  The book of the law is found, upon which
they consult the Lord, and are told that great evils shall fall upon
them, but not in the time of Josias.
22:1. Josias was eight years old when he began to reign:  he reigned one
and thirty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was Idida, the
daughter of Hadaia, of Besecath.
22:2. And he did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, and
walked in all the ways of David, his father:  he turned not aside to the
right hand, or to the left.
22:3. And in the eighteenth year of king Josias, the king sent Saphan,
the son of Assia, the son of Messulam, the scribe of the temple of the
Lord, saying to him:
22:4. Go to Helcias, the high priest, that the money may be put
together which is brought into the temple of the Lord, which the
doorkeepers of the temple have gathered of the people.
22:5. And let it be given to the workmen by the overseers of the house
of the Lord:  and let them distribute it to those that work in the
temple of the Lord, to repair the temple:
22:6. That is, to carpenters and masons, and to such as mend breaches:
and that timber may be bought, and stones out of the quarries, to
repair the temple of the Lord.
22:7. But let there be no reckoning made with them of the money which
they receive, but let them have it in their power, and in their trust.
22:8. And Helcias, the high priest, said to Saphan, the scribe:  I have
found the book of the law in the house of the Lord:  and Helcias gave
the book to Saphan, and he read it.
The book of the law. . .That is, Deuteronomy.
22:9. And Saphan, the scribe, came to the king, and brought him word
again concerning that which he had commanded, and said:  Thy servants
have gathered together the money that was found in the house of the
Lord:  and they have given it to be distributed to the workmen, by the
overseers of the works of the temple of the Lord.
22:10. And Saphan, the scribe, told the king, saying:  Helcias, the
priest, hath delivered to me a book.  And when Saphan had read it before
22:11. And the king had heard the words of the law of the Lord, he rent
his garments.
22:12. And he commanded Helcias, the priest, and Ahicam, the son of
Saphan, and Achobor, the son of Micha, and Saphan, the scribe, and
Asaia, the king's servant, saying:
22:13. Go and consult the Lord for me, and for the people, and for all
Juda, concerning the words of this book which is found:  for the great
wrath of the Lord is kindled against us, because our fathers have not
hearkened to the words of this book, to do all that is written for us.
22:14. So Helcias, the priest, and Ahicam, and Achobor, and Sapham, and
Asaia, went to Holda, the prophetess, the wife of Sellum, the son of
Thecua, the son of Araas, keeper of the wardrobe, who dwelt in
Jerusalem, in the Second:  and they spoke to her.
The Second. . .A street, or part of the city, so called; in Hebrew,
22:15. And she said to them:  Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:
Tell the man that sent you to me:
22:16. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold, I will bring evils upon this place,
and upon the inhabitants thereof, all the words of the law which the
king of Juda hath read:
22:17. Because they have forsaken me, and have sacrificed to strange
gods, provoking me by all the works of their hands:  therefore my
indignation shall be kindled against this place, and shall not be
22:18. But to the king of Juda, who sent you to consult the Lord, thus
shall you say:  Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:  for as much as
thou hast heard the words of the book,
22:19. And thy heart hath been moved to fear, and thou hast humbled
thyself before the Lord, hearing the words against this place, and the
inhabitants thereof, to wit, that they should become a wonder and a
curse:  and thou hast rent thy garments, and wept before me; I also have
heard thee; saith the Lord.
22:20. Therefore I will gather thee to thy fathers, and thou shalt be
gathered to thy sepulchre in peace; that thy eyes may not see all the
evils which I will bring upon this place.
4 Kings Chapter 23
Josias readeth the law before all the people.  They promise to observe
it.  He abolisheth all idolatry, celebrateth the phase:  is slain in
battle by the king of Egypt.  The short reign of Joachaz, in whose place
Joakim is made king.
23:1. And they brought the king word again what she had said.  And he
sent:  and all the ancients of Juda and Jerusalem were assembled to him.
23:2. And the king went up to the temple of the Lord, and all the men
of Juda, and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem with him, the priests,
and the prophets, and all the people, both little and great:  and in the
hearing of them all he read all the words of the book of the covenant,
which was found in the house of the Lord.
23:3. And the king stood upon the step:  and he made a covenant with the
Lord, to walk after the Lord, and to keep his commandments, and his
testimonies, and his ceremonies, with all their heart, and with all
their soul, and to perform the words of this covenant, which were
written in that book:  and the people agreed to the covenant.
The king stood upon the step. . .That is, his tribune, or tribunal, a
more eminent place, from whence he might be seen and heard by the
23:4. And the king commanded Helcias, the high priest, and the priests
of the second order, and the doorkeepers, to cast out of the temple of
the Lord all the vessels that had been made for Baal, and for the
grove, and for all the host of heaven:  and he burnt them without
Jerusalem, in the valley of Cedron, and he carried the ashes of them to
23:5. And he destroyed the soothsayers, whom the kings of Juda had
appointed to sacrifice in the high places in the cities of Juda, and
round about Jerusalem:  them also that burnt incense to Baal, and to the
sun, and to the moon, and to the twelve signs, and to all the host of
23:6. And he caused the grove to be carried out from the house of the
Lord, without Jerusalem, to the valley of Cedron, and he burnt it
there, and reduced it to dust, and cast the dust upon the graves of the
common people.
23:7. He destroyed also the pavilions of the effeminate, which were in
the house of the Lord, for which the women wove as it were little
dwellings for the grove.
23:8. And he gathered together all the priests out of the cities of
Juda:  and he defiled the high places, where the priests offered
sacrifice, from Gabaa to Bersabee:  and he broke down the altars of the
gates that were in the entering in of the gate of Josue, governor of
the city, which was on the left hand of the gate of the city.
23:9. However, the priests of the high places came not up to the altar
of the Lord, in Jerusalem:  but only eat of the unleavened bread among
their brethren.
23:10. And he defiled Topheth, which is in the valley of the son of
Ennom:  that no man should consecrate there his son, or his daughter,
through fire, to Moloch.
23:11. And he took away the horses which the kings of Juda had given to
the sun, at the entering in of the temple of the Lord, near the chamber
of Nathanmelech the eunuch, who was in Pharurim:  and he burnt the
chariots of the sun with fire.
23:12. And the altars that were upon the top of the upper chamber of
Achaz, which the kings of Juda had made, and the altars which Manasses
had made in the two courts of the temple of the Lord, the king broke
down:  and he ran from thence, and cast the ashes of them into the
torrent Cedron.
23:13. The high places also that were at Jerusalem, on the right side
of the Mount of Offence, which Solomon, king of Israel, had built to
Astaroth, the idol of the Sidonians, and to Chamos, the scandal of
Moab, and to Melchom, the abomination of the children of Ammon, the
king defiled.
23:14. And he broke in pieces the statues, and cut down the groves:  and
he filled their places with the bones of dead men.
23:15. Moreover, the altar also that was at Bethel, and the high place,
which Jeroboam, the son of Nabat, who made Israel to sin, had made:
both the altar, and the high place, he broke down and burnt, and
reduced to powder, and burnt the grove.
23:16. And as Josias turned himself, he saw there the sepulchres that
were in the mount:  and he sent and took the bones out of the
sepulchres, and burnt them upon the altar, and defiled it according to
the word of the Lord, which the man of God spoke, who had foretold
these things.
23:17. And he said:  What is that monument which I see?  And the men of
that city answered:  It is the sepulchre of the man of God, who came
from Juda, and foretold these things which thou hast done upon the
altar of Bethel.
23:18. And he said:  Let him alone, let no man move his bones.  So his
bones were left untouched with the bones of the prophet, that came out
23:19. Moreover all the temples of the high places which were in the
cities of Samaria, which the kings of Israel had made to provoke the
Lord, Josias took away:  and he did to them according to all the acts
that he had done in Bethel.
23:20. And he slew all the priests of the high places, that were there,
upon the altars; and he burnt men's bones upon them:  and returned to
23:21. And he commanded all the people, saying:  Keep the Phase to the
Lord your God, according as it is written in the book of this covenant.
23:22. Now there was no such a Phase kept from the days of the judges,
who judged Israel, nor in all the days of the kings of Israel, and of
the kings of Juda,
23:23. As was this Phase, that was kept to the Lord in Jerusalem, in
the eighteenth year of king Josias.
23:24. Moreover the diviners by spirits, and soothsayers, and the
figures of idols, and the uncleannesses, and the abominations, that had
been in the land of Juda and Jerusalem, Josias took away:  that he might
perform the words of the law, that were written in the book, which
Helcias the priest had found in the temple of the Lord.
23:25. There was no king before him like unto him, that returned to the
Lord with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his
strength, according to all the law of Moses:  neither after him did
there arise any like unto him.
23:26. But yet the Lord turned not away from the wrath of his great
indignation, wherewith his anger was kindled against Juda:  because of
the provocations, wherewith Manasses had provoked him.
23:27. And the Lord said:  I will remove Juda also from before my face,
as I have removed Israel:  and I will cast off this city Jerusalem,
which I chose, and the house, of which I said:  My name shall be there.
23:28. Now the rest of the acts of Josias, and all that he did, are
they not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of
23:29. In his days Pharao Nechao, king of Egypt, went up against the
king of Assyria to the river Euphrates:  and king Josias went to meet
him:  and was slain at Mageddo, when he had seen him.
23:30. And his servants carried him dead from Mageddo:  and they brought
him to Jerusalem, and buried him in his own sepulchre.  And the people
of the land took Joachaz, the son of Josias:  and they anointed him, and
made him king in his father's stead.
23:31. Joachaz was three and twenty years old when he began to reign,
and he reigned three months in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Amital, the daughter of Jeremias, of Lobna.
23:32. And he did evil before the Lord, according to all that his
fathers had done.
23:33. And Pharao Nechao bound him at Rebla, which is in the land of
Emath, that he should not reign in Jerusalem:  and he set a fine upon
the land, of a hundred talents of silver, and a talent of gold.
23:34. And Pharao Nechao made Eliacim, the son of Josias, king in the
room of Josias his father:  and turned his name to Joakim.  And he took
Joachaz away and carried him into Egypt, and he died there.
23:35. And Joakim gave the silver and the gold to Pharao, after he had
taxed the land for every man, to contribute according to the
commandment of Pharao:  and he exacted both the silver and the gold of
the people of the land, of every man according to his ability:  to give
to Pharao Nechao.
23:36. Joakim was five and twenty years old when he began to reign:  and
he reigned eleven years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Zebida, the daughter of Phadaia, of Ruma.
23:37. And he did evil before the Lord according to all that his
fathers had done.
4 Kings Chapter 24
The reign of Joakim, Joachin, and Sedecias.
24:1. In his days Nabuchodonosor, king of Babylon came up, and Joakim
became his servant three years:  then again he rebelled against him.
24:2. And the Lord sent against him the rovers of the Chaldees, and the
rovers of Syria, and the rovers of Moab, and the rovers of the children
of Ammon:  and he sent them against Juda, to destroy it, according to
the word of the Lord, which he had spoken by his servants, the
The Lord sent against him the rovers. . .Latrunculos.  Bands or parties
of men, who pillaged and plundered wherever they came.
24:3. And this came by the word of the Lord against Juda, to remove
them from before him for all the sins of Manasses which he did;
24:4. And for the innocent blood that he shed, filling Jerusalem with
innocent blood:  and therefore the Lord would not be appeased.
24:5. But the rest of the acts of Joakim, and all that he did, are they
not written in the book of the words of the days of the kings of Juda?
And Joakim slept with his fathers:
24:6. And Joachin, his son, reigned in his stead.
24:7. And the king of Egypt came not again any more out of his own
country:  for the king of Babylon had taken all that had belonged to the
king of Egypt, from the river of Egypt, unto the river Euphrates.
24:8. Joachin was eighteen years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned three months in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was Nohesta,
the daughter of Elnathan, of Jerusalem.
24:9. And he did evil before the Lord, according to all that his father
24:10. At that time the servants of Nabuchodonosor, king of Babylon,
came up against Jerusalem, and the city was surrounded with their
24:11. And Nabuchodonosor, king of Babylon, came to the city, with his
servants, to assault it.
24:12. And Joachin, king of Juda, went out to the king of Babylon, he,
and his mother, and his servants, and his nobles, and his eunuchs:  and
the king of Babylon received him in the eighth year of his reign.
24:13. And he brought out from thence all the treasures of the house of
the Lord, and the treasures of the king's house:  and he cut in pieces
all the vessels of gold which Solomon, king of Israel, had made in the
temple of the Lord, according to the word of the Lord.
24:14. And he carried away all Jerusalem, and all the princes, and all
the valiant men of the army, to the number of ten thousand, into
captivity:  and every artificer and smith:  and none were left, but the
poor sort of the people of the land.
24:15. And he carried away Joachin into Babylon, and the king's mother,
and the king's wives, and his eunuchs:  and the judges of the land he
carried into captivity, from Jerusalem, into Babylon.
24:16. And all the strong men, seven thousand, and the artificers, and
the smiths, a thousand, all that were valiant men, and fit for war:  and
the king of Babylon led them captives into Babylon.
24:17. And he appointed Matthanias, his uncle, in his stead:  and called
his name Sedecias.
24:18. Sedecias was one and twenty years old when he began to reign,
and he reigned eleven years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Amital, the daughter of Jeremias, of Lobna.
24:19. And he did evil before the Lord, according to all that Joakim
24:20. For the Lord was angry against Jerusalem and against Juda, till
he cast them out from his face:  and Sedecias revolted from the king of
4 Kings Chapter 25
Jerusalem is besieged and taken by Nabuchodonosor:  Sedecias is taken:
the city and temple are destroyed.  Godolias, who is left governor, is
slain.  Joachin is exalted by Evilmerodach.
25:1. And it came to pass in the ninth year of his reign, in the tenth
month, the tenth day of the month, that Nabuchodonosor, king of
Babylon, came, he and all his army, against Jerusalem:  and they
surrounded it:  and raised works round about it.
25:2. And the city was shut up and besieged till the eleventh year of
king Sedecias,
25:3. The ninth day of the month:  and a famine prevailed in the city,
and there was no bread for the people of the land.
25:4. And a breach was made into the city:  and all the men of war fled
in the night between the two walls by the king's garden (now the
Chaldees besieged the city round about), and Sedecias fled by the way
that leadeth to the plains of the wilderness.
25:5. And the army of the Chaldees pursued after the king, and overtook
him in the plains of Jericho:  and all the warriors that were with him
were scattered, and left him:
25:6. So they took the king, and brought him to the king of Babylon, to
Reblatha, and he gave judgment upon him.
25:7. And he slew the sons of Sedecias before his face, and he put out
his eyes, and bound him with chains, and brought him to Babylon.
25:8. In the fifth month, the seventh day of the month, the same is the
nineteenth year of the king of Babylon, came Nabuzardan, commander of
the army, a servant of the king of Babylon, into Jerusalem.
25:9. And he burnt the house of the Lord, and the king's house, and the
houses of Jerusalem, and every great house he burnt with fire.
25:10. And all the army of the Chaldees, which was with the commander
of the troops, broke down the walls of Jerusalem round about.
25:11. And Nabuzardan, the commander of the army, carried away the rest
of the people, that remained in the city, and the fugitives, that had
gone over to the king of Babylon, and the remnant of the common people.
25:12. But of the poor of the land he left some dressers of vines and
25:13. And the pillars of brass that were in the temple of the Lord,
and the bases, and the sea of brass, which was in the house of the
Lord, the Chaldees broke in pieces, and carried all the brass of them
25:14. They took away also the pots of brass, and the mazers, and the
forks, and the cups, and the mortars, and all the vessels of brass,
with which they ministered.
25:15. Moreover also the censers, and the bowls, such as were of gold
in gold:  and such as were of silver in silver, the general of the army
25:16. That is, two pillars, one sea, and the bases which Solomon had
made in the temple of the Lord:  the brass of all these vessels was
without weight.
25:17. One pillar was eighteen cubits high:  and the chapiter of brass,
which was upon it, was three cubits high:  and the network, and the
pomegranates that were upon the chapiter of the pillar, were all of
brass:  and the second pillar had the like adorning.
25:18. And the general of the army took Seraias, the chief priest, and
Sophonias, the second priest, and three doorkeepers:
25:19. And out of the city one eunuch, who was captain over the men of
war:  and five men of them who had stood before the king, whom he found
in the city, and Sopher, the captain of the army, who exercised the
young soldiers of the people of the land:  and threescore men of the
common people, who were found in the city:
25:20. These Nabuzardan, the general of the army, took away, and
carried them to the king of Babylon, to Reblatha.
25:21. And the king of Babylon smote them, and slew them at Reblatha,
in the land of Emath:  so Juda was carried away out of their land.
25:22. But over the people that remained in the land of Juda, which
Nabuchodonosor, king of Babylon, had left, he gave the government to
Godolias, the son of Ahicam, the son of Saphan.
25:23. And when all the captains of the soldiers had heard this, they
and the men that were with them, to wit, that the king of Babylon had
made Godolias governor they came to Godolias to Maspha, Ismael, the son
of Nathanias, and Johanan, the son of Caree, and Saraia, the son of
Thanehumeth, the Netophathite, and Jezonias, the son of Maachathi, they
and their men.
25:24. And Godolias swore to them and to their men, saying:  Be not
afraid to serve the Chaldees:  stay in the land, and serve the king of
Babylon, and it shall be well with you.
25:25. But it came to pass in the seventh month, that Ismael, the son
of Nathanias, the son of Elisama, of the seed royal came, and ten men
with him, and smote Godolias; so that he died:  and also the Jews and
the Chaldees that were with him in Maspha.
25:26. And all the people, both little and great, and the captains of
the soldiers, rising up, went to Egypt, fearing the Chaldees.
25:27. And it came to pass in the seven and thirtieth year of the
captivity of Joachin, king of Juda, in the twelfth month, the seven and
twentieth day of the month:  Evilmerodach, king of Babylon, in the year
that he began to reign, lifted up the head of Joachin, king of Juda,
out of prison.
25:28. And he spoke kindly to him:  and he set his throne above the
throne of the kings that were with him in Babylon.
25:29. And he changed his garments which he had in prison, and he ate
bread always before him, all the days of his life.
25:30. And he appointed him a continual allowance, which was also given
him by the king, day by day, all the days of his life.
THE FIRST BOOK OF PARALIPOMENON
These Books are called by the Greek interpreters, Paralipomenon, that
is, of things left out, or omitted; because they are a kind of a
supplement of such things as were passed over in the books of the
Kings.  The Hebrews call them Dibre Haijamim, that is, The words of the
days, or The Chronicles.--Not that they are the books which are so
often quoted in the Kings, under the title of the words of the days of
the kings of Israel, and of the kings of Juda:  for the books of
Paralipomenon were written after the books of Kings:  but because in all
probability they have been abridged from those ancient words of the
days, by Esdras or some other sacred writer.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 1
The genealogy of the patriarchs down to Abraham:  The posterity of
Abraham and of Esau.
1:1. Adam, Seth, Enos,
1:2. Cainan, Malaleel, Jared,
1:3. Henoc, Mathusale, Lamech,
1:4. Noe, Sem, Cham, and Japheth.
1:5. The sons of Japheth:  Gomer, and Magog, and Madai, and Javan,
Thubal, Mosoch, Thiras.
1:6. And the sons of Gomer:  Ascenez, and Riphath, and Thogorma.
1:7. And the sons of Javan:  Elisa and Tharsis, Cethim and Dodanim.
1:8. The sons of Cham:  Chus, and Mesrai, and Phut, and Chanaan.
1:9. And the sons of Chus:  Saba, and Hevila, Sabatha, and Regma, and
Sabathaca.  And the sons of Regma:  Saba, and Dadan.
1:10. Now Chus begot Nemrod:  he began to be mighty upon earth.
1:11. But Mesraim begot Ludim, and Anamim, and Laabim, and Nephtuim,
1:12. Phetrusim also, and Casluim:  from whom came the Philistines, and
1:13. And Chanaan begot Sidon his firstborn, and the Hethite,
1:14. And the Jebusite, and the Amorrhite, and the Gergesite,
1:15. And the Hevite, and the Aracite, and the Sinite,
1:16. And the Aradian, and the Samarite, and the Hamathite.
1:17. The sons of Sem:  Elam and Asur, and Arphaxad, and Lud, and Aram,
and Hus, and Hul, and Gether, and Mosoch.
1:18. And Arphaxad begot Sale, and Sale begot Heber.
1:19. And to Heber were born two sons, the name of the one was Phaleg,
because in his days the earth was divided; and the name of his brother
1:20. And Jectan begot Elmodad, and Saleph, and Asarmoth, and Jare,
1:21. And Adoram, and Usal, and Decla,
1:22. And Hebal, and Abimael, and Saba,
1:23. And Ophir, and Hevila, and Jobab.  All these are the sons of
1:24. Sem, Arphaxad, Sale,
1:25. Heber, Phaleg, Ragau,
1:26. Serug, Nachor, Thare,
1:27. Abram, this is Abraham.
1:28. And the sons of Abraham, Isaac and Ismahel.
1:29. And these are the generations of them.  The firstborn of Ismahel,
Nabajoth, then Cedar, and Adbeel, and Mabsam,
1:30. And Masma, and Duma, Massa, Hadad, and Thema,
1:31. Jetur, Naphis, Cedma:  these are the sons of Ismahel.
1:32. And the sons of Cetura, Abraham's concubine, whom she bore:
Zamran, Jecsan, Madan, Madian, Jesboc, and Sue.  And the sons of Jecsan,
Saba, and Dadan.  And the sons of Dadan:  Assurim, and Latussim, and
Concubine. . .She was his lawful wife, but of an inferior degree.
1:33. And the sons of Madian:  Epha, and Epher, and Henoch, and Abida,
and Eldaa.  All these are the sons of Cetura.
1:34. And Abraham begot Isaac:  and his sons were Esau and Israel.
1:35. The sons of Esau:  Eliphaz, Rahuel, Jehus, Ihelom, and Core.
1:36. The sons of Eliphaz:  Theman, Omar, Sephi, Gathan, Cenez, and by
Thamna, Amalec.
1:37. The sons of Rahuel:  Nahath, Zara, Samma, Meza.
1:38. The sons of Seir:  Lotan, Sobal, Sebeon, Ana, Dison, Eser, Disan.
1:39. The sons of Lotan:  Hori, Homam.  And the sister of Lotan was
1:40. The sons of Sobal:  Alian, and Manahath, and Ebal, Sephi, and
Onam.  The sons of Sebeon:  Aia, and Ana.  The son of Ana:  Dison.
1:41. The sons of Dison:  Hamram, and Eseban, and Jethran, and Charan.
1:42. The sons of Eser:  Balaan, and Zavan, and Jacan.  The sons of
Disan:  Hus and Aran.
1:43. Now these are the kings that reigned in the land of Edom, before
there was a king over the children of Israel:  Bale the son of Beor:  and
the name of his city was Denaba.
1:44. And Bale died, and Jobab the son of Zare of Bosra, reigned in his
1:45. And when Jobab also was dead, Husam of the land of the Themanites
reigned in his stead.
1:46. And Husam also died, and Adad the son of Badad reigned in his
stead, and he defeated the Madianites in the land of Moab:  the name of
his city was Avith.
1:47. And when Adad also was dead, Semla of Masreca reigned in his
1:48. Semla also died, and Saul of Rohoboth, which is near the river,
reigned in his stead.
1:49. And when Saul was dead, Balanan the son of Achobor reigned in his
1:50. He also died, and Adad reigned in his stead:  and the name of his
city was Phau, and his wife was called Meetabel the daughter of Matred,
the daughter of Mezaab.
1:51. And after the death of Adad, there began to be dukes in Edom
instead of kings:  duke Thamna, duke Alva, duke Jetheth,
1:52. Duke Oolibama, duke Ela, duke Phinon,
1:53. Duke Cenez, duke Theman, duke Mabsar,
1:54. Duke Magdiel, duke Hiram.  These are the dukes of Edom.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 2
The twelve tribes of Israel.  The genealogy of Juda down to David.  Other
genealogies of the tribe of Juda.
2:1. And these are the sons of Israel:  Ruben, Simeon, Levi, Juda,
Issachar, and Zabulon,
2:2. Dan, Joseph, Benjamin, Nephtali, Gad, and Aser.
2:3. The sons of Juda:  Her, Onan and Sela.  These three were born to him
of the Chanaanitess the daughter of Sue.  And Her the firstborn of Juda,
was wicked in the sight of the Lord, and he slew him.
2:4. And Thamar his daughter in law bore him Phares and Zara.  So all
the sons of Juda were five.
2:5. And the sons of Phares, were Hesron and Hamul.
2:6. And the sons also of Zare:  Zamri, and Ethan, and Eman, and
Chalchal, and Dara, five in all.
2:7. And the sons of Charmi:  Achar, who troubled Israel, and sinned by
the theft of the anathema.
Achar. . .Alias Achan.  Jos. 7.--Ibid.  The anathema. . .The thing
devoted or accursed, viz., the spoils of Jericho.
2:8. The sons of Ethan:  Azarias,
2:9. And the sons of Hesron that were born to him:  Jerameel, and Ram,
2:10. And Ram begot Aminadab, and Aminadab begot Nahasson, prince of
the children of Juda.
Ram. . .He is commonly called Aram.  But it is to be observed here, once
for all, that it was a common thing among the Hebrews for the same
persons to have different names:  and that it is not impossible among so
many proper names, as here occur in the first nine chapters of this
book, that the transcribers of the ancient Hebrew copies may have made
some slips in the orthography.
2:11. And Nahasson begot Salma, the father of Booz.
2:12. And Booz begot Obed, and Obed begot Isai.
2:13. And Isai begot Eliab his firstborn, the second Abinadab, the
third Simmaa,
2:14. The fourth, Nathanael, the fifth Raddai,
2:15. The sixth Asom, the seventh David.
2:16. And their sisters were Sarvia, and Abigail.  The sons of Sarvia:
Abisai, Joab, and Asael, three.
2:17. And Abigail bore Amasa, whose father was Jether the Ismahelite.
2:18. And Caleb the son of Hesron took a wife named Azuba, of whom he
had Jerioth:  and her sons were Jaser, and Sobab, and Ardon.
Caleb. . .Alias Calubi, ver. 9.
2:19. And when Azuba was dead, Caleb took to wife Ephrata:  who bore him
2:20. And Hur begot Uri:  and Uri begot Bezeleel.
2:21. And afterwards Hesron went in to the daughter of Machir the
father of Galaad, and took her to wife when he was threescore years
old:  and she bore him Segub.
2:22. And Segub begot Jair, and he had three and twenty cities in the
land of Galaad.
2:23. And he took Gessur, and Aram the towns of Jair, and Canath, and
the villages thereof, threescore cities.  All these, the sons of Machir
father of Galaad.
2:24. And when Hesron was dead, Caleb went in to Ephrata.  Hesron also
had to wife Abia who bore him Ashur the father of Thecua.
2:25. And the sons of Jerameel the firstborn of Hesron, were Ram his
firstborn, and Buna, and Aram, and Asom, and Achia.
2:26. And Jerameel married another wife, named Atara, who was the
mother of Onam.
2:27. And the sons of Ram the firstborn of Jerameel, were Moos, Jamin,
2:28. And Onam had sons Semei, and Jada.  And the sons of Semei:  Nadab,
2:29. And the name of Abisur's wife was Abihail, who bore him Ahobban,
2:30. And the sons of Nadab were Saled and Apphaim.  And Saled died
without children.
2:31. But the son of Apphaim was Jesi:  and Jesi begot Sesan.  And Sesan
begot Oholai.
2:32. And the sons of Jada the brother of Semei:  Jether and Jonathan.
And Jether also died without children.
2:33. But Jonathan begot Phaleth, and Ziza.  These were the sons of
2:34. And Sesan had no sons, but daughters and a servant an Egyptian,
named Jeraa.
2:35. And he gave him his daughter to wife:  and she bore him Ethei.
2:36. And Ethei begot Nathan, and Nathan begot Zabad.
2:37. And Zabad begot Ophlal, and Ophlal begot Obed.
2:38. Obed begot Jehu, Jehu begot Azarias.
2:39. Azarias begot Helles, and Helles begot Elasa.
2:40. Elasa begot Sisamoi, Sisamoi begot Sellum,
2:41. Sellum begot Icamia, and Icamia begot Elisama.
2:42. Now the sons of Caleb the brother of Jerameel were Mesa his
firstborn, who was the father of Siph:  and the sons of Maresa father of
2:43. And the sons of Hebron, Core, and Thaphua, and Recem, and Samma.
2:44. And Samma begot Raham, the father of Jercaam, and Recem begot
2:45. The son of Sammai, Maon:  and Maon the father of Bethsur.
2:46. And Epha the concubine of Caleb bore Haran, and Mosa, and Gezez.
And Haran begot Gezez.
2:47. And the sons of Jahaddai, Rogom, and Joathan, and Gesan, and
Phalet, and Epha, and Saaph.
2:48. And Maacha the concubine of Caleb bore Saber, and Tharana.
2:49. And Saaph the father of Madmena begot Sue the father of Machbena,
and the father of Gabaa.  And the daughter of Caleb was Achsa.
2:50. These were the sons of Caleb, the son of Hur the firstborn of
Ephrata, Sobal the father of Cariathiarim.
2:51. Salma the father of Bethlehem, Hariph the father of Bethgader.
2:52. And Sobal the father of Cariathiarim had sons:  he that saw half
of the places of rest.
He that saw, etc. . .The Latin interpreter seems to have given us here,
instead of the proper names, the meaning of those names in the Hebrew.
He has done in like manner, ver. 55.
2:53. And of the kindred of Cariathiarim, the Jethrites, and
Aphuthites, and Semathites, and Maserites.  Of them came the Saraites,
and Esthaolites.
2:54. The sons of Salma, Bethlehem, and Netophathi, the crowns of the
house of Joab, and half of the place of rest of Sarai.
2:55. And the families of the scribes that dwell in Jabes, singing and
making melody, and abiding in tents.  These are the Cinites, who came of
Calor (Chamath) father of the house of Rechab.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 3
The genealogy of the house of David.
3:1. Now these were the sons of David that were born to him in Hebron:
the firstborn Amnon of Achinoam the Jezrahelitess, the second Daniel of
Abigail the Carmelitess.
3:2. The third Absalom the son of Maacha the daughter of Tolmai king of
Gessur, the fourth Adonias the son of Aggith,
3:3. The fifth Saphatias of Abital, the sixth Jethrahem of Egla his
3:4. So six sons were born to him in Hebron, where he reigned seven
years and six months.  And in Jerusalem he reigned three and thirty
3:5. And these sons were born to him in Jerusalem:  Simmaa, and Sobab,
and Nathan, and Solomon, four of Bethsabee the daughter of Ammiel.
3:6. Jebaar also and Elisama,
3:7. And Eliphaleth, and Noge, and Nepheg, and Japhia,
3:8. And Elisama, and Eliada, and Elipheleth, nine:
3:9. All these the sons of David, beside the sons of the concubines:
and they had a sister Thamar.
The concubines. . .The inferior wives.
3:10. And Solomon's son was Roboam:  whose son Abia begot Asa.  And his
son was Josaphat,
3:11. The father of Joram:  and Joram begot Ochozias, of whom was born
3:12. And his son Amasias begot Azarias.  And Joathan the son of Azarias
3:13. Begot Achaz, the father of Ezechias, of whom was born Manasses.
3:14. And Manasses begot Amon the father of Josias.
3:15. And the sons of Josias were, the firstborn Johanan, the second
Joakim, the third Sedecias, the fourth Sellum.
3:16. Of Joakim was born Jechonias, and Sedecias.
3:17. The sons of Jechonias were Asir, Salathiel,
3:18. Melchiram, Phadaia, Senneser and Jecemia, Sama, and Nadabia.
3:19. Of Phadaia were born Zorobabel and Semei.  Zorobabel begot
Mosollam, Hananias, and Salomith their sister:
3:20. Hasaba also, and Ohol, and Barachias, and Hasadias, Josabhesed,
3:21. And the son of Hananias was Phaltias the father of Jeseias, whose
son was Raphaia.  And his son was Arnan, of whom was born Obdia, whose
son was Sechenias.
3:22. The son of Sechenias was Semeia, whose sons were Hattus, and
Jegaal, and Baria, and Naaria, and Saphat, six in number.
Six. . .Counting the father in the number.
3:23. The sons of Naaria, Elioenai, and Ezechias, and Ezricam, three.
3:24. The sons of Elioenai, Oduia, and Eliasub, and Pheleia, and Accub,
and Johanan, and Dalaia, and Anani, seven.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 4
Other genealogies of Juda and Simeon, and their victories.
4:1. The sons of Juda:  Phares, Hesron, and Charmi and Hur, and Sobal.
4:2. And Raia the son of Sobal begot Jahath, of whom were born Ahumai,
and Laad.  These are the families of Sarathi.
4:3. And this is the posterity of Etam:  Jezrahel, and Jesema, And
Jedebos:  and the name of their sister was Asalelphuni.
4:4. And Phanuel the father of Gedor, and Ezar the father of Hosa,
these are the sons of Hur the firstborn of Ephratha the father of
4:5. And Assur the father of Thecua had two wives, Halaa and Naara:
4:6. And Naara bore him Ozam, and Hepher, and Themani, and Ahasthari:
these are the sons of Naara.
4:7. And the sons of Halaa, Sereth, Isaar, and Ethnan.
4:8. And Cos begot Anob, and Soboba, and the kindred of Aharehel the
son of Arum.
4:9. And Jabes was more honourable than any of his brethren, and his
mother called his name Jabes, saying:  Because I bore him with sorrow.
Jabes. . .That is, sorrowful.
4:10. And Jabes called upon the God of Israel, saying:  If blessing thou
wilt bless me, and wilt enlarge my borders, and thy hand be with me,
and thou save me from being oppressed by evil.  And God granted him the
things he prayed for.
4:11. And Caleb the brother of Sua begot Mahir, who was the father of
4:12. And Esthon begot Bethrapha, and Phesse, and Tehinna father of the
city of Naas:  these are the men of Recha.
4:13. And the sons of Cenez were Othoniel, and Saraia.  And the sons of
Othoniel, Hathath, and Maonathi.
4:14. Maonathi begot Ophra, and Saraia begot Joab the father of the
Valley of artificers:  for artificers were there.
4:15. And the sons of Caleb the son of Jephone, were Hir, and Ela, and
Naham.  And the sons of Ela:  Cenez.
4:16. The sons also of Jaleleel:  Ziph, and Zipha, Thiria and Asrael.
4:17. And the sons of Esra, Jether, and Mered, and Epher, and Jalon,
and he begot Mariam, and Sammai, and Jesba the father of Esthamo.
4:18. And his wife Judaia, bore Jared the father of Gedor, and Heber
the father of Socho, and Icuthiel the father of Zanoe.  And these are
the sons of Bethia the daughter of Pharao, whom Mered took to wife.
4:19. And the sons of his wife Odaia the sister of Naham the father of
Celia, Garmi, and Esthamo, who was of Machathi.
4:20. The sons also of Simon, Amnon, and Rinna the son of Hanan, and
Thilon.  And the sons of Jesi Zoheth, and Benzoheth.
4:21. The sons of Sela the son of Juda:  Her the father of Lecha, and
Laada the father of Maresa, and the families of the house of them that
wrought fine linen in the House of oath.
4:22. And he that made the sun to stand, and the men of Lying, and
Secure, and Burning, who were princes in Moab, and who returned into
Lahem.  Now these are things of old.
He that made, etc. . .Viz., Joazim, the meaning of whose name in Hebrew
is, he that made the sun to stand.  In like manner the following names,
Lying (Chozeba), Secure (Joas), and Burning (Saraph), are substituted
in place of the Hebrew names of the same signification.
4:23. These are the potters, and they dwelt in Plantations, and Hedges,
with the king for his works, and they abode there.
Plantations and Hedges. . .These are the proper names of the places
where they dwelt.  In Hebrew Atharim and Gadira.
4:24. The sons of Simeon:  Namuel and Jamin, Jarib, Zara, Saul:
4:25. Sellum his son, Mapsam his son, Masma his son.
4:26. The sons of Masma:  Hamuel his son, Zachur his son, Semei his son.
4:27. The sons of Semei were sixteen, and six daughters:  but his
brethren had not many sons, and the whole kindred could not reach to
the sum of the children of Juda.
4:28. And they dwelt in Bersabee, and Molada, and Hasarsuhal,
4:29. And in Bala, and in Asom, and in Tholad,
4:30. And in Bathuel, and in Horma, and in Siceleg,
4:31. And in Bethmarchaboth, and in Hasarsusim, and in Bethberai, and
in Saarim.  These were their cities unto the reign of David.
4:32. Their towns also were Etam, and Aen, Remmon, and Thochen, and
Asan, five cities.
4:33. And all their villages round about these cities as far as Baal.
This was their habitation, and the distribution of their dwellings.
4:34. And Mosabab and Jemlech, and Josaphat, the son of Amasias,
4:35. And Joel, and Jehu the son of Josabia the son of Saraia, the son
4:36. And Elioenai, and Jacoba, and Isuhaia, and Asaia, and Adiel, and
Ismiel, and Banaia,
4:37. Ziza also the son of Sephei the son of Allon the son of Idaia the
son of Semri the son of Samaia.
4:38. These were named princes in their kindreds, and in the houses of
their families were multiplied exceedingly.
4:39. And they went forth to enter into Gador as far as to the east
side of the valley, to seek pastures for their flocks.
4:40. And they found fat pastures, and very good, and a country
spacious, and quiet, and fruitful, in which some of the race of Cham
had dwelt before.
4:41. And these whose names are written above, came in the days of
Ezechias king of Juda:  and they beat down their tents, and slew the
inhabitants that were found there, and utterly destroyed them unto this
day:  and they dwelt in their place, because they found there fat
4:42. Some also of the children of Simeon, five hundred men, went into
mount Seir, having for their captains Phaltias and Naaria and Raphaia
and Oziel the sons of Jesi:
4:43. And they slew the remnant of the Amalecites, who had been able to
escape, and they dwelt there in their stead unto this day.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 5
Genealogies of Ruben and Gad:  their victories over the Agarites:  their
5:1. Now the sons of Ruben the firstborn of Israel, (for he was his
firstborn:  but forasmuch as he defiled his father's bed, his first
birthright was given to the sons of Joseph the son of Israel, and he
was not accounted for the firstborn.
5:2. But of the race of Juda, who was the strongest among his brethren,
came the princes:  but the first birthright was accounted to Joseph.)
Accounted to Joseph. . .Viz., as to the double portion, which belonged
to the firstborn; but the princely dignity was given to Juda, and the
priesthood to Levi.
5:3. The sons then of Ruben the firstborn of Israel were Enoch, and
Phallu, Esron, and Charmi.
5:4. The sons of Joel:  Samaia his son, Gog his son, Semei his son,
5:5. Micha his son, Reia his son, Baal his son,
5:6. Beera his son, whom Thelgathphalnasar king of the Assyrians
carried away captive, and he was prince in the tribe of Ruben.
5:7. And his brethren, and all his kindred, when they were numbered by
their families, had for princes Jehiel, and Zacharias.
5:8. And Bala the son of Azaz, the son of Samma, the son of Joel, dwelt
in Aroer as far as Nebo, and Beelmeon.
5:9. And eastward he had his habitation as far as the entrance of the
desert, and the river Euphrates.  For they possessed a great number of
cattle in the land of Galaad.
5:10. And in the days of Saul they fought against the Agarites, and
slew them, and dwelt in their tents in their stead, in all the country,
that looketh to the east of Galaad.
5:11. And the children of Gad dwelt over against them in the land of
Basan, as far as Selcha:
5:12. Johel the chief, and Saphan the second:  and Janai, and Saphat in
5:13. And their brethren according to the houses of their kindreds,
were Michael and Mosollam, and Sebe, and Jorai, and Jacan, and Zie, and
Heber, seven.
5:14. These were the sons of Abihail, the son of Huri, the son of Jara,
the son of Galaad, the son of Michael, the son of Jesisi, the son of
Jeddo, the son of Buz.
5:15. And their brethren the sons of Abdiel, the son of Guni, chief of
the house in their families,
5:16. And they dwelt in Galaad, and in Basan and in the towns thereof,
and in all the suburbs of Saron, unto the borders.
5:17. All these were numbered in the days of Joathan king of Juda, and
in the days of Jeroboam king of Israel.
5:18. The Sons of Ruben, and of Gad, and of the half tribe of Manasses,
fighting men, bearing shields, and swords, and bending the bow, and
trained up to battles, four and forty thousand seven hundred and
threescore that went out to war.
5:19. They fought against the Agarites:  but the Itureans, and Naphis,
5:20. Gave them help.  And the Agarites were delivered into their hands,
and all that were with them, because they called upon God in the
battle:  and he heard them, because they had put their faith in him.
5:21. And they took all that they possessed, of camels fifty thousand,
and of sheep two hundred and fifty thousand, and of asses two thousand,
and of men a hundred thousand souls.
5:22. And many fell down slain:  for it was the battle of the Lord.  And
they dwelt in their stead till the captivity.
5:23. And the children of the half tribe of Manasses possessed the
land, from the borders of Basan unto Baal, Hermon, and Sanir, and mount
Hermon, for their number was great.
5:24. And these were the heads of the house of their kindred, Epher,
and Jesi, and Eliel, and Esriel, and Jeremia, and Odoia, and Jediel,
most valiant and powerful men, and famous chiefs in their families.
5:25. But they forsook the God of their fathers, and went astray after
the gods of the people of the land, whom God destroyed before them.
5:26. And the God of Israel stirred up the spirit of Phul king of the
Assyrians.  and the spirit of Thelgathphalnasar king of Assur:  and he
carried away Ruben, and Gad, and the half tribe of Manasses, and
brought them to Lahela, and to Habor, and to Ara, and to the river of
Gozan, unto this day.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 6
The genealogies of Levi, and of Aaron:  the cities of the Levites.
6:1. The sons of Levi were Gerson, Caath, and Merari.
6:2. The Sons of Caath:  Amram, Isaar, Hebron, and Oziel.
6:3. The children of Amram:  Aaron, Moses, and Mary.  The Sons of Aaron:
Nadab and Abiu, Eleazar and Ithamar.
6:4. Eleazar begot Phinees, and Phinees begot Abisue,
6:5. And Abisue begot Bocci, and Bocci begot Ozi.
6:6. Ozi begot Zaraias, and Zaraias begot Maraioth.
6:7. And Maraioth begot Amarias, and Amarias begot Achitob.
6:8. Achitob begot Sadoc, and Sadoc begot Achimaas.
6:9. Achimaas begot Azarias, Azarias begot Johanan,
6:10. Johanan begot Azarias.  This is he that executed the priestly
office in the house which Solomon built in Jerusalem.
6:11. And Azarias begot Amarias, and Amarias begot Achitob.
6:12. And Achitob begot Sadoc, and Sadoc begot Sellum,
6:13. Sellum begot Helcias, and Helcias begot Azarias,
6:14. Azarias begot Saraias, and Saraias begot Josedec.
6:15. Now Josedec went out, when the Lord carried away Juda, and
Jerusalem, by the hands of Nabuchodonosor.
6:16. So the sons of Levi were Gerson, Caath, and Merari.
6:17. And these are the names of the sons of Gerson:  Lobni and Semei.
6:18. The sons of Caath:  Amram, and Isaar, and Hebron, and Oziel.
6:19. The sons of Merari:  Moholi and Musi.  And these are the kindreds
of Levi according to their families.
6:20. Of Gerson:  Lobni his son, Jahath his son, Zamma his son,
6:21. Joah his son, Addo his son, Zara his son, Jethrai his son.
6:22. The sons of Caath, Aminadab his son, Core his son, Asir his son,
6:23. Elcana his son, Abiasaph his son, Asir his son,
6:24. Thahath his son, Uriel his son, Ozias his son, Saul his son.
6:25. The sons of Elcana:  Amasai, and Achimoth.
6:26. And Elcana.  The sons of Elcana:  Sophai his son, Nahath his son,
6:27. Eliab his son, Jeroham his son, Elcana his son.
6:28. The sons of Samuel:  the firstborn Vasseni, and Abia.
6:29. And the sons of Merari, Moholi:  Lobni his son, Semei his son, Oza
6:30. Sammaa his son, Haggia his son, Asaia his son.
6:31. These are they, whom David set over the singing men of the house
of the Lord, after that the ark was placed.
6:32. And they ministered before the tabernacle of the testimony, with
singing, until Solomon built the house of the Lord in Jerusalem, and
they stood according to their order in the ministry.
6:33. And these are they that stood with their sons, of the sons of
Caath, Hemam a singer, the son of Joel, the son of Sammuel,
6:34. The son of Elcana, the son of Jeroham, the son of Eliel, the son
6:35. The son of Suph, the son of Elcana, the son of Mahath, the son of
6:36. The son of Elcana, the son of Johel, the son of Azarias, the son
of Sophonias,
6:37. The son of Thahath, the son of Asir, the son of Abiasaph, the son
6:38. The son of Isaar, the son of Caath, the son of Levi, the son of
6:39. And his brother Asaph, who stood on his right hand, Asaph the son
of Barachias, the son of Samaa.
6:40. The son of Michael, the son of Basaia, the, son of Melchia.
6:41. The son of Athanai, the son of Zara, the son of Adaia.
6:42. The son of Ethan, the son of Zamma, the son of Semei.
6:43. The son of Jeth, the son of Gerson, the son of Levi.
6:44. And the sons of Merari their brethren, on the left hand, Ethan
the son of Cusi, the son of Abdi, the son of Meloch,
6:45. The son of Hasabia, the son of Amasai, the son of Helcias,
6:46. The son of Amasai, the son of Boni, the son of Somer,
6:47. The son of Moholi, the son of Musi, the son of Merari, the son of
6:48. Their brethren also the Levites, who were appointed for all the
ministry of the tabernacle of the house of the Lord.
6:49. But Aaron and his sons offered burnt offerings upon the altar of
holocausts, and upon the altar of incense, for every work of the holy
of holies:  and to pray for Israel according to all that Moses the
servant of God had commanded.
6:50. And these are the sons of Aaron:  Eleazar his son, Phinees his
son, Abisue his son,
6:51. Bocci his son, Ozi his son, Zarahia his son,
6:52. Meraioth his son, Amarias his son, Achitob his son,
6:53. Sadoc his son, Achimaas his son.
6:54. And these are their dwelling places by the towns and confines, to
wit, of the sons of Aaron, of the families of the Caathites:  for they
fell to them by lot.
6:55. And they gave them Hebron in the land of Juda, and the suburbs
thereof round about:
6:56. But the fields of the city, and the villages to Caleb son of
6:57. And to the sons of Aaron they gave the cities for refuge Hebron,
and Lobna, and the suburbs thereof,
6:58. And Jether and Esthemo, with their suburbs, and Helon, and Dabir
with their suburbs:
6:59. Asan also, and Bethsames, with their suburbs.
6:60. And out of the tribe of Benjamin:  Gabee and its suburbs, Almath
with its suburbs, Anathoth also with its suburbs:  all their cities
throughout their families were thirteen.
6:61. And to the sons of Caath that remained of their kindred they gave
out of the half tribe of Manasses ten cities in possession.
6:62. And to the sons of Gerson by their families out of the tribe of
Issachar, and out of the tribe of Aser, and out of the tribe of
Nephtali, and out of the tribe Manasses in Basan, thirteen cities.
6:63. And to the sons of Merari by their families out of the tribe of
Ruben, and out of the tribe of Gad, and out of the tribe of Zabulon,
they gave by lot twelve cities.
6:64. And the children of Israel gave to the Levites the cities, and
their suburbs.
6:65. And they gave them by lot, out of the tribe of the sons of Juda,
and out of the tribe of the sons of Simeon, and out of the tribe of the
sons of Benjamin, these cities which they called by their names.
6:66. And to them that were of the kindred of the sons of Caath, and
the cities in their borders were of the tribe of Ephraim.
6:67. And they gave the cities of refuge Sichem with its suburbs in
mount Ephraim, and Gazer with its suburbs,
6:68. Jecmaan also with its suburbs, and Beth-horon in like manner,
6:69. Helon also with its suburbs, and Gethremmon in like manner,
6:70. And out of the half tribe of Manasses, Aner and its suburbs,
Baalam and its suburbs, to wit, to them that were left of the family of
the sons of Caath.
6:71. And to the sons of Gersom, out the kindred of the half tribe of
Manasses, Gaulon, in Basan, and its suburbs, and Astharoth with its
6:72. Out of the tribe of Issachar, Cedes and its suburbs, and Dabereth
with its suburbs;
6:73. Ramoth also and its suburbs, and Anem with its suburbs.
6:74. And out of the tribe of Aser:  Masal with its suburbs, and Abdon
in like manner;
6:75. Hucac also and its suburbs, and Rohol with its suburbs.
6:76. And out of the tribe of Nephtali, Cedes in Galilee and its
suburbs, Hamon with its suburbs, and Cariathaim, and its suburbs.
6:77. And to the sons of Merari that remained:  out of the tribe of
Zabulon, Remmono and its suburbs, and Thabor with its suburbs.
6:78. Beyond the Jordan also over against Jericho, on the east side of
the Jordan and out of the tribe of Ruben, Bosor in the wilderness with
its suburbs, and Jassa with its suburbs;
6:79. Cademoth also and its suburbs, and Mephaath with its suburbs;
6:80. Moreover also out of the tribe of Gad, Ramoth in Galaad and its
suburbs, and Manaim with its suburbs;
6:81. Hesebon also with its suburbs, and Jazer with its suburbs.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 7
Genealogies of Issachar, Benjamin, Nephtali, Manasses, Ephraim, and
7:1. Now the sons of Issachar were Thola, and Phua, Jasub and Simeron,
7:2. The sons of Thola:  Ozi and Raphaia, and Jeriel, and Jemai, and
Jebsem, and Samuel, chiefs of the houses of their kindreds.  Of the
posterity of Thola were numbered in the days of David, two and twenty
thousand six hundred most valiant men.
7:3. The sons of Ozi:  Izrahia, of whom were born Michael, and Obadia,
and Joel, and Jesia, five all great men.
7:4. And there were with them by their families and peoples, six and
thirty thousand most valiant men ready for war:  for they had many wives
and children.
7:5. Their brethren also throughout all the house of Issachar, were
numbered fourscore and seven thousand most valiant men for war.
7:6. The sons of Benjamin were Bela, and Bechor, and Jadihel, three.
7:7. The sons of Bela:  Esbon, and Ozi, and Ozial, and Jerimoth and
Urai, five chiefs of their families, and most valiant warriors, and
their number was twenty-two thousand and thirty-four.
7:8. And the sons of Bechor were Zamira, and Joas, and Eliezer, and
Elioenai, and Amai, and Jerimoth, and Abia, and Anathoth, and Almath:
all these were the sons of Bechor.
7:9. And they were numbered by the families, heads of their kindreds,
most valiant men for war, twenty thousand and two hundred.
7:10. And the son of Jadihel:  Balan.  And the sons of Balan:  Jehus and
Benjamin, and Aod, and Chanana, and Zethan and Tharsis, and Ahisahar.
7:11. All these were sons of Jadihel, heads of their kindreds, most
valiant men, seventeen thousand and two hundred fifty to go out to war.
7:12. Sepham also and Hapham the sons of Hir:  and Hasim the sons of
7:13. And the sons of Nephtali were Jasiel, and Guni, and Jezer, and
Sellum, sons of Bala.
7:14. And the son of Manasses, Ezriel:  and his concubine the Syrian
bore Machir the father of Galaad.
7:15. And Machir took wives for his sons Happhim, and Saphan:  and he
had a sister named Maacha:  the name of the second was Salphaad, and
Salphaad had daughters.
7:16. And Maacha the wife of Machir bore a son, and she called his name
Phares:  and the name of his brother was Sares:  and his sons were Ulam
7:17. And the son of Ulam, Baden.  These are the sons of Galaad, the son
of Machir, the son of Manasses.
7:18. And his sister named Queen bore Goodlyman, and Abiezer, and
7:19. And the sons of Semida were Ahiu, and Sechem, and Leci and Aniam.
7:20. And the sons of Ephraim were Suthala, Bared his son, Thahath his
son, Elada his son, Thahath his son, and his son Zabad,
7:21. And his son Suthala, and his son Ezer, and Elad:  and the men of
Geth born in the land slew them, because they came down to invade their
possessions.
7:22. And Ephraim their father mourned many days, and his brethren came
to comfort him.
7:23. And he went in to his wife:  and she conceived and bore a son, and
he called his name Beria, because he was born when it went evil with
Beria. . .This name signifies in evil, or in affliction.
7:24. And his daughter was Sara, who built Bethoron, the nether and the
upper, and Ozensara.
7:25. And Rapha was his son, and Reseph, and Thale, of whom was born
7:26. Who begot Laadan:  and his son was Ammiud, who begot Elisama,
7:27. Of whom was born Nun, who had Josue for his son.
7:28. And their possessions and habitations were Bethel with her
daughters, and eastward Noran, and westward Gazer and her daughters,
Sichem also with her daughters, as far as Asa with her daughters.
7:29. And by the borders of the sons of Manasses Bethsan and her
daughters, Thanach and her daughters, Mageddo and her daughters:  Dor
and her daughters:  in these dwelt the children of Joseph, the son of
7:30. The children of Aser were Jemna, and Jesua, and Jessui, and
Baria, and Sara their sister.
7:31. And the sons of Baria:  Haber, and Melchiel:  he is the father of
7:32. And Heber begot Jephlat, and Somer, and Hotham, and Suaa their
7:33. The sons of Jephlat:  Phosech, and Chamaal, and Asoth:  these are
the sons of Jephlat.
7:34. And the sons of Somer:  Ahi, and Roaga and Haba, and Aram.
7:35. And the sons of Helem his brother:  Supha, and Jemna, and Selles,
7:36. The sons of Supha:  Sue, Hernapher, and Sual, and Beri, and Jamra.
7:37. Bosor and Hod, and Samma, and Salusa, and Jethran, and Bera.
7:38. The sons of Jether:  Jephone, and Phaspha, and Ara.
7:39. And the sons of Olla:  Aree, and Haniel, and Resia.
7:40. All these were sons of Aser, heads of their families, choice and
most valiant captains of captains:  and the number of them that were of
the age that was fit for war, was six and twenty thousand.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 8
The posterity of Benjamin is further declared down to Saul.  His issue.
8:1. Now Benjamin begot Bale his firstborn, Asbel the second, Ahara the
8:2. Nohaa the fourth, and Rapha the fifth.
8:3. And the sons of Bale were Addar, and Gera, and Abiud,
8:4. And Abisue, and Naaman, and Ahoe,
8:5. And Gera, and Sephuphan, and Huram.
8:6. These are the sons of Abed, heads of families that dwelt in Gabaa,
who were removed into Manahath.
8:7. And Naaman, and Achia, and Gera he removed them, and begot Oza,
8:8. And Saharim begot in the land of Moab, after he sent away Husim
and Bara his wives.
8:9. And he begot of Hodes his wife Jobab, and Sebia, and Mosa, and
8:10. And Jehus and Sechia, and Marma.  These were his sons heads of
their families.
8:11. And Mehusim begot Abitob, and Elphaal.
8:12. And the sons of Elphaal were Heber, and Misaam, and Samad:  who
built Ono, and Lod, and its daughters.
8:13. And Baria, and Sama were heads of their kindreds that dwelt in
Aialon:  these drove away the inhabitants of Geth.
8:14. And Ahio, and Sesac, and Jerimoth,
8:15. And Zabadia, and Arod, and Heder,
8:16. And Michael, and Jespha, and Joha, the sons of Baria.
8:17. And Zabadia, and Mosollam, Hezeci, and Heber,
8:18. And Jesamari, and Jezlia, and Jobab, sons of Elphaal,
8:19. And Jacim, and Zechri, and Zabdi,
8:20. And Elioenai, and Selethai, and Elial,
8:21. And Adaia, and Baraia, and Samareth, the sons of Semei.
8:22. And Jespham, and Heber, and Eliel,
8:23. And Abdon, and Zechri, and Hanan,
8:24. And Hanania, and Elam, and Anathothia.
8:25. And Jephdaia, and Phanuel the sons of Sesac.
8:26. And Samsari, and Sohoria and Otholia,
8:27. And Jersia, and Elia, and Zechri, the sons of Jeroham.
8:28. These were the chief fathers, and heads of their families who
dwelt in Jerusalem.
8:29. And at Gabaon dwelt Abigabaon, and the name of his wife was
8:30. And his firstborn son Abdon, and Sur, and Cis, and Baal, and
8:31. And Gedor, and Ahio, and Zacher, and Macelloth:
8:32. And Macelloth begot Samaa:  and they dwelt over against their
brethren in Jerusalem with their brethren.
8:33. And Ner begot Cis and Cis begot Saul.  And Saul begot Jonathan and
Melchisua, and Abinadab, and Esbaal.
Esbaal. . .Alias Isboseth.
8:34. And the son of Jonathan was Meribbaal:  and Meribbaal begot Micha.
Meribbaal. . .Alias Miphiboseth.  2 Kings 4.4.
8:35. And the sons of Micha were Phithon, and Melech, and Tharaa, and
8:36. And Ahaz begot Joada:  and Joada begot Alamath, and Azmoth, and
Zamri:  and Zamri begot Mosa,
8:37. And Mosa begot Banaa, whose son was Rapha, of whom was born
Elasa, who begot Asel.
8:38. And Asel had six sons whose names were Ezricam, Bochru, Ismahel,
Saris, Obdia, and Hanan.  All these were the sons of Asel.
8:39. And the sons of Esec, his brother, were Ulam the firstborn, and
Jehus the second, and Eliphalet the third.
8:40. And the sons of Ulam were most valiant men, and archers of great
strength:  and they had many sons and grandsons, even to a hundred and
fifty.  All these were children of Benjamin.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 9
The Israelites, priests, and Levites, who first dwelt in Jerusalem
after the captivity.  A repetition of the genealogy of Saul.
9:1. And all Israel was numbered:  and the sum of them was written in
the book of the kings of Israel, and Juda:  and they were carried away
to Babylon for their transgression.
9:2. Now the first that dwelt in their possessions, and in their
cities, were the Israelites, and the priests, and the Levites, and the
Nathineans. . .These were the posterity of the Gabaonites, whose office
was to bring wood, water, etc., for the service of the temple.
9:3. And in Jerusalem dwelt of the children of Juda, and of the
children of Benjamin, and of the children of Ephraim, and of Manasses.
9:4. Othei the son of Ammiud, the son of Amri, the son of Omrai, the
son of Bonni of the sons of Phares the son of Juda.
9:5. And of Siloni:  Asaia the firstborn, and his sons.
9:6. And of the sons of Zara:  Jehuel and their brethren, six hundred
9:7. And of the sons of Benjamin:  Salo the son of Mosollam, the son of
Oduia, the son of Asana:
9:8. And Jobania the son of Jeroham:  and Ela the son of Ozi, the son of
Mochori and Mosallam the son of Saphatias, the son of Rahuel, the son
9:9. And their brethren by their families, nine hundred and fifty-six.
All these were heads of their families, by the houses of their fathers.
9:10. And of the priests:  Jedaia, Joiarib, and Jachin:
9:11. And Azarias the son of Helcias, the son of Mosollam, the son of
Sadoc, the son of Maraioth, the son of Achitob, high priest of the
house of God.
9:12. And Adaias the son of Jeroham, the son of Phassur, the son of
Melchias, and Maasai the son of Adiel, the son of Jezra, the son of
Mosollam, the son of Mosollamith, the son of Emmer.
9:13. And their brethren heads in their families a thousand seven
hundred and threescore, very strong and able men for the work of the
ministry in the house of God.
9:14. And of the Levites:  Semeia the son of Hassub the son of Ezricam,
the son of Hasebia of the sons of Merari.
9:15. And Bacbacar the carpenter, and Galal, and Mathania the son of
Micha, the son of Zechri the son of Asaph:
9:16. And Obdia the son of Semeia, the son of Galal, the son of
Idithum:  and Barachia the son of Asa, the son of Elcana, who dwelt in
the suburbs of Netophati.
9:17. And the porters were Sellum, and Accub, and Telmon, and Ahiman:
and their brother Sellum was the prince,
9:18. Until that time, in the king's gate eastward, the sons of Levi
waited by their turns.
9:19. But Sellum the son of Core, the son of Abiasaph, the son of Core,
with his brethren and his father's house, the Corites were over the
works of the service, keepers of the gates of the tabernacle:  and their
families in turns were keepers of the entrance of the camp of the Lord.
9:20. And Phinees the son of Eleazar, was their prince before the Lord,
9:21. And Zacharias the son of Mosollamia, was porter of the gate of
the tabernacle of the testimony:
9:22. All these that were chosen to be porters at the gates, were two
hundred and twelve:  the they were registered in their proper towns:
whom David and Samuel the seer appointed in their trust.
9:23. As well them as their sons, to keep the gates of the house of the
Lord, and the tabernacle by their turns.
9:24. In four quarters were the porters:  that is to say, toward the
east, and west, and north, and south.
9:25. And their brethren dwelt in village, and came upon their sabbath
days from time to time.
9:26. To these four Levites were committed the whole number of the
porters, and they were over the chambers, and treasures, of the house
of the Lord.
9:27. And they abode in their watches round about the temple of the
Lord:  that when it was time, they might open the gates in the morning.
9:28. And some of their stock had the charge of the vessels for the
ministry:  for the vessels were both brought in and carried out by
9:29. Some of them also had the instruments of the sanctuary committed
unto them, and the charge of the fine flour, and wine, and oil, and
frankincense, and spices.
9:30. And the sons of the priests made the ointments of the spices.
9:31. And Mathathias a Levite, the firstborn of Sellum the Corite, was
overseer of such things as were fried the fryingpan.
9:32. And some of the sons of Caath their brethren, were over the
loaves of proposition, to prepare always new for every sabbath.
9:33. These are the chief of the singing men of the families of the
Levites, who dwelt in the chambers, by the temple, that they might
serve continually day and night in their ministry.
9:34. The heads of the Levites, princes in their families, abode in
9:35. And in Gabaon dwelt Jehiel the father of Gabaon, and the name of
his wife was Maacha:
9:36. His firstborn son Abdon, and Sur, and Cis, and Baal, and Ner, and
9:37. Gedor also, and Ahio, and Zacharias, and Macelloth.
9:38. And Macelloth begot Samaan:  these dwelt over against their
brethren in Jerusalem, with their brethren.
9:39. Now Ner begot Cis:  and Cis begot Saul:  and Saul begot Jonathan
and Melchisua, and Abinadab, and Esbaal.
9:40. And the son of Jonathan, was Meribbaal:  and Meribbaal begot
9:41. And the sons of Micha, were Phithon, and Melech, and Tharaa, and
9:42. And Ahaz begot Jara, and Jara begot Alamath, and Azmoth, and
Zamri.  And Zamri begot Mosa.
9:43. And Mosa begot Banaa:  whose son Raphaia begot Elasa:  of whom was
9:44. And Asel had six sons whose names are, Ezricam Bochru, Ismahel,
Saria, Obdia, Hanan:  these are the sons of Asel.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 10
Saul is slain for his sins:  he is buried by the men of Jabes.
10:1. Now the Philistines fought against Israel, and the men of Israel
fled from before the Philistines, and fell down wounded in mount
10:2. And the Philistines drew near pursuing after Saul, and his sons,
and they killed Jonathan, and Abinadab, and Melchisua the sons of Saul.
10:3. And the battle grew hard against Saul and the archers reached
him, and wounded him with arrows.
10:4. And Saul said to his armourbearer:  Draw thy sword, and kill me:
lest these uncircumcised come, and mock me.  But his armourbearer would
not, for he was struck with fear:  so Saul took his sword, and fell upon
10:5. And when his armourbearer saw it, to wit, that Saul was dead, he
also fell upon his sword and died.
10:6. So Saul died, and his three sons, and all his house fell
10:7. And when the men of Israel, that dwelt in the plains, saw this,
they fled:  and Saul and his sons being dead, they forsook their cities,
and were scattered up and down:  and the Philistines came, and dwelt in
10:8. And the next day the Philistines taking away the spoils of them
that were slain, found Saul and his sons lying on mount Gelboe.
10:9. And when they had stripped him, and out off his head, and taken
away his armour, they sent it into their land, to be carried about, and
shewn in the temples of the idols and to the people.
10:10. And his armour they dedicated in the temple of their god, and
his head they fastened up in the temple of Dagon.
10:11. And when the men of Jabes Galaad had heard this, to wit, all
that the Philistines had done to Saul,
10:12. All the valiant men of them arose, and took the bodies of Saul
and of his sons, and brought them to Jabes, and buried their bones
under the oak that was in Jabes, and they fasted seven days.
10:13. So Saul died for his iniquities, because he transgressed the
commandment of the Lord, which he had commanded, and kept it not:  and
moreover consulted also a witch,
10:14. And trusted not in the Lord:  therefore he slew him, and
transferred his kingdom to David the son of Isai.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 11
David is made king.  He taketh the castle of Sion.  A catalogue of his
valiant men.
11:1. Then all Israel gathered themselves to David in Hebron, saying:
We are thy bone, and thy flesh.
11:2. Yesterday also, and the day before when Saul was king, thou wast
he that leddest out and broughtest in Israel:  for the Lord thy God said
to thee:  Thou shalt feed my people Israel, and thou shalt be ruler over
11:3. So all the ancients of Israel came to the king to Hebron, and
David made a covenant with them before the Lord:  and they anointed him
king over Israel according to the word of the Lord which he spoke in
the hand of Samuel.
11:4. And David and all Israel went to Jerusalem, which is Jebus, where
the Jebusites were the inhabitants of the land.
11:5. And the inhabitants of Jebus said to David:  Thou shalt not come
in here.  But David took the castle of Sion, which is the city of David.
11:6. And he said:  Whosoever shall first strike the Jebusites, shall be
the head and chief captain.  And Joab the son of Sarvia went up first,
and was made the general.
11:7. And David dwelt in the castle, and therefore it was called the
city of David,
11:8. And he built the city round about from Mello all round, and Joab
built the rest of the city.
11:9. And David went on growing and increasing, and the Lord of hosts
was with him.
11:10. These are the chief of the valiant man of David, who helped him
to be made king over all Israel, according to the word of the Lord,
which he spoke to Israel.
11:11. And this is the number of the heroes of David:  Jesbaam the son
of Hachamoni the chief among the thirty:  he lifted up his spear against
three hundred wounded by him at one time.
11:12. And after him was Eleazar his uncle's son the Ahohite, who was
one of the three mighties.
11:13. He was with David in Phesdomim, when the Philistines were
gathered to that place to battle:  and the field of that country was
full of barley, and the people fled from before the Philistines.
11:14. But these men stood in the midst of the field, and defended it:
and they slew the Philistines, and the Lord gave a great deliverance to
11:15. And three of the thirty captains went down to the rock, wherein
David was, to the cave of Odollam, when the Philistines encamped in the
valley of Raphaim.
11:16. And David was in a hold, and the garrison of the Philistines in
11:17. And David longed, and said:  O that some man would give me water
of the cistern of Bethlehem, which is in the gate.
11:18. And these three broke through the midst of the camp of the
Philistines, and drew water out of the cistern of Bethlehem, which was
in the gate, and brought it to David to drink:  and he would not drink
of it, but rather offered it to the Lord,
11:19. Saying:  God forbid that I should do this in the sight of my God,
and should drink the blood of these men:  for with the danger of their
lives they have brought me the water.  And therefore he would not drink.
These things did the three most valiant.
11:20. And Abisai the brother of Joab, he was chief of three, and he
lifted up his spear against three hundred whom he slew, and he was
renowned among the three,
11:21. And illustrious among the second three, and their captain:  but
yet he attained not to the first three.
11:22. Banaias the son of Joiada a most valiant man, of Cabseel, who
had done many acts:  he slew the two ariels of Moab:  and he went down,
and killed a lion in the midst of a pit in the time of snow.
Two ariels. . .That is, two lions, or lion-like men; for Ariel in Hebrew
signifies a lion.
11:23. And he slew an Egyptian, whose stature was of five cubits, and
who had a spear like a weaver's beam:  and he went down to him with a
staff, and plucked away the spear, that he held in his hand, and slew
him with his own spear.
11:24. These things did Banaias the son of Joiada, who was renowned
among the three valiant ones,
11:25. And the first among the thirty, but yet to the three he attained
not:  and David made him of his council.
11:26. Moreover the most valiant men of the army, were Asahel brother
of Joab, and Elchanan the son of his uncle of Bethlehem,
11:27. Sammoth an Arorite, Helles a Phalonite,
11:28. Ira the son of Acces a Thecuite, Abiezer an Anathothite,
11:29. Sobbochai a Husathite, Ilai an Ahohite,
11:30. Maharai a Netophathite, Heled the son of Baana a Netophathite,
11:31. Ethai the son of Ribai of Gabaath of the sons of Benjamin, Banai
a Pharathonite,
11:32. Hurai of the torrent Gaas, Abiel an Arbathite, Azmoth a
Bauramite, Eliaba a Salabonite,
11:33. The sons of Assem a Gezonite, Jonathan the son of Sage an
11:34. Ahiam the son of Sachar an Ararite,
11:35. Eliphal the son of Ur,
11:36. Hepher a Mecherathite, Ahia a Phelonite,
11:37. Hesro a Carmelite, Naarai the son of Azbai,
11:38. Joel the brother of Nathan, Mibahar the son of Agarai.
11:39. Selec an Ammonite, Naharai a Berothite, the armourbearer of Joab
the son of Sarvia.
11:40. Ira a Jethrite, Gareb a Jethrite,
11:41. Urias a Hethite, Zabad the son of Oholi,
11:42. Adina the son of Siza a Rubenite the prince of the Rubenites,
and thirty with him:
11:43. Hanan the son of Maacha, and Josaphat a Mathanite,
11:44. Ozia an Astarothite, Samma, and Jehiel the sons of Hotham an
11:45. Jedihel the son of Zamri, and Joha his brother a Thosaite,
11:46. Eliel a Mahumite, and Jeribai, and Josaia the sons of Elnaim,
and Jethma a Moabite, Eliel, and Obed, and Jasiel of Masobia.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 12
Who followed David when he fled from Saul.  And who came to Hebron to
make him king.
12:1. Now these are they that came to David to Siceleg, while he yet
fled from Saul the son of Cis, and they were most valiant and excellent
12:2. Bending the bow, and using either hand in hurling stones with
slings, and shooting arrows:  of the brethren of Saul of Benjamin.
12:3. The chief was Ahiezer, and Joas, the sons of Samoa of Gabaath,
and Jaziel, and Phallet the sons of Azmoth, and Beracha, and Jehu an
Anathothite.
12:4. And Samaias of Gabaon, the stoutest amongst the thirty and over
the thirty; Jeremias, and Jeheziel and Johanan, and Jozabad of
12:5. And Eluzai, and Jerimuth, and Baalia, and Samaria, and Saphatia
the Haruphite;
12:6. Elcana, and Jesia, and Azareel, and Joezer, and Jesbaam of
12:7. And Joela, and Zabadia the sons of Jeroham of Gedor.
12:8. From Gaddi also there went over to David, when he lay hid in the
wilderness most valiant men, and excellent warriors, holding shield and
spear:  whose faces were like the faces of a lion, and they were swift
like the roebucks on the mountains.
12:9. Ezer the chief, Obdias the second, Eliab the third,
12:10. Masmana the fourth, Jeremias the fifth,
12:11. Ethi the sixth, Eliel the seventh,
12:12. Johanan the eighth, Elzebad the ninth,
12:13. Jerenias the tenth, Machbani the eleventh,
12:14. These were of the sons of Gad, captains of the army:  the least
of them was captain over a hundred soldiers, and the greatest over a
12:15. These are they who passed over the Jordan in the first month,
when it is used to flow over its banks:  and they put to flight all that
dwelt in the valleys both toward the east and toward the west.
12:16. And there came also of the men of Benjamin, and of Juda to the
hold, in which David abode.
12:17. And David went out to meet them, and said:  If you are come
peaceably to me to help me, let my heart be joined to you:  but if you
plot against me for my enemies whereas I have no iniquity in my hands,
let the God of our fathers see, and judge.
12:18. But the spirit came upon Amasai the chief among thirty, and he
said:  We are thine, O David, and for thee, O son of Isai:  peace, peace
be to thee, and peace to thy helpers.  For thy God helpeth thee.  So
David received them, and made them captains of the band.
12:19. And there were some of Manasses that went over to David, when he
came with the Philistines against Saul to fight:  but he did not fight
with them:  because the lords of the Philistines taking counsel sent him
back, saying:  With the danger of our heads he will return to his master
12:20. So when he went back to Siceleg, there fled to him of Manasses,
Ednas and Jozabad, and Jedihel, and Michael, and Ednas, and Jozabad,
and Eliu, and Salathi, captains of thousands in Manasses.
12:21. These helped David against the rovers:  for they were all most
valiant men, and were made commanders in the army.
12:22. Moreover day by day there came some to David to help him till
they became a great number, like the army of God.
12:23. And this is the number of the chiefs of the army who came to
David, when he was in Hebron, to transfer to him the kingdom of Saul,
according to the word of the Lord.
12:24. The sons of Juda bearing shield and spear, six thousand eight
hundred well appointed to war.
12:25. Of the sons of Simeon valiant men for war, seven thousand one
12:26. Of the sons of Levi, four thousand six hundred.
12:27. And Joiada prince of the race of Aaron, and with him three
thousand seven hundred.
12:28. Sadoc also a young man of excellent disposition, and the house
of his father, twenty-two principal men.
12:29. And of the sons of Benjamin the brethren of Saul, three
thousand:  for hitherto a great part of them followed the house of Saul.
12:30. And of the sons of Ephraim twenty thousand eight hundred, men of
great valour renowned in their kindreds.
12:31. And of the half tribe of Manasses, eighteen thousand, every one
by their names, came to make David king.
12:32. Also of the sons of Issachar men of understanding, that knew all
times to order what Israel should do, two hundred principal men:  and
all the rest of the tribe followed their counsel.
12:33. And of Zabulon such as went forth to battle, and stood in array
well appointed with armour for war, there came fifty thousand to his
aid, with no double heart.
12:34. And of Nephtali, a thousand leaders:  and with them seven and
thirty thousand, furnished with shield and spear.
12:35. Of Dan also twenty-eight thousand six hundred prepared for
12:36. And of Aser forty thousand going forth to fight, and challenging
12:37. And on the other side of the Jordan of the sons of Ruben, and of
Gad, and of the half of the tribe of Manasses a hundred and twenty
thousand, furnished with arms for war.
12:38. All these men of war well appointed to fight, came with a
perfect heart to Hebron, to make David king over all Israel:  and all
the rest also of Israel, were of one heart to make David king.
12:39. And they were there with David three days eating and drinking:
for their brethren had prepared for them.
12:40. Moreover they that were near them even as far as Issachar, and
Zabulon, and Nephtali, brought loaves on asses, and on camels, and on
mules, and on oxen, to eat:  meal, figs, raisins, wine, oil, and oxen,
and sheep in abundance, for there was joy in Israel.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 13
The ark is brought from Cariathiarim.  Oza for touching it is struck
13:1. David consulted with the captains of thousands, and of hundreds,
and with all the commanders.
13:2. And he said to all the assembly of Israel:  If it please you; and
if the words which I speak come from the Lord our God, let us send to
the rest of our brethren into all the countries of Israel, and to the
priests, and the Levites, that dwell in the suburbs of the cities, to
gather themselves to us,
13:3. And let us bring again the ark of our God to us:  for we sought it
not in the days of Saul.
13:4. And all the multitude answered that it should be so:  for the word
pleased all the people.
13:5. So David assembled all Israel from Sihor of Egypt, even to the
entering into Emath, to bring the ark of God from Cariathiarim.
13:6. And David went up with all the men of Israel to the hill of
Cariathiarim which is in Juda, to bring thence the ark of the Lord God
sitting upon the cherubims, where his name is called upon.
13:7. And they carried the ark of God upon a new cart out of the house
of Abinadab.  And Oza and his brother drove the cart.
13:8. And David and all Israel played before God with all their might
with hymns, and with harps, and with psalteries, and timbrels, and
cymbals, and trumpets,
13:9. And when they came to the floor of Chidon, Oza put forth his
hand, to hold up the ark:  for the ox being wanton had made it lean a
little on one side.
13:10. And the Lord was angry with Oza, and struck him, because he had
touched the ark; and he died there before the Lord.
13:11. And David was troubled because the Lord had divided Oza:  and he
called that place the Breach of Oza to this day.
13:12. And he feared God at that time, saying:  How can I bring in the
ark of God to me?
13:13. And therefore he brought it not home to himself, that is, into
the city of David, but carried it aside into the house of Obededom the
13:14. And the ark of God remained in the house of Obededom three
months:  and the Lord blessed his house, and all that he had.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 14
David's house, and children:  his victories over the Philistines.
14:1. And Hiram king of Tyre sent messengers to David, and cedar trees,
and masons, and carpenters, to build him a house.
14:2. And David perceived that the Lord had confirmed him king over
Israel, and that his kingdom was exalted over his people Israel.
14:3. And David took other wives in Jerusalem:  and he begot sons, and
14:4. Now these are the names of them that were born to him in
Jerusalem:  Samua, and Sobad, Nathan, and Solomon,
14:5. Jebahar, and Elisua, and Eliphalet,
14:6. And Noga, and Napheg, and Japhia,
14:7. Elisama, and Baaliada, and Eliphalet.
14:8. And the Philistines hearing that David was anointed king over all
Israel, went all up to seek him:  and David heard of it, and went out
against them.
14:9. And the Philistines came and spread themselves in the vale of
14:10. And David consulted the Lord, saying:  Shall I go up against the
Philistines, and wilt thou deliver them into my hand?  And the Lord said
to him:  Go up, and I will deliver them into thy hand.
14:11. And when they were come to Baalpharasim, David defeated them
there, and he said:  God hath divided my enemies by my hand, as waters
are divided:  and therefore the name of that place was called
Baalpharasim.
14:12. And they left there their gods, and David commanded that they
should be burnt.
14:13. Another time also the Philistines made an irruption, and spread
themselves abroad in the valley.
14:14. And David consulted God again, and God said to him:  Go not up
after them, turn away from them, and come upon them over against the
14:15. And when thou shalt hear the sound of one going in the tops of
the pear trees, then shalt thou go out to battle.  For God is gone out
before thee to strike the army of the Philistines.
14:16. And David did as God had commanded him, and defeated the army of
the Philistines, slaying them from Gabaon to Gazera.
14:17. And the name of David became famous in all countries, and the
Lord made all nations fear aim.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 15
The ark is brought into the city of David, with great solemnity.  Michol
derideth David's devotion.
15:1. He made also houses for himself in the city of David:  and built a
place for the ark of God, and pitched a tabernacle for it.
15:2. Then David said:  No one ought to carry the ark of God, but the
Levites, whom the Lord hath chosen to carry it, and to minister unto
himself for ever.
15:3. And he gathered all Israel together into Jerusalem, that the ark
of God might be brought into its place, which he had prepared for it.
15:4. And the sons of Aaron also, and the Levites.
15:5. Of the children of Caath, Uriel was the chief, and his brethren a
hundred and twenty.
15:6. Of the sons of Merari, Asaia the chief, and his brethren two
hundred and twenty.
15:7. Of the sons of Gersom, Joel the chief, and his brethren a hundred
15:8. Of the sons of Elisaphan, Semeias the chief:  and his brethren two
15:9. Of the sons of Hebron, Eliel the chief:  and his brethren eighty.
15:10. Of the sons of Oziel, Aminadab the chief:  and his brethren a
hundred and twelve.
15:11. And David called Sadoc, and Abiathar the priests, and the
Levites, Uriel, Asaia, Joel, Semeia, Eliel, and Aminadab:
15:12. And he said to them:  You that are the heads of the Levitical
families, be sanctified with your brethren, and bring the ark of the
Lord the God of Israel to the place, which is prepared for it:
15:13. Lest as the Lord at first struck us, because you were not
present, the same should now also come to pass, by our doing some thing
against the law.
15:14. So the priests and the Levites were sanctified, to carry the ark
of the Lord the God of Israel.
15:15. And the sons of Levi took the ark of God as Moses had commanded,
according to the word of the Lord, upon their shoulders, with the
15:16. And David spoke to the chiefs of the Levites, to appoint some of
their brethren to be singers with musical instruments, to wit, on
psalteries, and harps, and cymbals, that the joyful noise might resound
15:17. And they appointed Levites, Hemam the son of Joel, and of his
brethren Asaph the son of Barachias:  and of the sons of Merari, their
brethren:  Ethan the son of Casaia.
15:18. And with them their brethren:  in the second rank, Zacharias, and
Ben, and Jaziel, and Semiramoth, and Jahiel, and Ani, and Eliab, and
Banaias, and Maasias, and Mathathias, and Eliphalu, and Macenias, and
Obededom, and Jehiel, the porters.
15:19. Now the singers, Heman, Asaph, and Ethan, sounded with cymbals
15:20. And Zacharias, and Oziel, and Semiramoth, and Jehiel, and Ani,
and Eliab, and Maasias, and Banaias, sung mysteries upon psalteries.
15:21. And Mathathias, and Eliphalu, and Macenias and Obededom, and
Jehiel and Ozaziu, sung a song of victory for the octave upon harps.
15:22. And Chonenias chief of the Levites, presided over the prophecy,
to give out the tunes:  for he was very skilful.
The prophecy, to give out the tunes. . .Singing praises to God is here
called prophecy:  the more, because these singers were often inspired
15:23. And Barachias, and Elcana, were doorkeepers of the ark.
15:24. And Sebenias, and Josaphat, and Nathanael, and Amasai, and
Zacharias, and Banaias, and Eliezer the priests, sounded with trumpets,
before the ark of God:  and Obededom and Jehias were porters of the ark.
15:25. So David and all the ancients of Israel, and the captains over
thousands, went to bring the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of the
house of Obededom with joy.
15:26. And when God had helped the Levites who carried the ark of the
covenant of the Lord, they offered in sacrifice seven oxen, and seven
15:27. And David was clothed with a robe of fine linen, and all the
Levites that carried the ark, and the singing men, and Chonenias the
ruler of the prophecy among the singers:  and David also had on him an
ephod of linen.
15:28. And all Israel brought the ark of the covenant of the Lord with
joyful shouting, and sounding with the sound of the cornet, and with
trumpets, and cymbals, and psalteries, and harps.
15:29. And when the ark of the covenant of the Lord was come to the
city of David, Michol the daughter of Saul looking out at a window, saw
king David dancing and playing, and she despised him in her heart.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 16
The ark is placed in the tabernacle.  Sacrifice is offered.  David
blesseth the people, disposeth the offices of Levites, and maketh a
psalm of praise to God.
16:1. So they brought the ark of God, and set it in the midst of the
tent, which David had pitched for it:  and they offered holocausts, and
peace offerings before God.
16:2. And when David had made an end of offering holocausts, and peace
offerings, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord.
16:3. And he divided to all and every one, both men and women, a loaf
of bread, and a piece of roasted beef, and flour fried with oil.
16:4. And he appointed Levites to minister before the ark of the Lord,
and to remember his works, and to glorify, and praise the Lord God of
16:5. Asaph the chief, and next after him Zacharias:  moreover Jahiel,
and Semiramoth, and Jehiel, and Mathathias, and Eliab, and Banaias, and
Obededom:  and Jehiel over the instruments of psaltery, and harps:  and
Asaph sounded with cymbals:
16:6. But Banaias, and Jaziel the priests, to sound the trumpet
continually before the ark of the covenant of the Lord.
16:7. In that day David made Asaph the chief to give praise to the Lord
with his brethren.
16:8. Praise ye the Lord, and call upon his name:  make known his doings
among the nations.
16:9. Sing to him, yea, sing praises to him:  and relate all his
wondrous works.
16:10. Praise ye his holy name:  let the heart of them rejoice, that
seek the Lord.
16:11. Seek ye the Lord, and his power:  seek ye his face evermore.
16:12. Remember his wonderful works, which he hath done:  his signs, and
the judgments of his mouth.
16:13. O ye seed of Israel his servants, ye children of Jacob his
16:14. He is the Lord our God:  his judgments are in all the earth.
16:15. Remember for ever his covenant:  the word, which he commanded to
a thousand generations.
16:16. The covenant which he made with Abraham:  and his oath to Isaac.
16:17. And he appointed the same to Jacob for a precept:  and to Israel
for an everlasting covenant:
16:18. Saying:  To thee will I give the land of Chanaan:  the lot of your
inheritance.
16:19. When they were but a small number:  very few and sojourners in
16:20. And they passed from nation to nation:  and from a kingdom to
another people.
16:21. He suffered no man to do them wrong:  and reproved kings for
16:22. Touch not my anointed:  and do no evil to my prophets.
16:23. Sing ye to the Lord, all the earth:  shew forth from day to day
his salvation.
16:24. Declare his glory among the Gentiles:  his wonders among all
16:25. For the Lord is great and exceedingly to be praised:  and he is
to be feared above all gods.
16:26. For all the gods of the nations are idols:  but the Lord made the
16:27. Praise and magnificence are before him:  strength and joy in his
16:28. Bring ye to the Lord, O ye families of the nations:  bring ye to
the Lord glory and empire.
16:29. Give to the Lord glory to his name, bring up sacrifice, and come
ye in his sight:  and adore the Lord in holy becomingness.
16:30. Let all the earth be moved at his presence:  for he hath founded
the world immoveable.
16:31. Let the heavens rejoice, and the earth be glad:  and let them say
among the nations:  The Lord hath reigned.
16:32. Let the sea roar, and the fulness thereof:  let the fields
rejoice, and all things that are in them.
16:33. Then shall the trees of the wood give praise before the Lord:
because he is come to judge the earth.
16:34. Give ye glory to the Lord, for he is good:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
16:35. And say ye:  Save us, O God our savior:  and gather us together,
and deliver us from the nations, that we may give glory to thy holy
name, and may rejoice in singing thy praises.
16:36. Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel from eternity to eternity:
and let all the people say Amen, and a hymn to God.
16:37. So he left there before the ark of the covenant of the Lord,
Asaph and his brethren to minister in the presence of the ark
continually day by day, and in their courses.
16:38. And Obededom, with his brethren sixty-eight:  and Obededom the
son of Idithun, and Hosa he appointed to be porters.
16:39. And Sadoc the priest, and his brethren priests, before the
tabernacle of the Lord in the high place, which was in Gabaon.
16:40. That they should offer holocausts to the Lord upon the altar of
holocausts continually, morning and evening, according to all that is
written in the law of the Lord, which he commanded Israel.
16:41. And after him Heman, and Idithun, and the rest that were chosen,
every one by his name to give praise to the Lord:  because his mercy
endureth for ever.
16:42. And Heman and Idithun sounded the trumpet, and played on the
cymbals, and all kinds of musical instruments to sing praises to God:
and the sons of Idithun he made porters.
16:43. And all the people returned to their houses:  and David to bless
also his own house.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 17
David's purpose to build a temple, is rewarded by most ample promises:
David's thanksgiving.
17:1. Now when David was dwelling in his house, he said to Nathan the
prophet:  Behold I dwell in a house of cedar:  and the ark of the
covenant of the Lord is under skins.
17:2. And Nathan said to David:  Do all that is in thy heart:  for God is
17:3. Now that night the word of God came to Nathan, saying:
17:4. Go, and speak to David my servant:  Thus saith the Lord:  Thou
shalt not build me a house to dwell in.
17:5. For I have not remained in a house from the time that I brought
up Israel, to this day:  but I have been always changing places in a
tabernacle, and in a tent,
17:6. Abiding with all Israel.  Did I ever speak to any one, of all the
judges of Israel whom I charged to feed my people, saying:  Why have you
not built me a house of cedar?
17:7. Now therefore thus shalt thou say to my servant David:  Thus saith
the Lord of hosts:  I took thee from the pastures, from following the
flock, that thou shouldst be ruler of my people Israel.
17:8. And I have been with thee whithersoever thou hast gone:  and have
slain all thy enemies before thee, and have made thee a name like that
of one of the great ones that are renowned in the earth.
17:9. And I have given a place my people Israel:  they shall be planted,
and shall dwell therein, and shall be moved no more, neither shall the
children of iniquity waste them, as at the beginning,
17:10. Since the days that I gave judges to my people Israel, and have
humbled all thy enemies.  And I declare to thee, that the Lord will
build thee a house.
17:11. And when thou shalt have ended thy days to go to thy fathers, I
will raise up thy seed after thee, which shall be of thy sons:  and I
will establish his kingdom.
17:12. He shall build me a house, and I will establish his throne for
17:13. I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son:  and I
will not take my mercy away from him, as I took it from him that was
before thee.
17:14. But I will settle him in my house, and in my kingdom for ever:
and his throne shall be most firm for ever.
17:15. According to all these words, and according to all this vision,
so did Nathan speak to David.
17:16. And king David came and sat before the Lord, and said:  Who am I,
O Lord God, and what is my house, that thou shouldst give such things
17:17. But even this hath seemed little in thy sight, and therefore
thou hast also spoken concerning the house of thy servant for the time
to come:  and hast made me remarkable above all men, O Lord God.
17:18. What can David add more, seeing thou hast thus glorified thy
servant, and known him?
17:19. O Lord, for thy servant's sake, according to thy own heart, thou
hast shewn all this magnificence, and wouldst have all the great things
to be known.
17:20. O Lord there is none like thee:  and here is no other God beside
thee, of all whom we have heard of with our ears.
17:21. For what other nation is there upon earth like thy people
Israel, whom God went to deliver, and make a people for himself, and by
his greatness and terrors cast out nations before their face whom he
had delivered out of Egypt?
17:22. And thou hast made thy people Israel to be thy own people for
ever, and thou, O Lord, art become their God.
17:23. Now therefore, O Lord, let the word which thou hast spoken to
thy servant, and concerning his house, be established for ever, and do
as thou hast said.
17:24. And let thy name remain and be magnified for ever:  and let it be
said:  The Lord of hosts is God of Israel, and the house of David his
servant remaineth before him.
17:25. For thou, O Lord my God, hast revealed to the ear of thy
servant, that thou wilt build him a house:  and therefore thy servant
hath found confidence to pray before thee.
17:26. And now O Lord, thou art God:  and thou hast promised to thy
servant such great benefits.
17:27. And thou hast begun to bless the house of thy servant, that it
may be always before thee:  for seeing thou blessest it, O Lord, it
shall be blessed for ever.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 18
David's victories.  His chief officers.
18:1. And it came to pass after this, that David defeated the
Philistines, and humbled them, and took away Geth, and her daughters
out of the hands of the Philistines,
18:2. And he defeated Moab, and the Moabites were made David's
servants, and brought him gifts.
18:3. At that time David defeated also Adarezer king of Soba of the
land of Hemath, when he went to extend his dominions as far as the
river Euphrates.
18:4. And David took from him a thousand chariots, and seven thousand
horsemen, and twenty thousand footmen, and he houghed all the chariot
horses, only a hundred chariots, which he reserved for himself.
18:5. And the Syrians of Damascus came also to help Adarezer king of
Soba:  and David slew of them likewise two and twenty thousand men.
18:6. And he put a garrison in Damascus, that Syria also should serve
him, and bring gifts.  And the Lord assisted him in all things to which
18:7. And David took the golden quivers which the servants of Adarezer
had, and he brought them to Jerusalem.
18:8. Likewise out of Thebath and Chun, cities of Adarezer, he brought
very much brass, of which Solomon made the brazen sea, and the pillars,
and the vessels of brass.
18:9. Now when Thou king of Hemath heard that David had defeated all
the army of Adarezer king of Soba,
18:10. He sent Adoram his son to king David to desire peace of him, and
to congratulate him that he had defeated and overthrown Adarezer:  for
Thou was an enemy to Adarezer.
18:11. And all the vessels of gold, and silver and brass king David
consecrated to the Lord, with the silver and gold which he had taken
from all the nations, as well from Edom, and from Moab, and from the
sons of Ammon, as from the Philistines, and from Amalec.
18:12. And Abisai the son of Sarvia slew of the Edomites in the vale of
the saltpits, eighteen thousand:
18:13. And he put a garrison in Edom, that Edom should serve David:  and
the Lord preserved David in all things to which he went.
18:14. So David reigned over all Israel, and executed judgment and
justice among all his people.
18:15. And Joab the son of Sarvia was over the army, and Josaphat the
son of Ahilud recorder.
18:16. And Sadoc the son of Achitob, and Achimelech the son of
Abiathar, were the priests:  and Susa, scribe.
18:17. And Banaias the son of Joiada was over the bands of the Cerethi,
and the Phelethi:  and the sons of David were chief about the king.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 19
The Ammonites abuse David's ambassadors:  both they and their
confederates are overthrown.
19:1. Now it came to pass that Naas the king of the children of Ammon
died, and his son reigned in his stead.
19:2. And David said:  I will shew kindness to Hanon the son of Naas:
for his father did a favour tome.  And David sent messengers to comfort
him upon the death of his father.  But when they were come into the land
of the children of Ammon, to comfort Hanon,
19:3. The princes of the children of Ammon said to Hanon:  Thou thinkest
perhaps that David to do honour to thy father hath sent comforters to
thee:  and thou dost not take notice, that his servants are come to thee
to consider, and search, and spy out thy land.
19:4. Wherefore Hanon shaved the heads and beards of the servants of
David, and cut away their garments from the buttocks to the feet, and
sent them away.
19:5. And when they were gone, they sent word to David, who sent to
meet them (for they had suffered a great affront) and ordered them to
stay at Jericho till their beards grew and then to return.
19:6. And when the children of Ammon saw that they had done an injury
to David, Hanon and the rest of the people sent a thousand talents of
silver, to hire them chariots and horsemen out of Mesopotamia and out
of Syria Maacha, and out of Soba.
19:7. And they hired two and thirty thousand chariots, and the king of
Maacha, with his people.  And they came and camped over against Medaba.
And the children of Ammon gathered themselves together out of their
cities, and came to battle.
19:8. And when David heard of it, he sent Joab, and all the army of
valiant men:
19:9. And the children of Ammon came out and put their army in array
before the gate of the city:  and the kings, that were come to their
aid, stood apart in the field.
19:10. Wherefore Joab understanding that the battle was set against him
before and behind, chose out the bravest men of all Israel, and marched
against the Syrians,
19:11. And the rest of the people he delivered into the hand of Abisai
his brother, and they went against the children of Ammon.
19:12. And he said:  If the Syrians be too strong for me, then thou
shalt help me:  but if the children of Ammon be too strong for thee, I
will help thee.
19:13. Be of good courage and let us behave ourselves manfully for our
people, and for the cities of our God:  and the Lord will do that which
is good in his sight.
19:14. So Joab and the people that were with him, went against the
Syrians to the battle:  and he put them to flight.
19:15. And the children of Ammon seeing that the Syrians were fled,
they likewise fled from Abisai his brother, and went into the city:  and
Joab also returned to Jerusalem.
19:16. But the Syrians seeing that they had fallen before Israel, sent
messengers, and brought to them the Syrians that were beyond the river:
and Sophach, general of the army of Adarezer, was their leader.
19:17. And it was told David, and he gathered together all Israel, and
passed the Jordan, and came upon them, and put his army in array
against them, and they fought with him.
19:18. But the Syrian fled before Israel:  and David slew of the Syrians
seven thousand chariots, and forty thousand footmen, and Sophach the
general of the army.
Seven thousand chariots. . .That is, of men who fought in chariots.
19:19. And when the servants of Adarezer saw themselves overcome by
Israel, they went over to David, and served him:  and Syria would not
help the children of Ammon any more.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 20
Rabba is taken.  Other victories over the Philistines.
20:1. And it came to pass after the course of a year, at the time that
kings go out to battle, Joab gathered together an army and the strength
of the troops, and wasted the land of the children of Ammon:  and went
and besieged Rabba.  But David stayed at Jerusalem, when Joab smote
Rabba, and destroyed it.
20:2. And David took the crown of Melchom from his head, and found in
it a talent weight of gold, and most precious stones, and he made
himself a diadem of it:  he took also the spoils of the city which were
20:3. And the people that were therein he brought out:  and made
harrows, and sleds, and chariots of iron to go over them, so that they
were cut and bruised to pieces:  in this manner David dealt with all the
cities of the children of Ammon:  and he returned with all his people to
20:4. After this there arose a war at Gazer against the Philistines:  in
which Sabachai the Husathite slew Saphai of the race of Raphaim, and
humbled them.
20:5. Another battle also was fought against the Philistines, in which
Adeodatus the son of Saltus a Bethlehemite slew the brother of Goliath
the Gethite, the staff of whose spear was like a weaver's beam.
20:6. There was another battle also in Geth, in which there was a man
of great stature, whose fingers and toes were four and twenty, six on
each hand and foot:  who also was born of the stock of Rapha.
20:7. He reviled Israel:  but Jonathan the son of Samaa the brother of
David slew him.  These were the sons of Rapha in Geth, who fell by the
hand of David and his servants.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 21
David's sin in numbering the people is punished by a pestilence:  which
ceaseth upon his offering sacrifice in the thrashingfloor of Ornan.
21:1. And Satan rose up against Israel:  and moved David to number
21:2. And David said to Joab, and to the rulers of the people:  Go, and
number Israel from Bersabee even to Dan, and bring me the number of
them that I may know it.
21:3. And Joab answered:  The Lord make his people a hundred times more
than they are:  but, my lord the king, are they not all thy servants:
why doth my lord seek this thing, which may be imputed as a sin to
21:4. But the king's word rather prevailed:  and Joab departed, and went
through all Israel:  and returned to Jerusalem.
21:5. And he gave David the number of them, whom he had surveyed:  and
all the number of Israel was found to be eleven hundred thousand men
that drew the sword:  and of Juda four hundred and seventy thousand
fighting men.
The number, etc. . .The difference of the numbers here and 2 Kings 24.
is to be accounted for, by supposing the greater number to be that
which was really found, and the lesser to be that which Joab gave in.
21:6. But Levi and Benjamin he did not number:  for Joab unwillingly
executed the king's orders.
21:7. And God was displeased with this thing that was commanded:  and he
struck Israel.
21:8. And David said to God:  I have sinned exceedingly in doing this:  I
beseech thee take away the iniquity of thy servant, for I have done
21:9. And the Lord spoke to Gad the seer of David, saying:
21:10. Go, and speak to David, and tell him:  Thus saith the Lord:  I
give thee the choice of three things:  choose one which thou wilt, and I
will do it to thee.
21:11. And when Gad was come to David, he said to him:  Thus saith the
Lord:  choose which thou wilt:
21:12. Either three years famine:  or three months to flee from thy
enemies, and not to be able to escape their sword:  or three days to
have the sword of the Lord, and pestilence in the land, and the angel
of the Lord destroying in all the coasts of Israel:  now therefore see
what I shall answer him who sent me.
Three years famine. . .Which joined with the three foregoing years of
famine mentioned, 2 Kings 21. and the seventh year of the land's
resting, would make up the seven years proposed by the prophet, 2 Kings
21:13. And David said to Gad:  I am on every side in a great strait:  but
it is better for me to fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercies
are many, than into the hands of men.
21:14. So the Lord sent a pestilence upon Israel.  And there fell of
Israel seventy thousand men.
21:15. And he sent an angel to Jerusalem, to strike it:  and as he was
striking it, the Lord beheld, and took pity for the greatness of the
evil:  and said to the angel that destroyed:  It is enough, now stop thy
hand.  And the angel of the Lord stood by the thrashingfloor of Ornan
the Jebusite.
Ornan. . .Otherwise Areuna.
21:16. And David lifting up his eyes, saw the angel of the Lord
standing between heaven and earth, with a drawn sword in his hand,
turned against Jerusalem:  and both he and the ancients clothed in
haircloth, fell down flat on the ground.
21:17. And David said to God:  Am not I he that commanded the people to
be numbered?  It is I that have sinned:  it is I that have done the evil:
but as for this flock, what hath it deserved?  O Lord my God, let thy
hand be turned, I beseech thee, upon me, and upon my father's house:
and let not thy people be destroyed.
21:18. And the angel of the Lord commanded Gad to tell David, to go up,
and build an altar to the Lord God in the thrashingfloor of Ornan the
21:19. And David went up, according to the word of Gad, which he spoke
to him in the name of the Lord.
21:20. Now when Ornan looked up, and saw the angel, he and his four
sons hid themselves:  for at that time he was thrashing wheat in the
21:21. And as David was coming to Ornan, Ornan saw him, and went out of
the thrashingfloor to meet him, and bowed down to him with his face to
21:22. And David said to him:  Give me this place of thy thrashingfloor,
that I may build therein an altar to the Lord:  but thou shalt take of
me as much money as it is worth, that the plague may cease from the
21:23. And Ornan said to David:  Take it, and let my lord the king do
all that pleaseth him:  and moreover the oxen also I give for a
holocaust, and the drays for wood, and the wheat for the sacrifice:  I
will give it all willingly.
21:24. And king David said to him:  It shall not be so, but I will give
thee money as much as it is worth:  for I must not take it from thee,
and so offer to the Lord holocausts free cost.
21:25. So David gave to Ornan for the place, six hundred sicles of gold
of just weight.
Six hundred sicles, etc. . .This was the price of the whole place, on
which the temple was afterwards built; but the price of the oxen was
fifty sicles of silver.  2 Kings 24.24.
21:26. And he built there an altar to the Lord:  and he offered
holocausts, and peace offerings, and he called upon the Lord, and he
heard him by sending fire from heaven upon the altar of the holocaust.
21:27. And the Lord commanded the angel:  and he put up his sword again
into the sheath.
21:28. And David seeing that the Lord had heard him in the
thrashingfloor of Ornan the Jebusite, forthwith offered victims there.
21:29. But the tabernacle of the Lord, which Moses made in the desert,
and the altar of holocausts, was at that time in the high place of
21:30. And David could not go to the altar there to pray to God:  for he
was seized with an exceeding great fear, seeing the sword of the angel
of the Lord.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 22
David having prepared all necessaries, chargeth Solomon to build the
temple and the princes to assist him.
22:1. Then David said:  This is the house of God, And this is the altar
for the holocaust of Israel.
22:2. And he commanded to gather together all the proselytes of the
land of Israel, and out of them he appointed stonecutters to hew stones
and polish them, to build the house of God.
22:3. And David prepared in abundance iron for the nails of the gates,
and for the closures and joinings:  and of brass an immense weight.
22:4. And the cedar trees were without number, which the Sidonians, and
Tyrians brought to David.
22:5. And David said:  Solomon my son is very young and tender, and the
house which I would have to be built to the Lord, must be such as to be
renowned in all countries:  therefore I will prepare him necessaries.
And therefore before his death he prepared all the charges.
22:6. And he called for Solomon his son:  and commanded him to build a
house to the Lord the God of Israel.
22:7. And David said to Solomon:  My son, it was my desire to have built
a house to the name of the Lord my God.
22:8. But the word of the Lord came to me, saying:  Thou hast shed much
blood, and fought many battles, so thou cannot not build house to my
name, after shedding so much blood before me:
22:9. The son, that shall be born to thee, shall be a most quiet man:
for I will make him rest from all his enemies round about:  and
therefore he shall be called Peaceable:  and I will give peace and
quietness to Israel all his days.
22:10. He shall build a house to my name, and he shall be a son to me,
and I will be a father to him:  and I will establish the throne of his
kingdom over Israel for ever.
22:11. Now then, my son, the Lord be with thee, and do thou prosper,
and build the house to the Lord thy God, as he hath spoken of thee.
22:12. The Lord also give thee wisdom and understanding, that thou
mayest be able to rule Israel, and to keep the law of the Lord thy God.
22:13. For then thou shalt be able to prosper, if thou keep the
commandments, and judgments, which the Lord commanded Moses to teach
Israel:  take courage and act manfully, fear not, nor be dismayed.
22:14. Behold I in my poverty have prepared the charges of the house of
the Lord, of gold a hundred thousand talents, and of silver a million
of talents:  but of brass, and of iron there is no weight, for the
abundance surpasseth all account:  timber also and stones I have
prepared for all the charges.
22:15. Thou hast also workmen in abundance, hewers of stones, and
masons, and carpenters, and of all trades the most skilful in their
22:16. In gold, and in silver, and in brass, and in iron, whereof there
is no number.  Arise then, and be doing, and the Lord will be with thee.
22:17. David also charged all the princes of Israel, to help Solomon
22:18. Saying:  You see, that the Lord your God is with you, and hath
given you rest round about, and hath delivered all your enemies into
your hands, and the land is subdued before the Lord, and before his
22:19. Give therefore your hearts and your souls, to seek the Lord your
God and arise, and build a sanctuary to the Lord God, that the ark of
the covenant of the Lord, and the vessels consecrated to the Lord, may
be brought into the house, which is built to the name of the Lord.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 23
David appointeth Solomon king.  The distribution of the Levites and
their offices.
23:1. David being old and full of days, made Solomon his son king over
23:2. And he gathered together all the princes of Israel, and the
priests and Levites.
23:3. And the Levites were numbered from the age of thirty years, and
upwards:  and there were found of them thirty-eight thousand men.
23:4. Of these twenty-four thousand were chosen, and distributed unto
the ministry of the house of the Lord:  and six thousand were the
overseers and judges.
23:5. Moreover four thousand were porters:  and as many singers singing
to the Lord with the instruments, which he had made to sing with.
23:6. And David distributed them into courses by the families of the
sons of Levi, to wit, of Gerson, and of Caath, and of Merari.
23:7. The sons of Gerson were Leedan and Semei.
23:8. The sons of Leedan:  the chief Jahiel, and Zethan, and Joel,
23:9. The sons of Semei:  Salomith, and Hosiel, and Aran, three:  these
were the heads of the families of Leedan.
23:10. And the sons of Semei were Leheth, and Ziza, and Jaus, and
Baria:  these were the sons of Semei, four.
23:11. And Leheth was the first, Ziza the second:  but Jaus and Baria
had not many children, and therefore they were counted in one family,
and in one house.
23:12. The sons of Caath were Amram, and Isaar, Hebron, and Oziel,
23:13. The sons of Amram, Aaron, and Moses.  And Aaron was separated to
minister in the holy of holies, he and his sons for ever, and to burn
incense before the Lord, according to his ceremonies, and to bless his
name for ever.
23:14. The sons also of Moses, the man of God, were numbered in the
tribe of Levi.
23:15. The sons of Moses were Gersom and Eliezer:
23:16. The sons of Gersom:  Subuel the first.
23:17. And the sons of Eliezer were:  Rohobia the first:  and Eliezer had
no more sons.  But the sons of Rohobia were multiplied exceedingly.
23:18. The sons of Isaar:  Salomith the first.
23:19. The sons of Hebron:  Jeriau the first, Amarias the second,
Jahaziel the third, Jecmaam the fourth.
23:20. The sons of Oziel:  Micha the first, Jesia the second.
23:21. The sons of Merari:  Moholi, and Musi.  The sons of Moholi:
Eleazar and Cis.
23:22. And Eleazar died, and had no sons but daughters:  and the sons of
Cis their brethren took them.
23:23. The sons of Musi:  Moholi, and Eder, and Jerimoth, three.
23:24. These are the sons of Levi in their kindreds and families,
princes by their courses, and the number of every head that did the
works of the ministry of the house of the Lord from twenty years old
23:25. For David said:  The Lord the God of Israel hath given rest to
his people, and a habitation in Jerusalem for ever.
23:26. And it shall not be the office of the Levites to carry any more
the tabernacle, and all the vessels for the service thereof.
23:27. So according to the last precepts of David, the sons of Levi are
to be numbered from twenty years old and upward.
23:28. And they are to be under the hand of the sons of Aaron for the
service of the house of the Lord, in the porches, and in the chambers,
and in the place of purification, and in the sanctuary, and in all the
works of the ministry of the temple of the Lord.
23:29. And the priests have the charge of the loaves of proposition,
and of the sacrifice of fine flour, and of the unleavened cakes, and of
the fryingpan, and of the roasting, and of every weight and measure.
23:30. And the Levites are to stand in the morning to give thanks, and
to sing praises to the Lord:  and in like manner in the evening,
23:31. As well in the oblation of the holocausts of the Lord, as in the
sabbaths and in the new moons, and the rest of the solemnities,
according to the number and ceremonies prescribed for every thing,
continually before the Lord.
23:32. And let them keep the observances of the tabernacle of the
covenant, and the ceremonies of the sanctuary, and the charge of the
sons of Aaron their brethren, that they may minister in the house of
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 24
The divisions of the priests into four and twenty courses, to serve in
the temple:  the chiefs of the Levites.
24:1. Now these were the divisions of the sons of Aaron:  The sons of
Aaron:  Nadab, and Abiu, and Eleazar, and Ithamar.
24:2. But Nadab and Abiu died before their father, and had no children:
so Eleazar, and Ithamar did the office of the priesthood.
24:3. And David distributed them, that is, Sadoc of the sons of
Eleazar, and Ahimelech of the sons of Ithamar, according to their
courses and ministry.
24:4. And there were found many more of the sons of Eleazar among the
principal men, than of the sons of Ithamar.  And he divided them so,
that there were of the sons of Eleazar, sixteen chief men by their
families:  and of the sons of Ithamar eight by their families and
24:5. And he divided both the families one with the other by lot:  for
there were princes of the sanctuary, and princes of God, both of the
sons of Eleazar, and of the sons of Ithamar.
24:6. And Semeias the son of Nathanael the scribe a Levite, wrote them
down before the king and the princes, and Sadoc the priest, and
Ahimelech the son of Abiathar, and the princes also of the priestly and
Levitical families:  one house, which was over the rest, of Eleazar:  and
another house, which had the rest under it, of Ithamar.
24:7. Now the first lot came forth to Joiarib, the second to Jedei,
24:8. The third to Harim, the fourth to Seorim,
24:9. The fifth to Melchia, the sixth to Maiman,
24:10. The seventh to Accos, the eighth to Abia,
24:11. The ninth to Jesua, the tenth to Sechenia,
24:12. The eleventh to Eliasib, the twelfth to Jacim,
24:13. The thirteenth to Hoppha, the fourteenth to Isbaab,
24:14. The fifteenth to Belga, the sixteenth to Emmer,
24:15. The seventeenth to Hezir, the eighteenth to Aphses,
24:16. The nineteenth to Pheteia, the twentieth to Hezechiel,
24:17. The one and twentieth to Jachin, the two and twentieth to Gamul,
24:18. The three and twentieth to Dalaiau, the four and twentieth to
24:19. These are their courses according to their ministries, to come
into the house of the Lord, and according to their manner under the
hand of Aaron their father:  as the Lord the God of Israel had
24:20. Now of the rest of the sons of Levi, there was of the sons of
Amram, Subael:  and of the sons of Subael, Jehedeia.
24:21. Also of the sons of Rohobia the chief Jesias.
24:22. And the son of Isaar Salemoth, and the son of Salemoth Jahath:
24:23. And his son Jeriau the first, Amarias the second, Jahaziel the
third, Jecmaan the fourth.
24:24. The son of Oziel, Micha:  the son of Micha, Samir.
24:25. The brother of Micha, Jesia:  and the son of Jesia, Zacharias.
24:26. The sons of Merari:  Moholi and Musi:  the son of Oziau:  Benno.
24:27. The son also of Merari Oziau, and Soam, and Zacchur, and Hebri.
24:28. And the son of Moholi:  Eleazar, who had no sons.
24:29. And the son of Cis, Jeramael.
24:30. The sons of Musi:  Moholi, Eder, and Jerimoth.  These are the sons
of Levi according to the houses of their families.
24:31. And they also cast lots over against their brethren the sons of
Aaron before David the king, and Sadoc, and Ahimelech, and the princes
of the priestly and Levitical families, both the elder and the younger.
The lot divided all equally.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 25
The number and divisions of the musicians.
25:1. Moreover David and the chief officers of the army separated for
the ministry the sons of Asaph, and of Heman, and of Idithun:  to
prophesy with harps, and with psalteries, and with cymbals according to
their number serving in their appointed office.
25:2. Of the sons of Asaph:  Zacchur, and Joseph, and Nathania, and
Asarela, sons of Asaph:  under the hand of Asaph prophesying near the
25:3. And of Idithun:  the sons of Idithun, Godolias, Sori, Jeseias, and
Hasabias, and Mathathias, under the hand of their father Idithun, who
prophesied with a harp to give thanks and to praise the Lord.
25:4. Of Heman also:  the sons of Heman, Bocciau, Mathaniau, Oziel,
Subuel, and Jerimoth, Hananias, Hanani, Eliatha, Geddelthi, and
Romemthiezer, and Jesbacassa, Mellothi, Othir, Mahazioth:
25:5. All these were the sons of Heman the seer of the king in the
words of God, to lift up the horn:  and God gave to Heman fourteen sons
and three daughters.
25:6. All these under their father's hand were distributed to sing in
the temple of the Lord, with cymbals, and psalteries and harps, for the
service of the house of the Lord near the king:  to wit, Asaph, and
Idithun, and Heman.
25:7. And the number of them with their brethren, that taught the song
of the Lord, all the teachers, were two hundred and eighty-eight.
25:8. And they cast lots by their courses, the elder equally with the
younger, the learned and the unlearned together.
25:9. And the first lot came forth to Joseph, who was of Asaph.  The
second to Godolias, to him and his sons, and his brethren twelve.
25:10. The third to Zachur, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:11. The fourth to Isari, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:12. The fifth to Nathania, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:13. The sixth to Bocciau, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:14. The seventh to Isreela, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:15. The eighth to Jesaia, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:16. The ninth to Mathanaias, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:17. The tenth to Semeias, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:18. The eleventh to Azareel, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:19. The twelfth to Hasabia, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:20. The thirteenth to Subael, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:21. The fourteenth to Mathathias, to his sons and his brethren
25:22. The fifteenth to Jerimoth, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:23. The sixteenth to Hananias, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:24. The seventeenth to Jesbacassa, to his sons and his brethren
25:25. The eighteenth to Hanani, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:26. The nineteenth to Mellothi, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:27. The twentieth to Eliatha, to his sons and his brethren twelve.
25:28. The one and twentieth to Othir, to his sons and his brethren
25:29. The two and twentieth to Geddelthi, to his sons and his brethren
25:30. The three and twentieth to Mahazioth, to his sons and his
brethren twelve.
25:31. The four and twentieth to Romemthiezer, to his sons and his
brethren twelve.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 26
The divisions of the porters.  Offices of other Levites.
26:1. And the divisions of the porters:  of the Corites Meselemia, the
son of Core, of the sons of Asaph.
26:2. The sons of Meselemia:  Zacharias the firstborn, Jadihel the
second, Zabadias the third, Jathanael the fourth,
26:3. Elam the fifth, Johanan the sixth, Elioenai the seventh.
26:4. And the sons of Obededom, Semeias the firstborn, Jozabad the
second, Joaha the third, Sachar the fourth, Nathanael the fifth,
26:5. Ammiel the sixth, Issachar the seventh, Phollathi the eighth:  for
the Lord had blessed him.
26:6. And to Semei his son were born sons, heads of their families:  for
they were men of great valour.
26:7. The sons then of Semeias were Othni, and Raphael, and Obed,
Elizabad, and his brethren most valiant men:  and Eliu, and Samachias.
26:8. All these of the sons of Obededom:  they, and their sons, and
their brethren most able men for service, sixty-two of Obededom.
26:9. And the sons of Meselemia, and their brethren strong men, were
26:10. And of Hosa, that is, of the sons of Merari:  Semri the chief,
(for he had not a firstborn, and therefore his father made him chief.)
He had not a firstborn. . .That is, his firstborn was either dead or not
fit to be chief; and therefore he made Semri the chief.
26:11. Helcias the second, Tabelias the third, Zacharias the fourth:
all these the sons, and the brethren of Hosa, were thirteen.
26:12. Among these were the divisions of the porters, so that the
chiefs of the wards, as well as their brethren, always ministered in
the house of the Lord.
26:13. And they cast lots equally, both little and great, by their
families for every one of the gates.
26:14. And the lot of the east fell to Selemias.  But to his son
Zacharias, a very wise and learned man, the north gate fell by lot.
26:15. And to Obededom and his sons that towards the south:  in which
part of the house was the council of the ancients.
26:16. To Sephim, and Hosa towards the west, by the gate which leadeth
to the way of the ascent:  ward against ward.
26:17. Now towards the east were six Levites:  and towards the north
four a day:  and towards the south likewise four a day:  and where the
council was, two and two.
26:18. In the cells also of the porters toward the west four in the
way:  and two at every cell.
26:19. These are the divisions of the porters of the sons of Core, and
26:20. Now Achias was over the treasures of the house of God, and the
holy vessels.
Holy vessels. . .Or vessels of the holy places, or of things holy.  Vasa
26:21. The sons of Ledan, the sons of Gersonni:  of Ledan were heads of
the families, of Ledan, and Gersonni, Jehieli.
26:22. The sons of Jehieli:  Zathan and Joel, his brethren over the
treasures of the house of the Lord,
26:23. With the Amramites, and Isaarites, and Hebronites, and
26:24. And Subael the son of Gersom, the son of Moses, was chief over
the treasures.
26:25. His brethren also, Eliezer, whose son Rohobia, and his son
Isaias, and his son Joram, and his son Zechri, and his son Selemith.
26:26. Which Selemith and his brethren were over the treasures of the
holy things, which king David, and the heads of families, and the
captains over thousands and over hundreds, and the captains of the host
had dedicated,
26:27. Out of the wars, and the spoils won in battles, which they had
consecrated to the building and furniture of the temple of the Lord.
26:28. And all these things that Samuel the seer and Saul the son of
Cis, and Abner the son of Ner, and Joab the son of Sarvia had
sanctified:  and whosoever had sanctified those things, they were under
the hand of Selemith and his brethren.
26:29. But Chonenias and his sons were over the Isaarites, for the
business abroad over Israel to teach them and judge them.
26:30. And of the Hebronites Hasabias, and his brethren most able men,
a thousand seven hundred had the charge over Israel beyond the Jordan
westward, in all the works of the Lord, and for the service of the
26:31. And the chief of the Hebronites was Jeria according to their
families and kindreds.  In the fortieth year of the reign of David they
were numbered, and there were found most valiant men in Jazer Galaad,
26:32. And his brethren of stronger age, two thousand seven hundred
chiefs of families.  And king David made them rulers over the Rubenites
and the Gadites, and the half tribe of Manasses, for all the service of
God, and the king.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 27
The twelve captains for every month; the twelve princes of the tribes.
David's several officers.
27:1. Now the children of Israel according to their number, the heads
of families, captains of thousands and of hundreds, and officers, that
served the king according to their companies, who came in and went out
every month in the year, under every chief were four and twenty
27:2. Over the first company the first month Jesboam, the son of
Zabdiel was chief, and under him were four and twenty thousand.
27:3. Of the sons of Phares, the chief of all the captains in the host
in the first month.
27:4. The company of the second month was under Dudia, an Ahohite, and
after him was another named Macelloth, who commanded a part of the army
of four and twenty thousand.
27:5. And the captain of the third company for the third month, was
Banaias the son of Joiada the priest:  and in his division were four and
twenty thousand.
27:6. This is that Banaias the most valiant among the thirty, and above
the thirty.  And Amizabad his son commanded his company.
27:7. The fourth, for the fourth month, was Asahel the brother of Joab,
and Zabadias his son after him:  and in his company were four and twenty
27:8. The fifth captain for the fifth month, was Samaoth a Jezerite:
and his company were four and twenty thousand.
27:9. The sixth, for the sixth month, was Hira the son of Acces a
Thecuite:  and in his company were four and twenty thousand.
27:10. The seventh, for the seventh month, was Helles a Phallonite of
the sons of Ephraim:  and in his company were four and twenty thousand.
27:11. The eighth, for the eighth month, was Sobochai a Husathite of
the race of Zarahi:  and in his company were four and twenty thousand.
27:12. The ninth, for the ninth month, was Abiezer an Anathothite of
the sons of Jemini, and in his company were four and twenty thousand.
27:13. The tenth, for the tenth month, was Marai, who was a
Netophathite of the race of Zarai:  and in his company were four and
twenty thousand.
27:14. The eleventh, for the eleventh month, was Banaias, a
Pharathonite of the sons of Ephraim:  and in his company were four and
twenty thousand.
27:15. The twelfth, for the twelfth month, was Holdai a Netophathite,
of the race of Gothoniel:  and in his company were four and twenty
27:16. Now the chiefs over the tribes of Israel were these:  over the
Rubenites, Eliezer the son of Zechri was ruler:  over the Simeonites,
Saphatias the son of Maacha:
27:17. Over the Levites, Hasabias the son of Camuel:  over the
Aaronites, Sadoc:
27:18. Over Juda, Eliu the brother of David over Issachar, Amri the son
27:19. Over the Zabulonites, Jesmaias the son of Adias:  over the
Nephtalites, Jerimoth the son of Ozriel:
27:20. Over the sons of Ephraim, Osee the son of Ozaziu:  over the half
tribe of Manasses, Joel the son of Phadaia:
27:21. And over the half tribe of Manasses in Galaad, Jaddo the son of
Zacharias:  and over Benjamin, Jasiel the son of Abner.
27:22. And over Dan, Ezrihel the son of Jeroham:  these were the princes
of the children of Israel.
27:23. But David would not number them from twenty years old and under:
because the lord had said that he would multiply Israel like the stars
27:24. Joab the son of Sarvia began to number, but he finished not:
because upon this there fell wrath upon Israel:  and therefore the
number of them that were numbered, was not registered in the chronicles
of king David.
27:25. And over the king's treasures was Azmoth the son of Adiel:  and
over those stores which were in the cities, and in the villages, and,
in the castles, was Jonathan the son of Ozias.
27:26. And over the tillage, and the husbandmen, who tilled the ground,
was Ezri the son of Chelub:
27:27. And over the dressers of the vine yards, was Semeias a
Romathite:  and over the wine cellars, Zabdias an Aphonite.
27:28. And over the oliveyards and the fig groves, which were in the
plains, was Balanam a Gederite:  and over the oil cellars, Joas.
27:29. And over the herds that fed in Saron, was Setrai a Saronite:  and
over the oxen in the valleys, Saphat the son of Adli:
27:30. And over the camels, Ubil an Ishmahelite and over the asses,
Jadias a Meronathite:
27:31. And over the sheep Jaziz an Agarene.  All these were the rulers
of the substance of king David.
27:32. And Jonathan David's uncle, a counsellor, a wise and learned
man:  he and Jahiel the son of Hachamoni were with the king's sons.
27:33. And Achitophel was the king's counsellor, and Chusai the
Arachite, the king's friend.
27:34. And after Achitophel was Joiada the son of Banaias, and
Abiathar.  And the general of the king's army was Joab.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 28
David's speech, in a solemn assembly:  his exhortation to Solomon.  He
giveth him a pattern of the temple.
28:1. And David assembled all the chief men of Israel, the princes of
the tribes, and the captains of the companies, who waited on the king:
and the captains over thousands, and over hundreds, and them who had
the charge over the substance and possessions of the king, and his sons
with the officers of the court, and the men of power, and all the
bravest of the army at Jerusalem.
28:2. And the king rising up, and standing said:  Hear me, my brethren
and my people:  I had a thought to have built a house, in which the ark
of the Lord, and the footstool of our God might rest:  and prepared all
things for the building.
28:3. And God said to me:  Thou shalt not build a house to my name:
because thou art a man of war, and hast shed blood.
28:4. But the Lord God of Israel chose me of all the house of my
father, to be king over Israel for ever:  for of Juda he chose the
princes:  and of the house of Juda, my father's house:  and among the
sons of my father, it pleased him to choose me king over all Israel.
28:5. And among my sons (for the Lord hath given me many sons) he hath
chosen Solomon my son, to sit upon the throne of the kingdom of the
Lord over Israel.
28:6. And he said to me:  Solomon thy son shall build my house, and my
courts:  for I have chosen him to be my son, and I will be a father to
28:7. And I will establish his kingdom for ever, it he continue to keep
my commandments, and my judgments, as at this day.
28:8. Now then before all the assembly of Israel, in the hearing of our
God, keep ye, and seek all the commandments of the Lord our God:  that
you may possess the good land, and may leave it to your children after
you for ever.
28:9. And thou my son Solomon, know the God of thy father, and serve
him with a perfect heart, and a willing mind:  for the Lord searcheth
all hearts, and understandeth all the thoughts of minds.  If thou seek
him, thou shalt find him:  but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee
off for ever.
28:10. Now therefore seeing the Lord hath chosen thee to build the
house of the sanctuary, take courage, and do it.
28:11. And David gave to Solomon his son a description of the porch,
and of the temple, and of the treasures, and of the upper floor, and of
the inner chambers, and of the house for the mercy seat,
28:12. As also of all the courts, which he had in his thought, and of
the chambers round about, for the treasures of the house of the Lord,
and for the treasures of the consecrated things,
28:13. And of the divisions of the priests and of the Levites, for all
the works of the house of the Lord, and for all the vessels of the
service of the temple of the Lord.
28:14. Gold by weight for every vessel for the ministry.  And silver by
weight according to the diversity of the vessels and uses.
28:15. He gave also gold for the golden candlesticks, and their lamps,
according to the dimensions of every candlestick, and the lamps
thereof.  In like manner also he gave silver by weight for the silver
candlesticks, and for their lamps according to the diversity of the
dimensions of them.
28:16. He gave also gold for the tables of proposition, according to
the diversity of the tables:  in like manner also silver for other
tables of silver.
28:17. For fleshhooks also, and bowls, and censors of fine gold, and
for little lions of gold, according to the measure he gave by weight,
for every lion.  In like manner also for lions of silver he set aside a
different weight of silver.
28:18. And for the altar of incense, he gave the purest gold:  and to
make the likeness of the chariot of the cherubims spreading their
wings, and covering the ark of the covenant of the Lord.
28:19. All these things, said he, came to me written by the hand of the
Lord that I might understand all the works of the pattern.
28:20. And David said to Solomon his son:  Act like a man, and take
courage, and do:  fear not, and be not dismayed:  for the Lord my God
will be with thee, and will not leave thee, nor forsake thee, till thou
hast finished all the work for the service of the house of the Lord.
28:21. Behold the courses of the priests and the Levites, for every
ministry of the house of the Lord, stand by thee, and are ready, and
both the princes, and the people know how to execute all thy
commandments.
1 Paralipomenon Chapter 29
David by word and example encourageth the princes to contribute
liberally to the building of the temple.  His thanksgiving, prayer, and
sacrifices:  his death.
29:1. And king David said to all the assembly:  Solomon my son, whom
alone God hath chosen, is as yet young and tender:  and the work is
great, for a house is prepared not for man, but for God.
29:2. And I with all my ability have prepared the expenses for the
house of my God.  Gold for vessels of gold, and silver for vessels of
silver, brass for things of brass, iron for things of iron, wood for
things of wood:  and onyx stones, and stones like alabaster, and of
divers colours, and all manner of precious stones, and marble of Paros
in great abundance.
29:3. Now over and above the things which I have offered into the house
of my God I give of my own proper goods, gold and silver for the temple
of my God, beside what things I have prepared for the holy house.
29:4. Three thousand talents of gold of the gold of Ophir:  and seven
thousand talents of refined silver, to overlay the walls of the temple.
29:5. And gold for wheresoever there is need of gold:  and silver for
wheresoever there is need of silver, for the works to be made by the
hands of the artificers:  now if any man is willing to offer, let him
fill his hand to day, and offer what he pleaseth to the Lord.
29:6. Then the heads of the families, and the princes of the tribes of
Israel and the captains of thousands, and of hundreds, and the
overseers of the king's possessions promised,
29:7. And they gave for the works of the house of the Lord, of gold,
five thousand talents, and ten thousand solids:  of silver ten thousand
talents:  and of brass eighteen thousand talents:  and of iron a hundred
thousand talents.
29:8. And all they that had stones, gave them to the treasures of the
house of the Lord, by the hand of Jahiel the Gersonite.
29:9. And the people rejoiced, when they promised their offerings
willingly:  because they offered them to the Lord with all their heart:
and David the king rejoiced also with a great joy.
29:10. And he blessed the Lord before all the multitude, and he said:
Blessed art thou, O Lord the God of Israel, our father from eternity to
29:11. Thine, O Lord, is magnificence, and power, and glory, and
victory:  and to thee is praise:  for all that is in heaven, and in
earth, is thine:  thine is the kingdom, O Lord, and thou art above all
29:12. Thine are riches, and thine is glory, thou hast dominion over
all, in thy hand is power and might:  in thy hand greatness, and the
empire of all things.
29:13. Now therefore our God we give thanks to thee, and we praise thy
glorious name.
29:14. Who am I, and what is my people, that we should be able to
promise thee all these things?  all things are thine:  and we have given
thee what we received of thy hand.
29:15. For we are sojourners before thee, and strangers, as were all
our fathers.  I Our days upon earth are as a shadow, and there is no
29:16. O Lord our God, all this store that we have prepared to build
thee a house for thy holy name, is from thy hand, and all things are
29:17. I know my God that thou provest hearts, and lovest simplicity,
wherefore I also in the simplicity of my heart, have joyfully offered
all these things:  and I have seen with great joy thy people, which are
here present, offer thee their offerings.
29:18. O Lord God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Israel our fathers,
keep for ever this will of their heart, and let this mind remain always
for the worship of thee.
29:19. And give to Solomon my son a perfect heart, that he may keep thy
commandments, thy testimonies, and thy ceremonies, and do all things:
and build the house, for which I have provided the charges.
29:20. And David commanded all the assembly:  Bless ye the Lord our God.
And all the assembly blessed the Lord the God of their fathers:  and
they bowed themselves and worshipped God, and then the king.
29:21. And they sacrificed victims to the Lord:  and they offered
holocausts the next day, a thousand bullocks, a thousand rams, a
thousand lambs, with their libations, and with every thing prescribed
most abundantly for all Israel.
29:22. And they ate, and drank before the Lord that day with great joy.
And they anointed the second time Solomon the son of David.  And they
anointed him to the Lord to be prince, and Sadoc to be high priest.
29:23. And Solomon sat on the throne of the Lord as king instead of
David his father, and he pleased all:  and all Israel obeyed him.
29:24. And all the princes, and men of power, and all the sons of king
David gave their hand, and were subject to Solomon the king.
29:25. And the Lord magnified Solomon over all Israel:  and gave him the
glory of a reign, such as no king of Israel had before him.
29:26. So David the son of Isai reigned over all Israel.
29:27. And the days that he reigned over Israel, were forty years:  in
Hebron he reigned seven years, and in Jerusalem three and thirty years.
29:28. And he died in a good age, full of days, and riches, and glory.
And Solomon his son reigned in his stead.
29:29. Now the acts of king David first and last are written in the
book of Samuel the seer, and in the book of Nathan the prophet, and in
the book of Gad the seer:
29:30. And of all his reign, and his valour, and of the times that
passed under him, either in Israel, or in all the kingdoms of the
THE SECOND BOOK OF PARALIPOMENON
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 1
Solomon offereth sacrifices at Gabaon.  His choice of wisdom which God
1:1. And Solomon the son of David was strengthened in his kingdom, and
the Lord his God was with him, and magnified him to a high degree.
1:2. And Solomon gave orders to all Israel, to the captains of
thousands, and of hundreds, and to the rulers, and to the judges of all
Israel, and the heads of the families:
1:3. And he went with all the multitude to the high place of Gabaon,
where was the tabernacle of the covenant of the Lord, which Moses the
servant of God made, in the wilderness.
1:4. For David had brought the ark of God from Cariathiarim to the
place, which he had prepared for it, and where he had pitched a
tabernacle for it, that is, in Jerusalem.
1:5. And the altar of brass, which Beseleel the son of Uri the son of
Hur had made, was there before the tabernacle of the Lord:  and Solomon
and all the assembly sought it:
1:6. And Solomon went up thither to the brazen altar, before the
tabernacle of the covenant of the Lord, and offered up on it a thousand
1:7. And behold that night God appeared to him, saying:  Ask what thou
wilt that I should give thee.
1:8. And Solomon said to God:  Thou hast shewn great kindness to my
father David:  and hast made me king in his stead.
1:9. Now therefore, O Lord God, let thy word be fulfilled, which thou
hast promised to David my father:  for thou hast made me king over thy
great people, which is as innumerable as the dust of the earth.
1:10. Give me wisdom and knowledge that I may come in and go out before
thy people:  for who can worthily judge this thy people, which is so
1:11. And God said to Solomon:  Because this choice hath pleased thy
heart, and thou hast not asked riches, and wealth, and glory, nor the
lives of them that hate thee, nor many days of life:  but hast asked
wisdom and knowledge, to be able to judge my people, over which I have
made thee king,
1:12. Wisdom and knowledge are granted to thee:  and I will give thee
riches, and wealth, and glory, so that none of the kings before thee,
nor after thee, shall be like thee.
1:13. Then Solomon came from the high place of Gabaon to Jerusalem
before the tabernacle of the covenant, and reigned over Israel.
1:14. And he gathered to himself chariots and horsemen, and he had a
thousand four hundred chariots, and twelve thousand horsemen:  and he
placed them in the cities of the chariots, and with the king in
1:15. And the king made silver and gold to be in Jerusalem as stones,
and cedar trees as sycamores, which grow in the plains in great
1:16. And there were horses brought him from Egypt, and from Coa by the
king's merchants, who went, and bought at a price,
1:17. A chariot of four horses for six hundred pieces of silver, and a
horse for a hundred and fifty:  in like manner market was made in all
the kingdoms of the Hethites, and of the kings of Syria.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 2
Solomon's embassy to Hiram, who sends him a skilful workman and timber.
2:1. And Solomon determined to build a house to the name of the Lord,
and a palace for himself.
2:2. And he numbered out seventy thousand men to bear burdens, and
eighty thousand to hew stones in the mountains, and three thousand six
hundred to oversee them.
2:3. He sent also to Hiram king of Tyre, saying:  As thou didst with
David my father, and didst send him cedars, to build him a house, in
which he dwelt:
2:4. So do with me that I may build a house to the name of the Lord my
God, to dedicate it to burn incense before him, and to perfume with
aromatical spices, and for the continual setting forth of bread, and
for the holocausts, morning and evening, and on the sabbaths, and on
the new moons, and the solemnities of the Lord our God for ever, which
are commanded for Israel.
2:5. For the house which I desire to build, is great:  for our God is
great above all gods.
2:6. Who then can be able to build him a worthy house?  if heaven, and
the heavens of heavens cannot contain him:  who am I that I should be
able to build him a house?  but to this end only, that incense may be
burnt before him.
2:7. Send me therefore a skilful man, that knoweth how to work in gold,
and in silver, in brass, and in iron, in purple, in scarlet and in
blue, and that hath skill in engraving, with the artificers, which I
have with me in Judea and Jerusalem, whom David my father provided.
2:8. Send me also cedars, and fir trees, and pine trees from Libanus:
for I know that thy servants are skilful in cutting timber in Libanus,
and my servants shall be with thy servants,
2:9. To provide me timber in abundance.  For the house which I desire to
build, is to be exceeding great, and glorious.
2:10. And I will give thy servants the workmen that are to cut down the
trees, for their food twenty thousand cores of wheat, and as many cores
of barley, and twenty thousand measures of wine, and twenty thousand
measures of oil.
2:11. And Hiram king of Tyre sent a letter to Solomon, saying:  Because
the Lord hath loved his people, therefore he hath made thee king over
2:12. And he added, saying:  Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel, who
made heaven and earth, who hath given to king David a wise and knowing
son, endued with understanding and prudence, to build a house to the
Lord, and a palace for himself.
2:13. I therefore have sent thee my father Hiram, a wise and most
skilful man,
2:14. The son of a woman of the daughters of Dan, whose father was a
Tyrian, who knoweth how to work in gold, and in silver, in brass, and
in iron, and in marble, and in timber, in purple also, and violet, and
silk and scarlet:  and who knoweth to grave all sort of graving, and to
devise ingeniously all that there may be need of in the work with thy
artificers, and with the artificers of my lord David thy father.
2:15. The wheat therefore, and the barley and the oil, and the wine,
which thou, my lord, hast promised, send to thy servants.
2:16. And we will cut down as many trees out of Libanus, as thou shalt
want, and will convey them in floats by sea to Joppe:  and it will be
thy part to bring them thence to Jerusalem.
2:17. And Solomon numbered all the proselytes in the land of Israel,
after the numbering which David his father had made, and they were
found a hundred and fifty-three thousand and six hundred.
2:18. And he set seventy thousand of them to carry burdens on their
shoulders, and eighty thousand to hew stones in the mountains:  and
three thousand and six hundred to be overseers of the work of the
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 3
The plan and ornaments of the temple:  the cherubims, the veil, and the
3:1. And Solomon began to build the house of the Lord in Jerusalem, in
mount Moria, which had been shewn to David his father, in the place
which David had prepared in the thrashingfloor of Ornan the Jebusite.
3:2. And he began to build in the second month, in the fourth year of
3:3. Now these are the foundations, which Solomon laid, to build the
house of God, the length by the first measure sixty cubits, the breadth
twenty cubits.
3:4. And the porch in the front, which was extended in length according
to the measure of the breadth of the house, twenty cubits:  and the
height was a hundred and twenty cubits:  and he overlaid it within with
3:5. And the greater house he ceiled with deal boards, and overlaid
them with plates of fine gold throughout:  and he graved in them palm
trees, and like little chains interlaced with one another.
3:6. He paved also the floor of the temple with most precious marble,
of great beauty.
3:7. And the gold of the plates with which he overlaid the house, and
the beams thereof, and the posts, and the walls, and the doors was of
the finest:  and he graved cherubims on the walls.
3:8. He made also the house of the holy of holies:  the length of it
according to the breadth of the temple, twenty cubits, and the breadth
of it in like manner twenty cubits:  and he overlaid it with plates of
gold, amounting to about six hundred talents.
3:9. He made also nails of gold, and the weight of every nail was fifty
sicles:  the upper chambers also he overlaid with gold.
3:10. He made also in the house of the holy of holies two cherubims of
image work:  and he overlaid them with gold.
3:11. The wings of the cherubims were extended twenty cubits, so that
one wing was five cubits long, and reached to the wall of the house:
and the other was also five cubits long, and reached to the wing of the
other cherub.
3:12. In like manner the wing of the other cherub, was five cubits
long, and reached to the wall:  and his other wing was five cubits long,
and touched the wing of the other cherub.
3:13. So the wings of the two cherubims were spread forth, and were
extended twenty cubits:  and they stood upright on their feet, and their
faces were turned toward the house without.
3:14. He made also a veil of violet, purple, scarlet, and silk:  and
wrought in it cherubims.
3:15. He made also before the doors of the temple two pillars, which
were five and thirty cubits high:  and their chapiters were five cubits.
3:16. He made also as it were little chains in the oracle, and he put
them on the heads of the pillars:  and a hundred pomegranates, which he
put between the little chains.
3:17. These pillars he put at the entrance of the temple, one on the
right hand, and the other on the left:  that which was on the right
hand, he called Jachin:  and that on the left hand, Booz.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 4
The altar of brass, the molten sea upon twelve oxen, the ten loaves,
the candlesticks and other vessels and ornaments of the temple.
4:1. He made also an altar of brass twenty cubits long, and twenty
cubits broad, and ten cubits high.
4:2. Also a molten sea of ten cubits from brim to brim, round in
compass:  it was five cubits high, and a line of thirty cubits compassed
it round about.
4:3. And under it there was the likeness of oxen, and certain
engravings on the outside of ten cubits compassed the belly of the sea,
as it were with two rows.
4:4. And the oxen were cast:  and the sea itself was set upon the twelve
oxen, three of which looked toward the north, and other three toward
the west:  and other three toward the south, and the other three that
remained toward the east, and the sea stood upon them:  and the hinder
parts of the oxen were inward under the sea.
4:5. Now the thickness of it was a handbreadth, and the brim of it was
like the brim of a cup, or of a crisped lily:  and it held three
thousand measures.
4:6. He made also ten lavers:  and he set five on the right hand, and
five on the left, to wash in them all such things as they were to offer
for holocausts:  but the sea was for the priests to wash in.
4:7. And he made ten golden candlesticks, according to the form which
they were commanded to be made by:  and he set them in the temple, five
on the right hand, and five on the left.
4:8. Moreover also ten tables:  and he set them in the temple, five on
the right side, and five on the left.  Also a hundred bowls of gold.
4:9. He made also the court of the priests, and a great hall, and doors
in the hall, which he covered with brass.
4:10. And he set the sea on the right side over against the east toward
4:11. And Hiram made caldrons, and fleshhooks, and bowls:  and finished
all the king's work the house of God:
4:12. That is to say, the two pillars, and the pommels, and the
chapiters, and the network, to cover the chapiters over the pommels.
4:13. And four hundred pomegranates, and two wreaths of network, so
that two rows of pomegranates were joined to each wreath, to cover the
pommels, and the chapiters of the pillars.
4:14. He made also bases, and lavers, which he set upon the bases:
4:15. One sea, and twelve oxen under the sea;
4:16. And the caldrons, and fleshhooks, and bowls.  All the vessels did
Hiram his father make for Solomon in the house of the Lord of the
finest brass.
4:17. In the country near the Jordan did the king cast them, in a clay
ground between Sochot and Saredatha.
4:18. And the multitude of vessels was innumerable, so that the weight
of the brass was not known.
4:19. And Solomon made all the vessels for the house of God, and the
golden altar, and the tables, upon which were the loaves of
proposition,
4:20. The candlesticks also of most pure gold with their lamps to give
light before the oracle, according to the manner.
4:21. And certain flowers, and lamps, and golden tongs:  all were made
of the finest gold.
4:22. The vessels also for the perfumes, and the censers, and the
bowls, and the mortars, of pure gold.  And he graved the doors of the
inner temple, that is, for the holy of holies:  and the doors of the
temple without were of gold.  And thus all the work was finished which
Solomon made in the house of the Lord.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 5
The ark is brought with great solemnity into the temple:  the temple is
filled with the glory of God.
5:1. Then Solomon brought in all those things that David his father had
vowed, the silver, and the gold, and all the vessels he put among the
treasures of the house of God.
5:2. And after this he gathered together the ancients of Israel and all
the princes of the tribes, and the heads of the families, of the
children of Israel to Jerusalem, to bring the ark of the covenant of
the Lord out of the city of David, which is Sion.
5:3. And all the men of Israel came to the king in the solemn day of
the seventh month.
5:4. And when all the ancients of Israel were come, the Levites took up
5:5. And brought it in, together with all the furniture of the
tabernacle.  And the priests with the Levites carried the vessels of the
sanctuary, which were in the tabernacle.
5:6. And king Solomon and all the assembly of Israel and all that were
gathered together before the ark, sacrificed rams, and oxen without
number:  so great was the multitude of the victims.
5:7. And the priests brought in the ark of the covenant of the Lord
into its place, that is, to the oracle of the temple, into the holy of
holies under the wings of the cherubims:
5:8. So that the cherubims spread their wings over the place, in which
the ark was set, and covered the ark itself and its staves.
5:9. Now the ends of the staves wherewith the ark was carried, because
they were some thing longer, were seen before the oracle:  but if a man
were a little outward, he could not see them.  So the ark has been there
unto this day.
5:10. And there was nothing else in the ark but the two tables which
Moses put there at Horeb when the Lord gave the law to the children of
Israel, at their coming out of Egypt.
5:11. Now when the priests were come out of the sanctuary, for all the
priests that could be found there, were sanctified:  and as yet at that
time the courses and orders of the ministries were not divided among
5:12. Both the Levites and the singing men, that is, both they that
were under Asaph, and they that were under Heman, and they that were
under Idithun, with their sons, and their brethren, clothed with fine
linen, sounded with cymbals, and psalteries, and harps, standing on the
east side of the altar, and with them a hundred and twenty priests,
sounding with trumpets.
5:13. So when they all sounded together, both with trumpets, and voice,
and cymbals, and organs, and with divers kind of musical instruments,
and lifted up their voice on high:  the sound was heard afar off, so
that when they began to praise the Lord, and to say:  Give glory to the
Lord for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever:  the house of God
was filled with a cloud.
5:14. Nor could the priests stand and minister by reason of the cloud.
For the glory of the Lord had filled the house of God.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 6
Solomon's blessings and prayer.
6:1. Then Solomon said:  The Lord promised that he would dwell in a
6:2. But I have built a house to his name, that he might dwell there
6:3. And the king turned his face, and blessed all the multitude of
Israel for all the multitude stood attentive and he said:
6:4. Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel, who hath accomplished in
deed that which he spoke to David my father, saying:
6:5. From the day that I brought my people out of the land of Egypt, I
chose no city among all the tribes of Israel, for a house to be built
in it to my name:  neither chose I any other man, to be the ruler of my
people Israel.
6:6. But I chose Jerusalem, that my name might be there:  and I chose
David to set him over my people Israel.
6:7. And whereas David my father had a mind to build a house to the
name of the Lord the God of Israel,
6:8. The Lord said to him:  Forasmuch as it was thy will to build a
house to my name, thou hast done well indeed in having such a will:
6:9. But thou shalt not build the house, but thy son, who shall come
out of thy loins, he shall build a house to my name.
6:10. The Lord therefore hath accomplished his word which he spoke:  and
I am risen up in the place of David my father, and sit upon the throne
of Israel, as the Lord promised:  and have built a house to the name of
the Lord God of Israel.
6:11. And I have put in it the ark, wherein is the covenant of the
Lord, which he made with the children of Israel.
6:12. And he stood before the altar of the Lord, in presence of all the
multitude of Israel, and stretched forth his hands.
6:13. For Solomon had made a brazen scaffold, and had set it in the
midst of the temple, which was five cubits long, and five cubits broad,
and three cubits high:  and he stood upon it:  then kneeling down in the
presence of all the multitude of Israel, and lifting up his hands
towards heaven,
6:14. He said:  O Lord God of Israel, there is no God like thee in
heaven nor in earth:  who keepest covenant and mercy with thy servants,
that walk before thee with all their hearts:
6:15. Who hast performed to thy servant David my father all that thou
hast promised him:  and hast accomplished in fact, what thou hast spoken
with thy mouth, as also the present time proveth.
6:16. Now then, O Lord God of Israel, fulfil to thy servant David my
father, whatsoever thou hast promised him, saying:  There shall not fail
thee a man in my sight, to sit upon the throne of Israel:  yet so that
thy children take heed to their ways, and walk in my law, as thou hast
walked before me.
6:17. And now, Lord God of Israel, let thy word be established which
thou hast spoken to thy servant David.
6:18. Is it credible then that God should dwell with men on the earth?
If heaven and the heavens of heavens do not contain thee, how much less
this house, which I have built?
6:19. But to this end only it is made, that thou mayest regard the
prayer of thy servant and his supplication, O Lord my God:  and mayest
hear the prayers which thy servant poureth out before thee.
6:20. That thou mayest open thy eyes upon this house day and night,
upon the place wherein thou hast promised that thy name should be
called upon,
6:21. And that thou wouldst hear the prayer which thy servant prayeth
in it:  hearken then to the prayers of thy servant, and of thy people
Israel.  Whosoever shall pray in its place, hear thou from thy dwelling
place, that is, from heaven, and shew mercy.
6:22. If any man sin against his neighbour, and come to swear against
him, and bind himself with a curse before the altar in this house:
6:23. Then hear thou from heaven, and do justice to thy servants, so to
requite the wicked by making his wickedness fall upon his own head, and
to revenge the just, rewarding him according to his justice.
6:24. If thy people Israel be overcome by their enemies, (for they will
sin against thee,) and being converted shall do penance, and call upon
thy name, and pray to thee in this place,
6:25. Then hear thou from heaven, and forgive the sin of thy people
Israel and bring them back into the land which thou gavest to them, and
their fathers.
6:26. If the heavens be shut up, and there fall no rain by reason of
the sin of the people, and they shall pray to thee in this place, and
confess to thy name, and be converted from their sins, where thou dost
afflict them,
6:27. Then hear thou from heaven, O Lord, and forgive the sins of thy
servants and of thy people Israel and teach them the good way in which
they may walk:  and give rain to thy land which thou hast given to thy
people to possess.
6:28. If a famine arise in the land, or a pestilence or blasting, or
mildew, or locusts, or caterpillars:  or if their enemies waste the
country, and besiege the cities, whatsoever scourge or infirmity shall
be upon them:
6:29. Then if any of thy people Israel, knowing his own scourge and
infirmity shall pray, and shall spread forth his hands in this house,
6:30. Hear thou from heaven, from thy high dwelling place, and forgive,
and render to every one according to his ways, which thou knowest him
to have in his heart:  for thou only knowest the hearts of the children
6:31. That they may fear thee, and walk in thy ways all the days that
they live upon the face of the land, which thou hast given to our
6:32. If the stranger also, who is not of thy people Israel, come from
a far country, for the sake of thy great name, and thy strong hand, and
thy stretched out arm, and adore in this place:
6:33. Hear thou from heaven thy firm dwelling place, and do all that
which that stranger shall call upon thee for:  that all the people of
the earth may know thy name, and may fear thee, as thy people Israel,
and may know, that thy name is invoked upon this house, which I have
6:34. If thy people go out to war against their enemies, by the way
that thou shalt send them, and adore thee towards the way of this city,
which thou hast chosen, and the house which I have built to thy name:
6:35. Then hear thou from heaven their prayers, and their
supplications, and revenge them.
6:36. And if they sin against thee (for there is no man that sinneth
not) and thou be angry with them, and deliver them up to their enemies,
and they lead them away captive to a land either afar off, or near at
6:37. And if they be converted in their heart in the land to which they
were led captive, and do penance, and pray to thee in the land of their
captivity saying:  We have sinned, we have done wickedly, we have dealt
6:38. And return to thee with all their heart, and with all their soul,
in the land of their captivity, to which they were led away, and adore
thee towards the way of their own land which thou gavest their fathers,
and of the city, which thou hast chosen, and the house which I have
built to thy name:
6:39. Then hear thou from heaven, that is, from thy firm dwelling
place, their prayers, and do judgment, and forgive thy people, although
they have sinned:
6:40. For thou art my God:  let thy eyes, I beseech thee, be open, and
let thy ears be attentive to the prayer, that is made in this place.
6:41. Now therefore arise, O Lord God, into thy resting place, thou and
the ark of thy strength:  let thy priests, O Lord God, put on salvation,
and thy saints rejoice in good things.
6:42. O Lord God, turn not away the face of thy anointed:  remember the
mercies of David thy servant.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 7
Fire from heaven consumeth the sacrifices.  The solemnity of the
dedication of the temple.  God signifieth his having heard Solomon's
prayer:  yet so if he continue to serve him.
7:1. And when Solomon had made an end of his prayer, fire came down
from heaven, and consumed the holocausts and the victims:  and the
majesty of the Lord filled the house.
7:2. Neither could the priests enter into the temple of the Lord,
because the majesty of the Lord had filled the temple of the Lord.
7:3. Moreover all the children of Israel saw the fire coming down, and
the glory of the Lord upon the house:  and falling down with their faces
to the ground, upon the stone pavement, they adored and praised the
Lord:  because he is good, because his mercy endureth for ever.
7:4. And the king and all the people sacrificed victims before the
7:5. And king Solomon offered a sacrifice of twenty-two thousand oxen,
and one hundred and twenty thousand rams:  and the king and all the
people dedicated the house of God.
7:6. And the priests stood in their offices:  and the Levites with the
instruments of music of the Lord, which king David made to praise the
Lord:  because his mercy endureth for ever, singing the hymns of David
by their ministry:  and the priests sounded with trumpets before them,
and all Israel stood.
7:7. Solomon also sanctified the middle of the court before the temple
of the Lord:  for he offered there the holocausts, and the fat of the
peace offerings:  because the brazen altar, which he had made, could not
hold the holocausts and the sacrifices and the fat:
7:8. And Solomon kept the solemnity at that time seven days, and all
Israel with him, a very great congregation, from the entrance of Emath
to the torrent of Egypt.
7:9. And he made on the eighth day a solemn assembly, because he had
kept the dedication of the altar seven days, and had celebrated the
solemnity seven days.
7:10. So on the three and twentieth day of the seventh month he sent
away the people to their dwellings, joyful and glad for the good that
the Lord had done to David, and to Solomon, and to all Israel his
7:11. And Solomon finished the house of the Lord, and the king's house,
and all that he had designed in his heart to do, in the house of the
Lord, and in his own house, and he prospered.
7:12. And the Lord appeared to him by night, and said:  I have heard thy
prayer, and I have chosen this place to myself for a house of
7:13. If I shut up heaven, and there fall no rain, or if I give orders,
and command the locust to devour the land, or if I send pestilence
among my people:
7:14. And my people, upon whom my name is called, being converted,
shall make supplication to me, and seek out my face, and do penance for
their most wicked ways:  then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive
their sins and will heal their land.
7:15. My eyes also shall be open, and my ears attentive to the prayer
of him that shall pray in this place.
7:16. For I have chosen, and have sanctified this place, that my name
may be there for ever, and my eyes and my heart may remain there
perpetually.
7:17. And as for thee, if thou walk before me, as David thy father
walked, and do according to all that I have commanded thee, and keep my
justices and my judgments:
7:18. I will raise up the throne of thy kingdom, as I promised to David
thy father, saying:  There shall not fail thee a man of thy stock to be
ruler in Israel.
7:19. But if you turn away, and forsake my justices, and my
commandments which I have set before you, and shall go and serve
strange gods, and adore them,
7:20. I will pluck you up by the root out of my land which I have given
you:  and this house which I have sanctified to my name, I will cast
away from before my face, and will make it a byword, and an example
among all nations.
7:21. And this house shall be for a proverb to all that pass by, and
they shall be astonished and say:  Why hath the Lord done thus to this
land, and to this house?
7:22. And they shall answer:  Because they forsook the Lord the God of
their fathers, who brought them out of the land of Egypt, and laid hold
on strange gods, and adored them, and worshipped them:  therefore all
these evils are come upon them.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 8
Solomon's buildings and other acts.
8:1. And at the end of twenty years after Solomon had built the house
of the Lord and his own house:
8:2. He built the cities which Hiram had given to Solomon, and caused
the children of Israel to dwell there.
8:3. He went also into Emath Suba, and possessed it.
8:4. And he built Palmira in the desert, and he built other strong
cities in Emath.
8:5. And he built Beth-horon the upper, and Beth-horon the nether,
walled cities with gates and bars and locks.
8:6. Balaath also and all the strong cities that were Solomon's, and
all the cities of the chariots, and the cities of the horsemen.  All
that Solomon had a mind, and designed, he built in Jerusalem and in
Libanus, and in all the land of his dominion.
8:7. All the people that were left of the Hethites, and the Amorrhites,
and the Pherezites, and the Hevites, and the Jebusites, that were not
of the stock of Israel:
8:8. Of their children, and of the posterity, whom the children of
Israel had not slain, Solomon made to be the tributaries, unto this
8:9. But of the children of Israel he set none to serve in the king's
works:  for they were men of war, and chief captains, and rulers of his
chariots and horsemen.
8:10. And all the chief captains of king Solomon's army were two
hundred and fifty, who taught the people.
8:11. And he removed the daughter of Pharao from the city of David, to
the house which he had built for her.  For the king said:  My wife shall
not dwell in the house of David king of Israel, for it is sanctified:
because the ark of the Lord came into it.
8:12. Then Solomon offered holocausts to the Lord upon the altar of the
Lord which he had built before the porch,
8:13. That every day an offering might be made on it according to the
ordinance of Moses, in the sabbaths, and on the new moons, and on the
festival days three times a year, that is to say, in the feast of
unleavened bread, and in the feast of weeks, and in the feast of
tabernacles.
8:14. And he appointed according to the order of David his father the
offices of the priests in their ministries:  and the Levites in their
order to give praise, and minister before the priests according to the
duty of every day:  and the porters in their divisions by gate and gate:
for so David the man of God had commanded.
8:15. And the priests and Levites departed not from the king's
commandments, as to any thing that he had commanded, and as to the
keeping of the treasures.
8:16. Solomon had all charges prepared, from the day that he founded
the house of the Lord, until the day wherein he finished it.
8:17. Then Solomon went to Asiongaber, and to Ailath, on the coast of
the Red Sea, which is in the land of Edom.
8:18. And Hiram sent him ships by the hands of his servants, and
skilful mariners, and they went with Solomon's servants to Ophir, and
they took thence four hundred and fifty talents of gold, and brought it
to king Solomon.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 9
The queen of Saba admireth the wisdom of Solomon.  His riches and glory.
9:1. And when the queen of Saba heard of the fame of Solomon, she came
to try him with hard questions at Jerusalem, with great riches, and
camels, which carried spices, and abundance of gold, and precious
stones.  And when she was come to Solomon, she proposed to him all that
was in her heart.
9:2. And Solomon explained to her all that she proposed:  and there was
not any thing that he did not make clear unto her.
9:3. And when she had seen these things, to wit, the wisdom of Solomon,
and the house which he had built,
9:4. And the meats of his table, and the dwelling places of his
servants, and the attendance of his officers, and their apparel, his
cupbearers also, and their garments, and the victims which he offered
in the house of the Lord:  there was no more spirit in her, she was so
9:5. And she said to the king:  The word is true which I heard in my
country of thy virtues and wisdom.
9:6. I did not believe them that told it, until I came, and my eyes had
seen, and I had proved that scarce one half of thy wisdom had been told
me:  thou hast exceeded the same with thy virtues.
9:7. Happy are thy men, and happy are thy servants, who stand always
before thee, and hear thy wisdom.
9:8. Blessed be the Lord thy God, who hath been pleased to set thee on
his throne, king of the Lord thy God.  Because God loveth Israel, and
will preserve them forever:  therefore hath he made thee king over them,
to do judgment and justice.
9:9. And she gave to the king a hundred and twenty talents of gold, and
spices in great abundance, and most precious stones:  there were no such
spices as these which the queen of Saba gave to king Solomon.
9:10. And the servants also of Hiram, with the servants of Solomon,
brought gold from Ophir, and thyine trees, and most precious stones:
9:11. And the king made of the thyine trees stairs in the house of the
Lord, and in the king's house, and harps and psalteries for the singing
men:  never were there seen such trees in the land of Juda.
9:12. And king Solomon gave to the queen of Saba all that she desired,
and that she asked, and many more things than she brought to him:  so
she returned, and went to her own country with her servants.
9:13. And the weight of the gold, that was brought to Solomon every
year, was six hundred and sixty-six talents of gold:
9:14. Beside the sum which the deputies of divers nations, and the
merchants were accustomed to bring, and all the kings of Arabia, and
the lords of the lands, who brought gold and silver to Solomon.
9:15. And king Solomon made two hundred golden spears, of the sum of
six hundred pieces of gold, which went to every spear:
9:16. And three hundred golden shields of three hundred pieces of gold,
which went to the covering of every shield:  and the king put them in
the armoury, which was compassed with a wood.
9:17. The king also made a great throne of ivory, and overlaid it with
9:18. And six steps to go up to the throne, and a footstool of gold,
and two arms one on either side, and two lions standing by the arms:
9:19. Moreover twelve other little lions standing upon the steps on
both sides:  there was not such a throne in any kingdom.
9:20. And all the vessels of the king's table were of gold, and the
vessels of the house of the forest of Libanus were of the purest gold.
For no account was made of silver in those days.
9:21. For the king's ships went to Tharsis with the servants of Hiram,
once in three years:  and they brought thence gold and silver, and
ivory, and apes, and peacocks.
9:22. And Solomon was magnified above all the kings of the earth for
riches and glory.
9:23. And all the kings of the earth desired to see the face of
Solomon, that they might hear the wisdom which God had given in his
9:24. And every year they brought him presents, vessels of silver and
of gold, and garments, and armour, and spices, and horses, and mules.
9:25. And Solomon had forty thousand horses in the stables, and twelve
thousand chariots, and horsemen, and he placed them in the cities of
the chariots and where the king was in Jerusalem.
9:26. And he exercised authority over all the kings from the river
Euphrates to the land of the Philistines, and to the borders of Egypt.
9:27. And he made silver as plentiful in Jerusalem as stones:  and
cedars as common as the sycamores, which grow in the plains.
9:28. And horses were brought to him out of Egypt, and out of all
9:29. Now the rest of the acts of Solomon first and last are written in
the words of Nathan the prophet, and in the books of Ahias the
Silonite, and in the vision of Addo the seer, against Jeroboam the son
9:30. And Solomon reigned in Jerusalem over all Israel forty years.
9:31. And he slept with his fathers:  and they buried him in the city of
David:  and Roboam his son reigned in his stead.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 10
Roboam answereth the people roughly:  upon which ten tribes revolt.
10:1. And Roboam went to Sichem:  for thither all Israel were assembled,
to make him king.
10:2. And when Jeroboam the son of Nabat, who was in Egypt, (for he was
fled thither from Solomon,) heard it, forthwith he returned.
10:3. And they sent for him, and he came with all Israel, and they
spoke to Roboam, saying:
10:4. Thy father oppressed with a most grievous yoke, do thou govern us
with a lighter hand than thy father, who laid upon us a heavy
servitude, and ease some thing of the burden, that we may serve thee.
10:5. And he said to them:  Come to me again after three days.  And when
the people were gone,
10:6. He took counsel with the ancients, who had stood before his
father Solomon, while he yet lived, saying:  What counsel give you to
me, that I may answer the people?
10:7. And they said to him:  If thou please this people, and soothe them
with kind words, they will be thy servants for ever.
10:8. But he forsook the counsel of the ancients, and began to treat
with the young men, that had been brought up with him, and were in his
10:9. And he said to them:  What seemeth good to you?  or what shall I
answer this people, who have said to me:  Ease the yoke which thy father
laid upon us?
10:10. But they answered as young men, and brought up with him in
pleasures, and said:  Thus shalt thou speak to the people, that said to
thee:  Thy father made our yoke heavy, do thou ease it:  thus shalt thou
answer them:  My little finger is thicker than the loins of my father.
10:11. My father laid upon you a heavy yoke, and I will add more weight
to it:  my father beat you with scourges, but I will beat you with
10:12. So Jeroboam, and all the people came to Roboam the third day, as
he commanded them.
10:13. And the king answered roughly, leaving the counsel of the
10:14. And he spoke according to the advice of the young men:  My father
laid upon you a heavy yoke, which I will make heavier:  my father beat
you with scourges, but I will beat you with scorpions.
10:15. And he condescended not to the people's requests:  for it was the
will of God, that his word might be fulfilled which he had spoken by
the hand of Ahias the Silonite to Jeroboam the son of Nabat.
10:16. And all the people upon the king's speaking roughly, said thus
unto him:  We have no part in David, nor inheritance in the son of Isai.
Return to thy dwellings, O Israel, and do thou, O David feed thy own
house.  And Israel went away to their dwellings.
10:17. But Roboam reigned over the children of Israel that dwelt in the
cities of Juda.
10:18. And king Roboam sent Aduram, who was over the tributes, and the
children of Israel stoned him, and he died:  and king Roboam made haste
to get up into his chariot, and fled into Jerusalem.
10:19. And Israel revolted from the house of David unto this day.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 11
Roboam's reign.  His kingdom is strengthened.
11:1. And Roboam came to Jerusalem, and called together all the house
of Juda and of Benjamin, a hundred and fourscore thousand chosen men
and warriors, to fight against Israel, and to bring back his kingdom to
11:2. And the word of the Lord came to Semeias the man of God, saying:
11:3. Speak to Roboam the son of Solomon the king of Juda, and to all
Israel, in Juda and Benjamin:
11:4. Thus saith the Lord:  You shall not go up, nor fight against your
brethren:  let every man return to his own house, for by my will this
thing has been done.  And when they heard the word of the Lord, they
returned, and did not go against Jeroboam,
11:5. And Roboam dwelt in Jerusalem, and built walled cities in Juda.
11:6. And he built Bethlehem, and Etam, and Thecue,
11:7. And Bethsur, and Socho, and Odollam,
11:8. And Geth, and Maresa, and Ziph,
11:9. And Aduram, and Lachis, and Azecha,
11:10. Saraa also, and Aialon, and Hebron, which are in Juda and
Benjamin, well fenced cities.
11:11. And when he had enclosed them with walls, he put in them
governors and storehouses of provisions, that is, of oil and of wine.
11:12. Moreover in every city he made an armoury of shields and spears,
and he fortified them with great diligence, and he reigned over Juda,
and Benjamin,
11:13. And the priests and Levites, that were in all Israel, came to
him out of all their seats,
11:14. Leaving their suburbs, and their possessions, and passing over
to Juda, and Jerusalem, because Jeroboam and his sons had cast them
off, from executing the priestly office to the Lord.
11:15. And he made to himself priests for the high places, and for the
devils, and for the calves which he had made.
11:16. Moreover out of all the tribes of Israel, whosoever gave their
heart to seek the Lord the God of Israel, came into Jerusalem to
sacrifice their victims before the Lord the God of their fathers.
11:17. And they strengthened the kingdom of Juda, and established
Roboam the son of Solomon for three years:  for they walked in the ways
of David and of Solomon, only three years.
11:18. And Roboam took to wife Mahalath, the daughter of Jerimoth the
son of David:  and Abihail the daughter of Eliab the son of Isai.
11:19. And they bore him sons Jehus, and Somorias, and Zoom.
11:20. And after her he married Maacha the daughter of Absalom, who
bore him Abia, and Ethai, and Ziza, and Salomith.
11:21. And Roboam loved Maacha the daughter of Absalom above all his
wives and concubines:  for he had married eighteen wives, and threescore
concubines:  and he begot eight and twenty sons, and threescore
11:22. But he put at the head of them Abia the son of Maacha to be the
chief ruler over all his brethren:  for he meant to make him king,
11:23. Because he was wiser and mightier than all his sons, and in all
the countries of Juda, and of Benjamin, and in all the walled cities:
and he gave them provisions in abundance, and he sought many wives.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 12
Roboam for his sins is delivered up into the hands of the king of
Egypt:  who carrieth away all the treasures of the temple.
12:1. And when the kingdom of Roboam was strengthened and fortified, he
forsook the law of the Lord, and all Israel with him.
12:2. And in the fifth year of the reign of Roboam, Sesac king of Egypt
came up against Jerusalem (because they had sinned against the Lord)
12:3. With twelve hundred chariots and threescore thousand horsemen:
and the people were without number that came with him out of Egypt, to
wit, Libyans, and Troglodites, and Ethiopians.
12:4. And he took the strongest cities in Juda, and came to Jerusalem.
12:5. And Semeias the prophet came to Roboam, and to the princes of
Juda, that were gathered together in Jerusalem, fleeing from Sesac, and
he said to them:  Thus saith the Lord:  You have left me, and I have left
you in the hand of Sesac.
12:6. And the princes of Israel, and the king, being in a
consternation, said:  The Lord is just.
12:7. And when the Lord saw that they were humbled, the word of the
Lord came to Semeias, saying:  Because they are humbled, I will not
destroy them, and I will give them a little help, and my wrath shall
not fall upon Jerusalem by the hand of Sesac.
12:8. But yet they shall serve him, that they may know the difference
between my service, and the service of a kingdom of the earth.
12:9. So Sesac king of Egypt departed from Jerusalem, taking away the
treasures of the king's house, and he took all with him, and the golden
shields that Solomon had made,
12:10. Instead of which the king made brazen ones, and delivered them
to the captains of the shieldbearers, who guarded the entrance of the
12:11. And when the king entered into the house of the Lord, the
shieldbearers came and took them, and brought them back again to their
12:12. But yet because they were humbled, the wrath of the Lord turned
away from them, and they were not utterly destroyed:  for even in Juda
there were found good works.
12:13. King Roboam therefore was strengthened in Jerusalem, and
reigned:  he was one and forty years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned seventeen years in Jerusalem, the city which the Lord chose out
of all the tribes of Israel, to establish his name there:  and the name
of his mother was Naama an Ammonitess.
12:14. But he did evil, and did not prepare his heart to seek the Lord.
12:15. Now the acts of Roboam first and last are written in the books
of Semeias the prophet, and of Addo the seer, and diligently recorded:
and there was war between Roboam and Jeroboam all their days.
12:16. And Roboam slept with his fathers, and was buried in the city of
David.  And Abia his son reigned in his stead.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 13
Abia's reign:  his victory over Jeroboam.
13:1. In the eighteenth year of king Jeroboam, Abia reigned over Juda.
13:2. Three years he reigned in Jerusalem, and his mother's name was
Michaia, the daughter of Uriel of Gabaa:  and there was war between Abia
and Jeroboam.
Michaia. . .Alias Maacha.  Her father had also two names, viz., Absalom,
or Abessalom, and Uriel.
13:3. And when Abia had begun battle, and had with him four hundred
thousand most valiant and chosen men, Jeroboam put his army in array
against him, eight hundred thousand men, who were also chosen and most
valiant for war.
13:4. And Abia stood upon mount Semeron, which was in Ephraim, and
said:  Hear me, O Jeroboam, and all Israel:
13:5. Do you not know that the Lord God of Israel gave to David the
kingdom over Israel for ever, to him and to his sons by a covenant of
A covenant of salt. . .That is, a firm and perpetual covenant.  See Num.
13:6. And Jeroboam the son of Nabat, the servant of Solomon the son of
David, rose up:  and rebelled against his lord.
13:7. And there were gathered to him vain men, and children of Belial:
and they prevailed against Roboam the son of Solomon:  for Roboam was
unexperienced, and of a fearful heart, and could not resist them.
13:8. And now you say that you are able to withstand the kingdom of the
Lord, which he possesseth by the sons of David, and you have a great
multitude of people, and golden calves, which Jeroboam hath made you
13:9. And you have cast out the priests of the Lord, the sons of Aaron,
and the Levites:  and you have made you priests, like all the nations of
the earth:  whosoever cometh and consecrateth his hand with a bullock of
the herd, and with seven rams, is made a priest of those who are no
13:10. But the Lord is our God, whom we forsake not, and the priests
who minister to the Lord are the sons of Aaron, and the Levites are in
their order.
13:11. And they offer holocausts to the Lord, every day, morning and
evening, and incense made according to the ordinance of the law, and
the loaves are set forth on a most clean table, and there is with us
the golden candlestick, and the lamps thereof, to be lighted always in
the evening:  for we keep the precepts of the Lord our God, whom you
have forsaken.
13:12. Therefore God is the leader in our army, and his priests who
sound with trumpets, and resound against you:  O children of Israel,
fight not against the Lord the God of your fathers, for it is not good
13:13. While he spoke these things, Jeroboam caused an ambushment to
come about behind him.  And while he stood facing the enemies, he
encompassed Juda, who perceived it not, with his army.
13:14. And when Juda looked back, they saw the battle coming upon them
both before and behind, and they cried to the Lord:  and the priests
began to sound with the trumpets.
13:15. And all the men of Juda shouted:  and behold when they shouted,
God terrified Jeroboam, and all Israel that stood against Abia and
13:16. And the children of Israel fled before Juda, and the Lord
delivered them into their hand.
13:17. And Abia and his people slew them with a great slaughter, and
there fell wounded of Israel five hundred thousand valiant men.
13:18. And the children of Israel were brought down, at that time, and
the children of Juda were exceedingly strengthened, because they had
trusted in the Lord the God of their fathers.
13:19. And Abia pursued after Jeroboam, and took cities from him,
Bethel and her daughters, and Jesana with her daughters, Ephron also
and her daughters.
13:20. And Jeroboam was not able to resist any more, in the days of
Abia:  and the Lord struck him, and he died.
13:21. But Abia, being strengthened in his kingdom, took fourteen
wives:  and begot two and twenty sons, and sixteen daughters.
13:22. And the rest of the acts of Abia, and of his ways and works, are
written diligently in the book of Addo the prophet.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 14
The reign of Asa:  his victory over the Ethiopians.
14:1. And Abia slept with his fathers, and they buried him in the city
of David:  an Asa his son reigned in his stead:  in his days the land was
quiet ten years.
14:2. And Asa did that which was good and pleasing in the sight of his
God, and he destroyed the altars of foreign worship, and the high
14:3. And broke the statues, and cut down the groves.
14:4. And he commanded Juda to seek the Lord the God of their fathers,
and to do the law, and all the commandments.
14:5. And he took away out of all the cities of Juda the altars, and
temples, and reigned in peace.
14:6. He built also strong cities in Juda, for he was quiet, and there
had no wars risen in his time, the Lord giving peace.
14:7. And he said to Juda:  Let us build these cities, and compass them
with walls, and fortify them with towers, and gates, and bars, while
all is quiet from wars, because we have sought the Lord the God of our
fathers, and he hath given us peace round about.  So they built, and
there was no hinderance in building.
14:8. And Asa had in his army of men that bore shields and spears of
Juda three hundred thousand, and of Benjamin that bore shields and drew
bows, two hundred and eighty thousand, all these were most valiant men.
14:9. And Zara the Ethiopian came out against them with his army of ten
hundred thousand men, and with three hundred chariots:  and he came as
far as Maresa.
14:10. And Asa went out to meet him, and set his army in array for
battle in the vale of Sephata, which is near Maresa:
14:11. And he called upon the Lord God, and said:  Lord, there is no
difference with thee, whether thou help with few, or with many:  help
us, O Lord our God:  for with confidence in thee, and in thy name we are
come against this multitude.  O Lord thou art our God, let not man
prevail against thee.
14:12. And the Lord terrified the Ethiopians before Asa and Juda:  and
the Ethiopians fled.
14:13. And Asa and the people that were with him pursued them to
Gerara:  and the Ethiopians fell even to utter destruction, for the Lord
slew them, and his army fought against them, and they were destroyed.
And they took abundance of spoils,
14:14. And they took all the cities round about Gerara:  for a great
fear was come upon all men:  and they pillaged the cities, and carried
off much booty.
14:15. And they destroyed the sheepcotes, and took an infinite number
of cattle, and of camels:  and returned to Jerusalem.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 15
The prophecy of Azarias.  Asa's covenant with God.  He deposeth his
15:1. And the spirit of God came upon Azarias the son of Oded,
15:2. And he went out to meet Asa, and said to him:  Hear ye me, Asa,
and all Juda and Benjamin:  The Lord is with you, because you have been
with him.  If you seek him, you shall find:  but if you forsake him, he
will forsake you.
15:3. And many days shall pass in Israel, without the true God, and
without a priest a teacher, and without the law.
15:4. And when in their distress they shall return to the Lord the God
of Israel, and shall seek him, they shall find him.
15:5. At that time there shall be no peace to him that goeth out and
cometh in, but terrors on every side among all the inhabitants of the
15:6. For nation shall fight against nation, and city against city, for
the Lord will trouble them with all distress.
15:7. Do you therefore take courage, and let not your hands be
weakened:  for there shall be a reward for your work.
15:8. And when Asa had heard the words, and the prophecy of Azarias the
son of Oded the prophet, he took courage, and took away the idols out
of all the land of Juda, and out of Benjamin, and out of the cities of
mount Ephraim, which he had taken, and he dedicated the altar of the
Lord, which was before the porch of the Lord.
15:9. And he gathered together all Juda and Benjamin, and the strangers
with them of Ephraim, and Manasses, and Simeon:  for many were come over
to him out of Israel, seeing that the Lord his God was with him.
15:10. And when they were come to Jerusalem in the third month, in the
fifteenth year of the reign of Asa,
15:11. They sacrificed to the Lord in that day of the spoils, and of
the prey, that they had brought, seven hundred oxen, and seven thousand
15:12. And he went in to confirm as usual the covenant, that they
should seek the Lord the God of their fathers with all their heart, and
with all their soul.
15:13. And if any one, said he, seek not the Lord the God of Israel,
let him die, whether little or great, man or woman.
15:14. And they swore to the Lord with a loud voice with joyful
shouting, and with sound of trumpet, and sound of cornets,
15:15. All that were in Juda with a curse:  for with all their heart
they swore, and with all their will they sought him, and they found
him, and the Lord gave them rest round about.
15:16. Moreover Maacha the mother of king Asa he deposed from the royal
authority, because she had made in a grove an idol of Priapus:  and he
entirely destroyed it, and breaking it into pieces, burnt it at the
torrent Cedron.
15:17. But high places were left in Israel:  nevertheless the heart of
Asa was perfect all his days.
15:18. And the things which his father had vowed, and he himself had
vowed, he brought into the house of the Lord, gold and silver, and
vessels of divers uses.
15:19. And there was no war unto the five and thirtieth year of the
kingdom of Asa.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 16
Asa is reproved for seeking help from the Syrians:  his last acts and
16:1. And in the six and thirtieth year of his kingdom, Baasa the king
of Israel came up against Juda, and built a wall about Rama, that no
one might safely go out or come in of the kingdom of Asa.
Six and thirtieth year of his kingdom. . .That is, of the kingdom of
Juda, taking the date of it from the beginning of the reign of Reboam.
16:2. Then Asa brought out silver and gold out of the treasures of the
house of the Lord, and of the king's treasures, and sent to Benadad
king of Syria, who dwelt in Damascus, saying:
16:3. There is a league between me and thee, as there was between my
father and thy father, wherefore I have sent thee silver and gold, that
thou mayst break thy league with Baasa king of Israel, and make him
depart from me.
16:4. And when Benadad heard this, he sent the captains of his armies
against the cities of Israel:  and they took Ahion, and Dan, and
Abelmaim, and all the walled cities of Nephtali.
16:5. And when Baasa heard of it, he left off the building of Rama, and
interrupted his work.
16:6. Then king Asa took all Juda, and they carried away from Rama the
stones, and the timber that Baasa had prepared for the building:  and he
built with them Gabaa, and Maspha.
16:7. At that time Hanani the prophet came to Asa king of Juda, and
said to him:  Because thou hast had confidence in the king of Syria, and
not in the Lord thy God, therefore hath the army of the king of Syria
escaped out of thy hand.
16:8. Were not the Ethiopians, and the Libyans much more numerous in
chariots, and horsemen, and an exceeding great multitude:  yet because
thou trustedst in the Lord, he delivered them into thy hand?
16:9. For the eyes of the Lord behold all the earth, and give strength
to those who with a perfect heart trust in him.  Wherefore thou hast
done foolishly, and for this cause from this time wars shall arise
against thee.
16:10. And Asa was angry with the seer, and commanded him to be put in
prison:  for he was greatly enraged because of this thing:  and he put to
death many of the people at that time.
16:11. But the works of Asa the first and last are written in the book
of the kings of Juda and Israel.
16:12. And Asa fell sick in the nine and thirtieth year of his reign,
of a most violent pain in his feet, and yet in his illness he did not
seek the Lord, but rather trusted in the skill of physicians.
16:13. And he slept with his fathers:  and he died in the one and
fortieth year of his reign.
16:14. And they buried him in his own sepulchre, which he had made for
himself in the city of David:  and they laid him on his bed full of
spices and odoriferous ointments, which were made by the art of the
perfumers, and they burnt them over him with very great pomp.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 17
Josaphat's reign:  his care for the instruction of his people:  his
numerous forces.
17:1. And Josaphat his son reigned in his stead, and grew strong
against Israel.
17:2. And he placed numbers of soldiers in all the fortified cities of
Juda.  And he put garrisons in the land of Juda, and in the cities of
Ephraim, which Asa his father had taken.
17:3. And the Lord was with Josaphat, because he walked in the first
ways of David his father:  and trusted not in Baalim,
17:4. But in the God of his father, and walked in his commandments, and
not according to the sins of Israel.
17:5. And the Lord established the kingdom in his hand, and all Juda
brought presents to Josaphat:  and he acquired immense riches, and much
17:6. And when his heart had taken courage for the ways of the Lord, he
took away also the high places and the groves out of Juda.
17:7. And in the third year of his reign, he sent of his princes
Benhail, and Abdias, and Zacharias, and Nathanael, and Micheas, to
teach in the cites of Juda:
17:8. And with them the Levites, Semeias, and Nathanias, and Zabadias,
and Asael, and Semiramoth, and Jonathan, and Adonias, and Tobias, and
Thobadonias Levites, and with them Elisama, and Joram priests.
17:9. And they taught the people in Juda, having with them the book of
the law of the Lord:  and they went about all the cities of Juda, and
instructed the people.
17:10. And the fear of the Lord came upon all the kingdoms of the lands
that were round about Juda, and they durst not make war against
17:11. The Philistines also brought presents to Josaphat, and tribute
in silver, and the Arabians brought him cattle, seven thousand seven
hundred rams, and as many he goats.
17:12. And Josaphat grew, and became exceeding great:  and he built in
Juda houses like towers, and walled cities.
17:13. And he prepared many works in the cities of Juda:  and he had
warriors, and valiant men in Jerusalem.
17:14. Of whom this is the number of the houses and families of every
one:  in Juda captains of the army, Ednas the chief, and with him three
hundred thousand most valiant men.
17:15. After him Johanan the captain, and with him two hundred and
eighty thousand.
17:16. And after him was Amasias the son of Zechri, consecrated to the
Lord, and with him were two hundred thousand valiant men.
17:17. After him was Eliada valiant in battle, and with him two hundred
thousand armed with bow and shield.
17:18. After him also was Jozabad, and with him a hundred and eighty
thousand ready for war.
17:19. All these were at the hand of the king, beside others, whom he
had put in the walled cities, in all Juda.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 18
Josaphat accompanies Achab in his expedition against Ramoth; where
Achab is slain, as Micheas had foretold.
18:1. Now Josaphat was rich and very glorious, and was joined by
affinity to Achab.
18:2. And he went down to him after some years to Samaria:  and Achab at
his coming killed sheep and oxen in abundance for him and the people
that came with him:  and he persuaded him to go up to Ramoth Galaad.
18:3. And Achab king of Israel said to Josaphat king of Juda:  Come with
me to Ramoth Galaad.  And he answered him:  Thou art as I am, and my
people as thy people, and we will be with thee in the war.
18:4. And Josaphat said to the king of Israel:  Inquire, I beseech thee,
at present the word of the Lord.
18:5. So the king of Israel gathered together of the prophets four
hundred men, and he said to them:  Shall we go to Ramoth Galaad to
fight, or shall we forbear?  But they said:  Go up, and God will deliver
into the king's hand.
18:6. And Josaphat said:  Is there not here a prophet of the Lord, that
we may inquire also of him?
18:7. And the king of Israel said to Josaphat:  There is one man, of
whom we may ask the will of the Lord:  but I hate him, for he never
prophesieth good to me, but always evil:  and it is Micheas the son of
Jemla.  And Josaphat said:  Speak not thus, O king.
18:8. And the king of Israel called one of the eunuchs, and said to
him:  Call quickly Micheas the son of Jemla.
18:9. Now the king of Israel, and Josaphat king of Juda, both sat on
their thrones, clothed in royal robes, and they sat in the open court
by the gate of Samaria, and all the prophets prophesied before them.
18:10. And Sedecias the son of Chanaana made him horns of iron, and
said:  Thus saith the Lord:  With these shalt thou push Syria, till thou
18:11. And all the prophets prophesied in like manner, and said:  Go up
to Ramoth Galaad, and thou shalt prosper, and the Lord will deliver
them into the king's hand.
18:12. And the messenger that went to call Micheas, said to him:  Behold
the words of all the prophets with one mouth declare good to the king:
I beseech thee therefore let not thy word disagree with them, and speak
thou also good success.
18:13. And Micheas answered him:  As the Lord liveth, whatsoever my God
shall say to me, that will I speak.
18:14. So he came to the king:  and the king said to him:  Micheas, shall
we go to Ramoth Galaad to fight, or forbear?  And he answered him:  Go
up, for all shall succeed prosperously, and the enemies shall be
delivered into your hands.
18:15. And the king said:  I adjure thee again and again to say nothing
but the truth to me, in the name of the Lord.
18:16. Then he said:  I saw all Israel scattered in the mountains, like
sheep without a shepherd:  and the Lord said:  These have no masters:
let every man return to his own house in peace.
18:17. And the king of Israel said to Josaphat:  Did I not tell thee
that this man would not prophesy me any good, but evil?
18:18. Then he said:  Hear ye therefore the word of the Lord:  I saw the
Lord sitting on his throne, and all the army of heaven standing by him
on the right hand and on the left,
18:19. And the Lord said:  Who shall deceive Achab king of Israel, that
he may go up and fall in Ramoth Galaad?  And when one spoke in this
manner, and another otherwise:
Who shall deceive, etc. . .See the annotations, 3 Kings 22.
18:20. There came forth a spirit, and stood before the Lord, and said:
I will deceive him.  And the Lord said to him:  By what means wilt thou
deceive him?
18:21. And he answered:  I will go out, and be a lying spirit in the
mouth of all his prophets.  And the Lord said:  Thou shalt deceive, and
shalt prevail:  go out, and do so.
18:22. Now therefore behold the Lord hath put a spirit of lying in the
mouth of all thy prophets, and the Lord hath spoken evil against thee.
18:23. And Sedecias the son of Chanaana came, and struck Micheas on the
cheek and said:  Which way went the spirit of the Lord from me, to speak
18:24. And Micheas said:  Thou thyself shalt see in that day, when thou
shalt go in from chamber to chamber, to hide thyself.
18:25. And the king of Israel commanded, saying:  Take Micheas, and
carry him to Amon the governor of the city, and to Joas the son of
18:26. And say:  Thus saith the king:  Put this fellow in prison, and
give him bread and water in a small quantity till I return in peace.
18:27. And Micheas said:  If thou return in peace, the Lord hath not
spoken by me.  And he said:  Hear, all ye people.
18:28. So the king of Israel and Josaphat king of Juda went up to
Ramoth Galaad.
18:29. And the king of Israel said to Josaphat:  I will change my dress,
and so I will go to the battle, but put thou on thy own garments.  And
the king of Israel having changed his dress, went to the battle.
18:30. Now the king of Syria had commanded the captains of his cavalry,
saying:  Fight ye not with small, or great, but with the king of Israel
18:31. So when the captains of the cavalry saw Josaphat, they said:
This is the king of Israel.  And they surrounded him to attack him:  but
he cried to the Lord, and he helped him, and turned them away from him.
18:32. For when the captains of the cavalry saw, that he was not the
king of Israel, they left him.
18:33. And it happened that one of the people shot an arrow at a
venture, and struck the king of Israel between the neck and the
shoulders, and he said to his chariot man:  Turn thy hand, and carry me
out of the battle, for I am wounded.
18:34. And the fight was ended that day:  but the king of Israel stood
in his chariot against the Syrians until the evening, and died at the
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 19
Josaphat's charge to the judges and to the Levites.
19:1. And Josaphat king of Juda returned to his house in peace to
19:2. And Jehu the son of Hanani the seer met him, and said to him:
Thou helpest the ungodly, and thou art joined in friendship with them
that hate the Lord, and therefore thou didst deserve indeed the wrath
of the Lord:
19:3. But good works are found in thee, because thou hast taken away
the groves out of the land of Juda, and hast prepared thy heart to seek
the Lord the God of thy fathers.
19:4. And Josaphat dwelt at Jerusalem:  and he went out again to the
people from Bersabee to mount Ephraim, and brought them back to the
Lord the God of their fathers.
19:5. And he set judges of the land in all the fenced cities of Juda,
in every place.
19:6. And charging the judges, he said:  Take heed what you do:  for you
exercise not the judgment of man, but of the Lord:  and whatsoever you
judge, it shall redound to you.
19:7. Let the fear of the Lord be with you, and do all things with
diligence:  for there is no iniquity with the Lord our God, nor respect
of persons, nor desire of gifts.
19:8. In Jerusalem also Josaphat appointed Levites, and priests and
chiefs of the families of Israel, to judge the judgment and the cause
of the Lord for the inhabitants thereof.
19:9. And he charged them, saying, Thus shall you do in the fear of the
Lord faithfully, and with a perfect heart.
19:10. Every cause that shall come to you of your brethren, that dwell
in their cities, between kindred and kindred, wheresoever there is
question concerning the law, the commandment, the ceremonies, the
justifications:  shew it them, that they may not sin against the Lord,
and that wrath may not come upon you and your brethren:  and so doing
you shall not sin.
19:11. And Amarias the priest your high priest shall be chief in the
things which regard God:  and Zabadias the son of Ismahel, who is ruler
in the house of Juda, shall be over those matters which belong to the
king's office:  and you have before you the Levites for masters, take
courage and do diligently, and the Lord will be with you in good
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 20
The Ammonites, Moabites, and Syrians combine against Josaphat:  he
seeketh God's help by public prayer and fasting.  A prophet foretelleth
that God will fight for his people:  the enemies destroy one another.
Josaphat with his men gathereth the spoils.  He reigneth in peace, but
his navy perisheth, for his society with wicked Ochozias.
20:1. After this the children of Moab, and the children of Ammon, and
with them of the Ammonites, were gathered together to fight against
20:2. And there came messengers, and told Josaphat, saying:  There
cometh a great multitude against thee from beyond the sea, and out of
Syria, and behold they are in Asasonthamar, which is Engaddi.
20:3. And Josaphat being seized with fear betook himself wholly to pray
to the Lord, and he proclaimed a fast for all Juda.
20:4. And Juda gathered themselves together to pray to the Lord:  and
all came out of their cities to make supplication to him.
20:5. And Josaphat stood in the midst of the assembly of Juda, and
Jerusalem, in the house of the Lord before the new court,
20:6. And said:  O Lord God of our fathers, thou art God in heaven, and
rulest over all the kingdoms and nations, in thy hand is strength and
power, and no one can resist thee.
20:7. Didst not thou our God kill all the inhabitants of this land
before thy people Israel, and gavest it to the seed of Abraham thy
friend for ever?
20:8. And they dwelt in it, and built in it a sanctuary to thy name,
20:9. If evils fall upon us, the sword of judgment, or pestilence, or
famine, we will stand in thy presence before this house, in which thy
name is called upon:  and we will cry to thee in our afflictions, and
thou wilt hear, and save us.
20:10. Now therefore behold the children of Ammon, and of Moab, and
mount Seir, through whose lands thou didst not allow Israel to pass,
when they came out of Egypt, but they turned aside from them, and slew
20:11. Do the contrary, and endeavour to cast us out of the possession
which thou hast delivered to us.
20:12. O our God, wilt thou not then judge them?  as for us we have not
strength enough, to be able to resist this multitude, which cometh
violently upon us.  But as we know not what to do, we can only turn our
eyes to thee.
20:13. And all Juda stood before the Lord with their little ones, and
their wives, and their children.
20:14. And Jahaziel the son of Zacharias, the son of Banaias, the son
of Jehiel, the son of Mathanias, a Levite of the sons of Asaph, was
there, upon whom the spirit of the Lord came in the midst of the
20:15. And he said:  Attend ye, all Juda, and you that dwell in
Jerusalem, and thou king Josaphat:  Thus saith the Lord to you:  Fear ye
not, and be not dismayed at this multitude:  for the battle is not
yours, but God's.
20:16. To morrow you shall go down against them:  for they will come up
by the ascent named Sis, and you shall find them at the head of the
torrent, which is over against the wilderness of Jeruel.
20:17. It shall not be you that shall fight, but only stand with
confidence, and you shall see the help of the Lord over you, O Juda,
and Jerusalem:  fear ye not, nor be you dismayed:  to morrow you shall go
out against them, and the Lord will be with you.
20:18. Then Josaphat, and Juda, and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem
fell flat on the ground before the Lord, and adored him.
20:19. And the Levites of the sons of Caath, and of the sons of Core
praised the Lord the God of Israel with a loud voice, on high.
20:20. And they rose early in the morning, and went out through the
desert of Thecua:  and as they were marching, Josaphat standing in the
midst of them, said:  Hear me, ye men of Juda, and all the inhabitants
of Jerusalem:  believe in the Lord your God, and you shall be secure:
believe his prophets, and all things shall succeed well.
20:21. And he gave counsel to the people, and appointed the singing men
of the Lord, to praise him by their companies, and to go before the
army, and with one voice to say:  Give glory to the Lord, for his mercy
endureth for ever.
20:22. And when they began to sing praises, the Lord turned their
ambushments upon themselves, that is to say, of the children of Ammon,
and of Moab, and of mount Seir, who were come out to fight against
Juda, and they were slain.
20:23. For the children of Ammon, and of Moab, rose up against the
inhabitants of mount Seir, to kill and destroy them:  and when they had
made an end of them, they turned also against one another, and
destroyed one another.
20:24. And when Juda came to the watch tower, that looketh toward the
desert, they saw afar off all the country, for a great space, full of
dead bodies, and that no one was left that could escape death.
20:25. Then Josaphat came, and all the people with him to take away the
spoils of the dead, and they found among the dead bodies, stuff of
various kinds, and garments, and most precious vessels:  and they took
them for themselves, insomuch that they could not carry all, nor in
three days take away the spoils, the booty was so great.
20:26. And on the fourth day they were assembled in the valley of
Blessing:  for there they blessed the Lord, and therefore they called
that place the valley of Blessing until this day.
20:27. And every man of Juda, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem
returned, and Josaphat at their head, into Jerusalem with great joy,
because the Lord had made them rejoice over their enemies.
20:28. And they came into Jerusalem with psalteries, and harps, and
trumpets into the house of the Lord.
20:29. And the fear of the Lord fell upon all the kingdoms of the lands
when they heard that the Lord had fought against the enemies of Israel.
20:30. And the kingdom of Josaphat was quiet, and God gave him peace
round about.
20:31. And Josaphat reigned over Juda, and he was five and thirty years
old, when he began to reign:  and he reigned five and twenty years in
Jerusalem:  and the name of his mother was Azuba the daughter of Selahi.
20:32. And he walked in the way of his father Asa and departed not from
it, doing the things that were pleasing before the Lord.
20:33. But yet he took not away the high places, and the people had not
yet turned their heart to the Lord the God of their fathers.
20:34. But the rest of the acts of Josaphat, first and last, are
written in the words of Jehu the son of Hanani, which he digested into
the books of the kings of Israel.
20:35. After these things Josaphat king of Juda made friendship with
Ochozias king of Israel, whose works were very wicked.
20:36. And he was partner with him in making ships, to go to Tharsis:
and they made the ships in Asiongaber.
20:37. And Eliezer the son of Dodau of Maresa prophesied to Josaphat,
saying:  Because thou hast made a league with Ochozias, the Lord hath
destroyed thy works, and the ships are broken, and they could not go to
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 21
Joram's wicked reign:  his punishment and death.
21:1. And Josaphat slept with his fathers, and was buried with them in
the city of David:  and Joram his son reigned in his stead.
21:2. And he had brethren the sons of Josaphat, Azarias, and Jahiel,
and Zacharias, and Azaria, and Michael, and Saphatias, all these were
the sons of Josaphat king of Juda.
21:3. And their father gave them great gifts of silver, and of gold,
and pensions, with strong cities in Juda:  but the kingdom he gave to
Joram, because he was the eldest.
21:4. So Joram rose up over the kingdom of his father:  and when he had
established himself, he slew all his brethren with the sword, and some
of the princes of Israel.
21:5. Joram was two and thirty years old when he began to reign:  and he
reigned eight years in Jerusalem.
21:6. And he walked in the ways of the kings of Israel, as the house of
Achab had done:  for his wife was a daughter of Achab, and he did evil
in the sight of the Lord.
21:7. But the Lord would not destroy the house of David:  because of the
covenant which he had made with him:  and because he had promised to
give a lamp to him, and to his sons for ever.
21:8. In those days Edom revolted, from being subject to Juda, and made
themselves a king.
21:9. And Joram went over with his princes, and all his cavalry with
him, and rose in the night, and defeated the Edomites who had
surrounded him, and all the captains of his cavalry.
21:10. However Edom revolted, from being under the dominion of Juda
unto this day:  at that time Lobna also revolted, from being under his
hand.  For he had forsaken the Lord the God of his fathers.
21:11. Moreover he built also high places in the cities of Juda, and he
made the inhabitants of Jerusalem to commit fornication, and Juda to
21:12. And there was a letter brought him from Eliseus the prophet, in
which it was written:  Thus saith the Lord the God of David thy father:
Because thou hast not walked in the ways of Josaphat thy father nor in
the ways of Asa king of Juda,
21:13. But hast walked in the ways of the kings of Israel, and hast
made Juda and the inhabitants of Jerusalem to commit fornication,
imitating the fornication of the house of Achab, moreover also thou
hast killed thy brethren, the house of thy father, better men than
21:14. Behold the Lord will strike thee with a great plague, with all
thy people, and thy children, and thy wives, and all thy substance.
21:15. And thou shalt be sick of a very grievous disease of thy bowels,
till thy vital parts come out by little and little every day.
21:16. And the Lord stirred up against Joram the spirit of the
Philistines, and of the Arabians, who border on the Ethiopians.
21:17. And they came up into the land of Juda, and wasted it, and they
carried away all the substance that was found in the king's house, his
sons also, and his wives:  so that there was no son left him but
Joachaz, who was the youngest.
Joachaz. . .Alias Ochozias.
21:18. And besides all this the Lord struck him with an incurable
disease in his bowels.
21:19. And as day came after day, and time rolled on, two whole years
passed:  then after being wasted with a long consumption, so as to void
his very bowels, his disease ended with his life.  And he died of a most
wretched illness, and the people did not make a funeral for him
according to the manner of burning, as they had done for his ancestors.
21:20. He was two and thirty years old when he began his reign, and he
reigned eight years in Jerusalem.  And he walked not rightly, and they
buried him in the city of David:  but not in the sepulchres of the
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 22
The reign and death of Ochozias.  The tyranny of Athalia.
22:1. And the inhabitants of Jerusalem made Ochozias his youngest son
king in his place:  for the rovers of the Arabians, who had broke in
upon the camp, had killed all that were his elder brothers.  So Ochozias
the son of Joram king of Juda reigned.
22:2. Ochozias was forty-two years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned one year in Jerusalem, and the name of his mother was Athalia
the daughter of Amri.
Forty-two, etc. . .Divers Greek Bibles read thirty-two, agreeably to 4
22:3. He also walked in the ways of the house of Achab:  for his mother
pushed him on to do wickedly.
22:4. So he did evil in the sight of the Lord, as the house of Achab
did:  for they were his counsellors after the death of his father, to
his destruction.
22:5. And he walked after their counsels.  And he went with Joram the
son of Achab king of Israel, to fight against Hazael king of Syria, at
Ramoth Galaad:  and the Syrians wounded Joram.
22:6. And he returned to be healed in Jezrahel:  for he received many
wounds in the foresaid battle.  And Ochozias the son of Joram king of
Juda, went down to visit Joram the son of Achab in Jezrahel where he
22:7. For it was the will of God against Ochozias that he should come
to Joram:  and when he was come should go out also against Jehu the son
of Namsi, whom the Lord had anointed to destroy the house of Achab.
22:8. So when Jehu was rooting out the house of Achab, he found the
princes of Juda, and the sons of the brethren of Ochozias, who served
him, and he slew them.
22:9. And he sought for Ochozias himself, and took him lying hid in
Samaria:  and when he was brought to him, he killed him, and they buried
him:  because he was the son of Josaphat, who had sought the Lord with
all his heart.  And there was no more hope that any one should reign of
the race of Ochozias.
22:10. For Athalia his mother, seeing that her son was dead, rose up,
and killed all the royal family of the house of Joram.
22:11. But Josabeth the king's daughter took Joas the son of Ochozias,
and stole him from among the king's sons that were slain.  And she hid
him with his nurse in a bedchamber:  now Josabeth that hid him, was
daughter of king Joram, wife of Joiada the high priest, and sister of
Ochozias, and therefore Athalia did not kill him.
22:12. And he was with them hid in the house of God six years, during
which Athalia reigned over the land.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 23
Joiada the high priest causeth Joas to be made king:  Athalia to be
slain, and idolatry to be destroyed.
23:1. And in the seventh year Joiada being encouraged, took the
captains of hundreds, to wit, Azarias the son of Jeroham, and Ismahel
the son of Johanan, and Azarias the son of Obed, and Maasias the son of
Adaias, and Elisaphat the son of Zechri:  and made a covenant with them.
23:2. And they went about Juda, and gathered together the Levites out
of all the cities of Juda, and the chiefs of the families of Israel,
and they came to Jerusalem.
23:3. And all the multitude made a covenant with the king in the house
of God:  and Joiada said to them:  Behold the king's son shall reign, as
the Lord hath said of the sons of David.
23:4. And this is the thing that you shall do:
23:5. A third part of you that come to the sabbath, of the priests, and
of the Levites, and of the porters shall be at the gates:  and a third
part at the king's house:  and a third at the gate that is called the
Foundation:  but let all the rest of the people be in the courts of the
house of the Lord.
To the sabbath. . .That is, to perform in your weeks the functions of
your office, or the weekly watches.
23:6. And let no one come into the house of the Lord, but the priests,
and they that minister of the Levites:  let them only come in, because
they are sanctified:  and let all the rest of the people keep the
watches of the Lord.
23:7. And let the Levites be round about the king, every man with his
arms; and if any other come into the temple, let him be slain; and let
them be with the king, both coming in, and going out.
23:8. So the Levites, and all Juda did according to all that Joiada the
high priest had commanded:  and they took every one his men that were
under him, and that came in by the course of the sabbath, with those
who had fulfilled the sabbath, and were to go out.  For Joiada the high
priest permitted not the companies to depart, which were accustomed to
succeed one another every week.
23:9. And Joiada the priest gave to the captains the spears, and the
shields, and targets of king David, which he had dedicated in the house
of the Lord.
23:10. And he set all the people with swords in their hands from the
right side of the temple, to the left side of the temple, before the
altar, and the temple, round about the king.
23:11. And they brought out the king's son, and put the crown upon him,
and the testimony, and gave him the law to hold in his hand, and they
made him king:  and Joiada the high priest and his sons anointed him:
and they prayed for him, and said:  God save the king.
23:12. Now when Athalia heard the noise of the people running and
praising the king, she came in to the people, into the temple of the
23:13. And when she saw the king standing upon the step in the
entrance, and the princes, and the companies about him, and all the
people of the land rejoicing, and sounding with trumpets, and playing
on instruments of divers kinds, and the voice of those that praised,
she rent her garments, and said:  Treason, treason.
23:14. And Joiada the high priest going out to the captains, and the
chiefs of the army, said to them:  Take her forth without the precinct
of the temple, and when she is without let her be killed with the
sword.  For the priest commanded that she should not be killed in the
house of the Lord.
23:15. And they laid hold on her by the neck:  and when she was come
within the horse gate of the palace, they killed her there.
23:16. And Joiada made a covenant between himself and all the people,
and the king, that they should be the people of the lord.
23:17. And all the people went into the house of Baal, and destroyed
it:  and they broke down his altars and his idols:  and they slew Mathan
the priest of Baal before the altars.
23:18. And Joiada appointed overseers in the house of the Lord, under
the hands of the priests, and the Levites, whom David had distributed
in the house of the Lord:  to offer holocausts to the Lord, as it is
written in the law of Moses, with joy and singing, according to the
disposition of David.
23:19. He appointed also porters in the gates of the house of the Lord,
that none who was unclean in any thing should enter in.
23:20. And he took the captains of hundreds, and the most valiant men,
and the chiefs of the people, and all the people of the land, and they
brought down the king from the house of the Lord, and brought him
through the upper gate into the king's house, and set him on the royal
23:21. And all the people of the land rejoiced, and the city was quiet:
but Athalia was slain with the sword.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 24
Joas reigneth well all the days of Joiada:  afterwards falleth into
idolatry and causeth Zacharias to be slain.  He is slain himself by his
24:1. Joas was seven years old when he began to reign:  and he reigned
forty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was Sebia of Bersabee.
24:2. And he did that which is good before the Lord all the days of
Joiada the priest.
24:3. And Joiada took for him two wives, by whom he had sons and
24:4. After this Joas had a mind to repair the house of the Lord.
24:5. And he assembled the priests, and the Levites, and said to them:
Go out to the cities of Juda, and gather of all Israel money to repair
the temple of your God, from year to year:  and do this with speed:  but
the Levites were negligent.
24:6. And the king called Joiada the chief, and said to him:  Why hast
thou not taken care to oblige the Levites to bring in out of Juda and
Jerusalem the money that was appointed by Moses the servant of the Lord
for all the multitude of Israel to bring into the tabernacle of the
24:7. For that wicked woman Athalia, and her children have destroyed
the house of God, and adorned the temple of Baal with all the things
that had been dedicated in the temple of the Lord.
24:8. And the king commanded, and they made a chest:  and set it by the
gate of the house of the Lord on the outside.
24:9. And they made a proclamation in Juda and Jerusalem, that every
man should bring to the Lord the money which Moses the servant of God
appointed for all Israel, in the desert.
24:10. And all the princes, and all the people rejoiced:  and going in
they contributed and cast so much into the chest of the Lord, that it
24:11. And when it was time to bring the chest before the king by the
hands of the Levites, (for they saw there was much money,) the king's
scribe, and he whom the high priest had appointed went in:  and they
poured out the money that was in the chest:  and they carried back the
chest to its place:  and thus they did from day to day, and there was
gathered an immense sum of money.
24:12. And the king and Joiada gave it to those who were over the works
of the house of the Lord:  but they hired with it stonecutters, and
artificers of every kind of work to repair the house of the Lord:  and
such as wrought in iron and brass, to uphold what began to be falling.
24:13. And the workmen were diligent, and the breach of the walls was
closed up by their hands, and they set up the house of the Lord in its
former state, and made it stand firm.
24:14. And when they had finished all the works, they brought the rest
of the money before the king and Joiada:  and with it were made vessels
for the temple for the ministry, and for holocausts and bowls, and
other vessels of gold and silver:  and holocausts were offered in the
house of the Lord continually all the days of Joiada.
24:15. But Joiada grew old and was full of days, and died when he was a
hundred and thirty years old.
24:16. And they buried him in the city of David among the kings,
because he had done good to Israel, and to his house.
24:17. And after the death of Joiada, the princes of Juda went in, and
worshipped the king:  and he was soothed by their services and hearkened
24:18. And they forsook the temple of the Lord the God of their
fathers, and served groves and idols, and wrath came upon Juda and
Jerusalem for this sin.
24:19. And he sent prophets to them to bring them back to the Lord, and
they would not give ear when they testified against them.
24:20. The spirit of God then came upon Zacharias the son of Joiada the
priest, and he stood in the sight of the people, and said to them:  Thus
saith the Lord God:  Why transgress you the commandment of the Lord
which will not be for your good, and have forsaken the Lord, to make
him forsake you?
24:21. And they gathered themselves together against him, and stoned
him at the king's commandment in the court of the house of the Lord.
24:22. And king Joas did not remember the kindness that Joiada his
father had done to him, but killed his son.  And when he died, he said:
The Lord see, and require it.
24:23. And when a year was come about, the army of Syria came up
against him:  and they came to Juda and Jerusalem, and killed all the
princes of the people, and they sent all the spoils to the king of
24:24. And whereas there came a very small number of the Syrians, the
Lord delivered into their hands an infinite multitude, because they had
forsaken the Lord the God of their fathers:  and on Joas they executed
shameful judgments.
24:25. And departing they left him in great diseases:  and his servants
rose up against him, for revenge of the blood of the son of Joiada the
priest, and they slew him in his bed, and he died:  and they buried him
in the city of David, but not in the sepulchres of the kings.
24:26. Now the men that conspired against him were Zabad the son of
Semmaath an Ammonitess, and Jozabad the son of Semarith a Moabitess.
24:27. And concerning his sons, and the sum of money which was gathered
under him, and the repairing the house of God, they are written more
diligently in the book of kings:  and Amasias his son reigned in his
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 25
Amasias' reign:  he beginneth well, but endeth ill:  he is overthrown by
Joas, and slain by his people.
25:1. Amasias was five and twenty years old when he began to reign, and
he reigned nine and twenty years in Jerusalem, the name of his mother
was Joadan of Jerusalem.
25:2. And he did what was good in the sight of the Lord:  but yet not
with a perfect heart.
25:3. And when he saw himself strengthened in his kingdom, he put to
death the servants that had slain the king his father.
25:4. But he slew not their children, as it is written in the book of
the law of Moses, where the Lord commanded, saying:  The fathers shall
not be slain for the children, nor the children for their fathers, but
every man shall die for his own sin.
25:5. Amasias therefore gathered Juda together, and appointed them by
families, and captains of thousands and of hundreds in all Juda, and
Benjamin:  and he numbered them from twenty years old and upwards, and
found three hundred thousand young men that could go out to battle, and
could hold the spear and shield.
25:6. He hired also of Israel a hundred thousand valiant men, for a
hundred talents of silver.
25:7. But a man of God came to him, and said:  O king, let not the army
of Israel go out with thee, for the Lord is not with Israel, and all
the children of Ephraim:
25:8. And if thou think that battles consist in the strength of the
army, God will make thee to be overcome by the enemies:  for it
belongeth to God both to help, and to put to flight.
25:9. And Amasias said to the man of God:  What will then become of the
hundred talents which I have given to the soldiers of Israel?  and the
man of God answered him:  The Lord is rich enough to be able to give
thee much more than this.
25:10. Then Amasias separated the army, that came to him out of
Ephraim, to go home again:  but they being much enraged against Juda,
returned to their own country.
25:11. And Amasias taking courage led forth his people, and went to the
vale of saltpits, and slew of the children of Seir ten thousand.
25:12. And other ten thousand men the sons of Juda took, and brought to
the steep of a certain rock, and cast them down headlong from the top,
and they all were broken to pieces.
25:13. But that army which Amasias had sent back, that they should not
go with him to battle, spread themselves among the cities of Juda, from
Samaria to Beth-horon, and having killed three thousand took away much
25:14. But Amasias after he had slain the Edomites, set up the gods of
the children of Seir, which he had brought thence, to be his gods, and
adored them, and burnt incense to them.
25:15. Wherefore the Lord being angry against Amasias, sent a prophet
to him, to say to him:  Why hast thou adored gods that have not
delivered their own people out of thy hand?
25:16. And when he spoke these things, he answered him:  Art thou the
king's counsellor?  be quiet, lest I kill thee.  And the prophet
departing, said:  I know that God is minded to kill thee, because thou
hast done this evil, and moreover hast not hearkened to my counsel.
25:17. Then Amasias king of Juda taking very bad counsel, sent to Joas
the son of Joachaz the son of Jehu, king of Israel, saying:  Come, let
us see one another.
25:18. But he sent back the messengers, saying:  The thistle that is in
Libanus, sent to the cedar in Libanus, saying:  Give thy daughter to my
son to wife:  and behold the beasts that were in the wood of Libanus
passed by and trod down the thistle.
25:19. Thou hast said:  I have overthrown Edom, and therefore thy heart
is lifted up with pride:  stay at home, why dost thou provoke evil
against thee, that both thou shouldst fall and Juda with thee.
25:20. Amasias would not hearken to him, because it was the Lord's will
that he should be delivered into the hands of enemies, because of the
gods of Edom.
25:21. So Joas king of Israel went up, and they presented themselves to
be seen by one another:  and Amasias king of Juda was in Bethsames of
25:22. And Juda fell before Israel, and they fled to their dwellings.
25:23. And Joas king of Israel took Amasias king of Juda, the son of
Joas, the son of Joachaz, in Bethsames, and brought him to Jerusalem:
and broke down the walls thereof from the gate of Ephraim, to the gate
of the corner, four hundred cubits.
25:24. And he took all the gold, and silver, and all the vessels, that
he found in the house of God, and with Obededom, and in the treasures
of the king's house, moreover also the sons of the hostages, he brought
back to Samaria.
25:25. And Amasias the son of Joas king of Juda lived, after the death
of Joas the son of Joachaz king of Israel, fifteen years.
25:26. Now the rest of the acts of Amasias, the first and last, are
written in the book of the kings of Juda and Israel.
25:27. And after he revolted from the Lord, they made a conspiracy
against him in Jerusalem.  And he fled into Lachis, and they sent, and
killed him there.
25:28. And they brought him back upon horses, and buried him with his
fathers in the city of David.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 26
Ozias reigneth prosperously, till he invadeth the priests' office, upon
which he is struck with a leprosy.
26:1. And all the people of Juda took his son Ozias, who was sixteen
years old, and made him king in the room of Amasias his father.
26:2. He built Ailath, and restored it to the dominion of Juda, after
that the king slept with his fathers.
26:3. Ozias was sixteen years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned two and fifty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Jechelia of Jerusalem.
26:4. And he did that which was right in the eyes of the Lord,
according to all that Amasias his father had done.
26:5. And he sought the Lord in the days of Zacharias that understood
and saw God:  and as long as he sought the Lord, he directed him in all
26:6. Moreover he went forth and fought against the Philistines, and
broke down the wall of Geth, and the wall of Jabnia, and the wall of
Azotus:  and he built towns in Azotus, and among the Philistines.
26:7. And God helped him against the Philistines, and against the
Arabians, that dwelt in Gurbaal, and against the Ammonites.
26:8. And the Ammonites gave gifts to Ozias:  and his name was spread
abroad even to the entrance of Egypt for his frequent victories.
26:9. And Ozias built towers in Jerusalem over the gate of the corner,
and over the gate of the valley, and the rest, in the same side of the
wall, and fortified them.
26:10. And he built towers in the wilderness, and dug many cisterns,
for he had much cattle both in the plains, and in the waste of the
desert:  he had also vineyards and dressers of vines in the mountains,
and in Carmel:  for he was a man that loved husbandry.
26:11. And the army of his fighting men, that went out to war, was
under the hand of Jehiel the scribe, and Maasias the doctor, and under
the hand of Henanias, who was one of the king's captains.
26:12. And the whole number of the chiefs by the families of valiant
men were two thousand six hundred.
26:13. And the whole army under them three hundred and seven thousand
five hundred:  who were fit for war, and fought for the king against the
26:14. And Ozias prepared for them, that is, for the whole army,
shields, and spears, and helmets, and coats of mail, and bows, and
slings to cast stones.
26:15. And he made in Jerusalem engines of diverse kinds, which he
placed in the towers, and in the corners of the walls, to shoot arrows,
and great stones:  and his name went forth far abroad, for the Lord
helped him, and had strengthened him.
26:16. But when he was made strong, his heart was lifted up to his
destruction, and he neglected the Lord his God:  and going into the
temple of the Lord, he had a mind to burn incense upon the altar of
26:17. And immediately Azarias the priest going in after him, and with
him fourscore priests of the Lord, most valiant men,
26:18. Withstood the king and said:  It doth not belong to thee, Ozias,
to burn incense to the Lord, but to the priests, that is, to the sons
of Aaron, who are consecrated for this ministry:  go out of the
sanctuary, do not despise:  for this thing shall not be accounted to thy
glory by the Lord God.
26:19. And Ozias was angry, and holding in his hand the censer to burn
incense, threatened the priests.  And presently there rose a leprosy in
his forehead before the priests, in the house of the Lord at the altar
26:20. And Azarias the high priest, and all the rest of the priests
looked upon him, and saw the leprosy in his forehead, and they made
haste to thrust him out.  Yea himself also being frightened, hasted to
go out, because he had quickly felt the stroke of the Lord.
26:21. And Ozias the king was a leper unto the day of his death, and he
dwelt in a house apart being full of the leprosy, for which he had been
cast out of the house of the Lord.  And Joatham his son governed the
king's house, and judged the people of the land.
26:22. But the rest of the acts of Ozias first and last were written by
Isaias the son of Amos, the prophet.
26:23. And Ozias slept with his fathers, and they buried him in the
field of the royal sepulchres, because he was a leper:  and Joatham his
son reigned in his stead.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 27
Joatham's good reign.
27:1. Joatham was five and twenty years old when he began to reign, and
he reigned sixteen years in Jerusalem:  the name of his mother was
Jerusa the daughter of Sadoc.
27:2. And he did that which was right before the Lord, according to all
that Ozias his father had done, only that he entered not into the
temple of the Lord, and the people still transgressed.
27:3. He built the high gate of the house of the Lord, and on the wall
of Ophel he built much.
27:4. Moreover he built cities in the mountains of Juda, and castles
and towers in the forests.
27:5. He fought against the king of the children of Ammon, and overcame
them, and the children of Ammon gave him at that time a hundred talents
of silver, and ten thousand measures of wheat, and as many measures of
barley:  so much did the children of Ammon give him in the second and
27:6. And Joatham was strengthened, because he had his way directed
before the Lord his God.
27:7. Now the rest of the acts of Joatham, and all his wars, and his
works, are written in the book of the kings of Israel and Juda.
27:8. He was five and twenty years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned sixteen years in Jerusalem.
27:9. And Joatham slept with his fathers, and they buried him in the
city of David:  and Achaz his son reigned in his stead.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 28
The wicked and unhappy reign of Achaz.
28:1. Achaz was twenty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned
sixteen years in Jerusalem:  he did not that which was right in the
sight of the Lord as David his father had done,
28:2. But walked in the ways of the kings of Israel; moreover also he
cast statues for Baalim.
28:3. It was he that burnt incense in the valley of Benennom, and
consecrated his sons in the fire according to the manner of the
nations, which the Lord slew at the coming of the children of Israel.
28:4. He sacrificed also, and burnt incense in the high places, and on
the hills, and under every green tree.
28:5. And the Lord his God delivered him into the hands of the king of
Syria, who defeated him, and took a great booty out of his kingdom, and
carried it to Damascus:  he was also delivered into the hands of the
king of Israel, who overthrew him with a great slaughter.
28:6. For Phacee the son of Romelia slew of Juda a hundred and twenty
thousand in one day, all valiant men, because they had forsaken the
Lord the God of their fathers.
28:7. At the same time Zechri a powerful man of Ephraim, slew Maasias
the king's son, and Ezricam the governor of his house, and Elcana who
was next to the king.
28:8. And the children of Israel carried away of their brethren two
hundred thousand women, boys, and girls, and an immense booty:  and they
brought it to Samaria.
28:9. At that time there was a prophet of the Lord there, whose name
was Oded:  and he went out to meet the army that came to Samaria, and
said to them:  Behold the Lord the God of your fathers being angry with
Juda, hath delivered them into your hands, and you have butchered them
cruelly, so that your cruelty hath reached up to heaven.
28:10. Moreover you have a mind to keep under the children of Juda and
Jerusalem for your bondmen and bondwomen, which ought not to be done:
for you have sinned in this against the Lord your God.
28:11. But hear ye my counsel, and release the captives that you have
brought of your brethren, because a great indignation of the Lord
hangeth over you.
28:12. Then some of the chief men of the sons of Ephraim, Azarias the
son of Johanan, Barachias the son of Mosollamoth, Ezechias the son of
Sellum, and Amasa the son of Adali, stood up against them that came
from the war.
28:13. And they said to them:  You shall not bring in the captives
hither, lest we sin against the Lord.  Why will you add to our sins, and
heap up upon our former offences?  for the sin is great, and the fierce
anger of the Lord hangeth over Israel.
28:14. So the soldiers left the spoils, and all that they had taken,
before the princes and all the multitude.
28:15. And the men, whom we mentioned above, rose up and took the
captives, and with the spoils clothed all them that were naked:  and
when they had clothed and shod them, and refreshed them with meat and
drink, and anointed them because of their labour, and had taken care of
them, they set such of them as could not walk, and were feeble, upon
beasts, and brought them to Jericho the city of palm trees to their
brethren, and they returned to Samaria.
28:16. At that time king Achaz sent to the king of the Assyrians asking
28:17. And the Edomites came and slew many of Juda, and took a great
28:18. The Philistines also spread themselves among the cities of the
plains, and to the south of Juda:  and they took Bethsames, and Aialon,
and Gaderoth, and Socho, and Thamnan, and Gamzo, with their villages,
and they dwelt in them.
28:19. For the Lord had humbled Juda because of Achaz the king of Juda,
for he had stripped it of help, and had contemned the Lord.
For he had stripped it of help. . .That is, Achaz stripped the kingdom
of Juda of the divine assistance by his wickedness, and by his
introducing idolatry.
28:20. And he brought against him Thelgathphalnasar king of the
Assyrians, who also afflicted him, and plundered him without any
28:21. And Achaz stripped the house of the Lord, and the house of the
kings, and of the princes, and gave gifts to the king of the Assyrians,
and yet it availed him nothing.
28:22. Moreover also in the time of his distress he increased contempt
against the Lord:  king Achaz himself by himself,
28:23. Sacrificed victims to the gods of Damascus that struck him, and
he said:  The gods of the kings of Syria help them, and I will appease
them with victims, and they will help me; whereas on the contrary they
were the ruin of him, and of all Israel.
28:24. Then Achaz having taken away all the vessels of the house of
God, and broken them, shut up the doors of the temple of God, and made
himself altars in all the corners of Jerusalem.
28:25. And in all the cities of Juda he built altars to burn
frankincense, and he provoked the Lord the God of his fathers to wrath.
28:26. But the rest of his acts, and all his works first and last are
written in the book of the kings of Juda and Israel.
28:27. And Achaz slept with his fathers, and they buried him in the
city of Jerusalem:  for they received him not into the sepulchres of the
kings of Israel.  And Ezechias his son reigned in his stead.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 29
Ezechias purifieth the temple, and restoreth religion.
29:1. Now Ezechias began to reign, when he was five and twenty years
old, and he reigned nine and twenty years in Jerusalem:  the name of his
mother was Abia, the daughter of Zacharias.
29:2. And he did that which was pleasing in the sight of the Lord,
according to all that David his father had done.
29:3. In the first year and month of his reign he opened the doors of
the house of the Lord, and repaired them.
29:4. And he brought the priests and the Levites, and assembled them in
the east street.
29:5. And he said to them:  Hear me, ye Levites, and be sanctified,
purify the house of the Lord the God of your fathers, and take away all
filth out of the sanctuary.
29:6. Our fathers have sinned and done evil in the sight of the Lord
God, forsaking him:  they have turned away their faces from the
tabernacle of the Lord, and turned their backs.
29:7. They have shut up the doors that were in the porch, and put out
the lamps, and have not burnt incense, nor offered holocausts in the
sanctuary of the God of Israel.
29:8. Therefore the wrath of the Lord hath been stirred up against Juda
and Jerusalem, and he hath delivered them to trouble, and to
destruction, and to be hissed at, as you see with your eyes.
29:9. Behold, our fathers are fallen by the sword, our sons, and our
daughters, and wives are led away captives for this wickedness.
29:10. Now therefore I have a mind that we make a covenant with the
Lord the God of Israel, and he will turn away the wrath of his
indignation from us.
29:11. My sons, be not negligent:  the Lord hath chosen you to stand
before him, and to minister to him, and to worship him, and to burn
incense to him.
29:12. Then the Levites arose, Mahath the son of Amasai, and Joel the
son of Azarias, of the sons of Caath:  and of the sons of Merari, Cis
the son of Abdi, and Azarias the son of Jalaleel.  And of the sons of
Gerson, Joah the son of Zemma, and Eden the son of Joah.
29:13. And of the sons of Elisaphan, Samri, and Jahiel.  Also of the
sons of Asaph, Zacharias, and Mathanias.
29:14. And of the sons of Heman, Jahiel, and Semei:  and of the sons of
Idithun, Semeias, and Oziel.
29:15. And they gathered together their brethren, and sanctified
themselves, and went in according to the commandment of the king, and
the precept of the Lord, to purify the house of God.
29:16. And the priests went into the temple of the Lord to sanctify it,
and brought out all the uncleanness that they found within to the
entrance of the house of the Lord, and the Levites took it away, and
carried it out abroad to the torrent Cedron.
29:17. And they began to cleanse on the first day of the first month,
and on the eighth day of the same month they came into the porch of the
temple of the Lord, and they purified the temple in eight days, and on
the sixteenth day of the same month they finished what they had begun.
29:18. And they went in to king Ezechias, and said to him:  We have
sanctified all the house of the Lord, and the altar of holocaust, and
the vessels thereof, and the table of proposition with all its vessels,
29:19. And all the furniture of the temple, which king Achaz in his
reign had defiled, after his transgression; and behold they are all set
forth before the altar of the Lord.
29:20. And king Ezechias rising early, assembled all the rulers of the
city, and went up into the house of the Lord:
29:21. And they offered together seven bullocks, and seven rams, and
seven lambs, and seven he goats for sin, for the kingdom, for the
sanctuary, for Juda:  and he spoke to the priests the sons of Aaron, to
offer them upon the altar of the Lord.
29:22. Therefore they killed the bullocks, and the priests took the
blood, and poured it upon the altar; they killed also the rams, and
their blood they poured also upon the altar, and they killed the lambs,
and poured the blood upon the altar.
29:23. And they brought the he goats for sin before the king, and the
whole multitude, and they laid their hand upon them:
29:24. And the priests immolated them, and sprinkled their blood before
the altar for an expiation of all Israel:  for the king had commanded
that the holocaust and the sin offering should be made for all Israel.
29:25. And he set the Levites in the house of the Lord with cymbals,
and psalteries, and harps according to the regulation of David the
king, and of Gad the seer, and of Nathan the prophet:  for it was the
commandment of the Lord by the hand of his prophets.
29:26. And the Levites stood, with the instruments of David, and the
priests with trumpets.
29:27. And Ezechias commanded that they should offer holocausts upon
the altar:  and when the holocausts were offered, they began to sing
praises to the Lord, and to sound with trumpets, and divers instruments
which David the king of Israel had prepared.
29:28. And all the multitude adored, and the singers, and the
trumpeters, were in their office till the holocaust was finished.
29:29. And when the oblation was ended, the king, and all that were
with him bowed down and adored.
29:30. And Ezechias and the princes commanded the Levites to praise the
Lord with the words of David, and Asaph the seer:  and they praised him
with great joy, and bowing the knee adored.
29:31. And Ezechias added, and said:  You have filled your hands to the
Lord, come and offer victims, and praises in the house of the Lord.  And
all the multitude offered victims, and praises, and holocausts with a
devout mind.
29:32. And the number of the holocausts which the multitude offered,
was seventy bullocks, a hundred rams, and two hundred lambs.
29:33. And they consecrated to the Lord six hundred oxen, and three
thousand sheep.
29:34. But the priests were few, and were not enough to flay the
holocausts:  wherefore the Levites their brethren helped them, till the
work was ended, and priests were sanctified, for the Levites are
sanctified with an easier rite than the priests.
29:35. So there were many holocausts, and the fat of peace offerings,
and the libations of holocausts:  and the service of the house of the
Lord was completed.
29:36. And Ezechias, and all the people rejoiced because the ministry
of the Lord was accomplished.  For the resolution of doing this thing
was taken suddenly.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 30
Ezechias inviteth all Israel to celebrate the pasch; the solemnity is
kept fourteen days.
30:1. And Ezechias sent to all Israel and Juda:  and he wrote letters to
Ephraim and Manasses, that they should come to the house of the Lord in
Jerusalem, and keep the phase to the Lord the God of Israel,
30:2. For the king, taking counsel, and the princes, and all the
assembly of Jerusalem, decreed to keep the phase the second month.
30:3. For they could not keep it in its time; because there were not
priests enough sanctified, and the people was not as yet gathered
together to Jerusalem.
The host of heaven. . .The sun, moon, and stars.
30:4. And the thing pleased the king, and all the people.
30:5. And they decreed to send messengers to all Israel from Bersabee
even to Dan, that they should come, and keep the phase to the Lord the
God of Israel in Jerusalem:  for many had not kept it as it is
prescribed by the law.
30:6. And the posts went with letters by commandment of the king, and
his princes, to all Israel and Juda, proclaiming according to the
king's orders:  Ye children of Israel, turn again to the Lord the God of
Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Israel:  and he will return to the remnant
of you that have escaped the hand of the king of the Assyrians.
30:7. Be not like your fathers, and brethren, who departed from the
Lord the God of their fathers, and he hath given them up to
destruction, as you see.
30:8. Harden not your necks, as your fathers did:  yield yourselves to
the Lord, and come to his sanctuary, which he hath sanctified forever:
serve the Lord the God of your fathers, and the wrath of his
indignation shall be turned away from you.
30:9. For if you turn again to the Lord, your brethren, and children
shall find mercy before their masters, that have led them away captive,
and they shall return into this land:  for the Lord your God is
merciful, and will not turn away his face from you, if you return to
30:10. So the posts went speedily from city to city, through the land
of Ephraim, and of Manasses, even to Zabulon, whilst they laughed at
them and mocked them.
30:11. Nevertheless some men of Aser, and of Manasses, and of Zabulon,
yielding to the counsel, came to Jerusalem.
30:12. But the hand of God was in Juda, to give them one heart to do
the word of the Lord, according to the commandment of the king, and of
the princes.
30:13. And much people were assembled to Jerusalem to celebrate the
solemnity of the unleavened bread in the second month:
30:14. And they arose and destroyed the altars that were in Jerusalem,
and took away all things in which incense was burnt to idols and cast
them into the torrent Cedron.
30:15. And they immolated the phase on the fourteenth day of the second
month.  And the priests and the Levites being at length sanctified
offered holocausts in the house of the Lord.
30:16. And they stood in their order according to the disposition and
law of Moses the man of God:  but the priests received the blood which
was to be poured out, from the hands of the Levites,
30:17. Because a great number was not sanctified:  and therefore the
Levites immolated the phase for them that came not in time to be
sanctified to the Lord.
30:18. For a great part of the people from Ephraim, and Manasses, and
Issachar, and Zabulon, that had not been sanctified, ate the phase
otherwise than it is written:  and Ezechias prayed for them, saying:  The
Lord who is good will shew mercy,
30:19. To all them, who with their whole heart, seek the Lord the God
of their fathers:  and will not impute it to them that they are not
30:20. And the Lord heard him, and was merciful to the people.
30:21. And the children of Israel, that were found at Jerusalem, kept
the feast of unleavened bread seven days with great joy, praising the
Lord every day.  the Levites also, and the priests, with instruments
that agreed to their office.
30:22. And Ezechias spoke to the heart of all the Levites, that had
good understanding concerning the Lord:  and they ate during the seven
days of the solemnity, immolating victims of peace offerings, and
praising the Lord the God of their fathers.
30:23. And it pleased the whole multitude to keep other seven days:
which they did with great joy.
30:24. For Ezechias the king of Juda had given to the multitude a
thousand bullocks, and seven thousand sheep:  and the princes had given
the people a thousand bullocks, and ten thousand sheep:  and a great
number of priests was sanctified.
30:25. And all the multitude of Juda with the priests and Levites, and
all the assembly, that came out of Israel; and the proselytes of the
land of Israel, and that dwelt in Juda were full of joy.
30:26. And there was a great solemnity in Jerusalem, such as had not
been in that city since the time of Solomon the son of David king of
30:27. And the priests and the Levites rose up and blessed the people:
and their voice was heard:  and their prayer came to the holy dwelling
place of heaven.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 31
Idolatry is abolished; and provisions made for the ministers.
31:1. And when these things had been duly celebrated, all Israel that
were found in the cities of Juda, went out, and they broke the idols,
and cut down the groves, demolished the high places, and destroyed the
altars, not only out of all Juda and Benjamin, but out of Ephraim also
and Manasses, till they had utterly destroyed them:  then all the
children of Israel returned to their possessions and cities.
31:2. And Ezechias appointed companies of the priests, and the Levites,
by their courses, every man in his own office, to wit, both of the
priests, and of the Levites, for holocausts, and for peace offerings,
to minister, and to praise, and to sing in the gates of the camp of the
31:3. And the king's part was, that of his proper substance the
holocaust should be offered always morning and evening, and on the
sabbaths, and the new moons and the other solemnities, as it is written
in the law of Moses.
31:4. He commanded also the people that dwelt in Jerusalem, to give to
the priests, and the Levites their portion, that they might attend to
the law of the Lord.
31:5. Which when it was noised abroad in the ears of the people, the
children of Israel offered in abundance the firstfruits of corn, wine,
and oil, and honey:  and brought the tithe of all things which the
ground bringeth forth.
31:6. Moreover the children of Israel and Juda, that dwelt in the
cities of Juda, brought in the tithes of oxen, and sheep, and the
tithes of holy things, which they had vowed to the Lord their God:  and
carrying them all, made many heaps.
31:7. In the third month they began to lay the foundations of the
heaps, and in the seventh month, they finished them.
31:8. And when Ezechias and his princes came in, they saw the heaps,
and they blessed the Lord and the people of Israel.
31:9. And Ezechias asked the priests and the Levites, why the heaps lay
31:10. Azarias the chief priest of the race of Sadoc answered him,
saying:  Since the firstfruits began to be offered in the house of the
Lord, we have eaten, and have been filled, and abundance is left,
because the Lord hath blessed his people:  and of that which is left is
this great store which thou seest.
31:11. Then Ezechias commanded to prepare storehouses in the house of
the Lord.  And when they had done so,
31:12. They brought in faithfully both the firstfruits, and the tithes,
and all they had vowed.  And the overseer of them was Chonenias the
Levite, and Semei his brother was the second,
31:13. And after him Jehiel, and Azarias, and Nahath, and Asael, and
Jerimoth, and Jozabad, and Eliel, and Jesmachias, and Mahath, and
Banaias, overseers under the hand of Chonenias, and Semei his brother,
by the commandment of Ezechias the king, and Azarias the high priest of
the house of God, to whom all things appertained.
31:14. But Core the son of Jemna the Levite, the porter of the east
gate, was overseer of the things which were freely offered to the Lord,
and of the firstfruits and the things dedicated for the holy of holies.
31:15. And under his charge were Eden, and Benjamin, Jesue, and
Semeias, and Amarias, and Sechenias, in the cities of the priests, to
distribute faithfully portions to their brethren, both little and
31:16. Besides the males from three years old and upward, to all that
went into the temple of the Lord, and whatsoever there was need of in
the ministry, and their offices according to their courses, day by day.
31:17. To the priests by their families, and to the Levites from the
twentieth year and upward, by their classes and companies.
31:18. And to all the multitude, both to their wives, and to their
children of both sexes, victuals were given faithfully out of the
things that had been sanctified.
31:19. Also of the sons of Aaron who were in the fields and in the
suburbs of each city, there were men appointed, to distribute portions
to all the males, among the priests and the Levites.
31:20. So Ezechias did all things which we have said in all Juda, and
wrought that which was good, and right, and truth, before the Lord his
31:21. In all the service of the house of the Lord according to the law
and the ceremonies, desiring to seek his God with all his heart, and he
did it and prospered.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 32
Sennacherib invadeth Juda:  his army is destroyed by an angel.  Ezechias
recovereth from his sickness:  his other acts.
32:1. After these things, and this truth, Sennacherib king of the
Assyrians came and entered into Juda, and besieged the fenced cities,
desiring to take them.
32:2. And when Ezechias saw that Sennacherib was come, and that the whole
force of the war was turning against Jerusalem,
32:3. He took counsel with the princes, and the most valiant men, to stop
up the heads of the springs, that were without the city:  and as they
were all of this mind,
32:4. He gathered together a very great multitude, and they stopped up
all the springs, and the brook, that ran through the midst of the land,
saying:  Lest the kings of the Assyrians should come, and find abundance
32:5. He built up also with great diligence all the wall that had been
broken down, and built towers upon it, and another wall without:  and he
repaired Mello in the city of David, and made all sorts of arms and
32:6. And he appointed captains of the soldiers of the army:  and he
called them all together in the street of the gate of the city, and spoke
to their heart, saying:
32:7. Behave like men, and take courage:  be not afraid nor dismayed for
the king of the Assyrians, nor for all the multitude that is with him:
for there are many more with us than with him.
32:8. For with him is an arm of flesh:  with us the Lord our God, who is
our helper, and fighteth for us.  And the people were encouraged with
these words of Ezechias king of Juda.
32:9. After this, Sennacherib king of the Assyrians sent his servants to
Jerusalem, (for he with all his army was besieging Lachis,) to Ezechias
king of Juda, and to all the people that were in the city, saying:
32:10. Thus saith Sennacherib king of the Assyrians:  In whom do you
trust, that you sit still besieged in Jerusalem?
32:11. Doth not Ezechias deceive you, to give you up to die by hunger and
thirst, affirming that the Lord your God shall deliver you from the hand
of the king of the Assyrians?
32:12. Is it not this same Ezechias, that hath destroyed his high places,
and his altars, and commanded Juda and Jerusalem, saying:  You shall
worship before one altar, and upon it you shall burn incense?
32:13. Know you not what I and my fathers have done to all the people of
the lands?  have the gods of any nations and lands been able to deliver
their country out of my hand?
32:14. Who is there among all the gods of the nations, which my fathers
have destroyed, that could deliver his people out of my hand, that your
God should be able to deliver you out of this hand?
32:15. Therefore let not Ezechias deceive you, nor delude you with a vain
persuasion, and do not believe him.  For if no god of all the nations and
kingdoms, could deliver his people out of my hand, and out of the hand of
my fathers, consequently neither shall your God be able to deliver you
out of my hand.
32:16. And many other things did his servants speak against the Lord God,
and against Ezechias his servant.
32:17. He wrote also letters full of blasphemy against the Lord the God
of Israel, and he spoke against him:  As the gods of other nations could
not deliver their people out of my hand, so neither can the God of
Ezechias deliver his people out of this hand.
32:18. Moreover he cried out with a loud voice, in the Jews' tongue, to
the people that sat on the walls of Jerusalem, that he might frighten
them, and take the city.
32:19. And he spoke against the God of Jerusalem, as against the gods of
the people of the earth, the works of the hands of men.
32:20. And Ezechias the king, and Isaias the prophet the son of Amos,
prayed against this blasphemy, and cried out to heaven.
32:21. And the Lord sent an angel, who cut off all the stout men and the
warriors, and the captains of the army of the king of the Assyrians:  and
he returned with disgrace into his own country.  And when he was come
into the house of his god, his sons that came out of his bowels, slew him
with the sword.
32:22. And the Lord saved Ezechias and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, out
of the hand of Sennacherib king of the Assyrians, and out of the hand of
all, and gave them treasures on every side.
32:23. Many also brought victims, and sacrifices to the Lord to
Jerusalem, and presents to Ezechias king of Juda:  and he was magnified
thenceforth in the sight of all nations.
32:24. In those days Ezechias was sick even to death, and he prayed to
the Lord:  and he heard him, and gave him a sign.
32:25. But he did not render again according to the benefits which he had
received, for his heart was lifted up:  and wrath was enkindled against
him, and against Juda and Jerusalem.
32:26. And he humbled himself afterwards, because his heart had been
lifted up, both he and the inhabitants of Jerusalem:  and therefore the
wrath of the Lord came not upon them in the days of Ezechias.
32:27. And Ezechias was rich, and very glorious, and he gathered himself
great treasures of silver and of gold, and of precious stones, of spices,
and of arms, of all kinds, and of vessels of great price.
32:28. Storehouses also of corn, of wine, and of oil, and stalls for all
beasts, and folds for cattle.
32:29. And he built himself cities:  for he had flocks of sheep, and
herds without number, for the Lord had given him very much substance.
32:30. This same Ezechias was, he that stopped the upper source of the
waters of Gihon, and turned them away underneath toward the west of the
city of David:  in all his works he did prosperously what he would.
32:31. But yet in the embassy of the princes of Babylon, that were sent
to him, to inquire of the wonder that had happened upon the earth, God
left him that he might be tempted, and all things might be made known
that were in his heart.
32:32. Now the rest of the acts of Ezechias, and of his mercies are
written in the book of the kings of Juda and Israel.
32:33. And Ezechias slept with his fathers, and they buried him above the
sepulchres of the sons of David:  and all Juda, and all the inhabitants
of Jerusalem celebrated his funeral:  and Manasses his son reigned in his
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 33
Manasses for his manifold wickedness is led captive to Babylon:  he
repenteth, and is restored to his kingdom, and destroyeth idolatry:  his
successor Amon is slain by his servants.
33:1. Manasses was twelve years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned fifty-five years in Jerusalem.
33:2. And he did evil before the Lord, according to all the
abominations of the nations, which the Lord cast out before the
children of Israel:
33:3. And he turned, and built again the high places which Ezechias his
father had destroyed:  and he built altars to Baalim, and made groves,
and he adored all the host of heaven, and worshipped them.
The host of heaven. . .The sun, moon, and stars.
33:4. He built also altars in the house of the Lord, whereof the Lord
had said:  In Jerusalem shall my name be for ever.
33:5. And he built them for all the host of heaven in the two courts of
the house of the Lord.
33:6. And he made his sons to pass through the fire in the valley of
Benennom:  he observed dreams, followed divinations, gave himself up to
magic arts, had with him magicians, and enchanters:  and he wrought many
evils before the Lord, to provoke him to anger.
33:7. He set also a graven, and a molten statue in the house of God, of
which God had said to David, and to Solomon his son:  In this house, and
in Jerusalem, which I have chosen out of all the tribes of Israel, will
I put my name for ever.
33:8. And I will not make the foot of Israel to be removed out of the
land which I have delivered to their fathers:  yet so if they will take
heed to do what I have commanded them, and all the law, and the
ceremonies, and judgments by the hand of Moses.
33:9. So Manasses seduced Juda, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to do
evil beyond all the nations, which the Lord had destroyed before the
face of the children of Israel.
33:10. And the Lord spoke to his people, and they would not hearken.
33:11. Therefore he brought upon them the captains of he army of the
king of the Assyrians:  and they took Manasses, and carried him bound
with chains and fetters to Babylon.
33:12. And after that he was in distress he prayed to the Lord his God:
and did penance exceedingly before the God of his fathers.
33:13. And he entreated him, and besought him earnestly:  and he heard
his prayer, and brought him again to Jerusalem into his kingdom, and
Manasses knew that the Lord was God.
33:14. After this he built a wall without the city of David, on the
west side of Gihon in the valley, from the entering in of the gate
round about to Ophel, and raised it up to a great height:  and he
appointed captains of the army in all the fenced cities of Juda:
33:15. And he took away the strange gods, and the idol out of the house
of the Lord:  the altars also which he had made in the mount of the
house of the Lord, and in Jerusalem, and he cast them all out of the
33:16. And he repaired the altar of the Lord, and sacrificed upon it
victims, and peace offerings, and praise:  and he commanded Juda to
serve the Lord the God of Israel.
33:17. Nevertheless the people still sacrificed in the high places to
the Lord their God.
33:18. But the rest of the acts of Manasses, and his prayer to his God,
and the words of the seers that spoke to him in the name of the Lord
the God of Israel, are contained in the words of the kings of Israel.
33:19. His prayer also, and his being heard and all his sins, and
contempt, and places wherein he built high places, and set up groves,
and statues before he did penance, are written in the words of Hozai.
33:20. And Manasses slept with his fathers, and they buried him in his
house:  and his son Amon reigned in his stead.
33:21. Amon was two and twenty years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned two years in Jerusalem.
33:22. And he did evil in the sight of the Lord, as Manasses his father
had done:  he sacrificed to all the idols which Manasses his father had
made, and served them.
33:23. And he did not humble himself before the lord, as Manasses his
father had humbled himself, but committed far greater sin.
33:24. And his servants conspired against him, and slew him in his own
33:25. But the rest of the multitude of the people slew them that had
killed Amon, and made Josias his son king in his stead.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 34
Josias destroyeth idolatry, repaireth the temple, and reneweth the
covenant between God and the people.
34:1. Josias was eight years old when he began to reign, and he reigned
one and thirty years in Jerusalem.
34:2. And he did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, and
walked in the ways of David his father:  he declined not, neither to the
right hand, nor to the left.
34:3. And in the eighth year of his reign, when he was yet a boy, he
began to seek the God of his father David:  and in the twelfth year
after he began to reign, he cleansed Juda and Jerusalem from the high
places, and the groves, and the idols, and the graven things.
34:4. And they broke down before him the altars of Baalim, and
demolished the idols that had been set upon them:  and he cut down the
groves and the graven things, and broke them in pieces:  and strewed the
fragments upon the graves of them that had sacrificed to them.
34:5. And he burnt the bones of the priests on the altars of the idols,
and he cleansed Juda and Jerusalem.
34:6. And in the cities of Manasses, and of Ephraim, and of Simeon,
even to Nephtali he demolished all.
34:7. And when he had destroyed the altars, and the groves, and had
broken the idols in pieces, and had demolished all profane temples
throughout all the land of Israel, he returned to Jerusalem.
34:8. Now in the eighteenth year of his reign, when he had cleansed the
land, and the temple of the Lord, he sent Saphan the son of Elselias,
and Maasias the governor of the city, Joha the son of Joachaz the
recorder, to repair the house of the Lord his God.
34:9. And they came to Helcias the high priest:  and received of him the
money which had been brought into the house of the Lord, and which the
Levites and porters had gathered together from Manasses, and Ephraim,
and all the remnant of Israel, and from all Juda, and Benjamin, and the
inhabitants of Jerusalem,
34:10. Which they delivered into the hands of them that were over the
workmen in the house of the Lord, to repair the temple, and mend all
that was weak.
34:11. But they gave it to the artificers, and to the masons, to buy
stones out of the quarries, and timber for the couplings of the
building, and to rafter the houses, which the kings of Juda had
34:12. And they did all faithfully.  Now the overseers of the workmen
were Jahath and Abdias of the sons of Merari, Zacharias and Mosollam of
the sons of Caath, who hastened the work:  all Levites skilful to play
on instruments.
34:13. But over them that carried burdens for divers uses, were
scribes, and masters of the number of the Levites, and porters.
34:14. Now when they carried out the money that had been brought into
the temple of the Lord, Helcias the priest found the book of the law of
the Lord, by the hand of Moses.
34:15. And he said to Saphan the scribe:  I have found the book of the
law in the house of the Lord:  and he delivered it to him.
34:16. But he carried the book to the king, and told him, saying:  Lo,
all that thou hast committed to thy servants, is accomplished.
34:17. They have gathered together the silver that was found in the
house of the Lord:  and it is given to the overseers of the artificers,
and of the workmen, for divers works.
34:18. Moreover Helcias the priest gave me this book.  And he read it
before the king.
34:19. And when he had heard the words of the law, he rent his
34:20. And he commanded Helcias, and Ahicam the son of Saphan, and
Abdon the son of Micha, and Saphan the scribe, and Asaa the king's
servant, saying:
34:21. Go, and pray to the Lord for me, and for the remnant of Israel,
and Juda, concerning all the words of this book, which is found:  for
the great wrath of the Lord hath fallen upon us, because our fathers
have not kept the words of the Lord, to do all things that are written
in this book.
34:22. And Helcias and they that were sent with him by the king, went
to Olda the prophetess, the wife of Sellum the son of Thecuath, the son
of Hasra keeper of the wardrobe:  who dwelt in Jerusalem in the Second
part:  and they spoke to her the words above mentioned.
34:23. And she answered them:  Thus saith the Lord the God of Israel:
Tell the man that sent you to me:
34:24. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will bring evils upon this place,
and upon the inhabitants thereof, and all the curses that are written
in this book which they read before the king of Juda.
34:25. Because they have forsaken me, and have sacrificed to strange
gods, to provoke me to wrath with all the works of their hands,
therefore my wrath shall fail upon this place, and shall not be
34:26. But as to the king of Juda that sent you to beseech the Lord,
thus shall you say to him:  Thus saith the Lord the God of Israel:
Because thou hast heard the words of this book,
34:27. And thy heart was softened, and thou hast humbled thyself in the
sight of God for the things that are spoken against this place, and the
inhabitants of Jerusalem, and reverencing my face, hast rent thy
garments, and wept before me:  I also have heard thee, saith the Lord.
34:28. For now I will gather thee to thy fathers, and thou shalt be
brought to thy tomb in peace:  and thy eyes shall not see all the evil
that I will bring upon this place, and the inhabitants thereof.  They
therefore reported to the king all that she had said.
34:29. And he called together all the ancients of Juda and Jerusalem.
34:30. And went up to the house of the Lord, and all the men of Juda,
and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the priests and the Levites, and all
the people from the least to the greatest.  And the king read in their
hearing, in the house of the Lord, all the words of the book.
34:31. And standing up in his tribunal, he made a covenant before the
Lord to walk after him, and keep his commandments, and testimonies, and
justifications with all his heart, and with all his soul, and to do the
things that were written in that book which he had read.
34:32. And he adjured all that were found in Jerusalem and Benjamin to
do the same:  and the inhabitants of Jerusalem did according to the
covenant of the Lord the God of their fathers.
34:33. And Josias took away all the abominations out of all the
countries of the children of Israel and made all that were left in
Israel, to serve the Lord their God.  As long as he lived they departed
not from the Lord the God of their fathers.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 35
Josias celebrateth a most solemn pasch.  He is slain by the king of
35:1. And Josias kept a phase to the Lord in Jerusalem, and it was
sacrificed on the fourteenth day of the first month.
35:2. And he set the priests in their offices, and exhorted them to
minister in the house of the Lord.
35:3. And he spoke to the Levites, by whose instruction all Israel was
sanctified to the Lord, saying:  Put the ark in the sanctuary of the
temple, which Solomon the son of David king of Israel built:  for you
shall carry it no more:  but minister now to the Lord your God, and to
his people Israel.
35:4. And prepare yourselves by your houses, and families according to
your courses, as David king of Israel commanded, and Solomon his son
hath written.
35:5. And serve ye in the sanctuary by the families and companies of
35:6. And being sanctified kill the phase, and prepare your brethren,
that they may do according to the words which the Lord spoke by the
hand of Moses.
35:7. And Josias gave to all the people that were found there in the
solemnity of the phase, of lambs and of kids of the flocks, and of
other small cattle thirty thousand, and of oxen three thousand, all
these were of the king's substance.
35:8. And his princes willingly offered what they had vowed, both to
the people and to the priests and the Levites.  Moreover Helcias, and
Zacharias, and Jahiel rulers of the house of the Lord, gave to the
priests to keep the phase two thousand six hundred small cattle, and
three hundred oxen.
35:9. And Chonenias, and Semeias and Nathanael, his brethren, and
Hasabias, and Jehiel, and Jozabad princes of the Levites, gave to the
rest of the Levites to celebrate the phase five thousand small cattle,
and five hundred oxen.
35:10. And the ministry was prepared, and the priests stood in their
office:  the Levites also in their companies, according to the king's
commandment.
35:11. And the phase was immolated:  and the priests sprinkled the blood
with their hand, and the Levites flayed the holocausts:
35:12. And they separated them, to give them by the houses and families
of every one, and to be offered to the Lord, as it is written in the
book of Moses, and with the oxen they did in like manner.
35:13. And they roasted the phase with fire, according to that which is
written in the law:  but the victims of peace offerings they boiled in
caldrons, and kettles, and pots, and they distributed them speedily
among all the people.
35:14. And afterwards they made ready for themselves, and for the
priests:  for the priests were busied in offering of holocausts and the
fat until night, wherefore the Levites prepared for themselves, and for
the priests the sons of Aaron last.
35:15. And the singers the sons of Asaph stood in their order,
according to the commandment of David, and Asaph, and Heman, and
Idithun, the prophets of the king:  and the porters kept guard at every
gate, so as not to depart one moment from their service, and therefore
their brethren the Levites prepared meats for them.
35:16. So all the service of the Lord was duly accomplished that day,
both in keeping the phase and offering holocausts upon the altar of the
Lord, according to the commandment of king Josias.
35:17. And the children of Israel that were found there, kept the phase
at that time, and the feast of unleavened seven days.
35:18. There was no phase like to this in Israel, from the days of
Samuel the prophet:  neither did any of all the kings of Israel keep
such a phase as Josias kept, with the priests, and the Levites, and all
Juda, and Israel that were found, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
35:19. In the eighteenth year of the reign of Josias was this phase
35:20. After that Josias had repaired the temple, Nechao king of Egypt
came up to fight in Charcamis by the Euphrates:  and Josias went out to
35:21. But he sent messengers to him, saying:  What have I to do with
thee, O king of Juda?  I come not against thee this day, but I fight
against another house, to which God hath commanded me to go in haste:
forbear to do against God, who is with me, lest he kill thee.
35:22. Josias would not return, but prepared to fight against him, and
hearkened not to the words of Nechao from the mouth of God, but went to
fight in the field of Mageddo.
35:23. And there he was wounded by the archers, and he said to his
servants:  Carry me out of the battle, for I am grievously wounded.
35:24. And they removed him from the chariot into another, that
followed him after the manner of kings, and they carried him away to
Jerusalem, and he died, and was buried in the monument of his fathers,
and all Juda and Jerusalem mourned for him,
35:25. Particularly Jeremias:  whose lamentations for Josias all the
singing men and singing women repeat unto this day, and it became like
a law in Israel:  Behold it is found written in the Lamentations.
35:26. Now the rest of the acts of Josias and of his mercies, according
to what was commanded by the law of the Lord:
35:27. And his works first and last, are written in the book of the
kings of Juda and Israel.
2 Paralipomenon Chapter 36
The reigns of Joachaz, Joakim, Joachin, and Sedecias:  the captivity of
Babylon released at length by Cyrus.
36:1. Then the people of the land took Joachaz the son of Josias, and
made him king instead of his father in Jerusalem.
36:2. Joachaz was three and twenty years old when he began to reign,
and he reigned three months in Jerusalem.
36:3. And the king of Egypt came to Jerusalem, and deposed him, and
condemned the land in a hundred talents of silver, and a talent of
36:4. And he made Eliakim his brother king in his stead, over Juda and
Jerusalem:  and he turned his name to Joakim:  but he took Joachaz with
him and carried him away into Egypt.
36:5. Joakim was five and twenty years old when he began to reign, and
he reigned eleven years in Jerusalem:  and he did evil before the Lord
36:6. Against him came up Nabuchodonosor king of the Chaldeans, and led
him bound in chains into Babylon.
36:7. And he carried also thither the vessels of the Lord, and put them
in his temple.
36:8. But the rest of the acts of Joakim, and his abominations, which
he wrought, and the things that were found in him, are contained in the
book of the kings of Juda and Israel.  And Joachin his son reigned in
36:9. Joachin was eight years old when he began to reign, and he
reigned three months and ten days in Jerusalem, and he did evil in the
sight of the Lord.
Eight years old. . .He was associated by his father to the kingdom, when
he was but eight years old; but after his father's death, when he
reigned alone, he was eighteen years old.  4 Kings 24.8.
36:10. And at the return of the year, king Nabuchodonosor sent, and
brought him to Babylon, carrying away at the same time the most
precious vessels of the house of the Lord:  and he made Sedecias his
uncle king over Juda and Jerusalem.
36:11. Sedecias was one and twenty years old when he began to reign:
and he reigned eleven years in Jerusalem.
36:12. And he did evil in the eyes of the Lord his God, and did not
reverence the face of Jeremias the prophet speaking to him from the
mouth of the Lord.
36:13. He also revolted from king Nabuchodonosor, who had made him
swear by God:  and he hardened his neck and his heart, from returning to
the Lord the God of Israel.
36:14. Moreover all the chief of the priests, and the people wickedly
transgressed according to all the abominations of the Gentiles:  and
they defiled the house of the Lord, which he had sanctified to himself
in Jerusalem.
36:15. And the Lord the God of their fathers sent to them, by the hand
of his messengers, rising early, and daily admonishing them:  because he
spared his people and his dwelling place.
36:16. But they mocked the messengers of God, and despised his words,
and misused the prophets, until the wrath of the Lord arose against his
people, and there was no remedy.
36:17. For he brought upon them the king of the Chaldeans, and he slew
their young men with the sword in the house of his sanctuary, he had no
compassion on young man, or maiden, old man or even him that stooped
for age, but he delivered them all into his hands.
36:18. And all the vessels of the house of Lord, great and small, and
the treasures of the temple and of the king, and of the princes he
carried away to Babylon.
36:19. And the enemies set fire to the house of God, and broke down the
wall of Jerusalem, burnt all the towers, and what soever was precious
they destroyed.
36:20. Whosoever escaped the sword, was led into Babylon, and there
served the king and his sons, till the reign of the king of Persia,
36:21. That the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremias might be
fulfilled, and the land might keep her sabbaths:  for all the days of
the desolation she kept a sabbath, till the seventy years were expired.
36:22. But in the first year of Cyrus king of the Persians, to fulfil
the word of the Lord, which he had spoken by the mouth of Jeremias, the
Lord stirred up the heart of Cyrus, king of the Persians:  who commanded
it to be proclaimed through all his kingdom, and by writing also,
36:23. Thus saith Cyrus king of the Persians:  All the kingdoms of the
earth hath the Lord the God of heaven given to me, and he hath charged
me to build him a house in Jerusalem, which is in Judea:  who is there
among you of all his people?  The Lord his God be with him, and let him
THE FIRST BOOK OF ESDRAS
This Book taketh its name from the writer:  who was a holy priest, and
doctor of the law.  He is called by the Hebrews, Ezra.
1 Esdras Chapter 1
Cyrus king of Persia releaseth God's people from their captivity, with
license to return and build the temple in Jerusalem:  and restoreth the
holy vessels which Nabuchodonosor had taken from thence.
1:1. In the first year of Cyrus king of the Persians, that the word of
the Lord by the mouth of Jeremias might be fulfilled, the Lord stirred
up the spirit of Cyrus king of the Persians:  and he made a proclamation
throughout all his kingdom, and in writing also, saying:
1:2. Thus saith Cyrus king of the Persians:  The Lord the God of heaven
hath given to me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he hath charged me
to build him a house in Jerusalem, which is in Judea.
1:3. Who is there among you of all his people?  His God be with him.  Let
him go up to Jerusalem, which is in Judea, and build the house of the
Lord the God of Israel:  he is the God that is in Jerusalem.
1:4. And let all the rest in all places wheresoever they dwell, help
him every man from his place, with silver and gold, and goods, and
cattle, besides that which they offer freely to the temple of God,
which is in Jerusalem.
1:5. Then rose up the chief of the fathers of Juda and Benjamin, and
the priests, and Levites, and every one whose spirit God had raised up,
to go up to build the temple of the Lord, which was in Jerusalem.
1:6. And all they that were round about, helped their hands with
vessels of silver, and gold, with goods, and with beasts, and with
furniture, besides what they had offered on their own accord.
1:7. And king Cyrus brought forth vessels of the temple of the Lord,
which Nabuchodonosor had taken from Jerusalem, and had put them in the
temple of his god.
1:8. Now Cyrus king of Persia brought them forth by the hand of
Mithridates the son of Gazabar, and numbered them to Sassabasar the
prince of Juda.
1:9. And this is the number of them:  thirty bowls of gold, a thousand
bowls of silver, nine and twenty knives, thirty cups of gold,
1:10. Silver cups of a second sort, four hundred and ten:  other vessels
1:11. All the vessels of gold and silver, five thousand four hundred:
all these Sassabasar brought with them that came up from the captivity
of Babylon to Jerusalem.
1 Esdras Chapter 2
The number of them that returned to Judea:  their oblations.
2:1. Now these are the children of the province, that went out of the
captivity, which Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon had carried away to
Babylon, and who returned to Jerusalem and Juda, every man to his city.
2:2. Who came with Zorobabel, Josue, Nehemia, Saraia, Rahelaia,
Mardochai, Belsan, Mesphar, Beguai, Rehum, Baana.  The number of the men
of the people of Israel:
2:3. The children of Pharos two thousand one hundred seventy-two.
2:4. The children of Sephatia, three hundred seventy-two.
2:5. The children of Area, seven hundred seventy-five.
2:6. The children of Phahath Moab, of the children of Josue:  Joab, Two
thousand eight hundred twelve.
2:7. The children of Elam, a thousand two hundred fifty-four.
2:8. The children of Zethua, nine hundred forty-five.
2:9. The children of Zachai, seven hundred sixty.
2:10. The children of Bani, six hundred forty-two.
2:11. The children of Bebai, six hundred twenty-three.
2:12. The children of Azgad, a thousand two hundred twenty-two.
2:13. The children of Adonicam, six hundred sixty-six.
2:14. The children of Beguai, two thousand fifty-six.
2:15. The children of Adin, four hundred fifty-four.
2:16. The children of Ather, who were of Ezechias, ninety-eight.
2:17. The children of Besai, three hundred and twenty-three.
2:18. The children of Jora, a hundred and twelve.
2:19. The children of Hasum, two hundred twenty-three.
2:20. The children of Gebbar, ninety-five.
2:21. The children of Bethlehem, a hundred twenty-three.
2:22. The men of Netupha, fifty-six.
2:23. The men of Anathoth, a hundred twenty-eight.
2:24. The children of Azmaveth, forty-two.
2:25. The children of Cariathiarim, Cephira, and Beroth, seven hundred
forty-three.
2:26. The children of Rama and Gabaa, six hundred twenty-one.
2:27. The men of Machmas, a hundred twenty-two.
2:28. The men of Bethel and Hai, two hundred twenty-three.
2:29. The children of Nebo, fifty-two.
2:30. The children of Megbis, a hundred fifty-six.
2:31. The children of the other Elam, a thousand two hundred
2:32. The children of Harim, three hundred and twenty.
2:33. The children of Lod, Hadid and Ono, seven hundred twenty-five.
2:34. The children of Jericho, three hundred forty-five.
2:35. The children of Senaa, three thousand six hundred thirty.
2:36. The priests:  the children of Jadaia of the house of Josue, nine
hundred seventy-three.
2:37. The children of Emmer, a thousand fifty-two.
2:38. The children of Pheshur, a thousand two hundred forty-seven.
2:39. The children of Harim, a thousand and seventeen.
2:40. The Levites:  the children of Josue and of Cedmihel, the children
of Odovia, seventy-four.
2:41. The singing men:  the children of Asaph, a hundred twenty-eight.
2:42. The children of the porters:  the children of Sellum, the children
of Ater, the children of Telmon, the children of Accub, the children of
Hatita, the children of Sobai:  in all a hundred thirty-nine.
2:43. The Nathinites:  the children of Siha, the children of Hasupha,
the children of Tabbaoth,
2:44. The children of Ceros, the children of Sia, the children of
2:45. The children of Lebana, the children of Hegaba, the children of
2:46. The children of Hagab, the children of Semlai, the children of
2:47. The children of Gaddel, the children of Gaher, the children of
2:48. The children of Rasin, the children of Necoda, the children of
2:49. The children of Asa, the children of Phasea, the children of
2:50. The children of Asena, the children of Munim, the children of
2:51. The children of Bacbuc, the children of Hacupha, the children of
2:52. The children of Besluth, the children of Mahida, the children of
2:53. The children of Bercos, the children of Sisara, the children of
2:54. The children of Nasia, the children of Hatipha,
2:55. The children of the servants of Solomon, the children of Sotai,
the children of Sopheret, the children of Pharuda,
2:56. The children of Jala, the children of Dercon, the children of
2:57. The children of Saphatia, the children of Hatil, the children of
Phochereth, which were of Asebaim, the children of Ami,
2:58. All the Nathinites, and the children of the servants of Solomon,
three hundred ninety-two.
2:59. And these are they that came up from Thelmela, Thelharsa, Cherub,
and Adon, and Emer.  And they could not shew the house of their fathers
and their seed, whether they were of Israel.
2:60. The children of Dalaia, the children of Tobia, the children of
Necoda, six hundred fifty-two.
2:61. And of the children of the priests:  the children of Hobia, the
children of Accos, the children of Berzellai, who took a wife of the
daughters of Berzellai, the Galaadite, and was called by their name:
2:62. These sought the writing of their genealogy, and found it not,
and they were cast out of the priesthood.
2:63. And Athersatha said to them, that they should not eat of the holy
of holies, till there arose a priest learned and perfect.
2:64. All the multitudes as one man, were forty-two thousand three
hundred and sixty:
Forty-two thousand, etc. . .Those who are reckoned up above of the
tribes of Juda, Benjamin, and Levi, fall short of this number.  The
rest, who must be taken in to make up the whole sum, were of the other
2:65. Besides their menservants, and womenservants, of whom there were
seven thousand three hundred and thirty-seven:  and among them singing
men, and singing women two hundred.
2:66. Their horses seven hundred thirty-six, their mules two hundred
2:67. Their camels four hundred thirty-five, their asses six thousand
seven hundred and twenty.
2:68. And some of the chief of the fathers, when they came to the
temple of the Lord, which is in Jerusalem, offered freely to the house
of the Lord to build it in its place.
2:69. According to their ability, they gave towards the expenses of the
work, sixty-one thousand solids of gold, five thousand pounds of
silver, and a hundred garments for the priests.
2:70. So the priests and the Levites, and some of the people, and the
singing men, and the porters, and the Nathinites dwelt in their cities,
and all Israel in their cities.
1 Esdras Chapter 3
An altar is built for sacrifice, the feast of tabernacles is solemnly
celebrated, and the foundations of the temple are laid.
3:1. And now the seventh month was come, and the children of Israel
were in their cities:  and the people gathered themselves together as
one man to Jerusalem.
3:2. And Josue the son of Josedec rose up, and his brethren the
priests, and Zorobabel the son of Salathiel, and his brethren, and they
built the altar of the God of Israel that they might offer holocausts
upon it, as it is written in the law of Moses the man of God.
Josue. . .or Jesus (Jeshua) the son of Josedec; he was the high priest,
at that time.
3:3. And they set the altar of God upon its bases, while the people of
the lands round about put them in fear, and they offered upon it a
holocaust to the Lord morning and evening.
3:4. And they kept the feast of tabernacles, as it is written, and
offered the holocaust every day orderly according to the commandment,
the duty of the day in its day.
3:5. And afterwards the continual holocaust, both on the new moons, and
on all the solemnities of the Lord, that were consecrated, and on all
in which a freewill offering was made to the Lord.
3:6. From the first day of the seventh month they began to offer
holocausts to the Lord:  but the temple of God was not yet founded.
3:7. And they gave money to hewers of stones and to masons:  and meat
and drink, and oil to the Sidonians and Tyrians, to bring cedar trees
from Libanus to the sea of Joppe, according to the orders which Cyrus
king of the Persians had given them.
3:8. And in the second year of their coming to the temple of God in
Jerusalem, the second month, Zorobabel the son of Salathiel, and Josue
the son of Josedec, and the rest of their brethren the priests, and the
Levites, and all that were come from the captivity to Jerusalem began,
and they appointed Levites from twenty years old and upward, to hasten
forward the work of the Lord.
3:9. Then Josue and his sons and his brethren, Cedmihel, and his sons,
and the children of Juda, as one man, stood to hasten them that did the
work in the temple of God:  the sons of Henadad, and their sons, and
their brethren the Levites.
3:10. And when the masons laid the foundations of the temple of the
Lord, the priests stood in their ornaments with trumpets:  and the
Levites the sons of Asaph with cymbals, to praise God by the hands of
David king of Israel.
3:11. And they sung together hymns, and praise to the Lord:  because he
is good, for his mercy endureth for ever towards Israel.  And all the
people shouted with a great shout, praising the Lord, because the
foundations of the temple of the Lord were laid.
3:12. But many of the priests and the Levites, and the chief of the
fathers and the ancients that had seen the former temple; when they had
the foundation of this temple before their eyes, wept with a loud
voice:  and many shouting for joy, lifted up their voice.
3:13. So that one could not distinguish the voice of the shout of joy,
from the noise of the weeping of the people:  for one with another the
people shouted with a loud shout, and the voice was heard afar off.
1 Esdras Chapter 4
The Samaritans by their letter to the king hinder the building.
4:1. Now the enemies of Juda and Benjamin heard that the children of
the captivity were building a temple to the Lord the God of Israel.
4:2. And they came to Zorobabel, and the chief of the fathers, and said
to them:  Let us build with you, for we seek your God as ye do:  behold
we have sacrificed to him, since the days of Asor Haddan king of
Assyria, who brought us hither.
4:3. But Zorobabel, and Josue, and the rest of the chief of the fathers
of Israel said to them:  You have nothing to do with us to build a house
to our God, but we ourselves alone will build to the Lord our God, as
Cyrus king of the Persians hath commanded us.
4:4. Then the people of the land hindered the hands of the people of
Juda, and troubled them in building.
4:5. And they hired counsellors against them, to frustrate their design
all the days of Cyrus king of Persia, even until the reign of Darius
king of the Persians.
4:6. And in the reign of Assuerus, in the beginning of his reign, they
wrote an accusation against the inhabitants of Juda and Jerusalem.
Assuerus. . .Otherwise called Cambyses the son and successor of Cyrus.
He is also in the following verse named Artaxerxes, a name common to
almost all the kings of Persia.
4:7. And in the days of Artaxerxes, Beselam, Mithridates, and Thabeel,
and the rest that were in the council wrote to Artaxerxes king of the
Persians:  and the letter of accusation was written in Syrian, and was
read in the Syrian tongue.
4:8. Reum Beelteem, and Samsai the scribe wrote a letter from Jerusalem
to king Artaxerxes, in this manner:
4:9. Reum Beelteem, and Samsai the scribe and the rest of their
counsellors, the Dinites, and the Apharsathacites, the Therphalites,
the Apharsites, the Erchuites, the Babylonians, the Susanechites, the
Dievites, and the Elamites,
4:10. And the rest of the nations, whom the great and glorious
Asenaphar brought over:  and made to dwell in the cities of Samaria and
in the rest of the countries of this side of the river in peace.
4:11. (This is the copy of the letter, which they sent to him:) To
Artaxerxes the king, thy servants, the men that are on this side of the
river, send greeting.
4:12. Be it known to the king, that the Jews, who came up from thee to
us, are come to Jerusalem a rebellious and wicked city, which they are
building, setting up the ramparts thereof and repairing the walls.
4:13. And now be it known to the king, that if this city be built up,
and the walls thereof repaired, they will not pay tribute nor toll, nor
yearly revenues, and this loss will fall upon the kings.
4:14. But we remembering the salt that we have eaten in the palace, and
because we count it a crime to see the king wronged, have therefore
sent and certified the king,
4:15. That search may be made in the books of the histories of thy
fathers, and thou shalt find written in the records:  and shalt know
that this city is a rebellious city, and hurtful to the kings and
provinces, and that wars were raised therein of old time:  for which
cause also the city was destroyed.
4:16. We certify the king, that if this city be built, and the walls
thereof repaired, thou shalt have no possession on this side of the
4:17. The king sent word to Reum Beelteem and Samsai the scribe, and to
the rest that were in their council, inhabitants of Samaria, and to the
rest beyond the river, sending greeting and peace.
4:18. The accusation, which you have sent to us, hath been plainly read
4:19. And I commanded:  and search hath been made, and it is found, that
this city of old time hath rebelled against kings, and seditions and
wars have been raised therein.
4:20. For there have been powerful kings in Jerusalem, who have had
dominion over all the country that is beyond the river:  and have
received tribute, and toll and revenues.
4:21. Now therefore hear the sentence:  Hinder those men, that this city
be not built, till further orders be given by me.
4:22. See that you be not negligent in executing this, lest by little
and little the evil grow to the hurt of the kings.
4:23. Now the copy of the edict of king Artaxerxes was read before Reum
Beelteem, and Samsai the scribe, and their counsellors:  and they went
up in haste to Jerusalem to the Jews, and hindered them with arm and
4:24. Then the work of the house of the Lord in Jerusalem was
interrupted, and ceased till the second year of the reign of Darius
king of the Persians.
1 Esdras Chapter 5
By the exhortation of Aggeus, and Zacharias, the people proceed in
building the temple.  Which their enemies strive in vain to hinder.
5:1. Now Aggeus the prophet, and Zacharias the son of Addo, prophesied
to the Jews that were in Judea and Jerusalem, in the name of the God of
5:2. Then rose up Zorobabel the son of Salathiel, and Josue the son of
Josedec, and began to build the temple of God in Jerusalem, and with
them were the prophets of God helping them.
5:3. And at the same time came to them Thathanai, who was governor
beyond the river, and Stharbuzanai, and their counsellors:  and said
thus to them:  Who hath given you counsel to build this house, and to
repair the walls thereof?
5:4. In answer to which we gave them the names of the men who were the
promoters of that building.
5:5. But the eye of their God was upon the ancients of the Jews, and
they could not hinder them.  And it was agreed that the matter should be
referred to Darius, and then they should give satisfaction concerning
that accusation.
5:6. The copy of the letter that Thathanai governor of the country
beyond the river, and Stharbuzanai, and his counsellors the
Arphasachites, who dwelt beyond the river, sent to Darius the king.
5:7. The letter which they sent him, was written thus:  To Darius the
king all peace.
5:8. Be it known to the king, that we went to the province of Judea, to
the house of the great God, which they are building with unpolished
stones, and timber is laid in the walls:  and this work is carried on
diligently and advanceth in their hands.
5:9. And we asked those ancients, and said to them thus:  Who hath given
you authority to build this house, and to repair these walls?
5:10. We asked also of them their names, that we might give thee
notice:  and we have written the names of the men that are the chief
5:11. And they answered us in these words, saying:  We are the servants
of the God of heaven and earth, and we are building a temple that was
built these many years ago, and which a great king of Israel built and
5:12. But after that our fathers had provoked the God of heaven to
wrath, he delivered them into the hands of Nabuchodonosor the king of
Babylon the Chaldean:  and he destroyed this house, and carried away the
people to Babylon.
5:13. But in the first year of Cyrus the king of Babylon, king Cyrus
set forth a decree, that this house of God should be built.
5:14. And the vessels also of gold and silver of the temple of God,
which Nabuchodonosor had taken out of the temple, that was in
Jerusalem, and had brought them to the temple of Babylon, king Cyrus
brought out of the temple of Babylon, and they were delivered to one
Sassabasar, whom also he appointed governor,
5:15. And said to him:  Take these vessels, and go, and put them in the
temple that is in Jerusalem, and let the house of God be built in its
5:16. Then came this same Sassabasar, and laid the foundations of the
temple of God in Jerusalem, and from that time until now it is in
building, and is not yet finished.
5:17. Now therefore if it seem good to the king, let him search in the
king's library, which is in Babylon, whether it hath been decreed by
Cyrus the king, that the house of God in Jerusalem should be built, and
let the king send his pleasure to us concerning this matter.
1 Esdras Chapter 6
King Darius favoureth the building and contributeth to it.
6:1. Then king Darius gave orders, and they searched in the library of
the books that were laid up in Babylon,
6:2. And there was found in Ecbatana, which is a castle in the province
of Media, a book in which this record was written.
6:3. In the first year of Cyrus the king:  Cyrus the king decreed, that
the house of God should be built, which is in Jerusalem, in the place
where they may offer sacrifices, and that they lay the foundations that
may support the height of threescore cubits, and the breadth of
threescore cubits,
6:4. Three rows of unpolished stones, and so rows of new timber:  and
the charges shall be given out of the king's house.
6:5. And also let the golden and silver vessels of the temple of God,
which Nabuchodonosor took out of the temple of Jerusalem, and brought
to Babylon, be restored, and carried back to the temple of Jerusalem to
their place, which also were placed in the temple of God.
6:6. Now therefore Thathanai, governor of the country beyond the river,
Stharbuzanai, and your counsellors the Apharsachites, who are beyond
the river, depart far from them,
6:7. And let that temple of God be built by the governor of the Jews,
and by their ancients, that they may build that house of God in its
6:8. I also have commanded what must be done by those ancients of the
Jews, that the house of God may be built, to wit, that of the king's
chest, that is, of the tribute that is paid out of the country beyond
the river, the charges be diligently given to those men, lest the work
be hindered.
6:9. And if it shall be necessary, let calves also, and lambs, and
kids, for holocausts to the God of heaven, wheat, salt, wine, and oil,
according to the custom of the priests that are in Jerusalem, be given
them day by day, that there be no complaint in any thing.
6:10. And let them offer oblations to the God of heaven, and pray for
the life of the king, and of his children.
6:11. And I have made a decree:  That if any whosoever, shall alter this
commandment, a beam be taken from his house, and set up, and he be
nailed upon it, and his house be confiscated.
6:12. And may the God, that hath caused his name to dwell there,
destroy all kingdoms, and the people that shall put out their hand to
resist, and to destroy the house of God, that is in Jerusalem.  I Darius
have made the decree, which I will have diligently complied with.
6:13. So then Thathanai, governor of the country beyond the river, and
Stharbuzanai, and his counsellors diligently executed what Darius the
king had commanded.
6:14. And the ancients of the Jews built, and prospered according to
the prophecy of Aggeus the prophet, and of Zacharias the son of Addo:
and they built and finished, by the commandment of the God of Israel,
and by the commandment of Cyrus, and Darius, and Artaxerxes kings of
the Persians.
6:15. And they were finishing this house of God, until the third day of
the month of Adar, which was in the sixth year of the reign of king
6:16. And the children of Israel, the priests and the Levites, and the
rest of the children of the captivity kept the dedication of the house
of God with joy.
6:17. And they offered at the dedication of the house of God, a hundred
calves, two hundred rams, four hundred lambs, and for a sin offering
for all Israel twelve he goats, according to the number of the tribes
6:18. And they set the priests in their divisions, and the Levites in
their courses over the works of God in Jerusalem, as it is written in
the book of Moses.
6:19. And the children of Israel of the captivity kept the phase, on
the fourteenth day of the first month.
6:20. For all the priests and the Levites were purified as one man:  all
were clean to kill the phase for all the children of the captivity, and
for their brethren the priests, and themselves.
6:21. And the children of Israel that were returned from captivity, and
all that had separated themselves from the filthiness of the nations of
the earth to them, to seek the Lord the God of Israel, did eat.
6:22. And they kept the feast of unleavened bread seven days with joy,
for the Lord had made them joyful, and had turned the heart of the king
of Assyria to them, that he should help their hands in the work of the
house of the Lord the God of Israel.
1 Esdras Chapter 7
Esdras goeth up to Jerusalem to teach, and assist the people, with a
gracious decree of Artaxerxes.
7:1. Now after these things in the reign of Artaxerxes king of the
Persians, Esdras the son of Saraias, the son of Azarias, the son of
7:2. The son of Sellum, the son of Sadoc, the son of Achitob,
7:3. The son of Amarias, the son of Azarias, the son of Maraioth,
7:4. The son of Zarahias, the son of Ozi, the son of Bocci,
7:5. The son of Abisue, the son of Phinees, the son of Eleazar, the son
of Aaron, the priest from the beginning.
7:6. This Esdras went up from Babylon, and he was a ready scribe in the
law of Moses, which the Lord God had given to Israel:  and the king
granted him all his request, according to the hand of the Lord his God
7:7. And there went up some of the children of Israel, and of the
children of the priests, and of the children of the Levites, and of the
singing men, and of the porters, and of the Nathinites to Jerusalem in
the seventh year of Artaxerxes the king.
7:8. And they came to Jerusalem in the fifth month, in the seventh year
of the king.
7:9. For upon the first day of the first month he began to go up from
Babylon, and on the first day of the fifth month he came to Jerusalem
according to the good hand of his God upon him.
7:10. For Esdras had prepared his heart to seek the law of the Lord,
and to do and to teach in Israel the commandments and judgment.
7:11. And this is the copy of the letter of the edict, which king
Artaxerxes gave to Esdras the priest, the scribe instructed in the
words and commandments of the Lord, and his ceremonies in Israel.
7:12. Artaxerxes king of kings to Esdras the priest, the most learned
scribe of the law of the God of heaven, greeting.
7:13. It is decreed by me, that all they of the people of Israel, and
of the priests and of the Levites in my realm, that are minded to go
into Jerusalem, should go with thee.
7:14. For thou art sent from before the king, and his seven
counsellors, to visit Judea and Jerusalem according to the law of thy
God, which is in thy hand.
7:15. And to carry the silver and gold, which the king and his
counsellors have freely offered to the God of Israel, whose tabernacle
is in Jerusalem.
7:16. And all the silver and gold that thou shalt find in all the
province of Babylon, and that the people is willing to offer, and that
the priests shall offer of their own accord to the house of their God,
which is in Jerusalem,
7:17. Take freely, and buy diligently with this money, calves, rams,
lambs, with the sacrifices and libations of them, and offer them upon
the altar of the temple of your God, that is in Jerusalem.
7:18. And if it seem good to thee, and to thy brethren to do any thing
with the rest of the silver and gold, do it according to the will of
7:19. The vessels also, that are given thee for the sacrifice of the
house of thy God, deliver thou in the sight of God in Jerusalem.
7:20. And whatsoever more there shall be need of for the house of thy
God, how much soever thou shalt have occasion to spend, it shall be
given out of the treasury, and the king's exchequer, and by me.
7:21. I Artaxerxes the king have ordered and decreed to all the keepers
of the public chest, that are beyond the river, that whatsoever Esdras
the priest, the scribe of the law of the God of heaven, shall require
of you, you give it without delay,
7:22. Unto a hundred talents of silver, and unto a hundred cores of
wheat, and unto a hundred bates of wine, and unto a hundred bates of
oil, and salt without measure.
7:23. All that belongeth to the rites of the God of heaven, let it be
given diligently in the house of the God of heaven:  lest his wrath
should be enkindled against the realm of the king, and of his sons.
7:24. We give you also to understand concerning all the priests, and
the Levites, and the singers, and the porters, and the Nathinites, and
ministers of the house of this God, that you have no authority to
impose toll or tribute, or custom upon them.
7:25. And thou Esdras according to the wisdom of thy God, which is in
thy hand, appoint judges and magistrates, that may judge all the
people, that is beyond the river, that is, for them who know the law of
thy God, yea and the ignorant teach ye freely.
7:26. And whosoever will not do the law of thy God, and the law of the
king diligently, judgment shall be executed upon him, either unto
death, or unto banishment, or to the confiscation of goods, or at least
7:27. Blessed be the Lord the God of our fathers, who hath put this in
the king's heart, to glorify the house of the Lord, which is in
7:28. And hath inclined his mercy toward me before the king and his
counsellors, and all the mighty princes of the king:  and I being
strengthened by the hand of the Lord my God, which was upon me,
gathered together out of Israel chief men to go up with me.
1 Esdras Chapter 8
The companions of Esdras.  The fast which he appointed.  They bring the
holy vessels into the temple.
8:1. Now these are the chief of families, and the genealogy of them,
who came up with me from Babylon in the reign of Artaxerxes the king.
8:2. Of the sons of Phinees, Gersom.  Of the sons of Ithamar, Daniel.  Of
the sons of David, Hattus.
8:3. Of the sons of Sechenias, the son of Pharos, Zacharias, and with
him were numbered a hundred and fifty men.
8:4. Of the sons of Phahath Moab, Eleoenai the son of Zareha, and with
him two hundred men.
8:5. Of the sons of Sechenias, the son of Ezechiel, and with him three
hundred men.
8:6. Of the sons of Adan, Abed the son of Jonathan, and with him fifty
8:7. Of the sons of Alam, Isaias the son of Athalias, and with him
seventy men.
8:8. Of the sons of Saphatia:  Zebodia the son of Michael, and with him
8:9. Of the sons of Joab, Obedia the son of Jahiel, and with him two
hundred and eighteen men.
8:10. Of the sons of Selomith, the son of Josphia, and with him a
hundred and sixty men.
8:11. Of the sons of Bebai, Zacharias the son of Bebai:  and with him
eight and twenty men.
8:12. Of the sons of Azgad, Joanan the son of Eccetan, and with him a
hundred and ten men.
8:13. Of the sons of Adonicam, who were the last:  and these are their
names:  Eliphelet, and Jehiel, and Samaias, and with them sixty men.
8:14. Of the sons of Begui, Uthai and Zachur, and with them seventy
8:15. And I gathered them together to the river, which runneth down to
Ahava, and we stayed there three days:  and I sought among the people
and among the priests for the sons of Levi, and found none there.
8:16. So I sent Eliezer, and Ariel, and Semeias, and Elnathan, and
Jarib, and another Elnathan, and Nathan, and Zacharias, and Mosollam,
chief men:  and Joiarib, and Elnathan, wise men.
8:17. And I sent them to Eddo, who is chief in the place of Chasphia,
and I put in their mouth the words that they should speak to Eddo, and
his brethren the Nathinites in the place of Chasphia, that they should
bring us ministers of the house of our God.
8:18. And by the good hand of our God upon us, they brought us a most
learned man of the sons of Moholi the son of Levi the son of Israel,
and Sarabias and his sons, and his brethren eighteen,
8:19. And Hasabias, and with him Isaias of the sons of Merari, and his
brethren, and his sons twenty.
8:20. And of the Nathinites, whom David, and the princes gave for the
service of the Levites, Nathinites two hundred and twenty:  all these
were called by their names.
8:21. And I proclaimed there a fast by the river Ahava, that we might
afflict ourselves before the Lord our God, and might ask of him a right
way for us and for our children, and for all our substance.
And I proclaimed a fast. . .It is not enough to part from Babylon, that
is, figuratively from sin, but we must also do works of penance; and
therefore Esdras here proclaimed an extraordinary fast to those that
were come from captivity.  This shews that fasting was commanded and
practised from the earliest times.
8:22. For I was ashamed to ask the king for aid and for horsemen, to
defend us from the enemy in the way:  because we had said to the king:
The hand of our God is upon all them that seek him in goodness:  and his
power and strength, and wrath upon all them that forsake him.
8:23. And we fasted, and besought our God for this:  and it fell out
prosperously unto us.
8:24. And I separated twelve of the chief of the priests, Sarabias, and
Hasabias, and with them ten of their brethren,
8:25. And I weighed unto them the silver and gold, and the vessels
consecrated for the house of our God, which the king and his
counsellors, and his princes, and all Israel, that were found had
8:26. And I weighed to their hands six hundred and fifty talents of
silver, and a hundred vessels of silver, and a hundred talents of gold,
8:27. And twenty cups of gold, of a thousand solids, and two vessels of
the best shining brass, beautiful as gold.
8:28. And I said to them:  You are the holy ones of the Lord, and the
vessels are holy, and the silver and gold, that is freely offered to
the Lord the God of our fathers.
8:29. Watch ye and keep them, till you deliver them by weight before
the chief of the priests, and of the Levites, and the heads of the
families of Israel in Jerusalem, into the treasure of the house of the
8:30. And the priests and the Levites received the weight of the silver
and gold, and the vessels, to carry them to Jerusalem to the house of
8:31. Then we set forward from the river Ahava on the twelfth day of
the first month to go to Jerusalem:  and the hand of our God was upon
us, and delivered us from the hand of the enemy, and of such as lay in
wait by the way.
8:32. And we came to Jerusalem, and we stayed there three days.
8:33. And on the fourth day the silver and the gold, and the vessels
were weighed in the house of our God by the hand of Meremoth the son of
Urias the priest, and with him was Eleazar the son of Phinees, and with
them Jozabad the son of Josue, and Noadaia the son of Benoi, Levites.
8:34. According to the number and weight of everything:  and all the
weight was written at that time.
8:35. Moreover the children of them that had been carried away that
were come out of the captivity, offered holocausts to the God of
Israel, twelve calves for all the people of Israel, ninety-six rams,
seventy-seven lambs, and twelve he goats for sin:  all for a holocaust
to the Lord.
8:36. And they gave the king's edicts to the lords that were from the
king's court, and the governors beyond the river, and they furthered
the people and the house of God.
1 Esdras Chapter 9
Esdras mourneth for the transgression of the people:  his confession and
9:1. And after these things were accomplished, the princes came to me,
saying:  The people of Israel, and the priests and Levites have not
separated themselves from the people of the lands, and from their
abominations, namely, of the Chanaanites, and the Hethites, and the
Pherezites, and the Jebusites, and the Ammonites, and the Moabites, and
the Egyptians, and the Amorrhites.
This shows how sinful it is to intermarry with those that the Church
forbids us, on account of the danger of perversion and falling off from
the true faith.
9:2. For they have taken of their daughters for themselves and for
their sons, and they have mingled the holy seed with the people of the
lands.  And the hand of the princes and magistrates hath been first in
this transgression.
9:3. And when I had heard this word, I rent my mantle and my coat, and
plucked off the hairs of my head and my beard, and I sat down mourning.
9:4. And there were assembled to me all that feared the God of Israel,
because of the transgression of those that were come from the
captivity, and I sat sorrowful, until the evening sacrifice.
9:5. And at the evening sacrifice I rose up from my affliction, and
having rent my mantle and my garment, I fell upon my knees, and spread
out my hands to the Lord my God,
9:6. And said:  My God I am confounded and ashamed to lift up my face to
thee:  for our iniquities are multiplied over our heads, and our sins
are grown up even unto heaven,
9:7. From the days of our fathers:  and we ourselves also have sinned
grievously unto this day, and for our iniquities we and our kings, and
our priests have been delivered into the hands of the kings of the
lands, and to the sword, and to captivity, and to spoil, and to
confusion of face, as it is at this day.
9:8. And now as a little, and for a moment has our prayer been made
before the Lord our God, to leave us a remnant, and give us a pin in
his holy place, and that our God would enlighten our eyes, and would
give us a little life in our bondage.
A pin. . .or nail, here signifies a small settlement or holding; which
Esdras begs for, to preserve even a part of the people, who, by their
great iniquity had incurred the anger of God.
9:9. For we are bondmen, and in our bondage our God hath not forsaken
us, but hath extended mercy upon us before the king of the Persians, to
give us life, and to set up the house of our God, and to rebuild the
desolations thereof, and to give us a fence in Juda and Jerusalem.
9:10. And now, O our God, what shall we say after this?  for we have
forsaken thy commandments,
9:11. Which thou hast commanded by the hand of thy servants the
prophets, saying:  The land which you go to possess, is an unclean land,
according to the uncleanness of the people, and of other lands, with
their abominations, who have filled it from mouth to mouth with their
9:12. Now therefore give not your daughters to their sons, and take not
their daughters for your sons, and seek not their peace, nor their
prosperity for ever:  that you may be strengthened, and may eat the good
things of the land, and may have your children your heirs for ever.
9:13. And after all that is come upon us, for our most wicked deeds,
and our great sin, seeing that thou our God hast saved us from our
iniquity, and hast given us a deliverance as at this day,
9:14. That we should not turn away, nor break thy commandments, nor
join in marriage with the people of these abominations.  Art thou angry
with us unto utter destruction, not to leave us a remnant to be saved?
9:15. O Lord God of Israel, thou art just:  for we remain yet to be
saved as at this day.  Behold we are before thee in our sin, for there
can be no standing before thee in this matter.
1 Esdras Chapter 10
Order is given for discharging strange women:  the names of the guilty.
10:1. Now when Esdras was thus praying, and beseeching, and weeping,
and lying before the temple of God, there was gathered to him of Israel
an exceeding great assembly of men and women and children, and the
people wept with much lamentation.
10:2. And Sechenias the son of Jehiel of the sons of Elam answered, and
said to Esdras:  We have sinned against our God, and have taken strange
wives of the people of the land:  and now if there be repentance in
Israel concerning this,
10:3. Let us make a covenant with the Lord our God, to put away all the
wives, and such as are born of them, according to the will of the Lord,
and of them that fear the commandment of the Lord our God:  let it be
done according to the law.
10:4. Arise, it is thy part to give orders, and we will be with thee:
take courage, and do it.
10:5. So Esdras arose, and made the chiefs of the priests and of the
Levites, and all Israel, to swear that they would do according to this
word, and they swore.
10:6. And Esdras rose up from before the house of God, and went to the
chamber of Johanan the son of Eliasib, and entered in thither:  he ate
no bread, and drank no water:  for he mourned for the transgression of
them that were come out of the captivity.
10:7. And proclamation was made in Juda and Jerusalem to all the
children of the captivity, that they should assemble together into
10:8. And that whosoever would not come within three days, according to
the counsel of the princes and the ancients, all his substance should
be taken away, and he should be cast out of the company of them that
were returned from captivity.
10:9. Then all the men of Juda, and Benjamin gathered themselves
together to Jerusalem within three days, in the ninth month, the
twentieth day of the month:  and all the people sat in the street of the
house of God, trembling because of the sin, and the rain.
10:10. And Esdras the priest stood up, and said to them:  You have
transgressed, and taken strange wives, to add to the sins of Israel.
10:11. And now make confession to the Lord the God of your fathers, and
do his pleasure, and separate yourselves from the people of the land,
and from your strange wives.
10:12. And all the multitude answered and said with a loud voice:
According to thy word unto us, so be it done.
10:13. But as the people are many, and it is time of rain, and we are
not able to stand without, and it is not a work of one day or two, (for
we have exceedingly sinned in this matter,)
10:14. Let rulers be appointed in all the multitude:  and in all our
cities, let them that have taken strange wives come at the times
appointed, and with them the ancients and the judges of every city,
until the wrath of our God be turned away from us for this sin.
10:15. Then Jonathan the son of Azahel, and Jaasia the son of Thecua
were appointed over this, and Mesollam and Sebethai, Levites, helped
10:16. And the children of the captivity did so.  And Esdras the priest,
and the men heads of the families in the houses of their fathers, and
all by their names, went and sat down in the first day of the tenth
month to examine the matter.
10:17. And they made an end with all the men that had taken strange
wives by the first day of the first month.
10:18. And there were found among the sons of the priests that had
taken strange wives:  Of the sons of Josue the son of Josedec, and his
brethren, Maasia, and Eliezer, and Jarib, and Godolia.
10:19. And they gave their hands to put away their wives, and to offer
for their offence a ram of the flock.
10:20. And of the sons of Emmer, Hanani, and Zebedia.
10:21. And of the sons of Harim, Maasia, and Elia, and Semeia, and
Jehiel, and Ozias.
10:22. And of the sons of Pheshur, Elioenai, Maasia, Ismael, Nathanael,
Jozabed, and Elasa.
10:23. And of the sons of the Levites, Jozabed, and Semei, and Celaia,
the same is Calita, Phataia, Juda, and Eliezer.
10:24. And of the singing men, Elisiab:  and of the porters, Sellum, and
Telem, and Uri.
10:25. And of Israel, of the sons of Pharos, Remeia, and Jezia, and
Melchia, and Miamin, and Eliezer, and Melchia, and Banea.
10:26. And of the sons of Elam, Mathania, Zacharias, and Jehiel, and
Abdi, and Jerimoth, and Elia.
10:27. And of the sons of Zethua, Elioenai, Eliasib, Mathania,
Jerimuth, and Zabad, and Aziaza.
10:28. And of the sons of Babai, Johanan, Hanania, Zabbai, Athalai:
10:29. And of the sons of Bani, Mosollam, and Melluch, and Adaia,
Jasub, and Saal, and Ramoth.
10:30. And of the sons of Phahath, Moab, Edna, and Chalal, Banaias, and
Maasias, Mathanias, Beseleel, Bennui, and Manasse.
10:31. And of the sons of Herem, Eliezer, Josue, Melchias, Semeias,
10:32. Benjamin, Maloch, Samarias.
10:33. And of the sons of Hasom, Mathanai, Mathatha, Zabad, Eliphelet,
Jermai, Manasse, Semei.
10:34. Of the sons of Bani, Maaddi, Amram, and Uel,
10:35. Baneas, and Badaias, Cheliau,
10:36. Vania, Marimuth, and Eliasib,
10:37. Mathanias, Mathania, and Jasi,
10:38. And Bani, and Bennui, Semei,
10:39. And Salmias, and Nathan, and Adaias,
10:40. And Mechnedebai, Sisai, Sarai,
10:41. Ezrel, and Selemiau, Semeria,
10:42. Sellum, Amaria, Joseph.
10:43. Of the sons of Nebo, Jehiel, Mathathias, Zabad, Zabina, Jeddu,
and Joel, and Banaia.
10:44. All these had taken strange wives, and there were among them
women that had borne children.
THE BOOK OF NEHEMIAS, WHICH IS CALLED THE SECOND OF ESDRAS
This Book takes its name from the writer, who was cupbearer to
Artaxerxes (surnamed Longimanus) king of Persia, and was sent by him
with a commission to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem.  It is also called
the second book of Esdras; because it is a continuation of the history,
begun by Esdras, of the state of the people of God after their return
from captivity.
2 Esdras Chapter 1
Nehemias hearing the miserable state of his countrymen in Judea,
lamenteth, fasteth, and prayeth to God for their relief.
1:1. The words of Nehemias the son of Helchias.  And it came to pass in
the month of Casleu, in the twentieth year, as I was in the castle of
1:2. That Hanani one of my brethren came, he and some men of Juda; and
I asked them concerning the Jews, that remained and were left of the
captivity, and concerning Jerusalem.
1:3. And they said to me:  They that have remained, and are left of the
captivity there in the province, are in great affliction, and reproach:
and the wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and the gates thereof are
burnt with fire.
1:4. And when I had heard these words, I sat down, and wept, and
mourned for many days:  and I fasted, and prayed before the face of the
God of heaven.
1:5. And I said:  I beseech thee, O Lord God of heaven, strong, great,
and terrible, who keepest covenant and mercy with those that love thee,
and keep thy commandments:
1:6. Let thy ears be attentive, and thy eyes open, to hear the prayer
of thy servant, which I pray before thee now, night and day, for the
children of Israel thy servants:  and I confess the sins of the children
of Israel, by which they have sinned against thee:  I and my father's
house have sinned.
1:7. We have been seduced by vanity, and have not kept thy
commandments, and ceremonies and judgments, which thou hast commanded
thy servant Moses.
1:8. Remember the word that thou commandedst to Moses thy servant,
saying:  If you shall transgress, I will scatter you abroad among the
1:9. But if you return to me, and keep my commandments, and do them,
though you should be led away to the uttermost parts of the world, I
will gather you from thence, and bring you back to the place which I
have chosen for my name to dwell there.
1:10. And these are thy servants, and thy people:  whom thou hast
redeemed by thy great strength, and by thy mighty hand.
1:11. I beseech thee, O Lord, let thy ear be attentive to the prayer of
thy servant, and to the prayer of thy servants who desire to fear thy
name:  and direct thy servant this day, and give him mercy before this
man.  For I was the king's cupbearer.
2 Esdras Chapter 2
Nehemias with commission from king Artaxerxes cometh to Jerusalem:  and
exhorteth the Jews to rebuild the walls.
2:1. And it came to pass in the month of Nisan, in the twentieth year
of Artaxerxes the king:  that wine was before him, and I took up the
wine, and gave it to the king:  and I was as one languishing away before
2:2. And the king said to me:  Why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou
dost not appear to be sick?  this is not without cause, but some evil, I
know not what, is in thy heart.  And I was seized with an exceeding
2:3. And I said to the king:  O king, live for ever:  why should not my
countenance be sorrowful, seeing the city of the place of the
sepulchres of my fathers is desolate, and the gates thereof are burnt
2:4. Then the king said to me:  For what dost thou make request?  And I
prayed to the God of heaven,
2:5. And I said to the king:  If it seem good to the king, and if thy
servant hath found favour in thy sight, that thou wouldst send me into
Judea to the city of the sepulchre of my father, and I will build it.
2:6. And the king said to me, and the queen that sat by him:  For how
long shall thy journey be, and when wilt thou return?  And it pleased
the king, and he sent me:  and I fixed him a time.
2:7. And I said to the king:  If it seem good to the king, let him give
me letters to the governors of the country beyond the river, that they
convey me over, till I come into Judea:
2:8. And a letter to Asaph the keeper of the king's forest, to give me
timber that I may cover the gates of the tower of the house, and the
walls of the city, and the house that I shall enter into.  And the king
gave me according to the good hand of my God with me.
2:9. And I came to the governors of the country beyond the river, and
gave them the king's letters.  And the king had sent with me captains of
soldiers, and horsemen.
2:10. And Sanaballat the Horonite, and Tobias the servant, the
Ammonite, heard it, and it grieved them exceedingly, that a man was
come, who sought the prosperity of the children of Israel.
2:11. And I came to Jerusalem, and was there three days.
2:12. And I arose in the night, I and some few men with me, and I told
not any man what God had put in my heart to do in Jerusalem, and there
was no beast with me, but the beast that I rode upon.
2:13. And I went out by night by the gate of the valley, and before the
dragon fountain, and to the dung gate, and I viewed the wall of
Jerusalem which was broken down, and the gates thereof which were
consumed with fire.
2:14. And I passed to the gate of the fountain, and to the king's
aqueduct, and there was no place for the beast on which I rode to pass.
2:15. And I went up in the night by the torrent, and viewed the wall,
and going back I came to the gate of the valley, and returned.
2:16. But the magistrates knew not whither I went, or what I did:
neither had I as yet told any thing to the Jews, or to the priests, or
to the nobles, or to the magistrates, or to the rest that did the work.
2:17. Then I said to them:  You know the affliction wherein we are,
because Jerusalem is desolate, and the gates thereof are consumed with
fire:  come, and let us build up the walls of Jerusalem, and let us be
no longer a reproach.
2:18. And I shewed them how the hand of my God was good with me, and
the king's words, which he had spoken to me, and I said:  Let us rise
up, and build.  And their hands were strengthened in good.
2:19. But Sanaballat the Horonite, and Tobias the servant, the
Ammonite, and Gossem the Arabian heard of it, and they scoffed at us,
and despised us, and said:  What is this thing that you do?  are you
going to rebel against the king?
2:20. And I answered them, and said to them:  The God of heaven he
helpeth us, and we are his servants:  let us rise up and build:  but you
have no part, nor justice, nor remembrance in Jerusalem.
2 Esdras Chapter 3
They begin to build the walls:  the names and order of the builders.
3:1. Then Eliasib the high priest arose, and his brethren the priests,
and they built the flock gate:  they sanctified it, and set up the doors
thereof, even unto the tower of a hundred cubits they sanctified it
unto the tower of Hananeel.
3:2. And next to him the men of Jericho built:  and next to them built
Zachur the son of Amri.
3:3. But the fish gate the sons of Asnaa built:  they covered it, and
set up the doors thereof, and the locks, and the bars.  And next to them
built Marimuth the son of Urias the son of Accus.
4. And next to him built Mosollam the son of Barachias, the son of
Merezebel, and next to them built Sadoc the son of Baana.
5. And next to them the Thecuites built:  but their great men did not
put their necks to the work of their Lord.
3:6. And Joiada the son of Phasea, and Mosollam the son of Besodia
built the old gate:  they covered it and set up the doors thereof, and
the locks, and the bars.
3:7. And next to them built Meltias the Gabaonite, and Jadon the
Meronathite, the men of Gabaon and Maspha, for the governor that was in
the country beyond the river.
3:8. And next to him built Eziel the son of Araia the goldsmith:  and
next to him built Ananias the son of the perfumer:  and they left
Jerusalem unto the wall of the broad street.
3:9. And next to him built Raphaia the son of Hur, lord of the street
of Jerusalem.
3:10. And next to him Jedaia the son of Haromaph over against his own
house:  and next to him built Hattus the son of Hasebonia.
3:11. Melchias the son of Herem, and Hasub the son of Phahath Moab,
built half the street, and the tower of the furnaces.
3:12. And next to him built Sellum the son of Alohes, lord of half the
street of Jerusalem, he and his daughters.
3:13. And the gate of the valley Hanun built, and the inhabitants of
Zanoe:  they built it, and set up the doors thereof, and the locks, and
the bars, and a thousand cubits in the wall unto the gate of the
3:14. And the gate of the dunghill Melchias the son of Rechab built,
lord of the street of Bethacharam:  he built it, and set up the doors
thereof, and the locks, and the bars.
3:15. And the gate of the fountain, Sellum, the son of Cholhoza, built,
lord of the street of Maspha:  he built it, and covered it, and set up
the doors thereof, and the locks, and the bars, and the walls of the
pool of Siloe unto the king's guard, and unto the steps that go down
from the city of David.
3:16. After him built Nehemias the son of Azboc, lord of half the
street of Bethsur, as far as over against the sepulchre of David, and
to the pool, that was built with great labour, and to the house of the
3:17. After him built the Levites, Rehum the son of Benni.  After him
built Hasebias, lord of half the street of Ceila in his own street.
3:18. After him built their brethren Bavai the son of Enadad, lord of
3:19. And next to him Aser the son of Josue, lord of Maspha, built
another measure, over against the going up of the strong corner.
3:20. After him in the mount Baruch the son of Zachai built another
measure, from the corner to the door of the house of Eliasib the high
3:21. After him Merimuth the son of Urias the son of Haccus, built
another measure, from the door of the house of Eliasib, to the end of
the house of Eliasib.
3:22. And after him built the priests, the men of the plains of the
3:23. After him built Benjamin and Hasub, over against their own house:
and after him built Azarias the son of Maasias the son of Ananias over
against his house.
3:24. After him built Bennui the son of Hanadad another measure, from
the house of Azarias unto the bending, and unto the corner.
3:25. Phalel, the son of Ozi, over against the bending and the tower,
which lieth out from the king's high house, that is, in the court of
the prison:  after him Phadaia the son of Pharos.
3:26. And the Nathinites dwelt in Ophel, as far as over against the
water gate toward the east, and the tower that stood out.
3:27. After him the Thecuites built another measure over against, from
the great tower that standeth out unto the wall of the temple.
3:28. And upward from the horse gate the priests built, every man over
against his house.
3:29. After them built Sadoc the son of Emmer over against his house.
And after him built Semaia the son of Sechenias, keeper of the east
3:30. After him built Hanania the son of Selemia, and Hanun the sixth
son of Seleph, another measure:  after him built Mosollam the son of
Barachias over against his treasury.  After him Melcias the goldsmith's
son built unto the house of the Nathinites, and of the sellers of small
wares, over against the judgment gate, and unto the chamber of the
3:31. And within the chamber of the corner of the flock gate, the
goldsmiths and the merchants built.
2 Esdras Chapter 4
The building is carried on notwithstanding the opposition of their
4:1. And it came to pass, that when Sanaballat heard that we were
building the wall he was angry:  and being moved exceedingly he scoffed
at the Jews.
4:2. And said before his brethren, and the multitude of the Samaritans:
What are the silly Jews doing?  Will the Gentiles let them alone?  will
they sacrifice and make an end in a day?  are they able to raise stones
out of the heaps of the rubbish, which are burnt?
4:3. Tobias also the Ammonite who was by him said:  Let them build:  if a
fox go up, he will leap over their stone wall.
4:4. Hear thou our God, for we are despised:  turn their reproach upon
their own head, and give them to be despised in a land of captivity.
4:5. Cover not their iniquity, and let not their sin be blotted out
from before thy face, because they have mocked thy builders.
4:6. So we built the wall, and joined it all together unto the half
thereof:  and the heart of the people was excited to work.
4:7. And it came to pass, when Sanaballat, and Tobias, and the
Arabians, and the Ammonites, and the Azotians heard that the walls of
Jerusalem were made up, and the breaches began to be closed, that they
were exceedingly angry.
4:8. And they all assembled themselves together, to come, and to fight
against Jerusalem, and to prepare ambushes.
4:9. And we prayed to our God, and set watchmen upon the wall day and
night against them.
4:10. And Juda said:  The strength of the bearer of burdens is decayed,
and the rubbish is very much, and we shall not be able to build the
4:11. And our enemies said:  Let them not know, nor understand, till we
come in the midst of them, and kill them, and cause the work to cease.
4:12. And it came to pass, that when the Jews that dwelt by them came
and told us ten times, out of all the places from whence they came to
4:13. I set the people in the place behind the wall round about in
order, with their swords, and spears, and bows.
4:14. And I looked and rose up:  and I said to the chief men and the
magistrates, and to the rest of the common people:  be not afraid of
them.  Remember the Lord who is great and terrible, and fight for your
brethren, your sons, and your daughters, and your wives, and your
4:15. And it came to pass, when our enemies heard that the thing had
been told us, that God defeated their counsel.  And we returned all of
us to the walls, every man to his work.
4:16. And it came to pass from that day forward, that half of their
young men did the work, and half were ready for to fight, with spears,
and shields, and bows, and coats of mail, and the rulers were behind
them in all the house of Juda.
4:17. Of them that built on the wall and that carried burdens, and that
laded:  with one of his hands he did the work, and with the other he
held a sword.
4:18. For every one of the builders was girded with a sword about his
reins.  And they built, and sounded with a trumpet by me.
4:19. And I said to the nobles, and to the magistrates, and to the rest
of the common people:  The work is great and wide, and we are separated
on the wall one far from another:
4:20. In what place soever you shall hear the sound of the trumpet, run
all thither unto us:  our God will fight for us.
4:21. And let us do the work:  and let one half of us hold our spears
from the rising of the morning, till the stars appear.
4:22. At that time also I said to the people:  Let every one with his
servant stay in the midst of Jerusalem, and let us take our turns in
the night, and by day, to work.
4:23. Now I and my brethren, and my servants, and the watchmen that
followed me, did not put off our clothes:  only every man stripped
himself when he was to be washed.
2 Esdras Chapter 5
Nehemias blameth the rich, for their oppressing the poor.  His
exhortation, and bounty to his countrymen.
5:1. Now there was a great cry of the people, and of their wives
against their brethren the Jews.
5:2. And there were some that said:  Our sons and our daughters are very
many:  let us take up corn for the price of them, and let us eat and
5:3. And there were some that said:  Let us mortgage our lands, and our
vineyards, and our houses, and let us take corn because of the famine.
5:4. And others said:  Let us borrow money for the king's tribute, and
let us give up our fields and vineyards:
5:5. And now our flesh is as the flesh of our brethren:  and our
children as their children.  Behold we bring into bondage our sons and
our daughters, and some of our daughters are bondwomen already, neither
have we wherewith to redeem them, and our fields and our vineyards
other men possess.
5:6. And I was exceedingly angry when I heard their cry according to
these words.
5:7. And my heart thought with myself:  and I rebuked the nobles and
magistrates, and said to them:  Do you every one exact usury of your
brethren?  And I gathered together a great assembly against them,
5:8. And I said to them:  We, as you know, have redeemed according to
our ability our brethren the Jews, that were sold to the Gentiles:  and
will you then sell your brethren, for us to redeem them?  And they held
their peace, and found not what to answer.
5:9. And I said to them:  The thing you do is not good:  why walk you not
in the fear of our God, that we be not exposed to the reproaches of the
Gentiles our enemies?
5:10. Both I and my brethren, and my servants, have lent money and corn
to many:  let us all agree not to call for it again; let us forgive the
debt that is owing to us.
5:11. Restore ye to them this day their fields, and their vineyards,
and their oliveyards, and their houses:  and the hundredth part of the
money, and of the corn, the wine, and the oil, which you were wont to
exact of them, give it rather for them.
5:12. And they said:  We will restore, and we will require nothing of
them:  and we will do as thou sayest.  And I called the priests and took
an oath of them, to do according to what I had said.
5:13. Moreover I shook my lap, and said:  So may God shake every man
that shall not accomplish this word, out of his house, and out of his
labours, thus may he be shaken out, and become empty.  And all the
multitude said:  Amen.  And they praised God.  And the people did
according to what was said.
5:14. And from the day, in which the king commanded me to be governor
in the land of Juda, from the twentieth year even to the two and
thirtieth year of Artaxerxes the king, for twelve years, I and my
brethren did not eat the yearly allowance that was due to the
5:15. But the former governors that had been before me, were chargeable
to the people, and took of them in bread, and wine, and in money every
day forty sicles:  and their officers also oppressed the people.  But I
did not so for the fear of God.
5:16. Moreover I built in the work of the wall, and I bought no land,
and all my servants were gathered together to the work.
5:17. The Jews also and the magistrates to the number of one hundred
and fifty men, were at my table, besides them that came to us from
among the nations that were round about us.
5:18. And there was prepared for me day be day one ox, and six choice
rams, besides fowls, and once in ten days I gave store of divers wines,
and many other things:  yet I did not require my yearly allowance as
governor:  for the people were very much impoverished.
5:19. Remember me, O my God, for good according to all that I have done
for this people.
2 Esdras Chapter 6
The enemies seek to terrify Nehemias.  He proceedeth and finisheth the
6:1. And it came to pass, when Sanaballat, and Tobias, and Gossem the
Arabian, and the rest of our enemies, heard that I had built the wall,
and that there was no breach left in it, (though at that time I had not
set up the doors in the gates,)
6:2. Sanaballat and Gossem sent to me, saying:  Come, and let us make a
league together in the villages, in the plain of Ono.  But they thought
to do me mischief.
6:3. And I sent messengers to them, saying:  I am doing a great work,
and I cannot come down, lest it be neglected whilst I come, and go down
6:4. And they sent to me according to this word, four times:  and I
answered them after the same manner.
6:5. And Sanaballat sent his servant to me the fifth time according to
the former word, and he had a letter in his hand written in this
6:6. It is reported amongst the Gentiles, and Gossem hath said it, that
thou and the Jews think to rebel, and therefore thou buildest the wall,
and hast a mind to set thyself king over them:  for which end
6:7. Thou hast also set up prophets, to preach of thee at Jerusalem,
saying:  There is a king in Judea.  The king will hear of these things:
therefore come now, that we may take counsel together.
6:8. And I sent to them, saying:  There is no such thing done as thou
sayest:  but thou feignest these things out of thy own heart.
6:9. For all these men thought to frighten us, thinking that our hands
would cease from the work, and that we would leave off.  Wherefore I
strengthened my hands the more:
6:10. And I went into the house of Samaia the son of Delaia, the son of
Metabeel privately.  And he said:  Let us consult together in the house
of God in the midst of the temple:  and let us shut the doors of the
temple, for they will come to kill thee, and in the night they will
come to slay thee.
6:11. And I said:  Should such a man as I flee?  and who is there that
being as I am, would go into the temple, to save his life?  I will not
6:12. And I understood that God had not sent him, but that he had
spoken to me as if he had been prophesying, and Tobias, and Sanaballat
had hired him.
6:13. For he had taken money, that I being afraid should do this thing,
and sin, and they might have some evil to upbraid me withal.
6:14. Remember me, O Lord, for Tobias and Sanaballat, according to
their works of this kind:  and Noadias the prophet, and the rest of the
prophets that would have put me in fear.
6:15. But the wall was finished the five and twentieth day of the month
of Elul, in two and fifty days.
6:16. And it came to pass when all our enemies heard of it, that all
nations which were round about us, were afraid, and were cast down
within themselves, for they perceived that this work was the work of
6:17. Moreover in those days many letters were sent by the principal
men of the Jews to Tobias, and from Tobias there came letters to them.
6:18. For there were many in Judea sworn to him, because he was the son
in law of Sechenias the son of Area, and Johanan his son had taken to
wife the daughter of Mosollam the son of Barachias.
6:19. And they praised him also before me, and they related my words to
him:  And Tobias sent letters to put me in fear.
2 Esdras Chapter 7
Nehemias appointeth watchmen in Jerusalem.  The list of those who came
first from Babylon.
7:1. Now after the wall was built, and I had set up the doors, and
numbered the porters and singing men, and Levites:
7:2. I commanded Hanani my brother, and Hananias ruler of the house of
Jerusalem, (for he seemed as a sincere man, and one that feared God
above the rest,)
7:3. And I said to them:  Let not the gates of Jerusalem be opened till
the sun be hot.  And while they were yet standing by the gates were
shut, and barred:  and I set watchmen of the inhabitants of Jerusalem,
every one by their courses, and every man over against his house.
7:4. And the city was very wide and great, and the people few in the
midst thereof, and the houses were not built.
7:5. But God had put in my heart, and I assembled the princes and
magistrates, and common people, to number them:  and I found a book of
the number of them who came up at first and therein it was found
7:6. These are the children of the province, who came up from the
captivity of them that had been carried away, whom Nabuchodonosor the
king of Babylon had carried away, and who returned into Judea, every
one into his own city.
7:7. Who came with Zorobabel, Josue, Nehemias, Azarias, Raamias,
Nahamani, Mardochai, Belsam, Mespharath, Begoia, Nahum, Baana.  The
number of the men of the people of Israel:
7:8. The children of Pharos, two thousand one hundred seventy-two.
7:9. The children of Sephatia, three hundred seventy-two.
7:10. The children of Area, six hundred fifty-two.
7:11. The children of Phahath Moab of the children of Josue and Joab,
two thousand eight hundred eighteen.
7:12. The children of Elam, one thousand two hundred fifty-four.
7:13. The children of Zethua, eight hundred forty-five.
7:14. The children of Zachai, seven hundred sixty.
7:15. The children of Bannui, six hundred forty-eight.
7:16. The children of Bebai, six hundred twenty-eight.
7:17. The children of Azgad, two thousand three hundred twenty-two.
7:18. The children of Adonicam, six hundred sixty-seven.
7:19. The children of Beguai, two thousand sixty-seven.
7:20. The children of Adin, six hundred fifty-five.
7:21. The children of Ater, children of Hezechias, ninety-eight.
7:22. The children of Hasem, three hundred twenty-eight.
7:23. The children of Besai, three hundred twenty-four.
7:24. The children of Hareph, a hundred and twelve.
7:25. The children of Gabaon, ninety-five.
7:26. The children of Bethlehem, and Netupha, a hundred eighty-eight.
7:27. The men of Anathoth, a hundred twenty-eight.
7:28. The men of Bethazmoth, forty-two.
7:29. The men of Cariathiarim, Cephira, and Beroth, seven hundred
forty-three.
7:30. The men of Rama and Geba, six hundred twenty-one.
7:31. The men of Machmas, a hundred twenty-two.
7:32. The men of Bethel and Hai, a hundred twenty-three.
7:33. The men of the other Nebo, fifty-two.
7:34. The men of the other Elam, one thousand two hundred fifty-four.
7:35. The children of Harem, three hundred and twenty.
7:36. The children of Jericho, three hundred forty-five.
7:37. The children of Lod, of Hadid and Ono, seven hundred twenty-one.
7:38. The children of Senaa, three thousand nine hundred thirty.
7:39. The priests:  the children of Idaia in the house of Josue, nine
hundred and seventy-three.
7:40. The children of Emmer, one thousand fifty-two.
7:41. The children of Phashur, one thousand two hundred forty-seven.
7:42. The children of Arem, one thousand and seventeen.  The Levites:
7:43. The children of Josue and Cedmihel, the sons
7:44. Of Oduia, seventy-four.  The singing men:
7:45. The children of Asaph, a hundred forty-eight.
7:46. The porters:  the children of Sellum, the children of Ater, the
children of Telmon, the children of Accub, the children of Hatita, the
children of Sobai:  a hundred thirty-eight.
7:47. The Nathinites:  the children of Soha, the children of Hasupha,
the children of Tebbaoth,
7:48. The children of Ceros, the children os Siaa, the children of
Phadon, the children of Lebana, the children of Hagaba, the children of
7:49. The children of Hanan, the children of Geddel, the children of
7:50. The children of Raaia, the children of Rasin, the children of
7:51. The children of Gezem, the children of Asa, the children of
7:52. The children of Besai, the children of Munim, the children of
7:53. The children of Bacbuc, the children of Hacupha, the children of
7:54. The children of Besloth, the children of Mahida, the children of
7:55. The children of Bercos, the children of Sisara, the children of
7:56. The children of Nasia, the children of Hatipha,
7:57. The children of the servants of Solomon, the children of Sothai,
the children of Sophereth, the children of Pharida,
7:58. The children of Jahala, the children of Darcon, the children of
7:59. The children of Saphatia, the children of Hatil, the children of
Phochereth, who was born of Sabaim, the son of Amon.
7:60. All the Nathinites, and the children of the servants of Solomon,
three hundred ninety-two.
7:61. And these are they that came up from Telmela, Thelharsa, Cherub,
Addon, and Emmer:  and could not shew the house of their fathers, nor
their seed, whether they were of Israel.
7:62. The children of Dalaia, the children of Tobia, the children of
Necoda, six hundred forty-two.
7:63. And of the priests, the children of Habia, the children of Accos,
the children of Berzellai, who took a wife of the daughters of
Berzellai the Galaadite, and he was called by their name.
7:64. These sought their writing in the record, and found it not:  and
they were cast out of the priesthood.
7:65. And Athersatha said to them, that they should not eat of the
holies of holies, until there stood up a priest learned and skilful.
7:66. All the multitude as it were one man, forty-two thousand three
hundred sixty,
7:67. Beside their menservants and womenservants, who were seven
thousand three hundred thirty-seven:  and among them singing men, and
singing women, two hundred forty-five.
7:68. Their horses, seven hundred thirty-six:  their mules two hundred
7:69. Their camels, four hundred thirty-five, their asses, six thousand
seven hundred and twenty.
(Hitherto is related what was written in the record.  From this place
forward goeth on the history of Nehemias.)
7:70. And some of the heads of the families gave unto the work.
Athersatha gave into the treasure a thousand drams of gold, fifty
bowls, and five hundred and thirty garments for priests.
Athersatha. . .That is, Nehemias; as appears from chap. 12.  Either that
he was so called at the court of the king of Persia, where he was
cupbearer:  or that, as some think, this name signifies governor; and he
was at that time governor of Judea.
7:71. And some of the heads of families gave to the treasure of the
work, twenty thousand drams of gold, and two thousand two hundred
pounds of silver.
7:72. And that which the rest of the people gave, was twenty thousand
drams of gold, and two thousand pounds of silver, and sixty-seven
garments for priests.
7:73. And the priests, and the Levites, and the porters, and the
singing men, and the rest of the common people, and the Nathinites, and
all Israel dwelt in their cities.
2 Esdras Chapter 8
Esdras readeth the law before the people.  Nehemias comforteth them.
They celebrate the feast of tabernacles.
8:1. And the seventh month came:  and the children of Israel were in
their cities.  And all the people were gathered together as one man to
the street which is before the water gate, and they spoke to Esdras the
scribe, to bring the book of the law of Moses, which the Lord had
commanded to Israel.
8:2. Then Esdras the priest brought the law before the multitude of men
and women, and all those that could understand, in the first day of the
seventh month.
8:3. And he read it plainly in the street that was before the water
gate, from the morning until midday, before the men, and the women, and
all those that could understand:  and the ears of all the people were
attentive to the book.
8:4. And Esdras the scribe stood upon a step of wood, which he had made
to speak upon, and there stood by him Mathathias, and Semeia, and Ania,
and Uria, and Helcia, and Maasia, on his right hand:  and on the left,
Phadaia, Misael, and Melchia, and Hasum, and Hasbadana, Zacharia and
8:5. And Esdras opened the book before all the people:  for he was above
all the people:  and when he had opened it, all the people stood.
8:6. And Esdras blessed the Lord the great God:  and all the people
answered, Amen, amen:  lifting up their hands:  and they bowed down, and
adored God with their faces to the ground.
8:7. Now Josue, and Bani, and Serebia, Jamin, Accub, Sephtai, Odia,
Maasia, Celtia, Azarias, Jozabed, Hanan, Phalaia, the Levites, made
silence among the people to hear the law:  and the people stood in their
8:8. And they read in the book of the law of God distinctly and plainly
to be understood:  and they understood when it was read.
8:9. And Nehemias (he is Athersatha) and Esdras the priest and scribe,
and the Levites who interpreted to all the people, said:  This is a holy
day to the Lord our God:  do not mourn, nor weep:  for all the people
wept, when they heard the words of the law.
8:10. And he said to them:  Go, eat fat meats, and drink sweet wine, and
send portions to them that have not prepared for themselves:  because it
is the holy day of the Lord, and be not sad:  for the joy of the Lord is
our strength.
8:11. And the Levites stilled all the people, saying:  Hold your peace,
for the day is holy, and be not sorrowful.
8:12. So all the people went to eat and drink, and to send portions,
and to make great mirth:  because they understood the words that he had
taught them.
8:13. And on the second day the chiefs of the families of all the
people, the priests, and the Levites were gathered together to Esdras
the scribe, that he should interpret to them the words of the law.
8:14. And they found written in the law, that the Lord had commanded by
the hand of Moses, that the children of Israel should dwell in
tabernacles, on the feast, in the seventh month:
8:15. And that they should proclaim and publish the word in all their
cities, and in Jerusalem, saying:  Go forth to the mount, and fetch
branches of olive, and branches of beautiful wood, branches of myrtle,
and branches of palm, and branches of thick trees, to make tabernacles,
as it is written.
8:16. And the people went forth, and brought.  And they made themselves
tabernacles every man on the top of his house, and in their courts, and
in the courts of the house of God, and in the street of the water gate,
and in the street of the gate of Ephraim.
8:17. And all the assembly of them that were returned from the
captivity, made tabernacles, and dwelt in tabernacles:  for since the
days of Josue the son of Nun the children of Israel had not done so,
until that day:  and there was exceeding great joy.
8:18. And he read in the book of the law of God day by day, from the
first day till the last, and they kept the solemnity seven days, and in
the eighth day a solemn assembly according to the manner.
2 Esdras Chapter 9
The people repent with fasting and sackcloth.  The Levites confess God's
benefits, and the people's ingratitude:  they pray for them, and make a
covenant with God.
9:1. And in the four and twentieth day of the month the children of
Israel came together with fasting and with sackcloth, and earth upon
9:2. And the seed of the children of Israel separated themselves from
every stranger:  and they stood, and confessed their sins, and the
iniquities of their fathers.
9:3. And they rose up to stand:  and they read in the book of the law of
the Lord their God, four times in the day, and four times they
confessed, and adored the Lord their God.
9:4. And there stood up upon the step of the Levites, Josue, and Bani,
and Cedmihel, Sabania, Bonni, Sarebias, Bani, and Chanani:  and they
cried with a loud voice to the Lord their God.
9:5. And the Levites Josue and Cedmihel, Bonni, Hasebnia, Serebia,
Oduia, Sebnia, and Phathahia, said:  Arise, bless the Lord your God from
eternity to eternity:  and blessed be the high name of thy glory with
all blessing and praise.
9:6. Thou thyself, O Lord alone, thou hast made heaven, and the heaven
of heavens, and all the host thereof:  the earth and all things that are
in it:  the seas and all that are therein:  and thou givest life to all
these things, and the host of heaven adoreth thee.
9:7. Thou O Lord God, art he who chosest Abram, and broughtest him
forth out of the fire of the Chaldeans, and gavest him the name of
The fire of the Chaldeans. . .The city of Ur in Chaldea, the name of
which signifies fire.  Or out of the fire of the tribulations and
temptations, to which he was there exposed.--The ancient Rabbins
understood this literally, affirming that Abram was cast into the fire
by the idolaters, and brought out by a miracle without any hurt.
9:8. And thou didst find his heart faithful before thee:  and thou
madest a covenant with him, to give him the land of the Chanaanite, of
the Hethite, and of the Amorrhite, and of the Pherezite, and of the
Jebusite, and of the Gergezite, to give it to his seed:  and thou hast
fulfilled thy words, because thou art just.
9:9. And thou sawest the affliction of our fathers in Egypt:  and thou
didst hear their cry by the Red Sea.
9:10. And thou shewedst signs and wonders upon Pharao, and upon all his
servants, and upon the people of his land:  for thou knewest that they
dealt proudly against them:  and thou madest thyself a name, as it is at
9:11. And thou didst divide the sea before them, and they passed
through the midst of the sea on dry land:  but their persecutors thou
threwest into the depth, as a stone into mighty waters.
9:12. And in a pillar of a cloud thou wast their leader by day, and in
a pillar of fire by night, that they might see the way by which they
9:13. Thou camest down also to mount Sinai, and didst speak with them
from heaven, and thou gavest them right judgments, and the law of
truth, ceremonies, and good precepts.
9:14. Thou madest known to them thy holy sabbath, and didst prescribe
to them commandments, and ceremonies, and the law by the hand of Moses
thy servant.
9:15. And thou gavest them bread from heaven in their hunger, and
broughtest forth water for them out of the rock in their thirst, and
thou saidst to them that they should go in, and possess the land, upon
which thou hadst lifted up thy hand to give it them.
9:16. But they and our fathers dealt proudly, and hardened their necks
and hearkened not to thy commandments.
9:17. And they would not hear, and they remembered not thy wonders
which thou hadst done for them.  And they hardened their necks, and gave
the head to return to their bondage, as it were by contention.  But
thou, a forgiving God, gracious, and merciful, longsuffering, and full
of compassion, didst not forsake them.
And gave the head. . .That is, they set their head, or were bent to
return to Egypt.
9:18. Yea when they had made also to themselves a molten calf, and had
said:  This is thy God, that brought thee out of Egypt:  and had
committed great blasphemies:
9:19. Yet thou, in thy many mercies, didst not leave them in the
desert:  the pillar of the cloud departed not from them by day to lead
them in the way, and the pillar of fire by night to shew them the way
by which they should go.
9:20. And thou gavest them thy good Spirit to teach them, and thy manna
thou didst not withhold from their mouth, and thou gavest them water
for their thirst.
9:21. Forty years didst thou feed them in the desert, and nothing was
wanting to them:  their garments did not grow old, and their feet were
9:22. And thou gavest them kingdoms, and nations, and didst divide lots
for them:  and they possessed the land of Sehon, and the land of the
king of Hesebon, and the land of Og king of Basan.
9:23. And thou didst multiply their children as the stars of heaven,
and broughtest them to the land concerning which thou hadst said to
their fathers, that they should go in and possess it.
9:24. And the children came and possessed the land, and thou didst
humble before them the inhabitants of the land, the Chanaanites, and
gavest them into their hands, with their kings, and the people of the
land, that they might do with them as it pleased them.
9:25. And they took strong cities and a fat land, and possessed houses
full of all goods:  cisterns made by others, vineyards, and oliveyards,
and fruit trees in abundance:  and they ate, and were filled, and became
fat, and abounded with delight in thy great goodness.
9:26. But they provoked thee to wrath, and departed from thee, and
threw thy law behind their backs:  and they killed thy prophets, who
admonished them earnestly to return to thee:  and they were guilty of
great blasphemies.
9:27. And thou gavest them into the hands of their enemies, and they
afflicted them.  And in the time of their tribulation they cried to
thee, and thou heardest from heaven, and according to the multitude of
thy tender mercies thou gavest them saviours, to save them from the
hands of their enemies.
9:28. But after they had rest, they returned to do evil in thy sight:
and thou leftest them in the hand of their enemies, and they had
dominion over them.  Then they returned, and cried to thee:  and thou
heardest from heaven, and deliveredst them many times in thy mercies.
9:29. And thou didst admonish them to return to thy law.  But they dealt
proudly, and hearkened not to thy commandments, but sinned against thy
judgments, which if a man do, he shall live in them:  and they withdrew
the shoulder, and hardened their neck, and would not hear.
9:30. And thou didst forbear with them for many years, and didst
testify against them by thy spirit by the hand of thy prophets:  and
they heard not, and thou didst deliver them into the hand of the people
of the lands.
9:31. Yet in thy very many mercies thou didst not utterly consume them,
nor forsake them:  because thou art a merciful and gracious God.
9:32. Now therefore our God, great, strong, and terrible, who keepest
covenant and mercy, turn not away from thy face all the labour which
hath come upon us, upon our kings, and our princes, and our priests,
and our prophets, and our fathers, and all the people from the days of
the king of Assur, until this day.
9:33. And thou art just in all things that have come upon us:  because
thou hast done truth, but we have done wickedly.
9:34. Our kings, our princes, our priests, and our fathers have not
kept thy law, and have not minded thy commandments, and thy testimonies
which thou hast testified among them.
9:35. And they have not served thee in their kingdoms, and in thy
manifold goodness, which thou gavest them, and in the large and fat
land, which thou deliveredst before them, nor did they return from
their most wicked devices.
9:36. Behold we ourselves this day are bondmen:  and the land, which
thou gavest our fathers, to eat the bread thereof, and the good things
thereof, and we ourselves are servants in it.
9:37. And the fruits thereof grow up for the kings, whom thou hast set
over us for our sins, and they have dominion over our bodies, and over
our beasts, according to their will, and we are in great tribulation.
9:38. And because of all this we ourselves make a covenant, and write
it, and our princes, our Levites, and our priests sign it.
2 Esdras Chapter 10
The names of the subscribers to the covenant, and the contents of it.
10:1. And the subscribers were Nehemias, Athersatha the son of
Hachelai, and Sedecias,
10:2. Saraias, Azarias, Jeremias,
10:3. Pheshur, Amarias, Melchias,
10:4. Hattus, Sebenia, Melluch,
10:5. Harem, Merimuth, Obdias,
10:6. Daniel, Genthon, Baruch,
10:7. Mosollam, Abia, Miamin,
10:8. Maazia, Belgia, Semeia:  these were priests.
10:9. And the Levites, Josue the son of Azanias, Bennui of the sons of
Henadad, Cedmihel,
10:10. And their brethren, Sebenia, Oduia, Celita, Phalaia, Hanan,
10:11. Micha, Rohob, Hasebia,
10:12. Zachur, Serebia, Sabania,
10:13. Odaia, Bani, Baninu.
10:14. The heads of the people, Pharos, Phahath Moab, Elam, Zethu,
10:15. Bonni, Azgad, Bebai,
10:16. Adonia, Begoai, Adin,
10:17. Ater, Hezecia, Azur,
10:18. Odaia, Hasum, Besai,
10:19. Hareph, Anathoth, Nebai,
10:20. Megphias, Mosollam, Hazir,
10:21. Mesizabel, Sadoc, Jeddua,
10:22. Pheltia, Hanan, Anaia,
10:23. Osee, Hanania, Hasub,
10:24. Alohes, Phalea, Sobec,
10:25. Rehum, Hasebna, Maasia,
10:26. Echaia, Hanan, Anan,
10:27. Melluch, Haran, Baana:
10:28. And the rest of the people, priests, Levites, porters, and
singing men, Nathinites, and all that had separated themselves from the
people of the lands to the law of God, their wives, their sons, and
their daughters.
10:29. All that could understand, promising for their brethren, with
their chief men, and they came to promise, and swear that they would
walk in the law of God, which he gave in the hand of Moses the servant
of God, that they would do and keep all the commandments of the Lord
our God, and his judgments and his ceremonies.
10:30. And that we would not give our daughters to the people of the
land, nor take their daughters for our sons.
10:31. And if the people of the land bring in things to sell, or any
things for use, to sell them on the sabbath day, that we would not buy
them on the sabbath, or on the holy day.  And that we would leave the
seventh year, and the exaction of every hand.
10:32. And we made ordinances for ourselves, to give the third part of
a sicle every year for the work of the house of our God,
10:33. For the loaves of proposition, and for the continual sacrifice,
and for a continual holocaust on the sabbaths, on the new moons, on the
set feasts, and for the holy things, and for the sin offering:  that
atonement might be made for Israel, and for every use of the house of
10:34. And we cast lots among the priests, and the Levites, and the
people for the offering of wood, that it might be brought into the
house of our God by the houses of our fathers at set times, from year
to year:  to burn upon the altar of the Lord our God, as it is written
in the law of Moses:
10:35. And that we would bring the firstfruits of our land, and the
firstfruits of all fruit of every tree, from year to year, in the house
of our Lord.
10:36. And the firstborn of our sons, and of our cattle, as it is
written in the law, and the firstlings of our oxen, and of our sheep,
to be offered in the house of our God, to the priests who minister in
the house of our God.
10:37. And that we would bring the firstfruits of our meats, and of our
libations, and the fruit of every tree, of the vintage also and of oil
to the priests, to the storehouse of our God, and the tithes of our
ground to the Levites.  The Levites also shall receive the tithes of our
works out of all the cities.
10:38. And the priest the son of Aaron shall be with the Levites in the
tithes of the Levites, and the Levites shall offer the tithe of their
tithes in the house of our God, to the storeroom into the treasure
10:39. For the children of Israel and the children of Levi shall carry
to the treasury the firstfruits of corn, of wine, and of oil:  and the
sanctified vessels shall be there, and the priests, and the singing
men, and the porters, and ministers, and we will not forsake the house
2 Esdras Chapter 11
Who were the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and the other cities.
11:1. And the princes of the people dwelt at Jerusalem:  but the rest of
the people cast lots, to take one part in ten to dwell in Jerusalem the
holy city, and nine parts in the other cities.
11:2. And the people blessed all the men that willingly offered
themselves to dwell in Jerusalem.
11:3. These therefore are the chief men of the province, who dwelt in
Jerusalem, and in the cities of Juda.  And every one dwelt in his
possession, in their cities:  Israel, the priests, the Levites, the
Nathinites, and the children of the servants of Solomon.
11:4. And in Jerusalem there dwelt some of the children of Juda, and
some of the children of Benjamin:  of the children of Juda, Athaias the
son of Aziam, the son of Zacharias, the son of Amarias, the son of
Saphatias, the son of Malaleel:  of the sons of Phares,
11:5. Maasia the son of Baruch, the son of Cholhoza, the son of Hazia,
the son of Adaia, the son of Joiarib, the son of Zacharias, the son of
the Silonite:
11:6. All these the sons of Phares, who dwelt in Jerusalem, were four
hundred sixty-eight valiant men.
11:7. And these are the children of Benjamin:  Sellum the son of
Mosollam, the son of Joed, the son of Phadaia, the son of Colaia, the
son of Masia, the son of Etheel, the son of Isaia.
11:8. And after him Gebbai, Sellai, nine hundred twenty-eight.
11:9. And Joel the son of Zechri their ruler, and Judas the son of
Senua was second over the city.
11:10. And of the priests Idaia the son of Joarib, Jachin,
11:11. Saraia the son of Helcias, the son of Mosollam, the son of
Sadoc, the son of Meraioth, the son of Achitob the prince of the house
11:12. And their brethren that do the works of the temple:  eight
hundred twenty-two.  And Adaia the son of Jeroham, the son of Phelelia,
the son of Amsi, the son of Zacharias, the son of Pheshur, the son of
11:13. And his brethren the chiefs of the fathers:  two hundred
forty-two.  And Amassai the son of Azreel, the son of Ahazi, the son of
Mosollamoth, the son of Emmer,
11:14. And their brethren who were very mighty, a hundred twenty-eight:
and their ruler Zabdiel son of the mighty.
11:15. And of the Levites Semeia the son of Hasub, the son of Azaricam,
the son of Hasabia, the son of Boni,
11:16. And Sabathai and Jozabed, who were over all the outward business
of the house of God, of the princes of the Levites,
11:17. And Mathania the son of Micha, the son of Zebedei, the son of
Asaph, was the principal man to praise, and to give glory in prayer,
and Becbecia, the second, one of his brethren, and Abda the son of
Samua, the son of Galal, the son of Idithun.
11:18. All the Levites in the holy city were two hundred eighty-four.
11:19. And the porters, Accub, Telmon, and their brethren, who kept the
doors:  a hundred seventy-two.
11:20. And the rest of Israel, the priests and the Levites were in all
the cities of Juda, every man in his possession.
11:21. And the Nathinites, that dwelt in Ophel, and Siaha, and Gaspha
of the Nathinites.
11:22. And the overseer of the Levites in Jerusalem, was Azzi the son
of Bani, the son of Hasabia, the son of Mathania, the son of Micha.  Of
the sons of Asaph, were the singing men in the ministry of the house of
11:23. For the king's commandment was concerning them, and an order
among the singing men day by day.
11:24. And Phathahia the son of Mesezebel of the children of Zara the
son of Juda was at the hand of the king, in all matters concerning the
11:25. And in the houses through all their countries.  Of the children
of Juda some dwelt at Cariath-Arbe, and in the villages thereof:  and at
Dibon, and in the villages thereof:  and at Cabseel, and in the villages
11:26. And at Jesue, and at Molada, and at Bethphaleth,
11:27. And at Hasersuel, and at Bersabee, and in the villages thereof,
11:28. And at Siceleg, and at Mochona, and in the villages thereof,
11:29. And at Remmon, and at Saraa, and at Jerimuth,
11:30. Zanoa, Odollam, and in their villages, at Lachis and its
dependencies, and at Azeca and the villages thereof.  And they dwelt
from Bersabee unto the valley of Ennom.
11:31. And the children of Benjamin, from Geba, at Mechmas, and at Hai,
and at Bethel, and in the villages thereof,
11:32. At Anathoth, Nob, Anania,
11:33. Asor, Rama, Gethaim,
11:34. Hadid, Seboim, and Neballat, Lod,
11:35. And Ono the valley of craftsmen.
11:36. And of the Levites were portions of Juda and Benjamin.
2 Esdras Chapter 12
The priests, and Levites that came up with Zorobabel.  The succession of
high priests:  the solemnity of the dedication of the wall.
12:1. Now these are the priests and the Levites, that went up with
Zorobabel the son of Salathiel, and Josue:  Saraia, Jeremias, Esdras,
12:2. Amaria, Melluch, Hattus,
12:3. Sebenias, Rheum, Merimuth,
12:4. Addo, Genthon, Abia,
12:5. Miamin, Madia, Belga,
12:6. Semeia, and Joiarib, Idaia, Sellum Amoc, Helcias,
12:7. Idaia.  These were the chief of the priests, and of their brethren
in the days of Josue.
12:8. And the Levites, Jesua, Bennui, Cedmihel, Sarebia, Juda,
Mathanias, they and their brethren were over the hymns:
12:9. And Becbecia, and Hanni, and their brethren every one in his
12:10. And Josue begot Joacim, and Joacim begot Eliasib, and Eliasib
begot Joiada,
12:11. And Joiada begot Jonathan and Jonathan begot Jeddoa.
12:12. And in the days of Joacim the priests and heads of the families
were:  Of Saraia, Maraia:  of Jeremias, Hanania:
12:13. Of Esdras, Mosollam:  and of Amaria, Johanan:
12:14. Of Milicho, Jonathan:  of Sebenia, Joseph:
12:15. Of Haram, Edna:  of Maraioth, Helci:
12:16. Of Adaia, Zacharia:  of Genthon, Mosollam:
12:17. Of Abia, Zechri:  of Miamin and Moadia, Phelti:
12:18. Of Belga, Sammua of Semaia, Jonathan:
12:19. Of Joiarib, Mathanai:  of Jodaia, Azzi:
12:20. Of Sellai, Celai:  of Amoc, Heber:
12:21. Of Helcias, Hasebia:  of Idaia, Nathanael.
12:22. The Levites the chiefs of the families in the days of Eliasib,
and Joiada, and Johanan, and Jeddoa, were recorded, and the priests in
the reign of Darius the Persian.
12:23. The sons of Levi, heads of the families were written in the book
of Chronicles, even unto the days of Jonathan the son of Eliasib.
12:24. Now the chief of the Levites were Hasebia, Serebia, and Josue
the son of Cedmihel:  and their brethren by their courses, to praise and
to give thanks according to the commandment of David the man of God,
and to wait equally in order.
12:25. Mathania, and Becbecia, Obedia, and Mosollam, Telmon, Accub,
were keepers of the gates and of the entrances before the gates.
12:26. These were in the days of Joacim the son of Josue, the son of
Josedec, and in the days of Nehemias the governor, and of Esdras the
priest and scribe.
12:27. And at the dedication of the wall of Jerusalem they sought the
Levites out of all their places, to bring them to Jerusalem, and to
keep the dedication, and to rejoice with thanksgiving, and with
singing, and with cymbals, and psalteries and harps.
12:28. And the sons of the singing men were gathered together out of
the plain country about Jerusalem, and out of the villages of
12:29. And from the house of Galgal, and from the countries of Geba and
Azmaveth:  for the singing men had built themselves villages round about
12:30. And the priests and the Levites were purified, and they purified
the people, and the gates, and the wall.
12:31. And I made the princes of Juda go up upon the wall, and I
appointed two great choirs to give praise.  And they went on the right
hand upon the wall toward the dung gate.
12:32. And after them went Osaias, and half of the princes of Juda,
12:33. And Azarias, Esdras, and Mosollam, Judas, and Benjamin, and
Semeia, and Jeremias.
12:34. And of the sons of the priests with trumpets, Zacharias the son
of Jonathan, the son of Semeia, the son of Mathania, the son of
Michaia, the son of Zechur, the son of Asaph,
12:35. And his brethren Semeia, and Azareel, Malalai, Galalai, Maai,
Nathanael, and Judas, and Hanani, with the musical instruments of David
the man of God:  and Esdras the scribe before them at the fountain gate.
12:36. And they went up over against them by the stairs of the city of
David, at the going up of the wall of the house of David, and to the
water gate eastward:
12:37. And the second choir of them that gave thanks went on the
opposite side, and I after them, and the half of the people upon the
wall, and upon the tower of the furnaces, even to the broad wall,
12:38. And above the gate of Ephraim, and above the old gate, and above
the fish gate and the tower of Hananeel, and the tower of Emath, and
even to the flock gate:  and they stood still in the watch gate.
12:39. And the two choirs of them that gave praise stood still at the
house of God, and I and the half of the magistrates with me.
12:40. And the priests, Eliachim, Maasia, Miamin, Michea, Elioenai,
Zacharia, Hanania with trumpets,
12:41. And Maasia, and Semeia, and Eleazar, and Azzi, and Johanan, and
Melchia, and Elam, and Ezer.  And the singers sung loud, and Jezraia was
their overseer:
12:42. And they sacrificed on that day great sacrifices, and they
rejoiced:  for God had made them joyful with great joy:  their wives also
and their children rejoiced, and the joy of Jerusalem was heard afar
12:43. They appointed also in that day men over the storehouses of the
treasure, for the libations, and for the firstfruits, and for the
tithes, that the rulers of the city might bring them in by them in
honour of thanksgiving, for the priests and Levites:  for Juda was
joyful in the priests and Levites that assisted.
12:44. And they kept the watch of their God, and the observance of
expiation, and the singing men, and the porters, according to the
commandment of David, and of Solomon his son.
12:45. For in the days of David and Asaph from the beginning there were
chief singers appointed, to praise with canticles, and give thanks to
12:46. And all Israel, in the days of Zorobabel, and in the days of
Nehemias gave portions to the singing men, and to the porters, day by
day, and they sanctified the Levites, and the Levites sanctified the
sons of Aaron.
Sanctified. . .That is, they gave them that which by the law was set
aside, and sanctified for their use.
2 Esdras Chapter 13
Divers abuses are reformed.
13:1. And on that day they read in the book of Moses in the hearing of
the people:  and therein was found written, that the Ammonites and the
Moabites should not come in to the church of God for ever:
13:2. Because they met not the children of Israel with bread and water:
and they hired against them Balaam, to curse them, and our God turned
the curse into blessing.
13:3. And it came to pass, when they had heard the law, that they
separated every stranger from Israel.
13:4. And over this thing was Eliasib the priest, who was set over the
treasury of the house of our God, and was near akin to Tobias.
Over this thing, etc. . .Or, he was faulty in this thing, or in this
13:5. And he made him a great storeroom, where before him they laid up
gifts, and frankincense, and vessels, and the tithes of the corn, of
the wine, and of the oil, the portions of the Levites, and of the
singing men, and of the porters, and the firstfruits of the priests.
13:6. But in all this time I was not in Jerusalem, because in the two
and thirtieth year of Artaxerxes king of Babylon, I went to the king,
and after certain days I asked the king:
13:7. And I came to Jerusalem, and I understood the evil that Eliasib
had done for Tobias, to make him a storehouse in the courts of the
house of God.
13:8. And it seemed to me exceeding evil.  And I cast forth the vessels
of the house of Tobias out of the storehouse.
13:9. And I commanded and they cleansed again the vessels of the house
of God, the sacrifice, and the frankincense.
13:10. And I perceived that the portions of the Levites had not been
given them:  and that the Levites, and the singing men, and they that
ministered were fled away every man to his own country:
13:11. And I pleaded the matter against the magistrates, and said:  Why
have we forsaken the house of God?  And I gathered them together, and I
made them to stand in their places.
13:12. And all Juda brought the tithe of the corn, and the wine, and
the oil into the storehouses.
13:13. And we set over the storehouses Selemias the priest, and Sadoc
the scribe, and of the Levites Phadaia, and next to them Hanan the son
of Zachur, the son of Mathania:  for they were approved as faithful, and
to them were committed the portions of their brethren.
13:14. Remember me, O my God, for this thing, and wipe not out my
kindnesses, which I have done relating to the house of my God and his
13:15. In those days I saw in Juda some treading the presses on the
sabbath, and carrying sheaves, and lading asses with wine, and grapes,
and figs, and all manner of burthens, and bringing them into Jerusalem
on the sabbath day.  And I charged them that they should sell on a day
on which it was lawful to sell.
13:16. Some Tyrians also dwelt there, who brought fish, and all manner
of wares:  and they sold them on the sabbaths to the children of Juda in
13:17. And I rebuked the chief men of Juda, and said to them:  What is
this evil thing that you are doing, profaning the sabbath day:
13:18. Did not our fathers do these things, and our God brought all
this evil upon us, and upon this city?  And you bring more wrath upon
Israel by violating the sabbath.
13:19. And it came to pass, that when the gates of Jerusalem were at
rest on the sabbath day, I spoke:  and they shut the gates, and I
commanded that they should not open them till after the sabbath:  and I
set some of my servants at the gates, that none should bring in
burthens on the sabbath day.
13:20. So the merchants, and they that sold all kinds of wares, stayed
without Jerusalem, once or twice.
13:21. And I charged them, and I said to them:  Why stay you before the
wall?  if you do so another time, I will lay hands on you.  And from that
time they came no more on the sabbath.
13:22. I spoke also to the Levites that they should be purified, and
should come to keep the gates, and to sanctify the sabbath day:  for
this also remember me, O my God, and spare me according to the
multitude of thy tender mercies.
13:23. In those days also I saw Jews that married wives, women of
Azotus, and of Ammon, and of Moab.
13:24. And their children spoke half in the speech of Azotus, and could
not speak the Jews' language, but they spoke according to the language
of this and that people.
13:25. And I chid them, and laid my curse upon them.  And I beat some of
them, and shaved off their hair, and made them swear by God that they
would not give their daughters to their sons, nor take their daughters
for their sons, nor for themselves, saying:
13:26. Did not Solomon king of Israel sin in this kind of thing:  and
surely among many nations, there was not a king like him, and he was
beloved of his God, and God made him king over all Israel:  and yet
women of other countries brought even him to sin.
13:27. And shall we also be disobedient and do all this great evil to
transgress against our God, and marry strange women:
13:28. And one of the sons of Joiada the son of Eliasib the high
priest, was son in law to Sanaballat the Horonite, and I drove him from
13:29. Remember them, O Lord my God, that defile the priesthood, and
the law of priests and Levites.
13:30. So I separated from them all strangers, and I appointed the
courses of the priests and the Levites, every man in his ministry:
13:31. And for the offering of wood at times appointed, and for the
firstfruits:  remember me, O my God, unto good.  Amen.
THE BOOK OF TOBIAS
This Book takes its name from the holy man Tobias, whose wonderful
virtues are herein recorded.  It contains most excellent documents of
great piety, extraordinary patience, and of a perfect resignation to
the will of God.  His humble prayer was heard, and the angel Raphael was
sent to relieve him:  he is thankful and praises the Lord, calling on
the children of Israel to do the same.  Having lived to the age of one
hundred and two years, he exhorts his son and grandsons to piety,
foretells the destruction of Ninive and the rebuilding of Jerusalem:  he
dies happily.
Tobias Chapter 1
Tobias's early piety:  his works of mercy, particularly in burying the
1:1. Tobias of the tribe and city of Nephtali, (which is in the upper
parts of Galilee above Naasson, beyond the way that leadeth to the
west, having on the right hand the city of Sephet,)
1:2. When he was made captive in the days of Salmanasar king of the
Assyrians, even in his captivity, forsook not the way of truth,
1:3. But every day gave all he could get to his brethren his fellow
captives, that were of his kindred.
1:4. And when he was younger than any of the tribe of Nephtali, yet did
he no childish thing in his work.
1:5. Moreover when all went to the golden calves which Jeroboam king of
Israel had made, he alone fled the company of all,
1:6. And went to Jerusalem to the temple of the Lord, and there adored
the Lord God of Israel, offering faithfully all his firstfruits, and
1:7. So that in the third year he gave all his tithes to the
proselytes, and strangers.
1:8. These and such like things did he observe when but a boy according
to the law of God.
1:9. But when he was a man, he took to wife Anna of his own tribe, and
had a son by her, whom he called after his own name,
1:10. And from his infancy he taught him to fear God, and to abstain
from all sin.
1:11. And when by the captivity he with his wife and his son and all
his tribe was come to the city of Ninive,
1:12. (When all ate of the meats of the Gentiles) he kept his soul and
never was defiled with their meats.
1:13. And because he was mindful of the Lord with all his heart, God
gave him favour in the sight of Salmanasar the king.
1:14. And he gave him leave to go whithersoever he would, with liberty
to do whatever he had a mind.
1:15. He therefore went to all that were in captivity, and gave them
wholesome admonitions.
1:16. And when he was come to Rages a city of the Medes, and had ten
talents of silver of that with which he had been honoured by the king:
1:17. And when amongst a great multitude of his kindred, he saw Gabelus
in want, who was one of his tribe, taking a note of his hand he gave
him the aforesaid sum of money.
1:18. But after a long time, Salmanasar the king being dead, when
Sennacherib his son, who reigned in his place, had a hatred for the
children of Israel:
1:19. Tobias daily went among all his kindred and comforted them, and
distributed to every one as he was able, out of his goods:
1:20. He fed the hungry, and gave clothes to the naked, and was careful
to bury the dead, and they that were slain.
1:21. And when king Sennacherib was come back, fleeing from Judea by
reason of the slaughter that God had made about him for his blasphemy,
and being angry slew many of the children of Israel, Tobias buried
their bodies.
1:22. But when it was told the king, he commanded him to be slain, and
took away all his substance.
1:23. But Tobias fleeing naked away with his son and with his wife, lay
concealed, for many loved him.
1:24. But after forty-five days, the king was killed by his own sons.
1:25. And Tobias returned to his house, and all his substance was
restored to him.
Tobias Chapter 2
Tobias leaveth his dinner to bury the dead:  he loseth his sight by
God's permission, for manifestation of his patience.
2:1. But after this, when there was a festival of the Lord, and a good
dinner was prepared in Tobias's house,
2:2. He said to his son:  Go, and bring some of our tribe that fear God,
to feast with us.
2:3. And when he had gone, returning he told him, that one of the
children of Israel lay slain in the street.  And he forthwith leaped up
from his place at the table, and left his dinner, and came fasting to
2:4. And taking it up carried it privately to his house, that after the
sun was down, he might bury him cautiously.
2:5. And when he had hid the body, he ate bread with mourning and fear,
2:6. Remembering the word which the Lord spoke by Amos the prophet:
Your festival days shall be turned into lamentation and mourning.
2:7. So when the sun was down, he went and buried him.
2:8. Now all his neighbours blamed him, saying:  once already
commandment was given for thee to be slain because of this matter, and
thou didst scarce escape the sentence of death, and dost thou again
bury the dead?
2:9. But Tobias fearing God more than the king, carried off the bodies
of them that were slain, and hid them in his house, and at midnight
buried them.
2:10. Now it happened one day that being wearied with burying, he came
to his house, and cast himself down by the wall and slept,
2:11. And as he was sleeping, hot dung out of a swallow's nest fell
upon his eyes, and he was made blind.
2:12. Now this trial the Lord therefore permitted to happen to him,
that an example might be given to posterity of his patience, as also of
2:13. For whereas he had always feared God from his infancy, and kept
his commandments, he repined not against God because the evil of
blindness had befallen him,
2:14. But continued immoveable in the fear of God, giving thanks to God
all the days of his life.
2:15. For as the kings insulted over holy Job:  so his relations and
kinsmen mocked at his life, saying:
Kings. . .So Job's three friends are here called, because they were
princes in their respective territories.
2:16. Where is thy hope, for which thou gavest alms, and buriedst the
2:17. But Tobias rebuked them, saying:  Speak not so:
2:18. For we are the children of saints, and look for that life which
God will give to those that never change their faith from him.
2:19. Now Anna his wife went daily to weaving work, and she brought
home what she could get for their living by the labour of her hands.
2:20. Whereby it came to pass, that she received a young kid, and
brought it home:
2:21. And when her husband heard it bleating, he said:  Take heed, lest
perhaps it be stolen:  restore ye it to its owners, for it is not lawful
for us either to eat or to touch any thing that cometh by theft.
2:22. At these words his wife being angry answered:  It is evident the
hope is come to nothing, and thy alms now appear.
2:23. And with these and other, such like words she upbraided him.
Tobias Chapter 3
The prayer of Tobias, and of Sara, in their several afflictions, are
heard by God, and the angel Raphael is sent to relieve them.
3:1. Then Tobias sighed, and began to pray with tears,
3:2. Saying, Thou art just, O Lord, and all thy judgments are just, and
all thy ways mercy, and truth, and judgment:
3:3. And now, O Lord, think of me, and take not revenge of my sins,
neither remember my offences, nor those of my parents.
3:4. For we have not obeyed thy commandments, therefore are we
delivered to spoil and to captivity, and death, and are made a fable,
and a reproach to all nations, amongst which thou hast scattered us.
3:5. And now, O Lord, great are thy judgments, because we have not done
according to thy precepts, and have not walked sincerely before thee.
3:6. And now, O Lord, do with me according to thy will, and command my
spirit to be received in peace:  for it is better for me to die, than to
3:7. Now it happened on the same day, that Sara daughter of Raguel, in
Rages a city of the Medes, received a reproach from one of her father's
servant maids,
Rages. . .In the Greek it is Ecbatana, which was also called Rages.  For
there were two cities in Media of the name of Rages.  Raguel dwelt in
one of them, and Gabelus in the other.
3:8. Because she had been given to seven husbands and a devil named
Asmodeus had killed them, at their first going in unto her.
3:9. So when she reproved the maid for her fault, she answered her,
saying:  May we never see son, or daughter of thee upon the earth, thou
murderer of thy husbands.
3:10. Wilt thou kill me also, as thou hast already killed seven
husbands?  At these words, she went into an upper chamber of her house:
and for three days and three nights did neither eat nor drink:
3:11. But continuing in prayer with tears besought God, that he would
deliver her from this reproach.
3:12. And it came to pass on the third day when she was making an end
of her prayer, blessing the Lord,
3:13. She said:  Blessed is thy name, O God of our fathers, who when
thou hast been angry, wilt shew mercy, and in the time of tribulation
forgivest the sins of them that call upon thee.
3:14. To thee, O Lord, I turn my face, to thee I direct my eyes.
3:15. I beg, O Lord, that thou loose me from the bond of this reproach,
or else take me away from the earth.
3:16. Thou knowest, O Lord, that I never coveted a husband, and have
kept my soul clean from all lust.
3:17. Never have I joined myself with them that play:  neither have I
made myself partaker with them that walk in lightness.
3:18. But a husband I consented to take, with thy fear, not with my
3:19. And either I was unworthy of them, or they perhaps were not
worthy of me:  because perhaps thou hast kept me for another man,
3:20. For thy counsel is not in man's power.
3:21. But this every one is sure of that worshippeth thee, that his
life, if it be under trial, shall be crowned and if it be under
tribulation, it shall be delivered:  and if it be under correction, it
shall be allowed to come to thy mercy.
3:22. For thou art not delighted in our being lost, because after a
storm thou makest a calm, and after tears and weeping thou pourest in
3:23. Be thy name, O God of Israel, blessed for ever,
3:24. At that time the prayers of them both were heard in the sight of
the glory of the most high God:
3:25. And the holy angel of the Lord, Raphael was sent to heal them
both, whose prayers at one time were rehearsed in the sight of the
Tobias Chapter 4
Tobias thinking he shall die, giveth his son godly admonitions:  and
telleth him of money he had lent to a friend.
4:1. Therefore when Tobias thought that his prayer was heard that he
might die, he called to him Tobias his son,
4:2. And said to him:  Hear, my son, the words of my mouth, and lay them
as a foundation in thy heart.
4:3. When God shall take my soul, thou shalt bury my body:  and thou
shalt honour thy mother all the days of her life:
4:4. For thou must be mindful what and how great perils she suffered
for thee in her womb.
4:5. And when she also shall have ended the time of her life, bury her
4:6. And all the days of thy life have God in thy mind:  and take heed
thou never consent to sin, nor transgress the commandments of the Lord
4:7. Give alms out of thy substance, and turn not away thy face from
any poor person:  for so it shall come to pass that the face of the Lord
shall not be turned from thee.
4:8. According to thy ability be merciful.
4:9. If thou have much give abundantly:  if thou have little, take care
even so to bestow willingly a little.
4:10. For thus thou storest up to thyself a good reward for the day of
4:11. For alms deliver from all sin, and from death, and will not
suffer the soul to go into darkness.
4:12. Alms shall be a great confidence before the most high God, to all
them that give it.
4:13. Take heed to keep thyself, my son, from all fornication, and
beside thy wife never endure to know a crime.
4:14. Never suffer pride to reign in thy mind, or in thy words:  for
from it all perdition took its beginning.
4:15. If any man hath done any work for thee, immediately pay him his
hire, and let not the wages of thy hired servant stay with thee at all.
4:16. See thou never do to another what thou wouldst hate to have done
to thee by another.
4:17. Eat thy bread with the hungry and the needy, and with thy
garments cover the naked,
4:18. Lay out thy bread, and thy wine upon the burial of a just man,
and do not eat and drink thereof with the wicked.
4:19. Seek counsel always of a wise man.
4:20. Bless God at all times:  and desire of him to direct thy ways, and
that all thy counsels may abide in him.
4:21. I tell thee also, my son, that I lent ten talents of silver,
while thou wast yet a child, to Gabelus, in Rages a city of the Medes,
and I have a note of his hand with me:
4:22. Now therefore inquire how thou mayst go to him, and receive of
him the foresaid sum of money, and restore to him the note of his hand.
4:23. Fear not, my son:  we lead indeed a poor life, but we shall have
many good things if we fear God, and depart from all sin, and do that
which is good.
Tobias Chapter 5
Young Tobias seeking a guide for his journey, the angel Raphael, in
shape of a man, undertaketh this office.
5:1. Then Tobias answered his father, and said:  I will do all things,
father, which thou hast commanded me.
5:2. But how I shall get this money, I cannot tell; he knoweth not me,
and I know not him:  what token shall I give him?  nor did I ever know
the way which leadeth thither.
5:3. Then his father answered him, and said:  I have a note of his hand
with me, which when thou shalt shew him, he will presently pay it.
5:4. But go now, and seek thee out some faithful man, to go with thee
for his hire:  that thou mayst receive it, while I yet live.
5:5. Then Tobias going forth, found a beautiful young man, standing
girded, and as it were ready to walk.
5:6. And not knowing that he was an angel of God, he saluted him, and
said:  From whence art thou, good young man?
5:7. But he answered:  Of the children of Israel.  And Tobias said to
him:  Knowest thou the way that leadeth to the country of the Medes?
5:8. And he answered:  I know it:  and I have often walked through all
the ways thereof, and I have abode with Gabelus our brother, who
dwelleth at Rages a city of the Medes, which is situate in the mount of
5:9. And Tobias said to him:  Stay for me, I beseech thee, till I tell
these same things to my father.
5:10. Then Tobias going in told all these things to his father.  Upon
which his father being in admiration, desired that he would come in
5:11. So going in he saluted him, and said:  Joy be to thee always.
5:12. And Tobias said:  What manner of joy shall be to me, who sit in
darkness and see not the light of heaven?
5:13. And the young man said to him:  Be of good courage, thy cure from
God is at hand.
5:14. And Tobias said to him:  Canst thou conduct my son to Gabelus at
Rages, a city of the Medes?  and when thou shalt return, I will pay thee
5:15. And the angel said to him:  I will conduct him thither, and bring
him back to thee.
5:16. And Tobias said to him:  I pray thee, tell me, of what family, or
what tribe art thou?
5:17. And Raphael the angel answered:  Dost thou seek the family of him
thou hirest, or the hired servant himself to go with thy son?
5:18. But lest I should make thee uneasy, I am Azarias the son of the
great Ananias.
Azarias. . .The angel took the form of Azarias:  and therefore might call
himself by the name of the man whom he personated.  Azarias, in Hebrew,
signifies the help of God, and Ananias the grace of God.
5:19. And Tobias answered:  Thou art of a great family.  But I pray thee
be not angry that I desired to know thy family.
5:20. And the angel said to him:  I will lead thy son safe, and bring
him to thee again safe.
5:21. And Tobias answering, said:  May you have a good journey, and God
be with you in your way, and his angel accompany you.
5:22. Then all things being ready, that were to be carried in their
journey, Tobias bade his father and his mother farewell, and they set
out both together.
5:23. And when they were departed, his mother began to weep, and to
say:  Thou hast taken the staff of our old age, and sent him away from
5:24. I wish the money for which thou hast sent him, had never been.
5:25. For our poverty was sufficient for us, that we might account it
as riches, that we saw our son.
5:26. And Tobias said to her:  Weep not, our son will arrive thither
safe, and will return safe to us, and thy eyes shall see him.
5:27. For I believe that the good angel of God doth accompany him, and
doth order all things well that are done about him, so that he shall
return to us with joy.
5:28. At these words his mother ceased weeping, and held her peace.
Tobias Chapter 6
By the angel's advice young Tobias taketh hold on a fish that
assaulteth him.  Reserveth the heart, the gall, and the liver for
medicines.  They lodge at the house of Raguel, whose daughter Sara,
Tobias is to marry; she had before been married to seven husbands, who
were all slain by a devil.
6:1. And Tobias went forward, and the dog followed him, and he lodged
the first night by the river of Tigris.
6:2. And he went out to wash his feet, and behold a monstrous fish came
up to devour him.
6:3. And Tobias being afraid of him, cried out with a loud voice,
saying:  Sir, he cometh upon me.
6:4. And the angel said to him:  Take him by the gill, and draw him to
thee.  And when he had done so, he drew him out upon the land, and he
began to pant before his feet.
6:5. Then the angel said to him:  Take out the entrails of this fish,
and lay up his heart, and his gall, and his liver for thee:  for these
are necessary for useful medicines.
6:6. And when he had done so, he roasted the flesh thereof, and they
took it with them in the way:  the rest they salted as much as might
serve them, till they came to Rages the city of the Medes.
6:7. Then Tobias asked the angel, and said to him:  I beseech thee,
brother Azarias, tell me what remedies are these things good for, which
thou hast bid me keep of the fish?
6:8. And the angel, answering, said to him:  If thou put a little piece
of its heart upon coals, the smoke thereof driveth away all kind of
devils, either from man or from woman, so that they come no more to
Its heart, etc.  The liver (ver. 19). . .God was pleased to give these
things a virtue against those proud spirits, to make them, who affected
to be like the Most High, subject to such mean corporeal creatures as
instruments of his power.
6:9. And the gall is good for anointing the eyes, in which there is a
white speck, and they shall be cured.
6:10. And Tobias said to him:  Where wilt thou that we lodge?
6:11. And the angel answering, said:  Here is one whose name is Raguel,
a near kinsman of thy tribe, and he hath a daughter named Sara, but he
hath no son nor any other daughter beside her.
6:12. All his substance is due to thee, and thou must take her to wife.
6:13. Ask her therefore of her father, and he will give her thee to
6:14. Then Tobias answered, and said:  I hear that she hath been given
to seven husbands, and they all died:  moreover I have heard, that a
devil killed them.
6:15. Now I am afraid, lest the same thing should happen to me also:
and whereas I am the only child of my parents, I should bring down
their old age with sorrow to hell.
Hell. . .That is, to the place where the souls of the good were kept
before the coming of Christ.
6:16. Then the angel Raphael said to him:  Hear me, and I will shew thee
who they are, over whom the devil can prevail.
6:17. For they who in such manner receive matrimony, as to shut out God
from themselves, and from their mind, and to give themselves to their
lust, as the horse and mule, which have not understanding, over them
the devil hath power.
6:18. But thou when thou shalt take her, go into the chamber, and for
three days keep thyself continent from her, and give thyself to nothing
else but to prayers with her.
6:19. And on that night lay the liver of the fish on the fire, and the
devil shall be driven away.
6:20. But the second night thou shalt be admitted into the society of
the holy Patriarchs.
6:21. And the third night thou shalt obtain a blessing that sound
children may be born of you.
6:22. And when the third night is past, thou shalt take the virgin with
the fear of the Lord, moved rather for love of children than for lust,
that in the seed of Abraham thou mayst obtain a blessing in children.
Tobias Chapter 7
They are kindly entertained by Raguel.  Tobias demandeth Sara to wife.
7:1. And they went in to Raguel, and Raguel received them with joy.
7:2. And Raguel looking upon Tobias, said to Anna his wife:  How like is
this young man to my cousin?
7:3. And when he had spoken these words, he said:  Whence are ye young
men our brethren?
7:4. But they said:  We are of the tribe of Nephtali, of the captivity
7:5. And Raguel said to them:  Do you know Tobias my brother?  And they
said:  We know him.
7:6. And when he was speaking many good things of him, the angel said
to Raguel:  Tobias concerning whom thou inquirest is this young man's
7:7. And Raguel went to him, and kissed him with tears and weeping upon
his neck, said:  A blessing be upon thee, my son, because thou art the
son of a good and most virtuous man.
7:8. And Anna his wife, and Sara their daughter wept.
7:9. And after they had spoken, Raguel commanded a sheep to be killed,
and a feast to be prepared.  And when he desired them to sit down to
7:10. Tobias said:  I will not eat nor drink here this day, unless thou
first grant me my petition, and promise to give me Sara thy daughter.
7:11. Now when Raguel heard this he was afraid, knowing what had
happened to those seven husbands, that went in unto her:  and he began
to fear lest it might happen to him also in like manner:  and as he was
in suspense, and gave no answer to his petition,
7:12. The angel said to him:  Be not afraid to give her to this man, for
to him who feareth God is thy daughter due to be his wife:  therefore
another could not have her.
7:13. Then Raguel said:  I doubt not but God hath regarded my prayers
and tears in his sight.
7:14. And I believe he hath therefore made you come to me, that this
maid might be married to one of her own kindred, according to the law
of Moses:  and now doubt not but I will give her to thee.
7:15. And taking the right hand of his daughter, he gave it into the
right hand of Tobias, saying:  The God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac,
and the God of Jacob be with you, and may he join you together, and
fulfil his blessing in you.
7:16. And taking paper they made a writing of the marriage.
7:17. And afterwards they made merry, blessing God.
7:18. And Raguel called to him Anna his wife, and bade her to prepare
another chamber.
7:19. And she brought Sara her daughter in thither, and she wept.
7:20. And she said to her:  Be of good cheer, my daughter:  the Lord of
heaven give thee joy for the trouble thou hast undergone.
Tobias Chapter 8
Tobias burneth part of the fish's liver, and Raphael bindeth the devil.
Tobias and Sara pray.
8:1. And after they had supped, they brought in the young man to her.
8:2. And Tobias remembering the angel's word, took out of his bag part
of the liver, and laid it upon burning coals.
8:3. Then the angel Raphael took the devil, and bound him in the desert
of upper Egypt.
8:4. Then Tobias exhorted the virgin, and said to her:  Sara, arise, and
let us pray to God to day, and to morrow, and the next day:  because for
these three nights we are joined to God:  and when the third night is
over, we will be in our own wedlock.
8:5. For we are the children of saints, and we must not be joined
together like heathens that know not God.
8:6. So they both arose, and prayed earnestly both together that health
might be given them,
8:7. And Tobias said:  Lord God of our fathers, may the heavens and the
earth, and the sea, and the fountains, and the rivers, and all thy
creatures that are in them, bless thee.
8:8. Thou madest Adam of the slime of the earth, and gavest him Eve for
8:9. And now, Lord, thou knowest, that not for fleshly lust do I take
my sister to wife, but only for the love of posterity, in which thy
name may be blessed for ever and ever.
8:10. Sara also said:  Have mercy on us, O Lord, have mercy on us, and
let us grow old both together in health.
8:11. And it came to pass about the cockcrowing, Raguel ordered his
servants to be called for, and they went with him together to dig a
8:12. For he said:  Lest perhaps it may have happened to him, in like
manner as it did to the other seven husbands, that went in unto her.
8:13. And when they had prepared the pit, Raguel went back to his wife,
and said to her:
8:14. Send one of thy maids, and let her see if he be dead, that I may
bury him before it be day.
8:15. So she sent one of her maidservants, who went into the chamber,
and found them safe and sound, sleeping both together.
8:16. And returning she brought the good news:  and Raguel and Anna his
wife blessed the Lord,
8:17. And said:  We bless thee, O Lord God of Israel, because it hath
not happened as we suspected.
8:18. For thou hast shewn thy mercy to us, and hast shut out from us
the enemy that persecuted us.
8:19. And thou hast taken pity upon two only children.  Make them, O
Lord, bless thee more fully:  and to offer up to thee a sacrifice of thy
praise, and of their health, that all nations may know, that thou alone
art God in all the earth.
8:20. And immediately Raguel commanded his servants, to fill up the pit
they had made, before it was day.
8:21. And he spoke to his wife to make ready a feast, and prepare all
kind of provisions that are necessary for such as go a journey.
8:22. He caused also two fat kine, and four wethers to be killed, and a
banquet to be prepared for all his neighbours, and all his friends,
8:23. And Raguel adjured Tobias, to abide with him two weeks.
8:24. And of all things which Raguel possessed, he gave one half to
Tobias, and made a writing, that the half that remained should after
their decease come also to Tobias.
Tobias Chapter 9
The angel Raphael goeth to Gabelus, receiveth the money, and bringeth
him to the marriage.
9:1. Then Tobias called the angel to him, whom he took to be a man, and
said to him:  Brother Azarias, I pray thee hearken to my words:
9:2. If I should give myself to be thy servant I should not make a
worthy return for thy care.
9:3. However, I beseech thee, to take with thee beasts and servants,
and to go to Gabelus to Rages the city of the Medes:  and to restore to
him his note of hand, and receive of him the money, and desire him to
come to my wedding.
9:4. For thou knowest that my father numbereth the days:  and if I stay
one day more, his soul will be afflicted.
9:5. And indeed thou seest how Raguel hath adjured me, whose adjuring I
cannot despise.
9:6. Then Raphael took four of Raguel's servants, and two camels, and
went to Rages the city of the Medes:  and finding Gabelus, gave him his
note of hand, and received of him all the money.
9:7. And he told him concerning Tobias the son of Tobias, all that had
been done:  and made him come with him to the wedding.
9:8. And when he was come into Raguel's house he found Tobias sitting
at the table:  and he leaped up, and they kissed each other:  and Gabelus
wept, and blessed God,
9:9. And said:  The God of Israel bless thee, because thou art the son
of a very good and just man, and that feareth God, and doth almsdeeds:
9:10. And may a blessing come upon thy wife and upon your parents.
9:11. And may you see your children, and your children's children, unto
the third and fourth generation:  and may your seed be blessed by the
God of Israel, who reigneth for ever and ever.
9:12. And when all had said, Amen, they went to the feast:  but the
marriage feast they celebrated also with the fear of the Lord.
Tobias Chapter 10
The parents lament the long absence of their son Tobias.  He sets out to
10:1. But as Tobias made longer stay upon occasion of the marriage,
Tobias his father was solicitous, saying:  Why thinkest thou doth my son
tarry, or why is he detained there?
10:2. Is Gabelus dead, thinkest thou, and no man will pay him the
10:3. And he began to be exceeding sad, both he and Anna his wife with
him:  and they began both to weep together, because their son did not
return to them on the day appointed.
10:4. But his mother wept and was quite disconsolate, and said:  Woe,
woe is me, my son; why did we send thee to go to a strange country, the
light of our eyes, the staff of our old age, the comfort of our life,
the hope of our posterity?
10:5. We having all things together in thee alone, ought not to have
let thee go from us.
10:6. And Tobias said to her:  Hold thy peace, and be not troubled, our
son is safe:  that man with whom we sent him is very trusty.
10:7. But she could by no means be comforted, but daily running out
looked round about, and went into all the ways by which there seemed
any hope he might return, that she might if possible see him coming
10:8. But Raguel said to his son in law:  Stay here, and I will send a
messenger to Tobias thy father, that thou art in health.
10:9. And Tobias said to him:  I know that my father and mother now
count the days, and their spirit is grievously afflicted within them.
10:10. And when Raguel had pressed Tobias with many words, and he by no
means would hearken to him, he delivered Sara unto him, and half of all
his substance in menservants, and womenservants, in cattle, in camels,
and in kine, and in much money, and sent him away safe and joyful from
10:11. Saying:  The holy angel of the Lord be with you in your journey,
and bring you through safe, and that you may find all things well about
your parents, and my eyes may see your children before I die.
10:12. And the parents taking their daughter kissed her, and let her
10:13. Admonishing her to honour her father and mother in law, to love
her husband, to take care of the family, to govern the house, and to
behave herself irreprehensibly.
Tobias Chapter 11
Tobias anointeth his father's eyes with the fish's gall, and he
recovereth his sight.
11:1. And as they were returning they came to Charan, which is in the
midway to Ninive, the eleventh day.
11:2. And the angel said:  Brother Tobias, thou knowest how thou didst
leave thy father.
11:3. If it please thee therefore, let us go before, and let the family
follow softly after us, together with thy wife, and with the beasts.
11:4. And as this their going pleased him, Raphael said to Tobias:  Take
with thee of the gall of the fish, for it will be necessary.  So Tobias
took some of that gall and departed.
11:5. But Anna sat beside the way daily, on the top of a hill, from
whence she might see afar off.
11:6. And while she watched his coming from that place, she saw him
afar off, and presently perceived it was her son coming:  and returning
she told her husband, saying:  Behold thy son cometh.
11:7. And Raphael said to Tobias:  As soon as thou shalt come into thy
house, forthwith adore the Lord thy God:  and giving thanks to him, go
to thy father, and kiss him.
11:8. And immediately anoint his eyes with this gall of the fish, which
thou carriest with thee.  For be assured that his eyes shall be
presently opened, and thy father shall see the light of heaven, and
shall rejoice in the sight of thee.
11:9. Then the dog, which had been with them in the way, ran before,
and coming as if he had brought the news, shewed his joy by his fawning
and wagging his tail.
The dog, etc. . .This may seem a very minute circumstance to be recorded
in sacred history:  but as we learn from our Saviour, St. Matt. 5.18,
there are iotas and tittles in the word of God:  that is to say, things
that appear minute, but which have indeed a deep and mysterious meaning
11:10. And his father that was blind, rising up, began to run stumbling
with his feet:  and giving a servant his hand, went to meet his son.
11:11. And receiving him kissed him, as did also his wife, and they
began to weep for joy.
11:12. And when they had adored God, and given him thanks, they sat
down together.
11:13. Then Tobias taking of the gall of the fish, anointed his
father's eyes.
11:14. And he stayed about half an hour:  and a white skin began to come
out of his eyes, like the skin of an egg.
11:15. And Tobias took hold of it, and drew it from his eyes, and
recovered his sight.
11:16. And they glorified God, both he and his wife and all that knew
11:17. And Tobias said:  I bless thee, O Lord God of Israel, because
thou hast chastised me, and thou hast saved me and behold I see Tobias
11:18. And after seven days Sara his son's wife and all the family
arrived safe, and the cattle, and the camels, and an abundance of money
of his wife's:  and that money also which he had received of Gabelus,
11:19. And he told his parents all the benefits of God, which he had
done to him by the man that conducted him.
11:20. And Achior and Nabath the kinsmen of Tobias came, rejoicing for
Tobias, and congratulating with him for all the good things that God
had done for him.
11:21. And for seven days they feasted and rejoiced all with great joy.
Tobias Chapter 12
Raphael maketh himself known.
12:1. Then Tobias called to him his son and said to him:  What can we
give to this holy man, that is come with thee?
12:2. Tobias answering, said to his father:  Father, what wages shall we
give him?  or what can be worthy of his benefits?
12:3. He conducted me and brought me safe again, he received the money
of Gabelus, he caused me to have my wife, and he chased from her the
evil spirit, he gave joy to her parents, myself he delivered from being
devoured by the fish, thee also he hath made to see the light of
heaven, and we are filled with all good things through him.  What can we
give him sufficient for these things?
12:4. But I beseech thee, my father, to desire him, that he would
vouchsafe to accept of one half of all things that have been brought.
12:5. So the father and the son calling him, took him aside:  and began
to desire him that he would vouchsafe to accept of half of all things
that they had brought,
12:6. Then he said to them secretly, Bless ye the God of heaven, give
glory to him in the sight of all that live, because he hath shewn his
mercy to you.
12:7. For it is good to hide the secret of a king:  to reveal and
confess the works of God.
12:8. Prayer is good with fasting and alms more than to lay up
treasures of gold.
12:9. For alms delivereth from death, and the same is that which
purgeth away sins, and maketh to find mercy and life everlasting.
12:10. But they that commit sin and iniquity, are enemies to their own
12:11. I discover then the truth unto you, and I will not hide the
secret from you.
12:12. When thou didst pray with tears, and didst bury the dead, and
didst leave thy dinner, and hide the dead by day in thy house, and bury
them by night, I offered thy prayer to the Lord.
12:13. And because thou wast acceptable to God, it was necessary that
temptation should prove thee.
12:14. And now the Lord hath sent me to heal thee, and to deliver Sara
thy son's wife from the devil.
12:15. For I am the angel Raphael, one of the seven, who stand before
12:16. And when they had heard these things, they were troubled, and
being seized with fear they fell upon the ground on their face.
12:17. And the angel said to them:  Peace be to you, fear not.
12:18. For when I was with you, I was there by the will of God:  bless
ye him, and sing praises to him.
12:19. I seemed indeed to eat and to drink with you but I use an
invisible meat and drink, which cannot be seen by men.
12:20. It is time therefore that I return to him that sent me:  but
bless ye God, and publish all his wonderful works.
12:21. And when he had said these things, he was taken from their
sight, and they could see him no more.
12:22. Then they lying prostrate for three hours upon their face,
blessed God, and rising up, they told all his wonderful works.
Tobias Chapter 13
Tobias the father praiseth God, exhorting all Israel to do the same.
Prophesieth the restoration and better state of Jerusalem.
13:1. And Tobias the elder opening his mouth, blessed the Lord, and
said:  Thou art great O Lord, for ever, and thy kingdom is unto all
13:2. For thou scourgest, and thou savest:  thou leadest down to hell,
and bringest up again:  and there is none that can escape thy hand.
13:3. Give glory to the Lord, ye children of Israel, and praise him in
the sight of the Gentiles:
13:4. Because he hath therefore scattered you among the Gentiles, who
know not him, that you may declare his wonderful works, and make them
know that there is no other almighty God besides him.
13:5. He hath chastised us for our iniquities:  and he will save us for
his own mercy.
13:6. See then what he hath done with us, and with fear and trembling
give ye glory to him:  and extol the eternal King of worlds in your
13:7. As for me, I will praise him in the land of my captivity:  because
he hath shewn his majesty toward a sinful nation,
13:8. Be converted therefore, ye sinners, and do justice before God,
believing that he will shew his mercy to you.
13:9. And I and my soul will rejoice in him.
13:10. Bless ye the Lord, all his elect, keep days of joy, and give
glory to him.
13:11. Jerusalem, city of God, the Lord hath chastised thee for the
works of thy hands.
Jerusalem. . .What is prophetically delivered here, and in the following
chapter, with relation to Jerusalem, is partly to be understood of the
rebuilding of the city after the captivity:  and partly of the spiritual
Jerusalem, which is the church of Christ, and the eternal Jerusalem in
13:12. Give glory to the Lord for thy good things, and bless the God
eternal that he may rebuild his tabernacle in thee, and may call back
all the captives to thee, and thou mayst rejoice for ever and ever.
13:13. Thou shalt shine with a glorious light:  and all the ends of the
earth shall worship thee,
13:14. Nations from afar shall come to thee:  and shall bring gifts, and
shall adore the Lord in thee, and shall esteem thy land as holy.
13:15. For they shall call upon the great name in thee,
13:16. They shall be cursed that shall despise thee:  and they shall be
condemned that shall blaspheme thee:  and blessed shall they be that
shall build thee up,
13:17. But thou shalt rejoice in thy children, because they shall all
be blessed, and shall be gathered together to the Lord.
13:18. Blessed are all they that love thee, and that rejoice in thy
13:19. My soul, bless thou the Lord, because the Lord our God hath
delivered Jerusalem his city from all her troubles.
13:20. Happy shall I be if there shall remain of my seed, to see the
glory of Jerusalem.
13:21. The gates of Jerusalem shall be built of sapphire, and of
emerald, and all the walls thereof round about of precious stones.
13:22. All its streets shall be paved with white and clean stones:  and
Alleluia shall be sung in its streets,
13:23. Blessed be the Lord, who hath exalted it, and may he reign over
it for ever and ever, Amen.
Tobias Chapter 14
Old Tobias dieth at the age of a hundred and two years, after exhorting
his son and grandsons to piety, foreshewing that Ninive shall be
destroyed, and Jerusalem rebuilt.  The younger Tobias returneth with his
family to Raguel, and dieth happily as he had lived.
14:1. And the words of Tobias were ended.  And after Tobias was restored
to his sight, he lived two and forty years, and saw the children of his
grandchildren.
14:2. And after he had lived a hundred and two years, he was buried
honorably in Ninive.
14:3. For he was six and fifty years old when he lost the sight of his
eyes, and sixty when he recovered it again.
14:4. And the rest of his life was in joy, and with great increase of
the fear of God he departed in peace.
14:5. And at the hour of his death he called unto him his son Tobias
and his children, seven young men, his grandsons, and said to them:
14:6. The destruction of Ninive is at hand:  for the word of the Lord
must be fulfilled:  and our brethren, that are scattered abroad from the
land of Israel, shall return to it.
14:7. And all the land thereof that is desert shall be filled with
people, and the house of God which is burnt in it, shall again be
rebuilt:  and all that fear God shall return thither.
14:8. And the Gentiles shall leave their idols, and shall come into
Jerusalem, and shall dwell in it.
14:9. And all the kings of the earth shall rejoice in it, adoring the
King of Israel.
14:10. Hearken therefore, my children, to your father:  serve the Lord
in truth, and seek to do the things that please him:
14:11. And command your children that they do justice and almsdeeds,
and that they be mindful of God, and bless him at all times in truth,
and with all their power.
14:12. And now, children, hear me, and do not stay here:  but as soon as
you shall bury your mother by me in one sepulchre, without delay direct
your steps to depart hence:
14:13. For I see that its iniquity will bring it to destruction.
14:14. And it came to pass that after the death of his mother, Tobias
departed out of Ninive with his wife, and children, and children's
children, and returned to his father and mother in law.
14:15. And he found them in health in a good old age:  and he took care
of them, and he closed their eyes:  and all the inheritance of Raguel's
house came to him:  and he saw his children's children to the fifth
14:16. And after he had lived ninety-nine years in the fear of the
Lord, with joy they buried him.
14:17. And all his kindred, and all his generation continued in good
life, and in holy conversation, so that they were acceptable both to
God, and to men, and to all that dwelt in the land.
THE BOOK OF JUDITH
The sacred writer of this Book is generally believed to be the high
priest Eliachim (called also Joachim).  The transactions herein related,
most probably happened in his days, and in the reign of Manasses, after
his repentance and return from captivity.  It takes its name from that
illustrious woman, by whose virtue and fortitude, and armed with
prayer, the children of Israel were preserved from the destruction
threatened them by Holofernes and his great army.  It finishes with her
canticle of thanksgiving to God.
Judith Chapter 1
Nabuchodonosor king of the Assyrians overcometh Arphaxad king of the
1:1. Now Arphaxad king of the Medes had brought many nations under his
dominions, and he built a very strong city, which he called Ecbatana,
Arphaxad. . .He was probably the same as is called Dejoces by Herodotus;
to whom he attributes the building of Ecbatana, the capital city of
1:2. Of stones squared and hewed:  he made the walls thereof seventy
cubits broad, and thirty cubits high, and the towers thereof he made a
hundred cubits high.  But on the square of them, each side was extended
the space of twenty feet.
1:3. And he made the gates thereof according to the height of the
1:4. And he gloried as a mighty one in the force of his army and in the
glory of his chariots.
1:5. Now in the twelfth year of his reign, Nabuchodonosor king of the
Assyrians, who reigned in Ninive the great city, fought against
Arphaxad and overcame him,
Nabuchodonosor. . .Not the king of Babylon, who took and destroyed
Jerusalem, but another of the same name, who reigned in Ninive:  and is
called by profane historians Saosduchin.  He succeeded Asarhaddan in the
kingdom of the Assyrians, and was contemporary with Manasses king of
1:6. In the great plain which is called Ragua, about the Euphrates, and
the Tigris, and the Jadason, in the plain of Erioch the king of the
1:7. Then was the kingdom of Nabuchodonosor exalted, and his heart was
elevated:  and he sent to all that dwelt in Cilicia and Damascus, and
1:8. And to the nations that are in Carmelus, and Cedar, and to the
inhabitants of Galilee in the great plain of Asdrelon,
1:9. And to all that were in Samaria, and beyond the river Jordan even
to Jerusalem, and all the land of Jesse till you come to the borders of
1:10. To all these Nabuchodonosor king of the Assyrians, sent
1:11. But they all with one mind refused, and sent them back empty, and
rejected them without honour.
1:12. Then king Nabuchodonosor being angry against all that land, swore
by his throne and kingdom that he would revenge himself of all those
Judith Chapter 2
Nabuchodonosor sendeth Holofernes to waste the countries of the west.
2:1. In the thirteenth year of the reign of Nabuchodonosor, the two and
twentieth day of the first month, the word was given out in the house
of Nabuchodonosor king of the Assyrians, that he would revenge himself.
2:2. And he called all the ancients, and all the governors, and his
officers of war, and communicated to them the secret of his counsel:
2:3. And he said that his thoughts were to bring all the earth under
2:4. And when this saying pleased them all, Nabuchodonosor, the king,
called Holofernes the general of his armies,
2:5. And said to him:  Go out against all the kingdoms of the west, and
against them especially that despised my commandment.
2:6. Thy eye shall not spare any kingdom, and all the strong cities
thou shalt bring under my yoke.
2:7. Then Holofernes called the captains, and officers of the power of
the Assyrians:  and he mustered men for the expedition, and the king
commanded him, a hundred and twenty thousand fighting men on foot, and
twelve thousand archers, horsemen.
2:8. And he made all his warlike preparations to go before with a
multitude of innumerable camels, with all provisions sufficient for the
armies in abundance, and herds of oxen, and flocks of sheep, without
2:9. He appointed corn to be prepared out of all Syria in his passage.
2:10. But gold and silver he took out of the king's house in great
2:11. And he went forth he and all the army, with the chariots, and
horsemen, and archers, who covered the face of the earth, like locusts.
2:12. And when he had passed through the borders of the Assyrians, he
came to the great mountains of Ange, which are on the left of Cilicia:
and he went up to all their castles, and took all the strong places.
2:13. And he took by assault the renowned city of Melothus, and
pillaged all the children of Tharsis, and the children of Ismahel, who
were over against the face of the desert, and on the south of the land
2:14. And he passed over the Euphrates and came into Mesopotamia:  and
he forced all the stately cities that were there, from the torrent of
Mambre, till one comes to the sea:
2:15. And he took the borders thereof, from Cilicia to the coasts of
Japheth, which are towards the south.
2:16. And he carried away all the children of Madian, and stripped them
of all their riches, and all that resisted him he slew with the edge of
2:17. And after these things he went down into the plains of Damascus
in the days of the harvest, and he set all the corn on fire, and he
caused all the trees and vineyards to be cut down.
2:18. And the fear of them fell upon all the inhabitants of the land.
Judith Chapter 3
Many submit themselves to Holofernes.  He destroyeth their cities, and
their gods, that Nabuchodonosor only might be called God.
3:1. Then the kings and the princes of all the cities and provinces, of
Syria, Mesopotamia, and Syria Sobal, and Libya, and Cilicia sent their
ambassadors, who coming to Holofernes, said:
3:2. Let thy indignation towards us cease, for it is better for us to
live and serve Nabuchodonosor the great king, and be subject to thee,
than to die and to perish, or suffer the miseries of slavery.
3:3. All our cities and our possessions, all mountains and hills, and
fields, and herds of oxen, and flocks of sheep, and goats, and horses,
and camels, and all our goods, and families are in thy sight:
3:4. Let all we have be subject to thy law,
3:5. Both we and our children are thy servants.
3:6. Come to us a peaceable lord, and use our service as it shall
please thee,
3:7. Then he came down from the mountains with horsemen, in great
power, and made himself master of every city, and all the inhabitants
of the land.
3:8. And from all the cities he took auxiliaries valiant men, and
chosen for war,
3:9. And so great a fear lay upon all those provinces, that the
inhabitants of all the cities, both princes and nobles, as well as the
people, went out to meet him at his coming.
3:10. And received him with garlands, and lights, and dances, and
timbrels, and flutes.
3:11. And though they did these things, they could not for all that
mitigate the fierceness of his heart:
3:12. For he both destroyed their cities, and cut down their groves.
3:13. For Nabuchodonosor the king had commanded him to destroy all the
gods of the earth, that he only might be called God by those nations
which could be brought under him by the power of Holofernes.
3:14. And when he had passed through all Syria Sobal, and all Apamea,
and all Mesopotamia, he came to the Idumeans into the land of Gabaa,
3:15. And he took possession of their cities, and stayed there for
thirty days, in which days he commanded all the troops of his army to
Judith Chapter 4
The children of Israel prepare themselves to resist Holofernes.  They
cry to the Lord for help.
4:1. Then the children of Israel, who dwelt in the land of Juda,
hearing these things, were exceedingly afraid of him.
4:2. Dread and horror seized upon their minds, lest he should do the
same to Jerusalem and to the temple of the Lord, that he had done to
other cities and their temples.
4:3. And they sent into all Samaria round about, as far as Jericho, and
seized upon all the tops of the mountains:
4:4. And they compassed their towns with walls and gathered together
corn for provision for war.
4:5. And Eliachim the priest wrote to all that were over against
Esdrelon, which faceth the great plain near Dothain, and to all by whom
there might be a passage of way, that they should take possession of
the ascents of the mountains, by which there might be any way to
Jerusalem, and should keep watch where the way was narrow between the
4:6. And the children of Israel did as the priests of the Lord Eliachim
had appointed them.
4:7. And all the people cried to the Lord with great earnestness, and
they humbled their souls in fastings, and prayers, both they and their
4:8. And the priests put on haircloths, and they caused the little
children to lie prostrate before the temple of the Lord, and the altar
of the Lord they covered with haircloth.
4:9. And they cried to the Lord the God of Israel with one accord, that
their children might not be made a prey, and their wives carried off,
and their cities destroyed, and their holy things profaned, and that
they might not be made a reproach to the Gentiles.
4:10. Then Eliachim the high priest of the Lord went about all Israel
and spoke to them,
4:11. Saying:  Know ye that the Lord will hear your prayers, if you
continue with perseverance in fastings and prayers in the sight of the
4:12. Remember Moses the servant of the Lord overcame Amalec that
trusted in his own strength, and in his power, and in his army, and in
his shields, and in his chariots, and in his horsemen, not by fighting
with the sword, but by holy prayers:
4:13. So all the enemies of Israel be, if you persevere in this work
which you have begun.
4:14. So they being moved by this exhortation of his, prayed to the
Lord, and continued in the sight of the Lord.
4:15. So that even they who offered the holocausts to the Lord, offered
the sacrifices to the Lord girded with haircloths, and with ashes upon
4:16. And they all begged of God with all their heart, that he would
visit his people Israel.
Judith Chapter 5
Achior gives Holofernes an account of the people of Israel.
5:1. And it was told Holofernes the general of the army of the
Assyrians, that the children of Israel prepared themselves to resist,
and had shut up the ways of the mountains.
5:2. And he was transported with exceeding great fury and indignation,
and he called all the princes of Moab and the leaders of Ammon.
5:3. And he said to them:  Tell me what is this people that besetteth
the mountains:  or what are their cities, and of what sort, and how
great:  also what is their power, or what is their multitude:  or who is
the king over their warfare:
5:4. And why they above all that dwell in the east, have despised us,
and have not come out to meet us, that they might receive us with
5:5. Then Achior captain of all the children of Ammon answering, said;
If thou vouchsafe, my lord, to hear, I will tell the truth in thy sight
concerning this people, that dwelleth in the mountains, and there shall
not a false word come out of my mouth.
5:6. This people is of the offspring of the Chaldeans.
5:7. They dwelt first in Mesopotamia, because they would not follow the
gods of their fathers, who were in the land of the Chaldeans.
5:8. Wherefore forsaking the ceremonies of their fathers, which
consisted in the worship of many gods,
5:9. They worshipped one God of heaven, who also commanded them to
depart from thence, and to dwell in Charan.  And when there was a famine
over all the land, they went down into Egypt, and there for four
hundred years were so multiplied, that the army of them could not be
5:10. And when the king of Egypt oppressed them, and made slaves of
them to labour in clay and brick, in the building of his cities, they
cried to their Lord, and he struck the whole land of Egypt with divers
5:11. And when the Egyptians had cast them out from them, and the
plague had ceased from them, and they had a mind to take them again,
and bring them back to their service,
5:12. The God of heaven opened the sea to them in their flight, so that
the waters were made to stand firm as a wall on either side, and they
walked through the bottom of the sea and passed it dry foot.
5:13. And when an innumerable army of the Egyptians pursued after them
in that place, they were so overwhelmed with the waters, that there was
not one left, to tell what had happened to posterity.
5:14. After they came out of the Red Sea, they abode in the deserts of
mount Sina, in which never man could dwell, or son of man rested.
5:15. There bitter fountains were made sweet for them to drink, and for
forty years they received food from heaven.
5:16. Wheresoever they went in without bow and arrow, and without
shield and sword, their God fought for them and overcame.
5:17. And there was no one that triumphed over this people, but when
they departed from the worship of the Lord their God.
5:18. But as often as beside their own God, they worshipped any other,
they were given to spoil and to the sword, and to reproach.
5:19. And as often as they were penitent for having revolted from the
worship of their God, the God of heaven gave them power to resist.
5:20. So they overthrew the king of the Chanaanites, and of the
Jebusites, and of the Pherezites, and of the Hethites, and of the
Hevites, and of the Amorrhites, and all the mighty ones in Hesebon, and
they possessed their lands, and their cities:
5:21. And as long as they sinned not in the sight of their God, it was
well with them:  for their God hateth iniquity.
5:22. And even some years ago when they had revolted from the way which
God had given them to walk therein, they were destroyed in battles by
many nations and very many of them were led away captive into a strange
5:23. But of late returning to the Lord their God, from the different
places wherein they were scattered, they are come together and are gone
up into all these mountains, and possess Jerusalem again, where their
5:24. Now therefore, my lord, search if there be any iniquity of theirs
in the sight of their God:  let us go up to them, because their God will
surely deliver them to thee, and they shall be brought under the yoke
of thy power:
5:25. But if there be no offence of this people in the sight of their
God, we cannot resist them because their God will defend them:  and we
shall be a reproach to the whole earth.
5:26. And it came to pass, when Achior had ceased to speak these words,
all the great men of Holofernes were angry, and they had a mind to kill
him, saying to each other:
5:27. Who is this, that saith the children of Israel can resist king
Nabuchodonosor, and his armies, men unarmed, and without force, and
without skill in the art of war?
5:28. That Achior therefore may know that he deceiveth us, let us go up
into the mountains:  and when the bravest of them shall be taken, then
shall he with them be stabbed with the sword,
5:29. That every nation may know that Nabuchodonosor is god of the
earth, and besides him there is no other.
Judith Chapter 6
Holofernes in great rage sendeth Achior to Bethulia, there to be slain
with the Israelites.
6:1. And it came to pass when they had left off speaking, that
Holofernes being in a violent passion, said to Achior:
6:2. Because thou hast prophesied unto us, saying:  That the nation of
Israel is defended by their God, to shew thee that there is no God, but
Nabuchodonosor:
6:3. When we shall slay them all as one man, then thou also shalt die
with them by the sword of the Assyrians, and all Israel shall perish
6:4. And thou shalt find that Nabuchodonosor is lord of the whole
earth:  and then the sword of my soldiers shall pass through thy sides,
and thou shalt be stabbed and fall among the wounded of Israel, and
thou shalt breathe no more till thou be destroyed with them.
6:5. But if thou think thy prophecy true, let not thy countenance sink,
and let the paleness that is in thy face, depart from thee, if thou
imaginest these my words cannot be accomplished.
6:6. And that thou mayst know that thou shalt experience these things
together with them, behold from this hour thou shalt be associated to
their people, that when they shall receive the punishment they deserve
from my sword, thou mayst fall under the same vengeance.
6:7. Then Holofernes commanded his servants to take Achior, and to lead
him to Bethulia, and to deliver him into the hands of the children of
6:8. And the servants of Holofernes taking him, went through the
plains:  but when they came near the mountains, the slingers came out
against them.
6:9. Then turning out of the way by the side of the mountain, they tied
Achior to a tree hand and foot, and so left him bound with ropes, and
returned to their master.
6:10. And the children of Israel coming down from Bethulia, came to
him, and loosing him they brought him to Bethulia, and setting him in
the midst of the people, asked him what was the matter that the
Assyrians had left him bound.
6:11. In those days the rulers there, were Ozias the son of Micha of
the tribe of Simeon, and Charmi, called also Gothoniel.
6:12. And Achior related in the midst of the ancients, and in the
presence of all the people, all that he had said being asked by
Holofernes:  and how the people of Holofernes would have killed him for
6:13. And how Holofernes himself being angry had commanded him to be
delivered for this cause to the Israelites:  that when he should
overcome the children of Israel, then he might command Achior also
himself to be put to death by diverse torments, for having said:  The
God of heaven is their defender.
6:14. And when Achior had declared all these things, all the people
fell upon their faces, adoring the Lord, and all of them together
mourning and weeping poured out their prayers with one accord to the
6:15. Saying:  O Lord God of heaven and earth, behold their pride, and
look on our low condition, and have regard to the face of thy saints,
and shew that thou forsakest not them that trust on thee, and that thou
humblest them that presume of themselves, and glory in their own
6:16. So when their weeping was ended, and the people's prayer, in
which they continued all the day, was concluded, they comforted Achior,
6:17. Saying:  The God of our fathers, whose power thou hast set forth,
will make this return to thee, that thou rather shalt see their
destruction.
6:18. And when the Lord our God shall give this liberty to his
servants, let God be with thee also in the midst of us:  that as it
shall please thee, so thou with all thine mayst converse with us.
6:19. Then Ozias, after the assembly was broken up, received him into
his house, and made him a great supper.
6:20. And all the ancients were invited, and they refreshed themselves
together after their fast was over.
6:21. And afterwards all the people were called together, and they
prayed all the night long within the church, desiring help of the God
The church. . .That is, the synagogue or place where they met for
Judith Chapter 7
Holofernes besiegeth Bethulia.  The distress of the besieged.
7:1. But Holofernes on the next day gave orders to his army, to go up
against Bethulia.
7:2. Now there were in his troops a hundred and twenty thousand
footmen, and two and twenty thousand horsemen, besides the preparations
of those men who had been taken, and who had been brought away out of
the provinces and cities of all the youth.
7:3. All these prepared themselves together to fight against the
children of Israel, and they came by the hillside to the top, which
looketh toward Dothain, from the place which is called Belma, unto
Chelmon, which is over against Esdrelon.
7:4. But the children of Israel, when they saw the multitude of them,
prostrated themselves upon the ground, putting ashes upon their heads,
praying with one accord, that the God of Israel would shew his mercy
upon his people.
7:5. And taking their arms of war, they posted themselves at the
places, which by a narrow pathway lead directly between the mountains,
and they guarded them all day and night.
7:6. Now Holofernes, in going round about, found that the fountain
which supplied them with water, ran through an aqueduct without the
city on the south side:  and he commanded their aqueduct to be cut off.
7:7. Nevertheless there were springs not far from the walls, out of
which they were seen secretly to draw water, to refresh themselves a
little rather than to drink their fill.
7:8. But the children of Ammon and Moab came to Holofernes, saying:  The
children of Israel trust not in their spears, nor in their arrows, but
the mountains are their defence, and the steep hills and precipices
7:9. Wherefore that thou mayst overcome them without joining battle,
set guards at the springs that they may not draw water out of them, and
thou shalt destroy them without sword, or at least being wearied out
they will yield up their city, which they suppose, because it is
situate in the mountains, to be impregnable.
7:10. And these words pleased Holofernes, and his officers, and he
placed all round about a hundred men at every spring.
7:11. And when they had kept this watch for full twenty days, the
cisterns, and the reserve of waters failed among all the inhabitants of
Bethulia, so that there was not within the city, enough to satisfy
them, no not for one day, for water was daily given out to the people
7:12. Then all the men and women, young men, and children, gathering
themselves together to Ozias, all together with one voice,
7:13. Said:  God be judge between us and thee, for thou hast done evil
against us, in that thou wouldst not speak peaceably with the
Assyrians, and for this cause God hath sold us into their hands.
7:14. And therefore there is no one to help us, while we are cast down
before their eyes in thirst, and sad destruction.
7:15. And now assemble ye all that are in the city, that we may of our
own accord yield ourselves all up to the people of Holofernes.
7:16. For it is better, that being captives we should live and bless
the Lord, than that we should die, and be a reproach to all flesh,
after we have seen our wives and our infants die before our eyes.
7:17. We call to witness this day heaven and earth, and the God of our
fathers, who taketh vengeance upon us according to our sins, conjuring
you to deliver now the city into the hand of the army of Holofernes,
that our end may be short by the edge of the sword, which is made
longer by the drought of thirst.
7:18. And when they had said these things, there was great weeping and
lamentation of all in the assembly, and for many hours with one voice
they cried to God, saying:
7:19. We have sinned with our fathers, we have done unjustly, we have
committed iniquity:
7:20. Have thou mercy on us, because thou art good, or punish our
iniquities by chastising us thyself, and deliver not them that trust in
thee to a people that knoweth not thee,
7:21. That they may not say among the Gentiles:  Where is their God?
7:22. And when being wearied with these cries, and tired with these
weepings, they held their peace,
7:23. Ozias rising up all in tears, said:  Be of good courage, my
brethren, and let us wait these five days for mercy from the Lord.
7:24. For perhaps he will put a stop to his indignation, and will give
glory to his own name.
7:25. But if after five days be past there come no aid, we will do the
things which you have spoken.
Judith Chapter 8
The character of Judith:  her discourse to the ancients.
8:1. Now it came to pass, when Judith a widow had heard these words,
who was the daughter of Merari, the son of Idox, the son of Joseph, the
son of Ozias, the son of Elai, the son of Jamnor, the son of Gedeon,
the son of Raphaim, the son of Achitob, the son of Melchias, the son of
Enan, the son of Nathanias, the son of Salathiel, the son of Simeon,
the son of Ruben:
Simeon the son of Ruben. . .In the Greek, it is the son of Israel.  For
Simeon the patriarch, from whom Judith descended, was not the son, but
the brother of Ruben.  It seems more probable that the Simeon and the
Ruben here mentioned are not the patriarchs:  but two of the descendants
of the patriarch Simeon:  and that the genealogy of Judith, recorded in
this place, is not carried up so high as the patriarchs.  No more than
that of Elcana the father of Samuel, 1 Kings 1.1, and that of king
Saul, 1 Kings 9.1.
8:2. And her husband was Manasses, who died in the time of the barley
8:3. For he was standing over them that bound sheaves in the field; and
the heat came upon his head, and he died in Bethulia his own city, and
was buried there with his fathers.
8:4. And Judith his relict was a widow now three years and six months.
8:5. And she made herself a private chamber in the upper part of her
house, in which she abode shut up with her maids.
8:6. And she wore haircloth upon her loins, and fasted all the days of
her life, except the sabbaths, and new moons, and the feasts of the
house of Israel.
8:7. And she was exceedingly beautiful, and her husband left her great
riches, and very many servants, and large possessions of herds of oxen,
and flocks of sheep.
8:8. And she was greatly renowned among all, because she feared the
Lord very much, neither was there any one that spoke an ill word of
8:9. When therefore she had heard that Ozias had promised that he would
deliver up the city after the fifth day, she sent to the ancients
Chabri and Charmi.
8:10. And they came to her, and she said to them:  What is this word, by
which Ozias hath consented to give up the city to the Assyrians, if
within five days there come no aid to us?
8:11. And who are you that tempt the Lord?
8:12. This is not a word that may draw down mercy, but rather that may
stir up wrath, and enkindle indignation.
8:13. You have set a time for the mercy of the Lord, and you have
appointed him a day, according to your pleasure.
8:14. But forasmuch as the Lord is patient, let us be penitent for this
same thing, and with many tears let us beg his pardon:
8:15. For God will not threaten like man, nor be inflamed to anger like
the son of man.
8:16. And therefore let us humble our souls before him, and continuing
in an humble spirit, in his service:
8:17. Let us ask the Lord with tears, that according to his will so he
would shew his mercy to us:  that as our heart is troubled by their
pride, so also we may glorify in our humility.
8:18. For we have not followed the sins of our fathers, who forsook
their God, and worshipped strange gods.
8:19. For which crime they were given up to their enemies, to the
sword, and to pillage, and to confusion:  but we know no other God but
8:20. Let us humbly wait for his consolation, and the Lord our God will
require our blood of the afflictions of our enemies, and he will humble
all the nations that shall rise up against us, and bring them to
8:21. And now, brethren, as you are the ancients among the people of
God, and their very soul resteth upon you:  comfort their hearts by your
speech, that they may be mindful how our fathers were tempted that they
might be proved, whether they worshipped their God truly.
8:22. They must remember how our father Abraham was tempted, and being
proved by many tribulations, was made the friend of God.
8:23. So Isaac, so Jacob, so Moses, and all that have pleased God,
passed through many tribulations, remaining faithful.
8:24. But they that did not receive the trials with the fear of the
Lord, but uttered their impatience and the reproach of their murmuring
against the Lord,
8:25. Were destroyed by the destroyer, and perished by serpents.
8:26. As for us therefore let us not revenge ourselves for these things
which we suffer.
8:27. But esteeming these very punishments to be less than our sins
deserve, let us believe that these scourges of the Lord, with which
like servants we are chastised, have happened for our amendment, and
not for our destruction.
8:28. And Ozias and the ancients said to her:  All things which thou
hast spoken are true, and there is nothing to be reprehended in thy
8:29. Now therefore pray for us, for thou art a holy woman, and one
fearing God.
8:30. And Judith said to them:  As you know that what I have been able
to say is of God:
8:31. So that which I intend to do prove ye if it be of God, and pray
that God may strengthen my design.
8:32. You shall stand at the gate this night, and I will go out with my
maidservant:  and pray ye, that as you have said, in five days the Lord
may look down upon his people Israel.
8:33. But I desire that you search not into what I am doing, and till I
bring you word let nothing else be done but to pray for me to the Lord
8:34. And Ozias the prince of Juda said to her:  Go in peace, and the
Lord be with thee to take revenge of our enemies.  So returning they
Judith Chapter 9
Judith's prayer, to beg of God to fortify her in her undertaking.
9:1. And when they were gone, Judith went into her oratory:  and putting
on haircloth, laid ashes on her head:  and falling down prostrate before
the Lord, she cried to the Lord, saying:
9:2. Lord God of my father Simeon, who gavest him a sword to execute
vengeance against strangers, who had defiled by their uncleanness, and
uncovered the virgin unto confusion:
Gavest him a sword, etc. . .The justice of God is here praised, in
punishing by the sword of Simeon the crime of the Sichemites:  and not
the act of Simeon, which was justly condemned by his father, Gen. 49.5.
Though even with regard to this act, we may distinguish between his
zeal against the crime committed by the ravishers of his sister, which
zeal may be considered just:  and the manner of his punishing that
crime, which was irregular and excessive.
9:3. And who gavest their wives to be made a prey, and their daughters
into captivity:  and all their spoils to be divided to the servants, who
were zealous with thy zeal:  assist, I beseech thee, O Lord God, me a
9:4. For thou hast done the things of old, and hast devised one thing
after another:  and what thou hast designed hath been done.
9:5. For all thy ways are prepared, and in thy providence thou hast
placed thy judgments.
9:6. Look upon the camp of the Assyrians now, as thou wast pleased to
look upon the camp of the Egyptians, when they pursued armed after thy
servants, trusting in their chariots, and in their horsemen, and in a
multitude of warriors.
9:7. But thou lookedst over their camp, and darkness wearied them.
9:8. The deep held their feet, and the waters overwhelmed them.
9:9. So may it be with these also, O Lord, who trust in their
multitude, and in their chariots, and in their pikes, and in their
shields, and in their arrows, and glory in their spears,
9:10. And know not that thou art our God, who destroyest wars from the
beginning, and the Lord is thy name.
9:11. Lift up thy arm as from the beginning, and crush their power with
thy power:  let their power fall in their wrath, who promise themselves
to violate thy sanctuary, and defile the dwelling place of thy name,
and to beat down with their sword the horn of thy altar.
9:12. Bring to pass, O Lord, that his pride may be cut off with his own
9:13. Let him be caught in the net of his own eyes in my regard, and do
thou strike him by the graces of the words of my lips.
9:14. Give me constancy in my mind, that I may despise him:  and
fortitude that I may overthrow him.
9:15. For this will be a glorious monument for thy name, when he shall
fall by the hand of a woman.
9:16. For thy power, O Lord, is not in a multitude, nor is thy pleasure
in the strength of horses, nor from the beginning have the proud been
acceptable to thee:  but the prayer of the humble and the meek hath
always pleased thee.
9:17. O God of the heavens, creator of the waters, and Lord of the
whole creation, hear me a poor wretch, making supplication to thee, and
presuming of thy mercy.
9:18. Remember, O Lord, thy covenant, and put thou words in my mouth,
and strengthen the resolution in my heart, that thy house may continue
in thy holiness:
9:19. And all nations may acknowledge that thou art God, and there is
no other besides thee.
Judith Chapter 10
Judith goeth out towards the camp, and is taken, and brought to
10:1. And it came to pass, when she had ceased to cry to the Lord, that
she rose from the place wherein she lay prostrate before the Lord.
10:2. And she called her maid, and going down into her house she took
off her haircloth, and put away the garments of her widowhood,
10:3. And she washed her body, and anointed herself with the best
ointment, and plaited the hair of her head, and put a bonnet upon her
head, and clothed herself with the garments of her gladness, and put
sandals on her feet, and took her bracelets, and lilies, and earlets,
and rings, and adorned herself with all her ornaments.
10:4. And the Lord also gave her more beauty:  because all this dressing
up did not proceed from sensuality, but from virtue:  and therefore the
Lord increased this her beauty, so that she appeared to all men's eyes
incomparably lovely.
10:5. And she gave to her maid a bottle of wine to carry, and a vessel
of oil, and parched corn, and dry figs, and bread and cheese, and went
10:6. And when they came to the gate of the city, they found Ozias, and
the ancients of the city waiting.
10:7. And when they saw her they were astonished, and admired her
beauty exceedingly.
10:8. But they asked her no question, only they let her pass, saying:
The God of our fathers give thee grace, and may he strengthen all the
counsel of thy heart with his power, that Jerusalem may glory in thee,
and thy name may be in the number of the holy and just.
10:9. And they that were there said, all with one voice:  So be it, so
10:10. But Judith praying to the Lord, passed through the gates, she
and her maid.
10:11. And it came to pass, when she went down the hill, about break of
day, that the watchmen of the Assyrians met her, and stopped her,
saying:  Whence comest thou or whither goest thou?
10:12. And she answered:  I am a daughter of the Hebrews, and I am fled
from them, because I knew they would be made a prey to you, because
they despised you, and would not of their own accord yield themselves,
that they might find mercy in your sight.
Because I knew, etc. . .In this and the following chapter, some things
are related to have been said by Judith, which seem hard to reconcile
with truth.  But all that is related in scripture of the servants of God
is not approved by the scripture; and even the saints in their good
enterprises may sometimes slip into venial sins.
10:13. For this reason I thought with myself, saying:  I will go to the
presence of the prince Holofernes, that I may tell him their secrets,
and shew him by what way he may take them, without the loss of one man
of his army.
10:14. And when the men had heard her words, they beheld her face, and
their eyes were amazed, for they wondered exceedingly at her beauty.
10:15. And they said to her:  Thou hast saved thy life by taking this
resolution, to come down to our lord.
10:16. And be assured of this, that when thou shalt stand before him,
he will treat thee well, and thou wilt be most acceptable to his heart.
And they brought her to the tent of Holofernes, telling him of her.
10:17. And when she was come into his presence, forthwith Holofernes
was caught by his eyes.
10:18. And his officers said to him:  Who can despise the people of the
Hebrews, who have such beautiful women, that we should not think it
worth our while for their sakes to fight against them?
10:19. And Judith seeing Holofernes sitting under a canopy, which was
woven of purple and gold, with emeralds and precious stones:
10:20. After she had looked on his face, bowed down to him, prostrating
herself to the ground.  And the servants of Holofernes lifted her up, by
the command of their master.
Judith Chapter 11
Judith's speech to Holofernes.
11:1. Then Holofernes said to her:  Be of good comfort, and fear not in
thy heart:  for I have never hurt a man that was willing to serve
Nabuchodonosor the king.
11:2. And if thy people had not despised me, I would never have lifted
up my spear against them.
11:3. But now tell me, for what cause hast thou left them, and why it
hath pleased thee to come to us?
11:4. And Judith said to him:  Receive the words of thy handmaid, for if
thou wilt follow the words of thy handmaid, the Lord will do with thee
a perfect thing.
11:5. For as Nabuchodonosor the king of the earth liveth, and his power
liveth which is in thee for chastising of all straying souls:  not only
men serve him through thee, but also the beasts of the field obey him.
11:6. For the industry of thy mind is spoken of among all nations, and
it is told through the whole world, that thou only art excellent, and
mighty in all his kingdom, and thy discipline is cried up in all
11:7. It is known also what Achior said, nor are we ignorant of what
thou hast commanded to be done to him.
11:8. For it is certain that our God is so offended with sins, that he
hath sent word by his prophets to the people, that he will deliver them
up for their sins.
11:9. And because the children of Israel know they have offended their
God, thy dread is upon them.
11:10. Moreover also a famine hath come upon them, and for drought of
water they are already to be counted among the dead.
11:11. And they have a design even to kill their cattle, and to drink
the blood of them.
11:12. And the consecrated things of the Lord their God which God
forbade them to touch, in corn, wine, and oil, these have they purposed
to make use of, and they design to consume the things which they ought
not to touch with their hands:  therefore because they do these things,
it is certain they will be given up to destruction.
11:13. And I thy handmaid knowing this, am fled from them, and the Lord
hath sent me to tell thee these very things.
11:14. For I thy handmaid worship God even now that I am with thee, and
thy handmaid will go out, and I will pray to God,
11:15. And he will tell me when he will repay them for their sins, and
I will come and tell thee, so that I may bring thee through the midst
of Jerusalem, and thou shalt have all the people of Israel, as sheep
that have no shepherd, and there shall not so much as one dog bark
against thee:
11:16. Because these things are told me by the providence of God.
11:17. And because God is angry with them, I am sent to tell these very
things to thee.
11:18. And all these words pleased Holofernes, and his servants, and
they admired her wisdom, and they said one to another:
11:19. There is not such another woman upon earth in look, in beauty,
and in sense of words.
11:20. And Holofernes said to her:  God hath done well who sent thee
before the people, that thou mightest give them into our hands:
11:21. And because thy promise is good, if thy God shall do this for
me, he shall also be my God, and thou shalt be great in the house of
Nabuchodonosor, and thy name shall be renowned through all the earth.
Judith Chapter 12
Judith goeth out in the night to pray:  she is invited to a banquet with
12:1. Then he ordered that she should go in where his treasures were
laid up, and bade her tarry there, and he appointed what should be
given her from his own table.
12:2. And Judith answered him and said:  Now I cannot eat of these
things which thou commandest to be given me, lest sin come upon me:  but
I will eat of the things which I have brought.
12:3. And Holofernes said to her:  If these things which thou hast
brought with thee fail thee, what shall we do for thee?
12:4. And Judith said:  As thy soul liveth, my lord, thy handmaid shall
not spend all these things till God do by my hand that which I have
purposed.  And his servants brought her into the tent which he had
12:5. And when she was going in, she desired that she might have
liberty to go out at night and before day to prayer, and to beseech the
12:6. And he commanded his chamberlains, that she might go out and in,
to adore her God as she pleased, for three days.
12:7. And she went out in the nights into the valley of Bethulia, and
washed herself in a fountain of water.
12:8. And as she came up, she prayed to the Lord the God of Israel,
that he would direct her way to the deliverance of his people.
12:9. And going in, she remained pure in the tent, until she took her
own meat in the evening.
12:10. And it came to pass on the fourth day, that Holofernes made a
supper for his servants, and said to Vagao his eunuch:  Go, and persuade
that Hebrew woman, to consent of her own accord to dwell with me.
12:11. For it is looked upon as shameful among the Assyrians, if a
woman mock a man, by doing so as to pass free from him.
12:12. Then Vagao went in to Judith, and said:  Let not my good maid be
afraid to go in to my lord, that she may be honoured before his face,
that she may eat with him and drink wine and be merry.
12:13. And Judith answered him:  Who am I, that I should gainsay my
12:14. All that shall be good and best before his eyes, I will do.  And
whatsoever shall please him, that shall be best to me all the days of
12:15. And she arose and dressed herself out with her garments, and
going in she stood before his face.
12:16. And the heart of Holofernes was smitten, for he was burning with
the desire of her.
12:17. And Holofernes said to her:  Drink now, and sit down and be
merry; for thou hast found favour before me.
12:18. And Judith said:  I will drink my lord, because my life is
magnified this day above all my days.
12:19. And she took and ate and drank before him what her maid had
prepared for her.
12:20. And Holofernes was made merry on her occasion, and drank
exceeding much wine, so much as he had never drunk in his life.
Judith Chapter 13
Judith cutteth off the head of Holofernes, and returneth to Bethulia.
13:1. And when it was grown late, his servants made haste to their
lodgings, and Vagao shut the chamber doors, and went his way.
13:2. And they were all overcharged with wine.
13:3. And Judith was alone in the chamber.
13:4. But Holofernes lay on his bed, fast asleep, being exceedingly
13:5. And Judith spoke to her maid to stand without before the chamber,
and to watch:
13:6. And Judith stood before the bed praying with tears, and the
motion of her lips in silence,
13:7. Saying:  Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel, and in this hour
look on the works of my hands, that as thou hast promised, thou mayst
raise up Jerusalem thy city:  and that I may bring to pass that which I
have purposed, having a belief that it might be done by thee.
13:8. And when she had said this, she went to the pillar that was at
his bed's head, and loosed his sword that hung tied upon it.
13:9. And when she had drawn it out, she took him by the hair of his
head, and said:  Strengthen me, O Lord God, at this hour.
13:10. And she struck twice upon his neck, and cut off his head, and
took off his canopy from the pillars, and rolled away his headless
13:11. And after a while she went out, and delivered the head of
Holofernes to her maid, and bade her put it into her wallet.
13:12. And they two went out according to their custom, as it were to
prayer, and they passed the camp, and having compassed the valley, they
came to the gate of the city.
13:13. And Judith from afar off cried to the watchmen upon the walls:
Open the gates for God is with us, who hath shewn his power in Israel.
13:14. And it came to pass, when the men had heard her voice, that they
called the ancients of the city.
13:15. And all ran to meet her from the least to the greatest:  for they
now had no hopes that she would come.
13:16. And lighting up lights they all gathered round about her:  and
she went up to a higher place, and commanded silence to be made.  And
when all had held their peace,
13:17. Judith said:  Praise ye the Lord our God, who hath not forsaken
them that hope in him.
13:18. And by me his handmaid he hath fulfilled his mercy, which he
promised to the house of Israel:  and he hath killed the enemy of his
people by my hand this night.
13:19. Then she brought forth the head of Holofernes out of the wallet,
and shewed it them, saying:  Behold the head of Holofernes the general
of the army of the Assyrians, and behold his canopy, wherein he lay in
his drunkenness, where the Lord our God slew him by the hand of a
13:20. But as the same Lord liveth, his angel hath been my keeper both
going hence, and abiding there, and returning from thence hither:  and
the Lord hath not suffered me his handmaid to be defiled, but hath
brought me back to you without pollution of sin, rejoicing for his
victory, for my escape, and for your deliverance.
13:21. Give all of you glory to him, because he is good, because his
mercy endureth for ever.
13:22. And they all adored the Lord, and said to her:  The Lord hath
blessed thee by his power, because by thee he hath brought our enemies
13:23. And Ozias the prince of the people of Israel, said to her:
Blessed art thou, O daughter, by the Lord the most high God, above all
women upon the earth.
13:24. Blessed be the Lord who made heaven and earth, who hath directed
thee to the cutting off the head of the prince of our enemies.
13:25. Because he hath so magnified thy name this day, that thy praise
shall not depart out of the mouth of men who shall be mindful of the
power of the Lord for ever, for that thou hast not spared thy life, by
reason of the distress and tribulation of thy people, but hast
prevented our ruin in the presence of our God.
13:26. And all the people said:  So be it, so be it.
13:27. And Achior being called for came, and Judith said to him:  The
God of Israel, to whom thou gavest testimony, that he revengeth himself
of his enemies, he hath cut off the head of all the unbelievers this
night by my hand.
13:28. And that thou mayst find that it is so, behold the head of
Holofernes, who in the contempt of his pride despised the God of
Israel:  and threatened them with death, saying:  When the people of
Israel shall be taken, I will command thy sides to be pierced with a
13:29. Then Achior seeing the head of Holofernes, being seized with a
great fear he fell on his face upon the earth, and his soul swooned
13:30. But after he had recovered his spirits he fell down at her feet,
and reverenced her, and said:
13:31. Blessed art thou by thy God in every tabernacle of Jacob, for in
every nation which shall hear thy name, the God of Israel shall be
magnified on occasion of thee.
Judith Chapter 14
The Israelites assault the Assyrians, who finding their general slain,
are seized with a panic fear.
14:1. And Judith said to all the people:  Hear me, my brethren, hang ye
up this head upon our walls.
14:2. And as soon as the sun shall rise, let every man take his arms,
and rush ye out, not as going down beneath, but as making an assault.
14:3. Then the watchmen must needs run to awake their prince for the
14:4. And when the captains of them shall run to the tent of
Holofernes, and shall find him without his head wallowing in his blood,
fear shall fall upon them.
14:5. And when you shall know that they are fleeing, go after them
securely, for the Lord will destroy them under your feet.
14:6. Then Achior seeing the power that the God of Israel had wrought,
leaving the religion of the Gentiles, he believed God, and circumcised
the flesh of his foreskin, and was joined to the people of Israel, with
all the succession of his kindred until this present day.
14:7. And immediately at break of day, they hung up the head of
Holofernes upon the walls, and every man took his arms, and they went
out with a great noise and shouting.
14:8. And the watchmen seeing this, ran to the tent of Holofernes.
14:9. And they that were in the tent came, and made a noise, before the
door of the chamber to awake him, endeavouring by art to break his
rest, that Holofernes might awake, not by their calling him, but by
their noise.
14:10. For no man durst knock, or open and go into the chamber of the
general of the Assyrians.
14:11. But when his captains and tribunes were come, and all the chiefs
of the army of the king of the Assyrians, they said to the
chamberlains:
14:12. Go in, and awake him, for the mice, coming out of their holes,
have presumed to challenge us to fight.
14:13. Then Vagao going into his chamber, stood before the curtain, and
made a clapping with his hands:  for he thought that he was sleeping
with Judith.
14:14. But when with hearkening, he perceived no motion of one lying,
he came near to the curtain, and lifting it up, and seeing the body of
Holofernes, lying upon the ground, without the head, weltering in his
blood, he cried out with a loud voice, with weeping, and rent his
14:15. And he went into the tent of Judith, and not finding her, he ran
out to the people,
14:16. And said:  One Hebrew woman hath made confusion in the house of
king Nabuchodonosor:  for behold Holofernes lieth upon the ground, and
his head is not upon him.
14:17. Now when the chiefs of the army of the Assyrians had heard this,
they all rent their garments, and an intolerable fear and dread fell
upon them, and their minds were troubled exceedingly.
14:18. And there was a very great cry in the midst of their camp.
Judith Chapter 15
The Assyrians flee:  the Hebrews pursue after them, and are enriched by
their spoils.
15:1. And when all the army heard that Holofernes was beheaded, courage
and counsel fled from them, and being seized with trembling and fear
they thought only to save themselves by flight.
15:2. So that no one spoke to his neighbour, but hanging down the head,
leaving all things behind, they made haste to escape from the Hebrews,
who, as they heard, were coming armed upon them, and fled by the ways
of the fields, and the paths of the hills.
15:3. So the children of Israel seeing them fleeing, followed after
them.  And they went down sounding with trumpets and shouting after
15:4. And because the Assyrians were not united together, they went
without order in their flight; but the children of Israel pursuing in
one body, defeated all that they could find.
15:5. And Ozias sent messengers through all the cities and countries of
15:6. And every country, and every city, sent their chosen young men
armed after them, and they pursued them with the edge of the sword
until they came to the extremities of their confines.
15:7. And the rest that were in Bethulia went into the camp of the
Assyrians, and took away the spoils which the Assyrians in their flight
had left behind them, and they were laden exceedingly,
15:8. But they that returned conquerors to Bethulia, brought with them
all things that were theirs, so that there was no numbering of their
cattle, and beasts, and all their moveables, insomuch that from the
least to the greatest all were made rich by their spoils.
15:9. And Joachim the high priest came from Jerusalem to Bethulia with
all his ancients to see Judith.
15:10. And when she was come out to him, they all blessed her with one
voice, saying:  Thou art the glory of Jerusalem, thou art the joy of
Israel, thou art the honour of our people:
15:11. For thou hast done manfully, and thy heart has been
strengthened, because thou hast loved chastity, and after thy husband
hast not known any other:  therefore also the hand of the Lord hath
strengthened thee, and therefore thou shalt be blessed for ever.
15:12. And all the people said:  So be it, so be it.
15:13. And thirty days were scarce sufficient for the people of Israel
to gather up the spoils of the Assyrians.
15:14. But all those things that were proved to be the peculiar goods
of Holofernes, they gave to Judith in gold, and silver, and garments
and precious stones, and all household stuff, and they all were
delivered to her by the people.
15:15. And all the people rejoiced, with the women, and virgins, and
young men, playing on instruments and harps.
Judith Chapter 16
The canticle of Judith:  her virtuous life and death.
16:1. Then Judith sung this canticle to the Lord, saying:
16:2. Begin ye to the Lord with timbrels, sing ye to the Lord with
cymbals, tune unto him a new psalm, extol and call upon his name.
16:3. The Lord putteth an end to wars, the Lord is his name.
16:4. He hath set his camp in the midst of his people, to deliver us
from the hand of all our enemies.
16:5. The Assyrian came out of the mountains from the north in the
multitude of his strength:  his multitude stopped up the torrents, and
their horses covered the valleys.
16:6. He bragged that he would set my borders on fire, and kill my
young men with the sword, to make my infants a prey, and my virgins
16:7. But the almighty Lord hath struck him, and hath delivered him
into the hands of a woman, and hath slain him.
16:8. For their mighty one did not fall by young men, neither did the
sons of Titan strike him, nor tall giants oppose themselves to him, but
Judith the daughter of Merari weakened him with the beauty of her face.
16:9. For she put off her the garments of widowhood, and put on her the
garments of joy, to give joy to the children of Israel.
16:10. She anointed her face with ointment, and bound up her locks with
a crown, she took a new robe to deceive him.
16:11. Her sandals ravished his eyes, her beauty made his soul her
captive, with a sword she cut off his head.
16:12. The Persians quaked at her constancy, and the Medes at her
16:13. Then the camp of the Assyrians howled, when my lowly ones
appeared, parched with thirst.
16:14. The sons of the damsels have pierced them through, and they have
killed them like children fleeing away:  they perished in battle before
the face of the Lord my God.
16:15. Let us sing a hymn to the Lord, let us sing a new hymn to our
16:16. O Adonai, Lord, great art thou, and glorious in thy power, and
no one can overcome thee.
16:17. Let all thy creatures serve thee:  because thou hast spoken, and
they were made:  thou didst send forth thy spirit, and they were
created, and there is no one that can resist thy voice.
16:18. The mountains shall be moved from the foundations with the
waters:  the rocks shall melt as wax before thy face.
16:19. But they that fear thee, shall be great with thee in all things.
16:20. Woe be to the nation that riseth up against my people:  for the
Lord almighty will take revenge on them, in the day of judgment he will
16:21. For he will give fire, and worms into their flesh, that they may
burn, and may feel for ever.
16:22. And it came to pass after these things, that all the people,
after the victory, came to Jerusalem to adore the Lord:  and as soon as
they were purified, they all offered holocausts, and vows, and their
16:23. And Judith offered for an anathema of oblivion all the arms of
Holofernes, which the people gave her, and the canopy that she had
taken away out of his chamber.
An anathema of oblivion. . .That is, a gift or offering made to God, by
way of an everlasting monument, to prevent the oblivion or forgetting
so great a benefit.
16:24. And the people were joyful in the sight of the sanctuary, and
for three months the joy of this victory was celebrated with Judith.
16:25. And after those days every man returned to his house, and Judith
was made great in Bethulia, and she was most renowned in all the land
16:26. And chastity was joined to her virtue, so that she knew no man
all the days of her life, after the death of Manasses her husband.
16:27. And on festival days she came forth with great glory.
16:28. And she abode in her husband's house a hundred and five years,
and made her handmaid free, and she died, and was buried with her
husband in Bethulia.
16:29. And all the people mourned for seven days.
16:30. And all the time of her life there was none that troubled
Israel, nor many years after her death.
16:31. But the day of the festivity of this victory is received by the
Hebrews in the number of holy days, and is religiously observed by the
Jews from that time until this day.
THE BOOK OF ESTHER
This Book takes its name from queen Esther, whose history is here
recorded.  The general opinion of almost all commentators on the Holy
Scriptures makes Mardochai the writer of it:  which also may be
collected below from chap. 9 ver. 20.
Esther Chapter 1
King Assuerus maketh a great feast.  Queen Vasthi being sent for
refuseth to come:  for which disobedience she is deposed.
1:1. In the days of Assuerus, who reigned from India to Ethiopia over a
hundred and twenty seven provinces:
1:2. When he sat on the throne of his kingdom, the city Susan was the
capital of his kingdom.
1:3. Now in the third year of his reign he made a great feast for all
the princes, and for his servants, for the most mighty of the Persians,
and the nobles of the Medes, and the governors of the provinces in his
1:4. That he might shew the riches of the glory of his kingdom, and the
greatness, and boasting of his power, for a long time, to wit, for a
hundred and fourscore days.
1:5. And when the days of the feast were expired, he invited all the
people that were found in Susan, from the greatest to the least:  and
commanded a feast to be made seven days in the court of the garden, and
of the wood, which was planted by the care and the hand of the king.
1:6. And there were hung up on every side sky coloured, and green, and
violet hangings, fastened with cords of silk, and of purple, which were
put into rings of ivory, and were held up with marble pillars.  The beds
also were of gold and silver, placed in order upon a floor paved with
porphyry and white marble:  which was embellished with painting of
wonderful variety.
1:7. And they that were invited, drank in golden cups, and the meats
were brought in divers vessels one after another.  Wine also in
abundance and of the best was presented, as was worthy of a king's
magnificence.
1:8. Neither was there any one to compel them to drink that were not
willing, but as the king had appointed, who set over every table one of
his nobles, that every man might take what he would.
1:9. Also Vasthi the queen made a feast for the women in the palace,
where king Assuerus was used to dwell.
1:10. Now on the seventh day, when the king was merry, and after very
much drinking was well warmed with wine, he commanded Mauman, and
Bazatha, and Harbona, and Bagatha, and Abgatha, and Zethar, and
Charcas, the seven eunuchs that served in his presence,
1:11. To bring in queen Vasthi before the king, with the crown set upon
her head, to shew her beauty to all the people and the princes:  for she
was exceeding beautiful.
1:12. But she refused, and would not come at the king's commandment,
which he had signified to her by the eunuchs.  Whereupon the king, being
angry, and inflamed with a very great fury,
1:13. Asked the wise men, who according to the custom of the kings,
were always near his person, and all he did was by their counsel, who
knew the laws, and judgments of their forefathers:
1:14. (Now the chief and nearest him were, Charsena, and Sethar, and
Admatha, and Tharsis, and Mares, and Marsana, and Mamuchan, seven
princes of the Persians and of the Medes, who saw the face of the king,
and were used to sit first after him:)
1:15. What sentence ought to pass upon Vasthi the queen, who had
refused to obey the commandment of king Assuerus, which he had sent to
her by the eunuchs?
1:16. And Mamuchan answered, in the hearing of the king and the
princes:  Queen Vasthi hath not only injured the king, but also all the
people and princes that are in all the provinces of king Assuerus.
1:17. For this deed of the queen will go abroad to all women, so that
they will despise their husbands, and will say:  King Assuerus commanded
that queen Vasthi should come in to him, and she would not.
1:18. And by this example all the wives of the princes of the Persians
and the Medes will slight the commandments of their husbands:  wherefore
the king's indignation is just.
1:19. If it please thee, let an edict go out from thy presence, and let
it be written according to the law of the Persians and of the Medes,
which must not be altered, that Vasthi come in no more to the king, but
another, that is better than her, be made queen in her place.
1:20. And let this be published through all the provinces of thy
empire, (which is very wide,) and let all wives, as well of the greater
as of the lesser, give honour to their husbands.
1:21. His counsel pleased the king, and the princes:  and the king did
according to the counsel of Mamuchan.
1:22. And he sent letters to all the provinces of his kingdom, as every
nation could hear and read, in divers languages and characters, that
the husbands should be rulers and masters in their houses:  and that
this should be published to every people.
Esther Chapter 2
Esther is advanced to be queen.  Mardochai detecteth a plot against the
2:1. After this, when the wrath of king Assuerus was appeased, he
remembered Vasthi, and what she had done and what she had suffered:
2:2. And the king's servants and his officers said:  Let young women be
sought for the king, virgins and beautiful,
2:3. And let some persons be sent through all the provinces to look for
beautiful maidens and virgins:  and let them bring them to the city of
Susan, and put them into the house of the women under the hand of Egeus
the eunuch, who is the overseer and keeper of the king's women:  and let
them receive women's ornaments, and other things necessary for their
2:4. And whosoever among them all shall please the king's eyes, let her
be queen instead of Vasthi.  The word pleased the king:  and he commanded
it should be done as they had suggested.
2:5. There was a man in the city of Susan, a Jew, named Mardochai, the
son of Jair, the son of Semei, the son of Cis, of the race of Jemini,
2:6. Who had been carried away from Jerusalem at the time that
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon carried away Jechonias king of Juda,
2:7. And he had brought up his brother's daughter Edissa, who by
another name was called Esther:  now she had lost both her parents:  and
was exceeding fair and beautiful.  And her father and mother being dead,
Mardochai adopted her for his daughter.
2:8. And when the king's ordinance was noised abroad, and according to
his commandment many beautiful virgins were brought to Susan, and were
delivered to Egeus the eunuch:  Esther also among the rest of the
maidens was delivered to him to be kept in the number of the women.
2:9. And she pleased him, and found favour in his sight.  And he
commanded the eunuch to hasten the women's ornaments, and to deliver to
her her part, and seven of the most beautiful maidens of the king's
house, and to adorn and deck out both her and her waiting maids.
2:10. And she would not tell him her people nor her country.  For
Mardochai had charged her to say nothing at all of that:
2:11. And he walked every day before the court of the house, in which
the chosen virgins were kept, having a care for Esther's welfare, and
desiring to know what would befall her.
2:12. Now when every virgin's turn came to go in to the king, after all
had been done for setting them off to advantage, it was the twelfth
month:  so that for six months they were anointed with oil of myrrh, and
for other six months they used certain perfumes and sweet spices.
2:13. And when they were going in to the king, whatsoever they asked to
adorn themselves they received:  and being decked out, as it pleased
them, they passed from the chamber of the women to the king's chamber.
2:14. And she that went in at evening, came out in the morning, and
from thence she was conducted to the second house, that was under the
hand of Susagaz the eunuch, who had the charge over the king's
concubines:  neither could she return any more to the king, unless the
king desired it, and had ordered her by name to come.
2:15. And as the time came orderly about, the day was at hand, when
Esther, the daughter of Abihail the brother of Mardochai, whom he had
adopted for his daughter, was to go in to the king.  But she sought not
women's ornaments, but whatsoever Egeus the eunuch the keeper of the
virgins had a mind, he gave her to adorn her.  For she was exceeding
fair, and her incredible beauty made her appear agreeable and amiable
in the eyes of all.
2:16. So she was brought to the chamber of king Assuerus the tenth
month, which is called Tebeth, in the seventh year of his reign.
2:17. And the king loved her more than all the women, and she had
favour and kindness before him above all the women, and he set the
royal crown on her head, and made her queen instead of Vasthi.
2:18. And he commanded a magnificent feast to be prepared for all the
princes, and for his servants, for the marriage and wedding of Esther,
And he gave rest to all the provinces, and bestowed gifts according to
princely magnificence.
2:19. And when the virgins were sought the second time, and gathered
together, Mardochai stayed at the king's gate,
2:20. Neither had Esther as yet declared her country and people,
according to his commandment.  For whatsoever he commanded, Esther
observed:  and she did all things in the same manner as she was wont at
that time when he brought her up a little one.
2:21. At that time, therefore, when Mardochai abode at the king's gate,
Bagathan and Thares, two of the king's eunuchs, who were porters, and
presided in the first entry of the palace, were angry:  and they
designed to rise up against the king, and to kill him.
2:22. And Mardochai had notice of it, and immediately he told it to
queen Esther:  and she to the king in Mardochai's name, who had reported
the thing unto her.
2:23. It was inquired into, and found out:  and they were both hanged on
a gibbet.  And it was put in the histories, and recorded in the
chronicles before the king.
Esther Chapter 3
Aman, advanced by the king, is offended at Mardochai, and therefore
procureth the king's decree to destroy the whole nation of the Jews.
3:1. After these things, king Assuerus advanced Aman, the son of
Amadathi, who was of the race of Agag:  and he set his throne above all
the princes that were with him.
3:2. And all the king's servants, that were at the doors of the palace,
bent their knees, and worshipped Aman:  for so the emperor had commanded
them, only Mardochai did not bend his knee, nor worship him.
3:3. And the king's servants that were chief at the doors of the
palace, said to him:  Why dost thou alone not observe the king's
commandment?
3:4. And when they were saying this often, and he would not hearken to
them, they told Aman, desirous to know whether he would continue in his
resolution:  for he had told them that he was a Jew.
3:5. Now when Aman had heard this, and had proved by experience that
Mardochai did not bend his knee to him, nor worship him, he was
exceeding angry.
3:6. And he counted it nothing to lay his hands upon Mardochai alone:
for he had heard that he was of the nation of the Jews, and he chose
rather to destroy all the nation of the Jews that were in the kingdom
of Assuerus.
3:7. In the first month (which is called Nisan) in the twelfth year of
the reign of Assuerus, the lot was cast into an urn, which in Hebrew is
called Phur, before Aman, on what day and what month the nation of the
Jews should be destroyed:  and there came out the twelfth month, which
is called Adar.
3:8. And Aman said to king Assuerus:  There is a people scattered
through all the provinces of thy kingdom, and separated one from
another, that use new laws and ceremonies, and moreover despise the
king's ordinances:  and thou knowest very well that it is not expedient
for thy kingdom that they should grow insolent by impunity.
3:9. If it please thee, decree that they may be destroyed, and I will
pay ten thousand talents to thy treasurers.
3:10. And the king took the ring that he used, from his own hand, and
gave it to Aman, the son of Amadathi of the race of Agag, the enemy of
3:11. And he said to him:  As to the money which thou promisest, keep it
for thyself:  and as to the people, do with them as seemeth good to
3:12. And the king's scribes were called in the first month Nisan, on
the thirteenth day of the same mouth:  and they wrote, as Aman had
commanded, to all the king's lieutenants, and to the judges of the
provinces, and of divers nations, as every nation could read, and hear
according to their different languages, in the name of king Assuerus:
and the letters, sealed with his ring,
3:13. Were sent by the king's messengers to all provinces, to kill and
destroy all the Jews, both young and old, little children, and women,
in one day, that is, on the thirteenth of the twelfth month, which is
called Adar, and to make a spoil of their goods.
3:14. And the contents of the letters were to this effect, that all
provinces might know and be ready against that day.
3:15. The couriers that were sent made haste to fulfil the king's
commandment.  And immediately the edict was hung up in Susan, the king
and Aman feasting together, and all the Jews that were in the city
Esther Chapter 4
Mardochai desireth Esther to petition the king for the Jews.  They join
in fasting and prayer.
4:1. Now when Mardochai had heard these things, he rent his garments,
and put on sackcloth, strewing ashes on his head and he cried with a
loud voice in the street in the midst of the city, shewing the anguish
of his mind.
4:2. And he came lamenting in this manner even to the gate of the
palace:  for no one clothed with sackcloth might enter the king's court.
4:3. And in all provinces, towns, and places, to which the king's cruel
edict was come, there was great mourning among the Jews, with fasting,
wailing, and weeping, many using sackcloth and ashes for their bed.
4:4. Then Esther's maids and her eunuchs went in, and told her.  And
when she heard it she was in a consternation and she sent a garment, to
clothe him, and to take away the sackcloth:  but he would not receive
4:5. And she called for Athach the eunuch, whom the king had appointed
to attend upon her, and she commanded him to go to Mardochai, and learn
of him why he did this.
4:6. And Athach going out went to Mardochai, who was standing in the
street of the city, before the palace gate:
4:7. And Mardochai told him all that had happened, how Aman had
promised to pay money into the king's treasures, to have the Jews
4:8. He gave him also a copy of the edict which was hanging up in
Susan, that he should shew it to the queen, and admonish her to go in
to the king, and to entreat him for her people.
4:9. And Athach went back and told Esther all that Mardochai had said.
4:10. She answered him, and bade him say to Mardochai:
4:11. All the king's servants, and all the provinces that are under his
dominion, know, that whosoever, whether man or woman, cometh into the
king's inner court, who is not called for, is immediately to be put to
death without any delay:  except the king shall hold out the golden
sceptre to him, in token of clemency, that so he may live.  How then can
I go in to the king, who for these thirty days now have not been called
4:12. And when Mardochai had heard this,
4:13. He sent word to Esther again, saying:  Think not that thou mayst
save thy life only, because thou art in the king's house, more than all
4:14. For if thou wilt now hold thy peace, the Jews shall be delivered
by some other occasion:  and thou, and thy father's house shall perish.
And who knoweth whether thou art not therefore come to the kingdom,
that thou mightest be ready in such a time as this?
4:15. And again Esther sent to Mardochai in these words:
4:16. Go, and gather together all the Jews whom thou shalt find in
Susan, and pray ye for me.  Neither eat nor drink for three days and
three nights:  and I with my handmaids will fast in like manner, and
then I will go in to the king, against the law, not being called, and
expose myself to death and to danger.
4:17. So Mardochai went, and did all that Esther had commanded him.
Esther Chapter 5
Esther is graciously received:  she inviteth the king and Aman to
dinner, Aman prepareth a gibbet for Mardochai.
5:1. And on the third day Esther put on her royal apparel, and stood in
the inner court of the king's house, over against the king's hall:  now
he sat upon his throne in the hall of the palace, over against the door
of the house.
5:2. And when he saw Esther the queen standing, she pleased his eyes,
and he held out toward her the golden sceptre, which he held in his
hand and she drew near, and kissed the top of his sceptre.
5:3. And the king said to her:  What wilt thou, queen Esther?  what is
thy request?  if thou shouldst even ask one half of the kingdom, it
shall be given to thee.
5:4. But she answered:  If it please the king, I beseech thee to come to
me this day, and Aman with thee to the banquet which I have prepared.
5:5. And the king said forthwith:  Call ye Aman quickly, that he may
obey Esther's will.  So the king and Aman came to the banquet which the
queen had prepared for them.
5:6. And the king said to her, after he had drunk wine plentifully:
What dost thou desire should be given thee?  and for what thing askest
thou?  although thou shouldst ask the half of my kingdom, thou shalt
5:7. And Esther answered:  My petition and request is this:
5:8. If I have found favour in the king's sight, and if it please the
king to give me what I ask, and to fulfil my petition:  let the king and
Aman come to the banquet which I have prepared them, and to morrow I
will open my mind to the king.
5:9. So Aman went out that day joyful and merry.  And when he saw
Mardochai sitting before the gate of the palace, and that he not only
did not rise up to honour him, but did not so much as move from the
place where he sat, he was exceedingly angry:
5:10. But dissembling his anger, and returning into his house, he
called together to him his friends, and Zares his wife:
5:11. And he declared to them the greatness of his riches, and the
multitude of his children, and with how great glory the king had
advanced him above all his princes and servants.
5:12. And after this he said:  Queen Esther also hath invited no other
to the banquet with the king, but me:  and with her I am also to dine to
morrow with the king:
5:13. And whereas I have all these things, I think I have nothing, so
long as I see Mardochai the Jew sitting before the king's gate.
5:14. Then Zares his wife, and the rest of his friends answered him:
Order a great beam to be prepared, fifty cubits high, and in the
morning speak to the king, that Mardochai may be hanged upon it, and so
thou shalt go full of joy with the king to the banquet.  The counsel
pleased him, and he commanded a high gibbet to be prepared.
Esther Chapter 6
The king hearing of the good service done him by Mardochai, commandeth
Aman to honour him next to the king, which he performeth.
6:1. That night the king passed without sleep, and he commanded the
histories and chronicles of former times to be brought him.  And when
they were reading them before him,
6:2. They came to that place where it was written, how Mardochai had
discovered the treason of Bagathan and Thares the eunuchs, who sought
to kill king Assuerus.
6:3. And when the king heard this, he said:  What honour and reward hath
Mardochai received for this fidelity?  His servants and ministers said
to him:  He hath received no reward at all.
No reward at all. . .He received some presents from the king, chap.
12.5; but these were so inconsiderable in the opinion of the courtiers,
that they esteemed them as nothing at all.
6:4. And the king said immediately:  Who is in the court?  for Aman was
coming in to the inner court of the king's house, to speak to the king,
that he might order Mardochai to be hanged upon the gibbet, which was
prepared for him.
6:5. The servants answered:  Aman standeth in the court, and the king
said:  Let him come in.
6:6. And when he was come in, he said to him:  What ought to be done to
the man whom the king is desirous to honour?  But Aman thinking in his
heart, and supposing that the king would honour no other but himself,
6:7. Answered:  The man whom the king desireth to honour,
6:8. Ought to be clothed with the king's apparel, and to be set upon
the horse that the king rideth upon, and to have the royal crown upon
6:9. And let the first of the king's princes and nobles hold his horse,
and going through the street of the city, proclaim before him and say:
Thus shall he be honoured, whom the king hath a mind to honour.
6:10. And the king said to him:  Make haste and take the robe and the
horse, and do as thou hast spoken to Mardochai the Jew, who sitteth
before the gates of the palace.  Beware thou pass over any of those
things which thou hast spoken.
6:11. So Aman took the robe and the horse, and arraying Mardochai in
the street of the city, and setting him on the horse, went before him,
and proclaimed:  This honour is he worthy of, whom the king hath a mind
6:12. But Mardochai returned to the palace gate:  and Aman made haste to
go to his house, mourning and having his head covered:
6:13. And he told Zares his wife, and his friends, all that had
befallen him.  And the wise men whom he had in counsel, and his wife
answered him:  If Mardochai be of the seed of the Jews, before whom thou
hast begun to fall, thou canst not resist him, but thou shalt fall in
6:14. As they were yet speaking, the king's eunuchs came, and compelled
him to go quickly to the banquet which the queen had prepared.
Esther Chapter 7
Esther's petition for herself and her people:  Aman is hanged upon the
gibbet he had prepared for Mardochai.
7:1. So the king and Aman went in, to drink with the queen.
7:2. And the king said to her again the second day, after he was warm
with wine:  What is thy petition, Esther, that it may be granted thee?
and what wilt thou have done:  although thou ask the half of my kingdom,
thou shalt have it.
7:3. Then she answered:  If I have found favour in thy sight, O king,
and if it please thee, give me my life for which I ask, and my people
for which I request.
7:4. For we are given up, I and my people, to be destroyed, to be
slain, and to perish.  And would God we were sold for bondmen and
bondwomen:  the evil might be borne with, and I would have mourned in
silence:  but now we have an enemy, whose cruelty redoundeth upon the
7:5. And king Assuerus answered and said:  Who is this, and of what
power, that he should do these things?
7:6. And Esther said:  It is this Aman that is our adversary and most
wicked enemy.  Aman hearing this was forthwith astonished, not being
able to bear the countenance of the king and of the queen.
7:7. But the king being angry rose up, and went from the place of the
banquet into the garden set with trees.  Aman also rose up to entreat
Esther the queen for his life, for he understood that evil was prepared
for him by the king.
7:8. And when the king came back out of the garden set with trees, and
entered into the place of the banquet, he found Aman was fallen upon
the bed on which Esther lay, and he said:  He will force the queen also
in my presence, in my own house.  The word was not yet gone out of the
king's mouth, and immediately they covered his face.
7:9. And Harbona, one of the eunuchs that stood waiting on the king,
said:  Behold the gibbet which he hath prepared for Mardochai, who spoke
for the king, standeth in Aman's house, being fifty cubits high.  And
the king said to him:  Hang him upon it.
7:10. So Aman was hanged on the gibbet, which he had prepared for
Mardochai:  and the king's wrath ceased.
Esther Chapter 8
Mardochai is advanced:  Aman's letters are reversed.
8:1. On that day king Assuerus gave the house of Aman, the Jews' enemy,
to queen Esther, and Mardochai came in before the king.  For Esther had
confessed to him that he was her uncle.
8:2. And the king took the ring which he had commanded to be taken
again from Aman, and gave it to Mardochai.  And Esther set Mardochai
over her house.
8:3. And not content with these things, she fell down at the king's
feet and wept, and speaking to him besought him, that he would give
orders that the malice of Aman the Agagite, and his most wicked devices
which he had invented against the Jews, should be of no effect.
8:4. But he, as the manner was, held out the golden sceptre with his
hand, which was the sign of clemency:  and she arose up and stood before
8:5. And said:  If it please the king, and if I have found favour in his
sight, and my request be not disagreeable to him, I beseech thee, that
the former letters of Aman the traitor and enemy of the Jews, by which
he commanded that they should be destroyed in all the king's provinces,
may be reversed by new letters.
8:6. For how can I endure the murdering and slaughter of my people?
8:7. And king Assuerus answered Esther the queen, and Mardochai the
Jew:  I have given Aman's house to Esther, and I have commanded him to
be hanged on a gibbet, because he durst lay hands on the Jews.
8:8. Write ye therefore to the Jews, as it pleaseth you in the king's
name, and seal the letters with my ring.  For this was the custom, that
no man durst gainsay the letters which were sent in the king's name,
and were sealed with his ring.
8:9. Then the king's scribes and secretaries were called for (now it
was the time of the third month which is called Siban) the three and
twentieth day of the month, and letters were written, as Mardochai had
a mind, to the Jews, and to the governors, and to the deputies, and to
the judges, who were rulers over the hundred and twenty-seven
provinces, from India even to Ethiopia:  to province and province, to
people and people, according to their languages and characters, and to
the Jews, according as they could read and hear.
8:10. And these letters which were sent in the king's name, were sealed
with his ring, and sent by posts:  who were to run through all the
provinces, to prevent the former letters with new messages.
8:11. And the king gave orders to them, to speak to the Jews in every
city, and to command them to gather themselves together, and to stand
for their lives, and to kill and destroy all their enemies with their
wives and children and all their houses, and to take their spoil.
8:12. And one day of revenge was appointed through all the provinces,
to wit, the thirteenth of the twelfth month Adar.
8:13. And this was the content of the letter, that it should be
notified in all lands and peoples that were subject to the empire of
king Assuerus, that the Jews were ready to be revenged of their
8:14. So the swift posts went out carrying the messages, and the king's
edict was hung up in Susan.
8:15. And Mardochai going forth out of the palace, and from the king's
presence, shone in royal apparel, to wit, of violet and sky colour,
wearing a golden crown on his head, and clothed with a cloak of silk
and purple.  And all the city rejoiced, and was glad.
8:16. But to the Jews, a new light seemed to rise, joy, honour, and
8:17. And in all peoples, cities, and provinces, whithersoever the
king's commandments came, there was wonderful rejoicing, feasts and
banquets, and keeping holy day:  Insomuch that many of other nations and
religion, joined themselves to their worship and ceremonies.  For a
great dread of the name of the Jews had fallen upon all.
Esther Chapter 9
The Jews kill their enemies that would have killed them.  The days of
Phurim are appointed to be kept holy.
9:1. So on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, which as we have
said above is called Adar, when all the Jews were designed to be
massacred, and their enemies were greedy after their blood, the case
being altered, the Jews began to have the upper hand, and to revenge
themselves of their adversaries.
To revenge, etc. . .The Jews on this occasion, by authority from the
king, were made executioners of the public justice, for punishing by
death a crime worthy of death, viz., a malicious conspiracy for
extirpating their whole nation.
9:2. And they gathered themselves together in every city, and town, and
place, to lay their hands on their enemies, and their persecutors.  And
no one durst withstand them, for the fear of their power had gone
through every people.
9:3. And the judges of the provinces, and the governors, and
lieutenants, and every one in dignity, that presided over every place
and work, extolled the Jews for fear of Mardochai:
9:4. For they knew him to be prince of the palace, and to have great
power:  and the fame of his name increased daily, and was spread abroad
through all men's mouths.
9:5. So the Jews made a great slaughter of their enemies, and killed
them, repaying according to what they had prepared to do to them:
9:6. Insomuch that even in Susan they killed five hundred men, besides
the ten sons of Aman the Agagite, the enemy of the Jews:  whose names
9:7. Pharsandatha, and Delphon, and Esphatha
9:8. And Phoratha, and Adalia, and Aridatha,
9:9. And Phermesta, and Arisai, and Aridai, and Jezatha.
9:10. And when they had slain them, they would not touch the spoils of
their goods.
9:11. And presently the number of them that were killed in Susan was
brought to the king.
9:12. And he said to the queen:  The Jews have killed five hundred men
in the city of Susan, besides the ten sons of Aman:  how many dost thou
think they have slain in all the provinces?  What askest thou more, and
what wilt thou have me to command to be done?
9:13. And she answered:  If it please the king, let it be granted to the
Jews, to do to morrow in Susan as they have done to day, and that the
ten sons of Aman may be hanged upon gibbets.
9:14. And the king commanded that it should be so done.  And forthwith
the edict was hung up in Susan, and the ten sons of Aman were hanged.
9:15. And on the fourteenth day of the month Adar the Jews gathered
themselves together, and they killed in Susan three hundred men:  but
they took not their substance.
9:16. Moreover through all the provinces which were subject to the
king's dominion the Jews stood for their lives, and slew their enemies
and persecutors:  insomuch that the number of them that were killed
amounted to seventy-five thousand, and no man took any of their goods.
9:17. Now the thirteenth day of the month Adar was the first day with
them all of the slaughter, and on the fourteenth day they left off.
Which they ordained to be kept holy day, so that all times hereafter
they should celebrate it with feasting, joy, and banquets.
9:18. But they that were killing in the city of Susan, were employed in
the slaughter on the thirteenth and fourteenth day of the same month:
and on the fifteenth day they rested.  And therefore they appointed that
day to be a holy day of feasting and gladness.
9:19. But those Jews that dwelt in towns not walled and in villages,
appointed the fourteenth day of the month Adar for banquets and
gladness, so as to rejoice on that day, and send one another portions
of their banquets and meats.
9:20. And Mardochai wrote all these things, and sent them comprised in
letters to the Jews that abode in all the king's provinces, both those
that lay near and those afar off,
9:21. That they should receive the fourteenth and fifteenth day of the
month Adar for holy days, and always at the return of the year should
celebrate them with solemn honour:
9:22. Because on those days the Jews revenged themselves of their
enemies, and their mourning and sorrow were turned into mirth and joy,
and that these should be days of feasting and gladness, in which they
should send one to another portions of meats, and should give gifts to
9:23. And the Jews undertook to observe with solemnity all they had
begun to do at that time, which Mardochai by letters had commanded to
9:24. For Aman, the son of Amadathi of the race of Agag, the enemy and
adversary of the Jews, had devised evil against them, to kill them and
destroy them; and had cast Phur, that is, the lot.
9:25. And afterwards Esther went in to the king, beseeching him that
his endeavours might be made void by the king's letters:  and the evil
that he had intended against the Jews, might return upon his own head.
And so both he and his sons were hanged upon gibbets.
9:26. And since that time these days are called Phurim, that is, of
lots:  because Phur, that is, the lot, was cast into the urn.  And all
things that were done, are contained in the volume of this epistle,
that is, of this book:
9:27. And the things that they suffered, and that were afterwards
changed, the Jews took upon themselves and their seed, and upon all
that had a mind to be joined to their religion, so that it should be
lawful for none to pass these days without solemnity:  which the writing
testifieth, and certain times require, as the years continually succeed
one another.
9:28. These are the days which shall never be forgot:  and which all
provinces in the whole world shall celebrate throughout all
generations:  neither is there any city wherein the days of Phurim, that
is, of lots, must not be observed by the Jews, and by their posterity,
which is bound to these ceremonies.
9:29. And Esther the queen, the daughter of Abihail, and Mardochai the
Jew, wrote also a second epistle, that with all diligence this day
should be established a festival for the time to come.
9:30. And they sent to all the Jews that were in the hundred and
twenty-seven provinces of king Assuerus, that they should have peace,
and receive truth,
9:31. And observe the days of lots, and celebrate them with joy in
their proper time:  as Mardochai and Esther had appointed, and they
undertook them to be observed by themselves and by their seed, fasts,
and cries, and the days of lots,
9:32. And all things which are contained in the history of this book,
which is called Esther.
Esther Chapter 10
Assuerus's greatness.  Mardochai's dignity.
10:1. And king Assuerus made all the land, and all the islands of the
sea tributary.
10:2. And his strength and his empire, and the dignity and greatness
wherewith he exalted Mardochai, are written in the books of the Medes,
and of the Persians:
10:3. And how Mardochai of the race of the Jews, was next after king
Assuerus:  and great among the Jews, and acceptable to the people of his
brethren, seeking the good of his people, and speaking those things
which were for the welfare of his seed.
10:4. Then Mardochai said:  God hath done these things.
Then Mardochai, etc. . .Here St. Jerome advertiseth the reader, that
what follows is not in the Hebrew, but is found in the septuagint Greek
edition, which the seventy-two interpreters translated out of the
Hebrew, or added by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.
10:5. I remember a dream that I saw, which signified these same things:
and nothing thereof hath failed.
A dream. . .This dream was prophetical and extraordinary:  otherwise the
general rule is not to observe dreams.
10:6. The little fountain which grew into a river, and was turned into
a light, and into the sun, and abounded into many waters, is Esther,
whom the king married, and made queen.
10:7. But the two dragons are I and Aman.
10:8. The nations that were assembled are they that endeavoured to
destroy the name of the Jews.
10:9. And my nation is Israel, who cried to the Lord, and the Lord
saved his people:  and he delivered us from all evils, and hath wrought
great signs and wonders among the nations:
10:10. And he commanded that there should be two lots, one of the
people of God, and the other of all the nations.
10:11. And both lots came to the day appointed already from that time
before God to all nations:
10:12. And the Lord remembered his people, and had mercy on his
inheritance.
10:13. And these days shall be observed in the month of Adar on the
fourteenth, and fifteenth day of the same month, with all diligence,
and joy of the people gathered into one assembly, throughout all the
generations hereafter of the people of Israel.
Esther Chapter 11
The dream of Mardochai, which in the ancient Greek and Latin Bibles was
into the beginning of the book, but was detached by St. Jerome, and put
in this place.
11:1. In the fourth year of the reign of Ptolemy and Cleopatra,
Dositheus, who said he was a priest, and of the Levitical race, and
Ptolemy his son brought this epistle of Phurim, which they said
Lysimachus the son of Ptolemy had interpreted in Jerusalem.
11:2. In the second year of the reign of Artaxerxes the great, in the
first day of the month Nisan, Mardochai the son of Jair, the son of
Semei, the son of Cis, of the tribe of Benjamin:
11:3. A Jew who dwelt in the city of Susan, a great man and among the
first of the king's court, had a dream.
11:4. Now he was of the number of the captives, whom Nabuchodonosor
king of Babylon had carried away from Jerusalem with Jechonias king of
11:5. And this was his dream:  Behold there were voices, and tumults,
and thunders, and earthquakes, and a disturbance upon the earth.
11:6. And behold two great dragons came forth ready to fight one
against another.
11:7. And at their cry all nations were stirred up to fight against the
nation of the just.
11:8. And that was a day of darkness and danger, of tribulation and
distress, and great fear upon the earth.
11:9. And the nation of the just was troubled fearing their own evils,
and was prepared for death.
11:10. And they cried to God:  and as they were crying, a little
fountain grew into a very great river, and abounded into many waters.
11:11. The light and the sun rose up, and the humble were exalted, and
they devoured the glorious.
11:12. And when Mardochai had seen this, and arose out of his bed, he
was thinking what God would do:  and he kept it fixed in his mind,
desirous to know what the dream should signify.
Esther Chapter 12
Mardochai detects the conspiracy of the two eunuchs.
12:1. And he abode at that time in the king's court with Bagatha and
Thara the king's eunuchs, who were porters of the palace.
12:2. And when he understood their designs, and had diligently searched
into their projects, he learned that they went about to lay violent
hands on king Artaxerxes, and he told the king thereof.
12:3. Then the king had them both examined, and after they had
confessed, commanded them to be put to death.
12:4. But the king made a record of what was done:  and Mardochai also
committed the memory of the thing to writing.
12:5. And the king commanded him, to abide in the court of the palace,
and gave him presents for the information.
12:6. But Aman the son of Amadathi the Bugite was in great honour with
the king, and sought to hurt Mardochai and his people, because of the
two eunuchs of the king who were put to death.
Esther Chapter 13
A copy of a letter sent by Aman to destroy the Jews.  Mardochai's prayer
for the people.
13:1. And this was the copy of the letter:  Artaxerxes the great king
who reigneth from India to Ethiopia, to the princes and governors of
the hundred and twenty-seven provinces, that are subject to his empire,
13:2. Whereas I reigned over many nations, and had brought all the
world under my dominion, I was not willing to abuse the greatness of my
power, but to govern my subjects with clemency and that they might live
quietly without any terror, and might enjoy peace, which is desired by
13:3. But when I asked my counsellors how this might be accomplished,
one that excelled the rest in wisdom and fidelity, and was second after
the king, Aman by name,
13:4. Told me that there was a people scattered through the whole
world, which used new laws, and acted against the customs of all
nations, despised the commandments of kings, and violated by their
opposition the concord of all nations.
13:5. Wherefore having learned this, and seeing one nation in
opposition to all mankind using perverse laws, and going against our
commandments, and disturbing the peace and concord of the provinces
subject to us,
13:6. We have commanded that all whom Aman shall mark out, who is chief
over all the provinces, and second after the king, and whom we honour
as a father, shall be utterly destroyed by their enemies, with their
wives and children, and that none shall have pity on them, on the
fourteenth day of the twelfth month Adar of this present year:
13:7. That these wicked men going down to hell in one day, may restore
to our empire the peace which they had disturbed.
13:8. But Mardochai besought the Lord, remembering all his works,
13:9. And said:  O Lord, Lord, almighty king, for all things are in thy
power, and there is none that can resist thy will, if thou determine to
save Israel.
13:10. Thou hast made heaven and earth and all things that are under
the cope of heaven.
13:11. Thou art Lord of all, and there is none that can resist thy
13:12. Thou knowest all things, and thou knowest that it was not out of
pride and or any desire of glory, that I refused to worship the proud
13:13. (For I would willingly and readily for the salvation of Israel
have kissed even the steps of his feet,)
13:14. But I feared lest I should transfer the honour of my God to a
man, and lest I should adore any one except my God.
13:15. And now, O Lord, O king, O God of Abraham, have mercy on thy
people, because our enemies resolve to destroy us, and extinguish thy
inheritance.
13:16. Despise not thy portion, which thou hast redeemed for thyself
out of Egypt.
13:17. Hear my supplication, and be merciful to thy lot and
inheritance, and turn our mourning into joy, that we may live and
praise thy name, O Lord, and shut not the mouths of them that sing to
13:18. And all Israel with like mind and supplication cried to the
Lord, because they saw certain death hanging over their heads.
Esther Chapter 14
The prayer of Esther for herself and her people.
14:1. Queen Esther also, fearing the danger that was at hand, had
recourse to the Lord.
14:2. And when she had laid away her royal apparel, she put on garments
suitable for weeping and mourning:  instead of divers precious
ointments, she covered her head with ashes and dung, and she humbled
her body with fasts:  and all the places in which before she was
accustomed to rejoice, she filled with her torn hair.
14:3. And she prayed to the Lord the God of Israel, saying:  O my Lord,
who alone art our king, help me a desolate woman, and who have no other
helper but thee.
14:4. My danger is in my hands.
14:5. I have heard of my father that thou, O Lord, didst take Israel
from among all nations, and our fathers from all their predecessors, to
possess them as an everlasting inheritance, and thou hast done to them
as thou hast promised.
14:6. We have sinned in thy sight, and therefore thou hast delivered us
into the hands of our enemies:
14:7. For we have worshipped their gods.  Thou art just, O Lord.
14:8. And now they are not content to oppress us with most hard
bondage, but attributing the strength of their hands to the power of
their idols.
14:9. They design to change thy promises, and destroy thy inheritance,
and shut the mouths of them that praise thee, and extinguish the glory
of thy temple and altar,
14:10. That they may open the mouths of Gentiles, and praise the
strength of idols, and magnify for ever a carnal king.
14:11. Give not, O Lord, thy sceptre to them that are not, lest they
laugh at our ruin:  but turn their counsel upon themselves, and destroy
him that hath begun to rage against us.
14:12. Remember, O Lord, and shew thyself to us in the time of our
tribulation, and give me boldness, O Lord, king of gods, and of all
14:13. Give me a well ordered speech in my mouth in the presence of the
lion, and turn his heart to the hatred of our enemy, that both he
himself may perish, and the rest that consent to him.
14:14. But deliver us by thy hand, and help me, who have no other
helper, but thee, O Lord, who hast the knowledge of all things.
14:15. And thou knowest that I hate the glory of the wicked, and abhor
the bed of the uncircumcised, and of every stranger.
14:16. Thou knowest my necessity, that I abominate the sign of my pride
and glory, which is upon my head in the days of my public appearance,
and detest it as a menstruous rag, and wear it not in the days of my
14:17. And that I have not eaten at Aman's table, nor hath the king's
banquet pleased me, and that I have not drunk the wine of the drink
14:18. And that thy handmaid hath never rejoiced, since I was brought
hither unto this day but in thee, O Lord, the God of Abraham.
14:19. O God, who art mighty above all, hear the voice of them, that
have no other hope, and deliver us from the hand of the wicked, and
deliver me from my fear.
Esther Chapter 15
Esther comes into the king's presence:  she is terrified, but God turns
15:1. And he commanded her (no doubt but he was Mardochai) to go to the
king, and petition for her people, and for her country.
15:2. Remember, (said he,) the days of thy low estate, how thou wast
brought up by my hand, because Aman the second after the king hath
spoken against us unto death.
15:3. And do thou call upon the Lord, and speak to the king for us, and
deliver us from death.
15:4. And on the third day she laid away the garments she wore, and put
on her glorious apparel.
15:5. And glittering in royal robes, after she had called upon God the
ruler and Saviour of all, she took two maids with her,
15:6. And upon one of them she leaned, as if for delicateness and
overmuch tenderness she were not able to bear up her own body.
15:7. And the other maid followed her lady, bearing up her train
flowing on the ground.
15:8. But she with a rosy colour in her face, and with gracious and
bright eyes hid a mind full of anguish, and exceeding great fear.
15:9. So going in she passed through all doors in order, and stood
before the king, where he sat upon his royal throne, clothed with his
royal robes, and glittering with gold, and precious stones, and he was
terrible to behold.
15:10. And when he had lifted up his countenance, and with burning eyes
had shewn the wrath of his heart, the queen sunk down, and her colour
turned pale, and she rested her weary head upon her handmaid.
15:11. And God changed the king's spirit into mildness, and all in
haste and in fear he leaped from his throne, and holding her up in his
arms, till she came to herself, caressed her with these words:
15:12. What is the matter, Esther?  I am thy brother, fear not.
15:13. Thou shalt not die:  for this law is not made for thee, but for
15:14. Come near then, and touch the sceptre.
15:15. And as she held her peace, he took the golden sceptre, and laid
it upon her neck, and kissed her, and said:  Why dost thou not speak to
15:16. She answered:  I saw thee, my lord, as an angel of God, and my
heart was troubled for fear of thy majesty.
15:17. For thou, my lord, art very admirable, and thy face is full of
15:18. And while she was speaking, she fell down again, and was almost
15:19. But the king was troubled, and all his servants comforted her.
Esther Chapter 16
A copy of the king's letter in favour of the Jews.
16:1. The great king Artaxerxes, from India to Ethiopia, to the
governors and princes of a hundred and twenty-seven provinces, which
obey our command, sendeth greeting.
From India to Ethiopia. . .That is, who reigneth from India to Ethiopia.
16:2. Many have abused unto pride the goodness of princes, and the
honour that hath been bestowed upon them:
16:3. And not only endeavour to oppress the king's subjects, but not
bearing the glory that is given them, take in hand, to practise also
against them that gave it.
16:4. Neither are they content not to return thanks for benefits
received, and to violate in themselves the laws of humanity, but they
think they can also escape the justice of God who seeth all things.
16:5. And they break out into so great madness, as to endeavour to
undermine by lies such as observe diligently the offices committed to
them, and do all things in such manner as to be worthy of all men's
16:6. While with crafty fraud they deceive the ears of princes that are
well meaning, and judge of others by their own nature.
16:7. Now this is proved both from ancient histories, and by the things
which are done daily, how the good designs of kings are depraved by the
evil suggestions of certain men.
16:8. Wherefore we must provide for the peace of all provinces.
16:9. Neither must you think, if we command different things, that it
cometh of the levity of our mind, but that we give sentence according
to the quality and necessity of times, as the profit of the
commonwealth requireth.
16:10. Now that you may more plainly understand what we say, Aman the
son of Amadathi, a Macedonian both in mind and country, and having
nothing of the Persian blood, but with his cruelty staining our
goodness, was received being a stranger by us:
16:11. And found our humanity so great towards him, that he was called
our father, and was worshipped by all as the next man after the king:
16:12. But he was so far puffed up with arrogancy, as to go about to
deprive us of our kingdom and life.
16:13. For with certain new and unheard of devices he hath sought the
destruction of Mardochai, by whose fidelity and good services our life
was saved, and of Esther the partner of our kingdom with all their
16:14. Thinking that after they were slain, he might work treason
against us left alone without friends, and might transfer the kingdom
of the Persians to the Macedonians.
16:15. But we have found that the Jews, who were by that most wicked
man appointed to be slain, are in no fault at all, but contrariwise,
use just laws,
16:16. And are the children of the highest and the greatest, and the
ever living God, by whose benefit the kingdom was given both to our
fathers and to us, and is kept unto this day.
16:17. Wherefore know ye that those letters which he sent in our name,
are void and of no effect.
16:18. For which crime both he himself that devised it, and all his
kindred hang on gibbets, before the gates of this city Susan:  not we,
but God repaying him as he deserved.
16:19. But this edict, which we now send, shall be published in all
cities, that the Jews may freely follow their own laws.
16:20. And you shall aid them that they may kill those who had prepared
themselves to kill them, on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month,
which is called Adar.
16:21. For the almighty God hath turned this day of sadness and
mourning into joy to them.
16:22. Wherefore you shall also count this day among other festival
days, and celebrate it with all joy, that it may be known also in times
16:23. That all they who faithfully obey the Persians, receive a worthy
reward for their fidelity:  but they that are traitors to their kingdom,
are destroyed for their wickedness.
16:24. And let every province and city, that will not be partaker of
this solemnity, perish by the sword and by fire, and be destroyed in
such manner as to be made unpassable, both to men and beasts, for an
example of contempt, and disobedience.
THE BOOK OF JOB
This Book takes its name from the holy man of whom it treats:  who,
according to the more probable opinion, was of the race of Esau; and
the same as Jobab, king of Edom, mentioned Gen. 36.33.  It is uncertain
who was the writer of it.  Some attribute it to Job himself; others to
Moses, or some one of the prophets.  In the Hebrew it is written in
verse, from the beginning of the third chapter to the forty-second
Job Chapter 1
Job's virtue and riches.  Satan by permission from God strippeth him of
all his substance.  His patience.
1:1. There was a man in the land of Hus, whose name was Job, and that
man was simple and upright, and fearing God, and avoiding evil.
Hus. . .The land of Hus was a part of Edom; as appears from Lam.
4.21.--Ibid.  Simple. . .That is, innocent, sincere, and without guile.
1:2. And there were born to him seven sons and three daughters.
1:3. And his possession was seven thousand sheep, and three thousand
camels, and five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she asses, and
a family exceedingly great:  and this man was great among all the people
of the east.
1:4. And his sons went, and made a feast by houses, every one in his
day.  And sending, they called their three sisters, to eat and drink
And made a feast by houses. . .That is, each made a feast in his own
house and had his day, inviting the others, and their sisters.
1:5. And when the days of their feasting were gone about, Job sent to
them, and sanctified them:  and rising up early, offered holocausts for
every one of them.  For he said:  Lest perhaps my sons have sinned, and
have blessed God in their hearts.  So did Job all days.
Blessed. . .For greater horror of the very thought of blasphemy, the
scripture both here and ver. 11, and in the following chapter, ver. 5
and 9, uses the word bless to signify its contrary.
1:6. Now on a certain day, when the sons of God came to stand before
the Lord, Satan also was present among them.
The sons of God. . .The angels.--Ibid.  Satan also, etc.  This passage
represents to us in a figure, accommodated to the ways and
understandings of men, 1. The restless endeavours of Satan against the
servants of God; 2. That he can do nothing without God's permission; 3.
That God doth not permit him to tempt them above their strength:  but
assists them by his divine grace in such manner, that the vain efforts
of the enemy only serve to illustrate their virtue and increase their
1:7. And the Lord said to him:  Whence comest thou?  And he answered and
said:  I have gone round about the earth, and walked through it.
1:8. And the Lord said to him:  Hast thou considered my servant, Job,
that there is none like him in the earth, a simple and upright man, and
fearing God, and avoiding evil?
1:9. And Satan answering, said:  Doth Job fear God in vain?
1:10. Hast thou not made a fence for him, and his house, and all his
substance round about, blessed the works of his hands, and his
possession hath increased on the earth?
1:11. But stretch forth thy hand a little, and touch all that he hath,
and see if he bless thee not to thy face.
1:12. Then the Lord said to Satan:  Behold, all that he hath is in thy
hand:  only put not forth thy hand upon his person.  And Satan went forth
from the presence of the Lord.
1:13. Now upon a certain day, when his sons and daughters were eating
and drinking wine, in the house of their eldest brother,
1:14. There came a messenger to Job, and said:  The oxen were ploughing,
and the asses feeding beside them,
1:15. And the Sabeans rushed in, and took all away, and slew the
servants with the sword; and I alone have escaped to tell thee.
1:16. And while he was yet speaking, another came, and said:  The fire
of God fell from heaven, and striking the sheep and the servants, hath
consumed them; and I alone have escaped to tell thee.
1:17. And while he also was yet speaking, there came another, and said:
The Chaldeans made three troops, and have fallen upon the camels, and
taken them; moreover, they have slain the servants with the sword:  and
I alone have escaped to tell thee.
1:18. He was yet speaking, and behold another came in, and said:  Thy
sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in the house of their
eldest brother,
1:19. A violent wind came on a sudden from the side of the desert, and
shook the four corners of the house, and it fell upon thy children, and
they are dead:  and I alone have escaped to tell thee.
1:20. Then Job rose up, and rent his garments, and having shaven his
head, fell down upon the ground, and worshipped,
1:21. And said:  Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I
return thither:  the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away:  as it hath
pleased the Lord, so is it done:  blessed be the name of the Lord.
1:22. In all these things Job sinned not by his lips, nor spoke he any
foolish thing against God.
Job Chapter 2
2:1. And it came to pass, when on a certain day the sons of God came,
and stood before the Lord, and Satan came amongst them, and stood in
2:2. That the Lord said to Satan:  Whence comest thou?  And he answered,
and said:  I have gone round about the earth, and walked through it.
2:3. And the Lord said to Satan:  Hast thou considered my servant, Job,
that there is none like him in the earth, a man simple and upright, and
fearing God, and avoiding evil, and still keeping his innocence?  But
thou hast moved me against him, that I should afflict him without
2:4. And Satan answered, and said:  Skin for skin; and all that a man
hath, he will give for his life:
2:5. But put forth thy hand, and touch his bone and his flesh, and then
thou shalt see that he will bless thee to thy face.
2:6. And the Lord said to Satan:  Behold, he is in thy hand, but yet
save his life.
2:7. So Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord, and struck Job
with a very grievous ulcer, from the sole of the foot even to the top
of his head:
2:8. And he took a potsherd and scraped the corrupt matter, sitting on
2:9. And his wife said to him:  Dost thou still continue in thy
simplicity?  bless God and die.
2:10. And he said to her:  Thou hast spoken like one of the foolish
women:  If we have received good things at the hand of God, why should
we not receive evil?  In all these things Job did not sin with his lips.
2:11. Now when Job's three friends heard all the evil that had befallen
him, they came every one from his own place, Eliphaz, the Themanite,
and Baldad, the Suhite, and Sophar, the Naamathite.  For they had made
an appointment to come together and visit him, and comfort him.
2:12. And when they had lifted up their eyes afar off, they knew him
not, and crying out, they wept, and rending their garments, they
sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven.
2:13. And they sat with him on the ground seven day and seven nights
and no man spoke to him a word:  for they saw that his grief was very
Job Chapter 3
3:1. After this, Job opened his mouth, and cursed his day,
Cursed his day. . .Job cursed the day of his birth, not by way of
wishing evil to any thing of God's creation; but only to express in a
stronger manner his sense of human miseries in general, and of his own
calamities in particular.
3:2. And he said:
3:3. Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it
was said:  A man child is conceived.
3:4. Let that day be turned into darkness, let not God regard it from
above, and let not the light shine upon it.
3:5. Let darkness, and the shadow of death, cover it, let a mist
overspread it, and let it be wrapped up in bitterness.
3:6. Let a darksome whirlwind seize upon that night, let it not be
counted in the days of the year, nor numbered in the months.
3:7. Let that night be solitary, and not worthy of praise.
3:8. Let them curse it who curse the day, who are ready to raise up a
3:9. Let the stars be darkened with the mist thereof:  let it expect
light, and not see it, nor the rising of the dawning of the day:
3:10. Because it shut not up the doors of the womb that bore me, nor
took away evils from my eyes.
3:11. Why did I not die in the womb?  why did I not perish when I came
out of the belly?
3:12. Why received upon the knees?  why suckled at the breasts?
3:13. For now I should have been asleep and still, and should have rest
in my sleep:
3:14. With kings and consuls of the earth, who build themselves
3:15. Or with princes, that possess gold, and fill their houses with
3:16. Or as a hidden untimely birth, I should not be; or as they that,
being conceived, have not seen the light.
3:17. There the wicked cease from tumult, and there the wearied in
strength are at rest.
3:18. And they sometime bound together without disquiet, have not heard
the voice of the oppressor.
3:19. The small and great are there, and the servant is free from his
3:20. Why is light given to him that is in misery, and life to them
that are in bitterness of soul?
3:21. That look for death, and it cometh not, as they that dig for a
3:22. And they rejoice exceedingly when they have found the grave?
3:23. To a man whose way is hidden, and God hath surrounded him with
3:24. Before I eat I sigh:  and as overflowing waters, so is my roaring:
3:25. For the fear which I feared, hath come upon me:  and that which I
was afraid of, hath befallen me.
3:26. Have I not dissembled?  have I not kept silence?  have I not been
quiet?  and indignation is come upon me.
Job Chapter 4
4:1. Then Eliphaz, the Themanite, answered, and said:
4:2. If we begin to speak to thee, perhaps thou wilt take it ill; but
who can withhold the words he hath conceived?
4:3. Behold thou hast taught many, and thou hast strengthened the weary
4:4. Thy words have confirmed them that were staggering, and thou hast
strengthened the trembling knees:
4:5. But now the scourge is come upon thee, and thou faintest:  It hath
touched thee, and thou art troubled.
4:6. Where is thy fear, thy fortitude, thy patience, and the perfection
of thy ways?
4:7. Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished being innocent?  or when
were the just destroyed?
4:8. On the contrary, I have seen those who work iniquity, and sow
sorrows, and reap them,
4:9. Perishing by the blast of God, and consumed by the spirit of his
4:10. The roaring of the lion, and the voice of the lioness, and the
teeth of the whelps of lions, are broken:
4:11. The tiger hath perished for want of prey, and the young lions are
scattered abroad.
4:12. Now there was a word spoken to me in private, and my ears by
stealth, as it were, received the veins of its whisper.
4:13. In the horror of a vision by night, when deep sleep is wont to
4:14. Fear seized upon me, and trembling, and all my bones were
4:15. And when a spirit passed before me, the hair of my flesh stood
4:16. There stood one whose countenance I knew not, an image before my
eyes, and I heard the voice, as it were, of a gentle wind.
4:17. Shall man be justified in comparison of God, or shall a man be
more pure than his maker?
Shall man be justified in comparison of God, etc. . .These are the words
which Eliphaz had heard from an angel, which, ver. 15, he calls a
4:18. Behold, they that serve him are not steadfast, and in his angels
he found wickedness:
4:19. How much more shall they that dwell in houses of clay, who have
an earthly foundation, be consumed as with the moth?
4:20. From morning till evening they shall be cut down:  and because no
one understandeth, they shall perish for ever.
4:21. And they that shall be left, shall be taken away from them:  they
shall die, and not in wisdom.
Job Chapter 5
5:1. Call now, if there be any that will answer thee, and turn to some
of the saints.
5:2. Anger indeed killeth the foolish, and envy slayeth the little one.
5:3. I have seen a fool with a strong root, and I cursed his beauty
immediately.
5:4. His children shall be far from safety, and shall be destroyed in
the gate, and there shall be none to deliver them.
5:5. Whose harvest the hungry shall eat, and the armed man shall take
him by violence, and the thirsty shall drink up his riches.
5:6. Nothing upon earth is done without a cause, and sorrow doth not
spring out of the ground.
5:7. Man is born to labour, and the bird to fly.
5:8. Wherefore I will pray to the Lord, and address my speech to God:
5:9. Who doth great things, and unsearchable and wonderful things
without number:
5:10. Who giveth rain upon the face of the earth, and watereth all
things with waters:
5:11. Who setteth up the humble on high, and comforteth with health
those that mourn.
5:12. Who bringeth to nought the designs of the malignant, so that
their hands cannot accomplish what they had begun:
5:13. Who catcheth the wise in their craftiness, and disappointeth the
counsel of the wicked:
5:14. They shall meet with darkness in the day, and grope at noonday as
in the night.
5:15. But he shall save the needy from the sword of their mouth, and
the poor from the hand of the violent.
5:16. And to the needy there shall be hope, but iniquity shall draw in
5:17. Blessed is the man whom God correcteth:  refuse not, therefore,
the chastising of the Lord.
5:18. For he woundeth, and cureth:  he striketh, and his hands shall
5:19. In six troubles he shall deliver thee, and in the seventh, evil
shall not touch thee.
5:20. In famine he shall deliver thee from death; and in battle, from
the hand of the sword.
5:21. Thou shalt be hidden from the scourge of the tongue:  and thou
shalt not fear calamity when it cometh.
5:22. In destruction and famine thou shalt laugh:  and thou shalt not be
afraid of the beasts of the earth.
5:23. But thou shalt have a covenant with the stones of the lands, and
the beasts of the earth shall be at peace with thee.
5:24. And thou shalt know that thy tabernacle is in peace, and visiting
thy beauty, thou shalt not sin.
5:25. Thou shalt know also that thy seed shall be multiplied, and thy
offspring like the grass of the earth.
5:26. Thou shalt enter into the grave in abundance, as a heap of wheat
is brought in its season.
5:27. Behold, this is even so, as we have searched out:  which thou
having heard, consider it thoroughly in thy mind.
Job Chapter 6
6:1. But Job answered, and said:
6:2. O that my sins, whereby I have deserved wrath, and the calamity
that I suffer, were weighed in a balance.
My sins, etc. . .He does not mean to compare his sufferings with his
real sins:  but with the imaginary crimes which his friends imputed to
him:  and especially with his wrath, or grief, expressed in the third
chapter, which they so much accused.  Though, as he tells them here, it
bore no proportion with the greatness of his calamity.
6:3. As the sand of the sea, this would appear heavier:  therefore, my
words are full of sorrow:
6:4. For the arrows of the Lord are in me, the rage whereof drinketh up
my spirit, and the terrors of the Lord war against me.
6:5. Will the wild ass bray when he hath grass?  or will the ox low when
he standeth before a full manger?
6:6. Or can an unsavoury thing be eaten, that is not seasoned with
salt?  or can a man taste that which, when tasted, bringeth death?
6:7. The things which before my soul would not touch, now, through
anguish, are my meats.
6:8. Who will grant that my request may come:  and that God may give me
what I look for?
6:9. And that he that hath begun may destroy me, that he may let loose
his hand, and cut me off?
6:10. And that this may be my comfort, that afflicting me with sorrow,
he spare not, nor I contradict the words of the Holy one.
6:11. For what is my strength, that I can hold out?  or what is my end,
that I should keep patience?
6:12. My strength is not the strength of stones, nor is my flesh of
6:13. Behold there is no help for me in myself, and my familiar friends
also are departed from me.
6:14. He that taketh away mercy from his friend, forsaketh the fear of
6:15. My brethren have passed by me, as the torrent that passeth
swiftly in the valleys.
6:16. They that fear the hoary frost, the snow shall fall upon them.
6:17. At the time when they shall be scattered they shall perish:  and
after it groweth hot, they shall be melted out of their place.
6:18. The paths of their steps are entangled:  they shall walk in vain,
and shall perish.
6:19. Consider the paths of Thema, the ways of Saba, and wait a little
6:20. They arc confounded, because I have hoped:  they are come also
even unto me, and are covered with shame.
6:21. Now you are come:  and now, seeing my affliction, you are afraid.
6:22. Did I say:  Bring to me, and give me of your substance?
6:23. Or deliver me from the hand of the enemy, and rescue me out of
the hand of the mighty?
6:24. Teach me, and I will hold my peace:  and if I have been ignorant
of any thing, instruct me.
6:25. Why have you detracted the words of truth, whereas there is none
of you that can reprove me?
6:26. You dress up speeches only to rebuke, and you utter words to the
6:27. You rush in upon the fatherless, and you endeavour to overthrow
your friend.
6:28. However, finish what you have begun:  give ear and see whether I
6:29. Answer, I beseech you, without contention:  and speaking that
which is just, judge ye.
6:30. And you shall not find iniquity in my tongue, neither shall folly
sound in my mouth.
Job Chapter 7
7:1. The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the
days of a hireling.
7:2. As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for
the end of his work;
7:3. So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself
wearisome nights.
7:4. If I lie down to sleep, I shall say:  When shall I rise?  and again,
I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even
till darkness.
7:5. My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust; my skin
is withered and drawn together.
7:6. My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the
weaver, and are consumed without any hope.
7:7. Remember that my life is but wind, and my eye shall not return to
see good things.
7:8. Nor shall the sight of man behold me:  thy eyes are upon me, and I
shall be no more.
7:9. As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away:  so he that shall go down
to hell shall not come up.
7:10. Nor shall he return any more into his house, neither shall his
place know him any more
7:11. Wherefore, I will not spare my month, I will speak in the
affliction of my spirit:  I will talk with the bitterness of my soul.
7:12. Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou hast inclosed me in a prison?
7:13. If I say:  My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved,
speaking with myself on my couch:
7:14. Thou wilt frighten me with dreams, and terrify me with visions.
7:15. So that my soul rather chooseth hanging, and my bones death.
7:16. I have done with hope, I shall now live no longer:  spare me, for
my days are nothing.
7:17. What is a man, that thou shouldst magnify him or why dost thou
set thy heart upon him?
7:18. Thou visitest him early in the morning, and thou provest him
7:19. How long wilt thou not spare me, nor suffer me to swallow down my
7:20. I have sinned:  what shall I do to thee, O keeper of men?  why hast
thou set me opposite to thee.  and am I become burdensome to myself?
7:21. Why dost thou not remove my sin, and why dost thou not take away
my iniquity?  Behold now I shall sleep in the dust:  and if thou seek me
in the morning, I shall not be.
Job Chapter 8
8:1. Then Baldad, the Suhite, answered, and said:
8:2. How long wilt thou speak these things, and how long shall the
words of thy mouth be like a strong wind?
8:3. Doth God pervert judgment, or doth the Almighty overthrow that
which is just?
8:4. Although thy children have sinned against him, and he hath left
them in the hand of their iniquity:
8:5. Yet if thou wilt arise early to God, and wilt beseech the
8:6. If thou wilt walk clean and upright, he will presently awake unto
thee, and will make the dwelling of thy justice peaceable:
8:7. In so much, that if thy former things were small thy latter things
would be multiplied exceedingly.
8:8. For inquire of the former generation, and search diligently into
the memory of the fathers:
8:9. (For we are but of yesterday, and are ignorant that our days upon
earth are but a shadow
8:10. And they shall teach thee:  they shall speak to thee, and utter
words out of their hearts.
8:11. Can the rush be green without moisture?  or sedge bush grow
without water?
8:12. When it is yet in flower, and is not plucked u with the hand, it
withereth before all herbs.
8:13. Even so are the ways of all that forget God, an the hope of the
hypocrite shall perish:
8:14. His folly shall not please him, and his trust shall be like the
spider's web.
8:15. He shall lean upon his house, and it shall no stand:  he shall
prop it up, and it shall not rise:
8:16. He seemeth to have moisture before the sun cometh; and at his
rising, his blossom shall shoot forth.
8:17. His roots shall be thick upon a heap of stones; and among the
stones he shall abide.
8:18. If one swallow him up out of his place, he shall deny him, and
shall say:  I know thee not.
8:19. For this is the joy of his way, that others may spring again out
of the earth.
8:20. God will not cast away the simple, nor reach out his hand to the
8:21. Until thy mouth be filled with laughter, and thy lips with
8:22. They that hate thee, shall be clothed with confusion:  and the
dwelling of the wicked shall not stand.
Job Chapter 9
9:1. And Job answered, and said:
9:2. Indeed I know it is so, and that man cannot be justified, compared
9:3. If he will contend with him, he cannot answer him one for a
9:4. He is wise in heart, and mighty in strength:  who hath resisted
him, and hath had peace?
9:5. Who hath removed mountains, and they whom he overthrew in his
wrath, knew it not.
9:6. Who shaketh the earth out of her place, and the pillars thereof
9:7. Who commandeth the sun, and it riseth not:  and shutteth up the
stars, as it were, under a seal:
9:8. Who alone spreadeth out the heavens, and walketh upon the waves of
9:9. Who maketh Arcturus, and Orion, and Hyades, and the inner parts of
Arcturus, etc. . .These are names of stars or constellations.  In Hebrew,
Ash, Cesil, and Cimah.  See note chap. 38, ver. 31.
9:10. Who doth things great and incomprehensible, and wonderful, of
which there is no number.
9:11. If he come to me, I shall not see him:  if he depart, I shall not
9:12. If he examine on a sudden, who shall answer him?  or who can say:
Why dost thou so?
9:13. God, whose wrath no man can resist, and under whom they stoop
that bear up the world.
9:14. What am I then, that I should answer him, and have words with
9:15. I, who although I should have any just thing, would not answer,
but would make supplication to my judge.
9:16. And if he should hear me when I call, I should not believe that
he had heard my voice.
9:17. For he shall crush me in a whirlwind, and multiply my wounds even
without cause.
Without cause. . .That is, without my knowing the cause:  or without any
crime of mine.
9:18. He alloweth not my spirit to rest, and he filleth me with
9:19. If strength be demanded, he is most strong:  if equity of
judgment, no man dare bear witness for me.
9:20. If I would justify myself, my own mouth shall condemn me:  if I
would shew myself innocent, he shall prove me wicked.
9:21. Although I should be simple, even this my soul shall be ignorant
of, and I shall be weary of my life.
9:22. One thing there is that I have spoken, both the innocent and the
wicked he consumeth.
9:23. If he scourge, let him kill at once, and not laugh at the pains
of the innocent.
9:24. The earth is given into the hand of the wicked, he covereth the
face of the judges thereof:  and if it be not he, who is it then?
9:25. My days have been swifter than a post:  they have fled away and
have not seen good.
9:26. They have passed by as ships carrying fruits, as an eagle flying
to the prey.
9:27. If I say:  I will not speak so:  I change my face, and am tormented
with sorrow.
9:28. I feared all my works, knowing that thou didst not spare the
9:29. But if so also I am wicked, why have I laboured in vain?
9:30. If I be washed, as it were, with snow waters, and my hands shall
shine ever so clean:
9:31. Yet thou shalt plunge me in filth, and my garments shall abhor
9:32. For I shall not answer a man that is like myself:  nor one that
may be heard with me equally in judgment.
9:33. There is none that may be able to reprove both, and to put his
hand between both.
9:34. Let him take his rod away from me, and let not his fear terrify
9:35. I will speak, and will not fear him:  for I cannot answer while I
Job Chapter 10
10:1. My soul is weary of my life, I will let go my speech against
myself, I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
10:2. I will say to God:  Do not condemn me:  tell me why thou judgest me
10:3. Doth it seem good to thee that thou shouldst calumniate me, and
oppress me, the work of thy own hands, and help the counsel of the
10:4. Hast thou eyes of flesh:  or, shalt thou see as man seeth?
10:5. Are thy days as the days of man, and are thy years as the times
10:6. That thou shouldst inquire after my iniquity, and search after my
10:7. And shouldst know that I have done no wicked thing, whereas there
is no man that can deliver out of thy hand?
10:8. Thy hands have made me, and fashioned me wholly round about, and
dost thou thus cast me down headlong on a sudden?
10:9. Remember, I beseech thee, that thou hast made me as the clay, and
thou wilt bring me into dust
10:10. Hast thou not milked me as milk, and curdled me like cheese?
10:11. Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh:  thou hast put me
together with bones and sinews:
10:12. Thou hast granted me life and mercy, and thy visitation hath
preserved my spirit.
10:13. Although thou conceal these things in thy heart, yet I know that
thou rememberest all things.
10:14. If I have sinned, and thou hast spared me for an hour:  why dost
thou not suffer me to be clean from my iniquity?
10:15. And if I be wicked, woe unto me:  and if just, I shall not lift
up my head, being filled with affliction and misery.
10:16. And for pride thou wilt take me as a lioness, and returning,
thou tormentest me wonderfully.
10:17. Thou renewest thy witnesses against me, and multipliest thy
wrath upon me, and pains war against me.
10:18. Why didst thou bring me forth out of the womb?  O that I had been
consumed, that eye might not see me l
10:19. I should have been as if I had not been, carried from the womb
to the grave.
10:20. Shall not the fewness of my days be ended shortly?  Suffer me,
therefore, that I may lament my sorrow a little:
10:21. Before I go and return no more, to a land that is dark and
covered with the mist of death:
10:22. A land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death, and no
order, but everlasting horror dwelleth.
Job Chapter 11
Sophar reproves Job, for justifying himself, and invites him to
11:1. Then Sophar the Naamathite answered, and said:
11:2. Shall not he that speaketh much, hear also?  or shall a man full
of talk be justified?
11:3. Shall men hold their peace to thee only?  and when thou hast
mocked others, shall no man confute thee?
11:4. For thou hast said:  My word is pure, and I am clean in thy sight.
11:5. And I wish that God would speak with thee, and would open his
lips to thee,
11:6. That he might shew thee the secrets of wisdom, and that his law
is manifold, and thou mightest understand that he exacteth much less of
thee, than thy iniquity deserveth.
11:7. Peradventure thou wilt comprehend the steps of God, and wilt find
out the Almighty perfectly?
11:8. He is higher than heaven, and what wilt thou do?  he is deeper
than hell, and how wilt thou know?
11:9. The measure of him is longer than the earth, and broader than the
11:10. If he shall overturn all things, or shall press them together,
who shall contradict him?
11:11. For he knoweth the vanity of men, and when he seeth iniquity,
doth he not consider it?
11:12. A vain man is lifted up into pride, and thinketh himself born
free like a wild ass's colt.
11:13. But thou hast hardened thy heart, and hast spread thy hands to
11:14. If thou wilt put away from thee the iniquity that is in thy
hand, and let not injustice remain in thy tabernacle:
11:15. Then mayst thou lift up thy face without spot, and thou shalt be
steadfast, and shalt not fear.
11:16. Thou shalt also forget misery, and remember it only as waters
that are passed away.
11:17. And brightness like that of the noonday, shall arise to thee at
evening:  and when thou shalt think thyself consumed, thou shalt rise as
the day star.
11:18. And thou shalt have confidence, hope being set before thee, and
being buried thou shalt sleep secure.
11:19. Thou shalt rest, and there shall be none to make thee afraid:
and many shall entreat thy face.
11:20. But the eyes of the wicked shall decay, and the way to escape
shall fail them, and their hope the abomination of the soul.
Job Chapter 12
Job's reply to Sophar.  He extols God's power and wisdom.
12:1. Then Job answered, and said:
12:2. Are you then men alone, and shall wisdom die with you?
12:3. I also have a heart as well as you:  for who is ignorant of these
things, which you know?
12:4. He that is mocked by his friends as I, shall call upon God and he
will hear him:  for the simplicity of the just man is laughed to scorn.
12:5. The lamp despised in the thoughts of the rich, is ready for the
time appointed.
12:6. The tabernacles of robbers abound, and they provoke God boldly;
whereas it is he that hath given all into their hands:
12:7. But ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee:  and the birds
of the air, and they shall tell thee.
12:8. Speak to the earth, and it shall answer thee:  and the fishes of
the sea shall tell.
12:9. Who is ignorant that the hand of the Lord hath made all these
12:10. In whose hand is the soul of every living thing, and the spirit
of all flesh of man.
12:11. Doth not the ear discern words, and the palate of him that
eateth, the taste?
12:12. In the ancient is wisdom, and in length of days prudence.
12:13. With him is wisdom and strength, he hath counsel and
understanding.
12:14. If he pull down, there is no man that can build up:  if he shut
up a man, there is none that can open.
12:15. If he withhold the waters, all things shall be dried up:  and if
he send them out, they shall overturn the earth.
12:16. With him is strength and wisdom:  he knoweth both the deceivers,
and him that is deceived.
12:17. He bringeth counsellors to a foolish end, and judges to
insensibility.
12:18. He looseth the belt of kings, and girdeth their loins with a
12:19. He leadeth away priests without glory, and overthroweth nobles.
12:20. He changeth the speech of the true speakers, and taketh away the
doctrine of the aged.
12:21. He poureth contempt upon princes, and relieveth them that were
12:22. He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth up to
light the shadow of death.
12:23. He multiplieth nations, and destroyeth them, and restoreth them
again after they were overthrown.
12:24. He changeth the heart of the princes of the people of the earth,
and deceiveth them that they walk in vain where there is no way.
12:25. They shall grope as in the dark, and not in the light, and he
shall make them stagger like men that are drunk.
Job Chapter 13
Job persists in maintaining his innocence:  and reproves his friends.
13:1. Behold my eye hath seen all these things, and my ear hath heard
them, and I have understood them all.
13:2. According to your knowledge I also know:  neither am I inferior to
13:3. But yet I will speak to the Almighty, and I desire to reason with
13:4. Having first shewn that you are forgers of lies, and maintainers
of perverse opinions.
13:5. And I wish you would hold your peace, that you might be thought
to be wise men.
13:6. Hear ye therefore my reproof, and attend to the judgment of my
13:7. Hath God any need of your lie, that you should speak deceitfully
13:8. Do you accept this person, and do you endeavour to judge for God?
13:9. Or shall it please him, from whom nothing can be concealed?  or
shall he be deceived as a man, with your deceitful dealings?
13:10. He shall reprove you, because in secret you accept his person.
13:11. As soon as he shall move himself, he shall trouble you:  and his
dread shall fall upon you.
13:12. Your remembrance shall be compared to ashes, and your necks
shall be brought to clay.
13:13. Hold your peace a little while, that I may speak whatsoever my
mind shall suggest to me.
13:14. Why do I tear my flesh with my teeth, and carry my soul in my
13:15. Although he should kill me, I will trust in him:  but yet I will
reprove my ways in his sight.
13:16. And he shall be my saviour:  for no hypocrite shall come before
his presence.
13:17. Hear ye my speech, and receive with your ears hidden truths.
13:18. If I shall be judged, I know that I shall be found just.
13:19. Who is he that will plead against me?  let him come:  why am I
consumed holding my peace?
13:20. Two things only do not to me, and then from thy face I shall not
13:21. Withdraw thy hand far from me, and let not thy dread terrify me.
13:22. Call me, and I will answer thee:  or else I will speak, and do
thou answer me.
13:23. How many are my iniquities and sins?  make me know my crimes and
13:24. Why hidest thou thy face, and thinkest me thy enemy?
13:25. Against a leaf, that is carried away with the wind, thou shewest
thy power, and thou pursuest a dry straw.
13:26. For thou writest bitter things against me, and wilt consume me
for the sins of my youth.
13:27. Thou hast put my feet in the stocks, and hast observed all my
paths, and hast considered the steps of my feet:
13:28. Who am to be consumed as rottenness, and as a garment that is
Job Chapter 14
Job declares the shortness of man's days:  and professes his belief of a
resurrection.
14:1. Man born of a woman, living for a short time, is filled with many
14:2. Who cometh forth like a flower, and is destroyed, and fleeth as a
shadow, and never continueth in the same state.
14:3. And dost thou think it meet to open thy eyes upon such an one,
and to bring him into judgment with thee?
14:4. Who can make him clean that is conceived of unclean seed?  is it
not thou who only art?
14:5. The days of man are short, and the number of his months is with
thee:  thou hast appointed his bounds which cannot be passed.
14:6. Depart a little from him, that he may rest until his wished for
day come, as that of the hireling.
14:7. A tree hath hope:  if it be cut, it growth green again, and the
boughs thereof sprout.
14:8. If its roots be old in the earth, and its stock be dead in the
14:9. At the scent of water, it shall spring, and bring forth leaves,
as when it was first planted.
14:10. But man when he shall be dead, and stripped and consumed, I pray
you where is he?
14:11. As if the waters should depart out of the sea, and an emptied
river should be dried up;
14:12. So man when he is fallen asleep shall not rise again; till the
heavens be broken, he shall not awake, nor rise up out of his sleep.
14:13. Who will grant me this, that thou mayst protect me in hell, and
hide me till thy wrath pass, and appoint me a time when thou wilt
remember me?
That thou mayst protect me in hell. . .That is, in the state of the
dead; and in the place where the souls are kept waiting for their
14:14. Shall man that is dead, thinkest thou, live again?  all the days
in which I am now in warfare, I expect until my change come.
14:15. Thou shalt call me, and I will answer thee:  to the work of thy
hands thou shalt reach out thy right hand.
14:16. Thou indeed hast numbered my steps, but spare my sins.
14:17. Thou hast sealed up my offences as it were in a bag, but hast
cured my iniquity.
14:18. A mountain falling cometh to nought, and a rock is removed out
of its place.
14:19. Waters wear away the stones, and with inundation the ground by
little and little is washed away:  so in like manner thou shalt destroy
14:20. Thou hast strengthened him for a little while, that he may pass
away for ever:  thou shalt change his face, and shalt send him away.
14:21. Whether his children come to honour or dishonour, he shall not
14:22. But yet his flesh, while he shall live, shall have pain, and his
soul shall mourn over him.
Job Chapter 15
Eliphaz returns to the charge against Job, and describes the wretched
state of the wicked.
15:1. And Eliphaz the Themanite, answered, and said:
15:2. Will a wise man answer as if he were speaking in the wind, and
fill his stomach with burning heat?
15:3. Thou reprovest him by words, who is not equal to thee, and thou
speakest that which is not good for thee.
15:4. As much as is in thee, thou hast made void fear, and hast taken
away prayers from before God.
Thou hast made void fear. . .That is, cast off the fear of offending
15:5. For thy iniquity hath taught thy mouth, and thou imitatest the
tongue of blasphemers.
15:6. Thy own mouth shall condemn thee, and not I:  and thy own lips
shall answer thee.
15:7. Art thou the first man that was born, or wast thou made before
15:8. Hast thou heard God's counsel, and shall his wisdom be inferior
15:9. What knowest thou that we are ignorant of?  what dost thou
understand that we know not?
15:10. There are with us also aged and ancient men, much elder than thy
15:11. Is it a great matter that God should comfort thee?  but thy
wicked words hinder this.
15:12. Why doth thy heart elevate thee, and why dost thou stare with
thy eyes, as if they were thinking great things?
15:13. Why doth thy spirit swell against God, to utter such words out
of thy mouth?
15:14. What is man that he should be without spot, and he that is born
of a woman that he should appear just?
15:15. Behold among his saints none is unchangeable, and the heavens
are not pure in his sight.
15:16. How much more is man abominable, and unprofitable, who drinketh
iniquity like water?
15:17. I will shew thee, hear me:  and I will tell thee what I have
15:18. Wise men confess and hide not their fathers.
Wise men confess and hide not their fathers. . .That is, the knowledge
and documents they have received from their fathers they are not
ashamed to own.
15:19. To whom alone the earth was given, and no stranger hath passed
15:20. The wicked man is proud all his days, and the number of the
years of his tyranny is uncertain.
15:21. The sound of dread is always in his ears:  and when there is
peace, he always suspecteth treason.
15:22. He believeth not that he may return from darkness to light,
looking round about for the sword on every side.
15:23. When he moveth himself to seek bread, he knoweth that the day of
darkness is ready at his hand.
15:24. Tribulation shall terrify him, and distress shall surround him,
as a king that is prepared for the battle.
15:25. For he hath stretched out his hand against God, and hath
strengthened himself against the Almighty.
15:26. He hath run against him with his neck raised up, and is armed
with a fat neck.
15:27. Fatness hath covered his face, and the fat hangeth down on his
15:28. He hath dwelt in desolate cities, and in desert houses that are
reduced into heaps.
15:29. He shall not be enriched, neither shall his substance continue,
neither shall he push his root in the earth.
15:30. He shall not depart out of darkness:  the flame shall dry up his
branches, and he shall be taken away by the breath of his own mouth.
15:31. He shall not believe, being vainly deceived by error, that he
may be redeemed with any price.
15:32. Before his days be full he shall perish:  and his hands shall
wither away.
15:33. He shall be blasted as a vine when its grapes are in the first
flower, and as an olive tree that casteth its flower.
15:34. For the congregation of the hypocrite is barren, and fire shall
devour their tabernacles, who love to take bribes.
15:35. He hath conceived sorrow, and hath brought forth iniquity, and
his womb prepareth deceits.
Job Chapter 16
Job expostulates with his friends:  and appeals to the judgment of God.
16:1. Then Job answered, and said:
16:2. I have often heard such things as these:  you are all troublesome
16:3. Shall windy words have no end?  or is it any trouble to thee to
16:4. I also could speak like you:  and would God your soul were for my
16:5. I would comfort you also with words, and would wag my head over
16:6. I would strengthen you with my mouth, and would move my lips, as
sparing you.
16:7. But what shall I do?  If I speak, my pain will not rest:  and if I
hold my peace, it will not depart from me.
16:8. But now my sorrow hath oppressed me, and all my limbs are brought
16:9. My wrinkles bear witness against me, and a false speaker riseth
up against my face, contradicting me.
16:10. He hath gathered together his fury against me, and threatening
me he hath gnashed with his teeth upon me:  my enemy hath beheld me with
terrible eyes.
16:11. They have opened their mouths upon me, and reproaching me they
have struck me on the cheek, they are filled with my pains.
16:12. God hath shut me up with the unjust man, and hath delivered me
into the hands of the wicked.
16:13. I that was formerly so wealthy, am all on a sudden broken to
pieces:  he hath taken me by my neck, he hath broken me, and hath set me
up to be his mark.
16:14. He hath compassed me round about with his lances, he hath
wounded my loins, he hath not spared, and hath poured out my bowels on
16:15. He hath torn me with wound upon wound, he hath rushed in upon me
like a giant.
16:16. I have sowed sackcloth upon my skin, and have covered my flesh
16:17. My face is swollen with weeping, and my eyelids are dim.
16:18. These things have I suffered without the iniquity of my hand,
when I offered pure prayers to God.
16:19. O earth, cover not thou my blood, neither let my cry find a
hiding place in thee.
16:20. For behold my witness is in heaven, and he that knoweth my
conscience is on high.
16:21. My friends are full of words:  my eye poureth out tears to God.
16:22. And O that a man might so be judged with God, as the son of man
is judged with his companion!
16:23. For behold short years pass away, and I am walking in a path by
which I shall not return.
Job Chapter 17
Job's hope in God:  he expects rest in death.
17:1. My spirit shall be wasted, my days shall be shortened and only
the grave remaineth for me.
17:2. I have not sinned, and my eye abideth in bitterness.
Not sinned. . .That is, I am not guilty of such sins as they charge me
17:3. Deliver me, O Lord, and set me beside thee, and let any man's
hand fight against me.
17:4. Thou hast set their heart far from understanding, therefore they
shall not be exalted.
17:5. He promiseth a prey to his companions, and the eyes of his
children shall fail.
17:6. He hath made me as it were a byword of the people, and I am an
example before them.
17:7. My eye is dim through indignation, and my limbs are brought as it
were to nothing.
17:8. The just shall be astonished at this, and the innocent shall be
raised up against the hypocrite.
17:9. And the just man shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean
hands shall be stronger and stronger.
17:10. Wherefore be you all converted, and come, and I shall not find
among you any wise man.
17:11. My days have passed away, my thoughts are dissipated, tormenting
17:12. They have turned night into day, and after darkness I hope for
light again.
17:13. If I wait hell is my house, and I have made my bed in darkness.
Hell. . .Sheol.  The region of the dead.
17:14. I have said to rottenness:  Thou art my father; to worms, my
mother and my sister.
17:15. Where is now then my expectation, and who considereth my
17:16. All that I have shall go down into the deepest pit:  thinkest
thou that there at least I shall have rest?
Deepest pit. . .Literally, hell.
Job Chapter 18
Baldad again reproves Job and describes the miseries of the wicked.
18:1. Then Baldad the Suhite answered, and said:
18:2. How long will you throw out words?  understand first, and so let
18:3. Why are we reputed as beasts, and counted vile before you?
18:4. Thou that destroyest thy soul in thy fury, shall the earth be
forsaken for thee, and shall rocks be removed out of their place?
18:5. Shall not the light of the wicked be extinguished, and the flame
of his fire not shine?
18:6. The light shall be dark in his tabernacle, and the lamp that is
over him, shall be put out.
18:7. The step of his strength shall be straitened, and his own counsel
shall cast him down headlong.
18:8. For he hath thrust his feet into a net, and walketh in its
18:9. The sole of his foot shall be held in a snare, and thirst shall
burn against him.
18:10. A gin is hidden for him in the earth, and his trap upon the
18:11. Fears shall terrify him on every side, and shall entangle his
18:12. Let his strength be wasted with famine, and let hunger invade
18:13. Let it devour the beauty of his skin, let the firstborn death
consume his arms.
18:14. Let his confidence be rooted out of his tabernacle, and let
destruction tread upon him like a king.
18:15. Let the companions of him that is not, dwell in his tabernacle,
let brimstone be sprinkled in his tent.
18:16. Let his roots be dried up beneath, and his harvest destroyed
18:17. Let the memory of him perish from the earth, and let not his
name be renowned in the streets.
18:18. He shall drive him out of light into darkness, and shall remove
him out of the world.
18:19. His seed shall not subsist, nor his offspring among his people,
nor any remnants in his country.
18:20. They that come after him shall be astonished at his day, and
horror shall fall upon them that went before.
18:21. These then are the tabernacles of the wicked, and this the place
of him that knoweth not God.
Job Chapter 19
Job complains of the cruelty of his friends; he describes his own
sufferings:  and his belief of a future resurrection.
19:1. Then Job answered, and said:
19:2. How long do you afflict my soul, and break me in pieces with
19:3. Behold, these ten times you confound me, and are not ashamed to
19:4. For if I have been ignorant, my ignorance shall be with me.
19:5. But you set yourselves up against me, and reprove me with my
19:6. At least now understand, that God hath not afflicted me with an
equal judgment, and compassed me with his scourges.
With an equal judgment. . .St. Gregory explains these words thus:  Job
being a just man, and truly considering his own life, thought that his
affliction was greater than his sins deserved:  and in that respect,
that the punishment was not equal, yet it was just, as coming from God,
who gives a crown of justice to those who suffer for righteousness'
sake, and proves the just with tribulations, as gold is tried by fire.
19:7. Behold I shall cry suffering violence, and no one will hear:  I
shall cry aloud, and there is none to judge.
19:8. He hath hedged in my path round about, and I cannot pass, and in
my way he hath set darkness.
19:9. He hath stripped me of my glory, and hath taken the crown from my
19:10. He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am lost, and he hath
taken away my hope, as from a tree that is plucked up.
19:11. His wrath is kindled against me, and he hath counted me as his
19:12. His troops have come together, and have made themselves a way by
me, and have besieged my tabernacle round about.
19:13. He hath put my brethren far from me, and my acquaintance like
strangers have departed from me.
19:14. My kinsmen have forsaken me, and they that knew me, have
forgotten me.
19:15. They that dwell in my house, and my maidservants have counted me
as a stranger, and I have been like an alien in their eyes.
19:16. I called my servant, and he gave me no answer, I entreated him
with my own mouth.
19:17. My wife hath abhorred my breath, and I entreated the children of
19:18. Even fools despised me, and when I was gone from them, they
spoke against me.
19:19. They that were sometime my counsellors, have abhorred me:  and he
whom I loved most is turned against me.
19:20. The flesh being consumed, my bone hath cleaved to my skin, and
nothing but lips are left about my teeth.
19:21. Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends,
because the hand of the Lord hath touched me.
19:22. Why do you persecute me as God, and glut yourselves with my
19:23. Who will grant me that my words may be written?  who will grant
me that they may be marked down in a book?
19:24. With an iron pen and in a plate of lead, or else be graven with
an instrument in flint stone?
19:25. For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and in the last day I shall
rise out of the earth.
Ver. 25, 26, and 27 shew Job's explicit belief in his Redeemer, and
also of the resurrection of the flesh, not as one tree riseth in place
of another, but that the selfsame flesh shall rise at the last day, by
the power of God, changed in quality but not in substance, every one to
receive sentence according to his works in this life.
19:26. And I shall be clothed again with my skin, and in my flesh I
shall see my God.
19:27. Whom I myself shall see, and my eyes shall behold, and not
another:  this my hope is laid up in my bosom.
19:28. Why then do you say now:  Let us persecute him, and let us find
occasion of word against him?
19:29. Flee then from the face of the sword, for the sword is the
revenger of iniquities:  and know ye that there is a judgment.
Job Chapter 20
Sophar declares the shortness of the prosperity of the wicked:  and
their sudden downfall.
20:1. Then Sophar the Naamathite answered, and said:
20:2. Therefore various thoughts succeed one another in me, and my mind
is hurried away to different things.
20:3. The doctrine with which thou reprovest me, I will hear, and the
spirit of my understanding shall answer for me.
20:4. This I know from the beginning, since man was placed upon the
20:5. That the praise of the wicked is short, and the joy of the
hypocrite but for a moment.
20:6. If his pride mount up even to heaven, and his head touch the
20:7. In the end he shall be destroyed like a dunghill, and they that
had seen him, shall say:  Where is he?
20:8. As a dream that fleeth away he shall not be found, he shall pass
as a vision of the night:
20:9. The eyes that had seen him, shall see him no more, neither shall
his place any more behold him.
20:10. His children shall be oppressed with want, and his hands shall
render to him his sorrow.
20:11. His bones shall be filled with the vices of his youth, and they
shall sleep with him in the dust.
20:12. For when evil shall be sweet in his mouth, he will hide it under
20:13. He will spare it, and not leave it, and will hide it in his
20:14. His bread in his belly shall be turned into the gall of asps
20:15. The riches which he hath swallowed, he shall vomit up, and God
shall draw them out of his belly.
20:16. He shall suck the head of asps, and the viper's tongue shall
20:17. Let him not see the streams of the river, the brooks of honey
and of butter.
20:18. He shall be punished for all that he did, and yet shall not be
consumed:  according to the multitude of his devices so also shall he
According to the multitude of his devices. . .That is, his stratagems to
gratify his passions and to oppress and destroy the poor.
20:19. Because he broke in and stripped the poor:  he hath violently
taken away a house which he did not build.
20:20. And yet his belly was not filled:  and when he hath the things he
coveted, he shall not be able to possess them.
20:21. There was nothing left of his meat, and therefore nothing shall
continue of his goods:
20:22. When he shall be filled, he shall be straitened, he shall burn,
and every sorrow shall fall upon him.
20:23. May his belly be filled, that God may send forth the wrath of
his indignation upon him, and rain down his war upon him.
20:24. He shall flee from weapons of iron, and shall fall upon a bow of
20:25. The sword is drawn out, and cometh forth from its scabbard, and
glittereth in his bitterness:  the terrible ones shall go and come upon
20:26. All darkness is hid in his secret places:  a fire that is not
kindled shall devour him, he shall be afflicted when left in his
20:27. The heavens shall reveal his iniquity, and the earth shall rise
up against him.
20:28. The offspring of his house shall be exposed, he shall be pulled
down in the day of God's wrath.
20:29. This is the portion of a wicked man from God, and the
inheritance of his doings from the Lord.
Job Chapter 21
Job shews that the wicked often prosper in this world, even to the end
of their life:  but that their judgment is in another world.
21:1. Then Job answered, and said:
21:2. Hear, I beseech you, my words, and do penance.
21:3. Suffer me, and I will speak, and after, if you please, laugh at
21:4. Is my debate against man, that I should not have just reason to
be troubled?
21:5. Hearken to me and be astonished, and lay your finger on your
21:6. As for me, when I remember, I am afraid, and trembling taketh
hold on my flesh.
21:7. Why then do the wicked live, are they advanced, and strengthened
with riches?
21:8. Their seed continueth before them, a multitude of kinsmen, and of
children's children in their sight.
21:9. Their houses are secure and peaceable, and the rod of God is not
21:10. Their cattle have conceived, and failed not:  their cow has
calved, and is not deprived of her fruit.
21:11. Their little ones go out like a flock, and their children dance
21:12. They take the timbrel, and the harp, and rejoice at the sound of
21:13. They spend their days in wealth, and in a moment they go down to
21:14. Who have said to God:  Depart from us, we desire not the
knowledge of thy ways.
21:15. Who is the Almighty, that we should serve him?  and what doth it
profit us if we pray to him?
21:16. Yet because their good things are not in their hand, may the
counsel of the wicked be far from me.
21:17. How often shall the lamp of the wicked be put out, and a deluge
come upon them, and he shall distribute the sorrows of his wrath?
21:18. They shall be as chaff before the face of the wind, and as ashes
which the whirlwind scattereth.
21:19. God shall lay up the sorrow of the father for his children:  and
when he shall repay, then shall he know.
21:20. His eyes shall see his own destruction, and he shall drink of
the wrath of the Almighty.
21:21. For what is it to him what befalleth his house after him:  and if
the number of his months be diminished by one half?
21:22. Shall any one teach God knowledge, who judgeth those that are
21:23. One man dieth strong, and hale, rich and happy.
21:24. His bowels are full of fat, and his bones are moistened with
21:25. But another dieth in bitterness of soul without any riches:
21:26. And yet they shall sleep together in the dust, and worms shall
21:27. Surely I know your thoughts, and your unjust judgments against
21:28. For you say:  Where is the house of the prince?  and where are the
dwelling places of the wicked?
21:29. Ask any one of them that go by the way, and you shall perceive
that he knoweth these same things.
21:30. Because the wicked man is reserved to the day of destruction,
and he shall be brought to the day of wrath.
21:31. Who shall reprove his way to his face?  and who shall repay him
what he hath done?
21:32. He shall be brought to the graves, and shall watch in the heap
of the dead.
21:33. He hath been acceptable to the gravel of Cocytus, and he shall
draw every man after him, and there are innumerable before him.
Acceptable to the gravel of Cocytus. . .The Hebrew word, which St.
Jerome has here rendered by the name Cocytus, (which the poets
represent as a river in hell,) signifies a valley or a torrent:  and in
this place, is taken for the low region of death and hell:  which
willingly, as it were, receives the wicked at their death:  who are
ushered in by innumerable others that have gone before them; and are
followed by multitudes above number.
21:34. How then do ye comfort me in vain, whereas your answer is shewn
to be repugnant to truth?
Job Chapter 22
Eliphaz falsely imputes many crimes to Job, but promises him prosperity
if he will repent.
22:1. Then Eliphaz the Themanite answered, and said:
22:2. Can man be compared with God, even though he were of perfect
22:3. What doth it profit God if thou be just?  or what dost thou give
him if thy way be unspotted?
22:4. Shall he reprove thee for fear, and come with thee into judgment:
22:5. And not for thy manifold wickedness and thy infinite iniquities?
22:6. For thou hast taken away the pledge of thy brethren without
cause, and stripped the naked of their clothing.
22:7. Thou hast not given water to the weary, thou hast withdrawn bread
from the hungry.
22:8. In the strength of thy arm thou didst possess the land, and being
the most mighty thou holdest it.
22:9. Thou hast sent widows away empty, and the arms of the fatherless
thou hast broken in pieces.
22:10. Therefore art thou surrounded with shares, and sudden fear
troubleth thee.
22:11. And didst thou think that thou shouldst not see darkness, and
that thou shouldst not be covered with the violence of overflowing
22:12. Dost not thou think that God is higher than heaven, and is
elevated above the height of the stars?
22:13. And thou sayst:  What doth God know?  and he judgeth as it were
through a mist.
22:14. The clouds are his covert, and he doth not consider our things,
and he walketh about the poles of heaven.
22:15. Dost thou desire to keep the path of ages, which wicked men have
22:16. Who were taken away before their time, and a flood hath
overthrown their foundation.
22:17. Who said to God:  Depart from us:  and looked upon the Almighty as
if he could do nothing:
22:18. Whereas he had filled their houses with good things:  whose way
of thinking be far from me.
22:19. The just shall see, and shall rejoice, and the innocent shall
laugh them to scorn.
22:20. Is not their exaltation cut down, and hath not fire devoured the
remnants of them?
22:21. Submit thyself then to him, and be at peace:  and thereby thou
shalt have the best fruits.
22:22. Receive the law of his mouth, and lay up his words in thy heart.
22:23. If thou wilt return to the Almighty, thou shalt be built up, and
shalt put away iniquity far from thy tabernacle.
22:24. He shall give for earth flint, and for flint torrents of gold.
22:25. And the Almighty shall be against thy enemies, and silver shall
be heaped together for thee.
22:26. Then shalt thou abound in delights in the Almighty, and shalt
lift up thy face to God.
22:27. Thou shalt pray to him, and he will hear thee, and thou shalt
22:28. Thou shalt decree a thing, and it shall come to thee, and light
shall shine in thy ways.
22:29. For he that hath been humbled, shall be in glory:  and he that
shall bow down his eyes, he shall be saved.
22:30. The innocent shall be saved, and he shall be saved by the
cleanness of his hands.
Job Chapter 23
Job wishes to be tried at God's tribunal.
23:1. Then Job answered, and said:
23:2. Now also my words are in bitterness, and the hand of my scourge
is more grievous than my mourning.
23:3. Who will grant me that I might know and find him, and come even
to his throne?
23:4. I would set judgment before him, and would fill my mouth with
23:5. That I might know the words that he would answer me, and
understand what he would say to me.
23:6. I would not that he should contend with me with much strength,
nor overwhelm me with the weight of his greatness.
23:7. Let him propose equity against me, and let my judgment come to
23:8. But if I go to the east, he appeareth not; if to the west, I
shall not understand him.
23:9. If to the left hand, what shall I do?  I shall not take hold on
him:  if I turn myself to the right hand, I shall not see him.
23:10. But he knoweth my way, and has tried me as gold that passeth
through the fire:
23:11. My foot hath followed his steps, I have kept his way, and have
not declined from it.
23:12. I have not departed from the commandments of his lips, and the
words of his mouth I have hid in my bosom.
23:13. For he is alone, and no man can turn away his thought:  and
whatsoever his soul hath desired, that hath he done.
23:14. And when he shall have fulfilled his will in me, many other like
things are also at hand with him.
23:15. And therefore I am troubled at his presence, and when I consider
him I am made pensive with fear.
23:16. God hath softened my heart, and the Almighty hath troubled me.
23:17. For I have not perished because of the darkness that hangs over
me, neither hath the mist covered my face.
Job Chapter 24
God's providence often suffers the wicked to go on a long time in their
sins:  but punisheth them in another life.
24:1. Times are not hid from the Almighty:  but they that know him, know
not his days.
24:2. Some have removed landmarks, have taken away flocks by force, and
24:3. They have driven away the ass of the fatherless, and have taken
away the widow's ox for a pledge.
24:4. They have overturned the way of the poor, and have oppressed
together the meek of the earth.
24:5. Others like wild asses in the desert go forth to their work:  by
watching for a prey they get bread for their children.
24:6. They reap the field that is not their own, and gather the vintage
of his vineyard whom by violence they have oppressed.
24:7. They send men away naked, taking away their clothes who have no
covering in the cold:
24:8. Who are wet, with the showers of the mountains, and having no
covering embrace the stones.
24:9. They have violently robbed the fatherless, and stripped the poor
common people.
24:10. From the naked and them that go without clothing, and from the
hungry they have taken away the ears of corn.
24:11. They have taken their rest at noon among the stores of them, who
after having trodden the winepresses suffer thirst.
24:12. Out of the cities they have made men to groan, and the soul of
the wounded hath cried out, and God doth not suffer it to pass
24:13. They have been rebellious to the light, they have not known his
ways, neither have they returned by his paths.
24:14. The murderer riseth at the very break of day, he killeth the
needy, and the poor man:  but in the night he will be as a thief.
24:15. The eye of the adulterer observeth darkness, saying:  No eye
shall see me:  and he will cover his face.
24:16. He diggeth through houses in the dark, as in the day they had
appointed for themselves, and they have not known the light.
24:17. If the morning suddenly appear, it is to them the shadow of
death:  and they walk in darkness as if it were in light.
24:18. He is light upon the face of the water:  cursed be his portion on
the earth, let him not walk by the way of the vineyards.
24:19. Let him pass from the snow waters to excessive heat, and his sin
even to hell.
24:20. Let mercy forget him:  may worms be his sweetness:  let him be
remembered no more, but be broken in pieces as an unfruitful tree.
24:21. For he hath fed the barren that beareth not, and to the widow he
hath done no good.
24:22. He hath pulled down the strong by his might:  and when he
standeth up, he shall not trust to his life.
24:23. God hath given him place for penance, and he abuseth it unto
pride:  but his eyes are upon his ways.
24:24. They are lifted up for a little while and shall not stand, and
shall be brought down as all things, and shall be taken away, and as
the tops of the ears of corn they shall be broken.
24:25. And if it be not so, who can convince me that I have lied, and
set my words before God?
Job Chapter 25
God's providence often suffers the wicked to go on a long time in their
sins:  but punisheth them in another life.
25:1. Times are not hid from the Almighty:  but they that know him, know
not his days.
25:2. Some have removed landmarks, have taken away flocks by force, and
25:3. They have driven away the ass of the fatherless, and have taken
away the widow's ox for a pledge.
25:4. They have overturned the way of the poor, and have oppressed
together the meek of the earth.
25:5. Others like wild asses in the desert go forth to their work:  by
watching for a prey they get bread for their children.
25:6. They reap the field that is not their own, and gather the vintage
of his vineyard whom by violence they have oppressed.
25:7. They send men away naked, taking away their clothes who have no
covering in the cold:
25:8. Who are wet, with the showers of the mountains, and having no
covering embrace the stones.
25:9. They have violently robbed the fatherless, and stripped the poor
common people.
25:10. From the naked and them that go without clothing, and from the
hungry they have taken away the ears of corn.
25:11. They have taken their rest at noon among the stores of them, who
after having trodden the winepresses suffer thirst.
25:12. Out of the cities they have made men to groan, and the soul of
the wounded hath cried out, and God doth not suffer it to pass
25:13. They have been rebellious to the light, they have not known his
ways, neither have they returned by his paths.
25:14. The murderer riseth at the very break of day, he killeth the
needy, and the poor man:  but in the night he will be as a thief.
25:15. The eye of the adulterer observeth darkness, saying:  No eye
shall see me:  and he will cover his face.
25:16. He diggeth through houses in the dark, as in the day they had
appointed for themselves, and they have not known the light.
25:17. If the morning suddenly appear, it is to them the shadow of
death:  and they walk in darkness as if it were in light.
25:18. He is light upon the face of the water:  cursed be his portion on
the earth, let him not walk by the way of the vineyards.
25:19. Let him pass from the snow waters to excessive heat, and his sin
even to hell.
25:20. Let mercy forget him:  may worms be his sweetness:  let him be
remembered no more, but be broken in pieces as an unfruitful tree.
25:21. For he hath fed the barren that beareth not, and to the widow he
hath done no good.
25:22. He hath pulled down the strong by his might:  and when he
standeth up, he shall not trust to his life.
25:23. God hath given him place for penance, and he abuseth it unto
pride:  but his eyes are upon his ways.
25:24. They are lifted up for a little while and shall not stand, and
shall be brought down as all things, and shall be taken away, and as
the tops of the ears of corn they shall be broken.
25:25. And if it be not so, who can convince me that I have lied, and
set my words before God?
Job Chapter 26
Job declares his sentiments of the wisdom and power of God.
26:1. Then Job answered, and said:
26:2. Whose helper art thou?  is it of him that is weak?  and dost thou
hold up the arm of him that has no strength?
26:3. To whom hast thou given counsel?  perhaps to him that hath no
wisdom, and thou hast shewn thy very great prudence.
26:4. Whom hast thou desired to teach?  was it not him that made life?
26:5. Behold the giants groan under the waters, and they that dwell
26:6. Hell is naked before him, and there is no covering for
destruction.
26:7. He stretched out the north over the empty space, and hangeth the
earth upon nothing.
26:8. He bindeth up the waters in his clouds, so that they break not
out and fall down together.
26:9. He withholdeth the face of his throne, and spreadeth his cloud
26:10. He hath set bounds about the waters, till light and darkness
come to an end.
26:11. The pillars of heaven tremble, and dread at his beck.
26:12. By his power the seas are suddenly gathered together, and his
wisdom has struck the proud one.
26:13. His spirit hath adorned the heavens, and his obstetric hand
brought forth the winding serpent.
His obstetric hand brought forth the winding serpent. . .That is, the
omnipotent power of God:  which brought forth all things created in
time, but conceived in the Divine mind from all eternity.  The winding
serpent, a constellation of fixed stars winding round the north pole,
called Draco.  This appears from the foregoing part of the same verse,
His spirit hath adorned the heavens.
26:14. Lo, these things are said in part of his ways:  and seeing we
have heard scarce a little drop of his word, who shall be able to
behold the thunder of his greatness?
Job Chapter 27
Job persists in asserting his own innocence, and that hypocrites will
be punished in the end.
27:1. Job also added, taking up his parable, and said:
27:2. As God liveth, who hath taken away my judgment, and the Almighty,
who hath brought my soul to bitterness,
27:3. As long as breath remaineth in me, and the spirit of God in my
27:4. My lips shall not speak iniquity, neither shall my tongue
contrive lying.
27:5. God forbid that I should judge you to be just:  till I die I will
not depart from my innocence.
27:6. My justification, which I have begun to hold, I will not forsake:
for my heart doth not reprehend me in all my life.
27:7. Let my enemy be as the ungodly, and my adversary as the wicked
27:8. For what is the hope of the hypocrite if through covetousness he
take by violence, and God deliver not his soul?
27:9. Will God hear his cry, when distress shall come upon him?
27:10. Or can he delight himself in the Almighty, and call upon God at
27:11. I will teach you by the hand of God, what the Almighty hath, and
I will not conceal it.
27:12. Behold you all know it, and why do you speak vain things without
27:13. This is the portion of a wicked man with God, and the
inheritance of the violent, which they shall receive of the Almighty.
27:14. If his sons be multiplied, they shall be for the sword, and his
grandsons shall not be filled with bread.
27:15. They that shall remain of him, shall be buried in death, and his
widows shall not weep.
27:16. If he shall heap together silver as earth, and prepare raiment
27:17. He shall prepare indeed, but the just man shall be clothed with
it:  and the innocent shall divide the silver.
27:18. He hath built his house as a moth, and as a keeper he hath made
27:19. The rich man when he shall sleep shall take away nothing with
him:  he shall open his eyes and find nothing.
27:20. Poverty like water shall take hold on him, a tempest shall
oppress him in the night:
27:21. A burning wind shall take him up, and carry him away, and as a
whirlwind shall snatch him from his place.
27:22. And he shall cast upon him, and shall not spare:  out of his hand
he would willingly flee.
27:23. He shall clasp his hands upon him, and shall hiss at him,
beholding his place.
Job Chapter 28
Man's industry searcheth out many things:  true wisdom is taught by God
28:1. Silver hath beginnings of its veins, and gold hath a place
wherein it is melted.
28:2. Iron is taken out of the earth, and stone melted with heat is
turned into brass.
28:3. He hath set a time for darkness, and the end of all things he
considereth, the stone also that is in the dark and the shadow of
28:4. The flood divideth from the people that are on their journey,
those whom the food of the needy man hath forgotten, and who cannot be
28:5. The land, out of which bread grew in its place, hath been
overturned with fire.
28:6. The stones of it are the place of sapphires, and the clods of it
28:7. The bird hath not known the path, neither hath the eye of the
vulture beheld it.
28:8. The children of the merchants have not trodden it, neither hath
the lioness passed by it.
28:9. He hath stretched forth his hand to the flint, he hath overturned
mountains from the roots.
28:10. In the rocks he hath cut out rivers, and his eye hath seen every
precious thing.
28:11. The depths also of rivers he hath searched, and hidden things he
hath brought forth to light.
28:12. But where is wisdom to be found, and where is the place of
understanding?
28:13. Man knoweth not the price thereof, neither is it found in the
land of them that live in delights.
28:14. The depth saith:  It is not in me:  and the sea saith:  It is not
28:15. The finest gold shall not purchase it, neither shall silver be
weighed in exchange for it.
28:16. It shall not be compared with the dyed colours of India, or with
the most precious stone sardonyx, or the sapphire.
28:17. Gold or crystal cannot equal it, neither shall any vessels of
gold be changed for it.
28:18. High and eminent things shall not be mentioned in comparison of
it:  but wisdom is drawn out of secret places.
28:19. The topaz of Ethiopia shall not be equal to it, neither shall it
be compared to the cleanest dyeing.
28:20. Whence then cometh wisdom?  and where is the place of
understanding?
28:21. It is hid from the eyes of all living, and the fowls of the air
know it not.
28:22. Destruction and death have said:  With our ears we have heard the
fame thereof.
28:23. God understandeth the way of it, and he knoweth the place
28:24. For he beholdeth the ends of the world:  and looketh on all
things that are under heaven.
28:25. Who made a weight for the winds, and weighed the waters by
28:26. When he gave a law for the rain, and a way for the sounding
28:27. Then he saw it, and declared, and prepared, and searched it.
28:28. And he said to man:  Behold the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom:
and to depart from evil, is understanding.
Job Chapter 29
Job relates his former happiness, and the respect that all men shewed
29:1. Job also added, taking up his parable, and said:
29:2. Who will grant me, that I might be according to the months past,
according to the days in which God kept me?
29:3. When his lamp shined over my head, and I walked by his light in
29:4. As I was in the days of my youth, when God was secretly in my
29:5. When the Almighty was with me:  and my servants round about me?
29:6. When I washed my feet with butter, and the rock poured me out
rivers of oil?
29:7. When I went out to the gate of the city, and in the street they
prepared me a chair?
29:8. The young men saw me, and hid themselves:  and the old men rose up
29:9. The princes ceased to speak, and laid the finger on their mouth.
29:10. The rulers held their peace, and their tongue cleaved to their
29:11. The ear that heard me blessed me, and the eye that saw me gave
witness to me:
29:12. Because I had delivered the poor man that cried out; and the
fatherless, that had no helper.
29:13. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I
comforted the heart of the widow.
29:14. I was clad with justice:  and I clothed myself with my judgment,
as with a robe and a diadem.
29:15. I was an eye to the blind, and a foot to the lame.
29:16. I was the father of the poor:  and the cause which I knew not, I
searched out most diligently.
29:17. I broke the jaws of the wicked man, and out of his teeth I took
away the prey.
29:18. And I said:  I shall die in my nest, and as a palm tree shall
multiply my days.
29:19. My root is opened beside the waters, and dew shall continue in
29:20. My glory shall always be renewed, and my bow in my hand shall be
29:21. They that heard me, waited for my sentence, and being attentive
held their peace at my counsel.
29:22. To my words they durst add nothing, and my speech dropped upon
29:23. They waited for me as for rain, and they opened their mouth as
for a latter shower.
29:24. If at any time I laughed on them, they believed not, and the
light of my countenance fell not on earth.
29:25. If I had a mind to go to them, I sat first, and when I sat as a
king, with his army standing about him, yet I was a comforter of them
that mourned.
Job Chapter 30
Job shews the wonderful change of his temporal estate, from welfare to
great calamity.
30:1. But now the younger in time scorn me, whose fathers I would not
have set with the dogs of my flock:
But now the younger in time. . .That is, younger than I am, and as it
were obscure, when I was conspicuous and in magnificence; they now look
30:2. The strength of whose hands was to me as nothing, and they were
thought unworthy of life itself.
30:3. Barren with want and hunger, who gnawed in the wilderness,
disfigured with calamity and misery.
30:4. And they ate grass, and barks of trees, and the root of junipers
was their food.
30:5. Who snatched up these things out of the valleys, and when they
had found any of them, they ran to them with a cry.
30:6. They dwelt in the desert places of torrents, and in caves of
earth, or upon the gravel.
30:7. They pleased themselves among these kind of things, and counted
it delightful to be under the briers.
30:8. The children of foolish and base men, and not appearing at all
upon the earth.
30:9. Now I am turned into their song, and am become their byword.
30:10. They abhor me, and flee far from me, and are not afraid to spit
30:11. For he hath opened his quiver, and hath afflicted me, and hath
put a bridle into my mouth.
30:12. At the right hand of my rising, my calamities forthwith arose:
they have overthrown my feet, and have overwhelmed me with their paths
as with waves.
30:13. They have destroyed my ways, they have lain in wait against me,
and they have prevailed, and there was none to help.
30:14. They have rushed in upon me, as when a wall is broken, and a
gate opened, and have rolled themselves down to my miseries.
30:15. I am brought to nothing:  as a wind thou hast taken away my
desire:  and my prosperity hath passed away like a cloud.
30:16. And now my soul fadeth within myself, and the days of affliction
30:17. In the night my bone is pierced with sorrows:  and they that feed
upon me, do not sleep.
30:18. With the multitude of them my garment is consumed, and they have
girded me about, as with the collar of my coat.
30:19. I am compared to dirt, and am likened to embers and ashes.
30:20. I cry to thee, and thou hearest me not:  I stand up, and thou
dost not regard me.
30:21. Thou art changed to be cruel toward me, and in the hardness of
thy hand thou art against me.
30:22. Thou hast lifted me up, and set me as it were upon the wind, and
thou hast mightily dashed me.
30:23. I know that thou wilt deliver me to death, where a house is
appointed for every one that liveth.
30:24. But yet thou stretchest not forth thy hand to their consumption:
and if they shall fall down thou wilt save.
30:25. I wept heretofore for him that was afflicted, and my soul had
compassion on the poor.
30:26. I expected good things, and evils are come upon me:  I waited for
light, and darkness broke out.
30:27. My inner parts have boiled without any rest, the days of
affliction have prevented me.
30:28. I went mourning without indignation; I rose up, and cried in the
30:29. I was the brother of dragons, and companion of ostriches.
Brother of dragons, etc. . .Imitating these creatures in their
lamentable noise.
30:30. My skin is become black upon me, and my bones are dried up with
30:31. My harp is turned to mourning, and my organ into the voice of
those that weep.
Job Chapter 31
Job, to defend himself from the unjust judgments of his friends, gives
a sincere account of his own virtues.
31:1. I made a covenant with my eyes, that I would not so much as think
upon a virgin.
31:2. For what part should God from above have in me, and what
inheritance the Almighty from on high?
31:3. Is not destruction to the wicked, and aversion to them that work
31:4. Doth not he consider my ways, and number all my steps?
31:5. If I have walked in vanity, and my foot hath made haste to
31:6. Let him weigh me in a just balance, and let God know my
31:7. If my step hath turned out of the way, and if my heart hath
followed my eyes, and if a spot hath cleaved to my hands:
31:8. Then let me sow and let another reap:  and let my offspring be
31:9. If my heart hath been deceived upon a woman, and if I have laid
wait at my friend's door:
31:10. Let my wife be the harlot of another, and let other men lie with
31:11. For this is a heinous crime, and a most grievous iniquity.
31:12. It is a fire that devoureth even to destruction, and rooteth up
all things that spring.
31:13. If I have despised to abide judgment with my manservant, or my
maidservant, when they had any controversy against me:
31:14. For what shall I do when God shall rise to judge?  and when he
shall examine, what shall I answer him?
31:15. Did not he that made me in the womb make him also:  and did not
one and the same form me in the womb?
31:16. If I have denied to the poor what they desired, and have made
the eyes of the widow wait:
31:17. If I have eaten my morsel alone, and the fatherless hath not
eaten thereof:
31:18. (For from my infancy mercy grew up with me:  and it came out with
me from my mother's womb:)
31:19. If I have despised him that was perishing for want of clothing,
and the poor man that had no covering:
31:20. If his sides have not blessed me, and if he were not warmed with
the fleece of my sheep:
31:21. If I have lifted up my hand against the fatherless, even when I
saw myself superior in the gate:
31:22. Let my shoulder fall from its joint, and let my arm with its
bones be broken.
31:23. For I have always feared God as waves swelling over me, and his
weight I was unable to bear.
31:24. If I have thought gold my strength, and have said to fine gold:
My confidence:
31:25. If I have rejoiced over my great riches, and because my hand had
gotten much.
31:26. If I beheld the sun when it shined and the moon going in
If I beheld the sun, etc. . .If I behold the sun and moon with
admiration, knowing them to be created and governed by the power of
God, I call on my adversaries to produce any thing against me, whereby
I could be charged with worshipping the sun or moon.
31:27. And my heart in secret hath rejoiced, and I have kissed my hand
with, my mouth:
31:28. Which is a very great iniquity, and a denial against the most
31:29. If I have been glad at the downfall of him that hated me, and
have rejoiced that evil had found him.
31:30. For I have not given my mouth to sin, by wishing a curse to his
31:31. If the men of my tabernacle have not said:  Who will give us of
his flesh that we may be filled?
31:32. The stranger did not stay without, my door was open to the
31:33. If as a man I have hid my sin, and have concealed my iniquity in
31:34. If I have been afraid at a very great multitude, and the
contempt of kinsmen hath terrified me:  and have not rather held my
peace, and not gone out of the door.
31:35. Who would grant me a hearing, that the Almighty may hear my
desire:  and that he himself that judgeth would write a book,
31:36. That I may carry it on my shoulder, and put it about me as a
31:37. At every step of mine I would pronounce it, and offer it as to a
31:38. If my land cry against me, and with it the furrows thereof
31:39. If I have eaten the fruits thereof without money, and have
afflicted the son of the tillers thereof:
31:40. Let thistles grow up to me instead of wheat, and thorns instead
The words of Job are ended.
Job Chapter 32
Eliu is angry with Job and his friends.  He boasts of himself.
32:1. So these three men ceased to answer Job, because he seemed just
32:2. And Eliu the son of Barachel the Buzite of the kindred of Ram,
was angry and was moved to indignation:  now he was angry against Job,
because he said he was just before God.
32:3. And he was angry with his friends, because they had not found a
reasonable answer, but only had condemned Job.
32:4. So Eliu waited while Job was speaking because they were his
elders that were speaking.
32:5. But when he saw that the three were not able to answer, he was
exceedingly angry.
32:6. Then Eliu the son of Barachel the Buzite answered, and said:  I am
younger in days, and you are more ancient, therefore hanging down my
head, I was afraid to shew you my opinion.
32:7. For I hoped that greater age would speak, and that a multitude of
years would teach wisdom.
32:8. But, as I see, there is a spirit in men, and the inspiration of
the Almighty giveth understanding.
32:9. They that are aged are not the wise men, neither do the ancients
understand judgment.
32:10. Therefore I will speak:  Hearken to me, I also will shew you my
32:11. For I have waited for your words, I have given ear to your
wisdom, as long as you were disputing in words.
32:12. And as long as I thought you said some thing, I considered:  but,
as I see, there is none of you that can convince Job, and answer his
32:13. Lest you should say:  We have found wisdom, God hath cast him
down, not man.
32:14. He hath spoken nothing to me, and I will not answer him
according to your words.
32:15. They were afraid, and answered no more, and they left off
32:16. Therefore because I have waited, and they have not spoken:  they
stood, and answered no more:
32:17. I also will answer my part, and will shew my knowledge.
32:18. For I am full of matter to speak of, and the spirit of my bowels
straiteneth me.
32:19. Behold, my belly is as new wine which wanteth vent, which
bursteth the new vessels.
32:20. I will speak and take breath a little:  I will open my lips, and
will answer.
32:21. I will not accept the person of man, and I will not level God
I will not level God with man. . .Here Eliu considers that Job hath put
himself on a level with God, by the manner he assumed to justify his
own life in speaking to God as if he spoke to an equal:  Eliu expresses
in the following ver. 22 his fear of punishment hereafter for such an
32:22. For I know not how long I shall continue, and whether after a
while my Maker may take me away.
Job Chapter 33
Eliu blames Job for asserting his own innocence.
33:1. Hear therefore, O Job, my speeches, and hearken to all my words.
33:2. Behold now I have opened my mouth, let my tongue speak within my
33:3. My words are from my upright heart, and my lips shall speak a
pure sentence.
33:4. The spirit of God made me, and the breath of the Almighty gave me
33:5. If thou canst, answer me, and stand up against my face.
33:6. Behold God hath made me as well as thee, and of the same clay I
also was formed.
33:7. But yet let not my wonder terrify thee, and let not my eloquence
be burdensome to thee.
33:8. Now thou hast said in my hearing, and I have heard the voice of
33:9. I am clean, and without sin:  I am unspotted, and there is no
iniquity in me.
33:10. Because he hath found complaints against me, therefore he hath
counted me for his enemy.
33:11. He hath put my feet in the stocks, he hath observed all my
33:12. Now this is the thing in which thou art not justified:  I will
answer thee, that God is greater than man.
33:13. Dost thou strive against him, because he hath not answered thee
to all words?
33:14. God speaketh once, and repeateth not the selfsame thing the
second time.
33:15. By a dream in a vision by night, when deep sleep falleth upon
men, and they are sleeping in their beds:
33:16. Then he openeth the ears of men, and teaching instructeth them
in what they are to learn.
33:17. That he may withdraw a man from the things he is doing, and may
deliver him from pride.
33:18. Rescuing his soul from corruption:  and his life from passing to
33:19. He rebuketh also by sorrow in the bed, and he maketh all his
bones to wither.
33:20. Bread becometh abominable to him in his life, and to his soul
the meat which before he desired.
33:21. His flesh shall be consumed away, and his bones that were
covered shall be made bare.
33:22. His soul hath drawn near to corruption, and his life to the
33:23. If there shall be an angel speaking for him, one among
thousands, to declare man's uprightness,
33:24. He shall have mercy on him, and shall say:  Deliver him, that he
may not go down to corruption:  I have found wherein I may be merciful
33:25. His flesh is consumed with punishments, let him return to the
days of his youth.
33:26. He shall pray to God, and he will be gracious to him:  and he
shall see his face with joy, and he will render to man his justice.
33:27. He shall look upon men, and shall say:  I have sinned, and indeed
I have offended, and I have not received what I have deserved.
33:28. He hath delivered his soul from going into destruction, that it
may live and see the light.
33:29. Behold, all these things God worketh three times within every
33:30. That he may withdraw their souls from corruption, and enlighten
them with the light of the living.
33:31. Attend, Job, and hearken to me, and hold thy peace, whilst I
33:32. But if thou hast any thing to say, answer me, speak:  for I would
have thee to appear just.
33:33. And if thou have not, hear me:  hold thy peace, and I will teach
thee wisdom.
Job Chapter 34
Eliu charges Job with blasphemy:  and sets forth the power and justice
34:1. And Eliu continued his discourse, and said:
34:2. Hear ye, wise men, my words, and ye learned, hearken to me:
34:3. For the ear trieth words, and the mouth discerneth meats by the
34:4. Let us choose to us judgment, and let us see among ourselves what
is the best.
34:5. For Job hath said:  I am just, and God hath overthrown my
34:6. For in judging me there is a lie:  my arrow is violent without any
34:7. What man is there like Job, who drinketh up scorning like water?
34:8. Who goeth in company with them that work iniquity, and walketh
with wicked men?
34:9. For he hath said:  Man shall not please God, although he run with
34:10. Therefore, ye men of understanding, hear me:  far from God be
wickedness, and iniquity from the Almighty.
34:11. For he will render to a man his work, and according to the ways
of every one he will reward them.
34:12. For in very deed God will not condemn without cause, neither
will the Almighty pervert judgment.
34:13. What other hath he appointed over the earth?  or whom hath he set
over the world which he made?
34:14. If he turn his heart to him, he shall draw his spirit and breath
unto himself.
34:15. All flesh shall perish together, and man shall return into
34:16. If then thou hast understanding, hear what is said, and hearken
to the voice of my words.
34:17. Can he be healed that loveth not judgment?  and how dost thou so
far condemn him that is just?
34:18. Who saith to the king:  Thou art an apostate:  who calleth rulers
34:19. Who accepteth not the persons of princes:  nor hath regarded the
tyrant, when he contended against the poor man:  for all are the work of
34:20. They shall suddenly die, and the people shall be troubled at
midnight, and they shall pass, and take away the violent without hand.
34:21. For his eyes are upon the ways of men, and he considereth all
their steps.
34:22. There is no darkness, and there is no shadow of death, where
they may be hid who work iniquity.
34:23. For it is no longer in the power of man to enter into judgment
34:24. He shall break in pieces many and innumerable, and shall make
others to stand in their stead.
34:25. For he knoweth their works:  and therefore he shall bring night
on them, and they shall be destroyed.
34:26. He hath struck them, as being wicked, in open sight.
34:27. Who as it were on purpose have revolted from him, and would not
understand all his ways:
34:28. So that they caused the cry of the needy to come to him, and he
heard the voice of the poor.
34:29. For when he granteth peace, who is there that can condemn?  When
he hideth his countenance, who is there that can behold him, whether it
regard nations, or all men?
34:30. Who maketh a man that is a hypocrite to reign for the sins of
34:31. Seeing then I have spoken of God, I will not hinder thee in thy
34:32. If I have erred, teach thou me:  if I have spoken iniquity, I
will add no more.
34:33. Doth God require it of thee, because it hath displeased thee?
for thou begannest to speak, and not I:  but if thou know any thing
better, speak.
34:34. Let men of understanding speak to me, and let a wise man hearken
34:35. But Job hath spoken foolishly, and his words sound not
34:36. My father, let Job be tried even to the end:  cease not from the
man of iniquity.
34:37. Because he addeth blasphemy upon his sins, let him be tied fast
in the mean time amongst us:  and then let him provoke God to judgment
with his speeches.
Job Chapter 35
Eliu declares that the good or evil done by man cannot reach God.
35:1. Moreover Eliu spoke these words:
35:2. Doth thy thought seem right to thee, that thou shouldst say:  I am
more just than God?
35:3. For thou saidst:  That which is right doth not please thee:  or
what will it profit thee if I sin?
35:4. Therefore I will answer thy words, and thy friends with thee.
35:5. Look up to heaven and see, and behold the sky, that it is higher
35:6. If thou sin, what shalt thou hurt him?  and if thy iniquities be
multiplied, what shalt thou do against him?
35:7. And if thou do justly, what shalt thou give him, or what shall he
receive of thy hand?
35:8. Thy wickedness may hurt a man that is like thee:  and thy justice
may help the son of man.
35:9. By reason of the multitude of oppressors they shall cry out:  and
shall wail for the violence of the arm of tyrants.
35:10. And he hath not said:  Where is God, who made me, who hath given
songs in the night?
35:11. Who teacheth us more than the beasts of the earth, and
instructeth us more than the fowls of the air.
35:12. There shall they cry, and he will not hear, because of the pride
of evil men.
35:13. God therefore will not hear in vain, and the Almighty will look
into the causes of every one.
35:14. Yea, when thou shalt say:  He considereth not:  be judged before
him, and expect him.
35:15. For he doth not now bring on his fury, neither doth he revenge
wickedness exceedingly.
35:16. Therefore Job openeth his mouth in vain, and multiplieth words
without knowledge.
Job Chapter 36
Eliu proceeds in setting forth the justice and power of God.
36:1. Eliu also proceeded, and said:
36:2. Suffer me a little, and I will shew thee:  for I have yet somewhat
to speak in God's behalf.
36:3. I will repeat my knowledge from the beginning, and I will prove
my Maker just.
36:4. For indeed my words are without a lie, and perfect knowledge
shall be proved to thee.
36:5. God doth not cast away the mighty, whereas he himself also is
36:6. But he saveth not the wicked, and he giveth judgment to the poor.
36:7. He will not take away his eyes from the just, and he placeth
kings on the throne for ever, and they are exalted.
36:8. And if they shall be in chains, and be bound with the cords of
36:9. He shall shew them their works, and their wicked deeds, because
they have been violent.
36:10. He also shall open their ear, to correct them:  and shall speak,
that they may return from iniquity.
36:11. If they shall hear and observe, they shall accomplish their days
in good, and their years in glory.
36:12. But if they hear not, they shall pass by the sword, and shall be
consumed in folly.
36:13. Dissemblers and crafty men prove the wrath of God, neither shall
they cry when they are bound.
36:14. Their soul shall die in a storm, and their life among the
36:15. He shall deliver the poor out of his distress, and shall open
his ear in affliction.
36:16. Therefore he shall set thee at large out of the narrow mouth,
and which hath no foundation under it:  and the rest of thy table shall
be full of fatness.
Out of the narrow mouth. . .That is, out of hell, whose entrance is
narrow, and its depth bottomless; but figuratively meant here, that is,
from his miseries and calamity to be restored to his former state of
36:17. Thy cause hath been judged as that of the wicked, cause and
judgment thou shalt recover.
36:18. Therefore let not anger overcome thee to oppress any man:
neither let multitude of gifts turn thee aside.
36:19. Lay down thy greatness without tribulation, and all the mighty
of strength.
36:20. Prolong not the night that people may come up for them.
36:21. Beware thou turn not aside to iniquity:  for this thou hast begun
to follow after misery.
For this thou hast begun to follow after misery. . .Eliu charges Job,
that notwithstanding his misery, he does not fear God as he ought:  but
in his judgment, falls into iniquity.
36:22. Behold, God is high in his strength, and none is like him among
the lawgivers.
36:23. Who can search out his ways?  or who can say to him:  Thou hast
wrought iniquity?
36:24. Remember that thou knowest not his work, concerning which men
36:25. All men see him, every one beholdeth afar off.
36:26. Behold, God is great, exceeding our knowledge:  the number of his
years is inestimable.
36:27. He lifteth up the drops of rain, and poureth out showers like
36:28. Which flow from the clouds that cover all above.
36:29. If he will spread out clouds as his tent,
36:30. And lighten with his light from above, he shall cover also the
ends of the sea.
36:31. For by these he judgeth people, and giveth food to many mortals.
36:32. In his hands he hideth the light, and commandeth it to come
36:33. He sheweth his friend concerning it, that it is his possession,
and that he may come up to it.
Job Chapter 37
Eliu goes on in his discourse, shewing God's wisdom and power, by his
wonderful works.
37:1. At this my heart trembleth, and is moved out of its place.
37:2. Hear ye attentively the terror of his voice, and the sound that
cometh out of his mouth.
37:3. He beholdeth under all the heavens, and his light is upon the
ends of the earth.
37:4. After it a noise shall roar, he shall thunder with the voice of
his majesty, and shall not be found out, when his voice shall be heard.
37:5. God shall thunder wonderfully with his voice, he that doth great
and unsearchable things.
37:6. He commandeth the snow to go down upon the earth, and the winter
rain, and the shower of his strength.
37:7. He sealeth up the hand of all men, that every one may know his
He sealeth up, etc. . .When he sends those showers of his strength, that
is, those storms of rain, he seals up, that is, he shuts up the hands
of men from their usual works abroad, and confines them within doors,
to consider his works; or to forecast their works, that is, what they
themselves are to do.
37:8. Then the beast shall go into his covert, and shall abide in his
37:9. Out of the inner parts shall a tempest come, and cold out of the
37:10. When God bloweth there cometh frost, and again the waters are
poured out abundantly.
37:11. Corn desireth clouds, and the clouds spread their light:
37:12. Which go round about, whithersoever the will of him that
governeth them shall lead them, to whatsoever he shall command them
upon the face of the whole earth:
37:13. Whether in one tribe, or in his own land, or in what place
soever of his mercy he shall command them to be found.
37:14. Hearken to these things, Job:  Stand, and consider the wondrous
works of God.
37:15. Dost thou know when God commanded the rains, to shew his light
of his clouds?
37:16. Knowest thou the great paths of the clouds, and the perfect
37:17. Are not thy garments hot, when the south wind blows upon the
37:18. Thou perhaps hast made the heavens with him, which are most
strong, as if they were of molten brass.
37:19. Shew us what we may say to him:  or we are wrapped up in
37:20. Who shall tell him the things I speak?  even if a man shall
speak, he shall be swallowed up.
He shall be swallowed up. . .All that man can say when he speaks of God,
is so little and inconsiderable in comparison with the subject, that
man is lost, and as it were swallowed up in so immense an ocean.
37:21. But now they see not the light:  the air on a sudden shall be
thickened into clouds, and the wind shall pass and drive them away.
37:22. Cold cometh out of the north, and to God praise with fear.
37:23. We cannot find him worthily:  he is great in strength, and in
judgment, and in justice, and he is ineffable.
37:24. Therefore men shall fear him, and all that seem to themselves to
be wise, shall not dare to behold him.
Job Chapter 38
God interposes and shews from the things he hath made, that man cannot
comprehend his power and wisdom.
38:1. Then the Lord answered Job out of a whirlwind, and said:
The Lord.  That is, an angel speaking in the name of the Lord.
38:2. Who is this that wrappeth up sentences in unskilful words?
38:3. Gird up thy loins like a man:  I will ask thee, and answer thou
38:4. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?  tell me
if thou hast understanding.
38:5. Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest or who hath
stretched the line upon it?
38:6. Upon what are its bases grounded?  or who laid the corner stone
38:7. When the morning stars praised me together, and all the sons of
God made a joyful melody?
38:8. Who shut up the sea with doors, when it broke forth as issuing
out of the womb:
38:9. When I made a cloud the garment thereof, and wrapped it in a mist
as in swaddling bands?
38:10. I set my bounds around it, and made it bars and doors:
38:11. And I said:  Hitherto thou shalt come, and shalt go no further,
and here thou shalt break thy swelling waves.
38:12. Didst thou since thy birth command the morning, and shew the
dawning of the day its place?
38:13. And didst thou hold the extremities of the earth shaking them,
and hast thou shaken the ungodly out of it?
38:14. The seal shall be restored as clay, and shall stand as a
38:15. From the wicked their light shall be taken away, and the high
arm shall be broken.
38:16. Hast thou entered into the depths of the sea, and walked in the
lowest parts of the deep?
38:17. Have the gates of death been opened to thee, and hast thou seen
the darksome doors?
38:18. Hast thou considered the breadth of the earth?  tell me, if thou
knowest all things?
38:19. Where is the way where light dwelleth, and where is the place of
38:20. That thou mayst bring every thing to its own bounds, and
understand the paths of the house thereof.
38:21. Didst thou know then that thou shouldst be born?  and didst thou
know the number of thy days?
38:22. Hast thou entered into the storehouses of the snow, or hast thou
beheld the treasures of the hail:
38:23. Which I have prepared for the time of the enemy, against the day
of battle and war?
38:24. By what way is the light spread, and heat divided upon the
38:25. Who gave a course to violent showers, or a way for noisy
38:26. That it should rain on the earth without man in the wilderness,
where no mortal dwelleth:
38:27. That it should fill the desert and desolate land, and should
bring forth green grass?
38:28. Who is the father of rain?  or who begot the drops of dew?
38:29. Out of whose womb came the ice?  and the frost from heaven who
hath gendered it?
38:30. The waters are hardened like a stone, and the surface of the
deep is congealed.
38:31. Shalt thou be able to join together the shining stars the
Pleiades, or canst thou stop the turning about of Arcturus?
Pleiades. . .Hebrew, Cimah.  A cluster of seven stars in the
constellation Taurus or the Bull.  Arcturus, a bright star in the
constellation Bootes.  The Hebrew name Cesil, is variously interpreted;
by some, Orion; by others, the Great Bear is understood.
38:32. Canst thou bring forth the day star in its time, and make the
evening star to rise upon the children of the earth?
38:33. Dost thou know the order of heaven, and canst thou set down the
reason thereof on the earth?
38:34. Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that an abundance of
waters may cover thee?
38:35. Canst thou send lightnings, and will they go, and will they
return and say to thee:  Here we are?
38:36. Who hath put wisdom in the heart of man?  or who gave the cock
understanding?
Understanding. . .That instinct by which he distinguishes the times of
crowing in the night.
38:37. Who can declare the order of the heavens, or who can make the
harmony of heaven to sleep?
38:38. When was the dust poured on the earth, and the clods fastened
38:39. Wilt thou take the prey for the lioness, and satisfy the
appetite of her whelps,
38:40. When they couch in the dens and lie in wait in holes?
38:41. Who provideth food for the raven, when her young ones cry to
God, wandering about, because they have no meat?
Job Chapter 39
The wonders of the power and providence of God in many of his creatures.
39:1. Knowest thou the time when the wild goats bring forth among the
rocks, or hast thou observed the hinds when they fawn?
39:2. Hast thou numbered the months of their conceiving, or knowest
thou the time when they bring forth?
39:3. They bow themselves to bring forth young, and they cast them, and
send forth roarings.
39:4. Their young are weaned and go to feed:  they go forth, and return
not to them.
39:5. Who hath sent out the wild ass free, and who hath loosed his
39:6. To whom I have given a house in the wilderness, and his dwellings
in the barren land.
39:7. He scorneth the multitude of the city, he heareth not the cry of
39:8. He looketh round about the mountains of his pasture, and seeketh
for every green thing,
39:9. Shall the rhinoceros be willing to serve thee, or will he stay at
39:10. Canst thou bind the rhinoceros with thy thong to plough, or will
he break the clods of the valleys after thee?
39:11. Wilt thou have confidence in his great strength, and leave thy
labours to him?
39:12. Wilt thou trust him that he will render thee the seed, and
gather it into thy barnfloor?
39:13. The wing of the ostrich is like the wings of the heron, and of
39:14. When she leaveth her eggs on the earth, thou perhaps wilt warm
them in the dust.
39:15. She forgetteth that the foot may tread upon them, or that the
beasts of the field may break them.
39:16. She is hardened against her young ones, as though they were not
hers, she hath laboured in vain, no fear constraining her.
39:17. For God hath deprived her of wisdom, neither hath he given her
understanding.
39:18. When time shall be, she setteth up her wings on high:  she
scorneth the horse and his rider.
39:19. Wilt thou give strength to the horse or clothe his neck with
39:20. Wilt thou lift him up like the locusts?  the glory of his
nostrils is terror.
39:21. He breaketh up the earth with his hoof, he pranceth boldly, he
goeth forward to meet armed men.
39:22. He despiseth fear, he turneth not his back to the sword.
39:23. Above him shall the quiver rattle, the spear and shield shall
39:24. Chasing and raging he swalloweth the ground, neither doth he
make account when the noise of the trumpet soundeth.
39:25. When he heareth the trumpet he saith:  Ha, ha:  he smelleth the
battle afar off, the encouraging of the captains, and the shouting of
39:26. Doth the hawk wax feathered by thy wisdom, spreading her wings
to the south?
39:27. Will the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest in
high places?
39:28. She abideth among the rocks, and dwelleth among cragged flints,
and stony hills, where there is no access.
39:29. From thence she looketh for the prey, and her eyes behold afar
39:30. Her young ones shall suck up blood:  and wheresoever the carcass
shall be, she is immediately there.
39:31. And the Lord went on, and said to Job:
39:32. Shall he that contendeth with God be so easily silenced?  surely
he that reproveth God, ought to answer him.
39:33. Then Job answered the Lord, and said:
39:34. What can I answer, who hath spoken inconsiderately?  I will lay
my hand upon my mouth.
Spoken inconsiderately. . .If we discuss all Job's words (saith St.
Gregory), we shall find nothing impiously spoken; as may be gathered
from the words of the Lord himself, chap. 42, ver. 7, 8; but what was
reprehensible in him, was the manner of expressing himself at times,
speaking too much of his own affliction, and too little of God's
goodness towards him, which here he acknowledges as inconsiderate.
39:35. One thing I have spoken, which I wish I had not said:  and
another, to which I will add no more.
Job Chapter 40
Of the power of God in the behemoth and the leviathan.
40:1. And the Lord answering Job out of the whirlwind, said:
40:2. Gird up thy loins like a man:  I will ask thee, and do thou tell
40:3. Wilt thou make void my judgment:  and condemn me, that thou mayst
be justified?
40:4. And hast thou an arm like God, and canst thou thunder with a
voice like him?
40:5. Clothe thyself with beauty, and set thyself up on high, and be
glorious, and put on goodly garments.
40:6. Scatter the proud in thy indignation, and behold every arrogant
man, and humble him.
40:7. Look on all that are proud, and confound them, and crush the
wicked in their place,
40:8. Hide them in the dust together, and plunge their faces into the
40:9. Then I will confess that thy right hand is able to save thee.
40:10. Behold behemoth whom I made with thee, he eateth grass like an
Behemoth. . .In Hebrew, behema, which signifies in general an animal;
but many authors explain, that here it is put for the elephant.
40:11. His strength is in his loins, and his force in the navel of his
40:12. He setteth up his tail like a cedar, the sinews of his testicles
are wrapped together.
40:13. His bones are like pipes of brass, his gristle like plates of
40:14. He is the beginning of the ways of God, who made him, he will
apply his sword.
He will apply his sword. . .This text is variously explained:  some
explain the sword, the horn given to the animal for his defence:
others, the power that God hath given to the animal for his defence:
others, the power that God hath given to man to slay him,
notwithstanding his great size and strength.
40:15. To him the mountains bring forth grass:  there all the beasts of
the field shall play.
40:16. He sleepeth under the shadow, in the covert of the reed, and in
moist places.
40:17. The shades cover his shadow, the willows of the brook shall
compass him about.
40:18. Behold, he will drink up a river, and not wonder:  and he
trusteth that the Jordan may run into his mouth.
40:19. In his eyes as with a hook he shall take him, and bore through
his nostrils with stakes.
40:20. Canst thou draw out the leviathan with a hook, or canst thou tie
his tongue with a cord?
Leviathan. . .The whale or some sea monster.
40:21. Canst thou put a ring in his nose, or bore through his jaw with
40:22. Will he make many supplications to thee, or speak soft words to
40:23. Will he make a covenant with thee, and wilt thou take him to be
a servant for ever,
40:24. Shalt thou play with him as with a bird, or tie him up for thy
40:25. Shall friends cut him in pieces, shall merchants divide him?
40:26. Wilt thou fill nets with his skin, and the cabins of fishes with
40:27. Lay thy hand upon him:  remember the battle, and speak no more.
40:28. Behold his hope shall fail him, and in the sight of all he shall
be cast down.
Job Chapter 41
A further description of the leviathan.
41:1. I will not stir him up, like one that is cruel, for who can
resist my countenance?
41:2. Who hath given me before that I should repay him?  All things that
are under heaven are mine.
41:3. I will not spare him, nor his mighty words, and framed to make
supplication.
41:4. Who can discover the face of his garment?  or who can go into the
midst of his mouth?
41:5. Who can open the doors of his face?  his teeth are terrible round
41:6. His body is like molten shields, shut close up with scales
pressing upon one another.
41:7. One is joined to another, and not so much as any air can come
between them:
41:8. They stick one to another and they hold one another fast, and
shall not be separated.
41:9. His sneezing is like the shining of fire, and his eyes like the
eyelids of the morning.
41:10. Out of his mouth go forth lamps, like torches of lighted fire.
41:11. Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, like that of a pot heated and
41:12. His breath kindleth coals, and a flame cometh forth out of his
41:13. In his neck strength shall dwell, and want goeth before his
41:14. The members of his flesh cleave one to another:  he shall send
lightnings against him, and they shall not be carried to another place.
41:15. His heart shall be as hard as a stone, and as firm as a smith's
41:16. When he shall raise him up, the angels shall fear, and being
affrighted shall purify themselves.
Angels. . .Elim, Hebrew:  which signifies here, the mighty, the most
valiant, shall fear this monstrous fish, and in their fear shall seek
to be purified.
41:17. When a sword shall lay at him, it shall not be able to hold, nor
a spear, nor a breastplate.
41:18. For he shall esteem iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.
41:19. The archer shall not put him to flight, the stones of the sling
are to him like stubble.
41:20. As stubble will he esteem the hammer, and he will laugh him to
scorn who shaketh the spear.
41:21. The beams of the sun shall be under him, and he shall strew gold
under him like mire.
Under him. . .He shall not value the beams of the sun; and gold to him
shall be like mire.
41:22. He shall make the deep sea to boil like a pot, and shall make it
as when ointments boil.
41:23. A path shall shine after him, he shall esteem the deep as
growing old.
The deep as growing old. . .Growing hoary, as it were with the froth
which he leaves behind him.
41:24. There is no power upon earth that can be compared with him who
was made to fear no one,
41:25. He beholdeth every high thing, he is king over all the children
He is king, etc. . .He is superior in strength to all that are great and
strong amongst living creatures:  mystically it is understood of the
devil, who is king over all the proud.
Job Chapter 42
Job submits himself.  God pronounces in his favour.  Job offers sacrifice
for his friends.  He is blessed with riches and children, and dies
42:1. Then Job answered the Lord, and said:
42:2. I know that thou canst do all things, and no thought is hid from
42:3. Who is this that hideth counsel without knowledge?  Therefore I
have spoken unwisely, and things that above measure exceeded my
42:4. Hear, and I will speak:  I will ask thee, and do thou tell me.
42:5. With the hearing of the ear, I have heard thee, but now my eye
42:6. Therefore I reprehend myself, and do penance in dust and ashes.
42:7. And after the Lord had spoken these words to Job, he said to
Eliphaz the Themanite:  My wrath is kindled against thee, and against
thy two friends, because you have not spoken the thing that is right
before me, as my servant Job hath.
42:8. Take unto you therefore seven oxen and seven rams, and go to my
servant Job, and offer for yourselves a holocaust, and my servant Job
shall pray for you:  his face I will accept, that folly be not imputed
to you:  for you have not spoken right things before me, as my servant
42:9. So Eliphaz the Themanite, and Baldad the Suhite, and Sophar the
Naamathite went, and did as the Lord had spoken to them, and the Lord
accepted the face of Job.
42:10. The Lord also was turned at the penance of Job, when he prayed
for his friends.  And the Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before.
42:11. And all his brethren came to him, and all his sisters, and all
that knew him before, and they ate bread with him in his house:  and
bemoaned him, and comforted him upon all the evil that God had brought
upon him.  And every man gave him one ewe, and one earring of gold.
42:12. And the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his
beginning.  And he had fourteen thousand sheep, and six thousand camels,
and a thousand yoke of oxen, and a thousand she asses.
42:13. And he had seven sons, and three daughters.
42:14. And he called the name of one Dies, and the name of the second
Cassia, and the name of the third Cornustibii.
42:15. And there were not found in all the earth women so beautiful as
the daughters of Job:  and their father gave them inheritance among
their brethren.
42:16. And Job lived after these things, a hundred and forty years, and
he saw his children, and his children's children, unto the fourth
generation, and he died an old man, and full of days.
THE BOOK OF PSALMS
The psalms are called by the Hebrews TEHILLIM, that is, Hymns of
Praise.  The author, of a great part of them at least, was king David:
but many are of opinion that some of them were made by Asaph, and
others whose names are prefixed in the titles.
Psalms Chapter 1
The happiness of the just and the evil state of the wicked.
1:1. Blessed is the man who hath not walked in the counsel of the
ungodly, nor stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the chair of
1:2. But his will is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he shall
meditate day and night.
1:3. And he shall be like a tree which is planted near the running
waters, which shall bring forth its fruit, in due season.  And his leaf
shall not fall off:  and all whatsoever he shall do shall prosper.
1:4. Not so the wicked, not so:  but like the dust, which the wind
driveth from the face of the earth.
1:5. Therefore the wicked shall not rise again in judgment:  nor sinners
in the council of the just.
1:6. For the Lord knoweth the way of the just:  and the way of the
wicked shall perish.
Psalms Chapter 2
Quare fremuerunt.
The vain efforts of persecutors against Christ and his church.
2:1. Why have the Gentiles raged, and the people devised vain things?
2:2. The kings of the earth stood up, and the princes met together,
against the Lord, and against his Christ.
2:3. Let us break their bonds asunder:  and let us cast away their yoke
2:4. He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh at them:  and the Lord shall
deride them.
2:5. Then shall he speak to them in his anger, and trouble them in his
2:6. But I am appointed king by him over Sion, his holy mountain,
preaching his commandment.
2:7. The Lord hath said to me:  Thou art my son, this day have I
begotten thee.
2:8. Ask of me, and I will give thee the Gentiles for thy inheritance,
and the utmost parts of the earth for thy possession.
2:9. Thou shalt rule them with a rod of iron, and shalt break them in
pieces like a potter's vessel.
2:10. And now, O ye kings, understand:  receive instruction, you that
judge the earth.
2:11. Serve ye the Lord with fear:  and rejoice unto him with trembling.
2:12. Embrace discipline, lest at any time the Lord be angry, and you
perish from the just way.
2:13. When his wrath shall be kindled in a short time, blessed are all
they that trust in him.
Psalms Chapter 3
Domine, quid multiplicati.
The prophet's danger and delivery from his son Absalom:  mystically, the
passion and resurrection of Christ.
3:1. The psalm of David when he fled from the face of his son Absalom.
3:2 Why, O Lord, are they multipied that affict me? many are they who 
rise up against me.
3:3 Many say to my soul: There is no salvation for him in his God.
3:4. But thou, O Lord, art my protector, my glory, and the lifter up of
3:5. I have cried to the Lord with my voice:  and he hath heard me from
his holy hill.
3:6. I have slept and have taken my rest:  and I have risen up, because
the Lord hath protected me.
3:7. I will not fear thousands of the people surrounding me:  arise, O
Lord; save me, O my God.
3:8. For thou hast struck all them who are my adversaries without
cause:  thou hast broken the teeth of sinners.
3:9. Salvation is of the Lord:  and thy blessing is upon thy people.
Psalms Chapter 4
Cum invocarem.
The prophet teacheth us to flee to God in tribulation, with confidence
4:1. Unto the end, in verses.  A psalm for David.
Unto the end. . .Or, as St. Jerome renders it, victori, to him that
overcometh:  which some understand of the chief musician; to whom they
suppose the psalms, which bear that title, were given to be sung:  we
rather understand the psalms thus inscribed to refer to Christ, who is
the end of the law, and the great conqueror of death and hell, and to
the New Testament.--Ibid.  In verses, in carminibus. . .In the Hebrew, it
is neghinoth, supposed by some to be a musical instrument, with which
this psalm was to be sung.--Ibid.  For David, or to David. . .That is,
inspired to David himself, or to be sung.
4:2. When I called upon him, the God of my justice heard me:  when I was
in distress, thou hast enlarged me.  Have mercy on me:  and hear my
4:3. O ye sons of men, how long will you be dull of heart?  why do you
love vanity, and seek after lying?
4:4. Know ye also that the Lord hath made his holy one wonderful:  the
Lord will hear me when I shall cry unto him.
4:5. Be ye angry, and sin not:  the things you say in your hearts, be
sorry for them upon your beds.
4:6. Offer up the sacrifice of justice, and trust in the Lord:  many
say, Who sheweth us good things?
4:7. The light of thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us:  thou hast
given gladness in my heart.
4:8. By the fruit of their corn, their wine, and oil, they rest:
4:9. In peace in the self same I will sleep, and I will rest:
4:10. For thou, O Lord, singularly hast settled me in hope.
Psalms Chapter 5
Verba mea auribul.
A prayer to God against the iniquities of men.
5:1. Unto the end, for her that obtaineth the inheritance.  A psalm for
For her that obtaineth the inheritance. . .That is, for the church of
5:2. Give ear, O Lord, to my words, understand my cry.
5:3. Hearken to the voice of my prayer, O my King and my God.
5:4. For to thee will I pray:  O Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear my
5:5. In the morning I will stand before thee, and I will see:  because
thou art not a God that willest iniquity.
5:6. Neither shall the wicked dwell near thee:  nor shall the unjust
abide before thy eyes.
5:7. Thou hatest all the workers of iniquity:  thou wilt destroy all
that speak a lie.  The bloody and the deceitful man the Lord will abhor.
5:8. But as for me in the multitude of thy mercy, I will come into thy
house; I will worship towards thy holy temple, in thy fear.
5:9. Conduct me, O Lord, in thy justice:  because of my enemies, direct
my way in thy sight.
5:10. For there is no truth in their mouth:  their heart is vain.
5:11. Their throat is an open sepulchre:  they dealt deceitfully with
their tongues:  judge them, O God.  Let them fall from their devices:
according to the multitude of their wickednesses cast them out:  for
they have provoked thee, O Lord.
5:12. But let all them be glad that hope in thee:  they shall rejoice
for ever, and thou shalt dwell in them.  And all they that love thy name
shall glory in thee.
5:13. For thou wilt bless the just.  O Lord, thou hast crowned us, as
with a shield of thy good will.
Psalms Chapter 6
Domine, ne in furore.
A prayer of a penitent sinner, under the scourge of God.  The first
penitential psalm.
6:1. Unto the end, in verses, a psalm for David, for the octave.
For the octave. . .That is, to be sung on an instrument of eight
strings.  St. Augustine understands it mystically, of the last
resurrection, and the world to come; which is, as it were, the octave,
or eighth day, after the seven days of this mortal life:  and for this
octave, sinners must dispose themselves, like David, by bewailing their
sins, whilst they are here upon earth.
6:2. O Lord, rebuke me not in thy indignation, nor chastise me in thy
6:3. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak:  heal me, O Lord, for my
bones are troubled.
6:4. And my soul is troubled exceedingly:  but thou, O Lord, how long?
6:5. Turn to me, O Lord, and deliver my soul:  O save me for thy mercy's
6:6. For there is no one in death, that is mindful of thee:  and who
shall confess to thee in hell?
6:7. I have laboured in my groanings, every night I will wash my bed:  I
will water my couch with my tears.
6:8. My eye is troubled through indignation:  I have grown old amongst
all my enemies.
6:9. Depart from em, all ye workers of iniquity:  for the Lord hath
heard the voice of my weeping.
6:10. The Lord hath heard my supplication:  the Lord hath received my
6:11. Let all my enemies be ashamed, and be very much troubled:  let
them be turned back, and be ashamed very speedily.
Psalms Chapter 7
Domine, Deus meus.
David, trusting in the justice of his cause, prayeth for God's help
against his enemies.
7:1. The psalm of David, which he sung to the Lord, for the words of
Chusi, the son of Jemini.
7:2. O Lord, my God, in thee have I put my trust; same me from all them
that persecute me, and deliver me.
7:3. Lest at any time he seize upon my soul like a lion, while there is
no one to redeem me, nor to save.
7:4. O Lord, my God, if I have done this thing, if there be iniquity in
7:5. If I have rendered to them that repaid me evils, let me deservedly
fall empty before my enemies.
7:6. Let the enemy pursue my soul, and take it, and tread down my life,
on the earth, and bring down my glory to the dust.
7:7. Rise up, O Lord, in thy anger:  and be thou exalted in the borders
of my enemies.  And arise, O Lord, my God, in the precept which thou
hast commanded:
7:8. And a congregation of people shall surround thee.  And for their
sakes return thou on high.
7:9. The Lord judgeth the people.  Judge me, O Lord, according to my
justice, and according to my innocence in me.
7:10. The wickedness of sinners shall be brought to nought; and thou
shalt direct the just:  the searcher of hearts and reins is God.  Just
7:11. Is my help from the Lord; who saveth the upright of heart.
7:12. God is a just judge, strong and patient:  is he angry every day?
7:13. Except you will be converted, he will brandish his sword; he hath
bent his bow, and made it ready.
7:14. And in it he hath prepared to instruments of death, he hath made
ready his arrows for them that burn.
For them that burn. . .That is, against the persecutors of his saints.
7:15. Behold he hath been in labour with injustice:  he hath conceived
sorrow, and brought forth iniquity.
7:16. He hath opened a pit and dug it:  and he is fallen into the hole
7:17. His sorrow shall be turned on his own head:  and his iniquity
shall come down upon his crown.
7:18. I will give glory to the Lord according to his justice:  and will
sing to the name of the Lord the most high.
Psalms Chapter 8
Domine, Dominus noster.
God is wonderful in his works; especially in mankind, singularly
exalted by the incarnation of Christ.
8:1. Unto the end, for the presses:  a psalm for David.
The presses. . .In Hebrew, Gittith, supposed to be a musical instrument.
8:2. O Lord, our Lord, how admirable is thy name in the whole earth!
For thy magnificence is elevated above the heavens.
8:3. Out of the mouth of infants and of sucklings thou hast perfected
praise, because of thy enemies, that thou mayst destroy the enemy and
the avenger.
8:4. For I will behold thy heavens, the works of thy fingers:  the moon
and the stars which thou hast founded.
8:5. What is man, that thou art mindful of him?  or the son of man, that
thou visitest him?
8:6. Thou hast made him a little less than the angels, thou hast
crowned him with glory and honour:
8:7. And hast set him over the works of thy hands.
8:8. Thou hast subjected all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen:
moreover, the beasts also of the fields.
8:9. The birds of the air, and the fishes of the sea, that pass through
the paths of the sea.
8:10. O Lord, our Lord, how admirable is thy name in the whole earth!
Psalms Chapter 9
Confitebor tibi, Domine.  The church praiseth God for his protection
against her enemies.
9:1. Unto the end, for the hidden things of the Son.  A psalm for David.
The hidden things of the Son. . .The humility and sufferings of Christ,
the Son of God; and of good Christians, who are his sons by adoption;
are called hidden things, with regard to the children of this world,
who know not the value and merit of them.
9:2. I will give praise to thee, O Lord, with my whole heart:  I will
relate all thy wonders.
9:3. I will be glad, and rejoice in thee:  I will sing to thy name, O
thou most high.
9:4. When my enemy shall be turned back:  they shall be weakened, and
perish before thy face.
9:5. For thou hast maintained my judgment and my cause:  thou hast sat
on the throne, who judgest justice.
9:6. Thou hast rebuked the Gentiles, and the wicked one hath perished;
thou hast blotted out their name for ever and ever.
9:7. The swords of the enemy have failed unto the end:  and their cities
thou hast destroyed.  Their memory hath perished with a noise:
9:8. But the Lord remaineth for ever.  He hath prepared his throne in
9:9. And he shall judge the world in equity, he shall judge the people
9:10. And the Lord is become a refuge for the poor:  a helper in due
time in tribulation.
9:11. And let them trust in thee who know thy name:  for thou hast not
forsaken them that seek thee, O Lord.
9:12. Sing ye to the Lord, who dwelleth in Sion:  declare his ways among
the Gentiles:
9:13. For requiring their blood, he hath remembered them:  he hath not
forgotten the cry of the poor.
9:14. Have mercy on me, O Lord:  see my humiliation which I suffer from
9:15. Thou that liftest me up from the gates of death, that I may
declare all thy praises in the gates of the daughter of Sion.
9:16. I will rejoice in thy salvation:  the Gentiles have stuck fast in
the destruction which they prepared.  Their foot hath been taken in the
very snare which they hid.
9:17. The Lord shall be known when he executeth judgments:  the sinner
hath been caught in the works of his own hands.
9:18. The wicked shall be turned into hell, all the nations that forget
9:19. For the poor man shall not be forgotten to the end:  the patience
of the poor shall not perish for ever.
9:20. Arise, O Lord, let not man be strengthened:  let the Gentiles be
judged in thy sight.
9:21. Appoint, O Lord, a lawgiver over them:  that the Gentiles may know
themselves to be but men.
Here the late Hebrew doctors divide this psalm into two, making ver. 22
the beginning of Psalm 10.  And again they join Psalms 146 and 147 into
one, in order that the whole number of psalms should not exceed 150.
And in this manner the psalms are numbered in the Protestant Bible.
Psalm 10 according to the Hebrews.
9a:1. Why, O Lord, hast thou retired afar off?  why dost thou slight us
in our wants, in the time of trouble?
9a:2. Whilst the wicked man is proud, the poor is set on fire:  they are
caught in the counsels which they devise.
9a:3. For the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul:  and the
unjust man is blessed.
9a:4. The sinner hath provoked the Lord, according to the multitude of
his wrath, he will not seek him:
9a:5. God is not before his eyes:  his ways are filthy at all times.  Thy
judgments are removed form his sight:  he shall rule over all his
9a:6. For he hath said in his heart:  I shall not be moved from
generation to generation, and shall be without evil.
9a:7. His mouth is full of cursing, and of bitterness, and of deceit:
under his tongue are labour and sorrow.
9a:8. He sitteth in ambush with the rich, in private places, that he may
kill the innocent.
9a:9. His eyes are upon the poor man:  he lieth in wait, in secret, like
a lion in his den.  He lieth in ambush, that he may catch the poor man:
so catch the poor, whilst he draweth him to him.
9a:10. In his net he will bring him down, he will crouch and fall, when
he shall have power over the poor.
9a:11. For he hath said in his heart:  God hath forgotten, he hath turned
away his face, not to see to the end.
9a:12. Arise, O Lord God, let thy hand be exalted:  forget not the poor.
9a:13. Wherefore hath the wicked provoked God?  for he hath said in his
heart:  He will not require it.
9a:14. Thou seest it, for thou considerest labour and sorrow:  that thou
mayst deliver them into thy hands.  To thee is the poor man left:  thou
wilt be a helper to the orphan.
9a:15. Break thou the arm of the sinner and of the malignant:  his sin
shall be sought, and shall not be found.
9a:16. The Lord shall reign to eternity, yea, for ever and ever:  ye
Gentiles shall perish from his land.
9a:17. The Lord hath heard the desire of the poor:  thy ear hath heard
the preparation of their heart.
9a:18. To judge for the fatherless and for the humble, that man may no
more presume to magnify himself upon earth.
Psalms Chapter 10
In Domino confido.
The just man's confidence in God in the midst of persecutions.
10:1. Unto the end.  A psalm to David.
10:2. In the Lord I put my trust:  how then do you say to my soul:  Get
thee away from hence to the mountain, like a sparrow.
10:3. For, lo, the wicked have bent their bow:  they have prepared their
arrows in the quiver, to shoot in the dark the upright of heart.
10:4. For they have destroyed the things which thou hast made:  but what
has the just man done?
10:5. The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord's throne is in heaven.
His eyes look on the poor man:  his eyelids examine the sons of men.
10:6. The Lord trieth the just and the wicked:  but he that loveth
iniquity, hateth his own soul.
10:7. He shall rain snares upon sinners:  fire and brimstone, and storms
of winds, shall be the portion of their cup.
10:8. For the Lord is just, and hath loved justice:  his countenance
hath beheld righteousness.
Psalms Chapter 11
Salvum me fac.
The prophet calls for God's help against the wicked.
11:1. Unto the end:  for the octave, a psalm for David.
11:2. Save me, O Lord, for there is now no saint:  truths are decayed
from among the children of men.
11:3. They have spoken vain things, every one to his neighbour:  with
deceitful lips, and with a double heart have they spoken.
11:4. May the Lord destroy all deceitful lips, and the tongue that
speaketh proud things.
11:5. Who have said:  We will magnify our tongue:  our lips are our own:
who is Lord over us?
11:6. By reason of the misery of the needy, and the groans of the poor,
now will I arise, saith the Lord.  I will set him in safety:  I will deal
confidently in his regard.
11:7. The words of the Lord are pure words:  as silver tried by the
fire, purged from the earth, refined seven times.
11:8. Thou, O Lord, wilt preserve us:  and keep us from this generation
11:9. The wicked walk round about:  according to thy highness, thou hast
multiplied the children of men.
Psalms Chapter 12
Usquequo, Domine.
A prayer in tribulation.
12:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David.  How long, O Lord, wilt thou
forget me unto the end?  how long dost thou turn away thy face from me?
12:2. How long shall I take counsels in my soul, sorrow in my heart all
12:3. How long shall my enemy be exalted over Me?
12:4. Consider, and hear me, O Lord, my God.  Enlighten my eyes, that I
never sleep in death:
12:5. Lest at any time my enemy say:  I have prevailed against him.  They
that trouble me, will rejoice when I am moved:
12:6. But I have trusted in thy mercy.  My heart shall rejoice in thy
salvation:  I will sing to the Lord, who giveth me good things:  yea, I
will sing to the name of the Lord, the most high.
Psalms Chapter 13
Dixit insipiens.
The general corruption of man before our redemption by Christ.
13:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David.  The fool hath said in his heart:
There is no God.  They are corrupt, and are become abominable in their
ways:  there is none that doth good, no not one.
13:2. The Lord hath looked down from heaven upon the children of men,
to see if there be any that understand and seek God.
13:3. They are all gone aside, they are become unprofitable together:
there is none that doth good:  no not one.  Their throat is an open
sepulchre; with their tongues they acted deceitfully:  the poison of
asps is under their lips.  Their mouth is full of cursing and
bitterness; their feet are swift to shed blood.  Destruction and
unhappiness in their ways; and the way of peace they have not known:
there is no fear of God before their eyes.
13:4. Shall not all they know that work iniquity, who devour my people
as they eat bread?
13:5. They have not called upon the Lord:  there have they trembled for
fear, where there was no fear.
13:6. For the Lord is in the just generation:  you have confounded the
counsel of the poor man; but the Lord is his hope.
13:7. Who shall give out of Sion the salvation of Israel?  when the Lord
shall have turned away the captivity of his people, Jacob shall
rejoice, and Israel shall be glad.
Psalms Chapter 14
Domine, quis habitabit.
What kind of men shall dwell in the heavenly Sion.
14:1. A psalm for David.  Lord, who shall dwell in thy tabernacle?  or
who shall rest in thy holy hill?
14:2. He that walketh without blemish, and worketh justice:
14:3. He that speaketh truth in his heart, who hath not used deceit in
his tongue:  Nor hath done evil to his neighbour:  nor taken up a
reproach against his neighbours.
14:4. In his sight the malignant is brought to nothing:  but he
glorifieth them that fear the Lord.  He that sweareth to his neighbour,
and deceiveth not;
14:5. He that hath not put out his money to usury, nortaken bribes
against the innocent:  He that doth these things, shall not be moved for
Psalms Chapter 15
Conserva me, Domine.
Christ's future victory and triumph over the world and death.
15:1. The inscription of a title to David himself.  Preserve me, O Lord,
for I have put my trust in thee.
The inscription of a title. . .That is, of a pillar or monument,
staylographia:  which is as much as to say, that this psalm is most
worthy to be engraved on an everlasting monument.
15:2. I have said to the Lord, thou art my God, for thou hast no need
of my goods.
15:3. To the saints, who are in his land, he hath made wonderful all my
desires in them.
15:4. Their infirmities were multiplied:  afterwards they made haste.  I
will not gather together their meetings for bloodofferings:  nor will I
be mindful of their names by my lips.
15:5. The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and of my cup:  it is
thou that wilt restore my inheritance to me.
15:6. The lines are fallen unto me in goodly places:  for my inheritance
is goodly to me.
15:7. I will bless the Lord, who hath given me understanding:  moreover,
my reins also have corrected me even till night.
15:8. I set the Lord always in my sight:  for he is at my right hand,
that I be not moved.
15:9. Therefore my heart hath been glad, and my tongue hath rejoiced:
moreover, my flesh also shall rest in hope.
15:10. Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; nor wilt thou give
thy holy one to see corruption.
15:11. Thou hast made known to me the ways of life, thou shalt fill me
with joy with thy countenance:  at thy right hand are delights even to
Psalms Chapter 16
Exaudi, Domine, justitiam.
A just man's prayer in tribulation against the malice of his enemy.
16:1. The prayer of David.  Hear, O Lord, my justice:  attend to my
supplication.  Give ear unto my prayer, which proceedeth not from
deceitful lips.
16:2. Let my judgment come forth from thy countenance:  let thy eyes
behold the things that are equitable.
16:3. Thou hast proved my heart, and visited it by night, thou hast
tried me by fire:  and iniquity hath not been found in me.
16:4. That my mouth may not speak the works of men:  for the sake of the
words of thy lips, I have kept hard ways.
16:5. Perfect thou my goings in thy paths:  that my footsteps be not
16:6. I have cried to thee, for thou, O God, hast heard me:  O incline
thy ear unto me, and hear my words.
16:7. Shew forth thy wonderful mercies; thou who savest them that trust
16:8. From them that resist thy right hand keep me, as the apple of thy
eye.  Protect me under the shadow of thy wings.
16:9. From the face of the wicked who have afflicted me.  My enemies
have surrounded my soul:
16:10. They have shut up their fat:  their mouth hath spoken proudly.
Their fat. . .That is, their bowels of compassion:  for they have none
16:11. They have cast me forth, and now they have surrounded me:  they
have set their eyes bowing down to the earth.
16:12. They have taken me, as a lion prepared for the prey; and as a
young lion dwelling in secret places.
16:13. Arise, O Lord, disappoint him and supplant him; deliver my soul
from the wicked one; thy sword
16:14. From the enemies of thy hand.  O Lord, divide them from the few
of the earth in their life:  their belly is filled from thy hidden
stores.  They are full of children:  and they have left to their little
ones the rest of their substance.
Divide them from the few, etc. . .That is, cut them off from the earth,
and the few trifling things thereof; which they are so proud of, or
divide them from the few; that is, from thy elect, who are but few;
that they may no longer have it in their power to oppress them.  It is
not meant by way of a curse or imprecation; but, as many other the like
passages in the psalms, by way of a prediction, or prophecy of what
should come upon them, in punishment of their wickedness.  Ibid.  Thy
hidden stores. . .Thy secret treasures, out of which thou furnishest
those earthly goods, which, with a bountiful hand thou hast distributed
both to the good and the bad.
16:15. But as for me, I will appear before thy sight in justice:  I
shall be satisfied when thy glory shall appear.
Psalms Chapter 17
Diligam te, Domine.
David's thanks to God for his delivery from all his enemies.
17:1. Unto the end, for David, the servant of the Lord, who spoke to
the Lord the words of this canticle, in the day that the Lord delivered
him from the hand of all his enemies, and from the hand of Saul:  and he
17:2. I will love thee, O Lord, my strength:
17:3. The Lord is my firmament, my refuge, and my deliverer.  My God is
my helper, and in him will I put my trust.  My protector, and the horn
of my salvation, and my support.
17:4. Praising, I will call upon the Lord:  and I shall be saved from my
17:5. The sorrows of death surrounded me:  and the torrents of iniquity
troubled me.
17:6. The sorrows of hell encompassed me:  and the snares of death
prevented me.
17:7. In my affliction I called upon the Lord, and I cried to my God:
And he heard my voice from his holy temple:  and my cry before him came
into his ears.
17:8. The earth shook and trembled:  the foundations of the mountains
were troubled and were moved, because he was angry with them.
17:9. There went up a smoke in his wrath:  and a fire flamed from his
face:  coals were kindled by it.
17:10. He bowed the heavens, and came down, and darkness was under his
17:11. And he ascended upon the cherubim, and he flew; he flew upon the
wings of the winds.
17:12. And he made darkness his covert, his pavilion round about him:
dark waters in the clouds of the air.
17:13. At the brightness that was before him the clouds passed, hail
and coals of fire.
17:14. And the Lord thundered from heaven, and the Highest gave his
voice:  hail and coals of fire.
17:15. And he sent forth his arrows, and he scattered them:  he
multiplied lightnings, and troubled them.
17:16. Then the fountains of waters appeared, and the foundations of
the world were discovered:  At thy rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of the
spirit of thy wrath.
17:17. He sent from on high, and took me:  and received me out of many
17:18. He delivered me from my strongest enemies, and from them that
hated me:  for they were too strong for me.
17:19. They prevented me in the day of my affliction:  and the Lord
became my protector.
17:20. And he brought me forth into a large place:  he saved me, because
he was well pleased with me.
17:21. And the Lord will reward me according to my justice; and will
repay me according to the cleanness of my hands:
17:22. Because I have kept the ways of the Lord; and have not done
wickedly against my God.
17:23. For all his judgments are in my sight:  and his justices I have
not put away from me.
17:24. And I shall be spotless with him:  and shall keep myself from my
17:25. And the Lord will reward me according to my justice:  and
according to the cleanness of my hands before his eyes.
17:26. With the holy thou wilt be holy; and with the innocent man thou
wilt be innocent:
17:27. And withe the elect thou wilt be elect:  and with the perverse
thou wilt be perverted.
17:28. For thou wilt save the humble people; but wilt bring down the
eyes of the proud.
17:29. For thou lightest my lamp, O Lord:  O my God, enlighten my
17:30. For by thee I shall be delivered from temptation; and through my
God I shall go over a wall.
17:31. As for my God, his way is undefiled:  the words of the Lord are
fire-tried:  he is the protector of all that trust in him.
17:32. For who is God but the Lord?  or who is God but our God?
17:33. God, who hath girt me with strength; and made my way blameless.
17:34. Who hath made my feet like the feet of harts:  and who setteth me
upon high places.
17:35. Who teacheth my hands to war:  and thou hast made my arms like a
17:36. And thou hast given me the protection of thy salvation:  and thy
right hand hath held me up:  And thy discipline hath corrected me unto
the end:  and thy discipline, the same shall teach me.
17:37. Thou hast enlarged my steps under me; and my feet are not
17:38. I will pursue after my enemies, and overtake them:  and I will
not turn again till they are consumed.
17:39. I will break them, and they shall not be able to stand:  they
shall fall under my feet.
17:40. And thou hast girded me with strength unto battle; and hast
subdued under me them that rose up against me.
17:41. And thou hast made my enemies furn their back upon me, and hast
destroyed them that hated me.
17:42. They cried, but there was none to save them, to the Lord:  but he
heard them not.
17:43. And I shall beat them as small as the dust before the wind; I
shall bring them to nought, like the dirt in the streets.
17:44. Thou wilt deliver me from the contradictions of the people; thou
wilt make me head of the Gentiles.
17:45. A people which I knew not, hath served me:  at the hearing of the
ear they have obeyed me.
17:46. The children that are strangers have lied to me, strange
children have faded away, and have halted from their paths.
17:47. The Lord liveth, and blessed by my God, and let the God of my
salvation be exalted.
17:48. O God, who avengest me, and subduest the people under me, my
deliverer from my enraged enemies.
17:49. And thou wilt lift me up above them that rise up against me:
from the unjust man thou wilt deliver me.
17:50. Therefore will I give glory to thee, O Lord, among the nations,
and I will sing a psalm to thy name.
17:51. Giving great deliverance to his king, and shewing mercy to
David, his anointed:  and to his seed for ever.
Psalms Chapter 18
Coeli enarrant.
The works of God shew forth his glory:  his law is greatly to be
esteemed and loved.
18:1. Unto the end.  A Psalm for David.
18:2. The heavens shew forth the glory of God, and the firmament
declareth the work of his hands.
18:3. Day to day uttereth speech, and night to night sheweth knowledge.
18:4. There are no speeches nor languages, where their voices are not
18:5. Their sound hath gone forth into all the earth:  and their words
unto the ends of the world.
18:6. He hath set his tabernacle in the sun:  and he as a bridegroom
coming out of his bridechamber, Hath rejoiced as a giant to run the
18:7. His going out is from the end of heaven, And his circuit even to
the end thereof:  and there is no one that can hide himself from his
18:8. The law of the Lord is unspotted, converting souls:  the testimony
of the Lord is faithful, giving wisdom to little ones.
18:9. The justices of the Lord are right, rejoicing hearts:  the
commandment of the Lord is lightsome, enlightening the eyes.
18:10. The fear of the Lord is holy, enduring for ever and ever:  the
judgments of the Lord are true, justified in themselves.
18:11. More to be desired than gold and many precious stones:  and
sweeter than honey and the honeycomb.
18:12. For thy servant keepeth them, and in keeping them there is a
great reward.
18:13. Who can understand sins?  from my secret ones cleanse me, O Lord:
18:14. And from those of others spare thy servant.  If they shall have
no dominion over me, then shall I be without spot:  and I shall be
cleansed form the greatest sin.
18:15. And the words of my mouth shall be such as may please:  and the
meditation of my heart always in thy sight.  O Lord, my helper and my
Psalms Chapter 19
Exaudiat te Dominus.
A prayer for the king.
19:1. Unto the end.  A psalm for David.
19:2. May the Lord hear thee in the day of tribulation:  may the name of
the God of Jacob protect thee.
19:3. May he send thee help from the sanctuary:  and defend thee out of
19:4. May he be mindful of all thy sacrifices:  and may thy whole
burntoffering be made fat.
19:5. May he give thee according to thy own heart; and confirm all thy
19:6. We will rejoice in thy salvation; and in the name of our God we
shall be exalted.
19:7. The Lord fulfil all thy petitions:  now have I known that the Lord
hath saved his anointed.  He will hear him from his holy heaven:  the
salvation of his right hand is in powers.
The salvation of his right hand is in powers. . .That is, in strength.
His right hand is strong and mighty to save them that trust in him.
19:8. Some trust in chariots, and some in horses:  but we will call upon
the name of the Lord, our God.
19:9. They are bound, and have fallen:  but we are risen, and are set
upright.  O Lord, save the king:  and hear us in the day that we shall
call upon thee.
Psalms Chapter 20
Domine, in virtute.
Praise to God for Christ's exaltation after his passion.
20:1. Unto the end.  A psalm for David.
20:2. In thy strength, O Lord, the king shall joy; and in thy salvation
he shall rejoice exceedingly.
20:3. Thou hast given him his heart's desire:  and hast not withholden
from him the will of his lips.
20:4. For thou hast prevented him with blessings of sweetness:  thou
hast set on his head a crown of precious stones.
20:5. He asked life of thee:  and thou hast given him length of days for
ever and ever.
20:6. His glory is great in thy salvation:  glory and great beauty shalt
thou lay upon him.
20:7. For thou shalt give him to be a blessing for ever and ever:  thou
shalt make him joyful in gladness with thy countenance.
20:8. For the king hopeth in the Lord:  and through the mercy of the
most High he shall not be moved.
20:9. Let thy hand be found by all thy enemies:  let thy right hand find
out all them that hate thee.
20:10. Thou shalt make them as an oven of fire, in the time of thy
anger:  the Lord shall trouble them in his wrath, and fire shall devour
20:11. Their fruit shalt thou destroy from the earth:  and their seed
from among the children of men.
20:12. For they have intended evils against thee:  they have devised
counsels which they have not been able to establish.
20:13. For thou shalt make them turn their back:  in thy remnants thou
shalt prepare their face.
In thy remnants thou shalt prepare their face. . .Or thou shalt set thy
remnants against their faces.  That is, thou shalt make them see what
punishments remain for them hereafter from thy justice.  Instead of
remnants, St. Jerome renders it funes, that is, cords or strings, viz.,
of the bow of divine justice, from which God directs his arrows against
the faces of his enemies.
20:14. Be thou exalted, O Lord, in thy own strength:  we will sing and
praise thy power.
Psalms Chapter 21
Deus Deus meus.
Christ's passion:  and the conversion of the Gentiles.
21:1. Unto the end, for the morning protection, a psalm for David.
21:2. O God my God, look upon me:  why hast thou forsaken me?  Far from
my salvation are the words of my sins.
The words of my sins. . .That is, the sins of the world, which I have
taken upon myself, cry out against me, and are the cause of all my
21:3. O my God, I shall cry by day, and thou wilt not hear:  and by
night, and it shall not be reputed as folly in me.
21:4. But thou dwellest in the holy place, the praise of Israel.
21:5. In thee have our fathers hoped:  they have hoped, and thou hast
delivered them.
21:6. They cried to thee, and they were saved:  they trusted in thee,
and were not confounded.
21:7. But I am a worm, and no man:  the reproach of men, and the outcast
of the people.
21:8. All they that saw me have laughed me to scorn:  they have spoken
with the lips, and wagged the head.
21:9. He hoped in the Lord, let him deliver him:  let him save him,
seeing he delighteth in him.
21:10. For thou art he that hast drawn me out of the womb:  my hope from
the breasts of my mother.
21:11. I was cast upon thee from the womb.  From my mother's womb thou
21:12. Depart not from me.  For tribulation is very near:  for there is
none to help me.
21:13. Many calves have surrounded me:  fat bulls have besieged me.
21:14.They have opened their mouths against me, as a lion ravening and
21:15. I am poured out like water; and all my bones are scattered.  My
heart is become like wax melting in the midst of my bowels.
21:16. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue hath
cleaved to my jaws:  and thou hast brought me down into the dust of
21:17. For many dogs have encompassed me:  the council of the malignant
hath besieged me.  They have dug my hands and feet.
21:18. They have numbered all my bones.  And they have looked and stared
21:19. They parted my garments amongst them; and upon my vesture they
21:20. But thou, O Lord, remove not thy help to a distance from me;
look towards my defence.
21:21. Deliver, O God, my soul from the sword:  my only one from the
hand of the dog.
21:22. Save me from the lion's mouth; and my lowness from the horns of
the unicorns.
21:23. I will declare thy name to my brethren:  in the midst of the
church will I praise thee.
21:24. Ye that fear the Lord, praise him:  all ye the seed of Jacob,
glorify him.
21:25. Let all the seed of Israel fear him:  because he hath not
slighted nor despised the supplication of the poor man.  Neither hath he
turned away his face form me:  and when I cried to him he heard me.
21:26. With thee is my praise in a great church:  I will pay my vows in
the sight of them that fear him.
21:27. The poor shall eat and shall be filled:  and they shall praise
the Lord that seek him:  their hearts shall live for ever and ever.
21:28. All the ends of the earth shall remember, and shall be converted
to the Lord:  And all the kindreds of the Gentiles shall adore in his
21:29. For the kingdom is the Lord's; and he shall have dominion over
the nations.
21:30. All the fat ones of the earth have eaten and have adored:  all
they that go down to the earth shall fall before him.
21:31. And to him my soul shall live:  and my seed shall serve him.
21:32. There shall be declared to the Lord a generation to come:  and
the heavens shall shew forth his justice to a people that shall be
born, which the Lord hath made.
Psalms Chapter 22
Dominus regit me.
God's spiritual benefits to faithful souls.
22:1. A psalm for David.  The Lord ruleth me:  and I shall want nothing.
Ruleth me. . .In Hebrew, Is my shepherd, viz., to feed, guide, and
22:2. He hath set me in a place of pasture.  He hath brought me up, on
the water of refreshment:
22:3. He hath converted my soul.  He hath led me on the paths of
justice, for his own name's sake.
22:4. For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evils, for thou art with me.  Thy rod and thy staff, they
have comforted me.
22:5. Thou hast prepared a table before me against them that afflict
me.  Thou hast anointed my head with oil; and my chalice which
inebreateth me, how goodly is it!
22:6. And thy mercy will follow me all the days of my life.  And that I
may dwell in the house of the Lord unto length of days.
Psalms Chapter 23
Domini est terra.
Who are they that shall ascend to heaven:  Christ's triumphant ascension
23:1. On the first day of the week, a psalm for David.  The earth is the
Lord's and the fulness thereof:  the world, and all they that dwell
23:2. For he hath founded it upon the seas; and hath prepared it upon
23:3. Who shall ascend into the mountain of the Lord:  or who shall
stand in his holy place?
23:4. The innocent in hands, and clean of heart, who hath not taken his
soul in vain, nor sworn deceitfully to his neighbour.
23:5. He shall receive a blessing from the Lord, and mercy from God his
23:6. This is the generation of them that seek him, of them that seek
the face of the God of Jacob.
23:7. Lift up your gates, O ye princes, and be ye lifted up, O eternal
gates:  and the King of Glory shall enter in.
23:8. Who is this King of Glory?  the Lord who is strong and mighty:  the
Lord mighty in battle.
23:9. Lift up your gates, O ye princes, and be ye lifted up, O eternal
gates:  and the King of Glory shall enter in.
23:10. Who is this King of Glory?  the Lord of hosts, he is the King of
Psalms Chapter 24
Ad te, Domine, levavi.
A prayer for grace, mercy, and protection against our enemies.
24:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David.  To thee, O Lord, have I lifted
24:2. In thee, O my God, I put my trust; let me not be ashamed.
24:3. Neither let my enemies laugh at me:  for none of them that wait on
thee shall be confounded.
24:4. Let all them be confounded that act unjust things without cause.
Shew, O Lord, thy ways to me, and teach me thy paths.
24:5. Direct me in thy truth, and teach me; for thou art God my
Saviour; and on thee have I waited all the day long.
24:6. Remember, O Lord, thy bowels of compassion; and thy mercies that
are from the beginning of the world.
24:7. The sins of my youth and my ignorances do not remember.  According
to thy mercy remember thou me:  for thy goodness' sake, O Lord.
24:8. The Lord is sweet and righteous:  therefore he will give a law to
sinners in the way.
24:9. He will guide the mild in judgment:  he will teach the meek his
24:10. All the ways of the Lord are mercy and truth, to them that seek
after his covenant and his testimonies.
24:11. For thy name's sake, O Lord, thou wilt pardon my sin:  for it is
24:12. Who is the man that feareth the Lord?  He hath appointed him a
law in the way he hath chosen.
24:13. His soul shall dwell in good things:  and his seed shall inherit
24:14. The Lord is a firmament to them that fear him:  and his covenant
shall be made manifest to them.
24:15. My eyes are ever towards the Lord:  for he shall pluck my feet
out of the snare.
24:16. Look thou upon me, and have mercy on me; for I am alone and
24:17. The troubles of my heart are multiplied:  deliver me from my
necessities.
24:18. See my abjection and my labour; and forgive me all my sins.
24:19. Consider my enemies for they are multiplied, and have hated me
with an unjust hatred.
24:20. Deep thou my soul, and deliver me:  I shall not be ashamed, for I
have hoped in thee.
24:21. The innocent and the upright have adhered to me:  because I have
waited on thee.
24:22. Deliver Israel, O God, from all his tribulations.
Psalms Chapter 25
Judica me, Domine.
David's prayer to God in his distress, to be delivered, that he may
come to worship him in his tabernacle.
25:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David.  Judge me, O Lord, for I have
walked in my innocence:  and I have put my trust in the Lord, and shall
not be weakened.
25:2. Prove me, O Lord, and try me; burn my reins and my heart.
25:3. For thy mercy is before my eyes; and I am well pleased with thy
25:4. I have not sat with the council of vanity:  neither will I go in
with the doers of unjust things.
25:5. I have hated the assembly of the malignant; and with the wicked I
will not sit.
25:6. I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy
altar, O Lord:
25:7. That I may hear the voice of thy praise:  and tell of all thy
wondrous works.
25:8. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place
where thy glory dwelleth.
25:9. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked:  nor my life with
25:10. In whose hands are iniquities:  their right hand is filled with
25:11. But as for me, I have walked in my innocence:  redeem me, and
have mercy on me.
25:12. My foot hath stood in the direct way:  in the churches I will
bless thee, O Lord.
Psalms Chapter 26
Dominus illuminatio.
David's faith and hope in God.
26:1. The psalm of David before he was anointed.  The Lord is my light
and my salvation, whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the protector of my
life:  of whom shall I be afraid?
26:2. Whilst the wicked draw near against me, to eat my flesh.  My
enemies that trouble me, have themselves been weakened, and have
26:3. If armies in camp should stand together against me, my heart
shall not fear.  If a battle should rise up against me, in this will I
be confident.
26:4. One thing I have asked of the Lord, this will I seek after; that
I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.  That I
may see the delight of the Lord, and may visit his temple.
26:5. For he hath hidden me in his tabernacle; in the day of evils, he
hath protected me in the secret place of his tabernacle.
26:6. He hath exalted me upon a rock:  and now he hath lifted up my head
above my enemies.  I have gone round, and have offered up in his
tabernacle a sacrifice of jubilation:  I will sing, and recite a psalm
to the Lord.
26:7. Hear, O Lord, my voice, with which I have cried to thee:  have
mercy on me and hear me.
26:8. My heart hath said to thee:  My face hath sought thee:  thy face, O
Lord, will I still seek.
26:9. Turn not away thy face from me; decline not in thy wrath from thy
servant.  Be thou my helper, forsake me not; do not thou despise me, O
God my Saviour.
26:10. For my father and my mother have left me:  but the Lord hath
taken me up.
26:11. Set me, O Lord, a law in thy way, and guide me in the right
path, because of my enemies.
26:12. Deliver me not over to the will of them that trouble me; for
unjust witnesses have risen up against me; and iniquity hath lied to
26:13. I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the
26:14. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage,
and wait thou for the Lord.
Psalms Chapter 27
Ad te, Domine, clamabo.
David's prayer that his enemies may not prevail over him.
27:1. A psalm for David himself.  Unto thee will I cry, O Lord:  O my
God, be not thou silent to me:  lest if thou be silent to me, I become
like them that go down into the pit.
27:2. Hear, O Lord, the voice of my supplication, when I pray to thee;
when I lift up my hands to thy holy temple.
27:3. Draw me not away together with the wicked; and with the workers
of iniquity destroy me not:  Who speak peace with their neighbour, but
evils are in their hearts.
27:4. Give them according to their works, and according to the
wickedness of their inventions.  According to the works of their hands
give thou to them:  render to them their reward.
27:5. Because they have not understood the works of the Lord, and the
operations of his hands:  thou shalt destroy them, and shalt not build
27:6. Blessed be the Lord, for he hath heard the voice of my
supplication.
27:7. The Lord is my helper and my protector:  in him hath my heart
confided, and I have been helped.  And my flesh hath flourished again,
and with my will I will give praise to him.
27:8. The Lord is the strength of his people, and the protector of the
salvation of his anointed.
27:9. Save, O Lord, thy people, and bless thy inheritance:  and rule
them and exalt them for ever.
Psalms Chapter 28
Afferte Domino.
An invitation to glorify God, with a commemoration of his mighty works.
28:1. A psalm for David, at the finishing of the tabernacle.  Bring to
the Lord, O ye children of God:  bring to the Lord the offspring of
28:2. Bring to the Lord glory and honour:  bring to the Lord glory to
his name:  adore ye the Lord in his holy court.
28:3. The voice of the Lord is upon the waters; the God of majesty hath
thundered, The Lord is upon many waters.
28:4. The voice of the Lord is in power; the voice of the Lord in
magnificence.
28:5. The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars:  yea, the Lord shall
break the cedars of Libanus.
28:6. And shall reduce them to pieces, as a calf of Libanus, and as the
beloved son of unicorns.
Shall reduce them to pieces, etc. . .In Hebrew, shall make them to skip
like a calf.  The psalmist here describes the effects of thunder (which
he calls the voice of the Lord) which sometimes breaks down the tallest
and strongest trees; and makes their broken branches skip, etc.  All
this is to be understood mystically of the powerful voice of God's word
in his church; which has broken the pride of the great ones of this
world, and brought many of them meekly and joyfully to submit their
necks to the sweet yoke of Christ.
28:7. The voice of the Lord divideth the flame of fire:
28:8. The voice of the Lord shaketh the desert:  and the Lord shall
shake the desert of Cades.
28:9. The voice of the Lord prepareth the stags:  and he will discover
the thick woods:  and in his temple all shall speak his glory.
28:10. The Lord maketh the flood to dwell:  and the Lord shall sit king
for ever.  The Lord will give strength to his people:  the Lord will
bless his people with peace.
Psalms Chapter 29
Exaltabo te, Domine.
David praiseth God for his deliverance, and his merciful dealings with
29:1. A psalm of a canticle, at the dedication of David's house.
29:2. I will extol thee, O Lord, for thou hast upheld me:  and hast not
made my enemies to rejoice over me.
29:3. O Lord my God, I have cried to thee, and thou hast healed me.
29:4. Thou hast brought forth, O Lord, my soul from hell:  thou hast
saved me from them that go down into the pit.
29:5. Sing to the Lord, O ye his saints:  and give praise to the memory
of his holiness.
29:6. For wrath is in his indignation; and life in his good will.  In
the evening weeping shall have place, and in the morning gladness.
29:7. And in my abundance I said:  I shall never be moved.
29:8. O Lord, in thy favour, thou gavest strength to my beauty.  Thou
turnedst away thy face from me, and I became troubled.
29:9. To thee, O Lord, will I cry:  and I will make supplication to my
29:10. What profit is there in my blood, whilst I go down to
corruption?  Shall dust confess to thee, or declare thy truth?
29:11. The Lord hath heard, and hath had mercy on me:  the Lord became
29:12. Thou hast turned for me my mourning into joy:  thou hast cut my
sackcloth, and hast compassed me with gladness:
29:13. To the end that my glory may sing to thee, and I may not regret:
O Lord my God, I will give praise to thee for ever.
Psalms Chapter 30
In te, Domine, speravi.
A prayer of a just man under affliction.
30:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David, in an ecstasy.
30:2. In thee, O Lord, have I hoped, let me never be confounded:
deliver me in thy justice.
30:3. Bow down thy ear to me:  make haste to deliver me.  Be thou unto me
a God, a protector, and a house of refuge, to save me.
30:4. For thou art my strength and my refuge; and for thy name's sake
thou wilt lead me, and nourish me.
30:5. Thou wilt bring me out of this snare, which they have hidden for
me:  for thou art my protector.
30:6. Into thy hands I commend my spirit:  thou hast redeemed me, O
Lord, the God of truth.
30:7. Thou hast hated them that regard vanities, to no purpose.  But I
have hoped in the Lord:
30:8. I will be glad and rejoice in thy mercy.  For thou hast regarded
my humility, thou hast saved my soul out of distresses.
30:9. And thou hast not shut me up in the hands of the enemy:  thou hast
set my feet in a spacious place.
30:10. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am afflicted:  my eye is troubled
with wrath, my soul, and my belly:
30:11. For my life is wasted with grief:  and my years in sighs.  My
strength is weakened through poverty and my bones are disturbed.
30:12. I am become a reproach among all my enemies, and very much to my
neighbours; and a fear to my acquaintance.  They that saw me without
fled from me.
30:13. I am forgotten as one dead from the heart.  I am become as a
vessel that is destroyed.
30:14. For I have heard the blame of many that dwell round about.  While
they assembled together against me, they consulted to take away my
30:15. But I have put my trust in thee, O Lord:  I said:  Thou art my
30:16. My lots are in thy hands.  Deliver me out of the hands of my
enemies; and from them that persecute me.
30:17. Make thy face to shine upon thy servant; save me in thy mercy.
30:18. Let me not be confounded, O Lord, for I have called upon thee.
Let the wicked be ashamed, and be brought down to hell.
30:19. Let deceitful lips be made dumb.  Which speak iniquity against
the just, with pride and abuse.
30:20. O how great is the multitude of thy sweetness, O Lord, which
thou hast hidden for them that fear thee!  Which thou hast wrought for
them that hope in thee, in the sight of the sons of men.
30:21. Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy face, from the
disturbance of men.  Thou shalt protect them in thy tabernacle from the
contradiction of tongues.
30:22. Blessed be the Lord, for he hath shewn his wonderful mercy to me
in a fortified city.
30:23. But I said in the excess of my mind:  I am cast away from before
thy eyes.  Therefore thou hast heard the voice of my prayer, when I
cried to thee.
30:24. O love the Lord, all ye his saints:  for the Lord will require
truth, and will repay them abundantly that act proudly.
30:25. Do ye manfully, and let your heart be strengthened, all ye that
hope in the Lord.
Psalms Chapter 31
Beati quorum.
The second penitential psalm.
31:1. To David himself, understanding.  Blessed are they whose
iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered.
31:2. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord hath not imputed sin, and in
whose spirit there is no guile.
31:3. Because I was silent my bones grew old; whilst I cried out all
the day long.
Because I was silent, etc. . .That is, whilst I kept silence, by
concealing, or refusing to confess my sins, thy hand was heavy upon me,
31:4. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me:  I am turned in my
anguish, whilst the thorn is fastened.
I am turned, etc. . .That is, I turn and roll about in my bed to seek
for ease in my pain whilst the thorn of thy justice pierces my flesh,
and sticks fast in me.  Or, I am turned:  that is, I am converted to
thee, my God, by being brought to a better understanding by thy
chastisements.  In the Hebrew it is, my moisture is turned into the
droughts of the summer.
31:5. I have acknowledged my sin to thee, and my injustice I have not
concealed.  I said I will confess against my self my injustice to the
Lord:  and thou hast forgiven the wickedness of my sin.
31:6. For this shall every one that is holy pray to thee in a
seasonable time.  And yet in a flood of many waters, they shall not come
nigh unto him.
31:7. Thou art my refuge from the trouble which hath encompassed me:  my
joy, deliver me from them that surround me.
31:8. I will give thee understanding, and I will instruct thee in this
way, in which thou shalt go:  I will fix my eyes upon thee.
31:9. Do not become like the horse and the mule, who have no
understanding.  With bit and bridle bind fast their jaws, who come not
near unto thee.
31:10. Many are the scourges of the sinner, but mercy shall encompass
him that hopeth in the Lord.
31:11. Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye just, and glory, all ye
right of heart.
Psalms Chapter 32
Exultate, justi.
An exhortation to praise God, and to trust in him.
32:1. A psalm for David.  Rejoice in the Lord, O ye just:  praise
becometh the upright.
32:2. Give praise to the Lord on the harp; sing to him with the
psaltery, the instrument of ten strings.
32:3. Sing to him a new canticle, sing well unto him with a loud noise.
32:4. For the word of the Lord is right, and all his works are done
with faithfulness.
32:5. He loveth mercy and judgment; the earth is full of the mercy of
32:6. By the word of the Lord the heavens were established; and all the
power of them by the spirit of his mouth:
32:7. Gathering together the waters of the sea, as in a vessel; laying
up the depths in storehouses.
32:8. Let all the earth fear the Lord, and let all the inhabitants of
the world be in awe of him.
32:9. For he spoke and they were made:  he commanded and they were
32:10. The Lord bringeth to nought the counsels of nations; and he
rejecteth the devices of people, and casteth away the counsels of
32:11. But the counsel of the Lord standeth for ever:  the thoughts of
his heart to all generations.
32:12. Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord:  the people whom he
hath chosen for his inheritance.
32:13. The Lord hath looked from heaven:  he hath beheld all the sons of
32:14. From his habitation which he hath prepared, he hath looked upon
all that dwell on the earth.
32:15. He who hath made the hearts of every one of them:  who
understandeth all their works.
32:16. The king is not saved by a great army:  nor shall the giant be
saved by his own great strength.
32:17. Vain is the horse for safety:  neither shall he be saved by the
abundance of his strength.
32:18. Behold the eyes of the Lord are on them that fear him:  and on
them that hope in his mercy.
32:19. To deliver their souls from death; and feed them in famine.
32:20. Our soul waiteth for the Lord:  for he is our helper and
32:21. For in him our heart shall rejoice:  and in his holy name we have
32:22. Let thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us, as we have hooped in thee.
Psalms Chapter 33
Benedicam Dominum.
An exhortation to the praise, and service of God.
33:1. For David, when he changed his countenance before Achimelech, who
dismissed him, and he went his way.  [1 Kings 21.]
33:2. I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise shall be always in
33:3. In the Lord shall my soul be praised:  let the meek hear and
33:4. O magnify the Lord with me; and let us extol his name together.
33:5. I sought the Lord, and he heard me; and he delivered me from all
my troubles.
33:6. Come ye to him and be enlightened:  and your faces shall not be
33:7. This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him:  and saved him out of
all his troubles.
33:8. The angel of the Lord shall encamp round about them that fear
him:  and shall deliver them.
33:9. O taste, and see that the Lord is sweet:  blessed is the man that
hopeth in him.
33:10. Fear the Lord, all ye his saints:  for there is no want to them
that fear him.
33:11. The rich have wanted, and have suffered hunger:  but they that
seek the Lord shall not be deprived of any good.
33:12. Come, children, hearken to me:  I will teach you the fear of the
33:13. Who is the man that desireth life:  who liveth to see good days?
33:14. Keep thy tongue form evil, and thy lips from speaking guile.
33:15. Turn away from evil and do good:  seek after peace and pursue it.
33:16. The eyes of the Lord are upon the just:  and his ears unto their
33:17. But the countenance of the Lord is against them that do evil
things:  to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth.
33:18. The just cried, and the Lord heard them:  and delivered them out
of all their troubles.
33:19. The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a contrite heart:  and he
will save the humble of spirit.
33:20. Many are the afflictions of the just; but out of them all will
the Lord deliver them.
33:21. The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a contrite heart:  and he
will save the humble of spirit.
33:22. The death of the wicked is very evil:  and they that hate the
just shall be guilty.
33:23. The Lord will redeem the souls of his servants:  and none of them
that trust in him shall offend.
Psalms Chapter 34
Judica, Domine, nocentes me.
David, in the person of Christ, prayeth against his persecutors:
prophetically foreshewing the punishments that shall fall upon them.
34:1. For David himself.  Judge thou, O Lord, them that wrong me:
overthrow them that fight against me.
34:2. Take hold of arms and shield:  and rise up to help me.
34:3. Bring out the sword, and shut up the way against them that
persecute me:  say to my soul:  I am thy salvation.
34:4. Let them be confounded and ashamed that seek after my soul.  Let
them be turned back and be confounded that devise evil against me.
34:5. Let them become as dust before the wind:  and let the angel of the
Lord straiten them.
34:6. Let their way become dark and slippery; and let the angel of the
Lord pursue them.
34:7. For without cause they have hidden their net for me unto
destruction:  without cause they have upbraided my soul.
34:8. Let the snare which he knoweth not come upon him:  and let the net
which he hath hidden catch him:  and into that very snare let them fall.
34:9. But my soul shall rejoice in the Lord; and shall be delighted in
his salvation.
34:10. All my bones shall say:  Lord, who is like to thee?  Who
deliverest the poor from the hand of them that are stronger than he;
the needy and the poor from them that strip him.
34:11. Unjust witnesses rising up have asked me things I knew not.
34:12. They repaid me evil for good:  to the depriving me of my soul.
34:13. But as for me, when they were troublesome to me, I was clothed
with haircloth.  I humbled my soul with fasting; and my prayer shall be
turned into my bosom.
34:14. As a neighbour and as an own brother, so did I please:  as one
mourning and sorrowful so was I humbled.
34:15. But they rejoiced against me, and came together:  scourges were
gathered together upon me, and I knew not.
34:16. They were separated, and repented not:  they tempted me, they
scoffed at me with scorn:  they gnashed upon me with their teeth.
34:17. Lord, when wilt thou look upon me?  rescue thou my soul from
their malice:  my only one from the lions.
34:18. I will give thanks to thee in a great church; I will praise thee
in a strong people.
34:19. Let not them that are my enemies wrongfully rejoice over me:  who
have hated me without cause, and wink with the eyes.
34:20. For they spoke indeed peaceably to me; and speaking in the anger
of the earth they devised guile.
34:21. And they opened their mouth wide against me; they said:  Well
done, well done, our eyes have seen it.
34:22. Thou hast seen, O Lord, be not thou silent:  O Lord, depart not
34:23. Arise, and be attentive to my judgment:  to my cause, my God, and
34:24. Judge me, O Lord my God according to thy justice, and let them
not rejoice over me.
34:25. Let them not say in their hearts:  It is well, it is well, to our
mind:  neither let them say:  We have swallowed him up.
34:26. Let them blush:  and be ashamed together, who rejoice at my
evils.  Let them be clothed with confusion and shame, who speak great
things against me.
34:27. Let them rejoice and be glad, who are well pleased with my
justice, and let them say always:  The Lord be magnified, who delights
in the peace of his servant.
34:28. And my tongue shall meditate thy justice, thy praise all the day
Psalms Chapter 35
Dixit injustus.
The malice of sinners, and the goodness of God.
35:1. Unto the end, for the servant of God, David himself.
35:2. The unjust hath said within himself, that he would sin:  there is
no fear of God before his eyes.
35:3. For in his sight he hath done deceitfully, that his iniquity may
be found unto hatred.
Unto hatred. . .That is, hateful to God.
35:4. The words of his mouth are iniquity and guile:  he would not
understand that he might do well.
35:5. He hath devised iniquity on his bed, he hath set himself on every
way that is not good:  but evil he hath not hated.
35:6. O Lord, thy mercy is in heaven, and thy truth reacheth even to
35:7. Thy justice is as the mountains of God, thy judgments are a great
deep.  Men and beasts thou wilt preserve, O Lord:
35:8. O how hast thou multiplied thy mercy, O God!  But the children of
men shall put their trust under the covert of thy wings.
35:9. They shall be inebriated with the plenty of thy house; and thou
shalt make them drink of the torrent of thy pleasure.
35:10. For with thee is the fountain of life; and in thy light we shall
35:11. Extend thy mercy to them that know thee, and thy justice to them
that are right in heart.
35:12. Let not the foot of pride come to me, and let not the hand of
the sinner move me.
35:13. There the workers of iniquity are fallen, they are cast out, and
could not stand.
Psalms Chapter 36
Noli aemulari.
An exhortation to despise this world; and the short prosperity of the
wicked; and to trust in Providence.
36:1. Be not emulous of evildoers; nor envy them that work iniquity.
36:2. For they shall shortly wither away as grass, and as the green
herbs shall quickly fall.
36:3. Trust in the Lord, and do good, and dwell in the land, and thou
shalt be fed with its riches.
36:4. Delight in the Lord, and he will give thee the requests of thy
36:5. Commit thy way to the Lord, and trust in him, and he will do it.
36:6. And he will bring forth thy justice as the light, and thy
judgment as the noonday.
36:7. Be subject to the Lord and pray to him.  Envy not the man who
prospereth in his way; the man who doth unjust things.
36:8. Cease from anger, and leave rage; have no emulation to do evil.
36:9. For evildoers shall be cut off:  but they that wait upon the Lord,
they shall inherit the land.
36:10. For yet a little while, and the wicked shall not be:  and thou
shalt seek his place, and shalt not find it.
36:11. But the meek shall inherit the land, and shall delight in
abundance of peace.
36:12. The sinner shall watch the just man:  and shall gnash upon him
with his teeth.
36:13. But the Lord shall laugh at him:  for he foreseeth that his day
36:14. The wicked have drawn out the sword:  they have bent their bow.
To cast down the poor and needy, to kill the upright of heart.
36:15. Let their sword enter into their own hearts, and let their bow
36:16. Better is a little to the just, than the great riches of the
36:17. For the arms of the wicked shall be broken in pieces; but the
Lord strengtheneth the just.
36:18. The Lord knoweth the days of the undefiled; and their
inheritance shall be for ever.
36:19. They shall not be confounded in the evil time; and in the days
of famine they shall be filled:
36:20. Because the wicked shall perish.  And the enemies of the Lord,
presently after they shall be honoured and exalted, shall come to
nothing and vanish like smoke.
36:21. The sinner shall borrow, and not pay again; but the just sheweth
mercy and shall give.
36:22. For such as bless him shall inherit the land:  but such as curse
him shall perish.
36:23. With the Lord shall the steps of a man be directed, and he shall
like well his way.
36:24. When he shall fall he shall not be bruised, for the Lord putteth
his hand under him.
36:25. I have been young and now am old; and I have not seen the just
forsaken, nor his seed seeking bread.
36:26. He sheweth mercy, and lendeth all the day long; and his seed
shall be in blessing.
36:27. Decline from evil and do good, and dwell for ever and ever.
36:28. For the Lord loveth judgment, and will not forsake his saints:
they shall be preserved for ever.  The unjust shall be punished, and the
seed of the wicked shall perish.
36:29. But the just shall inherit the land, and shall dwell therein for
36:30. The mouth of the just shall meditate wisdom:  and his tongue
shall speak judgment.
36:31. The law of his God is in his heart, and his steps shall not be
36:32. The wicked watcheth the just man, and seeketh to put him to
36:33. But the Lord will not leave him in his hands; nor condemn him
when he shall be judged.
36:34. Expect the Lord and keep his way:  and he will exalt thee to
inherit the land:  when the sinners shall perish thou shalt see.
36:35. I have seen the wicked highly exalted, and lifted up like the
cedars of Libanus.
36:36. And I passed by, and lo, he was not:  and I sought him and his
place was not found.
36:37. Keep innocence, and behold justice:  for there are remnants for
the peaceable man.
36:38. But the unjust shall be destroyed together:  the remnants of the
wicked shall perish.
36:39. But the salvation of the just is from the Lord, and he is their
protector in the time of trouble.
36:40. And the Lord will help them and deliver them:  and he will rescue
them from the wicked, and save them because they have hoped in him.
Psalms Chapter 37
Domine, ne in furore.
A prayer of a penitent for the remission of his sins.  The third
penitential psalm.
37:1. A psalm for David, for a remembrance of the sabbath.
For a remembrance. . .Viz., of our miseries and sins:  and to be sung on
the sabbath day.
37:2. Rebuke me not, O Lord, in thy indignation; nor chastise me in thy
37:3. For thy arrows are fastened in me:  and thy hand hath been strong
37:4. There is no health in my flesh, because of thy wrath:  there is no
peace for my bones, because of my sins.
37:5. For my iniquities are gone over my head:  and as a heavy burden
are become heavy upon me.
37:6. My sores are putrified and corrupted, because of my foolishness.
37:7. I am become miserable, and am bowed down even to the end:  I
walked sorrowful all the day long.
37:8. For my loins are filled with illusions; and there is no health in
37:9. I am afflicted and humbled exceedingly:  I roared with the
groaning of my heart.
37:10. Lord, all my desire is before thee, and my groaning is not
hidden from thee.
37:11. My heart is troubled, my strength hath left me, and the light of
my eyes itself is not with me.
37:12. My friends and my neighbours have drawn near, and stood against
me.  And they that were near me stood afar off:
37:13. And they that sought my soul used violence.  And they that sought
evils to me spoke vain things, and studied deceits all the day long.
37:14. But I, as a deaf man, heard not:  and as a dumb man not opening
37:15. And I became as a man that heareth not:  and that hath no
reproofs in his mouth.
37:16. For in thee, O Lord, have I hoped:  thou wilt hear me, O Lord my
37:17. For I said:  Lest at any time my enemies rejoice over me:  and
whilst my feet are moved, they speak great things against me.
37:18. For I am ready for scourges:  and my sorrow is continually before
37:19. For I will declare my iniquity:  and I will think for my sin.
37:20. But my enemies live, and are stronger than I:  and they that hate
me wrongfully are multiplied.
37:21. They that render evil for good, have detracted me, because I
followed goodness.
37:22. For sake me not, O Lord my God:  do not thou depart from me.
37:23. Attend unto my help, O Lord, the God of my salvation.
Psalms Chapter 38
Dixi custodiam.
A just man's peace and patience in his sufferings; considering the
vanity of the world, and the providence of God.
38:1. Unto the end, for Idithun himself, a canticle of David.
38:2. I said:  I will take heed to my ways:  that I sin not with my
tongue.  I have set a guard to my mouth, when the sinner stood against
38:3. I was dumb, and was humbled, and kept silence from good things:
and my sorrow was renewed.
38:4. My heart grew hot within me:  and in my meditation a fire shall
38:5. I spoke with my tongue:  O Lord, make me know my end.  And what is
the number of my days:  that I may know what is wanting to me.
38:6. Behold thou hast made my days measurable.  and my substance is as
nothing before thee.  And indeed all things are vanity:  every man
38:7. Surely man passeth as an image:  yea, and he is disquieted in
vain.  He storeth up:  and he knoweth not for whom he shall gather these
38:8. And now what is my hope?  is it not the Lord?  and my substance is
38:9. Deliver thou me from all my iniquities:  thou hast made me a
reproach to the fool.
38:10. I was dumb, and I opened not my mouth, because thou hast done
38:11. Remove thy scourges from me.  The strength of thy hand hath made
me faint in rebukes:
38:12. Thou hast corrected man for iniquity.  And thou hast made his
soul to waste away like a spider:  surely in vain is any man disquieted.
38:13. Hear my prayer, O Lord, and my supplication:  give ear to my
tears.  Be no silent:  for I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner as
all my fathers were.
38:14. O forgive me, that I may be refreshed, before I go hence, and be
Psalms Chapter 39
Expectans expectavi.
Christ's coming, and redeeming mankind.
39:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David himself.
39:2. With expectation I have waited for the Lord, and he was attentive
39:3. And he heard my prayers, and brought me out of the pit of misery
and the mire of dregs.  And he set my feet upon a rock, and directed my
39:4. And he put a new canticle into my mouth, a song to our God.  Many
shall see, and shall fear:  and they shall hope in the Lord.
39:5. Blessed is the man whose trust is in the name of the Lord; and
who hath not had regard to vanities, and lying follies.
39:6. Thou hast multiplied thy wonderful works, O Lord my God:  and in
thy thoughts there is no one like to thee.  I have declared and I have
spoken they are multiplied above number.
39:7. Sacrifice and oblation thou didst not desire; but thou hast
pierced ears for me.  Burnt offering and sin offering thou didst not
39:8. Then said I, Behold I come.  In the head of the book it is written
39:9. That I should do thy will:  O my God, I have desired it, and thy
law in the midst of my heart.
39:10. I have declared thy justice in a great church, lo, I will not
restrain my lips:  O Lord, thou knowest it.
39:11. I have not hid thy justice within my heart:  I have declared thy
truth and thy salvation.  I have not concealed thy mercy and thy truth
from a great council.
39:12. Withhold not thou, O Lord, thy tender mercies from me:  thy mercy
and thy truth have always upheld me.
39:13. For evils without number have surrounded me; my iniquities have
overtaken me, and I was not able to see.  They are multiplied above the
hairs of my head:  and my heart hath forsaken me.
My iniquities. . .That is, the sins of all mankind, which I have taken
39:14. Be pleased, O Lord, to deliver me.  look down, O Lord, to help
39:15. Let them be confounded and ashamed together, that seek after my
soul to take it away.  Let them be turned backward and be ashamed that
desire evils to me.
39:16. Let them immediately bear their confusion, that say to me:  'T is
well, t' is well.
'T is well. . .The Hebrew here is an interjection of insult and
derision, like the Vah.  Matt. 27.49.
39:17. Let all that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee:  and let such
as love thy salvation say always:  The Lord be magnified.
39:18. But I am a beggar and poor:  the Lord is careful for me.  Thou art
my helper and my protector:  O my God, be not slack.
Psalms Chapter 40
Beatus qui intelligit.
The happiness of him that shall believe in Christ; notwithstanding the
humility and poverty in which he shall come:  the malice of his enemies,
especially of the traitor Judas.
40:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David himself.
40:2. Blessed is he that understandeth concerning the needy and the
poor:  the Lord will deliver him in the evil day.
40:3. The Lord preserve him and give him life, and make him blessed
upon the earth:  and deliver him not up to the will of his enemies.
40:4. The Lord help him on his bed of sorrow:  thou hast turned all his
couch in his sickness.
40:5. I said:  O Lord, be thou merciful to me:  heal my soul, for I have
sinned against thee.
40:6. My enemies have spoken evils against me:  when shall he die and
his name perish?
40:7. And if he came in to see me, he spoke vain things:  his heart
gathered together iniquity to itself.  He went out and spoke to the same
40:8. All my enemies whispered together against me:  they devised evils
40:9. They determined against me an unjust word:  shall he that sleepeth
rise again no more?
40:10. For even the man of my peace, in whom I trusted, who ate my
bread, hath greatly supplanted me.
40:11. But thou, O Lord, have mercy on me, and raise my up again:  and I
will requite them.
40:12. By this I know, that thou hast had a good will for me:  because
my enemy shall not rejoice over me.
40:13. But thou hast upheld me by reason of my innocence:  and hast
established me in thy sight for ever.
40:14. Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel from eternity to eternity.
So be it.  So be it.
Psalms Chapter 41
Quemadmodum desiderat.
The fervent desire of the just after God:  hope in afflictions.
41:1. Unto the end, understanding for the sons of Core.
41:2. As the hart panteth after the fountains of water; so my soul
panteth after thee, O God.
41:3. My soul hath thirsted after the strong living God; when shall I
come and appear before the face of God?
41:4. My tears have been my bread day and night, whilst it is said to
me daily:  Where is thy God?
41:5. These things I remembered, and poured out my soul in me:  for I
shall go over into the place of the wonderful tabernacle, even to the
house of God:  With the voice of joy and praise; the noise of one
41:6. Why art thou sad, O my soul?  and why dost thou trouble me?  Hope
in God, for I will still give praise to him:  the salvation of my
countenance,
41:7. And my God.  My soul is troubled within my self:  therefore will I
remember thee from the land of Jordan and Hermoniim, from the little
41:8. Deep calleth on deep, at the noise of thy flood-gates.  All thy
heights and thy billows have passed over me.
41:9. In the daytime the Lord hath commanded his mercy; and a canticle
to him in the night.  With me is prayer to the God of my life.
41:10. I will say to God:  Thou art my support.  Why hast thou forgotten
me?  and why go I mourning, whilst my enemy afflicteth me?
41:11. Whilst my bones are broken, my enemies who trouble me have
reproached me; Whilst they say to me day by day:  Where is thy God?
41:12. Why art thou cast down, O my soul?  and why dost thou disquiet
me?  Hope thou in God, for I will still give praise to him:  the
salvation of my countenance, and my God.
Psalms Chapter 42
Judica me, Deus.
The prophet aspireth after the temple and altar of God.
42:1. A psalm for David.  Judge me, O God, and distinguish my cause from
the nation that is not holy:  deliver me from the unjust and deceitful
42:2. For thou art God my strength:  why hast thou cast me off?  and why
do I go sorrowful whilst the enemy afflicteth me?
42:3. Sent forth thy light and thy truth:  they have conducted me, and
brought me unto thy holy hill, and into thy tabernacles.
42:4. And I will go in to the altar of God:  to God who giveth joy to my
42:5. To thee, O God my God, I will give praise upon the harp:  why art
thou sad, O my soul?  and why dost thou disquiet me?
42:6. Hope in God, for I will still give praise to him:  the salvation
of my countenance, and my God.
Psalms Chapter 43
Deus auribus nostris.
The church commemorates former favours, and present afflictions; under
which she prays for succour.
43:1. Unto the end, for the sons of Core, to give understanding.
43:2. We have heard, O God, with our ears:  our fathers have declared to
us, The work thou hast wrought in their days, and in the days of old.
43:3. Thy hand destroyed the Gentiles, and thou plantedst them:  thou
didst afflict the people and cast them out.
43:4. For they got not the possession of the land by their own sword:
neither did their own arm save them.  But thy right hand and thy arm,
and the light of thy countenance:  because thou wast pleased with them.
43:5. Thou art thyself my king and my God, who commandest the saving of
43:6. Through thee we will push down our enemies with the horn:  and
through thy name we will despise them that rise up against us.
43:7. For I will not trust in my bow:  neither shall my sword save me.
43:8. But thou hast saved us from them that afflict us:  and hast put
them to shame that hate us.
43:9. In God shall we glory all the day long:  and in thy name we will
give praise for ever.
43:10. But now thou hast cast us off, and put us to shame:  and thou , O
God, wilt not go out with our armies.
43:11. Thou hast made us turn our back to our enemies:  and they that
hated us plundered for themselves.
43:12. Thou hast given us up like sheep to be eaten:  thou hast
scattered us among the nations.
43:13. Thou hast sold thy people for no price:  and there was no
reckoning in the exchange of them.
43:14. Thou hast made us a reproach to our neighbours, a scoff and
derision to them that are round about us.
43:15. Thou hast made us a byword among the Gentiles:  a shaking of the
head among the people.
43:16. All the day long my shame is before me:  and the confusion of my
face hath covered me,
43:17. At the voice of him that reproacheth and detracteth me:  at the
face of the enemy and persecutor.
43:18. All these things have come upon us, yet we have not forgotten
thee:  and we have not done wickedly in thy covenant.
43:19. And our heart hath not turned back:  neither hast thou turned
aside our steps from thy way.
43:20. For thou hast humbled us in the place of affliction:  and the
shadow of death hath covered us.
43:21. If we have forgotten the name of our God, and if we have spread
forth our hands to a strange god:
43:22. Shall not God search out these things:  for he knoweth the
secrets of the heart.  Because for thy sake we are killed all the day
long:  we are counted as sheep for the slaughter.
43:23. Arise, why sleepest thou, O Lord?  arise, and cast us not off to
43:24. Why turnest thou thy face away?  and forgettest our want and our
43:25. For our soul is humbled down to the dust:  our belly cleaveth to
43:26. Arise, O Lord, help us and redeem us for thy name's sake.
Psalms Chapter 44
Eructavit cor meum.
The excellence of Christ's kingdom, and the endowments of his church.
44:1. Unto the end, for them that shall be changed, for the sons of
Core, for understanding.  A canticle for the Beloved.
For them that shall be changed. . .i.e., for souls happily changed, by
being converted to God.--Ibid.  The Beloved. . .Viz., Our Lord Jesus
44:2. My heart hath uttered a good word:  I speak my works to the king:
My tongue is the pen of a scrivener that writeth swiftly.
44:3. Thou art beautiful above the sons of men:  grace is poured abroad
in thy lips; therefore hath God blessed thee for ever.
44:4. Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O thou most mighty.
44:5. With thy comeliness and thy beauty set out, proceed prosperously,
and reign.  Because of truth and meekness and justice:  and thy right
hand shall conduct thee wonderfully.
44:6. Thy arrows are sharp:  under thee shall people fall, into the
hearts of the king's enemies.
44:7. Thy throne, O God, is forever and ever:  the sceptre of thy
kingdom is a sceptre of uprightness.
44:8. Thou hast loved justice, and hated iniquity:  therefore God, thy
God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
44:9. Myrrh and stacte and cassia perfume thy garments, from the ivory
houses:  out of which
44:10. The daughters of kings have delighted thee in thy glory.  The
queen stood on thy right hand, in gilded clothing; surrounded with
44:11. Hearken, O daughter, and see, and incline thy ear:  and forget
thy people and thy father's house.
44:12. And the king shall greatly desire thy beauty; for he is the Lord
thy God, and him they shall adore.
44:13. And the daughters of Tyre with gifts, yea, all the rich among
the people, shall entreat thy countenance.
44:14. All the glory of the king's daughter is within in golden
44:15. Clothed round about with varieties.  After her shall virgins be
brought to the king:  her neighbours shall be brought to thee.
44:16. They shall be brought with gladness and rejoicing:  they shall be
brought into the temple of the king.
44:17. Instead of thy fathers, sons are born to thee:  thou shalt make
them princes over all the earth.
44:18. They shall remember thy name throughout all generations.
Therefore shall people praise thee for ever; yea, for ever and ever.
Psalms Chapter 45
Deus noster refugium.
The church in persecution trusteth in the protection of God.
45:1. Unto the end, for the sons of Core, for the hidden.
45:2. Our God is our refuge and strength:  a helper in troubles, which
have found us exceedingly.
45:3. Therefore we will not fear, when the earth shall be troubled; and
the mountains shall be removed into the heart of the sea.
45:4. Their waters roared and were troubled:  the mountains were
troubled with his strength.
45:5. The stream of the river maketh the city of God joyful:  the most
High hath sanctified his own tabernacle.
45:6. God is in the midst thereof, it shall not be moved:  God will help
it in the morning early.
45:7. Nations were troubled, and kingdoms were bowed down:  he uttered
his voice, the earth trembled.
45:8. The Lord of armies is with us:  the God of Jacob is our protector.
45:9. Come and behold ye the works of the Lord:  what wonders he hath
done upon earth,
45:10. Making wars to cease even to the end of the earth.  He shall
destroy the bow, and break the weapons:  and the shield he shall burn in
45:11. Be still and see that I am God; I will be exalted among the
nations, and I will be exalted in the earth.
45:12. The Lord of armies is with us:  the God of Jacob is our
Psalms Chapter 46
Omnes gentes, plaudite.
The Gentiles are invited to praise God for the establishment of the
kingdom of Christ.
46:1. Unto the end, for the sons of Core.
46:2. O clap your hands, all ye nations:  shout unto God with the voice
46:3. For the Lord is high, terrible:  a great king over all the earth.
46:4. He hath subdued the people under us; and the nations under our
46:5. He hath chosen for us his inheritance, the beauty of Jacob which
he hath love.
46:6. God is ascended with jubilee, and the Lord with the sound of
46:7. Sing praises to our God, sing ye:  sing praises to our king, sing
46:8. For God is the king of all the earth:  sing ye wisely.
46:9. God shall reign over the nations:  God sitteth on his holy throne.
46:10. The princes of the people are gathered together, with the God of
Abraham:  for the strong gods of the earth are exceedingly exalted.
Psalms Chapter 47
Magnus Dominus.
God is greatly to be praised for the establishment of his church.
47:1. A psalm of a canticle, for the sons of Core, on the second day of
47:2. Great is the Lord, and exceedingly to be praised in the city of
our God, in his holy mountain.
47:3. With the joy of the whole earth is mount Sion founded, on the
sides of the north, the city of the great king.
47:4. In her houses shall God be known, when he shall protect her.
47:5. For behold the kings of the earth assembled themselves:  they
gathered together.
47:6. So they saw, and they wondered, they were troubled, they were
47:7. Trembling took hold of them.  There were pains as of a woman in
47:8. With a vehement wind thou shalt break in pieces the ships of
47:9. As we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of the Lord of
hosts, in the city of our God:  God hath founded it for ever.
47:10. We have received thy mercy, O God, in the midst of thy temple.
47:11. According to thy name, O God, so also is thy praise unto the
ends of the earth:  thy right hand is full of justice.
47:12. Let mount Sion rejoice, and the daughters of Juda be glad;
because of thy judgments, O Lord.
47:13. Surround Sion, and encompass her:  tell lye in her towers.
47:14. Set your hearts on her strength; and distribute her houses, that
ye may relate it in another generation.
47:15. For this is God, our God unto eternity, and for ever and ever:
he shall rule us for evermore.
Psalms Chapter 48
Audite haec, omnes gentes.
The folly of worldlings, who live on in sin, without thinking of death
48:1. Unto the end, a psalm for the sons of Core.
48:2. Hear these things, all ye nations:  give ear, all ye inhabitants
of the world.
48:3. All you that are earthborn, and you sons of men:  both rich and
poor together.
48:4. My mouth shall speak wisdom:  and the meditation of my heart
understanding.
48:5. I will incline my ear to a parable; I will open my proposition on
the psaltery.
48:6. Why shall I fear in the evil day?  the iniquity of my heel shall
encompass me.
The iniquity of my heel. . .That is, the iniquity of my steps or ways:
or the iniquity of my pride, with which as with the heel, I have
spurned and kicked at my neighbours:  or the iniquity of my heel, that
is, the iniquity in which I shall be found in death.  The meaning of
this verse is, Why should I now indulge those passions and sinful
affections, or commit now those sins, which will cause me so much fear
and anguish in the evil day; when the sorrows of death shall compass
me, and the perils of hell shall find me?
48:7. They that trust in their own strength, and glory in the multitude
of their riches,
They that trust, etc. . .As much as to say, let them fear that trust in
their strength or riches:  for they have great reason to fear:  seeing no
brother or other man, how much a friend soever, can by any price or
labour rescue them from death.
48:8. No brother can redeem, nor shall man redeem:  he shall not give to
God his ransom,
48:9. Nor the price of the redemption of his soul:  and shall labour for
And shall labour for ever, etc. . .This seems to be a continuation of
the foregoing sentence:  as much as to say no man can by any price or
ransom prolong his life, that so he may still continue to labour here,
and live to the end of the world.  Others understand it of the eternal
sorrows, and dying life of hell, which is the dreadful consequence of
dying in sin.
48:10. And shall still live unto the end.
48:11. He shall not see destruction, when he shall see the wise dying:
the senseless and the fool shall perish together:  And they shall leave
their riches to strangers:
He shall not see destruction, etc. . .Or, shall he not see destruction?
As much as to say, however thoughtless he may be of his death, he must
not expect to escape; when even the wise and the good are not exempt
48:12. And their sepulchres shall be their houses for ever.  Their
dwelling places to all generations:  they have called their lands by
their names.
They have called, etc. . .That is, they have left their names on their
graves, which alone remain of their lands.
48:13. And man when he was in honour did not understand; he is compared
to senseless beasts, and is become like to them.
48:14. This way of theirs is a stumblingblock to them:  and afterwards
they shall delight in their mouth.
They shall delight in their mouth. . .Notwithstanding the wretched way
in which they walk, they shall applaud themselves with their mouths,
and glory in their doings.
48:15. They are laid in hell like sheep:  death shall feed upon them.
And the just shall have dominion over them in the morning; and their
help shall decay in hell from their glory.
In the morning. . .That is, in the resurrection to a new life; when the
just shall judge and condemn the wicked.  Ibid.  From their
glory. . .That is, when their short-lived glory in this world shall be
past, and be no more.
48:16. But God will redeem my soul from the hand of hell, when he shall
48:17. Be not thou afraid, when a man shall be made rick, and when the
glory of his house shall be increased.
48:18. For when he shall die he shall take nothing away; nor shall his
glory descend with him.
48:19. For in his lifetime his soul will be blessed:  and he will praise
thee when thou shalt do well to him.
48:20. He shall go in to the generations of his fathers:  and he shall
never see light.
48:21. Man when he was in honour did not understand:  he hath been
compared to senseless beasts, and made like to them.
Psalms Chapter 49
Deus deorum.
The coming of Christ:  who prefers virtue and inward purity before the
blood of victims.
49:1. A psalm for Asaph.  The God of gods, the Lord hath spoken:  and he
hath called the earth.  From the rising of the sun, to the going down
49:2. Out of Sion the loveliness of his beauty.
49:3. God shall come manifestly:  our God shall come, and shall not keep
silence.  A fire shall burn before him:  and a mighty tempest shall be
round about him.
49:4. He shall call heaven from above, and the earth, to judge his
49:5. Gather ye together his saints to him:  who set his covenant before
49:6. And the heavens shall declare his justice:  for God is judge.
49:7. Hear, O my people, and I will speak:  O Israel, and I will testify
to thee:  I am God, thy God.
49:8. I will not reprove thee for thy sacrifices:  and thy burnt
offerings are always in my sight.
49:9. I will not take calves out of thy house:  nor he goats out of thy
49:10. For all the beasts of the woods are mine:  the cattle on the
hills, and the oxen.
49:11. I know all the fowls of the air:  and with me is the beauty of
49:12. If I should be hungry, I would not tell thee:  for the world is
mine, and the fulness thereof.
49:13. Shall I eat the flesh of bullocks?  or shall I drink the blood of
49:14. Offer to God the sacrifice of praise:  and pay thy vows to the
49:15. And call upon me in the day of trouble:  I will deliver thee, and
thou shalt glorify me.
49:16. But to the sinner God hath said:  Why dost thou declare my
justices, and take my covenant in thy mouth?
49:17. Seeing thou hast hated discipline:  and hast cast my words behind
49:18. If thou didst see a thief thou didst run with him:  and with
adulterers thou hast been a partaker.
49:19. Thy mouth hath abounded with evil, and thy tongue framed
49:20. Sitting thou didst speak against thy brother, and didst lay a
scandal against thy mother's son:
49:21. These things hast thou done, and I was silent.  Thou thoughtest
unjustly that I should be like to thee:  but I will reprove thee, and
set before thy face.
49:22. Understand these things, you that forget God; lest he snatch you
away, and there be none to deliver you.
49:23. The sacrifice of praise shall glorify me:  and there is the way
by which I will shew him the salvation of God.
Psalms Chapter 50
The repentance and confession of David after his sin.  The fourth
penitential psalm.
50:1. Unto the end, a psalm of David,
50:2. When Nathan the prophet came to him, after he had sinned with
Bethsabee.  [2 Kings 12.]
50:3. Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy great mercy.  And
according to the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my iniquity.
50:4. Wash me yet more from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
50:5. For I know my iniquity, and my sin is always before me.
50:6. To thee only have I sinned, and have done evil before thee:  that
thou mayst be justified in thy words, and mayst overcome when thou art
50:7. For behold I was conceived in iniquities; and in sins did my
mother conceive me.
50:8. For behold thou hast loved truth:  the uncertain and hidden things
of thy wisdom thou hast made manifest to me.
50:9. Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed:  thou
shalt wash me, and I shall be made whiter than snow.
50:10. To my hearing thou shalt give joy and gladness:  and the bones
that have been humbled shall rejoice.
50:11. Turn away thy face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.
50:12. Create a clean heart in me, O God:  and renew a right spirit
within my bowels.
50:13. Cast me not away from thy face; and take not thy holy spirit
50:14. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and strengthen me with
a perfect spirit.
50:15. I will teach the unjust thy ways:  and the wicked shall be
converted to thee.
50:16. Deliver me from blood, O God, thou God of my salvation:  and my
tongue shall extol thy justice.
50:17. O Lord, thou wilt open my lips:  and my mouth shall declare thy
50:18. For if thou hadst desired sacrifice, I would indeed have given
it:  with burnt offerings thou wilt not be delighted.
50:19. A sacrifice to God is an afflicted spirit:  a contrite and
humbled heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
50:20. Deal favourably, O Lord, in thy good will with Sion; that the
walls of Jerusalem may be built up.
50:21. Then shalt thou accept the sacrifice of justice, oblations and
whole burnt offerings:  then shall they lay calves upon thy altar.
Psalms Chapter 51
Quid gloriaris.
David condemneth the wickedness of Doeg, and foretelleth his
destruction.
51:1. Unto the end, understanding for David,
51:2. When Doeg the Edomite came and told Saul:  David went to the house
of Achimelech.
51:3. Why dost thou glory in malice, thou that art mighty in iniquity?
51:4. All the day long thy tongue hath devised injustice:  as a sharp
razor, thou hast wrought deceit.
51:5. Thou hast loved malice more than goodness:  and iniquity rather
than to speak righteousness.
51:6. Thou hast loved all the words of ruin, O deceitful tongue.
51:7. Therefore will God destroy thee for ever:  he will pluck thee out,
and remove thee from thy dwelling place:  and thy root out of the land
of the living.
51:8. The just shall see and fear, and shall laugh at him, and say:
51:9. Behold the man that made not God his helper:  But trusted in the
abundance of his riches:  and prevailed in his vanity.
51:10. But I, as a fruitful olive tree in the house of God, have hoped
in the mercy of God for ever, yea for ever and ever.
51:11. I will praise thee for ever, because thou hast done it:  and I
will wait on thy name, for it is good in the sight of thy saints.
Psalms Chapter 52
Dixit insipiens.
The general corruption of man before the coming of Christ.
52:1. Unto the end, for Maeleth, understandings to David.  The fool said
in his heart:  There is no God.
Maeleth. . .Or Machalath.  A musical instrument, or a chorus of
musicians, for St. Jerome renders it, per chorum.
52:2. They are corrupted, and become abominable in iniquities:  there is
none that doth good.
52:3. God looked down from heaven on the children of men:  to see if
there were any that did understand, or did seek God.
52:4. All have gone aside, they are become unprofitable together, there
is none that doth good, no not one.
52:5. Shall not all the workers of iniquity know, who eat up my people
as they eat bread?
52:6. They have not called upon God:  there have they trembled for fear,
where there was no fear.  For God hath scattered the bones of them that
please men:  they have been confounded, because God hath despised them.
God hath scattered the bones, etc. . .That is, God has brought to
nothing the strength of all those that seek to please men, to the
prejudice of their duty to their Maker.
52:7. Who will give out of Sion the salvation of Israel?  when God shall
bring back the captivity of his people, Jacob shall rejoice, and Israel
shall be glad.
Psalms Chapter 53
Deus, in nomine tuo.
A prayer for help in distress.
53:1. Unto the end, in verses, understanding for David.
53:2. When the en of Ziph had come and said to Saul:  Is not David
hidden with us?  [1 Kings 23.19]
53:3. Save me, O God, by thy name, and judge me in thy strength.
53:4. O God, hear my prayer:  give ear to the words of my mouth.
53:5. For strangers have risen up against me; and the mighty have
sought after my soul:  and they have not set God before their eyes.
53:6. For behold God is my helper:  and the Lord is the protector of my
53:7. Turn back the evils upon my enemies; and cut them off in thy
53:8. I will freely sacrifice to thee, and will give praise, O God, to
thy name:  because it is good:
53:9. For thou hast delivered me out of all trouble:  and my eye hath
looked down upon my enemies.
Psalms Chapter 54
Exaudi, Deus.
A prayer of a just man under persecution from the wicked.  It agrees to
Christ persecuted by the Jews, and betrayed by Judas.
54:1. Unto the end, in verses, understanding for David.
54:2. Hear, O God, my prayer, and despise not my supplication:
54:3. Be attentive to me and hear me.  I am grieved in my exercise; and
am troubled,
54:4. At the voice of the enemy, and at the tribulation of the sinner.
For they have cast iniquities upon me:  and in wrath they were
troublesome to me.
54:5. My heart is troubled within me:  and the fear of death is fallen
54:6. Fear and trembling are come upon me:  and darkness hath covered
54:7. And I said:  Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly
and be at rest?
54:8. Lo, I have gone far off flying away; and I abode in the
54:9. I waited for him that hath saved me from pusillanimity of spirit,
and a storm.
54:10. Cast down, O Lord, and divide their tongues; for I have seen
iniquity and contradiction in the city.
54:11. Day and night shall iniquity surround it upon its walls:  and in
the midst thereof are labour,
54:12. And injustice.  And usury and deceit have not departed from its
54:13. For if my enemy had reviled me, I would verily have borne with
it.  And if he that hated me had spoken great things against me, I would
perhaps have hidden my self from him.
54:14. But thou a man of one mind, my guide, and my familiar,
54:15. Who didst take sweetmeats together with me:  in the house of God
we walked with consent.
54:16. Let death come upon them, and let them go down alive into hell.
For there is wickedness in their dwellings:  in the midst of them.
Let death, etc. . .This, and such like imprecations which occur in the
psalms, are delivered prophetically; that is, by way of foretelling the
punishments which shall fall upon the wicked from divine justice, and
approving the righteous ways of God:  but not by way of ill will, or
uncharitable curses, which the law of God disallows.
54:17. But I have cried to God:  and the Lord will save me.
54:18. Evening and morning, and at noon I will speak and declare:  and
he shall hear my voice.
54:19. He shall redeem my soul in peace from them that draw near to me:
for among many they were with me.
Among many, etc. . .That is, they that drew near to attack me were many
in company all combined to fight against me.
54:20. God shall hear, and the Eternal shall humble them.  For there is
no change with them, and they have not feared God:
54:21. He hath stretched forth his hand to repay.  They have defiled his
54:22. They are divided by the wrath of his countenance, and his heart
hath drawn near.  His words are smoother than oil, and the same are
They are divided, etc. . .Dispersed, scattered, and brought to nothing,
by the wrath of God; who looks with indignation on their wicked and
deceitful ways.
54:23. Cast thy care upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee:  he shall
not suffer the just to waver for ever.
54:24. But thou, O God, shalt bring them down into the pit of
destruction.  Bloody and deceitful men shall not live out half their
days; but I will trust in thee, O Lord.
Psalms Chapter 55
Miserere mei, Deus.
A prayer of David in danger and distress.
55:1. Unto the end, for a people that is removed at a distance form the
sanctuary:  for David, for an inscription of a title (or pillar) when
the Philistines held him in Geth.
55:2. Have mercy on me, O God, for man hath trodden me under foot; all
the day long he hath afflicted me fighting against me.
55:3. My enemies have trodden on me all the day long; for they are many
that make war against me.
55:4. From the height of the day I shall fear:  but I will trust in
The height of the day. . .That is, even at noonday, when the sun is the
highest, I am still in danger.
55:5. In God I will praise my words, in God I have put my trust:  I will
not fear what flesh can do against me.
My words. . .The words or promises God has made in my favour.
55:6. All the day long they detested my words:  all their thoughts were
against me unto evil.
55:7. They will dwell and hide themselves:  they will watch my heel.  As
they have waited for my soul,
55:8. For nothing shalt thou save them:  in thy anger thou shalt break
the people in pieces.  O God,
For nothing shalt thou save them. . .That is, since they lie in wait to
ruin my soul, thou shalt for no consideration favour or assist them,
but execute thy justice upon them.
55:9. I have declared to thee my life:  thou hast set me tears in thy
sight, As also in thy promise.
55:10. Then shall my enemies be turned back.  In what day soever I shall
call upon thee, behold I know thou art my God.
55:11. In God will I praise the word, in the Lord will I praise his
speech.  In God have I hoped, I will not fear what man can do to me.
55:12. In me, O God, are vows to thee, which I will pay, praises to
55:13. Because thou hast delivered my soul from death, my feet from
falling:  that I may please in the sight of God, in the light of the
Psalms Chapter 56
Miserere mei, Deus.  The prophet prays in his affliction, and praises
God for his delivery.
56:1. Unto the end, destroy not, for David, for an inscription of a
title, when he fled from Saul into the cave.  [1 Kings 24.]
Destroy not. . .Suffer me not to be destroyed.
56:2. Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me:  for my soul trusteth
in thee.  And in the shadow of thy wings will I hope, until iniquity
56:3. I will cry to God the most high; to God who hath done good to me.
56:4. He hath sent from heaven and delivered me:  he hath made them a
reproach that trod upon me.  God hath sent his mercy and his truth,
56:5. And he hath delivered my soul from the midst of the young lions.
I slept troubled.  The sons of men, whose teeth are weapons and arrows,
and their tongue a sharp sword.
56:6. Be thou exalted, O God, above the heavens, and thy glory above
all the earth.
56:7. They prepared a snare for my feet; and they bowed down my soul.
They dug a pit before my face, and they are fallen into it.
56:8. My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready:  I will sing, and
rehearse a psalm.
56:9. Arise, O my glory, arise psaltery and harp:  I will arise early.
56:10. I will give praise to thee, O Lord, among the people:  I will
sing a psalm to thee among the nations.
56:11. For thy mercy is magnified even to the heavens:  and thy truth
unto the clouds.
56:12. Be thou exalted, O God, above the heavens:  and thy glory above
all the earth.
Psalms Chapter 57
Si vere utique.
David reproveth the wicked, and foretelleth their punishment.
57:1. Unto the end, destroy not, for David, for an inscription of a
57:2. If in very deed ye speak justice:  judge right things, ye sons of
57:3. For in your heart you work iniquity:  your hands forge injustice
in the earth.
57:4. The wicked are alienated from the womb; they have gone astray
from the womb:  they have spoken false things.
57:5. Their madness is according to the likeness of a serpent:  like the
deaf asp that stoppeth her ears:
57:6. Which will not hear the voice of the charmers; nor of the wizard
that charmeth wisely.
57:7. God shall break in pieces their teeth in their mouth:  the Lord
shall break the grinders of the lions.
57:8. They shall come to nothing, like water running down; he hath bent
his bow till they be weakened.
57:9. Like wax that melteth they shall be taken away:  fire hath fallen
on them, and they shall not see the sun.
57:10. Before your thorns could know the brier; he swalloweth them up,
as alive, in his wrath.
Before your thorns, etc. . .That is, before your thorns grow up, so as
to become strong briers, they shall be overtaken and consumed by divine
justice, swallowing them up, as it were, alive in his wrath.
57:11. The just shall rejoice when he shall see the revenge:  he shall
wash his hands in the blood of the sinner.
Shall wash his hands, etc. . .Shall applaud the justice of God, and take
occasion from the consideration of the punishment of the wicked to wash
and cleanse his hands from sin.
57:12. And man shall say:  If indeed there be fruit to the just:  there
is indeed a God that judgeth them on the earth.
Psalms Chapter 58
A prayer to be delivered from the wicked, with confidence in God's help
and protection.  It agrees to Christ and his enemies the Jews.
58:1. Unto the end, destroy not, for David for an inscription of a
title, when Saul sent and watched his house to kill him.  [1 Kings 19.]
58:2. Deliver me from my enemies, O my God; and defend me from them
that rise up against me.
58:3. Deliver me from them that work iniquity, and save me from bloody
58:4. For behold they have caught my soul:  the mighty have rushed in
58:5. Neither is it my iniquity, nor my sin, O Lord:  without iniquity
have I run, and directed my steps.
58:6. Rise up thou to meet me, and behold:  even thou, O Lord, the God
of hosts, the God of Israel.  Attend to visit all the nations:  have no
mercy on all them that work iniquity.
58:7. They shall return at evening, and shall suffer hunger like dogs:
and shall go round about the city.
58:8. Behold they shall speak with their mouth, and a sword is in their
lips:  for who, say they, hath heard us?
58:9. But thou, O Lord, shalt laugh at them:  thou shalt bring all the
nations to nothing.
58:10. I will keep my strength to thee:  for thou art my protector:
58:11. My God, his mercy shall prevent me.
58:12. God shall let me see over my enemies:  slay them not, lest at any
time my people forget.  Scatter them by thy power; and bring them down,
O Lord, my protector:
58:13. For the sin of their mouth, and the word of their lips:  and let
them be taken in their pride.  And for their cursing and lying they
shall be talked of,
58:14. When they are consumed:  when they are consumed by thy wrath, and
they shall be no more.  And they shall know that God will rule Jacob,
and all the ends of the earth.
58:15. They shall return at evening and shall suffer hunger like dogs:
and shall go round about the city.
58:16. They shall be scattered abroad to eat, and shall murmur if they
be not filled.
58:17. But I will sing thy strength:  and will extol thy mercy in the
morning.  For thou art become my support, and my refuge, in the day of
58:18. Unto thee, O my helper, will I sing, for thou art God my
defence:  my God my mercy.
Psalms Chapter 59
Deus, repulisti nos.
After many afflictions, the church of Christ shall prevail.
59:1. Unto the end, for them that shall be changed, for the inscription
of a title, to David himself, for doctrine,
59:2. When he set fire to Mesopotamia of Syria and Sobal:  and Joab
returned and slew of Edom, in the vale of the saltpits, twelve thousand
59:3. O God, thou hast cast us off, and hast destroyed us; thou hast
been angry, and hast had mercy on us.
59:4. Thou hast moved the earth, and hast troubled it:  heal thou the
breaches thereof, for it has been moved.
59:5. Thou hast shewn thy people hard things; thou hast made us drink
the wine of sorrow.
59:6. Thou hast given a warning to them that fear thee:  that they may
flee from before the bow:  That thy beloved may be delivered.
59:7. Save me with thy right hand, and hear me.
59:8. God hath spoken in his holy place:  I will rejoice, and I will
divide Sichem; and will mete out the vale of tabernacles.
59:9. Galaad is mine, and Manasses is mine:  and Ephraim is the strength
of my head.  Juda is my king:
59:10. Moab is the pot of my hope.  Into Edom will I stretch out my
shoe:  to me the foreigners are made subject.
The pot of my hope. . .Or my watering pot.  That is, a vessel for meaner
uses, by being reduced to serve me, even in the meanest
employments.--Ibid.  Foreigners. . .So the Philistines are called, who
had no kindred with the Israelites; whereas the Edomites, Moabites, etc.,
were originally of the same family.
59:11. Who will bring me into the strong city?  who will lead me into
59:12. Wilt not thou, O God, who hast cast us off?  and wilt not thou, O
God, go out with our armies?
59:13. Give us help from trouble:  for vain is the salvation of man.
59:14. Through God we shall do mightily:  and he shall bring to nothing
them that afflict us.
Psalms Chapter 60
Exaudi, Deus.
A prayer for the coming of the kingdom of Christ, which shall have no
60:1. Unto the end, in hymns, for David.
60:2. Hear, O God, my supplication:  be attentive to my prayer.
60:3. To thee have I cried from the ends of the earth:  when my heart
was in anguish, thou hast exalted me on a rock.  Thou hast conducted me;
60:4. For thou hast been my hope; a tower of strength against the face
of the enemy.
60:5. In thy tabernacle I shall dwell for ever:  I shall be protected
under the covert of thy wings.
60:6. For thou, my God, hast heard my prayer:  thou hast given an
inheritance to them that fear thy name.
60:7. Thou wilt add days to the days of the king:  his years even to
generation and generation.
60:8. He abideth for ever in the sight of God:  his mercy and truth who
shall search?
60:9. So will I sing a psalm to thy name for ever and ever:  that I may
pay my vows from day to day.
Psalms Chapter 61
The prophet encourageth himself and all others to trust in God, and
61:1. Unto the end, for Idithun, a psalm of David.
61:2. Shall not my soul be subject to God?  for from him is my
61:3. For he is my God and my saviour:  he is my protector, I shall be
moved no more.
61:4. How long do you rush in upon a man?  you all kill, as if you were
thrusting down a leaning wall, and a tottering fence.
61:5. But they have thought to cast away my price; I ran in thirst:
they blessed with their mouth, but cursed with their heart.
61:6. But be thou, O my soul, subject to God:  for from him is my
61:7. For he is my God and my saviour:  he is my helper, I shall not be
61:8. In God is my salvation and my glory:  he is the God of my help,
and my hope is in God.
61:9. Trust in him, all ye congregation of people:  pour out your hearts
before him.  God is our helper for ever.
61:10. But vain are the sons of men, the sons of men are liars in the
balances:  that by vanity they may together deceive.
Are liars in the balances, etc. . .They are so vain and light, that if
they are put into the scales, they will be found to be of no weight;
and to be mere lies, deceit, and vanity.  Or, They are liars in their
balances, by weighing things by false weights, and preferring the
temporal before the eternal.
61:11. Trust not in iniquity, and cover not robberies:  if riches
abound, set not your heart upon them.
61:12. God hath spoken once, these two things have I heard, that power
belongeth to God,
61:13. And mercy to thee, O Lord; for thou wilt render to every man
according to his works.
Psalms Chapter 62
Deus Deus meus, ad te.
The prophet aspireth after God.
62:1. A psalm of David while he was in the desert of Edom.
62:2. O God, my God, to thee do I watch at break of day.  For thee my
soul hath thirsted; for thee my flesh, O how many ways!
62:3. In a desert land, and where there is no way, and no water:  so in
the sanctuary have I come before thee, to see thy power and thy glory.
62:4. For thy mercy is better than lives:  thee my lips will praise.
62:5. Thus will I bless thee all my life long:  and in thy name I will
lift up my hands.
62:6. Let my soul be filled as with marrow and fatness:  and my mouth
shall praise thee with joyful lips.
62:7. If I have remembered thee upon my bed, I will meditate on thee in
the morning:
62:8. Because thou hast been my helper.  And I will rejoice under the
covert of thy wings:
62:9. My soul hath stuck close to thee:  thy right hand hath received
62:10. But they have fought my soul in vain, they shall go into the
lower parts of the earth:
62:11. They shall be delivered into the hands of the sword, they shall
be the portions of foxes.
62:12. But the king shall rejoice in God, all they shall be praised
that swear by him:  because the mouth is stopped of them that speak
wicked things.
Psalms Chapter 63
Exaudi Deus orationem.
A prayer in affliction, with confidence in God that he will bring to
nought the machinations of persecutors.
63:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David.
63:2. Hear O God, my prayer, when I make supplication to thee:  deliver
my soul from the fear of the enemy.
63:3. Thou hast protected me from the assembly of the malignant; from
the multitude of the workers of iniquity.
63:4. For they have whetted their tongues like a sword; they have bent
their bow a bitter thing,
63:5. To shoot in secret the undefiled.
63:6. They will shoot at him on a sudden, and will not fear:  they are
resolute in wickedness.  They have talked of hiding snares; they have
said:  Who shall see them?
63:7. They have searched after iniquities:  they have failed in their
search.  Man shall come to a deep heart:
A deep heart. . .That is, crafty, subtle, deep projects and designs;
which nevertheless shall not succeed; for God shall be exalted in
bringing them to nought by his wisdom and power.
63:8. And God shall be exalted.  The arrows of children are their
The arrows of children are their wounds. . .That is, the wounds,
stripes, or blows, they seek to inflict upon the just, are but like the
weak efforts of children's arrows, which can do no execution:  and their
tongues, that is, their speeches against them come to nothing.
63:9. And their tongues against them are made weak.  All that saw them
were troubled;
63:10. And every man was afraid.  And they declared the works of God,
and understood his doings.
63:11. The just shall rejoice in the Lord, and shall hope in him:  and
all the upright in heart shall be praised.
Psalms Chapter 64
God is to be praised in his church, to which all nations shall be
64:1. To the end, a psalm of David.  The canticle of Jeremias and
Ezechiel to the people of the captivity, when they began to go out.
Of the captivity. . .That is, the people of the captivity of Babylon.
This is not in the Hebrew, but is found in the ancient translation of
the Septuagint.
64:2. A hymn, O God, becometh thee in Sion:  and a vow shall be paid to
thee in Jerusalem.
64:3. O hear my prayer:  all flesh shall come to thee.
64:4. The words of the wicked have prevailed over us:  and thou wilt
pardon our transgressions.
64:5. Blessed is he whom thou hast chosen and taken to thee:  he shall
dwell in thy courts.  We shall be filled with the good things of thy
house; holy is thy temple,
64:6. Wonderful in justice.  Hear us, O God our saviour, who art the
hope of all the ends of the earth, and in the sea afar off.
64:7. Thou who preparest the mountains by thy strength, being girded
64:8. Who troublest the depth of the sea, the noise of its waves.  The
Gentiles shall be troubled,
64:9. And they that dwell in the uttermost borders shall be afraid at
thy signs:  thou shalt make the outgoings of the morning and of the
evening to be joyful.
64:10. Thou hast visited the earth, and hast plentifully watered it;
thou hast many ways enriched it.  The river of God is filled with water,
thou hast prepared their food:  for so is its preparation.
64:11. Fill up plentifully the streams thereof, multiply its fruits; it
shall spring up and rejoice in its showers.
64:12. Thou shalt bless the crown of the year of thy goodness:  and thy
fields shall be filled with plenty.
64:13. The beautiful places of the wilderness shall grow fat:  and the
hills shall be girded about with joy,
64:14. The rams of the flock are clothed, and the vales shall abound
with corn:  they shall shout, yea they shall sing a hymn.
Psalms Chapter 65
Jubilate Deo.
An invitation to praise God.
65:1. Unto the end, a canticle of a psalm of the resurrection.  Shout
with joy to God, all the earth,
65:2. Sing ye a psalm to his name; give glory to his praise.
65:3. Say unto God, How terrible are thy works, O Lord! in the
multitude of thy strength thy enemies shall lie to thee.
65:4. Let all the earth adore thee, and sing to thee:  let it sing a
psalm to thy name.
65:5. Come and see the works of God; who is terrible in his counsels
over the sons of men.
65:6. Who turneth the sea into dry land, in the river they shall pass
on foot:  there shall we rejoice in him.
65:7. Who by his power ruleth for ever:  his eyes behold the nations;
let not them that provoke him be exalted in themselves.
65:8. O bless our God, ye Gentiles:  and make the voice of his praise to
65:9. Who hath set my soul to live:  and hath not suffered my feet to be
65:10. For thou, O God, hast proved us:  thou hast tried us by fire, as
silver is tried.
65:11. Thou hast brought us into a net, thou hast laid afflictions on
65:12. Thou hast set men over our heads.  We have passed through fire
and water, and thou hast brought us out into a refreshment.
65:13. I will go into thy house with burnt offerings:  I will pay thee
65:14. Which my lips have uttered, And my mouth hath spoken, when I was
65:15. I will offer up to thee holocausts full of marrow, with burnt
offerings of rams:  I will offer to thee bullocks with goats.
65:16. Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will tell you what
great things he hath done for my soul.
65:17. I cried to him with my mouth:  and I extolled him with my tongue.
65:18. If I have looked at iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear
65:19. Therefore hath God heard me, and hath attended to the voice of
my supplication.
65:20. Blessed be God, who hath not turned away my prayer, nor his
mercy from me.
Psalms Chapter 66
Deus misereatur.
A prayer for the propagation of the church.
66:1. Unto the end, in hymns, a psalm of a canticle for David.
66:2. May God have mercy on us, and bless us:  may he cause the light of
his countenance to shine upon us, and may he have mercy on us.
66:3. That we may know thy way upon earth:  thy salvation in all
66:4. Let people confess to thee, O God:  let all people give praise to
66:5. Let the nations be glad and rejoice:  for thou judgest the people
with justice, and directest the nations upon earth.
66:6. Let the people, O God, confess to thee:  let all the people give
praise to thee:
66:7. The earth hath yielded her fruit.  May God, our God bless us,
66:8. May God bless us:  and all the ends of the earth fear him.
Psalms Chapter 67
Exurgat Deus.
The glorious establishment of the church of the New Testament,
prefigured by the benefits bestowed on the people of Israel.
67:1. Unto the end, a psalm of a canticle for David himself.
67:2. Let God arise, and let his enemies be scattered:  and let them
that hate him flee from before his face.
67:3. As smoke vanisheth, so let them vanish away:  as wax melteth
before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God.
67:4. And let the just feast, and rejoice before God:  and be delighted
with gladness.
67:5. Sing ye to God, sing a psalm to his name, make a way for him who
ascendeth upon the west:  the Lord is his name.  Rejoice ye before him:
but the wicked shall be troubled at his presence,
Who ascendeth upon the west. . .Super occasum.  St. Gregory understands
it of Christ, who after his going down, like the sun, in the west, by
his passion and death, ascended more glorious, and carried all before
him.  St. Jerome renders it, who ascendeth, or cometh up, through the
67:6. Who is the father of orphans, and the judge of widows.  God in his
67:7. God who maketh men of one manner to dwell in a house:  Who
bringeth out them that were bound in strength; in like manner them that
provoke, that dwell in sepulchres.
Of one manner. . .That is, agreeing in faith, unanimous in love, and
following the same manner of discipline.  It is verified in the servants
of God, living together in his house, which is the church.  1 Tim.
3.15.--Ibid.  Them that were bound, etc. . .The power and mercy of God
appears in his bringing out of their captivity those that were strongly
bound in their sins:  and in restoring to his grace those whose
behaviour had been most provoking; and who by their evil habits were
not only dead, but buried in their sepulchres.
67:8. O God, when thou didst go forth in the sight of thy people, when
thou didst pass through the desert:
67:9. The earth was moved, and the heavens dropped at the presence of
the God of Sina, at the presence of the God of Israel.
67:10. Thou shalt set aside for thy inheritance a free rain, O God:  and
it was weakened, but thou hast made it perfect.
A free rain. . .the manna, which rained plentifully from heaven, in
favour of God's inheritance, that is, of his people Israel:  which was
weakened indeed under a variety of afflictions, but was made perfect by
God; that is, was still supported by divine providence, and brought on
to the promised land.  It agrees particularly to the church of Christ
his true inheritance, which is plentifully watered with the free rain
of heavenly grace; and through many infirmities, that is, crosses and
tribulations, is made perfect, and fitted for eternal glory.
67:11. In it shall thy animals dwell; in thy sweetness, O God, thou
hast provided for the poor.
In it, etc. . .That is, in this church, which is thy fold and thy
inheritance, shall thy animals, thy sheep, dwell:  where thou hast
plentifully provided for them.
67:12. The Lord shall give the word to them that preach good tidings
with great power.
To them that preach good tidings. . .Evangelizantibus.  That is, to the
preachers of the gospel; who receiving the word from the Lord, shall
with great power and efficacy preach throughout the world the glad
tidings of a Saviour, and of eternal salvation through him.
67:13. The king of powers is of the beloved, of the beloved; and the
beauty of the house shall divide spoils.
The king of powers. . .That is, the mighty King, the Lord of hosts, is
of the beloved, of the beloved; that is, is on the side of Christ, his
most beloved son:  and his beautiful house, viz., the church, in which
God dwells forever, shall by her spiritual conquests divide the spoils
of many nations.  The Hebrew (as it now stands pointed) is thus
rendered, The kings of armies have fled, they have fled, and she that
dwells at home (or the beauty of the house) shall divide the spoils.
67:14. If you sleep among the midst of lots, you shall be as the wings
of a dove covered with silver, and the hinder parts of her back with
the paleness of gold.
If you sleep among the midst of lots (intermedios cleros, etc.). . .Viz.,
in such dangers and persecutions, as if your enemies were casting
lots for your goods and persons:  or in the midst of the lots,
(intermedios terminos, as St. Jerome renders it,) that is, upon the
very bounds or borders of the dominions of your enemies:  you shall be
secure nevertheless under the divine protection; and shall be enabled
to fly away, like a dove, with glittering wings and feathers shining
like the palest and most precious gold; that is, with great increase of
virtue, and glowing with the fervour of charity.
67:15. When he that is in heaven appointeth kings over her, they shall
be whited with snow in Selmon.
Kings over her. . .That is, pastors and rulers over his church, viz.,
the apostles and their successors.  Then by their ministry shall men be
made whiter than the snow which lies on the top of the high mountain
67:16. The mountain of God is a fat mountain.  A curdled mountain, a fat
The mountain of God. . .The church, which, Isa. 2.2, is called The
mountain of the house of the Lord upon the top of mountains.  It is here
called a fat and a curdled mountain; that is to say, most fruitful, and
enriched by the spiritual gifts and graces of the Holy Ghost.
67:17. Why suspect, ye curdled mountains?  A mountain in which God is
well pleased to dwell:  for there the Lord shall dwell unto the end.
Why suspect, ye curdled mountains?. . .Why do you suppose or imagine
there may be any other such curdled mountains?  You are mistaken:  the
mountain thus favoured by God is but one; and this same he has chosen
for his dwelling for ever.
67:18. The chariot of God is attended by ten thousands; thousands of
them that rejoice:  the Lord is among them in Sina, in the holy place.
The chariot of God. . .Descending to give his law on mount Sina:  as also
of Jesus Christ his Son, ascending into heaven, to send from thence the
Holy Ghost, to publish his new law, is attended with ten thousands,
that is, with an innumerable multitude of joyful angels.
67:19. Thou hast ascended on high, thou hast led captivity captive;
thou hast received gifts in men.  Yea for those also that do not
believe, the dwelling of the Lord God.
Led captivity captive. . .Carrying away with thee to heaven those who
before had been the captives of Satan; and receiving from God the
Father gifts to be distributed to men; even to those who were before
unbelievers.
67:20. Blessed be the Lord day by day:  the God of our salvation will
make our journey prosperous to us.
67:21. Our God is the God of salvation:  and of the Lord, of the Lord
are the issues from death.
The issues from death. . .The Lord alone is master of the issues, by
which we may escape from death.
67:22. But God shall break the heads of his enemies:  the hairy crown of
them that walk on in their sins.
67:23. The Lord said:  I will turn them from Basan, I will turn them
into the depth of the sea:
I will turn them from Basan, etc. . .I will cast out my enemies from
their rich possessions, signified by Basan, a fruitful country; and I
will drive them into the depth of the sea:  and make such a slaughter of
them, that the feet of my servants may be dyed in their blood, etc.
67:24. That thy foot may be dipped in the blood of thy enemies; the
tongue of thy dogs be red with the same.
67:25. They have seen thy goings, O God, the goings of my God:  of my
king who is in his sanctuary.
Thy goings. . .Thy ways, thy proceedings, by which thou didst formerly
take possession of the promised land in favour of thy people; and shalt
afterwards of the whole world, which thou shalt subdue to thy Son.
67:26. Princes went before joined with singers, in the midst of young
damsels playing on timbrels.
Princes. . .The apostles, the first converters of nations; attended by
numbers of perfect souls, singing the divine praises, and virgins
consecrated to God.
67:27. In the churches bless ye God the Lord, from the fountains of
From the fountains of Israel. . .From whom both Christ and his apostles
sprung.  By Benjamin, the holy fathers on this place understand St.
Paul, who was of that tribe, named here a youth, because he was the
last called to the apostleship.  By the princes of Juda, Zabulon, and
Nephthali, we may understand the other apostles, who were of the tribe
of Juda; or of the tribes of Zabulon, and Nephthali, where our Lord
began to preach, Matt. 4.13, etc.
67:28. There is Benjamin a youth, in ecstasy of mind.  The princes of
Juda are their leaders:  the princes of Zabulon, the princes of
67:29. Command thy strength, O God confirm, O God, what thou hast
wrought in us.
Command thy strength. . .Give orders that thy strength may be always with
67:30. From thy temple in Jerusalem, kings shall offer presents to
67:31. Rebuke the wild beasts of the reeds, the congregation of bulls
with the kine of the people; who seek to exclude them who are tried
with silver.  Scatter thou the nations that delight in wars:
Rebuke the wild beasts of the reeds. . .or the wild beasts, which lie
hid in the reeds.  That is, the devils, who hide themselves in order to
surprise their prey.  Or by wild beasts, are here understood
persecutors, who, for all their attempts against the Church, are but as
weak reeds, which cannot prevail against them who are supported by the
strength of the Almighty.  The same are also called the congregation of
bulls (from their rage against the Church) who assemble together all
their kine, that is, the people their subjects, to exclude if they can,
from Christ and his inheritance, his constant confessors, who are like
silver tried by fire.
67:32. Ambassadors shall come out of Egypt:  Ethiopia shall soon stretch
out her hands to God.
Ambassadors shall come, etc. . .It is a prophecy of the conversion of
the Gentiles, and by name of the Egyptians and Ethiopians.
67:33. Sing to God, ye kingdoms of the earth:  sing ye to the Lord:  Sing
67:34. Who mounteth above the heaven of heavens, to the east.  Behold he
will give to his voice the voice of power:
To the east. . .From mount Olivet, which is on the east side of
Jerusalem.--Ibid.  The voice of power. . .That is, he will make his voice
to be a powerful voice:  by calling from death to life, such as were
dead in mortal sin:  as at the last day he will by the power of his
voice call all the dead from their graves.
67:35. Give ye glory to God for Israel, his magnificence, and his power
is in the clouds.
67:36. God is wonderful in his saints:  the God of Israel is he who will
give power and strength to his people.  Blessed be God.
Psalms Chapter 68
Salvum me fac, Deus.
Christ in his passion declareth the greatness of his sufferings, and
the malice of his persecutors the Jews; and foretelleth their
reprobation.
68:1. Unto the end, for them that shall be changed; for David.
For them that shall be changed. . .A psalm for Christian converts, to
remember the passion of Christ.
68:2. Save me, O God:  for the waters are come in even unto my soul.
The waters. . .Of afflictions and sorrows.  My soul is sorrowful even
unto death.  Matt. 26.38.
68:3. I stick fast in the mire of the deep and there is no sure
standing.  I am come into the depth of the sea, and a tempest hath
overwhelmed me.
68:4. I have laboured with crying; my jaws are become hoarse, my eyes
have failed, whilst I hope in my God.
68:5. They are multiplied above the hairs of my head, who hate me
without cause.  My enemies are grown strong who have wrongfully
persecuted me:  then did I pay that which I took not away.
I pay that which I took not away. . .Christ in his passion made
restitution of what he had not taken away, by suffering the punishment
due to our sins, and so repairing the injury we had done to God.
68:6. O God, thou knowest my foolishness; and my offences are not
hidden from thee:
My foolishness and my offences. . .which my enemies impute to me:  or the
follies and sins of men, which I have taken upon myself.
68:7. Let not them be ashamed for me, who look for thee, O Lord, the
Lord of hosts.  Let them not be confounded on my account, who seek thee,
O God of Israel.
68:8. Because for thy sake I have borne reproach; shame hath covered my
68:9. I am become a stranger to my brethren, and an alien to the sons
of my mother.
68:10. For the zeal of thy house hath eaten me up:  and the reproaches
of them that reproached thee are fallen upon me.
68:11. And I covered my soul in fasting:  and it was made a reproach to
68:12. And I made haircloth my garment:  and I became a byword to them.
68:13. They that sat in the gate spoke against me:  and they that drank
wine made me their song.
68:14. But as for me, my prayer is to thee, O Lord; for the time of thy
good pleasure, O God.  In the multitude of thy mercy hear me, in the
truth of thy salvation.
68:15. Draw me out of the mire, that I may not stick fast:  deliver me
from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters.
68:16. Let not the tempest of water drown me, nor the deep water
swallow me up:  and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me.
68:17. Hear me, O Lord, for thy mercy is kind; look upon me according
to the multitude of thy tender mercies.
68:18. And turn not away thy face from thy servant:  for I am in
trouble, hear me speedily.
68:19. Attend to my soul, and deliver it:  save me because of my
68:20. Thou knowest my reproach, and my confusion, and my shame.
68:21. In thy sight are all they that afflict me; my heart hath
expected reproach and misery.  And I looked for one that would grieve
together with me, but there was none:  and for one that would comfort
me, and I found none.
68:22. And they gave me gall for my food, and in my thirst they gave me
vinegar to drink.
68:23. Let their table become as a snare before them, and a recompense,
and a stumblingblock.
Let their table, etc. . .What here follows in the style of an
imprecation, is a prophecy of the wretched state to which the Jews
should be reduced in punishment of their wilful obstinacy.
68:24. Let their eyes be darkened that they see not; and their back
bend thou down always.
68:25. Pour out thy indignation upon them:  and let thy wrathful anger
take hold of them.
68:26. Let their habitation be made desolate:  and let there be none to
dwell in their tabernacles.
68:27. Because they have persecuted him whom thou hast smitten; and
they have added to the grief of my wounds.
68:28. Add thou iniquity upon their iniquity:  and let them not come
into thy justice.
68:29. Let them be blotted out of the book of the living; and with the
just let them not be written.
68:30. But I am poor and sorrowful:  thy salvation, O God, hath set me
68:31. I will praise the name of God with a canticle:  and I will
magnify him with praise.
68:32. And it shall please God better than a young calf, that bringeth
forth horns and hoofs.
68:33. Let the poor see and rejoice:  seek ye God, and your soul shall
68:34. For the Lord hath heard the poor:  and hath not despised his
68:35. Let the heavens and the earth praise him; the sea, and every
thing that creepeth therein.
68:36. For God will save Sion, and the cities of Juda shall be built
up.  And they shall dwell there, and acquire it by inheritance.
Sion. . .The catholic church.  The cities of Juda, etc., her places of
worship, which shall be established throughout the world.  And there,
viz., in this church of Christ, shall his servants dwell, etc.
68:37. And the seed of his servants shall possess it; and they that
love his name shall dwell therein.
Psalms Chapter 69
Deus in adjutorium.
A prayer in persecution.
69:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David, to bring to remembrance that the
Lord saved him.
69:2. O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me.
69:3. Let them be confounded and ashamed that seek my soul:
69:4. Let them be turned backward, and blush for shame that desire
evils to me:  Let them be presently turned away blushing for shame that
say to me:  'Tis well, 'tis well.
'T is well, 't is well. . .Euge, euge.  St. Jerome renders it, vah, vah!
which is the voice of one insulting and deriding.  Some understand it as
a detestation of deceitful flatterers.
69:5. Let all that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee; and let such
as love thy salvation say always:  The Lord be magnified.
69:6. But I am needy and poor; O God, help me.  Thou art my helper and
my deliverer:  O lord, make no delay.
Psalms Chapter 70
In te, Domine.
A prayer for perseverance.
70:1. A psalm for David.  Of the sons of Jonadab, and the former
captives.  In thee, O Lord, I have hoped, let me never be put to
Of the sons of Jonadab. . .The Rechabites, of whom see Jer. 35.  By this
addition of the seventy-two interpreters, we gather that this psalm was
usually sung in the synagogue, in the person of the Rechabites, and of
those who were first carried away into captivity.
70:2. Deliver me in thy justice, and rescue me.  Incline thy ear unto
me, and save me.
70:3. Be thou unto me a God, a protector, and a place of strength:  that
thou mayst make me safe.  For thou art my firmament and my refuge.
70:4. Deliver me, O my God, out of the hand of the sinner, and out of
the hand of the transgressor of the law and of the unjust.
70:5. For thou art my patience, O Lord:  my hope, O Lord, from my youth.
70:6. By thee have I been confirmed from the womb:  from my mother's
womb thou art my protector.  Of thee I shall continually sing:
70:7. I am become unto many as a wonder, but thou art a strong helper.
70:8. Let my mouth be filled with praise, that I may sing thy glory;
thy greatness all the day long.
70:9. Cast me not off in the time of old age:  when my strength shall
fail, do not thou forsake me.
70:10. For my enemies have spoken against me; and they that watched my
soul have consulted together,
70:11. Saying:  God hath forsaken him:  pursue and take him, for there is
none to deliver him.
70:12. O God, be not thou far from me:  O my God, make haste to my help.
70:13. Let them be confounded and come to nothing that detract my soul;
let them be covered with confusion and blame that seek my hurt.
70:14. But I will always hope; and will add to all thy praise.
70:15. My mouth shall shew forth thy justice; thy salvation all the day
long.  Because I have not known learning,
Learning. . .As much as to say, I build not upon human learning, but
only on the power and justice of God.
70:16. I will enter into the powers of the Lord:  O Lord, I will be
mindful of thy justice alone.
70:17. Thou hast taught me, O God, from my youth:  and till now I will
declare thy wonderful works.
70:18. And unto old age and grey hairs:  O God, forsake me not, Until I
shew forth thy arm to all the generation that is to come:  Thy power,
70:19. And thy justice, O God, even to the highest great things thou
hast done:  O God, who is like to thee?
70:20. How great troubles hast thou shewn me, many and grievous:  and
turning thou hast brought me to life, and hast brought me back again
from the depths of the earth:
70:21. Thou hast multiplied thy magnificence; and turning to me thou
hast comforted me.
70:22. For I will also confess to thee thy truth with the instruments
of psaltery:  O God, I will sing to thee with the harp, thou holy one of
70:23. My lips shall greatly rejoice, when I shall sing to thee; and my
soul which thou hast redeemed.
70:24. Yea and my tongue shall meditate on thy justice all the day;
when they shall be confounded and put to shame that seek evils to me.
Psalms Chapter 71
Deus, judicium tuum.
A prophecy of the coming of Christ, and of his kingdom:  prefigured by
Solomon and his happy reign.
71:1. A psalm on Solomon.
71:2. Give to the king thy judgment, O God, and to the king's son thy
justice:  To judge thy people with justice, and thy poor with judgment.
71:3. Let the mountains receive peace for the people:  and the hills
71:4. He shall judge the poor of the people, and he shall save the
children of the poor:  and he shall humble the oppressor.
71:5. And he shall continue with the sun and before the moon,
throughout all generations.
71:6. He shall come down like rain upon the fleece; and as showers
falling gently upon the earth.
71:7. In his days shall justice spring up, and abundance of peace, till
the moon be taken away.
71:8. And he shall rule from sea to sea, and from the river unto the
ends of the earth.
71:9. Before him the Ethiopians shall fall down:  and his enemies shall
lick the ground.
71:10. The kings of Tharsis and the islands shall offer presents:  the
kings of the Arabians and of Saba shall bring gifts:
71:11. And all kings of the earth shall adore him:  all nations shall
71:12. For he shall deliver the poor from the mighty:  and the needy
that had no helper.
71:13. He shall spare the poor and needy:  and he shall save the souls
of the poor.
71:14. He shall redeem their souls from usuries and iniquity:  and their
names shall be honourable in his sight.
71:15. And he shall live, and to him shall be given of the gold of
Arabia, for him they shall always adore:  they shall bless him all the
71:16. And there shall be a firmament on the earth on the tops of
mountains, above Libanus shall the fruit thereof be exalted:  and they
of the city shall flourish like the grass of the earth.
A firmament on the earth, etc. . .This may be understood of the church
of Christ, ever firm and visible:  and of the flourishing condition of
its congregation.
71:17. Let his name be blessed for evermore:  his name continueth before
the sun.  And in him shall all the tribes of the earth be blessed:  all
nations shall magnify him.
71:18. Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone doth wonderful
71:19. And blessed be the name of his majesty for ever:  and the whole
earth shall be filled with his majesty.  So be it.  So be it.
71:20. The praises of David, the son of Jesse, are ended.
Are ended. . .By this it appears that this psalm, though placed here,
was in order of time the last of those which David composed.
Psalms Chapter 72
Quam bonus Israel Deus.
The temptation of the weak, upon seeing the prosperity of the wicked,
is overcome by the consideration of the justice of God, who will
quickly render to every one according to his works.
72:1. A psalm for Asaph.  How good is God to Israel, to them that are of
a right heart!
72:2. But my feet were almost moved; my steps had well nigh slipped.
72:3. Because I had a zeal on occasion of the wicked, seeing the
prosperity of sinners.
72:4. For there is no regard to their death, nor is there strength in
their stripes.
72:5. They are not in the labour of men:  neither shall they be scourged
like other men.
72:6. Therefore pride hath held them fast:  they are covered with their
iniquity and their wickedness.
72:7. Their iniquity hath come forth, as it were from fatness:  they
have passed into the affection of the heart.
Fatness. . .Abundance and temporal prosperity, which hath encouraged
them in their iniquity:  and made them give themselves up to their
irregular affections.
72:8. They have thought and spoken wickedness:  they have spoken
iniquity on high.
72:9. They have set their mouth against heaven:  and their tongue hath
passed through the earth.
72:10. Therefore will my people return here and full days shall be
found in them.
Return here. . .or hither.  The weak among the servants of God, will be
apt often to return to this thought, and will be shocked when they
consider the full days, that is, the long and prosperous life of the
wicked; and will be tempted to make the reflections against providence
which are set down in the following verses.
72:11. And they said:  How doth God know?  and is there knowledge in the
72:12. Behold these are sinners; and yet, abounding in the world they
have obtained riches.
72:13. And I said:  Then have I in vain justified my heart, and washed
my hands among the innocent.
72:14. And I have been scourged all the day; and my chastisement hath
been in the mornings.
72:15. If I said:  I will speak thus; behold I should condemn the
generation of thy children.
If I said, etc. . .That is, if I should indulge such thoughts as these.
72:16. I studied that I might know this thing, it is a labour in my
72:17. Until I go into the sanctuary of God, and understand concerning
their last ends.
72:18. But indeed for deceits thou hast put it to them:  when they were
lifted up thou hast cast them down.
Thou hast put it to them. . .In punishment of their deceits, or for
deceiving them, thou hast brought evils upon them in their last end,
which, in their prosperity they never apprehended.
72:19. How are they brought to desolation?  they have suddenly ceased to
be:  they have perished by reason of their iniquity.
72:20. As the dream of them that awake, O Lord; so in thy city thou
shalt bring their image to nothing.
72:21. For my heart hath been inflamed, and my reins have been changed:
72:22. And I am brought to nothing, and I knew not.
72:23. I am become as a beast before thee:  and I am always with thee.
72:24. Thou hast held me by my right hand; and by thy will thou hast
conducted me, and with thy glory thou hast received me.
72:25. For what have I in heaven?  and besides thee what do I desire
72:26. For thee my flesh and my heart hath fainted away:  thou art the
God of my heart, and the God that is my portion for ever.
72:27. For behold they that go far from thee shall perish:  thou hast
destroyed all them that are disloyal to thee.
72:28. But it is good for me to adhere to my God, to put my hope in the
Lord God:  That I may declare all thy praises, in the gates of the
daughter of Sion.
Psalms Chapter 73
Ut quid, Deus.
A prayer of the church under grievous persecutions.
73:1. Understanding for Asaph.  O God, why hast thou cast us off unto
the end:  why is thy wrath enkindled against the sheep of thy pasture?
73:2. Remember thy congregation, which thou hast possessed from the
beginning.  The sceptre of thy inheritance which thou hast redeemed:
mount Sion in which thou hast dwelt.
73:3. Lift up thy hands against their pride unto the end; see what
things the enemy hath done wickedly in the sanctuary.
73:4. And they that hate thee have made their boasts, in the midst of
thy solemnity.  They have set up their ensigns for signs,
Their ensigns, etc. . .They have fixed their colours for signs and
trophies, both on the gates, and on the highest top of the temple:  and
they knew not, that is, they regarded not the sanctity of the place.
This psalm manifestly foretells the time of the Machabees, and the
profanation of the temple by Antiochus.
73:5. And they knew not both in the going out and on the highest top.
As with axes in a wood of trees,
73:6. They have cut down at once the gates thereof, with axe and
hatchet they have brought it down.
73:7. They have set fire to thy sanctuary:  they have defiled the
dwelling place of thy name on the earth.
73:8. They said in their heart, the whole kindred of them together:  Let
us abolish all the festival days of God from the land.
73:9. Our signs we have not seen, there is now no prophet:  and he will
know us no more.
73:10. How long, O God, shall the enemy reproach:  is the adversary to
provoke thy name for ever?
73:11. Why dost thou turn away thy hand:  and thy right hand out of the
midst of thy bosom for ever?
73:12. But God is our king before ages:  he hath wrought salvation in
the midst of the earth.
73:13. Thou by thy strength didst make the sea firm:  thou didst crush
the heads of the dragons in the waters.
The sea firm. . .By making the waters of the Red Sea stand like firm
walls, whilst Israel passed through:  and destroying the Egyptians
called here dragons from their cruelty, in the same waters, with their
king:  casting up their bodies on the shore to be stripped by the
Ethiopians inhabiting in those days the coast of Arabia.
73:14. Thou hast broken the heads of the dragon:  thou hast given him to
be meat for the people of the Ethiopians.
73:15. Thou hast broken up the fountains and the torrents:  thou hast
dried up the Ethan rivers.
Ethan rivers. . .That is, rivers which run with strong streams.  This was
verified in Jordan, Jos. 3, and in Arnon, Num. 21.14.
73:16. Thine is the day, and thine is the night:  thou hast made the
morning light and the sun.
73:17. Thou hast made all the borders of the earth:  the summer and the
spring were formed by thee.
73:18. Remember this, the enemy hath reproached the Lord:  and a foolish
people hath provoked thy name.
73:19. Deliver not up to beasts the souls that confess to thee:  and
forget not to the end the souls of thy poor.
73:20. Have regard to thy covenant:  for they that are the obscure of
the earth have been filled with dwellings of iniquity.
The obscure of the earth. . .Mean and ignoble wretches have been filled,
that is, enriched, with houses of iniquity, that is, with our estates
and possessions, which they have unjustly acquired.
73:21. Let not the humble be turned away with confusion:  the poor and
needy shall praise thy name.
73:22. Arise, O God, judge thy own cause:  remember thy reproaches with
which the foolish man hath reproached thee all the day.
73:23. Forget not the voices of thy enemies:  the pride of them that
hate thee ascendeth continually.
Psalms Chapter 74
Confitebimur tibi.
There is a just judgment to come:  therefore let the wicked take care.
74:1. Unto the end, corrupt not, a psalm of a canticle for Asaph.
Corrupt not. . .It is believed to have been the beginning of some ode or
hymn, to the tune of which this psalm was to be sung.  St. Augustine and
other fathers take it to be an admonition of the spirit of God, not to
faint or fail in our hope:  but to persevere with constancy in good:
because God will not fail in his due time to render to every man
according to his works.
74:2. We will praise thee, O God:  we will praise, and we will call upon
thy name.  We will relate thy wondrous works:
74:3. When I shall take a time, I will judge justices.
When I shall take a time. . .In proper times:  particularly at the last
day, when the earth shall melt away at the presence of the great Judge:
the same who originally laid the foundations of it, and as it were
established its pillars.
74:4. The earth is melted, and all that dwell therein:  I have
established the pillars thereof.
74:5. I said to the wicked:  Do not act wickedly:  and to the sinners:
Lift not up the horn.
74:6. Lift not up your horn on high:  speak not iniquity against God.
74:7. For neither from the east, nor from the west, nor from the desert
74:8. For God is the judge.  One he putteth down, and another he lifteth
74:9. For in the hand of the Lord there is a cup of strong wine full of
mixture.  And he hath poured it out from this to that:  but the dregs
thereof are not emptied:  all the sinners of the earth shall drink.
74:10. But I will declare for ever:  I will sing to the God of Jacob.
74:11. And I will break all the horns of sinners:  but the horns of the
just shall be exalted.
Psalms Chapter 75
Notus in Judaea.
God is known in his church:  and exerts his power in protecting it.  It
alludes to the slaughter of the Assyrians, in the days of king
75:1. Unto the end, in praises, a psalm for Asaph:  a canticle to the
75:2. In Judea God is known:  his name is great in Israel.
75:3. And his place is in peace:  and his abode in Sion:
75:4. There hath he broken the powers of bows, the shield, the sword,
and the battle.
75:5. Thou enlightenest wonderfully from the everlasting hills.
75:6. All the foolish of heart were troubled.  They have slept their
sleep; and all the men of riches have found nothing in their hands.
75:7. At thy rebuke, O God of Jacob, they have all slumbered that
mounted on horseback.
75:8. Thou art terrible, and who shall resist thee?  from that time thy
From that time, etc. . .From the time that thy wrath shall break out.
75:9. Thou hast caused judgment to be heard from heaven:  the earth
trembled and was still,
75:10. When God arose in judgment, to save all the meek of the earth.
75:11. For the thought of man shall give praise to thee:  and the
remainders of the thought shall keep holiday to thee.
75:12. Vow ye, and pay to the Lord your God:  all you that are round
about him bring presents.  To him that is terrible,
75:13. Even to him who taketh away the spirit of princes:  to the
terrible with the kings of the earth.
Psalms Chapter 76
The faithful have recourse to God in trouble of mind, with confidence
in his mercy and power.
76:1. Unto the end, for Idithun, a psalm of Asaph.
76:2. I cried to the Lord with my voice; to God with my voice, and he
gave ear to me.
76:3. In the days of my trouble I sought God, with my hands lifted up
to him in the night, and I was not deceived.  My soul refused to be
76:4. I remembered God, and was delighted, and was exercised, and my
spirit swooned away.
76:5. My eyes prevented the watches:  I was troubled, and I spoke not.
76:6. I thought upon the days of old:  and I had in my mind the eternal
76:7. And I meditated in the night with my own heart:  and I was
exercised and I swept my spirit.
76:8. Will God then cast off for ever?  or will he never be more
favourable again?
76:9. Or will he cut off his mercy for ever, from generation to
76:10. Or will God forget to shew mercy?  or will he in his anger shut
up his mercies?
76:11. And I said, Now have I begun:  this is the change of the right
hand of the most High.
76:12. I remembered the works of the Lord:  for I will be mindful of thy
wonders from the beginning.
76:13. And I will meditate on all thy works:  and will be employed in
thy inventions.
76:14. Thy way, O God, is in the holy place:  who is the great God like
76:15. Thou art the God that dost wonders.  Thou hast made thy power
known among the nations:
76:16. With thy arm thou hast redeemed thy people the children of Jacob
and of Joseph.
76:17. The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee:  and they were
afraid, and the depths were troubled.
76:18. Great was the noise of the waters:  the clouds sent out a sound.
For thy arrows pass:
76:19. The voice of thy thunder in a wheel.  Thy lightnings enlightened
the world:  the earth shook and trembled.
76:20. Thy way is in the sea, and thy paths in many waters:  and thy
footsteps shall not be known.
76:21. Thou hast conducted thy people like sheep, by the hand of Moses
Psalms Chapter 77
God's great benefits to the people of Israel, notwithstanding their
ingratitude.
77:1. Understanding for Asaph.  Attend, O my people, to my law:  incline
your ears to the words of my mouth.
77:2. I will open my mouth in parables:  I will utter propositions from
the beginning.
Propositions. . .Deep and mysterious sayings.  By this it appears that
the historical facts of ancient times, commemorated in this psalm, were
deep and mysterious:  as being figures of great truths appertaining to
the time of the New Testament.
77:3. How great things have we heard and known, and our fathers have
77:4. They have not been hidden from their children, in another
generation.  Declaring the praises of the Lord, and his powers, and his
wonders which he hath done.
77:5. And he set up a testimony in Jacob:  and made a law in Israel.  How
great things he commanded our fathers, that they should make the same
known to their children:
77:6. That another generation might know them.  The children that should
be born and should rise up, and declare them to their children.
77:7. That they may put their hope in God and may not forget the works
of God:  and may seek his commandments.
77:8. That they may not become like their fathers, a perverse and
exasperating generation.  A generation that set not their heart aright:
and whose spirit was not faithful to God.
77:9. The sons of Ephraim who bend and shoot with the bow:  they have
turned back in the day of battle.
77:10. They kept not the covenant of God:  and in his law they would not
77:11. And they forgot his benefits, and his wonders that he had shewn
77:12. Wonderful things did he do in the sight of their fathers, in the
land of Egypt, in the field of Tanis.
77:13. He divided the sea and brought them through:  and he made the
waters to stand as in a vessel.
77:14. And he conducted them with a cloud by day:  and all the night
with a light of fire.
77:15. He struck the rock in the wilderness:  and gave them to drink, as
out of the great deep.
77:16. He brought forth water out of the rock:  and made streams run
down as rivers.
77:17. And they added yet more sin against him:  they provoked the most
High to wrath in the place without water.
77:18. And they tempted God in their hearts, by asking meat for their
77:19. And they spoke ill of God:  they said:  Can God furnish a table in
the wilderness?
77:20. Because he struck the rock, and the waters gushed out, and the
streams overflowed.  Can he also give bread, or provide a table for his
77:21. Therefore the Lord heard, and was angry:  and a fire was kindled
against Jacob, and wrath came up against Israel.
77:22. Because they believed not in God:  and trusted not in his
77:23. And he had commanded the clouds from above, and had opened the
doors of heaven.
77:24. And had rained down manna upon them to eat, and had given them
the bread of heaven.
77:25. Man ate the bread of angels:  he sent them provisions in
77:26. He removed the south wind from heaven:  and by his power brought
in the southwest wind.
77:27. And he rained upon them flesh as dust:  and feathered fowls like
as the sand of the sea.
77:28. And they fell in the midst of their camp, round about their
77:29. So they did eat, and were filled exceedingly, and he gave them
their desire:
77:30. they were not defrauded of that which they craved.  As yet their
meat was in their mouth:
77:31. And the wrath of God came upon them.  And he slew the fat ones
amongst them, and brought down the chosen men of Israel.
77:32. In all these things they sinned still:  and they behaved not for
his wondrous works.
77:33. And their days were consumed in vanity, and their years in
77:34. When he slew them, then they sought him:  and they returned, and
came to him early in the morning.
77:35. And they remembered that God was their helper:  and the most high
God their redeemer.
77:36. And they loved him with their mouth:  and with their tongue they
lied unto him:
77:37. But their heart was not right with him:  nor were they counted
faithful in his covenant.
77:38. But he is merciful, and will forgive their sins:  and will not
destroy them.  And many a time did he turn away his anger:  and did not
kindle all his wrath.
77:39. And he remembered that they are flesh:  a wind that goeth and
returneth not.
77:40. How often did they provoke him in the desert:  and move him to
wrath in the place without water?
77:41. And they turned back and tempted God:  and grieved the holy one
77:42. They remembered not his hand, in the day that he redeemed them
from the hand of him that afflicted them:
77:43. How he wrought his signs in Egypt, and his wonders in the field
77:44. And he turned their rivers into blood, and their showers that
they might not drink.
77:45. He sent amongst them divers sorts of flies, which devoured them:
and frogs which destroyed them.
77:46. And he gave up their fruits to the blast, and their labours to
77:47. And he destroyed their vineyards with hail, and their mulberry
trees with hoarfrost.
77:48. And he gave up their cattle to the hail, and their stock to the
77:49. And he sent upon them the wrath of his indignation:  indignation
and wrath and trouble, which he sent by evil angels.
77:50. He made a way for a path to his anger:  he spared not their souls
from death, and their cattle he shut up in death.
77:51. And he killed all the firstborn in the land of Egypt:  the
firstfruits of all their labour in the tabernacles of Cham.
77:52. And he took away his own people as sheep:  and guided them in the
wilderness like a flock.
77:53. And he brought them out in hope and they feared not:  and the sea
overwhelmed their enemies.
77:54. And he brought them into the mountain of his sanctuary:  the
mountain which his right hand had purchased.  And he cast out the
Gentiles before them:  and by lot divided to them their land by a line
of distribution.
77:55. And he made the tribes of Israel to dwell in their tabernacles.
77:56. Yet they tempted, and provoked the most high God:  and they kept
not his testimonies.
77:57. And they turned away, and kept not the covenant:  even like their
fathers they were turned aside as a crooked bow.
77:58. They provoked him to anger on their hills:  and moved him to
jealousy with their graven things.
77:59. God heard, and despised them, and he reduced Israel exceedingly
as it were to nothing.
77:60. And he put away the tabernacle of Silo, his tabernacle where he
dwelt among men.
77:61. And he delivered their strength into captivity:  and their beauty
into the hands of the enemy.
77:62. And he shut up his people under the sword:  and he despised his
inheritance.
77:63. Fire consumed their young men:  and their maidens were not
77:64. Their priests fell by the sword:  and their widows did not mourn.
77:65. And the Lord was awaked as one out of sleep, and like a mighty
man that hath been surfeited with wine.
77:66. And he smote his enemies on the hinder parts:  he put them to an
everlasting reproach.
77:67. And he rejected the tabernacle of Joseph:  and chose not the
tribe of Ephraim:
77:68. But he chose the tribe of Juda, mount Sion which he loved.
77:69. And he built his sanctuary as of unicorns, in the land which he
founded for ever.
As of unicorns. . .That is, firm and strong like the horn of the
unicorn.  This is one of the chiefest of the propositions of this psalm,
foreshewing the firm establishment of the one, true, and everlasting
sanctuary of God, in his church.
77:70. And he chose his servant David, and took him from the flocks of
sheep:  he brought him from following the ewes great with young,
77:71. To feed Jacob his servant and Israel his inheritance.
77:72. And he fed them in the innocence of his heart:  and conducted
them by the skilfulness of his hands.
Psalms Chapter 78
Deus, venerunt gentes.
The church in time of persecution prayeth for relief.  It seems to
belong to the time of the Machabees.
78:1. A psalm for Asaph.  O God, the heathens are come into thy
inheritance, they have defiled thy holy temple:  they have made
Jerusalem as a place to keep fruit.
78:2. They have given the dead bodies of thy servants to be meat for
the fowls of the air:  the flesh of thy saints for the beasts of the
78:3. They have poured out their blood as water, round about Jerusalem
and there was none to bury them.
78:4. We are become a reproach to our neighbours:  a scorn and derision
to them that are round about us.
78:5. How long, O Lord, wilt thou be angry for ever:  shall thy zeal be
kindled like a fire?
78:6. Pour out thy wrath upon the nations that have not known thee:  and
upon the kingdoms that have not called upon thy name.
78:7. Because they have devoured Jacob; and have laid waste his place.
78:8. Remember not our former iniquities:  let thy mercies speedily
prevent us, for we are become exceeding poor.
78:9. Help us, O God, our saviour:  and for the glory of thy name, O
Lord, deliver us:  and forgive us our sins for thy name's sake:
78:10. Lest they should say among the Gentiles:  Where is their God?  And
let him be made known among the nations before our eyes, By the
revenging the blood of thy servants, which hath been shed:
78:11. Let the sighing of the prisoners come in before thee.  According
to the greatness of thy arm, take possession of the children of them
that have been put to death.
78:12. And render to our neighbours sevenfold in their bosom:  the
reproach wherewith they have reproached thee, O Lord.
78:13. But we thy people, and the sheep of thy pasture, will give
thanks to thee for ever.  We will shew forth thy praise, unto generation
and generation.
Psalms Chapter 79
Qui regis Israel.
A prayer for the church in tribulation, commemorating God's former
79:1. Unto the end, for them that shall be changed, a testimony for
Asaph, a psalm.
79:2. Give ear, O thou that rulest Israel:  thou that leadest Joseph
like a sheep.  Thou that sittest upon the cherubims, shine forth
79:3. Before Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasses.  Stir up thy might, and
come to save us.
79:4. Convert us, O God:  and shew us thy face, and we shall be saved.
79:5. O Lord God of hosts, how long wilt thou be angry against the
prayer of thy servant?
79:6. How long wilt thou feed us with the bread of tears:  and give us
for our drink tears in measure?
79:7. Thou hast made us to be a contradiction to our neighbours:  and
our enemies have scoffed at us.
79:8. O God of hosts, convert us:  and shew thy face, and we shall be
79:9. Thou hast brought a vineyard out of Egypt:  thou hast cast out the
Gentiles and planted it.
79:10. Thou wast the guide of its journey in its sight:  thou plantedst
the roots thereof, and it filled the land.
79:11. The shadow of it covered the hills:  and the branches thereof the
cedars of God.
79:12. It stretched forth its branches unto the sea, and its boughs
unto the river.
79:13. Why hast thou broken down the hedge thereof, so that all they
who pass by the way do pluck it?
79:14. The boar out of the wood hath laid it waste:  and a singular wild
beast hath devoured it.
79:15. Turn again, O God of hosts, look down from heaven, and see, and
visit this vineyard:
79:16. And perfect the same which thy right hand hath planted:  and upon
the son of man whom thou hast confirmed for thyself.
79:17. Things set on fire and dug down shall perish at the rebuke of
thy countenance.
Things set on fire, etc. . .So this vineyard of thine, almost consumed
already, must perish, if thou continue thy rebukes.
79:18. Let thy hand be upon the man of thy right hand:  and upon the son
of man whom thou hast confirmed for thyself.
The man of thy right hand. . .Christ.
79:19. And we depart not from thee, thou shalt quicken us:  and we will
call upon thy name.
79:20. O Lord God of hosts, convert us and shew thy face, and we shall
Psalms Chapter 80
Exultate Deo.
An invitation to a solemn praising of God.
80:1. Unto the end, for the winepresses, a psalm for Asaph himself.
For the winepresses, etc. . .Torcularibus.  It either signifies a musical
instrument, or that this psalm was to be sung at the feast of the
tabernacles after the gathering in of the vintage.
80:2. Rejoice to God our helper:  sing aloud to the God of Jacob.
80:3. Take a psalm, and bring hither the timbrel:  the pleasant psaltery
with the harp.
80:4. Blow up the trumpet on the new moon, on the noted day of your
80:5. For it is a commandment in Israel, and a judgment to the God of
80:6. He ordained it for a testimony in Joseph, when he came out of the
land of Egypt:  he heard a tongue which he knew not.
80:7. He removed his back from the burdens:  his hands had served in
80:8. Thou calledst upon me in affliction, and I delivered thee:  I
heard thee in the secret place of tempest:  I proved thee at the waters
of contradiction.
In the secret place of tempest. . .Heb., Of thunder.  When thou soughtest
to hide thyself from the tempest:  or, when I came down to mount Sina,
hidden from thy eyes in a storm of thunder.
80:9. Hear, O my people, and I will testify to thee:  O Israel, if thou
wilt hearken to me,
80:10. there shall be no new god in thee:  neither shalt
thou adore a strange god.
80:11. For I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land of
Egypt:  open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.
80:12. But my people heard not my voice:  and Israel hearkened not to
80:13. So I let them go according to the desires of their heart:  they
shall walk in their own inventions.
80:14. If my people had heard me:  if Israel had walked in my ways:
80:15. I should soon have humbled their enemies, and laid my hand on
them that troubled them.
80:16. The enemies of the Lord have lied to him:  and their time shall
be for ever.
Their time shall be forever. . .Impenitent sinners shall suffer for
80:17. And he fed them with the fat of wheat, and filled them with
honey out of the rock.
Psalms Chapter 81
Deus stetit.
An exhortation to judges and men in power.
81:1. A psalm for Asaph.  God hath stood in the congregation of gods:
and being in the midst of them he judgeth gods.
81:2. How long will you judge unjustly:  and accept the persons of the
81:3. Judge for the needy and fatherless:  do justice to the humble and
81:4. Rescue the poor; and deliver the needy out of the hand of the
81:5. They have not known nor understood:  they walk on in darkness:  all
the foundations of the earth shall be moved.
81:6. I have said:  You are gods and all of you the sons of the most
81:7. But you like men shall die:  and shall fall like one of the
81:8. Arise, O God, judge thou the earth:  for thou shalt inherit among
all the nations.
Psalms Chapter 82
Deus, quis similis.
A prayer against the enemies of God's church.
82:1. A canticle of a psalm for Asaph.
82:2. O God, who shall be like to thee?  hold not thy peace, neither be
thou still, O God.
82:3. For lo, thy enemies have made a noise:  and they that hate thee
have lifted up the head.
82:4. They have taken a malicious counsel against thy people, and have
consulted against thy saints.
82:5. They have said:  Come and let us destroy them, so that they be not
a nation:  and let the name of Israel be remembered no more.
82:6. For they have contrived with one consent:  they have made a
covenant together against thee,
82:7. The tabernacle of the Edomites, and the Ishmahelites:  Moab, and
the Agarens,
82:8. Gebal, and Ammon and Amalec:  the Philistines, with the
inhabitants of Tyre.
82:9. Yea, and the Assyrian also is joined with them:  they are come to
the aid of the sons of Lot.
82:10. Do to them as thou didst to Madian and to Sisara:  as to Jabin at
the brook of Cisson.
82:11. Who perished at Endor:  and became as dung for the earth.
82:12. Make their princes like Oreb, and Zeb, and Zebee, and Salmana.
All their princes,
82:13. Who have said:  Let us possess the sanctuary of God for an
inheritance.
82:14. O my God, make them like a wheel; and as stubble before the
82:15. As fire which burneth the wood:  and as a flame burning
82:16. So shalt thou pursue them with thy tempest:  and shalt trouble
them in thy wrath.
82:17. Fill their faces with shame; and they shall seek thy name, O
82:18. Let them be ashamed and troubled for ever and ever:  and let them
be confounded and perish.
82:19. And let them know that the Lord is thy name:  thou alone art the
most High over all the earth.
Psalms Chapter 83
Quam dilecta.
The soul aspireth after heaven; rejoicing in the mean time, in being in
the communion of God's church upon earth.
83:1. Unto the end, for the winepresses, a psalm for the sons of Core.
83:2. How lovely are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts!
83:3. my soul longeth and fainteth for the courts of the Lord.  My heart
and my flesh have rejoiced in the living God.
83:4. For the sparrow hath found herself a house, and the turtle a nest
for herself where she may lay her young ones:  Thy altars, O Lord of
hosts, my king and my God.
83:5. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house, O Lord:  they shall
praise thee for ever and ever.
83:6. Blessed is the man whose help is from thee:  in his heart he hath
disposed to ascend by steps,
In his heart he hath disposed to ascend by steps, etc. . .Ascensiones in
corde suo disposuit.  As by steps men ascended to the temple of God
situated on a hill; so the good Christian ascends towards the eternal
temple by certain steps of virtue disposed or ordered within the heart:
and this whilst he lives as yet in the body, in this vale of tears, the
place which man hath set:  that is, which he hath brought himself to:
being cast out of paradise for his sin.
83:7. In the vale of tears, in the place which he hath set.
83:8. For the lawgiver shall give a blessing, they shall go from virtue
to virtue:  the God of gods shall be seen in Sion.
83:9. O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer:  give ear, O God of Jacob.
83:10. Behold, O God our protector:  and look on the face of thy Christ.
83:11. For better is one day in thy courts above thousands.  I have
chosen to be an abject in the house of my God, rather than to dwell in
the tabernacles of sinners.
83:12. For God loveth mercy and truth:  the Lord will give grace and
83:13. He will not deprive of good things them that walk in innocence:
O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee.
Psalms Chapter 84
Benedixisti, Domine.
The coming of Christ, to bring peace and salvation to man.
84:1. Unto the end, for the sons of Core, a psalm.
84:2. Lord, thou hast blessed thy land:  thou hast turned away the
captivity of Jacob.
84:3. Thou hast forgiven the iniquity of thy people:  thou hast covered
all their sins.
84:4. Thou hast mitigated all thy anger:  thou hast turned away from the
wrath of thy indignation.
84:5. Convert us, O God our saviour:  and turn off thy anger from us.
84:6. Wilt thou be angry with us for ever:  or wilt thou extend thy
wrath from generation to generation?
84:7. Thou wilt turn, O God, and bring us to life:  and thy people shall
rejoice in thee.
84:8. Shew us, O Lord, thy mercy; and grant us thy salvation.
84:9. I will hear what the Lord God will speak in me:  for he will speak
peace unto his people:  And unto his saints:  and unto them that are
converted to the heart.
84:10. Surely his salvation is near to them that fear him :  that glory
may dwell in our land.
84:11. Mercy and truth have met each other:  justice and peace have
84:12. Truth is sprung out of the earth:  and justice hath looked down
from heaven.
84:13. For the Lord will give goodness:  and our earth shall yield her
84:14. Justice shall walk before him:  and ,shall set his steps in the
Psalms Chapter 85
Inclina, Domine.
A prayer for God's grace to assist us to the end.
85:1. A prayer for David himself.  Incline thy ear, O Lord, and hear me:
for I am needy and poor.
85:2. Preserve my soul, for I am holy:  save thy servant, O my God, that
trusteth in thee.
I am holy. . .I am by my office and profession dedicated to thy service.
85:3. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I have cried to thee all the day.
85:4. Give joy to the soul of thy servant, for to thee, O Lord, I have
lifted up my soul.
85:5. For thou, O Lord, art sweet and mild:  and plenteous in mercy to
all that call upon thee.
85:6. Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer:  and attend to the voice of my
85:7. I have called upon thee in the day of my trouble:  because thou
hast heard me.
85:8. There is none among the gods like unto thee, O Lord:  and there is
none according to thy works.
85:9. All the nations thou hast made shall come and adore before thee,
O Lord:  and they shall glorify thy name.
85:10. For thou art great and dost wonderful things:  thou art God
85:11. Conduct me, O Lord, in thy way, and I will walk in thy truth:
let my heart rejoice that it may fear thy name.
85:12. I will praise thee, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I
will glorify thy name for ever:
85:13. For thy mercy is great towards me:  and thou hast delivered my
soul out of the lower hell.
85:14. O God, the wicked are risen up against me, and the assembly of
the mighty have sought my soul:  and they have not set thee before their
85:15. And thou, O Lord, art a God of compassion, and merciful,
patient, and of much mercy, and true.
85:16. O look upon me, and have mercy on me:  give thy command to thy
servant, and save the son of thy handmaid.
85:17. Shew me a token for good:  that they who hate me may see, and be
confounded, because thou, O Lord, hast helped me and hast comforted me.
Psalms Chapter 86
Fundamenta ejus.
The glory of the church of Christ.
86:1. For the sons of Core, a psalm of a canticle.  The foundations
thereof are the holy mountains:
The holy mountains. . .The apostles and prophets.  Eph. 2.20.
86:2. The Lord loveth the gates of Sion above all the tabernacles of
86:3. Glorious things are said of thee, O city of God.
86:4. I will be mindful of Rahab and of Babylon knowing me.  Behold the
foreigners, and Tyre, and the people of the Ethiopians, these were
Rahab. . .Egypt, etc.  To this Sion, which is the church of God, many
shall resort from all nations.
86:5. Shall not Sion say:  This man and that man is born in her?  and the
Highest himself hath founded her.
Shall not Sion say, etc. . .The meaning is, that Sion, viz., the church,
shall not only be able to commemorate this or that particular person of
renown born in her, but also to glory in great multitudes of people and
princes of her communion; who have been foretold in the writings of the
prophets, and registered in the writings of the apostles.
86:6. The Lord shall tell in his writings of peoples and of princes, of
them that have been in her.
86:7. The dwelling in thee is as it were of all rejoicing.
Psalms Chapter 87
Domine, Deus salutis.
A prayer of one under grievous affliction:  it agrees to Christ in his
passion, and alludes to his death and burial.
87:1. A canticle of a psalm for the sons of Core:  unto the end, for
Maheleth, to answer understanding of Eman the Ezrahite.
Maheleth. . .A musical instrument, or chorus of musicians, to answer one
another.--Ibid.  Understanding. . .Or a psalm of instruction, composed by
Eman the Ezrahite, or by David, in his name.
87:2. O Lord, the God of my salvation:  I have cried in the day, and in
the night before thee.
87:3. Let my prayer come in before thee:  incline thy ear to my
87:4. For my soul is filled with evils:  and my life hath drawn nigh to
87:5. I am counted among them that go down to the pit:  I am become as a
man without help,
87:6. Free among the dead.  Like the slain sleeping in the sepulchres,
whom thou rememberest no more:  and they are cut off from thy hand.
87:7. They have laid me in the lower pit:  in the dark places, and in
the shadow of death.
87:8. Thy wrath is strong over me:  and all thy waves thou hast brought
87:9. Thou hast put away my acquaintance far from me:  they have set me
an abomination to themselves.  I was delivered up, and came not forth:
87:10. My eyes languished through poverty.  All the day I cried to thee,
O Lord:  I stretched out my hands to thee.
87:11. Wilt thou shew wonders to the dead?  or shall physicians raise to
life, and give praise to thee?
87:12. Shall any one in the sepulchre declare thy mercy:  and thy truth
in destruction?
87:13. Shall thy wonders be known in the dark; and thy justice in the
land of forgetfulness?
87:14. But I, O Lord, have cried to thee:  and in the morning my prayer
shall prevent thee.
87:15. Lord, why castest thou off my prayer:  why turnest thou away thy
face from me?
87:16. I am poor, and in labours from my youth:  and being exalted have
been humbled and troubled.
87:17. Thy wrath hath come upon me:  and thy terrors have troubled me.
87:18. They have come round about me like water all the day:  they have
compassed me about together.
87:19. Friend and neighbour thou hast put far from me:  and my
acquaintance, because of misery.
Psalms Chapter 88
Misericordias Domini.
The perpetuity of the church of Christ, in consequence of the promise
of God:  which, notwithstanding, God permits her to suffer sometimes
most grievous afflictions.
88:1. Of understanding, for Ethan the Ezrahite.
88:2. The mercies of the Lord I will sing for ever.  I will shew forth
thy truth with my mouth to generation and generation.
88:3. For thou hast said:  Mercy shall be built up for ever in the
heavens:  thy truth shall be prepared in them.
88:4. I have made a covenant with my elect:  I have sworn to David my
88:5. Thy seed will I settle for ever.  And I will build up thy throne
unto generation and generation.
88:6. The heavens shall confess thy wonders, O Lord:  and thy truth in
the church of the saints.
88:7. For who in the clouds can be compared to the Lord:  or who among
the sons of God shall be like to God?
88:8. God, who is glorified in the assembly of the saints:  great and
terrible above all them that are about him.
88:9. O Lord God of hosts, who is like to thee?  thou art mighty, O
Lord, and thy truth is round about thee.
88:10. Thou rulest the power of the sea:  and appeasest the motion of
the waves thereof.
88:11. Thou hast humbled the proud one, as one that is slain:  with the
arm of thy strength thou hast scattered thy enemies.
88:12. Thine are the heavens, and thine is the earth:  the world and the
fulness thereof thou hast founded:
88:13. The north and the sea thou hast created.  Thabor and Hermon shall
rejoice in thy name:
88:14. Thy arm is with might.  Let thy hand be strengthened, and thy
right hand exalted:
88:15. Justice and judgment are the preparation of thy throne.  Mercy
and truth shall go before thy face:
88:16. Blessed is the people that knoweth jubilation.  They shall walk,
O Lord, in the light of thy countenance:
88:17. And in thy name they shall rejoice all the day, and in thy
justice they shall be exalted.
88:18. For thou art the glory of their strength:  and in thy good
pleasure shall our horn be exalted.
88:19. For our protection is of the Lord, and of our king the holy one
88:20. Then thou spokest in a vision to thy saints, and saidst:  I have
laid help upon one that is mighty, and have exalted one chosen out of
88:21. I have found David my servant:  with my holy oil I have anointed
88:22. For my hand shall help him:  and my arm shall strengthen him.
88:23. The enemy shall have no advantage over him:  nor the son of
iniquity have power to hurt him.
88:24. And I will cut down his enemies before his face; and them that
hate him I will put to flight.
88:25. And my truth and my mercy shall be with him:  and in my name
shall his horn be exalted.
88:26. And I will set his hand in the sea; and his right hand in the
88:27. He shall cry out to me:  Thou art my father:  my God, and the
support of my salvation.
88:28. And I will make him my firstborn, high above the kings of the
88:29. I will keep my mercy for him for ever:  and my covenant faithful
88:30. And I will make his seed to endure for evermore:  and his throne
as the days of heaven.
88:31. And if his children forsake my law, and walk not in my
88:32. If they profane my justices:  and keep not my commandments:
88:33. I will visit their iniquities with a rod and their sins with
88:34. But my mercy I will not take away from him:  nor will I suffer my
truth to fail.
88:35. Neither will I profane my covenant:  and the words that proceed
from my mouth I will not make void.
88:36. Once have I sworn by my holiness:  I will not lie unto David:
88:37. His seed shall endure for ever.
88:38. And his throne as the sun before me:  and as the moon perfect for
ever, and a faithful witness in heaven.
88:39. But thou hast rejected and despised:  thou hast been angry with
my anointed.
88:40. Thou hast overthrown the covenant of thy servant:  thou hast
profaned his sanctuary on the earth.
Overthrown the covenant, etc. . .All this seems to relate to the time of
the captivity of Babylon, in which, for the sins of the people and
their princes, God seemed to have set aside for a while the covenant he
made with David.
88:41. Thou hast broken down all his hedges:  thou hast made his
strength fear.
88:42. All that pass by the way have robbed him:  he is become a
reproach to his neighbours.
88:43. Thou hast set up the right hand of them that oppress him:  thou
hast made all his enemies to rejoice.
88:44. Thou hast turned away the help of his sword; and hast not
assisted him in battle.
88:45. Thou hast made his purification to cease:  and thou hast cast his
throne down to the ground.
88:46. Thou hast shortened the days of his time:  thou hast covered him
with confusion.
88:47. How long, O Lord, turnest thou away unto the end?  shall thy
anger burn like fire?
88:48. Remember what my substance is:  for hast thou made all the
children of men in vain?
88:49. Who is the man that shall live, and not see death:  that shall
deliver his soul from the hand of hell?
88:50. Lord, where are thy ancient mercies, according to what thou
didst swear to David in thy truth?
88:51. Be mindful, O Lord, of the reproach of thy servants (which I
have held in my bosom) of many nations:
88:52. Wherewith thy enemies have reproached, O Lord; wherewith they
have reproached the change of thy anointed.
88:53. Blessed be the Lord for evermore.  So be it.  So be it.
Psalms Chapter 89
Domine, refugium.
A prayer for the mercy of God:  recounting the shortness and miseries of
the days of man.
89:1. A prayer of Moses the man of God.  Lord, thou hast been our refuge
from generation to generation.
89:2. Before the mountains were made, or the earth and the world was
formed; from eternity and to eternity thou art God.
89:3. Turn not man away to be brought low:  and thou hast said:  Be
converted, O ye sons of men.
Turn not man away, etc. . .Suffer him not quite to perish from thee,
since thou art pleased to call upon him to be converted to thee.
89:4. For a thousand years in thy sight are as yesterday, which is
past.  And as a watch in the night,
89:5. Things that are counted nothing, shall their years be.
89:6. In the morning man shall grow up like grass; in the morning he
shall flourish and pass away:  in the evening he shall fall, grow dry,
89:7. For in thy wrath we have fainted away:  and are troubled in thy
indignation.
89:8. Thou hast set our iniquities before thy eyes:  our life in the
light of thy countenance.
89:9. For all our days are spent; and in thy wrath we have fainted
away.  Our years shall be considered as a spider:
As a spider. . .As frail and weak as a spider's web; and miserable
withal, whilst like a spider we spend our bowels in weaving webs to
catch flies.
89:10. The days of our years in them are threescore and ten years.  But
if in the strong they be fourscore years:  and what is more of them is
labour and sorrow.  For mildness is come upon us:  and we shall be
Mildness is come upon us, etc. . .God's mildness corrects us; inasmuch
as he deals kindly with us, in shortening the days of this miserable
life; and so weaning our affections from all its transitory enjoyments,
and teaching us true wisdom.
89:11. Who knoweth the power of thy anger, and for thy fear
89:12. Can number thy wrath?  So make thy right hand known:  and men
learned in heart, in wisdom.
89:13. Return, O Lord, how long?  and be entreated in favour of thy
89:14. We are filled in the morning with thy mercy:  and we have
rejoiced, and are delighted all our days.
89:15. We have rejoiced for the days in which thou hast humbled us:  for
the years in which we have seen evils.
89:16. Look upon thy servants and upon their works:  and direct their
89:17. And let the brightness of the Lord our God be upon us:  and
direct thou the works of our hands over us; yea, the work of our hands
do thou direct.
Psalms Chapter 90
Qui habitat.
The just is secure under the protection of God.
90:1. The praise of a canticle for David.  He that dwelleth in the aid
of the most High, shall abide under the protection of the God of Jacob.
90:2. He shall say to the Lord:  Thou art my protector, and my refuge:
my God, in him will I trust.
90:3. For he hath delivered me from the snare of the hunters:  and from
the sharp word.
90:4. He will overshadow thee with his shoulders:  and under his wings
thou shalt trust.
90:5. His truth shall compass thee with a shield:  thou shalt not be
afraid of the terror of the night.
90:6. Of the arrow that flieth in the day, of the business that walketh
about in the dark:  of invasion, or of the noonday devil.
90:7. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right
hand:  but it shall not come nigh thee.
90:8. But thou shalt consider with thy eyes:  and shalt see the reward
of the wicked.
90:9. Because thou, O Lord, art my hope:  thou hast made the most High
90:10. There shall no evil come to thee:  nor shall the scourge come
near thy dwelling.
90:11. For he hath given his angels charge over thee; to keep thee in
all thy ways.
90:12. In their hands they shall bear thee up:  lest thou dash thy foot
against a stone.
90:13. Thou shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk:  and thou shalt
trample under foot the lion and the dragon.
90:14. Because he hoped in me I will deliver him:  I will protect him
because he hath known my name.
90:15. He shall cry to me, and I will hear him:  I am with him in
tribulation, I will deliver him, and I will glorify him.
90:16. I will fill him with length of days; and I will shew him my
Psalms Chapter 91
Bonum est confiteri.
God is to be praised for his wondrous works.
91:1. A psalm of a canticle on the sabbath day.
91:2. It is good to give praise to the Lord:  and to sing to thy name, O
91:3. To shew forth thy mercy in the morning, and thy truth in the
91:4. Upon an instrument of ten strings, upon the psaltery:  with a
canticle upon the harp.
91:5. For thou hast given me, O Lord, a delight in thy doings:  and in
the works of thy hands I shall rejoice.
91:6. O Lord, how great are thy works! thy thoughts are exceeding deep.
91:7. The senseless man shall not know:  nor will the fool understand
these things.
91:8. When the wicked shall spring up as grass:  and all the workers of
iniquity shall appear:  That they may perish for ever and ever:
91:9. But thou, O Lord, art most high for evermore.
91:10. For behold thy enemies, O lord, for behold thy enemies shall
perish:  and all the workers of iniquity shall be scattered.
91:11. But my horn shall be exalted like that of the unicorn:  and my
old age in plentiful mercy.
91:12. My eye also hath looked down upon my enemies:  and my ear shall
hear of the downfall of the malignant that rise up against me.
91:13. The just shall flourish like the palm tree:  he shall grow up
like the cedar of Libanus.
91:14. They that are planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in
the courts of the house of our God.
91:15. They shall still increase in a fruitful old age:  and shall be
well treated,
91:16. That they may shew, That the Lord our God is righteous, and
there is no iniquity in him.
Psalms Chapter 92
Dominus regnavit.
The glory and stability of the kingdom; that is, of the church of
Praise in the way of a canticle, for David himself, on the day before
the sabbath, when the earth was founded.
92:1. The Lord hath reigned, he is clothed with beauty:  the Lord is
clothed with strength, and hath girded himself.  For he hath established
the world which shall not be moved.
92:2. My throne is prepared from of old:  thou art from everlasting.
92:3. The floods have lifted up, O Lord:  the floods have lifted up
their voice.  The floods have lifted up their waves,
92:4. With the noise of many waters.  Wonderful are the surges of the
sea:  wonderful is the Lord on high.
92:5. Thy testimonies are become exceedingly credible:  holiness
becometh thy house, O Lord, unto length of days.
Psalms Chapter 93
Deus ultionum.
God shall judge and punish the oppressors of his people.
A psalm for David himself on the fourth day of the week.
93:1. The Lord is the God to whom revenge belongeth:  the God of revenge
hath acted freely.
93:2. Lift up thyself, thou that judgest the earth:  render a reward to
93:3. How long shall sinners, O Lord:  how long shall sinners glory?
93:4. Shall they utter, and speak iniquity:  shall all speak who work
93:5. Thy people, O Lord, they have brought low:  and they have
afflicted thy inheritance.
93:6. They have slain the widow and the stranger:  and they have
murdered the fatherless.
93:7. And they have said:  The Lord shall not see:  neither shall the God
of Jacob understand.
93:8. Understand, ye senseless among the people:  and, you fools, be
wise at last.
93:9. He that planted the ear, shall he not hear?  or he that formed the
eye, doth he not consider?
93:10. He that chastiseth nations, shall he not rebuke:  he that
teacheth man knowledge?
93:11. The Lord knoweth the thoughts of men, that they are vain.
93:12. Blessed is the man whom thou shalt instruct, O Lord:  and shalt
teach him out of thy law.
93:13. That thou mayst give him rest from the evil days:  till a pit be
dug for the wicked.
Rest from the evil days. . .That thou mayst mitigate the sorrows, to
which he is exposed, during the short and evil days of his mortality.
93:14. For the Lord will not cast off his people:  neither will he
forsake his own inheritance.
93:15. Until justice be turned into judgment:  and they that are near it
are all the upright in heart.
Until justice be turned into judgment, etc. . .By being put in
execution; which will be agreeable to all the upright in heart.
93:16. Who shall rise up for me against the evildoers?  or who shall
stand with me against the workers of iniquity?
93:17. Unless the Lord had been my helper, my soul had almost dwelt in
93:18. If I said:  My foot is moved:  thy mercy, O Lord, assisted me.
93:19. According to the multitude of my sorrows in my heart, thy
comforts have given joy to my soul.
93:20. Doth the seat of iniquity stick to thee, who framest labour in
commandment?
Doth the seat of iniquity stick to thee, etc. . .That is, wilt thou, O
God, who art always just, admit of the seat of iniquity:  that is, of
injustice, or unjust judges, to have any partnership with thee?  Thou
who framest, or makest, labour in commandment, that is, thou who
obligest us to labour with all diligence to keep thy commandments.
93:21. They will hunt after the soul of the just, and will condemn
innocent blood.
93:22. But the Lord is my refuge:  and my God the help of my hope.
93:23. And he will render them their iniquity :  and in their malice he
will destroy them:  the Lord our God will destroy them.
Psalms Chapter 94
Venite exultemus.
An invitation to adore and serve God, and to hear his voice.
Praise of a canticle for David himself.
94:1. Come let us praise the Lord with joy:  let us joyfully sing to God
our saviour.
94:2. Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving; and make a
joyful noise to him with psalms.
94:3. For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods.
94:4. For in his hand are all the ends of the earth:  and the heights of
the mountains are his.
94:5. For the sea is his, and he made it:  and his hands formed the dry
94:6. Come let us adore and fall down:  and weep before the Lord that
94:7. For he is the Lord our God:  and we are the people of his pasture
and the sheep of his hand.
94:8. To day if you shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts:
94:9. As in the provocation, according to the day of temptation in the
wilderness:  where your fathers tempted me, they proved me, and saw my
94:10. Forty years long was I offended with that generation, and I
said:  These always err in heart.
94:11. And these men have not known my ways:  so I swore in my wrath
that they shall not enter into my rest.
Psalms Chapter 95
Cantate Domino.
An exhortation to praise God for the coming of Christ and his kingdom.
95:1. A canticle for David himself, when the house was built after the
captivity.  Sing ye to the Lord a new canticle:  sing to the Lord, all
When the house was built, etc. . .Alluding to that time, and then
ordered to be sung:  but principally relating to the building of the
church of Christ, after our redemption from the captivity of Satan.
95:2. Sing ye to the Lord and bless his name:  shew forth his salvation
from day to day.
95:3. Declare his glory among the Gentiles:  his wonders among all
95:4. For the Lord is great, and exceedingly to be praised:  he is to be
feared above all gods.
95:5. For all the gods of the Gentiles are devils:  but the Lord made
the heavens.
95:6. Praise and beauty are before him:  holiness and majesty in his
95:7. Bring ye to the Lord, O ye kindreds of the Gentiles, bring ye to
the Lord glory and honour:
95:8. Bring to the Lord glory unto his name.  Bring up sacrifices, and
come into his courts:
95:9. Adore ye the Lord in his holy court.  Let all the earth be moved
at his presence.
95:10. Say ye among the Gentiles, the Lord hath reigned.  For he hath
corrected the world, which shall not be moved:  he will judge the people
with justice.
95:11. Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad, let the sea
be moved, and the fulness thereof:
95:12. The fields and all things that are in them shall be joyful.  Then
shall all the trees of the woods rejoice
95:13. before the face of the Lord, because he cometh:  because he
cometh to judge the earth.  He shall judge the world with justice, and
the people with his truth.
Psalms Chapter 96
Dominus regnavit.
All are invited to rejoice at the glorious coming and reign of Christ.
96:1. For the same David, when his land was restored again to him.  The
Lord hath reigned, let the earth rejoice:  let many islands be glad.
96:2. Clouds and darkness are round about him:  justice and judgment are
the establishment of his throne.
Clouds and darkness. . .The coming of Christ in the clouds with great
terror and majesty to judge the world, is here prophesied.
96:3. A fire shall go before him, and shall burn his enemies round
96:4. His lightnings have shone forth to the world:  the earth saw and
96:5. The mountains melted like wax, at the presence of the Lord:  at
the presence of the Lord of all the earth.
96:6. The heavens declared his justice:  and all people saw his glory.
96:7. Let them be all confounded that adore graven things, and that
glory in their idols.  Adore him, all you his angels:
96:8. Sion heard, and was glad.  And the daughters of Juda rejoiced,
because of thy judgments, O Lord.
96:9. For thou art the most high Lord over all the earth:  thou art
exalted exceedingly above all gods.
96:10. You that love the Lord, hate evil:  the Lord preserveth the souls
of his saints, he will deliver them out of the hand of the sinner.
96:11. Light is risen to the just, and joy to the right of heart.
96:12. Rejoice, ye just, in the Lord:  and give praise to the
remembrance of his holiness.
Psalms Chapter 97
Cantate Domino.
All are again invited to praise the Lord, for the victories of Christ.
97:1. A psalm for David himself.  Sing ye to the Lord a new canticle:
because he hath done wonderful things.  His right hand hath wrought for
him salvation, and his arm is holy.
97:2. The Lord hath made known his salvation:  he hath revealed his
justice in the sight of the Gentiles.
97:3. He hath remembered his mercy and his truth toward the house of
Israel.  All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.
97:4. Sing joyfully to God, all the earth; make melody, rejoice and
97:5. Sing praise to the Lord on the harp, on the harp, and with the
voice of a psalm:
97:6. With long trumpets, and sound of cornet.  Make a joyful noise
before the Lord our king:
97:7. Let the sea be moved and the fullness thereof:  the world and they
that dwell therein.
97:8. The rivers shall clap their hands, the mountains shall rejoice
97:9. At the presence of the Lord:  because he cometh to judge the
earth.  He shall judge the world with justice, and the people with
Psalms Chapter 98
Dominus regnavit.
The reign of the Lord in Sion:  that is, of Christ in his church.
98:1. A psalm for David himself.  The Lord hath reigned, let the people
be angry:  he that sitteth on the cherubims:  let the earth be moved.
Let the people be angry. . .Though many enemies rage, and the whole
earth be stirred up to oppose the reign of Christ, he shall still
98:2. The lord is great in Sion, and high above all people.
98:3. Let them give praise to thy great name:  for it is terrible and
98:4. And the king's honour loveth judgment.  Thou hast prepared
directions:  thou hast done judgment and justice in Jacob.
Loveth judgment. . .Requireth discretion.--Ibid.  Directions. . .Most
right and just laws to direct men.
98:5. Exalt ye the Lord our God, and adore his footstool, for it is
Adore his footstool. . .The ark of the covenant was called, in the Old
Testament, God's footstool:  over which he was understood to sit, on his
propitiatory, or mercy seat, as on a throne, between the wings of the
cherubims, in the sanctuary:  to which the children of Israel paid a
great veneration.  But as this psalm evidently relates to Christ, and
the New Testament, where the ark has no place, the holy fathers
understand this text, of the worship paid by the church to the body and
blood of Christ in the sacred mysteries:  inasmuch as the humanity of
Christ is, as it were, the footstool of the divinity.  So St. Ambrose,
L. 3.  De Spiritu Sancto, c. 12.  And St. Augustine upon this psalm.
98:6. Moses and Aaron among his priests:  and Samuel among them that
call upon his name.  They called upon the Lord, and he heard them:
Moses and Aaron among his priests. . .By this it is evident, that Moses
also was a priest, and indeed the chief priest, inasmuch as he
consecrated Aaron, and offered sacrifice for him.  Lev. 8.  So that his
pre-eminence over Aaron makes nothing for lay church headship.
98:7. He spoke to them in the pillar of the cloud.  They kept his
testimonies, and the commandment which he gave them.
98:8. Thou didst hear them, O Lord our God:  thou wast a merciful God to
them, and taking vengeance on all their inventions.
All their inventions. . .that is, all the enterprises of their enemies
against them, as in the case of Core, Dathan, and Abiron.
98:9. Exalt ye the Lord our God, and adore at his holy mountain:  for
the Lord our God is holy.
Psalms Chapter 99
Jubilate Deo.
All are invited to rejoice in God the creator of all.
99:1. A psalm of praise.
99:2. Sing joyfully to God, all the earth:  serve ye the Lord with
gladness.  Come in before his presence with exceeding great joy.
99:3. Know ye that the Lord he is God:  he made us, and not we
ourselves.  We are his people and the sheep of his pasture.
99:4. Go ye into his gates with praise, into his courts with hymns:  and
give glory to him.  Praise ye his name:
99:5. For the Lord is sweet, his mercy endureth for ever, and his truth
to generation and generation.
Psalms Chapter 100
Misericordiam et judicium.
The prophet exhorteth all by his example, to follow mercy and justice.
100:1. A psalm for David himself.  Mercy and judgment I will sing to
thee, O Lord:  I will sing,
100:2. And I will understand in the unspotted way, when thou shalt come
to me.  I walked in the innocence of my heart, in the midst of my house.
I will understand, etc. . .That is, I will apply my mind, I will do my
endeavour, to know and to follow the perfect way of thy commandments:
not trusting to my own strength, but relying on thy coming to me by thy
100:3. I will not set before my eyes any unjust thing:  I hated the
workers of iniquities.
100:4. The perverse heart did not cleave to me:  and the malignant, that
turned aside from me, I would not know.
100:5. The man that in private detracted his neighbour, him did I
persecute.  With him that had a proud eye, and an unsatiable heart, I
would not eat.
100:6. My eyes were upon the faithful of the earth, to sit with me:  the
man that walked in the perfect way, he served me.
100:7. He that worketh pride shall not dwell in the midst of my house:
he that speaketh unjust things did not prosper before my eyes.
100:8. In the morning I put to death all the wicked of the land:  that I
might cut off all the workers of iniquity from the city of the Lord.
Psalms Chapter 101
Domine, exaudi.
A prayer for one in affliction:  the fifth penitential psalm.
101:1. The prayer of the poor man, when he was anxious, and poured out
his supplication before the Lord.
101:2. Hear, O Lord, my prayer:  and let my cry come to thee.
101:3. Turn not away thy face from me:  in the day when I am in trouble,
incline thy ear to me.  In what day soever I shall call upon thee, hear
me speedily.
101:4. For my days are vanished like smoke, and my bones are grown dry
like fuel for the fire.
101:5. I am smitten as grass, and my heart is withered:  because I
forgot to eat my bread.
101:6. Through the voice of my groaning, my bone hath cleaved to my
101:7. I am become like to a pelican of the wilderness:  I am like a
night raven in the house.
A pelican, etc. . .I am become through grief, like birds that affect
solitude and darkness.
101:8. I have watched, and am become as a sparrow all alone on the
101:9. All the day long my enemies reproached me:  and they that praised
me did swear against me.
101:10. For I did eat ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with
101:11. Because of thy anger and indignation:  for having lifted me up
thou hast thrown me down.
101:12. My days have declined like a shadow, and I am withered like
101:13. But thou, O Lord, endurest for ever:  and thy memorial to all
generations.
101:14. Thou shalt arise and have mercy on Sion:  for it is time to have
mercy on it, for the time is come.
101:15. For the stones thereof have pleased thy servants:  and they
shall have pity on the earth thereof.
101:16. All the Gentiles shall fear thy name, O Lord, and all the kings
of the earth thy glory.
101:17. For the Lord hath built up Sion:  and he shall be seen in his
101:18. He hath had regard to the prayer of the humble:  and he hath not
despised their petition.
101:19. Let these things be written unto another generation:  and the
people that shall be created shall praise the Lord:
101:20. Because he hath looked forth from his high sanctuary:  from
heaven the Lord hath looked upon the earth.
101:21. That he might hear the groans of them that are in fetters:  that
he might release the children of the slain:
101:22. That they may declare the name of the Lord in Sion:  and his
praise in Jerusalem;
101:23. When the people assemble together, and kings, to serve the
101:24. He answered him in the way of his strength:  Declare unto me the
fewness of my days.
He answered him in the way of his strength. . .That is, the people,
mentioned in the foregoing verse, or the penitent, in whose person this
psalm is delivered, answered the Lord in the way of his strength:  that
is, according to the best of his power and strength:  or when he was in
the flower of his age and strength:  inquiring after the fewness of his
days:  to know if he should live long enough to see the happy
restoration of Sion, etc.
101:25. Call me not away in the midst of my days:  thy years are unto
generation and generation.
101:26. In the beginning, O Lord, thou foundedst the earth:  and the
heavens are the works of thy hands.
101:27. They shall perish but thou remainest:  and all of them shall
grow old like a garment:  And as a vesture thou shalt change them, and
they shall be changed.
101:28. But thou art always the selfsame, and thy years shall not fail.
101:29. The children of thy servants shall continue and their seed
shall be directed for ever.
Psalms Chapter 102
Benedic, anima.
Thanksgiving to God for his mercies.
102:1. For David himself.  Bless the Lord, O my soul:  and let all that
is within me bless his holy name.
102:2. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and never forget all he hath done for
102:3. Who forgiveth all thy iniquities:  who healeth all thy diseases.
102:4. Who redeemeth thy life from destruction:  who crowneth thee with
mercy and compassion.
102:5. Who satisfieth thy desire with good things:  thy youth shall be
renewed like the eagle's.
102:6. The Lord doth mercies, and judgment for all that suffer wrong.
102:7. He hath made his ways known to Moses:  his wills to the children
102:8. The Lord is compassionate and merciful:  longsuffering and
plenteous in mercy.
102:9. He will not always be angry:  nor will he threaten for ever.
102:10. He hath not dealt with us according to our sins:  nor rewarded
us according to our iniquities.
102:11. For according to the height of the heaven above the earth:  he
hath strengthened his mercy towards them that fear him.
102:12. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our
iniquities from us.
102:13. As a father hath compassion on his children, so hath the Lord
compassion on them that fear him:
102:14. For he knoweth our frame.  He remembereth that we are dust:
102:15. Man's days are as grass, as the flower of the field so shall he
102:16. For the spirit shall pass in him, and he shall not be:  and he
shall know his place no more.
102:17. But the mercy of the Lord is from eternity and unto eternity
upon them that fear him:  And his justice unto children's children,
102:18. To such as keep his covenant, And are mindful of his
commandments to do them.
102:19. The lord hath prepared his throne in heaven:  and his kingdom
shall rule over all.
102:20. Bless the Lord, all ye his angels:  you that are mighty in
strength, and execute his word, hearkening to the voice of his orders.
102:21. Bless the Lord, all ye his hosts:  you ministers of his that do
102:22. Bless the Lord, all his works:  in every place of his dominion,
O my soul, bless thou the Lord.
Psalms Chapter 103
Benedic, anima.
God is to be praised for his mighty works, and wonderful providence.
103:1. For David himself.  Bless the Lord, O my soul:  O Lord my God,
thou art exceedingly great.  Thou hast put on praise and beauty:
103:2. And art clothed with light as with a garment.  Who stretchest out
the heaven like a pavilion:
103:3. Who coverest the higher rooms thereof with water.  Who makest the
clouds thy chariot:  who walkest upon the wings of the winds.
103:4. Who makest thy angels spirits:  and thy ministers a burning fire.
103:5. Who hast founded the earth upon its own bases:  it shall not be
moved for ever and ever.
103:6. The deep like a garment is its clothing:  above the mountains
shall the waters stand.
103:7. At thy rebuke they shall flee:  at the voice of thy thunder they
103:8. The mountains ascend, and the plains descend into the place
which thou hast founded for them.
103:9. Thou hast set a bound which they shall not pass over; neither
shall they return to cover the earth.
103:10. Thou sendest forth springs in the vales:  between the midst of
the hills the waters shall pass.
103:11. All the beasts of the field shall drink:  the wild asses shall
expect in their thirst.
103:12. Over them the birds of the air shall dwell:  from the midst of
the rocks they shall give forth their voices.
103:13. Thou waterest the hills from thy upper rooms:  the earth shall
be filled with the fruit of thy works:
103:14. Bringing forth grass for cattle, and herb for the service of
men.  That thou mayst bring bread out of the earth:
103:15. And that wine may cheer the heart of man.  That he may make the
face cheerful with oil:  and that bread may strengthen man's heart.
103:16. The trees of the field shall be filled, and the cedars of
Libanus which he hath planted:
103:17. There the sparrows shall make their nests.  The highest of them
is the house of the heron.
103:18. The high hills are a refuge for the harts, the rock for the
103:19. He hath made the moon for seasons:  the sun knoweth his going
103:20. Thou hast appointed darkness, and it is night:  in it shall all
the beasts of the woods go about:
103:21. The young lions roaring after their prey, and seeking their
meat from God.
103:22. The sun ariseth, and they are gathered together:  and they shall
lie down in their dens.
103:23. Man shall go forth to his work, and to his labour until the
103:24. How great are thy works, O Lord ?  thou hast made all things in
wisdom:  the earth is filled with thy riches.
103:25. So is this great sea, which stretcheth wide its arms:  there are
creeping things without number:  Creatures little and great.
103:26. There the ships shall go.  This sea dragon which thou hast
formed to play therein.
103:27. All expect of thee that thou give them food in season.
103:28. What thou givest to them they shall gather up:  when thou
openest thy hand, they shall all be filled with good.
103:29. But if thou turnest away thy face, they shall be troubled:  thou
shalt take away their breath, and they shall fail, and shall return to
103:30. Thou shalt send forth thy spirit, and they shall be created:
and thou shalt renew the face of the earth.
103:31. May the glory of the Lord endure for ever:  the Lord shall
rejoice in his works.
103:32. He looketh upon the earth, and maketh it tremble:  he troubleth
the mountains, and they smoke.
103:33. I will sing to the Lord as long as I live:  I will sing praise
to my God while I have my being.
103:34. Let my speech be acceptable to him:  but I will take delight in
103:35. Let sinners be consumed out of the earth, and the unjust, so
that they be no more:  O my soul, bless thou the Lord.
Psalms Chapter 104
Confitemini Domino.
A thanksgiving to God for his benefits to his people Israel.
104:1. Give glory to the Lord, and call upon his name:  declare his
deeds among the Gentiles.
104:2. Sing to him, yea sing praises to him:  relate all his wondrous
104:3. Glory ye in his holy name:  let the heart of them rejoice that
seek the Lord.
104:4. Seek ye the lord, and be strengthened:  seek his face evermore.
104:5. Remember his marvellous works which he hath done; his wonders,
and the judgments of his mouth.
104:6. O ye seed of Abraham his servant; ye sons of Jacob his chosen.
104:7. He is the Lord our God:  his judgments are in all the earth.
104:8. He hath remembered his covenant for ever:  the word which he
commanded to a thousand generations.
104:9. Which he made to Abraham; and his oath to Isaac:
104:10. And he appointed the same to Jacob for a law, and to Israel for
an everlasting testament:
104:11. Saying:  To thee will I give the land of Chanaan, the lot of
your inheritance.
104:12. When they were but a small number:  yea very few, and sojourners
104:13. And they passed from nation to nation, and from one kingdom to
another people.
104:14. He suffered no man to hurt them:  and he reproved kings for
their sakes.
104:15. Touch ye not my anointed:  and do no evil to my prophets.
104:16. And he called a famine upon the land:  and he broke in pieces
all the support of bread.
104:17. He sent a man before them:  Joseph, who was sold for a slave.
104:18. They humbled his feet in fetters:  the iron pierced his soul,
104:19. Until his word came.  The word of the Lord inflamed him.
104:20. The king sent, and he released him:  the ruler of the people,
and he set him at liberty.
104:21. He made him master of his house, and ruler of all his
104:22. That he might instruct his princes as himself, and teach his
ancients wisdom.
104:23. And Israel went into Egypt:  and Jacob was a sojourner in the
land of Cham.
104:24. And he increased his people exceedingly:  and strengthened them
over their enemies.
104:25. He turned their heart to hate his people:  and to deal
deceitfully with his servants.
He turned their heart, etc. . .Not that God (who is never the author of
sin) moved the Egyptians to hate and persecute his people; but that the
Egyptians took occasion of hating and envying them, from the sight of
the benefits which God bestowed upon them.
104:26. He sent Moses his servant:  Aaron the man whom he had chosen.
104:27. He gave them power to shew them signs, and his wonders in the
land of Cham.
104:28. He sent darkness, and made it obscure:  and grieved not his
Grieved not his words. . .That is, he was not wanting to fulfil his
words:  or he did not grieve Moses and Aaron, the carriers of his words:
or he did not grieve his words, that is, his sons, the children of
Israel, who enjoyed light whilst the Egyptians were oppressed with
104:29. He turned their waters into blood, and destroyed their fish.
104:30. Their land brought forth frogs, in the inner chambers of their
104:31. He spoke, and there came divers sorts of flies and sciniphs in
all their coasts.
Sciniphs. . .See the annotation, Ex.8.16.
104:32. He gave them hail for rain, a burning fire in the land.
104:33. And he destroyed their vineyards and their fig trees:  and he
broke in pieces the trees of their coasts.
104:34. He spoke, and the locust came, and the bruchus, of which there
was no number.
Bruchus. . .An insect of the locust kind.
104:35. And they devoured all the grass in their land, and consumed all
the fruit of their ground.
104:36. And he slew all the firstborn in their land:  the firstfruits of
all their labour.
104:37. And he brought them out with silver and gold:  and there was not
among their tribes one that was feeble.
104:38. Egypt was glad when they departed:  for the fear of them lay
104:39. He spread a cloud for their protection, and fire to give them
light in the night.
104:40. They asked, and the quail came:  and he filled them with the
bread of heaven.
104:41. He opened the rock, and waters flowed:  rivers ran down in the
104:42. Because he remembered his holy word, which he had spoken to his
servant Abraham.
104:43. And he brought forth his people with joy, and his chosen with
104:44. And he gave them the lands of the Gentiles:  and they possessed
the labours of the people:
104:45. That they might observe his justifications, and seek after his
His justifications. . .That is, his commandments; which here, and in
many other places of the scripture, are called justifications, because
the keeping of them makes man just.  The Protestants render it by the
word statutes, in favour of their doctrine, which does not allow good
works to justify.
Psalms Chapter 105
Confitemini Domino.
A confession of the manifold sins and ingratitudes of the Israelites.
105:1. Give glory to the Lord, for he is good:  for his mercy endureth
105:2. Who shall declare the powers of the Lord?  who shall set forth
all his praises?
105:3. Blessed are they that keep judgment, and do justice at all
105:4. Remember us, O Lord, in the favour of thy people:  visit us with
thy salvation.
105:5. That we may see the good of thy chosen, that we may rejoice in
the joy of thy nation:  that thou mayst be praised with thy inheritance.
105:6. We have sinned with our fathers:  we have acted unjustly, we have
wrought iniquity.
105:7. Our fathers understood not thy wonders in Egypt:  they remembered
not the multitude of thy mercies:  And they provoked to wrath going up
to the sea, even the Red Sea.
105:8. And he saved them for his own name's sake:  that he might make
his power known.
105:9. And he rebuked the Red Sea and it was dried up:  and he led them
through the depths, as in a wilderness.
105:10. And he saved them from the hand of them that hated them:  and he
redeemed them from the hand of the enemy.
105:11. And the water covered them that afflicted them:  there was not
one of them left.
105:12. And they believed his words:  and they sang his praises.
105:13. They had quickly done, they forgot his works:  and they waited
not for his counsel.
105:14. And they coveted their desire in the desert:  and they tempted
God in the place without water.
105:15. And he gave them their request:  and sent fulness into their
105:16. And they provoked Moses in the camp, Aaron the holy one of the
105:17. The earth opened and swallowed up Dathan:  and covered the
congregation of Abiron.
105:18. And a fire was kindled in their congregation:  the flame burned
105:19. They made also a calf in Horeb:  and they adored the graven
105:20. And they changed their glory into the likeness of a calf that
eateth grass.
105:21. They forgot God, who saved them, who had done great things in
105:22. Wondrous works in the land of Cham:  terrible things in the Red
105:23. And he said that he would destroy them:  had not Moses his
chosen stood before him in the breach:  To turn away his wrath, lest he
should destroy them.
105:24. And they set at nought the desirable land.  They believed not
105:25. And they murmured in their tents:  they hearkened not to the
voice of the Lord.
105:26. And he lifted up his hand over them:  to overthrow them in the
105:27. And to cast down their seed among the nations, and to scatter
them in the countries.
105:28. They also were initiated to Beelphegor:  and ate the sacrifices
of the dead.
Initiated. . .That is, they dedicated, or consecrated themselves to the
idol of the Moabites and Madianites, called Beelphegor, or Baal-Peor.
Num. 25.3.--Ibid.  The dead. . .Viz., idols without life.
105:29. And they provoked him with their inventions:  and destruction
was multiplied among them.
105:30. Then Phinees stood up, and pacified him:  and the slaughter
105:31. And it was reputed to him unto justice, to generation and
generation for evermore.
105:32. They provoked him also at the waters of contradiction:  and
Moses was afflicted for their sakes:
105:33. Because they exasperated his spirit.  And he distinguished with
He distinguished with his lips. . .Moses, by occasion of the people's
rebellion and incredulity, was guilty of distinguishing with his lips;
when, instead of speaking to the rock, as God had commanded, he said to
the people, with a certain hesitation in his faith, Hear ye, rebellious
and incredulous:  Can we from this rock bring out water for you?  Num.
105:34. They did not destroy the nations of which the Lord spoke unto
105:35. And they were mingled among the heathens, and learned their
105:36. And served their idols, and it became a stumblingblock to them.
105:37. And they sacrificed their sons, and their daughters to devils.
105:38. And they shed innocent blood:  the blood of their sons and of
their daughters which they sacrificed to the idols of Chanaan.  And the
land was polluted with blood,
105:39. And was defiled with their works:  and they went aside after
their own inventions.
105:40. And the Lord was exceedingly angry with his people:  and he
abhorred his inheritance.
105:41. And he delivered them into the hands of the nations:  and they
that hated them had dominion over them.
105:42. And their enemies afflicted them:  and they were humbled under
their hands:
105:43. Many times did he deliver them.  But they provoked him with
their counsel:  and they were brought low by their iniquities.
105:44. And he saw when they were in tribulation:  and he heard their
105:45. And he was mindful of his covenant:  and repented according to
the multitude of his mercies.
105:46. And he gave them unto mercies, in the sight of all those that
had made them captives.
105:47. Save us, O Lord, our God:  and gather us from among the nations:
That we may give thanks to thy holy name, and may glory in thy praise.
105:48. Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel, from everlasting to
everlasting:  and let all the people say:  So be it, so be it.
Psalms Chapter 106
Confitemini Domino.
All are invited to give thanks to God for his perpetual providence over
106:1. Give glory to the Lord, for he is good:  for his mercy endureth
106:2. Let them say so that have been redeemed by the Lord, whom he
hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy:  and gathered out of the
106:3. From the rising and from the setting of the sun, from the north
and from the sea.
106:4. They wandered in a wilderness, in a place without water:  they
found not the way of a city for their habitation.
106:5. They were hungry and thirsty:  their soul fainted in them.
106:6. And they cried to the Lord in their tribulation:  and he
delivered them out of their distresses.
106:7. And he led them into the right way, that they might go to a city
of habitation.
106:8. Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him:  and his wonderful
works to the children of men.
106:9. For he hath satisfied the empty soul, and hath filled the hungry
soul with good things.
106:10. Such as sat in darkness and in the shadow of death:  bound in
want and in iron.
106:11. Because they had exasperated the words of God:  and provoked the
counsel of the most High:
106:12. And their heart was humbled with labours:  they were weakened,
and there was none to help them.
106:13. Then they cried to the Lord in their affliction:  and he
delivered them out of their distresses.
106:14. And he brought them out of darkness, and the shadow of death;
and broke their bonds in sunder.
106:15. Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him, and his
wonderful works to the children of men.
106:16. Because he hath broken gates of brass, and burst iron bars.
106:17. He took them out of the way of their iniquity:  for they were
brought low for their injustices.
106:18. Their soul abhorred all manner of meat:  and they drew nigh even
to the gates of death.
106:19. And they cried to the Lord in their affliction:  and he
delivered them out of their distresses.
106:20. He sent his word, and healed them:  and delivered them from
their destructions.
106:21. Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him:  and his
wonderful works to the children of men.
106:22. And let them sacrifice the sacrifice of praise:  and declare his
works with joy.
106:23. They that go down to the sea in ships, doing business in the
great waters:
106:24. These have seen the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the
106:25. He said the word, and there arose a storm of wind:  and the
waves thereof were lifted up.
106:26. They mount up to the heavens, and they go down to the depths:
their soul pined away with evils.
106:27. They were troubled, and reeled like a drunken man; and all
their wisdom was swallowed up.
106:28. And they cried to the Lord in their affliction:  and he brought
them out of their distresses.
106:29. And he turned the storm into a breeze:  and its waves were
106:30. And they rejoiced because they were still:  and he brought them
to the haven which they wished for.
106:31. Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him, and his
wonderful works to the children of men.
106:32. And let them exalt him in the church of the people:  and praise
him in the chair of the ancients.
106:33. He hath turned rivers into a wilderness:  and the sources of
waters into dry ground:
106:34. A fruitful land into barrenness, for the wickedness of them
that dwell therein.
106:35. He hath turned a wilderness into pools of waters, and a dry
land into water springs.
106:36. And hath placed there the hungry; and they made a city for
their habitation.
106:37. Anti they sowed fields, and planted vineyards:  and they yielded
fruit of birth.
106:38. And he blessed them, and they were multiplied exceedingly:  and
their cattle he suffered not to decrease.
106:39. Then they were brought to be few:  and they were afflicted
through the trouble of evils and sorrow.
106:40. Contempt was poured forth upon their princes:  and he caused
them to wander where there was no passing, and out of the way.
106:41. And he helped the poor out of poverty:  and made him families
like a flock of sheep.
106:42. The just shall see, and shall rejoice, and all iniquity shall
stop her mouth.
106:43. Who is wise, and will keep these things; and will understand
the mercies of the Lord?
Psalms Chapter 107
Paratum cor meum.
The prophet praiseth God for benefits received.
107:1. A canticle of a psalm for David himself.
107:2. My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready:  I will sing, and
will give praise, with my glory.
107:3. Arise, my glory; arise, psaltery and harp:  I will arise in the
morning early.
107:4. I will praise thee, O Lord, among the people:  and I will sing
unto thee among the nations.
107:5. For thy mercy is great above the heavens:  and thy truth even
unto the clouds.
107:6. Be thou exalted, O God, above the heavens, and thy glory over
all the earth:
107:7. That thy beloved may be delivered.  Save with thy right hand and
107:8. God hath spoken in his holiness.  I will rejoice, and I will
divide Sichem and I will mete out the vale of tabernacles.
107:9. Galaad is mine:  and Manasses is mine and Ephraim the protection
of my head.  Juda is my king:
107:10. Moab the pot of my hope.  Over Edom I will stretch out my shoe:
the aliens are become my friends.
107:11. Who will bring me into the strong city?  who will lead me into
107:12. Wilt not thou, O God, who hast cast us off ?  and wilt not thou,
O God, go forth with our armies?
107:13. O grant us help from trouble:  for vain is the help of man.
107:14. Through God we shall do mightily:  and he will bring our enemies
Psalms Chapter 108
Deus, laudem meam.
David in the person of Christ, prayeth against his persecutors; more
especially the traitor Judas:  foretelling and approving his just
punishment for his obstinacy in sin and final impenitence.
108:1. Unto the end, a psalm for David.
108:2. O God, be not thou silent in my praise:  for the mouth of the
wicked and the mouth of the deceitful man is opened against me.
108:3. They have spoken against me with deceitful tongues; and they
have compassed me about with words of hatred; and have fought against
me without cause.
108:4. Instead of making me a return of love, they detracted me:  but I
gave myself to prayer.
108:5. And they repaid me evil for good:  and hatred for my love.
108:6. Set thou the sinner over him:  and may the devil stand at his
Set thou the sinner over him, etc. . .Give to the devil, that
arch-sinner, power over him:  let him enter into him, and possess him.
The imprecations, contained in the thirty verses of this psalm, are
opposed to the thirty pieces of silver for which Judas betrayed our
Lord; and are to be taken as prophetic denunciations of the evils that
should befall the traitor and his accomplices the Jews; and not
properly as curses.
108:7. When he is judged, may he go out condemned; and may his prayer
be turned to sin.
108:8. May his days be few:  and his bishopric let another take.
108:9. May his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow.
108:10. Let his children be carried about vagabonds, and beg; and let
them be cast out of their dwellings.
108:11. May the usurer search all his substance:  and let strangers
plunder his labours.
108:12. May there be none to help him:  nor none to pity his fatherless
108:13. May his posterity be cut off; in one generation may his name be
blotted out.
108:14. May the iniquity of his fathers be remembered in the sight of
the Lord:  and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out.
108:15. May they be before the Lord continually, and let the memory of
them perish from the earth:
108:16. because he remembered not to shew mercy,
108:17. But persecuted the poor man and the beggar; and the broken in
heart, to put him to death.
108:18. And he loved cursing, and it shall come unto him:  and he would
not have blessing, and it shall be far from him.  And he put on cursing,
like a garment:  and it went in like water into his entrails, and like
oil in his bones.
108:19. May it be unto him like a garment which covereth him; and like
a girdle with which he is girded continually.
108:20. This is the work of them who detract me before the Lord; and
who speak evils against my soul.
108:21. But thou, O Lord, do with me for thy name's sake:  because thy
mercy is sweet.  Do thou deliver me,
108:22. For I am poor and needy, and my heart is troubled within me.
108:23. I am taken away like the shadow when it declineth:  and I am
shaken off as locusts.
108:24. My knees are weakened through fasting:  and my flesh is changed
For oil. . .Propter oleum.  The meaning is, my flesh is changed, being
perfectly emaciated and dried up, as having lost all its oil or
108:25. And I am become a reproach to them:  they saw me and they shaked
their heads.
108:26. Help me, O Lord my God; save me; according to thy mercy.
108:27. And let them know that this is thy hand:  and that thou, O Lord,
hast done it.
108:28. They will curse and thou wilt bless:  let them that rise up
against me be confounded:  but thy servant shall rejoice.
108:29. Let them that detract me be clothed with shame:  and let them be
covered with their confusion as with a double cloak.
108:30. I will give great thanks to the Lord with my mouth:  and in the
midst of many I will praise him.
108:31. Because he hath stood at the right hand of the poor, to save my
soul from persecutors.
Psalms Chapter 109
Dixit Dominus.
Christ's exaltation and everlasting priesthood.
109:1. A psalm for David.  The Lord said to my Lord:  Sit thou at my
right hand:  Until I make thy enemies thy footstool.
109:2. The Lord will send forth the sceptre of thy power out of Sion:
rule thou in the midst of thy enemies.
109:3. With thee is the principality in the day of thy strength:  in the
brightness of the saints:  from the womb before the day star I begot
109:4. The Lord hath sworn, and he will not repent:  Thou art a priest
for ever according to the order of Melchisedech.
109:5. The Lord at thy right hand hath broken kings in the day of his
109:6. He shall judge among nations, he shall fill ruins:  he shall
crush the heads in the land of many.
109:7. He shall drink of the torrent in the way:  therefore shall he
lift up the head.
Psalms Chapter 110
Confitebor tibi, Domine.
God is to be praised for his graces, and benefits to his church.
110:1. I will praise thee, O Lord, with my whole heart; in the council
of the just, and in the congregation.
110:2. Great are the works of the Lord:  sought out according to all his
110:3. His work is praise and magnificence:  and his justice continueth
for ever and ever.
110:4. He hath made a remembrance of his wonderful works, being a
merciful and gracious Lord:
110:5. He hath given food to them that fear him.  He will be mindful for
ever of his covenant:
110:6. He will shew forth to his people the power of his works.
110:7. That he may give them the inheritance of the Gentiles:  the works
of his hands are truth and judgment.
110:8. All his commandments are faithful:  confirmed for ever and ever,
made in truth and equity.
110:9. He hath sent redemption to his people:  he hath commanded his
covenant for ever.  Holy and terrible is his name:
110:10. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.  A good
understanding to all that do it:  his praise continueth for ever and
Psalms Chapter 111
The good man is happy.
Alleluia, of the returning of Aggeus and Zacharias.
Of the returning, etc. . .This is in the Greek and Latin, but not in the
Hebrew.  It signifies that this psalm was proper to be sung at the time
of the return of the people from their captivity; to inculcate to them,
how happy they might be, if they would be constant in the service of
111:1. Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord:  he shall delight
exceedingly in his commandments.
111:2. His seed shall be mighty upon earth:  the generation of the
righteous shall be blessed.
111:3. Glory and wealth shall be in his house:  and his justice
remaineth for ever and ever.
111:4. To the righteous a light is risen up in darkness:  he is
merciful, and compassionate and just.
111:5. Acceptable is the man that sheweth mercy and lendeth:  he shall
order his words with judgment:
111:6. Because he shall not be moved for ever.
111:7. The just shall be in everlasting remembrance:  he shall not fear
the evil hearing.  His heart is ready to hope in the Lord:
111:8. His heart is strengthened, he shall not be moved until he look
over his enemies.
111:9. He hath distributed, he hath given to the poor:  his justice
remaineth for ever and ever:  his horn shall be exalted in glory.
111:10. The wicked shall see, and shall be angry, he shall gnash with
his teeth and pine away:  the desire of the wicked shall perish.
Psalms Chapter 112
Laudate, pueri.
God is to be praised for his regard to the poor and humble.
112:1. Praise the Lord, ye children:  praise ye the name of the Lord.
112:2. Blessed be the name of the Lord, from henceforth now and for
112:3. From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same, the
name of the Lord is worthy of praise.
112:4. The Lord is high above all nations; and his glory above the
112:5. Who is as the Lord our God, who dwelleth on high:
112:6. and looketh
down on the low things in heaven and in earth?
112:7. Raising up the needy from the earth, and lifting up the poor out
of the dunghill:
112:8. That he may place him with princes, with the princes of his
112:9. Who maketh a barren woman to dwell in a house, the joyful mother
of children.
Psalms Chapter 113
In exitu Israel.
God hath shewn his power in delivering his people:  idols are vain.  The
Hebrews divide this into two psalms.
113:1. When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a
barbarous people:
113:2. Judea was made his sanctuary, Israel his dominion.
113:3. The sea saw and fled:  Jordan was turned back.
113:4. The mountains skipped like rams, and the hills like the lambs of
113:5. What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thou didst flee: and thou,
O Jordan, that thou wast turned back?
113:6. Ye mountains, that ye skipped like rams, and ye hills, like
lambs of the flock?
113:7. At the presence of the Lord the earth was moved, at the presence
of the God of Jacob:
113:8. Who turned the rock into pools of water, and the stony hill into
fountains of waters.
113:1. Not to us, O Lord, not to us; but to thy name give glory.
113:2. For thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake:  lest the Gentiles
should say:  Where is their God?
113:3. But our God is in heaven:  he hath done all things whatsoever he
113:4. The idols of the Gentiles are silver and gold, the works of the
hands of men.
113:5. They have mouths and speak not:  they have eyes and see not.
113:6. They have ears and hear not:  they have noses and smell not.
113:7. They have hands and feel not:  they have feet and walk not:
neither shall they cry out through their throat.
113:8. Let them that make them become like unto them:  and all such as
trust in them.
113:9. The house of Israel hath hoped in the Lord:  he is their helper
and their protector.
113:10. The house of Aaron hath hoped in the Lord:  he is their helper
and their protector.
113:11. They that fear the Lord have hoped in the Lord:  he is their
helper and their protector.
113:12. The Lord hath been mindful of us, and hath blessed us.  He hath
blessed the house of Israel:  he hath blessed the house of Aaron.
113:13. He hath blessed all that fear the Lord, both little and great.
113:14. May the Lord add blessings upon you:  upon you, and upon your
113:15. Blessed be you of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
113:16. The heaven of heaven is the Lord's:  but the earth he has given
to the children of men.
113:17. The dead shall not praise thee, O Lord:  nor any of them that go
down to hell.
113:18. But we that live bless the Lord:  from this time now and for
Psalms Chapter 114
The prayer of a just man in affliction, with a lively confidence in
114:1. I have loved, because the Lord will hear the voice of my prayer.
114:2. Because he hath inclined his ear unto me:  and in my days I will
call upon him.
114:3. The sorrows of death have compassed me:  and the perils of hell
have found me.  I met with trouble and sorrow:
114:4. And I called upon the name of the Lord.  O Lord, deliver my soul.
114:5. The Lord is merciful and just, and our God sheweth mercy.
114:6. The Lord is the keeper of little ones:  I was humbled, and he
delivered me.
114:7. Turn, O my soul, into thy rest:  for the Lord hath been bountiful
114:8. For he hath delivered my soul from death:  my eyes from tears, my
feet from falling.
114:9. I will please the Lord in the land of the living.
Psalms Chapter 115
This in the Hebrew is joined with the foregoing psalm, and continues to
express the faith and gratitude of the psalmist.
115:10. I have believed, therefore have I spoken; but I have
been humbled exceedingly.
115:11. I said in my excess:  Every man is a liar.
115:12. What shall I render to the Lord, for all the things that he
hath rendered to me?
115:13. I will take the chalice of salvation; and I will call upon the
name of the Lord.
115:14. I will pay my vows to the Lord before all his people:
115:15. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.
115:16. O Lord, for I am thy servant:  I am thy servant, and the son of
thy handmaid.  Thou hast broken my bonds:
115:17. I will sacrifice to thee the sacrifice of praise, and I will
call upon the name of the Lord.
115:18. I will pay my vows to the Lord in the sight of all his people:
115:19. In the courts of the house of the Lord, in the midst of thee, O
Psalms Chapter 116
Laudate Dominum.
All nations are called upon to praise God for his mercy and truth.
116:1. O Praise the Lord, all ye nations:  praise him, all ye people.
116:2. For his mercy is confirmed upon us:  and the truth of the Lord
remaineth for ever.
Psalms Chapter 117
Confitemini Domino.
The psalmist praiseth God for his delivery from evils:  putteth his
whole trust in him; and foretelleth the coming of Christ.
117:1. Give praise to the Lord, for he is good:  for his mercy endureth
117:2. Let Israel now say, that he is good:  that his mercy endureth for
117:3. Let the house of Aaron now say, that his mercy endureth for
117:4. Let them that fear the Lord now say, that his mercy endureth for
117:5. In my trouble I called upon the Lord:  and the Lord heard me, and
enlarged me.
117:6. The Lord is my helper:  I will not fear what man can do unto me.
117:7. The Lord is my helper:  and I will look over my enemies.
117:8. It is good to confide in the Lord, rather than to have
confidence in man.
117:9. It is good to trust in the Lord, rather than to trust in
117:10. All nations compassed me about; and, in the name of the Lord I
have been revenged on them.
117:11. Surrounding me they compassed me about:  and in the name of the
Lord I have been revenged on them.
117:12. They surrounded me like bees, and they burned like fire among
thorns:  and in the name of the Lord I was revenged on them.
117:13. Being pushed I was overturned that I might fall:  but the Lord
supported me.
117:14. The Lord is my strength and my praise:  and he is become my
117:15. The voice of rejoicing and of salvation is in the tabernacles
of the just.
117:16. The right hand of the Lord hath wrought strength:  the right
hand of the Lord hath exalted me:  the right hand of the Lord hath
wrought strength.
117:17. I shall not die, but live:  and shall declare the works of the
117:18. The Lord chastising hath chastised me:  but he hath not
delivered me over to death.
117:19. Open ye to me the gates of justice:  I will go in to them, and
give praise to the Lord.
117:20. This is the gate of the Lord, the just shall enter into it.
117:21. I will give glory to thee because thou hast heard me:  and art
become my salvation.
117:22. The stone which the builders rejected; the same is become the
head of the corner.
117:23. This is the Lord's doing , and it is wonderful in our eyes.
117:24. This is the day which the Lord hath made:  let us be glad and
rejoice therein.
117:25. O Lord, save me:  O Lord, give good success.
117:26. Blessed be he that cometh in the name of the Lord.  We have
blessed you out of the house of the Lord.
117:27. The Lord is God, and he hath shone upon us.  Appoint a solemn
day, with shady boughs, even to the horn of the altar.
117:28. Thou art my God, and I will praise thee:  thou art my God, and I
will exalt thee.  I will praise thee, because thou hast heard me, and
art become my salvation.
117:29. O praise ye the Lord, for he is good:  for his mercy endureth
Psalms Chapter 118
Beati immaculati.
Of the excellence of virtue consisting in the love and observance of
the commandments of God.
Aleph. . .The first eight verses of this psalm in the original begin
with Aleph, which is the name of the first letter of the Hebrew
alphabet.  The second eight verses begin with Beth, the name of the
second letter of the Hebrew alphabet; and so to the end of the whole
alphabet, in all twenty-two letters, each letter having eight verses.
This order is variously expounded by the holy fathers; which shews the
difficulty of understanding the holy scriptures, and consequently with
what humility, and submission to the Church they are to be read.
118:1. Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the
118:2. Blessed are they that search his testimonies:  that seek him with
their whole heart.
His testimonies. . .The commandments of God are called his testimonies,
because they testify his holy will unto us.  Note here, that in almost
every verse of this psalm (which in number are 176) the word and law of
God, and the love and observance of it, is perpetually inculcated,
under a variety of denominations, all signifying the same thing.
118:3. For they that work iniquity, have not walked in his ways.
118:4. Thou hast commanded thy commandments to be kept most diligently.
118:5. O! that my ways may be directed to keep thy justifications.
118:6. Then shall I not be confounded, when I shall look into all thy
commandments.
118:7. I will praise thee with uprightness of heart, when I shall have
learned the judgments of thy justice.
118:8. I will keep thy justifications:  O! do not thou utterly forsake
118:9. By what doth a young man correct his way?  by observing thy
118:10. With my whole heart have I sought after thee:  let me not stray
from thy commandments.
118:11. Thy words have I hidden in my heart, that I may not sin against
118:12. Blessed art thou, O Lord:  teach me thy justifications.
118:13. With my lips I have pronounced all the judgments of thy mouth.
118:14. I have been delighted in the way of thy testimonies, as in all
118:15. I will meditate on thy commandments:  and I will consider thy
118:16. I will think of thy justifications:  I will not forget thy
118:17. Give bountifully to thy servant, enliven me:  and I shall keep
118:18. Open thou my eyes:  and I will consider the wondrous things of
118:19. I am a sojourner on the earth:  hide not thy commandments from
118:20. My soul hath coveted to long for thy justifications, at all
118:21. Thou hast rebuked the proud:  they are cursed who decline from
thy commandments.
118:22. Remove from me reproach and contempt:  because I have sought
after thy testimonies.
118:23. For princes sat, and spoke against me:  but thy servant was
employed in thy justifications.
118:24. For thy testimonies are my meditation:  and thy justifications
118:25. My soul hath cleaved to the pavement:  quicken thou me according
to thy word.
118:26. I have declared my ways, and thou hast heard me:  teach me thy
justifications.
118:27. Make me to understand the way of thy justifications:  and I
shall be exercised in thy wondrous works.
118:28. My soul hath slumbered through heaviness:  strengthen thou me in
118:29. Remove from me the way of iniquity:  and out of thy law have
mercy on me.
118:30. I have chosen the way of truth:  thy judgments I have not
118:31. I have stuck to thy testimonies, O Lord:  put me not to shame.
118:32. I have run the way of thy commandments, when thou didst enlarge
118:33. Set before me for a law the way of thy justifications, O Lord:
and I will always seek after it.
118:34. Give me understanding, and I will search thy law; and I will
keep it with my whole heart.
118:35. Lead me into the path of thy commandments; for this same I have
118:36. Incline my heart into thy testimonies and not to covetousness.
118:37. Turn away my eyes that they may not behold vanity:  quicken me
118:38. Establish thy word to thy servant, in thy fear.
118:39. Turn away my reproach, which I have apprehended:  for thy
judgments are delightful.
118:40. Behold I have longed after thy precepts:  quicken me in thy
118:41. Let thy mercy also come upon me, O Lord:  thy salvation
according to thy word.
118:42. So shall I answer them that reproach me in any thing; that I
have trusted in thy words.
118:43. And take not thou the word of truth utterly out of my mouth:
for in thy words, I have hoped exceedingly.
118:44. So shall I always keep thy law, for ever and ever.
118:45. And I walked at large:  because I have sought after thy
commandments.
118:46. And I spoke of thy testimonies before kings:  and I was not
118:47. I meditated also on thy commandments, which I loved.
118:48. And I lifted up my hands to thy commandments, which I loved:
and I was exercised in thy justifications.
118:49. Be thou mindful of thy word to thy servant, in which thou hast
given me hope.
118:50. This hath comforted me in my humiliation:  because thy word hath
enlivened me.
118:51. The proud did iniquitously altogether:  but I declined not from
118:52. I remembered, O Lord, thy judgments of old:  and I was
118:53. A fainting hath taken hold of me, because of the wicked that
forsake thy law.
118:54. Thy justifications were the subject of my song, in the place of
my pilgrimage.
118:55. In the night I have remembered thy name, O Lord:  and have kept
118:56. This happened to me:  because I sought after thy justifications.
118:57. O Lord, my portion, I have said, I would keep thy law.
118:58. I entreated thy face with all my heart:  have mercy on me
according to thy word.
118:59. I have thought on my ways:  and turned my feet unto thy
testimonies.
118:60. I am ready, and am not troubled:  that I may keep thy
commandments.
118:61. The cords of the wicked have encompassed me:  but I have not
forgotten thy law.
118:62. I rose at midnight to give praise to thee; for the judgments of
thy justification.
118:63. I am a partaker with all them that fear thee, and that keep thy
commandments.
118:64. The earth, O Lord, is full of thy mercy:  teach me thy
justifications.
118:65. Thou hast done well with thy servant, O Lord, according to thy
118:66. Teach me goodness and discipline and knowledge; for I have
believed thy commandments.
118:67. Before I was humbled I offended; therefore have I kept thy
118:68. Thou art good; and in thy goodness teach me thy justifications.
118:69. The iniquity of the proud hath been multiplied over me:  but I
will seek thy commandments with my whole heart.
118:70. Their heart is curdled like milk:  but I have meditated on thy
118:71. It is good for me that thou hast humbled me, that I may learn
thy justifications.
118:72. The law of thy mouth is good to me, above thousands of gold and
118:73. Thy hands have made me and formed me:  give me understanding,
and I will learn thy commandments.
118:74. They that fear thee shall see me, and shall be glad :  because I
have greatly hoped in thy words.
118:75. I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are equity:  and in thy truth
thou hast humbled me.
118:76. O! let thy mercy be for my comfort, according to thy word unto
thy servant.
118:77. Let thy tender mercies come unto me, and I shall live:  for thy
law is my meditation.
118:78. Let the proud be ashamed, because they have done unjustly
towards me:  but I will be employed in thy commandments.
118:79. Let them that fear thee turn to me:  and they that know thy
testimonies.
118:80. Let my heart be undefiled in thy justifications, that I may not
be confounded.
118:81. My soul hath fainted after thy salvation:  and in thy word I
have very much hoped.
118:82. My eyes have failed for thy word, saying:  When wilt thou
118:83. For I am become like a bottle in the frost:  I have not
forgotten thy justifications.
118:84. How many are the days of thy servant:  when wilt thou execute
judgment on them that persecute me?
118:85. The wicked have told me fables:  but not as thy law.
118:86. All thy statutes are truth:  they have persecuted me unjustly,
do thou help me.
118:87. They had almost made an end of me upon earth:  but I have not
forsaken thy commandments.
118:88. Quicken thou me according to thy mercy:  and I shall keep the
testimonies of thy mouth.
118:89. For ever, O Lord, thy word standeth firm in heaven.
118:90. Thy truth unto all generations:  thou hast founded the earth,
and it continueth.
118:91. By thy ordinance the day goeth on:  for all things serve thee.
118:92. Unless thy law had been my meditation, I had then perhaps
perished in my abjection.
118:93. Thy justifications I will never forget:  for by them thou hast
given me life.
118:94. I am thine, save thou me:  for I have sought thy justifications.
118:95. The wicked have waited for me to destroy me:  but I have
understood thy testimonies.
118:96. I have seen an end of all perfection:  thy commandment is
exceeding broad.
118:97. O how have I loved thy law, O Lord! it is my meditation all the
118:98. Through thy commandment, thou hast made me wiser than my
enemies:  for it is ever with me.
118:99. I have understood more than all my teachers:  because thy
testimonies are my meditation.
118:100. I have had understanding above ancients:  because I have sought
thy commandments.
118:101. I have restrained my feet from every evil way:  that I may keep
118:102. I have not declined from thy judgments, because thou hast set
118:103. How sweet are thy words to my palate! more than honey to my
118:104. By thy commandments I have had understanding:  therefore have I
hated every way of iniquity.
118:105. Thy word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my paths.
118:106. I have sworn and am determined to keep the judgments of thy
118:107. I have been humbled, O Lord, exceedingly:  quicken thou me
according to thy word.
118:108. The free offerings of my mouth make acceptable, O Lord:  and
teach me thy judgments.
118:109. My soul is continually in my hands:  and I have not forgotten
118:110. Sinners have laid a snare for me:  but I have not erred from
thy precepts.
118:111. I have purchased thy testimonies for an inheritance for ever:
because they are the joy of my heart.
118:112. I have inclined my heart to do thy justifications for ever,
for the reward.
118:113. I have hated the unjust:  and have loved thy law.
118:114. Thou art my helper and my protector:  and in thy word I have
greatly hoped.
118:115. Depart from me, ye malignant:  and I will search the
commandments of my God.
118:116. Uphold me according to thy word, and I shall live:  and let me
not be confounded in my expectation.
118:117. Help me, and I shall be saved:  and I will meditate always on
thy justifications.
118:118. Thou hast despised all them that fall off from thy judgments;
for their thought is unjust.
118:119. I have accounted all the sinners of the earth prevaricators:
therefore have I loved thy testimonies.
118:120. Pierce thou my flesh with thy fear:  for I am afraid of thy
118:121. I have done judgment and justice:  give me not up to them that
118:122. Uphold thy servant unto good:  let not the proud calumniate me.
118:123. My eyes have fainted after thy salvation:  and for the word of
thy justice.
118:124. Deal with thy servant according to thy mercy:  and teach me thy
justifications.
118:125. I am thy servant:  give me understanding that I may know thy
testimonies.
118:126. It is time, O Lord, to do:  they have dissipated thy law.
118:127. Therefore have I loved thy commandments above gold and the
118:128. Therefore was I directed to all thy commandments:  I have hated
all wicked ways.
118:129. Thy testimonies are wonderful:  therefore my soul hath sought
118:130. The declaration of thy words giveth light:  and giveth
understanding to little ones.
118:131. I opened my mouth, and panted:  because I longed for thy
commandments.
118:132. Look thou upon me, and have mercy on me according to the
judgment of them that love thy name.
118:133. Direct my steps according to thy word:  and let no iniquity
have dominion over me.
118:134. Redeem me from the calumnies of men:  that I may keep thy
commandments.
118:135. Make thy face to shine upon thy servant:  and teach me thy
justifications.
118:136. My eyes have sent forth springs of water:  because they have
not kept thy law.
118:137. Thou art just, O Lord:  and thy judgment is right.
118:138. Thou hast commanded justice thy testimonies:  and thy truth
exceedingly.
118:139. My zeal hath made me pine away:  because my enemies forgot thy
118:140. Thy word is exceedingly refined:  and thy servant hath loved
118:141. I am very young and despised; but I forget not thy
justifications.
118:142. Thy justice is justice for ever:  and thy law is the truth.
118:143. Trouble and anguish have found me:  thy commandments are my
118:144. Thy testimonies are justice for ever:  give me understanding,
and I shall live.
118:145. I cried with my whole heart, hear me, O Lord:  I will seek thy
justifications.
118:146. I cried unto thee, save me:  that I may keep thy commandments.
118:147. I prevented the dawning of the day, and cried:  because in thy
words I very much hoped.
118:148. My eyes to thee have prevented the morning:  that I might
meditate on thy words.
118:149. Hear thou my voice, O Lord, according to thy mercy:  and
quicken me according to thy judgment.
118:150. They that persecute me have drawn nigh to iniquity; but they
are gone far off from thy law.
118:151. Thou art near, O Lord:  and all thy ways are truth.
118:152. I have known from the beginning concerning thy testimonies:
that thou hast founded them for ever.
118:153. See my humiliation and deliver me for I have not forgotten thy
118:154. Judge my judgment and redeem me:  quicken thou me for thy
word's sake.
118:155. Salvation is far from sinners; because they have not sought
thy justifications.
118:156. Many, O Lord, are thy mercies:  quicken me according to thy
118:157. Many are they that persecute me and afflict me; but I have not
declined from thy testimonies.
118:158. I beheld the transgressors, and pined away; because they kept
not thy word.
118:159. Behold I have loved thy commandments, O Lord; quicken me thou
in thy mercy.
118:160. The beginning of thy words is truth:  all the judgments of thy
justice are for ever.
118:161. Princes have persecuted me without cause:  and my heart hath
been in awe of thy words.
118:162. I will rejoice at thy words, as one that hath found great
118:163. I have hated and abhorred iniquity; but I have loved thy law.
118:164. Seven times a day I have given praise to thee, for the
judgments of thy justice.
118:165. Much peace have they that love thy law, and to them there is
no stumbling.  block.
118:166. I looked for thy salvation, O Lord:  and I loved thy
commandments.
118:167. My soul hath kept thy testimonies and hath loved them
exceedingly.
118:168. I have kept thy commandments and thy testimonies:  because all
my ways are in thy sight.
118:169. Let my supplication, O Lord, come near in thy sight:  give me
understanding according to thy word.
118:170. Let my request come in before thee; deliver thou me according
to thy word.
118:171. My lips shall utter a hymn, when thou shalt teach me thy
justifications.
118:172. My tongue shall pronounce thy word:  because all thy
commandments are justice.
118:173. Let thy hand be with me to save me; for I have chosen thy
118:174. I have longed for thy salvation, O Lord; and thy law is my
118:175. My soul shall live and shall praise thee:  and thy judgments
shall help me.
118:176. I have gone astray like a sheep that is lost:  seek thy
servant, because I have not forgotten thy commandments.
Psalms Chapter 119
A prayer in tribulation.
A gradual canticle.
A gradual canticle. . .The following psalms, in number fifteen, are
called gradual psalms, or canticles, from the word gradus, signifying
steps, ascensions, or degrees:  either because they were appointed to be
sung on the fifteen steps, by which the people ascended to the temple:
or, that in the singing of them the voice was to be raised by certain
steps or ascensions:  or, that they were to be sung by the people
returning from their captivity and ascending to Jerusalem, which was
seated amongst mountains.  The holy fathers, in a mystical sense,
understand these steps, or ascensions, of the degrees by which
Christians spiritually ascend to virtue and perfection; and to the true
temple of God in the heavenly Jerusalem.
119:1. In my trouble I cried to the Lord:  and he heard me.
119:2. O Lord, deliver my soul from wicked lips, and a deceitful
119:3. What shall be given to thee, or what shall be added to thee, to
a deceitful tongue?
119:4. The sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals that lay waste.
119:5. Woe is me, that my sojourning is prolonged!  I have dwelt with
the inhabitants of Cedar:
119:6. My soul hath been long a sojourner.
119:7. With them that hated peace I was peaceable:  when I spoke to them
they fought against me without cause.
Psalms Chapter 120
Levavi oculos.
God is the keeper of his servants.
A gradual canticle.
120:1. I have lifted up my eyes to the mountains, from whence help
shall come to me.
120:2. My help is from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
120:3. May he not suffer thy foot to be moved:  neither let him slumber
that keepeth thee.
120:4. Behold he shall neither slumber nor sleep, that keepeth Israel.
120:5. The Lord is thy keeper, the Lord is thy protection upon thy
120:6. The sun shall not burn thee by day:  nor the moon by night.
120:7. The Lord keepeth thee from all evil:  may the Lord keep thy soul.
120:8. May the Lord keep thy coming in and thy going out; from
henceforth now and for ever.
Psalms Chapter 121
Laetatus sum in his.
The desire and hope of the just for the coming of the kingdom of God,
and the peace of his church.
121:1. A gradual canticle.
I rejoiced at the things that were said to me:  We shall go into the
house of the Lord.
121:2. Our feet were standing in thy courts, O Jerusalem.
121:3. Jerusalem, which is built as a city, which is compact together.
121:4. For thither did the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord:  the
testimony of Israel, to praise the name of the Lord.
121:5. Because their seats have sat in judgment, seats upon the house
121:6. Pray ye for the things that are for the peace of Jerusalem:  and
abundance for them that love thee.
121:7. Let peace be in thy strength:  and abundance in thy towers.
121:8. For the sake of my brethren, and of my neighbours, I spoke peace
121:9. Because of the house of the Lord our God, I have sought good
things for thee.
Psalms Chapter 122
Ad te levavi.
A prayer in affliction, with confidence in God.
A gradual canticle.
122:1. To thee have I lifted up my eyes, who dwellest in heaven.
122:2. Behold as the eyes of servants are on the hands of their
masters, As the eyes of the handmaid are on the hands of her mistress:
so are our eyes unto the Lord our God, until he have mercy on us.
122:3. Have mercy on us, O Lord, have mercy on us:  for we are greatly
filled with contempt.
122:4. For our soul is greatly filled:  we are a reproach to the rich,
and contempt to the proud.
Psalms Chapter 123
Nisi quia Domini.
The church giveth glory to God for her deliverance, from the hands of
her enemies.
123:1. A gradual canticle.  If it had not been that the Lord was with
us, let Israel now say:
123:2. If it had not been that the Lord was with us, When men rose up
123:3. Perhaps they had swallowed us up alive.  When their fury was
enkindled against us,
123:4. Perhaps the waters had swallowed us up.
123:5. Our soul hath passed through a torrent:  perhaps our soul had
passed through a water insupportable.
123:6. Blessed be the Lord, who hath not given us to be a prey to their
123:7. Our soul hath been delivered as a sparrow out of the snare of
the fowlers.  The snare is broken, and we are delivered.
123:8. Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Psalms Chapter 124
Qui confidunt.
The just are always under God's protection.
124:1. A gradual canticle.  They that trust in the Lord shall be as
mount Sion:  he shall not be moved for ever that dwelleth
124:2. In Jerusalem.  Mountains are round about it:  so the Lord is round
about his people from henceforth now and for ever.
124:3. For the Lord will not leave the rod of sinners upon the lot of
the just:  that the just may not stretch forth their hands to iniquity.
124:4. Do good, O Lord, to those that are good, and to the upright of
124:5. But such as turn aside into bonds, the Lord shall lead out with
the workers of iniquity:  peace upon Israel.
Psalms Chapter 125
In convertendo.
The people of God rejoice at their delivery from captivity.
125:1. A gradual canticle.  When the Lord brought back the captivity of
Sion, we became like men comforted.
125:2. Then was our mouth filled with gladness; and our tongue with
joy.  Then shall they say among the Gentiles:  The Lord hath done great
things for them.
125:3. The Lord hath done great things for us:  we are become joyful.
125:4. Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as a stream in the south.
125:5. They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
125:6. Going they went and wept, casting their seeds.
125:7. But coming they shall come with joyfulness, carrying their
Psalms Chapter 126
Nisi Dominus.
Nothing can be done without God's grace and blessing.
126:1. A gradual canticle of Solomon.  Unless the Lord build the house,
they labour in vain that build it.  Unless the Lord keep the city, he
watcheth in vain that keepeth it.
126:2. It is vain for you to rise before light, rise ye after you have
sitten, you that eat the bread of sorrow.  When he shall give sleep to
his beloved,
It is vain for you to rise before light. . .That is, your early rising,
your labour and worldly solicitude, will be vain, that is, will avail
you nothing, without the light, grace, and blessing of God.
126:3. Behold the inheritance of the Lord are children:  the reward, the
fruit of the womb.
126:4. As arrows in the hand of the mighty, so the children of them
that have been shaken.
126:5. Blessed is the man that hath filled the desire with them; he
shall not be confounded when he shall speak to his enemies in the gate.
Psalms Chapter 127
Beati omnes.
The fear of God is the way to happiness.
127:1. A gradual canticle.  Blessed are all they that fear the Lord:
that walk in his ways.
127:2. For thou shalt eat the labours of thy hands:  blessed art thou,
and it shall be well with thee.
127:3. Thy wife as a fruitful vine, on the sides of thy house.  Thy
children as olive plants, round about thy table.
127:4. Behold, thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.
127:5. May the Lord bless thee out of Sion:  and mayst thou see the good
things of Jerusalem all the days of thy life.
127:6. And mayst thou see thy children's children, peace upon Israel.
Psalms Chapter 128
Saepe expugnaverunt.
The church of God is invincible :  her persecutors come to nothing.
128:1. A gradual canticle.  Often have they fought against me from my
youth, let Israel now say.
128:2. Often have they fought against me from my youth:  but they could
not prevail over me.
128:3. The wicked have wrought upon my back:  they have lengthened their
128:4. The Lord who is just will cut the necks of sinners:
128:5. Let them all be confounded and turned back that hate Sion.
128:6. Let them be as grass upon the tops of houses:  which withereth
before it be plucked up:
128:7. Who with the mower filleth not his hand:  nor he that gathereth
sheaves his bosom.
128:8. And they that passed by have not said:  The blessing of the Lord
be upon you:  we have blessed you in the name of the Lord.
Psalms Chapter 129
De profundis.
A prayer of a sinner, trusting in the mercies of God.  The sixth
penitential psalm.
129:1. A gradual canticle.  Out of the depths I have cried to thee, O
129:2. Lord, hear my voice.  Let thy ears be attentive to the voice of
my supplication.
129:3. If thou, O Lord, wilt mark iniquities:  Lord, who shall stand it.
129:4. For with thee there is merciful forgiveness:  and by reason of
thy law, I have waited for thee, O Lord.  My soul hath relied on his
129:5. my soul hath hoped in the Lord.
129:6. From the morning watch even until night, let Israel hope in the
129:7. Because with the Lord there is mercy:  and with him plentiful
129:8. And he shall redeem Israel from all his iniquities.
Psalms Chapter 130
Domine, none est.
The prophet's humility.
130:1. A gradual canticle of David.  Lord, my heart is not exalted:  nor
are my eyes lofty.  Neither have I walked in great matters, nor in
wonderful things above me.
130:2. If I was not humbly minded, but exalted my soul:  As a child that
is weaned is towards his mother, so reward in my soul.
130:3. Let Israel hope in the Lord, from henceforth now and for ever.
Psalms Chapter 131
Memento, Domine.
A prayer for the fulfilling of the promise made to David.
131:1. A gradual canticle.  O Lord, remember David, and all his
131:2. How he swore to the Lord, he vowed a vow to the God of Jacob:
131:3. If I shall enter into the tabernacle of my house:  if I shall go
up into the bed wherein I lie:
131:4. If I shall give sleep to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids,
131:5. Or rest to my temples:  until I find out a place for the Lord, a
tabernacle for the God of Jacob.
131:6. Behold we have heard of it in Ephrata:  we have found it in the
fields of the wood.
We have heard of it in Ephrata. . .When I was young, and lived in
Bethlehem, otherwise called Ephrata, I heard of God's tabernacle and
ark, and had a devout desire of seeking it; and accordingly I found it
at Cariathiarim, the city of the woods:  where it was till it was
removed to Jerusalem.  See 1 Par. 13.
131:7. We will go into his tabernacle:  we will adore in the place where
his feet stood.
131:8. Arise, O Lord, into thy resting place:  thou and the ark, which
thou hast sanctified.
131:9. Let thy priests be clothed with justice:  and let thy saints
131:10. For thy servant David's sake, turn not away the face of thy
131:11. The Lord hath sworn truth to David, and he will not make it
void:  of the fruit of thy womb I will set upon thy throne.
131:12. If thy children will keep my covenant, and these my testimonies
which I shall teach them:  Their children also for evermore shall sit
upon thy throne.
131:13. For the Lord hath chosen Sion:  he hath chosen it for his
131:14. This is my rest for ever and ever:  here will I dwell, for I
have chosen it.
131:15. Blessing I will bless her widow:  I will satisfy her poor with
131:16. I will clothe her priests with salvation, and her saints shall
rejoice with exceeding great joy.
131:17. There will I bring forth a horn to David:  I have prepared a
lamp for my anointed.
131:18. His enemies I will clothe with confusion:  but upon him shall my
sanctification flourish.
Psalms Chapter 132
Ecce quam bonum.
The happiness of brotherly love and concord.
132:1. A gradual canticle of David.  Behold how good and how pleasant it
is for brethren to dwell together in unity:
132:2. Like the precious ointment on the head, that ran down upon the
beard, the beard of Aaron, Which ran down to the skirt of his garment:
132:3. As the dew of Hermon, which descendeth upon mount Sion.  For
there the Lord hath commanded blessing, and life for evermore.
Psalms Chapter 133
Ecce nunc benedicite.
An exhortation to praise God continually.
133:1. A gradual canticle.  Behold now bless ye the Lord, all ye
servants of the Lord:  Who stand in the house of the Lord, in the courts
of the house of our God.
133:2. In the nights lift up your hands to the holy places, and bless
ye the Lord.
133:3. May the Lord out of Sion bless thee, he that made heaven and
Psalms Chapter 134
Laudate nomen.
An exhortation to praise God:  the vanity of idols.
134:1. Alleluia.  Praise ye the name of the Lord:  O you his servants,
praise the Lord:
134:2. You that stand in the house of the Lord, in the courts of the
house of our God.
134:3. Praise ye the Lord, for the Lord is good:  sing ye to his name,
for it is sweet.
134:4. For the Lord hath chosen Jacob unto himself:  Israel for his own
134:5. For I have known that the Lord is great, and our God is above
134:6. Whatsoever the Lord pleased he hath done, in heaven, in earth,
in the sea, and in all the deeps.
134:7. He bringeth up clouds from the end of the earth:  he hath made
lightnings for the rain.  He bringeth forth winds out of his stores:
134:8. He slew the firstborn of Egypt from man even unto beast.
134:9. He sent forth signs and wonders in the midst of thee, O Egypt:
upon Pharao, and upon all his servants.
134:10. He smote many nations, and slew mighty kings:
134:11. Sehon king of the Amorrhites, and Og king of Basan, and all the
kingdoms of Chanaan.
134:12. And gave their land for an inheritance, for an inheritance to
his people Israel.
134:13. Thy name, O Lord, is for ever:  thy memorial, O Lord, unto all
generations.
134:14. For the Lord will judge his people, and will be entreated in
favour of his servants.
134:15. The idols of the Gentiles are silver and gold, the works of
men's hands.
134:16. They have a mouth, but they speak not:  they have eyes, but they
134:17. They have ears, but they hear not:  neither is there any breath
in their mouths.
134:18. Let them that make them be like to them:  and every one that
trusteth in them.
134:19. Bless the Lord, O house of Israel:  bless the Lord, O house of
134:20. Bless the Lord, O house of Levi:  you that fear the Lord, bless
134:21. Blessed be the Lord out of Sion, who dwelleth in Jerusalem.
Psalms Chapter 135
Confitemini Domino.
God is to be praised for his wonderful works.
135:1. Alleluia.  Praise the Lord, for he is good:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
Praise the Lord. . .By this invitation to praise the Lord, thrice
repeated, we profess the Blessed Trinity, One God in three distinct
Persons, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
135:2. Praise ye the God of gods:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:3. Praise ye the Lord of lords:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:4. Who alone doth great wonders:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:5. Who made the heavens in understanding:  for his mercy endureth
135:6. Who established the earth above the waters:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
135:7. Who made the great lights:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:8. The sun to rule the day:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:9. The moon and the stars to rule the night:  for his mercy endureth
135:10. Who smote Egypt with their firstborn:  for his mercy endureth
135:11. Who brought out Israel from among them:  for his mercy endureth
135:12. With a mighty hand and with a stretched out arm:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
135:13. Who divided the Red Sea into parts:  for his mercy endureth for
135:14. And brought out Israel through the midst thereof:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
135:15. And overthrew Pharao and his host in the Red Sea:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
135:16. Who led his people through the desert:  for his mercy endureth
135:17. Who smote great kings:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:18. And slew strong kings:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:19. Sehon king of the Amorrhites:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:20. And Og king of Basan:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:21. And he gave their land for an inheritance:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
135:22. For an inheritance to his servant Israel:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
135:23. For he was mindful of us in our affliction:  for his mercy
endureth for ever.
135:24. And he redeemed us from our enemies:  for his mercy endureth for
135:25. Who giveth food to all flesh:  for his mercy endureth for ever.
135:26. Give glory to the God of heaven:  for his mercy endureth for
135:27. Give glory to the Lord of lords:  for his mercy endureth for
Psalms Chapter 136
Super flumina.
The lamentation of the people of God in their captivity in Babylon.
A psalm of David, for Jeremias.
For Jeremias. . .For the time of Jeremias, and the captivity of Babylon.
136:1. Upon the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept:  when we
remembered Sion:
136:2. On the willows in the midst thereof we hung up our instruments.
136:3. For there they that led us into captivity required of us the
words of songs.  And they that carried us away, said:  Sing ye to us a
hymn of the songs of Sion.
136:4. How shall we sing the song of the Lord in a strange land?
136:5. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgotten.
136:6. Let my tongue cleave to my jaws, if I do not remember thee:  If I
make not Jerusalem the beginning of my joy.
136:7. Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom, in the day of Jerusalem:
Who say:  Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof.
136:8. O daughter of Babylon, miserable:  blessed shall he be who shall
repay thee thy payment which thou hast paid us.
136:9. Blessed be he that shall take and dash thy little ones against
Dash thy little ones, etc. . .In the spiritual sense, we dash the little
ones of Babylon against the rock, when we mortify our passions, and
stifle the first motions of them, by a speedy recourse to the rock
which is Christ.
Psalms Chapter 137
Confitebor tibi.
Thanksgiving to God for his benefits.
137:1. For David himself.  I will praise thee, O Lord, with my whole
heart:  for thou hast heard the words of my mouth.  I will sing praise to
thee in the sight of the angels:
137:2. I will worship towards thy holy temple, and I will give glory to
thy name.  For thy mercy, and for thy truth:  for thou hast magnified thy
holy name above all.
137:3. In what day soever I shall call upon thee, hear me:  thou shalt
multiply strength in my soul.
137:4. May all the kings of the earth give glory to thee:  for they have
heard all the words of thy mouth.
137:5. And let them sing in the ways of the Lord:  for great is the
glory of the Lord.
137:6. For the Lord is high, and looketh on the low:  and the high he
knoweth afar off.
137:7. If I shall walk in the midst of tribulation, thou wilt quicken
me:  and thou hast stretched forth thy hand against the wrath of my
enemies:  and thy right hand hath saved me.
137:8. The Lord will repay for me:  thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for
ever:  O despise not the works of thy hands.
Psalms Chapter 138
Domine, probasti.
God's special providence over his servants.
138:1. Unto the end, a psalm of David.  Lord, thou hast proved me, and
138:2. Thou hast known my sitting down, and my rising up.
138:3. Thou hast understood my thoughts afar off:  my path and my line
thou hast searched out.
138:4. And thou hast foreseen all my ways:  for there is no speech in my
There is no speech, etc. . .Viz., unknown to thee:  or when there is no
speech in my tongue; yet my whole interior and my most secret thoughts
are known to thee.
138:5. Behold, O Lord, thou hast known all things, the last and those
of old:  thou hast formed me, and hast laid thy hand upon me.
138:6. Thy knowledge is become wonderful to me:  it is high, and I
cannot reach to it.
138:7. Whither shall I go from thy spirit?  or whither shall I flee from
138:8. If I ascend into heaven, thou art there:  if I descend into hell,
thou art present.
138:9. If I take my wings early in the morning, and dwell in the
uttermost parts of the sea:
138:10. Even there also shall thy hand lead me:  and thy right hand
shall hold me.
138:11. And I said:  Perhaps darkness shall cover me:  and night shall be
my light in my pleasures.
138:12. But darkness shall not be dark to thee, and night shall be
light all the day:  the darkness thereof, and the light thereof are
alike to thee.
138:13. For thou hast possessed my reins:  thou hast protected me from
my mother's womb.
138:14. I will praise thee, for thou art fearfully magnified:  wonderful
are thy works, and my soul knoweth right well.
138:15. My bone is not hidden from thee, which thou hast made in
secret:  and my substance in the lower parts of the earth.
138:16. Thy eyes did see my imperfect being, and in thy book all shall
be written:  days shall be formed, and no one in them.
138:17. But to me thy friends, O God, are made exceedingly honourable:
their principality is exceedingly strengthened.
138:18. I will number them, and they shall be multiplied above the
sand, I rose up and am still with thee.
138:19. If thou wilt kill the wicked, O God:  ye men of blood, depart
138:20. Because you say in thought:  They shall receive thy cities in
Because you say in thought, etc. . .Depart from me, you wicked, who plot
against the servants of God, and think to cast them out of the cities
of their habitation; as if they have received them in vain, and to no
138:21. Have I not hated them, O Lord, that hated thee:  and pined away
because of thy enemies?
138:22. I have hated them with a perfect hatred:  and they are become
enemies to me.
I have hated them. . .Not with an hatred of malice, but a zeal for the
observance of God's commandments; which he saw were despised by the
wicked, who are to be considered enemies to God.
138:23. Prove me, O God, and know my heart:  examine me, and know my
138:24. And see if there be in me the way of iniquity:  and lead me in
the eternal way.
Psalms Chapter 139
Eripe me, Domine.
A prayer to be delivered from the wicked.
139:1. Unto the end, a psalm of David.
139:2. Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man:  rescue me from the unjust
139:3. Who have devised iniquities in their hearts:  all the day long
they designed battles.
139:4. They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent:  the venom of
asps is under their lips.
139:5. Keep me, O Lord, from the hand of the wicked:  and from unjust
men deliver me.  Who have proposed to supplant my steps:
139:6. The proud have hidden a net for me.  And they have stretched out
cords for a snare:  they have laid for me a stumblingblock by the
139:7. I said to the Lord:  Thou art my God:  hear, O Lord, the voice of
my supplication.
139:8. O Lord, Lord, the strength of my salvation:  thou hast
overshadowed my head in the day of battle.
139:9. Give me not up, O Lord, from my desire to the wicked:  they have
plotted against me; do not thou forsake me, lest they should triumph.
139:10. The head of them compassing me about:  the labour of their lips
shall overwhelm them.
139:11. Burning coals shall fall upon them; thou wilt cast them down
into the fire:  in miseries they shall not be able to stand.
139:12. A man full of tongue shall not be established in the earth:
evil shall catch the unjust man unto destruction.
139:13. I know that the Lord will do justice to the needy, and will
revenge the poor.
139:14. But as for the just, they shall give glory to thy name:  and the
upright shall dwell with thy countenance.
Psalms Chapter 140
Domine, clamavi.
A prayer against sinful words, and deceitful flatterers.
A psalm of David.
140:1. I have cried to thee, O Lord, hear me:  hearken to my voice, when
I cry to thee.
140:2. Let my prayer be directed as incense in thy sight; the lifting
up of my hands, as evening sacrifice.
140:3. Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth:  and a door round about my
140:4. Incline not my heart to evil words; to make excuses in sins.
With men that work iniquity:  and I will not communicate with the
choicest of them.
140:5. The just man shall correct me in mercy, and shall reprove me:
but let not the oil of the sinner fatten my head.  For my prayer shall
still be against the things with which they are well pleased:
Let not the oil of the sinner, etc. . .That is, the flattery, or
deceitful praise.--Ibid.  For my prayer, etc. . .So far from coveting
their praises, who are never well pleased but with things that are
evil; I shall continually pray to be preserved from such things as they
are delighted with.
140:6. Their judges falling upon the rock have been swallowed up.  They
shall hear my words, for they have prevailed:
Their judges, etc. . .Their rulers, or chiefs, quickly vanish and
perish, like ships dashed against the rocks, and swallowed up by the
waves.  Let them then hear my words, for they are powerful and will
prevail; or, as it is in the Hebrew, for they are sweet.
140:7. As when the thickness of the earth is broken up upon the ground:
Our bones are scattered by the side of hell.
140:8. But to thee, O Lord, Lord, are my eyes:  in thee have I put my
trust, take not away my soul.
140:9. Keep me from the snare, which they have laid for me, and from
the stumblingblocks of them that work iniquity.
140:10. The wicked shall fall in his net:  I am alone until I pass.
I am alone, etc. . .Singularly protected by the Almighty, until I pass
all their nets and snares.
Psalms Chapter 141
A prayer of David in extremity of danger.
141:1. Of understanding for David, A prayer when he was in the cave.  [1
141:2. I cried to the Lord with my voice:  with my voice I made
supplication to the Lord.
141:3. In his sight I pour out my prayer, and before him I declare my
141:4. When my spirit failed me, then thou knewest my paths.  In this
way wherein I walked, they have hidden a snare for me.
141:5. I looked on my right hand, and beheld, and there was no one that
would know me.  Flight hath failed me:  and there is no one that hath
regard to my soul.
141:6. I cried to thee, O Lord:  I said:  Thou art my hope, my portion in
the land of the living.
141:7. Attend to my supplication:  for I am brought very low.  Deliver me
from my persecutors; for they are stronger than I.
141:8. Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name:  the
just wait for me, until thou reward me.
Psalms Chapter 142
Domine, exaudi.
The psalmist in tribulation calleth upon God for his delivery.  The
seventh penitential psalm.
142:1. A psalm of David, when his son Absalom pursued him.  [2 Kings 17.]
Hear, O Lord, my prayer:  give ear to my supplication in thy truth:
hear me in thy justice.
142:2. And enter not into judgment with thy servant:  for in thy sight
no man living shall be justified.
142:3. For the enemy hath persecuted my soul:  he hath brought down my
life to the earth.  He hath made me to dwell in darkness as those that
have been dead of old:
142:4. And my spirit is in anguish within me:  my heart within me is
142:5. I remembered the days of old, I meditated on all thy works:  I
meditated upon the works of thy hands.
142:6. I stretched forth my hands to thee:  my soul is as earth without
water unto thee.
142:7. Hear me speedily, O Lord:  my spirit hath fainted away.  Turn not
away thy face from me, lest I be like unto them that go down into the
142:8. Cause me to hear thy mercy in the morning; for in thee have I
hoped.  Make the way known to me, wherein I should walk:  for I have
lifted up my soul to thee.
142:9. Deliver me from my enemies, O Lord, to thee have I fled:
142:10. Teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God.  Thy good spirit
shall lead me into the right land:
142:11. for thy name's sake, O Lord, thou wilt quicken me in thy justice.
Thou wilt bring my soul out of trouble:
142:12. And in thy mercy thou wilt destroy my enemies.  And thou wilt
cut off all them that afflict my soul:  for I am thy servant.
Psalms Chapter 143
Benedictus Dominus.
The prophet praiseth God, and prayeth to be delivered from his enemies.
No worldly happiness is to be compared with that of serving God.
A psalm of David against Goliath.
143:1. Blessed be the Lord my God, who teacheth my hands to fight, and
my fingers to war.
143:2. My mercy, and my refuge:  my support, and my deliverer:  My
protector, and I have hoped in him:  who subdueth my people under me.
143:3. Lord, what is man, that thou art made known to him?  or the son
of man, that thou makest account of him?
143:4. Man is like to vanity:  his days pass away like a shadow.
143:5. Lord, bow down thy heavens and descend:  touch the mountains, and
they shall smoke.
143:6. Send forth lightning, and thou shalt scatter them:  shoot out thy
arrows, and thou shalt trouble them.
143:7. Put forth thy hand from on high, take me out, and deliver me
from many waters:  from the hand of strange children:
143:8. Whose mouth hath spoken vanity:  and their right hand is the
right hand of iniquity.
143:9. To thee, O God, I will sing a new canticle:  on the psaltery and
an instrument of ten strings I will sing praises to thee.
143:10. Who givest salvation to kings:  who hast redeemed thy servant
David from the malicious sword:
143:11. Deliver me, And rescue me out of the hand of strange children;
whose mouth hath spoken vanity:  and their right hand is the right hand
of iniquity:
143:12. Whose sons are as new plants in their youth:  Their daughters
decked out, adorned round about after the similitude of a temple:
143:13. Their storehouses full, flowing out of this into that.  Their
sheep fruitful in young, abounding in their goings forth:
143:14. Their oxen fat.  There is no breach of wall, nor passage, nor
crying out in their streets.
143:15. They have called the people happy, that hath these things:  but
happy is that people whose God is the Lord.
Psalms Chapter 144
Exaltabo te, Deus.
A psalm of praise, to the infinite majesty of God.
144:1. Praise, for David himself.  I will extol thee, O God my king:  and
I will bless thy name for ever; yea, for ever and ever.
144:2. Every day will I bless thee:  and I will praise thy name for
ever; yea, for ever and ever.
144:3. Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised:  and of his
greatness there is no end.
144:4. Generation and generation shall praise thy works:  and they shall
declare thy power.
144:5. They shall speak of the magnificence of the glory of thy
holiness:  and shall tell thy wondrous works.
144:6. And they shall speak of the might of thy terrible acts:  and
shall declare thy greatness.
144:7. They shall publish the memory of the abundance of thy sweetness:
and shall rejoice in thy justice.
144:8. The Lord is gracious and merciful:  patient and plenteous in
144:9. The Lord is sweet to all:  and his tender mercies are over all
144:10. Let all thy works, O lord, praise thee:  and let thy saints
144:11. They shall speak of the glory of thy kingdom:  and shall tell of
144:12. To make thy might known to the sons of men:  and the glory of
the magnificence of thy kingdom.
144:13. Thy kingdom is a kingdom of all ages:  and thy dominion endureth
throughout all generations.  The Lord is faithful in all his words:  and
holy in all his works.
144:14. The Lord lifteth up all that fall:  and setteth up all that are
144:15. The eyes of all hope in thee, O Lord:  and thou givest them meat
in due season.
144:16. Thou openest thy hand, and fillest with blessing every living
144:17. The Lord is just in all his ways:  and holy in all his works.
144:18. The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him:  to all that
call upon him in truth.
144:19. He will do the will of them that fear him:  and he will hear
their prayer, and save them.
144:20. The Lord keepeth all them that love him; but all the wicked he
will destroy.
144:21. My mouth shall speak the praise of the Lord:  and let all flesh
bless his holy name forever; yea, for ever and ever.
Psalms Chapter 145
Lauda, anima.
We are not to trust in men, but in God alone.
145:1. Alleluia, of Aggeus and Zacharias.
145:2. Praise the Lord, O my soul, in my life I will praise the Lord:  I
will sing to my God as long as I shall be.  Put not your trust in
145:3. In the children of men, in whom there is no salvation.
145:4. His spirit shall go forth, and he shall return into his earth:
in that day all their thoughts shall perish.
145:5. Blessed is he who hath the God of Jacob for his helper, whose
hope is in the Lord his God:
145:6. Who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all things that are in
145:7. Who keepeth truth for ever:  who executeth judgment for them that
suffer wrong:  who giveth food to the hungry.  The Lord looseth them that
are fettered:
145:8. The Lord enlighteneth the blind.  The Lord lifteth up them that
are cast down:  the Lord loveth the just.
145:9. The Lord keepeth the strangers, he will support the fatherless
and the widow:  and the ways of sinners he will destroy.
145:10. The Lord shall reign for ever:  thy God, O Sion, unto generation
and generation.
Psalms Chapter 146
Laudate Dominum.
An exhortation to praise God for his benefits.
146:1. Alleluia.  Praise ye the Lord, because psalm is good:  to our God
be joyful and comely praise.
146:2. The Lord buildeth up Jerusalem:  he will gather together the
dispersed of Israel.
146:3. Who healeth the broken of heart, and bindeth up their bruises.
146:4. Who telleth the number of the stars:  and calleth them all by
their names.
146:5. Great is our Lord, and great is his power:  and of his wisdom
there is no number.
146:6. The Lord lifteth up the meek, and bringeth the wicked down even
to the ground.
146:7. Sing ye to the Lord with praise:  sing to our God upon the harp.
146:8. Who covereth the heaven with clouds, and prepareth rain for the
earth.  Who maketh grass to grow on the mountains, and herbs for the
service of men.
146:9. Who giveth to beasts their food:  and to the young ravens that
call upon him.
146:10. He shall not delight in the strength of the horse:  nor take
pleasure in the legs of a man.
146:11. The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear him:  and in them
that hope in his mercy.
Psalms Chapter 147
Lauda, Jerusalem.
The church is called upon to praise God for his peculiar graces and
favours to his people.  In the Hebrew, this psalm is joined to the
147:12. Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem:  praise thy God, O Sion.
147:13. Because he hath strengthened the bolts of thy gates, he hath
blessed thy children within thee.
147:14. Who hath placed peace in thy borders:  and filleth thee with the
fat of corn.
147:15. Who sendeth forth his speech to the earth:  his word runneth
147:16. Who giveth snow like wool:  scattereth mists like ashes.
147:17. He sendeth his crystal like morsels:  who shall stand before the
face of his cold?
He sendeth his crystal. . .That is, his ice.  Some understand it of hail,
which is, as it were, ice, divided into particles or morsels.
147:18. He shall send out his word, and shall melt them:  his wind shall
blow, and the waters shall run.
147:19. Who declareth his word to Jacob:  his justices and his judgments
147:20. He hath not done in like manner to every nation:  and his
judgments he hath not made manifest to them.  Alleluia.
Psalms Chapter 148
Laudate Dominum de caelis.
All creatures are invited to praise their Creator.
148:1. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens:  praise ye him in the high
148:2. Praise ye him, all his angels, praise ye him, all his hosts.
148:3. Praise ye him, O sun and moon:  praise him, all ye stars and
148:4. Praise him, ye heavens of heavens:  and let all the waters that
are above the heavens
148:5. Praise the name of the Lord.  For he spoke, and they were made:
he commanded, and they were created.
148:6. He hath established them for ever, and for ages of ages:  he hath
made a decree, and it shall not pass away.
148:7. Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons, and all ye deeps:
148:8. Fire, hail, snow, ice, stormy winds, which fulfil his word:
148:9. Mountains and all hills, fruitful trees and all cedars:
148:10. Beasts and all cattle:  serpents and feathered fowls:
148:11. Kings of the earth and all people:  princes and all judges of
148:12. Young men and maidens:  let the old with the younger, praise the
name of the Lord:
148:13. For his name alone is exalted.
148:14. The praise of him is above heaven and earth:  and he hath
exalted the horn of his people.  A hymn to all his saints to the
children of Israel, a people approaching to him.  Alleluia.
Psalms Chapter 149
Cantate Domino.
The church is particularly bound to praise God.
149:1. Sing ye to the Lord a new canticle:  let his praise be in the
church of the saints.
149:2. Let Israel rejoice in him that made him:  and let the children of
Sion be joyful in their king.
149:3. Let them praise his name in choir:  let them sing to him with the
timbrel and the psaltery.
149:4. For the Lord is well pleased with his people:  and he will exalt
the meek unto salvation.
149:5. The saints shall rejoice in glory:  they shall be joyful in their
149:6. The high praises of God shall be in their mouth:  and two-edged
swords in their hands:
149:7. To execute vengeance upon the nations, chastisements among the
149:8. To bind their kings with fetters, and their nobles with manacles
149:9. To execute upon them the judgment that is written:  this glory is
to all his saints.  Alleluia.
Psalms Chapter 150
Laudate Dominum in sanctis.
An exhortation to praise God with all sorts of instruments.
150:1. Praise ye the Lord in his holy places:  praise ye him in the
firmament of his power.
150:2. Praise ye him for his mighty acts:  praise ye him according to
the multitude of his greatness.
150:3. Praise him with the sound of trumpet:  praise him with psaltery
150:4. Praise him with timbrel and choir:  praise him with strings and
150:5. Praise him on high sounding cymbals:  praise him on cymbals of
joy:  let every spirit praise the Lord.  Alleluia.
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS
This Book is so called, because it consists of wise and weighty
sentences:  regulating the morals of men:  and directing them to wisdom
and virtue.  And these sentences are also called PARABLES, because great
truths are often couched in them under certain figures and similitudes.
Proverbs Chapter 1
The use and end of the proverbs.  An exhortation to flee the company of
the wicked:  and to hearken to the voice of wisdom.
1:1. The parables of Solomon, the son of David, king of Israel,
1:2. To know wisdom, and instruction:
1:3. To understand the words of prudence:  and to receive the
instruction of doctrine, justice, and judgment, and equity:
1:4. To give subtilty to little ones, to the young man knowledge and
understanding.
1:5. A wise man shall hear, and shall be wiser:  and he that
understandeth shall possess governments.
1:6. He shall understand a parable and the interpretation, the words of
the wise, and their mysterious sayings.
1:7. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.  Fools despise
wisdom and instruction.
1:8. My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the
law of thy mother:
1:9. That grace may be added to thy head, and a chain of gold to thy
1:10. My son, if sinners shall entice thee, consent not to them.
1:11. If they shall say:  Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood,
let us hide snares for the innocent without cause:
1:12. Let us swallow him up alive like hell, and whole as one that
goeth down into the pit.
1:13. We shall find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses
with spoils.
1:14. Cast in thy lot with us, let us all have one purse.
1:15. My son, walk not thou with them, restrain thy foot from their
1:16. For their feet run to evil, and make haste to shed blood.
1:17. But a net is spread in vain before the eyes of them that have
1:18. And they themselves lie in wait for their own blood, and practise
deceits against their own souls.
1:19. So the ways of every covetous man destroy the souls of the
1:20. Wisdom preacheth abroad, she uttereth her voice in the streets:
1:21. At the head of multitudes she crieth out, in the entrance of the
gates of the city she uttereth her words, saying:
1:22. O children, how long will you love childishness, and fools covet
those things which are hurtful to themselves, and the unwise hate
1:23. Turn ye at my reproof:  behold I will utter my spirit to you, and
will shew you my words.
1:24. Because I called, and you refused:  I stretched out my hand, and
there was none that regarded.
1:25. You have despised all my counsel, and have neglected my
reprehensions.
1:26. I also will laugh in your destruction, and will mock when that
shall come to you which you feared.
1:27. When sudden calamity shall fall on you, and destruction, as a
tempest, shall be at hand:  when tribulation and distress shall come
1:28. Then shall they call upon me, and I will not hear:  they shall
rise in the morning, and shall not find me:
1:29. Because they have hated instruction, and received not the fear of
1:30. Nor consented to my counsel, but despised all my reproof.
1:31. Therefore they shall eat the fruit of their own way, and shall be
filled with their own devices.
1:32. The turning away of little ones shall kill them, and the
prosperity of fools shall destroy them.
1:33. But he that shall hear me, shall rest without terror, and shall
enjoy abundance, without fear of evils.
Proverbs Chapter 2
The advantages of wisdom:  and the evils from which it delivers.
2:1. My son, if thou wilt receive my words, and wilt hide my
commandments with thee,
2:2. That thy ear may hearken to wisdom:  incline thy heart to know
2:3. For if thou shalt call for wisdom, and incline thy heart to
2:4. If thou shalt seek her as money, and shalt dig for her as for a
2:5. Then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and shalt find
the knowledge of God:
2:6. Because the Lord giveth wisdom:  and out of his mouth cometh
prudence and knowledge.
2:7. He wilt keep the salvation of the righteous, and protect them that
walk in simplicity,
2:8. Keeping the paths of justice, and guarding the ways of saints.
2:9. Then shalt thou understand justice, and judgment, and equity, and
every good path.
2:10. If wisdom shall enter into thy heart, and knowledge please thy
2:11. Counsel shall keep thee, and prudence shall preserve thee,
2:12. That thou mayst be delivered from the evil way, and from the man
that speaketh perverse things:
2:13. Who leave the right way, and walk by dark ways:
2:14. Who are glad when they have done evil, and rejoice in the most
wicked things:
2:15. Whose ways are perverse, and their steps infamous.
2:16. That thou mayst be delivered from the strange woman, and from the
stranger, who softeneth her words;
2:17. And forsaketh the guide of her youth,
2:18. And hath forgotten the covenant of her God:  for her house
inclineth unto death, and her paths to hell.
2:19. None that go in unto her, shall return again, neither shall they
take hold of the paths of life.
2:20. That thou mayst walk in a good way:  and mayst keep the paths of
2:21. For they that are upright, shall dwell in the earth; and the
simple shall continue in it.
2:22. But the wicked shall be destroyed from the earth:  and they that
do unjustly, shall be taken away from it.
Proverbs Chapter 3
An exhortation to the practice of virtue.
3:1. My son, forget not my law, and let thy heart keep my commandments.
3:2. For they shall add to thee length of days, and years of life, and
3:3. Let not mercy aud truth leave thee, put them about thy neck, and
write them in the tables of thy heart.
3:4. And thou shalt find grace, and good understanding before God and
3:5. Have confidence in the Lord with all thy heart, and lean not upon
thy own prudence.
3:6. In all thy ways think on him, and he will direct thy steps.
3:7. Be not wise in thy own conceit:  fear God, and depart from evil:
3:8. For it shall be health to thy navel, and moistening to thy bones.
3:9. Honour the Lord with thy substance, and give him of the first of
all thy fruits;
3:10. And thy barns shall be filled with abundance, and thy presses
shall run over with wine.
3:11. My son, reject not the correction of the Lord:  and do not faint
when thou art chastised by him:
3:12. For whom the Lord loveth, he chastiseth:  and as a father in the
son he pleaseth himself.
3:13. Blessed is the man that findeth wisdom, and is rich in prudence:
3:14. The purchasing thereof is better than the merchandise of silver,
and her fruit than the chief and purest gold:
3:15. She is more precious than all riches:  and all the things that are
desired, are not to be compared to her.
3:16. Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches
3:17. Her ways are beautiful ways, and all her paths are peaceable.
3:18. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold on her:  and he that
shall retain her is blessed.
3:19. The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth, hath established the
heavens by prudence.
3:20. By his wisdom the depths have broken out, and the clouds grow
thick with dew.
3:21. My son, let not these things depart from thy eyes:  keep the law
and counsel:
3:22. And there shall be life to thy soul, and grace to thy mouth.
3:23. Then shalt thou walk confidently in thy way, and thy foot shall
not stumble:
3:24. If thou sleep, thou shalt not fear:  thou shalt rest, and thy
sleep shall be sweet.
3:25. Be not afraid of sudden fear, nor of the power of the wicked
falling upon thee.
3:26. For the Lord will be at thy side, and will keep thy foot that
thou be not taken.
3:27. Do not withhold him from doing good, who is able:  if thou art
able, do good thyself also.
3:28. Say not to thy friend:  Go, and come again:  and to morrow I will
give to thee:  when thou canst give at present.
3:29. Practise not evil against thy friend, when he hath confidence in
3:30. Strive not against a man without cause, when he hath done thee no
3:31. Envy not the unjust man, and do not follow his ways.
3:32. For every mocker is an abomination to the Lord, and his
communication is with the simple.
3:33. Want is from the Lord in the house of the wicked:  but the
habitations of the just shall be blessed.
3:34. He shall scorn the scorners, and to the meek he will give grace.
3:35. The wise shall possess glory:  the promotion of fools is disgrace.
Proverbs Chapter 4
A further exhortation to seek after wisdom.
4:1. Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend, that
you may know prudence.
4:2. I will give you a good gift, forsake not my law.
4:3. For I also was my father's son, tender, and as an only son in the
sight of my mother:
4:4. And he taught me, and said:  Let thy heart receive my words, keep
my commandments, and thou shalt live.
4:5. Get wisdom, get prudence:  forget not, neither decline from the
words of my mouth.
4:6. Forsake her not, and she shall keep thee:  love her, and she shall
preserve thee.
4:7. The beginning of wisdom, get wisdom, and with all thy possession
purchase prudence.
4:8. Take hold on her, and she shall exalt thee:  thou shalt be
glorified by her, when thou shalt embrace her.
4:9. She shall give to thy head increase of graces, and protect thee
with a noble crown.
4:10. Hear, O my son, and receive my words, that years of life may be
multiplied to thee.
4:11. I will shew thee the way of wisdom, I will lead thee by the paths
4:12. Which when thou shalt have entered, thy steps shall not be
straitened, and when thou runnest, thou shalt not meet a
stumblingblock.
4:13. Take hold on instruction, leave it not:  keep it, because it is
4:14. Be not delighted in the paths of the wicked, neither let the way
of evil men please thee.
4:15. Flee from it, pass not by it:  go aside, and forsake it.
4:16. For they sleep not, except they have done evil:  and their sleep
is taken away unless they have made some to fall.
4:17. They eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the wine of iniquity.
4:18. But the path of the just, as a shining light, goeth forwards, and
increaseth even to perfect day.
4:19. The way of the wicked is darksome:  they know not where they fall.
4:20. My son, hearken to my words, and incline thy ear to my sayings.
4:21. Let them not depart from thy eyes, keep them in the midst of thy
4:22. For they are life to those that find them, and health to all
4:23. With all watchfulness keep thy heart, because life issueth out
4:24. Remove from thee a froward mouth, and let detracting lips be far
4:25. Let thy eyes look straight on, and let thy eyelids go before thy
4:26. Make straight the path for thy feet, and all thy ways shall be
established.
4:27. Decline not to the right hand, nor to the left:  turn away thy
foot from evil.  For the Lord knoweth the ways that are on the right
hand:  but those are perverse which are on the left hand.  But he will
make thy courses straight, he will bring forward thy ways in peace.
Proverbs Chapter 5
An exhortation to fly unlawful lust, and the occasions of it.
5:1. My son, attend to my wisdom, and incline thy ear to my prudence,
5:2. That thou mayst keep thoughts, and thy lips may preserve
instruction.  Mind not the deceit of a woman.
5:3. For the lips of a harlot are like a honeycomb dropping, and her
throat is smoother than oil.
5:4. But her end is bitter as wormwood, and sharp as a two-edged sword.
5:5. Her feet go down into death, and her steps go in as far as hell.
5:6. They walk not by the path of life, her steps are wandering, and
unaccountable.
5:7. Now, therefore, my son, hear me, and depart not from the words of
5:8. Remove thy way far from her, and come not nigh the doors of her
5:9. Give not thy honour to strangers, and thy years to the cruel.
5:10. Lest strangers be filled with thy strength, and thy labours be in
another man's house,
5:11. And thou mourn at the last, when thou shalt have spent thy flesh
and thy body, and say;
5:12. Why have I hated instruction, and my heart consented not to
5:13. And have not heard the voice of them that taught me, and have not
inclined my ear to masters?
5:14. I have almost been in all evil, in the midst of the church and of
the congregation.
5:15. Drink water out of thy own cistern, and the streams of thy own
5:16. Let thy fountains be conveyed abroad, and in the streets divide
5:17. Keep them to thyself alone, neither let strangers be partakers
5:18. Let thy vein be blessed, and rejoice with the wife of thy youth:
5:19. Let her be thy dearest hind, and most agreeable fawn:  let her
breasts inebriate thee at all times:  be thou delighted continually with
5:20. Why art thou seduced, my son, by a strange woman, and art
cherished in the bosom of another?
5:21. The Lord beholdeth the ways of man, and considereth all his
5:22. His own iniquities catch the wicked, and he is fast bound with
the ropes of his own sins.
5:23. He shall die, because he hath not received instruction, and in
the multitude of his folly he shall be deceived.
Proverbs Chapter 6
Documents on several heads.
6:1. My son, if thou be surety for thy friend, thou hast engaged fast
thy hand to a stranger,
6:2. Thou art ensnared with the words of thy mouth, and caught with thy
6:3. Do, therefore, my son, what I say, and deliver thyself:  because
thou art fallen into the hand of thy neighbour.  Run about, make haste,
stir up thy friend:
6:4. Give not sleep to thy eyes, neither let thy eyelids slumber.
6:5. Deliver thyself as a doe from the hand, and as a bird from the
hand of the fowler.
6:6. Go to the ant, O sluggard, and consider her ways, and learn
6:7. Which, although she hath no guide, nor master, nor captain,
6:8. Provideth her meat for herself in the summer, and gathereth her
food in the harvest.
6:9. How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard?  when wilt thou arise out of
6:10. Thou wilt sleep a little, thou wilt slumber a little, thou wilt
fold thy hands a little to sleep:
6:11. And want shall come upon thee, as a traveller, and poverty as a
man armed.  But if thou be diligent, thy harvest shall come as a
fountain, and want shall flee far from thee.
6:12. A man that is an apostate, an unprofitable man, walketh with a
perverse mouth,
6:13. He winketh with the eyes, presseth with the foot, speaketh with
6:14. With a wicked heart he deviseth evil, and at all times he soweth
6:15. To such a one his destruction shall presently come, and he shall
suddenly be destroyed, and shall no longer have any remedy.
6:16. Six things there are, which the Lord hateth, and the seventh his
soul detesteth:
6:17. Haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood,
6:18. A heart that deviseth wicked plots, feet that are swift to run
into mischief,
6:19. A deceitful witness that uttereth lies, and him that soweth
discord among brethren.
6:20. My son, keep the commandments of thy father, and forsake not the
law of thy mother.
6:21. Bind them in thy heart continually, and put them about thy neck.
6:22. When thou walkest, let them go with thee:  when thou sleepest, let
them keep thee, and when thou awakest, talk with them.
6:23. Because the commandment is a lamp, and the law a light, and
reproofs of instruction are the way of life:
6:24. That they may keep thee from the evil woman, and from the
flattering tongue of the stranger.
6:25. Let not thy heart covet her beauty, be not caught with her winks:
6:26. For the price of a harlot is scarce one loaf:  but the woman
catcheth the precious soul of a man.
6:27. Can a man hide fire in his bosom, and his garments not burn?
6:28. Or can he walk upon hot coals, and his feet not be burnt?
6:29. So he that goeth in to his neighbour's wife, shall not be clean
when he shall touch her.
6:30. The fault is not so great when a man hath stolen:  for he stealeth
to fill his hungry soul:
The fault is not so great, etc. . .The sin of theft is not so great, as
to be compared with adultery:  especially when a person pressed with
hunger (which is the case here spoken of) steals to satisfy nature.
Moreover the damage done by theft may much more easily be repaired,
than the wrong done by adultery.  But this does not hinder, but that
theft also is a mortal sin, forbidden by one of the ten commandments.
6:31. And if he be taken, he shall restore sevenfold, and shall give up
all the substance of his house.
6:32. But he that is an adulterer, for the folly of his heart shall
destroy his own soul:
6:33. He gathereth to himself shame and dishonour, and his reproach
shall not be blotted out:
6:34. Because the jealousy and rage of the husband will not spare in
the day of revenge,
6:35. Nor will he yield to any man's prayers, nor will he accept for
satisfaction ever so many gifts.
Proverbs Chapter 7
The love of wisdom is the best preservative from being led astray by
7:1. My son, keep my words, and lay up my precepts with thee.  Son,
7:2. Keep my commandments, and thou shalt live:  and my law as the apple
7:3. Bind it upon thy fingers, write it upon the tables of thy heart.
7:4. Say to wisdom:  Thou art my sister:  and call prudence thy friend,
7:5. That she may keep thee from the woman that is not thine, and from
the stranger who sweeteneth her words.
7:6. For I looked out of the window of my house through the lattice,
7:7. And I see little ones, I behold a foolish young man,
7:8. Who passeth through the street by the corner, and goeth nigh the
way of her house,
7:9. In the dark when it grows late, in the darkness and obscurity of
7:10. And behold a woman meeteth him in harlot's attire, prepared to
deceive souls:  talkative and wandering,
7:11. Not bearing to be quiet, not able to abide still at home,
7:12. Now abroad, now in the streets, now lying in wait near the
7:13. And catching the young man, she kisseth him, and with an impudent
face, flattereth, saying:
7:14. I vowed victims for prosperity, this day I have paid my vows.
7:15. Therefore I am come out to meet thee, desirous to see thee, and I
have found thee.
7:16. I have woven my bed with cords, I have covered it with painted
tapestry, brought from Egypt.
7:17. I have perfumed my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon.
7:18. Come, let us be inebriated with the breasts, and let us enjoy the
desired embraces, till the day appear.
7:19. For my husband is not at home, he is gone a very long journey.
7:20. He took with him a bag of money:  he will return home the day of
the full moon.
7:21. She entangled him with many words, and drew him away with the
flattery of her lips.
7:22. Immediately he followeth her as an ox led to be a victim, and as
a lamb playing the wanton, and not knowing that he is drawn like a fool
7:23. Till the arrow pierce his liver:  as if a bird should make haste
to the snare, and knoweth not that his life is in danger.
7:24. Now, therefore, my son, hear me, and attend to the words of my
7:25. Let not thy mind be drawn away in her ways:  neither be thou
deceived with her paths.
7:26. For she hath cast down many wounded, and the strongest have been
slain by her.
7:27. Her house is the way to hell, reaching even to the inner chambers
Proverbs Chapter 8
The preaching of wisdom.  Her excellence.
8:1. Doth not wisdom cry aloud, and prudence put forth her voice?
8:2. Standing in the top of the highest places by the way, in the midst
of the paths,
8:3. Beside the gates of the city, in the very doors she speaketh,
8:4. O ye men, to you I call, and my voice is to the sons of men.
8:5. O little ones understand subtlety, and ye unwise, take notice.
8:6. Hear, for I will speak of great things:  and my lips shall be
opened to preach right things.
8:7. My mouth shall meditate truth, and my lips shall hate wickedness.
8:8. All my words are just, there is nothing wicked, nor perverse in
8:9. They are right to them that understand, and just to them that find
8:10. Receive my instruction, and not money:  choose knowledge rather
8:11. For wisdom is better than all the most precious things:  and
whatsoever may be desired cannot be compared to it.
8:12. I, wisdom, dwell in counsel, and am present in learned thoughts.
8:13. The fear of the Lord hateth evil; I hate arrogance, and pride,
and every wicked way, and a mouth with a double tongue.
8:14. Counsel and equity is mine, prudence is mine, strength is mine.
8:15. By me kings reign, and lawgivers decree just things.
8:16. By me princes rule, and the mighty decree justice.
8:17. I love them that love me:  and they that in the morning early
watch for me, shall find me.
8:18. With me are riches and glory, glorious riches and justice.
8:19. For my fruit is better than gold and the precious stone, and my
blossoms than choice silver.
8:20. I walk in the way of justice, in the midst of the paths of
8:21. That I may enrich them that love me, and may fill their
8:22. The Lord possessed me in the beginning of his ways, before he
made any thing from the beginning.
8:23. I was set up from eternity, and of old, before the earth was
8:24. The depths were not as yet, and I was already conceived, neither
had the fountains of waters as yet sprung out.
8:25. The mountains, with their huge bulk, had not as yet been
established:  before the hills, I was brought forth:
8:26. He had not yet made the earth, nor the rivers, nor the poles of
8:27. When he prepared the heavens, I was present:  when with a certain
law, and compass, he enclosed the depths:
8:28. When he established the sky above, and poised the fountains of
8:29. When he compassed the sea with its bounds, and set a law to the
waters that they should not pass their limits:  when he balanced the
foundations of the earth;
8:30. I was with him forming all things:  and was delighted every day,
playing before him at all times;
8:31. Playing in the world:  and my delights were to be with the
children of men.
8:32. Now, therefore, ye children, hear me:  blessed are they that keep
8:33. Hear instruction, and be wise, and refuse it not.
8:34. Blessed is the man that heareth me, and that watcheth daily at my
gates, and waiteth at the posts of my doors.
8:35. He that shall find me, shall find life, and shall have salvation
from the Lord.
8:36. But he that shall sin against me shall hurt his own soul.  All
that hate me love death.
Proverbs Chapter 9
Wisdom invites all to her feast.  Folly calls another way.
9:1. Wisdom hath built herself a house, she hath hewn her out seven
9:2. She hath slain her victims, mingled her wine, and set forth her
9:3. She hath sent her maids to invite to the tower, and to the walls
of the city:
9:4. Whosoever is a little one, let him come to me.  And to the unwise
9:5. Come, eat my bread, and drink the wine which I have mingled for
9:6. Forsake childishness, and live, and walk by the ways of prudence.
9:7. He that teacheth a scorner, doth an injury to himself; and he that
rebuketh a wicked man, getteth himself a blot.
9:8. Rebuke not a scorner, lest he hate thee.  Rebuke a wise man, and he
will love thee.
9:9. Give an occasion to a wise man, and wisdom shall be added to him.
Teach a just man, and he shall make haste to receive it.
9:10. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom:  and the
knowledge of the holy is prudence.
9:11. For by me shall thy days be multiplied, and years of life shall
be added to thee.
9:12. If thou be wise, thou shalt be so to thyself:  and if a scorner,
thou alone shalt bear the evil.
9:13. A foolish woman and clamorous, and full of allurements, and
knowing nothing at all,
9:14. Sat at the door of her house, upon a seat, in a high place of the
9:15. To call them that pass by the way, and go on their journey:
9:16. He that is a little one, let him turn to me.  And to the fool she
9:17. Stolen waters are sweeter, and hidden bread is more pleasant.
9:18. And he did not know that giants are there, and that her guests
are in the depths of hell.
Proverbs Chapter 10
In the twenty following chapters are contained many wise sayings and
axioms, relating to wisdom and folly, virtue and vice.
10:1. A wise son maketh the father glad:  but a foolish son is the
sorrow of his mother.
10:2. Treasures of wickedness shall profit nothing:  but justice shall
deliver from death.
10:3. The Lord will not afflict the soul of the just with famine, and
he will disappoint the deceitful practices of the wicked.
10:4. The slothful hand hath wrought poverty:  but the hand of the
industrious getteth riches.  He that trusteth to lies feedeth the winds:
and the same runneth after birds, that fly away.
10:5. He that gathereth in the harvest, is a wise son:  but he that
snorteth in the summer, is the son of confusion.
10:6. The blessing of the Lord is upon the head of the just:  but
iniquity covereth the mouth of the wicked.
10:7. The memory of the just is with praises:  and the name of the
wicked shall rot.
10:8. The wise of heart receiveth precepts:  a fool is beaten with lips.
10:9. He that walketh sincerely, walketh confidently:  but he that
perverteth his ways, shall be manifest.
10:10. He that winketh with the eye, shall cause sorrow:  and the
foolish in lips shall be beaten.
10:11. The mouth of the just is a vein of life:  and the mouth of the
wicked covereth iniquity.
10:12. Hatred stirreth up strifes:  and charity covereth all sins.
10:13. In the lips of the wise is wisdom found:  and a rod on the back
of him that wanteth sense.
10:14. Wise men lay up knowledge:  but the mouth of the fool is next to
10:15. The substance of a rich man is the city of his strength:  the
fear of the poor is their poverty.
10:16. The work of the just is unto life:  but the fruit of the wicked
10:17. The way of life, to him that observeth correction:  but he that
forsaketh reproofs, goeth astray.
10:18. Lying lips hide hatred:  he that uttereth reproach, is foolish.
10:19. In the multitude of words there shall not want sin:  but he that
refraineth his lips, is most wise.
10:20. The tongue of the just is as choice silver:  but the heart of the
wicked is nothing worth.
10:21. The lips of the just teach many:  but they that are ignorant,
shall die in the want of understanding.
10:22. The blessing of the Lord maketh men rich:  neither shall
affliction be joined to them.
10:23. A fool worketh mischief as it were for sport:  but wisdom is
prudence to a man.
10:24. That which the wicked feareth, shall come upon him:  to the just
their desire shall be given.
10:25. As a tempest that passeth, so the wicked shall be no more:  but
the just is as an everlasting foundation.
10:26. As vinegar to the teeth, and smoke to the eyes, so is the
sluggard to them that sent him.
10:27. The fear of the Lord shall prolong days:  and the years of the
wicked shall be shortened.
10:28. The expectation of the just is joy:  but the hope of the wicked
shall perish.
10:29. The strength of the upright is the way of the Lord:  and fear to
them that work evil.
10:30. The just shall never be moved:  but the wicked shall not dwell on
10:31. The mouth of the just shall bring forth wisdom:  the tongue of
the perverse shall perish.
10:32. The lips of the just consider what is acceptable:  and the mouth
of the wicked uttereth perverse things.
Proverbs Chapter 11
11:1. A deceitful balance is an abomination before the Lord:  and a just
weight is his will.
11:2. Where pride is, there also shall be reproach:  but where humility
is, there also is wisdom.
11:3. The simplicity of the just shall guide them:  and the
deceitfulness of the wicked shall destroy them.
11:4. Riches shall not profit in the day of revenge:  but justice shall
deliver from death.
11:5. The justice of the upright shall make his way prosperous:  and the
wicked man shall fall by his own wickedness.
11:6. The justice of the righteous shall deliver them:  and the unjust
shall be caught in their own snares.
11:7. When the wicked man is dead, there shall be no hope any more:  and
the expectation of the solicitous shall perish.
11:8. The just is delivered out of distress:  and the wicked shall be
given up for him.
11:9. The dissembler with his mouth deceiveth his friend:  but the just
shall be delivered by knowledge.
11:10. When it goeth well with the just, the city shall rejoice:  and
when the wicked perish, there shall be praise.
11:11. By the blessing of the just the city shall be exalted:  and by
the mouth of the wicked it shall be overthrown.
11:12. He that despiseth his friend, is mean of heart:  but the wise man
will hold his peace.
11:13. He that walketh deceitfully, revealeth secrets:  but he that is
faithful, concealeth the thing committed to him by his friend.
11:14. Where there is no governor, the people shall fall:  but there is
safety where there is much counsel.
11:15. He shall be afflicted with evil, that is surety for a stranger:
but he that is aware of snares, shall be secure.
11:16. A gracious woman shall find glory:  and the strong shall have
11:17. A merciful man doth good to his own soul:  but he that is cruel
casteth off even his own kindred.
11:18. The wicked maketh an unsteady work:  but to him that soweth
justice, there is a faithful reward.
11:19. Clemency prepareth life:  and the pursuing of evil things, death.
11:20. A perverse heart is abominable to the Lord:  and his will is in
them that walk sincerely.
11:21. Hand in hand the evil man shall not be innocent:  but the seed of
the just shall be saved.
11:22. A golden ring in a swine's snout, a woman fair and foolish.
11:23. The desire of the just is all good, the expectation of the
wicked is indignation.
11:24. Some distribute their own goods, and grow richer:  others take
away what is not their own, and are always in want.
11:25. The soul that blesseth, shall be made fat:  and he that
inebriateth, shall be inebriated also himself.
11:26. He that hideth up corn, shall be cursed among the people:  but a
blessing upon the head of them that sell.
11:27. Well doth he rise early who seeketh good things; but he that
seeketh after evil things, shall be oppressed by them.
11:28. He that trusteth in his riches shall fall:  but the just shall
spring up as a green leaf.
11:29. He that troubleth his own house, shall inherit the winds:  and
the fool shall serve the wise.
11:30. The fruit of the just man is a tree of life:  and he that gaineth
souls is wise.
11:31. If the just man receive in the earth, how much more the wicked
and the sinner.
Proverbs Chapter 12
12:1. He that loveth correction, loveth knowledge:  but he that hateth
reproof, is foolish.
12:2. He that is good, shall draw grace from the Lord:  but he that
trusteth in his own devices, doth wickedly.
12:3. Man shall not be strengthened by wickedness:  and the root of the
just shall not be moved.
12:4. A diligent woman is a crown to her husband:  and she that doth
things worthy of confusion, is as rottenness in his bones.
12:5. The thoughts of the just are judgments:  and the counsels of the
wicked are deceitful.
12:6. The words of the wicked lie in wait for blood:  the mouth of the
just shall deliver them.
12:7. Turn the wicked, and they shall not be:  but the house of the just
shall stand firm.
12:8. A man shall be known by his learning:  but he that is vain and
foolish, shall be exposed to contempt.
12:9. Better is the poor man that provideth for himself, than he that
is glorious and wanteth bread.
12:10. The just regardeth the lives of his beasts:  but the bowels of
the wicked are cruel.
12:11. He that tilleth his land shall be satisfied with bread:  but he
that pursueth idleness is very foolish.
12:12. He that is delighted in passing his time over wine, leaveth a
reproach in his strong holds.
12:12. The desire of the wicked is the fortification of evil men:  but
the root of the just shall prosper.
12:13. For the sins of the lips ruin draweth nigh to the evil man:  but
the just shall escape out of distress.
12:14. By the fruit of his own mouth shall a man be filled with good
things, and according to the works of his hands it shall be repaid him.
12:15. The way of a fool is right in his own eyes:  but he that is wise
hearkeneth unto counsels.
12:16. A fool immediately sheweth his anger:  but he that dissembleth
injuries is wise.
12:17. He that speaketh that which he knoweth, sheweth forth justice:
but he that lieth, is a deceitful witness.
12:18. There is that promiseth, and is pricked as it were with a sword
of conscience:  but the tongue of the wise is health.
12:19. The lip of truth shall be steadfast for ever:  but he that is a
hasty witness, frameth a lying tongue.
12:20. Deceit is in the heart of them that think evil things:  but joy
followeth them that take counsels of peace.
12:21. Whatsoever shall befall the just man, shall not make him sad:
but the wicked shall be filled with mischief.
12:22. Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord:  but they that deal
faithfully, please him.
12:23. A cautious man concealeth knowledge:  and the heart of fools
publisheth folly.
12:24. The hand of the valiant shall bear rule:  but that which is
slothful shall be under tribute.
12:25. Grief in the heart of a man shall bring him low, but with a good
word he shall be made glad.
12:26. He that neglecteth a loss for the sake of a friend, is just:  but
the way of the wicked shall deceive them.
12:27. The deceitful man shall not find gain:  but the substance of a
just man shall be precious gold.
12:28. In the path of justice is life:  but the bye-way leadeth to
Proverbs Chapter 13
13:1. A wise son heareth the doctrine of his father:  but he that is a
scorner, heareth not when he is reproved.
13:2. Of the fruit of his own month shall a man be filled with good
things:  but the soul of transgressors is wicked.
13:3. He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his soul:  but he that hath no
guard on his speech shall meet with evils.
13:4. The sluggard willeth, and willeth not:  but the soul of them that
work, shall be made fat.
13:5. The just shall hate a lying word:  but the wicked confoundeth, and
shall be confounded.
13:6. Justice keepeth the way of the innocent:  but wickedness
overthroweth the sinner.
13:7. One is as it were rich, when he hath nothing and another is as it
were poor, when he hath great riches.
13:8. The ransom of a man's life are his riches:  but he that is poor,
beareth not reprehension.
13:9. The light of the just giveth joy:  but the lamp of the wicked
shall be put out.
13:10. Among the proud there are always contentions:  but they that do
all things with counsel, are ruled by wisdom.
13:11. Substance got in haste shall be diminished:  but that which by
little and little is gathered with the hand, shall increase.
13:12. Hope that is deferred afflicteth the soul:  desire when it
cometh, is a tree of life.
13:13. Whosoever speaketh ill of any thing, bindeth himself for the
time to come:  but he that feareth the commandment, shall dwell in
peace.  Deceitful souls go astray in sins:  the just are merciful, and
13:14. The law of the wise is a fountain of life, that he may decline
from the ruin of death.
13:15. Good instruction shall give grace:  in the way of scorners is a
13:16. The prudent man doth all things with counsel:  but he that is a
fool, layeth open his folly.
13:17. The messenger of the wicked shall fall into mischief:  but a
faithful ambassador is health.
13:18. Poverty and shame to him that refuseth instruction:  but he that
yieldeth to reproof shall be glorified.
13:19. The desire that is accomplished, delighteth the soul:  fools hate
them that flee from evil things.
13:20. He that walketh with the wise, shall be wise:  a friend of fools
shall become like to them.
13:21. Evil pursueth sinners:  and to the just good shall be repaid.
13:22. The good man leaveth heirs, sons, and grandsons:  and the
substance of the sinner is kept for the just.
13:23. Much food is in the tillage of fathers:  but for others it is
gathered without judgment.
13:24. He that spareth the rod, hateth his son:  but he that loveth him,
correcteth him betimes.
13:25. The just eateth and filleth his soul:  but the belly of the
wicked is never to be filled.
Proverbs Chapter 14
14:1. A wise woman buildeth her house:  but the foolish will pull down
with her hands that also which is built.
14:2. He that walketh in the right way, and feareth God, is despised by
him that goeth by an infamous way.
14:3. In the mouth of a fool is the rod of pride:  but the lips of the
wise preserve them.
14:4. Where there are no oxen, the crib is empty:  but where there is
much corn, there the strength of the ox is manifest.
14:5. A faithful witness will not lie:  but a deceitful witness uttereth
14:6. A scorner seeketh wisdom, and findeth it not:  the learning of the
wise is easy.
14:7. Go against a foolish man, and he knoweth not the lips of
14:8. The wisdom of a discreet man is to understand his way:  and the
imprudence of fools erreth.
14:9. A fool will laugh at sin, but among the just grace shall abide.
14:10. The heart that knoweth the bitterness of his own soul, in his
joy the stranger shall not intermeddle.
14:11. The house of the wicked shall be destroyed:  but the tabernacles
of the just shall flourish.
14:12. There is a way which seemeth just to a man:  but the ends thereof
lead to death.
14:13. Laughter shall be mingled with sorrow, and mourning taketh hold
of the ends of joy.
14:14. A fool shall be filled with his own ways, and the good man shall
be above him.
14:15. The innocent believeth every word:  the discreet man considereth
his steps.  No good shall come to the deceitful son:  but the wise
servant shall prosper in his dealings, and his way shall be made
14:16. A wise man feareth, and declineth from evil:  the fool leapeth
over, and is confident.
14:17. The impatient man shall work folly:  and the crafty man is
14:18. The childish shall possess folly, and the prudent shall look for
14:19. The evil shall fall down before the good:  and the wicked before
the gates of the just.
14:20. The poor man shall be hateful even to his own neighbour:  but the
friends of the rich are many.
14:21. He that despiseth his neighbour, sinneth:  but he that sheweth
mercy to the poor, shall be blessed.  He that believeth in the Lord,
loveth mercy.
14:22. They err that work evil:  but mercy and truth prepare good
14:23. In much work there shall be abundance:  but where there are many
words, there is oftentimes want.
14:24. The crown of the wise, is their riches:  the folly of fools,
14:25. A faithful witness delivereth souls:  and the double dealer
uttereth lies.
14:26. In the fear of the Lord is confidence of strength, and there
shall be hope for his children.
14:27. The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, to decline from the
ruin of death.
14:28. In the multitude of people is the dignity of the king:  and in
the small number of the people the dishonour of the prince.
14:29. He that is patient, is governed with much wisdom:  but he that is
impatient, exalteth his folly.
14:30. Soundness of heart is the life of the flesh:  but envy is the
rottenness of the bones.
14:31. He that oppresseth the poor, upbraideth his maker:  but he that
hath pity on the poor, honoureth him.
14:32. The wicked man shall be driven out in his wickedness:  but the
just hath hope in his death.
14:33. In the heart of the prudent resteth wisdom, and it shall
instruct all the ignorant.
14:34. Justice exalteth a nation:  but sin maketh nations miserable.
14:35. A wise servant is acceptable to the king:  he that is good for
nothing shall feel his anger.
Proverbs Chapter 15
15:1. A mild answer breaketh wrath:  but a harsh word stirreth up fury.
15:2. The tongue of the wise adorneth knowledge:  but the mouth of fools
bubbleth out folly.
15:3. The eyes of the Lord in every place behold the good and the evil.
15:4. A peaceable tongue is a tree of life:  but that which is
immoderate, shall crush the spirit.
15:5. A fool laugheth at the instruction of his father:  but he that
regardeth reproofs shall become prudent.  In abundant justice there is
the greatest strength:  but the devices of the wicked shall be rooted
15:6. The house of the just is very much strength:  and in the fruits of
the wicked is trouble.
15:7. The lips of the wise shall disperse knowledge:  the heart of fools
shall be unlike.
15:8. The victims of the wicked are abominable to the Lord:  the vows of
the just are acceptable.
15:9. The way of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord:  he that
followeth justice is beloved by him.
15:10. Instruction is grievous to him that forsaketh the way of life:
he that hateth reproof shall die.
15:11. Hell and destruction are before the Lord:  how much more the
hearts of the children of men?
15:12. A corrupt man loveth not one that reproveth him:  nor will he go
to the wise.
15:13. A glad heart maketh a cheerful countenance:  but by grief of mind
the spirit is cast down.
15:14. The heart of the wise seeketh instruction:  and the mouth of
fools feedeth on foolishness.
15:15. All the days of the poor are evil:  a secure mind is like a
continual feast.
15:16. Better is a little with the fear of the Lord, than great
treasures without content.
15:17. It is better to be invited to herbs with love, than to a fatted
calf with hatred.
15:18. A passionate man stirreth up strifes:  he that is patient
appeaseth those that are stirred up.
15:19. The way of the slothful is as a hedge of thorns:  the way of the
just is without offence.
15:20. A wise son maketh a father joyful:  but the foolish man despiseth
15:21. Folly is joy to the fool:  and the wise man maketh straight his
15:22. Designs are brought to nothing where there is no counsel:  but
where there are many counsellors, they are established.
15:23. A man rejoiceth in the sentence of his mouth:  and a word in due
time is best.
15:24. The path of life is above for the wise, that he may decline from
the lowest hell.
15:25. The Lord will destroy the house of the proud:  and will
strengthen the borders of the widow.
15:26. Evil thoughts are an abomination to the Lord:  and pure words
most beautiful shall be confirmed by him.
15:27. He that is greedy of gain troubleth his own house:  but he that
hateth bribes shall live.  By mercy and faith sins are purged away:  and
by the fear of the Lord every one declineth from evil.
15:28. The mind of the just studieth obedience:  the mouth of the wicked
overfloweth with evils.
15:29. The Lord is far from the wicked:  and he will hear the prayers of
15:30. The light of the eyes rejoiceth the soul:  a good name maketh the
15:31. The ear that heareth the reproofs of life, shall abide in the
midst of the wise.
15:32. He that rejecteth instruction, despiseth his own soul:  but he
that yieldeth to reproof, possesseth understanding.
15:33. The fear of the Lord is the lesson of wisdom:  and humility goeth
before glory.
Proverbs Chapter 16
16:1. It is the part of man to prepare the soul:  and of the Lord to
govern the tongue.
It is the part of man, etc. . .That is, a man should prepare in his
heart and soul what he is to say:  but after all, it must be the Lord
that must govern his tongue, to speak to the purpose.  Not that we can
think any thing of good without God's grace; but that after we have
(with God's grace) thought and prepared within our souls what we would
speak, if God does not govern our tongue, we shall not succeed in what
16:2. All the ways of a man are open to his eyes:  the Lord is the
weigher of spirits.
16:3. Lay open thy works to the Lord:  and thy thoughts shall be
16:4. The Lord hath made all things for himself:  the wicked also for
the evil day.
16:5. Every proud man is an abomination to the Lord:  though hand should
be joined to hand, he is not innocent.  The beginning of a good way is
to do justice:  and this is more acceptable with God, than to offer
16:6. By mercy and truth iniquity is redeemed; and by the fear of the
Lord men depart from evil.
16:7. When the ways of man shall please the Lord, he will convert even
his enemies to peace.
16:8. Better is a little with justice, than great revenues with
16:9. The heart of man disposeth his way:  but the Lord must direct his
16:10. Divination is in the lips of the king, his mouth shall not err
in judgment.
16:11. Weight and balance are judgments of the Lord:  and his work all
the weights of the bag.
16:12. They that act wickedly are abominable to the king:  for the
throne is established by justice.
16:13. Just lips are the delight of kings:  he that speaketh right
things shall be loved.
16:14. The wrath of a king is as messengers of death:  and the wise man
will pacify it.
16:15. In the cheerfulness of the king's countenance is life:  and his
clemency is like the latter rain.
16:16. Get wisdom, because it is better than gold:  and purchase
prudence, for it is more precious than silver.
16:17. The path of the just departeth from evils:  he that keepeth his
soul keepeth his way.
16:18. Pride goeth before destruction:  and the spirit is lifted up
before a fall.
16:19. It is better to be humbled with the meek, than to divide spoils
with the proud.
16:20. The learned in word shall find good things:  and he that trusteth
in the Lord is blessed.
16:21. The wise in heart shall be called prudent:  and he that is sweet
in words, shall attain to greater things.
16:22. Knowledge is a fountain of life to him that possesseth it:  the
instruction of fools is foolishness.
16:23. The heart of the wise shall instruct his mouth:  and shall add
grace to his lips.
16:24. Well ordered words are as a honeycomb:  sweet to the soul, and
health to the bones.
16:25. There is a way that seemeth to a man right:  and the ends thereof
lead to death.
16:26. The soul of him that laboureth, laboureth for himself, because
his mouth hath obliged him to it.
16:27. The wicked man diggeth evil, and in his lips is a burning fire.
16:28. A perverse man stirreth up quarrels:  and one full of words
separateth princes.
16:29. An unjust man allureth his friend:  and leadeth him into a way
that is not good.
16:30. He that with fixed eyes deviseth wicked things, biting his lips,
bringeth evil to pass.
16:31. Old age is a crown of dignity, when it is found in the ways of
16:32. The patient man is better than the valiant:  and he that ruleth
his spirit, than he that taketh cities.
16:33. Lots are cast into the lap, but they are disposed of by the
Proverbs Chapter 17
17:1. Better is a dry morsel with joy, than a house full of victims
with strife.
17:2. A wise servant shall rule over foolish sons, and shall divide the
inheritance among the brethren.
17:3. As silver is tried by fire, and gold in the furnace:  so the Lord
trieth the hearts.
17:4. The evil man obeyeth an unjust tongue:  and the deceitful
hearkeneth to lying lips.
17:5. He that despiseth the poor, reproacheth his maker:  and he that
rejoiceth at another man's ruin, shall not be unpunished.
17:6. Children's children are the crown of old men:  and the glory of
children are their fathers.
17:7. Eloquent words do not become a fool, nor lying lips a prince.
17:8. The expectation of him that expecteth is a most acceptable jewel:
whithersoever he turneth himself, he understandeth wisely.
17:9. He that concealeth a transgression, seeketh friendships:  he that
repeateth it again, separateth friends.
17:10. A reproof availeth more with a wise man, than a hundred stripes
with a fool.
17:11. An evil man always seeketh quarrels:  but a cruel angel shall be
sent against him.
17:12. It is better to meet a bear robbed of her whelps, than a fool
trusting in his own folly.
17:13. He that rendereth evil for good, evil shall not depart from his
17:14. The beginning of quarrels is as when one letteth out water:  and
before he suffereth reproach, he forsaketh judgment.
17:15. He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just,
both are abominable before God.
17:16. What doth it avail a fool to have riches, seeing he cannot buy
wisdom?  He that maketh his house high, seeketh a downfall:  and he that
refuseth to learn, shall fall into evils.
17:17. He that is a friend loveth at all times:  and a brother is proved
in distress.
17:18. A foolish man will clap hands, when he is surety for his friend.
17:19. He that studieth discords, loveth quarrels:  and he that exalteth
his door, seeketh ruin.
17:20. He that is of a perverse heart, shall not find good:  and he that
perverteth his tongue, shall fall into evil.
17:21. A fool is born to his own disgrace:  and even his father shall
not rejoice in a fool.
17:22. A joyful mind maketh age flourishing:  a sorrowful spirit drieth
up the bones.
17:23. The wicked man taketh gifts out of the bosom, that he may
pervert the paths of judgment.
17:24. Wisdom shineth in the face of the wise:  the eyes of fools are in
the ends of the earth.
17:25. A foolish son is the anger of the father:  and the sorrow of the
mother that bore him.
17:26. It is no good thing to do hurt to the just:  nor to strike the
prince, who judgeth right.
17:27. He that setteth bounds to his words, is knowing and wise:  and
the man of understanding is of a precious spirit.
17:28. Even a fool, if he will hold his peace, shall be counted wise:
and if he close his lips, a man of understanding.
Proverbs Chapter 18
18:1. He that hath a mind to depart from a friend, seeketh occasions:
he shall ever be subject to reproach.
18:2. A fool receiveth not the words of prudence:  unless thou say those
things which are in his heart.
18:3. The wicked man, when he is come into the depths of sins,
contemneth:  but ignominy and reproach follow him.
18:4. Words from the mouth of a man are as deep water:  and the fountain
of wisdom is an overflowing stream.
18:5. It is not good to accept the person of the wicked, to decline
from the truth of judgment.
18:6. The lips of a fool intermeddle with strife:  and his mouth
provoketh quarrels.
18:7. The mouth of a fool is his destruction:  and his lips are the ruin
of his soul.
18:8. The words of the double tongued are as if they were harmless:  and
they reach even to the inner parts of the bowels.  Fear casteth down the
slothful:  and the souls of the effeminate shall be hungry.
18:9. He that is loose and slack in his work, is the brother of him
that wasteth his own works.
18:10. The name of the Lord is a strong tower:  the just runneth to it,
and shall be exalted.
18:11. The substance of the rich man is the city of his strength, and
as a strong wall compassing him about.
18:12. Before destruction, the heart of a man is exalted:  and before he
be glorified, it is humbled.
18:13. He that answereth before he heareth, sheweth himself to be a
fool, and worthy of confusion.
18:14. The spirit of a man upholdeth his infirmity:  but a spirit that
is easily angered, who can bear?
18:15. A wise heart shall acquire knowledge:  and the ear of the wise
seeketh instruction.
18:16. A man's gift enlargeth his way, and maketh him room before
18:17. The just is first accuser of himself:  his friend cometh, and
shall search him.
18:18. The lot suppresseth contentions, and determineth even between
18:19. A brother that is helped by his brother, is like a strong city:
and judgments are like the bars of cities.
18:20. Of the fruit of a man's mouth shall his belly be satisfied:  and
the offspring of his lips shall fill him.
18:21. Death and life are in the power of the tongue:  they that love
it, shall eat the fruits thereof.
18:22. He that hath found a good wife, hath found a good thing, and
shall receive a pleasure from the Lord.  He that driveth away a good
wife, driveth away a good thing:  but he that keepeth an adulteress, is
foolish and wicked.
18:23. The poor will speak with supplications, and the rich will speak
18:24. A man amiable in society, shall be more friendly than a brother.
Proverbs Chapter 19
19:1. Better is the poor man, that walketh in his simplicity, than a
rich man that is perverse in his lips and unwise.
19:2. Where there is no knowledge of the soul, there is no good:  and he
that is hasty with his feet shall stumble.
19:3. The folly of a man supplanteth his steps:  and he fretteth in his
mind against God.
19:4. Riches make many friends:  but from the poor man, even they whom
he had, depart.
19:5. A false witness shall not be unpunished:  and he that speaketh
lies, shall not escape.
19:6. Many honour the person of him that is mighty, and are friends of
him that giveth gifts.
19:7. The brethren of the poor man hate him:  moreover also his friends
have departed far from him.  He that followeth after words only, shall
have nothing.
19:8. But he that possesseth a mind, loveth his own soul, and he that
keepeth prudence, shall find good things.
19:9. A false witness shall not be unpunished:  and he that speaketh
lies, shall perish.
19:10. Delicacies are not seemly for a fool:  nor for a servant to have
rule over princes.
19:11. The learning of a man is known by patience:  and his glory is to
pass over wrongs.
19:12. As the roaring of a lion, so also is the anger of a king:  and
his cheerfulness as the dew upon the grass.
19:13. A foolish son is the grief of his father:  and a wrangling wife
is like a roof continually dropping through.
19:14. House and riches are given by parents:  but a prudent wife is
properly from the Lord.
19:15. Slothfulness casteth into a deep sleep, and an idle soul shall
suffer hunger.
19:16. He that keepeth the commandment, keepeth his own soul:  but he
that neglecteth his own way, shall die.
19:17. He that hath mercy on the poor, lendeth to the Lord:  and he will
19:18. Chastise thy son, despair not:  but to the killing of him set not
19:19. He that is impatient, shall suffer damage:  and when he shall
take away, he shall add another thing.
19:20. Hear counsel, and receive instruction, that thou mayst be wise
in thy latter end.
19:21. There are many thoughts in the heart of a man:  but the will of
the Lord shall stand firm.
19:22. A needy man is merciful:  and better is the poor than the lying
19:23. The fear of the Lord is unto life:  and he shall abide in the
fulness without being visited with evil.
19:24. The slothful hideth his hand under his armpit, and will not so
much as bring it to his mouth.
19:25. The wicked man being scourged, the fool shall be wiser:  but if
thou rebuke a wise man, he will understand discipline.
19:26. He that afflicteth his father, and chaseth away his mother, is
infamous and unhappy.
19:27. Cease not, O my son, to hear instruction, and be not ignorant of
the words of knowledge.
19:28. An unjust witness scorneth judgment:  and the mouth of the wicked
devoureth iniquity.
19:29. Judgments are prepared for scorners:  and striking hammers for
the bodies of fools.
Proverbs Chapter 20
20:1. Wine is a luxurious thing, and drunkenness riotous:  whosoever is
delighted therewith, shall not be wise.
20:2. As the roaring of a lion, so also is the dread of a king:  he that
provoketh him, sinneth against his own soul.
20:3. It is an honour for a man to separate himself from quarrels:  but
all fools are meddling with reproaches.
20:4. Because of the cold the sluggard would not plough:  he shall beg
therefore in the summer, and it shall not be given him.
20:5. Counsel in the heart of a man is like deep water:  but a wise man
will draw it out.
20:6. Many men are called merciful:  but who shall find a faithful man?
20:7. The just that walketh in his simplicity, shall leave behind him
blessed children.
20:8. The king, that sitteth on the throne of judgment, scattereth away
all evil with his look.
20:9. Who can say:  My heart is clean, I am pure from sin?
20:10. Diverse weights and diverse measures, both are abominable before
20:11. By his inclinations a child is known, if his works be clean and
20:12. The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made them
20:13. Love not sleep, lest poverty oppress thee:  open thy eyes, and be
filled with bread.
20:14. It is naught, it is naught, saith every buyer:  and when he is
gone away, then he will boast.
20:15. There is gold and a multitude of jewels:  but the lips of
knowledge are a precious vessel.
20:16. Take away the garment of him that is surety for a stranger, and
take a pledge from him for strangers.
20:17. The bread of lying is sweet to a man:  but afterwards his mouth
shall be filled with gravel.
20:18. Designs are strengthened by counsels:  and wars are to be managed
by governments.
20:19. Meddle not with him that revealeth secrets, and walketh
deceitfully, and openeth wide his lips.
20:20. He that curseth his father, and mother, his lamp shall be put
out in the midst of darkness.
20:21. The inheritance gotten hastily in the beginning, in the end
shall be without a blessing.
20:22. Say not:  I will return evil:  wait for the Lord, and he will
deliver thee.
20:23. Diverse weights are an abomination before the Lord:  a deceitful
balance is not good.
20:24. The steps of men are guided by the Lord:  but who is the man that
can understand his own way?
20:25. It is ruin to a man to devour holy ones, and after vows to
20:26. A wise king scattereth the wicked, and bringeth over them the
20:27. The spirit of a man is the lamp of the Lord, which searcheth all
the hidden things of the bowels.
20:28. Mercy and truth preserve the king, and his throne is
strengthened by clemency.
20:29. The joy of young men is their strength:  and the dignity of old
men, their grey hairs.
20:30. The blueness of a wound shall wipe away evils:  and stripes in
the more inward parts of the belly.
Proverbs Chapter 21
21:1. As the divisions of waters, so the heart of the king is in the
hand of the Lord:  whithersoever he will, he shall turn it.
21:2. Every way of a man seemeth right to himself:  but the Lord
weigheth the hearts.
21:3. To do mercy and judgment, pleaseth the Lord more than victims.
21:4. Haughtiness of the eyes is the enlarging of the heart:  the lamp
of the wicked is sin.
21:5. The thoughts of the industrious always bring forth abundance:  but
every sluggard is always in want.
21:6. He that gathereth treasures by a lying tongue, is vain and
foolish, and shall stumble upon the snares of death.
21:7. The robberies of the wicked shall be their downfall, because they
would not do judgment.
21:8. The perverse way of a man is strange:  but as for him that is
pure, his work is right.
21:9. It is better to sit in a corner of the housetop, than with a
brawling woman, and in a common house.
21:10. The soul of the wicked desireth evil, he will not have pity on
his neighbour.
21:11. When a pestilent man is punished, the little one will be wiser:
and if he follow the wise, he will receive knowledge.
21:12. The just considereth seriously the house of the wicked, that he
may withdraw the wicked from evil.
21:13. He that stoppeth his ear against the cry of the poor, shall also
cry himself, and shall not be heard.
21:14. A secret present quencheth anger:  and a gift in the bosom, the
greatest wrath.
21:15. It is joy to the just to do judgment:  and dread to them that
work iniquity.
21:16. A man that shall wander out of the way of doctrine, shall abide
in the company of the giants.
21:17. He that loveth good cheer, shall be in want:  he that loveth
wine, and fat things, shall not be rich.
21:18. The wicked is delivered up for the just:  and the unjust for the
21:19. It is better to dwell in a wilderness, than with a quarrelsome
and passionate woman.
21:20. There is a treasure to be desired, and oil in the dwelling of
the just:  and the foolish man shall spend it.
21:21. He that followeth justice and mercy, shall find life, justice,
21:22. The wise man hath scaled the city of the strong, and hath cast
down the strength of the confidence thereof.
21:23. He that keepeth his mouth and his tongue, keepeth his soul from
21:24. The proud and the arrogant is called ignorant, who in anger
worketh pride.
21:25. Desires kill the slothful:  for his hands have refused to work at
21:26. He longeth and desireth all the day:  but he that is just, will
give, and will not cease.
21:27. The sacrifices of the wicked are abominable, because they are
offered of wickedness.
21:28. A lying witness shall perish:  an obedient man shall speak of
21:29. The wicked man impudently hardeneth his face:  but he that is
righteous, correcteth his way.
21:30. There is no wisdom, there is no prudence, there is no counsel
against the Lord.
21:31. The horse is prepared for the day of battle:  but the Lord giveth
Proverbs Chapter 22
22:1. A good name is better than great riches:  and good favour is above
silver and gold.
22:2. The rich and poor have met one another:  the Lord is the maker of
22:3. The prudent man saw the evil, and hid himself:  the simple passed
on, and suffered loss.
22:4. The fruit of humility is the fear of the Lord, riches and glory
22:5. Arms and swords are in the way of the perverse:  but he that
keepeth his own soul, departeth far from them.
22:6. It is a proverb:  A young man according to his way, even when he
is old, he will not depart from it.
22:7. The rich ruleth over the poor:  and the borrower is servant to him
that lendeth.
22:8. He that soweth iniquity, shall reap evils, and with the rod of
his anger he shall be consumed.
22:9. He that is inclined to mercy, shall be blessed:  for of his bread
he hath given to the poor.  He that maketh presents, shall purchase
victory and honour:  but he carrieth away the souls of the receivers.
22:10. Cast out the scoffer, and contention shall go out with him, and
quarrels and reproaches shall cease.
22:11. He that loveth cleanness of heart, for the grace of his lips
shall have the king for his friend.
22:12. The eyes of the Lord preserve knowledge:  and the words of the
unjust are overthrown.
22:13. The slothful man saith:  There is a lion without, I shall be
slain in the midst of the streets.
22:14. The mouth of a strange woman is a deep pit:  he whom the Lord is
angry with, shall fall into it.
22:15. Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, and the rod of
correction shall drive it away.
22:16. He that oppresseth the poor, to increase his own riches, shall
himself give to one that is richer, and shall be in need.
22:17. Incline thy ear, and hear the words of the wise:  and apply thy
heart to my doctrine:
22:18. Which shall be beautiful for thee, if thou keep it in thy
bowels, and it shall flow in thy lips:
22:19. That thy trust may be in the Lord, wherefore I have also shewn
it to thee this day.
22:20. Behold I have described it to thee three manner of ways, in
thoughts and knowledge:
22:21. That I might shew thee the certainty, and the words of truth, to
answer out of these to them that sent thee.
22:22. Do no violence to the poor, because he is poor:  and do not
oppress the needy in the gate:
22:23. Because the Lord will judge his cause:  and will afflict them
that have afflicted his soul.
22:24. Be not a friend to an angry man, and do not walk with a furious
22:25. Lest perhaps thou learn his ways, and take scandal to thy soul.
22:26. Be not with them that fasten down their hands, and that offer
themselves sureties for debts:
22:27. For if thou have not wherewith to restore, what cause is there
that he should take the covering from thy bed?
22:28. Pass not beyond the ancient bounds which thy fathers have set.
22:29. Hast thou seen a man swift in his work?  he shall stand before
kings, and shall not be before those that are obscure.
Proverbs Chapter 23
23:1. When thou shalt sit to eat with a prince, consider diligently
what is set before thy face:
23:2. And put a knife to thy throat, if it be so that thou have thy
soul in thy own power.
23:3. Be not desirous of his meats, in which is the bread of deceit.
23:4. Labour not to be rich:  but set bounds to thy prudence.
23:5. Lift not up thy eyes to riches which thou canst not have:  because
they shall make themselves wings like those of an eagle, and shall fly
towards heaven.
23:6. Eat not with an envious man, and desire not his meats:
23:7. Because, like a soothsayer, and diviner, he thinketh that which
he knoweth not.  Eat and drink, will he say to thee:  and his mind is not
23:8. The meats which thou hadst eaten, thou shalt vomit up:  and shalt
loose thy beautiful words.
23:9. Speak not in the ears of fools:  because they will despise the
instruction of thy speech.
23:10. Touch not the bounds of little ones:  and enter not into the
field of the fatherless:
23:11. For their near kinsman is strong:  and he will judge their cause
against thee.
23:12. Let thy heart apply itself to instruction and thy ears to words
of knowledge.
23:13. Withhold not correction from a child:  for if thou strike him
with the rod, he shall not die.
23:14. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and deliver his soul from
23:15. My son, if thy mind be wise, my heart shall rejoice with thee:
23:16. And my reins shall rejoice, when thy lips shall speak what is
23:17. Let not thy heart envy sinners:  but be thou in the fear of the
Lord all the day long:
23:18. Because thou shalt have hope in the latter end, and thy
expectation shall not be taken away.
23:19. Hear thou, my son, and be wise:  and guide thy mind in the way.
23:20. Be not in the feasts of great drinkers, nor in their revellings,
who contribute flesh to eat:
23:21. Because they that give themselves to drinking, and that club
together, shall be consumed:  and drowsiness shall be clothed with rags.
23:22. Hearken to thy father, that begot thee:  and despise not thy
mother when she is old.
23:23. Buy truth, and do not sell wisdom, and instruction, and
understanding.
23:24. The father of the just rejoiceth greatly:  he that hath begotten
a wise son, shall have joy in him.
23:25. Let thy father and thy mother be joyful, and let her rejoice
that bore thee.
23:26. My son, give me thy heart:  and let thy eyes keep my ways.
23:27. For a harlot is a deep ditch:  and a strange woman is a narrow
23:28. She lieth in wait in the way as a robber, and him whom she shall
see unwary, she will kill.
23:29. Who hath woe?  whose father hath woe?  who hath contentions?  who
falls into pits?  who hath wounds without cause?  who hath redness of
23:30. Surely they that pass their time in wine, and study to drink off
23:31. Look not upon the wine when it is yellow, when the colour
thereof shineth in the glass:  it goeth in pleasantly,
23:32. But in the end, it will bite like a snake, and will spread
abroad poison like a basilisk.
23:33. Thy eyes shall behold strange women, and thy heart shall utter
perverse things.
23:34. And thou shalt be as one sleeping in the midst of the sea, and
as a pilot fast asleep when the stern is lost.
23:35. And thou shalt say:  They have beaten me, but I was not sensible
of pain:  they drew me, and I felt not:  when shall I awake and find wine
Proverbs Chapter 24
24:1. Seek not to be like evil men, neither desire to be with them:
24:2. Because their mind studieth robberies, and their lips speak
24:3. By wisdom the house shall be built, and by prudence it shall be
strengthened.
24:4. By instruction the storerooms shall be filled with all precious
and most beautiful wealth.
24:5. A wise man is strong:  and a knowing man, stout and valiant.
24:6. Because war is managed by due ordering:  and there shall be safety
where there are many counsels.
24:7. Wisdom is too high for a fool; in the gate he shall not open his
24:8. He that deviseth to do evils, shall be called a fool.
24:9. The thought of a fool is sin:  and the detractor is the
abomination of men.
24:10. If thou lose hope, being weary in the day of distress, thy
strength shall be diminished.
24:11. Deliver them that are led to death:  and those that are drawn to
death, forbear not to deliver.
24:12. If thou say:  I have not strength enough:  he that seeth into the
heart, he understandeth, and nothing deceiveth the keeper of thy soul,
and he shall render to a man according to his works.
24:13. Eat honey, my son, because it is good, and the honeycomb most
sweet to thy throat.
24:14. So also is the doctrine of wisdom to thy soul:  which when thou
hast found, thou shalt have hope in the end, and thy hope shall not
24:15. Lie not in wait, nor seek after wickedness in the house of the
just, nor spoil his rest.
24:16. For a just man shall fall seven times, and shall rise again:  but
the wicked shall fall down into evil.
24:17. When thy enemy shall fall, be not glad, and in his ruin let not
thy heart rejoice:
24:18. Lest the Lord see, and it displease him, and he turn away his
wrath from him.
24:19. Contend not with the wicked, nor seek to be like the ungodly.
24:20. For evil men have no hope of things to come, and the lamp of the
wicked shall be put out.
24:21. My son, fear the Lord, and the king:  and have nothing to do with
24:22. For their destruction shall rise suddenly:  and who knoweth the
ruin of both?
24:23. These things also to the wise:  It is not good to have respect to
persons in judgment.
24:24. They that say to the wicked man:  Thou art just:  shall be cursed
by the people, and the tribes shall abhor them.
24:25. They that rebuke him shall be praised:  and a blessing shall come
24:26. He shall kiss the lips, who answereth right words.
24:27. Prepare thy work without, and diligently till thy ground:  that
afterward thou mayst build thy house.
24:28. Be not witness without cause against thy neighbour:  and deceive
not any man with thy lips.
24:29. Say not:  I will do to him as he hath done to me:  I will render
to every one according to his work.
24:30. I passed by the field of the slothful man, and by the vineyard
of the foolish man:
24:31. And behold it was all filled with nettles, and thorns had
covered the face thereof, and the stone wall was broken down.
24:32. Which when I had seen, I laid it up in my heart, and by the
example I received instruction.
24:33. Thou wilt sleep a little, said I, thou wilt slumber a little,
thou wilt fold thy hands a little to rest.
24:34. And poverty shall come to thee as a runner, and beggary as an
Proverbs Chapter 25
25:1. These are also parables of Solomon, which the men of Ezechias,
king of Juda, copied out.
25:2. It is the glory of God to conceal the word, and the glory of
kings to search out the speech.
25:3. The heaven above and the earth beneath, and the heart of kings is
unsearchable.
25:4. Take away the rust from silver, and there shall come forth a most
pure vessel:
25:5. Take away wickedness from the face of the king, and his throne
shall be established with justice.
25:6. Appear not glorious before the king, and stand not in the place
of great men.
25:7. For it is better that it should be said to thee:  Come up hither;
than that thou shouldst be humbled before the prince.
25:8. The things which thy eyes have seen, utter not hastily in a
quarrel:  lest afterward thou mayst not be able to make amends, when
thou hast dishonoured thy friend.
25:9. Treat thy cause with thy friend, and discover not the secret to a
25:10. Lest he insult over thee, when he hath heard it, and cease not
to upbraid thee.  Grace and friendship deliver a man:  keep these for
thyself, lest thou fall under reproach.
25:11. To speak a word in due time, is like apples of gold on beds of
25:12. As an earring of gold and a bright pearl, so is he that
reproveth the wise, and the obedient ear.
25:13. As the cold of snow in the time of harvest, so is a faithful
messenger to him that sent him, for he refresheth his soul.
25:14. As clouds, and wind, when no rain followeth, so is the man that
boasteth, and doth not fulfil his promises.
25:15. By patience a prince shall be appeased, and a soft tongue shall
break hardness.
25:16. Thou hast found honey, eat what is sufficient for thee, lest
being glutted therewith thou vomit it up.
25:17. Withdraw thy foot from the house of thy neighbour, lest having
his fill he hate thee.
25:18. A man that beareth false witness against his neighbour, is like
a dart and a sword and a sharp arrow.
25:19. To trust in an unfaithful man in the time of trouble, is like a
rotten tooth, and weary foot,
25:20. And one that looseth his garment in cold weather.  As vinegar
upon nitre, so is he that singeth songs to a very evil heart.  As a moth
doth by a garment, and a worm by the wood:  so the sadness of a man
consumeth the heart.
25:21. If thy enemy be hungry, give him to eat:  if he thirst, give him
water to drink:
25:22. For thou shalt heap hot coals upon his head, and the Lord will
reward thee.
25:23. The north wind driveth away rain, as doth a sad countenance a
backbiting tongue.
25:24. It is better to sit in a corner of the housetop:  than with a
brawling woman, and in a common house.
25:25. As cold water to a thirsty soul, so are good tidings from a far
25:26. A just man falling down before the wicked, is as a fountain
troubled with the foot and a corrupted spring.
25:27. As it is not good for a man to eat much honey, so he that is a
searcher of majesty shall be overwhelmed by glory.
Majesty. . .Viz., of God.  For to search into that incomprehensible
Majesty, and to pretend to sound the depths of the wisdom of God, is
exposing our weak understanding to be blinded with an excess of light
and glory, which it cannot comprehend.
25:28. As a city that lieth open and is not compassed with walls, so is
a man that cannot refrain his own spirit in speaking.
Proverbs Chapter 26
26:1. As snow in summer, and rain in harvest, so glory is not seemly
26:2. As a bird flying to other places, and a sparrow going here or
there:  so a curse uttered without cause shall come upon a man.
As a bird, etc. . .The meaning is, that a curse uttered without cause
shall do no harm to the person that is cursed, but will return upon him
that curseth, as whithersoever a bird flies, it returns to its own
26:3. A whip for a horse, and a snaffle for an ass, and a rod for the
back of fools.
26:4. Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest thou be made like
Answer not a fool, etc. . .Viz., so as to imitate him but only so as to
reprove his folly.
26:5. Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he imagine himself to
26:6. He that sendeth words by a foolish messenger, is lame of feet and
drinketh iniquity.
26:7. As a lame man hath fair legs in vain:  so a parable is unseemly in
the mouth of fools.
26:8. As he that casteth a stone into the heap of Mercury:  so is he
that giveth honour to a fool.
26:9. As if a thorn should grow in the hand of a drunkard:  so is a
parable in the mouth of fools.
26:10. Judgment determineth causes:  and he that putteth a fool to
silence, appeaseth anger.
26:11. As a dog that returneth to his vomit, so is the fool that
repeateth his folly.
26:12. Hast thou seen a man wise in his own conceit?  there shall be
more hope of a fool than of him.
26:13. The slothful man saith:  There is a lion in the way, and a
lioness in the roads.
26:14. As the door turneth upon its hinges, so doth the slothful upon
26:15. The slothful hideth his hand under his armpit, and it grieveth
him to turn it to his mouth.
26:16. The sluggard is wiser in his own conceit, than seven men that
speak sentences.
26:17. As he that taketh a dog by the ears, so is he that passeth by in
anger, and meddleth with another man's quarrel.
26:18. As he is guilty that shooteth arrows, and lances unto death.
26:19. So is the man that hurteth his friend deceitfully:  and when he
is taken, saith:  I did it in jest.
26:20. When the wood faileth, the fire shall go out:  and when the
talebearer is taken away, contentions shall cease.
26:21. As coals are to burning coals, and wood to fire, so an angry man
stirreth up strife.
26:22. The words of a talebearer are as it were simple, but they reach
to the innermost parts of the belly.
26:23. Swelling lips joined with a corrupt heart, are like an earthern
vessel adorned with silver dross.
26:24. An enemy is known by his lips, when in his heart he entertaineth
26:25. When he shall speak low, trust him not:  because there are seven
mischiefs in his heart.
26:26. He that covereth hatred deceitfully, his malice shall be laid
open in the public assembly.
26:27. He that diggeth a pit, shall fall into it:  and he that rolleth a
stone, it shall return to him.
26:28. A deceitful tongue loveth not truth:  and a slippery mouth
worketh ruin.
Proverbs Chapter 27
27:1. Boast not for to morrow, for thou knowest not what the day to
come may bring forth.
27:2. Let another praise thee, and not thy own mouth:  a stranger, and
not thy own lips.
27:3. A stone is heavy, and sand weighty:  but the anger of a fool is
heavier than them both.
27:4. Anger hath no mercy:  nor fury, when it breaketh forth:  and who
can bear the violence of one provoked?
27:5. Open rebuke is better than hidden love.
27:6. Better are the wounds of a friend, than the deceitful kisses of
27:7. A soul that is full shall tread upon the honeycomb:  and a soul
that is hungry shall take even bitter for sweet.
27:8. As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that leaveth
27:9. Ointment and perfumes rejoice the heart:  and the good counsels of
a friend are sweet to the soul.
27:10. Thy own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not:  and go not
into thy brother's house in the day of thy affliction.  Better is a
neighbour that is near than a brother afar off.
27:11. Study wisdom, my son, and make my heart joyful, that thou mayst
give an answer to him that reproacheth.
27:12. The prudent man seeing evil hideth himself:  little ones passing
on have suffered losses.
27:13. Take away his garment that hath been surety for a stranger:  and
take from him a pledge for strangers.
27:14. He that blesseth his neighbour with a loud voice, rising in the
night, shall be like to him that curseth.
27:15. Roofs dropping through in a cold day, and a contentious woman
27:16. He that retaineth her, is as he that would hold the wind, and
shall call the oil of his right hand.
27:17. Iron sharpeneth iron, so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his
27:18. He that keepeth the fig tree, shall eat the fruit thereof:  and
he that is the keeper of his master, shall be glorified.
27:19. As the faces of them that look therein, shine in the water, so
the hearts of men are laid open to the wise.
27:20. Hell and destruction are never filled:  so the eyes of men are
never satisfied.
27:21. As silver is tried in the fining-pot, and gold in the furnace:
so a man is tried by the mouth of him that praiseth.  The heart of the
wicked seeketh after evils, but the righteous heart seeketh after
27:22. Though thou shouldst bray a fool in the mortar, as when a pestle
striketh upon sodden barley, his folly would not be taken from him.
27:23. Be diligent to know the countenance of thy cattle, and consider
thy own flocks:
27:24. For thou shalt not always have power:  but a crown shall be given
to generation and generation.
27:25. The meadows are open, and the green herbs have appeared, and the
hay is gathered out of the mountains.
27:26. Lambs are for thy clothing:  and kids for the price of the field.
27:27. Let the milk of the goats be enough for thy food, and for the
necessities of thy house, and for maintenance for thy handmaids.
Proverbs Chapter 28
28:1. The wicked man fleeth, when no man pursueth:  but the just, bold
as a lion, shall be without dread.
28:2. For the sins of the land many are the princes thereof:  and for
the wisdom of a man, and the knowledge of those things that are said,
the life of the prince shall be prolonged.
28:3. A poor man that oppresseth the poor, is like a violent shower,
which bringeth a famine.
28:4. They that forsake the law, praise the wicked man:  they that keep
it, are incensed against him.
28:5. Evil men think not on judgment:  but they that seek after the
Lord, take notice of all things.
28:6. Better is the poor man walking in his simplicity, than the rich
in crooked ways.
28:7. He that keepeth the law, is a wise son:  but he that feedeth
gluttons, shameth his father.
28:8. He that heapeth together riches by usury and loan, gathereth them
for him that will be bountiful to the poor.
28:9. He that turneth away his ears from hearing the law, his prayer
shall be an abomination.
28:10. He that deceiveth the just in a wicked way, shall fall in his
own destruction:  and the upright shall possess his goods.
28:11. The rich man seemeth to himself wise:  but the poor man that is
prudent shall search him out.
28:12. In the joy of the just there is great glory:  when the wicked
reign, men are ruined.
28:13. He that hideth his sins, shall not prosper:  but he that shall
confess, and forsake them, shall obtain mercy.
28:14. Blessed is the man that is always fearful:  but he that is
hardened in mind shall fall into evil.
28:15. As a roaring lion, and a hungry bear, so is a wicked prince over
the poor people.
28:16. A prince void of prudence shall oppress many by calumny:  but he
that hateth covetousness, shall prolong his days.
28:17. A man that doth violence to the blood of a person, if he flee
even to the pit, no man will stay him.
28:18. He that walketh uprightly, shall be saved:  he that is perverse
in his ways, shall fall at once.
28:19. He that tilleth his ground, shall be filled with bread:  but he
that followeth idleness, shall be filled with poverty.
28:20. A faithful man shall be much praised:  but he that maketh haste
to be rich, shall not be innocent.
28:21. He that hath respect to a person in judgment, doth not well:
such a man even for a morsel of bread forsaketh the truth.
28:22. A man that maketh haste to be rich, and envieth others, is
ignorant that poverty shall come upon him.
28:23. He that rebuketh a man, shall afterward find favour with him,
more than he that by a flattering tongue deceiveth him.
28:24. He that stealeth any thing from his father, or from his mother:
and saith, This is no sin, is the partner of a murderer.
28:26. He that boasteth and puffeth up himself, stirreth up quarrels:
but he that trusteth in the Lord, shall be healed.
28:26. He that trusteth in his own heart, is a fool:  but he that
walketh wisely, he shall be saved.
28:27. He that giveth to the poor shall not want:  he that despiseth his
entreaty, shall suffer indigence.
28:28. When the wicked rise up, men shall hide themselves:  when they
perish, the just shall be multiplied.
Proverbs Chapter 29
29:1. The man that with a stiff neck despiseth him that reproveth him,
shall suddenly be destroyed:  and health shall not follow him.
29:2. When just men increase, the people shall rejoice:  when the wicked
shall bear rule, the people shall mourn.
29:3. A man that loveth wisdom, rejoiceth his father:  but he that
maintaineth harlots, shall squander away his substance.
29:4. A just king setteth up the land:  a covetous man shall destroy it.
29:5. A man that speaketh to his friend with flattering and dissembling
words, spreadeth a net for his feet.
29:6. A snare shall entangle the wicked man when he sinneth:  and the
just shall praise and rejoice.
29:7. The just taketh notice of the cause of the poor:  the wicked is
void of knowledge.
29:8. Corrupt men bring a city to ruin:  but wise men turn away wrath.
29:9. If a wise man contend with a fool, whether he be angry, or laugh,
he shall find no rest.
29:10. Bloodthirsty men hate the upright:  but just men seek his soul.
29:11. A fool uttereth all his mind:  a wise man deferreth, and keepeth
it till afterwards.
29:12. A prince that gladly heareth lying words, hath all his servants
29:13. The poor man and the creditor have met one another:  the Lord is
the enlightener of them both.
29:14. The king that judgeth the poor in truth, his throne shall be
established for ever.
29:15. The rod and reproof give wisdom:  but the child that is left to
his own will, bringeth his mother to shame.
29:16. When the wicked are multiplied, crimes shall be multiplied:  but
the just shall see their downfall.
29:17. Instruct thy son and he shall refresh thee, and shall give
delight to thy soul.
29:18. When prophecy shall fail, the people shall be scattered abroad:
but he that keepeth the law, is blessed.
29:19. A slave will not be corrected by words:  because he understandeth
what thou sayest, and will not answer.
29:20. Hast thou seen a man hasty to speak?  folly is rather to be
looked for, than his amendment.
29:21. He that nourisheth his servant delicately from his childhood,
afterwards shall find him stubborn.
29:22. A passionate man provoketh quarrels:  and he that is easily
stirred up to wrath, shall be more prone to sin.
29:23. Humiliation followeth the proud:  and glory shall uphold the
humble of spirit.
29:24. He that is partaker with a thief, hateth his own soul:  he
heareth one putting him to his oath, and discovereth not.
29:25. He that feareth man shall quickly fall:  he that trusteth in the
Lord, shall be set on high.
29:26. Many seek the face of the prince:  but the judgment of every one
cometh forth from the Lord.
29:27. The just abhor a wicked man:  and the wicked loathe them that are
in the right way.  The son that keepeth the word, shall be free from
destruction.
Proverbs Chapter 30
The wise man thinketh humbly of himself.  His prayer and sentiments upon
certain virtues and vices.
30:1. The words of Gatherer the son of Vomiter.  The vision which the
man spoke, with whom God is, and who being strengthened by God, abiding
with him, said:
Gatherer, etc. . .Or, as it is in the Latin, Congregans the son of
Vomens.  The Latin interpreter has given us in this place the
signification of the Hebrew names, instead of the names themselves,
which are in the Hebrew, Agur the son of Jakeh.  But whether this Agur
be the same person as Solomon, as many think, or a different person,
whose doctrine was adopted by Solomon, and inserted among his parables
or proverbs, is uncertain.
30:2. I am the most foolish of men, and the wisdom of men is not with
30:3. I have not learned wisdom, and have not known the science of
30:4. Who hath ascended up into heaven, and descended?  who hath held
the wind in his hands?  who hath bound up the waters together as in a
garment?  who hath raised up all the borders of the earth?  what is his
name, and what is the name of his son, if thou knowest?
30:5. Every word of God is fire tried:  he is a buckler to them that
hope in him.
Is fire tried. . .That is, most pure, like gold purified by fire.
30:6. Add not any thing to his words, lest thou be reproved and found a
30:7. Two things I have asked of thee, deny them not to me before I
30:8. Remove far from me vanity, and lying words.  Give me neither
beggary, nor riches:  give me only the necessaries of life:
30:9. Lest perhaps being filled, I should be tempted to deny, and say:
Who is the Lord?  or being compelled by poverty, I should steal, and
forswear the name of my God.
30:10. Accuse not a servant to his master, lest he curse thee, and thou
30:11. There is a generation that curseth their father, and doth not
bless their mother.
30:12. A generation that are pure in their own eyes, and yet are not
washed from their filthiness.
30:13. A generation, whose eyes are lofty, and their eyelids lifted up
30:14. A generation that for teeth hath swords, and grindeth with their
jaw teeth, to devour the needy from off the earth, and the poor from
30:15. The horseleech hath two daughters that say:  Bring, bring.  There
are three things that never are satisfied, and the fourth never saith:
It is enough.
The horseleech. . .Concupiscence, which hath two daughters that are
never satisfied, viz., lust and avarice.
30:16. Hell and the mouth of the womb, and the earth which is not
satisfied with water:  and the fire never saith:  It is enough.
30:17. The eye that mocketh at his father, and that despiseth the
labour of his mother in bearing him, let the ravens of the brooks pick
it out, and the young eagles eat it.
30:18. Three things are hard to me, and the fourth I am utterly
ignorant of.
30:19. The way of an eagle in the air, the way of a serpent upon a
rock, the way of a ship in the midst of the sea, and the way of a man
30:20. Such also is the way of an adulterous woman, who eateth and
wipeth her mouth, and saith:  I have done no evil.
30:21. By three things the earth is disturbed, and the fourth it cannot
30:22. By a slave when he reigneth:  by a fool when be is filled with
30:23. By an odious woman when she is married:  and by a bondwoman when
she is heir to her mistress.
30:24. There are four very little things of the earth, and they are
wiser than the wise.
30:25. The ants, a feeble people, which provide themselves food in the
30:26. The rabbit, a weak people, which maketh its bed in the rock:
30:27. The locust hath no king, yet they all go out by their bands:
30:28. The stellio supporteth itself on hands, and dwelleth in kings'
The stellio. . .A kind of house lizard marked with spots like stars,
from whence it has its name.
30:19. There are three things, which go well, and the fourth that
walketh happily:
30:30. A lion, the strongest of beasts, who hath no fear of any thing
30:31. A cock girded about the loins:  and a ram:  and a king, whom none
30:32. There is that hath appeared a fool after he was lifted up on
high:  for if he had understood, he would have laid his hand upon his
30:33. And he that strongly squeezeth the paps to bring out milk,
straineth out butter:  and he that violently bloweth his nose, bringeth
out blood:  and he that provoketh wrath, bringeth forth strife.
Proverbs Chapter 31
An exhortation to chastity, temperance, and works of mercy; with the
praise of a wise woman.
31:1. The words of king Lamuel.  The vision wherewith his mother
instructed him.
Lamuel. . .This name signifies God with him, and is supposed to have
been one of the names of Solomon.
31:2. What, O my beloved, what, O the beloved of my womb, what, O the
beloved of my vows?
31:3. Give not thy substance to women, and thy riches to destroy kings.
31:4. Give not to kings, O Lamuel, give not wine to kings:  because
there is no secret where drunkenness reigneth:
31:5. And lest they drink and forget judgments, and pervert the cause
of the children of the poor.
31:6. Give strong drink to them that are sad; and wine to them that are
grieved in mind:
31:7. Let them drink, and forget their want, and remember their sorrow
31:8. Open thy mouth for the dumb, and for the causes of all the
children that pass.
31:9. Open thy mouth, decree that which is just, and do justice to the
needy and poor.
31:10. Who shall find a valiant woman?  far, and from the uttermost
coasts is the price of her.
31:11. The heart of her husband trusteth in her, and he shall have no
need of spoils.
31:12. She will render him good, and not evil all the days of her life.
31:13. She hath sought wool and flax, and hath wrought by the counsel
of her hands.
31:14. She is like the merchant's ship, she bringeth her bread from
31:15. And she hath risen in the night, and given a prey to her
household, and victuals to her maidens.
31:16. She hath considered a field, and bought it:  with the fruit of
her hands she hath planted a vineyard.
31:17. She hath girded her loins with strength, and hath strengthened
31:18. She hath tasted, and seen that her traffic is good:  her lamp
shall not be put out in the night.
31:19. She hath put out her hand to strong things, and her fingers have
taken hold of the spindle.
31:20. She hath opened her hand to the needy, and stretched out her
hands to the poor.
31:21. She shall not fear for her house in the cold of snow:  for all
her domestics are clothed with double garments.
31:22. She hath made for herself clothing of tapestry:  fine linen, and
purple, is her covering.
31:23. Her husband is honourable in the gates, when he sitteth among
the senators of the land.
31:24. She made fine linen, and sold it, and delivered a girdle to the
The Chanaanite. . .The merchant, for Chanaanite, in Hebrew, signifies a
31:25. Strength and beauty are her clothing, and she shall laugh in the
31:26. She hath opened her mouth to wisdom, and the law of clemency is
on her tongue.
31:27. She hath looked well on the paths of her house, and hath not
eaten her bread idle.
31:28. Her children rose up, and called her blessed:  her husband, and
he praised her.
31:29. Many daughters have gathered together riches:  thou hast
surpassed them all.
31:30. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain:  the woman that feareth
the Lord, she shall be praised.
31:31. Give her of the fruit of her hands:  and let her works praise her
in the gates.
ECCLESIASTES
This Book is called Ecclesiastes, or The Preacher, (in Hebrew,
Coheleth,) because in it, Solomon, as an excellent preacher, setteth
forth the vanity of the things of this world:  to withdraw the hearts
and affections of men from such empty toys.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 1
The vanity of all temporal things.
1:1. The words of Ecclesiastes, the son of David, king of Jerusalem.
1:2. Vanity of vanities, said Ecclesiastes:  vanity of vanities, and all
1:3. What hath a man more of all his labour, that he taketh under the
1:4. One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh:  but
the earth standeth for ever.
1:5. The sun riseth, and goeth down, and returneth to his place:  and
there rising again,
1:6. Maketh his round by the south, and turneth again to the north:  the
spirit goeth forward surveying all places round about, and returneth to
his circuits.
1:7. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea doth not overflow:
unto the place from whence the rivers come, they return, to flow again.
1:8. All things are hard:  man cannot explain them by word.  The eye is
not filled with seeing, neither is the ear filled with hearing.
1:9. What is it that hath been?  the same thing that shall be.  What is
it that hath been done?  the same that shall be done.
1:10. Nothing under the sun is new, neither is any man able to say:
Behold this is new:  for it hath already gone before in the ages that
were before us.
1:11. There is no remembrance of former things:  nor indeed of those
things which hereafter are to come, shall there be any remembrance with
them that shall be in the latter end.
1:12. I Ecclesiastes was king over Israel in Jerusalem,
1:13. And I proposed in my mind to seek and search out wisely
concerning all things that are done under the sun.  This painful
occupation hath God given to the children of men, to be exercised
1:14. I have seen all things that are done under the sun, and behold
all is vanity, and vexation of spirit.
1:15. The perverse are hard to be corrected, and the number of fools is
1:16. I have spoken in my heart, saying:  Behold I am become great, and
have gone beyond all in wisdom, that were before me in Jerusalem:  and
my mind hath contemplated many things wisely, and I have learned.
1:17. And I have given my heart to know prudence, and learning, and
errors, and folly:  and I have perceived that in these also there was
labour, and vexation of spirit,
1:18. Because in much wisdom there is much indignation:  and he that
addeth knowledge, addeth also labour.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 2
The vanity of pleasures, riches, and worldly labours.
2:1. I said in my heart:  I will go, and abound with delights, and enjoy
good things.  And I saw that this also was vanity.
2:2. Laughter I counted error:  and to mirth I said:  Why art thou vainly
2:3. I thought in my heart, to withdraw my flesh from wine, that I
might turn my mind to wisdom, and might avoid folly, till I might see
what was profitable for the children of men:  and what they ought to do
under the sun, all the days of their life.
2:4. I made me great works, I built me houses, and planted vineyards,
2:5. I made gardens, and orchards, and set them with trees of all
2:6. And I made me ponds of water, to water therewith the wood of the
young trees,
2:7. I got me menservants, and maidservants, and had a great family:
and herds of oxen, and great flocks of sheep, above all that were
before me in Jerusalem:
2:8. I heaped together for myself silver and gold, and the wealth of
kings, and provinces:  I made me singing men, and singing women, and the
delights of the sons of men, cups and vessels to serve to pour out
2:9. And I surpassed in riches all that were before me in Jerusalem:  my
wisdom also remained with me.
2:10. And whatsoever my eyes desired, I refused them not:  and I
withheld not my heart from enjoying every pleasure, and delighting
itself in the things which I had prepared:  and esteemed this my
portion, to make use of my own labour.
2:11. And when I turned myself to all the works which my hands had
wrought, and to the labours wherein I had laboured in vain, I saw in
all things vanity, and vexation of mind, and that nothing was lasting
under the sun.
2:12. I passed further to behold wisdom, and errors and folly, (What is
man, said I that he can follow the King his maker?)
2:13. And I saw that wisdom excelled folly, as much as light differeth
from darkness.
2:14. The eyes of a wise man are in his head:  the fool walketh in
darkness:  and I learned that they were to die both alike.
2:15. And I said in my heart:  If the death of the fool and mine shall
be one, what doth it avail me, that I have applied myself more to the
study of wisdom?  And speaking with my own mind, I perceived that this
also was vanity.
2:16. For there shall be no remembrance of the wise no more than of the
fool forever, and the times to come shall cover all things together
with oblivion:  the learned dieth in like manner as the unlearned.
2:17. And therefore I was weary of my life, when I saw that all things
under the sun are evil, and all vanity and vexation of spirit.
2:18. Again I hated all my application wherewith I had earnestly
laboured under the sun, being like to have an heir after me,
2:19. Whom I know not whether he will be a wise man or a fool, and he
shall have rule over all my labours with which I have laboured and been
solicitous:  and is there anything so vain?
2:20. Wherefore I left off and my heart renounced labouring anymore
under the sun.
2:21. For when a man laboureth in wisdom, and knowledge, and
carefulness, he leaveth what he hath gotten to an idle man:  so this
also is vanity, and a great evil.
2:22. For what profit shall a man have of all his labour, and vexation
of spirit, with which he hath been tormented under the sun?
2:23. All his days are full of sorrows and miseries, even in the night
he doth not rest in mind:  and is not this vanity?
2:24. Is it not better to eat and drink, and to shew his soul good
things of his labours?  and this is from the hand of God.
2:25. Who shall so feast and abound with delights as I?
2:26. God hath given to a man that is good in his sight, wisdom, and
knowledge, and joy:  but to the sinner he hath given vexation, and
superfluous care, to heap up and to gather together, and to give it to
him that hath pleased God:  but this also is vanity, and a fruitless
solicitude of the mind.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 3
All human things are liable to perpetual changes.  We are to rest on
God's providence, and cast away fruitless cares.
3:1. All things have their season, and in their times all things pass
under heaven.
3:2. A time to be born and a time to die.  A time to plant, and a time
to pluck up that which is planted.
3:3. A time to kill, and a time to heal.  A time to destroy, and a time
3:4. A time to weep, and a time to laugh.  A time to mourn, and a time
3:5. A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather.  A time to embrace,
and a time to be far from embraces.
3:6. A time to get, and a time to lose.  A time to keep, and a time to
3:7. A time to rend, and a time to sew.  A time to keep silence, and a
time to speak.
3:8. A time of love, and a time of hatred.  A time of war, and a time of
3:9. What hath man more of his labour?
3:10. I have seen the trouble, which God hath given the sons of men to
be exercised in it.
3:11. He hath made all things good in their time, and hath delivered
the world to their consideration, so that man cannot find out the work
which God hath made from the beginning to the end.
3:12. And I have known that there was no better thing than to rejoice,
and to do well in this life.
3:13. For every man that eateth and drinketh, and seeth good of his
labour, this is the gift of God.
3:14. I have learned that all the works which God hath made, continue
for ever:  we cannot add any thing, nor take away from those things
which God hath made that he may be feared.
3:15. That which hath been made, the same continueth:  the things that
shall be, have already been:  and God restoreth that which is past.
3:16. I saw under the sun in the place of judgment wickedness, and in
the place of justice iniquity.
3:17. And I said in my heart:  God shall judge both the just and the
wicked, and then shall be the time of every thing.
3:18. I said in my heart concerning the sons of men, that God would
prove them, and shew them to be like beasts.
3:19. Therefore the death of man, and of beasts is one, and the
condition of them both is equal:  as man dieth, so they also die:  all
things breathe alike, and man hath nothing more than beast:  all things
are subject to vanity.
Man hath nothing more, etc. . .Viz., as to the life of the body.
3:20. And all things go to one place:  of earth they were made, and into
earth they return together.
3:21. Who knoweth if the spirit of the children of Adam ascend upward,
and if the spirit of the beasts descend downward?
Who knoweth, etc. . .Viz., experimentally:  since no one in this life can
see a spirit.  But as to the spirit of the beasts, which is merely
animal, and become extinct by the death of the beast, who can tell the
manner it acts so as to give life and motion, and by death to descend
downward, that is, to be no more?
3:22. And I have found that nothing is better than for a man to rejoice
in his work, and that this is his portion.  For who shall bring him to
know the things that shall be after him?
Ecclesiastes Chapter 4
Other instances of human miseries.
4:1. I turned myself to other things, and I saw the oppressions that
are done under the sun, and the tears of the innocent, and they had no
comforter; and they were not able to resist their violence, being
destitute of help from any.
4:2. And I praised the dead rather than the living:
4:3. And I judged him happier than them both, that is not yet born, nor
hath seen the evils that are done under the sun.
4:4. Again I considered all the labours of men, and I remarked that
their industries are exposed to the envy of their neighbour:  so in this
also there is vanity, and fruitless care.
4:5. The fool foldeth his hands together, and eateth his own flesh,
4:6. Better is a handful with rest, than both hands full with labour,
and vexation of mind.
4:7. Considering I found also another vanity under the sun:
4:8. There is but one, and he hath not a second, no child, no brother,
and yet he ceaseth not to labour, neither are his eyes satisfied with
riches, neither doth he reflect, saying:  For whom do I labour, and
defraud my soul of good things?  in this also is vanity, and a grievous
4:9. It is better therefore that two should be together, than one:  for
they have the advantage of their society:
4:10. If one fall he shall be supported by the other:  woe to him that
is alone, for when he falleth, he hath none to lift him up.
4:11. And if two lie together, they shall warm one another:  how shall
one alone be warmed?
4:12. And if a man prevail against one, two shall withstand him:  a
threefold cord is not easily broken.
4:13. Better is a child that is poor and wise, than a king that is old
and foolish, who knoweth not to foresee for hereafter.
4:14. Because out of prison and chains sometimes a man cometh forth to
a kingdom:  and another born king is consumed with poverty.
4:15. I saw all men living, that walk under the sun with the second
young man, who shall rise up in his place.
4:16. The number of the people, of all that were before him is
infinite:  and they that shall come afterwards, shall not rejoice in
him:  but this also is vanity, and vexation of spirit.
4:17. Keep thy foot, when thou goest into the house of God, and draw
nigh to hear.  For much better is obedience, than the victims of fools,
who know not what evil they do.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 5
Caution in words.  Vows are to be paid.  Riches are often pernicious:
the moderate use of them is the gift of God.
5:1. Speak not any thing rashly, and let not thy heart be hasty to
utter a word before God.  For God is in heaven, and thou upon earth:
therefore let thy words be few.
5:2. Dreams follow many cares:  and in many words shall be found folly.
5:3. If thou hast vowed any thing to God, defer not to pay it:  for an
unfaithful and foolish promise displeaseth him:  but whatsoever thou
hast vowed, pay it.
5:4. And it is much better not to vow, than after a vow not to perform
the things promised.
5:5. Give not thy mouth to cause thy flesh to sin:  and say not before
the angel:  There is no providence:  lest God be angry at thy words, and
destroy all the works of thy hands.
5:6. Where there are many dreams, there are many vanities, and words
without number:  but do thou fear God.
5:7. If thou shalt see the oppressions of the poor, and violent
judgments, and justice perverted in the province, wonder not at this
matter:  for he that is high hath another higher, and there are others
still higher than these:
5:8. Moreover there is the king that reigneth over all the land subject
5:9. A covetous man shall not be satisfied with money:  and he that
loveth riches shall reap no fruit from them:  so this also is vanity.
5:10. Where there are great riches, there are also many to eat them.
And what doth it profit the owner, but that he seeth the riches with
5:11. Sleep is sweet to a labouring man, whether he eat little or much:
but the fulness of the rich will not suffer him to sleep.
5:12. There is also another grievous evil, which I have seen under the
sun:  riches kept to the hurt of the owner.
5:13. For they are lost with very great affliction:  he hath begotten a
son, who shall be in extremity of want.
5:14. As he came forth naked from his mother's womb, so shall he
return, and shall take nothing away with him of his labour.
5:15. A most deplorable evil:  as he came, so shall he return.  What then
doth it profit him that he hath laboured for the wind?
5:16. All the days of his life he eateth in darkness, and in many
cares, and in misery, and sorrow.
5:17. This therefore hath seemed good to me, that a man should eat and
drink, and enjoy the fruit of his labour, wherewith he hath laboured
under the sun, all the days of his life, which God hath given him:  and
this is his portion.
5:18. And every man to whom God hath given riches, and substance, and
hath given him power to eat thereof, and to enjoy his portion, and to
rejoice of his labour:  this is the gift of God.
5:19. For he shall not much remember the days of his life, because God
entertaineth his heart with delight.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 6
The misery of the covetous man.
6:1. There is also another evil, which I have seen under the sun, and
that frequent among men:
6:2. A man to whom God hath given riches, and substance, and honour,
and his soul wanteth nothing of all that he desireth:  yet God doth not
give him power to eat thereof, but a stranger shall eat it up.  This is
vanity and a great misery.
6:3. If a man beget a hundred children, and live many years, and attain
to a great age, and his soul make no use of the goods of his substance,
and he be without burial:  of this man I pronounce, that the untimely
born is better than he.
6:4. For he came in vain, and goeth to darkness, and his name shall be
wholly forgotten.
6:5. He hath not seen the sun, nor known the distance of good and evil:
6:6. Although he lived two thousand years, and hath not enjoyed good
things:  do not all make haste to one place?
6:7. All the labour of man is for his mouth, but his soul shall not be
6:8. What hath the wise man more than the fool?  and what the poor man,
but to go thither, where there is life?
6:9. Better it is to see what thou mayst desire, than to desire that
which thou canst not know.  But this also is vanity, and presumption of
6:10. He that shall be, his name is already called:  and it is known,
that he is a man, and cannot contend in judgment with him that is
stronger than himself.
6:11. There are many words that have much vanity in disputing.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 7
Prescriptions against worldly vanities:  mortification, patience, and
seeking wisdom.
7:1. What needeth a man to seek things that are above him, whereas he
knoweth not what is profitable for him in his life, in all the days of
his pilgrimage, and the time that passeth like a shadow?  Or who can
tell him what shall be after him under the sun?
7:2. A good name is better than precious ointments:  and the day of
death than the day of one's birth.
7:3. It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of
feasting:  for in that we are put in mind of the end of all, and the
living thinketh what is to come.
7:4. Anger is better than laughter:  because by the sadness of the
countenance the mind of the offender is corrected.
Anger. . .That is, correction, or just wrath and zeal against evil.
7:5. The heart of the wise is where there is mourning, and the heart of
fools where there is mirth.
7:6. It is better to be rebuked by a wise man, than to be deceived by
the flattery of fools.
7:7. For as the crackling of thorns burning under a pot, so is the
laughter of a fool:  now this also is vanity.
7:8. Oppression troubleth the wise, and shall destroy the strength of
7:9. Better is the end of a speech than the beginning.  Better is the
patient man than the presumptuous.
7:10. Be not quickly angry:  for anger resteth in the bosom of a fool.
7:11. Say not:  What thinkest thou is the cause that former times were
better than they are now?  for this manner of question is foolish.
7:12. Wisdom with riches is more profitable, and bringeth more
advantage to them that see the sun.
7:13. For as wisdom is a defence, so money is a defence:  but learning
and wisdom excel in this, that they give life to him that possesseth
7:14. Consider the works of God, that no man can correct whom he hath
7:15. In the good day enjoy good things, and beware beforehand of the
evil day:  for God hath made both the one and the other, that man may
not find against him any just complaint.
7:16. These things also I saw in the days of my vanity:  A just man
perisheth in his justice, and a wicked man liveth a long time in his
7:17. Be not over just:  and be not more wise than is necessary, lest
thou become stupid.
Over just. . .Viz., By an excessive rigour in censuring the ways of God
in bearing with the wicked.
7:18. Be not overmuch wicked:  and be not foolish, lest thou die before
Be not overmuch wicked. . .That is, lest by the greatness of your sin
you leave no room for mercy.
7:19. It is good that thou shouldst hold up the just, yea and from him
withdraw not thy hand:  for he that feareth God, neglecteth nothing.
7:20. Wisdom hath strengthened the wise more than ten princes of the
7:21. For there is no just man upon earth, that doth good, and sinneth
7:22. But do not apply thy heart to all words that are spoken:  lest
perhaps thou hear thy servant reviling thee.
7:23. For thy conscience knoweth that thou also hast often spoken evil
7:24. I have tried all things in wisdom.  I have said:  I will be wise:
and it departed farther from me,
7:25. Much more than it was:  it is a great depth, who shall find it
7:26. I have surveyed all things with my mind, to know, and consider,
and seek out wisdom and reason:  and to know the wickedness of the fool,
and the error of the imprudent:
7:27. And I have found a woman more bitter than death, who is the
hunter's snare, and her heart is a net, and her hands are bands.  He
that pleaseth God shall escape from her:  but he that is a sinner, shall
be caught by her.
7:28. Lo this have I found, said Ecclesiastes, weighing one thing after
another, that I might find out the account,
7:29. Which yet my soul seeketh, and I have not found it.  One man among
a thousand I have found, a woman among them all I have not found.
7:30. Only this I have found, that God made man right, and he hath
entangled himself with an infinity of questions.  Who is as the wise
man?  and who hath known the resolution of the word?
Of the word. . .That is, of this obscure and difficult matter.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 8
True wisdom is to observe God's commandments.  The ways of God are
unsearchable.
8:1. The wisdom of a man shineth in his countenance, and the most
mighty will change his face.
8:2. I observe the mouth of the king, and the commandments of the oath
8:3. Be not hasty to depart from his face, and do not continue in an
evil work:  for he will do all that pleaseth him:
8:4. And his word is full of power:  neither can any man say to him:  Why
dost thou so?
8:5. He that keepeth the commandment, shall find no evil.  The heart of
a wiser man understandeth time and answer.
8:6. There is a time and opportunity for every business, and great
affliction for man:
8:7. Because he is ignorant of things past, and things to come he
cannot know by any messenger.
8:8. It is not in man's power to stop the spirit, neither hath he power
in the day of death, neither is he suffered to rest when war is at
hand, neither shall wickedness save the wicked.
8:9. All these things I have considered, and applied my heart to all
the works that are done under the sun.  Sometimes one man ruleth over
another to his own hurt.
8:10. I saw the wicked buried:  who also when they were yet living were
in the holy place, and were praised in the city as men of just works:
but this also is vanity.
8:11. For because sentence is not speedily pronounced against the evil,
the children of men commit evils without any fear.
8:12. But though a sinner do evil a hundred times, and by patience be
borne withal, I know from thence that it shall be well with them that
fear God, who dread his face.
8:13. But let it not be well with the wicked, neither let his days be
prolonged, but as a shadow let them pass away that fear not the face of
8:14. There is also another vanity, which is done upon the earth.  There
are just men to whom evils happen, as though they had done the works of
the wicked:  and there are wicked men, who are as secure as though they
had the deeds of the just:  but this also I judge most vain.
8:15. Therefore I commended mirth, because there was no good for a man
under the sun, but to eat, and drink, and be merry, and that he should
take nothing else with him of his labour in the days of his life, which
God hath given him under the sun.
No good for a man, etc. . .Some commentators think the wise man here
speaks in the person of the libertine:  representing the objections of
these men against divine providence, and the inferences they draw from
thence, which he takes care afterwards to refute.  But it may also be
said, that his meaning is to commend the moderate use of the goods of
this world, preferably to the cares and solicitudes of worldlings,
their attachment to vanity and curiosity, and presumptuously diving
into the unsearchable ways of divine providence.
8:16. And I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to understand the
distraction that is upon earth:  for there are some that day and night
take no sleep with their eyes.
8:17. And I understood that man can find no reason of all those works
of God that are done under the sun:  and the more he shall labour to
seek, so much the less shall he find:  yea, though the wise man shall
say, that he knoweth it, he shall not be able to find it.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 9
Man knows not certainty that he is in God's grace.  After death no more
work or merit.
9:1. All these things have I considered in my heart, that I might
carefully understand them:  there are just men and wise men, and their
works are in the hand of God:  and yet man knoweth not whether he be
worthy of love, or hatred:
9:2. But all things are kept uncertain for the time to come, because
all things equally happen to the just and to the wicked, to the good
and to the evil, to the clean and to the unclean, to him that offereth
victims, and to him that despiseth sacrifices.  As the good is, so also
is the sinner:  as the perjured, so he also that sweareth truth.
9:3. This is a very great evil among all things that are done under the
sun, that the same things happen to all men:  whereby also the hearts of
the children of men are filled with evil, and with contempt while they
live, and afterwards they shall be brought down to hell.
9:4. There is no man that liveth always, or that hopeth for this:  a
living dog is better than a dead lion.
9:5. For the living know that they shall die, but the dead know nothing
more, neither have they a reward any more:  for the memory of them is
Know nothing more. . .Viz., as to the transactions of this world, in
which they have now no part, unless it be revealed to them; neither
have they any knowledge or power now of doing any thing to secure their
eternal state, (if they have not taken care of it in their lifetime:)
nor can they now procure themselves any good, as the living always may
do, by the grace of God.
9:6. Their love also, and their hatred, and their envy are all
perished, neither have they any part in this world, and in the work
that is done under the sun.
9:7. Go then, and eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with
gladness:  because thy works please God.
9:8. At all times let thy garments be white, and let not oil depart
from thy head.
9:9. Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest, all the days of thy
unsteady life, which are given to thee under the sun, all the time of
thy vanity:  for this is thy portion in life, and in thy labour
wherewith thou labourest under the sun.
9:10. Whatsoever thy hand is able to do, do it earnestly:  for neither
work, nor reason, nor wisdom, nor knowledge shall be in hell, whither
thou art hastening.
9:11. I turned me to another thing, and I saw that under the sun, the
race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to
the wise, nor riches to the learned, nor favour to the skilful:  but
time and chance in all.
9:12. Man knoweth not his own end:  but as fishes are taken with the
hook, and as birds are caught with the snare, so men are taken in the
evil time, when it shall suddenly come upon them.
9:13. This wisdom also I have seen under the sun, and it seemed to me
to be very great:
9:14. A little city, and few men in it:  there came against it a great
king, and invested it, and built bulwarks round about it, and the siege
was perfect.
9:15. Now there was found in it a man poor and wise, and he delivered
the city by his wisdom, and no man afterward remembered that poor man.
9:16. And I said that wisdom is better than strength:  how then is the
wisdom of the poor man slighted, and his words not heard?
9:17. The words of the wise are heard in silence, more than the cry of
a prince among fools.
9:18. Better is wisdom, than weapons of war:  and he that shall offend
in one, shall lose many good things.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 10
Observations on wisdom and folly, ambition and detraction.
10:1. Dying flies spoil the sweetness of the ointment.  Wisdom and glory
is more precious than a small and shortlived folly.
10:2. The heart of a wise man is in his right hand, and the heart of a
fool is in his left hand.
10:3. Yea, and the fool when he walketh in the way, whereas he himself
is a fool, esteemeth all men fools.
10:4. If the spirit of him that hath power, ascend upon thee, leave not
thy place:  because care will make the greatest sins to cease.
10:5. There is an evil that I have seen under the sun, as it were by an
error proceeding from the face of the prince:
10:6. A fool set in high dignity, and the rich sitting beneath.
10:7. I have seen servants upon horses:  and princes walking on the
ground as servants.
10:8. He that diggeth a pit, shall fall into it:  and he that breaketh a
hedge, a serpent shall bite him.
10:9. He that removeth stones, shall be hurt by them:  and he that
cutteth trees, shall be wounded by them.
10:10. If the iron be blunt, and be not as before, but be made blunt,
with much labour it shall be sharpened:  and after industry shall follow
10:11. If a serpent bite in silence, he is nothing better that
backbiteth secretly.
10:12. The words of the mouth of a wise man are grace:  but the lips of
a fool shall throw him down headlong.
10:13. The beginning of his words is folly, and the end of his talk is
a mischievous error.
10:14. A fool multiplieth words.  A man cannot tell what hath been
before him:  and what shall be after him, who can tell him?
10:15. The labour of fools shall afflict them that know not how to go
to the city.
10:16. Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child, and when the
princes eat in the morning.
10:17. Blessed is the land, whose king is noble, and whose princes eat
in due season for refreshment, and not for riotousness.
10:18. By slothfulness a building shall be brought down, and through
the weakness of hands, the house shall drop through.
10:19. For laughter they make bread, and wine that the living may
feast:  and all things obey money.
10:20. Detract not the king, no not in thy thought; and speak not evil
of the rich man in thy private chamber:  because even the birds of the
air will carry thy voice, and he that hath wings will tell what thou
Ecclesiastes Chapter 11
Exhortation to works of mercy, while we have time, to diligence in
good, and to the remembrance of death and judgment.
11:1. Cast thy bread upon the running waters:  for after a long time
thou shalt find it again.
11:2. Give a portion to seven, and also to eight:  for thou knowest not
what evil shall be upon the earth.
11:3. If the clouds be full, they will pour out rain upon the earth.  If
the tree fall to the south, or to the north, in what place soever it
shall fall, there shall it be.
If the tree fall, etc. . .The state of the soul is unchangeable when
once she comes to heaven or hell:  and a soul that departs this life in
the state of grace, shall never fall from grace:  as on the other side,
a soul that dies out of the state of grace, shall never come to it.  But
this does not exclude a place of temporal punishments for such souls as
die in the state of grace:  yet not so as to be entirely pure:  and
therefore they shall be saved, indeed, yet so as by fire.  1 Cor. 3.13,
11:4. He that observeth the wind, shall not sow:  and he that
considereth the clouds, shall never reap.
11:5. As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the
bones are joined together in the womb of her that is with child:  so
thou knowest not the works of God, who is the maker of all.
11:6. In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening let not thy hand
cease:  for thou knowest not which may rather spring up, this or that:
and if both together, it shall be the better.
11:7. The light is sweet, and it is delightful for the eyes to see the
11:8. If a man live many years, and have rejoiced in them all, he must
remember the darksome time, and the many days:  which when they shall
come, the things past shall be accused of vanity.
11:9. Rejoice therefore, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart
be in that which is good in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways
of thy heart, and in the sight of thy eyes:  and know that for all these
God will bring thee into judgment.
11:10. Remove anger from thy heart, and put away evil from thy flesh.
For youth and pleasure are vain.
Ecclesiastes Chapter 12
The Creator is to be remembered in the days of our youth:  all worldly
things are vain:  we should fear God and keep his commandments.
12:1. Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, before the time of
affliction come, and the years draw nigh of which thou shalt say:  They
please me not:
12:2. Before the sun, and the light, and the moon, and the stars be
darkened, and the clouds return after the rain:
Before the sun, etc. . .That is, before old age:  the effects of which
upon all the senses and faculties are described in the following
verses, under a variety of figures.
12:3. When the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men
shall stagger, and the grinders shall be idle in a small number, and
they that look through the holes shall be darkened:
12:4. And they shall shut the doors in the street, when the grinder's
voice shall be low, and they shall rise up at the voice of the bird,
and all the daughters of music shall grow deaf.
12:5. And they shall fear high things, and they shall be afraid in the
way, the almond tree shall flourish, the locust shall be made fat, and
the caper tree shall be destroyed:  because man shall go into the house
of his eternity, and the mourners shall go round about in the street.
12:6. Before the silver cord be broken, and the golden fillet shrink
back, and the pitcher be crushed at the fountain, and the wheel be
broken upon the cistern,
12:7. And the dust return into its earth, from whence it was, and the
spirit return to God, who gave it.
12:8. Vanity of vanities, said Ecclesiastes, and all things are vanity.
12:9. And whereas Ecclesiastes was very wise, he taught the people, and
declared the things that he had done:  and seeking out, he set forth
many parables.
12:10. He sought profitable words, and wrote words most right, and full
12:11. The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails deeply fastened
in, which by the counsel of masters are given from one shepherd.
12:12. More than these, my son, require not.  Of making many books there
is no end:  and much study is an affliction of the flesh.
12:13. Let us all hear together the conclusion of the discourse.  Fear
God, and keep his commandments:  for this is all man:
All man. . .The whole business and duty of man.
12:14. And all things that are done, God will bring into judgment for
every error, whether it be good or evil.
Error. . .Or, hidden and secret thing.
SOLOMON'S CANTICLE OF CANTICLES
This Book is called the Canticle of Canticles, that is to say, the most
excellent of all canticles:  because it is full of high mysteries,
relating to the happy union of Christ and his spouse:  which is here
begun by love; and is to be eternal in heaven.  The spouse of Christ is
the church:  more especially as to the happiest part of it, viz.,
perfect souls, every one of which is his beloved, but, above all
others, the immaculate and ever blessed virgin mother.
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 1
The spouse aspires to an union with Christ, their mutual love for one
1:1. Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth:  for thy breasts are
better than wine,
Let him kiss me. . .The church, the spouse of Christ, prays that he may
love and have peace with her, which the spouse prefers to every thing
delicious:  and therefore expresses (ver. 2) that young maidens, that is
the souls of the faithful, have loved thee.
1:2. Smelling sweet of the best ointments.  Thy name is as oil poured
out:  therefore young maidens have loved thee.
1:3. Draw me:  we will run after thee to the odour of thy ointments.  The
king hath brought me into his storerooms:  we will be glad and rejoice
in thee, remembering thy breasts more than wine:  the rightous love
Draw me. . .That is, with thy grace:  otherwise I should not be able to
come to thee.  This metaphor shews that we cannot of ourselves come to
Christ our Lord, unless he draws us by his grace, which is laid up in
his storerooms:  that is, in the mysteries of Faith, which God in his
goodness and love for mankind hath revealed, first by his servant Moses
in the Old Law in figure only, and afterwards in reality by his only
begotten Son Jesus Christ.
1:4. I am black but beautiful, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the
tents of Cedar, as the curtains of Solomon.
I am black but beautiful. . .That is, the church of Christ founded in
humility appearing outwardly afflicted, and as it were black and
contemptible; but inwardly, that is, in its doctrine and morality, fair
and beautiful.
1:5. Do not consider me that I am brown, because the sun hath altered
my colour:  the sons of my mother have fought against me, they have made
me the keeper in the vineyards:  my vineyard I have not kept.
1:6. Shew me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where
thou liest in the midday, lest I begin to wander after the flocks of
thy companions.
1:7. If thou know not thyself, O fairest among women, go forth, and
follow after the steps of the flocks, and feed thy kids beside the
tents of the shepherds.
If thou know not thyself, etc. . .Christ encourages his spouse to follow
and watch her flock:  and though she know not entirely the power at hand
to assist her, he tells her, ver. 8, my company of horsemen, that is,
his angels, are always watching and protecting her.  And in the
following verses he reminds her of the virtues and gifts with which he
has endowed her.
1:8. To my company of horsemen, in Pharao's chariots, have I likened
thee, O my love.
1:9. Thy cheeks are beautiful as the turtledove's, thy neck as jewels.
1:10. We will make thee chains of gold, inlaid with silver.
1:11. While the king was at his repose, my spikenard sent forth the
odour thereof.
1:12. A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me, he shall abide between my
1:13. A cluster of cypress my love is to me, in the vineyards of
1:14. Behold thou are fair, O my love, behold thou are fair, thy eyes
are as those of doves.
1:15. Behold thou art fair, my beloved, and comely.  Our bed is
flourishing.
1:16. The beams of our houses are of cedar, our rafters of cypress
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 2
Christ caresses his spouse:  he invites her to him.
2:1. I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valleys.
I am the flower of the field. . .Christ professes himself the flower of
mankind, yea, the Lord of all creatures:  and, ver. 2, declares the
excellence of his spouse, the true church above all other societies,
which are to be considered as thorns.
2:2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
2:3. As the apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my beloved
among the sons.  I sat down under his shadow, whom I desired:  and his
fruit was sweet to my palate.
2:4. He brought me into the cellar of wine, he set in order charity in
2:5. Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples:  because I
languish with love.
2:6. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace
2:7. I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and the
harts of the field, that you stir not up, nor make the beloved to
awake, till she please.
2:8. The voice of my beloved, behold he cometh leaping upon the
mountains, skipping over the hills.
The voice of my beloved:  that is, the preaching of the gospel
surmounting difficulties figuratively here expressed by mountains and
little hills.
2:9. My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart.  Behold he standeth
behind our wall, looking through the windows, looking through the
2:10. Behold my beloved speaketh to me:  Arise, make haste, my love, my
dove, my beautiful one, and come.
2:11. For winter is now past, the rain is over and gone.
2:12. The flowers have appeared in our land, the time of pruning is
come:  the voice of the turtle is heard in our land:
2:13. The fig tree hath put forth her green figs:  the vines in flower
yield their sweet smell.  Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come:
2:14. My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hollow places of the
wall, shew me thy face, let thy voice sound in my ears:  for thy voice
is sweet, and thy face comely.
2:15. Catch us the little foxes that destroy the vines:  for our
vineyard hath flourished.
Catch us the little foxes. . .Christ commands his pastors to catch false
teachers, by holding forth their fallacy and erroneous doctrine, which
like foxes would bite and destroy the vines.
2:16. My beloved to me, and I to him who feedeth among the lilies,
2:17. Till the day break, and the shadows retire.  Return:  be like, my
beloved, to a roe, or to a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 3
The spouse seeks Christ.  The glory of his humanity.
3:1. In my bed by night I sought him whom my soul loveth:  I sought him,
and found him not.
In my bed by night, etc. . .The Gentiles as in the dark, and seeking in
heathen delusion what they could not find, the true God, until Christ
revealed his doctrine to them by his watchmen, (ver. 3,) that is, by
the apostles, and teachers by whom they were converted to the true
faith; and holding that faith firmly, the spouse (the Catholic Church)
declares, ver. 4, That she will not let him go, till she bring him into
her mother's house, etc., that is, till at last, the Jews also shall
3:2. I will rise, and will go about the city:  in the streets and the
broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth:  I sought him, and I
found him not.
3:3. The watchmen who keep the city, found me:  Have you seen him, whom
my soul loveth?
3:4. When I had a little passed by them, I found him whom my soul
loveth:  I held him:  and I will not let him go, till I bring him into my
mother's house, and into the chamber of her that bore me.
3:5. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and the harts
of the fields, that you stir not up, nor awake my beloved, till she
3:6. Who is she that goeth up by the desert, as a pillar of smoke of
aromatical spices, of myrrh, and frankincense, and of all the powders
of the perfumer?
3:7. Behold threescore valiant ones of the most valiant of Israel,
surrounded the bed of Solomon?
3:8. All holding swords, and most expert in war:  every man's sword upon
his thigh, because of fears in the night.
3:9. King Solomon hath made him a litter of the wood of Libanus:
3:10. The pillars thereof he made of silver, the seat of gold, the
going up of purple:  the midst he covered with charity for the daughters
of Jerusalem.
3:11. Go forth, ye daughters of Sion, and see king Solomon in the
diadem, wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of the joy of his
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 4
Christ sets forth the graces of his spouse:  and declares his love for
4:1. How beautiful art thou, my love, how beautiful art thou! thy eyes
are doves' eyes, besides what is hid within.  Thy hair is as flocks of
goats, which come up from mount Galaad.
How beautiful art thou. . .Christ again praises the beauties of his
church, which through the whole of this chapter are exemplified by a
variety of metaphors, setting forth her purity, her simplicity, and her
4:2. Thy teeth as flocks of sheep, that are shorn, which come up from
the washing, all with twins, and there is none barren among them.
4:3. Thy lips are as a scarlet lace:  and thy speech sweet.  Thy cheeks
are as a piece of a pomegranate, besides that which lieth hid within.
4:4. Thy neck, is as the tower of David, which is built with bulwarks:
a thousand bucklers hang upon it, all the armour of valiant men.
4:5. Thy two breasts like two young roes that are twins, which feed
among the lilies.
Thy two breasts, etc. . .Mystically to be understood:  the love of God
and the love of our neighbour, which are so united as twins which feed
among the lilies:  that is, the love of God and our neighbour, feeds on
the divine mysteries and the holy sacraments, left by Christ to his
spouse to feed and nourish her children.
4:6. Till the day break, and the shadows retire, I will go to the
mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
4:7. Thou art all fair, O my love, and there is not a spot in thee.
4:8. Come from Libanus, my spouse, come from Libanus, come:  thou shalt
be crowned from the top of Amana, from the top of Sanir and Hermon,
from the dens of the lions, from the mountains of the leopards.
4:9. Thou hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse, thou hast
wounded my heart with one of thy eyes, and with one hair of thy neck.
4:10. How beautiful are thy breasts, my sister, my spouse! thy breasts
are more beautiful than wine, and the sweet smell of thy ointments
above all aromatical spices.
4:11. Thy lips, my spouse, are as a dropping honeycomb, honey and milk
are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments, as the smell of
frankincense.
4:12. My sister, my spouse, is a garden enclosed, a garden enclosed, a
fountain sealed up.
My sister, etc., a garden enclosed. . .Figuratively the church is
enclosed, containing only the faithful.  A fountain sealed up. . .That
none can drink of its waters, that is, the graces and spiritual
benefits of the holy sacraments, but those who are within its walls.
4:13. Thy plants are a paradise of pomegranates with the fruits of the
orchard.  Cypress with spikenard.
4:14. Spikenard and saffron, sweet cane and cinnamon, with all the
trees of Libanus, myrrh and aloes with all the chief perfumes.
4:15. The fountain of gardens:  the well of living waters, which run
with a strong stream from Libanus.
4:16. Arise, O north wind, and come, O south wind, blow through my
garden, and let the aromatical spices thereof flow.
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 5
Christ calls his spouse:  she languishes with love:  and describes him by
5:1. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat the fruit of his
apple trees.  I am come into my garden, O my sister, my spouse, I have
gathered my myrrh, with my aromatical spices:  I have eaten the
honeycomb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk:  eat, O
friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my dearly beloved.
Let my beloved come into his garden, etc. . .Garden, mystically the
church of Christ, abounding with fruit, that is, the good works of the
5:2. I sleep, and my heart watcheth:  the voice of my beloved knocking:
Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled:  for my head is
full of dew, and my locks of the drops of the nights.
5:3. I have put off my garment, how shall I put it on?  I have washed my
feet, how shall I defile them?
5:4. My beloved put his hand through the key hole, and my bowels were
moved at his touch.
My beloved put his hand through the key hole, etc. . .The spouse of
Christ, his church, at times as it were penned up by its persecutors,
and in fears, expecting the divine assistance, here signified by his
hand:  and ver. 6, but he had turned aside and was gone, that is, Christ
permitting a further trial of suffering:  and again, ver. 7, the
keepers, etc., signifying the violent and cruel persecutors of the
church taking her veil, despoiling the church of its places of worship
and ornaments for the divine service.
5:5. I arose up to open to my beloved:  my hands dropped with myrrh, and
my fingers were full of the choicest myrrh.
5:6. I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved:  but he had turned
aside, and was gone.  My soul melted when he spoke:  I sought him, and
found him not:  I called, and he did not answer me.
5:7. The keepers that go about the city found me:  they struck me:  and
wounded me:  the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
5:8. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved,
that you tell him that I languish with love.
5:9. What manner of one is thy beloved of the beloved, O thou most
beautiful among women?  what manner of one is thy beloved of the
beloved, that thou hast so adjured us?
5:10. My beloved is white and ruddy, chosen out of thousands.
My beloved, etc. . .In this and the following verses, the church
mystically describes Christ to those who know him not, that is, to
infidels in order to convert them to the true faith.
5:11. His head is as the finest gold:  his locks as branches of palm
trees, black as a raven.
5:12. His eyes as doves upon brooks of waters, which are washed with
milk, and sit beside the plentiful streams.
5:13. His cheeks are as beds of aromatical spices set by the perfumers.
His lips are as lilies dropping choice myrrh.
5:14. His hands are turned and as of gold, full of hyacinths.  His belly
as of ivory, set with sapphires.
5:15. His legs as pillars of marble, that are set upon bases of gold.
His form as of Libanus, excellent as the cedars.
5:16. His throat most sweet, and he is all lovely:  such is my beloved,
and he is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.
5:17. Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou most beautiful among women?
whither is thy beloved turned aside, and we will seek him with thee?
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 6
The spouse of Christ is but one:  she is fair and terrible.
6:1. My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the bed of aromatical
spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
My beloved is gone down into his garden. . .Christ, pleased with the
good works of his holy and devout servants labouring in his garden, is
always present with them:  but the words is gone down, are to be
understood, that after trying his Church by permitting persecution, he
comes to her assistance and she rejoices at his coming.
6:2. I to my beloved, and my beloved to me, who feedeth among the
6:3. Thou art beautiful, O my love, sweet and comely as Jerusalem
terrible as an army set in array.
6:4. Turn away thy eyes from me, for they have made me flee away.  Thy
hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from Galaad.
6:5. Thy teeth as a flock of sheep, which come up from the washing, all
with twins, and there is none barren among them.
6:6. Thy cheeks are as the bark of a pomegranate, beside what is hidden
within thee.
6:7. There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, and young
maidens without number.
6:8. One is my dove, my perfect one is but one, she is the only one of
her mother, the chosen of her that bore her.  The daughters saw her, and
declared her most blessed:  the queens and concubines, and they praised
One is my dove, etc. . .That is, my church is one, and she only is
perfect and blessed.
6:9. Who is she that cometh forth as the morning rising, fair as the
moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army set in array?
Who is she, etc. . .Here is a beautiful metaphor describing the church
from the beginning.  As, the morning rising, signifying the church
before the written law; fair as the moon, shewing her under the light
of the gospel:  and terrible as an army, the power of Christ's church
against its enemies.
6:10. I went down into the garden of nuts, to see the fruits of the
valleys, and to look if the vineyard had flourished, and the
pomegranates budded.
6:11. I knew not:  my soul troubled me for the chariots of Aminadab.
6:12. Return, return, O Sulamitess:  return, return that we may behold
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 7
A further description of the graces of the church the spouse of Christ.
7:1. What shalt thou see in the Sulamitess but the companies of camps?
How beautiful are thy steps in shoes, O prince's daughter!  The joints
of thy thighs are like jewels, that are made by the hand of a skilful
How beautiful are thy steps, etc. . .By these metaphors are signified
the power and mission of the church in propagating the true faith.
7:2. Thy navel is like a round bowl never wanting cups.  Thy belly is
like a heap of wheat, set about with lilies.
7:3. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.
7:4. Thy neck as a tower of ivory.  Thy eyes like the fishpools in
Hesebon, which are in the gate of the daughter of the multitude.  Thy
nose is as the tower of Libanus, that looketh toward Damascus.
7:5. Thy head is like Carmel:  and the hairs of thy head as the purple
of the king bound in the channels.
Thy head is like Carmel. . .Christ, the invisible head of his church, is
here signified.
7:6. How beautiful art thou, and how comely, my dearest, in delights!
7:7. Thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of
7:8. I said:  I will go up into the palm tree, and will take hold of the
fruit thereof:  and thy breasts shall be as the clusters of the vine:
and the odour of thy mouth like apples.
7:9. Thy throat like the best wine, worthy for my beloved to drink, and
for his lips and his teeth to ruminate.
7:10. I to my beloved, and his turning is towards me.
7:11. Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field, let us abide in
the villages.
7:12. Let us get up early to the vineyards, let us see if the vineyard
flourish, if the flowers be ready to bring forth fruits, if the
pomegranates flourish:  there will I give thee my breasts.
7:13. The mandrakes give a smell.  In our gates are all fruits:  the new
and the old, my beloved, I have kept for thee.
Canticle of Canticles Chapter 8
The love of the church to Christ:  his love to her.
8:1. Who shall give thee to me for my brother, sucking the breasts of
my mother, that I may find thee without, and kiss thee, and now no man
may despise me?
8:2. I will take hold of thee, and bring thee into my mother's house:
there thou shalt teach me, and I will give thee a cup of spiced wine
and new wine of my pomegranates.
8:3. His left hand under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me.
His left hand, etc. . .Words of the church to Christ.  His left hand,
signifying the Old Testament, and his right hand, the New.
8:4. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that you stir not up, nor
awake my love till she please.
8:5. Who is this that cometh up from the desert, flowing with delights,
leaning upon her beloved?  Under the apple tree I raised thee up:  there
thy mother was corrupted, there she was defloured that bore thee.
Who is this, etc. . .The angels with admiration behold the Gentiles
converted to the faith:  coming up from the desert, that is, coming from
heathenism and false worship:  flowing with delights, that is, abounding
with good works which are pleasing to God:  leaning on her beloved, on
the promise of Christ to his Church, that the gates of hell should not
prevail against it; and supported by his grace conferred by the
sacraments.  Under the apple tree I raised thee up; that is, that Christ
redeemed the Gentiles at the foot of the cross, where the synagogue of
the Jews (the mother church) was corrupted by their denying him, and
crucifying him.
8:6. Put me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm, for love
is strong as death, jealousy as hard as hell, the lamps thereof are
fire and flames.
8:7. Many waters cannot quench charity, neither can the floods drown
it:  if a man should give all the substance of his house for love, he
shall despise it as nothing.
8:8. Our sister is little, and hath no breasts.  What shall we do to our
sister in the day when she is to be spoken to?
Our sister is little, etc. . .Mystically signifies the Jews, who are to
be spoken to:  that is, converted towards the end of the world:  and then
shall become a wall, that is, a part of the building, the church of
8:9. If she be a wall:  let us build upon it bulwarks of silver:  if she
be a door, let us join it together with boards of cedar.
8:10. I am a wall:  and my breasts are as a tower since I am become in
his presence as one finding peace.
8:11. The peaceable had a vineyard, in that which hath people:  he let
out the same to keepers, every man bringeth for the fruit thereof a
thousand pieces of silver.
8:12. My vineyard is before me.  A thousand are for thee, the peaceable,
and two hundred for them that keep the fruit thereof.
8:13. Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the friends hearken:  make me
hear thy voice.
8:14. Flee away, O my beloved, and be like to the roe, and to the young
hart upon the mountains of aromatical spices.
THE BOOK OF WISDOM
This Book is so called, because it treats of the excellence of WISDOM,
the means to obtain it, and the happy fruits it produces.  It is written
in the person of Solomon, and contains his sentiments.  But it is
uncertain who was the writer.  It abounds with instructions and
exhortations to kings and all magistrates to minister justice in the
commonwealth, teaching all kinds of virtues under the general names of
justice and wisdom.  It contains also many prophecies of Christ's
coming, passion, resurrection, and other Christian mysteries.  The whole
may be divided into three parts.  In the first six chapters, the author
admonishes all superiors to love and exercise justice and wisdom.  In
the next three, he teacheth that wisdom proceedeth only from God, and
is procured by prayer and a good life.  In the other ten chapters, he
sheweth the excellent effects and utility of wisdom and justice.
Wisdom Chapter 1
An exhortation to seek God sincerely, who cannot be deceived, and
desireth not our death.
1:1. Love justice, you that are the judges of the earth.  Think of the
Lord in goodness, and seek him in simplicity of heart:
1:2. For he is found by them that tempt him not:  and he sheweth himself
to them that have faith in him.
1:3. For perverse thoughts separate from God:  and his power, when it is
tried, reproveth the unwise:
1:4. For wisdom will not enter into a malicious soul, nor dwell in a
body subject to sins.
1:5. For the Holy Spirit of discipline will flee from the deceitful,
and will withdraw himself from thoughts that are without understanding,
and he shall not abide when iniquity cometh in.
1:6. For the spirit of wisdom is benevolent, and will not acquit the
evil speaker from his lips:  for God is witness of his reins, and he is
a true searcher of his heart, and a hearer of his tongue.
1:7. For the Spirit of the Lord hath filled the whole world:  and that
which containeth all things, hath knowledge of the voice.
1:8. Therefore he that speaketh unjust things, cannot be hid, neither
shall the chastising judgment pass him by.
1:9. For inquisition shall be made into the thoughts of the ungodly,
and the hearing of his words shall come to God, to the chastising of
his iniquities.
1:10. For the ear of jealousy heareth all things, and the tumult of
murmuring shall not be hid.
1:11. Keep yourselves, therefore, from murmuring, which profiteth
nothing, and refrain your tongue from detraction, for an obscure speech
shall not go for nought:  and the mouth that belieth, killeth the soul.
1:12. Seek not death in the error of your life, neither procure ye
destruction by the works of your hands.
1:13. For God made not death, neither hath he pleasure in the
destruction of the living.
1:14. For he created all things that they might be:  and he made the
nations of the earth for health:  and there is no poison of destruction
in them, nor kingdom of hell upon the earth.
1:15. For justice is perpetual and immortal.
1:16. But the wicked with works and words have called it to them:  and
esteeming it a friend, have fallen away and have made a covenant with
it:  because they are worthy to be of the part thereof.
Wisdom Chapter 2
The vain reasonings of the wicked:  their persecuting the just,
especially the Son of God.
2:1. For they have said, reasoning with themselves, but not right:  The
time of our life is short and tedious, and in the end of a man there is
no remedy, and no man hath been known to have returned from hell:
2:2. For we are born of nothing, and after this we shall be as if we
had not been:  for the breath in our nostrils is smoke:  and speech a
spark to move our heart,
2:3. Which being put out, our body shall be ashes, and our spirit shall
be poured abroad as soft air, and our life shall pass away as the trace
of a cloud, and shall be dispersed as a mist, which is driven away by
the beams of the sun, and overpowered with the heat thereof:
2:4. And our name in time shall be forgotten, and no man shall have any
remembrance of our works.
2:5. For our time is as the passing of a shadow, and there is no going
back of our end:  for it is fast sealed, and no man returneth:
2:6. Come, therefore, and let us enjoy the good things that are
present, and let us speedily use the creatures as in youth.
2:7. Let us fill ourselves with costly wine, and ointments:  and let not
the flower of the time pass by us.
2:8. Let us crown ourselves with roses, before they be withered:  let no
meadow escape our riot.
2:9. Let none of us go without his part in luxury:  let us every where
leave tokens of joy:  for this is our portion, and this our lot.
2:10. Let us oppress the poor just man, and not spare the widow, nor
honour the ancient grey hairs of the aged.
2:11. But let our strength be the law of justice:  for that which is
feeble is found to be nothing worth.
2:12. Let us, therefore, lie in wait for the just, because he is not
for our turn, and he is contrary to our doings, and upbraideth us with
transgressions of the law, and divulgeth against us the sins of our way
2:13. He boasteth that he hath the knowledge of God, and calleth
himself the son of God.
2:14. He is become a censurer of our thoughts.
2:15. He is grievous unto us, even to behold:  for his life is not like
other men's, and his ways are very different.
2:16. We are esteemed by him as triflers, and he abstaineth from our
ways as from filthiness, and he preferreth the latter end of the just,
and glorieth that he hath God for his father.
2:17. Let us see then if his words be true, and let us prove what shall
happen to him, and we shall know what his end shall be.
2:18. For if he be the true son of God, he will defend him, and will
deliver him from the hands of his enemies.
2:19. Let us examine him by outrages and tortures, that we may know his
meekness, and try his patience.
2:20. Let us condemn him to a most shameful death:  for there shall be
respect had unto him by his words.
2:21. These things they thought, and were deceived:  for their own
malice blinded them.
2:22. And they knew not the secrets of God, nor hoped for the wages of
justice, nor esteemed the honour of holy souls.
2:23. For God created man incorruptible, and to the image of his own
likeness he made him.
2:24. But by the envy of the devil, death came into the world:
2:25. And they follow him that are of his side.
Wisdom Chapter 3
The happiness of the just:  and the unhappiness of the wicked.
3:1. But the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and the torment
of death shall not touch them.
3:2. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die:  and their departure
was taken for misery:
3:3. And their going away from us, for utter destruction:  but they are
3:4. And though in the sight of men they suffered torments, their hope
is full of immortality.
3:5. Afflicted in few things, in many they shall be well rewarded:
because God hath tried them, and found them worthy of himself.
3:6. As gold in the furnace, he hath proved them, and as a victim of a
holocaust, he hath received them, and in time there shall be respect
had to them.
3:7. The just shall shine, and shall run to and fro like sparks among
3:8. They shall judge nations, and rule over people, and their Lord
shall reign for ever.
3:9. They that trust in him shall understand the truth:  and they that
are faithful in love, shall rest in him:  for grace and peace are to his
3:10. But the wicked shall be punished according to their own devices:
who have neglected the just, and have revolted from the Lord.
3:11. For he that rejecteth wisdom, and discipline, is unhappy:  and
their hope is vain, and their labours without fruit, and their works
unprofitable.
3:12. Their wives are foolish, and their children wicked.
3:13. Their offspring is cursed, for happy is the barren:  and the
undefiled, that hath not known bed in sin, she shall have fruit in the
visitation of holy souls.
3:14. And the eunuch, that hath not wrought iniquity with his hands,
nor thought wicked things against God for the precious gift of faith
shall be given to him, and a most acceptable lot in the temple of God.
3:15. For the fruit of good labours is glorious, and the root of wisdom
never faileth.
3:16. But the children of adulterers shall not come to perfection, and
the seed of the unlawful bed shall be rooted out.
3:17. And if they live long, they shall be nothing regarded, and their
last old age shall be without honour.
3:18. And if they die quickly, they shall have no hope, nor speech of
comfort in the day of trial.
3:19. For dreadful are the ends of a wicked race.
Wisdom Chapter 4
The difference between the chaste and the adulterous generations:  and
between the death of the just and the wicked.
4:1. How beautiful is the chaste generation with glory:  for the memory
thereof is immortal:  because it is known both with God and with men.
4:2. When it is present, they imitate it:  and they desire it, when it
hath withdrawn itself, and it triumpheth crowned for ever, winning the
reward of undefiled conflicts.
4:3. But the multiplied brood of the wicked shall not thrive, and
bastard slips shall not take deep root, nor any fast foundation.
4:4. And if they flourish in branches for a time, yet standing not
fast, they shall be shaken with the wind, and through the force of
winds they shall be rooted out.
4:5. For the branches not being perfect, shall be broken, and their
fruits shall be unprofitable, and sour to eat, and fit for nothing.
4:6. For the children that are born of unlawful beds, are witnesses of
wickedness against their parents in their trial.
4:7. But the just man, if he be prevented with death, shall be in rest.
4:8. For venerable old age is not that of long time, nor counted by the
number of years:  but the understanding of a man is grey hairs.
4:9. And a spotless life is old age.
4:10. He pleased God, and was beloved, and living among sinners, he was
4:11. He was taken away, lest wickedness should alter his
understanding, or deceit beguile his soul.
4:12. For the bewitching of vanity obscureth good things, and the
wandering of concupiscence overturneth the innocent mind.
4:13. Being made perfect in a short space, he fulfilled a long time.
4:14. For his soul pleased God:  therefore he hastened to bring him out
of the midst of iniquities:  but the people see this, and understand
not, nor lay up such things in their hearts:
4:15. That the grace of God, and his mercy is with his saints, and that
he hath respect to his chosen.
4:16. But the just that is dead, condemneth the wicked that are living,
and youth soon ended, the long life of the unjust.
4:17. For they shall see the end of the wise man, and it shall not
understand what God hath designed for him, and why the Lord hath set
him in safety.
4:18. They shall see him, and shall despise him:  but the Lord shall
laugh them to scorn.
4:19. And they shall fall after this without honour, and be a reproach
among the dead for ever:  for he shall burst them puffed up and
speechless, and shall shake them from the foundations, and they shall
be utterly laid waste:  they shall be in sorrow, and their memory shall
4:20. They shall come with fear at the thought of their sins, and their
iniquities shall stand against them to convict them.
Wisdom Chapter 5
The fruitless repentance of the wicked in another world:  the reward of
5:1. Then shall the just stand with great constancy against those that
have afflicted them, and taken away their labours.
5:2. These seeing it, shall be troubled with terrible fear, and shall
be amazed at the suddenness of their unexpected salvation,
5:3. Saying within themselves, repenting, and groaning for anguish of
spirit:  These are they, whom we had sometime in derision, and for a
parable of reproach.
5:4. We fools esteemed their life madness, and their end without
5:5. Behold, how they are numbered among the children of God, and their
lot is among the saints.
5:6. Therefore we have erred from the way of truth, and the light of
justice hath not shined unto us, and the sun of understanding hath not
risen upon us.
5:7. We wearied ourselves in the way of iniquity and destruction, and
have walked through hard ways, but the way of the Lord we have not
5:8. What hath pride profited us?  or what advantage hath the boasting
of riches brought us?
5:9. All those things are passed away like a shadow, and like a post
that runneth on,
5:10. And as a ship, that passeth through the waves:  whereof when it is
gone by, the trace cannot be found.  nor the path of its keel in the
5:11. Or as when a bird flieth through the air, of the passage of which
no mark can be found, but only the sound of the wings beating the light
air, and parting it by the force of her flight:  she moved her wings,
and hath flown through, and there is no mark found afterwards of her
5:12. Or as when an arrow is shot at a mark, the divided air quickly
cometh together again, so that the passage thereof is not known:
5:13. So we also being born, forthwith ceased to be:  and have been able
to shew no mark of virtue:  but are consumed in our wickedness.
5:14. Such things as these the sinners said in hell:
5:15. For the hope of the wicked is as dust, which is blown away with
the wind, and as a thin froth which is dispersed by the storm:  and a
smoke that is scattered abroad by the wind:  and as the remembrance of a
guest of one day that passeth by.
5:16. But the just shall live for evermore:  and their reward is with
the Lord, and the care of them with the most High.
5:17. Therefore shall they receive a kingdom of glory, and a crown of
beauty at the hand of the Lord:  for with his right hand he will cover
them, and with his holy arm he will defend them.
5:18. And his zeal will take armour, and he will arm the creature for
the revenge of his enemies.
5:19. He will put on justice as a breastplate, and will take true
judgment instead of a helmet:
5:20. He will take equity for an invincible shield:
5:21. And he will sharpen his severe wrath for a spear, and the whole
world shall fight with him against the unwise.
5:22. Then shafts of lightning shall go directly from the clouds, as
from a bow well bent, they shall be shot out, and shall fly to the
5:23. And thick hail shall be cast upon them from the stone casting
wrath:  the water of the sea shall rage against them, and the rivers
shall run together in a terrible manner.
5:24. A mighty wind shall stand up against them, and as a whirlwind
shall divide them:  and their iniquity shall bring all the earth to a
desert, and wickedness shall overthrow the thrones of the mighty.
Wisdom Chapter 6
An address to princes to seek after wisdom:  she is easily found by
those that seek her.
6:1. Wisdom is better than strength:  and a wise man is better than a
6:2. Hear, therefore, ye kings, and understand, learn ye that are
judges of the ends of the earth.
6:3. Give ear, you that rule the people, and that please yourselves in
multitudes of nations:
6:4. For power is given you by the Lord, and strength by the most High,
who will examine your works:  and search out your thoughts:
6:6. Because being ministers of his kingdom, you have not judged
rightly, nor kept the law of justice, nor walked according to the will
6:6. Horribly and speedily will he appear to you:  for a most severe
judgment shall be for them that bear rule.
6:7. For to him that is little, mercy is granted:  but the mighty shall
be mightily tormented.
6:8. For God will not except any man's person, neither will he stand in
awe of any man's greatness:  for he made the little and the great, and
he hath equally care of all.
6:9. But a greater punishment is ready for the more mighty.
6:10. To you, therefore, O kings, are these my words, that you may
learn wisdom, and not fall from it.
6:11. For they that have kept just things justly, shall be justified:
and they that have learned these things, shall find what to answer.
6:12. Covet ye, therefore, my words, and love them, and you shall have
instruction.
6:13. Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away, and is easily seen by
them that love her, and is found by them that seek her.
6:14. She preventeth them that covet her, so that she first sheweth
herself unto them.
6:15. He that awaketh early to seek her, shall not labour:  for he shall
find her sitting at his door.
6:16. To think, therefore, upon her, is perfect understanding:  and he
that watcheth for her, shall quickly be secure.
6:17. For she goeth about seeking such as are worthy of her, and she
sheweth herself to them cheerfully in the ways, and meeteth them with
all providence.
6:18. For the beginning of her is the most true desire of discipline.
6:19. And the care of discipline is love:  and love is the keeping of
her laws:  and the keeping of her laws is the firm foundation of
incorruption:
6:20. And incorruption bringeth near to God.
6:21. Therefore the desire of wisdom bringeth to the everlasting
6:22. If then your delight be in thrones, and sceptres, O ye kings of
the people, love wisdom, that you may reign for ever.
6:23. Love the light of wisdom, all ye that bear rule over peoples.
6:24. Now what wisdom is, and what was her origin, I will declare:  and
I will not hide from you the mysteries of God, but will seek her out
from the beginning of her birth, and bring the knowledge of her to
light, and will not pass over the truth:
6:25. Neither will I go with consuming envy:  for such a man shall not
be partaker of wisdom.
6:26. Now the multitude of the wise is the welfare of the whole world:
and a wise king is the upholding of the people.
6:27. Receive, therefore, instruction by my words, and it shall be
profitable to you.
Wisdom Chapter 7
The excellence of wisdom:  how she is to be found.
7:1. I myself am a mortal man, like all others, and of the race of him,
that was first made of the earth, and in the womb of my mother I was
fashioned to be flesh.
7:2. In the time of ten months I was compacted in blood, of the seed of
man, and the pleasure of sleep concurring.
7:3. And being born, I drew in the common air, and fell upon the earth,
that is made alike, and the first voice which I uttered was crying, as
all others do.
7:4. I was nursed in swaddling clothes, and with great cares.
7:5. For none of the kings had any other beginning of birth.
7:6. For all men have one entrance into life, and the like going out.
7:7. Wherefore I wished, and understanding was given me:  and I called
upon God, and the spirit of wisdom came upon me:
7:8. And I preferred her before kingdoms and thrones, and esteemed
riches nothing in comparison of her.
7:9. Neither did I compare unto her any precious stone:  for all gold,
in comparison of her, is as a little sand; and silver, in respect to
her, shall be counted as clay.
7:10. I loved her above health and beauty, and chose to have her
instead of light:  for her light cannot be put out.
7:11. Now all good things came to me together with her, and innumerable
riches through her hands,
7:12. And I rejoiced in all these:  for this wisdom went before me, and
I knew not that she was the mother of them all.
7:13. Which I have learned without guile, and communicate without envy,
and her riches I hide not.
7:14. For she is an infinite treasure to men:  which they that use,
become the friends of God, being commended for the gifts of discipline.
7:15. And God hath given to me to speak as I would, and to conceive
thoughts worthy of those things that are given me:  because he is the
guide of wisdom, and the director of the wise:
7:16. For in his hand are both we, and our words, and all wisdom, and
the knowledge and skill of works.
7:17. For he hath given me the true knowledge of the things that are:
to know the disposition of the whole world, and the virtues of the
7:18. The beginning, and ending, and midst of the times, the
alterations of their courses, and the changes of seasons,
7:19. The revolutions of the year, and the dispositions of the stars,
7:20. The natures of living creatures, and rage of wild beasts, the
force of winds, and reasonings of men, the diversities of plants, and
the virtues of roots,
7:21. And all such things as are hid, and not foreseen, I have learned:
for wisdom, which is the worker of all things, taught me.
7:22. For in her is the spirit of understanding; holy, one, manifold,
subtile, eloquent, active, undefiled, sure, sweet, loving that which is
good, quick, which nothing hindereth, beneficent,
7:23. Gentle, kind, steadfast, assured, secure, having all power,
overseeing all things, and containing all spirits:  intelligible, pure,
7:24. For wisdom is more active than all active things; and reacheth
everywhere, by reason of her purity.
7:25. For she is a vapour of the power of God, and a certain pure
emmanation of the glory of the Almighty God:  and therefore no defiled
thing cometh into her.
7:26. For she is the brightness of eternal light, and the unspotted
mirror of God's majesty, and the image of his goodness.
7:27. And being but one, she can do all things:  and remaining in
herself the same, she reneweth all things, and through nations
conveyeth herself into holy souls, she maketh the friends of God and
7:28. For God loveth none but him that dwelleth with wisdom.
7:29. For she is more beautiful than the sun, and above all the order
of the stars:  being compared with the light, she is found before it.
7:30. For after this cometh night, but no evil can overcome wisdom.
Wisdom Chapter 8
Further praises of wisdom:  and her fruits.
8:1. She reacheth, therefore, from end to end mightily, and ordereth
all things sweetly.
8:2. Her have I loved, and have sought her out from my youth, and have
desired to take for my spouse, and I became a lover of her beauty.
8:3. She glorifieth her nobility by being conversant with God:  yea, and
the Lord of all things hath loved her.
8:4. For it is she that teacheth the knowledge of God and is the
chooser of his works.
8:5. And if riches be desired in life, what is richer than wisdom,
which maketh all things?
8:6. And if sense do work:  who is a more artful worker than she of
those things that are?
8:7. And if a man love justice:  her labours have great virtues:  for she
teacheth temperance, and prudence, and justice, and fortitude, which
are such things as men can have nothing more profitable in life.
8:8. And if a man desire much knowledge:  she knoweth things past, and
judgeth of things to come:  she knoweth the subtilties of speeches, and
the solutions of arguments:  she knoweth signs and wonders before they
be done, and the events of times and ages.
8:9. I purposed, therefore, to take her to me to live with me:  knowing
that she will communicate to me of her good things, and will be a
comfort in my cares and grief.
8:10. For her sake I shall have glory among the multitude, and honour
with the ancients, though I be young:
8:11. And I shall be found of a quick conceit in judgment, and shall be
admired in the sight of the mighty, and the faces of princes shall
wonder at me.
8:12. They shall wait for me when I hold my peace, and they shall look
upon me when I speak; and if I talk much, they shall lay their hands on
their mouth.
8:13. Moreover, by the means of her I shall have immortality:  and shall
leave behind me an everlasting memory to them that come after me.
8:14. I shall set the people in order:  and nations shall be subject to
8:15. Terrible kings hearing, shall be afraid of me:  among the
multitude I shall be found good, and valiant in war.
8:16. When I go into my house, I shall repose myself with her:  for her
conversation hath no bitterness, nor her company any tediousness, but
joy and gladness.
8:17. Thinking these things with myself, and pondering them in my
heart, that to be allied to wisdom is immortality,
8:18. And that there is great delight in her friendship, and
inexhaustible riches in the works of her hands, and in the exercise of
conference with her, wisdom, and glory in the communication of her
words:  I went about seeking, that I might take her to myself.
8:19. And I was a witty child, and had received a good soul.
8:20. And whereas I was more good, I came to a body undefiled.
8:21. And as I knew that I could not otherwise be continent, except God
gave it, and this also was a point of wisdom, to know whose gift it
was, I went to the Lord, and besought him, and said with my whole
Wisdom Chapter 9
Solomon's prayer for wisdom.
9:1. God of my fathers, and Lord of mercy, who hast made all things
with thy word,
9:2. And by thy wisdom hast appointed man, that he should have dominion
over the creature that was made by thee,
9:3. That he should order the world according to equity and justice,
and execute justice with an upright heart:
9:4. Give me wisdom, that sitteth by thy throne, and cast me not off
from among thy children:
9:5. For I am thy servant, and the son of thy handmaid, a weak man, and
of short time, and falling short of the understanding of judgment and
9:6. For if one be perfect among the children of men, yet if thy wisdom
be not with him, he shall be nothing regarded.
9:7. Thou hast chosen me to be king of thy people, and a judge of thy
sons and daughters:
9:8. And hast commanded me to build a temple on thy holy mount, and an
altar in the city of thy dwelling place, a resemblance of thy holy
tabernacle, which thou hast prepared from the beginning:
9:9. And thy wisdom with thee, which knoweth thy works, which then also
was present when thou madest the world, and knew what was agreeable to
thy eyes, and what was right in thy commandments.
9:10. Send her out of thy holy heaven, and from the throne of thy
majesty, that she may be with me, and may labour with me, that I may
know what is acceptable with thee:
9:11. For she knoweth and understandeth all things, and shall lead me
soberly in my works, and shall preserve me by her power.
9:12. So shall my works be acceptable, and I shall govern thy people
justly, and shall be worthy of the throne of my father.
9:13. For who among men is he that can know the counsel of God?  or who
can think what the will of God is?
9:14. For the thoughts of mortal men are fearful, and our counsels
9:15. For the corruptible body is a load upon the soul, and the earthly
habitation presseth down the mind that museth upon many things.
9:16. And hardly do we guess aright at things that are upon earth:  and
with labour do we find the things that are before us.  But the things
that are in heaven, who shall search out?
9:17. And who shall know thy thought, except thou give wisdom, and send
thy holy Spirit from above:
9:18. And so the ways of them that are upon earth may be corrected, and
men may learn the things that please thee?
9:19. For by wisdom they were healed, whosoever have pleased thee, O
Lord, from the beginning.
Wisdom Chapter 10
What wisdom did for Adam, Noe, Abraham, Lot, Jacob, Joseph, and the
people of Israel.
10:1. She preserved him, that was first formed by God, the father of
the world, when he was created alone,
10:2. And she brought him out of his sin, and gave him power to govern
10:3. But when the unjust went away from her in his anger, he perished
by the fury wherewith he murdered his brother.
The unjust. . .Cain.
10:4. For whose cause, when water destroyed the earth, wisdom healed it
again, directing the course of the just by contemptible wood.
For whose cause. . .Viz., for the wickedness of the race of Cain.--Ibid.
The just. . .Noe.
10:5. Moreover, when the nations had conspired together to consent to
wickedness, she knew the just, and preserved him without blame to God,
and kept him strong against the compassion for his son.
She knew the just. . .She found out and approved Abraham.  Ibid.
And kept him strong, etc. . .Gave him strength to stand firm against
the efforts of his natural tenderness, when he was ordered to sacrifice
10:6. She delivered the just man, who fled from the wicked that were
perishing, when the fire came down upon Pentapolis:
The just man. . .Lot.--Ibid.  Pentapolis. . .The land of the five cities,
Sodom, Gomorrha, etc.
10:7. Whose land, for a testimony of their wickedness, is desolate, and
smoketh to this day, and the trees bear fruits that ripen not, and a
standing pillar of salt is a monument of an incredulous soul.
10:8. For regarding not wisdom, they did not only slip in this, that
they were ignorant of good things; but they left also unto men a
memorial of their folly, so that in the things in which they sinned,
they could not so much as lie hid.
10:9. But wisdom hath delivered from sorrow them that attend upon her.
10:10. She conducted the just, when he fled from his brother's wrath,
through the right ways, and shewed him the kingdom of God, and gave him
the knowledge of the holy things, made him honourable in his labours,
and accomplished his labours.
The just. . .Jacob.
10:11. In the deceit of them that overreached him, she stood by him,
and made him honourable.
10:12. She kept him safe from his enemies, and she defended him from
seducers, and gave him a strong conflict, that he might overcome, and
know that wisdom is mightier than all.
Conflict. . .Viz., with the angel.
10:13. She forsook not the just when he was sold, but delivered him
from sinners:  she went down with him into the pit.
The just when he was sold. . .Viz., Joseph.
10:14. And in bands she left him not, till she brought him the sceptre
of the kingdom, and power against those that oppressed him:  and shewed
them to be liars that had accused him, and gave him everlasting glory.
10:15. She delivered the just people, and blameless seed, from the
nations that oppressed them.
10:16. She entered into the soul of the servant of God and stood
against dreadful kings in wonders and signs.
The servant of God. . .Viz., Moses.
10:17. And she rendered to the just the wages of their labours, and
conducted them in a wonderful way:  and she was to them for a covert by
day, and for the light of stars by night:
10:18. And she brought them through the Red Sea, and carried them over
through a great water.
10:19. But their enemies she drowned in the sea, and from the depth of
hell she brought them out.  Therefore the just took the spoils of the
10:20. And they sung to thy holy name, O Lord, and they praised with
one accord thy victorious hand.
10:21. For wisdom opened the mouth of the dumb, and made the tongues of
infants eloquent.
Wisdom Chapter 11
Other benefits of wisdom to the people of God.
11:1. She prospered their works in the hands of the holy prophet.
The holy prophet. . .Moses.
11:2. They went through wildernesses that were not inhabited, and in
desert places they pitched their tents.
11:3. They stood against their enemies, and revenged themselves of
their adversaries.
Their enemies. . .The Amalecites.
11:4. They were thirsty, and they called upon thee, and water was given
them out of the high rock, and a refreshment of their thirst out of the
11:5. For by what things their enemies were punished, when their drink
failed them, while the children of Israel abounded therewith, and
By what things, etc. . .The meaning is, that God, who wrought a miracle
to punish the Egyptians by thirst, when he turned all their waters into
blood, (at which time the Israelites, who were exempt from those
plagues, had plenty of water,) wrought another miracle in favour of his
own people in their thirst, by giving them water out of the rock.
11:6. By the same things they in their need were benefited.
11:7. For instead of a fountain of an ever running river, thou gavest
human blood to the unjust.
11:8. And whilst they were diminished for a manifest reproof of their
murdering the infants, thou gavest to thine abundant water unlooked
11:9. Shewing by the thirst that was then, how thou didst exalt thine,
and didst kill their adversaries.
11:10. For when they were tried, and chastised with mercy, they knew
how the wicked were judged with wrath, and tormented.
11:11. For thou didst admonish and try them as a father:  but the
others, as a severe king, thou didst examine and condemn.
11:12. For whether absent or present, they were tormented alike.
11:13. For a double affliction came upon them, and a groaning for the
remembrance of things past.
11:14. For when they heard that by their punishments the others were
benefited, they remembered the Lord, wondering at the end of what was
come to pass.
By their punishments, etc. . .That is, that the Israelites had been
benefited and miraculously favoured in the same kind, in which they had
been punished.
11:15. For whom they scorned before, when he was thrown out at the time
of his being wickedly exposed to perish, him they admired in the end,
when they saw the event:  their thirsting being unlike to that of the
11:16. But for the foolish devices of their iniquity, because some
being deceived worshipped dumb serpents and worthless beasts, thou
didst send upon them a multitude of dumb beasts for vengeance:
Dumb beasts. . .Viz., frogs, sciniphs, flies, and locusts.
11:17. That they might know that by what things a man sinneth, by the
same also he is tormented.
11:18. For thy almighty hand, which made the world of matter without
form, was not unable to send upon them a multitude of bears, or fierce
11:19. Or unknown beasts of a new kind, full of rage; either breathing
out a fiery vapour, or sending forth a stinking smoke, or shooting
horrible sparks out of their eyes:
11:20. Whereof not only the hurt might be able to destroy them, but
also the very sight might kill them through fear.
11:21. Yea, and without these, they might have been slain with one
blast, persecuted by their own deeds, and scattered by the breath of
thy power:  but thou hast ordered all things in measure, and number, and
11:22. For great power always belonged to thee alone:  and who shall
resist the strength of thy arm?
11:23. For the whole world before thee is as the least grain of the
balance, and as a drop of the morning dew, that falleth down upon tho
11:24. But thou hast mercy upon all, because thou canst do all things,
and overlookest the sins of men for the sake of repentance.
11:25. For thou lovest all things that are, and hatest none of the
things which thou hast made:  for thou didst not appoint, or make any
thing hating it.
11:26. And how could any thing endure, if thou wouldst not?  or be
preserved, if not called by thee?
11:27. But thou sparest all:  because they are thine, O Lord, who lovest
Wisdom Chapter 12
God's wisdom and mercy in his proceedings with the Chanaanites.
12:1. O how good and sweet is thy Spirit, O Lord, in all things!
12:2. And therefore thou chastisest them that err, by little and
little:  and admonishest them, and speakest to them, concerning the
things wherein they offend:  that leaving their wickedness, they may
believe in thee, O Lord.
12:3. For those ancient inhabitants of thy holy land, whom thou didst
12:4. Because they did works hateful to thee by their sorceries, and
wicked sacrifices,
12:5. And those merciless murderers of their own children, and eaters
of men's bowels, and devourers of blood from the midst of thy
consecration,
From the midst of thy consecration. . .Literally, sacrament.  That is,
the land sacred to thee, in which thy temple was to be established, and
man's redemption to be wrought.
12:6. And those parents sacrificing with their own hands helpless
souls, it was thy will to destroy by the hands of our parents,
12:7. That the land which of all is most dear to thee, might receive a
worthy colony of the children of God.
12:8. Yet even those thou sparedst as men, and didst send wasps
forerunners of thy host, to destroy them by little and little.
12:9. Not that thou wast unable to bring the wicked under the just by
war, or by cruel beasts, or with one rough word to destroy them at
12:10. But executing thy judgments by degrees, thou gavest them place
of repentance, not being ignorant that they were a wicked generation,
and their malice natural, and that their thought could never be
12:11. For it was a cursed seed from the beginning:  neither didst thou
for fear of any one give pardon to their sins.
12:12. For who shall say to thee:  What hast thou done?  or who shall
withstand thy judgment?  or who shall come before thee to be a revenger
of wicked men?  or who shall accuse thee, if the nations perish, which
thou hast made ?
12:13. For there is no other God but thou, who hast care of all, that
thou shouldst shew that thou dost not give judgment unjustly.
12:14. Neither shall king, nor tyrant, in thy sight inquire about them
whom thou hast destroyed.
12:15. For so much then, as thou art just, thou orderest all things
justly:  thinking it not agreeable to the power, to condemn him who
deserveth not to be punished.
12:16. For thy power is the beginning of justice:  and because thou art
Lord of all, thou makest thyself gracious to all.
12:17. For thou shewest thy power, when men will not believe thee to be
absolute in power, and thou convincest the boldness of them that know
12:18. But thou being master of power, judgest with tranquillity, and
with great favour disposest of us:  for thy power is at hand when thou
12:19. But thou hast taught thy people by such works, that they must be
just and humane, and hast made thy children to be of a good hope:
because in judging, thou givest place for repentance for sins.
12:20. For if thou didst punish the enemies of thy servants, and that
deserved to die, with so great deliberation, giving them time and place
whereby they might be changed from their wickedness:
12:21. With what circumspection hast thou judged thy own children, to
whose parents thou hast sworn, and made covenants of good promises?
12:22. Therefore whereas thou chastisest us, thou scourgest our enemies
very many ways, to the end that when we judge we may think on thy
goodness:  and when we are judged, we may hope for thy mercy.
12:23. Wherefore thou hast also greatly tormented them, who, in their
life, have lived foolishly and unjustly, by the same things which they
12:24. For they went astray for a long time in the ways of error,
holding those things for gods which are the most worthless among
beasts, living after the manner of children without understanding.
12:25. Therefore thou hast sent a judgment upon them, as senseless
children, to mock them.
12:26. But they that were not amended by mockeries and reprehensions,
experienced the worthy judgment of God.
12:27. For seeing, with indignation, that they suffered by those very
things which they took for gods, when they were destroyed by the same,
they acknowledged him the true God, whom in time past they denied that
they knew:  for which cause the end also of their condemnation came upon
Wisdom Chapter 13
Idolaters are inexcusable:  and those most of all that worship for gods
the works of the hands of men.
13:1. But all men are vain, in whom there is not the knowledge of God:
and who by these good things that are seen, could not understand him
that is, neither by attending to the works have acknowledged who was
the workman:
13:2. But have imagined either the fire, or the wind, or the swift air,
or the circle of the stars, or the great water, or the sun and moon, to
be the gods that rule the world.
13:3. With whose beauty, if they, being delighted, took them to be
gods:  let them know how much the Lord of them is more beautiful than
they:  for the first author of beauty made all those things.
13:4. Or if they admired their power, and their effects, let them
understand by them, that he that made them, is mightier than they:
13:5. For by the greatness of the beauty, and of the creature, the
creator of them may be seen, so as to be known thereby.
13:6. But yet as to these they are less to be blamed.  For they perhaps
err, seeking God, and desirous to find him.
13:7. For being conversant among his works, they search:  and they are
persuaded that the things are good which are seen.
13:8. But then again they are not to be pardoned.
13:9. For if they were able to know so much as to make a judgment of
the world:  how did they not more easily find out the Lord thereof?
13:10. But unhappy are they, and their hope is among the dead, who have
called gods the works of the hand of men, gold and silver, the
inventions of art, and the resemblances of beasts, or an unprofitable
stone the work of an ancient hand.
13:11. Or if an artist, a carpenter, hath cut down a tree proper for
his use in the wood, and skilfully taken off all the bark thereof, and
with his art, diligently formeth a vessel profitable for the common
uses of life,
13:12. And useth the chips of his work to dress his meat:
13:13. And taking what was left thereof, which is good for nothing,
being a crooked piece of wood, and full of knots, carveth it diligently
when he hath nothing else to do, and by the skill of his art fashioneth
it, and maketh it like the image of a man:
13:14. Or the resemblance of some beast, laying it over with vermilion,
and painting it red, and covering every spot that is in it:
13:15. And maketh a convenient dwelling place for it, and setting it in
a wall, and fastening it with iron,
13:16. Providing for it, lest it should fall, knowing that it is unable
to help itself:  for it is an image, and hath need of help.
13:17. And then maketh prayer to it, enquiring concerning his
substance, and his children, or his marriage.  And he is not ashamed to
speak to that which hath no life:
13:18. And for health he maketh supplication to the weak, and for life
prayeth to that which is dead, and for help calleth upon that which is
unprofitable:
13:19. And for a good journey he petitioneth him that cannot walk:  and
for getting, and for working, and for the event of all things he asketh
him that is unable to do any thing.
Wisdom Chapter 14
The beginning of worshipping idols:  and the effects thereof.
14:1. Again, another designing to sail, and beginning to make his
voyage through the raging waves, calleth upon a piece of wood more
frail than the wood that carrieth him.
14:2. For this the desire of gain devised, and the workman built it by
14:3. But thy providence, O Father, governeth it:  for thou hast made a
way even in the sea, and a most sure path among the waves,
14:4. Shewing that thou art able to save out of all things, yea, though
a man went to sea without art.
14:5. But that the works of thy wisdom might not be idle:  therefore men
also trust their lives even to a little wood, and passing over the sea
by ship, are saved.
14:6. And from the beginning also, when the proud giants perished, the
hope of the world fleeing to a vessel, which was governed by thy hand,
left to the world seed of generation.
14:7. For blessed is the wood, by which justice cometh
14:8. But the idol that is made by hands, is cursed, as well it, as he
that made it:  he because he made it; and it because being frail it is
called a god.
14:9. But to God the wicked and his wickedness are hateful alike.
14:10. For that which is made, together with him that made it, shall
suffer torments.
14:11. Therefore there shall be no respect had even to the idols of the
Gentiles:  because the creatures of God are turned to an abomination,
and a temptation to the souls of men, and a snare to the feet of the
14:12. For the beginning of fornication is the devising of idols:  and
the invention of them is the corruption of life.
14:13. For neither were they from the beginning, neither shall they be
14:14. For by the vanity of men they came into the world:  and therefore
they shall be found to come shortly to an end.
14:15. For a father being afflicted with bitter grief, made to himself
the image of his son, who was quickly taken away:  and him who then had
died as a man, he began now to worship as a god, and appointed him
rites and sacrifices among his servants.
14:16. Then, in process of time, wicked custom prevailing, this error
was kept as a law, and statues were worshipped by the commandment of
14:17. And those whom men could not honour in presence, because they
dwelt far off, they brought their resemblance from afar, and made an
express image of the king, whom they had a mind to honour:  that by this
their diligence, they might honour as present, him that was absent.
14:18. And to the worshipping of these, the singular diligence also of
the artificer helped to set forward the ignorant.
14:19. For he being willing to please him that employed him, laboured
with all his art to make the resemblance in the best manner.
14:20. And the multitude of men, carried away by the beauty of the
work, took him now for a god, that little before was but honoured as a
14:21. And this was the occasion of deceiving human life:  for men
serving either their affection, or their kings, gave the incommunicable
name to stones and wood.
14:22. And it was not enough for them to err about the knowledge of
God, but whereas they lived in a great war of ignorance, they call so
many and so great evils peace.
14:23. For either they sacrifice their own children, or use hidden
sacrifices, or keep watches full of madness,
14:24. So that now they neither keep life, nor marriage undefiled, but
one killeth another through envy, or grieveth him by adultery:
14:25. And all things are mingled together, blood, murder, theft, and
dissimulation, corruption and unfaithfulness, tumults and perjury,
disquieting of the good,
14:26. Forgetfulness of God, defiling of souls, changing of nature,
disorder in marriage, and the irregularity of adultery and uncleanness.
14:27. For the worship of abominable idols is the cause, and the
beginning and end of all evil.
14:28. For either they are mad when they are merry:  or they prophesy
lies, or they live unjustly, or easily forswear themselves.
14:29. For whilst they trust in idols, which are without life, though
they swear amiss, they look not to be hurt.
14:30. But for both these things they shall be justly punished, because
they have thought not well of God, giving heed to idols, and have sworn
unjustly, in guile despising justice.
14:31. For it is not the power of them, by whom they swear, but the
just vengeance of sinners always punisheth the transgression of the
Wisdom Chapter 15
The servants of God praise him who hath delivered them from idolatry;
condemning both the makers and the worshippers of idols.
15:1. But thou, our God, art gracious and true, patient, and ordering
all things in mercy.
15:2. For if we sin, we are thine, knowing thy greatness:  and if we sin
not, we know that we are counted with thee.
15:3. For to know thee is perfect justice:  and to know thy justice, and
thy power, is the root of immortality.
15:4. For the invention of mischievous men hath not deceived us, nor
the shadow of a picture, a fruitless labour, a graven figure with
divers colours,
15:5. The sight whereof enticeth the fool to lust after it, and he
loveth the lifeless figure of a dead image.
15:6. The lovers of evil things deserve to have no better things to
trust in, both they that make them, and they that love them, and they
that worship them.
15:7. The potter also tempering soft earth, with labour fashioneth
every vessel for our service, and of the same clay he maketh both
vessels that are for clean uses, and likewise such as serve to the
contrary:  but what is the use of these vessels, the potter is the
15:8. And of the same clay by a vain labour he maketh a god:  he who a
little before was made of earth himself, and a little after returneth
to the same out of which he was taken, when his life, which was lent
him, shall be called for again.
15:9. But his care is, not that he shall labour, nor that his life is
short, but he striveth with the goldsmiths and silversmiths:  and he
endeavoureth to do like the workers in brass, and counteth it a glory
to make vain things.
15:10. For his heart is ashes, and his hope vain earth and his life
more base than clay:
15:11. Forasmuch as he knew not his maker, and him that inspired into
him the soul that worketh, and that breathed into him a living spirit.
15:12. Yea, and they have counted our life a pastime and the business
of life to be gain, and that we must be getting every way, even out of
15:13. For that man knoweth that he offendeth above all others, who of
earthly matter maketh brittle vessels, and graven gods.
15:14. But all the enemies of thy people that hold them in subjection,
are foolish, and unhappy, and proud beyond measure:
15:15. For they have esteemed all the idols of the heathens for gods,
which neither have the use of eyes to see, nor noses to draw breath,
nor ears to hear, nor fingers of hands to handle, and as for their
feet, they are slow to walk.
15:16. For man made them:  and he that borroweth his own breath,
fashioned them.  For no man can make a god like to himself.
15:17. For being mortal himself, he formeth a dead thing with his
wicked hands.  For he is better than they whom he worshippeth, because
he indeed hath lived, though he were mortal, but they never.
15:18. Moreover, they worship also the vilest creatures:  but things
without sense, compared to these, are worse than they.
15:19. Yea, neither by sight can any man see good of these beasts.  But
they have fled from the praise of God, and from his blessing.
Wisdom Chapter 16
God's different dealings with the Egyptians and with his own people.
16:1. For these things, and by the like things to these, they were
worthily punished, and were destroyed by a multitude of beasts.
16:2. Instead of which punishment, dealing well with thy people, thou
gavest them their desire of delicious food, of a new taste, preparing
for them quails for their meat:
16:3. To the end, that they indeed desiring food, by means of those
things that were shewn and sent among them, might loath even that which
was necessary to satisfy their desire.  But these, after suffering want
for a short time, tasted a new meat.
They indeed desiring food, etc. . .He means the Egyptians; who were
restrained even from that food which was necessary, by the frogs and
the flies that were sent amongst them, and spoiled all their
meats.--Ibid.  But these. . .Viz., the Israelites.
16:4. For it was requisite that inevitable destruction should come upon
them that exercised tyranny:  but to these it should only be shewn how
their enemies were destroyed.
16:5. For when the fierce rage of beasts came upon these, they were
destroyed by the bitings of crooked serpents.
16:6. But thy wrath endured not for ever, but they were troubled for a
short time for their correction, having a sign of salvation, to put
them in remembrance of the commandment of thy law.
Sign of salvation. . .The brazen serpent, an emblem of Christ our
16:7. For he that turned to it, was not healed by that which he saw,
but by thee, the Saviour of all.
16:8. And in this thou didst shew to our enemies, that thou art he who
deliverest from all evil.
16:9. For the bitings of locusts, and of flies, killed them, and there
was found no remedy for their life:  because they were worthy to be
destroyed by such things.
16:10. But not even the teeth of venomous serpents overcame thy
children:  for thy mercy came and healed them.
16:11. For they were examined for the remembrance of thy words, and
were quickly healed, lest falling into deep forgetfulness, they might
not be able to use thy help.
16:12. For it was neither herb, nor mollifying plaster, that healed
them, but thy word, O Lord, which healeth all things.
16:13. For it is thou, O Lord, that hast power of life and death, and
leadest down to the gates of death, and bringest back again:
16:14. A man indeed killeth through malice, and when the spirit is gone
forth, it shall not return, neither shall he call back the soul that is
16:15. But it is impossible to escape thy hand:
16:16. For the wicked that denied to know thee, were scourged by the
strength of thy arm, being persecuted by strange waters, and hail, and
rain, and consumed by fire.
16:17. And which was wonderful, in water, which extinguisheth all
things, the fire had more force:  for the world fighteth for the just.
The fire had more force. . .Viz., when the fire and hail mingled
together laid waste the land of Egypt.  Ex. 9.
16:18. For at one time the fire was mitigated, that the beasts which
were sent against the wicked might not be burnt, but that they might
see, and perceive that they were persecuted by the judgment of God.
16:19. And at another time the fire, above its own power, burnt in the
midst of water, to destroy the fruits of a wicked land.
16:20. Instead of which things, thou didst feed thy people with the
food of angels, and gavest them bread from heaven, prepared without
labour; having in it all that is delicious, and the sweetness of every
16:21. For thy sustenance shewed thy sweetness to thy children, and
serving every man's will, it was turned to what every man liked.
16:22. But snow and ice endured the force of fire, and melted not:  that
they might know that the fire, burning in the hail, and flashing in the
rain, destroyed the fruits of the enemies.
16:23. But this same again, that the just might be nourished, did even
forget its own strength.
16:24. For the creature serving thee, the Creator, is made fierce
against the unjust for their punishment:  and abateth its strength for
the benefit of them that trust in thee.
16:25. Therefore even then it was transformed into all things, and was
obedient to thy grace, that nourisheth all, according to the will of
them that desired it of thee:
16:26. That thy children, O Lord, whom thou lovedst, might know that it
is not the growing of fruits that nourisheth men, but thy word
preserveth them that believe in thee.
16:27. For that which could not be destroyed by fire, being warmed with
a little sunbeam, presently melted away:
16:28. That it might be known to all, that we ought to prevent the sun
to bless thee, and adore thee at the dawning of the light.
16:29. For the hope of the unthankful shall melt away as the winter's
ice, and shall run off as unprofitable water.
Wisdom Chapter 17
The Egyptian darkness.
17:1. For thy judgments, O Lord, are great, and thy words cannot be
expressed:  therefore undisciplined souls have erred.
17:2. For while the wicked thought to be able to have dominion over the
holy nation, they themselves being fettered with the bonds of darkness,
and a long night, shut up in their houses, lay there exiled from the
eternal providence.
17:3. And while they thought to lie hid in their obscure sins, they
were scattered under a dark veil of forgetfullness, being horribly
afraid, and troubled with exceeding great astonishment.
17:4. For neither did the den that held them, keep them from fear:  for
noises coming down troubled them, and sad visions appearing to them,
affrighted them.
17:5. And no power of fire could give them light, neither could the
bright flames of the stars enlighten that horrible night.
17:6. But there appeared to them a sudden fire, very dreadful:  and
being struck with the fear of that face, which was not seen, they
thought the things which they saw to be worse:
17:7. And the delusions of their magic art were put down, and their
boasting of wisdom was reproachfully rebuked.
17:8. For they who promised to drive away fears and troubles from a
sick soul, were sick themselves of a fear worthy to be laughed at.
17:9. For though no terrible thing disturbed them:  yet being scared
with the passing by of beasts, and hissing of serpents, they died for
fear and denying that they saw the air, which could by no means be
17:10. For whereas wickedness is fearful, it beareth witness of its
condemnation:  for a troubled conscience always forecasteth grievous
17:11. For fear is nothing else but a yielding up of the succours from
17:12. And while there is less expectation from within, the greater
doth it count the ignorance of that cause which bringeth the torment.
17:13. But they that during that night, in which nothing could be done,
and which came upon them from the lowest and deepest hell, slept the
17:14. Were sometimes molested with the fear of monsters, sometimes
fainted away, their soul failing them:  for a sudden and unlooked for
fear was come upon them.
17:15. Moreover, if any of them had fallen down, he was kept shut up in
prison without irons.
17:16. For if any one were a husbandman, or a shepherd, or a labourer
in the field, and was suddenly overtaken, he endured a necessity from
which he could not fly.
17:17. For they were all bound together with one chain of darkness.
Whether it were a whistling wind, or the melodious voice of birds,
among the spreading branches of trees, or a fall of water running down
with violence,
17:18. Or the mighty noise of stones tumbling down, or the running that
could not be seen of beasts playing together, or the roaring voice of
wild beasts, or a rebounding echo from the highest mountains:  these
things made them to swoon for fear.
17:19. For the whole world was enlightened, with a clear light, and
none were hindered in their labours.
17:20. But over them only was spread a heavy night, an image of that
darkness which was to come upon them.  But they were to themselves more
grievous than the darkness.
Wisdom Chapter 18
The slaughter of the firstborn in Egypt:  the efficacy of Aaron's
intercession, in the sedition on occasion of Core.
18:1. But thy saints had a very great light, and they heard their voice
indeed, but did not see their shape.  And because they also did not
suffer the same things, they glorified thee:
18:2. And they that before had been wronged, gave thanks, because they
were not hurt now:  and asked this gift, that there might be a
18:3. Therefore they received a burning pillar of fire for a guide of
the way which they knew not, and thou gavest them a harmless sun of a
good entertainment.
A harmless sun. . .A light that should not hurt or molest them; but that
should be an agreeable guest to them.
18:4. The others indeed were worthy to be deprived of light, and
imprisoned in darkness, who kept thy children shut up, by whom the pure
light of the law was to be given to the world.
18:5. And whereas they thought to kill the babes of the just:  one child
being cast forth, and saved to reprove them, thou tookest away a
multitude of their children, and destroyedst them altogether in a
mighty water.
One child. . .Viz., Moses.
18:6. For that night was known before by our fathers, that assuredly
knowing what oaths they had trusted to, they might be of better
18:7. So thy people received the salvation of the just, and destruction
of the unjust.
18:8. For as thou didst punish the adversaries so thou didst also
encourage and glorify us.
18:9. For the just children of good men were offering sacrifice
secretly, and they unanimously ordered a law of justice:  that the just
should receive both good and evil alike, singing now the praises of the
Of good men. . .Viz., of the patriarchs.  Their children, the Israelites,
offered in private the sacrifice of the paschal lamb; and were
regulating what they were to do in their journey, when that last and
most dreadful plague was coming upon their enemies.
18:10. But on the other side there sounded an ill according cry of the
enemies, and a lamentable mourning was heard for the children that were
18:11. And the servant suffered the same punishment as the master, and
a common man suffered in like manner as the king.
18:12. So all alike had innumerable dead, with one kind of death.
Neither were the living sufficient to bury them:  for in one moment the
noblest offspring of them was destroyed.
The noblest offspring. . .That is, the firstborn.
18:13. For whereas they would not believe any thing before by reason of
the enchantments, then first upon the destruction of the firstborn,
they acknowledged the people to be of God.
18:14. For while all things were in quiet silence, and the night was in
the midst of her course,
18:15. Thy Almighty word leaped down from heaven from thy royal throne,
as a fierce conqueror into the midst of the land of destruction,
18:16. With a sharp sword carrying thy unfeigned commandment, and he
stood and filled all things with death, and standing on the earth,
reached even to heaven.
18:17. Then suddenly visions of evil dreams troubled them, and fears
unlooked for came upon them.
18:18. And one thrown here, another there, half dead, shewed the cause
of his death.
18:19. For the visions that troubled them foreshewed these things, lest
they should perish, and not know why they suffered these evils.
18:20. But the just also were afterwards touched by an assault of
death, and there was a disturbance of the multitude in the wilderness:
but thy wrath did not long continue;
18:21. For a blameless man made haste to pry for the people, bringing
forth the shield of his ministry, prayer, and by incense making
supplication, withstood the wrath, and put an end to the calamity,
shewing that he was thy servant.
18:22. And he overcame the disturbance, not by strength of body nor
with force of arms, but with a word he subdued him that punished them,
alleging the oath and covenant made with the fathers.
18:23. For when they were now fallen down dead by heaps one upon
another, he stood between and stayed the assault, and cut off the way
to the living.
18:24. For in the priestly robe which he wore, was the whole world:  and
in the four rows of the stones, the glory of the fathers was graven,
and thy majesty was written upon the diadem of his head.
18:26. And to these the destroyer gave place, and was afraid of them:
for the proof only of wrath was enough.
Wisdom Chapter 19
Why God shewed no mercy to the Egyptians.  His favour to the Israelites.
All creatures obey God's orders for the service of the good, and the
punishment of the wicked.
19:1. But as to the wicked, even to the end there came upon them wrath
without mercy.  For he knew before also what they would do:
19:2. For when they had given them leave to depart and had sent them
away with great care, they repented and pursued after them.
19:3. For whilst they were yet mourning, and lamenting at the graves of
the dead, they took up another foolish device:  and pursued them as
fugitives whom they had pressed to be gone:
19:4. For a necessity, of which they were worthy, brought them to this
end:  and they lost the remembrance of those things which had happened,
that their punishment might fill up what was wanting to their torments:
19:5. And that thy people might wonderfully pass through, but they
might find a new death.
19:6. For every creature, according to its kind was fashioned again as
from the beginning, obeying thy commandments, that thy children might
be kept without hurt.
19:7. For a cloud overshadowed their camps and where water was before,
dry land appeared, and in the Red Sea a way without hindrance, and out
of the great deep a springing field:
19:8. Through which all the nation passed which was protected with thy
hand, seeing thy miracles and wonders.
19:9. For they fed on their food like horses, and they skipped like
lambs, praising thee, O Lord, who hadst delivered them.
19:10. For they were yet mindful of those things which had been done in
the time of their sojourning, how the ground brought forth flies
instead of cattle, and how the river cast up a multitude of frogs
instead of fishes.
19:11. And at length they saw a new generation of birds, when being led
by their appetite, they asked for delicate meats.
19:12. For to satisfy their desire, the quail came up to them from the
sea:  and punishments came upon the sinners, not without foregoing signs
by the force of thunders:  for they suffered justly according to their
own wickedness.
19:13. For they exercised a more detestable inhospitality than any:
others indeed received not strangers unknown to them, but these brought
their guests into bondage that had deserved well of them.
19:14. And not only so, but in another respect also they were worse:
for the others against their will received the strangers.
19:15. But these grievously afflicted them whom they had received with
joy, and who lived under the same laws.
19:16. But they were struck with blindness:  as those others were at the
doors of the just man, when they were covered with sudden darkness, and
every one sought the passage of his own door.
19:17. For while the elements are changed in themselves, as in an
instrument the sound of the quality is changed, yet all keep their
sound:  which may clearly be perceived by the very sight.
Elements are changed, etc. . .The meaning is, that whatever changes God
wrought in the elements by miracles in favour of his people, they still
kept their harmony by obeying his will.
19:18. For the things of the land were turned into things of the water:
and the things that before swam in the water passed upon the land.
19:19. The fire had power in water above its own virtue, and the water
forgot its quenching nature.
19:20. On the other side, the flames wasted not the flesh of
corruptible animals walking therein, neither did they melt that good
food, which was apt to melt as ice.  For in all things thou didst
magnify thy people, O Lord, and didst honour them, and didst not
despise them, but didst assist them at all times, and in every place.
That good food. . .The manna.
ECCLESIASTICUS
This Book is so called from a Greek word that signifies a preacher:
because, like an excellent preacher, it gives admirable lessons of all
virtues.  The author was Jesus the son of Sirach of Jerusalem, who
flourished about two hundred years before Christ.  As it was written
after the time of Esdras, it is not in the Jewish canon; but is
received as canonical and divine by the Catholic Church, instructed by
apostolical tradition, and directed by the spirit of God.  It was first
written in the Hebrew, but afterwards translated into Greek, by another
Jesus, the grandson of the author, whose prologue to this book is the
THE PROLOGUE.
The knowledge of many and great things hath been shewn us by the law,
and the prophets, and others that have followed them:  for which things
Israel is to be commended for doctrine and wisdom, because not only
they that speak must needs be skilful, but strangers also, both
speaking and writing, may by their means become most learned.  My
grandfather Jesus, after he had much given himself to a diligent
reading of the law, and the prophets, and other books, that were
delivered to us from our fathers, had a mind also to write something
himself, pertaining to doctrine and wisdom; that such as are desirous
to learn, and are made knowing in these things, may be more and more
attentive in mind, and be strengthened to live according to the law.  I
entreat you therefore to come with benevolence, and to read with
attention, and to pardon us for those things wherein we may seem, while
we follow the image of wisdom, to come short in the composition of
words; for the Hebrew words have not the same force in them when
translated into another tongue.  And not only these, but the law also
itself, and the prophets, and the rest of the books, have no small
difference, when they are spoken in their own language.  For in the
eight and thirtieth year coming into Egypt, when Ptolemy Evergetes was
king, and continuing there a long time, I found there books left, of no
small nor contemptible learning.  Therefore I thought it good, and
necessary for me to bestow some diligence and labour to interpret this
book; and with much watching and study in some space of time, I brought
the book to an end, and set it forth for the service of them that are
willing to apply their mind, and to learn how they ought to conduct
themselves, who purpose to lead their life according to the law of the
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 1
All wisdom is from God, and is given to them that fear and love God.
1:1. All wisdom is from the Lord God, and hath been always with him,
and is before all time.
1:2. Who hath numbered the sand of the sea, and the drops of rain, and
the days of the world?  Who hath measured the height of heaven, and the
breadth of the earth, and the depth of the abyss?
1:3. Who hath searched out the wisdom of God that goeth before all
1:4. Wisdom hath been created before all things, and the understanding
of prudence from everlasting.
1:5. The word of God on high is the fountain of wisdom, and her ways
are everlasting commandments.
1:6. To whom hath the root of wisdom been revealed, and who hath known
her wise counsels?
1:7. To whom hath the discipline of wisdom been revealed and made
manifest?  and who hath understood the multiplicity of her steps?
1:8. There is one most high Creator Almighty, and a powerful king, and
greatly to be feared, who sitteth upon his throne, and is the God of
1:9. He created her in the Holy Ghost, and saw her, and numbered her,
and measured her.
1:10. And he poured her out upon all his works, and upon all flesh
according to his gift, and hath given her to them that love him.
1:11. The fear of the Lord is honour, and glory, and gladness, and a
crown of joy.
1:12. The fear of the Lord shall delight the heart, and shall give joy,
and gladness, and length of days.
1:13. With him that feareth the Lord, it shall go well in the latter
end, and in the day of his death he shall be blessed.
1:14. The love of God is honourable wisdom.
1:15. And they to whom she shall shew herself love her by the sight,
and by the knowledge of her great works.
1:16. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and was created
with the faithful in the womb, it walketh with chosen women, and is
known with the just and faithful.
1:17. The fear of the Lord is the religiousness of knowledge.
1:18. Religiousness shall keep and justify the heart, it shall give joy
and gladness.
1:19. It shall go well with him that feareth the Lord, and in the days
of his end he shall be blessed.
1:20. To fear God is the fulness of wisdom, and fulness is from the
fruits thereof.
1:21. She shall fill all her house with her increase, and the
storehouses with her treasures.
1:22. The fear of the Lord is a crown of wisdom, filling up peace and
the fruit of salvation:
1:23. And it hath seen, and numbered her:  but both are the gifts of
1:24. Wisdom shall distribute knowledge, and understanding of prudence:
and exalteth the glory of them that hold her.
1:25. The root of wisdom is to fear the Lord:  and the branches thereof
are long-lived.
1:26. In the treasures of wisdom is understanding, and religiousness of
knowledge:  but to sinners wisdom is an abomination.
1:27. The fear of the Lord driveth out sin:
1:28. For he that is without fear, cannot be justified:  for the wrath
of his high spirits is his ruin.
1:29. A patient man shall bear for a time, and afterwards joy shall be
restored to him.
1:30. A good understanding will hide his words for a time, and the lips
of many shall declare his wisdom.
1:31. In the treasures of wisdom is the signification of discipline:
1:32. But the worship of God is an abomination to a sinner.
1:33. Son, if thou desire wisdom, keep justice, and God will give her
1:34. For the fear of the Lord is wisdom and discipline:  and that which
is agreeable to him,
1:35. Is faith, and meekness:  and he will fill up his treasures.
1:36. Be not incredulous to the fear of the Lord:  and come not to him
with a double heart.
1:37. Be not a hypocrite in the sight of men, and let not thy lips be a
stumblingblock to thee.
1:38. Watch over them, lest thou fall, and bring dishonour upon thy
1:39. And God discover thy secrets, and cast thee down in the midst of
the congregation.
1:40. Because thou camest to the Lord wickedly, and thy heart is full
of guile and deceit.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 2
God's servants must look for temptations:  and must arm themselves with
patience and confidence in God.
2:1. Son, when thou comest to the service of God, stand in justice and
in fear, and prepare thy soul for temptation.
2:2. Humble thy heart, and endure:  incline thy ear, and receive the
words of understanding:  and make not haste in the time of clouds.
2:3. Wait on God with patience:  join thyself to God, and endure, that
thy life may be increased in the latter end.
2:4. Take all that shall be brought upon thee:  and in thy sorrow
endure, and in thy humiliation keep patience.
2:5. For gold and silver are tried in the fire, but acceptable men in
the furnace of humiliation.
2:6. Believe God, and he will recover thee:  and direct thy way, and
trust in him.  Keep his fear, and grow old therein.
2:7. Ye that fear the Lord, wait for his mercy:  and go not aside from
him lest ye fall.
2:8. Ye that fear the Lord, believe him:  and your reward shall not be
2:9. Ye that fear the Lord hope in him, and mercy shall come to you for
your delight.
2:10. Ye that fear the Lord, love him, and your hearts shall be
enlightened.
2:11. My children behold the generations of men:  and know ye that no
one hath hoped in the Lord, and hath been confounded.
2:12. For who hath continued in his commandment, and hath been
forsaken?  or who hath called upon him, and he despised him?
2:13. For God is compassionate and merciful, and will forgive sins in
the day of tribulation:  and he is a protector to all that seek him in
2:14. Woe to them that are of a double heart and to wicked lips, and to
the hands that do evil, and to the sinner that goeth on the earth two
2:15. Woe to them that are fainthearted, who believe not God:  and
therefore they shall not be protected by him.
2:16. Woe to them that have lost patience, and that have forsaken the
right ways, and have gone aside into crooked ways.
2:17. And what will they do, when the Lord shall begin to examine?
2:18. They that fear the Lord, will not be incredulous to his word:  and
they that love him, will keep his way.
2:19. They that fear the Lord, will seek after the things that are well
pleasing to him:  and they that love him, shall be filled with his law.
2:20. They that fear the Lord, will prepare their hearts, and in his
sight will sanctify their souls,
2:21. They that fear the Lord, keep his commandments, and will have
patience even until his visitation,
2:22. Saying:  If we do not penance, we shall fall into the hands of the
Lord, and not into the hands of men.
2:23. For according to his greatness, so also is his mercy with him.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 3
Lessons concerning the honour of parents, and humility, and avoiding
3:1. The sons of wisdom are the church of the just:  and their
generation, obedience and love.
3:2. Children, hear the judgment of your father, and so do that you may
3:3. For God hath made the father honourable to the children:  and
seeking the judgment of the mothers, hath confirmed it upon the
3:4. He that loveth God, shall obtain pardon for his sins by prayer,
and shall refrain himself from them, and shall be heard in the prayer
3:5. And he that honoureth his mother is as one that layeth up a
3:6. He that honoureth his father shall have joy in his own children,
and in the day of his prayer he shall be heard.
3:7. He that honoureth his father shall enjoy a long life:  and he that
obeyeth the father, shall be a comfort to his mother.
3:8. He that feareth the Lord, honoureth his parents, and will serve
them as his masters that brought him into the world.
3:9. Honour thy father, in work and word, and all patience,
3:10. That a blessing may come upon thee from him, and his blessing may
remain in the latter end.
3:11. The father's blessing establisheth the houses of the children:
but the mother's curse rooteth up the foundation.
3:12. Glory not in the dishonour of thy father:  for his shame is no
glory to thee.
3:13. For the glory of a man is from the honour of his father, and a
father without honour is the disgrace of the son.
3:14. Son, support the old age of thy father, and grieve him not in his
3:15. And if his understanding fail, have patience with him, and
despise him not when thou art in thy strength:  for the relieving of the
father shall not be forgotten.
3:16. For good shall be repaid to thee for the sin of thy mother.
3:17. And in justice thou shalt be built up, and in the day of
affliction thou shalt be remembered:  and thy sins shall melt away as
the ice in the fair warm weather.
3:18. Of what an evil fame is he that forsaketh his father:  and he is
cursed of God that angereth his mother.
3:19. My son, do thy works in meekness, and thou shalt be beloved above
the glory of men.
3:20. The greater thou art, the more humble thyself in all things, and
thou shalt find grace before God:
3:21. For great is the power of God alone, and he is honoured by the
3:22. Seek not the things that are too high for thee, and search not
into things above thy ability:  but the things that God hath commanded
thee, think on them always, and in many of his works be not curious.
3:23. For it is not necessary for thee to see with thy eyes those
things that are hid.
3:24. In unnecessary matters be not over curious, and in many of his
works thou shalt not be inquisitive.
3:25. For many things are shewn to thee above the understanding of men.
3:26. And the suspicion of them hath deceived many, and hath detained
their minds in vanity.
3:27. A hard heart shall fear evil at the last:  and he that loveth
danger shall perish in it.
3:28. A heart that goeth two ways shall not have success, and the
perverse of heart shall be scandalized therein.
3:29. A wicked heart shall be laden with sorrows, and the sinner will
add sin to sin.
3:30. The congregation of the proud shall not be healed:  for the plant
of wickedness shall take root in them, and it shall not be perceived.
3:31. The heart of the wise is understood in wisdom, and a good ear
will hear wisdom with all desire.
3:32. A wise heart, and which hath understanding, will abstain from
sins, and in the works of justice shall have success.
3:33. Water quencheth a flaming fire, and alms resisteth sins:
3:34. And God provideth for him that sheweth favour:  he remembereth him
afterwards, and in the time of his fall he shall find a sure stay.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 4
An exhortation to works of mercy, and to the love of wisdom.
4:1. Son, defraud not the poor of alms, and turn not away thy eyes from
4:2. Despise not the hungry soul:  and provoke not the poor in his want.
4:3. Afflict not the heart of the needy, and defer not to gibe to him
that is in distress.
4:4. Reject not the petition of the afflicted:  and turn not away thy
face from the needy.
4:5. Turn not away thy eyes from the poor for fear of anger:  and leave
not to them that ask of thee to curse thee behind thy back.
4:6. For the prayer of him that curseth thee in the bitterness of his
soul, shall be heard, for he that made him will hear him.
4:7. Make thyself affable to the congregation of the poor, and humble
thy soul to the ancient, and bow thy head to a great man.
4:8. Bow down thy ear cheerfully to the poor, and pay what thou owest,
and answer him peaceable words with mildness.
4:9. Deliver him that suffereth wrong out of the hand of the proud:  and
be not fainthearted in thy soul.
4:10. In judging be merciful to the fatherless as a father, and as a
husband to their mother.
4:11. And thou shalt be as the obedient son of the most High, and he
will have mercy on thee more than a mother.
4:12. Wisdom inspireth life into her children, and protecteth them that
seek after her, and will go before them in the way of justice.
4:13. And he that loveth her, loveth life:  and they that watch for her,
shall embrace her sweetness.
4:14. They that hold her fast, shall inherit life:  and whithersoever
she entereth, God will give a blessing.
4:15. They that serve her, shall be servants to the holy one:  and God
loveth them that love her.
4:16. He that hearkeneth to her, shall judge nations:  and he that
looketh upon her, shall remain secure.
4:17. If he trust to her, he shall inherit her, and his generation
shall be in assurance.
4:18. For she walketh with him in temptation, and at the first she
chooseth him.
In temptation, etc. . .The meaning is, that before wisdom will choose
any for her favourite, she will try them by leading them through
contradictions, afflictions, and temptations, the usual noviceship of
the children of God.
4:19. She will bring upon him fear and dread and trial:  and she will
scourge him with the affliction of her discipline, till she try him by
her laws, and trust his soul.
4:20. Then she will strengthen him, and make a straight way to him, and
give him joy,
4:21. And will disclose her secrets to him, and will heap upon him
treasures of knowledge and understanding of justice.
4:22. But if he go astray, she will forsake him, and deliver him into
the hands of his enemy.
4:23. Son, observe the time, and fly from evil.
4:24. For thy soul be not ashamed to say the truth.
4:25. For there is a shame that bringeth sin, and there is a shame that
bringeth glory and grace.
4:26. Accept no person against thy own person, nor against thy soul a
4:27. Reverence not thy neighbour in his fall:
4:28. And refrain not to speak in the time of salvation.  Hide not thy
wisdom in her beauty.
4:29. For by the tongue wisdom is discerned:  and understanding, and
knowledge, and learning by the word of the wise, and steadfastness in
the works of justice.
4:30. In nowise speak against the truth, but be ashamed of the lie of
thy ignorance.
4:31. Be not ashamed to confess thy sins, but submit not thyself to
every man for sin.
4:32. Resist not against the face of the mighty, and do not strive
against the stream of the river.
4:33. Strive for justice for thy soul, and even unto death fight for
justice, and God will overthrow thy enemies for thee.
4:34. Be not hasty in thy tongue:  and slack and remiss in thy works.
4:35. Be not as a lion in thy house, terrifying them of thy household,
and oppressing them that are under thee.
4:36. Let not thy hand be stretched out to receive, and shut when thou
shouldst give.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 5
We must not presume of our wealth or strength:  nor of the mercy of God,
to go on in sin:  we must be steadfast in virtue and truth.
5:1. Set not thy heart upon unjust possessions, and say not:  I have
enough to live on:  for it shall be of no service in the time of
vengeance and darkness.
5:2. Follow not in thy strength the desires of thy heart:
5:3. And say not:  How mighty am I?  and who shall bring me under for my
deeds?  for God will surely take revenge.
5:4. Say not:  I have sinned, and what harm hath befallen me?  for the
most High is a patient rewarder.
5:5. Be not without fear about sin forgiven, and add not sin upon sin:
5:6. And say not:  The mercy of the Lord is great, he will have mercy on
the multitude of my sins.
5:7. For mercy and wrath quickly come from him, and his wrath looketh
upon sinners.
5:8. Delay not to be converted to the Lord, and defer it not from day
5:9. For his wrath shall come on a sudden, and in the time of vengeance
he will destroy thee.
5:10. Be not anxious for goods unjustly gotten:  for they shall not
profit thee in the day of calamity and revenge.
5:11. Winnow not with every wind, and go not into every way:  for so is
every sinner proved by a double tongue.
5:12. Be steadfast in the way of the Lord, and in the truth of thy
judgment, and in knowledge, and let the word of peace and justice keep
5:13. Be meek to hear the word, that thou mayst understand:  and return
a true answer with wisdom.
5:14. If thou have understanding, answer thy neighbour:  but if not, let
thy hand be upon thy mouth, lest thou be surprised in an unskilful
word, and be confounded.
5:15. Honour and glory is in the word of the wise, but the tongue of
the fool is his ruin.
5:16. Be not called a whisperer, and be not taken in thy tongue, and
5:17. For confusion and repentance is upon a thief, and an evil mark of
disgrace upon the double tongued, but to the whisperer hatred, and
enmity, and reproach.
5:18. Justify alike the small and the great.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 6
Of true and false friends:  and of the of the fruits of wisdom.
6:1. Instead of a friend become not an enemy to thy neighbour:  for an
evil man shall inherit reproach and shame, so shall every sinner that
is envious and double tongued.
6:2. Extol not thyself in the thoughts of thy soul like a bull:  lest
thy strength be quashed by folly,
6:3. And it eat up thy leaves, and destroy thy fruit, and thou be left
as a dry tree in the wilderness.
6:4. For a wicked soul shall destroy him that hath it, and maketh him
to be a joy to his enemies, and shall lead him into the lot of the
6:5. A sweet word multiplieth friends, and appeaseth enemies, and a
gracious tongue in a good man aboundeth.
6:6. Be in peace with many, but let one of a thousand be thy
6:7. If thou wouldst get a friend, try him before thou takest him, and
do not credit him easily.
6:8. For there is a friend for his own occasion, and he will not abide
in the day of thy trouble.
6:9. And there is a friend that turneth to enmity; and there is a
friend that will disclose hatred and strife and reproaches.
6:10. And there is a friend a companion at the table, and he will not
abide in the day of distress.
6:11. A friend if he continue steadfast, shall be to thee as thyself,
and shall act with confidence among them of thy household.
6:12. If he humble himself before thee, and hide himself from thy face,
thou shalt have unanimous friendship for good.
6:13. Separate thyself from thy enemies, and take heed of thy friends.
6:14. A faithful friend is a strong defence:  and he that hath found
him, hath found a treasure.
6:15. Nothing can be compared to a faithful friend, and no weight of
gold and silver is able to countervail the goodness of his fidelity.
6:16. A faithful friend is the medicine of life and immortality:  and
they that fear the Lord, shall find him.
6:17. He that feareth God, shall likewise have good friendship:  because
according to him shall his friend be.
6:18. My son, from thy youth up receive instruction, and even to thy
grey hairs thou shalt find wisdom.
6:19. Come to her as one that plougheth, and soweth, and wait for her
good fruits:
6:20. For in working about her thou shalt labour a little, and shalt
quickly eat of her fruits.
6:21. How very unpleasant is wisdom to the unlearned, and the unwise
will not continue with her.
6:22. She shall be to them as a mighty stone of trial, and they will
cast her from them before it be long.
6:23. For the wisdom of doctrine is according to her name, and she is
not manifest unto many, but with them to whom she is known, she
continueth even to the sight of God.
6:24. Give ear, my son, and take wise counsel, and cast not away my
6:25. Put thy feet into her fetters, and thy neck into her chains:
6:26. Bow down thy shoulder, and bear her, and be not grieved with her
6:27. Come to her with all thy mind, and keep her ways with all thy
6:28. Search for her, and she shall be made known to thee, and when
thou hast gotten her, let her not go:
6:29. For in the latter end thou shalt find rest in her, and she shall
be turned to thy joy.
6:30. Then shall her fetters be a strong defence for thee, and a firm
foundation, and her chain a robe of glory:
6:31. For in her is the beauty of life, and her bands are a healthful
6:32. Thou shalt put her on as a robe of glory, and thou shalt set her
upon thee as a crown of joy.
6:33. My son, if thou wilt attend to me, thou shalt learn:  and if thou
wilt apply thy mind, thou shalt be wise.
6:34. If thou wilt incline thy ear, thou shalt receive instruction:  and
if thou love to hear, thou shalt be wise.
6:35. Stand in the multitude of ancients that are wise, and join
thyself from thy heart to their wisdom, that thou mayst hear every
discourse of God, and the sayings of praise may not escape thee.
6:36. And if thou see a man of understanding, go to him early in the
morning, and let thy foot wear the steps of his doors.
6:37. Let thy thoughts be upon the precepts of God, and meditate
continually on his commandments:  and he will give thee a heart, and the
desire of wisdom shall be given to thee.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 7
Religious and moral duties.
7:1. Do no evils, and no evils shall lay hold of thee.
7:2. Depart from the unjust, and evils shall depart from thee.
7:3. My son, sow not evils in the furrows of injustice, and thou shalt
not reap them sevenfold.
7:4. Seek not of the Lord a preeminence, nor of the king the seat of
7:5. Justify not thyself before God, for he knoweth the heart:  and
desire not to appear wise before the king.
7:6. Seek not to be made a judge, unless thou have strength enough to
extirpate iniquities:  lest thou fear the person of the powerful, and
lay a stumblingblock for thy integrity.
7:7. Offend not against the multitude of a city, neither cast thyself
in upon the people,
7:8. Nor bind sin to sin:  for even in one thou shalt not be unpunished.
7:9. Be not fainthearted in thy mind:
7:10. Neglect not to pray, and to give alms.
7:11. Say not:  God will have respect to the multitude of my gifts, and
when I offer to the most high God, he will accept my offerings.
7:12. Laugh no man to scorn in the bitterness of his soul:  for there is
one that humbleth and exalteth, God who seeth all.
7:13. Devise not a lie against thy brother:  neither do the like against
7:14. Be not willing to make any manner of lie:  for the custom thereof
is not good.
7:15. Be not full of words in a multitude of ancients, and repeat not
the word in thy prayer.
Repeat not, etc. . .Make not much babbling by repetition of words:  but
aim more at fervour of heart.
7:16. Hate not laborious works, nor husbandry ordained by the most
7:17. Number not thyself among the multitude of the disorderly.
7:18. Remember wrath, for it will not tarry long.
7:19. Humble thy spirit very much:  for the vengeance on the flesh of
the ungodly is fire and worms.
7:20. Do not transgress against thy friend deferring money, nor despise
thy dear brother for the sake of gold.
7:21. Depart not from a wise and good wife, whom thou hast gotten in
the fear of the Lord:  for the grace of her modesty is above gold.
7:22. Hurt not the servant that worketh faithfully, nor the hired man
that giveth thee his life.
7:23. Let a wise servant be dear to thee as thy own soul, defraud him
not of liberty, nor leave him needy.
7:24. Hast thou cattle?  have an eye to them:  and if they be for thy
profit, keep them with thee.
7:25. Hast thou children?  instruct them, and bow down their neck from
their childhood.
7:26. Hast thou daughters?  have a care of their body, and shew not thy
countenance gay towards them.
7:27. Marry thy daughter well, and thou shalt do a great work, and give
her to a wise man.
7:28. If thou hast a wife according to thy soul, cast her not off:  and
to her that is hateful, trust not thyself.  With thy whole heart,
7:29. Honour thy father, and forget not the groanings of thy mother:
7:30. Remember that thou hadst not been born but through them:  and make
a return to them as they have done for thee.
7:31. With all thy soul fear the Lord, and reverence his priests.
7:32. With all thy strength love him that made thee:  and forsake not
his ministers.
7:33. Honour God with all thy soul and give honour to the priests, and
purify thyself with thy arms.
Thy arms. . .That is, with all thy power:  or else by arms (brachiis) are
here signified the right shoulders of the victims, which by the law
fell to the priests.  See ver. 35.
7:34. Give them their portion, as it is commanded thee, of the
firstfruits and of purifications:  and for thy negligences purify
thyself with a few.
7:35. Offer to the Lord the gift of thy shoulders, and the sacrifice of
sanctification, and the firstfruits of the holy things:
7:36. And stretch out thy hand to the poor, that thy expiation and thy
blessing may be perfected.
7:37. A gift hath grace in the sight of all the living, and restrain
not grace from the dead.
And restrain not grace from the dead. . .That is, withhold not from them
the benefit of alms, prayers, and sacrifices.  Such was the doctrine and
practice of the church of God even in the time of the Old Testament.
And the same has always been continued from the days of the apostles in
the church of the New Testament.
7:38. Be not wanting in comforting them that weep, and walk with them
7:39. Be not slow to visit the sick:  for by these things thou shalt be
confirmed in love.
7:40. In all thy works remember thy last end, and thou shalt never sin.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 8
Other lessons of wisdom and virtue.
8:1. Strive not with a powerful man, lest thou fall into his hands.
8:2. Contend not with a rich man, lest he bring an action against thee.
8:3. For gold and silver hath destroyed many, and hath reached even to
the heart of kings, and perverted them.
8:4. Strive not with a man that is full of tongue, and heap not wood
upon his fire.
8:5. Communicate not with an ignorant man, lest he speak ill of thy
8:6. Despise not a man that turneth away from sin, nor reproach him
therewith:  remember that we are all worthy of reproof.
8:7. Despise not a man in his old age; for we also shall become old.
8:8. Rejoice not at the death of thy enemy; knowing that we all die,
and are not willing that others should rejoice at our death.
8:9. Despise not the discourse of them that are ancient and wise, but
acquaint thyself with their proverbs.
8:10. For of them thou shalt learn wisdom, and instruction of
understanding, and to serve great men without blame.
8:11. Let not the discourse of the ancients escape thee, for they have
learned of their fathers:
8:12. For of them thou shalt learn understanding, and to give an answer
in time of need.
8:13. Kindle not the coals of sinners by rebuking them, lest thou be
burnt with the flame of the fire of their sins.
8:14. Stand not against the face of an injurious person, lest he sit as
a spy to entrap thee in thy words.
8:15. Lend not to a man that is mightier than thyself:  and if thou
lendest, count it as lost.
8:16. Be not surety above thy power:  and if thou be surety, think as if
thou wert to pay it.
8:17. Judge not against a judge:  for he judgeth according to that which
8:18. Go not on the way with a bold man, lest he burden thee with his
evils:  for he goeth according to his own will, and thou shalt perish
together with his folly.
8:19. Quarrel not with a passionate man, and go not into the desert
with a bold man:  for blood is as nothing in his sight, and where there
is no help he will overthrow thee.
8:20. Advise not with fools, for they cannot love but such things as
please them.
8:21. Before a stranger do no matter of counsel:  for thou knowest not
what he will bring forth.
8:22. Open not thy heart to every man:  lest he repay thee with an evil
turn, and speak reproachfully to thee.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 9
Cautions with regard to women, and dangerous conversations.
9:1. Be not jealous over the wife of thy bosom, lest she shew in thy
regard the malice of a wicked lesson.
9:2. Give not the power of thy soul to a woman, lest she enter upon thy
strength, and thou be confounded.
9:3. Look not upon a woman that hath a mind for many:  lest thou fall
into her snares.
9:4. Use not much the company of her that is a dancer, and hearken not
to her, lest thou perish by the force of her charms.
9:5. Gaze not upon a maiden, lest her beauty be a stumblingblock to
9:6. Give not thy soul to harlots in any point:  lest thou destroy
thyself and thy inheritance.
9:7. Look not round about thee in the ways of the city, nor wander up
and down in the streets thereof.
9:8. Turn away thy face from a woman dressed up, and gaze not about
upon another's beauty.
9:9. For many have perished by the beauty of a woman, and hereby lust
is enkindled as a fire.
9:10. Every woman that is a harlot, shall be trodden upon as dung in
9:11. Many by admiring the beauty of another man's wife, have become
reprobate, for her conversation burneth as fire.
9:12. Sit not at all with another man's wife, nor repose upon the bed
9:13. And strive not with her over wine, lest thy heart decline towards
her and by thy blood thou fall into destruction.
9:14. Forsake not an old friend, for the new will not be like to him.
9:15. A new friend is as new wine:  it shall grow old, and thou shalt
drink it with pleasure.
9:16. Envy not the glory and riches of a sinner:  for thou knowest not
what his ruin shall be.
9:17. Be not pleased with the wrong done by the unjust, knowing that
even to hell the wicked shall not please.
9:18. Keep thee far from the man that hath power to kill, so thou shalt
not suspect the fear of death.
9:19. And if thou come to him, commit no fault, lest he take away thy
9:20. Know it to be a communication with death:  for thou art going in
the midst of snares, and walking upon the arms of them that are
9:21. According to thy power beware of thy neighbour, and treat with
the wise and prudent.
9:22. Let just men be thy guests, and let thy glory be in the fear of
9:23. And let the thought of God be in thy mind, and all thy discourse
on the commandments of the Highest.
9:24. Works shall be praised for the hand of the artificers, and the
prince of the people for the wisdom of his speech, but the word of the
ancients for the sense.
9:25. A man full of tongue is terrible in his city, and he that is rash
in his word shall be hateful.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 10
The virtues and vices of men in power:  the great evil of pride.
10:1. A wise judge shall judge his people, and the government of a
prudent man shall be steady.
Judge his people. . .In the Greek it is, instruct his people.
10:2. As the judge of the people is himself, so also are his ministers:
and what manner of man the ruler of a city is, such also are they that
dwell therein.
10:3. An unwise king shall be the ruin of his people:  and cities shall
be inhabited through the prudence of the rulers.
10:4. The power of the earth is in the hand of God, and in his time he
will raise up a profitable ruler over it.
10:5. The prosperity of man is in the hand of God, and upon the person
of the scribe he shall lay his honour.
The scribe. . .That is, the man that is wise and learned in the law.
10:6. Remember not any injury done thee by thy neighbour, and do thou
nothing by deeds of injury.
10:7. Pride is hateful before God and men:  and all iniquity of nations
is execrable.
10:8. A kingdom is translated from one people to another, because of
injustices, and wrongs, and injuries, and divers deceits.
10:9. But nothing is more wicked than the covetous man.  Why is earth,
and ashes proud?
10:10. There is not a more wicked thing than to love money:  for such a
one setteth even his own soul to sale:  because while he liveth he hath
cast away his bowels.
10:11. All power is of short life.  A long sickness is troublesome to
the physician.
10:12. The physician cutteth off a short sickness:  so also a king is to
day, and to morrow he shall die.
10:13. For when a man shall die, he shall inherit serpents, and beasts,
10:14. The beginning of the pride of man, is to fall off from God:
10:15. Because his heart is departed from him that made him:  for pride
is the beginning of all sin:  he that holdeth it, shall be filled with
maledictions, and it shall ruin him in the end.
10:16. Therefore hath the Lord disgraced the assemblies of the wicked,
and hath utterly destroyed them.
10:17. God hath overturned the thrones of proud princes, and hath set
up the meek in their stead.
10:18. God hath made the roots of proud nations to wither, and hath
planted the humble of these nations.
10:19. The Lord hath overthrown the lands of the Gentiles, and hath
destroyed them even to the foundation.
10:20. He hath made some of them to wither away, and hath destroyed
them, and hath made the memory of them to cease from the earth.
10:21. God hath abolished the memory of the proud, and hath preserved
the memory of them that are humble in mind.
10:22. Pride was not made for men:  nor wrath for the race of women.
10:23. That seed of men shall be honoured, which feareth God:  but that
seed shall be dishonoured, which transgresseth the commandments of the
10:24. In the midst of brethren their chief is honourable:  so shall
they that fear the Lord, be in his eyes.
10:25. The fear of God is the glory of the rich, and of the honourable,
and of the poor.
10:26. Despise not a just man that is poor, and do not magnify a sinful
man that is rich.
10:27. The great man, and the judge, and the mighty is in honour:  and
there is none greater than he that feareth God.
10:28. They that are free shall serve a servant that is wise:  and a man
that is prudent and well instructed will not murmur when he is
reproved; and he that is ignorant, shall not be honoured.
10:29. Extol not thyself in doing thy work, and linger not in the time
of distress;
10:30. Better is he that laboureth, and aboundeth in all things, than
he that boasteth himself and wanteth bread.
10:31. My son, keep thy soul in meekness, and give it honour according
to its desert.
10:32. Who will justify him that sinneth against his own soul?  and who
will honour him that dishonoureth his own soul?
10:33. The poor man is glorified by his discipline and fear, and there
is a man that is honoured for his wealth.
10:34. But he that is glorified in poverty, how much more in wealth?
and he that is glorified in wealth, let him fear poverty.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 11
Lessons of humility and moderation in all things.
11:1. The wisdom of the humble shall exalt his head, and shall make him
sit in the midst of great men.
11:2. Praise not a man for his beauty, neither despise a man for his
11:3. The bee is small among flying things but her fruit hath the
chiefest sweetness.
11:4. Glory not in apparel at any time, and be not exalted in the day
of thy honour:  for the works of the Highest only are wonderful, and his
works are glorious, and secret, and hidden.
11:5. Many tyrants have sat on the throne, and he whom no man would
think on, hath worn the crown.
11:6. Many mighty men have been greatly brought down, and the glorious
have been delivered into the hand of others.
11:7. Before thou inquire, blame no man:  and when thou hast inquired,
reprove justly.
11:8. Before thou hear, answer not a word:  and interrupt not others in
the midst of their discourse.
11:9. Strive not in a matter which doth not concern thee, and sit not
in judgment with sinners.
11:10. My son, meddle not with many matters:  and if thou be rich, thou
shalt not be free from sin:  for if thou pursue after thou shalt not
overtake; and if thou run before thou shalt not escape.
11:11. There is an ungodly man that laboureth, and maketh haste, and is
in sorrow, and is so much the more in want.
11:12. Again, there is an inactive man that wanteth help, is very weak
in ability, and full of poverty:
11:13. Yet the eye of God hath looked upon him for good, and hath
lifted him up from his low estate, and hath exalted his head:  and many
have wondered at him, and have glorified God.
11:14. Good things and evil, life and death, poverty and riches, are
11:15. Wisdom and discipline, and the knowledge of the law are with
God.  Love and the ways of good things are with him.
11:16. Error and darkness are created with sinners:  and they that glory
in evil things, grow old in evil.
11:17. The gift of God abideth with the just, and his advancement shall
have success for ever.
11:18. There is one that is enriched by living sparingly, and this is
the portion of his reward.
11:19. In that he saith:  I have found me rest, and now I will eat of my
goods alone:
11:20. And he knoweth not what time shall pass, and that death
approacheth, and that he must leave all to others, and shall die.
11:21. Be steadfast in thy covenant, and be conversant therein, and
grow old in the work of thy commandments.
11:22. Abide not in the works of sinners.  But trust in God, and stay in
11:23. For it is easy in the eyes of God on a sudden to make the poor
11:24. The blessing of God maketh haste to reward the just, and in a
swift hour his blessing beareth fruit.
11:25. Say not:  What need I, and what good shall I have by this?
11:26. Say not:  I am sufficient for myself:  and what shall I be made
worse by this?
11:27. In the day of good things be not unmindful of evils:  and in the
day of evils be not unmindful of good things:
11:28. For it is easy before God in the day of death to reward every
one according to his ways.
11:29. The affliction of an hour maketh one forget great delights, and
in the end of a man is the disclosing of his works.
11:30. Praise not any man before death, for a man is known by his
11:31. Bring not every man into thy house:  for many are the snares of
the deceitful.
11:32. For as corrupted bowels send forth stinking breath, and as the
partridge is brought into the cage, and as the roe into the snare:  so
also is the heart of the proud, and as a spy that looketh on the fall
of his neighbour.
11:33. For he lieth in wait and turneth good into evil, and on the
elect he will lay a blot.
11:34. Of one spark cometh a great fire, and of one deceitful man much
blood:  and a sinful man lieth in wait for blood.
11:35. Take heed to thyself of a mischievous man, for he worketh evils:
lest he bring upon thee reproach for ever.
11:36. Receive a stranger in, and he shall overthrow thee with a
whirlwind, and shall turn thee out of thy own.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 12
We are to be liberal to the just:  and not to trust the wicked.
12:1. If thou do good, know to whom thou dost it, and there shall be
much thanks for thy good deeds.
12:2. Do good to the just, and thou shalt find great recompense:  and if
not of him, assuredly of the Lord.
12:3. For there is no good for him that is always occupied in evil, and
that giveth no alms:  for the Highest hateth sinners, and hath mercy on
the penitent.
12:4. Give to the merciful and uphold not the sinner:  God will repay
vengeance to the ungodly and to sinners, and keep them against the day
of vengeance.
12:5. Give to the good, and receive not a sinner.
12:6. Do good to the humble, and give not to the ungodly:  hold back thy
bread, and give it not to him, lest thereby he overmaster thee.
12:7. For thou shalt receive twice as much evil for all the good thou
shalt have done to him:  for the Highest also hateth sinners, and will
repay vengeance to the ungodly.
12:8. A friend shall not be known in prosperity, and an enemy shall not
be hidden in adversity.
12:9. In the prosperity of a man, his enemies are grieved:  and a friend
is known in his adversity.
12:10. Never trust thy enemy for as a brass pot his wickedness rusteth:
12:11. Though he humble himself and go crouching, yet take good heed
and beware of him.
12:12. Set him not by thee, neither let him sit on thy right hand, lest
he turn into thy place, and seek to take thy seat and at the last thou
acknowledge my words, and be pricked with my sayings.
12:13. Who will pity an enchanter struck by a serpent, or any that come
near wild beasts?  so is it with him that keepeth company with a wicked
man, and is involved in his sins.
12:14. For an hour he will abide with thee:  but if thou begin to
decline, he will not endure it.
12:15. An enemy speaketh sweetly with his lips, but in his heart he
lieth in wait, to throw thee into a pit.
12:16. An enemy weepeth with his eyes:  but if he find an opportunity he
will not be satisfied with blood:
12:17. And if evils come upon thee, thou shalt find him there first.
12:18. An enemy hath tears in his eyes, and while he pretendeth to help
thee, will undermine thy feet.
12:19. He will shake his head, and clap his hands, and whisper much,
and change his countenance.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 13
Cautions in the choice of company.
13:1. He that toucheth pitch, shall be defiled with it:  and he that
hath fellowship with the proud, shall put on pride.
13:2. He shall take a burden upon him that hath fellowship with one
more honourable than himself.  And have no fellowship with one that is
richer than thyself.
13:3. What agreement shall the earthen pot have with the kettle?  for if
they knock one against the other, it shall be broken.
13:4. The rich man hath done wrong, and yet he will fume:  but the poor
is wronged and must hold his peace.
13:5. If thou give, he will make use of thee:  and if thou have nothing,
he will forsake thee.
13:6. If thou have any thing, he will live with thee, and will make
thee bare, and he will not be sorry for thee.
13:7. If he have need of thee he will deceive thee, and smiling upon
thee will put thee in hope; he will speak thee fair, and will say:  What
wantest thou?
13:8. And he will shame thee by his meats, till he have drawn thee dry
twice or thrice, and at last he will laugh at thee:  and afterward when
he seeth thee, he will forsake thee, and shake his head at thee.
13:9. Humble thyself to God, and wait for his hands.
13:10. Beware that thou be not deceived into folly, and be humbled.
13:11. Be not lowly in thy wisdom, lest being humbled thou be deceived
13:12. If thou be invited by one that is mightier, withdraw thyself:
for so he will invite thee the more.
13:13. Be not troublesome to him, lest thou be put back:  and keep not
far from him, lest thou be forgotten.
13:14. Affect not to speak with him as an equal, and believe not his
many words:  for by much talk he will sift thee, and smiling will
examine thee concerning thy secrets.
13:15. His cruel mind will lay up thy words:  and he will not spare to
do thee hurt, and to cast thee into prison.
13:16. Take heed to thyself, and attend diligently to what thou
hearest:  for thou walkest in danger of thy ruin.
13:17. When thou hearest those things, see as it were in sleep, and
thou shalt awake.
13:18. Love God all thy life, and call upon him for thy salvation.
13:19. Every beast loveth its like:  so also every man him that is
nearest to himself.
13:20. All flesh shall consort with the like to itself, and every man
shall associate himself to his like.
13:21. If the wolf shall at any time have fellowship with the lamb, so
the sinner with the just.
13:22. What fellowship hath a holy man with a dog, or what part hath
the rich with the poor?
13:23. The wild ass is the lion's prey in the desert:  so also the poor
are devoured by the rich.
13:24. And as humility is an abomination to the proud:  so also the rich
man abhorreth the poor.
13:25. When a rich man is shaken, he is kept up by his friends:  but
when a poor man is fallen down, he is thrust away even by his
acquaintance.
13:26. When a rich man hath been deceived, he hath many helpers:  he
hath spoken proud things, and they have justified him.
13:27. The poor man was deceived, and he is rebuked also:  he hath
spoken wisely, and could have no place.
13:28. The rich man spoke, and all held their peace, and what he said
they extol even to the clouds.
13:29. The poor man spoke, and they say:  Who is this?  and if he
stumble, they will overthrow him.
13:30. Riches are good to him that hath no sin in his conscience:  and
poverty is very wicked in the mouth of the ungodly.
13:31. The heart of a man changeth his countenance, either for good, or
13:32. The token of a good heart, and a good countenance thou shalt
hardly find, and with labour.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 14
The evil of avarice:  works of mercy are recommended, and the love of
14:1. Blessed is the man that hath not slipped by a word out of his
mouth, and is not pricked with the remorse of sin.
14:2. Happy is he that hath had no sadness of his mind, and who is not
fallen from his hope.
14:3. Riches are not comely for a covetous man and a niggard, and what
should an envious man do with gold?
14:4. He that gathereth together by wronging his own soul, gathereth
for others, and another will squander away his goods in rioting.
14:5. He that is evil to himself, to whom will he be good?  and he shall
not take pleasure in his goods.
14:6. There is none worse than he that envieth himself, and this is the
reward of his wickedness:
14:7. And if he do good, he doth it ignorantly, and unwillingly:  and at
the last he discovereth his wickedness.
14:8. The eye of the envious is wicked:  and he turneth away his face,
and despiseth his own soul.
14:9. The eye of the covetous man is insatiable in his portion of
iniquity:  he will not be satisfied till he consume his own soul, drying
14:10. An evil eye is towards evil things:  and he shall not have his
fill of bread, but shall be needy and pensive at his own table.
14:11. My son, if thou have any thing, do good to thyself, and offer to
God worthy offerings.
14:12. Remember that death is not slow, and that the covenant of hell
hath been shewn to thee:  for the covenant of this world shall surely
Covenant of hell. . .The decree by which all are to go down to the
regions of death.
14:13. Do good to thy friend before thou die, and according to thy
ability, stretching out thy hand give to the poor.
14:14. Defraud not thyself of the good day, and let not the part of a
good gift overpass thee.
14:15. Shalt thou not leave to others to divide by lot thy sorrows and
14:16. Give and take, and justify thy soul.
14:17. Before thy death work justice:  for in hell there is no finding
14:18. All flesh shall fade as grass, and as the leaf that springeth
out on a green tree.
14:19. Some grow, and some fall off:  so is the generation of flesh and
blood, one cometh to an end, and another is born.
14:20. Every work that is corruptible shall fail in the end:  and the
worker thereof shall go with it.
14:21. And every excellent work shall be justified:  and the worker
thereof shall be honoured therein.
14:22. Blessed is the man that shall continue in wisdom, and that shall
meditate in his justice, and in his mind shall think of the all seeing
14:23. He that considereth her ways in his heart, and hath
understanding in her secrets, who goeth after her as one that traceth,
and stayeth in her ways.
14:24. He who looketh in at her windows, and hearkeneth at her door.
14:25. He that lodgeth near her house, and fastening a pin in her walls
shall set up his tent high unto her, where good things shall rest in
his lodging for ever.
14:26. He shall set his children under her shelter, and shall lodge
under her branches:
14:27. He shall be protected under her covering from the heat, and
shall rest in her glory.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 15
Wisdom embraceth them that fear God.  God is not the author of sin.
15:1. He that feareth God, will do good:  and he that possesseth
justice, shall lay hold on her,
15:2. And she will meet him as an honourable mother, and will receive
him as a wife married of a virgin.
15:3. With the bread of life and understanding, she shall feed him, and
give him the water of wholesome wisdom to drink:  and she shall be made
strong in him, and he shall not be moved.
15:4. And she shall hold him fast, and he shall not be confounded:  and
she shall exalt him among his neighbours.
15:5. And in the midst of the church she shall open his mouth, and
shall fill him with the spirit of wisdom and understanding, and shall
clothe him with a robe of glory.
15:6. She shall heap upon him a treasure of joy and gladness, and shall
cause him to inherit an everlasting name.
15:7. But foolish men shall not obtain her, and wise men shall meet
her, foolish men shall not see her:  for she is far from pride and
15:8. Lying men shall be mindful of her:  but men that speak truth shall
be found with her, and shall advance, even till they come to the sight
15:9. Praise is not seemly in the mouth of a sinner:
15:10. For wisdom came forth from God:  for praise shall be with the
wisdom of God, and shall abound in a faithful mouth, and the sovereign
Lord will give praise unto it.
15:11. Say not:  It is through God, that she is not with me:  for do not
thou the things that he hateth.
15:12. Say not:  He hath caused me to err:  for he hath no need of wicked
15:13. The Lord hateth all abomination of error, and they that fear him
shall not love it.
15:14. God made man from the beginning, and left him in the hand of his
own counsel.
15:15. He added his commandments and precepts.
15:16. If thou wilt keep the commandments and perform acceptable
fidelity for ever, they shall preserve thee.
15:17. He hath set water and fire before thee:  stretch forth thy hand
to which thou wilt.
15:18. Before man is life and death, good and evil, that which he shall
choose shall be given him:
15:19. For the wisdom of God is great, and he is strong in power,
seeing all men without ceasing.
15:20. The eyes of the Lord are towards them that fear him, and he
knoweth al the work of man.
15:21. He hath commanded no man to do wickedly, and he hath given no
man license to sin;
15:22. For he desireth not a multitude of faithless and unprofitable
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 16
It is better to have none than many wicked children.  Of the justice and
mercy of God.  His ways are unsearchable.
16:1. Rejoice not in ungodly children, if they be multiplied:  neither
be delighted in them, if the fear of God be not with them.
16:2. Trust not to their life, and respect not their labours.
16:3. For better is one that feareth God, than a thousand ungodly
16:4. And it is better to die without children, than to leave ungodly
16:5. By one that is wise a country shall be inhabited, the tribe of
the ungodly shall become desolate.
16:6. Many such things hath my eyes seen, and greater things than these
my ear hath heard.
16:7. In the congregation of sinners a fire shall be kindled, and in an
unbelieving nation wrath shall flame out.
16:8. The ancient giants did not obtain pardon for their sins, who were
destroyed trusting to their own strength:
16:9. And he spared not the place where Lot sojourned, but abhorred
them for the pride of their word.
16:10. He had not pity on them, destroying the whole nation that
extolled themselves in their sins.
16:11. So did he with the six hundred thousand footmen, who were
gathered together in the hardness of their heart:  and if one had been
stiffnecked, it is a wonder if he had escaped unpunished:
Six hundred thousand footmen, etc. . .Viz., the children of Israel, whom
he sentenced to die in the wilderness.  Num. 14.
16:12. For mercy and wrath are with him.  He is mighty to forgive, and
to pour out indignation:
16:13. According as his mercy is, so his correction judgeth a man
according to his works.
16:14. The sinner shall not escape in his rapines, and the patience of
him that sheweth mercy shall not be put off.
16:15. All mercy shall make a place for every man according to the
merit of his works, and according to the wisdom of his sojournment.
16:16. Say not:  I shall be hidden from God, and who shall remember me
from on high?
16:17. In such a multitude I shall not be known:  for what is my soul in
such an immense creation?
16:18. Behold the heaven, and the heavens of heavens, the deep, and all
the earth, and the things that are in them, shall be moved in his
16:19. The mountains also, and the hills, and the foundations of the
earth:  when God shall look upon them, they shall be shaken with
16:20. And in all these things the heart is senseless:  and every heart
is understood by him.
16:21. And his ways who shall understand, and the storm, which no eye
of man shall see?
16:22. For many of his works are hidden, but the works of his justice
who shall declare?  or who shall endure?  for the testament is far from
some, and the examination of all is in the end.
16:23. He that wanteth understanding thinketh vain things, and the
foolish, and erring man, thinketh foolish things.
16:24. Hearken to me, my son, and learn the discipline of
understanding, and attend to my words in thy heart.
16:25. And I will shew forth good doctrine in equity, and will seek to
declare wisdom:  and attend to my words in thy heart, whilst with equity
of spirit I tell thee the virtues that God hath put upon his works from
the beginning, and I shew forth in truth his knowledge.
16:26. The works of God are done in judgment from the beginning, and
from the making of them he distinguished their parts, and their
beginnings in their generations.
16:27. He beautified their works for ever, they have neither hungered,
nor laboured, and they have not ceased from their works.
16:28. Nor shall any of them straiten his neighbour at any time.
16:29. Be not thou incredulous to his word.
16:30. After this God looked upon the earth, and filled it with his
16:31. The soul of every living thing hath shewn forth before the face
thereof, and into it they return again.
Shewn forth. . .Viz., the glory and power of God upon the earth.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 17
The creation and favour of God to man.  An exhortation to turn to God.
17:1. God created man of the earth, and made him after his own image.
17:2. And he turned him into it again, and clothed him with strength
according to himself.
17:3. He gave him the number of his days and time, and gave him power
over all things that are upon the earth.
17:4. He put the fear of him upon all flesh, and he had dominion over
beasts and fowls.
17:5. He created of him a helpmate like to himself, he gave them
counsel, and a tongue, and eyes, and ears, and a heart to devise:  and
he filled them with the knowledge of understanding.
17:6. He created in them the science of the spirit, he fired their
heart with wisdom, and shewed them both good and evil.
17:7. He set his eye upon their hearts to shew them the greatness of
17:8. That they might praise the name which he hath sanctified:  and
glory in his wondrous act that they might declare the glorious things
of his works.
17:9. Moreover he gave them instructions, and the law of life for an
inheritance.
17:10. He made an everlasting covenant with them, and he shewed them
his justice and judgments.
17:11. And their eye saw the majesty of his glory, and their ears heard
his glorious voice, and he said to them:  Beware of all iniquity.
Their eye saw, etc. . .Viz., when he gave the law on mount Sinai.
17:12. And he gave to every one of them commandment concerning his
17:13. Their ways are always before him, they are not hidden from his
17:14. Over every nation he set a ruler.
17:15. And Israel was made the manifest portion of God.
17:16. And all their works are as the sun in the sight of God:  and his
eyes are continually upon their ways.
17:17. Their covenants were not hid by their iniquity, and all their
iniquities are in the sight of God.
17:18. The alms of a man is as a signet with him, and shall preserve
the grace of a man as the apple of the eye:
17:19. And afterward he shall rise up, and shall render them their
reward, to every one upon their own head, and shall turn them down into
the bowels of the earth.
17:20. But to the penitent he hath given the way of justice, and he
hath strengthened them that were fainting in patience, and hath
appointed to them the lot of truth.
17:21. Turn to the Lord, and forsake thy sins:
17:22. Make thy prayer before the face of the Lord, and offend less.
Offend less. . .Minue offendicula.  That is, remove sins and the
occasions of sins.
17:23. Return to the Lord, and turn away from thy injustice, and
greatly hate abomination.
17:24. And know the justices and judgments of God, and stand firm in
the lot set before thee, and in prayer to the most high God.
17:25. Go to the side of the holy age, with them that live and give
praise to God.
Go to the side, etc. . .Fly from the side of Satan and sin, and join
with the holy ones, that follow God and godliness.
17:26. Tarry not in the error of the ungodly, give glory before death.
Praise perisheth from the dead as nothing.
17:27. Give thanks whilst thou art living, whilst thou art alive and in
health thou shalt give thanks, and shalt praise God, and shalt glory in
his mercies.
17:28. How great is the mercy of the Lord, and his forgiveness to them
that turn to him !
17:29. For all things cannot be in men, because the son of man is not
immortal, and they are delighted with the vanity of evil.
17:30. What is brighter than the sun; yet it shall be eclipsed.  Or what
is more wicked than that which flesh and blood hath invented?  and this
shall be reproved.
17:31. He beholdeth the power of the height of heaven:  and all men are
earth and ashes.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 18
God's works are wonderful:  we must serve him, and not our lusts.
18:1. He that liveth for ever created all things together.  God only
shall be justified, and he remaineth an invincible king for ever.
18:2. Who is able to declare his works?
18:3. For who shall search out his glorious acts?
18:4. And who shall show forth the power of his majesty?  or who shall
be able to declare his mercy?
18:5. Nothing may be taken away, nor added, neither is it possible to
find out the glorious works of God.
18:6. When a man hath done, then shall he begin:  and when he leaveth
off, he shall be at a loss.
Then shall he begin. . .God is so great and incomprehensible, that when
man has done all that he can to find out his greatness and boundless
perfections, he is still to begin:  for what he has found out, is but a
mere nothing in comparison with his infinity.
18:7. What is man, and what is his grace?  and what is his good, or what
is his evil?
18:8. The number of the days of men at the most are a hundred years, as
a drop of water of the sea are they esteemed:  and as a pebble of the
sand, so are a few years compared to eternity.
18:9. Therefore God is patient in them, and poureth forth his mercy
18:10. He hath seen the presumption of their heart that it is wicked,
and hath known their end that it is evil.
18:11. Therefore hath he filled up his mercy in their favour, and hath
shewn them the way of justice.
18:12. The compassion of man is toward his neighbour:  but the mercy of
God is upon all flesh.
18:13. He hath mercy, and teacheth, and correcteth, as a shepherd doth
18:14. He hath mercy on him that receiveth the discipline of mercy, and
that maketh haste in his judgments.
18:15. My son, in thy good deeds, make no complaint, and when thou
givest any thing, add not grief by an evil word.
18:16. Shall not the dew assuage the heat?  so also the good word is
better than the gift.
18:17. Lo, is not a word better than a gift?  but both are with a
justified man.
18:18. A fool will upbraid bitterly:  and a gift of one ill taught
consumeth the eyes.
18:19. Before judgment prepare thee justice, and learn before thou
18:20. Before sickness take a medicine, and before judgment examine
thyself, and thou shalt find mercy in the sight of God.
18:21. Humble thyself before thou art sick, and in the time of sickness
shew thy conversation.
18:22. Let nothing hinder thee from praying always, and be not afraid
to be justified even to death:  for the reward of God continueth for
18:23. Before prayer prepare thy soul:  and be not as a man that
tempteth God.
18:24. Remember the wrath that shall be at the last day, and the time
of repaying when he shall turn away his face.
18:25. Remember poverty in the time of abundance, and the necessities
of poverty in the day of riches.
18:26. From the morning until the evening the time shall be changed,
and all these are swift in the eyes of God.
18:27. A wise man will fear in every thing, and in the days of sins
will beware of sloth.
18:28. Every man of understanding knoweth wisdom, and will give praise
to him that findeth her.
18:29. They that were of good understanding in words, have also done
wisely themselves:  and have understood truth and justice, and have
poured forth proverbs and judgments.
18:30. Go not after thy lusts, but turn away from thy own will.
18:31. If thou give to thy soul her desires, she will make thee a joy
to thy enemies.
18:32. Take no pleasure in riotous assemblies, be they ever so small:
for their concertation is continual.
18:33. Make not thyself poor by borrowing to contribute to feasts when
thou hast nothing in thy purse:  for thou shalt be an enemy to thy own
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 19
Admonition against sundry vices.
19:1. A workman that is a drunkard shall not be rich:  and he that
contemneth small things, shall fall by little and little.
19:2. Wine and women make wise men fall off, and shall rebuke the
19:3. And he that joineth himself to harlots, will be wicked.
Rottenness and worms shall inherit him, and he shall be lifted up for a
greater example, and his soul shall be taken away out of the number.
19:4. He that is hasty to give credit, is light of heart, and shall be
lessened:  and he that sinneth against his own soul, shall be despised.
19:5. He that rejoiceth in iniquity, shall be censured, and he that
hateth chastisement, shall have less life:  and he that hateth babbling,
extinguisheth evil.
19:6. He that sinneth against his own soul, shall repent:  and he that
is delighted with wickedness, shall be condemned.
19:7. Rehearse not again a wicked and harsh word, and thou shalt not
fare the worse.
19:8. Tell not thy mind to friend or foe:  and if there be a sin with
thee, disclose it not.
19:9. For he will hearken to thee, and will watch thee, and as it were
defending thy sin he will hate thee, and so will he be with thee
19:10. Hast thou heard a word against thy neighbour?  let it die within
thee, trusting that it will not burst thee.
19:11. At the hearing of a word the fool is in travail, as a woman
groaning in the bringing forth a child.
19:12. As an arrow that sticketh in a man's thigh:  so is a word in the
heart of a fool.
19:13. Reprove a friend, lest he may not have understood, and say:  I
did it not:  or if he did it, that he may do it no more.
19:14. Reprove thy neighbour, for it may be he hath not said it:  and if
he hath said it, that he may not say it again.
19:15. Admonish thy friend:  for there is often a fault committed.
19:16. And believe not every word.  There is one, that slippeth with the
tongue, but not from his heart.
19:17. For who is there that hath not offended with his tongue?
Admonish thy neighbour before thou threaten him.
19:18. And give place to the fear of the most High:  for the fear of God
is all wisdom, and therein is to fear God, and the disposition of the
law is in all wisdom.
19:19. But the learning of wickedness is not wisdom:  and the device of
sinners is not prudence.
19:20. There is a subtle wickedness, and the same is detestable:  and
there is a man that is foolish, wanting in wisdom.
19:21. Better is a man that hath less wisdom, and wanteth
understanding, with the fear of God, than he that aboundeth in
understanding, and transgresseth the law of the most High.
19:22. There is an exquisite subtilty, and the same is unjust.
19:23. And there is one that uttereth an exact word telling the truth.
There is one that humbleth himself wickedly, and his interior is full
19:24. And there is one that submitteth himself exceedingly with a
great lowliness:  and there is one that casteth down his countenance,
and maketh as if he did not see that which is unknown:
19:25. And if he be hindered from sinning for want of power, if he
shall find opportunity to do evil, he will do it.
19:26. A man is known by his look, and a wise man, when thou meetest
him, is known by his countenance.
19:27. The attire of the body, and the laughter of the teeth, and the
gait of the man, shew what he is.
19:28. There is a lying rebuke in the anger of an injurious man:  and
there is a judgment that is not allowed to be good:  and there is one
that holdeth his peace, he is wise.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 20
Rules with regard to correction, discretion, and avoiding lies.
20:1. How much better is it to reprove, than to be angry, and not to
hinder him that confesseth in prayer.
20:2. The lust of an eunuch shall deflour a young maiden:
20:3. So is he that by violence executeth of the unwise.
20:4. How good is it, when thou art reproved, to shew repentance! for
so thou shalt escape wilful sin.
20:5. There is one that holdeth his peace, that is found wise:  and
there is another that is hateful, that is bold in speech.
20:6. There is one that holdeth his peace, because he knoweth not what
to say:  and there is another that holdeth his peace, knowing the proper
20:7. A wise man will hold his peace till he see opportunity:  but a
babbler, and a fool, will regard no time.
20:8. He that useth many words shall hurt his own soul:  and he that
taketh authority to himself unjustly shall be hated.
20:9. There is success in evil things to a man without discipline, and
there is a finding that turneth to loss.
20:10. There is a gift that is not profitable:  and there is a gift, the
recompense of which is double.
20:11. There is an abasement because of glory:  and there is one that
shall lift up his head from a low estate.
20:12. There is that buyeth much for a small price, and restoreth the
same sevenfold.
20:13. A man wise in words shall make himself beloved:  but the graces
of fools shall be poured out.
20:14. The gift of the fool shall do thee no good:  for his eyes are
20:15. He will give a few things, and upbraid much:  and the opening of
his mouth is the kindling of a fire.
20:16. To day a man lendeth, and to morrow he asketh it again:  such a
man as this is hateful.
20:17. A fool shall have no friend, and there shall be no thanks for
his good deeds.
20:18. For they that eat his bread, are of a false tongue.  How often,
and how many will laugh him to scorn!
20:19. For he doth not distribute with right understanding that which
was to be had:  in like manner also that which was not to be had.
20:20. The slipping of a false tongue is as one that falleth on the
pavement:  so the fall of the wicked shall come speedily.
20:21. A man without grace is as a vain fable, it shall be continually
in the mouth of the unwise.
20:22. A parable coming out of a fool's mouth shall be rejected:  for he
doth not speak it in due season.
20:23. There is that is hindered from sinning through want, and in his
rest he shall be pricked.
20:24. There is that will destroy his own soul through shamefacedness,
and by occasion of an unwise person he will destroy it:  and by respect
of person he will destroy himself.
20:25. There is that for bashfulness promiseth to his friend, and
maketh him his enemy for nothing.
20:26. A lie is a foul blot in a man, and yet it will be continually in
the mouth of men without discipline.
20:27. A thief is better than a man that is always lying:  but both of
them shall inherit destruction.
20:28. The manners of lying men are without honour:  and their confusion
is with them without ceasing.
20:29. A wise man shall advance himself with his words, and a prudent
man shall please the great ones.
20:30. He that tilleth his land shall make a high heap of corn:  and he
that worketh justice shall be exalted:  and he that pleaseth great men
shall escape iniquity.
20:31. Presents and gifts blind the eyes of judges, and make them dumb
in the mouth, so that they cannot correct.
20:32. O Wisdom that is hid, and treasure that is not seen:  what profit
is there in them both?
20:33. Better is he that hideth his folly, than the man that hideth his
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 21
Cautions against sin in general, and some sins in particular.
21:1. My son, hast thou sinned?  do so no more:  but for thy former sins
also pray that they may be forgiven thee.
21:2. Flee from sins as from the face of a serpent:  for if thou comest
near them, they will take hold of thee.
21:3. The teeth thereof are the teeth of a lion, killing the souls of
21:4. All iniquity is like a two-edged sword, there is no remedy for
the wound thereof.
21:5. Injuries and wrongs will waste riches:  and the house that is very
rich shall be brought to nothing by pride:  so the substance of the
proud shall be rooted out.
21:6. The prayer out of the mouth of the poor shall reach the ears of
God, and judgment shall come for him speedily.
21:7. He that hateth to be reproved walketh in the trace of a sinner:
and he that feareth God will turn to his own heart.
21:8. He that is mighty by a bold tongue is known afar off, but a wise
man knoweth to slip by him.
21:9. He that buildeth his house at other men's charges, is as he that
gathereth himself stones to build in the winter.
21:10. The congregation of sinners is like tow heaped together, and the
end of them is a flame of fire.
21:11. The way of sinners is made plain with stones, and in their end
is hell, and darkness, and pains.
21:12. He that keepeth justice shall get the understanding thereof.
21:13. The perfection of the fear of God is wisdom and understanding.
21:14. He that is not wise in good, will not be taught.
21:15. But there is a wisdom that aboundeth in evil:  and there is no
understanding where there is bitterness.
21:16. The knowledge of a wise man shall abound like a flood, and his
counsel continueth like a fountain of life.
21:17. The heart of a fool is like a broken vessel, and no wisdom at
all shall it hold.
21:18. A man of sense will praise every wise word he shall hear, and
will apply it to himself:  the luxurious man hath heard it, and it shall
displease him, and he will cast it behind his back.
21:19. The talking of a fool is like a burden in the way:  but in the
lips of the wise, grace shall be found.
21:20. The mouth of the prudent is sought after in the church, and they
will think upon his words in their hearts.
21:21. As a house that is destroyed, so is wisdom to a fool:  and the
knowledge of the unwise is as words without sense.
21:22. Doctrine to a fool is as fetters on the feet, and like manacles
on the right hand.
21:23. A fool lifteth up his voice in laughter:  but a wise man will
scarce laugh low to himself.
21:24. Learning to the prudent is as an ornament of gold, and like a
bracelet upon his right arm.
21:25. The foot of a fool is soon in his neighbour's house:  but a man
of experience will be abashed at the person of the mighty.
21:26. A fool will peep through the window into the house:  but he that
is well taught will stand without.
21:27. It is the folly of a man to hearken at the door:  and a wise man
will be grieved with the disgrace.
21:28. The lips of the unwise will be telling foolish things:  but the
words of the wise shall be weighed in a balance.
21:29. The heart of fools is in their mouth:  and the mouth of wise men
is in their heart.
21:30. While the ungodly curseth the devil, he curseth his own soul.
While the ungodly, etc. . .He condemneth and curseth himself:  inasmuch
as by sin he takes part with the devil, and is, as it were, his member
and subject.
21:31. The talebearer shall defile his own soul, and shall be hated by
all:  and he that shall abide with him shall be hateful:  the silent and
wise man shall be honoured.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 22
Wise sayings on divers subjects.
22:1. The sluggard is pelted with a dirty stone, and all men will speak
of his disgrace.
22:2. The sluggard is pelted with the dung of oxen:  and every one that
toucheth him will shake his hands.
22:3. A son ill taught is the confusion of the father:  and a foolish
daughter shall be to his loss.
22:4. A wise daughter shall bring an inheritance to her husband:  but
she that confoundeth, becometh a disgrace to her father.
22:5. She that is bold shameth both her father and husband, and will
not be inferior to the ungodly:  and shall be disgraced by them both.
22:6. A tale out of time is like music in mourning:  but the stripes and
instruction of wisdom are never out of time.
22:7. He that teacheth a fool, is like one that glueth a potsherd
22:8. He that telleth a word to him that heareth not, is like one that
waketh a man out of a deep sleep.
22:9. He speaketh with one that is asleep, who uttereth wisdom to a
fool:  and in the end of the discourse he saith:  Who is this?
22:10. Weep for the dead, for his light hath failed:  and weep for the
fool, for his understanding faileth.
For the fool. . .In the language of the Holy Ghost, he is styled a fool,
that turns away from God to follow vanity and sin.  And what is said by
the wise man against fools is meant of such fools as these.
22:11. Weep but a little for the dead, for he is at rest.
22:12. For the wicked life of a wicked fool is worse than death.
22:13. The mourning for the dead is seven days:  but for a fool and an
ungodly man all the days of their life.
22:14. Talk not much with a fool and go not with him that hath no
22:15. Keep thyself from him, that thou mayst not have trouble, and
thou shalt not be defiled with his sin.
22:16. Turn away from him, and thou shalt find rest, and shalt not be
wearied out with his folly.
22:17. What is heavier than lead?  and what other name hath he but fool?
22:18. Sand and salt, and a mass of iron is easier to bear, than a man
without sense, that is both foolish and wicked.
22:19. A frame of wood bound together in the foundation of a building,
shall not be loosed:  so neither shall the heart that is established by
advised counsel.
22:20. The thought of him that is wise at all times, shall not be
depraved by fear.
22:21. As pales set in high places, and plasterings made without cost,
will not stand against the face of the wind:
22:22. So also a fearful heart in the imagination of a fool shall not
resist against the violence of fear.
22:23. As a fearful heart in the thought of a fool at all times will
not fear, so neither shall he that continueth always in the
commandments of God.
22:24. He that pricketh the eye, bringeth out tears:  and he that
pricketh the heart, bringeth forth resentment.
22:25. He that flingeth a stone at birds, shall drive them away:  so he
that upbraideth his friend, breaketh friendship.
22:26. Although thou hast drawn a sword at a friend, despair not:  for
there may be a returning.  To a friend,
22:27. If thou hast opened a sad mouth, fear not, for there may be a
reconciliation:  except upbraiding, and reproach, and pride, and
disclosing of secrets, or a treacherous wound:  for in all these cases a
friend will flee away.
22:28. Keep fidelity with a friend in his poverty, that in his
prosperity also thou mayst rejoice.
22:29. In the time of his trouble continue faithful to him, that thou
mayst also be heir with him in his inheritance.
22:30. As the vapour of a chimney, and the smoke of the fire goeth up
before the fire:  so also injurious words, and reproaches, and threats,
before blood.
22:31. I will not be ashamed to salute a friend, neither will I hide
myself from his face:  and if any evil happen to me by him, I will bear
22:32. But every one that shall hear it, will beware of him.
22:33. Who will set a guard before my mouth, and a sure seal upon my
lips, that I fall not by them, and that my tongue destroy me not?
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 23
A prayer for grace to flee sin:  cautions against profane swearing and
other vices.
23:1. O Lord, father, and sovereign ruler of my life, leave me not to
their counsel:  nor suffer me to fall by them.
By them. . .Viz., the tongue and the lips, mentioned in the last verse
of the foregoing chapter.
23:2. Who will set scourges over my thoughts, and the discipline of
wisdom over my heart, that they spare me not in their ignorances, and
that their sins may not appear:
That they spare me not in their ignorances, etc. . .That is, that the
scourges and discipline of wisdom may restrain the ignorances, that is,
the slips and offences which are usually committed by the tongue and
23:3. Lest my ignorances increase, and my offences be multiplied, and
my sins abound, and I fall before my adversaries, and my enemy rejoice
23:4. O Lord, father, and God of my life, leave me not to their
23:5. Give me not haughtiness of my eyes, and turn away from me all
23:6. Take from me the greediness of the belly, and let not the lusts
of the flesh take hold of me, and give me not over to a shameless and
foolish mind.
23:7. Hear, O ye children, the discipline of the mouth, and he that
will keep it shall not perish by his lips, nor be brought to fall into
most wicked works.
23:8. A sinner is caught in his own vanity, and the proud and the evil
speakers shall fall thereby.
23:9. Let not thy mouth be accustomed to swearing:  for in it there are
23:10. And let not the naming of God be usual in thy mouth, and meddle
not with the names of saints, for thou shalt not escape free from them.
23:11. For as a slave daily put to the question, is never without a
blue mark:  so every one that sweareth, and nameth, shall not be wholly
pure from sin.
23:12. A man that sweareth much, shall be filled with iniquity, and a
scourge shall not depart from his house.
23:13. And if he make it void, his sin shall be upon him, and if he
dissemble it, he offendeth double:
23:14. And if he swear in vain, he shall not be justified:  for his
house shall be filled with his punishment.
23:15. There is also another speech opposite to death, let it not be
found in the inheritance of Jacob.
23:16. For from the merciful all these things shall be taken away, and
they shall not wallow in sins.
23:17. Let not thy mouth be accustomed to indiscreet speech:  for
therein is the word of sin.
23:18. Remember thy father and thy mother, for thou sittest in the
midst of great men:
23:19. Lest God forget thee in their sight, and thou, by thy daily
custom be infatuated and suffer reproach:  and wish that thou hadst not
been born, and curse the day of thy nativity.
23:20. The man that is accustomed to opprobrious words, will never be
corrected all the days of his life.
23:21. Two sorts of men multiply sins, and the third bringeth wrath and
destruction.
23:22. A hot soul is a burning fire, it will never be quenched, till it
devour some thing.
23:23. And a man that is wicked in the mouth of his flesh, will not
leave off till he hath kindled a fire.
23:24. To a man that is a fornicator all bread is sweet, he will not be
weary of sinning unto the end.
23:25. Every man that passeth beyond his own bed, despising his own
soul, and saying:  Who seeth me?
23:26. Darkness compasseth me about, and the walls cover me, and no man
seeth me:  whom do I fear?  the most High will not remember my sins.
23:27. And he understandeth not that his eye seeth all things, for such
a man's fear driveth him from the fear of God, and the eyes of men
fearing him:
23:28. And he knoweth not that the eyes of the Lord are far brighter
than the sun, beholding round about all the ways of men, and the bottom
of the deep, and looking into the hearts of men, into the most hidden
23:29. For all things were known to the Lord God, before they were
created:  so also after they were perfected he beholdeth all things.
23:30. This man shall be punished in the streets of the city, and he
shall be chased as a colt:  and where he suspected not, he shall be
23:31. And he shall be in disgrace with all men, because he understood
not the fear of the Lord.
23:32. So every woman also that leaveth her husband, and bringeth in an
heir by another:
23:33. For first she hath been unfaithful to the law of the most High:
and secondly, she hath offended against her husband:  thirdly, she hath
fornicated in adultery, and hath gotten her children of another man.
23:34. This woman shall be brought into the assembly, and inquisition
shall be made of her children.
23:35. Her children shall not take root, and her branches shall bring
forth no fruit.
23:36. She shall leave her memory to be cursed, and her infamy shall
not be blotted out.
23:37. And they that remain shall know, that there is nothing better
than the fear of God:  and that there is nothing sweeter than to have
regard to the commandments of the Lord.
23:38. It is great glory to follow the Lord:  for length of days shall
be received from him.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 24
Wisdom praiseth herself:  her origin, her dwelling, her dignity, and her
24:1. Wisdom shall praise her own self, and shall be honoured in God,
and shall glory in the midst of her people,
24:2. And shall open her mouth in the churches of the most High, and
shall glorify herself in the sight of his power,
24:3. And in the midst of her own people she shall be exalted, and
shall be admired in the holy assembly.
24:4. And in the multitude of the elect she shall have praise, and
among the blessed she shall be blessed, saying:
24:5. I came out of the mouth of the most High, the firstborn before
all creatures:
24:6. I made that in the heavens there should rise light that never
faileth, and as a cloud I covered all the earth:
24:7. I dwelt in the highest places, and my throne is in a pillar of a
24:8. I alone have compassed the circuit of heaven, and have penetrated
into the bottom of the deep, and have walked in the waves of the sea,
24:9. And have stood in all the earth:  and in every people,
24:10. And in every nation I have had the chief rule:
24:11. And by my power I have trodden under my feet the hearts of all
the high and low:  and in all these I sought rest, and I shall abide in
the inheritance of the Lord.
24:12. Then the creator of all things commanded, and said to me:  and he
that made me, rested in my tabernacle,
24:13. And he said to me:  Let thy dwelling be in Jacob, and thy
inheritance in Israel, and take root in my elect.
24:14. From the beginning, and before the world, was I created, and
unto the world to come I shall not cease to be, and in the holy
dwelling place I have ministered before him.
24:15. And so was I established in Sion, and in the holy city likewise
I rested, and my power was in Jerusalem.
24:16. And I took root in an honourable people, and in the portion of
my God his inheritance, and my abode is in the full assembly of saints.
24:17. I was exalted like a cedar in Libanus, and as a cypress tree on
24:18. I was exalted like a palm tree in Cades, and as a rose plant in
24:19. As a fair olive tree in the plains, and as a plane tree by the
water in the streets, was I exalted.
24:20. I gave a sweet smell like cinnamon, and aromatical balm:  I
yielded a sweet odour like the best myrrh:
24:21. And I perfumed my dwelling as storax, and galbanum, and onyx,
and aloes, and as the frankincense not cut, and my odour is as the
purest balm.
24:22. I have stretched out my branches as the turpentine tree, and my
branches are of honour and grace.
24:23. As the vine I have brought forth a pleasant odour:  and my
flowers are the fruit of honour and riches.
24:24. I am the mother of fair love, and of fear, and of knowledge, and
of holy hope.
24:25. In me is all grace of the way and of the truth, in me is all
hope of life and of virtue.
24:26. Come over to me, all ye that desire me, and be filled with my
24:27. For my spirit is sweet above honey, and my inheritance above
honey and the honeycomb.
24:28. My memory is unto everlasting generations.
24:29. They that eat me, shall yet hunger:  and they that drink me,
shall yet thirst.
24:30. He that hearkeneth to me, shall not be confounded:  and they that
work by me, shall not sin.
24:31. They that explain me shall have life everlasting.
24:32. All these things are the book of life, and the covenant of the
most High, and the knowledge of truth.
24:33. Moses commanded a law in the precepts of justices, and an
inheritance to the house of Jacob, and the promises to Israel.
24:34. He appointed to David his servant to raise up of him a most
mighty king, and sitting on the throne of glory for ever.
A most mighty king. . .Viz., Christ, who by his gospel, like an
overflowing river, has enriched the earth with heavenly wisdom.
24:35. Who filleth up wisdom as the Phison, and as the Tigris in the
days of the new fruits.
24:36. Who maketh understanding to abound as the Euphrates, who
multiplieth it as the Jordan in the time of harvest.
24:37. Who sendeth knowledge as the light, and riseth up as Gehon in
the time of the vintage.
24:38. Who first hath perfect knowledge of her, and a weaker shall not
search her out.
Who first hath perfect knowledge of her. . .Christ was the first that
had perfect knowledge of heavenly wisdom.
24:39. For her thoughts are more vast than the sea, and her counsels
more deep than the great ocean.
24:40. I, wisdom, have poured out rivers.
24:41. I, like a brook out of a river of a mighty water; I, like a
channel of a river, and like an aqueduct, came out of paradise.
24:42. I said:  I will water my garden of plants, and I will water
abundantly the fruits of my meadow.
24:43. And behold my brook became a great river, and my river came near
24:44. For I make doctrine to shine forth to all as the morning light,
and I will declare it afar off.
24:45. I will penetrate to all the lower parts of the earth, and will
behold all that sleep, and will enlighten all that hope in the Lord.
24:46. I will yet pour out doctrine as prophecy, and will leave it to
them that seek wisdom, and will not cease to instruct their offspring
even to the holy age.
24:47. See ye that I have not laboured myself only, but for all that
seek out the truth.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 25
Documents of wisdom on several subjects.
25:1. With three things my spirit is pleased, which are approved before
God and men:
25:2. The concord of brethren, and the love of neighbours, and man and
wife that agree well together.
25:3. Three sorts my soul hateth, and I am greatly grieved at their
25:4. A poor man that is proud:  a rich man that is a liar:  an old man
that is a fool, and doting.
25:5. The things that thou hast not gathered in thy youth, how shalt
thou find them in thy old age?
25:6. O how comely is judgment for a grey head, and for ancients to
know counsel!
25:7. O how comely is wisdom for the aged, and understanding and
counsel to men of honour!
25:8. Much experience is the crown of old men, and the fear of God is
their glory.
25:9. Nine things that are not to be imagined by the heart have I
magnified, and the tenth I will utter to men with my tongue.
25:10. A man that hath joy of his children:  and he that liveth and
seeth the fall of his enemies.
25:11. Blessed is he that dwelleth with a wise woman, and that hath not
slipped with his tongue, and that hath not served such as are unworthy
25:12. Blessed is he that findeth a true friend, and that declareth
justice to an ear that heareth.
25:13. How great is he that findeth wisdom and knowledge! but there is
none above him that feareth the Lord.
25:14. The fear of God hath set itself above all things:
25:15. Blessed is the man, to whom it is given to have the fear of God:
he that holdeth it, to whom shall he be likened?
25:16. The fear of God is the beginning of his love:  and the beginning
of faith is to be fast joined unto it.
25:17. The sadness of the heart is every plague:  and the wickedness of
a woman is all evil.
25:18. And a man will choose any plague, but the plague of the heart:
25:19. And any wickedness, but the wickedness of a woman:
25:20. And any affliction, but the affliction from them that hate him:
25:21. And any revenge, but the revenge of enemies.
25:22. There is no head worse than the head of a serpent:
25:23. And there is no anger above the anger of a woman.  It will be
more agreeable to abide with a lion and a dragon, than to dwell with a
wicked woman.
25:24. The wickedness of a woman changeth her face:  and she darkeneth
her countenance as a bear:  and sheweth it like sackcloth.  In the midst
of her neighbours,
25:25. Her husband groaned, and hearing he sighed a little.
25:26. All malice is short to the malice of a woman, let the lot of
sinners fall upon her.
25:27. As the climbing of a sandy way is to the feet of the aged, so is
a wife full of tongue to a quiet man.
25:28. Look not upon a woman's beauty, and desire not a woman for
25:29. A woman's anger, and impudence, and confusion is great.
25:30. A woman, if she have superiority, is contrary to her husband.
25:31. A wicked woman abateth the courage, and maketh a heavy
countenance, and a wounded heart.
25:32. Feeble hands, and disjointed knees, a woman that doth not make
her husband happy.
25:33. From the woman came the beginning of sin, and by her we all die.
25:34. Give no issue to thy water, no, not a little:  nor to a wicked
woman liberty to gad abroad.
25:35. If she walk not at thy hand, she will confound thee in the sight
of thy enemies.
25:36. Cut her off from thy flesh, lest she always abuse thee.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 26
Of good and bad women.
26:1. Happy is the husband of a good wife:  for the number of his years
26:2. A virtuous woman rejoiceth her husband, and shall fulfil the
years of his life in peace.
26:3. A good wife is a good portion, she shall be given in the portion
of them that fear God, to a man for his good deeds.
26:4. Rich or poor, if his heart is good, his countenance shall be
cheerful at all times.
26:5. Of three things my heart hath been afraid, and at the fourth my
face hath trembled:
26:6. The accusation of a city, and the gathering together of the
26:7. And a false calumny, all are more grievous than death.
26:8. A jealous woman is the grief and mourning of the heart.
26:9. With a jealous woman is a scourge of the tongue which
communicateth with all.
26:10. As a yoke of oxen that is moved to and fro, so also is a wicked
woman:  he that hath hold of her, is as he that taketh hold of a
26:11. A drunken woman is a great wrath:  and her reproach and shame
shall not be hid.
26:12. The fornication of a woman shall be known by the haughtiness of
her eyes and by her eyelids.
26:13. On a daughter that turneth not away herself, set a strict watch:
lest finding an opportunity she abuse herself.
26:14. Take heed of the impudence of her eyes, and wonder not if she
slight thee.
26:15. She will open her mouth as a thirsty traveller to the fountain,
and will drink of every water near her, and will sit down by every
hedge, and open her quiver against every arrow, until she fail.
26:16. The grace of a diligent woman shall delight her husband, and
shall fat his bones.
26:17. Her discipline is the gift of God.
26:18. Such is a wise and silent woman, and there is nothing so much
worth as a well instructed soul.
26:19. A holy and shamefaced woman is grace upon grace.
26:20. And no price is worthy of a continent soul.
26:21. As the sun when it riseth to the world in the high places of
God, so is the beauty of a good wife for the ornament of her house.
26:22. As the lamp shining upon the holy candlestick, so is the beauty
of the face in a ripe age,
26:23. As golden pillars upon bases of silver, so are the firm feet
upon the soles of a steady woman.
26:24. As everlasting foundations upon a solid rock, so the
commandments of God in the heart of a holy woman.
26:25. At two things my heart is grieved, and the third bringeth anger
26:26. A man of war fainting through poverty, and a man of sense
26:27. And he that passeth over from justice to sin, God hath prepared
such an one for the sword.
26:28. Two sorts of callings have appeared to me hard and dangerous:  a
merchant is hardly free from negligence:  and a huckster shall not be
justified from the sins of the lips.
From negligence. . .That is, from the neglect of the service of God:
because the eager pursuit of the mammon of this world, is apt to make
men of that calling forget the great duties of loving God above all
things, and their neighbours as themselves.--Ibid.  A huckster. . .Or, a
retailer of wine.  Men of that profession are both greatly exposed to
danger of sin themselves, and are too often accessary to the sins of
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 27
Dangers of sin from several heads:  the fear of God is the best
preservative.  He that diggeth a pit, shall fall into it.
27:1. Through poverty many have sinned:  and he that seeketh to be
enriched, turneth away his eye.
27:2. As a stake sticketh fast in the midst of the joining of stones,
so also in the midst of selling and buying, sin shall stick fast.
27:3. Sin shall be destroyed with the sinner.
27:4. Unless thou hold thyself diligently in the fear of the Lord, thy
house shall quickly be overthrown.
27:5. As when one sifteth with a sieve, the dust will remain:  so will
the perplexity of a man in his thoughts.
27:6. The furnace trieth the potter's vessels, and the trial of
affliction just men.
27:7. As the dressing of a tree sheweth the fruit thereof, so a word
out of the thought of the heart of man.
27:8. Praise not a man before he speaketh, for this is the trial of
27:9. If thou followest justice, thou shalt obtain her:  and shalt put
her on as a long robe of honour, and thou shalt dwell with her:  and she
shall protect thee for ever, and in the day of acknowledgment thou
shalt find a strong foundation.
27:10. Birds resort unto their like:  so truth will return to them that
practise her.
27:11. The lion always lieth in wait for prey:  so do sins for them that
work iniquities.
27:12. A holy man continueth in wisdom as the sun:  but a fool is
changed as the moon.
27:13. In the midst of the unwise keep in the word till its time:  but
be continually among men that think.
27:14. The discourse of sinners is hateful, and their laughter is at
the pleasures of sin.
27:15. The speech that sweareth much shall make the hair of the head
stand upright:  and its irreverence shall make one stop his ears.
27:16. In the quarrels of the road is the shedding of blood:  and their
cursing is a grievous hearing.
27:17. He that discloseth the secret of a friend loseth his credit, and
shall never find a friend to his mind.
27:18. Love thy neighbour, and be joined to him with fidelity.
27:19. But if thou discover his secrets, follow no more after him.
27:20. For as a man that destroyeth his friend, so is he that
destroyeth the friendship of his neighbour.
27:21. And as one that letteth a bird go out of his hand, so hast thou
let thy neighbour go, and thou shalt not get him again.
27:22. Follow after him no more, for he is gone afar off, he is fled,
as a roe escaped out of the snare because his soul is wounded.
27:23. Thou canst no more bind him up.  And of a curse there is
reconciliation:
And of a curse there is reconciliation. . .That is, it is easier to
obtain a reconciliation after a curse, than after disclosing a secret.
27:24. But to disclose the secrets of a friend, leaveth no hope to an
unhappy soul.
27:25. He that winketh with the eye forgeth wicked things, and no man
will cast him off:
27:26. In the sight of thy eyes he will sweeten his mouth, and will
admire thy words:  but at the last he will writhe his mouth, and on thy
words he will lay a stumblingblock.
27:27. I have hated many things but not like him, and the Lord will
27:28. If one cast a stone on high, it will fall upon his own head:  and
the deceitful stroke will wound the deceitful.
27:29. He that diggeth a pit, shall fall into it:  and he that setteth a
stone for his neighbour, shall stumble upon it:  and he that layeth a
snare for another, shall perish in it.
27:30. A mischievous counsel shall be rolled back upon the author, and
he shall not know from whence it cometh to him.
27:31. Mockery and reproach are of the proud, and vengeance as a lion
shall lie in wait for him.
27:32. They shall perish in a snare that are delighted with the fall of
the just:  and sorrow shall consume them before they die.
27:33. Anger and fury are both of them abominable, and the sinful man
shall be subject to them.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 28
Lessons against revenge and quarrels.  The evils of the tongue.
28:1. He that seeketh to revenge himself, shall find vengeance from the
Lord, and he will surely keep his sins in remembrance.
28:2. Forgive thy neighbour if he hath hurt thee:  and then shall thy
sins be forgiven to thee when thou prayest.
28:3. Man to man reserveth anger, and doth he seek remedy of God?
28:4. He hath no mercy on a man like himself, and doth he entreat for
his own sins?
28:5. He that is but flesh, nourisheth anger, and doth he ask
forgiveness of God?  who shall obtain pardon for his sins?
28:6. Remember thy last things, and let enmity cease:
28:7. For corruption and death hang over in his commandments.
In his commandments. . .Supply the sentence out of the Greek thus:
Remember corruption and death, and abide in the commandments.
28:8. Remember the fear of God, and be not angry with thy neighbour.
28:9. Remember the covenant of the most High, and overlook the
ignorance of thy neighbour.
28:10. Refrain from strife, and thou shalt diminish thy sins.
28:11. For a passionate man kindleth strife, and a sinful man will
trouble his friends, and bring in debate in the midst of them that are
28:12. For as the wood of the forest is, so the fire burneth, and as a
man's strength is, so shall his anger be, and according to his riches
he shall increase his anger.
28:13. A hasty contention kindleth a fire and a hasty quarrel sheddeth
blood and a tongue that beareth witness bringeth death.
28:14. If thou blow the spark, it shall burn as a fire:  and if thou
spit upon it, it shall be quenched:  both come out of the mouth.
28:15. The whisperer and the double tongue is accursed:  for he hath
troubled many that were at peace.
28:16. The tongue of a third person hath disquieted many, and scattered
them from nation to nation.
28:17. It hath destroyed the strong cities of the rich, and hath
overthrown the houses of great men.
28:18. It hath cut in pieces the forces of people, and undone strong
28:19. The tongue of a third person hath cast out valiant women, and
deprived them of their labours.
28:20. He that hearkeneth to it, shall never have rest, neither shall
he have a friend in whom he may repose.
28:21. The stroke of a whip maketh a blue mark:  but the stroke of the
tongue will break the bones.
28:22. Many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but not so many as
have perished by their own tongue.
28:23. Blessed is he that is defended from a wicked tongue, that hath
not passed into the wrath thereof, and that hath not drawn the yoke
thereof, and hath not been bound in its bands.
28:24. For its yoke is a yoke of iron:  and its bands are bands of
28:25. The death thereof is a most evil death:  and hell is preferable
28:26. Its continuance shall not be for a long time, but it shall
possess the ways of the unjust:  and the just shall not be burnt with
28:27. They that forsake God shall fall into it, and it shall burn in
them, and shall not be quenched, and it shall be sent upon them as a
lion, and as a leopard it shall tear them.
28:28. Hedge in thy ears with thorns, hear not a wicked tongue, and
make doors and bars to thy mouth.
28:29. Melt down thy gold and silver, and make a balance for thy words,
and a just bridle for thy mouth:
28:30. And take heed lest thou slip with thy tongue, and fall in the
sight of thy enemies who lie in wait for thee, and thy fall be
incurable unto death.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 29
Of charity in lending money, and justice in repaying.  Of alms, and of
being surety.
29:1. He that sheweth mercy, lendeth to his neighbour:  and he that is
stronger in hand, keepeth the commandments.
And he that is stronger in hand. . .That is, he that is hearty and
bountiful in lending to his neighbour in his necessity.
29:2. Lend to thy neighbour in the time of his need, and pay thou thy
neighbour again in due time.
29:3. Keep thy word, and deal faithfully with him:  and thou shalt
always find that which is necessary for thee.
29:4. Many have looked upon a thing lent as a thing found, and have
given trouble to them that helped them.
29:5. Till they receive, they kiss the hands of the lender, and in
promises they humble their voice:
29:6. But when they should repay, they will ask time, and will return
tedious and murmuring words, and will complain of the time:
29:7. And if he be able to pay, he will stand off, he will scarce pay
one half, and will count it as if he had found it:
29:8. But if not, he will defraud him of his money, and he shall get
him for an enemy without cause.
29:9. And he will pay him with reproaches and curses, and instead of
honour and good turn will repay him injuries.
29:10. Many have refused to lend, not out of wickedness, but they were
afraid to be defrauded without cause.
29:11. But yet towards the poor be thou more hearty, and delay not to
shew him mercy.
29:12. Help the poor because of the commandment:  and send him not away
empty handed because of his poverty.
29:13. Lose thy money for thy brother and thy friend:  and hide it not
under a stone to be lost.
29:14. Place thy treasure in the commandments of the most High, and it
shall bring thee more profit than gold.
29:15. Shut up alms in the heart of the poor, and it shall obtain help
for thee against all evil.
29:16. Better than the shield of the mighty, and better than the spear:
29:17. It shall fight for thee against thy enemy.
29:18. A good man is surety for his neighbour:  and he that hath lost
shame, will leave him to himself.
29:19. Forget not the kindness of thy surety:  for he hath given his
life for thee.
29:20. The sinner and the unclean fleeth from his surety.
29:21. A sinner attributeth to himself the goods of his surety:  and he
that is of an unthankful mind will leave him that delivered him.
29:22. A man is surety for his neighbour:  and when he hath lost all
shame, he shall forsake him.
29:23. Evil suretyship hath undone many of good estate, and hath tossed
them as a wave of the sea.
29:24. It hath made powerful men to go from place to place round about,
and they have wandered in strange countries.
29:25. A sinner that transgresseth the commandment of the Lord, shall
fall into an evil suretyship:  and he that undertaketh many things,
shall fall into judgment.
29:26. Recover thy neighbour according to thy power, and take heed to
thyself that thou fall not.
29:27. The chief thing for man's life is water and bread, and clothing,
and a house to cover shame.
29:28. Better is the poor man's fare under a roof of boards, than
sumptuous cheer abroad in another man's house.
29:29. Be contented with little instead of much, and thou shalt not
hear the reproach of going abroad.
29:30. It is a miserable life to go as a guest from house to house:  for
where a man is a stranger, he shall not deal confidently, nor open his
29:31. He shall entertain and feed, and give drink to the unthankful,
and moreover he shall hear bitter words.
29:32. Go, stranger, and furnish the table, and give others to eat what
thou hast in thy hand.
29:33. Give place to the honourable presence of my friends:  for I want
my house, my brother being to be lodged with me.
29:34. These things are grievous to a man of understanding:  the
upbraiding of houseroom, and the reproaching of the lender.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 30
Of correction of children.  Health is better than wealth.  Excessive
grief is hurtful.
30:1. He that loveth his son, frequently chastiseth him, that he may
rejoice in his latter end, and not grope after the doors of his
30:2. He that instructeth his son shall be praised in him, and shall
glory in him in the midst of them of his household.
30:3. He that teacheth his son, maketh his enemy jealous, and in the
midst of his friends he shall glory in him.
30:4. His father is dead, and he is as if he were not dead:  for he hath
left one behind him that is like himself.
30:5. While he lived he saw and rejoiced in him:  and when he died he
was not sorrowful, neither was he confounded before his enemies.
30:6. For he left behind him a defender of his house against his
enemies, and one that will requite kindness to his friends.
30:7. For the souls of his sons he shall bind up his wounds, and at
every cry his bowels shall be troubled.
30:8. A horse not broken becometh stubborn, and a child left to himself
will become headstrong.
30:9. Give thy son his way, and he shall make thee afraid:  play with
him, and he shall make thee sorrowful.
30:10. Laugh not with him, lest thou have sorrow, and at the last thy
teeth be set on edge.
30:11. Give him not liberty in his youth, and wink not at his devices.
30:12. Bow down his neck while he is young, and beat his sides while he
is a child, lest he grow stubborn, and regard thee not, and so be a
sorrow of heart to thee.
30:13. Instruct thy son, and labour about him, lest his lewd behaviour
be an offence to thee.
30:14. Better is a poor man who is sound, and strong of constitution,
than a rich man who is weak and afflicted with evils.
30:15. Health of the soul in holiness of justice, is better than all
gold and silver:  and a sound body, than immense revenues.
30:16. There is no riches above the riches of the health of the body:
and there is no pleasure above the joy of the heart.
30:17. Better is death than a bitter life, and everlasting rest, than
continual sickness.
30:18. Good things that are hidden in a mouth that is shut, are as
messes of meat set about a grave.
30:19. What good shall an offering do to an idol?  for it can neither
eat, nor smell:
30:20. So is he that is persecuted by the Lord, bearing the reward of
his iniquity:
30:21. He seeth with his eyes, and groaneth, as an eunuch embracing a
virgin, and sighing.
30:22. Give not up thy soul to sadness, and afflict not thyself in thy
own counsel.
30:23. The joyfulness of the heart, is the life of a man, and a never
failing treasure of holiness:  and the joy of a man is length of life.
30:24. Have pity on thy own soul, pleasing God, and contain thyself:
gather up thy heart in his holiness:  and drive away sadness far from
30:25. For sadness hath killed many, and there is no profit in it.
30:26. Envy and anger shorten a man's days, and pensiveness will bring
old age before the time.
30:27. A cheerful and good heart is always feasting:  for his banquets
are prepared with diligence.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 31
Of the desire of riches, and of moderation in eating and drinking.
31:1. Watching for riches consumeth the flesh, and the thought thereof
driveth away sleep.
31:2. The thinking beforehand turneth away the understanding, and a
grievous sickness maketh the soul sober.
31:3. The rich man hath laboured in gathering riches together, and when
he resteth he shall be filled with his goods.
31:4. The poor man hath laboured in his low way of life, and in the end
he is still poor.
31:5. He that loveth gold, shall not be justified:  and he that
followeth after corruption, shall be filled with it.
31:6. Many have been brought to fall for gold, and the beauty thereof
hath been their ruin.
31:7. Gold is a stumblingblock to them that sacrifice to it:  woe to
them that eagerly follow after it, and every fool shall perish by it.
31:8. Blessed is the rich man that is found without blemish:  and that
hath not gone after gold, nor put his trust in money nor in treasures.
31:9. Who is he, and we will praise him?  for he hath done wonderful
things in his life.
31:10. Who hath been tried thereby, and made perfect, he shall have
glory everlasting.  He that could have transgressed, and hath not
transgressed:  and could do evil things, and hath not done them:
31:11. Therefore are his goods established in the Lord, and all the
church of the saints shall declare his alms.
31:12. Art thou set at a great table?  be not the first to open thy
mouth upon it.
31:13. Say not:  There are many things which are upon it.
31:14. Remember that a wicked eye is evil.
31:15. What is created more wicked than an eye?  therefore shall it weep
over all the face when it shall see.
31:16. Stretch not out thy hand first, lest being disgraced with envy
thou be put to confusion.
31:17. Be not hasty in a feast.
31:18. Judge of the disposition of thy neighbour by thyself.
31:19. Use as a frugal man the things that are set before thee:  lest if
thou eatest much, thou be hated.
31:20. Leave off first, for manners' sake:  and exceed not, lest thou
31:21. And if thou sittest among many, reach not thy hand out first of
all, and be not the first to ask for drink.
31:22. How sufficient is a little wine for a man well taught, and in
sleeping thou shalt not be uneasy with it, and thou shalt feel no pain.
31:23. Watching, and choler, and gripes, are with an intemperate man:
31:24. Sound and wholesome sleep with a moderate man:  he shall sleep
till morning, and his soul shall be delighted with him.
31:25. And if thou hast been forced to eat much, arise, go out, and
vomit:  and it shall refresh thee, and thou shalt not bring sickness
upon thy body.
31:26. Hear me, my son, and despise me not:  and in the end thou shalt
find my words.
31:27. In all thy works be quick, and no infirmity shall come to thee.
31:28. The lips of many shall bless him that is liberal of his bread,
and the testimony of his truth is faithful.
31:29. Against him that is niggardly of his bread, the city will
murmur, and the testimony of his niggardliness is true.
31:30. Challenge not them that love wine:  for wine hath destroyed very
31:31. Fire trieth hard iron:  so wine drunk to excess shall rebuke the
hearts of the proud.
31:32. Wine taken with sobriety is equal life to men:  if thou drink it
moderately, thou shalt be sober.
31:33. What is his life, who is diminished with wine?
31:34. What taketh away life?  death.
31:35. Wine was created from the beginning to make men joyful, and not
to make them drunk.
31:36. Wine drunken with moderation is the joy of the soul and the
31:37. Sober drinking is health to soul and body.
31:38. Wine drunken with excess raiseth quarrels, and wrath, and many
31:39. Wine drunken with excess is bitterness of the soul.
31:40. The heat of drunkenness is the stumblingblock of the fool,
lessening strength and causing wounds.
31:41. Rebuke not thy neighbour in a banquet of wine:  and despise him
not in his mirth.
31:42. Speak not to him words of reproach:  and press him not in
demanding again.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 32
Lessons for superiors and inferiors.  Advantages of fearing God, and
doing nothing without counsel.
32:1. Have they made thee ruler?  be not lifted up:  be among them as one
32:2. Have care of them, and so sit down, and when thou hast acquitted
thyself of all thy charge, take thy place:
32:3. That thou mayst rejoice for them, and receive a crown as an
ornament of grace, and get the honour of the contribution.
32:4. Speak, thou that art elder:  for it becometh thee,
32:5. To speak the first word with careful knowledge, and hinder not
32:6. Where there is no hearing, pour not out words, and be not lifted
up out of season with thy wisdom.
32:7. A concert of music in a banquet of wine is as a carbuncle set in
32:8. As a signet of an emerald in a work of gold:  so is the melody of
music with pleasant and moderate wine.
32:9. Hear in silence, and for thy reverence good grace shall come to
32:10. Young man, scarcely speak in thy own cause.
32:11. If thou be asked twice, let thy answer be short.
32:12. In many things be as if thou wert ignorant, and hear in silence
and withal seeking.
32:13. In the company of great men take not upon thee:  and when the
ancients are present, speak not much.
32:14. Before a storm goeth lightning:  and before shamefacedness goeth
favour:  and for thy reverence good grace shall come to thee.
32:15. And at the time of rising be not slack:  but be first to run home
to thy house, and there withdraw thyself, and there take thy pastime.
32:16. And do what thou hast a mind, but not in sin or proud speech.
32:17. And for all these things bless the Lord, that made thee, and
that replenisheth thee with all his good things.
32:18. He that feareth the Lord, will receive his discipline:  and they
that will seek him early, shall find a blessing.
32:19. He that seeketh the law, shall be filled with it:  and he that
dealeth deceitfully, shall meet with a stumblingblock therein.
32:20. They that fear the Lord, shall find just judgment, and shall
kindle justice as a light.
32:21. A sinful man will flee reproof, and will find an excuse
according to his will.
32:22. A man of counsel will not neglect understanding, a strange and
proud man will not dread fear:
32:23. Even after he hath done with fear without counsel, he shall be
controlled by the things of his own seeking.
32:24. My son, do thou nothing without counsel, and thou shalt not
repent when thou hast done.
32:25. Go not in the way of ruin, and thou shalt not stumble against
the stones:  trust not thyself to a rugged way, lest thou set a
stumblingblock to thy soul.
32:26. And beware of thy own children, and take heed of them of thy
32:27. In every work of thine regard thy soul in faith:  for this is the
keeping of the commandments.
In faith. . .That is, follow sincerely thy soul in her faith and
32:28. He that believeth God, taketh heed to the commandments:  and he
that trusteth in him, shall fare never the worse.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 33
The fear of God is the best security.  Times and men are in the hands of
God.  Take care of thyself as long as thou livest, and look to thy
33:1. No evils shall happen to him that feareth the Lord, but in
temptation God will keep him and deliver him from evils.
33:2. A wise man hateth not the commandments and justices, and he shall
not be dashed in pieces as a ship in a storm.
33:3. A man of understanding is faithful to the law of God, and the law
is faithful to him.
33:4. He that cleareth up a question, shall prepare what to say, and so
having prayed he shall be heard, and shall keep discipline, and then he
shall answer.
33:5. The heart of a fool is as a wheel of a cart:  and his thoughts are
like a rolling axletree.
33:6. A friend that is a mocker, is like a stallion horse:  he neigheth
under every one that sitteth upon him.
33:7. Why doth one day excel another, and one light another, and one
year another year, when all come of the sun?
33:8. By the knowledge of the Lord they were distinguished, the sun
being made, and keeping his commandment.
33:9. And he ordered the seasons, and holidays of them, and in them
they celebrated festivals at an hour.
33:10. Some of them God made high and great days, and some of them he
put in the number of ordinary days.  And all men are from the ground,
and out of the earth, from whence Adam was created.
33:11. With much knowledge the Lord hath divided them and diversified
33:12. Some of them hath he blessed, and exalted:  and some of them hath
he sanctified, and set near himself:  and some of them hath he cursed
and brought low, and turned them from their station.
33:13. As the potter's clay is in his hand, to fashion and order it:
33:14. All his ways are according to his ordering:  so man is in the
hand of him that made him, and he will render to him according to his
33:15. Good is set against evil, and life against death:  so also is the
sinner against a just man.  And so look upon all the works of the most
High.  Two and two, and one against another.
33:16. And I awaked last of all, and as one that gathereth after the
grapegatherers.
33:17. In the blessing of God I also have hoped:  and as one that
gathereth grapes, have I filled the winepress.
33:18. See that I have not laboured for myself only, but for all that
seek discipline.
33:19. Hear me, ye great men, and all ye people, and hearken with your
ears, ye rulers of the church.
33:20. Give not to son or wife, brother or friend, power over thee
while thou livest; and give not thy estate to another, lest thou
repent, and thou entreat for the same.
33:21. As long as thou livest, and hast breath in thee, let no man
change thee.
Change thee. . .That is, so as to have this power over thee.
33:22. For it is better that thy children should ask of thee, than that
thou look toward the hands of thy children.
33:23. In all thy works keep the pre-eminence.
The pre-eminence. . .That is, be master in thy own house, and part not
with thy authority.
33:24. Let no stain sully thy glory.  In the time when thou shalt end
the days of thy life, and in the time of thy decease, distribute thy
inheritance.
33:25. Fodder, and a wand, and a burden are for an ass:  bread, and
correction, and work for a slave.
33:26. He worketh under correction, and seeketh to rest:  let his hands
be idle, and he seeketh liberty.
33:27. The yoke and the thong bend a stiff neck, and continual labours
bow a slave.
33:28. Torture and fetters are for a malicious slave:  send him to work,
that he be not idle:
33:29. For idleness hath taught much evil.
33:30. Set him to work:  for so it is fit for him.  And if he be not
obedient, bring him down with fetters, but be not excessive towards any
one, and do no grievous thing without judgment.
33:31. If thou have a faithful servant, let him be to thee as thy own
soul:  treat him as a brother:  because in the blood of thy soul thou
hast gotten him.
33:32. If thou hurt him unjustly, he will run away:
33:33. And if he rise up and depart, thou knowest not whom to ask, and
in what way to seek him.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 34
The vanity of dreams.  The advantage of experience, and of the fear of
34:1. The hopes of a man that is void of understanding are vain and
deceitful:  and dreams lift up fools.
34:2. The man that giveth heed to lying visions, is like to him that
catcheth at a shadow, and followeth after the wind.
34:3. The vision of dreams is the resemblance of one thing to another:
as when a man's likeness is before the face of a man.
34:4. What can be made clean by the unclean?  and what truth can come
from that which is false?
34:5. Deceitful divinations and lying omens and the dreams of
evildoers, are vanity:
34:6. And the heart fancieth as that of a woman in travail:  except it
be a vision sent forth from the most High, set not thy heart upon them.
34:7. For dreams have deceived many, and they have failed that put
their trust in them.
34:8. The word of the law shall be fulfilled without a lie, and wisdom
shall be made plain in the mouth of the faithful.
34:9. What doth he know, that hath not been tried?  A man that hath much
experience, shall think of many things:  and he that hath learned many
things, shall shew forth understanding.
34:10. He that hath no experience, knoweth little:  and he that hath
been experienced in many things, multiplieth prudence.
34:11. He that hath not been tried, what manner of things doth he know?
he that hath been surprised, shall abound with subtlety.
34:12. I have seen many things by travelling, and many customs of
34:13. Sometimes I have been in danger of death for these things, and I
have been delivered by the grace of God.
34:14. The spirit of those that fear God, is sought after, and by his
regard shall be blessed.
34:15. For their hope is on him that saveth them, and the eyes of God
are upon them that love him.
34:16. He that feareth the Lord shall tremble at nothing, and shall not
be afraid:  for he is his hope.
34:17. The soul of him that feareth the Lord is blessed.
34:18. To whom doth he look, and who is his strength?
34:19. The eyes of the Lord are upon them that fear him, he is their
powerful protector, and strong stay, a defence from the heat, and a
cover from the sun at noon,
34:20. A preservation from stumbling, and a help from falling:  he
raiseth up the soul, and enlighteneth the eyes, and giveth health, and
life, and blessing.
34:21. The offering of him that sacrificeth of a thing wrongfully
gotten, is stained, and the mockeries of the unjust are not acceptable.
34:22. The Lord is only for them that wait upon him in the way of truth
and justice.
34:23. The most High approveth not the gifts of the wicked:  neither
hath he respect to the oblations of the unjust, nor will he be pacified
for sins by the multitude of their sacrifices.
34:24. He that offereth sacrifice of the goods of the poor, is as one
that sacrificeth the son in the presence of his father.
34:25. The bread of the needy, is the life of the poor:  he that
defraudeth them thereof, is a man of blood.
34:26. He that taketh away the bread gotten by sweat, is like him that
killeth his neighbour.
34:27. He that sheddeth blood, and he that defraudeth the laborer of
his hire, are brothers.
34:28. When one buildeth up, and another pulleth down:  what profit have
they but the labour?
34:29. When one prayeth, and another curseth:  whose voice will God
34:30. He that washeth himself after touching the dead, if he toucheth
him again, what doth his washing avail?
34:31. So a man that fasteth for his sins, and doth the same again,
what doth his humbling himself profit him?  who will hear his prayer?
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 35
What sacrifices are pleasing to God.
35:1. He that keepeth the law, multiplieth offerings.
35:2. It is a wholesome sacrifice to take heed to the commandments, and
to depart from all iniquity.
35:3. And to depart from injustice, is to offer a propitiatory
sacrifice for injustices, and a begging of pardon for sins.
35:4. He shall return thanks, that offereth fine flour:  and he that
doth mercy, offereth sacrifice.
35:5. To depart from iniquity is that which pleaseth the Lord, and to
depart from injustice, is an entreaty for sins.
35:6. Thou shalt not appear empty in the sight of the Lord.
35:7. For all these things are to be done because of the commandment of
35:8. The oblation of the just maketh the altar fat, and is an odour of
sweetness in the sight of the most High.
35:9. The sacrifice of the just is acceptable, and the Lord will not
forget the memorial thereof.
35:10. Give glory to God with a good heart:  and diminish not the
firstfruits of thy hands.
35:11. In every gift shew a cheerful countenance, and sanctify thy
tithes with joy.
35:12. Give to the most High according to what he hath given to thee,
and with a good eye do according to the ability of thy hands:
35:13. For the Lord maketh recompense, and will give thee seven times
35:14. Do not offer wicked gifts, for such he will not receive.
35:15. And look not upon an unjust sacrifice, for the Lord is judge,
and there is not with him respect of person.
35:16. The Lord will not accept any person against a poor man, and he
will hear the prayer of him that is wronged.
35:17. He will not despise the prayers of the fatherless:  nor the
widow, when she poureth out her complaint.
35:18. Do not the widow's tears run down the cheek, and her cry against
him that causeth them to fall?
35:19. For from the cheek they go up even to heaven, and the Lord that
heareth will not be delighted with them.
35:20. He that adoreth God with joy, shall be accepted, and his prayer
shall approach even to the clouds.
35:21. The prayer of him that humbleth himself, shall pierce the
clouds:  and till it come nigh he will not be comforted:  and he will not
depart till the most High behold.
35:22. And the Lord will not be slack, but will judge for the just, and
will do judgment:  and the Almighty will not have patience with them,
that he may crush their back:
35:23. And he will repay vengeance to the Gentiles, till he have taken
away the multitude of the proud, and broken the sceptres of the unjust,
35:24. Till he have rendered to men according to their deeds:  and
according to the works of Adam, and according to his presumption,
35:25. Till he have judged the cause of his people, and he shall
delight the just with his mercy.
35:26. The mercy of God is beautiful in the time of affliction, as a
cloud of rain in the time of drought.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 36
A prayer for the church of God.  Of a good heart, and a good wife.
36:1. Have mercy upon us, O God of all, and behold us, and shew us the
light of thy mercies:
36:2. And send thy fear upon the nations, that have not sought after
thee:  that they may know that there is no God beside thee, and that
they may shew forth thy wonders.
36:3. Lift up thy hand over the strange nations, that they may see thy
36:4. For as thou hast been sanctified in us in their sight, so thou
shalt be magnified among them in our presence,
36:5. That they may know thee, as we also have known thee, that there
is no God beside thee, O Lord.
36:6. Renew thy signs, and work new miracles.
36:7. Glorify thy hand, and thy right arm.
36:8. Raise up indignation, and pour out wrath.
36:9. Take away the adversary, and crush the enemy.
36:10. Hasten the time, and remember the end, that they may declare thy
wonderful works.
36:11. Let him that escapeth be consumed by the rage of the fire:  and
let them perish that oppress thy people.
36:12. Crush the head of the princes of the enemies that say:  There is
no other beside us.
36:13. Gather together all the tribes of Jacob:  that they may know that
there no God besides thee, and may declare thy great works:  and thou
shalt inherit them as from the beginning.
36:14. Have mercy on thy people, upon whom thy name is invoked:  and
upon Israel, whom thou hast raised up to be thy firstborn.
36:15. Have mercy on Jerusalem, the city which thou hast sanctified,
the city of thy rest.
36:16. Fill Sion with thy unspeakable words, and thy people with thy
36:17. Give testimony to them that are thy creatures from the
beginning, and raise up the prophecies which the former prophets spoke
in thy name.
36:18. Reward them that patiently wait for thee, that thy prophets may
be found faithful:  and hear the prayers of thy servants,
36:19. According to the blessing of Aaron over thy people, and direct
us into the way of justice, and let all know that dwell upon the earth,
that thou art God the beholder of all ages.
36:20. The belly will devour all meat, yet one is better than another.
36:21. The palate tasteth venison and the wise heart false speeches.
36:22. A perverse heart will cause grief, and a man of experience will
36:23. A woman will receive every man:  yet one daughter is better than
A woman will receive every man. . .That is, any man that her parents
propose to her to marry, though she does not like him, but marries in
obedience to her parents, who make the choice for her.
36:24. The beauty of a woman cheereth the countenance of her husband,
and a man desireth nothing more.
36:25. If she have a tongue that can cure, and likewise mitigate and
shew mercy:  her husband is not like other men.
36:26. He that possesseth a good wife, beginneth a possession:  she is a
help like to himself, and a pillar of rest.
36:27. Where there is no hedge, the possession shall be spoiled:  and
where there is no wife, he mourneth that is in want.
36:28. Who will trust him that hath no rest, and that lodgeth
wheresoever the night taketh him, as a robber well appointed, that
skippeth from city to city.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 37
Of the choice of friends and counsellors.
37:1. Every friend will say:  I also am his friend:  but there is a
friend, that is only a friend in name.  Is not this a grief even to
37:2. But a companion and a friend shall be turned to an enemy.
37:3. O wicked presumption, whence camest thou to cover the earth with
thy malice, and deceitfulness?
37:4. There is a companion who rejoiceth with his friend in his joys,
but in the time of trouble, he will be against him.
37:5. There is a companion who condoleth with his friend for his
belly's sake, and he will take up a shield against the enemy.
37:6. Forget not thy friend in thy mind, and be not unmindful of him in
37:7. Consult not with him that layeth a snare for thee, and hide thy
counsel from them that envy thee.
37:8. Every counsellor giveth out counsel, but there is one that is a
counsellor for himself.
37:9. Beware of a counsellor.  And know before what need he hath:  for he
will devise to his own mind:
37:10. Lest he thrust a stake into the ground, and say to thee:
37:11. Thy way is good; and then stand on the other side to see what
shall befall thee.
37:12. Treat not with a man without religion concerning holiness, nor
with an unjust man concerning justice, nor with a woman touching her of
whom she is jealous, nor with a coward concerning war, nor with a
merchant about traffic, nor with a buyer of selling, nor with an
envious man of giving thanks,
37:13. Nor with the ungodly of piety, nor with the dishonest of
honesty, nor with the field laborer of every work,
37:14. Nor with him that worketh by the year of the finishing of the
year, nor with an idle servant of much business:  give no heed to these
in any matter of counsel.
37:15. But be continually with a holy man, whomsoever thou shalt know
to observe the fear of God,
37:16. Whose soul is according to thy own soul:  and who, when thou
shalt stumble in the dark, will be sorry for thee.
37:17. And establish within thyself a heart of good counsel:  for there
is no other thing of more worth to thee than it.
37:18. The soul of a holy man discovereth sometimes true things, more
than seven watchmen that sit in a high place to watch.
37:19. But above all these things pray to the most High, that he may
direct thy way in truth.
37:20. In all thy works let the true word go before thee, and steady
counsel before every action.
37:21. A wicked word shall change the heart:  out of which four manner
of things arise, good and evil, life and death:  and the tongue is
continually the ruler of them.  There is a man that is subtle and a
teacher of many, and yet is unprofitable to his own soul.
37:22. A skilful man hath taught many, and is sweet to his own soul.
37:23. He that speaketh sophistically, is hateful:  he shall be
destitute of every thing.
37:24. Grace is not given him from the Lord:  for he is deprived of all
37:25. There is a wise man that is wise to his own soul:  and the fruit
of his understanding is commendable.
37:26. A wise man instructeth his own people, and the fruits of his
understanding are faithful.
37:27. A wise man shall be filled with blessings, and they that see
shall praise him.
37:28. The life of a man is in the number of his days:  but the days of
Israel are innumerable.
37:29. A wise man shall inherit honour among his people, and his name
shall live for ever.
37:30. My son, prove thy soul in thy life:  and if it be wicked, give it
37:31. For all things are not expedient for all, and every kind
pleaseth not every soul.
37:32. Be not greedy in any feasting, and pour not out thyself upon any
37:33. For in many meats there will be sickness, and greediness will
turn to choler.
37:34. By surfeiting many have perished, but he that is temperate,
shall prolong life.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 38
Of physicians and medicines:  what is to be done in sickness, and how we
are to mourn for the dead.  Of the employments of labourers and
38:1. Honour the physician for the need thou hast of him:  for the most
High hath created him.
38:2. For all healing is from God, and he shall receive gifts of the
38:3. The skill of the physician shall lift up his head, and in the
sight of great men he shall be praised.
38:4. The most High hath created medicines out of the earth, and a wise
man will not abhor them.
38:5. Was not bitter water made sweet with wood?
38:6. The virtue of these things is come to the knowledge of men, and
the most High hath given knowledge to men, that he may be honoured in
his wonders.
38:7. By these he shall cure and shall allay their pains, and of these
the apothecary shall make sweet confections, and shall make up
ointments of health, and of his works there shall be no end.
38:8. For the peace of God is over all the face of the earth.
38:9. My son, in thy sickness neglect not thyself, but pray to the
Lord, and he shall heal thee.
38:10. Turn away from sin and order thy hands aright, and cleanse thy
heart from all offence.
38:11. Give a sweet savour, and a memorial of fine flour, and make a
fat offering, and then give place to the physician.
38:12. For the Lord created him:  and let him not depart from thee, for
his works are necessary.
38:13. For there is a time when thou must fall into their hands:
38:14. And they shall beseech the Lord, that he would prosper what they
give for ease and remedy, for their conversation.
38:15. He that sinneth in the sight of his Maker, shall fall into the
hands of the physician.
38:16. My son, shed tears over the dead, and begin to lament as if thou
hadst suffered some great harm, and according to judgment cover his
body, and neglect not his burial.
38:17. And for fear of being ill spoken of weep bitterly for a day, and
then comfort thyself in thy sadness.
38:18. And make mourning for him according to his merit for a day, or
two, for fear of detraction.
38:19. For of sadness cometh death, and it overwhelmeth the strength,
and the sorrow of the heart boweth down the neck.
38:20. In withdrawing aside sorrow remaineth:  and the substance of the
poor is according to his heart.
38:21. Give not up thy heart to sadness, but drive it from thee:  and
remember the latter end.
38:22. Forget it not:  for there is no returning, and thou shalt do him
no good, and shalt hurt thyself.
38:23. Remember my judgment:  for thine also shall be so:  yesterday for
me, and to day for thee.
38:24. When the dead is at rest, let his remembrance rest, and comfort
him in the departing of his spirit.
38:25. The wisdom of a scribe cometh by his time of leisure:  and he
that is less in action, shall receive wisdom.
A scribe. . .That is, a doctor of the law, or, a learned man.
38:26. With what wisdom shall he be furnished that holdeth the plough,
and that glorieth in the goad, that driveth the oxen therewith, and is
occupied in their labours, and his whole talk is about the offspring of
38:27. He shall give his mind to turn up furrows, and his care is to
give the kine fodder.
38:28. So every craftsman and workmaster that laboureth night and day,
he who maketh graven seals, and by his continual diligence varieth the
figure:  he shall give his mind to the resemblance of the picture, and
by his watching shall finish the work.
38:29. So doth the smith sitting by the anvil and considering the iron
work.  The vapour of the fire wasteth his flesh, and he fighteth with
the heat of the furnace.
38:30. The noise of the hammer is always in his ears, and his eye is
upon the pattern of the vessel he maketh.
38:31. He setteth his mind to finish his work, and his watching to
polish them to perfection.
38:32. So doth the potter sitting at his work, turning the wheel about
with his feet, who is always carefully set to his work, and maketh all
his work by number:
38:33. He fashioneth the clay with his arm, and boweth down his
strength before his feet:
38:34. He shall give his mind to finish the glazing, and his watching
to make clean the furnace.
38:35. All these trust to their hands, and every one is wise in his own
38:36. Without these a city is not built.
38:37. And they shall not dwell, nor walk about therein, and they shall
not go up into the assembly.
38:38. Upon the judges' seat they shall not sit, and the ordinance of
judgment they shall not understand, neither shall they declare
discipline and judgment, and they shall not be found where parables are
38:39. But they shall strengthen the state of the world, and their
prayer shall be in the work of their craft, applying their soul, and
searching in the law of the most High.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 39
The exercises of the wise man.  The Lord is to be glorified for his
39:1. The wise man will seek out the wisdom of all the ancients, and
will be occupied in the prophets.
39:2. He will keep the sayings of renowned men, and will enter withal
into the subtilties of parables.
39:3. He will search out the hidden meanings of proverbs, and will be
conversant in the secrets of parables.
39:4. He shall serve among great men, and appear before the governor.
39:5. He shall pass into strange countries:  for he shall try good and
evil among men.
39:6. He will give his heart to resort early to the Lord that made him,
and he will pray in the sight of the most High.
39:7. He will open his mouth in prayer, and will make supplication for
39:8. For if it shall please the great Lord, he will fill him with the
spirit of understanding:
39:9. And he will pour forth the words of his wisdom as showers, and in
his prayer he will confess to the Lord.
39:10. And he shall direct his counsel, and his knowledge, and in his
secrets shall he meditate.
39:11. He shall shew forth the discipline he hath learned, and shall
glory in the law of the covenant of the Lord.
39:12. Many shall praise his wisdom, and it shall never be forgotten.
39:13. The memory of him shall not depart away, and his name shall be
in request from generation to generation.
39:14. Nations shall declare his wisdom, and the church shall shew
forth his praise.
39:15. If he continue, he shall leave a name above a thousand:  and if
he rest, it shall be to his advantage.
39:16. I will yet meditate that I may declare:  for I am filled as with
a holy transport.
39:17. By a voice he saith:  Hear me, ye divine offspring, and bud forth
as the rose planted by the brooks of waters.
Ye divine offspring. . .He speaks to the children of Israel, the people
of God:  whom he exhorts to bud forth and flourish with virtue.
39:18. Give ye a sweet odour as frankincense.
39:19. Send forth flowers, as the lily, and yield a smell, and bring
forth leaves in grace, and praise with canticles, and bless the Lord in
39:20. Magnify his name, and give glory to him with the voice of your
lips, and with the canticles of your mouths, and with harps, and in
praising him, you shall say in this manner:
39:21. All the works of the Lord are exceeding good.
39:22. At his word the waters stood as a heap:  and at the words of his
mouth the receptacles of waters:
39:23. For at his commandment favour is shewn, and there is no
diminishing of his salvation.
39:24. The works of all flesh are before him, and there is nothing hid
from his eyes.
39:25. He seeth from eternity to eternity, and there is nothing
wonderful before him.
39:26. There is no saying:  What is this, or what is that?  for all
things shall be sought in their time.
39:27. His blessing hath overflowed like a river.
39:28. And as a flood hath watered the earth; so shall his wrath
inherit the nations, that have not sought after him.
39:29. Even as he turned the waters into a dry land, and the earth was
made dry:  and his ways were made plain for their journey:  so to sinners
they are stumblingblocks in his wrath.
39:30. Good things were created for the good from the beginning, so for
the wicked, good and evil things.
39:31. The principal things necessary for the life of men, are water,
fire, and iron, salt, milk, and bread of flour, and honey, and the
cluster of the grape, and oil, and clothing.
39:32. All these things shall be for good to the holy, so to the
sinners and the ungodly they shall be turned into evil.
39:33. There are spirits that are created for vengeance, and in their
fury they lay on grievous torments.
39:34. In the time of destruction they shall pour out their force:  and
they shall appease the wrath of him that made them.
39:35. Fire, hail, famine, and death, all these were created for
39:36. The teeth of beasts, and scorpions, and serpents, and the sword
taking vengeance upon the ungodly unto destruction.
39:37. In his commandments they shall feast, and they shall be ready
upon earth when need is, and when their time is come they shall not
transgress his word.
39:38. Therefore from the beginning I was resolved, and I have
meditated, and thought on these things and left them in writing,
39:39. All the works of the Lord are good, and he will furnish every
work in due time.
39:40. It is not to be said:  This is worse than that:  for all shall be
well approved in their time.
39:41. Now therefore with the whole heart and mouth praise ye him, and
bless the name of the Lord.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 40
The miseries of the life of man are relieved by the grace of God and
40:1. Great labour is created for all men, and a heavy yoke is upon the
children of Adam from the day of their coming out of their mother's
womb, until the day of their burial into the mother of all.
40:2. Their thoughts, and fears of the heart, their imagination of
things to come, and the day of their end:
40:3. From him that sitteth on a glorious throne, unto him that is
humbled in earth and ashes:
40:4. From him that weareth purple, and beareth the crown, even to him
that is covered with rough linen:  wrath, envy, trouble, unquietness,
and the fear of death, continual anger, and strife,
40:5. And in the time of rest upon his bed, the sleep of the night
changeth his knowledge.
40:6. A little and as nothing is his rest, and afterward in sleep, as
in the day of keeping watch.
40:7. He is troubled in the vision of his heart, as if he had escaped
in the day of battle.  In the time of his safety he rose up, and
wondereth that there is no fear.
40:8. Such things happen to all flesh, from man even to beast, and upon
sinners are sevenfold more.
40:9. Moreover, death, and bloodshed, strife, and sword, oppressions,
famine, and affliction, and scourges:
40:10. All these things are created for the wicked, and for their sakes
came the flood.
40:11. All things that are of the earth, shall return to the earth
again, and all waters shall return to the sea.
40:12. All bribery, and injustice shall be blotted out, and fidelity
shall stand for ever.
40:13. The riches of the unjust shall be dried up like a river, and
shall pass away with a noise like a great thunder in rain.
40:14. While he openeth his hands he shall rejoice:  but transgressors
shall pine away in the end.
40:15. The offspring of the ungodly shall not bring forth many
branches, and make a noise as unclean roots upon the top of a rock.
40:16. The weed growing over every water, and at the bank of the river,
shall be pulled up before all grass.
40:17. Grace is like a paradise in blessings, and mercy remaineth for
40:18. The life of a laborer that is content with what he hath, shall
be sweet, and in it thou shalt find a treasure.
40:19. Children, and the building of a city shall establish a name, but
a blameless wife shall be counted above them both.
40:20. Wine and music rejoice the heart, but the love of wisdom is
above them both.
40:21. The flute and the psaltery make a sweet melody, but a pleasant
tongue is above them both.
40:22. Thy eye desireth favour and beauty, but more than these green
sown fields.
40:23. A friend and companion meeting together in season, but above
them both is a wife with her husband.
40:24. Brethren are a help in the time of trouble, but mercy shall
deliver more than they.
40:25. Gold and silver make the feet stand sure:  but wise counsel is
above them both.
40:26. Riches and strength lift up the heart:  but above these is the
fear of the Lord.
40:27. There is no want in the fear of the Lord, and it needeth not to
seek for help.
40:28. The fear of the Lord is like a paradise of blessing, and they
have covered it above all glory.
40:29. My son, in thy lifetime be not indigent:  for it is better to die
than to want.
40:30. The life of him that looketh toward another man's table is not
to be counted a life:  for he feedeth his soul with another man's meat.
40:31. But a man, well instructed and taught, will look to himself.
40:32. Begging will be sweet in the mouth of the unwise, but in his
belly there shall burn a fire.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 41
Of the remembrance of death:  of an evil and of a good name:  of what
things we ought to be ashamed.
41:1. O death, how bitter is the remembrance of thee to a man that hath
peace in his possessions!
41:2. To a man that is at rest, and whose ways are prosperous in all
things, and that is yet able to take meat!
41:3. O death thy sentence is welcome to the man that is in need, and
to him whose strength faileth:
41:4. Who is in a decrepit age, and that is in care about all things,
and to the distrustful that loseth patience!
41:5. Fear not the sentence of death.  Remember what things have been
before thee, and what shall come after thee:  this sentence is from the
Lord upon all flesh.
41:6. And what shall come upon thee by the good pleasure of the most
High?  whether ten, or a hundred, or a thousand years.
41:7. For among the dead there is no accusing of life.
41:8. The children of sinners become children of abominations, and they
that converse near the houses of the ungodly.
41:9. The inheritance of the children of sinners shall perish, and with
their posterity shall be a perpetual reproach.
41:10. The children will complain of an ungodly father, because for his
sake they are in reproach.
41:11. Woe to you, ungodly men, who have forsaken the law of the most
41:12. And if you be born, you shall be born in malediction:  and if you
die, in malediction shall be your portion.
41:13. All things that are of the earth, shall return into the earth:
so the ungodly shall from malediction to destruction.
41:14. The mourning of men is about their body, but the name of the
ungodly shall be blotted out.
41:15. Take care of a good name:  for this shall continue with thee,
more than a thousand treasures precious and great.
41:16. A good life hath its number of days:  but a good name shall
continue for ever.
41:17. My children, keep discipline in peace:  for wisdom that is hid,
and a treasure that is not seen, what profit is there in them both?
41:18. Better is the man that hideth his folly, than the man that
hideth his wisdom.
41:19. Wherefore have a shame of these things I am now going to speak
Have a shame, etc. . .That is to say, be ashamed of doing any of these
things, which I am now going to mention; for though sometimes
shamefacedness is not to be indulged:  yet it is often good and
necessary:  as in the following cases.
41:20. For it is not good to keep all shamefacedness:  and all things do
not please all men in opinion.
41:21. Be ashamed of fornication before father and mother:  and of a lie
before a governor and a man in power:
41:22. Of an offence before a prince, and a judge:  of iniquity before a
congregation and a people:
41:23. Of injustice before a companion and friend:  and in regard to the
place where thou dwellest,
41:24. Of theft, and of the truth of God, and the covenant:  of leaning
with thy elbow over meat, and of deceit in giving and taking:
41:25. Of silence before them that salute thee:  of looking upon a
harlot:  and of turning away thy face from thy kinsman.
41:26. Turn not away thy face from thy neighbour, and of taking away a
portion and not restoring.
41:27. Gaze not upon another man's wife, and be not inquisitive after
his handmaid, and approach not her bed.
41:28. Be ashamed of upbraiding speeches before friends:  and after thou
hast given, upbraid not.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 42
Of what things we ought not to be ashamed.  Cautions with regard to
women.  The works and greatness of God.
42:1. Repeat not the word which thou hast heard, and disclose not the
thing that is secret; so shalt thou be truly without confusion, and
shalt find favour before all men:  be not ashamed of any of these
things, and accept no person to sin thereby:
42:2. Of the law of the most High, and of his covenant, and of judgment
to justify the ungodly:
42:3. Of the affair of companions and travellers, and of the gift of
the inheritance of friends:
42:4. Of exactness of balance and weights, of getting much or little:
42:5. Of the corruption of buying, and of merchants, and of much
correction of children, and to make the side of a wicked slave to
42:6. Sure keeping is good over a wicked wife.
42:7. Where there are many hands, shut up, and deliver all things in
number, and weight:  and put all in writing that thou givest out or
receivest in.
42:8. Be not ashamed to inform the unwise and foolish, and the aged,
that are judged by young men:  and thou shalt be well instructed in all
things, and well approved in the sight of all men living.
42:9. The father waketh for the daughter when no man knoweth, and the
care for her taketh away his sleep, when she is young, lest she pass
away the flower of her age, and when she is married, lest she should be
42:10. In her virginity, lest she should be corrupted, and be found
with child in her father's house:  and having a husband, lest she should
misbehave herself, or at the least become barren.
42:11. Keep a sure watch over a shameless daughter:  lest at anytime she
make thee become a laughingstock to thy enemies, and a byword in the
city, and a reproach among the people, and she make thee ashamed before
all the multitude.
42:12. Behold not everybody's beauty:  and tarry not among women.
42:13. For from garments cometh a moth, and from a woman the iniquity
42:14. For better is the iniquity of a man, than a woman doing a good
turn, and a woman bringing shame and reproach.
Better is the iniquity, etc. . .That is, there is, commonly speaking,
less danger to be apprehended to the soul from the churlishness, or
injuries we receive from men, than from the flattering favours and
familiarity of women.
42:15. I will now remember the works of the Lord, and I will declare
the things I have seen.  By the words of the Lord are his works.
42:16. The sun giving light hath looked upon all things, and full of
the glory of the Lord is his work.
42:17. Hath not the Lord made the saints to declare all his wonderful
works, which the Lord Almighty hath firmly settled to be established
for his glory?
42:18. He hath searched out the deep, and the heart of men:  and
considered their crafty devices.
42:19. For the Lord knoweth all knowledge, and hath beheld the signs of
the world, he declareth the things that are past, and the things that
are to come, and revealeth the traces of hidden things.
42:20. No thought escapeth him, and no word can hide itself from him.
42:21. He hath beautified the glorious works of his wisdom:  and he is
from eternity to eternity, and to him nothing may be added,
42:22. Nor can he be diminished, and he hath no need of any counsellor.
42:23. O how desirable are all his works, and what we can know is but
42:24. All these things live, and remain for ever, and for every use
all things obey him.
42:25. All things are double, one against another, and he hath made
nothing defective.
42:26. He hath established the good things of every one.  And who shall
be filled with beholding his glory?
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 43
The works of God are exceedingly glorious and wonderful:  no man is able
sufficiently to praise him.
43:1. The firmament on high is his beauty, the beauty of heaven with
its glorious shew.
43:2. The sun when he appeareth shewing forth at his rising, an
admirable instrument, the work of the most High.
43:3. At noon he burneth the earth, and who can abide his burning heat?
As one keeping a furnace in the works of heat:
43:4. The sun three times as much, burneth the mountains, breathing out
fiery vapours, and shining with his beams, he blindeth the eyes.
43:5. Great is the Lord that made him, and at his words he hath
hastened his course.
43:6. And the moon in all in her season, is for a declaration of times
and a sign of the world.
43:7. From the moon is the sign of the festival day, a light that
decreaseth in her perfection.
43:8. The month is called after her name, increasing wonderfully in her
43:9. Being an instrument of the armies on high, shining gloriously in
the firmament of heaven.
43:10. The glory of the stars is the beauty of heaven; the Lord
enlighteneth the world on high.
43:11. By the words of the holy one they stand in judgment, and shall
never fall in their watches.
43:12. Look upon the rainbow, and bless him that made it:  it is very
beautiful in its brightness.
43:13. It encompasseth the heaven about with the circle of its glory,
the hands of the most High have displayed it.
43:14. By his commandment he maketh the snow to fall apace, and sendeth
forth swiftly the lightnings of his judgment.
43:15. Through this are the treasures opened, and the clouds fly out
43:16. By his greatness he hath fixed the clouds, and the hailstones
43:17. At his sight shall the mountains be shaken, and at his will the
south wind shall blow.
43:18. The noise of his thunder shall strike the earth, so doth the
northern storm, and the whirlwind:
43:19. And as the birds lighting upon the earth, he scattereth snow,
and the falling thereof, is as the coming down of locusts.
43:20. The eye admireth at the beauty of the whiteness thereof, and the
heart is astonished at the shower thereof.
43:21. He shall pour frost as salt upon the earth:  and when it
freezeth, it shall become like the tops of thistles.
43:22. The cold north wind bloweth, and the water is congealed into
crystal; upon every gathering together of waters it shall rest, and
shall clothe the waters as a breastplate.
43:23. And it shall devour the mountains, and burn the wilderness, and
consume all that is green as with fire.
43:24. A present remedy of all is the speedy coming of a cloud, and a
dew that meeteth it, by the heat that cometh, shall overpower it.
43:25. At his word the wind is still, and with his thought he appeaseth
the deep, and the Lord hath planted islands therein.
43:26. Let them that sail on the sea, tell the dangers thereof:  and
when we hear with our ears, we shall admire.
43:27. There are great and wonderful works:  a variety of beasts, and of
all living things, and the monstrous creatures of whales.
43:28. Through him is established the end of their journey, and by his
word all things are regulated.
43:29. We shall say much, and yet shall want words:  but the sum of our
words is, He is all.
43:30. What shall we be able to do to glorify him?  for the Almighty
himself is above all his works.
43:31. The Lord is terrible, and exceeding great, and his power is
43:32. Glorify the Lord as much as ever you can, for he will yet far
exceed, and his magnificence is wonderful.
43:33. Blessing the Lord, exalt him as much as you can; for he is above
43:34. When you exalt him put forth all your strength, and be not
weary:  for you can never go far enough.
43:35. Who shall see him, and declare him?  and who shall magnify him as
he is from the beginning?
43:36. There are many things hidden from us that are greater than
these:  for we have seen but a few of his works.
43:37. But the Lord hath made all things, and to the godly he hath
given wisdom.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 44
The praises of the holy fathers, in particular of Enoch, Noe, Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob.
44:1. Let us now praise men of renown and our fathers in their
44:2. The Lord hath wrought great glory through his magnificence from
the beginning.
44:3. Such as have borne rule in their dominions, men of great power,
and endued with their wisdom, shewing forth in the prophets the dignity
of prophets,
44:4. And ruling over the present people, and by the strength of wisdom
instructing the people in most holy words.
44:5. Such as by their skill sought out musical tunes, and published
canticles of the scriptures.
44:6. Rich men in virtue, studying beautifulness:  living at peace in
their houses.
44:7. All these have gained glory in their generations, and were
praised in their days.
44:8. They that were born of them have left a name behind them, that
their praises might be related:
44:9. And there are some, of whom there is no memorial:  who are
perished, as if they had never been:  and are become as if they had
never been born, and their children with them.
44:10. But these were men of mercy, whose godly deeds have not failed:
44:11. Good things continue with their seed,
44:12. Their posterity are a holy inheritance, and their seed hath
stood in the covenants.
44:13. And their children for their sakes remain for ever:  their seed
and their glory shall not be forsaken.
44:14. Their bodies are buried in peace, and their name liveth unto
generation and generation.
44:15. Let the people shew forth their wisdom, and the church declare
their praise.
44:16. Henoch pleased God, and was translated into paradise, that he
may give repentance to the nations.
44:17. Noe was found perfect, just, and in the time of wrath he was
made a reconciliation.
44:18. Therefore was there a remnant left to the earth, when the flood
44:19. The covenants of the world were made with him, that all flesh
should no more be destroyed with the flood.
44:20. Abraham was the great father of a multitude of nations, and
there was not found the like to him in glory, who kept the law of the
most High, and was in covenant with him.
44:21. In his flesh he established the covenant, and in temptation he
was found faithful.
44:22. Therefore by an oath he gave him glory in his posterity, that he
should increase as the dust of the earth,
44:23. And that he would exalt his seed as the stars, and they should
inherit from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth.
44:24. And he did in like manner with Isaac for the sake of Abraham his
44:25. The Lord gave him the blessing of all nations, and confirmed his
covenant upon the head of Jacob.
44:26. He acknowledged him in his blessings, and gave him an
inheritance, and divided him his portion in twelve tribes.
44:27. And he preserved for him men of mercy, that found grace in the
eyes of all flesh.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 45
The praises of Moses, of Aaron, and of Phinees.
45:1. Moses was beloved of God, and men:  whose memory is in
benediction.
45:2. He made him like the saints in glory, and magnified him in the
fear of his enemies, and with his words he made prodigies to cease.
45:3. He glorified him in the sight of kings, and gave him commandments
in the sight of his people, and shewed him his glory.
45:4. He sanctified him in his faith, and meekness, and chose him out
of all flesh.
45:5. For he heard him, and his voice, and brought him into a cloud.
45:6. And he gave him commandments before his face, and a law of life
and instruction, that he might teach Jacob his covenant, and Israel his
45:7. He exalted Aaron his brother, and like to himself of the tribe of
45:8. He made an everlasting covenant with him, and gave him the
priesthood of the nation, and made him blessed in glory,
45:9. And he girded him about with a glorious girdle, and clothed him
with a robe of glory, and crowned him with majestic attire.
45:10. He put upon him a garment to the feet, and breeches, and an
ephod, and he compassed him with many little bells of gold all round
45:11. That as he went there might be a sound, and a noise made that
might be heard in the temple, for a memorial to the children of his
45:12. He gave him a holy robe of gold, and blue, and purple, a woven
work of a wise man, endued with judgment and truth:
45:13. Of twisted scarlet the work of an artist, with precious stones
cut and set in gold, and graven by the work of a lapidary for a
memorial, according to the number of the tribes of Israel.
45:14. And a crown of gold upon his mitre wherein was engraved
Holiness, an ornament of honour:  a work of power, and delightful to the
eyes for its beauty.
45:15. Before him there were none so beautiful, even from the
45:16. No stranger was ever clothed with them, but only his children
alone, and his grandchildren for ever.
45:17. His sacrifices were consumed with fire every day.
45:18. Moses filled his hands and anointed him with holy oil.
45:19. This was made to him for an everlasting testament, and to his
seed as the days of heaven, to execute the office of the priesthood,
and to have praise, and to glorify his people in his name.
45:20. He chose him out of all men living, to offer sacrifice to God,
incense, and a good savour, for a memorial to make reconciliation for
45:21. And he gave him power in his commandments, in the covenants of
his judgments, that he should teach Jacob his testimonies, and give
light to Israel in his law.
45:22. And strangers stood up against him, and through envy the men
that were with Dathan and Abiron, compassed him about in the
wilderness, and the congregation of Core in their wrath.
45:23. The Lord God saw and it pleased him not, and they were consumed
in his wrathful indignation.
45:24. He wrought wonders upon them, and consumed them with a flame of
45:25. And he added glory to Aaron, and gave him an inheritance, and
divided unto him the firstfruits of the increase of the earth.
45:26. He prepared them bread in the first place unto fulness:  for the
sacrifices also of the Lord they shall eat, which he gave to him, and
to his seed.
45:27. But he shall not inherit among the people in the land, and he
hath no portion among the people:  for he himself is his portion and
inheritance.
45:28. Phinees the son of Eleazar is the third in glory, by imitating
him in the fear of the Lord:
45:29. And he stood up in the shameful fall of the people:  in the
goodness and readiness of his soul he appeased God for Israel.
45:30. Therefore he made to him a covenant of peace, to be the prince
of the sanctuary, and of his people, that the dignity of priesthood
should be to him and to his seed for ever.
45:31. And a covenant to David the king, the son of Jesse of the tribe
of Juda, an inheritance to him and to his seed, that he might give
wisdom into our heart to judge his people in justice, that their good
things might not be abolished, and he made their glory in their nation
everlasting.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 46
The praise of Josue, of Caleb, and of Samuel.
46:1. Valiant in war was Jesus the son of Nave, who was successor of
Moses among the prophets, who was great according to his name,
Jesus the son of Nave. . .So Josue is named in the Greek Bibles.  For
Josue and Jesus signify the same thing, viz., a saviour.
46:2. Very great for the saving the elect of God, to overthrow the
enemies that rose up against them, that he might get the inheritance
46:3. How great glory did he gain when he lifted up his hands, and
stretched out swords against the cities?
46:4. Who before him hath so resisted?  for the Lord himself brought the
46:5. Was not the sun stopped in his anger, and one day made as two?
46:6. He called upon the most high Sovereign when the enemies assaulted
him on every side, and the great and holy God heard him by hailstones
of exceeding great force.
46:7. He made a violent assault against the nation of his enemies, and
in the descent he destroyed the adversaries.
And in the descent. . .Of Beth-horon (Jos. 10.).
46:8. That the nations might know his power, that it is not easy to
fight against God.  And he followed the mighty one:
46:9. And in the days of Moses he did a work of mercy, he and Caleb the
son of Jephone, in standing against the enemy, and withholding the
people from sins, and appeasing the wicked murmuring.
46:10. And they two being appointed, were delivered out of the danger
from among the number of six hundred thousand men on foot, to bring
them into their inheritance, into the land that floweth with milk and
46:11. And the Lord gave strength also to Caleb, and his strength
continued even to his old age, so that he went up to the high places of
the land, and his seed obtained it for an inheritance:
46:12. That all the children of Israel might see, that it is good to
obey the holy God.
46:13. Then all the judges, every one by name, whose heart was not
corrupted:  who turned not away from the Lord,
46:14. That their memory might be blessed, and their bones spring up
out of their place,
46:15. And their name continue for ever, the glory of the holy men
remaining unto their children.
46:16. Samuel the prophet of the Lord, the beloved of the Lord his God,
established a new government, and anointed princes over his people.
46:17. By the law of the Lord he judged the congregation, and the God
of Jacob beheld, and by his fidelity he was proved a prophet.
46:18. And he was known to be faithful in his words, because he saw the
God of light:
46:19. And called upon the name of the Lord Almighty, in fighting
against the enemies who beset him on every side, when he offered a lamb
without blemish.
46:20. And the Lord thundered from heaven, and with a great noise made
his voice to be heard.
46:21. And he crushed the princes of the Tyrians, and all the lords of
the Philistines:
46:22. And before the time of the end of his life in the world, he
protested before the Lord, and his anointed:  money, or any thing else,
even to a shoe, he had not taken of any man, and no man did accuse him.
46:23. And after this he slept, and he made known to the king, and
shewed him the end of his life, and he lifted up his voice from the
earth in prophecy to blot out the wickedness of the nation.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 47
The praise of Nathan, of David, and of Solomon:  Of his fall and
47:1. Then Nathan the prophet arose in the days of David.
47:2. And as the fat taken away from the flesh, so was David chosen
from among the children of Israel.
47:3. He played with lions as with lambs:  and with bears he did in like
manner as with the lambs of the flock, in his youth.
47:4. Did not he kill the giant, and take away reproach from his
47:5. In lifting up his hand, with the stone in the sling he beat down
the boasting of Goliath:
47:6. For he called upon the Lord the Almighty, and he gave strength in
his right hand, to take away the mighty warrior, and to set up the horn
of his nation.
47:7. So in ten thousand did he glorify him, and praised him in the
blessings of the Lord, in offering to him a crown of glory:
47:8. For he destroyed the enemies on every side, and extirpated the
Philistines the adversaries unto this day:  he broke their horn for
47:9. In all his works he gave thanks to the holy one, and to the most
High, with words of glory.
47:10. With his whole heart he praised the Lord, and loved God that
made him:  and he gave him power against his enemies:
47:11. And he set singers before the altar, and by their voices he made
sweet melody.
47:12. And to the festivals he added beauty, and set in order the
solemn times even to the end of his life, that they should praise the
holy name of the Lord, and magnify the holiness of God in the morning.
47:13. The Lord took away his sins, and exalted his horn for ever:  and
he gave him a covenant of the kingdom, and a throne of glory in Israel.
47:14. After him arose up a wise son, and for his sake he cast down all
the power of the enemies.
47:15. Solomon reigned in days of peace, and God brought all his
enemies under him, that he might build a house in his name, and prepare
a sanctuary for ever:  O how wise wast thou in thy youth!
47:16. And thou wast filled as a river with wisdom, and thy soul
covered the earth.
47:17. And thou didst multiply riddles in parables:  thy name went
abroad to the islands far off, and thou wast beloved in thy peace.
47:18. The countries wondered at thee for thy canticles, and proverbs,
and parables, and interpretations,
47:19. And at the name of the Lord God, whose surname is, God of
47:20. Thou didst gather gold as copper, and didst multiply silver as
47:21. And thou didst bow thyself to women:  and by thy body thou wast
brought under subjection.
47:22. Thou hast stained thy glory, and defiled thy seed so as to bring
wrath upon thy children, and to have thy folly kindled,
47:23. That thou shouldst make the kingdom to be divided, and out of
Ephraim a rebellious kingdom to rule.
47:24. But God will not leave off his mercy, and he will not destroy,
nor abolish his own works, neither will he cut up by the roots the
offspring of his elect:  and he will not utterly take away the seed of
him that loveth the Lord.
47:25. Wherefore he gave a remnant to Jacob, and to David of the same
47:26. And Solomon had an end with his fathers.
47:27. And he left behind him of his seed, the folly of the nation,
47:28. Even Roboam that had little wisdom, who turned away the people
through his counsel:
47:29. And Jeroboam the son of Nabat, who caused Israel to sin, and
shewed Ephraim the way of sin, and their sins were multiplied
exceedingly.
47:30. They removed them far away from their land.
47:31. And they sought out all iniquities, till vengeance came upon
them, and put an end to all their sins.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 48
The praise of Elias, of Eliseus, of Ezechias, and of Isaias.
48:1. And Elias the prophet stood up, as a fire, and his word burnt
like a torch.
48:2. He brought a famine upon them, and they that provoked him in
their envy, were reduced to a small number, for they could not endure
the commandments of the Lord.
48:3. By the word of the Lord he shut up the heaven, and he brought
down fire from heaven thrice.
48:4. Thus was Elias magnified in his wondrous works.  And who can glory
like to thee?
48:5. Who raisedst up a dead man from below, from the lot of death, by
the word of the Lord God.
48:6. Who broughtest down kings to destruction, and brokest easily
their power in pieces, and the glorious from their bed.
48:7. Who heardest judgment in Sina, and in Horeb the judgments of
48:8. Who anointedst kings to penance, and madest prophets successors
48:9. Who wast taken up in a whirlwind of fire, in a chariot of fiery
48:10. Who art registered in the judgments of times to appease the
wrath of the Lord, to reconcile the heart of the father to the son, and
to restore the tribes of Jacob.
48:11. Blessed are they that saw thee, and were honoured with thy
48:12. For we live only in our life, but after death our name shall not
48:13. Elias was indeed covered with the whirlwind, and his spirit was
filled up in Eliseus:  in his days he feared not the prince, and no man
was more powerful than he.
48:14. No word could overcome him, and after death his body prophesied.
48:15. In his life he did great wonders, and in death he wrought
48:16. For all this the people repented not, neither did they depart
from their sins till they were cast out of their land, and were
scattered through all the earth.
48:17. And there was left but a small people, and a prince in the house
48:18. Some of these did that which pleased God:  but others committed
48:19. Ezechias fortified his city, and brought in water into the midst
thereof, and he digged a rock with iron, and made a well for water.
48:20. In his days Sennacherib came up, and sent Rabsaces, and lifted
up his hand against them, and he stretched out his hand against Sion,
and became proud through his power.
48:21. Then their hearts and hands trembled, and they were in pain as
women in travail.
48:22. And they called upon the Lord who is merciful, and spreading
their hands, they lifted them up to heaven:  and the holy Lord God
quickly heard their voice.
48:23. He was not mindful of their sins, neither did he deliver them up
to their enemies, but he purified them by the hand of Isaias, the holy
48:24. He overthrew the army of the Assyrians, and the angel of the
Lord destroyed them.
48:25. For Ezechias did that which pleased God, and walked valiantly in
the way of David his father, which Isaias, the great prophet, and
faithful in the sight of God, had commanded him.
48:26. In his days the sun wen backward, and he lengthened the king's
48:27. With a great spirit he saw the things that are to come to pass
at last, and comforted the mourners in Sion.
48:28. He showed what should come to pass for ever, and secret things
before they came.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 49
The praise of Josias, of Jeremias, Ezechiel, and the twelve prophets.
Also of Zorobabel, Jesus the son of Josedech, Nehemias, Enoch, Joseph,
Seth, Sem, and Adam.
49:1. The memory of Josias is like the composition of a sweet smell
made by the art of a perfumer:
49:2. His remembrance shall be sweet as honey in every mouth, and as
music at a banquet of wine.
49:3. He was directed by God unto the repentance of the nation, and he
took away the abominations of wickedness.
49:4. And he directed his heart towards the Lord, and in the days of
sinners he strengthened godliness.
49:5. Except David, and Ezechias and Josias, all committed sin.
49:6. For the kings of Juda forsook the law of the most High, and
despised the fear of God.
49:7. So they gave their kingdom to others, and their glory to a
strange nation,
49:8. They burnt the chosen city of holiness, and made the streets
thereof desolate according to the prediction of Jeremias.
49:9. For they treated him evil, who was consecrated a prophet from his
mother's womb, to overthrow, and pluck up, and destroy, and to build
again, and renew.
49:10. It was Ezechiel that saw the glorious vision, which was shewn
him upon the chariot of cherubims.
49:11. For he made mention of the enemies under the figure of rain, and
of doing good to them that shewed right ways.
49:12. And may the bones of the twelve prophets spring up out of their
place:  for they strengthened Jacob, and redeemed themselves by strong
49:13. How shall we magnify Zorobabel?  for he was as a signet on the
49:14. In like manner Jesus the son of Josedec who in their days built
the house, and set up a holy temple to the Lord, prepared for
everlasting glory.
49:15. And let Nehemias be a long time remembered, who raised up for us
our walls that were cast down, and set up the gates and the bars, who
rebuilt our houses.
49:16. No man was born upon earth like Henoch:  for he also was taken up
from the earth.
49:17. Nor as Joseph, who was a man born prince of his brethren, the
support of his family, the ruler of his brethren, the stay of the
49:18. And his bones were visited, and after death they prophesied.
They prophesied. . .That is, by their being carried out of Egypt they
verified the prophetic prediction of Joseph.  Gen. 50.
49:19. Seth and Sem obtained glory among men:  and above every soul Adam
in the beginning,
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 50
The praises of Simon the high priest.  The conclusion.
50:1. Simon the high priest, the son of Onias, who in his life propped
up the house, and in his days fortified the temple.
50:2. By him also the height of the temple was founded, the double
building and the high walls of the temple.
50:3. In his days the wells of water flowed out, and they were filled
as the sea above measure.
50:4. He took care of his nation, and delivered it from destruction.
50:5. He prevailed to enlarge the city, and obtained glory in his
conversation with the people:  and enlarged the entrance of the house
and the court.
50:6. He shone in his days as the morning star in the midst of a cloud,
and as the moon at the full.
50:7. And as the sun when it shineth, so did he shine in the temple of
50:8. And as the rainbow giving light in bright clouds, and as the
flower of roses in the days of the spring, and as the lilies that are
on the brink of the water, and as the sweet smelling frankincense in
the time of summer.
50:9. As a bright fire, and frankincense burning in the fire.
50:10. As a massy vessel of gold, adorned with every precious stone.
50:11. As an olive tree budding forth, and a cypress tree rearing
itself on high, when he put on the robe of glory, and was clothed with
the perfection of power.
Clothed with the perfection of power. . .That is, with all the vestments
denoting his dignity and authority.
50:12. When he went up to the holy altar, he honoured the vesture of
50:13. And when he took the portions out of the hands of the priests,
he himself stood by the altar.  And about him was the ring of his
brethren:  and as the cedar planted in mount Libanus,
50:14. And as branches of palm trees, they stood round about him, and
all the sons of Aaron in their glory.
50:15. And the oblation of the Lord was in their hands, before all the
congregation of Israel:  and finishing his service, on the altar, to
honour the offering of the most high King,
50:16. He stretched forth his hand to make a libation, and offered of
the blood of the grape.
50:17. He poured out at the foot of the altar a divine odour to the
most high Prince.
50:18. Then the sons of Aaron shouted, they sounded with beaten
trumpets, and made a great noise to be heard for a remembrance before
50:19. Then all the people together made haste, and fell down to the
earth upon their faces, to adore the Lord their God, and to pray to the
Almighty God the most High.
50:20. And the singers lifted up their voices, and in the great house
the sound of sweet melody was increased.
50:21. And the people in prayer besought the Lord the most High, until
the worship of the Lord was perfected, and they had finished their
50:22. Then coming down, he lifted up his hands over all the
congregation of the children of Israel, to give glory to God with his
lips, and to glory in his name:
50:23. And he repeated his prayer, willing to shew the power of God.
50:24. And now pray ye to the God of all, who hath done great things in
all the earth, who hath increased our days from our mother's womb, and
hath done with us according to his mercy.
50:25. May he grant us joyfulness of heart, and that there be peace in
our days in Israel for ever:
50:26. That Israel may believe that the mercy of God is with us, to
deliver us in his days.
50:27. There are two nations which my soul abhorreth:  and the third is
no nation:  which I hate:
Abhorreth. . .Viz., with a holy indignation, as enemies of God and
persecutors of his people.  Such were then the Edomites who abode in
mount Seir, the Philistines, and the Samaritans who dwelt in Sichem,
and had their schismatical temple in that neighbourhood.
50:28. They that sit on mount Seir, and the Philistines, and the
foolish people that dwell in Sichem.
50:29. Jesus the son of Sirach, of Jerusalem, hath written in this book
the doctrine of wisdom and instruction, who renewed wisdom from his
50:30. Blessed is he that is conversant in these good things and he
that layeth them up in his heart, shall be wise always.
50:31. For if he do them, he shall be strong to do all things:  because
the light of God guideth his steps.
Ecclesiasticus Chapter 51
A prayer of praise and thanksgiving.
51:1. A prayer of Jesus the son of Sirach.  I will give glory to thee, O
Lord, O King, and I will praise thee, O God my Saviour.
51:2. I will give glory to thy name:  for thou hast been a helper and
protector to me.
51:3. And hast preserved my body from destruction, from the snare of an
unjust tongue, and from the lips of them that forge lies, and in the
sight of them that stood by, thou hast been my helper.
51:4. And thou hast delivered me, according to the multitude of the
mercy of thy name, from them that did roar, prepared to devour.
51:5. Out of the hands of them that sought my life, and from the gates
of afflictions, which compassed me about:
51:6. From the oppression of the flame which surrounded me, and in the
midst of the fire I was not burnt.
51:7. From the depth of the belly of hell, and from an unclean tongue,
and from lying words, from an unjust king, and from a slanderous
51:8. My soul shall praise the Lord even to death.
51:9. And my life was drawing near to hell beneath.
51:10. They compassed me on every side, and there was no one that would
help me.  I looked for the succour of men, and there was none.
51:11. I remembered thy mercy, O Lord, and thy works, which are from
the beginning of the world.
51:12. How thou deliverest them that wait for thee, O Lord, and savest
them out of the hands of the nations.
51:13. Thou hast exalted my dwelling place upon the earth and I have
prayed for death to pass away.
51:14. I called upon the Lord, the father of my Lord, that he would not
leave me in the day of my trouble, and in the time of the proud without
51:15. I will praise thy name continually, and will praise it with
thanksgiving, and my prayer was heard.
51:16. And thou hast saved me from destruction, and hast delivered me
from the evil time.
51:17. Therefore I will give thanks, and praise thee, and bless the
name of the Lord.
51:18. When I was yet young, before I wandered about, I sought for
wisdom openly in my prayer.
51:19. I prayed for her before the temple, and unto the very end I will
seek after her, and she flourished as a grape soon ripe.
51:20. My heart delighted in her, my foot walked in the right way, from
my youth up I sought after her.
51:21. I bowed down my ear a little, and received her.
51:22. I found much wisdom in myself, and profited much therein.
51:23. To him that giveth me wisdom, will I give glory.
51:24. For I have determined to follow her:  I have had a zeal for good,
and shall not be confounded.
51:25. My soul hath wrestled for her, and in doing it I have been
51:26. I stretched forth my hands on high, and I bewailed my ignorance
51:27. I directed my soul to her, and in knowledge I found her.
51:28. I possessed my heart with her from the beginning:  therefore I
shall not be forsaken.
51:29. My entrails were troubled in seeking her:  therefore shall I
possess a good possession.
51:30. The Lord hath given me a tongue for my reward:  and with it I
will praise him.
51:31. Draw near to me, ye unlearned, and gather yourselves together
into the hours of discipline.
51:32. Why are ye slow and what do you say of these things?  your souls
are exceeding thirsty.
51:33. I have opened my mouth, and have spoken:  buy her for yourselves
without silver,
51:34. And submit your neck to the yoke, and let your soul receive
discipline:  for she is near at hand to be found.
51:35. Behold with your eyes how I have laboured a little, and have
found much rest to myself.
51:36. Receive ye discipline as a great sum of money, and possess
abundance of gold by her.
51:37. Let your soul rejoice in his mercy and you shall not be
confounded in his praise.
51:38. Work your work before the time, and he will give you your reward
in his time.
THE PROPHECY OF ISAIAS
This inspired writer is called by the Holy Ghost, the great prophet,
(Ecclesiasticus 48.25,) from the greatness of his prophetic spirit, by
which he hath foretold so long before, and in so clear a manner, the
coming of Christ, the mysteries of our redemption, the calling of the
Gentiles, and the glorious establishment, and perpetual flourishing of
the church of Christ:  insomuch that he may seem to have been rather an
evangelist than a prophet.  His very name is not without mystery; for
Isaias in Hebrew signifies the salvation of the Lord, or Jesus is the
Lord.  He was, according to the tradition of the Hebrews, of the blood
royal of the kings of Juda:  and after a most holy life, ended his days
by a glorious martyrdom; being sawed in two, at the command of his
wicked son in law, King Manasses, for reproving his evil ways.
Isaias Chapter 1
The prophet complains of the sins of Juda and Jerusalem, and exhorts
them to a sincere conversion.
1:1. The vision of Isaias the Son of Amos, which he saw concerning Juda
and Jerusalem in the days of Ozias, Joathan, Achaz, and Ezechias, kings
1:2. Hear, O ye heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath
spoken.  I have brought up children, and exalted them:  but they have
despised me.
1:3. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib:  but
Israel hath not known me, and my people hath not understood.
1:4. Woe to the sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a wicked
seed, ungracious children:  they have forsaken the Lord, they have
blasphemed the Holy One of Israel, they are gone away backwards.
1:5. For what shall I strike you any more, you that increase
transgression?  the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is sad.
1:6. From the sole of the foot unto the top of the head, there is no
soundness therein:  wounds and bruises and swelling sores:  they are not
bound up, nor dressed, nor fomented with oil.
1:7. Your land is desolate, your cities are burnt with fire:  your
country strangers devour before your face, and it shall be desolate as
when wasted by enemies.
1:8. And the daughter of Sion shall be left as a covert in a vineyard,
and as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, and as a city that is laid
1:9. Except the Lord of hosts had left us seed, we had been as Sodom,
and we should have been like to Gomorrha.
1:10. Hear the word of the Lord, ye rulers of Sodom, give ear to the
law of our God, ye people of Gomorrha.
1:11. To what purpose do you offer me the multitude of your victims,
saith the Lord?  I am full, I desire not holocausts of rams, and fat of
fatlings, and blood of calves, and lambs, and buck goats.
1:12. When you came to appear before me, who required these things at
your hands, that you should walk in my courts?
1:13. Offer sacrifice no more in vain:  incense is an abomination to me.
The new moons, and the sabbaths and other festivals I will not abide,
your assemblies are wicked.
1:14. My soul hateth your new moons, and your solemnities:  they are
become troublesome to me, I am weary of bearing them.
1:15. And when you stretch forth your hands, I will turn away my eyes
from you:  and when you multiply prayer, I will not hear:  for your hands
are full of blood.
1:16. Wash yourselves, be clean, take away the evil of your devices
from my eyes, cease to do perversely,
1:17. Learn to do well:  seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge for
the fatherless, defend the widow.
1:18. And then come, and accuse me, saith the Lord:  if your sins be as
scarlet, they shall be made as white as snow:  and if they be red as
crimson, they shall be white as wool.
1:19. If you be willing, and will hearken to me, you shall eat the good
things of the land.
1:20. But if you will not, and will provoke me to wrath:  the sword
shall devour you because the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.
1:21. How is the faithful city, that was full of judgment, become a
harlot?  justice dwelt in it, but now murderers.
1:22. Thy silver is turned into dross:  thy wine is mingled with water.
1:23. Thy princes are faithless, companions of thieves:  they all love
bribes, they run after rewards.  They judge not for the fatherless:  and
the widow's cause cometh not in to them.
1:24. Therefore saith the Lord the God of hosts, the mighty one of
Israel:  Ah! I will comfort myself over my adversaries:  and I will be
revenged of my enemies.
1:25. And I will turn my hand to thee, and I will clean purge away thy
dross, and I will take away all thy tin.
1:26. And I will restore thy judges as they were before, and thy
counsellors as of old.  After this thou shalt be called the city of the
just, a faithful city.
1:27. Sion shall be redeemed in judgment, and they shall bring her back
1:28. And he shall destroy the wicked, and the sinners together:  and
they that have forsaken the Lord, shall be consumed.
1:29. For they shall be confounded for the idols, to which they have
sacrificed:  and you shall be ashamed of the gardens which you have
1:30. When you shall be as an oak with the leaves falling off, and as a
garden without water.
1:31. And your strength shall be as the ashes of tow, and your work as
a spark:  and both shall burn together, and there shall be none to
Isaias Chapter 2
All nations shall flow to the church of Christ.  The Jews shall be
rejected for their sins.  Idolatry shall be destroyed.
2:1. The word that Isaias the son of Amos saw, concerning Juda and
2:2. And in the last days the mountain of the house of the Lord shall
be prepared on the top of mountains, and it shall be exalted above the
hills, and all nations shall flow unto it.
The last days. . .The whole time of the new law, from the coming of
Christ till the end of the world, is called in the scripture the last
days; because no other age or time shall come after it, but only
eternity.--Ibid.  On the top of mountains, etc. . .This shews the
perpetual visibility of the church of Christ:  for a mountain upon the
top of mountains cannot be hid.
2:3. And many people shall go, and say:  Come and let us go up to the
mountain of the Lord, and to the house of the God of Jacob, and he will
teach us his ways, and we will walk in his paths:  for the law shall
come forth from Sion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
2:4. And he shall judge the Gentiles, and rebuke many people:  and they
shall turn their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into
sickles:  nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall
they be exercised any more to war.
2:5. O house of Jacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the
2:6. For thou hast cast off thy people, the house of Jacob:  because
they are filled as in times past, and have had soothsayers as the
Philistines, and have adhered to strange children.
2:7. Their land is filled with silver and gold:  and there is no end of
their treasures.
2:8. And their land is filled with horses:  and their chariots are
innumerable.  Their land also is full of idols:  they have adored the
work of their own hands, which their own fingers have made.
2:9. And man hath bowed himself down, and man hath been debased:
therefore forgive them not.
2:10. Enter thou into the rock, and hide thee in the pit from the face
of the fear of the Lord, and from the glory of his majesty.
2:11. The lofty eyes of man are humbled, and the haughtiness of men
shall be made to stoop:  and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that
2:12. Because the day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon every one that
is proud and highminded, and upon every one that is arrogant, and he
shall be humbled.
2:13. And upon all the tall and lofty cedars of Libanus, and upon all
the oaks of Basan.
2:14. And upon all the high mountains and upon all the elevated hills.
2:15. And upon every high tower, and every fenced wall.
2:16. And upon all the ships of Tharsis, and upon all that is fair to
2:17. And the loftiness of men shall be bowed down, and the haughtiness
of men shall be humbled, and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that
2:18. And idols shall be utterly destroyed.
Idols shall be utterly destroyed. . .or utterly pass away.  This was
verified by the establishment of Christianity.  And by this and other
texts of the like nature, the wild system of some modern sectaries is
abundantly confuted, who charge the whole Christian church with
worshipping idols, for many ages.
2:19. And they shall go into the holes of rocks, and into the caves of
the earth from the face of the fear of the Lord, and from the glory of
his majesty, when he shall rise up to strike the earth.
2:20. In that day a man shall cast away his idols of silver, and his
idols of gold, which he had made for himself to adore, moles and bats.
2:21. And he shall go into the clefts of rocks, and into the holes of
stones from the face of the fear of the Lord, and from the glory of his
majesty, when he shall rise up to strike the earth.
2:22. Cease ye therefore from the man, whose breath is in his nostrils,
for he is reputed high.
Isaias Chapter 3
The confusion and other evils that shall come upon the Jews for their
sins.  The pride of their women shall be punished.
3:1. For behold the sovereign Lord of hosts shall take away from
Jerusalem, and from Juda the valiant and the strong, the whole strength
of bread, and the whole strength of water.
3:2. The strong man, and the man of war, the judge, and the prophet and
the cunning man, and the ancient.
3:3. The captain over fifty, and the honourable in countenance, and the
counsellor, and the architect, and the skilful in eloquent speech.
3:4. And I will give children to be their princes, and the effeminate
shall rule over them.
3:5. And the people shall rush one upon another, and every man against
his neighbour:  the child shall make a tumult against the ancient, and
the base against the honourable.
3:6. For a man shall take hold of his brother, one of the house of his
father, saying:  Thou hast a garment, be thou our ruler, and let this
ruin be under thy hand.
3:7. In that day he shall answer, saying:  I am no healer, and in my
house there is no bread, nor clothing:  make me not ruler of the people.
3:8. For Jerusalem is ruined, and Juda is fallen:  because their tongue,
and their devices are against the Lord, to provoke the eyes of his
3:9. The shew of their countenance hath answered them:  and they have
proclaimed abroad their sin as Sodom, and they have not hid it:  woe to
their souls, for evils are rendered to them.
3:10. Say to the just man that it is well, for he shall eat the fruit
of his doings.
3:11. Woe to the wicked unto evil:  for the reward of his hands shall be
3:12. As for my people, their oppressors have stripped them, and women
have ruled over them.  O my people, they that call thee blessed, the
same deceive thee, and destroy the way of thy steps.
3:13. The Lord standeth up to judge, and he standeth to judge the
3:14. The Lord will enter into judgment with the ancients of his
people, and its princes:  for you have devoured the vineyard, and the
spoil of the poor is in your house.
3:15. Why do you consume my people, and grind the faces of the poor?
saith the Lord the God of hosts.
3:16. And the Lord said:  Because the daughters of Sion are haughty, and
have walked with stretched out necks, and wanton glances of their eyes,
and made a noise as they walked with their feet and moved in a set
3:17. The Lord will make bald the crown of the head of the daughters of
Sion, and the Lord will discover their hair.
3:18. In that day the Lord will take away the ornaments of shoes, and
little moons,
3:19. And chains and necklaces, and bracelets, and bonnets,
3:20. And bodkins, and ornaments of the legs, and tablets, and sweet
balls, and earrings,
3:21. And rings, and jewels hanging on the forehead,
3:22. And changes of apparel, and short cloaks, and fine linen, and
crisping pins,
3:23. And lookingglasses, and lawns, and headbands, and fine veils.
3:24. And instead of a sweet smell there shall be stench, and instead
of a girdle, a cord, and instead of curled hair, baldness, and instead
of a stomacher, haircloth.
3:25. Thy fairest men also shall fall by the sword, and thy valiant
ones in battle.
3:26. And her gates shall lament and mourn, and she shall sit desolate
on the ground.
Isaias Chapter 4
After an extremity of evils that shall fall upon the Jews, a remnant
shall be comforted by Christ.
4:1. And in that day seven women shall take hold of one man, saying:  We
will eat our own bread, and wear our own apparel:  only let us be called
by thy name, take away our reproach.
4:2. In that day the bud of the Lord shall be in magnificence and
glory, and the fruit of the earth shall be high, and a great joy to
them that shall have escaped of Israel.
The bud of the Lord. . .That is, Christ.
4:3. And it shall come to pass, that every one that shall be left in
Sion, and that shall remain in Jerusalem, shall be called holy, every
one that is written in life in Jerusalem.
4:4. If the Lord shall wash away the filth of the daughters of Sion,
and shall wash away the blood of Jerusalem out of the midst thereof, by
the spirit of judgment, and by the spirit of burning.
4:5. And the Lord will create upon every place of mount Sion, and where
he is called upon, a cloud by day, and a smoke and the brightness of a
flaming fire in the night:  for over all the glory shall be a
4:6. And there shall be a tabernacle for a shade in the daytime from
the heat, and for a security and covert from the whirlwind, and from
Isaias Chapter 5
The reprobation of the Jews is foreshewn under the parable of a
vineyard.  A woe is pronounced against sinners:  the army of God shall
send against them.
5:1. I will sing to my beloved the canticle of my cousin concerning his
vineyard.  My beloved had a vineyard on a hill in a fruitful place.
My cousin. . .So the prophet calls Christ, as being of his family and
kindred, by descending from the house of David.  Ibid.  On a hill,
etc. . .Literally, in the horn, the son of oil.
5:2. And he fenced it in, and picked the stones out of it, and planted
it with the choicest vines, and built a tower in the midst thereof, and
set up a winepress therein:  and he looked that it should bring forth
grapes, and it brought forth wild grapes.
5:3. And now, O ye inhabitants of Jerusalem, and ye men of Juda, judge
between me and my vineyard.
5:4. What is there that I ought to do more to my vineyard, that I have
not done to it?  was it that I looked that it should bring forth grapes,
and it hath brought forth wild grapes?
5:5. And now I will shew you what I will do to my vineyard.  I will take
away the hedge thereof, and it shall be wasted:  I will break down the
wall thereof, and it shall be trodden down.
5:6. And I will make it desolate:  it shall not be pruned, and it shall
not be digged:  but briers and thorns shall come up:  and I will command
the clouds to rain no rain upon it.
5:7. For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel:  and
the man of Juda, his pleasant plant:  and I looked that he should do
judgment, and behold iniquity:  and do justice, and behold a cry.
5:8. Woe to you that join house to house and lay field to field, even
to the end of the place:  shall you alone dwell in the midst of the
5:9. These things are in my ears, saith the Lord of hosts:  Unless many
great and fair houses shall become desolate, without an inhabitant.
5:10. For ten acres of vineyard shall yield one little measure, and
thirty bushels of seed shall yield three bushels.
5:11. Woe to you that rise up early in the morning to follow
drunkenness, and to drink in the evening, to be inflamed with wine.
5:12. The harp, and the lyre, and, the timbrel and the pipe, and wine
are in your feasts:  and the work of the Lord you regard not, nor do you
consider the works of his hands.
5:13. Therefore is my people led away captive, because they had not
knowledge, and their nobles have perished with famine, and their
multitude were dried up with thirst.
5:14. Therefore hath hell enlarged her soul, and opened her mouth
without any bounds, and their strong ones, and their people, and their
high and glorious ones shall go down into it.
5:15. And man shall be brought down, and man shall be humbled, and the
eyes of the lofty shall be brought low.
5:16. And the Lord of hosts shall be exalted in judgment, and the holy
God shall be sanctified in justice.
5:17. And the lambs shall feed according to their order, and strangers
shall eat the deserts turned into fruitfulness.
5:18. Woe to you that draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as
the rope of a cart.
5:19. That say:  Let him make haste, and let his work come quickly, that
we may see it:  and let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel come, that
we may know it.
5:20. Woe to you that call evil good, and good evil:  that put darkness
for light, and light for darkness:  that put bitter for sweet, and sweet
5:21. Woe to you that are wise in your own eyes, and prudent in your
own conceits.
5:22. Woe to you that are mighty to drink wine, and stout men at
drunkenness.
5:23. That justify the wicked for gifts, and take away the justice of
the just from him.
5:24. Therefore as the tongue of the fire devoureth the stubble, and
the heat of the flame consumeth it:  so shall their root be as ashes,
and their bud shall go up as dust:  for they have cast away the law of
the Lord of hosts, and have blasphemed the word of the Holy One of
5:25. Therefore is the wrath of the Lord kindled against his people,
and he hath stretched out his hand upon them, and struck them:  and the
mountains were troubles, and their carcasses became as dung in the
midst of the streets.  For after this his anger is not turned away, but
his hand is stretched out still.
5:26. And he will lift up a sign to the nations afar off, and will
whistle to them from the ends of the earth:  and behold they shall come
with speed swiftly.
5:27. There is none that shall faint, nor labour among them:  they shall
not slumber nor sleep, neither shall the girdle of their loins be
loosed, nor the latchet of their shoes be broken.
5:28. Their arrows are sharp, and all their bows are bent.  The hoofs of
their horses shall be like the flint, and their wheels like the
violence of a tempest.
5:29. Their roaring like that of a lion, they shall roar like young
lions:  yea they shall roar, and take hold of the prey, and they shall
keep fast hold of it, and there shall be none to deliver it.
5:30. And they shall make a noise against them that day, like the
roaring of the sea; we shall look towards the land, and behold darkness
of tribulation, and the light is darkened with the mist thereof.
Isaias Chapter 6
A glorious vision, in which the prophet's lips are cleansed:  he
foretelleth the obstinacy of the Jews.
6:1. In the year that king Ozias died, I saw the Lord sitting upon a
throne high and elevated:  and his train filled the temple.
6:2. Upon it stood the seraphims:  the one had six wings, and the other
had six wings:  with two they covered his face, and with two they
covered his feet, and with two they flew.
6:3. And they cried one to another, and said:  Holy, holy, holy, the
Lord God of hosts, all the earth is full of his glory,
6:4. And the lintels of the doors were moved at the voice of him that
cried, and the house was filled with smoke.
6:5. And I said:  Woe is me, because I have held my peace; because I am
a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people that hath
unclean lips, and I have seen with my eyes the King the Lord of hosts.
6:6. And one of the seraphims flew to me, and in his hand was a live
coal, which he had taken with the tongs off the altar.
6:7. And he touched my mouth, and said:  Behold this hath touched thy
lips, and thy iniquities shall be taken away, and thy sin shall be
6:8. And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:  Whom shall I send?  and
who shall go for us?  And I said:  Lo, here am I, send me.
6:9. And he said:  Go, and thou shalt say to this people:  Hearing, hear,
and understand not:  and see the vision, and know it not.
6:10. Blind the heart of this people, and make their ears heavy, and
shut their eyes:  lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their
ears, and understand with their heart, and be converted and I heal
6:11. And I said:  How long, O Lord?  And he said:  Until the cities be
wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land
shall be left desolate.
6:12. And the Lord shall remove men far away, and she shall be
multiplied that was left in the midst of the earth.
6:13. And there shall be still a tithing therein, and she shall turn,
and shall be made a show as a turpentine tree, and as an oak that
spreadeth its branches:  that which shall stand therein, shall be a holy
Isaias Chapter 7
The prophet assures king Achaz that the two kings his enemies shall not
take Jerusalem.  A virgin shall conceive and bear a son.
7:1. And it came to pass in the days of Achaz the son of Joathan, the
son of Ozias, king of Juda, that Rasin king of Syria and Phacee the son
of Romelia king of Israel, came up to Jerusalem, to fight against it:
but they could not prevail over it.
7:2. And they told the house of David, saying:  Syria hath rested upon
Ephraim, and his heart was moved, and the heart of his people, as the
trees of the woods are moved with the wind.
7:3. And the Lord said to Isaias:  Go forth to meet Achaz, thou and
Jasub thy son that is left, to the conduit of the upper pool in the way
of the fuller's field.
7:4. And thou shalt say to him:  See thou be quiet:  fear not, and let
not thy heart be afraid of the two tails of these firebrands, smoking
with the wrath of the fury of Rasin king of Syria, and of the son of
7:5. Because Syria hath taken counsel against thee, unto the evil of
Ephraim and the son of Romelia, saying:
7:6. Let us go up to Juda, and rouse it up, and draw it away to us, and
make the son of Tabeel king in the midst thereof.
7:7. Thus saith the Lord God:  It shall not stand, and this shall not
7:8. But the head of Syria is Damascus, and the head of Damascus is
Rasin:  and within threescore and five years, Ephraim shall cease to be
7:9. And the head of Ephraim is Samaria, and the head of Samaria is the
son of Romelia.  If you will not believe, you shall not continue.
7:10. And the Lord spoke again to Achaz, saying:
7:11. Ask thee a sign of the Lord thy God, either unto the depth of
hell, or unto the height above.
7:12. And Achaz said:  I will not ask, and I will not tempt the Lord.
7:13. And he said:  Hear ye therefore, O house of David:  Is it a small
thing for you to be grievous to men, that you are grievous to my God
7:14. Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign.  Behold a virgin
shall conceive, and bear a son and his name shall be called Emmanuel.
7:15. He shall eat butter and honey, that he may know to refuse the
evil, and to choose the good.
7:16. For before the child know to refuse the evil and to choose the
good, the land which thou abhorrest shall be forsaken of the face of
her two kings.
7:17. The Lord shall bring upon thee, and upon thy people, and upon the
house of thy father, days that have not come since the time of the
separation of Ephraim from Juda with the king of the Assyrians.
7:18. And it shall come to pass in that day, that the Lord shall hiss
for the fly, that is in the uttermost parts of the rivers of Egypt, and
for the bee that is in the land of Assyria.
7:19. And they shall come, and shall all of them rest in the torrents
of the valleys, and in the holes of the rocks, and upon all places set
with shrubs, and in all hollow places.
7:20. In that day the Lord shall shave with a razor that is hired by
them that are beyond the river, by the king of the Assyrians, the head
and the hairs of the feet, and the whole beard.
7:21. And it shall come to pass in that day, that a man shall nourish a
young cow, and two sheep.
7:22. And for the abundance of milk he shall eat butter:  for butter and
honey shall every one eat that shall be left in the midst of the land.
7:23. And it shall come to pass in that day, that every place where
there were a thousand vines, at a thousand pieces of silver, shall
become thorns and briers.
7:24. With arrows and with bows they shall go in thither:  for briers
and thorns shall be in all the land.
7:25. And as for the hills that shall be raked with a rake, the fear of
thorns and briers shall not come thither, but they shall be for the ox
to feed on, and the lesser cattle to tread upon.
Isaias Chapter 8
The name of a child that is to be born:  many evils shall come upon the
Jews for their sins.
8:1. And the Lord said to me:  Take thee a great book, and write in it
with a man's pen.  Take away the spoils with speed, quickly take the
8:2. And I took unto me faithful witnesses, Urias the priest, and
Zacharias the son of Barachias.
8:3. And I went to the prophetess, and she conceived, and bore a son.
And the Lord said to me:  Call his name, Hasten to take away the spoils:
Make hast to take away the prey.
8:4. For before the child know to call his father and his mother, the
strength of Damascus, and the spoils of Samaria shall be taken away
before the king of the Assyrians.
8:5. And the Lord spoke to me again, saying:
8:6. Forasmuch as this people hath cast away the waters of Siloe, that
go with silence, and hath rather taken Rasin, and the son of Romelia:
8:7. Therefore behold the Lord will bring upon them the waters of the
river strong and many, the king of the Assyrians, and all his glory:
and he shall come up over all his channels, and shall overflow all his
8:8. And shall pass through Juda, overflowing, and going over shall
reach even to the neck.  And the stretching out of his wings shall fill
the breadth of thy, land, O Emmanuel.
8:9. Gather yourselves together, O ye people, and be overcome, and give
ear, all ye lands afar off:  strengthen yourselves, and be overcome,
gird yourselves, and be overcome.
8:10. Take counsel together, and it shall be defeated:  speak a word,
and it shall not be done:  because God is with us.
8:11. For thus saith the Lord to me:  As he hath taught me, with a
strong arm, that I should not walk in the way of this people, saying:
8:12. Say ye not:  A conspiracy:  for all that this people speaketh, is a
conspiracy:  neither fear ye their fear, nor be afraid.
8:13. Sanctify the Lord of hosts himself:  and let him be your fear, and
let him be your dread.
8:14. And he shall be a sanctification to you.  But for a stone of
stumbling, and for a rock of offence to the two houses of Israel, for a
snare and a ruin to the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
8:15. And very many of them shall stumble and fall, and shall be broken
in pieces, and shall be snared, and taken.
8:16. Bind up the testimony, seal the law among my disciples.
8:17. And I will wait for the Lord, who hath hid his face from the
house of Jacob, and I will look for him.
8:18. Behold I and my children, whom the Lord hath given me for a sign,
and for a wonder in Israel from the Lord of hosts, who dwelleth in
8:19. And when they shall say to you:  Seek of pythons, and of diviners,
who mutter in their enchantments:  should not the people seek of their
God, for the living of the dead?
Seek of pythons. . .That is, people pretending to tell future things by
a prophesying spirit.--Ibid.  Should not the people seek of their God,
for the living of the dead?. . .Here is signified, that it is to God we
should pray to be directed, and not to seek of the dead, (that is, of
fortune-tellers dead in sin,) for the health of the living.
8:20. To the law rather, and to the testimony.  And if they speak not
according to this word, they shall not have the morning light.
8:21. And they shall pass by it, they shall fall, and be hungry:  and
when they shall be hungry, they will be angry, and curse their king,
and their God, and look upwards.
8:22. And they shall look to the earth, and behold trouble and
darkness, weakness and distress, and a mist following them, and they
cannot fly away from their distress.
Isaias Chapter 9
What joy shall come after afflictions by the birth and kingdom of
Christ; which shall flourish for ever.  Judgments upon Israel for their
9:1. At the first time the land of Zabulon, and the land of Nephtali
was lightly touched:  and at the last the way of the sea beyond the
Jordan of the Galilee of the Gentiles was heavily loaded.
9:2. The people that walked in darkness, have seen a great light:  to
them that dwelt in the region of the shadow of death, light is risen.
9:3. Thou hast multiplied the nation, and hast not increased the joy.
They shall rejoice before thee, as they that rejoice in the harvest, as
conquerors rejoice after taking a prey, when they divide the spoils.
9:4. For the yoke of their burden, and the rod of their shoulder, and
the sceptre of their oppressor thou hast overcome, as in the day of
9:5. For every violent taking of spoils, with tumult, and garment
mingled with blood, shall be burnt, and be fuel for the fire.
9:6. For a CHILD IS BORN to us, and a son is given to us, and the
government is upon his shoulder:  and his name shall be called
Wonderful, Counsellor, God the Mighty, the Father of the world to come,
the Prince of Peace.
9:7. His empire shall be multiplied, and there shall be no end of
peace:  he shall sit upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom; to
establish it and strengthen it with judgment and with justice, from
henceforth and for ever:  the zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform
9:8. The Lord sent a word into Jacob, and it hath lighted upon Israel.
9:9. And all the people of Ephraim shall know, and the inhabitants of
Samaria that say in the pride and haughtiness of their heart:
9:10. The bricks are fallen down, but we will build with square stones:
they have cut down the sycamores, but we will change them for cedars.
9:11. And the Lord shall set up the enemies of Rasin over him, and
shall bring on his enemies in a crowd:
9:12. The Syrians from the east, and, the Philistines from the west:
and they shall devour Israel with open mouth.  For all this his
indignation is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still.
9:13. And the people are not returned to him who hath struck them, and
have not sought after the Lord of hosts.
9:14. And the Lord shall destroy out of Israel the head and the tail,
him that bendeth down, and him that holdeth back, in one day.
9:15. The aged and honourable, he is the head:  and the prophet that
teacheth lies, he is the tail.
9:16. And they that call this people blessed, shall cause them to err:
and they that are called blessed, shall be thrown down, headlong.
9:17. Therefore the Lord shall have no joy in their young men:  neither
shall he have mercy on their fatherless, and widows:  for every one is a
hypocrite and wicked, and every mouth hath spoken folly.  For all this
his indignation is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out
9:18. For wickedness is kindled as a fire, it shall devour the brier
and the thorn:  and shall kindle in the thicket of the forest, and it
shall be wrapped up in smoke ascending on high.
9:19. By the wrath of the Lord of hosts the land is troubled, and the
people shall be as fuel for the fire:  no man shall spare his brother.
9:20. And he shall turn to the right hand, and shall be hungry:  and
shall eat on the left hand, and shall not be filled:  every one shall
eat the flesh of his own arm:  Manasses Ephraim, and Ephraim Manasses,
and they together shall be against Juda.
9:21. After all these things his indignation is not turned away, but
his hand is stretched out still.
Isaias Chapter 10
Woe to the makers of wicked laws.  The Assyrian shall be a rod for
punishing Israel:  but for their pride they shall be destroyed:  and a
remnant of Israel saved.
10:1. Woe to them that make wicked laws:  and when they write, write
10:2. To oppress the poor in judgment, and do violence to the cause of
the humble of my people:  that widows might be their prey, and that they
might rob the fatherless.
10:3. What will you do in the day of visitation, and of the calamity
which cometh from afar?  to whom will ye flee for help?  and where will
ye leave your glory?
10:4. That you be not bowed down under the bond, and fall with the
slain?  In all these things his anger is not turned away, but his hand
is stretched out still.
10:5. Woe to the Assyrian, he is the rod and the staff of my anger, and
my indignation is in their hands.
10:6. I will send him to a deceitful nation, and I will give him a
charge against the people of my wrath, to take away the spoils, and to
lay hold on the prey, and to tread them down like the mire of the
10:7. But he shall not take it so, and his heart shall not think so:
but his heart shall be set to destroy, and to cut off nations not a
10:8. For he shall say:
10:9. Are not my princes as so many kings?  is not Calano as Charcamis:
and Emath as Arphad?  is not Samaria as Damascus?
10:10. As my hand hath found the kingdoms of the idol, so also their
idols of Jerusalem, and of Samaria.
10:11. Shall I not, as I have done to Samaria and her idols, so do to
Jerusalem and her idols?
10:12. And it shall come to pass, that when the Lord shall have
performed all his works in mount Sion, and in Jerusalem, I will visit
the fruit of the proud heart of the king of Assyria, and the glory of
the haughtiness of his eyes.
10:13. For he hath said:  By the strength of my own hand I have done it,
and by my own wisdom I have understood:  and I have removed the bounds
of the people, and have taken the spoils of the princes, and as a
mighty man hath pulled down them that sat on high.
10:14. And my hand hath found the strength of the people as a nest; and
as eggs are gathered, that are left, so have I gathered all the earth:
and there was none that moved the wing, or opened the mouth, or made
the least noise.
10:15. Shall the axe boast itself against him that cutteth with it?  or
shall the saw exalt itself against him by whom it is drawn?  as if a rod
should lift itself up against him that lifteth it up, and a staff exalt
itself, which is but wood.
10:16. Therefore the sovereign Lord, the Lord of hosts, shall send
leanness among his fat ones:  and under his glory shall be kindled a
burning, as it were the burning of a fire.
10:17. And the light of Israel shall be as a fire, and the Holy One
thereof as a flame:  and his thorns and his briers shall be set on fire,
and shall be devoured in one day.
10:18. And the glory of his forest, and of his beautiful hill, shall be
consumed from the soul even to the flesh, and he shall run away through
10:19. And they that remain of the trees of his forest shall be so few,
that they shall easily be numbered, and a child shall write them down.
10:20. And it shall come to pass in that day, that the remnant of
Israel, and they that shall escape of the house of Jacob, shall lean no
more upon him that striketh them:  but they shall lean upon the Lord the
Holy One of Israel, in truth.
10:21. The remnant shall be converted, the remnant, I say, of Jacob, to
the mighty God.
10:22. For if thy people, O Israel, shall be as the sand of the sea, a
remnant of them shall be converted, the consumption abridged shall
overflow with justice.
A remnant of them shall be converted. . .This was partly verified in the
children of Israel who remained after the devastations of the
Assyrians, in the time of king Ezechias:  and partly in the conversion
of a remnant of the Jews to the faithful of Christ.--Ibid.  The
consumption abridged, etc. . .That is, the number of them cut short, and
reduced to few, shall flourish in abundance of justice.
10:23. For the Lord God of hosts shall make a consumption, and an
abridgment in the midst of all the land.
10:24. Therefore, thus saith the Lord the God of hosts:  O my people
that dwellest in Sion, be not afraid of the Assyrian:  he shall strike
thee with his rod, and he shall lift up his staff over thee in the way
10:25. For yet a little and a very little while, and my indignation
shall cease, and my wrath shall be upon their wickedness.
10:26. And the Lord of hosts shall raise up a scourge against him,
according to the slaughter of Madian in the rock of Oreb, and his rod
over the sea, and he shall lift it up in the way of Egypt.
10:27. And it shall come to pass in that day, that his burden shall be
taken away from off thy shoulder, and his yoke from off thy neck, and
the yoke shall putrefy at the presence of the oil.
At the presence of the oil. . .That is, by the sweet unction of divine
10:28. He shall come into Aiath, he shall pass into Magron:  at Machmas
he shall lay up his carriages.
Into Aiath, etc. . .Here the prophet describes the march of the
Assyrians under Sennacherib; and the terror they should carry with
them; and how they should suddenly be destroyed.
10:29. They have passed in haste, Gaba is our lodging:  Rama was
astonished, Gabaath of Saul fled away.
10:30. Lift up thy voice, O daughter of Gallim, attend, O Laisa, poor
10:31. Medemena is removed:  ye inhabitants of Gabim, take courage.
10:32. It is yet day enough, to remain in Nobe:  he shall shake his hand
against the mountain of the daughter of Sion, the hill of Jerusalem.
10:33. Behold the sovereign Lord of hosts shall break the earthen
vessel with terror, and the tall of stature shall be cut down, and the
lofty shall be humbled.
10:34. And the thickets of the forest shall be cut down with iron, and
Libanus with its high ones shall fall.
Isaias Chapter 11
Of the spiritual kingdom of Christ, to which all nations shall repair.
11:1. And there shall come forth a rod out of the root of Jesse, and a
flower shall rise up out of his root.
11:2. And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him:  the spirit of
wisdom, and of understanding, the spirit of counsel, and of fortitude,
the spirit of knowledge, and of godliness.
11:3. And he shall be filled with the spirit of the fear of the Lord,
He shall not judge according to the sight of the eyes, nor reprove
according to the hearing of the ears.
11:4. But he shall judge the poor with justice, and shall reprove with
equity the meek of the earth:  and he shall strike the earth with the
rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall slay the
11:5. And justice shall be the girdle of his loins:  and faith the
girdle of his reins.
11:6. The wolf shall dwell with the lamb:  and the leopard shall lie
down with the kid:  the calf and the lion, and the sheep shall abide
together, and a little child shall lead them.
11:7. The calf and the bear shall feed:  their young ones shall rest
together:  and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
11:8. And the sucking child shall play on other hole of the asp:  and
the weaned child shall thrust his hand into the den of the basilisk.
11:9. They shall not hurt, nor shall they kill in all my holy mountain,
for the earth is filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the covering
waters of the sea.
11:10. In that day the root of Jesse, who standeth for an ensign of the
people, him the Gentiles shall beseech, and his sepulchre shall be
11:11. And it shall come to pass in that day, that the Lord shall set
his hand the second time to possess the remnant of his people, which
shall be left from the Assyrians, and from Egypt, and from Phetros, and
from Ethiopia, and from Elam, and from Sennaar, and from Emath, and
from the islands of the sea.
11:12. And he shall set up a standard unto the nations, and shall
assemble the fugitives of Israel, and shall gather together the
dispersed of Juda from the four quarters of the earth.
11:13. And the envy of Ephraim shall be taken away, and the enemies of
Juda shall perish:  Ephraim shall not envy Juda, and Juda shall not
fight against Ephraim.
11:14. But they shall fly upon the shoulders of the Philistines by the
sea, they together shall spoil the children of the east:  Edom, till
Moab shall be under the rule of their hand, and the children of Ammon
shall be obedient.
11:15. And the Lord shall lay waste the tongue of the sea of Egypt, and
shall lift up his hand over the river in the strength of his spirit:
and he shall strike it in the seven streams, so that men may pass
through it in their shoes.
11:16. And there shall be a highway for the remnant of my people, which
shall be left from the Assyrians:  as there was for Israel in the day
that he came up out of the land of Egypt.
Isaias Chapter 12
A canticle of thanksgiving for the benefits of Christ.
12:1. And thou shalt say in that day:  I will give thanks to thee, O
Lord, for thou wast angry with me:  thy wrath is turned away, and thou
hast comforted me.
12:2. Behold, God is my saviour, I will deal confidently, and will not
fear:  because the Lord is my strength, and my praise, and he is become
my salvation.
12:3. Thou shall draw waters with joy out of the saviour's fountains:
12:4. And you shall say in that day:  Praise ye the Lord, and call upon
his name:  make his works known among the people:  remember that his name
12:5. Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath done great things:  shew this
forth in all the earth.
12:6. Rejoice, and praise, O thou habitation of Sion:  for great is he
that is in the midst of thee, the Holy One of Israel.
Isaias Chapter 13
The desolation of Babylon.
13:1. The burden of Babylon which Isaias the son of Amos saw.
The burden of Babylon. . .That is, a prophecy against Babylon.
13:2. Upon the dark mountain lift ye up a banner, exalt the voice, lift
up the hand, and let the rulers go into the gates.
13:3. I have commanded my sanctified ones, and have called my strong
ones in my wrath, them that rejoice in my glory.
13:4. The noise of a multitude in the mountains, as it were of many
people, the noise of the sound of kings, of nations gathered together:
the Lord of hosts hath given charge to the troops of war.
13:5. To them that come from a country afar off, from the end of
heaven:  the Lord and the instruments of his wrath, to destroy the whole
13:6. Howl ye, for the day of the Lord is near:  it shall come as a
destruction from the Lord.
13:7. Therefore shall all hands be faint, and every heart of man shall
13:8. And shall be broken.  Gripings and pains, shall take hold of them,
they shall be in pain as a woman in labour.  Every one shall be amazed
at his neighbour, their countenances shall be as faces burnt.
13:9. Behold, the day of the Lord shall come, a cruel day, and full of
indignation, and of wrath, and fury, to lay the land desolate, and to
destroy the sinners thereof out of it.
13:10. For the stars of heaven, and their brightness shall not display
their light:  the sun shall be darkened in his rising, and the moon
shall not shine with her light.
13:11. And I will visit the evils of the world, and against the wicked
for their iniquity:  and I will make the pride of infidels to cease, and
will bring down the arrogancy of the mighty.
13:12. A man shall be more precious than gold, yea a man than the
finest of gold.
13:13. For this I will trouble the heaven:  and the earth shall be moved
out of her place, for the indignation of the Lord of hosts, and for the
day of his fierce wrath.
13:14. And they shall be as a doe fleeing away, and as a sheep:  and
there shall be none to gather them together:  every man shall turn to
his own people, and every one shall flee to his own land.
13:15. Every one that shall be found, shall be slain:  and every one
that shall come to their aid, shall fall by the sword.
13:16. Their inhabitants shall be dashed in pieces before their eyes:
their houses shall be pillaged, and their wives shall be ravished.
13:17. Behold I will stir up the Medes against them, who shall not seek
silver, nor desire gold:
13:18. But with their arrows they shall kill the children, and shall
have no pity upon the sucklings of the womb, and their eye shall not
spare their sons.
13:19. And that Babylon, glorious among kingdoms, the famous pride of
the Chaldeans, shall be even as the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrha.
13:20. It shall no more be inhabited for ever, and it shall not be
founded unto generation and generation:  neither shall the Arabian pitch
his tents there, nor shall shepherds rest there.
13:21. But wild beasts shall rest there, and their houses shall be
filled with serpents, and ostriches shall dwell there, and the hairy
ones shall dance there:
13:22. And owls shall answer one another there, in the houses thereof,
and sirens in the temples of pleasure.
Isaias Chapter 14
The restoration of Israel after their captivity.  The parable or song
insulting over the king of Babylon.  A prophecy against the Philistines.
14:1. Her time is near at hand, and her days shall not be prolonged.
For the Lord will have mercy on Jacob, and will yet choose out of
Israel, and will make them rest upon their own ground:  and the stranger
shall be joined with them, and shall adhere to the house of Jacob.
14:2. And the people shall take them, and bring them into their place:
and the house of Israel shall possess them in the land of the Lord for
servants and handmaids:  and they shall make them captives that had
taken them, and shall subdue their oppressors.
14:3. And it shall come to pass in that day, that when God shall give
thee rest from thy labour, and from thy vexation, and from the hard
bondage, wherewith thou didst serve before,
14:4. Thou shalt take up this parable against the king of Babylon, and
shalt say:  How is the oppressor come to nothing, the tribute hath
14:5. The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked, the rod of the
14:6. That struck the people in wrath with an incurable wound, that
brought nations under in fury, that persecuted in a cruel manner.
14:7. The whole earth is quiet and still, it is glad and hath rejoiced.
14:8. The fir trees also have rejoiced over thee, and the cedars of
Libanus, saying:  Since thou hast slept, there hath none come up to cut
14:9. Hell below was in an uproar to meet thee at thy coming, it
stirred up the giants for thee.  All the princes of the earth are risen
up from their thrones, all the princes of nations.
14:10. All shall answer, and say to thee:  Thou also art wounded as well
as we, thou art become like unto us.
14:11. Thy pride is brought down to hell, thy carcass is fallen down:
under thee shall the moth be strewed, and worms shall be thy covering.
14:12. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, who didst rise in
the morning?  how art thou fallen to the earth, that didst wound the
O Lucifer. . .O day star.  All this, according to the letter, is spoken
of the king of Babylon.  It may also be applied, in a spiritual sense,
to Lucifer the prince of devils, who was created a bright angel, but
fell by pride and rebellion against God.
14:13. And thou saidst in thy heart:  I will ascend into heaven, I will
exalt my throne above the stars of God, I will sit in the mountain of
the covenant, in the sides of the north.
14:14. I will ascend above the height of the clouds, I will be like the
14:15. But yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, into the depth of
14:16. They that shall see thee, shall turn toward thee, and behold
thee.  Is this the man that troubled the earth, that shook kingdoms,
14:17. That made the world a wilderness, and destroyed the cities
thereof, that opened not the prison to his prisoners?
14:18. All the kings of the nations have all of them slept in glory,
every one in his own house.
14:19. But thou art cast out of thy grave, as an unprofitable branch
defiled, and wrapped up among them that were slain by the sword, and
art gone down to the bottom of the pit, as a rotten carcass.
14:20. Thou shalt not keep company with them, even in burial:  for thou
hast destroyed thy land, thou hast slain thy people:  the seed of the
wicked shall not be named for ever.
14:21. Prepare his children for slaughter for the iniquity of their
fathers:  they shall not rise up, nor inherit the land, nor fill the
face of the world with cities.
14:22. And I will rise up against them, saith the Lord of hosts:  and I
will destroy the name of Babylon, and the remains, and the bud, and the
offspring, saith the Lord.
14:23. And I will make it a possession for the ericius and pools of
waters, and I will sweep it and wear it out with a besom, saith the
Lord of hosts.
14:24. The Lord of hosts hath sworn, saying:  Surely as I have thought,
so shall it be:  and as I have purposed,
14:25. So shall it fall out:  That I will destroy the Assyrian in my
land, and upon my mountains tread him under foot:  and his yoke shall be
taken away from them, and his burden shall be taken off their shoulder.
14:26. This is the counsel, that I have purposed upon all the earth,
and this is the hand that is stretched out upon all nations.
14:27. For the Lord of hosts hath decreed, and who can disannul it?  and
his hand is stretched out:  and who shall turn it away?
14:28. In the year that king Achaz died, was this burden:
14:29. Rejoice not thou, whole Philistia, that the rod of him that
struck thee is broken in pieces:  for out of the root of the serpent
shall come forth a basilisk, and his seed shall swallow the bird.
14:30. And the firstborn of the poor shall be fed, and the poor shall
rest with confidence:  and I will make thy root perish with famine, and
I will kill thy remnant.
14:31. Howl, O gate; cry, O city:  all Philistia is thrown down:  for a
smoke shall come from the north, and there is none that shall escape
14:32. And what shall be answered to the messengers of the nations?
That the Lord hath founded Sion, and the poor of his people shall hope
Isaias Chapter 15
A prophecy of the desolation of the Moabites.
15:1. The burden of Moab.  Because in the night Ar of Moab is laid
waste, it is silent:  because the wall of Moab is destroyed in the
night, it is silent.
15:2. The house is gone up, and Dibon to the high places to mourn over
Nabo, and over Medaba, Moab hath howled:  on all their heads shall be
baldness, and every beard shall be shaven.
15:3. In their streets they are girded with sackcloth:  on the tops of
their houses, and in their streets all shall howl and come down
15:4. Hesebon shall cry, and Eleale, their voice is heard even to Jasa.
For this shall the well appointed men of Moab howl, his soul shall howl
15:5. My heart shall cry to Moab, the bars thereof shall flee unto
Segor a heifer of three years old:  for by the ascent of Luith they
shall go up weeping:  and in the way of Oronaim they shall lift up a cry
of destruction.
15:6. For the waters of Nemrim shall be desolate, for the grass is
withered away, the spring is faded, all the greenness is perished.
15:7. According to the greatness of their work, is their visitation
also:  they shall lead them to the torrent of the willows.
Torrent of the willows. . .That is, as some say, the waters of Babylon:
others render it, a valley of the Arabians.
15:8. For the cry is gone round about the border of Moab:  the howling
thereof unto Gallim, and unto the well of Elim the cry thereof.
15:9. For the waters of Dibon are filled with blood:  for I will bring
more upon Dibon:  the lion upon them that shall flee of Moab, and upon
the remnant of the land.
Isaias Chapter 16
The prophet prayeth for Christ's coming.  The affliction of the Moabites
for their pride.
16:1. Send forth, O Lord, the lamb, the ruler of the earth, from Petra
of the desert, to the mount of the daughter of Sion.
16:2. And it shall come to pass, that as a bird fleeing away, and as
young ones flying out of the nest, so shall the daughters of Moab be in
the passage of Arnon.
16:3. Take counsel, gather a council:  make thy shadow as the night in
the midday:  hide them that flee, and betray not them that wander about.
16:4. My fugitives shall dwell with thee:  O Moab, be thou a covert to
them from the face of the destroyer:  for the dust is at an end, the
wretch is consumed:  he hath failed, that trod the earth under foot.
16:5. And a throne shall be prepared in mercy, and one shall sit upon
it in truth in the tabernacle of David, judging and seeking judgment
and quickly rendering that which is just.
16:6. We have heard of the pride of Moab, he is exceeding proud:  his
pride and his arrogancy, and his indignation is more than his strength.
16:7. Therefore shall Moab howl to Moab, every one shall howl:  to them
that rejoice upon the brick walls, tell ye their stripes.
16:8. For the suburbs of Hesebon are desolate, and the lords of the
nations have destroyed the vineyard of Sabama:  the branches thereof
have reached even to Jazer:  they have wandered in the wilderness, the
branches thereof are left, they are gone over the sea.
16:9. Therefore I will lament with the weeping of Jazer the vineyard of
Sabama:  I will water thee with my tears, O Hesebon, and Eleale:  for the
voice of the treaders hath rushed in upon thy vintage, and upon thy
16:10. And gladness and joy shall be taken away from Carmel, and there
shall be no rejoicing nor shouting in the vineyards.  He shall not tread
out wine in the press that was wont to tread it out:  the voice of the
treaders I have taken away.
Carmel. . .This name is often taken to signify a fair and fruitful hill
or field, such as mount Carmel is.
16:11. Wherefore my bowels shall sound like a harp for Moab, and my
inward parts for the brick wall.
16:12. And it shall come to pass, when it is seen that Moab is wearied
on his high places, that he shall go in to his sanctuaries to pray, and
shall not prevail.
16:13. This is the word, that the Lord spoke to Moab from that time:
16:14. And now the Lord hath spoken, saying:  In three years, as the
years of a hireling, the glory of Moab shall be taken away for all the
multitude of the people, and it shall be left small and feeble, not
Isaias Chapter 17
Judgments upon Damascus and Samaria.  The overthrow of the Assyrians.
17:1. The burden of Damascus.  Behold Damascus shall cease to be a city,
and shall be as a ruinous heap of stones.
17:2. The cities of Aroer shall be left for flocks, and they shall rest
there, and there shall be none to make them afraid.
17:3. And aid shall cease from Ephraim, and the kingdom from Damascus:
and the remnant of Syria shall be as the glory of the children of
Israel:  saith the Lord of hosts.
17:4. And it shall come to pass in that day, that the glory of Jacob
shall be made thin, and the fatness of his flesh shall grow lean.
17:5. And it shall be as when one gathereth in the harvest that which
remaineth, and his arm shall gather the ears of corn:  and it shall be
as he that seeketh ears in the vale of Raphaim.
17:6. And the fruit thereof that shall be left upon it, shall be as one
cluster of grapes, and as the shaking of the olive tree, two or three
berries in the top of a bough, or four or five upon the top of the
tree, saith the Lord the God of Israel.
17:7. In that day man shall bow down himself to his Maker, and his eyes
shall look to the Holy One of Israel.
17:8. And he shall not look to the altars which his hands made; and he
shall not have respect to the things that his fingers wrought, such as
groves and temples.
17:9. In that day his strong cities shall be forsaken, as the ploughs,
and the corn that were left before the face of the children of Israel,
and thou shalt be desolate.
That were left. . .Viz., by the Chanaanites, when the children of Israel
came into their land.
17:10. Because thou hast forgotten God thy saviour, and hast not
remembered thy strong helper:  therefore shalt thou plant good plants,
and shalt sow strange seed.
17:11. In the day of thy planting shall be the wild grape, and in the
morning thy seed shall flourish:  the harvest is taken away in the day
of inheritance, and shall grieve thee much.
17:12. Woe to the multitude of many people, like the multitude of the
roaring sea:  and the tumult of crowds, like the noise of many waters.
The multitude, etc. . .This and all that follows to the end of the
chapter, relates to the Assyrian army under Sennacherib.
17:13. Nations shall make a noise like the noise of waters overflowing,
but he shall rebuke him, and he shall flee far off:  and he shall be
carried away as the dust of the mountains before the wind, and as a
whirlwind before a tempest.
17:14. In the time of the evening, behold there shall be trouble:  the
morning shall come, and he shall not be:  this is the portion of them
that have wasted us, and the lot of them that spoiled us.
Isaias Chapter 18
A woe to the Ethiopians, who fed Israel with vain hopes, their future
18:1. Woe to the land, the winged cymbal, which is beyond the rivers of
18:2. That sendeth ambassadors by the sea, and in vessels of bulrushes
upon the waters.  Go, ye swift angels, to a nation rent and torn in
pieces:  to a terrible people, after which there is no other:  to a
nation expecting and trodden underfoot, whose land the rivers have
Angels. . .Or messengers.
18:3. All ye inhabitants of the world, who dwell on the earth, when the
sign shall be lifted up on the mountains, you shall see, and you shall
hear the sound of the trumpet.
18:4. For thus saith the Lord to me:  I will take my rest, and consider
in my place, as the noon light is clear, and as a cloud of dew in the
day of harvest.
18:5. For before the harvest it was all flourishing, and it shall bud
without perfect ripeness, and the sprigs thereof shall be cut off with
pruning hooks:  and what is left shall be cut away and shaken out.
18:6. And they shall be left together to the birds of the mountains,
and the beasts of the earth:  and the fowls shall be upon them all the
summer, and all the beasts of the earth shall winter upon them.
18:7. At that time shall a present be brought to the Lord of hosts,
from a people rent and torn in pieces:  from a terrible people, after
which there hath been no other:  from a nation expecting, expecting and
trodden under foot, whose land the rivers have spoiled, to the place of
the name of the Lord of hosts, to mount Sion.
Isaias Chapter 19
The punishment of Egypt:  their call to the church.
19:1. The burden of Egypt.  Behold the Lord will ascend upon a swift
cloud, and will enter into Egypt, and the idols of Egypt shall be moved
at his presence, and the heart of Egypt shall melt in the midst
19:2. And I will set the Egyptians to fight against the Egyptians:  and
they shall fight brother against brother, and friend against friend,
city against city, kingdom against kingdom.
19:3. And the spirit of Egypt shall be broken in the bowels thereof,
and I will cast down their counsel:  and they shall consult their idols,
and their diviners, and their wizards, and soothsayers.
19:4. And I will deliver Egypt into the hand of cruel masters, and a
strong king shall rule over them, saith the Lord the God of hosts.
19:5. And the water of the sea shall be dried up, and the river shall
be wasted and dry.
19:6. And the rivers shall fail:  the streams of the banks shall be
diminished, and be dried up.  The reed and the bulrush shall wither
19:7. The channel of the river shall be laid bare from its fountain,
and every thing sown by the water shall be dried up, it shall wither
away, and shall be no more.
19:8. The fishers also shall mourn, and all that cast a hook into the
river shall lament, and they that spread nets upon the waters shall
languish away.
19:9. They shall be confounded that wrought in flax, combing and
weaving fine linen.
19:10. And its watery places shall be dry, all they shall mourn that
made pools to take fishes.
19:11. The princes of Tanis are become fools, the wise counsellors of
Pharao have given foolish counsel:  how will you say to Pharao:  I am the
son of the wise, the son of ancient kings?
19:12. Where are now thy wise men?  let them tell thee, and shew what
the Lord of hosts hath purposed upon Egypt.
19:13. The princes of Tanis are become fools, the princes of Memphis
are gone astray, they have deceived Egypt, the stay of the people
19:14. The Lord hath mingled in the midst thereof the spirit of
giddiness:  and they have caused Egypt to err in all its works, as a
drunken man staggereth and vomiteth.
19:15. And there shall be no work for Egypt, to make head or tail, him
that bendeth down, or that holdeth back.
19:16. In that day Egypt shall be like unto women, and they shall be
amazed, and afraid, because of the moving of the hand of the Lord of
hosts, which he shall move over it.
19:17. And the land of Juda shall be a terror to Egypt:  everyone that
shall remember it shall tremble because of the counsel of the Lord of
hosts, which he hath determined concerning it.
19:18. In that day there shall be five cities in the land of Egypt,
speaking the language of Chanaan, and swearing by the Lord of hosts:
one shall be called the city of the sun.
19:19. In that day there shall be an altar of the Lord in the midst of
the land of Egypt, and a monument of the Lord at the borders thereof:
19:20. It shall be for a sign, and for a testimony to the Lord of hosts
in the land of Egypt.  For they shall cry to the Lord because of the
oppressor, and he shall send them a Saviour and a defender to deliver
19:21. And the Lord shall be known by Egypt, and the Egyptians shall
know the Lord in that day, and shall worship him with sacrifices and
offerings:  and they shall make vows to the Lord, and perform them.
19:22. And the Lord shall strike Egypt with a scourge, and shall heal
it, and they shall return to the Lord, and he shall be pacified towards
them, and heal them.
19:23. In that day there shall be a way from Egypt to the Assyrians,
and the Assyrian shall enter into Egypt, and the Egyptian to the
Assyrians, and the Egyptians shall serve the Assyrian.
19:24. In that day shall Israel be the third to the Egyptian and the
Assyrian:  a blessing in the midst of the land,
19:25. Which the Lord of hosts hath blessed, saying:  Blessed be my
people of Egypt, and the work of my hands to the Assyrian:  but Israel
is my inheritance.
Isaias Chapter 20
The ignominious captivity of the Egyptians, and the Ethiopians.
20:1. In the year that Tharthan entered into Azotus, when Sargon the
king of the Assyrians had sent him, and he had fought against Azotus,
and had taken it:
20:2. At that same time the Lord spoke by the hand of Isaias the son of
Amos, saying Go, and loose the sackcloth from off thy loins, and take
off thy shoes from thy feet.  And he did so, and went naked, and
20:3. And the Lord said:  As my servant Isaias hath walked, naked and
barefoot, it shall be a sign and a wonder of three years upon Egypt,
and upon Ethiopia,
20:4. So shall the king of the Assyrians lead away the prisoners of
Egypt, and the captivity of Ethiopia, young and old, naked and
barefoot, with their buttocks uncovered to the shame of Egypt.
20:5. And they shall be afraid, and ashamed of Ethiopia their hope, and
of Egypt their glory.
20:6. And the inhabitants of this isle shall say in that day:  Lo this
was our hope, to whom we fled for help, to deliver us from the face of
the king of the Assyrians:  and how shall we be able to escape?
Isaias Chapter 21
The destruction of Babylon by the Medes and Persians:  a prophecy
against the Edomites and the Arabians.
21:1. The burden of the desert of the sea.  As whirlwinds come from the
south, it cometh from the desert from a terrible land.
The desert of the sea. . .So Babylon is here called, because from a city
as full of people as the sea is with water, it was become a desert.
21:2. A grievous vision is told me:  he that is unfaithful dealeth
unfaithfully:  and he that is a spoiler, spoileth.  Go up, O Elam,
besiege, O Mede:  I have made all the mourning thereof to cease.
O Elam. . .That is, O Persia.
21:3. Therefore are my loins filled with pain, anguish hath taken hold
of me, as the anguish of a woman in labour:  I fell down at the hearing
of it, I was troubled at the seeing of it.
21:4. My heart failed, darkness amazed me:  Babylon my beloved is become
a wonder to me.
21:5. Prepare the table, behold in the watchtower them that eat and
drink:  arise, ye princes, take up the shield.
21:6. For thus hath the Lord said to me:  Go, and set a watchman:  and
whatsoever he shall see, let him tell.
21:7. And he saw a chariot with two horsemen, a rider upon an ass, and
a rider upon a camel:  and he beheld them diligently with much heed.
A rider upon an ass, etc. . .These two riders are the kings of the
Persians and Medes.
21:8. And a lion cried out:  I am upon the watchtower of the Lord,
standing continually by day:  and I am upon my ward, standing whole
And a lion cried out. . .That is, I Isaias seeing the approaching ruin
of Babylon, have cried out as a lion roaring.
21:9. Behold this man cometh, the rider upon the chariot with two
horsemen, and he answered, and said:  Babylon is fallen, she is fallen,
and all the graven gods thereof are broken unto the ground.
21:10. O my thrashing, and the children of my floor, that which I have
heard of the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, I have declared unto
21:11. The burden of Duma calleth to me out of Seir:  Watchman, what of
the night?  watchman, what of the night?
Duma. . .That is, Idumea, or Edom.
21:12. The watchman said:  The morning cometh, also the night:  if you
seek, seek:  return, come.
21:13. The burden in Arabia.  In the forest at evening you shall sleep,
in the paths of Dedanim.
21:14. Meeting the thirsty bring him water, you that inhabit the land
of the south, meet with bread him that fleeth.
21:15. For they are fled from before the swords, from the sword that
hung over them, from the bent bow, from the face of a grievous battle.
21:16. For thus saith the Lord to me:  Within a year, according to the
years of a hireling, all the glory of Cedar shall be taken away.
Cedar. . .Arabia.
21:17. And the residue of the number of strong archers of the children
of Cedar shall be diminished:  for the Lord the God of Israel hath
Isaias Chapter 22
The prophet laments the devastation of Juda.  He foretells the
deprivation of Sobna, and the substitution of Eliacim, a figure of
22:1. The burden of the valley of vision.  What aileth thee also, that
thou too art wholly gone up to the housetops?
The valley of vision. . .Jerusalem.  The temple of Jerusalem was built
upon mount Moria, or the mountain of vision.  But the city is here
called the valley of vision; either because it was lower than the
temple, or because of the low condition to which it was to be reduced.
22:2. Full of clamour, a populous city, a joyous city:  thy slain are
not slain by the sword, nor dead in battle.
22:3. All the princes are fled together, and are bound hard:  all that
were found, are bound together, they are fled far off.
22:4. Therefore have I said:  Depart from me, I will weep bitterly:
labour not to comfort me, for the devastation of the daughter of my
22:5. For it is a day of slaughter and of treading down, and of weeping
to the Lord the God of hosts in the valley of vision, searching the
wall, and magnificent upon the mountain.
22:6. And Elam took the quiver, the chariot of the horseman, and the
shield was taken down from the wall.
22:7. And thy choice valleys shall be full of chariots, and the
horsemen shall place themselves in the gate.
22:8. And the covering of Juda shall be discovered, and thou shalt see
in that day the armoury of the house of the forest.
22:9. And you shall see the breaches of the city of David, that they
are many:  and you have gathered together the waters of the lower pool,
22:10. And have numbered the houses of Jerusalem, and broken down
houses to fortify the wall.
22:11. And you made a ditch between the two walls for the water of the
old pool:  and you have not looked up to the maker thereof, nor regarded
him even at a distance, that wrought it long ago.
22:12. And the Lord, the God of hosts, in that day shall call to
weeping, and to mourning, to baldness, and to girding with sackcloth:
22:13. And behold joy and gladness, killing calves, and slaying rams,
eating flesh, and drinking wine:  Let us eat and drink; for to morrow we
22:14. And the voice of the Lord of hosts was revealed in my ears:
Surely this iniquity shall not be forgiven you till you die, saith the
Lord God of hosts.
22:15. Thus saith the Lord God of hosts:  Go, get thee in to him that
dwelleth in the tabernacle, to Sobna who is over the temple:  and thou
shalt say to him:
22:16. What dost thou here, or as if thou wert somebody here?  for thou
hast hewed thee out a sepulchre here, thou hast hewed out a monument
carefully in a high place, a dwelling for thyself in a rock.
22:17. Behold the Lord will cause thee to be carried away, as a cock is
carried away, and he will lift thee up as a garment.
22:18. He will crown thee with a crown of tribulation, he will toss
thee like a ball into a large and spacious country:  there shalt thou
die, and there shall the chariot of thy glory be, the shame of the
house of thy Lord.
22:19. And I will drive thee out from thy station, and depose thee from
thy ministry.
22:20. And it shall come to pass in that day, that I will call my
servant Eliacim the son of Helcias,
22:21. And I will clothe him with thy robe, and will strengthen him
with thy girdle, and will give thy power into his hand:  and he shall be
as a father to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and to the house of Juda.
22:22. And I will lay the key of the house of David upon his shoulder:
and he shall open, and none shall shut:  and he shall shut, and none
22:23. And I will fasten him as a peg in a sure place, and he shall be
for a throne of glory to the house of his father.
22:24. And they shall hang upon him all the glory of his father's
house, divers kinds of vessels, every little vessel, from the vessels
of cups even to every instrument of music.
22:25. In that day, saith the Lord of hosts, shall the peg be removed,
that was fastened in the sure place:  and it shall be broken and shall
fall:  and that which hung thereon, shall perish, because the Lord hath
Isaias Chapter 23
The destruction of Tyre.  It shall be repaired again after seventy
23:1. The burden of Tyre.  Howl, ye ships of the sea, for the house is
destroyed, from whence they were wont to come:  from the land of Cethim
it is revealed to them.
23:2. Be silent, you that dwell in the island:  the merchants of Sidon
passing over the sea, have filled thee.
23:3. The seed of the Nile in many waters, the harvest of the river is
her revenue:  and she is become the mart of the nations.
23:4. Be thou ashamed, O Sidon:  for the sea speaketh, even the strength
of the sea, saying:  I have not been in labour, nor have I brought
forth, nor have I nourished up young men, nor brought up virgins.
23:5. When it shall be heard in Egypt, they will be sorry when they
shall hear of Tyre:
23:6. Pass over the seas, howl, ye inhabitants of the island.
23:7. Is not this your city, which gloried from of old in her
antiquity?  her feet shall carry her afar off to sojourn.
23:8. Who hath taken this counsel against Tyre, that was formerly
crowned, whose merchants were princes, and her traders the nobles of
23:9. The Lord of hosts hath designed it, to pull down the pride of all
glory, and bring to disgrace all the glorious ones of the earth.
23:10. Pass thy land as a river, O daughter of the sea, thou hast a
girdle no more.
23:11. He stretched out his hand over the sea, he troubled kingdoms:
the Lord hath given a charge against Chanaan, to destroy the strong
ones thereof.
23:12. And he said:  Thou shalt glory no more, O virgin daughter of
Sidon, who art oppressed:  arise and sail over to Cethim, there also
thou shalt have no rest.
23:13. Behold the land of the Chaldeans, there was not such a people,
the Assyrians founded it:  they have led away the strong ones thereof
into captivity, they have destroyed the houses thereof, they have,
brought it to ruin.
23:14. Howl, O ye ships of the sea, for your strength is laid waste.
23:15. And it shall come to pass in that day that thou, O Tyre, shalt
be forgotten, seventy years, according to the days of one king:  but
after seventy years, there shall be unto Tyre as the song of a harlot.
23:16. Take a harp, go about the city, harlot that hast been forgotten:
sing well, sing many a song, that thou mayst be remembered.
23:17. And it shall come to pass after seventy years, that the Lord
will visit Tyre, and will bring her back again to her traffic:  and she
shall commit fornication again with all the kingdoms of the world upon
the face of the earth.
23:18. And her merchandise and her hire shall be sanctified to the
Lord:  they shall not be kept in store, nor laid up:  for her merchandise
shall be for them that shall dwell before the Lord, that they may eat
unto fulness, and be clothed for a continuance.
Sanctified to the Lord. . .This alludes to the conversion of the
Isaias Chapter 24
The judgments of God upon all the sinners of the world.  A remnant shall
joyfully praise him.
24:1. Behold the Lord shall lay waste the earth, and shall strip it,
and shall afflict the face thereof, and scatter abroad the inhabitants
24:2. And it shall be as with the people, so with the priest:  and as
with the servant so with his master:  as with the handmaid, so with her
mistress:  as with the buyer, so with the seller:  as with the lender, so
with the borrower:  as with him that calleth for his money, so with him
24:3. With desolation shall the earth be laid waste, and it shall be
utterly spoiled:  for the Lord hath spoken this word.
24:4. The earth mourned, and faded away, and is weakened:  the world
faded away, the height of the people of the earth is weakened.
24:5. And the earth is infected by the inhabitants thereof:  because
they have transgressed the laws, they have changed the ordinance, they
have broken the everlasting covenant.
24:6. Therefore shall a curse devour the earth, and the inhabitants
thereof shall sin:  and therefore they that dwell therein shall be mad,
and few men shall be left.
24:7. The vintage hath mourned, the vine hath languished away, all the
merry have sighed.
24:8. The mirth of timbrels hath ceased, the noise of them that rejoice
is ended, the melody of the harp is silent.
24:9. They shall not drink wine with a song:  the drink shall be bitter
to them that drink it.
24:10. The city of vanity is broken down, every house is shut up, no
man cometh in.
24:11. There shall be a crying for wine in the streets:  all mirth is
forsaken:  the joy of the earth is gone away.
24:12. Desolation is left in the city, and calamity shall oppress the
24:13. For it shall be thus in the midst of the earth, in the midst of
the people, as if a few olives, that remain, should be shaken out of
the olive tree:  or grapes, when the vintage is ended.
24:14. These shall lift up their voice, and shall give praise:  when the
Lord shall be glorified, they shall make a joyful noise from the sea.
24:15. Therefore glorify ye the Lord in instruction:  the name of the
Lord God of Israel in the islands of the sea.
24:16. From the ends of the earth we have heard praises, the glory of
the just one.  And I said:  My secret to myself, my secret to myself, woe
is me:  the prevaricators have prevaricated, and with the prevarication
of transgressors they have prevaricated.
24:17. Fear, and the pit, and the snare are upon thee, O thou
inhabitant of the earth.
24:18. And it shall come to pass, that he that shall flee from the
noise of the fear, shall fall into the pit:  and he that shall rid
himself out of the pit, shall be taken in the snare:  for the
flood-gates from on high are opened, and the foundations of the earth
shall be shaken.
24:19. With breaking shall the earth be broken, with crushing shall the
earth be crushed, with trembling shall the earth be moved.
24:20. With shaking shall the earth be shaken as a drunken man, and
shall be removed as the tent of one night:  and the iniquity thereof
shall be heavy upon it, and it shall fall, and not rise again.
24:21. And it shall come to pass, that in that day the Lord shall visit
upon the host of heaven on high, and upon the kings of the earth, on
The host of heaven on high. . .The stars, which in many places of the
Scripture are so called.  Some commentators explain that these words
here signify the demons of the air.
24:22. And they shall be gathered together as in the gathering of one
bundle into the pit, and they shall be shut up there in prison:  and
after many days they shall be visited.
24:23. And the moon shall blush, and the sun shall be ashamed, when the
Lord of hosts shall reign in mount Sion, and in Jerusalem, and shall be
glorified in the sight of his ancients.
Isaias Chapter 25
A canticle of thanksgiving for God's judgments and benefits.
25:1. O Lord, thou art my God, I will exalt O thee, and give glory to
thy name:  for thou hast done wonderful things, thy designs of old
faithful, amen.
25:2. For thou hast reduced the city to a heap, the strong city to
ruin, the house of strangers, to be no city, and to be no more built up
25:3. Therefore shall a strong people praise thee, the city of mighty
nations shall fear thee.
25:4. Because thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the
needy in his distress:  a refuge from the whirlwind, a shadow from the
heat.  For the blast of the mighty is like a whirlwind beating against a
25:5. Thou shalt bring down the tumult of strangers, as heat in thirst:
and as with heat under a burning cloud, thou shalt make the branch of
the mighty to wither away.
25:6. And the Lord of hosts shall make unto all people in this
mountain, a feast of fat things, a feast of wine, of fat things full of
marrow, of wine purified from the lees.
25:7. And he shall destroy in this mountain the face of the bond with
which all people were tied, and the web that he began over all nations.
25:8. He shall cast death down headlong for ever:  and the Lord God
shall wipe away tears from every face, and the reproach of his people
he shall take away from off the whole earth:  for the Lord hath spoken
25:9. And they shall say in that day:  Lo, this is our God, we have
waited for him, and he will save us:  this is the Lord, we have
patiently waited for him, we shall rejoice and be joyful in his
25:10. For the hand of the Lord shall rest in this mountain:  and Moab
shall be trodden down under him, as straw is broken in pieces with the
Moab. . .That is, the reprobate, whose eternal punishment, from which
they can no way escape, is described under these figures.
25:11. And he shall stretch forth his hands under him, as he that
swimmeth stretcheth forth his hands to swim:  and he shall bring down
his glory with the dashing of his hands.
25:12. And the bulwarks of thy high walls shall fall, and be brought
low, and shall be pulled down to the ground, even to the dust.
Isaias Chapter 26
A canticle of thanks for the deliverance of God's people.
26:1. In that day shall this canticle be sung in the land of Juda.  Sion
the city of our strength a saviour, a wall and a bulwark shall be set
26:2. Open ye the gates, and let the just nation, that keepeth the
truth, enter in.
26:3. The old error is passed away:  thou wilt keep peace:  peace,
because we have hoped in thee.
26:4. You have hoped in the Lord for evermore, in the Lord God mighty
26:5. For he shall bring down them that dwell on high, the high city he
shall lay low.  He shall bring it down even to the ground, he shall pull
it down even to the dust.
26:6. The foot shall tread it down, the feet of the poor, the steps of
26:7. The way of the just is right, the path of the just is right to
26:8. And in the way of thy judgments, O Lord, we have patiently waited
for thee:  thy name, and thy remembrance are the desire of the soul.
26:9. My soul hath desired thee in the night:  yea, and with my spirit
within me in the morning early I will watch to thee.  When thou shalt do
thy judgments on the earth, the inhabitants of the world shall learn
26:10. Let us have pity on the wicked, but he will not learn justice:
in the land of the saints he hath done wicked things, and he shall not
see the glory of the Lord.
26:11. Lord, let thy hand be exalted, and let them not see:  let the
envious people see, and be confounded:  and let fire devour thy enemies.
26:12. Lord, thou wilt give us peace:  for thou hast wrought all our
works for us.
26:13. O Lord our God, other lords besides thee have had dominion over
us, only in thee let us remember thy name.
26:14. Let not the dead live, let not the giants rise again:  therefore
hast visited and destroyed them, and hast destroyed all their memory.
26:15. Thou hast been favourable to the nation, O Lord, thou hast been
favourable to the nation:  art thou glorified?  thou hast removed all the
ends of the earth far off.
26:16. Lord, they have sought after thee in distress, in the
tribulation of murmuring thy instruction was with them.
26:17. As a woman with child, when she draweth near the time of her
delivery, is in pain, and crieth out in her pangs:  so are we become in
thy presence, O Lord.
26:18. We have conceived, and been as it were in labour, and have
brought forth wind:  we have not wrought salvation on the earth,
therefore the inhabitants of the earth have not fallen.
26:19. Thy dead men shall live, my slain shall rise again:  awake, and
give praise, ye that dwell in the dust:  for thy dew is the dew of the
light:  and the land of the giants thou shalt pull down into ruin.
26:20. Go, my people, enter into thy chambers, shut thy doors upon
thee, hide thyself a little for a moment, until the indignation pass
26:21. For behold the Lord will come out of his place, to visit the
iniquity of the inhabitant of the earth against him:  and the earth
shall disclose her blood, and shall cover her slain no more.
Shall cover her slain no more. . .This is said with relation to the
martyrs, and their happy resurrection.
Isaias Chapter 27
The punishment of the oppressors of God's people.  The Lord's favour to
27:1. In that day the Lord with his hard, and great, and strong sword
shall visit leviathan the bar serpent, and leviathan the crooked
serpent, and shall slay the whale that is in the sea.
Leviathan. . .That is, the devil, the great enemy of the people of God.
He is called the bar serpent from his strength, and the crooked serpent
from his wiles; and the whale of the sea, from the tyranny he exercises
in the sea of this world.  He was spiritually slain by the death of
Christ, when his power was destroyed.
27:2. In that day there shall be singing to the vineyard of pure wine.
The vineyard, etc. . .The church of Christ.
27:3. I am the Lord that keep it, I will suddenly give it drink:  lest
any hurt come to it, I keep it night and day.
I will suddenly give it drink. . .Or, as the Hebrew may also be
rendered, I will continually water it.
27:4. There is no indignation in me:  who shall make me a thorn and a
brier in battle:  shall I march against it, shall, I set it on fire
No indignation in me, etc. . .Viz., against the church:  nor shall I
become as a thorn or brier in its regard; or march against it, or set
it on fire:  but it shall always take fast hold of me, and keep an
everlasting peace with me.
27:5. Or rather shall it take hold of my strength, shall it make peace
with me, shall it make peace with me?
27:6. When they shall rush in unto Jacob, Israel shall blossom and bud,
and they shall fill the face of the world with seed.
When they shall rush in, etc. . .Some understand this of the enemies of
the true Israel, that shall invade it in vain.  Others of the spiritual
invasion made by the apostles of Christ.
27:7. Hath he struck him according to the stroke of him that struck
him?  or is he slain, as he killed them that were slain by him?
Hath he struck him, etc. . .Hath God punished the carnal persecuting
Jews, in proportion to their doings against Christ and his saints?
27:8. In measure against measure, when it shall be cast off, thou shalt
judge it.  He hath meditated with his severe spirit in the day of heat.
When it shall be cast off, etc. . .When the synagogue shall be cast off,
thou shalt judge it in measure, and in proportion to its crimes.--Ibid.
He hath meditated, etc. . .God hath designed severe punishments in the
day of his wrath.
27:9. Therefore upon this shall the iniquity of the house of Jacob be
forgiven:  and this is all the fruit, that the sin thereof should be
taken away, when he shall have made all the stones of the altar, as
burnt stones broken in pieces, the groves and temples shall not stand.
Of the house of Jacob. . .Viz., of such of them as shall be converted.
27:10. For the strong city shall be desolate, the beautiful city shall
be forsaken, and shall be left as a wilderness:  there the calf shall
feed, and there shall he lie down, and shall consume its branches.
The strong city. . .Jerusalem.
27:11. Its harvest shall be destroyed with drought, women shall come
and teach it:  for it is not a wise people, therefore he that made it,
shall not have mercy on it:  and he that formed it, shall not spare it.
27:12. And it shall come to pass, that in that day the Lord will strike
from the channel of the river even to the torrent of Egypt, and you
shall be gathered together one by one, O ye children of Israel.
27:13. And it shall come to pass, that in that day a noise shall be
made with a great trumpet, and they that were lost, shall come from the
land of the Assyrians, and they that were outcasts in the land of
Egypt, and they shall adore the Lord in the holy mount in Jerusalem.
A great trumpet. . .The preaching of the gospel for the conversion of
Isaias Chapter 28
The punishment of the Israelites, for their pride, intemperance, and
contempt of religion.  Christ the cornerstone.
28:1. Woe to the crown of pride, to the drunkards of Ephraim, and to
the fading flower the glory his joy, who were on the head of the fat
valley, staggering with wine.
Ephraim. . .That is, the kingdom of the ten tribes.--Ibid.  The head of
the fat valley. . .Samaria, situate on a hill, having under it a most
fertile valley.
28:2. Behold the Lord is mighty and strong, as a storm of hail:  a
destroying whirlwind, as the violence of many waters overflowing, and
sent forth upon a spacious land.
28:3. The crown of pride of the drunkards of Ephraim shall be trodden
28:4. And the fading tower the glory of his joy, who is on the head of
the fat valley, shall be as a hasty fruit before the ripeness of
autumn:  which when he that seeth it shall behold, as soon he taketh it
in his hand, he will eat it up.
28:5. In that day the Lord of hosts shall be a crown of glory, and a
garland of joy to the residue of his people:
28:6. And a spirit of judgment to him that sitteth in judgment, and
strength to them that return out of the battle to the gate.
28:7. But these also have been ignorant through wine, and through
drunkenness have erred:  the priest and the prophet have been ignorant
through drunkenness, they are swallowed up with wine, they have gone
astray in drunkenness, they have not known him that seeth, they have
been ignorant of judgment.
These also. . .The kingdom of Juda.
28:8. For all the tables were full of vomit and filth, so that there
was no more place.
28:9. Whom shall he teach knowledge?  and whom shall he make to
understand the hearing?  them that are weaned from the milk, that are
drawn away from the breasts.
28:10. For command, command again; command, command again; expect,
expect again; a little there, a little there.
Command, command again, etc. . .This is said in the person of the Jews,
resisting the repeated commands of God, and still putting him off.
28:11. For with the speech of lips, and with another tongue he will
speak to this people.
28:12. To whom he said:  This is my rest, refresh the weary, and this is
my refreshing:  and they would not hear.
28:13. And the word of the Lord shall be to them:  Command, command
again; command, command again; expect, expect again; a little there, a
little there:  that they may go, and fall backward, and be broken, and
snared, and taken.
28:14. Wherefore hear the word of the Lord, ye scornful men, who rule
over my people that is in Jerusalem.
28:15. For you have said:  We have entered into a league with death, and
we have made a covenant with hell.  When the overflowing scourge shall
pass through, it shall not come upon us:  for we have placed our hope in
lies, and by falsehood we are protected.
28:16. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I will lay a stone in
the foundations of Sion, a tried stone, a corner stone, a precious
stone, founded in the foundation.  He that believeth, let him not
A stone in the foundations. . .Viz., Christ.--Ibid.  Let him not hasten,
etc. . .Let him expect his coming with patience.
28:17. And I will set judgment in weight, and justice in measure:  and
hail shall overturn the hope of falsehood:  and waters shall overflow
its protection.
28:18. And your league with death shall be abolished, and your covenant
with hell shall not stand:  when the overflowing scourge shall pass, you
shall be trodden down by it.
28:19. Whensoever it shall pass through, it shall take you away:
because in the morning early it shall pass through, in the day and in
the night, and vexation alone shall make you understand what you hear.
28:20. For the bed is straitened, so that one must fall out, and a
short covering cannot cover both.
The bed is straitened, etc. . .It is too narrow to hold two:  God will
have the bed of our heart all to himself.
28:21. For the Lord shall stand up as in the mountain of divisions:  he
shall be angry as in the valley which is in Gabaon:  that he may do his
work, his strange work:  that he may perform his work, his work is
strange to him.
As in the mountain, etc. . .As the Lord fought against the Philistines
in Baal Pharasim, 2 Kings 5., and against the Chanaanites, in the
valley of Gabaon, Jos. 10.
28:22. And now do not mock, lest your bonds be tied strait.  For I have
heard of the Lord the God of hosts a consumption and a cutting short
upon all the earth.
28:23. Give ear, and hear my voice, hearken, and hear my speech.
28:24. Shall the ploughman plough all the day to sow, shall he open and
harrow his ground?
28:25. Will he not, when he hath made plain the surface thereof, sow
gith, and scatter cummin, and put wheat in order, and barley, and
millet, and vetches in their bounds?
28:26. For he will instruct him in judgment:  his God will teach him.
28:27. For gith shall not be thrashed with saws, neither shall the cart
wheel turn about upon cummin:  but gith shall be beaten out with a rod,
and cumin with a staff.
28:28. But breadcorn shall be broken small:  but the thrasher shall not
thrash it for ever, neither shall the cart wheel hurt it, nor break it
with its teeth.
28:29. This also is come forth from the Lord God of hosts, to make his
counsel wonderful, and magnify justice.
This also, etc. . .Such also is the proceeding of the Lord with his
land, and the divers seeds he throws therein.
Isaias Chapter 29
God's heavy judgments upon Jerusalem, for their obstinacy:  with a
prophecy of the conversion of the Gentiles.
29:1. Woe to Ariel, to Ariel the city which David took:  year is added
to year.  the solemnities are at an end.
Ariel. . .This word signifies, the lion of God, and here is taken for
the strong city of Jerusalem.
29:2. And I will make a trench about Ariel, and it shall be in sorrow
and mourning, and it shall be to me as Ariel.
29:3. And I will make a circle round about thee, and I will cast up a
rampart against thee, and raise up bulwarks to besiege thee.
29:4. Thou shalt be brought down, thou shall speak out of the earth,
and thy speech shall be heard out of the ground:  and thy voice shall be
from the earth like that of the python, and out of the earth thy speech
shall mutter.
29:5. And the multitude of them that fan thee, shall be like small
dust:  and as ashes passing away, the multitude of them that have
prevailed against thee.
29:6. And it shall be at an instant suddenly.  A visitation shall come
from the Lord of hosts in thunder, and with earthquake, and with a
great noise of whirlwind and tempest; and with the flame of devouring
29:7. And the multitude of all nations that have fought against Ariel,
shall be as the dream of a vision by night, and all that have fought,
and besieged and prevailed against it.
29:8. And as he that is hungry dreameth, and eateth, but when he is
awake, his soul is empty:  and as he that is thirsty dreameth, and
drinketh and after he is awake, is yet faint with thirst, and his soul
is empty:  so shall be the multitude of all the Gentiles, that have
fought against mount Sion.
29:9. Be astonished, and wonder, waver, and stagger:  be drunk, and not
with wine:  stagger, and not with drunkenness.
29:10. For the Lord hath mingled for you the spirit of a deep sleep, he
will shut up your eyes, he will cover your prophets and princes, that
see visions.
29:11. And the vision of all shall be unto you as the words of a book
that is sealed which when they shall deliver to one that is learned,
they shall say:  Read this:  and he shall answer:  I cannot, for it is
29:12. And the book shall be given to one that knoweth no letters, and
it shall be said to him:  Read:  and he shall answer:  I know no letters.
29:13. And the Lord said:  Forasmuch as this people draw near me with
their mouth, and with their lips glorify me, but their heart is far
from me, and they have feared me with the commandment and doctrines of
29:14. Therefore behold I will proceed to cause an admiration in this
people, by a great and wonderful miracle:  for wisdom shall perish from
their wise men, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be
29:15. Woe to you that are deep of heart, to hide your counsel from the
Lord:  and their works are in the dark, and they say:  Who seeth us, and
who knoweth us?
29:16. This thought of yours is perverse:  as if the clay should think
against the potter, and the work should say to the maker thereof:  Thou
madest me not:  or the thing framed should say to him that fashioned it:
Thou understandest not.
29:17. Is it not yet a very little while, and Libanus shall be turned
into charmel, and charmel shall be esteemed as a forest?
Charmel. . .This word signifies a fruitful field.
29:18. And in that day the deaf shall hear the words of the book, and
out of darkness and obscurity the eyes of the blind shall see.
29:19. And the meek shall increase their joy in the Lord, and the poor
men shall rejoice in the Holy One of Israel.
29:20. For he that did prevail hath failed, the scorner is consumed,
and they are all cut off that watched for iniquity:
29:21. That made men sin by word, and supplanted him that reproved them
in the gate, and declined in vain from the just.
29:22. Therefore thus saith the Lord to the house of Jacob, he that
redeemed Abraham:  Jacob shall not now be confounded, neither shall his
countenance now be ashamed:
29:23. But when he shall see his children, the work of my hands in the
midst of him sanctifying my name, and they shall sanctify the Holy One
of Jacob, and shall glorify the God of Israel:
29:24. And they that erred in spirit, shall know understanding, and
they that murmured, shall learn the law.
Isaias Chapter 30
The people are blamed for their confidence in Egypt.  God's mercies
towards his church.  The punishment of sinners.
30:1. Woe to you, apostate children, saith the Lord, that you would
take counsel, and not of me:  and would begin a web, and not by my
spirit, that you might add sin upon sin:
30:2. Who walk to go down into Egypt, and have not asked at my mouth,
hoping for help in the strength of Pharao, and trusting in the shadow
30:3. And the strength of Pharao shall be to your confusion, and the
confidence of the shadow of Egypt to your shame.
30:4. For thy princes were in Tanis, and thy messengers came even to
30:5. They were all confounded at a people that could not profit them:
they were no help, nor to any profit, but to confusion and to reproach.
30:6. The burden of the beasts of the south.  In a land of trouble and
distress, from whence come the lioness, and the lion, the viper and the
flying basilisk, they carry their riches upon the shoulders of beasts,
and their treasures upon the bunches of camels to a people that shall
not be able to profit them.
30:7. For Egypt shall help in vain, and to no purpose:  therefore have I
cried concerning this:  It is pride only, sit still.
30:8. Now therefore go in and write for them upon box, and note it
diligently in a book, and it shall be in the latter days for a
testimony for ever.
30:9. For it is a people that provoketh to wrath, and lying children
that will not hear the law of God.
30:10. Who say to the seers:  See not:  and to them that behold:  Behold
not for us those things that are right:  speak unto us pleasant things,
see errors for us.
30:11. Take away from me the way, turn away the path from me, let the
Holy One of Israel cease from before us.
30:12. Therefore thus saith the Holy One of Israel:  Because you have
rejected this word, and have trusted in oppression and tumult, and have
leaned upon it:
30:13. Therefore shall this iniquity be to you as a breach that
falleth, and is found wanting in a high wall, for the destruction
thereof shall come on a sudden, when it is not looked for.
30:14. And it shall be broken small, as the potter's vessel is broken
all to pieces with mighty breaking, and there shall not a sherd be
found of the pieces thereof, wherein a little fire may be carried from
the hearth, or a little water be drawn out of the pit.
30:15. For thus saith the Lord God the Holy One of Israel:  If you
return and be quiet, you shall be saved:  in silence and in hope shall
your strength be.  And you would not:
30:16. But have said:  No, but we will flee to horses:  therefore shall
you flee.  And we will mount upon swift ones:  therefore shall they be
swifter that shall pursue after you.
30:17. A thousand men shall flee for fear of one:  and for fear of five
shall you flee, till you be left as the mast of ship on the top of a
mountain, and as an ensign upon a hill.
30:18. Therefore the Lord waiteth that he may have mercy on you:  and
therefore shall he be exalted sparing you:  because the Lord is the God
of judgment:  blessed are all they that wait for him.
30:19. For the people of Sion shall dwell in Jerusalem:  weeping thou
shalt not weep, he will surely have pity on thee:  at the voice of thy
cry, as soon as he shall hear, he will answer thee.
30:20. And the Lord will give you spare bread, and short water:  and
will not cause thy teacher to flee away from thee any more, and thy
eyes shall see thy teacher.
30:21. And thy ears shall hear the word of one admonishing thee behind
thy back:  This is the way, walk ye in it:  and go not aside neither to
the right hand, nor to the left.
30:22. And thou shalt defile the plates of thy graven things of silver,
and the garment of thy molten things of gold, and shalt cast them away
as the uncleanness of a menstruous woman.  Thou shalt say to it:  Get
30:23. And rain shall be given to thy seed, wheresoever thou shalt sow
in the land:  and the bread of the corn of the land shall be most
plentiful, and fat.  The lamb in that day shall feed at large in thy
30:24. And thy oxen, and the ass colts that till the ground, shall eat
mingled provender as it was winnowed in the floor.
30:25. And there shall be upon every high mountain, and upon every
elevated hill rivers of running waters in the day of the slaughter of
many, when the tower shall fall.
30:26. And the light of the moon shall be as the light of the sun, and
the light of the sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days:  in
the day when the Lord shall bind up the wound of his people, and shall
heal the stroke of their wound.
30:27. Behold the name of the Lord cometh from afar, his wrath burneth,
and is heavy to bear:  his lips are filled with indignation, and his
tongue as a devouring fire.
30:28. His breath as a torrent overflowing even to the midst of the
neck, to destroy the nations unto nothing, and the bridle of error that
was in the jaws of the people.
30:29. You shall have a song as in the night of the sanctified
solemnity, and joy of heart, as where one goeth with a pipe, to come
into the mountain of the Lord, to the Mighty One of Israel.
30:30. And the Lord shall make the glory of his voice to be heard, and
shall shew the terror of his arm, in the threatening of wrath, and the
flame of devouring fire:  he shall crush to pieces with whirlwind, and
30:31. For at the voice of the Lord the Assyrian shall fear being
struck with the rod.
30:32. And the passage of the rod shall be strongly grounded, which the
Lord shall make to rest upon him with timbrels and harps, and in great
battles he shall overthrow them.
30:33. For Topheth is prepared from yesterday, prepared by the king,
deep, and wide.  The nourishment thereof is fire and much wood:  the
breath of the Lord as a torrent of brimstone kindling it.
Topheth. . .It is the same as Gehenna, and is taken for hell.
Isaias Chapter 31
The folly of trusting to Egypt, and forgetting God.  He will fight for
his people against the Assyrians.
31:1. Woe to them that go down to Egypt for help, trusting in horses,
and putting their confidence in chariots, because they are many:  and in
horsemen, because they are very strong:  and have not trusted in the
Holy One of Israel, and have not sought after the Lord.
31:2. But he that is the wise one hath brought evil, and hath not
removed his words:  and he will rise up against the house of the wicked,
and against the aid of them that work iniquity.
31:3. Egypt is man, and not God:  and their horses, flesh, and not
spirit:  and the Lord shall put down his hand, and the helper shall
fall, and he that is helped shall fall, and they shall all be
confounded together.
31:4. For thus saith the Lord to me:  Like as the lion roareth, and the
lions whelp upon his prey, and when a multitude of shepherds shall come
against him, he will not fear at their voice, nor be afraid of their
multitude:  so shall the Lord of hosts come down to fight upon mount
Sion, and upon the hill thereof.
31:5. As birds flying, so will the Lord of hosts protect Jerusalem,
protecting and delivering, passing over and saving.
31:6. Return as you had deeply revolted, O children of Israel.
31:7. For in that day a man shall cast away his idols of silver, and
his idols of gold, which your hands have made for you to sin.
31:8. And the Assyrian shall fall by the sword not of a man, and the
sword not of a man shall devour him, and he shall flee not at the face
of the sword, and his young men shall be tributaries.
31:9. And his strength shall pass away with dread, and his princes
fleeing shall be afraid:  the Lord hath said it, whose fire is in Sion,
and his furnace in Jerusalem.
Isaias Chapter 32
The blessings of the reign of Christ.  The desolation of the Jews, and
prosperity of the church of Christ.
32:1. Behold a king shall reign in justice, and princes shall rule in
32:2. And a man shall be as when one is hid from the wind, and hideth
himself from a storm, as rivers of waters in drought, and the shadow of
a rock that standeth out in a desert land.
32:3. The eyes of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of them
that hear shall hearken diligently.
32:4. And the heart of fools shall understand knowledge, and the tongue
of stammerers shall speak readily and plain.
32:5. The fool shall no more be called prince:  neither shall the
deceitful be called great:
32:6. For the fool will speak foolish things, and his heart will work
iniquity, to practise hypocrisy, and speak to the Lord deceitfully, and
to make empty the soul of the hungry, and take away drink from the
32:7. The vessels of the deceitful are most wicked:  for he hath framed
devices to destroy the meek, with lying words, when the poor man
speaketh judgment.
32:8. But the prince will devise such things as are worthy of a prince,
and he shall stand above the rulers.
32:9. Rise up, ye rich women, and hear my voice:  ye confident
daughters, give ear to my speech.
32:10. For after days and a year, you that are confident shall be
troubled:  for the vintage is at an end, the gathering shall come no
32:11. Be astonished, ye rich women, be troubled, ye confident ones:
strip you, and be confounded, gird your loins.
32:12. Mourn for your breasts, for the delightful country, for the
fruitful vineyard.
32:13. Upon the land of my people shall thorns and briers come up:  how
much more upon all the houses of joy, of the city that rejoiced?
32:14. For the house is forsaken, the multitude of the city is left,
darkness and obscurity are come upon its dens for ever.  A joy of wild
asses, the pastures of flocks.
32:15. Until the spirit be poured upon us from on high:  and the desert
shall be as a charmel, and charmel shall be counted for a forest.
32:16. An judgment shall dwell in the wilderness, and justice shall sit
32:17. And the work of justice shall be peace, and the service of
justice quietness, and security for ever.
32:18. And my people shall sit in the beauty of peace, and in the
tabernacles of confidence, and in wealthy rest.
32:19. But hail shall be in the descent of the forest, and the city
shall be made very low.
32:20. Blessed are ye that sow upon all waters, sending thither the
foot of the ox and the ass.
Isaias Chapter 33
God's revenge against the enemies of his church.  The happiness of the
heavenly Jerusalem.
33:1. Woe to thee that spoilest, shalt not thou thyself also be
spoiled?  and thou that despisest, shalt not thyself also be despised?
when thou shalt have made an end of spoiling, thou shalt be spoiled:
when being wearied thou shalt cease to despise, thou shalt be despised.
That spoilest, etc. . .This is particularly directed to Sennacherib.
33:2. O Lord, have mercy on us:  for we have waited for thee:  be thou
our arm in the morning, and our salvation in the time of trouble.
33:3. At the voice of the angel the people fled, and at the lifting up
thyself the nations are scattered.
33:4. And your spoils shall be gathered together as the locusts are
gathered, as when the ditches are full of them.
33:5. The Lord is magnified, for he hath dwelt on high:  he hath filled
Sion with judgment and justice.
33:6. And there shall be faith in thy times:  riches of salvation,
wisdom and knowledge:  the fear of the Lord is his treasure.
33:7. Behold they that see shall cry without, the angels of peace shall
weep bitterly.
The angels of peace. . .The messengers or deputies sent to negotiate a
33:8. The ways are made desolate, no one passeth by the road, the
covenant is made void, he hath rejected the cities, he hath not
regarded the men.
33:9. The land hath mourned, and languished:  Libanus is confounded, and
become foul, and Saron is become as a desert:  and Basan and Carmel are
33:10. Now will I rise up, saith the Lord:  now will I be exalted, now
will I lift up myself.
33:11. You shall conceive heat, you shall bring forth stubble:  your
breath as fire shall devour you.
33:12. And the people shall be as ashes after a fire, as a bundle of
thorns they shall be burnt with fire.
33:13. Hear, you that are far off, what I have done, and you that are
near know my strength.
33:14. The sinners in Sion are afraid, trembling hath seized upon the
hypocrites.  Which of you can dwell with devouring fire?  which of you
shall dwell with everlasting burnings?
33:15. He that walketh in justices, and speaketh truth, that casteth
away avarice by oppression, and shaketh his hands from all bribes, that
stoppeth his ears lest he hear blood, and shutteth his eyes that he may
see no evil.
33:16. He shall dwell on high, the fortifications of rocks shall be his
highness:  bread is given him, his waters are sure.
33:17. His eyes shall see the king in his beauty, they shall see the
land far off.
33:18. Thy heart shall meditate fear:  where is the learned?  where is he
that pondered the words of the law?  where is the teacher of little
33:19. The shameless people thou shalt not see, the people of profound
speech:  so that thou canst not understand the eloquence of his tongue,
in whom there is no wisdom.
33:20. Look upon Sion the city of our solemnity:  thy eyes shall see
Jerusalem, a rich habitation, a tabernacle that cannot be removed:
neither shall the nails thereof be taken away for ever, neither shall
any of the cords thereof be broken.
33:21. Because only there our Lord is magnificent:  a place of rivers,
very broad and spacious streams:  no ship with oars shall pass by it,
neither shall the great galley pass through it.
Of rivers. . .He speaks of the rivers of endless joys that flow from the
throne of God to water the heavenly Jerusalem, where no enemy's ship
can come, etc.
33:22. For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is
our king:  he will save us.
33:23. Thy tacklings are loosed, and they shall be of no strength:  thy
mast shall be in such condition, that thou shalt not be able to spread
the flag.  Then shall the spoils of much prey be divided:  the lame shall
take the spoil.
Thy tacklings. . .He speaks of the enemies of the church, under the
allegory of a ship that is disabled.
33:24. Neither shall he that is near, say:  I am feeble.  The people that
dwell therein, shall have their iniquity taken away from them.
Isaias Chapter 34
The general judgment of the wicked.
34:1. Come near, ye Gentiles, and hear, and hearken, ye people:  let the
earth hear, and all that is therein, the world, and every thing that
cometh forth of it.
34:2. For the indignation of the Lord is upon all nations, and his fury
upon all their armies:  he hath killed them, and delivered them to
34:3. Their slain shall be cast forth, and out of their carcasses shall
rise a stink:  the mountains shall be melted with their blood.
34:4. And all the host of the heavens shall pine away, and the heavens
shall be folded together as a book:  and all their host shall fall down
as the leaf falleth from the vine, and from the fig tree.
And all the host of the heavens. . .That is, the sun, moon, and stars.
34:5. For my sword is inebriated in heaven:  behold it shall come down
upon Idumea, and upon the people of my slaughter unto judgment.
Idumea. . .Under the name of Idumea, or Edom a people that were enemies
of the Jews, are here understood the wicked in general, the enemies of
God and his church.
34:6. The sword of the Lord is filled with blood, it is made thick with
the blood of lambs and buck goats, with the blood of rams full of
marrow:  for there is a victim of the Lord in Bosra and a great
slaughter in the land of Edom.
34:7. And the unicorns shall go down with them, and the bulls with the
mighty:  their land shall be soaked with blood, and their ground with
the fat of fat ones.
The unicorns. . .That is, the great and mighty.
34:8. For it is the day of the vengeance of the Lord, the year of
recompenses of the judgment of Sion.
The year of recompenses, etc. . .When the persecutors of Sion, that is,
of the church, shall receive their reward.
34:9. And the streams thereof shall be turned into pitch, and the
ground thereof into brimstone:  and the land thereof shall become
burning pitch.
34:10. Night and day it shall not be quenched, the smoke thereof shall
go up for ever:  from generation to generation it shall lie waste, none
shall pass through it for ever and ever.
34:11. The bittern and ericius shall possess it:  and the ibis and the
raven shall dwell in it:  and a line shall be stretched out upon it, to
bring it to nothing, and a plummet, unto desolation.
34:12. The nobles thereof shall not be there:  they shall call rather
upon the king, and all the princes thereof shall be nothing.
34:13. And thorns and nettles shall grow up in its houses, and the
thistle in the fortresses thereof:  and it shall be the habitation of
dragons, and the pasture of ostriches.
34:14. And demons and monsters shall meet, and the hairy ones shall cry
out one to another, there hath the lamia lain down, and found rest for
34:15. There hath the ericius had its hole, and brought up its young
ones, and hath dug round about, and cherished them in the shadow
thereof:  thither are the kites gathered together one to another.
34:16. Search ye diligently in the book of the Lord, and read:  not one
of them was wanting, one hath not sought for the other:  for that which
proceedeth out of my mouth, he hath commanded, and his spirit it hath
gathered them.
34:17. And he hath cast the lot for them, and his hand hath divided it
to them by line:  they shall possess it for ever, from generation to
generation they shall dwell therein.
Isaias Chapter 35
The joyful flourishing of Christ's kingdom:  in his church shall be a
holy and secure way.
35:1. The land that was desolate and impassable shall be glad, and the
wilderness shall rejoice, and shall flourish like the lily.
35:2. It shall bud forth and blossom, and shall rejoice with joy and
praise:  the glory of Libanus is given to it:  the beauty of Carmel, and
Saron, they shall see the glory of the Lord, and the beauty of our God.
35:3. Strengthen ye the feeble hands, and confirm the weak knees.
35:4. Say to the fainthearted:  Take courage, and fear not:  behold your
God will bring the revenge of recompense:  God himself will come and
will save you.
35:5. Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ears of the
deaf shall be unstopped.
35:6. Then shall the lame man leap as a hart, and the tongue of the
dumb shall be free:  for waters are broken out in the desert, and
streams in the wilderness.
35:7. And that which was dry land, shall become a pool, and the thirsty
land springs of water.  In the dens where dragons dwelt before, shall
rise up the verdure of the reed and the bulrush.
35:8. And a path and a way shall be there, and it shall be called the
holy way:  the unclean shall not pass over it, and this shall be unto
you a straight way, so that fools shall not err therein.
35:9. No lion shall be there, nor shall any mischievous beast go up by
it, nor be found there:  but they shall walk there that shall be
35:10. And the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and shall come into
Sion with praise, and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads:  they
shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and mourning shall flee away.
Isaias Chapter 36
Sennacherib invades Juda:  his blasphemies.
36:1. And it came to pass in the fourteenth year of king Ezechias, that
Sennacherib king of the Assyrians came up against all the fenced cities
of Juda, and took them.
36:2. And the king of the Assyrians sent Rabsaces from Lachis to
Jerusalem, to king Ezechias with a great army, and he stood by the
conduit of the upper pool in the way of the fuller's field.
36:3. And there went out to him Eliacim the son of Helcias, who was
over the house, and Sobna the scribe, and Joahe the son of Asaph the
36:4. And Rabsaces said to them:  Tell Ezechias:  Thus saith the great
king, the king of the Assyrians:  What is this confidence wherein thou
36:5. Or with what counsel or strength dost thou prepare for war?  on
whom dost thou trust, that thou art revolted from me?
36:6. Lo thou trustest upon this broken staff of a reed, upon Egypt:
upon which if a man lean, it will go into his hand, and pierce it:  so
is Pharao king of Egypt to all that trust in him.
36:7. But if thou wilt answer me:  We trust in the Lord our God:  is it
not he whose high places and altars Ezechias hath taken away, and hath
said to Juda and Jerusalem:  You shall worship before this altar?
36:8. And now deliver thyself up to my lord the king of the Assyrians,
and I will give thee two thousand horses, and thou wilt not be able on
thy part to find riders for them.
36:9. And how wilt thou stand against the face of the judge of one
place, of the least of my master's servants?  But if thou trust in
Egypt, in chariots and in horsemen:
36:10. And am I now come up without the Lord against this land to
destroy it?  The Lord said to me:  Go up against this land, and destroy
36:11. And Eliacim, and Sobna, and Joahe said to Rabsaces:  Speak to thy
servants in the Syrian tongue:  for we understand it:  speak not to us in
the Jews' language in the hearing of the people, that are upon the
36:12. And Rabsaces said to them:  Hath my master sent me to thy master
and to thee, to speak all these words; and not rather to the men that
sit on the wall; that they may eat their own dung, and drink their
urine with you?
36:13. Then Rabsaces stood, and cried out with a loud voice in the
Jews' language, and said:  Hear the words of the great king, the king of
the Assyrians.
36:14. Thus saith the king:  Let not Ezechias deceive you, for he shall
not be able to deliver you.
36:15. And let not Ezechias make you trust in the Lord, saying:  The
Lord will surely deliver us, and this city shall not be given into the
hands of the king of the Assyrians.
36:16. Do not hearken to Ezechias:  for thus said the king of the
Assyrians:  Do with me that which is for your advantage, and come out to
me, and eat ye every one of his vine, and every one of his fig tree,
and drink ye every one the water of his cistern,
36:17. Till I come and take you away to a land, like to your own, a
land of corn and of wine, a land of bread and vineyards.
36:18. Neither let Ezechias trouble you, saying:  The Lord will deliver
us.  Have any of the gods of the nations delivered their land out of the
hand of the king of the Assyrians?
36:19. Where is the god of Emath and of Arphad?  where is the god of
Sepharvaim?  have they delivered Samaria out of my hand?
36:20. Who is there among all the gods of these lands, that hath
delivered his country out of my hand, that the Lord may deliver
Jerusalem out of my hand?
36:21. And they held their peace, and answered him not a word.  For the
king had commanded, saying:  Answer him not.
36:22. And Eliacim the son of Helcias, that was over the house, and
Sobna the scribe, and Joahe the son of Asaph the recorder, went in to
Ezechias with their garments rent, and told him the words of Rabsaces.
Isaias Chapter 37
Ezechias, his mourning and prayer.  God's promise of protection.  The
Assyrian army is destroyed.  Sennacherib is slain.
37:1. And it came to pass, when king Ezechias had heard it, that he
rent his garments and covered himself with sackcloth, and went into the
house of the Lord.
37:2. And he sent Eliacim who was over the house, and Sobna the scribe,
and the ancients of the priests covered with sackcloth, to Isaias the
son of Amos the prophet.
37:3. And they said to him:  Thus saith Ezechias:  This day is a day of
tribulation, and of rebuke, and of blasphemy:  for the children are come
to the birth, and there is not strength to bring forth.
37:4. It may be the Lord thy God will hear the words of Rabsaces, whom
the king of the Assyrians his master hath sent to blaspheme the living
God, and to reproach with words which the Lord thy God hath heard:
wherefore lift up by prayer for the remnant that is left.
37:5. And the servants of Ezechias came to Isaias.
37:6. And Isaias said to them:  Thus shall you say to your master:  Thus
saith the Lord:  Be not afraid of the words that thou hast heard, with
which the servants of the king of the Assyrians have blasphemed me.
37:7. Behold, I will send a spirit upon him, and he shall hear a
message, and shall return to his own country, and I will cause him to
fall by the sword in his own country.
37:8. And Rabsaces returned, and found the king of the Assyrians
besieging Lobna.  For he had heard that he was departed from Lachis.
37:9. And he heard say about Tharaca the king of Ethiopia:  He is come
forth to fight against thee.  And when he heard it, he sent messengers
to Ezechias, saying:
37:10. Thus shall you speak to Ezechias the king of Juda, saying:  Let
not thy God deceive thee, in whom thou trustest, saying:  Jerusalem
shall not be given into the hands of the king of the Assyrians.
37:11. Behold thou hast heard all that the kings of the Assyrians have
done to all countries which they have destroyed, and canst thou be
37:12. Have the gods of the nations delivered them whom my fathers have
destroyed, Gozam, and Haram, and Reseph, and the children of Eden, that
were in Thalassar?
37:13. Where is the king of Emath, and the king of Arphad, and the king
of the city of Sepharvaim, of Ana, and of Ava?
37:14. And Ezechias took the letter from the hand of the messengers,
and read it, and went up to the house of the Lord, and Ezechias spread
it before the Lord.
37:15. And Ezechias prayed to the Lord, saying:
37:16. Lord of hosts, God of Israel who sitteth upon the cherubims,
thou alone art the God of all the kingdoms of the earth, thou hast made
heaven and earth.
37:17. Incline, O Lord, thy ear, and hear:  open, O Lord, thy eyes, and
see, and hear all the words of Sennacherib, which he hath sent to
blaspheme the living God.
37:18. For of a truth, O Lord, the kings of the Assyrians have laid
waste lands, and their countries.
37:19. And they have cast their gods into the fire, for they were not
gods, but the works of men's hands, of wood and stone:  and they broke
them in pieces.
37:20. And now, O Lord our God, save us out of his hand:  and let all
the kingdoms of the earth know, that thou only art the Lord.
37:21. And Isaias the son of Amos sent to Ezechias, saying:  Thus saith
the Lord the God of Israel:  For the prayer thou hast made to me
concerning Sennacherib the king of the Assyrians:
37:22. This is the word which the Lord hath spoken of him:  The virgin
the daughter of Sion hath despised thee, and laughed thee to scorn:  the
daughter of Jerusalem hath wagged the head after thee.
37:23. Whom hast thou reproached, and whom hast thou blasphemed, and
against whom hast thou exalted thy voice, and lifted up thy eyes on
high?  Against the Holy One of Israel.
37:24. By the hand of thy servants thou hast reproached the Lord:  and
hast said:  With the multitude of my chariots I have gone up to the
height of the mountains, to the top of Libanus:  and I will cut down its
tall cedars, and its choice fir trees, and will enter to the top of its
height, to the forest of its Carmel.
Carmel. . .See these figurative expressions explained in the annotations
on the nineteenth chapter of the fourth book of Kings.
37:25. I have digged, and drunk water, and have dried up with the sole
of my foot, all the rivers shut up in banks.
37:26. Hast thou not heard what I have done to him of old?  from the
days of old I have formed it:  and now I have brought it to effect:  and
it hath come to pass that hills fighting together, and fenced cities
should be destroyed.
37:27. The inhabitants of them were weak of hand, they trembled, and
were confounded:  they became like the grass of the field, and the herb
of the pasture, and like the grass of the housetops, which withered
before it was ripe.
37:28. I know thy dwelling, and thy going out, and thy coming in, and
thy rage against me.
37:29. When thou wast mad against me, thy pride came up to my ears:
therefore I will put a ring in thy nose, and a bit between thy lips,
and I will turn thee back by the way by which thou camest.
37:30. But to thee this shall be a sign:  Eat this year the things that
spring of themselves, and in the second year eat fruits:  but in the
third year sow and reap, and plant vineyards, and eat the fruit of
37:31. And that which shall be saved of the house of Juda, and which is
left, shall take root downward, and shall bear fruit upward:
37:32. For out of Jerusalem shall go forth a remnant, and salvation
from mount Sion:  the zeal of the Lord of hosts shall do this.
37:33. Wherefore thus saith the Lord concerning the king of the
Assyrians:  He shall not come into this city, nor shoot an arrow into
it, nor come before it with shield, nor cast a trench about it.
37:34. By the way that he came, he shall return, and into this city he
shall not come, saith the Lord.
37:35. And I will protect this city, and will save it for my own sake,
and for the sake of David my servant.
37:36. And the angel of the Lord went out and slew in the camp of the
Assyrians a hundred and eighty-five thousand.  And they arose in the
morning, and behold they were all dead corpses.
37:37. And Sennacherib the king of the Assyrians went out and departed,
and returned, and dwelt in Ninive.
37:38. And it came to pass, as he was worshipping in the temple of
Nesroch his god, that Adramelech and Sarasar his sons slew him with the
sword:  and they fled into the land of Ararat, and Asarhaddon his son
reigned in his stead.
Isaias Chapter 38
Ezechias being advertised that he shall die, obtains by prayer a
prolongation of his life:  in confirmation of which the sun goes back.
The canticle of Ezechias.
38:1. In those days Ezechias was sick even to death, and Isaias the son
of Amos the prophet cane unto him, and said to him:  Thus saith the
Lord:  Take order with thy house, for thou shalt die, and not live.
38:2. And Ezechias turned his face toward the wall, and prayed to the
38:3. And said:  I beseech thee, O Lord, remember how I have walked
before thee in truth, and with a perfect heart, and have done that
which is good in thy sight.  And Ezechias wept with great weeping.
38:4. And the word of the Lord came to Isaias, saying:
38:5. Go and say to Ezechias:  Thus saith the Lord the God of David thy
father:  I have heard thy prayer, and I have seen thy tears:  behold I
will add to thy days fifteen years:
38:6. And I will deliver thee and this city out of the hand of the king
of the Assyrians, and I will protect it.
38:7. And this shall be a sign to thee from the Lord, that the Lord
will do this word which he hath spoken:
38:8. Behold I will bring again the shadow of the lines, by which it is
now gone down in the sun dial of Achaz with the sun, ten lines
backward.  And the sun returned ten lines by the degrees by which it was
38:9. The writing of Ezechias king of Juda, when he had been sick, and
was recovered of his sickness.
38:10. I said:  In the midst of my days I shall go to the gates of hell:
I sought for the residue of my years.
Hell. . .Sheol, or Hades, the region of the dead.
38:11. I said:  I shall not see the Lord God in the land of the living.
I shall behold man no more, nor the inhabitant of rest.
38:12. My generation is at an end, and it is rolled away from me, as a
shepherd's tent.  My life is cut off, as by a weaver:  whilst I was yet
but beginning, he cut me off:  from morning even to night thou wilt make
an end of me.
38:13. I hoped till morning, as a lion so hath he broken all my bones:
from morning even to night thou wilt make an end of me.
38:14. I will cry like a young swallow, I will meditate like a dove:  my
eyes are weakened looking upward:  Lord, I suffer violence, answer thou
38:15. What shall I say, or what shall he answer for me, whereas he
himself hath done it?  I will recount to thee all my years in the
bitterness of my soul.
38:16. O Lord, if man's life be such, and the life of my spirit be in
such things as these, thou shalt correct me, and make me to live.
38:17. Behold in peace is my bitterness most bitter:  but thou hast
delivered my soul that it should not perish, thou hast cast all my sins
behind thy back.
38:18. For hell shall not confess to thee, neither shall death praise
thee:  nor shall they that go down into the pit, look for thy truth.
38:19. The living, the living, he shall give praise to thee, as I do
this day:  the father shall make the truth known to the children.
38:20. O Lord, save me, and we will sing our psalms all the days of our
life in the house of the Lord.
38:21. Now Isaias had ordered that they should take a lump of figs, and
lay it as a plaster upon the wound, and that he should be healed.
38:22. And Ezechias had said:  What shall be the sign that I shall go up
to the house of the Lord?
Isaias Chapter 39
Ezechias shews all his treasures to the ambassadors of Babylon:  upon
which Isaias foretells the Babylonish captivity.
39:1. At that time Merodach Baladan, the son of Baladan king of
Babylon, sent letters and presents to Ezechias:  for he had heard that
he had been sick and was recovered.
39:2. And Ezechias rejoiced at their coming, and he shewed them the
storehouses of his aromatical spices, and of the silver, and of the
gold, and of the sweet odours, and of the precious ointment, and all
the storehouses of his furniture, and all things that were found in his
treasures.  There was nothing in his house, nor in all his dominion that
Ezechias shewed them not.
39:3. Then Isaias the prophet came to king Ezechias, and said to him:
What said these men, and from whence came they to thee?  And Ezechias
said:  From a far country they came to me, from Babylon.
39:4. And he said:  What saw they in thy house?  And Ezechias said:  All
things that are in my house have they seen, there was not any thing
which I have not shewn them in my treasures.
39:5. And Isaias said to Ezechias:  Hear the word of the Lord of hosts.
39:6. Behold the days shall come that all that is in thy house, and
that thy fathers have laid up in store until this day, shall be carried
away into Babylon:  there shall not any thing be left, saith the Lord.
39:7. And of thy children, that shall issue from thee, whom thou shalt
beget, they shall take away, and they shall be eunuchs in the palace of
the king of Babylon.
39:8. And Ezechias said to Isaias:  The word of the Lord, which he hath
spoken, is good.  And he said:  Only let peace and truth be in my days.
Isaias Chapter 40
The prophet comforts the people with the promise of the coming of
Christ to forgive their sins.  God's almighty power and majesty.
40:1. Be comforted, be comforted, my people, saith your God.
40:2. Speak ye to the heart of Jerusalem, and call to her:  for her evil
is come to an end, her iniquity is forgiven:  she hath received of the
hand of the Lord double for all her sins.
40:3. The voice of one crying in the desert:  Prepare ye the way of the
Lord, make straight in the wilderness the paths of our God.
40:4. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall
be made low, and the crooked shall become straight, and the rough ways
40:5. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh
together shall see, that the mouth of the Lord hath spoken.
40:6. The voice of one, saying:  Cry.  And I said:  What shall I cry?
All flesh is grass, and all the glory thereof as the flower of the field.
40:7. The grass is withered, and the flower is fallen, because the
spirit of the Lord hath blown upon it.  Indeed the people is grass:
40:8. The grass is withered, and the flower is fallen:  but the word of
our Lord endureth for ever.
40:9. Get thee up upon a high mountain, thou that bringest good tidings
to Sion:  lift up thy voice with strength, thou that bringest good
tidings to Jerusalem:  lift it up, fear not.  Say to the cities of Juda:
Behold your God:
40:10. Behold the Lord God shall come with strength, and his arm shall
rule:  Behold his reward is with him and his work is before him.
40:11. He shall feed his flock like a shepherd:  he shall gather
together the lambs with his arm, and shall take them up in his bosom,
and he himself shall carry them that are with young.
40:12. Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and
weighed the heavens with his palm?  who hath poised with three fingers
the bulk of the earth, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the
hills in a balance?
40:13. Who hath forwarded the spirit of the Lord?  or who hath been his
counsellor, and hath taught him?
40:14. With whom hath he consulted, and who hath instructed him, and
taught him the path of justice, and taught him knowledge, and shewed
him the way of understanding?
40:15. Behold the Gentiles are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted
as the smallest grain of a balance:  behold the islands are as a little
40:16. And Libanus shall not be enough to burn, nor the beasts thereof
sufficient for a burnt offering.
40:17. All nations are before him as if they had no being at all, and
are counted to him as nothing, and vanity.
40:18. To whom then have you likened God?  or what image will you make
40:19. Hath the workman cast a graven statue?  or hath the goldsmith
formed it with gold, or the silversmith with plates of silver?
40:20. He hath chosen strong wood, and that will not rot:  the skilful
workman seeketh how he may set up an idol that may not be moved.
40:21. Do you not know?  hath it not been heard?  hath it not been told
you from the beginning?  have you not understood the foundations of the
40:22. It is he that sitteth upon the globe of the earth, and the
inhabitants thereof are as locusts:  he that stretcheth out the heavens
as nothing, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in.
40:23. He that bringeth the searchers of secrets to nothing, that hath
made the judges of the earth as vanity.
40:24. And surely their stock was neither planted, nor sown, nor rooted
in the earth:  suddenly he hath blown upon them, and they are withered,
and a whirlwind shall take them away as stubble.
40:25. And to whom have ye likened me, or made me equal, saith the Holy
40:26. Lift up your eyes on high, and see who hath created these
things:  who bringeth out their host by number, and calleth them all by
their names:  by the greatness of his might, and strength, and power,
not one of them was missing.
40:27. Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel:  My way is hid
from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from my God?
40:28. Knowest thou not, or hast thou not heard?  the Lord is the
everlasting God, who hath created the ends of the earth:  he shall not
faint, nor labour, neither is there any searching out of his wisdom.
40:29. It is he that giveth strength to the weary, and increaseth force
and might to them that are not.
40:30. You shall faint, and labour, and young men shall fall by
40:31. But they that hope in the Lord shall renew their strength, they
shall take wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall
walk and not faint.
Isaias Chapter 41
The reign of the just one:  the vanity of idols.
41:1. Let the islands keep silence before me, and the nations take new
strength:  let them come near, and then speak, let us come near to
judgment together.
41:2. Who hath raised up the just one from the east, hath called him to
follow him?  he shall give the nations in his sight, and he shall rule
over kings:  he shall give them as the dust to his sword, as stubble
driven by the wind, to his bow.
41:3. He shall pursue them, he shall pass in peace, no path shall
appear after his feet.
41:4. Who hath wrought and done these things, calling the generations
from the beginning?  I the Lord, I am the first and the last.
41:5. The islands saw it, and feared, the ends of the earth were
astonished, they drew near, and came.
41:6. Every one shall help his neighbour, and shall say to his brother:
Be of good courage.
41:7. The coppersmith striking with the hammer encouraged him that
forged at that time, saying:  It is ready for soldering:  and he
strengthened it with nails, that it should not be moved.
41:8. But thou Israel, art my servant, Jacob whom I have chosen, the
seed of Abraham my friend:
41:9. In whom I have taken thee from the ends of the earth, and from
the remote parts thereof have called thee, and said to thee:  Thou art
my servant, I have chosen thee, and have not cast thee away.
41:10. Fear not, for I am with thee:  turn not aside, for I am thy God:
I have strengthened thee, and have helped thee, and the right hand of
my just one hath upheld thee.
41:11. Behold all that fight against thee shall be confounded and
ashamed, they shall be as nothing, and the men shall perish that strive
against thee.
41:12. Thou shalt seek them, and shalt not find the men that resist
thee:  they shall be as nothing:  and as a thing consumed the men that
war against thee.
41:13. For I am the Lord thy God, who take thee by the hand, and say to
thee:  Fear not, I have helped thee.
41:14. Fear not, thou worm of Jacob, you that are dead of Israel:  I
have helped thee, saith the Lord:  and thy Redeemer the Holy One of
41:15. I have made thee as a new thrashing wain, with teeth like a saw:
thou shalt thrash the mountains, and break them in pieces:  and shalt
make the hills as chaff.
41:16. Thou shalt fan them, and the wind shall carry them away, and the
whirlwind shall scatter them:  and thou shalt rejoice in the Lord, in
the Holy One of Israel thou shalt be joyful.
41:17. The needy and the poor seek for waters, and there are none:
their tongue hath been dry with thirst.  I the Lord will hear them, I
the God of Israel will not forsake them.
41:18. I will open rivers in the high hills, and fountains in the midst
of the plains:  I will turn the desert into pools of waters, and the
impassable land into streams of waters.
41:19. I will plant in the wilderness the cedar, and the thorn, and the
myrtle, and the olive tree:  I will set in the desert the fir tree, the
elm, and the box tree together:
The thorn. . .In Hebrew, the shitta, or setim, a tree resembling the
white thorn.
41:20. That they may see and know, and consider, and understand
together that the hand of the Lord hath done this, and the Holy One of
Israel hath created it.
41:21. Bring your cause near, saith the Lord:  bring hither, if you have
any thing to allege, saith the King of Jacob.
41:22. Let them come, and tell us all things that are to come:  tell us
the former things what they were:  and we will set our heart upon them
and shall know the latter end of them, and tell us the things that are
41:23. Shew the things that are to come hereafter, and we shall know
that ye are gods.  Do ye also good or evil, if you can:  and let us
speak, and see together.
41:24. Behold, you are of nothing, and your work of that which hath no
being:  he that hath chosen you is an abomination.
41:25. I have raised up one from the north, and he shall come from the
rising of the sun:  he shall call upon my name, and he shall make
princes to be as dirt, and as the potter treading clay.
41:26. Who hath declared from the beginning, that we may know:  and from
time of old, that we may say:  Thou art just.  There is none that
sheweth, nor that foretelleth, nor that heareth your words.
41:27. The first shall say to Sion:  Behold they are here, and to
Jerusalem I will give an evangelist.
41:28. And I saw, and there was no one even among them to consult, or
who, when I asked, could answer a word.
41:29. Behold they are all in the wrong, and their works are vain:
their idols are wind and vanity.
Isaias Chapter 42
The office of Christ.  The preaching of the gospel to the Gentiles.  The
blindness and reprobation of the Jews.
42:1. Behold my servant, I will uphold him:  my elect, my soul
delighteth in him:  I have given my spirit upon him, he shall bring
forth judgment to the Gentiles.
My servant. . .Christ, who according to his humanity, is the servant of
42:2. He shall not cry, nor have respect to person, neither shall his
voice be heard abroad.
42:3. The bruised reed he shall not break, and smoking flax he shall
not quench, he shall bring forth judgment unto truth.
42:4. He shall not be sad, nor troublesome, till he set judgment in the
earth, and the islands shall wait for his law.
42:5. Thus saith the Lord God that created the heavens, and stretched
them out:  that established the earth, and the things that spring out of
it:  that giveth breath to the people upon it, and spirit to them that
tread thereon.
42:6. I the Lord have called thee in justice, and taken thee by the
hand, and preserved thee.  And I have given thee for a covenant of the
people, for a light of the Gentiles:
42:7. That thou mightest open the eyes of the blind, and bring forth
the prisoner out of prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the
prison house.
42:8. I the Lord, this is my name:  I will not give my glory to another,
nor my praise to graven things.
42:9. The things that were first, behold they are come:  and new things
do I declare:  before they spring forth, I will make you hear them.
42:10. Sing ye to the Lord a new song, his praise is from the ends of
the earth:  you that go down to the sea, and all that are therein:  ye
islands, and ye inhabitants of them.
42:11. Let the desert and the cities thereof be exalted:  Cedar shall
dwell in houses:  ye inhabitants of Petra, give praise, they shall cry
from the top of the mountains.
Petra. . .A city that gives name to Arabia Petraea.
42:12. They shall give glory to the Lord, and shall declare his praise
in the islands.
42:13. The Lord shall go forth as a mighty man, as a man of war shall
he stir up zeal:  he shall shout and cry:  he shall prevail against his
42:14. I have always held my peace, I have kept silence, I have been
patient, I will speak now as a woman in labour:  I will destroy, and
swallow up at once.
42:15. I will lay waste the mountains and hills, and will make all
their grass to wither:  and I will turn rivers into islands, and will
dry up the standing pools.
42:16. And I will lead the blind into the way which they know not:  and
in the paths which they were ignorant of I will make them walk:  I will
make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight:  these
things have I done to them, and have not forsaken them.
42:17. They are turned back:  let them be greatly confounded, that trust
in a graven thing, that say to a molten thing:  You are our god.
42:18. Hear, ye deaf, and, ye blind, behold that you may see.
42:19. Who is blind, but my servant?  or deaf, but he to whom I have
sent my messengers?  Who is blind, but he that is sold?  or who is blind,
but the servant of the Lord?
42:20. Thou that seest many things, wilt thou not observe them?  thou
that hast ears open, wilt thou not hear?
42:21. And the Lord was willing to sanctify him, and to magnify the
law, and exalt it.
42:22. But this is a people that is robbed and wasted:  they are all the
snare of young men, and they are hid in the houses of prisons:  they are
made a prey, and there is none to deliver them:  a spoil, and there is
none that saith:  Restore.
42:23. Who is there among you that will give ear to this, that will
attend and hearken for times to come?
42:24. Who hath given Jacob for a spoil, and Israel to robbers?  hath
not the Lord himself, against whom we have sinned?  And they would not
walk in his ways, and they have not hearkened to his law.
42:25. And he hath poured out upon him the indignation of his fury, and
a strong battle, and hath burnt him round about, and he knew not:  and
set him on fire, and he understood not.
Isaias Chapter 43
God comforts his church, promising to protect her for ever:  he
expostulates with the Jews for their ingratitude.
43:1. And now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and
formed thee, O Israel:  Fear not, for I have redeemed thee, and called
thee by thy name:  thou art mine.
43:2. When thou shalt pass through the waters, I will be with thee, and
the rivers shall not cover thee:  when thou shalt walk in the fire, thou
shalt not be burnt, and the flames shall not burn in thee:
43:3. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour:  I
have given Egypt for thy atonement, Ethiopia and Saba for thee.
43:4. Since thou becamest honourable in my eyes, thou art glorious:  I
have loved thee, and I will give men for thee, and people for thy life.
43:5. Fear not, for I am with thee:  I will bring thy seed from the
east, and gather thee from the west.
43:6. I will say to the north:  Give up:  and to the south:  Keep not
back:  bring my sons from afar, and my daughters from the ends of the
43:7. And every one that calleth upon my name, I have created him for
my glory.  I have formed him, and made him.
43:8. Bring forth the people that are blind, and have eyes:  that are
deaf, and have ears.
43:9. All the nations are assembled together, and the tribes are
gathered:  who among you can declare this, and shall make us hear the
former things?  let them bring forth their witnesses, let them be
justified, and hear, and say:  It is truth.
43:10. You are my witnesses, saith the Lord, and my servant whom I have
chosen:  that you may know, and believe me, and understand that I myself
am.  Before me there was no God formed, and after me there shall be
43:11. I am, I am the Lord:  and there is no saviour besides me.
43:12. I have declared, and have saved.  I have made it heard, and there
was no strange one among you.  You are my witnesses, saith the Lord, and
43:13. And from the beginning I am the same, and there is none that can
deliver out of my hind:  I will work, and who shall turn it away?
43:14. Thus saith the Lord your redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:  For
your sake I sent to Babylon, and have brought down all their bars, and
the Chaldeans glorying in their ships.
43:15. I am the Lord your Holy One, the Creator of Israel, your King.
43:16. Thus saith the Lord, who made a way in the sea, and a path in
the mighty waters.
43:17. Who brought forth the chariot and the horse, the army and the
strong:  they lay down to sleep together, and they shall not rise again:
they are broken as flax, and are extinct.
43:18. Remember not former things, and look not on things of old.
43:19. Behold I do new things, and now they shall spring forth, verily
you shall know them:  I will make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in
43:20. The beast of the field shall glorify me, the dragons and the
ostriches:  because I have given waters in the wilderness, rivers in the
desert, to give drink to my people, to my chosen.
43:21. This people have I formed for myself, they shall shew forth my
43:22. But thou hast not called upon me, O Jacob, neither hast thou
laboured about me, O Israel.
43:23. Thou hast not offered me the ram of thy holocaust, nor hast thou
glorified me with thy victims:  I have not caused thee to serve with
oblations, nor wearied thee with incense.
43:24. Thou hast bought me no sweet cane with money, neither hast thou
filled me with the fat of thy victims.  But thou hast made me to serve
with thy sins, thou hast wearied me with thy iniquities.
43:25. I am, I am he that blot out thy iniquities for my own sake, and
I will not remember thy sins.
43:26. Put me in remembrance, and let us plead together:  tell if thou
hast any thing to justify thyself.
43:27. Thy first father sinned, and thy teachers have transgressed
43:28. And I have profaned the holy princes, I have given Jacob to
slaughter, and Israel to reproach.
Isaias Chapter 44
God's favour to his church.  The folly of idolatry.  The people shall be
delivered from captivity.
44:1. And now hear, O Jacob, my servant, and Israel whom I have chosen.
44:2. Thus saith the Lord that made and formed thee, thy helper from
the womb:  Fear not, O my servant Jacob, and thou most righteous whom I
have chosen.
44:3. For I will pour out waters upon the thirsty ground, and streams
upon the dry land:  I will pour out my spirit upon thy seed, and my
blessing upon thy stock.
44:4. And they shall spring up among the herbs, as willows beside the
running waters.
44:5. One shall say:  I am the Lord's, and another shall call himself by
the name of Jacob, and another shall subscribe with his hand, To the
Lord, and surname himself by the name of Israel.
44:6. Thus saith the Lord the king of Israel, and his redeemer the Lord
of hosts:  I am the first, and I am the last, and besides me there is no
44:7. Who is like to me?  let him call and declare:  and let him set
before me the order, since I appointed the ancient people:  and the
things to come, and that shall be hereafter, let them shew unto them.
44:8. Fear ye not, neither be ye troubled from that time I have made
thee to hear, and have declared:  you are my witnesses.  Is there a God
besides me, a maker, whom I have not known?
44:9. The makers of idols are all of them nothing, and their best
beloved things shall not profit them.  They are their witnesses, that
they do not see, nor understand, that they may be ashamed.
44:10. Who hath formed a god, and made a graven thing that is
profitable for nothing?
44:11. Behold, all the partakers thereof shall be confounded:  for the
makers are men:  they shall all assemble together, they shall stand and
fear, and shall be confounded together.
44:12. The smith hath wrought with his file, with coals, and with
hammers he hath formed it, and hath wrought with the strength of his
arm:  he shall hunger and faint, he shall drink no water, and shall be
44:13. The carpenter hath stretched out his rule, he hath formed it
with a plane:  he hath made it with corners, and hath fashioned it round
with the compass:  and he hath made the image of a man as it were a
beautiful man dwelling in a house.
44:14. He hath cut down cedars, taken the holm, and the oak that stood
among the trees of the forest:  he hath planted the pine tree, which the
rain hath nourished.
44:15. And it hath served men for fuel:  he took thereof, and warmed
himself:  and he kindled it, and baked bread:  but of the rest he made a
god, and adored it:  he made a graven thing, and bowed down before it.
44:16. Part of it he burnt with fire, and with part of it he dressed
his meat:  he boiled pottage, and was filled, and was warmed, and said:
Aha, I am warm, I have seen the fire.
44:17. But the residue thereof he made a god, and a graven thing for
himself:  he boweth down before it, and adoreth it, and prayeth unto it,
saying:  Deliver me, for thou art my God.
44:18. They have not known, nor understood:  for their eyes are covered
that they may not see, and that they may not understand with their
44:19. They do not consider in their mind, nor know, nor have the
thought to say:  I have burnt part of it in the fire, and I have baked
bread upon the coals thereof:  I have broiled flesh and have eaten, and
of the residue thereof shall I make an idol?  shall I fall down before
the stock of a tree?
44:20. Part thereof is ashes:  his foolish heart adoreth it, and he will
not save his soul, nor say:  Perhaps there is a lie in my right hand.
44:21. Remember these things, O Jacob, and Israel, for thou art my
servant.  I have formed thee, thou art my servant, O Israel, forget me
44:22. I have blotted out thy iniquities as a cloud, and thy sins as a
mist:  return to me, for I have redeemed thee.
44:23. Give praise, O ye heavens, for the Lord hath shewn mercy:  shout
with joy, ye ends of the earth:  ye mountains, resound with praise,
thou, O forest, and every tree therein:  for the Lord hath redeemed
Jacob, and Israel shall be glorified.
44:24. Thus saith the Lord thy redeemer, and thy maker, from the womb:
I am the Lord, that make all things, that alone stretch out the
heavens, that established the earth, and there is none with me.
44:25. That make void the tokens of diviners, and make the soothsayers
mad.  That turn the wise backward, and that make their knowledge
44:26. That raise up the word of my servant and perform the counsel of
my messengers, who say to Jerusalem:  Thou shalt be inhabited:  and to
the cities of Juda:  You shall be built, and I will raise up the wastes
44:27. Who say to the deep:  Be thou desolate, and I will dry up thy
44:28. Who say to Cyrus:  Thou art my shepherd, and thou shalt perform
all my pleasure.  Who say to Jerusalem:  Thou shalt be built:  and to the
temple:  Thy foundations shall be laid.
Isaias Chapter 45
A prophecy of Cyrus, as a figure of Christ, the great deliverer of
God's people.
45:1. Thus saith the Lord to my anointed Cyrus, whose right hand I have
taken hold of, to subdue nations before his face, and to turn the backs
of kings, and to open the doors before him, and the gates shall not be
45:2. I will go before thee, and will humble the great ones of the
earth:  I will break in pieces the gates of brass, and will burst the
bars of iron.
45:3. And I will give thee hidden treasures, and the concealed riches
of secret places:  that thou mayest know that I am the Lord who call
thee by thy name, the God of Israel.
45:4. For the sake of my servant Jacob, and Israel my elect, I have
even called thee by thy name:  I have made a likeness of thee, and thou
hast not known me.
45:5. I am the Lord, and there is none else:  there is no God besides
me:  I girded thee, and thou hast not known me:
45:6. That they may know who are from the rising of the sun, and they
who are from the west, that there is none besides me.  I am the Lord,
and there is none else:
45:7. I form the light, and create darkness, I make peace, and create
evil:  I the Lord that do all these things.
Create evil, etc. . .The evils of afflictions and punishments, but not
the evil of sin.
45:8. Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain
the just:  let the earth be opened, and bud forth a saviour:  and let
justice spring up together:  I the Lord have created him.
45:9. Woe to him that gainsayeth his maker, a sherd of the earthen
pots:  shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it:  What art thou
making, and thy work is without hands?
45:10. Woe to him that saith to his father:  Why begettest thou?  and to
the woman:  Why dost thou bring forth?
45:11. Thus saith the Lord the Holy One of Israel, his maker:  Ask me of
things to come, concerning my children, and concerning the work of my
hands give ye charge to me.
45:12. I made the earth:  and I created man upon it:  my hand stretched
forth the heavens, and I have commanded all their host.
45:13. I have raised him up to justice, and I will direct all his ways:
he shall build my city, and let go my captives, not for ransom, nor for
presents, saith the Lord the God of hosts.
45:14. Thus saith the Lord:  The labour of Egypt, and the merchandise of
Ethiopia, and of Sabaim, men of stature shall come over to thee, and
shall be thine:  they shall walk after thee, they shall go bound with
manacles:  and they shall worship thee, and shall make supplication to
thee:  only in thee is God, and there is no God besides thee.
45:15. Verily thou art a hidden God, the God of Israel the saviour.
45:16. They are all confounded and ashamed:  the forgers of errors are
gone together into confusion.
45:17. Israel is saved in the Lord with an eternal salvation:  you shall
not be confounded, and you shall not be ashamed for ever and ever.
45:18. For thus saith the Lord that created the heavens, God himself
that formed the earth, and made it, the very maker thereof:  he did not
create it in vain:  he formed it to be inhabited.  I am the Lord, and
there is no other.
45:19. I have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth:  I
have not said to the seed of Jacob:  Seek me in vain.  I am the Lord that
speak justice, that declare right things.
45:20. Assemble yourselves, and come, and draw near together, ye that
are saved of the Gentiles:  they have no knowledge that set up the wood
of their graven work, and pray to a god that cannot save.
45:21. Tell ye, and come, and consult together:  who hath declared this
from the beginning, who hath foretold this from that time?  Have not I
the Lord, and there is no God else besides me?  A just God and a
saviour, there is none besides me.
45:22. Be converted to me, and you shall be saved, all ye ends of the
earth:  for I am God, and there is no other.
45:23. I have sworn by myself, the word of justice shall go out of my
mouth, and shall not return:
45:24. For every knee shall be bowed to me, and every tongue shall
45:25. Therefore shall he say:  In the Lord are my justices and empire:
they shall come to him, and all that resist him shall be confounded.
45:26. In the Lord shall all the seed of Israel be justified and
Isaias Chapter 46
The idols of Babylon shall be destroyed.  Salvation is promised through
46:1. Bel is broken, Nebo is destroyed:  their idols are put upon beasts
and cattle, your burdens of heavy weight even unto weariness.
46:2. They are consumed, and are broken together:  they could not save
him that carried them, and they themselves shall go into captivity.
46:3. Hearken unto me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house
of Israel who are carried by my bowels, are borne up by my womb.
46:4. Even to your old age I am the same, and to your grey hairs I will
carry you:  I have made you, and I will bear:  I will carry and will
46:5. To whom have you likened me, and made me equal, and compared me,
and made me like?
46:6. You that contribute gold out of the bag, and weigh out silver in
the scales:  and hire a goldsmith to make a god:  and they fall down and
46:7. They bear him on their shoulders and carry him, and set him in
his place, and he shall stand, and shall not stir out of his place.
Yea, when they shall cry also unto him, he shall not hear:  he shall not
save them from tribulation.
46:8. Remember this, and be ashamed:  return, ye transgressors, to the
46:9. Remember the former age, for I am God, and there is no God
beside, neither is there the like to me:
46:10. Who shew from the beginning the things that shall be at last,
and from ancient times the things that as yet are not done, saying:  My
counsel shall stand, and all my will shall be done:
46:11. Who call a bird from the east, and from a far country the man of
my own will, and I have spoken, and will bring it to pass:  I have
created, and I will do it.  Hear me, O ye hardhearted, who are far from
46:12. I have brought my justice near, it shall not be afar off:  and my
salvation shall not tarry.  I will give salvation in Sion, and my glory
Isaias Chapter 47
God's judgment upon Babylon.
47:1. Come down, sit in the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon, sit on
the ground:  there is no throne for the daughter of the Chaldeans, for
thou shalt no more be called delicate and tender.
47:2. Take a millstone and grind meal:  uncover thy shame, strip thy
shoulder, make bare thy legs, pass over the rivers.
47:3. Thy nakedness shall be discovered, and thy shame shall be seen:  I
will take vengeance, and no man shall resist me.
47:4. Our redeemer, the Lord of hosts is his name, the Holy One of
47:5. Sit thou silent, and get thee into darkness, O daughter of the
Chaldeans:  for thou shalt no more be called the lady of kingdoms.
47:6. I was angry with my people, I have polluted my inheritance, and
have given them into thy hand:  thou hast shewn no mercy to them:  upon
the ancient thou hast laid thy yoke exceeding heavy.
47:7. And thou hast said:  I shall be a lady for ever:  thou hast not
laid these things to thy heart, neither hast thou remembered thy latter
47:8. And now hear these things, thou that art delicate, and dwellest
confidently, that sayest in thy heart:  I am, and there is none else
besides me:  I shall not sit as a widow, and I shall not know
47:9. These two things shall come upon thee suddenly in one day,
barrenness and widowhood.  All things are come upon thee, because of the
multitude of thy sorceries, and for the great hardness of thy
47:10. And thou hast trusted in thy wickedness, and hast said:  There is
none that seeth me.  Thy wisdom, and, thy knowledge, this hath deceived
thee.  And thou hast said in thy heart:  I am, and besides me there is no
47:11. Evil shall come upon thee, and thou shalt not know the rising
thereof:  and calamity shall fall violently upon thee, which thou canst
not keep off:  misery shall come upon thee suddenly, which thou shalt
47:12. Stand now with thy enchanters, and with the multitude of thy
sorceries, in which thou hast laboured from thy youth, if so be it may
profit thee any thing, or if thou mayst become stronger.
47:13. Thou hast failed in the multitude of thy counsels:  let now the
astrologers stand and save thee, they that gazed at the stars, and
counted the months, that from them they might tell the things that
shall come to thee.
47:14. Behold they are as stubble, fire hath burnt them, they shall not
deliver themselves from the power of the flames:  there are no coals
wherewith they may be warmed, nor fire, that they may sit thereat.
47:15. Such are all the things become to thee, in which thou hast
laboured:  thy merchants from thy youth, every one hath erred in his own
way, there is none that can save thee.
Isaias Chapter 48
He reproaches the Jews for their obstinacy:  he will deliver them out of
their captivity, for his own name's sake.
48:1. Hear ye these things, O house of Jacob, you that are called by
the name of Israel, and are come forth out of the waters of Juda, you
who swear by the name of the Lord, and make mention of the God of
Israel, but not in truth, nor in justice.
48:2. For they are called of the holy city, and are established upon
the God of Israel:  the Lord of hosts is his name.
48:3. The former things of old, I have declared, and they went forth
out of my mouth, and I have made them to be heard:  I did them suddenly
and they came to pass.
48:4. For I knew that thou art stubborn, and thy neck is as an iron
sinew, and thy forehead as brass.
48:5. I foretold thee of old, before they came to pass I told thee,
lest thou shouldst say:  My idols have done these things, and my graven
and molten things have commanded them.
48:6. See now all the things which thou hast heard:  but have you
declared them?  I have shewn thee new things from that time, and things
are kept which thou knowest not:
48:7. They are created now, and not of old:  and before the day, when
thou heardest them not, lest thou shouldst say:  Behold I knew them.
48:8. Thou hast neither heard, nor known, neither was thy ear opened of
old.  For I know that transgressing thou wilt transgress, and I have
called thee a transgressor from the womb.
48:9. For my name's sake I will remove my wrath far off:  and for my
praise I will bridle thee, lest thou shouldst perish.
48:10. Behold I have refined thee, but not as silver, I have chosen
thee in the furnace of poverty.
48:11. For my own sake, for my own sake will I do it, that I may not be
blasphemed:  and I will not give my glory to another.
48:12. Hearken to me, O Jacob, and thou Israel whom I call:  I am he, I
am the first, and I am the last.
48:13. My hand also hath founded the earth, and my right hand hath
measured the heavens:  I shall call them, and they shall stand together.
48:14. Assemble yourselves together, all you, and hear:  who among them
hath declared these things?  the Lord hath loved him, he will do his
pleasure in Babylon, and his arm shall be on the Chaldeans.
48:15. I, even I have spoken and called him:  I have brought him, and
his way is made prosperous.
48:16. Come ye near unto me, and hear this:  I have not spoken in secret
from the beginning:  from the time before it was done, I was there, and
now the Lord God hath sent me, and his spirit.
48:17. Thus saith the Lord thy redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:  I am
the Lord thy God that teach thee profitable things, that govern thee in
the way that thou walkest.
48:18. O that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments:  thy peace had
been as a river, and thy justice as the waves of the sea,
48:19. And thy seed had been as the sand, and the offspring of thy
bowels like the gravel thereof:  his name should not have perished, nor
have been destroyed from before my face.
48:20. Come forth out of Babylon, flee ye from the Chaldeans, declare
it with the voice of joy:  make this to be heard, and speak it out even
to the ends of the earth.  Say:  The Lord hath redeemed his servant
48:21. They thirsted not in the desert, when he led them out:  he
brought forth water out of the rock for them, and he clove the rock,
and the waters gushed out.
48:22. There is no peace to the wicked, saith the Lord.
Isaias Chapter 49
Christ shall bring the Gentiles to salvation.  God's love to his church
is perpetual.
49:1. Give ear, ye islands, and hearken, ye people from afar.  The Lord
hath called me from the womb, from the bowels of my mother he hath been
mindful of my name.
49:2. And he hath made my mouth like a sharp sword:  in the shadow of
his hand he hath protected me, and hath made me as a chosen arrow:  in
his quiver he hath hidden me.
49:3. And he said to me:  Thou art my servant Israel, for in thee will I
49:4. And I said:  I have laboured in vain, I have spent my strength
without cause and in vain:  therefore my judgment is with the Lord, and
my work with my God.
49:5. And now saith the Lord, that formed me from the womb to be his
servant, that I may bring back Jacob unto him, and Israel will not be
gathered together:  and I am glorified in the eyes of the Lord, and my
God is made my strength.
49:6. And he said:  It is a small thing that thou shouldst be my servant
to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to convert the dregs of Israel.
Behold, I have given thee to be the light of the Gentiles, that thou
mayst be my salvation even to the farthest part of the earth.
49:7. Thus saith the Lord the redeemer of Israel, his Holy One, to the
soul that is despised, to the nation that is abhorred, to the servant
of rulers:  Kings shall see, and princes shall rise up, and adore for
the Lord's sake, because he is faithful, and for the Holy One of
Israel, who hath chosen thee.
49:8. Thus saith the Lord:  In an acceptable time I have heard thee, and
in the day of salvation I have helped thee:  and I have preserved thee,
and given thee to be a covenant of the people, that thou mightest raise
up the earth, and possess the inheritances that were destroyed:
49:9. That thou mightest say to them that are bound:  Come forth:  and to
them that are in darkness:  Shew yourselves.  They shall feed in the
ways, and their pastures shall be in every plain.
49:10. They shall not hunger, nor thirst, neither shall the heat nor
the sun strike them:  for he that is merciful to them, shall be their
shepherd, and at the fountains of waters he shall give them drink.
49:11. And I will make all my mountains a way, and my paths shall be
49:12. Behold these shall come from afar, and behold these from the
north and from the sea, and these from the south country.
49:13. Give praise, O ye heavens, and rejoice, O earth, ye mountains,
give praise with jubilation:  because the Lord hath comforted his
people, and will have mercy on his poor ones.
49:14. And Sion said:  The Lord hath forsaken me, and the Lord hath
forgotten me.
49:15. Can a woman forget her infant, so as not to have pity on the son
of her womb?  and if she should forget, yet will not I forget thee.
49:16. Behold, I have graven thee in my hands:  thy walls are always
before my eyes.
49:17. Thy builders are come:  they that destroy thee and make thee
waste shall go out of thee.
49:18. Lift up thy eyes round about, and see all these are gathered
together, they are come to thee:  I live, saith the Lord, thou shalt be
clothed with all these as with an ornament, and as a bride thou shalt
put them about thee.
49:19. For thy deserts, and thy desolate places, and the land of thy
destruction shall now be too narrow by reason of the inhabitants, and
they that swallowed thee up shall be chased far away.
49:20. The children of thy barrenness shall still say in thy ears:  The
place is too strait for me, make me room to dwell in.
49:21. And thou shalt say in thy heart:  Who hath begotten these?  I was
barren and brought not forth, led away, and captive:  and who hath
brought up these?  I was destitute and alone:  and these, where were
49:22. Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I will lift up my hand to the
Gentiles, and will set up my standard to the people.  And they shall
bring thy sons in their arms, and carry thy daughters upon their
49:23. And kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and queens thy nurses:
they shall worship thee with their face toward the earth, and they
shall lick up the dust of thy feet.  And thou shalt know that I am the
Lord, for they shall not be confounded that wait for him.
49:24. Shall the prey be taken from the strong?  or can that which was
taken by the mighty, be delivered?
49:25. For thus saith the Lord:  Yea verily, even the captivity shall be
taken away from the strong:  and that which was taken by the mighty,
shall be delivered.  But I will judge those that have judged thee, and
thy children I will save.
49:26. And I will feed thy enemies with their own flesh:  and they shall
be made drunk with their own blood, as with new wine:  and all flesh
shall know, that I am the Lord that save thee, and thy Redeemer the
Mighty One of Jacob.
Isaias Chapter 50
The synagogue shall be divorced for her iniquities.  Christ for her sake
will endure ignominious afflictions.
50:1. Thus saith the Lord:  What is this bill of the divorce of your
mother, with which I have put her away?  or who is my creditor, to whom
I sold you:  behold you are sold for your iniquities, and for your
wicked deeds have I put your mother away.
50:2. Because I came, and there was not a man:  I called, and there was
none that would hear.  Is my hand shortened and become little, that I
cannot redeem?  or is there no strength in me to deliver?  Behold at my
rebuke I will make the sea a desert, I will turn the rivers into dry
land:  the fishes shall rot for want of water, and shall die for thirst.
50:3. I will clothe the heavens with darkness, and will make sackcloth
their covering.
50:4. The Lord hath given me a learned tongue, that I should know how
to uphold by word him that is weary:  he wakeneth in the morning, in the
morning he wakeneth my ear, that I may hear him as a master.
50:5. The Lord God hath opened my ear, and I do not resist:  I have not
50:6. I have given my body to the strikers, and my cheeks to them that
plucked them:  I have not turned away my face from them that rebuked me,
and spit upon me.
50:7. The Lord God is my helper, therefore am I not confounded:
therefore have I set my face as a most hard rock, and I know that I
shall not be confounded.
50:8. He is near that justifieth me, who will contend with me?  let us
stand together, who is my adversary?  let him come near to me.
50:9. Behold the Lord God is my helper:  who is he that shall condemn
me?  Lo, they shall all be destroyed as a garment, the moth shall eat
50:10. Who is there among you that feareth the Lord, that heareth the
voice of his servant, that hath walked in darkness, and hath no light?
let him hope in the name of the Lord, and lean upon his God.
50:11. Behold all you that kindle a fire, encompassed with flames, walk
in the light of your fire, and in the flames which you have kindled:
this is done to you by my hand, you shall sleep in sorrows.
Isaias Chapter 51
An exhortation to trust in Christ.  He shall protect the children of his
51:1. Give ear to me, you that follow that which is just, and you that
seek the Lord:  look unto the rock whence you are hewn, and to the hole
of the pit from which you are dug out.
51:2. Look unto Abraham your father, and to Sara that bore you:  for I
called him alone, and blessed him, and multiplied him.
51:3. The Lord therefore will comfort Sion, and will comfort all the
ruins thereof:  and he will make her desert as a place of pleasure, and
her wilderness as the garden of the Lord.  Joy and gladness shall be
found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of praise.
51:4. Hearken unto me, O my people, and give ear to me, O my tribes:
for a law shall go forth from me, and my judgment shall rest to be a
light of the nations.
51:5. My just one is near at hand, my saviour is gone forth, and my
arms shall judge the people:  the islands shall look for me, and shall
patiently wait for my arm.
51:6. Lift up your eyes to heaven, and look down to the earth beneath:
for the heavens shall vanish like smoke, and the earth shall be worn
away like a garment, and the inhabitants thereof shall perish in like
manner:  but my salvation shall be for ever, and my justice shall not
51:7. Hearken to me, you that know what is just, my people who have my
law in your heart:  fear ye not the reproach of men, and be not afraid
of their blasphemies.
51:8. For the worm shall eat them up as a garment:  and the moth shall
consume them as wool:  but my salvation shall be for ever, and my
justice from generation to generation.
51:9. Arise, arise, put on strength, O thou arm of the Lord, arise as
in the days of old, in the ancient generations.  Hast not thou struck
the proud one, and wounded the dragon?
51:10. Hast not thou dried up the sea, the water of the mighty deep,
who madest the depth of the sea a way, that the delivered might pass
51:11. And now they that are redeemed by the Lord, shall return, and
shall come into Sion singing praises, and joy everlasting shall be upon
their heads, they shall obtain joy and gladness, sorrow and mourning
shall flee away.
51:12. I myself will comfort you:  who art thou, that thou shouldst be
afraid of a mortal man, and of the son of man, who shall wither away
51:13. And thou hast forgotten the Lord thy maker, who stretched out
the heavens, and founded the earth:  and thou hast been afraid
continually all the day at the presence of his fury who afflicted thee,
and had prepared himself to destroy thee:  where is now the fury of the
51:14. He shall quickly come that is going to open unto you, and he
shall not kill unto utter destruction, neither shall his bread fail.
51:15. But I am the Lord thy God, who trouble the sea, and the waves
thereof swell:  the Lord of hosts is my name.
51:16. I have put my words in thy mouth, and have protected thee in the
shadow of my hand, that thou mightest plant the heavens, and found the
earth:  and mightest say to Sion:  Thou art my people.
51:17. Arise, arise, stand up, O Jerusalem, which hast drunk at the
hand of the Lord the cup of his wrath; thou hast drunk even to the
bottom of the cup of dead sleep, and thou hast drunk even to the dregs.
51:18. There is none that can uphold her among all the children that
she hath brought forth:  and there is none that taketh her by the hand
among all the children that she hath brought up.
51:19. There are two things that have happened to thee:  who shall be
sorry for thee?  desolation, and destruction, and the famine, and the
sword, who shall comfort thee?
51:20. Thy children are cast forth, they have slept at the head of all
the ways, and the wild ox that is snared:  full of the indignation of
the Lord, of the rebuke of thy God.
51:21. Therefore hear this, thou poor little one, and thou that art
drunk but not with wine.
51:22. Thus saith thy Sovereign the Lord, and thy God, who will fight
for his people:  Behold I have taken out of thy hand the cup of dead
sleep, the dregs of the cup of my indignation, thou shalt not drink it
again any more.
51:23. And I will put it in the hand of them that have oppressed thee,
and have said to thy soul:  Bow down, that we may go over:  and thou hast
laid thy body as the ground, and as a way to them that went over.
Isaias Chapter 52
Under the figure of the deliverance from the Babylonish captivity, the
church is invited to rejoice for her redemption from sin.  Christ's
kingdom shall be exalted.
52:1. Arise, arise, put on thy strength, O Sion, put on the garments of
thy glory, O Jerusalem, the city of the Holy One:  for henceforth the
uncircumcised, and unclean shall no more pass through thee.
52:2. Shake thyself from the dust, arise, sit up, O Jerusalem:  loose
the bonds from off thy neck, O captive daughter of Sion.
52:3. For thus saith the Lord:  You were sold gratis, and you shall be
redeemed, without money.
52:4. For thus saith the Lord God:  My people went down into Egypt at
the beginning to sojourn there:  and the Assyrian hath oppressed them
without any cause at all.
52:5. And now what have I here, saith the Lord:  for my people is taken
away gratis.  They that rule over them treat them unjustly, saith the
Lord, and my name is continually blasphemed all the day long.
52:6. Therefore my people shall know my name in that day:  for I myself
that spoke, behold I am here.
52:7. How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that
bringeth good tidings, and that preacheth peace:  of him that sheweth
forth good, that preacheth salvation, that saith to Sion:  Thy God shall
52:8. The voice of thy watchmen:  they have lifted up their voice, they
shall praise together:  for they shall see eye to eye when the Lord
shall convert Sion.
52:9. Rejoice, and give praise together, O ye deserts of Jerusalem:  for
the Lord hath comforted his people:  he hath redeemed Jerusalem.
52:10. The Lord hath prepared his holy arm in the sight of all the
Gentiles:  and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our
52:11. Depart, depart, go ye out from thence, touch no unclean thing:
go out of the midst of her, be ye clean, you that carry the vessels of
52:12. For you shall not go out in a tumult, neither shall you make
haste by flight:  for the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel
will gather you together.
52:13. Behold my servant shall understand, he shall be exalted, and
extolled, and shall be exceeding high.
52:14. As many have been astonished at thee, so shall his visage be
inglorious among men, and his form among the sons of men.
52:15. He shall sprinkle many nations, kings shall shut their mouth at
him:  for they to whom it was not told of him, have seen:  and they that
heard not, have beheld.
Isaias Chapter 53
A prophecy of the passion of Christ.
53:1. Who a hath believed our report?  and to whom is the arm of the
Lord revealed?
53:2. And he shall grow up as a tender plant before him, and as a root
out of a thirsty ground:  there is no beauty in him, nor comeliness:  and
we have seen him, and there was no sightliness, that we should be
desirous of him:
53:3. Despised, and the most abject of men, a man of sorrows, and
acquainted with infirmity:  and his look was as it were hidden and
despised, whereupon we esteemed him not.
53:4. Surely he hath borne our infirmities and carried our sorrows:  and
we have thought him as it were a leper, and as one struck by God and
53:5. But he was wounded for our iniquities, he was bruised for our
sins:  the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his bruises we
53:6. All we like sheep have gone astray, every one hath turned aside
into his own way:  and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.
53:7. He was offered because it was his own will, and he opened not his
mouth:  he shall be led as a sheep to the slaughter, and shall be dumb
as a lamb before his shearer, and he shall not open his mouth.
53:8. He was taken away from distress, and from judgment:  who shall
declare his generation?  because he is cut off out of the land of the
living:  for the wickedness of my people have I struck him.
53:9. And he shall give the ungodly for his burial, and the rich for
his death:  because he hath done no iniquity, neither was there deceit
in his mouth.
53:10. And the Lord was pleased to bruise him in infirmity:  if he shall
lay down his life for sin, he shall see a longlived seed, and the will
of the Lord shall be prosperous in his hand.
53:11. Because his soul hath laboured, he shall see and be filled:  by
his knowledge shall this my just servant justify many, and he shall
bear their iniquities.
53:12. Therefore will I distribute to him very many, and he shall
divide the spoils of the strong, because he hath delivered his soul
unto death, and was reputed with the wicked:  and he hath borne the sins
of many, and hath prayed for the transgressors.
Isaias Chapter 54
The Gentiles, who were barren before, shall multiply in the church of
Christ:  from which God's mercy shall never depart.
54:1. Give praise, O thou barren, that bearest not:  sing forth praise,
and make a joyful noise, thou that didst not travail with child:  for
many are the children of the desolate, more than of her that hath a
husband, saith the Lord.
54:2. Enlarge the place of thy tent, and stretch out the skins of thy
tabernacles, spare not:  lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes.
54:3. For thou shalt pass on to the right hand, and to the left:  and
thy seed shall inherit the Gentiles, and shall inhabit the desolate
54:4. Fear not, for thou shalt not be confounded, nor blush:  for thou
shalt not be put to shame, because thou shalt forget the shame of thy
youth, and shalt remember no more the reproach of thy widowhood.
54:5. For he that made thee shall rule over thee, the Lord of hosts is
his name:  and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel, shall be called the
God of all the earth.
54:6. For the Lord hath called thee as a woman forsaken and mourning in
spirit, and as a wife cast off from her youth, said thy God.
54:7. For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies
will I gather thee.
54:8. In a moment of indignation have I hid my face a little while from
thee, but with everlasting kindness have I had mercy on thee, said the
Lord thy Redeemer.
54:9. This thing is to me as in the days of Noe, to whom I swore, that
I would no more bring in the waters of Noe upon the earth:  so have I
sworn not to be angry with thee, and not to rebuke thee.
54:10. For the mountains shall be moved, and the hills shall tremble;
but my mercy shall not depart from thee, and the covenant of my peace
shall not be moved:  said the Lord that hath mercy on thee.
54:11. O poor little one, tossed with tempest, without all comfort,
behold I will lay thy stones in order, and will lay thy foundations
with sapphires,
54:12. And I will make thy bulwarks of jasper:  and thy gates of graven
stones, and all thy borders of desirable stones.
54:13. All thy children shall be taught of the Lord:  and great shall be
the peace of thy children.
54:14. And thou shalt be founded in justice:  depart far from
oppression, for thou shalt not fear; and from terror, for it shall not
come near thee.
54:15. Behold, an inhabitant shall come, who was not with me, he that
was a stranger to thee before, shall be joined to thee.
54:16. Behold, I have created the smith that bloweth the coals in the
fire, and bringeth forth an instrument for his work, and I have created
the killer to destroy.
54:17. No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper:  and every
tongue that resisteth thee in judgment, thou shalt condemn.  This is the
inheritance of the servants of the Lord, and their justice with me,
saith the Lord.
Isaias Chapter 55
God promises abundance of spiritual graces to the faithful, that shall
believe in Christ out of all nations, and sincerely serve him.
55:1. All you that thirst, come to the waters:  and you that have no
money make haste, buy, and eat:  come ye, buy wine and milk without
money, and without any price.
55:2. Why do you spend money for that which is not bread, and your
labour for that which doth not satisfy you?  Hearken diligently to me,
and eat that which is good, and your soul shall be delighted in
55:3. Incline your ear and come to me:  hear and your soul shall live,
and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, the faithful mercies
55:4. Behold I have given him for a witness to the people, for a leader
and a master to the Gentiles.
55:5. Behold thou shalt call a nation, which thou knewest not:  and the
nations that knew not thee shall run to thee, because of the Lord thy
God, and for the Holy One of Israel, for he hath glorified thee.
55:6. Seek ye the Lord, while he may be found:  call upon him, while he
55:7. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unjust man his thoughts,
and let him return to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him, and to
our God:  for he is bountiful to forgive.
55:8. For my thoughts are not your thoughts:  nor your ways my ways,
saith the Lord.
55:9. For as the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are my ways
exalted above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts.
55:10. And as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and return
no more thither, but soak the earth, and water it, and make it to
spring, and give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater:
55:11. So shall my word be, which shall go forth from my mouth:  it
shall not return to me void, but it shall do whatsoever I please, and
shall prosper in the things for which I sent it.
55:12. For you shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace:  the
mountains and the hills shall sing praise before you, and all the trees
of the country shall clap their hands.
55:13. Instead of the shrub, shall come up the fir tree, and instead of
the nettle, shall come up the myrtle tree:  and the Lord shall be named
for an everlasting sign, that shall not be taken away.
Isaias Chapter 56
God invites all to keep his commandments:  the Gentiles that keep them
shall be the people of God:  the Jewish pastors are reproved.
56:1. Thus saith the Lord:  Keep ye judgment, and do justice:  for my
salvation is near to come, and my justice to be revealed.
56:2. Blessed is the man that doth this, and the son of man that shall
lay hold on this:  that keepeth the sabbath from profaning it, that
keepeth his hands from doing any evil.
56:3. And let not the son of the stranger, that adhereth to the Lord,
speak, saying:  The Lord will divide and separate me from his people.
And let not the eunuch say:  Behold I am a dry tree.
56:4. For thus saith the Lord to the eunuchs, They that shall keep my
sabbaths, and shall choose the things that please me, and shall hold
fast my covenant:
56:5. I will give to them in my house, and within my walls, a place,
and a name better than sons and daughters:  I will give them an
everlasting name which shall never perish.
56:6. And the children of the stranger that adhere to the Lord, to
worship him, and to love his name, to be his servants:  every one that
keepeth the sabbath from profaning it, and that holdeth fast my
56:7. I will bring them into my holy mount, and will make them joyful
in my house of prayer:  their holocausts, and their victims shall please
me upon my altar:  for my house shall be called the house of prayer, for
all nations.
56:8. The Lord God, who gathereth the scattered of Israel, saith:  I
will still gather unto him his congregation.
56:9. All ye beasts of the field come to devour, all ye beasts of the
56:10. His watchmen are all blind, they are all ignorant:  dumb dogs not
able to bark, seeing vain things, sleeping and loving dreams.
56:11. And most impudent dogs, they never had enough:  the shepherds
themselves knew no understanding:  all have turned aside into their own
way, every one after his own gain, from the first even to the last.
56:12. Come, let us take wine, and be filled with drunkenness:  and it
shall be as to day, so also to morrow, and much more.
Isaias Chapter 57
The infidelity of the Jews:  their idolatry.  Promises to humble
57:1. The just perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart, and men of
mercy are taken away, because there is none that understandeth; for the
just man is taken away from before the face of evil.
57:2. Let peace come, let him rest in his bed that hath walked in his
uprightness.
57:3. But draw near hither, you sons of the sorceress, the seed of the
adulterer, and of the harlot.
57:4. Upon whom have you jested?  upon whom have you opened your mouth
wide, and put out your tongue?  are not you wicked children, a false
57:5. Who seek your comfort in idols under every green tree,
sacrificing children in the torrents, under the high rocks?
57:6. In the parts of the torrent is thy portion, this is thy lot:  and
thou hast poured out libations to them, thou hast offered sacrifice.
Shall I not be angry at these things?
57:7. Upon a high and lofty mountain thou hast laid thy bed, and hast
gone up thither to offer victims.
57:8. And behind the door, and behind the post thou hast set up thy
remembrance:  for thou hast discovered thyself near me, and hast
received an adulterer:  thou hast enlarged thy bed, and made a covenant
with them:  thou hast loved their bed with open hand.
57:9. And thou hast adorned thyself for the king with ointment, and
hast multiplied thy perfumes.  Thou hast sent thy messengers far off,
and wast debased even to hell.
57:10. Thou hast been wearied in the multitude of thy ways:  yet thou
saidst not:  I will rest:  thou has found life of thy hand, therefore
thou hast not asked.
57:11. For whom hast thou been solicitous and afraid, that thou hast
lied, and hast not been mindful of me, nor thought on me in thy heart?
for I am silent, and as one that seeth not, and thou hast forgotten me.
57:12. I will declare thy justice, and thy works shall not profit thee.
57:13. When thou shalt cry, let thy companies deliver thee, but the
wind shall carry them all off, a breeze shall take them away, but he
that putteth his trust in me, shall inherit the land, and shall possess
my holy mount.
57:14. And I will say:  Make a way:  give free passage, turn out of the
path, take away the stumblingblocks out of the way of my people.
57:15. For thus saith the High and the Eminent that inhabiteth
eternity:  and his name is Holy, who dwelleth in the high and holy
place, and with a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of
the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite.
57:16. For I will not contend for ever, neither will I be angry unto
the end:  because the spirit shall go forth from my face, and breathings
I will make.
57:17. For the iniquity of his covetousness I was angry, and I struck
him:  I hid my face from thee, and was angry:  and he went away wandering
in his own heart.
57:18. I saw his ways, and I healed him, and brought him back, and
restored comforts to him, and to them that mourn for him.
57:19. I created the fruit of the lips, peace, peace to him that is far
off, and to him that is near, said the Lord, and I healed him.
57:20. But the wicked are like the raging sea, which cannot rest, and
the waves thereof cast up dirt and mire.
57:21. There is no peace to the wicked, saith the Lord God.
Isaias Chapter 58
God rejects the hypocritical fasts of the Jews:  recommends works of
mercy, and sincere godliness.
58:1. Cry, cease not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and shew my
people their wicked doings, and the house of Jacob their sins.
58:2. For they seek me from day to day, and desire to know my ways, as
a nation that hath done justice, and hath not forsaken the judgment of
their God:  they ask of me the judgments of justice:  they are willing to
approach to God.
58:3. Why have we fasted, and thou hast not regarded:  have we humbled
our souls, and thou hast not taken notice?  Behold in the day of your
fast your own will is found, and you exact of all your debtors.
58:4. Behold you fast for debates and strife, and strike with the fist
wickedly.  Do not fast as you have done until this day, to make your cry
to be heard on high.
58:5. Is this such a fast as I have chosen:  for a man to afflict his
soul for a day?  is this it, to wind his head about like a circle, and
to spread sackcloth and ashes?  wilt thou call this a fast, and a day
acceptable to the Lord?
58:6. Is not this rather the fast that I have chosen?  loose the bands
of wickedness, undo the bundles that oppress, let them that are broken
go free, and break asunder every burden.
58:7. Deal thy bread to the hungry, and bring the needy and the
harbourless into thy house:  when thou shalt see one naked, cover him,
and despise not thy own flesh.
58:8. Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy health
shall speedily arise, and thy justice shall go before thy face, and the
glory of the Lord shall gather thee up.
58:9. Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall hear:  thou shalt cry,
and he shall say, Here I am.  If thou wilt take away the chain out of
the midst of thee, and cease to stretch out the finger, and to speak
that which profiteth not.
58:10. When thou shalt pour out thy soul to the hungry, and shalt
satisfy the afflicted soul, then shall thy light rise up in darkness,
and thy darkness shall be as the noonday.
58:11. And the Lord will give thee rest continually, and will fill thy
soul with brightness, and deliver thy bones, and thou shalt be like a
watered garden, and like a fountain of water whose waters shall not
58:12. And the places that have been desolate for ages shall be built
in thee:  thou shalt raise up the foundation of generation and
generation:  and thou shalt be called the repairer of the fences,
turning the paths into rest.
58:13. If thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath, from doing thy own
will in my holy day, and call the sabbath delightful, and the holy of
the Lord glorious, and glorify him, while thou dost not thy own ways,
and thy own will is not found, to speak a word:
58:14. Then shalt thou be delighted in the Lord, and I will lift thee
up above the high places of the earth, and will feed thee with the
inheritance of Jacob thy father.  For the mouth of the Lord hath spoken
Isaias Chapter 59
The dreadful evil of sin is displayed, as the great obstacle to all
good from God:  yet he will send a Redeemer, and make an everlasting
covenant with his church.
59:1. Behold the hand of the Lord is not shortened that it cannot save,
neither is his ear heavy that it cannot hear.
59:2. But your iniquities have divided between you and your God, and
your sins have hid his face from you that he should not hear.
59:3. For your hands are defiled with blood, and your fingers with
iniquity:  your lips have spoken lies, and your tongue uttereth
59:4. There is none that calleth upon justice, neither is there any one
that judgeth truly:  but they trust in a mere nothing, and speak
vanities:  they have conceived labour, and brought forth iniquity.
59:5. They have broken the eggs of asps, and have woven the webs of
spiders:  he that shall eat of their eggs, shall die:  and that which is
brought out, shall be hatched into a basilisk.
59:6. Their webs shall not be for clothing, neither shall they cover
themselves with their works:  their works are unprofitable works, and
the work of iniquity is in their hands.
59:7. Their feet run to evil, and make haste to shed innocent blood:
their thoughts are unprofitable thoughts:  wasting and destruction are
in their ways.
59:8. They have not known the way of peace, and there is no judgment in
their steps:  their paths are become crooked to them, every one that
treadeth in them knoweth no peace.
59:9. Therefore is judgment far from us, and justice shall not overtake
us.  We looked for light, and behold darkness:  brightness, and we have
walked in the dark.
59:10. We have groped for the wall, and like the blind we have groped
as if we had no eyes:  we have stumbled at noonday as in darkness, we
are in dark places, as dead men.
59:11. We shall roar all of us like bears, and shall lament as mournful
doves.  We have looked for judgment, and there is none:  for salvation,
and it is far from us.
59:12. For our iniquities are multiplied before thee, and our sins have
testified against us:  for our wicked doings are with us, and have known
our iniquities:
59:13. In sinning and lying against the Lord:  and we have turned away
so that we went not after our God, but spoke calumny and transgression:
we have conceived, and uttered from the heart, words of falsehood.
59:14. And judgment is turned away backward, and justice hath stood far
off:  because truth hath fallen down in the street, and equity could not
59:15. And truth hath been forgotten:  and he that departed from evil,
lay open to be a prey:  and the Lord saw, and it appeared evil in his
eyes, because there is no judgment.
59:16. And he saw that there is not a man:  and he stood astonished,
because there is none to oppose himself:  and his own arm brought
salvation to him, and his own justice supported him.
59:17. He put on justice as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation
upon his head:  he put on the garments of vengeance, and was clad with
zeal as with a cloak.
59:18. As unto revenge, as it were to repay wrath to his adversaries,
and a reward to his enemies:  he will repay the like to the islands.
59:19. And they from the west, shall fear the name of the Lord:  and
they from the rising of the sun, his glory when he shall come as a
violent stream, which the spirit of the Lord driveth on:
59:20. And there shall come a redeemer to Sion, and to them that return
from iniquity in Jacob, saith the Lord.
59:21. This is my covenant with them, saith the Lord:  My spirit that is
in thee, and my words that I have put in thy mouth, shall not depart
out of thy mouth, nor out of the mouth of thy seed, nor out of the
mouth of thy seed's seed, saith the Lord, from henceforth and for ever.
This is my covenant, etc. . .Note here a clear promise of perpetual
orthodoxy to the church of Christ.
Isaias Chapter 60
The light of true faith shall shine forth in the church of Christ, and
shall be spread through all nations, and continue for all ages.
60:1. Arise, be enlightened, O Jerusalem:  for thy light is come, and
the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
60:2. For behold darkness shall cover the earth, and a mist the people:
but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon
60:3. And the Gentiles shall walk in thy light, and kings in the
brightness of thy rising.
60:4. Lift up thy eyes round about, and see:  all these are gathered
together, they are come to thee:  thy sons shall come from afar, and thy
daughters shall rise up at thy side.
60:5. Then shalt thou see, and abound, and thy heart shall wonder and
be enlarged, when the multitude of the sea shall be converted to thee,
the strength of the Gentiles shall come to thee.
60:6. The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of
Madian and Epha:  all they from Saba shall come, bringing gold and
frankincense:  and shewing forth praise to the Lord.
60:7. All the flocks of Cedar shall be gathered together unto thee, the
rams of Nabaioth shall minister to thee:  they shall be offered upon my
acceptable altar, and I will glorify the house of my majesty.
60:8. Who are these, that fly as clouds, and as doves to their windows?
60:9. For, the islands wait for me, and the ships of the sea in the
beginning:  that I may bring thy sons from afar:  their silver, and their
gold with them, to the name of the Lord thy God, and to the Holy One of
Israel, because he hath glorified thee.
60:10. And the children of strangers shall build up thy walls, and
their kings shall minister to thee:  for in my wrath have I struck thee,
and in my reconciliation have I had mercy upon thee.
60:11. And thy gates shall be open continually:  they shall not be shut
day nor night, that the strength of the Gentiles may be brought to
thee, and their kings may be brought.
60:12. For the nation and the kingdom that will not serve thee, shall
perish:  and the Gentiles shall be wasted with desolation.
60:13. The glory of Libanus shall come to thee, the fir tree, and the
box tree, and the pine tree together, to beautify the place of my
sanctuary:  and I will glorify the place of my feet.
60:14. And the children of them that afflict thee, shall come bowing
down to thee, and all that slandered thee shall worship the steps of
thy feet, and shall call thee the city of the Lord, the Sion of the
Holy One of Israel.
60:15. Because thou wast forsaken, and hated, and there was none that
passed through thee, I will make thee to be an everlasting glory, a joy
unto generation and generation:
60:16. And thou shalt suck the milk of the Gentiles, and thou shalt be
nursed with the breasts of kings:  and thou shalt know that I am the
Lord thy Saviour, and thy Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob.
60:17. For brass I will bring gold, and for iron I will bring silver:
and for wood brass, and for stones iron:  and I will make thy visitation
peace, and thy overseers justice.
60:18. Iniquity shall no more be heard in thy land, wasting nor
destruction in thy borders, and salvation shall possess thy walls, and
praise thy gates.
60:19. Thou shalt no more have the sun for thy light by day, neither
shall the brightness of the moon enlighten thee:  but the Lord shall be
unto thee for an everlasting light, and thy God for thy glory.
Thou shalt no more, etc. . .In this latter part of the chapter, the
prophet passes from the illustrious promises made to the church
militant on earth, to the glory of the church triumphant in heaven.
60:20. Thy sun shall go down no more, and thy moon shall not decrease:
for the Lord shall be unto thee for an everlasting light, and the days
of thy mourning shall be ended.
60:21. And thy people shall be all just, they shall inherit the land
for ever, the branch of my planting, the work of my hand to glorify me.
60:22. The least shall become a thousand, and a little one a most
strong nation:  I the Lord will suddenly do this thing in its time.
Isaias Chapter 61
The office of Christ:  the mission of the Apostles; the happiness of
their converts.
61:1. The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord hath anointed
me:  he hath sent me to preach to the meek, to heal the contrite of
heart, and to preach a release to the captives, and deliverance to them
that are shut up.
61:2. To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of
vengeance of our God:  to comfort all that mourn:
61:3. To appoint to the mourners of Sion, and to give them a crown for
ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, a garment of praise for the spirit
of grief:  and they shall be called in it the mighty ones of justice,
the planting of the Lord to glorify him.
61:4. And they shall build the places that have been waste from of old,
and shall raise up ancient ruins, and shall repair the desolate cities,
that were destroyed for generation and generation.
61:5. And strangers shall stand and shall feed your flocks:  and the
sons of strangers shall be your husbandman, and the dressers of your
61:6. But you shall be called the priests of the Lord:  to you it shall
be said:  Ye ministers of our God:  you shall eat the riches of the
Gentiles, and you shall pride yourselves in their glory.
61:7. For your double confusion and shame, they shall praise their
part:  therefore shall they receive double in their land, everlasting
joy shall be unto them.
61:8. For I am the Lord that love judgment, and hate robbery in a
holocaust:  and I will make their work in truth, and I will make a
perpetual covenant with them.
61:9. And they shall know their seed among the Gentiles, and their
offspring in the midst of peoples:  all that shall see them, shall know
them, that these are the seed which the Lord hath blessed.
61:10. I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, and my soul shall be joyful
in my God:  for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation:  and
with the robe of justice he hath covered me, as a bridegroom decked
with a crown, and as a bride adorned with her jewels.
61:11. For as the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden
causeth her seed to shoot forth:  so shall the Lord God make justice to
spring forth, and praise before all the nations.
Isaias Chapter 62
The prophet will not cease from preaching Christ:  to whom all nations
shall be converted:  and whose church shall continue for ever.
62:1. For Sion's sake I will not hold my peace, and for the sake of
Jerusalem, I will not rest till her just one come forth as brightness,
and her saviour be lighted as a lamp.
62:2. And the Gentiles shall see thy just one, and all kings thy
glorious one:  and thou shalt be called by a new name, which the mouth
of the Lord shall name.
62:3. And thou shalt be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a
royal diadem in the hand of thy God.
62:4. Thou shalt no more be called Forsaken:  and thy land shall no more
be called Desolate:  but thou shalt be called My pleasure in her, and
thy land inhabited.  Because the Lord hath been well pleased with thee:
and thy land shall be inhabited.
62:5. For the young man shall dwell with the virgin, and thy children
shall dwell in thee.  And the bridegroom shall rejoice over the bride,
and thy God shall rejoice over thee.
62:6. Upon thy walls, O Jerusalem, I have appointed watchmen all the
day, and all the night, they shall never hold their peace.  You that are
mindful of the Lord, hold not your peace,
62:7. And give him no silence till he establish, and till he make
Jerusalem a praise in the earth.
62:8. The Lord hath sworn by his right hand, and by the arm of his
strength:  Surely I will no more give thy corn to be meat for thy
enemies:  and the sons of the strangers shall not drink thy wine, for
which thou hast laboured.
62:9. For they that gather it, shall eat it, and shall praise the Lord:
and they that bring it together, shall drink it in my holy courts.
62:10. Go through, go through the gates, prepare the way for the
people, make the road plain, pick out the stones, and lift up the
standard to the people.
62:11. Behold the Lord hath made it to be heard in the ends of the
earth, tell the daughter of Sion:  Behold thy Saviour cometh:  behold his
reward is with him, and his work before him.
62:12. And they shall call them, The holy people, the redeemed of the
Lord.  But thou shalt be called:  A city sought after, and not forsaken.
Isaias Chapter 63
Christ's victory over his enemies:  his mercies to his people:  their
63:1. Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bosra,
this beautiful one in his robe, walking in the greatness of his
strength.  I, that speak justice, and am a defender to save.
Edom. . .Edom and Bosra (a strong city of Edom) are here taken in a
mystical sense for the enemies of Christ and his church.
63:2. Why then is thy apparel red, and thy garments like theirs that
tread in the winepress?
63:3. I have trodden the winepress alone, and of the Gentiles there is
not a man with me:  I have trampled on them in my indignation, and have
trodden them down in my wrath, and their blood is sprinkled upon my
garments, and I have stained all my apparel.
63:4. For the day of vengeance is in my heart, the year of my
redemption is come.
63:5. I looked about, and there was none to help:  I sought, and there
was none to give aid:  and my own arm hath saved for me, and my
indignation itself hath helped me.
63:6. And I have trodden down the people in my wrath, and have made
them drunk in my indignation, and have brought down their strength to
63:7. I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord, the praise of the
Lord for all the things that the Lord hath bestowed upon us, and for
the multitude of his good things to the house of Israel, which he hath
given them according to his kindness, and according to the multitude of
his mercies.
63:8. And he said:  Surely they are my people, children that will not
deny:  so he became their saviour.
63:9. In all their affliction he was not troubled, and the angel of his
presence saved them:  in his love, and in his mercy he redeemed them,
and he carried them and lifted them up all the days of old.
63:10. But they provoked to wrath, and afflicted the spirit of his Holy
One:  and he was turned to be their enemy, and he fought against them.
63:11. And he remembered the days of old of Moses, and of his people:
Where is he that brought them up out of the sea, with the shepherds of
his flock?  where is he that put in the midst of them the spirit of his
63:12. He that brought out Moses by the right hand, by the arm of his
majesty:  that divided the waters before them, to make himself an
everlasting name.
63:13. He that led them out through the deep, as a horse in the
wilderness that stumbleth not.
63:14. As a beast that goeth down in the field, the spirit of the Lord
was their leader:  so didst thou lead thy people to make thyself a
glorious name.
63:15. Look down from heaven, and behold from thy holy habitation and
the place of thy glory:  where is thy zeal, and thy strength, the
multitude of thy bowels, and of thy mercies?  they have held back
themselves from me.
They have held back, etc. . .This is spoken by the prophet in the person
of the Jews at the time when, for their sins, they were given up to
their enemies.
63:16. For thou art our father, and Abraham hath not known us, and
Israel hath been ignorant of us:  thou, O Lord, art our father, our
redeemer, from everlasting is thy name.
Abraham hath not know us, etc. . .That is, Abraham will not now
acknowledge us for his children, by reason of our degeneracy; but thou,
O Lord, art our true father and our redeemer, and no other can be
called our parent in comparison with thee.
63:17. Why hast thou made us to err, O Lord, from thy ways:  why hast
thou hardened our heart, that we should not fear thee?  return for the
sake of thy servants, the tribes of thy inheritance.
Made us to err, etc.  Hardened our heart, etc. . .The meaning is, that
God in punishment of their great and manifold crimes, and their long
abuse of his mercy and grace, had withdrawn his graces from them, and
so given them up to error and hardness of heart.
63:18. They have possessed thy holy people as nothing:  our enemies have
trodden down thy sanctuary.
63:19. We are become as in the beginning, when thou didst not rule over
us, and when we were not called by thy name.
Isaias Chapter 64
The prophet prays for the release of his people; and for the remission
of their sins.
64:1. O that thou wouldst rend the heavens, and wouldst come down:  the
mountains would melt away at thy presence.
64:2. They would melt as at the burning of fire, the waters would burn
with fire, that thy name might be made known to thy enemies:  that the
nations might tremble at thy presence.
64:3. When thou shalt do wonderful things, we shall not bear them:  thou
didst come down, and at thy presence the mountains melted away.
64:4. From the beginning of the world they have not heard, nor
perceived with the ears:  the eye hath not seen, O God, besides thee,
what things thou hast prepared for them that wait for thee.
64:5. Thou hast met him that rejoiceth, and doth justice:  in thy ways
they shall remember thee:  behold thou art angry, and we have sinned:  in
them we have been always, and we shall be saved.
64:6. And we are all become as one unclean, and all our justices as the
rag of a menstruous woman:  and we have all fallen as a leaf, and our
iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.
Our justices, etc. . .That is, the works by which we pretended to make
ourselves just.  This is spoken particularly of the sacrifices,
sacraments, and ceremonies of the Jews, after the death of Christ, and
the promulgation of the new law.
64:7. There is none that calleth upon thy name:  that riseth up, and
taketh hold of thee:  thou hast hid thy face from us, and hast crushed
us in the hand of our iniquity.
64:8. And now, O Lord, thou art our father, and we are clay:  and thou
art our maker, and we all are the works of thy hands.
64:9. Be not very angry, O Lord, and remember no longer our iniquity:
behold, see we are all thy people.
64:10. The city of thy sanctuary is become a desert, Sion is made a
desert, Jerusalem is desolate.
64:11. The house of our holiness, and of our glory, where our fathers
praised thee, is burnt with fire, and all our lovely things are turned
64:12. Wilt thou refrain thyself, O Lord, upon these things, wilt thou
hold thy peace, and afflict us vehemently?
Isaias Chapter 65
The Gentiles shall seek and find Christ, but the Jews will persecute
him, and be rejected, only a remnant shall be reserved.  The church
shall multiply, and abound with graces.
65:1. They have sought me that before asked not for me, they have found
me that sought me not.  I said:  Behold me, behold me, to a nation that
did not call upon my name.
65:2. I have spread forth my hands all the day to an unbelieving
people, who walk in a way that is not good after their own thoughts.
65:3. A people that continually provoke me to anger before my face,
that immolate in gardens, and sacrifice upon bricks.
65:4. That dwell in sepulchres, and sleep in the temple of idols:  that
eat swine's flesh, and profane broth is in their vessels.
65:5. That say:  Depart from me, come not near me, because thou art
unclean:  these shall be smoke in my anger, a fire burning all the day.
65:6. Behold it is written before me:  I will not be silent, but I will
render and repay into their bosom.
65:7. Your iniquities, and the iniquities of your fathers together,
saith the Lord, who have sacrificed upon the mountains, and have
reproached me upon the hills; and I will measure back their first work
in their bosom.
65:8. Thus saith the Lord:  As if a grain be found in a cluster, and it
be said:  Destroy it not, because it is a blessing:  so will I do for the
sake of my servants, that I may not destroy the whole.
65:9. And I will bring forth a seed out of Jacob, and out of Juda a
possessor of my mountains:  and my elect shall inherit it, and my
servants shall dwell there.
65:10. And the plains shall be turned to folds of flocks, and the
valley of Achor into a place for the herds to lie down in, for my
people that have sought me.
65:11. And you, that have forsaken the Lord, that have forgotten my
holy mount, that set a table for fortune, and offer libations upon it,
65:12. I will number you in the sword, and you shall all fall by
slaughter:  because I called and you did not answer:  I spoke, and you
did not hear:  and you did evil in my eyes, and you have chosen the
things that displease me.
65:13. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold my servants shall eat,
and you shall be hungry:  behold my servants shall drink, and you shall
65:14. Behold my servants shall rejoice, and you shall be confounded:
behold my servants shall praise for joyfulness of heart, and you shall
cry for sorrow of heart, and shall howl for grief of spirit.
65:15. And you shall leave your name for an execration to my elect:  and
the Lord God shall slay thee, and call his servants by another name.
65:16. In which he that is blessed upon the earth, shall be blessed in
God, amen:  and he that sweareth in the earth, shall swear by God, amen:
because the former distresses are forgotten, and because they are hid
from my eyes.
65:17. For behold I create new heavens, and a new earth:  and the former
things shall not be in remembrance, and they shall not come upon the
65:18. But you shall be glad and rejoice for ever in these things,
which I create:  for behold I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and the
people thereof joy.
65:19. And I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and joy in my people, and the
voice of weeping shall no more be heard in her, nor the voice of
65:20. There shall no more be an infant of days there, nor an old man
that shall not fill up his days:  for the child shall die a hundred
years old, and the sinner being a hundred years old shall be accursed.
65:21. And they shall build houses, and inhabit them; and they shall
plant vineyards, and eat the fruits of them.
65:22. They shall not build, and another inhabit; they shall not plant,
and another eat:  for as the days of a tree, so shall be the days of my
people, and the works of their hands shall be of long continuance.
65:23. My elect shall not labour in vain, nor bring forth in trouble;
for they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord, and their posterity
65:24. And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will hear;
as they are yet speaking, I will hear.
65:25. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together; the lion and the ox
shall eat straw; and dust shall be the serpent's food:  they shall not
hurt nor kill in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord.
Isaias Chapter 66
More of the reprobation of the Jews, and of the call of the Gentiles.
66:1. Thus saith the Lord:  Heaven is my throne, and the earth my
footstool:  what is this house that you will build to me?  and what is
this place of my rest?
What is this house, etc. . .This is a prophecy that the temple should be
66:2. My hand made all these things, and all these things were made,
saith the Lord.  But to whom shall I have respect, but to him that is
poor and little, and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at my
66:3. He that sacrificeth an ox, is as if he slew a man:  he that
killeth a sheep in sacrifice, as if he should brain a dog:  he that
offereth an oblation, as if he should offer swine's blood; he that
remembereth incense, as if he should bless an idol.  All these things
have they chosen in their ways, and their soul is delighted in their
abominations.
He that sacrificeth an ox, etc. . .This is a prophecy that the
sacrifices which were offered in the old law should be abolished in the
new; and that the offering of them should be a crime.--Ibid.
Remembereth incense. . .Viz., to offer it in the way of a sacrifice.
66:4. Wherefore I also will choose their mockeries, and will bring upon
them the things they feared:  because I called, and there was none that
would answer; I have spoken, and they heard not; and they have done
evil in my eyes, and have chosen the things that displease me.
I will choose their mockeries. . .I will turn their mockeries upon
themselves; and will cause them to be mocked by their enemies.
66:5. Hear the word of the Lord, you that tremble at his word:  Your
brethren that hate you, and cast you out for my name's sake, have said:
Let the Lord be glorified, and we shall see in your joy:  but they shall
be confounded.
66:6. A voice of the people from the city, a voice from the temple, the
voice of the Lord that rendereth recompense to his enemies.
66:7. Before she was in labour, she brought forth; before her time came
to be delivered, she brought forth a man child.
Before she was in labour, etc. . .This relates to the conversion of the
Gentiles, who were born, as it were, all on a sudden to the church of
66:8. Who hath ever heard such a thing?  and who hath seen the like to
this?  shall the earth bring forth in one day?  or shall a nation be
brought forth at once, because Sion hath been in labour, and hath
brought forth her children?
66:9. Shall not I that make others to bring forth children, myself
bring forth, saith the Lord?  shall I, that give generation to others,
be barren, saith the Lord thy God?
66:10. Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad with her, all you that love
her:  rejoice for joy with her, all you that mourn for her.
66:11. That you may suck, and be filled with the breasts of her
consolations:  that you may milk out, and flow with delights, from the
abundance of her glory.
66:12. For thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will bring upon her as it were
a river of peace, and as an overflowing torrent the glory of the
Gentiles, which you shall suck; you shall be carried at the breasts,
and upon the knees they shall caress you.
66:13. As one whom the mother caresseth, so will I comfort you, and you
shall be comforted in Jerusalem.
66:14. You shall see and your heart shall rejoice, and your bones shall
flourish like an herb, and the hand of the Lord shall be known to his
servants, and he shall be angry with his enemies.
66:15. For behold the Lord will come with fire, and his chariots are
like a whirlwind, to render his wrath in indignation, and his rebuke
with flames of fire.
66:16. For the Lord shall judge by fire, and by his sword unto all
flesh, and the slain of the Lord shall be many.
66:17. They that were sanctified, thought themselves clean in the
gardens behind the gate within, they that did eat swine's flesh, and
the abomination, and the mouse:  they shall be consumed together, saith
66:18. But I know their works, and their thoughts:  I come that I may
gather them together with all nations and tongues:  and they shall come
and shall see my glory.
66:19. And I will set a sign among them, and I will send of them that
shall be saved, to the Gentiles into the sea, into Africa, and Lydia
them that draw the bow:  into Italy, and Greece, to the islands afar
off, to them that have not heard of me, and have not seen my glory.  And
they shall declare my glory to the Gentiles:
66:20. And they shall bring all your brethren out of all nations for a
gift to the Lord, upon horses, and in chariots, and in litters, and on
mules, and in coaches, to my holy mountain Jerusalem, saith the Lord,
as if the children of Israel should bring an offering in a clean vessel
into the house of the Lord.
66:21. And I will take of them to be priests, and Levites, saith the
66:22. For as the new heavens, and the new earth, which I will make to
stand before me, saith the Lord:  so shall your seed stand, and your
66:23. And there shall be month after month, and sabbath after sabbath:
and all flesh shall come to adore before my face, saith the Lord.
66:24. And they shall go out, and see the carcasses of the men that
have transgressed against me:  their worm shall not die, and their fire
shall not be quenched:  and they shall be a loathsome sight to all
THE PROPHECY OF JEREMIAS
Jeremias was a priest, a native of Anathoth, a priestly city in the
tribe of Benjamin:  and was sanctified from his mother's womb, to be a
prophet of God; which office he began to execute when he was yet a
child in age.  He was in his whole life, according to the signification
of his name, Great before the Lord; and a special figure of Jesus
Christ, in the persecutions he underwent for discharging his duty; in
his charity for his persecutors; and in the violent death he suffered
at their hands:  it being an ancient tradition of the Hebrews, that he
was stoned to death by the remnant of the Jews who had retired into
Jeremias Chapter 1
The time, and the calling, of Jeremias:  his prophetical visions.  God
encourages him.
1:1. The words of Jeremias the son of Helcias, of the priests that were
in Anathoth, in the land of Benjamin.
1:2. The word of the Lord which came to him in the days of Josias the
son of Amon king of Juda, in the thirteenth year of his reign.
1:3. And which came to him in the days of Joakim the son of Josias king
of Juda, unto the end of the eleventh year of Sedecias the son of
Josias king of Juda, even unto the carrying away of Jerusalem captive,
in the fifth month.
1:4. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
1:5. Before I formed thee in the bowels of thy mother, I knew thee:  and
before thou camest forth out of the womb, I sanctified thee, and made
thee a prophet unto the nations.
1:6. And I said:  Ah, ah, ah, Lord God:  behold, I cannot speak, for I am
1:7. And the Lord said to me:  Say not:  I am a child:  for thou shalt go
to all that I shall send thee:  and whatsoever I shall command thee,
thou shalt speak.
1:8. Be not afraid at their presence:  for I am with thee to deliver
thee, saith the Lord.
1:9. And the Lord put forth his hand, and touched my mouth:  and the
Lord said to me:  Behold I have given my words in thy mouth:
1:10. Lo, I have set thee this day over the nations, and over kingdoms,
to root up, and to pull down, and to waste, and to destroy, and to
build, and to plant.
1:11. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:  What seest thou,
Jeremias?  And I said:  I see a rod watching.
1:12. And the Lord said to me:  Thou hast seen well:  for I will watch
over my word to perform it.
1:13. And the word of the Lord came to me a second time saying:  What
seest thou?  And I said:  I see a boiling caldron, and the face thereof
from the face of the north.
1:14. And the Lord said to me:  From the north shall an evil break forth
upon all the inhabitants of the land.
1:15. For behold I will call together all the families of the kingdoms
of the north, saith the Lord:  and they shall come, and shall set every
one his throne in the entrance of the gates of Jerusalem, and upon all
the walls thereof round about, and upon all the cities of Juda.
1:16. And I will pronounce my judgments against them, touching all
their wickedness, who have forsaken me, and have sacrificed to strange
gods, and have adored the work of their own hands.
1:17. Thou therefore gird up thy loins, and arise, and speak to them
all that I command thee.  Be not afraid at their presence:  for I will
make thee not to fear their countenance.
1:18. For behold I have made thee this day a fortified city, and a
pillar of iron, and a wall of brass, over all the land, to the kings of
Juda, to the princes thereof, and to the priests, and to the people of
1:19. And they shall fight against them, and shall not prevail:  for I
am with thee, saith the Lord, to deliver thee.
Jeremias Chapter 2
God expostulates with the Jews for their ingratitude and infidelity.
2:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
2:2. Go, and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, saying:  Thus saith the Lord:
I have remembered thee, pitying thy youth, and the love of thy
espousals, when thou followedst me in the desert, in a land that is not
2:3. Israel is holy to the Lord, the firstfruits of his increase:  all
they that devour him offend:  evils shall come upon them, saith the
2:4. Hear ye the word of the Lord, O house of Jacob, and all ye
families of the house of Israel:
2:5. Thus saith the Lord:  What iniquity have your fathers found in me,
that they are gone far from me, and have walked after vanity, and are
become vain?
2:6. And they have not said:  Where is the Lord, that made us come up
out of the land of Egypt?  that led us through the desert, through a
land uninhabited and unpassable, through a land of drought, and the
image of death, through a land wherein no man walked, nor any man
2:7. And I brought you into the land of Carmel, to eat the fruit
thereof, and the best things thereof:  and when ye entered in, you
defiled my land and made my inheritance an abomination.
Carmel. . .That is, a fruitful, plentiful land.
2:8. The priests did not say:  Where is the Lord?  and they that held the
law knew me not, and the pastors transgressed against me:  and the
prophets prophesied in Baal, and followed idols.
2:9. Therefore will I yet contend in judgment with you, saith the Lord,
and I will plead with your children.
2:10. Pass over to the isles of Cethim, and see:  and send into Cedar,
and consider diligently:  and see if there hath been done any thing like
2:11. If a nation hath changed their gods, and indeed they are not
gods:  but my people have changed their glory into an idol.
2:12. Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this, and ye gates thereof, be
very desolate, saith the Lord.
2:13. For my people have done two evils.  They have forsaken me, the
fountain of living water, and have digged to themselves cisterns,
broken cisterns, that can hold no water.
2:14. Is Israel a bondman, or a homeborn slave?  why then is he become a
2:15. The lions have roared upon him, and have made a noise, they have
made his land a wilderness:  his cities are burnt down, and there is
none to dwell in them.
2:16. The children also of Memphis, and of Taphnes have defloured thee,
even to the crown of the head.
2:17. Hath not this been done to thee, because thou hast forsaken the
Lord thy God at that time, when he led thee by the way?
2:18. And now what hast thou to do in the way of Egypt, to drink the
troubled water?  And what hast thou to do with the way of the Assyrians,
to drink the water of the river?
2:19. Thy own wickedness shall reprove thee, and thy apostasy shall
rebuke thee.  Know thou, and see that it is an evil and a bitter thing
for thee, to have left the Lord thy God, and that my fear is not with
thee, saith the Lord the God of hosts.
2:20. Of old time thou hast broken my yoke, thou hast burst my bands,
and thou saidst:  I will not serve.  For on every high hill, and under
every green tree thou didst prostitute thyself.
2:21. Yet, I planted thee a chosen vineyard, all true seed:  how then
art thou turned unto me into that which is good for nothing, O strange
2:22. Though thou wash thyself with nitre, and multiply to thyself the
herb borith, thou art stained in thy iniquity before me, saith the Lord
Borith. . .An herb used to clean clothes, and take out spots and dirt.
2:23. How canst thou say:  I am not polluted, I have not walked after
Baalim?  see thy ways in the valley, know what thou hast done:  as a
swift runner pursuing his course.
2:24. A wild ass accustomed to the wilderness in the desire of his
heart, snuffed up the wind of his love:  none shall turn her away:  all
that seek her shall not fail:  in her monthly filth they shall find her.
2:25. Keep thy foot from being bare, and thy throat from thirst.  But
thou saidst:  I have lost all hope, I will not do it:  for I have loved
strangers, and I will walk after them.
2:26. As the thief is confounded when he is taken, so is the house of
Israel confounded, they and their kings, their princes and their
priests, and their prophets.
2:27. Saying to a stock:  Thou art my father:  and to a stone:  Thou hast
begotten me:  they have turned their back to me, and not their face:  and
in the time of their affliction they will say:  Arise, and deliver us.
2:28. Where are the gods, whom thou hast made thee?  let them arise and
deliver thee in the time of thy affliction:  for according to the number
of thy cities were thy gods, O Juda.
2:29. Why will you contend with me in judgment?  you have all forsaken
me, saith the Lord.
2:30. In vain have I struck your children, they have not received
correction:  your sword hath devoured your prophets, your generation is
like a ravaging lion.
2:31. See ye the word of the Lord:  Am I become a wilderness to Israel,
or a lateward springing land?  why then have my people said:  We are
revolted, we will come to thee no more?
2:32. Will a virgin forget her ornament, or a bride her stomacher?  but
my people hath forgotten me days without number.
2:33. Why dost thou endeavour to shew thy way good to seek my love,
thou who hast also taught thy malices to be thy ways,
2:34. And in thy skirts is found the blood of the souls of the poor and
innocent?  not in ditches have I found them, but in all places, which I
mentioned before.
2:35. And thou hast said:  I am without sin and am innocent:  and
therefore let thy anger be turned away from me.  Behold, I will contend
with thee in judgment, because thou hast said:  I have not sinned.
2:36. How exceeding base art thou become, going the same ways over
again! and thou shalt be ashamed of Egypt, as thou wast ashamed of
2:37. For from thence thou shalt go, and thy hand shall be upon thy
head:  for the Lord hath destroyed thy trust, and thou shalt have
nothing prosperous therein.
Jeremias Chapter 3
God invites the rebel Jews to return to him, with a promise to receive
them:  he foretells the conversion of the Gentiles.
3:1. It is commonly said:  If a man put away his wife, and she go from
him, and marry another man, shall he return to her any more?  shall not
that woman be polluted, and defiled?  but thou hast prostituted thyself
to many lovers:  nevertheless return to me, saith the Lord, and I will
receive thee.
3:2. Lift up thy eyes on high:  and see where thou hast not prostituted
thyself:  thou didst sit in the ways, waiting for them as a robber in
the wilderness:  and thou hast polluted the land with thy fornications,
and with thy wickedness.
3:3. Therefore the showers were withholden, and there was no lateward
rain:  thou hadst a harlot's forehead, thou wouldst not blush.
3:4. Therefore at the least from this time call to me:  Thou art my
father, the guide of my virginity:
3:5. Wilt thou be angry for ever, or wilt thou continue unto the end?
Behold, thou hast spoken, and hast done evil things, and hast been
3:6. And the Lord said to me in the days of king Josias:  Hast thou seen
what rebellious Israel hath done?  she hath gone of herself upon every
high mountain, and under every green tree, and hath played the harlot
3:7. And when she had done all these things, I said:  Return to me, and
she did not return.  And her treacherous sister Juda saw,
3:8. That because the rebellious Israel had played the harlot, I had
put her away, and given her a bill of divorce:  yet her treacherous
sister Juda was not afraid, but went and played the harlot also
3:9. And by the facility of her fornication she defiled the land, and
played the harlot with stones and with stocks.
3:10. And after all this, her treacherous sister Juda hath not returned
to me with her whole heart, but with falsehood, saith the Lord.
3:11. And the Lord said to me:  The rebellious Israel hath justified her
soul, in comparison of the treacherous Juda.
3:12. Go, and proclaim these words towards the north, and thou shalt
say:  Return, O rebellious Israel, saith the Lord, and I will not turn
away my face from you:  for I am holy, saith the Lord, and I will not be
angry for ever.
3:13. But yet acknowledge thy iniquity, that thou hast transgressed
against the Lord thy God:  and thou hast scattered thy ways to strangers
under every green tree, and hast not heard my voice, saith the Lord.
3:14. Return, O ye revolting children, saith the Lord:  for I am your I
husband:  and I will take you, one of a city, and two of a kindred, and
will bring you into Sion.
3:15. And I will give you pastors according to my own heart, and they
shall feed you with knowledge and doctrine.
3:16. And when you shall be multiplied, and increase in the land in
those days, saith the Lord, they shall say no more:  The ark of the
covenant of the Lord:  neither shall it come upon the heart, neither
shall they remember it, neither shall it be visited, neither shall that
be done any more.
3:17. At that time Jerusalem shall be called the throne of the Lord:
and all the nations shall be gathered together to it, in the name of
the Lord to Jerusalem, and they shall not walk after the perversity of
their most wicked heart.
3:18. In those days the house of Juda shall go to the house of Israel,
and they shall come together out of the land of the north to the land
which I gave to your fathers.
3:19. But I said:  How shall I put thee among the children, and give
thee a lovely land, the goodly inheritance of the armies of the
Gentiles?  And I said:  Thou shalt call me father and shalt not cease to
walk after me.
3:20. But as a woman that despiseth her lover, so hath the house of
Israel despised me, saith the Lord.
3:21. A voice was heard in the highways, weeping and howling of the
children of Israel:  because they have made their way wicked, they have
forgotten the Lord their God.
3:22. Return, you rebellious children, and I will heal your rebellions.
Behold we come to thee:  for thou art the Lord our God.
3:23. In very deed the hills were liars, and the multitude of the
mountains:  truly in the Lord our God is the salvation of Israel.
3:24. Confusion hath devoured the labour of our fathers from our youth,
their flocks and their herds, their sons and their daughters.
3:25. We shall sleep in our confusion, and our shame shall cover us,
because we have sinned against the Lord our God, we and our fathers
from our youth even to this day, and we have not hearkened to the voice
of the Lord our God.
Jeremias Chapter 4
And admonition to sincere repentance, and circumcision of the heart,
with threats of grievous punishment to those that persist in sin.
4:1. If thou wilt return, O Israel, saith the Lord, return to me:  if
thou wilt take away thy stumblingblocks out of my sight, thou shalt not
4:2. And thou shalt swear:  As the Lord liveth, in truth, and in
judgment, and in justice:  and the Gentiles shall bless him, and shall
4:3. For thus saith the Lord to the men of Juda and Jerusalem:  Break up
anew your fallow ground, and sow not upon thorns:
4:4. Be circumcised to the Lord, and take away the foreskins of your
hearts, ye men of Juda, and ye inhabitants of Jerusalem:  lest my
indignation come forth like fire, and burn, and there be none that can
quench it because of the wickedness of your thoughts.
4:5. Declare ye in Juda, and make it heard in Jerusalem:  speak, and
sound with the trumpet in the land:  cry aloud, and say:  Assemble
yourselves, and let us go into strong cities.
4:6. Set up the standard in Sion.  Strengthen yourselves, stay not:  for
I bring evil from the north, and great destruction.
4:7. The lion is come up out of his den, and the robber of nations hath
roused himself:  he is come forth out of his place, to make thy land
desolate:  thy cities shall be laid waste, remaining without an
4:8. For this gird yourselves with haircloth, lament and howl:  for the
fierce anger of the Lord is not turned away from us.
4:9. And it shall come to pass in that day, saith the Lord:  That the
heart of the king shall perish, and the heart of the princes:  and the
priests shall be astonished, and the prophets shall be amazed.
4:10. And I said:  Alas, alas, alas, O Lord God, hast thou then deceived
this people and Jerusalem, saying:  You shall have peace:  and behold the
sword reacheth even to the soul?
4:11. At that time it shall be said to this people, and to Jerusalem:  A
burning wind is in the ways that are in the desert of the way of the
daughter of my people, not to fan, nor to cleanse.
4:12. A full wind from these places shall come to me:  and now I will
speak my judgments with them.
4:13. Behold he shall come up as a cloud, and his chariots as a
tempest:  his horses are swifter than eagles:  woe unto us, for we are
4:14. Wash thy heart from wickedness, O Jerusalem, that thou mayst be
saved:  how long shall hurtful thoughts abide in thee?
4:15. For a voice of one declaring from Dan, and giving notice of the
idol from mount Ephraim.
4:16. Say ye to the nations:  Behold it is heard in Jerusalem, that
guards are coming from a far country, and give out their voice against
the cities of Juda.
4:17. They are set round about her, as keepers of fields:  because she
hath provoked me to wrath, saith the Lord.
4:18. Thy ways, and thy devices have brought these things upon thee:
this is thy wickedness, because it is bitter, because it hath touched
4:19. My bowels, my bowels are in part, the senses of my heart are
troubled within me, I will not hold my peace, for my soul hath heard
the sound of the trumpet, the cry of battle.
4:20. Destruction upon destruction is called for, and all the earth is
laid waste:  my tents are destroyed on a sudden, and my pavilions in a
4:21. How long shall I see men fleeing away, how long shall I hear the
sound of the trumpet?
4:22. For my foolish people have not known me:  they are foolish and
senseless children:  they are wise to do evil, but to do good they have
no knowledge.
4:23. I beheld the earth, and lo it was void, and nothing:  and the
heavens, and there was no light in them.
4:24. I looked upon the mountains, and behold they trembled:  and all
the hills were troubled.
4:25. I beheld, and lo there was no man:  and all the birds of the air
4:26. I looked, and behold Carmel was a wilderness:  and all its cities
were destroyed at the presence of the Lord, and at the presence of the
wrath of his indignation.
4:27. For thus saith the Lord:  All the land shall be desolate, but yet
I will not utterly destroy.
4:28. The Earth shall mourn, and the heavens shall lament from above:
because I have spoken, I have purposed, and I have not repented,
neither am I turned away from it.
4:29. At the voice of the horsemen, and the archers, all the city is
fled away:  they have entered into thickets and climbed up the rocks:
all the cities are forsaken, and there dwelleth not a man in them.
4:30. But when thou art spoiled what wilt thou do?  though thou clothest
thyself with scarlet, though thou deckest thee with ornaments of gold,
and paintest thy eyes with stibic stone, thou shalt dress thyself out
in vain:  thy lovers have despised thee, they will seek thy life.
4:31. For I have heard the voice as of a woman in travail, anguishes as
of a woman in labour of a child.  The voice of the daughter of Sion,
dying away, spreading her hands:  Woe is me, for my soul hath fainted
because of them that are slain.
Jeremias Chapter 5
The judgments of God shall fall upon the Jews for their manifold sins.
5:1. Go about through the streets of Jerusalem, and see, and consider,
and seek in the broad places thereof, if you can find a man that
executeth judgment, and seeketh faith:  and I will be merciful unto it.
5:2. And though they say:  The Lord liveth; this also they will swear
5:3. O Lord, thy eyes are upon truth:  thou hast struck them, and they
have not grieved:  thou hast bruised them, and they have refused to
receive correction:  they have made their faces harder than the rock,
and they have refused to return.
5:4. But I said:  Perhaps these are poor and foolish, that know not the
way of the Lord, the judgment of their God.
5:5. I will go therefore to the great men, and will speak to them:  for
they have known the way of the Lord, the judgment of their God:  and
behold these have altogether broken the yoke more, and have burst the
5:6. Wherefore a lion out of the wood hath slain them, a wolf in the
evening hath spoiled them, a leopard watcheth for their cities:  every
one that shall go out thence shall be taken, because their
transgressions are multiplied, their rebellions are strengthened.
5:7. How can I be merciful to thee?  thy children have forsaken me, and
swear by them that are not gods:  I fed them to the full, and they
committed adultery, and rioted in the harlot's house.
5:8. They are become as amorous horses and stallions:  every one neighed
after his neighbour's wife.
5:9. Shall I not visit for these things, saith the Lord?  and shall not
my soul take revenge on such a nation?
5:10. Scale the walls thereof, and throw them down, but do not utterly
destroy:  take away the branches thereof, because they are not the
5:11. For the house of Israel, and the house of Juda have greatly
transgressed against me, saith the Lord.
5:12. They have denied the Lord, and said, It is not he:  and the evil
shall not come upon us:  we shall not see the sword and famine.
5:13. The prophets have spoken in the wind, and there was no word of
God in them:  these things therefore shall befall them.
5:14. Thus saith the Lord the God of hosts:  because you have spoken
this word, behold I will make my words in thy mouth as fire, and this
people as wood, and it shall devour them.
5:15. Behold I will bring upon you a nation from afar, O house of
Israel, saith the Lord:  a strong nation, an ancient nation, a nation
whose language thou shalt not know, nor understand what they say.
5:16. Their quiver is as an open sepulchre, they are all valiant.
5:17. And they shall eat up thy corn, and thy bread:  they shall devour
thy sons, and thy daughters:  they shall eat up thy flocks, and thy
herds:  they shall eat thy vineyards, and thy figs:  and with the sword
they shall destroy thy strong cities, wherein thou trustest.
5:18. Nevertheless in those days, saith the Lord, I will not bring you
to utter destruction.
5:19. And if you shall say:  Why hath the Lord our God done all these
things to us?  thou shalt say to them:  As you have forsaken me, and
served a strange god in your own land, so shall you serve strangers in
a land that is not your own.
5:20. Declare ye this to the house of Jacob, and publish it in Juda,
5:21. Hear, O foolish people, and without understanding:  who have eyes,
and see not:  and ears, and hear not.
5:22. Will not you then fear me, saith the Lord:  and will you not
repent at my presence?  I have set the sand a bound for the sea, an
everlasting ordinance, which it shall not pass over:  and the waves
thereof shall toss themselves, and shall not prevail:  they shall swell,
and shall not pass over it.
5:23. But the heart of this people is become hard of belief and
provoking, they are revolted and gone away.
5:24. And they have not said in their heart:  Let us fear the Lord our
God, who giveth us the early and the latter rain in due season:  who
preserveth for us the fulness of the yearly harvest.
5:25. Your iniquities have turned these things away, and your sins have
withholden good things from you.
5:26. For among my people are found wicked men, that lie in wait as
fowlers, setting snares and traps to catch men.
5:27. As a net is full of birds, so their houses are full of deceit:
therefore are they become great and enriched.
5:28. They are grown gross and fat:  and have most wickedly transgressed
my words.  They have not judged the cause of the widow, they have not
managed the cause of the fatherless, and they have not judged the
judgment of the poor.
5:29. Shall I not visit for these things, saith the Lord?  or shall not
my soul take revenge on such a nation?
5:30. Astonishing and wonderful things have been done in the land.
5:31. The prophets prophesied falsehood, and the priests clapped their
hands:  and my people loved such things:  what then shall be done in the
end thereof?
Jeremias Chapter 6
The evils that threaten Jerusalem.  She is invited to return, and walk
in the good way, and not to rely on sacrifices without obedience.
6:1. Strengthen yourselves, ye sons of Benjamin, in the midst of
Jerusalem, and sound the trumpet in Thecua, and set up the standard
over Bethacarem:  for evil is seen out of the north, and a great
destruction.
6:2. I have likened the daughter of Sion to a beautiful and delicate
6:3. The shepherds shall come to her with their flocks:  they have
pitched their tents against her round about:  every one shall feed them
that are under his hand.
6:4. Prepare ye war against her:  arise, and let us go up at midday:  woe
unto us, for the day is declined, for the shadows of the evening are
grown longer.
6:5. Arise, and let us go up in the night, and destroy her houses.
6:6. For thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Hew down her trees, cast up a
trench about Jerusalem:  this is the city to be visited, all oppression
is in the midst of her.
6:7. As a cistern maketh its water cold, so hath she made her
wickedness cold:  violence and spoil shall be heard in her, infirmity
and stripes are continually before me.
6:8. Be thou instructed, O Jerusalem, lest my soul depart from thee,
lest I make thee desolate, a land uninhabited.
6:9. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  They shall gather the remains of
Israel, as in a vine, even to one cluster:  turn back thy hand, as a
grapegatherer into the basket.
6:10. To whom shall I speak?  and to whom shall I testify, that he may
hear?  behold, their ears are uncircumcised, and they cannot hear:
behold the word of the Lord is become unto them a reproach:  and they
will not receive it.
6:11. Therefore am I full of the fury of the Lord, I am weary with
holding in:  pour it out upon the child abroad, and upon the council of
the young men together:  for man and woman shall be taken, the ancient
and he that is full of days.
6:12. And their houses shall be turned over to others, with their lands
and their wives together:  for I will stretch forth my hand upon the
inhabitants of the land, saith the Lord.
6:13. For from the least of them even to the greatest, all are given to
covetousness:  and from the prophet even to the priest, all are guilty
6:14. And they healed the breach of the daughter of my people
disgracefully, saying:  Peace, peace:  and there was no peace.
6:15. They were confounded, because they committed abomination:  yea,
rather they were not confounded with confusion, and they knew not how
to blush:  wherefore they shall fall among them that fall:  in the time
of their visitation they shall fall down, saith the Lord.
6:16. Thus saith the Lord:  Stand ye on the ways, and see, and ask for
the old paths, which is the good way, and walk ye in it:  and you shall
find refreshment for your souls.  And they said:  We will not walk.
6:17. And I appointed watchmen over you, saying:  Hearken ye to the
sound of the trumpet.  And they said:  We will not hearken.
6:18. Therefore hear, ye nations, and know, O congregation, what great
things I will do to them.
6:19. Hear, O earth:  Behold I will bring evils upon this people, the
fruits of their own thoughts:  because they have not heard my words, and
they have cast away my law.
6:20. To what purpose do you bring me frankincense from Saba, and the
sweet smelling cane from a far country?  your holocausts are not
acceptable, nor are your sacrifices pleasing to me.
6:21. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will bring destruction
upon this people, by which fathers and sons together shall fall,
neighbour and kinsman shall perish.
6:22. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold a people cometh from the land of the
north, and a great nation shall rise up from the ends of the earth.
6:23. They shall lay hold on arrow and shield:  they are cruel, and will
have no mercy.  Their voice shall roar like the sea:  and they shall
mount upon horses, prepared as men for war, against thee, O daughter of
6:24. We have heard the fame thereof, our hands grow feeble:  anguish
hath taken hold of us, as a woman in labour.
6:25. Go not out into the fields, nor walk in the highway:  for the
sword of the enemy, and fear is on every side.
6:26. Gird thee with sackcloth, O daughter of my people, and sprinkle
thee with ashes:  make thee mourning as for an only son, a bitter
lamentation, because the destroyer shall suddenly come upon us.
6:27. I have set thee for a strong trier among my people:  and thou
shalt know, and prove their way.
6:28. All these princes go out of the way, they walk deceitfully, they
are brass and iron:  they are all corrupted.
6:29. The bellows have failed, the lead is consumed in the fire, the
founder hath melted in vain:  for their wicked deeds are not consumed.
6:30. Call them reprobate silver, for the Lord hath rejected them.
Jeremias Chapter 7
The temple of God shall not protect a sinful people, without a sincere
conversion.  The Lord will not receive the prayers of the prophet for
them:  because they are obstinate in their sins.
7:1. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord, saying:
7:2. Stand in the gate of the house of the Lord, and proclaim there
this word, and say:  Hear ye the word of the Lord, all ye men of Juda,
that enter in at these gates, to adore the Lord.
7:3. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Make your ways and
your doings good:  and I will dwell with you in this place.
7:4. Trust not in lying words, saying:  The temple of the Lord, the
temple of the Lord, it is the temple of the Lord.
7:5. For if you will order well your ways, and your doings:  if you will
execute judgment between a man and his neighbour,
7:6. If you oppress not the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow,
and shed not innocent blood in this place, and walk not after strange
gods to your own hurt,
7:7. I will dwell with you in this place:  in the land, which I gave to
your fathers from the beginning and for evermore.
7:8. Behold you put your trust in lying words, which shall not profit
7:9. To steal, to murder, to commit adultery, to swear falsely, to
offer to Baalim, and to go after strange gods, which you know not.
7:10. And you have come, and stood before me in this house, in which my
name is called upon, and have said:  We are delivered, because we have
done all these abominations.
7:11. Is this house then, in which my name hath been called upon, in
your eyes become a den of robbers?  I, I am he:  I have seen it, saith
7:12. Go ye to my place in Silo, where my name dwelt from the
beginning:  and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people
7:13. And now, because you have done all these works, saith the Lord:
and I have spoken to you rising up early, and speaking, and you have
not heard:  and I have called you, and you have not answered:
7:14. I will do to this house, in which my name is called upon, and in
which you trust, and to the place which I have given you and your
fathers, as I did to Silo.
7:15. And I will cast you away from before my face, as I have cast away
all your brethren, the whole seed of Ephraim.
7:16. Therefore do not thou pray for this people, nor take to thee
praise and supplication for them:  and do not withstand me:  for I will
not hear thee.
7:17. Seest thou not what they do in the cities of Juda, and in the
streets of Jerusalem?
7:18. The children gather wood, and the fathers kindle the fire, and
the women knead the dough, to make cakes to the queen of heaven, and to
offer libations to strange gods, and to provoke me to anger.
Queen of heaven. . .That is, the moon, which they worshipped under that
7:19. Do they provoke me to anger, saith the Lord?  is it not
themselves, to the confusion of their own countenance?
7:20. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold my wrath and my
indignation is enkindled against this place, upon men and upon beasts,
and upon the trees of the field, and upon the fruits of the land, and
it shall burn, and shall not be quenched.
7:21. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Add your burnt
offerings to your sacrifices, and eat ye the flesh.
7:22. For I spoke not to your fathers, and I commanded them not, in the
day that I brought them out of the land of Egypt, concerning the matter
of burnt offerings and sacrifices.
I commanded them not. . .Viz., such sacrifices as the Jews at this time
offered, without obedience; which was the thing principally commanded:
so that in comparison with it, the offering of the holocausts and
sacrifices was of small account.
7:23. But this thing I commanded them, saying:  Hearken to my voice, and
I will be your God, and you shall be my people:  and walk ye in all the
way that I have commanded you, that it may be well with you.
7:24. But they hearkened not, nor inclined their ear:  but walked in
their own will, and in the perversity of their wicked heart:  and went
backward and not forward,
7:25. From the day that their fathers came out of the land of Egypt,
even to this day.  And I have sent to you all my servants the prophets,
from day to day, rising up early and sending.
7:26. And they have not hearkened to me:  nor inclined their ear:  but
have hardened their neck, and have done worse than their fathers.
7:27. And thou shalt speak to them all these words, but they will not
hearken to thee:  and thou shalt call them, but they will not answer
7:28. And thou shalt say to them:  This is a nation which hath not
hearkened to the voice of the Lord their God, nor received instruction:
faith is lost, and is taken away out of their mouth.
7:29. Cut off thy hair, and cast it away:  and take up a lamentation on
high:  for the Lord hath rejected, and forsaken the generation of his
7:30. Because the children of Juda have done evil in my eyes, saith the
Lord.  They have set their abominations in the house in which my name is
called upon, to pollute it;
7:31. And they have built the high places of Topheth, which is in the
valley of the son of Ennom, to burn their sons, and their daughters in
the fire:  which I commanded not, nor thought on in my heart.
7:32. Therefore behold the days shall come, saith the Lord, and it
shall no more be called Topheth, nor the valley of the son of Ennom:
but the valley of slaughter:  and they shall bury in Topheth, because
there is no place.
7:33. And the carcasses of this people shall be meat for the fowls of
the air, and for the beasts of the earth, and there shall be none to
drive them away.
7:34. And I will cause to cease out of the cities of Juda, and out of
the streets of Jerusalem, the voice of joy, and the voice of gladness,
the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride:  for the land
shall be desolate.
Jeremias Chapter 8
Other evils that shall fall upon the Jews for their impenitence.
8:1. At that time, saith the Lord, they shall cast out the bones of the
kings of Juda, and the bones of the princes thereof, and the bones of
the priests, and the bones of the prophets, and the bones of the
inhabitants of Jerusalem, out of their graves.
8:2. And they shall spread them abroad to the sun, and the moon, and
all the host of heaven, whom they have loved, and whom they have
served, and after whom have walked, and whom they have sought, and
adored:  they shall not be gathered, and they shall not be buried:  they
shall be as dung upon the face of the earth.
8:3. And death shall be chosen rather than life by all that shall
remain of this wicked kindred in all places, which are left, to which I
have cast them out, saith the Lord of hosts.
8:4. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord:  Shall not he that
falleth, rise again?  and he that is turned away, shall he not turn
8:5. Why then is this people in Jerusalem turned away with a stubborn
revolting?  they have laid hold on lying, and have refused to return.
8:6. I attended, and hearkened; no man speaketh what is good, there is
none that doth penance for his sin, saying:  What have I done?  They are
all turned to their own course, as a horse rushing to the battle.
8:7. The kite in the air hath known her time:  the turtle, and the
swallow, and the stork have observed the time of their coming:  but my
people have not known the judgment of the Lord.
8:8. How do you say:  We are wise, and the law of the Lord is with us?
Indeed the lying pens of the scribes hath wrought falsehood.
8:9. The wise men are confounded, they are dismayed, and taken:  for
they have cast away the word of the Lord, and there is no wisdom in
8:10. Therefore will I give their women to strangers, their fields to
others for an inheritance:  because from the least even to the greatest
all follow covetousness:  from the prophet even to the priest all deal
deceitfully.
8:11. And they healed the breach of the daughter of my people
disgracefully, saying:  Peace, peace:  when there was no peace.
8:12. They are confounded, because they have committed abomination:  yea
rather they are not confounded with confusion, and they have not known
how to blush:  therefore shall they fall among them that fall; in the
time of their visitation they shall fall, saith the Lord.
8:13. Gathering I will gather them together, saith the Lord, there is
no grape on the vines, and there are no figs on the fig tree, the leaf
is fallen:  and I have given them the things that are passed away.
8:14. Why do we sit still?  assemble yourselves, and let us enter into
the fenced city, and let us be silent there:  for the Lord our God hath
put us to silence, and hath given us water of gall to drink:  for we
have sinned against the Lord.
8:15. We looked for peace and no good came:  for a time of healing, and
behold fear.
8:16. The snorting of his horses was heard from Dan, all the land was
moved at the sound of the neighing of his warriors:  and they came and
devoured the land, and all that was in it:  the city and its
inhabitants.
8:17. For behold I will send among you serpents, basilisks, against
which there is no charm:  and they shall bite you, saith the Lord.
8:18. My sorrow is above sorrow, my heart mourneth within me.
8:19. Behold the voice of the daughter of my people from a far country:
Is not the Lord in Sion, or is not her king in her?  why then have they
provoked me to wrath with their idols, and strange vanities?
8:20. The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.
8:21. For the affliction of the daughter of my people I am afflicted,
and made sorrowful, astonishment hath taken hold on me.
8:22. Is there no balm in Galaad?  or is there no physician there?  Why
then is not the wound of the daughter of my people closed?
Jeremias Chapter 9
The prophet laments the miseries of his people:  and their sins, which
are the cause of them.  He exhorts them to repentance.
9:1. Who will give water to my head, and a fountain of tears to my
eyes?  and I will weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my
9:2. Who will give me in the wilderness a lodging place of wayfaring
men, and I will leave my people, and depart from them?  because they are
all adulterers, an assembly of transgressors.
9:3. And they have bent their tongue, as a bow, for lies, and not for
truth:  they have strengthened themselves upon the earth, for they have
proceeded from evil to evil, and me they have not known, saith the
9:4. Let every man take heed of his neighbour, and let him not trust in
any brother of his:  for every brother will utterly supplant, and every
friend will walk deceitfully.
9:5. And a man shall mock his brother, and they will not speak the
truth:  for they have taught their tongue to speak lies:  they have
laboured to commit iniquity.
9:6. Thy habitation is in the midst of deceit:  through deceit they have
refused to know me, saith the Lord.
9:7. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Behold I will melt, and
try them:  for what else shall I do before the daughter of my people?
9:8. Their tongue is a piercing arrow, it hath spoken deceit:  with his
mouth one speaketh peace with his friend, and secretly he lieth in wait
9:9. Shall I not visit them for these things, saith the Lord?  or shall
not my soul be revenged on such a nation?
9:10. For the mountains I will take up weeping and lamentation, and for
the beautiful places of the desert, mourning:  because they are burnt
up, for that there is not a man that passeth through them:  and they
have not heard the voice of the owner:  from the fowl of the air to the
beasts they are gone away and departed.
9:11. And I will make Jerusalem to be heaps of sand, and dens of
dragons:  and I will make the cities of Juda desolate, for want of an
9:12. Who is the wise man, that may understand this, and to whom the
word of the mouth of the Lord may come that he may declare this, why
the land hath perished, and is burnt up like a wilderness, which none
passeth through?
9:13. And the Lord said:  Because they have forsaken my law, which I
gave them, and have not heard my voice, and have not walked in it.
9:14. But they have gone after the perverseness of their own heart, and
after Baalim, which their fathers taught them.
9:15. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Behold
I will feed this people with wormwood, and give them water of gall to
9:16. And I will scatter them among the nations, which they and their
fathers have not known:  and I will send the sword after them till they
be consumed.
9:17. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Consider ye, and
call for the mourning women, and let them come:  and send to them that
are wise women, and let them make haste:
9:18. Let them hasten and take up a lamentation for us:  let our eyes
shed tears, and our eyelids run down with waters.
9:19. For a voice of wailing is heard out of Sion:  How are we wasted
and greatly confounded?  because we have left the land, because our
dwellings are cast down.
9:20. Hear therefore, ye women, the word of the Lord:  and let your ears
receive the word of his mouth:  and teach your daughters wailing:  and
every one her neighbour mourning.
9:21. For death is come up through our windows, it is entered into our
houses to destroy the children from without, the young men from the
9:22. Speak:  Thus saith the Lord:  Even the carcass of man shall fall as
dung upon the face of the country, and as grass behind the back of the
mower, and there is none to gather it.
9:23. Thus saith the Lord:  Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom,
and let not the strong man glory in his strength, and let not the rich
man glory in his riches:
9:24. But let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth
and knoweth me, for I am the Lord that exercise mercy, and judgment,
and justice in the earth:  for these things please me, saith the Lord.
9:25. Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, and I will visit upon
every one that hath the foreskin circumcised.
9:26. Upon Egypt, and upon Juda, and upon Edom, and upon the children
of Ammon, and upon Moab, and upon all that have their hair polled
round, that dwell in the desert:  for all the nations are uncircumcised
in the flesh, but all the house of Israel are uncircumcised in the
Jeremias Chapter 10
Neither stars nor idols are to be feared, but the great Creator of all
things.  The chastisement of Jerusalem for her sins.
10:1. Hear ye the word which the Lord hath spoken concerning you, O
house of Israel.
10:2. Thus saith the Lord:  Learn not according to the ways of the
Gentiles:  and be not afraid of the signs of heaven, which the heathens
10:3. For the laws of the people are vain:  for the works of the hand of
the workman hath cut a tree out of the forest with an axe.
10:4. He hath decked it with silver and gold:  he hath put it together
with nails and hammers, that it may not fall asunder.
10:5. They are framed after the likeness of a palm tree, and shall not
speak:  they must be carried to be removed, because they cannot go.
Therefore fear them not, for they can neither do evil nor good.
10:6. There is none like to thee, O Lord:  thou art great, and great is
thy name in might.
10:7. Who shall not fear thee, O king of nations?  for thine is the
glory:  among all the wise men of the nations, and in all their kingdoms
there is none like unto thee.
10:8. They shall be all proved together to be senseless and foolish:
the doctrine of their vanity is wood.
10:9. Silver spread into plates is brought from Tharsis, and gold from
Ophaz:  the work of the artificer, and of the hand of the coppersmith:
violet and purple is their clothing:  all these things are the work of
10:10. But the Lord is the true God:  he is the living God, and the
everlasting king:  at his wrath the earth shall tremble, and the nations
shall not be able to abide his threatening.
10:11. Thus then shall you say to them:  The gods that have not made
heaven and earth, let them perish from the earth, and from among those
places that are under heaven.
10:12. He that maketh the earth by his power, that prepareth the world
by his wisdom, and stretcheth out the heavens by his knowledge.
10:13. At his voice he giveth a multitude of waters in the heaven, and
lifteth up the clouds from the ends of the earth:  he maketh lightnings
for rain, and bringeth forth the wind out of his treasures.
10:14. Every man is become a fool for knowledge, every artist is
confounded in his graven idol:  for what he hath cast is false, and
there is no spirit in them.
10:15. They are vain things, and a ridiculous work:  in the time of
their visitation they shall perish.
10:16. The portion of Jacob is not like these:  for it is he who formed
all things:  and Israel is the rod of his inheritance:  the Lord of hosts
is his name.
10:17. Gather up thy shame out of the land, thou that dwellest in a
10:18. For thus saith he Lord:  Behold I will cast away far off the
inhabitants of the land at this time:  and I will afflict them, so that
they may be found.
10:19. Woe is me for my destruction, my wound is very grievous.  But I
said:  Truly this is my own evil, and I will bear it.
10:20. My tabernacle is laid waste, all my cords are broken:  my
children are gone out from me, and they are not:  there is none to
stretch forth my tent any more, and to set up my curtains.
10:21. Because the pastors have done foolishly, and have not sought the
Lord:  therefore have they not understood, and all their flock is
10:22. Behold the sound of a noise cometh, a great commotion out of the
land of the north:  to make the cities of Juda a desert, and a dwelling
for dragons.
10:23. I know, O Lord, that the way of a man is not his:  neither is it
in a man to walk, and to direct his steps.
The way of a man is not his. . .The meaning is, that notwithstanding
man's free will, yet he can do no good without God's help, nor evil
without his permission.  So that, in the present case, all the evils
which Nabuchodonosor was about to bring upon Jerusalem, could not have
come but by the will of God.
10:24. Correct me, O Lord, but yet with judgment:  and not in thy fury,
lest thou bring me to nothing.
10:25. Pour out thy indignation upon the nations that have not known
thee, and upon the provinces that have not called upon thy name:
because they have eaten up Jacob, and devoured him, and consumed him,
and have destroyed his glory.
Jeremias Chapter 11
The prophet proclaims the covenant of God:  and denounces evils to the
obstinate transgressors of it.  The conspiracy of the Jews against him,
a figure of their conspiracy against Christ.
11:1. The word that came from the Lord to Jeremias, saying:
11:2. Hear ye the words of this covenant, and speak to the men of Juda,
and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem,
11:3. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord the God of
Israel:  Cursed is the man that shall not hearken to the words of this
11:4. Which I commanded your fathers in the day that I brought them out
of the land of Egypt, from the iron furnace, saying:  Hear ye my voice,
and do all things that I command you:  and you shall be my people, and I
will be your God:
11:5. That I may accomplish the oath which I swore to your fathers, to
give them a land flowing with milk and honey, as it is this day.  And I
answered and said:  Amen, O Lord.
11:6. And the Lord said to me:  Proclaim aloud all these words in the
cities of Juda, and in the streets of Jerusalem, saying:  Hear ye the
words of the covenant, and do them:
11:7. For protesting I conjured your fathers in the day that I brought
them out of the land of Egypt even to this day:  rising early I conjured
them, and said:  Hearken ye to my voice:
11:8. And they obeyed not, nor inclined their ear:  but walked every one
in the perverseness of his own wicked heart:  and I brought upon them
all the words of this covenant, which I commanded them to do, but they
did them not.
11:9. And the Lord said to me:  A conspiracy is found among the men of
Juda, and among the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
11:10. They are returned to the former iniquities of their fathers, who
refused to hear my words:  so these likewise have gone after strange
gods, to serve them:  the house of Israel, and the house of Juda have
made void my covenant, which I made with their fathers.
11:11. Wherefore thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will bring in evils upon
them, which they shall not be able to escape:  and they shall cry to me,
and I will not hearken to them.
11:12. And the cities of Juda, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem shall
go, and cry to the gods to whom they offer sacrifice, and they shall
not save them in the time of their affliction.
11:13. For according to the number of thy cities were thy gods, O Juda:
and according to the number of the streets of Jerusalem thou hast set
up altars of confusion, altars to offer sacrifice to Baalim.
11:14. Therefore do not thou pray for this people, and do not take up
praise and prayer for them:  for I will not hear them in the time of
their cry to me, in the time of their affliction.
11:15. What is the meaning that my beloved hath wrought much wickedness
in my house?  shall the holy flesh take away from thee thy crimes, in
which thou hast boasted?
11:16. The Lord called thy name, a plentiful olive tree, fair,
fruitful, and beautiful:  at the noise of a word, a great fire was
kindled in it, and the branches thereof are burnt.
11:17. And the Lord of hosts that planted thee, hath pronounced evil
against thee:  for the evils of the house of Israel, and of the house of
Juda, which they have done to themselves, to provoke me, offering
sacrifice to Baalim.
11:18. But thou, O Lord, hast shewn me, and I have known:  then thou
shewedst me their doings.
11:19. And I was as a meek lamb, that is carried to be a victim:  and I
knew not that they had devised counsels against me, saying:  Let us put
wood on his bread, and cut him off from the land of the living, and let
his name be remembered no more.
11:20. But thou, O Lord of Sabaoth, who judgest justly, and triest the
reins and the hearts, let me see thy revenge on them:  for to thee have
I revealed my cause.
Sabaoth. . .That is, of hosts or armies, a name frequently given to God
in the scriptures.--Ibid.  Thy revenge. . .This was rather a prediction
of what was to happen, with an approbation of the divine justice, than an
imprecation.
11:21. Therefore thus saith the Lord to the men of Anathoth, who seek
thy life, and say:  Thou shalt not prophesy in the name of the Lord, and
thou shalt not die in our hands.
11:22. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Behold I will visit upon
them:  their young men shall die by the sword, their sons and their
daughters shall die by famine.
11:23. And there shall be no remains of them:  for I will bring in evil
upon the men of Anathoth, the year of their visitation.
Jeremias Chapter 12
The prosperity of the wicked shall be but for a short time.  The
desolation of the Jews for their sins.  Their return from their
12:1. Thou indeed, O Lord, art just, if I plead with thee, but yet I
will speak what is just to thee:  Why doth the way of the wicked
prosper:  why is it well with all them that transgress, and do wickedly?
12:2. Thou hast planted them, and they have taken root:  they prosper
and bring forth fruit:  thou art near in their mouth, and far from their
12:3. And thou, O Lord, hast known me, thou hast seen me, and proved my
heart with thee:  gather them together as for the day of slaughter.
12:4. How long shall the land mourn, and the herb of every field wither
for the wickedness of them that dwell therein?  The beasts and the birds
are consumed:  because they have said:  He shall not see our last end.
12:5. If thou hast been wearied with running with footmen, how canst
thou contend with horses?  and if thou hast been secure in a land of
peace, what wilt thou do in the swelling of the Jordan?
12:6. For even thy brethren, and the house of thy father, even they
have fought against thee, and have cried after thee with full voice:
believe them not when they speak good things to thee.
12:7. I have forsaken my house, I have left my inheritance:  I have
given my dear soul into the hand of her enemies.
12:8. My inheritance is become to me as a lion in the wood:  it hath
cried out against me, therefore have I hated it.
12:9. Is my inheritance to me as a speckled bird?  is it as a bird dyed
throughout?  come ye, assemble yourselves, all ye beasts of the earth,
make haste to devour.
12:10. Many pastors have destroyed my vineyard, they have trodden my
portion under foot:  they have changed my delightful portion into a
desolate wilderness.
12:11. They have laid it waste, and it hath mourned for me.  With
desolation is all the land made desolate; because there is none that
considereth in the heart.
12:12. The spoilers are come upon all the ways of the wilderness, for
the sword of the Lord shall devour from one end of the land to the
other end thereof:  there is no peace for all flesh.
12:13. They have sown wheat, and reaped thorns:  they have received an
inheritance, and it shall not profit them:  you shall be ashamed of your
fruits, because of the fierce wrath of the Lord.
12:14. Thus saith the Lord against all wicked neighbours, that touch
the inheritance that I have shared out to my people Israel:  Behold I
will pluck them out of their land, and I will pluck the house of Juda
out of the midst of them.
12:15. And when I shall have plucked them out, I will return, and have
mercy on them:  and will bring them back, every man to his inheritance,
and every man into his land.
12:16. And it shall come to pass, if they will be taught, and will
learn the ways of my people, to swear by my name:  The Lord liveth, as
they have taught my people to swear by Baal:  that they shall be built
up in the midst of my people.
12:17. But if they will not hear, I will utterly pluck out and destroy
that nation, saith the Lord.
Jeremias Chapter 13
Under the figure of a linen girdle is foretold the destruction of the
Jews.  Their obstinacy in sin brings all miseries upon them.
13:1. Thus saith the Lord to me:  Go, and get thee a linen girdle, and
thou shalt put it about thy loins, and shalt not put it into water.
13:2. And I got a girdle according to the word of the Lord, and put it
about my loins.
13:3. And the word of the Lord came to me the second time, saying:
13:4. Take the girdle which thou hast got, which is about thy loins,
and arise, go to the Euphrates, and hide it there in a hole of the
13:5. And I went, and hid it by the Euphrates, as the Lord had
commanded me.
13:6. And it came to pass after many days, that the Lord said to me:
Arise, go to the Euphrates, and take from thence the girdle, which I
commanded thee to hide there.
13:7. And I went to the Euphrates, and digged, and took the girdle out
of the place where I had hid it and behold the girdle was rotten, so
that it was fit for no use.
13:8. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
13:9. Thus saith the Lord:  After this manner will I make the pride of
Juda, and the great pride of Jerusalem to rot.
13:10. This wicked people, that will not hear my words, and that walk
in the perverseness of their heart, and have gone after strange gods to
serve them, and to adore them:  and they shall be as this girdle ,which
is fit for no use.
13:11. For as the girdle sticketh close to the loins of a man, so have
I brought close to me all the house of Israel, and all the house of
Juda, saith the Lord:  that they might be my people, and for a name, and
for a praise, and for a glory:  but they would not hear.
13:12. Thou shalt speak therefore to them this word:  Thus saith the
Lord the God of Israel:  Every bottle shall be filled with wine.  And
they shall say to thee:  Do we not know that every bottle shall be
filled with wine?
13:13. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will
fill all the inhabitants of this land, and the kings of the race of
David that sit upon his throne, and the priests, and the prophets, and
all the inhabitants of Jerusalem, with drunkenness.
13:14. And I will scatter them every man from his brother, and fathers
and sons in like manner, saith the Lord:  I will not spare, and I will
not pardon:  nor will I have mercy, but to destroy them.
13:15. Hear ye, and give ear:  Be not proud, for the Lord hath spoken.
13:16. Give ye glory to the Lord your God, before it be dark, and
before your feet stumble upon the dark mountains:  you shall look for
light, and he will turn it into the shadow of death, and into darkness.
13:17. But if you will not hear this, my soul shall weep in secret for
your pride:  weeping it shall weep, and my eyes shall run down with
tears, because the flock of the Lord is carried away captive.
13:18. Say to the king, and to the queen:  Humble yourselves, sit down:
for the crown of your glory is come down from your head.
13:19. The cities of the south are shut up, and there is none to open
them:  all Juda is carried away captive with an entire captivity.
13:20. Lift up your eyes, and see, you that come from the north:  where
is the flock that is given thee, thy beautiful cattle?
13:21. What wilt thou say when he shall visit thee?  for thou hast
taught them against thee, and instructed them against thy own head:
shall not sorrows lay hold on thee, as a woman in labour?
13:22. And if thou shalt say in thy heart:  Why are these things come
upon me?  For the greatness of thy iniquity, thy nakedness is
discovered, the soles of thy feet are defiled.
13:23. If the Ethiopian can change his skin, or the leopard his spots:
you also may do well, when you have learned evil.
13:24. And I will scatter them as stubble, which is carried away by the
wind in the desert.
13:25. This is thy lot, and the portion of thy measure from me, saith
the Lord, because thou hast forgotten me, and hast trusted in
13:26. Wherefore I have also bared thy thighs against thy face, and thy
shame hath appeared.
13:27. I have seen thy adulteries, and thy neighing, the wickedness of
thy fornication:  and thy abominations, upon the hills in the field.  Woe
to thee, Jerusalem, wilt thou not be made clean after me:  how long yet?
Jeremias Chapter 14
A grievous famine:  and the prophet's prayer on that occasion.  Evils
denounced to false prophets.  The prophet mourns for his people.
14:1. The word of the Lord that came to Jeremias concerning the words
of the drought.
14:2. Judea hath mourned, and the gates thereof are fallen, and are
become obscure on the ground, and the cry of Jerusalem is gone up.
14:3. The great ones sent their inferiors to the water:  they came to
draw, they found no water, they carried back their vessels empty:  they
were confounded and afflicted, and covered their heads.
14:4. For the destruction of the land, because there came no rain upon
the earth, the husbandman were confounded, they covered their heads.
14:5. Yea, the hind also brought forth in the field, and left it,
because there was no grass.
14:6. And the wild asses stood upon the rocks, they snuffed up the wind
like dragons, their eyes failed, because there was no grass.
14:7. If our iniquities have testified against us, O Lord, do thou it
for thy name's sake, for our rebellions are many, we have sinned
against thee.
14:8. O expectation of Israel, the Saviour thereof in time of trouble:
why wilt thou be as a stranger in the land, and as a wayfaring man
turning in to lodge?
14:9. Why wilt thou be as a wandering man, as a mighty man that cannot
save?  but thou, O Lord, art among us, and thy name is called upon by
us, forsake us not.
14:10. Thus saith the Lord to this people, that have loved to move
their feet, and have not rested, and have not pleased the Lord:  He will
now remember their iniquities, and visit their sins.
14:11. And the Lord said to me:  Pray not for this people for their
14:12. When they fast I will not hear their prayers:  and if they offer
holocausts and victims, I will not receive them:  for I will consume
them by the sword, and by famine, and by the pestilence.
14:13. And I said:  Ah, ah, ah, O Lord God, the prophets say to them:
You shall not see the sword, and there shall be no famine among you,
but he will give you true peace in this place.
14:14. And the Lord said to me:  The prophets prophesy falsely in my
name:  I sent them not, neither have I commanded them, nor have I spoken
to them:  they prophesy unto you a lying vision, and divination and
deceit, and the seduction of their own heart.
14:15. Therefore thus saith the Lord concerning the prophets that
prophesy in my name, whom I did not send, that say:  Sword and famine
shall not be in this land:  By sword and famine shall those prophets be
14:16. And the people to whom they prophesy, shall be cast out in the
streets of Jerusalem because of the famine and the sword, and there
shall be none to bury them:  they and their wives, their sons and their
daughters, and I will pour out their own wickedness upon them.
14:17. And thou shalt speak this word to them:  Let my eyes shed down
tears night and day, and let them not cease, because the virgin
daughter of my people is afflicted with a great affliction, with an
exceeding grievous evil.
14:18. If I go forth into the fields, behold the slain with the sword:
and if I enter into the city, behold them that are consumed with
famine.  The prophet also and the priest are gone into a land which they
14:19. Hast thou utterly cast away Juda, or hath thy soul abhorred
Sion?  why then hast thou struck us, so that there is no healing for us?
we have looked for peace, and there is no good:  and for the time of
healing, and behold trouble.
14:20. We acknowledge, O Lord, our wickedness, the iniquities of our
fathers, because we have sinned against thee.
14:21. Give us not to be a reproach, for thy name's sake, and do not
disgrace in us the throne of thy glory:  remember, break not thy
covenant with us.
14:22. Are there any among the graven things of the Gentiles that can
send rain?  or can the heavens give showers?  art not thou the Lord our
God, whom we have looked for?  for thou hast made all these things.
Jeremias Chapter 15
God is determined to punish the Jews for their sins.  The prophet's
complaint, and God's promise to him.
15:1. And the Lord said to me:  If Moses and Samuel shall stand before
me, my soul is not towards this people:  cast them out from my sight,
and let them go forth.
15:2. And if they shall say unto thee:  Whither shall we go forth?  thou
shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord:  Such as are for death, to
death:  and such as are for the sword, to the sword:  and such as are for
famine, to famine:  and such as are for captivity, to captivity.
15:3. And I will visit them with four kinds, saith the Lord:  The sword
to kill, and the dogs to tear, and the fowls of the air, and the beasts
of the earth, to devour and to destroy.
15:4. And I will give them up to the rage of all the kingdoms of the
earth:  because of Manasses the son of Ezechias the king of Juda, for
all that he did in Jerusalem.
15:5. For who shall have pity on thee, O Jerusalem?  or who shall bemoan
thee?  or who shall go to pray for thy peace?
15:6. Thou hast forsaken me, saith the Lord, thou art gone backward:
and I will stretch out my hand against thee, and I will destroy thee:  I
am weary of entreating thee.
15:7. And I will scatter them with a fan in the gates of the land:  I
have killed and destroyed my people, and yet they are not returned from
15:8. Their widows are multiplied unto me above the sand of the sea:  I
have brought upon them against the mother of the young man a spoiler at
noonday:  I have cast a terror on a sudden upon the cities.
15:9. She that hath borne seven is become weak, her soul hath fainted
away:  her sun is gone down, while it was yet day:  she is confounded,
and ashamed:  and the residue of them I will give up to the sword in the
sight of their enemies, saith the Lord.
15:10. Woe is me, my mother:  why hast thou borne me a man of strife, a
man of contention to all the earth?  I have not lent on usury, neither
hath any man lent to me on usury:  yet all curse me.
15:11. The Lord saith to me:  Assuredly it shall be well with thy
remnant, assuredly I shall help thee in the time of affliction, and in
the time of tribulation against the enemy.
15:12. Shall iron be allied with the iron from the north, and the
Shall iron be allied, etc. . .Shall the iron, that is, the strength of
Juda, stand against the stronger iron of the north, that is, of
Babylon:  or enter into an alliance upon equal footing with it?  No
certainly:  but it must be broken by it.
15:13. Thy riches and thy treasures I will give unto spoil for nothing,
because of all thy sins, even in all thy borders.
15:14. And I will bring thy enemies out of a land, which thou knowest
not:  for a fire is kindled in my rage, it shall burn upon you.
15:15. O Lord, thou knowest, remember me, and visit me, and defend me
from them that persecute me, do not defend me in thy patience:  know
that for thy sake I have suffered reproach.
Do not defend me in thy patience. . .That is, let not thy patience and
longsuffering, which thou usest towards sinners, keep thee from making
haste to my assistance.
15:16. Thy words were found, and I did eat them, and thy word was to me
a joy and gladness of my heart:  for thy name is called upon me, O Lord
God of hosts.
15:17. I sat not in the assembly of jesters, nor did I make a boast of
the presence of thy hand:  I sat alone, because thou hast filled me with
15:18. Why is my sorrow become perpetual, and my wound desperate so as
to refuse to be healed?  it is become to me as the falsehood of
deceitful waters that cannot be trusted.
15:19. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  If thou wilt be converted, I will
convert thee, and thou shalt stand before my face; and thou wilt
separate the precious from the vile, thou shalt be as my mouth:  they
shall be turned to thee, and thou shalt not be turned to them.
15:20. And I will make thee to this people as a strong wall of brass:
and they shall fight against thee, and shall not prevail:  for I am with
thee to save thee, and to deliver thee, saith the Lord.
15:21. And I will deliver thee out of the hand of the wicked, and I
will redeem thee out of the hand of the mighty.
Jeremias Chapter 16
The prophet is forbid to marry.  The Jews shall be utterly ruined for
their idolatry:  but shall at length be released from their captivity,
and the Gentiles shall be converted.
16:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
16:2. Thou shalt not take thee a wife, neither shalt thou have sons and
daughters in this place.
16:3. For thus saith the Lord concerning the sons and daughters, that
are born in this place, and concerning their mothers that bore them:
and concerning their fathers, of whom they were born in this land:
16:4. They shall die by the death of grievous illnesses:  they shall not
be lamented, and they shall not be buried, they shall be as dung upon
the face of the earth:  and they shall be consumed with the sword, and
with famine:  and their carcasses shall be meat for the fowls of the
air, and for the beasts of the earth.
16:5. For thus saith the Lord:  Enter not into the house of feasting,
neither go thou to mourn, nor to comfort them:  because I have taken
away my peace from this people, saith the Lord, my mercy and
commiserations.
16:6. Both the great and the little shall die in this land:  they shall
not be buried nor lamented, and men shall not cut themselves, nor make
themselves bald for them.
16:7. And they shall not break bread among them to him that mourneth,
to comfort him for the dead:  neither shall they give them for their
father and mother.
16:8. And do not thou go into the house of feasting, to sit with them,
and to eat and drink:
16:9. For thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel:  Behold I
will take away out of this place in your sight, and in your days the
voice of mirth, and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom,
and the voice of the bride.
16:10. And when thou shalt tell this people all these words, and they
shall say to thee:  Wherefore hath the Lord pronounced against us all
this great evil?  what is our iniquity?  and what is our sin, that we
have sinned against the Lord our God?
16:11. Thou shalt say to them:  Because your fathers forsook me, saith
the Lord:  and went after strange gods, and served them, and adored
them:  and they forsook me, and kept not my law.
16:12. And you also have done worse than your fathers:  for behold every
one of you walketh after the perverseness of his evil heart, so as not
to hearken to me.
16:13. So I will cast you forth out of this land, into a land which you
know not, nor your fathers:  and there you shall serve strange gods day
and night, which shall not give you any rest.
16:14. Therefore behold the days come, saith the Lord, when it shall be
said no more:  The Lord liveth, that brought forth the children of
Israel out of the land of Egypt.
16:15. But, The Lord liveth, that brought the children of Israel out of
the land of the north, and out of all the lands to which I cast them
out:  and I will bring them again into their land, which I gave to their
16:16. Behold I will send many fishers, saith the Lord, and they shall
fish them:  and after this I will send them many hunters, and they shall
hunt them from every mountain, and from every hill and out of the holes
of the rocks.
16:17. For my eyes are upon all their ways:  they are not hid from my
face, and their iniquity hath not been hid from my eyes.
16:18. And I will repay first their double iniquities, and their sins:
because they have defiled my land with the carcasses of their idols,
and they have filled my inheritance with their abominations.
16:19. O Lord, my might, and my strength, and my refuge in the day of
tribulation:  to thee the Gentiles shall come from the ends of the
earth, and shall say:  Surely our fathers have possessed lies, a vanity
which hath not profited them.
16:20. Shall a man make gods unto himself and they are no gods?
16:21. Therefore behold I will this once cause them to know, I will
shew them my hand and my power:  and they shall know that my name is the
Jeremias Chapter 17
For their obstinacy in sin the Jews shall be led captive.  He is cursed
that trusteth in flesh.  God alone searcheth the heart, giving to every
one as he deserves.  The prophet prayeth to be delivered from his
enemies, and preacheth up the observance of the sabbath.
17:1. The sin of Juda is written with a pen of iron, with the point of
a diamond, it is graven upon the table of their heart, upon the horns
of their altars.
17:2. When their children shall remember their altars, and their
groves, and their green trees upon the high mountains,
17:3. Sacrificing in the field:  I will give thy strength, and all thy
treasures to the spoil, and thy high places for sin in all thy borders.
17:4. And thou shalt be left stripped of thy inheritance, which I gave
thee:  and I will make thee serve thy enemies in a land which thou
knowest not:  because thou hast kindled a fire in my wrath, it shall
burn for ever.
17:5. Thus saith the Lord:  Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and
maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the Lord.
17:6. For he shall be like tamaric in the desert, and he shall not see
when good shall come:  but he shall dwell in dryness in the desert in a
salt land, and not inhabited.
Tamaric. . .A barren shrub that grows in the driest parts of the
17:7. Blessed be the man that trusteth in the Lord, and the Lord shall
be his confidence.
17:8. And he shall be as a tree that is planted by the waters, that
spreadeth out its roots towards moisture:  and it shall not fear when
the heat cometh.  And the leaf thereof shall be green, and in the time
of drought it shall not be solicitous, neither shall it cease at any
time to bring forth fruit.
17:9. The heart is perverse above all things, and unsearchable, who can
17:10. I am the Lord who search the heart, and prove the reins:  who
give to every one according to his way, and according to the fruit of
his devices.
17:11. As the partridge hath hatched eggs which she did not lay:  so is
he that hath gathered riches, and not by right:  in the midst of his
days he shall leave them, and in his latter end he shall be a fool.
17:12. A high and glorious throne from the beginning is the place of
our sanctification.
17:13. O Lord, the hope of Israel:  all that forsake thee shall be
confounded:  they that depart from thee, shall be written in the earth:
because they have forsaken the Lord, the vein of living waters.
17:14. Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed:  save me, and I shall be
saved:  for thou art my praise.
17:15. Behold they say to me:  Where is the word of the Lord?  let it
17:16. And I am not troubled, following thee for my pastor, and I have
not desired the day of man, thou knowest.  That which went out of my
lips, hath been right in thy sight.
17:17. Be not thou a terror unto me, thou art my hope in the day of
17:18. Let them be confounded that persecute me, and let not me be
confounded:  let them be afraid, and let not me be afraid:  bring upon
them the day of affliction, and with a double destruction, destroy
Let them be confounded, etc. . .Such expressions as these in the
writings of the prophets, are not to be understood as imprecations
proceeding from malice or desire of revenge:  but as prophetic
predictions of evils that were about to fall upon impenitent sinners,
and approbations of the ways of divine justice.
17:19. Thus saith the Lord to me:  Go, and stand in the gate of the
children of the people, by which the kings of Juda come in, and go out,
and in all the gates of Jerusalem:
17:20. And thou shalt say to them:  Hear the word of the Lord, ye kings
of Juda, and al Juda, and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem, that enter
in by these gates.
17:21. Thus saith the Lord:  Take heed to your souls, and carry no
burdens on the sabbath day:  and bring them not in by the gates of
17:22. And do not bring burdens out of your houses on the sabbath day,
neither do ye any work:  sanctify the sabbath day, as I commanded your
17:23. But they did not hear, nor incline their ear:  but hardened their
neck, that they might not hear me, and might not receive instruction.
17:24. And it shall come to pass:  if you will hearken to me, saith the
Lord, to bring in no burdens by the gates of this city on the sabbath
day:  and if you will sanctify the sabbath day, to do no work therein:
17:25. Then shall there enter in by the gates of this city kings and
princes, sitting upon the throne of David, and riding in chariots and
on horses, they and their princes, the men of Juda, and the inhabitants
of Jerusalem:  and this city shall be inhabited for ever.
17:26. And they shall come from the cities of Juda, and from the places
round about Jerusalem, and from the land of Benjamin, and from the
plains, and from the mountains, and from the south, bringing
holocausts, and victims, and sacrifices, and frankincense, and they
shall bring in an offering into the house of the Lord.
17:27. But if you will not hearken to me, to sanctify the sabbath day,
and not to carry burdens, and not to bring them in by the gates of
Jerusalem on the sabbath day:  I will kindle a fire in the gates
thereof, and it shall devour the houses of Jerusalem, and it shall not
be quenched.
Jeremias Chapter 18
As the clay in the hand of the potter, so is Israel in God's hand.  He
pardoneth penitents, and punisheth the obstinate.  They conspire against
Jeremias, for which he denounceth to them the miseries that hang over
18:1. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord, saying:
18:2. Arise, and go down into the potter's house, and there thou shalt
hear my words.
18:3. And I went down into the potter's house, and behold he was doing
a work on the wheel.
18:4. And the vessel was broken which he was making of clay with his
hands:  and turning he made another vessel, as it seemed good in his
eyes to make it.
18:5. Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
18:6. Cannot I do with you, as this potter, O house of Israel, saith
the Lord?  behold as clay is in the hand of the potter, so are you in my
hand, O house of Israel.
18:7. I will suddenly speak against a nation, and against a kingdom, to
root out, and to pull down, and to destroy it.
18:8. If that nation against which I have spoken, shall repent of their
evil, I also will repent of the evil that I have thought to do to them.
18:9. And I will suddenly speak of a nation and of a kingdom, to build
up and plant it.
18:10. If it shall do evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice:  I
will repent of the good that I have spoken to do unto it.
18:11. Now therefore tell the men of Juda, and the inhabitants of
Jerusalem, saying:  Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I frame evil against
you, and devise a device against you:  let every man of you return from
his evil way, and make ye your ways and your doings good.
18:12. And they said; We have no hopes:  for we will go after our own
thoughts, and we will do every one according to the perverseness of his
18:13. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  Ask among the nations:  Who hath
heard such horrible things, as the virgin of Israel hath done to
18:14. Shall the snow of Libanus fail from the rock of the field?  or
can the cold waters that gush out and run down, be taken away?
18:15. Because my people have forgotten me, sacrificing in vain, and
stumbling in their ways, in ancient paths, to walk by them in a way not
18:16. That their land might be given up to desolation, and to a
perpetual hissing:  every one that shall pass by it, shall be
astonished, and wag his head.
18:17. As a burning wind will I scatter them before the enemy:  I will
shew them the back, and not the face, in the day of their destruction.
18:18. And they said:  Come, and let us invent devices against Jeremias:
for the law shall not perish from the priest, nor counsel from the
wise, nor the word from the prophet:  come, and let us strike him with
the tongue, and let us give no heed to all his words.
18:19. Give heed to me, O Lord, and hear the voice of my adversaries.
18:20. Shall evil be rendered for good, because they have digged a pit
for my soul?  Remember that I have stood in thy sight, to speak good for
them, and to turn away thy indignation from them.
Remember, etc. . .This is spoken in the person of Christ, persecuted by
the Jews, and prophetically denouncing the evils that should fall upon
them in punishment of their crimes.
18:21. Therefore deliver up their children to famine, and bring them
into the hands of the sword:  let their wives be bereaved of children
and widows:  and let their husbands be slain by death:  let their young
men be stabbed with the sword in battle.
18:22. Let a cry be heard out of their houses:  for thou shalt bring the
robber upon them suddenly:  because they have digged a pit to take me,
and have hid snares for my feet.
18:23. But thou, O Lord, knowest all their counsel against me unto
death:  not their iniquity, and let not their sin be blotted out from
thy sight:  let them be overthrown before thy eyes, in the time of thy
wrath do thou destroy them.
Jeremias Chapter 19
Under the type of breaking a potter's vessel, the prophet foresheweth
the desolation of the Jews for their sins.
19:1. Thus saith the Lord:  Go, and take a potter's earthen bottle, and
take of the ancients of the people, and of the ancients of the priests:
19:2. And go forth into the valley of the son of Ennom, which is by the
entry of the earthen gate:  and there thou shalt proclaim the words that
I shall tell thee.
19:3. And thou shalt say:  Hear the word of the Lord, O ye kings of
Juda, and ye inhabitants of Jerusalem:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts,
the God of Israel:  Behold I will bring an affliction upon this place:
so that whosoever shall hear it, his ears shall tingle:
19:4. Because they have forsaken me, and have profaned this place :  and
have sacrificed therein to strange gods, whom neither they nor their
fathers knew, nor the kings of Juda:  and they have filled this place
with the blood of innocents.
19:5. And they have built the high places of Baalim, to burn their
children with fire for a holocaust to Baalim:  which I did not command,
nor speak of, neither did it once come into my mind.
19:6. Therefore behold the days come, saith the Lord, that this place
shall no more be called Topheth, nor the valley of the son of Ennom,
but the valley of slaughter.
19:7. And I will defeat the counsel of Juda and of Jerusalem in this
place:  and I will destroy them with the sword in the sight of their
enemies, and by the hands of them that seek their lives:  and I will
give their carcasses to be meat for the fowls of the air, and for the
beasts of the earth.
19:8. And I will make this city an astonishment, and a hissing:  every
one that shall pass by it, shall be astonished, and shall hiss because
of all the plagues thereof.
19:9. And I will feed them with the flesh of their sons, and with the
flesh of their daughters:  and they shall eat every one the flesh of his
friend in the siege, and in the distress wherewith their enemies, and
they that seek their lives, shall straiten them.
19:10. And thou shalt break the bottle in the sight of the men that
shall go with thee.
19:11. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Even
so will I break this people, and this city, as the potter's vessel is
broken, which cannot be made whole again:  and they shall be buried in
Topheth, because there is no other place to bury in.
19:12. Thus will I do to this place, saith the Lord, and to the
inhabitants thereof:  and I will make this city as Topheth.
19:13. And the houses of Jerusalem, and the houses of the kings of Juda
shall be unclean as the place of Topheth:  all the houses upon whose
roofs they have sacrificed to all the host of heaven, and have poured
out drink offerings to strange gods.
19:14. Then Jeremias came from Topheth, whither the Lord had sent him
to prophesy, and he stood in the court of the house of the Lord, and
said to all the people:
19:15. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel:  Behold I will
bring in upon this city, and upon all the cities thereof all the evils
that I have spoken against it:  because they have hardened their necks,
that they might not hear my words.
Jeremias Chapter 20
The prophet is persecuted:  he denounces captivity to his persecutors,
and bemoans himself.
20:1. Now Phassur the son of Emmer, the priest, who was appointed chief
in the house of the Lord, heard Jeremias prophesying these words.
20:2. And Phassur struck Jeremias the prophet, and put him in the
stocks, that were in the upper gate of Benjamin, in the house of the
20:3. And when it was light the next day, Phassur brought Jeremias out
of the stocks.  And Jeremias said to him:  The Lord hath not called thy
name Phassur, but fear on every side.
Phassur. . .This name signifies increase and principality:  and therefore
is here changed to Magor-Missabib, or fear on every side:  to denote the
evils that should come upon him in punishment of his opposing the word
20:4. For thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will deliver thee up to fear,
thee and all thy friends:  and they shall fall by the sword of their
enemies, and thy eyes shall see it, and I will give all Juda into the
hand of the king of Babylon:  and he shall carry them away to Babylon,
and shall strike them with the sword.
20:5. And I will give all the substance of this city, and all its
labour, and every precious thing thereof, and all the treasures of the
kings of Juda will I give into the hands of their enemies:  and they
shall pillage them, and take them away, and carry them to Babylon.
20:6. But thou Phassur, and all that dwell in thy house, shall go into
captivity, and thou shalt go to Babylon, and there thou shalt die, and
there thou shalt be buried, thou and all thy friends, to whom thou hast
prophesied a lie.
20:7. Thou hast deceived me, O Lord, and I am deceived:  thou hast been
stronger than I, and thou hast prevailed.  I am become a laughingstock
all the day, all scoff at me.
Thou hast deceived, etc. . .The meaning of the prophet, is not to charge
God with any untruth; but what he calls deceiving, was only the
concealing from him, when he accepted of the prophetical commission,
the greatness of the evils which the execution of that commission was
to bring upon him.
20:8. For I am speaking now this long time, crying out against
iniquity, and I often proclaim devastation:  and the word of the Lord is
made a reproach to me, and a derision all the day.
20:9. Then I said:  I will not make mention of him, nor speak any more
in his name:  and there came in my heart as a burning fire, shut up in
my bones, and I was wearied, not being able to bear it.
20:10. For I heard the reproaches of many, and terror on every side:
Persecute him, and let us persecute him:  from all the men that were my
familiars, and continued at my side:  if by any means he may be
deceived, and we may prevail against him, and be revenged on him.
20:11. But the Lord is with me as a strong warrior:  therefore they that
persecute me shall fall, and shall be weak:  they shall be greatly
confounded, because they have not understood the everlasting reproach,
which never shall be effaced.
20:12. And thou, O Lord of hosts, prover of the just, who seest the
reins and the heart:  let me see, I beseech thee, thy vengeance on them:
for to thee I have laid open my cause.
Let me see, etc. . .This prayer proceeded not from hatred or ill will,
but zeal of justice.
20:13. Sing ye to the Lord, praise the Lord:  because he hath delivered
the soul of the poor out of the hand of the wicked.
20:14. Cursed be the day wherein I was born:  let not the day in which
my mother bore me, be blessed.
Cursed be the day, etc. . .In these, and the following words of the
prophet, there is a certain figure of speech to express with more
energy the greatness of the evils to which his birth had exposed him.
20:15. Cursed be the man that brought the tidings to my father, saying:
A man child is born to thee:  and made him greatly rejoice.
20:16. Let that man be as the cities which the Lord hath overthrown,
and hath not repented:  let him hear a cry in the morning, and howling
at noontide:
20:17. Who slew me not from the womb, that my mother might have been my
grave, and her womb an everlasting conception.
20:18. Why came I out of the womb, to see labour and sorrow, and that
my days should be spent in confusion?
Jeremias Chapter 21
The prophet's answer to the messengers of Sedecias, when Jerusalem was
21:1. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord, when king Sedecias
sent unto him Phassur, the son of Melchias, and Sophonias, the son of
Maasias the priest, saying:
21:2. Inquire of the Lord for us, for Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon
maketh war against us:  if so be the Lord will deal with us according to
all his wonderful works, that he may depart from us.
21:3. And Jeremias said to them:  Thus shall you say to Sedecias:
21:4. Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:  Behold I will turn back
the weapons of war that are in your hands, and with which you fight
against the king of Babylon, and the Chaldeans, that besiege you round
about the walls:  and I will gather them together in the midst of this
21:5. And I myself will fight against you with an outstretched hand,
and with a strong arm, and in fury, and in indignation, and in great
21:6. And I will strike the inhabitants of this city, men and beasts
shall die of a great pestilence.
21:7. And after this, saith the Lord, I will give Sedecias the king of
Juda, and his servants, and his people, and such as are left in this
city from the pestilence, and the sword, and the famine, into the hand
of Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon, and into the hand of their
enemies, and into the hand of them that seek their life, and he shall
strike them with the edge of the sword, and he shall not be moved to
pity, nor spare them, nor shew mercy to them.
21:8. And to this people thou shalt say:  Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I
set before you the way of life, and the way of death.
21:9. He that shall abide in this city, shall die by the sword, and by
the famine, and by the pestilence:  but he that shall go out and flee
over to the Chaldeans, that besiege you, shall live, and his life shall
be to him as a spoil.
21:10. For I have set my face against this city for evil, and not for
good, saith the Lord:  it shall be given into the hand of the king of
Babylon, and he shall burn it with fire.
21:11. And to the house of the king of Juda:  Hear ye the word of the
21:12. O house of David, thus saith the Lord:  Judge ye judgment in the
morning, and deliver him that is oppressed by violence out of the hand
of the oppressor:  lest my indignation go forth like a fire, and be
kindled, and there be none to quench it, because of the evil of your
21:13. Behold I come to thee that dwellest in a valley upon a rock
above a plain, saith the Lord:  and you say:  Who shall strike us and who
shall enter into our houses?
To thee that dwellest, etc. . .He speaks to Jerusalem, confiding in the
strength of her situation upon rocks, surrounded with a deep valley.
21:14. But I will visit upon you according to the fruit of your doings,
saith the Lord:  and I will kindle a fire in the forest thereof:  and it
shall devour all things round about it.
Jeremias Chapter 22
An exhortation both to king and people to return of God.  The sentence
of God upon Joachaz, Joakim, and Jechonias.
22:1. Thus saith the Lord:  Go down to the house of the king of Juda,
and there thou shalt speak this word,
Go down, etc. . .The contents of this chapter are of a more ancient date
than those of the foregoing chapter:  for the order of time is not
always observed in the writings of the prophets.
22:2. And thou shalt say:  Hear the word of the Lord, king of Juda, that
sittest upon the throne of David:  thou and thy servants, and thy
people, who enter in by these gates.
22:3. Thus saith the Lord:  Execute judgment and justice, and deliver
him that is oppressed out of the hand of the oppressor:  and afflict not
the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, nor oppress them unjustly:
and shed not innocent blood in this place.
22:4. For if you will do this thing indeed, then shall there enter in
by the gates of this house, kings of the race of David sitting upon his
throne, and riding in chariots and on horses, they and their servants,
and their people.
22:5. But if you will not hearken to these words:  I swear by myself,
saith the Lord, that this house shall become a desolation.
22:6. For thus saith the Lord to the house of the king of Juda:  Thou
art to me Galaad the head of Libanus:  yet surely I will make thee a
wilderness, and cities not habitable.
Galaad the head of Libanus. . .By Galaad, a rich and fruitful country,
is here signified the royal palace of the kings of the house of David:
by Libanus, a high mountain abounding in cedar trees, the populous city
of Jerusalem.
22:7. And I will prepare against thee the destroyer and his weapons:
and they shall cut down thy chosen cedars, and shall cast them headlong
into the fire.
Prepare. . .Literally, sanctify.
22:8. And many nations shall pass by this city:  and they shall say
every man to his neighbour:  Why hath the Lord done so to this great
22:9. And they shall answer:  Because they have forsaken the covenant of
the Lord their God, and have adored strange gods, and served them.
22:10. Weep not for him that is dead, nor bemoan him with your tears:
lament him that goeth away, for he shall return no more, nor see his
native country.
Weep not for him that is dead, etc. . .He means the good king Josias,
who by death was taken away, so as not to see the miseries of his
country.--Ibid.  Him that goeth away. . .Viz., sellum, alias Joachaz, who
was carried captive into Egypt.
22:11. For thus saith the Lord to Sellum the son of Josias the king of
Juda, who reigned instead of his father, who went forth out of this
place:  He shall return hither no more:
22:12. But in the place, to which I have removed him, there shall he
die, and he shall not see this land any more.
22:13. Woe to him that buildeth up his house by injustice, and his
chambers not in judgment:  that will oppress his friend without cause,
and will not pay him his wages.
22:14. Who saith:  I will build me a wide house, and large chambers:  who
openeth to himself windows, and maketh roofs of cedar, and painteth
them with vermilion.
22:15. Shalt thou reign, because thou comparest thyself to the cedar?
did not thy father eat and drink, and do judgment and justice, and it
was then well with him?
22:16. He judged the cause of the poor and needy for his own good:  was
it not therefore because he knew me, saith the Lord?
22:17. But thy eyes and thy heart are set upon covetousness, and upon
shedding innocent blood, and upon oppression, and running after evil
22:18. Therefore thus saith the Lord concerning Joakim the son of
Josias king of Juda:  They shall not mourn for him, Alas, my brother,
and, Alas, sister:  they shall not lament for him, Alas, my lord, or,
Alas, the noble one.
22:19. He shall be buried with the burial of an ass, rotten and cast
forth without the gates of Jerusalem.
22:20. Go up to Libanus, and cry:  and lift up thy voice in Basan, and
cry to them that pass by, for all thy lovers are destroyed.
22:21. I spoke to thee in thy prosperity:  and thou saidst:  I will not
hear:  this hath been thy way from thy youth, because thou hast not
heard my voice.
22:22. The wind shall feed all thy pastors, and thy lovers shall go
into captivity and then shalt thou be confounded, and ashamed of all
thy wickedness.
22:23. Thou that sittest in Libanus, and makest thy nest in the cedars,
how hast thou mourned when sorrows came upon thee, as the pains of a
woman in labour?
22:24. As I live, saith the Lord, if Jechonias the son of Joakim the
king of Juda were a ring on my right hand, I would pluck him thence.
22:25. And I will give thee into the hand of them that seek thy life,
and into the hand of them whose face thou fearest, and into the hand of
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon, and into the hand of the Chaldeans.
22:26. And I will send thee, and thy mother that bore thee, into a
strange country, in which you were not born, and there you shall die:
22:27. And they shall not return into the land, whereunto they lift up
their mind to return thither.
22:28. Is this man Jechonias an earthen and a broken vessel?  is he a
vessel wherein is no pleasure?  why are they cast out, he and his seed,
and are cast into a land which they know not?
22:29. O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord.
22:30. Thus saith the Lord:  Write this man barren, a man that shall not
prosper in his days:  for there shall not be a man of his seed that
shall sit upon the throne of David, and have power any more in Juda.
Write this man barren. . .That is, childless:  not that he had no
children, but that his children should never sit on the throne of Juda.
Jeremias Chapter 23
God reproves evil governors; and promises to send good pastors; and
Christ himself the prince of the pastors.  He inveighs against false
prophets preaching without being sent.
23:1. Woe to the pastors, that destroy and tear the sheep of my
pasture, saith the Lord.
23:2. Therefore thus saith the Lord the God of Israel to the pastors
that feed my people:  You have scattered my flock, and driven them away,
and have not visited them:  behold I will visit upon you for the evil of
your doings, saith the Lord.
23:3. And I will gather together the remnant of my flock, out of all
the lands into which I have cast them out:  and I will make them return
to their own fields, and they shall increase and be multiplied.
23:4. And I will set up pastors over them, and they shall feed them:
they shall fear no more, and they shall not be dismayed:  and none shall
be wanting of their number, saith the Lord.
23:5. Behold the days come, saith the Lord, and I will raise up to
David a just branch:  and a king shall reign, and shall be wise:  and
shall execute judgment and justice in the earth.
23:6. In those days shall Juda be saved, and Israel shall dwell
confidently:  and this is the name that they shall call him:  The Lord
our just one.
23:7. Therefore behold the days come, saith the Lord, and they shall
say no more:  The Lord liveth, who brought up the children of Israel out
of the land of Egypt:
23:8. But, The Lord liveth, who hath brought out, and brought hither
the seed of the house of Israel from the land of the north, and out of
all the lands, to which I had cast them forth:  and they shall dwell in
their own land.
23:9. To the prophets:  My heart is broken within me, all my bones
tremble:  I am become as a drunken man, and as a man full of wine, at
the presence of the Lord, and at the presence of his holy words.
23:10. Because the land is full of adulterers, because the land hath
mourned by reason of cursing, the fields of the desert are dried up:
and their course is become evil, and their strength unlike.
23:11. For the prophet and the priest are defiled:  and in my house I
have found their wickedness, saith the Lord.
23:12. Therefore their way shall be as a slippery way in the dark:  for
they shall be driven on, and fall therein:  for I will bring evils upon
them, the year of their visitation, saith the Lord.
23:13. And I have seen folly in the prophets of Samaria:  they
prophesied in Baal and deceived my people Israel.
23:14. And I have seen the likeness of adulterers, and the way of lying
in the prophets of Jerusalem:  and they strengthened the hands of the
wicked, that no man should return from his evil doings, they are all
become unto me as Sodom, and the inhabitants thereof as Gomorrha.
23:15. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts to the prophets:  Behold I
will feed them with wormwood, and will give them gall to drink:  for
from the prophets of Jerusalem corruption is gone forth into all the
23:16. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Hearken not to the words of the
prophets that prophesy to you, and deceive you:  they speak a vision of
their own heart, and not out of the mouth of the Lord.
23:17. They say to them that blaspheme me:  The Lord hath said:  You
shall have peace:  and to every one that walketh in the perverseness of
his own heart, they have said:  No evil shall come upon you.
23:18. For who hath stood in the counsel of the Lord, and hath seen and
heard his word?  Who hath considered his word and heard it?
23:19. Behold the whirlwind of the Lord's indignation shall come forth,
and a tempest shall break out and come upon the head of the wicked.
23:20. The wrath of the Lord shall not return till he execute it, and
till he accomplish the thought of his heart:  in the latter days you
shall understand his counsel.
23:21. I did not send prophets, yet they ran:  I have not spoken to
them, yet they prophesied.
23:22. If they had stood in my counsel, and had made my words known to
my people, I should have turned them from their evil way, and from
their wicked doings.
23:23. Am I, think ye, a God at hand, saith the Lord, and not a God
23:24. Shall a man be hid in secret places, and I not see him, saith
the Lord?  do not I fill heaven and earth, saith the Lord?
23:25. I have heard what the prophets said, that prophesy lies in my
name, and say:  I have dreamed, I have dreamed.
23:26. How long shall this be in the heart of the prophets that
prophesy lies, and that prophesy the delusions of their own heart?
23:27. Who seek to make my people forget my name through their dreams,
which they tell every man to his neighbour:  as their fathers forgot my
name for Baal.
23:28. The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream:  and he that
hath my word, let him speak my word with truth:  what hath the chaff to
do with the wheat, saith the Lord?
23:29. Are not my words as a fire, saith the Lord:  and as a hammer that
breaketh the rock in pieces?
23:30. Therefore behold I am against the prophets, saith the Lord:  who
steal my words every one from his neighbour.
23:31. Behold I am against the prophets, saith the Lord:  who use their
tongues, and say:  The Lord saith it.
23:32. Behold I am against the prophets that have lying dreams, saith
the Lord:  and tell them, and cause my people to err by their lying, and
by their wonders:  when I sent them not, nor commanded them, who have
not profited this people at all, saith the Lord.
23:33. If therefore this people, or the prophet, or the priest shall
ask thee, saying:  What is the burden of the Lord?  thou shalt say to
them:  You are the burden:  for I will cast you away, saith the Lord.
23:34. And as for the prophet, and the priest, and the people that
shall say:  The burden of the Lord:  I will visit upon that man, and upon
Burden of the Lord. . .This expression is here rejected and disallowed,
at least for those times:  because it was then used in mockery and
contempt by the false prophets, and unbelieving people, who ridiculed
the repeated threats of Jeremias under the name of his burdens.
23:35. Thus shall you say every one to his neighbour, and to his
brother, What hath the Lord answered?  and what hath the Lord spoken?
23:36. And the burden of the Lord shall be mentioned no more, for every
man's word shall be his burden:  for you have perverted the words of the
living God, of the Lord of hosts our God.
23:37. Thus shalt thou say to the prophet:  What hath the Lord answered
thee?  and what hath the Lord spoken?
23:38. But if you shall say:  The burden of the Lord:  therefore thus
saith the Lord:  Because you have said this word:  The burden of the
Lord:  and I have sent to you, saying:  Say not, The burden of the Lord:
23:39. Therefore behold I will take you away carrying you, and will
forsake you, and the city which I gave to you, and to your fathers, out
of my presence.
Out of my presence. . .That is, the Lord declares that out of his
presence he will cast them, and bring them to captivity for their
transgressions.
23:40. And I will bring an everlasting reproach upon you, and a
perpetual shame which shall never be forgotten.
Jeremias Chapter 24
Under the type of good and bad figs, he foretells the restoration of
the Jews that had been carried away captive with Jechonias, and the
desolation of those that were left behind.
24:1. The Lord shewed me:  and behold two baskets full of figs, set
before the temple of the Lord:  after that Nabuchodonosor king of
Babylon had carried away Jechonias the son of Joakim the king of Juda,
and his chief men, and the craftsmen, and engravers of Jerusalem, and
had brought them to Babylon.
24:2. One basket had very good figs, like the figs of the first season:
and the other basket had very bad figs, which could not be eaten,
because they were bad.
24:3. And the Lord said to me:  What seest thou, Jeremias?  And I said:
Figs, the good figs, very good:  and the bad figs, very bad, which
cannot be eaten because they are bad.
24:4. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
24:5. Thus saith the Lord the God of Israel:  Like these good figs, so
will I regard the captives of Juda, whom I have sent forth out of this
place into the land of the Chaldeans, for their good.
24:6. And I will set my eyes upon them to be pacified, and I will bring
them again into this land:  and I will build them up, and not pull them
down:  and I will plant them, and not pluck them up.
24:7. And I will give them a heart to know me, that I am the Lord:  and
they shall be my people, and I will be their God:  because they shall
return to me with their whole heart.
24:8. And as the very bad figs, that cannot be eaten, because they are
bad:  thus saith the Lord:  So will I give Sedecias the king of Juda, and
his princes, and the residue of Jerusalem, that have remained in this
city, and that dwell in the land of Egypt.
24:9. And I will deliver them up to vexation, and affliction, to all
the kingdoms of the earth:  to be a reproach, and a byword, and a
proverb, and to be a curse in all places, to which I have cast them
24:10. And I will send among them the sword, and the famine, and the
pestilence:  till they be consumed out of the land which I gave to them,
and their fathers.
Jeremias Chapter 25
The prophet foretells the seventy years captivity; after that the
destruction of Babylon, and other nations.
25:1. The word that came to Jeremias concerning all the people of Juda,
in the fourth year of Joakim the son of Josias king of Juda, (the same
is the first year of Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon,)
25:2. Which Jeremias the prophet spoke to all the people of Juda, and
to all the inhabitants of Jerusalem, saying:
25:3. From the thirteenth year of Josias the son of Ammon king of Juda
until this day:  this is the three and twentieth year, the word of the
Lord hath come to me, and I have spoken to you, rising before day, and
speaking, and you have not hearkened.
25:4. And the Lord hath sent to you all his servants the prophets,
rising early, and sending, and you have not hearkened, nor inclined
your ears to hear.
25:5. When he said:  Return ye, every one from his evil way, and from
your wicked devices, and you shall dwell in the land which the Lord
hath given to you, and your fathers for ever and ever.
25:6. And go not after strange gods to serve them, and adore them:  nor
provoke me to wrath by the works of your hands, and I will not afflict
25:7. And you have not heard me, saith the Lord, that you might provoke
me to anger with the works of your hands, to your own hurt.
25:8. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Because you have not
heard my words:
25:9. Behold I will send, and take all the kindreds of the north, saith
the Lord, and Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon my servant:  and I will
bring them against this land, and against the inhabitants thereof, and
against all the nations that are round about it:  and I will destroy
them, and make them an astonishment and a hissing, and perpetual
desolations.
My servant. . .So this wicked king is here called; because God made him
his instrument in punishing the sins of his people.
25:10. And I will take away from them the voice of mirth, and the voice
of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom, and the voice of the bride,
the sound of the mill and the light of the lamp.
25:11. And all this land shall be a desolation, and an astonishment:
and all these nations shall serve the king of Babylon seventy years.
25:12. And when the seventy years shall be expired, I will punish the
king of Babylon, and that nation, saith the Lord, for their iniquity,
and the land of the Chaldeans:  and I will make it perpetual
desolations.
Punish. . .Literally, visit upon.
25:13. And I will bring upon that land all my words, that I have spoken
against it, all that is written in this book, all that Jeremias hath
prophesied against all nations:
25:14. For they have served them, whereas they were many nations, and
great kings:  and I will repay them according to their deeds, and
according to the works of their hands.
25:15. For thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Take the cup
of wine of this fury at my hand:  and thou shalt make all the nations to
drink thereof, into which I shall send thee.
25:16. And they shall drink, and be troubled, and be mad because of the
sword, which I shall send among them.
25:17. And I took the cup at the hand of the Lord, and I presented it
to all the nations to drink of it, to which the Lord sent me:
25:18. To wit, Jerusalem, and the cities of Juda, and the kings
thereof, and the princes thereof:  to make them a desolation, and an
astonishment, and a hissing, and a curse, as it is at this day.
25:19. Pharao the king of Egypt, and his servants, and his princes, and
all his people,
25:20. And all in general:  all the kings of the land of Ausitis, and
all the kings of the land of the Philistines, and Ascalon, and Gaza,
and Accaron, and the remnant of Azotus.
25:21. And Edom, and Moab, and the children of Ammon.
25:22. And all the kings of Tyre, and all the kings of Sidon:  and the
kings of the land of the islands that are beyond the sea.
25:23. And Dedan, and Thema, and Buz, and all that have their hair cut
25:24. And all the kings of Arabia, and all the kings of the west, that
dwell in the desert.
25:25. And all the kings of Zambri, and all the kings of Elam, and all
the kings of the Medes:
25:26. And all the kings of the north far and near, every one against
his brother:  and all the kingdoms of the earth, which are upon the face
thereof:  and the king of Sesac shall drink after them.
Sesac. . .That is, Babel, or Babylon; which after bringing all these
people under her yoke, should quickly fall and be destroyed herself.
25:27. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God
of Israel:  Drink ye, and be drunken, and vomit:  and fall, and rise no
more, because of the sword, which I shall send among you.
25:28. And if they refuse to take the cup at thy hand to drink, thou
shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Drinking you shall
25:29. For behold I begin to bring evil on the city wherein my name is
called upon:  and shall you be as innocent and escape free?  you shall
not escape free:  for I will call for the sword upon all the inhabitants
of the earth, saith the Lord of hosts.
25:30. And thou shalt prophesy unto them all these words, and thou
shalt say to them:  I The Lord shall roar from on high, and shall utter
his voice from his holy habitation:  roaring he shall roar upon the
place of his beauty:  the shout as it were of them that tread grapes
shall be given out against all the inhabitants of the earth.
25:31. The noise is come even to the ends of the earth:  for the Lord
entereth into judgment with the nations:  he entereth into judgment with
all flesh; the wicked I have delivered up to the sword, saith the Lord.
25:32. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Behold evil shall go forth from
nation to nation:  and a great whirlwind shall go forth from the ends of
25:33. And the slain of the Lord shall be at that day from one end of
the earth even to the other end thereof:  they shall not be lamented,
and they shall not be gathered up, nor buried:  they shall lie as dung
upon the face of the earth.
25:34. Howl, ye shepherds, and cry:  and sprinkle yourselves with ashes,
ye leaders of the flock:  for the days of your slaughter and your
dispersion are accomplished, and you shall fall like precious vessels.
25:35. And the shepherds shall have no way to flee, nor the leaders of
the flock to save themselves.
25:36. A voice of the cry of the shepherds, and a howling of the
principal of the flock:  because the Lord hath wasted their pastures.
25:37. And the fields of peace have been silent because of the fierce
anger of the Lord.
25:38. He hath forsaken his covert as the lion, for the land is laid
waste because of the wrath of the dove, and because of the fierce anger
of the Lord.
The dove. . .This is commonly understood of Nabuchodonosor, whose
military standard, it is said, was a dove.  But the Hebrew word Jonah,
which is here rendered a dove, may also signify a waster or oppressor,
which name better agrees to that unmerciful prince; or by comparison,
as a dove's flight is the swiftest, so would their destruction come
Jeremias Chapter 26
The prophet is apprehended and accused by the priests:  but discharged
by the princes.
26:1. In the beginning of the reign of Joakim the son of Josias king of
Juda, came this word from the Lord, saying:
26:2. Thus saith the Lord:  stand in the court of the house of the Lord,
and speak to all the cities of Juda, out of which they come, to adore
in the house of the Lord, all the words which I have commanded thee to
speak unto them:  leave not out one word.
26:3. If so be they will hearken and be converted every one from his
evil way; that I may repent me of the evil that I think to do unto them
for the wickedness of their doings.
26:4. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord:  If you will not
hearken to me to walk in my law, which I have given you:
26:5. To give ear to the words of my servants the prophets, whom I sent
to you rising up early:  and sending, and you have not hearkened:
26:6. I will make this house like Silo:  and I will make this city a
curse to all the nations of the earth.
26:7. And the priests, and the prophets, and all the people heard
Jeremias speaking these words in the house of the Lord.
26:8. And when Jeremias had made an end of speaking all that the Lord
had commanded him to speak to all the people, the priests, and the
prophets, and all the people laid hold on him, saying:  Let him be put
26:9. Why hath he prophesied in the name of the Lord, saying:  This
house shall be like Silo; and this city shall be made desolate, without
an inhabitant?  And all the people were gathered together against
Jeremias in the house of the Lord.
26:10. And the princes of Juda heard these words:  and they went up from
the king's house into the house of the Lord, and sat in the entry of
the new gate of the house of the Lord.
26:11. And the priests and the prophets spoke to the princes, and to
all the people, saying:  The judgment of death is for this man:  because
he hath prophesied against this city, as you have heard with your ears.
26:12. Then Jeremias spoke to all the princes, and to all the people,
saying:  The Lord sent me to prophesy concerning this house, and
concerning this city all the words that you have heard.
26:13. Now therefore amend your ways, and your doings, and hearken to
the voice of the Lord your God:  and the Lord will repent him of the
evil that he hath spoken against you.
26:14. But as for me, behold I am in your hands:  do with me what is
good and right in your eyes:
26:15. But know ye, and understand, that if you put me to death, you
will shed innocent blood against your own selves, and against this
city, and the inhabitants thereof.  For in truth the Lord sent me to
you, to speak all these words in your hearing.
26:16. Then the princes, and all the people said to the priests, and to
the prophets:  There is no judgment of death for this man:  for he hath
spoken to us in the name of the Lord our God.
26:17. And some of the ancients of the land rose up:  and they spoke to
all the assembly of the people, saying:
26:18. Micheas of Morasthi was a prophet in the days of Ezechias king
of Juda, and he spoke to all the people of Juda, saying:  Thus saith the
Lord of hosts:  Sion shall be ploughed like a field, and Jerusalem shall
be a heap of stones:  and the mountain of the house the high places of
26:19. Did Ezechias king of Juda, and all Juda, condemn him to death?
did they not fear the Lord, and beseech the face of the Lord:  and the
Lord repented of the evil that he had spoken against them?  therefore we
are doing a great evil against our souls.
26:20. There was also a man that prophesied in the name of the Lord,
Urias the son of Semei of Cariathiarim:  and he prophesied against this
city, and against this land, according to all the words of Jeremias.
26:21. And Joakim, and all his men in power, and his princes heard
these words:  and the king sought to put him to death.  And Urias heard
it, and was afraid, and fled and went into Egypt.
26:22. And king Joakim sent men into Egypt, Elnathan the son of
Achobor, and men with him into Egypt.
26:23. And they brought Urias out of Egypt:  and brought him to king
Joakim, and he slew him with the sword:  and he cast his dead body into
the graves of the common people.
26:24. So the hand of Ahicam the son of Saphan was with Jeremias, that
he should not be delivered into the hands of the people, to put him to
Jeremias Chapter 27
The prophet sends chains to divers kings, signifying that they must
bend their necks under the yoke of the king of Babylon.  The vessels of
the temple shall not be brought back till all the rest are carried
27:1. In the beginning of the reign of Joakim the son of Josias king of
Juda, this word came to Jeremias from the Lord, saying:
Joakim. . .This revelation was made to the prophet in the beginning of
the reign of Joakim:  but the bands were not sent to the princes here
named before the reign of Sedecias, ver. 3.
27:2. Thus saith the Lord to me:  Make thee bands, and chains:  and thou
shalt put them on thy neck.
27:3. And thou shalt send them to the king of Edom, and to the king of
Moab, and to the king of the children of Ammon, and to the king of
Tyre, and to the king of Sidon:  by the hand of the messengers that are
come to Jerusalem to Sedecias the king of Juda.
27:4. And thou shalt command them to speak to their masters:  Thus saith
the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Thus shall you say to your
27:5. I made the earth, and the men and the beasts that are upon the
face of the earth, by my great power, and by my stretched out arm:  and
I have given it to whom it seemed good in my eyes.
27:6. And now I have given all these lands into the hand of
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon my servant:  moreover also the beasts of
the field I have given him to serve him.
27:7. And all nations shall serve him, and his son, and his son's son:
till the time come for his land and himself:  and many nations and great
kings shall serve him.
His son. . .Viz., Evilmerodach; and his son's son, Nabonydus, or
Nabonadius, the Baltassar of Daniel, chap. 5., and the last of the
Chaldean kings.
27:8. But the nation and kingdom that will not serve Nabuchodonosor
king of Babylon, and whosoever will not bend his neck under the yoke of
the king of Babylon:  I will visit upon that nation with the sword, and
with famine, and with pestilence, saith the Lord:  till I consume them
by his hand.
27:9. Therefore hearken not to your prophets, and diviners, and
dreamers, and soothsayers, and sorcerers, that say to you:  You shall
not serve the king of Babylon.
27:10. For they prophesy lies to you:  to remove you far from your
country, and cast you out, and to make you perish.
27:11. But the nation that shall bend down their neck under the yoke of
the king of Babylon, and shall serve him:  I will let them remain in
their own land, saith the Lord:  and they shall till it, and dwell in
27:12. And I spoke to Sedecias the king of Juda according to all these
words, saying:  Bend down your necks under the yoke of the king of
Babylon, and serve him, and his people, and you shall live.
27:13. Why will you die, thou and thy people by the sword, and by
famine, and by the pestilence, as the Lord hath spoken against the
nation that will not serve the king of Babylon?
27:14. Hearken not to the words of the prophets that say to you:  You
shall not serve the king of Babylon:  for they tell you a lie.
27:15. For I have not sent them, saith the Lord:  and they prophesy in
my name falsely:  to drive you out, and that you may perish, both you,
and the prophets that prophesy to you.
27:16. I spoke also to the priests, and to this people, saying:  Thus
saith the Lord:  Hearken not to the words of your prophets, that
prophesy to you, saying:  Behold the vessels of the Lord shall now in a
short time be brought again from Babylon:  for they prophesy a lie unto
27:17. Therefore hearken not to them, but serve the king of Babylon,
that you may live.  Why should this city be given up to desolation?
27:18. But if they be prophets, and the word of the Lord be in them:
let them interpose themselves before the Lord of hosts, that the
vessels which were left in the house of the Lord, and in the house of
the king of Juda, and in Jerusalem, may not go to Babylon.
27:19. For thus saith the Lord of hosts to the pillars, and to the sea,
and to the bases, and to the rest of the vessels that remain in this
27:20. Which Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon did not take, when he
carried away Jechonias the son of Joakim the king of Juda, from
Jerusalem to Babylon, and all the great men of Juda and Jerusalem.
27:21. For thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel, to the
vessels that are left in the house of the Lord, and in the house of the
king of Juda and Jerusalem:
27:22. They shall be carried to Babylon, and there they shall be until
the day of their visitation, saith the Lord:  and I will cause them to
be brought, and to be restored in this place.
Jeremias Chapter 28
The false prophecy of Hananias:  he dies that same year, as Jeremias
28:1. And it came to pass in that year, in the beginning of the reign
of Sedecias king of Juda, in the fourth year, in the fifth month, that
Hananias the son of Azur, a prophet of Gabaon spoke to me, in the house
of the Lord before the priests, and all the people, saying:
28:2. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  I have broken the
yoke of the king of Babylon.
28:3. As yet two years of days, and I will cause all the vessels of the
house of the Lord to be brought back into this place, which
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon took away from this place, and carried
them to Babylon.
28:4. And I will bring back to this place Jechonias the son of Joakim
king of Juda, and all the captives of Juda, that are gone to Babylon,
saith the Lord:  for I will break the yoke of the king of Babylon.
28:5. And Jeremias the prophet said to Hananias the prophet in the
presence of the priests, and in the presence of all the people that
stood in the house of the Lord:
28:6. And Jeremias the prophet said:  Amen, the Lord do so:  the Lord
perform thy words, which thou hast prophesied:  that the vessels may be
brought again into the house of the Lord, and all the captives may
return out of Babylon to this place.
28:7. Nevertheless hear this word that I speak in thy ears, and in the
ears of all the people:
28:8. The prophets that have been before me, and before thee from the
beginning, and have prophesied concerning many countries, and
concerning great kingdoms, of war, and of affliction, and of famine.
28:9. The prophet that prophesied peace:  when his word shall come to
pass, the prophet shall be known, whom the hath sent in truth.
28:10. And Hananias the prophet took the chain from the neck of
Jeremias the prophet, and broke it.
28:11. And Hananias spoke in the presence of all the people, saying:
Thus saith the Lord:  Even so will I break the yoke of Nabuchodonosor
the king of Babylon after two full years from off the neck of all the
28:12. And Jeremias the prophet went his way.  And the word of the Lord
came to Jeremias, after that Hananias the prophet had broken the chain
from off the neck of Jeremias the prophet, saying:
28:13. Go, and tell Hananias:  Thus saith the Lord:  Thou hast broken
chains of wood, and thou shalt make for them chains of iron.
28:14. For thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  I have put a
yoke of iron upon the neck of all these nations, to serve
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon, and they shall serve him:  moreover also
I have given him the beasts of the earth.
28:15. And Jeremias the prophet said to Hananias the prophet:  Hear now,
Hananias:  the Lord hath not sent thee, and thou hast made this people
to trust in a lie.
28:16. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will send thee away from
off the face of the earth:  this year shalt thou die:  for thou hast
spoken against the Lord.
28:17. And Hananias the prophet died in that year, in the seventh
Jeremias Chapter 29
Jeremias writeth to the captives in Babylon, exhorting them to be easy
there, and not to hearken to false prophets.  That they shall be
delivered after seventy years.  But those that remain in Jerusalem shall
perish by the sword, famine, and pestilence.  And that Achab, Sedecias,
and Semeias, false prophets, shall die miserably.
29:1. Now these are the words of the letter which Jeremias the prophet
sent from Jerusalem to the residue of the ancients that were carried
into captivity, and to the priests, and to the prophets, and to all the
people, whom Nabuchodonosor had carried away from Jerusalem to Babylon:
29:2. After that Jechonias the king, and the queen, and the eunuchs,
and the princes of Juda, and of Jerusalem, and the craftsmen, and the
engravers were departed out of Jerusalem:
29:3. By the hand of Elasa the son of Saphan, and Gamarias the son of
Helcias, whom Sedecias king of Juda sent to Babylon to Nabuchodonosor
king of Babylon, saying:
29:4. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel, to all that are
carried away captives, whom I have caused to be carried away from
Jerusalem to Babylon:
29:5. Build ye houses, and dwell in them:  and plant orchards, and eat
the fruit of them.
29:6. Take ye wives, and beget sons and daughters:  and take wives for
your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, and let them bear sons
and daughters:  and be ye multiplied there, and be not few in number.
29:7. And seek the peace of the city, to which I have caused you to be
carried away captives; and pray to the Lord for it:  for in the peace
thereof shall be your peace.
29:8. For thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Let not your
prophets that are in the midst of you, and your diviners deceive you:
and give no heed to your dreams which you dream:
29:9. For they prophesy falsely to you in my name:  and I have not sent
them, saith the Lord.
29:10. For thus saith the Lord:  When the seventy years shall begin to
be accomplished in Babylon, I will visit you:  and I will perform my
good word in your favour, to bring you again to this place.
29:11. For I know the thoughts that I think towards you, saith the
Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of affliction, to give you an end and
29:12. And you shall call upon me, and you shall go.  and you shall pray
to me, and I will hear you.
29:13. You shall seek me, and shall find me:  when you shall seek me
with all your heart.
29:14. And I will be found by you, saith the Lord:  and I will bring
back your captivity, and I will gather you out of all nations, and from
all the places to which I have driven you out, saith the Lord:  and I
will bring you back from the place to which I caused you to be carried
away captive.
29:15. Because you have said:  The Lord hath raised us up prophets in
29:16. For thus saith the Lord to the king that sitteth upon the throne
of David, and to all the people that dwell in this city, to your
brethren that are not gone forth with you into captivity.
29:17. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Behold I will send upon them the
sword, and the famine, and the pestilence:  and I will make them like
bad figs that cannot be eaten, because they are very bad.
29:18. And I will persecute them with the sword, and with famine, and
with the pestilence:  and I will give them up unto affliction to all the
kingdoms of the earth:  to be a curse, and an astonishment, and a
hissing, and a reproach to all the nations to which I have driven them
29:19. Because they have not hearkened to my words, saith the Lord:
which I sent to them by my servants the prophets, rising by night, and
sending:  and you have not heard, saith the Lord.
29:20. Hear ye therefore the word of the Lord, all ye of the captivity,
whom I have sent out from Jerusalem to Babylon.
29:21. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel, to Achab the son
of Colias, and to Sedecias the son of Maasias, who prophesy unto you in
my name falsely:  Behold I will deliver them up into the hands of
Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon:  and he shall kill them before your
29:22. And of them shall be taken up a curse by all the captivity of
Juda, that are in Babylon, saying:  The Lord make thee like Sedecias,
and like Achab, whom the king of Babylon fried in the fire:
29:23. Because they have acted folly in Israel, and have committed
adultery with the wives of their friends, and have spoken lying words
in my name, which I commanded them not:  I am the judge and the witness,
saith the Lord.
29:24. And to Semeias the Nehelamite thou shalt say:
29:25. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Because thou
hast sent letters in thy name to all the people that are in Jerusalem,
and to Sophonias the son of Maasias the priest, and to all the priests,
29:26. The Lord hath made thee priest instead of Joiada the priest,
that thou shouldst be ruler in the house of the Lord, over every man
that raveth and prophesieth, to put him in the stocks, and into prison.
29:27. And now why hast thou not rebuked Jeremias the Anathothite, who
prophesieth to you?
29:28. For he hath also sent to us in Babylon, saying:  It is a long
time:  build ye houses, and dwell in them:  and plant gardens, and eat
the fruits of them.
29:29. So Sophonias the priest read this letter, in the hearing of
Jeremias the prophet.
29:30. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias, saying:
29:31. Send to all them of the captivity, saying:  Thus saith the Lord
to Semeias the Nehelamite:  Because Semeias hath prophesied to you, and
I sent him not:  and hath caused you to trust in a lie:
29:32. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  behold I will visit upon Semeias
the Nehelamite, and upon his seed:  he shall not have a man to sit in
the midst of this people, and he shall not see the good that I will do
to my people, saith the Lord:  because he hath spoken treason against
Jeremias Chapter 30
God will deliver his people from their captivity:  Christ shall be their
king:  and his church shall be glorious for ever.
30:1. This is the word that came to Jeremias from the Lord, saying:
30:2. Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel, saying:  Write thee all
the words that I have spoken to thee, in a book.
30:3. For behold the days come, saith the Lord, and I will bring again
the captivity of my people Israel and Juda, saith the Lord:  and I will
cause them to return to the land which I gave to their fathers, and
they shall possess it.
30:4. And these are the words that the Lord hath spoken to Israel and
30:5. For thus saith the Lord:  We have heard a voice of terror:  there
is fear and no peace.
30:6. Ask ye, and see if a man bear children?  why then have I seen
every man with his hands on his loins, like a woman in labour, and all
faces are turned yellow?
30:7. Alas, for that day is great, neither is there the like to it; and
it is the time of tribulation to Jacob, but he shall be saved out of
30:8. And it shall come to pass in that day, saith the Lord of hosts,
that I will break his yoke from off thy neck, and will burst his bands:
and strangers shall no more rule over him:
30:9. But they shall serve the Lord their God, and David their king,
whom I will raise up to them.
David. . .That is, Christ of the house of David.
30:10. Therefore fear thou not, my servant Jacob, saith the Lord,
neither be dismayed, O Israel:  for behold, I will save thee from a
country afar off, and thy seed from the land of their captivity:  and
Jacob shall return, and be at rest, and abound with all good things,
and there shall be none whom he may fear:
30:11. For I am with thee, saith the Lord, to save thee:  for I will
utterly consume all the nations, among which I have scattered thee:  but
I will not utterly consume thee:  but I will chastise thee in judgment,
that thou mayst not seem to thyself innocent.
30:12. For thus saith the Lord:  Thy bruise is incurable, thy wound is
very grievous.
30:13. There is none to judge thy judgment to bind it up:  thou hast no
healing medicines.
30:14. All thy lovers have forgotten thee, and will not seek after
thee:  for I have wounded thee with the wound of an enemy, with cruel
chastisement:  by reason of the multitude of thy iniquities, thy sins
are hardened.
30:15. Why criest thou for thy affliction?  thy sorrow is incurable:  for
the multitude of thy iniquity, and for thy hardened sins I have done
these things to thee.
30:16. Therefore all they that devour thee, shall be devoured:  and all
thy enemies shall be carried into captivity:  and they that waste thee
shall be wasted, and all that prey upon thee will I give for a prey.
30:17. For I will close up thy scar, and will heal thee of thy wounds,
saith the Lord.  Because they have called thee, O Sion, an outcast:  This
is she that hath none to seek after her.
30:18. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will bring back the captivity of
the pavilions of Jacob, and will have pity on his houses, and the city
shall be built in her high place, and the temple shall be founded
according to the order thereof.
30:19. And out of them shall come forth praise, and the voice of them
that play:  and I will multiply them, and they shall not be made few:
and I will glorify them, and they shall not be lessened.
30:20. And their children shall be as from the beginning, and their
assembly shall be permanent before me:  and I will visit against all
that afflict them.
30:21. And their leader shall be of themselves:  and their prince shall
come forth from the midst of them:  and I will bring him near, and he
shall come to me:  for who is this that setteth his heart to approach to
me, saith the Lord?
30:22. And you shall be my people:  and I will be your God.
30:23. Behold the whirlwind of the Lord, his fury going forth, a
violent storm, it shall rest upon the head of the wicked.
30:24. The Lord will not turn away the wrath of his indignation, till
he have executed and performed the thought of his heart:  in the latter
days you shall understand these things.
Jeremias Chapter 31
The restoration of Israel.  Rachel shall cease from morning.  The new
covenant.  The church shall never fail.
31:1. At that time, saith the Lord, I will be the God of all the
families of Israel, and they shall be my people.
31:2. Thus saith the Lord:  The people that were left and escaped from
the sword, found grace in the desert:  Israel shall go to his rest.
31:3. The Lord hath appeared from afar to me.  Yea I have loved thee
with an everlasting love, therefore have I drawn thee, taking pity on
31:4. And I will build thee again, and thou shalt be built, O virgin of
Israel:  thou shalt again be adorned with thy timbrels, and shalt go
forth in the dances of them that make merry.
31:5. Thou shalt yet plant vineyards in the mountains of Samaria:  the
planters shall plant, and they shall not gather the vintage before the
31:6. For there shall be a day, in which the watchmen on mount Ephraim,
shall cry:  Arise, and let us go up to Sion to the Lord our God.
31:7. For thus saith the Lord:  Rejoice ye in the joy of Jacob, and
neigh before the head of the Gentiles:  shout ye, and sing, and say:
Save, O Lord, thy people, the remnant of Israel.
31:8. Behold I will bring them from the north country, and will gather
them from the ends of the earth and among them shall be the blind, and
the lame, the woman with child, and she that is bringing forth,
together, a great company of them returning hither.
31:9. They shall come with weeping:  and I will bring them back in
mercy:  and I will bring them through the torrents of waters in a right
way, and they shall not stumble in it:  for I am a father to Israel, and
Ephraim is my firstborn.
31:10. Hear the word of the Lord, O ye nations, and declare it in the
islands that are afar off, and say:  He that scattered Israel will
gather him:  and he will keep him as the shepherd doth his flock.
31:11. For the Lord hath redeemed Jacob, and delivered him out of the
hand of one that was mightier than he.
31:12. And they shall come, and shall give praise in mount Sion:  and
they shall flow together to the good things of the Lord, for the corn,
and wine, and oil, and the increase of cattle and herds, and their soul
shall be as a watered garden, and they shall be hungry no more.
31:13. Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance, the young men and
old men together:  and I will turn their mourning into joy, and will
comfort them, and make them joyful after their sorrow.
31:14. And I will fill the soul of the priests with fatness:  and my
people shall be filled with my good things, saith the Lord.
31:15. Thus saith the Lord:  A voice was heard on high of lamentation,
of mourning, and weeping, of Rachel weeping for her children and
refusing to be comforted for them, because they are not.
31:16. Thus saith the Lord:  Let thy voice cease from weeping, and thy
eyes tears:  for there is a reward for thy work, saith the Lord:  and
they shall return out of the land of the enemy.
31:17. And there is hope for thy last end, saith the Lord:  and the
children shall return to their own borders.
31:18. Hearing I heard Ephraim when he went into captivity:  thou hast
chastised me, and I was instructed, as a young bullock unaccustomed to
the yoke.  Convert me, and I shall be converted, for thou art the Lord
31:19. For after thou didst convert me, I did penance:  and after thou
didst shew unto me, I struck my thigh:  I am confounded and ashamed,
because I have borne the reproach of my youth.
31:20. Surely Ephraim is an honourable son to me, surely he is a tender
child:  for since I spoke of him, I will still remember him.  Therefore
are my bowels troubled for him:  pitying I will pity him, saith the
31:21. Set thee up a watchtower, make to thee bitterness:  direct thy
heart into the right way, wherein thou hast walked:  return, O virgin of
Israel, return to these thy cities.
31:22. How long wilt thou be dissolute in deliciousness, O wandering
daughter?  for the Lord hath created a new thing upon the earth:  A WOMAN
SHALL COMPASS A MAN.
31:23. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel:  As yet shall
they say this word in the land of Juda, and in the cities thereof, when
I shall bring back their captivity:  The Lord bless thee, the beauty of
justice, the holy mountain.
31:24. And Juda and all his cities shall dwell therein together:  the
husbandman and they that drive the flocks.
31:25. For I have inebriated the weary soul:  and I have filled every
hungry soul.
31:26. Upon this I was as it were awaked out of a sleep, and I saw, and
my sleep was sweet to me.
31:27. Behold the days come, saith the Lord:  and I will sow the house
of Israel and the house of Juda with the seed of men, and with the seed
31:28. And as I have watched over them, to pluck up, and to throw down,
and to scatter, and destroy, and afflict:  so will I watch over them, to
build up, and to plant them, saith the Lord.
31:29. In those days they shall say no more:  The fathers have eaten a
sour grape, and the teeth of the children are set on edge.
31:30. But every one shall die for his own iniquity:  every man that
shall eat the sour grape, his teeth shall be set on edge.
31:31. Behold the days shall come, saith the Lord, and I will make a
new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the house of Juda:
31:32. Not according to the covenant which I made with their fathers,
in the day that I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land
of Egypt, the covenant which they made void, and I had dominion over
them, saith the Lord.
31:33. But this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house
of Israel, after those days, saith the Lord:  I will give my law in
their bowels, and I will write it in their heart:  and I will be their
God, and they shall be my people.
31:34. And they shall teach no more every man his neighbour, and every
man his brother, saying:  Know the Lord:  for all shall know me from the
least of them even to the greatest, saith the Lord:  for I will forgive
their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.
31:35. Thus saith the Lord, who giveth the sun for the light of the
day, the order of the moon and of the stars, for the light of the
night:  who stirreth up the sea, and the waves thereof roar, the Lord of
hosts is his name.
31:36. If these ordinances shall fail before me, saith the Lord:  then
also the seed of Israel shall fail, so as not to be a nation before me
31:37. Thus saith the Lord:  If the heavens above can be measured, and
the foundations of the earth searched out beneath, I also will cast
away all the seed of Israel, for all that they have done, saith the
31:38. Behold the days come, saith the Lord, that the city shall be
built to the Lord from the tower of Hanameel even to the gate of the
31:39. And the measuring line shall go out farther in his sight upon
the hill Gareb:  and it shall compass Goatha,
31:40. And the whole valley of dead bodies, and of ashes, and all the
country of death, even to the torrent Cedron, and to the corner of the
horse gate towards the east, the Holy of the Lord:  it shall not be
plucked up, and it shall not be destroyed any more for ever.
Jeremias Chapter 32
Jeremias by God's commandment purchases a field of his kinsman:  and
prophesies the return of the people out of captivity:  and the
everlasting covenant God will make with his church.
32:1. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord in the tenth year of
Sedecias king of Juda:  the same is the eighteenth year of
Nabuchodonosor.
32:2. At that time the army of the king of Babylon besieged Jerusalem:
and Jeremias the prophet was shut up in the court of the prison, which
was in the house of the king of Juda.
32:3. For Sedecias king of Juda had shut him up, saying:  Why dost thou
prophesy, saying:  Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will give this city
into the hand of the king of Babylon, and he shall take it?
32:4. And Sedecias king of Juda shall not escape out of the hand of the
Chaldeans:  but he shall be delivered into the hands of the king of
Babylon:  and he shall speak to him mouth to mouth, and his eyes shall
see his eyes.
32:5. And he shall lead Sedecias to Babylon:  and he shall be there till
I visit him, saith the Lord.  But if you will fight against the
Chaldeans, you shall have no success.
32:6. And Jeremias said:  The word of the Lord came to me, saying:
32:7. Behold, Hanameel the son of Sellum thy cousin shall come to thee,
saying:  Buy thee my field, which is in Anathoth, for it is thy right to
buy it, being next akin.
32:8. And Hanameel my uncle's son came to me, according to the word of
the Lord, to the entry of the prison, and said to me:  Buy my field,
which is in Anathoth in the land of Benjamin:  for the right of
inheritance is thine, and thou art next of kin to possess it.  And I
understood that this was the word of the Lord.
32:9. And I bought the field of Hanameel my uncle's son, that is in
Anathoth:  and I weighed him the money, seven staters, and ten pieces of
32:10. And I wrote it in a book and sealed it, and took witnesses:  and
I weighed him the money in the balances.
32:11. And I took the deed of the purchase that was sealed, and the
stipulations, and the ratifications with the seals that were on the
32:12. And I gave the deed of the purchase to Baruch the son of Neri
the son of Maasias in the sight of Hanameel my uncle's son, in the
presence of the witnesses that subscribed the book of the purchase, and
before all the Jews that sat in the court of the prison.
32:13. And I charged Baruch before them, saying:
32:14. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Take these
writings, this deed of the purchase that is sealed up, and this deed
that is open:  and put them in an earthen vessel, that they may continue
32:15. For thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Houses, and
fields, and vineyards shall be possessed again in this land.
32:16. And after I had delivered the deed of purchase to Baruch the son
of Neri, I prayed to the Lord, saying:
32:17. Alas, alas, alas, O Lord God, behold thou hast made heaven and
earth by thy great power, and thy stretched out arm:  no word shall be
hard to thee:
32:18. Thou shewest mercy unto thousands, and returnest the iniquity of
the fathers into the bosom of their children after them:  O most mighty,
great, and powerful, the Lord of hosts is thy name.
32:19. Great in counsel, and incomprehensible in thought:  whose eyes
are open upon all the ways of the children of Adam, to render unto
every one according to his ways, and according to the fruit of his
32:20. Who hast set signs and wonders in the land of Egypt even until
this day, and in Israel, and amongst men, and hast made thee a name as
at this day.
32:21. And hast brought forth thy people Israel, out of the land of
Egypt with signs, and with wonders, and with a strong hand, and a
stretched out arm, and with great terror.
32:22. And hast given them this land which thou didst swear to their
fathers, to give them a land flowing with milk and honey.
32:23. And they came in, and possessed it:  but they obeyed not thy
voice, and they walked not in thy law:  and they did not any of those
things that thou didst command them to do, and all these evils are come
32:24. Behold works are built up against the city to take it:  and the
city is given into the hands of the Chaldeans, who fight against it, by
the sword, and the famine, and the pestilence:  and what thou hast
spoken, is all come to pass, as thou thyself seest.
32:25. And sayest thou to me, O Lord God:  Buy a field for money, and
take witnesses, whereas the city is given into the hands of the
32:26. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias, saying:
32:27. Behold I am the Lord the God of all flesh:  shall any thing be
hard for me?
32:28. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will deliver this city
into the hands of the Chaldeans, and into the hands of the king of
Babylon, and they shall take it.
32:29. And the Chaldeans that fight against this city, shall come and
set it on fire, and burn it, with the houses upon whose roofs they
offered sacrifice to Baal, and poured out drink offerings to strange
gods, to provoke me to wrath.
32:30. For the children of Israel, and the children of Juda, have
continually done evil in my eyes from their youth:  the children of
Israel who even till now provoke me with the work of their hands, saith
32:31. For this city hath been to me a provocation and indignation from
the day that they built it, until this day, in which it shall be taken
out of my sight.
32:32. Because of all the evil of the children of Israel, and of the
children of Juda, which they have done, provoking me to wrath, they and
their kings, their princes, and their priests, and their prophets, the
men of Juda, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
32:33. And they have turned their backs to me, and not their faces:
when I taught them early in the morning, and instructed them, and they
would not hearken to receive instruction.
32:34. And they have set their idols in the house, in which my name is
called upon, to defile it.
32:35. And they have built the high places of Baal, which are in the
valley of the son of Ennom, to consecrate their sons and their
daughters to Moloch:  which I commanded them not, neither entered it
into my heart, that they should do this abomination, and cause Juda to
32:36. And now, therefore, thus saith the Lord the God of Israel to
this city, whereof you say that it shall be delivered into the hands of
the king of Babylon by the sword, and by famine, and by pestilence:
32:37. Behold I will gather them together out of all the lands to which
I have cast them out in my anger, and in my wrath, and in my great
indignation:  and I will bring them again into this place, and will
cause them to dwell securely.
32:38. And they shall be my people, and I will be their God.
32:39. And I will give them one heart, and one way, that they may fear
me all days:  and that it may be well with them, and with their children
32:40. And I will make an everlasting covenant with them, and will not
cease to do them good:  and I will give my fear in their heart, that
they may not revolt from me.
32:41. And I will rejoice over them, when I shall do them good:  and I
will plant them in this land in truth, with my whole heart, and with
all my soul.
32:42. For thus saith the Lord:  As I have brought upon this people all
this great evil:  so will I bring upon them all the good that I now
speak to them.
32:43. And fields shall be purchased in this land:  whereof you say that
it is desolate, because there remaineth neither man nor beast, and it
is given into the hands of the Chaldeans.
32:44. Fields shall be bought for money, and deeds shall be written,
and sealed, and witnesses shall be taken, in the land of Benjamin, and
round about Jerusalem, in the cities of Juda, and in the cities on the
mountains, and in the cities of the plains, and in the cities that are
towards the south:  for I will bring back their captivity, saith the
Jeremias Chapter 33
God promises reduction from captivity, and other blessings:  especially
the coming of Christ, whose reign in his church shall be glorious and
33:1. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias the second time, while
he was yet shut up in the court of the prison, saying:
33:2. Thus saith the Lord, who will do, and will form it, and prepare
it, the Lord is his name.
33:3. Cry to me and I will hear thee:  and I will shew thee great
things, and sure things which thou knowest not.
33:4. For thus saith the Lord the God of Israel to the houses of this
city, and to the houses of the king of Juda, which are destroyed, and
to the bulwarks, and to the sword.
33:5. Of them that come to fight with the Chaldeans, and to fill them
with the dead bodies of the men whom I have slain in my wrath, and in
my indignation, hiding my face from this city because of all their
33:6. Behold I will close their wounds and give them health, and I will
cure them:  and I will reveal to them the prayer of peace and truth.
The prayer of peace. . .That is, the peace and welfare which they pray
33:7. And I will bring back the captivity of Juda, and the captivity of
Jerusalem:  and I will build them as from the beginning.
33:8. And I will cleanse them from all their iniquity, whereby they
have sinned against me:  and I will forgive all their iniquities,
whereby they have sinned against me, and despised me.
33:9. And it shall be to me a name, and a joy, and a praise, and a
gladness before all the nations of the earth, that shall hear of all
the good things which I will do to them:  and they shall fear and be
troubled for all the good things, and for all the peace that I will
make for them.
33:10. Thus saith the Lord:  There shall be heard again in this place
(which you say is desolate, because there is neither man nor beast:  in
the cities of Juda, and without Jerusalem, which are desolate without
man, and without inhabitant, and without beast)
33:11. The voice of joy and the voice of gladness, the voice of the
bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the voice of them that shall
say:  Give ye glory to the Lord of hosts, for the Lord is good, for his
mercy endureth for ever:  and of them that shall bring their vows into
the house of the Lord:  for I will bring back the captivity of the land
as at the first, saith the Lord.
33:12. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  There shall be again in this place
that is desolate without man, and without beast, and in all the cities
thereof, an habitation of shepherds causing their flocks to lie down.
33:13. And in the cities on the mountains, and in the cities of the
plains, and in the cities that are towards the south:  and in the land
of Benjamin, and round about Jerusalem, and in the cities of Juda shall
the flocks pass again under the hand of him that numbereth them, saith
33:14. Behold the days come, saith the Lord, that I will perform the
good word that I have spoken to the house of Israel, and to the house
33:15. In those days, and at that time, I will make the bud of justice
to spring forth unto David, and he shall do judgment and justice in the
33:16. In those days shall Juda be saved, and Jerusalem shall dwell
securely:  and this is the name that they shall call him, The Lord our
33:17. For thus saith the Lord:  There shall not be cut off from David a
man to sit upon the throne of the house of Israel.
There shall not be cut off from David, etc. . .This was verified in
Christ, who is of the house of David; and whose kingdom in his church
shall have no end.
33:18. Neither shall there be cut off from the priests and Levites a
man before my face to offer holocausts, and to burn sacrifices, and to
kill victims continually.
Neither shall there be cut off from the priests, etc. . .This promise
relates to the Christian priesthood; which shall also continue for
ever:  the functions of which (more especially the great sacrifice of
the altar) are here expressed by the name of holocausts, and other
offerings of the law, which were so many figures of the Christian
33:19. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias, saying:
33:20. Thus saith the Lord:  if my covenant, with the day can be made
void, and my covenant with the night, that there should not be day and
night in their season:
33:21. Also my covenant with David my servant may be made void, that he
should not have a son to reign upon his throne, and with the Levites
and priests my ministers.
33:22. As the stars of heaven cannot be numbered, nor the sand of the
sea be measured:  so will I multiply the seed of David my servant, and
the Levites my ministers.
33:23. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias, saying:
33:24. Hast thou not seen what this people hath spoken, saying:  The two
families which the Lord had chosen, are cast off:  and they have
despised my people, so that it is no more a nation before them?
Two families, etc. . .Viz., the families of the kings and priests.
33:25. Thus saith the Lord.  If I have not set my covenant between day
and night, and laws to heaven and earth:
33:26. Surely I will also cast off the seed of Jacob, and of David my
servant, so as not to take any of his seed to be rulers of the seed of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob:  for I will bring back their captivity, and
will have mercy on them.
Jeremias Chapter 34
The prophet foretells that Sedecias shall fall into the hands of
Nabuchodonosor:  God's sentence upon the princes and people that had
broken his covenant.
34:1. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord, when Nabuchodonosor
king of Babylon, and all his army, and all the kingdoms of the earth,
that were under the power of his hand, and all the people fought
against Jerusalem and against all the cities thereof, saying:
34:2. Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:  Go, and speak to Sedecias
king of Juda, and say to him:  Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will
deliver this city into the hands of the king of Babylon, and he shall
burn it with fire.
34:3. And thou shalt not escape out of his hand:  but thou shalt surely
be taken, and thou shalt be delivered into his hand:  and thy eyes shall
see the eyes of the king of Babylon, and his mouth shall speak with thy
mouth, and thou shalt go to Babylon.
34:4. Yet hear the word of the Lord, O Sedecias king of Juda:  Thus
saith the Lord to thee:  Thou shalt not die by the sword.
34:5. But thou shalt die in peace, and according to the burnings of thy
fathers, the former kings that were before thee, so shall they burn
thee:  and they shall mourn for thee, saying:  Alas, Lord:  for I have
spoken the word, saith the Lord.
Die in peace. . .That is, by a natural death.
34:6. And Jeremias the prophet spoke all these words to Sedecias the
king of Juda in Jerusalem.
34:7. And the army of the king of Babylon fought against Jerusalem, and
against all the cities of Juda that were left, against Lachis, and
against Azecha:  for these remained of the cities of Juda, fenced
34:8. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord, after that king
Sedecias had made a covenant with all the people in Jerusalem making a
proclamation:
34:9. That every man should let his manservant, and every man his
maidservant, being Hebrew man or a Hebrew woman, go free:  and that they
should not lord it over them, to wit, over the Jews their brethren.
34:10. And all the princes, and all the people who entered into the
covenant, heard that every man should let his manservant, and every man
his maidservant go free, and should no more have dominion over them:
and they obeyed, and let them go free.
34:11. But afterwards they turned:  and brought back again their
servants and their handmaids, whom they had let go free, and brought
them into subjection as menservants and maidservants.
34:12. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias from the Lord, saying:
34:13. Thus saith the Lord the God of Israel:  I made a covenant with
your fathers in the day that I brought them out of the land of Egypt,
out of the house of bondage, saying:
34:14. At the end of seven years, let ye go every man his brother being
a Hebrew, who hath been sold to thee, so he shall serve thee six years:
and thou shalt let him go free from thee:  and your fathers did not
hearken to me, nor did they incline their ear.
34:15. And you turned to day, and did that which was right in my eyes,
in proclaiming liberty every one to his brother:  and you made a
covenant in my sight, in the house upon which my name is invocated.
34:16. And you are fallen back, and have defiled my name:  and you have
brought back again every man his manservant, and every man his
maidservant, whom you had let go free, and set at liberty:  and you have
brought them into subjection to be your servants and handmaids.
34:17. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  You have not hearkened to me, in
proclaiming liberty every man to his brother and every man to his
friend:  behold I proclaim a liberty for you, saith the Lord, to the
sword, to the pestilence, and to the famine:  and I will cause you to be
removed to all the kingdoms of the earth.
34:18. And I will give the men that have transgressed my covenant, and
have not performed the words of the covenant which they agreed to in my
presence, when they cut the calf in two and passed between the parts
34:19. The princes of Juda, and the princes of Jerusalem, the eunuchs,
and the priests, and all the people of the land that passed between the
parts of the calf:
34:20. And I will give them into the hands of their enemies, and into
the hands of them that seek their life:  and their dead bodies shall be
for meat to the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the earth.
34:21. And Sedecias the king of Juda, and his princes, I will give into
the hands of their enemies, and into the hands of them that seek their
lives, and into the hands of the armies of the king of Babylon, which
are gone from you.
34:22. Behold I will command, saith the Lord, and I will bring them
again to this city, and they shall fight against it, and take it, and
burn it with fire:  and I will make the cities of Juda a desolation,
without an inhabitant.
Jeremias Chapter 35
The obedience of the Rechabites condemns the disobedience of the Jews.
The reward of the Rechabites.
35:1. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord in the days of
Joakim the son of Josias king of Juda, saying:
35:2. Go to the house of the Rechabites:  and speak to them, and bring
them into the house of the Lord, into one of the chambers of the
treasures, and thou shalt give them wine to drink.
Rechabites. . .These were of the race of Jethro, father in law to Moses.
35:3. And I took Jezonias the son of Jeremias the son of Habsanias, and
his brethren, and all his sons, and the whole house of the Rechabites.
35:4. And I brought them into the house of the Lord, to the treasure
house of the sons of Hanan, the son of Jegedelias the man of God, which
was by the treasure house of the princes, above the treasure of Maasias
the son of Sellum, who was keeper of the entry.
35:5. And I set before the sons of the house of the Rechabites pots
full of wine, and cups:  and I said to them:  Drink ye wine.
35:6. And they answered :  We will not drink wine:  because Jonadab the
son of Rechab, our father, commanded us, saying:  You shall drink no
wine, neither you, nor your children, for ever:
35:7. Neither shall ye build houses, nor sow reed, nor plant vineyards,
nor have any:  but you shall dwell in tents all your days, that you may
live many days upon the face of the earth, in which you are strangers.
35:8. Therefore we have obeyed the voice of Jonadab the son of Rechab,
our father, in all things that he commanded us:  so as to drink no wine
all our days:  neither we, nor our wives, nor our sons, nor our
35:9. Nor to build houses to dwell in, nor to have vineyard, or field,
35:10. But we have dwelt in tents, and have been obedient according to
all that Jonadab our father commanded us.
35:11. But when Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon came up to our land, we
said:  Come, let us go into Jerusalem from the face of the army of the
Chaldeans, and from the face of the army of Syria:  and we have remained
in Jerusalem.
35:12. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias, saying:
35:13. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Go, and say to
the men of Juda, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem:  Will you not
receive instruction, to obey my words, saith the Lord?
35:14. The words of Jonadab the son of Rechab, by which he commanded
his sons not to drink wine, have prevailed:  and they have drunk none to
this day, because they have obeyed the commandment of their father:  but
I have spoken to you, rising early and speaking, and you have not
35:15. And I have sent to you all my servants the prophets, rising
early, and sending and saying:  Return ye every man from his wicked way,
and make your ways good:  and follow not strange gods, nor worship them,
and you shall dwell in the land, which I gave you and your fathers:  and
you have not inclined your ear, nor hearkened to me.
35:16. So the sons of Jonadab the son of Rechab have constantly kept
the commandment of their father, which he commanded them:  but this
people hath not obeyed me.
35:17. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Behold
I will bring upon Juda, and upon all the inhabitants of Jerusalem all
the evil that I have pronounced against them, because I have spoken to
them, and they have not heard:  I have called to them, and they have not
answered me.
35:18. And Jeremias said to the house of the Rechabites:  Thus saith the
Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Because you have obeyed the
commandment of Jonadab your father, and have kept all his precepts, and
have done all that he commanded you:
35:19. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  There
shall not be wanting a man of the race of Jonadab the son of Rechab,
standing before me for ever.
Jeremias Chapter 36
Jeremias sends Baruch to read his prophecies in the temple; the book is
brought to king Joakim, who burns it.  The prophet denounces his
judgment, and causes Baruch to write a new copy.
36:1. And it came to pass in the fourth year of Joakim the son of
Josias king of Juda, that this word came to Jeremias by the Lord,
36:2. Take thee a roll of a book, and thou shalt write in it all the
words that I have spoken to thee against Israel and Juda, and against
all the nations from the day that I spoke to thee, from the days of
Josias even to this day.
36:3. If so be, when the house of Juda shall hear all the evils that I
purpose to do unto them, that they may return every man from his wicked
way:  and I will forgive their iniquity, and their sin.
36:4. So Jeremias called Baruch the son of Nerias:  and Baruch wrote
from the mouth of Jeremias all the words of the Lord, which he spoke to
him, upon the roll of a book.
36:5. And Jeremias commanded Baruch, saying:  I am shut up, and cannot
go into the house of the Lord.
Shut up. . .Not that the prophet was now in prison; for the contrary
appears from ver. 19, but that he kept himself shut up, by reason of
the persecutions he had lately met with.  See chap. 26.
36:6. Go thou in therefore, and read out of the volume, which thou hast
written from my mouth, the words of the Lord, in the hearing of all the
people in the house of the Lord on the fasting day:  and also thou shalt
read them in the hearing of all Juda that come out of their cities:
36:7. If so be they may present their supplication before the Lord, and
may return every one from his wicked way:  for great is the wrath and
indignation which the Lord hath pronounced against this people.
36:8. And Baruch the son of Nerias did according to all that Jeremias
the prophet ,had commanded him, reading out of the volume the words of
the Lord in the house of the Lord.
36:9. And it came to pass in the fifth year of Joakim the son of Josias
king of Juda, in the ninth month, that they proclaimed a fast before
the Lord to all the people in Jerusalem, and to all the people that
were come together out of the cities of Juda to Jerusalem.
36:10. And Baruch read out of the volume the words of Jeremias in the
house of the Lord, in the treasury of Gamarias the son of Saphan the
scribe, in the upper court, in the entry of the new gate of the house
of the Lord, in the hearing of all the people.
36:11. And when Micheas the son of Gamarias the son of Saphan had heard
out of the book all the words of the Lord,
36:12. He went down into the king's house to the secretary's chamber:
and behold all the princes sat there, Elisama the scribe, and Dalaias
the son of Semeias, and Elnathan the son of Achobor, and Gamarias the
son of Saphan, and Sedecias the son of Hananias, and all the princes.
36:13. And Micheas told them all the words that he had heard when
Baruch read out of the volume in the hearing of the people.
36:14. Therefore all the princes sent Judi the son of Nathanias, the
son of Selemias, the son of Chusi, to Baruch, saying:  Take in thy hand
the volume in which thou hast read in the hearing of the people, and
come.  So Baruch the son of Nerias took the volume in his hand, and came
36:15. And they said to him:  Sit down and read these things in our
hearing.  And Baruch read in their hearing.
36:16. And when they had heard all the words, they looked upon one
another with astonishment, and they said to Baruch:  We must tell the
king all these words.
36:17. And they asked him, saying:  Tell us how didst thou write all
these words from his mouth.
36:18. And Baruch said to them:  With his mouth he pronounced all these
words as if he were reading to me:  and I wrote in a volume with ink.
36:19. And the princes said to Baruch:  Go, and hide thee, both thou and
Jeremias, and let no man know where you are.
36:20. And they went in to the king into the court:  but they laid up
the volume in the chamber of Elisama the scribe:  and they told all the
words in the hearing of the king.
36:21. And the king sent Judi that he should take the volume:  who
bringing it out of the chamber of Elisama the scribe, read it in the
hearing of the king, and of all the princes that stood about the king.
36:22. Now the king sat in the winter house, in the ninth month:  and
there was a hearth before him full of burning coals.
36:23. And when Judi had read three or four pages, he cut it with the
penknife, and he cast it into the fire, that was upon the hearth, till
all the volume was consumed with the fire that was on the hearth.
36:24. And the king and all his servants that heard all these words
were not afraid, nor did they rend their garments.
36:25. But yet Elnathan, and Dalaias, and Gamarias spoke to the king,
not to burn the book:  and he heard them not.
36:26. And the king commanded Jeremiel the son of Amelech, and Saraias
the son of Ezriel, and Selemias the son of Abdeel, to take up Baruch
the scribe, and Jeremias the prophet:  but the Lord hid them.
36:27. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias the prophet, after
that the king had burnt the volume, and the words that Baruch had
written from the mouth of Jeremias, saying:
36:28. Take thee again another volume:  and write in it all the former
words that were in the first volume which Joakim the king of Juda both
36:29. And thou shalt say to Joakim the king of Juda:  Thus saith the
Lord:  Thou hast burnt that volume, saying:  Why hast thou written
therein, and said:  The king of Babylon shall come speedily, and shall
lay waste this land:  and shall cause to cease from thence man and
36:30. Therefore thus saith the Lord against Joakim the king of Juda:
He shall have none to sit upon the throne of David:  and his dead body
shall be cast out to the heat by day, and to the frost by night.
He shall have none, etc. . .Because his son Joachin or Jechonias, within
three months after the death of his father, was carried away to
Babylon, so that his reign is not worthy of notice.
36:31. And I will punish him, and his seed and his servants, for their
iniquities, and I will bring upon them, and upon the inhabitants of
Jerusalem, and upon the men of Juda all the evil that I have pronounced
against them, but they have not heard.
36:32. And Jeremias took another volume, and gave it to Baruch the son
of Nerias the scribe:  who wrote in it from the mouth of Jeremias all
the words of the book which Joakim the king of Juda had burnt with
fire:  and there were added besides many more words than had been
Jeremias Chapter 37
Jeremias prophesies that the Chaldeans, who had departed from
Jerusalem, would return and burn the city.  He is cast into prison.  His
conference with Sedecias.
37:1. Now king Sedecias the son of Josias reigned instead of Jechonias
the son of Joakim:  whom Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon made king in the
land of Juda.
37:2. But neither he, nor his servants, nor the people of the land did
obey the words of the Lord, that he spoke in the hand of Jeremias the
37:3. And king Sedecias sent Juchal the son of Selemias, and Sophonias
the son of Maasias the priest to Jeremias the prophet, saying:  Pray to
the Lord our God for us.
37:4. Now Jeremias walked freely in the midst of the people:  for they
had not as yet cast him into prison.  And the army of Pharao was come
out of Egypt:  and the Chaldeans that besieged Jerusalem, hearing these
tidings, departed from Jerusalem.
37:5. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias the prophet, saying:
37:6. Thus saith the Lord the God of Israel:  Thus shall you say to the
king of Juda, who sent you to inquire of me:  Behold the army of Pharao,
which is come forth to help you, shall return into their own land, into
37:7. And the Chaldeans shall come again, and fight against this city,
and take it, and burn it with fire.
37:8. Thus saith the Lord:  Deceive not your souls, saying:  The
Chaldeans shall surely depart and go away from us:  for they shall not
37:9. But if you should even beat all the army of the Chaldeans that
fight against you, and there should be left of them some wounded men:
they shall rise up, every man from his heart, and burn this city with
37:10. Now when the army of the Chaldeans was gone away from Jerusalem,
because of Pharao's army,
37:11. Jeremias went forth out of Jerusalem to go into the land of
Benjamin:  and to divide a possession there in the presence of the
37:12. And when he was come to the gate of Benjamin, the captain of the
gate, who was there in his turn, was one named Jerias, the son of
Selemias, the son of Hananias:  and he took hold of Jeremias the
prophet, saying:  Thou art fleeing to the Chaldeans.
37:13. And Jeremias answered:  It is not so, I am not fleeing to the
Chaldeans.  But he hearkened not to him:  so Jerias took Jeremias and
brought him to the princes.
37:14. Wherefore the princes were angry with Jeremias, and they beat
him, and cast him into the prison that was in the house of Jonathan the
scribe:  for he was chief over the prison.
37:15. So Jeremias went into the house of the prison, and into the
dungeon:  and Jeremias remained there many days.
37:16. Then Sedecias the king, sending, took him:  and asked him
secretly in his house, and said:  Is there, thinkest thou, any word from
the Lord?  And Jeremias said.  There is.  And he said:  Thou shalt be
delivered into the hands of the king of Babylon.
37:17. And Jeremias said to king Sedecias:  In what have I offended
against thee, or thy servants, or thy people, that thou hast cast me
into prison?
37:18. Where are your prophets that prophesied to you, and said:  The
king of Babylon shall not come against you, and against this land?
37:19. Now therefore hear, I beseech thee, my lord the king:  let my
petition be accepted in thy sight:  and send me not back into the house
of Jonathan the scribe, lest I die there.
37:20. Then king Sedecias commanded that Jeremias should be committed
into the entry of the prison:  and that they should give him daily a
piece of bread, beside broth, till all the bread in the city were
spent:  and Jeremias remained in the entry of the prison.
Jeremias Chapter 38
The prophet at the instance of the great men is cast into a filthy
dungeon:  he is drawn out by Abdemelech, and has another conference with
38:1. Now Saphatias the son of Mathan, and Gedelias the son of Phassur,
and Juchal the son of Selemias, and Phassur the son of Melchias heard
the words that Jeremias spoke to all the people, saying:
38:2. Thus saith the Lord:  Whosoever shall remain in this city, shall
die by the sword, and by famine, and by pestilence:  but he that shall
go forth to the Chaldeans, shall live, and his life shall be safe, and
he shall live.
38:3. Thus saith the Lord:  This city shall surely be delivered into the
hand of the army of the king of Babylon, and he shall take it.
38:4. And the princes said to the king.  We beseech thee that this man
may be put to death:  for on purpose he weakeneth the hands of the men
of war, that remain in this city, and the hands of the people, speaking
to them according to these words:  for this man seeketh not peace to
this people, but evil.
38:5. And king Sedecias said:  Behold he is in your hands:  for it is not
lawful for the king to deny you any thing.
38:6. Then they took Jeremias and cast him into the dungeon of Melchias
the son of Amelech, which was in the entry of the prison:  and they let
down Jeremias by ropes into the dungeon, wherein there was no water,
but mire.  And Jeremias sunk into the mire.
38:7. Now Abdemelech the Ethiopian, an eunuch that was in the king's
house, heard that they had put Jeremias in the dungeon:  but the king
was sitting in the gate of Benjamin.
38:8. And Abdemelech went out of the king's house, and spoke to the
king, saying:
38:9. My lord the king, these men have done evil in all that they have
done against Jeremias the prophet, casting him into the dungeon to die
there with hunger, for there is no more bread in the city.
38:10. Then the king commanded Abdemelech the Ethiopian, saying:  Take
from hence thirty men with thee, and draw up Jeremias the prophet out
of the dungeon, before he die.
38:11. So Abdemelech taking the men with him, went into the king's
house that was under the storehouse:  and he took from thence old rags,
and old rotten things, and he let them down by cords to Jeremias into
the dungeon.
38:12. And Abdemelech the Ethiopian said to Jeremias:  Put these old
rags and these rent and rotten things under thy arms, and upon the
cords:  and Jeremias did so.
38:13. And they drew up Jeremias with the cords, and brought him forth
out of the dungeon.  And Jeremias remained in the entry of the prison.
38:14. And king Sedecias sent, and took Jeremias the prophet to him to
the third gate, that was in the house of the Lord:  and the king said to
Jeremias:  I will ask thee a thing, hide nothing from me.
38:15. Then Jeremias said to Sedecias:  If I shall declare it to thee,
wilt thou not put me to death?  and if I give thee counsel, thou wilt
not hearken to me.
38:16. Then king Sedecias swore to Jeremias, in private, saying:  As the
Lord liveth, that, made us this soul, I will not put thee to death, nor
will I deliver thee into the hands of these men that seek thy life.
38:17. And Jeremias said to Sedecias:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts the
God of Israel:  If thou wilt take a resolution and go out to the princes
of the king of Babylon, thy soul shall live, and this city shall not be
burnt with fire:  and thou shalt be safe, and thy house.
38:18. But if thou wilt not go out to the princes of the king of
Babylon, this city shall be delivered into the hands of the Chaldeans,
and they shall burn it with fire:  and thou shalt not escape out of
38:19. And king Sedecias said to Jeremias:  I am afraid because of the
Jews that are fled over to the Chaldeans:  lest I should be delivered
into their hands, and they should abuse me.
38:20. But Jeremias answered:  They shall not deliver thee:  hearken, I
beseech thee, to the word of the Lord, which I speak to the, and it
shall be well with thee, and thy soul shall live.
38:21. But if thou wilt not go forth, this is the word which the Lord
hath shewn me:
38:22. Behold all the women that are left in the house of the king of
Juda, shall be brought out to the princes of the king of Babylon:  and
they shall say:  Thy men of peace have deceived thee, and have prevailed
against thee, they have plunged thy feet in the mire, and in a slippery
place and they have departed from thee.
Thy men of peace. . .Viri pacifici tui.  That is thy false friends
promising thee peace and happiness, and by their evil counsels
involving thee in misery.
38:23. And all thy wives, and thy children shall be brought out to the
Chaldeans, and thou shalt not escape their hands, but thou shalt be
taken by the hand of the king of Babylon:  and he shall burn this city
38:24. Then Sedecias said to Jeremias:  Let no man know these words, and
thou shalt not die.
38:25. But if the princes shall hear that I have spoken with thee, and
shall come to thee, and say to thee:  Tell us what thou hast said to the
king, hide it not from us, and we will not kill thee:  and also what the
king said to thee:
38:26. Thou shalt say to them:  I presented my supplication before the
king, that he would not command me to be carried back into the house of
Jonathan, to die there.
38:27. So all the princes came to Jeremias, and asked him:  and he spoke
to them according to all the words that the king had commanded him:  and
they left him:  for nothing had been heard.
38:28. But Jeremias remained in the entry of the prison, until the day
that Jerusalem was taken:  and it came to pass that Jerusalem was taken.
Jeremias Chapter 39
After two years' siege Jerusalem is taken.  Sedecias is carried before
Nabuchodonosor, who kills his sons in his sight, and then puts out his
eyes.  Jeremias is set at liberty.
39:1. In the ninth year of Sedecias king of Juda, in the tenth month,
came Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon, and all his army to Jerusalem, and
they besieged it.
39:2. And in the eleventh year of Sedecias, in the fourth month, the
fifth day of the month, the city was opened.
39:3. And all the princes of the king of Babylon came in, and sat in
the middle gate:  Neregel, Sereser, Semegarnabu, Sarsachim, Rabsares,
Neregel, Serezer, Rebmag, and all the rest of the princes of the king
39:4. And when Sedecias the king of Juda and all the men of war saw
them, they fled:  and they went forth in the night out of the city by
the way of the king's garden, and by the gate that was between the two
walls, and they went out to the way of the desert.
39:5. But the army of the Chaldeans pursued after them:  and they took
Sedecias in the plain of the desert of Jericho, and when they had taken
him, they brought him to Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon to Reblatha,
which is in the land of Emath:  and he gave judgment upon him.
39:6. And the king of Babylon slew the sons of Sedecias, in Reblatha,
before his eyes:  and the king of Babylon slew all the nobles of Juda.
39:7. He also put out the eyes of Sedecias:  and bound him with fetters,
to be carried to Babylon.
39:8. And the Chaldeans burnt the king's house, and the houses of the
people with fire, and they threw down the wall of Jerusalem.
39:9. And Nabuzardan the general of the army carried away captive to
Babylon the remnant of the people that remained in the city, and the
fugitives that had gone over to him, and the rest of the people that
39:10. But Nabuzardan the general left some of the poor people that had
nothing at all, in the land of Juda, and he gave them vineyards, and
cisterns at that time.
39:11. Now Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon had given charge to
Nabuzardan the general concerning Jeremias, saying:
39:12. Take him, and set thy eyes upon him, and do him no harm:  but as
he hath a mind, so do with him.
39:13. Therefore Nabuzardan the general sent, and Nabuzardan, and
Rabsares, and Neregel, and Sereser, and Rebmag, and all the nobles of
the king of Babylon,
39:14. Sent and took Jeremias out of the court of the prison, and
committed him to Godolias the son of Ahicam the son of Saphan, that he
might go home, and dwell among the people.
39:15. But the word of the Lord came to Jeremias, when he was yet shut
up in the court of the prison, saying:  Go, and tell Abdemelech the
Ethiopian, saying:
39:16. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Behold I will
bring my words upon this city unto evil, and not unto good:  and they
shall be accomplished in thy sight in that day.
39:17. And I will deliver thee in that day, saith the Lord:  and thou
shalt not be given into the hands of the men whom thou fearest:
39:18. But delivering, I will deliver thee, and thou shalt not fall by
the sword:  but thy life shall be saved for thee, because thou hast put
thy trust in me, saith the Lord.
Jeremias Chapter 40
Jeremias remains with Godolias the governor; who receives all the Jews
that resort to him.
40:1. The word that came to Jeremias from the Lord, after that
Nabuzardan the general had let him go from Rama, when he had taken him,
being bound with chains, among all them that were carried away from
Jerusalem and Juda, and were carried to Babylon.
40:2. And the general of the army taking Jeremias, said to him:  The
Lord thy God hath pronounced this evil upon this place,
40:3. And he hath brought it:  and the Lord hath done as he hath said:
because you have sinned against the Lord, and have not hearkened to his
voice, and this word is come upon you.
40:4. Now then behold I have loosed thee this day from the chains which
were upon thy hands:  if it please thee to come with me to Babylon,
come:  and I will set my eyes upon thee:  but if it do not please thee to
come with me to Babylon, stay here:  behold all the land is before thee,
as thou shalt choose, and whither it shall please thee to go, thither
40:5. And come not with me:  but dwell with Godolias the son of Ahicam
the son of Saphan, whom the king of Babylon hath made governor over the
cities of Juda:  dwell therefore with him in the midst of the people:  or
whithersoever it shall please thee to go, go.  And the general of the
army gave him victuals and presents, and let him go.
40:6. And Jeremias went to Godolias the son of Ahicam to Masphath:  and
dwelt with him in the midst of the people that were left in the land.
40:7. And when all the captains of the army that were scattered through
the countries, they and their companions, had heard that the king of
Babylon had made Godolias the son of Ahicam governor of the country,
and that he had committed unto him men and women, and children, and of
the poor of the land, them that had not been carried away captive to
40:8. They came to Godolias to Masphath:  and Ismahel the son of
Nathanias, and Johanan, and Jonathan, the sons of Caree, and Sareas the
son of Thanehumeth, and the children of Ophi, that were of Netophathi,
and Jezonias the son of Maachati, they and their men.
40:9. And Godolias the son of Ahicam the son of Saphan swore to them
and to their companions, saying:  Fear not to serve the Chaldeans:  dwell
in the land, and serve the king of Babylon, and it shall be well with
40:10. Behold I dwell in Masphath, that I may answer the commandment of
the Chaldeans that are sent to us:  but as for you, gather ye the
vintage, and the harvest, and the oil, and lay it up in your vessels,
and abide in your cities which you hold.
40:11. Moreover all the Jews that were in Moab, and among the children
of Ammon, and in Edom, and in all the countries, when they heard that
the king of Babylon had left a remnant in Judea, and that he had made
Godolias the son of Ahicam the son of Saphan ruler over them:
40:12. All the Jews, I say, returned out of all the places to which
they had fled, and they came into the land of Juda to Godolias to
Masphath:  and they gathered wine, and a very great harvest.
40:13. Then Johanan the son of Caree, and all the captains of the army,
that had been scattered about in the countries, came to Godolias to
40:14. And they said to him:  Know that Baalis the king of the children
of Ammon hath sent Ismahel the son of Nathanias to kill thee.  And
Godolias the son of Ahicam believed them not.
40:15. But Johanan the son of Caree, spoke to Godolias privately in
Masphath, saying:  I will go, and I will kill Ismahel the son of
Nathanias, and no man shall know it, lest he kill thee, and all the
Jews be scattered, that are gathered unto thee, and the remnant of Juda
40:16. And Godolias the son of Ahicam said to Johanan the son of Caree:
Do not this thing:  for what thou sayst of Ismahel is false.
Jeremias Chapter 41
Godolias is slain:  the Jews that were with him are apprehensive of the
41:1. And it came to pass in the seventh month, that Ismahel the son of
Nathanias, the son of Elisama of the royal blood, and the nobles of the
king, and ten men with him, came to Godolias the son of Ahicam into
Masphath:  and they ate bread there together in Masphath.
41:2. And Ismahel the son of Nathanias arose, and the ten men that were
with him, and they struck Godolias the son of Ahicam, the son of Saphan
with the sword, and slew him whom the king of Babylon had made governor
over the land.
41:3. Ismahel slew also all the Jews that were with Godolias in
Masphath, and the Chaldeans that were found there, and the soldiers.
41:4. And on the second day after he had killed Godolias, no man yet
41:5. There came some from Sichem, and from Silo, and from Samaria,
fourscore men, with their beards shaven, and their clothes rent, and
mourning:  and they had offerings and incense in their hand, to offer in
the house of the Lord.
41:6. And Ismahel the son of Nathanias went forth from Masphath to meet
them, weeping all along as he went:  and when he had met them, he said
to them:  Come to Godolias, the son of Ahicam.
41:7. And when they were come to the midst of the city, Ismahel the son
of Nathanias, slew them, and cast them into the midst of the pit, he
and the men that were with him.
41:8. But ten men were found among them, that said to Ismahel:  Kill us
not:  for we have stores in the field, of wheat, and barley, and oil,
and honey.  And he forbore, and slew them not with their brethren.
41:9. And the pit into which Ismahel cast all the dead bodies of the
men whom he slew because of Godolias, is the same that king Asa made,
for fear of Baasa the king of Israel:  the same did Ismahel the son of
Nathanias fill with them that were slain.
41:10. Then Ismahel carried away captive all the remnant of the people
that were in Masphath:  the king's daughters, and all the people that
remained in Masphath:  whom Nabuzardan the general of the army had
committed to Godolias the son of Ahicam.  And Ismahel the son of
Nathanias took them, and he departed, to go over to the children of
41:11. But Johanan the son of Caree, and all the captains of the
fighting men that were with him, heard of the evil that Ismahel the son
of Nathanias had done.
41:12. And taking all the men, they went out to fight against Ismahel
the son of Nathanias, and they found him by the great waters that are
41:13. And when all the people that were with Ismahel, had seen Johanan
the son of Caree, and all the captains of the fighting men that were
with him, they rejoiced.
41:14. And all the people whom Ismahel had taken, went back to
Masphath:  and they returned and went to Johanan the son of Caree.
41:15. But Ismahel the son of Nathanias fled with eight men, from the
face of Johanan, and went to the children of Ammon.
41:16. Then Johanan the son of Caree, and all the captains of the
soldiers that were with him, took all the remnant of the people whom
they had recovered from Ismahel the son of Nathanias, from Masphath,
after that he had slain Godolias the son of Ahicam:  valiant men for
war, and the women, and the children, and the eunuchs whom he had
brought back from Gabaon.
41:17. And they departed, and sat as sojourners in Chamaam, which is
near Bethlehem:  in order to go forward, and enter into Egypt,
41:18. From the face of the Chaldeans:  for they were afraid of them,
because Ismahel the son of Nathanias had slain Godolias the son of
Ahicam, whom the king of Babylon had made governor in the land of Juda.
Jeremias Chapter 42
Jeremias assures the remnant of the people, that if they will stay in
Juda, they shall be safe; but if they go down into Egypt, they shall
42:1. Then all the captains of the warriors, and Johanan the son of
Caree, and Jezonias, the son of Osaias, and the rest of the people from
the least to the greatest came near:
42:2. And they said to Jeremias the prophet:  Let our supplication fall
before thee:  and pray thou for us to the Lord thy God for all this
remnant, for we are left but a few of many, as thy eyes do behold us.
42:3. And let the Lord thy God shew us the way by which we may walk,
and the thing that we must do.
42:4. And Jeremias the prophet said to them:  I have heard you:  behold I
will pray to the Lord your God according to your words:  and whatsoever
thing he shall answer me, I will declare it to you:  and I will hide
nothing from you.
42:5. And they said to Jeremias:  The Lord be witness between us of
truth and faithfulness, if we do not according to every thing for which
the Lord thy God shall send thee to us.
42:6. Whether it be good or evil, we will obey the voice of the Lord
our God, to whom we send thee:  that it may be well with us when we
shall hearken to the voice of the Lord our God.
Good or evil. . .That is, agreeable or disagreeable.
42:7. Now after ten days, the word of the Lord came to Jeremias.
42:8. And he called Johanan the son of Caree, and all the captains of
the fighting men that were with him, and all the people from the least
to the greatest.
42:9. And he said to them:  Thus saith the Lord the God of Israel, to
whom you sent me, to present your supplications before him:
42:10. If you will be quiet and remain in this land, I will build you
up, and not pull you down:  I will plant you, and not pluck you up:  for
now I am appeased for the evil that I have done to you.
I am appeased for the evil that I have done to you. . .That is, I am
appeased, as I have sufficiently punished you, and now I am reconciled
42:11. Fear not because of the king of Babylon, of whom you are greatly
afraid:  fear him not, saith the Lord:  for I am with you, to save you,
and to deliver you from his hand.
42:12. And I will shew mercies to you, and will take pity on you, and
will cause you to dwell in your own land.
42:13. But if you say:  We will not dwell in this land, neither will we
hearken to the voice of the Lord our God,
42:14. Saying:  No, but we will go into the land of Egypt:  where we
shall see no war, nor hear the sound of the trumpet, nor suffer hunger:
and there we will dwell.
42:15. For this now hear the word of the Lord, ye remnant of Juda:  Thus
saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel:  If you set your faces to go
into Egypt, and enter in to dwell there:
42:16. The sword which you fear, shall overtake you there in the land
of Egypt:  and the famine, whereof you are afraid, shall cleave to you
in Egypt, and there you shall die.
42:17. And all the men that set their faces to go into Egypt, to dwell
there, shall die by the sword, and by famine, and by pestilence:  none
of them shall remain, nor escape from the face of the evil that I will
bring upon them.
42:18. For thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel:  As my anger
and my indignation hath been kindled against the inhabitants of
Jerusalem:  so shall my indignation be kindled against you, when you
shall enter into Egypt, and you shall be an execration, and an
astonishment, and a curse, and a reproach:  and you shall see this place
42:19. This is the word of the Lord concerning you, O ye remnant of
Juda:  Go ye not into Egypt:  know certainly that I have adjured you this
42:20. For you have deceived your own souls:  for you sent me to the
Lord our God, saying:  Pray for us to the Lord our God, and according to
all that the Lord our God shall say to thee, so declare unto us, and we
42:21. And now I have declared it to you this day, and you have not
obeyed the voice of the Lord your God, with regard to all the things
for which he hath sent me to you.
42:22. Now therefore know certainly that you shall die by the sword,
and by famine, and by pestilence in the place to which you desire to go
to dwell there.
Jeremias Chapter 43
The Jews, contrary to the orders of God by the prophet, go into Egypt,
carrying Jeremias with them.  He foretells the devastation of that land
by the king of Babylon.
43:1. And it came to pass, that when Jeremias had made an end of
speaking to the people all the words of the Lord their God, for which
the Lord their God had sent him to them, all these words:
43:2. Azarias the son of Osaias, and Johanan the son of Caree, and all
the proud men, made answer, saying to Jeremias:  Thou tellest a lie:  the
Lord our God hath not sent thee, saying:  Go not into Egypt, to dwell
43:3. But Baruch the son of Nerias setteth thee on against us, to
deliver us into the hands of the Chaldeans, to kill us, and to cause us
to be carried away captives to Babylon.
43:4. So Johanan the son of Caree, and all the captains of the
soldiers, and all the people, obeyed not the voice of the Lord, to
remain in the land of Juda.
43:5. But Johanan the son of Caree, and all the captains of the
soldiers took all the remnant of Juda, that were returned out of all
nations, to which they had before been scattered, to dwell in the land
43:6. Men, and women, and children, and the king's daughters, and every
soul, which Nabuzardan the general had left with Godolias the son of
Ahicam the son of Saphan, and Jeremias the prophet, and Baruch the son
43:7. And they went into the land of Egypt, for they obeyed not the
voice of the Lord:  and they came as far as Taphnis.
43:8. And the word of the Lord came to Jeremias in Taphnis, saying:
43:9. Take great stones in thy hand, and thou shalt hide them in the
vault that is under the brick wall at the gate of Pharao's house in
Taphnis:  in the sight of the men of Juda.
43:10. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God
of Israel:  Behold I will send, and take Nabuchodonosor the king of
Babylon my servant:  and I will set his throne over these stones which I
have hid, and he shall set his throne over them.
43:11. And he shall come and strike the land of Egypt:  such as are for
death, to death:  and such as are for captivity, to captivity:  and such
as are for the sword, to the sword.
43:12. And he shall kindle a fire in the temples of the gods of Egypt,
and he shall burn them, and he shall carry them away captives:  and he
shall array himself with the land of Egypt, as a shepherd putteth on
his garment:  and he shall go forth from thence in peace.
43:13. And he shall break the statues of the house of the sun, that are
in the land of Egypt; and the temples of the gods of Egypt he shall
burn with fire.
Jeremias Chapter 44
The prophet's admonition to the Jews in Egypt against idolatry is not
regarded:  he denounces to them their destruction.
44:1. The word that came to Jeremias, concerning all the Jews that
dwelt in the land of Egypt, dwelling in Magdal, and in Taphnis, and in
Memphis, and in the land of Phatures, saying:
44:2. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  You have seen all
this evil that I have brought upon Jerusalem, and upon all the cities
of Juda:  and behold they are desolate this day, and there is not an
inhabitant in them:
44:3. Because of the wickedness which they have committed, to provoke
me to wrath, and to go and offer sacrifice, and worship other gods,
which neither they, nor you, nor your fathers knew.
44:4. And I sent to you all my servants the prophets, rising early, and
sending, and saying:  Do not commit this abominable thing, which I hate.
44:5. But they heard not, nor inclined their ear to turn from their
evil ways, and not to sacrifice to strange gods.
44:6. Wherefore my indignation and my fury was poured forth, and was
kindled in the cities of Juda, and in the streets of Jerusalem:  and
they are turned to desolation and waste, as at this day.
44:7. And now thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Why do
you commit this great evil against your own souls, that there should
die of you man and woman, child and suckling out of the midst of Juda,
and no remnant should be left you:
44:8. In that you provoke me to wrath with the works of your hands, by
sacrificing to other gods in the land of Egypt, into which you are come
to dwell there:  and that you should perish, and be a curse, and a
reproach to all the nations of the earth?
44:9. Have you forgotten the evils of your fathers, and the evils of
the kings of Juda, and the evils of their wives, and your evils, and
the evils of your wives, that they have done in the land of Juda, and
in the streets of Jerusalem?
44:10. They are not cleansed even to this day:  neither have they
feared, nor walked in the law of the Lord, nor in my commandments,
which I set before you and your fathers.
44:11. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Behold
I will set my face upon you for evil:  and I will destroy all Juda.
44:12. And I will take the remnant of Juda that have set their faces to
go into the land of Egypt, and to dwell there; and they shall be all
consumed in the land of Egypt:  they shall fall by the sword, and by the
famine:  and they shall be consumed from the least even to the greatest,
by the sword, and by the famine shall they die:  and they shall be for
an execration, and for a wonder, and for a curse, and for a reproach.
44:13. And I will visit them that dwell in the land of Egypt, as I have
visited Jerusalem by the sword, and by famine and by pestilence.
44:14. And there shall be none that shall escape, and remain of the
remnant of the Jews that are gone to sojourn in the land of Egypt:  and
that shall return into the land of Juda, to which they have a desire to
return to dwell there:  there shall none return but they that shall
44:15. Then all the men that knew that their wives sacrificed to other
gods:  and all the women of whom there stood by a great multitude, and
all the people of them that dwelt in the land of Egypt in Phatures,
answered Jeremias, saying:
44:16. As for the word which thou hast spoken to us in the name of the
Lord, we will not hearken to thee:
44:17. But we will certainly do every word that shall proceed out of
our own mouth, to sacrifice to the queen of heaven, and to pour out
drink offerings to her, as we and our fathers have done, our kings, and
our princes in the cities of Juda, and in the streets of Jerusalem:  and
we were filled with bread, and it was well with us, and we saw no evil.
The queen of heaven. . .The moon, which they worshipped under this name.
44:18. But since we left off to offer sacrifice to the queen of heaven,
and to pour out frank offerings to her, we have wanted all things, and
have been consumed by the sword, and by famine.
44:19. And if we offer sacrifice to the queen of heaven, and pour out
drink offerings to her:  did we make cakes to worship her, to pour out
drink offerings to her, without our husbands?
44:20. And Jeremias spoke to all the people, to the men, and to the
women, and to all the people which had given him that answer, saying:
44:21. Was it not the sacrifice that you offered in the cities of Juda,
and in the streets of Jerusalem, you and your fathers, your kings, and
your princes, and the people of the land, which the Lord hath
remembered, and hath it not entered into his heart?
44:22. So that the Lord could no longer bear, because of the evil of
your doings, and because of the abominations which you have committed:
therefore your land is become a desolation, and an astonishment, and a
curse, without an inhabitant, as at this day.
44:23. Because you have sacrificed to idols, and have sinned against
the Lord:  and have not obeyed the voice of the Lord, and have not
walked in his law, and in his commandments, and in his testimonies:
therefore are these evils come upon you, as at this day.
44:24. And Jeremias said to all the people and to all the women:  Hear
ye the word of the Lord, all Juda, you that dwell in the land of Egypt:
44:25. Thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel, saying:  You and
your wives have spoken with your mouth, and fulfilled with your hands,
saying:  Let us perform our vows which we have made, to offer sacrifice
to the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink offerings to her:  you
have fulfilled your vows, and have performed them indeed.
44:26. Therefore hear ye the word of the Lord, all Juda, you that dwell
in the land of Egypt:  Behold I have sworn by my great name, saith the
Lord:  that my name shall no more be named in the mouth of any man of
Juda, in the land of Egypt, saying:  The Lord God liveth.
44:27. Behold I will watch over them for evil, and not for good:  and
all the men of Juda that are in the land of Egypt, shall be consumed,
by the sword, and by famine, till there be an end of them.
44:28. And a few men that shall flee from the sword, shall return out
of the land of Egypt into the land of Juda:  and all the remnant of Juda
that are gone into the land of Egypt to dwell there, shall know whose
word shall stand, mine, or theirs.
44:29. And this shall be a sign to you, saith the Lord, that I will
punish you in this place:  that you may know that my words shall be
accomplished indeed against you for evil.
44:30. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will deliver Pharao Nechao king of
Egypt into the hand of his enemies, and into the hand of them that seek
his life:  as I delivered Sedecias king of Juda into the land of
Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon his enemy, and that sought his life.
Jeremias Chapter 45
The prophet comforts Baruch in his affliction.
45:1. The word that Jeremias the prophet spoke to Baruch the son of
Nerias, when he had written these words in a book, out of the mouth of
Jeremias, in the fourth year of Joakim the son of Josias king of Juda,
45:2. Thus saith the Lord the God of Israel to thee, Baruch:
45:3. Thou hast said:  Woe is me, wretch that I am, for the Lord hath
added sorrow to my sorrow:  I am wearied with my groans, and I find no
45:4. Thus saith the Lord:  Thus shalt thou say to him:  Behold, them
whom I have built, I do destroy:  and them whom I have planted, I do
pluck up, and all this land.
45:5. And dost thou seek great things for thyself?  Seek not:  for behold
I will bring evil upon all flesh, saith the Lord! but I will give thee
thy life, and save thee in all places whithersoever thou shalt go.
Jeremias Chapter 46
A prophecy against Egypt.  The Jews shall return from captivity.
46:1. The word of the Lord that came to Jeremias the prophet against
the Gentiles,
46:2. Against Egypt, against the army of Pharao Nechao king of Egypt,
which was by the river Euphrates in Charcamis, whom Nabuchodonosor the
king of Babylon defeated, in the fourth year of Joakim the son of
Josias king of Juda.
46:3. Prepare ye the shield and buckler, and go forth to battle.
46:4. Harness the horses, and get up, ye horsemen:  stand forth with
helmets, furbish the spears, put on coats of mail.
46:5. What then?  I have seen them dismayed, and turning their backs,
their valiant ones slain:  they fled apace, and they looked not back:
terror was round about, saith the Lord.
46:6. Let not the swift flee away, nor the strong think to escape:  they
are overthrown, and fallen down, towards the north by the river
46:7. Who is this that cometh up as a flood:  and his streams swell like
those of rivers?
46:8. Egypt riseth up like a flood, and the waves thereof shall be
moved as rivers, and he shall say:  I will go up and will cover the
earth:  I will destroy the city, and its inhabitants.
46:9. Get ye up on horses, and glory in chariots, and let the valiant
men come forth, the Ethiopians, and the Libyans that hold the shield,
and the Lydians that take, and shoot arrows.
46:10. For this is the day of the Lord the God of hosts, a day of
vengeance, that he may revenge himself of his enemies:  the sword shall
devour, and shall be filled, and shall be drunk with their blood:  for
there is a sacrifice of the Lord God of hosts in the north country, by
the river Euphrates.
46:11. Go up into Galaad, and take balm, O virgin daughter of Egypt:  in
vain dost thou multiply medicines, there shall be no cure for thee.
46:12. The nations have heard of thy disgrace, and thy howling hath
filled the land:  for the strong hath stumbled against the strong, and
both are fallen together.
46:13. The word that the Lord spoke to Jeremias the prophet, how
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon should come and strike the land of
46:14. Declare ye to Egypt, and publish it in Magdal, and let it be
known in Memphis, and in Taphnis:  say ye:  Stand up, and prepare
thyself:  for the sword shall devour all round about thee.
46:15. Why are thy valiant men come to nothing?  they stood not:  because
the Lord hath overthrown them.
46:16. He hath multiplied them that fall, and one hath fallen upon
another, and they shall say:  Arise, and let us return to our own
people, and to the land of our nativity, from the sword of the dove.
The dove. . .See the annotation on chap. 25., ver. 38.
46:17. Call ye the name of Pharao king of Egypt, a tumult time hath
46:18. As I live, saith the King, (whose name is the Lord of hosts,) as
Thabor is among the mountains, and as Carmel by the sea, so shall he
46:19. Furnish thyself to go into captivity, thou daughter inhabitant
of Egypt:  for Memphis shall be made desolate, and shall be forsaken and
uninhabited.
46:20. Egypt is like a fair and beautiful heifer:  there shall come from
the north one that shall goad her.
46:21. Her hirelings also that lived in the midst of her, like fatted
calves are turned back, and are fled away together, and they could not
stand, for the day of their slaughter is come upon them, the time of
their visitation.
46:22. Her voice shall sound like brass, for they shall hasten with an
army, and with axes they shall come against her, as hewers of wood.
46:23. They have cut down her forest, saith the Lord, which cannot be
counted:  they are multiplied above locusts, and are without number.
46:24. The daughter of Egypt is confounded, and delivered into the hand
of the people of the north.
46:25. The Lord of hosts the God of Israel hath said:  Behold I will
visit upon the tumult of Alexandria, and upon Pharao, and upon Egypt,
and upon her gods, and upon her kings, and upon Pharao, and upon them
that trust in him.
Visit upon. . .That is, punish.--Ibid.  Alexandria. . .In the Hebrew, No,
which was the ancient name of the city, to which Alexander gave
afterwards the name of Alexandria.
46:26. And I will deliver them into the hand of them that seek their
lives, and into the hand of Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon, and into
the hand of his servants:  and afterwards it shall be inhabited, as in
the days of old, saith the Lord.
46:27. And thou my servant Jacob, fear not and be not thou dismayed, O
Israel:  for behold I will save thee from afar off, and thy seed out of
the land of thy captivity:  and Jacob shall return and be at rest, and
prosper:  and there shall be none to terrify him.
46:28. And thou, my servant Jacob, fear not, saith the Lord:  because I
am with thee, for I will consume all the nations to which I have cast
thee out:  but thee I will not consume, but I will correct thee in
judgment, neither will I spare thee as if thou wert innocent.
Jeremias Chapter 47
A prophecy of the desolation of the Philistines, of Tyre, Sidon, Gaza,
and Ascalon.
47:1. The word of the Lord that came to Jeremias the prophet against
the people of Palestine, before Pharao took Gaza.
47:2. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold there come up waters out of the
north, and they shall be as an overflowing torrent, and they shall
cover the land, and all that is therein, the city and the inhabitants
thereof:  then the men shall cry, and all the inhabitants of the land
47:3. At the noise of the marching of arms, and of his soldiers, at the
rushing of his chariots, and the multitude of his wheels.  The fathers
have not looked back to the children, for feebleness of hands,
47:4. Because of the coming of the day, in which all the Philistines
shall be laid waste, and Tyre and Sidon shall be destroyed, with all
the rest of their helpers.  For the Lord hath wasted the Philistines,
the remnant of the isle of Cappadocia.
47:5. Baldness is come upon Gaza:  Ascalon hath held her peace with the
remnant of their valley:  how long shalt thou cut thyself?
47:6. O thou sword of the Lord, how long wilt thou not be quiet?  Go
into thy scabbard, rest, and be still.
47:7. How shall it be quiet, when the Lord hath given it a charge
against Ascalon, and against the countries thereof by the sea side, and
there hath made an appointment for it?
Jeremias Chapter 48
A prophecy of the desolation of Moab for their pride:  but their
captivity shall at last be released.
48:1. Against Moab thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Woe
to Nabo, for it is laid waste, and confounded:  Cariathaim is taken:  the
strong city is confounded and hath trembled.
48:2. There is no more rejoicing in Moab over Hesebon:  they have
devised evil.  Come, and let us cut it off from being a nation.
Therefore shalt thou in silence hold thy peace, and the sword shall
follow thee.
48:3. A voice of crying from Oronaim:  waste, and great destruction.
48:4. Moab is destroyed:  proclaim a cry for her little ones.
48:5. For by the ascent of Luith shall the mourner go up with weeping:
for in the descent of Oronaim the enemies have heard a howling of
destruction.
48:6. Flee, save your lives:  and be as heath in the wilderness.
48:7. For because thou hast trusted in thy bulwarks, and in thy
treasures, thou also shalt be taken:  and Chamos shall go into
captivity, his priests, and his princes together.
Chamos. . .The idol of the Moabites.
48:8. And the spoiler shall come upon every city, and no city shall
escape:  and the valleys shall perish, and the plains shall be
destroyed, for the Lord hath spoken:
48:9. Give a flower to Moab, for in its flower it shall go out:  and the
cities thereof shall be desolate, and uninhabited.
48:10. Cursed be he that doth the work of the Lord deceitfully:  and
cursed be he that withholdeth his sword from blood.
Deceitfully. . .In the Greek, negligently.  The work of God here spoken
of, is the punishment of the Moabites.
48:11. Moab hath been fruitful from his youth, and hath rested upon his
lees:  and hath not been poured out from vessel to vessel, nor hath gone
into captivity:  therefore his taste hath remained in him, and his scent
is not changed.
Moab hath been fruitful. . .That is, rich and flourishing.  And hath
rested upon his lees. . .That is, remained in its bad morals; as wine
not decanted has its lees mixed and remains muddy.
48:12. Therefore behold the days come, saith the Lord, and I will send
him men that shall order and overturn his bottles, and they shall cast
him down, and shall empty his vessels, and break their bottles one
against another.
48:13. And Moab shall be ashamed of Chamos, as the house of Israel was
ashamed of Bethel, in which they trusted.
Of Bethel. . .That is, of their golden calf which they worshipped in
48:14. How do you say:  We are valiant and stout men in battle?
48:15. Moab is laid waste, and they have cast down her cities:  and her
choice young men are gone down to the slaughter:  saith the king, whose
name is the Lord of hosts.
48:16. The destruction of Moab is near to come:  the calamity thereof
shall come on exceeding swiftly.
48:17. Comfort him, all you that are round about him, and all you that
know his name, say:  How is the strong staff broken, the beautiful rod?
48:18. Come down from thy glory, and sit in thirst, O dwelling of the
daughter of Dibon:  because the spoiler of Moab is come up to thee, he
hath destroyed thy bulwarks.
48:19. Stand in the way, and look out, O habitation of Aroer:  inquire
of him that fleeth:  and say to him that hath escaped:  What is done?
48:20. Moab is confounded, because he is overthrown:  howl ye, and cry,
tell ye it in Arnon, that Moab is wasted.
48:21. And judgment is come upon the plain country:  upon Helon, and
upon Jasa, and upon Mephaath.
48:22. And upon Dibon, and upon Nabo, and upon the house of Deblathaim,
48:23. And upon Cariathaim, and upon Bethgamul, and upon Bethmaon,
48:24. And upon Carioth, and upon Bosra:  and upon all the cities of the
land of Moab, far or near.
48:25. The horn of Moab is cut off, and his arm is broken, saith the
The horn of Moab is cut off. . .That is, the strength of Moab is cut
off.  A metaphor drawn from animals whose strength is in their horns.
48:26. Make him drunk, because he lifted up himself against the Lord:
and Moab shall dash his hand in his own vomit, and he also shall be in
48:27. For Israel hath been a derision unto them:  as though thou hadst
found him amongst thieves:  for thy words therefore, which thou hast
spoken against him, thou shalt be led away captive.
48:28. Leave the cities, and dwell in the rock, you that dwell in Moab:
and be ye like the dove that maketh her nest in the mouth of the hole
in the highest place.
48:29. We have heard the pride of Moab, he is exceeding proud:  his
haughtiness, and his arrogancy, and his pride, and the loftiness of his
48:30. I know, saith the Lord, his boasting, and that the strength
thereof is not according to it, neither hath it endeavoured to do
according as it was able.
48:31. Therefore will I lament for Moab, and I will cry out to all
Moab, for the men of the brick wall that mourn.
48:32. O vineyard of Sabama, I will weep for thee, with the mourning of
Jazer:  thy branches are gone over the sea, they are come even to the
sea of Jazer:  the robber hath rushed in upon thy harvest and thy
48:33. Joy and gladness is taken away from Carmel, and from the land of
Moab, and I have taken away the wine out of the presses:  the treader of
the grapes shall not sing the accustomed cheerful tune.
48:34. From the cry of Hesebon even to Eleale, and to Jasa, they have
uttered their voice:  from Segor to Oronaim, as a heifer of three years
old:  the waters also of Nemrim shall be very bad.
48:35. And I will take away from Moab, saith the Lord, him that
offereth in the high places, and that sacrificeth to his gods.
48:36. Therefore my heart shall sound for Moab like pipes and my heart
shall sound like pipes for the men of the brick wall:  because he hath
done more than he could, therefore they have perished.
48:37. For every head shall be bald, and every beard shall be shaven:
all hands shall be tied together, and upon every back there shall be
48:38. Upon all the housetops of Moab, and in the streets thereof
general mourning:  because I have broken Moab as an useless vessel,
saith the Lord.
48:39. How is it overthrown, and they have howled!  How hath Moab bowed
down the neck, and is confounded!  And Moab shall be a derision, and an
example to all round about him.
48:40. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold he shall fly as an eagle, and shall
stretch forth his wings to Moab.
48:41. Carioth is taken, and the strongholds are won:  and the heart of
the valiant men of Moab in that day shall be as the heart of a woman in
48:42. And Moab shall cease to be a people:  because he hath gloried
against the Lord.
48:43. Fear, and the pit, and the snare come upon thee, O inhabitant of
Moab, saith the Lord.
Fear. . .That is, the sword of the enemy.  The pit. . .That is,
unforeseen calamities.  The snare. . .That is, the ambushes laid by the
48:44. He that shall flee from the fear, shall fall into the pit:  and
he that shall get up out of the pit, shall be taken in the snare:  for I
will bring upon Moab the year of their visitation, saith the Lord.
48:45. They that fled from the snare stood in the shadow of Hesebon:
but there came a fire out of Hesebon, and a flame out of the midst of
Seon, and it shall devour part of Moab, and the crown of the head of
the children of tumult.
48:46. Woe to thee, Moab, thou hast persisted, O people of Chamos:  for
thy sons, and thy daughters are taken captives.
48:47. And I will bring back the captivity of Moab in the last days,
saith the Lord.  Hitherto the judgments of Moab.
Jeremias Chapter 49
The like desolation of Ammon, of Idumea, of the Syrians, of the
Agarenes, and of the Elamites.
49:1. Against the children of Ammon.  Thus saith the Lord:  Hath Israel
no sons?  or hath he no heir?  Why then hath Melchom inherited Gad:  and
his people dwelt in his cities?
Melchom. . .The idol of the Ammonites.
49:2. Therefore behold the days come, saith the Lord, and I will cause
the noise of war to be heard in Rabbath of the children of Ammon, and
it shall be destroyed into a heap, and her daughters shall be burnt
with fire, and Israel shall possess them that have possessed him, saith
49:3. Howl, O Hesebon, for Hai is wasted.  Cry, ye daughters of Rabbath,
gird yourselves with haircloth:  mourn and go about by the hedges:  for
Melchom shall be carried into captivity, his priests, and his princes
49:4. Why gloriest thou in the valleys?  thy valley hath flowed away, O
delicate daughter, that hast trusted in thy treasures, and hast said:
Who shall come to me?
49:5. Behold I will bring a fear upon thee, saith the Lord God of
hosts, from all that are round about thee:  and you shall be scattered
every one out of one another's sight, neither shall there be any to
gather together them that flee.
49:6. And afterwards I will cause the captives of the children of Ammon
to return, saith the Lord.
49:7. Against Edom.  Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Is wisdom no more in
Theman?  counsel is perished from her children:  their wisdom is become
unprofitable.
49:8. Flee and turn your backs, go down into the deep hole, ye
inhabitants of Dedan:  for I have brought the destruction of Esau upon
him, the time of his visitation.
49:9. If grapegatherers had come to thee, would they not have left a
bunch?  if thieves in the night, they would have taken what was enough
49:10. But I have made Esau bare, I have revealed his secrets, and he
cannot be hid:  his seed is laid waste, and his brethren, and his
neighbours, and he shall not be.
49:11. Leave thy fatherless children:  I will make them live:  and thy
widows shall hope in me.
49:12. For thus saith the Lord:  Behold they whose judgment was not to
drink of the cup, shall certainly drink:  and shalt thou come off as
innocent?  thou shalt not come off as innocent, but drinking thou shalt
49:13. For I have sworn by myself, saith the Lord, that Bosra shall
become a desolation, and a reproach, and a desert, and a curse:  and all
her cities shall be everlasting wastes.
49:14. I have heard a rumour from the Lord, and an ambassador is sent
to the nations:  Gather yourselves together, and come against her, and
let us rise up to battle.
49:15. For behold I have made thee a little one among the nations,
despicable among men.
49:16. Thy arrogancy hath deceived thee, and the pride of thy heart:  O
thou that dwellest in the clefts of the rock, and endeavourest to lay
hold on the height of the hill:  but though thou shouldst make thy nest
as high as an eagle, I will bring thee down from thence, saith the
49:17. And Edom shall be desolate:  every one that shall pass by it,
shall be astonished, and shall hiss at all its plagues.
49:18. As Sodom was overthrown and Gomorrha, and the neighbours
thereof, saith the Lord:  there shall not a man dwell there, and there
shall no son of man inhabit it.
49:19. Behold one shall come up as a lion from the swelling of the
Jordan, against the strong and beautiful:  for I will make him run
suddenly upon her:  and who shall be the chosen one whom I may appoint
over her?  for who is like to me?  and who shall abide me?  and who is
that shepherd that can withstand my countenance?
49:20. Therefore hear ye the counsel of the Lord, which he hath taken
concerning Edom:  and his thoughts which he hath thought concerning the
inhabitants of Theman:  surely the little ones of the flock shall cast
them down, of a truth they shall destroy them with their habitation.
49:21. The earth is moved at the noise of their fall:  the cry of their
voice is heard in the Red Sea.
49:22. Behold he shall come up as an eagle, and fly:  and he shall
spread his wings over Bosra:  and in that day the heart of the valiant
ones of Edom shall be as the heart of a woman in labour.
49:23. Against Damascus.  Emath is confounded and Arphad:  for they have
heard very bad tidings, they are troubled as in the sea:  through care
they could not rest.
49:24. Damascus is undone, she is put to flight, trembling hath seized
on her:  anguish and sorrows have taken her as a woman in labour.
49:25. How have they forsaken the city of renown, the city of joy!
49:26. Therefore her young men shall fall in her streets:  and all the
men of war shall be silent in that day, saith the Lord of hosts.
49:27. And I will kindle a fire in the wall of Damascus, and it shall
devour the strong holds of Benadad.
49:28. Against Cedar and against the kingdoms of Asor, which
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon destroyed.  Thus saith the Lord:  Arise,
and go ye up to Cedar, and waste the children of the east.
Cedar and Asor. . .Were parts of Arabia; which with Moab, Ammon, Edom,
etc., were all brought under the yoke of Nabuchodonosor.
49:29. They shall take their tents, and their flocks:  and shall carry
off for themselves their curtains, and all their vessels, and their
camels:  and they shall call fear upon them round about.
49:30. Flee ye, get away speedily, sit in deep holes, you that inhabit
Asor, saith the Lord:  for Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon hath taken
counsel against you, and hath conceived designs against you.
49:31. Arise, and go up to a nation that is at ease, and that dwelleth
securely, saith the Lord:  they have neither gates, nor bars:  they dwell
49:32. And their camels shall be for a spoil and the multitude of their
cattle for a booty, and I will scatter into every wind them that have
their hair cut round, and I will bring destruction upon them from all
their confines, saith the Lord.
49:33. And Asor shall be a habitation for dragons, desolate for ever:
no man shall abide there, nor son of man inhabit it.
49:34. The word of the Lord that came to Jeremias the prophet against
Elam, in the beginning of the reign of Sedecias king of Juda, saying:
Elam. . .A part of Persia.
49:35. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Behold I will break the bow of
Elam, and their chief strength.
49:36. And I will bring upon Elam the four winds from the four quarters
of heaven:  and I will scatter them into all these winds:  and there
shall be no nation, to which the fugitives of Elam shall not come.
49:37. And I will cause Elam to be afraid before their enemies, and in
the sight of them that seek their life:  and I will bring evil upon
them, my fierce wrath, saith the Lord:  and I will send the sword after
them, till I consume them.
49:38. And I will set my throne in Elam, and destroy kings and princes
from thence, saith the Lord.
49:39. But in the latter days I will cause the captives of Elam, to
return, saith the Lord.
Jeremias Chapter 50
Babylon, which hath afflicted the Israelites, after their restoration,
shall be utterly destroyed.
50:1. The word that the Lord hath spoken against Babylon, and against
the land of the Chaldeans in the hand of Jeremias the prophet.
50:2. Declare ye among the nations, and publish it, lift up a standard:
proclaim, and conceal it not:  say:  Babylon is taken, Bel is confounded,
Merodach is overthrown, their graven things are confounded, their idols
are overthrown.
Bel, etc. . .Bel and Merodach were worshipped for gods by the men of
50:3. For a nation is come up against her out of the north, which shall
make her land desolate:  and there shall be none to dwell therein, from
man even to beast:  yea they are removed, and gone away.
A nation, etc. . .Viz., the Medes.
50:4. In those days, and at that time, saith the Lord, the children of
Israel shall come, they and the children of Juda together:  going and
weeping they shall make haste, and shall seek the Lord their God.
50:5. They shall ask the way to Sion, their faces are hitherward.  They
shall come, and shall be joined to the Lord by an everlasting covenant,
which shall never be forgotten.
50:6. My people have been a lost flock, their shepherds have caused
them to go astray, and have made them wander in the mountains:  they
have gone from mountain to hill, they have forgotten their resting
50:7. All that found them, have devoured them:  and their enemies said:
We have not sinned in so doing:  because they have sinned against the
Lord the beauty of justice, and against the Lord the hope of their
50:8. Remove out of the midst of Babylon, and go forth out of the land
of the Chaldeans:  and be ye as kids at the head of the flock.
50:9. For behold I raise up, and will bring against Babylon an assembly
of great nations from the land of the north:  and they shall be prepared
against her, and from thence she shall be taken:  their arrows, like
those of a mighty man, a destroyer, shall not return in vain.
50:10. And Chaldea shall be made a prey:  all that waste her shall be
filled, saith the Lord.
50:11. Because you rejoice, and speak great things, pillaging my
inheritance:  because you are spread abroad as calves upon the grass,
and have bellowed as bulls.
50:12. Your mother is confounded exceedingly, and she that bore you is
made even with the dust:  behold she shall be the last among the
nations, a wilderness unpassable, and dry.
50:13. Because of the wrath of the Lord it shall not be inhabited, but
shall be wholly desolate:  every one that shall pass by Babylon, shall
be astonished, and shall hiss at all her plagues.
50:14. Prepare yourselves against Babylon round about, all you that
bend the bow:  fight against her, spare not arrows:  because she hath
sinned against the Lord.
50:15. Shout against her, she hath every where given her hand, her
foundations are fallen, her walls are thrown down, for it is the
vengeance of the Lord.  Take vengeance upon her:  as she hath done, so do
50:16. Destroy the sower out of Babylon, and him that holdeth the
sickle in the time of harvest:  for fear of the sword of the dove every
man shall return to his people, and every one shall flee to his own
The dove. . .Or the destroyer; for the Hebrew word signifies either the
one or the other.
50:17. Israel is a scattered flock, the lions have driven him away:
first the king of Assyria devoured him:  and last this Nabuchodonosor
king of Babylon hath broken his bones.
50:18. Therefore thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  Behold
I will visit the king of Babylon and his land, as I have visited the
king of Assyria.
50:19. And I will bring Israel again to his habitation:  and he shall
feed on Carmel, and Bason, and his soul shall be satisfied in mount
Ephraim, and Galaad.
50:20. In those days, and at that time, saith the Lord, the iniquity of
Israel shall be sought for, and there shall be none:  and the sin of
Juda, and there shall none be found:  for I will be merciful to them,
whom I shall leave.
50:21. Go up against the land of the rulers, and punish the inhabitants
thereof, waste, and destroy all behind them, saith the Lord:  and do
according to all that I have commanded thee.
50:22. A noise of war in the land, and a great destruction.
50:23. How is the hammer of the whole earth broken, and destroyed! how
is Babylon turned into a desert among the nations!
50:24. I have caused thee to fall into a snare, and thou art taken, O
Babylon, and thou wast not aware of it:  thou art found and caught,
because thou hast provoked the Lord.
50:25. The Lord hath opened his armoury, and hath brought forth the
weapons of his wrath:  for the Lord the God of hosts hath a work to be
done in the land of the Chaldeans.
50:26. Come ye against her from the uttermost borders:  open that they
may go forth that shall tread her down:  take the stones out of the way,
and make heaps, and destroy her:  and let nothing of her be left.
50:27. Destroy all her valiant men, let them go down to the slaughter:
woe to them, for their day is come, the time of their visitation.
50:28. The voice of them that flee, and of them that have escaped out
of the land of Babylon:  to declare in Sion the revenge of the Lord our
God, the revenge of his temple.
50:29. Declare to many against Babylon, to all that bend the bow:  stand
together against her round about, and let none escape; pay her
according to her work:  according to all that she hath done, do ye to
her:  for she hath lifted up herself against the Lord, against the Holy
One of Israel.
50:30. Therefore shall her young men fall in her streets:  and all her
men of war shall hold their peace in that day, saith the Lord.
50:31. Behold I come against thee, O proud one, saith the Lord the God
of hosts:  for thy day is come, the time of thy visitation.
50:32. And the proud one shall fall, he shall fall down, and there
shall be none to lift him up:  and I will kindle a fire in his cities,
and it shall devour all round about him.
50:33. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  The children of Israel, and the
children of Juda are oppressed together:  all that have taken them
captives, hold them fast, they will not let them go.
50:34. Their redeemer is strong, the Lord of hosts is his name:  he will
defend their cause in judgment, to terrify the land, and to disquiet
the inhabitants of Babylon.
50:35. A sword is upon the Chaldeans, saith the Lord, and upon the
inhabitants of Babylon, and upon her princes, and upon her wise men.
50:36. A sword upon her diviners, and they shall be foolish:  a sword
upon her valiant ones, and they shall be dismayed.
50:37. A sword upon their horses, and upon their chariots, and upon all
the people that are in the midst of her:  and they shall become as
women:  a sword upon her treasures, and they shall be made a spoil.
50:38. A drought upon her waters, and they shall be dried up:  because
it is a land of idols, and they glory in monstrous things.
50:39. Therefore shall dragons dwell there with the fig fauns:  and
ostriches shall dwell therein, and it shall be no more inhabited for
ever, neither shall it be built up from generation to generation.
Fig fauns. . .Monsters of the desert, or demons in monstrous shapes:
such as the ancients called fauns and satyrs; and as they imagined them
to live upon wild figs, they called them fauni ficarii or fig fauns.
50:40. As the Lord overthrew Sodom and Gomorrha, and their neighbour
cities, saith the Lord:  no man shall dwell there, neither shall the son
of man inhabit it.
50:41. Behold a people cometh from the north, and a great nation, and
many kings shall rise from the ends of the earth.
50:42. They shall take the bow and the shield:  they are cruel and
unmerciful:  their voice shall roar like the sea, and they shall ride
upon horses:  like a man prepared for battle against thee, O daughter of
50:43. The king of Babylon hath heard the report of them, and his hands
are grown feeble:  anguish hath taken hold of him, pangs as a woman in
50:44. Behold he shall come up like a lion from the swelling of the
Jordan to the strong and beautiful:  for I will make him run suddenly
upon her:  and who shall be the chosen one whom I may appoint over her?
for who is like to me?  and who shall bear up against me?  and who is
that shepherd that can withstand my countenance?
50:45. Therefore hear ye the counsel of the Lord, which he hath taken
against Babylon:  and his thoughts which he hath thought against the
land of the Chaldeans:  surely the little ones of the flocks shall pull
them down, of a truth their habitation shall be destroyed with them.
50:46. At the noise of the taking of Babylon the earth is moved, and
the cry is heard amongst the nations.
Jeremias Chapter 51
The miseries that shall fall upon Babylon from the Medes:  the
destruction of her idols.
51:1. Thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will raise up as it were a
pestilential wind against Babylon and against the inhabitants thereof,
who have lifted up their heart against me.
51:2. And I will send to Babylon fanners, and they shall fan her, and
shall destroy her land:  for they are come upon her on every side in the
day of her affliction.
51:3. Let not him that bendeth, bend his bow, and let not him go up
that is armed with a coat of mail:  spare not her young men, destroy all
51:4. And the slain shall fall in the land of the Chaldeans, and the
wounded in the regions thereof.
51:5. For Israel and Juda have not been forsaken by their God the Lord
of hosts:  but their land hath been filled with sin against the Holy One
51:6. Flee ye from the midst of Babylon, and let every one save his own
life:  be not silent upon her iniquity:  for it is the time of revenge
from the Lord, he will render unto her what she hath deserved.
51:7. Babylon hath been a golden cup in the hand of the Lord, that made
all the earth drunk:  the nations have drunk of her wine, and therefore
they have staggered.
51:8. Babylon is suddenly fallen, and destroyed:  howl for her, take
balm for her pain, if so she may be healed.
51:9. We would have cured Babylon, but she is not healed:  let us
forsake her, and let us go every man to his own land:  because her
judgment hath reached even to the heavens, and is lifted up to the
51:10. The Lord hath brought forth our justices:  Come, and let us
declare in Sion the work of the Lord our God.
51:11. Sharpen the arrows, fill the quivers, the Lord hath raised up
the spirit of the kings of the Medes:  and his mind is against Babylon
to destroy it, because it is the vengeance of the Lord, the vengeance
of his temple.
51:12. Upon the walls of Babylon set up the standard, strengthen the
watch:  set up the watchmen, prepare the ambushes:  for the Lord hath
both purposed, and done all that he spoke against the inhabitants of
51:13. O thou that dwellest upon many waters, rich in treasures, thy
end is come for thy entire destruction.
51:14. The Lord of hosts hath sworn by himself, saying:  I will fill
thee with men as with locusts, and they shall lift up a joyful shout
against thee.
51:15. He that made the earth by his power, that hath prepared the
world by his wisdom, and stretched out the heavens by his
understanding.
51:16. When he uttereth his voice the waters are multiplied in heaven:
he lifteth up the clouds from the ends of the earth, he hath turned
lightning into rain:  and hath brought forth the wind out of his
51:17. Every man is become foolish by his knowledge:  every founder is
confounded by his idol, for what he hath cast is a lie, and there is no
breath in them.
51:18. They are vain works, and worthy to be laughed at, in the time of
their visitation they shall perish.
51:19. The portion of Jacob is not like them:  for he that made all
things he it is, and Israel is the sceptre of his inheritance:  the Lord
of hosts is his name.
51:20. Thou dashest together for me the weapons of war, and with thee I
will dash nations together, and with thee I will destroy kingdoms:
51:21. And with thee I will break in pieces the horse, and his rider,
and with thee I will break in pieces the chariot, and him that getteth
51:22. And with thee I will break in pieces man and woman, and with
thee I will break in pieces the old man and the child, and with thee I
will break in pieces the young man and the virgin:
51:23. And with thee I will break in pieces the shepherd and his flock,
and with thee I will break in pieces the husbandman and his yoke of
oxen, and with thee I will break in pieces captains and rulers.
51:24. And I will render to Babylon, and to all the inhabitants of
Chaldea all their evil, that they have done in Sion, before your eyes,
saith the Lord.
51:25. Behold I come against thee, thou destroying mountain, saith the
Lord, which corruptest the whole earth:  and I will stretch out my hand
upon thee, and will roll thee down from the rocks, and will make thee a
burnt mountain.
51:26. And they shall not take of thee a stone for the corner, nor a
stone for foundations, but thou shalt be destroyed for ever, saith the
51:27. Set ye up a standard in the land:  sound with the trumpet among
the nations:  prepare the nations against her:  call together against her
the kings of Ararat, Menni, and Ascenez:  number Taphsar against her,
bring the horse as the stinging locust.
51:28. Prepare the nations against her, the kings of Media, their
captains, and all their rulers, and all the land of their dominion.
51:29. And the land shall be in a commotion, and shall be troubled:  for
the design of the Lord against Babylon shall awake, to make the land of
Babylon desert and uninhabitable.
51:30. The valiant men of Babylon have forborne to fight, they have
dwelt in holds:  their strength hath failed, and they are become as
women:  her dwelling places are burnt, her bars are broken.
51:31. One running post shall meet another, and messenger shall meet
messenger:  to tell the king of Babylon that his city is taken from one
end to the other:
51:32. And that the fords are taken, and the marshes are burnt with
fire, and the men of war are affrighted.
51:33. For thus saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel:  The daughter
of Babylon is like a thrashingfloor, this is the time of her thrashing:
yet a little while, and the time of her harvest shall come.
51:34. Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon hath eaten me up, he hath
devoured me:  he hath made me as an empty vessel:  he hath swallowed me
up like a dragon, he hath filled his belly with my delicate meats, and
he hath cast me out.
51:35. The wrong done to me, and my flesh be upon Babylon, saith the
habitation of Sion:  and my blood upon the inhabitants of Chaldea, saith
51:36. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  Behold I will judge thy cause,
and will take vengeance for thee, and I will make her sea desolate, I
and will dry up her spring.
51:37. And Babylon shall be reduced to heaps, a dwelling place for
dragons, an astonishment and a hissing, because there is no inhabitant.
51:38. They shall roar together like lions, they shall shake their
manes like young lions.
51:39. In their heat I will set them drink:  and I will make them drunk,
that they may slumber, and sleep an everlasting sleep, and awake no
more, saith the Lord.
51:40. I will bring them down like lambs to the slaughter, and like
rams with kids.
51:41. How is Sesach taken, and the renowned one of all the earth
surprised?  How is Babylon become an astonishment among the nations?
51:42. The sea is come up over Babylon :  she is covered with the
multitude of the waves thereof.
51:43. Her cities are become an astonishment, a land uninhabited and
desolate, a land wherein none can dwell, nor son of man pass through
51:44. And I will visit against Bel in Babylon, and I will bring forth
out of his mouth that which he had swallowed down:  and the nations
shall no more flow together to him, for the wall also of Babylon shall
51:45. Go out of the midst of her, my people:  that every man may save
his life from the fierce wrath of the Lord.
51:46. And lest your hearts faint, and ye fear for the rumour that
shall be heard in the land:  and a rumour shall come in one year, and
after this year another rumour:  and iniquity in the land, and ruler
51:47. Therefore behold the days come, and I will visit the idols of
Babylon:  and her whole land shall be confounded, and all her slain
shall fall in the midst of her.
51:48. And the heavens and the earth, and all things that are in them
shall give praise for Babylon:  for spoilers shall come to her from the
north, saith the Lord.
51:49. And as Babylon caused that there should fall slain in Israel:  so
of Babylon there shall fall slain in all the earth.
51:50. You that have escaped the sword, come away, stand not still:
remember the Lord afar off, and let Jerusalem come into your mind.
51:51. We are confounded, because we have heard reproach:  shame hath
covered our faces:  because strangers are come upon the sanctuaries of
the house of the Lord.
51:52. Therefore behold the days come, saith the Lord, and I will visit
her graven things, and in all her land the wounded shall groan:
51:53. If Babylon should mount up to heaven, and establish her strength
on high:  from me there should come spoilers upon her, saith the Lord.
51:54. The noise of a cry from Babylon, and great destruction from the
land of the Chaldeans:
51:55. Because the Lord hath laid Babylon waste, and destroyed out of
her the great voice:  and their wave shall roar like many waters:  their
voice hath made a noise:
51:56. Because the spoiler is come upon her, that is, upon Babylon, and
her valiant men are taken, and their bow is weakened, because the Lord,
who is a strong revenger, will surely repay.
51:57. And I will make her princes drunk, and her wise men, and her
captains, and her rulers, and her valiant men:  and they shall sleep an
everlasting sleep, and shall awake no more, saith the king whose name
is Lord of hosts.
51:58. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  That broad wall of Babylon shall
be utterly broken down, and her high gates shall be burnt with fire,
and the labours of the people shall come to nothing, and of the nations
shall go to the fire, and shall perish.
51:59. The word that Jeremias the prophet commanded Saraias the son of
Nerias, the son of Maasias, when he went with king Sedecias to Babylon,
in the fourth year of his reign:  now Saraias was chief over the
51:60. And Jeremias wrote in one book all the evil that was to come
upon Babylon:  all these words that are written against Babylon.
51:61. And Jeremias said to Saraias:  When thou shalt come into Babylon,
and shalt see, and shalt read all these words,
51:62. Thou shalt say:  O Lord, thou hast spoken against this place to
destroy it:  so that there should be neither man nor beast to dwell
therein, and that it should be desolate for ever.
51:63. And when thou shalt have made an end of reading this book, thou
shalt tie a stone to it, and shalt throw it into the midst of the
51:64. And thou shalt say:  Thus shall Babylon sink, and she shall not
rise up from the affliction that I will bring upon her, and she shall
be utterly destroyed.  Thus far are the words of Jeremias.
Jeremias Chapter 52
A recapitulation of the reign of Sedecias, and the destruction of
Jerusalem.  The number of the captives.
52:1. Sedecias was one and twenty years old when he began to reign:  and
he reigned eleven years in Jerusalem:  and the name of his mother was
Amital, the daughter of Jeremias of Lobna.
52:2. And he did that which was evil in the eyes of the Lord, according
to all that Joakim had done.
52:3. For the wrath of the Lord was against Jerusalem, and against
Juda, till he cast them out from his presence:  and Sedecias revolted
from the king of Babylon.
52:4. And it came to pass in the ninth year of his reign, in the tenth
month, the tenth day of the month, that Nabuchodonosor the king of
Babylon came, he and all his army, against Jerusalem, and they besieged
it, and built forts against it round about.
52:5. And the city was besieged until the eleventh year of king
52:6. And in the fourth month, the ninth day of the month, a famine
overpowered the city:  and there was no food for the people of the land.
52:7. And the city was broken up, and the men of war fled, and went out
of the city in the night by the way of the gate that is between the two
walls, and leadeth to the king's garden, (the Chaldeans besieging the
city round about,) and they went by the way that leadeth to the
52:8. But the army of the Chaldeans pursued after the king:  and they
overtook Sedecias in the desert which is near Jericho:  and all his
companions were scattered from him.
52:9. And when they had taken the king, they carried him to the king of
Babylon to Reblatha, which is in the land of Emath:  and he gave
judgment upon him.
52:10. And the king of Babylon slew the sons of Sedecias before his
eyes:  and he slew all the princes of Juda in Reblatha.
52:11. And he put out the eyes of Sedecias, and bound him with fetters,
and the king of Babylon brought him into Babylon, and he put him in
prison till the day of his death.
52:12. And in the fifth month, the tenth day of the month, the same is
the nineteenth year of Nabuchodonosor, king of Babylon, came Nabuzardan
the general of the army, who stood before the king of Babylon in
52:13. And he burnt the house of the Lord, and the king's house, and
all the houses of Jerusalem, and every great house he burnt with fire.
52:14. And all the army of the Chaldeans that were with the general
broke down all the wall of Jerusalem round about.
52:15. But Nabuzardan the general carried away captives some of the
poor people, and of the rest of the common sort who remained in the
city, and of the fugitives that were fled over to the king of Babylon,
and the rest of the multitude.
52:16. But of the poor of the land, Nabuzardan the general left some
for vinedressers, and for husbandmen.
52:17. The Chaldeans also broke in pieces the brazen pillars that were
in the house of the Lord, and the bases, and the sea of brass that was
in the house of the Lord:  and they carried all the brass of them to
52:18. And they took the caldrons, and the fleshhooks, and the
psalteries, and the bowls, and the little mortars, and all the brazen
vessels that had been used in the ministry:  and
52:19. The general took away the pitchers, and the censers, and the
pots, and the basins, and the candlesticks, and the mortars, and the
cups:  as many as were of gold, in gold:  and as many as were of silver,
52:20. And the two pillars, and one sea, and twelve oxen of brass that
were under the bases, which king Solomon had made in the house of the
Lord:  there was no weight of the brass of all these vessels.
52:21. And concerning the pillars, one pillar was eighteen cubits high:
and a cord of twelve cubits compassed it about:  but the thickness
thereof was four fingers, and it was hollow within.
52:22. And chapiters of brass were upon both:  and the height of one
chapiter was five cubits:  and network, and pomegranates were upon the
chapiters round about, all of brass.  The same of the second pillar, and
the pomegranates.
52:23. And there were ninety-six pomegranates hanging down:  and the
pomegranates being a hundred in all, were compassed with network.
52:24. And the general took Saraias the chief priest, and Sophonias the
second priest, and the three keepers of the entry.
52:25. He also took out of the city one eunuch that was chief over the
men of war:  and seven men of them that were near the king's person,
that were found in the city:  and a scribe, an officer of the army who
exercised the young soldiers:  and threescore men of the people of the
land, that were found in the midst of the city.
52:26. And Nabuzardan the general took them, and brought them to the
king of Babylon, to Reblatha.
52:27. And the king of Babylon struck them, and put them to death in
Reblatha, in the land of Emath:  and Juda was carried away captive out
of his land.
52:28. This is the people whom Nabuchodonosor carried away captive:  in
the seventh year, three thousand and twenty-three Jews.
52:29. In the eighteenth year of Nabuchodonosor, eight hundred and
thirty-two souls from Jerusalem.
52:30. In the three and twentieth year of Nabuchodonosor, Nabuzardan
the general carried away of the Jews seven hundred and forty-five
souls.  So all the souls were four thousand six hundred.
52:31. And it came to pass in the seven and thirtieth year of the
captivity of Joachin king of Juda, in the twelfth month, the five and
twentieth day of the month, that Evilmerodach king of Babylon, in the
first year of his reign, lifted up the head of Joachin king of Juda,
and brought him forth out of prison.
52:32. And he spoke kindly to him, and he set his throne above the
thrones of the kings that were with him in Babylon.
52:33. And he changed his prison garments, and he ate bread before him
always all the days of his life.
52:34. And for his diet a continual provision was allowed him by the
king of Babylon, every day a portion, until the day of his death, all
the days of his life.
THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMIAS
In these JEREMIAS laments in a most pathetical manner the miseries of
his people, and the destruction of JERUSALEM and the temple, in Hebrew
verses, beginning with different letters according to the order of the
Hebrew alphabet.
Lamentations Chapter 1
PREFACE:  And it came to pass, after Israel was carried into captivity,
and Jerusalem was desolate, that Jeremias the prophet sat weeping, and
mourned with this lamentation over Jerusalem, and with a sorrowful
mind, sighing and moaning, he said:
And it came to pass, etc. . .This preface was not written by Jeremias,
but was added by the seventy interpreters, to give the reader to
understand upon what occasion the Lamentations were published.
1:1. Aleph.  How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people! how
is the mistress of the Gentiles become as a widow:  the princes of
provinces made tributary!
1:2. Beth.  Weeping, she hath wept in the night, and her tears are on
her cheeks:  there is none to comfort her among all them that were dear
to her:  all her friends have despised her, and are become her enemies.
1:3. Ghimel.  Juda hath removed her dwelling place, because of her
affliction, and the greatness of her bondage; she hath dwelt among the
nations, and she hath found no rest; all her persecutors have taken her
in the midst of straits.
1:4. Daleth.  The ways of Sion mourn, because there are none that come
to the solemn feast:  all her gates are broken down; her priests sigh;
her virgins are in affliction; and she is oppressed with bitterness.
1:5. He.  Her adversaries are become her lords; her enemies are
enriched; because the Lord hath spoken against her for the multitude of
her iniquities; her children are led into captivity, before the face of
the oppressor.
1:6. Vau.  And from the daughter of Sion, all her beauty is departed;
her princes are become like rams that find no pastures; and they are
gone away without strength before the face of the pursuer.
1:7. Zain.  Jerusalem hath remembered the days of her affliction, and
prevarication of all her desirable things which she had from the days
of old, when her people fell in the enemy's hand, and there was no
helper; the enemies have seen her, and have mocked at her sabbaths.
1:8. Heth.  Jerusalem hath grievously sinned, therefore is she become
unstable; all that honoured her, have despised her, because they have
seen her shame; but she sighed, and turned backward.
1:9. Teth.  Her filthiness is on her feet, and she hath not remembered
her end; she is wonderfully cast down, not having a comforter:  behold,
O Lord, my affliction, because the enemy is lifted up.
1:10. Jod.  The enemy hath put out his hand to all her desirable things:
for she hath seen the Gentiles enter into her sanctuary, of whom thou
gavest commandment that they should not enter into thy church.
1:11. Caph.  All her people sigh, they seek bread:  they have given all
their precious things for food to relieve the soul:  see, O Lord, and
consider, for I am become vile.
1:12. Lamed.  O all ye that pass by the way, attend, and see if there be
any sorrow like to my sorrow:  for he hath made a vintage of me, as the
Lord spoke in the day of his fierce anger.
1:13. Mem.  From above he hath sent fire into my bones, and hath
chastised me:  he hath spread a net for my feet, he hath turned me back:
he hath made me desolate, wasted with sorrow all the day long.
1:14. Nun.  The yoke of my iniquities hath watched:  they are folded
together in his hand, and put upon my neck:  my strength is weakened:
the Lord hath delivered me into a hand, out of which I am not able to
1:15. Samech.  The Lord hath taken away all my mighty men out of the
midst of me:  he hath called against me the time, to destroy my chosen
men:  the Lord hath trodden the winepress for the virgin daughter of
1:16. Ain.  Therefore do I weep, and my eyes run down with water:
because the comforter, the relief of my soul, is far from me:  my
children are desolate because the enemy hath prevailed.
1:17. Phe.  Sion hath spread forth her hands, there is none to comfort
her:  the Lord hath commanded against Jacob, his enemies are round about
him:  Jerusalem is as a menstruous woman among them.
1:18. Sade.  The Lord is just, for I have provoked his mouth to wrath:
hear, I pray you, all ye people, and see my sorrow:  my virgins, and my
young men are gone into captivity.
1:19. Coph.  I called for my friends, but they deceived me:  my priests
and my ancients pined away in the city:  while they sought their food,
to relieve their souls.
1:20. Res.  Behold, O Lord, for I am in distress, my bowels are
troubled:  my heart is turned within me, for I am full of bitterness:
abroad the sword destroyeth and at home there is death alike.
1:21. Sin.  They have heard that I sigh, and there is none to comfort
me:  all my enemies have heard of my evil, they have rejoiced that thou
hast done it:  thou hast brought a day of consolation, and they shall be
like unto me.
1:22. Thau.  Let all their evil be present before thee:  and make vintage
of them, as thou hast made vintage of me for all my iniquities:  for my
sighs are many, and my heart is sorrowful.
Lamentations Chapter 2
2:1. Aleph.  How hath the Lord covered with obscurity the daughter of
Sion in his wrath! how hath he cast down from heaven to the earth the
glorious one of Israel, and hath not remembered his footstool in the
day of his anger.
2:2. Beth.  The Lord hath cast down headlong, and hath not spared, all
that was beautiful in Jacob:  he hath destroyed in his wrath the strong
holds of the virgin of Juda, and brought them down to the ground:  he
hath made the kingdom unclean, and the princes thereof.
2:3. Ghimel.  He hath broken in his fierce anger all the horn of Israel:
he hath drawn back his right hand from before the enemy:  and he hath
kindled in Jacob as it were a flaming fire devouring round about.
2:4. Daleth.  He hath bent his bow as an enemy, he hath fixed his right
hand as an adversary:  and he hath killed all that was fair to behold in
the tabernacle of the daughter of Sion, he hath poured out his
indignation like fire.
2:5. He.  The Lord is become as an enemy:  he hath cast down Israel
headlong, he hath overthrown all the walls thereof:  he hath destroyed
his strong holds, and hath multiplied in the daughter of Juda the
afflicted, both men and women.
2:6. Vau.  And he hath destroyed his tent as a garden, he hath thrown
down his tabernacle:  the Lord hath caused feasts and sabbaths to be
forgotten in Sion:  and hath delivered up king and priest to reproach,
and to the indignation of his wrath.
2:7. Zain.  The Lord hath cast off his altar, he hath cursed his
sanctuary:  he hath delivered the walls of the towers thereof into the
hand of the enemy:  they have made a noise in the house of the Lord, as
in the day of a solemn feast.
He hath cursed his sanctuary. . .That is, he permitted his sanctuary to
be destroyed, as if it had not been consecrated, but execrable.
2:8. Heth.  The Lord hath purposed to destroy the wall of the daughter
of Sion:  he hath stretched out his line, and hath not withdrawn his
hand from destroying:  and the bulwark hath mourned, and the wall hath
been destroyed together.
2:9. Teth.  Her gates are sunk into the ground:  he hath destroyed, and
broken her bars:  her king and her princes are among the Gentiles:  the
law is no more, and her prophets have found no vision from the Lord.
2:10. Jod.  The ancients of the daughter of Sion sit upon the ground,
they have held their peace:  they have sprinkled their heads with dust,
they are girded with haircloth, the virgins of Jerusalem hang down
their heads to the ground.
2:11. Caph.  My eyes have failed with weeping, my bowels are troubled:
my liver is poured out upon the earth, for the destruction of the
daughter of my people, when the children, and the sucklings, fainted
away in the streets of the city.
2:12. Lamed.  They said to their mothers:  Where is corn and wine?  when
they fainted away as the wounded in the streets of the city:  when they
breathed out their souls in the bosoms of their mothers.
2:13. Mem.  To what shall I compare thee?  or to what shall I liken thee,
O daughter of Jerusalem?  to what shall I equal thee, that I may comfort
thee, O virgin daughter of Sion?  for great as the sea is thy
destruction:  who shall heal thee?
2:14. Nun.  Thy prophets have seen false and foolish things for thee:
and they have not laid open thy iniquity, to excite thee to penance:
but they have seen for thee false revelations and banishments.
2:15. Samech.  All they that passed by the way have clapped their hands
at thee:  they have hissed, and wagged their heads at the daughter of
Jerusalem, saying:  Is this the city of perfect beauty, the joy of all
2:16. Phe.  All thy enemies have opened their month against thee:  they
have hissed, and gnashed with the teeth, and have said:  We will swallow
her up:  lo, this is the day which we looked for:  we have found it, we
have seen it.
2:17. Ain.  The Lord hath done that which he purposed, he hath fulfilled
his word, which he commanded in the days of old:  he hath destroyed, and
hath not spared, and he hath caused the enemy to rejoice over thee, and
hath set up the horn of thy adversaries.
2:18. Sade.  Their heart cried to the Lord upon the walls of the
daughter of Sion:  Let tears run down like a torrent day and night:  give
thyself no rest, and let not the apple of thy eye cease.
2:19. Coph.  Arise, give praise in the night, in the beginning of the
watches:  pour out thy heart like water, before the face of the Lord:
lift up thy hands to him for the life of thy little children, that have
fainted for hunger at the top of all the streets.
2:20. Res.  Behold, O Lord, and consider whom thou hast thus dealt with:
shall women then eat their own fruit, their children of a span long?
shall the priest and the prophet be slain in the sanctuary of the Lord?
2:21. Sin.  The child and the old man lie without on the ground:  my
virgins and my young men are fallen by the sword:  thou hast slain them
in the day of thy wrath:  thou hast killed, and shewn them no pity.
2:22. Thau.  Thou hast called as to a festival, those that should
terrify me round about, and there was none in the day of the wrath of
the Lord that escaped and was left:  those that I brought up, and
nourished, my enemy hath consumed them.
Lamentations Chapter 3
3:1. Aleph.  I am the man that see my poverty by the rod of his
indignation.
3:2. Aleph.  He hath led me, and brought me into darkness, and not into
3:3. Aleph.  Only against me he hath turned, and turned again his hand
all the day.
3:4. Beth.  My skin and my flesh he hath made old, he hath broken my
3:5. Beth.  He hath built round about me, and he hath compassed me with
gall, and labour.
3:6. Beth.  He hath set me in dark places as those that are dead for
3:7. Ghimel.  He hath built against me round about, that I may not get
out:  he hath made my fetters heavy.
3:8. Ghimel.  Yea, and when I cry, and entreat, he hath shut out my
3:9. Ghimel.  He hath shut up my ways with square stones, he hath turned
my paths upside down.
3:10. Daleth.  He is become to me as a bear lying in wait:  as a lion in
secret places.
3:11. Daleth.  He hath turned aside my paths, and hath broken me in
pieces, he hath made me desolate.
3:12. Daleth.  He hath bent his bow, and set me as a mark for his
3:13. He.  He hath shot into my reins the daughters of his quiver.
3:14. He.  I am made a derision to all my people, their song all the day
3:15. He.  He hath filled me with bitterness, he hath inebriated me with
3:16. Vau.  And he hath broken my teeth one by one, he hath fed me with
3:17. Vau.  And my soul is removed far off from peace, I have forgotten
good things.
3:18. Vau.  And I said:  My end and my hope is perished from the Lord.
3:19. Zain.  Remember my poverty, and transgression, the wormwood and
3:20. Zain.  I will be mindful and remember, and my soul shall languish
3:21. Zain.  These things I shall think over in my heart, therefore will
3:22. Heth.  The mercies of the Lord that we are not consumed:  because
his commiserations have not failed.
3:23. Heth.  They are new every morning, great is thy faithfulness.
3:24. Heth.  The Lord is my portion, said my soul:  therefore will I wait
3:25. Teth.  The Lord is good to them that hope in him, to the soul that
seeketh him.
3:26. Teth.  It is good to wait with silence for the salvation of God.
3:27. Teth.  It is good for a man, when he hath borne the yoke from his
3:28. Jod.  He shall sit solitary, and hold his peace:  because he hath
taken it up upon himself.
3:29. Jod.  He shall put his mouth in the dust, if so be there may be
3:30. Jod.  He shall give his cheek to him that striketh him, he shall
be filled with reproaches.
3:31. Caph.  For the Lord will not cast off for ever.
3:32. Caph.  For if he hath cast off, he will also have mercy, according
to the multitude of his mercies.
3:33. Caph.  For he hath not willingly afflicted, nor cast off the
children of men.
3:34. Lamed.  To crush under his feet all the prisoners of the land,
3:35. Lamed.  To turn aside the judgment of a man before the face of the
3:36. Lamed.  To destroy a man wrongfully in his judgment, the Lord hath
not approved.
3:37. Mem.  Who is he that hath commanded a thing to be done, when the
Lord commandeth it not?
3:38. Mem.  Shall not both evil and good proceed out of the mouth of the
3:39. Mem.  Why hath a living man murmured, man suffering for his sins?
3:40. Nun.  Let us search our ways, and seek, and return to the Lord.
3:41. Nun.  Let us lift up our hearts with our hands to the Lord in the
3:42. Nun.  We have done wickedly, and provoked thee to wrath:  therefore
thou art inexorable.
3:43. Samech.  Thou hast covered in thy wrath, and hast struck us:  thou
hast killed and hast not spared.
3:44. Samech.  Thou hast set a cloud before thee, that our prayer may
not pass through.
3:45. Samech.  Thou hast made me as an outcast, and refuse in the midst
of the people.
3:46. Phe.  All our enemies have opened their mouths against us.
3:47. Phe.  Prophecy is become to us a fear, and a snare, and
destruction.
3:48. Phe.  My eye hath run down with streams of water, for the
destruction of the daughter of my people.
3:49. Ain.  My eye is afflicted, and hath not been quiet, because there
was no rest:
3:50. Ain.  Till the Lord regarded and looked down from the heavens.
3:51. Ain.  My eye hath wasted my soul because of all the daughters of
3:52. Sade.  My enemies have chased me and caught me like a bird,
without cause.
3:53. Sade.  My life is fallen into the pit, and they have laid a stone
3:54. Sade.  Waters have flowed over my head:  I said:  I am cut off.
3:55. Coph.  I have called upon thy name, O Lord, from the lowest pit.
3:56. Coph.  Thou hast heard my voice:  turn not away thy ear from my
sighs, and cries.
3:57. Coph.  Thou drewest near in the day, when I called upon thee, thou
saidst:  Fear not.
3:58. Res.  Thou hast judged, O Lord, the cause of my soul, thou the
Redeemer of my life.
3:59. Res.  Thou hast seen, O Lord, their iniquity against me:  judge
thou my judgment.
3:60. Res.  Thou hast seen all their fury, and all their thoughts
3:61. Sin.  Thou hast heard their reproach, O Lord, all their
imaginations against me.
3:62. Sin.  The lips of them that rise up against me:  and their devices
against me all the day.
3:63. Sin.  Behold their sitting down, and their rising up, I am their
3:64. Thau.  Thou shalt render them a recompense, O Lord, according to
the works of their hands.
3:65. Thau.  Thou shalt give them a buckler of heart, thy labour.
3:66. Thau.  Thou shalt persecute them in anger, and shalt destroy them
from under the heavens, O Lord.
Lamentations Chapter 4
4:1. Aleph.  How is the gold become dim, the finest colour is changed,
the stones of the sanctuary are scattered in the top of every street?
4:2. Beth.  The noble sons of Sion, and they that were clothed with the
best gold:  how are they esteemed as earthen vessels, the work of the
potter's hands?
4:3. Ghimel.  Even the sea monsters have drawn out the breast, they have
given suck to their young:  the daughter of my people is cruel, like the
ostrich in the desert.
4:4. Daleth.  The tongue of the sucking child hath stuck to the roof of
his mouth for thirst:  the little ones have asked for bread, and there
was none to break it unto them.
4:5. He.  They that were fed delicately have died in the streets:  they
that were brought up in scarlet have embraced the dung.
4:6. Vau.  And the iniquity of the daughter of my people is made greater
than the sin of Sodom, which was overthrown in a moment, and hands took
nothing in her.
4:7. Zain.  Her Nazarites were whiter than snow, purer than milk, more
ruddy than the old ivory, fairer than the sapphire.
4:8. Heth.  Their face is now made blacker than coals, and they are not
known in the streets:  their skin hath stuck to their bones, it is
withered, and is become like wood.
4:9. Teth.  It was better with them that were slain by the sword, than
with them that died with hunger:  for these pined away being consumed
for want of the fruits of the earth.
4:10. Jod.  The hands of the pitiful women have sodden their own
children:  they were their meat in the destruction of the daughter of my
4:11. Caph.  The Lord hath accomplished his wrath, he hath poured out
his fierce anger:  and he hath kindled a fire in Sion, and it hath
devoured the foundations thereof.
4:12. Lamed.  The kings of the earth, and all the inhabitants of the
world would not have believed, that the adversary and the enemy should
enter in by the gates of Jerusalem.
4:13. Mem.  For the sins of her prophets, and the iniquities of her
priests, that have shed the blood of the just in the midst of her.
4:14. Nun.  They have wandered as blind men in the streets, they were
defiled with blood:  and when they could not help walking in it, they
held up their skirts.
4:15. Samech.  Depart you that are defiled, they cried out to them:
Depart, get ye hence, touch not:  for they quarrelled, and being
removed, they said among the Gentiles:  He will no more dwell among
4:16. Phe.  The face of the Lord hath divided them, he will no more
regard them:  they respected not the persons of the priests, neither had
they pity on the ancient.
4:17. Ain.  While we were yet standing, our eyes failed, expecting help
for us in vain, when we looked attentively towards a nation that was
not able to save.
4:18. Sade.  Our steps have slipped in the way of our streets, our end
draweth near:  our days are fulfilled, for our end is come.
4:19. Coph.  Our persecutors were swifter than the eagles of the air:
they pursued us upon the mountains, they lay in wait for us in the
4:20. Res.  The breath of our mouth, Christ the Lord, is taken in our
sins:  to whom we said:  Under thy shadow we shall live among the
Christ, etc. . .This, according to the letter, is spoken of their king,
who is called the Christ, that is, the Anointed of the Lord.  But it
also relates, in the spiritual sense, to Christ our Lord, suffering for
4:21. Sin.  Rejoice, and be glad, O daughter of Edom, that dwellest in
the land of Hus:  to thee also shall the cup come, thou shalt be made
drunk, and naked.
4:22. Thau.  Thy iniquity is accomplished, O daughter of Sion, he will
no more carry thee away into captivity:  he hath visited thy iniquity, O
daughter of Edom, he hath discovered thy sins.
THE PRAYER OF JEREMIAS THE PROPHET
Lamentations Chapter 5
5:1. Remember, O Lord, what is come upon us:  consider and behold our
5:2. Our inheritance is turned to aliens:  our houses to strangers.
5:3. We are become orphans without a father:  our mothers are as widows.
5:4. We have drunk our water for money:  we have bought our wood.
5:6. We were dragged by the necks, we were weary and no rest was given
5:6. We have given our hand to Egypt, and to the Assyrians, that we
might be satisfied with bread.
5:7. Our fathers have sinned, and are not:  and we have borne their
5:8. Servants have ruled over us:  there was none to redeem us out of
5:9. We fetched our bread at the peril of our lives, because of the
sword in the desert.
5:10. Our skin was burnt as an oven, by reason of the violence of the
5:11. They oppressed the women in Sion, and the virgins in the cities
5:12. The princes were hanged up by their hand:  they did not respect
the persons of the ancients.
5:13. They abused the young men indecently:  and the children fell under
5:14. The ancients have ceased from the gates:  the young men from the
choir of the singers.
5:15. The joy of our heart is ceased, our dancing is turned into
5:16. The crown is fallen from our head:  woe to us, because we have
5:17. Therefore is our heart sorrowful, therefore are our eyes become
5:18. For mount Sion, because it is destroyed, foxes have walked upon
5:19. But thou, O Lord, shalt remain for ever, thy throne from
generation to generation.
5:20. Why wilt thou forget us for ever?  why wilt thou forsake us for a
5:21. Convert us, O Lord, to thee, and we shall be converted:  renew our
days, as from the beginning.
5:22. But thou hast utterly rejected us, thou art exceedingly angry
THE PROPHECY OF BARUCH
BARUCH was a man of noble extraction, and learned in the law, secretary
and disciple to the prophet JEREMIAS, and a sharer in his labours and
persecutions:  which is the reason why the ancient fathers have
considered this book as a part of the prophecy of JEREMIAS, and have
usually quoted it under his name.
Baruch Chapter 1
The Jews of Babylon send the book of Baruch with money to Jerusalem,
requesting their brethren there to offer sacrifice, and to pray for the
king and for them, acknowledging their manifold sins.
1:1. And these are the words of the book, which Baruch the son of
Nerias, the son of Maasias, the son of Sedecias, the son of Sedei, the
son Helcias, wrote in Babylonia.
1:2. In the fifth year, in the seventh day of the month, at the time
that the Chaldeans took Jerusalem, and burnt it with fire.
1:3. And Baruch read the words of this book in the hearing of Jechonias
the son of Joakim king of Juda, and in the hearing of all the people
that came to hear the book.
1:4. And in the hearing of the nobles, the sons of the kings, and in
the hearing of the ancients, and in the hearing of the people, from the
least even to the greatest of them that dwelt in Babylonia, by the
1:5. And when they heard it they wept, and fasted, and prayed before
1:6. And they made a collection of money according to every man's
1:7. And they sent it to Jerusalem to Joakim the priest, the son of
Helcias, the son of Salom, and to the priests, and to all the people,
that were found with him in Jerusalem:
1:8. At the time when he received the vessels of the temple of the
Lord, which had been taken away out of the temple, to return them into
the land of Juda the tenth day of the month Sivan, the silver vessels,
which Sedecias the son of Josias king of Juda had made,
1:9. After that Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon had carried away
Jechonias, and the princes, and all the powerful men, and the people of
the land from Jerusalem, and brought them bound to Babylon.
1:10. And they said:  Behold we have sent you money, buy with it
holocausts, and frankincense, and make meat offerings, and offerings
for sin at the altar of the Lord our God:
1:11. And pray ye for the life of Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon,
and for the life of Balthasar his son, that their days may be upon
earth as the days of heaven:
1:12. And that the Lord may give us strength, and enlighten our eyes,
that we may live under the shadow of Nabuchodonosor the king of
Babylon, and under the shadow of Balthasar his son, and may serve them
many days, and may find favour in their sight.
1:13. And pray ye for us to the Lord our God:  for we have sinned
against the Lord our God, and his wrath is not turned away from us even
to this day.
1:14. And read ye this book, which we have sent to you to be read in
the temple of the Lord, on feasts, and proper days.
1:15. And you shall say:  To the Lord our God belongeth justice, but to
us confusion of our face:  as it is come to pass at this day to all
Juda, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem,
1:16. To our kings, and to our princes, and to our priests, and to our
prophets, and to our fathers.
1:17. We have sinned before the Lord our God, and have not believed
him, nor put our trust in him:
1:18. And we were not obedient to him, and we have not hearkened to the
voice of the Lord our God, to walk in his commandments which he hath
1:19. From the day that he brought our fathers out of the land of
Egypt, even to this day, we were disobedient to the Lord our God:  and
going astray we turned away from hearing his voice.
1:20. And many evils have cleaved to us, and the curses which the Lord
foretold by Moses his servant:  who brought our fathers out of the land
of Egypt, to give us a land flowing with milk and honey, as at this
1:21. And we have not hearkened to the voice of the Lord our God
according to all the words of the prophets whom he sent to us:
1:22. And we have gone away every man after the inclinations of his own
wicked heart, to serve strange gods, and to do evil in the sight of the
Lord our God.
Baruch Chapter 2
A further confession of the sins of the people, and of the justice of
2:1. Wherefore the Lord our God hath made good his word, that he spoke
to us, and to our judges that have judged Israel, and to our kings, and
to our princes, and to all Israel and Juda:
2:2. That the Lord would bring upon us great evils, such as never
happened under heaven, as they have come to pass in Jerusalem,
according to the things that are written in the law of Moses:
2:3. That a man should eat the flesh of his own son, and the flesh of
his own daughter.
2:4. And he hath delivered them up to be under the hand of all the
kings that are round about us, to be a reproach, and desolation among
all the people, among whom the Lord hath scattered us.
2:5. And we are brought under, and are not uppermost:  because we have
sinned against the Lord our God, by not obeying his voice.
2:6. To the Lord our God belongeth justice:  but to us, and to our
fathers confusion of face, as at this day.
2:7. For the Lord hath pronounced against us all these evils that are
come upon us:
2:8. And we have not entreated the face of the Lord our God, that we
might return every one of us from our most wicked ways.
2:9. And the Lord hath watched over us for evil, and hath brought it
upon us:  for the Lord is just in all his works which he hath commanded
2:10. And we have not hearkened to his voice to walk in the
commandments of the Lord which he hath set before us.
2:11. And now, O Lord God of Israel, who hast brought thy people out of
the land of Egypt with a strong hand, and with signs, and with wonders,
and with thy great power, and with a mighty arm, and hast made thee a
name as at this day,
2:12. We have sinned, we have done wickedly, we have acted unjustly, O
Lord our God, against all thy justices.
2:13. Let thy wrath be turned away from us:  for we are left a few among
the nations where thou hast scattered us.
2:14. Hear, O Lord, our prayers, and our petitions, and deliver us for
thy own sake:  and grant that we may find favour in the sight of them
that have led us away:
2:15. That all the earth may know that thou art the Lord our God, and
that thy name is called upon Israel, and upon his posterity.
2:16. Look down upon us, O Lord, from thy holy house, and incline thy
ear, and hear us.
2:17. Open thy eyes, and behold:  for the dead that are in hell, whose
spirit is taken away from their bowels, shall not give glory and
justice to the Lord:
Justice, etc. . .They that are in hell shall not give justice to God;
that is, they shall not acknowledge and glorify his justice as penitent
sinners do upon earth.
2:18. But the soul that is sorrowful for the greatness of evil she hath
done, and goeth bowed down, and feeble, and the eyes that fail, and the
hungry soul giveth glory and justice to thee the Lord.
2:19. For it is not for the justices of our fathers that we pour out
our prayers, and beg mercy in thy sight, O Lord our God:
2:20. But because thou hast sent out thy wrath, and thy indignation
upon us, as thou hast spoken by the hand of thy servants the prophets,
2:21. Thus saith the Lord:  Bow down your shoulder, and your neck, and
serve the king of Babylon:  and you shall remain in the land which I
have given to your fathers.
2:22. But if you will not hearken to the voice of the Lord your God, to
serve the king of Babylon:  I will cause you to depart out of the cities
of Juda, and from without Jerusalem.
2:23. And I will take away from you the voice of mirth, and the voice
of joy, and the voice of the bridegroom, and the voice of the bride,
and all the land shall be without any footstep of inhabitants.
2:24. And they hearkened not to thy voice, to serve the king of
Babylon:  and thou hast made good thy words, which thou spokest by the
hands of thy servants the prophets, that the bones of our kings, and
the bones of our fathers should be removed out of their place:
2:25. And behold they are cast out to the heat of the sun, and to the
frost of the night:  and they have died in grievous pains, by famine,
and by the sword, and in banishment.
2:26. And thou hast made the temple, in which thy name was called upon,
as it is at this day, for the iniquity of the house of Israel, and the
house of Juda.
2:27. And thou hast dealt with us, O Lord our God, according to all thy
goodness, and according to all that great mercy of thine:
2:28. As thou spokest by the hand of thy servant Moses, in the day when
thou didst command him to write thy law before the children of Israel,
2:29. Saying:  If you will not hear my voice, this great multitude shall
be turned into a very small number among the nations, where I will
scatter them:
2:30. For I know that the people will not hear me, for they are a
people of a stiff neck:  but they shall turn to their heart in the land
of their captivity:
2:31. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God:  and I will give
them a heart, and they shall understand:  and ears, and they shall hear.
2:32. And they shall praise me in the land of their captivity, and
shall be mindful of my name.
2:33. And they shall turn away themselves from their stiff neck, and
from their wicked deeds:  for they shall remember the way of their
fathers, that sinned against me.
2:34. And I will bring them back again into the land which I promised
with an oath to their fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and they
shall be masters thereof:  and I will multiply them, and they shall not
be diminished.
2:35. And I will make with them another covenant that shall be
everlasting, to be their God, and they shall be my people:  and I will
no more remove my people, the children of Israel, out of the land that
I have given them.
Baruch Chapter 3
They pray for mercy, acknowledging that they are justly punished for
forsaking true wisdom.  A prophecy of Christ.
3:1. And now, O Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, the soul in anguish,
and the troubled spirit crieth to thee:
3:2. Hear, O Lord, and have mercy, for thou art a merciful God, and
have pity on us:  for we have sinned before thee.
3:3. For thou remainest for ever, and shall we perish everlastingly?
3:4. O Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, hear now the prayer of the
dead of Israel, and of their children, that have sinned before thee,
and have not hearkened to the voice of the Lord their God, wherefore
evils have cleaved fast to us.
3:5. Remember not the iniquities of our fathers, but think upon thy
hand, and upon thy name at this time:
3:6. For thou art the Lord our God, and we will praise thee, O Lord:
3:7. Because for this end thou hast put thy fear in our hearts, to the
intent that we should call upon thy name, and praise thee in our
captivity, for we are converted from the iniquity of our fathers, who
sinned before thee.
3:8. And behold we are at this day in our captivity, whereby thou hast
scattered us to be a reproach, and a curse, and an offence, according
to all the iniquities of our fathers, who departed from thee, O Lord
3:9. Hear, O Israel, the commandments of life:  give ear, that thou
mayst learn wisdom.
3:10. How happeneth it, O Israel, that thou art in thy enemies' land?
3:11. Thou art grown old in a strange country, thou art defiled with
the dead:  thou art counted with them that go down into hell.
3:12. Thou hast forsaken the fountain of wisdom:
3:13. For if thou hadst walked in the way of God, thou hadst surely
dwelt in peace for ever.
3:14. Learn where is wisdom, where is strength, where is understanding:
that thou mayst know also where is length of days and life, where is
the light of the eyes, and peace.
3:15. Who hath found out her place?  and who hath gone in to her
3:16. Where are the princes of the nations, and they that rule over the
beasts that are upon the earth?
3:17. That take their diversion with the birds of the air.
3:18. That hoard up silver and gold, wherein men trust, and there is no
end of their getting?  who work in silver and are solicitous, and their
works are unsearchable.
3:19. They are cut off, and are gone down to hell, and others are risen
up in their place.
3:20. Young men have seen the light, and dwelt upon the earth:  but the
way of knowledge they have not known,
3:21. Nor have they understood the paths thereof, neither have their
children received it, it is far from their face.
3:22. It hath not been heard of in the land of Chanaan, neither hath it
been seen in Theman.
Theman. . .The capital city of Edom.
3:23. The children of Agar also, that search after the wisdom that is
of the earth, the merchants of Merrha, and of Theman, and the tellers
of fables, and searchers of prudence and understanding:  but the way of
wisdom they have not known, neither have they remembered her paths.
Agar. . .The mother of the Ismaelites.
3:24. O Israel, how great is the house of God, and how vast is the
place of his possession!
3:25. It is great, and hath no end:  it is high and immense.
3:26. There were the giants, those renowned men that were from the
beginning, of great stature, expert in war.
3:27. The Lord chose not them, neither did they find the way of
knowledge:  therefore did they perish.
3:28. And because they had not wisdom, they perished through their
3:29. Who hath gone up into heaven, and taken her, and brought her down
from the clouds?
3:30. Who hath passed over the sea, and found her, and brought her
preferably to chosen gold?
3:31. There is none that is able to know her ways, nor that can search
out her paths:
3:32. But he that knoweth all things, knoweth her, and hath found her
out with his understanding:  he that prepared the earth for evermore,
and filled it with cattle and fourfooted beasts:
3:33. He that sendeth forth the light, and it goeth:  and hath called
it, and it obeyeth him with trembling.
3:34. And the stars have given light in their watches, and rejoiced:
3:35. They were called, and they said:  Here we are:  and with
cheerfulness they have shined forth to him that made them.
3:36. This is our God, and there shall no other be accounted of in
comparison of him.
3:37. He found out all the way of knowledge, and gave it to Jacob his
servant, and to Israel his beloved.
3:38. Afterwards he was seen upon earth, and conversed with men.
Was seen upon earth, etc. . .viz., by the mystery of the incarnation, by
means of which the son of God came visibly amongst us, and conversed
with men.  The prophets often speak of things to come as if they were
past, to express the certainty of the event of the things foretold.
Baruch Chapter 4
The prophet exhorts to the keeping of the law of wisdom, and encourages
the people to be patient, and to hope for their deliverance.
4:1. This is the book of the commandments of God, and the law, that is
for ever:  all they that keep it, shall come to life:  but they that have
forsaken it, to death.
4:2. Return, O Jacob, and take hold of it, walk in the way by its
brightness, in the presence of the light thereof.
4:3. Give not thy honour to another, nor thy dignity to a strange
4:4. We are happy, O Israel:  because the things that are pleasing to
God, are made known to us.
4:5. Be of good comfort, O people of God, the memorial of Israel:
4:6. You have been sold to the Gentiles, not for your destruction:  but
because you provoked God to wrath, you are delivered to your
adversaries.
4:7. For you have provoked him who made you, the eternal God, offering
sacrifice to devils, and not to God.
4:8. For you have forgotten God, who brought you up, and you have
grieved Jerusalem that nursed you.
4:9. For she saw the wrath of God coming upon you, and she said:  Give
ear, all you that dwell near Sion, for God hath brought upon me great
4:10. For I have seen the captivity of my people, of my sons, and my
daughters, which the Eternal hath brought upon them.
4:11. For I nourished them with joy:  but I sent them away with weeping
and mourning.
4:12. Let no man rejoice over me, a widow, and desolate:  I am forsaken
of many for the sins of my children, because they departed from the law
4:13. And they have not known his justices, nor walked by the ways of
God's commandments, neither have they entered by the paths of his truth
and justice.
4:14. Let them that dwell about Sion come, and remember the captivity
of my sons and daughters, which the Eternal hath brought upon them.
4:15. For he hath brought a nation upon them from afar, a wicked
nation, and of a strange tongue:
4:16. Who have neither reverenced the ancient, nor pitied children, and
have carried away the beloved of the widow, and have left me all alone
without children.
4:17. But as for me, what help can I give you?
4:18. But he that hath brought the evils upon you, he will deliver you
out of the hands of your enemies.
4:19. Go your way, my children, go your way:  for I am left alone.
4:20. I have put off the robe of peace, and have put upon me the
sackcloth of supplication, and I will cry to the most High in my days.
4:21. Be of good comfort, my children, cry to the Lord, and he will
deliver you out of the hand of the princes your enemies.
4:22. For my hope is in the Eternal that he will save you:  and joy is
come upon me from the Holy One, because of the mercy which shall come
to you from our everlasting Saviour.
4:23. For I sent you forth with mourning and weeping:  but the Lord will
bring you back to me with joy and gladness for ever.
4:24. For as the neighbours of Sion have now seen your captivity from
God:  so shall they also shortly see your salvation from God, which
shall come upon you with great honour, and everlasting glory.
4:25. My children, suffer patiently the wrath that is come upon you:
for thy enemy hath persecuted thee, but thou shalt quickly see his
destruction:  and thou shalt get up upon his neck.
4:26. My delicate ones have walked rough ways, for they were taken away
as a flock made a prey by the enemies.
4:27. Be of good comfort, my children, and cry to the Lord:  for you
shall be remembered by him that hath led you away.
4:28. For as it was your mind to go astray from God; so when you return
again you shall seek him ten times as much.
4:29. For he that hath brought evils upon you, shall bring you
everlasting joy again with your salvation.
4:30. Be of good heart, O Jerusalem:  for he exhorteth thee, that named
4:31. The wicked that have afflicted thee, shall perish:  and they that
have rejoiced at thy ruin, shall be punished.
4:32. The cities which thy children have served, shall be punished:  and
she that received thy sons.
She that received, etc. . .viz., Babylon.
4:33. For as she rejoiced at thy ruin, and was glad of thy fall:  so
shall she be grieved for her own desolation.
4:34. And the joy of her multitude shall be cut off:  and her gladness
shall be turned to mourning.
4:35. For fire shall come upon her from the Eternal, long to endure,
and she shall be inhabited by devils for a great time.
4:36. Look about thee, O Jerusalem, towards the east, and behold the
joy that cometh to thee from God.
4:37. For behold thy children come, whom thou sentest away scattered,
they come gathered together from the east even to the west, at the word
of the Holy One rejoicing for the honour of God.
Baruch Chapter 5
Jerusalem is invited to rejoice and behold the return of her children
out of their captivity.
5:1. Put off, O Jerusalem, the garment of thy mourning, and affliction:
and put on the beauty, and honour of that everlasting glory which thou
hast from God.
5:2. God will clothe thee with the double garment of justice, and will
set a crown on thy head of everlasting honour.
5:3. For God will shew his brightness in thee, to every one under
5:4. For thy name shall be named to thee by God for ever:  the peace of
justice, and honour of piety.
5:5. Arise, O Jerusalem, and stand on high:  and look about towards the
east, and behold thy children gathered together from the rising to the
setting sun, by the word of the Holy One rejoicing in the remembrance
5:6. For they went out from thee on foot, led by the enemies:  but the
Lord will bring them to thee exalted with honour as children of the
5:7. For God hath appointed to bring down every high mountain, and the
everlasting rocks, and to fill up the valleys to make them even with
the ground:  that Israel may walk diligently to the honour of God.
5:8. Moreover the woods, and every sweetsmelling tree have overshadowed
Israel by the commandment of God.
5:9. For God will bring Israel with joy in the light of his majesty,
with mercy, and justice, that cometh from him.
Baruch Chapter 6
The epistle of Jeremias to the captives, as a preservative against
A copy of the epistle that Jeremias sent to them that were to be led
away captives into Babylon, by the king of Babylon, to declare to them
according to what was commanded him by God.
6:1. For the sins that you have committed before God, you shall be
carried away captives into Babylon by Nabuchodonosor the king of
6:2. And when you are come into Babylon, you shall be there many years,
and for a long time, even to seven generations:  and after that I will
bring you away from thence with peace.
Seven generations. . .That is, seventy years.
6:3. But now, you shall see in Babylon gods of gold, and of silver, and
of stone, and of wood borne upon shoulders, causing fear to the
6:4. Beware therefore that you imitate not the doings of others, and be
afraid, and the fear of them should seize upon you.
6:5. But when you see the multitude behind, and before, adoring them,
say you in your hearts:  Thou oughtest to be adored, O Lord.
6:6. For my angel is with you:  And I myself will demand an account of
6:7. For their tongue that is polished by the craftsman, and themselves
laid over with gold and silver, are false things, and they cannot
6:8. And as if it were for a maiden that loveth to go gay:  so do they
take gold and make them up.
6:9. Their gods have golden crowns upon their heads:  whereof the
priests secretly convey away from them gold, and silver, and bestow it
on themselves.
6:10. Yea and they give thereof to prostitutes, and they dress out
harlots:  and again when they receive it of the harlots, they adorn
6:11. And these gods cannot defend themselves from the rust, and the
6:12. But when they have covered them with a purple garment, they wipe
their face because of the dust of the house, which is very much among
6:13. This holdeth a sceptre as a man, as a judge of the country, but
cannot put to death one that offendeth him.
6:14. And this hath in his hand a sword, or an axe, but cannot save
himself from war, or from robbers, whereby be it known to you, that
they are not gods.
6:15. Therefore fear them not.  For as a vessel that a man uses when it
is broken becometh useless, even so are their gods:
6:16. When they are placed in the house, their eyes are full of dust by
the feet of them that go in.
6:17. And as the gates are made sure on every side upon one that hath
offended the king, or like a dead man carried to the grave, so do the
priests secure the doors with bars and locks, lest they be stripped by
6:18. They light candles to them, and in great number, of which they
cannot see one:  but they are like beams in the house.
6:19. And they say that the creeping things which are of the earth,
gnaw their hearts, while they eat them and their garments, and they
feel it not.
6:20. Their faces are black with the smoke that is made in the house.
6:21. Owls, and swallows, and other birds fly upon their bodies, and
upon their heads, and cats in like manner.
6:22. Whereby you may know that they are no gods.  Therefore fear them
6:23. The gold also which they have, is for shew, but except a man wipe
off the rust, they will not shine:  for neither when they were molten,
did they feel it.
6:24. Men buy them at a high price, whereas there is no breath in them.
6:25. And having not the use of feet they are carried upon shoulders,
declaring to men how vile they are.  Be they confounded also that
worship them.
6:26. Therefore if they fall to the ground, they rise not up again of
themselves, nor if a man set them upright, will they stand by
themselves, but their gifts shall be set before them, as to the dead.
6:27. The things that are sacrificed to them, their priests sell and
abuse:  in like manner also their wives take part of them, but give
nothing of it either to the sick, or to the poor.
6:28. The childbearing and menstruous women touch their sacrifices:
knowing, therefore, by these things that they are not gods, fear them
6:29. For how can they be called gods?  because women set offerings
before the gods of silver, and of gold, and of wood:
6:30. And priests sit in their temples, having their garments rent, and
their heads and beards shaven, and nothing upon their heads.
6:31. And they roar and cry before their gods, as men do at the feast
when one is dead.
6:32. The priests take away their garments, and clothe their wives and
their children.
6:33. And whether it be evil that one doth unto them, or good, they are
not able to recompense it:  neither can they set up a king, nor put him
6:34. In like manner they can neither give riches, nor requite evil.  If
a man make a vow to them, and perform it not:  they cannot require it.
6:35. They cannot deliver a man from death, nor save the weak from the
6:36. They cannot restore the blind man to his sight:  nor deliver a man
from distress.
36:7. They shall not pity the widow, nor do good to the fatherless.
6:38. Their gods, of wood, and of stone, and of gold, and of silver,
are like the stones that are hewn out of the mountains:  and they that
worship them shall be confounded.
6:39. How then is it to be supposed, or to be said, that they are gods?
6:40. Even the Chaldeans themselves dishonor them:  who when they here
of one dumb that cannot speak, they present him to Bel, entreating him,
that he may speak.
6:41. As though they could be sensible that have no motion themselves:
and they, when they shall perceive this, will leave them:  for their
gods themselves have no sense.
6:42. The women also, with cords about them, sit in the ways, burning
olive-stones.
6:43. And when any one of them, drawn away by some passenger, lieth
with him, she upbraideth her neighbor, that she was not thought as
worthy as herself, nor her cord broken.
6:44. But all things that are done about them, are false:  how is it
then to be thought, or to be said, that they are gods?
6:45. And they are made by workmen, and by goldsmiths.  They shall be
nothing else but what the priests will have them to be.
6:46. For the artificers themselves that make them, are of no long
continuance.  Can those things then that are made by them, be gods?
6:47. But they have left false things and reproach to them that come
6:48. For when war cometh upon them , or evils:  the priests consult
with themselves, where they may hide themselves with them.
6:49. How then can they be thought to be gods, that can neither deliver
themselves from war, nor save themselves from evils?
6:50. For seeing they are but of wood, and laid over with gold, and
with silver, it shall be known hereafter that they are false things, by
all nations, and kings:  and it shall be manifest that they are no gods,
but the work of men's hands, and that there is no work of God in them.
6:51. Whence, therefore, is it known that they are not gods, but the
work of men's hands, and no work of God is in them?
6:52. They cannot set up a king over the land, nor give rain to men.
6:53. They determine no causes, nor deliver countries from oppression:
because they can do nothing, and are as daws between heaven and earth.
6:54. For when fire shall fall upon the house of these gods of wood,
and of silver, and of gold, their priests indeed will flee away, and be
saved:  but they themselves shall be burnt in the midst like beams.
6:55. And they cannot withstand a king and war.  How then can it be
supposed, or admitted, that they are gods?
6:56. Neither are these gods of wood, and of stone, and laid over with
gold, and with silver, able to deliver themselves from thieves or
robbers:  they that are stronger than them,
They that are stronger than them. . .That is, robbers and thieves are
stronger than these idols, being things without life or motion.
6:57. Shall take from them the gold, and silver, and the raiment
wherewith they are clothed, and shall go their way, neither shall they
help themselves.
6:58. Therefore it is better to be a king that sheweth his power:  or
else a profitable vessel in the house, with which the owner thereof
will be well satisfied:  or a door in the house, to keep things safe
that are therein, than such false gods.
6:59. The sun, and the moon, and the stars being bright, and sent forth
for profitable uses, are obedient.
6:60. In like manner the lightning, when it breaketh forth, is easy to
be seen:  and after the same manner the wind bloweth in every country.
6:61. And the clouds, when God commandeth them to go over the whole
world, do that which is commanded them.
6:62. The fire also being sent from above to consume mountains, and
woods, doth as it is commanded.  But these neither in shew, nor in
power, are alike to any one of them.
6:63. Wherefore it is neither to be thought, nor to be said, that they
are gods:  since they are neither able to judge causes, nor to do any
good to men.
6:64. Knowing, therefore, that they are not gods, fear them not.
6:65. For neither can they curse kings, nor bless them.
6:66. Neither do they shew signs in the heaven to the nations, nor
shine as the sun, nor give light as the moon.
6:67. Beasts are better than they, which can fly under a covert, and
help themselves.
6:68. Therefore there is no manner of appearance that they are gods:  so
fear them not.
6:69. For as a scarecrow in a garden of cucumbers keepeth nothing, so
are their gods of wood, and of silver, and laid over with gold.
6:70. They are no better than a white thorn in a garden, upon which
every bird sitteth.  In like manner also their gods of wood, and laid
over with gold, and with silver, are like to a dead body cast forth in
6:71. By the purple also and the scarlet which are motheaten upon them,
you shall know that they are not gods.  And they themselves at last are
consumed, and shall be a reproach in the country.
6:72. Better, therefore, is the just man that hath no idols:  for he
shall be far from reproach.
THE PROPHECY OF EZECHIEL
EZECHIEL, whose name signifies the STRENGTH OF GOD, was of the priestly
race; and of the number of captives that were carried away to Babylon
with king JOACHIN.  He was contemporary with JEREMIAS, and prophesied to
the same effect in Babylon, as JEREMIAS did in Jerusalem; and is said
to have ended his days in like manner, by martyrdom.
Ezechiel Chapter 1
The time of Ezechiel's prophecy:  he sees a glorious vision.
1:1. Now it came to pass in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on
the fifth day of the month, when I was in the midst of the captives by
the river Chobar, the heavens were opened, and I saw the visions of
The thirtieth year. . .Either of the age of Ezechiel; or, as others will
have it, from the solemn covenant made in the eighteenth year of the
reign of Josias.  4 Kings 23.
1:2. On the fifth day of the month, the same was the fifth year of the
captivity of king Joachin,
1:3. The word of the Lord came to Ezechiel the priest the son of Buzi
in the land of the Chaldeans, by the river Chobar:  and the hand of the
Lord was there upon him.
1:4. And I saw, and behold a whirlwind came out of the north:  and a
great cloud, and a fire infolding it, and brightness was about it:  and
out of the midst thereof, that is, out of the midst of the fire, as it
were the resemblance of amber:
1:5. And in the midst thereof the likeness of four living creatures:
and this was their appearance:  there was the likeness of a man in them.
Living creatures. . .Cherubims (as appears from Ecclesiasticus 49.10)
represented to the prophet under these mysterious shapes, as supporting
the throne of God, and as it were drawing his chariot.  All this chapter
appeared so obscure, and so full of mysteries to the ancient Hebrews,
that, as we learn from St. Jerome, (Ep. ad Paulin.,) they suffered none
to read it before they were thirty years old.
1:6. Every one had four faces, and every one four wings.
1:7. Their feet were straight feet, and the sole of their foot was like
the sole of a calf's foot, and they sparkled like the appearance of
glowing brass.
1:8. And they had the hands of a man under their wings on their four
sides:  and they had faces, and wings on the four sides,
1:9. And the wings of one were joined to the wings of another.  They
turned not when they went:  but every one went straight forward.
1:10. And as for the likeness of their faces:  there was the face of a
man, and the face of a lion on the right side of all the four:  and the
face of an ox, on the left side of all the four:  and the face of an
eagle over all the four.
1:11. And their faces, and their wings were stretched upward:  two wings
of every one were joined, and two covered their bodies:
1:12. And every one of them went straight forward:  whither the impulse
of the spirit was to go, thither they went:  and they turned not when
1:13. And as for the likeness of the living creatures, their appearance
was like that of burning coals of fire, and like the appearance of
lamps.  This was the vision running to and fro in the midst of the
living creatures, a bright fire, and lightning going forth from the
1:14. And the living creatures ran and returned like flashes of
1:15. Now as I beheld the living creatures, there appeared upon the
earth by the living creatures one wheel with four faces.
1:16. And the appearance of the wheels, and the work of them was like
the appearance of the sea:  and the four had all one likeness:  and their
appearance and their work was as it were a wheel in the midst of a
1:17. When they went, they went by their four parts:  and they turned
not when they went.
When they went, they went by their four parts. . .That is, indifferently
to any of their sides either forward or backward:  to the right or to
1:18. The wheels had also a size, and a height, and a dreadful
appearance:  and the whole body was full of eyes round about all the
1:19. And, when the living creatures went, the wheels also went
together by them:  and when the living creatures were lifted up from the
earth, the wheels also were lifted up with them.
1:20. Withersoever the spirit went, thither as the spirit went the
wheels also were lifted up withal, and followed it:  for the spirit of
life was in the wheels.
1:21. When those went these went, and when those stood these stood, and
when those were lifted up from the earth, the wheels were lifted up
together, and followed them:  for the spirit of life was in the wheels.
1:22. And over the heads of the living creatures was the likeness of
the firmament, the appearance of crystal terrible to behold, and
stretched out over their heads above.
1:23. And under the firmament were their wings straight, the one toward
the other, every one with two wings covered his body, and the other was
covered in like manner.
1:24. And I heard the noise of their wings, like the noise of many
waters, as it were the voice of the most high God:  when they walked, it
was like the voice of a multitude, like the noise of an army, and when
they stood, their wings were let down.
1:25. For when a voice came from above the firmament, that was over
their heads, they stood, and let down their wings.
1:26. And above the firmament that was over their heads, was the
likeness of a throne, as the appearance of the sapphire stone, and upon
the likeness of the throne, was the likeness of the appearance of a man
above upon it.
1:27. And I saw as it were the resemblance of amber as the appearance
of fire within it round about:  from his loins and upward, and from his
loins downward, I saw as it were the resemblance of fire shining round
1:28. As the appearance of the rainbow when it is in a cloud on a rainy
day:  this was the appearance of the brightness round about.
Ezechiel Chapter 2
The prophet receives his commission.
2:1. This was the vision of the likeness of the glory of the Lord, and
I saw, and I fell upon my face, and I heard the voice of one that
spoke, and he said to me:  Son of man, stand upon thy feet, and I will
speak to thee.
2:2. And the spirit entered into me after that he spoke to me, and he
set me upon my feet:  and I heard him speaking to me,
2:3. And saying:  Son of man, I send thee to the children of Israel, to
a rebellious people, that hath revolted from me, they, and their
fathers, have transgressed my covenant even unto this day.
2:4. And they to whom I send thee are children of a hard face, and of
an obstinate heart:  and thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord
2:5. If so be they at least will hear, and if so be they will forbear,
for they are a provoking house:  and they shall know that there hath
been a prophet in the midst of them.
2:6. And thou, O son of man, fear not, neither be thou afraid of their
words:  for thou art among unbelievers and destroyers, and thou dwellest
with scorpions.  Fear not their words, neither be thou dismayed at their
looks:  for they are a provoking house.
2:7. And thou shalt speak my words to them, if perhaps they will hear,
and forbear:  for they provoke me to anger.
2:8. But thou, O son of man, hear all that I say to thee:  and do not
thou provoke me, as that house provoketh me:  open thy mouth, and eat
what I give thee.
2:9. And I looked, and behold, a hand was sent to me, wherein was a
book rolled up:  and he spread it before me, and it was written within
and without:  and there were written in it lamentations, and canticles,
Ezechiel Chapter 3
The prophet eats the book, and receives further instructions:  the
office of a watchman.
3:1. And he said to me:  Son of man, eat all that thou shalt find:  eat
this book, and go speak to the children of Israel.
Eat this book, and go speak to the children of Israel. . .By this eating
of the book was signified the diligent attention and affection with
which we are to receive, and embrace the word of God; and to let it, as
it were, sink into our interior by devout meditation.
3:2. And I opened my mouth, and he caused me to eat that book:
3:3. And he said to me:  Son of man, thy belly shall eat, and thy bowels
shall be filled with this book, which I give thee, and I did eat it:
and it was sweet as honey in my mouth.
3:4. And he said to me:  Son of man, go to the house of Israel, and thou
shalt speak my words to them.
3:5. For thou art not sent to a people of a profound speech, and of an
unknown tongue, but to the house of Israel:
3:6. Nor to many nations of a strange speech, and of an unknown tongue,
whose words thou canst not understand:  and if thou wert sent to them,
they would hearken to thee.
3:7. But the house of Israel will not hearken to thee:  because they
will not hearken to me:  for all the house of Israel are of a hard
forehead and an obstinate heart.
3:8. Behold I have made thy face stronger than their faces:  and thy
forehead harder than their foreheads.
3:9. I have made thy face like an adamant and like flint:  fear them
not, neither be thou dismayed at their presence:  for they are a
provoking house.
3:10. And he said to me:  Son of man, receive in thy heart, and hear
with thy ears, all the words that I speak to thee:
3:11. And go get thee in to them of the captivity, to the children of
thy people, and thou shalt speak to them, and shalt say to them:  Thus
saith the Lord:  If so be they will hear, and will forbear.
3:12. And the spirit took me up, and I heard behind me the voice of a
great commotion, saying:  Blessed be the glory of the Lord, from his
3:13. The noise of the wings of the living creatures striking one
against another, and the noise of the wheels following the living
creatures, and the noise of a great commotion.
3:14. The spirit also lifted me, and took me up:  and I went away in
bitterness in the indignation of my spirit:  for the hand of the Lord
was with me, strengthening me.
3:15. And I came to them of the captivity, to the heap of new corn, to
them that dwelt by the river Chobar, and I sat where they sat:  and I
remained there seven days mourning in the midst of them.
The heap of new corn. . .It was the name of a place:  in Hebrew, tel
3:16. And at the end of seven days the word of the Lord came to me,
3:17. Son of man, I have made thee a watchman to the house of Israel:
and thou shalt hear the word out of my mouth, and shalt tell it them
3:18. If, when I say to the wicked, Thou shalt surely die:  thou declare
it not to him, nor speak to him, that he may be converted from his
wicked way, and live:  the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity,
but I will require his blood at thy hand.
3:19. But if thou give warning to the wicked, and he be not converted
from his wickedness, and from his evil way:  he indeed shall die in his
iniquity, but thou hast delivered thy soul.
3:20. Moreover if the just man shall turn away from his justice, and
shall commit iniquity:  I will lay a stumblingblock before him, he shall
die, because thou hast not given him warning:  he shall die in his sin,
and his justices which he hath done, shall not be remembered:  but I
will require his blood at thy hand.
3:21. But if thou warn the just man, that the just may not sin, and he
doth not sin:  living he shall live, because thou hast warned him, and
thou hast delivered thy soul.
3:22. And the hand of the Lord was upon me, and he said to me:  Rise and
go forth into the plain, and there I will speak to thee.
3:23. And I rose up, and went forth into the plain:  and behold the
glory of the Lord stood there, like the glory which I saw by the river
Chobar:  and I fell upon my face.
3:24. And the spirit entered into me, and set me upon my feet:  and he
spoke to me, and said to me:  Go in; and shut thyself up in the midst of
3:25. And thou, O son of man, behold they shall put bands upon thee,
and they shall bind thee with them:  and thou shalt not go forth from
the midst of them.
3:26. And I will make thy tongue stick fast to the roof of thy mouth,
and thou shalt be dumb, and not as a man that reproveth:  because they
are a provoking house.
3:27. But when I shall speak to thee, I will open thy mouth, and thou
shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  He that heareth, let him
hear:  and he that forbeareth, let him forbear:  for they are a provoking
Ezechiel Chapter 4
A prophetic description of the siege of Jerusalem, and the famine that
shall reign there.
4:1. And thou, O son of man, take thee a tile, and lay it before thee:
and draw upon it the plan of the city of Jerusalem.
4:2. And lay siege against it, and build forts, and cast up a mount,
and set a camp against it, and place battering rams round about it.
4:3. And take unto thee an iron pan, and set it for a wall of iron
between thee and the city:  and set thy face resolutely against it, and
it shall be besieged, and thou shalt lay siege against it:  it is a sign
to the house of Israel.
4:4. And thou shalt sleep upon thy left side, and shalt lay the
iniquities of the house of Israel upon it, according to the number of
the days that thou shalt sleep upon it, and thou shalt take upon thee
their iniquity.
4:5. And I have laid upon thee the years of their iniquity, according
to the number of the days three hundred and ninety days:  and thou shalt
bear the iniquity of the house of Israel.
4:6. And when thou hast accomplished this, thou shalt sleep again upon
thy right side, and thou shalt take upon thee the iniquity of the house
of Juda forty days:  a day for a year, yea, a day for a year I have
appointed to thee.
4:7. And thou shalt turn thy face to the siege of Jerusalem and thy arm
shall be stretched out:  and thou shalt prophesy against it.
4:8. Behold I have encompassed thee with bands:  and thou shalt not turn
thyself from one side to the other, till thou hast ended the days of
4:9. And take to thee wheat and barley, and beans, and lentils, and
millet, and fitches, and put them in one vessel, and make thee bread
thereof according to the number of the days that thou shalt lie upon
thy side:  three hundred and ninety days shalt thou eat thereof.
4:10. And thy meat that thou shalt eat, shall be in weight twenty
staters a day:  from time to time thou shalt eat it.
4:11. And thou shalt drink water by measure, the sixth part of a hin:
from time to time thou shalt drink it,
Hin. . .That is, a measure of liquids containing about ten pints.
4:12. And thou shalt eat it as barley bread baked under the ashes:  and
thou shalt cover it, in their sight, with the dung that cometh out of a
4:13. And the Lord said:  So shall the children of Israel eat their
bread all filthy among the nations whither I will cast them out.
4:14. And I said:  Ah, ah, ah, O Lord God, behold my soul hath not been
defiled, and from my infancy even till now, I have not eaten any thing
that died of itself, or was torn by beasts, and no unclean flesh hath
entered into my mouth.
4:15. And he said to me:  Behold I have given thee neat's dung for man's
dung, and thou shalt make thy bread therewith.
4:16. And he said to me:  Son of man:  Behold, I will break in pieces the
staff of bread in Jerusalem:  and they shall eat bread by weight, and
with care:  and they shall drink water by measure, and in distress.
4:17. So that when bread and water fail, every man may fall against his
brother, and they may pine away in their iniquities.
Ezechiel Chapter 5
The judgments of God upon the Jews are foreshewn under the type of the
prophet's hair.
5:1. And thou, son of man, take thee a sharp knife that shaveth the
hair:  and cause it to pass over thy head, and over thy beard:  and take
thee a balance to weigh in, and divide the hair.
5:2. A third part thou shalt burn with fire in the midst of the city,
according to the fulfilling of the days of the siege:  and thou shalt
take a third part, and cut it in pieces with the knife all round about:
and the other third part thou shalt scatter in the wind, and I will
draw out the sword after them.
5:3. And thou shalt take thereof a small number:  and shalt bind them in
the skirt of thy cloak.
5:4. And thou shalt take of them again, and shalt cast them in the
midst of the fire, and shalt burn them with fire:  and out of it shall
come forth a fire into all the house of Israel.
5:5. Thus saith the Lord God:  This is Jerusalem, I have set her in the
midst of the nations, and the countries round about her.
5:6. And she hath despised my judgments, so as to be more wicked than
the Gentiles; and my commandments, more than the countries that are
round about her:  for they have cast off my judgments, and have not
walked in my commandments.
5:7. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Because you have surpassed the
Gentiles that are round about you, and have not walked in my
commandments, and have not kept my judgments, and have not done
according to the judgments of the nations that are round about you:
5:8. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I come against thee, and
I myself will execute judgments in the midst of thee in the sight of
the Gentiles.
5:9. And I will do in thee that which I have not done:  and the like to
which I will do no more, because of all thy abominations.
5:10. Therefore the fathers shall eat the sons in the midst of thee,
and the sons shall eat their fathers:  and I will execute judgments in
thee, and I will scatter thy whole remnant into every wind.
5:11. Therefore as I live, saith the Lord God:  Because thou hast
violated my sanctuary with all thy offences, and with all thy
abominations:  I will also break thee in pieces, and my eye shall not
spare, and I will not have any pity.
5:12. A third part of thee shall die with the pestilence, and shall be
consumed with famine in the midst of thee:  and a third part of thee
shall fall by the sword round about thee:  and a third part of thee will
I scatter into every wind, and I will draw out a sword after them.
5:13. And I will accomplish my fury, and will cause my indignation to
rest upon them, and I will be comforted:  and they shall know that I the
Lord have spoken it in my zeal, when I shall have accomplished my
indignation in them.
5:14. And I will make thee desolate, and a reproach among the nations
that are round about thee, in the sight of every one that passeth by.
5:15. And thou shalt be a reproach, and a scoff, an example, and an
astonishment amongst the nations that are round about thee, when I
shall have executed judgments in thee in anger, and in indignation, and
in wrathful rebukes.
5:16. I the Lord have spoken it:  When I shall send upon them the
grievous arrows of famine, which shall bring death, and which I will
send to destroy you:  and I will gather together famine against you:  and
I will break among you the staff of bread.
5:17. And I will send in upon you famine, and evil beasts unto utter
destruction:  and pestilence, and blood shall pass through thee, and I
will bring in the sword upon thee.  I the Lord have spoken it.
Ezechiel Chapter 6
The punishment of Israel for their idolatry:  a remnant shall be saved.
6:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
6:2. Son of man set thy face towards the mountains of Israel, and
prophesy against them.
6:3. And say:  Ye mountains of Israel, hear the word of the Lord God:
Thus saith the Lord God to the mountains, and to the hills, and to the
rocks, and the valleys:  Behold, I will bring upon you the sword, and I
will destroy your high places.
6:4. And I will throw down your altars, and your idols shall be broken
in pieces:  and I will cast down your slain before your idols.
6:5. And I will lay the dead carcasses of the children of Israel before
your idols:  and I will scatter your bones round about your altars,
6:6. In all your dwelling places.  The cities shall be laid waste, and
the high places shall be thrown down, and destroyed, and your altars
shall be abolished, and shall be broken in pieces:  and your idols shall
be no more, and your temples shall be destroyed, and your works shall
6:7. And the slain shall fall in the midst of you:  and you shall know
that I am the Lord.
6:8. And I will leave in you some that shall escape the sword among the
nations, when I shall have scattered you through the countries.
6:9. And they that are saved of you shall remember me amongst the
nations, to which they are carried captives:  because I have broken
their heart that was faithless, and revolted from me:  and their eyes
that went a fornicating after their idols:  and they shall be displeased
with themselves because of the evils which they have committed in all
their abominations.
6:10. And they shall know that I the Lord have not spoken in vain that
I would do this evil to them.
6:11. Thus saith the Lord God:  Strike with thy hand and stamp with thy
foot, and say:  Alas, for all the abominations of the evils of the house
of Israel:  for they shall fall by the sword, by the famine, and by the
6:12. He that is far off shall die of the pestilence:  and he that is
near, shall fall by the sword:  and he that remaineth, and is besieged,
shall die by the famine:  and I will accomplish my indignation upon
6:13. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when your slain shall be
amongst your idols, round about your altars, in every high hill, and on
all the tops of mountains, and under every woody tree, and under every
thick oak, the place where they burnt sweet smelling frankincense to
all their idols.
6:14. And I will stretch forth my hand upon them:  and I will make the
land desolate, and abandoned from the desert of Deblatha in all their
dwelling places:  and they shall know that I am the Lord.
Ezechiel Chapter 7
The final desolation of Israel:  from which few shall escape.
7:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
7:2. And thou son of man, thus saith the Lord God to the land of
Israel:  The end is come, the end is come upon the four quarters of the
7:3. Now is an end come upon thee, and I will send my wrath upon thee,
and I will judge thee according to thy ways:  and I will set all thy
abominations against thee.
7:4. And my eye shall not spare thee, and I will shew thee no pity:  but
I will lay thy ways upon thee, and thy abominations shall be in the
midst of thee:  and you shall know that I am the Lord.
7:5. Thus saith the Lord God:  One affliction, behold an affliction is
7:6. An end is come, the end is come, it hath awaked against thee:
behold it is come.
7:7. Destruction is come upon thee that dwellest in the land:  the time
is come, the day of slaughter is near, and not of the joy of mountains.
7:8. Now very shortly I will pour out my wrath upon thee, and I will
accomplish my anger in thee:  and I will judge thee according to thy
ways, and I will lay upon thee all thy crimes.
7:9. And my eye shall not spare, neither will I shew mercy:  but I will
lay thy ways upon thee, and thy abominations shall be in the midst of
thee:  and you shall know that I am the Lord that strike.
7:10. Behold the day, behold it is come:  destruction is gone forth, the
rod hath blossomed, pride hath budded.
7:11. Iniquity is risen up into a rod of impiety:  nothing of them shall
remain, nor of their people, nor of the noise of them:  and there shall
be no rest among them.
7:12. The time is come, the day is at hand:  let not the buyer rejoice:
nor the seller mourn:  for wrath is upon all the people thereof.
7:13. For the seller shall not return to that which he hath sold,
although their life be yet among the living.  For the vision which
regardeth all the multitude thereof, shall not go back:  neither shall
man be strengthened in the iniquity of his life.
7:14. Blow the trumpet, let all be made ready, yet there is none to go
to the battle:  for my wrath shall be upon all the people thereof.
7:15. The sword without:  and the pestilence, and the famine within:  he
that is in the field shall die by the sword:  and they that are in the
city, shall be devoured by the pestilence, and the famine.
7:16. And such of them as shall flee shall escape:  and they shall be in
the mountains like doves of the valleys, all of them trembling, every
one for his iniquity.
7:17. All hands shall be made feeble, and all knees shall run with
7:18. And they shall gird themselves with haircloth, and fear shall
cover them and shame shall be upon every face, and baldness upon all
their heads.
7:19. Their silver shall be cast forth, and their gold shall become a
dunghill.  Their silver and their gold shall not be able to deliver them
in the day of the wrath of the Lord.  They shall not satisfy their soul,
and their bellies shall not be filled:  because it hath been the
stumblingblock of their iniquity.
7:20. And they have turned the ornament of their jewels into pride, and
have made of it the images of their abominations, and idols:  therefore
I have made it an uncleanness to them.
7:21. And I will give it into the hands of strangers for spoil, and to
the wicked of the earth for a prey, and they shall defile it.
7:22. And I will turn away my face from them, and they shall violate my
secret place:  and robbers shall enter into it, and defile it.
Secret place, etc. . .Viz., the inward sanctuary, the holy of holies.
7:23. Make a shutting up:  for the land is full of the judgment of
blood, and the city is full of iniquity.
Make a shutting up. . .In Hebrew, a chain, viz., for imprisonment and
7:24. And I will bring the worst of the nations, and they shall possess
their houses:  and I will make the pride of the mighty to cease, and
they shall possess their sanctuary.
7:25. When distress cometh upon them, they will seek for peace and
there shall be none.
7:26. Trouble shall come upon trouble, and rumour upon rumour, and they
shall seek a vision of the prophet, and the law shall perish from the
priest, and counsel from the ancients.
7:27. The king shall mourn, and the prince shall be clothed with
sorrow, and the hands of the people of the land shall be troubled.  I
will do to them according to their way, and will judge them according
to their judgments:  and they shall know that I am the Lord.
Ezechiel Chapter 8
The prophet sees in a vision the abominations committed in Jerusalem;
which determine the Lord to spare them no longer.
8:1. And it came to pass in the sixth year, in the sixth month, in the
fifth day of the month, as I sat in my house, and the ancients of Juda
sat before me, that the hand of the Lord God fell there upon me.
8:2. And I saw, and behold a likeness as the appearance of fire:  from
the appearance of his loins, and downward, fire:  and from his loins,
and upward, as the appearance of brightness, as the appearance of
8:3. And the likeness of a hand was put forth and took me by a lock of
my head:  and the spirit lifted me up between the earth and the heaven,
and brought me in the vision of God into Jerusalem, near the inner
gate, that looked toward the north, where was set the idol of jealousy
to provoke to jealousy.
8:4. And behold the glory of the God of Israel was there, according to
the vision which I had seen in the plain.
8:5. And he said to me:  Son of man, lift up thy eyes towards the way of
the north, and I lifted up my eyes towards the way of the north:  and
behold on the north side of the gate of the altar the idol of jealousy
in the very entry.
8:6. And he said to me:  Son of man, dost thou see, thinkest thou, what
these are doing, the great abominations that the house of Israel
committeth here, that I should depart far off from my sanctuary?  and
turn thee yet again and thou shalt see greater abominations.
8:7. And he brought me in to the door of the court:  and I saw, and
behold a hole in the wall.
8:8. And he said to me:  Son of man, dig in the wall, and when I had
digged in the wall, behold a door.
8:9. And he said to me:  Go in, and see the wicked abominations which
they commit here.
8:10. And I went in and saw, and behold every form of creeping things,
and of living creatures, the abominations, and all the idols of the
house of Israel, were painted on the wall all round about.
8:11. And seventy men of the ancients of the house of Israel, and
Jezonias the son of Saaphan stood in the midst of them, that stood
before the pictures:  and every one had a censer in his hand:  and a
cloud of smoke went up from the incense.
8:12. And he said to me:  Surely thou seest, O son of man, what the
ancients of the house of Israel do in the dark, every one in private in
his chamber:  for they say:  The Lord seeth us not, the Lord hath
forsaken the earth.
8:13. And he said to me:  If thou turn thee again, thou shalt see
greater abominations which these commit.
8:14. And he brought me in by the door of the gate of the Lord's house,
which looked to the north:  and behold women sat there mourning for
Adonis. . .The favourite of Venus, slain by a wild boar, as feigned by
the heathen poets, and which being here represented by an idol, is
lamented by the female worshippers of that goddess.  In the Hebrew, the
name is Tammuz.
8:15. And he said to me:  Surely thou hast seen, O son of man:  but turn
thee again, thou shalt see greater abominations than these.
8:16. And he brought me into the inner court of the house of the Lord:
and behold at the door of the temple of the Lord, between the porch and
the altar, were about five and twenty men having their backs towards
the temple of the Lord, in their faces to the east:  and they adored
towards the rising of the sun.
8:17. And he said to me:  Surely thou hast seen, O son of man:  is this a
light thing to the house of Juda, that they should commit these
abominations which they have committed here:  because they have filled
the land with iniquity, and have turned to provoke me to anger?  and
behold they put a branch to their nose.
8:18. Therefore I also will deal with them in my wrath:  my eye shall
not spare them, neither will I shew mercy:  and when they shall cry to
my ears with a loud voice, I will not hear them.
Ezechiel Chapter 9
All are ordered to be destroyed that are not marked in their foreheads.
God will not be entreated for them.
9:1. And he cried in my ears with a loud voice, saying:  The visitations
of the city are at hand, and every one hath a destroying weapon in his
9:2. And behold six men came from the way of the upper gate, which
looketh to the north:  and each one had his weapon of destruction in his
hand:  and there was one man in the midst of them clothed with linen,
with a writer's inkhorn at his reins:  and they went in, and stood by
the brazen altar.
9:3. And the glory of the Lord of Israel went up from the cherub, upon
which he was, to the threshold of the house:  and he called to the man
that was clothed with linen, and had a writer's inkhorn at his loins.
9:4. And the Lord said to him:  Go through the midst of the city,
through the midst of Jerusalem:  and mark Thau upon the foreheads of the
men that sigh, and mourn for all the abominations that are committed in
the midst thereof.
Mark Thau. . .Thau, or Tau, is the last letter in the Hebrew alphabet,
and signifies a sign, or a mark; which is the reason why some
translators render this place set a mark, or mark a mark without
specifying what this mark was.  But St. Jerome, and other interpreters,
conclude it was the form of the letter Thau, which in the ancient
Hebrew character, was the form of a cross.
9:5. And to the others he said in my hearing:  Go ye after him through
the city, and strike:  let not your eyes spare, nor be ye moved with
9:6. Utterly destroy old and young, maidens, children and women:  but
upon whomsoever you shall see Thau, kill him not, and begin ye at my
sanctuary.  So they began at the ancient men who were before the house.
9:7. And he said to them:  Defile the house, and fill the courts with
the slain:  go ye forth.  And they went forth, and slew them that were in
9:8. And the slaughter being ended I was left; and I fell upon my face,
and crying, I said:  Alas, alas, alas, O Lord God, wilt thou then
destroy all the remnant of Israel, by pouring out thy fury upon
9:9. And he said to me:  The iniquity of the house of Israel, and of
Juda, is exceeding great, and the land is filled with blood, and the
city is filled with perverseness:  for they have said:  The Lord hath
forsaken the earth, and the Lord seeth not.
9:10. Therefore neither shall my eye spare, nor will I have pity:  I
will requite their way upon their head.
9:11. And behold the man that was clothed with linen, that had the
inkhorn at his back, returned the word, saying:  I have done as thou
hast commanded me.
Ezechiel Chapter 10
Fire is taken from the midst of the wheels under the cherubims, and
scattered over the city.  A description of the cherubims.
10:1. And I saw and behold in the firmament that was over the heads of
the cherubims, there appeared over them as it were the sapphire stone,
as the appearance of the likeness of a throne.
10:2. And he spoke to the man, that was clothed with linen, and said:
Go in between the wheels that are under the cherubims and fill thy hand
with the coals of fire that are between the cherubims, and pour them
out upon the city.  And he went in, in my sight:
10:3. And the cherubims stood on the right side of the house, when the
man went in, and a cloud filled the inner court.
10:4. And the glory of the Lord was lifted up from above the cherub to
the threshold of the house:  and the house was filled with the cloud,
and the court was filled with the brightness of the glory of the Lord.
10:5. And the sound of the wings of the cherubims was heard even to the
outward court as the voice of God Almighty speaking.
10:6. And when he had commanded the man that was clothed with linen,
saying:  Take fire from the midst of the wheels that are between the
cherubims:  he went in and stood beside the wheel.
10:7. And one cherub stretched out his arm from the midst of the
cherubims to the fire that was between the cherubims:  and he took, and
put it into the hands of him that was clothed with linen:  who took it
and went forth.
10:8. And there appeared in the cherubims the likeness of a man's hand
under their wings.
10:9. And I saw, and behold there were four wheels by the cherubims:
one wheel by one cherub, and another wheel by another cherub:  and the
appearance of the wheels was to the sight like the chrysolite stone:
10:10. And as to their appearance, all four were alike:  as if a wheel
were in the midst of a wheel.
10:11. And when they went, they went by four ways:  and they turned not
when they went:  but to the place whither they first turned, the rest
also followed, and did not turn back.
By four ways. . .That is, by any of the four ways, forward, backward, to
the right or to the left.
10:12. And their whole body, and their necks, and their hands, and
their wings, and the circles were full of eyes, round about the four
10:13. And these wheels he called voluble, in my hearing.
Voluble. . .That is, rolling wheels, galgal.
10:14. And every one had four faces:  one face was the face of a cherub,
and the second face, the face of a man:  and in the third was the face
of a lion:  and in the fourth the face of an eagle.
10:15. And the cherubims were lifted up:  this is the living creature
that I had seen by the river Chobar.
10:16. And when the cherubims went, the wheels also went by them:  and
when the cherubims lifted up their wings, to mount up from the earth,
the wheels stayed not behind, but were by them.
10:17. When they stood, these stood:  and when they were lifted up,
these were lifted up:  for the spirit of life was in them.
10:18. And the glory of the Lord went forth from the threshold of the
temple:  and stood over the cherubims.
10:19. And the cherubims lifting up their wings, were raised from the
earth before me:  and as they went out, the wheels also followed:  and it
stood in the entry of the east gate of the house of the Lord:  and the
glory of the God of Israel was over them.
10:20. This is the living creature, which I saw under the God of Israel
by the river Chobar:  and I understood that they were cherubims.
10:21. Each one had four faces, and each one had four wings:  and the
likeness of a man's hand was under their wings.
10:22. And as to the likeness of their faces, they were the same faces
which I had seen by the river Chobar, and their looks, and the impulse
of every one to go straight forward.
Ezechiel Chapter 11
A prophecy against the presumptuous assurance of the great ones.  A
remnant shall be saved, and receive a new spirit, and a new heart.
11:1. And the spirit lifted me up, and brought me into the east gate of
the house of the Lord, which looketh towards the rising of the sun:  and
behold in the entry of the gate five and twenty men:  and I saw in the
midst of them Jezonias the son of Azur, and Pheltias the son of
Banaias, princes of the people.
11:2. And he said to me:  Son of man, these are the men that study
iniquity, and frame a wicked counsel in this city,
11:3. Saying:  Were not houses lately built?  This city is the caldron,
and we the flesh.
Were not houses lately built, etc. . .These men despised the predictions
and threats of the prophets; who declared to them from God, that the
city should be destroyed, and the inhabitants carried into captivity:
and they made use of this kind of argument against the prophets, that
the city, so far from being like to be destroyed, had lately been
augmented by the building of new houses; from whence they further
inferred, by way of a proverb, using the similitude of a cauldron, out
of which the flesh is not taken, till it is thoroughly boiled, and fit
to be eaten, that they should not be carried away out of their city,
but there end their days in peace.
11:4. Therefore prophesy against them, prophesy, thou son of man.
11:5. And the spirit of the Lord fell upon me, and said to me:  Speak:
Thus saith the Lord:  Thus have you spoken, O house of Israel, for I
know the thoughts of your heart.
11:6. You have killed a great many in this city, and you have filled
the streets thereof with the slain.
11:7. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Your slain, whom you have laid
in the midst thereof, they are the flesh, all this is the caldron:  and
I will bring you forth out of the midst thereof.
11:8. You have feared the sword, and I will bring the sword upon you,
saith the Lord God.
11:9. And I will cast you out of the midst thereof, and I will deliver
you into the hand of the enemies, and I will execute judgments upon
11:10. You shall fall by the sword:  I will judge you in the borders of
Israel, and you shall know that I am the Lord.
In the borders of Israel. . .They pretended that they should die in
peace in Jerusalem; God tells them it should not be so; but that they
should be judged and condemned, and fall by the sword in the borders of
Israel:  viz., in Reblatha in the land of Emath, where all their chief
men were put to death by Nabuchodonosor.  4 Kings 25., and Jer. 52.10,
11:11. This shall not be as a caldron to you, and you shall not be as
flesh in the midst thereof:  I will judge you in the borders of Israel.
11:12. And you shall know that I am the Lord:  because you have not
walked in my commandments, and have not done my judgments, but you have
done according to the judgments of the nations that are round about
11:13. And it came to pass, when I prophesied, that Pheltias the son of
Banaias died:  and I fell down upon my face, and I cried with a loud
voice:  and said:  Alas, alas, alas, O Lord God:  wilt thou make an end
of all the remnant of Israel?
11:14. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
11:15. Son of man, thy brethren, thy brethren, thy kinsmen, and all the
house of Israel, all they to whom the inhabitants of Jerusalem have
said:  Get ye far from the Lord, the land is given in possession to us.
Thy brethren, etc. . .He speaks of them that had been carried away
captives before; who were despised by them that remained in Jerusalem:
but as the prophet here declares to them from God, should be in a more
happy condition than they, and after some time return from their
11:16. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Because I have removed them
far off among the Gentiles, and because I have scattered them among the
countries:  I will be to them a little sanctuary in the countries
whither they are come.
11:17. Therefore speak to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  I will gather
you from among the peoples, and assemble you out of the countries
wherein you are scattered, and I will give you the land of Israel.
11:18. And they shall go in thither, and shall take away all the
scandals, and all the abominations thereof from thence.
11:19. And I will give them one heart, and will put a new spirit in
their bowels:  and I will take away the stony heart out of their flesh,
and will give them a heart of flesh:
11:20. That they may walk in my commandments, and keep my judgments,
and do them:  and that they may be my people, and I may be their God.
11:21. But as for them whose heart walketh after their scandals and
abominations, I will lay their way upon their head, saith the Lord God.
11:22. And the cherubims lifted up their wings, and the wheels with
them:  and the glory of the God of Israel was over them.
11:23. And the glory of the Lord went up from the midst of the city,
and stood over the mount that is on the east side of the city.
11:24. And the spirit lifted me up, and brought me into Chaldea, to
them of the captivity, in vision, by the spirit of God:  and the vision
which I had seen was taken up from me.
11:25. And I spoke to them of the captivity all the words of the Lord,
which he had shewn me.
Ezechiel Chapter 12
The prophet forsheweth, by signs, the captivity of Sedecias, and the
desolation of the people:  all which shall quickly come to pass.
12:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
12:2. Son of man, thou dwellest in the midst of a provoking house:  who
have eyes to see, and see not:  and ears to hear, and hear not:  for they
are a provoking house.
12:3. Thou, therefore, O son of man, prepare thee all necessaries for
removing, and remove by day into their sight:  and thou shalt remove out
of thy place to another place in their sight, if so be they will regard
it:  for they are a provoking house.
12:4. And thou shalt bring forth thy furniture as the furniture of one
that is removing by day in their sight:  and thou shalt go forth in the
evening in their presence, as one goeth forth that removeth his
12:5. Dig thee a way through the wall before their eyes:  and thou shalt
go forth through it.
12:6. In their sight thou shalt be carried out upon men's shoulders,
thou shalt be carried out in the dark:  thou shalt cover thy face, and
shalt not see the ground:  for I have set thee for a sign of things to
come to the house of Israel.
12:7. I did therefore as he had commanded me:  I brought forth my goods
by day, as the goods of one that removeth:  and in the evening I digged
through the wall with my hand, and I went forth in the dark, and was
carried on men's shoulders in their sight.
12:8. And the word of the Lord came to me in the morning, saying:
12:9. Son of man, hath not the house of Israel, the provoking house,
said to thee:  What art thou doing?
12:10. Say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  This burden concerneth my
prince that is in Jerusalem, and all the house of Israel, that are
12:11. Say:  I am a sign of things to come to you:  as I have done, so
shall it be done to them:  they shall be removed from their dwellings,
and go into captivity.
12:12. And the prince that is in the midst of them, shall be carried on
shoulders, he shall go forth in the dark:  they shall dig through the
wall to bring him out:  his face shall be covered, that he may not see
the ground with his eyes.
12:13. And I will spread my net over him, and he shall be taken in my
net:  and I will bring him into Babylon, into the land of the Chaldeans,
and he shall not see it, and there he shall die.
He shall not see it. . .Because his eyes shall be put out by
Nabuchodonosor.
12:14. And all that are about him, his guards, and his troops I will
scatter into every wind:  and I will draw out the sword after them.
12:15. And they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall have
dispersed them among the nations, and scattered them in the countries.
12:16. And I will leave a few men of them from the sword, and from the
famine, and from the pestilence:  that they may declare all their wicked
deeds among the nations whither they shall go:  and they shall know that
I am the Lord.
12:17. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
12:18. Son of man, eat thy bread in trouble and drink thy water in
hurry and sorrow.
12:19. And say to the people of the land:  Thus saith the Lord God to
them that dwell in Jerusalem in the land of Israel:  They shall eat
their bread in care, and drink their water in desolation:  that the land
may become desolate from the multitude that is therein, for the
iniquity of all that dwell therein.
12:20. And the cities that are now inhabited shall be laid waste, and
the land shall be desolate:  and you shall know that I am the Lord.
12:21. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
12:22. Son of man, what is this proverb that you have in the land of
Israel?  saying:  The days shall be prolonged, and every vision shall
12:23. Say to them therefore:  Thus saith the Lord God:  I will make this
proverb to cease, neither shall it be any more a common saying in
Israel:  and tell them that the days are at hand, and the effect of
every vision.
12:24. For there shall be no more any vain visions, nor doubtful
divination in the midst of the children of Israel.
12:25. For I the Lord will speak:  and what word soever I shall speak,
it shall come to pass, and shall not be prolonged any more:  but in your
days, ye provoking house, I will speak the word, and will do it, saith
the Lord God.
12:26. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
12:27. Son of man, behold the house of Israel, they that say:  The
visions that this man seeth, is for many days to come:  and this man
prophesieth of times afar off.
12:28. Therefore say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  not one word of
mine shall be prolonged any more:  the word that I shall speak shall be
accomplished, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 13
God declares against false prophets and prophetesses, that deceive the
people with lies.
13:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
13:2. Son of man, prophesy thou against the prophets of Israel that
prophesy:  and thou shalt say to them that prophesy out of their own
heart:  Hear ye the word of the Lord:
13:3. Thus saith the Lord God:  Woe to the foolish prophets that follow
their own spirit, and see nothing.
13:4. Thy prophets, O Israel, were like foxes in the deserts.
13:5. You have not gone up to face the enemy, nor have you set up a
wall for the house of Israel, to stand in battle in the day of the
13:6. They see vain things, and they foretell lies, saying:  The Lord
saith:  whereas the Lord hath not sent them:  and they have persisted to
confirm what they have said.
13:7. Have you not seen a vain vision and spoken a lying divination:
and you say:  The Lord saith:  whereas I have not spoken.
13:8. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Because you have spoken vain
things, and have seen lies:  therefore behold I come against you, saith
the Lord God.
13:9. And my hand shall be upon the prophets that see vain things, and
that divine lies:  they shall not be in the council of my people, nor
shall they be written in the writing of the house of Israel, neither
shall they enter into the land of Israel, and you shall know that I am
the Lord God.
13:10. Because they have deceived my people, saying:  Peace, and there
is no peace:  and the people built up a wall, and they daubed it with
dirt without straw.
13:11. Say to them that daub without tempering, that it shall fall:  for
there shall be an overflowing shower, and I will cause great hailstones
to fall violently from above, and a stormy wind to throw it down.
13:12. Behold, when the wall is fallen:  shall it not be said to you:
Where is the daubing wherewith you have daubed it?
13:13. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Lo, I will cause a stormy
wind to break forth in my indignation, and there shall be an
overflowing shower in my anger:  and great hailstones in my wrath to
13:14. And I will break down the wall that you have daubed with
untempered mortar:  and I will make it even with the ground, and the
foundation thereof shall be laid bare:  and it shall fall, and shall be
consumed in the midst thereof:  and you shall know that I am the Lord.
13:15. And I will accomplish my wrath upon the wall, and upon them that
daub it without tempering the mortar, and I will say to you:  The wall
is no more, and they that daub it are no more.
13:16. Even the prophets of Israel that prophesy to Jerusalem, and that
see visions of peace for her:  and there is no peace, saith the Lord
13:17. And thou, son of man, set thy face against the daughters of thy
people that prophesy out of their own heart:  and do thou prophesy
against them,
13:18. And say:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Woe to them that sew cushions
under every elbow:  and make pillows for the heads of persons of every
age to catch souls:  and when they caught the souls of my people, they
gave life to their souls.
Sew cushions, etc. . .Viz., by making people easy in their sins, and
promising them impunity.--Ibid.  They gave life to their souls. . .That
is, they flattered them with promises of life, peace, and security.
13:19. And they violated me among my people, for a handful of barley,
and a piece of bread, to kill souls which should not die, and to save
souls alive which should not live, telling lies to my people that
believe lies.
Violated me. . .That is, dishonoured and discredited me.  Ibid.  To kill
souls, etc. . .That is, to sentence souls to death, which are not to
die; and to promise life to them who are not to live.
13:20. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I declare against your
cushions, wherewith you catch flying souls:  and I will tear them off
from your arms:  and I will let go the soul that you catch, the souls
that should fly.
13:21. And I will tear your pillows, and will deliver my people out of
your hand, neither shall they be any more in your hands to be a prey:
and you shall know that I am the Lord.
13:22. Because with lies you have made the heart of the just to mourn,
whom I have not made sorrowful:  and have strengthened the hands of the
wicked, that he should not return from his evil way, and live.
13:23. Therefore you shall not see vain things, nor divine divinations
any more, and I will deliver my people out of your hand:  and you shall
know that I am the Lord.
Ezechiel Chapter 14
God suffers the wicked to be deceived in punishment of their
wickedness.  The evils that shall come upon them for their sins:  for
which they shall not be delivered by the prayers of Noe, Daniel, and
Job.  But a remnant shall be preserved.
14:1. And some of the ancients of Israel came to me, and sat before me.
14:2. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
14:3. Son of man, these men have placed their uncleannesses in their
hearts, and have set up before their face the stumblingblock of their
iniquity:  and shall I answer when they inquire of me?
Uncleanness. . .That is, their filthy idols, upon which they have set
their hearts:  and which are a stumblingblock to their souls.
14:4. Therefore speak to them, and say to them:  Thus saith the Lord
God:  Man, man of the house of Israel that shall place his uncleannesses
in his heart, and set up the stumblingblock of his iniquity before his
face, and shall come to the prophet inquiring of me by him:  I the Lord
will answer him according to the multitude of his uncleannesses:
Man, man. . .That is, every man, an Hebrew expression.
14:5. That the house of Israel may be caught in their own heart, with
which they have departed from me through all their idols.
14:6. Therefore say to the house of Israel:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Be
converted, and depart from your idols, and turn away your faces from
all your abominations.
14:7. For every man of the house of Israel, and every stranger among
the proselytes in Israel, if he separate himself from me, and place his
idols in his heart, and set the stumblingblock of his iniquity before
his face, and come to the prophet to inquire of me by him:  I the Lord
will answer him by myself.
14:8. And I will set my face against that man, and will make him an
example, and a proverb, and will cut him off from the midst of my
people:  and you shall know that I am the Lord.
14:9. And when the prophet shall err, and speak a word:  I the Lord have
deceived that prophet:  and I will stretch forth my hand upon him, and
will cut him off from the midst of my people Israel.
The prophet shall err, etc. . .He speaks of false prophets, answering
out of their own heads and according to their own corrupt
inclinations.--Ibid.  I have deceived that prophet. . .God Almighty
deceives false prophets, partly by withdrawing his light from them; and
abandoning them to their own corrupt inclinations, which push them on
to prophesy such things as are agreeable to those who consult them:  and
partly by disappointing them, and causing all thing to happen contrary
to what they have said.
14:10. And they shall bear their iniquity:  according to the iniquity of
him that inquireth, so shall the iniquity of the prophet be.
14:11. That the house of Israel may go no more astray from me, nor be
polluted with all their transgressions:  but may be my people, and I may
be their God, saith the Lord of hosts.
14:12. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
14:13. Son of man, when a land shall sin against me, so as to
transgress grievously, I will stretch forth my hand upon it, and will
break the staff of the bread thereof:  and I will send famine upon it,
and will destroy man and beast out of it.
14:14. And if these three men, Noe, Daniel, and Job, shall be in it:
they shall deliver their own souls by their justice, saith the Lord of
14:15. And if I shall bring mischievous beasts also upon the land to
waste it, and it be desolate, so that there is none that can pass
because of the beasts:
14:16. If these three men shall be in it, as I live, saith the Lord,
they shall deliver neither sons nor daughters:  but they only shall be
delivered, and the land shall be made desolate.
14:17. Or if I bring the sword upon that land, and say to the sword:
Pass through the land:  and I destroy man and beast out of it:
14:18. And these three men be in the midst thereof:  as I live, saith
the Lord God, they shall deliver neither sons nor daughters, but they
themselves alone shall be delivered.
14:19. Or if I also send the pestilence upon that land, and pour out my
indignation upon it in blood, to cut off from it man and beast:
14:20. And Noe, and Daniel, and Job be in the midst thereof:  as I live,
saith the Lord God, they shall deliver neither son nor daughter:  but
they shall only deliver their own souls by their justice.
14:21. For thus saith the Lord:  Although I shall send in upon Jerusalem
my four grievous judgments, the sword, and the famine, and the
mischievous beasts, and the pestilence, to destroy out of it man and
14:22. Yet there shall be left in it some that shall be saved, who
shall bring away their sons and daughters:  behold they shall come among
you, and you shall see their way, and their doings:  and you shall be
comforted concerning the evil that I have brought upon Jerusalem, in
all things that I have brought upon it.
14:23. And they shall comfort you, when you shall see their ways, and
their doings:  and you shall know that I have not done without cause all
that I have done in it, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 15
As a vine cut down is fit for nothing but the fire; so it shall be with
Jerusalem, for her sins.
15:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
15:2. Son of man, what shall be made of the wood of the vine, out of
all the trees of the woods that are among the trees of the forests?
15:3. Shall wood be taken of it, to do any work, or shall a pin be made
of it for any vessel to hang thereon?
15:4. Behold it is cast into the fire for fuel:  the fire hath consumed
both ends thereof, and the midst thereof is reduced to ashes:  shall it
be useful for any work?
15:5. Even when it was whole it was not fit for work:  how much less,
when the fire hath devoured and consumed it, shall any work be made of
15:6. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  As the vine tree among the
trees of the forests which I have given to the fire to be consumed, so
will I deliver up the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
15:7. And I will set my face against them:  they shall go out from fire,
and fire shall consume them:  and you shall know that I am the Lord,
when I shall have set my face against them.
15:8. And I shall have made their land a wilderness, and desolate,
because they have been transgressors, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 16
Under the figure of an unfaithful wife, God upbraids Jerusalem with her
ingratitude and manifold disloyalties:  but promiseth mercy by a new
16:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
16:2. Son of man, make known to Jerusalem her abominations.
Make known to Jerusalem. . .That is, by letters, for the prophet was
then in Babylon.
16:3. And thou shalt say:  Thus saith the Lord God to Jerusalem:  Thy
root, and thy nativity is of the land of Chanaan, thy father was an
Amorrhite, and thy mother a Cethite.
16:4. And when thou wast born, in the day of thy nativity thy navel was
not cut, neither wast thou washed with water for thy health, nor salted
with salt, nor swaddled with clouts.
16:5. No eye had pity on thee to do any of these things for thee, out
of compassion to thee:  but thou wast cast out upon the face of the
earth in the abjection of thy soul, in the day that thou wast born.
16:6. And passing by thee, I saw that thou wast trodden under foot in
thy own blood:  and I said to thee when thou wast in thy blood:  Live:  I
have said to thee:  Live in thy blood.
16:7. I caused thee to multiply as the bud of the field:  and thou didst
increase and grow great, and advancedst, and camest to woman's
ornament:  thy breasts were fashioned, and thy hair grew:  and thou was
naked, and full of confusion.
16:8. And I passed by thee, and saw thee:  and behold thy time was the
time of lovers:  and I spread my garment over thee, and covered thy
ignominy.  and I swore to thee, and I entered into a covenant with thee,
saith the Lord God:  and thou becamest mine.
16:9. And I washed thee with water, and cleansed away thy blood from
thee:  and I anointed thee with oil.
16:10. And I clothed thee with embroidery, and shod thee with violet
coloured shoes:  and I girded thee about with fine linen, and clothed
thee with fine garments.
16:11. I decked thee also with ornaments, and put bracelets on thy
hands, and a chain about thy neck.
I decked thee also with ornaments, etc. . .That is, with spiritual
benefits, giving you a law with sacrifices, sacraments, and other holy
16:12. And I put a jewel upon thy forehead and earrings in thy ears,
and a beautiful crown upon thy head.
16:13. And thou wast adorned with gold, and silver, and wast clothed
with fine linen, and embroidered work, and many colours:  thou didst eat
fine flour, and honey, and oil, and wast made exceeding beautiful:  and
wast advanced to be a queen.
16:14. And thy renown went forth among the nations for thy beauty:  for
thou wast perfect through my beauty, which I had put upon thee, saith
the Lord God.
16:15. But trusting in thy beauty, thou playedst the harlot because of
thy renown, and thou hast prostituted thyself to every passenger, to be
16:16. And taking of thy garments thou hast made thee high places sewed
together on each side:  and hast played the harlot upon them, as hath
not been done before, nor shall be hereafter.
16:17. And thou tookest thy beautiful vessels, of my gold, and my
silver, which I gave thee, and thou madest thee images of men, and hast
committed fornication with them.
16:18. And thou tookest thy garments of divers colours, and coveredst
them:  and settest my oil and my sweet incense before them.
16:19. And my bread which I gave thee, the fine flour, and oil, and
honey, wherewith I fed thee, thou hast set before them for a sweet
odour; and it was done, saith the Lord God.
16:20. And thou hast taken thy sons, and thy daughters, whom thou hast
borne to me:  and hast sacrificed the same to them to be devoured.  Is
thy fornication small?
16:21. Thou hast sacrificed and given my children to them, consecrating
them by fire.
Thou hast sacrificed, etc. . .As there is nothing more base and
abominable than the crimes mentioned throughout this chapter; so the
infidelities of the Israelites in forsaking God, and sacrificing even
their children to idols, are strongly figured by these allegories.
16:22. And after all thy abominations, and fornications, thou hast not
remembered the days of thy youth, when thou wast naked, and full of
confusion, trodden under foot in thy own blood.
16:23. And it came to pass after all thy wickedness (woe, woe to thee,
saith the Lord God)
16:24. That thou didst also build thee a common stew, and madest thee a
brothel house in every street.
16:25. At every head of the way thou hast set up a sign of thy
prostitution:  and hast made thy beauty to be abominable:  and hast
prostituted thyself to every one that passed by, and hast multiplied
thy fornications.
16:26. And thou hast committed fornication with the Egyptians thy
neighbours, men of large bodies, and hast multiplied thy fornications
to provoke me.
16:27. Behold, I will stretch out my hand upon thee, and will take away
thy justification:  and I will deliver thee up to the will of the
daughters of the Philistines that hate thee, that are ashamed of thy
16:28. Thou hast also committed fornication with the Assyrians, because
thou wast not yet satisfied:  and after thou hadst played the harlot
with them, even so thou wast not contented.
16:29. Thou hast also multiplied thy fornications in the land of
Chanaan with the Chaldeans:  and neither so wast thou satisfied.
16:30. Wherein shall I cleanse thy heart, saith Lord God:  seeing thou
dost all these the works of a shameless prostitute?
16:31. Because thou hast built thy brothel house at the head of every
way, and thou hast made thy high place in every street:  and wast not as
a harlot that by disdain enhanceth her price,
16:32. But is an adulteress, that bringeth in strangers over her
16:33. Gifts are given to all harlots:  but thou hast given hire to all
thy lovers, and thou hast given them gifts to come to thee from every
side, to commit fornication with thee.
16:34. And it hath happened in thee contrary to the custom of women in
thy fornications, and after thee there shall be no such fornication,
for in that thou gavest rewards, and didst not take rewards, the
contrary hath been done in thee.
16:35. Therefore, O harlot, hear the word of the Lord.
16:36. Thus saith the Lord God:  Because thy money hath been poured out,
and thy shame discovered through thy fornications with thy lovers, and
with the idols of thy abominations, by the blood of thy children whom
thou gavest them:
16:37. Behold, I will gather together all thy lovers with whom thou
hast taken pleasure, and all whom thou hast loved, with all whom thou
hast hated:  and I will gather them together against thee on every side,
and will discover thy shame in their sight, and they shall see all thy
16:38. And I will judge thee as adulteresses, and they that shed blood
are judged:  and I will give thee blood in fury and jealousy.
16:39. And I will deliver thee into their hands, and they shall destroy
thy brothel house, and throw down thy stews:  and they shall strip thee
of thy garments, and shall take away the vessels of thy beauty:  and
leave thee naked, and full of disgrace.
16:40. And they shall bring upon thee a multitude, and they shall stone
thee with stones, and shall slay thee with their swords.
16:41. And they shall burn thy houses with fire, and shall execute
judgments upon thee in the sight of many women:  and thou shalt cease
from fornication, and shalt give no hire any more.
16:42. And my indignation shall rest in thee:  and my jealousy shall
depart from thee, and I will cease and be angry no more.
16:43. Because thou hast not remembered the days of thy youth, but hast
provoked me in all these things:  wherefore I also have turned all thy
ways upon thy head, saith the Lord God, and I have not done according
to thy wicked deeds in all thy abominations.
16:44. Behold every one that useth a common proverb, shall use this
against thee, saying:  As the mother was, so also is her daughter.
16:45. Thou art thy mother's daughter, that cast off her husband, and
her children:  and thou art the sister of thy sisters, who cast off
their husbands, and their children:  your mother was a Cethite, and your
father an Amorrhite.
16:46. And thy elder sister is Samaria, she and her daughters that
dwell at thy left hand:  and thy younger sister that dwelleth at thy
right hand is Sodom, and her daughters.
16:47. But neither hast thou walked in their ways, nor hast thou done a
little less than they according to their wickednesses:  thou hast done
almost more wicked things than they in all thy ways.
16:48. As I live, saith the Lord God, thy sister Sodom herself, and her
daughters, have not done as thou hast done, and thy daughters.
16:49. Behold this was the iniquity of Sodom thy sister, pride, fulness
of bread, and abundance, and the idleness of her, and of her daughters:
and they did not put forth their hand to the needy, and the poor.
This was the iniquity of Sodom, etc. . .That is, these were the steps by
which the Sodomites came to fall into those abominations for which they
were destroyed.  For pride, gluttony, and idleness are the highroad to
all kinds of lust; especially when they are accompanied with a neglect
of the works of mercy.
16:50. And they were lifted up, and committed abominations before me:
and I took them away as thou hast seen.
16:51. And Samaria committed not half thy sins:  but thou hast surpassed
them with thy crimes, and hast justified thy sisters by all thy
abominations which thou hast done.
16:52. Therefore do thou also bear thy confusion, thou that hast
surpassed thy sisters with thy sins, doing more wickedly than they:  for
they are justified above thee, therefore be thou also confounded, and
bear thy shame, thou that hast justified thy sisters.
16:53. And I will bring back and restore them by bringing back Sodom,
with her daughters, and by bringing back Samaria, and her daughters:
and I will bring those that return of thee in the midst of them.
I will bring back, etc. . .This relates to the conversion of the
Gentiles out of all nations, and of many of the Jews, to the church of
16:54. That thou mayest bear thy shame, and mayest be confounded in all
that thou hast done, comforting them.
16:55. And thy sister Sodom and her daughters shall return to their
ancient state:  and Samaria and her daughters shall return to their
ancient state:  and thou and thy daughters shall return to your ancient
Ancient state. . .That is, to their former state of liberty, and their
ancient possessions.  In the spiritual sense, to the true liberty, and
the happy inheritance of the children of God, through faith in Christ.
16:56. And Sodom thy sister was not heard of in thy mouth, in the day
of thy pride,
16:57. Before thy malice was laid open:  as it is at this time, making
thee a reproach of the daughters of Syria, and of all the daughters of
Palestine round about thee, that encompass thee on all sides.
16:58. Thou hast borne thy wickedness, and thy disgrace, saith the Lord
16:59. For thus saith the Lord God:  I will deal with thee, as thou hast
despised the oath, in breaking the covenant:
16:60. And I will remember my covenant with thee in the days of thy
youth:  and I will establish with thee an everlasting covenant.
16:61. And thou shalt remember thy ways, and be ashamed:  when thou
shalt receive thy sisters, thy elder and thy younger:  and I will give
them to thee for daughters, but not by thy covenant.
16:62. And I will establish my covenant with thee:  and thou shalt know
that I am the Lord,
16:63. That thou mayest remember, and be confounded, and mayest no more
open thy mouth because of thy confusion, when I shall be pacified
toward thee for all that thou hast done, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 17
The parable of the two eagles and the vine.  A promise of the cedar of
Christ and his church.
17:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
17:2. Son of man, put forth a riddle, and speak a parable to the house
17:3. And say:  Thus saith the Lord God; A large eagle with great wings,
long-limbed, full of feathers, and of variety, came to Libanus, and
took away the marrow of the cedar.
A large eagle. . .Nabuchodonosor, king of Babylon.--Ibid.  Came to
Libanus. . .That is, to Jerusalem.--Ibid.  Took away the marrow of the
cedar. . .King Jechonias.
17:4. He cropped off the top of the twigs thereof:  and carried it away
into the land of Chanaan, and he set it in a city of merchants.
Chanaan. . .This name, which signifies traffic, is not taken here for
Palestine, but for Chaldea:  and the city of merchants here mentioned is
17:5. And he took of the seed of the land, and put it in the ground for
seed, that it might take a firm root over many waters:  he planted it on
the surface of the earth.
Of the seed of the land, etc. . .Viz., Sedecias, whom he made king.
17:6. And it sprung up and grew into a spreading vine of low stature,
and the branches thereof looked towards him:  and the roots thereof were
under him.  So it became a vine, and grew into branches, and shot forth
Towards him. . .Nabuchodonosor, to whom Sedecias swore allegiance.
17:7. And there was another large eagle, with great wings, and many
feathers:  and behold this vine, bending as it were her roots towards
him, stretched forth her branches to him, that he might water it by the
furrows of her plantation.
Another large eagle. . .Viz., the king of Egypt.
17:8. It was planted in a good ground upon many waters, that it might
bring forth branches, and bear fruit, that it might become a large
17:9. Say thou:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Shall it prosper then?  shall
he not pull up the roots thereof, and strip off its fruit, and dry up
all the branches it hath shot forth, and make it wither:  and this
without a strong arm, or many people to pluck it up by the root?
17:10. Behold, it is planted:  shall it prosper then?  shall it not be
dried up when the burning wind shall touch it, and shall it not wither
in the furrows where it grew?
17:11. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
17:12. Say to the provoking house:  Know you not what these things mean?
Tell them:  Behold the king of Babylon cometh to Jerusalem:  and he shall
take away the king and the princes thereof and carry them with him to
Shall take away. . .Or, hath taken away, etc., for all this was now
17:13. And he shall take one of the king's seed, and make a covenant
with him, and take an oath of him.  Yea, and he shall take away the
mighty men of the land,
17:14. That it may be a low kingdom and not lift itself up, but keep
his covenant and observe it.
17:15. But he hath revolted from him and sent ambassadors to Egypt,
that it might give him horses, and much people.  And shall he that hath
done thus prosper, or be saved?  and shall he escape that hath broken
the covenant?
17:16. As I live, saith the Lord God:  In the place where the king
dwelleth that made him king, whose oath he hath made void, and whose
covenant he broke, even in the midst of Babylon shall he die.
17:17. And not with a great army, nor with much people shall Pharao
fight against him:  when he shall cast up mounts, and build forts, to
cut off many souls.
17:18. For he had despised the oath, breaking his covenant, and behold
he hath given his hand:  and having done all these things, he shall not
17:19. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  As I live, I will lay upon
his head the oath he hath despised, and the covenant he hath broken.
17:20. And I will spread my net over him, and he shall be taken in my
net:  and I will bring him into Babylon, and will judge him there for
the transgression by which he hath despised me.
17:21. And all his fugitives with all his bands shall fall by the
sword:  and the residue shall be scattered into every wind:  and you
shall know that I the Lord have spoken.
17:22. Thus saith the Lord God:  I myself will take of the marrow of the
high cedar, and will set it:  I will crop off a tender twig from the top
of the branches thereof, and I will plant it on a mountain high and
Of the marrow of the high cedar, etc. . .Of the royal stock of
David.--Ibid.  A tender twig. . .Viz., Jesus Christ, whom God hath
planted in mount Sion, that is, the high mountain of his church, to
which all nations flow.
17:23. On the high mountains of Israel will I plant it, and it shall
shoot forth into branches and shall bear fruit, and it shall become a
great cedar:  and all birds shall dwell under it, and every fowl shall
make its nest under the shadow of the branches thereof.
17:24. And all the trees of the country shall know that I the Lord have
brought down the high tree, and exalted the low tree:  and have dried up
the green tree, and have caused the dry tree to flourish.  I the Lord
have spoken and have done it.
Ezechiel Chapter 18
One man shall not bear the sins of another, but every one his own; if a
wicked man truly repent, he shall be saved; and if a just man leave his
justice, he shall perish.
18:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:  What is the meaning?
18:2. That you use among you this parable as a proverb in the land of
Israel, saying:  The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the teeth of
the children are set on edge.
18:3. As I live, saith the Lord God, this parable shall be no more to
you a proverb in Israel.
18:4. Behold all souls are mine:  as the soul of the father, so also the
soul of the son is mine:  the soul that sinneth, the same shall die.
18:5. And if a man be just, and do judgment and justice,
18:6. And hath not eaten upon the mountains, nor lifted up his eyes to
the idols of the house of Israel:  and hath not defiled his neighbour's
wife, nor come near to a menstruous woman:
Not eaten upon the mountains. . .That is, of the sacrifices there
offered to idols.
18:7. And hath not wronged any man:  but hath restored the pledge to the
debtor, hath taken nothing away by violence:  hath given his bread to
the hungry, and hath covered the naked with a garment:
18:8. Hath not lent upon usury, nor taken any increase:  hath withdrawn
his hand from iniquity, and hath executed true judgment between man and
18:9. Hath walked in my commandments, and kept my judgments, to do
truth:  he is just, he shall surely live, saith the Lord God.
To do truth. . .That is, to act according to truth; for the Hebrews
called everything that was just, truth.
18:10. And if he beget a son that is a robber, a shedder of blood, and
that hath done some one of these things:
18:11. Though he doth not all these things, but that eateth upon the
mountains, and that defileth his neighbour's wife:
18:12. That grieveth the needy and the poor, that taketh away by
violence, that restoreth not the pledge, and that lifteth up his eyes
to idols, that comitteth abomination:
18:13. That giveth upon usury, and that taketh an increase:  shall such
a one live?  he shall not live.  Seeing he hath done all these detestable
things, he shall surely die, his blood shall be upon him.
18:14. But if he beget a son, who, seeing all his father's sins, which
he hath done, is afraid, and shall not do the like to them:
18:15. That hath not eaten upon the mountains, nor lifted up his eyes
to the idols of the house of Israel, and hath not defiled his
neighbour's wife:
18:16. And hath not grieved any man, nor withholden the pledge, nor
taken away with violence, but hath given his bread to the hungry, and
covered the naked with a garment:
18:17. That hath turned away his hand from injuring the poor, hath not
taken usury and increase, but hath executed my judgments, and hath
walked in my commandments:  this man shall not die for the iniquity of
his father, but living he shall live.
18:18. As for his father, because he oppressed and offered violence to
his brother, and wrought evil in the midst of his people, behold he is
dead in his own iniquity.
18:19. And you say:  Why hath not the son borne the iniquity of his
father?  Verily, because the son hath wrought judgment and justice, hath
kept all my commandments, and done them, living, he shall live.
18:20. The soul that sinneth, the same shall die:  the son shall not
bear the iniquity of the father, and the father shall not bear the
iniquity of the son:  the justice of the just shall be upon him, and the
wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.
18:21. But if the wicked do penance for all his sins which he hath
committed, and keep all my commandments, and do judgment, and justice,
living he shall live, and shall not die.
18:22. I will not remember all his iniquities that he hath done:  in his
justice which he hath wrought, he shall live.
18:23. Is it my will that a sinner should die, saith the Lord God, and
not that he should be converted from his ways, and live?
18:24. But if the just man turn himself away from his justice, and do
iniquity according to all the abominations which the wicked man useth
to work, shall he live?  all his justices which he hath done, shall not
be remembered:  in the prevarication, by which he hath prevaricated, and
in his sin, which he hath committed, in them he shall die.
18:25. And you have said:  The way of the Lord is not right.  Hear ye,
therefore, O house of Israel:  Is it my way that is not right, and are
not rather your ways perverse?
18:26. For when the just turneth himself away from his justice, and
comitteth iniquity, he shall die therein:  in the injustice that he hath
wrought he shall die.
18:27. And when the wicked turneth himself away from his wickedness,
which he hath wrought, and doeth judgment, and justice:  he shall save
his soul alive.
18:28. Because he considereth and turneth away himself from all his
iniquities which he hath wrought, he shall surely live, and not die.
18:29. And the children of Israel say:  The way of the Lord is not
right.  Are not my ways right, O house of Israel, and are not rather
your ways perverse?
18:30. Therefore will I judge every man according to his ways, O house
of Israel, saith the Lord God.  Be converted, and do penance for all
your iniquities:  and iniquity shall not be your ruin.
18:31. Cast away from you all your transgressions, by which you have
transgressed, and make to yourselves a new heart, and a new spirit:  and
why will you die, O house of Israel?
18:32. For I desire not the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord
God, return ye and live.
Ezechiel Chapter 19
The parable of the young lions, and of the vineyard that is wasted.
19:1. Moreover take thou up a lamentation for the princes of Israel,
19:2. And say:  Why did thy mother the lioness lie down among the lions,
and bring up her whelps in the midst of young lions?
Thy mother the lioness. . .Jerusalem.
19:3. And she brought out one of her whelps, and he became a lion:  and
he learned to catch the prey, and to devour men.
One of her whelps. . .Viz., Joachaz, alias Sellum.
19:4. And the nations heard of him, and took him, but not without
receiving wounds:  and they brought him in chains into the land of
19:5. But she seeing herself weakened, and that her hope was lost, took
one of her young lions, and set him up for a lion.
One of her young lions. . .Joakim.
19:6. And he went up and down among the lions, and became a lion:  and
he learned to catch the prey, and to devour men.
19:7. He learned to make widows, and to lay waste their cities:  and the
land became desolate, and the fulness thereof by the noise of his
19:8. And the nations came together against him on every side out of
the provinces, and they spread their net over him, in their wounds he
19:9. And they put him into a cage, they brought him in chains to the
king of Babylon:  and they cast him into prison, that his voice should
no more be heard upon the mountains of Israel.
19:10. Thy mother is like a vine in thy blood planted by the water:  her
fruit and her branches have grown out of many waters.
19:11. And she hath strong rods to make sceptres for them that bear
rule, and her stature was exalted among the branches:  and she saw her
height in the multitude of her branches.
19:12. But she was plucked up in wrath, and cast on the ground, and the
burning wind dried up her fruit:  her strong rods are withered, and
dried up:  the fire hath devoured her.
19:13. And now she is transplanted into the desert, in a land not
passable, and dry.
19:14. And a fire is gone out from a rod of her branches, which hath
devoured her fruit:  so that she now hath no strong rod, to be a sceptre
of rulers.  This is a lamentation, and it shall be for a lamentation.
Ezechiel Chapter 20
God refuses to answer the ancients of Israel inquiring by the prophet:
but by him setteth his benefits before their eyes, and their heinous
sins:  threatening yet greater punishments:  but still mixed with mercy.
20:1. And it came to pass in the seventh year, in the fifth month, the
tenth day of the month:  there came men of the ancients of Israel to
inquire of the Lord, and they sat before me.
20:2. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
20:3. Son of man, speak to the ancients of Israel and say to them:  Thus
saith the Lord God:  Are you come to inquire of me?  As I live, I will
not answer you, saith the Lord God.
20:4. If thou judgest them, if thou judgest, O son of man, declare to
them the abominations of their fathers.
If thou judgest them. . .Or, if thou wilt enter into the cause and plead
against them.
20:5. And say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  In the day when I chose
Israel, and lifted up my hand for the race of the house of Jacob:  and
appeared to them in the land of Egypt, and lifted up my hand for them,
saying:  I am the Lord your God:
20:6. In that day I lifted up my hand for them to bring them out of the
land of Egypt, into a land which I had provided for them, flowing with
milk and honey, which excelled amongst all lands.
20:7. And I said to them:  Let every man cast away the scandals of his
eyes, and defile not yourselves with the idols of Egypt:  I am the Lord
Scandals, etc. . .Offensiones.  That is, the abominations or idols, to
the worship of which they were allured by their eyes.
20:8. But they provoked me, and would not hearken to me:  they did not
every man cast away the abominations of his eyes, neither did they
forsake the idols of Egypt:  and I said I would pour out my indignation
upon them, and accomplish my wrath against them in the midst of the
land of Egypt.
20:9. But I did otherwise for my name's sake, that it might not be
violated before the nations, in the midst of whom they were, and among
whom I made myself known to them, to bring them out of the land of
20:10. Therefore I brought them out from the land of Egypt, and brought
them into the desert.
20:11. And I gave them my statutes, and I shewed them my judgments,
which if a man do, he shall live in them.
20:12. Moreover I gave them also my sabbaths, to be a sign between me
and them:  and that they might know that I am the Lord that sanctify
20:13. But the house of Israel provoked me in the desert:  they walked
not in my statutes, and they cast away my judgments, which if a man do
he shall live in them:  and they grievously violated my sabbaths.  I said
therefore that I would pour out my indignation upon them in the desert,
and would consume them.
20:14. But I spared them for the sake of my name, lest it should be
profaned before the nations, from which I brought them out, in their
20:15. So I lifted up my hand over them in the desert, not to bring
them into the land which I had given them flowing with milk and honey,
the best of all lands.
20:16. Because they cast off my judgments, and walked not in my
statutes, and violated my sabbaths:  for their heart went after idols.
20:17. Yet my eye spared them, so that I destroyed them not:  neither
did I consume them in the desert.
20:18. And I said to their children in the wilderness:  Walk not in the
statutes of your fathers, and observe not their judgments, nor be ye
defiled with their idols:
20:19. I am the Lord your God:  walk ye in my statutes, and observe my
judgments, and do them.
20:20. And sanctify my sabbaths, that they may be a sign between me and
you:  and that you may know that I am the Lord your God.
20:21. But their children provoked me, they walked not in my
commandments, nor observed my judgments to do them:  which if a man do,
he shall live in them:  and they violated my sabbaths:  and I threatened
to pour out my indignation upon them, and to accomplish my wrath in
them in the desert.
20:22. But I turned away my hand, and wrought for my name's sake, that
it might not be violated before the nations, out of which I brought
them forth in their sight.
20:23. Again I lifted up my hand upon them in the wilderness, to
disperse them among the nations, and scatter them through the
20:24. Because they had not done my judgments, and had cast off my
statutes, and had violated my sabbaths, and their eyes had been after
the idols of their fathers.
20:25. Therefore I also gave them statutes that were not good, and
judgments, in which they shall not live.
Statutes that were not good, etc. . .Viz., the laws and ordinances of
their enemies; or those imposes upon them by that cruel tyrant the
devil, to whose power they were delivered up for their sins.
20:26. And I polluted them in their own gifts, when they offered all
that opened the womb, for their offences:  and they shall know that I am
I polluted them, etc. . .That is, I gave them up to such blindness in
punishment of their offences, as to pollute themselves with the blood
of all their firstborn, whom they offered up to their idols in
compliance with their wicked devices.
20:27. Wherefore speak to the house of Israel, O son of man, and say to
them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Moreover in this also your fathers
blaspheme me, when they had despised and contemned me;
20:28. And I had brought them into the land, for which I lifted up my
hand to give it them:  they saw every high hill, and every shady tree,
and there they sacrificed their victims:  and there they presented the
provocation of their offerings, and there they set their sweet odours,
and poured forth their libations.
20:29. And I said to them:  What meaneth the high place to which you go?
and the name thereof was called High-place even to this day.
20:30. Wherefore say to the house of Israel:  Thus saith the Lord God:
Verily, you are defiled in the way of your fathers, and you commit
fornication with their abominations.
20:31. And you defile yourselves with all your idols unto this day, in
the offering of your gifts, when you make your children pass through
the fire:  and shall I answer you, O house of Israel?  As I live, saith
the Lord God, I will not answer you.
20:32. Neither shall the thought of your mind come to pass, by which
you say:  We will be as the Gentiles, and as the families of the earth,
to worship stocks and stones.
20:33. As I live, saith the Lord God, I will reign over you with a
strong hand, and with a stretched out arm, and with fury poured out.
20:34. And I will bring you out from the people, and I will gather you
out of the countries, in which you are scattered, I will reign over you
with a strong hand and with a stretched out arm, and with fury poured
20:35. And I will bring you into the wilderness of people, and there
will I plead with you face to face.
The wilderness of people. . .That is, a desert in which there are no
20:36. As I pleaded against your fathers in the desert of the land of
Egypt; even so will I judge you, saith the Lord God.
20:37. And I will make you subject to my sceptre, and will bring you
into the bands of the covenant.
20:38. And I will pick out from among you the transgressors, and the
wicked, and will bring them out of the land where they sojourn, and
they shall not enter into the land of Israel:  and you shall know that I
am the Lord.
20:39. And as for you, O house of Israel:  thus saith the Lord God:  Walk
ye every one after your idols, and serve them.  But if in this also you
hear me not, but defile my holy name any more with your gifts, and with
Walk ye every one, etc. . .It is not an allowance, much less a
commandment to serve idols; but a figure of speech, by which God would
have them to understand that if they would walk after their idols, they
must not pretend to serve him at the same time:  for that he would by no
means suffer such a mixture of worship.
20:40. In my holy mountain, in the high mountain of Israel, saith the
Lord God, there shall all the house of Israel serve me; all of them I
say, in the land in which they shall please me, and there will I
require your firstfruits, and the chief of your tithes with all your
sanctifications.
In my holy mountain, etc. . .The foregoing verse, to make the sense
complete, must be understood so as to condemn and reject that mixture
of worship which the Jews then followed.  In this verse, God promises to
the true Israelites, especially to those of the Christian church, that
they shall serve him in another manner, in his holy mountain, the
spiritual Sion:  and shall by accepted of by him.
20:41. I will accept of you for an odour of sweetness, when I shall
have brought you out from the people, and shall have gathered you out
of the lands into which you are scattered, and I will be sanctified in
you in the sight of the nations.
20:42. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall have brought
you into the land of Israel, into the land for which I lifted up my
hand to give it to your fathers.
20:43. And there you shall remember your ways, and all your wicked
doings with which you have been defiled; and you shall be displeased
with yourselves in your own sight, for all your wicked deeds which you
20:44. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall have done
well by you for my own name's sake, and not according to your evil
ways, nor according to your wicked deeds, O house of Israel, saith the
20:45. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
20:46. Son of man, set thy face against the way of the south, and drop
towards the south, and prophesy against the forest of the south field.
Of the south. . .Jerusalem lay towards the south of Babylon, (where the
prophet then was,) and is here called the forest of the south field,
and is threatened with utter desolation.
20:47. And say to the south forest:  Hear the word of the Lord:  Thus
saith the Lord God:  Behold I will kindle a fire in thee, and will burn
in thee every green tree, and every dry tree:  the flame of the fire
shall not be quenched:  and every face shall be burned in it, from the
south even to the north.
20:48. And all flesh shall see, that I the Lord have kindled it, and it
shall not be quenched.
20:49. And I said:  Ah, ah, ah, O Lord God:  they say of me:  Doth not
this man speak by parables?
Ezechiel Chapter 21
The destruction of Jerusalem by the sword is further described:  the
ruin also of the Ammonites is forshewn.  And finally Babylon, the
destroyer of others, shall be destroyed.
21:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
21:2. Son of man, set thy face toward Jerusalem, and let thy speech
flow towards the holy places, and prophesy against the land of Israel:
21:3. And say to the land of Israel, Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I
come against thee, and I will draw forth my sword out of its sheath,
and will cut off in thee the just, and the wicked.
21:4. And forasmuch as I have cut off in thee the just and the wicked,
therefore shall my sword go forth out of its sheath against all flesh,
from the south even to the north.
21:5. That all flesh may know that I the Lord have drawn my sword out
of its sheath not to be turned back.
21:6. And thou, son of man, mourn with the breaking of thy loins, and
with bitterness sigh before them.
21:7. And when they shall say to thee:  Why mournest thou?  thou shalt
say:  For that which I hear:  because it cometh, and every heart shall
melt, and all hands shall be made feeble, and every spirit shall faint,
and water shall run down every knee:  behold it cometh, and it shall be
done, saith the Lord God.
21:8. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
21:9. Son of man, prophesy, and say:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Say:  The
sword, the sword is sharpened, and furbished.
21:10. It is sharpened to kill victims:  it is furbished that it may
glitter:  thou removest the sceptre of my son, thou hast cut down every
Thou removest the sceptre of my son. . .He speaks (according to St.
Jerome) to the sword of Nabuchodonosor:  which was about to remove the
sceptre of Israel, whom God here calls his son.
21:11. And I have given it to be furbished, that it may be handled:
this sword is sharpened, and it is furbished, that it may be in the
hand of the slayer.
21:12. Cry, and howl, O son of man, for this sword is upon my people,
it is upon all the princes of Israel, that are fled:  they are delivered
up to the sword with my people, strike therefore upon thy thigh,
21:13. Because it is tried:  and that when it shall overthrow the
sceptre, and it shall not be, saith the Lord God.
21:14. Thou therefore, O son of man, prophesy, and strike thy hands
together, and let the sword be doubled, and let the sword of the slain
be tripled:  this is the sword of a great slaughter, that maketh them
stand amazed,
21:15. And languish in heart, and that multiplieth ruins.  In all their
gates I have set the dread of the sharp sword, the sword that is
furbished to glitter, that is made ready for slaughter.
21:16. Be thou sharpened, go to the right hand, or to the left, which
way soever thou hast a mind to set thy face.
21:17. And I will clap my hands together, and will satisfy my
indignation:  I the Lord have spoken.
21:18. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
21:19. And thou son of man, set thee two ways, for the sword of the
king of Babylon to come:  both shall come forth out of one land:  and
with his hand he shall draw lots, he shall consult at the head of the
way of the city.
21:20. Thou shalt make a way that the sword may come to Rabbath of the
children of Ammon, and to Juda unto Jerusalem the strong city.
21:21. For the king of Babylon stood in the highway, at the head of two
ways, seeking divination, shuffling arrows:  he inquired of the idols,
and consulted entrails.
21:22. On his right hand was the divination for Jerusalem, to set
battering rams, to open the mouth in slaughter, to lift up the voice in
howling, to set engines against the gates, to cast up a mount, to build
21:23. And he shall be in their eyes as one consulting the oracle in
vain, and imitating the leisure of sabbaths:  but he will call to
remembrance the iniquity that they may be taken.
21:24. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Because you have remembered
your iniquity, and have discovered your prevarications, and your sins
have appeared in all your devices:  because, I say, You have remembered,
you shall be taken with the hand.
21:25. But thou profane wicked prince of Israel, whose day is come that
hath been appointed in the time of iniquity:
Thou profane, etc. . .He speaks to king Sedecias, who had broken his
oath, and was otherwise a wicked prince.
21:26. Thus saith the Lord God:  Remove the diadem, take off the crown:
is it not this that hath exalted the low one, and brought down him that
Is it not this that hath exalted the low one. . .The royal crown of Juda
had exalted Sedecias from a private state and condition to the
sovereign power, as the loss of it had brought down Jechonias, etc.
21:27. I will shew it to be iniquity, iniquity, iniquity:  but this was
not done till he came to whom judgment belongeth, and I will give it
I will shew it to be iniquity, etc. . .Or, I will overturn it, viz., the
crown of Juda for the manifold iniquities of the kings:  but it shall
not be utterly removed, till Christ come whose right it is:  and who
shall reign in the spiritual house of Jacob, that is, in his church,
for evermore.
21:28. And thou son of man, prophesy, and say:  Thus saith the Lord God
concerning the children of Ammon, and concerning their reproach, and
thou shalt say:  O sword, O sword, come out of the scabbard to kill, be
furbished to destroy, and to glitter,
Concerning their reproach. . .By which they had reproached and insulted
over the Jews, at the time of the destruction of Jerusalem.
21:29. Whilst they see vain things in thy regard, and they divine lies:
to bring thee upon the necks of the wicked that are wounded, whose
appointed day is come in the time of iniquity.
21:30. Return into thy sheath.  I will judge thee in the place wherein
thou wast created, in the land of thy nativity.
Return into thy sheath, etc. . .The sword of Babylon, after raging
against many nations, was shortly to be judged and destroyed at home by
the Medes and Persians.
21:31. And I will pour out upon thee my indignation:  in the fire of my
rage will I blow upon thee, and will give thee into the hands of men
that are brutish and contrive thy destruction.
21:32. Thou shalt be fuel for the fire, thy blood shall be in the midst
of the land, thou shalt be forgotten:  for I the Lord have spoken it.
Ezechiel Chapter 22
The general corruption of the inhabitants of Jerusalem:  for which God
will consume them as dross in his furnace.
22:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
22:2. And thou son of man, dost thou not judge, dost thou not judge the
city of blood?
22:3. And thou shalt shew her all her abominations, and shalt say:  Thus
saith the Lord God:  This is the city that sheddeth blood in the midst
of her, that her time may come:  and that hath made idols against
herself, to defile herself.
22:4. Thou art become guilty in thy blood which thou hast shed:  and
thou art defiled in thy idols which thou hast made:  and thou hast made
thy days to draw near, and hast brought on the time of thy years:
therefore have I made thee a reproach to the Gentiles, and a mockery to
all countries.
22:5. Those that are near, and those that are far from thee, shall
triumph over thee:  thou filthy one, infamous, great in destruction.
22:6. Behold the princes of Israel, every one hath employed his arm in
thee to shed blood.
22:7. They have abused father and mother in thee, they have oppressed
the stranger in the midst of thee, they have grieved the fatherless and
widow in thee.
22:8. Thou hast despised my sanctuaries, and profaned my sabbaths.
22:9. Slanderers have been in thee to shed blood, and they have eaten
upon the mountains in thee, they have committed wickedness in the midst
22:10. They have discovered the nakedness of their father in thee, they
have humbled the uncleanness of the menstruous woman in thee.
22:11. And every one hath committed abomination with his neighbour's
wife, and the father in law hath wickedly defiled his daughter in law,
the brother hath oppressed his sister the daughter of his father in
22:12. They have taken gifts in thee to shed blood:  thou hast taken
usury and increase, and hast covetously oppressed thy neighbours:  and
thou hast forgotten me, saith the Lord God.
22:13. Behold, I have clapped my hands at thy covetousness, which thou
hast exercised:  and at the blood that hath been shed in the midst of
22:14. Shall thy heart endure, or shall thy hands prevail in the days
which I will bring upon thee:  I the Lord have spoken, and will do it.
22:15. And I will disperse thee in the nations, and will scatter thee
among the countries, and I will put an end to thy uncleanness in thee.
22:16. And I will possess thee in the sight of the Gentiles, and thou
shalt know that I am the Lord.
22:17. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
22:18. Son of man, the house of Israel is become dross to me:  all these
are brass, and tin, and iron, and lead, in the midst of the furnace:
they are become the dross of silver.
22:19. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Because you are all turned
into dross, therefore behold I will gather you together in the midst of
22:20. As they gather silver, and brass, and tin, and iron, and lead in
the midst of the furnace:  that I may kindle a fire in it to melt it:  so
will I gather you together in my fury and in my wrath, and will take my
rest, and I will melt you down.
22:21. And will gather you together, and will burn you in the fire of
my wrath, and you shall be melted in the midst thereof.
22:22. As silver is melted in the midst of the furnace, so shall you be
in the midst thereof:  and you shall know that I am the Lord, when I
have poured out my indignation upon you.
22:23. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
22:24. Son of man, say to her:  Thou art a land that is unclean, and not
rained upon in the day of wrath.
22:25. There is a conspiracy of prophets in the midst thereof:  like a
lion that roareth and catcheth the prey, they have devoured souls, they
have taken riches and hire, they have made many widows in the midst
22:26. Her priests have despised my law, and have defiled my
sanctuaries:  they have put no difference between holy and profane:  nor
have distinguished between the polluted and the clean:  and they have
turned away their eyes from my sabbaths, and I was profaned in the
midst of them.
22:27. Her princes in the midst of her, are like wolves ravening the
prey to shed blood, and to destroy souls, and to run after gains
through covetousness.
22:28. And her prophets have daubed them without tempering the mortar,
seeing vain things, and divining lies unto them, saying:  Thus saith the
Lord God:  when the Lord hath not spoken.
22:29. The people of the land have used oppression, and committed
robbery:  they afflicted the needy and poor, and they oppressed the
stranger by calumny without judgment.
22:30. And I sought among them for a man that might set up a hedge, and
stand in the gap before me in favour of the land, that I might not
destroy it:  and I found none.
22:31. And I poured out my indignation upon them, in the fire of my
wrath I consumed them:  I have rendered their way upon their own head,
saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 23
Under the names of the two harlots, Oolla and Ooliba, are described the
manifold disloyalties of Samaria and Jerusalem, with the punishment of
23:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
23:2. Son of man, there were two women, daughters of one mother.
23:3. And they committed fornication in Egypt, in their youth they
committed fornication:  there were their breasts pressed down, and the
teats of their virginity were bruised.
Committed fornication. . .That is, idolatry.
23:4. And their names were Oolla the elder, and Ooliba her younger
sister:  and I took them, and they bore sons and daughters.  Now for
their names, Samaria is Oolla, and Jerusalem is Ooliba.
Oolla and Ooliba. . .God calls the kingdom of Israel Oolla, which
signifies their own habitation, because they separated themselves from
his temple:  and the kingdom of Juda, Ooliba, which signifies his
habitation in her, because of his temple among them in Jerusalem.
23:5. And Oolla committed fornication against me, and doted on her
lovers, on the Assyrians that came to her,
On the Assyraians, etc. . .That is, the idols of the Assyrians:  for all
that is said in this chapter of the fornications of Israel and Juda, is
to be understood in a spiritual sense, of their disloyalty to the Lord,
by worshipping strange gods.
23:6. Who were clothed with blue, princes, and rulers, beautiful
youths, all horsemen, mounted upon horses.
23:7. And she committed her fornications with those chosen men, all
sons of the Assyrians:  and she defiled herself with the uncleanness of
all them on whom she doted.
23:8. Moreover also she did not forsake her fornications which she had
committed in Egypt:  for they also lay with her in her youth, and they
bruised the breasts of her virginity, and poured out their fornication
23:9. Therefore have I delivered her into the hands of her lovers, into
the hands of the sons of the Assyrians, upon whose lust she doted.
23:10. They discovered her disgrace, took away her sons and daughters,
and slew her with the sword:  and they became infamous women, and they
executed judgments in her.
23:11. And when her sister Ooliba saw this, she was mad with lust more
than she:  and she carried her fornication beyond the fornication of her
23:12. Impudently prostituting herself to the children of the
Assyrians, the princes, and rulers that came to her, clothed with
divers colours, to the horsemen that rode upon horses, and to young men
all of great beauty.
23:13. And I saw that she was defiled, and that they both took one way.
23:14. And she increased her fornications:  and when she had seen men
painted on the wall, the images of the Chaldeans set forth in colours,
23:15. And girded with girdles about their reins, and with dyed turbans
on their heads, the resemblance of all the captains, the likeness of
the sons of Babylon, and of the land of the Chaldeans wherein they were
23:16. She doted upon them with the lust of her eyes, and she sent
messengers to them into Chaldea.
23:17. And when the sons of Babylon were come to her to the bed of
love, they defiled her with their fornications, and she was polluted by
them, and her soul was glutted with them.
23:18. And she discovered her fornications, and discovered her
disgrace:  and my soul was alienated from her, as my soul was alienated
from her sister.
23:19. For she multiplied her fornications, remembering the days of her
youth, in which she played the harlot in the land of Egypt.
23:20. And she was mad with lust after lying with them whose flesh is
as the flesh of asses:  and whose issue as the issue of horses.
23:21. And thou hast renewed the wickedness of thy youth, when thy
breasts were pressed in Egypt, and the paps of thy virginity broken.
23:22. Therefore, Ooliba, thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I will raise
up against thee all thy lovers with whom thy soul hath been glutted:
and I will gather them together against thee round about.
23:23. The children of Babylon, and all the Chaldeans, the nobles, and
the kings, and princes, all the sons of the Assyrians, beautiful young
men, all the captains, and rulers, the princes of princes, and the
renowned horsemen.
23:24. And they shall come upon thee well appointed with chariot and
wheel, a multitude of people:  they shall be armed against thee on every
side with breastplate, and buckler, and helmet:  and I will set judgment
before them, and they shall judge thee by their judgments.
23:25. And I will set my jealousy against thee, which they shall
execute upon thee with fury:  they shall cut off thy nose and thy ears:
and what remains shall fall by the sword:  they shall take thy sons, and
thy daughters, and thy residue shall be devoured by fire.
23:26. And they shall strip thee of thy garments, and take away the
instruments of thy glory.
23:27. And I will put an end to thy wickedness in thee, and thy
fornication brought out of the land of Egypt:  neither shalt thou lift
up thy eyes to them, nor remember Egypt any more.
23:28. For thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I will deliver thee into
the hands of them whom thou hatest, into their hands with whom thy soul
hath been glutted.
23:29. And they shall deal with thee in hatred, and they shall take
away all thy labours, and shall let thee go naked, and full of
disgrace, and the disgrace of thy fornication shall be discovered, thy
wickedness, and thy fornications.
23:30. They have done these things to thee, because thou hast played
the harlot with the nations among which thou wast defiled with their
23:31. Thou hast walked in the way of thy sister and I will give her
cup into thy hand.
23:32. Thus saith the Lord God:  Thou shalt drink thy sister's cup, deep
and wide:  thou shalt be had in derision and scorn, which containeth
23:33. Thou shalt be filled with drunkenness, and sorrow:  with the cup
of grief and sadness, with the cup of thy sister Samaria.
23:34. And thou shalt drink it, and shalt drink it up even to the
dregs, and thou shalt devour the fragments thereof, thou shalt rend thy
breasts:  because I have spoken it, saith the Lord God.
23:35. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Because thou hast forgotten
me, and hast cast me off behind thy back, bear thou also thy
wickedness, and thy fornications.
23:36. And the Lord spoke to me, saying:  Son of man, dost thou judge
Oolla, and Ooliba, and dost thou declare to them their wicked deeds?
23:37. Because they have committed adultery, and blood is in their
hands, and they have committed fornication with their idols:  moreover
also their children, whom they bore to me, they have offered to them to
be devoured.
23:38. Yea, and they have done this to me.  They polluted my sanctuary
on the same day, and profaned my sabbaths.
23:39. And when they sacrificed their children to their idols, and went
into my sanctuary the same day to profane it:  they did these things
even in the midst of my house.
23:40. They sent for men coming from afar, to whom they had sent a
messenger:  and behold they came:  for whom thou didst wash thyself, and
didst paint thy eyes, and wast adorned with women's ornaments.
23:41. Thou sattest on a very fine bed, and a table was decked before
thee:  whereupon thou didst set my incense, and my ointment.
23:42. And there was in her the voice of a multitude rejoicing:  and to
some that were brought of the multitude of men, and that came from the
desert, they put bracelets on their hands, and beautiful crowns on
their heads.
23:43. And I said to her that was worn out in her adulteries:  Now will
this woman still continue in her fornication.
23:44. And they went in to her, as to a harlot:  so went they in unto
Oolla, and Ooliba, wicked women.
23:45. They therefore are just men:  these shall judge them as
adulteresses are judged, and as shedders of blood are judged:  because
they are adulteresses, and blood is in their hands.
23:46. For thus saith the Lord God:  Bring a multitude upon them, and
deliver them over to tumult and rapine:
23:47. And let the people stone them with stone, and let them be
stabbed with their swords:  they shall kill their sons and daughters,
and their houses they shall burn with fire.
23:48. And I will take away wickedness out of the land:  and all women
shall learn, not to do according to the wickedness of them.
23:49. And they shall render your wickedness upon you, and you shall
bear the sins of your idols:  and you shall know that I am the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 24
Under the parable of a boiling pot is shewn the utter destruction of
Jerusalem:  for which the Jews at Babylon shall not dare to mourn.
24:1. And the word of the Lord came to me in the ninth year, in the
tenth month, the tenth day of the month, saying:
24:2. Son of man, write thee the name of this day, on which the king of
Babylon hath set himself against Jerusalem to day.
24:3. And thou shalt speak by a figure a parable to the provoking
house, and say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Set on a pot, set it
on, I say, and put water in it.
24:4. Heap together into it the pieces thereof, every good piece, the
thigh and the shoulder, choice pieces and full of bones.
24:5. Take the fattest of the flock, and lay together piles of bones
under it:  the seething thereof is boiling hot, and the bones thereof
are thoroughly sodden in the midst of it.
24:6. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Woe to the bloody city, to the
pot whose rust is in it, and its rust is not gone out of it:  cast it
out piece by piece, there hath no lot fallen upon it.
24:7. For her blood is in the midst of her, she hath shed it upon the
smooth rock:  she hath not shed it upon the ground, that it might be
covered with dust.
24:8. And that I might bring my indignation upon her, and take my
vengeance:  I have shed her blood upon the smooth rock, that it should
not be covered.
24:9. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Woe to the bloody city, of
which I will make a great bonfire.
24:10. Heap together the bones, which I will burn with fire:  the flesh
shall be consumed, and the whole composition shall be sodden, and the
bones shall be consumed.
24:11. Then set it empty upon burning coals, that it may be hot, and
the brass thereof may be melted:  and let the filth of it be melted in
the midst thereof, and let the rust of it be consumed.
24:12. Great pains have been taken, and the great rust thereof is not
gone out, not even by fire.
24:13. Thy uncleanness is execrable:  because I desired to cleanse thee,
and thou art not cleansed from thy filthiness:  neither shalt thou be
cleansed, before I cause my indignation to rest in thee.
24:14. I the Lord have spoken:  it shall come to pass, and I will do it:
I will not pass by, nor spare, nor be pacified:  I will judge thee
according to thy ways, and according to thy doings, saith the Lord.
24:15. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
24:16. Son of man, behold I take from thee the desire of thy eyes with
a stroke, and thou shall not lament, nor weep; neither shall thy tears
24:17. Sigh in silence, make no mourning for the dead:  let the tire of
thy head be upon thee, and thy shoes on thy feet, and cover not thy
face, nor eat the meat of mourners.
24:18. So I spoke to the people in the morning, and my wife died in the
evening:  and I did in the morning as he had commanded me.
24:19. And the people said to me:  Why dost thou not tell us what these
things mean that thou doest?
24:20. And I said to them:  The word of the Lord came to me, saying:
24:21. Speak to the house of Israel:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I
will profane my sanctuary, the glory of your realm, and the thing that
your eyes desire, and for which your soul feareth:  your sons, and your
daughters, whom you have left, shall fall by the sword.
24:22. And you shall do as I have done:  you shall not cover your faces,
nor shall you eat the meat of mourners.
24:23. You shall have crowns on your heads, and shoes on your feet:  you
shall not lament nor weep, but you shall pine away for your iniquities,
and every one shall sigh with his brother.
24:24. And Ezechiel shall be unto you for a sign of things to come:
according to all that he hath done, so shall you do, when this shall
come to pass:  and you shall know that I am the Lord God.
24:25. And thou, O son of man, behold in the day wherein I will take
away from them their strength, and the joy of their glory, and the
desire of their eyes, upon which their souls rest, their sons and their
24:26. In that day when he that escapeth shall come to thee, to tell
24:27. In that day, I say, shall thy mouth be opened to him that hath
escaped, and thou shalt speak, and shalt be silent no more:  and thou
shalt be unto them for a sign of things to come, and you shall know
that I am the Lord.
Ezechiel Chapter 25
A prophecy against the Ammonites, Moabites, Edomites, and Philistines,
for their malice against the Israelites.
25:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
25:2. Son of man, set thy face against the children of Ammon, and thou
shalt prophesy of them.
25:3. And thou shalt say to the children of Ammon:  Hear ye the word of
the Lord God:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Because thou hast said:  Ha, ha,
upon my sanctuary, because it was profaned:  and upon the land of
Israel, because it was laid waste:  and upon the house of Juda, because
they are led into captivity:
25:4. Therefore will I deliver thee to the men of the east for an
inheritance, and they shall place their sheepcotes in thee, and shall
set up their tents in thee:  they shall eat thy fruits:  and they shall
drink thy milk.
25:5. And I will make Rabbath a stable for camels, and the children of
Ammon a couching place for flocks:  and you shall know that I am the
Rabbath. . .The capital city of the Ammonites:  it was afterwards called
Philadelphia.
25:6. For thus saith the Lord God:  Because thou hast clapped thy hands
and stamped with thy foot, and hast rejoiced with all thy heart against
the land of Israel:
25:7. Therefore behold I will stretch forth my hand upon thee, and will
deliver thee to be the spoil of nations, and will cut thee off from
among the people, and destroy thee out of the lands, and break thee in
pieces:  and thou shalt know that I am the Lord.
25:8. Thus saith the Lord God:  Because Moab and Seir have said:  Behold
the house of Juda is like all other nations:
25:9. Therefore behold I will open the shoulder of Moab from the
cities, from his cities, I say, and his borders, the noble cities of
the land of Bethiesimoth, and Beelmeon, and Cariathaim,
25:10. To the people of the east with the children of Ammon, and I will
give it them for an inheritance:  that there may be no more any
remembrance of the children of Ammon among the nations.
25:11. And I will execute judgments in Moab:  and they shall know that I
am the Lord.
25:12. Thus saith the Lord God:  Because Edom hath taken vengeance to
revenge herself of the children of Juda, and hath greatly offended, and
hath sought revenge of them:
25:13. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  I will stretch forth my hand
upon Edom, and will take away out of it man and beast, and will make it
desolate from the south:  and they that are in Dedan shall fall by the
25:14. And I will lay my vengeance upon Edom by the hand of my people
Israel:  and they shall do in Edom according to my wrath, and my fury:
and they shall know my vengeance, saith the Lord God.
25:15. Thus saith the Lord God:  Because the Philistines have taken
vengeance, and have revenged themselves with all their mind, destroying
and satisfying old enmities:
25:16. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I will stretch forth
my hand upon the Philistines, and will kill the killers, and will
destroy the remnant of the sea coast.
25:17. And I will execute great vengeance upon them, rebuking them in
fury:  and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall lay my
vengeance upon them.
Ezechiel Chapter 26
A prophecy of the destruction of the famous city of Tyre by
Nabuchodonosor.
26:1. And it came to pass in the eleventh year, the first day of the
month, that the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
26:2. Son of man, because Tyre hath said of Jerusalem:  Aha, the gates
of the people are broken, she is turned to me:  I shall be filled, now
she is laid waste.
26:3. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I come against thee, O
Tyre, and I will cause many nations to come up to thee, as the waves of
the sea rise up.
26:4. And they shall break down the walls of Tyre, and destroy the
towers thereof:  and I will scrape her dust from her, and make her like
a smooth rock.
26:5. She shall be a drying place for nets in the midst of the sea,
because I have spoken it, saith the Lord God:  and she shall be a spoil
to the nations.
26:6. Her daughters also that are in the field, shall be slain by the
sword:  and they shall know that I am the Lord.
26:7. For thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I will bring against Tyre
Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon, the king of kings, from the north, with
horses, and chariots, and horsemen, and companies, and much people.
26:8. Thy daughters that are in the field, he shall kill with the
sword:  and he shall compass thee with forts, and shall cast up a mount
round about:  and he shall lift up the buckler against thee.
26:9. And he shall set engines of war and battering rams against thy
walls, and shall destroy thy towers with his arms.
26:10. By reason of the multitude of his horses, their dust shall cover
thee:  thy walls shall shake at the noise of the horsemen, and wheels,
and chariots, when they shall go in at thy gates, as by the entrance of
a city that is destroyed.
26:11. With the hoofs of his horses he shall tread down all thy
streets, thy people he shall kill with the sword, and thy famous
statues shall fall to the ground.
26:12. They shall waste thy riches, they shall make a spoil of thy
merchandise:  and they shall destroy thy walls, and pull down thy fine
houses:  and they shall lay thy stones and thy timber, and thy dust in
the midst of the waters.
26:13. And I will make the multitude of thy songs to cease, and the
sound of thy harps shall be heard no more.
26:14. And I will make thee like a naked rock, thou shalt be a drying
place for nets, neither shalt thou be built any more:  for I have spoken
it, saith the Lord God.
26:15. Thus saith the Lord God to Tyre:  Shall not the islands shake at
the sound of thy fall, and the groans of thy slain when they shall be
killed in the midst of thee?
26:16. Then all the princes of the sea shall come down from their
thrones:  and take off their robes, and cast away their broidered
garments, and be clothed with astonishment:  they shall sit on the
ground, and with amazement shall wonder at thy sudden fall.
26:17. And taking up a lamentation over thee, they shall say to thee:
How art thou fallen, that dwellest in the sea, renowned city that wast
strong in the sea, with thy inhabitants whom all did dread?
26:18. Now shall the ships be astonished in the day of thy terror:  and
the islands in the sea shall be troubled because no one cometh out of
26:19. For thus saith the Lord God:  When I shall make thee a desolate
city like the cities that are not inhabited:  and shall bring the deep
upon thee, and many waters shall cover thee:
26:20. And when I shall bring thee down with those that descend into
the pit to the everlasting people, and shall set thee in the lowest
parts of the earth, as places desolate of old, with them that are
brought down into the pit, that thou be not inhabited:  and when I shall
give glory in the land of the living,
26:21. I will bring thee to nothing, and thou shalt not be, and if thou
be sought for, thou shalt not be found any more for ever, saith the
Ezechiel Chapter 27
A description of the glory and riches of Tyre:  and of her irrecoverable
27:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
27:2. Thou therefore, O son of man, take up a lamentation for Tyre:
27:3. And say to Tyre that dwelleth at the entry of the sea, being the
mart of the people for many islands:  Thus saith the Lord God:  O Tyre,
thou hast said:  I am of perfect beauty,
27:4. And situate in the heart of the sea.  Thy neighbours, that built
thee, have perfected thy beauty:
27:5. With fir trees of Sanir they have built thee with all sea planks:
they have taken cedars from Libanus to make thee masts.
Sea planks. . .That is, timber brought by sea to build the city.
27:6. They have cut thy oars out of the oaks of Basan:  and they have
made thee benches of Indian ivory and cabins with things brought from
the islands of Italy.
27:7. Fine broidered linen from Egypt was woven for thy sail, to be
spread on thy mast:  blue and purple from the islands of Elisa, were
made thy covering.
27:8. The inhabitants of Sidon, and the Arabians were thy rowers:  thy
wise men, O Tyre, were thy pilots.
27:9. The ancients of Gebal, and the wise men thereof furnished
mariners for the service of thy various furniture:  all the ships of the
sea, and their mariners were thy factors.
27:10. The Persians, and Lydians, and the Libyans were thy soldiers in
thy army:  they hung up the buckler and the helmet in thee for thy
27:11. The men of Arad were with thy army upon thy walls round about:
the Pygmeans also that were in thy towers, hung up their quivers on thy
walls round about:  they perfected thy beauty.
Pygmeans. . .That is, strong and valiant men.  In Hebrew, Gammadim.
27:12. The Carthaginians thy merchants supplied thy fairs with a
multitude of all kinds of riches, with silver, iron, tin, and lead,
27:13. Greece, Thubal, and Mosoch, they were thy merchants, they
brought to thy people slaves and vessels of brass.
27:14. From the house of Thogorma they brought horses, and horsemen,
and mules to thy market.
27:15. The men of Dedan were thy merchants:  many islands were the
traffic of thy hand, they exchanged for thy price teeth of ivory and
27:16. The Syrian was thy merchant:  by reason of the multitude of thy
works, they set forth precious stories, and purple, and broidered
works, and fine linen, and silk, and chodchod in thy market.
Chodchod. . .It is the Hebrew name for some precious stone; but of what
kind in particular interpreters are not agreed.
27:17. Juda and the land of Israel, they were thy merchants with the
best corn:  they set forth balm, and honey, and oil and rosin in thy
27:18. The men of Damascus were thy merchants in the multitude of thy
works, the multitude of divers riches, in rich wine, in wool of the
best colour.
27:19. Dan, and Greece, and Mosel have set forth in thy marts wrought
iron:  stacte, and calamus were in thy market.
27:20. The men of Dedan were thy merchants in tapestry for seats.
27:21. Arabia, and all the princes of Cedar, they were the merchants of
thy hand:  thy merchants came to thee with lambs, and rams, and kids.
27:22. The sellers of Saba, and Reema, they were thy merchants:  with
all the best spices, and precious stones, and gold, which they set
forth in thy market.
27:23. Haran, and Chene, and Eden were thy merchants; Saba, Assur, and
Chelmad sold to thee.
27:24. They were thy merchants in divers manners, with bales of blue
cloth, and of embroidered work, and of precious riches, which were
wrapped up and bound with cords:  they had cedars also in thy
merchandise.
27:25. The ships of the sea, were thy chief in thy merchandise:  and
thou wast replenished, and glorified exceedingly in the heart of the
27:26. Thy rowers have brought thee into great waters:  the south wind
hath broken thee in the heart of the sea.
27:27. Thy riches, and thy treasures, and thy manifold furniture, thy
mariners, and thy pilots, who kept thy goods, and were chief over thy
people:  thy men of war also, that were in thee, with all thy multitude
that is in the midst of thee:  shall fall in the heart of the sea in the
day of thy ruin.
27:28. Thy fleets shall be troubled at the sound of the cry of thy
27:29. And all that handled the oar shall come down from their ships:
the mariners, and all the pilots of the sea shall stand upon the land:
27:30. And they shall mourn over thee with a loud voice and shall cry
bitterly:  and they shall cast up dust upon their heads and shall be
sprinkled with ashes.
27:31. And they shall shave themselves bald for thee, and shall be
girded with haircloth:  and they shall weep for thee with bitterness of
soul, with most bitter weeping.
27:32. And they shall take up a mournful song for thee, and shall
lament thee:  What city is like Tyre, which is become silent in the
midst of the sea?
27:33. Which by thy merchandise that went from thee by sea didst fill
many people:  which by the multitude of thy riches, and of thy people
didst enrich the kings of the earth.
27:34. Now thou art destroyed by the sea, thy riches are in the bottom
of the waters, and all the multitude that was in the midst of thee is
27:35. All the inhabitants of the islands are astonished at thee:  and
all their kings being struck with the storm have changed their
countenance.
27:36. The merchants of people have hissed at thee:  thou art brought to
nothing, and thou shalt never be any more.
Ezechiel Chapter 28
The king of Tyre, who affected to be like to God, shall fall under the
like sentence with Lucifer.  The judgment of Sidon.  The restoration of
28:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
28:2. Son of man, say to the prince of Tyre:  Thus saith the Lord God:
Because thy heart is lifted up, and thou hast said:  I am God, and I sit
in the chair of God in the heart of the sea:  whereas thou art a man,
and not God:  and hast set thy heart as if it were the heart of God.
28:3. Behold thou art wiser than Daniel:  no secret is hid from thee.
Thou art wiser than Daniel. . .Viz., in thy own conceit.  The wisdom of
Daniel was so much celebrated in his days, that it became a proverb
amongst the Chaldeans, when any one would express an extraordinary
wisdom, to say he was as wise as Daniel.
28:4. In thy wisdom and thy understanding thou hast made thyself
strong:  and hast gotten gold an silver into thy treasures.
28:5. By the greatness of thy wisdom, and by thy traffic thou hast
increased thy strength:  and thy heart is lifted up with thy strength.
28:6. Therefore, thus saith the Lord God:  Because thy heart is lifted
up as the heart of God:
28:7. Therefore behold, I will bring upon thee strangers:  the strongest
of the nations:  and they shall draw their swords against the beauty of
thy wisdom, and they shall defile thy beauty.
28:8. They shall kill thee, and bring thee down:  and thou shalt die the
death of them that are slain in the heart of the sea.
28:9. Wilt thou yet say before them that slay thee:  I am God; whereas
thou art a man, and not God, in the hand of them that slay thee?
28:10. Thou shalt die the death of the uncircumcised by the hand of
strangers:  for I have spoken it, saith the Lord God.
28:11. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:  Son of man, take up
a lamentation upon the king of Tyre:
28:12. And say to him:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Thou wast the seal of
resemblance, full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty.
Thou wast the seal of resemblance. . .The king of Tyre, by his dignity
and his natural perfections, bore in himself a certain resemblance to
God, by reason of which he might be called the seal of resemblance,
etc.  But what is here said to him is commonly understood of Lucifer,
the king over all the children of pride.
28:13. Thou wast in the pleasures of the paradise of God:  every
precious stone was thy covering:  the sardius, the topaz, and the
jasper, the chrysolite, and the onyx, and the beryl, the sapphire, and
the carbuncle, and the emerald:  gold the work of thy beauty:  and thy
pipes were prepared in the day that thou wast created.
28:14. Thou a cherub stretched out, and protecting, and I set thee in
the holy mountain of God, thou hast walked in the midst of the stones
A cherub stretched out. . .That is, thy wings extended.  This alludes to
the figure of the cherubims in the sanctuary, which with stretched out
wings covered the ark.--Ibid.  The stones of fire. . .That is, bright and
precious stones which sparkle like fire.
28:15. Thou wast perfect in thy ways from the day of thy creation,
until iniquity was found in thee.
28:16. By the multitude of thy merchandise, thy inner parts were filled
with iniquity, and thou hast sinned:  and I cast thee out from the
mountain of God, and destroyed thee, O covering cherub, out of the
midst of the stones of fire.
28:17. And thy heart was lifted up with thy beauty:  thou hast lost thy
wisdom in thy beauty, I have cast thee to the ground:  I have set thee
before the face of kings, that they might behold thee.
28:18. Thou hast defiled thy sanctuaries by the multitude of thy
iniquities, and by the iniquity of thy traffic:  therefore I will bring
forth a fire from the midst of thee, to devour thee, and I will make
thee as ashes upon the earth in the sight of all that see thee.
28:19. All that shall see thee among the nations, shall be astonished
at thee:  thou art brought to nothing, and thou shalt never be any more.
28:20. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
28:21. Son of man, set thy face against Sidon:  and thou shalt prophesy
28:22. And shalt say:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I come against
thee, Sidon, and I will be glorified in the midst of thee:  and they
shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall execute judgments in her,
and shall be sanctified in her.
28:23. And I will send into her pestilence, and blood in her streets:
and they shall fall being slain by the sword on all sides in the midst
thereof:  and they shall know that I am the Lord.
28:24. And the house of Israel shall have no more a stumblingblock of
bitterness, nor a thorn causing pain on every side round about them, of
them that are against them:  and they shall know that I am the Lord God.
28:25. Thus saith the Lord God:  When I shall have gathered together the
house of Israel out of the people among whom they are scattered:  I will
be sanctified in them before the Gentiles:  and they shall dwell in
their own land, which I gave to my servant Jacob.
28:26. And they shall dwell therein secure, and they shall build
houses, and shall plant vineyards, and shall dwell with confidence,
when I shall have executed judgments upon all that are their enemies
round about:  and they shall know that I am the Lord their God.
Ezechiel Chapter 29
The king of Egypt shall be overthrown, and his kingdom wasted:  it shall
be given to Nabuchodonosor for his service against Tyre.
29:1. In the tenth year, the tenth month, the eleventh day of the
month, the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
29:2. Son of man, set thy face against Pharao king of Egypt:  and thou
shalt prophesy of him, and of all Egypt:
29:3. Speak, and say:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I come against
thee, Pharao king of Egypt, thou great dragon that liest in the midst
of thy rivers, and sayest:  The river is mine, and I made myself.
29:4. But I will put a bridle in thy jaws:  and I will cause the fish of
thy rivers to stick to thy scales:  and I will draw thee out of the
midst of thy rivers, and all thy fish shall stick to thy scales.
29:5. And I will cast thee forth into the desert, and all the fish of
thy river:  thou shalt fall upon the face of the earth, thou shalt not
be taken up, nor gathered together:  I have given thee for meat to the
beasts of the earth, and to the fowls of the air.
29:6. And all the inhabitants of Egypt shall know that I am the Lord:
because thou hast been a staff of a reed to the house of Israel.
29:7. When they took hold of thee with the hand thou didst break, and
rent all their shoulder:  and when they leaned upon thee, thou brokest,
and weakenest all their loins.
29:8. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I will bring the sword
upon thee:  and cut off man and beast out of thee.
29:9. And the land of Egypt shall become a desert, and a wilderness:
and they shall know that I am the Lord, because thou hast said:  The
river is mine, and I made it.
29:10. Therefore, behold I come against thee, and thy rivers:  and I
will make the land of Egypt utterly desolate, and wasted by the sword,
from the tower of Syene, even to the borders of Ethiopia.
29:11. The foot of man shall not pass through it, neither shall the
foot of beasts go through it:  nor shall it be inhabited during forty
29:12. And I will make the land of Egypt desolate in the midst of the
lands that are desolate, and the cities thereof in the midst of the
cites that are destroyed, and they shall be desolate for forty years:
and I will scatter the Egyptians among the nations, and will disperse
them through the countries.
29:13. For thus saith the Lord God:  At the end of forty years I will
gather the Egyptians from the people among whom they had been
29:14. And I will bring back the captivity of Egypt, and will place
them in the land of Phatures, in the land of their nativity, and they
shall be there a low kingdom:
29:15. It shall be the lowest among other kingdoms, and it shall no
more be exalted over the nations, and I will diminish them that they
shall rule no more over the nations.
29:16. And they shall be no more a confidence to the house of Israel,
teaching iniquity, that they may flee, and follow them:  and they shall
know that I am the Lord God.
29:17. And it came to pass in the seven and twentieth year in the first
month, in the first of the month:  that the word of the Lord came to me,
29:18. Son of man, Nabuchodonosor king of Babylon hath made his army to
undergo hard service against Tyre:  every head was made bald, and every
shoulder was peeled and there hath been no reward given him, nor his
army for Tyre, for the service that he rendered me against it.
29:19. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I will set
Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon in the land of Egypt:  and he shall
take her multitude, and take the booty thereof for a prey, and rifle
the spoils thereof:  and it shall be wages for his army.
29:20. And for the service that he hath done me against it:  I have
given him the land of Egypt, because he hath laboured for me, saith the
29:21. In that day a horn shall bud forth to the house of Israel, and I
will give thee an open mouth in the midst of them:  and they shall know
that I am the Lord.
Ezechiel Chapter 30
The desolation of Egypt and her helpers:  all her cities shall be
30:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
30:2. Son of man prophesy, and say:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Howl ye,
Woe, woe to the day:
30:3. For the day is near, yea the day of the Lord is near:  a cloudy
day, it shall be the time of the nations.
30:4. And the sword shall come upon Egypt:  and there shall be dread in
Ethiopia, when the wounded shall fall in Egypt, and the multitude
thereof shall be taken away, and the foundations thereof shall be
30:5. Ethiopia, and Libya, and Lydia, and all the rest of the crowd,
and Chub, and the children of the land of the covenant, shall fall with
them by the sword.
30:6. Thus saith the Lord God:  They also that uphold Egypt shall fall,
and the pride of her empire shall be brought down:  from the tower of
Syene shall they fall in it by the sword, saith the Lord the God of
30:7. And they shall be desolate in the midst of the lands that are
desolate, and the cities thereof shall be in the midst of the cities
that are wasted.
30:8. And they shall know that I am the Lord:  when I shall have set a
fire in Egypt, and all the helpers thereof shall be destroyed.
30:9. In that day shall messengers go forth from my face in ships to
destroy the confidence of Ethiopia, and there shall be dread among them
in the day of Egypt:  because it shall certainly come.
30:10. Thus saith the Lord God:  I will make the multitude of Egypt to
cease by the hand of Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon.
30:11. He and his people with him, the strongest of nations, shall be
brought to destroy the land:  and they shall draw their swords upon
Egypt:  and shall fill the land with the slain.
30:12. And I will make the channels of the rivers dry, and will deliver
the land into the hand of the wicked:  and will lay waste the land and
all that is therein by the hands of strangers, I the Lord have spoken
30:13. Thus saith the Lord God:  I will also destroy the idols, and I
will make an end of the idols of Memphis:  and there shall:  be no more a
prince of the land of Egypt and I will cause a terror in the land of
30:14. And I will destroy the land of Phatures, and will make a fire in
Taphnis, and will execute judgments in Alexandria.
Alexandria. . .In the Hebrew, No:  which was the ancient name of that
city, which was afterwards rebuilt by Alexander the Great, and from his
name called Alexandria.
30:15. And I will pour out my indignation upon Pelusium the strength of
Egypt, and will cut off the multitude of Alexandria.
30:16. And I will make a fire in Egypt:  Pelusium shall be in pain like
a woman in labour, and Alexandria shall be laid waste, and in Memphis
there shall be daily distresses.
30:17. The young men of Heliopolis, and of Bubastus shall fall by the
sword, and they themselves shall go into captivity.
30:18. And in Taphnis the day shall be darkened, when I shall break
there the sceptres of Egypt, and the pride of her power shall cease in
her:  a cloud shall cover her, and her daughters shall be led into
30:19. And I will execute judgments in Egypt:  and they shall know that
I am the Lord.
30:20. And it came to pass in the eleventh year, in the first month, in
the seventh day of the month, that the word of the Lord came, me,
30:21. Son of man, I have broken the arm of Pharao king of Egypt:  and
behold it is not bound up, to be healed, to be tied up with clothes,
and swathed with linen, that it might recover strength, and hold the
30:22. Therefore, thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I come against
Pharao king of Egypt, and I will break into pieces his strong arm,
which is already broken:  and I will cause the sword to fall out of his
30:23. And I will disperse Egypt among the nations, and scatter them
through the countries.
30:24. And I will strengthen the arms of the king of Babylon, and will
put my sword in his hand:  and I will break the arms of Pharao, and they
shall groan bitterly being slain before his face.
30:25. And I will strengthen the arms of the king of Babylon, and the
arms of Pharao shall fall:  and they shall know that I am the Lord, when
I shall have given my sword into the hand of the king of Babylon, and
he shall have stretched it forth upon the land of Egypt.
30:26. And I will disperse Egypt among the nations, and will scatter
them through the countries, and they shall know that I am the Lord.
Ezechiel Chapter 31
The Assyrian empire fell for their pride:  the Egyptian shall fall in
like manner.
31:1. And it came to pass, in the eleventh year, the third month the
first day of the month, that the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
31:2. Son of man, speak to Pharao king of Egypt, and to his people:  To
whom art thou like in thy greatness?
31:3. Behold, the Assyrian like a cedar in Libanus, with fair branches,
and full of leaves, of a high stature, and his top was elevated among
the thick boughs.
31:4. The waters nourished him, the deep set him tip on high, the
streams thereof ran round about his roots, and it sent, forth its
rivulets to all the trees of the country.
31:5. Therefore was his height exalted above all the trees of the
country and his branches were multiplied, and his boughs were elevated
because of many waters.
31:6. And when he had spread forth his shadow, all the fowls of the air
made their nests in his boughs, and all the beasts of the forest
brought forth their young under his branches, and the assembly of many
nations dwelt under his shadow.
31:7. And he was most beautiful for his greatness, and for the
spreading of his branches:  for his root was near great waters.
31:8. The cedars in the paradise of God were not higher than he, the
fir trees did not equal his top, neither were the plane trees to be
compared with him for branches:  no tree in the paradise of God was like
him in his beauty.
31:9. For I made him beautiful and thick set with many branches:  and
all the trees of pleasure, that were in the paradise of God, envied
31:10. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  Because he was exalted in
height, and shot up his top green and thick, and his heart was lifted
up in his height:
31:11. I have delivered him into the hands of the mighty one of the
nations, he shall deal with him:  I have cast him out according to his
I have delivered. . .Here the time past is put for the future, i.  e., I
shall deliver.--Ibid.  The mighty one, etc. . .Viz., Nabuchodonosor, who
conquered both the Assyrians and Egyptians.
31:12. And strangers, and the most cruel of the nations shall cut him
down, and cast him away upon the mountains, and his boughs shall fall
in every valley, and his branches shall be broken on every rock of the
country:  and all the people of the earth shall depart from his shadow,
and leave him.
31:13. All the fowls of the air dwelt upon his ruins, and all the
beasts of the field were among his branches.
31:14. For which cause none of the trees by the waters shall exalt
themselves for their height:  nor shoot up their tops among the thick
branches and leaves, neither shall any of them that are watered stand
up in their height:  for they are all delivered unto death to the lowest
parts of the earth, in the midst of the children of men, with them that
go down into the pit.
31:15. Thus saith the Lord God:  In the day when he went down to hell, I
brought in mourning, I covered him with the deep:  and I withheld its
rivers, and restrained the many waters:  Libanus grieved for him, and
all the trees of the field trembled.
31:16. I shook the nations with the sound of his fall, when I brought
him down to hell with them that descend into the pit:  and all the trees
of pleasure, the choice and best in Libanus, all that were moistened
with waters, were comforted in the lowest parts of the earth.
31:17. For they also shall go down with him to hell to them that are
slain by the sword; and the arm of every one shall sit down under his
shadow in the midst of the nations.
31:18. To whom art thou like, O thou that art famous and lofty among
the trees of pleasure?  Behold, thou art brought down with the trees of
pleasure to the lowest parts of the earth:  thou shalt sleep in the
midst of the uncircumcised, with them that are slain by the sword:  this
is Pharao, and all his multitude, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 32
The prophet's lamentation for the king of Egypt.
32:1. And it came to pass in the twelfth year, in the twelfth month, in
the first day of the month, that the word of the Lord came to me,
32:2. Son of man, take up a lamentation for Pharao the king of Egypt,
and say to him:  Thou art like the lion of the nations, and the dragon
that is in the sea:  and thou didst push with the horn in thy rivers,
and didst trouble the waters with thy feet, and didst trample upon
their streams.
32:3. Therefore, thus saith the Lord God:  I will spread out my net over
thee with the multitude of many people, and I will draw thee up in my
32:4. And I will throw thee out on the land, I will cast thee away into
the open field and I will cause all the fowls of the air to dwell upon
thee, and I will fill the beasts of all the earth with thee.
32:5. And I will lay thy flesh upon the mountains, and will fill thy
hills with thy corruption,
32:6. And I will water the earth with thy stinking blood upon the
mountains, and the valleys shall be filled with thee.
32:7. And I will cover the heavens, when thou shalt be put out, and I
will make the stars thereof dark:  I will cover the sun with a cloud,
and the moon shall not give her light.
32:8. I will make all the lights of heaven to mourn over thee and I
will cause darkness upon thy land, saith the Lord God, when thy wounded
shall fall in the midst of the land, saith the Lord God.
32:9. And I shall provoke to anger the heart of many people, when I
shall have brought in thy destruction among the nations upon the lands,
which thou knowest not.
32:10. And I will make many people to be amazed at thee, and their
kings shall be horribly afraid for thee, when my sword shall begin to
fly upon their faces:  and they shall be astonished on a sudden, every
one for his own life, in the day of their ruin.
32:11. For thus saith the Lord God:  The sword of the king of Babylon
shall come upon thee,
32:12. By the swords of the mighty I will overthrow thy multitude:  all
these nations are invincible:  and they shall waste the pride of Egypt,
and the multitude thereof shall be destroyed.
32:13. I will destroy also all the beasts thereof that were beside the
great waters:  and the foot of man shall trouble them no more, neither
shall the hoof of beasts trouble them.
32:14. Then will I make their waters clear, and cause their rivers to
run like oil, saith the Lord God:
32:15. When I shall have made the land of Egypt desolate:  and the land
shall be destitute of her fulness, when I shall have struck all the
inhabitants thereof and they shall know that I am the Lord.
32:16. This is the lamentation, and they shall lament therewith:  the
daughters of the nations shall lament therewith for Egypt, and for the
multitude thereof they shall lament therewith, saith the Lord God.
32:17. And it came to pass in the twelfth year, in the fifteenth day of
the month, that the word of the Lord came to me saying:
32:18. Son of man, sing a mournful song for the multitude of Egypt:  and
cast her down, both her, and the daughters of the mighty nations to the
lowest part of the earth, with them that go down into the pit.
32:19. Whom dost thou excel in beauty?  go down and sleep with the
uncircumcised.
32:20. They shall fall in the midst of them that are slain with the
sword:  the sword is given, they have drawn her down, and all her
32:21. The most mighty among the strong ones shall speak to him from
the midst of hell, they that went down with his helpers and slept
uncircumcised, slain by the sword.
32:22. Assur is there, and all his multitude:  their graves are round
about him, all of them slain, and that fell by the sword.
32:23. Whose graves are set in the lowest parts of the pit:  and his
multitude lay round about his grave:  all of them slain, and fallen by
the sword, they that heretofore spread terror in the land of the
32:24. There is Elam and all his multitude round about his grave, all
of them slain, and fallen by the sword; that went down uncircumcised to
the lowest parts of the earth:  that caused their terror in the land of
the living, and they have borne their shame with them that go down into
32:25. In the midst of the slain they have set him a bed among all his
people:  their graves are round about him:  all these are uncircumcised,
and slain by the sword:  for they spread their terror in the land of the
living, and have borne their shame with them that descend into the pit:
they are laid in the midst of the slain.
32:26. There is Mosoch, and Thubal, and all their multitude:  their
graves are round about him:  all of them uncircumcised and slain, and
fallen by the sword:  though they spread their terror in the land of the
32:27. And they shall not sleep with the brave, and with them that fell
uncircumcised, that went down to hell with their weapons, and laid
their swords under their heads, and their iniquities were in their
bones, because they were the terror of the mighty in the land of the
32:28. So thou also shalt be broken in the midst of the uncircumcised,
and shalt sleep with them that are slain by the sword.
32:29. There is Edom, and her kings, and all her princes, who with
their army are joined with them that are slain by the sword:  and have
slept with the uncircumcised, and with them that go down into the pit.
32:30. There are all the princes of the north, and all the hunters:  who
were brought down with the slain, fearing, and confounded in their
strength:  who slept uncircumcised with them that are slain by the
sword, and have borne their shame with them that go down into the pit.
32:31. Pharao saw them, and he was comforted concerning all his
multitude, which was slain by the sword:  Pharao, and all his army,
saith the Lord God:
32:32. Because I have spread my terror in the land of the living, and
he hath slept in the midst of the uncircumcised with them that are
slain by the sword:  Pharao and all his multitude, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 33
The duty of the watchman appointed by God:  the justice of God's ways:
his judgments upon the Jews.
33:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
33:2. Son of man, speak to the children of thy people, and say to them:
When I bring the sword upon a land, if the people of the land take a
man, one of their meanest, and make him a watchman over them:
33:3. And he sees the sword coming upon the land, and sound the
trumpet, and tell the people:
33:4. Then he that heareth the sound of the trumpet, whosoever he be,
and doth not look to himself, if the sword come, and cut him off:  his
blood shall be upon his own head.
33:5. He heard the sound of the trumpet, and did not look to himself,
his blood shall be upon him:  but if he look to himself, he shall save
33:6. And if the watchman see the sword coming, and sound not the
trumpet:  and the people look not to themselves, and the sword come, and
cut off a soul from among them:  he indeed is taken away in his
iniquity, but I will require his blood at the hand of the watchman.
33:7. So thou, O son of man, I have made thee a watchman to the house
of Israel:  therefore thou shalt hear the word from my mouth, and shalt
tell it them from me.
33:8. When I say to the wicked:  O wicked man, thou shalt surely die:  if
thou dost not speak to warn the wicked man from his way:  that wicked
man shall die in his iniquity, but I will require his blood at thy
33:9. But if thou tell the wicked man, that he may be converted from
his ways, and he be not converted from his way he shall die in his
iniquity:  but thou hast delivered thy soul.
33:10. Thou therefore, O son of man, say to the house of Israel:  Thus
you have spoken, saying:  Our iniquities, and our sins are upon us, and
we pine away in them:  how then can we live?
33:11. Say to them:  As I live, saith the Lord God, I desire not the
death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way, and live.
Turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways:  and why will you die, O house of
33:12. Thou therefore, O son of man, say to the children of thy people:
The justice of the just shall not deliver him, in what day soever he
shall sin:  and the wickedness of the wicked shall not hurt him, in what
day soever he shall turn from his wickedness:  and the just shall not be
able to live in his justice, in what day soever he shall sin.
33:13. Yea, if I shall say to the just that he shall surely live, and
he, trusting in his justice, commit iniquity:  all his justices shall be
forgotten, and his iniquity, which he hath committed, in the same shall
33:14. And it I shall say to the wicked:  Thou shalt surely die:  and he
do penance for his sin, and do judgment and justice,
33:15. And if that wicked man restore the pledge, and render what he
had robbed, and walk in the commandments of life, and do no unjust
thing:  he shall surely live, and shall not die.
33:16. None of his sins, which he hath committed, shall be imputed to
him:  he hath done judgment and justice, he shall surely live.
33:17. And the children of thy people have said:  The way of the Lord is
not equitable:  whereas their own way is unjust.
33:18. For when the just shall depart from his justice, and commit
iniquities, he shall die in them.
33:19. And when the wicked shall depart from his wickedness, and shall
do judgments, and justice, he shall live in them.
33:20. And you say:  The way of the Lord is not right, I will judge
every one of you according to his ways, O house of Israel.
33:21. And it came to pass in the twelfth year of our captivity, in the
tenth month, in the fifth day of the month, that there came to me one
that was fled from Jerusalem, saying:  The city is laid waste.
33:22. And the hand of the Lord had been upon me in the evening, before
he that was fled came:  and he opened my mouth till he came to me in the
morning, and my mouth being opened, I was silent no more.
33:23. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
33:24. Son of man, they that dwell in these ruinous places in the land
of Israel, speak, saying:  Abraham was one, and he inherited the land,
but we are many, the land is given us in possession.
33:25. Therefore say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  You that eat
with the blood and lift up your eyes to your uncleannesses, and that
shed blood:  shall you possess the land by inheritance?
33:26. You stood on your swords, you have committed abominations, and
every one hath defiled his neighbours wife; and shall you possess the
land by inheritance?
33:27. Say thou thus to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  As I live, they
that dwell in the ruinous places, shall fall by the sword:  and he that
is in the field, shall be given to the beasts to be devoured:  and they
that are in holds, and caves, shall die of the pestilence.
33:28. And I will make the land a wilderness, and a desert, and the
proud strength thereof shall fail, and the mountains of Israel shall be
desolate, because there is none to pass by them,
33:29. And they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall have made
their land waste and desolate, for all their abominations which they
have committed.
33:30. And thou son of man:  the children of thy people, that talk of
thee by the walls, and in the doors of the houses, and speak one to
another each man to his neighbour, saying:  Come, and let us hear what
is the word that cometh forth from the Lord.
33:31. And they come to thee, as if people were coming in, and my
people sit before thee:  and hear thy words, and do them not:  for they
turn them into a song of their mouth, and their heart goeth after their
covetousness.
33:32. And thou art to them as a musical song which is sung with a
sweet and agreeable voice:  and they hear thy words, and do them not.
33:33. And when that which was foretold shall come to pass, for behold
it is coming, then shall they know that a prophet hath been among them.
Ezechiel Chapter 34
Evil pastors are reproved.  Christ the true pastor shall come, and
gather together his flock from all parts of the earth, and preserve it
34:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, it saying:
34:2. Son of man, prophesy concerning the shepherds of Israel:
prophesy, and say to the shepherds:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Woe to the
shepherds of Israel, that fed themselves:  should not the flocks be fed
by the shepherds?
Shepherds. . .That is, princes, magistrates, chief priests, and scribes.
34:3. You ate the milk, and you clothed yourselves with the wool, and
you killed that which was fat:  but my flock you did not feed.
34:4. The weak you have not strengthened, and that which was sick you
have not healed, that which was broken you have not bound up, and that
which was driven away you have not brought again, neither have you
sought that which was lost:  but you ruled over them with rigour, and
with a high hand.
34:5. And my sheep were scattered, because there was no shepherd and
they became the prey of all the beasts of the field, and were
34:6. My sheep have wandered in every mountain, and in every high hill:
and my flocks were scattered upon the face of the earth, and there was
none that sought them, there was none, I say, that sought them.
34:7. Therefore, ye shepherds, hear the word of the Lord:
34:8. As I live, saith the Lord God, forasmuch as my flocks have been
made a spoil, and my sheep are become a prey to all the beasts of the
field, because there was no shepherd:  for my shepherds did not seek
after my flock, but the shepherds fed themselves, and fed not my
34:9. Therefore, ye shepherds, hear the word of the Lord:
34:10. Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I myself come upon the
shepherds, I will require my flock at their hand, and I will cause them
to cease from feeding the flock any more, neither shall the shepherds
feed themselves any more:  and I will deliver my flock from their mouth,
and it shall no more be meat for them.
34:11. For thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I myself will seek my sheep,
and will visit them.
34:12. As the shepherd visiteth his flock in the day when he shall be
in the midst of his sheep that were scattered, so will I visit my
sheep, and will deliver them out of all the places where they have been
scattered in the cloudy and dark day.
34:13. And I will bring them out from the peoples, and will gather them
out of the countries, and will bring them to their own land:  and I will
feed them in the mountains of Israel, by the rivers, and in all the
habitations of the land.
34:14. I will feed them in the most fruitful pastures, and their
pastures shall be in the high mountains of Israel:  there shall they
rest on the green grass, and be fed in fat pastures upon the mountains
34:15. I will feed my sheep:  and I will cause them to lie down, saith
the Lord God.
34:16. I will seek that which was lost:  and that which was driven away,
I will bring again:  and I will bind up that which was broken, and I
will strengthen that which was weak, and that which was fat and strong
I will preserve, and I will feed them in judgment.
34:17. And as for you, O my flocks, thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I
judge between cattle and cattle, of rams and of he goats.
34:18. Was it not enough for you to feed upon good pastures?  but you
must also tread down with your feet the residue of your pastures:  and
when you drank the clearest water, you troubled the rest with your
34:19. And my sheep were fed with that which you had trodden with your
feet:  and they drank what your feet had troubled.
34:20. Therefore thus saith the Lord God to you:  Behold, I myself will
judge between the fat cattle and the lean.
34:21. Because you thrusted with sides and shoulders, and struck all
the weak cattle with your horns, till they were scattered abroad:
34:22. I will save my flock, and it shall be no more a spoil, and I
will judge between cattle and cattle.
34:23. And I WILL SET UP ONE SHEPHERD OVER THEM, and he shall feed
them, even my servant David:  he shall feed them, and he shall be their
David. . .Christ, who is of the house of David.
34:24. And I the Lord will be their God:  and my servant David the
prince in the midst of them:  I the Lord have spoken it.
34:25. And I will make a covenant of peace with them, and will cause
the evil beasts to cease out of the land:  and they that dwell in the
wilderness shall sleep secure in the forests.
34:26. And I will make them a blessing round about my hill:  and I will
send down the rain in its season, there shall be showers of blessing.
34:27. And the tree of the field shall yield its fruit, and the earth
shall yield her increase, and they shall be in their land without fear:
and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall have broken the
bonds of their yoke, and shall have delivered them out of the hand of
those that rule over them.
34:28. And they shall be no more for a spoil to the nations, neither
shall the beasts of the earth devour them:  but they shall dwell
securely without, any terror.
34:29. And I will raise up for them a bud of renown:  and they shall be
no more consumed with famine in the land, neither shall they bear any
more the reproach of the Gentiles.
A bud of renown. . .Germen nominatum.  He speaks of Christ our Lord, the
illustrious bud of the house of David, renowned over all the earth.  See
34:30. And they shall know that I the Lord their God am with them, and
that they are my people the house of Israel:  saith the Lord God.
34:31. And you my flocks, the flocks of my pasture are men:  and I am
the Lord your God, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 35
The judgment of mount Seir, for their hatred of Israel.
35:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
35:2. Son of man, set thy face against mount Seir, and prophesy
concerning it, and say to it:
35:3. Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold I come against thee, mount Seir,
and I will stretch forth my hand upon thee, and I will make thee
desolate and waste.
35:4. I will destroy thy cities, and thou shalt be desolate:  and thou
shalt know that I am the Lord.
35:5. Because thou hast been an everlasting enemy, and hast shut up the
children of Israel in the hands of the sword in the time of their
affliction, in the time of their last iniquity.
35:6. Therefore as I live, saith the Lord God, I will deliver thee up
to blood, and blood shall pursue thee:  and whereas thou hast hated
blood, blood shall pursue thee.
35:7. And I will make mount Seir waste and desolate:  and I will take
away from it him that goeth and him that returneth.
35:8. And I will fill his mountains with his men that are slain:  in thy
hills, and in thy valleys, and in thy torrents they shall fall that are
slain with the sword.
35:9. I will make thee everlasting desolations, and thy cities shall
not be inhabited:  and thou shalt know that I am the Lord God.
35:10. Because thou hast said:  The two nations, and the two lands shall
be mine, and I will possess them by inheritance:  whereas the Lord was
35:11. Therefore as I live, saith the Lord God, I will do according to
thy wrath, and according to thy envy, which thou hast exercised in
hatred to them:  and I will be made known by them, when I shall have
judged thee.
35:12. And thou shalt know that I the Lord have heard all thy
reproaches, that thou hast spoken against the mountains of Israel,
saying.  They are desolate, they are given to us to consume.
35:13. And you rose up against me with your mouth, and have derogated
from me by your words:  I have heard them.
35:14. Thus saith the Lord God:  When the whole earth shall rejoice, I
will make thee a wilderness.
35:15. As thou hast rejoiced over the inheritance of the house of
Israel, because it was laid waste, so will I do to thee:  thou shalt be
laid waste, O mount Seir, and all Idumea:  and they shall know that I am
Ezechiel Chapter 36
The restoration of Israel, not for their merits, but by God's special
grace.  Christ's baptism.
36:1. And thou son of man, prophesy to the mountains of Israel, and
say:  Ye mountains of Israel, hear the word of the Lord:
36:2. Thus saith the Lord God:  Because the enemy hath said to you:  Aha,
the everlasting heights are given to us for an inheritance.
36:3. Therefore prophesy, and say:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Because you
have been desolate, and trodden under foot on every side, and made an
inheritance to the rest of the nations, and are become the subject of
the talk, and the reproach of the people:
36:4. Therefore, ye mountains of Israel, hear the word of the Lord God:
Thus saith the Lord God to the mountains, and to the hills, to the
brooks, and to the valleys, and to desolate places, and ruinous walls,
and to the cities that are forsaken, that are spoiled, and derided by
the rest of the nations round about.
36:5. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  In the fire of my zeal I have
spoken of the rest of the nations, and of all Edom, who have taken my
land to themselves, for an inheritance with joy, and with all the
heart, and with the mind:  and have cast it out to lay it waste.
36:6. Prophesy therefore concerning the land of Israel, and say to the
mountains, and to the hills, to the ridges, and to the valleys:  Thus
saith the Lord God:  Behold I have spoken in my zeal, and in my
indignation, because you have borne the shame of the Gentiles.
36:7. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  I have lifted up my hand, that
the Gentiles who are round about you, shall themselves bear their
36:8. But as for you, O mountains of Israel, shoot ye forth your
branches, and yield your fruit to my people of Israel:  for they are at
hand to come.
36:9. For I, I am for you, and I will turn to you, and you shall be
ploughed and sown.
36:10. And I will multiply men upon you, and all the house of Israel:
and the cities ball be inhabited, and the ruinous places shall be
36:11. And I will make you abound with men and with beasts:  and they
shall be multiplied, and increased:  and I will settle you as from the
beginning, and will give you greater gifts, than you had from the
beginning:  and you shall know that I am the Lord.
36:12. And I will bring men upon you, my people Israel, and they shall
possess thee for their inheritance:  and thou shalt be their
inheritance, and shalt no more henceforth be without them.
36:13. Thus saith the Lord God:  Because thy say of you:  Thou art a
devourer of men, and one that suffocatest thy nation:
36:14. Therefore thou shalt devour men no more nor destroy thy nation
any more, saith the Lord God.
36:15. Neither will I cause men to hear in thee the shame of the
nations any more, nor shalt thou bear the reproach of the people, nor
lose thy nation any more, saith the Lord God.
Nor lose thy nation any more. . .This whole promise principally relates
to the church of Christ, and God's perpetual protection of her:  for as
the carnal Jews, they have been removed out of their land these sixteen
hundred years.
36:16. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
36:17. Son of man, when the house of Israel dwelt in their own land,
they defiled it with their ways, and with their doings:  their way was
before me like the uncleanness of a menstruous woman.
36:18. And I poured out my indignation upon them for the blood which
they had shed upon the land, and with their idols they defiled it.
36:19. And I scattered them among the nations, and they are dispersed
through the countries:  I have judged them according to their ways, and
their devices.
36:20. And when they entered among the nations whither they went, they
profaned my holy name, when it was said of them:  This is the people of
the Lord, and they are come forth out of his land.
36:21. And I have regarded my own holy name, which the house of Israel
hath profaned among the nations to which they went in.
36:22. Therefore thou shalt say to the house of Israel:  Thus saith the
Lord God:  It is not for your sake that I will do this, O house of
Israel, but for my holy name's sake, which you have profaned among the
nations whither you went.
36:23. And I will sanctify my great name, which was profaned among the
Gentiles, which you have profaned in the midst of them:  that the
Gentiles may know that I am the Lord, saith the Lord of hosts, when I
shall be sanctified in you before their eyes.
36:24. For I will take you from among the Gentiles, and will gather you
together out of all the countries, and will bring you into your own
36:25. And I will pour upon you clean water, and you shall be cleansed
from all your filthiness, and I will cleanse you from all your idols.
36:26. And I will give you a new heart, and put a new spirit within
you:  and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and will
give you a heart of flesh.
36:27. And I will put my spirit in the midst of you:  and I will cause
you to walk in my commandments, and to keep my judgments, and do them.
36:28. And you shall dwell in the land which I gave to your fathers,
and you shall be my people, and I will be your God.
36:29. And I will save you from all your uncleannesses:  and I will call
for corn, and will multiply it, and will lay no famine upon you.
36:30. And I will multiply the fruit of the tree, and the increase of
the field, that you bear no more the reproach of famine among the
36:31. And you shall remember your wicked ways, and your doings that
were not good:  and your iniquities, and your wicked deeds shall
displease you.
36:32. It is not for your sakes that I will do this, saith the Lord
God, be it known to you:  be confounded, and ashamed at your own ways, O
house of Israel.
36:33. Thus saith the Lord God:  In the day that I shall cleanse you
from all your iniquities, and shall cause the cities to be inhabited,
and shall repair the ruinous places,
36:34. And the desolate land shall be tilled, which before was waste in
the sight of all that passed by,
36:35. They shall say:  This land that was untilled is become as a
garden of pleasure:  and the cities that were abandoned, and desolate,
and destroyed, are peopled and fenced.
36:36. And the nations, that shall be left round about you, shall know
that I the Lord have built up what was destroyed, and planted what was
desolate, that I the Lord have spoken and done it.
36:37. Thus saith the Lord God:  Moreover in this shall the house of
Israel find me, that I will do it for them:  I will multiply them as a
flock of men,
36:38. As a holy flock, as the flock of Jerusalem in her solemn feasts:
so shall the waste cities be full of flocks of men:  and they shall know
that I am the Lord.
Ezechiel Chapter 37
A vision of the resurrection of dry bones, foreshewing the deliverance
of the people from their captivity.  Juda and Israel shall be all one
kingdom under Christ.  God's everlasting covenant with the church.
37:1. The hand of the Lord was upon me, and brought me forth in the
spirit of the Lord:  and set me down in the midst of a plain that was
full of bones.
37:2. And he led me about through them on every side:  now they were
very many upon the face of the plain, and they were exceeding dry.
37:3. And he said to me:  Son of man, dost thou think these bones shall
live and I answered:  O Lord God, thou knowest.
37:4. And he said to me:  Prophesy concerning these bones; and say to
them:  Ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.
37:5. Thus saith the Lord God to these bones:  Behold, I will send
spirit into you, and you shall live.
Spirit. . .That is, soul, life, and breath.
37:6. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to grow over
you, and will cover you with skin:  and I will give you spirit and you
shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.
37:7. And I prophesied as he had commanded me:  and as I prophesied
there was a noise, and behold a commotion:  and the bones came together,
each one, its joint.
37:8. And I saw, and behold the sinews, and the flesh came up upon
them:  and the skin was stretched out over them, but there was no spirit
37:9. And he said to me:  Prophesy to the spirit, prophesy, O son of
man, and say to the spirit:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Come, spirit, from
the four winds, and blow upon these slain, and let them live again.
37:10. And I prophesied as he had commanded me:  and the spirit came
into them, and they lived:  and they stood up upon their feet, an
exceeding great army.
37:11. And he said to me:  Son of man:  All these bones are the house of
Israel:  they say:  Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost, and we
are cut off.
37:12. Therefore prophesy, and say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:
Behold I will open your graves, and will bring you out of your
sepulchres, O my people:  and will bring you into the land of Israel.
37:13. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall have opened
your sepulchres, and shall have brought you out of your graves, O my
37:14. And shall have put my spirit in you, and you shall live, and I
shall make you rest upon your own land:  and you shall know that I the
Lord have spoken, and done it, saith the Lord God:
37:15. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
37:16. And thou son of man, take thee a stick:  and write upon it:  Of
Juda, and of the children of Israel his associates:  and take another
stick and write upon it:  For Joseph the stick of Ephraim, and for all
the house of Israel, and of his associates.
37:17. And join them one to the other into one stick, and they shall
become one in thy hand.
37:18. And when the children of thy people shall speak to thee, saying:
Wilt thou not tell us what thou meanest by this?
37:19. Say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I will take the
stick of Joseph, which is in the hand of Ephraim, and the tribes of
Israel that are associated with him, and I will put them together with
the stick of Juda, and will make them one stick:  and they shall be one
in his hand.
37:20. And the sticks whereon thou hast written, shall be in thy hand,
before their eyes.
37:21. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I
will take of the children of Israel from the midst of the nations
whither they are gone:  and I will gather them on every side, and will
bring them to their own land.
37:22. And I will make them one nation in the land on the mountains of
Israel, and one king shall be king over them all:  and they shall no
more be two nations, neither shall they be divided any more into two
37:23. Nor shall they be defiled any more with their idols, nor with
their abominations, nor with all their iniquities:  and I will save them
out of all the places in which they have sinned, and I will cleanse
them:  and they shall be my people, and I will be their God.
37:24. And my servant David shall be king over them, and they shall
have one shepherd:  they shall walk in my judgments, and shall keep my
commandments, and shall do them.
37:25. And they shall dwell in the land which I gave to my servant
Jacob, wherein your fathers dwelt, and they shall dwell in it, they and
their children, and their children's children, for ever:  and David my
servant shall be their prince for ever.
37:26. And I will make a covenant of peace with them, it shall be an
everlasting covenant with them:  and I will establish them, and will
multiply them, and will set my sanctuary in the midst of them for ever.
37:27. And my tabernacle shall be with them:  and I will be their God,
and they shall be my people.
37:28. And the nations shall know that I am the Lord the sanctifier of
Israel, when my sanctuary shall be in the midst of them for ever.
Ezechiel Chapter 38
Gog shall persecute the church in the latter days.  He shall be
38:1. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
38:2. Son of man, set thy face against Gog, the land of Magog, the
chief prince of Mosoch and Thubal:  and prophesy of him,
Gog. . .This name, which signifies hidden or covered, is taken in this
place, either for the persecutors of the church of God in general, or
some arch-persecutor in particular:  such as Antichrist shall be in the
latter days.  See Apoc. 20.8.  And what is said of the punishment of Gog,
is verified by the unhappy ends of persecutors.--Ibid.  Magog. . .Scythia
or Tartary, from whence the Turks, and other enemies of the church of
Christ, originally sprung.
38:3. And say to him:  Thus saith the Lord God:  Behold, I come against
thee, O Gog, the chief prince of Mosoch and Thubal.
38:4. And I will turn thee about, and I will put a bit in thy jaws:  and
I will bring thee forth, and all thy army, horses and horsemen all
clothed with coats of mail, a great multitude, armed with spears and
shields and swords.
38:5. The Persians, Ethiopians, and Libyans with them, all with shields
and helmets.
38:6. Gomer, and all his bands, the house of Thogorma, the northern
parts and all his strength, and many peoples with thee.
38:7. Prepare and make thyself ready, and all thy multitude that is
assembled about thee, and be thou commander over them.
38:8. After many days thou shalt be visited:  at the end of years thou
shalt come to the land that is returned from the sword, and is gathered
out of many nations, to the mountains of Israel which have been
continually waste:  but it hath been brought forth out of the nations,
and they shall all of them dwell securely in it.
38:9. And thou shalt go up and come like a storm, and like a cloud to
cover the land, thou and all thy bands and many people with thee.
38:10. Thus saith the Lord God:  In that day projects shall enter into
thy heart, and thou shalt conceive a mischievous design.
38:11. And thou shalt say:  I will go up to the land which is without a
wall, I will come to them that are at rest, and dwell securely:  all
these dwell without a wall, they have no bars nor gates:
38:12. To take spoils, and lay hold on the prey, to lay thy hand upon
them that had been wasted, and afterwards restored, and upon the people
that is gathered together out of the nations, which hath begun to
possess and to dwell in the midst of the earth.
38:13. Saba, and Dedan, and the merchants of Tharsis, and all the lions
thereof shall say to thee:  Art thou come to take spoils?  behold, thou
hast gathered thy multitude to take a prey, to take silver, and gold,
and to carry away goods and substance, and to take rich spoils.
38:14. Therefore, thou son of man, prophesy and say to Gog:  Thus saith
the Lord God:  Shalt thou not know, in that day, when my people of
Israel shall dwell securely?
38:15. And thou shalt come out of thy place from the northern parts,
thou and many people with thee, all of them riding upon horses, a great
company and a mighty army.
38:16. And thou shalt come upon my people of Israel like a cloud, to
cover the earth.  Thou shalt be in the latter days, and I will bring
thee upon my land:  that the nations may know me, when I shall be
sanctified in thee, O Gog, before their eyes.
38:17. Thus saith the Lord God:  Thou then art he, of whom I have spoken
in the days of old, by my servants the prophets of Israel, who
prophesied in the days of those times that I would bring thee upon
38:18. And it shall come to pass in that day, in the day of the coming
of Gog upon the land of Israel, saith the Lord God, that my indignation
shall come up in my wrath.
38:19. And I have spoken in my zeal, and in the fire of my anger, that
in that day there shall be a great commotion upon the land of Israel:
38:20. So that the fishes of the sea, and the birds of the air, and the
beasts of the field, and every creeping thing that creepeth upon the
ground, and all men that are upon the face of the earth, shall be moved
at my presence:  and the mountains shall be thrown down, and the hedges
shall fall, and every wall shall fall to the ground.
38:21. And I will call in the sword against him in all my mountains,
saith the Lord God:  every man's sword shall be pointed against his
38:22. And I will judge him with pestilence, and with blood, and with
violent rain, and vast hailstones:  I will rain fire and brimstone upon
him, and upon his army, and upon the many nations that are with him.
38:23. And I will be magnified, and I will be sanctified:  and I will be
known in the eyes of many nations and they shall know that I am the
Ezechiel Chapter 39
God's judgments upon Gog.  God's people were punished for their sins:
but shall be favoured with everlasting kindness.
39:1. And thou, son of man, prophesy against Gog, and say:  Thus saith
the Lord God:  Behold, I come against thee, O Gog, the chief prince of
Mosoch and Thubal.
39:2. And I will turn thee round, and I will lead thee out, and will
make thee go up from the northern parts:  and will bring thee upon the
mountains of Israel.
39:3. And I will break thy bow in thy left hand, and I will cause thy
arrows to fall out of thy right hand.
39:4. Thou shalt fall upon the mountains of Israel, thou and all thy
bands, and thy nations that are with thee:  I have given thee to the
wild beasts, to the birds, and to every fowl, and to the beasts of the
earth to be devoured.
39:5. Thou shalt fall upon the face of the field:  for I have spoken it,
saith the Lord God.
39:6. And I will send a fire on Magog, and on them that dwell
confidently in the islands:  and they shall know that I am the Lord.
39:7. And I will make my holy name known in the midst of my people
Israel, and my holy name shall be profaned no more:  and the Gentiles
shall know that I am the Lord, the Holy One of Israel.
39:8. Behold it cometh, and it is done, saith the Lord God:  this is the
day whereof I have spoken.
39:9. And the inhabitants shall go forth of the cities of Israel, and
shall set on fire and burn the weapons, the shields, and the spears,
the bows and the arrows, and the handstaves and the pikes:  and they
shall burn them with fire seven years.
39:10. And they shall not bring wood out of the countries, nor cut down
out of the forests:  for they shall burn the weapons with fire, and
shall make a prey of them to whom they had been a prey, and they shall
rob those that robbed them, saith the Lord God.
39:11. And it shall come to pass in that day, that I will give Gog a
noted place for a sepulchre in Israel:  the valley of the passengers on
the east of the sea, which shall cause astonishment in them that pass
by:  and there shall they bury Gog, and all his multitude, and it shall
be called the valley of the multitude of Gog.
39:12. And the house of Israel shall bury them for seven months to
cleanse the land.
39:13. And all the people of the land shall bury him, and it shall be
unto them a noted day, wherein I was glorified, saith the Lord God.
39:14. And they shall appoint men to go continually about the land, to
bury and to seek out them that were remaining upon the face of the
earth, that they may cleanse it:  and after seven months they shall
begin to seek.
39:15. And they shall go about passing through the land:  and when they
shall see the bone of a man, they shall set up sign by it, till the
buriers bury it in the valley, of the multitude of Gog.
39:16. And the name of the city shall be Amona, and they shall cleanse
39:17. And thou, O son of man, saith the Lord God, say to every fowl,
and to all the birds, and to all the beasts of the field:  Assemble
yourselves, make haste, come together from every side to my victim,
which I slay for you, a great victim upon the mountains of Israel:  to
eat flesh, and drink blood.
39:18. You shall eat the flesh of the mighty, and you shall drink the
blood of the princes of the earth, of rams, and of lambs, and of he
goats, and bullocks, and of all that are well fed and fat.
39:19. And you shall eat the fat till you be full, and shall drink
blood till you be drunk of the victim which I shall slay for you.
39:20. And you shall be filled at my table with horses, and mighty
horsemen, and all the men of war, saith the Lord God.
39:21. And I will set my glory among the nations:  and all nations shall
see my judgment that I have executed, and my hand that I have laid upon
39:22. And the house of Israel shall know that I am the Lord their God
from that day and forward.
39:23. And the nations shall know that the house of Israel were made
captives for their iniquity, because they forsook me, and I hid my face
from them:  and I delivered them into the hands of their enemies, and
they fell all by the sword.
39:24. I have dealt with them according to their uncleanness, and
wickedness, and hid my face from them.
39:25. Therefore, thus saith the Lord God:  Now will I bring back the
captivity of Jacob, and will have mercy on all the house of Israel and
I will be jealous for my holy name.
39:26. And they shall bear their confusion, and all the transgressions
wherewith they have transgressed against me, when they shall dwell in
their land securely fearing no man:
39:27. And I shall have brought them back from among the nations, and
shall have gathered them together out of the lands of their enemies,
and shall be sanctified in them, in the sight of many nations.
39:28. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God, because I
caused them to be carried away among the nations; and I have gathered
them together unto their own land, and have not left any of them there.
39:29. And I will hide my face no more from them, for I have poured out
my spirit upon all the house of Israel, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 40
The prophet sees in a vision the rebuilding of the temple:  the
dimensions of several parts thereof.
40:1. In the five and twentieth year of our captivity, in the beginning
of the year, the tenth day of the month, the fourteenth year after the
city was destroyed:  in the selfsame day the hand of the Lord was upon
me, and he brought me thither.
40:2. In the visions of God he brought me into the land of Israel, and
set me upon a very high mountain:  upon which there was as the building
of a city, bending towards the south.
40:3. And he brought me in thither, and behold a man, whose appearance
was like the appearance of brass, with a line of flax in his hand, and
a measuring reed in his hand, and he stood in the gate.
40:4. And this man said to me:  Son of man, see with thy eyes, and hear
with thy ears, and set thy heart upon all that I shall shew thee:  for
thou art brought hither that they may be shewn to thee:  declare all
that thou seest, to the house of Israel.
40:5. And behold there was a wall on the outside of the house round
about, and in the man's hand a measuring reed of six cubits and a
handbreadth:  and he measured the breadth of the building one reed, and
the height one reed.
40:6. And he came to the gate that looked toward the east, and he went
up the steps thereof:  and he measured the breadth of the threshold of
the gate one reed, that is, one threshold was one reed broad;
40:7. And every little chamber was one reed long, and one reed broad:
and between the little chambers were five cubits:
40:8. And the threshold of the gate by the porch of the gate within,
was one reed.
40:9. And he measured the porch of the gate eight cubits, and the front
thereof two cubits:  and the porch of the gate was inward.
40:10. And the little chambers of the gate that looked eastward were
three on this side, and three on that side:  all three were of one
measure, and the fronts of one measure, on both parts.
40:11. And he measured the breadth of the threshold of the gate ten
cubits:  and the length of the gate thirteen cubits:
40:12. And the border before the little chambers one cubit:  and one
cubit was the border on both sides:  and the little chambers were six
cubits on this side and that side.
40:13. And he measured the gate from the roof of one little chamber to
the roof of another, in breadth five and twenty cubits:  door against
40:14. He made also fronts of sixty cubits:  and to the front the court
of the gate on every side round about.
40:15. And before the face of the gate which reached even to the face
of the porch of the inner gate, fifty cubits.
40:16. And slanting windows in the little chambers, and in their
fronts, which were within the gate on every side round about:  and in
like manner there were also in the porches windows round about within,
and before the fronts the representation of palm trees.
40:17. And he brought me into the outward court, and behold there were
chambers, and a pavement of stone in the court round about:  thirty
chambers encompassed the pavement.
There were chambers. . .Gazophylacia, so called, because the priests and
Levites kept in them the stores and vessels that belonged to the
40:18. And the pavement in the front of the gates according to the
length of the gates was lower.
40:19. And he measured the breadth from the face of the lower gate to
the front of the inner court without, a hundred cubits to the east, and
to the north.
40:20. He measured also both the length and the breadth of the gate of
the outward court, which looked northward.
40:21. And the little chambers thereof three on this side, and three on
that side:  and the front thereof, and the porch thereof according to
the measure of the former gate, fifty cubits long, and five and twenty
cubits broad.
40:22. And the windows thereof, and the porch, and the gravings
according to the measure of the gate that looked to the east, and they
went up to it by seven steps, and a porch was before it.
40:23. And the gate of the inner court was over against the gate of the
north, and that of the east:  and he measured from gate to gate a
hundred cubits.
40:24. And he brought me out to the way of the south, and behold the
gate that looked to the south:  and he measured the front thereof, and
the porch thereof according to the former measures.
40:25. And the windows thereof, and the porches round about, as the
other windows:  the length was fifty cubits, and the breadth five and
twenty cubits.
40:26. And there were seven steps to go up to it:  and a porch before
the doors thereof:  and there were graven palm trees, one on this side,
and another on that side in the front thereof.
40:27. And there was a gate of the inner court towards the south:  and
he measured from gate to gate towards the south, a hundred cubits.
40:28. And he brought me into the inner court at the south gate:  and he
measured the gate according to the former measures.
40:29. The little chamber thereof, and the front thereof, and the porch
thereof with the same measures:  and the windows thereof, and the porch
thereof round about it was fifty cubits in length, and five and twenty
cubits in breadth.
40:30. And the porch round about was five and twenty cubits long, and
five cubits broad.
40:31. And the porch thereof to the outward court, and the palm trees
thereof in the front:  and there were eight steps to go up to it.
40:32. And he brought me into the inner court by the way of the east:
and he measured the gate according to the former measures.
40:33. The little chamber thereof, and the front thereof, and the porch
thereof as before:  and the windows thereof, and the porches thereof
round about it was fifty cubits long, and five and twenty cubits broad.
40:34. And the porch thereof, that is, of the outward court:  and the
graven palm trees in the front thereof on this side and on that side:
and the going up thereof was by eight steps.
40:35. And he brought me into the gate that looked to the north:  and he
measured according to the former measures.
40:36. The little chamber thereof, and the front thereof, and the porch
thereof, and the windows thereof round about it was fifty cubits long,
and five and twenty cubits broad.
40:37. And the porch thereof looked to the outward court:  and the
graving of palm trees in the front thereof was on this side and on that
side:  and the going up to it was by eight steps.
40:38. And at every chamber was a door in the forefronts of the gates:
there they washed the holocaust.
40:39. And in the porch of the gate were two tables on this side, and
two tables on that side:  that the holocaust, and the sin offering, and
the trespass offering might be slain thereon.
40:40. And on the outward side, which goeth up to the entry of the gate
that looketh toward the north, were two tables:  and at the other side
before the porch of the gate were two tables,
40:41. Four tables were on this side, and four tables on that side at
the sides of the gate were eight tables, upon which they slew the
40:42. And the four tables for the holocausts were made of square
stones:  one cubit and a half long, and one cubit and a half broad, and
one cubit high:  to lay the vessels upon, in which the holocaust and the
victim is slain.
40:43. And the borders of them were of one handbreadth, turned inwards
round about:  and upon the tables was the flesh of the offering.
40:44. And without the inner gate were the chambers of the singing men
in the inner court, which was on the side of the gate that looketh to
the north:  and their prospect was towards the south, one at the side of
the east gate, which looketh toward the north.
40:45. And he said to me:  This chamber, which looketh toward the south
shall be for the priests that watch in the wards of the temple.
40:46. But the chamber that looketh towards the north shall be for the
priests that watch over the ministry of the altar.  These are the sons
of Sadoc, who among the sons of Levi, come near to the Lord, to
minister to him.
40:47. And he measured the court a hundred cubits long, and a hundred
cubits broad foursquare:  and the altar that was before the face of the
40:48. And he brought me into the porch of the temple:  and he measured
the porch five cubits on this side, and five cubits on that side:  and
the breadth of the gate three cubits on this side, and three cubits on
40:49. And the length of the porch was twenty cubits, and the breadth
eleven cubits, and there were eight steps to go up to it.  And there
were pillars in the fronts:  one on this side, and another on that side.
Ezechiel Chapter 41
A description of the temple, and of all the parts of it.
41:1. And he brought me into the temple, and he measured the fronts six
cubits broad on this side, and six cubits on that side, the breadth of
the tabernacle.
The temple. . .This plan of a temple, which was here shewn to the
prophet in a vision, partly had relation to the material temple, which
was to be rebuilt:  and partly, in a mystical sense, to the spiritual
temple of God, the church of Christ.
41:2. And the breadth of the gate was ten cubits:  and the sides of the
gate five cubits on this side, and five cubits on that side:  and he
measured the length thereof forty cubits, and the breadth twenty
41:3. Then going inward he measured the front of the gate two cubits:
and the gate six cubits, and the breadth of the gate seven cubits.
41:4. And he measured the length thereof twenty cubits, and the breadth
twenty cubits, before the face of the temple:  and he said to me:  This
is the holy of holies.
41:5. And he measured the wall of the house six cubits:  and the breadth
of every side chamber four cubits round about the house on every side.
41:6. And the side chambers one by another, were twice thirty-three:
and they bore outwards, that they might enter in through the wall of
the house in the sides round about, to hold in, and not to touch the
wall of the temple.
One by another. . .Or one over another; literally, side to side, or side
41:7. And there was a broad passage round about, going up by winding
stairs, and it led into the upper loft of the temple all round:
therefore was the temple broader in the higher parts:  and so from the
lower parts they went to the higher by the midst.
41:8. And I saw in the house the height round about, the foundations of
the side chambers which were the measure of a reed the space of six
41:9. And the thickness of the wall for the side chamber without, which
was five cubits:  and the inner house was within the side chambers of
And the inner house was within the side chambers of the
house. . .Because these side chambers were in the very walls of the
temple all round.  Or, it may also be rendered (more agreeably to the
Hebrew) so as to signify that the thickness of the wall for the side
chamber within, was the same as that of the wall without; that is,
equally five cubits.
41:10. And between the chambers was the breadth of twenty cubits round
about the house on every side.
41:11. And the door of the side chambers was turned towards the place
of prayer:  one door was toward the north, and another door was toward
the south:  and the breadth of the place for prayer, was five cubits
round about.
41:12. And the building that was separate, and turned to the way that
looked toward the sea, was seventy cubits broad and the wall of the
building, five cubits thick round about:  and ninety cubits long.
41:13. And he measured the length of the house, a hundred cubits:  and
the separate building, and the walls thereof, a hundred cubits in
41:14. And the breadth before the face of the house, and of the
separate place toward the east, a hundred cubits.
41:15. And he measured the length of the building over against it,
which was separated at the back of it:  and the galleries on both sides
a hundred cubits:  and the inner temple, and the porches of the court.
41:16. The thresholds, and the oblique windows, and the galleries round
about on three sides, over against the threshold of every one, and
floored with wood all round about:  and the ground was up to the
windows, and the windows were shut over the doors.
41:17. And even to the inner house, and without all the wall round
about within and without, by measure.
41:18. And there were cherubims and palm trees wrought, so that a palm
tree was between a cherub and a cherub, and every cherub had two faces.
41:19. The face of a man was toward the palm tree on one side, and the
face of a lion was toward the palm tree on the other side:  set forth
through all the house round about.
41:20. From the ground even to the upper parts of the gate, were
cherubims and palm trees wrought in the wall of the temple.
41:21. The threshold was foursquare, and the face of the sanctuary
sight to sight.
The threshold was foursquare. . .That is, the gate of the temple was
foursquare:  and so placed as to answer the gate of the sanctuary
41:22. The altar of wood was three cubits high:  and the length thereof
was two cubits:  and the corners thereof, aid the length thereof, and
the walls thereof, were of wood.  And he said to me:  This is the table
before the Lord.
41:23. And there were two doors in the temple, and in the sanctuary.
41:24. And in the two doors on both sides were two little doors, which
were folded within each other:  for there were two wickets on both sides
of the doors.
41:25. And there were cherubims also wrought in the doors of the
temple, and the figures of palm trees, like as were made on the walls:
for which cause also the planks were thicker in the front of the porch
41:26. Upon which were the oblique windows, and the representation of
palm trees on this side, and on that side in the sides of the porch,
according to the sides of the house, and the breadth of the walls.
Ezechiel Chapter 42
A description of the courts, chambers, and other places belonging to
42:1. And he brought me forth into the outward court by the way that
leadeth to the north, and he brought me into the chamber that was over
against the separate building, and over against the house toward the
42:2. In the face of the north door was the length of hundred cubits,
and the breadth of fifty cubits.
42:3. Over against the twenty cubits of the inner court, and over
against the pavement of the outward court that was paved with stone,
where there was a gallery joined to a triple gallery.
42:4. And before the chambers was a walk ten cubits broad, looking to
the inner parts of a way of one cubit.  And their doors were toward the
42:5. Where were the store chambers lower above:  because they bore up
the galleries, which appeared above out of them from he lower parts,
and from the midst of the building.
42:6. For they were of three stories, and had not pillars, as the
pillars of the courts:  therefore did they appear above out of the lower
places, and out of the middle places, fifty cubits from the ground.
42:7. And the outward wall that went about by the chambers, which were
towards the outward court on the forepart of the chambers, was fifty
cubits long.
42:8. For the length of the chambers of the outward court was fifty
cubits:  and the length before the face of the temple, a hundred cubits.
42:9. And there was under these chambers, an entrance from the east,
for them that went into them out of the outward court.
42:10. In the breadth of the outward wall of the court that was toward
the east, over against the separate building, and there were chambers
before the building.
42:11. And the way before them was like the chambers which were toward
the north:  they were as long as they, and as broad as they:  and all the
going in to them, and their fashions, and their doors were alike.
42:12. According to the doors of the chambers that were towards the
south:  there was a door in the head of the way, which way was before
the porch, separated towards the east as one entereth in.
42:13. And he said to me:  The chambers of the north, and the chambers
of the south, which are before the separate building:  they are holy
chambers, in which the priests shall eat, that approach to the Lord
into the holy of holies:  there they shall lay the most holy things, and
the offering for sin, and for trespass:  for it is a holy place.
42:14. And when the priests shall have entered in, they shall not go
out of the holy places into the outward court:  but there they shall lay
their vestments, wherein they minister, for they are holy:  and they
shall put on other garments, and so they shall go forth to the people.
42:15. Now when he had made an end of measuring the inner house, he
brought me out by the way of the gate that looked toward the east:  and
he measured it on every side round about.
42:16. And he measured toward the east with the measuring reed, five
hundred reeds with the measuring reed round about.
42:17. And he measured toward the north five hundred reeds with the
measuring reed round about.
42:18. And towards the south he measured five hundred reeds with the
measuring reed round about.
42:19. And toward the west he measured five hundred reeds, with the
measuring reed.
42:20. By the four winds he measured the wall thereof on every side
round about, five hundred cubits and five hundred cubits broad, making
a separation between the sanctuary and the place of the people.
Ezechiel Chapter 43
The glory of God returns to the new temple.  The Israelites shall no
more profane God's name by idolatry:  the prophet is commanded to shew
them the dimensions, and form of the temple, and of the altar, with the
sacrifices to be offered thereon.
43:1. And he brought me to the gate that looked towards the east.
43:2. And behold the glory of the God of Israel came in by the way of
the east:  and his voice was like the noise of many waters, and the
earth shone with his majesty.
43:3. And I saw the vision according to the appearance which I had seen
when he came to destroy the city:  and the appearance was according to
the vision which I had seen by the river Chobar:  and I fell upon my
43:4. And the majesty of the Lord went into the temple by the way of
the gate that looked to the east.
43:5. And the spirit lifted me up and brought me into the inner court:
and behold the house was filled with the glory of the Lord.
43:6. And I heard one speaking to me out of the house, and the man that
stood by me,
43:7. Said to me:  Son of man, the place of my throne, and the place of
the soles of my feet, where I dwell in the midst of the children of
Israel for ever:  and the house of Israel shall no more profane my holy
name, they and their kings by their fornications, and by the carcasses
of their kings, and by the high places.
43:8. They who have set their threshold by my threshold, and their
posts by my posts:  and there was but a wall between me, and them:  and
they profaned my holy name by the abominations which they committed:
for which reason I consumed them in my wrath.
43:9. Now therefore let them put away their fornications, and the
carcasses of their kings far from me:  and I will dwell in the midst of
them for ever.
43:10. But thou, son of man, shew to the house of Israel the temple,
and let them be ashamed of their iniquities, and let them measure the
43:11. And be ashamed of all that they have done.  Shew them the form of
the house, and of the fashion thereof, the goings out and the comings
in, and the whole plan thereof, and all its ordinances, and all its
order, and all its laws, and thou shalt write it in their sight:  that
they may keep the whole form thereof, and its ordinances, and do them.
43:12. This is the law of the house upon the top of the mountain:  All
its border round about; most holy:  this then is the law of the house.
43:13. And these are the measures of the altar by the truest cubit,
which is a cubit and a handbreadth:  the bottom thereof was a cubit, and
the breadth a cubit:  and the border thereof unto its edge, and round
about, one handbreadth:  and this was the trench of the altar.
43:14. And from the bottom of the ground to the lowest brim two cubits,
and the breadth of one cubit:  and from the lesser brim to the greater
brim four cubits, and the breadth of one cubit.
43:15. And the Ariel itself was four cubits:  and from the Ariel upward
were four horns.
The Ariel. . .That is, the altar itself, or rather the highest part of
it, upon which the burnt offerings were laid.  In the Hebrew it is
Harel, that is, the mountain of God:  but in the following verse
Haariel, that is, the lion of God; a figure, from its consuming, and as
it were devouring the sacrifices, as a lion devours its prey.
43:16. And the Ariel was twelve cubits long, and twelve cubits broad,
foursquare, with equal sides.
43:17. And the brim was fourteen cubits long, and fourteen cubits broad
in the four corners thereof:  and the crown round about it was half a
cubit, and the bottom of it one cubit round about:  and its steps turned
toward the east.
43:18. And he said to me:  Son of man, thus saith the Lord God:  These
are the ceremonies of the altar, in what day soever it shall be made:
that holocausts may be offered upon it, and blood poured out.
43:19. And thou shalt give to the priests, and the Levites, that are of
the race of Sadoc, who approach to me, saith the Lord God, to offer to
me a calf of the herd for sin.
43:20. And thou shalt take of his blood, and shalt put it upon the four
horns thereof, and upon the four corners of the brim, and upon the
crown round about:  and thou shalt cleanse, and expiate it.
43:21. And thou shalt take the calf, that is offered for sin:  and thou
shalt burn him in a separate place of the house without the sanctuary.
43:22. And in the second day thou shalt offer a he goat without blemish
for sin:  and they shall expiate the altar, as they expiated it with the
43:23. And when thou shalt have made an end of the expiation thereof,
thou shalt offer a calf of the herd without blemish, and a ram of the
flock without blemish.
43:24. And thou shalt offer them in the sight of the Lord, and the
priests shall put salt upon them, and shall offer them a holocaust to
43:25. Seven days shalt thou offer a he goat for sin daily:  they shall
offer also a calf of the herd, and a ram of the flock without blemish.
43:26. Seven days shall they expiate the altar, and shall cleanse it:
and they shall consecrate it.
Consecrate it. . .Literally, fill its hand, that is, dedicate and apply
it to holy service.
43:27. And the days being expired, on the eighth day and thenceforward,
the priests shall offer your holocausts upon the altar, and the peace
offerings:  and I will be pacified towards you, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 44
The east gate of the sanctuary shall be always shut.  The uncircumcised
shall not enter into the sanctuary:  nor the Levites that have served
idols:  but the sons of Sadoc shall do the priestly functions, who stood
firm in the worst of times.
44:1. And he brought me back to the way of the gate of the outward
sanctuary, which looked towards the east:  and it was shut.
44:2. And the Lord said to me:  This gate shall be shut, it shall not be
opened, and no man shall pass through it:  because the Lord the God of
Israel hath entered in by it, and it shall be shut
44:3. For the prince.  The prince himself shall sit in it, to eat bread
before the Lord:  he shall enter in by the way of the porch of the gate,
and shall go out by the same way.
44:4. And he brought me by the way of the north gate, in the sight of
the house:  and I saw, and behold the glory of the Lord filled the house
of the Lord:  and I fell on my face.
44:5. And the Lord said to me:  Son of man, attend with thy heart and
behold with thy eyes, and hear with thy ears, all that I say to thee
concerning all the ceremonies of the house of the Lord, and concerning
all the laws thereof:  and mark well the ways of the temple, with all
the goings out of the sanctuary.
44:6. And thou shalt say to the house of Israel that provoketh me:  Thus
saith the Lord God:  Let all your wicked doings suffice you, O house of
44:7. In that you have brought in strangers uncircumcised in heart, and
uncircumcised in flesh, to be in my sanctuary, and to defile my house:
and you offer my bread, the fat, and the blood:  and you have broken my
covenant by all your wicked doings.
44:8. And you have not kept the ordinances of my sanctuary:  but you
have set keepers of my charge in my sanctuary for yourselves.
44:9. Thus saith the Lord God:  No stranger uncircumcised in heart, and
uncircumcised in flesh, shall enter into my sanctuary, no stranger that
is in the midst of the children of Israel.
44:10. Moreover the Levites that went away far from me, when the
children of Israel went astray, and have wandered from me after their
idols, and have borne their iniquity:
44:11. They shall be officers in my sanctuary, and doorkeepers of the
gates of the house, and ministers to the house:  they shall slay the
holocausts, and the victims of the people:  and they shall stand in
their sight, to minister to them.
44:12. Because they ministered to them before their idols, and were a
stumblingblock of iniquity to the house of Israel:  therefore have I
lifted up my hand against them, saith the Lord God, and they shall bear
their iniquity:
44:13. And they shall not come near to me, to do the office of priest
to me, neither shall they come near to any of my holy things that are
by the holy of holies:  but they shall bear their shame, and their
wickednesses which they have committed.
44:14. And I will make them doorkeepers of the house, for all the
service thereof, and for all that shall be done therein.
44:15. But the priests, and Levites, the sons of Sadoc, who kept the
ceremonies of my sanctuary, when the children of Israel went astray
from me, they shall come near to me, to minister to me:  and they shall
stand before me, to offer me the fat, and the blood, saith the Lord
44:16. They shall enter into my sanctuary, and they shall come near to
my table, to minister unto me, and to keep my ceremonies.
44:17. And when they shall enter in at the gates of the inner court,
they shall be clothed with linen garments:  neither shall any woollen
come upon them, when they minister in the gates of the inner court and
44:18. They shall have linen mitres on their heads, and linen breeches
on their loins, and they shall not be girded with any thing that
causeth sweat.
44:19. And when they shall go forth to the outward court to the people,
they shall put off their garments wherein they ministered, and lay them
up in the store chamber of the sanctuary, and they shall clothe
themselves with other garments:  and they shall not sanctify the people
with their vestments.
Shall not sanctify the people with their vestments. . .By exposing them
to the danger of touching the sacred vestments, which none were to
touch but they that were sanctified.
44:20. Neither shall they shave their heads, nor wear long hair:  but
they shall only poll their heads.
44:21. And no priest shall drink wine when he is to go into the inner
44:22. Neither shall they take to wife a widow, nor one that is
divorced, but they shall take virgins of the seed of the house of
Israel:  but they may take a widow also, that is, the widow of a priest.
44:23. And they shall teach my people the difference between holy and
profane, and shew them how to discern between clean and unclean.
44:24. And when there shall be a controversy, they shall stand in my
judgments, and shall judge:  they shall keep my laws, and my ordinances
in all my solemnities, and sanctify my sabbaths.
44:25. And they shall come near no dead person, lest they be defiled,
only their father and mother, and son and daughter, and brother and
sister, that hath not had another husband:  for whom they may become
44:26. And after one is cleansed, they shall reckon unto him seven
44:27. And in the day that he goeth into the sanctuary, to the inner
court, to minister unto me in the sanctuary, he shall offer for his
sin, saith the Lord God.
44:28. And they shall have no inheritance, I am their inheritance:
neither shall you give them any possession in Israel, for I am their
44:29. They shall eat the victim both for sin and for trespass:  and
every vowed thing in Israel shall be theirs.
30. And the firstfruits of all the firstborn, and all the libations of
all things that are offered, shall be the priest's:  and you shall give
the firstfruits of your meats to the priest, that he may return a
blessing upon thy house.
44:31. The priests shall not eat of any thing that is dead of itself or
caught by a beast, whether it be fowl or cattle.
Ezechiel Chapter 45
Portions of land for the sanctuary, for the city, and for the prince.
Ordinances for the prince.
45:1. And when you shall begin to divide the land by lot, separate ye
firstfruits to the Lord, a portion of the land to be holy, in length
twenty-five thousand and in breadth ten thousand:  it shall be holy in
all the borders thereof round about.
Twenty-five thousand. . .Viz., reeds or cubits.
45:2. And there shall be for the sanctuary on every side five hundred
by five hundred, foursquare round about:  and fifty cubits for the
suburbs thereof round about.
45:3. And with this measure thou shalt measure the length of five and
twenty thousand, and the breadth of ten thousand, and in it shall be
the temple and the holy of holies.
45:4. The holy portion of the land shall be for the priests the
ministers of the sanctuary, who come near to the ministry of the Lord:
and it shall be a place for their houses, and for the holy place of the
45:5. And five and twenty thousand of length, and ten thousand of
breadth shall be for the Levites, that minister in the house:  they
shall possess twenty store chambers.
45:6. And you shall appoint the possession of the city five thousand
broad, and five and twenty thousand long, according to the separation
of the sanctuary, for the whole house of Israel.
45:7. For the prince also on the one side and on the other side,
according to the separation of the sanctuary, and according to the
possession of the city, over against the separation of the sanctuary,
and over against the possession of the city:  from the side of the sea
even to the sea, and from the side of the east even to the east.  And
the length according to every part from the west border to the east
45:8. He shall have a portion of the land in Israel:  and the princes
shall no more rob my people:  but they shall give the land to the house
of Israel according to their tribes:
45:9. Thus saith the Lord God:  Let it suffice you, O princes of Israel:
cease from iniquity and robberies, and execute judgment and justice,
separate your confines from my people, saith the Lord God.
45:10. You shall have just balances, and a just ephi, and a just bate.
45:11. The ephi and the bate shall be equal, and of one measure:  that
the bate may contain the tenth part of a core, and the ephi the tenth
part of a core:  their weight shall be equal according to the measure of
The ephi and the bate. . .These measures were of equal capacity, but the
bate served for liquids, and the ephi for dry things.
45:12. And the sicle hath twenty obols.  Now twenty sicles, and five and
twenty sicles, and fifteen sicles, make a mna,
45:13. And these are the firstfruits, which you shall take:  the sixth
part of an ephi of a core of wheat, and the sixth part of an ephi of a
core of barley.
45:14. The measure of oil also, a bate of oil is the tenth part of a
core:  and ten bates make a core:  for ten bates fill a core.
45:15. And one ram out of a flock of two hundred, of those that Israel
feedeth for sacrifice, and for holocausts, and for peace offerings, to
make atonement for them, saith the Lord God.
45:16. All the people of the land shall be bound to these firstfruits
for the prince in Israel.
45:17. And the prince shall give the holocaust, and the sacrifice, and
the libations on the feasts, and on the new moons, and on the sabbaths,
and on all the solemnities of the house of Israel:  he shall offer the
sacrifice for sin, and the holocaust, and the peace offerings to make
expiation for the house of Israel.
45:18. Thus saith the Lord God:  In the first month, the first of the
month, thou shalt take a calf of the herd without blemish, and thou
shalt expiate the sanctuary.
45:19. And the priest shall take of the blood of the sin offering:  and
he shall put it on the posts of the house, and on the four corners of
the brim of the altar, and oil the posts of the gate of the inner
45:20. And so shalt thou do in the seventh day of the month, for every
one that hath been ignorant, and hath been deceived by error, and thou
shalt make expiation for the house.
45:21. In the first month, the fourteenth day of the month, you shall
observe the solemnity of the pasch:  seven days unleavened bread shall
45:22. And the prince on that day shall offer for himself, and for all
the people of the land, a calf for sin.
45:23. And in the solemnity of the seven days he shall offer for a
holocaust to the Lord, seven calves, and seven rams without blemish
daily for seven days:  and for sin a he goat daily.
45:24. And he shall offer the sacrifice of an ephi for every calf, and
an ephi for every ram:  and a hin of oil for every ephi.
45:25. In the seventh month, in the fifteenth day of the month, in the
solemn feast, he shall do the like for the seven days:  as well in
regard to the sin offering, as to the holocaust, and the sacrifice, and
Ezechiel Chapter 46
Other ordinances for the prince and for the sacrifices.
46:1. Thus saith the Lord God:  The gate of the inner court that looketh
toward the east, shall be shut the six days, on which work is done; but
on the sabbath day it shall be opened, yea and on the day of the new
moon it shall be opened.
46:2. And the prince shall enter by the way of the porch of the gate
from without, and he shall stand at the threshold of the gate:  and the
priests shall offer his holocaust, and his peace offerings:  and he
shall adore upon the threshold of the gate, and shall go out:  but the
gate shall not be shut till the evening.
46:3. And the people of the land shall adore at the door of that gate
before the Lord on the sabbaths, and on the new moons.
46:4. And the holocaust that the prince shall offer to the Lord on the
sabbath day, shall be six lambs without blemish, and a ram without
46:5. And the sacrifice of all ephi for a ram:  but for the lambs what
sacrifice his hand shall allow:  and a hin of oil for every ephi.
46:6. And on the day of the new moon a calf of the herd without
blemish:  and the six lambs, and the rams shall be without blemish.
46:7. And he shall offer in sacrifice an ephi for calf, an ephi also
for a ram:  but for the lambs, as his hand shall find:  and a hin of oil
for every ephi.
46:8. And when the prince is to go in, let him go in by the way of the
porch of the gate, and let him go out the same way.
46:9. But when the people of the land shall go in before the Lord in
the solemn feasts, he that goeth in by the north gate to adore, shall
go out by the way of the south gate; and he that goeth in by the way of
the south gate, shall go out by the way of the north gate:  he shall not
return by the way of the gate whereby he came in, but shall go out at
that over against it.
46:10. And the prince in the midst of them, shall go in when they go
in, and go out when they go out.
46:11. And in the fairs, and in the solemnities there shall be the
sacrifice of an ephi to a calf, and an ephi to a ram:  and to the lambs,
the sacrifice shall be as his hand shall find:  and a hin of oil to
46:12. But when the prince shall offer a voluntary holocaust, or
voluntary peace offering to the Lord:  the gate that looketh towards the
east shall be opened to him, and he shall offer his holocaust, and his
peace offerings, as it is wont to be done on the sabbath day:  and he
shall go out, and the gate shall be shut after he is gone forth.
46:13. And he shall offer every day for a holocaust to the Lord, a lamb
of the same year without blemish:  he shall offer it always in the
46:14. And he shall offer the sacrifice for it morning by morning, the
sixth part of an ephi:  and the third part of a hin of oil to be mingled
with the fine flour:  a sacrifice to the Lord by ordinance continual and
everlasting.
46:15. He shall offer the lamb, and the sacrifice, and the oil morning
by morning:  an everlasting holocaust.
46:16. Thus saith the Lord God:  If the prince give a gift to any of his
sons:  the inheritance of it shall go to his children, they shall
possess it by inheritance.
46:17. But if he give a legacy out of his inheritance to one of his
servants, it shall be his until the year of release, and it shall
return to the prince:  but his inheritance shall go to his sons.
46:18. And the prince shall not take of the people's inheritance by
violence, nor of their possession:  but out of his own possession he
shall give an inheritance to his sons:  that my people be not dispersed
every man from his possession.
46:19. And he brought me in by the entry that was at the side of the
gate, into the chambers of the sanctuary that were for the priests,
which looked toward the north.  And there was a place bending to the
46:20. And he said to me:  This is the place where the priests shall
boil the sin offering, and the trespass offering:  where they shall
dress the sacrifice, that they may not bring it out into the outward
court, and the people be sanctified.
46:21. And he brought me into the outward court, and he led me about by
the four corners of the court:  and behold there was a little court in
the corner of the court, to every corner of the court there was a
little court.
46:22. In the four corners of the court were little courts disposed,
forty cubits long, and thirty broad, all the four were of one measure.
46:23. And there was a wall round about compassing the four little
courts, and there were kitchens built under the rows round about.
46:24. And he said to me:  This is the house of the kitchens wherein the
ministers of the house of the Lord shall boil the victims of the
Ezechiel Chapter 47
The vision of the holy waters issuing out from under the temple:  the
borders of the land to be divided among the twelve tribes.
47:1. And he brought me again to the gate of the house, and behold
waters issued out from under the threshold of the house toward the
east:  for the forefront of the house looked toward the east:  but the
waters came down to the right side of the temple to the south part of
Waters. . .These waters are not to be understood literally (for there
were none such that flowed from the temple); but mystically, of the
baptism of Christ, and of his doctrine and his grace:  the trees that
grow on the banks are Christian virtues:  the fishes are Christians,
that spiritually live in and by these holy waters, the fishermen are
the apostles, and apostolic preachers:  the fenny places, where there is
no health, are such as by being out of the church are separated from
these waters of life.
47:2. And he led me out by the way of the north gate, and he caused me
to turn to the way without the outward gate to the way that looked
toward the east:  and behold there ran out waters on the right side.
47:3. And when the man that had the line in his hand went out towards
the east, he measured a thousand cubits:  and he brought me through the
water up to the ankles.
47:4. And again he measured a thousand, and he brought me through the
water up to the knees.
47:5. And he measured a thousand, and he brought me through the water
up to the loins.  And he measured a thousand, and it was a torrent,
which I could not pass over:  for the waters were risen so as to make a
deep torrent, which could not be passed over.
47:6. And he said to me:  Surely thou hast seen, O son of man.  And he
brought me out, and he caused me to turn to the bank of the torrent.
47:7. And when I had turned myself, behold on the bank of the torrent
were very many trees on both sides.
47:8. And he said to me:  These waters that issue forth toward the
hillocks of sand to the east, and go down to the plains of the desert,
shall go into the sea, and shall go out, and the waters shall be
47:9. And every living creature that creepeth whithersoever the torrent
shall come, shall live:  and there shall be fishes in abundance after
these waters shall come thither, and they shall be healed, and all
things shall live to which the torrent shall come.
47:10. And the fishers shall stand over these waters, from Engaddi even
to Engallim there shall be drying of nets:  there shall be many sorts of
the fishes thereof, as the fishes of the great sea, a very great
47:11. But on the shore thereof, and in the fenny places they shall not
be healed, because they shall be turned into saltpits.
47:12. And by the torrent on the banks thereof on both sides shall grow
all trees that bear fruit:  their leaf shall not fall off, and their
fruit shall not fail:  every month shall they bring forth firstfruits,
because the waters thereof shall issue out of the sanctuary:  and the
fruits thereof shall be for food, and the leaves thereof for medicine.
47:13. Thus saith the Lord God:  This is the border, by which you shall
possess the land according to the twelve tribes of Israel:  for Joseph
hath a double portion.
47:14. And you shall possess it, every man in like manner as his
brother:  concerning which I lifted up my hand to give it to your
fathers:  and this land shall fall unto you for a possession.
47:15. And this is the border of the land:  toward the north side, from
the great sea by the way of Hethalon, as men go to Sedada,
47:16. Emath, Berotha, Sabarim, which is between the border of Damascus
and the border of Emath the house of Tichon, which is by the border of
47:17. And the border from the sea even to the court of Enan, shall be
the border of Damascus, and from the north to the north:  the border of
Emath, this is the north side.
47:18. And the east side is from the midst of Auran, and from the midst
of Damascus, and from the midst of Galaad, and from the midst of the
land of Israel, Jordan making the bound to the east sea, and thus you
shall measure the east side.
47:19. And the south side southward is, from Thamar even to the waters
of contradiction of Cades:  and, the torrent even to the great sea:  and
this is the south side southward.
47:20. And the side toward the sea, is the great sea from the borders
straight on, till thou come to Emath:  this is the side of the sea.
47:21. And you shall divide this land unto you by the tribes of Israel:
47:22. And you shall divide it by lot for an inheritance to you, and to
the strangers that shall come over to you, that shall beget children
among you:  and they shall be unto you as men of the same country born
among the children of Israel:  they shall divide the possession with you
in the midst of the tribes of Israel.
47:23. And in what tribe soever the stranger shall be, there shall you
give him possession, saith the Lord God.
Ezechiel Chapter 48
The portions of the twelve tribes, of the sanctuary, of the city, and
of the prince.  The dimensions and gates of the city.
48:1. And these are the names of the tribes from the borders of the
north, by the way of Hethalon, as they go to Emath, the court of Enan
the border of Damascus northward, by the way off Emath.  And from the
east side thereof to the sea shall be one portion for Dan.
48:2. And by the border of Dan, from the east side even to the side of
the sea, one portion for Aser:
48:3. And by the border of Aser, from the east side even to the side of
the sea one portion for Nephthali.
48:4. And by the border of Nephthali, from the east side even to the
side of the one portion for Manasses.
48:5. And by the border of Manasses, from the east side even to the
side of the sea, one portion for Ephraim.
48:6. And by the border of Ephraim, from the east side even to the side
of the sea, one portion for Ruben.
48:7. And by the border of Ruben, from the east side even to the side
of the sea, one portion for Juda.
48:8. And by the border of Juda, from the east side even to the side of
the sea, shall be the firstfruits which you shall set apart, five and
twenty thousand in breadth, and length, as every one of the portions
from the east side to the side of the sea:  and the sanctuary shall be
in the midst thereof.
48:9. The firstfruits which you shall set apart for the Lord will be
the length of five and twenty thousand, and the breadth of ten
48:10. And these shall be the firstfruits of the sanctuary for the
priests:  toward the north five and twenty thousand in length, and
toward the sea ten thousand in breadth, and toward the east also ten
thousand in breadth, and toward the south five and twenty thousand in
length:  and the sanctuary of the Lord shall be in the midst thereof.
48:11. The sanctuary shall be for the priests of the sons of Sadoc, who
kept my ceremonies, and went not astray when the children of Israel
went astray, as the Levites also went astray.
48:12. And for them shall be the firstfruits of the firstfruits of the
land holy of holies, by the border of the Levites,
48:13. And the Levites in like manner shall have by the borders of the
priests five and twenty thousand in length, and ten thousand in
breadth.  All the length shall be five and twenty thousand, and the
breadth ten thousand.
48:14. And they shall not sell thereof, nor exchange, neither shall the
firstfruits of the land be alienated, because they are sanctified to
48:15. But the five thousand that remain in the breadth over against
the five and twenty thousand, shall be a profane place for the city for
dwelling, and for suburbs and the city shall be in the midst thereof.
48:16. And these are the measures thereof:  on the north side four
thousand and five hundred:  and on the south side four thousand and five
hundred:  and on the east side four thousand and five hundred:  and on
the west side four thousand and five hundred.
48:17. And the suburbs of the city shall be to the north two hundred
and fifty, and the south two hundred and fifty, and to the east two
hundred and fifty, and to the sea two hundred and fifty.
48:18. And the residue in length by the firstfruits of the sanctuary,
ten thousand toward the east, and ten thousand toward the west, shall
be as the firstfruits of the sanctuary:  and the fruit thereof shall be
for bread to them that serve the city.
48:19. And they that serve the city, shall serve it out of all the
tribes of Israel.
48:20. All the firstfruits, of five and twenty thousand, by five and
twenty thousand foursquare, shall be set apart for the firstfruits of
the sanctuary, and for the possession of the city.
48:21. And the residue shall be for the prince on every side of the
firstfruits of the sanctuary, and of the possession of the city over
against the five and twenty thousand of the firstfruits unto the east
border:  toward the sea also over against the five and twenty thousand,
unto the border of the sea, shall likewise be the portion of the
prince:  and the firstfruits of the sanctuary, and the sanctuary of the
temple shall be in the midst thereof.
48:22. And from the possession of the Levites, and from the possession
of the city which are in the midst of the prince's portions:  what shall
be to the border of Juda, and to the border of Benjamin, shall also
belong to the prince.
48:23. And for the rest of the tribes:  from the east side to the west
side, one portion for Benjamin.
48:24. And over against the border of Benjamin, from the east side to
the west side, one portion for Simeon.
48:25. And by the border of Simeon, from the east side to the west
side, one portion for Issachar.
48:26. And by the border of Issachar, from the east side to the west
side, one portion for Zabulon.
48:27. And by the border of Zabulon, from the east side to the side of
the sea, one portion for Gad.
48:28. And by the border of Gad, the south side southward:  and the
border shall be from Thamar, even to the waters of contradiction of
Cades, the inheritance over against the great sea.
48:29. This is the land which you shall divide by lot to the tribes of
Israel:  and these are the portions of them, saith the Lord God.
48:30. And these are the goings out of the city:  on the north side thou
shalt measure four thousand and five hundred.
48:31. And the gates of the city according to the names of the tribes
of Israel, three gates on the north side, the gate of Ruben one, the
gate of Juda one, the gate of Levi one.
48:32. And at the east side, four thousand and five hundred:  and three
gates, the gate of Joseph one, the gate of Benjamin one, the gate of
48:33. And at the south side, thou shalt measure four thousand and five
hundred:  and three gates, the gate of Simeon one, the gate of Issachar
one, the gate of Zabulon one.
48:34. And at the west side, four thousand and five hundred, and their
three gates, the gate of Gad one, the gate of Aser one, the gate of
Nephthali one.
48:35. Its circumference was eighteen thousand:  and the name of the
city from that day, The Lord is there.
The Lord is there. . .  This name is here given to the city, that is, to
the church of Christ:  because the Lord is always with her till the end
of the world.  Matt. 28.20.
THE PROPHECY OF DANIEL
DANIEL, whose name signifies THE JUDGMENT OF GOD, was of the royal
blood of the kings of Juda:  and one of those that were first of all
carried away into captivity.  He was so renowned for wisdom and
knowledge, that it became a proverb among the Babylonians, AS WISE AS
DANIEL (Ezech. 28.3).  And his holiness was so great from his very
childhood, that at the time when he was as yet but a young man, he is
joined by the SPIRIT of GOD with NOE and JOB, as three persons most
eminent for virtue and sanctity, Ezech. 14.  He is not commonly numbered
by the Hebrews among THE PROPHETS:  because he lived at court, and in
high station in the world:  but if we consider his many clear
predictions of things to come, we shall find that no one better
deserves the name and title of A PROPHET:  which also has been given him
by the SON of GOD himself, Matt. 24, Mark 13., Luke 21.
Daniel Chapter 1
Daniel and his companions are taken into the palace of the king of
Babylon:  they abstain from his meat and wine, and succeed better with
pulse and water.  Their excellence and wisdom.
1:1. In the third year of the reign of Joakim, king of Juda,
Nabuchodonosor, king of Babylon, came to Jerusalem, and beseiged it.
1:2. And the Lord delivered into his hands Joakim, the king of Juda,
and part of the vessels of the house of God:  and he carried them away
into the land of Sennaar, to the house of his god, and the vessels he
brought into the treasure house of his god.
His god. . .Bel or Belus, the principal idol of the Chaldeans.
1:3. And the king spoke to Asphenez, the master of the eunuchs, that he
should bring in some of the children of Israel, and of the king's seed,
and of the princes,
1:4. Children in whom there was no blemish, well favoured, and skilful
in all wisdom, acute in knowledge, and instructed in science, and such
as might stand in the king's palace, that he might teach them the
learning, and tongue of the Chaldeans.
1:5. And the king appointed them a daily provision, of his own meat,
and of the wine of which he drank himself, that being nourished three
years, afterwards they might stand before the king.
1:6. Now there was among them of the children of Juda, Daniel, Ananias,
Misael, and Azarias.
1:7. And the master of the eunuchs gave them names:  to Daniel,
Baltassar:  to Ananias, Sidrach:  to Misael, Misach:  and to Azarias,
1:8. But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not be defiled with
the king's table, nor with the wine which he drank:  and he requested
the master of the eunuchs that he might not be defiled.
Be defiled, etc. . .Viz., either by eating meat forbidden by the law, or
which had before been offered to idols.
1:9. And God gave to Daniel grace and mercy in the sight of the prince
of the eunuchs.
1:10. And the prince of the eunuchs said to Daniel:  I fear my lord, the
king, who hath appointed you meat and drink:  who if he should see your
faces leaner than those of the other youths, your equals, you shall
endanger my head to the king.
1:11. And Daniel said to Malasar, whom the prince of the eunuchs had
appointed over Daniel, Ananias, Misael, and Azarias:
1:12. Try, I beseech thee, thy servants for ten days, and let pulse be
given us to eat, and water to drink:
Pulse. . .That is, pease, beans, and such like.
1:13. And look upon our faces, and the faces of the children that eat
of the king's meat:  and as thou shalt see, deal with thy servants.
1:14. And when he had heard these words, he tried them for ten days.
1:15. And after ten days, their faces appeared fairer and fatter than
all the children that ate of the king's meat.
1:16. So Malasar took their portions, and the wine that they should
drink:  and he gave them pulse.
1:17. And to these children God gave knowledge, and understanding in
every book, and wisdom:  but to Daniel the understanding also of all
visions and dreams.
1:18. And when the days were ended, after which the king had ordered
they should be brought in:  the prince of the eunuchs brought them in
before Nabuchodonosor.
1:19. And when the king had spoken to them, there were not found among
them all such as Daniel, Ananias, Misael, and Azarias:  and they stood
in the king's presence.
1:20. And in all matters of wisdom and understanding, that the king
enquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the diviners,
and wise men, that were in all his kingdom.
1:21. And Daniel continued even to the first year of king Cyrus.
Daniel Chapter 2
Daniel, by divine revelation, declares the dream of Nabuchodonosor, and
the interpretation of it.  He is highly honoured by the king.
2:1. In the second year of the reign of Nabuchodonosor, Nabuchodonosor
had a dream, and his spirit was terrified, and his dream went out of
The second year. . .Viz., from the death of his father Nabopolassar; for
he had reigned before as partner with his father in the empire.
2:2. Then the king commanded to call together the diviners and the wise
men, and the magicians, and the Chaldeans:  to declare to the king his
dreams:  so they came and stood before the king.
The Chaldeeans. . .That is, the astrologers, that pretended to divine by
2:3. And the king said to them:  I saw a dream:  and being troubled in
mind I know not what I saw.
2:4. And the Chaldeans answered the king in Syriac:  O king, live for
ever:  tell to thy servants thy dream, and we will declare the
interpretation thereof.
2:5. And the king, answering, said to the Chaldeans:  The thing is gone
out of my mind:  unless you tell me the dream, and the meaning thereof,
you shall be put to death, and your houses shall be confiscated.
2:6. but if you tell the dream, and the meaning of it, you shall
receive of me rewards, and gifts, and great honour:  therefore, tell me
the dream, and the interpretation thereof.
2:7. They answered again and said:  Let the king tell his servants the
dream, and we will declare the interpretation of it.
2:8. The king answered and said:  I know for certain, that you seek to
gain time, since you know that the thing is gone from me.
2:9. If, therefore, you tell me not the dream, there is one sentence
concerning you, that you have also framed a lying interpretation, and
full of deceit, to speak before me till the time pass away.  Tell me,
therefore, the dream, that I may know that you also give a true
interpretation thereof.
2:10. Then the Chaldeans answered before the king, and said:  There is
no man upon earth, that can accomplish thy word, O king; neither doth
any king, though great and mighty, ask such a thing of any diviner, or
wise man, or Chaldean.
2:11. For the thing that thou asketh, O king, is difficult:  nor can any
one be found that can shew it before the king, except the gods, whose
conversation is not with men.
2:12. Upon hearing this, the king in fury, and in great wrath,
commanded that all the wise men of Babylon should be put to death.
2:13. And the decree being gone forth, the wise men were slain:  and
Daniel and his companions were sought for, to be put to death.
2:14. Then Daniel inquired concerning the law and the sentence, of
Arioch, the general of the king's army, who was gone forth to kill the
wise men of Babylon.
2:15. And he asked him that had received the orders of the king, why so
cruel a sentence was gone forth from the face of the king.  And when
Arioch had told the matter to Daniel,
2:16. Daniel went in, and desired of the king, that he would give him
time to resolve the question, and declare it to the king.
2:17. And he went into his house, and told the matter to Ananias, and
Misael, and Azarias, his companions:
2:18. To the end that they should ask mercy at the face of the God of
heaven, concerning this secret, and that Daniel and his companions
might not perish with the rest of the wise men of Babylon.
2:19. Then was the mystery revealed to Daniel by a vision in the night:
and Daniel blessed the God of heaven,
2:20. And speaking, he said:  Blessed be the name of the Lord from
eternity and for evermore:  for wisdom and fortitude are his.
2:21. And he changeth times and ages:  taketh away kingdoms, and
establisheth them:  giveth wisdom to the wise, and knowledge to them
that have understanding:
2:22. He revealeth deep and hidden things, and knoweth what is in
darkness:  and light is with him.
2:23. To thee, O God of our fathers, I give thanks, and I praise thee:
because thou hast given me wisdom and strength:  and now thou hast shewn
me what we desired of thee, for thou hast made known to us the king's
2:24. After this Daniel went in to Arioch, to whom the king had given
orders to destroy the wise men of Babylon, and he spoke thus to him:
Destroy not the wise men of Babylon:  bring me in before the king, and I
will tell the solution to the king.
2:25. Then Arioch in haste brought in Daniel to the king, and said to
him:  I have found a man of the children of the captivity of Juda, that
will resolve the question to the king.
2:26. The king answered, and said to Daniel, whose name was Baltassar:
Thinkest thou indeed that thou canst tell me the dream that I saw, and
the interpretation thereof?
2:27. And Daniel made answer before the king, and said:  The secret that
the king desireth to know, none of the wise men, or the philosophers,
or the diviners, or the soothsayers, can declare to the king.
2:28. But there is a God in heaven that revealeth mysteries, who hath
shewn to thee, O king Nabuchodonosor, what is to come to pass in the
latter times.  Thy dream, and the visions of thy head upon thy bed, are
2:29. Thou, O king, didst begin to think in thy bed, what should come
to pass hereafter:  and he that revealeth mysteries shewed thee what
shall come to pass.
2:30. To me also this secret is revealed, not by any wisdom that I have
more than all men alive:  but that the interpretation might be made
manifest to the king, and thou mightest know the thought of thy mind.
2:31. Thou, O king, sawest, and behold there was as it were a great
statue:  this statue, which was great and high, tall of stature, stood
before thee, and the look thereof was terrible.
2:32. The head of this statue was of fine gold, but the breast and the
arms of silver, and the belly and the thighs of brass.
2:33. And the legs of iron, the feet part of iron and part of clay.
2:34. Thus thou sawest, till a stone was cut out of a mountain without
hands:  and it struck the statue upon the feet thereof that were of iron
and clay, and broke them in pieces.
2:35. Then was the iron, the clay, the brass, the silver, and the gold
broken to pieces together, and became like the chaff of a summer's
threshing floor, and they were carried away by the wind:  and there was
no place found for them:  but the stone that struck the statue became a
great mountain, and filled the whole earth.
2:36. This is the dream:  we will also tell the interpretation thereof
before thee, O king.
2:37. Thou art a king of kings:  and the God of heaven hath given thee a
kingdom, and strength, and power, and glory:
2:38. And all places wherein the children of men, and the beasts of the
field do dwell:  he hath also given the birds of the air into thy hand,
and hath put all things under thy power:  thou, therefore, art the head
2:39. And after thee shall rise up another kingdom, inferior to thee,
of silver:  and another third kingdom of brass, which shall rule over
all the world.
Another kingdom. . .Viz., that of the Medes and Persians.  Ibid.  Third
kingdom. . .Viz., that of Alexander the Great.
2:40. And the fourth kingdom shall be as iron.  As iron breaketh into
pieces, and subdueth all things, so shall that break, and destroy all
The fourth kingdom, etc. . .Some understand this of the successors of
Alexander, the kings of Syria and Egypt, others of the Roman empire,
and its civil wars.
2:41. And whereas thou sawest the feet, and the toes, part of potter's
clay, and part of iron:  the kingdom shall be divided, but yet it shall
take its origin from the iron, according as thou sawest the iron mixed
with the miry clay.
2:42. And as the toes of the feet were part of iron, and part of clay:
the kingdom shall be partly strong, and partly broken.
2:43. And whereas thou sawest the iron mixed with miry clay, they shall
be mingled indeed together with the seed of man, but they shall not
stick fast one to another, as iron cannot be mixed with clay.
2:44. But in the days of those kingdoms, the God of heaven will set up
a kingdom that shall never by destroyed, and his kingdom shall not be
delivered up to another people:  and it shall break in pieces, and shall
consume all these kingdoms:  and itself shall stand for ever.
A kingdom. . .Viz., the kingdom of Christ in the Catholic Church which
cannot be destroyed.
2:45. According as thou sawest, that the stone was cut out of the
mountain without hands, and broke in pieces the clay and the iron, and
the brass, and the silver, and the gold, the great God hath shewn the
king what shall come to pass hereafter, and the dream is true, and the
interpretation thereof is faithful.
2:46. Then king Nabuchodonosor fell on his face, and worshipped Daniel,
and commanded that they should offer in sacrifice to him victims and
2:47. And the king spoke to Daniel, and said:  Verily, your God is the
God of gods, and Lord of kings, and a revealer of hidden things:  seeing
thou couldst discover this secret.
2:48. Then the king advanced Daniel to a high station, and gave him
many and great gifts:  and he made him governor over all the provinces
of Babylon:  and chief of the magistrates over all the wise men of
2:49. And Daniel requested of the king, and he appointed Sidrach,
Misach, and Abdenago, over the works of the province of Babylon:  but
Daniel himself was in the king's palace.
Daniel Chapter 3
Nabuchodonosor set up a golden statue; which he commands all to adore:
the three children for refusing to do it are cast into the fiery
furnace; but are not hurt by the flames.  Their prayer and canticle of
3:1. King Nabuchodonosor made a statue of gold, of sixty cubits high,
and six cubits broad, and he set it up in the plain of Dura, of the
province of Babylon.
3:2. Then Nabuchodonosor, the king, sent to call together the nobles,
the magistrates, and the judges, the captains, the rulers, and
governors, and all the chief men of the provinces, to come to the
dedication of the statue which king Nabuchodonosor had set up.
3:3. Then the nobles, the magistrates, and the judges, the captains,
and rulers, and the great men that were placed in authority, and all
the princes of the provinces, were gathered together to come to the
dedication of the statue, which king Nabuchodonosor had set up.  And
they stood before the statue which king Nabuchodonosor had set up.
3:4. Then a herald cried with a strong voice:  To you it is commanded, O
nations, tribes and languages:
3:5. That in the hour that you shall hear the sound of the trumpet, and
of the flute, and of the harp, of the sackbut, and of the psaltery, and
of the symphony, and of all kind of music, ye fall down and adore the
golden statue which king Nabuchodonosor hath set up.
3:6. But if any man shall not fall down and adore, he shall the same
hour be cast into a furnace of burning fire.
3:7. Upon this, therefore, at the time when all the people heard the
sound of the trumpet, the flute, and the harp, of the sackbut, and the
psaltery, of the symphony, and of all kind of music, all the nations,
tribes, and languages fell down and adored the golden statue which king
Nabuchodonosor had set up.
3:8. And presently at that very time some Chaldeans came and accused
3:9. And said to king Nabuchodonosor:  O king, live for ever:
3:10. Thou, O king, hast made a decree, that every man that shall hear
the sound of the trumpet, the flute, and the harp, of the sackbut, and
the psaltery, of the symphony, and of all kind of music, shall
prostrate himself, and adore the golden statue:
3:11. And that if any man shall not fall down and adore, he should be
cast into a furnace of burning fire.
3:12. Now there are certain Jews, whom thou hast set over the works of
the province of Babylon, Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago:  these men, O
king, have slighted thy decree:  they worship not thy gods, nor do they
adore the golden statue which thou hast set up.
3:13. Then Nabuchodonosor in fury, and in wrath, commanded that
Sidrach, Misach, ad Abdenago should be brought:  who immediately were
brought before the king.
3:14. And Nabuchodonosor, the king, spoke to them, and said:  Is it
true, O Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, that you do not worship my gods,
nor adore the golden statue that I have set up?
3:15. Now, therefore, if you be ready, at what hour soever, you shall
hear the sound of the trumpet, flute, harp, sackbut, and psaltery, and
symphony, and of all kind of music, prostrate yourselves, and adore the
statue which I have made:  but if you do not adore, you shall be cast
the same hour into the furnace of burning fire:  and who is the God that
shall deliver you out of my hand?
3:16. Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, answered, and said to king
Nabuchodonosor:  We have no occasion to answer thee concerning this
3:17. For behold our God, whom we worship, is able to save us from the
furnace of burning fire, and to deliver us out of thy hands, O king.
3:18. But if he will not, be it known to thee, O king, that we will not
worship thy gods, nor adore the golden statue which thou hast set up.
3:19. Then was Nabuchodonosor filled with fury:  and the countenance of
his face was changed against Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, and he
commanded that the furnace should be heated seven times more than it
had been accustomed to be heated.
3:20. And he commanded the strongest men that were in his army, to bind
the feet of Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, and to cast them into the
furnace of burning fire.
3:21. And immediately these men were bound, and were cast into the
furnace of burning fire, with their coats, and their caps, and their
shoes, and their garments.
3:22. For the king's commandment was urgent, and the furnace was heated
exceedingly.  And the flame of the fire slew those men that had cast in
Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago.
3:23. But these three men, that is, Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, fell
down bound in the midst of the furnace of burning fire.
3:24. And they walked in the midst of the flame, praising God, and
blessing the Lord.
And they walked, etc. . .Here St. Jerome takes notice, that from this
verse, to ver. 91, was not in the Hebrew in his time.  But as it was in
all the Greek Bibles, (which were originally translated from the
Hebrew,) it is more than probable that it had been formerly in the
Hebrew or rather in the Chaldaic, in which the book of Daniel was
written.  But this is certain:  that it is, and has been of old, received
by the church, and read as canonical scripture in her liturgy, and
divine offices.
3:25. Then Azarias standing up, prayed in this manner, and opening his
mouth in the midst of the fire, he said:
3:26. Blessed art thou, O Lord, the God of our fathers, and thy name is
worthy of praise, and glorious for ever:
3:27. For thou art just in all that thou hast done to us, and all thy
works are true, and thy ways right, and all thy judgments true.
3:28. For thou hast executed true judgments in all the things that thou
hast brought upon us, and upon Jerusalem, the holy city of our fathers:
for according to truth and judgment, thou hast brought all these things
upon us for our sins.
3:29. For we have sinned, and committed iniquity, departing from thee:
and we have trespassed in all things:
3:30. And we have not hearkened to thy commandments, nor have we
observed nor done as thou hadst commanded us, that it might go well
3:31. Wherefore, all that thou hast brought upon us, and every thing
that thou hast done to us, thou hast done in true judgment:
3:32. And thou hast delivered us into the hands of our enemies that are
unjust, and most wicked, and prevaricators, and to a king unjust, and
most wicked beyond all that are upon the earth.
3:33. And now we cannot open our mouths:  we are become a shame, and a
reproach to thy servants, and to them that worship thee.
3:34. Deliver us not up for ever, we beseech thee, for thy name's sake,
and abolish not thy covenant.
3:35. And take not away thy mercy from us, for the sake of Abraham, thy
beloved, and Isaac, thy servant, and Israel, thy holy one:
3:36. To whom thou hast spoken, promising that thou wouldst multiply
their seed as the stars of heaven, and as the sand that is on the sea
3:37. For we, O Lord, are diminished more than any nation, and are
brought low in all the earth this day for our sins.
3:38. Neither is there at this time prince, or leader, or prophet, or
holocaust, or sacrifice, or oblation, or incense, or place of first
fruits before thee,
3:39. That we may find thy mercy:  nevertheless, in a contrite heart and
humble spirit let us be accepted.
3:40. As in holocausts of rams, and bullocks, and as in thousands of
fat lambs:  so let our sacrifice be made in thy sight this day, that it
may please thee:  for there is no confusion to them that trust in thee.
3:41. And now we follow thee with all our heart, and we fear thee, and
seek thy face.
3:42. Put us not to confusion, but deal with us according to thy
meekness, and according to the multitude of thy mercies.
3:43. And deliver us, according to thy wonderful works, and give glory
to thy name, O Lord:
3:44. And let all them be confounded that shew evils to thy servants,
let them be confounded in all thy might, and let their strength be
3:45. And let them know that thou art the Lord, the only God, and
glorious over all the world.
3:46. Now the king's servants that had cast them in, ceased not to heat
the furnace with brimstone and tow, and pitch, and dry sticks,
3:47. And the flame mounted up above the furnace nine and forth cubits:
3:48. And it broke forth, and burnt such of the Chaldeans as it found
near the furnace.
3:49. But the angel of the Lord went down with Azarias and his
companions into the furnace:  and he drove the flame of the fire out of
the furnace,
3:50. And made the midst of the furnace like the blowing of a wind
bringing dew, and the fire touched them not at all, nor troubled them,
nor did them any harm.
3:51. Then these three, as with one mouth, praised and glorified and
blessed God, in the furnace, saying:
3:52. Blessed art thou, O Lord, the God of our fathers; and worthy to
be praised, and glorified, and exalted above all for ever:  and blessed
is the holy name of thy glory:  and worthy to be praised and exalted
above all, in all ages.
3:53. Blessed art thou in the holy temple of thy glory:  and exceedingly
to be praised and exalted above all for ever.
3:55. Blessed art thou that beholdest the depths, and sittest upon the
cherubims:  and worthy to be praised and exalted above all for ever.
3:56. Blessed art thou in the firmament of heaven:  and worthy of
praise, and glorious for ever.
3:57. All ye works of the Lord, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:58. O ye angels of the Lord, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:59. O ye heavens, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above all for
3:60. O all ye waters that are above the heavens, bless the Lord:
praise and exalt him above all for ever.
3:61. O all ye powers of the Lord, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:62. O ye sun and moon, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above all
3:63. O ye stars of heaven, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:64. O every shower and dew, bless ye the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:65. O all ye spirits of God, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:66. O ye fire and heat, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:67. O ye cold and heat, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:68. O ye dews and hoar frost, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:69. O ye frost and cold, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:70. O ye ice and snow, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above all
3:71. O ye nights and days, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:72. O ye light and darkness, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:73. O ye lightnings and clouds, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:74. O let the earth bless the Lord:  let it praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:76. O all ye things that spring up in the earth, bless the Lord:
praise and exalt him above all for ever.
3:77. O ye fountains, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above all
3:78. O ye seas and rivers, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:79. O ye whales, and all that move in the waters, bless the Lord:
praise and exalt him above all for ever.
3:80. O all ye fowls of the air, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:81. O all ye beasts and cattle, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:82. O ye sons of men, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him above all
3:83. O let Israel bless the Lord:  let them praise and exalt him above
all for ever.
3:84. O ye priests of the Lord, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:85. O ye servants of the Lord, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt him
above all for ever.
3:86. O ye spirits and souls of the just, bless the Lord:  praise and
exalt him above all for ever.
3:87. O ye holy and humble of heart, bless the Lord:  praise and exalt
him above all for ever.
3:88. O Ananias, Azarias, Misael, bless ye the Lord:  praise and exalt
him above all for ever.  For he hath delivered us from hell, ad saved us
out of the hand of death, and delivered us out of the midst of the
burning flame, and saved us out of the midst of the fire.
3:89. O give thanks to the Lord, because he is good:  because his mercy
endureth for ever and ever.
3:90. O all ye religious, bless the Lord, the God of gods:  praise him,
and give him thanks, because his mercy endureth for ever and ever.
3:91. Then Nabuchodonosor, the king, was astonished, and rose up in
haste, and said to his nobles:  Did we not cast three men bound into the
midst of the fire?  They answered the king, and said:  True, O king.
3:92. He answered, and said:  Behold, I see four men loose, and walking
in the midst of the fire, and there is no hurt in them, and the form of
the fourth is like the son of God.
3:93. Then Nabuchodonosor came to the door of the burning fiery
furnace, and said:  Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, ye servants of the
most high God, go ye forth, and come.  And immediately Sidrach, Misach,
and Abdenago, went out from the midst of the fire.
3:94. And the nobles, and the magistrates, and the judges, and the
great men of the king, being gathered together, considered these men,
that the fire had no power on their bodies, and that not a hair of
their head had been singed, nor their garments altered, nor the smell
of the fire had passed on them.
3:95. Then Nabuchodonosor breaking forth, said:  Blessed be the God of
them, to wit, of Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, who hath sent his
angel, and delivered his servants that believed in him:  and they
changed the king's word, and delivered up their bodies, that they might
not serve nor adore any god except their own God.
3:96. By me, therefore, this decree is made:  That every people, tribe,
and tongue, which shall speak blasphemy against the God of Sidrach,
Misach, and Abdenago, shall be destroyed, and their houses laid waste:
for there is no other God that can save in this manner.
3:97. Then the king promoted Sidrach, Misach, and Abdenago, in the
province of Babylon.
3:98. Nabuchodonosor, the king, to all peoples, nations, and tongues,
that dwell in all the earth, peace be multiplied unto you.
Nabuchodonosor, etc. . .These last three verses are a kind of preface to
the following chapter, which is written in the style of an epistle from
3:99. The most high God hath wrought signs and wonders towards me.  It
hath seemed good to me, therefore, to publish
3:100. His signs, because they are great:  and his wonders, because they
are mighty:  and his kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and his power to
all generations.
Daniel Chapter 4
Nabuchodonosor's dream, by which the judgments of God are denounced
against him for his pride, is interpreted by Daniel, and verified by
4:1. I, Nabuchodonosor, was at rest in my house, and flourishing in my
4:2. I saw a dream that affrighted me:  and my thoughts in my bed, and
the visions of my head, troubled me.
4:3. Then I set forth a decree, that all the wise men of Babylon should
be brought in before me, and that they should shew me the
interpretation of the dream.
4:4. Then came in the diviners, the wise men, the Chaldeans, and the
soothsayers, and I told the dream before them:  but they did not shew me
the interpretation thereof.
4:5. Till their colleague, Daniel, came in before me, whose name is
Baltassar, according to the name of my god, who hath in him the spirit
of the holy gods:  and I told the dream before him.
Baltassar, according to the name of my god. . .He says this, because the
name of Baltassar, or Belteshazzar, is derived from the name of Bel,
the chief god of the Babylonians.
4:6. Baltassar, prince of the diviners, because I know that thou hast
in thee the spirit of the holy gods, and that no secret is impossible
to thee, tell me the visions of my dreams that I have seen, and the
interpretation of them?
4:7. This was the vision of my head in my bed:  I saw, and behold a tree
in the midst of the earth, and the height thereof was exceeding great.
4:8. The tree was great and strong, and the height thereof reached unto
heaven:  the sight thereof was even to the ends of all the earth.
4:9. Its leaves were most beautiful, and its fruit exceeding much:  and
in it was food for all:  under it dwelt cattle and beasts, and in the
branches thereof the fowls of the air had their abode:  and all flesh
did eat of it.
4:10. I saw in the vision of my head upon my bed, and behold a watcher,
and a holy one came down from heaven.
A watcher. . .A vigilant angel, perhaps the guardian of Israel.
4:11. He cried aloud, and said thus:  Cut down the tree, and chop off
the branches thereof:  shake off its leaves, and scatter its fruits:  let
the beasts fly away that are under it, and the birds from its branches.
4:12. Nevertheless, leave the stump of its roots in the earth, and let
it be tied with a band of iron and of brass, among the grass, that is
without, and let it be wet with the dew of heaven, and let its portion
be with the wild beasts in the grass of the earth.
4:13. Let his heart be changed from man's, and let a beast's heart be
given him:  and let seven times pass over him.
Let his heart be changed, etc. . .It does not appear by scripture that
Nabuchodonosor was changed from human shape; much less that he was
changed into an ox; but only that he lost his reason, and became mad;
and in this condition remained abroad in the company of beasts, eating
grass like an ox, till his hair grew in such manner as to resemble the
feathers of eagles, and his nails to be like birds' claws.
4:14. This is the decree by the sentence of the watchers, and the word
and demand of the holy ones:  till the living know, that the most High
ruleth in the kingdom of men:  and he will give it to whomsoever it
shall please him, and he will appoint the basest man over it.
4:15. I, king Nabuchodonosor, saw this dream:  thou, therefore, O
Baltassar, tell me quickly the interpretation:  for all the wise men of
my kingdom are not able to declare the meaning of it to me:  but thou
art able, because the spirit of the holy gods is in thee.
4:16. Then Daniel, whose name was Baltassar, began silently to think
within himself for about one hour:  and his thought troubled him.  But
the king answering, said:  Baltassar, let not the dream and the
interpretation thereof trouble thee.  Baltassar answered, and said:  My
lord, the dream be to them that hate thee, and the interpretation
thereof to thy enemies.
4:17. The tree which thou sawest, which was high and strong, whose
height reached to the skies, and the sight thereof into all the earth:
4:18. And the branches thereof were most beautiful, and its fruit
exceeding much, and in it was food for all, under which the beasts of
the field dwelt, and the birds of the air had their abode in its
4:19. It is thou, O king, who art grown great, and become mighty:  for
thy greatness hath grown, and hath reached to heaven, and thy power
unto the ends of the earth.
4:20. And whereas the king saw a watcher, and a holy one come down from
heaven, and say:  Cut down the tree, and destroy it, but leave the stump
of the roots thereof in the earth, and let it be bound with iron and
brass, among the grass without, and let it be sprinkled with the dew of
heaven, and let his feeding be with the wild beasts, till seven times
pass over him.
4:21. This is the interpretation of the sentence of the most High,
which is come upon my lord, the king.
4:22. They shall cast thee out from among men, and thy dwelling shall
be with cattle, and with wild beasts, and thou shalt eat grass, as an
ox, and shalt be wet with the dew of heaven:  and seven times shall pass
over thee, till thou know that the most High ruleth over the kingdom of
men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will.
4:23. But whereas he commanded, that the stump of the roots thereof,
that is, of the tree, should be left:  thy kingdom shall remain to thee,
after thou shalt have known that power is from heaven.
4:24. Wherefore, O king, let my counsel be acceptable to thee, and
redeem thou thy sins with alms, and thy iniquities with works of mercy
to the poor:  perhaps he will forgive thy offences.
4:25. All these things came upon king Nabuchodonosor.
4:26. At the end of twelve months he was walking in the palace of
4:27. And the king answered, and said:  Is not this the great Babylon,
which I have built, to be the seat of the kingdom, by the strength of
my power, and in the glory of my excellence?
4:28. And while the word was yet in the king's mouth, a voice came down
from heaven:  To thee, O king Nabuchodonosor, it is said:  Thy kingdom
shall pass from thee.
4:29. And they shall cast thee out from among men, and thy dwelling
shall be with cattle and wild beasts:  thou shalt eat grass like an ox,
and seven times shall pass over thee, till thou know that the most High
ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will.
4:30. The same hour the word was fulfilled upon Nabuchodonosor, and he
was driven away from among men, and did eat grass, like an ox, and his
body was wet with the dew of heaven:  till his hairs grew like the
feathers of eagles, and his nails like birds' claws.
4:31. Now at the end of the days, I, Nabuchodonosor, lifted up my eyes
to heaven, and my sense was restored to me:  and I blessed the most
High, and I praised and glorified him that liveth for ever:  for his
power is an everlasting power, and his kingdom is to all generations.
4:32. And all the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing
before him:  for he doth according to his will, as well with the powers
of heaven, as among the inhabitants of the earth:  and there is none
that can resist his hand, and say to him:  Why hast thou done it?
4:33. At the same time my sense returned to me, and I came to the
honour and glory of my kingdom:  and my shape returned to me:  and my
nobles, and my magistrates, sought for me, and I was restored to my
kingdom:  and greater majesty was added to me.
4:34. Therefore I, Nabuchodonosor, do now praise, and magnify, and
glorify the King of heaven:  because all his works are true, and his
ways judgments, and them that walk in pride he is able to abase.
I, Nabuchodonosor, do now, etc. . .From this place some commentators
infer that this king became a true convert, and dying not long after,
was probably saved.
Daniel Chapter 5
Baltasar's profane banquet:  his sentence is denounced by a handwriting
on the wall, which Daniel reads and interprets.
5:1. Baltasar, the king, made a great feast for a thousand of his
nobles:  and every one drank according to his age.
Baltasar. . .He is believed to be the same as Nabonydus, the last of the
Chaldean kings, grandson to Nabuchodonosor.  He is called his son, ver.
2, 11, etc., according to the style of the scriptures, because he was a
descendant from him.
5:2. And being now drunk, he commanded that they should bring the
vessels of gold and silver, which Nabuchodonosor, his father, had
brought away out of the temple, that was in Jerusalem, that the king
and his nobles, and his wives, and his concubines, might drink in them.
5:3. Then were the golden and silver vessels brought, which he had
brought away out of the temple that was in Jerusalem:  and the king and
his nobles, his wives, and his concubines, drank in them.
5:4. They drank wine, and praised their gods of gold, and of silver, of
brass, of iron, and of wood, and of stone.
5:5. In the same hour there appeared fingers, as it were of the hand of
a man, writing over against the candlestick, upon the surface of the
wall of the king's palace:  and the king beheld the joints of the hand
5:6. Then was the king's countenance changed, and his thoughts troubled
him:  and the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees struck one
against the other.
5:7. And the king cried out aloud to bring in the wise men, the
Chaldeans, and the soothsayers.  And the king spoke, and said to the
wise men of Babylon:  Whosoever shall read this writing, and shall make
known to me the interpretation thereof, shall be clothed with purple,
and shall have a golden chain on his neck, and shall be the third man
in my kingdom.
5:8. Then came in all the king's wise men, but they could neither read
the writing, nor declare the interpretation to the king.
5:9. Wherewith king Baltasar was much troubled, and his countenance was
changed:  and his nobles also were troubled.
5:10. Then the queen, on occasion of what had happened to the king, and
his nobles, came into the banquet-house:  and she spoke, and said:  O
king, live for ever:  let not thy thoughts trouble thee, neither let thy
countenance be changed.
The queen. . .Not the wife, but the mother of the king.
5:11. There is a man in thy kingdom that hath the spirit of the holy
gods in him:  and in the days of thy father knowledge and wisdom were
found in him:  for king Nabuchodonosor, thy father, appointed him prince
of the wise men, enchanters, Chaldeans, and soothsayers, thy father, I
say, O king:
5:12. Because a greater spirit, and knowledge, and understanding, and
interpretation of dreams, and shewing of secrets, and resolving of
difficult things, were found in him, that is, in Daniel:  whom the king
named Baltassar.  Now, therefore, let Daniel be called for, and he will
tell the interpretation.
5:13. Then Daniel was brought in before the king.  And the king spoke,
and said to him:  Art thou Daniel, of the children of the captivity of
Juda, whom my father, the king, brought out of Judea?
5:14. I have heard of thee, that thou hast the spirit of the gods, and
excellent knowledge, and understanding, and wisdom are found in thee.
5:15. And now the wise men, the magicians, have come in before me, to
read this writing, and shew me the interpretation thereof; and they
could not declare to me the meaning of this writing.
5:16. But I have heard of thee, that thou canst interpret obscure
things, and resolve difficult things:  now if thou art able to read the
writing, and to shew me the interpretation thereof, thou shalt be
clothed with purple, and shalt have a chain of gold about thy neck, and
shalt be the third prince in my kingdom.
5:17. To which Daniel made answer, and said before the king:  thy
rewards be to thyself, and the gifts of thy house give to another:  but
the writing I will read to thee, O king, and shew thee the
interpretation thereof.
5:18. O king, the most high God gave to Nabuchodonosor, thy father, a
kingdom, and greatness, and glory, and honour.
5:19. And for the greatness that he gave to him, all people, tribes,
and languages trembled, and were afraid of him:  whom he would, he slew:
and whom he would, he destroyed:  and whom he would, he set up:  and whom
he would, he brought down.
5:20. But when his heart was lifted up, and his spirit hardened unto
pride, he was put down from the throne of his kingdom, and his glory
was taken away.
5:21. And he was driven out from the sons of men, and his heart was
made like the beasts, and his dwelling was with the wild asses, and he
did eat grass like an ox, and his body was wet with the dew of heaven:
till he knew that the most High ruled in the kingdom of men, and that
he will set over it whomsoever it shall please him.
5:22. Thou also, his son, O Baltasar, hast not humbled thy heart,
whereas thou knewest all these things:
5:23. But hast lifted thyself up against the Lord of heaven:  and the
vessels of his house have been brought before thee:  and thou, and thy
nobles, and thy wives, and thy concubines, have drunk wine in them:  and
thou hast praised the gods of silver, and of gold, and of brass, of
iron, and of wood, and of stone, that neither see, nor hear, nor feel:
but the God who hath thy breath in his hand, and all thy ways, thou
hast not glorified.
5:24. Wherefore, he hath sent the part of the hand which hath written
this that is set down.
5:25. And this is the writing that is written:  MANE, THECEL, PHARES.
5:26. And this is the interpretation of the word.  MANE:  God hath
numbered thy kingdom, and hath finished it.
5:27. THECEL:  thou art weighed in the balance, and art found wanting.
5:28. PHARES:  thy kingdom is divided, and is given to the Medes and
5:29. Then by the king's command, Daniel was clothed with purple, and a
chain of gold was put about his neck:  and it was proclaimed of him that
he had power as the third man in the kingdom.
5:30. The same night Baltasar, the Chaldean king, was slain.
5:31. And Darius, the Mede, succeeded to the kingdom, being threescore
and two years old.
Darius. . .He is called Cyaxares by the historians; and was the son of
Astyages, and uncle to Cyrus.
Daniel Chapter 6
Daniel is promoted by Darius:  his enemies procure a law forbidding
prayer; for the transgression of this law Daniel is cast into the
lions' den:  but miraculously delivered.
6:1. It seemed good to Darius, and he appointed over the kingdom a
hundred and twenty governors, to be over his whole kingdom.
6:2. And three princes over them of whom Daniel was one:  that the
governors might give an account to them, and the king might have no
6:3. And Daniel excelled all the princes, and governors:  because a
greater spirit of God was in him.
6:4. And the king thought to set him over all the kingdom; whereupon
the princes, and the governors, sought to find occasion against Daniel,
with regard to the king:  and they could find no cause, nor suspicion,
because he was faithful, and no fault, nor suspicion was found in him.
6:5. Then these men said:  We shall not find any occasion against this
Daniel, unless perhaps concerning the law of his God.
6:6. Then the princes, and the governors, craftily suggested to the
king, and spoke thus unto him:  King Darius, live for ever:
6:7. All the princes of the kingdom, the magistrates, and governors,
the senators, and judges, have consulted together, that an imperial
decree, and an edict be published:  That whosoever shall ask any
petition of any god, or man, for thirty days, but of thee, O king,
shall be cast into the den of the lions.
6:8. Now, therefore, O king, confirm the sentence, and sign the decree:
that what is decreed by the Medes and Persians may not be altered, nor
any man be allowed to transgress it.
6:9. So king Darius set forth the decree, and established it.
6:10. Now, when Daniel knew this, that is to say, that the law was
made, he went into his house:  and opening the windows in his upper
chamber towards Jerusalem, he knelt down three times a day, and adored
and gave thanks before his God, as he had been accustomed to do before.
6:11. Wherefore those men carefully watching him, found Daniel praying
and making supplication to his God.
6:12. And they came and spoke to the king concerning the edict:  O king,
hast thou not decreed, that every man that should make a request to any
of the gods, or men, for thirty days, but to thyself, O king, should be
cast into the den of the lions?  And the king answered them, saying:  The
word is true, according to the decree of the Medes and Persians, which
it is not lawful to violate.
6:13. Then they answered, and said before the king:  Daniel, who is of
the children of the captivity of Juda, hath not regarded thy law, nor
the decree that thou hast made:  but three times a day he maketh his
6:14. Now when the king had heard these words, he was very much
grieved, and in behalf of Daniel he set his heart to deliver him, and
even till sunset he laboured to save him.
6:15. But those men perceiving the king's design, said to him:  Know
thou, O king, that the law of the Medes and Persians is, that no decree
which the king hath made, may be altered.
6:16. Then the king commanded, and they brought Daniel, and cast him
into the den of the lions.  And the king said to Daniel:  Thy God, whom
thou always servest, he will deliver thee.
6:17. And a stone was brought, and laid upon the mouth of the den:
which the king sealed with his own ring, and with the ring of his
nobles, that nothing should be done against Daniel.
6:18. And the king went away to his house, and laid himself down
without taking supper, and meat was not set before him, and even sleep
departed from him.
6:19. Then the king rising very early in the morning, went in haste to
the lions' den:
6:20. And coming near to the den, cried with a lamentable voice to
Daniel, and said to him:  Daniel, servant of the living God, hath thy
God, whom thou servest always, been able, thinkest thou, to deliver
thee from the lions?
6:21. And Daniel answering the king, said:  O king, live for ever:
6:22. My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut up the mouths of the
lions, and they have not hurt me:  forasmuch as before him justice hath
been found in me:  yea, and before thee, O king, I have done no offence.
6:23. Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and he commanded that
Daniel should be taken out of the den:  and Daniel was taken out of the
den, and no hurt was found in him, because he believed in his God.
6:24. And by the king's commandment, those men were brought that had
accused Daniel:  and they were cast into the lions' den, they and their
children, and their wives:  and they did not reach the bottom of the
den, before the lions caught them, and broke all their bones in pieces.
6:25. Then king Darius wrote to all people, tribes, and languages,
dwelling in the whole earth:  PEACE be multiplied unto you.
6:26. It is decreed by me, that in all my empire and my kingdom, all
men dread and fear the God of Daniel.  For he is the living and eternal
God for ever:  and his kingdom shall not be destroyed, and his power
shall be for ever.
6:27. He is the deliverer, and saviour, doing signs and wonders in
heaven, and in earth:  who hath delivered Daniel out of the lions' den.
6:28. Now Daniel continued unto the reign of Darius, and the reign of
Cyrus, the Persian.
Daniel Chapter 7
Daniel's vision of the four beasts, signifying four kingdoms:  of God
sitting on his throne:  and of the opposite kingdoms of Christ and
7:1. In the first year of Baltasar, king of Babylon, Daniel saw a
dream:  and the vision of his head was upon his bed:  and writing the
dream, he comprehended it in a few words:  and relating the sum of it in
short, he said:
7:2. I saw in my vision by night, and behold the four winds of the
heavens strove upon the great sea.
7:3. And four great beasts, different one from another, came up out of
Four great beasts. . .Viz., the Chaldean, Persian, Grecian, and Roman
empires.  But some rather choose to understand the fourth beast of the
successors of Alexander the Great, more especially of them that reigned
in Asia and Syria.
7:4. The first was like a lioness, and had the wings of an eagle:  I
beheld till her wings were plucked off, and she was lifted up from the
earth, and stood upon her feet as a man, and the heart of a man was
given to her.
7:5. And behold another beast, like a bear, stood up on one side:  and
there were three rows in the mouth thereof, and in the teeth thereof,
and thus they said to it:  Arise, devour much flesh.
7:6. After this I beheld, and lo, another like a leopard, and it had
upon it four wings, as of a fowl, and the beast had four heads, and
power was given to it.
7:7. After this I beheld in the vision of the night, and lo, a fourth
beast, terrible and wonderful, and exceeding strong, it had great iron
teeth, eating and breaking in pieces, and treading down the rest with
his feet:  and it was unlike to the other beasts which I had seen before
it, and had ten horns.
Ten horns. . .That is, ten kingdoms, (as Apoc. 17.12,) among which the
empire of the fourth beast shall be parcelled.  Or ten kings of the
number of the successors of Alexander; as figures of such as shall be
about the time of Antichrist.
7:8. I considered the horns, and behold another little horn sprung out
of the midst of them:  and three of the first horns were plucked up at
the presence thereof:  and behold eyes like the eyes of a man were in
this horn, and a mouth speaking great things.
Another little horn. . .This is commonly understood of Antichrist.  It
may also be applied to that great persecutor Antiochus Epiphanes, as a
figure of Antichrist.
7:9. I beheld till thrones were placed, and the ancient of days sat:
his garment was white as snow, and the hair of his head like clean
wool:  his throne like flames of fire:  the wheels of it like a burning
7:10. A swift stream of fire issued forth from before him:  thousands of
thousands ministered to him, and ten thousand times a hundred thousand
stood before him:  the judgment sat, and the books were opened.
7:11. I beheld, because of the voice of the great words which that horn
spoke:  and I saw that the beast was slain, and the body thereof was
destroyed, and given to the fire to be burnt:
7:12. And that the power of the other beasts was taken away:  and that
times of life were appointed them for a time, and a time.
7:13. I beheld, therefore, in the vision of the night, and lo, one like
the Son of man came with the clouds of heaven, and he came even to the
ancient of days:  and they presented him before him.
7:14. And he gave him power, and glory, and a kingdom:  and all peoples,
tribes, and tongues shall serve him:  his power is an everlasting power
that shall not be taken away:  and his kingdom that shall not be
7:15. My spirit trembled; I, Daniel, was affrighted at these things,
and the visions of my head troubled me.
7:16. I went near to one of them that stood by, and asked the truth of
him concerning all these things, and he told me the interpretation of
the words, and instructed me:
7:17. These four great beasts, are four kingdoms, which shall arise out
of the earth.
7:18. But the saints of the most high God shall take the kingdom:  and
they shall possess the kingdom for ever and ever.
7:19. After this I would diligently learn concerning the fourth beast,
which was very different from all, and exceeding terrible:  his teeth
and claws were of iron:  he devoured and broke in pieces, and the rest
he stamped upon with his feet:
7:20. And concerning the ten horns that he had on his head:  and
concerning the other that came up, before which three horns fell:  and
of that horn that had eyes, and a mouth speaking great things, and was
greater than the rest.
7:21. I beheld, and lo, that horn made war against the saints, and
prevailed over them,
7:22. Till the ancient of days came and gave judgment to the saints of
the most High, and the time came, and the saints obtained the kingdom.
7:23. And thus he said:  The fourth beast shall be the fourth kingdom
upon earth, which shall be greater than all the kingdoms, and shall
devour the whole earth, and shall tread it down, and break it in
7:24. And the ten horns of the same kingdom, shall be ten kings:  and
another shall rise up after them, and he shall be mightier than the
former, and he shall bring down three kings.
7:25. And he shall speak words against the High One, and shall crush
the saints of the most High:  and he shall think himself able to change
times and laws, and they shall be delivered into his hand until a time,
and times, and half a time.
A time, and times, and half a time. . .That is, three years and a half;
which is supposed to be the length of the duration of the persecution
of Antichrist.
7:26. And a judgment shall sit, that his power may be taken away, and
be broken in pieces, and perish even to the end.
7:27. And that the kingdom, and power, and the greatness of the
kingdom, under the whole heaven, may be given to the people of the
saints of the most High:  whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and
all kings shall serve him, and shall obey him.
7:28. Hitherto is the end of the word.  I, Daniel, was much troubled
with my thoughts, and my countenance was changed in me:  but I kept the
word in my heart.
Daniel Chapter 8
Daniel's vision of the ram and the he goat interpreted by the angel
8:1. In the third year of the reign of king Baltasar, a vision appeared
to me.  I, Daniel, after what I had seen in the beginning,
8:2. Saw in my vision when I was in the castle of Susa, which is in the
province of Elam:  and I saw in the vision that I was over the gate of
8:3. And I lifted up my eyes, and saw:  and behold a ram stood before
the water, having two high horns, and one higher than the other, and
growing up.  Afterward
A ram. . .The empire of the Medes and Persians.
8:4. I saw the ram pushing with his horns against the west, and against
the north, and against the south:  and no beasts could withstand him,
nor be delivered out of his hand:  and he did according to his own will,
and became great.
8:5. And I understood:  and behold a he goat came from the west on the
face of the whole earth, and he touched not the ground, and the he goat
had a notable horn between his eyes.
A he goat. . .The empire of the Greeks, or Macedonians.  Ibid.  He
touched not the ground. . .He conquered all before him, with so much
rapidity, that he seemed rather to fly, than to walk upon the
earth.--Ibid.  A notable horn. . .Alexander the Great.
8:6. And he went up to the ram that had the horns, which I had seen
standing before the gate, and he ran towards him in the force of his
8:7. And when he was come near the ram, he was enraged against him, and
struck the ram:  and broke his two horns, and the ram could not
withstand him:  and when he had cast him down on the ground, he stamped
upon him, and none could deliver the ram out of his hand.
8:8. And the he goat became exceeding great:  and when he was grown, the
great horn was broken, and there came up four horns under it towards
the four winds of heaven.
Four horns. . .Seleucus, Antigonus, Philip, and Ptolemeus, the
successors of Alexander, who divided his empire among them.
8:9. And out of one of them came forth a little horn:  and it became
great against the south, and against the east, and against the
A little horn. . .Antiochus Epiphanes, a descendant of Seleucus.  He grew
against the south, and the east, by his victories over the kings of
Egypt and Armenia:  and against the strength, that is, against Jerusalem
and the people of God.
8:10. And it was magnified even unto the strength of heaven:  and it
threw down of the strength, and of the stars, and trod upon them.
Unto the strength of heaven. . .or, against the strength of heaven.  So
are here called the army of the Jews, the people of God.
8:11. And it was magnified even to the prince of the strength:  and it
took away from him the continual sacrifice, and cast down the place of
his sanctuary.
8:12. And strength was given him against the continual sacrifice,
because of sins:  and truth shall be cast down on the ground, and he
shall do and shall prosper.
8:13. And I heard one of the saints speaking, and one saint said to
another I know not to whom, that was speaking:  How long shall be the
vision, concerning the continual sacrifice, and the sin of the
desolation that is made:  and the sanctuary, and the strength be trodden
8:14. And he said to him:  Unto evening and morning two thousand three
hundred days:  and the sanctuary shall be cleansed.
Unto evening and morning two thousand three hundred days. . .That is,
six years and almost four months:  which was the whole time from the
beginning of the persecution of Antiochus till his death.
8:15. And it came to pass when I, Daniel, saw the vision, and sought
the meaning, that behold there stood before me as it were the
appearance of a man.
8:16. And I heard the voice of a man between Ulai:  and he called, and
said:  Gabriel, make this man to understand the vision.
8:17. And he came, and stood near where I stood:  and when he was come,
I fell on my face, trembling, and he said to me:  Understand, O son of
man, for in the time of the end the vision shall be fulfilled.
8:18. And when he spoke to me, I fell flat on the ground:  and he
touched me, and set me upright.
8:19. And he said to me:  I will shew thee what things are to come to
pass in the end of the malediction:  for the time hath its end.
8:20. The ram, which thou sawest with horns, is the king of the Medes
and Persians.
8:21. And the he goat, is the king of the Greeks, and the great horn
that was between his eyes, the same is the first king.
8:22. But whereas when that was broken, there arose up four for it,
four kings shall rise up of his nation, but not with his strength.
8:23. And after their reign, when iniquities shall be grown up, there
shall arise a king of a shameless face, and understanding dark
8:24. And his power shall be strengthened, but not by his own force:
and he shall lay all things waste, and shall prosper, and do more than
can be believed.  And he shall destroy the mighty, and the people of the
8:25. According to his will, and craft shall be successful in his hand:
and his heart shall be puffed up, and in the abundance of all things he
shall kill many:  and he shall rise up against the prince of princes,
and shall be broken without hand.
8:26. And the vision of the evening and the morning, which was told, is
true:  thou, therefore, seal up the vision, because it shall come to
pass after many days.
8:27. And I, Daniel, languished, and was sick for some days:  and when I
was risen up, I did the king's business, and I was astonished at the
vision, and there was none that could interpret it.
Daniel Chapter 9
Daniel's confession and prayer:  Gabriel informs him concerning the
seventy weeks to the coming of Christ.
9:1. In the first year of Darius, the son of Assuerus, of the seed of
the Medes, who reigned over the kingdom of the Chaldeans:
9:2. The first year of his reign I, Daniel, understood by books the
number of the years, concerning which the word of the Lord came to
Jeremias, the prophet, that seventy years should be accomplished of the
desolation of Jerusalem.
9:3. And I set my face to the Lord, my God, to pray and make
supplication with fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes.
9:4. And I prayed to the Lord, my God, and I made my confession, and
said:  I beseech thee, O Lord God, great and terrible, who keepest the
covenant, and mercy to them that love thee, and keep thy commandments.
9:5. We have sinned, we have committed iniquity, we have done wickedly,
and have revolted:  and we have gone aside from thy commandments, and
thy judgments.
9:6. We have not hearkened to thy servants, the prophets, that have
spoken in thy name to our kings, to our princes, to our fathers, and to
all the people of the land.
9:7. To thee, O Lord, justice:  but to us confusion of face, as at this
day to the men of Juda, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and to all
Israel, to them that are near, and to them that are far off, in all the
countries whither thou hast driven them, for their iniquities, by which
they have sinned against thee.
9:8. O Lord, to us belongeth confusion of face, to our princes, and to
our fathers, that have sinned.
9:9. But to thee, the Lord our God, mercy and forgiveness, for we have
departed from thee:
9:10. And we have not hearkened to the voice of the Lord, our God, to
walk in his law, which he set before us by his servants, the prophets.
9:11. And all Israel have transgressed thy law, and have turned away
from hearing thy voice, and the malediction, and the curse, which is
written in the book of Moses, the servant of God, is fallen upon us,
because we have sinned against him.
9:12. And he hath confirmed his words which he spoke against us, and
against our princes that judged us, that he would bring in upon us a
great evil, such as never was under all the heaven, according to that
which hath been done in Jerusalem.
9:13. As it is written in the law of Moses, all this evil is come upon
us:  and we entreated not thy face, O Lord our God, that we might turn
from our iniquities, and think on thy truth.
9:14. And the Lord hath watched upon the evil, and hath brought it upon
us:  the Lord, our God, is just in all his works which he hath done:  for
we have not hearkened to his voice.
9:15. And now, O Lord, our God, who hast brought forth thy people out
of the land of Egypt, with a strong hand, and hast made thee a name as
at this day:  we have sinned, we have committed iniquity,
9:16. O Lord, against all thy justice:  let thy wrath and thy
indignation be turned away, I beseech thee, from thy city, Jerusalem,
and from thy holy mountain.  For by reason of our sins, and the
iniquities of our fathers, Jerusalem, and thy people, are a reproach to
all that are round about us.
9:17. Now, therefore, O our God, hear the supplication of thy servant,
and his prayers:  and shew thy face upon thy sanctuary, which is
desolate, for thy own sake.
9:18. Incline, O my God, thy ear, and hear:  open thy eyes, and see our
desolation, and the city upon which thy name is called:  for it is not
for our justifications that we present our prayers before thy face, but
for the multitude of thy tender mercies.
9:19. O Lord, hear:  O Lord, be appeased:  hearken, and do:  delay not,
for thy own sake, O my God:  because thy name is invocated upon thy
city, and upon thy people.
9:20. Now while I was yet speaking, and praying, and confessing my
sins, and the sins of my people of Israel, and presenting my
supplications in the sight of my God, for the holy mountain of my God:
9:21. As I was yet speaking in prayer, behold the man, Gabriel, whom I
had seen in the vision at the beginning, flying swiftly, touched me at
the time of the evening sacrifice.
The man Gabriel. . .The angel Gabriel in the shape of a man.
9:22. And he instructed me, and spoke to me, and said:  O Daniel, I am
now come forth to teach thee, and that thou mightest understand.
9:23. From the beginning of thy prayers the word came forth:  and I am
come to shew it to thee, because thou art a man of desires:  therefore,
do thou mark the word, and understand the vision.
Man of desires. . .that is, ardently praying for the Jews then in
9:24. Seventy weeks are shortened upon thy people, and upon thy holy
city, that transgression may be finished, and sin may have an end, and
iniquity may be abolished; and everlasting justice may be brought; and
vision and prophecy may be fulfilled; and the Saint of saints may be
Seventy weeks. . .Viz., of years, (or seventy times seven, that is, 490
years,) are shortened; that is, fixed and determined, so that the time
shall be no longer.
9:25. Know thou, therefore, and take notice:  that from the going forth
of the word, to build up Jerusalem again, unto Christ, the prince,
there shall be seven weeks, and sixty-two weeks:  and the street shall
be built again, and the walls, in straitness of times.
From the going forth of the word, etc. . .That is, from the twentieth
year of king Artaxerxes, when by his commandment Nehemias rebuilt the
walls of Jerusalem, 2 Esd. 2.  From which time, according to the best
chronology, there were just sixty-nine weeks of years, that is, 483
years to the baptism of Christ, when he first began to preach and
execute the office of Messias.--Ibid.  In straitness of
times. . .angustia temporum:  which may allude both to the difficulties
and opposition they met with in building:  and to the shortness of the
time in which they finished the wall, viz., fifty-two days.
9:26. And after sixty-two weeks Christ shall be slain:  and the people
that shall deny him shall not be his.  And a people, with their leader,
that shall come, shall destroy the city, and the sanctuary:  and the end
thereof shall be waste, and after the end of the war the appointed
A people with their leader. . .The Romans under Titus.
9:27. And he shall confirm the covenant with many, in one week:  and in
the half of the week the victim and the sacrifice shall fail:  and there
shall be in the temple the abomination of desolation:  and the
desolation shall continue even to the consummation, and to the end.
In the half of the week. . .or, in the middle of the week, etc.  Because
Christ preached three years and a half:  and then by his sacrifice upon
the cross abolished all the sacrifices of the law.--Ibid.  The
abomination of desolation. . .Some understand this of the profanation of
the temple by the crimes of the Jews, and by the bloody faction of the
zealots.  Others of the bringing in thither the ensigns and standard of
the pagan Romans.  Others, in fine, distinguish three different times of
desolation:  viz., that under Antiochus; that when the temple was
destroyed by the Romans; and the last near the end of the world under
Antichrist.  To all which, as they suppose, this prophecy may have a
Daniel Chapter 10
Daniel having humbled himself by fasting and penance seeth a vision,
with which he is much terrified; but he is comforted by an angel.
10:1. In the third year of Cyrus, king of the Persians, a word was
revealed to Daniel, surnamed Baltassar, and a true word, and great
strength:  and he understood the word:  for there is need of
understanding in a vision.
10:2. In those days I, Daniel, mourned the days of three weeks.
10:3. I ate no desirable bread, and neither flesh, nor wine, entered
into my mouth, neither was I anointed with ointment:  till the days of
three weeks were accomplished.
10:4. And in the four and twentieth day of the first month, I was by
the great river, which is the Tigris.
10:5. And I lifted up my eyes, and I saw:  and behold a man clothed in
linen, and his loins were girded with the finest gold:
10:6. And his body was like the chrysolite, and his face as the
appearance of lightning, and his eyes as a burning lamp:  and his arms,
and all downward even to the feet, like in appearance to glittering
brass:  and the voice of his word like the voice of a multitude.
10:7. And I, Daniel alone, saw the vision:  for the men that were with
me saw it not:  but an exceeding great terror fell upon them, and they
fled away, and hid themselves.
10:8. And I, being left alone, saw this great vision:  and there
remained no strength in me, and the appearance of my countenance was
changed in me, and I fainted away, and retained no strength.
10:9. And I heard the voice of his words:  and when I heard I lay in a
consternation upon my face, and my face was close to the ground.
10:10. And behold a hand touched me, and lifted me up upon my knees,
and upon the joints of my hands.
10:11. And he said to me:  Daniel, thou man of desires, understand the
words that I speak to thee, and stand upright:  for I am sent now to
thee.  And when he had said this word to me, I stood trembling.
10:12. And he said to me:  Fear not, Daniel:  for from the first day that
thou didst set thy heart to understand, to afflict thyself in the sight
of thy God, thy words have been heard:  and I am come for thy words.
10:13. But the prince of the kingdom of the Persians resisted me one
and twenty days:  and behold Michael, one of the chief princes, came to
help me, and I remained there by the king of the Persians.
The prince, etc. . .That is, the angel guardian of Persia:  who according
to his office, seeking the spiritual good of the Persians was desirous
that many of the Jews should remain among them.
10:14. But I am come to teach thee what things shall befall thy people
in the latter days, for as yet the vision is for days.
10:15. And when he was speaking such words to me, I cast down my
countenance to the ground, and held my peace.
10:16. And behold as it were the likeness of a son of man touched my
lips:  then I opened my mouth and spoke, and said to him that stood
before me:  O my lord, at the sight of thee my joints are loosed, and no
strength hath remained in me.
10:17. And how can the servant of my lord speak with my lord?  for no
strength remaineth in me; moreover, my breath is stopped.
10:18. Therefore, he that looked like a man, touched me again, and
strengthened me.
10:19. And he said:  Fear not, O man of desires, peace be to thee:  take
courage, and be strong.  And when he spoke to me, I grew strong, and I
said:  Speak, O my lord, for thou hast strengthened me.
10:20. And he said:  Dost thou know wherefore I am come to thee?  And now
I will return, to fight against the prince of the Persians.  When I went
forth, there appeared the prince of the Greeks coming.
10:21. But I will tell thee what is set down in the scripture of truth:
and none is my helper in all these things, but Michael your prince.
Michael your prince. . .The guardian general of the church of God.
Daniel Chapter 11
The angel declares to Daniel many things to come, with regard to the
Persian and Grecian kings:  more especially with regard to Antiochus as
a figure of Antichrist.
11:1. And from the first year of Darius, the Mede, I stood up, that he
might be strengthened, and confirmed.
11:2. And now I will shew thee the truth.  Behold, there shall stand yet
three kings in Persia, and the fourth shall be enriched exceedingly
above them all:  and when he shall be grown mighty by his riches, he
shall stir up all against the kingdom of Greece.
Three kings. . .Viz., Cambyses, Smerdes Magus, and Darius, the son of
Hystaspes.--Ibid.  The fourth. . .Xerxes.
11:3. But there shall rise up a strong king, and shall rule with great
power:  and he shall do what he pleaseth.
A strong king. . .Alexander.
11:4. And when he shall come to his height, his kingdom shall be
broken, and it shall be divided towards the four winds of the heaven:
but not to his posterity, nor according to his power with which he
ruled.  For his kingdom shall be rent in peices, even for strangers,
besides these.
11:5. And the king of the south shall be strengthened, and one of his
princes shall prevail over him, and he shall rule with great power:  for
his dominions shall be great.
The king of the south. . .Ptolemeus the son of Lagus, king of Egypt,
which lies south of Jerusalem.--Ibid.  One of his princes. . .that is,
one of Alexander's princes, shall prevail over him:  that is, shall be
stronger than the king of Egypt.  He speaks of Seleucus Nicator, king of
Asia and Syria, whose successors are here called the kings of the
north, because their dominions lay to the north in respect to
11:6. And after the end of years they shall be in league together:  and
the daughter of the king of the south shall come to the king of the
north to make friendship, but she shall not obtain the strength of the
arm, neither shall her seed stand:  and she shall be given up, and her
young men that brought her, and they that strengthened her in these
The daughter of the king of the south. . .Viz., Berenice, daughter of
Ptolemeus Philadelphus, given in marriage to Antiochus Theos, grandson
of Seleucus.
11:7. And a plant of the bud of her roots shall stand up:  and he shall
come with an army, and shall enter into the province of the king of the
north:  and he shall abuse them, and shall prevail.
A plant, etc. . .Ptolemeus Evergetes, the son of Philadelphus.
11:8. And he shall also carry away captive into Egypt their gods, and
their graven things, and their precious vessels of gold and silver:  he
shall prevail against the king of the north.
The king of the north. . .Seleucus Callinicus.
11:9. And the king of the south shall enter into the kingdom, and shall
return to his own land.
11:10. And his sons shall be provoked, and they shall assemble a
multitude of great forces:  and he shall come with haste like a flood:
and he shall return, and be stirred up, and he shall join battle with
His sons. . .Seleucus Ceraunius, and Antiochus the Great, the sons of
Callinicus.--Ibid.  He shall come. . .Viz., Antiochus the Great.
11:11. And the king of the south being provoked, shall go forth, and
shall fight against the king of the north, and shall prepare an
exceeding great multitude, and a multitude shall be given into his
The king of the south. . .Ptolemeus Philopator, son of Evergetes.
11:12. And he shall take a multitude, and his heart shall be lifted up,
and he shall cast down many thousands:  but he shall not prevail.
11:13. For the king of the north shall return, and shall prepare a
multitude much greater than before:  and in the end of times, and years,
he shall come in haste with a great army, and much riches.
11:14. And in those times many shall rise up against the king of the
south, and the children of prevaricators of thy people shall lift up
themselves to fulfil the vision, and they shall fall.
11:15. And the king of the north shall come, and shall cast up a mount,
and shall take the best fenced cities:  and the arms of the south shall
not withstand, and his chosen ones shall rise up to resist, and they
shall not have strength.
11:16. And he shall come upon him, and do according to his pleasure,
and there shall be none to stand against his face:  and he shall stand
in the glorious land, and it shall be consumed by his hand.
He shall come upon him. . .Viz., Antiochus shall come upon the king of
the south.--Ibid.  The glorious land. . .Judea.
11:17. And he shall set his face to come to possess all his kingdom,
and he shall make upright conditions with him:  and he shall give him a
daughter of women, to overthrow it:  and she shall not stand, neither
shall she be for him.
All his kingdom. . .Viz., all the kingdom of Ptolemeus Epiphanes, son of
Philopator.--Ibid.  A daughter of women. . .That is, a most beautiful
woman, viz., his daughter Cleopatra.--Ibid.  To overthrow it. . .Viz.,
the kingdom of Epiphanes:  but his policy shall not succeed; for
Cleopatra shall take more to heart the interest of her husband, than that
of her father.
11:18. And he shall turn his face to the islands, and shall take many:
and he shall cause the prince of his reproach to cease, and his
reproach shall be turned upon him.
The prince of his reproach. . .Seipio the Roman general, called the
prince of his reproach, because he overthrew Antiochus, and obliged him
to submit to very dishonourable terms, before he would cease from the
11:19. And he shall turn his face to the empire of his own land, and he
shall stumble, and fall, ans shall not be found.
11:20. And there shall stand up in his place one most vile, and
unworthy of kingly honour:  and in a few days he shall be destroyed, not
in rage nor in battle.
One most vile. . .Seleucus Philopator, who sent Heliodorus to plunder
the temple:  and was shortly after slain by the same Heliodorus.
11:21. And there shall stand up in his place one despised, and the
kingly honour shall not be given him:  and he shall come privately, and
shall obtain the kingdom by fraud.
One despised. . .Viz., Antiochus Epiphanes, who at first was despised
and not received for king.  What is here said of this prince, is
accommodated by St. Jerome and others to Antichrist; of whom this
Antiochus was a figure.
11:22. And the arms of the fighter shall be overcome before his face,
and shall be broken:  yea, also the prince of the covenant.
Of the fighter. . .That is, of them that shall oppose him, and shall
fight against him.--Ibid.  The prince of the covenant. . .or, of the
league.  The chief of them that conspired against him:  or the king of
Egypt his most powerful adversary.
11:23. And after friendships, he will deal deceitfully with him:  and he
shall go up, and shall overcome with a small people.
11:24. And he shall enter into rich and plentiful cities:  and he shall
do that which his fathers never did, nor his fathers' fathers:  he shall
scatter their spoils, and their prey, and their riches, and shall
forecast devices against the best fenced places:  and this until a time.
11:25. And his strength, and his heart, shall be stirred up against the
king of the south, with a great army:  and the king of the south shall
be stirred up to battle with many and very strong succours:  and they
shall not stand, for they shall form designs against him.
The king. . .Ptolemeus Philometor.
11:26. And they that eat bread with him, shall destroy him, and his
army shall be overthrown:  and many shall fall down slain.
11:27. And the heart of the two kings shall be to do evil, and they
shall speak lies at one table, and they shall not prosper:  because as
yet the end is unto another time.
11:28. And he shall return into his land with much riches:  and his
heart shall be against the holy covenant, and he shall succeed, and
shall return into his own land.
11:29. At the time appointed he shall return, and he shall come to the
south, but the latter time shall not be like the former.
11:30. And the galleys and the Romans shall come upon him, and he shall
be struck, and shall return, and shall have indignation against the
covenant of the sanctuary, and he shall succeed:  and he shall return,
and shall devise against them that have forsaken the covenant of the
The galleys and the Romans. . .Popilius, and the other Roman
ambassadors, who came in galleys, and obliged him to depart from Egypt.
11:31. And arms shall stand on his part, and they shall defile the
sanctuary of strength, and shall take away the continual sacrifice:  and
they shall place there the abomination unto desolation.
They shall place there the abomination, etc. . .The idol of Jupiter
Olympius, which Antiochus ordered to be set up in the sanctuary of the
temple:  which is here called the sanctuary of strength, from the
Almighty that was worshipped there.
11:32. And such as deal wickedly against the covenant shall deceitfully
dissemble:  but the people that know their God shall prevail and
11:33. And they that are learned among the people shall teach many:  and
they shall fall by the sword, and by fire, and by captivity, and by
spoil for many days.
11:34. And when they shall have fallen, they shall be relieved with a
small help:  and many shall be joined to them deceitfully.
11:35. And some of the learned shall fall, that they may be tried, and
may be chosen, and made white, even to the appointed time:  because yet
there shall be another time.
11:36. And the king shall do according to his will, and he shall be
lifted up, and shall magnify himself against every god:  and he shall
speak great things against the God of gods, and shall prosper, till the
wrath be accomplished.  For the determination is made.
11:37. And he shall make no account of the God of his fathers:  and he
shall follow the lust of women, and he shall not regard any gods:  for
he shall rise up against all things.
11:38. But he shall worship the god Maozim, in his place:  and a god
whom his fathers knew not, he shall worship with gold, and silver, and
precious stones, and things of great price.
The god Maozim. . .That is, the god of forces or strong holds.
11:39. And he shall do this to fortify Maozim with a strange god, whom
he hath acknowledged, and he shall increase glory, and shall give them
power over many, and shall divide the land gratis.
And he shall increase glory, etc. . .He shall bestow honours, riches and
lands, upon them that shall worship his god.
11:40. And at the time prefixed the king of the south shall fight
against him, and the king of the north shall come against him like a
tempest, with chariots, and with horsemen, and with a great navy, and
he shall enter into the countries, and shall destroy, and pass through.
11:41. And he shall enter into the glorious land, and many shall fall:
and these only shall be saved out of his hand, Edom, and Moab, and the
principality of the children of Ammon.
11:42. And he shall lay his hand upon the lands:  and the land of Egypt
shall not escape.
11:43. And he shall have power over the treasures of gold, and of
silver, and all the precious things of Egypt:  and he shall pass through
Lybia, and Ethiopia.
11:44. And tidings out of the east, and out of the north, shall trouble
him:  and he shall come with a great multitude to destroy and slay many.
11:45. And he shall fix his tabernacle, Apadno, between the seas, upon
a glorious and holy mountain:  and he shall come even to the top
thereof, and none shall help him.
Apadno. . .Some take it for the proper name of a place:  others, from the
Hebrew, translate it his palace.
Daniel Chapter 12
Michael shall stand up for the people of God:  with other things
relating to Antichrist, and the end of the world.
12:1. But at that time shall Michael rise up, the great prince, who
standeth for the children of thy people:  and a time shall come, such as
never was from the time that nations began, even until that time.  And
at that time shall thy people be saved, every one that shall be found
written in the book.
12:2. And many of those that sleep in the dust of the earth, shall
awake:  some unto life everlasting, and others unto reproach, to see it
12:3. But they that are learned, shall shine as the brightness of the
firmament:  and they that instruct many to justice, as stars for all
Learned. . .Viz., in the law of God and true wisdom, which consists in
knowing and loving God.
12:4. But thou, O Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the book, even to
the time appointed:  many shall pass over, and knowledge shall be
12:5. And I, Daniel, looked, and behold as it were two others stood:
one on this side upon the bank of the river, and another on that side,
on the other bank of the river.
12:6. And I said to the man that was clothed in linen, that stood upon
the waters of the river:  How long shall it be to the end of these
12:7. And I heard the man that was clothed in linen, that stood upon
the waters of the river, when he had lifted up his right hand, and his
left hand to heaven, and had sworn by him that liveth for ever, that it
should be unto a time, and times, and half a time.  And when the
scattering of the band of the holy people shall be accomplished, all
these things shall be finished.
12:8. And I heard, and understood not.  And I said:  O my lord, what
shall be after these things?
12:9. And he said:  Go, Daniel, because the words are shut up, and
sealed until the appointed time.
12:10. Many shall be chosen, and made white, and shall be tried as
fire:  and the wicked shall deal wickedly, and none of the wicked shall
understand, but the learned shall understand.
12:11. And from the time when the continual sacrifice shall be taken
away, and the abomination unto desolation shall be set up, there shall
be a thousand two hundred ninety days.
12:12. Blessed is he that waiteth, and cometh unto a thousand three
hundred thirty-five days.
12:13. But go thou thy ways until the time appointed:  and thou shalt
rest, and stand in thy lot unto the end of the days.
Daniel Chapter 13
The history of Susanna and the two elders.
This history of Susanna, in all the ancient Greek and Latin Bibles, was
placed in the beginning of the book of Daniel:  till St. Jerome, in his
translation, detached it from thence; because he did not find it in the
Hebrew:  which is also the case of the history of Bel and the Dragon.
But both the one and the other are received by the Catholic Church:  and
were from the very beginning a part of the Christian Bible.
13:1. Now there was a man that dwelt in Babylon, and his name was
13:2. And he took a wife, whose name was Susanna, the daughter of
Helcias, a very beautiful woman, and one that feared God.
13:3. For her parents being just, had instructed their daughter
according to the law of Moses.
13:4. Now Joakim was very rich, and had an orchard near his house:  and
the Jews resorted to him, because he was the most honourable of them
13:5. And there were two of the ancients of the people appointed judges
that year, of whom the Lord said:  That iniquity came out from Babylon,
from the ancient judges, that seemed to govern the people.
13:6. These men frequented the house of Joakim, and all that hand any
matters of judgment came to them.
13:7. And when the people departed away at noon, Susanna went in, and
walked in her husband's orchard.
13:8. And the old men saw her going in every day, and walking:  and they
were inflamed with lust towards her:
13:9. And they perverted their own mind, and turned away their eyes,
that they might not look unto heaven, nor remember just judgments.
13:10. So they were both wounded with the love of her, yet they did not
make known their grief one to the other.
13:11. For they were ashamed to declare to one another their lust,
being desirous to have to do with her:
13:12. And they watched carefully every day to see her.  And one said to
13:13. Let us now go home, for it is dinner time.  So going out, they
departed one from another.
13:14. And turning back again, they came both to the same place:  and
asking one another the cause, they acknowledged their lust:  and then
they agreed together upon a time, when they might find her alone.
13:15. And it fell out, as they watched a fit day, she went in on a
time, as yesterday and the day before, with two maids only, and was
desirous to wash herself in the orchard:  for it was hot weather.
13:16. And there was nobody there, but the two old men that had hid
themselves, and were beholding her.
13:17. So she said to the maids:  Bring me oil, and washing balls, and
shut the doors of the orchard, that I may wash me.
13:18. And they did as she bade them:  and they shut the doors of the
orchard, and went out by a back door to fetch what she had commanded
them, and they knew not that the elders were hid within.
13:19. Now when the maids were gone forth, the two elders arose, and
ran to her, and said:
13:20. Behold the doors of the orchard are shut, and nobody seeth us,
and we are in love with thee:  wherefore consent to us, and lie with us.
13:21. But if thou wilt not, we will bear witness against thee, that a
young man was with thee, and therefore thou didst send away thy maids
13:22. Susanna sighed, and said:  I am straitened on every side:  for if
I do this thing, it is death to me:  and if I do it not, I shall not
escape your hands.
13:23. But it is better for me to fall into your hands without doing
it, than to sin in the sight of the Lord.
13:24. With that Susanna cried out with a loud voice:  and the elders
also cried out against her.
13:25. And one of them ran to the door of the orchard, and opened it.
13:26. So when the servants of the house heard the cry in the orchard,
they rushed in by the back door, to see what was the matter.
13:27. But after the old men had spoken, the servants were greatly
ashamed:  for never had there been any such word said of Susanna.  And on
the next day,
13:28. When the people were come to Joakim, her husband, the two elders
also came full of wicked device against Susanna, to put her to death.
13:29. And they said before the people:  Send to Susanna, daughter of
Helcias, the wife of Joakim.  And presently they sent.
13:30. And she came with her parents, and children and all her kindred.
13:31. Now Susanna was exceeding delicate, and beautiful to behold.
13:32. But those wicked men commanded that her face should be
uncovered, (for she was covered) that so at least they might be
satisfied with her beauty.
13:33. Therefore her friends, and all her acquaintance wept.
13:34. But the two elders rising up in the midst of the people, laid
their hands upon her head.
13:35. And she weeping, looked up to heaven, for her heart had
confidence in the Lord.
13:36. And the elders said:  As we walked in the orchard alone, this
woman came in with two maids, and shut the doors of the orchard, ans
sent away the maids from her.
13:37. Then a young man that was there hid came to her, and lay with
13:38. But we that were in a corner of the orchard, seeing this
wickedness, ran up to them, and we saw them lie together.
13:39. And him indeed we could not take, because he was stronger than
us, and opening the doors, he leaped out:
13:40. But having taken this woman, we asked who the young man was, but
she would not tell us:  of this thing we are witnesses.
13:41. The multitude believed them, as being the elders, and the judges
of the people, and they condemned her to death.
13:42. Then Susanna cried out with a loud voice, and said:  O eternal
God, who knowest hidden things, who knowest all things before they come
13:43. Thou knowest that they have borne false witness against me:  and
behold I must die, whereas I have done none of these things, which
these men have maliciously forged against me.
13:44. And the Lord heard her voice.
13:45. And when she was led to be put to death, the Lord raised up the
holy spirit of a young boy, whose name was Daniel:
13:46. And he cried out with a loud voice:  I am clear from the blood of
13:47. Then all the people turning themselves towards him, said:  What
meaneth this word that thou hast spoken?
13:48. But he standing in the midst of them, said:  Are ye so foolish,
ye children of Israel, that without examination or knowledge of the
truth, you have condemned a daughter of Israel?
13:49. Return to judgment, for they have borne false witness against
13:50. So all the people turned again in haste, and the old men said to
him:  Come, and sit thou down among us, and shew it us:  seeing God hath
given thee the honour of old age.
13:51. And Daniel said to the people:  Separate these two far from one
another, and I will examine them.
13:52. So when they were put asunder one from the other, he called one
of them, and said to him:  O thou that art grown old in evil days, now
are thy sins come out, which thou hast committed before:
13:53. In judging unjust judgments, oppressing the innocent, and
letting the guilty to go free, whereas the Lord saith:  The innocent and
the just thou shalt not kill.
13:54. Now then if thou sawest her, tell me under what tree thou sawest
them conversing together:  He said:  Under a mastic tree.
13:55. And Daniel said:  Well hast thou lied against thy own head:  for
behold the angel of God having received the sentence of him, shall cut
thee in two.
13:56. And having put him aside, he commanded that the other should
come, and he said to him:  O thou seed of Chanaan, and not of Juda,
beauty hath deceived tee, and lust hath perverted thy heart:
13:57. Thus did you do to the daughters of Israel, and they for fear
conversed with you:  but a daughter of Juda would not abide your
13:58. Now, therefore, tell me, under what tree didst thou take them
conversing together.  And he answered:  Under a holm tree.
13:59. And Daniel said to him:  Well hast thou also lied against thy own
head:  for the angel of the Lord waiteth with a sword to cut thee in
two, and to destroy you.
13:60. With that all the assembly cried out with a loud voice, and they
blessed God, who saveth them that trust in him.
13:61. And they rose up against the two elders, (for Daniel had
convicted them of false witness by their own mouth) and they did to
them as they had maliciously dealt against their neighbour,
13:62. To fulfil the law of Moses:  and they put them to death, and
innocent blood was saved in that day.
13:63. But Helcias, and his wife, praised God, for their daughter,
Susanna, with Joakim, her husband, and all her kindred, because there
was no dishonesty found in her.
13:64. And Daniel became great in the sight of the people from that
day, and thence forward.
13:65. And king Astyages was gathered to his fathers; and Cyrus, the
Persian, received his kingdom.
Daniel Chapter 14
The history of Bel, and of the great serpent worshipped by the
Babylonians.
14:1. And Daniel was the king's guest, and was honoured above all his
The king's guest. . .It seems most probable, that the king here spoken
of was Evilmerodach, the son and successor of Nabuchodonosor, and a
great favourer of the Jews.
14:2. Now the Babylonians had an idol called Bel:  and there was spent
upon him every day twelve great measures of fine flour, and forty
sheep, and six vessels of wine.
14:3. The king also worshipped him, and went every day to adore him:
but Daniel adored his God.  And the king said to him:  Why dost thou not
14:4. And he answered, and said to him:  Because I do not worship idols
made with hands, but the living God, that created heaven and earth, and
hath power over all flesh.
14:5. And the king said to him:  Doth not Bel seem to thee to be a
living god?  Seest thou not how much he eateth and drinketh every day?
14:6. Then Daniel smiled, and said:  O king, be not deceived:  for this
is but clay within, and brass without, neither hath he eaten at any
14:7. And the king being angry, called for his priests, and said to
them:  If you tell me not who it is that eateth up these expenses, you
14:8. But if you can shew that Bel eateth these things, Daniel shall
die, because he hath blasphemed against Bel.  And Daniel said to the
king:  Be it done according to thy word.
14:9. Now the priests of Bel were seventy, beside their wives, and
little ones, and children.  And the king went with Daniel into the
temple of Bel.
14:10. And the priests of Bel said:  Behold, we go out:  and do thou, O
king, set on the meats, and make ready the wine, and shut the door
fast, and seal it with thy own ring:
14:11. And when thou comest in the morning, if thou findest not that
Bel hath eaten up all, we will suffer death, or else Daniel, that hath
lied against us.
14:12. And they little regarded it, because they had made under the
table a secret entrance, and they always came in by it, and consumed
those things.
14:13. So it came to pass after they were gone out, the king set the
meats before Bel:  and Daniel commanded his servants, and they brought
ashes, and he sifted them all over the temple before the king:  and
going forth, they shut the door, and having sealed it with the king's
ring, they departed.
14:14. But the priests went in by night, according to their custom,
with their wives, and their children:  and they eat and drank up all.
14:15. And the king arose early in the morning, and Daniel with him.
14:16. And the king said:  Are the seals whole, Daniel?  And he answered:
They are whole, O king.
14:17. And as soon as he had opened the door, the king looked upon the
table, and cried out with a loud voice:  Great art thou, O Bel, and
there is not any deceit with thee.
14:18. And Daniel laughed:  and he held the king, that he should not go
in:  and he said:  Behold the pavement, mark whose footsteps these are.
14:19. And the king said:  I see the footsteps of men, and women, and
children.  And the king was angry.
14:20. Then he took the priests, and their wives, and their children:
and they shewed him the private doors by which they came in, and
consumed the things that were on the table.
14:21. The king, therefore, put them to death, and delivered Bel into
the power of Daniel:  who destroyed him and his temple.
14:22. And there was a great dragon in that place, and the Babylonians
worshipped him.
14:23. And the king said to Daniel:  Behold, thou canst not say now,
that this is not a living god:  adore him, therefore.
14:24. And Daniel said:  I adore the Lord, my God:  for he is the living
God:  but that is no living god.
14:25. But give me leave, O king, and I will kill this dragon without
sword or club.  And the king said, I give thee leave.
14:26. Then Daniel took pitch, and fat, and hair, and boiled them
together:  and he made lumps, and put them into the dragon's mouth, and
the dragon burst asunder.  And he said:  Behold him whom you worship.
14:27. And when the Babylonians had heard this, they took great
indignation:  and being gathered together against the king, they said:
The king is become a Jew.  He hath destroyed Bel, he hath killed the
dragon, and he hath put the priests to death.
14:28. And they came to the king, and said:  Deliver us Daniel, or else
we will destroy thee and thy house.
14:29. And the king saw that they pressed upon him violently:  and being
constrained by necessity:  he delivered Daniel to them.
14:30. And they cast him into the den of lions, and he was there six
The den of lions. . .Daniel was twice cast into the den of lions; one
under Darius the Mede, because he had transgressed the king's edict, by
praying three times a day:  and another time under Evilmerodach by a
sedition of the people.  This time he remained six days in the lions'
den; the other time only one night.
14:31. And in the den there were seven lions, and they had given to
them two carcasses every day, and two sheep:  but then they were not
given unto them, that they might devour Daniel.
14:32. Now there was in Judea a prophet called Habacuc, and he had
boiled pottage, and had broken bread in a bowl:  and was going into the
field, to carry it to the reapers.
Habacuc. . .The same, as some think whose prophecy is found among the
lesser prophets but others believe him to be different.
14:33. And the angel of the Lord said to Habacuc:  Carry the dinner
which thou hast into Babylon, to Daniel, who is in the lions' den.
14:34. And Habacuc said:  Lord, I never saw Babylon, nor do I know the
14:35. And the angel of the Lord took him by the top of his head, and
carried him by the hair of his head, and set him in Babylon, over the
den, in the force of his spirit.
14:36. And Habacuc cried, saying:  O Daniel, thou servant of God, take
the dinner that God hath sent thee.
14:37. And Daniel said, Thou hast remembered me, O God, and thou hast
not forsaken them that love thee.
14:38. And Daniel arose, and eat.  And the angel of the Lord presently
set Habacuc again in his own place.
14:39. And upon the seventh day the king came to bewail Daniel:  and he
came to the den, and looked in, and behold Daniel was sitting in the
midst of the lions.
14:40. And the king cried out with a loud voice, saying:  Great art
thou, O Lord, the God of Daniel.  And he drew him out of the lions' den.
14:41. But those that had been the cause of his destruction, he cast
into the den, and they were devoured in a moment before him.
14:42. Then the king said:  Let all the inhabitants of the whole earth
fear the God of Daniel:  for he is the Saviour, working signs, and
wonders in the earth:  who hath delivered Daniel out of the lions' den.
THE PROPHECY OF OSEE
OSEE, or Hosea, whose name signifies A saviour, was the first in the
order of time among those who are commonly called lesser prophets,
because their prophecies are short.  He prophesied in the kingdom of
Israel, that is, of the ten tribes, about the same time that Isaias
prophesied in the kingdom of Juda.
Osee Chapter 1
By marrying a harlot, and by the names of his children, the prophet
sets forth the crimes of Israel and their punishment.  He foretells
their redemption by Christ.
1:1. The word of the Lord, that came to Osee, the son of Beeri, in the
days of Ozias, Joathan, Achaz, and Ezechias, kings of Juda, and in the
days of Jeroboam, the son of Joas, king of Israel.
1:2. The beginning of the Lord's speaking by Osee:  and the Lord said to
Osee:  Go, take thee a wife of fornications, and have of her children of
fornications:  for the land by fornication shall depart from the Lord.
A wife of fornications. . .That is, a wife that has been given to
fornication.  This was to represent the Lord's proceedings with his
people Israel, who, by spiritual fornication, were continually
offending him.--Ibid.  Children of fornications. . .So called from the
character of their mother, if not also from their own wicked
dispositions.
1:3. So he went and took Gomer, the daughter of Debelaim:  and she
conceived, and bore him a son.
1:4. And the Lord said to him:  Call his name Jezrahel:  for yet a little
while, and I will visit the blood of Jezrahel upon the house of Jehu,
and I will cause to cease the kingdom of the house of Israel.
1:5. And in that day I will break in pieces the bow of Israel in the
valley of Jezrahel.
1:6. And she conceived again, and bore a daughter, and he said to him:
Call her name, Without mercy:  for I will not add any more to have mercy
on the house of Israel, but I will utterly forget them.
Without mercy. . .Lo-Ruhamah.
1:7. And I will have mercy on the house of Juda, and I will save them
by the Lord, their God:  and I will not save them by bow, nor by sword,
nor by battle, nor by horses, nor by horsemen.
1:8. And she weaned her that was called Without mercy.  And she
conceived, and bore a son.
1:9. And he said:  Call his name, Not my people:  for you are not my
people, and I will not be yours.
Not my people. . .Lo-ammi.
1:10. And the number of the children of Israel shall be as the sand of
the sea, that is without measure, and shall not be numbered.  And it
shall be in the place where it shall be said to them:  You are not my
people:  it shall be said to them:  Ye are the sons of the living God.
The number, etc. . .Viz., of the true Israelites, the children of the
church of Christ.
1:11. And the children of Juda, and the children of Israel, shall be
gathered together:  and they shall appoint themselves one head, and
shall come up out of the land:  for great is the day of Jezrahel.
One head. . .viz., Christ.--Ibid.  Great is the day of Jezrahel. . .That
is, of the seed of God; for Jezrahel signifies the seed of God.
Osee Chapter 2
Israel is justly punished for leaving God.  The abundance of grace in
the church of Christ.
2:1. Say ye to your brethren:  You are my people:  and to your sister:
Thou hast obtained mercy.
Say to your brethren, etc. . .or, Call your brethren, My people:  and
your sister, Her that hath obtained mercy.  This is connected with the
latter end of the foregoing chapter, and relates to the converts of
2:2. Judge your mother, judge her:  because she is not my wife, and I am
not her husband.  Let her put away her fornications from her face, and
her adulteries from between her breasts.
Your mother. . .The synagogue.
2:3. Lest I strip her naked, and set her as in the day that she was
born:  and I will make her as a wilderness, and will set her as a land
that none can pass through and will kill her with drought.
2:4. And I will not have mercy on her children.  for they are the
children of fornications.
2:5. For their mother hath committed fornication, she that conceived
them is covered with shame:  for she said:  I will go after my lovers,
that give me my bread, and my water, my wool, and my flax, my oil, and
2:6. Wherefore, behold, I will hedge up thy way with thorns, and I will
stop it up with a wall, and she shall not find her paths.
2:7. And she shall follow after her lovers, and shall not overtake
them:  and she shall seek them, and shall not find, and she shall say:  I
will go, and return to my first husband:  because it was better with me
then than now.
2:8. And she did not know that I gave her corn, and wine, and oil, and
multiplied her silver, and gold, which they have used in the service of
2:9. Therefore will I return, and take away my corn in its season, and
my wine in its season, and I will set at liberty my wool, and my flax,
which covered her disgrace.
2:10. And now I will lay open her folly in the eyes of her lovers:  and
no man shall deliver her out of my hand:
2:11. And I will cause all her mirth to cease, her solemnities, her new
moons, her sabbaths, and all her festival times.
2:12. And I will destroy her vines, and her fig trees, of which she
said:  These are my rewards, which my lovers have given me:  and I will
make her as a forest and the beasts of the field shall devour her.
2:13. And I will visit upon her the days of Baalim, to whom she burnt
incense, and decked herself out with her earrings, and with her jewels,
and went after her lovers, and forgot me, saith the Lord.
2:14. Therefore, behold I will allure her, and will lead her into the
wilderness:  and I will speak to her heart.
I will allure her, etc. . .After all her disloyalties, I will still
allure her by my grace etc., and send her vinedressers, viz., the
apostles:  originally her own children, who shall open to her the gates
of hope; as heretofore at her coming into the land of promise, she had
all good success after she had satisfied the divine justice by the
execution of Achan in the valley of Achor.  Jos. 7.
2:15. And I will give her vinedressers out of the same place, and the
valley of Achor for an opening of hope:  and she shall sing there
according to the days of her youth, and according to the days of her
coming up out of the land of Egypt.
2:16. And it shall be in that day, saith the Lord:  That she shall call
me:  My husband, and she shall call me no more Banli.
My husband. . .In Hebrew, Ishi.  Baali, my lord.  The meaning of this
verse is:  that whereas Ishi and Baali were used indifferently in those
days by wives speaking to their husbands; the synagogue, whom God was
pleased to consider as his spouse, should call him only Ishi, and
abstain from the name of Baali, because of its affinity with the idol
2:17. And I will take away the names of Baalim out of her mouth, and
she shall no more remember their name.
Baalim. . .It is the plural number of Baal:  for there were divers idols
2:18. And in that day I will make a covenant with them, with the beasts
of the field, and with the fowls of the air, and with the creeping
things of the earth:  and I will destroy the bow, and the sword, and war
out of the land:  and I will make them sleep secure.
2:19. And I will espouse thee to me for ever:  and I will espouse thee
to me in justice, and judgment, and in mercy, and in commiserations.
I will espouse thee, etc. . .This relates to the happy espousals of
Christ with his church:  which shall never be dissolved.
2:20. And I will espouse thee to me in faith:  and thou shalt know that
I am the Lord.
2:21. And it shall come to pass in that day:  I will hear, saith the
Lord, I will hear the heavens, and they shall hear the earth.
Hear the heavens, etc. . .All shall conspire in favour of the church,
which in the following verse is called Jezrahel, that is, the seed of
2:22. And the earth shall hear the corn, and the wine, and the oil, and
these shall hear Jezrahel.
2:23. And I will sow her unto me in the earth, and I will have mercy on
her that was without mercy.
2:24. And I will say to that which is not my people:  Thou art my
people:  and they shall say:  Thou art my God.
That which was not my people, etc. . .This relates to the conversion of
the Gentiles.
Osee Chapter 3
The prophet is commanded again to love an adulteress; to signify God's
love to the synagogue.  The wretched state of the Jews for a long time,
till at last they shall be converted.
3:1. And the Lord said to me:  Go yet again, and love a woman beloved of
her friend, and an adulteress:  as the Lord loveth the children of
Israel, and they look to strange gods, and love the husks of the
3:2. And I bought her to me for fifteen pieces of silver, and for a
core of barley, and for half a core of barley.
3:3. And I said to her:  Thou shalt wait for me many days:  thou shalt
not play the harlot, and thou shalt be no man's, and I also will wait
3:4. For the children of Israel shall sit many days without king, and
without prince, and without sacrifice, and without altar, and without
ephod, and without theraphim.
Theraphim. . .Images or representations.
3:5. And after this the children of Israel shall return and shall seek
the Lord, their God, and David, their king:  and they shall fear the
Lord, and his goodness, in the last days.
David their king. . .That is, Christ, who is of the house of David.
Osee Chapter 4
God's judgment against the sins of Israel:  Juda is warned not to follow
their example.
4:1. Hear the word of the Lord, ye children of Israel, for the Lord
shall enter into judgment with the inhabitants of the land:  for there
is no truth, and there is no mercy, and there is no knowledge of God in
4:2. Cursing, and lying, and killing, and theft, and adultery, have
overflowed, and blood hath touched blood.
4:3. Therefore shall the land mourn, and every one that dwelleth in it
shall languish with the heat of the field, and with the fowls of the
air:  yea, the fishes of the sea also shall be gathered together.
4:4. But yet let not any man judge:  and let not a man be rebuked:  for
thy people are as they that contradict the priest.
Let not any man judge, etc. . .As if he would say:  It is in vain to
strive with them, or reprove them, they are so obstinate in evil.
4:5. And thou shalt fall today, and the prophet also shall fall with
thee:  in the night I have made thy mother to be silent.
4:6. My people have been silent, because they had no knowledge:  because
thou hast rejected knowledge, I will reject thee, that thou shalt not
do the office of priesthood to me:  and thou hast forgotten the law of
thy God, I also will forget thy children.
4:7. According to the multitude of them, so have they sinned against
me:  I will change their glory into shame.
4:8. They shall eat the sins of my people, and shall lift up their
souls to their iniquity.
4:9. And there shall be like people like priest:  and I will visit their
ways upon them, and I will repay them their devices.
4:10. And they shall eat and shall not be filled:  they have committed
fornication, and have not ceased:  because they have forsaken the Lord
in not observing the law.
4:11. Fornication, and wine, and drunkenness, take away the
understanding.
4:12. My people have consulted their stocks, and their staff hath
declared unto them:  for the spirit of fornication hath deceived them,
and they have committed fornication against their God.
4:13. They offered sacrifice upon the tops of the mountains, and burnt
incense upon the hills:  under the oak, and the poplar, and the
turpentine tree, because the shadow thereof was good:  therefore shall
your daughters commit fornication, aud your spouses shall be
adulteresses.
4:14. I will not visit upon your daughters, when they shall commit
fornication, and upon your spouses when they shall commit adultery:
because themselves conversed with harlots, and offered sacrifice with
the effeminate, and the people that doth not understand shall be
4:15. If thou play the harlot, O Israel, at least let not Juda offend:
and go ye not into Galgal, and come not up into Bethaven, and do not
swear:  The Lord liveth.
Galgal and Bethaven. . .Places where idols were worshipped.  Bethel,
which signifies the house of God, is called by the prophet, Bethaven,
that is, the house of vanity, from Jeroboam's golden calf that was
worshipped there.
4:16. For Israel hath gone astray like a wanton heifer now will the
Lord feed them, as a lamb in a spacious place.
4:17. Ephraim is a partaker with idols, let him alone.
4:18. Their banquet is separated, they have gone astray by fornication:
they that should have protected them have loved to bring shame upon
4:19. The wind hath bound them up in its wings, and they shall be
confounded because of their sacrifices.
Osee Chapter 5
God's threats against the priests, the people, and princes of Israel,
for their idolatry.
5:1. Hear ye this, O priests, and hearken, O ye house of Israel, and
give ear, O house of the king:  for there is a judgment against you,
because you have been a snare to them whom you should have watched over
and a net spread upon Thabor.
O priests. . .What is said of priests in this prophecy is chiefly
understood of the priests of the kingdom of Israel; who were not true
priests of the race of Aaron; but served the calves at Bethel and Dan.
5:2. And you have turned aside victims into the depth and I am the
teacher of them all.
5:3. I know Ephraim, and Israel is not hid from me for now Ephraim hath
committed fornication, Israel is defiled.
5:4. They will not set their thoughts to return to their God:  for the
spirit of fornication is in the midst of them, and they have not known
5:5. And the pride of Israel shall answer in his face:  and Israel, and
Ephraim shall fall in their iniquity, Juda also shall fall with them.
5:6. With their flocks and with their herds, they shall go to seek the
Lord, and shall not find him:  he is withdrawn from them.
5:7. They have transgressed against the Lord:  for they have begotten
children that are strangers:  now shall a month devour them with their
Children that are strangers. . .That is, aliens from God:  and therefore
they are threatened with speedy destruction.
5:8. Blow ye the cornet in Gabaa, the trumpet in Rama:  howl ye in
Bethaven, behind thy back, O Benjamin.
5:9. Ephraim shall be in desolation in the day of rebuke:  among the
tribes of Israel I have shewn that which shall surely be.
5:10. The princes of Juda are become as they that take up the bound:  I
will pour out my wrath upon them like water.
As they that take up the bound. . .That is, they that remove the
boundary, encroaching on the property of their neighbors:  figuratively:
going beyond the boundary of the laws of God.
5:11. Ephraim is under oppression, and broken in judgment:  because he
began to go after filthiness.
5:12. And I will be like a moth to Ephraim:  and like rottenness to the
house of Juda.
5:13. And Ephraim saw his sickness, and Juda his band:  and Ephraim went
to the Assyrian, and sent to the avenging king:  and he shall not be
able to heal you, neither shall he be able to take off the band from
5:14. For I will be like a lioness to Ephraim, and like a lion's whelp
to the house of Juda:  I, I will catch, and go:  I will take away, and
there is none that can rescue.
5:15. I will go and return to my place:  until you are consumed, and
seek my face.
Osee Chapter 6
Affliction shall be a means to bring many to Christ, a complaint of the
untowardness of the Jews.  God loves mercy more than sacrifice.
6:1. In their affliction they will rise early to me:  Come, and let us
return to the Lord.
6:2. For he hath taken us, and he will heal us:  he will strike, and he
will cure us.
6:3. He will revive us after two days:  on the third day he will raise
us up, and we shall live in his sight.  We shall know, and we shall
follow on, that we may know the Lord.  His going forth is prepared as
the morning light, and he will come to us as the early and the latter
rain to the earth.
6:4. What shall I do to thee, O Ephraim?  what shall I do to thee, O
Juda?  your mercy is as a morning cloud, and as the dew that goeth away
in the morning.
6:5. For this reason have I hewed them by the prophets, I have slain
them by the words of my mouth:  and thy judgments shall go forth as the
6:6. For I desired mercy, and not sacrifice:  and the knowledge of God
more than holocausts.
6:7. But they, like Adam, have transgressed the covenant, there have
they dealt treacherously against me.
6:8. Galaad is a city of workers of idols, supplanted with blood.
Supplanted with blood. . .that is, undermined and brought to ruin, for
shedding of blood:  and, as it is signified in the following verse, for
conspiring with the priests (of Bethel) like robbers, to murder in the
way such as passed out of Sichem to go towards the temple of Jerusalem.
Or else . . .upplanted with blood. . .signifies flowing in such manner
with blood, as to suffer none to walk there without imbruing the soles
of their feet in blood.
6:9. And like the jaws of highway robbers, they conspire with the
priests who murder in the way those that pass out of Sichem:  for they
have wrought wickedness.
6:10. I have seen a horrible thing in the house of Israel:  the
fornications of Ephraim there:  Israel is defiled.
6:11. And thou also, O Juda, set thee a harvest, when I shall bring
back the captivity of my people.
Osee Chapter 7
The manifold sins of Israel, and of their kings, hinder the Lord from
healing them.
7:1. When I would have healed Israel, the iniquity of Ephraim was
discovered, and the wickedness of Samaria, for they have committed
falsehood, and the thief is come in to steal, the robber is without.
7:2. And lest they may say in their hearts, that I remember all their
wickedness:  their own devices now have beset them about, they have been
done before my face.
7:3. They have made the king glad with their wickedness:  and the
princes with their lies.
Made the king glad, etc. . .To please Jeroboam, and their other kings
they have given themselves up to the wicked worship of idols, which are
mere falsehood and lies.
7:4. They are all adulterers, like an oven heated by the baker:  the
city rested a little from the mingling of the leaven, till the whole
was leavened.
7:5. The day of our king, the princes began to be mad with wine:  he
stretched out his hand with scorners.
7:6. Because they have applied their heart like an oven, when he laid
snares for them:  he slept all the night baking them, in the morning he
himself was heated as a flaming fire.
7:7. They were all heated like an oven, and have devoured their judges:
all their kings have fallen:  there is none amongst them that calleth
7:8. Ephraim himself is mixed among the nations:  Ephraim is become as
bread baked under the ashes, that is not turned.
7:9. Strangers have devoured his strength, and he knew it not:  yea,
grey hairs also are spread about upon him, and he is ignorant of it.
7:10. And the pride of Israel shall be humbled before his face:  and
they have not returned to the Lord their God, nor have they sought him
in all these.
7:11. And Ephraim is become as a dove that is decoyed, not having a
heart:  they called upon Egypt, they went to the Assyrians.
7:12. And when they shall go, I will spread my net upon them:  I will
bring them down as the fowl of the air, I will strike them as their
congregation hath heard.
7:13. Woe to them, for they have departed from me:  they shall be wasted
because they have transgressed against me:  and I redeemed them:  and
they have spoken lies against me.
7:14. And they have not cried to me with their heart, but they howled
in their beds:  they have thought upon wheat and wine, they are departed
7:15. And I have chastised them, and strengthened their arms:  and they
have imagined evil against me.
7:16. They returned, that they might be without yoke:  they became like
a deceitful bow:  their princes shall fall by the sword, for the rage of
their tongue.  This is their derision in the land of Egypt.
Osee Chapter 8
The Israelites are threatened with destruction for their impiety and
8:1. Let there be a trumpet in thy throat like an eagle upon the house
of the Lord:  because they have transgressed my covenant, and have
violated my law.
8:2. They shall call upon me:  O my God, we, Israel, know thee.
8:3. Israel hath cast off the thing that is good, the enemy shall
8:4. They have reigned, but not by me:  they have been princes, and I
knew not:  of their silver and their gold they have made idols to
themselves, that they might perish.
8:5. Thy calf, O Samaria, is cast off, my wrath is kindled against
them.  How long will they be incapable of being cleansed?
8:6. For itself also is the invention of Israel:  a workman made it, and
it is no god:  for the calf of Samaria shall be turned to spiders' webs.
8:7. For they shall sow wind, and reap a whirlwind, there is no
standing stalk in it, the bud shall yield no meal; and if it should
yield, strangers shall eat it.
8:8. Israel is swallowed up:  now is he become among the nations like an
unclean vessel.
8:9. For they are gone up to Assyria, a wild ass alone by himself:
Ephraim hath given gifts to his lovers.
8:10. But even though they shall have hired the nations, now will I
gather them together:  and they shall rest a while from the burden of
the king, and the princes.
8:11. Because Ephraim hath made many altars to sin:  altars are become
to him unto sin.
8:12. I shall write to him my manifold laws, which have been accounted
8:13. They shall offer victims, they shall sacrifice flesh, and shall
eat it, and the Lord will not receive them:  now will he remember their
iniquity, and will visit their sins:  they shall return to Egypt.
8:14. And Israel hath forgotten his Maker, and hath built temples:  and
Juda hath built many fenced cities:  and I will send a fire upon his
cities, and it shall devour the houses thereof.
Osee Chapter 9
The distress and captivity of Israel for their sins and idolatry.
9:1. Rejoice not, O Israel:  rejoice not as the nations do:  for thou
hast committed fornication against thy God, thou hast loved a reward
upon every cornfloor.
9:2. The floor and the winepress shall not feed them, and the wine
shall deceive them.
9:3. They shall not dwell in the Lord's land:  Ephraim is returned to
Egypt, and hath eaten unclean things among the Assyrians.
9:4. They shall not offer wine to the Lord, neither shall they please
him:  their sacrifices shall be like the bread of mourners:  all that
shall eat it shall be defiled:  for their bread is life for their soul,
it shall not enter into the house of the Lord.
9:5. What will you do in the solemn day, in the day of the feast of the
9:6. For behold they are gone because of destruction:  Egypt shall
gather them together, Memphis shall bury them:  nettles shall inherit
their beloved silver, the bur shall be in their tabernacles.
9:7. The days of visitation are come, the days of repaying are come:
know ye, O Israel, that the prophet was foolish, the spiritual man was
mad, for the multitude of thy iniquity, and the multitude of thy
9:8. The watchman of Ephraim was with my God:  the prophet is become a
snare of ruin upon all his ways, madness is in the house of his God.
9:9. They have sinned deeply, as in the days of Gabaa:  he will remember
their iniquity, and will visit their sin.
9:10. I found Israel like grapes in the desert, I saw their fathers
like the firstfruits of the fig tree in the top thereof:  but they went
in to Beelphegor, and alienated themselves to that confusion, and
became abominable, as those things were, which they loved.
9:11. As for Ephraim, their glory hath flown away like bird from the
birth, and from the womb, and from the conception.
9:12. And though they should bring up their children, I will make them
without children among men:  yea, and woe to them, when I shall depart
9:13. Ephraim, as I saw, was a Tyre, founded in beauty:  and Ephraim
shall bring out his children to the murderer.
9:14. Give them, O Lord.  What wilt thou give them?  Give them a womb
without children, and dry breasts.
9:15. All their wickedness is in Galgal, for there I hated them:  for
the wickedness of their devices I will cast them forth out of my house:
I will love them no more, all their princes are revolters.
9:16. Ephraim is struck, their root is dried up, they shall yield no
fruit.  And if they should have issue, I will slay the best beloved
fruit of their womb.
9:17. My God will cast them away, because they hearkened not to him:
and they shall be wanderers among the nations.
Osee Chapter 10
After many benefits, great affliction shall fall upon the ten tribes,
for their ingratitude to God.
10:1. Israel a vine full of branches, the fruit is agreeable to it:
according to the multitude of his fruit, he hath multiplied altars,
according to the plenty of his land he hath abounded with idols.
10:2. Their heart is divided:  now they shall perish:  he shall break
down their idols, he shall destroy their altars.
10:3. For now they shall say:  We have no king:  because we fear not the
Lord:  and what shall a king do to us?
10:4. You speak words of an unprofitable vision, and you shall make a
covenant:  and judgment shall spring up as bitterness in the furrows of
10:5. The inhabitants of Samaria have worshipped the kine of Bethaven:
for the people thereof have mourned over it, and the wardens of its
temple that rejoiced over it in its glory because it is departed from
The kine of Bethaven. . .The golden calves of Jeroboam.
10:6. For itself also is carried into Assyria, a present to the
avenging king:  shame shall fall upon Ephraim, and Israel shall be
confounded in his own will.
Itself also is carried, etc. . .One of the golden calves was given by
king Manahem, to Phul, king of the Assyrians, to engage him to stand by
10:7. Samaria hath made her king to pass as froth upon the face of the
10:8. And the high places of the idol, the sin of Israel shall be
destroyed:  the bur and the thistle shall grow up over their altars:  and
they shall say to the mountains Cover us; and to the hills:  Fall upon
10:9. From the days of Gabaa, Israel hath sinned, there they stood:  the
battle in Gabaa against the children of iniquity shall not overtake
10:10. According to my desire, I will chastise them:  and the nations
shall be gathered together against them, when they shall be chastised
for their two iniquities.
Their two iniquities. . .Their two calves.
10:11. Ephraim is a heifer taught to love to tread out corn, but I
passed over upon the beauty of her neck:  I will ride upon Ephraim, Juda
shall plough, Jacob shall break the furrows for himself.
10:12. Sow for yourselves in justice, and reap in the mouth of mercy,
break up your fallow ground:  but the time to seek the Lord is, when he
shall come that shall teach you justice.
10:13. You have ploughed wickedness, you have reaped iniquity, you have
eaten the fruit of lying:  because thou hast trusted in thy ways, in the
multitude of thy strong ones.
10:14. A tumult shall arise among thy people:  and all thy fortresses
shall be destroyed as Salmana was destroyed, by the house of him that
judged Baal in the day of battle, the mother being dashed in pieces
upon her children.
As Salmana, king of the Midianites, was destroyed by the house, that
is, by the followers of him that judged Baal; that is, of Gideon, who
threw down the altar of Baal; and was therefore called Jerubaal.  See
Judges 6 and 8.
10:15. So hath Bethel done to you, because of the evil of your
Osee Chapter 11
God proceeds in threatening Israel for their ingratitude:  yet he will
not utterly destroy them.
11:1. As the morning passeth, so hath the king of Israel passed away.
Because Israel was a child, and I loved him:  and I called my son out of
I called my son. . .Viz., Israel.  But as the calling of Israel out of
Egypt, was a figure of the calling of Christ from thence; therefore
this text is also applicable to Christ, as we learn from Matthew 2.15.
11:2. As they called them, they went away from before their face:  they
offered victims to Baalim, and sacrificed to idols.
They called. . .Viz., Moses and Aaron called; but they went away after
other gods and would not hear.
11:3. And I was like a foster father to Ephraim, I carried them in my
arms:  and they knew not that I healed them.
11:4. I will draw them with the cords of Adam, with the bands of love:
and I will be to them as one that taketh off the yoke on their jaws:
and I put his meat to him that he might eat.
11:5. He shall not return into the land of Egypt, but the Assyrian
shall be his king:  because they would not be converted.
11:6. The sword hath begun in his cities, and it shall consume his
chosen men, and shall devour their heads.
11:7. And my people shall long for my return:  but a yoke shall be put
upon them together, which shall not be taken off.
11:8. How shall I deal with thee, O Ephraim, shall I protect thee, O
Israel?  how shall I make thee as Adama, shall I set thee as Seboim?  my
heart is turned within me, my repentance is stirred up.
Adama, etc. . .Adama and Seboim were two cities in the neighborhood of
Sodom:  and underwent the like destruction.
11:9. I will not execute the fierceness of my wrath:  I will not return
to destroy Ephraim:  because I am God, and not man:  the holy one in the
midst of thee, and I will not enter into the city.
11:10. They shall walk after the Lord, he shall roar as a lion:  because
he shall roar, and the children of the sea shall fear.
11:11. And they shall fly away like a bird out of Egypt, and like a
dove out of the land of the Assyrians:  and I will place them in their
own houses, saith the Lord.
11:12. Ephraim hath compassed me about with denials, and the house of
Israel with deceit:  but Juda went down as a witness with God, and is
faithful with the saints.
Osee Chapter 12
Israel is reproved for sin.  God's favours to them.
12:1. Ephraim feedeth on the wind, and followeth the burning heat:  all
the day long he multiplied lies and desolation:  and he hath made a
covenant with the Assyrians, and carried oil into Egypt.
12:2. Therefore there is a judgment of the Lord with Juda, and a
visitation for Jacob:  he will render to him according to his ways, and
according to his devices.
12:3. In the womb he supplanted his brother:  and by his strength he had
success with an angel.
12:4. And he prevailed over the angel, and was strengthened:  he wept,
and made supplication to him:  he found him in Bethel, and there he
spoke with us.
12:5. Even the Lord God of hosts, the Lord is his memorial.
12:6. Therefore turn thou to thy God:  keep mercy and judgment, and hope
in thy God always.
12:7. He is like Chanaan, there is a deceitful balance in his hand, he
hath loved oppression.
12:8. And Ephraim said:  But yet I am become rich, I have found me an
idol:  all my labours shall not find me the iniquity that I have
12:9. And I that am the Lord thy God from the land of Egypt, will yet
cause thee to dwell in tabernacles, as in the days of the feast.
12:10. And I have spoken by the prophets, and I have multiplied
visions, and I have used similitudes by the ministry of the prophets.
12:11. If Galaad be an idol, then in vain were they in Galgal offering
sacrifices with bullocks:  for their altars also are as heaps in the
furrows of the field.
If Galaad be an idol, etc. . .That is, if Galaad with all its idols and
sacrifices be like a mere idol itself, being brought to nothing by
Theglathphalasar:  how vain is it to expect, that the idols worshipped
in Galgal shall be of any service to the tribes that remain.
12:12. Jacob fled into the country of Syria, and Israel served for a
wife, and was a keeper for a wife.
12:13. But the Lord by a prophet brought Israel out of Egypt:  and he
was preserved by a prophet.
12:14. Ephraim hath provoked me to wrath with his bitterness, and his
blood shall come upon him, and his Lord will render his reproach unto
Osee Chapter 13
The judgments of God upon Israel for their sins.  Christ shall one day
redeem them.
13:1. When Ephraim spoke, a horror seized Israel:  and he sinned in
Baal, and died.
13:2. And now they have sinned more and more:  and they have made to
themselves a molten thing of their silver as the likeness of idols:  the
whole is the work of craftsmen:  to these that say:  Sacrifice men, ye
that adore calves.
13:3. Therefore they shall be as a morning cloud, and as the early dew
that passeth away, as the dust that is driven with a whirlwind out of
the floor, and as the smoke out of the chimney.
13:4. But I am the Lord thy God from the land of Egypt:  and thou shalt
know no God but me, and there is no saviour beside me.
13:5. I knew thee in the desert, in the land of the wilderness.
13:6. According to their pastures they were filled, and were made full:
and they lifted up their heart, and have forgotten me.
13:7. And I will be to them as a lioness, as a leopard in the way of
the Assyrians.
13:8. I will meet them as a bear that is robbed of her whelps, and I
will rend the inner parts of their liver:  and I will devour them there
as a lion, the beast of the field shall tear them.
13:9. Destruction is thy own, O Israel:  thy help is only in me.
13:10. Where is thy king?  now especially let him save thee in all thy
cities:  and thy judges, of whom thou saidst:  Give me kings and princes.
13:11. I will give thee a king in my wrath, and will take him away in
my indignation.
13:12. The iniquity of Ephraim is bound up, his sin is hidden.
13:13. The sorrows of a woman in labour shall come upon him, he is an
unwise son:  for now he shall not stand in the breach of the children.
13:14. I will deliver them out of the hand of death.  I will redeem them
from death:  O death, I will be thy death; O hell, I will be thy bite:
comfort is hidden from my eyes.
13:15. Because he shall make a separation between brothers:  the Lord
will bring a burning wind that shall rise from the desert, and it shall
dry up his springs, and shall make his fountain desolate, and he shall
carry off the treasure of every desirable vessel.
Osee Chapter 14
Samaria shall be destroyed.  An exhortation to repentance:  God's favour
through Christ to the penitent.
14:1. Let Samaria perish, because she hath stirred up her God to
bitterness:  let them perish by the sword, let their little ones be
dashed, and let the women with child be ripped up.
Perish, because she hath stirred up her God to bitterness. . .It is not
a curse or imprecation, but a prophecy of what should come to pass.
14:2. Return, O Israel, to the Lord thy God:  for thou hast fallen down
by thy iniquity.
14:3. Take with you words, and return to the Lord, and say to him:  Take
away all iniquity, and receive the good:  and we will render the calves
of our lips.
14:4. Assyria shall not save us, we will not ride upon horses, neither
will we say any more:  The works of our hands are our gods:  for thou
wilt have mercy on the fatherless that is in thee.
14:5. I will heal their breaches, I will love them freely:  for my wrath
is turned away from them.
14:6. I will be as the dew, Israel shall spring as the lily, and his
root shall shoot forth as that of Libanus.
14:7. His branches shall spread, and his glory shall be as the olive
tree:  and his smell as that of Libanus.
14:8. They shall be converted that sit under his shadow:  they shall
live upon wheat, and they shall blossom as a vine:  his memorial shall
be as the wine of Libanus.
14:9. Ephraim shall say, What have I to do any more with idols?  I will
hear him, and I will make him flourish like a green fir tree:  from me
is thy fruit found.
14:10. Who is wise, and he shall understand these things?  prudent, and
he shall know these things?  for the ways of the Lord are right, and the
just shall walk in them:  but the transgressors shall fall in them.
THE PROPHECY OF JOEL
JOEL, whose name, according to ST. JEROME, signifies THE LORD GOD:  or,
as others say, THE COMING DOWN OF GOD:  prophesied about the same time
in the kingdom of Judea, as OSEE did in the kingdom of Israel.  He
foretells under figure the great evils that were coming upon the people
for their sins:  earnestly exhorts them to repentance:  and comforts them
with the promise of a TEACHER OF JUSTICE, viz., CHRIST JESUS OUR LORD,
and of the coming down of his holy SPIRIT.
Joel Chapter 1
The prophet describes the judgments that shall fall upon the people,
and invites them to fasting and prayer.
1:1. The word of the Lord, that came to Joel, the son of Phatuel.
1:2. Hear this, ye old men, and give ear, all ye inhabitants of the
land:  did this ever happen in your days, or in the days of your
1:3. Tell ye of this to your children, and let your children tell their
children, and their children to another generation.
1:4. That which the palmerworm hath left, the locust hath eaten:  and
that which the locust hath left, the bruchus hath eaten:  and that which
the bruchus hath left, the mildew hath destroyed.
That which the palmerworm hath left, etc. . .Some understand this
literally of the desolation of the land by these insects:  others
understand it of the different invasions of the Chaldeans, or other
1:5. Awake, ye that are drunk, and weep, and mourn all ye that take
delight; in drinking sweet wine:  for it is cut off from your mouth.
1:6. For a nation come up upon my land, strong, and without number:  his
teeth are like the teeth of a lion:  and his cheek teeth as of a lion's
1:7. He hath laid my vineyard waste, and hath pilled off the bark of my
fig tree:  he hath stripped it bare, and cast it away; the branches
thereof are made white.
1:8. Lament like a virgin girded with sackcloth for the husband of her
1:9. Sacrifice and libation is cut off from the house of the Lord:  the
priests, the Lord's ministers, have mourned:
1:10. The country is destroyed, the ground hath mourned:  for the corn
is wasted, the wine is confounded, the oil hath languished.
1:11. The husbandmen are ashamed, the vinedressers have howled for the
wheat, and for the barley, because the harvest of the field is
1:12. The vineyard is confounded, and the fig tree hath languished:  the
pomegranate tree, and the palm tree, and the apple tree, and all the
trees of the field are withered:  because joy is withdrawn from the
children of men.
1:13. Gird yourselves, and lament, O ye priests, howl, ye ministers of
the altars:  go in, lie in sackcloth, ye ministers of my God:  because
sacrifice and libation is cut off from the house of your God.
1:14. Sanctify ye a fast, call an assembly, gather together the
ancients, all the inhabitants of the land into the house of your God:
and cry ye to the Lord:
1:15. Ah, ah, ah, for the day:  because the day of the Lord is at hand,
and it shall come like destruction from the mighty.
1:16. Is not your food cut off before your eyes, joy and gladness from
the house of our God?
1:17. The beasts have rotted in their dung, the barns are destroyed,
the storehouses are broken down:  because the corn is confounded.
1:18. Why did the beasts groan, why did the herds of cattle low?
because there is no pasture for them:  yea, and the flocks of sheep are
1:19. To thee, O Lord, will I cry:  because fire hath devoured the
beautiful places of the wilderness:  and the flame hath burnt all the
trees of the country.
1:20. Yea, and the beasts of the field have looked up to thee, as a
garden bed that thirsteth after rain, for the springs of waters are
dried up, and fire hath devoured the beautiful places of the
Joel Chapter 2
2:1. Blow ye the trumpet in Sion, sound an alarm in my holy mountain,
let all the inhabitants of the land tremble:  because the day of the
Lord cometh, because it is nigh at hand.
The day of the Lord. . .That is, the time when he will execute justice
upon sinners.
2:2. A day of darkness, and of gloominess, a day of clouds and
whirlwinds:  a numerous and strong people as the morning spread upon the
mountains:  the like to it hath not been from the beginning, nor shall
be after it, even to the years of generation and generation.
A numerous and strong people. . .The Assyrians, or Chaldeans.  Others
understand all this of an army of locusts laying waste the land.
2:3. Before the face thereof a devouring fire, and behind it a burning
flame:  the land is like a garden of pleasure before it, and behind it a
desolate wilderness, neither is there any one that can escape it.
2:4. The appearance of them is as the appearance of horses, and they
shall run like horsemen.
2:5. They shall leap like the noise of chariots upon the tops of
mountains, like the noise of a flame of fire devouring the stubble, as
a strong people prepared to battle.
2:6. At their presence the people shall be in grievous pains:  all faces
shall be made like a kettle.
2:7. They shall run like valiant men:  like men of war they shall scale
the wall:  the men shall march every one on his way, and they shall not
turn aside from their ranks.
2:8. No one shall press upon his brother:  they shall walk every one in
his path:  yea, and they shall fall through the windows, and shall take
2:9. They shall enter into the city:  they shall run upon the wall, they
shall climb up the houses, they shall come in at the windows, as a
2:10. At their presence the earth hath trembled, the heavens are moved:
the sun and moon are darkened, and the stars have withdrawn their
2:11. And the Lord hath uttered his voice before the face of his army:
for his armies are exceedingly great, for they are strong, and execute
his word:  for the day of the Lord is great and very terrible:  and who
can stand it?
2:12. Now, therefore, saith the Lord.  Be converted to me with all your
heart, in fasting, and in weeping, and mourning.
2:13. And rend your hearts, and not your garments and turn to the Lord
your God:  for he is gracious and merciful, patient and rich in mercy,
and ready to repent of the evil.
2:14. Who knoweth but he will return, and forgive, and leave a blessing
behind him, sacrifice and libation to the Lord your God?
2:15. Blow the trumpet in Sion, sanctify a fast, call a solemn
2:16. Gather together the people, sanctify the church, assemble the
ancients, gather together the little ones, and them that suck at the
breasts:  let the bridegroom go forth from his bed, and the bride out of
her bridal chamber.
2:17. Between the porch and the altar the priests, the Lord's
ministers, shall weep, and shall say:  Spare, O Lord, spare thy people:
and give not thy inheritance to reproach, that the heathens should rule
over them.  Why should they say among the nations:  Where is their God?
2:18. The Lord hath been zealous for his land, and hath spared his
2:19. And the Lord answered, and said to his people:  Behold I will send
you corn, and wine, and oil, and you shall be filled with them:  and I
will no more make you a reproach among the nations.
2:20. And I will remove far off from you the northern enemy:  and I will
drive him into a land unpassable, and desert, with his face towards the
east sea, and his hinder part towards the utmost sea:  and his stench
shall ascend, and his rottenness shall go up, because he hath done
The northern enemy. . .Some understand this of Holofernes and his army:
others, of the locusts.
2:21. Fear not, O land, be glad, and rejoice:  for the Lord hath done
great things.
2:22. Fear not, ye beasts of the fields:  for the beautiful places of
the wilderness are sprung, for the tree hath brought forth its fruit,
the fig tree, and the vine have yielded their strength.
2:23. And you, O children of Sion, rejoice, and be joyful in the Lord
your God:  because he hath given you a teacher of justice, and he will
make the early and the latter rain to come down to you as in the
2:24. And the floors shall be filled with wheat, and the presses shall
overflow with wine, and oil.
2:25. And I will restore to you the years which the locust, and the
bruchus, and the mildew, and the palmerworm hath eaten; my great host
which I sent upon you.
2:26. And you shall eat in plenty, and shall be filled and you shall
praise the name of the Lord your God; who hath done wonders with you,
and my people shall not be confounded for ever.
2:27. And you shall know that I am in the midst of Israel:  and I am the
Lord your God, and there is none besides:  and my people shall not be
confounded forever.
2:28. And it shall come to pass after this, that I will pour out my
spirit upon all flesh:  and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy:
your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.
2:29. Moreover, upon my servants and handmaids in those days I will
pour forth my spirit.
2:30. And I will shew wonders in heaven; and in earth, blood, and fire,
and vapour of smoke.
2:31. The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood:
before the great and dreadful day of the Lord doth come.
2:32. And it shall come to pass, that every one that shall call upon
the name of the Lord, shall be saved:  for in Mount Sion, and in
Jerusalem shall be salvation, as the Lord hath said, and in the residue
whom the Lord shall call.
Joel Chapter 3
3:1. For behold in those days, and in that time when I shall bring back
the captivity of Juda, and Jerusalem:
3:2. I will gather together all nations and will bring them down into
the valley of Josaphat:  and I will plead with them there for my people,
and for my inheritance, Israel, whom they have scattered among the
nations, and have parted my land.
3:3. And they have cast lots upon my people:  and the boy they have put
in the stews, and the girl they have sold for wine, that they might
3:4. But what have you to do with me, O Tyre, and Sidon, and all the
coast of the Philistines?  will you revenge yourselves on me?  and if you
revenge yourselves on me, I will very soon return you a recompense upon
your own head.
3:5. For you have taken away my silver, and my gold:  and my desirable,
and most beautiful things you have carried into your temples.
3:6. And the children of Juda, and the children of Jerusalem, you have
sold to the children of the Greeks, that you might remove them far off
from their own country.
3:7. Behold, I will raise them up out of the place wherein you have
sold them:  and I will return your recompense upon your own heads.
3:8. And I will sell your sons, and your daughters, by the hands of the
children of Juda, and they shall sell them to the Sabeans, a nation far
off, for the Lord hath spoken it.
3:9. Proclaim ye this among the nations:  Prepare war, raise up the
strong:  let them come, let all the men of war come up.
3:10. Cut your ploughshares into swords, and your spades into spears.
Let the weak say:  I am strong.
3:11. Break forth, and come, all ye nations from round about, and
gather yourselves together:  there will the Lord cause all thy strong
ones to fall down.
3:12. Let them arise, and let the nations come up into the valley of
Josaphat:  for there I will sit to judge all nations round about.
3:13. Put ye in the sickles, for the harvest is ripe:  come and go down,
for the press is full, the fats run over:  for their wickedness is
3:14. Nations, nations in the valley of destruction:  for the day of the
Lord is near in the valley of destruction.
3:15. The sun and the moon are darkened, and the stars have withdrawn
their shining.
3:16. And the Lord shall roar out of Sion, and utter his voice from
Jerusalem:  and the heavens and the earth shall be moved, and the Lord
shall be the hope of his people, and the strength of the children of
3:17. And you shall know that I am the Lord your God, dwelling in Sion,
my holy mountain:  and Jerusalem shall be holy, and strangers shall pass
through it no more.
3:18. And it shall come to pass in that day, that the mountains shall
drop down sweetness, aud the hills shall flow with milk:  and waters
shall flow through all the rivers of Juda:  and a fountain shall come
forth of the house of the Lord, and shall water the torrent of thorns.
A fountain shall come forth of the house of the Lord, etc. . .Viz., the
fountain of grace in the church militant, and of glory in the church
triumphant:  which shall water the torrent or valley of thorns, that is,
the souls that before, like barren ground brought forth nothing but
thorns; or that were afflicted with the thorns of crosses and
tribulations.
3:19. Egypt shall be a desolation, and Edom a wilderness destroyed:
because they have done unjustly against the children of Juda, and have
shed innocent blood in their land.
3:20. And Judea shall be inhabited for ever, and Jerusalem to
generation and generation.
Judea--and Jerusalem. . .That is, the spiritual Jerusalem, viz., the
church of Christ.
3:21. And I will cleanse their blood, which I had not cleansed:  and the
Lord will dwell in Sion.
THE PROPHECY OF AMOS
AMOS prophesied in Israel about the same time as OSEE:  and was called
from following the cattle to denounce GOD'S judgments to the people of
Israel, and the neighbouring nations, for their repeated crimes, in
which they continued without repentance.
Amos Chapter 1
The prophet threatens Damascus, Gaza, Tyre, Edom, and Ammon with the
judgments of God, for their obstinacy in sin.
1:1. The words of Amos, who was among the herdsmen of Thecua:  which he
saw concerning Israel in the days of Ozias king of Juda, and in the
days of Jeroboam the son of Joas king of Israel two years before the
The earthquake. . .Many understand this of a great earthquake, which
they say was felt at the time that king Ozias attempted to offer
incense in the temple.  But the best chronologists prove that the
earthquake here spoken of must have been before that time:  because
Jeroboam the second, under whom Amos prophesied, was dead long before
that attempt of Ozias.
1:2. And he said:  The Lord will roar from Sion, and utter his voice
from Jerusalem:  and the beautiful places of the shepherds have mourned,
and the top of Carmel is withered.
1:3. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of Damascus, and for four I
will not convert it:  because they have thrashed Galaad with iron wains.
For three crimes--and for four. . .That is, for their many unrepented of
crimes.--Ibid.  I will not convert it. . .That is, I will not spare them,
nor turn away the punishments I design to inflict upon them.
1:4. And I will send a fire into the house of Azael, and it shall
devour the houses of Benadad.
1:5. And I will break the bar of Damascus:  and I will cut off the
inhabitants from the plain of the idol, and him that holdeth the
sceptre from the house of pleasure:  and the people of Syria shall be
carried away to Cyrene, saith the Lord.
1:6. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of Gaza, and for four I will
not convert it:  because they have carried away a perfect captivity to
shut them up in Edom.
1:7. And I will send a fire on the wall of Gaza, and it shall devour
the houses thereof.
1:8. And I will cut off the inhabitant from Azotus, and him that
holdeth the sceptre from Ascalon:  and I will turn my hand against
Accaron, and the rest of the Philistines shall perish, saith the Lord
1:9. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of Tyre, and for four I will
not convert it:  because they have shut up an entire captivity in Edom,
and have not remembered the covenant of brethren.
1:10. And I will send a fire upon the wall of Tyre, and it shall devour
the houses thereof.
1:11. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of Edom, and for four I
will not convert him:  because he hath pursued his brother with the
sword, and hath carried on his fury, and hath kept his wrath to the
1:12. I will send a fire into Theman:  and it shall devour the houses of
1:13. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of the children of Ammon,
and for four I will not convert him:  because he hath ripped up the
women with child of Galaad to enlarge his border.
1:14. And I will kindle a fire in the wall of Rabba:  and it shall
devour the houses thereof with shouting in the day of battle, and with
a whirlwind in the day of trouble.
1:15. And Melchom shall go into captivity, both he, and his princes
together, saith the Lord.
Melchom. . .The god or idol of the Ammonites, otherwise called Moloch,
and Melech:  which in Hebrew signifies a king, and Melchom their king.
Amos Chapter 2
The judgments with which God threatens Moab, Juda, and Israel for their
sins, and their ingratitude.
2:1. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of Moab, and for four I will
not convert him:  because he hath burnt the bones of the king of Edom
even to ashes.
2:2. And I will send a fire into Moab, and it shall devour the houses
of Carioth:  and Moab shall die with a noise, with the sound of the
2:3. And I will cut off the judge from the midst thereof, and will slay
all his princes with him, saith the Lord.
2:4. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of Juda, and for four I will
not convert him:  because he hath cast away the law of the Lord, and
hath not kept his commandments:  for their idols have caused them to
err, after which their fathers have walked.
2:5. And I will send a fire into Juda, and it shall devour the houses
of Jerusalem.
2:6. Thus saith the Lord:  For three crimes of Israel, and for four I
will not convert him:  because he hath sold the just man for silver, and
the poor man for a pair of shoes.
2:7. They bruise the heads of the poor upon the dust of the earth, and
turn aside the way of the humble:  and the son and his father have gone
to the same young woman, to profane my holy name.
2:8. And they sat down upon garments laid to pledge by every altar:  and
drank the wine of the condemned in the house of their God.
2:9. Yet I cast out the Amorrhite before their face:  whose height was
like the height of cedars, and who was strong as an oak:  and I
destroyed his fruit from above, and his roots beneath.
2:10. It is I that brought you up out of the land of Egypt, and I led
you forty years through the wilderness, that you might possess the land
of the Amorrhite.
2:11. And I raised up of your sons for prophets, and of your young men
for Nazarites.  Is it not so, O ye children of Israel, saith the Lord?
2:12. And you will present wine to the Nazarites:  and command the
prophets, saying:  Prophesy not.
2:13. Behold, I will screak under you as a wain screaketh that is laden
I will screak. . .Unable to bear any longer the enormous load of your
sins, etc.  The spirit of God, as St. Jerome takes notice, accommodates
himself to the education of the prophet and inspires him with
comparisons taken from country affairs.
2:14. And flight shall perish from the swift, and the valiant shall not
possess his strength, neither shall the strong save his life.
2:15. And he that holdeth the bow shall not stand, and the swift of
foot shall not escape, neither shall the rider of the horse save his
2:16. And the stout of heart among the valiant shall flee away naked in
that day, saith the Lord.
Amos Chapter 3
The evils that shall fall upon Israel for their sins.
3:1. Hear the word that the Lord hath spoken concerning you, O ye
children of Israel:  concerning the whole family that I brought up out
of the land of Egypt, saying:
3:2. You only have I known of all the families of the earth:  therefore
will I visit upon you all your iniquities.
Visit upon. . .That is, punish.
3:3. Shall two walk together except they be agreed?
3:4. Will a lion roar in the forest, if he have no prey?  will the
lion's whelp cry out of his den, if he have taken nothing?
3:5. Will the bird fall into the snare upon the earth, if there be no
fowler?  Shall the snare be taken up from the earth, before it hath
taken somewhat?
3:6. Shall the trumpet sound in a city, and the people not be afraid?
Shall there be evil in a city, which the Lord hath not done?
Evil in a city. . .He speaks of the evil of punishments of war, famine,
pestilence, desolation, etc., but not of the evil of sin, of which God
is not the author.
3:7. For the Lord God doth nothing without revealing his secret to his
servants the prophets.
3:8. The lion shall roar, who will not fear?  The Lord God hath spoken,
who shall not prophesy?
3:9. Publish it in the houses of Azotus, and in the houses of the land
of Egypt, and say:  Assemble yourselves upon the mountains of Samaria,
and behold the many follies in the midst thereof, and them that suffer
oppression in the inner rooms thereof.
3:10. And they have not known to do the right thing, saith the Lord,
storing up iniquity, and robberies in their houses.
3:11. Therefore thus saith the Lord God:  The land shall be in
tribulation, and shall be compassed about:  and thy strength shall be
taken away from thee, and thy houses shall be spoiled.
3:12. Thus saith the Lord:  As if a shepherd should get out of the
lion's mouth two legs, or the tip of the ear:  so shall the children of
Israel be taken out that dwell in Samaria, in a place of a bed, and in
the couch of Damascus.
3:13. Hear ye, and testify in the house of Jacob, saith the Lord the
God of hosts:
3:14. That in the day when I shall begin to visit the transgressions of
Israel, I will visit upon him, and upon the altars of Bethel:  and the
horns of the altars shall be cut off, and shall fall to the ground.
3:15. And I will strike the winter house with the summer house:  and the
houses of ivory shall perish, and many houses shall be destroyed, saith
Amos Chapter 4
The Israelites are reproved for their oppressing the poor, for their
idolatry, and their incorrigibleness.
4:1. Hear this word, ye fat kine that are in the mountains of Samaria:
you that oppress the needy, and crush the poor:  that say to your
masters:  Bring, and we will drink.
Fat kine. . .He means the great ones that lived in plenty and wealth.
4:2. The Lord God hath sworn by his holiness, that lo, the days shall
come upon you, when they shall lift you up on pikes, and what shall
remain of you in boiling pots.
4:3. And you shall go out at the breaches one over against the other,
and you shall be cast forth into Armon, saith the Lord.
Armon. . .A foreign country; some understand it of Armenia.
4:4. Come ye to Bethel, and do wickedly:  to Galgal, and multiply
transgressions:  and bring in the morning your victims, your tithes in
4:5. And offer a sacrifice of praise with leaven:  and call free
offerings, and proclaim it:  for so you would do, O children of Israel,
saith the Lord God.
4:6. Whereupon I also have given you dulness of teeth in all your
cities, and want of bread in all your places:  yet you have not returned
to me, saith the Lord.
4:7. I also have withholden the rain from you, when there were yet
three months to the harvest:  and I caused it to rain upon on city, and
caused it not to rain upon another city:  one piece was rained upon:  and
the piece whereupon I rained not, withered.
4:8. And two and three cities went to one city to drink water, and were
not filled:  yet you returned not to me, saith the Lord.
4:9. I struck you with a burning wind, and with mildew, the palmerworm
hath eaten up your many gardens, and your vineyards:  your olive groves,
and fig groves:  yet you returned not to me, saith the Lord.
4:10. I sent death upon you in the way of Egypt, I slew your young men
with the sword, even to the captivity of your horses:  and I made the
stench of your camp to come up into your nostrils:  yet you returned not
to me, saith the Lord.
4:11. I destroyed some of you, as God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrha, and
you were as a firebrand plucked out of the burning:  yet you returned
not to me, saith the Lord.
4:12. Therefore I will do these things to thee, O Israel:  and after I
shall have done these things to thee, be prepared to meet thy God, O
4:13. For behold he that formeth the mountains and createth the wind,
and declareth his word to man, he that maketh the morning mist, and
walketh upon the high places of the earth:  the Lord the God of hosts is
Amos Chapter 5
A lamentation for Israel:  an exhortation to return to God.
5:1. Hear ye this word, which I take up concerning you for a
lamentation.  The house of Israel is fallen, and it shall rise no more.
5:2. The virgin of Israel is cast down upon her land, there is none to
raise her up.
5:3. For thus saith the Lord God:  The city, out of which came forth a
thousand, there shall be left in it a hundred:  and out of which there
came a hundred, there shall be left in it ten, in the house of Israel.
5:4. For thus saith the Lord to the house of Israel:  Seek ye me, and
you shall live.
5:5. But seek not Bethel, and go not into Galgal, neither shall you
pass over to Bersabee:  for Galgal shall go into captivity, and Bethel
shall be unprofitable.
Bethel,--Galgal,--Bersabee. . .The places where they worshipped their
5:6. Seek ye the Lord, and live:  lest the house of Joseph be burnt with
fire, and it shall devour, and there shall be none to quench Bethel.
5:7. You that turn judgment into wormwood, and forsake justice in the
5:8. Seek him that maketh Arcturus, and Orion, and that turneth
darkness into morning, and that changeth day into night:  that calleth
the waters of the sea, and poureth them out upon the face of the earth:
The Lord is his name.
Arcturus and Orion. . .Arcturus is a bright star in the north:  Orion a
beautiful constellation in the south.
5:9. He that with a smile bringeth destruction upon the strong, and
waste upon the mighty.
With a smile. . .That is, with all ease, and without making any effort.
5:10. They have hated him that rebuketh in the gate:  and have abhorred
him that speaketh perfectly.
5:11. Therefore because you robbed the poor, and took the choice prey
from him:  you shall build houses with square stone, and shall not dwell
in them:  you shall plant most delightful vineyards, and shall not drink
the wine of them.
5:12. Because I know your manifold crimes, and your grievous sins:
enemies of the just, taking bribes, and oppressing the poor in the
5:13. Therefore the prudent shall keep silence at that time, for it is
an evil time.
5:14. Seek ye good, and not evil, that you may live:  and the Lord the
God of hosts will be with you, as you have said.
5:15. Hate evil, and love good, and establish judgment in the gate:  it
may be the Lord the God of hosts may have mercy on the remnant of
5:16. Therefore thus saith the Lord the God of hosts the sovereign
Lord:  In every street there shall be wailing:  and in all places that
are without, they shall say:  Alas, alas! and they shall call the
husbandman to mourning, and such as are skilful in lamentation to
5:17. And in all vineyards there shall be wailing:  because I will pass
through in the midst of thee, saith the Lord.
5:18. Woe to them that desire the day of the Lord:  to what end is it
for you?  the day of the Lord is darkness, and not light.
5:19. As if a man should flee from the face of a lion, and a bear
should meet him:  or enter into the house, and lean with his hand upon
the wall, and a serpent should bite him.
5:20. Shall not the day of the Lord be darkness, and not light:  and
obscurity, and no brightness in it?
5:21. I hate, and have rejected your festivities:  and I will not
receive the odour of your assemblies.
5:22. And if you offer me holocausts, and your gifts, I will not
receive them:  neither will I regard the vows of your fat beasts.
5:23. Take away from me the tumult of thy songs:  and I will not hear
the canticles of thy harp.
5:24. But judgment shall be revealed as water, and justice as a mighty
5:25. Did you offer victims and sacrifices to me in the desert for
forty years, O house of Israel?
Did you offer, etc. . .Except the sacrifices that were offered at the
first, in the dedication of the tabernacle, the Israelites offered no
sacrifices in the desert.
5:26.But you carried a tabernacle for your Moloch, and the image of
your idols, the star of your god, which you made to yourselves.
A tabernacle, etc. . .All this alludes to the idolatry which they
committed, when they were drawn away by the daughters of Moab to the
worship of their gods.  Num. 25.
5:27. And I will cause you to go into captivity beyond Damascus, saith
the Lord, the God of hosts is his name.
Amos Chapter 6
The desolation of Israel for their pride and luxury.
6:1. Woe to you that are wealthy in Sion, and to you that have
confidence in the mountain of Samaria:  ye great men, heads of the
people, that go in with state into the house of Israel.
6:2. Pass ye over to Chalane, and see, and go from thence into Emath
the great:  and go down into Geth of the Philistines, and to all the
best kingdoms of these:  if their border be larger than your border.
6:3. You that are separated unto the evil day:  and that approach to the
throne of iniquity;
6:4. You that sleep upon beds of ivory, and are wanton on your couches:
that eat the lambs out of the flock, and the calves out of the midst of
6:5. You that sing to the sound of the psaltery:  they have thought
themselves to have instruments of music like David;
6:6. That drink wine in bowls, and anoint themselves with the best
ointments:  and they are not concerned for the affliction of Joseph.
6:7. Wherefore now they shall go captive at the head of them that go
into captivity:  and the faction of the luxurious ones shall be taken
6:8. The Lord God hath sworn by his own soul, saith the Lord the God of
hosts:  I detest the pride of Jacob, and I hate his houses, and I will
deliver up the city with the inhabitants thereof.
6:9. And if there remain ten men in one house, they also shall die.
6:10. And a man's kinsman shall take him up, and shall burn him, that
he may carry the bones out of the house; and he shall say to him that
is in the inner rooms of the house:  Is there yet any with thee?
6:11. And he shall answer:  There is an end.  And he shall say to him:
Hold thy peace, and mention not the name of the Lord.
6:12. For behold the Lord hath commanded, and he will strike the
greater house with breaches, and the lesser house with clefts.
6:13. Can horses run upon the rocks, or can any one plough with
buffles?  for you have turned judgment into bitterness, and the fruit of
justice into wormwood.
6:14. You that rejoice in a thing of nought:  you that say:  Have we not
taken unto us horns by our own strength?
6:15. But behold, I will raise up a nation against you, O house of
Israel, saith the Lord the God of hosts; and they shall destroy you
from the entrance of Emath, even to the torrent of the desert.
Amos Chapter 7
The prophet sees, in three visions, evils coming upon Israel:  he is
accused of treason by the false priest of Bethel.
7:1. These things the Lord God shewed to me:  and behold the locust was
formed in the beginning of the shooting up of the latter rain, and lo,
it was the latter rain after the king's mowing.
The locust, etc. . .These judgments by locusts and fire, which, by the
prophet's intercession, were moderated, signify the former invasions of
the Assyrians under Phul and Theglathphalasar, before the utter
desolation of Israel by Salmanasar.
7:2. And it came to pass, that when they had made an end of eating the
grass of the land, I said:  O Lord God, be merciful, I beseech thee:  who
shall raise up Jacob, for he is very little?
7:3. The Lord had pity upon this:  It shall not be, said the Lord.
7:4. These things the Lord God shewed to me:  and behold the Lord called
for judgment unto fire, and it devoured the great deep, and ate up a
part at the same time.
7:5. And I said:  O Lord God, cease, I beseech thee, who shall raise up
Jacob, for he is a little one?
7:6. The Lord had pity upon this.  Yea this also shall not be, said the
7:7. These things the Lord shewed to me:  and behold the Lord was
standing upon a plastered wall, and in his hand a mason's trowel.
7:8. And the Lord said to me:  What seest thou, Amos?  And I said:  A
mason's trowel.  And the Lord said:  Behold, I will lay down the trowel
in the midst of my people Israel.  I will plaster them over no more.
7:9. And the high places of the idol shall be thrown down, and the
sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste:  and I will rise up against
the house of Jeroboam with the sword.
7:10. And Amasias the priest of Bethel sent to Jeroboam king of Israel,
saying:  Amos hath rebelled against thee in the midst of the house of
Israel:  the land is not able to bear all his words.
7:11. For thus saith Amos:  Jeroboam shall die by the sword, and Israel
shall be carried away captive out of their own land.
Jeroboam shall die by the sword. . .The prophet did not say this; but
that the Lord would rise up against the house of Jeroboam with the
sword:  which was verified, when Zacharias, the son and successor of
Jeroboam, was slain by the sword.  4 Kings 15.10.
7:12. And Amasias said to Amos:  Thou seer, go, flee away into the land
of Juda:  and eat bread there, and prophesy there.
7:13. But prophesy not again any more in Bethel:  because it is the
king's sanctuary, and it is the house of the kingdom.
7:14. And Amos answered and said to Amasias:  I am not a prophet, nor am
I the son of a prophet:  but I am a herdsman plucking wild figs.
I am not a prophet. . .That is, I am not a prophet by education:  nor is
prophesying my calling or profession:  but I am a herdsman, whom God was
pleased to send hither to prophesy to Israel.
7:15. And the Lord took me when I followed the flock, and the Lord said
to me:  Go, prophesy to my people Israel.
7:16. And now hear thou the word of the Lord:  Thou sayest, thou shalt
not prophesy against Israel, and thou shalt not drop thy word upon the
house of the idol.
The house of the idol. . .Viz., of the calf worshipped in Bethel.
7:17. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  Thy wife shall play the harlot in
the city, and thy sons and thy daughters shall fall by the sword, and
thy land shall be measured by a line:  and thou shalt die in a polluted
land, and Israel shall go into captivity out of their land.
Amos Chapter 8
Under the figure of a hook, which bringeth down the fruit, the
approaching desolation of Israel is foreshewed for their avarice and
8:1. These things the Lord shewed to me:  and behold a hook to draw down
8:2. And he said:  What seest thou, Amos?  And I said:  A hook to draw
down fruit.  And the Lord said to me:  The end is come upon my people
Israel:  I will not again pass by them any more.
8:3. And the hinges of the temple shall screak in that day, saith the
Lord God:  many shall die:  silence shall be cast in every place.
8:4. Hear this, you that crush the poor, and make the needy of the land
8:5. Saying:  When will the month be over, and we shall sell our wares:
and the sabbath, and we shall open the corn:  that we may lessen the
measure, and increase the sicle, and may convey in deceitful balances,
8:6. That we may possess the needy for money, and the poor for a pair
of shoes, and may sell the refuse of the corn?
8:7. The Lord hath sworn against the pride of Jacob:  surely I will
never forget all their works.
8:8. Shall not the land tremble for this, and every one mourn that
dwelleth therein:  and rise up altogether as a river, and be cast out,
and run down as the river of Egypt?
8:9. And it shall come to pass in that day, saith the Lord God, that
the sun shall go down at midday, and I will make the earth dark in the
day of light:
8:10. And I will turn your feasts into mourning, and all your songs
into lamentation:  and I will bring up sackcloth upon every back of
yours, and baldness upon every head:  and I will make it as the mourning
of an only son, and the latter end thereof as a bitter day.
8:11. Behold the days come, saith the Lord, and I will send forth a
famine into the land:  not a famine of bread, nor a thirst of water, but
of hearing the word of the Lord.
8:12. And they shall move from sea to sea, and from the north to the
east:  they shall go about seeking the word of the Lord, and shall not
8:13. In that day the fair virgins, and the young men shall faint for
8:14. They that swear by the sin of Samaria, and say:  Thy God, O Dan,
liveth:  and the way of Bersabee liveth:  and they shall fall, and shall
rise no more.
Amos Chapter 9
The certainty of the desolation of Israel:  the restoring of the
tabernacle of David, and the conversion of the Gentiles to the church;
which shall flourish for ever.
9:1. I saw the Lord standing upon the altar, and he said:  Strike the
hinges, and let the lintels be shook:  for there is covetousness in the
head of them all, and I will slay the last of them with the sword:
there shall be no flight for them:  they shall flee, and he that shall
flee of them shall not be delivered.
9:2. Though they go down even to hell, thence shall my hand bring them
out:  and though they climb up to heaven, thence will I bring them down.
9:3. And though they be hid in the top of Carmel, I will search and
take them away from thence:  and though they hide themselves from my
eyes in the depth of the sea, there will I command the serpent and he
shall bite them.
9:4. And if they go into captivity before their enemies, there will I
command the sword, and it shall kill them.  And I will set my eyes upon
them for evil, and not for good.
9:5. And the Lord the God of hosts is he who toucheth the earth, and it
shall melt:  and all that dwell therein shall mourn:  and it shall rise
up as a river, and shall run down as the river of Egypt.
9:6. He that buildeth his ascension in heaven, and hath founded his
bundle upon the earth:  who calleth the waters of the sea, and poureth
them out upon the face of the earth, the Lord is his name.
His ascension. . .That is, his high throne.--Ibid.  His bundle. . .That
is, his church bound up together by the bands of one faith and communion.
9:7. Are not you as the children of the Ethiopians unto me, O children
of Israel, saith the Lord?  did not I bring up Israel, out of the land
of Egypt:  and the Philistines out of Cappadocia, and the Syrians out of
As the children of the Ethiopians. . .That is, as black as they, by your
9:8. Behold the eyes of the Lord God are upon the sinful kingdom, and I
will destroy it from the face of the earth:  but yet I will not utterly
destroy the house of Jacob, saith the Lord.
9:9. For behold I will command, and I will sift the house of Israel
among all nations, as corn is sifted in a sieve:  and there shall not a
little stone fall to the ground.
9:10. All the sinners of my people shall fall by the sword:  who say:
The evils shall not approach, and shall not come upon us.
9:11. In that day I will raise up the tabernacle of David, that is
fallen:  and I will close up the breaches of the walls thereof, and
repair what was fallen:  and I will rebuild it as in the days of old.
9:12. That they may possess the remnant of Edom, and all nations,
because my name is invoked upon them:  saith the Lord that doth these
9:13. Behold the days come, saith the Lord, when the ploughman shall
overtake the reaper, and the treader of grapes him that soweth seed:
and the mountains shall drop sweetness, and every hill shall be tilled.
Shall overtake, etc. . .By this is meant the great abundance of
spiritual blessings; which, as it were, by a constant succession, shall
enrich the church of Christ.
9:14. And I will bring back the captivity of my people Israel:  and they
shall build the abandoned cities, and inhabit them:  and they shall
plant vineyards, and drink the wine of them:  and shall make gardens,
and eat the fruits of them.  And I will plant them upon their own land:
and I will no more pluck them out of their land which I have given
them, saith the Lord thy God.
THE PROPHECY OF ABDIAS
ABDIAS, whose name is interpreted THE SERVANT OF THE LORD, is believed
to have prophesied about the same time as OSEE, JOEL, and AMOS:  though
some of the Hebrews, who believe him to be the same with ACHAB's
steward, make him much more ancient.  His prophecy is the shortest of
any in number of words, but yields to none, says ST. JEROME, in the
sublimity of mysteries.  It contains but one chapter.
Abdias Chapter 1
The destruction of Edom for their pride:  and the wrongs they did to
Jacob:  the salvation and victory of Israel.
1:1. The vision of Abdias.  Thus saith the Lord God to Edom:  We have
heard a rumour from the Lord, and he hath sent an ambassador to the
nations:  Arise, and let us rise up to battle against him.
1:2. Behold I have made thee small among the nations:  thou art
exceeding contemptible.
1:3. The pride of thy heart hath lifted thee up, who dwellest in the
clefts of the rocks, and settest up thy throne on high:  who sayest in
thy heart:  Who shall bring me down to the ground?
1:4. Though thou be exalted as an eagle, and though thou set thy nest
among the stars:  thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord.
1:5. If thieves had gone in to thee, if robbers by night, how wouldst
thou have held thy peace?  would they not have stolen till they had
enough?  if the grapegatherers had come in to thee, would they not have
left thee at the least a cluster?
1:6. How have they searched Esau, how have they sought out his hidden
1:7. They have sent thee out even to the border:  all the men of thy
confederacy have deceived thee:  the men of thy peace have prevailed
against thee:  they that eat with thee shall lay snares under thee:
there is no wisdom in him.
1:8. Shall not I in that day, saith the Lord, destroy the wise out of
Edom, and understanding out of the mount of Esau?
1:9. And thy valiant men of the south shall be afraid, that man may be
cut off from the mount of Esau.
1:10. For the slaughter, and for the iniquity against thy brother
Jacob, confusion shall cover thee, and thou shalt perish for ever.
1:11. In the day when thou stoodest against him, when strangers carried
away his army captive, and foreigners entered into his gates, and cast
lots upon Jerusalem:  thou also wast as one of them.
1:12. But thou shalt not look on in the day of thy brother, in the day
of his leaving his country:  and thou shalt not rejoice over the
children of Juda, in the day of their destruction:  and thou shalt not
magnify thy mouth in the day of distress.
Thou shalt not look, etc. . .or, thou shouldst not, etc.  It is a
reprehension for what they had done, and at the same time a declaration
that these things should not pass unpunished.--Ibid.  Thou shalt not
magnify thy mouth. . .That is, thou shalt not speak arrogantly against
the children of Juda as insulting them in their distress.
1:13. Neither shalt thou enter into the gate of my people in the day of
their ruin:  neither shalt thou also look on in his evils in the day of
his calamity:  and thou shalt not be sent out against his army in the
day of his desolation.
1:14. Neither shalt thou stand in the crossways to kill them that flee:
and thou shalt not shut up them that remain of him in the day of
tribulation.
1:15. For the day of the Lord is at hand upon all nations:  as thou hast
done, so shall it be done to thee:  he will turn thy reward upon thy own
1:16. For as you have drunk upon my holy mountain, so all nations shall
drink continually:  and they shall drink, and sup up, and they shall be
as though they were not.
1:17. And in mount Sion shall be salvation, and it shall be holy, and
the house of Jacob shall possess those that possessed them.
1:18. And the house of Jacob shall be a fire, and the house of Joseph a
flame, and the house of Esau stubble:  and they shall be kindled in
them, and shall devour them:  and there shall be no remains of the house
of Esau, for the Lord hath spoken it.
1:19. And they that are toward the south, shall inherit the mount of
Esau, and they that are in the plains, the Philistines:  and they shall
possess the country of Ephraim, and the country of Samaria:  and
Benjamin shall possess Galaad.
1:20. And the captivity of this host of the children of Israel, all the
places of the Chanaanites even to Sarepta:  and the captivity of
Jerusalem that is in Bosphorus, shall possess the cities of the south.
1:21. And saviours shall come up into mount Sion to judge the mount of
Esau:  and the kingdom shall be for the Lord.
THE PROPHECY OF JONAS
JONAS prophesied in the reign of JEREBOAM the second:  as we learn from
4 Kings 14.25. To whom also he foretold his success in restoring all
the borders of Israel.  He was of GETH OPHER in the tribe of ZABULON,
and consequently of GALILEE:  which confutes that assertion of the
Pharisees, John 7.52, that no prophet ever rose out of GALILEE.  He
prophesied and prefigured in his own person the death and resurrection
of CHRIST:  and was the only one among the prophets that was sent to
preach to the Gentiles.
Jonas Chapter 1
Jonas being sent to preach in Ninive, fleeth away by sea:  a tempest
riseth:  of which he being found, by lot, to be the cause, is cast into
the sea, which thereupon is calmed.
1:1. Now the word of the Lord came to Jonas, the son of Amathi, saying:
1:2. Arise and go to Ninive, the great city, and preach in it:  For the
wickedness thereof is come up before me.
Nineve. . .The capital city of the Assyrian empire.
1:3. And Jonas rose up to flee into Tharsis from the face of the Lord,
and he went down to Joppe, and found a ship going to Tharsis:  and he
paid the fare thereof, and went down into it, to go with them to
Tharsis from the face of the Lord,
Tharsis. . .Which some take to be Tharsus of Cilicia, others to be
Tartessus of Spain, others to be Carthage.
1:4. But the Lord sent a great wind to the sea:  and a great tempest was
raised in the sea, and the ship was in danger to be broken.
1:5. And the mariners were afraid, and the men cried to their god:  and
they cast forth the wares that were in the ship, into the sea, to
lighten it of them:  and Jonas went down into the inner part of the
ship, and fell into a deep sleep.
A deep sleep. . .This is a lively image of the insensibility of sinners,
fleeing from God, and threatened on every side with his judgments:  and
yet sleeping as if they were secure.
1:6. And the ship master came to him and said to him:  Why art thou fast
asleep?  rise up call upon thy God, if so be that God will think of us
that we may not perish.
1:7. And they said every one to his fellow:  Come and let us cast lots,
that we may know why this evil is upon us.  And they cast lots, and the
lot fell upon Jonas.
1:8. And they said to him:  Tell us for what cause this evil is upon us,
what is thy business?  of what country art thou?  and whither goest thou?
or of what people art thou?
1:9. And he said to them:  I am a Hebrew, and I fear the Lord, and the
God of heaven, who made both the sea and the dry land.
1:10. And the men were greatly afraid, and they said to him:  Why hast
thou done this?  (For the men knew that he fled from the face of the
Lord:  because he had told them.)
1:11. And they said to him:  What shall we do with thee, that the sea
may be calm to us?  for the sea flowed and swelled.
1:12. And he said to them:  take me up, and cast me into the sea, and
the sea shall be calm to you:  for I know for my sake this great tempest
is upon you.
1:13. And the men rowed hard to return the land, but they were not
able:  because the sea tossed and swelled upon them.
1:14. And they cried to the Lord, and said:  We beseech thee, O Lord let
us not perish for this man's life, and lay not upon us innocent blood:
for thou, oh Lord, hast done as it pleased thee.
1:15. And they took Jonas, and cast him into the sea, and the sea
ceased from raging.
1:16. And the men feared the Lord exceedingly, and sacrificed victims
to the Lord, and made vows.
Jonas Chapter 2
Jonas is swallowed up by a great fish:  he prayeth with confidence in
God; and the fish casteth him out on the dry land.
2:1. Now the Lord prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonas:  and Jonas
was in the belly of a fish for three days and three nights.
2:2. And Jonas prayed to the Lord, his God, out of the belly of the
2:3. And he said:  I cried out of my affliction to the Lord, and he
heard me:  I cried out of the belly of hell, and thou hast heard my
2:4. And thou hast cast me forth into the deep, in the heart of the
sea, and a flood hast compassed me:  all thy billows, and thy waves have
passed over me.
2:5. And I said:  I am cast away out of the sight of thy eyes:  but yet I
shall see the holy temple again.
2:6. The waters compassed me about even to the soul:  the deep hath
closed me round about, the sea hath covered my head.
2:7. I went down to the lowest parts of the mountains:  the bars of the
earth have shut me up for ever:  and thou wilt bring up my life from
corruption, O Lord, my God.
2:8. When my soul was in distress within me, I remembered the Lord:
that my prayer may come to thee, unto the holy temple.
2:9. They that in vain observe vanities, forsake their own mercy.
2:10. But I with the voice of praise will sacrifice to thee:  I will pay
whatsoever I have vowed for my salvation to the Lord.
2:11. And the Lord spoke to the fish:  and it vomited out Jonas upon the
Spoke to the fish. . .God's speaking to the fish, was nothing else but
his will, which all things obey.
Jonas Chapter 3
Jonas is sent again to preach in Ninive.  Upon their fasting and
repentance, God recalleth the sentence by which they were to be
3:1. And the word of the Lord came to Jonas the second time saying:
3:2. Arise, and go to Ninive, the great city:  and preach in it the
preaching that I bid thee.
3:3. And Jonas arose, and went to Ninive, according to the word of the
Lord:  now Ninive was a great city of three days' journey.
Of three days' journey. . .By the computation of some ancient
historians, Ninive was about fifty miles round:  so that to go through
all the chief streets and public places was three days' journey.
3:4. And Jonas began to enter into the city one day's journey:  and he
cried and said:  Yet forty days and Ninive shall be destroyed.
3:5. And the men of Ninive believed in God:  and they proclaimed a fast,
and put on sackcloth from the greatest to the least.
3:6. And the word came to the king of Ninive:  and he rose up out of his
throne, and cast away his robe from him, and was clothed in sackcloth,
and sat in ashes.
3:7. And he caused it to be proclaimed and published in Ninive, from
the mouth of the king and of his princes, saying:  Let neither men nor
beasts, oxen, nor sheep taste anything:  let them not feed, nor drink
3:8. And let men and beasts be covered with sackcloth, and cry to the
Lord with all their strength, and let them turn every one from his evil
way, and from the iniquity that is in their hands.
3:9. Who can tell if God will turn, and forgive:  and will turn away
from his fierce anger, and we shall not perish?
3:10. And God saw their works, that they were turned from their evil
way:  and God had mercy with regard to the evil which he had said that
he would do to them, and he did it not.
Jonas Chapter 4
4:1. And Jonas was exceedingly troubled, and was angry:
Was exceedingly troubled, etc. . .His concern was lest he should pass
for a false prophet; or rather, lest God's word, by this occasion,
might come to be slighted and disbelieved.
4:2. And he prayed to the Lord, and said:  I beseech thee, O Lord, is
not this what I said, when I was yet in my own country?  therefore I
went before to flee into Tharsis:  for I know that thou art a gracious
and merciful God, patient, and of much compassion, and easy to forgive
4:3. And now, O Lord, I beseech thee take my life from me:  for it is
better for me to die than to live.
4:4. And the Lord said:  Dost thou think thou hast reason to be angry?
4:5. Then Jonas went out of the city, and sat toward the east side of
the city:  and he made himself a booth there, and he sat under it in the
shadow, till he might see what would befall the city.
4:6. And the Lord God prepared an ivy, and it came up over the head of
Jonas, to be a shadow over his head, and to cover him (for he was
fatigued):  and Jonas was exceeding glad of the ivy.
The Lord God prepared an ivy. . .Hederam.  In the Hebrew it is Kikajon,
which some render a gourd:  others a palmerist, or palma Christi.
4:7. But God prepared a worm, when the morning arose on the following
day:  and it struck the ivy and it withered.
4:8. And when the sun was risen, the Lord commanded a hot and burning
wind:  and the sun beat upon the head of Jonas, and he broiled with the
heat:  and he desired for his soul that he might die, and said:  It is
better for me to die than to live.
4:9. And the Lord said to Jonas:  Dost thou think thou hast reason to be
angry, for the ivy?  And he said:  I am angry with reason even unto
4:10. And the Lord said:  Thou art grieved for the ivy, for which thou
hast not laboured, nor made it to grow, which in one night came up, and
in one night perished.
4:11. And shall I not spare Ninive, that great city, in which there are
more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons, that know how to
distinguish between their right hand and their left, and many beasts?
THE PROPHECY OF MICHEAS
MICHEAS, of Morasti, a little town in the tribe of JUDA, was
contemporary with the prophet ISAIAS:  whom he resembles both in his
spirit and his style.  He is different from the prophet MICHEAS
mentioned in the third book of Kings, chap. 22.  For that MICHEAS lived
in the days of king ACHAB, one hundred and fifty years before the time
of EZECHIAS, under whom this MICHEAS prophesied.
Micheas Chapter 1
Samaria for her sins shall be destroyed by the Assyrians; they shall
also invade Juda and Jerusalem.
1:1. The word of the Lord, that came to Micheas, the Morasthite, in the
days of Joathan, Achaz, and Ezechias, kings of Juda:  which he saw
concerning Samaria and Jerusalem.
1:2. Hear, all ye people:  and let the earth give ear, and all that is
therein:  and let the Lord God be a witness to you, the Lord from his
holy temple.
1:3. For behold the Lord will come forth out of his place:  and he will
come down, and will tread upon the high places of the earth.
1:4. And the mountains shall be melted under him:  and the valleys shall
be cleft, as wax before the fire, and as waters that run down a steep
1:5. For the wickedness of Jacob is all this, and for the sins of the
house of Israel.  What is the wickedness of Jacob?  is it not Samaria?
and what are the high places of Juda?  are they not Jerusalem?
1:6. And I will make Samaria as a heap of stones in the field when a
vineyard is planted:  and I will bring down the stones thereof into the
valley, and will lay her foundations bare.
1:7. And all her graven things shall be cut in pieces, and all her
wages shall be burnt with fire, and I will bring to destruction all her
idols:  for they were gathered together of the hire of a harlot, and
unto the hire of a harlot they shall return.
Her wages. . .That is, her donaries or presents offered to her idols:  or
the hire of all her traffic and labour.--Ibid.  Of the hire of a harlot,
etc. . .They were gathered together by one idolatrous city, viz.,
Samaria:  and they shall be carried away to another idolatrous city,
viz., Ninive.
1:8. Therefore will I lament, and howl:  I will go stript and naked:  I
will make a wailing like the dragons, and a mourning like the
1:9. Because her wound is desperate, because it is come even to Juda,
it hath touched the gate of my people, even to Jerusalem.
It hath touched the gate, etc. . .That is, the destruction of Samaria
shall be followed by the invasion of my people of Juda, and the
Assyrians shall come and lay all waste even to the confines of
1:10. Declare ye it not in Geth, weep ye not with tears:  in the house
of Dust sprinkle yourselves with dust.
Declare ye it not in Geth. . .Viz., amongst the Philistines, lest they
rejoice at your calamity.--Ibid.  Weep ye not, etc. . .Keep in your
tears, that you may not give your enemies an occasion of insulting over
you; but in your own houses, or in your house of dust, your earthly
habitation, sprinkle yourselves with dust, and put on the habit of
penitents.  Some take the house of dust (in Hebrew, Aphrah) to be the
proper name of a city.
1:11. And pass away, O thou that dwellest in the beautiful place,
covered with thy shame:  she went not forth that dwelleth in the
confines:  the house adjoining shall receive mourning from you, which
stood by herself.
Thou that dwellest in the Beautiful place, viz., in Samaria.  In the
Hebrew the Beautiful place is expressed by the word Sapir, which some
take for the proper name of a city.--Ibid.  She went not forth,
etc. . .that is, they that dwelt in the confines came not forth, but kept
themselves within, for fear.--Ibid.  The house adjoining, etc. . .Viz.,
Judea and Jerusalem, neighbours to Samaria, and partners in her sins,
shall share also in her mourning and calamity; though they have
pretended to stand by themselves, trusting in their strength.
1:12. For she is become weak unto good that dwelleth in bitterness:  for
evil is come down from the Lord into the gate of Jerusalem.
She is become weak, etc. . .Jerusalem is become weak unto any good;
because she dwells in the bitterness of sin.
1:13. A tumult of chariots hath astonished the inhabitants of Lachis:
it is the beginning of sin to the daughter of Sion for in thee were
found the crimes of Israel.
It is the beginning, etc. . .That is, Lachis was the first city of Juda
that learned from Samaria the worship of idols, and communicated it to
1:14. Therefore shall she send messengers to the inheritance of Geth:
the houses of lying to deceive the kings of Israel.
Therefore shall she send, etc. . .Lachis shall send to Geth for help:
but in vain:  for Geth, instead of helping, shall be found to be a house
of lying and deceit to Israel.
1:15. Yet will I bring an heir to thee that dwellest in Maresa:  even to
Odollam shall the glory of Israel come.
An heir, etc. . .Maresa (which was the name of a city of Juda) signifies
inheritance:  but here God by his prophet tells the Jews, that he will
bring them an heir to take possession of their inheritance:  and that
the glory of Israel shall be obliged to give place, and to retire even
to Odollam, a city in the extremity of their dominions.  And therefore
he exhorts them to penance in the following verse.
1:16. Make thee bald, and be polled for thy delicate children:  enlarge
thy baldness as the eagle:  for they are carried into captivity from
Micheas Chapter 2
The Israelites by their crying injustices provoke God to punish them.
He shall at last restore Jacob.
2:1. Woe to you that devise that which is unprofitable, and work evil
in your beds:  in the morning light they execute it, because their hand
is against God.
2:2. And they have coveted fields, and taken them by violence, and
houses they have forcibly taken away:  and oppressed a man and his
house, a man and his inheritance.
2:3. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  Behold I devise an evil against
this family:  from which you shall not withdraw your necks, and you
shall not walk haughtily, for this is a very evil time.
2:4. In that day a parable shall be taken up upon you, and a song shall
be sung with melody by them that say:  We are laid waste and spoiled:
the portion of my people is changed:  how shall he depart from me,
whereas he is returning that will divide our land?
How shall he depart, etc. . .How do you pretend to say that the Assyrian
is departing; when indeed he is coming to divide our lands amongst his
2:5. Therefore thou shalt have none that shall cast the cord of a lot
in the assembly of the Lord.
Thou shalt have none, etc. . .Thou shalt have no longer any lot or
inheritance in the land of the people of the Lord.
2:6. Speak ye not, saying:  It shall not drop upon these, confusion
shall not take them.
It shall not drop, etc. . .That is, the prophecy shall not come upon
these.  Such were the sentiments of the people that were unwilling to
believe the threats of the prophets.
2:7. The house of Jacob saith:  Is the Spirit of the Lord straitened or
are these his thoughts?  Are not my words good to him that walketh
2:8. But my people, on the contrary, are risen up as an enemy:  you have
taken away the cloak off from the coat:  and them that passed harmless
you have turned to war.
You have taken away, etc. . .You have even stripped people of their
necessary garments:  and have treated such as were innocently passing on
the way, as if they were at war with you.
2:9. You have cast out the women of my people from their houses, in
which they took delight:  you have taken my praise forever from their
You have cast out, etc. . .either by depriving them of their houses:  or,
by your crimes, given occasion to their being carried away captives,
and their children, by that means, never learning to praise the Lord.
2:10. Arise ye, and depart, for there is no rest here for you.  For that
uncleanness of the land, it shall be corrupted with a grievous
2:11. Would God I were not a man that hath the spirit, and that I
rather spoke a lie:  I will let drop to thee of wine, and of
drunkenness:  and it shall be this people upon whom it shall drop.
Would God, etc. . .The prophet could have wished, out of his love to his
people, that he might be deceived in denouncing to them these evils
that were to fall upon them:  but by conforming himself to the will of
God, he declares to them, that he is sent to prophesy, literally to let
drop upon them, the wine of God's indignation, with which they should
be made drunk; that is, stupified and cast down.
2:12. I will assemble and gather together all of thee, O Jacob:  I will
bring together the remnant of Israel, I will put them together as a
flock in the fold, as sheep in the midst of the sheepcotes, they shall
make a tumult by reason of the multitude of men.
2:13. For he shall go up that shall open the way before them:  they
shall divide and pass through the gate, and shall come in by it:  and
their king shall pass before them, and the Lord at the head of them.
Micheas Chapter 3
For the sins of the rich oppressing the poor, of false prophets
flattering for lucre, and of judges perverting justice, Jerusalem and
the temple shall be destroyed.
3:1. And I said:  Hear, O ye princes of Jacob, and ye chiefs of the
house of Israel:  Is it not your part to know judgment,
3:2. You that hate good, and love evil:  that violently pluck off their
skins from them and their flesh from their bones?
3:3. Who have eaten the flesh of my people, and have flayed their skin
off them:  and have broken, and chopped their bones as for the kettle,
and as flesh in the midst of the pot.
3:4. Then shall they cry to the Lord, and he will not hear them:  and he
will hide his face from them at that time, as they have behaved
wickedly in their devices.
3:5. Thus saith the Lord concerning the prophets that make my people
err:  that bite with their teeth, and preach peace:  and if a man give
not something into their mouth, they prepare war against him.
3:6. Therefore night shall be to you instead of vision, and darkness to
you instead of divination:  and the sun shall go down upon the prophets,
and the day shall be darkened over them.
3:7. And they shall be confounded that see visions, and the diviners
shall be confounded:  and they shall all cover their faces, because
there is no answer of God.
3:8. But yet I am filled with the strength of the spirit of the Lord,
with judgment and power:  to declare unto Jacob his wickedness and to
Israel his sin.
3:9. Hear this, ye princes of the house of Jacob, and ye judges of the
house of Israel:  you that abhor judgment and pervert all that is right.
3:10. You that build up Sion with blood, and Jerusalem with iniquity.
3:11. Her princes have judged for bribes:  and her priests have taught
for hire, and her prophets divined for money:  and they leaned upon the
Lord, saying:  Is not the Lord in the midst of us?  no evil shall come
3:12. Therefore because of you, Sion shall be ploughed as a field, and
Jerusalem shall be as a heap of stones, and the mountain of the temple
as the high places of the forests.
Micheas Chapter 4
The glory of the church of Christ, by the conversion of the Gentiles.
The Jews shall be carried captives to Babylon, and be delivered again.
4:1. And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of
the house of the Lord shall be prepared in the top of the mountains,
and high above the hills:  and people shall flow to it.
4:2. And many nations shall come in haste, and say:  Come, let us go up
to the mountain of the Lord, and to the house of the God of Jacob:  and
he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths:  for the
law shall go forth out of Sion, and the word of the Lord out of
4:3. And he shall judge among many people, and rebuke strong nations
afar off:  and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their
spears into spades:  nation shall not take sword against nation:  neither
shall they learn war anymore.
Neither shall they learn, etc. . .The law of Christ is a law of peace;
and all his true subjects, as much as lies in them love and keep peace
with all the world.
4:4. And every man shall sit under his vine, and under his fig tree,
and there shall be none to make them afraid, for the mouth of the Lord
of hosts hath spoken.
4:5. For all people will walk every one in the name of his god:  but we
will walk in the name of the Lord, our God, for ever and ever.
4:6. In that day, saith the Lord, I will gather up her that halteth:
and her that I had cast out, I will gather up:  and her whom I had
4:7. And I will make her that halted, a remnant:  and her that had been
afflicted, a mighty nation:  and the Lord will reign over them in Mount
Sion, from this time now and forever.
4:8. And thou, O cloudy tower of the flock, of the daughter of Sion,
unto thee shall it come:  yea the first power shall come, the kingdom to
the daughter of Jerusalem.
4:9. Now, why art thou drawn together with grief?  Hast thou no king in
thee, or is thy counselor perished, because sorrow hath taken thee as a
woman in labour.
4:10. Be in pain and labour, O daughter of Sion, as a woman that
bringeth forth:  for now shalt thou go out of the city, and shalt dwell
in the country, and shalt come even to Babylon, there thou shalt be
delivered:  there the Lord will redeem thee out of the hand of thy
4:11. And now many nations are gathered together against thee, and they
say:  Let her be stoned:  and let our eye look upon Sion.
4:12. But they have not known the thoughts of the Lord, and have not
understood his counsel:  because he hath gathered them together as the
hay of the floor.
4:13. Arise, and tread, O daughter of Sion:  for I will make thy horn
iron, and thy hoofs I will make brass:  and thou shalt beat in pieces
many peoples, and shalt immolate the spoils of them to the Lord, and
their strength to the Lord of the whole earth.
Micheas Chapter 5
The birth of Christ in Bethlehem:  his reign and spiritual conquests.
5:1. Now shalt thou be laid waste, O daughter of the robber:  they have
laid siege against us, with a rod shall they strike the cheek of the
judge of Israel.
Daughter of the robber. . .Some understand this of Babylon; which robbed
and pillaged the temple of God:  others understand it of Jerusalem; by
reason of the many rapines and oppressions committed there.
5:2. And thou Bethlehem Ephrata, art a little one among the thousands
of Juda, out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be the
ruler in Israel:  and his going forth is from the beginning, from the
days of eternity.
His going forth, etc. . .That is, he who as man shall be born in thee,
as God was born of his Father from all eternity.
5:3. Therefore will he give them up even till the time wherein she that
travaileth shall bring forth:  and the remnant of his brethren shall be
converted to the children of Israel.
5:4. And he shall stand, and feed in the strength of the Lord, in the
height of the name of the Lord, his God:  and they shall be converted,
for now shall he be magnified even to the ends of the earth.
5:5. And this man shall be our peace, when the Assyrian shall come into
our land, and when he shall set his foot in our houses:  and we shall
raise against him seven shepherds, and eight principal men.
The Assyrian. . .That is, the persecutors of the church:  who are here
called Assyrians by the prophet:  because the Assyrians were at that
time the chief enemies and persecutors of the people of God.--Ibid.
Seven shepherds, etc. . .Viz., the pastors of God's church, and the
defenders of the faith.  The number seven in scripture is taken to
signify many:  and when eight is joined with it, we are to understand
that the number will be very great.
5:6. And they shall feed the land of Assyria with the sword, and the
land of Nemrod with the spears thereof:  and he shall deliver us from
the Assyrian when he shall come into our land, and when he shall tread
in our borders.
They shall feed, etc. . .They shall make spiritual conquests in the
lands of their persecutors, with the word of the spirit, which is the
word of God.  Eph. 6.17.
5:7. And the remnant of Jacob shall be in the midst of many peoples, as
a dew from the Lord, and as drops upon the grass, which waiteth not for
man, nor tarrieth for the children of men.
The remnant of Jacob. . .Viz., the apostles, and the first preachers of
the Jewish nation; whose doctrine, like dew, shall make the plants of
the converted Gentiles grow up, without waiting for any man to
cultivate them by human learning.
5:8. And the remnant of Jacob shall be among the Gentiles, in the midst
of many peoples, as a lion among the beasts of the forests, and as a
young lion among the flocks of sheep:  who, when he shall go through,
and tread down, and take there is none to deliver.
As a lion, etc. . .This denotes the fortitude of these first preachers;
and their success in their spiritual enterprises.
5:9. Thy hand shall be lifted up over thy enemies, and all thy enemies
shall be cut off.
5:10. And it shall come to pass in that day, saith the Lord, that I
will take away thy horses out of the midst of thee, and will destroy
thy chariots.
I will take away thy horses, etc. . .Some understand this, and all that
follows to the end of the chapter, as addressed to the enemies of the
church.  But it may as well be understood of the converts to the church:
who should no longer put their trust in any of these things.
5:11. And I will destroy the cities of thy land, and will throw down
all thy strong holds, and I will take away sorceries out of thy hand,
and there shall be no divinations in thee.
5:12. And I will destroy thy graven things, and thy statues, out of the
midst of thee:  and thou shalt no more adore the works of thy hands.
5:13. And I will pluck up thy groves out of the midst of thee:  and will
crush thy cities.
5:14. And I will execute vengeance in wrath, and in indignation, among
all the nations that have not given ear.
Micheas Chapter 6
God expostulates with the Jews for their ingratitude and sins:  for
which they shall be punished.
6:1. Hear ye what the Lord saith:  Arise, contend thou in judgment
against the mountains, and let the hills hear thy voice.
The mountains, etc. . .That is, the great ones, the princes of the
6:2. Let the mountains hear the judgment of the Lord, and the strong
foundations of the earth:  for the Lord will enter into judgment with
his people, and he will plead against Israel.
6:3. O my people, what have I done to thee, or in what have I molested
thee?  answer thou me.
6:4. For I brought thee up out of the land of Egypt, and delivered thee
out of the house of slaves:  and I sent before thy face Moses, and
Aaron, and Mary.
6:5. O my people, remember, I pray thee, what Balach, the king of Moab,
purposed:  and what Balaam, the son of Beor, answered him, from Setim to
Galgal, that thou mightest know the justice of the Lord.
From Setim to Galgal. . .He puts them in mind of the favour he did them,
in not suffering them to be quite destroyed by the evil purpose of
Balach, and the wicked counsel of Balaam:  and then gives them a hint of
the wonders he wrought, in order to bring them into the land of
Promise, by stopping the course of the Jordan, in their march from
Setim to Galgal.
6:6. What shall I offer to the Lord that is worthy?  wherewith shall I
kneel before the high God?  shall I offer holocausts unto him, and
calves of a year old?
What shall I offer, etc. . .This is spoken in the person of the people,
desiring to be informed what they are to do to please God.
6:7. May the Lord be appeased with thousands of rams, or with many
thousands of fat he goats?  shall I give my firstborn for my wickedness,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
6:8. I will shew thee, O man, what is good, and what the Lord requireth
of thee:  Verily to do judgment, and to love mercy, and to walk
solicitous with thy God.
6:9. The voice of the Lord crieth to the city, and salvation shall be
to them that fear thy name:  hear O ye tribes, and who shall approve it?
6:10. As yet there is a fire in the house of the wicked, the treasures
of iniquity, and a scant measure full of wrath.
Full of wrath, etc. . .That is, highly provoking in the sight of God.
6:11. Shall I justify wicked balances, and the deceitful weights of the
6:12. By which her rich men were filled with iniquity, and the
inhabitants thereof have spoken lies, and their tongue was deceitful in
their mouth.
6:13. And I therefore began to strike thee with desolation for thy
6:14. Thou shalt eat, but shalt not be filled:  and thy humiliation
shall be in the midst of thee:  and thou shalt take hold, but shalt not
save:  and those whom thou shalt save, I will give up to the sword.
6:15. Thou shalt sow, but shalt not reap:  thou shalt tread the olives,
but shalt not be anointed with oil:  and the new wine, but shalt not
drink the wine.
6:16. For thou hast kept the statutes of Amri, and all the works of the
house of Achab:  and thou hast walked according their wills, that I
should make thee a desolation, and the inhabitants thereof a hissing,
and you shall bear the reproach of my people.
The statutes of Amri, etc. . .The wicked ways of Amri and Achab,
idolatrous kings.
Micheas Chapter 7
The prophet laments, that notwithstanding all his preaching, the
generality are still corrupt in their manners:  therefore their
desolation is at hand:  but they shall be restored again and prosper;
and all mankind shall be redeemed by Christ.
7:1. Woe is me, for I am become as one that gleaneth in autumn the
grapes of the vintage:  there is no cluster to eat, my soul desired the
first ripe figs.
7:2. The holy man is perished out of the earth, and there is none
upright among men:  they all lie in wait for blood, every one hunteth
his brother to death.
7:3. The evil of their hands they call good:  the prince requireth, and
the judge is for giving:  and the great man hath uttered the desire of
his soul, and they have troubled it.
7:4. He that is best among them, is as a brier, and he that is
righteous, as the thorn of the hedge.  The day of thy inspection, thy
visitation cometh:  now shall be their destruction.
7:5. Believe not a friend, and trust not in a prince:  keep the doors of
thy mouth from her that sleepeth in thy bosom.
7:6. For the son dishonoureth the father, and the daughter riseth up
against her mother, the daughter in law against her mother in law:  and
a man's enemies are they of his own household.
7:7. But I will look towards the Lord, I will wait for God, my saviour:
my God will hear me.
7:8. Rejoice not, thou my enemy, over me, because I am fallen:  I shall
arise, when I sit in darkness, the Lord is my light.
7:9. I will bear the wrath of the Lord, because I have sinned against
him:  until he judge my cause, and execute judgement for me:  he will
bring me forth into the light, I shall behold his justice.
7:10. And my enemy shall behold, and she shall be covered with shame,
who saith to me:  Where is the Lord thy God?  my eyes shall look down
upon her:  now shall she be trodden under foot as the mire of the
She shall be covered, etc. . .Viz., Babylon my enemy.
7:11. The day shall come, that thy walls may be built up:  in that day
shall the law be far removed.
The law. . .Viz., of thy enemies, who have tyrannized over thee.
7:12. In that day they shall come even from Assyria to thee, and to the
fortified cities:  and from the fortified cities even to the river, and
from sea to sea, and from mountain to mountain.
7:13. And the land shall be made desolate because of the inhabitants
thereof, and for the fruit of their devices.
The land, etc. . .Viz., of Babylon.
7:14. Feed thy people with thy rod, the flock of thy inheritance, them
that dwell alone in the forest, in the midst of Carmel:  they shall feed
in Basan and Galaad, according to the days of old.
7:15. According to the days of thy coming out of the land of Egypt, I
will shew him wonders.
7:16. The nations shall see, and shall be confounded at all their
strength:  they shall put the hand upon the mouth, their ears shall be
7:17. They shall lick the dust like serpents, as the creeping things of
the earth, they shall be disturbed in their houses:  they shall dread
the Lord, our God, and shall fear thee.
7:18. Who is a God like to thee, who takest away iniquity, and passest
by the sin of the remnant of thy inheritance?  he will send his fury in
no more, because he delighteth in mercy.
7:19. He will turn again, and have mercy on us:  he will put away our
iniquities:  and he will cast all our sins into the bottom of the sea.
7:20. Thou wilt perform the truth to Jacob, the mercy to Abraham:  which
thou hast sworn to our fathers from the days of old.
THE PROPHECY OF NAHUM
NAHUM, whose name signifies A COMFORTER, was a native of Elcese, or
Elcesai, supposed to be a little town in Galilee.  He prophesied, after
the ten tribes were carried into captivity, and foretold the utter
destruction of Ninive, by the Babylonians and Medes:  which happened in
the reign of JOSIAS.
Nahum Chapter 1
The majesty of God, his goodness to his people, and severity to his
1:1. The burden of Ninive.  The book of the vision of Nahum, the
1:2. The Lord is a jealous God, and a revenger:  the Lord is a revenger,
and hath wrath:  the Lord taketh vengeance on his adversaries, and he is
angry with his enemies.
1:3. The Lord is patient, and great in power, and will not cleanse and
acquit the guilty.  The Lord's ways are in a tempest, and a whirlwind,
and clouds are the dust of his feet.
1:4. He rebuketh the sea and drieth it up:  and bringeth all the rivers
to be a desert.  Basan languisheth and Carmel:  and the flower of Libanus
fadeth away.
1:5. The mountains tremble at him, and the hills are made desolate:  and
the earth hath quaked at his presence, and the world, and all that
dwell therein.
1:6. Who can stand before the face of his indignation?  and who shall
resist in the fierceness of his anger?  his indignation is poured out
like fire:  and the rocks are melted by him.
1:7. The Lord is good, and giveth strength in the day of trouble:  and
knoweth them that hope in him.
1:8. But with a flood that passeth by, he will make an utter end of the
place thereof:  and darkness shall pursue his enemies.
Of the place thereof. . .Viz., of Ninive.
1:9. What do ye devise against the Lord?  he will make an utter end:
there shall not rise a double affliction.
1:10. For as thorns embrace one another:  so while they are feasting and
drinking together, they shall be consumed as stubble that is fully dry.
1:11. Out of thee shall come forth one that imagineth evil against the
Lord, contriving treachery in his mind.
Shall come forth one, etc. . .Some understand this of Sennacherib.  But
as his attempt against the people seems to have been prior to the
prophecy of Nahum, we may better understand it of Holofernes.
1:12. Thus saith the Lord:  Though they were perfect:  and many of them
so, yet thus shall they be cut off, and he shall pass:  I have afflicted
thee, and I will afflict thee no more.
Though they were perfect, etc. . .That is, however strong or numerous
their forces may be, they shall be cut off; and their prince or leader
shall pass away and disappear.
1:13. And now I will break in pieces his rod with which he struck thy
back, and I will burst thy bonds asunder.
1:14. And the Lord will give a commandment concerning thee, that no
more of thy name shall be sown:  I will destroy the graven and molten
thing out of the house of thy God, I will make it thy grave, for thou
art disgraced.
Will give a commandment. . .That is, a decree, concerning thee, O king
of Ninive, thy seed shall fail, etc.
1:15. Behold upon the mountains the feet of him that bringeth good
tidings, and that preacheth peace:  O Juda, keep thy festivals, and pay
thy vows:  for Belial shall no more pass through thee again, he is
utterly cut off.
Belial. . .The wicked one, viz., the Assyrian.
Nahum Chapter 2
God sends his armies against Ninive to destroy it.
2:1. He is come up that shall destroy before thy face, that shall keep
the siege:  watch the way, fortify thy loins, strengthen thy power
exceedingly.
2:2. For the Lord hath rendered the pride of Jacob, as the pride of
Israel:  because the spoilers have laid them waste, and have marred
their vine branches.
Hath rendered the pride of Jacob, etc. . .He hath punished Jacob for his
pride; and therefore Ninive must not expect to escape.  Or else,
rendering the pride of Jacob means rewarding, that is, punishing Ninive
for the pride they exercised against Jacob.
2:3. The shield of his mighty men is like fire, the men of the army are
clad in scarlet, the reins of the chariot are flaming in the day of his
preparation, and the drivers are stupefied.
Of his mighty men, etc. . .He speaks of the Chaldeans and Medes sent to
destroy Ninive.--Ibid.  Stupefied. . .consopiti.  That is, they drive on
furiously like men intoxicated with wine.
2:4. They are in confusion in the ways, the chariots jostle one against
another in the streets:  their looks are like torches, like lightning
running to and fro.
2:5. He will muster up his valiant men, they shall stumble in their
march:  they shall quickly get upon the walls thereof:  and a covering
shall be prepared.
Stumble in their march. . .By running hastily on.
2:6. The gates of the rivers are opened, and the temple is thrown down
to the ground.
2:7. And the soldier is led away captive:  and her bondwomen were led
away mourning as doves, murmuring in their hearts.
2:8. And as for Ninive, her waters are like a great pool:  but the men
flee away.  They cry:  Stand, stand, but there is none that will return
2:9. Take ye the spoil of the silver, take the spoil of the gold:  for
there is no end of the riches of all the precious furniture.
2:10. She is destroyed, and rent, and torn:  the heart melteth, and the
knees fail, and all the loins lose their strength:  and the faces of
them all are as the blackness of a kettle.
2:11. Where is now the dwelling of the lions, and the feeding place of
the young lions, to which the lion went, to enter in thither, the young
lion, and there was none to make them afraid?
2:12. The lion caught enough for his whelps, and killed for his
lionesses:  and he filled his holes with prey, and his den with rapine.
2:13. Behold I come against thee, saith the Lord of hosts, and I will
burn thy chariots even to smoke, and the sword shall devour thy young
lions:  and I will cut off thy prey out of the land, and the voice of
thy messengers shall be heard no more.
Nahum Chapter 3
The miserable destruction of Ninive.
3:1. Woe to thee, O city of blood, all full of lies and violence:
rapine shall not depart from thee.
3:2. The noise of the whip, and the noise of the rattling of the
wheels, and of the neighing horse; and of the running chariot, and of
the horsemen coming up,
3:3. And of the shining sword, and of the glittering spear, and of a
multitude slain, and of a grievous destruction:  and there is no end of
carcasses, and they shall fall down on their dead bodies.
3:4. Because of the multitude of the fornications of the harlot that
was beautiful and agreeable, and that made use of witchcraft, that sold
nations through her fornications, and families through her witchcrafts.
3:5. Behold I come against thee, saith the Lord of hosts:  and I will
discover thy shame to thy face, and will shew thy nakedness to the
nations, and thy shame to kingdoms.
3:6. And I will cast abominations upon thee, and will disgrace thee,
and will make an example of thee.
3:7. And it shall come to pass that every one that shall see thee,
shall flee from thee, and shall say:  Ninive is laid waste:  who shall
bemoan thee?  whence shall I seek a comforter for thee?
3:8. Art thou better than the populous Alexandria, that dwelleth among
the rivers?  waters are round about it:  the sea is its riches:  the
waters are its walls.
Populous Alexandria. . .No-Ammon.  A populous city of Egypt destroyed by
the Chaldeans, and afterwards rebuilt by Alexander, and called
Alexandria.  Others suppose No-Ammon to be the same as Diospolis.
3:9. Ethiopia and Egypt were the strength thereof, and there is no end:
Africa and the Libyans were thy helpers.
3:10. Yet she also was removed and carried into captivity:  her young
children were dashed in pieces at the top of every street, and they
cast lots upon her nobles, and all her great men were bound in fetters.
3:11. Therefore thou also shalt be made drunk, and shalt be despised:
and thou shalt seek help from the enemies.
3:12. All thy strong holds shall be like fig trees with their green
figs:  if they be shaken, they shall fall into the mouth of the eater.
3:13. Behold thy people in the midst of thee are women:  the gates of
thy land shall be set wide open to thy enemies, the fire shall devour
3:14. Draw thee water for the siege, build up thy bulwarks:  go into the
clay, and tread, work it and make brick.
3:15. There shall the fire devour thee:  thou shalt perish by the sword,
it shall devour thee like the bruchus:  assemble together like the
bruchus, make thyself many like the locust.
3:16. Thou hast multiplied thy merchandises above the stars of heaven:
the bruchus hath spread himself and flown away.
3:17. Thy guards are like the locusts:  and thy little ones like the
locusts of locusts which swarm on the hedges in the day of cold:  the
sun arose, and they flew away, and their place was not known where they
Locusts of locusts. . .The young locusts.
3:18. Thy shepherds have slumbered, O king of Assyria, thy princes
shall be buried:  thy people are hid in the mountains, and there is none
to gather them.
3:19. Thy destruction is not hidden, thy wound is grievous:  all that
have heard the fame of thee, have clapped their hands over thee:  for
upon whom hath not thy wickedness passed continually?
THE PROPHECY OF HABACUC
HABACUC was a native of Bezocher, and prophesied in JUDA, some time
before the invasion of the CHALDEANS, which he foretold.  He lived to
see this prophecy fulfilled, and for many years after, according to the
general opinion, which supposes him to be the same that was brought by
the ANGEL to DANIEL in BABYLON, Dan. 14.
Habacuc Chapter 1
The prophet complains of the wickedness of the people:  God reveals to
him the vengeance he is going to take of them by the Chaldeans.
1:1. The burden that Habacuc the prophet saw.
Burden. . .Such prophecies more especially are called burdens, as
threaten grievous evils and punishments.
1:2. How long, O Lord, shall I cry, and thou wilt not hear?  shall I cry
out to thee suffering violence, and thou wilt not save?
1:3. Why hast thou shewn me iniquity and grievance, to see rapine and
injustice before me?  and there is a judgment, but opposition is more
1:4. Therefore the law is torn in pieces, and judgment cometh not to
the end:  because the wicked prevaileth against the just, therefore
wrong judgment goeth forth.
1:5. Behold ye among the nations, and see:  wonder, and be astonished:
for a work is done in your days, which no man will believe when it
shall be told.
1:6. For behold, I will raise up the Chaldeans, a bitter and swift
nation, marching upon the breadth of the earth, to possess the dwelling
places that are not their own.
1:7. They are dreadful, and terrible:  from themselves shall their
judgment, and their burden proceed.
1:8. Their horses are lighter than leopards, and swifter than evening
wolves; and their horsemen shall be spread abroad:  for their horsemen
shall come from afar, they shall fly as an eagle that maketh haste to
1:9. They shall all come to the prey, their face is like a burning
wind:  and they shall gather together captives as the sand.
1:10. And their prince shall triumph over kings, and princes shall be
his laughingstock:  and he shall laugh at every strong hold, and shall
cast up a mount, and shall take it.
1:11. Then shall his spirit be changed, and he shall pass, and fall:
this is his strength of his god.
Then shall his spirit, etc. . .Viz., the spirit of the king of Babylon.
It alludes to the judgment of God upon Nabuchodonosor, recorded Dan.
4., and to the speedy fall of the Chaldean empire.
1:12. Wast thou not from the beginning, O Lord my God, my holy one, and
we shall not die?  Lord, thou hast appointed him for judgment:  and made
him strong for correction.
1:13. Thy eyes are too pure to behold evil, and thou canst not look on
iniquity.  Why lookest thou upon them that do unjust things, and holdest
thy peace when the wicked devoureth the man that is more just than
1:14. And thou wilt make men as the fishes of the sea, and as the
creeping things that have no ruler.
1:15. He lifted up all them with his hook, he drew them in his drag,
and gathered them into his net:  for this he will be glad and rejoice.
1:16. Therefore will he offer victims to his drag, and he will
sacrifice to his net:  because through them his portion is made fat, and
his meat dainty.
1:17. For this cause therefore he spreadeth his net, and will not spare
continually to slay the nations.
Habacuc Chapter 2
The prophet is admonished to wait with faith.  The enemies of God's
people shall assuredly be punished.
2:1. I will stand upon my watch, and fix my foot upon the tower:  and I
will watch, to see what will be said to me, and what I may answer to
him that reproveth me.
Will stand, etc. . .Waiting to see what the Lord will answer to my
complaint, viz., that the Chaldeans, who are worse than the Jews, and
who attribute all their success to their own strength, or to their
idols, should nevertheless prevail over the people of the Lord.  The
Lord's answer is, that the prophet must wait with patience and faith:
that all should be set right in due time; and the enemies of God and
his people punished according to their deserts.
2:2. And the Lord answered me, and said:  Write the vision, and make it
plain upon tables:  that he that readeth it may run over it.
2:3. For as yet the vision is far off, and it shall appear at the end,
and shall not lie:  if it make any delay, wait for it:  for it shall
surely come, and it shall not be slack.
2:4. Behold, he that is unbelieving, his soul shall not be right in
himself:  but the just shall live in his faith.
2:5. And as wine deceiveth him that drinketh it:  so shall the proud man
be, and he shall not be honoured:  who hath enlarged his desire like
hell:  and is himself like death, and he is never satisfied:  but will
gather together unto him all nations, and heap together unto him all
As wine deceiveth, etc. . .Viz., by affording only a short passing
pleasure; followed by the evils and disgrace that are the usual
consequences of drunkenness; so shall it be with the proud enemies of
the people of God; whose success affordeth them only a momentary
pleasure, followed by innumerable and everlasting evils.
2:6. Shall not all these take up a parable against him, and a dark
speech concerning him:  and it shall be said:  Woe to him that heapeth
together that which is not his own?  how long also doth he load himself
with thick clay?
Thick clay. . .Ill-gotten goods, that, like mire, both burden and defile
2:7. Shall they not rise up suddenly that shall bite thee:  and they be
stirred up that shall tear thee, and thou shalt be a spoil to them?
2:8. Because thou hast spoiled many nations, all that shall be left of
the people shall spoil thee:  because of men's blood, and for the
iniquity of the land, of the city, and of all that dwell therein.
2:9. Woe to him that gathereth together an evil covetousness to his
house, that his nest may be on high, and thinketh he may be delivered
out of the hand of evil.
2:10. Thou hast devised confusion to thy house, thou hast cut off many
people, and thy soul hath sinned.
2:11. For the stone shall cry out of the wall:  and the timber that is
between the joints of the building, shall answer.
2:12. Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood, and prepareth a city
by iniquity.
2:13. Are not these things from the Lord of hosts?  for the people shall
labour in a great fire:  and the nations in vain, and they shall faint.
Are not these things, etc. . .That is, shall not these punishments that
are here recorded, come from the Lord upon him that is guilty of such
crimes.--Ibid.  The people shall labour, etc. . .Viz., the enemies of
God's people.
2:14. For the earth shall be filled, that men may know the glory of the
Lord, as waters covering the sea.
2:15. Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend, and presenteth his
gall, and maketh him drunk, that he may behold his nakedness.
2:16. Thou art filled with shame instead of glory:  drink thou also, and
fall fast asleep:  the cup of the right hand of the Lord shall compass
thee, and shameful vomiting shall be on thy glory.
2:17. For the iniquity of Libanus shall cover thee, and the ravaging of
beasts shall terrify them because of the blood of men, and the iniquity
of the land, and of the city, and of all that dwell therein.
The iniquity of Libanus. . .That is, the iniquity committed by the
Chaldeans against the temple of God, signified here by the name of
2:18. What doth the graven thing avail, because the maker thereof hath
graven it, a molten, and a false image?  because the forger thereof hath
trusted in a thing of his own forging, to make dumb idols.
2:19. Woe to him that saith to wood:  Awake:  to the dumb stone:  Arise:
can it teach?  Behold, it is laid over with gold, and silver, and there
is no spirit in the bowels thereof.
2:20. But the Lord is in his holy temple:  let all the earth keep
silence before him.
Habacuc Chapter 3
3:1. A PRAYER OF HABACUC THE PROPHET FOR IGNORANCES.
For ignorances. . .That is, for the sins of his people.  In the Hebrew,
it is Sigionoth:  which some take to signify a musical instrument, or
tune; with which this sublime prayer and canticle was to be sung.
3:2. O Lord, I have heard thy hearing, and was afraid.  O Lord, thy
work, in the midst of the years bring it to life:  In the midst of the
years thou shalt make it known:  when thou art angry, thou wilt remember
Thy hearing, etc. . .That is, thy oracles, the great and wonderful
things thou hast revealed to me; and I was struck with a reverential
fear and awe.--Ibid.  Thy work. . .The great work of the redemption of
man, which thou wilt bring to life and light in the midst of the years,
when our calamities and miseries shall be at their height.
3:3. God will come from the south, and the holy one from mount Pharan:
His glory covered the heavens, and the earth is full of his praise.
God will come from the south, etc. . .God himself will come to give us
his law, and to conduct us into the true land of promise:  as heretofore
he came from the South (in the Hebrew Theman) and from mount Pharan to
give his law to his people in the desert.  See Deut. 33.2.
3:4. His brightness shall be as the light:  horns are in his hands:
There is his strength hid:
Horns, etc. . .That is, strength and power, which, by a Hebrew phrase,
are called horns.  Or beams of light, which come forth from his hands.
Or it may allude to the cross, in the horns of which the hands of
Christ were fastened, where his strength was hidden, by which he
overcame the world, and drove out death and the devil.
3:5. Death shall go before his face.  And the devil shall go forth
before his feet.
Death shall go before his face, etc. . .Both death and the devil shall
be the executioners of his justice against his enemies:  as they were
heretofore against the Egyptians and Chanaanites.
3:6. He stood and measured the earth.  He beheld, and melted the
nations:  and the ancient mountains were crushed to pieces.  The hills of
the world were bowed down by the journeys of his eternity.
He beheld, etc. . .One look of his eye is enough to melt all the
nations, and to reduce them to nothing.  For all heaven and earth
disappear when they come before his light.  Apoc. 20.11.  Ibid.  The
ancient mountains, etc. . .By the mountains and hills are signified the
great ones of the world, that persecute the church, whose power was
quickly crushed by the Almighty.
3:7. I saw the tents of Ethiopia for their iniquity, the curtains of
the land of Madian shall be troubled.
Ethiopia. . .the land of the Blacks, and Madian, are here taken for the
enemies of God and his people:  who shall perish for their iniquity.
3:8. Wast thou angry, O Lord, with the rivers?  or was thy wrath upon
the rivers?  or thy indignation in the sea?  Who will ride upon thy
horses:  and thy chariots are salvation.
With the rivers, etc. . .He alludes to the wonders wrought heretofore by
the Lord in favour of his people Israel, when the waters of the rivers,
viz., of Arnon and Jordan, and of the Red Sea, retired before their
face:  when he came as it were with his horses and chariots to save them
when he took up his bow for their defence, in consequence of the oath
he had made to their tribes:  when the mountains trembled, and the deep
stood with its waves raised up in a heap, as with hands lifted up to
heaven:  when the sun and the moon stood still at his command, etc., to
comply with his anger, not against the rivers and sea, but against the
enemies of his people.  How much more will he do in favour of his Son:
and against the enemies of his church?
3:9. Thou wilt surely take up thy bow:  according to the oaths which
thou hast spoken to the tribes.  Thou wilt divide the rivers of the
3:10. The mountains saw thee, and were grieved:  the great body of
waters passed away.  The deep put forth its voice:  the deep lifted up
3:11. The sun and the moon stood still in their habitation, in the
light of thy arrows, they shall go in the brightness of thy glittering
3:12. In thy anger thou wilt tread the earth under foot:  in thy wrath
thou wilt astonish the nations.
3:13. Thou wentest forth for the salvation of thy people:  for salvation
with thy Christ.  Thou struckest the head of the house of the wicked:
thou hast laid bare his foundation even to the neck.
The head of the house of the wicked. . .Such was Pharao heretofore:  such
shall Antichrist be hereafter.
3:14. Thou hast cursed his sceptres, the head of his warriors, them
that came out as a whirlwind to scatter me.  Their joy was like that of
him that devoureth the poor man in secret.
3:15. Thou madest a way in the sea for thy horses, in the mud of many
Thou madest a way in the sea, etc. . .To deliver thy people from the
Egyptian bondage:  and thou shalt work the like wonders in the spiritual
way, to rescue the children of the church from their enemies.
3:16. I have heard and my bowels were troubled:  my lips trembled at the
voice.  Let rottenness enter into my bones, and swarm under me.  That I
may rest in the day of tribulation:  that I may go up to our people that
I have heard, etc. . .Viz., the evils that are now coming upon the
Israelites for their sins; and that shall come hereafter upon all
impenitent sinners; and the foresight that I have of these miseries
makes me willing to die, that I may be at rest, before this general
tribulation comes, in which all good things shall be withdrawn from the
wicked.--Ibid.  That I may go up to our people, etc. . .That I may join
the happy company in the bosom of Abraham, that are girded, that is,
prepared for their journey, by which they shall attend their Lord, when
he shall ascend into heaven.  To which high and happy place, my Jesus,
that is, my Saviour, the great conqueror of death and hell, shall one
day conduct me rejoicing and singing psalms of praise, ver. 18 and 19.
3:17. For the fig tree shall not blossom:  and there shall be no spring
in the vines.  The labour of the olive tree shall fail:  and the fields
shall yield no food:  the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and
there shall be no herd in the stalls.
3:18. But I will rejoice in the Lord:  and I will joy in God my Jesus.
3:19. The Lord God is my strength:  and he will make my feet like the
feet of harts:  and he the conqueror will lead me upon my high places
singing psalms.
THE PROPHECY OF SOPHONIAS
SOPHONIAS, whose name, saith St. Jerome, signifies The Watchman of the
Lord, or The hidden of the Lord, prophesied in the beginning of the
reign of Josias.  He was a native of Sarabatha, and of the tribe of
Simeon, according to the more general opinion.  He prophesied the
punishments of the Jews, for their idolatry and other crimes; also the
punishments that were to come on divers nations; the coming of Christ,
the conversion of the Gentiles, the blindness of the Jews, and their
conversion towards the end of the world.
Sophonias Chapter 1
For divers enormous sins, the kingdom of Juda is threatened with severe
1:1. The word of the Lord that came to Sophonias the son of Chusi, the
son of Godolias, the son of Amarias, the son of Ezechias, in the days
of Josias, the son of Amon king of Juda.
1:2. Gathering, I will gather together all things from off the face of
the land, saith the Lord:
Gathering, I will gather, etc. . .That is, I will assuredly take away,
and wholly consume, either by captivity, or death, both men and beasts
out of this land.
1:3. I will gather man, and beast, I will gather the birds of the air,
and the fishes of the sea:  and the ungodly shall meet with ruin:  and I
will destroy men from off the face of the land, saith the Lord.
1:4. And I will stretch out my hand upon Juda, and upon all the
inhabitants of Jerusalem:  and I will destroy out of this place the
remnant of Baal, and the names of the wardens of the temples with the
The wardens, etc. . .Viz., of the temples of the idols.  AEdituos, in
Hebrew, the Chemarims, that is, such as kindle the fires, or burn
1:5. And them that worship the host of heaven upon the tops of houses,
and them that adore, and swear by the Lord, and swear by Melchom.
Melchom. . .The idol of the Ammonites.
1:6. And them that turn away from following after the Lord, and that
have not sought the Lord, nor searched after him.
1:7. Be silent before the face of the Lord God:  for the day of the Lord
is near, for the Lord hath prepared a victim, he hath sanctified his
1:8. And it shall come to pass in the day of the victim of the Lord,
that I will visit upon the princes, and upon the king's sons, and upon
all such as are clothed with strange apparel:
1:9. And I will visit in that day upon every one that entereth
arrogantly over the threshold:  them that fill the house of the Lord
their God with iniquity and deceit.
1:10. And there shall be in that day, saith the Lord, the noise of a
cry from the fish gate, and a howling from the Second, and a great
destruction from the hills.
The Second. . .A part of the city so called.
1:11. Howl, ye inhabitants of the Morter.  All the people of Chanaan is
hush, all are cut off that were wrapped up in silver.
The Morter. . .Maktesh.  A valley in or near Jerusalem.  Ibid.  The
people of Chanaan. . .So he calls the Jews, from their following the
wicked ways of the Chanaanites.
1:12. And it shall come to pass at that time, that I will search
Jerusalem with lamps, and will visit upon the men that are settled on
their lees:  that say in their hearts:  The Lord will not do good, nor
will he do evil.
Settled on their lees. . .That is, the wealthy, and such as live at
their ease, resting upon their riches, like wine upon the lees.
1:13. And their strength shall become a booty, and their houses as a
desert:  and they shall build houses, and shall not dwell in them:  and
they shall plant vineyards, and shall not drink the wine of them.
1:14. The great day of the Lord is near, it is near and exceeding
swift:  the voice of the day of the Lord is bitter, the mighty man shall
there meet with tribulation.
1:15. That day is a day of wrath, a day of tribulation and distress, a
day of calamity and misery, a day of darkness and obscurity, a day of
clouds and whirlwinds,
1:16. A day of the trumpet and alarm against the fenced cities, and
against the high bulwarks.
1:17. And I will distress men, and they shall walk like blind men,
because they have sinned against the Lord:  and their blood shall be
poured out as earth, and their bodies as dung.
1:18. Neither shall their silver and their gold be able to deliver them
in the day of the wrath of the Lord:  all the land shall be devoured by
the fire of his jealousy:  for he shall make even a speedy destruction
of all them that dwell in the land.
Sophonias Chapter 2
An exhortation to repentance.  The judgment of the Philistines, of the
Moabites, and the Ammonites; of the Ethiopians and the Assyrians.
2:1.Assemble yourselves together, be gathered together, O nation not
worthy to be loved:
2:2. Before the decree bring forth the day as dust passing away, before
the fierce anger of the Lord come upon you, before the day of the
Lord's indignation come upon you.
2:3. Seek the Lord, all ye meek of the earth, you that have wrought his
judgment:  seek the just, seek the meek:  if by any means you may be hid
in the day of the Lord's indignation.
2:4. For Gaza shall be destroyed, and Ascalon shall be a desert, they
shall cast out Azotus at noonday, and Accaron shall be rooted up.
2:5. Woe to you that inhabit the sea coast, O nation of reprobates:  the
word of the Lord upon you, O Chanaan, the land of the Philistines, and
I will destroy thee, so that there shall not be an inhabitant.
2:6. And the sea coast shall be the resting place of shepherds, and
folds for cattle:
2:7. And it shall be the portion of him that shall remain of the house
of Juda, there they shall feed:  in the houses of Ascalon they shall
rest in the evening:  because the Lord their God will visit them, and
bring back their captivity.
2:8. I have heard the reproach of Moab, and the blasphemies of the
children of Ammon, with which they reproached my people, and have
magnified themselves upon their borders.
2:9. Therefore as I live, saith the Lord of hosts the God of Israel,
Moab shall be as Sodom, and the children of Ammon as Gomorrha, the
dryness of thorns, and heaps of salt, and a desert even for ever:  the
remnant of my people shall make a spoil of them, and the residue of my
nation shall possess them.
2:10. This shall befall them for their pride:  because they have
blasphemed, and have been magnified against the people of the Lord of
2:11. The Lord shall be terrible upon them, and shall consume all the
gods of the earth:  and they shall adore him every man from his own
place, all the islands of the Gentiles.
2:12. You Ethiopians, also shall be slain with my sword.
2:13. And he will stretch out his hand upon the north, and will destroy
Assyria:  and he will make the beautiful city a wilderness, and as a
place not passable, and as a desert.
The beautiful city, viz. . .Ninive, which was destroyed soon after this,
viz., in the sixteenth year of the reign of Josias.
2:14. And flocks shall lie down in the midst thereof, all the beasts of
the nations:  and the bittern and the urchin shall lodge in the
threshold thereof:  the voice of the singing bird in the window, the
raven on the upper post, for I will consume her strength.
2:15. This is the glorious city that dwelt in security:  that said in
her heart:  I am, and there is none beside me:  how is she become a
desert, a place for beasts to lie down in?  every one that passeth by
her shall hiss, and wag his hand.
Sophonias Chapter 3
A woe to Jerusalem for her sins.  A prophecy of the conversion of the
Gentiles, and of the poor of Israel:  God shall be with them.  The Jews
shall be converted at last.
3:1. Woe to the provoking and redeemed city, the dove.
3:2. She hath not hearkened to the voice, neither hath she received
discipline:  she hath not trusted in the Lord, she drew not near to her
3:3. Her princes are in the midst of her as roaring lions:  her judges
are evening wolves, they left nothing for the morning.
3:4. Her prophets are senseless, men without faith:  her priests have
polluted the sanctuary, they have acted unjustly against the law.
3:5. The just Lord is in the midst thereof, he will not do iniquity:  in
the morning, in the morning he will bring his judgment to light, and it
shall not be hid:  but the wicked man hath not known shame.
3:6. I have destroyed the nations, and their towers are beaten down:  I
have made their ways desert, so that there is none that passeth by:
their cities are desolate, there is not a man remaining, nor any
3:7. I said:  Surely thou wilt fear me, thou wilt receive correction:
and her dwelling shall not perish, for all things wherein I have
visited her:  but they rose early, and corrupted all their thoughts.
3:8. Wherefore expect me, saith the Lord, in the day of my resurrection
that is to come, for my judgment is to assemble the Gentiles, and to
gather the kingdoms:  and to pour upon them my indignation, all my
fierce anger:  for with the fire of my jealousy shall all the earth be
3:9. Because then I will restore to the people a chosen lip, that all
may call upon the name of the Lord, and may serve him with one
3:10. From beyond the rivers of Ethiopia, shall my suppliants, the
children of my dispersed people, bring me an offering.
3:11. In that day thou shalt not be ashamed for all thy doings, wherein
thou hast transgressed against me for then I will take away out of the
midst of thee thy proud boasters, and thou shalt no more be lifted up
because of my holy mountain.
3:12. And I will leave in the midst of thee a poor and needy people:
and they shall hope in the name of the Lord.
3:13. The remnant of Israel shall not do iniquity, nor speak lies, nor
shall a deceitful tongue be found in their mouth:  for they shall feed,
and shall lie down, and there shall be none to make them afraid.
3:14. Give praise, O daughter of Sion:  shout, O Israel:  be glad, and
rejoice with all thy heart, O daughter of Jerusalem.
3:15. The Lord hath taken away thy judgment, he hath turned away thy
enemies:  the king of Israel, the Lord, is in the midst of thee, thou
shalt fear evil no more.
3:16. In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem:  Fear not:  to Sion:
Let not thy hands be weakened.
3:17. The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, he will save:  he
will rejoice over thee with gladness, he will be silent in his love, he
will be joyful over thee in praise.
3:18. The triflers that were departed from the law, I will gather
together, because they were of thee:  that thou mayest no more suffer
reproach for them.
3:19. Behold I will cut off all that have afflicted thee at that time:
and I will save her that halteth, and will gather her that was cast
out:  and I will get them praise, and a name, in all the land where they
had been put to confusion.
3:20. At that time, when I will bring you:  and at the time that I will
gather you:  for I will give you a name, and praise among all the people
of the earth, when I shall have brought back your captivity before your
eyes, saith the Lord.
THE PROPHECY OF AGGEUS
AGGEUS was one of those that returned from the captivity of Babylon, in
the first year of the reign of king Cyrus.  He was sent by the Lord, in
the second year of the reign of king Darius, the son of Hystaspes, to
exhort Zorobabel the prince of Juda, and Jesus the high priest, to the
building of the temple; which they had begun, but left off again
through the opposition of the Samaritans.  In consequence of this
exhortation they proceeded in the building and finished the temple.  And
the prophet was commissioned by the Lord to assure them that this
second temple should be more glorious than the former, because the
Messiah should honour it with his presence:  signifying withal how much
the church of the New Testament should excel that of the Old Testament.
Aggeus Chapter 1
The people are reproved for neglecting to build the temple.  They are
encouraged to set about the work.
1:1. In the second year of Darius the king, in the sixth month, in the
first day of the month, the word of the Lord came by the hand of Aggeus
the prophet, to Zorobabel the son of Salathiel, governor of Juda, and
to Jesus the son of Josedec the high priest, saying:
1:2. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, saying:  This people saith:  The time
is not yet come for building the house of the Lord.
1:3. And the word of the Lord came by the hand of Aggeus the prophet,
1:4. Is it time for you to dwell in ceiled houses, and this house lie
1:5. And now thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Set your hearts to consider
1:6. You have sowed much, and brought in little:  you have eaten, but
have not had enough:  you have drunk, but have not been filled with
drink:  you have clothed yourselves, but have not been warmed:  and he
that hath earned wages, put them into a bag with holes.
1:7. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Set your hearts upon your ways:
1:8. Go up to the mountain, bring timber, and build the house:  and it
shall be acceptable to me, and I shall be glorified, saith the Lord.
1:9. You have looked for more, and behold it became less, and you
brought it home, and I blowed it away:  why, saith the Lord of hosts?
because my house is desolate, and you make haste every man to his own
1:10. Therefore the heavens over you were stayed from giving dew, and
the earth was hindered from yielding her fruits:
1:11. And I called for a drought upon the land, and upon the mountains,
and upon the corn, and upon the wine, and upon the oil, and upon all
that the ground bringeth forth, and upon men, and upon beasts, and upon
all the labour of the hands.
1:12. Then Zorobabel the son of Salathiel, and Jesus the son of Josedec
the high priest, and all the remnant of the people hearkened to the
voice of the Lord their God, and to the words of Aggeus the prophet, as
the Lord their God sent him to them:  and the people feared before the
1:13. And Aggeus the messenger of the Lord, as one of the messengers of
the Lord, spoke, saying to the people:  I am with you, saith the Lord.
1:14. And the Lord stirred up the spirit of Zorobabel the son of
Salathiel governor of Juda, and the spirit of Jesus the son of Josedec
the high priest, and the spirit of all the rest of the people:  and they
went in, and did the work in the house of the Lord of Hosts their God.
Aggeus Chapter 2
Christ by his coming shall make the latter temple more glorious than
the former.  The blessing of God shall reward their labour in building.
God's promise to Zorobabel.
2:1. In the four and twentieth day of the month, in the sixth month, in
the second year of Darius the king, they began.
2:2. And in the seventh month, the word of the Lord came by the hand of
Aggeus the prophet, saying:
2:3. Speak to Zorobabel the son of Salathiel the governor of Juda, and
to Jesus the son of Josedec the high priest, and to the rest of the
people, saying:
2:4. Who is left among you, that saw this house in its first glory?  and
how do you see it now?  is it not in comparison to that as nothing in
2:5. Yet now take courage, O Zorobabel, saith the Lord, and take
courage, Jesus the son of Josedec the high priest, and take courage,
all ye people of the land, saith the Lord of hosts:  and perform (for I
am with you, saith the Lord of hosts)
2:6. The word that I convenanted with you when you came out of the land
of Egypt:  and my spirit shall be in the midst of you:  fear not.
2:7. For thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Yet one little while, and I will
move the heaven and the earth, and the sea, and the dry land.
2:8. And I will move all nations:  AND THE DESIRED OF ALL NATIONS SHALL
COME:  and I will fill this house with glory:  saith the Lord of hosts.
2:9. The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, saith the Lord of hosts.
2:10. Great shall be the glory of this last house more than of the
first, saith the Lord of hosts:  and in this place I will give peace,
saith the Lord of hosts.
2:11. In the four and twentieth day of the ninth month, in the second
year of Darius the king, the word of the Lord came to Aggeus the
prophet, saying:
2:12. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Ask the priests the law, saying:
2:13. If a man carry sanctified flesh in the skirt of his garment, and
touch with his skirt, bread, or pottage, or wine, or oil, or any meat:
shall it be sanctified?  And the priests answered, and said:  No.
2:14. And Aggeus said:  If one that is unclean by occasion of a soul
touch any of all these things, shall it be defiled?  And the priests
answered, and said:  It shall be defiled.
By occasion of a soul. . .That is, by having touched the dead; in which
case, according to the prescription of the law, Num. 19.13, 22, a
person not only became unclean himself, but made every thing that he
touched unclean.  The prophet applies all this to the people, whose
souls remained unclean by neglecting the temple of God; and therefore
were not sanctified by the flesh they offered in sacrifice:  but rather
defiled their sacrifices by approaching to them in the state of
uncleanness.
2:15. And Aggeus answered, and said:  So is this people, and so is this
nation before my face, saith the Lord, and so is all the work of their
hands:  and all that they have offered there, shall be defiled.
2:16. And now consider in your hearts, from this day and upward, before
there was a stone laid upon a stone in the temple of the Lord.
2:17. When you went to a heap of twenty bushels, and they became ten:
and you went into the press, to press out fifty vessels, and they
became twenty.
2:18. I struck you with a blasting wind, and all the works of your hand
with the mildew and with hail, yet there was none among you that
returned to me, saith the Lord.
2:19. Set your hearts from this day, and henceforward, from the four
and twentieth day of the ninth month:  from the day that the foundations
of the temple of the Lord were laid, and lay it up in your hearts.
2:20. Is the seed as yet sprung up?  or hath the vine, and the fig tree,
and the pomegranate, and the olive tree as yet flourished?  from this
day I will bless you.
2:21. And the word of the Lord came a second time to Aggeus in the four
and twentieth day of the month, saying:
2:22. Speak to Zorobabel the governor of Juda, saying:  I will move both
heaven and earth.
2:23. And I will overthrow the throne of kingdoms, and will destroy the
strength of the kingdom of the Gentiles:  and I will overthrow the
chariot, and him that rideth therein:  and the horses and their riders
shall come down, every one by the sword of his brother.
2:24. In that day, saith the Lord of hosts, I will take thee, O
Zorobabel the son of Salathiel, my servant, saith the Lord, and will
make thee as a signet, for I have chosen thee, saith the Lord of hosts.
O Zorobabel. . .This promise principally relates to Christ, who was of
the race of Zorobabel.
THE PROPHECY OF ZACHARIAS
ZACHARIAS began to prophesy in the same year as Aggeus, and upon the
same occasion.  His prophecy is full of mysterious figures and promises
of blessings, partly relating to the synagogue, and partly to the
church of Christ.
Zacharias Chapter 1
The prophet exhorts the people to return to God, and declares his
visions, by which he puts them in hopes of better times.
1:1. In the eighth month, in the second year of king Darius, the word
of the Lord came to Zacharias the son of Barachias, the son of Addo,
the prophet, saying:
1:2. The Lord hath been exceeding angry with your fathers.
1:3. And thou shalt say to them:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Turn ye
to me, saith the Lord of hosts:  and I will turn to you, saith the Lord
1:4. Be not as your fathers, to whom the former prophets have cried,
saying:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Turn ye from your evil ways, and
from your wicked thoughts:  but they did not give ear, neither did they
hearken to me, saith the Lord.
1:5. Your fathers, where are they?  and the prophets, shall they live
1:6. But yet my words, and my ordinances, which I gave in charge to my
servants the prophets, did they not take hold of your fathers, and they
returned, and said:  As the Lord of hosts thought to do to us according
to our ways, and according to our devices, so he hath done to us.
1:7. In the four and twentieth day of the eleventh month which is
called Sabath, in the second year of Darius, the word of the Lord came
to Zacharias the son of Barachias, the son of Addo, the prophet,
1:8. I saw by night, and behold a man riding upon a red horse, and he
stood among the myrtle trees, that were in the bottom:  and behind him
were horses, red, speckled, and white.
A man. . .An angel in the shape of a man.  It was probably Michael, the
guardian angel of the church of God.
1:9. And I said:  What are these, my Lord?  and the angel that spoke in
me, said to me:  I will shew thee what these are:
1:10. And the man that stood among the myrtle trees answered, and said:
These are they, whom the Lord hath sent to walk through the earth.
These are they, etc. . .The guardian angels of provinces and nations.
1:11. And they answered the angel of the Lord, that stood among the
myrtle trees, and said:  We have walked through the earth, and behold
all the earth is inhabited, and is at rest.
1:12. And the angel of the Lord answered, and said:  O Lord of hosts,
how long wilt thou not have mercy on Jerusalem, and on the cities of
Juda, with which thou hast been angry?  this is now the seventieth year.
The seventieth year. . .Viz., from the beginning of the seige of
Jerusalem, in the ninth year of king Sedecias, to the second year of
king Darius.  These seventy years of the desolation of Jerusalem and the
cities of Juda, are different from the seventy years of captivity
foretold by Jeremias; which began in the fourth year of Joakim, and
ended in the first year of king Cyrus.
1:13. And the Lord answered the angel, that spoke in me, good words,
comfortable words.
1:14. And the angel that spoke in me, said to me:  Cry thou, saying:
Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  I am zealous for Jerusalem, and Sion with
a great zeal.
1:15. And I am angry with a great anger with the wealthy nations:  for I
was angry a little, but they helped forward the evil.
1:16. Therefore thus saith the Lord:  I will return to Jerusalem in
mercies:  my house shall be built in it, saith the Lord of hosts:  and
the building line shall be stretched forth upon Jerusalem.
1:17. Cry yet, saying:  Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  My cities shall
yet flow with good things:  and the Lord will yet comfort Sion, and he
will yet choose Jerusalem.
1:18. And I lifted up my eyes, and saw:  and behold four horns.
Four horns. . .The four horns represent the empires, or kingdoms, that
persecute and oppress the kingdom of God.
1:19. And I said to the angel that spoke in me:  What are these?  And he
said to me:  These are the horns that have scattered Juda, and Israel,
and Jerusalem.
1:20. And the Lord shewed me four smiths.
Four smiths. . .The four smiths, or carpenters ( for faber may signify
either) represent those whom God makes his instruments in bringing to
nothing the power of persecutors.
1:21. And I said:  What come these to do?  and he spoke, saying:  These
are the horns which have scattered Juda every man apart, and none of
them lifted up his head:  and these are come to fray them, to cast down
the horns of the nations, that have lifted up the horn upon the land of
Juda to scatter it.
Zacharias Chapter 2
Under the name of Jerusalem, he prophesieth the progress of the church
of Christ, by the conversion of some Jews and many Gentiles.
2:1. And I lifted up my eyes, and saw, and behold a man, with a
measuring line in his hand.
2:2. And I said:  Whither goest thou?  and he said to me:  To measure
Jerusalem, and to see how great is the breadth thereof, and how great
the length thereof.
2:3. And behold the angel that spoke in me went forth, and another
angel went out to meet him.
2:4. And he said to him:  Run, speak to this young man, saying:
Jerusalem shall be inhabited without walls, by reason of the multitude
of men, and of the beasts in the midst thereof.
Jerusalem shall be inhabited without walls. . .This must be understood
of the spiritual Jerusalem, the church of Christ.
2:5. And I will be to it, saith the Lord, a wall of fire round about:
and I will be in glory in the midst thereof.
2:6. O, O flee ye out of the land of the north, saith the Lord, for I
have scattered you into the four winds of heaven, saith the Lord.
2:7. O Sion, flee, thou that dwellest with the daughter of Babylon:
2:8. For thus saith the Lord of hosts:  After the glory he hath sent me
to the nations that have robbed you:  for he that toucheth you, toucheth
the apple of my eye:
2:9. For behold, I lift up my hand upon them, and they shall be a prey
to those that served them:  and you shall know that the Lord of hosts
2:10. Sing praise, and rejoice, O daughter of Sion:  for behold I come,
and I will dwell in the midst of thee:  saith the Lord.
2:11. And many nations shall be joined to the Lord in that day, and
they shall be my people, and I will dwell in the midst of thee:  and
thou shalt know that the Lord of hosts hath sent me to thee.
2:12. And the Lord shall possess Juda his portion in the sanctified
land:  and he shall yet choose Jerusalem.
2:13. Let all flesh be silent at the presence of the Lord:  for he is
risen up out of his holy habitation.
Zacharias Chapter 3
In a vision Satan appeareth accusing the high priest.  He is cleansed
from his sins.  Christ is promised, and great fruit from his passion.
3:1. And the Lord shewed me Jesus the high priest standing before the
angel of the Lord:  and Satan stood on his right hand to be his
Jesus. . .Alias, Josue, the son of Josedec, the high priest of that
3:2. And the Lord said to Satan:  The Lord rebuke thee, O Satan:  and the
Lord that chose Jerusalem rebuke thee:  Is not this a brand plucked out
of the fire?
3:3. And Jesus was clothed with filthy garments:  and he stood before
the face of the angel.
With filthy garments. . .Negligences and sins.
3:4. Who answered, and said to them that stood before him, saying:  Take
away the filthy garments from him.  And he said to him:  Behold I have
taken away thy iniquity, and have clothed thee with change of garments.
3:5. And he said:  Put a clean mitre upon his head:  and they put a clean
mitre upon his head, and clothed him with garments, and the angel of
the Lord stood.
3:6. And the angel of the Lord protested to Jesus, saying:
3:7. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  If thou wilt walk in my ways, and
keep my charge, thou also shalt judge my house, and shalt keep my
courts, and I will give thee some of them that are now present here to
walk with thee.
I will give thee, etc. . .Angels to attend and assist thee.
3:8. Hear, O Jesus thou high priest, thou and thy friends that dwell
before thee, for they are portending men:  for behold, I WILL BRING MY
SERVANT THE ORIENT.
Portending men. . .That is, men, who by words and actions are to
foreshew wonders that are to come.--Ibid.  My servant the
Orient. . .Christ, who according to his humanity is the servant of God,
is called the Orient from his rising like the sun in the east to
enlighten the world.
3:9. For behold the stone that I have laid before Jesus:  upon one stone
there are seven eyes:  behold I will grave the graving thereof, saith
the Lord of hosts:  and I will take away the iniquity of that land in
The stone. . .Another emblem of Christ, the rock, foundation, and corner
stone of his church.--Ibid.  Seven eyes. . .The manifold providence of
Christ over his church, or the seven gifts of the spirit of God.--Ibid.
One day. . .Viz., the day of the passion of Christ, the source of all
our good:  when this precious stone shall be graved, that is, cut and
pierced, with whips, thorns, nails, and spear.
3:10. In that day, saith the Lord of hosts, every man shall call his
friend under the vine and under the fig tree.
Zacharias Chapter 4
The vision of the golden candlestick and seven lamps, and of the two
olive trees.
4:1. And the angel that spoke in me came again:  and he waked me, as a
man that is wakened out of his sleep.
4:2. And he said to me:  What seest thou?  And I said:  I have looked,
and behold a candlestick all of gold, and its lamp upon the top of it:
and the seven lights thereof upon it:  and seven funnels for the lights
that were upon the top thereof.
A candlestick, etc. . .The temple of God that was then in building; and
in a more sublime sense, the church of Christ.
4:3. And two olive trees over it:  one upon the right side of the lamp,
and the other upon the left side thereof.
4:4. And I answered, and said to the angel that spoke in me, saying:
What are these things, my lord?
4:5. And the angel that spoke in me answered, and said to me:  Knowest
thou not what these things are?  And I said:  No, my lord.
4:6. And he answered, and spoke to me, saying:  This is the word of the
Lord to Zorobabel, saying:  Not with an army, nor by might, but by my
spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.
To Zorobabel. . .This vision was in favour of Zorobabel:  to assure him
of success in the building of the temple, which he had begun, signified
by the candlestick; the lamp of which, without any other industry, was
supplied with oil, dropping from the two olive trees, and distributed
by the seven funnels or pipes, to maintain the seven lights.
4:7. Who art thou, O great mountain, before Zorobabel?  thou shalt
become a plain:  and he shall bring out the chief stone, and shall give
equal grace to the grace thereof.
Great mountain. . .So he calls the opposition made by the enemies of
God's people; which nevertheless, without an army or might on their
side, was quashed by divine providence.--Ibid.  Shall give equal grace,
etc. . .Shall add grace to grace, or beauty to beauty.
4:8. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
4:9. The hands of Zorobabel have laid the foundations of this house,
and his hands shall finish it:  and you shall know that the Lord of
hosts hath sent me to you.
4:10. For who hath despised little days?  and they shall rejoice, and
shall see the tin plummet in the hand of Zorobabel.  These are the seven
eyes of the Lord, that run to and fro through the whole earth.
Little days. . .That is, these small and feeble beginnings of the temple
of God.--Ibid.  The tin plummet. . .Literally, the stone of tin.  He
means the builder's plummet, which Zorobabel shall hold in his hand for
the finishing the building.--Ibid.  The seven eyes. . .The providence of
God, that oversees and orders all things.
4:11. And I answered, and said to him:  What are these two olive trees
upon the right side of the candlestick, and upon the left side thereof
4:12. And I answered again, and said to him:  What are the two olive
branches, that are by the two golden beaks, in which are the funnels of
4:13. And he spoke to me, saying:  Knowest thou not what these are?  And
I said:  No, my lord.
4:14. And he said:  These are two sons of oil who stand before the Lord
of the whole earth.
Two sons of oil. . .That is, the two anointed ones of the Lord; viz.,
Jesus the high priest, and Zorobabel the prince.
Zacharias Chapter 5
The vision of the flying volume, and of the woman in the vessel.
5:1. And I turned and lifted up my eyes:  and I saw, and behold a volume
A volume. . .That is, a parchment, according to the form of the ancient
books, which, from being rolled up, were called volumes.
5:2. And he said to me:  What seest thou?  And I said:  I see a volume
flying:  the length thereof is twenty cubits, and the breadth thereof
5:3. And he said to me:  This is the curse that goeth forth over the
face of the earth:  for every thief shall be judged as is there written:
and every one that sweareth in like manner shall be judged by it.
5:4. I will bring it forth, saith the Lord of hosts:  and it shall come
to the house of the thief, and to the house of him that sweareth
falsely by my name:  and it shall remain in the midst of his house, and
shall consume it, with the timber thereof, and the stones thereof.
5:5. And the angel went forth that spoke in me, and he said to me:  Lift
up thy eyes, and see what this is, that goeth forth.
5:6. And I said:  What is it?  And he said:  This is a vessel going
forth.  And he said:  This is their eye in all the earth.
This is their eye. . .This is what they fix their eye upon:  or this is a
resemblance and figure of them, viz., of sinners.
5:7. And behold a talent of lead was carried, and behold a woman
sitting in the midst of the vessel.
5:8. And he said:  This is wickedness.  And he cast her into the midst of
the vessel, and cast the weight of lead upon the mouth thereof.
5:9. And I lifted up my eyes and looked:  and behold there came out two
women, and wind was in their wings, and they had wings like the wings
of a kite:  and they lifted up the vessel between the earth and the
5:10. And I said to the angel that spoke in me:  Whither do these carry
5:11. And he said to me:  That a house may be built for it in the land
of Sennaar, and that it may be established, and set there upon its own
The land of Sennaar. . .Where Babel or Babylon was built, Gen. 11.,
where note, that Babylon in holy writ is often taken for the city of
the devil:  that is, for the whole congregation of the wicked:  as
Jerusalem is taken for the city and people of God.
Zacharias Chapter 6
The vision of the four chariots.  Crowns are ordered for Jesus the high
priest, as a type of Christ.
6:1. And I turned, and lifted up my eyes, and saw:  and behold four
chariots came out from the midst of two mountains:  and the mountains
were mountains of brass.
Four chariots. . .The four great empires of the Chaldeans, Persians,
Grecians, and Romans.  Or perhaps by the fourth chariot are represented
the kings of Egypt and of Asia, the descendants of Ptolemeus and
6:2. In the first chariot were red horses, and in the second chariot
black horses.
6:3. And in the third chariot white horses, and in the fourth chariot
grisled horses, and strong ones.
6:4. And I answered, and said to the angel that spoke in me:  What are
these, my lord?
6:5. And the angel answered, and said to me:  These are the four winds
of the heaven, which go forth to stand before the Lord of all the
6:6. That in which were the black horses went forth into the land of
the north, and the white went forth after them:  and the grisled went
forth to the land the south.
The land of the north. . .So Babylon is called; because it lay to the
north in respect of Jerusalem.  The black horses, that is, the Medes and
Persians:  and after them Alexander and his Greeks, signified by the
white horses, went thither because they conquered Babylon, executed
upon it the judgments of God, which is signified, ver. 8, by the
expression of quieting his spirit.--Ibid.  The land of the
south. . .Egypt, which lay to the south of Jerusalem, and was occupied
first by Ptolemeus, and then by the Romans.
6:7. And they that were most strong, went out, and sought to go, and to
run to and fro through all the earth.  And he said:  Go, walk throughout
the earth:  and they walked throughout the earth.
6:8. And he called me, and spoke to me, saying:  Behold they that go
forth into the land of the north, have quieted my spirit in the land of
6:9. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying:
6:10. Take of them of the captivity, of Holdai, and of Tobias, and of
Idaias; thou shalt come in that day, a shalt go into the house of
Josias, the son of Sophonias, who came out of Babylon.
6:11. And thou shalt take gold and silver:  and shalt make crowns, and
thou shalt set them on the head of Jesus the son of Josedec, the high
6:12. And thou shalt speak to him, saying:  Thus saith the Lord of
hosts, saying:  BEHOLD A MAN, THE ORIENT IS HIS NAME:  and under him
shall he spring up, a shall build a temple to the Lord.
6:13. Yea, he shall build a temple to the Lord:  and he shall bear the
glory, and shall sit, and rule upon his throne:  and he shall be a
priest upon his throne, and the counsel of peace shall be between them
Between them both. . .That is, he shall unite in himself the two offices
or dignities of king and priest.
6:14. And the crowns shall be to Helem, and Tobias, and Idaias, and to
Hem, the son of Sophonias, a memorial in the temple of the Lord.
6:15. And they that are far off, shall come and shall build in the
temple of the Lord:  and you shall know that the Lord of hosts sent me
to you.  But this shall come to pass, if hearing you will hear the voice
of the Lord your God.
Zacharias Chapter 7
The people inquire concerning fasting:  they are admonished to fast from
7:1. And it came to pass in the fourth year of king Darius, that the
word of the Lord came to Zacharias, in the fourth day of the ninth
month, which is Casleu.
7:2. When Sarasar, and Rogommelech, and the men that were with him,
sent to the house of God, to entreat the face of the Lord:
7:3. To speak to the priests of the house of the Lord of hosts, and to
the prophets, saying:  Must I weep in the fifth month, or must I
sanctify myself as I have now done for many years?
The fifth month. . .They fasted on the tenth day of the fifth month;
because on that day the temple was burnt.  Therefore they inquire
whether they are to continue the fast, after the temple is rebuilt.  See
this query answered in the 19th verse of the following chapter.
7:4. And the word of the Lord of hosts came to me, saying:
7:5. Speak to all the people of the land, and to the priests, saying:
When you fasted, and mourned in the fifth and the seventh month for
these seventy years:  did you keep a fast unto me?
7:6. And when you did eat and drink, did you not eat for yourselves,
and drink for yourselves?
7:7. Are not these the words which the Lord spoke by the hand of the
former prophets, when Jerusalem as yet was inhabited, and was wealthy,
both itself and the cities round about it, and there were inhabitants
towards the south, and in the plain?
7:8. And the word of the Lord came to Zacharias, saying:
7:9. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, saying:  Judge ye true judgment, and
shew ye mercy and compassion every man to his brother.
7:10. And oppress not the widow, and the fatherless, and the stranger,
and the poor:  and let not a man devise evil in his heart against his
7:11. But they would not hearken, and they turned away the shoulder to
depart:  and they stopped their ears, not to hear.
7:12. And they made their heart as the adamant stone, lest they should
hear the law, and the words which the Lord of hosts sent in his spirit
by the hand of the former prophets:  so a great indignation came from
Lord of hosts.
7:13. And it came to pass that as he spoke, and they heard not:  so
shall they cry, and I will not hear, saith the Lord of hosts.
7:14. And I dispersed them throughout all kingdoms, which they know
not:  and the land was left desolate behind them, so that no man passed
through or returned:  and they changed the delightful land into a
Zacharias Chapter 8
Joyful promises to Jerusalem:  fully verified in the church of Christ.
8:1. And the word of the Lord of hosts came to me, saying:
8:2. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  I have been jealous for Sion with a
great jealousy, and with a great indignation have I been jealous for
8:3. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  I am returned to Sion, and I will
dwell in the midst of Jerusalem:  and Jerusalem shall be called The city
of truth, and the mountain of the Lord of hosts, The sanctified
8:4. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  There shall yet old men and old
women dwell in the streets of Jerusalem:  and every man with his staff
in his hand through multitude of days.
8:5. And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls,
playing in the streets thereof.
8:6. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  If it seem hard in the eyes of the
remnant of this people in those days:  shall it be hard in my eyes,
saith the Lord of hosts?
8:7. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Behold I will save my people from
the land of the east, and from the land of the going down of the sun.
8:8. And I will bring them, and they shall dwell in the midst of
Jerusalem:  and they shall be my people, and I will be their God in
truth and in justice.
8:9. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  Let your hands be strengthened, you
that hear in these days these words by the mouth of the prophets, in
the day that the house of the Lord of hosts was founded, that the
temple might be built.
8:10. For before those days there was no hire for men, neither was
there hire for beasts, neither was there peace to him that came in, nor
to him that went out, because of the tribulation:  and I let all men go
every one against his neighbour.
8:11. But now I will not deal with the remnant of this people according
to the former days, saith the Lord of hosts.
8:12. But there shall be the seed of peace:  the vine shall yield her
fruit, and the earth shall give her increase, and the heavens shall
give their dew:  and I will cause the remnant of this people to possess
all these things.
8:13. And it shall come to pass, that as you were a curse among the
Gentiles, O house of Juda, and house of Israel:  so will I save you, and
you shall be a blessing:  fear not, let your hands be strengthened.
8:14. For thus saith the Lord of hosts:  As I purposed io afflict you,
when your fathers had provoked me to wrath, saith the Lord,
8:15. And I had no mercy:  so turning again I have thought in these days
to do good to the house of Juda, and Jerusalem:  fear not.
8:16. These then are the things, which you shall do:  Speak ye truth
every one to his neighbour; judge ye truth and judgment of peace in
8:17. And let none of you imagine evil in your hearts against his
friend:  and love not a false oath:  for all these are the things that I
hate, saith the Lord.
8:18. And the word of the Lord of hosts came to me, saying:
8:19. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  The fast of the fourth month, and
the fast of the fifth, and the fast of the seventh, and the fast of the
tenth shall be to the house of Juda, joy, and gladness, and great
solemnities:  only love ye truth and peace.
The fast of the fourth month, etc. . .They fasted, on the ninth day of
the fourth month, because on that day Nabuchodonosor took Jerusalem,
Jer. 52.6.  On the tenth day of the fifth month, because on that day the
temple was burnt, Jer. 52.12.  On the third day of the seventh month,
for the murder of Godolias, Jer. 41.2.  And on the tenth day of the
tenth month, because on that day the Chaldeans began to besiege
Jerusalem, 4 Kings 25.1.  All these fasts, if they will be obedient for
the future, shall be changed, as is here promised, into joyful
solemnities.
8:20. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, until people come and dwell in many
8:21. And the inhabitants go one to another, saying:  Let us go, and
entreat the face of the Lord, and let us seek the Lord of hosts:  I also
8:22. And many peoples, and strong nations shall come to seek the Lord
of hosts in Jerusalem, and to entreat the face of the Lord.
8:23. Thus saith the Lord of hosts:  In those days, wherein ten men of
all languages of the Gentiles shall take hold, and shall hold fast the
skirt of one that is a Jew, saying:  We will go with you:  for we have
heard that God is with you.
Ten men, etc. . .Many of the Gentiles became proselytes to the Jewish
religion before Christ:  but many more were converted to Christ by the
apostles and other preachers of the Jewish nation.
Zacharias Chapter 9
God will defend his church, and bring over even her enemies to the
faith.  The meek coming of Christ, to bring peace, to deliver the
captives by his blood, and to give us all good things.
9:1. The burden of the word of the Lord in the land of Hadrach, and of
Damascus the rest thereof:  for the eye of man, and of all the tribes of
Israel is the Lord's.
Hadrach. . .Syria.
9:2. Emath also in the borders thereof, and Tyre, and Sidon:  for they
have taken to themselves to be exceeding wise.
9:3. And Tyre hath built herself a strong hold, and heaped together
silver as earth, and gold as the mire of the streets.
9:4. Behold the Lord shall possess her, and shall strike her strength
in the sea, and she shall be devoured with fire.
9:5. Ascalon shall see, and shall fear, and Gaza, and shall be very
sorrowful:  and Accaron, because her hope is confounded:  and the king
shall perish from Gaza, and Ascalon shall not be inhabited.
9:6. And the divider shall sit in Azotus, and I will destroy the pride
of the Philistines.
9:7. And I will take away his blood out of his mouth, and his
abominations from between his teeth:  and even he shall be left to our
God, and he shall be as a governor in Juda, and Accaron as a Jebusite.
His blood. . .It is spoken of the Philistines, and particularly of
Azotus, (where the temple of Dagon was,) and contains a prophecy of the
conversion of that people from their bloody sacrifices and abominations
to the worship of the true God.
9:8. And I will encompass my house with them that serve me in war,
going and returning, and the oppressor shall no more pass through them:
for now I have seen with my eyes.
That serve me in war. . .Viz., the Machabees.
9:9. Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Sion, shout for joy, O daughter of
Jerusalem:  BEHOLD THY KING will come to thee, the just and saviour:  he
is poor, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt, the foal of an ass.
9:10. And I will destroy the chariot out of Ephraim, and the horse out
of Jerusalem, and the bow for war shall be broken:  and he shall speak
peace to the Gentiles, and his power shall be from sea to sea, and from
the rivers even to the end of the earth.
9:11. Thou also by the blood of thy testament hast sent forth thy
prisoners out of the pit, wherein is no water.
9:12. Return to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope, I will render
thee double as I declare today.
9:13. Because I have bent Juda for me as a bow, I have filled Ephraim:
and I will raise up thy sons, O Sion, above thy sons, O Greece, and I
will make thee as the sword of the mighty.
Thy sons, O Sion, etc. . .Viz., the apostles, who, in the spiritual way,
conquered the Greeks, and subdued them to Christ.
9:14. And the Lord God shall be seen over them, and his dart shall go
forth as lightning:  and the Lord God will sound the trumpet, and go in
the whirlwind of the south.
9:15. The Lord of hosts will protect them:  and they shall devour, and
subdue with the stones of the sling:  and drinking they shall be
inebriated as it were with wine, and they shall be filled as bowls, and
as the horns of the altar.
9:16. And the Lord their God will save them in that day, as the flock
of his people:  for holy stones shall be lifted up over his land.
Holy stones. . .The apostles, who shall be as pillars and monuments in
9:17. For what is the good thing of him, and what is his beautiful
thing, but the corn of the elect, and wine springing forth virgins?
The corn, etc. . .His most excellent gift is the blessed Eucharist,
called here The corn, that is, the bread of the elect, and the wine
springing forth virgins; that is, maketh virgins to bud, or spring
forth, as it were, like flowers among thorns; because it has a
wonderful efficacy to give and preserve purity.
Zacharias Chapter 10
God is to be sought to, and not idols.  The victories of his church,
which shall arise originally from the Jewish nation.
10:1. Ask ye of the Lord rain in the latter season, and the Lord will
make snows, and will give them showers of rain, to every one grass in
10:2. For the idols have spoken what was unprofitable, and the diviners
have seen a lie, and the dreamers have spoken vanity:  they comforted in
vain:  therefore they were led away as a flock:  they shall be afflicted,
because they have no shepherd.
10:3. My wrath is kindled against the shepherds, and I will visit upon
the buck goats:  for the Lord of hosts hath visited his flock, the house
of Juda, and hath made them as the horse of his glory in the battle.
10:4. Out of him shall come forth the corner, out of him the pin, out
of him the bow of battle, out of him ever exacter together.
10:5. And they shall be as mighty men, treading under foot the mire of
the ways in battle:  and they shall fight, because the Lord is with
them, and the riders of horses shall be confounded.
10:6. And I will strengthen the house of Juda, and save the house of
Joseph:  and I will bring them back again, because I will have mercy on
them:  and they shall be as they were when I had not cast them off, for
I am the Lord their God, and will hear them.
10:7. And they shall be as the valiant men of Ephraim, and their heart
shall rejoice as through wine:  and their children shall see, and shall
rejoice, and their heart shall be joyful in the Lord.
10:8. I will whistle for them, and I will gather them together, because
I have redeemed them:  and I will multiply them as they were multiplied
10:9. And I will sow them among peoples:  and from afar they shall
remember me:  and they shall live with their children, and shall return.
10:10. And I will bring them back out of the land of Egypt, and I will
gather them from among the Assyrians:  and will bring them to the land
of Galaad, and Libanus, and place shall not be found for them.
10:11. And he shall pass over the strait of the sea, and shall strike
the waves in the sea, and all the depths of the river shall be
confounded, and the pride of Assyria shall be humbled, and the sceptre
of Egypt shall depart.
10:12. I will strengthen them in the Lord, and they shall walk in his
name, saith the Lord.
Zacharias Chapter 11
The destruction of Jerusalem and the temple.  God's dealings with the
Jews, and their reprobation.
11:1. Open thy gates, O Libanus, and let fire devour thy cedars.
O Libanus. . .So Jerusalem, and more particularly the temple, is called
by the prophets, from its height, and from its being built of the
cedars of Libanus.--Ibid.  Thy cedars. . .Thy princes and chief men.
11:2. Howl, thou fir tree, for the cedar is fallen, for the mighty are
laid waste:  howl, ye oaks of Basan, because the fenced forest is cut
11:3. The voice of the howling of the shepherds, because their glory is
laid waste:  the voice of the roaring of the lions, because the pride of
the Jordan is spoiled.
11:4. Thus saith the Lord my God:  Feed the flock of the slaughter,
11:5. Which they that possessed, slew, and repented not, and they sold
them, saying:  Blessed be the Lord, we are become rich:  and their
shepherds spared them not.
11:6. And I will no more spare the inhabitants of the land, saith the
Lord:  behold I will deliver the men, every one into his neighbour's
hand, and into the hand of his king:  and they shall destroy the land,
and I will not deliver it out of their hand.
Every one into his neighbour's hand, etc. . .This alludes to the last
siege of Jerusalem, in which the different factions of the Jews
destroyed one another; and they that remained fell into the hands of
their king, that is, of the Roman emperor, of whom they had said, John
19.15, we have no king but Caesar.
11:7. And I will feed the flock of slaughter for this, O ye poor of the
flock.  And I took unto me two rods, one I called Beauty, and the other
I called a Cord, and I fed the flock.
Two rods. . .Or shepherd's staves, meaning the different ways of God's
dealing with his people; the one, by sweet means, called the rod of
Beauty:  the other, by bands and punishments, called the Cord.  And where
both these rods are made of no use or effect by the obstinacy of
sinners, the rods are broken, and such sinners are given up to a
reprobate sense, as the Jews were.
11:8. And I cut off three shepherds in one month, and my soul was
straitened in their regard:  for their soul also varied in my regard.
Three shepherds in one month. . .That is, in a very short time.  By these
three shepherds probably are meant the latter princes and high priests
of the Jews, whose reign was short.
11:9. And I said:  I will not feed you:  that which dieth, let it die:
and that which is cut off, let it be cut off:  and let the rest devour
every one the flesh of his neighbour.
11:10. And I took my rod that was called Beauty, and I cut it asunder
to make void my covenant, which I had made with all people.
11:11. And it was made void in that day:  and so the poor of the flock
that keep for me, understood that it is the word of the Lord.
11:12. And I said to them:  If it be good in your eyes, bring hither my
wages:  and if not, be quiet.  And they weighed for my wages thirty
pieces of silver.
11:13. And the Lord said to me:  Cast it to the statuary, a handsome
price, that I was prized at by them.  And I took the thirty pieces of
silver, and I cast them into the house of the Lord to the statuary.
The statuary. . .The Hebrew word signifies also a potter.
11:14. And I cut off my second rod that was called a Cord, that I might
break the brotherhood between Juda and Israel.
11:15. And the Lord said to me:  Take to thee yet the instruments of a
foolish shepherd.
A foolish shepherd. . .This was to represent the foolish, that is, the
wicked princes and priests that should rule the people, before their
utter desolation.
11:16. For behold I will raise up a shepherd in the land, who shall not
visit what is forsaken, nor seek what is scattered, nor heal what is
broken, nor nourish that which standeth, and he shall eat the flesh of
the fat ones, and break their hoofs.
11:17. O shepherd, and idol, that forsaketh the flock:  the sword upon
his arm and upon his right eye:  his arm shall quite wither away, and
his right eye shall be utterly darkened.
Zacharias Chapter 12
God shall protect his church against her persecutors.  The mourning of
12:1. The burden of the word of the Lord upon Israel.  Thus saith the
Lord, who stretcheth forth the heavens, and layeth the foundations of
the earth, and formeth the spirit of man in him:
12:2. Behold I will make Jerusalem a lintel of surfeiting to all the
people round about:  and Juda also shall be in the siege against
A lintel of surfeiting. . .That is, a door into which they shall seek to
enter, to glut themselves with blood; but they shall stumble, and fall
like men stupefied with wine.  It seems to allude to the times of
Antiochus, and to the victories of the Machabees.
12:3. And it shall come to pass in that day, that I will make Jerusalem
a burdensome stone to all people:  all that shall lift it up shall be
rent and torn, and all the kingdoms of the earth shall be gathered
together against her.
12:4. In that day, saith the Lord, I will strike every horse with
astonishment, and his rider with madness:  and I will open my eyes upon
the house of Juda, and will strike every horse of the nations with
12:5. And the governors of Juda shall say in their heart:  Let the
inhabitants of Jerusalem be strengthened for me in the Lord of hosts,
12:6. In that day I will make the governors of Juda like a furnace of
fire amongst wood, and as a firebrand amongst hay:  and they shall
devour all the people round about, to the right hand, and to the left:
and Jerusalem shall be inhabited again in her own place in Jerusalem.
12:7. And the Lord shall save the tabernacles of Jada, as in the
beginning:  that the house of David, and the glory of the inhabitants of
Jerusalem, may not boast and magnify themselves against Juda.
12:8. In that day shall the Lord protect the inhabitants of Jerusalem,
and he that hath offended among them in that day shall be as David:  and
the house of David, as that of God, as an angel of the Lord in their
12:9. And it shall come to pass in that day, that I will seek to
destroy all the nations that come against Jerusalem.
12:10. And I will pour out upon the house of David, and upon the
inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace, and of prayers:  and they
shall look upon me, whom they have pierced:  and they shall mourn for
him as one mourneth for an only son, and they shall grieve over him, as
the manner is to grieve for the death of the firstborn.
12:11. In that day there shall be a great lamentation in Jerusalem like
the lamentation of Adadremmon in the plain of Mageddon.
Adadremmon. . .A place near Mageddon, where the good king Josias was
slain, and much lamented by his people.
12:12. And the land shall mourn:  families and families apart:  the
families of the house of David apart, and their women apart:
12:13. The families of the house of Nathan apart, and their women
apart:  the families of the house of Levi apart, and their women apart:
the families of Semei apart, and their women apart.
12:14. All the rest of the families, families and families apart, and
their women apart.
Zacharias Chapter 13
The fountain of Christ.  Idols and false prophets shall be extirpated:
Christ shall suffer:  his people shall be tried by fire.
13:1. In that day there shall be a fountain open to the house of David,
and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem:  for the washing of the sinner, and
of the unclean woman.
13:2. And it shall come to pass in that day, saith the Lord of hosts,
that I will destroy the names of idols out of the earth, and they shall
be remembered no more:  and I will take away the false prophets, and the
unclean spirit out of the earth.
13:3. And it shall come to pass, that when any man shall prophesy any
more, his father and his mother that brought him into the world, shall
say to him:  Thou shalt not live:  because thou hast spoken a lie in the
name of the Lord.  And his father, and his mother, his parents, shall
thrust him through, when he shall prophesy.
13:4. And it shall come to pass in that day, that the prophets shall be
confounded, every one by his own vision, when he shall prophesy,
neither shall they be clad with a garment of sackcloth, to deceive:
13:5. But he shall say:  I am no prophet, I am a husbandman:  for Adam is
my example from my youth.
13:6. And they shall say to him:  What are these wounds in the midst of
thy hands?  And he shall say:  With these I was wounded in the house of
them that loved me.
13:7. Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, and against the man that
cleaveth to me, saith the Lord of hosts:  strike the shepherd, and the
sheep shall be scattered:  and I will turn my hand to the little ones.
13:8. And there shall be in all the earth, saith the Lord, two parts in
it shall be scattered, and shall perish:  but the third part shall be
left therein.
13:9. And I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine
them as silver is refined:  and I will try them as gold is tried.  They
shall call on my name, and I will hear them.  I will say:  Thou art my
people:  and they shall say:  The Lord is my God.
Zacharias Chapter 14
After the persecutions of the church shall follow great prosperity.
Persecutors shall be punished:  so shall all that will not serve God in
14:1. Behold the days of the Lord shall come, and thy spoils shall be
divided in the midst of thee.
14:2. And I will gather all nations to Jerusalem to battle, and the
city shall be taken, and the houses shall be rifled, and the women
shall be defiled:  and half of the city shall go forth into captivity,
and the rest of the people shall not be taken away out of the city.
I will gather, etc. . .This seems to be a prophecy of what was done by
14:3. Then the Lord shall go forth, and shall fight against those
nations, as when he fought in the day of battle.
14:4. And his feet shall stand in that day upon the mount of Olives,
which is over against Jerusalem towards the east:  and the mount of
Olives shall be divided in the midst thereof to the east, and to the
west with a very great opening, and half of the mountain shall be
separated to the north, and half thereof to the south.
14:5. And you shall flee to the valley of those mountains, for the
valley of the mountains shall be joined even to the next, and you shall
flee as you fled from the face of the earthquake in the days of Ozias
king of Juda:  and the Lord my God shall come, and all the saints with
14:6. And it shall come to pass in that day, that there shall be no
light, but cold and frost.
No light. . .Viz., in that dismal time of persecution of Antiochus, when
it was neither day nor night:  (ver. 7) because they neither had the
comfortable light of the day, nor the repose of the night.
14:7. And there shall be one day, which is known to the Lord, not day
nor night:  and in the time of the evening there shall be light:
In the time of the evening there shall be light. . .An unexpected light
shall arise by the means of the Machabees, when things shall seem to be
at the worst.
14:8. And it shall come to pass in that day, that living waters shall
go out from Jerusalem:  half of them to the east sea, and half of them
to the last sea:  they shall be in summer and in winter.
Living waters. . .Viz., the gospel of Christ.
14:9. And the Lord shall be king over all the earth:  in that day there
shall be one Lord, and his name shall be one.
14:10. And all the land shall return even to the desert, from the hill
to Remmon to the south of Jerusalem:  and she shall be exalted, and
shall dwell in her own place, from the gate of Benjamin even to the
place of the former gate, and even to the gate of the corners:  and from
the tower of Hananeel even to the king's winepresses.
All the land shall return, etc. . .This, in some measure, was verified
by the means of the Machabees:  but is rather to be taken in a spiritual
sense, as relating to the propagation of the church, and kingdom of
Christ, the true Jerusalem, which alone shall never fall under the
anathema of destruction, or God's curse.
14:11. And people shall dwell in it, and there shall be no more an
anathema:  but Jerusalem shall sit secure.
14:12. And this shall be the plague wherewith the Lord shall strike all
nations that have fought against Jerusalem:  the flesh of every one
shall consume away while they stand upon their feet, and their eyes
shall consume away in their holes, and their tongue shall consume away
in their mouth.
The flesh of every one shall consume, etc. . .Such judgments as these
have often fallen upon the persecutors of God's church, as appears by
many instances in history.
14:13. In that day there shall be a great tumult from the Lord among
them:  and a man shall take the hand of his neighbour, and his hand
shall be clasped upon his neighbour's hand.
14:14. And even Juda shall fight against Jerusalem:  and the riches of
all nations round about shall be gathered together, gold, and silver,
and garments in great abundance.
Even Juda, etc. . .The carnal Jews, and other false brothers, shall join
in persecuting the church.
14:15. And the destruction of the horse, and of the mule, and of the
camel, and of the ass, and of all the beasts, that shall be in those
tents, shall be like this destruction.
Shall be like this destruction. . .That is, the beasts shall be
destroyed as well as the men:  the common soldiers as well as their
14:16. And all they that shall be left of all nations that came against
Jerusalem, shall go up from year to year, to adore the King, the Lord
of hosts, and to keep the feast of tabernacles.
They that shall be left, etc. . .That is, many of them that persecuted
the church shall be converted to its faith and communion.--Ibid.  To keep
the feast of tabernacles. . .This feast was kept by the Jews in memory
of their sojourning forty years in the desert, in their way to the land
of promise.  And in the spiritual sense is duly kept by all such
Christians as in their earthly pilgrimage are continually advancing
toward their true home, the heavenly Jerusalem; by the help of the
sacraments and sacrifice of the church.  And they that neglect this must
not look for the kind showers of divine grace, to give fruitfulness to
their souls.
14:17. And it shall come to pass, that he that shall not go up of the
families of the land to Jerusalem, to adore the King, the Lord of
hosts, there shall be no rain upon them.
14:18. And if the family of Egypt go not up nor come:  neither shall it
be upon them, but there shall be destruction wherewith the Lord will
strike all nations that will not go up to keep the feast of
tabernacles.
14:19. This shall be the sin of Egypt, and this the sin of all nations,
that will not go up to keep the feast of tabernacles.
14:20. In that day that which is upon the bridle of the horse shall be
holy to the Lord:  and the caldrons in the house of the Lord shall be as
the phials before the altar.
That which is upon the bridle, etc. . .The golden ornaments of the
bridles, etc., shall be turned into offerings in the house of God.  And
there shall be an abundance of caldrons and phials for the sacrifices
of the temple; by which is meant, under a figure, the great resort
there shall be to the temple, that is, to the church of Christ, and her
14:21. And every caldron in Jerusalem and Juda shall be sanctified to
the Lord of hosts:  and all that sacrifice shall come, and take of them,
and shall seethe in them:  and the merchant shall be no more in the
house of the Lord of hosts in that day.
The merchant shall be no more, etc. . .Or, as some render it, The
Chanaanite shall be no more, etc., that is, the profane and unbelievers
shall have no title to be in the house of the Lord.  Or there shall be
no occasion for buyers or sellers of oxen, or sheep, or doves, in the
house of God, such as Jesus Christ cast out of the temple.
THE PROPHECY OF MALACHIAS
MALACHIAS, whose name signifies The Angel of the Lord, was contemporary
with NEHEMIAS, and by some is believed to have been the same person as
ESDRAS.  He was the last of the prophets, in the order of time, and
flourished about four hundred years before Christ.  He foretells the
coming of Christ; the reprobation of the Jews and their sacrifices; and
the calling of the Gentiles, who shall offer up to God in every place
an acceptable sacrifice.
Malachias Chapter 1
God reproaches the Jews with their ingratitude:  and the priests for not
offering pure sacrifices.  He will accept of the sacrifice that shall be
offered in every place among the Gentiles.
1:1. The burden of the word of the Lord to Israel by the hand of
1:2. I have loved you, saith the Lord:  and you have said:  Wherein hast
thou loved us?  Was not Esau brother to Jacob, saith the Lord, and I
have loved Jacob,
I have loved Jacob, etc. . .I have preferred his posterity, to make them
my chosen people, and to lead them with my blessings, without any merit
on their part, and though they have been always ungrateful; whilst I
have rejected Esau, and executed severe judgments upon his posterity.
Not that God punished Esau, or his posterity, beyond their desert:  but
that by his free election and grace he loved Jacob, and favoured his
posterity above their deserts.  See the annotations upon Rom. 9.
1:3. But have hated Esau?  and I have made his mountains a wilderness,
and given his inheritance to the dragons of the desert.
1:4. But if Edom shall say:  We are destroyed, but we will return and
build up what hath been destroyed:  thus saith the Lord of hosts:  They
shall build up, and I will throw down:  and they shall be called the
borders of wickedness, and the people with whom the Lord is angry for
1:5. And your eyes shall see:  and you shall say:  The Lord be magnified
upon the border of Israel.
1:6. The son honoureth the father, and the servant his master:  if then
I be a father, where is my honour?  and if I be a master, where is my
fear:  saith the Lord of hosts.
1:7. To you, O priests, that despise my name, and have said:  Wherein
have we despised thy name?  You offer polluted bread upon my altar, and
you say:  Wherein have we polluted thee?  In that you say:  The table of
the Lord is contemptible.
1:8. If you offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil?  and if you
offer the lame and the sick, is it not evil?  offer it to thy prince, if
he will be pleased with it, or if he will regard thy face, saith the
Lord of hosts.
1:9. And now beseech ye the face of God, that he may have mercy on you,
(for by your hand hath this been done,) if by any means he will receive
your faces, saith the Lord of hosts.
1:10. Who is there among you, that will shut the doors, and will kindle
the fire on my altar gratis?  I have no pleasure in you, saith the Lord
of hosts:  and I will not receive a gift of your hand.
1:11. For from the rising of the sun even to the going down, my name is
great among the Gentiles, and in every place there is sacrifice, and
there is offered to my name a clean oblation:  for my name is great
among the Gentiles, saith the Lord of hosts.
A clean oblation. . .Viz., the precious body and blood of Christ in the
eucharistic sacrifice.
1:12. And you have profaned it in that you say:  The table of the Lord
is defiled:  and that which is laid thereupon is contemptible with the
fire that devoureth it.
1:13. And you have said:  Behold of our labour, and you puffed it away,
saith the Lord of hosts, and you brought in of rapine the lame, and the
sick, and brought in an offering:  shall I accept it at your hands,
saith the Lord?
Behold of our labour, etc. . .You pretended labour and weariness, when
you brought your offering; and so made it of no value, by offering it
with an evil mind.  Moreover, what you offered was both defective in
itself, and gotten by rapine and extortion.
1:14. Cursed is the deceitful man that hath in his flock a male, and
making a vow offereth in sacrifice that which is feeble to the Lord:
for I am a great King, saith the Lord of hosts, and my name is dreadful
among the Gentiles.
Malachias Chapter 2
The priests are sharply reproved for neglecting their covenant.  The
evil of marrying with idolaters:  and too easily putting away their
2:1. And now, O ye priests, this commandment is to you.
2:2. If you will not hear, and if you will not lay it to heart, to give
glory to my name, saith the Lord of hosts:  I will send poverty upon
you, and will curse your blessings, yea I will curse them, because you
have not laid it to heart.
2:3. Behold, I will cast the shoulder to you, and will scatter upon
your face the dung of your solemnities, and it shall take you away with
I will cast the shoulder to you. . .I will cast away the shoulder, which
in the law was appointed to be your portion, and fling it at you in my
anger:  and will reject both you and your festivals like dung.
2:4. And you shall know that I sent you this commandment, that my
covenant might be with Levi, saith the Lord of hosts.
2:5. My covenant was with him of life and peace:  and I gave him fear:
and he feared me, and he was afraid before my name.
2:6. The law of truth was in his mouth, and iniquity was not found in
his lips:  he walked with me in peace, and in equity, and turned many
away from iniquity.
2:7. For the lips of the priests shall keep knowledge, and they shall
seek the law at his mouth:  because he is the angel of the Lord of
The angel. . .Viz., the minister and messenger.
2:8. But you have departed out of the way, and have caused many to
stumble at the law:  you have made void the covenant of Levi, saith the
Lord of hosts.
2:9. Therefore have I also made you contemptible, and base before all
people, as you have not kept my ways, and have accepted persons in the
2:10. Have we not all one father?  hath not one God created us?  why then
doth every one of us despise his brother, violating the covenant of our
2:11. Juda hath transgressed, and abomination hath been committed in
Israel, and in Jerusalem:  for Juda hath profaned the holiness of the
Lord, which he loved, and hath married the daughter of a strange god.
2:12. The Lord will cut off the man that hath done this, both the
master, and the scholar, out of the tabernacles of Jacob, and him that
offereth an offering to the Lord of hosts.
2:13. And this again have you done, you have covered the altar of the
Lord with tears, with weeping, and bellowing, so that I have no more a
regard to sacrifice, neither do I accept any atonement at your hands.
With tears. . .Viz., by occasion of your wives, whom you have put away:
and who came to weep and lament before the altar.
2:14. And you have said:  For what cause?  Because the Lord hath been
witness between thee, and the wife of thy youth, whom thou hast
despised:  yet she was thy partner, and the wife of thy covenant.
2:15. Did not one make her, and she is the residue of his spirit?  And
what doth one seek, but the seed of God?  Keep then your spirit, and
despise not the wife of thy youth.
2:16. When thou shalt hate her put her away, saith the Lord, the God of
Israel:  but iniquity shalt cover his garment, saith the Lord of hosts,
keep your spirit, and despise not.
Iniquity shall cover his garment. . .Viz., of every man that putteth
away his wife without just cause; notwithstanding that God permitted it
in the law, to prevent the evil of murder.
2:17. You have wearied the Lord with your words, and you said:  Wherein
have we wearied him?  In that you say:  Every one that doth evil, is good
in the sight of the Lord, and such please him:  or surely where is the
God of judgment?
Malachias Chapter 3
Christ shall come to his temple, and purify the priesthood.  They that
continue in their evil ways shall be punished:  but true penitents shall
receive a blessing.
3:1. Behold I send my angel, and he shall prepare the way before my
face.  And presently the Lord, whom you seek, and the angel of the
testament, whom you desire, shall come to his temple.  Behold, he
cometh, saith the Lord of hosts.
My angel. . .Viz., John the Baptist, the messenger of God, and
forerunner of Christ.
3:2. And who shall be able to think of the day of his coming?  and who
shall stand to see him?  for he is like a refining fire, and like the
fuller's herb:
3:3. And he shall sit refining and cleansing the silver, and he shall
purify the sons of Levi, and shall refine them as gold, and as silver,
and they shall offer sacrifices to the Lord in justice.
3:4. And the sacrifice of Juda and of Jerusalem shall please the Lord,
as in the days of old, and in the ancient years.
3:5. And I will come to you in judgment, and will be a speedy witness
against sorcerers, and adulterers, and false swearers, and them that
oppress the hireling in his wages, the widows, and the fatherless:  and
oppress the stranger, and have not feared me, saith the Lord of hosts.
3:6. For I am the Lord, and I change not:  and you the sons of Jacob are
not consumed.
3:7. For from the days of your fathers you have departed from my
ordinances, and have not kept them:  Return to me, and I will return to
you, saith the Lord of hosts.  And you have said:  Wherein shall we
3:8. Shall a man afflict God, for you afflict me.  And you have said:
Wherein do we afflict thee?  in tithes and in firstfruits.
3:9. And you are cursed with want, and you afflict me, even the whole
nation of you.
3:10. Bring all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat
in my house, and try me in this, saith the Lord:  if I open not unto you
the flood-gates of heaven, and pour you out a blessing even to
3:11. And I will rebuke for your sakes the devourer, and he shall not
spoil the fruit of your land:  neither shall the vine in the field be
barren, saith the Lord of hosts.
3:12. And all nations shall call you blessed:  for you shall be a
delightful land, saith the Lord of hosts.
3:13. Your words have been unsufferable to me, saith the Lord.
3:14. And you have said:  What have we spoken against thee?  You have
said:  He laboureth in vain that serveth God, and what profit is it that
we have kept his ordinances, and that we have walked sorrowful before
the Lord of hosts?
3:15. Wherefore now we call the proud people happy, for they that work
wickedness are built up, and they have tempted God and are preserved.
3:16. Then they that feared the Lord, spoke every one with his
neighbour:  and the Lord gave ear, and heard it:  and a book of
remembrance was written before him for them that fear the Lord, and
think on his name.
3:17. And they shall be my special possession, saith the Lord of hosts,
in the day that I do judgment:  and I will spare them, as a man spareth
his son that serveth him.
3:18. And you shall return, and shall see the difference between the
just and the wicked:  and between him that serveth God, and him that
serveth him not.
Malachias Chapter 4
The judgment of the wicked, and reward of the just.  An exhortation to
observe the law.  Elias shall come for the conversion of the Jews.
4:1. For behold the day shall come kindled as a furnace:  and all the
proud, and all that do wickedly shall be stubble:  and the day that
cometh shall set them on fire, saith the Lord of hosts, it shall not
leave them root, nor branch.
4:2. But unto you that fear my name, the Sun of justice shall arise,
and health in his wings:  and you shall go forth, and shall leap like
calves of the herd.
4:3. And you shall tread down the wicked when they shall be ashes under
the sole of your feet in the day that I do this, saith the Lord of
4:4. Remember the law of Moses my servant, which I commanded him in
Horeb for all Israel, the precepts, and judgments.
4:5. Behold, I will send you Elias the prophet, before the coming of
the great and dreadful day of the Lord.
4:6. And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and
the heart of the children to their fathers:  lest I come, and strike the
earth with anathema.
He shall turn the heart, etc. . .By bringing over the Jews to the faith
of Christ, he shall reconcile them to their fathers, viz., the
partiarchs and prophets; whose hearts for many ages have been turned
away from them, because of their refusing to believe in Christ.--Ibid.
With anathema. . .In the Hebrew, Cherem, that is, with utter
destruction.
THE FIRST BOOK OF MACHABEES
These books are so called, because they contain the history of the
people of God under the command of Judas Machabeus and his brethren:
and he, as some will have it, was surnamed Machabeus, from carrying in
his ensigns, or standards, those words of Exodus 15.11, Who is like to
thee among the strong, O Lord:  in which the initial letters, in the
Hebrew, are M. C. B. E. I.  It is not known who is the author of these
books.  But as to their authority, though they are not received by the
Jews, saith St. Augustine, (lib. 18, De Civ. Dei, c. 36,) they are
received by the church:  who, in settling her canon of the scriptures,
chose rather to be directed by the tradition she had received from the
apostles of Christ, than by that of the scribes and Pharisees.  And as
the church has declared these two Books canonical, even in two general
councils, viz., Florence and Trent, there can be no doubt of their
authenticity.
1 Machabees Chapter 1
The reign of Alexander and his successors:  Antiochus rifles and
profanes the temple of God:  and persecutes unto death all that will not
forsake the law of God, and the religion of their fathers.
1:1. Now it came to pass, after that Alexander the son of Philip the
Macedonian, who first reigned in Greece, coming out of the land of
Cethim, had overthrown Darius, king of the Persians and Medes:
1:2. He fought many battles, and took the strong holds of all, and slew
the kings of the earth:
1:3. And he went through even to the ends of the earth:  and took the
spoils of many nations:  and the earth was quiet before him.
1:4. And he gathered a power, and a very strong army:  and his heart was
exalted and lifted up:
1:5. And he subdued countries of nations, and princes; and they became
tributaries to him.
1:6. And after these things, he fell down upon his bed, and knew that
he should die.
1:7. And he called his servants, the nobles that were brought up with
him from his youth:  and he divided his kingdom among them, while he was
Divided his kingdom, etc. . .This is otherwise related by Q.  Curtius;
though he acknowledges that divers were of that opinion, and that it
had been delivered by some authors, lib. 10.  But here we find from the
sacred text, that he was in error.
1:8. And Alexander reigned twelve years, and he died.
1:9. And his servants made themselves kings, every one in his place:
1:10. And they all put crowns upon themselves after his death, and
their sons after them, many years; and evils were multiplied in the
1:11. And there came out of them a wicked root, Antiochus the
Illustrious, the son of king Antiochus, who had been a hostage at Rome:
and he reigned in the hundred and thirty-seventh year of the kingdom of
Antiochus the Illustrius. . .Epiphanes, the younger son of Antiochus the
Great, who usurped the kingdom, to the prejudice of his nephew
Demetrius, son of his elder brother Seleucus Philopater.--Ibid.  Of the
kingdom of the Greeks. . .Counting, not from the beginning of the reign
of Alexander, but from the first year of Seleucus Nicator.
1:12. In those days there went out of Israel wicked men, and they
persuaded many, saying:  Let us go and make a covenant with the heathens
that are round about us:  for since we departed from them, many evils
have befallen us.
1:13. And the word seemed good in their eyes.
1:14. And some of the people determined to do this, and went to the
king:  and he gave them license to do after the ordinances of the
1:15. And they built a place of exercise in Jerusalem, according to the
laws of the nations:
1:16. And they made themselves prepuces, and departed from the holy
covenant, and joined themselves to the heathens, and were sold to do
1:17. And the kingdom was established before Antiochus, and he had a
mind to reign over the land of Egypt, that he might reign over two
1:18. And he entered into Egypt with a great multitude, with chariots,
and elephants, and horsemen, and a great number of ships:
1:19. And he made war against Ptolemee king of Egypt; but Ptolemee was
afraid at his presence and fled, and many were wounded unto death.
1:20. And he took the strong cities in the land of Egypt:  and he took
the spoils of the land of Egypt.
1:21. And after Antiochus had ravaged Egypt, in the hundred and
forty-third year, he returned and went up against Israel.
1:22. And he went up to Jerusalem, with a great multitude.
1:23. And he proudly entered into the sanctuary, and took away the
golden altar, and the candlestick of light, and all the vessels
thereof, and the table of proposition, and the pouring vessels, and the
vials, and the little mortars of gold, and the veil, and the crowns,
and the golden ornament that was before the temple:  and he broke them
all in pieces.
1:24. And he took the silver and gold, and the precious vessels:  and he
took the hidden treasures, which he found:  and when he had taken all
away, he departed into his own country.
1:25. And he made a great slaughter of men, and spoke very proudly.
1:26. And there was great mourning in Israel, and in every place where
1:27. And the princes, and the ancients mourned, and the virgins and
the young men were made feeble, and the beauty of the women was
1:28. Every bridegroom took up lamentation:  and the bride that sat in
the marriage bed, mourned:
1:29. And the land was moved for the inhabitants thereof, and all the
house of Jacob was covered with confusion.
1:30. And after two full years, the king sent the chief collector of
his tributes to the cities of Juda, and he came to Jerusalem with a
great multitude.
The chief collector, etc. . .Apollonius.
1:31. And he spoke to them peaceable words in deceit; and they believed
1:32. And he fell upon the city suddenly, and struck it with a great
slaughter, and destroyed much people in Israel.
1:33. And he took the spoils of the city, and burnt it with fire, and
threw down the houses thereof, and the walls thereof round about:
1:34. And they took the women captive, and the children, and the cattle
they possessed.
1:35. And they built the city of David with a great and strong wall,
and with strong towers, and made it a fortress for them:
The city of David. . .That is, the castle of Sion.
1:36. And they placed there a sinful nation, wicked men, and they
fortified themselves therein:  and they stored up armour; and victuals,
and gathered together the spoils of Jerusalem;
1:37. And laid them up there:  and they became a great snare.
1:38. And this was a place to lie in wait against the sanctuary, and an
evil devil in Israel.
An evil devil. . .That is, an adversary watching constantly to do harm,
as the evil spirit is always watching and seeking whom he may devour.
1:39. And they shed innocent blood round about the sanctuary, and
defiled the holy place.
1:40. And the inhabitants of Jerusalem fled away by reason of them and
the city was made the habitation of strangers, and she became a
stranger to her own seed, and her children forsook her.
1:41. Her sanctuary was desolate like a wilderness, her festival days
were turned into mourning, her sabbaths into reproach, her honours were
brought to nothing.
1:42. Her dishonour was increased according to her glory, and her
excellency was turned into mourning.
1:43. And king Antiochus wrote to all his kingdom, that all the people
should be one:  and every one should leave his own law.
1:44. And all nations consented, according to the word of king
1:45. And many of Israel consented to his service, and they sacrificed
to idols, and profaned the sabbath.
1:46. And the king sent letters by the hands of messengers to
Jerusalem, and to all the cities of Juda; that they should follow the
law of the nations of the earth.
1:47. And should forbid holocausts and sacrifices, and atonements to be
made in the temple of God.
1:48. And should prohibit the sabbath, and the festival days to be
1:49. And he commanded the holy places to be profaned, and the holy
people of Israel.
1:50. And he commanded altars to be built, and temples, and idols, and
swine's flesh to be immolated, and unclean beasts,
1:51. And that they should leave their children uncircumcised, and let
their souls be defiled with all uncleannesses, and abominations, to the
end that they should forget the law, and should change all the
justifications of God.
1:52. And that whosoever would not do according to the word of king
Antiochus, should be put to death.
1:53. According to all these words he wrote to his whole kingdom:  and
he appointed rulers over the people that should force them to do these
1:54. And they commanded the cities of Juda to sacrifice.
1:55. Then many of the people were gathered to them that had forsaken
the law of the Lord:  and they committed evils in the land:
1:56. And they drove away the people of Israel into lurking holes, and
into the secret places of fugitives.
1:57. On the fifteenth day of the month, Casleu, in the hundred and
forty-fifth year, king Antiochus set up the abominable idol of
desolation upon the altar of God, and they built altars throughout all
the cities of Juda round about:
The abominable idol, etc. . .Viz., the statue of Jupiter Olympius.
1:58. And they burnt incense, and sacrificed at the doors of the houses
and in the streets.
1:59. And they cut in pieces, and burnt with fire the books of the law
1:60. And every one with whom the books of the testament of the Lord
were found, and whosoever observed the law of the Lord, they put to
death, according to the edict of the king.
1:61. Thus by their power did they deal with the people of Israel, that
were found in the cities month after month.
1:62. And on the five and twentieth day of the month they sacrificed
upon the altar of the idol that was over against the altar of God.
1:63. Now the women that circumcised their children were slain
according to the commandment of king Antiochus,
1:64. And they hanged the children about their neck in all their
houses:  and those that had circumcised them, they put to death.
1:65. And many of the people of Israel determined with themselves, that
they would not eat unclean things:  and they chose rather to die, than
to be defiled with unclean meats:
1:66. And they would not break the holy law of God and they were put to
1:67. And there was very great wrath upon the people.
1 Machabees Chapter 2
The zeal and success of Mathathias.  His exhortation to his sons at his
2:1. In those days arose Mathathias, the son of John, the son of
Simeon, a priest of the sons of Joarib, from Jerusalem, and he abode in
the mountain of Modin:
2:2. And he had five sons:  John, who was surnamed Gaddis:
2:3. And Simon, who was surnamed Thasi;
2:4. And Judas, who was called Machabeus;
2:5. And Eleazar, who was surnamed Abaron; and Jonathan, who was
surnamed Apphus.
2:6. These saw the evils that were done in the people of Juda, and in
2:7. And Mathathias said:  Woe is me, wherefore was I born to see the
ruin of my people, and the ruin of the holy city, and to dwell there,
when it is given into the hands of the enemies?
2:8. The holy places are come into the hands of strangers her temple is
become as a man without honour.
2:9. The vessels of her glory are carried away captive; her old men are
murdered in the streets, and her young men are fallen by the sword of
the enemies.
2:10. What nation hath not inherited her kingdom, and gotten of her
2:11. All her ornaments are taken away.  She that was free is made a
2:12. And behold our sanctuary, and our beauty, and our glory is laid
waste, and the Gentiles have defiled them.
2:13. To what end then should we live any longer?
2:14. And Mathathias and his sons rent their garments, and they covered
themselves with haircloth, and made great lamentation.
2:15. And they that were sent from king Antiochus, came thither, to
compel them that were fled into the city of Modin, to sacrifice, and to
burn incense, and to depart from the law of God.
2:16. And many of the people of Israel consented and came to them:  but
Mathathias and his sons stood firm.
2:17. And they that were sent from Antiochus, answering, said to
Mathathias:  Thou art a ruler, and an honourable, and great man in this
city, and adorned with sons, and brethren.
2:18. Therefore, come thou first, and obey the king's commandment, as
all nations have done, and the men of Juda, and they that remain in
Jerusalem:  and thou, and thy sons shall be in the number of the king's
friends, and enriched with gold, and silver, and many presents.
2:19. Then Mathathias answered, and said with a loud voice:  Although all
nations obey king Antiochus, so as to depart every man from the service
of the law of his fathers, and consent to his commandments:
2:20. I and my sons, and my brethren will obey the law of our fathers.
2:21. God be merciful unto us:  it is not profitable for us to forsake
the law, and the justices of God:
2:22. We will not hearken to the words of king Antiochus, neither will
we sacrifice and transgress the commandments of our law, to go another
2:23. Now as he left off speaking these words, there came a certain Jew
in the sight of all to sacrifice to the idols upon the altar in the
city of Modin, according to the king's commandment.
2:24. And Mathathias saw, and was grieved, and his reins trembled, and
his wrath was kindled according to the judgment of the law, and running
upon him he slew him upon the altar:
2:25. Moreover the man whom king Antiochus had sent, who compelled them
to sacrifice, he slew at the same time, and pulled down the altar,
2:26. And shewed zeal for the law, as Phinees did by Zamri, the son of
2:27. And Mathathias cried out in the city with a loud voice, saying:
Every one that hath zeal for the law, and maintaineth the testament,
let him follow me.
2:28. So he and his sons fled into the mountains, and left all that
they had in the city.
2:29. Then many that sought after judgment, and justice, went down into
2:30. And they abode there, they and their children, and their wives,
and their cattle:  because afflictions increased upon them.
2:31. And it was told to the king's men, and to the army that was in
Jerusalem, in the city of David, that certain men, who had broken the
king's commandment, were gone away into the secret places in the
wilderness, and that many were gone after them.
2:32. And forthwith they went out towards them, and made war against
them on the sabbath day.
2:33. And they said to them:  Do you still resist?  come forth, and do
according to the edict of king Antiochus, and you shall live.
2:34. And they said:  We will not come forth, neither will we obey the
king's edict, to profane the sabbath day.
2:35. And they made haste to give them battle.
2:36. But they answered them not, neither did they cast a stone at
them, nor stopped up the secret places,
2:37. Saying:  Let us all die in our innocency:  and heaven and earth
shall be witnesses for us, that you put us to death wrongfully.
2:38. So they gave them battle on the sabbath:  and they were slain,
with their wives, and their children, and their cattle, to the number
of a thousand persons.
2:39. And Mathathias and his friends heard of it, and they mourned for
them exceedingly.
2:40. And every man said to his neighbour:  If we shall all do as our
brethren have done, and not fight against the heathens for our lives,
and our justifications, they will now quickly root us out of the earth.
2:41. And they determined in that day, saying:  Whosoever shall come up
against us to fight on the sabbath day, we will fight against him:  and
we will not all die, as our brethren that were slain in the secret
2:42. Then was assembled to them the congregation of the Assideans, the
stoutest of Israel, every one that had a good will for the law.
The Assideans. . .A set of men that led a religious life; and were
zealous for the law and worship of God.
2:43. And all they that fled from the evils, joined themselves to them,
and were a support to them.
2:44. And they gathered an army, and slew the sinners in their wrath,
and the wicked men in their indignation:  and the rest fled to the
nations for safety.
2:45. And Mathathias and his friends went round about, and they threw
down the altars:
2:46. And they circumcised all the children whom they found in the
confines of Israel that were uncircumcised:  and they did valiantly.
2:47. And they pursued after the children of pride, and the work
prospered in their hands:
2:48. And they recovered the law out of the hands of the nations, and
out of the hands of the kings:  and they yielded not the horn to the
They yielded not the horn, etc. . .That is, they suffered not the power
of Antiochus, that man of sin, to abolish the law and religion of God.
2:49. Now the days drew near that Mathathias should die, and he said to
his sons:  Now hath pride and chastisement gotten strength, and the time
of destruction, and the wrath of indignation:
2:50. Now, therefore, O my sons, be ye zealous for the law, and give
your lives for the covenant of your fathers.
2:51. And call to remembrance the works of the fathers, which they have
done in their generations:  and you shall receive great glory, and an
everlasting name.
2:52. Was not Abraham found faithful in temptation, and it was reputed
to him unto justice?
2:53. Joseph, in the time of his distress, kept the commandment, and he
was made lord of Egypt.
2:54. Phinees, our father, by being fervent in the zeal of God,
received the covenant of an everlasting priesthood.
2:55. Jesus, whilst he fulfilled the word, was made ruler in Israel.
Jesus. . .That is, Josue.
2:56. Caleb, for bearing witness before the congregation, received an
inheritance.
2:57. David, by his mercy, obtained the throne of an everlasting
2:58. Elias, while he is full of zeal for the law, was taken up into
2:59. Ananias and Azarias and Misael, by believing, were delivered out
of the flame.
2:60. Daniel, in his innocency, was delivered out of the mouth of the
2:61. And thus consider, through all generations:  that none that trust
in him, fail in strength.
2:62. And fear not the words of a sinful man, for his glory is dung and
2:63. Today he is lifted up, and tomorrow he shall not be found,
because he is returned into his earth and his thought is come to
2:64. You, therefore, my sons, take courage, and behave manfully in the
law:  for by it you shall be glorious.
2:65. And behold, I know that your brother Simon is a man of counsel:
give ear to him always, and he shall be a father to you.
2:66. And Judas Machabeus, who is valiant and strong from his youth up,
let him be the leader of your army, and he shall manage the war of the
2:67. And you shall take to you all that observe the law:  and revenge
ye the wrong of your people.
2:68. Render to the Gentiles their reward, and take heed to the
precepts of the law.
2:69. And he blessed them, and was joined to his fathers.
2:70. And he died in the hundred and forty-sixth year:  and he was
buried by his sons in the sepulchres of his fathers, in Modin, and all
Israel mourned for him with great mourning.
1 Machabees Chapter 3
Judas Machabeus succeeds his father, and overthrows Apollonius and
Seron.  A great army is sent against him out of Syria.  He prepares his
people for battle by fasting and prayer.
3:1. Then his son Judas, called Machabeus, rose up in his stead.
3:2. And all his brethren helped him, and all they that had joined
themselves to his father, and they fought with cheerfulness the battle
3:3. And he got his people great honour, and put on a breastplate as a
giant, and girt his warlike armour about him in battles, and protected
the camp with his sword.
3:4. In his acts he was like a lion, and like a lion's whelp roaring
for his prey.
3:5. And he pursued the wicked and sought them out, and them that
troubled his people he burnt with fire:
3:6. And his enemies were driven away for fear of him, and all the
workers of iniquity were troubled:  and salvation prospered in his hand.
3:7. And he grieved many kings, and made Jacob glad with his works, and
his memory is blessed for ever.
3:8. And he went through the cities of Juda, and destroyed the wicked
out of them, and turned away wrath from Israel.
3:9. And he was renowned even to the utmost part of the earth, and he
gathered them that were perishing.
3:10. And Apollonius gathered together the Gentiles, and a numerous and
great army from Samaria, to make war against Israel.
3:11. And Judas understood it, and went forth to meet him:  and he
overthrew him, and killed him:  and many fell down slain, and the rest
3:12. And he took their spoils, and Judas took the sword of Apollonius,
and fought with it all his lifetime.
3:13. And Seron, captain of the army of Syria, heard that Judas had
assembled a company of the faithful, and a congregation with him,
3:14. And he said I will get me a name, and will be glorified in the
kingdom, and will overthrow Judas, and those that are with him, that
have despised the edict of the king.
3:15. And he made himself ready; and the host of the wicked went up
with him, strong succours, to be revenged of the children of Israel.
3:16. And they approached even as far as Bethoron:  and Judas went forth
to meet him, with a small company.
3:17. But when they saw the army coming to meet them, they said to
Judas:  How shall we, being few, be able to fight against so great a
multitude, and so strong, and we are ready to faint with fasting today?
3:18. And Judas said:  It is an easy matter for many to be shut up in
the hands of a few:  and there is no difference in the sight of the God
of heaven to deliver with a great multitude, or with a small company:
3:19. For the success of war is not in the multitude of the army, but
strength cometh from heaven.
3:20. They come against us with an insolent multitude, and with pride,
to destroy us, and our wives, and our children, and to take our spoils.
3:21. But we will fight for our lives, and our laws:
3:22. And the Lord himself will overthrow them before our face, but as
for you, fear them not
3:23. And as soon as he had made an end of speaking, he rushed suddenly
upon them:  and Seron, and his host were overthrown before him:
3:24. And he pursued him by the descent of Bethoron, even to the plain,
and there fell of them eight hundred men, and the rest fled into the
land of the Philistines.
3:25. And the fear of Judas, and of his brethren, and the dread of
them, fell upon all the nations round about them.
3:26. And his fame came to the king, and all nations told of the
battles of Judas.
3:27. Now when king Antiochus heard these words, he was angry in his
mind:  and he sent, and gathered the forces of all his kingdom, an
exceeding strong army.
3:28. And he opened his treasury, and gave out pay to the army for a
year:  and he commanded them, that they should be ready for all things.
3:29. And he perceived that the money of his treasures failed, and that
the tributes of the country were small, because of the dissension, and
the evil that he had brought upon the land, that he might take away the
laws of old times:
3:30. And he feared that he should not have as formerly enough for
charges and gifts, which he had given before with a liberal hand:  for
he had abounded more than the kings that had been before him.
3:31. And he was greatly perplexed in mind, and purposed to go into
Persia, and to take tributes of the countries, and to gather much
3:32. And he left Lysias, a nobleman of the blood royal to oversee the
affairs of the kingdom from the river Euphrates even to the river of
3:33. And to bring up his son, Antiochus, till he came again.
3:34. And he delivered to him half the army, and the elephants:  and he
gave him charge concerning all that he would have done, and concerning
the inhabitants of Judea, and Jerusalem.
3:35. And that he should send an army against them to destroy and root
out the strength of Israel, and the remnant of Jerusalem, and to take
away the memory of them from that place.
3:36. And that he should settle strangers, to dwell in all their
coasts, and divide their land by lot.
3:37. So the king took the half of the army that remained, and went
forth from Antioch, the chief city of his kingdom, in the hundred and
forty-seventh year:  and he passed over the river Euphrates, and went
through the higher countries.
3:38. Then Lysias chose Ptolemee, the son of Dorymenus, and Nicanor,
and Gorgias, mighty men of the king's friends.
3:39. And he sent with them forty thousand men, and seven thousand
horsemen:  to go into the land of Juda, and to destroy it, according to
the king's orders.
3:40. So they went forth with all their power, and came, and pitched
near Emmaus, in the plain country.
3:41. And the merchants of the countries heard the fame of them:  and
they took silver and gold in abundance, and servants:  and they came
into the camp, to buy the children of Israel for slaves:  and there were
joined to them the forces of Syria, and of the land of the strangers.
3:42. And Judas, and his brethren, saw that evils were multiplied, and
that the armies approached to their borders:  and they knew the orders
the king had given to destroy the people, and utterly abolish them.
3:43. And they said, every man to his neighbour:  Let us raise up the
low condition of our people, and let us fight for our people, and our
3:44. And the assembly was gathered, that they might be ready for
battle, and that they might pray, and ask mercy and compassion.
3:45. Now Jerusalem was not inhabited, but was like a desert:  there was
none of her children that went in or out:  and the sanctuary was trodden
down:  and the children of strangers were in the castle, there was the
habitation of the Gentiles:  and joy was taken away from Jacob, and the
pipe and harp ceased there.
3:46. And they assembled together, and came to Maspha, over against
Jerusalem:  for in Maspha was a place of prayer heretofore in Israel.
3:47. And they fasted that day, and put on haircloth, and put ashes
upon their heads:  and they rent their garments:
3:48. And they laid open the books of the law, in which the Gentiles
searched for the likeness of their idols:
3:49. And they brought the priestly ornaments, and the first fruits and
tithes, and stirred up the Nazarites that had fulfilled their days:
3:50. And they cried with a loud voice toward heaven, saying:  What
shall we do with these, and whither shall we carry them?
3:51. For thy holies are trodden down, and are profaned, and thy
priests are in mourning, and are brought low.
3:52. And behold the nations are come together against us, to destroy
us:  thou knowest what they intend against us.
3:53. How shall we be able to stand before their face, unless thou, O
God, help us?
3:64. Then they sounded with trumpets, and cried out with a loud voice.
3:66. And after this, Judas appointed captains over the people, over
thousands, and over hundreds, and over fifties, and over tens.
3:66. And he said to them that were building houses, or had betrothed
wives, or were planting vineyards, or were fearful, that they should
return every man to his house, according to the law.
3:67. So they removed the camp, and pitched on the south side of
3:68. And Judas said:  Gird yourselves, and be valiant men, and be ready
against the morning, that you may fight with these nations that are
assembled against us to destroy us and our sanctuary.
3:59. For it is better for us to die in battle, than to see the evils
of our nation, and of the holies:
3:60. Nevertheless, as it shall be the will of God in heaven, so be it
1 Machabees Chapter 4
Judas routs the king's army.  Gorgias flies before him.  Lysias comes
against him with a great army, but is defeated.  Judas cleanses the
temple, sets up a new altar, and fortifies the sanctuary.
4:1. Then Gorgias took five thousand men, and a thousand of the best
horsemen; and they removed out of the camp by night.
4:2. That they might come upon the camp of the Jews and strike them
suddenly:  and the men that were of the castle were their guides.
4:3. And Judas heard of it, and rose up, he and the valiant men, to
attack the king's forces that were in Emmaus.
4:4. For as yet the army was dispersed from the camp
The army was dispersed. . .That is, in different divisions, not
altogether encamped.
4:5. And Gorgias came by night into the camp of Judas, and found no
man; and he sought them in the mountains:  for he said:  These men flee
4:6. And when it was day, Judas shewed himself in the plain with three
thousand men only, who neither had armour nor swords:
Who neither had armour nor swords. . .Such as they wished for.
4:7. And they saw the camp of the Gentiles that it was strong, and the
men in breastplates, and the horsemen round about them, and these were
trained up to war.
4:8. And Judas said to the men that were with him:  Fear ye not their
multitude, neither be ye afraid of their assault.
4:9. Remember in what manner our fathers were saved in the Red Sea,
when Pharaoh pursued them with a great army.
4:10. And now let us cry to heaven, and the Lord will have mercy on us,
and will remember the covenant of our fathers, and will destroy this
army before our face this day:
4:11. And all nations shall know that there is one that redeemeth and
delivereth Israel.
4:12. And the strangers lifted up their eyes, and saw them coming
against them.
4:13. And they went out of the camp to battle, and they that were with
Judas sounded the trumpet.
4:14. And they joined battle:  and the Gentiles were routed, and fled
into the plain.
4:15. But all the hindmost of them fell by the sword and they pursued
them as far as Gezeron, and even to the plains of Idumea, and of
Azotus, and of Jamnia:  and there fell of them to the number of three
thousand men.
4:16. And Judas returned again with his army that followed him.
4:17. And he said to the people:  Be not greedy of the spoils; for there
is war before us:
4:18. And Gorgias and his army are near us in the mountain:  but stand
ye now against our enemies, and overthrow them, and you shall take the
spoils afterwards with safety.
4:19. And as Judas was speaking these words, behold part of them
appeared, looking forth from the mountain.
4:20. And Gorgias saw that his men were put to flight, and that they
had set fire to the camp:  for the smoke that was seen declared what was
4:21. And when they had seen this, they were seized with great fear,
seeing at the same time Judas and his army in the plain ready to fight.
4:22. So they all fled away into the land of the strangers.
4:23. And Judas returned to take the spoils of the camp, and they got
much gold, and silver, and blue silk, and purple of the sea, and great
4:24. And returning home, they sung a hymn, and blessed God in heaven,
because he is good, because his mercy endureth for ever.
4:25. So Israel had a great deliverance that day.
4:26. And such of the strangers as escaped, went and told Lysias all
that had happened.
4:27. And when he heard these things, he was amazed and discouraged:
because things had not succeeded in Israel according to his mind, and
as the king had commanded.
4:28. So the year following, Lysias gathered together threescore
thousand chosen men, and five thousand horsemen, that he might subdue
4:29. And they came into Judea, and pitched their tents in Bethoron,
and Judas met them with ten thousand men.
4:30. And they saw that the army was strong, and he prayed and said:
Blessed art thou, O Saviour of Israel, who didst break the violence of
the mighty by the hand of thy servant David, and didst deliver up the
camp of the strangers into the hands of Jonathan the son of Saul, and
of his armour bearer.
4:31. Shut up this army in the hands of thy people Israel, and let them
be confounded in their host and their horsemen.
4:32. Strike them with fear, and cause the boldness of their strength to
languish, and let them quake at their own destruction.
4:33. Cast them down with the sword of them that love thee:  and let all
that know thy name praise thee with hymns.
4:34. And they joined battle:  and there fell of the army of Lysias five
thousand men.
4:35. And when Lysias saw that his men were put to flight, and how bold
the Jews were, and that they were ready either to live, or to die
manfully, he went to Antioch, and chose soldiers, that they might come
again into Judea with greater numbers.
4:36. Then Judas, and his brethren said:  Behold our enemies are
discomfited:  let us go up now to cleanse the holy places, and to repair
4:37. And all the army assembled together, and they went up into Mount
4:38. And they saw the sanctuary desolate, and the altar profaned, and
the gates burnt, and shrubs growing up in the courts as in a forest, or
on the mountains, and the chambers joining to the temple thrown down.
4:39. And they rent their garments, and made great lamentation, and put
ashes on their heads:
4:40. And they fell down to the ground on their faces, and they sounded
with the trumpets of alarm, and they cried towards heaven.
4:41. Then Judas appointed men to fight against them that were in the
castle, till they had cleansed the holy places,
4:42. And he chose priests without blemish, whose will was set upon the
4:43. And they cleansed the holy places, and took away the stones that
had been defiled into an unclean place.
4:44. And he considered about the altar of holocausts that had been
profaned, what he should do with it.
4:45. And a good counsel came into their minds, to pull it down:  lest
it should be a reproach to them, because the Gentiles had defiled it;
so they threw it down.
4:46. And they laid up the stones in the mountain of the temple, in a
convenient place, till there should come a prophet, and give answer
concerning them.
4:47. Then they took whole stones, according to the law and built a new
altar, according to the former:
4:48. And they built up the holy places, and the things that were
within the temple:  and they sanctified the temple and the courts.
4:49. And they made new holy vessels, and brought in the candlestick,
and the altar of incense, and the table, into the temple.
4:50. And they put incense upon the altar, and lighted up the lamps
that were upon the candlestick, and they gave light in the temple.
4:51. And they set the loaves upon the table, and hung up the veils,
and finished all the works that they had begun to make.
4:52. And they arose before the morning on the five and twentieth day
of the ninth month, (which is the month of Casleu) in the hundred and
forty-eighth year.
4:53. And they offered sacrifice, according to the law, upon the new
altar of holocausts which they had made.
4:54. According to the time, and according to the day wherein the
heathens had defiled it, in the same was it dedicated anew with
canticles, and harps, and lutes, and cymbals.
4:55. And all the people fell upon their faces, and adored, and blessed
up to heaven, him that had prospered them.
4:56. And they kept the dedication of the altar eight days, and they
offered holocausts with joy, and sacrifices of salvation, and of
4:57. And they adorned the front of the temple with crowns of gold, and
escutcheons, and they renewed the gates, and the chambers, and hanged
doors upon them.
4:58. And there was exceeding great joy among the people, and the
reproach of the Gentiles was turned away.
4:59. And Judas, and his brethren, and all the church of Israel
decreed, that the day of the dedication of the altar should be kept in
its season from year to year for eight days, from the five and
twentieth day of the month of Casleu, with joy and gladness.
4:60. They built up also at that time Mount Sion, with high walls, and
strong towers round about, lest the Gentiles should at any time come,
and tread it down, as they did before.
4:61. And he placed a garrison there, to keep it, and he fortified it,
to secure Bethsura, that the people might have a defence against
1 Machabees Chapter 5
Judas and his brethren attack the enemies of their country, and deliver
them that were distressed.  Josephus and Azarius, attempting contrary to
order to fight against their enemies, are defeated.
5:1. Now it came to pass, when the nations round about heard that the
altar and the sanctuary were built up, as before, that they were
exceeding angry.
5:2. And they thought to destroy the generation of Jacob that were
among them, and they began to kill some of the people, and to persecute
5:3. Then Judas fought against the children of Esau in Idumea, and them
that were in Acrabathane:  because they beset the Israelites round
about, and he made a great slaughter of them.
5:4. And he remembered the malice of the children of Bean:  who were a
snare and a stumblingblock to the people, by lying in wait for them in
5:5. And they were shut up by him in towers, and he set upon them, and
devoted them to utter destruction, and burnt their towers with fire,
and all that were in them.
5:6. Then he passed over to the children of Ammon, where he found a
mighty power, and much people, and Timotheus was their captain:
5:7. And he fought many battles with them, and they were discomfited in
their sight, and he smote them:
5:8. And he took the city of Gazer and her towns, and returned into
5:9. And the Gentiles that were in Galaad, assembled themselves
together against the Israelites that were in their quarters, to destroy
them:  and they fled into the fortress of Datheman.
5:10. And they sent letters to Judas, and his brethren, saying:  The
heathens that are round about are gathered together against us to
5:11. And they are preparing to come, and to take the fortress into
which we are fled:  and Timotheus is the captain of their host.
5:12. Now therefore come, and deliver us out of their hands, for many
of us are slain.
5:13. And all our brethren that were in the places of Tubin, are
killed:  and they have carried away their wives, and their children,
captives, and taken their spoils, and they have slain there almost a
thousand men.
5:14. And while they were yet reading these letters, behold there came
other messengers out of Galilee with their garments rent, who related
according to these words:
5:15. Saying, that they of Ptolemais, and of Tyre, and of Sidon, were
assembled against them, and all Galilee is filled with strangers, in
order to consume us.
5:16. Now when Judas and the people heard these words, a great assembly
met together to consider what they should do for their brethren that
were in trouble, and were assaulted by them.
5:17. And Judas said to Simon, his brother:  Choose thee men, and go,
and deliver thy brethren in Galilee:  and I, and my brother Jonathan,
will go into the country of Galaad:
5:18. And he left Joseph, the son of Zacharias, and Azarias, captains
of the people, with the remnant of the army in Judea, to keep it:
5:19. And he commanded them, saying:  Take ye the charge of this people;
but make no war against the heathens, till we return.
5:20. Now three thousand men were allotted to Simon, to go into
Galilee:  and eight thousand to Judas, to go into the land of Galaad.
5:21. And Simon went into Galilee, and fought many battles with the
heathens:  and the heathens were discomfited before his face, and he
pursued them even to the gate of Ptolemais.
5:22. And there fell of the heathens almost three thousand men, and he
took the spoils of them.
5:23. And he took with him those that were in Galilee and in Arbatis,
with their wives, and children, and all that they had, and he brought
them into Judea with great joy.
5:24. And Judas Machabeus, and Jonathan, his brother, passed over the
Jordan, and went three days' journey through the desert.
5:25. And the Nabutheans met them, and received them in a peaceable
manner, and told them all that happened to their brethren in the land
5:26. And that many of them were shut up in Barasa, and in Bosor, and
in Alima, and in Casphor, and in Mageth, and in Carnaim; all these
strong and great cities.
5:27. Yea, and that they were kept shut up in the rest of the cities of
Galaad, and that they had appointed to bring their army on the morrow
near to these cities, and to take them, and to destroy them all in one
5:28. Then Judas and his army suddenly turned their march into the
desert, to Bosor, and took the city:  and he slew every male by the edge
of the sword, and took all their spoils, and burnt it with fire.
5:29. And they removed from thence by night, and went till they came to
the fortress.
5:30. And it came to pass that early in the morning, when they lifted
up their eyes, behold there were people without number, carrying
ladders and engines to take the fortress, and assault them.
5:31. And Judas saw that the fight was begun, and the cry of the battle
went up to heaven like a trumpet, and a great cry out of the city:
5:32. And he said to his host:  Fight ye today for your brethren.
5:33. And he came with three companies behind them, and they sounded
their trumpets, and cried out in prayer.
5:34. And the host of Timotheus understood that it was Machabeus, and
they fled away before his face and they made a great slaughter of them,
and there fell of them in that day almost eight thousand men.
5:35. And Judas turned aside to Maspha, and assaulted, and took it, and
he slew every male thereof, and took the spoils thereof, and burnt it
5:36. From thence he marched, and took Casbon, and Mageth, and Bosor,
and the rest of the cities of Galaad.
5:37. But after this Timotheus gathered another army, and camped over
against Raphon, beyond the torrent.
5:38. And Judas sent men to view the army:  and they brought him word,
saying:  All the nations, that are round about us, are assembled unto
him an army exceeding great:
5:39. And they have hired the Arabians to help them, and they have
pitched their tents beyond the torrent, ready to come to fight against
thee.  And Judas went to meet them.
5:40. And Timotheus said to the captains of his army:  When Judas and
his army come near the torrent of water, if he pass over unto us first,
we shall not be able to withstand him:  for he will certainly prevail
5:41. But if he be afraid to pass over, and camp on the other side of
the river, we will pass over to them, and shall prevail against him.
5:42. Now when Judas came near the torrent of water, he set the scribes
of the people by the torrent, and commanded them, saying:  Suffer no man
to stay behind:  but let all come to the battle.
5:43. And he passed over to them first, and all the people after him,
and all the heathens were discomfited before them, and they threw away
their weapons, and fled to the temple that was in Carnaim.
5:44. And he took that city, and the temple he burnt with fire, with
all things that were therein:  and Carnaim was subdued, and could not
stand against the face of Judas.
5:45. And Judas gathered together all the Israelites that were in the
land of Galaad, from the least even to the greatest, and their wives
and children, and an army exceeding great, to come into the land of
5:46. And they came as far as Ephron:  now this was a great city,
situate in the way, strongly fortified, and there was no means to turn
from it on the right hand or on the left, but the way was through the
midst of it.
5:47. And they that were in the city shut themselves in, and stopped up
the gates with stones:  and Judas sent to them with peaceable words,
5:48. Saying:  Let us pass through your land, to go into our own
country, and no man shall hurt you; we will only pass through on foot.
But they would not open to them.
5:49. Then Judas commanded proclamation to be made in the camp, that
they should make an assault, every man in the place where he was.
5:50. And the men of the army drew near, and he assaulted that city all
the day, and all the night; and the city was delivered into his hands:
5:51. And they slew every male with the edge of the sword, and he razed
the city, and took the spoils thereof, and passed through all the city
over them that were slain.
5:52. Then they passed over the Jordan to the great plain that is over
against Bethsan.
5:53. And Judas gathered together the hindmost, and he exhorted the
people, all the way through, till they came into the land of Juda.
5:54. And they went up to mount Sion with joy and gladness, and offered
holocausts, because not one of them was slain, till they had returned
5:55. Now in the days that Judas and Jonathan were in the land of
Galaad, and Simon his brother in Galilee, before Ptolemais,
5:56. Joseph, the son of Zacharias, and Azarias, captain of the
soldiers, heard of the good success, and the battles that were fought,
5:57. And he said:  Let us also get us a name, and let us go fight
against the Gentiles that are round about us.
5:58. And he gave charge to them that were in his army, and they went
towards Jamnia.
5:59. And Gorgias and his men went out of the city, to give them
5:60. And Joseph and Azarias were put to flight, and were pursued unto
the borders of Judea:  and there fell on that day, of the people of
Israel, about two thousand men, and there was a great overthrow of the
5:61. Because they did not hearken to Judas and his brethren, thinking
that they should do manfully.
5:62. But they were not of the seed of those men by whom salvation was
brought to Israel.
5:63. And the men of Juda were magnified exceedingly in the sight of
all Israel, and of all the nations where their name was heard.
5:64. And the people assembled to them with joyful acclamations.
5:65. Then Judas and his brethren went forth and attacked the children
of Esau, in the land towards the south, and he took Chebron and her
towns:  and he burnt the walls thereof, and the towers all round it.
5:66. And he removed his camp to go into the land of the aliens, and he
went through Samaria.
5:67. In that day some priests fell in battle, while desiring to do
manfully they went out unadvisedly to fight.
5:68. And Judas turned to Azotus, into the land of the strangers, and
he threw down their altars, and he burnt the statues of their gods with
fire:  and he took the spoils of the cities, and returned into the land
1 Machabees Chapter 6
The fruitless repentance and death of Antiochus.  His son comes against
Judas with a formidable army.  He besieges Sion:  but at last makes peace
with the Jews.
6:1. Now king Antiochus was going through the higher countries, and he
heard that the city of Elymais in Persia, was greatly renowned, and
abounding in silver and gold,
6:2. And that there was in it a temple exceeding rich; and coverings of
gold, and breastplates, and shields, which king Alexander, son of
Philip, the Macedonian, that reigned first in Greece, had left there.
6:3. So he came, and sought to take the city and to pillage it; but he
was not able, because the design was known to them that were in the
6:4. And they rose up against him in battle, and he fled away from
thence, and departed with great sadness, and returned towards
6:5. And whilst he was in Persia there came one that told him how the
armies that were in the land of Juda were put to flight:
6:6. And that Lysias went with a very great power, and was put to
flight before the face of the Jews, and that they were grown strong by
the armour, and power, and store of spoils which they had gotten out of
the camps which they had destroyed:
6:7. And that they had thrown down the abomination which he had set up
upon the altar in Jerusalem, and that they had compassed about the
sanctuary with high walls as before, and Bethsura also, his city.
6:8. And it came to pass, when the king heard these words, that he was
struck with fear, and exceedingly moved:  and he laid himself down upon
his bed, and fell sick for grief, because it had not fallen out to him
as he imagined.
6:9. And he remained there many days:  for great grief came more and
more upon him, and he made account that he should die.
6:10. And he called for all his friends, and said to them:  Sleep is
gone from my eyes, and I am fallen away, and my heart is cast down for
6:11. And I said in my heart:  Into how much tribulation am I come, and
into what floods of sorrow wherein now I am:  I that was pleasant and
beloved in my power!
6:12. But now I remember the evils that I did in Jerusalem, from whence
also I took away all the spoils of gold, and of silver, that were in
it, and I sent to destroy the inhabitants of Juda without cause.
6:13. I know, therefore, that for this cause these evils have found me:
and behold I perish with great grief in a strange land.
6:14. Then he called Philip, one of his friends, and he made him regent
over all his kingdom.
6:15. And he gave him the crown, and his robe, and his ring, that he
should go to Antiochus, his son, and should bring him up for the
6:16. So king Antiochus died there in the year one hundred and
6:17. And Lysias understood that the king was dead, and he set up
Antiochus, his son, to reign, whom he had brought up young:  and he
called his name Eupator.
6:18. Now they that were in the castle, had shut up the Israelites
round about the holy places:  and they were continually seeking their
hurt, and to strengthen the Gentiles.
6:19. And Judas purposed to destroy them:  and he called together all
the people, to besiege them.
6:20. And they came together, and besieged them in the year one hundred
and fifty, and they made battering slings and engines.
6:21. And some of the besieged got out:  and some wicked men of Israel
joined themselves unto them.
6:22. And they went to the king, and said:  How long dost thou delay to
execute judgment, and to revenge our brethren?
6:23. We determined to serve thy father, and to do according to his
orders, and obey his edicts:
6:24. And for this they of our nation are alienated from us, and have
slain as many of us as they could find, and have spoiled our
inheritances.
6:25. Neither have they put forth their hand against us only, but also
against all our borders.
6:26. And behold they have approached this day to the castle of
Jerusalem to take it, and they have fortified the strong hold of
6:27. And unless thou speedily prevent them, they will do greater
things than these, and thou shalt not be able to subdue them.
6:28. Now when the king heard this, he was angry:  and he called
together all his friends, and the captains of his army, and them that
were over the horsemen.
6:29. There came also to him from other realms, and from the islands of
the sea, hired troops.
6:30. And the number of his army was an hundred thousand footmen, and
twenty thousand horsemen, and thirty-two elephants trained to battle.
6:31. And they went through Idumea, and approached to Bethsura, and
fought many days, and they made engines:  but they sallied forth, and
burnt them with fire, and fought manfully.
But they sallied forth. . .That is, the citizens of Bethsura sallied
forth and burnt them, that is, burnt the engines of the besiegers.
6:32. And Judas departed from the castle, and removed the camp to
Bethzacharam, over against the king's camp.
6:33. And the king rose before it was light, and made his troops march
on fiercely towards the way of Bethzacharam:  and the armies made
themselves ready for the battle, and they sounded the trumpets:
6:34. And they shewed the elephants the blood of grapes, and
mulberries, to provoke them to fight.
6:35. And they distributed the beasts by the legions:  and there stood
by every elephant a thousand men in coats of mail, and with helmets of
brass on their heads:  and five hundred horsemen set in order were
chosen for every beast.
6:36. These before the time wheresoever the beast was they were there:
and whithersoever it went, they went, and they departed not from it.
These before the time. . .That is, these were ready for every occasion.
6:37. And upon the beast, there were strong wooden towers which covered
every one of them:  and engines upon them, and upon every one thirty-two
valiant men, who fought from above:  and an Indian to rule the beast.
6:38. And the rest of the horsemen he placed on this side and on that
side, at the two wings, with trumpets to stir up the army, and to
hasten them forward that stood thick together in the legions thereof.
6:39. Now when the sun shone upon the shields of gold, and of brass,
the mountains glittered therewith, and they shone like lamps of fire.
6:40. And part of the king's army was distinguished by the high
mountains, and the other part by the low places:  and they marched on
warily and orderly.
6:41. And all the inhabitants of the land were moved at the noise of
their multitude, and the marching of the company, and the rattling of
the armour, for the army was exceeding great and strong.
6:42. And Judas and his army drew near for battle:  and there fell of
the king's army six hundred men.
6:43. And Eleazar, the son of Saura, saw one of the beasts harnessed
with the king's harness:  and it was higher than the other beasts; and
it seemed to him that the king was on it:
6:44. And he exposed himself to deliver his people, and to get himself
an everlasting name.
6:45. And he ran up to it boldly in the midst of the legion, killing on
the right hand, and on the left, and they fell by him on this side and
6:46. And he went between the feet of the elephant, and put himself
under it:  and slew it, and it fell to the ground upon him, and he died
6:47. Then they seeing the strength of the king and the fierceness of
his army, turned away from them.
6:48. But the king's army went up against them to Jerusalem:  and the
king's army pitched their tents against Judea and Mount Sion.
6:49. And he made peace with them that were in Bethsura:  and they came
forth out of the city, because they had no victuals, being shut up
there, for it was the year of rest to the land.
6:50. And the king took Bethsura:  and he placed there a garrison to
6:51. And he turned his army against the sanctuary for many days:  and
he set up there battering slings, and engines, and instruments to cast
fire, and engines to cast stones and javelins, and pieces to shoot
arrows, and slings.
6:52. And they also made engines against their engines, and they fought
for many days.
6:53. But there were no victuals in the city, because it was the
seventh year:  and such as had stayed in Judea of them that came from
among the nations, had eaten the residue of all that which had been
6:54. And there remained in the holy places but a few, for the famine
had prevailed over them:  and they were dispersed every man to his own
6:55. Now Lysias heard that Philip; whom king Antiochus while he lived
had appointed to bring up his son, Antiochus, and to reign,
6:56. Was returned from Persia, and Media, with the army that went with
him and that he sought to take upon him the affairs of the kingdom:
6:57. Wherefore he made haste to go, and say to the king and to the
captains of the army:  We decay daily, and our provision of victuals is
small, and the place that we lay siege to is strong, and it lieth upon
us to take order for the affairs of the kingdom.
6:58. Now, therefore, let us come to an agreement with these men, and
make peace with them and with all their nation.
6:59. And let us covenant with them, that they may live according to
their own laws, as before.  For because of our despising their laws,
they have been provoked, and have done all these things.
6:60. And the proposal was acceptable in the sight of the king, and of
the princes:  and he sent to them to make peace:  and they accepted of
6:61. And the king and the princes swore to them:  and they came out of
the strong hold.
6:62. Then the king entered into Mount Sion, and saw the strength of
the place:  and he quickly broke the oath that he had taken, and gave
commandment to throw down the wall round about.
6:63. And he departed in haste and returned to Antioch, where he found
Philip master of the city:  and he fought against him, and took the
1 Machabees Chapter 7
Demetrius is made king, and sends Bacchides and Alcimus the priest into
Judea, and after them Nicanor, who is slain by Judas with all his army.
7:1. In the hundred and fifty-first year, Demetrius, the son of
Seleucus, departed from the city of Rome, and came up with few men into
a city of the sea coast, and reigned there.
7:2. And it came to pass as he entered into the house of the kingdom of
his fathers, that the army seized upon Antiochus, and Lysias, to bring
them unto him.
7:3. And when he knew it, he said:  Let me not see their face.
7:4. So the army slew them.  And Demetrius sat upon the throne of his
7:5. And there came to him the wicked and ungodly men of Israel:  and
Alcimus was at the head of them, who desired to be made high priest.
7:6. And they accused the people to the king, saying:  Judas and his
brethren have destroyed all thy friends, and he hath driven us out of
7:7. Now, therefore, send some men whom thou trustest, and let him go,
and see all the havoc he hath made amongst us, and in the king's lands:
and let him punish all his friends and their helpers.
7:8. Then the king chose Bacchides, one of his friends, that ruled
beyond the great river in the kingdom, and was faithful to the king:
and he sent him,
7:9. To see the havoc that Judas had made:  and the wicked Alcimus he
made high priest, and commanded him to take revenge upon the children
7:10. And they arose, and came with a great army into the land of Juda:
and they sent messengers, and spoke to Judas and his brethren with
peaceable words, deceitfully.
7:11. But they gave no heed to their words:  for they saw that they were
come with a great army.
7:12. Then there assembled to Alcimus and Bacchides a company of the
scribes, to require things that are just:
7:13. And first the Assideans, that were among the children of Israel,
and they sought peace of them.
7:14. For they said:  One that is a priest of the seed of Aaron is come,
he will not deceive us.
7:15. And he spoke to them peaceably:  and he swore to them, saying:  We
will do you no harm, nor your friends.
7:16. And they believed him.  And he took threescore of them, and slew
them in one day, according to the word that is written:
7:17. The flesh of thy saints, and the blood of them they have shed round
about Jerusalem, and there was none to bury them.
7:18. Then fear and trembling fell upon all the people:  for they said:
There is no truth, nor justice among them:  for they have broken the
covenant, and the oath which they made.
7:19. And Bacchides removed the camp from Jerusalem, and pitched in
Bethzecha:  and he sent, and took many of them that were fled away from
him, and some of the people he killed, and threw them into a great pit.
7:20. Then he committed the country to Alcimus, and left with him
troops to help him.  So Bacchides went away to the king.
7:21. But Alcimus did what he could to maintain his chief priesthood.
7:22. And they that disturbed the people resorted to him, and they got
the land of Juda into their power, and did much hurt in Israel.
7:23. And Judas saw all the evils that Alcimus, and they that were with
him, did to the children of Israel, much more than the Gentiles.
7:24. And he went out into all the coasts of Judea round about, and
took vengeance upon the men that had revolted, and they ceased to go
forth any more into the country.
7:25. And Alcimus saw that Judas and they that were with him,
prevailed:  and he knew that he could not stand against them, and he
went back to the king, and accused them of many crimes.
7:26. And the king sent Nicanor, one of his principal lords, who was a
great enemy to Israel:  and he commanded him to destroy the people.
7:27. And Nicanor came to Jerusalem with a great army, and he sent to
Judas and to his brethren deceitfully, with friendly words,
7:28. Saying:  Let there be no fighting between me and you:  I will come
with a few men, to see your faces with peace.
7:29. And he came to Judas, and they saluted one another peaceably:  and
the enemies were prepared to take away Judas by force.
7:30. And the thing was known to Judas that he was come to him with
deceit:  and he was much afraid of him, and would not see his face any
7:31. And Nicanor knew that his counsel was discovered:  and he went out
to fight against Judas, near Capharsalama.
7:32. And there fell of Nicanor's army almost five thousand men, and
they fled into the city of David.
7:33. And after this Nicanor went up into mount Sion:  and some of the
priests and the people came out to salute him peaceably, and to shew
him the holocausts that were offered for the king.
7:34. But he mocked and despised them, and abused them:  and he spoke
7:35. And swore in anger, saying:  Unless Judas and his army be
delivered into my hands, as soon as ever I return in peace, I will burn
this house.  And he went out in a great rage.
7:36. And the priests went in, and stood before the face of the altar
and the temple:  and weeping, they said:
7:37. Thou, O Lord, hast chosen this house for thy name to be called
upon therein, that it might be a house of prayer and supplication for
7:38. Be avenged of this man, and his army, and let them fall by the
sword:  remember their blasphemies, and suffer them not to continue any
7:39. Then Nicanor went out from Jerusalem, and encamped near to
Bethoron:  and an army of Syria joined him.
7:40. But Judas pitched in Adarsa with three thousand men:  and Judas
prayed, and said:
7:41. O Lord, when they that were sent by king Sennacherib blasphemed
thee, an angel went out, and slew of them a hundred and eighty-five
7:42. Even so destroy this army in our sight today and let the rest
know that he hath spoken ill against thy sanctuary:  and judge thou him
according to his wickedness.
7:43. And the armies joined battle on the thirteenth day of the month,
Adar:  and the army of Nicanor was defeated, and he himself was first
slain in the battle.
7:44. And when his army saw that Nicanor was slain they threw away
their weapons, and fled:
7:45. And they pursued after them one day's journey from Adazer, even
till ye come to Gazara, and they sounded the trumpets after them with
7:46. And they went forth out of all the towns of Judea round about,
and they pushed them with the horns, and they turned again to them, and
they were all slain with the sword, and there was not left of them so
much as one.
7:47. And they took the spoils of them for a booty, and they cut off
Nicanor's head, and his right hand, which he had proudly stretched out,
and they brought it, and hung it up over against Jerusalem.
7:48. And the people rejoiced exceedingly, and they spent that day with
7:49. And he ordained that this day should be kept every year, being
the thirteenth of the month of Adar
7:50. And the land of Juda was quiet for a short time.
1 Machabees Chapter 8
Judas hears of the great character of the Romans:  he makes a league
8:1. Now Judas heard of the fame of the Romans, that they are powerful
and strong, and willingly agree to all things that are requested of
them:  and that whosoever have come to them, they have made amity with
them, and that they are mighty in power.
8:2. And they heard of their battles, and their noble acts which they
had done in Galatia, how they had conquered them, and brought them
under tribute:
They heard, etc. . .What is here set down of the history and character
of the ancient Romans, is not an assertion, or affirmation of the
sacred writer:  but only a relation of what Judas had heard of them.
8:3. And how great things they had done in the land of Spain, and that
they had brought under their power the mines of silver and of gold that
are there, and had gotten possession of all the place by their counsel
and patience:
8:4. And had conquered places that were very far off from them, and
kings that came against them from the ends of the earth, and had
overthrown them with great slaughter:  and the rest pay them tribute
8:5. And that they had defeated in battle Philip and Perses the king of
the Ceteans, and the rest that had borne arms against them, and had
conquered them:
Ceteans. . .That is, the Macedonians.
8:6. And how Antiochus, the great king of Asia, who went to fight
against them, having a hundred and twenty elephants, with horsemen, and
chariots, and a very great army, was routed by them.
8:7. And how they took him alive, and appointed to him, that both he
and they that should reign after him, should pay a great tribute, and
that he should give hostages, and that which was agreed upon,
8:8. And the country of the Indians, and of the Medes, and of the
Lydians, some of their best provinces:  and those which they had taken
from them, they gave to king Eumenes.
Eumenes. . .King of Pergamus.
8:9. And that they who were in Greece, had a mind to go and to destroy
them:  and they had knowledge thereof,
8:10. And they sent a general against them, and fought with them, and
many of them were slain, and they carried away their wives, and their
children captives, and spoiled them, and took possession of their land,
and threw down their walls, and brought them to be their servants unto
8:11. And the other kingdoms, and islands, that at any time had
resisted them, they had destroyed and brought under their power.
8:12. But with their friends, and such as relied upon them, they kept
amity, and had conquered kingdoms that were near, and that were far
off:  for all that heard their name, were afraid of them.
8:13. That whom they had a mind to help to a kingdom, those reigned:
and whom they would, they deposed from the kingdom:  and they were
greatly exalted.
8:14. And none of all these wore a crown, or was clothed in purple, to
be magnified thereby.
8:15. And that they had made themselves a senate house, and consulted
daily three hundred and twenty men, that sat in counsel always for the
people, that they might do the things that were right:
8:16. And that they committed their government to one man every year,
to rule over all their country, and they all obey one, and there is no
envy nor jealousy amongst them.
To one man. . .There were two consuls:  but one only ruled at one time,
each in his day.--Ibid.  No envy, etc. . .So Judas had heard:  and it was
so far true, with regard to the ancient Romans, that as yet no envy or
jealousy had divided them into such open factions and civil wars, as
they afterwards experienced in the time of Marius and Sylla, etc.
8:17. So Judas chose Eupolemus, the son of John, the son of Jacob, and
Jason, the son of Eleazar, and he sent them to Rome to make a league of
amity and confederacy with them:
8:18. And that they might take off from them the yoke of the Grecians,
for they saw that they oppressed the kingdom of Israel with servitude.
8:19. And they went to Rome, a very long journey, and they entered into
the senate house, and said:
8:20. Judas Machabeus, and his brethren, and the people of the Jews,
have sent us to you to make alliance and peace with you, and that we
may be registered your confederates and friends.
8:21. And the proposal was pleasing in their sight.
8:22. And this is the copy of the writing that they wrote back again,
graven in tables of brass, and sent to Jerusalem, that it might be with
them there for a memorial of the peace, and alliance.
8:23. GOOD SUCCESS BE TO THE ROMANS, and to the people of the Jews by
sea, and by land, for ever:  and far be the sword and enemy from them.
8:24. But if there come first any war upon the Romans, or any of their
confederates, in all their dominions:
8:25. The nation of the Jews shall help them according as the time
shall direct, with all their heart:
8:26. Neither shall they give them, whilst they are fighting, or
furnish them with wheat, or arms, or money, or ships, as it hath seemed
good to the Romans:  and they shall obey their orders, without taking
any thing of them.
8:27. In like manner also if war shall come first upon the nation of
the Jews, the Romans shall help them with all their heart, according as
the time shall permit them:
8:28. And there shall not be given to them that come to their aid,
either wheat, or arms, or money, or ships, as it hath seemed good to
the Romans:  and they shall observe their orders without deceit.
8:29. According to these articles did the Romans covenant with the
people of the Jews.
8:30. And, if after this, one party or the other shall have a mind to
add to these articles, or take away any thing, they may do it at their
pleasure:  and whatsoever they shall add, or take away, shall be
8:31. Moreover, concerning the evils that Demetrius, the king, hath
done against them, we have written to him, saying:  Why hast thou made
thy yoke heavy upon our friends and allies, the Jews.
8:32. If, therefore, they come again to us complaining of thee, we will
do them justice, and will make war against thee by sea and land.
1 Machabees Chapter 9
Bacchides is sent again into Judea:  Judas fights against him with eight
hundred men and is slain.  Jonathan succeeds him and revenges the murder
of his brother John.  He fights against Bacchides.  Alcimus dies
miserably.  Bacchides besieges Bethbessen.  He is forced to raise the
siege and leave the country.
9:1. In the mean time, when Demetrius heard that Nicanor and his army
were fallen in battle, he sent again Bacchides and Alcimus into Judea;
and the right wing of his army with them.
9:2. And they took the road that leadeth to Galgal, and they camped in
Masaloth, which is in Arabella:  and they made themselves masters of it,
and slew many people.
9:3. In the first month of the hundred and fifty-second year they
brought the army to Jerusalem:
9:4. And they arose and went to Berea, with twenty thousand men, and
two thousand horsemen.
9:5. Now Judas had pitched his tents in Laisa, and three thousand
chosen men with him:
9:6. And they saw the multitude of the army that they were many, and
they were seized with great fear:  and many withdrew themselves out of
the camp, and there remained of them no more than eight hundred men.
9:7. And Judas saw that his army slipped away, and the battle pressed
upon him, and his heart was cast down:  because he had not time to
gather them together, and he was discouraged.
9:8. Then he said to them that remained:  Let us arise, and go against
our enemies, if we may be able to fight against them.
9:9. But they dissuaded him, saying:  We shall not be able, but let us
save our lives now, and return to our brethren, and then we will fight
against them:  for we are but few.
9:10. Then Judas said:  God forbid we should do this thing, and flee
away from them:  but if our time be come, let us die manfully for our
brethren, and let us not stain our glory.
9:11. And the army removed out of the camp, and they stood over against
them:  and the horsemen were divided into two troops, and the slingers,
and the archers, went before the army, and they that were in the front
were all men of valour.
9:12. And Bacchides was in the right wing, and the legion drew near on
two sides, and they sounded the trumpets:
9:13. And they also that were on Judas's side, even they also cried
out, and the earth shook at the noise of the armies:  and the battle was
fought from morning even unto the evening.
9:14. And Judas perceived that the stronger part of the army of
Bacchides was on the right side, and all the stout of heart came
together with him:
9:15. And the right wing was discomfited by them, and he pursued them
even to the mount Azotus.
9:16. And they that were in the left wing saw that the right wing was
discomfited, and they followed after Judas, and them that were with
him, at their back:
9:17. And the battle was hard fought, and there fell many wounded of
the one side and of the other.
9:18. And Judas was slain, and the rest fled away.
9:19. And Jonathan and Simon took Judas, their brother, and buried him
in the sepulchre of their fathers, in the city of Modin.
9:20. And all the people of Israel bewailed him with great lamentation,
and they mourned for him many days.
9:21. And said:  How is the mighty man fallen, that saved the people of
9:22. But the rest of the words of the wars of Judas, and of the noble
acts that he did, and of his greatness, are not written:  for they were
9:23. And it came to pass, after the death of Judas, that the wicked
began to put forth their heads in all the confines of Israel, and all
the workers of iniquity rose up.
9:24. In those days there was a very great famine, and they and all
their country yielded to Bacchides.
9:25. And Bacchides chose the wicked men, and made them lords of the
9:26. And they sought out, and made diligent search after the friends
of Judas, and brought them to Bacchides, and he took vengeance of them,
and abused them.
9:27. And there was a great tribulation in Israel, such as was not
since the day, that there was no prophet seen in Israel.
9:28. And all the friends of Judas came together, and said to Jonathan:
9:29. Since thy brother Judas died there is not a man like him to go
forth against our enemies, Bacchides, and them that are the enemies of
9:30. Now, therefore, we have chosen thee this day to be our prince,
and captain, in his stead, to fight our battles.
9:31. So Jonathan took upon him the government at that time, and rose
up in the place of Judas, his brother
9:32. And Bacchides had knowledge of it, and sought to kill him.
9:33. And Jonathan, and Simon, his brother, knew it, and all that were
with them:  and they fled into the desert of Thecua, and they pitched by
the water of the lake Asphar,
9:34. And Bacchides understood it, and he came himself, with all his
army, over the Jordan, on the sabbath day.
9:35. And Jonathan sent his brother, a captain of the people, to desire
the Nabutheans his friends, that they would lend them their equipage,
which was copious.
9:36. And the children of Jambri came forth out of Madaba, and took
John, and all that he had, and went away with them.
9:37. After this it was told Jonathan, and Simon, his brother, that the
children of Jambri made a great marriage, and were bringing the bride
out of Madaba, the daughter of one of the great princes of Chanaan,
with great pomp.
9:38. And they remembered the blood of John, their brother:  and they
went up, and hid themselves under the covert of the mountain.
9:39. And they lifted up their eyes, and saw:  and behold a tumult, and
great preparation:  and the bridegroom came forth, and his friends, and
his brethren to meet them with timbrels, and musical instruments and
many weapons.
9:40. And they rose up against them from the place where they lay in
ambush, and slew them, and there fell many wounded, and the rest fled
into the mountains, and they took all their spoils:
9:41. And the marriage was turned into mourning, and the noise of their
musical instruments into lamentation.
9:42. And they took revenge for the blood of their brother:  and they
returned to the bank of the Jordan.
9:43. And Bacchides heard it, and he came on the sabbath day even to
the bank of the Jordan, with a great power.
9:44. And Jonathan said to his company:  Let us arise, and fight against
our enemies:  for it is not now as yesterday, and the day before.
9:45. For behold the battle is before us, and the water of the Jordan
on this side and on that side, and banks, and marshes, and woods:  and
there is no place for us to turn aside.
9:46. Now, therefore, cry ye to heaven, that ye may be delivered from
the hand of your enemies.  And they joined battle.
9:47. And Jonathan stretched forth his hand to strike Bacchides, but he
turned away from him backwards.
9:48. And Jonathan, and they that were with him, leapt into the Jordan,
and swam over the Jordan to them.
9:49. And there fell of Bacchides' side that day a thousand men:  and
they returned to Jerusalem,
9:50. And they built strong cities in Judea, the fortress that was in
Jericho, and in Ammaus, and in Bethoron, and in Bethel, and Thamnata,
and Phara, and Thopo, with high walls, and gates, and bars.
9:51. And he placed garrisons in them, that they might wage war against
9:52. And he fortified the city of Bethsura, and Gazara, and the
castle, and set garrisons in them, and provisions of victuals:
9:53. And he took the sons of the chief men of the country for
hostages, and put them in the castle in Jerusalem in custody.
9:54. Now in the year one hundred and fifty-three, the second month,
Alcimus commanded the walls of the inner court of the sanctuary to be
thrown down, and the works of the prophets to be destroyed:  and he
began to destroy.
9:55. At that time Alcimus was struck:  and his works were hindered, and
his mouth was stopped, and he was taken with a palsy, so that he could no
more speak a word, nor give order concerning his house.
9:56. And Alcimus died at that time in great torment.
9:57. And Bacchides saw that Alcimus was dead:  and he returned to the
king, and the land was quiet for two years.
9:58. And all the wicked held a council, saying:  Behold Jonathan, and
they that are with him, dwell at ease and without fear:  now, therefore,
let us bring Bacchides hither, and he shall take them all in one night.
9:59. So they went, and gave him counsel.
9:60. And he arose to come with a great army:  and he sent secretly
letters to his adherents that were in Judea to seize upon Jonathan, and
them that were with him:  but they could not, for their design was known
9:61. And he apprehended of the men of the country, that were the
principal authors of the mischief, fifty men, and he slew them.
9:62. And Jonathan, and Simon, and they that were with him, retired
into Bethbessen, which is in the desert:  and he repaired the breaches
thereof, and they fortified it.
9:63. And when Bacchides knew it, he gathered together all his
multitude:  and sent word to them that were of Judea.
9:64. And he came, and camped above Bethbessen, and fought against it
many days, and made engines.
9:65. But Jonathan left his brother, Simon, in the city and went forth
into the country, and came with a number of men,
9:66. And struck Odares, and his brethren, and the children of
Phaseron, in their tents, and he began to slay, and to increase in
9:67. But Simon, and they that were with him, sallied out of the city,
and burnt the engines,
9:68. And they fought against Bacchides, and he was discomfited by
them:  and they afflicted him exceedingly, for his counsel, and his
enterprise was in vain.
9:69. And he was angry with the wicked men that had given him counsel
to come into their country, and he slew many of them:  and he purposed
to return with the rest into their country.
9:70. And Jonathan had knowledge of it, and he sent ambassadors to him
to make peace with him, and to restore to him the prisoners.
9:71. And he accepted it willingly, and did according to his words, and
swore that he would do him no harm all the days of his life.
9:72. And he restored to him the prisoners which he before had taken
out of the land of Juda:  and he returned, and went away into his own
country, and he came no more into their borders.
9:73. So the sword ceased from Israel:  and Jonathan dwelt in Machmas,
and Jonathan began there to judge the people, and he destroyed the
wicked out of Israel.
1 Machabees Chapter 10
Alexander Bales sets himself up for king:  both he and Demetrius seek to
make Jonathan their friend.  Alexander kills Demetrius in battle, and
honours Jonathan.  His victory over Apollonius.
10:1. Now in the hundred and sixtieth year, Alexander, the son of
Antiochus, surnamed the Illustrious, came up and took Ptolemais, and
they received him, and he reigned there.
10:2. And king Demetrius heard of it, and gathered together an
exceeding great army, and went forth against him to fight.
10:3. And Demetrius sent a letter to Jonathan, with peaceable words, to
magnify him.
10:4. For he said:  Let us first make a peace with him, before he make
one with Alexander against us.
10:5. For he will remember all the evils that we have done against him,
and against his brother, and against his nation.
10:6. And he gave him authority to gather together a army, and to make
arms, and that he should be his confederate:  and the hostages that were
in the castle, he commanded to be delivered to him.
10:7. And Jonathan came to Jerusalem, and read the letters in the
hearing of all the people, and of them that were in the castle.
10:8. And they were struck with great fear, because they heard that the
king had given him authority to gather together an army.
10:9. And the hostages were delivered to Jonathan, and he restored them
to their parents.
10:10. And Jonathan dwelt in Jerusalem, and began to build, and to
repair the city.
10:11. And he ordered workmen to build the walls, and mount Sion round
about with square stones for fortification:  and so they did.
10:12. Then the strangers that were in the strong holds, which
Bacchides had built, fled away.
10:13. And every man left his place, and departed into his own country:
10:14. Only in Bethsura there remained some of them, that had forsaken
the law, and the commandments of God:  for this was a place of refuge
10:15. And king Alexander heard of the promises that Demetrius had made
Jonathan:  and they told him of the battles, and the worthy acts that he
and his brethren had done, and the labours that they had endured.
10:16. And he said:  Shall we find such another man?  now, therefore, we
will make him our friend and our confederate.
10:17. So he wrote a letter, and sent it to him according to these
words, saying:
10:18. King Alexander to his brother, Jonathan, greetings.
10:19. We have heard of thee, that thou art a man of great power, and
fit to be our friend:
10:20. Now therefore, we make thee this day high priest of thy nation,
and that thou be called the king's friend, (and he sent him a purple
robe, and a crown of gold) and that thou be of one mind with us in our
affairs, and keep friendship with us.
10:21. Then Jonathan put on the holy vestment in the seventh month, in
the year one hundred and threescore, at the feast day of the
tabernacles:  and he gathered together an army, and made a great number
10:22. And Demetrius heard these words, and was exceeding sorry, and
10:23. What is this that we have done, that Alexander hath prevented us
to gain the friendship of the Jews to strengthen himself?
10:24. I also will write to them words of request, and offer dignities,
and gifts:  that they may be with me to aid me.
10:25. And he wrote to them in these words:  King Demetrius to the
nation of the Jews, greeting.
10:26. Whereas you have kept covenant with us, and have continued in
our friendship, and have not joined with our enemies, we have heard of
it, and are glad.
10:27. Wherefore now continue still to keep fidelity towards us, and we
will reward you with good things, for what you have done in our behalf.
10:28. And we will remit to you many charges, and will give you gifts.
10:29. And now I free you, and all the Jews, from tributes, and I
release you from the customs of salt, and remit the crowns, and the
thirds of the seed:
10:30. And the half of the fruit of trees, which is my share, I leave
to you from this day forward, so that it shall not be taken of the land
of Juda, and of the three cities that are added thereto out of Samaria
and Galilee, from this day forth, and for ever:
10:31. And let Jerusalem be holy and free, with the borders thereof:
and let the tenths, and tributes be for itself.
10:32. I yield up also the power of the castle that is in Jerusalem,
and I give it to the high priest, to place therein such men as he shall
choose, to keep it.
10:33. And every soul of the Jews that hath been carried captive from
the land of Juda in all my kingdom, I set at liberty freely, that all
be discharged from tributes, even of their cattle.
10:34. And I will that all the feasts, and the sabbaths, and the new
moons, and the days appointed, and three days before the solemn day,
and three days after the solemn day, be all days of immunity and
freedom, for all the Jews that are in my kingdom:
10:35. And no man shall have power to do any thing against them, or to
molest any of them, in any cause.
10:36. And let there be enrolled in the king's army to the number of
thirty thousand of the Jews:  and allowance shall be made them, as is
due to all the king's forces and certain of them shall be appointed to
be in the fortresses of the great king:
10:37. And some of them shall be set over the affairs of the kingdom,
that are of trust, and let the governors be taken from among
themselves, and let them walk in their own laws, as the king hath
commanded in the land of Juda.
10:38. And the three cities that are added to Judea, out of the country
of Samaria, let them be accounted with Judea:  that they may be under
one, and obey no other authority but that of the high priest:
10:39. Ptolemais and the confines thereof, I give as a free gift to the
holy places that are in Jerusalem, for the necessary charges of the
holy things.
10:40. And I give every year fifteen thousand sickles of silver out of
the king's accounts, of what belongs to me:
10:41. And all that is above, which they that were over the affairs the
years before, had not paid, from this time they shall give it to the
works of the house.
10:42. Moreover, the five thousand sickles of silver, which they
received from the account of the holy places, every year, shall also
belong to the priests that execute the ministry.
10:43. And whosoever shall flee into the temple that is in Jerusalem,
and in all the borders thereof, being indebted to the king for any
matter, let them be set at liberty, and all that they have in my
kingdom, let them have it free.
10:44. For the building also, or repairing the works of the holy
places, the charges shall be given out of the king's revenues:
10:45. For the building also of the walls of Jerusalem, and the
fortifying thereof round about, the charges shall be given out of the
king's account, as also for the building of the walls in Judea.
10:46. Now when Jonathan and the people heard these words, they gave no
credit to them, nor received them because they remembered the great
evil that he had done in Israel, for he had afflicted them exceedingly.
10:47. And their inclinations were towards Alexander, because he had
been the chief promoter of peace in their regard, and him they always
10:48. And king Alexander gathered together a great army, and moved his
camp near to Demetrius.
10:49. And the two kings joined battle, and the army of Demetrius fled
away, and Alexander pursued after him, and pressed them close.
10:50. And the battle was hard fought, till the sun went down:  and
Demetrius was slain that day.
10:51. And Alexander sent ambassadors to Ptolemee king of Egypt, with
words to this effect, saying:
Ptolemee. . .Surnamed Philometer.
10:52. Forasmuch as I am returned into my kingdom and am set in the
throne of my ancestors, and have gotten the dominion, and have
overthrown Demetrius and possessed our country,
10:53. And have joined battle with him, and both he and his army have
been destroyed by us, and we are placed in the throne of his kingdom:
10:54. Now, therefore, let us make friendship one with another:  and
give me now thy daughter to wife, and I will be thy son in law, and I
will give both thee and her gifts worthy of thee.
10:55. And king Ptolomee answered, saying:  Happy is the day wherein
thou didst return to the land of thy fathers, and sattest in the throne
of their kingdom.
10:56. And now I will do to thee as thou hast written but meet me at
Ptolemais, that we may see one another, and I may give her to thee as
thou hast said.
10:57. So Ptolemee went out of Egypt, with Cleopatra his daughter, and
he came to Ptolemais, in the hundred and sixty-second year.
10:58. And king Alexander met him, and he gave him his daughter,
Cleopatra:  and he celebrated her marriage at Ptolemais with great
glory, after the manner of kings.
10:59. And king Alexander wrote to Jonathan, that he should come and
10:60. And he went honourably to Ptolemais, and he met there the two
kings, and he gave them much silver, and gold, and presents:  and he
found favour in their sight.
10:61. And some pestilent men of Israel, men of a wicked life,
assembled themselves against him, to accuse him:  and the king gave no
heed to them.
10:62. And he commanded that Jonathan's garments should be taken off,
and that he should be clothed with purple:  and they did so.  And the
king made him sit by himself.
10:63. And he said to his princes:  Go out with him into the midst of
the city, and make proclamation, that no man complain against him of
any matter, and that no man trouble him for any manner of cause.
10:64. So when his accusers saw his glory proclaimed, and him clothed
with purple, they all fled away.
10:65. And the king magnified him, and enrolled him amongst his chief
friends, and made him governor, and partaker of his dominion.
10:66. And Jonathan returned into Jerusalem with peace and joy.
10:67. In the year one hundred and sixty-five, Demetrius, the son of
Demetrius, came from Crete into the land of his fathers.
10:68. And king Alexander heard of it, and was much troubled, and
returned to Antioch.
10:69. And king Demetrius made Apollonius his general, who was governor
of Celesyria:  and he gathered together a great army, and came to
Jamnia:  and he sent to Jonathan, the high priest,
10:70. Saying:  Thou alone standest against us, and I am laughed at and
reproached, because thou shewest thy power against us in the mountains.
10:71. Now, therefore, if thou trustest in thy forces, come down to us
into the plain, and there let us try one another:  for with me is the
strength of war.
10:72. Ask, and learn who I am, and the rest that help me, who also say
that your foot cannot stand before our face, for thy fathers have twice
been put to flight in their own land:
10:73. And now how wilt thou be able to abide the horsemen, and so
great an army in the plain, where there is no stone, nor rock, nor
place to flee to?
10:74. Now when Jonathan heard the words of Apollonius, he was moved in
his mind:  and he chose ten thousand men, and went out of Jerusalem, and
Simon, his brother, met him to help him.
10:75. And they pitched their tents near Joppe, but they shut him out
of the city:  because a garrison of Apollonius was in Joppe, and he laid
siege to it.
10:76. And they that were in the city being affrighted, opened the
gates to him:  so Jonathan took Joppe.
10:77. And Apollonius heard of it, and he took three thousand horsemen,
and a great army.
10:78. And he went to Azotus, as one that was making a journey, and
immediately he went forth into the plain:  because he had a great number
of horsemen, and he trusted in them.  And Jonathan followed after him to
Azotus, and they joined battle.
10:79. And Apollonius left privately in the camp a thousand horsemen
behind them.
10:80. And Jonathan knew that there was an ambush behind him, and they
surrounded his army, and cast darts at the people from morning till
10:81. But the people stood still, as Jonathan had commanded them:  and
so their horses were fatigued.
10:82. Then Simon drew forth his army, and attacked the legion:  for the
horsemen were wearied:  and they were discomfited by him, and fled.
10:83. And they that were scattered about the plain fled into Azotus,
and went into Bethdagon, their idol's temple, there to save themselves.
10:84. But Jonathan set fire to Azotus, and the cities that were round
about it, and took the spoils of them and the temple of Dagon:  and all
them that were fled into it, he burnt with fire.
10:85. So they that were slain by the sword, with them that were burnt,
were almost eight thousand men.
10:86. And Jonathan, removed his army from thence and camped against
Ascalon:  and they went out of the city to meet him with great honour.
10:87. And Jonathan returned into Jerusalem with his people, having
many spoils.
10:88. And it came to pass, when Alexander, the king heard these words,
that he honoured Jonathan yet more.
10:89. And he sent him a buckle of gold, as the custom is, to be given
to such as are of the royal blood.  And he gave him Accaron, and all the
borders thereof, in possession.
1 Machabees Chapter 11
Ptolemee invades the kingdom of Alexander:  the latter is slain:  and the
former dies soon after.  Demetrius honours Jonathan, and is rescued by
the Jews from his own subjects in Antioch.  Antiochus the younger
favours Jonathan.  His exploits in divers places.
11:1. And the king of Egypt gathered together an army, like the sand
that lieth upon the sea shore, and many ships:  and he sought to get the
kingdom of Alexander by deceit, and join it to his own kingdom.
11:2. And he went out into Syria with peaceable words and they opened
to him the cities, and met him:  for king Alexander had ordered them to
go forth to meet him, because he was his father in law.
11:3. Now when Ptolemee entered into the cities, he put garrisons of
soldiers in every city.
11:4. And when he came near to Azotns, they shewed him the temple of
Dagon that was burnt with fire, and Azotus, and the suburbs thereof,
that were destroyed, and the bodies that were cast abroad, and the
graves of them that were slain in the battle, which they had made near
11:5. And they told the king that Jonathan had done these things, to
make him odious:  but the king held his peace.
11:6. And Jonathan came to meet the king at Joppe with glory, and they
saluted one another, and they lodged there.
11:7. And Jonathan went with the king as far as the river, called
Eleutherus:  and he returned into Jerusalem.
11:8. And king Ptolemee got the dominion of the cities by the sea side,
even to Seleucia, and he devised evil designs against Alexander.
11:9. And he sent ambassadors to Demetrius, saying:  Come, let us make a
league between us, and I will give thee my daughter whom Alexander
hath, and thou shalt reign in the kingdom of thy father.
11:10. For I repent that I have given him my daughter:  for he hath
sought to kill me.
11:11. And he slandered him, because he coveted his kingdom,
11:12. And he took away his daughter, and gave her to Demetrius, and
alienated himself from Alexander, and his enmities were made manifest.
11:13. And Ptolemee entered into Antioch, and set two crowns upon his
head, that of Egypt, and that of Asia.
11:14. Now king Alexander was in Cilicia at that time:  because they
that were in those places had rebelled.
11:15. And when Alexander heard of it, he came to give him battle:  and
king Ptolemee brought forth his army, and met him with a strong power,
and put him to flight.
11:16. And Alexander fled into Arabia, there to be protected:  and king
Ptolemee was exalted.
11:17. And Zabdiel the Arabian took off Alexander's head, and sent it
to Ptolemee.
11:18. And king Ptolemee died the third day after:  and they that were
in the strong holds were destroyed by them that were within the camp.
11:19. And Demetrius reigned in the hundred and sixty-seventh year.
11:20. In those days Jonathan gathered together them that were in
Judea, to take the castle that was in Jerusalem:  and they made many
engines of war against it.
11:21. Then some wicked men that hated their own nation, went away to
king Demetrius, and told him that Jonathan was besieging the castle.
11:22. And when he heard it, he was angry:  and forthwith he came to
Ptolemais, and wrote to Jonathan that he should not besiege the castle,
but should come to him in haste, and speak to him.
11:23. But when Jonathan heard this, he bade them besiege it still:  and
he chose some of the ancients of Israel, and of the priests, and put
himself in danger
11:24. And he took gold, and silver, and raiment, and many other
presents, and went to the king to Ptolemais and he found favour in his
11:25. And certain wicked men of his nation made complaints against
11:26. And the king treated him as his predecessors had done before:
and he exalted him in the sight of all his friends.
11:27. And he confirmed him in the high priesthood and all the honours
he had before, and he made him the chief of his friends.
11:28. And Jonathan requested of the king that he would make Judea free
from tribute, and the three governments, and Samaria, and the confines
thereof:  and he promised him three hundred talents.
11:29. And the king consented:  and he wrote letters to Jonathan of all
these things, to this effect.
11:30. King Demetrius to his brother, Jonathan, and to the nation of
the Jews, greeting.
11:31. We send you here a copy of the letter which we have written to
Lasthenes, our parent, concerning you, that you might know it.
11:32. King Demetrius to Lasthenes, his parent, greetings.
11:33. We have determined to do good to the nation of the Jews, who are
our friends, and keep the things that are just with us, for their good
will which they bear towards us.
11:34. We have ratified, therefore, unto them all the borders of Judea,
and the three cities, Apherema, Lydda, and Ramatha, which are added to
Judea, out of Samaria, and all their confines, to be set apart to all
them that sacrifice in Jerusalem, instead of the payments which the
king received of them every year, and for the fruits of the land, and
of the trees.
Apherema. . .is found only in the Greek version.
11:35. And as for other things that belonged to us of the tithes, and
of the tributes, from this time we discharge them of them:  the saltpans
also, and the crowns that were presented to us.
11:36. We give all to them, and nothing hereof shall be revoked from
this time forth and for ever.
11:37. Now, therefore, see that thou make a copy of these things, and
let it be given to Jonathan, and set upon the holy mountain, in a
conspicuous place.
11:38. And king Demetrius, seeing that the land was quiet before him,
and nothing resisted him, sent away all his forces, every man to his
own place, except the foreign army, which he had drawn together from
the islands of the nations:  so all the troops of his fathers hated him.
11:39. Now there was one Tryphon who had been of Alexander's party
before:  who seeing that all the army murmured against Demetrius, went
to Emalchuel, the Arabian, who brought up Antiochus, the son of
11:40. And he pressed him much to deliver him to him, that he might be
king in his father's place:  and he told him all that Demetrius had
done, and how his soldiers hated him.  And he remained there many days.
11:41. And Jonathan sent to king Demetrius, desiring that he would cast
out them that were in the castle in Jerusalem, and those that were in
the strong holds:  because they fought against Israel.
11:42. And Demetrius sent to Jonathan, saying:  I will not only do this
for thee, and for thy people, but I will greatly honour thee, and thy
nation, when opportunity shall serve.
11:43. Now, therefore, thou shalt do well if thou send me men to help
me:  for all my army is gone from me.
11:44. And Jonathan sent him three thousand valiant men to Antioch:  and
they came to the king, and the king was very glad of their coming.
11:45. And they that were of the city assembled themselves together, to
the number of a hundred and twenty thousand men, and would have killed
11:46. And the king fled into the palace:  and they of the city kept the
passages of the city, and began to fight.
11:47. And the king called the Jews to his assistance:  and they came to
him all at once, and they all dispersed themselves through the city.
11:48. And they slew in that day a hundred thousand men, and they set
fire to the city, and got many spoils that day, and delivered the king.
11:49. And they that were of the city saw that the Jews had got the
city as they would:  and they were discouraged in their mind, and cried
to the king, making supplication, and saying
1:50. Grant us peace, and let the Jews cease from assaulting us, and
11:51. And they threw down their arms, and made peace, and the Jews
were glorified in the sight of the king, and in the sight of all that
were in his realm, and were renowned throughout the kingdom, and
returned to Jerusalem with many spoils.
11:52. So king Demetrius sat in the throne of his kingdom:  and the land
was quiet before him.
11:53. And he falsified all whatsoever he had said, and alienated
himself from Jonathan, and did not reward him according to the benefits
he had received from him, but gave him great trouble.
11:54. And after this Tryphon returned, and with him Antiochus, the
young boy, who was made king, and put on the diadem.
11:55. And there assembled unto him all the hands which Demetrius had
sent away, and they fought against Demetrius who turned his back and
11:56. And Tryphon took the elephants, and made himself master of
11:57. And young Antiochus wrote to Jonathan, saying:  I confirm thee in
the high priesthood, and I appoint thee ruler over the four cities, and
to be one of the king's friends.
11:58. And he sent him vessels of gold for his service, and he gave him
leave to drink in gold, and to be clothed in purple, and to wear a
golden buckle:
11:59. And he made his brother, Simon, governor, from the borders of
Tyre even to the confines of Egypt.
11:60. Then Jonathan went forth, and passed through the cities beyond
the river, and all the forces of Syria gathered themselves to him to
help him, and he came to Ascalon, and they met him honourably out of
11:61. And he went from thence to Gaza:  and they that were in Gaza shut
him out:  and he besieged it, and burnt all the suburbs round about, and
took the spoils.
11:62. And the men of Gaza made supplication to Jonathan, and he gave
them the right hand:  and he took their sons for hostages, and sent them
to Jerusalem:  and he went through the country, as far as Damascus.
11:63. And Jonathan heard that the generals of Demetrius were come
treacherously to Cades, which is in Galilee, with a great army,
purposing to remove him from the affairs of the kingdom.
11:64. And he went against them:  but left his brother, Simon, in the
11:65. And Simon encamped against Bethsura, and assaulted it many days,
and shut them up.
11:66. And they desired him to make peace, and he granted it them:  and
he cast them out from thence, and took the city, and placed a garrison
11:67. And Jonathan and his army encamped by the water of Genesar, and
before it was light they were ready in the plain of Asor.
11:68. And behold the army of the strangers met him in the plain, and
they laid an ambush for him in the mountains:  but he went out against
11:69. And they that lay in ambush rose out of their places, and joined
11:70. And all that were on Jonathan's side fled, and none was left of
them, but Mathathias, the son of Absalom, and Judas, the son of Calphi,
chief captain of the army.
11:71. And Jonathan rent his garments, and cast earth upon his head,
11:72. And Jonathan turned again to them to battle, and he put them to
flight, and they fought.
11:73. And they of his part that fled saw this, and they turned again
to him, and they all with him pursued the enemies, even to Cades, to
their own camp, and they came even thither.
11:74. And there fell of the aliens in that day three thousand men:  and
Jonathan returned to Jerusalem.
1 Machabees Chapter 12
Jonathan renews his league with the Romans and Lacedemonians.  The
forces of Demetrius flee away from him.  He is deceived and made
prisoner by Tryphon.
12:1. And Jonathan saw that the time served him, and he chose certain
men, and sent them to Rome, to confirm and to renew the amity with
12:2. And he sent letters to the Spartans, and to other places,
according to the same form.
12:3. And they went to Rome, and entered into the senate house, and
said:  Jonathan, the high priest, and the nation of the Jews, have sent
us to renew the amity, and alliance, as it was before.
12:4. And they gave them letters to their governors in every place, to
conduct them into the land of Juda with peace.
12:5. And this is a copy of the letters which Jonathan wrote to the
12:6. Jonathan, the high priest, and the ancients of the nation, and
the priests, and the rest of the people of the Jews, to the Spartans,
their brethren, greeting.
12:7. There were letters sent long ago to Onias the high priest, from
Arius, who reigned then among you to signify that you are our brethren,
as the copy here underwritten doth specify.
12:8. And Onias received the ambassador with honour and received the
letters, wherein there was mention made of the alliance, and amity.
12:9. We, though we needed none of these things having for our comfort
the holy books that are in our hands,
12:10. Chose rather to send to you to renew the brotherhood and
friendship, lest we should become stranger to you altogether:  for there
is a long time passed since you sent to us.
12:11. We, therefore, at all times without ceasing, both in our
festivals, and other days wherein it is convenient, remember you in the
sacrifices that we offer, and in our observances, as it is meet and
becoming to remember brethren.
12:12. And we rejoice at your glory.
12:13. But we have had many troubles and wars on every side; and the
kings that are round about us have fought against us.
12:14. But we would not be troublesome to you, nor to the rest of our
allies and friends, in these wars.
12:15. For we have had help from heaven, and we have been delivered,
and our enemies are humbled.
12:16. We have chosen, therefore, Numenius the son of Antiochus, and
Antipater, the son of Jason, and have sent them to the Romans, to renew
with them the former amity and alliance.
12:17. And we have commanded them to go also to you, and salute you,
and to deliver you our letters, concerning the renewing of our
brotherhood.
12:18. And now you shall do well to give us an answer hereto.
12:19. And this is the copy of the letter which he had sent to Onias:
12:20. Arius, king of the Spartans, to Onias, the high priest,
12:21. It is found in writing concerning the Spartans, and the Jews,
that they are brethren, and that they are of the stock of Abraham.
12:22. And now since this is come to our knowledge, you do well to
write to us of your prosperity.
12:23. And we also have written back to you, That our cattle, and our
possessions, are yours:  and yours, ours.  We, therefore, have commanded
that these things should be told you.
12:24. Now Jonathan heard that the generals of Demetrius were come
again with a greater army than before to fight against him.
12:25. So he went out from Jerusalem, and met them in the land of
Amath:  for he gave them no time to enter into his country.
12:26. And he sent spies into their camp, and they came back, and
brought him word that they designed to come upon them in the night.
12:27. And when the sun was set, Jonathan commanded his men to watch,
and to be in arms all night long ready to fight, and he set sentinels
round about the camp.
12:28. And the enemies heard that Jonathan and his men were ready for
battle:  and they were struck with fear and dread in their heart:  and
they kindled fires in their camp.
12:29. But Jonathan, and they that were with him, knew it not till the
morning:  for they saw the lights burning.
12:30. And Jonathan pursued after them, but overtook them not:  for they
had passed the river Eleutherus.
12:31. And Jonathan turned upon the Arabians, that are called
Zabadeans:  and he defeated them, and took the spoils of them.
12:32. And he went forward, and came to Damascus, and passed through
all that country.
12:33. Simon also went forth, and came as far as Ascalon, and the
neighbouring fortresses, and he turned aside to Joppe, and took
possession of it,
12:34. (For he heard that they designed to deliver the hold to them
that took part with Demetrius) and he put a garrison there to keep it.
12:35. And Jonathan came back, and called together the ancients of the
people; and he took a resolution with them to build fortresses in
12:36. And to build up walls in Jerusalem, and raise a mount between
the castle and the city, to separate it from the city, that so it might
have no communication, and that they might neither buy nor sell.
12:37. And they came together to build up the city:  for the wall that
was upon the brook, towards the east, was broken down, and he repaired
that which is called Caphetetha:
12:38. And Simon built Adiada in Sephela, and fortified it, and set up
gates and bars.
12:39. Now when Tryphon had conceived a design to make himself king of
Asia and to take the crown, and to stretch out his hand against king
12:40. Fearing lest Jonathan would not suffer him, but would fight
against him:  he sought to seize upon him, and to kill him.  So he rose
up and came to Bethsan.
12:41. And Jonathan went out to meet him with forty thousand men chosen
for battle, and came to Bethsan.
12:42. Now when Tryphon saw that Jonathan came with a great army, he
durst not stretch forth his hand against him.
12:43. But received him with honour, and commended him to all his
friends, and gave him presents:  and he commanded his troops to obey
him, as himself.
12:44. And he said to Jonathan:  Why hast thou troubled all the people,
whereas we have no war?
12:45. Now, therefore, send them back to their own houses:  and choose
thee a few men that may be with thee, and come with me to Ptolemais,
and I will deliver it to thee, and the rest of the strong holds, and
the army, and all that have any charge, and I will return and go away:
for this is the cause of my coming.
12:46. And Jonathan believed him, and did as he said:  and sent away his
army, and they departed into the land of Juda:
12:47. But he kept with him three thousand men:  of whom he sent two
thousand into Galilee, and one thousand went with him.
12:48. Now as soon as Jonathan entered into Ptolemais, they of
Ptolemais shut the gates of the city, and took him:  and all them that
came in with him they slew with the sword.
12:49. Then Tryphon sent an army and horsemen into Galilee, and into
the great plain, to destroy all Jonathan's company.
12:50. But they, when they understood that Jonathan, and all that were
with him, were taken and slain, encouraged one another, and went out
ready for battle.
12:51. Then they that had come after them, seeing that they stood for
their lives, returned back.
12:52. Whereupon they all came peaceably into the land of Juda and they
bewailed Jonathan, and them that had been with him, exceedingly:  and
Israel mourned with great lamentation.
12:53. Then all the heathens that were round about them, sought to
destroy them.  For they said:
12:54. They have no prince, nor any to help them:  now therefore, let us
make war upon them, and take away the memory of them from amongst men.
1 Machabees Chapter 13
Simon is made captain general in the room of his brother.  Jonathan is
slain by Tryphon.  Simon is favoured by Demetrius:  he taketh Gaza, and
the castle of Jerusalem.
13:1. Now Simon heard that Tryphon was gathering together a very great
army to invade the land of Juda, and to destroy it.
13:2. And seeing that the people was in dread and in fear, he went up
to Jerusalem, and assembled the people,
13:3. And exhorted them, saying:  You know what great battles I and my
brethren, and the house of my father, have fought for the laws, and the
sanctuary, and the distresses that we have seen:
13:4. By reason whereof all my brethren have lost their lives for
Israel's sake, and I am left alone.
13:5. And now far be it from me to spare my life in any time of
trouble:  for I am not better than my brethren.
13:6. I will avenge then my nation and the sanctuary, and our children,
and wives:  for all the heathens are gathered together to destroy us out
of mere malice.
13:7. And the spirit of the people was enkindled as soon as they heard
these words:
13:8. And they answered with a loud voice, saying:  Thou art our leader
in the place of Judas, and Jonathan, thy brother:
13:9. Fight thou our battles, and we will do whatsoever thou shalt say
13:10. So gathering together all the men of war, he made haste to
finish all the walls of Jerusalem, and he fortified it round about.
13:11. And he sent Jonathan, the son of Absalom, and with him a new
army, into Joppe, and he cast out them that were in it, and himself
remained there.
13:12. And Tryphon removed from Ptolemais with a great army, to invade
the land of Juda, and Jonathan was with him in custody.
13:13. But Simon pitched in Addus, over against the plain.
13:14. And when Tryphon understood that Simon was risen up in the place
of his brother, Jonathan, and that he meant to join battle with him, he
sent messengers to him,
13:15. Saying:  We have detained thy brother, Jonathan, for the money
that he owed in the king's account, by reason of the affairs which he
had the management of.
13:16. But now send a hundred talents of silver, and his two sons for
hostages, that when he is set at liberty he may not revolt from us, and
we will release him.
13:17. Now Simon knew that he spoke deceitfully to him; nevertheless,
he ordered the money and the children to be sent, lest he should bring
upon himself a great hatred of the people of Israel, who might have
13:18. Because he sent not the money and the children therefore is he
13:19. So he sent the children and the hundred talents and he lied, and
did not let Jonathan go.
13:20. And after this, Tryphon entered within the country, to destroy
it:  and they went about by the way that leadeth to Ador:  and Simon and
his army marched to every place whithersoever they went.
Simon and his army marched to every place whithersoever they
went. . .That is, whithersoever Tryphon and his horsemen went in order
to oppose them.
13:21. And they that were in the castle, sent messengers to Tryphon,
that he should make haste to come through the desert, and send them
13:22. And Tryphon made ready all his horsemen to come that night; but
there fell a very great snow, and he came not into the country of
13:23. And when he approached to Bascama, he slew Jonathan and his sons
13:24. And Tryphon returned, and went into his own country.
13:25. And Simon sent, and took the bones of Jonathan, his brother, and
buried them in Modin, the city of his fathers.
13:26. And all Israel bewailed him with great lamentation:  and they
mourned for him many days.
13:27. And Simon built over the sepulchre of his father and of his
brethren, a building lofty to the sight, of polished stone, behind and
13:28. And he set up seven pyramids, one against another, for his
father, and his mother, and his four brethren:
13:29. And round about these he set great pillars; and upon the
pillars, arms, for a perpetual memory; and by the arms, ships carved,
which might be seen by all that sailed on the sea.
13:30. This is the sepulchre that he made in Modin, even unto this day.
13:31. But Tryphon, when he was upon a journey with the young king,
Antiochus, treacherously slew him.
13:32. And he reigned in his place, and put on the crown of Asia:  and
brought great evils upon the land.
13:33. And Simon built up the strong holds of Judea, fortifying them
with high towers, and great walls, and gates and bars:  and he stored up
victuals in the fortresses.
13:34. And Simon chose men, and sent to king Demetrius, to the end that
he should grant an immunity to the land; for all that Tryphon did, was
13:35. And king Demetrius, in answer to this request, wrote a letter in
this manner:
13:36. King Demetrius to Simon, the high priest, and friend of kings,
and to the ancients, and to the nation of the Jews, greeting:
13:37. The golden crown, and the palm, which you sent, we have
received:  and we are ready to make a firm peace with you, and to write
to the king's chief officers to release you the things that we have
13:38. For all that we have decreed in your favour shall stand in
force.  The strong holds that you have built, shall be your own.
13:39. And as for any oversight or fault committed unto this day, we
forgive it:  and the crown which you owed:  and if any other thing were
taxed in Jerusalem, now let it not be taxed.
13:40. And if any of you be fit to be enrolled among ours, let them be
enrolled, and let there be peace between us.
13:41. In the year one hundred and seventy, the yoke of the Gentiles
was taken off from Israel.
13:42. And the people of Israel began to write in the instruments, and
public records, The first year under Simon, the high priest, the great
captain, and prince of the Jews.
13:43. In those days Simon besieged Gaza, and camped round about it,
and he made engines, and set them to the city, and he struck one tower,
and took it.
13:44. And they that were within the engine leapt into the city:  and
there was a great uproar in the city.
13:45. And they that were in the city went up, with their wives and
children, upon the wall, with their garments rent, and they cried with
a loud voice, beseeching Simon to grant them peace.
13:46. And they said:  Deal not with us according to our evil deeds, but
according to thy mercy.
13:47. And Simon being moved, did not destroy them but yet he cast them
out of the city, and cleansed the houses wherein there had been idols,
and then he entered into it with hymns, blessing the Lord:
13:48. And having cast out of it all uncleanness, he placed in it men
that should observe the law:  and he fortified it, and made it his
13:49. But they that were in the castle of Jerusalem were hindered from
going out and coming into the country, and from buying and selling:  and
they were straitened with hunger, and many of them perished through
13:50. And they cried to Simon for peace, and he granted it to them:
and he cast them out from thence and cleansed the castle from
uncleannesses.
13:51. And they entered into it the three and twentieth day of the
second month, in the year one hundred and seventy-one, with
thanksgiving, and branches of palm trees, and harps, and cymbals, and
psalteries, and hymns, and canticles, because the great enemy was
destroyed out of Israel.
13:52. And he ordained that these days should be kept every year with
13:53. And he fortified the mountain of the temple that was near the
castle, and he dwelt there himself, and they that were with him.
13:54. And Simon saw that John, his son, was a valiant man for war:  and
he made him captain of all the forces:  and he dwelt in Gazara.
1 Machabees Chapter 14
Demetrius is taken by the king of Persia.  Judea flourishes under the
government of Simon.
14:1. In the year one hundred and seventy-two king Demetrius assembled
his army, and went into Media to get him succours to fight against
14:2. And Arsaces, the king of Persia and Media, heard that Demetrius
was entered within his borders, and he sent one of his princes to take
him alive, and bring him to him.
14:3. And he went, and defeated the army of Demetrius:  and took him,
and brought him to Arsaces, and he put him into custody.
14:4. And all the land of Juda was at rest all the days of Simon, and
he sought the good of his nation:  and his power, and his glory pleased
them well all his days.
14:5. And with all his glory he took Joppe for a haven, and made an
entrance to the isles of the sea.
14:6. And he enlarged the bounds of his nation, and made himself master
of the country.
14:7. And he gathered together a great number of captives, and had the
dominion of Gazara, and of Bethsura, and of the castle:  and took away
all uncleanness out of it, and there was none that resisted him.
14:8. And every man tilled his land with peace, and the land of Juda
yielded her increase, and the trees of the fields their fruit.
14:9. The ancient men sat all in the streets, and treated together of
the good things of the land, and the young men put on them glory, and
the robes of war.
14:10. And he provided victuals for the cities, and he appointed that
they should be furnished with ammunition, so that the fame of his glory
was renowned even to the end of the earth.
14:11. He made peace in the land, and Israel rejoiced with great joy.
14:12. And every man sat under his vine, and under his fig tree:  and
there was none to make them afraid.
14:13. There was none left in the land to fight against them:  kings
were discomfited in those days.
14:14. And he strengthened all those of his people that were brought
low, and he sought the law, and took away every unjust and wicked man.
14:15. He glorified the sanctuary, and multiplied the vessels of the
holy places.
14:16. And it was heard at Rome, and as far as Sparta, that Jonathan
was dead:  and they were very sorry.
14:17. But when they heard that Simon, his brother, was made high
priest in his place, and was possessed of all the country, and the
cities therein:
14:18. They wrote to him in tables of brass, to renew the friendship
and alliance which they had made with Judas and with Jonathan, his
14:19. And they were read before the assembly in Jerusalem.  And this is
the copy of the letters that the Spartans sent.
14:20. The princes and the cities of the Spartans, to Simon, the high
priest, and to the ancients, and the priests, and the rest of the
people of the Jews, their brethren, greeting.
14:21. The ambassadors that were sent to our people, have told us of
your glory, and honour, and joy:  and we rejoiced at their coming.
14:22. And we registered what was said by them in the councils of the
people, in this manner:  Numenius, the son of Antiochus, and Antipater,
the son of Jason, ambassadors of the Jews, came to us to renew the
former friendship with us.
14:23. And it pleased the people to receive the men honourably, and to
put a copy of their words in the public records, to be a memorial to
the people of the Spartans.  And we have written a copy of them to
Simon, the high priest.
14:24. And after this Simon sent Numenius to Rome, with a great shield
of gold, of the weight of a thousand pounds, to confirm the league with
them.  And when the people of Rome had heard
14:25. These words, they said:  What thanks shall we give to Simon, and
14:26. For he hath restored his brethren, and hath driven away in fight
the enemies of Israel from them:  and they decreed him liberty, and
registered it in tables of brass, and set it upon pillars in mount
14:27. And this is a copy of the writing.  The eighteenth day of the
month Elul, in the year one hundred and seventy-two, being the third
year under Simon, the high priest, at Asaramel,
14:28. In a great assembly of the priests, and of the people, and the
princes of the nation, and the ancients of the country, these things
were notified:  Forasmuch as there have often been wars in our country,
14:29. And Simon, the son of Mathathias, of the children of Jarib, and
his brethren, have put themselves in danger, and resisted the enemies
of their nation, for the maintenance of their holy places, and the law:
and have raised their nation to great glory.
14:30. And Jonathan gathered together his nation, and was made their
high priest, and he was laid to his people.
14:31. And their enemies desired to tread down and destroy their
country, and to stretch forth their hands against their holy places.
14:32. Then Simon resisted and fought for his nation, and laid out much
of his money, and armed the valiant men of his nation, and gave them
14:33. And he fortified the cities of Judea and Bethsura that lieth in
the borders of Judea, where the armour of the enemies was before:  and
he placed there a garrison of Jews.
14:34. And he fortified Joppe, which lieth by the sea:  and Gazara,
which bordereth upon Azotus, wherein the enemies dwelt before, and he
placed Jews here:  and furnished them with all things convenient for
their reparation.
14:35. And the people seeing the acts of Simon, and to what glory he
meant to bring his nation, made him their prince and high priest,
because he had done all these things, and for the justice and faith
which he kept to his nation, and for that he sought by all means to
advance his people.
14:36. And in his days things prospered in his hands, so that the
heathens were taken away out of their country, and they also that were
in the city of David, in Jerusalem, in the castle, out of which they
issued forth, and profaned all places round about the sanctuary, and
did much evil to purity.
14:37. And he placed therein Jews for the defence of the country, and
of the city, and he raised up the walls of Jerusalem.
14:38. And king Demetrius confirmed him in the high priesthood.
14:39. According to these things he made him his friend, and glorified
him with great glory.
14:40. For he had heard that the Romans had called the Jews their
friends, and confederates, and brethren, and that they had received
Simon's ambassadors with honour:
14:41. And that the Jews, and their priests, had consented that he
should be their prince and high priest for ever, till there should
arise a faithful prophet:
14:42. And that he should be chief over them, and that he should have
the charge of the sanctuary, and that he should appoint rulers over
their works, and over the country, and over the armour, and over the
strong holds;
14:43. And that he should have care of the holy places; and that he
should be obeyed by all, and that all the writings in the country
should be made in his name; and that he should be clothed with purple
14:44. And that it should not be lawful for any of the people, or of
the priests, to disannul any of these things, or to gainsay his words,
or to call together an assembly in the country without him:  or to be
clothed with purple, or to wear a buckle of gold.
14:45. And whosoever shall do otherwise, or shall make void any of
these things, shall be punished.
14:46. And it pleased all the people to establish Simon, and to do
according to these words.
14:47. And Simon accepted thereof, and was well pleased to execute the
office of the high priesthood, and to be captain, and prince of the
nation of the Jews, and of the priests, and to be chief over all.
14:48. And they commanded that this writing should be put in tables of
brass, and that they should be set up within the compass of the
sanctuary, in a conspicuous place:
14:49. And that a copy thereof should be put in the treasury, that
Simon, and his sons, may have it.
1 Machabees Chapter 15
Antiochus son of Demetrius honours Simon.  The Romans write to divers
nations in favour of the Jews.  Antiochus quarrels with Simon, and sends
troops to annoy him.
15:1. And king Antiochus, the son of Demetrius, sent letters from the
isles of the sea to Simon, the priest, and prince of the nation of the
Jews, and to all the people:
15:2. And the contents were these:  King Antiochus to Simon, the high
priest, and to the nation of the Jews, greeting.
15:3. Forasmuch as certain pestilent men have usurped the kingdom of
our fathers, and my purpose is to challenge the kingdom, and to restore
it to its former estate; and I have chosen a great army, and have built
ships of war.
15:4. And I design to go through the country, that I may take revenge
of them that have destroyed our country, and that have made many cities
desolate in my realm.
15:5. Now, therefore, I confirm unto thee all the oblations which all
the kings before me remitted to thee, and what other gifts soever they
remitted to thee:
15:6. And I give thee leave to coin thy own money in thy country:
15:7. And let Jerusalem be holy and free, and all the armour that hath
been made, and the fortresses which thou hast built, and which thou
keepest in thy hands, let them remain to thee.
15:8. And all that is due to the king, and what should be the king's
hereafter, from this present and for ever, is forgiven thee.
15:9. And when we shall have recovered our kingdom, we will glorify
thee, and thy nation, and the temple, with great glory, so that your
glory shall be made manifest in all the earth.
15:10. In the year one hundred and seventy-four, Antiochus entered into
the land of his fathers, and all the forces assembled to him, so that
few were left with Tryphon.
15:11. And king Antiochus pursued after him, and he fled along by the
sea coast and came to Dora.
15:12. For he perceived that evils were gathered together upon him, and
his troops had forsaken him.
15:13. And Antiochus camped above Dora with a hundred and twenty
thousand men of war, and eight thousand horsemen:
15:14. And he invested the city, and the ships drew near by sea:  and
they annoyed the city by land, and by sea, and suffered none to come
in, or to go out.
15:15. And Numenius, and they that had been with him, came from the
city of Rome, having letters written to the kings, and countries, the
contents whereof were these:
15:16. Lucius, the consul of the Romans, to king Ptolemee, greeting.
Ptolemee. . .Surnamed Physeon, brother and successor to Philometer.
15:17. The ambassadors of the Jews, our friends, came to us, to renew
the former friendship and alliance, being sent from Simon, the high
priest, and the people of the Jews.
15:18. And they brought also a shield of gold of a thousand pounds.
15:19. It hath seemed good therefore to us, to write to the kings and
countries, that they should do them no harm, nor fight against them,
their cities, or countries:  and that they should give no aid to them
that fight against them.
15:20. And it hath seemed good to us to receive the shield of them.
15:21. If, therefore, any pestilent men are fled out of their country
to you, deliver them to Simon, the high priest, that he may punish them
according to their law.
15:22. These same things were written to king Demetrius, and to
Attalus, and to Ariarathes, and to Arsaces,
Attalus, etc. . .Attalus was king of Pergamus; Ariarathes was king of
Cappadocia; and Arsaces was king of the Parthians.
15:23. And to all the countries:  and to Lampsacus and to the Spartans,
and to Delus, and Myndus, and Sicyon, and Caria, and Samus, and
Pamphylia, and Lycia, and Alicarnassus, and Cos, and Side, and Aradus,
and Rhodes, and Phaselis, and Gortyna, and Gnidus, and Cyprus, and
15:24. And they wrote a copy thereof to Simon, the high priest, and to
the people of the Jews.
15:25. But king Antiochus moved his camp to Dora the second time,
assaulting it continually, and making engines:  and he shut up Tryphon,
that he could not go out.
15:26. And Simon sent to him two thousand chosen men to aid him, silver
also, and gold, and abundance of furniture.
15:27. And he would not receive them, but broke all the covenant that
he had made with him before, and alienated himself from him.
15:28. And he sent to him Athenobius, one of his friends, to treat with
him, saying:  You hold Joppe and Gazara, and the castle that is in
Jerusalem, which are cities of my kingdom:
15:29. Their borders you have wasted, and you have made great havoc in
the land, and have got the dominion of many places in my kingdom.
15:30. Now, therefore, deliver up the cities that you have taken, and
the tributes of the places whereof you have gotten the dominion without
the borders of Judea.
15:31. But if not, give me for them five hundred talents of silver, and
for the havoc that you have made, and the tributes of the cities, other
five hundred talents:  or else we will come and fight against you.
15:32. So Athenobius, the king's friend came to Jerusalem, and saw the
glory of Simon and his magnificence in gold, and silver, and his great
equipage, and he was astonished, and told him the king's words.
15:33. And Simon answered him, and said to him:  We have neither taken
other men's land, neither do we hold that which is other men's, but the
inheritance of our fathers, which was for some time unjustly possessed
by our enemies.
15:34. But we having opportunity, claim the inheritance of our fathers.
15:35. And as to thy complaints concerning Joppe and Gazara, they did
great harm to the people, and to our country:  yet for these we will
give a hundred talents.  And Athenobius answered him not a word.
15:36. But returning in a rage to the king, made report to him of these
words, and of the glory of Simon, and of all that he had seen, and the
king was exceeding angry.
15:37. And Tryphon fled away by ship to Orthosias.
15:38. And the king appointed Cendebeus captain of the sea coast, and
gave him an army of footmen and horsemen.
15:39. And he commanded him to march with his army towards Judea:  and
he commanded him to build up Gedor, and to fortify the gates of the
city, and to war against the people.  But the king himself pursued after
15:40. And Cendebeus came to Jamnia, and began to provoke the people,
and to ravage Judea, and to take the people prisoners, and to kill, and
to build Gedor.
15:41. And he placed there horsemen, and an army:  that they might issue
forth, and make incursions upon the ways of Judea, as the king had
commanded him.
1 Machabees Chapter 16
The sons of Simon defeat the troops of Antiochus.  Simon with two of his
sons are treacherously murdered by Ptolemee his son in law.
16:1. Then John came up from Gazara, and told Simon, his father, what
Cendebeus had done against their people.
John. . .He was afterwards surnamed Hircanus, and succeeded his father
in both his dignities of high priest and prince.  He conquered the
Edomites, and obliged them to a conformity with the Jews in religion;
and destroyed the schismatical temple of the Samaritans.
16:2. And Simon called his two eldest sons, Judas and John, and said to
them:  I and my brethren, and my father's house, have fought against the
enemies of Israel from our youth even to this day:  and things have
prospered so well in our hands, that we have delivered Israel
16:3. And now I am old, but be you instead of me, and my brethren, and
go out, and fight for our nation:  and the help from heaven be with you.
16:4. Then he chose out of the country twenty thousand fighting men,
and horsemen, and they went forth against Cendebeus:  and they rested in
16:5. And they arose in the morning, and went into the plain:  and
behold a very great army of footmen and horsemen came against them, and
there was a running river between them.
16:6. And he and his people pitched their camp over against them, and
he saw that the people were afraid to go over the river, so he went
over first:  then the men seeing him, passed over after him.
He. . .Viz., John.
16:7. And he divided the people, and set the horsemen in the midst of
the footmen:  but the horsemen of the enemies were very numerous.
16:8. And they sounded the holy trumpets:  and Cendebeus and his army
were put to flight:  and there fell many of them wounded, and the rest
fled into the strong hold.
16:9. At that time, Judas, John's brother, was wounded:  but John
pursued after them, till he came to Cedron, which he had built:
Cedron. . .Otherwise called Gedon, the city that Cendebeus was
16:10. And they fled even to the towers that were in the fields of
Azotus, and he burnt them with fire.  And there fell of them two
thousand men, and he returned into Judea in peace.
16:11. Now Ptolemee, the son of Abobus, was appointed captain in the
plain of Jericho, and he had abundance of silver and gold.
16:12. For he was son in law of the high priest.
16:13. And his heart was lifted up, and he designed to make himself
master of the country, and he purposed treachery against Simon and his
sons, to destroy them.
16:14. Now Simon, as he was going through the cities that were in the
country of Judea, and taking care for the good ordering of them, went
down to Jericho, he and Mathathias and Judas, his sons, in the year one
hundred and seventy-seven, the eleventh month:  the same is the month
16:15. And the son of Abobus received them deceitfully into a little
fortress, that is called Doch, which he had built:  and he made them a
great feast, and hid men there.
16:16. And when Simon and his sons had drunk plentifully, Ptolemee and
his men rose up, and took their weapons, and entered into the
banqueting place, and slew him, and his two sons, and some of his
16:17. And he committed a great treachery in Israel, and rendered evil
16:18. And Ptolemee wrote these things, and sent to the king that he
should send him an army to aid him, and he would deliver him the
country, and their cities, and tributes.
16:19. And he sent others to Gazara to kill John:  and to the tribunes
he sent letters to come to him, and that he would give them silver, and
gold, and gifts.
16:20. And he sent others to take Jerusalem, and the mountain of the
16:21. Now one running before, told John in Gazara, that his father and
his brethren were slain, and that he hath sent men to kill thee also.
16:22. But when he heard it, he was exceedingly afraid:  and he
apprehended the men that came to kill him, and he put them to death:
for he knew that they sought to make him away.
16:23. And as concerning the rest of the acts of John, and his wars,
and the worthy deeds, which he bravely achieved, and the building of
the walls, which he made, and the things that he did:
16:24. Behold, these are written in the book of the days of his
priesthood, from the time that he was made high priest after his
THE SECOND BOOK OF MACHABEES
This second book of MACHABEES is not a continuation of the history
contained in the first:  nor does is come down so low as the first does:
but relates many of the same facts more at large, and adds other
remarkable particulars, omitted in the first book, relating to the
state of the Jews, as well before as under the persecution of
ANTIOCHUS.  The author, who is not the same with that of the first book,
has given (as we learn from chap. 2.20, etc.) a short abstract of what
JASON of Cyrene had written in the five volumes, concerning JUDAS and
his brethren.  He wrote in Greek, and begins with two letters, sent by
the Jews of Jerusalem to their brethren in Egypt.
2 Machabees Chapter 1
Letters of the Jews of Jerusalem to them that were in Egypt.  They give
thanks for their delivery from Antiochus:  and exhort their brethren to
keep the feast of the dedication of the altar, and of the miraculous
1:1. To the brethren, the Jews that are throughout Egypt; the brethren,
the Jews that are in Jerusalem, and in the land of Judea, send health
and good peace.
1:2. May God be gracious to you, and remember his covenant that he made
with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, his faithful servants:
1:3. And give you all a heart to worship him, and to do his will with a
great heart, and a willing mind.
1:4. May he open your heart in his law, and in his commandments, and
send you peace.
1:5. May he hear your prayers, and be reconciled unto you, and never
forsake you in the evil time.
1:6. And now here we are praying for you.
1:7. When Demetrius reigned, in the year one hundred and sixty-nine, we
Jews wrote to you in the trouble and violence that came upon us in
those years, after Jason withdrew himself from the holy land, and from
the kingdom.
1:8. They burnt the gate, and shed innocent blood:  then we prayed to
the Lord, and were heard, and we offered sacrifices, and fine flour,
and lighted the lamps, and set forth the loaves.
1:9. And now celebrate ye the days of Scenopegia in the month of
Scenopegia. . .Viz., the Encenia, or feast of the dedication of the
altar, called here Scenopegia, or feast of tabernacles, from being
celebrated with the like solemnity.
1:10. In the year one hundred and eighty-eight, the people that is at
Jerusalem, and in Judea, and the senate, and Judas, to Aristobolus, the
preceptor of king Ptolemee, who is of the stock of the anointed
priests, and to the Jews that are in Egypt, health and welfare.
1:11. Having been delivered by God out of great dangers, we give him
great thanks, forasmuch as we have been in war with such a king.
Such a king. . .Viz., Antiochus Sidetes, who began to make war upon the
Jews, whilst Simon was yet alive.  1 Mac. 15.39.  And afterwards besieged
Jerusalem under John Hircanus.  So that the Judas here mentioned, ver.
10, is not Judas Machabeus, who was dead long before the year 188 of
the kingdom of the Greeks, for he died in the year 146 of that epoch,
(see above 1 Mac. chap. 2., ver. 70, also the note on chap. 1, ver. 2,)
but either Judas the eldest son of John Hircanus, or Judas the Essene,
renowned for the gift of prophecy, who flourished about that time.
1:12. For he made numbers of men swarm out of Persia, that have fought
against us, and the holy city.
1:13. For when the leader himself was in Persia, and with him a very
great army, he fell in the temple of Nanea, being deceived by the
counsel of the priests of Nanea.
Nanea. . .A Persian goddess, which some have taken for Diana, others for
1:14. For Antiochus, with his friends, came to the place as though he
would marry her, and that he might receive great sums of money under
the title of a dowry.
1:15. And when the priests of Nanea had set it forth, and he with a
small company had entered into the compass of the temple, they shut the
1:16. When Antiochus was come in:  and opening a secret entrance of the
temple, they cast stones and slew the leader, and them that were with
him, and hewed them in pieces; and cutting off their heads, they threw
1:17. Blessed be God in all things, who hath delivered up the wicked.
1:18. Therefore, whereas we purpose to keep the purification of the
temple on the five and twentieth day of the month of Casleu, we thought
it necessary to signify it to you:  that you also may keep the day of
Scenopegia, and the day of the fire, that was given when Nehemias
offered sacrifice, after the temple and the altar was built.
1:19. For when our fathers were led into Persia, the priests that then
were worshippers of God, took privately the fire from the altar, and
hid it in a valley where there was a deep pit without water, and there
they kept it safe, so that the place was unknown to all men.
Persia. . .Babylonia, called here Persia, from being afterwards a part
of the Persian empire.
1:20. But when many years had passed, and it pleased God that Nehemias
should be sent by the king of Persia, he sent some of the posterity of
those priests that had hid it, to seek for the fire:  and as they told
us, they found no fire, but thick water.
1:21. Then he bade them draw it up, and bring it to him:  and the
priest, Nehemias, commanded the sacrifices that were laid on, to be
sprinkled with the same water, both the wood, and the things that were
laid upon it.
1:22. And when this was done, and the time came that the sun shone out,
which before was in a cloud, there was a great fire kindled, so that
all wondered.
1:23. And all the priests made prayer, while the sacrifice was
consuming, Jonathan beginning, and the rest answering.
1:24. And the prayer of Nehemias was after this manner:  O Lord God,
Creator of all things, dreadful and strong, just and merciful, who
alone art the good king,
1:25. Who alone art gracious, who alone art just, and almighty, and
eternal, who deliverest Israel from all evil, who didst choose the
fathers, and didst sanctify them:
1:26. Receive the sacrifice for all thy people Israel, and preserve thy
own portion, and sanctify it.
1:27. Gather together our scattered people, deliver them that are
slaves to the Gentiles, and look upon them that are despised and
abhorred:  that the Gentiles may know that thou art our God
1:28. Punish them that oppress us, and that treat us injuriously with
1:29. Establish thy people in thy holy place, as Moses hath spoken.
1:30. And the priests sung hymns till the sacrifice was consumed.
1:31. And when the sacrifice was consumed, Nehemias commanded the water
that was left to be poured out upon the great stones.
1:32. Which being done, there was kindled a flame from them:  but it was
consumed by the light that shined from the altar.
1:33. And when this matter became public, it was told to the king of
Persia, that in the place where the priests that were led away, had hid
the fire, there appeared water, with which Nehemias and they that were
with him had purified the sacrifices.
1:34. And the king considering, and diligently examining the matter,
made a temple for it, that he might prove what had happened.
A temple. . .That is, an enclosure, or a wall round about the place
where the fire was hid, to separate it from profane uses, to the end
that it might be respected as a holy place.
1:35. And when he had proved it, he gave the priests many goods, and
divers presents, and he took and distributed them to them with his own
1:36. And Nehemias called this place Nephthar, which is interpreted
purification.  But many call it Nephi.
2 Machabees Chapter 2
A continuation of the second letter.  Of Jeremias' hiding the ark at the
time of the captivity.  The author's preface.
2:1.Now it is found in the descriptions of Jeremias, the prophet, that
he commanded them that went into captivity, to take the fire, as it
hath been signified, and how he gave charge to them that were carried
away into captivity.
The descriptions. . .That is, the records or memoirs of Jeremias, a work
that is now lost.
2:2. And how he gave them the law, that they should not forget the
commandments of the Lord, and that they should not err in their minds,
seeing the idols of gold, and silver, and the ornaments of them.
2:3. And with other such like speeches, he exhorted them that they
would not remove the law from their heart.
2:4. It was also contained in the same writing, how the prophet, being
warned by God, commanded that the tabernacle and the ark should
accompany him, till he came forth to the mountain where Moses went up,
and saw the inheritance of God.
2:5. And when Jeremias came thither he found a hollow cave:  and he
carried in thither the tabernacle, and the ark, and the altar of
incense, and so stopped the door.
2:6. Then some of them that followed him, came up to mark the place:
but they could not find it.
2:7. And when Jeremias perceived it, he blamed them, saying:  The place
shall be unknown, till God gather together the congregation of the
people, and receive them to mercy.
2:8. And then the Lord will shew these things, and the majesty of the
Lord shall appear, and there shall be a cloud as it was also shewed to
Moses, and he shewed it when Solomon prayed that the place might be
sanctified to the great God.
2:9. For he treated wisdom in a magnificent manner:  and like a wise
man, he offered the sacrifice of the dedication, and of the finishing
of the temple.
2:10. And as Moses prayed to the Lord, and fire came down from heaven,
and consumed the holocaust:  so Solomon also prayed, and fire came down
from heaven and consumed the holocaust.
2:11. And Moses said:  Because the sin offering was not eaten, it was
2:12. So Solomon also celebrated the dedication eight days.
2:13. And these same things were set down in the memoirs, and
commentaries of Nehemias:  and how he made a library, and gathered
together out of the countries, the books both of the prophets, and of
David, and the epistles of the kings, and concerning the holy gifts.
2:14. And in like manner Judas also gathered together all such things
as were lost by the war we had, and they are in our possession.
2:15. Wherefore, if you want these things, send some that may fetch
them to you.
2:16. As we are then about to celebrate the purification, we have
written unto you:  and you shall do well, if you keep the same days.
The purification. . .That is, the feast of the purifying or cleansing of
2:17. And we hope that God, who hath delivered his people, and hath
rendered to all the inheritance, and the kingdom, and the priesthood,
and the sanctuary,
2:18. As he promised in the law, will shortly have mercy upon us, and
will gather us together from every land under heaven into the holy
2:19. For he hath delivered us out of great perils, and hath cleansed
2:20. Now as concerning Judas Machabeus, and his brethren, and the
purification of the great temple, and the dedication of the altar:
2:21. As also the wars against Antiochus, the Illustrious, and his son,
2:22. And the manifestations that came from heaven to them, that
behaved themselves manfully on the behalf of the Jews, so that, being
but a few they made themselves masters of the whole country, and put to
flight the barbarous multitude:
2:23. And recovered again the most renowned temple in all the world,
and delivered the city, and restored the laws that were abolished, the
Lord with all clemency shewing mercy to them.
2:24. And all such things as have been comprised in five books by
Jason, of Cyrene, we have attempted to abridge in one book.
2:25. For considering the multitude of books, and the difficulty that
they find that desire to undertake the narrations of histories, because
of the multitude of the matter,
2:26. We have taken care for those indeed that are willing to read,
that it might be a pleasure of mind:  and for the studious, that they
may more easily commit to memory:  and that all that read might receive
2:27. And as to ourselves indeed, in undertaking this work of
abridging, we have taken in hand no easy task; yea, rather a business
full of watching and sweat.
No easy task, etc. . .The spirit of God, that assists the sacred penmen,
does not exempt them from labour in seeking out the matter which they
are to treat of, and the order and manner in which they are to deliver
it.  So St. Luke writ the gospel having diligently attained to all
things.  Luke 1. ver. 3.
2:28. But as they that prepare a feast, and seek to satisfy the will of
others:  for the sake of many, we willingly undergo the labour.
2:29. Leaving to the authors the exact handling of every particular,
and as for ourselves, according to the plan proposed, studying to be
2:30. For as the master builder of a new house must have care of the
whole building:  but he that taketh care to paint it, must seek out fit
things for the adorning of it:  so must it be judged of us.
2:31. For to collect all that is to be known, to put the discourse in
order, and curiously to discuss every particular point, is the duty of
the author of a history:
2:32. But to pursue brevity of speech, and to avoid nice declarations
of things, is to be granted to him that maketh an abridgment.
2:33. Here then we will begin the narration:  let this be enough by way
of a preface:  for it is a foolish thing to make a long prologue, and to
be short in the story itself.
2 Machabees Chapter 3
Heliodorus is sent by king Seleucus to take away the treasures
deposited in the temple.  He is struck by God, and healed by the prayers
of the high priest.
3:1. Therefore, when the holy city was inhabited with all peace, and
the laws as yet were very well kept, because of the godliness of Onias,
the high priest and the hatred his soul had of evil,
3:2. It came to pass that even the kings themselves and the princes
esteemed the place worthy of the highest honour, and glorified the
temple with very great gifts:
3:3. So that Seleucus, king of Asia, allowed out of his revenues all
the charges belonging to the ministry of the sacrifices.
Seleucus. . .Son of Antiochus the Great, and elder brother of Antiochus
3:4. But one Simon, of the tribe of Benjamin, who was appointed
overseer of the temple, strove in opposition to the high priest, to
bring about some unjust thing in the city.
3:5. And when he could not overcome Onias, he went to Apollonius, the
son of Tharseas, who at that time was governor of Celesyria, and
3:6. And told him, that the treasury in Jerusalem was full of immense
sums of money, and the common store was infinite, which did not belong
to the account of the sacrifices:  and that it was possible to bring all
into the king's hands.
3:7. Now when Apollonius had given the king notice concerning the money
that he was told of, he called for Heliodorus, who had the charge over
his affairs, and sent him with commission to bring him the foresaid
3:8. So Heliodorus forthwith began his journey, under a colour of
visiting the cities of Celesyria and Phenicia, but indeed to fulfil the
king's purpose.
3:9. And when he was come to Jerusalem, and had been courteously
received in the city by the high priest, he told him what information
had been given concerning the money:  and declared the cause for which
he was come:  and asked if these things were so indeed.
3:10. Then the high priest told him that these were sums deposited, and
provisions for the subsistence of the widows and the fatherless:
3:11. And that some part of that which wicked Simon had given
intelligence of belonged to Hircanus, son of Tobias, a man of great
dignity; and that the whole was four hundred talents of silver, and two
hundred of gold.
3:12. But that to deceive them who had trusted to the place and temple
which is honoured throughout the whole world, for the reverence and
holiness of it, was a thing which could not by any means be done.
3:13. But he, by reason of the orders he had received from the king,
said, that by all means the money must be carried to the king.
3:14. So on the day he had appointed, Heliodorus entered in to order
this matter.  But there was no small terror throughout the whole city.
3:15. And the priests prostrated themselves before the altar in their
priests' vestments, and called upon him from heaven, who made the law
concerning things given to be kept, that he would preserve them safe,
for them that had deposited them.
3:16. Now whosoever saw the countenance of the high priest, was wounded
in heart:  for his face, and the changing of his colour, declared the
inward sorrow of his mind.
3:17. For the man was so compassed with sadness and horror of the body,
that it was manifest to them that beheld him, what sorrow he had in his
3:18. Others also came flocking together out of their houses, praying
and making public supplication, because the place was like to come into
3:19. And the women, girded with haircloth about their breasts, came
together in the streets.  And the virgins also that were shut up, came
forth, some to Onias, and some to the walls, and others looked out of
the windows.
3:20. And all holding up their hands towards heaven made supplication.
3:21. For the expectation of the mixed multitude, and of the high
priest, who was in an agony, would have moved any one to pity.
3:22. And these indeed called upon almighty God, to preserve the things
that had been committed to them safe and sure for those that had
committed them.
3:23. But Heliodorus executed that which he had resolved on, himself
being present in the same place with his guard about the treasury.
3:24. But the spirit of the Almighty God gave a great evidence of his
presence, so that all that had presumed to obey him, falling down by
the power of God, were struck with fainting and dread.
3:25. For there appeared to them a horse, with a terrible rider upon
him, adorned with a very rich covering:  and he ran fiercely and struck
Heliodorus with his fore feet, and he that sat upon him seemed to have
armour of gold.
3:26. Moreover there appeared two other young men, beautiful and
strong, bright and glorious, and in comely apparel:  who stood by him,
on either side, and scourged him without ceasing with many stripes.
3:27. And Heliodorus suddenly fell to the ground, and they took him up,
covered with great darkness, and having put him into a litter, they
carried him out.
3:28. So he that came with many servants, and all his guard, into the
aforesaid treasury, was carried out, no one being able to help him, the
manifest power of God being known.
3:29. And he indeed, by the power of God, lay speechless, and without
all hope of recovery.
3:30. But they praised the Lord, because he had glorified his place:
and the temple, that a little before was full of fear and trouble, when
the Almighty Lord appeared, was filled with joy and gladness.
3:31. Then some of the friends of Heliodorus forthwith begged of Onias,
that he would call upon the Most High to grant him his life, who was
ready to give up the ghost.
3:32. So the high priest, considering that the king might perhaps
suspect that some mischief had been done to Heliodorus by the Jews,
offered a sacrifice of health for the recovery of the man.
3:33. And when the high priest was praying, the same young men in the
same clothing stood by Heliodorus, and said to him:  Give thanks to
Onias the priest:  because for his sake the Lord hath granted thee life.
3:34. And thou having been scourged by God, declare unto all men the
great works and the power of God.  And having spoken thus, they appeared
3:35. So Heliodorus, after he had offered a sacrifice to God, and made
great vows to him, that had granted him life, and given thanks to
Onias, taking his troops with him, returned to the king.
3:36. And he testified to all men the works of the great God, which he
had seen with his own eyes.
3:37. And when the king asked Heliodorus, who might be a fit man to be
sent yet once more to Jerusalem, he said:
3:38. If thou hast any enemy, or traitor to thy king dom, send him
thither, and thou shalt receive him again scourged, if so be he escape:
for there is undoubtedly in that place a certain power of God.
3:39. For he that hath his dwelling in the heavens, is the visitor and
protector of that place, and he striketh and destroyeth them that come
to do evil to it.
3:40. And the things concerning Heliodorus, and the keeping of the
treasury, fell out in this manner.
2 Machabees Chapter 4
Onias has recourse to the king.  The ambition and wickedness of Jason
and Menelaus.  Onias is treacherously murdered.
4:1. But Simon, of whom we spoke before, who was the betrayer of the
money, and of his country, spoke ill of Onias, as though he had incited
Heliodorus to do these things, and had been the promoter of evils:
4:2. And he presumed to call him a traitor to the kingdom, who provided
for the city, and defended his nation, and was zealous for the law of
4:3. But when the enmities proceeded so far, that murders also were
committed by some of Simon's friends:
4:4. Onias, considering the danger of this contention, and that
Apollonius, who was the governor of Celesyia, and Phenicia, was
outrageous, which increased the malice of Simon, went to the king,
4:5. Not to be an accuser of his countrymen, but with view to the
common good of all the people.
4:6. For he saw that, except the king took care, it was impossible that
matters should be settled in peace, or that Simon would cease from his
4:7. But after the death of Seleucus, when Antiochus, who was called
the Illustrious, had taken possession of the kingdom, Jason, the
brother of Onias, ambitiously sought the high priesthood:
4:8. And went to the king, promising him three hundred and sixty
talents of silver, and out of other revenues fourscore talents.
4:9. Besides this he promised also a hundred and fifty more, if he
might have license to set him up a place for exercise, and a place for
youth, and to entitle them that were at Jerusalem, Antiochians.
4:10. Which when the king had granted, and he had gotten the rule into
his hands, forthwith he began to bring over his countrymen to the
fashion of the heathens.
4:11. And abolishing those things, which had been decreed of special
favour by the kings in behalf of the Jews, by the means of John, the
father of that Eupolemus, who went ambassador to Rome to make amity and
alliance, he disannulled the lawful ordinances of the citizens, and
brought in fashions that were perverse.
4:12. For he had the boldness to set up, under the very castle, a place
of exercise, and to put all the choicest youths in brothel houses.
4:13. Now this was not the beginning, but an increase, and progress of
heathenish and foreign manners, through the abominable and unheard of
wickedness of Jason, that impious wretch, and no priest.
4:14. Insomuch that the priests were not now occupied about the offices
of the altar, but despising the temple and neglecting the sacrifices,
hastened to be partakers of the games, and of the unlawful allowance
thereof, and of the exercise of the discus.
4:15. And setting nought by the honours of their fathers, they esteemed
the Grecian glories for the best:
4:16. For the sake of which they incurred a dangerous contention, and
followed earnestly their ordinances, and in all things they coveted to
be like them, who were their enemies and murderers.
4:17. For acting wickedly against the laws of God doth not pass
unpunished:  but this the time following will declare.
4:18. Now when the game that was used every fifth year was kept at
Tyre, the king being present,
4:19. The wicked Jason sent from Jerusalem sinful men, to carry three
hundred didrachmas of silver for the sacrifice of Hercules; but the
bearers thereof desired it might not be bestowed on the sacrifices,
because it was not necessary, but might be deputed for other charges.
4:20. So the money was appointed by him that sent it to the sacrifice
of Hercules:  but because of them that carried it was employed for the
making of galleys.
4:21. Now when Apollonius, the son of Mnestheus was sent into Egypt to
treat with the nobles of king Philometor, and Antiochus understood that
he was wholly excluded from the affairs of the kingdom, consulting his
own interest, he departed thence and came to Joppe, and from thence to
4:22. Where he was received in a magnificent manner by Jason, and the
city, and came in with torch lights, and with praises, and from thence
he returned with his army into Phenicia.
4:23. Three years afterwards Jason sent Menelaus, brother of the
aforesaid Simon, to carry money to the king, and to bring answers from
him concerning certain necessary affairs.
4:24. But he being recommended to the king, when he had magnified the
appearance of his power, got the high priesthood for himself, by
offering more than Jason by three hundred talents of silver.
4:25. So having received the king's mandate, he returned, bringing
nothing worthy of the high priesthood:  but having the mind of a cruel
tyrant, and the rage of a savage beast.
4:26. Then Jason, who had undermined his own brother, being himself
undermined, was driven out a fugitive into the country of the
4:27. So Menelaus got the principality:  but as for the money he had
promised to the king, he took no care, when Sostratus, the governor of
the castle, called for it.
4:28. For to him appertained the gathering of the taxes:  wherefore they
were both called before the king.
4:29. And Menelaus was removed from the priesthood, Lysimachus, his
brother, succeeding:  and Sostratus alas made governor of the Cyprians.
4:30. When these things were in doing, it fell out that they of
Tharsus, and Mallos, raised a sedition, because they were given for a
gift to Antiochus, the king's concubine.
4:31. The king, therefore, went in all haste to appease them, leaving
Andronicus, one of his nobles, for his deputy.
4:32. Then Menelaus supposing that he had found a convenient time,
having stolen certain vessels of gold out of the temple, gave them to
Andronicus, and others he had sold at Tyre, and in the neighbouring
4:33. Which when Onias understood most certainly, he reproved him,
keeping himself in a safe place at Antioch, beside Daphne.
4:34. Whereupon Menelaus coming to Andronicus, desired him to kill
Onias.  And he went to Onias, and gave him his right hand with an oath,
and (though he were suspected by him) persuaded him to come forth out
of the sanctuary, and immediately slew him, without any regard to
4:35. For which cause not only the Jews, but also the other nations,
conceived indignation, and were much grieved for the unjust murder of
so great a man.
4:36. And when the king was come back from the places of Cilicia, the
Jews that were at Antioch, and also the Greeks, went to him:
complaining of the unjust murder of Onias.
4:37. Antiochus, therefore, was grieved in his mind for Onias, and
being moved to pity, shed tears, remembering the sobriety and modesty
of the deceased.
4:38. And being inflamed to anger, he commanded Andronicus to be
stripped of his purple, and to be led about through all the city:  and
that in the same place wherein he had committed the impiety against
Onias, the sacrilegious wretch should be put to death, the Lord
repaying him his deserved punishment.
4:39. Now when many sacrileges had been committed by Lysimachus in the
temple, by the counsel of Menelaus, and the rumour of it was spread
abroad, the multitude gathered themselves together against Lysimachus,
a great quantity of gold being already carried away.
4:40. Wherefore the multitude making an insurrection, and their minds
being filled with anger, Lysimachus armed about three thousand men, and
began to use violence, one Tyrannus being captain, a man far gone both
in age and in madness.
4:41. But when they perceived the attempt of Lysimachus, some caught up
stones, some strong clubs, and some threw ashes upon Lysimachus.
4:42. And many of them were wounded, and some struck down to the
ground, but all were put to flight:  and as for the sacrilegious fellow
himself, they slew him beside the treasury.
4:43. Now concerning these matters, an accusation was laid against
4:44. And when the king was come to Tyre, three men were sent from the
ancients to plead the cause before him.
4:45. But Menelaus being convicted, promised Ptolemee to give him much
money to persuade the king to favour him.
Ptolemee. . .The son of Dorymenus, a favourite of the king.
4:46. So Ptolemee went to the king in a certain court where he was, as
it were to cool himself, and brought him to be of another mind:
4:47. So Menelaus, who was guilty of all the evil, was acquitted by him
of the accusations:  and those poor men, who, if they had pleaded their
cause even before Scythians, should have been judged innocent, were
condemned to death.
4:48. Thus they that persecuted the cause for the city, and for the
people, and the sacred vessels, did soon suffer unjust punishment.
4:49. Wherefore even the Tyrians, being moved with indignation, were
very liberal towards their burial.
4:50. And so through the covetousness of them that were in power,
Menelaus continued in authority, increasing in malice to the betraying
of the citizens.
2 Machabees Chapter 5
Wonderful signs are seen in the air.  Jason's wickedness and end.
Antiochus takes Jerusalem, and plunders the temple.
5:1. At the same time Antiochus prepared for a second journey into
5:2. And it came to pass, that through the whole city of Jerusalem, for
the space of forty days, there were seen horsemen running in the air,
in gilded raiment, and armed with spears, like bands of soldiers.
5:3. And horses set in order by ranks, running one against another,
with the shakings of shields, and a multitude of men in helmets, with
drawn swords, and casting of darts, and glittering of golden armour,
and of harnesses of all sorts.
5:4. Wherefore all men prayed that these prodigies might turn to good.
5:5. Now when there was gone forth a false rumour as though Antiochus
had been dead, Jason taking with him no fewer than a thousand men,
suddenly assaulted the city:  and though the citizens ran together to
the wall, the city at length was taken, and Menelaus fled into the
5:6. But Jason slew his countrymen without mercy, not considering that
prosperity against one's own kindred is a very great evil, thinking
they had been enemies, and not citizens, whom he conquered.
5:7. Yet he did not get the principality, but received confusion at the
end, for the reward of his treachery, and fled again into the country
of the Ammonites.
5:8. At the last, having been shut up by Aretas, the king of the
Arabians, in order for his destruction, flying from city to city, hated
by all men, as a forsaker of the laws and execrable, as an enemy of his
country and countrymen, he was thrust out into Egypt:
5:9. And he that had driven many out of their country perished in a
strange land, going to Lacedemon, as if for kindred sake he should have
refuge there:
5:10. But he that had cast out many unburied, was himself cast forth
both unlamented and unburied, neither having foreign burial, nor being
partaker of the sepulchre of his fathers.
5:11. Now when these things were done, the king suspected that the Jews
would forsake the alliance:  whereupon departing out of Egypt with a
furious mind, he took the city by force of arms,
5:12. And commanded the soldiers to kill, and not to spare any that
came in their way, and to go up into the houses to slay.
5:13. Thus there was a slaughter of young and old, destruction of women
and children, and killing of virgins and infants.
5:14. And there were slain in the space of three whole days fourscore
thousand, forty thousand were made prisoners, and as many sold.
5:15. But this was not enough, he presumed also to enter into the
temple, the most holy in all the world Menelaus, that traitor to the
laws, and to his country, being his guide.
5:16. And taking in his wicked hands the holy vessels, which were given
by other kings and cities, for the ornament and the glory of the place,
he unworthily handled and profaned them.
5:17. Thus Antiochus going astray in mind, did not consider that God
was angry for a while, because of the sins of the inhabitants of the
city:  and therefore this contempt had happened to the place:
5:18. Otherwise had they not been involved in many sins, as Heliodorus,
who was sent by king Seleucus to rob the treasury, so this man also, as
soon as he had come, had been forthwith scourged, and put back from his
presumption.
5:19. But God did not choose the people for the place's sake, but the
place for the people's sake.
5:20. And, therefore, the place also itself was made partaker of the
evils of the people:  but afterwards shall communicate in the good
things thereof, and as it was forsaken in the wrath of Almighty God,
shall be exalted again with great glory, when the great Lord shall be
5:21. So when Antiochus had taken away out of the temple a thousand and
eight hundred talents, he went back in all haste to Antioch, thinking
through pride that he might now make the land navigable, and the sea
passable on foot:  such was the haughtiness of his mind.
5:22. He left also governors to afflict the people:  at Jerusalem,
Philip, a Phrygian by birth, but in manners more barbarous than he that
set him there:
5:23. And in Gazarim, Andronicus and Menelaus, who bore a more heavy
hand upon the citizens than the rest.
5:24. And whereas he was set against the Jews, he sent that hateful
prince, Apollonius, with an army of two and twenty thousand men,
commanding him to kill all that were of perfect age, and to sell the
women and the younger sort.
5:25. Who, when he was come to Jerusalem, pretending peace, rested till
the holy day of the sabbath:  and then the Jews keeping holiday, he
commanded his men to take arms.
5:26. And he slew all that were come forth to flee:  and running through
the city with armed men, he destroyed a very great multitude.
5:27. But Judas Machabeus, who was the tenth, had withdrawn himself
into a desert place, and there lived amongst wild beasts in the
mountains with his company:  and they continued feeding on herbs, that
they might not be partakers of the pollution.
Was the tenth. . .That is, he had nine others in his company.
2 Machabees Chapter 6
Antiochus commands the law to be abolished, sets up an idol in the
temple, and persecutes the faithful.  The martyrdom of Eleazar.
6:1. But not long after the king sent a certain old man of Antioch, to
compel the Jews to depart from the laws of their fathers and of God:
6:2. And to defile the temple that was in Jerusalem, and to call it the
temple of Jupiter Olympius:  and that in Garazim of Jupiter Hospitalis,
according as they were that inhabited the place.
That in Gazarim. . .Viz., the temple of the Samaritans.  And as they were
originally strangers, the name of Hospitalis (which signifies of or
belonging to strangers) was applicable to the idol set up in their
6:3. And very bad was this invasion of evils, and grievous to all.
6:4. For the temple was full of the riot and revellings of the
Gentiles:  and of men lying with lewd women.  And women thrust themselves
of their accord into the holy places, and brought in things that were
6:5. The altar also was filled with unlawful things, which were
forbidden by the laws.
6:6. And neither were the sabbaths kept, nor the solemn days of the
fathers observed, neither did any man plainly profess himself to be a
6:7. But they were led by bitter constraint on the king's birthday to
the sacrifices:  and when the feast of Bacchus was kept, they were
compelled to go about crowned with ivy in honour of Bacchus.
6:8. And there went out a decree into the neighbouring cities of the
Gentiles, by the suggestion of the Ptolemeans, that they also should
act in like manner against the Jews, to oblige them to sacrifice:
6:9. And whosoever would not conform themselves to the ways of the
Gentiles, should be put to death:  then was misery to be seen.
6:10. For two women were accused to have circumcised their children:
whom, when they had openly led about through the city, with the infants
hanging at their breasts, they threw down headlong from the walls.
6:11. And others that had met together in caves that were near, and
were keeping the sabbath day privately, being discovered by Philip,
were burnt with fire, because they made a conscience to help themselves
with their hands, by reason of the religious observance of the day.
Philip. . .The governor of Jerusalem.
6:12. Now I beseech those that shall read this book, that they be not
shocked at these calamities, but that they consider the things that
happened, not as being for the destruction, but for the correction of
6:13. For it is a token of great goodness, when sinners are not
suffered to go on in their ways for a long time, but are presently
6:14. For, not as with other nations, (whom the Lord patiently
expecteth, that when the day of judgment shall come, he may punish them
in the fulness of their sins:)
6:15. Doth he also deal with us, so as to suffer our sins to come to
their height, and then take vengeance on us.
6:16. And therefore he never withdraweth his mercy from us:  but though
he chastise his people with adversity he forsaketh them not.
6:17. But let this suffice in a few words for a warning to the readers.
And now we must come to the narration.
6:18. Eleazar one of the chief of the scribes, a man advanced in years,
and of a comely countenance, was pressed to open his mouth to eat
swine's flesh.
6:19. But he, choosing rather a most glorious death than a hateful
life, went forward voluntarily to the torment.
6:20. And considering in what manner he was to come to it, patiently
bearing, he determined not to do any unlawful things for the love of
6:21. But they that stood by, being moved with wicked pity, for the old
friendship they had with the man, taking him aside, desired that flesh
might be brought which it was lawful for him to eat, that he might make
as if he had eaten, as the king had commanded, of the flesh of the
Wicked pity. . .Their pity was wicked, inasmuch as it suggested that
wicked proposal of saving his life by dissimulation.
6:22. That by so doing he might be delivered from death; and for the
sake of their old friendship with the man, they did him this courtesy.
6:23. But he began to consider the dignity of his age, and his ancient
years, and the inbred honour of his grey head, and his good life and
conversation from a child; and he answered without delay, according to
the ordinances of the holy law made by God, saying, that he would
rather be sent into the other world.
6:24. For it doth not become our age, said he, to dissemble:  whereby
many young persons might think that Eleazar, at the age of fourscore
and ten years, was gone over to the life of the heathens:
6:25. And so they, through my dissimulation, and for a little time of a
corruptible life, should be deceived, and hereby I should bring a stain
and a curse upon my old age.
6:26. For though, for the present time, I should be delivered from the
punishments of men, yet should I not escape the hand of the Almighty
neither alive nor dead.
6:27. Wherefore, by departing manfully out of this life, I shall shew
myself worthy of my old age:
6:28. And I shall leave an example of fortitude to young men, if with a
ready mind and constancy I suffer an honourable death, for the most
venerable and most holy laws.  And having spoken thus, he was forthwith
carried to execution.
6:29. And they that led him, and had been a little before more mild,
were changed to wrath for the words he had spoken, which they thought
were uttered out of arrogancy.
6:30. But when be was now ready to die with the stripes, he groaned:
and said:  O Lord, who hast the holy knowledge, thou knowest manifestly
that whereas I might be delivered from death, I suffer grievous pains
in body:  but in soul am well content to suffer these things, because I
6:31. Thus did this man die, leaving not only to young men, but also to
the whole nation, the memory of his death, for an example of virtue and
2 Machabees Chapter 7
The glorious martyrdom of the seven brethren and their mother.
7:1. It came to pass also, that seven brethren, together with their
mother, were apprehended, and compelled by the king to eat swine's
flesh against the law, for which end they were tormented with whips and
7:2. But one of them, who was the eldest, said thus:  What wouldst thou
ask, or learn of us?  we are ready to die, rather than to transgress the
laws of God, received from our fathers.
7:3. Then the king being angry, commanded fryingpans and brazen
caldrons to be made hot:  which forthwith being heated,
7:4. He commanded to cut out the tongue of him that had spoken first:
and the skin of his head being drawn off, to chop off also the
extremities of his hands and feet, the rest of his brethren and his
mother looking on.
7:6. And when he was now maimed in all parts, he commanded him, being
yet alive, to be brought to the fire, and to be fried in the fryingpan:
and while he was suffering therein long torments, the rest, together
with the mother, exhorted one another to die manfully,
7:6. Saying:  The Lord God will look upon the truth, and will take
pleasure in us, as Moses declared in the profession of the canticle;
And in his servants he will take pleasure.
7:7. So when the first was dead after this manner, they brought the
next to make him a mocking stock:  and when they had pulled off the skin
of his head with the hair, they asked him if he would eat, before he
were punished throughout the whole body in every limb.
7:8. But he answered in his own language, and said:  I will not do it.
Wherefore he also, in the next place, received the torments of the first:
7:9. And when he was at the last gasp, he said thus:  Thou indeed, O
most wicked man, destroyest us out of this present life:  but the King
of the world will raise us up, who die for his laws, in the
resurrection of eternal life.
7:10. After him the third was made a mocking-stock, and when he was
required, he quickly put forth his tongue, and courageously stretched
out his hands:
7:11. And said with confidence:  These I have from heaven, but for the
laws of God I now despise them, because I hope to receive them again
7:12. So that the king, and they that were with him, wondered at the
young man's courage, because he esteemed the torments as nothing.
7:13. And after he was thus dead, they tormented the fourth in the like
7:14. And when he was now ready to die, he spoke thus:  It is better,
being put to death by men, to look for hope from God, to be raised up
again by him; for, as to thee, thou shalt have no resurrection unto
7:15. And when they had brought the fifth, they tormented him.  But he,
looking upon the king,
7:16. Said:  Whereas thou hast power among men though thou art
corruptible, thou dost what thou wilt but think not that our nation is
forsaken by God.
7:17. But stay patiently a while, and thou shalt see his great power,
in what manner he will torment thee and thy seed.
7:18. After him they brought the sixth, and he being ready to die,
spoke thus:  Be not deceived without cause:  for we suffer these things
for ourselves, having sinned against our God, and things worthy of
admiration are done to us:
7:19. But do not think that thou shalt escape unpunished, for that thou
hast attempted to fight against God.
7:20. Now the mother was to be admired above measure, and worthy to be
remembered by good men, who beheld her seven sons slain in the space of
one day, and bore it with a good courage, for the hope that she had in
7:21. And she bravely exhorted every one of them in her own language,
being filled with wisdom; and joining a man's heart to a woman's
7:22. She said to them:  I know not how you were formed in my womb; for
I neither gave you breath, nor soul, nor life, neither did I frame the
limbs of every one of you.
7:23. But the Creator of the world, that formed the nativity of man,
and that found out the origin of all, he will restore to you again, in
his mercy, both breath and life, as now you despise yourselves for the
sake of his laws.
7:24. Now Antiochus, thinking himself despised, and withal despising
the voice of the upbraider, when the youngest was yet alive, did not
only exhort him by words, but also assured him with an oath, that he
would make him a rich and a happy man, and, if he would turn from the
laws of his fathers, would take him for a friend, and furnish him with
things necessary.
7:25. But when the young man was not moved with these things, the king
called the mother, and counselled her to deal with the young man to
save his life.
7:26. And when he had exhorted her with many words she promised that
she would counsel her son.
7:27. So bending herself towards him, mocking the cruel tyrant, she
said in her own language:  My son have pity upon me, that bore thee nine
months in my womb, and gave thee suck three years, and nourished thee,
and brought thee up unto this age.
7:28. I beseech thee, my son, look upon heaven and earth, and all that
is in them, and consider that God made them out of nothing, and mankind
7:29. So thou shalt not fear this tormentor, but being made a worthy
partner with thy brethren, receive death, that in that mercy I may
receive thee again with thy brethren.
7:30. While she was yet speaking these words, the young man said:  For
whom do you stay?  I will not obey the commandment of the king, but the
commandment of the law which was given us by Moses.
7:31. But thou that hast been the author of all mischief against the
Hebrews, shalt not escape the hand of God.
7:32. For we suffer thus for our sins.
7:33. And though the Lord, our God, is angry with us a little while,
for our chastisement and correction, yet he will be reconciled again to
his servants.
7:34. But thou, O wicked, and of all men most flagitious, be not lifted
up without cause with vain hopes, whilst thou art raging against his
7:35. For thou hast not yet escaped the judgment of the Almighty God,
who beholdeth all things.
7:36. For my brethren having now undergone a short pain, are under the
covenant of eternal life:  but thou, by the judgment of God, shalt
receive just punishment for thy pride.
7:37. But I, like my brethren, offer up my life and my body for the
laws of our fathers:  calling upon God to be speedily merciful to our
nation, and that thou by torments and stripes mayst confess that he
alone is God.
7:38. But in me, and in my brethren, the wrath of the Almighty, which
hath justly been brought upon all our nation, shall cease.
7:39. Then the king being incensed with anger, raged against him more
cruelly than all the rest, taking it grievously that he was mocked.
7:40. So this man also died undefiled, wholly trusting in the Lord.
7:41. And last of all, after the sons, the mother also was consumed.
7:42. But now there is enough said of the sacrifices and of the
excessive cruelties.
2 Machabees Chapter 8
Judas Machabeus gathering an army gains divers victories.
8:1. But Judas Machabeus, and they that were with him, went privately
into the towns:  and calling together their kinsmen and friends, and
taking unto them such as continued in the Jews' religion, they
assembled six thousand men.
8:2. And they called upon the Lord, that he would look upon his people
that was trodden down by all and would have pity on the temple, that
was defiled by the wicked:
8:3. That he would have pity also upon the city that was destroyed,
that was ready to be made even with the ground, and would hear the
voice of the blood that cried to him:
8:4. That he would remember also the most unjust deaths of innocent
children, and the blasphemies offered to his name, and would shew his
indignation on this occasion.
8:5. Now when Machabeus had gathered a multitude, he could not be
withstood by the heathens:  for the wrath of the Lord was turned into
8:6. So coming unawares upon the towns and cities, he set them on fire,
and taking possession of the most commodious places, he made no small
slaughter of the enemies:
8:7. And especially in the nights he went upon these expeditions, and
the fame of his valour was spread abroad every where.
8:8. Then Philip seeing that the man gained ground by little and
little, and that things for the most part succeeded prosperously with
him, wrote to Ptolemee, the governor of Celesyria and Phenicia, to send
aid to the king's affairs.
Philip seeing, etc. . .The governor of Jerusalem found himself unable to
contend with Judas, especially after the victories he had obtained over
Apollonius and Seron.  1 Mac. 3.
8:9. And he with all speed sent Nicanor, the son of Patroclus, one of
his special friends, giving him no fewer than twenty thousand armed men
of different nations, to root out the whole race of the Jews, joining
also with him Gorgias, a good soldier, and of great experience in
matters of war.
Twenty thousand. . .The whole number of the forces sent at that time
into Judea, was 40,000 footmen, and 7000 horsemen, 1 Mac. 3.30.  But
only 20,000 are here taken notice of, because there were no more with
Nicanor at the time of the battle.
8:10. And Nicanor purposed to raise for the king the tribute of two
thousand talents, that was to be given to the Romans, by making so much
money of the captive Jews:
8:11. Wherefore he sent immediately to the cities upon the sea coast,
to invite men together to buy up the Jewish slaves, promising that they
should have ninety slaves for one talent, not reflecting on the
vengeance which was to follow him from the Almighty.
8:12. Now when Judas found that Nicanor was coming, he imparted to the
Jews that were with him, that the enemy was at hand.
8:13. And some of them being afraid, and distrusting the justice of
God, fled away.
8:14. Others sold all that they had left, and withal besought the Lord,
that he would deliver them from the wicked Nicanor, who had sold them
before he came near them:
8:15. And if not for their sakes, yet for the covenant that he had made
with their fathers, and for the sake of his holy and glorious name that
was invoked upon them.
8:16. But Machabeus calling together seven thousand that were with him,
exhorted them not to be reconciled to the enemies, nor to fear the
multitude of the enemies who came wrongfully against them, but to fight
Seven thousand. . .In the Greek it is six thousand.  But then three
thousand of them had no arms.  1 Mac. 4.6.
8:17. Setting before their eyes the injury they had unjustly done the
holy place, and also the injury they had done to the city, which had
been shamefully abused, besides their destroying the ordinances of the
8:18. For, said he, they trust in their weapons, and in their boldness:
but we trust in the Almighty Lord, who at a beck can utterly destroy
both them that come against us, and the whole world.
8:19. Moreover, he put them in mind also of the helps their fathers had
received from God:  and how, under Sennacherib, a hundred and
eighty-five thousand had been destroyed.
8:20. And of the battle that they had fought against the Galatians, in
Babylonia; how they, being in all but six thousand, when it came to the
point, and the Macedonians, their companions, were at a stand, slew a
hundred and twenty thousand, because of the help they had from heaven,
and for this they received many favours.
Galatians. . .That is, the Gauls, who having ravaged Italy and Greece,
poured themselves in upon Asia, in immense multitudes, where also they
founded the kingdom of Galatia or Gallo Graecia.
8:21. With these words they were greatly encouraged and disposed even
to die for the laws and their country.
8:22. So he appointed his brethren captains over each division of his
army; Simon, and Joseph, and Jonathan, giving to each one fifteen
hundred men.
8:23. And after the holy book had been read to them by Esdras, and he
had given them for a watchword, The help of God:  himself leading the
first band, he joined battle with Nicanor:
8:24. And the Almighty being their helper, they slew above nine
thousand men:  and having wounded and disabled the greater part of
Nicanor's army, they obliged them to fly.
Above nine thousand. . .Viz., including the three thousand slain in the
8:25. And they took the money of them that came to buy them, and they
pursued them on every side.
8:26. But they came back for want of time:  for it was the day before
the sabbath:  and therefore they did not continue the pursuit.
8:27. But when they had gathered together their arms and their spoils,
they kept the sabbath:  blessing the Lord who had delivered them that
day, distilling the beginning of mercy upon them.
8:28. Then after the sabbath they divided the spoils to the feeble and
the orphans, and the widows, and the rest they took for themselves and
their servants.
8:29. When this was done, and they had all made a common supplication,
they besought the merciful Lord, to be reconciled to his servants unto
8:30. Moreover, they slew above twenty thousand of them that were with
Timotheus and Bacchides, who fought against them, and they made
themselves masters of the high strong holds:  and they divided amongst
them many spoils, giving equal portions to the feeble, the fatherless,
and the widows; yea, and the aged also
8:31. And when they had carefully gathered together their arms, they
laid them all up in convenient places, and the residue of their spoils
they carried to Jerusalem:
8:32. They slew also Philarches, who was with Timotheus, a wicked man,
who had many ways afflicted the Jews.
8:33. And when they kept the feast of the victory at Jerusalem, they
burnt Callisthenes, that had set fire to the holy gates, who had taken
refuge in a certain house, rendering to him a worthy reward for his
8:34. But as for that most wicked man, Nicanor, who had brought a
thousand merchants to the sale of the Jews,
8:35. Being, through the help of the Lord, brought down by them, of
whom he had made no account, laying aside his garment of glory, fleeing
through the midland country, he came alone to Antioch, being rendered
very unhappy by the destruction of his army.
Laying aside his garment of glory. . .That is, his splendid apparel,
which he wore through ostentation; he now throws it off, lest he should
be known on his flight.
8:36. And he that had promised to levy the tribute for the Romans, by
the means of the captives of Jerusalem, now professed that the Jews had
God for their protector, and therefore they could not be hurt, because
they followed the laws appointed by him.
2 Machabees Chapter 9
The wretched end, and fruitless repentance of king Antiochus.
9:1. At that time Antiochus returned with dishonour out of Persia.
9:2. For he had entered into the city called Persepolis, and attempted
to rob the temple, and to oppress the city, but the multitude running
together to arms, put them to flight:  and so it fell out that Antiochus
being put to flight, returned with disgrace.
Persepolis. . .Otherwise called Elymais.
9:3. Now when he was come about Ecbatana, he received the news of what
had happened to Nicanor and Timotheus.
9:4. And swelling with anger, he thought to revenge upon the Jews the
injury done by them that had put him to flight.  And therefore he
commanded his chariot to be driven, without stopping in his journey,
the judgment of heaven urging him forward, because he had spoken so
proudly, that he would come to Jerusalem, and make it a common burying
place of the Jews.
9:5. But the Lord, the God of Israel, that seeth all things, struck him
with an incurable and an invisible plague.  For as soon as he had ended
these words, a dreadful pain in his bowels came upon him, and bitter
torments of the inner parts.
9:6. And indeed very justly, seeing he had tormented the bowels of
others with many and new torments, albeit he by no means ceased from
9:7. Moreover, being filled with pride, breathing out fire in his rage
against the Jews, and commanding the matter to be hastened, it happened
as he was going with violence, that he fell from the chariot, so that
his limbs were much pained by a grievous bruising of the body.
9:8. Thus he that seemed to himself to command even the waves of the
sea, being proud above the condition of man, and to weigh the heights
of the mountains in a balance, now being cast down to the ground, was
carried in a litter, bearing witness to the manifest power of God in
9:9. So that worms swarmed out of the body of this man, and whilst he
lived in sorrow and pain, his flesh fell off, and the filthiness of his
smell was noisome to the army.
9:10. And the man that thought a little before he could reach to the
stars of heaven, no man could endure to carry, for the intolerable
9:11. And by this means, being brought from his great pride, he began
to come to the knowledge of himself, being admonished by the scourge of
God, his pains increasing every moment.
9:12. And when he himself could not now abide his own stench, he spoke
thus:  It is just to be subject to God, and that a mortal man should not
equal himself to God.
9:13. Then this wicked man prayed to the Lord, of whom he was not like
to obtain mercy.
Of whom he was not like to obtain mercy. . .Because his repentance was
not for the offence committed against God:  but barely on account of his
present sufferings.
9:14. And the city, to which he was going in haste to lay it even with
the ground, and to make it a common burying place, he now desireth to
9:15. And the Jews, whom he said he would not account worthy to be so
much as buried, but would give them up to be devoured by the birds and
wild beasts, and would utterly destroy them with their children, he now
promiseth to make equal with the Athenians.
9:16. The holy temple also, which before he had spoiled, he promised to
adorn with goodly gifts, and to multiply the holy vessels, and to allow
out of his revenues the charges pertaining to the sacrifices.
9:17. Yea also, that he would become a Jew himself, and would go
through every place of the earth, and declare the power of God.
9:18. But his pains not ceasing, (for the just judgment of God was come
upon him) despairing of life, he wrote to the Jews, in the manner of a
supplication, a letter in these words:
9:19. To his very good subjects the Jews, Antiochus, king and ruler,
wisheth much health, and welfare, and happiness.
9:20. If you and your children are well, and if all matters go with you
to your mind, we give very great thanks.
9:21. As for me, being infirm, but yet kindly remembering you,
returning out of the places of Persia, and being taken with a grievous
disease, I thought it necessary to take care for the common good:
9:22. Not distrusting my life, but having great hope to escape the
9:23. But considering that my father also, at what time he led an army
into the higher countries, appointed who should reign after him:
9:24. To the end that if any thing contrary to expectation should fall
out, or any bad tidings should be brought, they that were in the
countries, knowing to whom the whole government was left, might not be
9:25. Moreover, considering that neighbouring princes, and borderers,
wait for opportunities, and expect what shall be the event, I have
appointed my son, Antiochus, king, whom I often recommended to many of
you, when I went into the higher provinces:  and I have written to him
what I have joined here below.
9:26. I pray you, therefore, and request of you, that, remembering
favours both public and private, you will every man of you continue to
be faithful to me and to my son.
9:27. For I trust that he will behave with moderation and humanity, and
following my intentions, will be gracious unto you.
9:28. Thus the murderer and blasphemer being grievously struck, as
himself had treated others, died a miserable death in a strange
country, among the mountains.
9:29. But Philip, that was brought up with him, carried away his body:
and out of fear of the son of Antiochus, went into Egypt to Ptolemee
2 Machabees Chapter 10
The purification of the temple and city.  Other exploits of Judas.  His
victory over Timotheus.
10:1. But Machabeus, and they that were with him, by the protection of
the Lord, recovered the temple and the city again.
10:2. But he threw down the altars which the heathens had set up in the
streets, as also the temples of the idols.
10:3. And having purified the temple, they made another altar:  and
taking fire out of the fiery stones, they offered sacrifices after two
years, and set forth incense, and lamps, and the loaves of proposition.
10:4. And when they had done these things, they besought the Lord,
lying prostrate on the ground, that they might no more fall into such
evils; but if they should at any time sin, that they might be chastised
by him more gently, and not be delivered up to barbarians and
blasphemous men.
10:5. Now upon the same day that the temple had been polluted by the
strangers on the very same day it was cleansed again; to wit, on the
five and twentieth day of the month of Casleu.
10:6. And they kept eight days with joy, after the manner of the feast
of the tabernacles, remembering that not long before they had kept the
feast of the tabernacles when they were in the mountains, and in dens
like wild beasts.
10:7. Therefore they now carried boughs and green branches and palms,
for him that had given them good success in cleansing his place.
10:8. And they ordained by a common statute, and decree, that all the
nation of the Jews should keep those days every year.
10:9. And this was the end of Antiochus, that was called the
Illustrious.
10:10. But now we will repeat the acts of Eupator, the son of that
wicked Antiochus, abridging the account of the evils that happened in
10:11. For when he was come to the crown, he appointed over the affairs
of his realm one Lysias, general of the army of Phenicia and Syria.
10:12. For Ptolemee, that was called Macer, was determined to be
strictly just to the Jews and especially by reason of the wrong that
had been done them, and to deal peaceably with them.
10:13. But being accused for this to Eupator by his friends, and being
oftentimes called traitor, because he had left Cyprus, which Philometor
had committed to him, and coming over to Antiochus the Illustrious, had
revolted also from him, he put an end to his life by poison.
10:14. But Gorgias, who was governor of the holds, taking with him the
strangers, often fought against the Jews.
10:15. And the Jews that occupied the most commodious holds, received
those that were driven out of Jerusalem, and attempted to make war.
The Jews, etc. . .He speaks of them that had fallen from their religion,
and were enemies of their country, who joining with the Idumeans or
Edomites, kept possession of the strong holds, and from thence annoyed
their countrymen.
10:16. Then they that were with Machabeus, beseeching the Lord by
prayers to be their helper, made a strong attack upon the strong holds
of the Idumeans:
10:17. And assaulting them with great force, won the holds, killed them
that came in the way, and slew altogether no fewer than twenty
10:18. And whereas some were fled into very strong towers, having all
manner of provision to sustain a siege,
10:19. Machabeus left Simon and Joseph, and Zacheus, and them that were
with them, in sufficient number to besiege them, and departed to those
expeditions which urged more.
10:20. Now they that were with Simon, being led with covetousness, were
persuaded for the sake of money by some that were in the towers:  and
taking seventy thousand didrachmas, let some of them escape.
10:21. But when it was told Machabeus what was done, he assembled the
rulers of the people, and accused those men that they had sold their
brethren for money, having let their adversaries escape.
10:22. So he put these traitors to death, and forthwith took the two
10:23. And having good success in arms, and all things he took in hand,
he slew more than twenty thousand in the two holds.
10:24. But Timotheus, who before had been overcome by the Jews, having
called together a multitude of foreign troops, and assembled horsemen
out of Asia, came as though he would take Judea by force of arms.
10:26. But Machabeus, and they that were with him, when he drew near,
prayed to the Lord, sprinkling earth upon their heads, and girding
their loins with haircloth,
10:26. And lying prostrate at the foot of the altar, besought him to be
merciful to them, and to be an enemy to their enemies, and an adversary
to their adversaries, as the law saith.
10:27. And so after prayer taking their arms, they went forth further
from the city, and when they were come very near the enemies they
10:28. But as soon as the sun was risen both sides joined battle:  the
one part having, with their valour, the Lord for a surety of victory,
and success:  but the other side making their rage their leader in
10:29. But when they were in the heat of the engagement, there appeared
to the enemies from heaven five men upon horses, comely, with golden
bridles, conducting the Jews:
10:30. Two of them took Machabeus between them, and covered him on
every side with their arms, and kept him safe; but cast darts and
fireballs against the enemy, so that they fell down, being both
confounded with blindness, and filled with trouble.
10:31. And there were slain twenty thousand five hundred, and six
hundred horsemen.
10:32. But Timotheus fled into Gazara, a strong hold where Chereas was
10:33. Then Machabeus, and they that were with him cheerfully laid
siege to the fortress four days.
10:34. But they that were within, trusting to the strength of the
place, blasphemed exceedingly, and cast forth abominable words.
10:35. But when the fifth day appeared, twenty young men of them that
were with Machabeus, inflamed in their minds, because of the blasphemy,
approached manfully to the wall, and pushing forward with fierce
courage, got up upon it:
10:36. Moreover, others also getting up after them, went to set fire to
the towers and the gates, and to burn the blasphemers alive.
10:37. And having for two days together pillaged and sacked the
fortress, they killed Timotheus, who was found hid in a certain place:
they slew also his brother Chereas, and Apollophanes.
Timotheus. . .This man, who was killed at the taking of Gazara, is
different from that Timotheus who is mentioned in the fifth chapter of
the first book of Machabees, and of whom there is mention in the
following chapter.
10:38. And when this was done, they blessed the Lord with hymns and
thanksgiving, who had done great things in Israel, and given them the
2 Machabees Chapter 11
Lysias is overthrown by Judas.  He sues for peace.
11:1. A short time after this Lysias, the king's lieutenant, and
cousin, and who had chief charge over all the affairs, being greatly
displeased with what had happened,
11:2. Gathered together fourscore thousand men, and all the horsemen,
and came against the Jews, thinking to take the city, and make it a
habitation of the Gentiles:
11:3. And to make a gain of the temple, as of the other temples of the
Gentiles and to set the high priesthood to sale every year:
11:4. Never considering the power of God, but puffed up in mind, and
trusting in the multitude of his foot soldiers, and the thousands of
his horsemen, and his fourscore elephants.
11:5. So he came into Judea, and approaching to Bethsura, which was in
a narrow place, the space of five furlongs from Jerusalem, he laid
siege to that fortress.
11:6. But when Machabeus, and they that were with him, understood that
the strong holds were besieged, they and all the people besought the
Lord with lamentations and tears, that he would send a good angel to
save Israel.
11:7. Then Machabeus himself first taking his arms, exhorted the rest
to expose themselves together with him, to the danger, and to succour
their brethren.
11:8. And when they were going forth together with a willing mind,
there appeared at Jerusalem a horseman going before them in white
clothing, with golden armour, shaking a spear.
11:9. Then they all together blessed the merciful Lord, and took great
courage:  being ready to break through not only men, but also the
fiercest beasts, and walls of iron.
11:10. So they went on courageously, having a helper from heaven, and
the Lord, who shewed mercy to them.
11:11. And rushing violently upon the enemy, like lions, they slew of
them eleven thousand footmen, and one thousand six hundred horsemen:
11:12. And put all the rest to flight; and many of them being wounded,
escaped naked:  Yea, and Lysias himself fled away shamefully, and
11:13. And as he was a man of understanding, considering with himself
the loss he had suffered, and perceiving that the Hebrews could not be
overcome, because they relied upon the help of the Almighty God, he
sent to them:
11:14. And promised that he would agree to all things that are just,
and that he would persuade the king to be their friend.
11:15. Then Machabeus consented to the request of Lysias, providing for
the common good in all things; and whatsoever Machabeus wrote to
Lysias, concerning the Jews, the king allowed of.
11:16. For there were letters written to the Jews from Lysias, to this
effect:  Lysias, to the people of the Jews, greeting.
11:17. John, and Abesalom, who were sent from you, delivering your
writings, requested that I would accomplish those things which were
signified by them.
11:18. Therefore whatsoever things could be reported to the king,
I have represented to him:  and he hath granted as much as the matter
11:19. If, therefore, you will keep yourselves loyal in affairs,
hereafter also I will endeavour to be a means of your good.
11:20. But as concerning other particulars, I have given orders by word
both to these, and to them that are sent by me, to commune with you.
11:21. Fare ye well.  In the year one hundred and forty-eight, the four
and twentieth day of the month of Dioscorus.
In the year 148. . .Viz., according to the computation followed by the
Greeks; which was different from that of the Hebrews, followed by the
writer of the first book of Machabees.  However, by this date, as well
as by other circumstances, it appears that the expedition of Lysias,
mentioned in this chapter, is different from that which is recorded,
11:22. But the king's letter contained these words King Antiochus to
Lysias, his brother, greeting.
11:23. Our father being translated amongst the gods we are desirous
that they that are in our realm should live quietly, and apply
themselves diligently to their own concerns.
11:24. And we have heard that the Jews would not consent to my father
to turn to the rites of the Greeks but that they would keep to their
own manner of living and therefore that they request us to allow them
to live after their own laws.
11:25. Wherefore being desirous that this nation also should be at
rest, we have ordained and decreed, that the temple should be restored
to them, and that they may live according to the custom of their
11:26. Thou shalt do well, therefore, to send to them, and grant them
peace, that our pleasure being known, they may be of good comfort, and
look to their own affairs.
11:27. But the king's letter to the Jews was in this manner:  King
Antiochus to the senate of the Jews, and to the rest of the Jews,
11:28. If you are well, you are as we desire:  we ourselves also are
11:29. Menelaus came to us, saying that you desired to come down to
your countrymen, that are with us.
11:30. We grant, therefore, a safe conduct to all that come and go,
until the thirtieth day of the month of Xanthicus,
11:31. That the Jews may use their own kind of meats, and their own
laws, as before:  and that none of them any manner of ways be molested
for things which have been done by ignorance.
11:32. And we have sent also Menelaus to speak to you.
11:33. Fare ye well.  In the year one hundred and forty-eight, the
fifteenth day of the month of Xanthicus.
11:34. The Romans also sent them a letter, to this effect:  Quintus
Memmius, and Titus Manilius, ambassadors of the Romans, to the people
of the Jews, greeting.
11:35. Whatsoever Lysias, the king's cousin, hath granted to you, we
also have granted.
11:36. But touching such things as he thought should be referred to the
king, after you have diligently conferred among yourselves, send some
one forthwith, that we may decree as it is convenient for you:  for we
are going to Antioch.
11:37. And therefore make haste to write back, that we may know of what
mind you are.
11:38. Fare ye well.  In the year one hundred and forty-eight, the
fifteenth day of the month of Xanthicus.
2 Machabees Chapter 12
The Jews are still molested by their neighbours.  Judas gains divers
victories over them.  He orders sacrifice and prayers for the dead.
12:1. When these covenants were made, Lysias went to the king, and the
Jews gave themselves to husbandry.
12:2. But they that were behind, viz.  Timotheus, and Apollonius, the
son of Genneus, also Hieronymus, and Demophon, and besides them
Nicanor, the governor of Cyprus, would not suffer them to live in
peace, and to be quiet.
12:3. The men of Joppe also were guilty of this kind of wickedness:
they desired the Jews, who dwelt among them, to go with their wives and
children into the boats, which they had prepared, as though they had no
enmity to them.
12:4. Which when they had consented to, according to the common decree
of the city, suspecting nothing, because of the peace:  when they were
gone forth into the deep, they drowned no fewer than two hundred of
12:5. But as soon as Judas heard of this cruelty done to his
countrymen, he commanded the men that were with him:  and after having
called upon God, the just judge,
12:6. He came against those murderers of his brethren, and set the
haven on fire in the night, burnt the boats, and slew with the sword
them that escaped from the fire.
12:7. And when he had done these things in this manner, he departed as
if he would return again, and root out all the Joppites.
12:8. But when he understood that the men of Jamnia also designed to do
in like manner to the Jews that dwelt among them,
12:9. He came upon the Jamnites also by night, and set the haven on
fire, with the ships, so that the light of the fire was seen at
Jerusalem, two hundred and forty furlongs off.
12:10. And when they were now gone from thence nine furlongs, and were
marching towards Timotheus, five thousand footmen, and five hundred
horsemen of the Arabians, set upon them.
12:11. And after a hard fight, in which, by the help of God, they got
the victory, the rest of the Arabians being overcome, besought Judas
for peace, promising to give him pastures, and to assist him in other
12:12. And Judas thinking that they might be profitable indeed in many
things, promised them peace, and after having joined hands, they
departed to their tents.
12:13. He also laid siege to a certain strong city, encompassed with
bridges and walls, and inhabited by multitudes of different nations,
the name of which is Casphin.
12:14. But they that were within it, trusting in the strength of the
walls, and the provision of victuals, behaved in a more negligent
manner, and provoked Judas with railing and blaspheming, and uttering
such words as were not to be spoken.
12:15. But Machabeus calling upon the great Lord of the world, who
without any rams or engines of war threw down the walls of Jericho, in
the time of Josue, fiercely assaulted the walls.
Rams. . .That is, engines for battering walls, etc., which were used in
sieges in those times.
12:16. And having taken the city by the will of the Lord, he made an
unspeakable slaughter, so that a pool adjoining, of two furlongs broad,
seemed to run with the blood of the slain.
12:17. From thence they departed seven hundred and fifty furlongs, and
came to Characa, to the Jews that are called Tubianites.
12:18. But as for Timotheus, they found him not in those places, for
before he had dispatched any thing he went back, having left a very
strong garrison in a certain hold:
12:19. But Dositheus, and Sosipater, who were captains with Machabeus,
slew them that were left by Timotheus in the hold, to the number of ten
thousand men.
12:20. And Machabeus having set in order about him six thousand men,
and divided them by bands, went forth against Timotheus, who had with
him a hundred and twenty thousand footmen, and two thousand five
hundred horsemen.
12:21. Now when Timotheus had knowledge of the coming of Judas, he sent
the women and children, and the other baggage, before him into a
fortress, called Carnion:  for it was impregnable, and hard to come at,
by reason of the straitness of the places.
12:22. But when the first band of Judas came in sight, the enemies were
struck with fear, by the presence of God, who seeth all things, and
they were put to flight one from another, so that they were often
thrown down by their own companions, and wounded with the strokes of
their own swords.
12:23. But Judas pursued them close, punishing the profane, of whom he
slew thirty thousand men.
12:24. And Timotheus himself fell into the hands of the band of
Dositheus and Sosipater, and with many prayers he besought them to let
him go with his life, because he had the parents and brethren of many
of the Jews, who, by his death, might happen to be deceived.
12:25. And when he had given his faith that he would restore them
according to the agreement, they let him go without hurt, for the
saving of their brethren.
12:26. Then Judas went away to Carnion, where he slew five and twenty
thousand persons.
12:27. And after he had put to flight and destroyed these, he removed
his army to Ephron, a strong city, wherein there dwelt a multitude of
divers nations:  and stout young men standing upon the walls, made a
vigorous resistance:  and in this place there were many engines of war,
and a provision of darts.
12:28. But when they had invocated the Almighty, who with his power
breaketh the strength of the enemies, they took the city:  and slew five
and twenty thousand of them that were within.
12:29. From thence they departed to Scythopolis, which lieth six
hundred furlongs from Jerusalem.
Scythopolis. . .Formerly called Bethsan.
12:30. But the Jews that were among the Scythopolitans testifying that
they were used kindly by them, and that even in the times of their
adversity they had treated them with humanity:
12:31. They gave them thanks, exhorting them to be still friendly to
their nation, and so they came to Jerusalem, the feast of the weeks
being at hand.
12:32. And after Pentecost they marched against Gorgias, the governor
12:33. And he came out with three thousand footmen and four hundred
12:34. And when they had joined battle, it happened that a few of the
Jews were slain.
12:35. But Dositheus, a horseman, one of Bacenor's band, a valiant man,
took hold of Gorgias:  and when he would have taken him alive, a certain
horseman of the Thracians came upon him, and cut off his shoulder:  and
so Gorgias escaped to Maresa.
12:36. But when they that were with Esdrin had fought long, and were
weary, Judas called upon the Lord to be their helper, and leader of the
12:37. Then beginning in his own language, and singing hymns with a
loud voice, he put Gorgias's soldiers to flight.
12:38. So Judas having gathered together his army, came into the city
Odollam:  and when the seventh day came, they purified themselves
according to the custom, and kept the sabbath in the same place.
12:39. And the day following Judas came with his company, to take away
the bodies of them that were slain, and to bury them with their
kinsmen, in the sepulchres of their fathers.
12:40. And they found under the coats of the slain, some of the
donaries of the idols of Jamnia, which the law forbiddeth to the Jews:
so that all plainly saw, that for this cause they were slain.
Of the donaries, etc. . .That is, of the votive offerings, which had
been hung up in the temples of the idols, which they had taken away
when they burnt the port of Jamnia, ver. 9., contrary to the
prohibition of the law, Deut. 7.25.
12:41. Then they all blessed the just judgment of the Lord, who had
discovered the things that were hidden.
12:42. And so betaking themselves to prayers, they besought him, that
the sin which had been committed might be forgotten.  But the most
valiant Judas exhorted the people to keep themselves from sin,
forasmuch as they saw before their eyes what had happened, because of
the sins of those that were slain.
12:43. And making a gathering, he sent twelve thousand drachms of
silver to Jerusalem for sacrifice to be offered for the sins of the
dead, thinking well and religiously concerning the resurrection.
12:44. (For if he had not hoped that they that were slain should rise
again, it would have seemed superfluous and vain to pray for the dead,)
12:45. And because he considered that they who had fallen asleep with
godliness, had great grace laid up for them.
With godliness. . .Judas hoped that these men who died fighting for the
cause of God and religion, might find mercy:  either because they might
be excused from mortal sin by ignorance; or might have repented of
their sin, at least at their death.
12:46. It is therefore a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the
dead, that they may be loosed from sins.
It is therefore a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the
dead. . .Here is an evident and undeniable proof of the practice of
praying for the dead under the old law, which was then strictly observed
by the Jews, and consequently could not be introduced at that time by
Judas, their chief and high priest, if it had not been always their
2 Machabees Chapter 13
Antiochus and Lysias again invade Judea.  Menelaus is put to death.  The
king's great army is worsted twice.  The peace is renewed.
13:1. In the year one hundred and forty-nine, Judas understood that
Antiochus Eupator was coming with a multitude against Judea,
13:2. And with him Lysias, the regent, who had charge over the affairs
of the realm, having with him a hundred and ten thousand footmen, five
thousand horsemen, twenty-two elephants, and three hundred chariots.
A hundred and ten thousand, etc. . .The difference between the numbers
here set down, and those recorded, 1 Mac. 4, is easily accounted for;
if we consider that such armies as these are liable to be at one time
more numerous than at another; either by sending away large
detachments, or being diminished by sickness; or increased by receiving
fresh supplies of troops, according to different exigencies or
occurrences.
13:3. Menelaus also joined himself with them:  and with great
deceitfulness besought Antiochus, not for the welfare of his country,
but in hopes that he should be appointed chief ruler.
13:4. But the King of kings stirred up the mind of Antiochus against
the sinner, and upon Lysias suggesting that he was the cause of all the
evils, he commanded (as the custom is with them) that he should be
apprehended and put to death in the same place.
13:5. Now there was in that place a tower fifty cubits high, having a
heap of ashes on every side:  this had a prospect steep down.
13:6. From thence he commanded the sacrilegious wretch to be thrown
down into the ashes, all men thrusting him forward unto death.
13:7. And by such a law it happened that Menelaus the transgressor of
the law, was put to death:  not having so much as burial in the earth.
13:8. And indeed very justly, for insomuch as he had committed many
sins against the altar of God, the fire and ashes of which were holy:
he was condemned to die in ashes.
13:9. But the king, with his mind full of rage, came on to shew himself
worse to the Jews than his father was.
13:10. Which when Judas understood, he commanded the people to call
upon the Lord day and night, that as he had always done, so now also he
would help them:
13:11. Because they were afraid to be deprived of the law, and of their
country, and of the holy temple:  and that he would not suffer the
people, that had of late taken breath for a little while, to be again
in subjection to blasphemous nations.
13:12. So when they had all done this together, and had craved mercy of
the Lord with weeping and fasting, lying prostrate on the ground for
three days continually, Judas exhorted them to make themselves ready.
13:13. But he, with the ancients, determined before the king should
bring his army into Judea, and make himself master of the city, to go
out, and to commit the event of the thing to the judgment of the Lord.
13:14. So committing all to God, the Creator of the world, and having
exhorted his people to fight manfully, and to stand up even to death
for the laws, the temple, the city, their country, and citizens:  he
placed his army about Modin.
13:15. And having given his company for a watchword, The victory of
God, with most valiant chosen young men, he set upon the king's quarter
by night, and slew four thousand men in the camp, and the greatest of
the elephants, with them that had been upon him,
13:16. And having filled the camp of the enemies with exceeding great
fear and tumult, they went off with good success.
13:17. Now this was done at the break of day, by the protection and
help of the Lord.
13:18. But the king having taken a taste of the hardiness of the Jews,
attempted to take the strong places by policy:
13:19. And he marched with his army to Bethsura, which was a strong
hold of the Jews:  but he was repulsed, he failed, he lost his men.
13:20. Now Judas sent necessaries to them that were within
13:21. But Rhodocus, one of the Jews' army, disclosed the secrets to
the enemies, so he was sought out, and taken up, and put in prison.
13:22. Again the king treated with them that were in Bethsura:  gave his
right hand:  took theirs:  and went away.
13:23. He fought with Judas:  and was overcome.  And when he understood
that Philip, who had been left over the affairs, had rebelled at
Antioch, he was in a consternation of mind, and entreating the Jews,
and yielding to them, he swore to all things that seemed reasonable,
and, being reconciled, offered sacrifice, honoured the temple, and left
13:24. He embraced Machabeus, and made him governor and prince from
Ptolemais unto the Gerrenians.
13:25. But when he was come to Ptolemais, the men of that city were
much displeased with the conditions of the peace, being angry for fear
they should break the covenant.
13:26. Then Lysias went up to the judgment seat, and set forth the
reason, and appeased the people, and returned to Antioch:  and thus
matters went with regard to the king's coming and his return.
2 Machabees Chapter 14
Demetrius challenges the kingdom.  Alcimus applies to him to be made
high priest:  Nicanor is sent into Judea:  his dealings with Judas:  his
threats.  The history of Razias.
14:1. But after the space of three years Judas, and they that were with
him, understood that Demetrius, the son of Seleucus, was come up with a
great power, and a navy by the haven of Tripolis, to places proper for
his purpose,
14:2. And had made himself master of the countries against Antiochus,
and his general, Lysias.
14:3. Now one Alcimus, who had been chief priest, but had wilfully
defiled himself in the time of mingling with the heathens, seeing that
there was no safety for him, nor access to the altar,
Now Alcimus, who had been chief priest. . .This Alcimus was of the stock
of Aaron, but for his apostasy here mentioned was incapable of the high
priesthood, but king Antiochus Eupator appointed him in place of the
high priest, (see above, 1 Mac. chap. 7., ver. 9,) as Menelaus had been
before him, set up by Antiochus (above chap. 4.), yet neither of them
were truly high priests; for the true high priesthood was amongst the
Machabees, who were also of the stock of Aaron, and had strictly held
their religion, and were ordained according to the rites commanded in
the law of Moses.--Ibid.  Mingling. . .with the heathens; that is, in
their idolatrous worship.
14:4. Came to king Demetrius in the year one hundred and fifty,
presenting unto him a crown of gold, and a palm, and besides these,
some boughs that seemed to belong to the temple.  And that day indeed he
held his peace.
14:5. But having gotten a convenient time to further his madness, being
called to counsel by Demetrius, and asked what the Jews relied upon,
and what were their counsels,
14:6. He answered thereunto:  They among the Jews that are called
Assideans, of whom Judas Machabeus is captain, nourish wars, and raise
seditions, and will not suffer the realm to be in peace.
14:7. For I also being deprived of my ancestor's glory (I mean of the
high priesthood) am now come hither:
14:8. Principally indeed out of fidelity to the king's interests, but
in the next place also to provide for the good of my countrymen:  for
all our nation suffereth much from the evil proceedings of these men.
14:9. Wherefore, O king, seeing thou knowest all these things, take
care, I beseech thee, both of the country, and of our nation, according
to thy humanity which is known to all men.
14:10. For as long as Judas liveth it is not possible that the state
should be quiet.
14:11. Now when this man had spoken to this effect the rest also of the
king's friends, who were enemies of Judas, incensed Demetrius against
14:12. And forthwith he sent Nicanor, the commander over the elephants,
governor into Judea:
14:13. Giving him in charge, to take Judas himself:  and disperse all
them that were with him, and to make Alcimus the high priest of the
great temple.
14:14. Then the Gentiles who had fled out of Judea, from Judas, came to
Nicanor by flocks, thinking the miseries and calamities of the Jews to
be the welfare of their affairs.
14:15. Now when the Jews heard of Nicanor's coming, and that the
nations were assembled against them, they cast earth upon their heads,
and made supplication to him who chose his people to keep them for
ever, and who protected his portion by evident signs.
14:16. Then at the commandment of their captain, they forthwith removed
from the place where they were, and went to the town of Dessau, to meet
14:17. Now Simon, the brother of Judas, had joined battle with Nicanor:
but was frightened with the sudden coming of the adversaries.
14:18. Nevertheless Nicanor hearing of the valour of Judas's
companions, and the greatness of courage, with which they fought for
their country, was afraid to try the matter by the sword.
14:19. Wherefore he sent Posidonius, and Theodotius and Matthias before
to present and receive the right hands.
14:20. And when there had been a consultation thereupon, and the
captain had acquainted the multitude with it, they were all of one mind
to consent to covenants.
14:21. So they appointed a day upon which they might come together by
themselves:  and seats were brought out, and set for each one.
14:22. But Judas ordered armed men to be ready in convenient places,
lest some mischief might be suddenly practised by the enemies:  so they
made an agreeable conference.
14:23. And Nicanor abode in Jerusalem, and did no wrong, but sent away
the flocks of the multitudes that had been gathered together.
14:24. And Judas was always dear to him from the heart, and he was well
affected to the man.
14:25. And he desired him to marry a wife, and to have children.  So he
married:  he lived quietly, and they lived in common.
14:26. But Alcimus seeing the love they had one to another, and the
covenants, came to Demetrius, and told him that Nicanor had assented to
the foreign interest, for that he meant to make Judas, who was a
traitor to the kingdom, his successor.
14:27. Then the king, being in a rage, and provoked with this man's
wicked accusation, wrote to Nicanor, signifying that he was greatly
displeased with the covenant of friendship:  and that he commanded him
nevertheless to send Machabeus prisoner in all haste to Antioch.
14:28. When this was known, Nicanor was in a consternation, and took it
grievously that he should make void the articles that were agreed upon,
having received no injury from the man.
14:29. But because he could not oppose the king, he watched an
opportunity to comply with the orders
14:30. But when Machabeus perceived that Nicanor was more stern to him,
and that when they met together as usual he behaved himself in a rough
manner; and was sensible that this rough behaviour came not of good, he
gathered together a few of his men, and hid himself from Nicanor.
14:31. But he finding himself notably prevented by the man, came to the
great and holy temple:  and commanded the priests that were offering the
accustomed sacrifices, to deliver him the man.
14:32. And when they swore unto him, that they knew not where the man
was whom he sought, he stretched out his hand to the temple,
14:33. And swore, saying:  Unless you deliver Judas prisoner to me, I
will lay this temple of God even with the ground, and will beat down
the altar, and I will dedicate this temple to Bacchus.
14:34. And when he had spoken thus, he departed.  But the priests
stretching forth their hands to heaven, called upon him that was ever
the defender of their nation, saying in this manner:
14:35. Thou, O Lord of all things, who wantest nothing, wast pleased
that the temple of thy habitation should be amongst us.
14:36. Therefore now, O Lord, the holy of all holies, keep this house
for ever undefiled, which was lately cleansed.
14:37. Now Razias, one of the ancients of Jerusalem, was accused to
Nicanor, a man that was a lover of the city, and of good report, who
for his kindness was called the father of the Jews.
14:38. This man, for a long time, had held fast his purpose of keeping
himself pure in the Jews' religion, and was ready to expose his body
and life, that he might persevere therein.
14:39. So Nicanor being willing to declare the hatred that he bore the
Jews, sent five hundred soldiers to take him.
14:40. For he thought by ensnaring him to hurt the Jews very much.
14:41. Now as the multitude sought to rush into his house, and to break
open the door, and to set fire to it, when he was ready to be taken, he
struck himself with his sword:
He struck himself, etc. . .St. Augustine, (Epist. 61, ad Dulcitium, et
lib. 2, cap. 23, ad Epist. 2, Gaud.) discussing this fact of Razias,
says, that the holy scripture relates it, but doth not praise it, as to
be admired or imitated, and that either it was not well done by him, or
at least not proper in this time of grace.
14:42. Choosing to die nobly rather than to fall into the hands of the
wicked, and to suffer abuses unbecoming his noble birth.
14:43. But whereas through haste he missed of giving a sure wound, and
the crowd was breaking into the doors, he ran boldly to the wall, and
manfully threw himself down to the crowd:
14:44. But they quickly making room for his fall, he came upon the
midst of the neck.
He came upon the midst of the neck. . .Venit per mediam cervicem.  In the
Greek it is keneona, which signifies a void place, where there is no
14:45. And as he had yet breath in him, being inflamed in mind, he
arose:  and while his blood ran down with a great stream, and he was
grievously wounded, he ran through the crowd:
14:46. And standing upon a steep rock, when he was now almost without
blood, grasping his bowels, with both hands he cast them upon the
throng, calling upon the Lord of life and spirit, to restore these to
him again:  and so he departed this life.
2 Machabees Chapter 15
Judas encouraged by a vision gains a glorious victory over Nicanor.  The
15:1. But when Nicanor understood that Judas was in the places of
Samaria, he purposed to set upon him with all violence, on the sabbath
15:2. And when the Jews that were constrained to follow him, said:  Do
not act so fiercely and barbarously, but give honour to the day that is
sanctified:  and reverence him that beholdeth all things:
15:3. That unhappy man asked, if there were a mighty One in heaven,
that had commanded the sabbath day to be kept.
15:4. And when they answered:  There is the living Lord himself in
heaven, the mighty One, that commanded the seventh day to be kept.
15:5. Then he said:  And I am mighty upon the earth, and I command to
take arms, and to do the king's business.  Nevertheless he prevailed not
to accomplish his design.
15:6. So Nicanor being puffed up with exceeding great pride, thought to
set up a public monument of his victory over Judas.
15:7. But Machabeus ever trusted with all hope that God would help
15:8. And he exhorted his people not to fear the coming of the nations,
but to remember the help they had before received from heaven, and now
to hope for victory from the Almighty.
15:9. And speaking to them out of the law, and the prophets, and withal
putting them in mind of the battles they had fought before, he made
them more cheerful:
15:10. Then after he had encouraged them, he shewed withal the
falsehood of the Gentiles, and their breach of oaths.
15:11. So he armed every one of them, not with defence of shield and
spear, but with very good speeches, and exhortations, and told them a
dream worthy to be believed, whereby he rejoiced them all.
15:12. Now the vision was in this manner.  Onias, who had been high
priest, a good and virtuous man, modest in his looks, gentle in his
manners, and graceful in speech, and who from a child was exercised in
virtues holding up his hands, prayed for all the people of the Jews:
15:13. After this there appeared also another man, admirable for age,
and glory, and environed with great beauty and majesty:
15:14. Then Onias answering, said:  This is a lover of his brethren, and
of the people of Israel:  this is he that prayeth much for the people,
and for all the holy city, Jeremias, the prophet of God.
15:15. Whereupon Jeremias stretched forth his right hand, and gave to
Judas a sword of gold, saying:
15:16. Take this holy sword, a gift from God, wherewith thou shalt
overthrow the adversaries of my people Israel.
15:17. Thus being exhorted with the words of Judas, which were very
good, and proper to stir up the courage, and strengthen the hearts of
the young men, they resolved to fight, and to set upon them manfully:
that valour might decide the matter, because the holy city, and the
temple were in danger.
15:18. For their concern was less for their wives, and children, and
for their brethren, and kinsfolks:  but their greatest and principal
fear was for the holiness of the temple.
15:19. And they also that were in the city, had no little concern for
them that were to be engaged in battle.
15:20. And now when all expected what judgment would be given, and the
enemies were at hand, and the army was set in array, the beasts and the
horsemen ranged in convenient places,
15:21. Machabeus considering the coming of the multitude, and the
divers preparations of armour, and the fierceness of the beasts,
stretching out his hands to heaven, called upon the Lord, that worketh
wonders, who giveth victory to them that are worthy, not according to
the power of their arms, but according as it seemeth good to him.
15:22. And in his prayer he said after this manner:  Thou, O Lord, who
didst send thy angel in the time of Ezechias, king of Juda, and didst
kill a hundred and eighty-five thousand of the army of Sennacherib:
15:23. Send now also, O Lord of heaven, thy good angel before us, for
the fear and dread of the greatness of thy arm,
15:24. That they may be afraid, who come with blasphemy against thy
holy people.  And thus he concluded his prayer.
15:25. But Nicanor, and they that were with him came forward, with
trumpets and songs.
15:26. But Judas, and they that were with him, encountered them,
calling upon God by prayers:
15:27. So fighting with their hands, but praying to the Lord with their
hearts, they slew no less than five and thirty thousand, being greatly
cheered with the presence of God.
15:28. And when the battle was over, and they were returning with joy,
they understood that Nicanor was slain in his armour.
15:29. Then making a shout, and a great noise, they blessed the
Almighty Lord in their own language.
15:30. And Judas, who was altogether ready, in body and mind, to die
for his countrymen, commanded that Nicanor's head, and his hand, with
the shoulder, should be cut off, and carried to Jerusalem.
15:31. And when he was come thither, having called together his
countrymen, and the priests to the altar, he sent also for them that
were in the castle,
15:32. And shewing them the head of Nicanor, and the wicked hand, which
he had stretched out, with proud boasts, against the holy house of the
Almighty God,
15:33. He commanded also, that the tongue of the wicked Nicanor should
be cut out, and given by pieces to birds, and the hand of the furious
man to be hanged up over against the temple.
15:34. Then all blessed the Lord of heaven, saying:  Blessed be he that
hath kept his own place undefiled.
15:35. And he hung up Nicanor's head in the top of the castle, that it
might be an evident and manifest sign of the help of God.
15:36. And they all ordained by a common decree, by no means to let
this day pass without solemnity:
15:37. But to celebrate the thirteenth day of the month of Adar, called
in the Syrian language, the day before Mardochias' day.
15:38. So these things being done with relation to Nicanor, and from
that time the city being possessed by the Hebrews, I also will here
make an end of my narration.
15:39. Which if I have done well, and as it becometh the history, it is
what I desired:  but if not so perfectly, it must be pardoned me.
If not so perfectly, etc. . .This is not said with regard to the truth
of the narration; but with regard to the style and manner of writing:
which in the sacred penmen is not always the most accurate.  See St.
Paul, 2 Cor. 11.6.
15:40. For as it is hurtful to drink always wine, or always water, but
pleasant to use sometimes the one, and sometimes the other:  so if the
speech be always nicely framed, it will not be grateful to the readers.
But here it shall be ended.
THE NEW TESTAMENT OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST
THE HOLY GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST ACCORDING TO SAINT MATTHEW
Saint Matthew, one of the twelve Apostles, who from being a publican,
that is, a taxgatherer, was called by our Saviour to the Apostleship:
in that profession his name is Levi.  (Luke 5.27, and Mark 2.14.)  He was
the first of the Evangelists that wrote the Gospel, and that in Hebrew
or Syro-Chaldaic which the Jews in Palestine spoke at that time.  The
original is not now extant; but it was translated in the time of the
Apostles into Greek, that version was of equal authority.  He wrote
about six years after the Lord's Ascension.
Matthew Chapter 1
The genealogy of Christ:  he is conceived and born of a virgin.
1:1. The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the
son of Abraham:
1:2. Abraham begot Isaac.  And Isaac begot Jacob.  And Jacob begot Judas
and his brethren.
1:3. And Judas begot Phares and Zara of Thamar.  And Phares begot Esron.
And Esron begot Aram.
1:4. And Aram begot Aminadab.  And Aminadab begot Naasson.  And Naasson
begot Salmon.
1:5. And Salmon begot Booz of Rahab.  And Booz begot Obed of Ruth.  And
Obed begot Jesse.
1:6. And Jesse begot David the king.  And David the king begot Solomon,
of her that had been the wife of Urias.
1:7. And Solomon begot Roboam.  And Roboam begot Abia.  And Abia begot
1:8. And Asa begot Josaphat.  And Josaphat begot Joram.  And Joram begot
1:9. And Ozias begot Joatham.  And Joatham begot Achaz.  And Achaz begot
1:10. And Ezechias begot Manasses.  And Manasses begot Amon.  And Amon
begot Josias.
1:11. And Josias begot Jechonias and his brethren in the transmigration
1:12. And after the transmigration of Babylon, Jechonias begot
Salathiel.  And Salathiel begot Zorobabel.
1:13. And Zorobabel begot Abiud.  And Abiud begot Eliacim.  And Eliacim
1:14. And Azor begot Sadoc.  And Sadoc begot Achim.  And Achim begot
1:15. And Eliud begot Eleazar.  And Eleazar begot Mathan.  And Mathan
begot Jacob.
1:16. And Jacob begot Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born
Jesus, who is called Christ.
The husband of Mary. . .The Evangelist gives us rather the pedigree of
St. Joseph, than that of the blessed Virgin, to conform to the custom
of the Hebrews, who in their genealogies took no notice of women; but
as they were near akin, the pedigree of the one sheweth that of the
1:17. So all the generations from Abraham to David, are fourteen
generations.  And from David to the transmigration of Babylon, are
fourteen generations:  and from the transmigration of Babylon to Christ
are fourteen generations.
1:18. Now the generation of Christ was in this wise.  When as his mother
Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found
with child, of the Holy Ghost.
1:19. Whereupon Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing
publicly to expose her, was minded to put her away privately.
1:20. But while he thought on these things, behold the Angel of the
Lord appeared to him in his sleep, saying:  Joseph, son of David, fear
not to take unto thee Mary thy wife, for that which is conceived in
her, is of the Holy Ghost.
1:21. And she shall bring forth a son:  and thou shalt call his name
Jesus.  For he shall save his people from their sins.
1:22. Now all this was done that it might be fulfilled which the Lord
spoke by the prophet, saying:
1:23. Behold a virgin shall be with child, and bring forth a son, and
they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with
1:24. And Joseph rising up from sleep, did as the angel of the Lord had
commanded him, and took unto him his wife.
1:25. And he knew her not till she brought forth her first born son:
and he called his name Jesus.
Till she brought forth her firstborn son. . .From these words Helvidius
and other heretics most impiously inferred that the blessed Virgin Mary
had other children besides Christ; but St. Jerome shews, by divers
examples, that this expression of the Evangelist was a manner of
speaking usual among the Hebrews, to denote by the word until, only
what is done, without any regard to the future.  Thus it is said,
Genesis 8. 6 and 7, that Noe sent forth a raven, which went forth, and
did not return till the waters were dried up on the earth.  That is, did
not return any more.  Also Isaias 46. 4, God says:  I am till you grow
old.  Who dare infer that God should then cease to be:  Also in the first
book of Machabees 5. 54, And they went up to mount Sion with joy and
gladness, and offered holocausts, because not one of them was slain
till they had returned in peace.  That is, not one was slain before or
after they had returned.  God saith to his divine Son:  Sit on my right
hand till I make thy enemies thy footstool.  Shall he sit no longer
after his enemies are subdued?  Yea and for all eternity.  St. Jerome
also proves by Scripture examples, that an only begotten son, was also
called firstborn, or first begotten:  because according to the law, the
firstborn males were to be consecrated to God; Sanctify unto me, saith
the Lord, every firstborn that openeth the womb among the children of
Israel, etc.  Ex. 13. 2.
Matthew Chapter 2
The offerings of the wise men:  the flight into Egypt:  the massacre of
the Innocents.
2:1. When Jesus therefore was born in Bethlehem of Juda, in the days of
king Herod, behold, there came wise men from the East to Jerusalem,
2:2. Saying:  Where is he that is born king of the Jews?  For we have
seen his star in the East, and are come to adore him.
2:3. And king Herod hearing this, was troubled, and all Jerusalem with
2:4. And assembling together all the chief priests and the scribes of
the people, he inquired of them where Christ should be born.
2:5. But they said to him:  In Bethlehem of Juda.  For so it is written
by the prophet:
2:6. And thou Bethlehem the land of Juda art not the least among the
princes of Juda:  for out of thee shall come forth the captain that
shall rule my people Israel.
2:7. Then Herod, privately calling the wise men learned diligently of
them the time of the star which appeared to them;
2:8. And sending them into Bethlehem, said:  Go and diligently inquire
after the child, and when you have found him, bring me word again, that
I also may come and adore him.
2:9. Who having heard the king, went their way; and behold the star
which they had seen in the East, went before them, until it came and
stood over where the child was.
2:10. And seeing the star they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.
2:11. And entering into the house, they found the child with Mary his
mother, and falling down they adored him:  and opening their treasures,
they offered him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
2:12. And having received an answer in sleep that they should not
return to Herod, they went back another way into their country.
2:13. And after they were departed, behold an angel of the Lord
appeared in sleep to Joseph, saying:  Arise, and take the child and his
mother, and fly into Egypt:  and be there until I shall tell thee.  For
it will come to pass that Herod will seek the child to destroy him.
2:14. Who arose, and took the child and his mother by night, and
retired into Egypt:  and he was there until the death of Herod:
2:15. That it might be fulfilled which the Lord spoke by the prophet,
saying:  Out of Egypt have I called my son.
2:16. Then Herod perceiving that he was deluded by the wise men, was
exceeding angry:  and sending killed all the menchildren that were in
Bethlehem, and in all the borders thereof, from two years old and
under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the
2:17. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremias the prophet,
2:18. A voice in Rama was heard, lamentation and great mourning; Rachel
bewailing her children, and would not be comforted, because they are
2:19. But when Herod was dead, behold an angel of the Lord appeared in
sleep to Joseph in Egypt,
2:20. Saying:  Arise, and take the child and his mother, and go into the
land of Israel.  For they are dead that sought the life of the child.
2:21. Who arose, and took the child and his mother, and came into the
land of Israel.
2:22. But hearing that Archclaus reigned in Judea in the room of Herod
his father, he was afraid to go thither:  and being warned in sleep
retired into the quarters of Galilee.
2:23. And coming he dwelt in a city called Nazareth:  that it might be
fulfilled which was said by the prophets:  That he shall be called a
Matthew Chapter 3
The preaching of John:  Christ is baptized.
3:1. And in those days cometh John the Baptist preaching in the desert
3:2. And saying:  Do penance:  for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
Do penance. . .Paenitentiam agite.  Which word, according to the use of
the scriptures and the holy fathers, does not only signify repentance
and amendment of life, but also punishing past sins by fasting, and
such like penitential exercises.
3:3. For this is he that was spoken of by Isaias the prophet, saying:  A
voice of one crying in the desert, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make
straight his paths.
3:4. And the same John had his garment of camel's hair, and a leathern
girdle about his loins:  and his meat was locusts and wild honey.
3:5. Then went out to him Jerusalem and all Judea, and all the country
about Jordan:
3:6. And were baptized by him in the Jordan, confessing their sins.
3:7. And seeing many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his
baptism, he said to them:  Ye brood of vipers, who hath shewed you to
flee from the wrath to come?
Pharisees and Sadducees. . .These were two sects among the Jews:  of
which the former were for the most part notorious hypocrites; the
latter, a kind of freethinkers in matters of religion.
3:8. Bring forth therefore fruit worthy of penance.
3:9. And think not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham for our
father.  For I tell you that God is able of these stones to raise up
children to Abraham.
3:10. For now the axe is laid to the root of the trees.  Every tree
therefore that doth not yield good fruit, shall be cut down, and cast
into the fire.
3:11. I indeed baptize you in water unto penance, but he that shall
come after me, is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear:
he shall baptize you in the Holy Ghost and fire.
3:12. Whose fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly cleanse his
floor and gather his wheat into the barn; but the chaff he will burn
with unquenchable fire.
3:13. Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to the Jordan, unto John, to be
baptized by him.
3:14. But John stayed him, saying:  I ought to be baptized by thee, and
comest thou to me?
3:15. And Jesus answering, said to him:  Suffer it to be so now.  For so
it becometh us to fulfil all justice.  Then he suffered him.
3:16. And Jesus being baptized, forthwith came out of the water:  and
lo, the heavens were opened to him:  and he saw the Spirit of God
descending as a dove, and coming upon him.
3:17. And behold a voice from heaven saying:  This is my beloved Son, in
whom I am well pleased.
Matthew Chapter 4
Christ's fast of forty days:  He is tempted.  He begins to preach, to
call disciples to him, and to work miracles.
4:1. Then Jesus was led by the spirit into the desert, to be tempted by
4:2. And when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, afterwards he
4:3. And the tempter coming said to him:  If thou be the Son of God,
command that these stones be made bread.
4:4. Who answered and said:  It is written, Not in bread alone doth man
live, but in every word that proceedeth from the mouth of God.
4:5. Then the devil took him up into the holy city, and set him upon
the pinnacle of the temple,
4:6. And said to him:  If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down, for
it is written:  That he hath given his angels charge over thee, and in
their hands shall they bear thee up, lest perhaps thou dash thy foot
against a stone.
4:7. Jesus said to him:  It is written again:  Thou shalt not tempt the
Lord thy God.
4:8. Again the devil took him up into a very high mountain, and shewed
him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them,
Shewed him, etc. . .That is, pointed out to him where each kingdom lay;
and set forth in words what was most glorious and admirable in each of
them.  Or also set before his eyes, as it were in a large map, a lively
representation of all those kingdoms.
4:9. And said to him:  All these will I give thee, if falling down thou
wilt adore me.
4:10. Then Jesus saith to him:  Begone, Satan:  for it is written:  The
Lord thy God shalt thou adore, and him only shalt thou serve.
4:11. Then the devil left him; and behold angels came and ministered to
4:12. And when Jesus had heard that John was delivered up, he retired
into Galilee:
4:13. And leaving the city Nazareth, he came and dwelt in Capharnaum on
the sea coast, in the borders of Zabulon and of Nephthalim;
4:14. That it might be fulfilled which was said by Isaias the prophet:
4:15. Land of Zabulon and land of Nephthalim, the way of the sea beyond
the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles:
4:16. The people that sat in darkness, hath seen great light:  and to
them that sat in the region of the shadow of death, light is sprung up.
4:17. From that time Jesus began to preach, and to say:  Do penance, for
the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
4:18. And Jesus walking by the sea of Galilee, saw two brethren, Simon
who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea
(for they were fishers).
4:19. And he saith to them:  Come ye after me, and I will make you to be
fishers of men.
4:20. And they immediately leaving their nets, followed him.
4:21. And going on from thence, he saw other two brethren, James the
son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in a ship with Zebedee their
father, mending their nets:  and he called them.
4:22. And they forthwith left their nets and father, and followed him.
4:23. And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues,
and preaching the gospel of the kingdom:  and healing all manner of
sickness and every infirmity, among the people.
4:24. And his fame went throughout all Syria, and they presented to him
all sick people that were taken with divers diseases and torments, and
such as were possessed by devils, and lunatics, and those that had the
palsy, and he cured them:
4:25. And much people followed him from Galilee, and from Decapolis,
and from Jerusalem, and from Judea, and from beyond the Jordan.
Matthew Chapter 5
Christ's sermon upon the mount.  The eight beatitudes.
5:1. And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain, and when he
was set down, his disciples came unto him.
5:2. And opening his mouth he taught them, saying:
5:3. Blessed are the poor in spirit:  for theirs is the kingdom of
The poor in spirit. . .That is, the humble; and they whose spirit is not
set upon riches.
5:4. Blessed are the meek:  for they shall possess the land.
5:5. Blessed are they that mourn:  for they shall be comforted.
5:6. Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice:  for they
shall have their fill.
5:7. Blessed are the merciful:  for they shall obtain mercy.
5:8. Blessed are the clean of heart:  they shall see God.
5:9. Blessed are the peacemakers:  for they shall be called the children
5:10. Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice' sake:  for
theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
5:11. Blessed are ye when they shall revile you, and persecute you, and
speak all that is evil against you, untruly, for my sake:
5:12. Be glad and rejoice for your reward is very great in heaven.  For
so they persecuted the prophets that were before you.
5:13. You are the salt of the earth.  But if the salt lose its savour,
wherewith shall it be salted?  It is good for nothing anymore but to be
cast out, and to be trodden on by men.
5:14. You are the light of the world.  A city seated on a mountain
cannot be hid.
5:15. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but upon
a candlestick, that it may shine to all that are in the house.
5:16. So let your light shine before men, that they may see your good
works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.
5:17. Do not think that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets.
I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil.
To fulfil. . .By accomplishing all the figures and prophecies; and
perfecting all that was imperfect.
5:18. For amen I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot, or
one tittle shall not pass of the law, till all be fulfilled.
Amen. . .That is, assuredly of a truth. . .This Hebrew word, amen, is
here retained by the example and authority of all the four Evangelists.
It is used by our Lord as a strong asseveration, and affirmation of the
5:19. He therefore that shall break one of these least commandments,
and shall so teach men shall be called the least in the kingdom of
heaven.  But he that shall do and teach, he shall be called great in the
kingdom of heaven.
5:20. For I tell you, that unless your justice abound more than that of
the scribes and Pharisees, you shall not enter into the kingdom of
The scribes and Pharisees. . .The scribes were the doctors of the law of
Moses:  the Pharisees were a precise set of men, making profession of a
more exact observance of the law:  and upon that account greatly
esteemed among the people.
5:21. You have heard that it was said to them of old:  Thou shalt not
kill.  And whosoever shall kill, shall be in danger of the judgment.
Shall be in danger of the judgment. . .That is, shall deserve to be
punished by that lesser tribunal among the Jews, called the Judgment,
which took cognizance of such crimes.
5:22. But I say to you, that whosoever is angry with his brother, shall
be in danger of the judgment.  And whosoever shall say to his brother,
Raca, shall be in danger of the council.  And whosoever shall say, Thou
fool, shall be in danger of hell fire.
Raca. . .A word expressing great indignation or contempt.  Shall be in
danger of the council. . .That is, shall deserve to be punished by the
highest court of judicature, called the Council, or Sanhedrim,
consisting of seventy-two persons, where the highest causes were tried
and judged, which was at Jerusalem.  Thou fool. . .This was then looked
upon as a heinous injury, when uttered with contempt, spite, or malice:
and therefore is here so severely condemned.  Shall be in danger of hell
fire. . .literally, according to the Greek, shall deserve to be cast
into the Gehenna of fire.  Which words our Saviour made use of to
express the fire and punishments of hell.
5:23. If therefore thou offer thy gift at the altar, and there thou
remember that thy brother hath anything against thee;
5:24. Leave there thy offering before the altar, and go first to be
reconciled to thy brother, and then coming thou shalt offer thy gift.
5:25. Be at agreement with thy adversary betimes, whilst thou art in
the way with him:  lest perhaps the adversary deliver thee to the judge,
and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into
5:26. Amen I say to thee, thou shalt not go out from thence till thou
repay the last farthing.
5:27. You have heard that it was said to them of old:  Thou shalt not
commit adultery.
5:28. But I say to you, that whosoever shall look on a woman to lust
after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart.
5:29. And if thy right eye scandalize thee, pluck it out and cast it
from thee.  For it is expedient for thee that one of thy members should
perish, rather than thy whole body be cast into hell.
Scandalize thee. . .That is, if it be a stumblingblock, or occasion of
sin to thee.  By which we are taught to fly the immediate occasions of
sin, though they be as dear to us, or as necessary as a hand or an eye.
5:30. And if thy right hand scandalize thee, cut it off, and cast it
from thee:  for it is expedient for thee that one of thy members should
perish, rather than that thy whole body go into hell.
5:31. And it hath been said, Whosoever shall put away his wife, let him
give her a bill of divorce.
5:32. But I say to you, that whosoever shall put away his wife,
excepting the cause of fornication, maketh her to commit adultery:  and
he that shall marry her that is put away, committeth adultery.
5:33. Again you have heard that it was said to them of old, thou shalt
not forswear thyself:  but thou shalt perform thy oaths to the Lord.
5:34. But I say to you not to swear at all, neither by heaven for it is
the throne of God:
Not to swear at all. . .It is not forbid to swear in truth, justice and
judgment; to the honour of God, or our own or neighbour's just defence:
but only to swear rashly, or profanely, in common discourse, and
without necessity.
5:35. Nor by the earth, for it is his footstool:  nor by Jerusalem, for
it is the city of the great king:
5:36. Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make
one hair white or black.
5:37. But let your speech be yea, yea:  no, no:  and that which is over
and above these, is of evil.
5:38. You have heard that it hath been said:  An eye for an eye, and a
tooth for a tooth.
5:39. But I say to you not to resist evil:  but if one strike thee on
thy right cheek, turn to him also the other:
Not to resist evil, etc. . .What is here commanded, is a Christian
patience under injuries and affronts, and to be willing even to suffer
still more, rather than to indulge the desire of revenge:  but what is
further added does not strictly oblige according to the letter, for
neither did Christ nor St. Paul turn the other cheek.  St. John 18., and
5:40. And if a man will contend with thee in judgment, and take away
thy coat, let go thy cloak also unto him.
5:41. And whosoever will force thee one mile, go with him other two.
5:42. Give to him that asketh of thee, and from him that would borrow
of thee turn not away.
5:43. You have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy
neighbour, and hate thy enemy.
5:44. But I say to you, Love your enemies:  do good to them that hate
you:  and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you:
5:45. That you may be the children of your Father who is in heaven, who
maketh his sun to rise upon the good, and bad, and raineth upon the
just and the unjust.
5:46. For if you love them that love you, what reward shall you have?
do not even the publicans this?
The publicans. . .These were the gatherers of the public taxes:  a set of
men, odious and infamous among the Jews, for their extortions and
5:47. And if you salute your brethren only, what do you more?  do not
also the heathens this?
5:48. Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is
Matthew Chapter 6
A continuation of the sermon on the mount.
6:1. Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen by
them:  otherwise you shall not have a reward of your Father who is in
Your justice. . .that is, works of justice; viz., fasting, prayer, and
almsdeeds; which ought to be performed not out of ostentation, or a
view to please men, but solely to please God.
6:2. Therefore when thou dost an alms-deed, sound not a trumpet before
thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that
they may be honoured by men.  Amen I say to you, they have received
their reward.
6:3. But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right
6:4. That thy alms may be in secret, and thy Father who seeth in secret
will repay thee.
6:5. And when ye pray, you shall not be as the hypocrites, that love to
stand and pray in the synagogues and corners of the streets, that they
may be seen by men:  Amen I say to you, they have received their reward.
6:6. But thou when thou shalt pray, enter into thy chamber, and having
shut the door, pray to thy Father in secret, and thy father who seeth
in secret will repay thee.
6:7. And when you are praying, speak not much, as the heathens.  For
they think that in their much speaking they may be heard.
6:8. Be not you therefore like to them for your Father knoweth what is
needful for you, before you ask him.
6:9. Thus therefore shall you pray:  Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
6:10. Thy kingdom come.  Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
6:11. Give us this day our supersubstantial bread.
Supersubstantial bread. . .In St. Luke the same word is rendered daily
bread.  It is understood of the bread of life, which we receive in the
Blessed Sacrament.
6:12. And forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.
6:13. And lead us not into temptation.  But deliver us from evil.  Amen.
Lead us not into temptation. . .That is, suffer us not to be overcome by
6:14. For if you will forgive men their offences, your heavenly Father
will forgive you also your offences.
6:15. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your Father forgive
you your offences.
6:16. And when you fast, be not as the hypocrites, sad.  For they
disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast.  Amen I
say to you, they have received their reward.
6:17. But thou, when thou fastest anoint thy head, and wash thy face;
6:18. That thou appear not to men to fast, but to thy Father who is in
secret:  and thy Father who seeth in secret, will repay thee.
6:19. Lay not up to yourselves treasures on earth:  where the rust, and
moth consume, and where thieves break through, and steal.
6:20. But lay up to yourselves treasures in heaven:  where neither the
rust nor moth doth consume, and where thieves do not break through, nor
6:21. For where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also.
6:22. The light of thy body is thy eye.  If thy eye be single, thy whole
body shall be lightsome.
6:23. But if thy eye be evil thy whole body shall be darksome.  If then
the light that is in thee, be darkness:  the darkness itself how great
shall it be!
6:24. No man can serve two masters.  For either he will hate the one,
and love the other:  or he will sustain the one, and despise the other.
You cannot serve God and mammon.
Mammon. . .That is, riches, worldly interest.
6:25. Therefore I say to you, be not solicitous for your life, what you
shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put on.  Is not the life
more than the meat:  and the body more than the raiment?
6:26. Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they
reap, nor gather into barns:  and your heavenly Father feedeth them.  Are
not you of much more value than they?
6:27. And which of you by taking thought, can add to his stature one
6:28. And for raiment why are you solicitous?  Consider the lilies of
the field, how they grow:  they labour not, neither do they spin.
6:29. But I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was
arrayed as one of these.
6:30. And if the grass of the field, which is to day, and to morrow is
cast into the oven, God doth so clothe:  how much more you, O ye of
little faith?
6:31. Be not solicitous therefore, saying:  What shall we eat:  or what
shall we drink, or wherewith shall we be clothed?
6:32. For after all these things do the heathens seek.  For your Father
knoweth that you have need of all these things.
6:33. Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and
all these things shall be added unto you.
6:34. Be not therefore solicitous for to morrow; for the morrow will be
solicitous for itself.  Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.
Matthew Chapter 7
The third part of the sermon on the mount.
7:1. Judge not, that you may not be judged.
7:2. For with what judgment you judge, you shall be judged:  and with
what measure you mete, it shall be measured to you again.
7:3. And why seest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye; and
seest not the beam that is in thy own eye?
7:4. Or how sayest thou to thy brother:  Let me cast the mote out of thy
eye; and behold a beam is in thy own eye?
7:5. Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thy own eye, and
then shalt thou see to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.
7:6. Give not that which is holy to dogs; neither cast ye your pearls
before swine, lest perhaps they trample them under their feet, and
turning upon you, they tear you.
7:7. Ask, and it shall be given you:  seek, and you shall find:  knock,
and it shall be opened to you.
7:8. For every one that asketh, receiveth:  and he that seeketh,
findeth:  and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.
7:9. Or what man is there among you, of whom if his son shall ask
bread, will he reach him a stone?
7:10. Or if he shall ask him a fish, will he reach him a serpent?
7:11. If you then being evil, know how to give good gifts to your
children:  how much more will your Father who is in heaven, give good
things to them that ask him?
7:12. All things therefore whatsoever you would that men should do to
you, do you also to them.  For this is the law and the prophets.
7:13. Enter ye in at the narrow gate:  for wide is the gate, and broad
is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there are who go in
7:14. How narrow is the gate, and strait is the way that leadeth to
life:  and few there are that find it!
7:15. Beware of false prophets, who come to you in the clothing of
sheep, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.
7:16. By their fruits you shall know them.  Do men gather grapes of
thorns, or figs of thistles?
7:17. Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit, and the evil
tree bringeth forth evil fruit.
7:18. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can an evil
tree bring forth good fruit.
7:19. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit, shall be cut down,
and shall be cast into the fire.
7:20. Wherefore by their fruits you shall know them.
7:21. Not every one that saith to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the
kingdom of heaven:  but he that doth the will of my Father who is in
heaven, he shall enter into the kingdom of heaven.
7:22. Many will say to me in that day:  Lord, Lord, have not we
prophesied in thy name, and cast out devils in thy name, and done many
miracles in thy name?
7:23. And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you:  depart from
me, you that work iniquity.
7:24. Every one therefore that heareth these my words, and doth them,
shall be likened to a wise man that built his house upon a rock,
7:25. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and
they beat upon that house, and it fell not, for it was founded on a
7:26. And every one that heareth these my words and doth them not,
shall be like a foolish man that built his house upon the sand,
7:27. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and
they beat upon that house, and it fell, and great was the fall thereof.
7:28. And it came to pass when Jesus had fully ended these words, the
people were in admiration at his doctrine.
7:29. For he was teaching them as one having power, and not as the
scribes and Pharisees.
Matthew Chapter 8
Christ cleanses the leper, heals the centurion's servant, Peter's
mother-in-law, and many others:  he stills the storm at sea, drives the
devils out of two men possessed, and suffers them to go into the swine.
8:1. And when he was come down from the mountain, great multitudes
followed him:
8:2. And behold a leper came and adored him, saying:  Lord, if thou
wilt, thou canst make me clean.
8:3. And Jesus stretching forth his hand, touched him, saying:  I will,
be thou made clean.  And forthwith his leprosy was cleansed.
8:4. And Jesus saith to him:  See thou tell no man:  but go, shew thyself
to the priest, and offer the gift which Moses commanded, for a
testimony unto them.
8:5. And when he had entered into Capharnaum, there came to him a
centurion, beseeching him,
8:6. And saying, Lord, my servant lieth at home sick of the palsy, and
is grievously tormented.
8:7. And Jesus saith to him:  I will come and heal him.
8:8. And the centurion, making answer, said:  Lord, I am not worthy that
thou shouldst enter under my roof; but only say the word, and my
servant shall be healed.
8:9. For I also am a man subject to authority, having under me
soldiers; and I say to this, Go, and he goeth, and to another Come, and
he cometh, and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it.
8:10. And Jesus hearing this, marvelled; and said to them that followed
him.  Amen I say to you, I have not found so great faith in Israel.
8:11. And I say to you that many shall come from the east and the west,
and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of
8:12. But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into the
exterior darkness:  there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
8:13. And Jesus said to the centurion:  Go, and as thou hast believed,
so be it done to thee.  And the servant was healed at the same hour.
8:14. And when Jesus was come into Peter's house, he saw his wife's
mother lying, and sick of a fever;
8:15. And he touched her hand, and the fever left her, and she arose
and ministered to them.
8:16. And when evening was come, they brought to him many that were
possessed with devils:  and he cast out the spirits with his word:  and
all that were sick he healed:
8:17. That it might be fulfilled, which was spoken by the prophet
Isaias, saying:  He took our infirmities, and bore our diseases.
8:18. And Jesus seeing great multitudes about him, gave orders to pass
over the water.
8:19. And a certain scribe came and said to him:  Master, I will follow
thee whithersoever thou shalt go.
8:20. And Jesus saith to him:  The foxes have holes, and the birds of
the air nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.
8:21. And another of his disciples said to him:  Lord, suffer me first
to go and bury my father.
8:22. But Jesus said to him:  Follow me, and let the dead bury their
8:23. And when he entered into the boat, his disciples followed him:
8:24. And behold a great tempest arose in the sea, so that the boat was
covered with waves, but he was asleep.
8:25. And they came to him, and awaked him, saying:  Lord, save us, we
8:26. And Jesus saith to them:  Why are you fearful, O ye of little
faith?  Then rising up, he commanded the winds, and the sea, and there
came a great calm.
8:27. But the men wondered, saying:  What manner of man is this, for the
winds and the sea obey him?
8:28. And when he was come on the other side of the water, into the
country of the Gerasens, there met him two that were possessed with
devils, coming out of the sepulchres, exceeding fierce, so that none
could pass by that way.
8:29. And behold they cried out, saying:  What have we to do with thee,
Jesus Son of God?  art thou come hither to torment us before the time?
8:30. And there was, not far from them, a herd of many swine feeding.
8:31. And the devils besought him, saying:  If thou cast us out hence,
send us into the herd of swine.
8:32. And he said to them:  Go.  But they going out went into the swine,
and behold the whole herd ran violently down a steep place into the
sea:  and they perished in the waters.
8:33. And they that kept them fled:  and coming into the city, told
every thing, and concerning them that had been possessed by the devils.
8:34. And behold the whole city went out to meet Jesus, and when they
saw him, they besought him that he would depart from their coast.
Matthew Chapter 9
Christ heals one sick of palsy:  calls Matthew:  cures the issue of
blood:  raises to life the daughter of Jairus:  gives sight to two blind
men:  and heals a dumb man possessed by the devil.
9:1. And entering into a boat, he passed over the water and came into
his own city.
9:2. And behold they brought to him one sick of the palsy lying in a
bed.  And Jesus, seeing their faith, said to the man sick of the palsy:
Be of good heart, son, thy sins are forgiven thee.
9:3. And behold some of the scribes said within themselves:  He
blasphemeth.
9:4. And Jesus seeing their thoughts, said:  Why do you think evil in
your hearts?
9:5. Whether is easier, to say, Thy sins are forgiven thee:  or to say,
Arise, and walk?
9:6. But that you may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to
forgive sins, (then said he to the man sick of the palsy,) Arise, take
up thy bed, and go into thy house.
9:7. And he arose, and went into his house.
9:8. And the multitude seeing it, feared, and glorified God that gave
such power to men.
9:9. And when Jesus passed on from thence, he saw a man sitting in the
custom house, named Matthew; and he saith to him:  Follow me.  And he
arose up and followed him.
9:10. And it came to pass as he was sitting at meat in the house,
behold many publicans and sinners came, and sat down with Jesus and his
9:11. And the Pharisees seeing it, said to his disciples:  Why doth your
master eat with publicans and sinners?
9:12. But Jesus hearing it, said:  They that are in health need not a
physician, but they that are ill.
9:13. Go then and learn what this meaneth, I will have mercy and not
sacrifice.  For I am not come to call the just, but sinners.
9:14. Then came to him the disciples of John, saying:  Why do we and the
Pharisees, fast often, but thy disciples do not fast?
9:15. And Jesus said to them:  Can the children of the bridegroom mourn,
as long as the bridegroom is with them?  But the days will come, when
the bridegroom shall be taken away from them, and then they shall fast.
Can the children of the bridegroom. . .This, by a Hebraism, signifies
the friends or companions of the bridegroom.
9:16. And nobody putteth a piece of raw cloth unto an old garment.  For
it taketh away the fulness thereof from the garment, and there is made
a greater rent.
9:17. Neither do they put new wine into old bottles.  Otherwise the
bottles break, and the wine runneth out, and the bottles perish.  But
new wine they put into new bottles:  and both are preserved.
9:18. As he was speaking these things unto them, behold a certain ruler
came up, and adored him, saying:  Lord, my daughter is even now dead;
but come, lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live.
9:19. And Jesus rising up followed him, with his disciples.
9:20. And behold a woman who was troubled with an issue of blood twelve
years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment.
9:21. For she said within herself:  If I shall touch only his garment, I
shall be healed.
9:22. But Jesus turning and seeing her, said:  Be of good heart,
daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole.  And the woman was made whole
from that hour.
9:23. And when Jesus was come into the house of the ruler, and saw the
minstrels and the multitude making a rout,
9:24. He said:  Give place, for the girl is not dead, but sleepeth.  And
they laughed him to scorn.
9:25. And when the multitude was put forth, he went in, and took her by
the hand.  And the maid arose.
9:26. And the fame hereof went abroad into all that country.
9:27. And as Jesus passed from thence, there followed him two blind men
crying out and saying, Have mercy on us, O Son of David.
9:28. And when he was come to the house, the blind men came to him.  And
Jesus saith to them, Do you believe, that I can do this unto you?  They
say to him, Yea, Lord.
9:29. Then he touched their eyes, saying, According to your faith, be
it done unto you.
9:30. And their eyes were opened, and Jesus strictly charged them,
saying, See that no man know this.
9:31. But they going out, spread his fame abroad in all that country.
9:32. And when they were gone out, behold they brought him a dumb man,
possessed with a devil.
9:33. And after the devil was cast out, the dumb man spoke, and the
multitudes wondered, saying, Never was the like seen in Israel.
9:34. But the Pharisees said, By the prince of devils he casteth out
9:35. And Jesus went about all the cities and towns, teaching in their
synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every
disease, and every infirmity.
9:36. And seeing the multitudes, he had compassion on them:  because
they were distressed, and lying like sheep that have no shepherd.
9:37. Then he saith to his disciples, The harvest indeed is great, but
the labourers are few.
9:38. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he send forth
labourers into his harvest.
Matthew Chapter 10
Christ sends out his twelve apostles, with the power of miracles.  The
lessons he gives them.
10:1. And having called his twelve disciples together, he gave them
power over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal all manner of
diseases, and all manner of infirmities.
10:2. And the names of the twelve Apostles are these:  The first, Simon
who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother,
10:3. James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, Philip and
Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew the publican, and James the son of
Alpheus, and Thaddeus,
10:4. Simon the Cananean, and Judas Iscariot, who also betrayed him.
10:5. These twelve Jesus sent:  commanding them, saying:  Go ye not into
the way of the Gentiles, and into the city of the Samaritans enter ye
10:6. But go ye rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.
10:7. And going, preach, saying:  The kingdom of heaven is at hand.
10:8. Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out
devils:  freely have you received, freely give.
10:9. Do not possess gold, nor silver, nor money in your purses:
10:10. Nor scrip for your journey, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor a
staff; for the workman is worthy of his meat.
10:11. And into whatsoever city or town you shall enter, inquire who in
it is worthy, and there abide till you go thence.
10:12. And when you come into the house, salute it, saying:  Peace be to
10:13. And if that house be worthy, your peace shall come upon it; but
if it be not worthy, your peace shall return to you.
10:14. And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words:  going
forth out of that house or city shake off the dust from your feet.
10:15. Amen I say to you, it shall be more tolerable for the land of
Sodom and Gomorrha in the day of judgment, than for that city.
10:16. Behold I send you as sheep in the midst of wolves.  Be ye
therefore wise as serpents and simple as doves.
Simple. . .That is, harmless, plain, sincere, and without guile.
10:17. But beware of men.  For they will deliver you up in councils, and
they will scourge you in their synagogues.
10:18. And you shall be brought before governors, and before kings for
my sake, for a testimony to them and to the Gentiles:
10:19. But when they shall deliver you up, take no thought how or what
to speak:  for it shall be given you in that hour what to speak:
10:20. For it is not you that speak, but the spirit of your Father that
speaketh in you.
10:21. The brother also shall deliver up the brother to death, and the
father the son; and the children shall rise up against their parents,
and shall put them to death.
10:22. And you shall be hated by all men for my name's sake:  but he
that shall persevere unto the end, he shall be saved.
10:23. And when they shall persecute you in this city, flee into
another.  Amen I say to you, you shall not finish all the cities of
Israel, till the Son of man come.
10:24. The disciple is not above the master, nor the servant above his
10:25. It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master, and the
servant as his lord.  If they have called the good man of the house
Beelzebub, how much more them of his household?
10:26. Therefore fear them not.  For nothing is covered that shall not
be revealed:  nor hid, that shall not be known.
10:27. That which I tell you in the dark, speak ye in the light:  and
that which you hear in the ear, preach ye upon the housetops.
10:28. And fear ye not them that kill the body, and are not able to
kill the soul:  but rather fear him that can destroy both soul and body
10:29. Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing?  and not one of them
shall fall on the ground without your Father.
10:30. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
10:31. Fear not therefore:  better are you than many sparrows.
10:32. Every one therefore that shall confess me before men, I will
also confess him before my Father who is in heaven.
10:33. But he that shall deny me before men, I will also deny him
before my Father who is in heaven.
10:34. Do not think that I came to send peace upon earth:  I came not to
send peace, but the sword.
10:35. For I came to set a man at variance against his father, and the
daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother
I came to set a man at variance, etc. . .Not that this was the end or
design of the coming of our Saviour; but that his coming and his
doctrine would have this effect, by reason of the obstinate resistance
that many would make, and of their persecuting all such as should
adhere to him.
10:36. And a man's enemies shall be they of his own household.
10:37. He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of
me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of
10:38. And he that taketh not up his cross, and followeth me, is not
worthy of me.
10:39. He that findeth his life, shall lose it:  and he that shall lose
his life for me, shall find it.
10:40. He that receiveth you, receiveth me:  and he that receiveth me,
receiveth him that sent me.
10:41. He that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet, shall
receive the reward of a prophet:  and he that receiveth a just man in
the name of a just man, shall receive the reward of a just man.
10:42. And whosoever shall give to drink to one of these little ones a
cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, amen I say to you he
shall not lose his reward.
Matthew Chapter 11
John sends his disciples to Christ, who upbraids the Jews for their
incredulity, and calls to him such as are sensible of their burdens.
11:1. And it came to pass, when Jesus had made an end of commanding his
twelve disciples, he passed from thence, to teach and to preach in
their cities.
11:2. Now when John had heard in prison the works of Christ:  sending
two of his disciples he said to him:
11:3. Art thou he that art to come, or look we for another?
11:4. And Jesus making answer said to them:  Go and relate to John what
you have heard and seen.
11:5. The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf
hear, the dead rise again, the poor have the gospel preached to them.
11:6. And blessed is he that shall not be scandalized in me.
Scandalized in me. . .That is, who shall not take occasion of scandal or
offence from my humility, and the disgraceful death of the cross which
I shall endure.
11:7. And when they went their way, Jesus began to say to the
multitudes concerning John:  What went you out into the desert to see?  a
reed shaken with the wind?
11:8. But what went you out to see?  a man clothed in soft garments?
Behold they that are clothed in soft garments, are in the houses of
11:9. But what went you out to see?  A prophet?  Yea I tell you, and more
than a prophet.
11:10. For this is he of whom it is written:  Behold I send my angel
before my face, who shall prepare thy way before thee.
11:11. Amen I say to you, there hath not risen among them that are born
of women a greater than John the Baptist:  yet he that is the lesser in
the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.
11:12. And from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of
heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away.
Suffereth violence, etc. . .It is not to be obtained but by main force,
by using violence upon ourselves, by mortification and penance, and
resisting our perverse inclinations.
11:13. For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John:
11:14. And if you will receive it, he is Elias that is to come.
He is Elias, etc. . .Not in person, but in spirit.  St. Luke 1. 17.
11:15. He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
11:16. But whereunto shall I esteem this generation to be like?  It is
like to children sitting in the market place.
11:17. Who crying to their companions say:  We have piped to you, and
you have not danced:  we have lamented, and you have not mourned.
11:18. For John came neither eating nor drinking; and they say:  He hath
11:19. The Son of man came eating and drinking, and they say:  Behold a
man that is a glutton and a wine drinker, a friend of publicans and
sinners.  And wisdom is justified by her children.
11:20. Then began he to upbraid the cities wherein were done the most
of his miracles, for that they had not done penance.
11:21. Woe thee, Corozain, woe to thee, Bethsaida:  for if in Tyre and
Sidon had been wrought the miracles that have been wrought in you, they
had long ago done penance in sackcloth and ashes.
11:22. But I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and
Sidon in the day of judgment, than for you.
11:23. And thou Capharnaum, shalt thou be exalted up to heaven?  thou
shalt go down even unto hell.  For if in Sodom had been wrought the
miracles that have been wrought in thee, perhaps it had remained unto
11:24. But I say unto you, that it shall be more tolerable for the land
of Sodom in the day of judgment than for thee.
11:25. At that time Jesus answered and said:  I confess to thee, O
Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things
from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to little ones.
11:26. Yea, Father:  for so hath it seemed good in thy sight.
11:27. All things are delivered to me by my Father.  And no one knoweth
the Son but the Father:  neither doth any one know the Father, but the
Son, and he to whom it shall please the Son to reveal him.
11:28. Come to me all you that labor and are burdened, and I will
refresh you.
11:29. Take up my yoke upon you, and learn of me, because I am meek,
and humble of heart:  And you shall find rest to your souls.
11:30. For my yoke is sweet and my burden light.
Matthew Chapter 12
Christ reproves the blindness of the Pharisees, and confutes their
attributing his miracles to Satan.
12:1. At that time Jesus went through the corn on the sabbath:  and his
disciples being hungry, began to pluck the ears, and to eat.
12:2. And the Pharisees seeing them, said to him:  Behold thy disciples
do that which is not lawful to do on the sabbath days.
12:3. But he said to them:  Have you not read what David did when he was
hungry, and they that were with him:
12:4. How he entered into the house of God, and did eat the loaves of
proposition, which it was not lawful for him to eat, nor for them that
were with him, but for the priests only?
The loaves of proposition. . .So were called the twelve loaves which
were placed before the sanctuary in the temple of God.
12:5. Or have ye not read in the law, that on the sabbath days the
priests in the temple break the sabbath, and are without blame?
12:6. But I tell you that there is here a greater than the temple.
12:7. And if you knew what this meaneth:  I will have mercy, and not
sacrifice:  you would never have condemned the innocent.
12:8. For the Son of man is Lord even of the sabbath.
12:9. And when he had passed from thence, he came into their
12:10. And behold there was a man who had a withered hand, and they
asked him, saying:  Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath days?  that they
might accuse him.
12:11. But he said to them:  What man shall there be among you, that
hath one sheep:  and if the same fall into a pit on the sabbath day,
will he not take hold on it and lift it up?
12:12. How much better is a man than a sheep?  Therefore it is lawful to
do a good deed on the sabbath days.
12:13. Then he saith to the man:  Stretch forth thy hand; and he
stretched it forth, and it was restored to health even as the other.
12:14. And the Pharisees going out made a consultation against him, how
they might destroy him.
12:15. But Jesus knowing it, retired from thence:  and many followed
him, and he healed them all.
12:16. And he charged them that they should not make him known.
12:17. That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaias the
prophet, saying:
12:18. Behold my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved in whom my soul
hath been well pleased.  I will put my spirit upon him, and he shall
shew judgment to the Gentiles.
12:19. He shall not contend, nor cry out, neither shall any man hear
his voice in the streets.
12:20. The bruised reed he shall not break:  and smoking flax he shall
not extinguish:  till he send forth judgment unto victory.
12:21. And in his name the Gentiles shall hope.
12:22. Then was offered to him one possessed with a devil, blind and
dumb:  and he healed him, so that he spoke and saw.
12:23. And all the multitudes were amazed, and said:  Is not this the
son of David?
12:24. But the Pharisees hearing it, said:  This man casteth not out
devils but by Beelzebub the prince of the devils.
12:25. And Jesus knowing their thoughts, said to them:  Every kingdom
divided against itself shall be made desolate:  and every city or house
divided against itself shall not stand.
12:26. And if Satan cast out Satan, he is divided against himself:  how
then shall his kingdom stand?
12:27. And if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your children
cast them out?  Therefore they shall be your judges.
12:28. But if I by the Spirit of God cast out devils, then is the
kingdom of God come upon you.
12:29. Or how can any one enter into the house of the strong, and rifle
his goods, unless he first bind the strong?  and then he will rifle his
12:30. He that is not with me, is against me:  and he that gathereth not
with me, scattereth.
12:31. Therefore I say to you:  Every sin and blasphemy shall be
forgiven men, but the blasphemy of the Spirit shall not be forgiven.
The blasphemy of the Spirit. . .The sin here spoken of is that
blasphemy, by which the Pharisees attributed the miracles of Christ,
wrought by the Spirit of God, to Beelzebub the prince of devils.  Now
this kind of sin is usually accompanied with so much obstinacy, and
such wilful opposing the Spirit of God, and the known truth, that men
who are guilty of it, are seldom or never converted:  and therefore are
never forgiven, because they will not repent.  Otherwise there is no
sin, which God cannot or will not forgive to such as sincerely repent,
and have recourse to the keys of the church.
12:32. And whosoever shall speak a word against the Son of man, it
shall be forgiven him:  but he that shall speak against the Holy Ghost,
it shall not be forgiven him neither in this world, nor in the world to
Nor in the world to come. . .From these words St. Augustine (De Civ.
Dei, lib. 21, c. 13) and St. Gregory (Dialog., 4, c. 39) gather, that
some sins may be remitted in the world to come; and, consequently, that
there is a purgatory or a middle place.
12:33. Either make the tree good and its fruit good:  or make the tree
evil, and its fruit evil.  For by the fruit the tree is known.
12:34. O generation of vipers, how can you speak good things, whereas
you are evil?  for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.
12:35. A good man out of a good treasure bringeth forth good things:
and an evil man out of an evil treasure bringeth forth evil things.
12:36. But I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak,
they shall render an account for it in the day of judgment.
Every idle word. . .This shews there must be a place of temporal
punishment hereafter where these slighter faults shall be punished.
12:37. For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou
shalt be condemned.
12:38. Then some of the scribes and Pharisees answered him, saying:
Master, we would see a sign from thee.
A sign. . .That is, a miracle from heaven.  St. Luke 11. 16.
12:39. Who answering said to them:  An evil and adulterous generation
seeketh a sign:  and a sign shall not be given it, but the sign of Jonas
the prophet.
12:40. For as Jonas was in the whale's belly three days and three
nights:  so shall the Son of man be in the heart of the earth three days
and three nights.
Three days, etc. . .Not complete days and nights; but part of three
days, and three nights taken according to the way that the Hebrews
counted their days and nights, viz., from evening to evening.
12:41. The men of Ninive shall rise in judgment with this generation,
and shall condemn it:  because they did penance at the preaching of
Jonas.  And behold a greater than Jonas here.
12:42. The queen of the south shall rise in judgment with this
generation, and shall condemn it:  because she came from the ends of the
earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and behold a greater than Solomon
12:43. And when an unclean spirit is gone out of a man he walketh
through dry places seeking rest, and findeth none.
12:44. Then he saith:  I will return into my house from whence I came
out.  And coming he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished.
12:45. Then he goeth, and taketh with him seven other spirits more
wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there:  and the last
state of that man is made worse than the first.  So shall it be also to
this wicked generation.
12:46. As he was yet speaking to the multitudes, behold his mother and
his brethren stood without, seeking to speak to him.
12:47. And one said unto him:  Behold thy mother and thy brethren stand
without, seeking thee.
12:48. But he answering him that told him, said:  Who is my mother, and
who are my brethren?
Who is my mother?. . .This was not spoken by way of slighting his
mother, but to shew that we are never to suffer ourselves to be taken
from the service of God, by any inordinate affection to our earthly
parents:  and that which our Lord chiefly regarded in his mother, was
her doing the will of his Father in heaven.  It may also further allude
to the reprobation of the Jews, his carnal kindred, and the election of
the Gentiles.
12:49. And stretching forth his hand towards his disciples, he said:
Behold my mother and my brethren.
12:50. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father, that is in heaven,
he is my brother, and sister, and mother.
Matthew Chapter 13
The parables of the sower and the cockle:  of the mustardseed, etc.
13:1. The same day Jesus going out of the house, sat by the sea side.
13:2. And great multitudes were gathered together unto him, so that he
went up into a boat and sat:  and all the multitude stood on the shore.
13:3. And he spoke to them many things in parables, saying:  Behold the
sower went forth to sow.
13:4. And whilst he soweth some fell by the way side, and the birds of
the air came and ate them up.
13:5. And other some fell upon stony ground, where they had not much
earth:  and they sprung up immediately, because they had no deepness of
13:6. And when the sun was up they were scorched:  and because they had
not root, they withered away.
13:7. And others fell among thorns:  and the thorns grew up and choked
13:8. And others fell upon good ground:  and they brought forth fruit,
some an hundred fold, some sixty fold, and some thirty fold.
13:9. He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
13:10. And his disciples came and said to him:  Why speakest thou to
them in parables?
13:11. Who answered and said to them:  Because to you it is given to
know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven:  but to them it is not
13:12. For he that hath, to him shall be given, and he shall abound:
but he that hath not, from him shall be taken away that also which he
13:13. Therefore do I speak to them in parables:  because seeing they
see not, and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand.
13:14. And the prophecy of Isaias is fulfilled in them, who saith:  By
hearing you shall hear, and shall not understand:  and seeing you shall
see, and shall not perceive.
13:15. For the heart of this people is grown gross, and with their ears
they have been dull of hearing, and their eyes they have shut:  lest at
any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and
understand with their heart, and be converted, and I should heal them.
13:16. But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears,
because they hear.
13:17. For, amen, I say to you, many prophets and just men have desired
to see the things that you see, and have not seen them:  and to hear the
things that you hear and have not heard them.
13:18. Hear you therefore the parable of the sower.
13:19. When any one heareth the word of the kingdom, and understandeth
it not, there cometh the wicked one, and catcheth away that which was
sown in his heart:  this is he that received the seed by the way side.
13:20. And he that received the seed upon stony ground, is he that
heareth the word, and immediately receiveth it with joy.
13:21. Yet hath he not root in himself, but is only for a time:  and
when there ariseth tribulation and persecution because of the word, he
is presently scandalized.
13:22. And he that received the seed among thorns, is he that heareth
the word, and the care of this world and the deceitfulness of riches
choketh up the word, and he becometh fruitless.
13:23. But he that received the seed upon good ground, is he that
heareth the word, and understandeth, and beareth fruit, and yieldeth
the one an hundredfold, and another sixty, and another thirty.
13:24. Another parable he proposed to them, saying:  The kingdom of
heaven is likened to a man that sowed good seed in his field.
13:25. But while men were asleep, his enemy came and oversowed cockle
among the wheat and went his way.
13:26. And when the blade was sprung up, and had brought forth fruit,
then appeared also the cockle.
13:27. And the servants of the good man of the house coming said to
him.  Sir, didst thou not sow good seed in thy field?  Whence then hath
13:28. And he said to them:  An enemy hath done this.  And the servants
said to him:  Wilt thou that we go and gather it up?
13:29. And he said:  No, lest perhaps gathering up the cockle, you root
up the wheat also together with it.
13:30. Suffer both to grow until the harvest, and in the time of the
harvest I will say to the reapers:  Gather up first the cockle, and bind
it into bundles to burn, but the wheat gather ye into my barn.
13:31. Another parable he proposed unto them, saying:  The kingdom of
heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took and sowed
in his field.
13:32. Which is the least indeed of all seeds; but when it is grown up,
it is greater than all herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of
the air come, and dwell in the branches thereof.
13:33. Another parable he spoke to them:  The kingdom of heaven is like
to leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, until
the whole was leavened.
13:34. All these things Jesus spoke in parables to the multitudes:  and
without parables he did not speak to them.
13:35. That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet,
saying:  I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter things hidden
from the foundation of the world.
13:36. Then having sent away the multitudes, he came into the house,
and his disciples came to him, saying:  Expound to us the parable of the
cockle of the field.
13:37. Who made answer and said to them:  He that soweth the good seed
is the Son of man.
13:38. And the field is the world.  And the good seed are the children
of the kingdom.  And the cockle are the children of the wicked one.
13:39. And the enemy that sowed them, is the devil.  But the harvest is
the end of the world.  And the reapers are the angels.
13:40. Even as cockle therefore is gathered up, and burnt with fire:  so
shall it be at the end of the world.
13:41. The Son of man shall send his angels, and they shall gather out
of his kingdom all scandals, and them that work iniquity.
13:42. And shall cast them into the furnace of fire:  there shall be
weeping and gnashing of teeth.
13:43. Then shall the just shine as the sun, in the kingdom of their
Father.  He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
13:44. The kingdom of heaven is like unto a treasure hidden in a field.
Which a man having found, hid it, and for joy thereof goeth, and
selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field.
13:45. Again the kingdom of heaven is like to a merchant seeking good
13:46. Who when he had found one pearl of great price, went his way,
and sold all that he had, and bought it.
13:47. Again the kingdom of heaven is like to a net cast into the sea,
and gathering together of all kinds of fishes.
13:48. Which, when it was filled, they drew out, and sitting by the
shore, they chose out the good into vessels, but the bad they cast
13:49. So shall it be at the end of the world.  The angels shall go out,
and shall separate the wicked from among the just.
13:50. And shall cast them into the furnace of fire:  there shall be
weeping and gnashing of teeth.
13:51. Have ye understood all these things?  They say to him:  Yes.
13:52. He said unto them:  Therefore every scribe instructed in the
kingdom of heaven, is like to a man that is a householder, who bringeth
forth out of his treasure new things and old.
13:53. And it came to pass:  when Jesus had finished these parables, he
passed from thence.
13:54. And coming into his own country, he taught them in their
synagogues, so that they wondered and said:  How came this man by this
wisdom and miracles?
13:55. Is not this the carpenter's son?  Is not his mother called Mary,
and his brethren James, and Joseph, and Simon, and Jude:
His brethren. . .These were the children of Mary the wife of Cleophas,
sister to our Blessed Lady, (St. Matt. 27. 56; St. John 19. 25,) and
therefore, according to the usual style of the Scripture, they were
called brethren, that is, near relations to our Saviour.
13:56. And his sisters, are they not all with us?  Whence therefore hath
he all these things?
13:57. And they were scandalized in his regard.  But Jesus said to them:
A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country, and in his
13:58. And he wrought not many miracles there, because of their
Matthew Chapter 14
Herod puts John to death.  Christ feeds five thousand in the desert.  He
walks upon the sea, and heals all the diseased with the touch of his
14:1. At that time Herod the Tetrarch heard the fame of Jesus.
Tetrarch. . .This word, derived from the Greek, signifies one that rules
over the fourth part of a kingdom:  as Herod then ruled over Galilee,
which was but the fourth part of the kingdom of his father.
14:2. And he said to his servants:  This is John the Baptist:  he is
risen from the dead, and therefore mighty works shew forth themselves
14:3. For Herod had apprehended John and bound him, and put him into
prison, because of Herodias, his brother's wife.
14:4. For John said to him:  It is not lawful for thee to have her.
14:5. And having a mind to put him to death, he feared the people:
because they esteemed him as a prophet.
14:6. But on Herod's birthday, the daughter of Herodias danced before
them:  and pleased Herod.
14:7. Whereupon he promised with an oath, to give her whatsoever she
would ask of him.
14:8. But she being instructed before by her mother, said:  Give me here
in a dish the head of John the Baptist.
14:9. And the king was struck sad:  yet because of his oath, and for
them that sat with him at table, he commanded it to be given.
14:10. And he sent, and beheaded John in the prison.
14:11. And his head was brought in a dish:  and it was given to the
damsel, and she brought it to her mother.
14:12. And his disciples came and took the body, and buried it, and
came and told Jesus.
14:13. Which when Jesus had heard, he retired from thence by a boat,
into a desert place apart, and the multitudes having heard of it,
followed him on foot out of the cities.
14:14. And he coming forth saw a great multitude, and had compassion on
them, and healed their sick.
14:15. And when it was evening, his disciples came to him, saying:  This
is a desert place, and the hour is now passed:  send away the
multitudes, that going into the towns, they may buy themselves
14:16. But Jesus said to them, They have no need to go:  give you them
14:17. They answered him:  We have not here, but five loaves, and two
14:18. Who said to them:  Bring them hither to me.
14:19. And when he had commanded the multitude to sit down upon the
grass, he took the five loaves and the two fishes, and looking up to
heaven, he blessed, and brake, and gave the loaves to his disciples,
and the disciples to the multitudes.
14:20. And they did all eat, and were filled.  And they took up what
remained, twelve full baskets of fragments.
14:21. And the number of them that did eat, was five thousand men,
besides women and children.
14:22. And forthwith Jesus obliged his disciples to go up into the
boat, and to go before him over the water, till he dismissed the
14:23. And having dismissed the multitude, he went into a mountain
alone to pray.  And when it was evening, he was there alone.
14:24. But the boat in the midst of the sea was tossed with the waves:
for the wind was contrary.
14:25. And in the fourth watch of the night, he came to them walking
upon the sea.
14:26. And they seeing him walking upon the sea, were troubled, saying:
It is an apparition.  And they cried out for fear.
14:27. And immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying:  Be of good heart:
it is I, fear ye not.
14:28. And Peter making answer, said:  Lord, if it be thou, bid me come
to thee upon the waters.
14:29. And he said:  Come.  And Peter going down out of the boat walked
upon the water to come to Jesus.
14:30. But seeing the wind strong, he was afraid:  and when he began to
sink, he cried out, saying:  Lord, save me.
14:31. And immediately Jesus stretching forth his hand took hold of
him, and said to him:  O thou of little faith, why didst thou doubt?
14:32. And when they were come up into the boat, the wind ceased.
14:33. And they that were in the boat came and adored him, saying:
Indeed thou art the Son of God.
14:34. And having passed the water, they came into the country of
14:35. And when the men of that place had knowledge of him, they sent
into all that country, and brought to him all that were diseased.
14:36. And they besought him that they might touch but the hem of his
garment.  And as many as touched, were made whole.
Matthew Chapter 15
Christ reproves the Scribes.  He cures the daughter of the woman of
Canaan:  and many others:  and feeds four thousand with seven loaves.
15:1. Then came to him from Jerusalem scribes and Pharisees, saying:
15:2. Why do thy disciples transgress the tradition of the ancients?
For they wash not their hands when they eat bread.
15:3. But he answering, said to them:  Why do you also transgress the
commandment of God for your tradition?  For God said:
15:4. Honour thy father and mother:  And:  He that shall curse father or
mother, let him die the death.
15:5. But you say:  Whosoever shall say to father or mother, The gift
whatsoever proceedeth from me, shall profit thee.
The gift, etc. . .That is, the offering that I shall make to God, shall
be instead of that which should be expended for thy profit.  This
tradition of the Pharisees was calculated to enrich themselves; by
exempting children from giving any further assistance to their parents,
if they once offered to the temple and the priests, that which should
have been the support of their parents.  But this was a violation of the
law of God, and of nature, which our Saviour here condemns.
15:6. And he shall not honour his father or his mother:  and you have
made void the commandment of God for your tradition.
15:7. Hypocrites, well hath Isaias prophesied of you, saying:
15:8. This people honoureth me with their lips:  but their heart is far
15:9. And in vain do they worship me, teaching doctrines and
commandments of men.
Commandments of men. . .The doctrines and commandments here reprehended
are such as are either contrary to the law of God, (as that of
neglecting parents, under pretence of giving to God,) or at least are
frivolous, unprofitable, and no ways conducing to true piety, as that
of often washing hands, etc., without regard to the purity of the
heart.  But as to the rules and ordinances of the holy church, touching
fasts, festivals, etc., these are no ways repugnant to, but highly
agreeable to God's holy word, and all Christian piety:  neither are they
to be counted among the doctrines and commandments of men; because they
proceed not from mere human authority; but from that which Christ has
established in his church; whose pastors he has commanded us to hear
and obey, even as himself.  St. Luke 10. 16; St. Matt. 18. 17.
15:10. And having called together the multitudes unto him, he said to
them:  Hear ye and understand.
15:11. Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man:  but what
cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.
Not that which goeth into, etc. . .No uncleanness in meat, nor any dirt
contracted by eating it with unwashed hands, can defile the soul:  but
sin alone; or a disobedience of the heart to the ordinance and will of
God.  And thus when Adam took the forbidden fruit, it was not the apple,
which entered into the mouth, but the disobedience to the law of God
which defiled him.  The same is to be said if a Jew, in the time of the
old law, had eaten swine's flesh; or a Christian convert, in the days
of the apostles, contrary to their ordinance, had eaten blood; or if
any of the faithful at present should transgress the ordinance of God's
church, by breaking the fasts:  for in all these cases the soul would be
defiled; not indeed by that which goeth into the mouth; but by the
disobedience of the heart, in wilfully transgressing the ordinance of
God, or of those who have their authority from him.
15:12. Then came his disciples, and said to him:  Dost thou know that
the Pharisees, when they heard this word, were scandalized?
15:13. But he answering, said:  Every plant which my heavenly Father
hath not planted, shall be rooted up.
15:14. Let them alone:  they are blind, and leaders of the blind.  And if
the blind lead the blind, both fall into the pit.
15:15. And Peter answering, said to him:  Expound to us this parable.
15:16. But he said:  Are you also yet without understanding?
15:17. Do you not understand, that whatsoever entereth into the mouth,
goeth into the belly, and is cast out into the privy?
15:18. But the things which proceed out of the mouth, come forth from
the heart, and those things defile a man.
15:19. For from the heart come forth evil thoughts, murders,
adulteries, fornications, thefts, false testimonies, blasphemies.
15:20. These are the things that defile a man.  But to eat with unwashed
hands doth not defile a man.
15:21. And Jesus went from thence, and retired into the coast of Tyre
15:22. And behold a woman of Canaan who came out of those coasts,
crying out, said to him:  Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David:
my daughter is grievously troubled by a devil.
15:23. Who answered her not a word.  And his disciples came and besought
him, saying:  Send her away, for she crieth after us:
15:24. And he answering, said:  I was not sent but to the sheep, that
are lost of the house of Israel.
15:25. But she came and adored him, saying:  Lord, help me.
15:26. Who answering, said:  It is not good to take the bread of the
children, and to cast it to the dogs.
15:27. But she said:  Yea, Lord; for the whelps also eat of the crumbs
that fall from the table of their masters.
15:28. Then Jesus answering, said to her:  O woman, great is thy faith:
be it done to thee as thou wilt:  and her daughter was cured from that
15:29. And when Jesus had passed away from thence, he came nigh the sea
of Galilee:  and going up into a mountain, he sat there.
15:30. And there came to him great multitudes, having with them the
dumb, the blind, the lame, the maimed, and many others:  and they cast
them down at his feet, and he healed them:
15:31. So that the multitudes marvelled seeing the dumb speak, the lame
walk, the blind see:  and they glorified the God of Israel.
15:32. And Jesus called together his disciples, and said:  I have
compassion on the multitudes, because they continue with me now three
days, and have not what to eat, and I will not send them away fasting,
lest they faint in the way.
15:33. And the disciples say unto him:  Whence then should we have so
many loaves in the desert, as to fill so great a multitude?
15:34. And Jesus said to them:  How many loaves have you?  But they said:
Seven, and a few little fishes.
15:35. And he commanded the multitude to sit down upon the ground.
15:36. And taking the seven loaves and the fishes, and giving thanks,
he brake, and gave to his disciples, and the disciples gave to the
15:37. And they did all eat, and had their fill.  And they took up seven
baskets full, of what remained of the fragments.
15:38. And they that did eat, were four thousand men, beside children
15:39. And having dismissed the multitude, he went up into a boat, and
came into the coasts of Magedan.
Matthew Chapter 16
Christ refuses to shew the Pharisees a sign from heaven.  Peter's
confession is rewarded.  He is rebuked for opposing Christ's passion.
All his followers must deny themselves.
16:1. And there came to him the Pharisees and Sadducees tempting:  and
they asked him to shew them a sign from heaven.
16:2. But he answered and said to them:  When it is evening, you say, It
will be fair weather, for the sky is red.
16:3. And in the morning:  To day there will be a storm, for the sky is
red and lowering.  You know then how to discern the face of the sky:  and
can you not know the signs of the times?
16:4. A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign:  and a
sign shall not be given it, but the sign of Jonas the prophet.  And he
left them, and went away.
16:5. And when his disciples were come over the water, they had
forgotten to take bread.
16:6. Who said to them:  Take heed and beware of the leaven of the
Pharisees and Sadducees.
16:7. But they thought within themselves, saying:  Because we have taken
16:8. And Jesus knowing it, said:  Why do you think within yourselves, O
ye of little faith, for that you have no bread?
16:9. Do you not yet understand, neither do you remember the five
loaves among five thousand men, and how many baskets you took up?
16:10. Nor the seven loaves, among four thousand men, and how many
baskets you took up?
16:11. Why do you not understand that it was not concerning bread I
said to you:  Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees?
16:12. Then they understood that he said not that they should beware of
the leaven of bread, but of the doctrine of the Pharisees and
16:13. And Jesus came into the quarters of Cesarea Philippi:  and he
asked his disciples, saying:  Whom do men say that the Son of man is?
16:14. But they said:  Some John the Baptist, and other some Elias, and
others Jeremias, or one of the prophets.
16:15. Jesus saith to them:  But whom do you say that I am?
16:16. Simon Peter answered and said:  Thou art Christ, the Son of the
16:17. And Jesus answering said to him:  Blessed art thou, Simon
Bar-Jona:  because flesh and blood hath not revealed it to thee, but my
Father who is in heaven.
16:18. And I say to thee:  That thou art Peter; and upon this rock I
will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against
Thou art Peter, etc. . .As St. Peter, by divine revelation, here made a
solemn profession of his faith of the divinity of Christ; so in
recompense of this faith and profession, our Lord here declares to him
the dignity to which he is pleased to raise him:  viz., that he to whom
he had already given the name of Peter, signifying a rock, St. John 1.
42, should be a rock indeed, of invincible strength, for the support of
the building of the church; in which building he should be, next to
Christ himself, the chief foundation stone, in quality of chief pastor,
ruler, and governor; and should have accordingly all fulness of
ecclesiastical power, signified by the keys of the kingdom of heaven.
Upon this rock, etc. . .The words of Christ to Peter, spoken in the
vulgar language of the Jews which our Lord made use of, were the same
as if he had said in English, Thou art a Rock, and upon this rock I
will build my church.  So that, by the plain course of the words, Peter
is here declared to be the rock, upon which the church was to be built:
Christ himself being both the principal foundation and founder of the
same.  Where also note, that Christ, by building his house, that is, his
church, upon a rock, has thereby secured it against all storms and
floods, like the wise builder, St. Matt. 7. 24, 25. The gates of hell,
etc. . .That is, the powers of darkness, and whatever Satan can do,
either by himself, or his agents.  For as the church is here likened to
a house, or fortress, built on a rock; so the adverse powers are
likened to a contrary house or fortress, the gates of which, that is,
the whole strength, and all the efforts it can make, will never be able
to prevail over the city or church of Christ.  By this promise we are
fully assured, that neither idolatry, heresy, nor any pernicious error
whatsoever shall at any time prevail over the church of Christ.
16:19. And I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven.  And
whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in
heaven:  and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, it shall be loosed
also in heaven.
Loose on earth. . .The loosing the bands of temporal punishments due to
sins, is called an indulgence; the power of which is here granted.
16:20. Then he commanded his disciples, that they should tell no one
that he was Jesus the Christ.
16:21. From that time Jesus began to shew to his disciples, that he
must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things from the ancients and
scribes and chief priests, and be put to death, and the third day rise
16:22. And Peter taking him, began to rebuke him, saying:  Lord, be it
far from thee, this shall not be unto thee.
And Peter taking him. . .That is, taking him aside, out of a tender
love, respect and zeal for his Lord and Master's honour, began to
expostulate with him, as it were to rebuke him, saying, Lord, far be it
from thee to suffer death; but the Lord said to Peter, ver. 23, Go
behind me, Satan.  These words may signify, Begone from me; but the holy
Fathers expound them otherwise, that is, come after me, or follow me;
and by these words the Lord would have Peter to follow him in his
suffering, and not to oppose the divine will by contradiction; for the
word satan means in Hebrew an adversary, or one that opposes.
16:23. Who turning, said to Peter:  Go behind me, Satan, thou art a
scandal unto me:  because thou savourest not the things that are of God,
but the things that are of men.
16:24. Then Jesus said to his disciples:  If any man will come after me,
let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.
16:25. For he that will save his life, shall lose it:  and he that shall
lose his life for my sake, shall find it.
16:26. For what doth it profit a man, if he gain the whole world and
suffer the loss of his own soul?  Or what exchange shall a man give for
16:27. For the Son of man shall come in the glory of his Father with
his angels:  and then will he render to every man according to his
16:28. Amen I say to you, there are some of them that stand here, that
shall not taste death, till they see the Son of man coming in his
Matthew Chapter 17
The Transfiguration of Christ:  He cures the lunatic child:  foretells
his passion; and pays the didrachma.
17:1. And after six days Jesus taketh unto him Peter and James, and
John his brother, and bringeth them up into a high mountain apart:
17:2. And he was transfigured before them.  And his face did shine as
the sun:  and his garments became white as snow.
17:3. And behold there appeared to them Moses and Elias talking with
17:4. And Peter answering, said to Jesus:  Lord, it is good for us to be
here:  if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one for thee,
and one for Moses, and one for Elias.
17:5. And as he was yet speaking, behold a bright cloud overshadowed
them.  And lo a voice out of the cloud, saying:  This is my beloved Son,
in whom I am well pleased:  hear ye him.
17:6. And the disciples hearing fell upon their face, and were very
much afraid.
17:7. And Jesus came and touched them:  and said to them:  Arise, and
17:8. And they lifting up their eyes, saw no one, but only Jesus.
17:9. And as they came down from the mountain, Jesus charged them,
saying:  Tell the vision to no man, till the Son of man be risen from
17:10. And his disciples asked him, saying:  Why then do the scribes say
that Elias must come first?
17:11. But he answering, said to them:  Elias indeed shall come, and
restore all things.
17:12. But I say to you, that Elias is already come, and they knew him
not, But have done unto him whatsoever they had a mind.  So also the Son
of man shall suffer from them.
17:13. Then the disciples understood, that he had spoken to them of
John the Baptist.
17:14. And when he was come to the multitude, there came to him a man
falling down on his knees before him saying:  Lord, have pity on my son,
for he is a lunatic, and suffereth much:  for he falleth often into the
fire, and often into the water.
17:15. And I brought him to thy disciples, and they could not cure him.
17:16. Then Jesus answered and said:  O unbelieving and perverse
generation, how long shall I be with you?  How long shall I suffer you?
Bring him hither to me.
17:17. And Jesus rebuked him, and the devil went out of him, and the
child was cured from that hour.
17:18. Then came the disciples to Jesus secretly, and said:  Why could
not we cast him out?
17:19. Jesus said to them:  Because of your unbelief.  For, amen I say to
you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you shall say to
this mountain:  Remove from hence hither, and it shall remove:  and
nothing shall be impossible to you.
As a grain of mustard seed. . .That is, a perfect faith; which in its
properties, and its fruits, resembles the grain of mustard seed, in the
parable, chap. 13. 31.
17:20. But this kind is not cast out but by prayer and fasting.
17:21. And when they abode together in Galilee, Jesus said to them:  The
Son of man shall be betrayed into the hands of men:
17:22. And they shall kill him, and the third day he shall rise again.
And they were troubled exceedingly.
17:23. And when they were come to Capharnaum, they that received the
didrachmas, came to Peter, and said to him:  Doth not your master pay
the didrachma?
The didrachmas. . .A didrachma was half a sicle, or half a stater; that
is, about 15d. English:  which was a tax laid upon every head for the
service of the temple.
17:24. He said:  Yes.  And when he was come into the house, Jesus
prevented him, saying:  What is thy opinion, Simon?  The kings of the
earth, of whom do they receive tribute or custom, of their own
children, or of strangers?
17:25. And he said:  Of strangers.  Jesus said to him:  Then the children
17:26. But that we may not scandalize them, go to the sea, and cast in
a hook:  and that fish which shall first come up, take:  and when thou
hast opened it's mouth, thou shalt find a stater:  take that, and give
it to them for me and thee.
Matthew Chapter 18
Christ teaches humility, to beware of scandal, and to flee the
occasions of sin:  to denounce to the church incorrigible sinners, and
to look upon such as refuse to hear the church as heathens.  He promises
to his disciples the power of binding and loosing:  and that he will be
in the midst of their assemblies.  No forgiveness for them that will not
18:1. At that hour the disciples came to Jesus, saying:  Who, thinkest
thou, is the greater in the kingdom of heaven?
18:2. And Jesus, calling unto him a little child, set him in the midst
18:3. And said:  amen I say to you, unless you be converted, and become
as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
18:4. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, he
is the greater in the kingdom of heaven.
18:5. And he that shall receive one such little child in my name,
receiveth me.
18:6. But he that shall scandalize one of these little ones that
believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone should be hanged
about his neck, and that he should be drowned in the depth of the sea.
Shall scandalize. . .That is, shall put a stumblingblock in their way,
and cause them to fall into sin.
18:7. Woe to the world because of scandals.  For it must needs be that
scandals come:  but nevertheless woe to that man by whom the scandal
It must needs be, etc. . .Viz., considering the wickedness and
corruption of the world.
18:8. And if thy hand, or thy foot, scandalize thee, cut it off, and
cast it from thee.  It is better for thee to go into life maimed or
lame, than having two hands or two feet, to be cast into everlasting
Scandalize thee. . .That is, cause thee to offend.
18:9. And if thy eye scandalize thee, pluck it out, and cast it from
thee.  It is better for thee having one eye to enter into life, than
having two eyes to be cast into hell fire.
18:10. See that you despise not one of these little ones:  for I say to
you, that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father who
is in heaven.
18:11. For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost.
18:12. What think you?  If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them
should go astray:  doth he not leave the ninety-nine in the mountains,
and goeth to seek that which is gone astray?
18:13. And if it so be that he find it:  Amen I say to you, he rejoiceth
more for that, than for the ninety-nine that went not astray.
18:14. Even so it is not the will of your Father, who is in heaven,
that one of these little ones should perish.
18:15. But if thy brother shall offend against thee, go, and rebuke him
between thee and him alone.  If he shall hear thee, thou shalt gain thy
18:16. And if he will not hear thee, take with thee one or two more:
that in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may stand.
18:17. And if he will not hear them:  tell the church.  And if he will
not hear the church, let him be to thee as the heathen and publican.
18:18. Amen I say to you, whatsoever you shall bind upon earth, shall
be bound also in heaven:  and whatsoever you shall loose upon earth,
shall be loosed also in heaven.
18:19. Again I say to you, that if two of you shall consent upon earth,
concerning anything whatsoever they shall ask, it shall be done to them
by my Father who is in heaven.
18:20. For where there are two or three gathered together in my name,
there am I in the midst of them.
There am I in the midst of them. . .This is understood of such
assemblies only as are gathered in the name and authority of Christ;
and in unity of the church of Christ.  St. Cyprian, De Unitate
18:21. Then came Peter unto him and said:  Lord, how often shall my
brother offend against me, and I forgive him?  till seven times?
18:22. Jesus saith to him:  I say not to thee, till seven times; but
till seventy times seven times.
18:23. Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened to a king, who would
take an account of his servants.
18:24. And when he had begun to take the account, one as brought to
him, that owed him ten thousand talents.
Talents. . .A talent was seven hundred and fifty ounces of silver, which
at the rate of five shillings to the ounce is a hundred and
eighty-seven pounds ten shillings sterling.
18:25. And as he had not wherewith to pay it, his lord commanded that
he should be sold, and his wife and children, and all that he had, and
payment to be made.
18:26. But that servant falling down, besought him, saying:  Have
patience with me, and I will pay thee all.
18:27. And the lord of that servant being moved with pity, let him go
and forgave him the debt.
18:28. But when that servant was gone out, he found one of his
fellow-servants that owed him an hundred pence:  and laying hold of him,
he throttled him, saying:  Pay what thou owest.
Pence. . .The Roman penny was the eighth part of an ounce, that is,
about sevenpence half-penny English.
18:29. And his fellow-servant falling down, besought him, saying:  Have
patience with me, and I will pay thee all.
18:30. And he would not:  but went and cast him into prison, till he
paid the debt.
18:31. Now his fellow servants seeing what was done, were very much
grieved, and they came, and told their lord all that was done.
18:32. Then his lord called him:  and said to him:  Thou wicked servant,
I forgave thee all the debt, because thou besoughtest me:
18:33. Shouldst not thou then have had compassion also on thy fellow
servant, even as I had compassion on thee?
18:34. And his lord being angry, delivered him to the torturers until
he paid all the debt.
18:35. So also shall my heavenly Father do to you, if you forgive not
every one his brother from your hearts.
Matthew Chapter 19
Christ declares matrimony to be indissoluble:  he recommends the making
one's self an eunuch for the kingdom of heaven; and parting with all
things for him.  He shews the danger of riches, and the reward of
leaving all to follow him.
19:1. And it came to pass when Jesus had ended these words, he departed
from Galilee and came into the coasts of Judea, beyond Jordan.
19:2. And great multitudes followed him:  and he healed them there.
19:3. And there came to him the Pharisees tempting him, saying:  Is it
lawful for a man to put away his wife for every cause?
19:4. Who answering, said to them:  Have ye not read, that he who made
man from the beginning, made them male and female?  And he said:
19:5. For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall
cleave to his wife, and they two shall be in one flesh.
19:6. Therefore now they are not two, but one flesh.  What therefore God
hath joined together, let no man put asunder.
19:7. They say to him:  Why then did Moses command to give a bill of
divorce, and to put away?
19:8. He saith to them:  Because Moses by reason of the hardness of your
heart permitted you to put away your wives:  but from the beginning it
19:9. And I say to you, that whosoever shall put away his wife, except
it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery:
and he that shall marry her that is put away, committeth adultery.
Except it be, etc. . .In the case of fornication, that is, of adultery,
the wife may be put away:  but even then the husband cannot marry
another as long as the wife is living.
19:10. His disciples say unto him:  If the case of a man with his wife
be so, it is not expedient to marry.
19:11. Who said to them:  All men take not this word, but they to whom
it is given.
All men take not this word. . .That is, all receive not the gift of
living singly and chastely, unless they pray for the grace of God to
enable them to live so, and for some it may be necessary to that end to
fast as well as pray:  and to those it is given from above.
19:12. For there are eunuchs, who were born so from their mothers womb:
and there are eunuchs, who were made so by men:  and there are eunuchs,
who have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven.  He that can
take, let him take it.
There are eunuchs, who have made themselves eunuchs, for the kingdom of
heaven. . .This text is not to be taken in the literal sense; but means,
that there are such, who have taken a firm and commendable resolution
of leading a single and chaste life, in order to serve God in a more
perfect state than those who marry:  as St. Paul clearly shews.  1 Cor.
19:13. Then were little children presented to him, that he should
impose hands upon them and pray.  And the disciples rebuked them.
19:14. But Jesus said to them:  Suffer the little children, and forbid
them not to come to me:  for the kingdom of heaven is for such.
19:15. And when he had imposed hands upon them, he departed from
19:16. And behold one came and said to him:  Good master, what good
shall I do that I may have life everlasting?
19:17. Who said to him:  Why askest thou me concerning good?  One is
good, God.  But if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments.
19:18. He said to him:  Which?  And Jesus said:  Thou shalt do no murder,
Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not
bear false witness.
19:19. Honour thy father and thy mother:  and, Thou shalt love thy
neighbor as thyself.
19:20. The young man saith to him:  All these have I kept from my youth,
what is yet wanting to me?
19:21. Jesus saith to him:  If thou wilt be perfect, go sell what thou
hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven:  and
come, follow me.
19:22. And when the young man had heard this word, he went away sad:
for he had great possessions.
19:23. Then Jesus said to his disciples:  Amen, I say to you, that a
rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven.
19:24. And again I say to you:  It is easier for a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of
19:25. And when they had heard this, the disciples wondered much,
saying:  Who then can be saved?
19:26. And Jesus beholding, said to them:  With men this is impossible:
but with God all things are possible.
19:27. Then Peter answering, said to him:  Behold we have left all
things, and have followed thee:  what therefore shall we have?
19:28. And Jesus said to them:  Amen I say to you, that you who have
followed me, in the regeneration, when the Son of man shall sit on the
seat of his majesty, you also shall sit on twelve seats judging the
twelve tribes of Israel.
19:29. And every one that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or
father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for my name's sake,
shall receive an hundredfold, and shall possess life everlasting.
19:30. And many that are first, shall be last:  and the last shall be
Matthew Chapter 20
The parable of the labourers in the vineyard.  The ambition of the two
sons of Zebedee.  Christ gives sight to two blind men.
20:1. The kingdom of heaven is like to an householder, who went out
early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard.
20:2. And having agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent
them into his vineyard.
20:3. And going out about the third hour, he saw others standing in the
marketplace idle.
20:4. And he said to them:  Go you also into my vineyard, and I will
give you what shall be just.
20:5. And they went their way.  And again he went out about the sixth
and the ninth hour, and did in like manner.
20:6. But about the eleventh hour he went out and found others
standing, and he saith to them:  Why stand you here all the day idle?
20:7. They say to him:  Because no man hath hired us.  He saith to them:
Go ye also into my vineyard.
20:8. And when evening was come, the lord of the vineyard saith to his
steward:  Call the labourers and pay them their hire, beginning from the
last even to the first.
20:9. When therefore they were come that came about the eleventh hour,
they received every man a penny.
20:10. But when the first also came, they thought that they should
receive more:  And they also received every man a penny.
20:11. And receiving it they murmured against the master of the house,
20:12. Saying:  These last have worked but one hour.  and thou hast made
them equal to us, that have borne the burden of the day and the heats.
20:13. But he answering said to one of them:  friend, I do thee no
wrong:  didst thou not agree with me for a penny?
20:14. Take what is thine, and go thy way:  I will also give to this
last even as to thee.
20:15. Or, is it not lawful for me to do what I will?  Is thy eye evil,
because I am good?
What I will. . .Viz., with my own, and in matters that depend on my own
20:16. So shall the last be first and the first last.  For many are
called but few chosen.
20:17. And Jesus going up to Jerusalem, took the twelve disciples apart
and said to them:
20:18. Behold we go up to Jerusalem, and the Son of man shall be
betrayed to the chief priests and the scribes:  and they shall condemn
him to death.
20:19. And shall deliver him to the Gentiles to be mocked and scourged
and crucified:  and the third day he shall rise again.
20:20. Then came to him the mother of the sons of Zebedee with her
sons, adoring and asking something of him.
20:21. Who said to her:  What wilt thou?  She saith to him:  say that
these my two sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other on
thy left, in thy kingdom.
20:22. And Jesus answering, said:  You know not what you ask.  Can you
drink the chalice that I shall drink?  They say to him:  We can.
20:23. He saith to them:  My chalice indeed you shall drink; but to sit
on my right or left hand is not mine to give to you, but to them for
whom it is prepared by my Father.
20:24. And the ten, hearing it, were moved with indignation against the
two brethren.
20:25. But Jesus called them to him and said:  You know that the princes
of the Gentiles lord it over them; and that they that are the greater,
exercise power upon them.
20:26. It shall not be so among you:  but whosoever is the greater among
you, let him be your minister.
20:27. And he that will be first among you shall be your servant.
20:28. Even as the Son of man is not come to be ministered unto, but to
minister and to give his life a redemption for many.
20:29. And when they went out from Jericho, a great multitude followed
20:30. And behold two blind men sitting by the way side heard that
Jesus passed by.  And they cried out, saying:  O Lord, thou son of David,
have mercy on us.
20:31. And the multitude rebuked them that they should hold their
peace.  But they cried out the more, saying:  O Lord, thou son of David,
have mercy on us.
20:32. And Jesus stood and called them and said:  What will ye that I do
20:33. They say to him:  Lord, that our eyes be opened.
20:34. And Jesus having compassion on them, touched their eyes.  And
immediately they saw and followed him.
Matthew Chapter 21
Christ rides into Jerusalem upon an ass.  He casts the buyers and
sellers out of the temple, curses the fig tree and puts to silence the
priests and scribes.
21:1. And when they drew nigh to Jerusalem and were come to Bethphage,
unto mount Olivet, then Jesus sent two disciples,
21:2. Saying to them:  Go ye into the village that is over against you:
and immediately you shall find an ass tied and a colt with her.  Loose
them and bring them to me.
21:3. And if any man shall say anything to you, say ye that the Lord
hath need of them.  And forthwith he will let them go.
21:4. Now all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken
by the prophet, saying:
21:5. Tell ye the daughter of Sion:  Behold thy king cometh to thee,
meek and sitting upon an ass and a colt, the foal of her that is used
to the yoke.
21:6. And the disciples going, did as Jesus commanded them.
21:7. And they brought the ass and the colt and laid their garments
upon them and made him sit thereon.
21:8. And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way:  and
others cut boughs from the trees and strewed them in the way.
21:9. And the multitudes that went before and that followed cried,
saying:  Hosanna to the son of David:  Blessed is he that cometh in the
name of the Lord:  Hosanna in the highest.
21:10. And when he was come into Jerusalem, the whole city was moved,
saying:  Who is this?
21:11. And the people said:  This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth of
21:12. And Jesus went into the temple of God and cast out all them that
sold and bought in the temple and overthrew the tables of the money
changers and the chairs of them that sold doves.
21:13. And he saith to them:  It is written, My house shall be called
the house of prayer; but you have made it a den of thieves.
21:14. And there came to him the blind and the lame in the temple:  and
he healed them.
21:15. And the chief priests and scribes, seeing the wonderful things
that he did and the children crying in the temple and saying:  Hosanna
to the son of David, were moved with indignation,
21:16. And said to him:  Hearest thou what these say?  And Jesus said to
them:  Yea, have you never read:  Out of the mouth of infants and of
sucklings thou hast perfected praise?
21:17. And leaving them, he went out of the city into Bethania and
remained here.
21:18. And in the morning, returning into the city, he was hungry.
21:19. And seeing a certain fig tree by the way side, he came to it and
found nothing on it but leaves only.  And he saith to it:  May no fruit
grow on thee henceforward for ever.  And immediately the fig tree
withered away.
21:20. And the disciples seeing it wondered, saying:  How is it
presently withered away?
21:21. And Jesus answering, said to them:  Amen, I say to you, if you
shall have faith and stagger not, not only this of the fig tree shall
you do, but also if you shall say to this mountain, Take up and cast
thyself into the sea, it shall be done.
21:22. And all things whatsoever you shall ask in prayer believing, you
shall receive.
21:23. And when he was come into the temple, there came to him, as he
was teaching, the chief priests and ancients of the people, saying:  By
what authority dost thou these things?  And who hath given thee this
21:24. Jesus answering, said to them:  I also will ask you one word,
which if you shall tell me, I will also tell you by what authority I do
these things.
21:25. The baptism of John, whence was it?  From heaven or from men?  But
they thought within themselves, saying:
21:26. If we shall say, from heaven, he will say to us:  Why then did
you not believe him?  But if we shall say, from men, we are afraid of
the multitude:  for all held John as a prophet.
21:27. And answering Jesus, they said:  We know not.  He also said to
them:  Neither do I tell you by what authority I do these things.
21:28. But what think you?  A certain man had two sons:  and coming to
the first, he said:  Son, go work to day in my vineyard.
21:29. And he answering, said:  I will not.  But afterwards, being moved
with repentance, he went.
21:30. And coming to the other, he said in like manner.  And he
answering said:  I go, Sir.  And he went not.
21:31. Which of the two did the father's will?  They say to him:  The
first.  Jesus saith to them:  Amen I say to you that the publicans and
the harlots shall go into the kingdom of God before you.
21:32. For John came to you in the way of justice:  and you did not
believe him.  But the publicans and the harlots believed him:  but you,
seeing it, did not even afterwards repent, that you might believe him.
21:33. Hear ye another parable.  There was a man, an householder, who
planted a vineyard and made a hedge round about it and dug in it a
press and built a tower and let it out to husbandmen and went into a
strange country.
21:34. And when the time of the fruits drew nigh, he sent his servants
to the husbandmen that they might receive the fruits thereof.
21:35. And the husbandmen laying hands on his servants, beat one and
killed another and stoned another.
21:36. Again he sent other servants, more than the former; and they did
to them in like manner.
21:37. And last of all he sent to them his son, saying:  They will
reverence my son.
21:38. But the husbandmen seeing the son, said among themselves:  This
is the heir:  come, let us kill him, and we shall have his inheritance.
21:39. And taking him, they cast him forth out of the vineyard and
21:40. When therefore the lord of the vineyard shall come, what will he
do to those husbandmen?
21:41. They say to him:  He will bring those evil men to an evil end and
let out his vineyard to other husbandmen that shall render him the
fruit in due season.
21:42. Jesus saith to them:  Have you never read in the Scriptures:  The
stone which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the
corner?  By the Lord this has been done; and it is wonderful in our
21:43. Therefore I say to you that the kingdom of God shall be taken
from you and shall be given to a nation yielding the fruits thereof.
21:44. And whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken:  but on
whomsoever it shall fall, it shall grind him to powder.
21:45. And when the chief priests and Pharisees had heard his parables,
they knew that he spoke of them.
21:46. And seeking to lay hands on him, they feared the multitudes,
because they held him as a prophet.
Matthew Chapter 22
The parable of the marriage feast.  Christ orders tribute to be paid to
Caesar.  He confutes the Sadducees, shews which is the first commandment
in the law and puzzles the Pharisees.
22:1. And Jesus answering, spoke again in parables to them, saying:
22:2. The kingdom of heaven is likened to a king who made a marriage
for his son.
22:3. And he sent his servants to call them that were invited to the
marriage:  and they would not come.
22:4. Again he sent other servants, saying:  Tell them that were
invited, Behold, I have prepared my dinner:  my beeves and fatlings are
killed, and all things are ready.  Come ye to the marriage.
22:5. But they neglected and went their ways, one to his farm and
another to his merchandise.
22:6. And the rest laid hands on his servants and, having treated them
contumeliously, put them to death.
22:7. But when the king had heard of it, he was angry:  and sending his
armies, he destroyed those murderers and burnt their city.
22:8. Then he saith to his servants:  The marriage indeed is ready; but
they that were invited were not worthy.
22:9. Go ye therefore into the highways; and as many as you shall find,
call to the marriage.
22:10. And his servants going forth into the ways, gathered together
all that they found, both bad and good:  and the marriage was filled
with guests.
22:11. And the king went in to see the guests:  and he saw there a man
who had not on a wedding garment.
22:12. And he saith to him:  Friend, how camest thou in hither not
having on a wedding garment?  But he was silent.
22:13. Then the king said to the waiters:  Bind his hands and feet, and
cast him into the exterior darkness.  There shall be weeping and
gnashing of teeth.
22:14. For many are called, but few are chosen.
22:15. Then the Pharisees going, consulted among themselves how to
insnare him in his speech.
22:16. And they sent to him their disciples with the Herodians, saying:
Master, we know that thou art a true speaker and teachest the way of
God in truth.  Neither carest thou for any man:  for thou dost not regard
the person of men.
The Herodians. . .That is, some that belonged to Herod, and that joined
with him in standing up for the necessity of paying tribute to Caesar,
that is, to the Roman emperor.  Some are of opinion that there was a
sect among the Jews called Herodians, from their maintaining that Herod
was the Messias.
22:17. Tell us therefore what dost thou think?  Is it lawful to give
tribute to Caesar, or not?
22:18. But Jesus knowing their wickedness, said:  Why do you tempt me,
ye hypocrites?
22:19. Shew me the coin of the tribute.  And they offered him a penny.
22:20. And Jesus saith to them:  Whose image and inscription is this?
22:21. They say to him:  Caesar's.  Then he saith to them:  Render
therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and to God, the
things that are God's.
22:22. And hearing this, they wondered and, leaving him, went their
22:23. That day there came to him the Sadducees, who say there is no
resurrection; and asked him,
22:24. Saying:  Master, Moses said:  If a man die having no son, his
brother shall marry his wife and raise up issue to his brother.
22:25. Now there were with us seven brethren:  and the first having
married a wife, died; and not having issue, left his wife to his
22:26. In like manner the second and the third and so on, to the
22:27. And last of all the woman died also.
22:28. At the resurrection therefore, whose wife of the seven shall she
be?  For they all had her.
22:29. And Jesus answering, said to them:  You err, not knowing the
Scriptures nor the power of God.
22:30. For in the resurrection they shall neither marry nor be married,
but shall be as the angels of God in heaven.
22:31. And concerning the resurrection of the dead, have you not read
that which was spoken by God, saying to you:
22:32. I am the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac and the God of
Jacob?  He is not the God of the dead but of the living.
22:33. And the multitudes hearing it were in admiration at his
22:34. But the Pharisees, hearing that he had silenced the Sadducees,
came together.
22:35. And one of them, a doctor of the law, asked him, tempting him:
22:36. Master, which is the great commandment in the law?
22:37. Jesus said to him:  Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy
whole heart and with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind.
22:38. This is the greatest and the first commandment.
22:39. And the second is like to this:  Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
22:40. On these two commandments dependeth the whole law and the
22:41. And the Pharisees being gathered together, Jesus asked them,
22:42. Saying:  What think you of Christ?  Whose son is he?  They say to
him:  David's.
22:43. He saith to them:  How then doth David in spirit call him Lord,
22:44. The Lord said to my Lord:  Sit on my right hand, until I make thy
enemies thy footstool?
22:45. If David then call him Lord, how is he his son?
22:46. And no man was able to answer him a word:  neither durst any man
from that day forth ask him any more questions.
Matthew Chapter 23
Christ admonishes the people to follow the good doctrine, not the bad
example of the scribes and Pharisees.  He warns his disciples not to
imitate their ambition and denounces divers woes against them for their
hypocrisy and blindness.
23:1. Then Jesus spoke to the multitudes and to his disciples,
23:2. Saying:  The scribes and the Pharisees have sitten on the chair of
23:3. All things therefore whatsoever they shall say to you, observe
and do:  but according to their works do ye not.  For they say, and do
23:4. For they bind heavy and insupportable burdens and lay them on
men's shoulders:  but with a finger of their own they will not move
23:5. And all their works they do for to be seen of men.  For they make
their phylacteries broad and enlarge their fringes.
Phylacteries. . .that is, parchments, on which they wrote the ten
commandments, and carried them on their foreheads before their eyes:
which the Pharisees affected to wear broader than other men; so to seem
more zealous for the law.
23:6. And they love the first places at feasts and the first chairs in
the synagogues,
23:7. And salutations in the market place, and to be called by men,
23:8. But be not you called Rabbi.  For one is your master:  and all you
are brethren.
23:9. And call none your father upon earth; for one is your father, who
is in heaven.
Call none your father--Neither be ye called masters, etc. . .The
meaning is that our Father in heaven is incomparably more to be
regarded, than any father upon earth:  and no master to be followed, who
would lead us away from Christ.  But this does not hinder but that we
are by the law of God to have a due respect both for our parents and
spiritual fathers, (1 Cor. 4. 23:15,) and for our masters and teachers.
23:10. Neither be ye called masters:  for one is your master, Christ.
23:11. He that is the greatest among you shall be your servant.
23:12. And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be humbled:  and he that
shall humble himself shall be exalted.
23:13. But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you
shut the kingdom of heaven against men:  for you yourselves do not enter
in and those that are going in, you suffer not to enter.
23:14. Woe to you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you devour
the houses of widows, praying long prayers.  For this you shall receive
the greater judgment.
23:15. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you go
round about the sea and the land to make one proselyte.  And when he is
made, you make him the child of hell twofold more than yourselves.
23:16. Woe to you, blind guides, that say, Whosoever shall swear by the
temple, it is nothing; but he that shall swear by the gold of the
temple is a debtor.
23:17. Ye foolish and blind:  for whether is greater, the gold or the
temple that sanctifieth the gold?
23:18. And whosoever shall swear by the altar, it is nothing; but
whosoever shall swear by the gift that is upon it is a debtor.
23:19. Ye foolish and blind:  for whether is greater, the gift or the
altar that sanctifieth the gift?
23:20. He therefore that sweareth by the altar sweareth by it and by
all things that are upon it.
23:21. And whosoever shall swear by the temple sweareth by it and by
him that dwelleth in it.
23:22. And he that sweareth by heaven sweareth by the throne of God and
by him that sitteth thereon.
23:23. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites; because you tithe
mint and anise and cummin and have left the weightier things of the
law:  judgment and mercy and faith.  These things you ought to have done
and not to leave those undone.
23:24. Blind guides, who strain out a gnat and swallow a camel.
23:25. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites; because you make
clean the outside of the cup and of the dish, but within you are full
of rapine and uncleanness.
23:26. Thou blind Pharisee, first make clean the inside of the cup and
of the dish, that the outside may become clean.
23:27. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites; because you are
like to whited sepulchres, which outwardly appear to men beautiful but
within are full of dead men's bones and of all filthiness.
23:28. So you also outwardly indeed appear to men just:  but inwardly
you are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.
23:29. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, that build the
sepulchres of the prophets and adorn the monuments of the just,
Build the sepulchres, etc. . .This is not blamed, as if it were in
itself evil to build or adorn the monuments of the prophets:  but the
hypocrisy of the Pharisees is here taxed; who, whilst they pretended to
honour the memory of the prophets, were persecuting even unto death the
Lord of the prophets.
23:30. And say:  If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not
have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets.
23:31. Wherefore you are witnesses against yourselves, that you are the
sons of them that killed the prophets.
23:32. Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers.
23:33. You serpents, generation of vipers, how will you flee from the
judgment of hell?
23:34. Therefore behold I send to you prophets and wise men and
scribes:  and some of them you will put to death and crucify:  and some
you will scourge in your synagogues and persecute from city to city.
23:35. That upon you may come all the just blood that hath been shed
upon the earth, from the blood of Abel the just, even unto the blood of
Zacharias the son of Barachias, whom you killed between the temple and
That upon you may come, etc. . .Not that they should suffer more than
their own sins justly deserved; but that the justice of God should now
fall upon them with such a final vengeance, once for all, as might
comprise all the different kinds of judgments and punishments, that had
at any time before been inflicted for the shedding of just blood.
23:36. Amen I say to you, all these things shall come upon this
23:37. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets and stonest
them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered together
thy children, as the hen doth gather her chickens under her wings, and
thou wouldst not?
23:38. Behold, your house shall be left to you, desolate.
23:39. For I say to you, you shall not see me henceforth till you say:
Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.
Matthew Chapter 24
Christ foretells the destruction of the temple, with the signs that
shall come before it and before the last judgment.  We must always
24:1. And Jesus being come out of the temple, went away.  And his
disciples came to shew him the buildings of the temple.
24:2. And he answering, said to them:  Do you see all these things?  Amen
I say to you, there shall not be left here a stone upon a stone that
shall not be destroyed.
24:3. And when he was sitting on mount Olivet, the disciples came to
him privately, saying:  Tell us when shall these things be?  And what
shall be the sign of thy coming and of the consummation of the world?
24:4. And Jesus answering, said to them:  Take heed that no man seduce
24:5. For many will come in my name saying, I am Christ.  And they will
seduce many.
24:6. And you shall hear of wars and rumours of wars.  See that ye be
not troubled.  For these things must come to pass:  but the end is not
24:7. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against
kingdom:  And there shall be pestilences and famines and earthquakes in
24:8. Now all these are the beginnings of sorrows.
24:9. Then shall they deliver you up to be afflicted and shall put you
to death:  and you shall be hated by all nations for my name's sake.
24:10. And then shall many be scandalized and shall betray one another
and shall hate one another.
24:11. And many false prophets shall rise and shall seduce many.
24:12. And because iniquity hath abounded, the charity of many shall
24:13. But he that shall persevere to the end, he shall be saved.
24:14. And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole
world, for a testimony to all nations:  and then shall the consummation
24:15. When therefore you shall see the abomination of desolation,
which was spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place:
he that readeth let him understand.
24:16. Then they that are in Judea, let them flee to the mountains:
24:17. And he that is on the housetop, let him not come down to take
any thing out of his house:
24:18. And he that is in the field, let him not go back to take his
24:19. And woe to them that are with child and that give suck in those
24:20. But pray that your flight be not in the winter or on the
24:21. For there shall be then great tribulation, such as hath not been
from the beginning of the world until now, neither shall be.
24:22. And unless those days had been shortened, no flesh should be
saved:  but for the sake of the elect those days shall be shortened.
24:23. Then if any man shall say to you, Lo here is Christ, or there:
do not believe him.
24:24. For there shall arise false Christs and false prophets and shall
shew great signs and wonders, insomuch as to deceive (if possible) even
24:25. Behold I have told it to you, beforehand.
24:26. If therefore they shall say to you, Behold he is in the desert:
go ye not out.  Behold he is in the closets:  believe it not.
24:27. For as lightning cometh out of the east and appeareth even into
the west:  so shall also the cowling of the Son of man be.
24:28. Wheresoever the body shall be, there shall the eagles also be
gathered together.
Wheresoever, etc. . .The coming of Christ shall be sudden, and manifest
to all the world, like lightning:  and wheresoever he shall come,
thither shall all mankind be gathered to him, as eagles are gathered
about a dead body.
24:29. And immediately after the tribulation of those days, the sun
shall be darkened and the moon shall not give her light and the stars
shall fall from heaven and the powers of heaven shall be moved.
The stars. . .Or flaming meteors resembling stars.
24:30. And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven.  And
then shall all tribes of the earth mourn:  and they shall see the Son of
man coming in the clouds of heaven with much power and majesty.
The sign, etc. . .The cross of Christ.
24:31. And he shall send his angels with a trumpet and a great voice:
and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from the
farthest parts of the heavens to the utmost bounds of them.
24:32. And from the fig tree learn a parable:  When the branch thereof
is now tender and the leaves come forth, you know that summer is nigh.
24:33. So you also, when you shall see all these things, know ye that
it is nigh, even at the doors.
24:34. Amen I say to you that this generation shall not pass till all
these things be done.
24:35. Heaven and earth shall pass:  but my words shall not pass.
Shall pass. . .Because they shall be changed at the end of the world
into a new heaven and new earth.
24:36. But of that day and hour no one knoweth:  no, not the angels of
heaven, but the Father alone.
24:37. And as in the days of Noe, so shall also the coming of the Son
24:38. For, as in the days before the flood they were eating and
drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, even till that day in which
Noe entered into the ark:
24:39. And they knew not till the flood came and took them all away:  so
also shall the coming of the Son of man be.
24:40. Then two shall be in the field.  One shall be taken and one shall
24:41. Two women shall be grinding at the mill.  One shall be taken and
one shall be left.
24:42. Watch ye therefore, because you know not what hour your Lord
24:43. But this know ye, that, if the goodman of the house knew at what
hour the thief would come, he would certainly watch and would not
suffer his house to be broken open.
24:44. Wherefore be you also ready, because at what hour you know not
the Son of man will come.
24:45. Who, thinkest thou, is a faithful and wise servant, whom his
lord hath appointed over his family, to give them meat in season?
24:46. Blessed is that servant, whom when his lord shall come he shall
find so doing.
24:47. Amen I say to you:  he shall place him over all his goods.
24:48. But if that evil servant shall say in his heart:  My lord is long
24:49. And shall begin to strike his fellow servants and shall eat and
drink with drunkards:
24:50. The lord of that servant shall come in a day that he hopeth not
and at an hour that he knoweth not:
24:51. And shall separate him and appoint his portion with the
hypocrites.  There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Matthew Chapter 25
The parable of the ten virgins and of the talents.  The description of
the last judgment.
25:1. Then shall the kingdom of heaven be like to ten virgins, who
taking their lamps went out to meet the bridegroom and the bride.
25:2. And five of them were foolish and five wise.
25:3. But the five foolish, having taken their lamps, did not take oil
25:4. But the wise took oil in their vessels with the lamps.
25:5. And the bridegroom tarrying, they all slumbered and slept.
25:6. And at midnight there was a cry made:  Behold the bridegroom
cometh.  Go ye forth to meet him.
25:7. Then all those virgins arose and trimmed their lamps.
25:8. And the foolish said to the wise:  Give us of your oil, for our
lamps are gone out.
25:9. The wise answered, saying:  Lest perhaps there be not enough for
us and for you, go ye rather to them that sell and buy for yourselves.
25:10. Now whilst they went to buy the bridegroom came:  and they that
were ready went in with him to the marriage.  And the door was shut.
25:11. But at last came also the other virgins, saying:  Lord, Lord,
25:12. But he answering said:  Amen I say to you, I know you not.
25:13. Watch ye therefore, because you know not the day nor the hour.
25:14. For even as a man going into a far country called his servants
and delivered to them his goods;
25:15. And to one he gave five talents, and to another two, and to
another one, to every one according to his proper ability:  and
immediately he took his journey.
25:16. And he that had received the five talents went his way and
traded with the same and gained other five.
25:17. And in like manner he that had received the two gained other
25:18. But he that had received the one, going his way, digged into the
earth and hid his lord's money.
25:19. But after a long time the lord of those servants came and
reckoned with them.
25:20. And he that had received the five talents coming, brought other
five talents, saying:  Lord, thou didst deliver to me five talents.
Behold I have gained other five over and above.
25:21. His lord said to him:  Well done, good and faithful servant,
because thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will place thee
over many things.  Enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
25:22. And he also that had received the two talents came and said:
Lord, thou deliveredst two talents to me.  Behold I have gained other
25:23. His lord said to him:  Well done, good and faithful servant:
because thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will place thee
over many things.  Enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
25:24. But he that had received the one talent, came and said:  Lord, I
know that thou art a hard man; thou reapest where thou hast not sown
and gatherest where thou hast not strewed.
25:25. And being afraid, I went and hid thy talent in the earth.  Behold
here thou hast that which is thine.
25:26. And his lord answering, said to him:  Wicked and slothful
servant, thou knewest that I reap where I sow not and gather where I
have not strewed.
25:27. Thou oughtest therefore to have committed my money to the
bankers:  and at my coming I should have received my own with usury.
25:28. Take ye away therefore the talent from him and give it him that
hath ten talents.
25:29. For to every one that hath shall be given, and he shall abound:
but from him that hath not, that also which he seemeth to have shall be
25:30. And the unprofitable servant, cast ye out into the exterior
darkness.  There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
25:31. And when the Son of man shall come in his majesty, and all the
angels with him, then shall he sit upon the seat of his majesty.
25:32. And all nations shall be gathered together before him:  and he
shall separate them one from another, as the shepherd separateth the
sheep from the goats:
25:33. And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on
25:34. Then shall the king say to them that shall be on his right hand:
Come, ye blessed of my Father, possess you the kingdom prepared for you
from the foundation of the world.
25:35. For I was hungry, and you gave me to eat:  I was thirsty, and you
gave me to drink:  I was a stranger, and you took me in:
25:36. Naked, and you covered me:  sick, and you visited me:  I was in
prison, and you came to me.
25:37. Then shall the just answer him, saying:  Lord, when did we see
thee hungry and fed thee:  thirsty and gave thee drink?
25:38. Or when did we see thee a stranger and took thee in?  Or naked
and covered thee?
25:39. Or when did we see thee sick or in prison and came to thee?
25:40. And the king answering shall say to them:  Amen I say to you, as
long as you did it to one of these my least brethren, you did it to me.
25:41. Then he shall say to them also that shall be on his left hand:
Depart from me, you cursed, into everlasting fire, which was prepared
for the devil and his angels.
25:42. For I was hungry and you gave me not to eat:  I was thirsty and
you gave me not to drink.
25:43. I was a stranger and you took me not in:  naked and you covered
me not:  sick and in prison and you did not visit me.
25:44. Then they also shall answer him, saying:  Lord, when did we see
thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and
did not minister to thee?
25:45. Then he shall answer them, saying:  Amen:  I say to you, as long
as you did it not to one of these least, neither did you do it to me.
25:46. And these shall go into everlasting punishment:  but the just,
into life everlasting.
Matthew Chapter 26
The Jews conspire against Christ.  He is anointed by Mary.  The treason
of Judas.  The last supper.  The prayer in the garden.  The apprehension
of our Lord.  His treatment in the house of Caiphas.
26:1. And it came to pass, when Jesus had ended all these words, he
said to his disciples:
26:2. You know that after two days shall be the pasch:  and the Son of
man shall be delivered up to be crucified.
26:3. Then were gathered together the chief priests and ancients of the
people, into the court of the high priest, who was called Caiphas:
26:4. And they consulted together that by subtilty they might apprehend
Jesus and put him to death.
26:5. But they said:  Not on the festival day, lest perhaps there should
be a tumult among the people.
26:6. And when Jesus was in Bethania, in the house of Simon the leper,
26:7. There came to him a woman having an alabaster box of precious
ointment and poured it on his head as he was at table.
26:8. And the disciples seeing it had indignation, saying:  To what
purpose is this waste?
26:9. For this might have been sold for much and given to the poor.
26:10. And Jesus knowing it, said to them:  Why do you trouble this
woman?  For she hath wrought a good work upon me.
26:11. For the poor you have always with you:  but me you have not
Me you have not always. . .Viz., in a visible manner, as when conversant
here on earth; and as we have the poor, whom we may daily assist and
26:12. For she in pouring this ointment on my body hath done it for my
26:13. Amen I say to you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in
the whole world, that also which she hath done shall be told for a
memory of her.
26:14. Then went one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, to
the chief priests.
26:15. And said to them:  What will you give me, and I will deliver him
unto you?  But they appointed him thirty pieces of silver.
26:16. And from thenceforth he sought opportunity to betray him.
26:17. And on the first day of the Azymes, the disciples came to Jesus,
saying:  Where wilt thou that we prepare for thee to eat the pasch?
Azymes. . .Feast of the unleavened bread.  Pasch. . .The paschal lamb.
26:18. But Jesus said:  Go ye into the city to a certain man and say to
him:  The master saith, My time is near at hand.  With thee I make the
pasch with my disciples.
26:19. And the disciples did as Jesus appointed to them:  and they
prepared the pasch.
26:20. But when it was evening, he sat down with his twelve disciples.
26:21. And whilst they were eating, he said:  Amen I say to you that one
of you is about to betray me.
26:22. And they being very much troubled began every one to say:  Is it
26:23. But he answering said:  He that dippeth his hand with me in the
dish, he shall betray me.
26:24. The Son of man indeed goeth, as it is written of him.  But woe to
that man by whom the Son of man shall be betrayed.  It were better for
him, if that man had not been born.
26:25. And Judas that betrayed him answering, said:  Is it I, Rabbi?  He
saith to him:  Thou hast said it.
26:26. And whilst they were at supper, Jesus took bread and blessed and
broke and gave to his disciples and said:  Take ye and eat.  This is my
This is my body. . .He does not say, This is the figure of my body--but
This is my body.  (2 Council of Nice, Act. 6.)  Neither does he say in
this, or with this is my body; but absolutely, This is my body:  which
plainly implies transubstantiation.
26:27. And taking the chalice, he gave thanks and gave to them, saying:
Drink ye all of this.
Drink ye all of this. . .This was spoken to the twelve apostles; who
were the all then present; and they all drank of it, says St. Mark 14.
23. But it no ways follows from these words spoken to the apostles,
that all the faithful are here commanded to drink of the chalice; any
more than that all the faithful are commanded to consecrate, offer and
administer this sacrament; because Christ upon this same occasion, and
at the same time, bid the apostles do so; in these words, St. Luke 22.
19, Do this for a commemoration of me.
26:28. For this is my blood of the new testament, which shall be shed
for many unto remission of sins.
Blood of the new testament. . .As the old testament was dedicated with
the blood of victims, by Moses, in these words:  This is the blood of
the testament, etc., Heb. 9. 20; so here is the dedication and
institution of the new testament, in the blood of Christ, here
mystically shed by these words:  This is the blood of the new testament,
26:29. And I say to you, I will not drink from henceforth of this fruit
of the vine until that day when I shall drink it with you new in the
kingdom of my Father.
Fruit of the vine. . .These words, by the account of St. Luke 26:22. 18,
were not spoken of the sacramental cup, but of the wine that was drunk
with the paschal lamb.  Though the sacramental cup might also be called
the fruit of the vine, because it was consecrated from wine, and
retains the likeness, and all the accidents or qualities of wine.
26:30. And a hymn being said, they went out unto mount Olivet.
26:31. Then Jesus saith to them:  All you shall be scandalized in me
this night.  For it is written:  I will strike the shepherd:  and the
sheep of the flock shall be dispersed.
Scandalized in me, etc. . .Forasmuch as my being apprehended shall make
you all run away and forsake me.
26:32. But after I shall be risen again, I will go before you into
26:33. And Peter answering, said to him:  Although all shall be
scandalized in thee, I will never be scandalized.
26:34. Jesus said to him:  Amen I say to thee that in this night before
the cock crow, thou wilt deny me thrice.
26:35. Peter saith to him:  Yea, though I should die with thee, I will
not deny thee.  And in like manner said all the disciples.
26:36. Then Jesus came with them into a country place which is called
Gethsemani.  And he said to his disciples:  Sit you here, till I go
yonder and pray.
26:37. And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began
to grow sorrowful and to be sad.
26:38. Then he saith to them:  My soul is sorrowful even unto death.
Stay you here and watch with me.
26:39. And going a little further, he fell upon his face, praying and
saying:  My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me.
Nevertheless, not as I will but as thou wilt.
26:40. And he cometh to his disciples and findeth them asleep.  And he
saith to Peter:  What?  Could you not watch one hour with me?
26:41. Watch ye:  and pray that ye enter not into temptation.  The spirit
indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.
26:42. Again the second time, he went and prayed, saying:  My Father, if
this chalice may not pass away, but I must drink it, thy will be done.
26:43. And he cometh again and findeth them sleeping:  for their eyes
26:44. And leaving them, he went again:  and he prayed the third time,
saying the selfsame word.
26:45. Then he cometh to his disciples and said to them:  Sleep ye now
and take your rest.  Behold the hour is at hand:  and the Son of man
shall be betrayed into the hands of sinners.
26:46. Rise:  let us go.  Behold he is at hand that will betray me.
26:47. As he yet spoke, behold Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with
him a great multitude with swords and clubs, sent from the chief
priests and the ancients of the people.
26:48. And he that betrayed him gave them a sign, saying:  Whomsoever I
shall kiss, that is he.  Hold him fast.
26:49. And forthwith coming to Jesus, he said:  Hail, Rabbi.  And he
26:50. And Jesus said to him:  Friend, whereto art thou come?  Then they
came up and laid hands on Jesus and held him.
26:51. And behold one of them that were with Jesus, stretching forth
his hand, drew out his sword:  and striking the servant of the high
priest, cut off his ear.
26:52. Then Jesus saith to him:  Put up again thy sword into its place:
for all that take the sword shall perish with the sword.
26:53. Thinkest thou that I cannot ask my Father, and he will give me
presently more than twelve legions of angels?
26:54. How then shall the scriptures be fulfilled, that so it must be
26:55. In that same hour, Jesus said to the multitudes:  You are come
out, as it were to a robber, with swords and clubs to apprehend me.  I
sat daily with you, teaching in the temple:  and you laid not hands on
26:56. Now all this was done that the scriptures of the prophets might
be fulfilled.  Then the disciples, all leaving him, fled.
26:57. But they holding Jesus led him to Caiphas the high priest, where
the scribes and the ancients were assembled.
26:58. And Peter followed him afar off, even to the court of the high
priest, And going in, he sat with the servants, that he might see the
26:59. And the chief priests and the whole council sought false witness
against Jesus, that they might put him to death.
26:60. And they found not, whereas many false witnesses had come in.
And last of all there came two false witnesses:
26:61. And they said:  This man said, I am able to destroy the temple of
God and after three days to rebuild it.
26:62. And the high priest rising up, said to him:  Answerest thou
nothing to the things which these witness against thee?
26:63. But Jesus held his peace.  And the high priest said to him:  I
adjure thee by the living God, that thou tell us if thou be the Christ
the Son of God.
26:64. Jesus saith to him:  Thou hast said it.  Nevertheless I say to
you, hereafter you shall see the Son of man sitting on the right hand
of the power of God and coming in the clouds of heaven.
26:65. Then the high priest rent his garments, saying:  He hath
blasphemed:  What further need have we of witnesses?  Behold, now you
have heard the blasphemy.
26:66. What think you?  But they answering, said:  He is guilty of death.
26:67. Then did they spit in his face and buffeted him.  And others
struck his face with the palms of their hands,
26:68. Saying:  Prophesy unto us, O Christ.  Who is he that struck thee?
26:69. But Peter sat without in the court.  And there came to him a
servant maid, saying:  Thou also wast with Jesus the Galilean.
26:70. But he denied before them all, saying:  I know not what thou
26:71. And as he went out of the gate, another maid saw him; and she
saith to them that were there:  This man also was with Jesus of
26:72. And again he denied with an oath:  I know not the man.
26:73. And after a little while, they came that stood by and said to
Peter:  Surely thou also art one of them.  For even thy speech doth
discover thee.
26:74. Then he began to curse and to swear that he knew not the man.
And immediately the cock crew.
26:75. And Peter remembered the word of Jesus which he had said:  Before
the cock crow, thou wilt deny me thrice.  And going forth, he wept
Matthew Chapter 27
The continuation of the history of the passion of Christ.  His death and
27:1. And when morning was come, all the chief priests and ancients of
the people took counsel against Jesus, that they might put him to
27:2. And they brought him bound and delivered him to Pontius Pilate
the governor.
27:3. Then Judas, who betrayed him, seeing that he was condemned,
repenting himself, brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the
chief priests and ancients,
27:4. Saying:  I have sinned in betraying innocent blood.  But they said:
What is that to us?  Look thou to it.
27:5. And casting down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed
and went and hanged himself with an halter.
27:6. But the chief priests having taken the pieces of silver, said:  It
is not lawful to put them into the corbona, because it is the price of
Corbona. . .A place in the temple where the people put in their gifts or
27:7. And after they had consulted together, they bought with them the
potter's field, to be a burying place for strangers.
27:8. For this cause that field was called Haceldama, that is, the
field of blood, even to this day.
27:9. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremias the prophet,
saying:  And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him
that was prized, whom they prized of the children of Israel.
27:10. And they gave them unto the potter's field, as the Lord
appointed to me.
27:11. And Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him,
saying:  Art thou the king of the Jews?  Jesus saith to him:  Thou sayest
27:12. And when he was accused by the chief priests and ancients, he
answered nothing.
27:13. Then Pilate saith to him:  Dost not thou hear how great
testimonies they allege against thee?
27:14. And he answered him to never a word, so that the governor
wondered exceedingly.
27:15. Now upon the solemn day the governor was accustomed to release
to the people one prisoner, whom they would.
27:16. And he had then a notorious prisoner that was called Barabbas.
27:17. They therefore being gathered together, Pilate said:  Whom will
you that I release to You:  Barabbas, or Jesus that is called Christ?
27:18. For he knew that for envy they had delivered him.
27:19. And as he was sitting in the place of judgment, his wife sent to
him, saying:  Have thou nothing to do with that just man; for I have
suffered many things this day in a dream because of him.
27:20. But the chief priests and ancients persuaded the people that
they should ask Barabbas and make Jesus away.
27:21. And the governor answering, said to them:  Whether will you of
the two to be released unto you?  But they said:  Barabbas.
27:22. Pilate saith to them:  What shall I do then with Jesus that is
called Christ?  They say all:  Let him be crucified.
27:23. The governor said to them:  Why, what evil hath he done?  But they
cried out the more, saying:  Let him be crucified.
27:24. And Pilate seeing that he prevailed nothing, but that rather a
tumult was made, taking water washed his hands before the people,
saying:  I am innocent of the blood of this just man.  Look you to it.
27:25. And the whole people answering, said:  His blood be upon us and
upon our children.
27:26. Then he released to them Barabbas:  and having scourged Jesus,
delivered him unto them to be crucified.
27:27. Then the soldiers of the governor, taking Jesus into the hall,
gathered together unto him the whole band.
27:28. And stripping him, they put a scarlet cloak about him.
27:29. And platting a crown of thorns, they put it upon his head, and a
reed in his right hand.  And bowing the knee before him, they mocked
him, saying:  Hail, King of the Jews.
27:30. And spitting upon him, they took the reed and struck his head.
27:31. And after they had mocked him, they took off the cloak from him
and put on him his own garments and led him away to crucify him.
27:32. And going out, they found a man of Cyrene, named Simon:  him they
forced to take up his cross.
27:33. And they came to the place that is called Golgotha, which is the
place of Calvary.
27:34. And they gave him wine to drink mingled with gall.  And when he
had tasted, he would not drink.
27:35. And after they had crucified him, they divided his garments,
casting lots; that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the
prophet, saying:  They divided my garments among them; and upon my
vesture they cast lots.
27:36. And they sat and watched him.
27:37. And they put over his head his cause written:  THIS IS JESUS THE
KING OF THE JEWS.
27:38. Then were crucified with him two thieves:  one on the right hand
and one on the left.
27:39. And they that passed by blasphemed him, wagging their heads,
27:40. And saying:  Vah, thou that destroyest the temple of God and in
three days dost rebuild it:  save thy own self.  If thou be the Son of
God, come down from the cross.
27:41. In like manner also the chief priests, with the scribes and
ancients, mocking said:
27:42. He saved others:  himself he cannot save.  If he be the king of
Israel, let him now come down from the cross:  and we will believe him.
27:43. He trusted in God:  let him now deliver him if he will have him.
For he said:  I am the Son of God.
27:44. And the selfsame thing the thieves also that were crucified with
him reproached him with.
27:45. Now from the sixth hour, there was darkness over the whole
earth, until the ninth hour.
27:46. And about the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying:
Eli, Eli, lamma sabacthani?  That is, My God, My God, why hast thou
forsaken me?
27:47. And some that stood there and heard said:  This man calleth
27:48. And immediately one of them running took a sponge and filled it
with vinegar and put it on a reed and gave him to drink.
27:49. And the others said:  Let be.  Let us see whether Elias will come
to deliver him.
27:50. And Jesus again crying with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.
27:51. And behold the veil of the temple was rent in two from the top
even to the bottom:  and the earth quaked and the rocks were rent.
27:52. And the graves were opened:  and many bodies of the saints that
had slept arose,
27:53. And coming out of the tombs after his resurrection, came into
the holy city and appeared to many.
27:54. Now the centurion and they that were with him watching Jesus,
having seen the earthquake and the things that were done, were sore
afraid, saying:  Indeed this was the Son of God.
27:55. And there were there many women afar off, who had followed Jesus
from Galilee, ministering unto him:
27:56. Among whom was Mary Magdalen and Mary the mother of James and
Joseph and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.
27:57. And when it was evening, there came a certain rich man of
Arimathea, named Joseph, who also himself was a disciple of Jesus.
27:58. He went to Pilate and asked the body of Jesus.  Then Pilate
commanded that the body should be delivered.
27:59. And Joseph taking the body wrapped it up in a clean linen cloth:
27:60. And laid it in his own new monument, which he had hewed out in a
rock.  And he rolled a great stone to the door of the monument and went
27:61. And there was there Mary Magdalen and the other Mary, sitting
over against the sepulchre.
27:62. And the next day, which followed the day of preparation, the
chief priests and the Pharisees came together to Pilate,
The day of preparation. . .The eve of the sabbath; so called, because on
that day they prepared all things necessary; not being allowed so much
as to dress their meat on the sabbath day.
27:63. Saying:  Sir, we have remembered, that that seducer said, while
he was yet alive:  After three days I will rise again.
27:64. Command therefore the sepulchre to be guarded until the third
day:  lest perhaps his disciples come and steal him away and say to the
people:  He is risen from the dead.  And the last error shall be worse
than the first.
27:65. Pilate saith to them:  You have a guard.  Go, guard it as you
27:66. And they departing, made the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone
and setting guards.
Matthew Chapter 28
The resurrection of Christ.  His commission to his disciples.
28:1. And in the end of the sabbath, when it began to dawn towards the
first day of the week, came Mary Magdalen and the other Mary, to see
the sepulchre.
28:2. And behold there was a great earthquake.  For an angel of the Lord
descended from heaven and coming rolled back the stone and sat upon it.
28:3. And his countenance was as lightning and his raiment as snow.
28:4. And for fear of him, the guards were struck with terror and
became as dead men.
28:5. And the angel answering, said to the women:  Fear not you:  for I
know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.
28:6. He is not here.  For he is risen, as he said.  Come, and see the
place where the Lord was laid.
28:7. And going quickly, tell ye his disciples that he is risen.  And
behold he will go before you into Galilee.  There you shall see him.  Lo,
I have foretold it to you.
28:8. And they went out quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great
joy, running to tell his disciples.
28:9. And behold, Jesus met them, saying:  All hail.  But they came up
and took hold of his feet and adored him.
28:10. Then Jesus said to them:  Fear not.  Go, tell my brethren that
they go into Galilee.  There they shall see me.
28:11. Who when they were departed, behold, some of the guards came
into the city and told the chief priests all things that had been done.
28:12. And they being assembled together with the ancients, taking
counsel, gave a great sum of money to the soldiers,
28:13. Saying:  Say you, His disciples came by night and stole him away
when we were asleep.
28:14. And if the governor shall hear of this, we will persuade him and
28:15. So they taking the money, did as they were taught:  and this word
was spread abroad among the Jews even unto this day.
28:16. And the eleven disciples went into Galilee, unto the mountain
where Jesus had appointed them.
28:17. And seeing him they adored:  but some doubted.
28:18. And Jesus coming, spoke to them, saying:  All power is given to
me in heaven and in earth.
All power, etc. . .See here the warrant and commission of the apostles
and their successors, the bishops and pastors of Christ's church.  He
received from his Father all power in heaven and in earth:  and in
virtue of this power, he sends them (even as his Father sent him, St.
John 20. 21) to teach and disciple, not one, but all nations; and
instruct them in all truths:  and that he may assist them effectually in
the execution of this commission, he promises to be with them, not for
three or four hundred years only, but all days, even to the
consummation of the world.  How then could the Catholic Church ever go
astray; having always with her pastors, as is here promised, Christ
himself, who is the way, the truth, and the life.  St. John 14.
28:19. Going therefore, teach ye all nations:  baptizing them in the
name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.
28:20. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded
you.  And behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the
THE HOLY GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST ACCORDING TO ST. MARK
St. Mark, the disciple and interpreter of St. Peter (saith St. Jerome),
according to what he heard from Peter himself, wrote at Rome a brief
Gospel at the request of the Brethren, about ten years after our lord's
Ascension; which when Peter had heard, he approved of it and with his
authority published it to the church to be read.  Baronius and others
say that the original was written in Latin:  but the more general
opinion is that the Evangelist wrote it in Greek.
Mark Chapter 1
The preaching of John the Baptist.  Christ is baptized by him.  He calls
his disciples and works many miracles.
1:1. The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
1:2. As it is written in Isaias the prophet:  Behold I send my angel
before thy face, who shall prepare the way before thee.
1:3. A voice of one crying in the desert:  Prepare ye the way of the
Lord; make straight his paths.
1:4. John was in the desert, baptizing and preaching the baptism of
penance, unto remission of sins.
1:5. And there went out to him all the country of Judea and all they of
Jerusalem and were baptized by him in the river of Jordan, confessing
1:6. And John was clothed camel's hair, and a leathern girdle about his
loins:  and he ate locusts and wild honey.
1:7. And he preached, saying:  There cometh after me one mightier than
I, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and loose.
1:8. I have baptized you with water:  but he shall baptize you with the
1:9. And it came to pass, in those days, Jesus came from Nazareth of
Galilee and was baptized by John in Jordan.
1:10. And forthwith coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens open
and the Spirit as a dove descending and remaining on him.
1:11. And there came a voice from heaven:  Thou art my beloved Son; in
thee I am well pleased.
1:12. And immediately the Spirit drove him out into the desert.
1:13. And he was in the desert forty days and forty nights, and was
tempted by Satan.  And he was with beasts:  and the angels ministered to
1:14. And after that John was delivered up, Jesus came in Galilee,
preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God,
1:15. And saying:  The time is accomplished and the kingdom of God is at
hand.  Repent and believe the gospel:
1:16. And passing by the sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and Andrew his
brother, casting nets into the sea for they were fishermen.
1:17. And Jesus said to them:  Come after me; and I will make you to
become fishers of men.
1:18. And immediately leaving their nets, they followed him.
1:19. And going on from thence a little farther, he saw James the son
of Zebedee and John his brother, who also were mending their nets in
1:20. And forthwith he called them.  And leaving their father Zebedee in
the ship with his hired men, they followed him.
1:21. And they entered into Capharnaum:  and forthwith upon the sabbath
days going into the synagogue, he taught them.
1:22. And they were astonished at his doctrine.  For he was teaching
them as one having power, and not as the scribes.
1:23. And there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit;
and he cried out,
1:24. Saying:  What have we to do with thee, Jesus of Nazareth?  Art thou
come to destroy us?  I know who thou art, the Holy One of God.
1:25. And Jesus threatened him, saying:  Speak no more, and go out of
1:26. And the unclean spirit, tearing him and crying out with a loud
voice, went out of him.
1:27. And they were all amazed insomuch that they questioned among
themselves, saying:  What thing is this?  What is this new doctrine?  For
with power he commandeth even the unclean spirits:  and they obey him.
1:28. And the fame of him was spread forthwith into all the country of
1:29. And immediately going out of the synagogue they came into the
house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John.
1:30. And Simon's wife's mother lay in a fit of a fever:  and forthwith
they tell him of her.
1:31. And coming to her, he lifted her up, taking her by the hand; and
immediately the fever left her, and she ministered unto them.
1:32. And when it was evening, after sunset, they brought to him all
that were ill and that were possessed with devils.
1:33. And all the city was gathered together at the door.
1:34. And he healed many that were troubled with divers diseases.  And
he cast out many devils:  and he suffered them not to speak, because
they knew him.
1:35. And rising very early, going out, he went into a desert place:
and there he prayed.
1:36. And Simon and they that were with him followed after him.
1:37. And when they had found him, they said to him:  All seek for thee.
1:38. And he saith to them:  Let us go into the neighbouring towns and
cities, that I may preach there also; for to this purpose am I come.
1:39. And he was preaching in their synagogues and in all Galilee and
casting out devils.
1:40. And there came a leper to him, beseeching him and kneeling down,
said to him:  If thou wilt thou canst make me clean.
1:41. And Jesus, having compassion on him, stretched forth his hand and
touching him saith to him:  I will.  Be thou made clean.
1:42. And when he had spoken, immediately the leprosy departed from
him:  and he was made clean.
1:43. And he strictly charged him and forthwith sent him away.
1:44. And he saith to him:  See thou tell no one; but go, shew thyself
to the high priest and offer for thy cleansing the things that Moses
commanded, for a testimony to them.
1:45. But he being gone out, began to publish and to blaze abroad the
word:  so that he could not openly go into the city.  but was without in
desert places.  And they flocked to him from all sides.
Mark Chapter 2
Christ heals the sick of the palsy.  He calls Matthew and excuses his
2:1. And again he entered into Capharnaum after some days.
2:2. And it was heard that he was in the house.  And many came together,
so that there was no room:  no, not even at the door.  And he spoke to
them the word.
2:3. And they came to him, bringing one sick of the palsy, who was
carried by four.
2:4. And when they could not offer him unto him for the multitude, they
uncovered the roof where he was:  and opening it, they let down the bed
wherein the man sick of the palsy lay.
2:5. And when Jesus had seen their faith, he saith to the sick of the
palsy:  Son, thy sins are forgiven thee.
2:6. And there were some of the scribes sitting there and thinking in
their hearts:
2:7. Why doth this man speak thus?  He blasphemeth.  Who can forgive
sins, but God only?
2:8. Which Jesus presently knowing in his spirit that they so thought
within themselves, saith to them:  Why think you these things in your
2:9. Which is easier, to say to the sick of the palsy:  Thy sins are
forgiven thee; or to say:  Arise, take up thy bed and walk?
2:10. But that you may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to
forgive sins (he saith to the sick of the palsy):
2:11. I say to thee:  Arise.  Take up thy bed and go into thy house.
2:12. And immediately he arose and, taking up his bed, went his way in
the sight of all:  so that all wondered and glorified God, saying:  We
never saw the like.
2:13. And he went forth again to the sea side:  and all the multitude
came to him.  And he taught them.
2:14. And when he was passing by, he saw Levi, the son of Alpheus,
sitting at the receipt of custom; and he saith to him:  Follow me.  And
rising up, he followed him.
2:15. And it came to pass as he sat at meat in his house, many
Publicans and sinners sat down together with Jesus and his disciples.
For they, with Jesus who also followed him.  For they were many, who
also followed him.
2:16. And the scribes and the Pharisees, seeing that he ate with
publicans and sinners, said to his disciples:  Why doth your master eat
and drink with publicans and sinners?
2:17. Jesus hearing this, saith to them:  They that are well have no
need of a physician, but they that are sick.  For I came not to call the
just, but sinners.
2:18. And the disciples of John and the Pharisees used to fast.  And
they come and say to him:  Why do the disciples of John and of the
Pharisees fast; but thy disciples do not fast?
2:19. And Jesus saith to them:  Can the children of the marriage fast,
as long as the bridegroom is with them?  As long as they have the
bridegroom with them, they cannot fast.
2:20. But the days will come when the bridegroom shall be taken away
from them:  and then they shall fast in those days.
2:21. No man seweth a piece of raw cloth to an old garment:  otherwise
the new piecing taketh away from the old, and there is made a greater
2:22. And no man putteth new wine into old bottles:  otherwise the wine
will burst the bottles, and both the wine will be spilled and the
bottles will be lost.  But new wine must be put into new bottles.
2:23. And it came to pass again, as the Lord walked through the corn
fields on the sabbath, that his disciples began to go forward and to
pluck the ears of corn.
2:24. And the Pharisees said to him:  Behold, why do they on the sabbath
day that which is not lawful?
2:25. And he said to them:  Have you never read what David did when he
had need and was hungry, himself and they that were with him?
2:26. How he went into the house of God, under Abiathar the high
priest, and did eat the loaves of proposition, which was not lawful to
eat but for the priests, and gave to them who were with him?
2:27. And he said to them:  The sabbath was made for man, and not man
for the sabbath.
2:28. Therefore the Son of man is Lord of the sabbath also.
Mark Chapter 3
Christ heals the withered hand.  He chooses the twelve.  He confutes the
blasphemy of the Pharisees.
3:1. And he entered again into the synagogue:  and there was a man there
who had a withered hand.
3:2. And they watched him whether he would heal on the sabbath days,
that they might accuse him.
3:3. And he said to the man who had the withered hand:  Stand up in the
3:4. And he saith to them:  Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath days,
or to do evil?  To save life, or to destroy?  But they held their peace.
3:5. And looking round about on them with anger, being grieved for the
blindness of their hearts, he saith to the man:  Stretch forth thy hand.
And he stretched it forth:  and his hand was restored unto him.
3:6. And the Pharisees going out, immediately made a consultation with
the Herodians against him, how they might destroy him.
3:7. But Jesus retired with his disciples to the sea; and a great
multitude followed him from Galilee and Judea,
3:8. And from Jerusalem, and from Idumea and from beyond the Jordan.
And they about Tyre and Sidon, a great multitude, hearing the things
which he did, came to him.
3:9. And he spoke to his disciples that a small ship should wait on
him, because of the multitude, lest they should throng him.
3:10. For he healed many, so that they pressed upon him for to touch
him, as many as had evils.
3:11. And the unclean spirits, when they saw him, fell down before him:
and they cried, saying:
3:12. Thou art the Son of God.  And he strictly charged them that they
should not make him known.
3:13. And going up into a mountain, he called unto him whom he would
himself:  and they came to him.
3:14. And he made that twelve should be with him, and that he might
send them to preach.
3:15. And he gave them power to heal sicknesses, and to cast out
3:16. And to Simon he gave the name Peter:
3:17. And James the son of Zebedee, and John the brother of James; and
he named them Boanerges, which is, The sons of thunder.
3:18. And Andrew and Philip, and Bartholomew and Matthew, and Thomas
and James of Alpheus, and Thaddeus and Simon the Cananean:
3:19. And Judas Iscariot, who also betrayed him.
3:20. And they come to a house, and the multitude cometh together
again, so that they could not so much as eat bread.
3:21. And when his friends had heard of it, they went out to lay hold
on him.  For they said:  He is become mad.
3:22. And the scribes who were come down from Jerusalem, said:  He hath
Beelzebub, and by the prince of devils he casteth out devils.
3:23. And after he had called them together, he said to them in
parables:  How can Satan cast out Satan?
3:24. And if a kingdom be divided against itself, that kingdom cannot
3:25. And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot
3:26. And if Satan be risen up against himself, he is divided, and
cannot stand, but hath an end.
3:27. No man can enter into the house of a strong man and rob him of
his goods, unless he first bind the strong man, and then shall he
plunder his house.
3:28. Amen I say to you that all sins shall be forgiven unto the sons
of men, and the blasphemies wherewith they shall blaspheme:
3:29. But he that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost, shall never
have forgiveness, but shall be guilty of an everlasting sin.
3:30. Because they said:  He hath an unclean spirit.
3:31. And his mother and his brethren came; and standing without, sent
unto him, calling him.
3:32. And the multitude sat about him; and they say to him:  Behold thy
mother and thy brethren without seek for thee.
3:33. And answering them, he said:  Who is my mother and my brethren?
3:34. And looking round about on them who sat about him, he saith:
Behold my mother and my brethren.
3:35. For whosoever shall do the will of God, he is my brother, and my
sister, and mother.
Mark Chapter 4
The parable of the sower.  Christ stills the tempest at sea.
4:1. And again he began to teach by the sea side; and a great multitude
was gathered together unto him, so that he went up into a ship and sat
in the sea:  and all the multitude was upon the land by the sea side.
4:2. And he taught them many things in parables, and said unto them in
his doctrine:
4:3. Hear ye:  Behold, the sower went out to sow.
4:4. And whilst he sowed, some fell by the way side, and the birds of
the air came and ate it up.
4:5. And other some fell upon stony ground, where it had not much
earth; and it shot up immediately, because it had no depth of earth.
4:6. And when the sun was risen, it was scorched; and because it had no
root, it withered away.
4:7. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns grew up, and choked it,
and it yielded no fruit.
4:8. And some fell upon good ground; and brought forth fruit that grew
up, and increased and yielded, one thirty, another sixty, and another a
4:9. And he said:  He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
4:10. And when he was alone, the twelve that were with him asked him
the parable.
4:11. And he said to them:  To you it is given to know the mystery of
the kingdom of God:  but to them that are without, all things are done
in parables:
4:12. That seeing they may see, and not perceive; and hearing they may
hear, and not understand; lest at any time they should be converted,
and their sins should be forgiven them.
That seeing they may see, etc. . .in punishment of their wilfully
shutting their eyes, (St. Matt. 13. 15,) God justly withdrew those
lights and graces, which otherwise he would have given them, for their
effectual conversion.
4:13. And he saith to them:  Are you ignorant of this, parable?  and how
shall you know all parables?
4:14. He that soweth, soweth the word.
4:15. And these are they by the way side, where the word is sown, and
as soon as they have heard, immediately Satan cometh and taketh away
the word that was sown in their hearts.
4:16. And these likewise are they that are sown on the stony ground:
who when they have heard the word, immediately receive it with joy.
4:17. And they have no root in themselves, but are only for a time:  and
then when tribulation and persecution ariseth for the word they are
presently scandalized.
4:18. And others there are who are sown among thorns:  these are they
that hear the word,
4:19. And the cares of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and
the lusts after other things entering in choke the word, and it is made
4:20. And these are they who are sown upon the good ground, who hear
the word, and receive it, and yield fruit, the one thirty, another
sixty, and another a hundred.
4:21. And he said to them:  Doth a candle come in to be put under a
bushel, or under a bed?  and not to be set on a candlestick?
4:22. For there is nothing hid, which shall not be made manifest:
neither was it made secret, but that it may come abroad.
4:23. If any man have ears to hear, let him hear.
4:24. And he said to them:  Take heed what you hear.  In what measure you
shall mete, it shall be measured to you again, and more shall be given
4:25. For he that hath, to him shall be given:  and he that hath not,
that also which he hath shall be taken away from him.
4:26. And he said:  So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast
seed into the earth,
4:27. And should sleep, and rise, night and day, and the seed should
spring, and grow up whilst he knoweth not.
4:28. For the earth of itself bringeth forth fruit, first the blade,
then the ear, afterwards the full corn in the ear.
4:29. And when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in
the sickle, because the harvest is come.
4:30. And he said:  To what shall we liken the kingdom of God?  or to
what parable shall we compare it?
4:31. It is as a grain of mustard seed:  which when it is sown in the
earth, is less than all the seeds that are in the earth:
4:32. And when it is sown, it groweth up, and becometh greater than all
herbs, and shooteth out great branches, so that the birds of the air
may dwell under the shadow thereof.
4:33. And with many such parables, he spoke to them the word, according
as they were able to hear.
4:34. And without parable he did not speak unto them; but apart, he
explained all things to his disciples.
4:35. And he saith to them that day, when evening was come:  Let us pass
over to the other side.
4:36. And sending away the multitude, they take him even as he was in
the ship:  and there were other ships with him.
4:37. And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into
the ship, so that the ship was filled.
4:38. And he was in the hinder part of the ship, sleeping upon a
pillow; and they awake him, and say to him:  Master, doth, it not
concern thee that we perish?
4:39. And rising up, he rebuked the wind, and said to the sea:  Peace,
be still.  And the wind ceased:  and there was made a great calm.
4:40. And he said to them:  Why are you fearful?  have you not faith yet?
And they feared exceedingly:  and they said one to another:  Who is this
(thinkest thou) that both wind and sea obey him?
Mark Chapter 5
Christ casts out a legion of devils:  he heals the issue of blood, and
raises the daughter of Jairus to life.
5:1. And they came over the strait of the sea, into the country of the
5:2. And as he went out of the ship, immediately there met him out of
the monuments a man with an unclean spirit,
5:3. Who had his dwelling in the tombs, and no man now could bind him,
not even with chains.
5:4. For having been often bound with fetters and chains, he had burst
the chains, and broken the fetters in pieces, and no one could tame
5:5. And he was always day and night in the monuments and in the
mountains, crying and cutting himself with stones.
5:6. And seeing Jesus afar off, he ran and adored him.
5:7. And crying with a loud voice, he said:  What have I to do with
thee, Jesus the Son of the most high God?  I adjure thee by God that
thou torment me not.
5:8. For he said unto him:  Go out of the man, thou unclean spirit.
5:9. And he asked him:  What is thy name?  And he saith to him:  My name
is Legion, for we are many.
5:10. And he besought him much, that he would not drive him away out of
the country.
5:11. And there was there near the mountain a great herd of swine,
5:12. And the spirits besought him, saying:  Send us into the swine,
that we may enter into them.
5:13. And Jesus immediately gave them leave.  And the unclean spirits
going out, entered into the swine:  and the herd with great violence was
carried headlong into the sea, being about two thousand, were stifled
5:14. And they that fed them fled, and told it in the city and in the
fields.  And they went out to see what was done:
5:15. And they came to Jesus, and they see him that was troubled with
the devil, sitting, clothed, and well in his wits, and they were
5:16. And they that had seen it, told them, in what manner he had been
dealt with who had the devil; and concerning the swine.
5:17. And they began to pray him that he would depart from their
5:18. And when he went up into the ship, he that had been troubled with
the devil, began to beseech him that he might be with him.
5:19. And he admitted him not, but saith him:  Go into thy house to thy
friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee,
and hath had mercy thee.
5:20. And he went his way, and began to publish in Decapolis how great
things Jesus had done for him:  and all men wondered.
5:21. And when Jesus had passed again in the ship over the strait, a
great multitude assembled together unto him, and he was nigh unto the
5:22. And there cometh one of the rulers of the synagogue named Jairus:
and seeing him, falleth down at his feet.
5:23. And he besought him much, saying:  My daughter is at the point of
death, come, lay thy hand upon her, that she may be safe, and may live.
5:24. And he went with him, and a great multitude followed him, and
they thronged him.
5:25. And a woman who was under an issue of blood twelve years,
5:26. And had suffered many things from many physicians; and had spent
all that she had, and was nothing the better, but rather worse,
5:27. When she had heard of Jesus, came in the crowd behind him, and
touched his garment.
5:28. For she said:  If I shall touch but his garment, I shall be whole.
5:29. And forthwith the fountain of her blood was dried up, and she
felt in her body that she was healed of the evil.
5:30. And immediately Jesus knowing in himself the virtue that had
proceeded from him, turning to the multitude, said:  Who hath touched my
5:31. And his disciples said to him:  Thou seest the multitude thronging
thee, and sayest thou who hath touched me?
5:32. And he looked about to see her who had done this.
5:33. But the woman fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in
her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth.
5:34. And he said to her:  Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole:  go
in peace, and be thou whole of thy disease.
5:35. While he was yet speaking, some come from the ruler of the
synagogue's house, saying:  Thy daughter is dead:  why dost thou trouble
the master any further?
5:36. But Jesus having heard the word that was spoken, saith to the
ruler of the synagogue:  Fear not, only believe.
5:37. And he admitted not any man to follow him, but Peter, and James,
and John the brother of James.
5:38. And they cone to the house of the ruler of the synagogue; and he
seeth a tumult, and people weeping and wailing much.
5:39. And going in, he saith to them Why make you this ado, and weep?
the damsel is not dead, but sleepeth.
5:40. And they laughed him to scorn.  But he having put them all out,
taketh the father and the mother of the damsel, and them that were with
him, and entereth in where the damsel was lying.
5:41. And taking the damsel by the hand, he saith to her:  Talitha cumi,
which is, being interpreted:  Damsel (I say to thee) arise.
5:42. And immediately the damsel rose up, and walked:  and she was
twelve years old:  and they were astonished with a great astonishment.
5:43. And he charged them strictly that no man should know it:  and
commanded that something should be given her to eat.
Mark Chapter 6
Christ teaches at Nazareth:  he sends forth the twelve apostles:  he
feeds five thousand with five loaves; and walks upon the sea.
6:1. And going out from thence, he went into his own country; and his
disciples followed him.
6:2. And when the Sabbath was come, he began to teach in the synagogue:
and many hearing him were in admiration at his doctrine, saying:  How
came this man by all these things?  and what wisdom is this that is
given to him, and such mighty works as are wrought by his hands?
6:3. Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary, the brother of James,
and Joseph, and Jude, and Simon?  are not also his sisters here with us?
And they were scandalized in regard of him.
6:4. And Jesus said to them:  A prophet is not without honour, but in
his own country, and in his own house, and among his own kindred.
6:5. And he could not do any miracles there, only that he cured a few
that were sick, laying his hands upon them.
He could not. . .Not for want of power, but because he would not work
miracles in favour of obstinate and incredulous people, who were
unworthy of such favours.
6:6. And he wondered because of their unbelief, and he went through the
villages round about teaching.
6:7. And he called the twelve; and began to send them two and two, and
gave them power over unclean spirits.
6:8. And he commanded them that they should take nothing for the way,
but a staff only; no scrip, no bread, nor money in their purse,
6:9. But to be shod with sandals, and that they should not put on two
6:10. And he said to them:  Wheresoever you shall enter into an house,
there abide till you depart from that place.
6:11. And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear you; going forth
from thence, shake off the dust from your feet for a testimony to them.
6:12. And going forth they preached men should do penance:
6:13. And they cast out many devils, and anointed with oil many that
were sick, and healed them.
6:14. And king Herod heard, (for his name was made manifest,) and he
said:  John the Baptist is risen again from dead, and therefore mighty
works shew forth themselves in him.
6:15. And others said:  It is Elias.  But others said:  It is a prophet,
as one of the prophets.
6:16. Which Herod hearing, said:  John whom I beheaded, he is risen
again from the dead.
6:17. For Herod himself had sent and apprehended John, and bound him
prison for the sake of Herodias the wife of Philip his brother, because
he had married her.
6:18. For John said to Herod:  It is not lawful for thee to have thy
brother's wife.
6:19. Now Herodias laid snares for him:  and was desirous to put him to
death and could not.
6:20. For Herod feared John, knowing him to be a just and holy man:  and
kept him, and when he heard him, did many things:  and he heard him
And kept him. . .That is, from the designs of Herodias; and for fear of
the people, would not put him to death, though she sought it; and
through her daughter she effected her wish.
6:21. And when a convenient day was come, Herod made a supper for his
birthday, for the princes, and tribunes, and chief men of Galilee.
6:22. And when the daughter of the same Herodias had come in, and had
danced, and pleased Herod, and them that were at table with him, the
king said to the damsel:  Ask of me what thou wilt, and I will give it
6:23. And he swore to her:  Whatsoever thou shalt ask I will give thee,
though it be the half of my kingdom.
6:24. Who when she was gone out, said to her mother, What shall I ask?
But her mother said:  The head of John the Baptist.
6:25. And when she was come in immediately with haste to the king, she
asked, saying:  I will that forthwith thou give me in a dish, the head
of John the Baptist.
6:26. And the king was struck sad.  Yet because of his oath, and because
of them that were with him at table, he would not displease her:
6:27. But sending an executioner, he commanded that his head should be
brought in a dish.
6:28. And he beheaded him in the prison, and brought his head in a
dish:  and gave to the damsel, and the damsel gave it her mother.
6:29. Which his disciples hearing came, and took his body, and laid it
6:30. And the apostles coming together unto Jesus, related to him all
things that they had done and taught.
6:31. And he said to them:  Come apart into a desert place, and rest a
little.  For there were many coming and going:  and they had not so much
as time to eat.
6:32. And going up into a ship, they went into a desert place apart.
6:33. And they saw them going away, and many knew:  and they ran
flocking thither foot from all the cities, and were there before them.
6:34. And Jesus going out saw a great multitude:  and he had compassion
on them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd, and he began
to teach them many things.
6:35. And when the day was now far spent, his disciples came to him,
saying:  This is a desert place, and the hour is now past:
6:36. Send them away, that going into the next villages and towns, they
may buy themselves meat to eat.
6:37. And he answering said to them:  Give you them to eat.  And they
said to him:  Let us go and buy bread for two hundred pence, and we will
give them to eat.
6:38. And he saith to them:  How many loaves have you?  go and see.  And
when they knew, they say:  Five, and two fishes.
6:39. And he commanded them that they should make them all sit down by
companies upon the green grass.
6:40. And they sat down in ranks, by hundreds and by fifties.
6:41. And when he had taken the five loaves, and the two fishes:
looking up to heaven, he blessed, and broke the loaves, and gave to his
disciples to set before them:  and the two fishes he divided among them
6:42. And they all did eat, and had their fill.
6:43. And they took up the leavings, twelve full baskets of fragments,
and of the fishes.
6:44. And they that did eat, were five thousand men.
6:45. And immediately he obliged his disciples to go up into the ship,
that they might go before him over the water to Bethsaida, whilst he
dismissed the people.
6:46. And when he had dismissed them, he went up to the mountain to
6:47. And when it was late, the ship was in the midst of the sea, and
himself alone on the land.
6:48. And seeing them labouring in rowing, (for the wind was against
them,) and about the fourth watch of the night, he cometh to them
walking upon the sea, and he would have passed by them.
6:49. But they seeing him walking upon the sea, thought it was an
apparition, and they cried out.
6:50. For they all saw him, and were troubled bled.  And immediately he
spoke with them, and said to them:  Have a good heart, it is I, fear ye
6:51. And he went up to them into the ship, and the wind ceased:  and
they were far more astonished within themselves:
6:52. For they understood not concerning the loaves; for their heart
was blinded.
6:53. And when they had passed over, they came into the land of
Genezareth, and set to the shore.
6:54. And when they were gone out of the ship, immediately they knew
6:55. And running through that whole country, they began to carry about
in beds those that were sick, where they heard he was.
6:56. And whithersoever he entered, into towns or into villages or
cities, they laid the sick in the streets, and besought him that they
might touch but the hem of his garment:  and as many as touched him were
Mark Chapter 7
Christ rebukes the Pharisees.  He heals the daughter of the woman of
Chanaan; and the man that was deaf and dumb.
7:1. And there assembled together unto him the Pharisees and some of
the scribes, coming from Jerusalem.
7:2. And when they had seen some of his disciples eat bread with
common, that is, with unwashed hands, they found fault.
7:3. For the Pharisees and all the Jews eat not without often washing
their hands, holding the tradition of the ancients.
7:4. And when they come from the market, unless they be washed, they
eat not:  and many other things there are that have been delivered to
them to observe, the washings of cups and of pots and of brazen vessels
and of beds.
7:5. And the Pharisees and scribes asked him:  Why do not thy disciples
walk according to the tradition of the ancients, but they eat bread
with common hands?
7:6. But he answering, said to them:  Well did Isaias prophesy of you
hypocrites, as it is written:  This people honoureth me with their lips,
but their heart is far from me.
7:7. And in vain do they worship me, teaching doctrines and precepts of
Doctrines and precepts of men. . .See the annotations, Matt. 15. 9, 11.
7:8. For leaving the commandment of God, you hold the tradition of men,
the washing of pots and of cups:  and many other things you do like to
7:9. And he said to them:  Well do you make void the commandment of God,
that you may keep your own tradition.
7:10. For Moses said:  Honour thy father and thy mother.  And He that
shall curse father or mother, dying let him die.
7:11. But you say:  If a man shall say to his father or mother, Corban
(which is a gift) whatsoever is from me shall profit thee.
7:12. And further you suffer him not to do any thing for his father or
7:13. Making void the word of God by your own tradition, which you have
given forth.  And many other such like things you do.
7:14. And calling again the multitude unto him, he said to them:  Hear
ye me all and understand.
7:15. There is nothing from without a man that entering into him can
defile him.  But the things which come from a man, those are they that
defile a man.
7:16. If any man have ears to hear, let him hear.
7:17. And when he was come into the house from the multitude, his
disciples asked him the parable.
7:18. And he saith to them:  So are you also without knowledge?
Understand you not that every thing from without entering into a man
cannot defile him:
7:19. Because it entereth not into his heart but goeth into his belly
and goeth out into the privy, purging all meats?
7:20. But he said that the things which come out from a man, they
defile a man.
7:21. For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts,
adulteries, fornications, murders,
7:22. Thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil
eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness.
7:23. All these evil things come from within and defile a man.
7:24. And rising from thence he went into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon:
and entering into a house, he would that no man should know it.  And he
could not be hid.
7:25. For a woman as soon as she heard of him, whose daughter had an
unclean spirit, came in and fell down at his feet.
7:26. For the woman was a Gentile, a Syrophenician born.  And she
besought him that he would cast forth the devil out of her daughter.
7:27. Who said to her:  suffer first the children to be filled:  for it
is not good to take the bread of the children and cast it to the dogs.
7:28. But she answered and said to him:  Yea, Lord; for the whelps also
eat under the table of the crumbs of the children.
7:29. And he said to her:  For this saying, go thy way.  The devil is
gone out of thy daughter.
7:30. And when she was come into her house, she found the girl lying
upon the bed and that the devil was gone out.
7:31. And again going out of the coasts of Tyre, he came by Sidon to
the sea of Galilee, through the midst the of the coasts of Decapolis.
7:32. And they bring to him one deaf and dumb:  and they besought him
that he would lay his hand upon him.
7:33. And taking him from the multitude apart, he put his fingers into
his ears:  and spitting, he touched his tongue.
7:34. And looking up to heaven, he groaned and said to him:  Ephpheta,
which is, Be thou opened.
7:35. And immediately his ears were opened and the string of his tongue
was loosed and he spoke right.
7:36. And he charged them that they should tell no man.  But the more he
charged them, so much the more a great deal did they publish it.
7:37. And so much the more did they wonder, saying:  He hath done all
things well.  He hath made both the deaf to hear and the dumb to speak.
Mark Chapter 8
Christ feeds four thousand.  He gives sight to a blind man.  He foretells
his passion.
8:1. In those days again, when there was great multitude and they had
nothing to eat; calling his disciples together, he saith to them:
8:2. I have compassion on the multitude, for behold they have now been
with me three days and have nothing to eat.
8:3. And if I shall send them away fasting to their home, they will
faint in the way:  for some of them came from afar off.
8:4. And his disciples answered him:  From whence can any one fill them
here with bread in the wilderness?
8:5. And he asked them:  How many loaves have ye?  Who said:  Seven.
8:6. And he commanded the people to sit down on the ground.  And taking
the seven loaves, giving thanks, he broke and gave to his disciples for
to set before them.  And they set them before the people.
8:7. And they had a few little fishes:  and he blessed them and
commanded them to be set before them.
8:8. And they did eat and were filled:  and they took up that which was
left of the fragments, seven baskets.
8:9. And they that had eaten were about four thousand.  And he sent them
8:10. And immediately going up into a ship with his disciples, he came
into the parts of Dalmanutha.
8:11. And the Pharisees came forth and began to question with him,
asking him a sign from heaven, tempting him.
8:12. And sighing deeply in spirit, he saith:  Why doth this generation
seek a sign?  Amen, I say to you, a sign shall not be given to this
8:13. And leaving them, he went up again into the ship and passed to
the other side of the water.
8:14. And they forgot to take bread:  and they had but one loaf with
them in the ship.
8:15. And he charged them saying:  Take heed and beware of the leaven of
the Pharisees and of the leaven of Herod.
8:16. And they reasoned among themselves, saying:  Because we have no
8:17. Which Jesus knowing, saith to them:  Why do you reason, because
you have no bread?  Do you not yet know nor understand?  Have you still
your heart blinded?
8:18. Having eyes, see you not?  And having ears, hear you not?  Neither
do you remember?
8:19. When I broke the five loves among five thousand, how many baskets
full of fragments took you up?  They say to him:  Twelve.
8:20. When also the seven loaves among four thousand, how many baskets
of fragments took you up?  And they say to him:  Seven.
8:21. And he said to them:  How do you not yet understand?
8:22. And they came to Bethsaida:  and they bring to him a blind man.
And they besought him that he would touch him.
8:23. And taking the blind man by the hand, he led him out of the town.
And spitting upon his eyes, laying his hands on him, he asked him if he
saw any thing.
8:24. And looking up, he said:  I see men, as it were trees, walking.
8:25. After that again he laid his hands upon his eyes:  and he began to
see and was restored, so that he saw all things clearly.
8:26. And he sent him into his house, saying:  Go into thy house, and if
thou enter into the town, tell nobody.
8:27. And Jesus went out, and his disciples into the towns of Caesarea
Philippi.  And in the way, he asked his disciples, saying to them:  Whom
do men say that I am?
8:28. Who answered him, saying:  John the Baptist; but some Elias, and
others as one of the prophets.
8:29. Then he saith to them:  But whom do you say that I am?  Peter
answering said to him:  Thou art the Christ.
8:30. And he strictly charged them that they should not tell any man of
8:31. And he began to teach them that the Son of man must suffer many
things and be rejected by the ancients and by the high priests and the
scribes:  and be killed and after three days rise again.
8:32. And he spoke the word openly.  And Peter taking him began to
8:33. Who turning about and seeing his disciples, threatened Peter,
saying:  Go behind me, Satan, because thou savourest not the things that
are of God but that are of men.
8:34. And calling the multitude together with his disciples, he said to
them:  If any man will follow me, let him deny himself and take up his
cross and follow me.
8:35. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it:  and whosoever
shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel shall save it.
8:36. For what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world and
suffer the loss of his soul?
8:37. Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul:
8:38. For he that shall be ashamed of me and of my words, in this
adulterous and sinful generation:  the Son of man also will be ashamed
of him, when he shall come in the glory of his Father with the holy
8:39. And he said to them:  Amen f say to you that there are some of
them that stand here who shall not taste death till they see the
kingdom of God coming in power.
Mark Chapter 9
Christ is transfigured.  He casts out the dumb spirit.  He teaches
humility and to avoid scandal.
9:1. And after six days, Jesus taketh with him Peter and James and
John, and leadeth them up into an high mountain apart by themselves,
and was transfigured before them.
9:2. And his garments became shining and exceeding white as snow, so as
no fuller upon earth can make white.
9:3. And there appeared to them Elias with Moses:  and they were talking
9:4. And Peter answering, said to Jesus:  Rabbi, it is good for us to be
here.  And let us make three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for
Moses, and one for Elias.
9:5. For he knew not what he said:  for they were struck with fear.
9:6. And there was a cloud overshadowing them.  And a voice came out of
the cloud, saying:  This is my most beloved Son.  Hear ye him.
9:7. And immediately looking about, they saw no man any more, but Jesus
only with them.
9:8. And as they came down from the mountain, he charged them not to
tell any man what things they had seen, till the Son of man shall be
risen again from the dead.
9:9. And they kept the word to themselves; questioning together what
that should mean, when he shall be risen from the dead.
9:10. And they asked him, saying:  Why then do the Pharisees and scribes
say that Elias must come first?
9:11. Who answering, said to then:  Elias, when he shall come first,
shall restore all things; and as it is written of the Son of man that
he must suffer many things and be despised.
9:12. But I say to you that Elias also is come (and they have done to
him whatsoever they would), as it is written of him.
9:13. And coming to his disciples he saw a great multitude about them
and the scribes disputing with them.
9:14. And presently all the people, seeing Jesus, were astonished and
struck with fear:  and running to him, they saluted him.
9:15. And he asked them:  What do you question about among you?
9:16. And one of the multitude, answering, said:  Master, I have brought
my son to thee, having a dumb spirit.
9:17. Who, wheresoever he taketh him, dasheth him:  and he foameth and
gnasheth with the teeth and pineth away.  And I spoke to thy disciples
to cast him out:  and they could not.
9:18. Who answering them, said:  O incredulous generation, how long
shall I be with you?  How long shall I suffer you?  Bring him unto me.
9:19. And they brought him.  And when he had seen him, immediately the
spirit troubled him and being thrown down upon the ground, he rolled
about foaming.
9:20. And he asked his father:  How long time is it since this hath
happened unto him?  But he sad:  From his infancy.
9:21. And oftentimes hath he cast him into the fire and into the waters
to destroy him.  But if thou canst do any thing, help us, having
compassion on us.
9:22. And Jesus saith to him:  If thou canst believe, all things are
possible to him that believeth.
9:23. And immediately the father of the boy crying out, with tears
said:  I do believe, Lord.  Help my unbelief.
9:24. And when Jesus saw the multitude running together, he threatened
the unclean spirit, saying to him:  Deaf and dumb spirit, I command
thee, go out of him and enter not any more into him.
9:25. And crying out and greatly tearing him, he went our of him.  And
he became as dead, so that many said:  He is dead.
9:26. But Jesus taking him by the hand, lifted him up.  And he arose.
9:27. And when he was come into the house, his disciples secretly asked
him:  Why could not we cast him out?
9:28. And he said to them:  This kind can go out by nothing, but by
prayer and fasting.
9:29. And departing from thence, they passed through Galilee:  and he
would not that any man should know it.
9:30. And he taught his disciples and said to them:  The Son of man
shall be betrayed into the hands of men, and they shall kill him; and
after that he is killed, he shall rise again the third day.
9:31. But they understood not the word:  and they were afraid to ask
9:32. And they came to Capharnaum.  And when they were in the house, he
asked them:  What did you treat of in the way?
9:33. But they held their peace, for in the way they had disputed among
themselves, which of them should be the greatest.
9:34. And sitting down, he called the twelve and saith to them:  If any
man desire to be first, he shall be the last of all and be minister of
9:35. And taking a child, he set him in the midst of them.  Whom when he
had embraced, he saith to them:
9:36. Whosoever shall receive one such child as this in my name
receiveth me.  And whosoever shall receive me receiveth not me but him
that sent me.
9:37. John answered him, saying:  Master, we saw one casting out devils
in thy name, who followeth not us:  and we forbade him.
9:38. But Jesus said:  Do not forbid him.  For there is no man that doth
a miracle in my name and can soon speak ill of me.
9:39. For he that is not against you is for you.
9:40. For whosoever shall give you to drink a cup of water in my name,
because you belong to Christ:  amen I say to you, he shall not lose his
9:41. And whosoever shall scandalize one of these little ones that
believe in me:  it were better for him that a millstone were hanged
about his neck and he were cast into the sea.
9:42. And if thy hand scandalize thee, cut it off:  it is better for
thee to enter into life, maimed, than having two hands to go into hell,
into unquenchable fire:
9:43. Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not extinguished.
9:44. And if thy foot scandalize thee, cut it off:  it is better for
thee to enter lame into life everlasting than having two feet to be
cast into the hell of unquenchable fire:
9:45. Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not extinguished.
9:46. And if thy eye scandalize thee, pluck it out:  it is better for
thee with one eye to enter into the kingdom of God than having two eyes
to be cast into the hell of fire:
9:47. Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not extinguished.
9:48. For every one shall be salted with fire:  and every victim shall
be salted with salt.
9:49. Salt is good.  But if the salt become unsavoury, wherewith will
you season it?  Have salt in you:  and have peace among you.
Mark Chapter 10
Marriage is not to be dissolved.  The danger of riches.  The ambition of
the sons of Zebedee.  A blind man is restored to his sight.
10:1. And rising up from thence, he cometh into the coast of Judea
beyond the Jordan:  and the multitude flocked to him again.  And as he
was accustomed, he taught them again.
10:2. And the Pharisees coming to him asked him, tempting him:  Is it
lawful for a man to put away his wife?
10:3. But he answering, saith to them:  What did Moses command you?
10:4. Who said:  Moses permitted to write a bill of divorce and to put
10:5. To whom Jesus answering, said:  Because of the hardness of your
heart, he wrote you that precept.
10:6. But from the beginning of the creation, God made them male and
10:7. For this cause, a man shall leave his father and mother and shall
cleave to his wife.
10:8. And they two shall be in one flesh.  Therefore now they are not
two, but one flesh.
10:9. What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.
10:10. And in the house again his disciples asked him concerning the
10:11. And he saith to them:  Whosoever shall put away his wife and
marry another committeth adultery against her.
10:12. And if the wife shall put away her husband and be married to
another, she committeth adultery.
10:13. And they brought to him young children, that he might touch
them.  And the disciples rebuked them that brought them.
10:14. Whom when Jesus saw, he was much displeased and saith to them:
Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not:  for of
such is the kingdom of God.
10:15. Amen I say to you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of
God as a little child shall not enter into it.
10:16. And embracing them and laying his hands upon them, he blessed
10:17. And when he was gone forth into the way, a certain man, running
up and kneeling before him, asked him:  Good Master, what shall I do
that I may receive life everlasting?
10:18. And Jesus said to him:  Why callest thou me good?  None is good
but one, that is God.
None is good. . .Of himself entirely and essentially, but God alone; men
may be good also, but only by participation of God's goodness.
10:19. Thou knowest the commandments:  Do not commit adultery, do not
kill, do not steal, bear not false witness, do no fraud, honour thy
father and mother.
10:20. But he answering, said to him:  Master, all these things I have
observed from my youth.
10:21. And Jesus, looking on him, loved him and said to him:  One thing
is wanting unto thee.  Go, sell whatsoever thou hast and give to the
poor:  and thou shalt have treasure in heaven.  And come, follow me.
10:22. Who being struck sad at that saying, went away sorrowful:  for he
had great possessions.
10:23. And Jesus looking round about, saith to his disciples:  How
hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God!
10:24. And the disciples were astonished at his words.  But Jesus again
answering, saith to them:  Children, how hard is it for them that trust
in riches to enter into the kingdom of God?
10:25. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle
than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.
10:26. Who wondered the more, saying among themselves:  Who then can be
10:27. And Jesus looking on them, saith with men it is impossible; but
not with God.  For all things are possible with God.
10:28. And Peter began to say unto him:  Behold, we have left all things
and have followed thee.
10:29. Jesus answering said:  Amen I say to you, there is no man who
hath left house or brethren or sisters or father or mother or children
or lands, for my sake and for the gospel,
10:30. Who shall not receive an hundred times as much, now in this
time:  houses and brethren and sisters and mothers and children and
lands, with persecutions:  and in the world to come life everlasting.
10:31. But many that are first shall be last:  and the last, first.
10:32. And they were in the way going up to Jerusalem:  and Jesus went
before them.  And they were astonished and following were afraid.  And
taking again the twelve, he began to tell them the things that should
10:33. Saying:  Behold we go up to Jerusalem, and the Son of man shall
be betrayed to the chief priests and to the scribes and ancients.  And
they shall condemn him to death and shall deliver him to the Gentiles.
10:34. And they shall mock him and spit on him and scourge him and kill
him:  and the third day he shall rise again.
10:35. And James and John, the sons of Zebedee, come to him, saying:
Master, we desire that whatsoever we shall ask, thou wouldst do it for
10:36. But he said to them:  What would you that I should do for you?
10:37. And they said:  Grant to us that we may sit, one on thy right
hand and the other on thy left hand, in thy glory.
10:38. And Jesus said to them:  You know not what you ask.  Can you drink
of the chalice that I drink of or be baptized with the baptism
wherewith I am baptized?
10:39. But they said to him:  We can.  And Jesus saith to them:  You
shall indeed drink of the chalice that I drink of; and with the baptism
wherewith I am baptized you shall be baptized.
10:40. But to sit on my right hand or on my left is not mine to give to
you, but to them for whom it is prepared.
10:41. And the ten, hearing it, began to be much displeased at James
10:42. But Jesus calling them, saith to them:  You know that they who
seem to rule over the Gentiles lord it over them:  and their princes
have power over them.
10:43. But it is not so among you:  but whosoever will be greater shall
be your minister.
10:44. And whosoever will be first among you shall be the servant of
10:45. For the Son of man also is not come to be ministered unto:  but
to minister and to give his life a redemption for many.
10:46. And they came to Jericho.  And as he went out of Jericho with his
disciples and a very great multitude, Bartimeus the blind man, the son
of Timeus, sat by the way side begging.
10:47. Who when he had heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, began to
cry out and to say:  Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.
10:48. And many rebuked him, that he might hold his peace; but he cried
a great deal the more:  Son of David, have mercy on me.
10:49. And Jesus, standing still, commanded him to be called.  And they
call the blind man, saying to him:  Be of better comfort.  Arise, he
calleth thee.
10:50. Who casting off his garment leaped up and came to him.
10:51. And Jesus answering, said to him:  What wilt thou that I should
do to thee?  And the blind man said to him:  Rabboni.  That I may see.
10:52. And Jesus saith to him:  Go thy way.  Thy faith hath made thee
whole.  And immediately he saw and followed him in the way.
Mark Chapter 11
Christ enters into Jerusalem upon an ass.  He curses the barren fig tree
and drives the buyers and sellers out of the temple.
11:1. And when they were drawing near to Jerusalem and to Bethania, at
the mount of Olives, he sendeth two of his disciples,
11:2. And saith to them:  Go into the village that is over against you,
and immediately at your coming in thither, you shall find a colt tied,
upon which no man yet hath sat.  Loose him and bring him.
11:3. And if any man shall say to you:  What are you doing?  Say ye that
the Lord hath need of him.  And immediately he will let him come hither.
11:4. And going their way, they found the colt tied before the gate
without, in the meeting of two ways.  And they loose him.
11:5. And some of them that stood there said to them:  What do you
loosing the colt?
11:6. Who said to them as Jesus had commanded them.  And they let him go
11:7. And they brought the colt to Jesus.  And they lay their garments
on him:  and he sat upon him.
11:8. And many spread their garments in the way:  and others cut down
boughs from the trees and strewed them in the way.
11:9. And they that went before and they that followed cried, saying:
Hosanna:  Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.
11:10. Blessed be the kingdom of our father David that cometh:  Hosanna
in the highest.
11:11. And he entered into Jerusalem, into the temple:  and having
viewed all things round about, when now the eventide was come, he went
out to Bethania with the twelve.
11:12. And the next day when they came out from Bethania, he was
11:13. And when he had seen afar off a fig tree having leaves, he came,
if perhaps he might find any thing on it.  And when he was come to it,
he found nothing but leaves.  For it was not the time for figs.
11:14. And answering he said to it:  May no man hereafter eat fruit of
thee any more for ever!  And his disciples heard it.
11:15. And they came to Jerusalem.  And when he was entered into the
temple, he began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple:
and over threw the tables of the moneychangers and the chairs of them
that sold doves.
11:16. And he suffered not that any man should carry a vessel through
11:17. And he taught, saying to them:  Is it not written:  My house shall
be called the house of prayer to all nations, but you have made it a
den of thieves.
11:18. Which when the chief priests and the scribes had heard, they
sought how they might destroy him.  For they feared him, because the
whole multitude was in admiration at his doctrine.
11:19. And when evening was come, he went forth out of the city.
11:20. And when they passed by in the morning they saw the fig tree
dried up from the roots.
11:21. And Peter remembering, said to him:  Rabbi, behold the fig tree
which thou didst curse is withered away.
11:22. And Jesus answering, saith to them:  Have the faith of God.
11:23. Amen I say to you that whosoever shall say to this mountain, Be
thou removed and be cast into the sea, and shall not stagger in his
heart, but be believe that whatsoever he saith shall be done; it shall
be done unto him.
11:24. Therefore I say unto you, all things, whatsoever you ask when ye
pray, believe that you shall receive:  and they shall come unto you.
11:25. And when you shall stand to pray, forgive, if you have aught
against any man:  that your Father also, who is in heaven, may forgive
you your sins.
11:26. But if you will not forgive, neither will your father that is in
heaven forgive you your sins.
11:27. And they come again to Jerusalem.  And when he was walking in the
temple, there come to him the chief priests and the scribes and the
11:28. And they say to him:  By what authority dost thou these things?
And who hath given thee this authority that thou shouldst do these
11:29. And Jesus answering, said to them:  I will also ask you one word.
And answer you me:  and I will tell you by what authority I do these
11:30. The baptism of John, was it from heaven or from men?  Answer me.
11:31. But they thought with themselves, saying:  If we say, From
heaven; he will say, Why then did you not believe him?
11:32. If we say, From men, we fear the people.  For all men counted
John that he was a prophet indeed.
11:33. And they answering, say to Jesus:  We know not.  And Jesus
answering, saith to them:  Neither do I tell you by what authority I do
these things.
Mark Chapter 12
The parable of the vineyard and husbandmen.  Caesar's right to tribute.
The Sadducees are confuted.  The first commandment.  The widow's mite.
12:1. And he began to speak to them in parables:  A certain man planted
a vineyard and made a hedge about it and dug a place for the winefat
and built a tower and let it to husbandmen:  and went into a far
12:2. And at the season he sent to the husbandmen a servant to receive
of the husbandmen of the fruit of the vineyard.
12:3. Who, having laid hands on him, beat and sent him away empty.
12:4. And again he sent to them another servant:  and him they wounded
in the head and used him reproachfully.
12:5. And again he sent another, and him they killed:  and many others,
of whom some they beat, and others they killed.
12:6. Therefore, having yet one son, most dear to him, he also sent him
unto them last of all, saying:  They will reverence my son.
12:7. But the husbandmen said one to another:  This is the heir.  Come
let us kill him and the inheritance shall be ours.
12:8. And laying hold on him, they killed him and cast him out of the
12:9. What therefore will the lord of the vineyard do?  He will come and
destroy those husbandmen and will give the vineyard to others.
12:10. And have you not read this scripture, The stone which the
builders rejected, the same is made the head of the corner:
12:11. By the Lord has this been done, and it is wonderful in our eyes.
12:12. And they sought to lay hands on him:  but they feared the people.
For they knew that he spoke this parable to them.  And leaving him, they
went their way.
12:13. And they sent to him some of the Pharisees and of the Herodians:
that they should catch him in his words.
12:14. Who coming, say to him:  Master, we know that thou art a true
speaker and carest not for any man; for thou regardest not the person
of men, but teachest the way of God in truth.  Is it lawful to give
tribute to Caesar?  Or shall we not give it?
12:15. Who knowing their wiliness, saith to them:  Why tempt you me?
Bring me a penny that I may see it.
12:16. And they brought it him.  And he saith to them:  Whose is this
image and inscription?  They say to him, Caesar's.
12:17. And Jesus answering, said to them:  Render therefore to Caesar
the things that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's.  And
they marvelled at him.
12:18. And there came to him the Sadducees, who say there is no
resurrection.  And they asked him, saying:
12:19. Master, Moses wrote unto us that if any man's brother die and
leave his wife behind him and leave no children, his brother should
take his wife and raise up seed to his brother.
12:20. Now there were seven brethren:  and the first took a wife and
died leaving no issue.
12:21. And the second took her and died:  and neither did he leave any
issue.  And the third in like manner.
12:22. And the seven all took her in like manner and did not leave
issue.  Last of all the woman also died.
12:23. In the resurrection therefore, when they shall rise again, whose
wife shall she be of them?  For the seven had her to wife.
12:24. And Jesus answering, saith to them:  Do ye not therefore err,
because you know not the scriptures nor the power of God?
12:25. For when they shall rise again from the dead, they shall neither
marry, nor be married, but are as the angels in heaven.
12:26. And as concerning the dead that they rise again have you not
read in the book of Moses, how in the bush God spoke to him, saying:  I
am the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob?
12:27. He is not the God of the dead, but of the living.  You therefore
do greatly err.
12:28. And there came one of the scribes that had heard them reasoning
together, and seeing that he had answered them well, asked him which
was the first commandment of all.
12:29. And Jesus answered him:  The first commandment of all is, Hear, O
Israel:  the Lord thy God is one God.
12:30. And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and
with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind and with thy whole
strength.  This is the first commandment.
12:31. And the second is like to it:  Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
thyself.  There is no other commandment greater than these.
12:32. And the scribe said to him:  Well, Master, thou hast said in
truth that there is one God and there is no other besides him.
12:33. And that he should be loved with the whole heart and with the
whole understanding and with the whole soul and with the whole
strength.  And to love one's neighbour as one's self is a greater thing
than all holocausts and sacrifices.
12:34. And Jesus seeing that he had answered wisely, said to him:  Thou
art not far from the kingdom of God.  And no man after that durst ask
him any question.
12:35. And Jesus answering, said, teaching in the temple:  How do the
scribes say that Christ is the son of David?
12:36. For David himself saith by the Holy Ghost:  The Lord said to my
Lord:  Sit on my right hand, until I make thy enemies thy footstool.
12:37. David therefore himself calleth him Lord.  And whence is he then
his son?  And a great multitude heard him gladly.
12:38. And he said to them in his doctrine:  Beware of the scribes, who
love to walk in long robes and to be saluted in the marketplace,
12:39. And to sit in the first chairs in the synagogues and to have the
highest places at suppers:
12:40. Who devour the houses of widows under the pretence of long
prayer.  These shall receive greater judgment.
12:41. And Jesus sitting over against the treasury, beheld how the
people cast money into the treasury.  And many that were rich cast in
12:42. And there came a certain poor widow:  and she cast in two mites,
which make a farthing.
12:43. And calling his disciples together, he saith to them:  Amen I say
to you, this poor widow hath cast in more than all they who have cast
into the treasury.
12:44. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want
cast in all she had, even her whole living.
Mark Chapter 13
Christ foretells the destruction of the temple and the signs that shall
forerun the day of judgment.
13:1. And as he was going out of the temple, one of his disciples said
to him:  Master, behold what manner of stones and what buildings are
13:2. And Jesus answering, said to him:  Seest thou all these great
buildings?  There shall not be left a stone upon a stone, that shall not
be thrown down.
13:3. And as he sat on the mount of Olivet over against the temple,
Peter and James and John and Andrew asked him apart:
13:4. Tell us, when shall these things be and what shall be the sign
when all these things shall begin to be fulfilled?
13:5. And Jesus answering, began to say to them:  Take heed lest any man
deceive you.
13:6. For many shall come in my name saying, I am he:  and they shall
deceive many.
13:7. And when you shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, fear ye not.
For such things must needs be:  but the end is not yet.
13:8. For nation shall rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom:
and there shall be earthquakes in divers places and famines.  These
things are the beginning of sorrows.
13:9. But look to yourselves.  For they shall deliver you Up to
councils:  and in the synagogues you shall be beaten:  and you shall
stand before governors and kings for my sake, for a testimony unto
13:10. And unto all nations the gospel must first be preached.
13:11. And when they shall lead you and deliver you up, be not
thoughtful beforehand what you shall speak:  but whatsoever shall be
given you in that hour, that speak ye.  For it is not you that speak,
but the Holy Ghost.
13:12. And the brother shall betray his brother unto death, and the
father his son; and children shall rise up against their parents and
shall work their death.
13:13. And you shall be hated by all men for my name's sake.  But he
that shall endure unto the end, he shall be saved.
13:14. And when you shall see the abomination of desolation, standing
where it ought not (he that readeth let him understand):  then let them
that are in Judea flee unto the mountains.
13:15. And let him that is on the housetop not go down into the house
nor enter therein to take any thing out of the house.
13:16. And let him that shall be in the field not turn back to take up
his garment.
13:17. And woe to them that are with child and that give suck in those
13:18. But pray ye that these things happen not in winter.
13:19. For in those days shall be such tribulations as were not from
the beginning of the creation which God created until now:  neither
13:20. And unless the Lord had shortened the days, no flesh should be
saved:  but, for the sake of the elect which he hath chosen, he hath
shortened the days.
13:21. And then if any man shall say to you:  Lo, here is Christ.  Lo, he
is here:  do not believe.
13:22. For there will rise up false Christs and false prophets:  and
they shall shew signs and wonders, to seduce (if it were possible) even
13:23. Take you heed therefore:  behold, I have foretold you all things.
13:24. But in those days, after that tribulation, the sun shall be
darkened and the moon shall not give her light.
13:25. And the stars of heaven shall be falling down and the powers
that are in heaven shall be moved.
13:26. And then shall they see the Son of man coming in the clouds,
with great power and glory.
13:27. And then shall he send his angels and shall gather together his
elect from the four winds, from the uttermost part of the earth to the
uttermost part of heaven.
13:28. Now of the fig tree learn ye a parable.  When the branch thereof
is now tender and the leaves are come forth, you know that summer is
13:29. So you also when you shall see these things come to pass, know
ye that it is very nigh, even at the doors.
13:30. Amen, I say to you that this generation shall not pass until all
these things be done.
13:31. Heaven and earth shall pass away:  but my word shall not pass
13:32. But of that day or hour no man knoweth, neither the angels in
heaven, nor the Son, but the Father.
Nor the Son. . .Not that the Son of God is absolutely ignorant of the
day of judgment, but that he knoweth it not, as our teacher; that is,
he knoweth it not so as to teach it to us, as not being expedient.
13:33. Take ye heed, watch and pray.  For ye know not when the time is.
13:34. Even as a man who, going into a far country, left his house and
gave authority to his servants over every work and commanded the porter
13:35. Watch ye therefore (for you know not when the lord of the house
cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cock crowing, or in the
13:36. Lest coming on a sudden, he find you sleeping.
13:37. And what I say to you, I say to all:  Watch.
Mark Chapter 14
The first part of the history of the passion of Christ.
14:1. Now the feast of the pasch and of the Azymes was after two days:
and the chief priests and the scribes sought how they might by some
wile lay hold on him and kill him.
Azymes. . .That is, the feast of the unleavened bread.
14:2. But they said:  Not on the festival day, lest there should be a
tumult among the people.
14:3. And when he was in Bethania, in the house of Simon the leper, and
was at meat, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of
precious spikenard.  And breaking the alabaster box, she poured it out
upon his head.
14:4. Now there were some that had indignation within themselves and
said:  Why was this waste of the ointment made?
14:5. For this ointment might have been sold for more than three
hundred pence and given to the poor.  And they murmured against her.
14:6. But Jesus said:  Let her alone.  Why do You molest her?  She hath
wrought a good work upon me.
14:7. For the poor you have always with you:  and whensoever you will,
you may do them good:  but me you have not always.
14:8. She hath done what she could:  she is come beforehand to anoint my
body for the burial.
14:9. Amen, I say to you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in
the whole world, that also which she hath done shall be told for a
memorial of her.
14:10. And Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve, went to the chief
priests, to betray him to them.
14:11. Who hearing it were glad:  and they promised him they would give
him money.  And he sought how he might conveniently betray him.
14:12. Now on the first day of the unleavened bread, when they
sacrificed the pasch, the disciples say to him:  Whither wilt thou that
we go and prepare for thee to eat the pasch?
14:13. And he sendeth two of his disciples and saith to them:  Go ye
into the city; and there shall meet you a man carrying a pitcher of
water.  Follow him.
14:14. And whithersoever he shall go in, say to the master of the
house, The master saith, Where is my refectory, where I may eat the
pasch with my disciples?
14:15. And he will shew you a large dining room furnished.  And there
prepare ye for us.
14:16. And his disciples went their way and came into the city.  And
they found as he had told them:  and they prepared the pasch.
14:17. And when evening was come, he cometh with the twelve.
14:18. And when they were at table and eating, Jesus saith:  Amen I say
to you, one of you that eateth with me shall betray me.
14:19. But they began to be sorrowful and to say to him, one by one:  Is
14:20. Who saith to them:  One of the twelve, who dippeth with me his
hand in the dish.
14:21. And the Son of man indeed goeth, as it is written of him:  but
woe to that man by whom the Son of man shall be betrayed.  It were
better for him, if that man had not been born.
14:22. And whilst they were eating, Jesus took bread; and blessing,
broke and gave to them and said:  Take ye.  This is my body.
14:23. And having taken the chalice, giving thanks, he gave it to them.
And they all drank of it.
14:24. And he said to them:  This is my blood of the new testament,
which shall be shed for many.
14:25. Amen I say to you that I will drink no more of the fruit of the
vine until that day when I shall drink it new in the kingdom of God.
14:26. And when they had sung an hymn, they went forth to the mount of
14:27. And Jesus saith to them:  You will all be scandalized in my
regard this night.  For it is written:  I will strike the shepherd, and
the sheep shall be dispersed.
14:28. But after I shall be risen again, I will go before you into
14:29. But Peter saith to him:  Although all shall be scandalized in
thee, yet not I.
14:30. And Jesus saith to him:  Amen I say to thee, to-day, even in this
night, before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice.
Crow twice. . .The cocks crow at two different times of the night; viz.,
about midnight for the first time; and then about the time commonly
called the cock crowing; and this was the cock crowing our Saviour
spoke of; and therefore the other Evangelists take no notice of the
first crowing.
14:31. But he spoke the more vehemently:  Although I should die together
with thee, I will not deny thee.  And in like manner also said they all.
14:32. And they came to a farm called Gethsemani.  And he saith to his
disciples:  Sit you here, while I pray.
14:33. And he taketh Peter and James and John with him:  and he began to
fear and to be heavy.
14:34. And he saith to them:  My soul is sorrowful even unto death.  Stay
you here and watch.
14:35. And when he was gone forward a little, he fell flat on the
ground:  and he prayed that, if it might be, the hour might pass from
14:36. And he saith:  Abba, Father, all things are possible to thee:
remove this chalice from me; but not what I will, but what thou wilt.
14:37. And he cometh and findeth them sleeping.  And he saith to Peter:
Simon, sleepest thou?  Couldst thou not watch one hour?
14:38. Watch ye:  and pray that you enter not into temptation.  The
spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.
14:39. And going away again, he prayed, saying the same words.
14:40. And when he returned, he found them again asleep (for their eyes
were heavy):  and they knew not what to answer him.
14:41. And he cometh the third time and saith to them:  Sleep ye now and
take your rest.  It is enough.  The hour is come:  behold the Son of man
shall be betrayed into the hands of sinners.
14:42. Rise up:  let us go.  Behold, he that will betray me is at hand.
14:43. And while he was yet speaking, cometh Judas Iscariot, one of the
twelve:  and with him a great multitude with swords and staves, from the
chief priests and the scribes and the ancients.
14:44. And he that betrayed him had given them a sign, saying:
Whomsoever I shall kiss, that is he.  Lay hold on him:  and lead him away
14:45. And when he was come, immediately going up to him he saith:
Hail, Rabbi!  And he kissed him.
14:46. But they laid hands on him and held him.
14:47. And one of them that stood by, drawing a sword, struck a servant
of the chief priest and cut off his ear.
14:48. And Jesus answering, said to them:  Are you come out as to a
robber, with swords and staves to apprehend me?
14:49. I was daily with you in the temple teaching:  and you did not lay
hands on me.  But that the scriptures may be fulfilled.
14:50. Then his disciples, leaving him, all fled away.
14:51. And a certain young man followed him, having a linen cloth cast
about his naked body.  And they laid hold on him.
14:52. But he, casting off the linen cloth, fled from them naked.
14:53. And they brought Jesus to the high priest.  And all the priests
and the scribes and the ancients assembled together.
14:54. And Peter followed him afar off, even into the court of the high
priest.  And he sat with the servants at the fire and warmed himself.
14:55. And the chief priests and all the council sought for evidence
against Jesus, that they might put him to death:  and found none.
14:56. For many bore false witness against him:  and their evidences
were not agreeing.
14:57. And some rising up, bore false witness against him, saying:
14:58. We heard him say, I Will destroy this temple made with hands and
within three days I will build another not made with hands.
14:59. And their witness did not agree.
14:60. And the high priest rising up in the midst, asked Jesus, saying:
Answerest thou nothing to the things that are laid to thy charge by
14:61. But he held his peace and answered nothing.  Again the high
priest asked him and said to him:  Art thou the Christ, the Son of the
Blessed God?
14:62. And Jesus said to him:  I am.  And you shall see the Son of man
sitting on the right hand of the power of God and coming with the
clouds of heaven.
14:63. Then the high priest rending his garments, saith:  What need we
any further witnesses?
14:64. You have heard the blasphemy.  What think you?  Who all condemned
him to be guilty of death.
14:65. And some began to spit on him and to cover his face and to
buffet him and to say unto him:  Prophesy.  And the servants struck him
with the palms their hands.
14:66. Now when Peter was in the court below, there cometh one of the
maidservants of the high priest.
14:67. And when she had seen Peter warming himself looking on him, she
saith:  Thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth.
14:68. But he denied, saying:  I neither know nor understand what thou
sayest.  And he went forth before the court; and the cock crew.
14:69. And again a maidservant seeing him, began to say to the standers
by:  This is one of them.
14:70. But he denied again.  And after a, while they that stood by said
again to Peter:  Surely thou art one of them; for thou art also a
14:71. But he began o curse and to swear, saying:  I know not this man
of whom you speak.
14:72. And immediately the cock crew again.  And Peter remembered the
word that Jesus had said unto him:  Before the cock crow twice, thou
shalt thrice deny me.  And he began to weep,
Mark Chapter 15
The continuation of the history of the passion.
15:1. And straightway in the morning, the chief priests holding a
consultation with the ancients and the scribes and the whole council,
binding Jesus, led him away and delivered him to Pilate.
15:2. And Pilate asked him:  Art thou the king of the Jews?  But he
answering, saith to him:  Thou sayest it.
15:3. And the chief priests accused him in many things.
15:4. And Pilate again asked him, saying:  Answerest thou nothing?
Behold in how many things they accuse thee.
15:5. But Jesus still answered nothing:  so that Pilate wondered.
15:6. Now on the festival day he was wont to release unto them one of
the prisoners, whomsoever they demanded.
15:7. And there was one called Barabbas, who was put in prison with
some seditious men, who in the sedition had committed murder.
15:8. And when the multitude was come up, they began to desire that he
would do as he had ever done unto them.
15:9. And Pilate answered them and said:  Will you that I release to you
the king of the Jews?
15:10. For he knew that the chief priests had delivered him up out of
15:11. But the chief priests moved the people, that he should rather
release Barabbas to them.
15:12. And Pilate again answering, saith to them:  What will you then
that I do to the king of the Jews?
15:13. But they again cried out:  Crucify him.
15:14. And Pilate saith to them:  Why, what evil hath he done?  But they
cried out the more:  Crucify him.
15:15. And so Pilate being willing to satisfy the people, released to
them Barabbas:  and delivered up Jesus, when he had scourged him, to be
15:16. And the soldiers led him away into the court of the palace:  and
they called together the whole band.
15:17. And they clothed him with purple:  and, platting a crown of
thorns, they put it upon him.
15:18. And they began to salute him:  Hail, king of the Jews.
15:19. And they struck his head with a reed:  and they did spit on him.
And bowing their knees, they adored him.
15:20. And after they had mocked him, they took off the purple from him
and put his own garments on him:  and they led him out to crucify him.
15:21. And they forced one Simon a Cyrenian, who passed by coming out
of the country, the father of Alexander and of Rufus, to take up his
15:22. And they bring him into the place called Golgotha, which being
interpreted is, The place of Calvary.
15:23. And they gave him to drink wine mingled with myrrh.  But he took
15:24. And crucifying him, they divided his garments, casting lots upon
them, what every man should take.
15:25. And it was the third hour:  and they crucified him.
The third hour. . .The ancient account divided the day into four parts,
which were named from the hour from which they began; the first, third,
sixth, and ninth hour.  Our Lord was crucified a little before noon;
before the third hour had quite expired; but when the sixth hour was
near at hand.
15:26. And the inscription of his cause was written over:  THE KING OF
15:27. And with him they crucify two thieves:  the one on his right
hand, and the other on his left.
15:28. And the scripture was fulfilled, which saith:  And with the
wicked he was reputed.
15:29. And they that passed by blasphemed him, wagging their heads and
saying:  Vah, thou that destroyest the temple of God and in three days
buildest it up again:
15:30. Save thyself, coming down from the cross.
15:31. In like manner also the chief priests, mocking, said with the
scribes one to another:  He saved others; himself he cannot save.
15:32. Let Christ the king of Israel come down now from the cross, that
we may see and believe.  And they that were crucified with him, reviled
15:33. And when the sixth hour was come, there was darkness over the
whole earth until the ninth hour.
15:34. And at the ninth hour, Jesus cried out with a loud voice,
saying:  Eloi, Eloi, lamma sabacthani?  Which is, being interpreted:  My
God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me?
15:35. And some of the standers by hearing, said:  Behold he calleth
15:36. And one running and filling a sponge with vinegar and putting it
upon a reed, gave him to drink, saying:  Stay, let us see if Elias come
to take him down.
15:37. And Jesus, having cried out with a loud voice, gave up the
15:38. And the veil of the temple was rent in two, from the top to the
15:39. And the centurion who stood over against him, seeing that crying
out in this manner he had given up the ghost.  said:  Indeed this man was
the son of God.
15:40. And there were also women looking on afar off:  among whom was
Mary Magdalen and Mary the mother of James the Less and of Joseph and
15:41. Who also when he was in Galilee followed him and ministered to
him, and many other women that came up with him to Jerusalem.
15:42. And when evening was now come (because it was the Parasceve,
that is, the day before the sabbath),
15:43. Joseph of Arimathea, a noble counsellor, who was also himself
looking for the kingdom of God, came and went in boldly to Pilate and
begged the body of Jesus.
15:44. But Pilate wondered that he should be already dead.  And sending
for the centurion, he asked him if he were already dead.
15:45. And when he had understood it by the centurion, he gave the body
15:46. And Joseph, buying fine linen and taking him down, wrapped him
up in the fine linen and laid him in a sepulchre which was hewed out of
a rock.  And he rolled a stone to the door of the sepulchre.
15:47. And Mary Magdalen and Mary the mother of Joseph, beheld where he
Mark Chapter 16
Christ's resurrection and ascension.
16:1. And when the sabbath was past, Mary Magdalen and Mary the mother
of James and Salome bought sweet spices, that coming, they might anoint
16:2. And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they
come to the sepulchre, the sun being now risen.
The sun being now risen. . .They set out before it was light, to go to
the sepulchre; but the sun was risen when they arrived there.  Or,
figuratively, the sun here spoken of is the sun of justice, Christ
Jesus our Lord, who was risen before their coming.
16:3. And they said one to another:  Who shall roll us back the stone
from the door of the sepulchre?
16:4. And looking, they saw the stone rolled back.  For it was very
16:5. And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on
the right side, clothed with a white robe:  and they were astonished.
16:6. Who saith to them:  Be not affrighted.  you seek Jesus of Nazareth,
who was crucified.  He is risen:  he is not here.  Behold the place where
they laid him.
16:7. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he goeth before you
into Galilee.  There you shall see him, as he told you.
16:8. But they going out, fled from the sepulchre:  for a trembling and
fear had seized them.  And they said nothing to any man:  for they were
16:9. But he rising early the first day of the week, appeared first to
Mary Magdalen; out of whom he had cast seven devils.
16:10. She went and told them that had been with him, who were mourning
and weeping.
16:11. And they hearing that he was alive and had been seen by her, did
not believe.
16:12. And after that he appeared in another shape to two of them
walking, as they were going into the country.
16:13. And they going told it to the rest:  neither did they believe
16:14. At length he appeared to the eleven as they were at table:  and
he upbraided them with their incredulity and hardness of heart, because
they did not believe them who had seen him after he was risen again.
16:15. And he said to them:  Go ye into the whole world and preach the
gospel to every creature.
16:16. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved:  but he that
believeth not shall he condemned.
16:17. And these signs shall follow them that believe:  In my name they
shall cast out devils.  They shall speak with new tongues.
16:18. They shall take up serpents:  and if they shall drink any deadly
thing, it shall not hurt them.  They shall lay their hand upon the sick:
and they shall recover.
16:19. And the Lord Jesus, after he had spoken to them, was taken up
into heaven and sitteth on the right hand of God.
16:20. But they going forth preached every where:  the Lord working
withal, and confirming the word with signs that followed.
THE HOLY GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST ACCORDING TO ST. LUKE
St. Luke was a native of Antioch, the capital of Syria.  He was by
profession a physician; and some ancient writers say, that he was very
skillful in painting.  He was converted by St. Paul and became his
disciple and companion in his travels, and fellow-labourer in the
ministry of the Gospel.  He wrote in Greek, about twenty-four years
after our Lord's Ascension.
Luke Chapter 1
The conception of John the Baptist, and of Christ.  The visitation and
canticle of the Blessed Virgin.  The birth of the Baptist and the
canticle of Zachary.
1:1. Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a
narration of the things that have been accomplished among us,
1:2. According as they have delivered them unto us, who from the
beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word:
1:3. It seemed good to me also, having diligently attained to all
things from the beginning, to write to thee in order, most excellent
1:4. That thou mayest know the verity of those words in which thou hast
been instructed.
1:5. There was in the days of Herod, the king of Judea, a certain
priest named Zachary, of the course of Abia:  and his wife was of the
daughters of Aaron, and her name Elizabeth.
Of the course of Abia. . .that is, of the rank of Abia, which word in
the Greek is commonly put for the employment of one day:  but here for
the functions of a whole week.  For, by the appointment of David, 1 Par.
24., the descendants from Aaron were divided into twenty-four families,
of which the eighth was Abia, from whom descended this Zachary, who at
this time was in the week of his priestly functions.
1:6. And they were both just before God, walking in all the
commandments and justifications of the Lord without blame.
1:7. And they had no son, for that Elizabeth was barren:  and they both
were well advanced in years.
1:8. And it came to pass, when he executed the priestly function in the
order of his course before God,
1:9. According to the custom of the priestly office, it was his lot to
offer incense, going into the temple of the Lord.
1:10. And all the multitude of the people was praying without, at the
hour of incense.
1:11. And there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing on the
right side of the altar of incense.
1:12. And Zachary seeing him, was troubled:  and fear fell upon him.
1:13. But the angel said to him:  Fear not, Zachary, for thy prayer is
heard:  and thy wife Elizabeth shall bear thee a son.  And thou shalt
call his name John.
1:14. And thou shalt have joy and gladness:  and many shall rejoice in
his nativity.
1:15. For he shall be great before the Lord and shall drink no wine nor
strong drink:  and he shall be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his
mother's womb.
1:16. And he shall convert many of the children of Israel to the Lord
1:17. And he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias:  that
he may turn the hearts of the fathers unto the children and the
incredulous to the wisdom of the just, to prepare unto the Lord a
perfect people.
1:18. And Zachary said to the angel:  Whereby shall I know this?  For I
am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.
1:19. And the angel answering, said to him:  I am Gabriel, who stand
before God and am sent to speak to thee and to bring thee these good
1:20. And behold, thou shalt be dumb and shalt not be able to speak
until the day wherein these things shall come to pass:  because thou
hast not believed my words, which shall be fulfilled in their time.
1:21. And the people were waiting for Zachary:  and they wondered that
he tarried so long in the temple.
1:22. And when he came out, he could not speak to them:  and they
understood that he had seen a vision in the temple.  And he made signs
to them and remained dumb.
1:23. And it came to pass, after the days of his office were
accomplished, he departed to his own house.
1:24. And after those days, Elizabeth his wife conceived and hid
herself five months, saying:
1:25. Thus hath the Lord dealt with me in the days wherein he hath had
regard to take away my reproach among men.
1:26. And in the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God into
a city of Galilee, called Nazareth,
1:27. To a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house
of David:  and the virgin's name was Mary.
1:28. And the angel being come in, said unto her:  Hail, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee:  blessed art thou among women.
1:29. Who having heard, was troubled at his saying and thought with
herself what manner of salutation this should be.
1:30. And the angel said to her:  Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found
grace with God.
1:31. Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb and shalt bring forth a
son:  and thou shalt call his name Jesus.
1:32. He shall be great and shall be called the Son of the Most High.
And the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father:
and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever.
1:33. And of his kingdom there shall be no end.
1:34. And Mary said to the angel:  How shall this be done, because I
know not man?
1:35. And the angel answering, said to her:  The Holy Ghost shall come
upon thee and the power of the Most High shall overshadow thee.  And
therefore also the Holy which shall be born of thee shall be called the
1:36. And behold thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in
her old age:  and this is the sixth month with her that is called
1:37. Because no word shall be impossible with God.
1:38. And Mary said:  Behold the handmaid of the Lord:  be it done to me
according to thy word.  And the angel departed from her.
1:39. And Mary rising up in those days, went into the hill country with
haste into a city of Juda.
1:40. And she entered into the house of Zachary and saluted Elizabeth.
1:41. And it came to pass that when Elizabeth heard the salutation of
Mary, the infant leaped in her womb.  And Elizabeth was filled with the
1:42. And she cried out with a loud voice and said:  Blessed art thou
among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb.
1:43. And whence is this to me that the mother of my Lord should come
1:44. For behold as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my
ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.
1:45. And blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things
shall be accomplished that were spoken to thee by the Lord.
1:46. And Mary said:  My soul doth magnify the Lord.
1:47. And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
1:48. Because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid:  for behold
from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
Shall call me blessed. . .These words are a prediction of that honour
which the church in all ages should pay to the Blessed Virgin.  Let
Protestants examine whether they are any way concerned in this
1:49. Because he that is mighty hath done great things to me:  and holy
is his name.
1:50. And his mercy is from generation unto generations, to them that
1:51. He hath shewed might in his arm:  he hath scattered the proud in
the conceit of their heart.
1:52. He hath put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the
1:53. He hath filled the hungry with good things:  and the rich he hath
sent empty away.
1:54. He hath received Israel his servant, being mindful of his mercy.
1:55. As he spoke to our fathers:  to Abraham and to his seed for ever.
1:56. And Mary abode with her about three months.  And she returned to
her own house.
1:57. Now Elizabeth's full time of being delivered was come:  and she
brought forth a son.
1:58. And her neighbors and kinsfolks heard that the Lord had shewed
his great mercy towards her:  and they congratulated with her.
1:59. And it came to pass that on the eighth day they came to
circumcise the child:  and they called him by his father's name Zachary.
1:60. And his mother answering, said:  Not so.  But he shall be called
1:61. And they said to her:  There is none of thy kindred that is called
by this name.
1:62. And they made signs to his father, how he would have him called.
1:63. And demanding a writing table, he wrote, saying:  John is his
name.  And they all wondered.
1:64. And immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed:  and
he spoke, blessing God.
1:65. And fear came upon all their neighbours:  and all these things
were noised abroad over all the hill country of Judea.
1:66. And all they that had heard them laid them up in their heart,
saying:  What an one, think ye, shall this child be?  For the hand of the
Lord was with him.
1:67. And Zachary his father was filled with the Holy Ghost.  And he
prophesied, saying:
1:68. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel:  because he hath visited and
wrought the redemption of his people.
1:69. And hath raised up an horn of salvation to us, in the house of
David his servant.
Horn of salvation. . .That is, A powerful salvation, as Dr.  Witham
translates it.  For in the Scripture, by horn is generally understood
strength and power.
1:70. As he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets, who are from the
1:71. Salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all that hate us.
1:72. To perform mercy to our fathers and to remember his holy
1:73. The oath, which he swore to Abraham our father, that he would
grant to us.
1:74. That being delivered from the hand of our enemies, we may serve
him without fear:
1:75. In holiness and justice before him, all our days.
1:76. And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest:  for
thou shalt, go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways:
1:77. To give knowledge of salvation to his people, unto the remission
of their sins.
1:78. Through the bowels of the mercy of our God, in which the Orient
from on high hath visited us:
The Orient. . .It is one of the titles of the Messias, the true light of
the world, and the sun of justice.
1:79. To enlighten them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of
death:  to direct our feet into the way of peace.
1:80. And the child grew and was strengthened in spirit:  and was in the
deserts until the day of his manifestation to Israel.
Luke Chapter 2
The birth of Christ.  His presentation in the temple.  Simeon's prophecy.
Christ at twelve years of age, is found amongst the doctors.
2:1. And it came to pass that in those days there went out a decree
from Caesar Augustus that the whole world should be enrolled.
2:2. This enrolling was first made by Cyrinus, the governor of Syria.
2:3. And all went to be enrolled, every one into his own city.
2:4. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth,
into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem:  because he
was of the house and family of David.
2:5. To be enrolled with Mary his espoused wife, who was with child.
2:6. And it came to pass that when they were there, her days were
accomplished that she should be delivered.
2:7. And she brought forth her first born son and wrapped him up in
swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger:  because there was no room
for them in the inn.
Her firstborn. . .The meaning is, not that she had afterward any other
child; but it is a way of speech among the Hebrews, to call them also
the firstborn, who are the only children.  See annotation Matt. 1. 25.
2:8. And there were in the same country shepherds watching and keeping
the night watches over their flock.
2:9. And behold an angel of the Lord stood by them and the brightness
of God shone round about them:  and they feared with a great fear.
2:10. And the angel said to them:  Fear not; for, behold, I bring you
good tidings of great joy that shall be to all the people:
2:11. For, this day is born to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord,
in the city of David.
2:12. And this shall be a sign unto you.  You shall find the infant
wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger.
2:13. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly
army, praising God and saying:
2:14. Glory to God in the highest:  and on earth peace to men of good
2:15. And it came to pass, after the angels departed from them into
heaven, the shepherds said one to another:  Let us go over to Bethlehem
and let us see this word that is come to pass, which the Lord hath
shewed to us.
2:16. And they came with haste:  and they found Mary and Joseph, and the
infant lying in the manger.
2:17. And seeing, they understood of the word that had been spoken to
them concerning this child.
2:18. And all that heard wondered:  and at those things that were told
them by the shepherds.
2:19. But Mary kept all these words, pondering them in her heart.
2:20. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all
the things they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
2:21. And after eight days were accomplished, that the child should be
circumcised, his name was called JESUS, which was called by the angel
before he was conceived in the womb.
2:22. And after the days of her purification, according to the law of
Moses, were accomplished, they carried him to Jerusalem, to present him
to the Lord:
2:23. As it is written in the law of the Lord:  Every male opening the
womb shall be called holy to the Lord:
2:24. And to offer a sacrifice, according as it is written in the law
of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons:
2:25. And behold there was a man in Jerusalem named Simeon:  and this
man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel.  And the
Holy Ghost was in him.
2:26. And he had received an answer from the Holy Ghost, that he should
not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord.
2:27. And he came by the Spirit into the temple.  And when his parents
brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of
2:28. He also took him into his arms and blessed God and said
2:29. Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, O Lord, according to thy word
2:30. Because my eyes have seen thy salvation,
2:31. Which thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples:
2:32. A light to the revelation of the Gentiles and the glory of thy
people Israel.
2:33. And his father and mother were wondering at those things which
were spoken concerning him.
2:34. And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother:  Behold this
child is set for the fall and for the resurrection of many in Israel
and for a sign which shall be contradicted.
For the fall, etc. . .Christ came for the salvation of all men; but here
Simeon prophesies what would come to pass, that many through their own
wilful blindness and obstinacy would not believe in Christ, nor receive
his doctrine, which therefore would be ruin to them:  but to others a
resurrection, by their believing in him, and obeying his commandments.
2:35. And thy own soul a sword shall pierce, that, out of many hearts
thoughts may be revealed.
2:36. And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of
the tribe of Aser.  She was far advanced in years and had lived with her
husband seven years from her virginity.
2:37. And she was a widow until fourscore and four years:  who departed
not from the temple, by fastings and prayers serving night and day.
2:38. Now she, at the same hour, coming in, confessed to the Lord:  and
spoke of him to all that looked for the redemption of Israel.
2:39. And after they had performed all things according to the law of
the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their city Nazareth.
2:40. And the child grew and waxed strong, full of wisdom:  and the
grace of God was in him.
2:41. And his parents went every year to Jerusalem, at the solemn day
of the pasch.
2:42. And when he was twelve years old, they going up into Jerusalem,
according to the custom of the feast,
2:43. And having fulfilled the days, when they returned, the child
Jesus remained in Jerusalem.  And his parents knew it not.
2:44. And thinking that he was in the company, they came a day's
journey and sought him among their kinsfolks and acquaintance.
2:45. And not finding him, they returned into Jerusalem, seeking him.
2:46. And it came to pass, that, after three days, they found him in
the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing them and
asking them questions.
2:47. And all that heard him were astonished at his wisdom and his
2:48. And seeing him, they wondered.  And his mother said to him:  Son,
why hast thou done so to us?  Behold thy father and I have sought thee
2:49. And he said to them:  How is it that you sought me?  Did you not
know that I must be about my father's business?
2:50. And they understood not the word that he spoke unto them.
2:51. And he went down with them and came to Nazareth and was subject
to them.  And his mother kept all these words in her heart.
2:52. And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and grace with God and men.
Luke Chapter 3
John's mission and preaching.  Christ is baptized by him.
3:1. Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius
Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee,
and Philip his brother tetrarch of Iturea and the country of
Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilina:
3:2. Under the high priests Anna and Caiphas:  the word of the Lord was
made unto John, the son of Zachary, in the desert.
3:3. And he came into all the country about the Jordan, preaching the
baptism of penance for the remission of sins.
3:4. As it was written in the book of the sayings of Isaias the
prophet:  A voice of one crying in the wilderness:  Prepare ye the way of
the Lord, make straight his paths.
3:5. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be
brought low:  and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways
3:6. And all flesh shall see the salvation of God.
3:7. He said therefore to the multitudes that went forth to be baptized
by him:  Ye offspring of vipers, who hath shewed you to flee from the
wrath to come?
3:8. Bring forth therefore fruits worthy of penance:  and do not begin
to say, We have Abraham for our father.  For I say unto you that God is
able of these stones, to raise up children to Abraham.
3:9. For now the axe is laid to the root of the trees.  Every tree
therefore that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be cut down and cast
into the fire.
3:10. And the people asked him, saying:  What then shall we do?
3:11. And he answering, said to them:  He that hath two coats, let him
give to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do in like
3:12. And the publicans also came to be baptized and said to him:
Master, what shall we do?
3:13. But he said to them:  Do nothing more than that which is appointed
3:14. And the soldiers also asked him, saying:  And what shall we do?
And he said to them:  Do violence to no man, neither calumniate any man;
and be content with your pay.
3:15. And as the people were of opinion, and all were thinking in their
hearts of John, that perhaps he might be the Christ:
3:16. John answered, saying unto all:  I indeed baptize you with water:
but there shall come one mightier than I, the latchet of whose shoes I
am not worthy to loose.  He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and
3:17. Whose fan is in his hand:  and he will purge his floor and will
gather the wheat into his barn:  but the chaff he will burn with
unquenchable fire.
3:18. And many other things exhorting did he preach to the people.
3:19. But Herod the tetrarch, when he was reproved by him for Herodias,
his brother's wife, and for all the evils which Herod had done:
3:20. He added this also above all and shut up John in prison.
3:21. Now it came to pass, when all the people were baptized, that
Jesus also being baptized and praying, heaven was opened.
3:22. And the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape, as a dove, upon
him.  And a voice came from heaven:  Thou art my beloved Son.  In thee I
am well pleased.
3:23. And Jesus himself was beginning about the age of thirty years:
being (as it was supposed) the son of Joseph, who was of Heli, who was
Who was of Heli. . .St. Joseph, who by nature was the son of Jacob, (St.
Matt. 1. 16,) in the account of the law, was son of Heli.  For Heli and
Jacob were brothers, by the same mother; and Heli, who was the elder,
dying without issue, Jacob, as the law directed, married his widow:  in
consequence of such marriage, his son Joseph was reputed in the law the
son of Heli.
3:24. Who was of Levi, who was of Melchi.  who was of Janne, who was of
3:25. Who was of Mathathias, who was of Amos, who was of Nahum, who was
of Hesli, who was of Nagge,
3:26. Who was of Mahath, who was of Mathathias, who was of Semei, who
was of Joseph, who was of Juda,
3:27. Who was of Joanna, who was of Reza, who was of Zorobabel, who was
of Salathiel, who was of Neri,
3:28. Who was of Melchi, who was of Addi, who was of Cosan, who was of
Helmadan, who was of Her,
3:29. Who was of Jesus, who was of Eliezer, who was of Jorim, who was
of Mathat, who was of Levi,
3:30. Who was of Simeon, who was of Judas, who was of Joseph, who was
of Jona, who was of Eliakim,
3:31. Who was of Melea, who was of Menna, who was of Mathatha, who was
of Nathan, who was of David,
3:32. Who was of Jesse, who was of Obed, who was of Booz, who was of
Salmon, who was of Naasson,
3:33. Who was of Aminadab, who was of Aram, who was of Esron, who was
of Phares, who was of Judas,
3:34. Who was of Jacob, who was of Isaac, who was of Abraham, who was
of Thare, who was of Nachor,
3:35. Who was of Sarug, who was of Ragau, who was of Phaleg, who was of
Heber, who was of Sale,
3:36. Who was of Cainan, who was of Arphaxad, who was of Sem, who was
Of Noe, who was of Lamech,
3:37. Who was of Mathusale, who was of Henoch, who was of Jared, who
was of Malaleel, who was of Cainan,
3:38. Who was of Henos, who was of Seth, who was of Adam, who was of
Luke Chapter 4
Christ's fasting and temptation.  He is persecuted in Nazareth.  His
miracles in Capharnaum.
4:1. And Jesus being full of the Holy Ghost, returned from the Jordan
and was led the by the spirit into the desert,
4:2. For the space of forty days, and was tempted by the devil.  And he
ate nothing in those days.  And when they were ended, he was hungry.
4:3. And the devil said to him:  If thou be the Son of God, say to this
stone that it be made bread.
4:4. And Jesus answered him:  is written that Man liveth not by bread
alone, but by every word of God.
4:5. And the devil led him into a high mountain and shewed him all the
kingdoms of the world in a moment of time.
4:6. And he said to him:  To thee will I give all this power and the
glory of them.  For to me they are delivered:  and to whom I will, I give
4:7. If thou therefore wilt adore before me, all shall be thine.
4:8. And Jesus answering said to him.  It is written:  Thou shalt adore
the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.
4:9. And he brought him to Jerusalem and set him on a pinnacle of the
temple and said to him:  If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself from
4:10. For it is written that He hath given his angels charge over thee
that they keep thee.
4:11. And that in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest perhaps
thou dash thy foot against a stone.
4:12. And Jesus answering, said to him:  It is said:  Thou shalt not
tempt the Lord thy God.
4:13. And all the temptation being ended, the devil departed from him
4:14. And Jesus returned in the power of the spirit, into Galilee:  and
the fame of him went out through the whole country.
4:15. And he taught in their synagogues and was magnified by all.
4:16. And he came to Nazareth, where he was brought up:  and he went
into the synagogue, according to his custom, on the sabbath day:  and he
rose up to read.
4:17. And the book of Isaias the prophet was delivered unto him.  And as
he unfolded the book, he found the place where it was written:
4:18. The spirit of the Lord is upon me.  Wherefore he hath anointed me
to preach the gospel to the poor, he hath sent me to heal the contrite
4:19. To preach deliverance to the captives and sight to the blind, to
set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of
the Lord and the day of reward.
4:20. And when he had folded the book, he restored it to the minister
and sat down.  And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him.
4:21. And he began to say to them:  This day is fulfilled this scripture
in your ears.
4:22. And all gave testimony to him.  And they wondered at the words of
grace that proceeded from his mouth.  And they said:  Is not this the son
4:23. And he said to them:  Doubtless you will say to me this
similitude:  Physician, heal thyself.  As great things as we have heard
done in Capharnaum, do also here in thy own country.
4:24. And he said:  Amen I say to you that no prophet is accepted in his
own country.
4:25. In truth I say to You, there were many widows in the days of
Elias in Israel, when heaven was shut up three years and six months,
when there was a great famine throughout all the earth.
4:26. And to none of them was Elias sent, but to Sarepta of Sidon, to a
widow woman.
4:27. And there were many lepers in Israel in the time of Eliseus the
prophet:  and none of them was cleansed but Naaman the Syrian.
4:28. And all they in the synagogue, hearing these things, were filled
4:29. And they rose up and thrust him out of the city:  and they brought
him to the brow of the hill whereon their city was built, that they
might cast him down headlong.
4:30. But he passing through the midst of them, went his way.
4:31. And he went down into Capharnaum, a city of Galilee:  and there he
taught them on the sabbath days.
4:32. And they were astonished at his doctrine:  for his speech was with
4:33. And in the synagogue there was a man who had an unclean devil:
and he cried out with a loud voice,
4:34. Saying:  Let us alone.  What have we to do with thee, Jesus of
Nazareth?  Art thou come to destroy us?  I know thee who thou art, the
holy one of God.
4:35. And Jesus rebuked him, saying:  Hold thy peace and go out of him.
And when the devil had thrown him into the midst, he went out of him
and hurt him not at all.
4:36. And there came fear upon all; and they talked among themselves,
saying:  What word is this, for with authority and power he commandeth
the unclean spirits, and they go out?
4:37. And the fame of him was published into every place of the
4:38. And Jesus rising up out of the synagogue, went into Simon's
house.  And Simon's wife's mother was taken with a great fever:  and they
besought him for her.
4:39. And standing over her, he commanded the fever:  and it left her.
And immediately rising, she ministered to them.
4:40. And when the sun was down, all they that had any sick with divers
diseases brought them to him.  But he, laying his hands on every one of
them, healed them.
4:41. And devils went out from many, crying out and saying:  Thou art
the son of God.  And rebuking them he suffered them not to speak; for
they knew that he was Christ.
4:42. And when it was day, going out he went into a desert place:  and
the multitudes sought him, and came unto him.  And they stayed him that
should not depart from them.
4:43. To whom he said:  To other cities also I must preach the kingdom
of God:  for therefore am I sent.
4:44. And he was preaching in the synagogues of Galilee.
Luke Chapter 5
The miraculous draught of fishes.  The cure of the leper and of the
paralytic.  The call of Matthew.
5:1. And it came to pass, that when the multitudes pressed upon him to
hear the word of God, he stood by the lake of Genesareth,
5:2. And saw two ships standing by the lake:  but the fishermen were
gone out of them and were washing their nets.
5:3. And going into one of the ships that was Simon's, he desired him
to draw back a little from the land.  And sitting, he taught the
multitudes out of the ship.
5:4. Now when he had ceased to speak, he said to Simon:  Launch out into
the deep and let down your nets for a draught.
5:5. And Simon answering said to him:  Master, we have laboured all the
night and have taken nothing:  but at thy word I will let down the net.
5:6. And when they had done this, they enclosed a very great multitude
of fishes:  and their net broke.
5:7. And they beckoned to their partners that were in the other ship,
that they should come and help them.  And they came and filled both the
ships, so that they were almost sinking.
5:8. Which when Simon Peter saw, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying:
Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.
5:9. For he was wholly astonished, and all that were with him, at the
draught of the fishes which they had taken.
5:10. And so were also James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were
Simon's partners.  And Jesus saith to Simon:  Fear not:  from henceforth
thou shalt catch men.
5:11. And having brought their ships to land, leaving all things, they
followed him.
5:12. And it came to pass, when he was in a certain city, behold a man
full of leprosy who, seeing Jesus and falling on his face, besought him
saying:  Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.
5:13. And stretching forth his hand, he touched him, saying:  I will.  Be
thou cleansed.  And immediately the leprosy departed from him.
5:14. And he charged him that he should tell no man, but:  Go, shew
thyself to the priest and offer for thy cleansing according as Moses
commanded, for a testimony to them.
5:15. But the fame of him went abroad the more:  and great multitudes
came together to hear and to be healed by him of their infirmities.
5:16. And he retired into the desert; and prayed.
5:17. And it came to pass on a certain day, as he sat teaching, that
there were also Pharisees and doctors of the law sitting by, that were
come out of every town of Galilee and Judea and Jerusalem:  and the
power of the Lord was to heal them.
5:18. And behold, men brought in a bed a man who had the palsy:  and
they sought means to bring him in and to lay him before him.
5:19. And when they could not find by what way they might bring him in,
because of the multitude, they went up upon the roof and let him down
through the tiles with his bed into the midst before Jesus.
5:20. Whose faith when he saw, he said:  Man, thy sins are forgiven
5:21. And the scribes and Pharisees began to think, saying:  Who is this
who speaketh blasphemies?  Who can forgive sins, but God alone?
5:22. And when Jesus knew their thoughts, answering he said to them:
What is it you think in your hearts?
5:23. Which is easier to say:  Thy sins are forgiven thee; or to say:
Arise and walk?
5:24. But that you may know that the Son of man hath the power on earth
to forgive sins (he saith to the sick of the palsy), I say to thee to:
Arise, take up thy bed and go into thy house.
5:25. And immediately rising up before them, he took up the bed on
which he lay:  and he went away to his own house, glorifying God.
5:26. And all were astonished:  and they glorified God.  And they were
filled with fear, saying:  We have seen wonderful things to-day.
5:27. And after these things, he went forth and saw a publican named
Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom:  and he said to him:  Follow me.
5:28. And leaving all things, he rose up and followed him.
5:29. And Levi made him a great feast in his own house:  And there was a
great company of publicans and of others that were at table with them.
5:30. But the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying to his disciples:
Why do you eat and drink with publicans and sinners?
5:31. And Jesus answering, said to them:  They that are whole need not
the physician:  but they that are sick.
5:32. I came not to call the just, but sinners to penance.
5:33. And they said to him:  Why do the disciples of John fast often and
make prayers, and the disciples of the Pharisees in like manner; but
thine eat and drink?
5:34. To whom he said:  Can you make the children of the bridegroom fast
whilst the bridegroom is with them?
5:35. But the days will come when the bridegroom shall be taken away
from them:  then shall they fast in those days.
5:36. And he spoke also a similitude to them:  That no man putteth a
piece from a new garment upon an old garment:  otherwise he both rendeth
the new, and the piece taken from the new agreeth not with the old.
5:37. And no man putteth new wine into old bottles:  otherwise the new
wine will break the bottles; and it will be spilled and the bottles
will be lost.
5:38. But new wine must be put into new bottles:  and both are
5:39. And no man drinking old hath presently a mind to new:  for he
saith:  The old is better.
Luke Chapter 6
Christ excuses his disciples.  He cures upon the sabbath day, chooses
the twelve and makes a sermon to them.
6:1. And it came to pass on the second first sabbath that, as he went
through the corn fields, his disciples plucked the ears and did eat,
rubbing them in their hands.
The second first sabbath. . .Some understand this of the sabbath of
Pentecost, which was the second in course among the great feasts:
others, of a sabbath day that immediately followed any solemn feast.
6:2. And some of the Pharisees said to them:  Why do you that which is
not lawful on the sabbath days?
6:3. And Jesus answering them, said:  Have you not read so much as this,
what David did, when himself was hungry and they that were with him:
6:4. How he went into the house of God and took and ate the bread of
proposition and gave to them that were with him, which is not lawful to
eat but only for the priests?
6:5. And he said to them:  The Son of man is Lord also of the sabbath.
6:6. And it came to pass also, on another sabbath, that he entered into
the synagogue and taught.  And there was a man whose right hand was
6:7. And the scribes and Pharisees watched if he would heal on the
sabbath:  that they might find an accusation against him.
6:8. But he knew their thoughts and said to the man who had the
withered hand:  Arise and stand forth in the midst.  And rising he stood
6:9. Then Jesus said to them:  I ask you, if it be lawful on the sabbath
days to do good or to do evil?  To save life or to destroy?
6:10. And looking round about on them all, he said to the man:  Stretch
forth thy hand.  And he stretched it forth.  And his hand was restored.
6:11. And they were filled with madness:  and they talked one with
another, what they might do to Jesus.
6:12. And it came to pass in those days, that he went out into a
mountain to pray:  and he passed the whole night in the prayer of God.
6:13. And when day was come, he called unto him his disciples:  and he
chose twelve of them (whom also he named apostles):
6:14. Simon, whom he surnamed Peter, and Andrew his brother, James and
John, Philip and Bartholomew,
6:15. Matthew and Thomas, James the son of Alpheus, and Simon who is
called Zelotes,
6:16. And Jude the brother of James, and Judas Iscariot, who was the
6:17. And coming down with them, he stood in a plain place:  and the
company of his disciples and a very great multitude of people from all
Judea and Jerusalem and the sea coast, both of Tyre and Sidon,
6:18. Who were come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases.  And
they that were troubled with unclean spirits were cured.
6:19. And all the multitude sought to touch him:  for virtue went out
from him and healed all.
6:20. And he, lifting up his eyes on his disciples, said:  Blessed are
ye poor:  for yours is the kingdom of God.
6:21. Blessed are ye that hunger now:  for you shall be filled.  Blessed
are ye that weep now:  for you shall laugh.
6:22. Blessed shall you be when men shall hate you, and when they shall
separate you and shall reproach you and cast out your name as evil, for
the Son of man's sake.
6:23. Be glad in that day and rejoice:  for behold, your reward is great
in heaven, For according to these things did their fathers to the
6:24. But woe to you that are rich:  for you have your consolation.
6:25. Woe to you that are filled:  for you shall hunger.  Woe to you that
now laugh:  for you shall mourn and weep.
6:26. Woe to you when men shall bless you:  for according to these
things did their fathers to the false prophets.
6:27. But I say to you that hear:  Love your enemies.  Do good to them
that hate you.
6:28. Bless them that curse you and pray for them that calumniate you.
6:29. And to him that striketh thee on the one cheek, offer also the
other.  And him that taketh away from thee thy cloak, forbid not to take
thy coat also.
6:30. Give to every one that asketh thee:  and of him that taketh away
thy goods, ask them not again.
6:31. And as you would that men should do to you, do you also to them
in like manner.
6:32. And if you love them that love you, what thanks are to you?  For
sinners also love those that love them.
6:33. And if you do good to them who do good to you, what thanks are to
you?  For sinners also do this.
6:34. And if you lend to them of whom you hope to receive, what thanks
are to you?  For sinners also lend to sinners, for to receive as much.
6:35. But love ye your enemies:  do good, and lend, hoping for nothing
thereby:  and your reward shall be great, and you shall be the sons of
the Highest.  For he is kind to the unthankful and to the evil.
6:36. Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.
6:37. Judge not:  and you shall not be judged.  Condemn not:  and you
shall not be condemned.  Forgive:  and you shall be forgiven.
6:38. Give:  and it shall be given to you:  good measure and pressed down
and shaken together and running over shall they give into your bosom.
For with the same measure that you shall mete withal, it shall be
measured to you again.
6:39. And he spoke also to them a similitude:  Can the blind lead the
blind?  Do they not both fall into the ditch?
6:40. The disciple is not above his master:  but every one shall be
perfect, if he be as his master.
6:41. And why seest thou the mote in thy brother's eye:  but the beam
that is in thy own eye thou considerest not?
6:42. Or how canst thou say to thy brother:  Brother, let me pull the
mote out of thy eye, when thou thyself seest not the beam in thy own
eye?  Hypocrite, cast first the beam out of thy own eye:  and then shalt
thou see clearly to take out the mote from thy brother's eye.
6:43. For there is no good tree that bringeth forth evil fruit:  nor an
evil tree that bringeth forth good fruit.
6:44. For every tree is known by its fruit.  For men do not gather figs
from thorns:  nor from a bramble bush do they gather the grape.
6:45. A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth
that which is good:  and an evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth
forth that which is evil.  For out of the abundance of the heart the
mouth speaketh.
6:46. And why call you me, Lord, Lord; and do not the things which I
6:47. Every one that cometh to me and heareth my words and doth them, I
will shew you to whom he is like.
6:48. He is like to a man building a house, who digged deep and laid
the foundation upon a rock.  And when a flood came, the stream beat
vehemently upon that house:  and it could not shake it:  for it was
founded on a rock.
6:49. But he that heareth and doth not is like to a man building his
house upon the earth without a foundation:  against which the stream
beat vehemently.  And immediately it fell:  and the ruin of that house
Luke Chapter 7
Christ heals the centurion's servant.  He raises the widow's son to
life, answers the messengers sent by John and absolves the penitent
7:1. And when he had finished all his words in the hearing of the
people, he entered into Capharnaum.
7:2. And the servant of a certain centurion who was dear to him, being
sick, was ready to die.
7:3. And when he had heard of Jesus, he sent unto him the ancients of
the Jews, desiring him to come and heal his servant.
7:4. And when they came to Jesus, they besought him earnestly, saying
to him:  He is worthy that thou shouldest do this for him.
7:5. For he loveth our nation:  and he hath built us a synagogue.
7:6. And Jesus went with them.  And when he was now not far from the
house, the centurion sent his friends to him, saying:  Lord, trouble not
thyself; for I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof.
7:7. For which cause neither did I think myself worthy to come to thee:
but say the word, and my servant shall be healed.
7:8. For I also am a man subject to authority, having under me
soldiers:  and I say to one, Go, and he goeth:  and to another, Come, and
he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doth it.
7:9. Which Jesus hearing, marvelled:  and turning about to the multitude
that followed him, he said:  Amen I say to you, I have not found so
great faith, not even in Israel.
7:10. And they who were sent, being returned to the house, found the
servant whole who had been sick.
7:11. And it came to pass afterwards that he went into a city that is
called Naim:  and there went with him his disciples and a great
7:12. And when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold a dead man
was carried out, the only son of his mother:  and she was a widow.  And a
great multitude of the city was with her.
7:13. Whom when the Lord had seen, being moved with mercy towards her,
he said to her:  Weep not.
7:14. And he came near and touched the bier.  And they that carried it
stood still.  And he said:  Young man, I say to thee, arise.
7:15. And he that was dead sat up and begun to speak.  And he gave him
to his mother.
7:16. And there came a fear upon them all:  and they glorified God
saying:  A great prophet is risen up among us:  and, God hath visited his
7:17. And this rumour of him went forth throughout all Judea and
throughout all the country round about.
7:18. And John's disciples told him of all these things.
7:19. And John called to him two of his disciples and sent them to
Jesus, saying:  Art thou he that art to come?  Or look we for another?
7:20. And when the men were come unto him, they said:  John the Baptist
hath sent us to thee, saying:  Art thou he that art to come?  Or look we
for another?
7:21. (And in that same hour, he cured many of their diseases and hurts
and evil spirits:  and to many that were blind he gave sight.)
7:22. And answering, he said to them:  Go and relate to John what you
have heard and seen:  the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are made
clean, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, to the poor the gospel is
7:23. And blessed is he whosoever shall not be scandalized in me.
7:24. And when the messengers of John were departed, he began to speak
to the multitudes concerning John.  What went ye out into the desert to
see?  A reed shaken with the wind?
7:25. But what went you out to see?  A man clothed in soft garments?
Behold they that are in costly apparel and live delicately are in the
houses of kings.
7:26. But what went you out to see?  A prophet?  Yea, I say to you, and
more than a prophet.
7:27. This is he of whom it is written:  Behold I send my angel before
thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee.
7:28. For I say to you:  Amongst those that are born of men, there is
not a greater prophet than John the Baptist.  But he that is the lesser
in the kingdom of God is greater than he.
7:29. And all the people hearing, and the publicans, justified God,
being baptized with John's baptism.
Justified God. . .that is, praised the justice of God, feared and
worshipped God, as just and merciful.
7:30. But the Pharisees and the lawyers despised the counsel of God
against themselves, being not baptized by him.
7:31. And the Lord said:  Whereunto then shall I liken the men of this
generation?  And to what are they like?
7:32. They are like to children sitting in the marketplace and speaking
one to another and saying:  We have piped to you, and you have not
danced:  we have mourned, and you have not wept.
7:33. For John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine.
And you say:  He hath a devil.
7:34. The Son of man is come eating and drinking.  And you say:  Behold a
man that is a glutton and a drinker of wine, a friend of publicans and
7:35. And wisdom is justified by all her children.
7:36. And one of the Pharisees desired him to eat with him.  And he went
into the house of the Pharisee and sat down to meat.
One of the Pharisees:  that is, Simon.
7:37. And behold a woman that was in the city, a sinner, when she knew
that he sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box
of ointment.
7:38. And standing behind at his feet.  she began to wash his feet with
tears and wiped them with the hairs of her head and kissed his feet and
anointed them with the ointment.
7:39. And the Pharisee, who had invited him, seeing it, spoke within
himself, saying:  This man, if he were if a prophet, would know surely
who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him, that she is a
7:40. And Jesus answering, said to him:  Simon, I have somewhat to say
to thee.  But he said:  Master, say it.
7:41. A certain creditor had two debtors:  the one owed five hundred
pence and the other fifty.
7:42. And whereas they had not wherewith to pay, he forgave them both.
Which therefore of the two loveth him most?
7:43. Simon answering, said:  I suppose that he to whom he forgave most.
And he said to him:  Thou hast judged rightly.
7:44. And turning to the woman, he said unto Simon:  Dost thou see this
woman?  I entered into thy house:  thou gavest me no water for my feet.
But she with tears hath washed my feet; and with her hairs hath wiped
7:45. Thou gavest me no kiss.  But she, since she cane in, hath not
ceased to kiss my feet.
7:46. My head with oil thou didst not anoint.  But she with ointment
hath anointed my feet.
7:47. Wherefore, I say to thee:  Many sins are forgiven her, because she
hath loved much.  But to whom less is forgiven, he loveth less.
Many sins are forgiven her, because she hath loved much. . .In the
scripture an effect sometimes seems attributed to one only cause, when
there are divers other concurring dispositions; for the sins of this
woman, in this verse, are said to be forgiven, because she loved much:
but (ver. 50) Christ tells her, Thy faith hath made thee safe.  Hence in
a true conversion are joined faith, hope, love, sorrow for sin, and
other pious dispositions.
7:48. And he said to her:  Thy sins are forgiven thee.
7:49. And they that sat at meat with him began to say within
themselves:  Who is this that forgiveth sins also?
7:50. And he said to the woman:  Thy faith hath made thee safe.  Go in
Luke Chapter 8
The parable of the seed.  Christ stills the storm at sea, casts out the
legion, heals the issue of blood and raises the daughter of Jairus to
8:1. And it came to pass afterwards he travelled through the cities and
towns, preaching and evangelizing the kingdom of God:  and the twelve
8:2. And certain women who had been healed of evil spirits and
infirmities:  Mary who is called Magdalen, out of whom seven devils were
8:3. And Joanna the wife of Chusa, Herod's steward, and Susanna and
many others who ministered unto him of their substance.
8:4. And when a very great multitude was gathered together and hastened
out of the cities, unto him, he spoke by a similitude.
8:5. The sower went out to sow his seed.  And as he sowed, some fell by
the way side.  And it was trodden down:  and the fowls of the air
devoured it.
8:6. And other some fell upon a rock.  And as soon as it was sprung up,
it withered away, because it had no moisture.
8:7. And other some fell among thorns.  And the thorns growing up with
it, choked it.
8:8. And other some fell upon good ground and, being sprung up, yielded
fruit a hundredfold.  Saying these things, he cried out:  He that hath
ears to hear, let him hear.
8:9. And his disciples asked him what this parable might be.
8:10. To whom he said:  To you it is given to know the mystery of the
kingdom of God; but to the rest in parables, that seeing they may not
see and hearing may not understand.
Seeing they may not see. . .See the annotation, Mark 4. 12.
8:11. Now the parable is this:  The seed is the word of God.
8:12. And they by the way side are they that hear:  then the devil
cometh and taketh the word out of their heart, lest believing they
should be saved.
8:13. Now they upon the rock are they who when they hear receive the
word with joy:  and these have no roots:  for they believe for a while
and in time of temptation they fall away.
8:14. And that which fell among thorns are they who have heard and,
going their way, are choked with the cares and riches and pleasures of
this life and yield no fruit.
8:15. But that on the good ground are they who in a good and perfect
heart, hearing the word, keep it and bring forth fruit in patience.
8:16. Now no man lighting a candle covereth it with a vessel or putteth
it under a bed:  but setteth it upon a candlestick, that they who come
in may see the light.
8:17. For there is not any thing secret that shall not be made
manifest, nor hidden that shall not be known and come abroad.
8:18. Take heed therefore how you hear.  For whosoever hath, to him
shall be given:  and whosoever hath not, that also which he thinketh he
hath shall be taken away from him.
8:19. And his mother and brethren came unto him:  and they could not
come at him for the crowd.
8:20. And it was told him:  Thy mother and thy brethren stand without,
desiring to see thee.
8:21. Who answering, said to them:  My mother and my brethren are they
who hear the word of God and do it.
8:22. And it came to pass on a certain day that he went into a little
ship with his disciples.  And he said to them:  Let us go over to the
other side of the lake.  And they launched forth.
8:23. And when they were sailing, he slept.  And there came down a storm
of wind upon the lake:  and they were filled and were in danger.
8:24. And they came and awaked him, saying:  Master, we perish.  But he
arising, rebuked the wind and the rage of the water.  And it ceased:  and
there was a calm.
8:25. And he said to them:  Where is your faith?  Who being afraid,
wondered, saying one to another:  Who is this (think you), that he
commandeth both the winds and the sea:  and they obey him?
8:26. And they sailed to the country of the Gerasens, which is over
against Galilee.
8:27. And when he was come forth to the land, there met him a certain
man who had a devil now a very long time.  And he wore no clothes:
neither did he abide in a house, but in the sepulchres.
8:28. And when he saw Jesus, he fell down before him.  And crying out
with a loud voice, he said:  What have I to do with thee, Jesus, Son of
the most high God?  I beseech thee, do not torment me.
8:29. For he commanded the unclean spirit to go out of the man.  For
many times it seized him:  and he was bound with chains and kept in
fetters:  and breaking the bonds, he was driven by the devil into the
8:30. And Jesus asked him, saying:  What is thy name?  But he said:
Legion.  Because many devils were entered into him.
8:31. And they besought him that he would not command them to go into
8:32. And there was there a herd of many swine feeding on the mountain:
and they besought him that he would suffer them to enter into them.  And
he suffered them.
8:33. The devils therefore went out of the man and entered into the
swine.  And the herd ran violently down a steep place into the lake and
were stifled.
8:34. Which when they that fed them saw done, they fled away and told
it in the city and in the villages.
8:35. And they went out to see what was done.  And they came to Jesus
and found the man out of whom the devils were departed, sitting at his
feet, clothed and in his right mind.  And they were afraid.
8:36. And they also that had seen told them how he had been healed from
8:37. And all the multitude of the country of the Gerasens besought him
to depart from them:  for they were taken with great fear.  And he, going
up into the ship, returned back again.
8:38. Now the man out of whom the devils were departed besought him
that he might be with him.  But Jesus sent him away, saying:
8:39. Return to thy house and tell how great things God hath done to
thee.  And he went through the whole city, publishing how great things
Jesus had done to him.
8:40. And it came to pass that when Jesus was returned, the multitude
received him:  for they were all waiting for him.
8:41. And behold there came a man whose name was Jairus:  and he was a
ruler of the synagogue.  And he fell down at the feet of Jesus,
beseeching him that he would come into his house:
8:42. For he had an only daughter, almost twelve years old, and she was
dying.  And it happened as he went that he was thronged by the
8:43. And there was a certain woman having an issue of blood twelve
years, who had bestowed all her substance on physicians and could not
be healed by any.
8:44. She came behind him and touched the hem of his garment:  and
immediately the issue of her blood stopped.
8:45. And Jesus said:  Who is it that touched me?  And all denying, Peter
and they that were with him said:  Master, the multitudes throng and
press thee; and dost thou say, who touched me?
8:46. And Jesus said:  Somebody hath touched me; for I know that virtue
is gone out from me.
8:47. And the woman seeing that she was not hid, came trembling and
fell down before his feet and declared before all the people for what
cause she had touched him, and how she was immediately healed.
8:48. But he said to her:  Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole.  Go
thy way in peace.
8:49. As he was yet speaking, there cometh one to the ruler of the
synagogue, saying to him:  Thy daughter is dead:  trouble him not.
8:50. And Jesus hearing this word, answered the father of the maid:
Fear not.  Believe only:  and she shall be safe.
8:51. And when he was come to the house, he suffered not any man to go
in with him, but Peter and James and John, and the father and mother of
8:52. And all wept and mourned for her.  But he said:  Weep not.  The
maid is not dead, but sleepeth.
8:53. And they laughed him to scorn, knowing that she was dead.
8:54. But he taking her by the hand, cried out, saying:  Maid, arise.
8:55. And her spirit returned:  and she arose immediately.  And he bid
them give her to eat.
8:56. And her parents were astonished, whom he charged to tell no man
what was done.
Luke Chapter 9
Christ sends forth his apostles, feeds five thousand with five loaves,
is transfigured and casts out a devil.
9:1. Then calling together the twelve apostles, he gave them power and
authority over all devils and to cure diseases.
9:2. And he sent them to preach the kingdom of God and to heal the
9:3. And he said to them:  Take nothing for your journey, neither staff,
nor scrip, nor bread, nor money; neither have two coats.
9:4. And whatsoever house you shall enter into, abide there and depart
not from thence.
9:5. And whosoever will not receive you, when ye go out of that city,
shake off even the dust of your feet, for a testimony against them.
9:6. And going out, they went about through the towns, preaching the
gospel and healing every where.
9:7. Now Herod, the tetrarch, heard of all things that were done by
him.  And he was in a doubt, because it was said
9:8. By some that John was risen from the dead:  but by other some, that
Elias had appeared:  and by others, that one of the old prophets was
risen again.
9:9. And Herod said:  John I have beheaded.  But who is this of whom I
hear such things?  And he sought to see him.
9:10. And the apostles, when they were returned, told him all they had
done.  And taking them, he went aside into a desert place, apart, which
belongeth to Bethsaida.
9:11. Which when the people knew, they followed him:  and he received
them and spoke to them of the kingdom of God and healed them who had
need of healing.
9:12. Now the day began to decline.  And the twelve came and said to
him:  Send away the multitude, that, going into the towns and villages
round about, they may lodge and get victuals; for we are here in a
desert place.
9:13. But he said to them:  Give you them to eat.  And they said:  We
have no more than five loaves and two fishes; unless perhaps, we should
go and buy food for all this multitude.
9:14. Now there were about five thousand men.  And he said to his
disciples:  Make them sit down by fifties in a company.
9:15. And they did so and made them all sit down.
9:16. And taking the five loaves and the two fishes, he looked up to
heaven and blessed them:  and he broke and distributed to his disciples,
to set before the multitude.
9:17. And they did all eat and were filled.  And there were taken up of
fragments that remained to them, twelve baskets.
9:18. And it came to pass, as he was alone praying, his disciples also
were with him:  and he asked them, saying:  Whom do the people say that I
9:19. But they answered and said:  John the Baptist; but some say Elias:
and others say that one of the former prophets is risen again.
9:20. And he said to them:  But whom do you say that I am?  Simon Peter
answering, said:  The Christ of God.
9:21. But he strictly charging them, commanded they should tell this to
9:22. Saying:  The Son of man must suffer many things and be rejected by
the ancients and chief priests and scribes and be killed and the third
day rise again.
9:23. And he said to all:  If any man will come after me, let him deny
himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.
9:24. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it:  for he that shall
lose his life for my sake shall save it.
9:25. For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world and lose
himself and cast away himself?
9:26. For he that shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him the
Son of man shall be ashamed, when he shall come in his majesty and that
of his Father and of the holy angels.
9:27. But I tell you of a truth:  There are some standing here that
shall not taste death till they see the kingdom of God.
9:28. And it came to pass, about eight days after these words, that he
took Peter and James and John and went up into a mountain to pray.
9:29. And whilst he prayed, the shape of his countenance was altered
and his raiment became white and glittering.
9:30. And behold two men were talking with him.  And they were Moses and
9:31. Appearing in majesty.  And they spoke of his decease that he
should accomplish in Jerusalem.
9:32. But Peter and they that were with him were heavy with sleep.  And
waking, they saw his glory and the two men that stood with him.
9:33. And it came to pass that, as they were departing from him, Peter
saith to Jesus:  Master, it is good for us to be here:  and let us make
three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses; and one for Elias:
not knowing what he said.
9:34. And as he spoke these things, there came a cloud and overshadowed
them.  And they were afraid when they entered into the cloud.
9:35. And a voice came out of the cloud; saying:  This is my beloved
son.  Hear him.
9:36. And whilst the voice was uttered Jesus was found alone.  And they
held their peace and told no man in those days any of these things
which they had seen.
9:37. And it came to pass the day following, when they came down from
the mountain, there met him a great multitude.
9:38. And behold a man among the crowd cried out, saying:  Master, I
beseech thee, look upon my son, because he is my only one.
9:39. And lo, a spirit seizeth him, and he suddenly crieth out, and he
throweth him down and teareth him, so that he foameth; and bruising
him, he hardly departeth from him.
9:40. And I desired thy disciples to cast him out:  and they could not.
9:41. And Jesus, answering:, said:  O faithless and perverse generation,
how long shall I be with you and suffer you?  Bring hither thy son.
9:42. And as he was coming to him, the devil threw him down and tore
9:43. And Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit and cured the boy and
restored him to his father.
9:44. And all were astonished at the mighty power of God.  But while all
wondered at all the things he did, he said to his disciples:  Lay you up
in your hearts these words, for it shall come to pass that the Son of
man shall be delivered into the hands of men.
9:45. But they understood not this word:  and it was hid from them, so
that they perceived it not.  And they were afraid to ask him concerning
9:46. And there entered a thought into them, which of them should be
9:47. But Jesus seeing the thoughts of their hearts, took a child and
set him by him,
9:48. And said to them:  Whosoever shall receive this child in my name
receiveth me; and whosoever shall receive me receiveth him that sent
me.  For he that is the lesser among you all, he is the greater.
9:49. And John, answering, said:  Master, we saw a certain man casting
out devils in thy name:  and we forbade him, because he followeth not
9:50. And Jesus said to him:  Forbid him not:  for he that is not against
you is for you.
9:51. And it came to pass, when the days of his assumption were
accomplishing, that he steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem.
9:52. And he sent messengers before his face:  and going, they entered
into a city of the Samaritans, to prepare for him.
9:53. And they received him not, because his face was of one going to
9:54. And when his disciples, James and John, had seen this, they said:
Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven and
consume them?
9:55. And turning, he rebuked them, saying:  you know not of what spirit
9:56. The Son of man came not to destroy souls, but to save.  And they
went into another town.
9:57. And it came to pass, as they walked in the way, that a certain
man said to him:  I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest.
9:58. Jesus said to him:  The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air
nests:  but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.
9:59. But he said to another:  Follow me.  And he said:  Lord, suffer me
first to go and to bury my father.
9:60. And Jesus said to him:  Let the dead bury their dead:  but go thou
and preach the kingdom of God.
9:61. And another said:  I will follow thee, Lord; but let me first take
my leave of them that are at my house.
9:62. Jesus said to him:  No man putting his hand to the plough and
looking back is fit for the kingdom of God.
Luke Chapter 10
Christ sends forth and instructs his seventy-two disciples.  The good
10:1. And after these things, the Lord appointed also other
seventy-two.  And he sent them two and two before his face into every
city and place whither he himself was to come.
10:2. And he said to them:  The harvest indeed is great, but the
labourers are few.  Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest that he
send labourers into his harvest.
10:3. Go:  Behold I send you as lambs among wolves.
10:4. Carry neither purse, nor scrip, nor shoes:  and salute no man by
10:5. Into whatever house you enter, first say:  Peace be to this house.
10:6. And if the son of peace be there, your peace shall rest upon him:
but if not, it shall return to you.
10:7. And in the same house, remain, eating and drinking such things as
they have:  for the labourer is worthy of his hire.  Remove not from
house to house.
10:8. And into what city soever you enter, and they receive you, eat
such things as are set before you.
10:9. And heal the sick that are therein and say to them:  The kingdom
of God is come nigh unto you.
10:10. But into whatsoever city you enter, and they receive you not,
going forth into the streets thereof, say:
10:11. Even the very dust of your city that cleaveth to us, we wipe off
against you.  Yet know this, that the kingdom of God is at hand.
10:12. I say to you, it shall be more tolerable at that day for Sodom
than for that city.
10:13. Woe to thee, Corozain!  Woe to thee, Bethsaida!  For if in Tyre
and Sidon had been wrought the mighty works that have been wrought in
you, they would have done penance long ago, sitting in sackcloth and
10:14. But it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the
judgment than for you.
10:15. And thou, Capharnaum, which art exalted unto heaven, thou shalt
be thrust down to hell.
10:16. He that heareth you heareth me:  and he that despiseth you
despiseth me:  and he that despiseth me despiseth him that sent me.
10:17. And the seventy-two returned with joy, saying:  Lord, the devils
also are subject to us in thy name.
10:18. And he said to them:  I saw Satan like lightning falling from
10:19. Behold, I have given you power to tread upon serpents and
scorpions and upon all the power of the enemy:  and nothing shall hurt
10:20. But yet rejoice not in this, that spirits are subject unto you:
but rejoice in this, that your names are written in heaven.
10:21. In that same hour, he rejoiced in the Holy Ghost and said:  I
confess to thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast
hidden these things from the wise and prudent and hast revealed them to
little ones.  Yea, Father, for so it hath seemed good in thy sight.
He rejoiced in the Holy Ghost. . .That is, according to his humanity he
rejoiced in the Holy Ghost, and gave thanks to his eternal Father.
10:22. All things are delivered to me by my Father.  And no one knoweth
who the Son is, but the Father:  and who the Father is, but the Son and
to whom the Son will reveal him.
10:23. And turning to his disciples, he said:  Blessed are the eyes that
see the things which you see.
10:24. For I say to you that many prophets and kings have desired to
see the things that you see and have not seen them; and to hear the
things that you hear and have not heard them.
10:25. And behold a certain lawyer stood up, tempting him and saying,
Master, what must I do to possess eternal life?
10:26. But he said to him:  What is written in the law?  How readest
10:27. He answering, said:  Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy
whole heart and with thy whole soul and with all thy strength and with
all thy mind:  and thy neighbour as thyself.
10:28. And he said to him:  Thou hast answered right.  This do:  and thou
10:29. But he willing to justify himself, said to Jesus:  And who is my
10:30. And Jesus answering, said:  A certain man went down from
Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among robbers, who also stripped him and
having wounded him went away, leaving him half dead.
10:31. And it chanced, that a certain priest went down the same way:
and seeing him, passed by.
10:32. In like manner also a Levite, when he was near the place and saw
him, passed by.
10:33. But a certain Samaritan, being on his journey, came near him:
and seeing him, was moved with compassion:
10:34. And going up to him, bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and
wine:  and setting him upon his own beast, brought him to an inn and
took care of him.
10:35. And the next day he took out two pence and gave to the host and
said:  Take care of him; and whatsoever thou shalt spend over and above,
I, at my return, will repay thee.
10:36. Which of these three, in thy opinion, was neighbour to him that
fell among the robbers?
10:37. But he said:  He that shewed mercy to him.  And Jesus said to him:
Go, and do thou in like manner.
10:38. Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a
certain town:  and a certain woman named Martha received him into her
10:39. And she had a sister called Mary.  who, sitting also at the
Lord's feet, heard his word.
10:40. But Martha was busy about much serving.  Who stood and said:
Lord, hast thou no care that my sister hath left me alone to serve?
Speak to her therefore, that she help me.
10:41. And the Lord answering, said to her:  Martha, Martha, thou art
careful and art troubled about many things:
10:42. But one thing is necessary.  Mary hath chosen the best part,
which shall not be taken away from her.
Luke Chapter 11
Christ teaches his disciples to pray.  He casts out a dumb devil,
confutes the Pharisees, and pronounces woes against them for their
11:1. And it came to pass that as he was in a certain place praying,
when he ceased, one of his disciples said to him:  Lord, teach us to
pray, as John also taught his disciples.
11:2. And he said to them:  When you pray, say:  Father, hallowed be thy
name.  Thy kingdom come.
11:3. Give us this day our daily bread.
11:4. And forgive us our sins, for we also forgive every one that is
indebted to us.  And lead us not into temptation.
11:5. And he said to them:  Which of you shall have a friend and shall
go to him at midnight and shall say to him:  Friend, lend me three
11:6. Because a friend of mine is come off his journey to me and I have
not what to set before him.
11:7. And he from within should answer and say:  Trouble me not; the
door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed.  I cannot rise and
11:8. Yet if he shall continue knocking, I say to you, although he will
not rise and give him because he is his friend; yet, because of his
importunity, he will rise and give him as many as he needeth.
11:9. And I say to you:  Ask, and it shall be given you:  seek, and you
shall find:  knock, and it shall be opened to you.
11:10. For every one that asketh receiveth:  and he that seeketh
findeth:  and to him that knocketh it shall be opened:
11:11. And which of you, if he ask his father bread, will he give him a
stone?  Or a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?
11:12. Or if he shall ask an egg, will he reach him a scorpion?
11:13. If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your
children, how much more will your Father from heaven give the good
Spirit to them that ask him?
11:14. And he was casting out a devil:  and the same was dumb.  And when
he had cast out the devil, the dumb spoke:  and the multitudes, were in
admiration at it.
11:15. But some of them said:  He casteth out devils by Beelzebub, the
prince of devils.
11:16. And others tempting, asked of him a sign from heaven.
11:17. But he seeing their thoughts, said to them:  Every kingdom
divided against itself shall be brought to desolation; and house upon
house shall fall.
11:18. And if Satan also be divided against himself, how shall his
kingdom stand?  Because you say that through Beelzebub I cast out
11:19. Now if I cast out devils by Beelzebub, by whom do your children
cast them out?  Therefore, they shall be your judges.
11:20. But if I by the finger of God cast out devils, doubtless the
kingdom of God is come upon you.
11:21. When a strong man armed keepeth his court, those things are in
peace which he possesseth.
11:22. But if a stronger than he come upon him and overcome him, he
will take away all his armour wherein he trusted and will distribute
11:23. He that is not with me is against me; and he that gathereth not
with me scattereth.
11:24. When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through
places without water, seeking rest:  and not finding, he saith:  I will
return into my house whence I came out.
11:25. And when he is come, he findeth it swept and garnished.
11:26. Then he goeth and taketh with him seven other spirits more
wicked than himself:  and entering in they dwell there.  And the last
state of that man becomes worse than the first.
11:27. And it came to pass, as he spoke these things, a certain woman
from the crowd, lifting up her voice, said to him:  Blessed is the womb
that bore thee and the paps that gave thee suck.
11:28. But he said:  Yea rather, blessed are they who hear the word of
God and keep it.
11:29. And the multitudes running together, he began to say:  This
generation is a wicked generation.  It asketh a sign:  and a sign shall
not be given it, but the sign of Jonas the prophet.
11:30. For as Jonas was a sign to the Ninivites; so shall the Son of
man also be to this generation.
11:31. The queen of the south shall rise in the judgment with the men
of this generation and shall condemn them:  because she came from the
ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon.  And behold more than
Solomon here.
11:32. The men of Ninive shall rise in the judgment with this
generation and shall condemn it; Because they did penance at the
preaching of Jonas.  And behold more than Jonas here.
11:33. No man lighteth a candle and putteth it in a hidden place, nor
under a bushel:  but upon a candlestick, that they that come in may see
11:34. The light of thy body is thy eye.  If thy eye be single, thy
whole body will be lightsome:  but if it be evil, thy body also will be
11:35. Take heed therefore that the light which is in thee be not
11:36. If then thy whole body be lightsome, having no part of darkness:
the whole shall be lightsome and, as a bright lamp, shall enlighten
11:37. And as he was speaking, a certain Pharisee prayed him that he
would dine with him.  And he going in, sat down to eat.
11:38. And the Pharisee began to say, thinking within himself, why he
was not washed before dinner.
11:39. And the Lord said to him:  Now you, Pharisees, make clean the
outside of the cup and of the platter:  but your inside is full of
rapine and iniquity.
11:40. Ye fools, did not he that made that which is without make also
that which is within?
11:41. But yet that which remaineth, give alms:  and behold, all things
are clean unto you.
11:42. But woe to you, Pharisees, because you tithe mint and rue and
every herb and pass over judgment and the charity of God.  Now these
things you ought to have done, and not to leave the other undone.
11:43. Woe to you, Pharisees, because you love the uppermost seats in
the synagogues and salutations in the marketplace.
11:44. Woe to you, because you are as sepulchres that appear not:  and
men that walk over are not aware.
11:45. And one of the lawyers answering, saith to him:  Master, in
saying these things, thou reproachest us also.
11:46. But he said:  Woe to you lawyers also, because you load men with
burdens which they cannot bear and you yourselves touch not the packs
with one of your fingers.
Woe to you lawyers. . .He speaks of the doctors of the law of Moses,
commonly called the scribes.
11:47. Woe to you who build the monuments of the prophets:  and your
fathers killed them.
Woe to you who build, etc. . .Not that the building of the monuments of
the prophets was in itself blameworthy, but only the intention of these
unhappy men, who made use of this outward shew of religion and piety,
as a means to carry on their wicked designs against the prince of
11:48. Truly you bear witness that you consent to the doings of your
fathers.  For they indeed killed them:  and you build their sepulchres.
11:49. For this cause also the wisdom of God said:  I will send to them
prophets and apostles:  and some of them they will kill and persecute.
11:50. That the blood of all the prophets which was shed from the
foundation of the world may be required of this generation,
11:51. From the blood of Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, who was
slain between the altar and the temple.  Yea I say to you:  It shall be
required of this generation.
11:52. Woe to you lawyers, for you have taken away the key of
knowledge.  You yourselves have not entered in:  and those that were
entering in, you have hindered.
11:53. And as he was saying these things to them, the Pharisees and the
lawyers began violently to urge him and to oppress his mouth about many
11:54. Lying in wait for him and seeking to catch something from his
mouth, that they might accuse him.
Luke Chapter 12
Christ warns us against hypocrisy, the fear of the world and
covetousness.  He admonishes all to watch.
12:1. And when great multitudes stood about him, so that they trod one
upon another, he began to say to his disciples:  Beware ye of the leaven
of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.
12:2. For there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed:  nor
hidden that shall not be known.
12:3. For whatsoever things you have spoken in darkness shall be
published in the light:  and that which you have spoken in the ear in
the chambers shall be preached on the housetops.
12:4. And I say to you, my friends:  Be not afraid of them who kill the
body and after that have no more that they can do.
12:5. But I will shew you whom you shall fear:  Fear ye him who, after
he hath killed, hath power to cast into hell.  Yea, I say to you:  Fear
12:6. Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them
is forgotten before God?
12:7. Yea, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Fear not
therefore:  you are of more value than many sparrows.
12:8. And I say to you:  Whosoever shall confess me before men, him
shall the Son of man also confess before the angels of God.
12:9. But he that shall deny me before men shall be denied before the
angels of God.
12:10. And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of man, it shall
be forgiven him:  but to him that shall blaspheme against the Holy
Ghost, it shall not be forgiven.
12:11. And when they shall bring you into the synagogues and to
magistrates and powers, be not solicitous how or what you shall answer,
or what you shall say.
12:12. For the Holy Ghost shall teach you in the same hour what you
12:13. And one of the multitude said to him:  Master, speak to my
brother that he divide the inheritance with me.
12:14. But he said to him:  Man, who hath appointed me judge or divider
12:15. And he said to them:  Take heed and beware of all covetousness:
for a man's life doth not consist in the abundance of things which he
12:16. And he spoke a similitude to them, saying:  The land of a certain
rich man brought forth plenty of fruits.
12:17. And he thought within himself, saying:  What shall I do, because
I have no room where to bestow my fruits?
12:18. And he said:  This will I do:  I will pull down my barns and will
build greater:  and into them will I gather all things that are grown to
me and my goods.
12:19. And I will say to my soul:  Soul, thou hast much goods laid up
for many years.  Take thy rest:  eat, drink, make good cheer.
12:20. But God said to him:  Thou fool, this night do they require thy
soul of thee.  And whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?
12:21. So is he that layeth up treasure for himself and is not rich
towards God.
12:22. And he said to his disciples:  Therefore I say to you:  Be not
solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what
you shall put on.
12:23. The life is more than the meat:  and the body is more than the
12:24. Consider the ravens, for they sow not, neither do they reap,
neither have they storehouse nor barn, and God feedeth them.  How much
are you more valuable than they?
12:25. And which of you by taking thought can add to his stature one
12:26. If then ye be not able to do so much as the least thing, why are
you solicitous for the rest?
12:27. Consider the lilies, how they grow:  they labour not, neither do
they spin.  But I say to you, not even Solomon in all his glory was
clothed like one of these.
12:28. Now, if God clothe in this manner the grass that is to-day in
the field and to-morrow is cast into the oven:  how much more you, O ye
of little faith?
12:29. And seek not what you shall eat or what you shall drink:  and be
not lifted up on high.
12:30. For all these things do the nations of the world seek.  But your
Father knoweth that you have need of these things.
12:31. But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his justice:  and all
these things shall be added unto you.
12:32. Fear not, little flock, for it hath pleased your Father to give
you a kingdom.
12:33. Sell what you possess and give alms.  Make to yourselves bags
which grow not old, a treasure in heaven which faileth not:  where no
thief approacheth, nor moth corrupteth.
12:34. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
12:35. Let your loins be girt and lamps burning in your hands.
12:36. And you yourselves like to men who wait for their lord, when he
shall return from the wedding; that when he cometh and knocketh, they
may open to him immediately.
12:37. Blessed are those servants whom the Lord, when he cometh, shall
find watching.  Amen I say to you that he will gird himself and make
them sit down to meat and passing will minister unto them.
12:38. And if he shall come in the second watch or come in the third
watch and find them so, blessed are those servants.
12:39. But this know ye, that if the householder did know at what hour
the thief would come, he would surely watch and would not suffer his
house to be broken open.
12:40. Be you then also ready:  for at what hour you think not the Son
of man will come.
12:41. And Peter said to him:  Lord, dost thou speak this parable to us,
or likewise to all?
12:42. And the Lord said:  Who thinkest thou is the faithful and wise
steward, whom his lord setteth over his family, to give them their
measure of wheat in due season?
12:43. Blessed is that servant whom, when his lord shall come, he shall
find so doing.
12:44. Verily I say to you, he will set him over all that he
12:45. But if that servant shall say in his heart:  My Lord is long a
coming; and shall begin to strike the men-servants and maid-servants,
and to eat and to drink and be drunk:
12:46. The lord of that servant will come in the day that he hopeth
not, and at the hour that he knoweth not:  and shall separate him and
shall appoint him his portion with unbelievers.
12:47. And that servant, who knew the will of his lord and prepared not
himself and did not according to his will, shall be beaten with many
12:48. But he that knew not and did things worthy of stripes shall be
beaten with few stripes.  And unto whomsoever much is given, of him much
shall be required:  and to whom they have committed much, of him they
will demand the more.
12:49. I am come to cast fire on the earth.  And what will I, but that
it be kindled?
12:50. And I have a baptism wherewith I am to be baptized.  And how am I
straitened until it be accomplished?
12:51. Think ye, that I am come to give peace on earth?  I tell you, no;
but separation.
12:52. For there shall be from henceforth five in one house divided:
three against two, and two against three.
12:53. The father shall be divided against the son and the son against
his father:  the mother against the daughter and the daughter against
her mother:  the mother-in-law against the daughter-in-law and the
daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.
12:54. And he said also to the multitudes:  When you see a cloud rising
from the west, presently you say:  A shower is coming.  And so it
12:55. And when ye see the south wind blow, you say:  There will heat.
And it cometh to pass.
12:56. You hypocrites, you know how to discern the face of the heaven
and of the earth:  but how is it that you do not discern this time?
12:57. And why, even of yourselves, do you not judge that which is
12:58. And when thou goest with thy adversary to the prince, whilst
thou art in the way, endeavour to be delivered from him:  lest perhaps
he draw thee to he judge, and the judge deliver thee to the exacter,
and the exacter cast thee into prison.
12:59. I say to thee, thou shalt not go out thence until thou pay the
very last mite.
Luke Chapter 13
The necessity of penance.  The barren fig tree.  The cure of the infirm
woman.  The journey to Jerusalem.
13:1. And there were present, at that very time, some that told him of
the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.
13:2. And he answering, said to them:  Think you that these Galileans
were sinners above all the men of Galilee, because they suffered such
13:3. No, I say to you:  but unless you shall do penance, you shall all
likewise perish.
13:4. Or those eighteen upon whom the tower fell in Siloe and slew
them:  think you that they also were debtors above all the men that
dwelt in Jerusalem?
13:5. No, I say to you:  but except you do penance, you shall all
likewise perish.
13:6. He spoke also this parable:  A certain man had a fig tree planted
in his vineyard:  and he came seeking fruit on it and found none.
13:7. And he said to the dresser of the vineyard:  Behold, for these
three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree and I find none.  Cut
it down therefore.  Why cumbereth it the ground?
13:8. But he answering, said to him:  Lord, let it alone this year also,
until I dig about it and dung it.
13:9. And if happily it bear fruit:  but if not, then after that thou
shalt cut it down.
13:10. And he was teaching in their synagogue on their sabbath.
13:11. And behold there was a woman who had a spirit of infirmity
eighteen years.  And she was bowed together:  neither could she look
upwards at all.
13:12. Whom when Jesus saw, he called her unto him and said to her:
Woman, thou art delivered from thy infirmity.
13:13. And he laid his hands upon her:  and immediately she was made
straight and glorified God.
13:14. And the ruler of the synagogue being angry that Jesus had healed
on the sabbath answering, said to the multitude:  Six days there are
wherein you ought to work.  In them therefore come and be healed:  and
not on the sabbath day.
13:15. And the Lord answering him, said:  Ye hypocrites, doth not every
one of you, on the sabbath day, loose his ox or his ass from the manger
and lead them to water?
13:16. And ought not this daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound,
lo, these eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the sabbath day?
13:17. And when he said these things, all his adversaries were ashamed:
and all the people rejoiced for all the things that were gloriously
done by him.
13:18. He said therefore:  To what is the kingdom of God like, and
whereunto shall I resemble it?
13:19. It is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took and cast
into his garden:  and it grew and became a great tree, and the birds of
the air lodged in the branches thereof.
13:20. And again he said:  Whereunto shall I esteem the kingdom of God
13:21. It is like to leaven, which a woman took and hid in three
measures of meal, till the whole was leavened.
13:22. And he went through the cities and towns teaching and making his
journey to Jerusalem.
13:23. And a certain man said to him:  Lord, are they few that are
saved?  But he said to them:
13:24. Strive to enter by the narrow gate:  for many, I say to you,
shall seek to enter and shall not be able.
Shall seek, etc. . .Shall desire to be saved; but for want of taking
sufficient pains, and being thoroughly in earnest, shall not attain to
13:25. But when the master of the house shall be gone in and shall shut
the door, you shall begin to stand without; and knock at the door,
saying:  Lord, open to us.  And he answering, shall say to you:  I know
you not, whence you are.
13:26. Then you shall begin to say:  We have eaten and drunk in thy
presence:  and thou hast taught in our streets.
13:27. And he shall say to you:  I know you not, whence you are.  Depart
from me, all ye workers of iniquity.
13:28. There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth; when you shall see
Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets, in the kingdom of
God:  and you yourselves thrust out.
13:29. And there shall come from the east and the west and the north
and the south:  and shall sit down in the kingdom of God.
13:30. And behold, they are last that shall be first:  and they are
first that shall be last.
13:31. The same day, there came some of the Pharisees, saying to him:
Depart, and get thee hence, for Herod hath a mind to kill thee.
13:32. And he said to them:  Go and tell that fox:  Behold, I cast out
devils and do cures, to-day and to-morrow, and the third day I am
consummated.
13:33. Nevertheless, I must walk to-day and to-morrow and the day
following, because it cannot be that a prophet perish, out of
13:34. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killest the prophets; and stonest
them that are sent to thee, how often would I have gathered thy
children as the bird doth her brood under her wings, and thou wouldest
13:35. Behold your house shall be left to you desolate.  And I say to
you that you shall not see me till the time come when you shall say:
Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.
Luke Chapter 14
Christ heals the dropsical man.  The parable of the supper.  The
necessity of renouncing all to follow Christ.
14:1. And it came to pass, when Jesus went into the house of one of the
Pharisees, on the sabbath day, that they watched him.
14:2. And behold, there was a certain man before him that had the
14:3. And Jesus answering, spoke to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying:
Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath day?
14:4. But they held their peace.  But he taking him, healed him and sent
14:5. And answering them, he said:  Which of you shall have an ass or an
ox fall into a pit and will not immediately draw him out, on the
sabbath day?
14:6. And they could not answer him to these things.
14:7. And he spoke a parable also to them that were invited, marking
how they chose the first seats at the table, saying to them:
14:8. When thou art invited to a wedding, sit not down in the first
place, lest perhaps one more honourable than thou be invited by him:
14:9. And he that invited thee and him, come and say to thee:  Give this
man place.  And then thou begin with shame to take the lowest place.
14:10. But when thou art invited, go, sit down in the lowest place;
that when he who invited thee cometh, he may say to thee:  Friend, go up
higher.  Then shalt thou have glory before them that sit at table with
14:11. Because every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled:  and he
that humbleth himself shall be exalted.
14:12. And he said to him also that had invited him:  When thou makest a
dinner or a supper, call not thy friends nor thy brethren nor thy
kinsmen nor thy neighbours who are rich; lest perhaps they also invite
thee again, and a recompense be made to thee.
14:13. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the
lame and the blind.
14:14. And thou shalt be blessed, because they have not wherewith to
make thee recompense:  for recompense shall be made thee at the
resurrection of the just.
14:15. When one of them that sat at table with him had heard these
things, he said to him:  Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the
kingdom of God.
14:16. But he said to him:  A certain man made a great supper and
invited many.
14:17. And he sent his servant at the hour of supper to say to them
that were invited, that they should come:  for now all things are ready.
14:18. And they began all at once to make excuse.  The first said to
him:  I have bought a farm and I must needs go out and see it.  I pray
thee, hold me excused.
14:19. And another said:  I have bought five yoke of oxen and I go to
try them.  I pray thee, hold me excused.
14:20. And another said:  I have married a wife; and therefore I cannot
14:21. And the servant returning, told these things to his lord.  Then
the master of the house, being angry, said to his servant:  Go out
quickly into the streets and lanes of the city; and bring in hither the
poor and the feeble and the blind and the lame.
14:22. And the servant said:  Lord, it is done as thou hast commanded;
and yet there is room.
14:23. And the Lord said to the servant:  Go out into the highways and
hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled.
14:24. But I say unto you that none of those men that were invited
shall taste of my supper.
14:25. And there went great multitudes with him.  And turning, he said
14:26. If any man come to me, and hate not his father and mother and
wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea and his own life also,
he cannot be my disciple.
Hate not, etc. . .The law of Christ does not allow us to hate even our
enemies, much less our parents:  but the meaning of the text is, that we
must be in that disposition of soul, as to be willing to renounce, and
part with every thing, how near or dear soever it may be to us, that
would keep us from following Christ.
14:27. And whosoever doth not carry his cross and come after me cannot
be my disciple.
14:28. For which of you, having a mind to build a tower, doth not first
sit down and reckon the charges that are necessary, whether he have
wherewithal to finish it:
14:29. Lest, after he hath laid the foundation and is not able to
finish it, all that see it begin to mock him,
14:30. Saying:  This man began to build and was not able to finish.
14:31. Or, what king, about to go to make war against another king,
doth not first sit down and think whether he be able, with ten
thousand, to meet him that, with twenty thousand, cometh against him?
14:32. Or else, while the other is yet afar off, sending an embassy, he
desireth conditions of peace.
14:33. So likewise every one of you that doth not renounce all that he
possesseth cannot be my disciple.
14:34. Salt is good.  But if the salt shall lose its savour, wherewith
shall it be seasoned?
14:35. It is neither profitable for the land nor for the dunghill:  but
shall be cast out.  He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
Luke Chapter 15
The parables of the lost sheep and of the prodigal son.
15:1. Now the publicans and sinners drew near unto him to hear him.
15:2. And the Pharisees and the scribes murmured, saying:  This man
receiveth sinners and eateth with them.
15:3. And he spoke to them this parable, saying:
15:4. What man of you that hath an hundred sheep, and if he shall lose
one of them, doth he not leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go
after that which was lost, until he find it?
15:5. And when he hath found it, lay it upon his shoulders, rejoicing?
15:6. And coming home, call together his friends and neighbours, saying
to them:  Rejoice with me, because I have found my sheep that was lost?
15:7. I say to you that even so there shall be joy in heaven upon one
sinner that doth penance, more than upon ninety-nine just who need not
15:8. Or what woman having ten groats, if she lose one groat, doth not
light a candle and sweep the house and seek diligently until she find
15:9. And when she hath found it, call together her friends and
neighbours, saying:  Rejoice with me, because I have found the groat
which I had lost.
15:10. So I say to you, there shall be joy before the angels of God
upon one sinner doing penance.
Before the angels. . .By this it is plain that the spirits in heaven
have a concern for us below, and a joy at our repentance and
consequently a knowledge of it.
15:11. And he said:  A certain man had two sons.
15:12. And the younger of them said to his father:  Father, give me the
portion of substance that falleth to me.  And he divided unto them his
15:13. And not many days after, the younger son, gathering all
together, went abroad into a far country:  and there wasted his
substance, living riotously.
15:14. And after he had spent all, there came a mighty famine in that
country:  and he began to be in want.
15:15. And he went and cleaved to one of the citizens of that country.
And he sent him into his farm to feed swine.
15:16. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks the swine
did eat:  and no man gave unto him.
15:17. And returning to himself, he said:  How many hired servants in my
father's house abound with bread, and I here perish with hunger!
15:18. I will arise and will go to my father and say to him:  Father, I
have sinned against heaven and before thee.
15:19. I am not worthy to be called thy son:  make me as one of thy
hired servants.
15:20. And rising up, he came to his father.  And when he was yet a
great way off, his father saw him and was moved with compassion and
running to him fell upon his neck and kissed him.
15:21. And the son said to him:  Father:  I have sinned against heaven
and before thee I am not now worthy to be called thy son.
15:22. And the father said to his servants:  Bring forth quickly the
first robe and put it on him:  and put a ring on his hand and shoes on
15:23. And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it:  and let us eat
and make merry:
15:24. Because this my son was dead and is come to life again, was lost
and is found.  And they began to be merry.
15:25. Now his elder son was in the field and when he came and drew
nigh to the house, he heard music and dancing.
15:26. And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things
15:27. And he said to him:  Thy brother is come and thy father hath
killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe.
15:28. And he was angry and would not go in.  His father therefore
coming out began to entreat him.
15:29. And he answering, said to his father:  Behold, for so many years
do I serve thee and I have never transgressed thy commandment:  and yet
thou hast never given me a kid to make merry with my friends.
15:30. But as soon as this thy son is come, who hath devoured his
substance with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.
15:31. But he said to him:  Son, thou art always with me; and all I have
15:32. But it was fit that we should make merry and be glad:  for this
thy brother was dead and is come to life again; he was lost, and is
Luke Chapter 16
The parable of the unjust steward and of the rich man and Lazarus.
16:1. And he said also to his disciples:  There was a certain rich man
who had a steward:  and the same was accused unto him, that he had
wasted his goods.
16:2. And he called him and said to him:  How is it that I hear this of
thee?  Give an account of thy stewardship:  for now thou canst be steward
16:3. And the steward said within himself:  What shall I do, because my
lord taketh away from me the stewardship?  To dig I am not able; to beg
I am ashamed.
16:4. I know what I will do, that when I shall be removed from the
stewardship, they may receive me into their houses.
16:5. Therefore, calling together every one of his lord's debtors, he
said to the first:  How much dost thou owe my lord?
16:6. But he said:  An hundred barrels of oil.  And he said to him:  Take
thy bill and sit down quickly and write fifty.
16:7. Then he said to another:  And how much dost thou owe?  Who said:
An hundred quarters of wheat.  He said to him:  Take thy bill and write
16:8. And the lord commended the unjust steward, forasmuch as he had
done wisely:  for the children of this world are wiser in their
generation than the children of light.
16:9. And I say to you:  Make unto you friends of the mammon of
iniquity:  that when you shall fail, they may receive you into
everlasting dwellings.
Mammon of iniquity. . .Mammon signifies riches.  They are here called the
mammon of iniquity, because oftentimes ill gotten, ill bestowed, or an
occasion of evil; and at the best are but worldly, and false; and not
the true riches of a Christian.  They may receive. . .By this we see,
that the poor servants of God, whom we have relieved by our alms, may
hereafter, by their intercession, bring our souls to heaven.
16:10. He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in
that which is greater:  and he that is unjust in that which is little is
unjust also in that which is greater.
16:11. If then you have not been faithful in the unjust mammon, who
will trust you with that which is the true?
16:12. And if you have not been faithful in that which is another's,
who will give you that which is your own?
16:13. No servant can serve two masters:  for either he will hate the
one and love the other:  or he will hold to the one and despise the
other.  You cannot serve God and mammon.
16:14. Now the Pharisees, who were covetous, heard all these things:
and they derided him.
16:15. And he said to them:  you are they who justify yourselves before
men, but God knoweth your hearts.  For that which is high to men is an
abomination before God.
16:16. The law and the prophets were until John.  From that time the
kingdom of God is preached:  and every one useth violence towards it.
16:17. And it is easier for heaven and earth to pass than one tittle of
the law to fall.
16:18. Every one that putteth away his wife and marrieth another
committeth adultery:  and he that marrieth her that is put away from her
husband committeth adultery.
16:19. There was a certain rich man who was clothed in purple and fine
linen and feasted sumptuously every day.
16:20. And there was a certain beggar, named Lazarus, who lay at his
gate, full of sores,
16:21. Desiring to be filled with the crumbs that fell from the rich
man's table.  And no one did give him:  moreover the dogs came and licked
16:22. And it came to pass that the beggar died and was carried by the
angels into Abraham's bosom.  And the rich man also died:  and he was
buried in hell.
Abraham's bosom. . .The place of rest, where the souls of the saints
resided, till Christ had opened heaven by his death.
16:23. And lifting up his eyes when he was in torments, he saw Abraham
afar off and Lazarus in his bosom:
16:24. And he cried and said:  Father Abraham, have mercy on me and send
Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water to cool my
tongue:  for I am tormented in this flame.
16:25. And Abraham said to him:  Son, remember that thou didst receive
good things in thy lifetime, and likewise Lazarus evil things:  but now
he is comforted and thou art tormented.
16:26. And besides all this, between us and you, there is fixed a great
chaos:  so that they who would pass from hence to you cannot, nor from
thence come hither.
16:27. And he said:  Then, father, I beseech thee that thou wouldst send
him to my father's house, for I have five brethren,
16:28. That he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this
place of torments.
16:29. And Abraham said to him:  They have Moses and the prophets.  Let
them hear them.
16:30. But he said:  No, father Abraham:  but if one went to them from
the dead, they will do penance.
16:31. And he said to him:  If they hear not Moses and the prophets,
neither will they believe, if one rise again from the dead.
Luke Chapter 17
Lessons of avoiding scandal and of the efficacy of faith.  The ten
lepers.  The manner of the coming of Christ.
17:1. And he said to his disciples:  It is impossible that scandals
should not come.  But woe to him through whom they come!
17:2. It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his
neck and he cast into the sea, than that he should scandalize one of
these little ones.
17:3. Take heed to yourselves.  If thy brother sin against thee, reprove
him:  and if he do penance, forgive him.
17:4. And if he sin against thee seven times in a day, and seven times
in a day be converted unto thee, saying:  I repent:  forgive him.
17:5. And the apostles said to the Lord:  Increase our faith.
17:6. And the Lord said:  If you had faith like to a grain of mustard
seed, you might say to this mulberry tree:  Be thou rooted up and be
thou transplanted into the sea.  And it would obey you.
17:7. But which of you, having a servant ploughing or feeding cattle,
will say to him, when he is come from the field:  Immediately go.  Sit
down to meat.
17:8. And will not rather say to him:  Make ready my supper and gird
thyself and serve me, whilst I eat and drink; and afterwards thou shalt
eat and drink?
17:9. Doth he thank that servant for doing the things which he
commanded him?
17:10. I think not.  So you also, when you shall have done all these
things that are commanded you, say:  We are unprofitable servants; we
have done that which we ought to do.
Unprofitable servants. . .Because our service is of no profit to our
master; and he justly claims it as our bounden duty.  But though we are
unprofitable to him, our serving him is not unprofitable to us; for he
is pleased to give by his grace a value to our good works, which, in
consequence of his promise, entitles them to an eternal reward.
17:11. And it came to pass, as he was going to Jerusalem, he passed
through the midst of Samaria and Galilee.
17:12. And as he entered into a certain town, there met him ten men
that were lepers, who stood afar off.
17:13. And lifted up their voice, saying:  Jesus, Master, have mercy on
17:14. Whom when he saw, he said:  Go, shew yourselves to the priests.
And it came to pass, as they went, they were made clean.
17:15. And one of them, when he saw that he was made clean, went back,
with a loud voice glorifying God.
17:16. And he fell on his face before his feet, giving thanks.  And this
was a Samaritan.
17:17. And Jesus answering, said:  Were not ten made clean?  And where
are the nine?
17:18. There is no one found to return and give glory to God, but this
17:19. And he said to him:  Arise, go thy way; for thy faith hath made
17:20. And being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God should
come, he answering them and said:  The kingdom of God cometh not with
observation.
17:21. Neither shall they say:  Behold here, or behold there.  For lo,
the kingdom of God is within you.
17:22. And he said to his disciples:  The days will come when you shall
desire to see one day of the Son of man.  And you shall not see it.
17:23. And they will say to you:  See here, and see there.  Go ye not
after, nor follow them.
17:24. For as the lightning that lighteneth from under heaven shineth
unto the parts that are under heaven, so shall the Son of man be in his
17:25. But first he must suffer many things and be rejected by this
17:26. And as it came to pass in the days of Noe, so shall it be also
in the days of the Son of man.
17:27. They did eat and drink, they married wives and were given in
marriage, until the day that Noe entered into the ark and the flood
came and destroyed them all.
17:28. Likewise as it came to pass in the days of Lot.  They did eat and
drink, they bought and sold, they planted and built.
17:29. And in the day that Lot went out of Sodom, it rained fire and
brimstone from heaven and destroyed them all.
17:30. Even thus shall it be in the day when the Son of man shall be
17:31. In that hour, he that shall be on the housetop, and his goods in
the house, let him not go down to take them away:  and he that shall be
in the field, in like manner, let him not return back.
17:32. Remember Lot's wife.
17:33. Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it:  and
whosoever shall lose it shall preserve it.
17:34. I say to you:  In that night there shall be two men in one bed.
The one shall be taken and the other shall be left.
17:35. Two women shall be grinding together.  The one shall be taken and
the other shall be left.  Two men shall be in the field.  The one shall
be taken and the other shall be left.
17:36. They answering, say to him:  Where, Lord?
17:37. Who said to them:  Wheresoever the body shall be, thither will
the eagles also be gathered together.
Luke Chapter 18
We must pray always.  The Pharisee and the publican.  The danger of
riches.  The blind man is restored to sight.
18:1. And he spoke also a parable to them, that we ought always to pray
and not to faint,
18:2. Saying:  There was a judge in a certain city, who feared not God
nor regarded man.
18:3. And there was a certain widow in that city; and she came to him,
saying:  Avenge me of my adversary.
Avenge. . .That is, do me justice.  It is a Hebraism.
18:4. And he would not for a long time.  But afterwards he said within
himself:  Although I fear not God nor regard man,
18:5. Yet because this widow is troublesome to me, I will avenge her,
lest continually coming she weary me.
18:6. And the Lord said:  Hear what the unjust judge saith.
18:7. And will not God revenge his elect who cry to him day and night?
And will he have patience in their regard?
18:8. I say to you that he will quickly revenge them.  But yet the Son
of man, when he cometh, shall he find, think you, faith on earth?
18:9. And to some who trusted in themselves as just and despised
others, he spoke also this parable:
18:10. Two men went up into the temple to pray:  the one a Pharisee and
the other a publican.
18:11. The Pharisee standing, prayed thus with himself:  O God, I give
thee thanks that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust,
adulterers, as also is this publican.
18:12. I fast twice in a week:  I give tithes of all that I possess.
18:13. And the publican, standing afar off, would not so much as lift
up his eyes towards heaven; but struck his breast, saying:  O God, be
merciful to me a sinner.
18:14. I say to you, this man went down into his house justified rather
than the other:  because every one that exalteth himself shall be
humbled:  and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.
18:15. And they brought unto him also infants, that he might touch
them.  Which when the disciples saw, they rebuked them.
18:16. But Jesus, calling them together, said:  Suffer children to come
to me and forbid them not:  for of such is the kingdom of God.
18:17. Amen, I say to you:  Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of
God as a child shall not enter into it.
18:18. And a certain ruler asked him, saying:  Good master, what shall I
do to possess everlasting life?
18:19. And Jesus said to him:  Why dost thou call me good?  None is good
but God alone.
18:20. Thou knowest the commandments:  Thou shalt not kill.  Thou shalt
not commit adultery:  Thou shalt not steal:  Thou shalt not bear false
witness:  Honour thy father and mother.
18:21. Who said:  All these things have I kept from my youth.
18:22. Which when Jesus had heard, he said to him:  Yet one thing is
wanting to thee.  Sell all whatever thou hast and give to the poor:  and
thou shalt have treasure in heaven.  And come, follow me.
18:23. He having heard these things, became sorrowful:  for he was very
18:24. And Jesus seeing him become sorrowful, said:  How hardly shall
they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God
18:25. For it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle
than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.
18:26. And they that heard it said:  Who then can be saved?
18:27. He said to them:  The things that are impossible with men are
possible with God.
18:28. Then Peter said:  Behold, we have left all things and have
followed thee.
18:29. Who said to them:  Amen, I say to you, there is no man that hath
left home or parents or brethren or wife or children, for the kingdom
of God's sake,
18:30. Who shall not receive much more in this present time, and in the
world to come life everlasting.
18:31. Then Jesus took unto him the twelve and said to them:  Behold, we
go up to Jerusalem; and all things shall be accomplished which were
written by the prophets concerning the Son of man.
18:32. For he shall be delivered to the Gentiles and shall be mocked
and scourged and spit upon.
18:33. And after they have scourged him, they will put him to death.
And the third day he shall rise again.
18:34. And they understood none of these things, and this word was hid
from them:  and they understood not the things that were said.
18:35. Now it came to pass, when he drew nigh to Jericho, that a
certain blind man sat by the way side, begging.
18:36. And when he heard the multitude passing by, he asked what this
18:37. And they told him that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by.
18:38. And he cried out, saying:  Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.
18:39. And they that went before rebuked him, that he should hold his
peace:  but he cried out much more:  Son of David, have mercy on me.
18:40. And Jesus standing, commanded him to be brought unto him.  And
when he was come near, he asked him,
18:41. Saying; What wilt thou that I do to thee?  But he said:  Lord,
that I may see.
18:42. And Jesus said to him:  Receive thy sight:  thy faith hath made
18:43. And immediately he saw and followed him, glorifying God.  And all
the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.
Luke Chapter 19
Zacheus entertains Christ.  The parable of the pounds.  Christ rides upon
an ass and weeps over Jerusalem.
19:1. And entering he walked through Jericho.
19:2. And behold, there was a man named Zacheus, who was the chief of
the publicans:  and he was rich.
19:3. And he sought to see Jesus who he was:  and he could not for the
crowd, because he was low of stature.
19:4. And running before, he climbed up into a sycamore tree, that he
might see him:  for he was to pass that way.
19:5. And when Jesus was come to the place, looking up, he saw him and
said to him:  Zacheus, make haste and come down:  for this day I must
abide in thy house.
19:6. And he made haste and came down and received him with joy.
19:7. And when all saw it, they murmured, saying, that he was gone to
be a guest with a man that was a sinner.
19:8. But Zacheus standing, said to the Lord:  Behold, Lord, the half of
my goods I give to the poor; and if I have wronged any man of any
thing, I restore him fourfold.
19:9. Jesus said to him:  This day is salvation come to this house,
because he also is a son of Abraham.
19:10. For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was
19:11. As they were hearing these things, he added and spoke a parable,
because he was nigh to Jerusalem and because they thought that the
kingdom of God should immediately be manifested.
19:12. He said therefore:  a certain nobleman went into a far country,
to receive for himself a kingdom and to return.
19:13. And calling his ten servants, he gave them ten pounds and said
to them:  Trade till I come.
He gave them ten pounds. . .In the original, what is here translated a
pound, is in Latin, mina, in value of our coin, three pounds two
shillings and sixpence.
19:14. But his citizens hated him and they sent an embassage after him,
saying:  We will not have this man to reign over us.
19:15. And it came to pass that he returned, having received the
kingdom:  and he commanded his servants to be called, to whom he had
given the money, that he might know how much every man had gained by
19:16. And the first came saying:  Lord, thy pound hath gained ten
19:17. And he said to him:  Well done, thou good servant, because thou
hast been faithful in a little, thou shalt have power over ten cities.
19:18. And the second came, saying:  Lord, thy pound hath gained five
19:19. And he said to him:  Be thou also over five cities.
19:20. And another came, saying:  Lord, behold here is thy pound, which
I have kept laid up in a napkin.
19:21. For I feared thee, because thou art an austere man:  thou takest
up what thou didst not lay down:  and thou reapest that which thou didst
19:22. He saith to him:  Out of thy own mouth I judge thee, thou wicked
servant.  Thou knewest that I was an austere man, taking up what I laid
not down and reaping that which I did not sow.
19:23. And why then didst thou not give my money into the bank, that at
my coming I might have exacted it with usury?
19:24. And he said to them that stood by:  Take the pound away from him
and give it to him that hath ten pounds.
19:25. And they said to him:  Lord, he hath ten pounds.
19:26. But I say to you that to every one that hath shall be given, and
he shall abound:  and from him that hath not, even that which he hath
shall be taken from him.
19:27. But as for those my enemies, who would not have me reign over
them, bring them hither and kill them before me.
19:28. And having said these things, he went before, going up to
19:29. And it came to pass, when he was come nigh to Bethphage and
Bethania, unto the mount called Olivet, he sent two of his disciples,
19:30. Saying:  Go into the town which is over against you, at your
entering into which you shall find the colt of an ass tied, on which no
man ever hath sitten:  loose him and bring him hither.
19:31. And if any man shall ask you:  Why do you loose him?  You shall
say thus unto him:  Because the Lord hath need of his service.
19:32. And they that were sent went their way and found the colt
standing, as he said unto them.
19:33. And as they were loosing the colt, the owners thereof said to
them:  Why loose you the colt?
19:34. But they said:  Because the Lord hath need of him.
19:35. And they brought him to Jesus.  And casting their garments on the
colt, they set Jesus thereon.
19:36. And as he went, they spread their clothes underneath in the way.
19:37. And when he was now coming near the descent of Mount Olivet, the
whole multitude of his disciples began with joy to praise God with a
loud voice, for all the mighty works they had seen,
19:38. Saying:  Blessed be the king who cometh in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven and glory on high!
19:39. And some of the Pharisees, from amongst the multitude, said to
him:  Master, rebuke thy disciples.
19:40. To whom he said:  I say to you that if these shall hold their
peace, the stones will cry out.
19:41. And when he drew near, seeing the city, he wept over it, saying:
19:42. If thou also hadst known, and that in this thy day, the things
that are to thy peace:  but now they are hidden from thy eyes.
19:43. For the days shall come upon thee:  and thy enemies shall cast a
trench about thee and compass thee round and straiten thee on every
19:44. And beat thee flat to the ground, and thy children who are in
thee.  And they shall not leave in thee a stone upon a stone:  because
thou hast not known the time of thy visitation.
19:45. And entering into the temple, he began to cast out them that
sold therein and them that bought.
19:46. Saying to them:  It is written:  My house is the house of prayer.
But you have made it a den of thieves.
19:47. And he was teaching daily in the temple.  And the chief priests
and the scribes and the rulers of the people sought to destroy him.
19:48. And they found not what to do to him:  for all the people were
very attentive to hear him.
Luke Chapter 20
The parable of the husbandmen.  Of paying tribute to Caesar and of the
resurrection of the dead.
20:1. And it came to pass that on one of the days, as he was teaching
the people in the temple and preaching the gospel, the chief priests
and the scribes, with the ancients, met together,
20:2. And spoke to him, saying:  Tell us, by what authority dost thou
these things?  Or, who is he that hath given thee this authority?
20:3. And Jesus answering, said to them:  I will also ask you one thing.
20:4. The baptism of John, was it from heaven, or of men?
20:5. But they thought within themselves, saying:  If we shall say, From
heaven:  he will say:  Why then did you not believe in him?
20:6. But if we say, of men:  the whole people will stone us.  For they
are persuaded that John was a prophet.
20:7. And they answered that they knew not whence it was.
20:8. And Jesus said to them:  Neither do I tell you by what authority I
do these things.
20:9. And he began to speak to the people this parable:  A certain man
planted a vineyard and let it out to husbandmen:  and he was abroad for
a long time.
20:10. And at the season he sent a servant to the husbandmen, that they
should give him of the fruit of the vineyard.  Who, beating him, sent
him away empty.
20:11. And again he sent another servant.  But they beat him also and,
treating him reproachfully, sent him away empty.
20:12. And again he sent the third:  and they wounded him also and cast
20:13. Then the lord of the vineyard said:  What shall I do?  I will send
my beloved son.  It may be, when they see him, they will reverence him.
20:14. Whom, when the husbandmen saw, they thought within themselves,
saying:  This is the heir.  Let us kill him, that the inheritance may be
20:15. So casting him out of the vineyard, they killed him.  What
therefore will the lord of the vineyard do to them?
20:16. He will come and will destroy these husbandmen and will give the
vineyard to others.  Which they hearing, said to him:  God forbid.
20:17. But he looking on them, said:  What is this then that is written,
The stone, which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of
20:18. Whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be bruised:  and upon
whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder.
20:19. And the chief priests and the scribes sought to lay hands on him
the same hour:  but they feared the people, for they knew that he spoke
this parable to them.
20:20. And being upon the watch, they sent spies, who should feign
themselves just, that they might take hold of him in his words, that
they might deliver him up to the authority and power of the governor.
20:21. And they asked him, saying:  Master, we know that thou speakest
and teachest rightly:  and thou dost not respect any person, but
teachest the way of God in truth.
20:22. Is it lawful for us to give tribute to Caesar, or no?
20:23. But he, considering their guile, said to them:  Why tempt you me?
20:24. Shew me a penny.  Whose image and inscription hath it?  They
answering, said to him:  Caesar's.
20:25. And he said to them:  Render therefore to Caesar the things, that
are Caesar's:  and to God the things that are God's.
20:26. And they could not reprehend his word before the people:  and
wondering at his answer, they held their peace.
20:27. And there came to him some of the Sadducees, who deny that there
is any resurrection:  and they asked him,
20:28. Saying:  Master, Moses wrote unto us:  If any man's brother die,
having a wife, and he leave no children, that his brother should take
her to wife and raise up seed unto his brother.
20:29. There were therefore seven brethren:  and the first took a wife
and died without children.
20:30. And the next took her to wife:  and he also died childless.
20:31. And the third took her.  And in like manner, all the seven:  and
they left no children and died.
20:32. Last of all the woman died also.
20:33. In the resurrection therefore, whose wife of them shall she be?
For all the seven had her to wife.
20:34. And Jesus said to them:  The children of this world marry and are
given in marriage:
20:35. But they that shall be accounted worthy of that world and of the
resurrection from the dead shall neither be married nor take wives.
20:36. Neither can they die any more for they are equal to the angels
and are the children of God, being the children of the resurrection.
20:37. Now that the dead rise again, Moses also shewed at the bush,
when he called the Lord:  The God of Abraham and the God of Isaac and
the God of Jacob.
20:38. For he is not the God of the dead, but of the living:  for all
live to him.
20:39. And some of the scribes answering, said to him:  Master, thou
hast said well.
20:40. And after that they durst not ask him any more questions.
20:41. But he said to them:  How say they that Christ is the son of
20:42. And David himself saith in the book of Psalms:  The Lord said to
my Lord, sit thou on my right hand,
20:43. Till I make thy enemies thy footstool.
20:44. David then calleth him Lord.  And how is he his son?
20:45. And in the hearing of all the people, he said to his disciples:
20:46. Beware of the scribes, who desire to walk in long robes and love
salutations in the market place and the first chairs in the synagogues
and the chief rooms at feasts:
20:47. Who devour the houses of widows, feigning long prayer.  These
shall receive greater damnation.
Luke Chapter 21
The widow's mites.  The signs that should forerun the destruction of
Jerusalem and the end of the world.
21:1. And looking on, he saw the rich men cast their gifts into the
21:2. And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in two brass mites.
21:3. And he said:  Verily, I say to you that this poor widow hath cast
in more than they all.
21:4. For all these have of their abundance cast into the offerings of
God:  but she of her want hath cast in all the living that she had.
21:5. And some saying of the temple that it was adorned with goodly
stones and gifts, he said:
21:6. These things which you see, the days will come in which there
shall not be left a stone upon a stone that shall not be thrown down.
21:7. And they asked him, saying:  Master, when shall these things be?
And what shall be the sign when they shall begin to come to pass?
21:8. Who said:  Take heed you be not seduced:  for many will come in my
name, saying:  I am he and the time is at hand.  Go ye not therefore
21:9. And when you shall hear of wars and seditions, be not terrified.
These things must first come to pass:  but the end is not yet presently.
21:10. Then he said to them:  Nation shall rise against nation, and
kingdom against kingdom.
21:11. And there shall be great earthquakes in divers places and
pestilences and famines and terrors from heaven:  and there shall be
great signs.
21:12. But before all these things, they will lay their hands on you
and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and into
prisons, dragging you before kings and governors, for my name's sake.
21:13. And it shall happen unto you for a testimony.
21:14. Lay it up therefore in your hearts, not to meditate before how
you shall answer:
21:15. For I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your
adversaries shall not be able to resist and gainsay.
21:16. And you shall be betrayed by your parents and brethren and
kinsmen and friends:  and some of you they will put to death.
21:17. And you shall be hated by all men for my name's sake.
21:18. But a hair of your head shall not perish.
21:19. In your patience you shall possess your souls.
21:20. And when you shall see Jerusalem compassed about with an army,
then know that the desolation thereof is at hand.
21:21. Then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains:  and those
who are in the midst thereof depart out:  and those who are in the
countries not enter into it.
21:22. For these are the days of vengeance, that all things may be
fulfilled, that are written.
21:23. But woe to them that are with child and give suck in those days:
for there shall be great distress in the land and wrath upon this
21:24. And they shall fall by the edge of the sword and shall be led
away captives into all nations:  and Jerusalem shall be trodden down by
the Gentiles till the times of the nations be fulfilled.
21:25. And there shall be signs in the sun and in the moon and in the
stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, by reason of the
confusion of the roaring of the sea, and of the waves:
21:26. Men withering away for fear and expectation of what shall come
upon the whole world.  For the powers of heaven shall be moved.
21:27. And then they shall see the Son of man coming in a cloud, with
great power and majesty.
21:28. But when these things begin to come to pass, look up and lift up
your heads, because your redemption is at hand.
21:29. And he spoke to them a similitude.  See the fig tree and all the
21:30. When they now shoot forth their fruit, you know that summer is
21:31. So you also, when you shall see these things come to pass, know
that the kingdom of God is at hand.
21:32. Amen, I say to you, this generation shall not pass away till all
things be fulfilled.
21:33. Heaven and earth shall pass away:  but my words shall not pass
21:34. And take heed to yourselves, lest perhaps your hearts be
overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness and the cares of this life:
and that day come upon you suddenly.
21:35. For as a snare shall it come upon all that sit upon the face of
the whole earth.
21:36. Watch ye, therefore, praying at all times, that you may be
accounted worthy to escape all these things that are to come and to
stand before the Son of man.
21:37. And in the daytime, he was teaching in the temple:  but at night
going out, he abode in the mount that is called Olivet.
21:38. And all the people came early in the morning to him in the
temple, to hear him.
Luke Chapter 22
The treason of Judas.  The last supper.  The first part of the history of
the passion.
22:1. Now the feast of unleavened bread, which is called the pasch, was
22:2. And the chief priests and the scribes sought how they might put
Jesus to death:  but they feared the people.
22:3. And Satan entered into Judas, who was surnamed Iscariot, one of
22:4. And he went and discoursed with the chief priests and the
magistrates, how he might betray him to them.
22:5. And they were glad and covenanted to give him money.
22:6. And he promised.  And he sought opportunity to betray him in the
absence of the multitude.
22:7. And the day of the unleavened bread came, on which it was
necessary that the pasch should be killed.
22:8. And he sent Peter and John, saying:  Go, and prepare for us the
pasch, that we may eat.
22:9. But they said:  Where wilt thou that we prepare?
22:10. And he said to them:  Behold, as you go into the city, there
shall meet you a man carrying a pitcher of water:  follow him into the
house where he entereth in.
22:11. And you shall say to the goodman of the house:  The master saith
to thee:  Where is the guest chamber, where I may eat the pasch with my
22:12. And he will shew you a large dining room, furnished.  And there
22:13. And they going, found as he had said to them and made ready the
22:14. And when the hour was come, he sat down:  and the twelve apostles
22:15. And he said to them:  With desire I have desired to eat this
pasch with you, before I suffer.
22:16. For I say to you that from this time I will not eat it, till it
be fulfilled in the kingdom of God.
22:17. And having taken the chalice, he gave thanks and said:  Take and
divide it among you.
22:18. For I say to you that I will not drink of the fruit of the vine,
till the kingdom of God come.
22:19. And taking bread, he gave thanks and brake and gave to them,
saying:  This is my body, which is given for you.  Do this for a
commemoration of me.
Do this for a commemoration of me. . .This sacrifice and sacrament is to
be continued in the church, to the end of the world, to shew forth the
death of Christ, until he cometh.  But this commemoration, or
remembrance, is by no means inconsistent with the real presence of his
body and blood, under these sacramental veils, which represent his
death; on the contrary, it is the manner that he himself hath
commanded, of commemorating and celebrating his death, by offering in
sacrifice, and receiving in the sacrament, that body and blood by which
we were redeemed.
22:20. In like manner, the chalice also, after he had supped, saying:
This is the chalice, the new testament in my blood, which shall be shed
22:21. But yet behold:  the hand of him that betrayeth me is with me on
22:22. And the Son of man indeed goeth, according to that which is
determined:  but yet, woe to that man by whom he shall be betrayed.
22:23. And they began to inquire among themselves, which of them it was
that should do this thing.
22:24. And there was also a strife amongst them, which of them should
seem to be the greater.
22:25. And he said to them:  The kings of the Gentiles lord it over
them; and they that have power over them are called beneficent.
22:26. But you not so:  but he that is the greater among you, let him
become as the younger:  and he that is the leader, as he that serveth.
22:27. For which is greater, he that sitteth at table or he that
serveth?  Is not he that sitteth at table?  But I am in the midst of you,
as he that serveth.
22:28. And you are they who have continued with me in my temptations:
22:29. And I dispose to you, as my Father hath disposed to me, a
22:30. That you may eat and drink at my table, in my kingdom:  and may
sit upon thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
22:31. And the Lord said:  Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to
have you, that he may sift you as wheat.
22:32. But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not:  and thou,
being once converted, confirm thy brethren.
22:33. Who said to him:  Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into
prison and to death.
22:34. And he said:  I say to thee, Peter, the cock shall not crow this
day, till thou thrice deniest that thou knowest me.  And he said to
22:35. When I sent you without purse and scrip and shoes, did you want
22:36. But they said:  Nothing.  Then said he unto them:  But now he that
hath a purse, let him take it, and likewise a scrip:  and he that hath
not, let him sell his coat and buy a sword.
22:37. For I say to you that this that is written must yet be fulfilled
in me.  And with the wicked was he reckoned.  For the things concerning
me have an end.
22:38. But they said:  Lord, behold, here are two swords.  And he said to
them:  It is enough.
22:39. And going out, he went, according to his custom, to the Mount of
Olives.  And his disciples also followed him.
22:40. And when he was come to the place, he said to them:  Pray, lest
ye enter into temptation.
22:41. And he was withdrawn away from them a stone's cast.  And kneeling
down, he prayed.
22:42. Saying:  Father, if thou wilt, remove this chalice from me:  but
yet not my will, but thine be done.
22:43. And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening
him.  And being in an agony, he prayed the longer.
22:44. And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the
22:45. And when he rose up from prayer and was come to the disciples,
he found them sleeping for sorrow.
22:46. And he said to them:  Why sleep you?  Arise:  pray:  lest you
enter into temptation.
22:47. As he was yet speaking, behold a multitude; and he that was
called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them and drew near to
Jesus, for to kiss him.
22:48. And Jesus said to him:  Judas, dost thou betray the Son of man
with a kiss?
22:49. And they that were about him, seeing what would follow, said to
him:  Lord, shall we strike with the sword?
22:50. And one of them struck the servant of the high priest and cut
off his right ear.
22:51. But Jesus answering, said:  Suffer ye thus far.  And when he had
touched his ear, he healed him.
22:52. And Jesus said to the chief priests and magistrates of the
temple and the ancients, that were come unto him:  Are ye come out, as
it were against a thief, with swords and clubs?
22:53. When I was daily with you in the temple, you did not stretch
forth your hands against me:  but this is your hour and the power of
22:54. And apprehending him, they led him to the high priest's house.
But Peter followed afar off.
22:55. And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall and
were sitting about it, Peter was in the midst of them.
22:56. Whom when a certain servant maid had seen sitting at the light
and had earnestly beheld him, she said:  This man also was with him.
22:57. But he denied him, saying:  Woman, I know him not.
22:58. And after a little while, another seeing him, said:  Thou also
art one of them.  But Peter said:  O man, I am not.
Another, etc. . .Observe here, in order to reconcile the four
Evangelists, that divers persons concurred in charging Peter with being
Christ's disciple; till at length they brought him to deny him thrice.
1. The porteress that let him in, and afterwards seeing him at the
fire, first put the question to him; and then positively affirmed that
he was with Christ.  2. Another maid accused him to the standers by; and
gave occasion to the man here mentioned to renew the charge against
him, which caused the second denial.  3. Others of the company took
notice of his being a Galilean; and were seconded by the kinsman of
Malchus, who affirmed he had seen him in the garden.  And this drew on
the third denial.
22:59. And after the space, as it were of one hour, another certain man
affirmed, saying:  Of a truth, this man was also with him:  for he is
also a Galilean.
22:60. And Peter said:  Man, I know not what thou sayest.  And
immediately, as he was yet speaking, the cock crew.
22:61. And the Lord turning looked on Peter.  And Peter remembered the
word of the Lord, as he had said:  Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny
22:62. And Peter going out, wept bitterly.
22:63. And the men that held him mocked him and struck him.
22:64. And they blindfolded him and smote his face.  And they asked him
saying:  Prophesy:  Who is it that struck thee?
22:65. And blaspheming, many other things they said against him.
22:66. And as soon as it was day, the ancients of the people and the
chief priests and scribes came together.  And they brought him into
their council saying:  If thou be the Christ, tell us.
22:67. And he saith to them:  If I shall tell you, you will not believe
22:68. And if I shall also ask you, you will not answer me, nor let me
22:69. But hereafter the Son of man shall be sitting on the right hand
of the power of God.
22:70. Then said they all:  Art thou then the Son of God?  Who said:  You
say that I am.
22:71. And they said:  What need we any further testimony?  For we
ourselves have heard it from his own mouth.
Luke Chapter 23
The continuation of the history of the passion.
23:1. And the whole multitude of them, rising up, led him to Pilate.
23:2. And they began to accuse him, saying:  We have found this man
perverting our nation and forbidding to give tribute to Caesar and
saying that he is Christ the king.
23:3. And Pilate asked him, saying:  Art thou the king of the Jews?  But
he answering, said:  Thou sayest it.
23:4. And Pilate said to the chief priests and to the multitudes:  I
find no cause in this man.
23:5. But they were more earnest, saying:  He stirreth up the people,
teaching throughout all Judea, beginning from Galilee to this place.
23:6. But Pilate hearing Galilee, asked if the man were of Galilee?
23:7. And when he understood that he was of Herod's jurisdiction, he
sent him away to Herod, who was also himself at Jerusalem in those
23:8. And Herod seeing Jesus, was very glad:  for he was desirous of a
long time to see him, because he had heard many things of him; and he
hoped to see some sign wrought by him.
23:9. And he questioned him in many words.  But he answered him nothing.
23:10. And the chief priests and the scribes stood by, earnestly
accusing him.
23:11. And Herod with his army set him at nought and mocked him,
putting on him a white garment:  and sent him back to Pilate.
23:12. And Herod and Pilate were made friends, that same day:  for
before they were enemies one to another.
23:13. And Pilate, calling together the chief priests and the
magistrates and the people,
23:14. Said to them:  You have presented unto me this man as one that
perverteth the people.  And behold I, having examined him before you,
find no cause in this man, in those things wherein you accuse him.
23:15. No, nor Herod neither.  For, I sent you to him:  and behold,
nothing worthy of death is done to him.
23:16. I will chastise him therefore and release him.
23:17. Now of necessity he was to release unto them one upon the feast
23:18. But the whole multitude together cried out, saying:  Away with
this man, and release unto us Barabbas:
23:19. Who, for a certain sedition made in the city and for a murder,
was cast into prison.
23:20. And Pilate again spoke to them, desiring to release Jesus.
23:21. But they cried again, saying:  Crucify him, Crucify him.
23:22. And he said to them the third time:  Why, what evil hath this man
done?  I find no cause of death in him.  I will chastise him therefore
and let him go.
23:23. But they were instant with loud voices, requiring that he might
be crucified.  And their voices prevailed.
23:24. And Pilate gave sentence that it should be as they required.
23:25. And he released unto them him who for murder and sedition had
been cast into prison, whom they had desired.  But Jesus he delivered up
to their will.
23:26. And as they led him away, they laid hold of one Simon of Cyrene,
coming from the country; and they laid the cross on him to carry after
23:27. And there followed him a great multitude of people and of women,
who bewailed and lamented him.
23:28. But Jesus turning to them, said:  Daughters of Jerusalem, weep
not over me; but weep for yourselves and for your children.
23:29. For behold, the days shall come, wherein they will say:  Blessed
are the barren and the wombs that have not borne and the paps that have
not given suck.
23:30. Then shall they begin to say to the mountains:  Fall upon us.  And
to the hills:  Cover us.
23:31. For if in the green wood they do these things, what shall be
done in the dry?
23:32. And there were also two other malefactors led with him to be put
23:33. And when they were come to the place which is called Calvary,
they crucified him there:  and the robbers, one on the right hand, and
the other on the left.
23:34. And Jesus said:  Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do.  But they, dividing his garments, cast lots.
23:35. And the people stood beholding.  And the rulers with them derided
him, saying:  He saved others:  let him save himself, if he be Christ,
the elect of God.
23:36. And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him and offering him
23:37. And saying:  If thou be the king of the Jews, save thyself.
23:38. And there was also a superscription written over him in letters
of Greek and Latin and Hebrew THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.
23:39. And one of those robbers who were hanged blasphemed him, saying:
If thou be Christ, save thyself and us.
23:40. But the other answering, rebuked him, saying:  Neither dost thou
fear God, seeing; thou art under the same condemnation?
23:41. And we indeed justly:  for we receive the due reward of our
deeds.  But this man hath done no evil.
23:42. And he said to Jesus:  Lord, remember me when thou shalt come
into thy kingdom.
23:43. And Jesus said to him:  Amen I say to thee:  This day thou shalt
be with me in paradise.
In paradise. . .That is, in the happy state of rest, joy, and peace
everlasting.  Christ was pleased, by a special privilege, to reward the
faith and confession of the penitent thief, with a full discharge of
all his sins, both as to the guilt and punishment; and to introduce him
immediately after death into the happy society of the saints, whose
limbo, that is, the place of their confinement, was now made a paradise
by our Lord's going thither.
23:44. And it was almost the sixth hour:  and there was darkness over
all the earth until the ninth hour.
23:45. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in
23:46. And Jesus crying with a loud voice, said:  Father, into thy hands
I commend my spirit.  And saying this, he gave up the ghost.
23:47. Now, the centurion, seeing what was done, glorified God, saying:
Indeed this was a just man.
23:48. And all the multitude of them that were come together to that
sight and saw the things that were done returned, striking their
23:49. And all his acquaintance and the women that had followed him
from Galilee stood afar off, beholding these things.
23:50. And behold there was a man named Joseph who was a counsellor, a
good and a just man,
23:51. (The same had not consented to their counsel and doings) of
Arimathea, a city of Judea:  who also himself looked for the kingdom of
23:52. This man went to Pilate and begged the body of Jesus.
23:53. And taking him down, he wrapped him in fine linen and laid him
in a sepulchre that was hewed in stone, wherein never yet any man had
23:54. And it was the day of the Parasceve:  and the sabbath drew on.
Parasceve. . .That is, the eve, or day of preparation for the sabbath.
23:55. And the women that were come with him from Galilee, following
after, saw the sepulchre and how his body was laid.
23:56. And returning, they prepared spices and ointments:  and on the
sabbath day they rested, according to the commandment.
Luke Chapter 24
Christ's resurrection and manifestation of himself to his disciples.
24:1. And on the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they
came to the sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had prepared.
24:2. And they found the stone rolled back from the sepulchre.
24:3. And going in, they found not the body of the Lord Jesus.
24:4. And it came to pass, as they were astonished in their mind at
this, behold, two men stood by them, in shining apparel.
24:5. And as they were afraid and bowed down their countenance towards
the ground, they said unto them:  Why seek you the living with the dead?
24:6. He is not here, but is risen.  Remember how he spoke unto you,
when he was yet in Galilee,
24:7. Saying:  The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful
men and be crucified and the third day rise again.
24:8. And they remembered his words.
24:9. And going back from the sepulchre, they told all these things to
the eleven and to all the rest.
24:10. And it was Mary Magdalen and Joanna and Mary of James and the
other women that were with them, who told these things to the apostles.
24:11. And these words seemed to them as idle tales:  and they did not
believe them.
24:12. But Peter rising up, ran to the sepulchre and, stooping down, he
saw the linen cloths laid by themselves:  and went away wondering in
himself at that which was come to pass.
24:13. And behold, two of them went, the same day, to a town which was
sixty furlongs from Jerusalem, named Emmaus.
24:14. And they talked together of all these things which had happened.
24:15. And it came to pass that while they talked and reasoned with
themselves, Jesus himself also, drawing near, went with them.
24:16. But their eyes were held, that they should not know him.
24:17. And he said to them:  What are these discourses that you hold one
with another as you walk and are sad?
24:18. And the one of them, whose name was Cleophas, answering, said to
him:  Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the
things that have been done there in these days?
24:19. To whom he said:  What things?  And they said:  Concerning Jesus
of Nazareth, who was a prophet, mighty in work and word before God and
all the people.
24:20. And how our chief priests and princes delivered him to be
condemned to death and crucified him.
24:21. But we hoped that it was he that should have redeemed Israel.
And now besides all this, to-day is the third day since these things
24:22. Yea and certain women also of our company affrighted us who,
before it was light, were at the sepulchre,
24:23. And not finding his body, came, saying that they had all seen a
vision of angels, who say that he is alive.
24:24. And some of our people went to the sepulchre and found it so as
the women had said:  but him they found not.
24:25. Then he said to them:  O foolish and slow of heart to believe in
all things, Which the prophets have spoken.
24:26. Ought not Christ to have suffered these things and so, to enter
into his glory?
24:27. And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded to
them in all the scriptures the things that were concerning him.
24:28. And they drew nigh to the town whither they were going:  and he
made as though he would go farther.
24:29. But they constrained him, saying:  Stay with us, because it is
towards evening and the day is now far spent.  And he went in with them.
24:30. And it came to pass, whilst he was at table with them, he took
bread and blessed and brake and gave to them.
24:31. And their eyes were opened:  and they knew him.  And he vanished
out of their sight.
24:32. And they said one to the other:  Was not our heart burning within
us, whilst he spoke in the way and opened to us the scriptures?
24:33. And rising up, the same hour, they went back to Jerusalem:  and
they found the eleven gathered together, and those that were with them,
24:34. Saying:  The Lord is risen indeed and hath appeared to Simon.
24:35. And they told what things were done in the way:  and how they
knew him in the breaking of bread.
24:36. Now, whilst they were speaking these things, Jesus stood in the
midst of them and saith to them:  Peace be to you.  It is I:  Fear not.
24:37. But they being troubled and frightened, supposed that they saw a
24:38. And he said to them:  Why are you troubled, and why do thoughts
arise in your hearts?
24:39. See my hands and feet, that it is I myself.  Handle, and see:  for
a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as you see me to have.
24:40. And when he had said this, he shewed them his hands and feet.
24:41. But while they yet believed not and wondered for joy, he said:
Have you here any thing to eat?
24:42. And they offered him a piece of a broiled fish and a honeycomb.
24:43. And when he had eaten before them, taking the remains, he gave
24:44. And he said to them:  These are the words which I spoke to you
while I was yet with you, that all things must needs be fulfilled which
are written in the law of Moses and in the prophets and in the psalms,
concerning me.
24:45. Then he opened their understanding, that they might understand
the scriptures.
24:46. And he said to them:  Thus it is written, and thus it behoved
Christ to suffer and to rise again from the dead, the third day:
24:47. And that penance and remission of sins should be preached in his
name, unto all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.
24:48. And you are witnesses of these things.
24:49. And I send the promise of my Father upon you:  but stay you in
the city till you be endued with power from on high.
The promise of my Father. . .that is, the Holy Ghost, whom Christ had
promised that his Father and he would send, John 14. 26, and 17. 7.
24:50. And he led them out as far as Bethania:  and lifting up his
hands, he blessed them.
24:51. And it came to pass, whilst he blessed them, he departed from
them and was carried up to heaven.
24:52. And they adoring went back into Jerusalem with great joy.
24:53. And they were always in the temple, praising and blessing God.
THE HOLY GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST ACCORDING TO ST. JOHN
St. John the Apostle and Evangelist was the son of Zebedee and Salome,
brother to James the Greater.  He was called the Beloved disciple of
Christ and stood by at his Crucifixion.  He wrote the Gospel after the
other Evangelists, about sixty-three years after our Lord's Ascension.
Many things that they had omitted were supplied by him.  The original
was written in Greek; and by the Greeks he is titled:  The Divine.  St.
Jerome relates that, when he was earnestly requested by the brethren to
write the Gospel, he answered he would do it, if by ordering a common
fast, they would all put up their prayers together to the Almighty God;
which being ended replenished with the clearest and fullest revelation
coming from Heaven, he burst forth into that preface:  IN THE BEGINNING
WAS THE WORD.
John Chapter 1
The divinity and incarnation of Christ.  John bears witness of him.  He
begins to call his disciples.
1:1. In the beginning was the Word:  and the Word was with God:  and the
Word was God.
1:2. The same was in the beginning with God.
1:3. All things were made by him:  and without him was made nothing that
1:4. In him was life:  and the life was the light of men.
1:5. And the light shineth in darkness:  and the darkness did not
comprehend it.
1:6. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.
1:7. This man came for a witness, to give testimony of the light, that
all men might believe through him.
1:8. He was not the light, but was to give testimony of the light.
1:9. That was the true light, which enlighteneth every man that cometh
into this world.
1:10. He was in the world:  and the world was made by him:  and the world
knew him not.
1:11. He came unto his own:  and his own received him not.
1:12. But as many as received him, he gave them power to be made the
sons of God, to them that believe in his name.
1:13. Who are born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of
the will of man, but of God.
1:14. And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us (and we saw his
glory, the glory as it were of the only begotten of the Father), full
of grace and truth.
1:15. John beareth witness of him and crieth out, saying:  This was he
of whom I spoke:  He that shall come after me is preferred before me:
because he was before me.
1:16. And of his fulness we all have received:  and grace for grace.
1:17. For the law was given by Moses:  grace and truth came by Jesus
1:18. No man hath seen God at any time:  the only begotten Son who is in
the Bosom of the Father, he hath declared him.
1:19. And this is the testimony of John, when the Jews sent from
Jerusalem priests and Levites to him, to ask him:  Who art thou?
1:20. And he confessed and did not deny:  and he confessed:  I am not the
1:21. And they asked him:  What then?  Art thou Elias?  And he said:  I
am not.  Art thou the prophet?  And he answered:  No.
1:22. They said therefore unto him:  Who art thou, that we may give an
answer to them that sent us?  What sayest thou of thyself?
1:23. He said:  I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, make
straight the way of the Lord, as said the prophet Isaias.
1:24. And they that were sent were of the Pharisees.
1:25. And they asked him and said to him:  Why then dost thou baptize,
if thou be not Christ, nor Elias, nor the prophet?
1:26. John answered them, saying:  I baptize with water:  but there hath
stood one in the midst of you, whom you know not.
1:27. The same is he that shall come after me, who is preferred before
me:  the latchet of whose shoe I am not worthy to loose.
1:28. These things were done in Bethania, beyond the Jordan, where John
was baptizing.
1:29. The next day, John saw Jesus coming to him; and he saith:  Behold
the Lamb of God.  Behold him who taketh away the sin of the world.
1:30. This is he of whom I said:  After me there cometh a man, who is
preferred before me:  because he was before me.
1:31. And I knew him not:  but that he may be made manifest in Israel,
therefore am I come baptizing with water.
1:32. And John gave testimony, saying:  I saw the Spirit coming down, as
a dove from heaven; and he remained upon him.
1:33. And I knew him not:  but he who sent me to baptize with water said
to me:  He upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending and remaining
upon him, he it is that baptizeth with the Holy Ghost.
1:34. And I saw:  and I gave testimony that this is the Son of God.
1:35. The next day again John stood and two of his disciples.
1:36. And beholding Jesus walking, he saith:  Behold the Lamb of God.
1:37. And the two disciples heard him speak:  and they followed Jesus.
1:38. And Jesus turning and seeing them following him, saith to them:
What seek you?  Who said to him:  Rabbi (which is to say, being
interpreted, Master), where dwellest thou?
1:39. He saith to them:  Come and see.  They came and saw where he abode:
and they stayed with him that day.  Now it was about the tenth hour.
1:40. And Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, was one of the two who
had heard of John and followed him.
1:41. He findeth first his brother Simon and saith to him:  We have
found the Messias, which is, being interpreted, the Christ.
1:42. And he brought him to Jesus.  And Jesus looking upon him, said:
Thou art Simon the son of Jona.  Thou shalt be called Cephas, which is
interpreted Peter.
1:43. On the following day, he would go forth into Galilee:  and he
findeth Philip, And Jesus saith to him:  follow me.
1:44. Now Philip was of Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter.
1:45. Philip findeth Nathanael and saith to him:  We have found him of
whom Moses, in the law and the prophets did write, Jesus the son of
Joseph of Nazareth.
1:46. And Nathanael said to him:  Can any thing of good come from
Nazareth?  Philip saith to him:  Come and see.
1:47. Jesus saw Nathanael coming to him and he saith of him:  Behold an
Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile.
1:48. Nathanael saith to him:  Whence knowest thou me?  Jesus answered
and said to him:  Before that Philip called thee, when thou wast under
the fig tree, I saw thee.
1:49. Nathanael answered him and said:  Rabbi:  Thou art the Son of God.
Thou art the King of Israel.
1:50. Jesus answered and said to him:  Because I said unto thee, I saw
thee under the fig tree, thou believest:  greater things than these
shalt thou see.
1:51. And he saith to him:  Amen, amen, I say to you, you shall see the
heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the
John Chapter 2
Christ changes water into wine.  He casts the sellers out of the temple.
2:1. And the third day, there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee:  and
the mother of Jesus was there.
2:2. And Jesus also was invited, and his disciples, to the marriage.
2:3. And the wine failing, the mother of Jesus saith to him:  They have
2:4. And Jesus saith to her:  Woman, what is that to me and to thee?  My
hour is not yet come.
What is that to me, etc. . .These words of our Saviour, spoken to his
mother, have been understood by some commentators as harsh, they not
considering the next following verse:  Whatsoever he shall say to you,
do ye, which plainly shows that his mother knew of the miracle that he
was to perform, and that it was at her request he wrought it; besides
the manner of speaking the words as to the tone, and the countenance
shown at the same time, which could only be known to those who were
present, or from what had followed:  for words indicating anger in one
tone of voice, would be understood quite the reverse in another.
2:5. His mother saith to the waiters:  Whatsoever he shall say to you,
2:6. Now there were set there six waterpots of stone, according to the
manner of the purifying of the Jews, containing two or three measures
2:7. Jesus saith to them:  Fill the waterpots with water.  And they
filled them up to the brim.
2:8. And Jesus saith to them:  Draw out now and carry to the chief
steward of the feast.  And they carried it.
2:9. And when the chief steward had tasted the water made wine and knew
not whence it was, but the waiters knew who had drawn the water:  the
chief steward calleth the bridegroom,
2:10. And saith to him:  Every man at first setteth forth good wine, and
when men have well drunk, then that which is worse.  But thou hast kept
the good wine until now.
2:11. This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee and
manifested his glory.  And his disciples believed in him.
2:12. After this, he went down to Capharnaum, he and his mother and his
brethren and his disciples:  and they remained there not many days.
2:13. And the pasch of the Jews was at hand:  and Jesus went up to
2:14. And he found in the temple them that sold oxen and sheep and
doves, and the changers of money sitting.
2:15. And when he had made, as it were, a scourge of little cords, he
drove them all out of the temple, the sheep also and the oxen:  and the
money of the changers he poured out, and the tables he overthrew.
2:16. And to them that sold doves he said:  Take these things hence, and
make not the house of my Father a house of traffic.
2:17. And his disciples remembered, that it was written:  The zeal of
thy house hath eaten me up.
2:18. The Jews, therefore, answered, and said to him:  What sign dost
thou shew unto us, seeing thou dost these things?
2:19. Jesus answered and said to them:  Destroy this temple; and in
three days I will raise it up.
2:20. The Jews then said:  Six and forty years was this temple in
building; and wilt thou raise it up in three days?
2:21. But he spoke of the temple of his body.
2:22. When therefore he was risen again from the dead, his disciples
remembered that he had said this:  and they believed the scripture and
the word that Jesus had said.
2:23. Now when he was at Jerusalem, at the pasch, upon the festival
day, many believed in his name, seeing his signs which he did.
2:24. But Jesus did not trust himself unto them:  for that he knew all
2:25. And because he needed not that any should give testimony of man:
for he knew what was in man.
John Chapter 3
Christ's discourse with Nicodemus.  John's testimony.
3:1. And there was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of
3:2. This man came to Jesus by night and said to him:  Rabbi, we know
that thou art come a teacher from God; for no man can do these signs
which thou dost, unless God be with him.
3:3. Jesus answered and said to him:  Amen, amen, I say to thee, unless
a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
3:4. Nicodemus saith to him:  How can a man be born when he is old?  Can
he enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born again?
3:5. Jesus answered:  Amen, amen, I say to thee, unless a man be born
again of water and the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of
Unless a man be born again, etc. . .By these words our Saviour hath
declared the necessity of baptism; and by the word water it is evident
that the application of it is necessary with the words.  Matt. 28. 19.
3:6. That which is born of the flesh is flesh:  and that which is born
of the Spirit is spirit.
3:7. Wonder not that I said to thee:  You must be born again.
3:8. The Spirit breatheth where he will and thou hearest his voice:  but
thou knowest not whence he cometh and whither he goeth.  So is every one
that is born of the Spirit.
3:9. Nicodemus answered and said to him:  How can these things be done?
3:10. Jesus answered and said to him:  Art thou a master in Israel, and
knowest not these things?
3:11. Amen, amen, I say to thee that we speak what we know and we
testify what we have seen:  and you receive not our testimony.
3:12. If I have spoken to you earthly things, and you believe not:  how
will you believe, if I shall speak to you heavenly things?
3:13. And no man hath ascended into heaven, but he that descended from
heaven, the Son of man who is in heaven.
3:14. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son
of man be lifted up:
3:15. That whosoever believeth in him may not perish, but may have life
everlasting.
3:16. For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son:
that whosoever believeth in him may not perish, but may have life
everlasting.
3:17. For God sent not his Son into the world, to judge the world:  but
that the world may be saved by him.
3:18. He that believeth in him is not judged.  But he that doth not
believe is already judged:  because he believeth not in the name of the
only begotten Son of God.
Is not judged. . .He that believeth, viz., by a faith working through
charity, is not judged, that is, is not condemned; but the obstinate
unbeliever is judged, that is, condemned already, by retrenching
himself from the society of Christ and his church.
3:19. And this is the judgment:  Because the light is come into the
world and men loved darkness rather than the light:  for their works
The judgment. . .That is, the cause of his comdemnation.
3:20. For every one that doth evil hateth the light and cometh not to
the light, that his works may not be reproved.
3:21. But he that doth truth cometh to the light, that his works may be
made manifest:  because they are done in God.
He that doth truth. . .that is, he that acteth according to truth, which
here signifies the Law of God.  Thy law is truth.  Psa. 118. 142.
3:22. After these things, Jesus and his disciples came into the land of
Judea:  and there he abode with them and baptized.
3:23. And John also was baptizing in Ennon near Salim:  because there
was much water there.  And they came and were baptized.
3:24. For John was not yet cast into prison.
3:25. And there arose a question between some of John's disciples and
the Jews, concerning purification.
3:26. And they came to John and said to him:  Rabbi, he that was with
thee beyond the Jordan, to whom thou gavest testimony:  behold, he
baptizeth and all men come to him.
3:27. John answered and said:  A man cannot receive any thing, unless it
be given him from heaven.
3:28. You yourselves do bear me witness that I said that I am not
Christ, but that I am sent before him.
3:29. He that hath the bride is the bridegroom:  but the friend of the
bridegroom, who standeth and heareth Him, rejoiceth with joy because of
the bridegroom's voice.  This my joy therefore is fulfilled.
3:30. He must increase:  but I must decrease.
3:31. He that cometh from above is above all.  He that is of the earth,
of the earth he is, and of the earth he speaketh.  He that cometh from
heaven is above all.
3:32. And what he hath seen and heard, that he testifieth:  and no man
receiveth his testimony.
3:33. He that hath received his testimony hath set to his seal that God
3:34. For he whom God hath sent speaketh the words of God:  for God doth
not give the Spirit by measure.
3:35. The Father loveth the Son:  and he hath given all things into his
3:36. He that believeth in the Son hath life everlasting:  but he that
believeth not the Son shall not see life:  but the wrath of God abideth
John Chapter 4
Christ talks with the Samaritan woman.  He heals the ruler's son.
4:1. When Jesus therefore understood the Pharisees had heard that Jesus
maketh more disciples and baptizeth more than John
4:2. (Though Jesus himself did not baptize, but his disciples),
4:3. He left Judea and went again into Galilee.
4:4. And he was of necessity to pass through Samaria.
4:5. He cometh therefore to a city of Samaria, which is called Sichar,
near the land which Jacob gave to his son Joseph.
4:6. Now Jacob's well was there.  Jesus therefore, being wearied with
his journey, sat thus on the well.  It was about the sixth hour.
4:7. There cometh a woman of Samaria, to draw water.  Jesus saith to
her:  Give me to drink.
4:8. For his disciples were gone into the city to buy meats.
4:9. Then that Samaritan woman saith to him:  How dost thou, being a
Jew; ask of me to drink, who am a Samaritan woman?  For the Jews do not
communicate with the Samaritans.
4:10. Jesus answered and said to her:  If thou didst know the gift of
God and who he is that saith to thee:  Give me to drink; thou perhaps
wouldst have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.
4:11. The woman saith to him:  Sir, thou hast nothing wherein to draw,
and the well is deep.  From whence then hast thou living water?
4:12. Art thou greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and
drank thereof, himself and his children and his cattle?
4:13. Jesus answered and said to her:  Whosoever drinketh of this water
shall thirst again:  but he that shall drink of the water that I will
give him shall not thirst for ever.
4:14. But the water that I will give him shall become in him a fountain
of water, springing up into life everlasting.
4:15. The woman said to him:  Sir, give me this water, that I may not
thirst, nor come hither to draw.
4:16. Jesus saith to her:  Go, call thy husband, and come hither.
4:17. The woman answered and said:  I have no husband.  Jesus said to
her:  Thou hast said well:  I have no husband.
4:18. For thou hast had five husbands:  and he whom thou now hast is not
thy husband.  This, thou hast said truly.
4:19. The woman saith to him:  Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet.
4:20. Our fathers adored on this mountain:  and you say that at
Jerusalem is the place where men must adore.
This mountain. . .Garizim, where the Samaritans had their schismatical
4:21. Jesus saith to her:  Woman, believe me that the hour cometh, when
you shall neither on this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, adore the Father.
4:22. You adore that which you know not:  we adore that which we know.
For salvation is of the Jews.
4:23. But the hour cometh and now is, when the true adorers shall adore
the Father in spirit and in truth.  For the Father also seeketh such to
4:24. God is a spirit:  and they that adore him must adore him in spirit
and in truth.
4:25. The woman saith to him:  I know that the Messias cometh (who is
called Christ):  therefore, when he is come, he will tell us all things.
4:26. Jesus saith to her:  I am he, who am speaking with thee.
4:27. And immediately his disciples came.  And they wondered that he
talked with the woman.  Yet no man said:  What seekest thou?  Or:  Why
talkest thou with her?
4:28. The woman therefore left her waterpot and went her way into the
city and saith to the men there:
4:29. Come, and see a man who has told me all things whatsoever I have
done.  Is not he the Christ?
4:30. They went therefore out of the city and came unto him.
4:31. In the mean time, the disciples prayed him, saying:  Rabbi, eat.
4:32. But he said to them:  I have meat to eat which you know not.
4:33. The disciples therefore said one to another:  Hath any man brought
4:34. Jesus saith to them:  My meat is to do the will of him that sent
me, that I may perfect his work.
4:35. Do not you say:  There are yet four months, and then the harvest
cometh?  Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes, and see the countries.
For they are white already to harvest.
4:36. And he that reapeth receiveth wages and gathereth fruit unto life
everlasting:  that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice
4:37. For in this is the saying true:  That it is one man that soweth,
and it is another that reapeth.
4:38. I have sent you to reap that in which you did not labour.  Others
have laboured:  and you have entered into their labours.
4:39. Now of that city many of the Samaritans believed in him, for the
word of the woman giving testimony:  He told me all things whatsoever I
4:40. So when the Samaritans were come to him, they desired that he
would tarry there.  And he abode there two days.
4:41. And many more believed in him, because of his own word.
4:42. And they said to the woman:  We now believe, not for thy saying:
for we ourselves have heard him and know that this is indeed the
Saviour of the world.
4:43. Now after two days, he departed thence and went into Galilee.
4:44. For Jesus himself gave testimony that a prophet hath no honour in
his own country.
4:45. And when he was come into Galilee, the Galileans received him,
having seen all the things he had done at Jerusalem on the festival
day:  for they also went to the festival day.
4:46. He came again therefore into Cana of Galilee, where he made the
water wine.  And there was a certain ruler, whose son was sick at
4:47. He having heard that Jesus was come from Judea into Galilee, sent
to him and prayed him to come down and heal his son:  for he was at the
point of death.
4:48. Jesus therefore said to him:  Unless you see signs and wonders,
you believe not.
4:49. The ruler saith to him:  Lord, come down before that my son die.
4:50. Jesus saith to him:  Go thy way.  Thy son liveth.  The man believed
the word which Jesus said to him and went his way.
4:51. And as he was going down, his servants met him:  and they brought
word, saying, that his son lived.
4:52. He asked therefore of them the hour wherein he grew better.  And
they said to him:  Yesterday at the seventh hour, the fever left him.
4:53. The father therefore knew that it was at the same hour that Jesus
said to him:  Thy son liveth.  And himself believed, and his whole house.
4:54. This is again the second miracle that Jesus did, when he was come
out of Judea.  into Galilee.
John Chapter 5
Christ heals on the sabbath the man languishing thirty-eight years.  His
discourse upon this occasion.
5:1. After these things was a festival day of the Jews:  and Jesus went
up to Jerusalem.
5:2. Now there is at Jerusalem a pond, called Probatica, which in
Hebrew is named Bethsaida, having five porches.
Probatica. . .That is, the sheep pond; either so called, because the
sheep were washed therein, that were to be offered up in sacrifice in
the temple, or because it was near the sheep gate.  That this was a pond
where miracles were wrought is evident from the sacred text; and also
that the water had no natural virtue to heal, as one only of those put
in after the motion of the water was restored to health; for if the
water had the healing quality, the others would have the like benefit,
being put into it about the same time.
5:3. In these lay a great multitude of sick, of blind, of lame, of
withered:  waiting for the moving of the water.
5:4. And an angel of the Lord descended at certain times into the pond
and the water was moved.  And he that went down first into the pond
after the motion of the water was made whole of whatsoever infirmity he
5:5. And there was a certain man there that had been eight and thirty
years under his infirmity.
5:6. Him when Jesus had seen lying, and knew that he had been now a
long time, he saith to him:  Wilt thou be made whole?
5:7. The infirm man answered him:  Sir, I have no man, when the water is
troubled, to put me into the pond.  For whilst I am coming, another
goeth down before me.
5:8. Jesus saith to him:  Arise, take up thy bed and walk.
5:9. And immediately the man was made whole:  and he took up his bed and
walked.  And it was the sabbath that day.
5:10. The Jews therefore said to him that was healed:  It is the
sabbath.  It is not lawful for thee to take up thy bed.
5:11. He answered them:  He that made me whole, he said to me:  Take up
thy bed and walk.
5:12. They asked him therefore:  Who is that man who said to thee:  Take
up thy bed and walk?
5:13. But he who was healed knew not who it was:  for Jesus went aside
from the multitude standing in the place.
5:14. Afterwards, Jesus findeth him in the temple and saith to him:
Behold thou art made whole:  sin no more, lest some worse thing happen
5:15. The man went his way and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had
made him whole.
5:16. Therefore did the Jews persecute Jesus, because he did these
things on the sabbath.
5:17. But Jesus answered them:  My Father worketh until now; and I work.
5:18. Hereupon therefore the Jews sought the more to kill him, because
he did not only break the sabbath but also said God was his Father,
making himself equal to God.
5:19. Then Jesus answered and said to them:  Amen, amen, I say unto you,
the Son cannot do any thing of himself, but what he seeth the Father
doing:  for what things soever he doth, these the Son also doth in like
5:20. For the Father loveth the Son and sheweth him all things which
himself doth:  and greater works than these will he shew him, that you
5:21. For as the Father raiseth up the dead and giveth life:  so the Son
also giveth life to whom he will.
5:22. For neither does the Father judge any man:  but hath given all
judgment to the Son.
5:23. That all men may honour the Son, as they honour the Father.  He
who honoureth not the Son honoureth not the Father who hath sent him.
5:24. Amen, amen, I say unto you that he who heareth my word and
believeth him that sent me hath life everlasting:  and cometh not into
judgment, but is passed from death to life.
5:25. Amen, amen, I say unto you, that the hour cometh, and now is,
when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God:  and they that
hear shall live.
5:26. For as the Father hath life in himself, so he hath given to the
Son also to have life in himself.
5:27. And he hath given him power to do judgment, because he is the Son
5:28. Wonder not at this:  for the hour cometh wherein all that are in
the graves shall hear the voice of the Son of God.
5:29. And they that have done good things shall come forth unto the
resurrection of life:  but they that have done evil, unto the
resurrection of judgment.
Unto the resurrection of judgment. . .That is, condemnation.
5:30. I cannot of myself do any thing.  As I hear, so I judge.  And my
judgment is just:  because I seek not my own will.  but the will of him
that sent me.
5:31. If I bear witness of myself, my witness is not true.
5:32. There is another that beareth witness of me:  and I know that the
witness which he witnesseth of me is true.
5:33. You sent to John:  and he gave testimony to the truth.
5:34. But I receive not testimony from man:  but I say these things,
that you may be saved.
5:35. He was a burning and a shining light:  and you were willing for a
time to rejoice in his light.
5:36. But I have a greater testimony than that of John:  for the works
which the Father hath given me to perfect, the works themselves which I
do, give testimony of me, that the Father hath sent me.
5:37. And the Father himself who hath sent me hath given testimony of
me:  neither have you heard his voice at any time, nor seen his shape.
5:38. And you have not his word abiding in you:  for whom he hath sent,
him you believe not.
5:39. Search the scriptures:  for you think in them to have life
everlasting.  And the same are they that give testimony of me.
Or. . .You search the scriptures.  Scrutamini. . .It is not a command for
all to read the scriptures; but a reproach to the Pharisees, that
reading the scriptures as they did, and thinking to find everlasting
life in them, they would not receive him to whom all those scriptures
gave testimony, and through whom alone they could have that true life.
5:40. And you will not come to me that you may have life.
5:41. I receive not glory from men.
5:42. But I know you, that you have not the love of God in you.
5:43. I am come in the name of my Father, and you receive me not:  if
another shall come in his own name, him you will receive.
5:44. How can you believe, who receive glory one from another:  and the
glory which is from God alone, you do not seek?
5:45. Think not that I will accuse you to the Father.  There is one that
accuseth you, Moses, in whom you trust.
5:46. For if you did believe Moses, you would perhaps believe me also:
for he wrote of me.
5:47. But if you do not believe his writings, how will you believe my
John Chapter 6
Christ feeds five thousand with five loaves.  He walks upon the sea and
discourses of the bread of life.
6:1. After these things Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which is
that of Tiberias.
6:2. And a great multitude followed him, because they saw the miracles
which he did on them that were diseased.
6:3. Jesus therefore went up into a mountain:  and there he sat with his
6:4. Now the pasch, the festival day of the Jews, was near at hand.
6:5. When Jesus therefore had lifted up his eyes and seen that a very
great multitude cometh to him, he said to Philip:  Whence shall we buy
bread, that these may eat?
6:6. And this he said to try him:  for he himself knew what he would do.
6:7. Philip answered him:  Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not
sufficient for them that every one may take a little.
6:8. One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, saith to
6:9. There is a boy here that hath five barley loaves and two fishes.
But what are these among so many?
6:10. Then Jesus said:  Make the men sit down.  Now, there was much grass
in the place.  The men therefore sat down, in number about five
6:11. And Jesus took the loaves:  and when he had given thanks, he
distributed to them that were set down.  In like manner also of the
fishes, as much as they would.
6:12. And when they were filled, he said to his disciples:  gather up
the fragments that remain, lest they be lost.
6:13. They gathered up therefore and filled twelve baskets with the
fragments of the five barley loaves which remained over and above to
them that had eaten.
6:14. Now those men, when they had seen what a miracle Jesus had done,
said:  This is of a truth the prophet that is to come into the world.
6:15. Jesus therefore, when he knew that they would come to take him by
force and make him king, fled again into the mountains, himself alone.
6:16. And when evening was come, his disciples went down to the sea.
6:17. And when they had gone up into a ship, they went over the sea to
Capharnaum.  And it was now dark:  and Jesus was not come unto them.
6:18. And the sea arose, by reason of a great wind that blew.
6:19. When they had rowed therefore about five and twenty or thirty
furlongs, they see Jesus walking upon the sea and drawing nigh to the
ship.  And they were afraid.
6:20. But he saith to them:  It is I.  Be not afraid.
6:21. They were willing therefore to take him into the ship.  And
presently the ship was at the land to which they were going.
6:22. The next day, the multitude that stood on the other side of the
sea saw that there was no other ship there but one:  and that Jesus had
not entered into the ship with his disciples, but that his disciples
were gone away alone.
6:23. But other ships came in from Tiberias, nigh unto the place where
they had eaten the bread, the Lord giving thanks.
6:24. When therefore the multitude saw that Jesus was not there, nor
his disciples, they took shipping and came to Capharnaum, seeking for
6:25. And when they had found him on that other side of the sea, they
said to him:  Rabbi, when camest thou hither?
6:26. Jesus answered them and said:  Amen, amen, I say to you, you seek
me, not because you have seen miracles, but because you did eat of the
loaves and were filled.
6:27. Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that which
endureth unto life everlasting, which the Son of man will give you.  For
him hath God, the Father, sealed.
6:28. They said therefore unto him:  What shall we do, that we may work
the works of God?
6:29. Jesus answered and said to them:  This is the work of God, that
you believe in him whom he hath sent.
6:30. They said therefore to him:  What sign therefore dost thou shew
that we may see and may believe thee?  What dost thou work?
6:31. Our fathers did eat manna in the desert, as it is written:  He
gave them bread from heaven to eat.
6:32. Then Jesus said to them:  Amen, amen, I say to you; Moses gave you
not bread from heaven, but my Father giveth you the true bread from
6:33. For the bread of God is that which cometh down from heaven and
giveth life to the world.
6:34. They said therefore unto him:  Lord, give us always this bread.
6:35. And Jesus said to them:  I am the bread of life.  He that cometh to
me shall not hunger:  and he that believeth in me shall never thirst.
6:36. But I said unto you that you also have seen me, and you believe
6:37. All that the Father giveth to me shall come to me:  and him that
cometh to me, I will not cast out.
6:38. Because I came down from heaven, not to do my own will but the
will of him that sent me.
6:39. Now this is the will of the Father who sent me:  that of all that
he hath given me, I should lose nothing; but should raise it up again
in the last day.
6:40. And this is the will of my Father that sent me:  that every one
who seeth the Son and believeth in him may have life everlasting.  And I
will raise him up in the last day.
6:41. The Jews therefore murmured at him, because he had said:  I am the
living bread which came down from heaven.
6:42. And they said:  Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father
and mother we know?  How then saith he:  I came down from heaven?
6:43. Jesus therefore answered and said to them:  Murmur not among
6:44. No man can come to me, except the Father, who hath sent me, draw
him.  And I will raise him up in the last day.
Draw him. . .Not by compulsion, nor by laying the free will under any
necessity, but by the strong and sweet motions of his heavenly grace.
6:45. It is written in the prophets:  And they shall all be taught of
God.  Every one that hath heard of the Father and hath learned cometh
6:46. Not that any man hath seen the Father:  but he who is of God, he
hath seen the Father.
6:47. Amen, amen, I say unto you:  He that believeth in me hath
everlasting life.
6:48. I am the bread of life.
6:49. Your fathers did eat manna in the desert:  and are dead.
6:50. This is the bread which cometh down from heaven:  that if any man
eat of it, he may not die.
6:51. I am the living bread which came down from heaven.
6:52. If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever:  and the
bread that I will give is my flesh, for the life of the world.
6:53. The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying:  How can this
man give us his flesh to eat?
6:54. Then Jesus said to them:  Amen, amen, I say unto you:  except you
eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you shall not have
life in you.
Except you eat--and drink, etc. . .To receive the body and blood of
Christ, is a divine precept, insinuated in this text; which the
faithful fulfil, though they receive but in one kind; because in one
kind they receive both body and blood, which cannot be separated from
each other.  Hence, life eternal is here promised to the worthy
receiving, though but in one kind.  Ver. 52.  If any man eat of this
bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give, is my
flesh for the life of the world.  Ver. 58.  He that eateth me, the same
also shall live by me.  Ver. 59.  He that eateth this bread, shall liver
6:55. He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood hath everlasting
life:  and I will raise him up in the last day.
6:56. For my flesh is meat indeed:  and my blood is drink indeed.
6:57. He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood abideth in me:  and
6:58. As the living Father hath sent me and I live by the Father:  so he
that eateth me, the same also shall live by me.
6:59. This is the bread that came down from heaven.  Not as your fathers
did eat manna and are dead.  He that eateth this bread shall live for
6:60. These things he said, teaching in the synagogue, in Capharnaum.
6:61. Many therefore of his disciples, hearing it, said:  This saying is
hard; and who can hear it?
6:62. But Jesus, knowing in himself that his disciples murmured at
this, said to them:  Doth this scandalize you?
6:63. If then you shall see the Son of man ascend up where he was
If then you shall see, etc. . .Christ by mentioning his ascension, by
this instance of his power and divinity, would confirm the truth of
what he had before asserted; and at the same time correct their gross
apprehension of eating his flesh, and drinking his blood, in a vulgar
and carnal manner, by letting them know he should take his whole body
living with him to heaven; and consequently not suffer it to be as they
supposed, divided, mangled, and consumed upon earth.
6:64. It is the spirit that quickeneth:  the flesh profiteth nothing.
The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.
The flesh profiteth nothing. . .Dead flesh separated from the spirit, in
the gross manner they supposed they were to eat his flesh, would profit
nothing.  Neither doth man's flesh, that is to say, man's natural and
carnal apprehension, (which refuses to be subject to the spirit, and
words of Christ,) profit any thing.  But it would be the height of
blasphemy, to say the living flesh of Christ (which we receive in the
blessed sacarament, with his spirit, that is, with his soul and
divinity) profiteth nothing.  For if Christ's flesh had profitedus
nothing, he would never have taken flesh for us, nor died in us
nothing, he would never have taken flesh for us, nor died in the flesh
for us.  Are spirit and life. . .By proposing to you a heavenly
sacrament, in which you shall receive, in a wonderful manner, spirit,
grace, and life, in its very fountain.
6:65. But there are some of you that believe not.  For Jesus knew from
the beginning who they were that did not believe and who he was that
would betray him.
6:66. And he said:  Therefore did I say to you that no man can come to
me, unless it be given him by my Father.
6:67. After this, many of his disciples went back and walked no more
6:68. Then Jesus said to the twelve:  Will you also go away?
6:69. And Simon Peter answered him:  Lord, to whom shall we go?  Thou
hast the words of eternal life.
6:70. And we have believed and have known that thou art the Christ, the
6:71. Jesus answered them:  Have not I chosen you twelve?  And one of you
6:72. Now he meant Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon:  for this same was
about to betray him, whereas he was one of the twelve.
John Chapter 7
Christ goes up to the feast of the tabernacles.  He teaches in the
7:1. After these things, Jesus walked in Galilee:  for he would not walk
in Judea, because the Jews sought to kill him.
7:2. Now the Jews feast of tabernacles was at hand.
7:3. And his brethren said to, him:  Pass from hence and go into Judea,
that thy disciples also may see thy works which thou dost.
7:4. For there is no man that doth any thing in secret, and he himself
seeketh to be known openly.  If thou do these things, manifest thyself
to the world.
7:5. For neither did his brethren believe in him.
7:6. Then Jesus said to them:  My time is not yet come; but your time is
always ready.
7:7. The world cannot hate you:  but me it hateth, because I give
testimony of it, that the works thereof are evil,
7:8. Go you up to this festival day:  but I go not up to this festival
day, because my time is not accomplished.
7:9. When he had said these things, he himself stayed in Galilee.
7:10. But after his brethren were gone up, then he also went up to the
feast, not openly, but, as it were, in secret.
7:11. The Jews therefore sought him on the festival day and said:  Where
7:12. And there was much murmuring among the multitude concerning him.
For some said:  He is a good man.  And others said:  No, but he seduceth
7:13. Yet no man spoke openly of him, for fear of the Jews.
7:14. Now, about the midst of the feast, Jesus went up into the temple
7:15. And the Jews wondered, saying:  How doth this man know letters,
having never learned?
7:16. Jesus answered them and said:  My doctrine is not mine, but his
that sent me.
7:17. If any man will do the will of him, he shall know of the
doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.
7:18. He that speaketh of himself seeketh his own glory:  but he that
seeketh the glory of him that sent him, he is true and there is no
injustice in him.
7:19. Did not Moses give you the law, and yet none of you keepeth the
7:20. Why seek you to kill me?  The multitude answered and said:  Thou
hast a devil.  Who seeketh to kill thee?
7:21. Jesus answered and said to them:  One work I have done:  and you
7:22. Therefore, Moses gave you circumcision (not because it is of
Moses, but of the fathers):  and on the sabbath day you circumcise a
7:23. If a man receive circumcision on the sabbath day, that the law of
Moses may not be broken:  are you angry at me, because I have healed the
whole man on the sabbath day?
7:24. Judge not according to the appearance:  but judge just judgment.
7:25. Some therefore of Jerusalem said:  Is not this he whom they seek
7:26. And behold, he speaketh openly:  and they say nothing to him.  Have
the rulers known for a truth that this is the Christ?
7:27. But we know this man, whence he is:  but when the Christ cometh,
no man knoweth, whence he is.
7:28. Jesus therefore cried out in the temple, teaching and saying:  You
both know me, and you know whence I am.  And I am not come of myself:
but he that sent me is true, whom you know not.
7:29. I know him, because I am from him:  and he hath sent me.
7:30. They sought therefore to apprehend him:  and no man laid hands on
him, because his hour was not yet come.
7:31. But of the people many believed in him and said:  When the Christ
cometh, shall he do more miracles than this man doth?
7:32. The Pharisees heard the people murmuring these things concerning
him:  and the rulers and Pharisees sent ministers to apprehend him.
7:33. Jesus therefore said to them:  Yet a little while I am with you:
and then I go to him that sent me.
7:34. You shall seek me and shall not find me:  and where I am, thither
you cannot come.
7:35. The Jews therefore said among themselves:  Whither will he go,
that we shall not find him?  Will he go unto the dispersed among the
Gentiles and teach the Gentiles?
7:36. What is this saying that he hath said:  You shall seek me and
shall not find me?  And:  Where I am, you cannot come?
7:37. And on the last, and great day of the festivity, Jesus stood and
cried, saying:  If any man thirst, let him come to me and drink.
7:38. He that believeth in me, as the scripture saith:  Out of his belly
shall flow rivers of living water.
7:39. Now this he said of the Spirit which they should receive who
believed in him:  for as yet the Spirit was not given, because Jesus was
not yet glorified.
7:40. Of that multitude therefore, when they had heard these words of
his, some said:  This is the prophet indeed.
7:41. Others said:  This is the Christ.  But some said:  Doth the Christ
come out of Galilee?
7:42. Doth not the scripture say:  That Christ cometh of the seed of
David and from Bethlehem the town where David was?
7:43. So there arose a dissension among the people because of him.
7:44. And some of them would have apprehended him:  but no man laid
hands upon him.
7:45. The ministers therefore came to the chief priests and the
Pharisees.  And they said to them:  Why have you not brought him?
7:46. The ministers answered:  Never did man speak like this man.
7:47. The Pharisees therefore answered them:  Are you also seduced?
7:48. Hath any one of the rulers believed in him, or of the Pharisees?
7:49. But this multitude, that knoweth not the law, are accursed.
7:50. Nicodemus said to them (he that came to him by night, who was one
7:51. Doth our law judge any man, unless it first hear him and know
what he doth?
7:52. They answered and said to him:  Art thou also a Galilean?  Search
the scriptures, and see that out of Galilee a prophet riseth not.
7:53. And every man returned to his own house.
John Chapter 8
The woman taken in adultery.  Christ justifies his doctrine.
8:1. And Jesus went unto mount Olivet.
8:2. And early in the morning he came again into the temple:  and all
the people came to him.  And sitting down he taught them.
8:3. And the scribes and Pharisees bring unto him a woman taken in
adultery:  and they set her in the midst,
8:4. And said to him:  Master, this woman was even now taken in
8:5. Now Moses in the law commanded us to stone such a one.  But what
sayest thou?
8:6. And this they said tempting him, that they might accuse him.  But
Jesus bowing himself down, wrote with his finger on the ground.
8:7. When therefore they continued asking him, he lifted up himself and
said to them:  He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a
stone at her.
8:8. And again stooping down, he wrote on the ground.
8:9. But they hearing this, went out one by one, beginning at the
eldest.  And Jesus alone remained, and the woman standing in the midst.
8:10. Then Jesus lifting up himself, said to her:  Woman, where are they
that accused thee?  Hath no man condemned thee?
8:11. Who said:  No man, Lord.  And Jesus said:  Neither will I condemn
thee.  Go, and now sin no more.
8:12. Again therefore, Jesus spoke to:  them, saying:  I am the light of
the world.  He that followeth me walketh not in darkness, but shall have
the light of life.
8:13. The Pharisees therefore said to him:  Thou givest testimony of
thyself.  Thy testimony is not true.
8:14. Jesus answered and said to them:  Although I give testimony of
myself, my testimony is true:  for I know whence I came and whither I
8:15. You judge according to the flesh:  I judge not any man.
8:16. And if I do judge, my judgment is true:  because I am not alone,
but I and the Father that sent me.
8:17. And in your law it is written that the testimony of two men is
8:18. I am one that give testimony of myself:  and the Father that sent
me giveth testimony of me.
8:19. They said therefore to him:  Where is thy Father?  Jesus answered:
Neither me do you know, nor my Father.  If you did know me, perhaps you
would know my Father also.
8:20. These words Jesus spoke in the treasury, teaching in the temple:
and no man laid hands on him, because his hour was not yet come.
8:21. Again therefore Jesus said to them:  I go:  and you shall seek me.
And you shall die in your sin.  Whither I go, you cannot come.
8:22. The Jews therefore said:  Will he kill himself, because he said:
Whither I go you cannot come?
8:23. And he said to them:  You are from beneath:  I am from above.  You
are of this world:  I am not of this world.
8:24. Therefore I said to you that you shall die in your sins.  For if
you believe not that I am he, you shall die in your sin.
8:25. They said therefore to him:  Who art thou?  Jesus said to them:
The beginning, who also speak unto you.
8:26. Many things I have to speak and to judge of you.  But he that sent
me, is true:  and the things I have heard of him, these same I speak in
8:27. And they understood not that he called God his Father.
8:28. Jesus therefore said to them:  When you shall have lifted up, the
Son of man, then shall you know that I am he and that I do nothing of
myself.  But as the Father hath taught me, these things I speak.
8:29. And he that sent me is with me:  and he hath not left me alone.
For I do always the things that please him.
8:30. When he spoke these things, many believed in him.
8:31. Then Jesus said to those Jews who believed him:  If you continue
in my word, you shall be my disciples indeed.
8:32. And you shall know the truth:  and the truth shall make you free.
8:33. They answered him:  We are the seed of Abraham:  and we have never
been slaves to any man.  How sayest thou:  You shall be free?
8:34. Jesus answered them:  Amen, amen, I say unto you that whosoever
committeth sin is the servant of sin.
8:35. Now the servant abideth not in the house for ever:  but the son
abideth for ever.
8:36. If therefore the son shall make you free, you shall be free
8:37. I know that you are the children of Abraham:  but you seek to kill
me, because my word hath no place in you.
8:38. I speak that which I have seen with my Father:  and you do the
things that you have seen with your father.
8:39. They answered and said to him:  Abraham is our father.  Jesus saith
them:  If you be the children of Abraham, do the works of Abraham.
8:40. But now you seek to kill me, a man who have spoken the truth to
you, which I have heard of God.  This Abraham did not.
8:41. You do the works of your father.  They said therefore to him:  We
are not born of fornication:  we have one Father, even God.
8:42. Jesus therefore said to them:  If God were your Father, you would
indeed love me.  For from God I proceeded and came.  For I came not of
myself:  but he sent me.
8:43. Why do you not know my speech?  Because you cannot hear my word.
8:44. You are of your father the devil:  and the desires of your father
you will do.  He was a murderer from the beginning:  and he stood not in
the truth, because truth is not in him.  When he speaketh a lie, he
speaketh of his own:  for he is a liar, and the father thereof.
8:45. But if I say the truth, you believe me not.
8:46. Which of you shall convince me of sin?  If I say the truth to you,
why do you not believe me:
8:47. He that is of God heareth the words of God.  Therefore you hear
them not, because you are not of God.
8:48. The Jews therefore answered and said to him:  Do not we say well
that thou art a Samaritan and hast a devil?
8:49. Jesus answered:  I have not a devil:  but I honour my Father.  And
you have dishonoured me.
8:50. But I seek not my own glory:  there is one that seeketh and
8:51. Amen, amen, I say to you:  If any man keep my word, he shall not
see death for ever.
8:52. The Jews therefore said:  Now we know that thou hast a devil.
Abraham is dead, and the prophets:  and thou sayest:  If any man keep my
word, he shall not taste death for ever.
8:53. Art thou greater than our father Abraham who is dead?  And the
prophets are dead.  Whom dost thou make thyself?
8:54. Jesus answered:  If I glorify myself, my glory is nothing.  It is
my Father that glorifieth me, of whom you say that he is your God.
8:55. And you have not known him:  but I know him.  And if I shall say
that I know him not, I shall be like to you, a liar.  But I do know him
and do keep his word.
8:56. Abraham your father rejoiced that he might see my day:  he saw it
and was glad.
8:57. The Jews therefore said to him:  Thou art not yet fifty years old.
And hast thou seen Abraham?
8:58. Jesus said to them:  Amen, amen, I say to you, before Abraham was
8:59. They took up stones therefore to cast at him.  But Jesus hid
himself and went out of the temple.
John Chapter 9
He gives sight to the man born blind.
9:1. And Jesus passing by, saw a man who was blind from his birth.
9:2. And his disciples asked him:  Rabbi, who hath sinned, this man or
his parents, that he should be born blind?
9:3. Jesus answered:  Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents; but
that the works of God should be made manifest in him.
9:4. I must work the works of him that sent me, whilst it is day:  the
night cometh, when no man can work.
9:5. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.
9:6. When he had said these things, he spat on the ground and made clay
of the spittle and spread the clay upon his eyes,
9:7. And said to him:  Go, wash in the pool of Siloe, which is
interpreted, Sent.  He went therefore and washed:  and he came seeing.
9:8. The neighbours, therefore, and they who had seen him before that
he was a beggar, said:  Is not this he that sat and begged?  Some said:
9:9. But others said:  No, but he is like him.  But he said:  I am he.
9:10. They said therefore to him:  How were thy eyes opened?
9:11. He answered:  That man that is called Jesus made clay and anointed
my eyes and said to me:  Go to the pool of Siloe and wash.  And I went:
I washed:  and I see.
9:12. And they said to him:  Where is he?  He saith:  I know not.
9:13. They bring him that had been blind to the Pharisees.
9:14. Now it was the sabbath, when Jesus made the clay and opened his
9:15. Again therefore the Pharisees asked him how he had received his
sight.  But he said to them:  He put clay upon my eyes:  and I washed:
9:16. Some therefore of the Pharisees said:  This man is not of God, who
keepeth not the sabbath.  But others said:  How can a man that is a
sinner do such miracles?  And there was a division among them.
9:17. They say therefore to the blind man again:  What sayest thou of
him that hath opened thy eyes?  And he said:  He is a prophet.
9:18. The Jews then did not believe concerning him, that he had been
blind and had received his sight, until they called the parents of him
that had received his sight,
9:19. And asked them, saying:  Is this your son, who you say was born
blind?  How then doth he now see?
9:20. His parents answered them and said:  We know that this is our son
and that he was born blind:
9:21. But how he now seeth, we know not:  or who hath opened his eyes,
we know not.  Ask himself:  he is of age:  Let him speak for himself.
9:22. These things his parents said, because they feared the Jews:  for
the Jews had already agreed among themselves that if any man should
confess him to be Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue.
9:23. Therefore did his parents say:  He is of age.  Ask himself.
9:24. They therefore called the man again that had been blind and said
to him:  Give glory to God.  We know that this man is a sinner.
9:25. He said therefore to them:  If he be a sinner, I know not.  One
thing I know, that whereas I was blind.  now I see.
9:26. They said then to him:  What did he to thee?  How did he open thy
9:27. He answered them:  I have told you already, and you have heard.
Why would you hear it again?  Will you also become his disciples?
9:28. They reviled him therefore and said:  Be thou his disciple; but we
are the disciples of Moses.
9:29. We know that God spoke to Moses:  but as to this man, we know not
from whence he is.
9:30. The man answered and said to them:  why, herein is a wonderful
thing, that you know not from whence he is, and he hath opened my eyes.
9:31. Now we know that God doth not hear sinners:  but if a man be a
server of God and doth his, will, him he heareth.
9:32. From the beginning of the world it hath not been heard, that any
man hath opened the eyes of one born blind.
9:33. Unless this man were of God, he could not do anything.
9:34. They answered and said to him:  Thou wast wholly born in sins; and
dost thou teach us?  And they cast him out.
9:35. Jesus heard that they had cast him out.  And when he had found
him, he said to him:  Dost thou believe in the Son of God?
9:36. He answered, and said:  Who is he, Lord, that I may believe in
9:37. And Jesus said to him:  Thou hast both seen him; and it is he that
talketh with thee.
9:38. And he said:  I believe, Lord.  And falling down, he adored him.
9:39. And Jesus said:  For judgment I am come into this world:  that they
who see not may see; and they who see may become blind.
I am come, etc. . .Not that Christ came for that end, that any one
should be made blind:  but that the Jews, by the abuse of his coming,
and by their not receiving him, brought upon themselves this judgment
of blindness.
9:40. And some of the Pharisees, who were with him, heard:  and they
said unto him:  Are we also blind?
9:41. Jesus said to them:  If you were blind, you should not have sin:
but now you say:  We see.  Your sin remaineth.
If you were blind, etc. . .If you were invincibly ignorant, and had
neither read the scriptures, nor seen my miracles, you would not be
guilty of the sin of infidelity:  but now, as you boast of your
knowledge of the scriptures, you are inexcusable.
John Chapter 10
Christ is the door and the good shepherd.  He and his Father are one.
10:1. Amen, amen, I say to you:  He that entereth not by the door into
the sheepfold but climbeth up another way, the same is a thief and a
10:2. But he that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep.
10:3. To him the porter openeth:  and the sheep hear his voice.  And he
calleth his own sheep by name and leadeth them out.
10:4. And when he hath let out his own sheep, he goeth before them:  and
the sheep follow him, because they know his voice.
10:5. But a stranger they follow not, but fly from him, because they
know not the voice of strangers.
10:6. This proverb Jesus spoke to them.  But they understood not what he
10:7. Jesus therefore said to them again:  Amen, amen, I say to you, I
am the door of the sheep.
10:8. All others, as many as have come, are thieves and robbers:  and
the sheep heard them not.
10:9. I am the door.  By me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved:  and
he shall go in and go out, and shall find pastures.
10:10. The thief cometh not, but for to steal and to kill and to
destroy.  I am come that they may have life and may have it more
10:11. I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd giveth his life for
10:12. But the hireling and he that is not the shepherd, whose own the
sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming and leaveth the sheep and flieth:
and the wolf casteth and scattereth the sheep,
10:13. And the hireling flieth, because he is a hireling:  and he hath
no care for the sheep.
10:14. I am the good shepherd:  and I know mine, and mine know me.
10:15. As the Father knoweth me, and I know the Father:  and I lay down
my life for my sheep.
10:16. And other sheep I have that are not of this fold:  them also I
must bring.  And they shall hear my voice:  And there shall be one fold
and one shepherd.
10:17. Therefore doth the Father love me:  because I lay down my life,
that I may take it again.
10:18. No man taketh it away from me:  but I lay it down of myself.  And
I have power to lay it down:  and I have power to take it up again.  This
commandment have I received of my Father.
10:19. A dissension rose again among the Jews for these words.
10:20. And many of them said:  He hath a devil and is mad.  Why hear you
10:21. Others said:  These are not the words of one that hath a devil.
Can a devil open the eyes of the blind?
10:22. And it was the feast of the dedication at Jerusalem:  and it was
10:23. And Jesus walked in the temple, in Solomon's porch.
10:24. The Jews therefore came round about him and said to him:  How
long dost thou hold our souls in suspense?  If thou be the Christ, tell
10:25. Jesus answered them:  I speak to you, and you believe not:  the
works that I do in the name of my Father, they give testimony of me.
10:26. But you do not believe, because you are not of my sheep.
10:27. My sheep hear my voice.  And I know them:  and they follow me.
10:28. And I give them life everlasting:  and they shall not perish for
ever.  And no man shall pluck them out of my hand.
10:29. That which my Father hath given me is greater than all:  and no
one can snatch them out of the hand of my Father.
10:30. I and the Father are one.
I and the Father are one. . .That is, one divine nature, but two
distinct persons.
10:31. The Jews then took up stones to stone him.
10:32. Jesus answered them:  Many good works I have shewed you from my
Father.  For which of those works do you stone me?
10:33. The Jews answered him:  For a good work we stone thee not, but
for blasphemy:  and because that thou.  being a, man, makest thyself God.
10:34. Jesus answered them:  Is it not written in your law:  I said, you
10:35. If he called them gods to whom the word of God was spoken; and
the scripture cannot be broken:
10:36. Do you say of him whom the Father hath sanctified and sent into
the world:  Thou blasphemest; because I said:  I am the Son of God?
10:37. If I do not the works of my Father, believe me not.
10:38. But if I do, though you will not believe me, believe the works:
that you may know and believe that the Father is in me and I in the
10:39. They sought therefore to take him:  and he escaped out of their
10:40. And he went again beyond the Jordan, into that place where John
was baptizing first.  And there he abode.
10:41. And many resorted to him:  and they said:  John indeed did no
10:42. But all things whatsoever John said of this man were true.  And
many believed n him.
John Chapter 11
Christ raises Lazarus to life.  The rulers resolve to put him to death.
11:1. Now there was a certain man sick, named Lazarus, of Bethania, of
the town of Mary and of Martha her sister.
11:2. (And Mary was she that anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped
his feet with her hair:  whose brother Lazarus was sick.)
11:3. His sisters therefore sent to him, saying:  Lord, behold, he whom
thou lovest is sick.
11:4. And Jesus hearing it, said to them:  This sickness is not unto
death, but for the glory of God:  that the Son of God may be glorified
11:5. Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister Mary and Lazarus.
11:6. When he had heard therefore that he was sick, he still remained
in the same place two days.
11:7. Then after that, he said to his disciples:  Let us go into Judea
11:8. The disciples say to him:  Rabbi, the Jews but now sought to stone
thee.  And goest thou thither again?
11:9. Jesus answered:  Are there not twelve hours of the day?  If a man
walk in the day he stumbleth not, because he seeth the light of this
11:10. But if he walk in the night, he stumbleth, because the light is
11:11. These things he said; and after that he said to them:  Lazarus
our friend sleepeth:  but I go that I may awake him out of sleep.
11:12. His disciples therefore said:  Lord, if he sleep, he shall do
11:13. But Jesus spoke of his death:  and they thought that he spoke of
the repose of sleep.
11:14. Then therefore Jesus said to them plainly:  Lazarus is dead.
11:15. And I am glad, for your sakes; that I was not there, that you
may believe.  But, let us go to him.
11:16. Thomas therefore, who is called Didymus, said to his fellow
disciples:  Let us also go, that we may die with him.
11:17. Jesus therefore came:  and found that he had been four days
already in the grave.
11:18. (Now Bethania was near Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off.)
11:19. And many of the Jews were come to Martha and Mary, to comfort
them concerning their brother.
11:20. Martha therefore, as soon as she heard that Jesus was come, went
to meet him:  but Mary sat at home.
11:21. Martha therefore said to Jesus:  Lord, if thou hadst been here,
my brother had not died.
11:22. But now also I know that whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God
will give it thee.
11:23. Jesus saith to her:  Thy brother shall rise again.
11:24. Martha saith to him:  I know that he shall rise again, in the
resurrection at the last day.
11:25. Jesus said to her:  I am the resurrection and the life:  he that
believeth in me, although he be dead, shall live:
11:26. And every one that liveth and believeth in me shall not die for
ever.  Believest thou this?
11:27. She saith to him:  Yea, Lord, I have believed that thou art
Christ, the Son of the living God, who art come into this world.
11:28. And when she had said these things, she went and called her
sister Mary secretly, saying:  The master is come and calleth for thee.
11:29. She, as soon as she heard this, riseth quickly and cometh to
11:30. For Jesus was not yet come into the town:  but he was still in
that place where Martha had met him.
11:31. The Jews therefore, who were with her in the house and comforted
her, when they saw Mary, that she rose up speedily and went out,
followed her, saying:  She goeth to the grave to weep there.
11:32. When Mary therefore was come where Jesus was, seeing him, she
fell down at his feet and saith to him.  Lord, if thou hadst been here,
my brother had not died.
11:33. Jesus, therefore, when he saw her weeping, and the Jews that
were come with her weeping, groaned in the spirit and troubled himself,
11:34. And said:  Where have you laid him?  They say to him:  Lord, come
11:35. And Jesus wept.
11:36. The Jews therefore said:  Behold how he loved him.
11:37. But some of them said:  Could not he that opened the eyes of the
man born blind have caused that this man should not die?
11:38. Jesus therefore again groaning in himself, cometh to the
sepulchre.  Now it was a cave; and a stone was laid over it.
11:39. Jesus saith:  Take away the stone.  Martha, the sister of him that
was dead, saith to him:  Lord, by this time he stinketh, for he is now
of four days.
11:40. Jesus saith to her:  Did not I say to thee that if thou believe,
thou shalt see the glory of God?
11:41. They took therefore the stone away.  And Jesus lifting up his
eyes, said:  Father, I give thee thanks that thou hast heard me.
11:42. And I knew that thou hearest me always:  but because of the
people who stand about have I said it, that they may believe that thou
hast sent me.
11:43. When he had said these things, he cried with a loud voice:
Lazarus, come forth.
11:44. And presently he that had been dead came forth, bound feet and
hands with winding bands.  And his face was bound about with a napkin.
Jesus said to them:  Loose him and let him go.
11:45. Many therefore of the Jews, who were come to Mary and Martha and
had seen the things that Jesus did, believed in him.
11:46. But some of them went to the Pharisees and told them the things
that Jesus had done.
11:47. The chief priests, therefore, and the Pharisees gathered a
council and said:  What do we, for this man doth many miracles?
11:48. If we let him alone so, all will believe in him; and the Romans
will come, and take away our place and nation.
11:49. But one of them, named Caiphas, being the high priest that year,
said to them:  You know nothing.
11:50. Neither do you consider that it is expedient for you that one
man should die for the people and that the whole nation perish not.
11:51. And this he spoke not of himself:  but being the high priest of
that year, he prophesied that Jesus should die for the nation.
11:52. And not only for the nation, but to gather together in one the
children of God that were dispersed.
11:53. From that day therefore they devised to put him to death.
11:54. Wherefore Jesus walked no more openly among the Jews:  but he
went into a country near the desert, unto a city that is called Ephrem.
And there he abode with his disciples.
11:55. And the pasch of the Jews was at hand:  and many from the country
went up to Jerusalem, before the pasch, to purify themselves.
11:56. They sought therefore for Jesus; and they discoursed one with
another, standing in the temple:  What think you that he is not come to
the festival day?  And the chief priests and Pharisees had given a
commandment that, if any man knew where he was, he should tell, that
they might apprehend him.
John Chapter 12
The anointing of Christ's feet.  His riding into Jerusalem upon an ass.
A voice from heaven.
12:1. Jesus therefore, six days before the pasch, came to Bethania,
where Lazarus had been dead, whom Jesus raised to life.
12:2. And they made him a supper there:  and Martha served.  But Lazarus
was one of them that were at table with him.
12:3. Mary therefore took a pound of ointment of right spikenard, of
great price, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her
hair.  And the house was filled with the odour of the ointment.
12:4. Then one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, he that was about to
betray him, said:
12:5. Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence and given
to the poor?
12:6. Now he said this not because he cared for the poor; but because
he was a thief and, having the purse, carried the things that were put
12:7. Jesus therefore said:  Let her alone, that she may keep it against
the day of my burial.
12:8. For the poor you have always with you:  but me you have not
See the annotation of St. Matt. 26. 11.
12:9. A great multitude therefore of the Jews knew that he was there;
and they came, not for Jesus' sake only, but that they might see
Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.
12:10. But the chief priests thought to kill Lazarus also:
12:11. Because many of the Jews, by reason of him, went away and
believed in Jesus.
12:12. And on the next day, a great multitude that was come to the
festival day, when they had heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem,
12:13. Took branches of palm trees and went forth to meet him and cried
Hosanna.  Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord, the king of
12:14. And Jesus found a young ass and sat upon it, as it is written:
12:15. Fear not, daughter of Sion:  behold thy king cometh, sitting on
an ass's colt.
12:16. These things his disciples did not know at the first:  but when
Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things were
written of him and that they had done these things to him.
12:17. The multitude therefore gave testimony, which was with him, when
he called Lazarus out of the grave and raised him from the dead.
12:18. For which reason also the people came to meet him, because they
heard that he had done this miracle.
12:19. The Pharisees therefore said among themselves:  Do you see that
we prevail nothing?  Behold, the whole world is gone after him.
12:20. Now there were certain Gentiles among them, who came up to adore
on the festival day.
12:21. These therefore came to Philip, who was of Bethsaida of Galilee,
and desired him, saying:  Sir, we would see Jesus.
12:22. Philip cometh and telleth Andrew.  Again Andrew and Philip told
12:23. But Jesus answered them, saying:  The hour is come that the Son
of man should be glorified.
12:24. Amen, amen, I say to you, unless the grain of wheat falling into
the ground die,
12:25. Itself remaineth alone.  But if it die it bringeth forth much
fruit.  He that loveth his life shall lose it and he that hateth his
life in this world keepeth it unto life eternal.
12:26. If any man minister to me, let him follow me:  and where I am,
there also shall my minister be.  If any man minister to me, him will my
Father honour.
12:27. Now is my soul troubled.  And what shall I say?  Father, save me
from this hour.  But for this cause I came unto this hour.
12:28. Father, glorify thy name.  A voice therefore came from heaven:  I
have both glorified it and will glorify it again.
12:29. The multitude therefore that stood and heard said that it
thundered.  Others said:  An angel spoke to him.
12:30. Jesus answered and said:  This voice came not because of me, but
for your sakes.
12:31. Now is the judgment of the world:  now shall the prince of this
world be cast out.
12:32. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all things to
12:33. (Now this he said, signifying what death he should die.)
12:34. The multitude answered him:  We have heard out of the law that
Christ abideth for ever.  And how sayest thou:  The Son of man must be
lifted up?  Who is this Son of man?
12:35. Jesus therefore said to them:  Yet a little while, the light is
among you.  Walk whilst you have the light, and the darkness overtake
you not.  And he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither be goeth.
12:36. Whilst you have the light, believe in the light, that you may be
the children of light.  These things Jesus spoke:  and he went away and
hid himself from them.
12:37. And whereas he had done so many miracles before them, they
believed not in him:
12:38. That the saying of Isaias the prophet might be fulfilled, which
he said:  Lord, who hath believed our hearing?  And to whom hath the arm
of the Lord been revealed?
12:39. Therefore they could not believe, because Isaias said again:
They could not believe. . .Because they would not, saith St. Augustine,
Tract. 33, in Joan.  See the annotation, St. Mark 4. 12.
12:40. He hath blinded their eyes and hardened their heart, that they
should not see with their eyes, nor understand with their heart and be
converted:  and I should heal them.
12:41. These things said Isaias, when he saw his glory, and spoke of
12:42. However, many of the chief men also believed in him:  but because
of the Pharisees they did not confess him, that they might not be cast
out of the synagogue.
12:43. For they loved the glory of men more than the glory of God.
12:44. But Jesus cried and said:  He that believeth in me doth not
believe in me, but in him that sent me.
12:45. And he that seeth me, seeth him that sent me.
12:46. I am come, a light into the world, that whosoever believeth in
me may not remain in darkness.
12:47. And if any man hear my words and keep them not, I do not judge
him for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world.
12:48. He that despiseth me and receiveth not my words hath one that
judgeth him.  The word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in
the last day.
12:49. For I have not spoken of myself:  but the Father who sent me, he
gave me commandment what I should say and what I should speak.
12:50. And I know that his commandment is life everlasting.  The things
therefore that I speak, even as the Father said unto me, so do I speak.
John Chapter 13
Christ washes his disciples' feet.  The treason of Judas.  The new
commandment of love.
13:1. Before the festival day of the pasch, Jesus knowing that his hour
was come, that he should pass out of this world to the Father:  having
loved his own who were in the world, he loved them unto the end.
Before the festival day of the pasch. . .This was the fourth and last
pasch of the ministry of Christ, and according to the common
computation, was in the thirty-third year of our Lord:  and in the year
of the world 4036.  Some chronologers are of opinion that our Saviour
suffered in the thirty-seventh year of his age:  but these different
opinions on this subject are of no consequence.
13:2. And when supper was done (the devil having now put into the heart
of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon, to betray him),
13:3. Knowing that the Father had given him all things into his hands
and that he came from God and goeth to God,
13:4. He riseth from supper and layeth aside his garments and, having
taken a towel, girded himself.
13:5. After that, he putteth water into a basin and began to wash the
feet of the disciples and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was
13:6. He cometh therefore to Simon Peter.  And Peter saith to him:  Lord,
dost thou wash my feet?
13:7. Jesus answered and said to him:  What I do, thou knowest not now;
but thou shalt know hereafter.
13:8. Peter saith to him:  Thou shalt never wash my feet, Jesus answered
him:  If I wash thee not, thou shalt have no part with me.
13:9. Simon Peter saith to him:  Lord, not only my feet, but also my
hands and my head.
13:10. Jesus saith to him:  He that is washed needeth not but to wash
his feet, but is clean wholly.  And you are clean, but not all.
13:11. For he knew who he was that would betray him; therefore he said:
You are not all clean.
13:12. Then after he had washed their feet and taken his garments,
being set down again, he said to them:  Know you what I have done to
13:13. You call me Master and Lord.  And you say well:  for so I am.
13:14. If then I being your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; you
also ought to wash one another's feet.
13:15. For I have given you an example, that as I have done to you, so
you do also.
13:16. Amen, amen, I say to you:  The servant is not greater than his
lord:  neither is the apostle greater than he that sent him.
13:17. If you know these things, you shall be blessed if you do them.
13:18. I speak not of you all:  I know whom I have chosen.  But that the
scripture may be fulfilled:  He that eateth bread with me shall lift up
his heel against me,
13:19. At present I tell you, before it come to pass:  that when it
shall come to pass, you may believe that I am he.
13:20. Amen, amen, I say to you, he that receiveth whomsoever I send
receiveth me:  and he that receiveth me receiveth him that sent me.
13:21. When Jesus had said these things, he was troubled in spirit; and
he testified, and said:  Amen, amen, I say to you, one of you shall
13:22. The disciples therefore looked one upon another, doubting of
whom he spoke.
13:23. Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom
Jesus loved.
13:24. Simon Peter therefore beckoned to him and said to him:  Who is it
of whom he speaketh?
13:25. He therefore, leaning on the breast of Jesus, saith to him:
Lord, who is it?
13:26. Jesus answered:  He it is to whom I shall reach bread dipped.  And
when he had dipped the bread, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of
13:27. And after the morsel, Satan entered into him.  And Jesus said to
him:  That which thou dost, do quickly.
That which thou dost, do quickly. . .It is not a license, much less a
command, to go about his treason:  but a signification to him that
Christ would not hinder or resist what he was about, do it as soon as
he pleased:  but was both ready and desirous to suffer for our
13:28. Now no man at the table knew to what purpose he said this unto
13:29. For some thought, because Judas had the purse, that Jesus had
said to him:  Buy those things which we have need of for the festival
day:  or that he should give something to the poor.
13:30. He therefore, having received the morsel, went out immediately.
And it was night.
13:31. When he therefore was gone out, Jesus said:  Now is the Son of
man glorified; and God is glorified in him.
13:32. If God be glorified in him, God also will glorify him in
himself:  and immediately will he glorify him.
13:33. Little children, yet a little while I am with you.  You shall
seek me.  And as I said to the Jews:  Whither I go you cannot come; so I
say to you now.
13:34. A new commandment I give unto you:  That you love one another, as
I have loved you, that you also love one another.
13:35. By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you
have love one for another.
13:36. Simon Peter saith to him:  Lord, whither goest thou?  Jesus
answered:  Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now:  but thou shalt
follow hereafter.
13:37. Peter saith to him:  Why cannot I follow thee now?  I will lay
down my life for thee.
13:38. Jesus answered him:  Wilt thou lay down thy life for me?  Amen,
amen, I say to thee, the cock shall not crow, till thou deny me thrice.
John Chapter 14
Christ's discourse after his last supper.
14:1. Let not your heart be troubled.  You believe in God:  believe also
14:2. In my Father's house there are many mansions.  If not, I would
have told you:  because I go to prepare a place for you.
14:3. And if I shall go and prepare a place for you, I will come again
and will take you to myself:  that where I am, you also may be.
14:4. And whither I go you know:  and the way you know.
14:5. Thomas saith to him:  Lord, we know not whither thou goest.  And
how can we know the way?
14:6. Jesus saith to him:  I am the way, and the truth, and the life.  No
man cometh to the Father, but by me.
14:7. If you had known me, you would without doubt have known my Father
also:  and from henceforth you shall know him.  And you have seen him.
14:8. Philip saith to him:  Lord, shew us the Father; and it is enough
14:9. Jesus saith to him:  Have I been so long a time with you and have
you not known me?  Philip, he that seeth me seeth the Father also.  How
sayest thou:  Shew us the Father?
14:10. Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me?
The words that I speak to you, I speak not of myself.  But the Father
who abideth in me, he doth the works.
14:11. Believe you not that I am in the Father and the Father in me?
14:12. Otherwise believe for the very works' sake.  Amen, amen, I say to
you, he that believeth in me, the works that I do, he also shall do:
and greater than these shall he do.
14:13. Because I go to the Father:  and whatsoever you shall ask the
Father in my name, that will I do:  that the Father may be glorified in
14:14. If you shall ask me any thing in my name, that I will do.
14:15. If you love me, keep my commandments.
14:16. And I will ask the Father:  and he shall give you another
Paraclete, that he may abide with you for ever:
Paraclete. . .That is, a comforter:  or also an advocate; inasmuch as by
inspiring prayer, he prays, as it were, in us, and pleads for us.  For
ever. . .Hence it is evident that this Spirit of Truth was not only
promised to the persons of the apostles, but also to their successors
through all generations.
14:17. The spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it
seeth him not, nor knoweth him.  But you shall know him; because he
shall abide with you and shall be in you.
14:18. I will not leave you orphans:  I will come to you.
14:19. Yet a little while and the world seeth me no more.  But you see
me:  because I live, and you shall live.
14:20. In that day you shall know that I am in my Father:  and you in
me, and I in you.
14:21. He that hath my commandments and keepeth them; he it is that
loveth me.  And he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father:  and I
will love him and will manifest myself to him.
14:22. Judas saith to him, not the Iscariot:  Lord, how is it that thou
wilt manifest thyself to us, and not to the world?
14:23. Jesus answered and said to him:  If any one love me, he will keep
my word.  And my Father will love him and we will come to him and will
make our abode with him.
14:24. He that loveth me not keepeth not my words.  And the word which
you have heard is not mine; but the Father's who sent me.
14:25. These things have I spoken to you, abiding with you.
14:26. But the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in
my name, he will teach you all things and bring all things to your
mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you.
Teach you all things. . .Here the Holy Ghost is promised to the apostles
and their successors, particularly, in order to teach them all truth,
and to preserve them from error.
14:27. Peace I leave with you:  my peace I give unto you:  not as the
world giveth, do I give unto you.  Let not your heart be troubled:  nor
let it be afraid.
14:28. You have heard that I said to you:  I go away, and I come unto
you.  If you loved me you would indeed be glad, because I go to the
Father:  for the Father is greater than I.
For the Father is greater than I. . .It is evident, that Christ our Lord
speaks here of himself as he is made man:  for as God he is equal to the
Father. (See Phil. 2.)  Any difficulty of understanding the meaning of
these words will vanish, when the relative circumstances of the text
here are considered:  for Christ being at this time shortly to suffer
death, signified to his apostles his human nature by these very words:
for as God he could not die.  And therefore as he was both God and man,
it must follow that according to his humanity he was to die, which the
apostles were soon to see and believe, as he expresses, ver. 29.  And
now I have told you before it come to pass:  that when it shall come to
pass, you may believe.
14:29. And now I have told you before it come to pass:  that when it
shall come to pass, you may believe.
14:30. I will not now speak many things with you.  For the prince of
this world:  cometh:  and in me he hath not any thing.
14:31. But that the world may know that I love the Father:  and as the
Father hath given me commandments, so do I.  Arise, let us go hence.
John Chapter 15
A continuation of Christ's discourse to his disciples.
15:1. I am the true vine:  and my Father is the husbandman.
15:2. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit, he will take away:  and
every one that beareth fruit, he will purge it, that it may bring forth
15:3. Now you are clean, by reason of the word which I have spoken to
15:4. Abide in me:  and I in you.  As the branch cannot bear fruit of
itself, unless it abide in the vine, so neither can you, unless you
abide in me.
15:5. I am the vine:  you the branches.  He that abideth in me, and I in
him, the same beareth much fruit:  for without me you can do nothing.
15:6. If any one abide not in me, he shall be cast forth as a branch
and shall wither:  and they shall gather him up and cast him into the
fire:  and he burneth.
15:7. If you abide in me and my words abide in you, you shall ask
whatever you will:  and it shall be done unto you.
15:8. In this is my Father glorified:  that you bring forth very much
fruit and become my disciples.
15:9. As the Father hath loved me, I also have loved you.  Abide in my
15:10. If you keep my commandments, you shall abide in my love:  as I
also have kept my Father's commandments and do abide in his love.
15:11. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you,
and your joy may be filled.
15:12. This is my commandment, that you love one another, as I have
15:13. Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life
for his friends.
15:14. You are my friends, if you do the things that I command you.
15:15. I will not now call you servants:  for the servant knoweth not
what his lord doth.  But I have called you friends.  because all things,
whatsoever I have heard of my Father, I have made known to you.
15:16. You have not chosen me:  but I have chosen you; and have
appointed you, that you should go and should bring forth fruit; and
your fruit should remain:  that whatsoever you shall ask of the Father
in my name, he may give it you.
15:17. These things I command you, that you love one another.
15:18. If the world hate you, know ye that it hath hated me before you.
15:19. If you had been of the world, the world would love its own:  but
because you are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the
world, therefore the world hateth you.
15:20. Remember my word that I said to you:  The servant is not greater
than his master.  If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute
you.  If they have kept my word, they will keep yours also.
15:21. But all these things they will do to you for my name's sake:
because they know not him that sent me.
15:22. If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have sin:
but now they have no excuse for their sin.
15:23. He that hateth me hateth my Father also.
15:24. If I had not done among them the works that no other man hath
done, they would not have sin:  but now they have both seen and hated
both me and my Father.
15:25. But that the word may be fulfilled which is written in their
law:  they hated me without cause.
15:26. But when the Paraclete cometh, whom I will send you from the
Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceedeth from the Father, he shall
give testimony of me.
Whom I will send. . .This proves, against the modern Greeks, that the
Holy Ghost proceedeth from the Son, as well as from the Father:
otherwise he could not be sent by the Son.
15:27. And you shall give testimony, because you are with me from the
John Chapter 16
The conclusion of Christ's last discourse to his disciples.
16:1. These things have I spoken to you things have I spoken to you
that you may not be scandalized.
16:2. They will put you out of the synagogues:  yea, the hour cometh,
that whosoever killeth you will think that he doth a service to God.
16:3. And these things will they do to you; because they have not known
the Father nor me.
16:4. But these things I have told you, that when the hour shall come,
you may remember that I told you of them.
16:5. But I told you not these things from the beginning, because I was
with you.  And now I go to him that sent me, and none of you asketh me:
Whither goest thou?
16:6. But because I have spoken these things to you, sorrow hath filled
16:7. But I tell you the truth:  it is expedient to you that I go.  For
if I go not, the Paraclete will not come to you:  but if I go, I will
send him to you.
16:8. And when he is come, he will convince the world of sin and of
justice and of judgment.
He will convince the world of sin, etc. . .The Holy Ghost, by his coming
brought over many thousands, first, to a sense of their sin in not
believing in Christ.  Secondly, to a conviction of the justice of
Christ, now sitting at the right hand of his Father.  And thirdly, to a
right apprehension of the judgment prepared for them that choose to
follow Satan, who is already judged and condemned.
16:9. Of sin:  because they believed not in me.
16:10. And of justice:  because I go to the Father:  and you shall see me
16:11. And of judgment:  because the prince of this world is already
16:12. I have yet many things to say to you:  but you cannot bear them
16:13. But when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will teach you all
truth.  For he shall not speak of himself:  but what things soever he
shall hear, he shall speak.  And the things that are to come, he shall
Will teach you all truth. . .See the annotation on chap. 14. ver. 26.
16:14. He shall glorify me:  because he shall receive of mine and shall
shew it to you.
16:15. All things whatsoever the Father hath are mine.  Therefore I said
that he shall receive of me and shew it to you.
16:16. A little while, and now you shall not see me:  and again a little
while, and you shall see me:  because I go to the Father.
16:17. Then some of his disciples said one to another:  What is this
that he saith to us:  A little while, and you shall not see me:  and
again a little while, and you shall see me, and, Because I go to the
16:18. They said therefore:  What is this that he saith, A little while?
We know not what he speaketh.
16:19. And Jesus knew that they had a mind to ask him.  And he said to
them:  Of this do you inquire among yourselves, because I said:  A little
while, and you shall not see me; and again a little while, and you
shall see me?
16:20. Amen, amen, I say to you, that you shall lament and weep, but
the world shall rejoice:  and you shall be made sorrowful, but your
sorrow shall be turned into joy.
16:21. A woman, when she is in labour, hath sorrow, because her hour is
come; but when she hath brought forth the child, she remembereth no
more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.
16:22. So also you now indeed have sorrow:  but I will see you again and
your heart shall rejoice.  And your joy no man shall take from you.
16:23. And in that day you shall not ask me any thing.  Amen, amen, I
say to you:  if you ask the Father any thing in my name, he will give it
16:24. Hitherto, you have not asked any thing in my name.  Ask, and you
shall receive; that your joy may be full.
16:25. These things I have spoken to you in proverbs.  The hour cometh
when I will no longer speak to you in proverbs, but will shew you
plainly of the Father.
16:26. In that day, you shall ask in my name:  and I say not to you that
I will ask the Father for you.
16:27. For the Father himself loveth you, because you have loved me and
have believed that I came out from God.
16:28. I came forth from the Father and am come into the world:  again I
leave the world and I go to the Father.
16:29. His disciples say to him:  Behold, now thou speakest plainly and
speakest no proverb.
16:30. Now we know that thou knowest all things and thou needest not
that any man should ask thee.  By this we believe that thou camest forth
16:31. Jesus answered them:  Do you now believe?
16:32. Behold, the hour cometh, and it is now come, that you shall be
scattered every man to his own and shall leave me alone.  And yet I am
not alone, because the Father is with me.
16:33. These things I have spoken to you, that in me you may have
peace.  In the world you shall have distress.  But have confidence.  I
have overcome the world.
John Chapter 17
Christ's prayer for his disciples.
17:1. These things Jesus spoke:  and lifting up his eyes to heaven, he
said:  the hour is come.  Glorify thy Son, that thy Son may glorify thee.
17:2. As thou hast given him power over all flesh, that he may give
eternal life to all whom thou hast given him.
17:3. Now this is eternal life:  That they may know thee, the only true
God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.
17:4. I have glorified thee on the earth; I have finished the work
which thou gavest me to do.
17:5. And now glorify thou me, O Father, with thyself, with the glory
which I had, before the world was, with thee.
17:6. I have manifested thy name to the men whom thou hast given me out
of the world.  Thine they were:  and to me thou gavest them.  And they
have kept thy word.
17:7. Now they have known that all things which thou hast given me are
17:8. Because the words which thou gavest me, I have given to them.  And
they have received them and have known in very deed that I came out
from thee:  and they have believed that thou didst send me.
17:9. I pray for them.  I pray not for the world, but for them whom thou
hast given me:  because they are thine.
17:10. And all my things are thine, and thine are mine:  and I am
glorified in them.
17:11. And now I am not in the world, and these are in the world, and I
come to thee.  Holy Father, keep them in thy name whom thou hast given
me:  that they may be one, as we also are.
17:12. While I was with them, I kept them in thy name.  Those whom thou
gavest me have I kept:  and none of them is lost, but the son of
perdition:  that the scripture may be fulfilled.
17:13. And now I come to thee:  and these things I speak in the world,
that they may have my joy filled in themselves.
17:14. I have given them thy word, and the world hath hated them:
because they are not of the world, as I also am not of the world.
17:15. I pray not that thou shouldst take them out of the world, but
that thou shouldst keep them from evil.
17:16. They are not of the world, as I also am not of the world.
17:17. Sanctify them in truth.  Thy word is truth.
17:18. As thou hast sent me into the world, I also have sent them into
17:19. And for them do I sanctify myself, that they also may be
sanctified in truth.
17:20. And not for them only do I pray, but for them also who through
their word shall believe in me.
17:21. That they all may be one, as thou, Father, in me, and I in thee;
that they also may be one in us:  that the world may believe that thou
hast sent me.
17:22. And the glory which thou hast given me, I have given to them:
that, they may be one, as we also are one.
17:23. I in them, and thou in me:  that they may be made perfect in one:
and the world may know that thou hast sent me and hast loved them, as
thou hast also loved me.
17:24. Father, I will that where I am, they also whom thou hast given
me may be with me:  that they may see my glory which thou hast given me,
because thou hast loved me before the creation of the world.
17:25. Just Father, the world hath not known thee:  but I have known
thee.  And these have known that thou hast sent me.
17:26. And I have made known thy name to them and will make it known:
that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in
John Chapter 18
The history of the passion of Christ.
18:1. When Jesus had said these things, he went forth with his
disciples over the brook Cedron, where there was a garden, into which
he entered with his disciples.
18:2. And Judas also, who betrayed him, knew the place:  because Jesus
had often resorted thither together with his disciples.
18:3. Judas therefore having received a band of soldiers and servants
from the chief priests and the Pharisees, cometh thither with lanterns
and torches and weapons.
18:4. Jesus therefore, knowing all things that should come upon him,
went forth and said to them:  Whom seek ye?
18:5. They answered him:  Jesus of Nazareth.  Jesus saith to them:  I am
he.  And Judas also, who betrayed him, stood with them.
18:6. As soon therefore as he had said to them:  I am he; they went
backward and fell to the ground.
18:7. Again therefore he asked them:  Whom seek ye?  And they said:
Jesus of Nazareth.
18:8. Jesus answered:  I have told you that I am he.  If therefore you
seek me, let these go their way,
18:9. That the word might be fulfilled which he said:  Of them whom thou
hast given me, I have not lost any one.
18:10. Then Simon Peter, having a sword, drew it and struck the servant
of the high priest and cut off his right ear.  And the name of thee
servant was Malchus.
18:11. Jesus therefore said to Peter:  Put up thy sword into the
scabbard.  The chalice which my father hath given me, shall I not drink
18:12. Then the band and the tribune and the servants of the Jews took
Jesus and bound him.
18:13. And they led him away to Annas first, for he was father-in-law
to Caiphas, who was the high priest of that year.
18:14. Now Caiphas was he who had given the counsel to the Jews:  That
it was expedient that one man should die for the people.
18:15. And Simon Peter followed Jesus:  and so did another disciple.  And
that disciple was known to the high priest and went in with Jesus into
the court of the high priest.
18:16. But Peter stood at the door without.  The other disciple
therefore, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the
portress and brought in Peter.
18:17. The maid therefore that was portress saith to Peter:  Art not
thou also one of this man's disciple?  He saith I am not.
18:18. Now the servants and ministers stood at a fire of coals, because
it was cold, and warmed themselves.  And with them was Peter also,
standing and warming himself.
18:19. The high priest therefore asked Jesus of his disciples and of
his doctrine.
18:20. Jesus answered him:  I have spoken openly to the world.  I have
always taught in the synagogue and in the temple, whither all the Jews
resort:  and in secret I have spoken nothing.
18:21. Why askest thou me?  Ask them who have heard what I have spoken
unto them.  Behold they know what things I have said.
18:22. And when he had said these things, one of the servants standing
by gave Jesus a blow, saying:  Answerest thou the high priest so?
18:23. Jesus answered him:  If I have spoken evil, give testimony of the
evil; but if well, why strikest thou me?
18:24. And Annas sent him bound to Caiphas the high priest.
18:25. And Simon Peter was standing and warming himself.  They said
therefore to him:  Art not thou also one of his disciples?  He denied it
and said:  I am not.
18:26. One of the servants of the high priest (a kinsman to him whose
ear Peter cut off) saith to him:  Did not I see thee in the garden with
18:27. Again therefore Peter denied:  and immediately the cock crew.
18:28. Then they led Jesus from Caiphas to the governor's hall.  And it
was morning:  and they went not into the hall, that they might not be
defiled, but that they might eat the pasch.
18:29. Pilate therefore went out to them, and said:  What accusation
bring you against this man?
18:30. They answered and said to him:  If he were not a malefactor, we
would not have delivered him up to thee.
18:31. Pilate therefore said to them:  Take him you, and judge him
according to your law.  The Jews therefore said to him:  It is not lawful
for us to put any man to death.
18:32. That the word of Jesus might be fulfilled, which he said,
signifying what death he should die.
18:33. Pilate therefore went into the hall again and called Jesus and
said to him:  Art thou the king of the Jews?
18:34. Jesus answered:  Sayest thou this thing of thyself, or have
others told it thee of me?
18:35. Pilate answered:  Am I a Jew?  Thy own nation and the chief
priests have delivered thee up to me.  What hast thou done?
18:36. Jesus answered:  My kingdom is not of this world.  If my kingdom
were of this world, my servants would certainly strive that I should
not be delivered to the Jews:  but now my kingdom is not from hence.
18:37. Pilate therefore said to him:  Art thou a king then?  Jesus
answered:  Thou sayest that I am a king.  For this was I born, and for
this came I into the world; that I should give testimony to the truth.
Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice.
18:38. Pilate saith to him:  What is truth?  And when he said this, he
went out again to the Jews and saith to them:  I find no cause in him.
18:39. But you have a custom that I should release one unto you at the
Pasch.  Will you, therefore, that I release unto you the king of the
18:40. Then cried they all again, saying:  Not this man, but Barabbas.
Now Barabbas was a robber.
John Chapter 19
The continuation of the history of the Passion of Christ.
19:1. Then therefore Pilate took Jesus and scourged him.
19:2. And the soldiers platting a crown of thorns, put it upon his
head:  and they put on him a purple garment.
19:3. And they came to him and said:  Hail, king of the Jews.  And they
gave him blows.
19:4. Pilate therefore went forth again and saith to them:  Behold, I
bring him forth unto you, that you may know that I find no cause in
19:5. (Jesus therefore came forth, bearing the crown of thorns and the
purple garment.)  And he saith to them:  Behold the Man.
19:6. When the chief priests, therefore, and the servants had seen him,
they cried out, saying:  Crucify him, Crucify him.  Pilate saith to them:
Take him you, and crucify him:  for I find no cause in him.
19:7. The Jews answered him:  We have a law; and according to the law he
ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.
19:8. When Pilate therefore had heard this saying, he feared the more.
19:9. And he entered into the hall again; and he said to Jesus:  Whence
art thou?  But Jesus gave him no answer.
19:10. Pilate therefore saith to him:  Speakest thou not to me?  Knowest
thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and I have power to release
19:11. Jesus answered:  Thou shouldst not have any power against me,
unless it were given thee from above.  Therefore, he that hath delivered
me to thee hath the greater sin.
19:12. And from henceforth Pilate sought to release him.  But the Jews
cried out, saying:  If thou release this man, thou art not Caesar's
friend.  For whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against Caesar.
19:13. Now when Pilate had heard these words, he brought Jesus forth
and sat down in the judgment seat, in the place that is called
Lithostrotos, and in Hebrew Gabbatha.
19:14. And it was the parasceve of the pasch, about the sixth hour:  and
he saith to the Jews:  Behold your king.
The parasceve of the pasch. . .That is, the day before the paschal
sabbath.  The eve of every sabbath was called the parasceve, or day of
preparation.  But this was the eve of a high sabbath, viz., that which
fell in the paschal week.
19:15. But they cried out:  Away with him:  Away with him:  Crucify him.
Pilate saith to them:  shall I crucify your king?  The chief priests
answered:  We have no king but Caesar.
19:16. Then therefore he delivered him to them to be crucified.  And
they took Jesus and led him forth.
19:17. And bearing his own cross, he went forth to the place which is
called Calvary, but in Hebrew Golgotha.
19:18. Where they crucified him, and with him two others, one on each
side, and Jesus in the midst.
19:19. And Pilate wrote a title also:  and he put it upon the cross.  And
the writing was:  JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.
19:20. This title therefore many of the Jews did read:  because the
place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city.  And it was
written in Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin.
19:21. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate:  Write not:
The King of the Jews.  But that he said:  I am the King of the Jews.
19:22. Pilate answered:  What I have written, I have written.
19:23. The soldiers therefore, when they had crucified him, took his
garments, (and they made four parts, to every soldier a part) and also
his coat.  Now the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout.
19:24. They said then one to another:  Let us not cut it but let us cast
lots for it, whose it shall be; that the scripture might be fulfilled,
saying:  They have parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture
they have cast lots.  And the soldiers indeed did these things.
19:25. Now there stood by the cross of Jesus, his mother and his
mother's sister, Mary of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalen.
19:26. When Jesus therefore had seen his mother and the disciple
standing whom he loved, he saith to his mother:  Woman, behold thy son.
19:27. After that, he saith to the disciple:  Behold thy mother.  And
from that hour, the disciple took her to his own.
19:28. Afterwards, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished,
that the scripture might be fulfilled, said:  I thirst.
19:29. Now there was a vessel set there, full of vinegar.  And they,
putting a sponge full of vinegar about hyssop, put it to his mouth.
19:30. Jesus therefore, when he had taken the vinegar, said:  It is
consummated.  And bowing his head, he gave up the ghost.
19:31. Then the Jews (because it was the parasceve), that the bodies
might not remain upon the cross on the sabbath day (for that was a
great sabbath day), besought Pilate that their legs might be broken:
and that they might be taken away.
19:32. The soldiers therefore came:  and they broke the legs of the
first, and of the other that was crucified with him.
19:33. But after they were come to Jesus, when they saw that he was
already dead, they did not break his legs.
19:34. But one of the soldiers with a spear opened his side:  and
immediately there came out blood and water.
19:35. And he that saw it hath given testimony:  and his testimony is
true.  And he knoweth that he saith true:  that you also may believe.
19:36. For these things were done that the scripture might be
fulfilled:  You shall not break a bone of him.
19:37. And again another scripture saith:  They shall look on him whom
they pierced.
19:38. And after these things, Joseph of Arimathea (because he was a
disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews), besought Pilate
that he might take away the body of Jesus.  And Pilate gave leave.  He
came therefore and took away the body of Jesus.
19:39. And Nicodemus also came (he who at the first came to Jesus by
night), bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred pound
19:40. They took therefore the body of Jesus and bound it in linen
cloths, with the spices, as the manner of the Jews is to bury.
19:41. Now there was in the place where he was crucified a garden:  and
in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein no man yet had been laid.
19:42. There, therefore, because of the parasceve of the Jews, they
laid Jesus:  because the sepulchre was nigh at hand.
John Chapter 20
Christ's resurrection and manifestation to his disciples.
20:1. And on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalen cometh early,
when it was yet dark, unto the sepulchre:  and she saw the stone taken
away from the sepulchre.
20:2. She ran therefore and cometh to Simon Peter and to the other
disciple whom Jesus loved and saith to them:  They have taken away the
Lord out of the sepulchre:  and we know not where they have laid him.
20:3. Peter therefore went out, and the other disciple:  and they came
to the sepulchre.
20:4. And they both ran together:  and that other disciple did outrun
Peter and came first to the sepulchre.
20:5. And when he stooped down, he saw the linen cloths lying:  but yet
he went not in.
20:6. Then cometh Simon Peter, following him, and went into the
sepulchre:  and saw the linen cloths lying,
20:7. And the napkin that had been about his head, not lying with the
linen cloths, but apart, wrapped up into one place.
20:8. Then that other disciple also went in, who came first to the
sepulchre:  and he saw and believed.
20:9. For as yet they knew not the scripture, that he must rise again
from the dead.
20:10. The disciples therefore departed again to their home.
20:11. But Mary stood at the sepulchre without, weeping.  Now as she was
weeping, she stooped down and looked into the sepulchre,
20:12. And she saw two angels in white, sitting, one at the head, and
one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been laid.
20:13. They say to her:  Woman, why weepest thou?  She saith to them:
Because they have taken away my Lord:  and I know not where they have
20:14. When she had thus said, she turned herself back and saw Jesus
standing:  and she knew not that it was Jesus.
20:15. Jesus saith to her:  Woman, why weepest thou?  Whom seekest thou?
She, thinking that it was the gardener, saith to him:  Sir, if thou hast
taken him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him:  and I will take him
20:16. Jesus saith to her:  Mary.  She turning, saith to him:  Rabboni
(which is to say, Master).
20:17. Jesus saith to her:  Do not touch me:  for I am not yet ascended
to my Father.  But go to my brethren and say to them:  I ascend to my
Father and to your Father, to my God and to your God.
20:18. Mary Magdalen cometh and telleth the disciples:  I have seen the
Lord; and these things he said to me.
20:19. Now when it was late the same day, the first of the week, and
the doors were shut, where the disciples were gathered together, for
fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst and said to them:
Peace be to you.
The doors were shut. . .The same power which could bring Christ's whole
body, entire in all its dimensions, through the doors, can without the
least question make the same body really present in the sacrament;
though both the one and the other be above our comprehension.
20:20. And when he had said this, he shewed them his hands and his
side.  The disciples therefore were glad, when they saw the Lord.
20:21. He said therefore to them again:  Peace be to you.  As the Father
hath sent me, I also send you.
20:22. When he had said this, he breathed on them; and he said to them:
Receive ye the Holy Ghost.
20:23. Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them:  and whose
sins you shall retain, they are retained.
Whose sins, etc. . .See here the commission, stamped by the broad seal
of heaven, by virtue of which the pastors of Christ's church absolve
repenting sinners upon their confession.
20:24. Now Thomas, one of the twelve, who is called Didymus, was not
with them when Jesus came.
20:25. The other disciples therefore said to him:  We have seen the
Lord.  But he said to them:  Except I shall see in his hands the print of
the nails and put my finger into the place of the nails and put my hand
into his side, I will not believe.
20:26. And after eight days, again his disciples were within, and
Thomas with them.  Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the
midst and said:  Peace be to you.
20:27. Then he said to Thomas:  Put in thy finger hither and see my
hands.  And bring hither the hand and put it into my side.  And be not
faithless, but believing.
20:28. Thomas answered and said to him:  My Lord and my God.
20:29. Jesus saith to him:  Because thou hast seen me, Thomas, thou hast
believed:  blessed are they that have not seen and have believed.
20:30. Many other signs also did Jesus in the sight of his disciples,
which are not written in this book.
20:31. But these are written, that you may believe that Jesus is the
Christ, the Son of God:  and that believing, you may have life in his
John Chapter 21
Christ manifests himself to his disciples by the sea side and gives
Peter the charge of his sheep.
21:1. After this, Jesus shewed himself to the disciples at the sea of
Tiberias.  And he shewed himself after this manner.
21:2. There were together:  Simon Peter and Thomas, who is called
Didymus, and Nathanael, who was of Cana of Galilee, and the sons of
Zebedee and two others of his disciples.
21:3. Simon Peter saith to them:  I go a fishing.  They say to him:  We
also come with thee.  And they went forth and entered into the ship:  and
that night they caught nothing.
21:4. But when the morning was come, Jesus stood on the shore:  yet the
disciples knew not that it was Jesus.
21:5. Jesus therefore said to them:  Children, have you any meat?  They
answered him:  No.
21:6. He saith to them:  Cast the net on the right side of the ship; and
you shall find.  They cast therefore:  and now they were not able to draw
it, for the multitude of fishes.
21:7. That disciple therefore whom Jesus loved said to Peter:  It is the
Lord.  Simon Peter, when he heard that it was the Lord, girt his coat
about him (for he was naked) and cast himself into the sea.
21:8. But the other disciples came in the ship (for they were not far
from the land, but as it were two hundred cubits) dragging the net with
21:9. As soon then as they came to land they saw hot coals lying, and a
fish laid thereon, and bread.
21:10. Jesus saith to them:  Bring hither of the fishes which you have
21:11. Simon Peter went up and drew the net to land, full of great
fishes, one hundred and fifty-three.  And although there were so many,
the net was not broken.
21:12. Jesus saith to them:  Come and dine.  And none of them who were at
meat, durst ask him:  Who art thou?  Knowing that it was the Lord.
21:13. And Jesus cometh and taketh bread and giveth them:  and fish in
like manner.
21:14. This is now the third time that Jesus was manifested to his
disciples, after he was risen from the dead.
21:15. When therefore they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter:
Simon, son of John, lovest thou me more than these?  He saith to him:
Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee.  He saith to him:  Feed my
21:16. He saith to him again:  Simon, son of John, lovest thou me?  He
saith to him:  yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee.  He saith to
him:  Feed my lambs.
21:17. He said to him the third time:  Simon, son of John, lovest thou
me?  Peter was grieved because he had said to him the third time:  Lovest
thou me?  And he said to him:  Lord, thou knowest all things:  thou
knowest that I love thee.  He said to him:  Feed my sheep.
Feed my sheep. . .Our Lord had promised the spiritual supremacy to St.
Peter; St. Matt. 16. 19; and here he fulfils that promise, by charging
him with the superintendency of all his sheep, without exception; and
consequently of his whole flock, that is, of his own church.
21:18. Amen, amen, I say to thee, When thou wast younger, thou didst
gird thyself and didst walk where thou wouldst.  But when thou shalt be
old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee
and lead thee whither thou wouldst not.
21:19. And this he said, signifying by what death he should glorify
God.  And when he had said this, he saith to him:  Follow me.
21:20. Peter turning about, saw that disciple whom Jesus loved
following, who also leaned on his breast at supper and said:  Lord, who
is he that shall betray thee?
21:21. Him therefore when Peter had seen, he saith to Jesus:  Lord, and
what shall this man do?
21:22. Jesus saith to him:  So I will have him to remain till I come,
what is it to thee?  Follow thou me.
21:23. This saying therefore went abroad among the brethren, that that
disciple should not die.  And Jesus did not say to him:  He should not
die; but:  So I will have him to remain till I come, what is it to thee?
21:24. This is that disciple who giveth testimony of these things and
hath written these things:  and we know that his testimony is true.
21:25. But there are also many other things which Jesus did which, if
they were written every one, the world itself.  I think, would not be
able to contain the books that should be written.
THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES
This Book, which, from the first ages, hath been called, THE ACTS OF
THE APOSTLES, is not to be considered as a history of what was done by
all the Apostles, who were dispersed into different nations; but only a
short view of the first establishment of the Christian Church.  A part
of the preaching and action of St. Peter are related in the first
twelve chapters; and a particular account of St. Paul's apostolical
labours in the subsequent chapters.  It was written by St. Luke the
Evangelist, and the original in Greek.  Its history commences from the
Ascension of Christ our Lord and ends in the year sixty-three, being a
brief account of the Church for the space of about thirty years.
Acts Chapter 1
The ascension of Christ.  Matthias is chosen in place of Judas.
1:1. The former treatise I made, O Theophilus, of all things which
Jesus began to do and to teach,
1:2. Until the day on which, giving commandments by the Holy Ghost to
the apostles whom he had chosen, he was taken up.
1:3. To whom also he shewed himself alive after his passion, by many
proofs, for forty days appearing to them, and speaking of the kingdom
1:4. And eating together with them, he commanded them, that they should
not depart from Jerusalem, but should wait for the promise of the
Father, which you have heard (saith he) by my mouth.
1:5. For John indeed baptized with water:  but you shall be baptized
with the Holy Ghost, not many days hence.
1:6. They therefore who were come together, asked him, saying:  Lord,
wilt thou at this time restore again the kingdom of Israel?
1:7. But he said to them:  It is not for you to know the time or
moments, which the Father hath put in his own power:
1:8. But you shall receive the power of the Holy Ghost coming upon you,
and you shall be witnesses unto me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and
Samaria, and even to the uttermost part of the earth.
1:9. And when he had said these things, while they looked on, he was
raised up:  and a cloud received him out of their sight.
1:10. And while they were beholding him going up to heaven, behold two
men stood by them in white garments.
1:11. Who also said:  Ye men of Galilee, why stand you looking up to
heaven?  This Jesus who is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come
as you have seen him going into heaven.
1:12. Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount that is called
Olivet, which is nigh Jerusalem, within a sabbath day's journey.
1:13. And when they were come in, they went up into an upper room,
where abode Peter and John, James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas,
Bartholomew and Matthew, James of Alpheus and Simon Zelotes and Jude
the brother of James.
1:14. All these were persevering with one mind in prayer with the
women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brethren.
1:15. In those days Peter rising up in the midst of the brethren, said
(now the number of persons together was about an hundred and twenty):
1:16. Men, brethren, the scripture must needs be fulfilled, which the
Holy Ghost spoke before by the mouth of David concerning Judas, who was
the leader of them that apprehended Jesus:
1:17. Who was numbered with us, and had obtained part of this ministry.
1:18. And he indeed hath possessed a field of the reward of iniquity,
and being hanged, burst asunder in the midst:  and all his bowels gushed
1:19. And it became known to all the inhabitants of Jerusalem:  so that
the same field was called in their tongue, Haceldama, that is to say,
The field of blood.
1:20. For it is written in the book of Psalms:  Let their habitation
become desolate, and let there be none to dwell therein.  And his
bishopric let another take.
1:21. Wherefore of these men who have companied with us, all the time
that the Lord Jesus came in and went out among us,
1:22. Beginning from the baptism of John, until the day wherein he was
taken up from us, one of these must be made a witness with us of his
resurrection.
1:23. And they appointed two, Joseph, called Barsabas, who was surnamed
Justus, and Matthias.
1:24. And praying, they said:  Thou, Lord, who knowest the heart of all
men, shew whether of these two thou hast chosen,
1:25. To take the place of this ministry and apostleship, from which
Judas hath by transgression fallen, that he might go to his own place.
1:26. And they gave them lot, and the lot fell upon Matthias, and he
was numbered with the eleven apostles.
Acts Chapter 2
The disciples receive the Holy Ghost.  Peter's sermon to the people.  The
piety of the first converts.
2:1. And when the days of the Pentecost were accomplished, they were
all together in one place:
2:2. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a mighty wind
coming:  and it filled the whole house where they were sitting.
2:3. And there appeared to them parted tongues, as it were of fire:  and
it sat upon every one of them.
2:4. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost:  and they began to
speak with divers tongues, according as the Holy Ghost gave them to
2:5. Now there were dwelling at Jerusalem, Jews, devout men, out of
every nation under heaven.
2:6. And when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and
were confounded in mind, because that every man heard them speak in his
2:7. And they were all amazed, and wondered, saying:  Behold, are not
all these that speak Galilean?
2:8. And how have we heard, every man our own tongue wherein we were
2:9. Parthians and Medes and Elamites and inhabitants of Mesopotamia,
Judea, and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia,
2:10. Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya about Cyrene,
and strangers of Rome,
2:11. Jews also, and proselytes, Cretes, and Arabians:  we have heard
them speak in our own tongues the wonderful works of God.
2:12. And they were all astonished, and wondered, saying one to
another:  What meaneth this?
2:13. But others mocking, said:  These men are full of new wine.
2:14. But Peter standing up with the eleven, lifted up his voice, and
spoke to them:  Ye men of Judea, and all you that dwell in Jerusalem, be
this known to you and with your ears receive my words.
2:15. For these are not drunk, as you suppose, seeing it is but the
third hour of the day:
2:16. But this is that which was spoken of by the prophet Joel:
2:17. And it shall come to pass, in the last days, (saith the Lord), I
will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh:  and your sons and your
daughters shall prophesy:  and your young men shall see visions, and
your old men shall dream dreams.
2:18. And upon my servants indeed and upon my handmaids will I pour out
in those days of my spirit:  and they shall prophesy.
2:19. And I will shew wonders in the heaven above, and signs on the
earth beneath:  blood and fire, and vapour of smoke.
2:20. The sun shall be turned into darkness and the moon into blood,
before the great and manifest day of the Lord to come.
2:21. And it shalt come to pass, that whosoever shall call upon the
name of the Lord shall be saved.
2:22. Ye men of Israel, hear these words:  Jesus of Nazareth, a man
approved of God among you by miracles and wonders and signs, which God
did by him, in the midst of you, as you also know:
2:23. This same being delivered up, by the determinate counsel and
foreknowledge of God, you by the hands of wicked men have crucified and
By the determinate, etc. . .God delivered up his Son; and his Son
delivered up himself, for the love of us, and for the sake of our
salvation; and so Christ's being delivered up was holy, and was God's
own determination.  But they who betrayed and crucified him, did
wickedly, following therein their own malice and the instigation of the
devil; not the will and determination of God, who was by no means the
author of their wickedness; though he permitted it; because he could,
and did draw out of it so great a good, viz., the salvation of man.
2:24. Whom God hath raised up, having loosed the sorrows of hell, as it
was impossible that he should be holden by it.
Having loosed the sorrow, etc. . .Having overcome the grievous pains of
death and all the power of hell.
2:25. For David saith concerning him:  I foresaw the Lord before my
face:  because he is at my right hand, that I may not be moved.
2:26. For this my heart hath been glad, and my tongue hath rejoiced:
moreover my flesh also shall rest in hope.
2:27. Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell:  nor suffer thy Holy
One to see corruption.
2:28. Thou hast made known to me the ways of life:  thou shalt make me
full of joy with thy countenance.
2:29. Ye men, brethren, let me freely speak to you of the patriarch
David:  that he died and was buried; and his sepulchre is with us to
this present say.
2:30. Whereas therefore he was a prophet and knew that God hath sworn
to him with an oath, that of the fruit of his loins one should sit upon
2:31. Foreseeing this, he spoke of the resurrection of Christ.  For
neither was he left in hell:  neither did his flesh see corruption.
2:32. This Jesus hath God raised again, whereof all we are witnesses.
2:33. Being exalted therefore by the right hand of God and having
received of the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost, he hath poured
forth this which you see and hear.
2:34. For David ascended not into heaven; but he himself said:  The Lord
said to my Lord:  Sit thou on my right hand,
2:35. Until I make thy enemies thy footstool.
2:36. Therefore let all the house of Israel know most certainly that
God hath made both Lord and Christ, this same Jesus, whom you have
2:37. Now when they had heard these things, they had compunction in
their heart and said to Peter and to the rest of the apostles:  What
shall we do, men and brethren?
2:38. But Peter said to them:  Do penance:  and be baptized every one of
you in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of your sins.  And
you shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.
2:39. For the promise is to you and to your children and to all that
are far off, whomsoever the Lord our God shall call.
2:40. And with very many other words did he testify and exhort them,
saying:  Save yourselves from this perverse generation.
2:41. They therefore that received his word were baptized:  and there
were added in that day about three thousand souls.
2:42. And they were persevering in the doctrine of the apostles and in
the communication of the breaking of bread and in prayers.
2:43. And fear came upon every soul.  Many wonders also and signs were
done by the apostles in Jerusalem:  and there was great fervor in all.
2:44. And all they that believed were together and had all things
2:45. Their possessions and goods they sold and divided them to all,
according as every one had need.
2:46. And continuing daily with one accord in the temple and breaking
bread from house to house, they took their meat with gladness and
simplicity of heart:
2:47. Praising God and having favour with all the people.  And the Lord
increased daily together such as should be saved.
Acts Chapter 3
The miracle upon the lame man, followed by the conversion of many.
3:1. Now Peter and John went up into the temple at the ninth hour of
3:2. And a certain man who was lame from his mother's womb was carried:
whom they laid every day at the gate of the temple, which is called
Beautiful, that he might ask alms of them that went into the temple.
3:3. He, when he had seen Peter and John, about to go into the temple,
asked to receive an alms.
3:4. But Peter with John, fastening his eyes upon him, said:  Look upon
3:5. But he looked earnestly upon them, hoping that he should receive
something of them.
3:6. But Peter said:  Silver and gold I have none; but what I have, I
give thee.  In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise and walk.
3:7. And taking him by the right hand, he lifted him up:  and forthwith
his feet and soles received strength.
3:8. And he leaping up, stood and walked and went in with them into the
temple, walking and leaping and praising God.
3:9. And all the people saw him walking and praising God.
3:10. And they knew him, that it was he who sat begging alms at the
Beautiful gate of the temple:  and they were filled with wonder and
amazement at that which had happened to him.
3:11. And as he held Peter and John, all the people ran to them, to the
porch which is called Solomon's, greatly wondering.
3:12. But Peter seeing, made answer to the people:  Ye men of Israel,
why wonder you at this?  Or why look you upon us, as if by our strength
or power we had made this man to walk?
3:13. The God of Abraham and the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob, the
God of our fathers, hath glorified his Son Jesus, whom you indeed
delivered up and denied before the face of Pilate, when he judged he
should be released.
3:14. But you denied the Holy One and the Just:  and desired a murderer
to be granted unto you.
3:15. But the author of life you killed, whom God hath raised from the
dead:  of which we are witnesses.
3:16. And in the faith of his name, this man, whom you have seen and
known, hath his name strengthened.  And the faith which is by him hath
given this perfect soundness in the sight of you all.
3:17. And now, brethren, I know that you did it through ignorance:  as
did also your rulers.
3:18. But those things which God before had shewed by the mouth of all
the prophets, that his Christ should suffer, he hath so fulfilled.
3:19. Be penitent, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be
blotted out.
3:20. That when the times of refreshment shall come from the presence
of the Lord, and he shall send him who hath been preached unto you,
Jesus Christ.
3:21. Whom heaven indeed must receive, until the times of the
restitution of all things, which God hath spoken by the mouth of his
holy prophets, from the beginning of the world.
3:22. For Moses said:  A prophet shall the Lord your God raise up unto
you of your brethren, like unto me:  him you shall hear according to all
things whatsoever he shall speak to you.
3:23. And it shall be, that every soul which will not hear that prophet
shall be destroyed from among the people.
3:24. And all the prophets, from Samuel and afterwards, who have
spoken, have told of these days.
3:25. You are the children of the prophets and of the testament which
God made to our fathers, saying to Abraham:  And in thy seed shall all
the kindreds of the earth be blessed.
3:26. To you first, God, raising up his Son, hath sent him to bless
you:  that every one may convert himself from his wickedness.
Acts Chapter 4
Peter and John are apprehended.  Their constancy.  The church is
4:1. And as they were speaking to the people the priests and the
officer of the temple and the Sadducees came upon them,
4:2. Being grieved that they taught the people and preached in Jesus
the resurrection from the dead:
4:3. And they laid hands upon them and put them in hold till the next
day:  for it was now evening.
4:4. But many of them who had heard the word believed:  and the number
of the men was made five thousand.
4:5. And it came to pass on the morrow, that their princes and ancients
and scribes were gathered together in Jerusalem.
4:6. And Annas the high priest and Caiphas and John and Alexander:  and
as many as were of the kindred of the high priest.
4:7. And setting them in the midst, they asked:  By what power or by
what name, have you done this?
4:8. Then Peter, filled with the Holy Ghost, said to them:  Ye princes
of the people and ancients, hear.
4:9. If we this day are examined concerning the good deed done to the
infirm man, by what means he hath been made whole:
4:10. Be it known to you all and to all the people of Israel, that by
the name of our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom
God hath raised from the dead, even by him, this man standeth here
before you, whole.
4:11. This is the stone which was rejected by you the builders, which
is become the head of the corner.
4:12. Neither is there salvation in any other.  For there is no other
name under heaven given to men, whereby we must be saved.
4:13. Now seeing the constancy of Peter and of John, understanding that
they were illiterate and ignorant men, they wondered:  and they knew
them that they had been with Jesus.
4:14. Seeing the man also who had been healed, standing with them, they
could say nothing against it.
4:15. But they commanded them to go aside out of the council:  and they
conferred among themselves,
4:16. Saying:  What shall we do to these men?  For indeed a miracle hath
been done by them, known to all the inhabitants of Jerusalem.  It is
manifest:  and we cannot deny it.
4:17. But that it may be no farther spread among the people, let us
threaten them that they speak no more in this name to any man.
4:18. And calling them, they charged them not to speak at all, nor
teach in the name of Jesus.
4:19. But Peter and John answering, said to them:  If it be just, in the
sight of God, to hear you rather than God, judge ye.
4:20. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard.
4:21. But they, threatening, sent them away, not finding how they might
punish them, because of the people:  for all men glorified what had been
done, in that which had come to pass.
4:22. For the man was above forty years old, in whom that miraculous
cure had been wrought.
4:23. And being let go, they came to their own company and related all
that the chief priests and ancients had said to them.
4:24. Who having heard it, with one accord lifted up their voice to God
and said:  Lord, thou art he that didst make heaven and earth, the sea
and all things that are in them.
4:25. Who, by the Holy Ghost, by the mouth of our father David, thy
servant, hast said:  Why did the Gentiles rage:  and the people meditate
vain things?
4:26. The kings of the earth stood up:  and the princes assembled
together against the Lord and his Christ.
4:27. For of a truth there assembled together in this city against thy
holy child Jesus, whom thou hast anointed, Herod, and Pontius Pilate,
with the Gentiles and the people of Israel,
4:28. To do what thy hand and thy counsel decreed to be done.
4:29. And now, Lord, behold their threatenings:  and grant unto thy
servants that with all confidence they may speak thy word,
4:30. By stretching forth thy hand to cures and signs and wonders, to
be done by the name of thy holy Son, Jesus.
4:31. And when they had prayed, the place was moved wherein they were
assembled:  and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost:  and they spoke
the word of God with confidence.
4:32. And the multitude of believers had but one heart and one soul.
Neither did any one say that aught of the things which he possessed was
his own:  but all things were common unto them.
4:33. And with great power did the Apostles give testimony of the
resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord:  and great grace was in them all.
4:34. For neither was there any one needy among them.  For as many as
were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the price of the
things they sold,
4:35. And laid it down before the feet of the apostles.  And
distribution was made to every one, according as he had need.
4:36. And Joseph, who, by the apostles, was surnamed Barnabas (which
is, by interpretation, The son of consolation), a Levite, a Cyprian
4:37. Having land, sold it and brought the price and laid it at the
feet of the Apostles.
Acts Chapter 5
The judgment of God upon Ananias and Saphira.  The apostles are cast
into prison.
5:1. But a certain man named Ananias, with Saphira his wife, sold a
piece of land,
5:2. And by fraud kept back part of the price of the land, his wife
being privy thereunto:  and bringing a certain part of it, laid it at
the feet of the apostles.
5:3. But Peter said:  Ananias, why hath Satan tempted thy heart, that
thou shouldst lie to the Holy Ghost and by fraud keep part of the price
of the land?
5:4. Whilst it remained, did it not remain to thee?  And after it was
sold, was it not in thy power?  Why hast thou conceived this thing in
thy heart?  Thou hast not lied to men, but to God.
5:5. And Ananias, hearing these words, fell down and gave up the ghost.
And there came great fear upon all that heard it.
5:6. And the young men rising up, removed him, and carrying him out,
5:7. And it was about the space of three hours after, when his wife,
not knowing what had happened, came in.
5:8. And Peter said to her:  Tell me, woman, whether you sold the land
for so much?  And she said:  Yea, for so much.
5:9. And Peter said unto her:  Why have you agreed together to tempt the
spirit of the Lord?  Behold the feet of them who have buried thy husband
are at the door:  and they shall carry thee out,
5:10. Immediately, she fell down before his feet and gave up the ghost.
And the young men coming in found her dead:  and carried her out and
buried her by her husband.
5:11. And there came great fear upon the whole church and upon all that
heard these things.
5:12. And by the hands of the apostles were many signs and wonders
wrought among the people.  And they were all with one accord in
Solomon's porch.
5:13. But of the rest no man durst join himself unto them:  but the
people magnified them.
5:14. And the multitude of men and women who believed in the Lord was
more increased:
5:15. Insomuch that they brought forth the sick into the streets and
laid them on beds and couches, that, when Peter came, his shadow at the
least might overshadow any of them and they might be delivered from
their infirmities.
5:16. And there came also together to Jerusalem a multitude out of the
neighbouring cities, bringing sick persons and such as were troubled
with unclean spirits:  who were all healed.
5:17. Then the high priest rising up, and all they that were with him
(which is the heresy of the Sadducees) were filled with envy.
5:18. And they laid hands on the apostles and put them in the common
5:19. But an angel of the Lord by night, opening the doors of the
prison and leading them out, said:
5:20. Go, and standing speak in the temple to the people all the words
of this life.
5:21. Who having heard this, early in the morning, entered into the
temple and taught.  And the high priest coming, and they that were with
him, called together the council and all the ancients of the children
of Israel:  and they sent to the prison to have them brought.
5:22. But when the ministers came and opening the prison found them not
there, they returned and told,
5:23. Saying:  The prison indeed we found shut with all diligence, and
the keepers standing before the door:  but opening it, we found no man
5:24. Now when the officer of the temple and the chief priests heard
these words, they were in doubt concerning them, what would come to
5:25. But one came and told them:  Behold, the men whom you put in
prison are in the temple, standing and teaching the people.
5:26. Then went the officer with the ministers and brought them without
violence:  for they feared the people, lest they should be stoned.
5:27. And when they had brought them, they set them before the council.
And the high priest asked them,
5:28. Saying:  Commanding, we commanded you that you should not teach in
this name.  And behold, you have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine:
and you have a mind to bring the blood of this man upon us.
5:29. But Peter and the apostles answering, said:  We ought to obey God
rather than men.
5:30. The God of our fathers hath raised up Jesus, whom you put to
death, hanging him upon a tree.
5:31. Him hath God exalted with his right hand, to be Prince and
Saviour.  to give repentance to Israel and remission of sins.
5:32. And we are witnesses of these things:  and the Holy Ghost, whom
God hath given to all that obey him.
5:33. When they had heard these things, they were cut to the heart:  and
they thought to put them to death.
5:34. But one in the council rising up, a Pharisee, named Gamaliel, a
doctor of the law, respected by all the people, commanded the men to be
put forth a little while.
5:35. And he said to them:  Ye men of Israel, take heed to yourselves
what you intend to do, as touching these men.
5:36. For before these days rose up Theodas, affirming himself to be
somebody, to whom a number of men, about four hundred, joined
themselves.  Who was slain:  and all that believed him were scattered and
brought to nothing.
5:37. After this man, rose up Judas of Galilee, in the days of the
enrolling, and drew away the people after him.  He also perished:  and
all, even as many as consented to him, were dispersed.
5:38. And now, therefore, I say to you:  Refrain from these men and let
them alone.  For if this council or this work be of men, it will come to
5:39. But if it be of God, you cannot overthrow it, lest perhaps you be
found even to fight against God.  And they consented to him.
5:40. And calling in the apostles, after they had scourged them, they
charged them that they should not speak at all in the name of Jesus.
And they dismissed them.
5:41. And they indeed went from the presence of the council, rejoicing
that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of
5:42. And every day they ceased not, in the temple and from house to
house, to teach and preach Christ Jesus.
Acts Chapter 6
The ordination of the seven deacons.  The zeal of Stephen.
6:1. And in those days, the number of the disciples increasing, there
arose a murmuring of the Greeks against the Hebrews, for that their
widows were neglected in the daily ministration.
Greeks. . .So they called the Jews that were born and brought up in
6:2. Then the twelve, calling together the multitude of the disciples,
said:  It is not reason that we should leave the word of God and serve
6:3. Wherefore, brethren, look ye out among you seven men of good
reputation, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom, whom we may appoint over
this business.
6:4. But we will give ourselves continually to prayer and to the
ministry of the word.
6:5. And the saying was liked by all the multitude.  And they chose
Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Ghost, and Philip and
Prochorus and Nicanor, and Timon and Parmenas and Nicolas, a proselyte
6:6. These they set before the apostles:  and they praying, imposed
hands upon them.
6:7. And the word of the Lord increased:  and the number of the
disciples was multiplied in Jerusalem exceedingly.  A great multitude
also of the priests obeyed the faith.
6:8. And Stephen, full of grace and fortitude, did great wonders and
signs among the people.
6:9. Now there arose some, of that which is called the synagogue of the
Libertines and of the Cyrenians and of the Alexandrians and of them
that were of Cilicia and Asia, disputing with Stephen.
6:10. And they were not able to resist the wisdom and the spirit that
6:11. Then they suborned men to say they had heard him speak words of
blasphemy against Moses and against God.
6:12. And they stirred up the people and the ancients and the scribes.
And running together, they took him and brought him to the council.
6:13. And they set up false witnesses, who said:  This man ceaseth not
to speak words against the holy place and the law.
6:14. For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth shall
destroy this place and shall change the traditions which Moses
delivered unto us.
6:15. And all that sat in the council, looking on him, saw his face as
if it had been the face of an angel.
Acts Chapter 7
Stephen's speech before the council.  His martyrdom.
7:1. Then the high priest said:  Are these things so?
7:2. Who said:  Ye men, brethren and fathers, hear.  The God of glory
appeared to our father Abraham, when he was in Mesopotamia, before he
dwelt in Charan.
7:3. And said to him:  Go forth out of thy country and from thy kindred:
and come into the land which I shall shew thee.
7:4. Then he went out of the land of the Chaldeans and dwelt in Charan.
And from thence, after his father was dead, he removed him into this
land, wherein you now dwell.
7:5. And he gave him no inheritance in it:  no, not the pace of a foot.
But he promised to give it him in possession, and to his seed after
him, when as yet he had no child.
7:6. And God said to him:  That his seed should sojourn in a strange
country, and that they should bring them under bondage and treat them
evil four hundred years.
7:7. And the nation which they shall serve will I judge (said the
Lord):  and after these things they shall go out and shall serve me in
7:8. And he gave him the covenant of circumcision.  And so he begot
Isaac and circumcised him the eighth day:  and Isaac begot Jacob:  and
Jacob, the twelve patriarchs.
7:9. And the patriarchs, through envy, sold Joseph into Egypt.  And God
was with him,
7:10. And delivered him out of all his tribulations:  and he gave him
favour and wisdom in the sight of Pharao, the king of Egypt.  And he
appointed him governor over Egypt and over all his house.
7:11. Now there came a famine upon all Egypt and Chanaan, and great
tribulation:  and our fathers found no food.
7:12. But when Jacob had heard that there was corn in Egypt, he sent
our fathers first.
7:13. And at the second time, Joseph was known by his brethren:  and his
kindred was made known to Pharao.
7:14. And Joseph sending, called thither Jacob, his father, and all his
kindred, seventy-five souls.
7:15. So Jacob went down into Egypt.  And he died, and our fathers.
7:16. And they were translated into Sichem and were laid in the
sepulchre that Abraham bought for a sum of money of the sons of Hemor,
the son of Sichem.
7:17. And when the time of the promise drew near, which God had
promised to Abraham, the people increased and were multiplied in Egypt.
7:18. Till another king arose in Egypt, who knew not Joseph.
7:19. This same, dealing craftily with our race, afflicted our fathers,
that they should expose their children, to the end they might not be
7:20. At the same time was Moses born:  and he was acceptable to God.
Who was nourished three months in his father's house.
7:21. And when he was exposed, Pharao's daughter took him up and
nourished him for her own son.
7:22. And Moses was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians:  and
he was mighty in his words and in his deeds.
7:23. And when he was full forty years old, it came into his heart to
visit his brethren, the children of Israel.
7:24. And when he had seen one of them suffer wrong, he defended him:
and striking the Egyptian, he avenged him who suffered the injury.
7:25. And he thought that his brethren understood that God by his hand
would save them.  But they understood it not.
7:26. And the day following, he shewed himself to them when they were
at strife and would have reconciled them in peace, saying:  Men, ye are
brethren.  Why hurt you one another?
7:27. But he that did the injury to his neighbour thrust him away,
saying:  Who hath appointed thee prince and judge over us:
7:28. What!  Wilt thou kill me, as thou didst yesterday kill the
7:29. And Moses fled upon this word:  and was a stranger in the land of
Madian, where he begot two sons.
7:30. And when forty years were expired, there appeared to him, in the
desert of mount Sina, an angel in a flame of fire in a bush.
7:31. And Moses seeing it wondered at the sight.  And as he drew near to
view it, the voice of the Lord came unto him, saying:
7:32. I am the God of thy fathers:  the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac
and the God of Jacob.  And Moses being terrified durst not behold.
7:33. And the Lord said to him:  Loose the shoes from thy feet:  for the
place wherein thou standest is holy ground.
7:34. Seeing, I have seen the affliction of my people which is in
Egypt:  and I have heard their groaning and am come down to deliver
them.  And now come:  and I will send thee into Egypt.
7:35. This Moses, whom they refused, saying:  Who hath appointed thee
prince and judge?  Him God sent to be prince and redeemer, by the hand
of the angel who appeared to him in the burning bush.
7:36. He brought them out, doing wonders and signs in the land of Egypt
and in the Red Sea and in the desert, forty years.
7:37. This is that Moses who said to the children of Israel:  A prophet
shall God raise up to you of your own brethren, as myself.  Him shall
7:38. This is he that was in the church in the wilderness, with the
angel who spoke to him on Mount Sina and with our fathers.  Who received
the words of life to give unto us.
7:39. Whom our fathers would not obey:  but thrust him away and in their
hearts turned back into Egypt,
7:40. Saying to Aaron:  Make us gods to go before us.  For as for this
Moses, who brought us out of the land of Egypt, we know not what is
become of him.
7:41. And they made a calf in those days and offered sacrifices to the
idol and rejoiced in the works of their own hands.
7:42. And God turned and gave them up to serve the host of heaven, as
it is written in the books of the prophets:  Did you offer victims and
sacrifices to me for forty years, in the desert, O house of Israel?
7:43. And you took unto you the tabernacle of Moloch and the star of
your god Rempham, figures which you made to adore them.  And I will
carry you away beyond Babylon.
7:44. The tabernacle of the testimony was with our fathers in the
desert, as God ordained for them, speaking to Moses, that he should
make it according to the form which he had seen.
7:45. Which also our fathers receiving, brought in with Jesus, into the
possession of the Gentiles:  whom God drove out before the face of our
fathers, unto the days of David,
Jesus. . .That is Josue, so called in Greek.
7:46. Who found grace before God and desired to find a tabernacle for
the God of Jacob.
7:47. But Solomon built him a house,
7:48. Yet the most High dwelleth not in houses made by hands, as the
prophet saith:
Dwelleth not in houses, etc. . .That is, so as to stand in need of
earthly dwellings, or to be contained, or circumscribed by them.
Though, otherwise by his immense divinity, he is in our houses; and
every where else; and Christ in his humanity dwelt in houses; and is
now on our altars.
7:49. Heaven is my throne and the earth my footstool.  What house will
you build me (saith the Lord)?  Or what is the place of my resting?
7:50. Hath not my hand made all these things?
7:51. You stiffnecked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always
resist the Holy Ghost.  As your fathers did, so do you also.
7:52. Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted?  And they
have slain them who foretold of the coming of the Just One:  of whom you
have been now the betrayers and murderers.
7:53. Who have received the law by the disposition of angels and have
not kept it.
7:54. Now hearing these things, they were cut to the heart:  and they
gnashed with their teeth at him.
7:55. But he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looking up steadfastly to
heaven, saw the glory of God and Jesus standing on the right hand of
God.  And he said:  Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of man
standing on the right hand of God.
7:56. And they, crying out with a loud voice, stopped their ears and
with one accord ran violently upon him.
7:57. And casting him forth without the city.  they stoned him.  And the
witnesses laid down their garments at the feet of a young man, whose
name was Saul.
7:58. And they stoned Stephen, invoking and saying:  Lord Jesus, receive
7:59. And falling on his knees, he cried with a loud voice, saying:
Lord, lay not his sin to their charge:  And when he had said this, he
fell asleep in the Lord.  And Saul was consenting to his death.
Acts Chapter 8
Philip converts the Samaritans and baptizes the eunuch.
8:1. And at that time, there was raised a great persecution against the
church which was at Jerusalem.  And they were all dispersed through the
countries of Judea, and Samaria, except the apostles.
8:2. And devout men took order for Stephen's funeral and made great
mourning over him.
8:3. But Saul made havock of the church, entering in from house to
house:  and dragging away men and women, committed them to prison.
8:4. They therefore that were dispersed went about preaching the word
8:5. And Philip, going down to the city of Samaria, preached Christ
8:6. And the people with one accord were attentive to those things
which were said by Philip, hearing, and seeing the miracles which he
8:7. For many of them who had unclean spirits, crying with a loud
voice, went out.
8:8. And many, taken with the palsy, and that were lame, were healed.
8:9. There was therefore great joy in that city.  Now there was a
certain man named Simon who before had been a magician in that city,
seducing the people of Samaria, giving out that he was some great one:
8:10. To whom they all gave ear, from the least to the greatest,
saying:  This man is the power of God, which is called great.
8:11. And they were attentive to him, because, for a long time, he had
bewitched them with his magical practices.
8:12. But when they had believed Philip preaching of the kingdom of
God, in the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and
8:13. Then Simon himself believed also and, being baptized, he adhered
to Philip.  And being astonished, wondered to see the signs and
exceeding great miracles which were done.
8:14. Now, when the apostles, who were in Jerusalem, had heard that
Samaria had received the word of God, they sent unto them Peter and
8:15. Who, when they were come, prayed for them that they might receive
the Holy Ghost.
8:16. For he was not as yet come upon any of them:  but they were only
baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus.
8:17. Then they laid their hands upon them:  and they received the Holy
They laid their hands upon them, etc. . .The apostles administered the
sacrament of confirmation, by imposition of hands, and prayer; and the
faithful thereby received the Holy Ghost.  Not but they had received the
grace of the Holy Ghost at their baptism:  yet not that plenitude of
grace and those spiritual gifts which they afterwards received from
bishops in the sacrament of confirmation, which strengthened them to
profess their faith publicly.
8:18. And when Simon saw that, by the imposition of the hands of the
apostles, the Holy Ghost was given, he offered them money,
8:19. Saying:  Give me also this power, that on whomsoever I shall lay
my hands, he may receive the Holy Ghost.  But Peter said to him:
8:20. Keep thy money to thyself, to perish with thee:  because thou hast
thought that the gift of God may be purchased with money.
8:21. Thou hast no part nor lot in this matter.  For thy heart is not
right in the sight of God.
8:22. Do penance therefore for this thy wickedness:  and pray to God,
that perhaps this thought of thy heart may be forgiven thee.
8:23. For I see thou art in the gall of bitterness and in the bonds of
8:24. Then Simon answering, said:  Pray you for me to the Lord that none
of these things which you have spoken may come upon me.
8:25. And they indeed, having testified and preached the word of the
Lord, returned to Jerusalem:  and preached the gospel to many countries
of the Samaritans.
8:26. Now an angel of the Lord spoke to Philip, saying:  Arise, go
towards the south, to the way that goeth down from Jerusalem into Gaza:
this is desert.
8:27. And rising up, he went.  And behold, a man of Ethiopia, an eunuch,
of great authority under Candace the queen of the Ethiopians, who had
charge over all her treasures, had come to Jerusalem to adore.
8:28. And he was returning, sitting in his chariot and reading Isaias
the prophet.
8:29. And the Spirit said to Philip:  Go near and join thyself to this
8:30. And Philip running thither, heard him reading the prophet Isaias.
And he said:  Thinkest thou that thou understandest what thou readest?
8:31. Who said:  And how can I, unless some man shew me?  And he desired
Philip that he would come up and sit with him.
8:32. And the place of the scripture which he was reading was this:  He
was led as a sheep to the slaughter:  and like a lamb without voice
before his shearer, so openeth he not his mouth.
8:33. In humility his judgment was taken away.  His generation who shall
declare, for his life shall be taken from the earth?
8:34. And the eunuch answering Philip, said:  I beseech thee, of whom
doth the prophet speak this?  Of himself, or of some other man?
8:35. Then Philip, opening his mouth and beginning at this scripture,
preached unto him Jesus.
8:36. And as they went on their way, they came to a certain water.  And
the eunuch said:  See, here is water:  What doth hinder me from being
8:37. And Philip said:  If thou believest with all thy heart, thou
mayest.  And he answering, said:  I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son
If thou believest with all thy heart. . .The scripture many times
mentions only one disposition, as here belief, when others equally
necessary are not expressed, viz., a sorrow for sins, a firm hope, and
the love of God.  Moreover, believing with the whole heart signifies a
belief of every thing necessary for salvation.
8:38. And he commanded the chariot to stand still.  And they went down
into the water, both Philip and the eunuch.  And he baptized him.
8:39. And when they were come up out of the water, the Spirit of the
Lord took away Philip:  and the eunuch saw him no more.  And he went on
his way rejoicing.
8:40. But Philip was found in Azotus:  and passing through, he preached
the gospel to all the cities, till he came to Caesarea.
Acts Chapter 9
Paul's conversion and zeal.  Peter heals Eneas and raises up Tabitha to
9:1. And Saul, as yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against
the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest
9:2. And asked of him letters to Damascus, to the synagogues:  that if
he found any men and women of this way, he might bring them bound to
9:3. And as he went on his journey, it came to pass that he drew nigh
to Damascus.  And suddenly a light from heaven shined round about him.
9:4. And falling on the ground, he heard a voice saying to him:  Saul,
Saul, why persecutest thou me?
9:5. Who said:  Who art thou, Lord?  And he:  I am Jesus whom thou
persecutest.  It is hard for thee to kick against the goad.
9:6. And he, trembling and astonished, said:  Lord, what wilt thou have
9:7. And the Lord said to him:  Arise and go into the city; and there it
shall be told thee what thou must do.  Now the men who went in company
with him stood amazed, hearing indeed a voice but seeing no man.
9:8. And Saul arose from the ground:  and when his eyes were opened, he
saw nothing.  But they, leading him by the hands, brought him to
9:9. And he was there three days without sight:  and he did neither eat
9:10. Now there was a certain disciple at Damascus, named Ananias.  And
the Lord said to him in a vision:  Ananias, And he said:  Behold I am
9:11. And the Lord said to him:  Arise and go into the street that is
called Strait and seek in the house of Judas, one named Saul of Tarsus.
For behold he prayeth.
9:12. (And he saw a man named Ananias coming in and putting his hands
upon him, that he might receive his sight.)
9:13. But Ananias answered:  Lord, I have heard by many of this man, how
much evil he hath done to thy saints in Jerusalem.
9:14. And here he hath authority from the chief priests to bind all
that invoke thy name.
9:15. And the Lord said to him:  Go thy way:  for this man is to me a
vessel of election, to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and
the children of Israel.
9:16. For I will shew him how great things he must suffer for my name's
9:17. And Ananias went his way and entered into the house.  And laying
his hands upon him, he said:  Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus hath sent me,
he that appeared to thee in the way as thou camest, that thou mayest
receive thy sight and be filled with the Holy Ghost.
9:18. And immediately there fell from his eyes as it were scales:  and
he received his sight.  And rising up, he was baptized.
9:19. And when he had taken meat, he was strengthened.  And he was with
the disciples that were at Damascus, for some days.
9:20. And immediately he preached Jesus in the synagogues, that he is
the son of God.
9:21. And all that heard him were astonished and said:  Is not this he
who persecuted in Jerusalem those that called upon this name and came
hither for that intent, that he might carry them bound to the chief
9:22. But Saul increased much more in strength and confounded the Jews
who dwelt at Damascus, affirming that this is the Christ.
9:23. And when many days were passed, the Jews consulted together to
9:24. But their lying in wait was made known to Saul.  And they watched
the gates also day and night, that they might kill him.
9:25. But the disciples, taking him in the night, conveyed him away by
the wall, letting him down in a basket.
9:26. And when he was come into Jerusalem, he essayed to join himself
to the disciples:  and they all were afraid of him, not believing that
he was a disciple.
9:27. But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles and told
them how he had seen the Lord, and that he had spoken to him:  and how
in Damascus he had dealt confidently in the name of Jesus.
9:28. And he was with them, coming in and going out in Jerusalem and
dealing confidently in the name of the Lord.
9:29. He spoke also to the Gentiles and disputed with the Greeks.  But
they sought to kill him.
9:30. Which when the brethren had known, they brought him down to
Caesarea and sent him away to Tarsus.
9:31. Now, the church had peace throughout all Judea and Galilee and
Samaria:  and was edified, walking in the fear of the Lord:  and was
filled with the consolation of the Holy Ghost.
9:32. And it came to pass that Peter, as he passed through, visiting
all, came to the saints who dwelt at Lydda.
9:33. And he found there a certain man named Eneas, who had kept his
bed for eight years, who was ill of the palsy.
9:34. And Peter said to him:  Eneas, the Lord Jesus Christ healeth thee.
Arise and make thy bed.  And immediately he arose.
9:35. And all that dwelt at Lydda and Saron saw him:  who were converted
to the Lord.
9:36. And in Joppe there was a certain disciple named Tabitha, which by
interpretation is called Dorcas.  This woman was full of good works and
almsdeeds which she did.
9:37. And it came to pass in those days that she was sick and died.
Whom when they had washed, they laid her in an upper chamber.
9:38. And forasmuch as Lydda was nigh to Joppe, the disciples, hearing
that Peter was there, sent unto him two men, desiring him that he would
not be slack to come unto them.
9:39. And Peter rising up went with them.  And when he was come, they
brought him into the upper chamber.  And all the widows stood about him,
weeping and shewing him the coats and garments which Dorcas made them.
9:40. And they all being put forth, Peter, kneeling down, prayed.  And
turning to the body, he said:  Tabitha, arise.  And she opened her eyes
and, seeing Peter, sat up.
9:41. And giving her his hand, he lifted her up.  And when he had called
the saints and the widows, he presented her alive.
9:42. And it was made known throughout all Joppe.  And many believed in
9:43. And it cane to pass that he abode many days in Joppe, with one
Simon a tanner.
Acts Chapter 10
Cornelius is received into the church.  Peter's vision.
10:1. And there was a certain man in Caesarea, named Cornelius, a
centurion of that which is called the Italian band:
10:2. A religious man, and fearing God with all his house, giving much
alms to the people and always praying to God.
10:3. This man saw in a vision manifestly, about the ninth hour of the
day, an angel of God coming in unto him and saying to him:  Cornelius.
10:4. And he, beholding him.  being seized with fear, said:  What is it,
Lord?  And he said to him:  Thy prayers and thy alms are ascended for a
memorial in the sight of God.
10:5. And now send men to Joppe:  and call hither one Simon, who is
surnamed Peter.
10:6. He lodgeth with one Simon a tanner, whose house is by the sea
side.  He will tell thee what thou must do.
10:7. And when the angel who spoke to him was departed, he called two
of his household servants and a soldier who feared the Lord, of them
that were under him.
10:8. To whom when he had related all, he sent them to Joppe.
10:9. And on the next day, whilst they were going on their journey and
drawing nigh to the city, Peter went up to the higher parts of the
house to pray, about the sixth hour.
10:10. And being hungry, he was desirous to taste somewhat.  And as they
were preparing, there came upon him an ecstasy of mind.
10:11. And he saw the heaven opened and a certain vessel descending, as
it were a great linen sheet let down by the four corners from heaven to
10:12. Wherein were all manner of four-footed beasts and creeping
things of the earth and fowls of the air.
10:13. And there came a voice to him:  Arise, Peter.  Kill and eat.
10:14. But Peter said:  Far be it from me.  For I never did eat any thing
that is common and unclean.
10:15. And the voice spoke to him again the second time:  That which God
hath cleansed, do not thou call common.
10:16. And this was done thrice.  And presently the vessel was taken up
into heaven.
10:17. Now, whilst Peter was doubting within himself what the vision
that he had seen should mean, behold the men who were sent from
Cornelius, inquiring for Simon's house, stood at the gate.
10:18. And when they had called, they asked if Simon, who is surnamed
Peter, were lodged there.
10:19. And as Peter was thinking of the vision, the Spirit said to him:
Behold three men seek thee.
10:20. Arise, therefore:  get thee down and go with them, doubting
nothing:  for I have sent them.
10:21. Then Peter, going down to the men, said:  Behold, I am he whom
you seek.  What is the cause for which you are come?
10:22. Who said:  Cornelius, a centurion, a just man and one that
feareth God, and having good testimony from all the nation of the Jews,
received an answer of an holy angel, to send for thee into his house
And to hear words of thee.
10:23. Then bringing them in, he lodged them.  And the day following, he
arose and went with them:  and some of the brethren from Joppe
accompanied him.
10:24. And the morrow after, he entered into Caesarea.  And Cornelius
waited for them, having called together his kinsmen and special
10:25. And it came to pass that when Peter was come in, Cornelius came
to meet him and falling at his feet adored.
10:26. But Peter lifted him up, saying:  Arise:  I myself also am a man.
10:27. And talking with him, he went in and found many that were come
10:28. And he said to them:  you know how abominable it is for a man
that is a Jew to keep company or to come unto one of another nation:
but God hath shewed to me, to call no man common or unclean.
10:29. For which cause, making no doubt, I came when I was sent for.  I
ask, therefore, for what cause you have sent for me?
10:30. And Cornelius said:  Four days ago, unto this hour, I was praying
in my house, at the ninth hour and behold a man stood before me in
white apparel and said:
10:31. Cornelius, thy prayer is heard and thy alms are had in
remembrance in the sight of God.
10:32. Send therefore to Joppe:  and call hither Simon, who is surnamed
Peter.  He lodgeth in the house of Simon a tanner, by the sea side.
10:33. Immediately therefore I sent to thee:  and thou hast done well in
coming.  Now, therefore, all we are present in thy sight to hear all
things whatsoever are commanded thee by the Lord.
10:34. And Peter opening his mouth, said:  in very deed I perceive that
God is not a respecter of persons.
10:35. But in every nation, he that feareth him and worketh justice is
acceptable to him.
In every nation, etc. . .That is to say, not only Jews, but Gentiles
also, of what nation soever, are acceptable to God, if they fear him
and work justice.  But then true faith is always to be presupposed,
without which (saith St. Paul, Heb. 11. 6) it is impossible to please
God.  Beware then of the error of those, who would infer from this
passage, that men of all religions may be pleasing to God.  For since
none but the true religion can be from God, all other religions must be
from the father of lies, and therefore highly displeasing to the God of
10:36. God sent the word to the children of Israel, preaching peace by
Jesus Christ (He is Lord of all).
10:37. You know the word which hath been published through all Judea:
for it began from Galilee, after the baptism which John preached.
10:38. Jesus of Nazareth:  how God anointed him with the Holy Ghost and
with power, who went about doing good and healing all that were
oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.
10:39. And we are witnesses of all things that he did in the land of
the Jews and in Jerusalem:  whom they killed, hanging him upon a tree.
10:40. Him God raised up the third day and gave him to be made
10:41. Not to all the people, but to witnesses preordained by God, even
to us, who did eat and drink with him, after he arose again from the
10:42. And he commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that
it is he who was appointed by God to be judge of the living and of the
10:43. To him all the prophets give testimony, that by his name all
receive remission of sins, who believe in him.
10:44. While Peter was yet speaking these words, the Holy Ghost fell on
all them that heard the word.
10:45. And the faithful of the circumcision, who came with Peter, were
astonished for that the grace of the Holy Ghost was poured out upon the
Gentiles also.
10:46. For they heard them speaking with tongues and magnifying God.
10:47. Then Peter answered:  Can any man forbid water, that these should
not be baptized, who have received the Holy Ghost, as well as we?
10:48. And he commanded them to be baptized in the name of the Lord
Jesus Christ.  Then they desired him to tarry with them some days.
Acts Chapter 11
Peter defends his having received the Gentiles into the church.
11:1. And the apostles and brethren, who were in Judea, heard that the
Gentiles also had received the word of God.
11:2. And when Peter was come up to Jerusalem, they that were of the
circumcision contended with him,
11:3. Saying:  Why didst thou go in to men uncircumcised and didst eat
11:4. But Peter began and declared to them the matter in order, saying:
11:5. I was in the city of Joppe praying:  and I saw in an ecstasy of
mind a vision, a certain vessel descending, as it were a great sheet
let down from heaven by four corners.  And it came even unto me.
11:6. Into which looking, I considered and saw fourfooted creatures of
the earth and beasts and creeping things and fowls of the air.
11:7. And I heard also a voice saying to me:  Arise, Peter.  Kill and
11:8. And I said:  Not so, Lord:  for nothing common or unclean hath ever
entered into my mouth.
11:9. And the voice answered again from heaven:  What God hath made
clean, do not thou call common.
11:10. And this was done three times.  And all were taken up again into
11:11. And behold, immediately there were three men come to the house
wherein I was, sent to me from Caesarea.
11:12. And the Spirit said to me that I should go with them, nothing
doubting.  And these six brethren went with me also:  and we entered into
the man's house.
11:13. And he told us how he had seen an angel in his house, standing
and saying to him:  Send to Joppe and call hither Simon, who is surnamed
11:14. Who shall speak to thee words whereby thou shalt be saved, and
all thy house.
11:15. And when I had begun to speak, the Holy Ghost fell upon them, as
upon us also in the beginning.
11:16. And I remembered the word of the Lord, how that he said:  John
indeed baptized with water but you shall be baptized with the Holy
11:17. If then God gave them the same grace as to us also who believed
in the Lord Jesus Christ:  who was I, that could withstand God?
11:18. Having heard these things, they held their peace and glorified
God, saying:  God then hath also to the Gentiles given repentance, unto
11:19. Now they who had been dispersed by the persecution that arose on
occasion of Stephen went about as far as Phenice and Cyprus and
Antioch, speaking the word to none, but to the Jews only.
11:20. But some of them were men of Cyprus and Cyrene, who, when they
were entered into Antioch, spoke also to the Greeks, preaching the Lord
11:21. And the hand of he Lord was with them:  and a great number
believing, were converted to the Lord.
11:22. And the tidings came to the ears of the church that was at
Jerusalem, touching these things:  and they sent Barnabas as far as
11:23. Who, when he was come and had seen the grace of God, rejoiced.
And he exhorted them all with purpose of heart to continue in the Lord.
11:24. For he was a good man and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith.
And a great multitude was added to the Lord.
11:25. And Barnabas went to Tarsus to seek Saul:  whom, when he had
found, he brought to Antioch.
11:26. And they conversed there in the church a whole year:  and they
taught a great multitude, so that at Antioch the disciples were first
named Christians.
11:27. And in these days there came prophets from Jerusalem to Antioch.
11:28. And one of them named Agabus, rising up, signified by the Spirit
that there should be a great famine over the whole world, which came to
pass under Claudius.
11:29. And the disciples, every man according to his ability, purposed
to send relief to the brethren who dwelt in Judea.
11:30. Which also they did, sending it to the ancients, by the hands of
Barnabas and Saul.
Acts Chapter 12
Herod's persecution.  Peter's deliverance by an angel.  Herod's
12:1. And at the same time, Herod the king stretched forth his hands,
to afflict some of the church.
12:2. And he killed James, the brother of John, With the sword.
12:3. And seeing that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to take up
Peter also.  Now it was in the days of the Azymes.
Azymes. . .The festival of the unleavened bread, or the pasch, which
answers to our Easter.
12:4. And when he had apprehended him, he cast him into prison,
delivering him to four files of soldiers, to be kept, intending, after
the pasch, to bring him forth to the people.
12:5. Peter therefore was kept in prison.  But prayer was made without
ceasing by the church unto God for him.
12:6. And when Herod would have brought him forth, the same night,
Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains:  and the
keepers before the door kept the prison.
12:7. And behold an angel of the Lord stood by him and a light shined
in the room.  And he, striking Peter on the side, raised him up, saying:
Arise quickly.  And the chains fell off from his hands.
12:8. And the angel said to him:  Gird thyself and put on thy sandals.
And he did so.  And he said to him:  Cast thy garment about thee and
12:9. And going out, he followed him.  And he knew not that it was true
which was done by the angel:  but thought he saw a vision.
12:10. And passing through the first and the second ward, they came to
the iron gate that leadeth to the city which of itself opened to them.
And going out, they passed on through one street.  And immediately the
angel departed from him.
12:11. And Peter coming to himself, said:  Now I know in very deed that
the Lord hath sent his angel and hath delivered me out of the hand of
Herod and from all the expectation of the people of the Jews.
12:12. And considering, he came to the house of Mary the mother of
John, who was surnamed Mark, where many were gathered together and
12:13. And when he knocked at the door of the gate, a damsel came to
hearken.  whose name was Rhode.
12:14. And as soon as she knew Peter's voice, she opened not the gate
for joy:  but running in she told that Peter stood before the gate.
12:15. But they said to her:  Thou art mad.  But she affirmed that it was
so.  Then said they:  It is his angel.
12:16. But Peter continued knocking.  And when they had opened, they saw
him and were astonished.
12:17. But he, beckoning to them with his hand to hold their peace,
told how the Lord had brought him out of prison.  And he said:  Tell
these things to James and to the brethren.  And going out, he went into
another place.
12:18. Now when day was come, there was no small stir among the
soldiers, what was become of Peter.
12:19. And when Herod had sought for him and found him not, having
examined the keepers, he commanded they should be put to death.  And
going down from Judea to Caesarea, he abode there.
12:20. And he was angry with the Tyrians and the Sidonians.  But they
with one accord came to him:  and, having gained Blastus who was the
king's chamberlain, they desired peace, because their countries were
nourished by him.
12:21. And upon a day appointed, Herod being arrayed in kingly apparel,
sat in the judgment seat and made an oration to them.
12:22. And the people made acclamation, saying:  It is the voice of a
god, and not of a man.
12:23. And forthwith an angel of the Lord struck him, because he had
not given the honour to God:  and, being eaten up by worms, he gave up
12:24. But the word of the Lord increased and multiplied.
12:25. And Barnabas and Saul, returned from Jerusalem, having fulfilled
their ministry, taking with them John who was surnamed Mark.
Acts Chapter 13
Saul and Barnabas are sent forth by the Holy Ghost.  They preach in
Cyprus and in Antioch of Pisidia.
13:1. Now there were in the church which was at Antioch prophets and
doctors, among whom was Barnabas and Simon who was called Niger, and
Lucius of Cyrene and Manahen who was the foster brother of Herod the
tetrarch, and Saul.
13:2. And as they were ministering to the Lord and fasting, the Holy
Ghost said to them:  Separate me Saul and Barnabas, for the work
whereunto I have taken them.
13:3. Then they fasting and praying and imposing their hands upon them,
sent them away.
13:4. So they, being sent by the Holy Ghost, went to Seleucia:  and from
thence they sailed to Cyprus.
13:5. And when they were come to Salamina, they preached the word of
God in the synagogues of the Jews.  And they had John also in the
13:6. And when they had gone through the whole island, as far as
Paphos, they found a certain man, a magician, a false prophet, a Jew,
whose name was Bar-Jesu:
13:7. Who was with the proconsul Sergius Paulus, a prudent man.  He,
sending for Barnabas and Saul, desired to hear the word of God.
13:8. But Elymas the magician (for so his name is interpreted)
withstood them, seeking to turn away the proconsul from the faith.
13:9. Then Saul, otherwise Paul, filled with the Holy Ghost, looking
13:10. Said:  O full of all guile and of all deceit, child of the devil,
enemy of all justice, thou ceases not to pervert the right ways of the
13:11. And now behold, the hand of the Lord is upon thee:  and thou
shalt be blind, not seeing the sun for a time.  And immediately there
fell a mist and darkness upon him:  and going about, he sought some one
to lead him by the hand.
13:12. Then the proconsul, when he had seen what was done, believed,
admiring at the doctrine of the Lord.
13:13. Now when Paul and they that were with him had sailed from
Paphos, they came to Perge in Pamphylia.  And John departing from them,
returned to Jerusalem.
13:14. But they, passing through Perge, came to Antioch in Pisidia:
and, entering into the Synagogue on the sabbath day, they sat down.
13:15. And after the reading of the law and the prophets, the rulers of
the synagogue sent to them, saying:  Ye men, brethren, if you have any
word of exhortation to make to the people, speak.
13:16. Then Paul rising up and with his hand bespeaking silence, said:
Ye men of Israel and you that fear God, give ear.
13:17. The God of the people of Israel chose our fathers and exalted
the people when they were sojourners in the land of Egypt:  And with an
high arm brought them out from thence:
13:18. And for the space of forty years endured their manners in the
13:19. And, destroying seven nations in the land of Chaanan, divided
their land among them by lot.
13:20. As it were, after four hundred and fifty years.  And after these
things, he gave unto them judges, until Samuel the prophet.
13:21. And after that they desired a king:  and God gave them Saul the
son of Cis, a man of the tribe of Benjamin, forty years.
13:22. And when he had removed him, he raised them up David to be king:
to whom giving testimony, he said:  I have found David, the son of
Jesse, a man according to my own heart, who shall do all my wills.
13:23. Of this man's seed, God, according to his promise, hath raised
up to Israel a Saviour Jesus:
13:24. John first preaching, before his coming, the baptism of penance
to all the people of Israel.
13:25. And when John was fulfilling his course, he said:  I am not he
whom you think me to be.  But behold, there cometh one after me, whose
shoes of his feet I am not worthy to loose.
13:26. Men, brethren, children of the stock of Abraham, and whosoever
among you fear God:  to you the word of this salvation is sent.
13:27. For they that inhabited Jerusalem and the rulers thereof, not
knowing him, nor the voices of the prophets which are read every
sabbath, judging him, have fulfilled them.
13:28. And finding no cause of death in him, they desired of Pilate
that they might kill him.
13:29. And when they had fulfilled all things that were written of him,
taking him down from the tree, they laid him in a sepulchre.
13:30. But God raised him up from the dead the third day.
13:31. Who was seen for many days by them who came up with him from
Galilee to Jerusalem, who to this present are his witnesses to the
13:32. And we declare unto you that the promise which was made to our
13:33. This same God hath fulfilled to our children, raising up Jesus,
as in the second psalm also is written:  Thou art my Son:  this day have
I begotten thee.
13:34. And to shew that he raised him up from the dead, not to return
now any more to corruption, he said thus:  I will give you the holy
things of David, faithful.
I will give you the holy, etc. . .These are the words of the prophet
Isaias, 55. 3.  According to the Septuagint, the sense is:  I will
faithfully fulfil the promises I made to David.
13:35. And therefore, in another place also, he saith:  Thou shalt not
suffer thy holy one to see corruption.
13:36. For David, when he had served in his generation, according to
the will of God, slept:  and was laid unto his fathers and saw
13:37. But he whom God hath raised from the dead saw no corruption.
13:38. Be it known therefore to you, men, brethren, that through him
forgiveness of sins is preached to you:  and from all the things from
which you could not be justified by the law of Moses.
13:39. In him every one that believeth is justified.
13:40. Beware, therefore, lest that come upon you which is spoken in
the prophets:
13:41. Behold, ye despisers, and wonder and perish:  for I work a work
in your days, a work which you will not believe, if any man shall tell
13:42. And as they went out, they desired them that on the next sabbath
they would speak unto them these words.
13:43. And when the synagogue was broken up, many of the Jews and of
the strangers who served God followed Paul and Barnabas:  who, speaking
to them, persuaded them to continue in the grace of God.
13:44. But the next sabbath day, the whole city almost came together,
to hear the word of God.
13:45. And the Jews, seeing the multitudes, were filled with envy and
contradicted those things which were said by Paul, blaspheming.
13:46. Then Paul and Barnabas said boldly:  To you it behoved us first
to speak the word of God:  but because you reject it and judge
yourselves unworthy of eternal life, behold we turn to the Gentiles.
13:47. For so the Lord hath commanded us:  I have set thee to be the
light of the Gentiles:  that thou mayest be for salvation unto the
utmost part of the earth.
13:48. And the Gentiles hearing it were glad and glorified the word of
the Lord:  and as many as were ordained to life everlasting believed.
13:49. And the word of the Lord was published throughout the whole
13:50. But the Jews stirred up religious and honourable women and the
chief men of the city:  and raised persecution against Paul and
Barnabas:  and cast them out of their coasts.
13:51. But they, shaking off the dust of their feet against them, came
13:52. And the disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Ghost.
Acts Chapter 14
Paul and Barnabas preach in Iconium and Lystra.  Paul heals a cripple.
They are taken for gods.  Paul is stoned.  They preach in Derbe and
14:1. And it came to pass in Iconium that they entered together into
the synagogue of the Jews and so spoke that a very great multitude both
of the Jews and of the Greeks did believe.
14:2. But the unbelieving Jews stirred up and incensed the minds of the
Gentiles against the brethren.
14:3. A long time therefore they abode there, dealing confidently in
the Lord, who gave testimony to the word of his grace, granting signs
and wonders to be done by their hands.
14:4. And the multitude of the city was divided.  And some of them
indeed held with the Jews, but some with the apostles.
14:5. And when there was an assault made by the Gentiles and the Jews
with their rulers, to use them contumeliously and to stone them:
14:6. They, understanding it, fled to Lystra and Derbe, cities of
Lycaonia, and to the whole country round about:  and were there
preaching the gospel.
14:7. And there sat a certain man at Lystra, impotent in his feet, a
cripple from his mother's womb, who never had walked.
14:8. This same heard Paul speaking.  Who looking upon him and seeing
that he had faith to be healed,
14:9. Said with a loud voice:  Stand upright on thy feet.  And he leaped
up and walked.
14:10. And when the multitudes had seen what Paul had done, they lifted
up their voice in the Lycaonian tongue, saying:  The gods are come down
to us in the likeness of men.
14:11. And they called Barnabas, Jupiter:  but Paul, Mercury:  because he
was chief speaker.
14:12. The priest also of Jupiter that was before the city, bringing
oxen and garlands before the gate, would have offered sacrifice with
14:13. Which, when the apostles Barnabas and Paul had heard, rending
their clothes, they leaped out among the people, crying,
14:14. And saying:  Ye men, why do ye these things?  We also are mortals,
men like unto you, preaching to you to be converted from these vain
things to the living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea
and all things that are in them:
14:15. Who in times past, suffered all nations to walk in their own
14:16. Nevertheless he left not himself without testimony, doing good
from heaven, giving rains and fruitful Seasons, filling our hearts with
food and gladness.
14:17. And speaking these things, they scarce restrained the people
from sacrificing to them.
14:18. Now there came thither certain Jews from Antioch and Iconium:
and, persuading the multitude and stoning Paul, drew him out of the
city, thinking him to be dead.
14:19. But as the disciples stood round about him, he rose up and
entered into the city:  and the next day he departed with Barnabas to
14:20. And when they had preached the gospel to that city and had
taught many, they returned again to Lystra and to Iconium and to
14:21. Confirming the souls of the disciples and exhorting them to
continue in the faith:  and that through many tribulations we must enter
into the kingdom of God.
14:22. And when they had ordained to them priests in every church and
had prayed with fasting, they commended them to the Lord, in whom they
14:23. And passing through Pisidia, they came into Pamphylia.
14:24. And having spoken the word of the Lord in Perge, they went down
into Attalia.
14:25. And thence they sailed to Antioch, from whence they had been
delivered to the grace of God, unto the work which they accomplished.
14:26. And when they were come and had assembled the church, they
related what great things God had done with them and how he had opened
the door of faith to the Gentiles.
14:27. And they abode no small time with the disciples.
Acts Chapter 15
A dissension about circumcision.  The decision and letter of the council
of Jerusalem.
15:1. And some, coming down from Judea, taught the brethren:  That,
except you be circumcised after the manner of Moses, you cannot be
15:2. And when Paul and Barnabas had no small contest with them, they
determined that Paul and Barnabas and certain others of the other side
should go up to the apostles and priests to Jerusalem, about this
15:3. They therefore, being brought on their way by the church, passed
through Phenice and Samaria, relating the conversion of the Gentiles.
And they caused great joy to all the brethren.
15:4. And when they were come to Jerusalem, they were received by the
church and by the apostles and ancients, declaring how great things God
had done with them.
15:5. But there arose of the sect of the Pharisees some that believed,
saying:  They must be circumcised and be commanded to observe the law of
15:6. And the apostles and ancients assembled to consider of this
15:7. And when there had been much disputing, Peter, rising up, said to
them:  Men, brethren, you know that in former days God made choice among
us, that by my mouth the Gentiles should hear the word of the gospel
and believe.
15:8. And God, who knoweth the hearts, gave testimony, giving unto them
the Holy Ghost, as well as to us:
15:9. And put no difference between us and them, purifying their hearts
15:10. Now therefore, why tempt you God to put a yoke upon the necks of
the disciples which neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear?
15:11. But by the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, we believe to be
saved, in like manner as they also.
15:12. And all the multitude held their peace:  and they heard Barnabas
and Paul telling what great signs and wonders God had wrought among the
Gentiles by them.
15:13. And after they had held their peace, James answered, saying:
Men, brethren, hear me.
15:14. Simon hath related how God first visited to take to the
Gentiles, a people to his name.
15:15. And to this agree the words of the prophets, as it is written:
15:16. After these things I will return and will rebuild the tabernacle
of David, which is fallen down:  and the ruins thereof I will rebuild.
And I will set it up:
15:17. That the residue of men may seek after the Lord, and all nations
upon whom my name is invoked, saith the Lord, who doth these things.
15:18. To the Lord was his own work known from the beginning of the
15:19. For which cause, judge that they who from among the Gentiles are
converted to God are not to be disquieted:
15:20. But that we write unto them, that they refrain themselves from
the pollutions of idols and from fornication and from things strangled
and from blood.
15:21. For Moses of old time hath in every city them that preach him in
the synagogues, where he is read every sabbath.
15:22. Then it pleased the apostles and ancients, with the whole
church, to choose men of their own company and to send to Antioch with
Paul and Barnabas, namely, Judas, who was surnamed Barsabas, and Silas,
chief men among the brethren.
15:23. Writing by their hands:  The apostles and ancients, brethren, to
the brethren of the Gentiles that are at Antioch and in Syria and
Cilicia, greeting.
15:24. Forasmuch as we have heard that some going out from us have
troubled you with words, subverting your souls, to whom we gave no
commandment:
15:25. It hath seemed good to us, being assembled together, to choose
out men and to send them unto you, with our well beloved Barnabas and
15:26. Men that have given their lives for the name of our Lord Jesus
15:27. We have sent therefore Judas and Silas, who themselves also
will, by word of mouth, tell you the same things.
15:28. For it hath seemed good to the Holy Ghost and to us to lay no
further burden upon you than these necessary things:
15:29. That you abstain from things sacrificed to idols and from blood
and from things strangled and from fornication:  from which things
keeping yourselves, you shall do well.  Fare ye well.
From blood, and from things strangled. . .The use of these things,
though of their own nature indifferent, was here prohibited, to bring
the Jews more easily to admit of the society of the Gentiles; and to
exercise the latter in obedience.  But this prohibition was but
temporary, and has long since ceased to oblige; more especially in the
western churches.
15:30. They therefore, being dismissed, went down to Antioch and,
gathering together the multitude, delivered the epistle.
15:31. Which when they had read, they rejoiced for the consolation.
15:32. But Judas and Silas, being prophets also themselves, with many
words comforted the brethren and confirmed them.
15:33. And after they had spent some time there, they were let go with
peace by the brethren unto them that had sent them.
15:34. But it seemed good unto Silas to remain there:  and Judas alone
departed to Jerusalem.
15:35. And Paul and Barnabas continued at Antioch, teaching and
preaching, with many others, the word of the Lord.
15:36. And after some days, Paul said to Barnabas:  Let us return and
visit our brethren in all the cities wherein we have preached the word
of the Lord, to see how they do.
15:37. And Barnabas would have taken with them John also, that was
surnamed Mark.
15:38. But Paul desired that he (as having departed from them out of
Pamphylia and not gone with them to the work) might not be received.
15:39. And there arose a dissension so that they departed one from
another.  And Barnabas indeed, taking Mark, sailed to Cyprus.
15:40. But Paul, choosing Silas, departed, being delivered by the
brethren to the grace of God.
15:41. And he went through Syria and Cilicia, confirming the churches,
commanding them to keep the precepts of the apostles and the ancients.
Acts Chapter 16
Paul visits the churches.  He is called to preach in Macedonia.  He is
scourged at Philippi.
16:1. And he came to Derbe and Lystra.  And behold, there was a certain
disciple there named Timothy, the son of a Jewish woman that believed:
but his father was a Gentile.
16:2. To this man the brethren that were in Lystra and Iconium gave a
good testimony.
16:3. Him Paul would have to go along with him:  and taking him, he
circumcised him, because of the Jews who were in those places.  For they
all knew that his father was a Gentile.
16:4. And as they passed through the cities, they delivered unto them
the decrees for to keep, that were decreed by the apostles and ancients
who were at Jerusalem.
16:5. And the churches were confirmed in faith and increased in number
16:6. And when they had passed through Phrygia and the country of
Galatia, they were forbidden by the Holy Ghost to preach the word in
16:7. And when they were come into Mysia, they attempted to go into
Bithynia:  and the Spirit of Jesus suffered them not.
16:8. And when they had passed through Mysia, they went down to Troas.
16:9. And a vision was shewed to Paul in the night, which was a man of
Macedonia standing and beseeching him and saying:  Pass over into
Macedonia and help us.
16:10. And as soon as he had seen the vision, immediately we sought to
go into Macedonia:  being assured that God had called us to preach the
gospel to them.
16:11. And sailing from Troas, we came with a straight course to
Samothracia, and the day following to Neapolis.
16:12. And from thence to Philippi, which is the chief city of part of
Macedonia, a colony.  And we were in this city some days conferring
16:13. And upon the Sabbath day, we went forth without the gate by a
river side, where it seemed that there was prayer:  and sitting down, we
spoke to the women that were assembled.
16:14. And a certain woman named Lydia, a seller of purple, of the city
of Thyatira, one that worshipped God, did hear:  whose heart the Lord
opened to attend to those things which were said by Paul.
16:15. And when she was baptized, and her household, she besought us,
saying:  If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my
house and abide there.  And she constrained us.
16:16. And it came to pass, as we went to prayer, a certain girl having
a pythonical spirit met us, who brought to her masters much gain by
A pythonical spirit. . .That is, a spirit pretending to divine, and tell
16:17. This same following Paul and us, cried out, saying:  These men
are the servants of the Most High God, who preach unto you the way of
16:18. And this she did many days.  But Paul being grieved, turned and
said to the spirit:  I command thee, in the name of Jesus Christ, to go
from her.  And he went out the same hour.
16:19. But her masters, seeing that the hope of their gain was gone,
apprehending Paul and Silas, brought them into the market place to the
16:20. And presenting them to the magistrates, they said:  These men
disturb our city, being Jews:
16:21. And preach a fashion which it is not lawful for us to receive
nor observe, being Romans.
16:22. And the people ran together against them:  and the magistrates,
rending off their clothes, commanded them to be beaten with rods.
16:23. And when they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast them
into prison, charging the gaoler to keep them diligently.
16:24. Who having received such a charge, thrust them into the inner
prison and made their feet fast in the stocks.
16:25. And at midnight, Paul and Silas, praying, praised God.  And they
that were in prison heard them.
16:26. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the
foundations of the prison were shaken.  And immediately all the doors
were opened and the bands of all were loosed.
16:27. And the keeper of the prison, awakening out of his sleep and
seeing the doors of the prison open, drawing his sword, would have
killed himself, supposing that the prisoners had been fled.
16:28. But Paul cried with a loud voice, saying:  Do thyself no harm,
for we all are here.
16:29. Then calling for a light, he went in:  and trembling, fell down
at the feet of Paul and Silas.
16:30. And bringing them out, he said:  Masters, what must I do, that I
may be saved?
16:31. But they said:  believe in the Lord Jesus:  and thou shalt be
saved, and thy house.
16:32. And they preached the word of the Lord to him and to all that
were in his house.
16:33. And he, taking them the same hour of the night, washed their
stripes:  and himself was baptized, and all his house immediately.
16:34. And when he had brought them into his own house, he laid the
table for them:  and rejoiced with all his house, believing God.
16:35. And when the day was come, the magistrates sent the serjeants,
saying:  Let those men go.
16:36. And the keeper of the prison told these words to Paul:  The
magistrates have sent to let you go.  Now therefore depart.  And go in
16:37. But Paul said to them:  They have beaten us publicly,
uncondemned, men that are Romans, and have cast us into prison.  And now
do they thrust us out privately?  Not so:  but let them come.
16:38. And let us out themselves.  And the serjeants told these words to
the magistrates.  And they were afraid:  hearing that they were Romans.
16:39. And coming, they besought them:  and bringing them out, they
desired them to depart out of the city.
16:40. And they went out of the prison and entered into the house of
Lydia:  and having seen the brethren, they comforted them and departed.
Acts Chapter 17
Paul preaches to the Thessalonians and Bereans.  His discourse to the
17:1. And when they had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they
came to Thessalonica, where there was a synagogue of the Jews.
17:2. And Paul, according to his custom, went in unto them.  And for
three sabbath days he reasoned with them out of the scriptures:
17:3. Declaring and insinuating that the Christ was to suffer and to
rise again from the dead; and that this is Jesus Christ, whom I preach
17:4. And some of them believed and were associated to Paul and Silas:
and of those that served God and of the Gentiles a great multitude:  and
of noble women not a few.
17:5. But the Jews, moved with envy and taking unto them some wicked
men of the vulgar sort and making a tumult, set the city in an uproar:
and besetting Jason's house, sought to bring them out unto the people.
17:6. And not finding them, they drew Jason and certain brethren to the
rulers of the city, crying:  They that set the city in an uproar are
come hither also:
City.  Urbem. . .In the Greek, the world.
17:7. Whom Jason hath received.  And these all do contrary to the
decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king, Jesus.
17:8. And they stirred up the people:  and the rulers of the city,
hearing these things,
17:9. And having taken satisfaction of Jason and of the rest, they let
17:10. But the brethren immediately sent away Paul and Silas by night
unto Berea.  Who, when they were come thither, went into the synagogue
of the Jews.
17:11. Now these were more noble than those in Thessalonica, who
received the word with all eagerness, daily searching the scriptures,
whether these things were so.
More noble. . .The Jews of Berea are justly commended, for their eagerly
embracing the truth, and searching the scriptures, to find out the
texts alleged by the apostle:  which was a far more generous proceeding
than that of their countrymen at Thessalonica, who persecuted the
preachers of the gospel, without examining the grounds they alleged for
what they taught.
17:12. And many indeed of them believed:  and of honourable women that
were Gentiles and of men, not a few.
17:13. And when the Jews of Thessalonica had knowledge that the word of
God was also preached by Paul at Berea, they came thither also,
stirring up and troubling the multitude.
17:14. And then immediately the brethren sent away Paul, to go unto the
sea:  but Silas and Timothy remained there.
17:15. And they that conducted Paul brought him as far as Athens:  and
receiving a commandment from him to Silas and Timothy, that they should
come to him with all speed, they departed.
17:16. Now whilst Paul waited for them at Athens, his spirit was
stirred within him, seeing the city wholly given to idolatry.
17:17. He disputed, therefore, in the synagogue with the Jews and with
them that served God:  and in the market place, every day, with them
that were there.
17:18. And certain philosophers of the Epicureans and of the Stoics
disputed with him.  And some said:  What is it that this word sower would
say?  But others:  He seemeth to be a setter forth of new gods.  Because
he preached to them Jesus and the resurrection.
17:19. And taking him, they brought him to the Areopagus, saying:  May
we know what this new doctrine is, which thou speakest of?
17:20. For thou bringest in certain new things to our ears.  We would
know therefore what these things mean.
17:21. (Now all the Athenians and strangers that were there employed
themselves in nothing else, but either in telling or in hearing some
17:22. But Paul, standing in the midst of the Areopagus, said:  Ye men
of Athens, I perceive that in all things you are too superstitious.
17:23. For passing by and seeing your idols, I found an altar also, on
which was written:  To the Unknown God.  What therefore you worship
without knowing it, that I preach to you:
17:24. God, who made the world and all things therein, he being Lord of
heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands.
Dwelleth not in temples. . .God is not contained in temples; so as to
need them for his dwelling, or any other uses, as the heathens
imagined.  Yet by his omnipresence, he is both there and everywhere.
17:25. Neither is he served with men's hands, as though he needed any
thing:  seeing it is he who giveth to all life and breath and all
17:26. And hath made of one, all mankind, to dwell upon the whole face
of the earth, determining appointed times and the limits of their
17:27. That they should seek God, if haply they may feel after him or
find him, although he be not far from every one of us.
17:28. For in him we live and move and are:  as some also of your own
poets said:  For we are also his offspring.
17:29. Being therefore the offspring of God, we must not suppose the
divinity to be like unto gold or silver or stone, the graving of art
and device of man.
17:30. And God indeed having winked at the times of this ignorance, now
declareth unto men that all should every where do penance.
17:31. Because he hath appointed a day wherein he will judge the world
in equity, by the man whom he hath appointed:  giving faith to all, by
raising him up from the dead.
17:32. And when they had heard of the resurrection of the dead, some
indeed mocked.  But others said:  We will hear thee again concerning this
17:33. So Paul went out from among them.
17:34. But certain men, adhering to him, did believe:  among whom was
also Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris and others with
Acts Chapter 18
Paul founds the church of Corinth and preaches at Ephesus and in other
places.  Apollo goes to Corinth.
18:1. After these things, departing from Athens, he came to Corinth.
18:2. And finding a certain Jew, named Aquila, born in Pontus, lately
come from Italy, with Priscilla his wife (because that Claudius had
commanded all Jews to depart from Rome), he came to them.
18:3. And because he was of the same trade, he remained with them and
wrought.  (Now they were tentmakers by trade.)
18:4. And he reasoned in the synagogue every sabbath, bringing in the
name of the Lord Jesus.  And he persuaded the Jews and the Greeks.
18:5. And when Silas and Timothy were come from Macedonia, Paul was
earnest in preaching, testifying to the Jews that Jesus is the Christ.
18:6. But they gainsaying and blaspheming, he shook his garments and
said to them:  Your blood be upon your own heads:  I am clean.  From
henceforth I will go unto the Gentiles.
18:7. And departing thence, he entered into the house of a certain man,
named Titus Justus, one that worshipped God, whose house was adjoining
to the synagogue.
18:8. And Crispus, the ruler of the synagogue, believed in the Lord,
with all his house.  And many of the Corinthians hearing, believed and
were baptized.
18:9. And the Lord said to Paul in the night, by a vision:  Do not fear,
but speak.  And hold not thy peace,
18:10. Because I am with thee and no man shall set upon thee, to hurt
thee.  For I have much people in this city.
18:11. And he stayed there a year and six months, teaching among them
the word of God.
18:12. But when Gallio was proconsul of Achaia, the Jews with one
accord rose up against Paul and brought him to the judgment seat,
18:13. Saying:  This man persuadeth men to worship God contrary to the
18:14. And when Paul was beginning to open his mouth, Gallio said to
the Jews:  If it were some matter of injustice or an heinous deed, O
Jews, I should with reason bear with you.
18:15. But if they be questions of word and names and of your law, look
you to it.  I will not be judge of such things.
18:16. And he drove them from the judgment seat.
18:17. And all laying hold on Sosthenes, the ruler of the synagogue,
beat him before the judgment seat.  And Gallio cared for none of those
18:18. But Paul, when he had stayed yet many days, taking his leave of
the brethren, sailed thence into Syria (and with him Priscilla and
Aquila), having shorn his head in Cenchrae.  For he had a vow.
18:19. And he came to Ephesus and left them there.  But he himself,
entering into the synagogue, disputed with the Jews.
18:20. And when they desired him that he would tarry a longer time, he
consented not:
18:21. But taking his leave and saying:  I will return to you again, God
willing, he departed from Ephesus.
18:22. And going down to Caesarea, he went up to Jerusalem and saluted
the church:  and so came down to Antioch.
18:23. And after he had spent some time there, he departed and went
through the country of Galatia and Phrygia, in order, confirming all
the disciples.
18:24. Now a certain Jew, named Apollo, born at Alexandria, an eloquent
man, came to Ephesus, one mighty in the scriptures.
18:25. This man was instructed in the way of the Lord:  and being
fervent in spirit, spoke and taught diligently the things that are of
Jesus, knowing only the baptism of John.
18:26. This man therefore began to speak boldly in the synagogue.  Whom
when Priscilla and Aquila had heard, they took him to them and
expounded to him the way of the Lord more diligently.
18:27. And whereas he was desirous to go to Achaia, the brethren
exhorting wrote to the disciples to receive him.  Who, when he was come,
helped them much who had believed.
18:28. For with much vigour he convinced the Jews openly, shewing by
the scriptures that Jesus is the Christ.
Acts Chapter 19
Paul establishes the church at Ephesus.  The tumult of the silversmiths.
19:1. And it came to pass, while Apollo was at Corinth, that Paul,
having passed through the upper coasts, came to Ephesus and found
certain disciples.
19:2. And he said to them:  Have you received the Holy Ghost since ye
believed?  But they said to him:  We have not so much as heard whether
there be a Holy Ghost.
19:3. And he said:  In what then were you baptized?  Who said:  In John's
19:4. Then Paul said:  John baptized the people with the baptism of
penance saying:  That they should believe in him, who was to come after
him, that is to say, in Jesus.
19:5. Having heard these things, they were baptized in the name of the
19:6. And when Paul had imposed his hands on them, the Holy Ghost came
upon them:  and they spoke with tongues and prophesied.
19:7. And all the men were about twelve.
19:8. And entering into the synagogue, he spoke boldly for the space of
three months, disputing and exhorting concerning the kingdom of God.
19:9. But when some were hardened and believed not, speaking evil of
the way of the Lord before the multitude, departing from them, he
separated the disciples, disputing daily in the school of one Tyrannus.
19:10. And this continued for the space of two years, so that all who
dwelt in Asia heard the word of the Lord, both Jews and Gentiles.
19:11. And God wrought by the hand of Paul more than common miracles.
19:12. So that even there were brought from his body to the sick,
handkerchiefs and aprons:  and the diseases departed from them:  and the
wicked spirits went out of them.
19:13. Now some also of the Jewish exorcists, who went about, attempted
to invoke over them that had evil spirits the name of the Lord Jesus,
saying:  I conjure you by Jesus, whom Paul preacheth.
19:14. And there were certain men, seven sons of Sceva, a Jew, a chief
priest, that did this.
19:15. But the wicked spirit, answering, said to them:  Jesus I know:
and Paul I know.  But who are you?
19:16. And the man in whom the wicked spirit was, leaping upon them and
mastering them both, prevailed against them, so that they fled out of
that house naked and wounded.
19:17. And this became known to all the Jews and the Gentiles that
dwelt a Ephesus.  And fear fell on them all:  and the name of the Lord
Jesus was magnified.
19:18. And many of them that believed came, confessing and declaring
19:19. And many of them who had followed curious arts brought together
their books and burnt them before all.  And, counting the price of them,
they found the money to be fifty thousand pieces of silver.
19:20. So mightily grew the word of God and was confirmed.
19:21. And when these things were ended, Paul purposed in the spirit,
when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem,
saying:  After I have been there, I must see Rome also.
19:22. And sending into Macedonia two of them that ministered to him,
Timothy and Erastus, he himself remained for a time in Asia.
19:23. Now at that time there arose no small disturbance about the way
of the Lord.
19:24. For a certain man named Demetrius, a silversmith, who made
silver temples for Diana, brought no small gain to the craftsmen.
19:25. Whom he calling together with the workmen of like occupation,
said:  Sirs, you know that our gain is by this trade.
19:26. And you see and hear that this Paul, by persuasion hath drawn
away a great multitude, not only of Ephesus, but almost of all Asia,
saying:  they are not gods which are made by hands.
19:27. So that not only this our craft is in danger to be set at
nought, but also the temple of great Diana shall be reputed for
nothing!  Yea, and her majesty shall begin to be destroyed, whom all
Asia and the world worshippeth.
19:28. Having heard these things, they were full of anger and cried
out, saying:  Great is Diana of the Ephesians!
19:29. And the whole city was filled with confusion.  And having caught
Gaius and Aristarchus, men of Macedonia, Paul's companions, they rushed
with one accord into the theatre.
19:30. And when Paul would have entered in unto the people, the
disciples suffered him not.
19:31. And some also of the rulers of Asia, who were his friends, sent
unto him, desiring that he would not venture himself into the theatre.
19:32. Now some cried one thing, some another.  For the assembly was
confused:  and the greater part knew not for what cause they were come
19:33. And they drew forth Alexander out of the multitude, the Jews
thrusting him forward.  And Alexander, beckoning with his hand for
silence, would have given the people satisfaction,
19:34. But as soon as they perceived him to be a Jew, all with one
voice, for the space of about two, hours, cried out:  Great is Diana of
the Ephesians!
19:35. And when the town clerk had appeased the multitudes, he said:  Ye
men of Ephesus, what man is there that knoweth not that the city of the
Ephesians is a worshipper of the great Diana and of Jupiter's
19:36. For as much therefore as these things cannot be contradicted,
you ought to be quiet and to do nothing rashly.
19:37. For you have brought hither these men, who are neither guilty of
sacrilege nor of blasphemy against your goddess.
19:38. But if Demetrius and the craftsmen that are with him have a
matter against any man, the courts of justice are open:  and there are
proconsuls.  Let them accuse one another.
19:39. And if you inquire after any other matter, it may be decided in
a lawful assembly.
19:40. For we are even in danger to be called in question for this
day's uproar, there being no man guilty (of whom we may give account)
of this concourse.  And when he had said these things, he dismissed the
Acts Chapter 20
Paul passes through Macedonia and Greece.  He raises a dead man to life
at Troas.  His discourse to the clergy of Ephesus.
20:1. And after the tumult was ceased, Paul calling to him the
disciples and exhorting them, took his leave and set forward to go into
20:2. And when he had gone over those parts and had exhorted them with
many words, he came into Greece:
20:3. Where, when he had spent three months, the Jews laid wait for
him, as he was about to sail into Syria.  So he took a resolution to
return through Macedonia.
20:4. And there accompanied him Sopater, the son of Pyrrhus, of Berea:
and of the Thessalonians, Aristarchus and Secundus:  and Gaius of Derbe
and Timothy:  and of Asia, Tychicus and Trophimus.
20:5. These, going before, stayed for us at Troas.
20:6. But we sailed from Philippi after the days of the azymes and came
to them to Troas in five days, where we abode seven days.
20:7. And on the first day of the week, when we were assembled to break
bread, Paul discoursed with them, being to depart on the morrow.  And he
continued his speech until midnight.
And on the first day of the week. . .Here St. Chrysostom and many other
interpreters of the scripture explain, that the Christians even at this
time, must have changed the sabbath into the first day of the week,
(the Lord's day,) as all Christians now keep it.  This change was
undoubtedly made by the authority of the church; hence the exercise of
the power, which Christ had given to her:  for he is Lord of the
20:8. And there were a great number of lamps in the upper chamber where
we were assembled.
20:9. And a certain young man named Eutychus, sitting on the window,
being oppressed with a deep sleep (as Paul was long preaching), by
occasion of his sleep fell from the third loft down and was taken up
20:10. To whom, when Paul had gone down, he laid himself upon him and,
embracing him, said:  Be not troubled, for his soul is in him.
20:11. Then going up and breaking bread and tasting and having talked a
long time to them, until daylight, so he departed.
20:12. And they brought the youth alive and were not a little
20:13. But we going aboard the ship, sailed to Assos, being there to
take in Paul.  For so he had appointed, himself purposing to travel by
20:14. And when he had met with us at Assos, we took him in and came to
20:15. And sailing thence, the day following we came over against
Chios:  and the next day we arrived at Samos:  and the day following we
came to Miletus.
20:16. For Paul had determined to sail by Ephesus, lest he should be
stayed any time in Asia.  For he hasted.  if it were possible for him, to
keep the day of Pentecost at Jerusalem.
20:17. And sending from Miletus to Ephesus, he called the ancients of
20:18. And when they were come to him and were together, he said to
them:  You know from the first day that I came into Asia, in what manner
I have been with you, for all the time.
20:19. Serving the Lord with all humility and with tears and
temptations which befell me by the conspiracies of the Jews:
20:20. How I have kept back nothing that was profitable to you, but
have preached it to you, and taught you publicly, and from house to
20:21. Testifying both to Jews and Gentiles penance towards God and
faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.
20:22. And now, behold, being bound in the spirit, I go to Jerusalem:
not knowing the things which shall befall me there:
20:23. Save that the Holy Ghost in every city witnesseth to me, saying:
That bands and afflictions wait for me at Jerusalem.
20:24. But I fear none of these things, neither do I count my life more
precious than myself, so that I may consummate my course and the
ministry of the word which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify
the gospel of the grace of God.
20:25. And now behold, I know that all you, among whom I have gone
preaching the kingdom of God, shall see my face no more.
20:26. Wherefore I take you to witness this day that I am clear from
the blood of all men.
20:27. For I have not spread to declare unto you all, the counsel of
20:28. Take heed to yourselves and to the whole flock, wherein the Holy
Ghost hath placed you bishops, to rule the Church of God which he hath
purchased with his own blood.
20:29. I know that after my departure ravening wolves will enter in
among you, not sparing the flock.
20:30. And of your own selves shall arise men speaking perverse things,
to draw away disciples after them.
20:31. Therefore watch, keeping in memory that for three years I ceased
not with tears to admonish every one of you, night and day.
20:32. And now I commend you to God and to the word of his grace, who
is able to build up and to give an inheritance among all the
20:33. I have not coveted any man's silver, gold or apparel, as
20:34. You yourselves know.  For such things as were needful for me and
them that are with me, these hands have furnished.
20:35. I have shewed you all things, how that so labouring you ought to
support the weak and to remember the word of the Lord Jesus, how he
said:  It is a more blessed thing to give, rather than to receive.
20:36. And when he had said these things, kneeling down, he prayed with
20:37. And there was much weeping among them all.  And falling on the
neck of Paul, they kissed him,
20:38. Being grieved most of all for the word which he had said, that
they should see his face no more.  And they brought him on his way to
Acts Chapter 21
Paul goes up to Jerusalem.  He is apprehended by the Jews in the temple.
21:1. And when it came to pass that, being parted from them, we set
sail, we came with a straight course to Coos, and the day following to
Rhodes:  and from thence to Patara.
21:2. And when we had found a ship sailing over to Phenice, we went
aboard and set forth.
21:3. And when we had discovered Cyprus, leaving it on the left hand,
we sailed into Syria, and came to Tyre:  for there the ship was to
unlade her burden.
21:4. And finding disciples, we tarried there seven days:  who said to
Paul, through the Spirit, that he should not go up to Jerusalem.
21:5. And the days being expired, departing we went forward, they all
bringing us on our way, with their wives and children, till we were out
of the city.  And we kneeled down on the shore:  and we prayed.
21:6. And when we had bid one another farewell, we took ship.  And they
returned home.
21:7. But we, having finished the voyage by sea, from Tyre came down to
Ptolemais:  and saluting the brethren, we abode one day with them.
21:8. And the next day departing, we came to Caesarea.  And entering
into the house of Philip the evangelist, who was one of the seven, we
abode with him.
The evangelist. . .That is, the preacher of the gospel; the same that
before converted the Samaritans, and baptized the eunuch, chap. 8.,
being one of the first seven deacons.
21:9. And he had four daughters, virgins, who did prophesy.
21:10. And as we tarried there for some days, there came from Judea a
certain prophet, named Agabus.
21:11. Who, when he was come to us, took Paul's girdle:  and binding his
own feet and hands, he said:  Thus saith the Holy Ghost:  The man whose
girdle this is, the Jews shall bind in this manner in Jerusalem and
shall deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.
21:12. Which when we had heard, both we and they that were of that
place desired him that he would not go up to Jerusalem.
21:13. Then Paul answered and said:  What do you mean, weeping and
afflicting my heart?  For I am ready not only to be bound, but to die
also in Jerusalem, for the name of the Lord Jesus.
21:14. And when we could not persuade him, we ceased, saying:  The will
of the Lord be done.
21:15. And after those days, being prepared, we went up to Jerusalem.
21:16. And there went also with us some of the disciples from Caesarea,
bringing with them one Mnason a Cyprian, an old disciple, with whom we
should lodge.
21:17. And when we were come to Jerusalem, the brethren received us
21:18. And the day following, Paul went in with us unto James:  and all
the ancients were assembled.
21:19. Whom when he had saluted, he related particularly what things
God had wrought among the Gentiles by his ministry.
21:20. But they hearing it, glorified God and said to him:  Thou seest,
brother, how many thousands there are among the Jews that have
believed:  and they are all zealous for the law.
21:21. Now they have heard of thee that thou teachest those Jews, who
are among the Gentiles to depart from Moses:  saying that they ought not
to circumcise their children, nor walk according to the custom.
21:22. What is it therefore?  The multitude must needs come together:
for they will hear that thou art come.
21:23. Do therefore this that we say to thee.  We have four men, who
have a vow on them.
21:24. Take these and sanctify thyself with them:  and bestow on them,
that they may shave their heads.  And all will know that the things
which they have heard of these are false:  but that thou thyself also
walkest keeping the law.
Keeping the law. . .The law, though now no longer obligatory, was for a
time observed by the Christian Jews:  to bury, as it were, the synagogue
with honour.
21:25. But, as touching the Gentiles that believe, we have written,
decreeing that they should only refrain themselves from that which has
been offered to idols and from blood and from things strangled and from
fornication.
21:26. Then Paul took the men and, the next day being purified with
them, entered into the temple, giving notice of the accomplishment of
the days of purification, until an oblation should be offered for every
one of them.
21:27. But when the seven days were drawing to an end, those Jews that
were of Asia, when they saw him in the temple, stirred up all the
people and laid hands upon him, crying out:
21:28. Men of Israel, help:  This is the man that teacheth all men every
where against the people and the law and this place; and moreover hath
brought in Gentiles into the temple and hath violated this holy place.
21:29. (For they had seen Trophimus the Ephesian in the city with him.
whom they supposed that Paul had brought into the temple.)
21:30. And he whole city was in an uproar:  and the people ran together.
And taking Paul, they drew him out of the temple:  and immediately the
doors were shut.
21:31. And as they went about to kill him, it was told the tribune of
the band that all Jerusalem was in confusion.
21:32. Who, forthwith taking with him soldiers and centurions, ran down
to them.  And when they saw the tribune and the soldiers, they left off
beating Paul.
21:33. Then the tribune, coming near, took him and commanded him to be
bound with two chains:  and demanded who he was and what he had done.
21:34. And some cried one thing, some another, among the multitude.  And
when he could not know the certainty for the tumult, he commanded him
to be carried into the castle.
21:35. And when he was come to the stairs, it fell out that he was
carried by the soldiers, because of the violence of the people.
21:36. For the multitude of the people followed after, crying:  Away
21:37. And as Paul was about to be brought into the castle, he saith to
the tribune:  May I speak something to thee?  Who said:  Canst thou speak
21:38. Art not thou that Egyptian who before these days didst raise a
tumult and didst lead forth into the desert four thousand men that were
21:39. But Paul said to him:  I am a Jew of Tarsus in Cilicia, a citizen
of no mean city.  And I beseech thee, suffer me to speak to the people.
21:40. And when he had given him leave, Paul standing on the stairs,
beckoned with his hand to the people.  And a great silence being made,
he spoke unto them in the Hebrew tongue, saying:
Acts Chapter 22
Paul declares to the people the history of his conversion.  He escapes
scourging by claiming the privilege of a Roman citizen.
22:1. Men, brethren and fathers, hear ye the account which I now give
22:2. (And when they heard that he spoke to them in the Hebrew tongue,
they kept the more silence.)
22:3. And he saith:  I am a Jew, born at Tarsus in Cilicia, but brought
up in this city, at the feet of Gamaliel, taught according to the truth
of the law of the fathers, zealous for the law, as also all you are
22:4. Who persecuted this way unto death, binding and delivering into
prisons both men and women,
22:5. As the high priest doth bear me witness and all the ancients.
From whom also receiving letters to the brethren, I went to Damascus,
that I might bring them bound from thence to Jerusalem to be punished.
22:6. And it came to pass, as I was going and drawing nigh to Damascus,
at mid-day, that suddenly from heaven there shone round about me a
great light:
22:7. And falling on the ground, I heard a voice saying to me:  Saul,
Saul, why persecutest thou me?
22:8. And I answered:  Who art thou, Lord?  And he said to me:  I am
Jesus of Nazareth, whom thou persecutest.
22:9. And they that were with me saw indeed the light:  but they heard
not the voice of him that spoke with me.
Heard not the voice. . .That is, they distinguished not the words;
though they heard the voice.  Acts 9. 7.
22:10. And I said:  What shall I do, Lord?  And the Lord said to me:
Arise and go to Damascus; and there it shall be told thee of all things
that thou must do.
22:11. And whereas I did not see for the brightness of that light,
being led by the hand by my companions, I came to Damascus,
22:12. And one Ananias, a man according to the law, having testimony of
all the Jews who dwelt there,
22:13. Coming to me and standing by me, said to me:  Brother Saul, look
up.  And I, the same hour, looked upon him.
22:14. But he said:  The God of our fathers hath preordained thee that
thou shouldst know his will and see the Just One and shouldst hear the
voice from his mouth.
Just One. . .Our Saviour, who appeared to St. Paul, Acts 9. 17.
22:15. For thou shalt be his witness to all men of those things which
thou hast seen and heard.
22:16. And now why tarriest thou?  Rise up and be baptized and wash away
thy sins, invoking his name.
22:17. And it came to pass, when I was come again to Jerusalem and was
praying in the temple, that I was in a trance,
22:18. And saw him saying unto me:  Make haste and get thee quickly out
of Jerusalem:  because they will not receive thy testimony concerning
22:19. And I said:  Lord, they know that I cast into prison and beat in
every synagogue them that believed in thee.
22:20. And when the blood of Stephen thy witness was shed, I stood by
and consented:  and kept the garments of them that killed him.
22:21. And he said to me:  Go, for unto the Gentiles afar off will I
22:22. And they heard him until this word and then lifted up their
voice, saying:  Away with such an one from the earth.  For it is not fit
that he should live.
22:23. And as they cried out and threw off their garments and cast dust
into the air,
22:24. The tribune commanded him to be brought into the castle, and
that he should be scourged and tortured:  to know for what cause they
did so cry out against him.
22:25. And when they had bound him with thongs, Paul saith to the
centurion that stood by him:  Is it lawful for you to scourge a man that
is a Roman and uncondemned?
22:26. Which the centurion hearing, went to the tribune and told him,
saying:  What art thou about to do?  For this man is a Roman citizen.
22:27. And the tribune coming, said to him:  Tell me.  Art thou a Roman?
But he said:  Yea.
22:28. And the tribune answered:  I obtained the being free of this city
with a great sum.  And Paul said:  But I was born so.
22:29. Immediately therefore they departed from him that were about to
torture him.  The tribune also was afraid after he understood that he
was a Roman citizen and because he had bound him.
22:30. But on the next day, meaning to know more diligently for what
cause he was accused by the Jews, he loosed him and commanded the
priests to come together and all the council:  and, bringing forth Paul,
he set him before them.
Acts Chapter 23
Paul stands before the council.  The Jews conspire his death.  He is sent
away to Cesarea.
23:1. And Paul, looking upon the council, said:  Men, brethren, I have
conversed with all good conscience before God until this present day.
23:2. And the high priest, Ananias, commanded them that stood by him to
strike him on the mouth.
23:3. Then Paul said to him:  God shall strike thee, thou whited wall.
For, sittest thou to judge me according to the law and, contrary to the
law, commandest me to be struck?
23:4. And they that stood by said:  Dost thou revile the high priest of
23:5. And Paul said:  I knew not, brethren, that he is the high priest.
For it is written:  Thou shalt not speak evil of the prince of thy
23:6. And Paul, knowing that the one part were Sadducees and the other
Pharisees, cried out in the council:  Men, brethren, I am a Pharisee,
the son of Pharisees:  concerning the hope and resurrection of the dead
I am called in question.
23:7. And when he had so said, there arose a dissension between the
Pharisees and the Sadducees.  And the multitude was divided.
23:8. For the Sadducees say that there is no resurrection, neither
angel, nor spirit:  but the Pharisees confess both.
23:9. And there arose a great cry.  And some of the Pharisees rising up,
strove, saying:  We find no evil in this man.  What if a spirit hath
spoken to him, or an angel?
23:10. And when there arose a great dissension, the tribune, fearing
lest Paul should be pulled in pieces by them, commanded the soldiers to
go down and to take him by force from among them and to bring him into
23:11. And the night following, the Lord standing by him, said:  Be
constant:  for as thou hast testified of me in Jerusalem, so must thou
bear witness also at Rome.
23:12. And when day was come, some of the Jews gathered together and
bound themselves under a curse, saying that they would neither eat nor
drink till they killed Paul.
23:13. And they were more than forty men that had made this conspiracy.
23:14. Who came to the chief priests and the ancients and said:  We have
bound ourselves under a great curse that we will eat nothing till we
have slain Paul.
23:15. Now therefore do you with the council signify to the tribune,
that he bring him forth to you, as if you meant to know something more
certain touching him.  And we, before he come near, are ready to kill
23:16. Which when Paul's sister's son had heard, of their lying in
wait, he came and entered into the castle and told Paul.
23:17. And Paul, calling to him one of the centurions, said:  Bring this
young man to the tribune:  for he hath some thing to tell him.
23:18. And he, taking him, brought him to the tribune and said:  Paul,
the prisoner, desired me to bring this young man unto thee, who hath
some thing to say to thee.
23:19. And the tribune, taking him by the hand, went aside with him
privately and asked him:  What is it that thou hast to tell me?
23:20. And he said:  The Jews have agreed to desire thee that thou
wouldst bring forth Paul to-morrow into the council, as if they meant
to inquire some thing more certain touching him.
23:21. But do not thou give credit to them:  for there lie in wait for
him more than forty men of them, who have bound themselves by oath
neither to eat nor to drink, till they have killed him.  And they are
now ready, looking for a promise from thee.
23:22. The tribune therefore dismissed the young man, charging him that
he should tell no man that he had made known these things unto him.
23:23. Then having called two centurions, he said to them:  Make ready
two hundred soldiers to go as far as Caesarea:  and seventy horsemen and
two hundred spearmen, for the third hour of the night.
23:24. And provide beasts, that they may set Paul on and bring him safe
to Felix the governor.
23:25. (For he feared lest perhaps the Jews might take him away by
force and kill him:  and he should afterwards be slandered, as if he was
to take money.)  And he wrote a letter after this manner:
23:26. Claudius Lysias to the most excellent governor, Felix, greeting:
23:27. This man, being taken by the Jews and ready to be killed by
them, I rescued, coming in with an army, understanding that he is a
23:28. And meaning to know the cause which they objected unto him, I
brought him forth into their council.
23:29. Whom I found to be accused concerning questions of their law;
but having nothing laid to his charge worthy of death or of bands.
23:30. And when I was told of ambushes that they had prepared for him,
I sent him to thee, signifying also to his accusers to plead before
thee.  Farewell.
23:31. Then the soldiers, according as it was commanded them, taking
Paul, brought him by night to Antipatris.
23:32. And the next day, leaving the horsemen to go with him, they
returned to the castle.
23:33. Who, when they were come to Caesarea and had delivered the
letter to the governor, did also present Paul before him.
23:34. And when he had read it and had asked of what province he was
and understood that he was of Cilicia:
23:35. I will hear thee, said he, when thy accusers come.  And he
commanded him to be kept in Herod's judgment hall.
Acts Chapter 24
Paul defends his innocence before Felix the governor.  He preaches the
faith to him.
24:1. And after five days, the high priest, Ananias, came down with
some ancients and one Tertullus, an orator, who went to the governor
against Paul.
24:2. And Paul being called for, Tertullus began to accuse him, saying:
Whereas, through thee we live in much peace and many things are
rectified by thy providence,
24:3. We accept it always and in all places, most excellent Felix, with
all thanksgiving.
24:4. But that I be no further tedious to thee, I desire thee of thy
clemency to hear us in a few words.
24:5. We have found this to be a pestilent man and raising seditions
among all the Jews throughout the world:  and author of the sedition of
the sect of the Nazarenes.
24:6. Who also hath gone about to profane the temple:  whom, we having
apprehended, would also have judged according to our law.
24:7. But Lysias the tribune, coming upon us with great violence, took
him away out of our hands;
24:8. Commanding his accusers to come to thee.  Of whom thou mayest
thyself, by examination, have knowledge of all these things whereof we
24:9. And the Jews also added and said that these things were so.
24:10. Then Paul answered (the governor making a sign to him to speak):
Knowing that for many years thou hast been judge over this nation, I
will with good courage answer for myself.
24:11. For thou mayest understand that there are yet but twelve days
since I went up to adore in Jerusalem:
24:12. And neither in the temple did they find me disputing with any
man or causing any concourse of the people:  neither in the synagogues,
nor in the city.
24:13. Neither can they prove unto thee the things whereof they now
24:14. But this I confess to thee that according to the way which they
call a heresy, so do I serve the Father and my God, believing all
things which are written in the law and the prophets:
24:15. Having hope in God, which these also themselves look for, that
there shall be a resurrection of the just and unjust.
24:16. And herein do I endeavour to have always a conscience without
offence, towards God and towards men.
24:17. Now after many years, I came to bring alms to my nation and
offerings and vows.
24:18. In which I was found purified in the temple:  neither with
multitude nor with tumult.
24:19. But certain Jews of Asia, who ought to be present before thee
and to accuse, if they had anything against me:
24:20. Or let these men themselves say if they found in me any
iniquity, when standing before the council,
24:21. Except it be for this one voice only that I cried, standing
among them:  Concerning the resurrection of the dead am I judged this
24:22. And Felix put them off, having most certain knowledge of this
way, saying:  When Lysias the tribune shall come down, I will hear you.
24:23. And he commanded a centurion to keep him:  and that he should be
easy and that he should not prohibit any of his friends to minister
24:24. And after some days, Felix, coming with Drusilla his wife, who
was a Jew, sent for Paul and heard of him the faith that is in Christ
24:25. And as he treated of justice and chastity and of the judgment to
come, Felix, being terrified, answered:  For this time, go thy way:  but
when I have a convenient time, I will send for thee.
24:26. Hoping also withal that money should be given him by Paul:  for
which cause also oftentimes sending for him, he spoke with him.
24:27. But when two years were ended, Felix had for successor Portius
Festus.  And Felix being willing to shew the Jews a pleasure, left Paul
Acts Chapter 25
Paul appeals to Caesar.  King Agrippa desires to hear him.
25:1. Now when Festus was come into the province, after three days, he
went up to Jerusalem from Cesarea.
25:2. And the chief priests and principal men of the Jews went unto him
against Paul:  and they besought him,
25:3. Requesting favour against him, that he would command him to be
brought to Jerusalem, laying wait to kill him in the way.
25:4. But Festus answered:  That Paul was kept in Caesarea:  and that he
himself would very shortly depart thither.
25:5. Let them, therefore, saith he, among you that are able, go down
with me and accuse him, if there be any crime in the man.
25:6. And having tarried among them no more than eight or ten days, he
went down to Caesarea.  And the next day, he sat in the judgment seat
and commanded Paul to be brought.
25:7. Who being brought, the Jews stood about him, who were come down
from Jerusalem, objecting many and grievious causes, which they could
25:8. Paul making answer for himself:  Neither against the law of the
Jews, nor against the temple, nor against Caesar, have I offended in
25:9. But Festus, willing to shew the Jews a pleasure, answering Paul,
said:  Wilt thou go up to Jerusalem and there be judged of these things
25:10. Then Paul said:  I stand at Caesar's judgment seat, where I ought
to be judged.  To the Jews I have done no injury, as thou very well
25:11. For if I have injured them or have committed any thing worthy of
death, I refuse not to die.  But if there be none of these things
whereof they accuse me, no man may deliver me to them.  I appeal to
25:12. Then Festus, having conferred with the council, answered:  Hast
thou appealed to Caesar?  To Caesar shalt thou go.
25:13. And after some days, king Agrippa and Bernice came down to
Caesarea, to salute Festus.
25:14. And as they tarried there many days, Festus told the king of
Paul, saying:  A certain man was left prisoner by Felix.
25:15. About whom, when I was at Jerusalem, the chief priests and the
ancients of the Jews came unto me, desiring condemnation against him.
25:16. To whom I answered:  it is not the custom of the Romans to
condemn any man, before that he who is accused have his accusers
present and have liberty to make his answer, to clear himself of the
things laid to his charge.
25:17. When therefore they were come hither, without any delay, on the
day following, sitting in the judgment seat, I commanded the man to be
25:18. Against whom, when the accusers stood up, they brought no
accusation of this which I thought ill of:
25:19. But had certain questions of their own superstition against him,
and of one Jesus deceased, whom Paul affirmed to be alive.
25:20. I therefore being in a doubt of this manner of question, asked
him whether he would go to Jerusalem and there be judged of these
25:21. But Paul, appealing to be reserved unto the hearing of Augustus,
I commanded him to be kept, till I might send him to Caesar.
25:22. And Agrippa said to Festus:  I would also hear the man, myself.
To-morrow, said he, thou shalt hear him.
25:23. And on the next day, when Agrippa and Bernice were come with
great pomp and had entered into the hall of audience with the tribunes
and principal men of the city, at Festus' commandment, Paul was brought
25:24. And Festus saith:  King Agrippa and all ye men who are here
present with us, you see this man, about whom all the multitude of the
Jews dealt with me at Jerusalem, requesting and crying out that he
ought not to live any longer.
25:25. Yet have I found nothing that he hath committed worthy of death.
But forasmuch as he himself hath appealed to Augustus, I have
determined to send him.
25:26. Of whom I have nothing certain to write to my lord.  For which
cause, I have brought him forth before you, and especially before thee,
O king Agrippa, that, examination being made, I may have what to write.
25:27. For it seemeth to me unreasonable to send a prisoner and not to
signify the things laid to his charge.
Acts Chapter 26
Paul gives an account to Agrippa of his life, conversion and calling.
26:1. Then Agrippa said to Paul:  Thou art permitted to speak for
thyself.  Then Paul, stretching forth his hand, began to make his
26:2. I think myself happy, O king Agrippa, that I am to answer for
myself this day before thee, touching all the things whereof I am
accused by the Jews.
26:3. Especially as thou knowest all, both customs and questions, that
are among the Jews.  Wherefore I beseech thee to hear me patiently.
26:4. And my life indeed from my youth, which was from the beginning
among my own nation in Jerusalem, all the Jews do know:
26:5. Having known me from the beginning (if they will give testimony)
that according to the most sure sect of our religion I lived, a
26:6. And now for the hope of the promise that was made by God to the
fathers, do I stand subject to judgment:
26:7. Unto which, our twelve tribes, serving night and day, hope to
come.  For which hope, O king, I am accused by the Jews.
26:8. Why should it be thought a thing incredible that God should raise
26:9. And I indeed did formerly think that I ought to do many things
contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth.
26:10. Which also I did at Jerusalem:  and many of the saints did I shut
up in prison, having received authority of the chief priests.  And when
they were put to death, I brought the sentence.
26:11. And oftentimes punishing them, in every synagogue, I compelled
them to blaspheme:  and being yet more mad against them, I persecuted
them even unto foreign cities.
26:12. Whereupon, when I was going to Damascus with authority and
permission of the chief priest,
26:13. At midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above
the brightness of the sun, shining round about me and them that were in
company with me.
26:14. And when we were all fallen down on the ground, I heard a voice
speaking to me in the Hebrew tongue:  Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou
me?  It is hard for thee to kick against the good.
26:15. And I said:  Who art thou, Lord?  And the Lord answered:  I am
Jesus whom thou persecutest.
26:16. But rise up and stand upon thy feet:  for to this end have I
appeared to thee, that I may make thee a minister and a witness of
those things which thou hast seen and of those things wherein I will
appear to thee,
26:17. Delivering thee from the people and from the nations unto which
now I send thee:
26:18. To open their eyes, that they may be converted from darkness to
light and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive
forgiveness of sins and a lot among the saints, by the faith that is in
26:19. Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not incredulous to the heavenly
26:20. But to them first that are at Damascus and at Jerusalem, and
unto all the country of Judea, and to the Gentiles did I preach, that
they should do penance and turn to God, doing works worthy of penance.
26:21. For this cause, the Jews, when I was in the temple, having
apprehended me, went about to kill me.
26:22. But being aided by the help of God, I stand unto this day,
witnessing both to small and great, saying no other thing than those
which the prophets and Moses did say should come to pass:
26:23. That Christ should suffer and that he should be the first that
should rise from the dead and should shew light to the people and to
the Gentiles.
26:24. As he spoke these things and made his answer, Festus said with a
loud voice:  Paul, thou art beside thyself:  much learning doth make thee
26:25. And Paul said:  I am not mad, most excellent Festus, but I speak
words of truth and soberness.
26:26. For the king knoweth of these things, to whom also I speak with
confidence.  For I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden
from him.  For neither was any of these things done in a corner.
26:27. Believest thou the prophets, O king Agrippa?  I know that thou
26:28. And Agrippa said to Paul:  In a little thou persuadest me to
become a Christian.
26:29. And Paul said:  I would to God that both in a little and in much,
not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, should become such
as I also am, except these bands.
26:30. And the king rose up, and the governor and Bernice and they that
sat with them.
26:31. And when they were gone aside, they spoke among themselves,
saying:  This man hath done nothing worthy of death or of bands.
26:32. And Agrippa said to Festus:  This man might have been set at
liberty, if he had not appealed to Caesar.
Acts Chapter 27
Paul is shipped for Rome.  His voyage and shipwreck.
27:1. And when it was determined that he should sail into Italy and
that Paul, with the other prisoners, should be delivered to a
centurion, named Julius, of the band Augusta,
27:2. Going on board a ship of Adrumetum, we launched, meaning to sail
by the coasts of Asia, Aristarchus, the Macedonian of Thessalonica,
continuing with us.
27:3. And the day following, we came to Sidon.  And Julius, treating
Paul courteously, permitted him to go to his friends and to take care
27:4. And when we had launched from thence, we sailed under Cyprus,
because the winds were contrary.
27:5. And sailing over the sea of Cilicia and Pamphylia, we came to
Lystra, which is in Lycia.
27:6. And there, the centurion, finding a ship of Alexandria sailing
into Italy, removed us into it.
27:7. And when for many days we had sailed slowly and were scarce come
over against Gnidus, the wind not suffering us, we sailed near Crete by
27:8. And with much ado sailing by it, we came into a certain place,
which is called Good-havens, nigh to which was the city of Thalassa.
27:9. And when much time was spent and when sailing now was dangerous,
because the fast was now past, Paul comforted them,
27:10. Saying to them:  Ye men, I see that the voyage beginneth to be
with injury and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, but also
of our lives.
27:11. But the centurion believed the pilot and the master of the ship,
more than those things which were said by Paul.
27:12. And whereas it was not a commodious haven to winter in, the
greatest part gave counsel to sail thence, if by any means they might
reach Phenice, to winter there, which is a haven of Crete, looking
towards the southwest and northwest.
27:13. And the south wind gently blowing, thinking that they had
obtained their purpose, when they had loosed from Asson, they sailed
close by Crete.
27:14. But not long after, there arose against it a tempestuous wind,
called Euroaquilo.
27:15. And when the ship was caught and could not bear up against the
wind, giving up the ship to the winds, we were driven.
27:16. And running under a certain island that is called Cauda, we had
much work to come by the boat.
27:17. Which being taken up, they used helps, undergirding the ship:
and fearing lest they should fall into the quicksands, they let down
the sail yard and so were driven.
27:18. And we, being mightily tossed with the tempest, the next day
they lightened the ship.
27:19. And the third day they cast out with their own hands the tacking
of the ship.
27:20. And when neither sun nor stars appeared for many days and no
small storms lay on us, all hope of our being saved was now taken away.
27:21. And after they had fasted a long time, Paul standing forth in
the midst of them, said:  You should indeed, O ye men, have hearkened
unto me and not have loosed from Crete and have gained this harm and
27:22. And now I exhort you to be of good cheer.  For there shall be no
loss of any man's life among you, but only of the ship.
27:23. For an angel of God, whose I am and whom I serve, stood by me
27:24. Saying:  Fear not, Paul, thou must be brought before Caesar; and
behold, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee.
27:25. Wherefore, sirs, be of good cheer:  for I believe God, that it
shall so be, as it hath been told me.
27:26. And we must come unto a certain island.
27:27. But after the fourteenth night was come, as we were sailing in
Adria, about midnight, the shipmen deemed that they discovered some
27:28. Who also sounding, found twenty fathoms:  and going on a little
further, they found fifteen fathoms.
27:29. Then fearing lest we should fall upon rough places, they cast
four anchors out of the stern:  and wished for the day.
27:30. But as the shipmen sought to fly out of the ship, having let
down the boat into the sea, under colour, as though they would have
cast anchors out of the forepart of the ship,
27:31. Paul said to the centurion and to the soldiers:  Except these
stay in the ship, you cannot be saved.
27:32. Then the soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat and let her fall
27:33. And when it began to be light, Paul besought them all to take
meat, saying:  This day is the fourteenth day that you have waited and
continued fasting, taking nothing.
27:34. Wherefore, I pray you to take some meat for your health's sake:
for there shall not an hair of the head of any of you perish.
27:35. And when he had said these things, taking bread, he gave thanks
to God in the sight of them all.  And when he had broken it, he began to
27:36. Then were they all of better cheer:  and they also took some
27:37. And we were in all in the ship two hundred threescore and
sixteen souls.
27:38. And when they had eaten enough, they lightened the ship, casting
the wheat into the sea.
27:39. And when it was day, they knew not the land.  But they discovered
a certain creek that had a shore, into which they minded, if they
could, to thrust in the ship.
27:40. And when they had taken up the anchors, they committed
themselves to the sea, loosing withal the rudder bands.  And hoisting up
the mainsail to the wind, they made towards shore.
27:41. And when we were fallen into a place where two seas met, they
run the ship aground.  And the forepart indeed, sticking fast, remained
unmoveable:  but the hinder part was broken with the violence of the
27:42. And the soldiers' counsel was that they should kill the
prisoners, lest any of them, swimming out should escape.
27:43. But the centurion, willing to save Paul, forbade it to be done.
And he commanded that they who could swim should cast themselves first
into the sea and save themselves and get to land.
27:44. And the rest, some they carried on boards and some on those
things that belonged to the ship.  And so it came to pass that every
soul got safe to land.
Acts Chapter 28
Paul, after three months' stay in Melita, continues his voyage and
arrives at Rome.  His conference there with the Jews.
28:1. And when we had escaped, then we knew that the island was called
Melita.  But the barbarians shewed us no small courtesy.
28:2. For kindling a fire, they refreshed us all, because of the
present rain and of the cold.
28:3. And when Paul had gathered together a bundle of sticks and had
laid them on the fire, a viper, coming out of the heat, fastened on his
28:4. And when the barbarians saw the beast hanging on his hand, they
said one to another:  Undoubtedly this man is a murderer, who, though he
hath escaped the sea, yet vengeance doth not suffer him to live.
28:5. And he indeed, shaking off the beast into the fire, suffered no
28:6. But they supposed that he would begin to swell up and that he
would suddenly fall down and die.  But expecting long and seeing that
there came no harm to him, changing their minds, they said that he was
28:7. Now in these places were possessions of the chief man of the
island, named Publius:  who, receiving us for three days, entertained us
courteously.
28:8. And it happened that the father of Publius lay sick of a fever
and of a bloody flux.  To whom Paul entered in.  And when he had prayed
and laid his hands on him, he healed him.
28:9. Which being done, all that had diseases in the island came and
were healed.
28:10. Who also honoured us with many honours:  and when we were to set
sail, they laded us with such things as were necessary.
28:11. And after three months, we sailed in a ship of Alexandria, that
had wintered in the island, whose sign was the Castors.
28:12. And when we were come to Syracusa, we tarried there three days.
28:13. From thence, compassing by the shore, we came to Rhegium:  and
after one day, the south wind blowing, we came the second day to
28:14. Where, finding brethren, we were desired to tarry with them
seven days.  And so we went to Rome.
28:15. And from thence, when the brethren had heard of us, they came to
meet us as far as Appii Forum and the Three Taverns.  Whom when Paul
saw, he gave thanks to God and took courage.
28:16. And when we were come to Rome, Paul was suffered to dwell by
himself, with a soldier that kept him.
28:17. And after the third day, he called together the chief of the
Jews.  And when they were assembled, he said to them:  Men, brethren, I,
having done nothing against the people or the custom of our fathers,
was delivered prisoner from Jerusalem into the hands of the Romans.
28:18. Who, when they had examined me, would have released me, for that
there was no cause of death in me.
28:19. But the Jews contradicting it, I was constrained to appeal unto
Caesar:  not that I had anything to accuse my nation of.
28:20. For this cause therefore I desired to see you and to speak to
you.  Because that for the hope of Israel, I am bound with this chain.
28:21. But they said to him:  We neither received letters concerning
thee from Judea:  neither did any of the brethren that came hither
relate or speak any evil of thee.
28:22. But we desire to hear of thee what thou thinkest:  for as
concerning this sect, we know that it is every where contradicted.
28:23. And when they had appointed him a day, there came very many to
him unto his lodgings.  To whom he expounded, testifying the kingdom of
God and persuading them concerning Jesus, out of the law of Moses and
the prophets, from morning until evening.
28:24. And some believed the things that were said:  but some believed
28:25. And when they agreed not among themselves, they departed, Paul
speaking this one word:  Well did the Holy Ghost speak to our fathers by
Isaias the prophet,
28:26. Saying:  Go to this people and say to them:  With the ear you
shall hear and shall not understand:  and seeing you shall see and shall
not perceive.
28:27. For the heart of this people is grown gross, and with their ears
have they heard heavily and their eyes they have shut, lest perhaps
they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears and understand
with their heart and should be converted:  and I should heal them.
28:28. Be it known therefore to you that this salvation of God is sent
to the Gentiles:  and they will hear it.
28:29. And when he had said these things, the Jews went out from him,
having much reasoning among themselves.
28:30. And he remained two whole years in his own hired lodging:  and he
received all that came in to him,
28:31. Preaching the kingdom of God and teaching the things which
concern the Lord Jesus Christ, with all confidence, without
prohibition.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL THE APOSTLE TO THE ROMANS
St. Paul wrote this epistle at Corinth, when he was preparing to go to
Jerusalem with the charitable contributions collected in Achaia and
Macedonia for the relief of the Christians in Judea; which was about
twenty-four years after Our Lord's Ascension.  It was written in Greek;
but at the same time translated into Latin, for the benefit of those
who did not understand that language.  And though it is not the first of
his Epistles in the order of time, yet it is first placed on account of
sublimity of the matter contained in it, of the preeminence of the
place to which it was sent, and in veneration of the Church.
Romans Chapter 1
He commends the faith of the Romans, whom he longs to see.  The
philosophy of the heathens, being void of faith and humility, betrayed
them into shameful sins.
1:1. Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle,
separated unto the gospel of God.
1:2. Which he had promised before, by his prophets, in the holy
1:3. Concerning his Son, who was made to him of the seed of David,
according to the flesh,
1:4. Who was predestinated the Son of God in power, according to the
spirit of sanctification, by the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ
from the dead:
Predestinated, etc. . .Christ as man, was predestinated to be the Son of
God:  and declared to be so (as the apostle here signifies) first, by
power, that is, by his working stupendous miracles; secondly, by the
spirit of sanctification, that is, by his infinite sanctity; thirdly,
by his ressurection, or raising himself from the dead.
1:5. By whom we have received grace and apostleship for obedience to
the faith, in all nations, for his name:
1:6. Among whom are you also the called of Jesus Christ:
1:7. To all that are at Rome, the beloved of God, called to be saints.
Grace to you and peace, from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus
1:8. First, I give thanks to my God, through Jesus Christ, for you all:
because your faith is spoken of in the whole world.
1:9. For God is my witness, whom I serve in my spirit in the gospel of
his Son, that without ceasing I make a commemoration of you:
1:10. Always in my prayers making request, if by any means now at
length I may have a prosperous journey, by the will of God, to come
1:11. For I long to see you that I may impart unto you some spiritual
grace, to strengthen you:
1:12. That is to say, that I may be comforted together in you by that
which is common to us both, your faith and mine.
1:13. And I would not have you ignorant, brethren, that I have often
purposed to come unto you (and have been hindered hitherto) that I
might have some fruit among you also, even as among other Gentiles.
1:14. To the Greeks and to the barbarians, to the wise and to the
unwise, I am a debtor.
1:15. So (as much as is in me) I am ready to preach the gospel to you
also that are at Rome.
1:16. For I am not ashamed of the gospel.  For it is the power of God
unto salvation to every one that believeth:  to the Jew first and to the
1:17. For the justice of God is revealed therein, from faith unto
faith, as it is written:  The just man liveth by faith.
1:18. For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all
ungodliness and injustice of those men that detain the truth of God in
1:19. Because that which is known of God is manifest in them.  For God
hath manifested it unto them.
1:20. For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world
are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.  His
eternal power also and divinity:  so that they are inexcusable.
1:21. Because that, when they knew God, they have not glorified him as
God or given thanks:  but became vain in their thoughts.  And their
foolish heart was darkened.
1:22. For, professing themselves to be wise, they became fools.
1:23. And they changed the glory of the incorruptible God into the
likeness of the image of a corruptible man and of birds, and of
fourfooted beasts and of creeping things.
1:24. Wherefore, God gave them up to the desires of their heart, unto
uncleanness:  to dishonour their own bodies among themselves.
1:25. Who changed the truth of God into a lie and worshipped and served
the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed for ever.  Amen.
1:26. For this cause, God delivered them up to shameful affections.  For
their women have changed the natural use into that use which is against
God delivered them up. . .Not by being author of their sins, but by
withdrawing his grace, and so permitting them, in punishment of their
pride, to fall into those shameful sins.
1:27. And, in like manner, the men also, leaving the natural use of the
women, have burned in their lusts, one towards another:  men with men,
working that which is filthy and receiving in themselves the recompense
which was due to their error.
1:28. And as they liked not to have God in their knowledge, God
delivered them up to a reprobate sense, to do those things which are
not convenient.
1:29. Being filled with all iniquity, malice, fornication, avarice,
wickedness:  full of envy, murder, contention, deceit, malignity:
1:30. Detractors, hateful to God, contumelious, proud, haughty,
inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents,
1:31. Foolish, dissolute:  without affection, without fidelity, without
1:32. Who, having known the justice of God, did not understand that
they who do such things, are worthy of death:  and not only they that do
them, but they also that consent to them that do them.
Romans Chapter 2
The Jews are censured, who make their boast of the law and keep it not.
He declares who are the true Jews.
2:1. Wherefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that
judgest.  For wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself.  For
thou dost the same things which thou judgest.
2:2. For we know that the judgment of God is, according to truth,
against them that do such things.
2:3. And thinkest thou this, O man, that judgest them who do such
things and dost the same, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God?
2:4. Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness and patience and
longsuffering?  Knowest thou not that the benignity of God leadeth thee
2:5. But according to thy hardness and impenitent heart, thou
treasurest up to thyself wrath, against the day of wrath and revelation
of the just judgment of God:
2:6. Who will render to every man according to his works.
2:7. To them indeed who, according to patience in good work, seek glory
and honour and incorruption, eternal life:
2:8. But to them that are contentious and who obey not the truth but
give credit to iniquity, wrath and indignation.
2:9. Tribulation and anguish upon every soul of man that worketh evil:
of the Jew first, and also of the Greek.
2:10. But glory and honour and peace to every one that worketh good:  to
the Jew first, and also to the Greek.
2:11. For there is no respect of persons with God.
2:12. For whosoever have sinned without the law shall perish without
the law:  and whosoever have sinned in the law shall be judged by the
2:13. For not the hearers of the law are just before God:  but the doers
of the law shall be justified.
2:14. For when the Gentiles, who have not the law, do by nature those
things that are of the law; these, having not the law, are a law to
2:15. Who shew the work of the law written in their hearts, their
conscience bearing witness to them:  and their thoughts between
themselves accusing or also defending one another,
2:16. In the day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus
Christ, according to my gospel.
2:17. But if thou art called a Jew and restest in the law and makest
thy boast of God,
2:18. And knowest his will and approvest the more profitable things,
being instructed by the law:
2:19. Art confident that thou thyself art a guide of the blind, a light
of them that are in darkness,
2:20. An instructor of the foolish, a teacher of infants, having the
form of knowledge and of truth in the law.
2:21. Thou therefore, that teachest another, teachest not thyself:
thou, that preachest that men should not steal, stealest.
2:22. Thou, that sayest men should not commit adultery, committest
adultery:  thou, that abhorrest idols, committest sacrilege:
2:23. Thou, that makest thy boast of the law, by transgression of the
law dishonourest God.
2:24. (For the name of God through you is blasphemed among the
Gentiles, as it is written.)
2:25. Circumcision profiteth indeed, if thou keep the law:  but if thou
be a transgressor of the law, thy circumcision is made uncircumcision.
2:26. If then, the uncircumcised keep the justices of the law, shall
not this uncircumcision be counted for circumcision?
2:27. And shall not that which by nature is uncircumcision, if it
fulfil the law, judge thee, who by the letter and circumcision art a
transgressor of the law?
2:28. For it is not he is a Jew, who is so outwardly:  nor is that
circumcision which is outwardly in the flesh.
2:29. But he is a Jew that is one inwardly and the circumcision is that
of the heart, in the spirit not in the letter:  whose praise is not of
men, but of God.
Romans Chapter 3
The advantages of the Jews.  All men are sinners and none can be
justified by the works of the law, but only by the grace of Christ.
3:1. What advantage then hath the Jew:  or what is the profit of
circumcision?
3:2. Much every way.  First indeed, because the words of God were
committed to them.
3:3. For what if some of them have not believed?  Shall their unbelief
make the faith of God without effect?  God forbid!
3:4. But God is true and every man a liar, as it is written:  That thou
mayest be justified in thy words and mayest overcome when thou art
God only is essentially true.  All men in their own capacity are liable
to lies and errors:  nevertheless God, who is the truth, will make good
his promise of keeping his church in all truth.  See St. John 16.13.
3:5. But if our injustice commend the justice of God, what shall we
say?  Is God unjust, who executeth wrath?
3:6. (I speak according to man.)  God forbid!  Otherwise how shall God
judge this world?
3:7. For if the truth of God hath more abounded through my lie, unto
his glory, why am I also yet judged as a sinner?
3:8. And not rather (as we are slandered and as some affirm that we
say) let us do evil that there may come good?  Whose damnation is just.
3:9. What then?  Do we excel them?  No, not so.  For we have charged both
Jews and Greeks, that they are all under sin.
3:10. As it is written:  There is not any man just.
There is not any man just, viz. . .by virtue either of the law of
nature, or of the law of Moses; but only by faith and grace.
3:11. There is none that understandeth:  there is none that seeketh
3:12. All have turned out of the way:  they are become unprofitable
together:  there is none that doth good, there is not so much as one.
3:13. Their throat is an open sepulchre:  with their tongues they have
dealt deceitfully.  The venom of asps is under their lips.
3:14. Whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness:
3:15. Their feet swift to shed blood:
3:16. Destruction and misery in their ways:
3:17. And the way of peace they have not known.
3:18. There is no fear of God before their eyes.
3:19. Now we know that what things soever the law speaketh, it speaketh
to them that are in the law:  that every mouth may be stopped and all
the world may be made subject to God.
3:20. Because by the works of the law no flesh shall be justified
before him.  For by the law is the knowledge of sin.
3:21. But now, without the law, the justice of God is made manifest,
being witnessed by the law and the prophets.
3:22. Even the justice of God, by faith of Jesus Christ, unto all, and
upon all them that believe in him:  for there is no distinction.
3:23. For all have sinned and do need the glory of God.
3:24. Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that
is in Christ Jesus,
3:25. Whom God hath proposed to be a propitiation, through faith in his
blood, to the shewing of his justice, for the remission of former sins,
3:26. Through the forbearance of God, for the shewing of his justice in
this time:  that he himself may be just and the justifier of him who is
of the faith of Jesus Christ
3:27. Where is then thy boasting?  It is excluded.  By what law?  Of
works?  No, but by the law of faith.
3:28. For we account a man to be justified by faith, without the works
By faith, etc. . .The faith, to which the apostle here attributes man's
justification, is not a presumptuous assurance of our being justified;
but a firm and lively belief of all that God has revealed or promised.
Heb. 11.  A faith working through charity in Jesus Christ.  Gal. 5.6. In
short, a faith which takes in hope, love, repentance, and the use of
the sacraments.  And the works which he here excludes, are only the
works of the law:  that is, such as are done by the law of nature, or
that of Moses, antecedent to the faith of Christ:  but by no means, such
as follow faith, and proceed from it.
3:29. Is he the God of the Jews only?  Is he not also of the Gentiles?
yes, of the Gentiles also.
3:30. For it is one God that justifieth circumcision by faith and
uncircumcision through faith.
3:31. Do we then, destroy the law through faith?  God forbid!  But we
establish the law.
Romans Chapter 4
Abraham was not justified by works done, as of himself, but by grace
and by faith.  And that before he was circumcised.  Gentiles, by faith,
are his children.
4:1. What shall we say then that Abraham hath found, who is our father
according to the flesh?
4:2. For if Abraham were justified by works, he hath whereof to glory,
but not before God.
By works. . .Done by his own strength, without the grace of God, and
faith in him.  Not before God. . .Whatever glory or applause such works
might procure from men, they would be of no value in the sight of God.
4:3. For what saith the scripture?  Abraham believed God:  and it was
reputed to him unto justice.
Reputed, etc. . .By God, who reputeth nothing otherwise than it is.
However, we may gather from this word, that when we are justified, our
justification proceedeth from God's free grace and bounty; and not from
any efficacy which any act of ours could have of its own nature,
abstracting from God's grace.
4:4. Now to him that worketh, the reward is not reckoned according to
grace but according to debt.
To him that worketh. . .Vis., as of his own fund, or by his own
strength.  Such a man, says the apostle, challenges his reward as a debt
due to his own performances; whereas he who worketh not, that is, who
presumeth not upon any works done by his own strength, but seeketh
justice through faith and grace, is freely justified by God's grace.
4:5. But to him that worketh not, yet believeth in him that justifieth
the ungodly, his faith is reputed to justice, according to the purpose
of the grace of God.
4:6. As David also termeth the blessedness of a man to whom God
reputeth justice without works:
4:7. Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven:  and whose sins are
Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are
covered. . .That is, blessed are those who, by doing penance, have
obtained pardon and remission of their sins, and also are covered; that
is, newly clothed with the habit of grace, and vested with the stole of
4:8. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord hath not imputed sin.
Blessed is the man to whom the Lord hath not imputed sin. . .That is,
blessed is the man who hath retained his baptismal innocence, that no
grievous sin can be imputed to him.  And, likewise, blessed is the man,
who after fall into sin, hath done penance and leads a virtuous life,
by frequenting the sacraments necessary for obtaining the grace to
prevent a relapse, that sin is no more imputed to him.
4:9. This blessedness then, doth it remain in the circumcision only or
in the uncircumcision also?  For we say that unto Abraham faith was
reputed to justice.
In the circumcision, etc. . .That is, is it only for the Jews that are
circumcised?  No, says the apostle, but also for the uncircumcised
Gentiles:  who, by faith and grace, may come to justice; as Abraham did
before he was circumcised.
4:10. How then was it reputed?  When he was in circumcision or in
uncircumcision?  Not in circumcision, but in uncircumcision.
4:11. And he received the sign of circumcision, a seal of the justice
of the faith which he had, being uncircumcised:  that he might be the
father of all them that believe, being uncircumcised:  that unto them
also it may be reputed to justice:
4:12. And he might be the father of circumcision; not to them only that
are of the circumcision, but to them also that follow the steps of the
faith that is in the uncircumcision of our father Abraham.
4:13. For not through the law was the promise to Abraham or to his
seed, that he should be heir of the world:  but through the justice of
4:14. For if they who are of the law be heirs, faith is made void:  the
promise is made of no effect.
Be heirs. . .That is, if they alone, who follow the ceremonies of the
law, be heirs of the blessings promised to Abraham; then that faith
which was so much praised in him, will be found to be of little value.
And the very promise will be made void, by which he was promised to be
the father, not of the Jews only, but of all nations of believers.
4:15. For the law worketh wrath.  For where there is no law, neither is
there transgression.
The law worketh wrath. . .The law, abstracting from faith and grace,
worketh wrath occasionally, by being an occasion of many
transgressions, which provoke God's wrath.
4:16. Therefore is it of faith, that according to grace the promise
might be firm to all the seed:  not to that only which is of the law,
but to that also which is of the faith of Abraham, who is the father of
4:17. (As it is written:  I have made thee a father of many nations),
before God, whom he believed:  who quickeneth the dead and calleth those
things that are not, as those that are.
4:18. Who against hope believed in hope; that he might be made the
father of many nations, according to that which was said to him:  So
shall thy seed be.
4:19. And he was not weak in faith.  Neither did he consider his own
body, now dead (whereas he was almost an hundred years old), nor the
dead womb of Sara.
4:20. In the promise also of God he staggered not by distrust:  but was
strengthened in faith, giving glory to God:
4:21. Most fully knowing that whatsoever he has promised, he is able
also to perform.
4:22. And therefore it was reputed to him unto justice.
4:23. Now it is not written only for him.  that it was reputed to him
unto justice,
4:24. But also for us, to whom it shall be reputed, if we believe in
him that raised up Jesus Christ, our Lord, from the dead,
4:25. Who was delivered up for our sins and rose again for our
justification.
Romans Chapter 5
The grounds we have for hope in Christ.  Sin and death came by Adam,
grace and life by Christ.
5:1. Being justified therefore by faith, let us have peace with God,
through our Lord Jesus Christ:
5:2. By whom also we have access through faith into this grace wherein
we stand:  and glory in the hope of the glory of the sons of God.
5:3. And not only so:  but we glory also in tribulation, knowing that
tribulation worketh patience;
5:4. And patience trial; and trial hope;
5:5. And hope confoundeth not:  because the charity of God is poured
forth in our hearts, by the Holy Ghost who is given to us.
5:6. For why did Christ, when as yet we were weak, according to the
time, die for the ungodly?
5:7. For scarce for a just man will one die:  yet perhaps for a good man
some one would dare to die.
5:8. But God commendeth his charity towards us:  because when as yet we
were sinners according to the time.
5:9. Christ died for us.  Much more therefore, being now justified by
his blood, shall we be saved from wrath through him.
5:10. For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the
death of his Son:  much more, being reconciled, shall we be saved by his
5:11. And not only so:  but also we glory in God, through our Lord Jesus
Christ, by whom we have now received reconciliation.
5:12. Wherefore as by one man sin entered into this world and by sin
death:  and so death passed upon all men, in whom all have sinned.
By one man. . .Adam, from whom we all contracted original sin.
5:13. For until the law sin was in the world:  but sin was not imputed,
when the law was not.
Not imputed. . .That is, men knew not, or made no account of sin,
neither was it imputed to them, in the manner it was afterwards, when
they transgressed the known written law of God.
5:14. But death reigned from Adam unto Moses, even over them also who
have not sinned, after the similitude of the transgression of Adam, who
is a figure of him who was to come.
5:15. But not as the offence, so also the gift.  For if by the offence
of one, many died:  much more the grace of God and the gift, by the
grace of one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many.
5:16. And not as it was by one sin, so also is the gift.  For judgment
indeed was by one unto condemnation:  but grace is of many offences unto
justification.
5:17. For if by one man's offence death reigned through one; much more
they who receive abundance of grace and of the gift and of justice
shall reign in life through one, Jesus Christ.
5:18. Therefore, as by the offence of one, unto all men to
condemnation:  so also by the justice of one, unto all men to
justification of life.
5:19. For as by the disobedience of one man, many were made sinners:  so
also by the obedience of one, many shall be made just.
5:20. Now the law entered in that sin might abound.  And where sin
abounded, grace did more abound.
That sin might abound. . .Not as if the law were given on purpose for
sin to abound:  but that it so happened through man's perversity, taking
occasion of sinning more, from the prohibition of sin.
5:21. That as sin hath reigned to death:  so also grace might reign by
justice unto life everlasting, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Romans Chapter 6
The Christian must die to sin and live to God.
6:1. What shall we say, then?  Shall we continue in sin, that grace may
6:2. God forbid!  For we that are dead to sin, how shall we live any
longer therein?
6:3. Know you not that all we who are baptized in Christ Jesus are
baptized in his death?
6:4. For we are buried together with him by baptism into death:  that,
as Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also
may walk in newness of life.
6:5. For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death,
we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection.
6:6. Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the
body of sin may be destroyed, to the end that we may serve sin no
Old man--body of sin. . .Our corrupt state, subject to sin and
concupiscence, coming to us from Adam, is called our old man, as our
state, reformed in and by Christ, is called the new man.  And the vices
and sins, which then ruled in us are named the body of sin.
6:7. For he that is dead is justified from sin.
6:8. Now, if we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall live also
together with Christ.
6:9. Knowing that Christ, rising again from the dead, dieth now no
more.  Death shall no more have dominion over him.
6:10. For in that he died to sin, he died once:  but in that he liveth,
he liveth unto God.
6:11. So do you also reckon that you are dead to sin, but alive unto
God, in Christ Jesus our Lord.
6:12. Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, so as to obey
the lusts thereof.
6:13. Neither yield ye your members as instruments of iniquity unto
sin:  but present yourselves to God, as those that are alive from the
dead; and your members as instruments of justice unto God.
6:14. For sin shall not have dominion over you:  for you are not under
the law, but under grace.
6:15. What then?  Shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but
under grace?  God forbid!
6:16. Know you not that to whom you yield yourselves servants to obey,
his servants you are whom you obey, whether it be of sin unto death or
of obedience unto justice.
6:17. But thanks be to God, that you were the servants of sin but have
obeyed from the heart unto that form of doctrine into which you have
been delivered.
6:18. Being then freed from sin, we have been made servants of justice.
6:19. I speak an human thing, because of the infirmity of your flesh.
For as you have yielded your members to serve uncleanness and iniquity,
unto iniquity:  so now yield your members to serve justice, unto
sanctification.
6:20. For when you were the servants of sin, you were free men to
6:21. What fruit therefore had you then in those things of which you
are now ashamed?  For the end of them is death.
6:22. But now being made free from sin and become servants to God, you
have your fruit unto sanctification, and the end life everlasting.
6:23. For the wages of sin is death.  But the grace of God, life
everlasting in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans Chapter 7
We are released by Christ from the law and from the guilt of sin,
though the inclination to it still tempts us.
7:1. Know you not, brethren (for I speak to them that know the law)
that the law hath dominion over a man as long as it liveth?
As long as it liveth;. . .or, as long as he liveth.
7:2. For the woman that hath an husband, whilst her husband liveth is
bound to the law.  But if her husband be dead, she is loosed from the
law of her husband.
7:3. Therefore, whilst her husband liveth, she shall be called an
adulteress, if she be with another man:  but if her husband be dead, she
is delivered from the law of her husband:  so that she is not an
adulteress, if she be with another man.
7:4. Therefore, my brethren, you also are become dead to the law, by
the body of Christ:  that you may belong to another, who is risen again
from the dead that we may bring forth fruit to God.
7:5. For when we were in the flesh, the passions of sins, which were by
the law, did work in our members, to bring forth fruit unto death.
7:6. But now we are loosed from the law of death wherein we were
detained; so that we should serve in newness of spirit, and not in the
oldness of the letter.
7:7. What shall we say, then?  Is the law sin?  God forbid!  But I do not
know sin, but by the law.  For I had not known concupiscence, if the law
did not say:  Thou shalt not covet.
7:8. But sin, taking occasion by the commandment, wrought in me all
manner of concupiscence.  For without the law sin was dead.
Sin taking occasion. . .Sin, or concupiscence, which is called sin,
because it is from sin, and leads to sin, which was asleep before, was
weakened by the prohibition:  the law not being the cause thereof, nor
properly giving occasion to it:  but occasion being taken by our corrupt
nature to resist the commandment laid upon us.
7:9. And I lived some time without the law.  But when the commandment
came, sin revived,
7:10. And I died.  And the commandment that was ordained to life, the
same was found to be unto death to me.
7:11. For sin, taking occasion by the commandment, seduced me:  and by
it killed me.
7:12. Wherefore the law indeed is holy:  and the commandment holy and
just and good.
7:13. Was that then which is good made death unto me?  God forbid!  But
sin, that it may appear sin, by that which is good, wrought death in
me:  that sin, by the commandment, might become sinful above measure.
That it may appear sin, or that sin may appear, viz. . .To be the
monster it is, which is even capable to take occasion from that which
is good, to work death.
7:14. For we know that the law is spiritual.  But I am carnal, sold
7:15. For that which I work, I understand not.  For I do not that good
which I will:  but the evil which I hate, that I do.
I do not that good which I will, etc. . .The apostle here describes the
disorderly motions of passion and concupiscence; which oftentimes in us
get the start of reason:  and by means of which even good men suffer in
the inferior appetite what their will abhors:  and are much hindered in
the accomplishment of the desires of their spirit and mind.  But these
evil motions, (though they are called the law of sin, because they come
from original sin, and violently tempt and incline to sin,) as long as
the will does not consent to them, are not sins, because they are not
7:16. If then I do that which I will not, I consent to the law, that it
7:17. Now then it is no more I that do it:  but sin that dwelleth in me.
7:18. For I know that there dwelleth not in me, that is to say, in my
flesh, that which is good.  For to will is present with me:  but to
accomplish that which is good, I find not.
7:19. For the good which I will, I do not:  but the evil which I will
not, that I do.
7:20. Now if I do that which I will not, it is no more I that do it:
but sin that dwelleth in me.
7:21. I find then a law, that when I have a will to do good, evil is
present with me.
7:22. For I am delighted with the law of God, according to the inward
7:23. But I see another law in my members, fighting against the law of
my mind and captivating me in the law of sin that is in my members.
7:24. Unhappy man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this
7:25. The grace of God, by Jesus Christ our Lord.  Therefore, I myself,
with the mind serve the law of God:  but with the flesh, the law of sin.
Romans Chapter 8
There is no condemnation to them that, being justified by Christ, walk
not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit.  Their strong
hope and love of God.
8:1. There is now therefore no condemnation to them that are in Christ
Jesus, who walk not according to the flesh.
8:2. For the law of the spirit of life, in Christ Jesus, hath delivered
me from the law of sin and of death.
8:3. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the
flesh, God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and of
sin, hath condemned sin in the flesh.
8:4. That the justification of the law might be fulfilled in us who
walk not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit.
8:5. For they that are according to the flesh mind the things that are
of the flesh:  but they that are according to the spirit mind the things
that are of the spirit.
8:6. For the wisdom of the flesh is death:  but the wisdom of the spirit
is life and peace.
8:7. Because the wisdom of the flesh is an enemy to God.  For it is not
subject to the law of God:  neither can it be.
8:8. And they who are in the flesh cannot please God.
8:9. But you are not in the flesh, but the spirit, if so be that the
Spirit of God dwell in you.  Now if any man have not the Spirit of
Christ, he is none of his.
8:10. And if Christ be in you, the body indeed is dead, because of sin:
but the spirit liveth, because of justification.
8:11. And if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell
in you; he that raised up Jesus Christ, from the dead shall quicken
also your mortal bodies, because of his Spirit that dwelleth in you.
8:12. Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh to live
according to the flesh.
8:13. For if you live according to the flesh, you shall die:  but if by
the Spirit you mortify the deeds of the flesh, you shall live.
8:14. For whosoever are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of
8:15. For you have not received the spirit of bondage again in fear:
but you have received the spirit of adoption of sons, whereby we cry:
Abba (Father).
8:16. For the Spirit himself giveth testimony to our spirit that we are
the sons of God.
The Spirit himself, etc. . .By the inward motions of divine love, and
the peace of conscience, which the children of God experience, they
have a kind of testimony of God's favour; by which they are much
strengthened in their hope of their justification and salvation; but
yet not so as to pretend to an absolute assurance:  which is not usually
granted in this mortal life:  during which we are taught to work out our
salvation with fear and trembling.  Phil. 2.12.  And that he that
thinketh himself to stand, must take heed lest he fall.  1 Cor. 10.12.
See also, Rom. 11.20, 21, 22.
8:17. And if sons, heirs also; heirs indeed of God and joint heirs with
Christ:  yet so, if we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified
8:18. For I reckon that the sufferings of this time are not worthy to
be compared with the glory to come that shall be revealed in us.
8:19. For the expectation of the creature waiteth for the revelation of
the sons of God.
The expectation of the creature, etc. . .He speaks of the corporeal
creation, made for the use and service of man; and, by occasion of his
sin, made subject to vanity, that is, to a perpetual instability,
tending to corruption and other defects; so that by a figure of speech
it is here said to groan and be in labour, and to long for its
deliverance, which is then to come, when sin shall reign no more; and
God shall raise the bodies and unite them to their souls never more to
separate, and to be in everlasting happiness in heaven.
8:20. For the creature was made subject to vanity:  not willingly, but
by reason of him that made it subject, in hope.
8:21. Because the creature also itself shall be delivered from the
servitude of corruption, into the liberty of the glory of the children
8:22. For we know that every creature groaneth and travaileth in pain,
even till now.
8:23. And not only it, but ourselves also, who have the firstfruits of
the Spirit:  even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the
adoption of the sons of God, the redemption of our body.
8:24. For we are saved by hope.  But hope that is seen is not hope.  For
what a man seeth, why doth he hope for?
8:25. But if we hope for that which we see not, we wait for it with
8:26. Likewise, the Spirit also helpeth our infirmity.  For, we know not
what we should pray for as we ought:  but the Spirit himself asketh for
us with unspeakable groanings,
Asketh for us. . .The Spirit is said to ask, and desire for the saints,
and to pray in us; inasmuch as he inspireth prayer, and teacheth us to
8:27. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what the Spirit
desireth:  because he asketh for the saints according to God.
8:28. And we know that to them that love God all things work together
unto good:  to such as, according to his purpose, are called to be
8:29. For whom he foreknew, he also predestinated to be made
conformable to the image of his Son:  that he might be the Firstborn
amongst many brethren.
He also predestinated, etc. . .That is, God hath preordained that all
his elect should be conformable to the image of his Son.  We must not
here offer to pry into the secrets of God's eternal election; only
firmly believe that all our good, in time and eternity, flows
originally from God's free goodness; and all our evil from man's free
8:30. And whom he predestinated, them he also called.  And whom he
called, them he also justified.  And whom he justified, them he also
8:31. What shall we then say to these things?  If God be for us, who is
8:32. He that spared not even his own Son, but delivered him up for us
all, how hath he not also, with him, given us all things?
8:33. Who shall accuse against the elect of God?  God is he that
8:34. Who is he that shall condemn?  Christ Jesus that died:  yea that is
risen also again, who is at the right hand of God, who also maketh
intercession for us.
8:35. Who then shall separate us from the love of Christ?  Shall
tribulation?  Or distress?  Or famine?  Or nakedness?  Or danger?  Or
persecution?  Or the sword?
8:36. (As it is written:  For thy sake, we are put to death all the day
long.  We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.)
8:37. But in all these things we overcome, because of him that hath
8:38. For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor
principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor
I am sure. . .That is, I am persuaded; as it is in the Greek, pepeismai.
8:39. Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to
separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans Chapter 9
The apostle's concern for the Jews.  God's election is free and not
confined to their nation.
9:1. I speak the truth in Christ:  I lie not, my conscience bearing me
witness in the Holy Ghost:
9:2. That I have great sadness and continual sorrow in my heart.
9:3. For I wished myself to be an anathema from Christ, for my
brethren:  who are my kinsmen according to the flesh:
Anathema;. . .A curse.  The apostle's concern and love for his countrymen
the Jews was so great, that he was willing to suffer even an anathema,
or curse, for their sake; or any evil that could come upon him, without
his offending God.
9:4. Who are Israelites:  to whom belongeth the adoption as of children
and the glory and the testament and the giving of the law and the
service of God and the promises:
9:5. Whose are the fathers and of whom is Christ, according to the
flesh, who is over all things, God blessed for ever.  Amen.
9:6. Not as though the word of God hath miscarried.  For all are not
Israelites that are of Israel.
All are not Israelites, etc. . .Not all, who are the carnal seed of
Israel, are true Israelites in God's account:  who, as by his free
grace, he heretofore preferred Isaac before Ismael, and Jacob before
Esau, so he could, and did by the like free grace, election and mercy,
raise up spiritual children by faith to Abraham and Israel, from among
the Gentiles, and prefer them before the carnal Jews.
9:7. Neither are all they that are the seed of Abraham, children:  but
in Isaac shall thy seed be called.
9:8. That is to say, not they that are the children of the flesh are
the children of God:  but they that are the children of the promise are
accounted for the seed.
9:9. For this is the word of promise:  According to this time will I
come.  And Sara shall have a son.
9:10. And not only she.  But when Rebecca also had conceived at once of
Isaac our father.
9:11. For when the children were not yet born, nor had done any good or
evil (that the purpose of God according to election might stand):
Not yet born, etc. . .By this example of these twins, and the preference
of the younger to the elder, the drift of the apostle is, to shew that
God, in his election, mercy and grace, is not tied to any particular
nation, as the Jews imagined; nor to any prerogative of birth, or any
forgoing merits.  For as, antecedently to his grace, he sees no merits
in any, but finds all involved in sin, in the common mass of
condemnation; and all children of wrath:  there is no one whom he might
not justly leave in that mass; so that whomsoever he delivers from it,
he delivers in his mercy:  and whomsoever he leaves in it, he leaves in
his justice.  As when, of two equally criminal, the king is pleased out
of pure mercy to pardon one, whilst he suffers justice to take place in
the execution of the other.
9:12. Not of works, but of him that calleth, it was said to her:  The
elder shall serve the younger.
9:13. As it is written:  Jacob I have loved:  but Esau I have hated.
9:14. What shall we say then?  Is there injustice with God?  God forbid!
9:15. For he saith to Moses:  I will have mercy on whom I will have
mercy.  And I will shew mercy to whom I will shew mercy.
9:16. So then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth,
but of God that sheweth mercy.
Not of him that willeth, etc. . .That is, by any power or strength of
his own, abstracting from the grace of God.
9:17. For the scripture saith to Pharao:  To this purpose have I raised
thee, that I may shew my power in thee and that my name may be declared
throughout all the earth.
To this purpose, etc. . .Not that God made him on purpose that he should
sin, and so be damned; but foreseeing his obstinacy in sin, and the
abuse of his own free will, he raised him up to be a mighty king, to
make a more remarkable example of him:  and that his power might be
better known, and his justice in punishing him, published throughout
9:18. Therefore he hath mercy on whom he will.  And whom he will, he
He hardeneth. . .Not by being the cause or author of his sin, but by
withholding his grace, and so leaving him in his sin, in punishment of
his past demerits.
9:19. Thou wilt say therefore to me:  Why doth he then find fault?  For
who resisteth his will?
9:20. O man, who art thou that repliest against God?  Shall the thing
formed say to him that formed it:  Why hast thou made me thus?
9:21. Or hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump, to
make one vessel unto honour and another unto dishonour?
The potter. . .This similitude is used only to shew that we are not to
dispute with our Maker, nor to reason with him why he does not give as
much grace to one as to another; for since the whole lump of our clay
is vitiated by sin, it is owing to his goodness and mercy, that he
makes out of it so many vessels of honor; and it is no more than just,
that others, in punishment of their unrepented sins, should be given up
to be vessels of dishonor.
9:22. What if God, willing to shew his wrath and to make his power
known, endured with much patience vessels of wrath, fitted for
destruction,
9:23. That he might shew the riches of his glory on the vessels of
mercy which he hath prepared unto glory?
9:24. Even us, whom also he hath called, not only of the Jews but also
of the Gentiles.
9:25. As in Osee he saith:  I will call that which was not my people, my
people; and her that was not beloved, beloved; and her that had not
obtained mercy; one that hath obtained mercy.
9:26. And it shalt be in the place where it was said unto them:  you are
not my people; there they shall be called the sons of the living God.
9:27. And Isaias cried out concerning Israel:  If the number of the
children of Israel be as the sand of the sea, a remnant shall be saved.
A remnant. . .That is, a small number only of the children of Israel
shall be converted and saved.  How perversely is this text quoted for
the salvation of men of all religions, when it speaks only of the
converts of the children of Israel!
9:28. For he shall finish his word and cut it short in justice:  because
a short word shall the Lord make upon the earth.
9:29. And Isaias foretold:  Unless the Lord of Sabbath had left us a
seed, we had been made as Sodom and we had been like unto Gomorrha.
9:30. What then shall we say?  That the Gentiles who followed not after
justice have attained to justice, even the justice that is of faith.
9:31. But Israel, by following after the law of justice, is not come
unto the law of justice.
9:32. Why so?  Because they sought it not by faith, but as it were of
works.  For they stumbled at the stumblingstone.
9:33. As it is written:  Behold I lay in Sion a stumbling-stone and a
rock of scandal.  And whosoever believeth in him shall not be
Romans Chapter 10
The end of the law is faith in Christ.  which the Jews refusing to
submit to, cannot be justified.
10:1. Brethren, the will of my heart, indeed and my prayer to God is
for them unto salvation.
10:2. For I bear them witness that they have a zeal of God, but not
according to knowledge.
10:3. For they, not knowing the justice of God and seeking to establish
their own, have not submitted themselves to the justice of God.
The justice of God. . .That is, the justice which God giveth us through
Christ; as on the other hand, the Jews' own justice is, that which they
pretended to by their own strength, or by the observance of the law,
without faith in Christ.
10:4. For the end of the law is Christ:  unto justice to everyone that
10:5. For Moses wrote that the justice which is of the law:  The man
that shall do it shall live by it.
10:6. But the justice which is of faith, speaketh thus:  Say not in thy
heart:  Who shall ascend into heaven?  That is to bring Christ down;
10:7. Or who shall descend into the deep?  That is, to bring up Christ
again from the dead.
10:8. But what saith the scripture?  The word is nigh thee; even in thy
mouth and in thy heart.  This is the word of faith, which we preach.
10:9. For if thou confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in
thy heart that God hath raised him up from the dead, thou shalt be
Thou shalt be saved. . .To confess the Lord Jesus, and to call upon the
name of the Lord (ver. 13) is not barely the professing a belief in the
person of Christ; but moreover, implies a belief of his whole doctrine,
and an obedience to his law; without which, the calling him Lord will
save no man.  St. Matt. 7.21.
10:10. For, with the heart, we believe unto justice:  but, with the
mouth, confession is made unto salvation.
10:11. For the scripture saith:  Whosoever believeth in him shall not be
10:12. For there is no distinction of the Jew and the Greek:  for the
same is Lord over all, rich unto all that call upon him.
10:13. For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be
10:14. How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed?
Or how shall they believe him of whom they have not heard?  And how
shall they hear without a preacher?
10:15. And how shall they preach unless they be sent, as it is written:
How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, of
them that bring glad tidings of good things?
Unless they be sent. . .Here is an evident proof against all new
teachers, who have all usurped to themselves the ministry without any
lawful mission, derived by succession from the apostles, to whom Christ
said, John 20.21, As my Father hath sent me, I also send you.
10:16. But all do not obey the gospel.  For Isaias saith:  Lord, who hath
believed our report?
10:17. Faith then cometh by hearing; and hearing by the word of Christ.
10:18. But I say:  Have they not heard?  Yes, verily:  Their sound hath
gone forth into all the earth:  and their words unto the ends of the
whole world.
10:19. But I say:  Hath not Israel known?  First, Moses saith:  I will
provoke you to jealousy by that which is not a nation:  by a foolish
nation I will anger you.
10:20. But Isaias is bold, and saith:  I was found by them that did not
seek me.  I appeared openly to them that asked not after me.
10:21. But to Israel he saith:  All the day long have I spread my hands
to a people that believeth not and contradicteth me.
Romans Chapter 11
God hath not cast off all Israel.  The Gentiles must not be proud but
stand in faith and fear.
11:1. I say then:  Hath God cast away his people?  God forbid!  For I
also am an Israelite of the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin.
11:2. God hath not cast away his people which he foreknew.  Know you not
what the scripture saith of Elias, how he calleth on God against
11:3. Lord, they have slain thy prophets, they have dug down thy
altars.  And I am left alone:  and they seek my life.
11:4. But what saith the divine answer to him?  I have left me seven
thousand men that have not bowed their knees to Baal.
Seven thousand, etc. . .This is very ill alleged by some, against the
perpetual visibility of the church of Christ; the more, because however
the number of the faithful might be abridged by the persecution of
Jezabel in the kingdom of the ten tribes, the church was at the same
time in a most flourishing condition (under Asa and Josaphat) in the
kingdom of Judah.
11:5. Even so then, at this present time also, there is a remnant saved
according to the election of grace.
11:6. And if by grace, it is not now by works:  otherwise grace is no
It is not now by works, etc. . .If salvation were to come by works, done
by nature, without faith and grace, salvation would not be a grace or
favour, but a debt; but such dead works are indeed of no value in the
sight of God towards salvation.  It is not the same with regard to works
done with, and by, God's grace; for to such works as these, he has
promised eternal salvation.
11:7. What then?  That which Israel sought, he hath not obtained:  but
the election hath obtained it.  And the rest have been blinded.
11:8. As it is written:  God hath given them the spirit of
insensibility; eyes that they should not see and ears that they should
not hear, until this present day.
God hath given them, etc. . .Not by his working or acting in them; but
by his permission, and by withdrawing his grace in punishment of their
11:9. And David saith:  Let their table be made a snare and a trap and a
stumbling block and a recompense unto them.
11:10. Let their eyes be darkened, that they may not see:  and bow down
their back always.
11:11. I say then:  Have they so stumbled, that they should fall?  God
forbid!  But by their offence salvation is come to the Gentiles, that
they may be emulous of them.
That they should fall. . .The nation of the Jews is not absolutely and
without remedy cast off for ever; but in part only, (many thousands of
them having been at first converted,) and for a time; which fall of
theirs, God has been pleased to turn to the good of the Gentiles.
11:12. Now if the offence of them be the riches of the world and the
diminution of them the riches of the Gentiles:  how much more the
fulness of them?
11:13. For I say to you, Gentiles:  As long indeed as I am the apostle
of the Gentiles, I will honour my ministry,
11:14. If, by any means, I may provoke to emulation them who are my
flesh and may save some of them.
11:15. For if the loss of them be the reconciliation of the world, what
shall the receiving of them be, but life from the dead?
11:16. For if the firstfruit be holy, so is the lump also:  and if the
root be holy, so are the branches.
11:17. And if some of the branches be broken and thou, being a wild
olive, art ingrafted in them and art made partaker of the root and of
the fatness of the olive tree:
11:18. Boast not against the branches.  But if thou boast, thou bearest
not the root:  but the root thee.
11:19. Thou wilt say then:  The branches were broken off that I might be
11:20. Well:  because of unbelief they were broken off.  But thou
standest by faith.  Be not highminded, but fear.
Thou standest by faith:  be not highminded, but fear. . .We see here that
he who standeth by faith may fall from it; and therefore must live in
fear, and not in the vain presumption and security of modern sectaries.
11:21. For if God hath not spared the natural branches, fear lest
perhaps also he spare not thee.
11:22. See then the goodness and the severity of God:  towards them
indeed that are fallen, the severity; but towards thee, the goodness of
God, if thou abide in goodness.  Otherwise thou also shalt be cut off.
Otherwise thou also shalt be cut off. . .The Gentiles are here
admonished not to be proud, nor to glory against the Jews:  but to take
occasion rather from their fall to fear and to be humble, lest they be
cast off.  Not that the whole church of Christ can ever fall from him;
having been secured by so many divine promises in holy writ; but that
each one in particular may fall; and therefore all in general are to be
admonished to beware of that, which may happen to any one in
11:23. And they also, if they abide not still in unbelief, shall be
grafted in:  for God is able to graft them in again.
11:24. For if thou were cut out of the wild olive tree, which is
natural to thee; and, contrary to nature, wert grafted into the good
olive tree:  how much more shall they that are the natural branches be
grafted into their own olive tree?
11:25. For I would not have you ignorant, brethren, of this mystery
(lest you should be wise in your own conceits) that blindness in part
has happened in Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles should come
11:26. And so all Israel should be saved, as it is written:  There shall
come out of Sion, he that shall deliver and shall turn away ungodliness
11:27. And this is to them my covenant:  when I shall take away their
11:28. As concerning the gospel, indeed, they are enemies for your
sake:  but as touching the election, they are most dear for the sake of
the fathers.
11:29. For the gifts and the calling of God are without repentance.
For the gifts and the calling of God are without. . .his repenting
himself of them; for the promises of God are unchangeable, nor can he
repent of conferring his gifts.
11:30. For as you also in times past did not believe God, but now have
obtained mercy, through their unbelief:
11:31. So these also now have not believed, for your mercy, that they
also may obtain mercy.
11:32. For God hath concluded all in unbelief, that he may have mercy
Concluded all in unbelief. . .He hath found all nations, both Jews and
Gentiles, in unbelief and sin; not by his causing, but by the abuse of
their own free will; so that their calling and election is purely owing
to his mercy.
11:33. O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the knowledge of
God!  How incomprehensible are his judgments, and how unsearchable his
11:34. For who hath known the mind of the Lord?  Or who hath been his
11:35. Or who hath first given to him, and recompense shall be made
11:36. For of him, and by him, and in him, are all things:  to him be
glory for ever.  Amen.
Romans Chapter 12
Lessons of Christian virtues.
12:1. I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercy of God, that you
present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto God, your
reasonable service.
12:2. And be not conformed to this world:  but be reformed in the
newness of your mind, that you may prove what is the good and the
acceptable and the perfect will of God.
12:3. For I say, by the grace that is given me, to all that are among
you, not to be more wise than it behoveth to be wise, but to be wise
unto sobriety and according as God hath divided to every one the
measure of faith.
12:4. For as in one body we have many members, but all the members have
not the same office:
12:5. So we, being many, are one body in Christ; and every one members
one of another:
12:6. And having different gifts, according to the grace that is given
us, either prophecy, to be used according to the rule of faith;
12:7. Or ministry, in ministering; or he that teacheth, in doctrine;
12:8. He that exhorteth, in exhorting; he that giveth, with simplicity;
he that ruleth, with carefulness; he that sheweth mercy, with
cheerfulness.
12:9. Let love be without dissimulation.  Hating that which is evil,
cleaving to that which is good,
12:10. Loving one another with the charity of brotherhood:  with honour
preventing one another.
12:11. In carefulness not slothful.  In spirit fervent.  Serving the
12:12. Rejoicing in hope.  Patient in tribulation.  Instant in prayer.
12:13. Communicating to the necessities of the saints.  Pursuing
hospitality.
12:14. Bless them that persecute you:  bless, and curse not.
12:15. Rejoice with them that rejoice:  weep with them that weep.
12:16. Being of one mind one towards another.  Not minding high things,
but consenting to the humble.  Be not wise in your own conceits.
12:17. To no man rendering evil for evil.  Providing good things, not
only in the sight of God but also in the sight of all men.
12:18. If it be possible, as much as is in you, have peace with all
12:19. Revenge not yourselves, my dearly beloved; but give place unto
wrath, for it is written:  Revenge is mine, I will repay, saith the
12:20. But if the enemy be hungry, give him to eat; if he thirst, give
him to drink.  For, doing this, thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his
12:21. Be not overcome by evil:  but overcome evil by good.
Romans Chapter 13
Lessons of obedience to superiors and mutual charity.
13:1. Let every soul be subject to higher powers.  For there is no power
but from God:  and those that are ordained of God.
13:2. Therefore, he that resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance of
God.  And they that resist purchase to themselves damnation.
13:3. For princes are not a terror to the good work, but to the evil.
Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power?  Do that which is good:  and
thou shalt have praise from the same.
13:4. For he is God's minister to thee, for good.  But if thou do that
which is evil, fear:  for he beareth not the sword in vain.  For he is
God's minister:  an avenger to execute wrath upon him that doth evil.
13:5. Wherefore be subject of necessity:  not only for wrath, but also
for conscience' sake.
13:6. For therefore also you pay tribute.  For they are the ministers of
God, serving unto this purpose.
13:7. Render therefore to all men their dues.  Tribute, to whom tribute
is due:  custom, to whom custom:  fear, to whom fear:  honour, to whom
13:8. Owe no man any thing, but to love one another.  For he that loveth
his neighbour hath fulfilled the law.
13:9. For:  Thou shalt not commit adultery:  Thou shalt not kill:  Thou
shalt not steal:  Thou shalt not bear false witness:  Thou shalt not
covet.  And if there be any other commandment, it is comprised in this
word:  Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
13:10. The love of our neighbour worketh no evil.  Love therefore is the
fulfilling of the law.
13:11. And that, knowing the season, that it is now the hour for us to
rise from sleep.  For now our salvation is nearer than when we believed.
13:12. The night is passed And the day is at hand.  Let us, therefore
cast off the works of darkness and put on the armour of light.
13:13. Let us walk honestly, as in the day:  not in rioting and
drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and
13:14. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ:  and make not provision for
the flesh in its concupiscences.
Romans Chapter 14
The strong must bear with the weak.  Cautions against judging and giving
14:1. Now him that is weak in faith, take unto you:  not in disputes
about thoughts.
14:2. For one believeth that he may eat all things:  but he that is
weak, let him eat herbs.
Eat all things. . .Viz., without observing the distinction of clean and
unclean meats, prescribed by the law of Moses:  which was now no longer
obligatory.  Some weak Christians, converted from among the Jews, as we
here gather from the apostle, made a scruple of eating such meats as
were deemed unclean by the law; such as swine's flesh, etc., which the
stronger sort of Christians did eat without scruple.  Now the apostle,
to reconcile them together, exhorts the former not to judge or condemn
the latter, using their Christian liberty; and the latter, to take care
not to despise or scandalize their weaker brethren, either by bringing
them to eat what in their conscience they think they should not, or by
giving them such offence, as to endanger the driving them thereby from
the Christian religion.
14:3. Let not him that eateth despise him that eateth not:  and he that
eateth not, let him not judge him that eateth.  For God hath taken him
14:4. Who art thou that judgest another man's servant?  To his own lord
he standeth or falleth.  And he shall stand:  for God is able to make him
14:5. For one judgeth between day and day:  and another judgeth every
day.  Let every man abound in his own sense.
Between day, etc. . .Still observing the sabbaths and festivals of the
14:6. He that regardeth the day regardeth it unto the Lord.  And he that
eateth eateth to the Lord:  for he giveth thanks to God.  And he that
eateth not, to the Lord he eateth not and giveth thanks to God.
14:7. For none of us liveth to himself:  and no man dieth to himself.
14:8. For whether we live, we live unto the Lord:  or whether we die, we
die unto the Lord.  Therefore, whether we live or whether we die, we are
14:9. For to this end Christ died and rose again:  that he might be Lord
both of the dead and of the living.
14:10. But thou, why judgest thou thy brother?  Or thou, why dost thou
despise thy brother?  For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of
14:11. For it is written:  As I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall
bow to me and every tongue shall confess to God.
14:12. Therefore every one of us shall render account to God for
14:13. Let us not therefore judge one another any more.  But judge this
rather, that you put not a stumblingblock or a scandal in your
brother's way.
14:14. I know, and am confident in the Lord Jesus, that nothing is
unclean of itself:  but to him that esteemeth any thing to be unclean,
to him it is unclean.
14:15. For if, because of thy meat, thy brother be grieved, thou
walkest not now according to charity.  Destroy not him with thy meat,
for whom Christ died.
14:16. Let not then our good be evil spoken of.
14:17. For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink:  but justice and
peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.
14:18. For he that in this serveth Christ pleaseth God and is approved
14:19. Therefore, let us follow after the things that are of peace and
keep the things that are of edification, one towards another.
14:20. Destroy not the work of God for meat.  All things indeed are
clean:  but it is evil for that man who eateth with offence.
14:21. It is good not to eat flesh and not to drink wine:  nor any thing
whereby thy brother is offended or scandalized or made weak.
14:22. Hast thou faith?  Have it to thyself before God.  Blessed is he
that condemneth not himself in that which he alloweth.
14:23. But he that discerneth, if he eat, is condemned; because not of
faith.  For all that is not of faith is sin.
Discerneth. . .That is, distinguisheth between meats, and eateth against
his conscience, what he deems unclean.  Of faith. . .By faith is here
understood judgment and conscience:  to act against which is always a
Romans Chapter 15
He exhorts them to be all of one mind and promises to come and see
15:1. Now, we that are stronger ought to bear the infirmities of the
weak and not to please ourselves.
15:2. Let every one of you Please his neighbour unto good, to
edification.
15:3. For Christ did not please himself:  but, as it is written:  The
reproaches of them that reproached thee fell upon me.
15:4. For what things soever were written were written for our
learning:  that, through patience and the comfort of the scriptures, we
might have hope.
15:5. Now the God of patience and of comfort grant you to be of one
mind, one towards another, according to Jesus Christ:
15:6. That with one mind and with one mouth you may glorify God and the
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
15:7. Wherefore, receive one another, as Christ also hath received you,
unto the honour of God.
15:8. For I say that Christ Jesus was minister of the circumcision for
the truth of God, to confirm the promises made unto the fathers:
Minister of the circumcision. . .That is, executed his office and
ministry towards the Jews, the people of the circumcision.
15:9. But that the Gentiles are to glorify God for his mercy, as it is
written:  Therefore will I confess to thee, O Lord, among the Gentiles
and will sing to thy name.
15:10. And again he saith:  rejoice ye Gentiles, with his people.
15:11. And again:  praise the Lord, all ye Gentiles:  and magnify him,
all ye people.
15:12. And again, Isaias saith:  There shall be a root of Jesse; and he
that shall rise up to rule the Gentiles, in him the Gentiles shall
15:13. Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in
believing:  that you may abound in hope and in the power of the Holy
15:14. And I myself also, my brethren, am assured of you that you also
are full of love, replenished with all knowledge, so that you are able
to admonish one another.
15:15. But I have written to you, brethren, more boldly in some sort,
as it were putting you in mind, because of the grace which is given me
15:16. That I should be the minister of Christ Jesus among the
Gentiles:  sanctifying the gospel of God, that the oblation of the
Gentiles may be made acceptable and sanctified in the Holy Ghost.
15:17. I have therefore glory in Christ Jesus towards God.
15:18. For I dare not to speak of any of those things which Christ
worketh not by me, for the obedience of the Gentiles, by word and deed,
15:19. By the virtue of signs and wonders, in the power of the Holy
Ghost, so that from Jerusalem round about, as far as unto Illyricum, I
have replenished the gospel of Christ.
15:20. And I have so preached this gospel, not where Christ was named,
lest I should build upon another man a foundation.
15:21. But as it is written:  They to whom he was not spoken of shall
see:  and they that have not heard shall understand.
15:22. For which cause also, I was hindered very much from coming to
you and have been kept away till now.
15:23. But now, having no more place in these countries and having a
great desire these many years past to come unto you,
15:24. When I shall begin to take my journey into Spain, I hope that,
as I pass, I shall see you and be brought on my way thither by you:  if
first, in part, I shall have enjoyed you.
15:25. But now I shall go to Jerusalem, to minister unto the saints.
15:26. For it hath pleased them of Macedonia and Achaia to make a
contribution for the poor of the saints that are in Jerusalem.
15:27. For it hath pleased them:  and they are their debtors.  For, if
the Gentiles have been made partakers of their spiritual things, they
ought also in carnal things to minister to them.
15:28. When therefore I shall have accomplished this and consigned to
them this fruit, I will come by you into Spain.
15:29. And I know that when I come to you I shall come in the abundance
of the blessing of the gospel of Christ.
15:30. I beseech you therefore, brethren, through our Lord Jesus Christ
and by the charity of the Holy Ghost, that you help me in your prayers
for me to God,
15:31. That I may be delivered from the unbelievers that are in Judea
and that the oblation of my service may be acceptable in Jerusalem to
15:32. That I may come to you with joy, by the will of God, and may be
refreshed with you.
15:33. Now the God of peace be with, you all.  Amen.
Romans Chapter 16
He concludes with salutations, bidding them beware of all that should
oppose the doctrine they had learned.
16:1. And I commend to you Phebe, our sister, who is in the ministry of
the church, that is in Cenchrae:
16:2. That you receive her in the Lord as becometh saints and that you
assist her in whatsoever business she shall have need of you.  For she
also hath assisted many, and myself also.
16:3. Salute Prisca and Aquila, my helpers, in Christ Jesus
16:4. (Who have for my life laid down their own necks:  to whom not I
only give thanks, but also all the churches of the Gentiles),
16:5. And the church which is in their house.  Salute Epenetus, my
beloved:  who is the firstfruits of Asia in Christ.
16:6. Salute Mary, who hath laboured much among you.
16:7. Salute Andronicus and Junias, my kinsmen and fellow prisoners:
who are of note among the apostles, who also were in Christ before me.
16:8. Salute Ampliatus, most beloved to me in the Lord.
16:9. Salute Urbanus, our helper in Christ Jesus and Stachys, my
16:10. Salute Apellas, approved in Christ.
16:11. Salute them that are of Aristobulus' household.  Salute Herodian,
my kinsman.  Salute them that are of Narcissus' household, who are in
16:12. Salute Tryphaena and Tryphosa, who labour in the Lord.  Salute
Persis, the dearly beloved, who hath much laboured in the Lord.
16:13. Salute Rufus, elect in the Lord, and his mother and mine.
16:14. Salute Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermas, Patrobas, Hermes:  and the
brethren that are with them.
16:15. Salute Philologus and Julia, Nereus and his sister, and
Olympias:  and all the saints that are with them.
16:16. Salute one another with an holy kiss.  All the churches of Christ
16:17. Now I beseech you, brethren, to mark them who make dissensions
and offences contrary to the doctrine which you have learned and avoid
16:18. For they that are such serve not Christ our Lord but their own
belly:  and by pleasing speeches and good words seduce the hearts of the
16:19. For your obedience is published in every place.  I rejoice
therefore in you.  But I would have you to be wise in good and simple in
16:20. And the God of peace crush Satan under your feet speedily.  The
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.
16:21. Timothy, my fellow labourer, saluteth you:  and Lucius and Jason
and Sosipater, my kinsmen.
16:22. I, Tertius, who wrote this epistle, salute you in the Lord.
16:23. Caius, my host, and the whole church saluteth you.  Erastus, the
treasurer of the city, saluteth you:  and Quartus, a brother.
16:24. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.  Amen.
16:25. Now to him that is able to establish you, according to my gospel
and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the
mystery which was kept secret from eternity;
16:26. (Which now is made manifest by the scriptures of the prophets,
according to the precept of the eternal God, for the obedience of
faith) known among all nations:
16:27. To God, the only wise, through Jesus Christ, to whom be honour
and glory for ever and ever.  Amen.
THE FIRST EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE CORINTHIANS
St. Paul, having planted the faithful in Corinth, where he had preached
a year and a half and converted a great many, went to Ephesus.  After
being there three years, he wrote this first Epistle to the Corinthians
and sent it by the same persons, Stephanus, Fortunatus and Achaicus,
who had brought their letter to him.  It was written about twenty-four
years after our Lord's Ascension and contains several matters
appertaining to faith and morals and also to ecclesiastical discipline.
1 Corinthians Chapter 1
He reproveth their dissensions about their teachers.  The world was to
be saved by preaching of the cross, and not by human wisdom or
1:1. Paul, called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God,
and Sosthenes a brother,
1:2. To the church of God that is at Corinth, to them that are
sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, with all that invoke
the name of our Lord Jesus Christ in every place of theirs and ours.
1:3. Grace to you and peace, from God our father and from the Lord
Jesus Christ.
1:4. I give thanks to my God always for you, for the grace of God that
is given you in Christ Jesus:
1:5. That in all things you are made rich in him, in all utterance and
in all knowledge;
1:6. As the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you,
1:7. So that nothing is wanting to you in any grace, waiting for the
manifestation of our Lord Jesus Christ.
1:8. Who also will confirm you unto the end without crime, in the days
of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.
1:9. God is faithful:  by whom you are called unto the fellowship of his
Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
1:10. Now I beseech you, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus
Christ, that you all speak the same thing and that there be no schisms
among you:  but that you be perfect in the same mind and in the same
1:11. For it hath been signified unto me, my brethren, of you, by them
that are of the house of Chloe, that there are contentions among you.
1:12. Now this I say, that every one of you saith:  I indeed am of Paul;
and I am of Apollo; and I of Cephas; and I of Christ.
1:13. Is Christ divided?  Was Paul then crucified for you?  Or were you
baptized in the name of Paul?
1:14. I give God thanks, that I baptized none of you but Crispus and
1:15. Lest any should say that you were baptized in my name.
1:16. And I baptized also the household of Stephanus.  Besides, I know
not whether I baptized any other.
1:17. For Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the gospel:  not
in wisdom of speech, lest the cross of Christ should be made void.
1:18. For the word of the cross, to them indeed that perish, is
foolishness:  but to them that are saved, that is, to us, it is the
power of God.
1:19. For it is written:  I will destroy the wisdom of the wise:  and the
prudence of the prudent I will reject.
1:20. Where is the wise?  Where is the scribe?  Where is the disputer of
this world?  Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?
1:21. For, seeing that in the wisdom of God, the world, by wisdom, knew
not God, it pleased God, by the foolishness of our preaching, to save
them that believe.
1:22. For both the Jews require signs:  and the Greeks seek after
1:23. But we preach Christ crucified:  unto the Jews indeed a
stumblingblock, and unto the Gentiles foolishness:
1:24. But unto them that are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ, the
power of God and the wisdom of God.
1:25. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men:  and the weakness of
God is stronger than men.
The foolishness, etc. . .That is to say, what appears foolish to the
world in the ways of God, is indeed most wise; and what appears weak is
indeed above all the strength and comprehension of man.
1:26. For see your vocation, brethren, that there are not many wise
according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble.
1:27. But the foolish things of the world hath God chosen, that he may
confound the wise:  and the weak things of the world hath God chosen,
that he may confound the strong.
1:28. And the base things of the world and the things that are
contemptible, hath God chosen:  and things that are not, that he might
bring to nought things that are:
1:29. That no flesh should glory in his sight.
1:30. But of him are you in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us
wisdom and justice and sanctification and redemption:
1:31. That, as it is written:  He that glorieth may glory in the Lord.
1 Corinthians Chapter 2
His preaching was not in loftiness of words, but in spirit and power.
And the wisdom he taught was not to be understood by the worldly wise
or sensual man, but only by the spiritual man.
2:1. And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not in loftiness of
speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of Christ.
2:2. For I judged not myself to know anything among you, but Jesus
Christ:  and him crucified.
2:3. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling.
2:4. And my speech and my preaching was not in the persuasive words of
human wisdom.  but in shewing of the Spirit and power:
2:5. That your faith might not stand on the wisdom of men, but on the
power of God.
2:6. Howbeit we speak wisdom among the perfect:  yet not the wisdom of
this world, neither of the princes of this world that come to nought.
2:7. But we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, a wisdom which is
hidden, which God ordained before the world, unto our glory:
2:8. Which none of the princes of this world knew.  For if they had
known it, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory.
2:9. But, as it is written:  That eye hath not seen, nor ear heard:
neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath
prepared for them that love him.
2:10. But to us God hath revealed them by his Spirit.  For the Spirit
searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God.
2:11. For what man knoweth the things of a man, but the spirit of a man
that is in him?  So the things also that are of God, no man knoweth, but
the Spirit of God.
2:12. Now, we have received not the spirit of this world, but the
Spirit that is of God:  that we may know the things that are given us
2:13. Which things also we speak:  not in the learned words of human
wisdom, but in the doctrine of the Spirit, comparing spiritual things
with spiritual.
2:14. But the sensual man perceiveth not these things that are of the
Spirit of God.  For it is foolishness to him:  and he cannot understand,
because it is spiritually examined.
The sensual man--the spiritual man. . .The sensual man is either he who
is taken up with sensual pleasures, with carnal and worldly affections;
or he who measureth divine mysteries by natural reason, sense, and
human wisdom only.  Now such a man has little or no notion of the things
of God.  Whereas the spiritual man is he who, in the mysteries of
religion, takes not human sense for his guide:  but submits his judgment
to the decisions of the church, which he is commanded to hear and obey.
For Christ hath promised to remain to the end of the world with his
church, and to direct her in all things by the Spirit of truth.
2:15. But the spiritual man judgeth all things:  and he himself is
judged of no man.
2:16. For who hath known the mind of the Lord, that he may instruct
him?  But we have the mind of Christ.
1 Corinthians Chapter 3
They must not contend about their teachers, who are but God's ministers
and accountable to him.  Their works shall be tried by fire.
3:1. And I, brethren, could not speak to you as unto spiritual, but as
unto carnal.  As unto little ones in Christ.
3:2. I gave you milk to drink, not meat:  for you were not able as yet.
But neither indeed are you now able:  for you are yet carnal.
3:3. For, whereas there is among you envying and contention, are you
not carnal and walk you not according to man?
3:4. For while one saith:  I indeed am of Paul:  and another:  I am of
Apollo:  are you not men?  What then is Apollo and what is Paul?
3:5. The ministers of him whom you have believed:  and to every one as
the Lord hath given.
3:6. I have planted, Apollo watered:  but God gave the increase.
3:7. Therefore, neither he that planteth is any thing, nor he that
watereth:  but God that giveth the increase.
3:8. Now he that planteth and he that watereth, are one.  And every man
shall receive his own reward, according to his own labour.
3:9. For we are God's coadjutors.  You are God's husbandry:  you are
God's building.
3:10. According to the grace of God that is given to me, as a wise
architect, I have laid the foundation:  and another buildeth thereon.
But let every man take heed how he buildeth thereupon.
3:11. For other foundation no man can lay, but that which is laid:
which is Christ Jesus.
3:12. Now, if any man build upon this foundation, gold, silver,
precious stones, wood, hay, stubble:
Upon this foundation. . .The foundation is Christ and his doctrine:  or
the true faith in him, working through charity.  The building upon this
foundation gold, silver, and precious stones, signifies the more
perfect preaching and practice of the gospel; the wood, hay, and
stubble, such preaching as that of the Corinthian teachers (who
affected the pomp of words and human eloquence) and such practice as is
mixed with much imperfection, and many lesser sins.  Now the day of the
Lord, and his fiery trial, (in the particular judgment immediately
after death,) shall make manifest of what sort every man's work has
been:  of which, during this life, it is hard to make a judgment.  For
then the fire of God's judgment shall try every man's work.  And they,
whose works, like wood, hay, and stubble, cannot abide the fire, shall
suffer loss; these works being found to be of no value; yet they
themselves, having built upon the right foundation, (by living and
dying in the true faith and in the state of grace, though with some
imperfection,) shall be saved yet so as by fire; being liable to this
punishment, by reason of the wood, hay, and stubble, which was mixed
with their building.
3:13. Every man's work shall be manifest.  For the day of the Lord shall
declare it, because it shall be revealed in fire.  And the fire shall
try every man's work, of what sort it is.
3:14. If any man's work abide, which he hath built thereupon, he shall
receive a reward.
3:15. If any mans work burn, he shall suffer loss:  but he himself shall
be saved, yet so as by fire.
3:16. Know you not that you are the temple of God and that the Spirit
of God dwelleth in you?
3:17. But if any man violate the temple of God, him shall God destroy.
For the temple of God is holy, which you are.
3:18. Let no man deceive himself.  If any man among you seem to be wise
in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise.
3:19. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.  For it is
written:  I will catch the wise in their own craftiness.
3:20. And again:  The Lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise, that they
3:21. Let no man therefore glory in men.
3:22. For all things are yours, whether it be Paul or Apollo or Cephas,
or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come.
For all are yours.
3:23. And you are Christ's.  And Christ is God's.
1 Corinthians Chapter 4
God's ministers are not to be judged.  He reprehends their boasting of
their preachers and describes the treatment the apostles every where
4:1. Let a man so account of us as of the ministers of Christ and the
dispensers of the mysteries of God.
4:2. Here now it is required among the dispensers that a man be found
4:3. But to me it is a very small thing to be judged by you or by man's
day.  But neither do I judge my own self.
4:4. For I am not conscious to myself of anything.  Yet am I not hereby
justified:  but he that judgeth me is the Lord.
4:5. Therefore, judge not before the time:  until the Lord come, who
both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness and will make
manifest the counsels of the hearts.  And then shall every man have
praise from God.
4:6. But these things, brethren, I have in a figure transferred to
myself and to Apollo, for your sakes:  that in us you may learn that one
be not puffed up against the other for another, above that which is
4:7. For who distinguisheth thee?  Or what hast thou that thou hast not
received, and if thou hast received, why dost thou glory, as if thou
hadst not received it?
4:8. You are now full:  you are now become rich:  you reign without us;
and I would to God you did reign, that we also might reign with you.
4:9. For I think that God hath set forth us apostles, the last, as it
were men appointed to death.  We are made a spectacle to the world and
to angels and to men.
4:10. We are fools for Christs sake, but you are wise in Christ:  we are
weak, but you are strong:  you are honourable, but we without honour.
4:11. Even unto this hour we both hunger and thirst and are naked and
are buffeted and have no fixed abode.
4:12. And we labour, working with our own hands.  We are reviled:  and we
bless.  We are persecuted:  and we suffer it.
4:13. We are blasphemed:  and we entreat.  We are made as the refuse of
this world, the offscouring of all, even until now.
4:14. I write not these things to confound you:  but I admonish you as
my dearest children.
4:15. For if you have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet not many
fathers.  For in Christ Jesus, by the gospel, I have begotten you.
4:16. Wherefore, I beseech you, be ye followers of me as I also am of
4:17. For this cause have I sent to you Timothy, who is my dearest son
and faithful in the Lord.  Who will put you in mind of my ways, which
are in Christ Jesus:  as I teach every where in every church.
4:18. As if I would not come to you, so some are puffed up.
4:19. But I will come to you shortly, if the Lord will:  and will know,
not the speech of them that are puffed up, but the power.
4:20. For the kingdom of God is not in speech, but in power.
4:21. What will you?  Shall I come to you with a rod?  Or in charity and
in the spirit of meekness?
1 Corinthians Chapter 5
He excommunicates the incestuous adulterer and admonishes them to purge
out the old leaven.
5:1. It is absolutely heard that there is fornication among you and
such fornication as the like is not among the heathens:  that one should
have his father's wife.
5:2. And you are puffed up and have not rather mourned:  that he might
be taken away from among you that hath done this thing.
5:3. I indeed, absent in body but present in spirit, have already
judged, as though I were present, him that hath so done,
5:4. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, you being gathered together
and my spirit, with the power of our Lord Jesus:
5:5. To deliver such a one to Satan for the destruction of the flesh,
that the spirit may be saved in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.
5:6. Your glorying is not good.  Know you not that a little leaven
corrupteth the whole lump?
5:7. Purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new paste, as you are
unleavened.  For Christ our pasch is sacrificed.
5:8. Therefore, let us feast, not with the old leaven, nor with the
leaven of malice and wickedness:  but with the unleavened bread of
sincerity and truth.
9. I wrote to you in an epistle not to keep company with fornicators.
5:10. I mean not with the fornicators of this world or with the
covetous or the extortioners or the servers of idols:  otherwise you
must needs go out of this world.
5:11. But now I have written to you, not to keep company, if any man
that is named a brother be a fornicator or covetous or a server of
idols or a railer or a drunkard or an extortioner:  with such a one, not
so much as to eat.
5:12. For what have I to do to judge them that are without?  Do not you
judge them that are within?
5:13. For them that are without, God will judge.  Put away the evil one
from among yourselves.
1 Corinthians Chapter 6
He blames them for going to law before unbelievers.  Of sins that
exclude from the kingdom of heaven.  The evil of fornication.
6:1. Dare any of you, having a matter against another, go to be judged
before the unjust:  and not before the saints?
6:2. Know you not that the saints shall judge this world?  And if the
world shall be judged by you, are you unworthy to judge the smallest
6:3. Know you not that we shall judge angels?  How much more things of
6:4. If therefore you have judgments of things pertaining to this
world, set them to judge who are the most despised in the church.
6:5. I speak to your shame.  Is it so that there is not among you any
one wise man that is able to judge between his brethren?
6:6. But brother goeth to law with brother:  and that before
unbelievers.
6:7. Already indeed there is plainly a fault among you, that you have
law suits one with another.  Why do you not rather take wrong?  Why do
you not rather suffer yourselves to be defrauded?
A fault. . .Lawsuits can hardly ever be without a fault, on the one side
or the other; and oftentimes on both sides.
6:8. But you do wrong and defraud:  and that to your brethren.
6:9. Know you not that the unjust shall not possess the kingdom of God?
Do not err:  Neither fornicators nor idolaters nor adulterers:
6:10. Nor the effeminate nor liers with mankind nor thieves nor
covetous nor drunkards nor railers nor extortioners shall possess the
kingdom of God.
6:11. And such some of you were.  But you are washed:  but you are
sanctified:  but you are justified:  in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ
and the Spirit of our God.
6:12. All things are lawful to me:  but all things are not expedient.
All things are lawful to me:  but I will not be brought under the power
All things are lawful, etc. . .That is, all indifferent things are
indeed lawful, inasmuch as they are not prohibited; but oftentimes they
are not expedient; as in the case of lawsuits, etc.  And much less would
it be expedient to be enslaved by an irregular affection to any thing,
how indifferent soever.
6:13. Meat for the belly and the belly for the meats:  but God shall
destroy both it and them.  But the body is not for fornication, but for
the Lord:  and the Lord for the body.
6:14. Now God hath raised up the Lord and will raise us up also by his
6:15. Know you not that your bodies are the members of Christ?  Shall I
then take the members of Christ and make them the members of an harlot?
6:16. Or know you not that he who is joined to a harlot is made one
body?  For they shall be, saith he, two in one flesh.
6:17. But he who is joined to the Lord is one spirit.
6:18. Fly fornication.  Every sin that a man doth is without the body:
but he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body.
6:19. Or know you not that your members are the temple of the Holy
Ghost, who is in you, whom you have from God:  and you are not your own?
6:20. For you are bought with a great price.  Glorify and bear God in
1 Corinthians Chapter 7
Lessons relating to marriage and celibacy.  Virginity is preferable to a
married state.
7:1. Now concerning the things whereof you wrote to me:  It is good for
a man not to touch a woman.
7:2. But for fear of fornication, let every man have his own wife:  and
let every woman have her own husband.
Have his own wife. . .That is, keep to his wife, which he hath.  His
meaning is not to exhort the unmarried to marry:  on the contrary, he
would have them rather continue as they are.  (Ver. 7:8.)  But he speaks
here to them that are already married; who must not depart from one
another, but live together as they ought to do in the marriage state.
7:3. Let the husband render the debt to his wife:  and the wife also in
like manner to the husband.
7:4. The wife hath not power of her own body:  but the husband.  And in
like manner the husband also hath not power of his own body:  but the
7:5. Defraud not one another, except, perhaps, by consent, for a time,
that you may give yourselves to prayer:  and return together again, lest
Satan tempt you for your incontinency.
7:6. But I speak this by indulgence, not by commandment.
By indulgence. . .That is, by a condescension to your weakness.
7:7. For I would that all men were even as myself.  But every one hath
his proper gift from God:  one after this manner, and another after
7:8. But I say to the unmarried and to the widows:  It is good for them
if they so continue, even as I.
7:9. But if they do not contain themselves, let them marry.  For it is
better to marry than to be burnt.
If they do not contain, etc. . .This is spoken of such as are free, and
not of such as, by vow, have given their first faith to God; to whom if
they will use proper means to obtain it, God will never refuse the gift
of continency.  Some translators have corrupted this text, by rendering
it, if they cannot contain.
7:10. But to them that are married, not I, but the Lord, commandeth
that the wife depart not from her husband.
7:11. And if she depart, that she remain unmarried or be reconciled to
her husband.  And let not the husband put away his wife.
7:12. For to the rest I speak, not the Lord.  If any brother hath a wife
that believeth not and she consent to dwell with him:  let him not put
I speak, not the Lord. . .Viz., by any express commandment, or
7:13. And if any woman hath a husband that believeth not and he consent
to dwell with her:  let her not put away her husband.
7:14. For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the believing wife:
and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the believing husband.
Otherwise your children should be unclean:  but now they are holy.
Is sanctified. . .The meaning is not, that the faith of the husband or
the wife is of itself sufficient to put the unbelieving party, or their
children, in the state of grace and salvation; but that it is very
often an occasion of their sanctification, by bringing them to the true
7:15. But if the unbeliever depart, let him depart.  For a brother or
sister is not under servitude in such cases.  But God hath called us in
7:16. For how knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt save thy
husband?  Or how knowest thou, O man, whether thou shalt save thy wife?
7:17. But as the Lord hath distributed to every one, as God hath called
every one:  so let him walk.  And so in all churches I teach.
7:18. Is any man called, being circumcised?  Let him not procure
uncircumcision.  Is any man called in uncircumcision?  Let him not be
circumcised.
7:19. Circumcision is nothing and uncircumcision is nothing:  but the
observance of the commandments of God.
7:20. Let every man abide in the same calling in which he was called.
7:21. Wast thou called, being a bondman?  Care not for it:  but if thou
mayest be made free, use it rather.
7:22. For he that is called in the Lord, being a bondman, is the
freeman of the Lord.  Likewise he that is called, being free, is the
bondman of Christ.
7:23. You are bought with a price:  be not made the bondslaves of men.
7:24. Brethren, let every man, wherein he was called, therein abide
7:25. Now, concerning virgins, I have no commandment of the Lord:  but I
give counsel, as having obtained mercy of the Lord, to be faithful.
7:26. I think therefore that this is good for the present necessity:
that it is good for a man so to be.
7:27. Art thou bound to a wife?  Seek not to be loosed.  Art thou loosed
from a wife?  Seek not a wife.
7:28. But if thou take a wife, thou hast not sinned.  And if a virgin
marry, she hath not sinned:  nevertheless, such shall have tribulation
of the flesh.  But I spare you.
7:29. This therefore I say, brethren:  The time is short.  It remaineth,
that they also who have wives be as if they had none:
7:30. And they that weep, as though they wept not:  and they that
rejoice, as if they rejoiced not:  and they that buy as if they
possessed not:
7:31. And they that use this world, as if they used it not.  For the
fashion of this world passeth away.
7:32. But I would have you to be without solicitude.  He that is without
a wife is solicitous for the things that belong to the Lord:  how he may
7:33. But he that is with a wife is solicitous for the things of the
world:  how he may please his wife.  And he is divided.
7:34. And the unmarried woman and the virgin thinketh on the things of
the Lord:  that she may be holy both in body and in spirit.  But she that
is married thinketh on the things of the world:  how she may please her
7:35. And this I speak for your profit, not to cast a snare upon you,
but for that which is decent and which may give you power to attend
upon the Lord, without impediment.
7:36. But if any man think that he seemeth dishonoured with regard to
his virgin, for that she is above the age, and it must so be:  let him
do what he will.  He sinneth not if she marry.
Let him do what he will; he sinneth not, etc. . .The meaning is not, as
libertines would have it, that persons may do what they will and not
sin, provided they afterwards marry; but that the father, with regard
to the giving his virgin in marriage, may do as he pleaseth; and that
it will be no sin to him if she marry.
7:37. For he that hath determined, being steadfast in his heart, having
no necessity, but having power of his own will:  and hath judged this in
his heart, to keep his virgin, doth well.
7:38. Therefore both he that giveth his virgin in marriage doth well:
and he that giveth her not doth better.
7:39. A woman is bound by the law as long as her husband liveth:  but if
her husband die, she is at liberty.  Let her marry to whom she will:
only in the Lord.
7:40. But more blessed shall she be, if she so remain, according to my
counsel.  And I think that I also have the spirit of God.
1 Corinthians Chapter 8
Though an idol be nothing, yet things offered up to idols are not to be
eaten, for fear of scandal.
8:1. Now concerning those things that are sacrificed to idols:  we know
we all have knowledge.  Knowledge puffeth up:  but charity edifieth.
Knowledge puffeth up, etc. . .Knowledge, without charity and humility,
serveth only to puff persons up.
8:2. And if any man think that he knoweth any thing, he hath not yet
known as he ought to know.
8:3. But if any man love God, the same is known by him.
8:4. But as for the meats that are sacrificed to idols, we know that an
idol is nothing in the world and that there is no God but one.
8:5. For although there be that are called gods, either in heaven or on
earth (for there be gods many and lords many):
Gods many, etc. . .Reputed for such among the heathens.
8:6. Yet to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all
things, and we unto him:  and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all
things, and we by him.
8:7. But there is not knowledge in every one.  For some until this
present, with conscience of the idol, eat as a thing sacrificed to an
idol:  and their conscience, being weak, is defiled.
8:8. But meat doth not commend us to God.  For neither, if we eat, shall
we have the more:  nor, if we eat not, shall we have the less.
8:9. But take heed lest perhaps this your liberty become a
stumblingblock to the weak.
8:10. For if a man see him that hath knowledge sit at meat in the
idol's temple, shall not his conscience, being weak, be emboldened to
eat those things which are sacrificed to idols?
8:11. And through thy knowledge shall the weak brother perish, for whom
Christ hath died?
8:12. Now when you sin thus against the brethren and wound their weak
conscience, you sin against Christ.
8:13. Wherefore, if meat scandalize my brother, I will never eat flesh,
lest I should scandalize my brother.
If meat scandalize. . .That is, if my eating cause my brother to sin.
1 Corinthians Chapter 9
The apostle did not make use of his power of being maintained at the
charges of those to whom he preached, that he might give no hindrance
to the gospel.  Of running in the race and striving for the mastery.
9:1. Am I not I free?  Am not I an apostle?  Have not I seen Christ Jesus
our Lord?  Are not you my work in the Lord?
9:2. And if unto others I be not an apostle, but yet to you I am.  For
you are the seal of my apostleship in the Lord.
9:3. My defence with them that do examine me is this.
9:4. Have not we power to eat and to drink?
9:5. Have we not power to carry about a woman, a sister as well as the
rest of the apostles and the brethren of the Lord and Cephas?
A woman, a sister. . .Some erroneous translators have corrupted this
text by rendering it, a sister, a wife:  whereas, it is certain, St.
Paul had no wife (chap. 7 ver. 7, 8) and that he only speaks of such
devout women, as, according to the custom of the Jewish nation, waited
upon the preachers of the gospel, and supplied them with necessaries.
9:6. Or I only and Barnabas, have not we power to do this?
9:7. Who serveth as a soldier, at any time, at his own charges?  Who
planteth a vineyard and eateth not of the fruit thereof?  Who feedeth
the flock and eateth not of the milk of the flock?
9:8. Speak I these things according to man?  Or doth not the law also
say; these things?
9:9. For it is written in the law of Moses:  Thou shalt not muzzle the
mouth of the ox that treadeth out the corn.  Doth God take care for
9:10. Or doth he say this indeed for our sakes?  For these things are
written for our sakes:  that he that plougheth, should plough in hope
and he that thrasheth, in hope to receive fruit.
9:11. If we have sown unto you spiritual things, is it a great matter
if we reap your carnal things?
9:12. If others be partakers of this power over you, why not we rather?
Nevertheless, we have not used this power:  but we bear all things, lest
we should give any hindrance to the gospel of Christ.
9:13. Know you not that they who work in the holy place eat the things
that are of the holy place; and they that serve the altar partake with
9:14. So also the Lord ordained that they who preach the gospel should
live by the gospel.
9:15. But I have used none of these things.  Neither have I written
these things, that they should be so done unto me:  for it is good for
me to die rather than that any man should make my glory void.
9:16. For if I preach the gospel, it is no glory to me:  for a necessity
lieth upon me.  For woe is unto me if I preach not the gospel.
It is no glory. . .That is, I have nothing to glory of.
9:17. For if I do this thing willingly, I have a reward:  but if against
my will, a dispensation is committed to me.
9:18. What is my reward then?  That preaching the gospel, I may deliver
the gospel without charge, that I abuse not my power in the gospel.
9:19. For whereas I was free as to all, I made myself the servant of
all, that I might gain the more.
9:20. And I became to the Jews a Jew, that I might gain the Jews:
9:22. To the weak I became weak, that I might gain the weak.  I became
all things to all men, that I might save all.
9:23. And I do all things for the gospel's sake, that I may be made
partaker thereof.
9:24. Know you not that they that run in the race, all run indeed, but
one receiveth the prize.  So run that you may obtain.
9:25. And every one that striveth for the mastery refraineth himself
from all things.  And they indeed that they may receive a corruptible
crown:  but we an incorruptible one.
9:26. I therefore so run, not as at an uncertainty:  I so fight, not as
one beating the air.
9:27. But I chastise my body and bring it into subjection:  lest
perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become a
I chastise, etc. . .Here St. Paul shews the necessity of self-denial and
mortification, to subdue the flesh, and its inordinate desires.
1 Corinthians Chapter 10
By the example of the Israelites, he shews that we are not to build too
much upon favours received but to avoid their sins and fly from the
service of idols and from things offered to idols.
10:1. For I would not have you ignorant, brethren, that our fathers
were all under the cloud:  and all passed through the sea.
10:2. And all in Moses were baptized, in the cloud and in the sea:
In Moses. . .Under the conduct of Moses, they received baptism in
figure, by passing under the cloud, and through the sea; and they
partook of the body and blood of Christ in figure, by eating of the
manna, (called here a spiritual food because it was a figure of the
true bread which comes down from heaven,) and drinking the water,
miraculously brought out of the rock, called here a spiritual rock,
because it was also a figure of Christ.
10:3. And did all eat the same spiritual food:
10:4. And all drank the same spiritual drink:  (And they drank of the
spiritual rock that followed them:  and the rock was Christ.)
10:5. But with most of them God was not well pleased:  for they were
overthrown in the desert.
10:6. Now these things were done in a figure of us, that we should not
covet evil things, as they also coveted.
10:7. Neither become ye idolaters, as some of them, as it is written:
The people sat down to eat and drink and rose up to play.
10:8. Neither let us commit fornication, as some of them that committed
fornication:  and there fell in one day three and twenty thousand.
10:9. Neither let us tempt Christ, as some of them tempted and perished
by the serpent.
10:10. Neither do you murmur, as some of them murmured and were
destroyed by the destroyer.
10:11. Now all these things happened to them in figure:  and they are
written for our correction, upon whom the ends of the world are come.
The ends of the world. . .That is, the last ages.
10:12. Wherefore, he that thinketh himself to stand, let him take heed
lest he fall.
10:13. Let no temptation take hold on you, but such as is human.  And
God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which
you are able:  but will make also with temptation issue, that you may be
able to bear it.
Or. . .no temptation hath taken hold of you. . .or come upon you as yet,
but what is human, or incident to man.  Issue. . .or a way to escape.
10:14. Wherefore, my dearly beloved, fly from the service of idols.
10:15. I speak as to wise men:  judge ye yourselves what I say.
10:16. The chalice of benediction which we bless, is it not the
communion of the blood of Christ?  And the bread which we break, is it
not the partaking of the body of the Lord?
Which we bless. . .Here the apostle puts them in mind of their partaking
of the body and blood of Christ in the sacred mysteries, and becoming
thereby one mystical body with Christ.  From whence he infers, ver. 21,
that they who are made partakers with Christ, by the eucharistic
sacrifice and sacrament, must not be made partakers with devils by
eating of the meats sacrificed to them.
10:17. For we, being many, are one bread, one body:  all that partake of
One bread. . .or, as it may be rendered, agreeably both to the Latin and
Greek, because the bread is one, all we, being many, are one body, who
partake of that one bread.  For it is by our communicating with Christ,
and with one another, in this blessed sacrament, that we are formed
into one mystical body; and made, as it were, one bread, compounded of
many grains of corn, closely united together.
10:18. Behold Israel according to the flesh.  Are not they that eat of
the sacrifices partakers of the altar?
10:19. What then?  Do I say that what is offered in sacrifice to idols
is any thing?  Or that the idol is any thing?
10:20. But the things which the heathens sacrifice, they sacrifice to
devils and not to God.  And I would not that you should be made
partakers with devils.
10:21. You cannot drink the chalice of the Lord and the chalice of
devils:  you cannot be partakers of the table of the Lord and of the
table of devils.
10:22. Do we provoke the Lord to jealousy?  Are we stronger than he?  All
things are lawful for me:  but all things are not expedient.
10:23. All things are lawful for me:  but all things do not edify.
10:24. Let no man seek his own, but that which is another's.
10:25. Whatsoever is sold in the shambles, eat:  asking no question for
conscience' sake.
10:26. The earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof.
10:27. If any of them that believe not, invite you, and you be willing
to go:  eat of any thing that is set before you, asking no question for
conscience' sake.
10:28. But if any man say:  This has been sacrificed to idols:  do not
eat of it, for his sake that told it and for conscience' sake.
10:29. Conscience I say, not thy own, but the other's.  For why is my
liberty judged by another man's conscience?
10:30. If I partake with thanksgiving, why am I evil spoken of for that
for which I give thanks?
10:31. Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatsoever else you do,
do all to the glory of God.
10:32. Be without offence to the Jew, and to the Gentiles and to the
church of God:
10:33. As I also in all things please all men, not seeking that which
is profitable to myself but to many:  that they may be saved.
1 Corinthians Chapter 11
Women must have a covering over their heads.  He blameth the abuses of
their love feasts and upon that occasion treats of the Blessed
11:1. Be ye followers of me, as I also am of Christ.
11:2. Now I praise you, brethren, that in all things you are mindful of
me and keep my ordinances as I have delivered them to you.
11:3. But I would have you know that the head of every man is Christ:
and the head of the woman is the man:  and the head of Christ is God.
11:4. Every man praying or prophesying with his head covered disgraceth
11:5. But every woman praying or prophesying with her head not covered
disgraceth her head:  for it is all one as if she were shaven.
11:6. For if a woman be not covered, let her be shorn.  But if it be a
shame to a woman to be shorn or made bald, let her cover her head.
11:7. The man indeed ought not to cover his head:  because he is the
image and glory of God.  But the woman is the glory of the man.
11:8. For the man is not of the woman:  but the woman of the man.
11:9. For the man was not created for the woman:  but the woman for the
11:10. Therefore ought the woman to have a power over her head, because
of the angels.
A power. . .that is, a veil or covering, as a sign that she is under the
power of her husband:  and this, the apostle adds, because of the
angels, who are present in the assemblies of the faithful.
11:11. But yet neither is the man without the woman, nor the woman
without the man, in the Lord.
11:12. For as the woman is of the man, so also is the man by the woman:
but all things of God.
11:13. You yourselves judge.  Doth it become a woman to pray unto God
11:14. Doth not even nature itself teach you that a man indeed, if he
nourish his hair, it is a shame unto him?
11:15. But if a woman nourish her hair, it is a glory to her; for her
hair is given to her for a covering.
11:16. But if any man seem to be contentious, we have no such custom,
nor the Church of God.
11:17. Now this I ordain:  not praising you, that you come together, not
for the better, but for the worse.
11:18. For first of all I hear that when you come together in the
church, there are schisms among you.  And in part I believe it.
11:19. For there must be also heresies:  that they also, who are
approved may be made manifest among you.
There must be also heresies. . .By reason of the pride and perversity of
man's heart; not by God's will or appointment; who nevertheless draws
good out of this evil, manifesting, by that occasion, who are the good
and firm Christians, and making their faith more remarkable.
11:20. When you come therefore together into one place, it is not now
to eat the Lord's supper.
The Lord's supper. . .So the apostle here calls the charity feasts
observed by the primitive Christians; and reprehends the abuses of the
Corinthians, on these occasions; which were the more criminal, because
these feasts were accompanied with the celebrating of the eucharistic
sacrifice and sacrament.
11:21. For every one taketh before his own supper to eat.  And one
indeed is hungry and another is drunk.
11:22. What, have you no houses to eat and to drink in?  Or despise ye
the church of God and put them to shame that have not?  What shall I say
to you?  Do I praise you?  In this I praise you not.
11:23. For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto
you, that the Lord Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed, took
11:24. And giving thanks, broke and said:  Take ye and eat:  This is my
body, which shall be delivered for you.  This do for the commemoration
11:25. In like manner also the chalice, after he had supped, saying:
This chalice is the new testament in my blood.  This do ye, as often as
you shall drink, for the commemoration of me.
11:26. For as often as you shall eat this bread and drink the chalice,
you shall shew the death of the Lord, until he come.
11:27. Therefore, whosoever shall eat this bread, or drink the chalice
of the Lord unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and of the blood of
Or drink. . .Here erroneous translators corrupted the text, by putting
and drink (contrary to the original) instead of or drink.
Guilty of the body, etc., not discerning the body, etc. . .This
demonstrates the real presence of the body and blood of Christ, even to
the unworthy communicant; who otherwise could not be guilty of the body
and blood of Christ, or justly condemned for not discerning the Lord's
11:28. But let a man prove himself:  and so let him eat of that bread
and drink of the chalice.
Drink of the chalice. . .This is not said by way of command, but by way
of allowance, viz., where and when it is agreeable to the practice and
discipline of the church.
11:29. For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily eateth and drinketh
judgment to himself, not discerning the body of the Lord.
11:30. Therefore are there many infirm and weak among you:  and many
11:31. But if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged.
11:32. But whilst we are judged, we are chastised by the Lord, that we
be not condemned with this world.
11:33. Wherefore, my brethren, when you come together to eat, wait for
one another.
11:34. If any man be hungry, let him eat at home; that you come not
together unto judgment.  And the rest I will set in order, when I come.
1 Corinthians Chapter 12
Of the diversity of spiritual gifts.  The members of the mystical body,
like those of the natural body, must mutually cherish one another.
12:1. Now concerning spiritual things, my brethren, I would not have
you ignorant.
12:2. You know that when you were heathens, you went to dumb idols,
according as you were led.
12:3. Wherefore, I give you to understand that no man, speaking by the
Spirit of God, saith Anathema to Jesus.  And no man can say The Lord
Jesus, but by the Holy Ghost.
12:4. Now there are diversities of graces, but the same Spirit.
12:5. And there are diversities of ministries.  but the same Lord.
12:6. And there are diversities of operations, but the same God, who
worketh all in all.
12:7. And the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man unto
12:8. To one indeed, by the Spirit, is given the word of wisdom:  and to
another, the word of knowledge, according to the same Spirit:
12:9. To another, faith in the same spirit:  to another, the grace of
healing in one Spirit:
12:10. To another the working of miracles:  to another, prophecy:  to
another, the discerning of spirits:  to another, diverse kinds of
tongues:  to another, interpretation of speeches.
12:11. But all these things, one and the same Spirit worketh, dividing
to every one according as he will.
12:12. For as the body is one and hath many members; and all the
members of the body, whereas they are many, yet are one body:  So also
12:13. For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body, whether
Jews or Gentiles, whether bond or free:  and in one Spirit we have all
been made to drink.
12:14. For the body also is not one member, but many.
12:15. If the foot should say:  Because I am not the hand, I am not of
the body:  Is it therefore not of the Body?
12:16. And if the ear should say:  Because I am not the eye, I am not of
the body:  Is it therefore not of the body?
12:17. If the whole body were the eye, where would be the hearing?  If
the whole were hearing, where would be the smelling?
12:18. But now God hath set the members, every one of them, in the body
as it hath pleased him.
12:19. And if they all were one member, where would be the body?
12:20. But now there are many members indeed, yet one body.
12:21. And the eye cannot say to the hand:  I need not thy help.  Nor
again the head to the feet:  I have no need of you.
12:22. Yea, much, more those that seem to be the more feeble members of
the body are more necessary
12:23. And such as we think to be the less honourable members of the
body, about these we put more abundant honour:  and those that are our
uncomely parts have more abundant comeliness.
12:24. But our comely parts have no need:  but God hath tempered the
body together, giving to that which wanted the more abundant honour.
12:25. That there might be no schism in the body:  but the members might
be mutually careful one for another.
12:26. And if one member suffer any thing, all the members suffer with
it:  or if one member glory, all the members rejoice with it.
12:27. Now you are the body of Christ and members of member.
12:28. And God indeed hath set some in the church; first apostles,
secondly prophets, thirdly doctors:  after that miracles:  then the
graces of healings, helps, governments, kinds of tongues,
interpretations of speeches.
12:29. Are all apostles?  Are all prophets?  Are all doctors?
12:30. Are all workers of miracles?  Have all the grace of healing?  Do
all speak with tongues?  Do all interpret?
12:31. But be zealous for the better gifts.  And I shew unto you yet a
more excellent way.
1 Corinthians Chapter 13
Charity is to be preferred before all gifts.
13:1. If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
13:2. And if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries and
all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove
mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
13:3. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if
I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, it
profiteth me nothing.
13:4. Charity is patient, is kind:  charity envieth not, dealeth not
perversely, is not puffed up,
13:5. Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger,
thinketh no evil:
13:6. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth:
13:7. Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things.
13:8. Charity never falleth away:  whether prophecies shall be made void
or tongues shall cease or knowledge shall be destroyed.
13:9. For we know in part:  and we prophesy in part.
13:10. But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part
shall be done away.
13:11. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child,
I thought as a child.  But, when I became a man, I put away the things
13:12. We see now through a glass in a dark manner:  but then face to
face.  Now I know in part:  but then I shall know even as I am known.
13:13. And now there remain faith, hope, and charity, these three:  but
the greatest of these is charity.
1 Corinthians Chapter 14
The gift of prophesying is to be preferred before that of speaking
strange tongues.
14:1. Follow after charity, be zealous for spiritual gifts; but rather
that you may prophesy.
Prophesy. . .That is, declare or expound the mysteries of faith.
14:2. For he that speaketh in a tongue speaketh not unto men, but unto
God:  for no man heareth.  Yet by the Spirit he speaketh mysteries.
Not unto men. . .Viz., so as to be heard, that is, so as to be
understood by them.
14:3. But he that prophesieth speaketh to men unto edification and
exhortation and comfort.
14:4. He that speaketh in a tongue edifieth himself:  but he that
prophesieth, edifieth the church.
14:5. And I would have you all to speak with tongues, but rather to
prophesy.  For greater is he that prophesieth than he that speaketh with
tongues:  unless perhaps he interpret, that the church may receive
edification.
14:6. But now, brethren, if I come to you speaking with tongues, what
shall I profit you, unless I speak to you either in revelation or in
knowledge or in prophecy or in doctrine?
14:7. Even things without life that give sound, whether pipe or harp,
except they give a distinction of sounds, how shall it be known what is
piped or harped?
14:8. For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare
himself to the battle?
14:9. So likewise you, except you utter by the tongue plain speech, how
shall it be known what is said?  For you shall be speaking into the air.
14:10. There are, for example, so many kinds of tongues in this world:
and none is without voice.
14:11. If then I know not the power of the voice, I shall be to him to
whom I speak a barbarian:  and he that speaketh a barbarian to me.
14:12. So you also, forasmuch as you are zealous of spirits, seek to
abound unto the edifying of the church.
Of spirits. . .Of spiritual gifts.
14:13. And therefore he that speaketh by a tongue, let him pray that he
may interpret.
14:14. For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prayeth:  but my
understanding is without fruit.
14:15. What is it then?  I will pray with the spirit, I will pray also
with the understanding, I will sing with the spirit, I will sing also
with the understanding.
14:16. Else, if thou shalt bless with the spirit, how shall he that
holdeth the place of the unlearned say, Amen, to thy blessing?  Because
he knoweth not what thou sayest.
Amen. . .The unlearned, not knowing that you are then blessing, will not
be qualified to join with you by saying Amen to your blessing.  The use
or abuse of strange tongues, of which the apostle here speaks, does not
regard the public liturgy of the church, (in which strange tongues were
never used,) but certain conferences of the faithful, ver. 26, etc., in
which, meeting together, they discovered to one another their various
miraculous gifts of the Spirit, common in those primitive times;
amongst which the apostle prefers that of prophesying before that of
speaking strange tongues, because it was more to the public
edification.  Where also not, that the Latin, used in our liturgy, is so
far from being a strange or unknown tongue, that it is perhaps the best
known tongue in the world.
14:17. For thou indeed givest thanks well:  but the other is not
14:18. I thank my God I speak with all your tongues.
14:19. But in the church I had rather speak five words with my
understanding, that I may instruct others also:  than ten thousand words
in a tongue.
14:20. Brethren, do not become children in sense.  But in malice be
children:  and in sense be perfect.
14:21. In the law it is written:  In other tongues and other lips I will
speak to this people:  and neither so will they hear me, saith the Lord.
14:22. Wherefore tongues are for a sign, not to believers but to
unbelievers:  but prophecies, not to unbelievers but to believers.
14:23. If therefore the whole church come together into one place, and
all speak with tongues, and there come in unlearned persons or
infidels, will they not say that you are mad?
14:24. But if all prophesy, and there come in one that believeth not or
an unlearned person, he is convinced of all:  he is judged of all.
14:25. The secrets of his heart are made manifest.  And so, falling down
on his face, he will adore God, affirming that God is among you indeed.
14:26. How is it then, brethren?  When you come together, every one of
you hath a psalm, hath a doctrine, hath a revelation, hath a tongue,
hath an interpretation:  let all things be done to edification.
14:27. If any speak with a tongue, let it be by two, or at the most by
three, and in course:  and let one interpret.
14:28. But if there be no interpreter, let him hold his peace in the
church and speak to himself and to God.
14:29. And let the prophets speak, two or three:  and let the rest
14:30. But if any thing be revealed to another sitting, let the first
hold his peace.
14:31. For you may all prophesy, one by one, that all may learn and all
may be exhorted.
14:32. And the spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets.
14:33. For God is not the God of dissension, but of peace:  as also I
teach in all the churches of the saints.
14:34. Let women keep silence in the churches:  for it is not permitted
them to speak but to be subject, as also the law saith.
14:35. But if they would learn anything, let them ask their husbands at
home.  For it is a shame for a woman to speak in the church.
14:36. Or did the word of God come out from you?  Or came it only unto
14:37. If any seem to be a prophet or spiritual, let him know the
things that I write to you, that they are the commandments of the Lord.
14:38. But if any man know not, he shall not be known.
14:39. Wherefore, brethren, be zealous to prophesy:  and forbid not to
speak with tongues.
14:40. But let all things be done decently and according to order.
1 Corinthians Chapter 15
Christ's resurrection and ours.  The manner of our resurrection.
15:1. Now I make known unto you, brethren, the gospel which I preached
to you, which also you have received and wherein you stand.
15:2. By which also you are saved, if you hold fast after what manner I
preached unto you, unless you have believed in vain.
15:3. For I delivered unto you first of all, which I also received:  how
that Christ died for our sins, according to the scriptures:
15:4. And that he was buried:  and that he rose again according to the
15:5. And that he was seen by Cephas, and after that by the eleven.
15:6. Then was he seen by more than five hundred brethren at once:  of
whom many remain until this present, and some are fallen asleep.
15:7. After that, he was seen by James:  then by all the apostles.
15:8. And last of all, he was seen also by me, as by one born out of
15:9. For I am the least of the apostles, who am not worthy to be
called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God.
15:10. But by the grace of God, I am what I am.  And his grace in me
hath not been void:  but I have laboured more abundantly than all they.
Yet not I, but the grace of God with me:
15:11. For whether I or they, so we preach:  and so you have believed.
15:12. Now if Christ be preached, that he arose again from the dead,
how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?
15:13. But if there be no resurrection of the dead, then Christ is not
risen again.
15:14. And if Christ be not risen again, then is our preaching vain:
and your faith is also vain.
15:15. Yea, and we are found false witnesses of God:  because we have
given testimony against God, that he hath raised up Christ, whom he
hath not raised up, if the dead rise not again.
15:16. For if the dead rise not again, neither is Christ risen again.
15:17. And if Christ be not risen again, your faith is vain:  for you
are yet in your sins.
15:18. Then they also that are fallen asleep in Christ are perished.
15:19. If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men
most miserable.
15:20. But now Christ is risen from the dead, the firstfruits of them
15:21. For by a man came death:  and by a man the resurrection of the
15:22. And as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all shall be made
15:23. But every one in his own order:  the firstfruits, Christ:  then
they that are of Christ, who have believed in his coming.
15:24. Afterwards the end:  when he shall have delivered up the kingdom
to God and the Father:  when he shall have brought to nought all
principality and power and virtue.
15:25. For he must reign, until he hath put all his enemies under his
15:26. And the enemy, death, shall be destroyed last:  For he hath put
all things under his feet.  And whereas he saith:
15:27. All things are put under him; undoubtedly, he is excepted, who
put all things under him.
15:28. And when all things shall be subdued unto him, then the Son also
himself shall be subject unto him that put all things under him, that
God may be all in all.
The Son also himself shall be subject unto him. . .That is, the Son will
be subject to the Father, according to his human nature, even after the
general resurrection; and also the whole mystical body of Christ will
be entirely subject to God, obeying him in every thing.
15:29. Otherwise, what shall they do that are baptized for the dead, if
the dead rise not again at all?  Why are they then baptized for them?
That are baptized for the dead. . .Some think the apostle here alludes
to a ceremony then in use; but others, more probably, to the prayers
and penitential labours, performed by the primitive Christians for the
souls of the faithful departed; or to the baptism of afflictions and
sufferings undergone for sinners spiritually dead.
15:30. Why also are we in danger every hour?
15:31. I die daily, I protest by your glory, brethren, which I have in
Christ Jesus our Lord.
15:32. If (according to man) I fought with beasts at Ephesus, what doth
it profit me, if the dead rise not again?  Let us eat and drink, for to
morrow we shall die.
Let us eat and drink, etc. . .That is, if we did not believe that we
were to rise again from the dead, we might live like the impious and
wicked, who have no belief in the resurrection.
15:33. Be not seduced:  Evil communications corrupt good manners.
15:34. Awake, ye just, and sin not.  For some have not the knowledge of
God.  I speak it to your shame.
15:35. But some man will say:  How do the dead rise again?  Or with what
manner of body shall they come?
15:36. Senseless man, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except
it die first.
15:37. And that which thou sowest, thou sowest not the body that shall
be:  but bare grain, as of wheat, or of some of the rest.
15:38. But God giveth it a body as he will:  and to every seed its
proper body.
15:39. All flesh is not the same flesh:  but one is the flesh of men,
another of beasts, other of birds, another of fishes.
15:40. And there are bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial:  but, one
is the glory of the celestial, and another of the terrestrial.
15:41. One is the glory of the sun, another the glory of the moon, and
another the glory of the stars.  For star differeth from star in glory.
15:42. So also is the resurrection of the dead.  It is sown in
corruption:  it shall rise in incorruption.
15:43. It is sown in dishonour:  it shall rise in glory.  It is sown in
weakness:  it shall rise in power.
15:44. It is sown a natural body:  it shall rise a spiritual body.  If
there be a natural body, there is also a spiritual body, as it is
15:45. The first man Adam was made into a living soul; the last Adam
into a quickening spirit.
15:46. Yet that was not first which is spiritual, but that which is
natural:  afterwards that which is spiritual.
15:47. The first man was of the earth, earthly:  the second man, from
heaven, heavenly.
15:48. Such as is the earthly, such also are the earthly:  and such as
is the heavenly, such also are they that are heavenly.
15:49. Therefore, as we have borne the image of the earthly, let us
bear also the image of the heavenly.
15:50. Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot possess
the kingdom of God:  neither shall corruption possess incorruption.
15:51. Behold, I tell you a mystery.  We shall all indeed rise again:
but we shall not all be changed.
15:52. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet:
for the trumpet shall sound and the dead shall rise again
incorruptible.  And we shall be changed.
15:53. For this corruptible must put on incorruption:  and this mortal
must put on immortality.
15:54. And when this mortal hath put on immortality, then shall come to
pass the saying that is written:  Death is swallowed up in victory.
15:55. O death, where is thy victory?  O death, where is thy sting?
15:56. Now the sting of death is sin:  and the power of sin is the law.
15:57. But thanks be to God, who hath given us the victory through our
Lord Jesus Christ.
15:58. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast and unmoveable:
always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labour is
not in vain in the Lord.
1 Corinthians Chapter 16
Of collection of alms.  Admonitions and salutations.
16:1. Now concerning the collections that are made for the saints:  as I
have given order to the churches of Galatia, so do ye also.
16:2. On the first day of the week, let every one of you put apart with
himself, laying up what it shall well please him:  that when I come, the
collections be not then to be made.
16:3. And when I shall be with you, whomsoever you shall approve by
letters, them will I send to carry your grace to Jerusalem.
16:4. And if it be meet that I also go, they shall go with me.
16:5. Now I will come to you, when I shall have passed through
Macedonia.  For I shall pass through Macedonia.
16:6. And with you perhaps I shall abide, or even spend the winter:
that you may bring me on my way whithersoever I shall go.
16:7. For I will not see you now by the way:  for I trust that I shall
abide with you some time, if the Lord permit.
16:8. But I will tarry at Ephesus, until Pentecost.
16:9. For a great door and evident is opened unto me:  and many
adversaries.
16:10. Now if Timothy come, see that he be with you without fear:  for
he worketh the work of the Lord, as I also do.
16:11. Let no man therefore despise him:  but conduct ye him on his way
in peace, that he may come to me.  For I look for him with the brethren.
16:12. And touching our brother Apollo, I give you to understand that I
much entreated him to come unto you with the brethren:  and indeed it
was not his will at all to come at this time.  But he will come when he
shall have leisure.
16:13. Watch ye:  stand fast in the faith:  do manfully and be
strengthened.
16:14. Let all your things be done in charity.
16:15. And I beseech you, brethren, you know the house of Stephanus,
and of Fortunatus, and of Achaicus, that they are the firstfruits of
Achaia, and have dedicated themselves to the ministry of the saints:
16:16. That you also be subject to such and to every one that worketh
with us and laboureth.
16:17. And I rejoice in the presence of Stephanus and Fortunatus and
Achaicus:  because that which was wanting on your part, they have
16:18. For they have refreshed both my spirit and yours.  Know them,
therefore, that are such.
16:19. The churches of Asia salute you.  Aquila and Priscilla salute you
much in the Lord, with the church that is in their house, with whom I
16:20. All the brethren salute you.  Salute one another with a holy
16:21. The salutation of me Paul, with my own hand.
16:22. If any man love not our Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema,
Let him be anathema, maranatha. . .Anathema signifies here a thing
accursed.  Maran-atha, which, according to St. Jerome and St.
Chrysostom, signify, 'The Lord is come' already, and therefore is to be
taken as an admonition to those who doubted of the resurrection, and to
put them in mind that Christ, the judge of the living and the dead, is
come already.  Others explain Maran-atha:  'May our Lord come', that is,
to judge and punish those with exemplary judgments and punishments,
that do not love the Lord Jesus Christ.
16:23. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.
16:24. My charity be with you all in Christ Jesus.  Amen.
THE SECOND EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE CORINTHIANS
In this Epistle St. Paul comforts those who are now reformed by his
admonitions to them in the former and absolves the incestuous man on
doing penance, whom he had before excommunicated for his crime.  Hence
he treats of true penance and of the dignity of the ministers of the
New Testament.  He cautions the faithful against false teachers and the
society of infidels.  He gives an account of his sufferings and also of
the favours and graces which God hath bestowed on him.  This second
Epistle was written in the same year with the first and sent by Titus
from some place in Macedonia.
2 Corinthians Chapter 1
He speaks of his troubles in Asia.  His not coming to them was not out
of levity.  The constancy and sincerity of his doctrine.
1:1. Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, and Timothy
our brother:  to the church of God that is at Corinth, with all the
saints that are in all Achaia:
1:2. Grace unto you and peace from God our Father and from the Lord
Jesus Christ.
1:3. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father
of mercies and the God of all comfort:
1:4. Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we also may be able
to comfort them who are in all distress, by the exhortation wherewith
we also are exhorted by God.
1:5. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us:  so also by Christ
doth our comfort abound.
1:6. Now whether we be in tribulation, it is for your exhortation and
salvation:  or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation:  or
whether we be exhorted, it is for your exhortation and salvation, which
worketh the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer.
1:7. That our hope for you may be steadfast:  knowing that as you are
partakers of the sufferings, so shall you be also of the consolation.
1:8. For we would not have you ignorant, brethren, of our tribulation
which came to us in Asia:  that we were pressed out of measure above our
strength, so that we were weary even of life.
1:9. But we had in ourselves the answer of death, that we should not
trust in ourselves, but in God who raiseth the dead.
1:10. Who hath delivered and doth deliver us out of so great dangers:
in whom we trust that he will yet also deliver us,
1:11. You helping withal in prayer for us.  That for this gift obtained
for us, by the means of many persons, thanks may be given by many in
1:12. For our glory is this:  the testimony of our conscience, that in
simplicity of heart and sincerity of God, and not in carnal wisdom, but
in the grace of God, we have conversed in this world:  and more
abundantly towards you.
1:13. For we write no other things to you than what you have read and
known.  And I hope that you shall know unto the end.
1:14. As also you have known us in part, that we are your glory:  as you
also are ours, in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.
1:15. And in this confidence I had a mind to come to you before, that
you might have a second grace:
1:16. And to pass by you into Macedonia:  and again from Macedonia to
come to you, and by you to be brought on my way towards Judea.
1:17. Whereas then I was thus minded, did I use lightness?  Or, the
things that I purpose, do I purpose according to the flesh, that there
should be with me, It is, and It is not?
1:18. But God is faithful:  for our preaching which was to you, was not,
It is, and It is not.
1:19. For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who was preached among you by
us, by me and Sylvanus and Timothy, was not:  It is and It is not.  But,
It is, was in him.
It is, was in him. . .There was no inconstancy in the doctrine of the
apostles, sometimes, like modern sectaries, saying, It is, and at other
times saying, It is not.  But their doctrine was ever the same, one
uniform yea, in Jesus Christ, one Amen, that is, one truth in him.
1:20. For all the promises of God are in him, It is.  Therefore also by
him, amen to God, unto our glory.
1:21. Now he that confirmeth us with you in Christ and that hath
anointed us, is God:
1:22. Who also hath sealed us and given the pledge of the Spirit in our
1:23. But I call God to witness upon my soul that to spare you, I came
not any more to Corinth:  not because we exercise dominion over your
faith:  but we are helpers of your joy.  For in faith you stand.
2 Corinthians Chapter 2
He grants a pardon to the incestuous man upon his doing penance.
2:1. But I determined this with myself, to come to you again in sorrow.
2:2. For if I make you sorrowful, who is he then that can make me glad,
but the same who is made sorrowful by me?
2:3. And I wrote this same to you:  that I may not, when I come, have
sorrow upon sorrow from them of whom I ought to rejoice:  having
confidence in you all, that my joy is the joy of you all.
2:4. For out of much affliction and anguish of heart, I wrote to you
with many tears:  not that you should be made sorrowful:  but that you
might know the charity I have more abundantly towards you.
2:5. And if any one have caused grief, he hath not grieved me:  but in
part, that I may not burden you all.
2:6. To him who is such a one, this rebuke is sufficient, which is
given by many.
2:7. So that on the contrary, you should rather forgive him and comfort
him, lest perhaps such a one be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow.
2:8. Wherefore, I beseech you that you would confirm your charity
towards him.
2:9. For to this end also did I write, that I may know the experiment
of you, whether you be obedient in all things.
2:10. And to whom you have pardoned any thing, I also.  For, what I have
pardoned, if I have pardoned any thing, for your sakes have I done it
in the person of Christ:
I also. . .The apostle here granted an indulgence, or pardon, in the
person and by the authority of Christ, to the incestuous Corinthian,
whom before he had put under penance, which pardon consisted in a
releasing of part of the temporal punishment due to his sin.
2:11. That we be not overreached by Satan.  For we are not ignorant of
his devices.
2:12. And when I was come to Troas for the gospel of Christ and a door
was opened unto me in the Lord,
2:13. I had no rest in my spirit, because I found not Titus my brother:
but bidding them farewell, I went into Macedonia.
2:14. Now thanks be to God, who always maketh us to triumph in Christ
Jesus and manifesteth the odour of his knowledge by us in every place.
2:15. For we are the good odour of Christ unto God, in them that are
saved and in them that perish.
2:16. To the one indeed the odour of death unto death:  but to the
others the odour of life unto life.  And for these things who is so
The odour of death, etc. . .The preaching of the apostle, which by its
fragrant odour, brought many to life, was to others, through their own
fault, the occasion of death; by their wilfully opposing and resisting
that divine call.
2:17. For we are not as many, adulterating the word of God:  but with
sincerity:  but as from God, before God, in Christ we speak.
2 Corinthians Chapter 3
He needs no commendatory letters.  The glory of the ministry of the New
3:1. Do we begin again to commend ourselves?  Or do we need (as some do)
epistles of commendation to you, or from you?
3:2. You are our epistle, written in our hearts, which is known and
read by all men:
3:3. Being manifested, that you are the epistle of Christ, ministered
by us, and written:  not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God:
not in tables of stone but in the fleshly tables of the heart.
3:4. And such confidence we have, through Christ, towards God.
3:5. Not that we are sufficient to think any thing of ourselves, as of
ourselves:  but our sufficiency is from God.
3:6. Who also hath made us fit ministers of the new testament, not in
the letter but in the spirit.  For the letter killeth:  but the spirit
The letter. . .Not rightly understood, and taken without the spirit.
3:7. Now if the ministration of death, engraven with letters upon
stones, was glorious (so that the children of Israel could not
steadfastly behold the face of Moses, for the glory of his
countenance), which is made void:
3:8. How shall not the ministration of the spirit be rather in glory?
3:9. For if the ministration of condemnation be glory, much more the
ministration of justice aboundeth in glory.
3:10. For even that which was glorious in this part was not glorified
by reason of the glory that excelleth.
3:11. For if that which is done away was glorious, much more that which
remaineth is in glory.
3:12. Having therefore such hope, we use much confidence.
3:13. And not as Moses put a veil upon his face, that the children of
Israel might not steadfastly look on the face of that which is made
3:14. But their senses were made dull.  For, until this present day, the
selfsame veil, in the reading of the old testament, remaineth not taken
away (because in Christ it is made void).
3:15. But even until this day, when Moses is read, the veil is upon
their heart.
3:16. But when they shall be converted to the Lord, the veil shall be
3:17. Now the Lord is a Spirit.  And where the Spirit of the Lord is,
there is liberty.
3:18. But we all, beholding the glory of the Lord with open face, are
transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit
of the Lord.
2 Corinthians Chapter 4
The sincerity of his preaching.  His comfort in his afflictions.
4:1. Therefore seeing we have this ministration, according as we have
obtained mercy, we faint not.
4:2. But we renounce the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in
craftiness nor adulterating the word of God:  but by manifestation of
the truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience, in the sight
4:3. And if our gospel be also hid, it is hid to them that are lost,
4:4. In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of
unbelievers, that the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who
is the image of God, should not shine unto them.
4:5. For we preach not ourselves, but Jesus Christ our Lord:  and
ourselves your servants through Jesus.
4:6. For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath
shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory
of God, in the face of Christ Jesus.
4:7. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency
may be of the power of God and not of us.
4:8. In all things we suffer tribulation:  but are not distressed.  We
are straitened:  but are not destitute.
4:9. We suffer persecution:  but are not forsaken.  We are cast down:
but we perish not.
4:10. Always bearing about in our body the mortification of Jesus, that
the life also of Jesus may be made manifest in our bodies.
4:11. For we who live are always delivered unto death for Jesus' sake:
that the life also of Jesus may be made manifest in our mortal flesh.
4:12. So then death worketh in us:  but life in you.
4:13. But having the same spirit of faith, as it is written:  I
believed, for which cause I have spoken; we also believe.  For which
cause we speak also:
4:14. Knowing that he who raised up Jesus will raise us up also with
Jesus and place us with you.
4:15. For all things are for your sakes:  that the grace, abounding
through many, may abound in thanksgiving unto the glory of God.
4:16. For which cause we faint not:  but though our outward man is
corrupted, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.
4:17. For that which is at present momentary and light of our
tribulation worketh for us above measure, exceedingly an eternal weight
4:18. While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things
which are not seen.  For the things which are seen are temporal:  but the
things which are not seen, are eternal.
2 Corinthians Chapter 5
He is willing to leave his earthly mansion to be with the Lord.  His
charity to the Corinthians.
5:1. For we know, if our earthly house of this habitation be dissolved,
that we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in
5:2. For in this also we groan, desiring to be clothed upon with our
habitation that is from heaven.
5:3. Yet so that we be found clothed, not naked.
5:4. For we also, who are in this tabernacle, do groan, being
burthened; because we would not be unclothed, but clothed upon, that
that which is mortal may be swallowed up by life.
5:5. Now he that maketh us for this very thing is God, who hath given
us the pledge of the Spirit,
5:6. Therefore having always confidence, knowing that while we are in
the body we are absent from the Lord.
5:7. (For we walk by faith and not by sight.)
5:8. But we are confident and have a good will to be absent rather from
the body and to be present with the Lord.
5:9. And therefore we labour, whether absent or present, to please him.
5:10. For we must all be manifested before the judgment seat of Christ,
that every one may receive the proper things of the body, according as
he hath done, whether it be good or evil.
The proper things of the body. . .In the particular judgment,
immediately after death, the soul is rewarded or punished according to
what it has done in the body.
5:11. Knowing therefore the fear of the Lord, we use persuasion to men:
but to God we are manifest.  And I trust also that in your consciences
we are manifest.
5:12. We commend not ourselves again to you, but give you occasion to
glory in our behalf:  that you may have somewhat to answer them who
glory in face, and not in heart.
5:13. For whether we be transported in mind, it is to God:  or whether
we be sober, it is for you.
5:14. For the charity of Christ presseth us:  judging this, that if one
died for all, then all were dead.
5:15. And Christ died for all:  that they also who live may not now live
to themselves, but unto him who died for them and rose again.
5:16. Wherefore henceforth, we know no man according to the flesh.  And
if we have known Christ according to the flesh:  but now we know him so
We know no man according to the flesh. . .That is, we consider not any
man with regard to his nation, family, kindred, or other natural
qualities or advantages; but only with relation to Christ, and
according to the order of divine charity, in God, and for God.  The
apostle adds, that even with respect to Christ himself, he now no
longer considers him according to the flesh, by taking a satisfaction
in his being his countryman; his affection being now purified from all
such earthly considerations.
5:17. If then any be in Christ a new creature, the old things are
passed away.  Behold all things are made new.
5:18. But all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by
Christ and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation.
5:19. For God indeed was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself,
not imputing to them their sins.  And he hath placed in us the word of
reconciliation.
5:20. For Christ therefore we are ambassadors, God as it were exhorting
by us, for Christ, we beseech you, be reconciled to God.
5:21. Him, who knew no sin, he hath made sin for us:  that we might be
made the justice of God in him.
Sin for us. . .That is, to be a sin offering, a victim for sin.
2 Corinthians Chapter 6
He exhorts them to a correspondence with God's grace and not to
associate with unbelievers.
6:1. And we helping do exhort you that you receive not the grace of God
6:2. For he saith:  In an accepted time have I heard thee and in the day
of salvation have I helped thee.  Behold, now is the acceptable time:
behold, now is the day of salvation.
6:3. Giving no offence to any man, that our ministry be not blamed.
6:4. But in all things let us exhibit ourselves as the ministers of
God, in much patience, in tribulation, in necessities, in distresses,
6:5. In stripes, in prisons, in seditions, in labours, in watchings, in
6:6. In chastity, in knowledge, in longsuffering, in sweetness, in the
Holy Ghost, in charity unfeigned,
6:7. In the word of truth, in the power of God:  by the armour of
justice on the right hand and on the left:
6:8. By honour and dishonour:  by evil report and good report:  as
deceivers and yet true:  as unknown and yet known:
6:9. As dying and behold we live:  as chastised and not killed:
6:10. As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing:  as needy, yet enriching many:
as having nothing and possessing all things.
6:11. Our mouth is open to you, O ye Corinthians:  our heart is
6:12. You are not straitened in us:  but in your own bowels you are
6:13. But having the same recompense (I speak as to my children):  be
you also enlarged.
6:14. Bear not the yoke with unbelievers.  For what participation hath
justice with injustice?  Or what fellowship hath light with darkness?
6:15. And what concord hath Christ with Belial?  Or what part hath the
faithful with the unbeliever?
6:16. And what agreement hath the temple of God with idols?  For you are
the temple of the living God:  as God saith:  I will dwell in them and
walk among them.  And I will be their God:  and they shall be my people.
6:17. Wherefore:  Go out from among them and be ye separate, saith the
Lord, and touch not the unclean thing:
6:18. And I will receive you.  And will be a Father to you:  and you
shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.
2 Corinthians Chapter 7
The apostle's affection for the Corinthians.  His comfort and joy on
their account.
7:1. Having therefore these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse
ourselves from all defilement of the flesh and of the spirit,
perfecting sanctification in the fear of God.
7:2. Receive us.  We have injured no man:  we have corrupted no man:  we
have overreached no man.
7:3. I speak not this to your condemnation.  For we have said before
that you are in our hearts:  to die together and to live together.
7:4. Great is my confidence for you:  great is my glorying for you.  I am
filled with comfort:  I exceedingly abound with joy in all our
tribulation.
7:5. For also, when we were come into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest:
but we suffered all tribulation.  Combats without:  fears within.
7:6. But God, who comforteth the humble, comforted us by the coming of
7:7. And not by his coming only, but also by the consolation wherewith
he was comforted in you, relating to us your desire, your mourning,
your zeal for me:  so that I rejoiced the more.
7:8. For although I made you sorrowful by my epistle, I do not repent.
And if I did repent, seeing that the same epistle (although but for a
time) did make you sorrowful,
7:9. Now I am glad:  not because you were made sorrowful, but because
you were made sorrowful unto penance.  For you were made sorrowful
according to God, that you might suffer damage by us in nothing.
7:10. For the sorrow that is according to God worketh penance,
steadfast unto salvation:  but the sorrow of the world worketh death.
7:11. For behold this selfsame thing, that you were made sorrowful
according to God, how great carefulness it worketh in you:  yea defence,
yea indignation, yea fear, yea desire, yea zeal, yea revenge.  In all
things you have shewed yourselves to be undefiled in the matter.
7:12. Wherefore although I wrote to you, it was not for his sake that
did the wrong, nor for him that suffered it:  but to manifest our
carefulness that we have for you
7:13. Before God:  therefore we were comforted.  But in our consolation
we did the more abundantly rejoice for the joy of Titus, because his
spirit was refreshed by you all.
7:14. And if I have boasted any thing to him of you, I have not been
put to shame:  but as we have spoken all things to you in truth, so also
our boasting that was made to Titus is found a truth.
7:15. And his bowels are more abundantly towards you:  remembering the
obedience of you all, how with fear and trembling you received him.
7:16. I rejoice that in all things I have confidence in you.
2 Corinthians Chapter 8
He exhorts them to contribute bountifully to relieve the poor of
8:1. Now we make known unto you, brethren, the grace of God that hath
been given in the churches of Macedonia.
8:2. That in much experience of tribulation, they have had abundance of
joy and their very deep poverty hath abounded unto the riches of their
Simplicity. . .That is, sincere bounty and charity.
8:3. For according to their power (I bear them witness) and beyond
their power, they were willing:
8:4. With much entreaty begging of us the grace and communication of
the ministry that is done toward the saints.
8:5. And not as we hoped:  but they gave their own selves, first to the
Lord, then to us by the will of God;
8:6. Insomuch, that we desired Titus, that, as he had begun, so also he
would finish among you this same grace.
8:7. That as in all things you abound in faith and word and knowledge
and all carefulness, moreover also in your charity towards us:  so in
this grace also you may abound.
8:8. I speak not as commanding:  but by the carefulness of others,
approving also the good disposition of your charity.
8:9. For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that being rich
he became poor for your sakes:  that through his poverty you might be
8:10. And herein I give my advice:  for this is profitable for you who
have begun not only to do but also to be willing, a year ago.
8:11. Now therefore perform ye it also in deed:  that as your mind is
forward to be willing, so it may be also to perform, out of that which
8:12. For if the will be forward, it is accepted according to that
which a man hath:  not according to that which he hath not.
8:13. For I mean not that others should be eased and you burdened, but
by an equality.
8:14. In this present time let your abundance supply their want, that
their abundance also may supply your want:  that there may be an
8:15. As it is written:  He that had much had nothing over; and he that
had little had no want.
8:16. And thanks be to God, who hath given the same carefulness for you
in the heart of Titus.
8:17. For indeed he accepted the exhortation:  but, being more careful,
of his own will he went unto you.
8:18. We have sent also with him the brother whose praise is in the
gospel through all the churches.
8:19. And not that only:  but he was also ordained by the churches
companion of our travels, for this grace, which is administered by us,
to the glory of the Lord and our determined will:
8:20. Avoiding this, lest any man should blame us in this abundance
which is administered by us.
8:21. For we forecast what may be good, not only before God but also
8:22. And we have sent with them our brother also, whom we have often
proved diligent in many things, but now much more diligent:  with much
confidence in you,
8:23. Either for Titus, who is my companion and fellow labourer towards
you, or our brethren, the apostles of the churches, the glory of
8:24. Wherefore shew ye to them, in the sight of the churches, the
evidence of your charity and of our boasting on your behalf.
2 Corinthians Chapter 9
A further exhortation to almsgiving.  The fruits of it.
9:1. For concerning the ministry that is done towards the saints, it is
superfluous for me to write unto you.
9:2. For I know your forward mind:  for which I boast of you to the
Macedonians, that Achaia also is ready from the year past.  And your
emulation hath provoked very many.
9:3. Now I have sent the brethren, that the thing which we boast of
concerning you be not made void in this behalf, that (as I have said)
you may be ready:
9:4. Lest, when the Macedonians shall come with me and find you
unprepared, we (not to say ye) should be ashamed in this matter.
9:5. Therefore I thought it necessary to desire the brethren that they
would go to you before and prepare this blessing before promised, to be
ready, so as a blessing, not as covetousness.
9:6. Now this I say:  He who soweth sparingly shall also reap sparingly:
and he who soweth in blessings shall also reap blessings.
9:7. Every one as he hath determined in his heart, not with sadness or
of necessity:  for God loveth a cheerful giver.
9:8. And God is able to make all grace abound in you:  that ye always,
having all sufficiently in all things, may abound to every good work,
9:9. As it is written:  He hath dispersed abroad, he hath given to the
poor:  his justice remaineth for ever.
9:10. And he that ministereth seed to the sower will both give you
bread to eat and will multiply your seed and increase the growth of the
fruits of your justice:
9:11. That being enriched in all things, you may abound unto all
simplicity which worketh through us thanksgiving to God.
9:12. Because the administration of this office doth not only supply
the want of the saints, but aboundeth also by many thanksgivings in the
9:13. By the proof of this ministry, glorifying God for the obedience
of your confession unto the gospel of Christ and for the simplicity of
your communicating unto them and unto all.
9:14. And in their praying for you, being desirous of you, because of
the excellent grace of God in you.
9:15. Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift.
2 Corinthians Chapter 10
To stop the calumny and boasting of false apostles, he set forth the
power of his apostleship.
10:1. Now I Paul, myself beseech you, by the mildness and modesty of
Christ:  who in presence indeed am lowly among you, but being absent am
bold toward you.
10:2. But I beseech you, that I may not be bold when I am present with
that confidence wherewith I am thought to be bold, against some who
reckon us as if we walked according to the flesh.
10:3. For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the
10:4. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty to God,
unto the pulling down of fortifications, destroying counsels,
10:5. And every height that exalteth itself against the knowledge of
God:  and bringing into captivity every understanding unto the obedience
10:6. And having in readiness to revenge all disobedience, when your
obedience shall be fulfilled.
10:7. See the things that are according to outward appearance.  If any
man trust to himself, that he is Christ's let him think this again with
himself, that as he is Christ's, so are we also.
10:8. For if also I should boast somewhat more of our power, which the
Lord hath given us unto edification and not for your destruction, I
should not be ashamed.
10:9. But that I may not be thought as it were to terrify you by
10:10. (For his epistles indeed, say they, are weighty and strong; but
his bodily presence is weak and his speech contemptible):
10:11. Let such a one think this, that such as we are in word by
epistles when absent, such also we will be indeed when present.
10:12. For we dare not match or compare ourselves with some that
commend themselves:  but we measure ourselves by ourselves and compare
ourselves with ourselves.
10:13. But we will not glory beyond our measure:  but according to the
measure of the rule which God hath measured to us, a measure to reach
even unto you.
10:14. For we stretch not ourselves beyond our measure, as if we
reached not unto you.  For we are come as far as to you in the Gospel of
10:15. Not glorying beyond measure in other men's labours:  but having
hope of your increasing faith, to be magnified in you according to our
rule abundantly.
10:16. Yea, unto those places that are beyond you to preach the gospel:
not to glory in another man's rule, in those things that are made ready
to our hand.
10:17. But he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.
10:18. For not he who commendeth himself is approved:  but he, whom God
2 Corinthians Chapter 11
He is forced to commend himself and his labours, lest the Corinthians
should be imposed upon by the false apostles.
11:1. Would to God you could bear with some little of my folly!  But do
bear with me.
My folly. . .So he calls his reciting his own praises, which, commonly
speaking is looked upon as a piece of folly and vanity; though the
apostle was constrained to do it, for the good of the souls committed
to his charge.
11:2. For I am jealous of you with the jealousy of God.  For I have
espoused you to one husband, that I may present you as a chaste virgin
11:3. But I fear lest, as the serpent seduced Eve by his subtilty, so
your minds should be corrupted and fall from the simplicity that is in
11:4. For if he that cometh preacheth another Christ, whom we have not
preached; or if you receive another Spirit, whom you have not received;
or another gospel, which you have not received:  you might well bear
11:5. For I suppose that I have done nothing less than the great
11:6. For although I be rude in speech, yet not in knowledge:  but in
all things we have been made manifest to you.
11:7. Or did I commit a fault, humbling myself that you might be
exalted, because I preached unto you the Gospel of God freely?
11:8. I have taken from other churches, receiving wages of them for
your ministry.
11:9. And, when I was present with you and wanted, I was chargeable to
no man:  for that which was wanting to me, the brethren supplied who
came from Macedonia.  And in all things I have kept myself from being
burthensome to you:  and so I will keep myself.
11:10. The truth of Christ is in me, that this glorying shall not be
broken off in me in the regions of Achaia.
11:11. Wherefore?  Because I love you not?  God knoweth it.
11:12. But what I do, that I will do:  that I may cut off the occasion
from them that desire occasion:  that wherein they glory, they may be
found even as we.
11:13. For such false apostles are deceitful workmen, transforming
themselves into the apostles of Christ.
11:14. And no wonder:  for Satan himself transformeth himself into an
angel of light.
11:15. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers be transformed
as the ministers of justice, whose end shall be according to their
11:16. I say again (Let no man think me to be foolish:  otherwise take
me as one foolish, that I also may glory a little):
11:17. That which I speak, I speak not according to God:  but as it were
in foolishness, in this matter of glorying.
11:18. Seeing that many glory according to the flesh, I will glory
11:19. For you gladly suffer the foolish:  whereas yourselves are wise.
11:20. For you suffer if a man bring you into bondage, if a man devour
you, if a man take from you, if a man be lifted up, if a man strike you
on the face.
11:21. I seek according to dishonour, as if we had been weak in this
part.  Wherein if any man dare (I speak foolishly), I dare also.
11:22. They are Hebrews:  so am I.  They are Israelites:  so am I.  They
are the seed of Abraham:  so am I.
11:23. They are the ministers of Christ (I speak as one less wise):  I
am more; in many more labours, in prisons more frequently, in stripes
above measure, in deaths often.
11:24. Of the Jews five times did I receive forty stripes save one.
11:25. Thrice was I beaten with rods:  once I was stoned:  thrice I
suffered shipwreck:  a night and a day I was in the depth of the sea.
11:26. In journeying often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers,
in perils from my own nation, in perils from the Gentiles, in perils in
the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils
from false brethren:
11:27. In labour and painfulness, in much watchings, in hunger and
thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness:
11:28. Besides those things which are without:  my daily instance, the
solicitude for all the churches.
My daily instance. . .The labours that come in, and press upon me every
11:29. Who is weak, and I am not weak?  Who is scandalized, and I am not
11:30. If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things that concern
my infirmity.
11:31. The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is blessed for
ever, knoweth that I lie not.
11:32. At Damascus, the governor of the nation under Aretas the king,
guarded the city of the Damascenes, to apprehend me.
11:33. And through a window in a basket was I let down by the wall:  and
so escaped his hands.
2 Corinthians Chapter 12
His raptures and revelations, His being buffeted by Satan.  His fear for
the Corinthians.
12:1. If I must glory (it is not expedient indeed) but I will come to
visions and revelations of the Lord.
12:2. I know a man in Christ:  above fourteen years ago (whether in the
body, I know not, or out of the body, I know not:  God knoweth), such a
one caught up to the third heaven.
12:3. And I know such a man (whether in the body, or out of the body, I
know not:  God knoweth):
12:4. That he was caught up into paradise and heard secret words which
it is not granted to man to utter.
12:5. For such an one I will glory:  but for myself I will glory nothing
but in my infirmities.
12:6. For though I should have a mind to glory, I shall not be foolish:
for I will say the truth.  But I forbear, lest any man should think of
me above that which he seeth in me, or any thing he heareth from me.
12:7. And lest the greatness of the revelations should exalt me, there
was given me a sting of my flesh, an angel of Satan, to buffet me.
12:8. For which thing, thrice I besought the Lord that it might depart
12:9. And he said to me:  My grace is sufficient for thee:  for power is
made perfect in infirmity.  Gladly therefore will I glory in my
infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
Power is made perfect. . .The strength and power of God more perfectly
shines forth in our weakness and infirmity; as the more weak we are of
ourselves, the more illustrious is his grace in supporting us, and
giving us the victory under all trials and conflicts.
12:10. For which cause I please myself in my infirmities, in
reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ.
For when I am weak, then am I powerful.
12:11. I am become foolish.  You have compelled me:  for I ought to have
been commended by you.  For I have no way come short of them that are
above measure apostles, although I be nothing.
12:12. Yet the signs of my apostleship have been wrought on you, in all
patience, in signs and wonders and mighty deeds.
12:13. For what is there that you have had less than the other churches
but that I myself was not burthensome to you?  Pardon me this injury.
12:14. Behold now the third time I am ready to come to you and I will
not be burthensome unto you.  For I seek not the things that are yours,
but you.  For neither ought the children to lay up for the parents, but
the parents for the children.
12:15. But I most gladly will spend and be spent myself for your souls:
although loving you more, I be loved less.
12:16. But be it so:  I did not burthen you:  but being crafty, I caught
you by guile.
12:17. Did I overreach you by any of them whom I sent to you?
12:18. I desired Titus:  and I sent with him a brother.  Did Titus
overreach you?  Did we not walk with the same spirit?  Did we not in the
12:19. Of old, think you that we excuse ourselves to you?  We speak
before God in Christ:  but all things, my dearly beloved, for your
edification.
12:20. For I fear lest perhaps, when I come, I shall not find you such
as I would, and that I shall be found by you such as you would not.
Lest perhaps contentions, envyings, animosities, dissensions,
detractions, whisperings, swellings, seditions, be among you.
12:21. Lest again, when I come, God humble me among you:  and I mourn
many of them that sinned before and have not done penance for the
uncleanness and fornication and lasciviousness that they have
2 Corinthians Chapter 13
He threatens the impenitent, to provoke them to penance.
13:1. Behold, this is the third time I am coming to you:  In the mouth
of two or three witnesses shall every word stand.
13:2. I have told before and foretell, as present and now absent, to
them that sinned before and to all the rest, that if I come again, I
will not spare.
13:3. Do you seek a proof of Christ that speaketh in me, who towards
you is not weak, but is mighty in you?
13:4. For although he was crucified through weakness, yet he liveth by
the power of God.  For we also are weak in him:  but we shall live with
him by the power of God towards you.
13:5. Try your own selves if you be in the faith:  prove ye yourselves.
Know you not your own selves, that Christ Jesus is in you, unless
perhaps you be reprobates?
13:6. But I trust that you shall know that we are not reprobates.
13:7. Now we pray God that you may do no evil, not that we may appear
approved, but that you may do that which is good and that we may be as
Reprobates. . .that is, without proof, by having no occasion of shewing
our power in punishing you.
13:8. For we can do nothing against the truth:  but for the truth.
13:9. For we rejoice that we are weak and you are strong.  This also we
pray for, your perfection.
13:10. Therefore I write these things, being absent, that, being
present, I may not deal more severely, according to the power which the
Lord hath given me unto edification and not unto destruction.
13:11. For the rest, brethren, rejoice, be perfect, take exhortation,
be of one mind, have peace.  And the God of grace and of love shall be
13:12. Salute one another with a holy kiss.  All the saints salute you.
13:13. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the charity of God and
the communication of the Holy Ghost be with you all.  Amen.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE GALATIANS
The Galatians, soon after St. Paul had preached the Gospel to them,
were seduced by some false teachers, who had been Jews and who were for
obliging all Christians, even those who had been Gentiles, to observe
circumcision and the other ceremonies of the Mosaical law.  In this
Epistle, he refutes the pernicious doctrine of those teachers and also
their calumny against his mission and apostleship.  The subject matter
of this Epistle is much the same as that to the Romans.  It was written
at Ephesus, about twenty-three years after our Lord's Ascension.
Galatians Chapter 1
He blames the Galatians for suffering themselves to be imposed upon by
new teachers.  The apostle's calling.
1:1. Paul, an apostle, not of men, neither by man, but by Jesus Christ
and God the Father, who raised him from the dead:
1:2. And all the brethren who are with me:  to the churches of Galatia.
1:3. Grace be to you, and peace from God the Father and from our Lord
Jesus Christ,
1:4. Who gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from this
present wicked world, according to the will of God and our Father:
1:5. To whom is glory for ever and ever.  Amen.
1:6. I wonder that you are so soon removed from him that called you
into the grace of Christ, unto another gospel.
1:7. Which is not another:  only there are some that trouble you and
would pervert the gospel of Christ.
1:8. But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach a gospel to you
besides that which we have preached to you, let him be anathema.
1:9. As we said before, so now I say again:  If any one preach to you a
gospel, besides that which you have received, let him be anathema.
1:10. For do I now persuade men, or God?  Or do I seek to please men?  If
I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ.
1:11. For I give you to understand, brethren, that the gospel which was
preached by me is not according to man.
1:12. For neither did I receive it of man:  nor did I learn it but by
the revelation of Jesus Christ.
1:13. For you have heard of my conversation in time past in the Jews'
religion:  how that, beyond measure, I persecuted the church of God and
1:14. And I made progress in the Jew's religion above many of my equals
in my own nation, being more abundantly zealous for the traditions of
1:15. But when it pleased him who separated me from my mother's womb
and called me by his grace,
1:16. To reveal his Son in me, that I might preach him among the
Gentiles:  immediately I condescended not to flesh and blood.
1:17. Neither went I to Jerusalem, to the apostles who were before me:
but I went into Arabia, and again I returned to Damascus.
1:18. Then, after three years, I went to Jerusalem to see Peter:  and I
tarried with him fifteen days.
1:19. But other of the apostles I saw none, saving James the brother of
1:20. Now the things which I write to you, behold, before God, I lie
1:21. Afterwards, I came into the regions of Syria and Cilicia.
1:22. And I was unknown by face to the churches of Judea, which were in
1:23. But they had heard only:  He, who persecuted us in times past doth
now preach the faith which once he impugned.
1:24. And they glorified God in me.
Galatians Chapter 2
The apostle's preaching was approved of by the other apostles.  The
Gentiles were not to be constrained to the observance of the law.
2:1. Then, after fourteen years, I went up again to Jerusalem with
Barnabas, taking Titus also with me.
2:2. And I went up according to revelation and communicated to them the
gospel which I preach among the Gentiles:  but apart to them who seemed
to be some thing:  lest perhaps I should run or had run in vain.
2:3. But neither Titus, who was with me, being a Gentile, was compelled
to be circumcised.
2:4. But because of false brethren unawares brought in, who came in
privately to spy our liberty which we have in Christ Jesus, that they
might bring us into servitude.
2:5. To whom we yielded not by subjection:  no, not for an hour:  that
the truth of the gospel might continue with you.
2:6. But of them who seemed to be some thing, (what they were some time
it is nothing to me, God accepteth not the person of man):  for to me
they that seemed to be some thing added nothing.
2:7. But contrariwise, when they had seen that to me was committed the
gospel of the uncircumcision, as to Peter was that of the circumcision.
The gospel of the uncircumcision. . .The preaching of the gospel to the
uncircumcised, that is, to the Gentiles.  St. Paul was called in an
extraordinary manner to be the apostle of the Gentiles; St. Peter,
besides his general commission over the whole flock, (John 21. 15,
etc.,) had a peculiar charge of the people of the circumcision, that
is, of the Jews.
2:8. (For he who wrought in Peter to the apostleship of the
circumcision wrought in me also among the Gentiles.)
2:9. And when they had known the grace that was given to me, James and
Cephas and John, who seemed to be pillars, gave to me and Barnabas the
right hands of fellowship:  that we should go unto the Gentiles, and
they unto the circumcision:
2:10. Only that we should be mindful of the poor:  which same thing also
I was careful to do.
2:11. But when Cephas was come to Antioch, I withstood him to the face,
because he was to be blamed.
I withstood, etc. . .The fault that is here noted in the conduct of St.
Peter, was only a certain imprudence, in withdrawing himself from the
table of the Gentiles, for fear of giving offence to the Jewish
converts; but this, in such circumstances, when his so doing might be
of ill consequence to the Gentiles, who might be induced thereby to
think themselves obliged to conform to the Jewish way of living, to the
prejudice of their Christian liberty.  Neither was St. Paul's
reprehending him any argument against his supremacy; for in such cases
an inferior may, and sometimes ought, with respect, to admonish his
2:12. For before that some came from James, he did eat with the
Gentiles:  but when they were come, he withdrew and separated himself,
fearing them who were of the circumcision.
2:13. And to his dissimulation the rest of the Jews consented:  so that
Barnabas also was led by them into that dissimulation.
2:14. But when I saw that they walked not uprightly unto the truth of
the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all:  If thou, being a Jew,
livest after the manner of the Gentiles and not as the Jews do, how
dost thou compel the Gentiles to live as do the Jews?
2:15. We by nature are Jews:  and not of the Gentiles, sinners.
2:16. But knowing that man is not justified by the works of the law,
but by the faith of Jesus Christ, we also believe in Christ Jesus, that
we may be justified by the faith of Christ and not by the works of the
law:  because by the works of the law no flesh shall be justified.
2:17. But if, while we seek to be justified in Christ, we ourselves
also are found sinners, is Christ then the minister of sin?  God forbid!
2:18. For if I build up again the things which I have destroyed, I make
myself a prevaricator.
2:19. For I, through the law, am dead to the law, that I may live to
God; with Christ I am nailed to the cross.
2:20. And I live, now not I:  but Christ liveth in me.  And that I live
now in the flesh:  I live in the faith of the Son of God, who loved me
and delivered himself for me.
2:21. I cast not away the grace of God.  For if justice be by the law,
then Christ died in vain.
Galatians Chapter 3
The Spirit, and the blessing promised to Abraham cometh not by the law,
but by faith.
3:1. O senseless Galatians, who hath bewitched you that you should not
obey the truth:  before whose eyes Jesus Christ hath been set forth,
crucified among you?
3:2. This only would I learn of you:  Did you receive the Spirit by the
works of the law or by the hearing of faith?
3:3. Are you so foolish that, whereas you began in the Spirit, you
would now be made perfect by the flesh?
3:4. Have you suffered so great things in vain?  If it be yet in vain.
3:5. He therefore who giveth to you the Spirit and worketh miracles
among you:  doth he do it by the works of the law or by the hearing of
3:6. As it is written:  Abraham believed God:  and it was reputed to him
unto justice.
3:7. Know ye, therefore, that they who are of faith, the same are the
children of Abraham.
3:8. And the scripture, foreseeing that God justifieth the Gentiles by
faith, told unto Abraham before:  In thee shall all nations be blessed.
3:9. Therefore, they that are of faith shall be blessed with faithful
3:10. For as many as are of the works of the law are under a curse.  For
it is written:  Cursed is every one that abideth, not in all things
which are written in the book of the law to do them.
3:11. But that in the law no man is justified with God, it is manifest:
because the just man liveth by faith.
3:12. But the law is not of faith:  but he that doth those things shall
live in them.
3:13. Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a
curse for us (for it is written:  Cursed is every one that hangeth on a
3:14. That the blessing of Abraham might come on the Gentiles through
Christ Jesus:  that we may receive the promise of the Spirit by faith.
3:15. Brethren (I speak after the manner of man), yet a man's
testament, if it be confirmed, no man despiseth nor addeth to it.
3:16. To Abraham were the promises made and to his seed.  He saith not:
And to his seeds as of many.  But as of one:  And to thy seed, which is
3:17. Now this I say:  that the testament which was confirmed by God,
the law which was made after four hundred and thirty years doth not
disannul, to make the promise of no effect.
3:18. For if the inheritance be of the law, it is no more of promise.
But God gave it to Abraham by promise.
3:19. Why then was the law?  It was set because of transgressions, until
the seed should come to whom he made the promise, being ordained by
angels in the hand of a mediator.
Because of transgressions. . .To restrain them from sin, by fear and
threats.  Ordained by angels. . .The law was delivered by angels,
speaking in the name and person of God to Moses, who was the mediator,
on this occasion, between God and the people.
3:20. Now a mediator is not of one:  but God is one.
3:21. Was the law then against the promises of God:  God forbid!  For if
there had been a law given which could give life, verily justice should
have been by the law.
3:22. But the scripture hath concluded all under sin, that the promise,
by the faith of Jesus Christ, might be given to them that believe.
Hath concluded all under sin. . .that is, hath declared all to be under
sin, from which they could not be delivered but by faith in Jesus
Christ, the promised seed.
3:23. But before the faith came, we were kept under the law shut up,
unto that faith which was to be revealed.
3:24. Wherefore the law was our pedagogue in Christ:  that we might be
justified by faith.
Pedagogue. . .That is, schoolmaster, conductor, or instructor.
3:25. But after the faith is come, we are no longer under a pedagogue.
3:26. For you are all the children of God, by faith in Christ Jesus.
3:27. For as many of you as have been baptized in Christ have put on
3:28. There is neither Jew nor Greek:  there is neither bond nor free:
there is neither male nor female.  For you are all one in Christ Jesus.
Neither Jew, etc. . .That is, no distinction of Jew, etc.
3:29. And if you be Christ's, then are you the seed of Abraham, heirs
according to the promise.
Galatians Chapter 4
Christ has freed us from the servitude of the law.  We are the freeborn
sons of Abraham.
4:1. As long as the heir is a child, he differeth nothing from a
servant, though he be lord of all,
4:2. But is under tutors and governors until the time appointed by the
4:3. So we also, when we were children, were serving under the elements
of the world.
Under the elements, etc. . .That is, under the first rudiments of
religion, in which the carnal Jews were trained up; or under those
corporeal creatures, used in their manifold rites, sacrifices, and
4:4. But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent his Son, made
of a woman, made under the law:
4:5. That he might redeem them who were under the law:  that we might
receive the adoption of sons.
4:6. And because you are sons, God hath sent the Spirit of his Son into
your hearts, crying:  Abba, Father.
4:7. Therefore, now he is not a servant, but a son.  And if a son, an
heir also through God.
4:8. But then indeed, not knowing God, you served them who, by nature,
are not gods.
4:9. But now, after that you have known God, or rather are known by
God:  how turn you again to the weak and needy elements which you desire
to serve again?
4:10. You observe days and months and times, and years.
You observe days, etc. . .He speaks not of the observation of the Lord's
day, or other Christian festivals; but either of the superstitious
observation of days lucky and unlucky; or else of the Jewish festivals,
to the observance of which, certain Jewish teachers sought to induce
the Galatians.
4:11. I am afraid of you, lest perhaps I have laboured in vain among
4:12. Be ye as I, because I also am as you brethren, I beseech you.  You
have not injured me at all.
4:13. And you know how, through infirmity of the flesh, I preached the
gospel to you heretofore:  and your temptation in my flesh
4:14. You despised not, nor rejected:  but received me as an angel of
God, even as Christ Jesus.
4:15. Where is then your blessedness?  For I bear you witness that, if
it could be done, you would have plucked out your own eyes and would
have given them to me.
4:16. Am I then become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?
4:17. They are zealous in your regard not well:  but they would exclude
you, that you might be zealous for them.
4:18. But be zealous for that which is good in a good thing always:  and
not only when I am present with you.
4:19. My little children, of whom I am in labour again, until Christ be
formed in you.
4:20. And I would willingly be present with you now and change my
voice:  because I am ashamed for you.
4:21. Tell me, you that desire to be under the law, have you not read
4:22. For it is written that Abraham had two sons:  the one by a
bondwoman and the other by a free woman.
4:23. But he who was of the bondwoman was born according to the flesh:
but he of the free woman was by promise.
4:24. Which things are said by an allegory.  For these are the two
testaments.  The one from Mount Sina, engendering unto bondage, which is
4:25. For Sina is a mountain in Arabia, which hath affinity to that
Jerusalem which now is:  and is in bondage with her children.
4:26. But that Jerusalem which is above is free:  which is our mother.
4:27. For it is written:  Rejoice, thou barren, that bearest not:  break
forth and cry thou that travailest not:  for many are the children of
the desolate, more than of her that hath a husband.
4:28. Now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are the children of promise.
4:29. But as then he that was born according to the flesh persecuted
him that was after the spirit:  so also it is now.
4:30. But what saith the scripture?  Cast out the bondwoman and her son:
for the son of the bondwoman shall not be heir with the son of the free
4:31. So then, brethren, we are not the children of the bondwoman but
of the free:  by the freedom wherewith Christ has made us free.
Galatians Chapter 5
He exhorts them to stand to their Christian liberty.  Of the fruits of
the flesh and of the spirit.
5:1. Stand fast and be not held again under the yoke of bondage.
5:2. Behold, I Paul tell you, that if you be circumcised, Christ shall
profit you nothing.
5:3. And I testify again to every man circumcising himself that he is a
debtor to do the whole law.
5:4. You are made void of Christ, you who are justified in the law:  you
are fallen from grace.
5:5. For we in spirit, by faith, wait for the hope of justice.
5:6. For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth any thing nor
uncircumcision:  but faith that worketh by Charity.
5:7. You did run well.  What hath hindered you, that you should not obey
5:8. This persuasion is not from him that calleth you.
5:9. A little leaven corrupteth the whole lump.
5:10. I have confidence in you in the Lord that you will not be of
another mind:  but he that troubleth you shall bear the judgment,
whosoever he be.
5:11. And I, brethren, if I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet
suffer persecution?  Then is the scandal of the cross made void.
5:12. I would they were even cut off, who trouble you.
5:13. For you, brethren, have been called unto liberty.  Only make not
liberty an occasion to the flesh:  but by charity of the spirit serve
one another.
5:14. For all the law is fulfilled in one word:  Thou shalt love thy
neighbour as thyself.
5:15. But if you bite and devour one another:  take heed you be not
consumed one of another.
5:16. I say then:  Walk in the spirit:  and you shall not fulfill the
lusts of the flesh.
5:17. For the flesh lusteth against the spirit:  and the spirit against
the flesh:  For these are contrary one to another:  so that you do not
the things that you would.
5:18. But if you are led by the spirit, you are not under the law.
5:19. Now the works of the flesh are manifest:  which are fornication,
uncleanness, immodesty, luxury,
5:20. Idolatry, witchcrafts, enmities, contentions, emulations, wraths,
quarrels, dissensions, sects,
5:21. Envies, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like.  Of the
which I foretell you, as I have foretold to you, that they who do such
things shall not obtain the kingdom of God.
5:22. But the fruit of the Spirit is, charity, joy, peace, patience,
benignity, goodness, longanimity,
5:23. Mildness, faith, modesty, continency, chastity.  Against such
there is no law.
5:24. And they that are Christ's have crucified their flesh, with the
vices and concupiscences.
5:25. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.
5:26. Let us not be made desirous of vain glory, provoking one another,
envying one another.
Galatians Chapter 6
He exhorts to charity, humility and all virtue.  He glories in nothing
but in the cross of Christ.
6:1. Brethren, and if a man be overtaken in any fault, you, who are
spiritual, instruct such a one in the spirit of meekness, considering
thyself, lest thou also be tempted.
6:2. Bear ye one another's burdens:  and so you shall fulfil the law of
6:3. For if any man think himself to be some thing, whereas he is
nothing, he deceiveth himself.
6:4. But let every one prove his own work:  and so he shall have glory
in himself only and not in another.
6:5. For every one shall bear his own burden.
6:6. And let him that is instructed in the word communicate to him that
instructeth him, in all good things.
6:7. Be not deceived:  God is not mocked.
6:8. For what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap.  For he
that soweth in his flesh of the flesh also shall reap corruption.  But
he that soweth in the spirit of the spirit shall reap life everlasting.
6:9. And in doing good, let us not fail.  For in due time we shall reap,
not failing.
6:10. Therefore, whilst we have time, let us work good to all men, but
especially to those who are of the household of the faith.
6:11. See what a letter I have written to you with my own hand.
6:12. For as many as desire to please in the flesh, they constrain you
to be circumcised, only that they may not suffer the persecution of the
cross of Christ.
6:13. For neither they themselves who are circumcised keep the law:  but
they will have you to be circumcised, that they may glory in your
6:14. But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ:  by whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world.
6:15. For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor
uncircumcision:  but a new creature.
6:16. And whosoever shall follow this rule, peace on them and mercy:
and upon the Israel of God.
6:17. From henceforth let no man be troublesome to me:  for I bear the
marks of the Lord Jesus in my body.
6:18. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brethren.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE EPHESIANS
Ephesus was the capital of Lesser Asia, and celebrated for the temple
of Diana, to which the most part of the people of the East went
frequently to worship.  But St. Paul having preached the Gospel there,
for two years the first time and afterwards for about a year, converted
many.  He wrote this Epistle to them when he was a prisoner in Rome; and
sent it by Tychicus.  He admonishes them to hold firmly the faith which
they had received and warns them, and also those of the neighbouring
cities, against the sophistry of philosophers and doctrine of false
teachers who were come among them.  The matters of faith contained in
this Epistle are exceedingly sublime, and consequently very difficult
to be understood.  It was written about twenty-nine years after our
Lord's Ascension.
Ephesians Chapter 1
The great blessings we have received through Christ.  He is the head of
all the church.
1:1. Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, by the will of God, to all the
saints who are at Ephesus and to the faithful in Christ Jesus.
1:2. Grace be to you and peace, from God the Father and from the Lord
Jesus Christ.
1:3. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath
blessed us with spiritual blessings in heavenly places, in Christ:
In heavenly places. . .or, in heavenly things.  In coelestibus.
1:4. As he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we
should be holy and unspotted in his sight in charity.
1:5. Who hath predestinated us unto the adoption of children through
Jesus Christ unto himself:  according to the purpose of his will:
1:6. Unto the praise of the glory of his grace, in which he hath graced
us, in his beloved son.
1:7. In whom we have redemption through his blood, the remission of
sins, according to the riches of his, grace,
1:8. Which hath superabounded in us, in all wisdom and prudence,
1:9. That he might make known unto us the mystery of his will,
according to his good pleasure, which he hath purposed in him,
1:10. In the dispensation of the fulness of times, to re-establish all
things in Christ, that are in heaven and on earth, in him.
1:11. In whom we also are called by lot, being predestinated according
to the purpose of him who worketh all things according to the counsel
of his will.
1:12. That we may be unto the praise of his glory:  we who before hoped
1:13. In whom you also, after you had heard the word of truth (the
gospel of your salvation), in whom also believing, you were signed with
the holy Spirit of promise.
1:14. Who is the pledge of our inheritance, unto the redemption of
acquisition, unto the praise of his glory.
Acquisition. . .that is, a purchased possession.
1:15. Wherefore, I also, hearing of your faith that is in the Lord
Jesus and of your love towards all the saints,
1:16. Cease not to give thanks for you, making commemoration of you in
1:17. That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may
give unto you the spirit of wisdom and of revelation, in the knowledge
1:18. The eyes of your heart enlightened that you may know what the
hope is of his calling and what are the riches of the glory of his
inheritance in the saints.
1:19. And what is the exceeding greatness of his power towards us, who
believe according to the operation of the might of his power,
1:20. Which he wrought in Christ, raising him up from the dead and
setting him on his right hand in the heavenly places.
1:21. Above all principality and power and virtue and dominion and
every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that
which is to come.
1:22. And he hath subjected all things under his feet and hath made him
head over all the church,
1:23. Which is his body and the fulness of him who is filled all in
Ephesians Chapter 2
All our good comes through Christ.  He is our peace.
2:1. And you, when you were dead in your offences and sins,
2:2. Wherein in time past you walked according to the course of this
world, according to the prince of the power of this air, of the spirit
that now worketh on the children of unbelief:
2:3. In which also we all conversed in time past, in the desires of our
flesh, fulfilling the will of the flesh and of our thoughts, and were
by nature children of wrath, even as the rest:
2:4. But God (who is rich in mercy) for his exceeding charity wherewith
2:5. Even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together in
Christ (by whose grace you are saved)
2:6. And hath raised us up together and hath made us sit together in
the heavenly places, through Christ Jesus.
2:7. That he might shew in the ages to come the abundant riches of his
grace, in his bounty towards us in Christ Jesus.
2:8. For by grace you are saved through faith:  and that not of
yourselves, for it is the gift of God.
2:9. Not of works, that no man may glory.
Not of works. . .as of our own growth, or from ourselves; but as from
the grace of God.
2:10. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus in good
works, which God hath prepared that we should walk in them.
2:11. For which cause be mindful that you, being heretofore gentiles is
the flesh, who are called uncircumcision by that which is called
circumcision in the flesh, made by hands:
2:12. That you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the
conversation of Israel and strangers to the testament, having no hope
of the promise and without God in this world.
2:13. But now in Christ Jesus, you, who some time were afar off, are
made nigh by the blood of Christ.
2:14. For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and breaking down
the middle wall of partition, the enmities in his flesh:
2:15. Making void the law of commandments contained in decrees:  that he
might make the two in himself into one new man, making peace
2:16. And might reconcile both to God in one body by the cross, killing
the enmities in himself.
2:17. And coming, he preached peace to you that were afar off:  and
peace to them that were nigh.
2:18. For by him we have access both in one Spirit to the Father.
2:19. Now therefore you are no more strangers and foreigners:  but you
are fellow citizens with the saints and the domestics of God,
2:20. Built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus
Christ himself being the chief corner stone:
2:21. In whom all the building, being framed together, groweth up into
an holy temple in the Lord.
2:22. In whom you also are built together into an habitation of God in
Ephesians Chapter 3
The mystery hidden from former ages was discovered to the apostle, to
be imparted to the Gentiles.  He prays that they may be strengthened in
3:1. For this cause, I Paul, the prisoner of Jesus Christ, for you
3:2. If yet you have heard of the dispensation of the grace of God
which is given me towards you:
3:3. How that, according to revelation, the mystery has been made known
to me, as I have written above in a few words:
3:4. As you reading, may understand my knowledge in the mystery of
3:5. Which in other generations was not known to the sons of men, as it
is now revealed to his holy apostles and prophets in the Spirit:
3:6. That the Gentiles should be fellow heirs and of the same body:  and
copartners of his promise in Christ Jesus, by the gospel
3:7. Of which I am made a minister, according to the gift of the grace
of God, which is given to me according to the operation of his power.
3:8. To me, the least of all the saints, is given this grace, to preach
among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ:
3:9. And to enlighten all men, that they may see what is the
dispensation of the mystery which hath been hidden from eternity in God
who created all things:
3:10. That the manifold wisdom of God may be made known to the
principalities and powers in heavenly places through the church,
3:11. According to the eternal purpose which he made in Christ Jesus
3:12. In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith
3:13. Wherefore I pray you not to faint at my tribulations for you,
which is your glory.
3:14. For this cause I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus
3:15. Of whom all paternity in heaven and earth is named:
All paternity. . .Or, the whole family.  God is the Father, both of
angels and men; whosoever besides is named father, is so named with
subordination to him.
3:16. That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to
be strengthened by his Spirit with might unto the inward man:
3:17. That Christ may dwell by faith in your hearts:  that, being rooted
and founded in charity,
3:18. You may be able to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the
breadth and length and height and depth,
3:19. To know also the charity of Christ, which surpasseth all
knowledge:  that you may be filled unto all the fulness of God.
3:20. Now to him who is able to do all things more abundantly than we
desire or understand, according to the power that worketh in us:
3:21. To him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, unto all
generations, world without end.  Amen.
Ephesians Chapter 4
He exhorts them to unity, to put on the new man, and to fly sin.
4:1. I therefore, a prisoner in the Lord, beseech you that you walk
worthy of the vocation in which you are called:
4:2. With all humility and mildness, with patience, supporting one
another in charity.
4:3. Careful to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
4:4. One body and one Spirit:  as you are called in one hope of your
4:5. One Lord, one faith, one baptism.
4:6. One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and
4:7. But to every one of us is given grace, according to the measure of
the giving of Christ.
4:8. Wherefore he saith:  Ascending on high, he led captivity captive:
he gave gifts to men.
4:9. Now that he ascended, what is it, but because he also descended
first into the lower parts of the earth?
4:10. He that descended is the same also that ascended above all the
heavens:  that he might fill all things.
4:11. And he gave some apostles, and some prophets, and other some
evangelists, and other some pastors and doctors:
Gave some apostles--Until we all meet, etc. . .Here it is plainly
expressed, that Christ has left in his church a perpetual succession of
orthodox pastors and teachers, to preserve the faithful in unity and
4:12. For the perfecting of the saints, for the word of the ministry,
for the edifying of the body of Christ:
4:13. Until we all meet into the unity of faith and of the knowledge of
the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the age of the
fulness of Christ:
4:14. That henceforth we be no more children tossed to and fro and
carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the wickedness of men, by
cunning craftiness by which they lie in wait to deceive.
4:15. But doing the truth in charity, we may in all things grow up in
him who is the head, even Christ:
4:16. From whom the whole body, being compacted and fitly joined
together, by what every joint supplieth, according to the operation in
the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body, unto the
edifying of itself in charity.
4:17. This then I say and testify in the Lord:  That henceforward you
walk not as also the Gentiles walk in the vanity of their mind:
4:18. Having their understanding darkened:  being alienated from the
life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the
blindness of their hearts.
4:19. Who despairing have given themselves up to lasciviousness, unto
the working of all uncleanness, unto covetousness.
4:20. But you have not so learned Christ:
4:21. If so be that you have heard him and have been taught in him, as
the truth is in Jesus:
4:22. To put off, according to former conversation, the old man, who is
corrupted according to the desire of error.
4:23. And be renewed in spirit of your mind:
4:24. And put on the new man, who according to God is created in
justice and holiness of truth.
4:25. Wherefore, putting away lying, speak ye the truth, every man with
his neighbour.  For we are members one of another.
4:26. Be angry:  and sin not.  Let not the sun go down upon your anger.
4:27. Give not place to the devil.
4:28. He that stole, let him now steal no more:  but rather let him
labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may
have something to give to him that suffereth need.
4:29. Let no evil speech proceed from your mouth:  but that which is
good, to the edification of faith:  that it may administer grace to the
4:30. And grieve not the holy Spirit of God:  whereby you are sealed
unto the day of redemption.
4:31. Let all bitterness and anger and indignation and clamour and
blasphemy be put away from you, with all malice.
4:32. And be ye kind one to another:  merciful, forgiving one another,
even as God hath forgiven you in Christ.
Ephesians Chapter 5
Exhortations to a virtuous life.  The mutual duties of man and wife, by
the example of Christ and of the Church.
5:1. Be ye therefore followers of God, as most dear children:
5:2. And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us and hath delivered
himself for us, an oblation and a sacrifice to God for an odour of
5:3. But fornication and all uncleanness or covetousness, let it not so
much as be named among you, as becometh saints:
5:4. Or obscenity or foolish talking or scurrility, which is to no
purpose:  but rather giving of thanks.
5:5. For know you this and understand:  That no fornicator or unclean or
covetous person (which is a serving of idols) hath inheritance in the
kingdom of Christ and of God.
5:6. Let no man deceive you with vain words.  For because of these
things cometh the anger of God upon the children of unbelief.
5:7. Be ye not therefore partakers with them.
5:8. For you were heretofore darkness, but now light in the Lord.  Walk
then as children of the light.
5:9. For the fruit of the light is in all goodness and justice and
5:10. Proving what is well pleasing to God.
5:11. And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness:  but
rather reprove them.
5:12. For the things that are done by them in secret, it is a shame
even to speak of.
5:13. But all things that are reproved are made manifest by the light:
for all that is made manifest is light.
5:14. Wherefore he saith:  Rise, thou that sleepest, and arise from the
dead:  and Christ shall enlighten thee.
5:15. See therefore, brethren, how you walk circumspectly:  not as
5:16. But as wise:  redeeming the time, because the days are evil.
5:17. Wherefore, become not unwise:  but understanding what is the will
5:18. And be not drunk with wine, wherein is luxury:  but be ye filled
with the Holy Spirit,
5:19. Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual
canticles, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord:
5:20. Giving thanks always for all things, in the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ, to God and the Father:
5:21. Being subject one to another, in the fear of Christ.
5:22. Let women be subject to their husbands, as to the Lord:
5:23. Because the husband is the head of the wife, as Christ is the
head of the church.  He is the saviour of his body.
5:24. Therefore as the church is subject to Christ:  so also let the
wives be to their husbands in all things.
As the church is subject to Christ. . .The church then, according to St.
Paul, is ever obedient to Christ, and can never fall from him, but
remain faithful to him, unspotted and unchanged to the end of the
5:25. Husbands, love your wives, as Christ also loved the church and
delivered himself up for it:
5:26. That he might sanctify it, cleansing it by the laver of water in
the word of life:
5:27. That he might present it to himself, a glorious church, not
having spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that it should be holy
and without blemish.
5:28. So also ought men to love their wives as their own bodies.  He
that loveth his wife loveth himself.
5:29. For no man ever hated his own flesh, but nourisheth and
cherisheth it, as also Christ doth the church:
5:30. Because we are members of him, body, of his flesh and of his
5:31. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother:  and shall
cleave to his wife.  And they shall be two in one flesh.
5:32. This is a great sacrament:  but I speak in Christ and in the
5:33. Nevertheless, let every one of you in particular love for his
wife as himself:  And let the wife fear her husband.
Ephesians Chapter 6
Duties of children and servants.  The Christian's armour.
6:1. Children, obey your parents in the Lord:  for this is just.
6:2. Honour thy father and thy mother, which is the first commandment
with a promise:
6:3. That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest be long lived upon
6:4. And you, fathers, provoke not your children to anger:  but bring
them up in the discipline and correction of the Lord.
6:5. Servants, be obedient to them that are your lords according to the
flesh, with fear and trembling, in the simplicity of your heart, as to
6:6. Not serving to the eye, as it were pleasing men:  but, as the
servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart.
6:7. With a good will serving, as to the Lord, and not to men.
6:8. Knowing that whatsoever good thing any man shall do, the same
shall he receive from the Lord, whether he be bond or free.
6:9. And you, masters, do the same things to them, forbearing
threatenings:  knowing that the Lord both of them and you is in heaven.
And there is no respect of persons with him.
6:10. Finally, brethren, be strengthened in the Lord and in the might
of his power.
6:11. Put you on the armour of God, that you may be able to stand
against the deceits of the devil.
6:12. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood; but against
principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this
darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places.
High places, or heavenly places. . .That is to say, in the air, the
lowest of the celestial regions; in which God permits these wicked
spirits or fallen angels to wander.
6:13. Therefore, take unto you the armour of God, that you may be able
to resist in the evil day and to stand in all things perfect.
6:14. Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth and
having on the breastplate of justice:
6:15. And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace.
6:16. In all things taking the shield of faith, wherewith you may be
able to extinguish all the fiery darts of the most wicked one.
6:17. And take unto you the helmet of salvation and the sword of the
Spirit (which is the word of God).
6:18. By all prayer and supplication praying at all times in the
spirit:  and in the same watching with all instance and supplication for
all the saints:
6:19. And for me, that speech may be given me, that I may open my mouth
with confidence, to make known the mystery of the gospel,
6:20. For which I am an ambassador in a chain:  so that therein I may be
bold to speak according as I ought.
6:21. But that you also may know the things that concern me and what I
am doing, Tychicus, my dearest brother and faithful minister in the
Lord, will make known to you all things:
6:22. Whom I have sent to you for this same purpose:  that you may know
the things concerning us, and that he may comfort your hearts.
6:23. Peace be to the brethren and charity with faith, from God the
Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
6:24. Grace be with all them that love our Lord Jesus Christ in
incorruption.  Amen.
In incorruption. . .That is, with a pure and perfect love.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE PHILIPPIANS
The Philippians were the first among the Macedonians converted to the
faith.  They had a great veneration for St. Paul and supplied his wants
when he was a prisoner in Rome, sending to him by Epaphroditus, by whom
he sent this Epistle; in which he recommends charity, unity and
humility and warns them against false teachers, whom he calls dogs and
enemies of the cross of Christ.  He also returns thanks for their
benefactions.  It was written about twenty-nine years after our Lord's
Philippians Chapter 1
The apostle's affection for the Philippians.
1:1. Paul and Timothy, the servants of Jesus Christ:  to all the saints
in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with the bishops and deacons.
1:2. Grace be unto you and peace, from God our Father and from the Lord
Jesus Christ.
1:3. I give thanks to my God in every remembrance of you:
1:4. Always in all my prayers making supplication for you all with joy:
1:5. For your communication in the gospel of Christ, from the first day
1:6. Being confident of this very thing:  that he who hath begun a good
work in you will perfect it unto the day of Christ Jesus.
1:7. As it is meet for me to think this for you all, for that I have
you in my heart; and that, in my bands and in the defence and
confirmation of the gospel, you all are partakers of my joy.
1:8. For God is my witness how I long after you all in the bowels of
Jesus Christ.
1:9. And this I pray:  That your charity may more and more abound in
knowledge and in all understanding:
1:10. That you may approve the better things:  that you may be sincere
and without offence unto the day of Christ:
1:11. Filled with the fruit of justice, through Jesus Christ, unto the
glory and praise of God.
1:12. Now, brethren, I desire you should know that the things which
have happened to me have fallen out rather to the furtherance of the
1:13. So that my bands are made manifest in Christ, in all the court
and in all other places.
1:14. And many of the brethren in the Lord, growing confident by my
bands, are much more bold to speak the word of God without fear.
1:15. Some indeed, even out of envy and contention:  but some also for
good will preach Christ.
1:16. Some out of charity, knowing that I am set for the defence of the
1:17. And some out of contention preach Christ not sincerely:  supposing
that they raise affliction to my bands.
1:18. But what then?  So that by all means, whether by occasion or by
truth, Christ be preached:  in this also I rejoice, yea, and will
1:19. For I know that this shall fall out to me unto salvation, through
your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ,
1:20. According to my expectation and hope; that in nothing I shall be
confounded:  but with all confidence, as always, so now also, shall
Christ be magnified in my body, whether it be by life or by death.
1:21. For to me, to live is Christ:  and to die is gain.
1:22. And if to live in the flesh:  this is to me the fruit of labour.
And what I shall choose I know not.
This is to me, etc. . .His meaning is, that although his dying
immediately for Christ would be his gain, by putting him presently in
possession of heaven; yet he is doubtful what he should choose, because
by staying longer in the flesh, he should be more beneficial to the
souls of his neighbours.
1:23. But I am straitened between two:  having a desire to be dissolved
and to be with Christ, a thing by far the better.
1:24. But to abide still in the flesh is needful for you.
1:25. And having this confidence, I know that I shall abide and
continue with you all, for your furtherance and joy of faith:
1:26. That your rejoicing may abound in Christ Jesus for me, by my
coming to you again.
1:27. Only let your conversation be worthy of the gospel of Christ:
that, whether I come and see you, or, being absent, may hear of you,
that you stand fast in one spirit, with one mind labouring together for
the faith of the gospel.
1:28. And in nothing be ye terrified by the adversaries:  which to them
is a cause of perdition, but to you of salvation, and this from God.
1:29. For unto you it is given for Christ, not only to believe in him,
but also to suffer for him:
1:30. Having the same conflict as that which you have seen in me and
now have heard of me.
Philippians Chapter 2
He recommends them to unity and humility, and to work out their
salvation with fear and trembling.
2:1. If there be therefore any consolation in Christ, if any comfort of
charity, if any society of the spirit, if any bowels of commiseration:
2:2. Fulfil ye my joy, that you be of one mind, having the same
charity, being of one accord, agreeing in sentiment.
2:3. Let nothing be done through contention:  neither by vain glory.  But
in humility, let each esteem others better than themselves:
2:4. Each one not considering the things that are his own, but those
that are other men's.
2:5. For let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus:
2:6. Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal
2:7. But emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in
the likeness of men, and in habit found as a man.
Emptied himself, exinanivit. . .made himself as of no account.
2:8. He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even to the
death of the cross.
2:9. For which cause, God also hath exalted him and hath given him a
name which is above all names:
2:10. That in the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those that
are in heaven, on earth, and under the earth:
2:11. And that every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ
is in the glory of God the Father.
2:12. Wherefore, my dearly beloved, (as you have always obeyed, not as
in my presence only but much more now in my absence) with fear and
trembling work out your salvation.
With fear, etc. . .This is against the false faith, and presumptuous
security of modern sectaries.
2:13. For it is God who worketh in you, both to will and to accomplish,
according to his good will.
2:14. And do ye all things without murmurings and hesitations:
2:15. That you may be blameless and sincere children of God, without
reproof, in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation:  among whom
you shine as lights in the world.
2:16. Holding forth the word of life to my glory in the day of Christ:
because I have not run in vain, nor laboured in vain.
2:17. Yea, and if I be made a victim upon the sacrifice and service of
your faith, I rejoice and congratulate with you all.
2:18. And for the selfsame thing, do you also rejoice and congratulate
2:19. And I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy unto you shortly,
that I also may be of good comfort, when I know the things concerning
2:20. For I have no man so of the same mind, who with sincere affection
is solicitous for you.
2:21. For all seek the things that are their own not the things that
are Jesus Christ's.
2:22. Now know ye the proof of him:  that as a son with the father, so
hath he served with me in the gospel.
2:23. Him therefore I hope to send unto you immediately:  so soon as I
shall see how it will go with me.
2:24. And I trust in the Lord that I myself also shall come to you
2:25. But I have thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my
brother and fellow labourer and fellow soldier, but your apostle:  and
he that hath ministered to my wants.
2:26. For indeed he longed after you all:  and was sad, for that you had
heard that he was sick.
2:27. For indeed he was sick, nigh unto death:  but God had mercy on
him.  And not only on him, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow
upon sorrow.
2:28. Therefore, I sent him the more speedily:  that seeing him again,
you may rejoice, and I may be without sorrow.
2:29. Receive him therefore with all joy in the Lord:  and treat with
honour such as he is.
2:30. Because for the work of Christ he came to the point of death:
delivering his life, that he might fulfil that which on your part was
wanting towards my service.
Philippians Chapter 3
He warneth them against false teachers.  He counts all other things
loss, that he may gain Christ.
3:1. As to the rest, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord.  To write the
same things to you, to me indeed is not wearisome, but to you is
3:2. Beware of dogs:  beware of evil workers:  beware of the concision.
3:3. For we are the circumcision, who in spirit serve God and glory in
Christ Jesus, not having confidence in the flesh.
3:4. Though I might also have confidence in the flesh.  If any other
thinketh he may have confidence in the flesh, I more:
3:5. Being circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the
tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews.  According to the law, a
3:6. According to zeal, persecuting the church of God:  According to the
justice that is in the law, conversing without blame.
3:7. But the things that were gain to me, the same I have counted loss
3:8. Furthermore, I count all things to be but loss for the excellent
knowledge of Jesus Christ, my Lord:  for whom I have suffered the loss
of all things and count them but as dung, that I may gain Christ.
3:9. And may be found in him, not having my justice, which is of the
law, but that which is of the faith of Christ Jesus, which is of God:
justice in faith.
3:10. That I may know him and the power of his resurrection and the
fellowship of his sufferings:  being made conformable to his death,
3:11. If by any means I may attain to the resurrection which is from
3:12. Not as though I had already attained, or were already perfect:
but I follow after, if I may by any means apprehend, wherein I am also
apprehended by Christ Jesus.
3:13. Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended.  But one
thing I do:  Forgetting the things that are behind and stretching forth
myself to those that are before,
3:14. I press towards the mark, to the prize of the supernal vocation
of God in Christ Jesus.
3:15. Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded:  and if
in any thing you be otherwise minded, this also God will reveal to you,
3:16. Nevertheless, whereunto we are come, that we be of the same mind,
let us also continue in the same rule.
3:17. Be ye followers of me, brethren:  and observe them who walk so as
you have our model.
3:18. For many walk, of whom I have told you often (and now tell you
weeping) that they are enemies of the cross of Christ:
3:19. Whose end is destruction:  whose God is their belly:  and whose
glory is in their shame:  who mind earthly things.
3:20. But our conversation is in heaven:  from whence also we look for
the Saviour, our Lord Jesus Christ,
3:21. Who will reform the body of our lowness, made like to the body of
his glory, according to the operation whereby also he is able to subdue
all things unto himself.
Philippians Chapter 4
He exhorts them to perseverance in all good and acknowledges their
charitable contributions to him.
4:1. Therefore my dearly beloved brethren and most desired, my joy and
my crown:  so stand fast in the Lord, my dearly beloved.
4:2. I beg of Evodia and I beseech Syntyche to be of one mind in the
4:3. And I entreat thee also, my sincere companion, help those women
who have laboured with me in the gospel, with Clement and the rest of
my fellow labourers, whose names are in the book of life.
4:4. Rejoice in the Lord always:  again, I say, rejoice.
4:5. Let your modesty be known to all men.  The Lord is nigh.
4:6. Be nothing solicitous:  but in every thing, by prayer and
supplication, with thanksgiving, let your petitions be made known to
4:7. And the peace of God, which surpasseth all understanding, keep
your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
4:8. For the rest, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever
modest, whatsoever just, whatsoever holy, whatsoever lovely, whatsoever
of good fame, if there be any virtue, if any praise of discipline:
think on these things.
For the rest, brethren, whatsoever things are true, etc. . .Here the
apostle enumerates general precepts of morality, which they ought to
practise.  Whatsoever things are true. . .in words, in promises, in
lawful oaths, etc., he commands rectitude of mind, and sincerity of
heart.  Whatsoever modest. . .by these words he prescribes gravity in
manners, modesty in dress, and decency in conversation.  Whatsoever
just. . .That is, in dealing with others, in buying or selling, in trade
or business, to be fair and honest.  Whatsoever holy. . .by these words
may be understood, that those who are in a religious state professed,
or in holy orders, should lead a life of sanctity and chastity,
according to the vows they make; but these words being also applied to
those in the world, indicate the virtuous life they are bound by the
divine commandments to follow.  Whatsoever lovely. . .that is, to
practise those good offices in society, that procure us the esteem and
good will of our neighbours.  Whatsoever of good fame. . .That is, that
by our conduct and behaviour we should edify our neighbours, and give
them good example by our actions.  If there be any virtue, if any praise
of discipline. . .that those in error, by seeing the morality and good
discipline of the true religion, may be converted.  And finally, the
apostle commands, not only the Philippians, but all Christians, to
think on these things. . .that is, to make it their study and concern
that the peace of God might be with them.
4:9. The things which you have both learned and received and heard and
seen in me, these do ye:  and the God of peace shall be with you.
4:10. Now I rejoice in the Lord exceedingly that now at length your
thought for me hath flourished again, as you did also think; but you
were busied.
4:11. I speak not as it were for want.  For I have learned, in
whatsoever state I am, to be content therewith.
4:12. I know both how to be brought low, and I know how to abound
(every where and in all things I am instructed):  both to be full and to
be hungry:  both to abound and to suffer need.
4:13. I can do all things in him who strengtheneth me.
4:14. Nevertheless, you have done well in communicating to my
tribulation.
4:15. And you also know, O Philippians, that in the beginning of the
gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church communicated with me
as concerning giving and receiving, but you only.
4:16. For unto Thessalonica also you sent once and again for my use.
4:17. Not that I seek the gift:  but I seek the fruit that may abound to
your account.
4:18. But I have all and abound:  I am filled, having received from
Epaphroditus the things you sent, an odour of sweetness, an acceptable
sacrifice, pleasing to God.
4:19. And may my God supply all your want, according to his riches in
glory in Christ Jesus.
4:20. Now to God and our Father be glory, world without end.  Amen.
4:21. Salute ye every saint in Christ Jesus.
4:22. The brethren who are with me salute you.  All the saints salute
you:  especially they that are of Caesar's household.
4:23. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.  Amen.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE COLOSSIANS
Colossa was a city of Phrygia, near Laodicea.  It does not appear that
St. Paul had preached there himself, but that the Colossians were
converted by Epaphras, a disciple of the Apostles.  However, as St. Paul
was the great Apostle of the Gentiles, he wrote this Epistle to the
Colossians when he was in prison, and about the same time that he wrote
to the Ephesians and Philippians.  The exhortations and doctrine it
contains are similar to that which is set forth in his Epistle to the
Colossians Chapter 1
He gives thanks for the grace bestowed upon the Colossians and prays
for them.  Christ is the head of the church and the peacemaker through
his blood.  Paul is his minister.
1:1. Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, by the will of God, and Timothy,
1:2. To the saints and faithful brethren in Christ Jesus who are at
1:3. Grace be to you and peace, from God our Father and from the Lord
Jesus Christ.  We give thanks to God and the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ, praying always for you.
1:4. Hearing your faith in Christ Jesus and the love which you have
towards all the saints.
1:5. For the hope that is laid up for you in heaven, which you have
heard in the word of the truth of the gospel,
1:6. Which is come unto you, as also it is in the whole world and
bringeth forth fruit and groweth, even as it doth in you, since the day
you heard and knew the grace of God in truth.
1:7. As you learned of Epaphras, our most beloved fellow servant, who
is for you a faithful minister of Christ Jesus;
1:8. Who also hath manifested your love in the spirit.
1:9. Therefore we also, from the day that we heard it, cease not to
pray for you and to beg that you may be filled with the knowledge of
his will, in all wisdom and spiritual understanding:
1:10. That you may walk worthy of God, in all things pleasing; being
fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God:
1:11. Strengthened with all might according to the power of his glory,
in all patience and longsuffering with joy,
1:12. Giving thanks to God the Father, who hath made us worthy to be
partakers of the lot of the saints in light:
1:13. Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness and hath
translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his love,
1:14. In whom we have redemption through his blood, the remission of
1:15. Who is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of every
The firstborn. . .That is, first begotten; as the Evangelist declares,
the only begotten of his Father:  hence, St. Chrisostom explains
firstborn, not first created, as he was not created at all, but born of
his Father before all ages; that is, coeval with the Father and with
the Holy Ghost.
1:16. For in him were all things created in heaven and on earth,
visible and invisible, whether thrones, or dominations, or
principalities, or powers.  All things were created by him and in him.
1:17. And he is before all:  and by him all things consist.
1:18. And he is the head of the body, the church:  who is the beginning,
the firstborn from the dead, that in all things he may hold the
1:19. Because in him, it hath well pleased the Father that all fulness
should dwell:
1:20. And through him to reconcile all things unto himself, making
peace through the blood of his cross, both as to the things that are on
earth and the things that are in heaven.
1:21. And you, whereas you were some time alienated and enemies in mind
in evil works:
1:22. Yet now he hath reconciled in the body of his flesh through
death, to present you holy and unspotted and blameless before him:
1:23. If so ye continue in the faith, grounded and settled, and
immoveable from the hope of the gospel which you have heard, which is
preached in all the creation that is under heaven:  whereof I Paul am
made a minister.
1:24. Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you and fill up those things
that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh, for his
body, which is the church:
Wanting. . .There is no want in the sufferings of Christ in himself as
head:  but many sufferings are still wanting, or are still to come, in
his body the church, and his members the faithful.
1:25. Whereof I am made a minister according to the dispensation of
God, which is given me towards you, that I may fulfil the word of God:
1:26. The mystery which hath been hidden from ages and generations, but
now is manifested to his saints,
1:27. To whom God would make known the riches of the glory of this
mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ, in you the hope of glory.
1:28. Whom we preach, admonishing every man and teaching every man in
all wisdom, that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus.
1:29. Wherein also I labour, striving according to his working which he
worketh in me in power.
Colossians Chapter 2
He warns them against the impostures of the philosophers and the Jewish
teachers, that would withdraw them from Christ.
2:1. For I would have you know what manner of care I have for you and
for them that are at Laodicea and whosoever have not seen my face in
2:2. That their hearts may be comforted, being instructed in charity
and unto all riches of fulness of understanding, unto the knowledge of
the mystery of God the Father and of Christ Jesus:
2:3. In whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.
2:4. Now this I say, that no man may deceive you by loftiness of words.
2:5. For though I be absent in body, yet in spirit I am with you,
rejoicing, and beholding your order and the steadfastness of your faith
which is in Christ.
2:6. As therefore you have received Jesus Christ the Lord, walk ye in
2:7. Rooted and built up in him and confirmed in the faith, as also you
have learned:  abounding in him in thanksgiving.
2:8. Beware lest any man cheat you by philosophy and vain deceit:
according to the tradition of men according to the elements of the
world and not according to Christ.
2:9. For in him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead corporeally.
2:10. And you are filled in him, who is the head of all principality
2:11. In whom also you are circumcised with circumcision not made by
hand in despoiling of the body of the flesh:  but in the circumcision of
2:12. Buried with him in baptism:  in whom also you are risen again by
the faith of the operation of God who hath raised him up from the dead.
2:13. And you, when you were dead in your sins and the uncircumcision
of your flesh, he hath quickened together with him, forgiving you all
2:14. Blotting out the handwriting of the decree that was against us,
which was contrary to us.  And he hath taken the same out of the way,
fastening it to the cross.
2:15. And despoiling the principalities and powers, he hath exposed
them confidently in open shew, triumphing over them in himself.
2:16. Let no man therefore judge you in meat or in drink or in respect
of a festival day or of the new moon or of the sabbaths,
In meat, etc. . .He means with regard to the Jewish observations of the
distinction of clean and unclean meats; and of their festivals, new
moons, and sabbaths, as being no longer obligatory.
2:17. Which are a shadow of things to come:  but the body is of Christ.
2:18. Let no man seduce you, willing in humility and religion of
angels, walking in the things which he hath not seen, in vain puffed up
by the sense of his flesh:
Willing, etc. . .That is, by a self willed, self invented, superstitious
worship, falsely pretending humility, but really proceeding from pride.
Such was the worship, that many of the philosophers (against whom St.
Paul speaks, ver. 8) paid to angels or demons, by sacrificing to them,
as carriers of intelligence betwixt God and men; pretending humility in
so doing, as if God was too great to be addressed by men; and setting
aside the mediatorship of Jesus Christ, who is the head both of angels
and men.  Such also was the worship paid by the ancient heretics,
disciples of Simon and Menander, to the angels, whom they believed to
be makers and lords of this lower world.  This is certain, that they
whom the apostle here condemns, did not hold the head, (ver. 19,) that
is, Jesus Christ, and his mediatorship; and therefore what he writes
here no way touches the Catholic doctrine and practice, of desiring our
good angels to pray to God for us, through Jesus Christ.  St. Jerome
[Epist. ad Algas.] understands by the religion or service of angels,
the Jewish teachers, who sought to subject the new Christians to the
observance of the Mosaic law.
2:19. And not holding the head, from which the whole body, by joints
and bands, being supplied with nourishment and compacted, groweth into
the increase of God.
2:20. If then you be dead with Christ from the elements of this world,
why do you yet decree as though living in the world?
2:21. Touch not:  taste not:  handle not.
Touch not, etc. . .The meaning is, that Christians should not subject
themselves, either to the ordinances of the old law, forbidding
touching or tasting things unclean; or to the superstitious invention
of heretics, imposing such restraints, under pretence of wisdom,
humility, or mortification.
2:22. Which all are unto destruction by the very use, according to the
precepts and doctrines of men.
2:23. Which things have indeed a shew of wisdom in superstition and
humility, and not sparing the body; not in any honour to the filling of
Colossians Chapter 3
He exhorts them to put off the old man, and to put on the new.  The
duties of wives and husbands, children and servants.
3:1. Therefore if you be risen with Christ, seek the things that are
above, where Christ is sitting at the right hand of God.
3:2. Mind the things that are above, not the things that are upon the
3:3. For you are dead:  and your life is hid with Christ in God.
3:4. When Christ shall appear, who is your life, then you also shall
appear with him in glory.
3:5. Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth:
fornication, uncleanness, lust, evil concupiscence and covetousness,
which is the service of idols.
3:6. For which things the wrath of God cometh upon the children of
3:7. In which you also walked some time, when you lived in them.
3:8. But now put you also all away:  anger, indignation, malice,
blasphemy, filthy speech out of your mouth.
3:9. Lie not one to another:  stripping yourselves of the old man with
3:10. And putting on the new, him who is renewed unto knowledge,
according to the image of him that created him.
3:11. Where there is neither Gentile nor Jew, circumcision nor
uncircumcision, Barbarian nor Scythian, bond nor free.  But Christ is
all and in all.
3:12. Put ye on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, the
bowels of mercy, benignity, humility, modesty, patience:
3:13. Bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if any have a
complaint against another.  Even as the Lord hath forgiven you, so do
3:14. But above all these things have charity, which is the bond of
3:15. And let the peace of Christ rejoice in your hearts, wherein also
you are called in one body:  and be ye thankful.
3:16. Let the word of Christ dwell in you abundantly:  in all wisdom,
teaching and admonishing one another in psalms, hymns and spiritual
canticles, singing in grace in your hearts to God.
3:17. All whatsoever you do in word or in work, do all in the name of
the Lord Jesus Christ, giving thanks to God and the Father by him.
3:18. Wives, be subject to your husbands, as it behoveth in the Lord.
3:19. Husbands, love your wives and be not bitter towards them.
3:20. Children, obey your parents in all things:  for this is well
pleasing to the Lord.
3:21. Fathers, provoke not your children to indignation, lest they be
discouraged.
3:22. Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh:
not serving to the eye, as pleasing men:  but in simplicity of heart,
fearing God.
3:23. Whatsoever you do, do it from the heart, as to the Lord, and not
3:24. Knowing that you shall receive of the Lord the reward of
inheritance.  Serve ye the Lord Christ.
3:25. For he that doth wrong shall receive for that which he hath done
wrongfully.  And there is no respect of persons with God.
Colossians Chapter 4
He recommends constant prayer and wisdom.  Various salutations.
4:1. Masters, do to your servants that which is just and equal:  knowing
that you also have a master in heaven.
4:2. Be instant in prayer:  watching in it with thanksgiving.
4:3. Praying withal for us also, that God may open unto us a door of
speech to speak the mystery of Christ (for which also I am bound):
4:4. That I may make it manifest as I ought to speak.
4:5. Walk with wisdom towards them that are without, redeeming the
4:6. Let your speech be always in grace seasoned with salt:  that you
may know how you ought to answer every man.
4:7. All the things that concern me, Tychicus, our dearest brother and
faithful minister and fellow servant in the Lord, will make known to
4:8. What I have sent to you for this same purpose, that he may know
the things that concern you and comfort your hearts:
4:9. With Onesimus, a most beloved and faithful brother, who is one of
you.  All things that are done here, they shall make known to you.
4:10. Aristarchus, my fellow prisoner, saluteth you:  and Mark, the
cousin german of Barnabas, touching whom you have received
commandments.  If he come unto you, receive him.
4:11. And Jesus that is called Justus:  who are of the circumcision.
These only are my helpers, in the kingdom of God:  who have been a
comfort to me.
4:12. Epaphras saluteth you, who is one of you, a servant of Christ
Jesus, who is always solicitous for you in prayers, that you may stand
perfect and full in all the will of God.
4:13. For I bear him testimony that he hath much labour for you and for
them that are at Laodicea and them at Hierapolis.
4:14. Luke, the most dear physician, saluteth you:  and Demas.
4:15. Salute the brethren who are at Laodicea:  and Nymphas and the
church that is in his house.
4:16. And when this epistle shall have been read with you, cause that
it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans:  and that you read that
which is of the Laodiceans.
And that you read that which is of the Laodiceans. . .What this epistle
was is uncertain, and annotators have given different opinions
concerning it.  Some expound these words of an epistle which St. Paul
wrote to the Laodiceans, and is since lost, for that now extant is no
more than a collection of sentences out of the other epistles of St.
Paul; therefore it cannot be considered even as a part of that epistle.
Others explain that the text means a letter sent to St. Paul by the
Laodiceans, which he sends to the Colossians to be read by them.
However, this opinion does not seem well founded.  Hence it is more
probable that St. Paul wrote an epistle from Rome to the Laodiceans,
about the same time that he wrote to the Colossians, as he had them
both equally at heart, and that he ordered that epistle to be read by
the Colossians for their instructions; and being neighbouring cities,
they might communicate to each other what they had received from him;
as one epistle might contain some matters not related in the other, and
would be equally useful for their concern; and more particularly as
they were equally disturbed by intruders and false teachers, against
which the apostle was anxious to warn them, lest they should be
infected by their pernicious doctrine.
4:17. And say to Archippus:  Take heed to the ministry which thou hast
received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it.
4:18. The salutation of Paul with my own hand.  Be mindful of my bands.
Grace be with you.  Amen.
THE FIRST EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE THESSALONIANS
Thessalonica was the capital of Macedonia, in which St. Paul, having
preached the Gospel, converted some Jews and a great number of the
Gentiles:  but the unbelieving Jews, envying his success, raised such a
commotion against him that he, and his companion, Sylvanus were obliged
to quit the city.  Afterwards he went to Athens, where he heard that the
converts in Thessalonica were under a severe persecution, ever since
his departure; and lest they should lose their fortitude, he sent
Timothy to strengthen and comfort them in their sufferings.  In the
meantime St. Paul came to Corinth, where he wrote this first Epistle,
and also the second to the Thessalonians, both in the same year, being
the nineteenth after our Lord's Ascension.  These are the first of his
Epistles in the order of time.
1 Thessalonians Chapter 1
He gives thanks for the grace bestowed on the Thessalonians.
1:1. Paul and Sylvanus and Timothy to the church of the Thessalonians:
in God the Father and in the Lord Jesus Christ.
1:2. Grace be to you and peace.  We give thanks to God always for you
all:  making a remembrance of you in our prayers without ceasing,
1:3. Being mindful of the work of your faith and labour and charity:
and of the enduring of the hope of our Lord Jesus Christ before God and
1:4. Knowing, brethren, beloved of God, your election:
1:5. For our gospel hath not been unto you in word only, but in power
also:  and in the Holy Ghost and in much fulness, as you know what
manner of men we have been among you for your sakes.
1:6. And you became followers of us and of the Lord:  receiving the word
in much tribulation, with joy of the Holy Ghost:
1:7. So that you were made a pattern to all that believe in Macedonia
and in Achaia.
1:8. For from you was spread abroad the word of the Lord not only in
Macedonia and in Achaia but also in every place:  your faith which is
towards God, is gone forth, so that we need not to speak any thing.
1:9. For they themselves relate of us, what manner of entering in we
had unto you:  and how you turned to God from idols to serve the living
and true God.
1:10. And to wait for his Son from heaven (whom he raised up from the
dead), Jesus, who hath delivered us from the wrath to come.
1 Thessalonians Chapter 2
The sincerity of the apostle's preaching the gospel to them and of
their receiving it.
2:1. For yourselves know, brethren, our entrance in unto you, that it
was not in vain:
2:2. But having suffered many things before and been shamefully
treated, (as you know) at Philippi, we had confidence in our God, to
speak unto you the gospel of God in much carefulness.
2:3. For our exhortation was not of error, nor of uncleanness, nor in
2:4. But as we were approved by God that the gospel should be committed
to us:  even so we speak, not as pleasing men but God, who proveth our
2:5. For neither have we used at any time the speech of flattery, as
you know:  nor taken an occasion of covetousness (God is witness):
2:6. Nor sought we glory of men, neither of you, nor of others.
2:7. Whereas we might have been burdensome to you, as the apostles of
Christ:  but we became little ones in the midst of you, as if a nurse
should cherish her children:
2:8. So desirous of you, we would gladly impart unto you not only the
gospel of God but also our own souls:  because you were become most dear
2:9. For you remember, brethren, our labour and toil:  working night and
day, lest we should be chargeable to any of you, we preached among you
the gospel of God.
2:10. You are witnesses, and God also, how holily and justly and
without blame we have been to you that have believed:
2:11. As you know in what manner, entreating and comforting you (as a
father doth his children),
2:12. We testified to every one of you that you would walk worthy of
God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory.
2:14. For you, brethren, are become followers of the churches of God
which are in Judea, in Christ Jesus:  for you also have suffered the
same things from your own countrymen, even as they have from the Jews:
2:15. Who both killed the Lord Jesus, and the prophets, and have
persecuted us, and please not God, and are adversaries to all men;
2:16. Prohibiting us to speak to the Gentiles, that they may be saved,
to fill up their sins always:  for the wrath of God is come upon them to
To fill up their sins. . .That is, to fill up the measure of their sins,
after which God's justice would punish them.  For the wrath of God is
come upon them to the end. . .That is, to continue on them to the end.
2:17. But we, brethren, being taken away from you for a short time, in
sight, not in heart, have hastened the more abundantly to see your face
with great desire.
2:18. For we would have come unto you, I Paul indeed, once and again:
but Satan hath hindered us.
2:19. For what is our hope or joy or crown of glory?  Are not you, in
the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming?
2:20. For you are our glory and joy.
1 Thessalonians Chapter 3
The apostle's concern and love for the Thessalonians.
3:1. For which cause, forbearing no longer, we thought it good to
remain at Athens alone.
3:2. And we sent Timothy, our brother and the minister of God in the
gospel of Christ, to confirm you and exhort you concerning your faith:
3:3. That no man should be moved in these tribulations:  for yourselves
know that we are appointed thereunto.
3:4. For even when we were with you, we foretold you that we should
suffer tribulations:  as also it is come to pass, and you know.
3:5. For this cause also, I, forbearing no longer, sent to know your
faith:  lest perhaps he that tempteth should have tempted you:  and our
labour should be made vain.
3:6. But now when Timothy came to us from you and related to us your
faith and charity, and that you have a good remembrance of us always,
desiring to see us as we also to see you:
3:7. Therefore we were comforted, brethren, in you, in all our
necessity and tribulation, by your faith.
3:8. Because now we live, if you stand in the Lord.
3:9. For what thanks can we return to God for you, in all the joy
wherewith we rejoice for you before our God,
3:10. Night and day more abundantly praying that we may see your face
and may accomplish those things that are wanting to your faith?
3:11. Now God himself and our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ, direct
our way unto you.
3:12. And may the Lord multiply you and make you abound in charity
towards one another and towards all men:  as we do also towards you,
3:13. To confirm your hearts without blame, in holiness, before God and
our Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, with all his
saints.  Amen.
1 Thessalonians Chapter 4
He exhorts them to purity and mutual charity.  He treats of the
resurrection of the dead.
4:1. For the rest therefore, brethren, pray and beseech you in the Lord
Jesus that, as you have received from us, how you ought to walk and to
please God, so also you would walk, that you may abound the more.
4:2. For you know what precepts I have given to you by the Lord Jesus.
4:3. For this is the will of God, your sanctification:  That you should
abstain from fornication:
4:4. That every one of you should know how to possess his vessel in
sanctification and honour,
4:5. Not in the passion of lust, like the Gentiles that know not God:
4:6. And that no man overreach nor circumvent his brother in business:
because the Lord is the avenger of all these things, as we have told
you before and have testified.
4:7. For God hath not called us unto uncleanness, but unto
sanctification.
4:8. Therefore, he that despiseth these things, despiseth not man, but
God, who also hath given his holy Spirit in us.
4:9. But as touching the charity of brotherhood, we have no need to
write to you:  for yourselves have learned of God to love one another.
4:10. For indeed you do it towards all the brethren in all Macedonia.
But we entreat you, brethren, that you abound more:
4:11. And that you use your endeavour to be quiet:  and that you do your
own business and work with your own hands, as we commanded you:  and
that you walk honestly towards them that are without:  and that you want
nothing of any man's.
4:12. And we will not have you ignorant brethren, concerning them that
are asleep, that you be not sorrowful, even as others who have no hope.
4:13. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again:  even so them
who have slept through Jesus, will God bring with him.
4:14. For this we say unto you in the word of the Lord, that we who are
alive, who remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them
who have slept.
4:15. For the Lord himself shall come down from heaven with commandment
and with the voice of an archangel and with the trumpet of God:  and the
dead who are in Christ shall rise first.
4:16. Then we who are alive, who are left, shall be taken up together
with them in the clouds to meet Christ, into the air:  and so shall we
be always with the Lord.
4:17. Wherefore, comfort ye one another with these words.
1 Thessalonians Chapter 5
The day of the Lord shall come when least expected.  Exhortations to
several duties.
5:1. But of the times and moments, brethren, you need not, that we
should write to you:
5:2. For yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord shall so
come as a thief in the night.
5:3. For when they shall say:  Peace and security; then shall sudden
destruction come upon them, as the pains upon her that is with child,
and they shall not escape.
5:4. But you, brethren, are not in darkness, that the day should
overtake you as a thief.
5:5. For all you are the children of light and children of the day:  we
are not of the night nor of darkness.
5:6. Therefore, let us not sleep, as others do:  but let us watch, and
5:7. For they that sleep, sleep in the night; and they that are drunk,
are drunk in the night.
5:8. But let us, who are of the day, be sober, having on the breast
plate of faith and charity and, for a helmet, the hope of salvation.
5:9. For God hath not appointed us unto wrath:  but unto the purchasing
of salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ,
5:10. Who died for us:  that, whether we watch or sleep, we may live
together with him.
5:11. For which cause comfort one another and edify one another, as you
5:12. And we beseech you, brethren, to know them who labour among you
and are over you in the Lord and admonish you;
5:13. That you esteem them more abundantly in charity, for their work's
sake.  Have peace with them.
5:14. And we beseech you, brethren, rebuke the unquiet:  comfort the
feeble minded:  support the weak:  be patient towards all men.
The unquiet. . .That is, such as are irregular and disorderly.
5:15. See that none render evil for evil to any man:  but ever follow
that which is good towards each other and towards all men.
5:16. Always rejoice.
5:17. Pray without ceasing.
5:18. In all things give thanks for this is the will of God in Christ
Jesus concerning you all.
5:19. Extinguish not the spirit.
5:20. Despise not prophecies.
5:21. But prove all things:  hold fast that which is good.
5:22. From all appearance of evil refrain yourselves.
5:23. And may the God of peace himself sanctify you in all things:  that
your whole spirit and soul and body may be preserved blameless in the
coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.
5:24. He is faithful who hath called you, who also will do it.
5:25. Brethren, pray for us.
5:26. Salute all the brethren with a holy kiss.
5:27. I charge you by the Lord that this epistle be read to all the
holy brethren.
5:28. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.  Amen.
THE SECOND EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE THESSALONIANS
In this Epistle St. Paul admonishes the Thessalonians to be constant in
the faith of Christ and not to be terrified by the insinuations of
false teachers telling them that the day of judgment was near at hand,
as there must come many signs and wonders before it.  He bids them to
hold firm the traditions received from him, whether by word, or by
epistle, and shews them how they may be certain of his letters by the
manner he writes.
2 Thessalonians Chapter 1
He gives thanks to God for their faith and constancy and prays for
their advancement in all good.
1:1. Paul and Sylvanus and Timothy, to the church of the Thessalonians.
In God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ,
1:2. Grace unto you:  and peace from God our Father and from the Lord
Jesus Christ.
1:3. We are bound to give thanks always to God for you, brethren, as it
is fitting, because your faith groweth exceedingly and the charity of
every one of you towards each other aboundeth.
1:4. So that we ourselves also glory in you in the churches of God, for
your patience and faith, and in all your persecutions and tribulations:
which you endure
1:5. For an example of the just judgment of God, that you may be
counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which also you suffer.
1:6. Seeing it is a just thing with God to repay tribulation to them
that trouble you:
1:7. And to you who are troubled, rest with us, when the Lord Jesus
shall be revealed from heaven with the angels of his power:
1:8. In a flame of fire, giving vengeance to them who know not God and
who obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.
1:9. Who shall suffer eternal punishment in destruction, from the face
of the Lord and from the glory of his power:
1:10. When he shall come to be glorified in his saints and to be made
wonderful in all them who have believed; because our testimony was
believed upon you in that day.
1:11. Wherefore also we pray always for you:  That our God would make
you worthy of his vocation and fulfil all the good pleasure of his
goodness and the work of faith in power:
1:12. That the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you
in him, according to the grace of our God and of the Lord Jesus Christ.
2 Thessalonians Chapter 2
The day of the Lord is not to come till the man of sin be revealed.  The
apostle's traditions are to be observed.
2:1. And we beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord Jesus
Christ and of our gathering together unto him:
2:2. That you be not easily moved from your sense nor be terrified,
neither by spirit nor by word nor by epistle.  as sent from us, as if
the day of the Lord were at hand.
2:3. Let no man deceive you by any means:  for unless there come a
revolt first, and the man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition
A revolt. . .This revolt, or falling off, is generally understood, by
the ancient fathers, of a revolt from the Roman empire, which was first
to be destroyed, before the coming of Antichrist.  It may, perhaps, be
understood also of a revolt of many nations from the Catholic Church;
which has, in part, happened already, by means of Mahomet, Luther, &c.,
and it may be supposed, will be more general in the days of the
Antichrist.  The man of sin. . .Here must be meant some particular man,
as is evident from the frequent repetition of the Greek article:  o`,
'the' man of sin, 'the' son of perdition, 'the' adversary or opposer.
It agrees to the wicked and great Antichrist, who will come before the
end of the world.
2:4. Who opposeth and is lifted up above all that is called God or that
is worshipped, so that he sitteth in the temple of God, shewing himself
as if he were God.
In the temple. . .Either that of Jerusalem which some think he will
rebuild; or in some Christian church, which he will pervert to his own
worship:  as Mahomet has done by the churches of the east.
2:5. Remember you not that, when I was yet with you, I told you these
2:6. And now you know what withholdeth, that he may be revealed in his
2:7. For the mystery of iniquity already worketh:  only that he who now
holdeth do hold, until he be taken out of the way.
2:8. And then that wicked one shall be revealed:  whom the Lord Jesus
shall kill with the spirit of his mouth and shall destroy with the
brightness of his coming:  him
2:9. Whose coming is according to the working of Satan, in all power
and signs and lying wonders:
2:10. And in all seduction of iniquity to them that perish:  because
they receive not the love of the truth, that they might be saved.
Therefore God shall send them the operation of error, to believe lying:
God shall send. . .That is God shall suffer them to be deceived by lying
wonders, and false miracles, in punishment of their not entertaining
the love of truth.
2:11. That all may be judged who have not believed the truth but have
consented to iniquity.
2:12. But we ought to give thanks to God always for you, brethren,
beloved of God, for that God hath chosen you firstfruits unto
salvation, in sanctification of the spirit and faith of the truth:
2:13. Whereunto also he hath called you by our gospel, unto the
purchasing of the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
2:14. Therefore, brethren, stand fast:  and hold the traditions, which
you have learned, whether by word or by our epistle.
Traditions. . .See here that the unwritten traditions are no less to be
received than their epistles.
2:15. Now our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God and our Father, who
hath loved us and hath given us everlasting consolation and good hope
2:16. Exhort your hearts and confirm you in every good work and word.
2 Thessalonians Chapter 3
He begs their prayers and warns them against idleness.
3:1. For the rest, brethren, pray for us that the word of God may run
and may be glorified, even as among you:
May run. . .That is, may spread itself, and have free course.
3:2. And that we may be delivered from importunate and evil men:  for
all men have not faith.
3:3. But God is faithful, who will strengthen and keep you from evil.
3:4. And we have confidence concerning you in the Lord that the things
which we command, you both do and will do.
3:5. And the Lord direct your hearts, in the charity of God and the
patience of Christ.
3:6. And we charge you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,
that you withdraw yourselves from every brother walking disorderly and
not according to the tradition which they have received of us.
3:7. For yourselves know how you ought to imitate us.  For we were not
disorderly among you.
3:8. Neither did we eat any man's bread for nothing:  but in labour and
in toil we worked night and day, lest we should be chargeable to any of
3:9. Not as if we had not power:  but that we might give ourselves a
pattern unto you, to imitate us.
3:10. For also, when we were with you, this we declared to you:  that,
if any man will not work, neither let him eat.
3:11. For we have heard there are some among you who walk disorderly:
working not at all, but curiously meddling.
3:12. Now we charge them that are such and beseech them by the Lord
Jesus Christ that, working with silence, they would eat their own
3:13. But you, brethren, be not weary in well doing.
3:14. And if any man obey not our word by this epistle, note that man
and do not keep company with him, that he may be ashamed.
3:15. Yet do not esteem him as an enemy but admonish him as a brother.
3:16. Now the Lord of peace himself give you everlasting peace in every
place.  The Lord be with you all.
3:17. The salutation of Paul with my own hand:  which is the sign in
every epistle.  So I write.
3:18. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.  Amen.
THE FIRST EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO TIMOTHY
St. Paul write this Epistle to his BELOVED TIMOTHY, being then bishop
of Ephesus, to instruct him in the duties of a bishop, both in respect
to himself and to his charge; and that he ought to be well informed of
the good morals of those on whom he was to impose hands:  Impose not
hands lightly upon any man.  He tells him also how he should behave
towards his clergy.  The Epistle was written about 33 years after our
Lord's Ascension; but where it was written is uncertain:  the more
general opinion is, that it was in Macedonia.
1 Timothy Chapter 1
He puts Timothy in mind of his charge and blesses God for the mercy he
himself had received.
1:1. Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, according to the commandment of
God our Saviour and Christ Jesus our hope:
1:2. To Timothy, his beloved son in faith.  Grace, mercy and peace, from
God the Father and from Christ Jesus our Lord.
1:3. As I desired thee to remain at Ephesus when I went into Macedonia,
that thou mightest charge some not to teach otherwise:
1:4. Not to give heed to fables and endless genealogies, which furnish
questions rather than the edification of God which is in faith.
1:5. Now the end of the commandment is charity from a pure heart, and a
good conscience, and an unfeigned faith.
1:6. From which things some, going astray, are turned aside unto vain
1:7. Desiring to be teachers of the law:  understanding neither the
things they say, nor whereof they affirm.
1:8. But we know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully.
1:9. Knowing this:  That the law is not made for the just man but for
the unjust and disobedient, for the ungodly and for sinners, for the
wicked and defiled, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers,
for manslayers,
The law is not. . .He means, that the just man doth good, and avoideth
evil, not as compelled by the law, and merely for fear of the
punishment appointed for transgressors; but voluntarily, and out of the
love of God and virtue; and would do so, though there were no law.
1:10. For fornicators, for them who defile themselves with mankind, for
menstealers, for liars, for perjured persons, and whatever other thing
is contrary to sound doctrine:
1:11. Which is according to the gospel of the glory of the blessed God
which hath been committed to my trust.
1:12. I give him thanks who hath strengthened me, even to Christ Jesus
our Lord, for that he hath counted me faithful, putting me in the
1:13. Who before was a blasphemer and a persecutor and contumelious.
But I obtained the mercy of God, because I did it ignorantly in
1:14. Now the grace of our Lord hath abounded exceedingly with faith
and love, which is in Christ Jesus.
1:15. A faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ
Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the chief.
1:16. But for this cause have I obtained mercy:  that in me first Christ
Jesus might shew forth all patience, for the information of them that
shall believe in him unto life everlasting.
1:17. Now to the king of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be
honour and glory for ever and ever.  Amen.
1:18. This precept, I commend to thee, O son Timothy:  according to the
prophecies going before on thee, that thou war in them a good warfare,
1:19. Having faith and a good conscience, which some rejecting have
made shipwreck concerning the faith.
1:20. Of whom is Hymeneus and Alexander, whom I have delivered up to
Satan, that they may learn not to blaspheme.
1 Timothy Chapter 2
Prayers are to be said for all men, because God wills the salvation of
all.  Women are not to teach.
2:1. I desire therefore, first of all, that supplications, prayers,
intercessions and thanksgivings be made for all men:
2:2. For kings and for all that are in high station:  that we may lead a
quiet and a peaceable life in all piety and chastity.
2:3. For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour,
2:4. Who will have all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of
2:5. For there is one God:  and one mediator of God and men, the man
Christ Jesus:
One mediator. . .Christ is the one and only mediator of redemption, who
gave himself, as the apostle writes in the following verse.
2:6. Who gave himself a redemption for all, a testimony in due times.
a redemption for all. . .  He is also the only mediator, who stands in
need of no other to recommend his petitions to the Father.  But this is
not against our seeking the prayers and intercession, as well of the
faithful upon earth, as of the saints and angels in heaven, for
obtaining mercy, grace, and salvation, through Jesus Christ.  As St.
Paul himself often desired the help of the prayers of the faithful,
without any injury to the mediatorship of Jesus Christ.
2:7. Whereunto I am appointed a preacher and an apostle (I say the
truth, I lie not), a doctor of the Gentiles in faith and truth.
2:8. I will therefore that men pray in every place, lifting up pure
hands, without anger and contention.
2:9. In like manner, women also in decent apparel:  adorning themselves
with modesty and sobriety, not with plaited hair, or gold, or pearls,
or costly attire:
2:10. But, as it becometh women professing godliness, with good works.
2:11. Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection.
2:12. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to use authority over the
man:  but to be in silence.
2:13.For Adam was first formed; then Eve.
2:14. And Adam was not seduced; but the woman, being seduced, was in
the transgression.
2:15. Yet she shall be saved through child bearing; if she continue in
faith and love and sanctification with sobriety.
1 Timothy Chapter 3
What sort of men are to be admitted into the clergy.  The church is the
pillar of truth.
3:1. A faithful saying:  If a man desire the office of a bishop, he
desireth good work.
3:2. It behoveth therefore a bishop to be blameless, the husband of one
wife, sober, prudent, of good behaviour, chaste, given to hospitality,
Of one wife. . .  The meaning is not that every bishop should have a wife
(for St. Paul himself had none), but that no one should be admitted to
the holy orders of bishop, priest, or deacon, who had been married more
3:3. Not given to wine, no striker, but modest, not quarrelsome, not
covetous, but
3:4. One that ruleth well his own house, having his children in
subjection with all chastity.
3:5. But if a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take
care of the church of God?
3:6. Not a neophyte:  lest, being puffed up with pride, he fall into the
judgment of the devil.
A neophyte. . .  That is, one lately baptized, a young convert.
3:7. Moreover, he must have a good testimony of them who are without:
lest he fall into reproach and the snare of the devil.
3:8. Deacons in like manner:  chaste, not double tongued, not given to
much wine, not greedy of filthy lucre:
3:9. Holding the mystery of faith in a pure conscience.
3:10. And let these also first be proved:  and so let them minister,
having no crime.
3:11. The women in like manner:  chaste, not slanderers, but sober,
faithful in all things.
3:12. Let deacons be the husbands of one wife:  who rule well their
children and their own houses.
3:13. For they that have ministered well shall purchase to themselves a
good degree and much confidence in the faith which is in Christ Jesus.
3:14. These things I write to thee, hoping that I shall come to thee
3:15. But if I tarry long, that thou mayest know how thou oughtest to
behave thyself in the house of God, which is the church of the living
God, the pillar and ground of the truth.
The pillar and ground of the truth. . .  Therefore the church of the
living God can never uphold error, nor bring in corruptions,
superstition, or idolatry.
3:16. And evidently great is the mystery of godliness, which was
manifested in the flesh, was justified in the spirit, appeared unto
angels, hath been preached unto the Gentiles, is believed in the world,
is taken up in glory.
1 Timothy Chapter 4
He warns him against heretics, and exhorts him to the exercise of
4:1. Now the Spirit manifestly saith that in the last times some shall
depart from the faith, giving heed to spirits of error and doctrines of
4:2. Speaking lies in hypocrisy and having their conscience seared,
4:3. Forbidding to marry, to abstain from meats, which God hath created
to be received with thanksgiving by the faithful and by them that have
known the truth.
Forbidding to marry, to abstain from meats. . .  He speaks of the
Gnostics, the Marcionites, the Eneratites, the Manicheans, and other
ancient heretics, who absolutely condemned marriage, and the use of all
kind of meat; because they pretended that all flesh was from an evil
principle.  Whereas the church of God, so far from condemning marriage,
holds it a holy sacrament; and forbids it to none but such as by vow
have chosen the better part:  and prohibits not the use of any meats
whatsoever in proper times and seasons; though she does not judge all
kind of diet proper for days of fasting and penance.
4:4. For every creature of God is good, and nothing to be rejected that
is received with thanksgiving:
4:5. For it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer.
4:6. These things proposing to the brethren, thou shalt be a good
minister of Christ Jesus, nourished up in the words of faith and of the
good doctrine which thou hast attained unto.
4:7. But avoid foolish and old wives fables:  and exercise thyself unto
4:8. For bodily exercise is profitable to little:  but godliness is
profitable to all things, having promise of the life that now is and of
that which is to come.
4:9. A faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation.
4:10. For therefore we labour and are reviled, because we hope in the
living God, who is the Saviour of all men, especially of the faithful.
4:11. These things command and teach:
4:12. Let no man despise thy youth:  but be thou an example of the
faithful, in word, in conversation, in charity, in faith, in chastity.
4:13. Till I come, attend unto reading, to exhortation and to doctrine.
4:14. Neglect not the grace that is in thee, which was given thee by
prophecy, with imposition of the hands of the priesthood.
4:15. Meditate upon these things, be wholly in these things:  that thy
profiting may be manifest to all.
4:16. Take heed to thyself and to doctrine:  be earnest in them.  For in
doing this thou shalt both save thyself and them that hear thee.
1 Timothy Chapter 5
He gives him lessons concerning widows, and how he is to behave to his
5:1. An ancient man rebuke not, but entreat him as a father:  young men,
as brethren:
5:2. Old women, as mothers:  young women, as sisters, in all chastity.
5:3. Honour widows that are widows indeed.
5:4. But if any widow have children or grandchildren, let her learn
first to govern her own house and to make a return of duty to her
parents; for this is acceptable before God.
5:5. But she that is a widow indeed, and desolate, let her trust in God
and continue in supplications and prayers night and day.
5:6. For she that liveth in pleasures is dead while she is living.
5:7. And this give in charge, that they may be blameless.
5:8. But if any man have not care of his own and especially of those of
his house, he hath denied the faith and is worse than an infidel.
5:9. Let a widow be chosen of no less than threescore years of age, who
hath been the wife of one husband.
5:10. Having testimony for her good works, if she have brought up
children, if she have received to harbour, if she have washed the
saints' feet, if she have ministered to them that suffer tribulation,
if she have diligently followed every good work.
5:11. But the younger widows avoid.  For when they have grown wanton in
Christ, they will marry:
5:12. Having damnation, because they have made void their first faith.
Their first faith. . .  Their vow, by which they had engaged themselves
5:13. And withal being idle they learn to go about from house to house:
and are not only idle, but tattlers also and busy bodies, speaking
things which they ought not.
5:14. I will, therefore, that the younger should marry, bear children,
be mistresses of families, give no occasion to the adversary to speak
5:15. For some are already turned aside after Satan.
5:16. If any of the faithful have widows, let him minister to them, and
let not the church be charged:  that there may be sufficient for them
that are widows indeed.
5:17. Let the priests that rule well be esteemed worthy of double
honour:  especially they who labour in the word and doctrine.
5:18. For the scripture saith:  Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that
treadeth out the corn:  and, The labourer is worthy of his reward.
5:19. Against a priest receive not an accusation, but under two or
three witnesses.
5:20. Them that sin reprove before all that the rest also may have
5:21. I charge thee, before God and Christ Jesus and the elect angels,
that thou observe these things without prejudice, doing nothing by
declining to either side.
5:22. Impose not hands lightly upon any man, neither be partaker of
other men's sins.  Keep thyself chaste.
5:23. Do not still drink water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's
sake and thy frequent infirmities.
5:24. Some men's sins are manifest, going before to judgment:  and some
men they follow after.
5:25. In like manner also good deeds are manifest:  and they that are
otherwise cannot be hid.
1 Timothy Chapter 6
Duties of servants.  The danger of covetousness.  Lessons for the rich.
6:1. Whosoever are servants under the yoke, let them count their
masters worthy of all honour; lest the name of the Lord and his
doctrine be blasphemed.
6:2. But they that have believing masters, let them not despise them,
because they are brethren; but serve them the rather, because they are
faithful and beloved, who are partakers of the benefit.  These things
teach and exhort.
6:3. If any man teach otherwise and consent not to the sound words of
our Lord Jesus Christ and to that doctrine which is according to
6:4. He is proud, knowing nothing, but sick about questions and strifes
of words; from which arise envies, contentions, blasphemies, evil
6:5. Conflicts of men corrupted in mind and who are destitute of the
truth, supposing gain to be godliness.
6:6. But godliness with contentment is great gain.
6:7. For we brought nothing into this world:  and certainly we can carry
nothing out.
6:8. But having food and wherewith to be covered, with these we are
6:9. For they that will become rich fall into temptation and into the
snare of the devil and into many unprofitable and hurtful desires,
which drown men into destruction and perdition.
6:10. For the desire of money is the root of all evils; which some
coveting have erred from the faith and have entangled themselves in
many sorrows.
6:11. But thou, O man of God, fly these things:  and pursue justice,
godliness, faith, charity, patience, mildness.
6:12. Fight the good fight of faith.  Lay hold on eternal life,
whereunto thou art called and be it confessed a good confession before
many witnesses.
6:13. I charge thee before God who quickeneth all things, and before
Christ Jesus who gave testimony under Pontius Pilate, a good
6:14. That thou keep the commandment without spot, blameless, unto the
coming of our Lord Jesus Christ,
6:15. Which in his times he shall shew, who is the Blessed and only
Mighty, the King of kings and Lord of lords:
6:16. Who only hath immortality and inhabiteth light inaccessible:  whom
no man hath seen, nor can see:  to whom be honour and empire
everlasting.  Amen.
6:17. Charge the rich of this world not to be highminded nor to trust
in the uncertainty of riches, but in the living God (who giveth us
abundantly all things to enjoy)
6:18. To do good, to be rich in good work, to give easily, to
communicate to others,
6:19. To lay up in store for themselves a good foundation against the
time to come, that they may lay hold on the true life.
6:20. O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding
the profane novelties of words and oppositions of knowledge falsely so
6:21. Which some promising, have erred concerning the faith.  Grace be
with thee.  Amen.
THE SECOND EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO TIMOTHY
In this Epistle, the Apostle again instructs and admonishes Timothy in
what belonged to his office, as in the former; and also warns him to
shun the conversation of those who had erred from the truth, describing
at the same time their character, He tells him of his approaching death
and desires him to come speedily to him.  It appears from this
circumstance that he wrote this second Epistle in the time of his last
imprisonment at Rome and not long before his martyrdom.
2 Timothy Chapter 1
He admonishes him to stir up the grace he received by his ordination
and not to be discouraged at his sufferings, but to hold firm the sound
doctrine of the gospel.
1:1. Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, by the will of God, according to
the promise of life which is in Christ Jesus:
1:2. To Timothy, my dearly beloved son.  Grace, mercy and peace, from
God the Father and from Christ Jesus our Lord.
1:3. I give thanks to God, whom I serve from my forefathers, with a
pure conscience, that without ceasing I have a remembrance of thee in
my prayers, night and day.
1:4. Desiring to see thee, being mindful of thy tears, that I may be
filled with joy:
1:5. Calling to mind that faith which is in thee unfeigned, which also
dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois and in thy mother Eunice, and I am
certain that in thee also.
1:6. For which cause I admonish thee that thou stir up the grace of God
which is in thee by the imposition of my hands.
1:7. For God hath not given us the spirit of fear:  but of power and of
love and of sobriety.
1:8. Be not thou therefore ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of
me his prisoner:  but labour with the gospel, according to the power of
1:9. Who hath delivered us and called us by his holy calling, not
according to our own works, but according to his own purpose and grace,
which was given us in Christ Jesus before the times of the world:
1:10. But is now made manifest by the illumination of our Saviour Jesus
Christ, who hath destroyed death and hath brought to light life and
incorruption by the gospel.
By the illumination. . .That is, by the bright coming and appearing of
our Saviour.
1:11. Wherein I am appointed a preacher and an apostle and teacher of
the Gentiles.
1:12. For which cause, I also suffer these things:  but I am not
ashamed.  For I know whom I have believed and I am certain that he is
able to keep that which I have committed unto him, against that day.
1:13. Hold the form of sound words which thou hast heard of me:  in
faith and in the love which is in Christ Jesus.
1:14. Keep the good thing committed to thy trust by the Holy Ghost who
dwelleth in us.
1:15. Thou knowest this, that all they who are in Asia are turned away
from me:  of whom are Phigellus and Hermogenes.
1:16. The Lord give mercy to the house of Onesiphorus:  because he hath
often refreshed me and hath not been ashamed of my chain:
1:17. But when he was come to Rome, he carefully sought me and found
1:18. The Lord grant unto him to find mercy of the Lord in that day.
And in how many things he ministered unto me at Ephesus, thou very well
2 Timothy Chapter 2
He exhorts him to diligence in his office and patience in suffering.
The danger of the delusions of heretics.
2:1. Thou therefore, my son, be strong in Christ Jesus:
2:2. And the things which thou hast heard of me by many witnesses, the
same commend to faithful men who shall be fit to teach others also.
2:3. Labour as a good soldier of Christ Jesus.
2:4. No man, being a soldier to God, entangleth himself with secular
businesses:  that he may please him to whom he hath engaged himself.
2:5. For he also that striveth for the mastery is not crowned, except
he strive lawfully.
2:6. The husbandman that laboureth must first partake of the fruits.
2:7. Understand what I say:  for the Lord will give thee in all things
understanding.
2:8. Be mindful that the Lord Jesus Christ is risen again from the
dead, of the seed of David, according to my gospel:
2:9. Wherein I labour even unto bands, as an evildoer.  But the word of
God is not bound.
2:10. Therefore I endure all things for the sake of the elect, that
they also may obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus, with
heavenly glory.
2:11. A faithful saying:  for if we be dead with him, we shall live also
2:12. If we suffer, we shall also reign with him.  If we deny him, he
will also deny us.
2:13. If we believe not, he continueth faithful, he cannot deny
2:14. Of these things put them in mind, charging them before the Lord.
Contend not in words:  for it is to no profit, but to the subverting of
the hearers.
2:15. Carefully study to present thyself approved unto God, a workman
that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.
2:16. But shun profane and vain babblings:  for they grow much towards
ungodliness.
2:17. And their speech spreadeth like a canker:  of whom are Hymeneus
and Philetus:
2:18. Who have erred from the truth, saying that the resurrection is
past already, and have subverted the faith of some.
2:19. But the sure foundation of God standeth firm, having this seal:
the Lord knoweth who are his; and let every one depart from iniquity
who nameth the name of the Lord.
2:20. But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and of
silver, but also of wood and of earth:  and some indeed unto honour, but
some unto dishonour.
2:21. If any man therefore shall cleanse himself from these, he shall
be a vessel unto honour, sanctified and profitable to the Lord,
prepared unto every good work.
2:22. But flee thou youthful desires, and pursue justice, faith,
charity and peace with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart.
2:23. And avoid foolish and unlearned questions, knowing that they
beget strifes.
2:24. But the servant of the Lord must not wrangle:  but be mild toward
all men, apt to teach, patient,
2:25. With modesty admonishing them that resist the truth:  if
peradventure God may give them repentance to know the truth;
2:26. And they may recover themselves from the snares of the devil by
whom they are held captive at his will.
2 Timothy Chapter 3
The character of heretics of latter days.  He exhorts Timothy to
constancy.  Of the great profit of the knowledge of the scriptures.
3:1. Know also this, that in the last days shall come dangerous times.
3:2. Men shall be lovers of themselves, covetous, haughty, proud,
blasphemers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, wicked,
3:3. Without affection, without peace, slanderers, incontinent,
unmerciful, without kindness,
3:4. Traitors, stubborn, puffed up, and lovers of pleasure more than of
3:5. Having an appearance indeed of godliness but denying the power
thereof.  Now these avoid.
3:6. For of these sort are they who creep into houses and lead captive
silly women laden with sins, who are led away with divers desires:
3:7. Ever learning, and never attaining to the knowledge of the truth.
3:8. Now as Jannes and Mambres resisted Moses, so these also resist the
truth, men corrupted in mind, reprobate concerning the faith.
Jannes and Mambres. . .The magicians of king Pharao.
3:9. But they shall proceed no farther:  for their folly shall be
manifest to all men, as theirs also was.
3:10. But thou hast fully known my doctrine, manner of life, purpose,
faith, longsuffering, love, patience,
3:11. Persecutions, afflictions:  such as came upon me at Antioch, at
Iconium and at Lystra:  what persecutions I endured, and out of them all
the Lord delivered me.
3:12. And all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer
persecution.
3:13. But evil men and seducers shall grow worse and worse:  erring, and
driving into error,
3:14. But continue thou in those things which thou hast learned and
which have been committed to thee.  Knowing of whom thou hast learned
3:15. And because from thy infancy thou hast known the holy scriptures
which can instruct thee to salvation by the faith which is in Christ
3:16. All scripture, inspired of God, is profitable to teach, to
reprove, to correct, to instruct in justice:
All scripture,. . .Every part of divine scripture is certainly
profitable for all these ends.  But, if we would have the whole rule of
Christian faith and practice, we must not be content with those
Scriptures, which Timothy knew from his infancy, that is, with the Old
Testament alone:  nor yet with the New Testament, without taking along
with it the traditions of the apostles, and the interpretation of the
church, to which the apostles delivered both the book, and the true
meaning of it.
3:17. That the man of God may be perfect, furnished to every good work.
2 Timothy Chapter 4
His charge to Timothy.  He tells him of his approaching death and
desires him to come to him.
4:1. I charge thee, before God and Jesus Christ, who shall judge the
living and the dead, by his coming and his kingdom:
4:2. Preach the word:  be instant in season, out of season:  reprove,
entreat, rebuke in all patience and doctrine.
4:3. For there shall be a time when they will not endure sound doctrine
but, according to their own desires, they will heap to themselves
teachers having itching ears:
4:4. And will indeed turn away their hearing from the truth, but will
be turned unto fables.
4:5. But be thou vigilant, labour in all things, do the work of an
evangelist, fulfil thy ministry.  Be sober.
An evangelist. . .a diligent preacher of the gospel.
4:6. For I am even now ready to be sacrificed:  and the time of my
dissolution is at hand.
4:7. I have fought a good fight:  I have finished my course:  I have kept
4:8. As to the rest, there is laid up for me a crown of justice which
the Lord the just judge will render to me in that day:  and not only to
me, but to them also that love his coming.  Make haste to come to me
4:9. For Demas hath left me, loving this world, and is gone to
Thessalonica:
4:10. Crescens into Galatia, Titus into Dalmatia.
4:11. Only Luke is with me.  Take Mark and bring him with thee:  for he
is profitable to me for the ministry.
4:12. But Tychicus I have sent to Ephesus.
4:13. The cloak that I left at Troas, with Carpus, when thou comest,
bring with thee:  and the books, especially the parchments.
4:14. Alexander the coppersmith hath done me much evil:  the Lord will
reward him according to his works:
4:15. Whom do thou also avoid:  for he hath greatly withstood our words.
4:16. At my first answer, no man stood with me:  but all forsook me.  May
it not be laid to their charge!
4:17. But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me, that by me the
preaching may be accomplished and that all the Gentiles may hear.  And I
was delivered out of the mouth of the lion.
4:18. The Lord hath delivered me from every evil work and will preserve
me unto his heavenly kingdom.  To whom be glory for ever and ever.  Amen.
4:19. Salute Prisca, and Aquila and the household of Onesiphorus.
4:20. Erastus remained at Corinth.  And Trophimus I left sick at
4:21. Make haste to come before winter.  Eubulus and Pudens and Linus
and Claudia and all the brethren, salute thee.
4:22. The Lord Jesus Christ be with thy spirit.  Grace be with you.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO TITUS
St. Paul, having preached the faith in the island of Crete, he ordained
his beloved disciple and companion, Titus, bishop, and left him there
to finish the work which he had begun.  Afterwards the Apostle, on a
journey to Nicopolis, a city of Macedonia, wrote this Epistle to Titus,
in which he directs him to ordain bishops and priests for the different
cities, shewing him the principal qualities necessary for a bishop.  He
also gives him particular advice for his own conduct to his flock,
exhorting him to hold to strictness of discipline, but seasoned with
lenity.  It was written about thirty-three years after our Lord's
Titus Chapter 1
What kind of men he is to ordain priests.  Some men are to be sharply
1:1. Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, according
to the faith of the elect of God and the acknowledging of the truth,
which is according to godliness:
1:2. Unto the hope of life everlasting, which God, who lieth not, hath
promised before the times of the world:
1:3. But hath in due times manifested his word in preaching, which is
committed to me according to the commandment of God our Saviour:
1:4. To Titus, my beloved son according to the common faith, grace and
peace, from God the Father and from Christ Jesus our Saviour.
1:5. For this cause I left thee in Crete:  that thou shouldest set in
order the things that are wanting and shouldest ordain priests in every
city, as I also appointed thee:
1:6. If any be without crime, the husband of one wife.  having faithful
children, not accused of riot or unruly.
1:7. For a bishop must be without crime, as the steward of God:  not
proud, not subject to anger, nor given to wine, no striker, not greedy
of filthy lucre:
1:8. But given to hospitality, gentle, sober, just, holy, continent:
1:9. Embracing that faithful word which is according to doctrine, that
he may be able to exhort in sound doctrine and to convince the
1:10. For there are also many disobedient, vain talkers and seducers:
especially they who are of the circumcision.
1:11. Who must be reproved, who subvert whole houses, teaching things
which they ought not, for filthy lucre's sake.
1:12. One of them a prophet of their own, said:  The Cretans are always
liars, evil beasts, slothful bellies.
1:13. This testimony is true.  Wherefore, rebuke them sharply, that they
may be sound in the faith:
1:14. Not giving heed to Jewish fables and commandments of men who turn
themselves away from the truth.
1:15. All things are clean to the clean:  but to them that are defiled
and to unbelievers, nothing is clean:  but both their mind and their
conscience are defiled.
1:16. They profess that they know God:  but in their works they deny
him:  being abominable and incredulous and to every good work reprobate.
Titus Chapter 2
How he is to instruct both old and young.  The duty of servants.  The
Christian's rule of life.
2:1. But speak thou the things that become sound doctrine:
2:2. That the aged men be sober, chaste, prudent, sound in faith, in
love, in patience.
2:3. The aged women, in like manner, in holy attire, not false
accusers, not given to much wine, teaching well:
2:4. That they may teach the young women to be wise, to love their
husbands, to love their children.
2:5. To be discreet, chaste, sober, having a care of the house, gentle,
obedient to their husbands:  that the word of God be not blasphemed.
2:6. Young men, in like manner, exhort that they be sober.
2:7. In all things shew thyself an example of good works, in doctrine,
in integrity, in gravity,
2:8. The sound word that can not be blamed:  that he who is on the
contrary part may be afraid, having no evil to say of us.
2:9. Exhort servants to be obedient to their masters:  in all things
pleasing, not gainsaying:
2:10. Not defrauding, but in all things shewing good fidelity, that
they may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.
2:11. For the grace of God our Saviour hath appeared to all men:
2:12. Instructing us, that, denying ungodliness and worldly desires, we
should live soberly and justly and godly in this world,
2:13. Looking for the blessed hope and coming of the glory of the great
God and our Saviour Jesus Christ.
2:14. Who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all
iniquity and might cleanse to himself a people acceptable, a pursuer of
2:15. These things speak and exhort and rebuke with all authority.  Let
no man despise thee.
Titus Chapter 3
Other instructions and directions for life and doctrine.
3:1. Admonish them to be subject to princes and powers, to obey at a
word, to be ready to every good work.
3:2. To speak evil of no man, not to be litigious but gentle:  shewing
all mildness towards all men.
3:3. For we ourselves also were some time unwise, incredulous, erring,
slaves to divers desires and pleasures, living in malice and envy,
hateful and hating one another.
3:4. But when the goodness and kindness of God our Saviour appeared:
3:5. Not by the works of justice which we have done, but according to
his mercy, he saved us, by the laver of regeneration and renovation of
the Holy Ghost.
3:6. Whom he hath poured forth upon us abundantly, through Jesus Christ
our Saviour:
3:7. That, being justified by his grace, we may be heirs according to
hope of life everlasting.
3:8. It is a faithful saying.  And these things I will have thee affirm
constantly, that they who believe in God may be careful to excel in
good works.  These things are good and profitable unto men.
3:9. But avoid foolish questions and genealogies and contentions and
strivings about the law.  For they are unprofitable and vain.
3:10. A man that is a heretic, after the first and second admonition,
3:11. Knowing that he that is such an one is subverted and sinneth,
being condemned by his own judgment.
By his own judgment. . .Other offenders are judged, and cast out of the
church, by the sentence of the pastors of the same church.  Heretics,
more unhappy, run out of the church of their own accord, and by doing
so, give judgment and sentence against their own souls.
3:12. When I shall send to thee Artemas or Tychicus, make haste to come
unto me to Nicopolis.  For there I have determined to winter.
3:13. Send forward Zenas the lawyer and Apollo, with care that nothing
be wanting to them.
3:14. And let our men also learn to excel in good works for necessary
uses:  that they be not unfruitful.
3:15. All that are with me salute thee.  Salute them that love us in the
faith.  The grace of God be with you all.  Amen.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO PHILEMON
Philemon, a noble citizen of Colossa, had a servant named Onesimus, who
robbed him and fled to Rome, where he met St. Paul, who was then a
prisoner there the first time.  The apostle took compassion on him and
received him with tenderness and converted him to the faith; for he was
a Gentile before.  St. Paul sends him back to his master with this
Epistle in his favour:  and though he beseeches Philemon to pardon him,
yet the Apostle writes with becoming dignity and authority.  It contains
divers profitable instructions and points out the charity and humanity
that masters should have for their servants.
Philemon Chapter 1
He commends the faith and charity of Philemon; and sends back to him
his fugitive servant, whom he had converted in prison.
1:1. Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy, a brother:  to
Philemon, our beloved and fellow labourer,
1:2. And to Appia, our dearest sister, and to Archippus, our fellow
soldier, and to the church which is in thy house.
1:3. Grace to you and peace, from God our Father and from the Lord
Jesus Christ.
1:4. I give thanks to my God, always making a remembrance of thee in my
1:5. Hearing of thy charity and faith, which thou hast in the Lord
Jesus and towards all the saints:
1:6. That the communication of thy faith may be made evident in the
acknowledgment of every good work that is in you in Christ Jesus.
1:7. For I have had great joy and consolation in thy charity, because
the bowels of the saints have been refreshed by thee, brother.
1:8. Wherefore, though I have much confidence in Christ Jesus to
command thee that which is to the purpose:
1:9. For charity sake I rather beseech, whereas thou art such a one, as
Paul, an old man and now a prisoner also of Jesus Christ.
1:10. I beseech thee for my son, whom I have begotten in my bands,
1:11. Who hath been heretofore unprofitable to thee but now is
profitable both to me and thee:
1:12. Whom I have sent back to thee.  And do thou receive him as my own
1:13. Whom I would have retained with me, that in thy stead he might
have ministered to me in the bands of the gospel.
1:14. But without thy counsel I would do nothing:  that thy good deed
might not be as it were of necessity, but voluntary.
1:15. For perhaps he therefore departed for a season from thee that
thou mightest receive him again for ever:
1:16. Not now as a servant, but instead of a servant, a most dear
brother, especially to me.  But how much more to thee, both in the flesh
and in the Lord?
1:17. If therefore thou count me a partner, receive him as myself.
1:18. And if he hath wronged thee in any thing or is in thy debt, put
that to my account.
1:19. I Paul have written it with my own hand:  I will repay it:  not to
say to thee that thou owest me thy own self also.
1:20. Yea, brother.  May I enjoy thee in the Lord!  Refresh my bowels in
1:21. Trusting in thy obedience, I have written to thee:  knowing that
thou wilt also do more than I say.
1:22. But withal prepare me also a lodging.  For I hope that through
your prayers I shall be given unto you.
1:23. There salute thee Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus:
1:24. Mark, Aristarchus, Demas and Luke, my fellow labourers.
1:25. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.  Amen.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL TO THE HEBREWS
St. Paul wrote this Epistle to the Christians in Palestine, the most
part of whom being Jews before their conversion, they were called
Hebrews.  He exhorts them to be thoroughly converted and confirmed in
the faith of Christ, clearly shewing them the preeminence of Christ's
priesthood above the Levitical, and also the excellence of the new law
above the old.  He commends faith by the example of the ancient fathers:
and exhorts them to patience and perseverance and to remain in
fraternal charity.  It appears from chap. 13 that this Epistle was
written in Italy, and probably at Rome, about twenty-nine years after
our Lord's Ascension.
Hebrews Chapter 1
God spoke of old by the prophets, but now by his Son, who is
incomparably greater than the angels.
1:1. God, who, at sundry times and in divers manners, spoke in times
past to the fathers by the prophets, last of all,
1:2. In these days, hath spoken to us by his Son, whom he hath
appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the world.
1:3. Who being the brightness of his glory and the figure of his
substance and upholding all things by the word of his power, making
purgation of sins, sitteth on the right hand of the majesty on high:
The figure. . .that is, the express image, and most perfect resemblance.
Making purgation. . .That is, having purged away our sins by his
1:4. Being made so much better than the angels as he hath inherited a
more excellent name than they.
1:5. For to which of the angels hath he said at any time:  Thou art my
Son, to-day have I begotten thee?  And again:  I will be to him a Father,
and he shall be to me a Son?
1:6. And again, when he bringeth in the first begotten into the world,
he saith:  And let all the angels of God adore him.
1:7. And to the angels indeed he saith:  He that maketh his angels
spirits and his ministers a flame of fire.
1:8. But to the Son:  Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever:  a sceptre
of justice is the sceptre of thy kingdom.
1:9. Thou hast loved justice and hated iniquity:  therefore God, thy
God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
1:10. And:  Thou in the beginning, O Lord, didst found the earth:  and
the works of thy hands are the heavens.
1:11. They shall perish:  but thou shalt continue:  and they shall all
grow old as a garment.
1:12. And as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shalt be
changed.  But thou art the selfsame:  and thy years shall not fail.
1:13. But to which of the angels said he at any time:  Sit on my right
hand, until I make thy enemies thy footstool?
1:14. Are they not all ministering spirits, sent to minister for them
who shall receive the inheritance of salvation?
Hebrews Chapter 2
The transgression of the precepts of the Son of God is far more
condemnable than of those of the Old Testament given by angels.
2:1. Therefore ought we more diligently to observe the things which we
have heard lest perhaps we should let them slip.
2:2. For if the word spoken by angels became steadfast and every
transgression and disobedience received a just recompense of reward:
2:3. How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?  Which,
having begun to be declared by the Lord, was confirmed unto us by them
that heard him.
2:4. God also bearing them witness by signs and wonders and divers
miracles and distributions of the Holy Ghost, according to his own
2:5. For God hath not subjected unto angels the world to come, whereof
2:6. But one in a certain place hath testified, saying:  What is man,
that thou art mindful of him?  Or the son of man, that thou visitest
2:7. Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels:  thou hast
crowned him with glory and honour and hast set him over the works of
2:8. Thou hast subjected all things under his feet.  For in that he hath
subjected all things to him he left nothing not subject to him.  But now
we see not as yet all things subject to him.
2:9. But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, for
the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honour:  that, through
the grace of God he might taste death for all.
2:10. For it became him for whom are all things and by whom are all
things, who had brought many children into glory, to perfect the author
of their salvation, by his passion.
Perfect by his passion. . .By suffering, Christ was to enter into his
glory, Luke 24.26, which the apostle here calls being made perfect.
2:11. For both he that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified are all
of one.  For which cause he is not ashamed to call them brethren,
2:12. I will declare thy name to my brethren:  in the midst of the
church will I praise thee.
2:13. And again:  I will put my trust in him.  And again:  Behold I and
my children, whom God hath given me.
2:14. Therefore because the children are partakers of flesh and blood,
he also himself in like manner hath been partaker of the same:  that,
through death, he might destroy him who had the empire of death, that
is to say, the devil:
2:15. And might deliver them, who through the fear of death were all
their lifetime subject to servitude.
2:16. For nowhere doth he take hold of the angels:  but of the seed of
Abraham he taketh hold.
No where doth he, etc. . .That is, he never took upon him the nature of
angels, but that of the seed of Abraham.
2:17. Wherefore, it behoved him in all things to be made like unto his
brethren, that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest
before God, that he might be a propitiation for the sins of the people.
2:18. For in that wherein he himself hath suffered and been tempted he
is able to succour them also that are tempted.
Hebrews Chapter 3
Christ is more excellent than Moses.  Wherefore we must adhere to him by
faith and obedience.
3:1. Wherefore, holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly vocation
consider the apostle and high priest of our confession, Jesus:
3:2. Who is faithful to him that made him, as was also Moses in all his
3:3. For this man was counted worthy of greater glory than Moses, by so
much as he that hath built the house hath greater honour than the
3:4. For every house is built by some man:  but he that created all
things is God.
3:5. And Moses indeed was faithful in all his house as a servant, for a
testimony of those things which were to be said:
3:6. But Christ, as the Son in his own house:  which house are we, if we
hold fast the confidence and glory of hope unto the end.
3:7. Wherefore, as the Holy Ghost saith:  To-day if you shall hear his
3:8. Harden not your hearts, as in the provocation, in the day of
temptation in the desert,
3:9. Where your fathers tempted me, proved and saw my works,
3:10. Forty years:  for which cause I was offended with this generation,
and I said:  They always err in heart.  And they have not known my ways.
3:11. As I have sworn in my wrath:  If they shall enter into my rest.
3:12. Take heed, brethren, lest perhaps there be in any of you an evil
heart of unbelief, to depart from the living God.
3:13. But exhort one another every day, whilst it is called to day,
that none of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.
3:14. For we are made partakers of Christ:  yet so, if we hold the
beginning of his substance firm unto the end.
3:15. While it is said:  To day, if you shall hear his voice, harden not
your hearts, as in that provocation.
3:16. For some who heard did provoke:  but not all that came out of
Egypt by Moses.
3:17. And with whom was he offended forty years?  Was it not with them
that sinned, whose carcasses were overthrown in the desert?
3:18. And to whom did he swear, that they should not enter into his
rest:  but to them that were incredulous?
3:19. And we see that they could not enter in, because of unbelief.
Hebrews Chapter 4
The Christian's rest.  We are to enter into it through Jesus Christ.
4:1. Let us fear therefore lest, the promise being left of entering
into his rest, any of you should be thought to be wanting.
4:2. For unto us also it hath been declared in like manner as unto
them.  But the word of hearing did not profit them, not being mixed with
faith of those things they heard.
4:3. For we, who have believed, shall enter into rest; as he said:  As I
have sworn in my wrath:  If they shall enter into my rest; and this
indeed when the works from the foundation of the world were finished.
4:4. For in a certain place he spoke of the seventh day thus:  And God
rested the seventh day from all his works.
4:5. And in this place again:  If they shall enter into my rest.
4:6. Seeing then it remaineth that some are to enter into it, and they
to whom it was first preached did not enter because of unbelief:
4:7. Again he limiteth a certain day, saying in David; To day, after so
long a time as it is above said:  To day if you shall hear his voice,
harden not your hearts.
4:8. For if Jesus had given them rest he would never have afterwards
spoken of another day.
Jesus. . .Josue, who in Greek is called Jesus.
4:9. There remaineth therefore a day of rest for the people of God.
4:10. For he that is entered into his rest, the same also hath rested
from his works, as God did from his.
4:11. Let us hasten therefore to enter into that rest:  lest any man
fall into the same example of unbelief.
4:12. For the word of God is living and effectual and more piercing
than any two edged sword; and reaching unto the division of the soul
and the spirit, of the joints also and the marrow:  and is a discerner
of the thoughts and intents of the heart.
4:13. Neither is there any creature invisible in his sight:  but all
things are naked and open to his eyes, to whom our speech is.
4:14. Having therefore a great high priest that hath passed into the
heavens, Jesus the Son of God:  let us hold fast our confession.
4:15. For we have not a high priest who cannot have compassion on our
infirmities:  but one tempted in all things like as we are, without sin.
4:16. Let us go therefore with confidence to the throne of grace:  that
we may obtain mercy and find grace in seasonable aid.
Hebrews Chapter 5
The office of a high priest.  Christ is our high priest.
5:1. For every high priest taken from among men is ordained for men in
the things that appertain to God, that he may offer up gifts and
sacrifices for sins:
5:2. Who can have compassion on them that are ignorant and that err:
because he himself also is compassed with infirmity.
5:3. And therefore he ought, as for the people, so also for himself, to
offer for sins.
5:4. Neither doth any man take the honour to himself, but he that is
called by God, as Aaron was.
5:5. So Christ also did not glorify himself, that he might be made a
high priest:  but he that said unto him:  Thou art my Son:  this day have
I begotten thee.
5:6. As he saith also in another place:  Thou art a priest for ever,
according to the order of Melchisedech.
5:7. Who in the days of his flesh, with a strong cry and tears,
offering up prayers and supplications to him that was able to save him
from death, was heard for his reverence.
5:8. And whereas indeed he was the Son of God, he learned obedience by
the things which he suffered.
5:9. And being consummated, he became, to all that obey him, the cause
of eternal salvation:
5:10. Called by God a high priest, according to the order of
Melchisedech.
5:11. Of whom we have much to say and hard to be intelligibly uttered:
because you are become weak to hear.
5:12. For whereas for the time you ought to be masters, you have need
to be taught again what are the first elements of the words of God:  and
you are become such as have need of milk and not of strong meat.
5:13. For every one that is a partaker of milk is unskilful in the word
of justice:  for he is a little child.
5:14. But strong meat is for the perfect:  for them who by custom have
their senses exercised to the discerning of good and evil.
Hebrews Chapter 6
He warns them of the danger of falling by apostasy and exhorts them to
patience and perseverance.
6:1. Wherefore, leaving the word of the beginning of Christ, let us go
on to things more perfect:  not laying again the foundation of penance
from dead works and of faith towards God,
The word of the beginning. . .The first rudiments of the Christian
6:2. Of the doctrine of baptisms and imposition of hands, and of the
resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment.
6:3. And this will we do, if God permit.
6:4. For it is impossible for those who were once illuminated, have
tasted also the heavenly gift and were made partakers of the Holy
It is impossible, etc. . .The meaning is, that it is impossible for such
as have fallen after baptism, to be again baptized; and very hard for
such as have apostatized from the faith, after having received many
graces, to return again to the happy state from which they fell.
6:5. Have moreover tasted the good word of God and the powers of the
world to come,
6:6. And are fallen away:  to be renewed again to penance, crucifying
again to themselves the Son of God and making him a mockery.
6:7. For the earth, that drinketh in the rain which cometh often upon
it and bringeth forth herbs meet for them by whom it is tilled,
receiveth blessing from God.
6:8. But that which bringeth forth thorns and briers is reprobate and
very near unto a curse:  whose end is to be burnt.
6:9. But, my dearly beloved, we trust better things of you, and nearer
to salvation; though we speak thus.
6:10. For God is not unjust, that he should forget your work and the
love which you have shewn in his name, you who have ministered and do
minister to the saints.
6:11. And we desire that every one of you shew forth the same
carefulness to the accomplishing of hope unto the end:
6:12. That you become not slothful, but followers of them who through
faith and patience shall inherit the promises.
6:13. For God making promises to Abraham, because he had no one greater
by whom he might swear, swore by himself,
6:14. Saying:  Unless blessing I shall bless thee and multiplying I
shall multiply thee.
6:15. And so patiently enduring he obtained the promise.
6:16. For men swear by one greater than themselves:  and an oath for
confirmation is the end of all their controversy.
6:17. Wherein God, meaning more abundantly to shew to the heirs of the
promise the immutability of his counsel, interposed an oath:
6:18. That by two immutable things in which it is impossible for God to
lie, we may have the strongest comfort, we who have fled for refuge to
hold fast the hope set before us.
6:19. Which we have as an anchor of the soul, sure and firm, and which
entereth in even within the veil:
6:20. Where the forerunner Jesus is entered for us, made a high priest
for ever according to the order of Melchisedech.
Hebrews Chapter 7
The priesthood of Christ according to the order of Melchisedech excels
the Levitical priesthood and puts an end both to that and to the law.
7:1. For this Melchisedech was king of Salem, priest of the most high
God, who met Abraham returning from the slaughter of the kings and
blessed him:
7:2. To whom also Abraham divided the tithes of all:  who first indeed
by interpretation is king of justice:  and then also king of Salem, that
is, king of peace:
7:3. Without father, without mother, without genealogy, having neither
beginning of days nor end of life, but likened unto the Son of God,
continueth a priest for ever.
Without father, etc. . .Not that he had no father, etc., but that
neither his father, nor his pedigree, nor his birth, nor his death, are
set down in scripture.
7:4. Now consider how great this man is, to whom also Abraham the
patriarch gave tithes out of the principal things.
7:5. And indeed they that are of the sons of Levi, who receive the
priesthood, have a commandment to take tithes of the people according
to the law, that is to say, of their brethren:  though they themselves
also came out of the loins of Abraham.
7:6. But he, whose pedigree is not numbered among them, received tithes
of Abraham and blessed him that had the promises.
7:7. And without all contradiction, that which is less is blessed by
7:8. And here indeed, men that die receive tithes:  but there, he hath
witness that he liveth.
7:9. And (as it may be said) even Levi who received tithes paid tithes
7:10. For he was yet in the loins of his father when Melchisedech met
7:11. If then perfection was by the Levitical priesthood (for under it
the people received the law), what further need was there that another
priest should rise according to the order of Melchisedech:  and not be
called according to the order of Aaron?
7:12. For the priesthood being translated, it is necessary that a
translation also be made of the law,
7:13. For he of whom these things are spoken is of another tribe, of
which no one attended on the altar.
7:14. For it is evident that our Lord sprung out of Juda:  in which
tribe Moses spoke nothing concerning priests.
7:15. And it is yet far more evident:  if according to the similitude of
Melchisedech there ariseth another priest,
7:16. Who is made, not according to the law of a law of a carnal
commandment, but according to the power of an indissoluble life.
7:17. For he testifieth:  Thou art a priest for ever according to the
order of Melchisedech.
7:18. There is indeed a setting aside of the former commandment,
because of the weakness and unprofitableness thereof:
7:19. For the law brought nothing to perfection:  but a bringing in of a
better hope, by which we draw nigh to God.
7:20. And inasmuch as it is not without an oath (for the others indeed
were made priests without an oath:
7:21. But this with an oath, by him that said unto him:  The Lord hath
sworn and he will not repent:  Thou art a priest for ever).
7:22. By so much is Jesus made a surety of a better testament.
7:23. And the others indeed were made many priests, because by reason
of death they were not suffered to continue:
Many priests, etc. . .The apostle notes this difference between the high
priests of the law, and our high priest Jesus Christ; that they being
removed by death, made way for their successors; whereas our Lord Jesus
is a priest for ever, and hath no successor; but liveth and concurreth
for ever with his ministers, the priests of the new testament, in all
their functions.  Also, that no one priest of the law, nor all of them
together, could offer that absolute sacrifice of everlasting
redemption, which our one high priest Jesus Christ has offered once,
and for ever.
7:24. But this, for that he continueth for ever, hath an everlasting
7:25. Whereby he is able also to save for ever them that come to God by
him; always living to make intercession for us.
Make intercession. . .Christ, as man, continually maketh intercession
for us, by representing his passion to his Father.
7:26. For it was fitting that we should have such a high priest, holy,
innocent, undefiled, separated from sinners, and made higher than the
7:27. Who needeth not daily (as the other priests) to offer sacrifices,
first for his own sins, and then for the people's:  for this he did
once, in offering himself.
7:28. For the law maketh men priests, who have infirmity:  but the word
of the oath (which was since the law) the Son who is perfected for
Hebrews Chapter 8
More of the excellence of the priesthood of Christ and of the New
8:1. Now of the things which we have spoken, this is the sum:  We have
such an high priest who is set on the right hand of the throne of
majesty in the heavens,
8:2. A minister of the holies and of the true tabernacle, which the
Lord hath pitched, and not man.
The holies. . .That is, the sanctuary.
8:3. For every high priest is appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices:
wherefore it is necessary that he also should have some thing to offer.
8:4. If then he were on earth, he would not be a priest:  seeing that
there would be others to offer gifts according to the law.
If then he were on earth, etc. . .That is, if he were not of a higher
condition than the Levitical order of earthly priests, and had not
another kind of sacrifice to offer, he should be excluded by them from
the priesthood, and its functions, which by the law were appropriated
to their tribe.
8:5. Who serve unto the example and shadow of heavenly things.  As it
was answered to Moses, when he was to finish the tabernacle:  See (saith
he) that thou make all things according to the pattern which was shewn
thee on the mount.
Who serve unto, etc. . .The priesthood of the law and its functions were
a kind of an example and shadow of what is done by Christ in his church
militant and triumphant, of which the tabernacle was a pattern.
8:6. But now he hath obtained a better ministry, by how much also he is
a mediator of a better testament which is established on better
8:7. For if that former had been faultless, there should not indeed a
place have been sought for a second.
8:8. For, finding fault with them, he saith:  Behold the days shall
come, saith the Lord:  and I will perfect, unto the house of Israel and
unto the house of Juda, a new testament:
8:9. Not according to the testament which I made to their fathers, on
the day when I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land of
Egypt:  because they continued not in my testament:  and I regarded them
not, saith the Lord.
8:10. For this is the testament which I will make to the house of
Israel after those days, saith the Lord:  I will give my laws into their
mind:  and in their heart will I write them.  And I will be their God:
and they shall be my people.
8:11. And they shall not teach every man his neighbour and every man
his brother, saying:  Know the Lord.  For all shall know me, from the
least to the greatest of them.
They shall not teach, etc. . .So great shall be light and grace of the
new testament, that it shall not be necessary to inculcate to the
faithful the belief and knowledge of the true God, for they shall all
8:12. Because I will be merciful to their iniquities:  and their sins I
will remember no more.
8:13. Now in saying a new, he hath made the former old.  And that which
decayeth and groweth old is near its end.
A new. . .Supply 'covenant'.
Hebrews Chapter 9
The sacrifices of the law were far inferior to that of Christ.
9:1. The former indeed had also justifications of divine service and a
9:2. For there was a tabernacle made the first, wherein were the
candlesticks and the table and the setting forth of loaves, which is
called the Holy.
9:3. And after the second veil, the tabernacle which is called the Holy
9:4. Having a golden censer and the ark of the testament covered about
on every part with gold, in which was a golden pot that had manna and
the rod of Aaron that had blossomed and the tables of the testament.
9:5. And over it were the cherubims of glory overshadowing the
propitiatory:  of which it is not needful to speak now particularly.
9:6. Now these things being thus ordered, into the first tabernacle,
the priests indeed always entered, accomplishing the offices of
9:7. But into the second, the high priest alone, once a year:  not
without blood, which he offereth for his own and the people's
9:8. The Holy Ghost signifying this:  That the way into the Holies was
not yet made manifest, whilst the former tabernacle was yet standing.
9:9. Which is a parable of the time present:  according to which gifts
and sacrifices are offered, which cannot, as to the conscience, make
him perfect that serveth, only in meats and in drinks,
9:10. And divers washings and justices of the flesh laid on them until
the time of correction.
Of correction. . .Viz., when Christ should correct and settle all
9:11. But Christ, being come an high Priest of the good things to come,
by a greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hand, that is,
not of this creation:
9:12. Neither by the blood of goats or of calves, but by his own blood,
entered once into the Holies, having obtained eternal redemption.
Eternal redemption. . .By that one sacrifice of his blood, once offered
on the cross, Christ our Lord paid and exhibited, once for all, the
general price and ransom of all mankind:  which no other priest could
9:13. For if the blood of goats and of oxen, and the ashes of an
heifer, being sprinkled, sanctify such as are defiled, to the cleansing
of the flesh:
9:14. How much more shall the blood of Christ, who by the Holy Ghost
offered himself unspotted unto God, cleanse our conscience from dead
works, to serve the living God?
9:15. And therefore he is the mediator of the new testament:  that by
means of his death for the redemption of those transgressions which
were under the former testament, they that are called may receive the
promise of eternal inheritance.
9:16. For where there is a testament the death of the testator must of
necessity come in.
9:17. For a testament is of force after men are dead:  otherwise it is
as yet of no strength, whilst the testator liveth.
9:18. Whereupon neither was the first indeed dedicated without blood.
9:19. For when every commandment of the law had been read by Moses to
all the people, he took the blood of calves and goats, with water, and
scarlet wool and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book itself and all the
9:20. Saying:  This is the blood of the testament which God hath
enjoined unto you.
9:21. The tabernacle also and all the vessels of the ministry, in like
manner, he sprinkled with blood.
9:22. And almost all things, according to the law, are cleansed with
blood:  and without shedding of blood there is no remission.
9:23. It is necessary therefore that the patterns of heavenly things
should be cleansed with these:  but the heavenly things themselves with
better sacrifices than these.
9:24. For Jesus is not entered into the Holies made with hands, the
patterns of the true:  but into Heaven itself, that he may appear now in
the presence of God for us.
9:25. Nor yet that he should offer himself often, as the high priest
entereth into the Holies every year with the blood of others:
Offer himself often. . .Christ shall never more offer himself in
sacrifice, in that violent, painful, and bloody manner, nor can there
be any occasion for it:  since by that one sacrifice upon the cross, he
has furnished the full ransom, redemption, and remedy for all the sins
of the world.  But this hinders not that he may offer himself daily in
the sacred mysteries in an unbloody manner, for the daily application
of that one sacrifice of redemption to our souls.
9:26. For then he ought to have suffered often from the beginning of
the world.  But now once, at the end of ages, he hath appeared for the
destruction of sin by the sacrifice of himself.
9:27. And as it is appointed unto men once to die, and after this the
9:28. So also Christ was offered once to exhaust the sins of many.  The
second time he shall appear without sin to them that expect him unto
To exhaust. . .That is, to empty, or draw out to the very bottom, by a
plentiful and perfect redemption.
Hebrews Chapter 10
Because of the insufficiency of the sacrifices of the law, Christ our
high priest shed his own blood for us, offering up once for all the
sacrifice of our redemption.  He exhorts them to perseverance.
10:1. For the law, having a shadow of the good things to come, not the
very image of the things, by the selfsame sacrifices which they offer
continually every year, can never make the comers thereunto perfect.
10:2. For then they would have ceased to be offered:  because the
worshippers once cleansed should have no conscience of sin any longer.
They would have ceased. . .If they had been of themselves perfect to all
the intents of redemption and remission, as Christ's death is there
would have been no occasion of so often repeating them:  as there is no
occasion for Christ's dying any more for our sins.
10:3. But in them there is made a commemoration of sins every year:
10:4. For it is impossible that with the blood of oxen and goats sin
should be taken away.
10:5. Wherefore, when he cometh into the world he saith:  Sacrifice and
oblation thou wouldest not:  but a body thou hast fitted to me.
10:6. Holocausts for sin did not please thee.
10:7. Then said I:  Behold I come:  in the head of the book it is written
of me:  that I should do thy will, O God.
10:8. In saying before, Sacrifices, and oblations, and holocausts for
sin thou wouldest not, neither are they pleasing to thee, which are
offered according to the law.
10:9. Then said I:  Behold, I come to do thy will, O God:  He taketh away
the first, that he may establish that which followeth.
10:10. In the which will, we are sanctified by the oblation of the body
of Jesus Christ once.
10:11. And every priest indeed standeth daily ministering and often
offering the same sacrifices which can never take away sins.
10:12. But this man, offering one sacrifice for sins, for ever sitteth
on the right hand of God,
10:13. From henceforth expecting until his enemies be made his
10:14. For by one oblation he hath perfected for ever them that are
10:15. And the Holy Ghost also doth testify this to us.  For after that
10:16. And this is the testament which I will make unto them after
those days, saith the Lord.  I will give my laws in their hearts and on
their minds will I write them:
10:17. And their sins and iniquities I will remember no more.
10:18. Now, where there is a remission of these, there is no more an
oblation for sin.
There is no more an oblation for sin. . .Where there is a full remission
of sins, as in baptism, there is no more occasion for a sin offering to
be made for such sins already remitted; and as for sins committed
afterwards, they can only be remitted in virtue of the one oblation of
Christ's death.
10:19. Having therefore, brethren, a confidence in the entering into
the holies by the blood of Christ:
10:20. A new and living way which he hath dedicated for us through the
veil, that is to say, his flesh:
10:21. And a high priest over the house of God:
10:22. Let us draw near with a true heart, in fulness of faith, having
our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with
clean water.
10:23. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering
(for he is faithful that hath promised):
10:24. And let us consider one another, to provoke unto charity and to
10:25. Not forsaking our assembly, as some are accustomed:  but
comforting one anther, and so much the more as you see the day
approaching.
10:26. For if we sin wilfully after having the knowledge of the truth,
there is now left no sacrifice for sins:
If we sin wilfully. . .He speaks of the sin of wilful apostasy from the
known truth; after which, as we can not be baptized again, we can not
expect to have that abundant remission of sins, which Christ purchased
by his death, applied to our souls in that ample manner as it is in
baptism:  but we have rather all manner of reason to look for a dreadful
judgment; the more because apostates from the known truth, seldom or
never have the grace to return to it.
10:27. But a certain dreadful expectation of judgment, and the rage of
a fire which shall consume the adversaries.
10:28. A man making void the law of Moses dieth without any mercy under
two or three witnesses:
10:29. How much more, do you think he deserveth worse punishments, who
hath trodden under foot the Son of God and hath esteemed the blood of
the testament unclean, by which he was sanctified, and hath offered an
affront to the Spirit of grace?
10:30. For we know him that hath said:  Vengeance belongeth to me, and I
will repay.  And again:  The Lord shall judge his people.
10:31. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.
10:32. But call to mind the former days, wherein, being illuminated,
you endured a great fight of afflictions.
10:33. And on the one hand indeed, by reproaches and tribulations, were
made a gazingstock; and on the other, became companions of them that
were used in such sort.
10:34. For you both had compassion on them that were in bands and took
with joy the being stripped of your own goods, knowing that you have a
better and a lasting substance.
10:35. Do not therefore lose your confidence which hath a great reward.
10:36. For patience is necessary for you:  that, doing the will of God,
you may receive the promise.
10:37. For yet a little and a very little while, and he that is to come
will come and will not delay.
10:38. But my just man liveth by faith:  but if he withdraw himself, he
shall not please my soul.
10:39. But we are not the children of withdrawing unto perdition, but
of faith to the saving of the soul.
Hebrews Chapter 11
What faith is.  Its wonderful fruits and efficacy demonstrated in the
11:1. Now, faith is the substance of things to be hoped for, the
evidence of things that appear not.
11:2. For by this the ancients obtained a testimony.
11:3. By faith we understand that the world was framed by the word of
God:  that from invisible things visible things might be made.
11:4. By faith Abel offered to God a sacrifice exceeding that of Cain,
by which he obtained a testimony that he was just, God giving testimony
to his gifts.  And by it he being dead yet speaketh.
11:5. By faith Henoch was translated that he should not see death:  and
he was not found because God had translated him.  For before his
translation he had testimony that he pleased God.
11:6. But without faith it is impossible to please God.  For he that
cometh to God must believe that he is:  and is a rewarder to them that
11:7. By faith Noe, having received an answer concerning those things
which as yet were not seen, moved with fear, framed the ark for the
saving of his house:  by the which he condemned the world and was
instituted heir of the justice which is by faith.
11:8. By faith he that is called Abraham obeyed to go out into a place
which he was to receive for an inheritance.  And he went out, not
knowing whither he went.
He that is called Abraham. . .or, Abraham being called.
11:9. By faith he abode in the land of promise, as in a strange
country, dwelling in cottages, with Isaac and Jacob, the co-heirs of
the same promise.
11:10. For he looked for a city that hath foundations:  whose builder
and maker is God.
11:11. By faith also Sara herself, being barren, received strength to
conceive seed, even past the time of age:  because she believed that he
was faithful who had promised,
11:12. For which cause there sprung even from one (and him as good as
dead) as the stars of heaven in multitude and as the sand which is by
the sea shore innumerable.
11:13. All these died according to faith, not having received the
promises but beholding them afar off and saluting them and confessing
that they are pilgrims and strangers on the earth.
11:14. For they that say these things do signify that they seek a
11:15. And truly, if they had been mindful of that from whence they
came out, they had doubtless, time to return.
11:16. But now they desire a better, that is to say, a heavenly
country.  Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God:  for he
hath prepared for them a city.
11:17. By faith Abraham, when he was tried, offered Isaac:  and he that
had received the promises offered up his only begotten son,
11:18. (To whom it was said:  In Isaac shalt thy seed be called:)
11:19. Accounting that God is able to raise up even from the dead.
Whereupon also he received him for a parable.
For a parable. . .That is, as a figure of Christ, slain and coming to
11:20. By faith also of things to come Isaac blessed Jacob and Esau.
11:21. By faith Jacob, dying, blessed each of the sons of Joseph and
adored the top of his rod.
Adored the top of his rod. . .The apostle here follows the ancient Greek
Bible of the seventy interpreters, (which translates in this manner,
Gen. 47. 31.,) and alleges this fact of Jacob, in paying a relative
honour and veneration to the top of the rod or sceptre of Joseph, as to
a figure of Christ's sceptre and kingdom, as an instance and argument
of his faith.  But some translators, who are no friends to this relative
honour, have corrupted the text, by translating it, he worshipped,
leaning upon the top of his staff; as if this circumstance of leaning
upon his staff were any argument of Jacob's faith, or worthy the being
thus particularly taken notice of by the Holy Ghost.
11:22. By faith Joseph, when he was dying, made mention of the going
out of the children of Israel and gave commandment concerning his
11:23. By faith Moses, when he was born, was hid three months by his
parents:  because they saw he was a comely babe, and they feared not the
king's edict.
11:24. By faith Moses, when he was grown up, denied himself to be the
son of Pharao's daughter:
11:25. Rather choosing to be afflicted with the people of God than to
have the pleasure of sin for a time:
11:26. Esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the
treasure of the Egyptians.  For he looked unto the reward.
11:27. By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the fierceness of the king:
for he endured, as seeing him that is invisible.
11:28. By faith he celebrated the pasch and the shedding of the blood:
that he who destroyed the firstborn might not touch them.
11:29. By faith they passed through the Red Sea, as by dry land:  which
the Egyptians attempting, were swallowed up.
11:30. By faith the walls of Jericho fell down, by the going round them
11:31. By faith Rahab the harlot perished not with the unbelievers,
receiving the spies with peace.
11:32. And what shall I yet say?  For the time would fail me to tell of
Gedeon, Barac, Samson, Jephthe, David, Samuel, and the prophets:
11:33. Who by faith conquered kingdoms, wrought justice, obtained
promises, stopped the mouths of lions,
11:34. Quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword,
recovered strength from weakness, became valiant in battle, put to
flight the armies of foreigners.
11:35. Women received their dead raised to life again.  But others were
racked, not accepting deliverance, that they might find a better
resurrection.
11:36. And others had trial of mockeries and stripes:  moreover also of
bands and prisons.
11:37. They were stoned, they were cut asunder, they were tempted, they
were put to death by the sword, they wandered about in sheepskins, in
goatskins, being in want, distressed, afflicted:
11:38. Of whom the world was not worthy:  wandering in deserts, in
mountains and in dens and in caves of the earth.
11:39. And all these, being approved by the testimony of faith,
received not the promise:
11:40. God providing some better thing for us, that they should not be
perfected without us.
Hebrews Chapter 12
Exhortation to constancy under their crosses.  The danger of abusing the
graces of the New Testament.
12:1. And therefore we also having so great a cloud of witnesses over
our head, laying aside every weight and sin which surrounds us, let us
run by patience to the fight proposed to us:
12:2. Looking on Jesus, the author and finisher of faith, who, having
joy set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and now
sitteth on the right hand of the throne of God.
12:3. For think diligently upon him that endured such opposition from
sinners against himself that you be not wearied, fainting in your
12:4. For you have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin.
12:5. And you have forgotten the consolation which speaketh to you, as
unto children, saying:  My son, neglect not the discipline of the Lord:
neither be thou wearied whilst thou art rebuked by him.
12:6. For whom the Lord loveth he chastiseth:  and he scourgeth every
son whom he receiveth.
12:7. Persevere under discipline.  God dealeth with you as with his
sons.  For what son is there whom the father doth not correct?
12:8. But if you be without chastisement, whereof all are made
partakers, then are you bastards and not sons.
12:9. Moreover, we have had fathers of our flesh for instructors, and
we reverenced them.  Shall we not much more obey the Father of spirits
12:10. And they indeed for a few days, according to their own pleasure,
instructed us:  but he, for our profit, that we might receive his
sanctification.
12:11. Now all chastisement for the present indeed seemeth not to bring
with it joy, but sorrow:  but afterwards it will yield to them that are
exercised by it the most peaceable fruit of justice.
12:12. Wherefore, lift up the hands which hang down and the feeble
12:13. And make straight steps with your feet:  that no one, halting,
may go out of the way; but rather be healed.
12:14. Follow peace with all men and holiness:  without which no man
shall see God.
12:15. Looking diligently, lest any man be wanting to the grace of God:
lest any root of bitterness springing up do hinder and by it many be
12:16. Lest there be any fornicator or profane person, as Esau who for
one mess sold his first birthright.
12:17. For know ye that afterwards, when he desired to inherit the
benediction, he was rejected.  For he found no place of repentance,
although with tears he had sought it.
He found, etc. . .That is, he found no way to bring his father to
repent, or change his mind, with relation to his having given the
blessing to his younger brother Jacob.
12:18. For you are not come to a mountain that might be touched and a
burning fire and a whirlwind and darkness and storm,
12:19. And the sound of a trumpet and the voice of words, which they
that had excused themselves, that the word might not be spoken to them.
12:20. For they did not endure that which was said:  and if so much as a
beast shall touch the mount, it shall be stoned.
12:21. And so terrible was that which was seen, Moses said:  I am
frighted, and tremble.
12:22. But you are come to mount Sion and to the city of the living
God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to the company of many thousands of
12:23. And to the church of the firstborn who are written in the
heavens, and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of the just
made perfect,
12:24. And to Jesus the mediator of the new testament, and to the
sprinkling of blood which speaketh better than that of Abel.
12:25. See that you refuse him not that speaketh.  For if they escaped
not who refused him that spoke upon earth, much more shall not we that
turn away from him that speaketh to us from heaven.
12:26. Whose voice then moved the earth; but now he promiseth, saying:
Yet once more:  and I will move, not only the earth, but heaven also.
12:27. And in that he saith:  Yet once more, he signifieth the
translation of the moveable things as made, that those things may
remain which are immoveable.
12:28. Therefore, receiving an immoveable kingdom, we have grace:
whereby let us serve, pleasing God, with fear and reverence.
12:29. For our God is a consuming fire.
Hebrews Chapter 13
Divers admonitions and exhortations.
13:1. Let the charity of the brotherhood abide in you.
13:2. And hospitality do not forget:  for by this some, being not aware
of it, have entertained angels.
13:3. Remember them that are in bands, as if you were bound with them:
and them that labour, as being yourselves also in the body.
13:4. Marriage honourable in all, and the bed undefiled.  For
fornicators and adulterers God will judge.
Or, Let marriage be honourable in all. . .That is, in all things
belonging to the marriage state.  This is a warning to married people,
not to abuse the sanctity of their state, by any liberties or
irregularities contrary thereunto.  Now it does not follow from this
text that all persons are obliged to marry, even if the word omnibus
were rendered, in all persons, instead of in all things:  for if it was
a precept, St. Paul himself would have transgressed it, as he never
married.  Moreover, those who have already made a vow to God to lead a
single life, should they attempt to marry, they would incur their own
damnation.  1 Tim. 5. 12.
13:5. Let your manners be without covetousness, contented with such
things as you have.  For he hath said:  I will not leave thee:  neither
will I forsake thee.
13:6. So that we may confidently say:  The Lord is my helper:  I will not
fear what man shall do to me.
13:7. Remember your prelates who have spoken the word of God to you:
whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation,
13:8. Jesus Christ, yesterday, and today:  and the same for ever.
13:9. Be not led away with various and strange doctrines.  For it is
best that the heart be established with grace, not with meats:  which
have not profited those that walk in them.
13:10. We have an altar whereof they have no power to eat who serve the
13:11. For the bodies of those beasts whose blood is brought into the
holies by the high priest for sin are burned without the camp.
13:12. Wherefore Jesus also, that he might sanctify the people by his
own blood, suffered without the gate.
13:13. Let us go forth therefore to him without the camp, bearing his
Let us go forth therefore to him without the camp, bearing his
reproach. . .That is, bearing his cross.  It is an exhortation to them to
be willing to suffer with Christ, reproaches, persecutions, and even
death, if they desire to partake of the benefit of his suffering for
man's redemption.
13:14. For, we have not here a lasting city:  but we seek one that is to
13:15. By him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise always to
God, that is to say, the fruit of lips confessing to his name.
13:16. And do not forget to do good and to impart:  for by such
sacrifices God's favour is obtained.
13:17. Obey your prelates and be subject to them.  For they watch as
being to render an account of your souls:  that they may do this with
joy and not with grief.  For this is not expedient for you.
13:18. Pray for us.  For we trust we have a good conscience, being
willing to behave ourselves well in all things.
13:19. And I beseech you the more to do this, that I may be restored to
you the sooner.
13:20. And may the God of peace, who brought again from the dead the
great pastor of the sheep, our Lord Jesus Christ, in the blood of the
everlasting testament,
13:21. Fit you in all goodness, that you may do his will; doing in you
that which is well pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom
is glory for ever and ever.  Amen.
13:22. And I beseech you, brethren, that you suffer this word of
consolation.  For I have written to you in a few words.
13:23. Know ye that our brother Timothy is set at liberty:  with whom
(if he come shortly) I will see you.
13:24. Salute all your prelates and all the saints.  The brethren from
Italy salute you.
13:25. Grace be with you all.  Amen.
THE CATHOLIC EPISTLE OF ST. JAMES THE APOSTLE
This Epistle is called Catholic or Universal, as formerly were also the
two Epistles of St. Peter, the first of St. John and that of St. Jude,
because they were not written to any peculiar people or particular
person, but to the faithful in general.  It was written by the apostle
St. James, called the Less, who was also called the brother of our
Lord, being his kinsman (for cousins german with the Hebrews were
called brothers).  He was the first Bishop of Jerusalem.  In this Epistle
are set forth many precepts appertaining to faith and morals;
particularly, that faith without good works will not save a man and
that true wisdom is given only from above.  In the fifth chapter he
publishes the sacrament of anointing the sick.  It was written a short
time before his martyrdom, about twenty-eight years after our Lord's
James Chapter 1
The benefit of tribulations.  Prayer with faith.  God is the author of
all good, but not of evil.  We must be slow to anger and not hearers
only, but doers of the word.  Of bridling the tongue and of pure
1:1. James, the servant of God and of our Lord Jesus Christ, to the
twelve tribes which are scattered abroad, greeting.
1:2. My brethren, count it all joy, when you shall fall into divers
temptations:
Into divers temptations. . .The word temptation, in this epistle, is
sometimes taken for trials by afflictions or persecutions, as in this
place:  at other times, it is to be understood, tempting, enticing, or
drawing others into sin.
1:3. Knowing that the trying of your faith worketh patience
1:4. And patience hath a perfect work:  that you may be perfect and
entire, failing in nothing.
1:5. But if any of you want wisdom, let him ask of God who giveth to
all men abundantly and upbraideth not.  And it shall be given him.
1:6. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering.  For he that wavereth
is like a wave of the sea, which is moved and carried about by the
1:7. Therefore let not that man think that he shall receive any thing
of the Lord.
1:8. A double minded man is inconstant in all his ways.
1:9. But let the brother of low condition glory in his exaltation:
1:10. And the rich, in his being low:  because as the flower of the
grass shall he pass away.
1:11. For the sun rose with a burning heat and parched the grass:  and
the flower thereof fell off, and the beauty of the shape thereof
perished.  So also shall the rich man fade away in his ways.
1:12. Blessed is the man that endureth temptation:  for, when he hath
been proved, he shall receive the crown of life which God hath promised
to them that love him.
1:13. Let no man, when he is tempted, say that he is tempted by God.
For God is not a tempter of evils:  and he tempteth no man.
1:14. But every man is tempted by his own concupiscence, being drawn
away and allured.
1:15. Then, when concupiscence hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin.
But sin, when it is completed, begetteth death.
1:16. Do not err, therefore, my dearest brethren.
1:17. Every best gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down
from the Father of lights, with whom there is no change nor shadow of
1:18. For of his own will hath he begotten us by the word of truth,
that we might be some beginning of his creature.
Some beginning. . .That is, a kind of first fruits of his creatures.
1:19. You know, my dearest brethren.  And let every man be swift to
hear, but slow to speak and slow to anger.
1:20. For the anger of man worketh not the justice of God.
1:21. Wherefore, casting away all uncleanness and abundance of
naughtiness, with meekness receive the ingrafted word, which is able to
save your souls.
1:22. But be ye doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving your
1:23. For if a man be a hearer of the word and not a doer, he shall be
compared to a man beholding his own countenance in a glass.
1:24. For he beheld himself and went his way and presently forgot what
manner of man he was.
1:25. But he that hath looked into the perfect law of liberty and hath
continued therein, not becoming a forgetful hearer but a doer of the
work:  this man shall be blessed in his deed.
1:26. And if any man think himself to be religious, not bridling his
tongue but deceiving his own heart, this man's religion is vain.
1:27. Religion clean and undefiled before God and the Father is this:
to visit the fatherless and widows in their tribulation and to keep
one's self unspotted from this world.
James Chapter 2
Against respect of persons.  The danger of transgressing one point of
the law.  Faith is dead without works.
2:1. My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ of glory,
with respect of persons.
With respect of persons. . .The meaning is, that in matters relating to
faith, the administering of the sacraments, and other spiritual
functions in God's church, there should be no respect of persons; but
that the souls of the poor should be as much regarded as those of the
rich.  See Deut. 1.17.
2:2. For if there shall come into your assembly a man having a golden
ring, in fine apparel; and there shall come in also a poor man in mean
2:3. And you have respect to him that is clothed with the fine apparel
and shall say to him:  Sit thou here well:  but say to the poor man:
Stand thou there, or:  Sit under my footstool:
2:4. Do you not judge within yourselves, and are become judges of
unjust thoughts?
2:5. Hearken, my dearest brethren:  Hath not God chosen the poor in this
world, rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which God hath promised
to them that love him?
2:6. But you have dishonoured the poor man.  Do not the rich oppress you
by might?  And do not they draw you before the judgment seats?
2:7. Do not they blaspheme the good name that is invoked upon you?
2:8. If then you fulfil the royal law, according to the scriptures:
Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself; you do well.
2:9. But if you have respect to persons, you commit sin, being reproved
by the law as transgressors.
2:10. And whosoever shall keep the whole law, but offend in one point,
is become guilty of all.
Guilty of all;. . .That is, he becomes a transgressor of the law in such
a manner, that the observing of all other points will not avail him to
salvation; for he despises the lawgiver, and breaks through the great
and general commandment of charity, even by one mortal sin.  For all the
precepts of the law are to be considered as one total and entire law,
and as it were a chain of precepts, where, by breaking one link of this
chain, the whole chain is broken, or the integrity of the law
consisting of a collection of precepts.  A sinner, therefore, by a
grievous offence against any one precept, incurs eternal punishment;
yet the punishment in hell shall be greater for those who have been
greater sinners, as a greater reward shall be for those in heaven who
have lived with greater sanctity and perfection.
2:11. For he that said:  Thou shalt not commit adultery, said also:  Thou
shalt not kill.  Now if thou do not commit adultery, but shalt kill,
thou art become a transgressor of the law.
2:12. So speak ye and so do, as being to be judged by the law of
2:13. For judgment without mercy to him that hath not done mercy.  And
mercy exalteth itself above judgment.
2:14. What shall it profit, my brethren, if a man say he hath faith,
but hath not works?  Shall faith be able to save him?
2:15. And if a brother or sister be naked and want daily food:
2:16. And one of you say to them:  Go in peace, be ye warmed and filled;
yet give them not those things that are necessary for the body, what
shall it profit?
2:17. So faith also, if it have not works, is dead in itself.
2:18. But some man will say:  Thou hast faith, and I have works.  Shew me
thy faith without works; and I will shew thee, by works, my faith.
2:19. Thou believest that there is one God.  Thou dost well:  the devils
also believe and tremble.
2:20. But wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead?
2:21. Was not Abraham our father justified by works, offering up Isaac
his son upon the altar?
2:22. Seest thou that faith did cooperate with his works and by works
faith was made perfect?
2:23. And the scripture was fulfilled, saying:  Abraham believed God,
and it was reputed to him to justice, and he was called the friend of
2:24. Do you see that by works a man is justified, and not by faith
2:25. And in like manner also Rahab the harlot, was not she justified
by works, receiving the messengers and sending them out another way?
2:26. For even as the body without the spirit is dead:  so also faith
without works is dead.
James Chapter 3
Of the evils of the tongue.  Of the difference between the earthly and
heavenly wisdom.
3:1. Be ye not many masters, my brethren, knowing that you receive the
greater judgment.
3:2. For in many things we all offend.  If any man offend not in word,
the same is a perfect man.  He is able also with a bridle to lead about
the whole body.
3:3. For if we put bits into the mouths of horses, that they may obey
us:  and we turn about their whole body.
3:4. Behold also ships, whereas they are great and are driven by strong
winds, yet are they turned about with a small helm, whithersoever the
force of the governor willeth.
3:5. Even so the tongue is indeed a little member and boasteth great
things.  Behold how small a fire kindleth a great wood.
3:6. And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity.  The tongue is
placed among our members, which defileth the whole body and inflameth
the wheel of our nativity, being set on fire by hell.
3:7. For every nature of beasts and of birds and of serpents and of the
rest is tamed and hath been tamed, by the nature of man.
3:8. But the tongue no man can tame, an unquiet evil, full of deadly
3:9. By it we bless God and the Father:  and by it we curse men who are
made after the likeness of God.
3:10. Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing.  My
brethren, these things ought not so to be.
3:11. Doth a fountain send forth, out of the same hole, sweet and
bitter water?
3:12. Can the fig tree, my brethren, bear grapes?  Or the vine, figs?  So
neither can the salt water yield sweet.
3:13. Who is a wise man and endued with knowledge, among you?  Let him
shew, by a good contestation, his work in the meekness of wisdom.
3:14. But if you have bitter zeal, and there be contention in your
hearts:  glory not and be not liars against the truth.
3:15. For this is not wisdom, descending from above:  but earthly,
sensual, devilish.
3:16. For where envying and contention is:  there is inconstancy and
every evil work.
3:17. But the wisdom that is from above, first indeed is chaste, then
peaceable, modest, easy to be persuaded, consenting to the good, full
of mercy and good fruits, without judging, without dissimulation.
3:18. And the fruit of justice is sown in peace, to them that make
James Chapter 4
The evils that flow from yielding to concupiscence and being friends to
this world.  Admonitions against pride, detraction and the like.
4:1. From whence are wars and contentions among you?  Are they not
hence, from your concupiscences, which war in your members?
4:2. You covet, and have not:  you kill and envy and cannot obtain.  You
contend and war, and you have not:  because you ask not.
4:3. You ask and receive not:  because you ask amiss, that you may
consume it on your concupiscences.
4:4. Adulterers, know you not that the friendship of this world is the
enemy of God?  Whosoever therefore will be a friend of this world
becometh an enemy of God.
4:5. Or do you think that the scripture saith in vain:  To envy doth the
spirit covet which dwelleth in you?
4:6. But he giveth greater grace.  Wherefore he saith:  God resisteth the
proud and giveth grace to the humble.
4:7. Be subject therefore to God.  But resist the devil:  and he will fly
4:8. Draw nigh to God:  and he will draw nigh to you.  Cleanse your
hands, ye sinners, and purify your hearts, ye double minded.
4:9. Be afflicted and mourn and weep:  let your laughter be turned into
mourning and your joy into sorrow.
4:10. Be humbled in the sight of the Lord:  and he will exalt you.
4:11. Detract not one another, my brethren.  He that detracteth his
brother, or he that judgeth his brother, detracteth the law and judgeth
the law.  But if thou judge the law, thou art not a doer of the law, but
4:12. There is one lawgiver and judge, that is able to destroy and to
4:13. But who art thou that judgest thy neighbour?  Behold, now you that
say:  To-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city, and there we will
spend a year and will traffic and make our gain.
4:14. Whereas you know not what shall be on the morrow.
4:15. For what is your life?  It is a vapour which appeareth for a
little while and afterwards shall vanish away.  For that you should say:
If the Lord will, and, If we shall live, we will do this or that.
4:16. But now you rejoice in your arrogancies.  All such rejoicing is
4:17. To him therefore who knoweth to do good and doth it not, to him
James Chapter 5
A woe to the rich that oppress the poor.  Exhortations to patience and
to avoid swearing.  Of the anointing the sick, confession of sins and
fervour in prayer.
5:1. Go to now, ye rich men:  weep and howl in your miseries, which
shall come upon you.
5:2. Your riches are corrupted:  and your garments are motheaten.
5:3. Your gold and silver is cankered:  and the rust of them shall be
for a testimony against you and shall eat your flesh like fire.  You
have stored up to yourselves wrath against the last days.
5:4. Behold the hire of the labourers who have reaped down your fields,
which by fraud has been kept back by you, crieth:  and the cry of them
hath entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth.
5:5. You have feasted upon earth:  and in riotousness you have nourished
your hearts, in the day of slaughter.
5:6. You have condemned and put to death the Just One:  and he resisted
5:7. Be patient therefore, brethren, until the coming of the Lord.
Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth:
patiently bearing till he receive the early and latter rain.
5:8. Be you therefore also patient and strengthen your hearts:  for the
coming of the Lord is at hand.
5:9. Grudge not, brethren, one against another, that you may not be
judged.  Behold the judge standeth before the door.
5:10. Take, my brethren, for example of suffering evil, of labour and
patience, the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.
5:11. Behold, we account them blessed who have endured.  You have heard
of the patience of Job and you have seen the end of the Lord, that the
Lord is merciful and compassionate.
5:12. But above all things, my brethren, swear not, neither by heaven,
nor by the earth, nor by any other oath.  But let your speech be:  Yea,
Yea:  No, No:  that you fall not under judgment.
5:13. Is any of you sad?  Let him pray:  Is he cheerful in mind?  Let him
5:14. Is any man sick among you?  Let him bring in the priests of the
church and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name
of the Lord.
Let him bring in, etc. . .See here a plain warrant of scripture for the
sacrament of extreme unction, that any controversy against its
institution would be against the express words of the sacred text in
the plainest terms.
5:15. And the prayer of faith shall save the sick man.  And the Lord
shall raise him up:  and if he be in sins, they shall be forgiven him.
5:16. Confess therefore your sins one to another:  and pray one for
another, that you may be saved.  For the continual prayer of a just man
availeth much.
Confess your sins one to another. . .That is, to the priests of the
church, whom (ver.14) he had ordered to be called for, and brought in
to the sick; moreover, to confess to persons who had no power to
forgive sins, would be useless.  Hence the precept here means, that we
must confess to men whom God hath appointed, and who, by their
ordination and jurisdiction, have received the power of remitting sins
in his name.
5:17. Elias was a man passible like unto us:  and with prayer he prayed
that it might not rain upon the earth.  And it rained not for three
years and six months.
5:18. And he prayed again.  And the heaven gave rain:  and the earth
brought forth her fruit.
5:19. My brethren, if any of you err from the truth and one convert
5:20. He must know that he who causeth a sinner to be converted from
the error of his way shall save his soul from death and shall cover a
multitude of sins.
THE FIRST EPISTLE OF ST. PETER THE APOSTLE
The first Epistle of St. Peter, though brief, contains much doctrine
concerning Faith, Hope, and Charity, with divers instructions to all
persons of what state or condition soever.  The Apostle commands
submission to rulers and superiors and exhorts all to the practice of a
virtuous life in imitation, of Christ.  This Epistle is written with
such apostolical dignity as to manifest the supreme authority with
which its writer, the Prince of the Apostles, had been vested by his
Lord and Master, Jesus Christ.  He wrote it at Rome, which figuratively
he calls Babylon, about fifteen years after our Lord's Ascension.
1 Peter Chapter 1
He gives thanks to God for the benefit of our being called to the true
faith and to eternal life, into which we are to enter by many
tribulations.  He exhorts to holiness of life, considering the holiness
of God and our redemption by the blood of Christ.
1:1. Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, to the strangers dispersed
through Pontus, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia, elect,
1:2. According to the foreknowledge of God the Father, unto the
sanctification of the Spirit, unto obedience and sprinkling of the
blood of Jesus Christ.  Grace unto you and peace be multiplied.
1:3. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who
according to his great mercy hath regenerated us unto a lively hope, by
the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead:
1:4. Unto an inheritance, incorruptible, and undefiled and that cannot
fade, reserved in heaven for you,
1:5. Who, by the power of God, are kept by faith unto salvation, ready
to be revealed in the last time.
1:6. Wherein you shalt greatly rejoice, if now you must be for a little
time made sorrowful in divers temptations:
1:7. That the trial of your faith (much more precious than gold which
is tried by the fire) may be found unto praise and glory and honour at
the appearing of Jesus Christ.
1:8. Whom having not seen, you love:  in whom also now though you see
him not, you believe and, believing, shall rejoice with joy unspeakable
and glorified;
1:9. Receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls.
1:10. Of which salvation the prophets have inquired and diligently
searched, who prophesied of the grace to come in you.
1:11. Searching what or what manner of time the Spirit of Christ in
them did signify, when it foretold those sufferings that are in Christ
and the glories that should follow.
1:12. To whom it was revealed that, not to themselves but to you, they
ministered those things which are now declared to you by them that have
preached the gospel to you:  the Holy Ghost being sent down from heaven,
on whom the angels desire to look.
1:13. Wherefore, having the loins of your mind girt up, being sober,
trust perfectly in the grace which is offered you in the revelation of
Jesus Christ.
1:14. As children of obedience, not fashioned according to the former
desires of your ignorance,
1:15. But according to him that hath called you, who is holy, be you
also in all manner of conversation holy:
1:16. Because it is written:  You shall be holy, for I am holy.
1:17. And if you invoke as Father him who, without respect of persons,
judgeth according to every one's work:  converse in fear during the time
of your sojourning here.
1:18. Knowing that you were not redeemed with corruptible things, as
gold or silver, from your vain conversation of the tradition of your
1:19. But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb unspotted and
1:20. Foreknown indeed before the foundation of the world, but
manifested in the last times for you:
1:21. Who through him are faithful in God who raised him up from the
dead and hath given him glory, that your faith and hope might be in
1:22. Purifying your souls in the obedience of charity, with a
brotherly love, from a sincere heart love one another earnestly:
1:23. Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but incorruptible, by
the word of God who liveth and remaineth for ever.
1:24. For all flesh is as grass and all the glory thereof as the flower
of grass.  The grass is withered and the flower thereof is fallen away.
1:25. But the word of the Lord endureth for ever.  And this is the word
which by the gospel hath been preached unto you.
1 Peter Chapter 2
We are to lay aside all guile and go to Christ the living stone, and,
as being now his people, walk worthily of him, with submission to
superiors and patience under sufferings.
2:1. Wherefore laying away all malice and all guile and dissimulations
and envies and all detractions,
2:2. As newborn babes, desire the rational milk without guile, that
thereby you may grow unto salvation:
2:3. If so be you have tasted that the Lord is sweet.
2:4. Unto whom coming, as to a living stone, rejected indeed by men but
chosen and made honourable by God:
2:5. Be you also as living stones built up, a spiritual house, a holy
priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by
Jesus Christ.
2:6. Wherefore it is said in the scripture:  Behold, I lay in Sion a
chief corner stone, elect, precious.  And he that shall believe in him
shall not be confounded.
2:7. To you therefore that believe, he is honour:  but to them that
believe not, the stone which the builders rejected, the same is made
the head of the corner:
2:8. And a stone of stumbling and a rock of scandal, to them who
stumble at the word, neither do believe, whereunto also they are set.
2:9. But you are a chosen generation, a kingly priesthood, a holy
nation, a purchased people:  that you may declare his virtues, who hath
called you out of darkness into his marvelous light:
2:10. Who in times past were not a people:  but are now the people of
God.  Who had not obtained mercy:  but now have obtained mercy.
2:11. Dearly beloved, I beseech you, as strangers and pilgrims, to
refrain yourselves from carnal desires which war against the soul,
2:12. Having your conversation good among the Gentiles:  that whereas
they speak against you as evildoers, they may, by the good works which
they shall behold in you, glorify God in the day of visitation.
2:13. Be ye subject therefore to every human creature for God's sake:
whether it be to the king as excelling,
2:14. Or to governors as sent by him for the punishment of evildoers
and for the praise of the good.
2:15. For so is the will of God, that by doing well you may put to
silence the ignorance of foolish men:
2:16. As free and not as making liberty a cloak for malice, but as the
servants of God.
2:17. Honour all men.  Love the brotherhood.  Fear God.  Honour the king.
2:18. Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear, not only to
the good and gentle but also to the froward.
2:19. For this is thankworthy:  if, for conscience towards God, a man
endure sorrows, suffering wrongfully.
2:20. For what glory is it, if, committing sin and being buffeted for
it, you endure?  But if doing well you suffer patiently:  this is
thankworthy before God.
2:21. For unto this are you called:  because Christ also suffered for
us, leaving you an example that you should follow his steps.
2:22. Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth.
2:23. Who, when he was reviled, did not revile:  when he suffered, he
threatened not, but delivered himself to him that judged him unjustly.
2:24. Who his own self bore our sins in his body upon the tree:  that
we, being dead to sins, should live to justice:  by whose stripes you
were healed.
2:25. For you were as sheep going astray:  but you are now converted to
the shepherd and bishop of your souls.
1 Peter Chapter 3
How wives are to behave to their husbands.  What ornaments they are to
seek.  Exhortations to divers Virtues.
3:1. In like manner also, let wives be subject to their husbands:  that,
if any believe not the word, they may be won without the word, by the
conversation of the wives,
3:2. Considering your chaste conversation with fear.
3:3. Whose adorning, let it not be the outward plaiting of the hair, or
the wearing of gold, or the putting on of apparel:
3:4. But the hidden man of the heart, in the incorruptibility of a
quiet and a meek spirit which is rich in the sight of God.
3:5. For after this manner heretofore, the holy women also who trusted
in God adorned themselves, being in subjection to their own husbands:
3:6. As Sara obeyed Abraham, calling him lord:  whose daughters you are,
doing well and not fearing any disturbance.
3:7. Ye husbands, likewise dwelling with them according to knowledge,
giving honour to the female as to the weaker vessel and as to the
co-heirs of the grace of life:  that your prayers be not hindered.
3:8. And in fine, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of
another, being lovers of the brotherhood, merciful, modest, humble:
3:9. Not rendering evil for evil, nor railing for railing, but
contrariwise, blessing:  for unto this are you called, that you may
inherit a blessing.
3:10. For he that will love life and see good days, let him refrain his
tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile.
3:11. Let him decline from evil and do good:  Let him seek after peace
and pursue it:
3:12. Because the eyes of the Lord are upon the just, and his ears unto
their prayers but the countenance of the Lord upon them that do evil
3:13. And who is he that can hurt you, if you be zealous of good?
3:14. But if also you suffer any thing for justice' sake, blessed are
ye.  And be not afraid of their fear:  and be not troubled.
3:15. But sanctify the Lord Christ in your hearts, being ready always
to satisfy every one that asketh you a reason of that hope which is in
3:16. But with modesty and fear, having a good conscience:  that whereas
they speak evil of you, they may be ashamed who falsely accuse your
good conversation in Christ.
3:17. For it is better doing well (if such be the will of God) to
suffer than doing ill.
3:18. Because Christ also died once for our sins, the just for the
unjust:  that he might offer us to God, being put to death indeed in the
flesh, but enlivened in the spirit,
3:19. In which also coming he preached to those spirits that were in
Spirits that were in prison. . .See here a proof of a third place, or
middle state of souls:  for these spirits in prison, to whom Christ went
to preach, after his death, were not in heaven; nor yet in the hell of
the damned:  because heaven is no prison:  and Christ did not go to
preach to the damned.
3:20. Which had been some time incredulous, when they waited for the
patience of God in the days of Noe, when the ark was a building:
wherein a few, that is, eight souls, were saved by water.
3:21. Whereunto baptism, being of the like form, now saveth you also:
not the putting away of the filth of the flesh, but, the examination of
a good conscience towards God by the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Whereunto baptism, etc. . .Baptism is said to be of the like form with
the water by which Noe was saved, because the one was a figure of the
other.  Not the putting away, etc. . .As much as to say, that baptism
has not its efficacy, in order to salvation, from its washing away any
bodily filth or dirt; but from its purging the conscience from sin,
when accompanied with suitable dispositions in the party, to answer the
interrogations made at that time, with relation to faith, the
renouncing of Satan with all his works; and the obedience to God's
commandments.
3:22. Who is on the right hand of God, swallowing down death that we
might be made heirs of life everlasting:  being gone into heaven, the
angels and powers and virtues being made subject to him.
1 Peter Chapter 4
Exhortations to cease from sin, to mutual charity, to do all for the
glory of God, to be willing to suffer for Christ.
4:1. Christ therefore having suffered in the flesh, be you also armed
with the same thought:  for he that hath suffered in the flesh hath
ceased from sins:
4:2. That now he may live the rest of his time in the flesh, not after
the desires of men but according to the will of God.
4:3. For the time past is sufficient to have fulfilled the will of the
Gentiles, for them who have walked in riotousness, lusts, excess of
wine, revellings, banquetings and unlawful worshipping of idols.
4:4. Wherein they think it strange that you run not with them into the
same confusion of riotousness:  speaking evil of you.
4:5. Who shall render account to him who is ready to judge the living
and the dead.
4:6. For, for this cause was the gospel preached also to the dead:  That
they might be judged indeed according to men, in the flesh:  but may
live according to God, in the Spirit.
4:7. But the end of all is at hand.  Be prudent therefore and watch in
4:8. But before all things have a constant mutual charity among
yourselves:  for charity covereth a multitude of sins.
4:9. Using hospitality one towards another, without murmuring,
4:10. As every man hath received grace, ministering the same one to
another:  as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.
4:11. If any man speak, let him speak, as the words of God.  If any
minister, let him do it, as of the power which God administereth:  that
in all things God may be honoured through Jesus Christ:  to whom is
glory and empire for ever and ever.  Amen.
4:12. Dearly beloved, think not strange the burning heat which is to
try you:  as if some new thing happened to you.
4:13. But if you partake of the sufferings of Christ, rejoice that,
when his glory shall be revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding
4:14. If you be reproached for the name of Christ, you shall be
blessed:  for that which is of the honour, glory and power of God, and
that which is his Spirit resteth upon you.
4:15. But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or a railer
or coveter of other men's things.
4:16. But, if as a Christian, let him not be ashamed:  but let him
glorify God in that name.
4:17. For the time is, that judgment should begin at the house of God.
And if at first at us, what shall be the end of them that believe not
the gospel of God?
4:18. And if the just man shall scarcely be saved, where shall the
ungodly and the sinner appear?
Scarcely. . .That is, not without much labour and difficulty; and
because of the dangers which constantly surround, the temptations of
the world, of the devil, and of our own corrupt nature.
4:19. Wherefore let them also that suffer according to the will of God
commend their souls in good deeds to the faithful Creator.
1 Peter Chapter 5
He exhorts both priests and laity to their respective duties and
recommends to all humility and watchfulness.
5:1. The ancients therefore that are among you, I beseech who am myself
also an ancient and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as also a
partaker of that glory which is to be revealed in time to come:
5:2. Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking care of it, not
by constraint but willingly, according to God:  not for filthy lucre's
sake but voluntarily:
5:3. Neither as lording it over the clergy but being made a pattern of
the flock from the heart.
5:4. And when the prince of pastors shall appear, you shall receive a
never fading crown of glory.
5:5. In like manner, ye young men, be subject to the ancients.  And do
you all insinuate humility one to another:  for God resisteth the proud,
but to the humble he giveth grace.
5:6. Be you humbled therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may
exalt you in the time of visitation:
5:7. Casting all your care upon him, for he hath care of you.
5:8. Be sober and watch:  because your adversary the devil, as a roaring
lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour.
5:9. Whom resist ye, strong in faith:  knowing that the same affliction
befalls, your brethren who are in the world.
5:10. But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal
glory in Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a little, will himself
perfect you and confirm you and establish you.
5:11. To him be glory and empire, for ever and ever.  Amen.
5:12. By Sylvanus, a faithful brother unto you, as I think, I have
written briefly:  beseeching and testifying that this is the true grace
of God, wherein you stand.
5:13. The church that is in Babylon, elected together with you,
saluteth you.  And so doth my son, Mark.
5:14. Salute one another with a holy kiss.  Grace be to all you who are
in Christ Jesus.  Amen.
THE SECOND EPISTLE OF ST. PETER THE APOSTLE
In this Epistle St. Peter says (chap. 3.), Behold this second Epistle I
write to you:  and before (chap. 1. 14,) Being assured that the laying
away of this my tabernacle is at hand.  This shews, that it was written a
very short time before his martyrdom, which was about thirty-five years
after our Lord's Ascension.  In this Epistle he admonishes the faithful
to be mindful of the great gifts they received from God and to join all
other virtues with their faith.  He warns them against false teachers,
by describing their practices and foretelling their punishments.  He
describes the dissolution of this world by fire and the day of
2 Peter Chapter 1
He exhorts them to join all other virtues with their faith, in order to
secure their salvation.
1:1. Simon Peter, servant and apostle of Jesus Christ:  to them that
have obtained equal faith with us in the justice of our God and Saviour
Jesus Christ.
1:2. Grace to you and peace be accomplished in the knowledge of God and
of Christ Jesus our Lord.
1:3. As all things of his divine power which appertain to life and
godliness are given us through the knowledge of him who hath called us
by his own proper glory and virtue.
1:4. By whom he hath given us most great and precious promises:  that by
these you may be made partakers of the divine nature:  flying the
corruption of that concupiscence which is in the world.
1:5. And you, employing all care, minister in your faith, virtue:  And
in virtue, knowledge:
1:6. And in knowledge, abstinence:  and in abstinence, patience:  and in
patience, godliness:
1:7. And in godliness, love of brotherhood:  and in love of brotherhood,
1:8. For if these things be with you and abound, they will make you to
be neither empty nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus
1:9. For he that hath not these things with him is blind and groping,
having forgotten that he was purged from his old sins.
1:10. Wherefore, brethren, labour the more, that by good works you may
make sure your calling and election.  For doing these things, you shall
not sin at any time.
1:11. For so an entrance shall be ministered to you abundantly into the
ever-lasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
1:12. For which cause, I will begin to put you always in remembrance of
these things:  though indeed you know them and are confirmed in the
present truth.
1:13. But I think it meet, as long as I am in this tabernacle, to stir
you up by putting you in remembrance.
1:14. Being assured that the laying away of this my tabernacle is at
hand, according as our Lord Jesus Christ also hath signified to me.
1:15. And I will endeavour that you frequently have after my decease
whereby you may keep a memory of these things.
1:16. For we have not by following artificial fables made known to you
the power and presence of our Lord Jesus Christ:  but we were
eyewitnesses of his greatness.
1:17. For he received from God the Father honour and glory, this voice
coming down to him from the excellent glory:  This is my beloved Son, in
whom I am well pleased.  Hear ye him.
1:18. And this voice, we heard brought from heaven, when we were with
him in the holy mount.
1:19. And we have the more firm prophetical word:  whereunto you do well
to attend, as to a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day
dawn and the day star arise in your hearts.
1:20. Understanding this first:  That no prophecy of scripture is made
by private interpretation.
No prophecy of scripture is made by private interpretation. . .This
shows plainly that the scriptures are not to be expounded by any one's
private judgment or private spirit, because every part of the holy
scriptures were written by men inspired by the Holy Ghost, and declared
as such by the Church; therefore they are not to be interpreted but by
the Spirit of God, which he hath left, and promised to remain with his
Church to guide her in all truth to the end of the world.  Some may tell
us, that many of our divines interpret the scriptures:  they may do so,
but they do it always with a submission to the judgment of the Church,
and not otherwise.
1:21. For prophecy came not by the will of man at any time:  but the
holy men of God spoke, inspired by the Holy Ghost.
2 Peter Chapter 2
He warns them against false teachers and foretells their punishment.
2:1. But there were also false prophets among the people, even as there
shall be among you lying teachers who shall bring in sects of perdition
and deny the Lord who bought them:  bringing upon themselves swift
destruction.
Seeds of perdition. . .That is, heresies destructive of salvation.
2:2. And many shall follow their riotousness, through whom the way of
truth shall be evil spoken of.
2:3. And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make
merchandise of you.  Whose judgment now of a long time lingereth not:
and their perdition slumbereth not.
2:4. For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but delivered them,
drawn down by infernal ropes to the lower hell, unto torments, to be
reserved unto judgment:
2:5. And spared not the original world, but preserved Noe, the eighth
person, the preacher of justice, bringing in the flood upon the world
of the ungodly.
2:6. And reducing the cities of the Sodomites and of the Gomorrhites
into ashes, condemned them to be overthrown, making them an example to
those that should after act wickedly,
2:7. And delivered just Lot, oppressed by the injustice and lewd
conversation of the wicked:
2:8. For in sight and hearing he was just, dwelling among them who from
day to day vexed the just soul with unjust works.
2:9. The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly from temptation, but to
reserve the unjust unto the day of judgment to be tormented:
2:10. And especially them who walk after the flesh in the lust of
uncleanness and despise government:  audacious, self willed, they fear
not to bring in sects, blaspheming.
2:11. Whereas angels, who are greater in strength and power, bring not
against themselves a railing judgment.
Bring not a railing judgment, etc. . .That is, they use no railing, nor
cursing sentence; not even in their conflicts with the evil angels.  See
St. Jude, ver. 9.
2:12. But these men, as irrational beasts, naturally tending to the
snare and to destruction, blaspheming those things which they know not,
shall perish in their corruption:
2:13. Receiving the reward of their injustice, counting for a pleasure
the delights of a day:  stains and spots, sporting themselves to excess,
rioting in their feasts with you:
The delights of a day:  that is, the short delights of this world, in
which they place all their happiness.
2:14. Having eyes full of adultery and of sin that ceaseth not:
alluring unstable souls:  having their heart exercised with
covetousness:  children of malediction.
2:15. Leaving the right way, they have gone astray, having followed the
way of Balaam of Bosor who loved the wages of iniquity,
2:16. But had a check of his madness, the dumb beast used to the yoke,
which, speaking with man's voice, forbade the folly of the prophet.
2:17. These are fountains without water and clouds tossed with
whirlwinds, to whom the mist of darkness is reserved.
2:18. For, speaking proud words of vanity, they allure by the desires
of fleshly riotousness those who for a little while escape, such as
converse in error:
2:19. Promising them liberty, whereas they themselves are the slaves of
corruption.  For by whom a man is overcome, of the same also he is the
2:20. For if, flying from the pollutions of the world, through the
knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, they be again entangled
in them and overcome:  their latter state is become unto them worse than
2:21. For it had been better for them not to have known the way of
justice than, after they have known it, to turn back from that holy
commandment which was delivered to them.
2:22. For, that of the true proverb has happened to them:  The dog is
returned to his vomit; and:  The sow that was washed to her wallowing in
2 Peter Chapter 3
Against scoffers denying the second coming of Christ.  He declares the
sudden dissolution of this world and exhorts to holiness of life.
3:1. Behold this second epistle I write to you, my dearly beloved, in
which, I stir up by way of admonition your sincere mind:
3:2. That you may be mindful of those words which I told you before
from the holy prophet and of your apostles, of the precepts of the Lord
and Saviour.
3:3. Knowing this first:  That in the last days there shall come
deceitful scoffers, walking after their own lusts,
3:4. Saying:  Where is his promise or his coming?  For since the time
that the fathers slept, all things continue as they were from the
beginning of the creation.
3:5. For this they are wilfully ignorant of:  That the heavens were
before, and the earth out of water and through water, consisting by the
word of God:
3:6. Whereby the world that then was, being overflowed with water,
3:7. But the heavens and the earth which are now, by the same word are
kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment and
perdition of the ungodly men.
3:8. But of this one thing be not ignorant, my beloved, that one day
with the Lord is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.
3:9. The Lord delayeth not his promise, as some imagine, but dealeth
patiently for your sake, not willing that any should perish, but that
all should return to penance,
3:10. But the day of the Lord shall come as a thief, in which the
heavens shall pass away with great violence and the elements shall be
melted with heat and the earth and the works which are in it shall be
3:11. Seeing then that all these things are to be dissolved, what
manner of people ought you to be in holy conversation and godliness?
3:12. Looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of the Lord,
by which the heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, and the elements
shall melt with the burning heat?
3:13. But we look for new heavens and a new earth according to his
promises, in which justice dwelleth.
3:14. Wherefore, dearly beloved, waiting for these things, be diligent
that you may be found before him unspotted and blameless in peace.
3:15. And account the longsuffering of our Lord, salvation:  as also our
most dear brother Paul, according to the wisdom given him, hath written
3:16. As also in all his epistles, speaking in them of these things; in
which are certain things hard to be understood, which the unlearned and
unstable wrest, as they do also the other scriptures, to their own
destruction.
3:17. You therefore, brethren, knowing these things before, take heed,
lest being led aside by the error of the unwise, you fall from your own
steadfastness.
3:18. But grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ.  To him be glory both now and unto the day of eternity,
THE FIRST EPISTLE OF ST. JOHN THE APOSTLE
The same vein of divine love and charity towards our neighbour, which
runs throughout the Gospel written by the beloved disciple and
Evangelist, St. John, is found also in his Epistles.  He confirms the
two principal mysteries of faith:  The mystery of the Trinity and the
mystery of the incarnation of Jesus Christ the Son of God.  The
sublimity and excellence of the evangelical doctrine he declares:  And
this commandment we have from God, that he, who loveth God, love also
his brother (chap. 4,21).  And again:  For this is the charity of God,
that we keep his commandments, and:  His commandments are not heavy
(chap. 5,3).  He shews how to distinguish the children of God from those
of the devil:  marks out those who should be called Antichrists:
describes the turpitude and gravity of sin.  Finally, he shews how the
sinner may hope for pardon.  It was written, according to Baronius'
account, sixty-six years after our Lord's Ascension.
1 John Chapter 1
He declares what he has seen and heard of Christ who is the life
eternal, to the end that we may have fellowship with God and all good
through him.  Yet so if we confess our sins.
1:1. That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we
have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and our hands have
handled, of the word of life.
1:2. For the life was manifested:  and we have seen and do bear witness
and declare unto you the life eternal, which was with the Father and
hath appeared to us.
1:3. That which we have seen and have heard, we declare unto you:  that
you also may have fellowship with us and our fellowship may be with the
Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.
1:4. And these things we write to you, that you may rejoice and your
joy may be full.
1:5. And this is the declaration which we have heard from him and
declare unto you:  That God is light and in him there is no darkness.
1:6. If we say that we have fellowship with him and walk in darkness,
we lie and do not the truth.
1:7. But if we walk in the light, as he also is in the light, we have
fellowship one with another:  And the blood of Jesus Christ his Son
cleanseth us from all sin.
1:8. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth
is not in us.
1:9. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, to forgive us our
sins and to cleanse us from all iniquity.
1:10. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar:  and his
word is not in us.
1 John Chapter 2
Christ is our advocate.  We must keep his commandments and love one
another.  We must not love the world nor give ear to new teachers, but
abide by the spirit of God in the church.
2:1. My little children, these things I write to you, that you may not
sin.  But if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus
Christ the just.
2:2. And he is the propitiation for our sins:  and not for ours only,
but also for those of the whole world.
2:3. And by this we know that we have known him, if we keep his
commandments.
We have known him, if we keep his commandments. . .He speaks of that
practical knowledge by love and affection, which can only be proved by
our keeping his commandments; and without which we can not be said to
know God as we should do.
2:4. He who saith that he knoweth him and keepeth not his commandments
is a liar:  and the truth is not in him.
2:5. But he that keepeth his word, in him in very deed the charity of
God is perfected.  And by this we know that we are in him.
2:6. He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also to walk even as
2:7. Dearly beloved, I write not a new commandment to you, but an old
commandment which you had from the beginning.  The old commandment is
the word which you have heard.
2:8. Again a new commandment I write unto you:  which thing is true both
in him and in you, because the darkness is passed and the true light
now shineth.
A new commandment. . .Viz., the commandment of love, which was first
given in the old law; but was renewed and extended by Christ.  See John
2:9. He that saith he is in the light and hateth his brother is in
darkness even until now.
2:10. He that loveth his brother abideth in the light:  and there is no
scandal in him.
2:11. But he that hateth his brother is in darkness and walketh in
darkness and knoweth not whither he goeth:  because the darkness hath
blinded his eyes.
2:12. I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven
you for his name's sake.
2:13. I write unto you, fathers, because you have known him who is from
the beginning.  I write unto you, young men, because you have overcome
the wicked one.
2:14. I write unto you, babes, because you have known the Father.  I
write unto you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God
abideth in you, and you have overcome the wicked one.
2:15. Love not the world, nor the things which are in the world.  If any
man love the world, the charity of the Father is not in him.
2:16. For all that is in the world is the concupiscence of the flesh
and the concupiscence of the eyes and the pride of life, which is not
of the Father but is of the world.
2:17. And the world passeth away and the concupiscence thereof:  but he
that doth the will of God abideth for ever.
2:18. Little children, it is the last hour:  and as you have heard that
Antichrist cometh, even now there are become many Antichrists:  whereby
we know that it is the last hour.
It is the last hour. . .That is, it is the last age of the world.  Many
Antichrists;. . .that is, many heretics, enemies of Christ and his
church, and forerunners of the great Antichrist.
2:19. They went out from us but they were not of us.  For if they had
been of us, they would no doubt have remained with us:  but that they
may be manifest, that they are not all of us.
They were not of us. . .That is, they were not solid, steadfast, genuine
Christians:  otherwise they would have remained in the church.
2:20. But you have the unction from the Holy One and know all things.
The unction from the Holy One. . .That is, grace and wisdom from the
Holy Ghost.  Know all things. . .The true children of God's church,
remaining in unity, under the guidance of their lawful pastors, partake
of the grace of the Holy Ghost, promised to the church and her pastors;
and have in the church all necessary knowledge and instruction; so as
to have no need to seek it elsewhere, since it can be only found in
that society of which they are members.
2:21. I have not written to you as to them that know not the truth, but
as to them that know it:  and that no lie is of the truth.
2:22. Who is a liar, but he who denieth that Jesus is the Christ?  This
is Antichrist, who denieth the Father and the Son.
2:23. Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father.  He that
confesseth the Son hath the Father also.
2:24. As for you, let that which you have heard from the beginning
abide in you.  If that abide in you, which you have heard from the
beginning, you also shall abide in the Son and in the Father.
2:25. And this is the promise which he hath promised us, life
everlasting.
2:26. These things have I written to you concerning them that seduce
2:27. And as for you, let the unction, which you have received from him
abide in you.  And you have no need that any man teach you:  but as his
unction teacheth you of all things and is truth and is no lie.  And as
it hath taught you, abide in him.
You have no need, etc. . .You want not to be taught by any of these men,
who, under pretence of imparting more knowledge to you, seek to seduce
you (ver. 26), since you are sufficiently taught already, and have all
knowledge and grace in the church, with the unction of the Holy Ghost;
which these new teachers have no share in.
2:28. And now, little children, abide in him, that when he shall appear
we may have confidence and not be confounded by him at his coming.
2:29. If you know that he is just, know ye, that every one also who
doth justice is born of him.
1 John Chapter 3
Of the love of God to us.  How we may distinguish the children of God
and those of the devil.  Of loving one another and of purity of
3:1. Behold what manner of charity the Father hath bestowed upon us,
that we should be called and should be the sons of God.  Therefore the
world knoweth not us, because it knew not him.
3:2. Dearly beloved, we are now the sons of God:  and it hath not yet
appeared what we shall be.  We know that when he shall appear we shall
be like to him:  because we shall see him as he is.
3:3. And every one that hath this hope in him sanctifieth himself, as
he also is holy.
3:4. Whosoever committeth sin committeth also iniquity.  And sin is
Iniquity. . .transgression of the law.
3:5. And you know that he appeared to take away our sins:  and in him
there is no sin.
3:6. Whosoever abideth in him sinneth not:  and whosoever sinneth hath
not seen him nor known him.
Sinneth not. . .viz., mortally.  See chap. 1.8.
3:7. Little children, let no man deceive you.  He that doth justice is
just, even as he is just.
3:8. He that committeth sin is of the devil:  for the devil sinneth from
the beginning.  For this purpose the Son of God appeared, that he might
destroy the works of the devil.
3:9. Whosoever is born of God committeth not sin:  for his seed abideth
in him.  And he cannot sin, because he is born of God.
Committeth not sin. . .That is, as long as he keepeth in himself this
seed of grace, and this divine generation, by which he is born of God.
But then he may fall from this happy state, by the abuse of his free
will, as appears from Rom. 11.20-22; Cor. 9.27; and 10.12; Phil. 2.12;
3:10. In this the children of God are manifest, and the children of the
devil.  Whosoever is not just is not of God, or he that loveth not his
3:11. For this is the declaration which you have heard from the
beginning, that you should love one another.
3:12. Not as Cain, who was of the wicked one and killed his brother.
And wherefore did he kill him?  Because his own works were wicked:  and
his brother's just.
3:13. Wonder not, brethren, if the world hate you.
3:14. We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love
the brethren.  He that loveth not abideth in death.
3:15. Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer.  And you know that no
murderer hath eternal life abiding in himself.
3:16. In this we have known the charity of God, because he hath laid
down his life for us:  and we ought to lay down our lives for the
3:17. He that hath the substance of this world and shall see his
brother in need and shall shut up his bowels from him:  how doth the
charity of God abide in him?
3:18. My little children, let us not love in word nor in tongue, but in
deed and in truth.
3:19. In this we know that we are of the truth and in his sight shall
persuade our hearts.
3:20. For if our heart reprehend us, God is greater than our heart and
knoweth all things.
3:21. Dearly beloved, if our heart do not reprehend us, we have
confidence towards God.
3:22. And whatsoever we shall ask, we shall receive of him:  because we
keep his commandments and do those things which are pleasing in his
3:23. And this is his commandment:  That we should believe in the name
of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, as he hath given
commandment unto us.
3:24. And he that keepeth his commandments abideth in him, and he in
him.  And in this we know that he abideth in us by the Spirit which he
hath given us.
1 John Chapter 4
What spirits are of God, and what are not.  We must love one another,
because God has loved us.
4:1. Dearly beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits if
they be of God:  because many false prophets are gone out into the
Try the spirits. . .Viz., by examining whether their teaching be
agreeable to the rule of the Catholic faith, and the doctrine of the
church.  For as he says, (ver. 6,) He that knoweth God, heareth us [the
pastors of the church].  By this we know the spirit of truth, and the
spirit of error.
4:2. By this is the spirit of God known.  Every spirit which confesseth
that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God:
Every spirit which confesseth, etc. . .Not that the confession of this
point of faith alone, is, at all times, and in all cases, sufficient;
but that with relation to that time, and for that part of the Christian
doctrine, which was then particularly to be confessed, taught, and
maintained against the heretics of those days, this was the most proper
token, by which the true teachers might be distinguished form the
4:3. And every spirit that dissolveth Jesus is not of God.  And this is
Antichrist, of whom you have heard that he cometh:  and he is now
already in the world.
That dissolveth Jesus. . .Viz., either by denying his humanity, or his
divinity.  He is now already in the world. . .Not in his person, but in
his spirit, and in his precursors.
4:4. You are of God, little children, and have overcome him.  Because
greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.
4:5. They are of the world.  Therefore of the world they speak:  and the
world heareth them.
4:6. We are of God.  He that knoweth God heareth us.  He that is not of
God heareth us not.  By this we know the spirit of truth and the spirit
4:7. Dearly beloved, let us love one another:  for charity is of God.
And every one that loveth is born of God and knoweth God.
4:8. He that loveth not knoweth not God:  for God is charity.
4:9. By this hath the charity of God appeared towards us, because God
hath sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we may live by
4:10. In this is charity:  not as though we had loved God, but because
he hath first loved us, and sent his Son to be a propitiation for our
4:11. My dearest, if God hath so loved us, we also ought to love one
4:12. No man hath seen God at any time.  If we love one another, God
abideth in us:  and his charity is perfected in us.
4:13. In this we know that we abide in him, and he in us:  because he
hath given us of his spirit.
4:14. And we have seen and do testify that the Father hath sent his Son
to be the Saviour of the world.
4:15. Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God abideth
in him, and he in God.
4:16. And we have known and have believed the charity which God hath to
us.  God is charity:  and he that abideth in charity abideth in God, and
4:17. In this is the charity of God perfected with us, that we may have
confidence in the day of judgment:  because as he is, we also are in
4:18. Fear is not in charity:  but perfect charity casteth out fear,
because fear hath sin.  And he that feareth is not perfected in charity.
Fear is not in charity, etc. . .Perfect charity, or love, banisheth
human fear, that is, the fear of men; as also all perplexing fear,
which makes men mistrust or despair of God's mercy; and that kind of
servile fear, which makes them fear the punishment of sin more than the
offence offered to God.  But it no way excludes the wholesome fear of
God's judgments, so often recomended in holy writ; nor that fear and
trembling, with which we are told to work out our salvation.  Phil.
4:19. Let us therefore love God:  because God first hath loved us.
4:20. If any man say:  I love God, and hateth his brother; he is a liar.
For he that loveth not his brother whom he seeth, how can he love God
whom he seeth not?
4:21. And this commandment we have from God, that he who loveth God
love also his brother.
1 John Chapter 5
Of them that are born of God, and of true charity.  Faith overcomes the
world.  Three that bear witness to Christ.  Of faith in his name and of
sin that is and is not to death.
5:1. Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, is born of God.  And
every one that loveth him who begot, loveth him also who is born of
Is born of God. . .That is, is justified, and become a child of God by
baptism:  which is also to be understood; provided the belief of this
fundamental article of the Christian faith be accompanied with all the
other conditions, which, by the word of God, and his appointment, are
also required to justification; such as a general belief of all that
God has revealed and promised:  hope, love, repentance, and a sincere
disposition to keep God's holy law and commandments.
5:2. In this we know that we love the children of God:  when we love God
and keep his commandments.
5:3. For this is the charity of God:  That we keep his commandments.  And
his commandments are not heavy.
5:4. For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world.  And this is
the victory which overcameth the world:  Our faith.
Our faith. . .Not a bare, speculative, or dead faith; but a faith that
worketh by charity.  Gal. 5.6
5:5. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that
Jesus is the Son of God?
5:6. This is he that came by water and blood, Jesus Christ:  not by
water only but by water and blood.  And it is the Spirit which
testifieth that Christ is the truth.
Came by water and blood. . .Not only to wash away our sins by the water
of baptism, but by his own blood.
5:7. And there are Three who give testimony in heaven, the Father, the
Word, and the Holy Ghost.  And these three are one.
5:8. And there are three that give testimony on earth:  the spirit and
the water and the blood.  And these three are one.
The spirit, and the water, and the blood. . .As the Father, the Word,
and the Holy Ghost, all bear witness to Christ's divinity; so the
spirit, which he yielded up, crying out with a loud voice upon the
cross; and the water and blood that issued from his side, bear witness
to his humanity, and are one; that is, all agree in one testimony.
5:9. If we receive the testimony of men, the testimony of God is
greater.  For this is the testimony of God, which is greater, because he
hath testified of his Son.
5:10. He that believeth in the Son of God hath the testimony of God in
himself.  He that believeth not the Son maketh him a liar:  because he
believeth not in the testimony which God hath testified of his Son.
He that believeth not the Son, etc. . .By refusing to believe the
testimonies given by the three divine persons, that Jesus was the
Messias, and the true Son of God, by whom eternal life is obtained and
promised to all that comply with his doctrine.  In him we have also this
lively confidence, that we shall obtain whatever we ask, according to
his will, when we ask what is for our good, with perseverance, and in
the manner we ought.  And this we know, and have experience of, by
having obtained the petitions that we have made.
5:11. And this is the testimony that God hath given to us eternal life.
And this life is in his Son.
5:12. He that hath the Son hath life.  He that hath not the Son hath not
5:13. These things I write to you that you may know that you have
eternal life:  you who believe in the name of the Son of God.
5:14. And this is the confidence which we have towards him:  That,
whatsoever we shall ask according to his will, he heareth us.
5:15. And we know that he heareth us whatsoever we ask:  we know that we
have the petitions which we request of him.
5:16. He that knoweth his brother to sin a sin which is not to death,
let him ask:  and life shall be given to him who sinneth not to death.
There is a sin unto death.  For that I say not that any man ask.
A sin which is not to death, etc. . .It is hard to determine what St.
John here calls a sin which is not to death, and a sin which is unto
death.  The difference can not be the same as betwixt sins that are
called venial and mortal:  for he says, that if a man pray for his
brother, who commits a sin that is not to death, life shall be given
him:  therefore such a one had before lost the life of grace, and been
guilty of what is commonly called a mortal sin.  And when he speaks of a
sin that is unto death, and adds these words, for that I say not that
any man ask, it cannot be supposed that St. John would say this of
every mortal sin, but only of some heinous sins, which are very seldom
remitted, because such sinners very seldom repent.  By a sin therefore
which is unto death, interpreters commonly understand a wilfull
apostasy from the faith, and from the known truth, when a sinner,
hardened by his own ingratitude, becomes deaf to all admonitions, will
do nothing for himself, but runs on to a final impenitence.  Nor yet
does St. John say, that such a sin is never remitted, or cannot be
remitted, but only has these words, for that I say not that any man ask
the remission :  that is, though we must pray for all sinners
whatsoever, yet men can not pray for such sinners with such a
confidence of obtaining always their petitions, as St. John said
before, ver. 14.  Whatever exposition we follow on this verse, our faith
teacheth us from the holy scriptures, that God desires not the death of
any sinner, but that he be converted and live, Ezech. 33.11.  Though
men's sins be as red as scarlet, they shall become as white as snow,
Isa. 3.18.  It is the will of God that every one come to the knowledge
of the truth, and be saved.  There is no sin so great but which God is
willing to forgive, and has left a power in his church to remit the
most enormous sins:  so that no sinner need despair of pardon, nor will
any sinner perish, but by his own fault.  A sin unto death. . .Some
understand this of final impenitence, or of dying in mortal sin; which
is the only sin that never can be remitted.  But, it is probable, he may
also comprise under this name, the sin of apostasy from the faith, and
some other such heinous sins as are seldom and hardly remitted:  and
therefore he gives little encouragement, to such as pray for these
sinners, to expect what they ask.
5:17. All iniquity is sin.  And there is a sin unto death.
5:18. We know that whosoever is born of God sinneth not:  but the
generation of God preserveth him and the wicked one toucheth him not.
5:19. We know that we are of God and the whole world is seated in
And the whole world is seated in wickedness. . .That is, a great part of
the world.  It may also signify, is under the wicked one, meaning the
devil, who is elsewhere called the prince of this world, that is, of
all the wicked.  John 12.31.
5:20. And we know that the Son of God is come.  And he hath given us
understanding that we may know the true God and may be in his true Son.
This is the true God and life eternal.
And may be in his true Son.  He is, or this is the true God, and life
eternal. . .Which words are a clear proof of Christ's divinity, and as
such made use of by the ancient fathers.
5:21. Little children, keep yourselves from idols.  Amen.
Keep yourselves from idols. . .An admonition to the newly converted
Christians, lest conversing with heathens and idolaters, they might
fall back into the sin of idolatry, which may be the sin unto death
here mentioned by St. John.
THE SECOND EPISTLE OF ST. JOHN THE APOSTLE
The Apostle commends Electa and her family for their steadfastness in
the true faith and exhorts them to persevere, lest they lose the reward
of their labours.  He exhorts them to love one another.  But with
heretics to have no society, even not to salute them.  Although this
Epistle is written to a particular person, yet its instructions may
serve as a lesson to others, especially to those who, from their
connections, situation, or condition in life, are in danger of
2 John Chapter 1
He recommends walking in truth, loving one another and to beware of
false teachers.
1:1. The Ancient to the lady Elect and her children, whom I love in the
truth:  and not I only, but also all they that have known the truth,
The ancient. . .That is, the ancient bishop St. John, being the only one
of the twelve apostles then living.  To the lady Elect. . .Some
conjecture that Electa might be the name of a family, or of a
particular church; but the general opinion is, that it is the proper
name of a lady, so eminent for her piety and great charity, as to merit
this Epistle from St. John.
1:2. For the sake of the truth which dwelleth in us and shall be with
us for ever.
1:3. Grace be with you, mercy and peace from God the Father and from
Christ Jesus the Son of the Father:  in truth and charity.
1:4. I was exceeding glad that I found of thy children walking in
truth, as we have received a commandment from the Father.
1:5. And now I beseech thee, lady, not as writing a new commandment to
thee, but that which we have had from the beginning, that we love one
1:6. And this is charity:  That we walk according to his commandments.
For this is the commandment that, as you have heard from the beginning,
you should walk in the same:
1:7. For many seducers are gone out into the world who confess not that
Jesus Christ is come in the flesh.  This is a seducer and an antichrist.
1:8. Look to yourselves, that you lose not the things which you have
wrought:  but that you may receive a full reward.
1:9. Whosoever revolteth and continueth not in the doctrine of Christ
hath not God.  He that continueth in the doctrine, the same hath both
the Father and the Son.
1:10. If any man come to you and bring not this doctrine, receive him
not into the house nor say to him:  God speed you.
Nor say to him, God speed you. . .This admonition is in general, to
forewarn the faithful of the dangers which may arise from a familiarity
with those who have prevaricated and gone from the true faith, and with
such as teach false doctrine.  But this is not forbidding a charity for
all men, by which we ought to wish and pray for the eternal salvation
of every one, even of our enemies.
1:11. For he that saith unto him:  God speed you, communicateth with his
wicked works.
1:12. Having more things to write unto you, I would not by paper and
ink:  for I hope that I shall be with you and speak face to face, that
your joy may be full.
1:13. The children of thy sister Elect salute thee.
THE THIRD EPISTLE OF ST. JOHN THE APOSTLE
St. John praises Gaius for his walking in truth and for his charity,
complains of the bad conduct of Diotrephes and gives a good testimony
to Demetrius.
3 John Chapter 1
1:1. The Ancient, to the dearly beloved Gaius, whom I love in truth.
1:2. Dearly beloved, concerning all things I make it my prayer that
thou mayest proceed prosperously and fare well, as thy soul doth
prosperously.
1:3. I was exceedingly glad when the brethren came and gave testimony
to the truth in thee, even as thou walkest in the truth.
1:4. I have no greater grace than this, to hear that my children walk
No greater grace. . .that is nothing that gives me greater joy and
satisfaction.
1:5. Dearly beloved, thou dost faithfully whatever thou dost for the
brethren:  and that for strangers,
1:6. Who have given testimony to thy charity in the sight of the
church.  Whom thou shalt do well to bring forward on their way in a
manner worthy of God:
1:7. Because, for his name they went out, taking nothing of the
Taking nothing of the Gentiles. . .These ministers of the gospel are
commended by St. John, who took nothing from the Gentiles, lest they
should seem to preach in order to get money by it.
1:8. We therefore ought to receive such:  that we may be fellow helpers
of the truth.
1:9. I had written perhaps to the church:  but Diotrephes, who loveth to
have the preeminence among them, doth not receive us.
Diotrephes who loveth. . .This man seemeth to be in power, but not a
friend to the faithful; therefore this part of the letter might be an
admonition to him from the apostle.
1:11. Dearly beloved, follow not that which is evil:  but that which is
good.  He that doth good is of God:  he that doth evil hath not seen God.
1:12. To Demetrius, testimony is given by all, and by the truth itself:
yea and we also give testimony.  And thou knowest that our testimony is
1:13. I had many things to write unto thee:  but I would not by ink and
pen write to thee.
1:14. But I hope speedily to see thee:  and we will speak mouth to
mouth.  Peace be to thee.  Our friends salute thee.  Salute the friends
THE CATHOLIC EPISTLE OF ST. JUDE
St. Jude, who wrote this Epistle, was one of the twelve Apostles and
brother to St. James the Less.  The time it was written is uncertain:
only it may be inferred from verse 17 that few or none of the Apostles
were then living, except St. John.  He inveighs against the heresies and
wicked practices of the Simonians, Nicolaites, and Gnostics, etc.,
describing them and their leaders by strong epithets and similes, He
exhorts the faithful to contend earnestly for the faith first delivered
to them and to beware of heretics.
Jude Chapter 1
He exhorts them to stand to the faith first delivered to them and to
beware of heretics.
1:1. Jude, the servant of Jesus Christ and brother of James:  to them
that are beloved in God the Father and preserved in Jesus Christ and
1:2. Mercy unto you and peace:  and charity be fulfilled.
1:3. Dearly beloved, taking all care to write unto you concerning your
common salvation, I was under a necessity to write unto you:  to beseech
you to contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints.
1:4. For certain men are secretly entered in (who were written of long
ago unto this judgment), ungodly men, turning the grace of our Lord God
into riotousness and denying the only sovereign Ruler and our Lord
Jesus Christ.
1:5. I will therefore admonish you, though ye once knew all things,
that Jesus, having saved the people out of the land of Egypt, did
afterwards destroy them that believed not.
1:6. And the angels who kept not their principality but forsook their
own habitation, he hath reserved under darkness in everlasting chains,
unto the judgment of the great day.
Principality. . .That is, the state in which they were first created,
their original dignity.
1:7. As Sodom and Gomorrha and the neighbouring cities, in like manner,
having given themselves to fornication and going after other flesh,
were made an example, suffering the punishment of eternal fire.
1:8. In like manner, these men also defile the flesh and despise
dominion and blaspheme majesty.
Blaspheme majesty. . .Speak evil of them that are in dignity; and even
utter blasphemies against the divine majesty.
1:9. When Michael the archangel, disputing with the devil, contended
about the body of Moses, he durst not bring against him the judgment of
railing speech, but said:  The Lord command thee.
Contended about the body, etc. . .This contention, which is no where
else mentioned in holy writ, was originally known by revelation, and
transmitted by tradition.  It is thought the occasion of it was, that
the devil would have had the body buried in such a place and manner, as
to be worshipped by the Jews with divine honours.  Command thee. . .or
rebuke thee.
1:10. But these men blaspheme whatever things they know not:  and what
things soever they naturally know, like dumb beasts, in these they are
1:11. Woe unto them!  For they have gone in the way of Cain:  and after
the error of Balaam they have for reward poured out themselves and have
perished in the contradiction of Core.
Gone in the way, etc. . .Heretics follow the way of Cain, by murdering
the souls of their brethren; the way of Balaam, by putting a scandal
before the people of God, for their own private ends; and the way of
Core or Korah, by their opposition to the church governors of divine
appointment.
1:12. These are spots in their banquets, feasting together without
fear, feeding themselves:  clouds without water, which are carried about
by winds:  trees of the autumn, unfruitful, twice dead, plucked up by
1:13. Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own confusion:
wandering stars, to whom the storm of darkness is reserved for ever.
1:14. Now of these Enoch also, the seventh from Adam, prophesied,
saying:  Behold, the Lord cometh with thousands of his saints:
Prophesied. . .This prophecy was either known by tradition, or from some
book that is since lost.
1:15. To execute judgment upon all and to reprove all the ungodly for
all the works of their ungodliness, whereby they have done ungodly:  and
for all the hard things which ungodly sinners have spoken against God.
1:16. These are murmurers, full of complaints, walking according to
their own desires:  and their mouth speaketh proud things, admiring
persons, for gain's sake.
1:17. But you, my dearly beloved, be mindful of the words which have
been spoken before by the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ:
But you, my dearly beloved, be mindful, etc. . .He now exhorts the
faithful to remain steadfast in the belief and practice of what they
had heard from the apostles, who had also foretold that in aftertimes
(lit. in the last time) there should be false teachers, scoffing and
ridiculing all revealed truths, abandoning themselves to their passions
and lusts; who separate themselves from the Catholic communion by
heresies and schisms.  Sensual men. . .carried away and enslaved by the
pleasures of the senses.
1:18. Who told you that in the last time there should come mockers,
walking according to their own desires in ungodlinesses.
1:19. These are they who separate themselves, sensual men, having not
1:20. But you, my beloved, building yourselves upon your most holy
faith, praying in the Holy Ghost,
1:21. Keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our
Lord Jesus Christ, unto life everlasting.
Building yourselves upon your most holy faith. . .Raising by your
actions, a spiritual building, founded, 1st, upon faith; 2d, on the
love of God; 3d, upon hope, whilst you are waiting for the mercies of
God, and the reward of eternal life; 4th, joined with the great duty of
1:22. And some indeed reprove, being judged:
1:23. But others save, pulling them out of the fire.  And on others have
mercy, in fear, hating also the spotted garment which is carnal.
And some indeed reprove being judged. . .He gives them another
instruction to practice charity in endeavouring to convert their
neighbour, where they will meet with three sorts of persons:  1st, With
persons obstinate in their errors and sins; these may be said to be
already judged and condemned; they are to be sharply reprehended,
reproved, and if possible convinced of their error.  2d, As to others
you must endeavour to save them, by pulling them, as it were, out of
the fire, from the ruin they stand in great danger of.  3d, You must
have mercy on others in fear, when you see them through ignorance of
frailty, in danger of being drawn into the snares of these heretics;
with these you must deal more gently and mildly, with a charitable
compassion, hating always, and teaching others to hate the carnal
garment which is spotted, their sensual and corrupt manners, that
defile both the soul and body.
1:24. Now to him who is able to preserve you without sin and to present
you spotless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, in
the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ:
1:25. To the only God our Saviour through Jesus Christ our Lord, be
glory and magnificence, empire and power, before all ages, and now, and
for all ages of ages.  Amen.
Now to him, etc. . .St. Jude concludes his epistle with this doxology of
praising God, and praying to the only God our Saviour, which may either
signify God the Father, or God as equally agreeing to all the three
persons, who are equally the cause of Christ's incarnation, and man's
salvation, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who, being God from eternity,
took upon him our human nature, that he might become our Redeemer.
THE APOCALYPSE OF ST. JOHN THE APOSTLE
In the first, second, and third chapters of this Book are contained
instructions and admonitions which St. John was commanded to write to
the seven bishops of the churches in Asia.  And in the following
chapters, to the end, are contained prophecies of things that are to
come to pass in the Church of Christ, particularly towards the end of
the world, in the time of Antichrist.  It was written in Greek, in the
island of Patmos, where St. John was in banishment by order of the
cruel emperor Domitian, about sixty-four years after our Lord's
Apocalypse Chapter 1
St. John is ordered to write to the seven churches in Asia.  The manner
of Christ's appearing to him.
1:1. The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to make
known to his servants the things which must shortly come to pass:  and
signified, sending by his angel to his servant John,
The things which must shortly come;. . .and again it is said, ver. 3,
The time is at hand. . .This can not be meant of all the things
prophesied in the Apocalypse, where mention is made also of the day of
judgment, and of the glory of heaven at the end of the world.  That some
things were to come to pass shortly, is evident, by what is said to the
Seven Churches, chap. 2 and 3, Or that the persecutions foretold should
begin shortly.  Or that these words signified, that all time is short,
and that from the coming of Christ, we are now in the last age or last
hour.  See 1 John 2.18.
1:2. Who hath given testimony to the word of God and the testimony of
Jesus Christ, what things soever he hath seen.
1:3. Blessed is he that readeth and heareth the words of this prophecy:
and keepeth those things which are written in it.  For the time is at
1:4. John to the seven churches which are in Asia.  Grace be unto you
and peace, from him that is and that was and that is to come:  and from
the seven spirits which are before his throne:
1:5. And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, the first
begotten of the dead and the prince of the kings of the earth, who hath
loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood
1:6. And hath made us a kingdom, and priests to God and his Father.  To
him be glory and empire for ever and ever.  Amen.
1:7. Behold, he cometh with the clouds, and every eye shall see him:
and they also that pierced him.  And all the tribes of the earth shall
bewail themselves because of him.  Even so.  Amen.
1:8. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, saith the Lord
God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.
I am Alpha and Omega. . .These are the names of the first and last
letters of the Greek alphabet, and signify the same as what follows:
The beginning and the end:  the first cause and last end of all beings:
who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty. . .These words
signify the true God only, and are here applied to our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ, who is to come again to judge the living and the dead.
1:9. I, John, your brother and your partner in tribulation and in the
kingdom and patience in Christ Jesus, was in the island which is called
Patmos, for the word of God and for the testimony of Jesus.
1:10. I was in the spirit on the Lord's day and heard behind me a great
voice, as of a trumpet,
1:11. Saying:  What thou seest, write in a book and send to the seven
churches which are in Asia:  to Ephesus and to Smyrna and to Pergamus
and to Thyatira and to Sardis and to Philadelphia and to Laodicea.
1:12. And I turned to see the voice that spoke with me.  And being
turned, I saw seven golden candlesticks:
1:13. And in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks, one like to
the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the feet, and girt about
the paps with a golden girdle.
1:14. And his head and his hairs were white as white wool and as snow.
And his eyes were as a flame of fire:
1:15. And his feet like unto fine brass, as in a burning furnace.  And
his voice as the sound of many waters.
1:16. And he had in his right hand seven stars.  And from his mouth came
out a sharp two-edged sword.  And his face was as the sun shineth in his
1:17. And when I had seen him, I fell at his feet as dead.  And he laid
his right hand upon me, saying:  Fear not.  I am the First and the Last,
1:18. And alive, and was dead.  And behold I am living for ever and ever
and have the keys of death and of hell.
1:19. Write therefore the things which thou hast seen:  and which are:
and which must be done hereafter.
1:20. The mystery of the seven stars, which thou sawest in my right
hand and the seven golden candlesticks.  The seven stars are the angels
of the seven churches.  And the seven candlesticks are the seven
Apocalypse Chapter 2
Directions what to write to the angels or bishops of Ephesus, Smyrna,
Pergamus and Thyatira.
2:1. Unto the angel of the church of Ephesus write:  These things saith
he who holdeth the seven stars in his right hand, who walketh in the
midst of the seven golden candlesticks:
2:2. I know thy works and thy labour and thy patience and how thou
canst not bear them that are evil.  And thou hast tried them who say
they are apostles and are not:  and hast found them liars:
2:3. And thou hast patience and hast endured for my name and hast not
2:4. But I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first
2:5. Be mindful therefore from whence thou art fallen:  and do penance
and do the first works.  Or else I come to thee and will move thy
candlestick out of its place, except thou do penance.
2:6. But this thou hast, that thou hatest the deeds of the Nicolaites,
which I also hate.
2:7. He that hath an ear let him hear what the Spirit saith to the
churches:  To him that overcometh I will give to eat of the tree of life
which is in the paradise of my God.
2:8. And to the angel of the church of Smyrna write:  These things saith
the First and the Last, who was dead and is alive:
2:9. I know thy tribulation and thy poverty:  but thou art rich.  And
thou art blasphemed by them that say they are Jews and are not, but are
the synagogue of Satan.
2:10. Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer.  Behold, the
devil will cast some of you into prison, that you may be tried:  and you
shall have tribulation ten days.  Be thou faithful unto death:  and I
will give thee the crown of life.
2:11. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the
churches:  He that shall overcome shall not be hurt by the second death.
2:12. And to the angel of the church of Pergamus write:  These things
saith he that hath the sharp two-edged sword:
2:13. I know where thou dwellest, where the seat of Satan is.  And thou
holdest fast my name and hast not denied my faith.  Even in those days
when Antipas was my faithful witness, who was slain among you, where
Satan dwelleth.
2:14. But I have against thee a few things:  because thou hast there
them that hold the doctrine of Balaam who taught Balac to cast a
stumblingblock before the children of Israel, to eat and to commit
fornication.
2:15. So hast thou also them that hold the doctrine of the Nicolaites.
2:16. In like manner do penance.  If not, I will come to thee quickly
and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth.
2:17. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the
churches:  To him that overcometh I will give the hidden manna and will
give him a white counter:  and in the counter, a new name written, which
no man knoweth but he that receiveth it.
2:18. And to the angel of the church of Thyatira write:  These things
saith the Son of God, who hath his eyes like to a flame of fire and his
feet like to fine brass.
2:19. I know thy works and thy faith and thy charity and thy ministry
and thy patience and thy last works, which are more than the former.
2:20. But I have against thee a few things:  because thou sufferest the
woman Jezabel, who calleth herself a prophetess, to teach and to seduce
my servants, to commit fornication and to eat of things sacrificed to
2:21. And I gave her a time that she might do penance:  and she will not
repent of her fornication.
2:22. Behold, I will cast her into a bed:  and they that commit adultery
with her shall be in very great tribulation, except they do penance
from their deeds,
2:23. And I will kill her children with death:  and all the churches
shall know that I am he that searcheth the reins and hearts.  And I will
give to every one of you according to your works.  But to you I say
2:24. And to the rest who are at Thyatira:  Whosoever have not this
doctrine and who have not known the depths of Satan, as they say:  I
will not put upon you any other burthen.
2:25. Yet that which you have, hold fast till I come.
2:26. And he that shall overcome and keep my words unto the end, I will
give him power over the nations.
Power over the nations. . .This shews, that the saints, who are with
Christ our Lord in heaven, receive power from him to preside over
nations and provinces, as patrons; and shall come with him at the end
of the world to execute his will against those who have not kept his
commandments.
2:27. And he shall rule them with a rod of iron:  and as the vessel of a
potter they shall be broken:
2:28. As I also have received of my Father.  And I will give him the
morning star.
2:29. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the
Apocalypse Chapter 3
Directions what to write to Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea.
3:1. And to the angel of the church of Sardis write:  These things saith
he that hath the seven spirits of God and the seven stars:  I know thy
works, and that thou hast the name of being alive.  And thou art dead.
3:2. Be watchful and strengthen the things that remain, which are ready
to die.  For I find not thy works full before my God.
3:3. Have in mind therefore in what manner thou hast received and
heard:  and observe and do penance:  If then thou shalt not watch, I will
come to thee as a thief:  and thou shalt not know at what hour I will
come to thee.
3:4. But thou hast a few names in Sardis which have not defiled their
garments:  and they shall walk with me in white, because they are
3:5. He that shall overcome shall thus be clothed in white garments:
and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life.  And I will
confess his name before my Father and before his angels.
3:6. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the
3:7. And to the angel of the church of Philadelphia write:  These things
saith the Holy One and the true one, he that hath the key of David, he
that openeth and no man shutteth, shutteth and no man openeth:
3:8. I know thy works.  Behold, I have given before thee a door opened,
which no man can shut:  because thou hast a little strength and hast
kept my word and hast not denied my name.
3:9. Behold, I will bring of the synagogue of Satan, who say they are
Jews and are not, but do lie.  Behold, I will make them to come and
adore before thy feet.  And they shall know that I have loved thee.
3:10. Because thou hast kept the word of my patience, I will also keep
thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon the whole world
to try them that dwell upon the earth.
3:11. Behold, I come quickly:  hold fast that which thou hast, that no
man take thy crown.
3:12. He that shall overcome, I will make him a pillar in the temple of
my God:  and he shall go out no more.  And I will write upon him the name
of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which
cometh down out of heaven from my God, and my new name.
3:13. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the
3:14. And to the angel of the church of Laodicea write:  These things
saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, who is the beginning of
the creation of God:
The Amen,. . .that is, the true one, the Truth itself; the Word and Son
of God.  The beginning. . .that is, the principle, the source, and the
efficient cause of the whole creation.
3:15. I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot.  I would
thou wert cold or hot.
3:16. But because thou art lukewarm and neither cold nor hot, I will
begin to vomit thee out of my mouth.
3:17. Because thou sayest:  I am rich and made wealthy and have need of
nothing:  and knowest not that thou art wretched and miserable and poor
and blind and naked.
3:18. I counsel thee to buy of me gold, fire tried, that thou mayest be
made rich and mayest be clothed in white garments:  and that the shame
of thy nakedness may not appear.  And anoint thy eyes with eyesalve,
that thou mayest see.
3:19. Such as I love, I rebuke and chastise.  Be zealous therefore and
3:20. Behold, I stand at the gate and knock.  If any man shall hear my
voice and open to me the door, I will come in to him and will sup with
him:  and he with me.
3:21. To him that shall overcome, I will give to sit with me in my
throne:  as I also have overcome and am set down with my Father in his
3:22. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith to the
Apocalypse Chapter 4
The vision of the throne of God, the twenty-four ancients and the four
living creatures.
4:1. After these things I looked, and behold a door was opened in
heaven, and the first voice which I heard, as it were, of a trumpet
speaking with me, said:  Come up hither, and I will shew thee the things
which must be done hereafter.
4:2. And immediately I was in the spirit.  And behold, there was a
throne set in heaven, and upon the throne one sitting.
4:3. And he that sat was to the sight like the jasper and the sardine
stone.  And there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like
unto an emerald.
4:4. And round about the throne were four and twenty seats:  and upon
the seats, four and twenty ancients sitting, clothed in white garments.
And on their heads were crowns of gold.
4:5. And from the throne proceeded lightnings and voices and thunders.
And there were seven lamps burning before the throne, which are the
seven Spirits of God.
4:6. And in the sight of the throne was, as it were, a sea of glass
like to crystal:  and in the midst of the throne, and round about the
throne, were four living creatures, full of eyes before and behind.
4:7. And the first living creature was like a lion:  and the second
living creature like a calf:  and the third living creature, having the
face, as it were, of a man:  and the fourth living creature was like an
eagle flying.
4:8. And the four living creatures had each of them six wings:  and
round about and within they are full of eyes.  And they rested not day
and night, saying:  Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, who was and who
is and who is to come.
4:9. And when those living creatures gave glory and honour and
benediction to him that sitteth on the throne, who liveth for ever and
4:10. The four and twenty ancients fell down before him that sitteth on
the throne and adored him that liveth for ever and ever and cast their
crowns before the throne, saying:
4:11. Thou art worthy, O Lord our God, to receive glory and honour and
power.  Because thou hast created all things:  and for thy will they were
and have been created.
Apocalypse Chapter 5
The book sealed with seven seals is opened by the Lamb, who thereupon
receives adoration and praise from all.
5:1. And I saw, in the right hand of him that sat on the throne, a
book, written within and without, sealed with seven seals.
5:2. And I saw a strong angel, proclaiming with a loud voice:  Who is
worthy to open the book and to loose the seals thereof?
5:3. And no man was able, neither in heaven nor on earth nor under the
earth, to open the book, nor to look on it.
5:4. And I wept much, because no man was found worthy to open the book,
nor to see it.
5:5. And one of the ancients said to me:  Weep not:  behold the lion of
the tribe of Juda, the root of David, hath prevailed to open the book
and to loose the seven seals thereof.
5:6. And I saw:  and behold in the midst of the throne and of the four
living creatures and in the midst of the ancients, a Lamb standing, as
it were slain, having seven horns and seven eyes:  which are the seven
Spirits of God, sent forth into all the earth.
5:7. And he came and took the book out of the right hand of him that
sat on the throne.
5:8. And when he had opened the book, the four living creatures and the
four and twenty ancients fell down before the Lamb, having every one of
them harps and golden vials full of odours, which are the prayers of
The prayers of saints. . .Here we see that the saints in heaven offer up
to Christ the prayers of the faithful upon earth.
5:9. And they sung a new canticle, saying:  Thou art worthy, O Lord, to
take the book and to open the seals thereof:  because thou wast slain
and hast redeemed us to God, in thy blood, out of every tribe and
tongue and people and nation:
5:10. And hast made us to our God a kingdom and priests, and we shall
reign on the earth.
5:11. And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about
the throne and the living creatures and the ancients (and the number of
them was thousands of thousands),
5:12. Saying with a loud voice:  The Lamb that was slain is worthy to
receive power and divinity and wisdom and strength and honour and glory
and benediction.
5:13. And every creature which is in heaven and on the earth and under
the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, I
heard all saying:  To him that sitteth on the throne and to the Lamb,
benediction and honour and glory and power, for ever and ever.
5:14. And the four living creatures said:  Amen.  And the four and twenty
ancients fell down on their faces and adored him that liveth for ever
Apocalypse Chapter 6
What followed upon opening six of the seals.
6:1. And I saw that the Lamb had opened one of the seven seals:  and I
heard one of the four living creatures, as it were the voice of
thunder, saying:  Come and see.
6:2. And I saw:  and behold a white horse, and he that sat on him had a
bow, and there was a crown given him, and he went forth conquering that
he might conquer.
White horse. . .He that sitteth on the white horse is Christ, going
forth to subdue the world by his gospel.  The other horses that follow
represent the judgments and punishment that were to fall on the enemies
of Christ and his church.  The red horse signifies war; the black horse,
famine; and the pale horse (which has Death for its rider), plagues or
6:3. And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second living
creature saying:  Come and see.
6:4. And there went out another horse that was red.  And to him that sat
thereon, it was given that he should take peace from the earth:  and
that they should kill one another.  And a great sword was given to him.
6:5. And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third living
creature saying:  Come and see.  And behold a black horse.  And he that
sat on him had a pair of scales in his hand.
6:6. And I heard, as it were a voice in the midst of the four living
creatures, saying:  Two pounds of wheat for a penny, and thrice two
pounds of barley for a penny:  and see thou hurt not the wine and the
6:7. And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the
fourth living creature saying:  Come and see.
6:8. And behold a pale horse:  and he that sat upon him, his name was
Death.  And hell followed him.  And power was given to him over the four
parts of the earth, to kill with sword, with famine and with death and
with the beasts of the earth.
6:9. And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the
souls of them that were slain for the word of God and for the testimony
which they held.
Under the altar. . .Christ, as man, is this altar, under which the souls
of the martyrs live in heaven, as their bodies are here deposited under
6:10. And they cried with a loud voice, saying:  How long, O Lord (Holy
and True), dost thou not judge and revenge our blood on them that dwell
on the earth?
Revenge our blood. . .They ask not this out of hatred to their enemies,
but out of zeal for the glory of God, and a desire that the Lord would
accelerate the general judgment, and the complete beatitude of all his
6:11. And white robes were given to every one of them one; And it was
said to them that they should rest for a little time till their fellow
servants and their brethren, who are to be slain even as they, should
be filled up.
6:12. And I saw, when he had opened the sixth seal:  and behold there
was a great earthquake.  And the sun became black as sackcloth of hair:
and the whole moon became as blood.
6:13. And the stars from heaven fell upon the earth, as the fig tree
casteth its green figs when it is shaken by a great wind.
6:14. And the heaven departed as a book folded up.  And every mountain,
and the islands, were moved out of their places.
6:15. And the kings of the earth and the princes and tribunes and the
rich and the strong and every bondman and every freeman hid themselves
in the dens and in the rocks of mountains:
6:16. And they say to the mountains and the rocks:  Fall upon us and
hide us from the face of him that sitteth upon the throne and from the
wrath of the Lamb.
6:17. For the great day of their wrath is come.  And who shall be able
Apocalypse Chapter 7
The number of them that were marked with the seal of the living God and
clothed in white robes.
7:1. After these things, I saw four angels standing on the four corners
of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth, that they should not
blow upon the earth nor upon the sea nor on any tree.
7:2. And I saw another angel ascending from the rising of the sun,
having the sign of the living God.  And he cried with a loud voice to
the four angels to whom it was given to hurt the earth and the sea,
7:3. Saying:  Hurt not the earth nor the sea nor the trees, till we sign
the servants of our God in their foreheads.
7:4. And I heard the number of them that were signed.  An hundred
forty-four thousand were signed, of every tribe of the children of
7:5. Of the tribe of Juda, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of
Ruben, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of Gad, twelve thousand
7:6. Of the tribe of Aser, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of
Nephthali, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of Manasses, twelve
thousand signed:
7:7. Of the tribe of Simeon, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of
Levi, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of Issachar, twelve thousand
7:8. Of the tribe of Zabulon, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of
Joseph, twelve thousand signed:  Of the tribe of Benjamin, twelve
thousand signed.
7:9. After this, I saw a great multitude, which no man could number, of
all nations and tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the
throne and in sight of the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in
their hands.
7:10. And they cried with a loud voice, saying:  Salvation to our God,
who sitteth upon the throne and to the Lamb.
7:11. And all the angels stood round about the throne and the ancients
and the four living creatures.  And they fell down before the throne
upon their faces and adored God,
7:12. Saying:  Amen.  Benediction and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving,
honour and power and strength, to our God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
7:13. And one of the ancients answered and said to me:  These that are
clothed in white robes, who are they?  And whence came they?
7:14. And I said to him:  My Lord, thou knowest.  And he said to me:
These are they who are come out of great tribulation and have washed
their robes and have made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
7:15. Therefore, they are before the throne of God:  and they serve him
day and night in his temple.  And he that sitteth on the throne shall
dwell over them.
7:16. They shall no more hunger nor thirst:  neither shall the sun fall
on them, nor any heat.
7:17. For the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, shall rule
them and shall lead them to the fountains of the waters of life:  and
God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.
Apocalypse Chapter 8
The seventh seal is opened.  The angels with the seven trumpets.
8:1. And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in
heaven, as it were for half an hour.
8:2. And I saw seven angels standing in the presence of God:  and there
were given to them seven trumpets.
8:3. And another angel came and stood before the altar, having a golden
censer:  and there was given to him much incense, that he should offer
of the prayers of all saints, upon the golden altar which is before the
throne of God.
8:4. And the smoke of the incense of the prayers of the saints ascended
up before God from the hand of the angel.
8:5. And the angel took the censer and filled it with the fire of the
altar and cast it on the earth:  and there were thunders and voices and
lightnings and a great earthquake.
8:6. And the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared
themselves to sound the trumpet.
8:7. And the first angel sounded the trumpet:  and there followed hail
and fire, mingled with blood:  and it was cast on the earth.  And the
third part of the earth was burnt up:  and the third part of the trees
was burnt up:  and all green grass was burnt up.
8:8. And the second angel sounded the trumpet:  and, as it were, a great
mountain, burning with fire, was cast into the sea.  And the third part
of the sea became blood.
8:9. And the third part of those creatures died which had life in the
sea:  and the third part of the ships was destroyed.
8:10. And the third angel sounded the trumpet:  and a great star fell
from heaven, burning as it were a torch.  And it fell on the third part
of the rivers and upon the fountains of waters:
8:11. And the name of the star is called Wormwood.  And the third part
of the waters became wormwood.  And many men died of the waters, because
they were made bitter.
8:12. And the fourth angel sounded the trumpet:  and the third part of
the sun was smitten, and the third part of the moon, and the third part
of the stars, so that the third part of them was darkened.  And the day
did not shine for a third part of it:  and the night in like manner.
8:13. And I beheld:  and heard the voice of one eagle flying through the
midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice:  Woe, Woe, Woe to the
inhabitants of the earth, by reason of the rest of the voices of the
three angels, who are yet to sound the trumpet!
Apocalypse Chapter 9
Locusts come forth from the bottomless pit.  The vision of the army of
9:1. And the fifth angel sounded the trumpet:  and I saw a star fall
from heaven upon the earth.  And there was given to him the key of the
bottomless pit.
A star full. . .This may mean the fall and apostasy of great and learned
men from the true faith.  Or a whole nation falling into error and
separating from the church, not having the sign of God in their
foreheads.  And there was given to him the key of the bottomless
pit. . .That is, to the angel, not to the fallen star.  To this angel was
given the power, which is here signified by a key, of opening hell.
9:2. And he opened the bottomless pit:  and the smoke of the pit arose,
as the smoke of a great furnace.  And the sun and the air were darkened
with the smoke of the pit.
9:3. And from the smoke of the pit there came out locusts upon the
earth.  And power was given to them, as the scorpions of the earth have
There came out locusts. . .These may be devils in Antichrist's time,
having the appearance of locusts, but large and monstrous, as here
described.  Or they may be real locusts, but of an extraordinary size
and monstrous shape, such as were never before seen on earth, sent to
torment those who have not the sign (or seal) of God on their
foreheads.  Some commentators by these locusts understand heretics, and
especially those heretics, that sprung from Jews, and with them denied
the divinity of Jesus Christ; as Theodotus, Praxeas, Noetus, Paul of
Samosata, Sabellius, Arius, etc.  These were great enemies of the
Christian religion; they tormented and infected the souls of men,
stinging them like scorpions, with the poison of their heresies.  Others
have explained these locusts, and other animals, mentioned in different
places throughout this sacred and mystical book, in a most absurd,
fanciful, and ridiculous manner; they make Abaddon the Pope, and the
locusts to be friars mendicant, etc.  Here it is thought proper, not to
enter into any controversy upon that subject, as the inventors of these
fancies have been already answered, and fully refuted by many
controvertists:  besides, those who might be inposed on by such
chimerical writers, are in these days much better informed.
9:4. And it was commanded them that they should not hurt the grass of
the earth nor any green thing nor any tree:  but only the men who have
not the sign of God on their foreheads.
9:5. And it was given unto them that they should not kill them:  but
that they should torment them five months.  And their torment was as the
torment of a scorpion when he striketh a man.
9:6. And in those days, men shall seek death and shall not find it.  And
they shall desire to die:  and death shall fly from them.
9:7. And the shapes of the locusts were like unto horses prepared unto
battle.  And on their heads were, as it were, crowns like gold:  and
their faces were as the faces of men.
9:8. And they had hair as the hair of women:  and their teeth were as
9:9. And they had breastplates as breastplates of iron:  and the noise
of their wings was as the noise of chariots and many horses running to
9:10. And they had tails like to scorpions:  and there were stings in
their tails.  And their power was to hurt men, five months.  And they had
9:11. A king, the angel of the bottomless pit (whose name in Hebrew is
Abaddon and in Greek Apollyon, in Latin Exterminans).
9:12. One woe is past:  and behold there come yet two woes more
9:13. And the sixth angel sounded the trumpet:  and I heard a voice from
the four horns of the golden altar which is before the eyes of God,
9:14. Saying to the sixth angel who had the trumpet:  Loose the four
angels who are bound in the great river Euphrates.
9:15. And the four angels were loosed, who were prepared for an hour,
and a day, and a month, and a year:  for to kill the third part of men.
9:16. And the number of the army of horsemen was twenty thousand times
ten thousand.  And I heard the number of them.
9:17. And thus I saw the horses in the vision.  And they that sat on
them had breastplates of fire and of hyacinth and of brimstone.  And the
heads of the horses were as the heads of lions:  and from their mouths
proceeded fire and smoke and brimstone.
9:18. And by these three plagues was slain the third part of men, by
the fire and by the smoke and by the brimstone which issued out of
their mouths.
9:19. For the power of the horses is in their mouths and in their
tails.  For, their tails are like to serpents and have heads:  and with
them they hurt.
9:20. And the rest of the men, who were not slain by these plagues, did
not do penance from the works of their hands, that they should not
adore devils and idols of gold and silver and brass and stone and wood,
which neither can see nor hear nor walk:
9:21. Neither did they penance from their murders nor from their
sorceries nor from their fornication nor from their thefts.
Apocalypse Chapter 10
The cry of a mighty angel.  He gives John a book to eat.
10:1. And I saw another mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed
with a cloud.  And a rainbow was on his head:  and his face, as the sun,
and his feet as pillars of fire.
10:2. And he had in his hand a little book, open.  And he set his right
foot upon the sea, and his left foot upon the earth.
10:3. And he cried with a loud voice as when a lion roareth.  And when
he had cried, seven thunders uttered their voices.
10:4. And when the seven thunders had uttered their voices, I was about
to write.  And I heard a voice from heaven saying to me:  Seal up the
things which the seven thunders have spoken.  And write them not.
10:5. And the angel whom I saw standing upon the sea and upon the earth
lifted up his hand to heaven.
10:6. And he swore by him that liveth for ever and ever, who created
heaven and the things which are therein, and the earth and the things
which are in it, and the sea and the things which are therein:  That
time shall be no longer.
10:7. But in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall
begin to sound the trumpet, the mystery of God shall be finished, as he
hath declared by his servants the prophets.
Declared. . .literally evangelized, to signify the good tidings,
agreeable to the Gospel, of the final victory of Christ, and of that
eternal life, which should be the reward of the temporal sufferings of
the martyrs and faithful servants of God.
10:8. And I heard a voice from heaven, again speaking to me and saying:
Go and take the book that is open, from the hand of the angel who
standeth upon the sea and upon the earth.
10:9. And I went to the angel, saying unto him that he should give me
the book.  And he said to me:  Take the book and eat it up.  And it shall
make thy belly bitter:  but in thy mouth it shall be sweet as honey.
10:10. And I took the book from the hand of the angel and ate it up:
and it was in my mouth, sweet as honey.  And when I had eaten it, my
belly was bitter.
10:11. And he said to me:  Thou must prophesy again to many nations and
peoples and tongues and kings.
Apocalypse Chapter 11
He is ordered to measure the temple.  The two witnesses.
11:1. And there was given me a reed, like unto a rod.  And it was said
to me:  Arise, and measure the temple of God and the altar and them that
adore therein.
11:2. But the court which is without the temple, cast out and measure
it not:  because it is given unto the Gentiles.  And the holy city they
shall tread under foot, two and forty months:
11:3. And I will give unto my two witnesses:  and they shall prophesy, a
thousand two hundred sixty days, clothed in sackcloth.
My two witnesses. . .It is commonly understood of Henoch and Elias.
11:4. These are the two olive trees and the two candlesticks that stand
before the Lord of the earth.
11:5. And if any man will hurt them, fire shall come out of their
mouths and shall devour their enemies.  And if any man will hurt them,
in this manner must he be slain.
11:6. These have power to shut heaven, that it rain not in the days of
their prophecy:  And they have power over waters, to turn them into
blood and to strike the earth with all plagues, as often as they will.
11:7. And when they shall have finished their testimony, the beast that
ascendeth out of the abyss shall make war against them and shall
overcome them and kill them.
11:8. And their bodies shall lie in the streets of the great city which
is called spiritually, Sodom and Egypt:  where their Lord also was
11:9. And they of the tribes and peoples and tongues and nations shall
see their bodies for three days and a half:  and they shall not suffer
their bodies to be laid in sepulchres.
11:10. And they that dwell upon the earth shall rejoice over them and
make merry:  and shall send gifts one to another, because these two
prophets tormented them that dwelt upon the earth.
11:11. And after three days and a half, the spirit of life from God
entered into them.  And they stood upon their feet:  and great fear fell
upon them that saw them.
11:12. And they heard a great voice from heaven, saying to them:  Come
up hither.  And they went up to heaven in a cloud:  and their enemies saw
11:13. And at that hour there was made a great earthquake:  and the
tenth part of the city fell.  And there were slain in the earthquake,
names of men, seven thousand:  and the rest were cast into a fear and
gave glory to the God of heaven.
11:14. The second woe is past:  and behold the third woe will come
11:15. And the seventh angel sounded the trumpet:  and there were great
voices in heaven, saying:  The kingdom of this world is become our
Lord's and his Christ's, and he shall reign for ever and ever.  Amen.
11:16. And the four and twenty ancients who sit on their seats in the
sight of God, fell on their faces and adored God, saying:
11:17. We give thee thanks, O Lord God Almighty, who art and who wast
and who art to come:  because thou hast taken to thee thy great power,
and thou hast reigned.
11:18. And the nations were angry:  and thy wrath is come.  And the time
of the dead, that they should be judged and that thou shouldest render
reward to thy servants the prophets and the saints, and to them that
fear thy name, little and great:  and shouldest destroy them who have
corrupted the earth.
11:19. And the temple of God was opened in heaven:  and the ark of his
testament was seen in his temple.  And there were lightnings and voices
and an earthquake and great hail.
Apocalypse Chapter 12
The vision of the woman clothed with the sun and of the great dragon
her persecutor.
12:1. And a great sign appeared in heaven:  A woman clothed with the
sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve
A woman. . .The church of God.  It may also, by allusion, be applied to
our blessed Lady.  The church is clothed with the sun, that is, with
Christ:  she hath the moon, that is, the changeable things of the world,
under her feet:  and the twelve stars with which she is crowned, are the
twelve apostles:  she is in labour and pain, whilst she brings forth her
children, and Christ in them, in the midst of afflictions and
persecutions.
12:2. And being with child, she cried travailing in birth:  and was in
pain to be delivered.
12:3. And there was seen another sign in heaven.  And behold a great red
dragon, having seven heads and ten horns and on his heads seven
12:4. And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven and cast
them to the earth.  And the dragon stood before the woman who was ready
to be delivered:  that, when she should be delivered, he might devour
12:5. And she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations
with an iron rod.  And her son was taken up to God and to his throne.
12:6. And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she had a place
prepared by God, that there they should feed her, a thousand two
hundred sixty days.
12:7. And there was a great battle in heaven:  Michael and his angels
fought with the dragon, and the dragon fought, and his angels.
12:8. And they prevailed not:  neither was their place found any more in
12:9. And that great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, who is
called the devil and Satan, who seduceth the whole world.  And he was
cast unto the earth:  and his angels were thrown down with him.
12:10. And I heard a loud voice in heaven, saying:  Now is come
salvation and strength and the kingdom of our God and the power of his
Christ:  because the accuser of our brethren is cast forth, who accused
them before our God day and night.
12:11. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word
of the testimony:  and they loved not their lives unto death.
12:12. Therefore, rejoice, O heavens, and you that dwell therein.  Woe
to the earth and to the sea, because the devil is come down unto you,
having great wrath, knowing that he hath but a short time.
12:13. And when the dragon saw that he was cast unto the earth, he
persecuted the woman who brought forth the man child.
12:14. And there were given to the woman two wings of a great eagle,
that she might fly into the desert, unto her place, where she is
nourished for a time and times, and half a time, from the face of the
12:15. And the serpent cast out of his mouth, after the woman, water,
as it were a river:  that he might cause her to be carried away by the
12:16. And the earth helped the woman:  and the earth opened her mouth
and swallowed up the river which the dragon cast out of his mouth.
12:17. And the dragon was angry against the woman:  and went to make war
with the rest of her seed, who keep the commandments of God and have
the testimony of Jesus Christ.
12:18. And he stood upon the sand of the sea.
Apocalypse Chapter 13
Of the beast with seven heads and of a second beast.
13:1. And I saw a beast coming up out the sea, having seven heads and
ten horns:  and upon his horns, ten diadems:  and upon his heads, names
of blasphemy.
A beast. . .This first beast with seven heads and ten horns, is probably
the whole company of infidels, enemies and persecutors of the people of
God, from the beginning to the end of the world.  The seven heads are
seven kings, that is, seven principal kingdoms or empires, which have
exercised, or shall exercise, tyrannical power over the people of God;
of these, five were then fallen, viz.:  the Egyptian, Assyrian,
Chaldean, Persian, and Grecian monarchies:  one was present, viz., the
empire of Rome:  and the seventh and chiefest was to come, viz., the
great Antichrist and his empire.  The ten horns may be understood of ten
lesser persecutors.
13:2. And the beast which I saw was like to a leopard:  and his feet
were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion.  And
the dragon gave him his own strength and great power.
13:3. And I saw one of his heads as it were slain to death:  and his
death's wound was healed.  And all the earth was in admiration after the
One of his heads, etc. . .Some understand this of the mortal wound,
which the idolatry of the Roman empire (signified by the sixth head)
received from Constantine; which was, as it were, healed again by
Julian the Apostate.
13:4. And they adored the dragon which gave power to the beast.  And
they adored the beast, saying:  Who is like to the beast?  And who shall
be able to fight with him?
13:5. And there was given to him a mouth speaking great things and
blasphemies:  and power was given to him to do, two and forty months.
13:6. And he opened his mouth unto blasphemies against God, to
blaspheme his name and his tabernacle and them that dwell in heaven.
His tabernacle, etc. . .That is, his church and his saints.
13:7. And it was given unto him to make war with the saints and to
overcome them.  And power was given him over every tribe and people and
tongue and nation.
13:8. And all that dwell upon the earth adored him, whose names are not
written in the book of life of the Lamb which was slain from the
beginning of the world.
Slain from the beginning, etc. . .In the foreknowledge of God; and
inasmuch as all mercy and grace, from the beginning, was given in view
of his death and passion.
13:9. If any man have an ear, let him hear.
13:10. He that shall lead into captivity shall go into captivity:  he
that shall kill by the sword must be killed by the sword.  Here is the
patience and the faith of the saints.
13:11. And I saw another beast coming up out of the earth:  and he had
two horns, like a lamb:  and he spoke as a dragon.
Another beast. . .This second beast with two horns, may be understood of
the heathenish priests and magicians; the principal promoters both of
idolatry and persecution.
13:12. And he executed all the power of the former beast in his sight.
And he caused the earth and them that dwell therein to adore the first
beast, whose wound to death was healed.
13:13. And he did great signs, so that he made also fire to come down
from heaven unto the earth, in the sight of men.
13:14. And he seduced them that dwell on the earth, for the signs which
were given him to do in the sight of the beast:  saying to them that
dwell on the earth that they should make the image of the beast which
had the wound by the sword and lived.
13:15. And it was given him to give life to the image of the beast:  and
that the image of the beast should speak:  and should cause that
whosoever will not adore the image of the beast should be slain.
13:16. And he shall make all, both little and great, rich and poor,
freemen and bondmen, to have a character in their right hand or on
their foreheads:
13:17. And that no man might buy or sell, but he that hath the
character, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.
13:18. Here is wisdom.  He that hath understanding, let him count the
number of the beast.  For it is the number of a man:  and the number of
him is six hundred sixty-six.
Six hundred sixty-six. . .The numeral letters of his name shall make up
this number.
Apocalypse Chapter 14
Of the Lamb and of the virgins that follow him.  Of the judgments that
shall fall upon the wicked.
14:1. And I beheld:  and lo a Lamb stood upon mount Sion, and with him
an hundred forty-four thousand, having his name and the name of his
Father written on their foreheads.
14:2. And I heard a voice from heaven, as the noise of many waters and
as the voice of great thunder.  And the voice which I heard was as the
voice of harpers, harping on their harps.
14:3. And they sung as it were a new canticle, before the throne and
before the four living creatures and the ancients:  and no man could say
the canticle, but those hundred forty-four thousand who were purchased
from the earth.
14:4. These are they who were not defiled with women:  for they are
virgins.  These follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth.  These were
purchased from among men, the firstfruits to God and to the Lamb.
14:5. And in their mouth there was found no lie:  for they are without
spot before the throne of God.
14:6. And I saw another angel flying through the midst of heaven,
having the eternal gospel, to preach unto them that sit upon the earth
and over every nation and tribe and tongue and people:
14:7. Saying with a loud voice:  Fear the Lord and give him honour,
because the hour of his judgment is come.  And adore ye him that made
heaven and earth, the sea and the fountains of waters.
14:8. And another angel followed, saying:  That great Babylon is fallen,
is fallen; which made all nations to drink of the wine of the wrath of
her fornication.
Babylon. . .By Babylon may be very probably signified all the wicked
world in general, which God will punish, and destroy after the short
time of this mortal life:  or it may signify every great city wherein
enormous sins and abominations are daily committed; and that when the
measure of its iniquities is full, the punishments due to its crimes
are poured on it.  It may also be some city of the description in the
text, that will exist, and be destroyed, as here described, towards the
end of the world.
14:9. And the third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice:  If
any man shall adore the beast and his image and receive his character
in his forehead or in his hand,
14:10. He also shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is
mingled with pure wine in the cup of his wrath:  and shall be tormented
with fire and brimstone in the sight of the holy angels and in the
sight of the Lamb.
14:11. And the smoke of their torments, shall ascend up for ever and
ever:  neither have they rest day nor night, who have adored the beast
and his image and whoever receiveth the character of his name.
14:12. Here is the patience of the saints, who keep the commandments of
God and the faith of Jesus.
14:13. And I heard a voice from heaven, saying to me:  Write:  Blessed
are the dead who die in the Lord.  From henceforth now, saith the
Spirit, that they may rest from their labours.  For their works follow
Die in the Lord. . .It is understood of the martyrs who die for the
14:14. And I saw:  and behold a white cloud and upon the cloud one
sitting like to the Son of man, having on his head a crown of gold and
in his hand a sharp sickle.
14:15. And another angel came out from the temple, crying with a loud
voice to him that sat upon the cloud:  Thrust in thy sickle and reap,
because the hour is come to reap.  For the harvest of the earth is ripe.
14:16. And he that sat on the cloud thrust his sickle into the earth:
and the earth was reaped.
14:17. And another angel came out of the temple which is in heaven, he
also having a sharp sickle.
14:18. And another angel came out from the altar, who had power over
fire.  And he cried with a loud voice to him that had the sharp sickle,
saying:  Thrust in thy sharp sickle and gather the clusters of the
vineyard of the earth, because the grapes thereof are ripe.
14:19. And the angel thrust in his sharp sickle into the earth and
gathered the vineyard of the earth and cast it into the great press of
the wrath of God:
14:20. And the press was trodden without the city, and blood came out
of the press, up to the horses' bridles, for a thousand and six hundred
Apocalypse Chapter 15
They that have overcome the beast glorify God.  Of the seven angels with
the seven vials.
15:1. And I saw another sign in heaven, great and wonderful:  seven
angels having the seven last plagues.  For in them is filled up the
wrath of God.
15:2. And I saw as it were a sea of glass mingled with fire:  and them
that had overcome the beast and his image and the number of his name,
standing on the sea of glass, having the harps of God:
15:3. And singing the canticle of Moses, the servant of God, and the
canticle of the Lamb, saying:  Great and wonderful are thy works, O Lord
God Almighty.  Just and true are thy ways, O King of ages.
15:4. Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and magnify thy name?  For thou
only art holy.  For all nations shall come and shall adore in thy sight,
because thy judgments are manifest.
15:5. And after these things, I looked:  and behold, the temple of the
tabernacle of the testimony in heaven was opened.
15:6. And the seven angels came out of the temple, having the seven
plagues, clothed with clean and white linen and girt about the breasts
with golden girdles.
15:7. And one of the four living creatures gave to the seven angels
seven golden vials, full of the wrath of God, who liveth for ever and
15:8. And the temple was filled with smoke from the majesty of God and
from his power.  And no man was able to enter into the temple, till the
seven plagues of the seven angels were fulfilled.
Apocalypse Chapter 16
The seven vials are poured out.  The plagues that ensue.
16:1. And I heard a great voice out of the temple, saying to the seven
angels:  Go and pour out the seven vials of the wrath of God upon the
16:2. And the first went and poured out his vial upon the earth.  And
there fell a sore and grievous wound upon men who had the character of
the beast:  and upon them that adored the image thereof.
16:3. And the second angel poured out his vial upon the sea.  And there
came blood as it were of a dead man:  and every living soul died in the
16:4. And the third poured out his vial upon the rivers and the
fountains of waters.  And there was made blood.
16:5. And I heard the angel of the waters saying:  Thou art just, O
Lord, who art and who wast, the Holy One, because thou hast judged
these things.
16:6. For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets:  and thou
hast given them blood to drink.  For they are worthy.
16:7. And I heard another, from the altar, saying:  Yea, O Lord God
Almighty, true and just are thy judgments.
16:8. And the fourth angel poured out his vial upon the sun.  And it was
given unto him to afflict men with heat and fire.
16:9. And men were scorched with great heat:  and they blasphemed the
name of God, who hath power over these plagues.  Neither did they
penance to give him glory.
16:10. And the fifth angel poured out his vial upon the seat of the
beast.  And his kingdom became dark:  and they gnawed their tongues for
16:11. And they blasphemed the God of heaven, because of their pains
and wounds:  and did not penance for their works.
16:12. And the sixth angel poured out his vial upon that great river
Euphrates and dried up the water thereof, that a way might be prepared
for the kings from the rising of the sun.
16:13. And I saw from the mouth of the dragon and from the mouth of the
beast and from the mouth of the false prophet, three unclean spirits
16:14. For they are the spirits of devils, working signs:  and they go
forth unto the kings of the whole earth, to gather them to battle
against the great day of the Almighty God.
16:15. Behold, I come as a thief.  Blessed is he that watcheth and
keepeth his garments, lest he walk naked, and they see his shame.
16:16. And he shall gather them together into a place which in Hebrew
is called Armagedon.
Armagedon. . .That is, the hill of robbers.
16:17. And the seventh angel poured out his vial upon the air.  And
there came a great voice out of the temple from the throne, saying:  It
16:18. And there were lightnings and voices and thunders:  and there was
a great earthquake, such an one as never had been since men were upon
the earth, such an earthquake, so great.
16:19. And the great city was divided into three parts:  and the cities
of the Gentiles fell.  And great Babylon came in remembrance before God,
to give her the cup of the wine of the indignation of his wrath.
16:20. And every island fled away:  and the mountains were not found.
16:21. And great hail, like a talent, came down from heaven upon men:
and men blasphemed God, for the plague of the hail:  because it was
exceeding great.
Apocalypse Chapter 17
The description of the great harlot and of the beast upon which she
17:1. And there came one of the seven angels who had the seven vials
and spoke with me, saying:  Come, I will shew thee the condemnation of
the great harlot, who sitteth upon many waters:
17:2. With whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication.  And
they who inhabit the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her
17:3. And he took me away in spirit into the desert.  And I saw a woman
sitting upon a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy,
having seven heads and ten horns.
17:4. And the woman was clothed round about with purple and scarlet,
and gilt with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup
in her hand, full of the abomination and filthiness of her fornication.
17:5. And on her forehead a name was written:  A mystery:  Babylon the
great, the mother of the fornications and the abominations of the
A mystery. . .That is, a secret; because what follows of the name and
title of the great harlot is to be taken in a mystical sense.
Babylon. . .Either the city of the devil in general; or, if this place
be to be understood of any particular city, pagan Rome, which then and
for three hundred years persecuted the church; and was the principal
seat both of empire and idolatry.
17:6. And I saw the woman drunk with the blood of the saints and with
the blood of the martyrs of Jesus.  And I wondered, when I had seen her,
with great admiration.
17:7. And the angel said to me:  Why dost thou wonder?  I will tell thee
the mystery of the woman and of the beast which carrieth her, which
hath the seven heads and ten horns.
17:8. The beast which thou sawest, was, and is not, and shall come up
out of the bottomless pit and go into destruction.  And the inhabitants
on the earth (whose names are not written in the book of life from the
foundation of the world) shall wonder, seeing the beast that was and is
The beast which thou sawest. . .This beast which supports Babylon, may
signify the power of the devil:  which was and is not, being much
limited by the coming of Christ, but shall again exert itself under
Antichrist.  The seven heads of this beast are seven mountains or
empires, instruments of his tyranny; of which five were then fallen.
(See chap. 13.1, and below, ver. 10.)  The beast itself is said to be
the eighth, and is of the seven; because they all act under the devil,
and by his instigation, so that his power is in them all, yet so as to
make up, as it were, an eighth empire, distinct from them all.
17:9. And here is the understanding that hath wisdom.  The seven heads
are seven mountains, upon which the woman sitteth:  and they are seven
17:10. Five are fallen, one is, and the other is not yet come:  and when
he is come, he must remain a short time.
17:11. And the beast which was and is not:  the same also is the eighth,
and is of the seven, and goeth into destruction.
17:12. And the ten horns which thou sawest are ten kings, who have not
yet received a kingdom:  but shall receive power as kings, one hour
after the beast.
Ten kings. . .Ten lesser kingdoms, enemies also of the church of Christ:
which, nevertheless, shall be made instruments of the justice of God
for the punishment of Babylon.  Some understand this of the Goths,
Vandals, Huns, and other barbarous nations, that destroyed the empire
17:13. These have one design:  and their strength and power they shall
deliver to the beast.
17:14. These shall fight with the Lamb.  And the Lamb shall overcome
them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings:  and they that are
with him are called and elect and faithful.
17:15. And he said to me:  The waters which thou sawest, where the
harlot sitteth, are peoples and nations and tongues.
17:16. And the ten horns which thou sawest in the beast:  These shall
hate the harlot and shall make her desolate and naked and shall eat her
flesh and shall burn her with fire.
17:17. For God hath given into their hearts to do that which pleaseth
him:  that they give their kingdom to the beast, till the words of God
be fulfilled.
17:18. And the woman which thou sawest is the great city which hath
kingdom over the kings of the earth.
Apocalypse Chapter 18
The fall of Babylon.  Kings and merchants lament over her.
18:1. And after these things, I saw another angel come down from
heaven, having great power:  and the earth was enlightened with his
18:2. And he cried out with a strong voice, saying:  Babylon the great
is fallen, is fallen:  and is become the habitation of devils and the
hold of every unclean spirit and the hold of every unclean and hateful
18:3. Because all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her
fornication:  and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with
her; And the merchants of the earth have been made rich by the power of
her delicacies.
18:4. And I heard another voice from heaven, saying:  Go out from her,
my people; that you be not partakers of her sins and that you receive
not of her plagues.
18:5. For her sins have reached unto heaven:  and the Lord hath
remembered her iniquities.
18:6. Render to her as she also hath rendered to you:  and double unto
her double, according to her works.  In the cup wherein she hath
mingled, mingle ye double unto her.
18:7. As much as she hath glorified herself and lived in delicacies, so
much torment and sorrow give ye to her.  Because she saith in her heart:
I sit a queen and am no widow:  and sorrow I shall not see.
18:8. Therefore, shall her plagues come in one day, death and mourning
and famine.  And she shall be burnt with the fire:  because God is
strong, who shall judge her.
18:9. And the kings of the earth, who have committed fornication and
lived in delicacies with her, shall weep and bewail themselves over
her, when they shall see the smoke of her burning:
18:10. Standing afar off for fear of her torments, saying:  Alas!  alas!
that great city, Babylon, that mighty city:  for in one hour is thy
judgment come.
18:11. And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her:
for no man shall buy their merchandise any more.
18:12. Merchandise of gold and silver and precious stones:  and of
pearls and fine linen and purple and silk and scarlet:  and all thyine
wood:  and all manner of vessels of ivory:  and all manner of vessels of
precious stone and of brass and of iron and of marble:
18:13. And cinnamon and odours and ointment and frankincense and wine
and oil and fine flour and wheat and beasts and sheep and horses and
chariots:  and slaves and souls of men.
18:14. And the fruits of the desire of thy soul are departed from thee:
and all fat and goodly things are perished from thee.  And they shall
find them no more at all.
18:15. The merchants of these things, who were made rich, shall stand
afar off from her, for fear of her torments, weeping and mourning,
18:16. And saying:  Alas!  alas!  that great city, which was clothed with
fine linen and purple and scarlet and was gilt with gold and precious
stones and pearls.
18:17. For in one hour are so great riches come to nought.  And every
shipmaster and all that sail into the lake, and mariners, and as many
as work in the sea, stood afar off,
18:18. And cried, seeing the place of her burning, saying:  What city is
like to this great city?
18:19. And they cast dust upon their heads and cried, weeping and
mourning, saying:  Alas!  alas!  that great city, wherein all were made
rich, that had ships at sea, by reason of her prices.  For, in one hour
she is made desolate.
18:20. Rejoice over her, thou heaven and ye holy apostles and prophets.
For God hath judged your judgment on her.
18:21. And a mighty angel took up a stone, as it were a great
millstone, and cast it into the sea, saying:  With such violence as
this, shall Babylon, that great city, be thrown down and shall be found
no more at all.
18:22. And the voice of harpers and of musicians and of them that play
on the pipe and on the trumpet shall no more be heard at all in thee:
and no craftsman of any art whatsoever shall be found any more at all
in thee:  and the sound of the mill shall be heard no more at all in
18:23. And the light of the lamp shall shine no more at all in thee:
and the voice of the bridegroom and the bride shall be heard no more at
all in thee.  For thy merchants were the great men of the earth:  for all
nations have been deceived by thy enchantments.
18:24. And in her was found the blood of prophets and of saints and of
all that were slain upon the earth.
Apocalypse Chapter 19
The saints glorify God for his judgments on the great harlot.  Christ's
victory over the beast and the kings of the earth.
19:1. After these things, I heard as it were the voice of much people
in heaven, saying:  Alleluia.  Salvation and glory and power is to our
19:2. For true and just are his judgments, who hath judged the great
harlot which corrupted the earth with her fornication and hath revenged
the blood of his servants, at her hands.
19:3. And again they said:  Alleluia.  And her smoke ascendeth for ever
19:4. And the four and twenty ancients and the four living creatures
fell down and adored God that sitteth upon the throne, saying:  Amen.
19:5. And a voice came out from the throne, saying:  Give praise to our
God, all ye his servants:  and you that fear him, little and great.
19:6. And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the
voice of many waters, and as the voice of great thunders, saying:
Alleluia:  for the Lord our God, the Almighty, hath reigned.
19:7. Let us be glad and rejoice and give glory to him.  For the
marriage of the Lamb is come:  and his wife hath prepared herself.
19:8. And it is granted to her that she should clothe herself with fine
linen, glittering and white.  For the fine linen are the justifications
19:9. And he said to me:  Write:  Blessed are they that are called to the
marriage supper of the Lamb.  And he saith to me:  These words of God are
19:10. And I fell down before his feet, to adore him.  And he saith to
me:  See thou do it not.  I am thy fellow servant and of thy brethren who
have the testimony of Jesus.  Adore God.  For the testimony of Jesus is
the spirit of prophecy.
I fell down before, etc. . .St. Augustine (lib. 20, contra Faust, c. 21)
is of opinion, that this angel appeared in so glorious a manner, that
St. John took him to be God; and therefore would have given him divine
honour had not the angel stopped him, by telling him he was but his
fellow servant.  St. Gregory (Hom. 8, in Evang.) rather thinks that the
veneration offered by St. John, was not divine honour, or indeed any
other than what might lawfully be given; but was nevertheless refused
by the angel, in consideration of the dignity to which our human nature
had been raised, by the incarnation of the Son of God, and the dignity
of St. John, an apostle, prophet, and martyr.
19:11. And I saw heaven opened:  and behold a white horse.  And he that
sat upon him was called faithful and true:  and with justice doth he
judge and fight.
19:12. And his eyes were as a flame of fire:  and on his head were many
diadems.  And he had a name written, which no man knoweth but himself.
19:13. And he was clothed with a garment sprinkled with blood.  And his
name is called:  THE WORD OF GOD.
19:14. And the armies that are in heaven followed him on white horses,
clothed in fine linen, white and clean.
19:15. And out of his mouth proceedeth a sharp two-edged sword, that
with it he may strike the nations.  And he shall rule them with a rod of
iron:  and he treadeth the winepress of the fierceness of the wrath of
God the Almighty.
19:16. And he hath on his garment and on his thigh written:  KING OF
KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.
19:17. And I saw an angel standing in the sun:  and he cried with a loud
voice, saying to all the birds that did fly through the midst of
heaven:  Come, gather yourselves together to the great supper of God:
19:18. That you may eat the flesh of kings and the flesh of tribunes
and the flesh of mighty men and the flesh of horses and of them that
sit on them:  and the flesh of all freemen and bondmen and of little and
19:19. And I saw the beast and the kings of the earth and their armies,
gathered together to make war with him that sat upon the horse and with
19:20. And the beast was taken, and with him the false prophet who
wrought signs before him, wherewith he seduced them who received the
character of the beast and who adored his image.  These two were cast
alive into the pool of fire burning with brimstone.
19:21. And the rest were slain by the sword of him that sitteth upon
the horse, which proceedeth out of his mouth:  and all the birds were
filled with their flesh.
Apocalypse Chapter 20
Satan is bound for a thousand years.  The souls of the martyrs reign
with Christ in the first resurrection.  The last attempts of Satan
against the church.  The last judgment.
20:1. And I saw an angel coming down from heaven, having the key of the
bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand.
20:2. And he laid hold on the dragon, the old serpent, which is the
devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years.
Bound him, etc. . .The power of Satan has been very much limited by the
passion of Christ:  for a thousand years; that is, for the whole time of
the New Testament; but especially from the time of the destruction of
Babylon or pagan Rome, till the new efforts of Gog and Magog against
the church, towards the end of the world.  During which time the souls
of the martyrs and saints live and reign with Christ in heaven, in the
first resurrection, which is that of the soul to the life of glory; as
the second resurrection will be that of the body, at the day of the
general judgment.
20:3. And he cast him into the bottomless pit and shut him up and set a
seal upon him, that he should no more seduce the nations till the
thousand years be finished.  And after that, he must be loosed a little
20:4. And I saw seats.  And they sat upon them:  and judgment was given
unto them.  And the souls of them that were beheaded for the testimony
of Jesus and for the word of God and who had not adored the beast nor
his image nor received his character on their foreheads or in their
hands.  And they lived and reigned with Christ a thousand years.
20:5. The rest of the dead lived not, till the thousand years were
finished.  This is the first resurrection.
20:6. Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection.
In these the second death hath no power.  But they shall be priests of
God and of Christ:  and shall reign with him a thousand years.
20:7. And when the thousand years shall be finished, Satan shall be
loosed out of his prison and shall go forth and seduce the nations
which are over the four quarters of the earth, Gog and Magog:  and shall
gather them together to battle, the number of whom is as the sand of
20:8. And they came upon the breadth of the earth and encompassed the
camp of the saints and the beloved city.
20:9. And there came down fire from God out of heaven and devoured
them:  and the devil, who seduced them, was cast into the pool of fire
and brimstone, where both the beast
20:10. And the false prophet shall be tormented day and night for ever
20:11. And I saw a great white throne and one sitting upon it, from
whose face the earth and heaven fled away:  and there was no place found
20:12. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing in the presence of
the throne.  And the books were opened:  and another book was opened,
which was the book of life.  And the dead were judged by those things
which were written in the books, according to their works.
20:13. And the sea gave up the dead that were in it:  and death and hell
gave up their dead that were in them.  And they were judged, every one
according to their works.
20:14. And hell and death were cast into the pool of fire.  This is the
second death.
20:15. And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast
into the pool of fire.
Apocalypse Chapter 21
The new Jerusalem described.
21:1. I saw a new heaven and a new earth.  For the first heaven and the
first earth was gone:  and the sea is now no more.
The first heaven and the first earth was gone. . .being changed, not as
to their substance, but in their qualities.
21:2. And I, John, saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down
out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.
21:3. And I heard a great voice from the throne, saying:  Behold the
tabernacle of God with men:  and he will dwell with them.  And they shall
be his people:  and God himself with them shall be their God.
21:4. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes:  and death
shall be no more.  Nor mourning, nor crying, nor sorrow shall be any
more, for the former things are passed away.
21:5. And he that sat on the throne, said:  Behold, I make all things
new.  And he said to me:  Write.  For these words are most faithful and
21:6. And he said to me:  It is done.  I am Alpha and Omega:  the
Beginning and the End.  To him that thirsteth, I will give of the
fountain of the water of life, freely.
21:7. He that shall overcome shall possess these things.  And I will be
his God:  and he shall be my son.
21:8. But the fearful and unbelieving and the abominable and murderers
and whoremongers and sorcerers and idolaters and all liars, they shall
have their portion in the pool burning with fire and brimstone, which
is the second death.
21:9. And there came one of the seven angels, who had the vials full of
the seven last plagues, and spoke with me, saying:  Come and I will shew
thee the bride, the wife of the Lamb.
21:10. And he took me up in spirit to a great and high mountain:  and he
shewed me the holy city Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God,
21:11. Having the glory of God, and the light thereof was like to a
precious stone, as to the jasper stone even as crystal.
21:12. And it had a wall great and high, having twelve gates, and in
the gates twelve angels, and names written thereon, which are the names
of the twelve tribes of the children of Israel.
21:13. On the east, three gates:  and on the north, three gates:  and on
the south, three gates:  and on the west, three gates.
21:14. And the wall of the city had twelve foundations:  And in them,
the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb,
21:15. And he that spoke with me had a measure of a reed of gold, to
measure the city and the gates thereof and the wall.
21:16. And the city lieth in a four-square:  and the length thereof is
as great as the breadth.  And he measured the city with the golden reed
for twelve thousand furlongs:  and the length and the height and the
breadth thereof are equal.
21:17. And he measured the wall thereof an hundred forty-four cubits,
the measure of a man, which is of an angel.
The measure of a man, i.e., According to the measure of men, and used
by the angel. . .This seems to be the true meaning of these words.
21:18. And the building of the wall thereof was of jasper stone:  but
the city itself pure gold like to clear glass.
21:19. And the foundations of the wall of the city were adorned with
all manner of precious stones.  The first foundation was jasper:  the
second, sapphire:  the third; a chalcedony:  the fourth, an emerald:
21:20. The fifth, sardonyx:  the sixth, sardius:  the seventh,
chrysolite:  the eighth, beryl:  the ninth, a topaz:  the tenth, a
chrysoprasus:  the eleventh, a jacinth:  the twelfth, an amethyst.
21:21. And the twelve gates are twelve pearls, one to each:  and every
several gate was of one several pearl.  And the street of the city was
pure gold, as it were, transparent glass.
21:22. And I saw no temple therein.  For the Lord God Almighty is the
temple thereof, and the Lamb.
21:23. And the city hath no need of the sun, nor of the moon, to shine
in it.  For the glory of God hath enlightened it:  and the Lamb is the
lamp thereof.
21:24. And the nations shall walk in the light of it:  and the kings of
the earth shall bring their glory and honour into it.
21:25. And the gates thereof shall not be shut by day:  for there shall
be no night there.
21:26. And they shall bring the glory and honour of the nations into
21:27. There shall not enter into it any thing defiled or that worketh
abomination or maketh a lie:  but they that are written in the book of
life of the Lamb.
Apocalypse Chapter 22
The water and tree of life.  The conclusion.
22:1. And he shewed me a river of water of life, clear as crystal,
proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb.
22:2. In the midst of the street thereof, and on both sides of the
river, was the tree of life, bearing twelve fruits, yielding its fruits
every month:  the leaves of the tree for the healing of the nations.
22:3. And there shall be no curse any more:  but the throne of God and
of the Lamb shall be in it.  And his servants shall serve him.
22:4. And they shall see his face:  and his name shall be on their
22:5. And night shall be no more.  And they shall not need the light of
the lamp, nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God shall
enlighten then.  And they shall reign for ever and ever.
22:6. And he said to me:  These words are most faithful and true.  And
the Lord God of the spirits of the prophets sent his angel to shew his
servant the things which must be done shortly.
22:7. And:  Behold I come quickly.  Blessed is he that keepeth the words
of the prophecy of this book.
22:8. And I, John, who have heard and seen these things.  And, after I
had heard and seen, I fell down to adore before the feet of the angel
who shewed me the things.
22:9. And he said to me:  See thou do it not.  For I am thy fellow
servant, and of thy brethren the prophets and of them that keep the
words of the prophecy of this book.  Adore God.
22:10. And he saith to me:  Seal not the words of the prophecy of this
book.  For the time is at hand.
For the time is at hand. . .That is, when compared to eternity, all time
and temporal things vanish, and are but of short duration.  As to the
time when the chief predictions should come to pass, we have no
certainty, as appears by the different opinions, both of the ancient
fathers and late interpreters.  Many think that most things set down
from the 4th chapter to the end, will not be fulfilled till a little
time before the end of the world.  Others are of opinion, that a great
part of them, and particularly the fall of the wicked Babylon, happened
at the destruction of paganism, by the destruction of heathen Rome, and
its persecuting heathen emperors.  Of these interpretations, see
Aleazar, in his long commentary; see the learned Bossnet, bishop of
Meaux, in his treatise on this Book; and P. Alleman, in his notes on
the same Apocalypse, tom. 12, who in his Preface says, that this, in a
great measure, may be now looked upon as the opinion followed by the
learned men.  In fine, others think that St. John's design was in a
mystical way, by metaphors and allegories, to represent the attempts
and persecutions of the wicked against the servants of God, the
punishments that should in a short time fall upon Babylon, that is,
upon all the wicked in general:  the eternal happiness and reward, which
God had reserved for the pious inhabitants of Jerusalem, that is, for
his faithful servants, after their short trials and the tribulations of
this mortal life.  In the mean time we meet with many profitable
instructions and admonitions, which we may easily enough understand:
but we have no certainty when we apply these predictions to particular
events:  for as St. Jerome takes notice, the Apocalypse has as many
mysteries as words, or rather mysteries in every word.  Apocalypsis
Joannis tot habet Sacramenta quot verba--parum dixi, in verbis
singulis multiplices latent intelligentiae.  Ep. ad Paulin, t. 4. p.
574.  Edit.  Benedict.
22:11. He that hurteth, let him hurt still:  and he that is filthy, let
him be filthy still:  and he that is just, let him be justified still:
and he that is holy, let him be sanctified still.
Let him hurt still. . .It is not an exhortation, or license to go on in
sin; but an intimation, that how far soever the wicked may proceed,
their progress shall quickly end, and then they must expect to meet
with proportionable punishments.
22:12. Behold, I come quickly:  and my reward is with me, to render to
every, man according to his works.
22:13. I am Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and
22:14. Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb:
that they may have a right to the tree of life and may enter in by the
gates into the city.
22:15. Without are dogs and sorcerers and unchaste and murderers and
servers of idols and every one that loveth and maketh a lie.
22:16. I, Jesus, have sent my angel, to testify to you these things in
the churches.  I am the root and stock of David, the bright and morning
22:17. And the spirit and the bride say:  Come.  And he that heareth, let
him say:  Come.  And he that thirsteth, let him come.  And he that will,
let him take the water of life, freely.
22:18. For I testify to every one that heareth the words of the
prophecy of this book:  If any man shall add to these things, God shall
add unto him the plagues written in this book.
22:19. And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of
this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life,
and out of the holy city, and from these things that are written in
22:20. He that giveth testimony of these things, saith:  Surely, I come
quickly:  Amen.  Come, Lord Jesus.
22:21. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.  Amen.
These texts come from the 1582 Rhemes and 1610 Doway printings of the
portions of the Bible (see the 'History' section at the top of the
e-text).  The primary sources provide a glimpse both into the history of
the Douay-Rheims version and the English language itself.  The reader
will quickly notice that the letter 'j' does not appear in the texts,
rather 'i' functions either as a vowel or a consonant.  Likewise 'u' is
not a distinct letter; it is employed typographically in the lower-case
in place of 'v' where not starting a word.  The letters 'u' and 'v' both
function either as vowels or consonants.  The word 'vniuersity'
demonstrates this rule.  The letter 'w' is often employed, but in many
cases the earlier form of a double-v (vv) appears instead.
The transcriber has done his best to render the text accurately.  Note
the relaxed spelling standards of the time; many variants appear.  While
the errata section from the 1610 edition observed:  "We haue also found
some other faultes of lesse importance; and feare there be more.  But we
trust the reader may easely correct them, as they occurre." only obvious
errors have been amended.  Where the transcriber has doubt between
whether an irregular spelling is either an error and a variant, the
printed text stands.  7-bit ASCII cannot fully represent the
typographical standards of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and
many special characters have been replaced with modern equivalents.
Where verse numbers stand in the margins of the printed texts, they have
been transferred to the body; the verse numbers in the 'Prayer of
Manasses' have been supplied from other versions.  Reference notes have
been transferred from the margins, and their abbreviations modernized.
ADDITIONAL BOOKS
The prayer of Manasses, vvith the third & fourth Bookes of Esdras, extant
in most Latin and vulgare Bibles, are here placed after al the Canonical
bookes, of the old Testament:  because they are not receiued into the
Canon of Diuine Scriptures by the Catholique Church.
THE PRAYER OF MANASSES KING OF IVDA, WHEN HE WAS HELD CAPTIVE IN BABYLON.
LORD omnipotent God of our fathers, Abraham, & Isaac, and Iacob, and of
their iust sede, (2 Par 33:12) [2] which didst make heauen and earth:
with al the ornamentes of them, [3] which hast bound the sea with the
word of thy precept, which hast shut vp the depth, and sealed it with
thy terrible and laudable name:  [4] whom al thinges dread, & tremble at
the countinance of thy powre, [5] because the magnificence of thy glorie
is importable, & the wrath of thy threatning vpon sinners is
intollerable:  [6] but the mercie of thy promise is infinite and
vnsearchable:  [7] because thou art our Lord, most high, benigne, long
suffering, and very merciful, and penitent vpon the wickednes of men.
Thou Lord according to the multitude of thy goodnes hast promised
penance, and remission to them that haue sinned to thee, and by the
multitude of thy mercies thou hast decreed penance to sinners, vnto
saluation.  [8] Thou therfore Lord God of the iust, hast not appointed
penance to the iust, Abraham, & Isaac and Iacob, them that haue not
sinned to thee, but hast appointed penance for me a sinner:  [9] because
I haue sinned aboue the number of the sand of the sea.  Myne iniquities
Lord be multiplied, mine iniquities be multiplied, and I am not worthie
to behold, & looke vpon the height of heauen, for the multitude of mine
iniquities.  [10] I am made crooked with manie a band of yron, that I can
not lift vp my head, and I haue not respiration:  because I haue stirred
vp thy wrath, and haue done euil before thee:  I haue not done thy wil,
and thy commandmentes I haue not kept:  I haue set vp abominations, and
multiplied offenses.  [11] And now I bowe the knee of my hart, beseeching
goodnes of thee.  [12] I haue sinned Lord, I haue sinned, & I acknowlege
myne iniquities.  [13] Wherefore I beseech disiring thee, forgeue me
Lord, forgeue me:  and destroy me not together with myne iniquities,
neither reserue thou for euer, being angrie, euils for me, neither damme
me into the lowest places of the earth:  because thou art Lord, God, I
say, of the penitent:  [14] in me thou shalt shew al thy goodnes because
thou shalt saue me vnworthie according to thy great mercie, [15] and I
wil prayse thee alwayes al the dayes of my life:  because al the power of
the heauens prayseth thee, and to thee is glorie for euer and euer.
THE THIRD BOOKE OF ESDRAS.
For helpe of the readers, especially such as haue not leysure to read al,
vve haue gathered the contentes of the chapters; but made no Annotations:
because the text it self is but as a Commentarie to the Canonical bookes;
and therfore we haue only added the concordance of other Scriptures in
Iosias king of Iuda maketh a great Pasch, 7. geuing manie hostes to such
as wanted for sacrifice:  14. the Priestes and Leuites performing their
functions therin:  22. in the eightenth yeare of his reigne, 25. He is
slayne in battel by the king of AEgypt, 32. and much lamented by the
Iewes.  34. His sonne Ieconias succedeth.  37. After him Ioacim, 40. who
is deposed by the king of Babylon.  43. Ioachim reigneth three monethes,
and is caried into Babylon.  46. Sedecias reigneth eleuen yeares
wickedly.  52. and he with his people is caried captiue into Babylon, the
citie and temple are destroyed.  57. so remayned til the Monarchie of the
AND Iosias made a Pasch in Ierusalem to our Lord & immolated the Phase
the fourtenth moone of the moneth:  (4 Kings 23:21 / 2 Par 35:1)
2 appointing the Priestes by courses of dayes clothed with stoles in the
temple of our Lord.  3 And he spake to the Leuites the sacred seruantes
of Isreal, that they should sanctifie them selues to our Lord in the
placing of the holie arke of our Lord in the house, which king Salomon
sonne of Dauid built.  4 It shal not be for you to take it vpon your
shoulders.  And now serue your Lord, and take the care of that nation
Israel, in part according to your villages and tribes, 5 according to the
writing of Dauid king of Israel, and according to the magnificence of
Salomon his sonne, al in the temple, and according to your fathers
portion of principalitie, among them that stand in the sight of your
brethren the children of Isreal.  6 Immolate the Pasch, and prepare the
sacrifices for your bretheren, and doe according to the precept of our
Lord which was geuen to Moyses.  (Ex 12 / Lev 23 / Num 28)  7 And Iosias
gaue vnto the people that was found of sheepe, lambes, and kiddes, and
goates thirtie thousand, calues there thousand.  8 These thinges were
geuen to the people of the kinges goodes according to promisse:  and to
the priestes for the Phase, sheepe in number two thousand, and calues an
hundred.  9 And Iechonias, and Semeias, and Nathanael bretheren, and
Hasabias, and Oziel, and Coraba for the Phase sheepe fiue thousand,
calues fiue hundred.  10 And when these thinges were done in good order,
the Priestes an the Leuites stood hauing azymes by tribes.  11 And
according to the portions of their fathers principalitie, in the sight of
the people they did offer, to our Lord according to those thinges, which
were written in the booke of Moyses:  12 and rosted the Phase with fire
as it ought:  and the hostes they boyled in cauldrons, and in pottes with
beneuolence:  13 and they brought to al that were of the people:  and
afterward they prepared for them selues and the priestes.  14 For the
Priestes offered the fatte, vntil the houre was ended:  and the Leuites
prepared for them selues, and their brethren, the children of Aaron.
15 And the sacred singing men, the children of Asaph were by order
according to the precept of Dauid and Asaph, and Zacharias, and Ieddimus,
which was from the king.  16 And the porters at euerie gate, so that none
transgressed his owne:  for their brethren prepared for them.  17 And the
thinges were consummate that perteyned to the sacrifice of our Lord.
18 In that day they celebrated the Phase, and offered hostes vpon the
sacrifice of our Lord, according to the precept of king Iosias.  19 And
the children of Israel, that were found at that time, celebrated the
Phase:  and the festiual day of Azymes for seuen dayes:  20 and there was
not celebrated such a Phase in Isreal, from the times of Samuel the
prophet:  21 and al the kinges of Israel did not celebrate such a Phase
as Iosias did, and the Priestes, and the Leuites, and the Iewes, and al
Israel, that were found in their abode at Ierusalem.  22 In the eightenth
yeare, Iosias reigning was the Phase celebrated.  23 And the workes of
Iosias were directed in the sight of his Lord in a hart ful of feare:
24 and the thinges concerning him are writen in the ancient times,
touching them that sinned, and were irreligous against our Lord aboue al
nations, and that sought not the wordes of our Lord vpon Israel.  25 And
after al this fact of Iosias, came vp Pharao the king of AEgypt comming
in Charcamis from the way vpon Euphrates, and Iosias went forth to meete
him.  (4 Kings 23:29 / 2 Par 35:20)  26 And the king of AEgypt sent to
Iosias saying:  What is there betwen me & thee king of Iuda?  27 I was
not sent of the Lord to fight against thee:  for my battel is vpon
Euphrates, goe downe in hast.  28 And Iosias did not returne vpon his
chariote:  but endeuoured to ouerthrow him, not attending the word of the
prophet from the mouth of our Lord:  29 but he made battel against him in
the field of Mageddo.  And princes went downe to king Iosias.  30 And the
king said to his seruantes:  Remoue me from the battel, for I am weakned
excedingly.  And forthwith his seruantes remoued him out of the battel.
31 And he went vp into his second chariote:  & comming to Ierusalem,
dyed, and was buried in his fathers sepulchre.  32 And in al Iurie they
mourned for Iosias, & the rulers with their wiues lamented him vntil this
day.  And this was geuen out to be done alwayes vnto al the stocke of
Israel.  33 But these thinges were writen before in the booke of the
histories of the kinges of Iuda:  and al the actes of the doing of
Iosias, and his glorie and his vnderstanding in the law of our Lord:  and
the thinges that were done by him, and that are not writen in the booke
of the kinges of Israel and Iuda.  34 And they that were of the nation,
taking Iechonias the sonne of Iosias, made him king for Iosias his
father, when he was three and twentie yeares old.  (4 Kings 23:30 /
2 Par 36:1)  35 And he reigned ouer Israel three monethes.  And the king
of AEgypt remoued him, that he should not reigne in Ierusalem:  36 and he
put a taxe vpon the nation of siluer an hundred talentes, and of gold one
talent.  37 And the king of AEgypt made Ioacim his brother king of Iuda
and Ierusalem:  38 and he bound the magistrates of Ioacim, and Zaracel
his brother, and taking them brought them backe into AEgypt.  39 Ioacim
was fiue and twentie yeares old when he began to reigne in the land of
Iuda and Ierusalem:  and he did euil in the sight of our Lord.  40 And
after this man came vp Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon, and binding
him with a bande of brasse, brought him into Babylon.  41 And
Nabuchodonosor tooke the sacred vessels of our Lord, and carried away,
and consecrated them in his temple in Babylon.  42 For his vncleanes, and
lacke of religion is written in the booke of the times of the kinges.
43 And Ioachin his sonne reigned for him.  And when he was made king, he
was eightene yeares old.  44 And reigned three monethes and ten dayes in
Ierusalem, and did euil in the sight of our Lord:  45 and after a yeare
Nabuchodonosor sending, transported him into Babylon together with the
sacred vessels of our Lord.  (4 Kings 24:13)  46 And he made Sedecias
king of Iuda and Ierusalem, when he was one and twentie yeares old:
(4 Kings 24:17)  and he reigned eleuen yeares.  47 And he did euil in the
sight of our Lord, and was not afraid of the wordes which were spoken by
Ieremie the prophet from the mouth of our Lord:  (Jer 37:2)  48 and being
sworne of king Nabuchodonosor, forsworne he did reuolt:  and his necke
being hardened, & his hart, he transgressed the ordinances of our Lord
the God of Israel.  49 And the princes of the people of our Lord did
manie thinges wickedly, and they did impiously aboue al the vncleannes of
the nations:  and they polluted the temple of our Lord that was holie of
Ierusalem.  50 And the God of their fathers sent by his messenger to
reclame them, for that he would spare them, and his tabernacle.  51 But
they scorned at his messengers:  and in the day that our Lord spake to
them, they were mocking his prophetes.  52 Who was moued euen vnto wrath
vpon his nation for their impietie, and commanded the kinges of the
Chaldees to come vp.  53 These slewe their yong men with the sword, round
about their holie temple, and spared not yong man, and old man, and
virgin, and youth:  54 but al were deliuered into their handes:  & taking
al the sacred vessels of our Lord, and the kinges treasures, they caried
them into Babylon, 55 and burnt the house of our Lord, and threwe downe
the walles of Ierusalem:  and the towres therof they burnt with fire,
56 and consumed al their honorable thinges, and brought them to naught,
and those that were left of the sword, they led into Babylon.  57 And
they were his seruants vntil the Persians reigned in the fulfilling of
the word of our Lord by the mouth of Ieremie:  (Jer 25:12 / Jer 29:10 /
Dan 9:2)  58 as long as the land quietly kept her sabbathes, al the time
of her desolation she sabbathized in the application of seuentie yeares.
Cyrus king of Persia permitteth the Iewes to returne into their countrie:
10. and deliuereth to them the holie vessels, which Nabuchodonosor had
taken from the temple.  16. Certaine aduersaries writing to king
Artaxerxes, hinder those that would repayre the ruines of Ierusalem.
CYRVS king of the Persians reigning for the accomplishment of the word of
our Lord by the mouth of Ieremie, (2 Par 36:22 / 1 Esd 1:1 / 1 Esd 6:3 /
Jer 25:12 / Jer 29:10 / Dan 9:2) 2 our Lord raysed vp the spirit of Cyrus
king of the Persians, and he proclaymed in al his kingdomes, and that by
writing, 3 saying:  Thus sayth Cyrus king of the Persians:  The Lord of
Israel, the high Lord, hath made me king ouer the whole earth.  4 and
hath signified to me to build him a house in Ierusalem, which is in
Iurie.  5 If there be any of your kinred, his Lord goe vp with him into
Ierusalem.  6 Whosoeuer therefore dwel about the places, let them helpe
them that are in the same place, in gold and siluer, 7 in giftes, with
horses, and beastes, and with other thinges which by vowes are added into
the temple of our Lord, which is in Ierusalem.  8 And the princes of the
tribes, of the villages and of Iurie, of the tribe of Beniamin, & the
Priestes, and the Leuites standing vp, whom our Lord moued to goe vp, and
to build the house of our Lord which is in Ierusalem, and they that were
round about them, 9 did helpe them with al their gold and siluer, and
beastes, and manie whose minde was stirred vp, with many vowes.  10 And
Cyrus the king brought forth the sacred vessel of our Lord, which
Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon transported out of Ierusalem, and
consecrated them to his Idol.  11 And Cyrus the king of Persians bringing
them forth, deliuered them to Mithridatus, who was ouer his treasures.
12 And by him they were deliuered to Salmanasar president of Iurie.
13 And of these this was the number:  Cuppes for libamentes of siluer two
thousand foure hundred, basens of siluer thirtie:  phials of gold
thirtie, also of siluer two thousand foure hundred:  and other vessels a
thousand.  14 and al the vessels of gold and siluer, were fiue thousand
eight hundred sixtie.  15 And they were numbered to Salmanasar together
with them, that came out of the captiuite of Babylon into Ierusalem.
16 But in the times of Artaxerxes king of the Persians, there wrote to
him of them that dwelt in Iurie and Ierusalem, Balsamus, and Mithridatus,
and Sabellius, and Rathimus, Balthemus, Sabellius scribe, and the rest
dweling in Samaria, and other places the epistle folowing to king
Artaxerxes.  (1 Esd 4:7)  17 SIR, thy seruantes Rathimus ouer
occurrentes, and Sabellius the scribe, and the other iudges of thy court
in Caelesyria, and Phenice.  18 And now be it knowen to our Lord the
king, that Iewes came vp from you to vs, coming into Ierusalem a
rebellious, & very naughty citie, do build the fornaces thereof, and set
vp the walles, and rayse the temple.  19 And if this citie, and the
walles shal be finished, they wil not onlie not abyde to pay tributes,
but also wil resist the kinges.  20 And because that is in doing about
the temple, we thought it should doe wel not to neglect this same thing:
21 but to make it knowen to our Lord the king, that if it shal seme good,
o king it may be sought in the bookes of thy fathers, 22 and thou shalt
find in the recordes, thinges writen of these, and thou shalt know that
this citie hath bene rebellious, and trubling kinges, and cities, 23 and
the Iewes rebelles, & making battels in it from time out of mind, for the
which cause this citie was made desolate.  24 Now therfore we doe thee to
vnderstand, Lord king, that if this citie shal be built, and the walles
therof shal be erected, there wil be no comming downe for thee into
Caelesyria, & Phenice.  25 Then wrote the king to Rathimus, the writer of
the occurrentes, and to Balthemus, and to Sabellius the scribe, and to
the rest ioyned with them, and to the dwellers in Syria, and Phenice, as
foloweth:  26 I haue read the epistle that you sent me.  I commanded
therfore search to be made, & it was found that the same citie is from
the beginning rebellious to kinges, 27 and the men rebelles, and making
battels in it, & there were most valient kinges ruling in Ierusalem, and
exacting tributes in Caelesyria, & Phenice.  28 Now therfore I haue geuen
commandment to forbid those men to build the citie, and to stay them that
nothing be done more then is:  29 and that they proceeded not farder,
wherof are euils, so that there may be truble brougt vpon the kinges.
30 Then these things being read which were writen of king Artaxerxes,
Rathimus, and Sabellius the scribe, and they that were apointed with them
ioyning together in hast came to Ierusalem with a troupe of horsemen, and
multitude, & companie:  31 and they begane to forbid the builders, and
they ceased from building of the temple in Ierusalem, til in the second
yeare of the reigne of Darius king of the Persians.
After a solemne supper made to al the court, and chief princes, king
Darius sleeping:  4. three esquires of the bodie keeping watch, proposed
the question:  10. VVhether wine, or a King, or wemen, or the truth doth
excel?  17. The first prayseth wine.
KING Darius made a great supper to al his domestical seruantes, and to al
the magistrates of Media and Persia, 2 and to al that were purple, and to
the praetors, and counsuls, and liuetenantes vnder him from India vnto
AEthiopia, an hundred twentie seuen prouinces.  3 And when they had eaten
and drunken, and returned ful, then Darius went vp into his chamber, and
slept, and awaked.  4 Then those three youngmen kepers of his bodie,
which garded the kings bodie, sayd one to an other; 5 Let euerie one of
vs say a word that may excel:  & whose word soeuer shal appeare wiser
then the others, to him wil king Darius geue great giftes, 6 to be
couered with purple, & to drinke in gold, and to sleepe vpon gold, & a
chariote with a bridle of gold, & a bonet of silke, and a cheyne about
his necke:  7 and he shal sit in the second place next Darius for his
wisdome.  And he shal be called the cosin of Darius.  8 Then euerie one
writing his word signed it, and they put it vnder the pillow of Darius
the king, 9 and they sayd.  When the king shal rise, we wil geue him our
writinges:  and which soeuer of the three the king shal iudge, and the
magistrates of Persia, that his word is the wiser, to him shal the
victorie be geuen as is writen.  10 One wrote:  Wine is strong.  11 An
other wrote, a King is stronger.  12 The third wrote, Wemen are more
strong:  but aboue al thinges truth ouercometh.  13 And when the king was
risen, they tooke their writinges, and gaue him, and he read.  14 And
sending he called al the Magistrates of Persians, and the Medes, and them
that weare purple, and the pretors, and the ouerseers; 15 and they sate
in the councel:  and the writinges were read before them.  16 And he
sayd:  Cal the youngmen, and they shal declare their owne wordes.  And
they were called, and went in.  17 And he sayd to them:  Declare vnto vs
concerning these thinges which are writen.  And the first began, he that
had spoken of the strength of wine, 18 and sayd:  O ye men, how doth wine
preuaile ouer al men that drinke!  it seduceth the minde.  19 And also
the mind of king and orphane it maketh vaine.  Also of the bondman and
the free, of the rich man and the poore, 20 and euerie mind it turneth
into securitie and pleasantnes, and it remembreth not any sorow and
dewtie, 21 and al hartes it maketh honest, and it remembreth not king,
nor magistrate, and it maketh a man speake al thinges by talentes.
22 And when they haue drunke, they remember not frendship, nor
brotherhood:  yea and not long after they take swordes.  23 And when they
are recouered and risen from the wine, they remember not what they haue
done.  24 O ye men, doth not wine excel?  who thinketh to doe so?  And
hauing sayd this, he held his peace.
The second prayseth the excellencie of a king:  13. The third (which is
Zorobabel) commendeth wemen:  33. but preferreth truth aboue al.
41. VVhich is so approued, and he is rewarded.  42. The king moreouer at
his request restoreth the holie vessels of the temple, and granteth
meanes to build the citie of Ierusalem, and the temple.
AND the next began to speake, he that spake of the strength of a king.
2 O ye men doe not the men excel, which obteyne land and sea, and al
thinges that are in them?  3 But a king excelleth aboue al thinges, and
hath dominion ouer them:  and euerie thing whatsoeuer he shal say to
them, they doe.  4 And if he send them to warryers, they goe, and throw
downe mountaines, and the walles, and towers.  5 They kil, and are
killed:  and the kinges word they transgresse not.  For if they shal
ouercome, they bring to the king al thinges whatsoeuer they haue taken
for a praye.  6 In like maner also al others, for so many as are not
souldiars, nor fight, but til the ground:  when they shal reape, againe
they bring tributes to the king.  7 And he being one onlie if he say:
Kil ye, they kil:  say he:  forgeue, the forgeue.  8 say he:  strike:
they strike:  say he, destroy, they destroy:  say he build, they build.
9 say he, cut downe, they cut downe, say he plant, they plant:  10 and al
the people, & potestates here him, and beside this he sitteth downe, and
drinketh, and sleepeth.  11 And others gard him round about, and can not
goe euerie one, and doe their owne workes, but at a word are obedient to
him.  12 O ye men, how doth not a king excel that is so renowmed?  And he
held his peace.  13 The third that spake of wemen and truth, this is
Zorobabel, began to speake.  14 O ye men, not the great king, & many men,
neither is it wine that dothe excel.  Who is it then that hath the
dominion of them?  15 Haue not wemen brought forth the king, and al the
people, that ruleth ouer land & sea:  16 and were they not borne of them,
and did not they bring vp them which planted the vineyardes, whereof wine
is made?  17 And they make the garmentes of al men, & they doe honor to
al men, and men can not be separed from wemen.  18 If they haue gathered
gold and siluer, and euerie beutiful thing, & see a woman comelie and
fayre, 19 leauing al these thinges they fixe their looke vpon her, & with
open mouth beholde her, and allure her more then gold and siluer, and
euerie precious thing.  20 Man forsaketh his father that brought him vp,
and his countrie, and ioyneth himself to a woman.  21 And with a woman he
refresheth his soul:  and neither doth he remember father, nor mother,
nor countrie.  22 And hereby you must know that wemen rule ouer you.  Are
you not sorie?  23 And a man taketh his sword, & goeth into the way to
commit theftes and murders, & to sayle seas & riuers, 24 and seeth a
lyon, and goeth in darkenes:  and when he hath committed theft, and
fraude, and spoyles, he bringeth it to his beloued.  25 And againe, man
loueth his wife more then father or mother.  26 And many haue become
madde for their wiues:  and haue been made bondmen for them:  27 and many
haue perished and bene slayne, and haue sinned for wemen.  28 And now
beleue me, that the king is great in his powre:  because al countries are
afrayd to touch him.  29 Neuertheles I saw Apemes the daughter of Bezaces
the concubine of a meruelous king, sitting by the king at his right hand,
30 and taking of the crowne from his head, and putting it vpon her self,
and with the palme of her left hand she stroke the king.  31 And beside
these thinges he with open mouth beheld her:  and if she smiled he
laugheth, and if she be angrie with him, he flattereth, til he be
reconciled to her fauour.  32 O ye men, why are not wemen stronger?
Great is the earth, and high is the heauen:  who doeth these thinges?
33 And then the king and they that weare purple looked one vpon an other.
And he began to speake of truth.  34 O ye men, are not wemen strong?  The
earth is great and heauen is high:  & the swift course of the sunne
turneth the heauen round into his place in one day.  35 Is not he
magnifical that doth these thinges, and the truth great, and stronger
aboue al thinges?  36 Al the earth calleth vpon the truth, heauen also
blesseth it, and al workes are moued, and tremble at it, and there is not
any thing with it vniust.  37 Wine is vniust, the king is vniust, wemen
are vniust, al the sonnes of men are vniust, and al their workes are
vniust, and in them is not truth, and they shal perish in their
iniquitie:  38 and truth abydeth, and groweth strong for euer, and
liueth, and preuayleth for euer and euer.  39 Neither is there with it
acception of persons, nor differences:  but the thinges that are iust it
doth to al men, to the vniust and malignant, and al men are wel pleased
in the workes thereof.  40 And there is no vniust thing in the iudgement
therof, but strength, and reigne, and power, and maiestie of worldes.
Blessed be the God of truth.  41 And he left speaking.  And al the people
cryed, and sayd:  Great is truth and it preuaileth.  42 Then the king
sayd to him:  Aske, if thou wilt any more, then the thinges that are
writen, and I wil geue it thee, according as thou art found wiser then
thy neighbours, & thou shalt sitte next to me, and shalt be called my
cosin.  43 Then sayd he to the king:  Be midful of thy vow, which thou
hast vowed, to build Ierusalem in the day that thou didst receiue the
kingdom:  44 and to send backe al the vessels that were taken out of
Ierusalem, which Cyrus separated, when he sacked Babylon, and would haue
sent them backe thither.  45 And thou hast vowed to build the temple,
which the Idumeians burnt, when Iurie was destroyed of the Chaldees.
46 And now this is that which I aske Lord, & which I desire, this is the
maiestie which I desire of thee, that thou performe the vowe which thou
hast vowed to the king of heauen by thy mouth.  47 Then Darius the king
rising vp, kissed him:  and wrote letters to al the officers, and
ouerseers, and them that weare purple, that they should conduct him, and
them that were with him, al going vp to build Ierusalem.  48 And to al
the ouerseers that were in Syria, and Phoenice, and Libanus he wrote
letters, that they should draw Ceder trees from Libanus into Ierusalem,
to build the citie with them.  49 And he wrote to al the Iewes which went
vp from the kingdome into Iurie for libertie, euerie mightie man, &
magistrate, & ouerseer not to come vpon them to their gates, 50 and al
the countrie which they had obtayned to be free vnto them, & that the
Idumeians leaue the castels which they possesse of the Iewes, 51 and to
the building of the temple to geue euerie yeare twentie talentes vntil it
were throughly built:  52 & vpon the altars to burne holocausts dayly, as
they haue commandment:  to offer other ten talentes euery yeare, 53 & to
al that go forth from Babylon to build the citie, that there should be
libertie as wel to them as to their children, and to al the priestes that
goe before.  54 And he wrote a quantitie also, and commanded the sacred
stole to be geuen, wherein they should serue; 55 and to the Leuites he
wrote to geue preceptes, vntil the day wherein the house shal be
finished, and Ierusalem builded.  56 And to al that kepe the citie, he
wrote portions and wages to be geuen to them.  57 And he sent away al the
vessels whatsoeuer Cyrus had separated from Babylon, and al thinges
whatsoeuer Cyrus sayd, he also commanded to be donne, and to be sent to
Ierusalem.  58 And when that yong man was gone forth, lyfting vp his face
toward Ierusalem, he blessed the king of heauen, 59 & sayd:  Of thee is
victorie, and of thee is wisdome, and glorie.  And I am thy seruant.
60 Blessed art thou which hast geuen me wisedom, and I wil confesse to
thee Lord God of our fathers.  61 And he toke the letters, and went into
Babylon.  And he came, and told al his brethren that were in Babylon:
62 and they blessed the God of their fathers, because he gaue them
remission and refreshing, 63 that they should goe vp and build Ierusalem,
and the temple wherein his name was renowmed, and they reioyced with
musike and ioy seuen dayes.
Those that returned from captiuitie of Bablyon into Ierusalem, and Iurie,
are recited.  47. They restore Gods seruice:  66. but are hindered from
AFTER these thinges there were chosen, to goe vp the princes of townes by
their houses, and tribes, and their wiues, and their sonnes and
daughters, and their men seruantes and wemen seruantes, and their cattel.
(1 Esd 2:1)  2 And Darius the king sent together with them a thousand
horsmen, til they conducted them to Ierusalem with peace, & with musicke
& with tymbrels, and shaulmes:  3 and al the brethren were playing, and
he made them goe vp together with them.  4 And these are the names of the
men that went vp by their townes according to tribes, and according to
the portion of their principalitie.  5 Priestes:  The children of
Phinees, the sonne of Aaron, Iesus the sonne of Iosedec, Ioacim the sonne
of Zorobabel, the sonne of Salatheil of the house of Dauid, of the
progenie of Phares, of the tribe of Iuda.  6 Who spake vnder Darius king
of the Persians the meruelous wordes in the second yeare of his reigne
the first moneth Nisan.  7 And they are these, that of Iurie came vp from
the captiuitie of the transmigration, whom Nabuchodonosor the king of
Babylon transported into Babylon, and returned into Ierusalem.
(1 Esd 2:2 / 2 Esd 7:6)  8 And euerie one sought a part of Iurie
according to his owne citie, they that came with Zorobabel, and Iesus,
Nehemias, Areores, Elimeo, Emmanio, Mardocheo, Beelsuro, Mechpsatochor,
Olioro, Emonia one of their princes.  9 And the number of them of the
same nation, of their rulers the children of Phares, two thousand an
hundred seuentie two:  10 The children of Ares, three thousand an hundred
fiftie seuen:  11 The children of Phoemo, an hundred fourtie two:  in the
children of Iesus and Ioabes, a thousand three hundred two:  12 the
children of Demu, two thousand foure hundred seuentie:  the children of
Choraba, two hundred fiue:  the children of Banica, an hundred sixtie
eight, 13 the children of Bebech, foure hundred three:  the children of
Archad, foure hundred twentie seuen:  14 the children of Cham, thirtie
seuen:  the children of Zoroar, two thousand sixtie seuen:  the children
of Adin, foure hundred sixtie one:  15 the children of Aderectes, an
hundred eight:  the children of Ciaso and Zelas an hundred seuen:  the
children of Azoroc, foure hundred thirtie nine:  16 the children of
Iedarbone, an hundred thirtie two:  the children of Ananias, an hundred
thirtie:  the children of Asoni, ninetie:  17 the children of Marsar,
foure hundred twentie two:  the children of Zabarus, nintie fiue:  the
children of Sepolemon, an hundred twentie three:  18 the children of
Nepopas, fiftie fiue:  the children of Hechanatus, an hundred fiftie
eight:  the children of Cebethamus, an hundred thirite two:  19 the
children of Crearpatros, which are of Enocadie and Modia, foure hundred
twentie three:  they of Gramas and Babea, an hundred twentie one.
20 They of Besselon, and Ceagge, sixtie fiue:  they of Bastraro, an
hundred twentie two:  21 they of Bechenobes, fiftie fiue:  the children
of Liptis, an hundred fiftie fiue:  the children of Labonni, three
hundred fiftie seuen:  22 the children of Sichem, three hundred seuentie:
the children of Suadon, & Cliomus, three hundred seuentie eight:  23 the
children of Ericus, two thousand an hundred fourtie fiue:  the children
of Anaas, three hundred seuentie.  The priestes:  24 the children of
Ieddus, the sonne of Euther, the sonne of Eliasib, three hundred seuenty
two:  the children of Emerus, two hundred fiftie two:  25 the children of
Phasurius, three hundred fiftie seuen the children of Caree, two hundred
twentie seuen.  26 The Leuites:  The children of Iesus in Caduhel, and
Bamis, and Serebias, and Edias, seuentie foure, the whole number from the
twelfth yeare, thiritie thousand foure hundred sixtie two.  27 The
sonnes, and daughters, and wiues, the whole number, fourtie thousand two
hundred fourtie two.  28 The children of the Priestes, that sang in the
temple:  the children of Asaph, an hundred twentie eight.  29 And the
porters:  the children of Esmeni, the children of Azer, the children of
Amon, the children of Accuba, of Topa, the children of Tobi, al an
hundred thirtie nine.  30 Priestes that serued in the temple:  the
children of Sel, the children of Gaspha, the children of Tobloch, the
children of Caria, the children of Su, the children of Hellu, the
children of Lobana, the children of Armacha, the children of Accub, the
children of Vtha, the children of Cetha, the children of Aggab, the
children of Obai, the children of Anani, the children of Canna, the
children of Geddu, 31 the children or An, the children of Radin, the
children of Desanon, the children of Nachoba, the children of Caseba, the
children of Gaze, the children of Ozui, the children of Sinone, the
children of Attre, the children of Hasten, the children of Asiana, the
children of Manei, the children of Nasissim, the children of Acusu, the
children of Agista, the children of Azui, the children of Fauon, the
children of Phasalon, 32 the children of Meedda, the children of Phusa,
the children of Caree, the children of Burcus, the children of Saree, the
children of Coesi, the children of Nasith, the children of Agisti, the
children of Pedon.  33 Salomon his children, the children of Asophot, the
children of Phasida, the children of Celi, the children of Dedon, the
children of Gaddehel, the children of Sephegi, 34 the children of Aggia,
the children of Sachareth, the children of Sabathen, the children of
Caroneth, the children of Malsith, the children of Ama, the children of
Sasus, the children of Addus, the children of Suba, the children of Eura,
the children of Rahotis, the children of Phasphat, the children of
Malmon.  35 Al that serued the sanctuarie, and the seruantes of Salomon,
foure hundred eightie two.  36 These are the children that came vp from
Thelmela, Thelharsa:  the princes of them, Carmellam, and Careth:  37 and
they could not declare their cities, and their progenies, how they are of
Israel.  The children of Dalari, the children of Tubal, the children of
Nechodaici, 38 of the Priestes, that did the function of priesthood:  and
there were not found the children of Obia, the children of Achisos, the
children of Addin, who tooke a wife of the daughters of Pargeleu:  39 and
they were called by his name, and the writing of the kinred of these was
sought in the register, and it was not found, and they were forbid to doe
the function of priesthood.  40 And Nehemias and Astharus sayd to them:
Let not the holie thinges be participated, til there arise a hiegh priest
lerned for declaration and truth.  41 And al Israel was beside men
seruantes, and wemen seruantes, fourtie two thousand three hundred
fourtie.  42 Their men seruantes and wemen seruantes, seuen thousand
three hundred thirtie seuen.  Singing men and singing wemen, two hundred
three score fiue.  43 Camels, foure hundred thiritie fiue.  Horses, seuen
thousand thirtie six.  Mules, two hundred thousand fourtie fiue.  Beastes
vnder yoke, fiue thousand twentie fiue.  44 And of the rulers themselues
by their villages, when they came into the temple of God, which was in
Ierusalem, to renew and raise vp the temple in his place, according to
their power:  45 and to be geuen into the temple to the sacred treasure
of the workes, of gold twelue thousand mnas, and fiue thousand mnas of
siluer, and stoles for Priestes an hundred.  46 And the Priestes and
Leuites, and they that came out of the people, dwelt in Ierusalem, and in
the countrie, and the sacred singingmen, and porters, and al Israel in
their countries.  47 And the seuenth moneth being at hand, and when the
children of Israel were euerie man in his owne affayres, they came
together with one minde into the court, that was before the east gate.
(1 Esd 3:1)  48 And Iesus the sonne of Iosedec, and his brethren the
priestes:  Zorobabel the sonne of Salathiel, and his brethren standing
vp, prepared an altar, 49 that they might offer vpon it holocaustes,
according to the thinges that are writen in the booke of Moyses the man
of God.  50 And there assembled there of other nations of the land, and
al the nations of the land erected the altar in his place, and they
offered hostes, and morning holocaustes to our Lord.  51 And they
celebrated the feast of Tabernacles, and the solemne day, as it is
commanded in the lawe:  and sacrifices dayly, as it behoued:  52 and
after these the appointed oblations, and the hostes of the sabbathes, and
of the newmoones, and of al the solemne sanctified dayes.  53 And as
manie as vowed to our Lord from the new moone of the seuenth moneth,
began to offer the hostes to God, and the temple of our Lord was not yet
built.  54 And they gaue monie to the masones and workemen, and drinke
and victuals with ioy.  55 And they gaue cartes to the Sidonians, and
Tyrianes, that with them they should carie ceder beames from Lybanus, and
should make boates in the hauen Ioppe, according to the decre that was
writen for them by Cyrus king of the Persians.  56 And in the second
yeare coming into the temple of God in Ierusalem, in the second moneth
began Zorobel the sonne of Salathiel, and Iosue the sonne of Iosedec, and
their bretheren, and the Priestes and Leuites, and al that were come from
the captiuitie into Ierusalem.  57 and they founded the temple of God in
the newmoone of the second moneth of the second yeare, after that they
came into Iurie and Ierusalem.  58 And they appoynted the Leuites from
twentie yeares, ouer the workes of our Lord:  and Iesus stood and his
sonne, and the bretheren, al Leuites ioyning together, & executors of the
lawe, doing the workes in the house of our Lord.  59 And al the Priestes
stood, hauing stoles with trumpettes:  60 and Leuites the children of
Asaph, hauing cymbals together praysing our Lord, and blessing him
according to Dauid king of Israel.  61 And they song a song to our Lord,
because his sweetenes, and honour is for euer vpon Israel.  62 And al the
people sounded with trumpet, and cried out with a loud voice, praysing
our Lord in the raysing vp of the house of our Lord.  63 And there came
of the Priestes and Leuites, and presidentes by their villages the more
ancientes, which had sene the old house:  64 and to the building of this
with crie and great lamentation, and manie with trumpettes and great ioy:
65 in so much that the people heard not the trumpettes for the
lamentatinon of the people.  For the multitude was sounding with
trumpettes magnifically, so that it was heard far of.  66 And the enimes
of the tribe of Iuda, and Beniamin heard it, and they came to knowe what
the voyce of the trumpettes was:  67 And they knew that they which were
of the captiuitie doe build a temple to our Lord the God of Israel.
68 And coming to Zorobabel & Iesus, the ouerseers of the villages, they
sayd to them:  We will build together with you:  (1 Esd 4:2)  69 For we
haue in like maner heard your Lord, & we walke like from the dayes of
Asbazareth king of the Assyrians, who transported vs hither.  70 And
Zorobabel, and Iesus, & the princes of the villages of Israel, sayd to
them:  71 It is not for vs and you to build the house of our God.  For we
alone wil build to our Lord of Israel according as Cyrus the king of the
Persians hath commanded.  72 And the nations of the land lying vpon them
that are in Iurie, and lifting vp the worke of the building, and bringing
ambushmentes, and peoples, prohibited them to build.  73 and practising
assaultes hindred them, that the building might not be finished al the
time of the life of king Cyrus, and they differred the building for two
yeares vntil the reigne of Darius.
The Iewes by assistance of king Darius build vp the Temple in Ierusalem.
AND in the second yeare of the reigne of Darius prophecied Aggeus, and
Zacharias the sonne of Addo the prophet to Iurie and Ierusalem in the
name of God of Israel vpon them.  (1 Esd 5:1)  2 Then Zorobabel the sonne
of Salathiel standing vp, and Iesus the sonne of Iosedec begane to build
the house of our Lord, which is in Ierusalem.  3 When the prophetes of
our Lord were present with them, and did helpe them.  At the same time
came Sisennes to them, the deputie of Syria, and of Phenice, and
Satrabuzanes, and his felowes:  4 and they sayd to them:  By whose
commandment, build ye this house, and this roofe, and perfite al other
thinges?  And who are the workmen that build these thinges?  5 And the
ancientes of the Iewes, which were left of the captiuitie by our Lord,
had fauoure when the visitation was made vpon them.  6 And they were not
hindered from building, til it was signified to Darius of al these
thinges, and answer was receiued.  7 A copie of the letter, which they
sent to Darius.  SISENNES deputie of Syria and Phenice, and Satrabuzanes,
and his felowes in Syria and Phenice presidents, to king Darius
greetings:  8 Be al thinges knowen to our Lord the king, that when we
came into the countrie of Iurie, and had entered into Ierusalem, we found
them building the great house of God.  9 And the temple of polished
stones, and of great and precious matter in the walles.  10 And the
workes to be a doing earnestly, and to succede, and prosper in their
handes, and in al glorie to be perfited most diligently.  11 Then we
asked the ancients saying, by whose permission build ye this house, &
found these workes?  12 And therfore we asked them, that we might doe
thee to know the men & the ouerseers, and we required of them a rolle of
the names of the ouerseers.  13 But they answered vs saying:  We are the
seruantes of the Lord, which made heauen and earth.  14 And this house
was built these manie yeares past by a king of Israel, that was great and
most valiant, and was finished.  15 And because our fathers were
prouoking to wrath, and sinned agaynst God of Israel, he deliuered them
into the handes of Nabuchodonosor the king of Babylon, king of the
Chaldees.  16 And throwing downe this house they burnt it, and they led
the people captiue into Babylon.  17 In the first yeare when Cyrus
reigned the king of Babylon, Cyrus the king wrote to build this house.
18 And these sacred vessels of gold and siluer which Nabuchodonosor had
taken out of the house which is in Ierusalem, and had consecrated them in
his owne temple, Cyrus brought them forth agayne out of the temple which
was in Babylon, and they were deliuered to Zorobabel, & to Salmanasar the
deputie.  19 And it was commanded them that they should offer these
vessels, & lay them vp in the temple, which was in Ierusalem, and build
the temple of God itself in his place.  20 Then did Salmanasar lay the
fundations of the house of our Lord, which is in Ierusalem:  and from
that time vntil now it is a building, and is not accomplished.  21 Now
therfore if thou thincke it good o king, let it be sought in the kings
liberaries of Cyrus the king, which are in Babylon:  22 and if it shal be
found, that the building of the house of the Lord, which is in Ierusalem,
begane by the counsel of Cyrus the king, and it be thought good of our
Lord the king, let him write to vs of these thinges.  23 Then Darius the
king commanded search to be made in the libraries:  and there was found
in Ecbatana a towne that is in the countrie of Media, one place wherin
were writen these wordes:  (1 Esd 6:1)  24 IN THE FIRST YEARE of the
reigne of Cyrus, king Cyrus commanded to build the house of the Lord
which is in Ierusalem, where they did burne incense with dayly fire,
25 the height wherof shal be of ten cubits, & the bredth three score
cubites, foure square with three stones polished, and with a loft galerie
of wood of the same countrie, & one new galerie, and the expenses to be
geuen out of the house of Cyrus the king.  26 And the sacred vesseles of
the house of the Lord, as wel of gold as of siluer, which Nabuchodonosor
tooke from the house of our Lord, which is in Ierusalem where they were
layed, that they be put there:  27 And he commanded Sisennes the deputie
of Syria & Phoenice, and Satrabuzanes, and his felowes & them that were
ordayned presidentes in Syria & Phoenice, that they should refraine
themselues from that place.  28 And I also haue geuen commandment to
build it wholly:  and haue prouided, that they helpe them, which are of
the captiuitie of the Iewes, til the temple of the house of the Lord be
accomplished.  29 And from the vexation of the tributes of Coelesyria &
Phoenice, a quantitie to be geuen diligently to these men for the
sacrifice of the Lord, to Zorobabel the gouernour, for oxen, and rammes,
and lambes.  30 And in like maner corne also, and salt, and wine, and
oyle continually yeare by yeare, according as the priestes which are in
Ierusalem, haue prescribed to be spent dayly:  31 that libamentes may be
offered to the most high God for the king & his children, & that they may
pray for their life.  32 And that it be denounced, that whosoeuer shal
transgresse anie thing of these which are writen, or shal despise it, a
beame be taken of theyr owne, & they be hanged, & their goodes be
confiscate to the king.  33 Therfore the Lord also, whose name is
inuocated there, destroy euery king & nation, that shal extend their hand
to hinder or to handle il the house of the Lord which is in Ierusalem.
34 I Darius the king haue decreed that it be most diligently done
according to these thinges.
The house of God is finished, 7. and dedicated, 10. the feast of Pasch is
also celebrated seuen dayes with Azimes.
THEN Sisennes the deputie of Coelesyria, and Phaenice, and Satrabuzames,
and their felowes, obeying those thinges which were decreed of Darius the
king, (1 Esd 6:13) 2 applied the sacred workes most diligently, working
together with the ancientes of the Iewes, the princes of Syria.  3 And
the sacred workes prospered, Aggeus & Zacharias the prophetes
prophecying.  4 And they accomplished al thinges by the precept of our
Lord the God of Israel, and by the counsel of Cyrus, & Darius, and
Artaxerxes the king of the Persians.  5 And our house was a finishing
vntil the three and twentith day of the moneth of Adar, the sixth yeare
of Darius the king.  6 And the children of Israel, and the Priestes and
Leuites, and the rest that were of the captiuitie, which were added did
according to those thinges that are written in the booke of Moyses.
7 And they offered for the dedication of the temple of our Lord, oxen an
hundred, rammes two hundred, lambes foure hundred.  8 And kiddes for the
sinnes of al Israel, twelue, according to the number of the tribes of
Israel.  9 And the Priestes and Leuites stood clothed with stoles by
tribes, ouer al the workes of our Lord the God of Israel, according to
the booke of Moyses, and the porters at euerie gate.  10 And the children
of Israel, wih them that were of the captiuitie celebrated the phase of
the fourtenth moone of the first moneth, when the Priestes and Leuites
were sanctified.  11 Al the children of the captiuitie were not
sanctified together, because al the Leuites were sanctified together.
12 And al the children of the captuitie immolated the phase, both for
their brethren the Priestes, and for them selues.  13 And the children of
Israel did eate, they that were of the captiuitie al that remayned apart
from al the abominations of the nations of the land seeking our Lord.
14 And they celebrated the festiual day of Azymes seuen dayes feasting in
the sight of our Lord.  15 Because he turned the counsel of the king of
the Assirians toward them, to strengthen their handes to the workes of
our Lord the God of Israel.
Esdras going from Babylon to Ierusalem, 9. carieth king Artaxerxes
fauourable letters, 14. with licence to take gold, siluer, and al thinges
necessarie at their pleasure.  31. The chief men that goe with him are
recited.  51. He voweth a fast praying for good success in their iorney.
56. weigheth the gold and siluer, which he deliuereth to the Priestes,
and Leuites.  69. And seuerely admonisheth the people to repentance, for
their mariages made with infideles.
AND after him when Artaxerxes king of the Persians reigned, came Esdras
the sonne of Azarias, the sonne of Helcias the sonne of Salome,
(1 Esd 7:1) 2 the sonne of Sadoc, the sonne of Achitob, the sonne of
Ameri, the sonne of Azahel, the sonne of Bocci, the sonne of Abisue, the
sonne of Phinees the sonne of Eleazar, the sonne of Aaron the first
priest.  3 This Esdras came vp from Babylon being scribe & wise in the
law of Moyses, which was geuen of our Lord the God of Israel to teach and
to doe.  4 And the king gaue him glorie, because he had found grace in al
dignitie and desire in his sight.  5 And there went vp with him of the
children of Israel, and the Priestes, and the Leuites, and the sacred
singers of the temple, and the porters, and the seuantes of the temple
into Ierusalem.  6 In the seuenth yeare when Artaxerxes reigned in the
fifth moneth, this is the seuenth yeare of his reigne, going forth of
Babylon in the newmoone of the fifth moneth, 7 they came to Ierusalem
according to his commandment, according to the prosperitie of their
iourney, which their Lord gaue them.  8 For in these Esdras had great
knowlege, that he would not pretermitte anie of those thinges, which were
according to the law, and the preceptes of our Lord, and in teaching al
Israel al iusticie and iudgement.  9 And they that wrote the writinges of
Araxerxes the king, coming deliuered the writing which was granted of
Artaxerxes the king to Esdras the Priest, & the reader of the law of our
Lord, the copie wherof here foloweth.  10 KING Artaxerxes to Esdras the
Priest, and reader of the law of the Lord, greeting.  11 I of curtesie
esteming it among benifites, haue commanded them that of their owne
accord are desirous of the nation of the Iewes, and of the Priestes and
Leuites, which are in my kingdom, to goe with thee into Ierusalem.  12 If
anie therfore desire to goe with thee, let them come together, and set
forward as it hath pleased me, and my seuen freindes my counselers:
13 that they may visite those thinges which are done touching Iurie and
Ierusalem, obseruing as thou hast in the law of the Lord.  14 And let
them carie the giftes to the Lord the God of Israel, which I haue vowed
and my freindes to Ierusalem, and al the gold and siluer, that shal be
found in the countrie of Babylon to the Lord in Ierusalem, with that,
15 which is geuen for the nation it self vnto the temple of their Lord
which is in Ierusalem:  that this gold and siluer be gathered for oxen,
and rammes, and lambes, and kiddes, and for the thinges that are agreable
to these, 16 that they may offer hostes to the Lord vpon the altar of
their Lord, which is in Ierusalem.  17 And al thinges whatsoeuer thou
with thy brethren wilt doe with gold and siluer, doe it at thy pleasure
according to the precept of the Lord thy God.  18 And the sacred vessels,
which are geuen thee to the workes of the house of the Lord thy God,
which is in Ierusalem.  19 And other thinges whatsoeuer shal helpe thee
to the workes of the temple of thy God, thou shalt geue it out of the
kings treasure.  20 When thou with thy brethren wilt doe ought with gold
and siluer, doe according to the wil of the Lord.  21 And I king
Artaxerxes haue geuen commandment to the keepers of the treasure of Syria
and Phaenice, that what thinges soeuer Esdras the Priest and reader of
the law of the Lord, shal write for, they geue him vnto an hundred
talentes of siluer, likewise also of gold.  22 And vnto an hundred
measures of corne, & an hundred vessels of wine, and other thinges
whatsoeuer abound without taxing.  23 Let al thinges be done to the most
high God according to the law of God, lest perhaps there arise wrath in
the reigne of the king, and of his sonne, and his sonnes.  24 And to you
it is sayd, that vpon al the Priestes, and Leuites, and sacred singers,
and seruantes of the temple, & scribes of this temple 25 no tribute, nor
any other taxe be sette, and that no man haue auctoritie to obiect any
thing to them.  26 But thou Esdras according to the wisedom of God
appoynt iudges, and arbitrers in al Syria and Phaenice:  and teach al
them that know no the law of thy God:  27 that whosoeuer shal transgresse
the law, they be diligently punished either with death, or with torment,
or els with a forfeite of money, or with banishment.  28 And Esdras the
scribe sayd:  Blessed be the God of our fathers, which hath geuen this
wil into the kings hart, to glorifie his house, which is in Ierusalem.
29 And hath honoured me in the sight of the king, and of his counselers,
and freindes, and them that weare purple.  30 And I was made constant in
minde according to the ayde of our Lord my God, and gathered together of
Israel men, that should goe vp together with me.  31 And these are the
princes according to their kindredes, and seueral principalities of them
that came vp from Babylon the kingdom of Artaxerxes.  (1 Esd 8:1)  32 Of
the children of Phares, Gerfomus:  and of the children of Siemarith,
Amenus:  of the children of Dauid, Acchus the sonne of Scecilia:  33 Of
the children of Phares, Zacharias, and with him returned an hundred
fiftie men.  34 Of the children of leader Moabilion, Zaraei, and with him
two hundred fiftie men:  35 Of the children of Zachues, Iechonias of
Zechoel, and with him two hundred fiftie men:  36 of the children of
Sala, Maasias of Gotholia, & with him seuentie men:  37 of the children
of Saphatia, Zarias of Michel, and with him eightie men:  38 of the
children of Iob, Abdias of Iehel, and with him two hundred twelue men:
39 of the children of Bania, Salimoth, the sonne of Iosaphia, and with
him an hundred sixtie men:  40 of the children of Beer, Zacharias Bebei,
and with him two hundred eight men:  41 of the children of Ezead, Ioannes
of Eccetan, and with him an hundred ten men:  42 of the children of
Adonicam, which were last, and these are their names, Eliphalam the sonne
of Gebel, and Semeias, and with him seuentie men.  43 And I gathered them
together to the riuer that is called Thia, and we camped there three
dayes, and vewed them againe.  44 And of the children of the Priestes and
Leuites I found not there.  45 And I sent to Eleazarus, and Eccelon, and
Masman, and Maloban, and Enaathan, and Samea, and Ioribum, Nathan,
Enuaugam, Zacharias, and Mosolam the leaders them selues, and that were
skilful.  46 And I sayd to them that they should come to Loddeus, who was
at the place of the treasurie.  47 And I commanded them to say to
Loddeus, and his brethren, and to them that were in the treasurie, that
they should send vs them that might doe the function of priesthood in the
house of the Lord our God.  48 And they brought vnto vs according to the
mightie hand of the Lord our God cunning men:  of the children of Moholi,
the sonne of Leui, the sonne of Israel, Sebebia, & his sonnes and
brethren, which were eightene:  49 Asbia, and Amin of the sonnes of the
children of Chananeus, and their children twentie men.  50 And of them
that serued the temple, whom Dauid gaue, and the princes themselues to
the ministerie of the Leuites of them that serued the temple, two hundred
twentie.  Al their names were signified in writings.  51 And I vowed
there a fast to the yong men in the sight of God, that I might aske of
him a good iourney for vs, and them that were with vs, and for the
children, and the cattel because of ambushementes.  52 For I was ashamed
to aske of the king footemen and horsemen in my companie, to guard vs,
against our aduersaries.  53 For we sayd to the king that the power of
our Lord wil be with them that seeke him with al affection.  54 And
agayne we besought the Lord our God according to these thinges:  whom
also we had propicious, and we obteyned of our God.  55 And I separated
of the rulers of the people, and of the Priestes of the temple, twelue
men, and Sedebia, and Asanna, and with them of their brethren ten men.
56 And I weyed to them the gold and siluer, and the vessels of the house
of our God perteyning to the Priestes, which the king had geuen, and his
counselers, and the princes, and al Israel.  57 And when I had weyed it,
I deliuered of siluer an hundred fiftie talentes, and siluer vessels of
an hundred talentes, and of gold an hundred talentes.  58 And of vessels
of gold seuen score and twelue brasen vessels good of shyning brasse,
resembling the forme of gold.  59 And I sayd to them:  You are also
sanctified to our Lord, and the vessels be holie, and the gold and siluer
is vowed to our Lord the God of our fathers.  60 Watch and keepe, til you
deliuer them to some of the rulers of the people, and to the Priestes,
and Leuites, and to the princes of the cities of Israel in Ierusalem, in
the treasurie of the house of our God.  61 And those Priestes and Leuites
that receiued the gold and siluer and vessels, brought it to Ierusalem
into the temple of our Lord.  62 And we went forward from the riuer Thia,
the twelfth day of the first moneth, til we entred into Ierusalem.
63 And when the third day was come, in the fourth day the gold being
weyed, and the siluer, was deliuered in the house of the Lord our God, to
Marimoth Priest the sonne of Iori.  64 And with him was Eleazar the sonne
of Phinees:  and with them were Iosadus the sonne of Iesus, and Medias,
and Banni the sonne of a Leuite, by number and weight al thinges.  65 And
the weight of them was writen the same houre.  66 And they that came out
of the captiuitie, offered sacrifice to our Lord the God of Israel, oxen
twelue, for al Israel, rammes eightie six, 67 lambes seuentie two, bucke
goates for sinne twelue, and for health twelue kyne, al for the sacrifice
of our Lord.  68 And they read againe the preceptes of the king to the
kinges officers, and to the deputies of Coelesyria, and Phoenice:  and
they honored the nation, and the temple of our Lord.  69 And these
thinges being finished, the rulers came to me, saying:  The stocke of
Isreal, and the princes, and the Priestes, and the Leuites, (1 Esd 9:1)
70 and the strange people, and nations of the land haue not separated
their vncleannes from the Chananeites, and Hetheites, and Pherezeites,
and Iebuseites, and Moobites, & AEgyptians, and Idumeians.  71 For they
are ioyned to their daughters both themselues, and their sonnes:  and the
holie sede is mingled with the strange nations of the earth, and the
rulers and magistrates were partakers of that iniquitie from the
beginning of the reigne it self.  72 And forthwith as I heard these
thinges, I rent my garmentes and sacred tunike:  and tearing the heares
of my head, and my beard, I sate sorowful and heauie.  73 And there
assembled to me mourning vpon this iniquitie, as manie as were then moued
by the word of our Lord the God of Israel, and I sate sad vntil the
euening sacrifice.  74 And I rising vp from fasting, hauing my garmentes
rent and the sacred tunike, kneeling, and stretching forth my handes to
our Lord, 75 I sayd:  Lord I am confounded, and ashamed before thy face,
76 for our sinnes are multiplied ouer our heades, and our iniquities are
exalted euen to heauen.  77 Because from the times of our fathers we are
in great sinne vnto this day.  78 And for the sinnes of vs, and of our
fathers we haue bene deliuered with our brethren, and with our Priestes
to the kinges of the earth, into sword and captiuitie, and spoile with
confusion vnto this present day.  79 And now what a great thing is this
that mercie hath happened to vs from thee o Lord God, & leaue thou vnto
vs a roote, and a name in the place of thy sanctification, 80 to discouer
our light in the house of the Lord our God, to geue vs meate in al the
time of our bondage.  81 And when we serued, we were not forsaken of the
Lord our God:  but he sette vs in fauour, appointing the kinges of the
Persians to geue us meate, 82 and to glorifie the temple of the Lord our
God, and to build the desolations of Sion, to geue vs stabilitie in
Iurie, and Ierusalem.  83 And now what say we Lord, hauing these thinges?
For we haue transgressed thy preceptes, which thou gauest into the handes
of thy seruantes the prophetes, 84 saying:  That the land into which ye
entred to possesse the inheritance therof, is a land polluted with the
coinquinations of the strangers of the land, and their vncleanes hath
filled it wholy with their filthines.  85 And now your daughters you shal
not match with their sonnes, and their daughters you shal not take for
your sonnes.  86 And you shal not seeke to haue peace with them for euer,
that growing strong you may eate the best things of the land, and may
distribute the inheritance to your children for euer.  87 And the thinges
that happen to vs, al are done for our nauhtie workes, and our great
sinnes.  88 And thou gauest vs such a roote, and we are returned againe
to transgresse thy ordinances, that we would be mingled with the
vncleannes of the nations of this land.  89 Wilt not thou be wrath with
vs to destroy vs, til there be no roote left nor our name?  90 Lord God
of Israel thou art true.  For there is a roote left vntil this present
day.  91 Behold, now we are in thy sight in our iniquities.  For it is
not to stand any longer before thee in these matters.  92 And when Esdras
with adoration confessed weeping, lying flat on the ground before the
temple, there were gathered before him out of Ierusalem a verie great
multitude, men and wemen, and yong men and yong wemen.  For there was
great weeping in the multitude it self.  (1 Esd 10:1)  93 And when he had
cried, Iechonias of Ieheli of the children of Israel, sayd to Esdras:  We
haue sinned against our Lord, for that we haue taken vnto vs in mariage
strange wemen of the nations of the land.  94 And now thou art ouer al
Israel, in these therfore let there be an othe from our Lord to expel al
our wiues that are of strangers with their children.  95 As it was
decreed to thee of the ancesters according to the law of our Lord, rising
vp declare it.  96 For to thee the busines perteineth, and we are with
thee:  doe manfully.  97 And Esdras rysing vp adiured the princes of the
Priestes and Leuites, and al Israel to doe according to these thinges and
Esdras fasting for the sinnes of the people, commandeth that they
separate al strange wemen from them.  18. The Priestes and Leuites, which
had offended herein, are recited.  38 He readeth the law before the
people:  48 certaine doe expound to the multitudes in seueral places.
52 And so they are dismissed with ioy.
AND Esdras rysing vp from before the court of the temple, went into the
chamber of Ionathas the sonne of Nasabi.  (1 Esd 10:6)  2 And lodging
there he tasted no bread, nor dranke water for the iniquitie of the
multitude.  3 And there was proclamation made in al Iurie, & in Ierusalem
to al that were of the captiuitie gathered in Ierusalem, 4 that whosoeuer
shal not appeare with in two or three dayes, according to the iudgement
of the ancients sitting vpon it, their goods should be taken away, and
himselfe should be iudged an alien from the multitude of the captiuitie.
5 And al were gathered that were of the tribe of Iuda, and of Beniamin
within three dayes in Ierusalem:  this is the ninth moneth, the twentith
day of the moneth.  6 And al the multitude sate in the court of the
temple trembling, for the present winter.  7 And Esdras rysing vp sayd to
them:  You haue done vnlawfully taking to you in mariage strang wiues,
that you might adde to the sinnes of Israel.  8 And now geue confession,
& magnificence to our Lord the God of our fathers:  9 and accomplish his
wil, and depart from the nations of the land, and from your wiues the
strangers.  10 And al the multitude cried, and they sayd with a lowde
voice:  As thou hast sayd, we wil doe.  11 But because the multitude is
great, and winter time, and we can not stand in the ayre without succour:
and this is a worke for vs not of one day, nor of two, for we haue sinned
much in these thinges:  12 Let the rulers of the multitude stand, and
that dwel with vs, and as manie as haue with them forreine wiues, 13 and
at a time appointed let the priestes out of euerie place, and the iudges
assist, vntil they appeaze the wrath of our Lord concerning this busines.
14 And Ionathas the sonne of Ezeli, and Ozias of Thecam tooke vpon them
according to these wordes:  and Bosoramus, and Leuis, and Sabbathaeus,
wrought together with them.  15 And al that were of the captiuitie stood
according to al these thinges.  16 And Esdras the priest chose vnto him
men the great princes of their fathers according to their names:  & they
sate together in the newmoone of the tenth moneth to examine this
busines.  17 And they determined of the men that had outlandish wiues,
vntil the newmoone of the first moneth.  18 And there were found of the
priestes entermingled that had outlandish wiues.  19 Of the sonnes of
Iesus the sonne of Iosedec, and his brethren:  Maseas, and Eleazarus, and
Ioribus, and Ioadeus, 20 and they put to their handes to expel their
wiues:  and to offer a ramme to obtayne pardon for their ignorance.
21 And the sonnes of Semmeri:  Maseas and Esses, Ieelech, and Azarias.
22 And of the children of Fofere:  Limosias, Hismaenis, and Nathanee,
Iussio, Reddus, and Thalsas.  23 And of the Leuites:  Iorabdus, and
Semeis, and Colnis, and Calitas, and Facteas, and Coluas, and Eliomas,
24 and of the sacred singing men, Eliasib, Zaccarus.  25 And of the
porters, Salumus, and Tolbanes.  26 And of Israel:  of the sonnes of
Foro, Ozi, and Remias, and Geddias, & Melchias, and Michelus, Eleazarus,
and Iammebias, and Bannas.  27 And of the sonnes of Iolaman:  Chamas, and
Zacharias, and Iezuelus, and Ioddius, and Erimoth, and Helias.  28 And of
the sonnes of Zathoim:  Eliadas, and Liasumus, Zochias, and Larimoth, &
Zabdis, and Thebedias.  29 And of the sonnes of Zebes:  Ioannes, and
Amanias, and Zabdias, and Emeus.  30 And of the sonnes of Banni:  Olamus,
& Maluchus, and Ieddeus, and Iasub, and Azabus, & Ierimoth.  31 And of
the sonnes of Addin:  Nathus, and Moosias, & Caleus, and Raanas, Maaseas,
Mathathias, and Beseel, and Bonnus, and Manasses.  32 And of the sonnes
of Nuae:  Noneas, and Aseas, and Melchias, and Sameas, and Simon,
Beniamin, and Malchus, and Marras.  33 And of the sonnes of Asom:
Carianeus, Mathathias, & Bannus, & Eliphalach, and Manasses, and Semei.
34 And of the sonnes of Banni:  Ieremias, and Moadias, and Abramus, &
Iohel, and Baneas, & Pelias, and Ionas, and Marimoth, & Eliasib, and
Matheneus, and Eliasis, and Orizas, and Dielus, and Semedius, & Zambris,
and Iosephus.  35 And of the sonnes of Nobei:  Idelus, and Mathathias,
and Sabadus, and Zecheda, Zedmi, and Iessei, Baneas.  36 Al these maried
outlandish wiues, and did put them away with their children.  37 And the
Priestes and the Leuites, and they that were of Israel, dwelt in
Ierusalem, and in the whole countrie in the newmoone of the seuenth
moneth.  And the children of Israel were in their habitations.  38 And al
the multitude was gathered together into the court, which is on the east
of the sacred gate:  39 and they sayd to Esdras the high priest, and
reader, that he should bring the law of Moyses, which was deliuered of
our Lord the God of Israel.  40 And Esdras the high priest brought the
law to al the multitude of them from man vnto woman, and to al the
priestes to heare the law in the newmoone of the seuenth moneth.  41 And
he read in the court, which is before the sacred gate of the temple, from
breake of day vntil euening before men and wemen.  And they al gaue their
minde to the law.  42 And Esdras the priest, and reader of the law stoode
vpon a tribunal of wood, which was made.  43 And by him stood Mathathias,
and Samus, and Ananias, Azarias, Vrias, Ezechias, and Balsamus on the
right hand, 44 and on the left Faldeus, Misael, Malachias, Ambusthas,
Sabus, Nabadias, and Zacharias.  45 And Esdras tooke the booke before al
the multitude:  for he was chiefe in glorie in the sight of al.  46 And
when he had ended the law, they stood al vpright:  and Esdras blessed our
Lord the most high God, the God of Sabaoth omnipotent.  47 And al the
people answered:  Amen.  And lifting vp their handes falling on the
ground, they adored our Lord.  48 Iesus and Banaeus, and Sarebias, and
Iaddimus, and Accubus, and Sabbathaeus, and Calithes, & Azarias, and
Ioradus, and Ananias, and Philias Leuites, 49 who taught the law of our
Lord, and read the same in the multitude, & euerie one preferred them
that vnderstood the lesson.  50 And Atharathes sayd to Esdras the high
priest and the reader, and to the Leuites, that taught the multitude,
51 saying:  This day is sancitified to our Lord.  And they al wept, when
they had heard the law.  52 And Esdras sayd, departing therfore eate ye
al the fattest thinges, & drinke al most swete things, and send giftes to
them that haue not.  53 For this is the holy day of our Lord, & be not
sad.  For our Lord wil glorifie you.  54 And the Leuites denounced openly
to al, saying:  This day is holie, be not sad.  55 And they went al to
eate, and drinke, and make merie, and to geue giftes to them that had
not, that they might make merie, for they were excedingly exalted with
the wordes that they were taught.  56 And they were al gathered in
Ierusalem to celebrate the ioy, according to the testament of our Lord
the God of Israel.
THE FOVRTH BOOKE OF ESDRAS.
Esdras is sent to expostulate with the vngratful Iewes for neglecting
Gods manie great benefites.
THE second book of Esdras the prophet, the sonne of Sarei, the sonne of
Azarei, the sonne of Helcias, the sonne of Sadanias, the sonne of Sadoch,
the sonne of Achitob, (1 Esd 7:1) 2 the sonne of Achias, the sonne of
Phinees, the sonne of Heli, the sonne of Amerias, the sonne of Asiel, the
sonne of Marimoth, the sonne of Arna, the sonne of Ozias, the sonne of
Borith, the sonne of Abisei, the sonne of Phinees, the sonne of Eleazar,
3 the sonne of Aaron of the tribe of Leui; who was captiue in the
countrie of the Medes, in the reigne of Artaxerxes king of the Persians.
4 And the word of our Lord came to me, saying:  5 Goe, and tel my people
their wicked deedes, and their children the iniquities, that they haue
done against me, that they may tel their childrens children:  6 because
the sinnes of their parentes are increased in them, for they being
forgetful of me haue sacrified to strange goddes.  7 Did not I bring them
out of the land of AEgypt from the house of bondage?  But they haue
prouoked me, & haue despised my counsels.  8 But doe thou shake of the
heare of thy head, and throw al euils vpon them:  because they haue not
obeyed my law.  And it is a people without discipline.  9 How long shal I
beare with them, on whom I haue bestowed so great benefiates?  10 I haue
ouer throwen manie kinges from them.  I haue stroke Pharao with his
seruantes, and al his hoste.  (Ex 14)  11 Al nations did I destroy before
their face, & in the East I dissipated the peoples of two prouinces Tyre
and Sidon, and I slew al their aduersaries.  12 But speake thou to them,
saying:  Thus sayth our Lord:  13 I made you passe through the sea, and
gaue you fensed streates from the beginning.  I gaue you Moyses for your
gouernour, and Aaron for the Priest:  14 I gaue you light by the piller
of fire, & did manie meruelous things among you:  but you haue forgotten
me, sayth our Lord.  (Ex 13)  15 Thus sayth our Lord omnipotent:  The
quayle was a signe to you, I gaue you a campe for defense, and there you
murmured:  16 And you triumphed not in my name for the destruction of
your enemies, but yet vntil now you haue murmured.  (Ex 16)  17 Where
are the benefites, that I haue geuen you?  Did you not crie out to me
when you were hungrie in the desert, 18 saying:  Why hast thou brought vs
into this desert to kil vs?  it had bene better for vs to serue the
AEgyptians, then to dye in this desert.  (Num 14)  19 I was sorie for
your mournings, & gaue you manna to eate.  You did eate bread of Angels.
(Ex 16 / Wis 16:20)  20 When you thirsted did not I cleaue the rocke, &
waters flowed in abundance?  for the heates I couered you with the leaues
of trees.  21 I deliuered vnto you fatte landes:  The Chananeites, and
Pherezeites, and Philistheans I threw out from your face:  what shal I
yet doe to you, sayth our Lord?  (Isa 9:4)  22 Thus sayth our Lord
omnipotent:  In the desert when you were thirstie in the riuer of the
Amorrheites, and blasphemeing my name, (Ex 15:25) 23 I gaue you not fire
for blasphemies, but casting wood into the water, I made the riuer swete.
24 What shal I doe to thee Iacob?  Thou wouldest not obey o Iuda.  I wil
transferre my self to other nations, and wil geue them my name, that they
may keepe my ordinances.  (Ex 32)  25 Because you haue forsaken me, I
aslo forsake you:  when you aske mercie of me, I wil not haue mercie.
(Isa 1:15)  26 When you shal inuocate me, I wil not heare you.  For you
haue defiled your handes with bloud, and your fete are quicke to commit
murders.  27 Not as though you haue forsaken me, but yourselues, sayth
our Lord.  28 Thus saith our Lord omnipotent, haue not I desired you, as
a father his sonnes, and a mother her daughters, and as a nurce her litle
ones, 29 that you would be my people, and I your God, and to me for
children, and I to you for a father?  30 So haue I gathered you, as the
henne her chickenes vnder her winges.  But now what shal I doe to you?  I
wil throw you from my face.  (Matt 23:37)  31 When you shal bring me
oblation, I wil turne away my face from you.  (Isa 66:5)  For I haue
refused your festiual dayes, & newmoones, and circumcisions.  32 I sent
my seruantes the prophetes to you, whom being taken you slew, and mangled
their bodies, whose bloud I wil require, sayth our Lord.  33 Thus sayth
our Lord omnipotent, your house is made desolate, I wil throw you away,
as the winde doth stubble, 34 and your children shal not haue issue:
because they haue neglected my commandment, and haue done that which is
euil before me.  35 I wil deliuer your houses to a people comming, who
not hearing me do beleue:  to whom I haue not shewed signes, they wil do
the thinges that I haue commanded.  36 The prophetes they haue not sene,
and they wil be mindful of their iniquities.  37 I cal to witnes the
grace of the people comming, whose litle ones reioyce with ioy, not seing
me with their carnal eyes, but in spirit beleuing the thinges that I haue
sayd.  38 And now brother behold what glorie:  and see people comming
from the east, 39 to whom I wil geue the conduction of Abraham, Isaac,
and Iacob, and of Osee, and Amos, and of Ioel, and Abdias, and Ionas, and
Michaeas, 40 and Naum and Habacuc, of Sophonias, Aggaeus, Zacharias, and
Malachias, who also is called the Angel of our Lord.  (Mal 3:1)
The Synagogue expostulateth with her children for their ingratitude;
10. shewing that they shal be forsaken, and the gentiles called.
THVS saith our Lord:  I brought this people out of bondage, to whom I
gaue commandment by my seruantes the Prophetes, whom they would not
heare, but made my counsel frustrate.  2 Their mother that bare them,
sayth to them:  Goe children, because I am a wydow and forsaken.  3 I
brought you vp with ioy, & haue lost you with mourning & sorow, because
you haue sinned before our Lord your God, & haue done that which is euil
before him.  4 But now what shal I doe to you?  I am a wydow and
desolote, goe my children, & aske mercie of our Lord.  5 And I cal thee o
father a witnes vpon the mother of the children, that would not keepe my
testament, 6 that thou geue them confusion, & their mother into spoile,
that there be no generation of them.  7 Let their names be dispersed into
the Gentiles, let them be destroyed out of the land:  because they haue
despised my sacrament.  8 Woe be to thee Assur, which hidest the wicked
with thee.  Thou naughtie nation, remember what I did to Sodom &
Gomorrha:  (Gen 19:24)  9 whose land lieth in cloddes of pitch, & heapes
of ashes:  so wil I make them, that haue not heard me, saith our Lord
omnipotent.  10 Thus saith our Lord to Esdras:  Tel my pople, that I wil
geue them the kingdom of Ierusalem, which I ment to geue to Isreal.
11 And I wil take to me the glorie of them, and wil geue them eternal
tabernacles, which I had prepared for them.  12 The wood of life shal be
to them for an odour of oyntment, and they shal not labour, nor be
wearied.  13 Goe & you shal receiue.  Aske for your selues a few dayes,
that they may abide.  Now the kingdom is prepared for you, watch ye.
14 Cal thou heauen and earth to witnes:  for I haue destroyed euil, and
haue created good, because I liue sayth our Lord.  15 Mother embrace thy
children, bring them vp with ioy.  As a doue confirme their feete:
because I haue chosen thee, sayth our Lord.  16 And I wil raise againe
the dead out of their places, and out of the monumentes I wil bring them
forth, because I haue knowen my name in Israel.  17 Feare not o mother of
the children, because I haue chosen thee, saith our Lord.  18 I wil send
thee ayde, my seruantes I saie, and Ieremie, at whose counsel I haue
sanctified, and prepared for thee tweleue trees loden with diuerse
fruites, 19 and as manie fountaines flowing milke and honie:  and seuen
huge mountaines, hauing the rose and the lilie, in the which I wil fil
thy children with ioy.  (Ex 15:27)  20 Iustifie thou the widow, iudge for
the pupil, geue to the needie, defend the orphane, cloth the naked,
21 cure the broken & feeble, mocke not the lame, defend the maimed, and
admitte the blind to the vision of my glorie.  22 The old man & the yong
keepe with in thy walles:  23 where thou shalt finde the dead, committe
them to the graue signing it, & I wil geue thee the first seate in my
resurrection.  (Tob 1:20)  24 Pause and rest my people, because thy rest
shal come.  25 As a good nurce nourish thy children, confirme their
feete.  26 The seruantes that I haue geuen thee, none of them shal
perish.  For I wil require them of thy number.  27 Be not wearied.  For
when the day of affliction and distresse shal come, others shal weepe,
and be sad, but thou shalt be merie and plenteous.  28 The gentiles shal
enuie, and shal be able to doe nothing against thee, sayth our Lord.
29 My handes shal couer thee, that thy children see not hel.  30 Be
pleasant thou mother with thy children, because I wil deliuer thee sayth
our Lord.  31 Remember thy children that sleepe, for I wil bring them out
of the sides of the earth, & wil doe mercie with them:  because I am
merciful, sayth our Lord omnipotent.  32 Embrace thy children til I come,
& shew them mercie:  because my fountaines runne ouer, and my grace shal
not faile.  33 I Esdras receiued commandment of our Lord, in mount Oreb;
that I should goe to Israel:  to whom when I came, they refused me, and
reiected the commandement of our Lord.  34 And therfore, I say vnto you
gentiles, which heare, and vnderstand, Looke for your pastor, he wil geue
you the rest of eternitie:  because he is at hand, that shal come in the
end of the world.  35 Be ye readie for the rewardes of the kingdom,
because perpetual light shal shine to you for time euerlasting.  36 Flee
from the shadow of this world:  receiue ye the pleasantnes of your
glorie.  I openly cal to witnes my sauiour.  37 Receiue the commended
gift and be pleasant, geuing thankes to him that called you to the
heauenlie kingdomes.  38 Arise, & stand & see the number of them that are
signed in the feast of our Lord.  39 They that haue transferred them
selues from the shadow of the world, haue receiued glorious garmentes of
our Lord.  40 Receiue o Sion thy number, and shut vp thyne made white,
which haue accomplished the law of our Lord.  41 The number of thy
children, which thou didst wish is ful.  Desire the powre of our Lord
that thy people may be sanctified, which was called from the beginning.
42 I Esdras saw in mount Sion a great multiude, which I could not number,
and they did al prayse our Lord with songes.  (Apoc 7:9)  43 And in the
middes of them was a young man high of stature, appearing aboue ouer them
al, & he put crownes vpon euerie one of their heades, and he was more
exalted.  And I was astonied at the miracle.  44 Then asked I an Angel,
and sayd:  Who are these Lord?  45 Who answering sayd to me:  These are
they that haue laid of the mortal garment, and taken an immortal, and
haue confessed the name of God.  Now they are crowned, and receiue
palmes.  46 And I sayd to the Angel:  That yongman what is he, which
putteth the crownes vpon them, and geueth palmes into their handes?
47 And answering he sayd to me:  The same is the Sonne of God, whom they
did confesse in the world:  & I begane to magnifie them, that stood
strongly for the name of our Lord.  48 Then sayd the Angel to me:  Goe,
tel my people, what maner of meruelous thinges and how great, thou hast
sene of the Lord God.
The workes of God are wonderful from the beginning, 7. and men vngrateful
13. In Abraham God chose to himself a peculiar people:  who neuertheles
were froward, and obstinate.  23. He also chose Dauid, but stil the
people were sinful:  28. the Babylonians also, by whom the are afflicted,
are no lesse but rather greater sinners.
IN the thirteth yeare of the ruine of the citie I was in Babylon, and was
trubled lying in my chamber, and my cogitations came vp ouer my hart:
2 because I saw the desolation of Sion, and the abundance of them that
dwelt in Babylon.  3 And my spirit was tossed excedingly, and I began to
speake to the highest timorous wordes, 4 and sayd:  O Lord dominatour
thou spakest from the beginning, when thou didst plant the earth, and
that alone, and didst rule ouer the people, (Gen 1) 5 and gauest Adam a
dead bodie:  but that also was the worke of thy handes, & didst breath
into him the spirit of life, and he was made to liue before thee:
(Gen 2:7)  6 and thou broughst him into paradise, which thy right hand
had planted, before the earth came.  7 And him thou didst command to loue
thy way, and he transgressed it, & forth with thou didst institute death
in him, and in his posteritie, and there were borne nations, and tribes,
and peoples, and kindreds, wherof there is no number.  8 And euerie
nation walked in their owne wil, & they did meruelous thinges before
thee, and despised thy preceptes.  9 And agane in time thou broughst in
the floud vpon inhabitantes of the world, and didst destroy them.
(Gen 7)  10 And there was made in euery one of them, as vnto Adam to dye,
so to them the floud, 11 But thou didst leaue one of them, Noe with his
house and of him were al the iust.  12 And it came to passe, when they
began to be multiplied, that dwelt vpon the earth, & multiplied children
and peoples and manie nations:  and they begane againe to doe impietie
more then the former.  13 And it came to passe when they did iniquitie
before thee, thou didst choose thee a man of them whose name was Abraham.
14 And thou didst loue him and to him onlie thou didst shew thy wil.
(Gen 12)  15 And thou didst dispose vnto him an euerlasting testament,
and toldst him that thou wouldst neuer forsake his seede.  And thou
gauest him Issac, and to Isaac thou gauest Iacob and Esau.  16 And Iacob
thou didst seuer to thy selfe, but Esau thou didst separate.  And Iacob
grewe to a great multitude.  17 And it came to passe when thou didst
bring forth his sede out of AEgypt, thou broughst it vpon mount Sinai.
(Ex 19)  18 And thou didst bowe the heauens, and fasten the earth, and
didst shake the world, and madest the depthes to tremble, and trubledst
the world, 19 and thy glorie passed foure gates of fire, and of
earthquake, and winde, and frost, that thou mightst geue a law to the
seede of Iacob, and to the generation of Israel diligence.  20 And thou
didst not take away from them a malignant hart, that thy law might bring
forth fruite in them.  21 For Adam the first bearing a vicious hart
transgressed and was ouercome, yea and al that were borne of him.  22 And
it was made a permanent infirmitie, and the law with the hart of the
people, with the wickednes of the roote, and that which is good departed,
and the wicked remayned.  23 And the times passed, & the yeares were
ended:  and thou didst raise vp vnto thee a seruant named Dauid, 24 and
spakest vnto him to build a citie of thy name, and to offer vnto thee in
it frankencense, and oblations.  25 And this was done manie yeares, and
they that inhabited the citie forsooke thee, 26 in al things as Adam and
al his generations.  For they also vsed a wicked hart.  27 And thou didst
deliuer thy citie into the hands of thyne enimies.  28 Why, doe they
better thinges, that inhabite Babylon?  And for this shal she rule ouer
Sion?  (Jer 12)  29 It came to passe when I was come hither, and had sene
the impieties that can not be numbred:  and my soul saw manie offending
this thirteth yeare, & my hart was astonied:  30 because I saw how thou
bearest with their sinne, and didst spare them that did impiously, and
didst destroy thine owne people, and preserue thine enimies, and didst
not signifie it.  31 I nothing remember how this way should be forsaken:
doth Babylon better thinges then Sion?  32 Or hath anie nation knowen
thee beside Israel:  or what tribes haue beleued thy testamentes as
Iacob?  33 Whose reward hath not appeared, nor their labour fructified.
For passing through I passed among the nations, and I saw them abound,
and not mindeful of thy commandmentes.  34 Now therfore wey our
iniquities in a ballance, and theirs that dwel in the world:  & thy name
shal not be found, but in Israel.  35 Or when haue not they sinned in thy
sight, that inhabite the earth?  or what nation hath so obserued thy
commandmentes?  36 These certes by their names thou shalt finde to haue
kept thy commandments, but the nations thou shalt not finde.
Mans witte and reason is not able to vnderstand the counsel and iudgement
of God, 22. why his people are afflicted by wicked nations, 33. nor of
times, and thinges to come.
AND the Angel answered me, that was sent to me, whose name was Vriel,
2 and sayd to me:  Thy hart exceding hath exceded in this world, & thou
thinkest to comprehend the way of the Highest.  3 And I sayd:  It is so
my Lord.  And he answered me, & sayd:  I am sent to shew thee three
wayes, & to propose to thee three similitudes.  4 Of the which if thou
shalt declare to me one of them, I also wil shew thee the way which thou
desirest to see, and wil teach thee whence a wicked hart is.  5 And I
sayd, Speak my Lord.  And he sayd to me:  Goe, wey me the weight of the
fire, or measure me the blast of the winde, or cal me backe the day that
is past.  6 And I answered, and sayd:  what man borne can doe it, that
thou askest me of these thinges?  7 And he sayd to me:  If I should aske
thee, saying:  How great habitations are there in the hart of the sea, or
how great vaines be there in the beginning of the depth, or how great
vaines be there aboue the firmament, and what are the issues of paradise:
8 thou wouldest perhaps say to me:  I haue not descended into the depth,
nor into hel as yet, neither haue I ascended at anie time into heauen.
9 But now I haue not asked thee, sauing of the fire, and the winde, and
the day by the which thou hast passed, and from the which thou canst not
be separated:  and thou hast not answered me of them.  10 And he sayd to
me:  Thou canst not know the thinges that are thine which grow together
with thee:  11 and how can thy vessel comprehend the way of the Highest,
and now the world being outwardly corrupted, vnderstand the corruption
euident in my sight:  12 I sayd to him:  Better were it for vs not to be,
then yet liuing to liue in impieties, and to suffer, and not to
vnderstand for what thing.  13 And he answered me, & said:  Going forth I
went forward to a wood of trees in the filde, and they deuised a deuise,
(Judges 9 / 2 Par 25) 14 and said:  Come and let vs goe, and make warre
against the sea, that it may retyre backe before vs, and we may make vs
other woodes.  15 And in like maner the waues of the sea they also
deuised a deuise, and sayd:  Come let vs goe vp, let vs ouerthrow the
woodes of the filde, that there also we may consummate an other countrie
for our selues.  16 And the woodes deuise was made vaine, for fire came,
and consumed it.  17 Likewise also the deuise of the waues of the sea.
For the sand stood, & stayed them.  18 For if thou wert iudge of these,
whom wouldest thou begin to iustifie, or whom to condemne?  19 And I
answered, and sayd:  Verely they deuised a vayne deuise.  For the earth
is geuen to the wood, and a place to the sea to carie her waues.  20 And
he answered me, and sayed:  Thou hast iudged wel, and why hast thou not
iudged for thy self?  21 For as the earth is geuen to the wood, and the
sea for the waues therof:  so they that inhabite vpon the earth, can
vnderstand onlie the thinges that are vpon the earth:  and they vpon the
heauens, the thinges that are aboue the height of the heauens.  22 And I
answered, and sayd:  I besech thee Lord, that sense may be geuen me to
vnderstand.  23 For I meant not to aske of thy superiour thinges, but of
those that passe by vs dayly.  For what cause Israel is geuen into
reproche to the gentiles, the people whom thou hast loued, is geuen to
impious tribes, & the law of our fathers is brought to destruction, & the
written ordinances are no where:  24 and we haue passed out of the world,
as locustes, and our life is astonishment and dreade, and we are not
worthie to obtaine mercie.  25 But what wil he doe to his name that is
inuocated vpon vs?  and of these thinges I did aske.  26 And he answered
me, and sayd:  If thou search very much, thou shalt often meruail:
because the world hastening hasteneth to passe, 27 and can not comprehend
the thinges which in times to come are promised to the iust:  because
this world is ful of iniustice and infirmities.  28 But conerning the
thinges that thou demandest I wil tel thee:  for the euil is sowed, and
the destruction therof is not yet come.  29 If then that which is sowen
be not turned vp, and the place depart where the euil is sowen, that shal
not come where the good is sowen.  30 Because the grayne of il seede hath
bene sowen in the hart of Adam from the beginning:  and how much impietie
hath it ingendered vntil now, and doth ingender vntil the floore come?
31 And esteme with thy self the graine of the il seede, how much fruite
of impietie it hath ingendred:  32 When the eares shal be cut, which are
innumerable, what a great floore wil they begin to make?  33 And I
answered, and sayd:  How, and when shal these things be?  why are our
yeares few and euil?  34 And he answered me, and sayd to me, Hasten not
aboue the Highest.  For thou doest hasten in vaine to be aboue him, for
thy excesse is much.  35 Did not the soules of the iust in the cellars,
aske of these things, saying:  How hope I so, and when shal the fruite
come of the floore of our reward?  36 And Ieremiel the Archangel answered
to those things, and sayd:  When the number of the sedes in you shal be
filled, because he hath weyed the world in a balance, 37 and with a
measure hath he measured the times, and in number he hath numbered the
times, and hath not moued, nor stirred them, vntil the foresayd measure
be filled.  38 And I answered, and sayd:  O Lord Dominatour, we also are
al ful of impietie.  39 And left perhaps for vs the floores of the iust
be not filled, for the sinnes of the inhabitantes vpon the earth.  40 And
he answered me, and sayd:  Goe, and aske a woman with childe, if when
she hath accomplished her nine monethes, her wombe can yet hold the
infant within it?  41 And I sayd it can not Lord.  And he sayd to me, in
hel the cellars of the soules are like to the matrice.  42 For as she
that is:  In trauail maketh hast, to escape the necessitie of trauailing:
so this also hasteneth to render those thinges which are commended to it.
43 From the beginning it shal be shewed thee touching those thinges,
which thou doest couet to see.  44 And I answered, and sayd:  If I haue
found grace before thine eyes, & if it be possible, and if I by fitte,
45 shew mee if there be more to come then is passed, or more things haue
passed, then are to come.  46 What passed, I know:  but what is to come,
I know not.  47 And he sayd to me:  Stand vpon the right side, and I wil
shew thee the interpretation of the similitude.  48 And I stood, and saw:
and behold a burning fornace passed before me, & it came to passe when
the flame passed, I saw:  and behold the smoke ouercame.  49 And these
thinges there passed before me a clowd ful of water, and with violence
casting in much raine:  and when the violence of raine was cast, the
droppes therin ouercame.  50 And he sayd to me:  Thinke with thyself, as
the raine increaseth more then the droppes, and the fire then the smoke:
so did the measure that passed, more a bound.  But the droppes, and the
smoke ouercame:  51 and I prayed, & sayd, shal I liue thinkest thou vntil
these dayes?  or what shal be in those dayes?  52 He answered me, and
sayd:  Of the signes wherof thou askest me, in part I can tel thee,
howbeit of thy life I was not sent to tel thee, neither doe I know.
Diuers signes of thinges to come are shewed to Esdras by an Angel:
16. for the comforth of the people in captiuitie.
BVT concerning signes:  behold the dayes shal come, wherin they that
inhabite the earth shal be taken in a great number:  and the way of truth
shal be hid:  and the countrie shal be barren from fayth.  2 And
iniustice shal be multiplied aboue that which thy self seest, & aboue
that which thou hast heard in time past.  (Matt 24)  3 And they shal put
their foote into the countrie which now thou seest to reigne, and they
shal see it desolate.  4 And if the Highest geue thee life, thou shalt
see after the third trumpet, and the sunne shal sodenly shine agayne in
the night, and the moone thrise in a day, 5 and out of wood bloud shal
distil, and the stone shal geue his voice, and the peoples shal be moued:
6 and he reigne, whom they hope not that inhabite vpon the earth, and
soules shal make their flight away.  7 & the sea of Sodom shal cast the
fishes, and shal make a noise in the night, which manie knew not, and al
shal heare the voice therof, 8 and there shal be made a confusion in
manie places, and the fire shal often be sent backe, and the sauage
beastes shal goe to other places, and wemen in their monethlie flowers
shal bring forth monsters, 9 and in swete waters shal salt waters be
found, and al frendes shal ouerthrow one an other:  and then shal witte
be hid, and vnderstanding shal be separated into his cellar:  10 and it
shal be sought of manie, and shal not be found:  and iniustice shal be
multiplied, and incontinencie vpon the earth.  11 And one countrie shal
aske her neighbour, and shal say:  Hath iustice doing iust passed
throught thee?  and she shal denie it.  12 And it shal be in that time,
men shal hope, and shal not obtaine:  they shal labour, and their wayes
shal not haue successe.  13 These signes I am permitted to tel thee:  and
if thou pray againe and weepe, as also now, and fast seuen dayes, thou
shalt heare againe greater thinges then these.  14 And I awaked, and my
bodie did shiuer excedingly:  and my soule laboured, that it fainted:
15 and the Angel that came, that spake in me, held me, and strengthened
me, and sette me vpon my feete.  16 And it came to passe in the second
night, and Salathiel the prince of the people came to me, and sayd to me:
Where wast thou?  and why is thy countenance heauie?  17 Knowest thou not
that Isreal is committed to thee in the countrie of their transmigration?
18 Rise vp therfore, and taste bread, and forsake vs not, as the pastour
his flocke in the hand of wicked wolues.  19 And I sayd to him:  Goe from
me, & approch not vnto me.  And he heard, as I sayd:  and he departed
from me.  20 And I fasted seuen dayes howling & weeping, as Vriel the
Angel commanded me.  21 And it came to passe after seuen dayes, and
againe cogitations of my hart molested me very much, 22 and my soule
resumed the spirit of vnderstanding:  & agayne I began to speake wordes
before the Highest:  23 and I sayd:  Lord Dominatour of euerie wood of
the earth, & al the trees therof, thou hast chosen one vineyard:  24 & of
euerie land of the world thou hast chosen thee one ditch:  & of al the
flowers of the world thou hast chosen thee one lilie:  25 and of al
depthes of the sea, thou hast filled thee one riuer:  and of al the
builded cities, thou hast sanctified vnto thyself Sion:  26 and of al
created soules, thou hast named thee one doue:  and of al beastes that
were made, thou hast prouided thee one shepe:  27 and of al multiplied
peoples, thou host purchased thee one people:  and a law approued of al
thou hast geuen to this people, whom thou didst desire.  28 And now Lord,
why hast thou deliuered one vnto manie?  And thou hast perpared vpon one
roote others, and hast dispersed thy onlie one in manie:  29 and they
haue troden vpon it, which gainesayd thy couenants, and which beleued not
thy testamentes.  30 And if hating thou hatest thy people, it ought to be
chastised with thy handes.  31 And it came to passe, when I had spoken
the wordes, and the Angel was sent to me, that came to me before the
night past, 32 and he sayd to me:  Heare me, and I wil instruct thee:
and harken to me, and I wil adde before thee.  33 And I sayd:  Speake my
Lord.  And he sayd to me:  Thou art become excedingly in excesse of minde
for Israel:  hast thou loued it more then him that made it?  34 And I
sayd to him:  No Lord, but for sorow I haue spoken, for my veynes torment
me euerie houre, to apprehend the pathe of the Highest, and to search
part of his iudgement.  35 And he sayd to me:  Thou canst not.  And I
sayd:  Why Lord?  To what was I borne, or why was not my mothers wombe my
graue, that I might not see the labour of Iacob, & the wearines of the
stocke of Israel?  36 And he sayd to me:  Number me the thinges that are
not yet come, and gather me the dispersed droppes, and make me the
withered flowers grene againe, 37 and open me the shut cellars, & bring
me forth the blastes inclosed in them, shew me the image of a voice:  and
then wil I shew thee the labour that thou desirest to see.  38 And I
sayd:  Lord Dominatour, for who is there that can know these thinges, but
he that hath not his habitation with men?  39 And I am vnwise, and how
can I speake of these thinges, which thou hast asked me?  40 And he sayd
to me:  As thou canst not doe one of these thiges, which haue bene sayd:
so canst thou not finde my iudgement, or in the end the charitie, which I
haue promised to the people.  41 And I sayd:  But behold Lord thou art
nigh to them that are nere the end:  and what shal they doe that haue
bene before me, or we, or they after vs?  42 And he sayd to me:  I wil
resemble my iudgement to a crowne.  As there shal not be slacknes of the
last, so neither swiftnes of the former.  43 And I answered, and sayd:
Couldst thou not make them that haue bene, and that are, and that shal
be, at once, that thou mayst shew thy iudgement the quicker?  44 And he
answered me, and sayd:  The creature can not hasten aboue the Creatour,
nor the world sustayne them that are to be created in it, at once.
45 And I sayd:  As thou didst say to thy seruant, that quickening thou
didst quicken the creature created by thee at once, and the creature
susteined it:  it may now also beare them present at once.  46 And he
sayd to me:  Aske the matrice of a woman, & thou shalt say to it:  And if
thou bring forth children, why by times?  Aske it therfore, that it geue
ten at once.  47 And I sayd, it can not verily:  but according to time.
48 And he sayd to me:  And I haue geuen a matrice to the earth for them,
that are sowen vpon it by time.  49 For as the infant bringeth not forth
the thinges that perteyne to the aged, so haue I disposed the world
created of me.  50 And I asked, and sayd:  Wheras thou hast now geuen me
a way, I wil speake before thee:  for our mother, of whom thou toldest
me, yet she is yong:  now draweth nigh to old age.  51 And he answered
me, and sayd:  Aske her that beareth children, and she wil tel thee.
52 For thou shalt say to her:  Why are not they whom thou hast brought
forth, now like to them that were before thee, but lesse of stature?
53 And she also wil say vnto thee:  They that are borne in the youth of
streingth are of one sort, and they of an other, that are borne about the
time of old age, when the matrice fayleth.  54 Consider therfore thou
also, that you are of lesse stature, then they that were before you:
55 and they that are after you, of lesser then you, as it were creatures
now waxing old, and past the strength of youth.  56 And I sayd:  I besech
thee Lord, if I haue found grace before thine eyes, shew vnto thy
seruant, by whom thou doest visite thy creature.
God knowing al thinges before they were made, created them 54. for man:
and considerth the endes of al.
AND he sayd to me:  In the beginning of the earthlie world, and before
the endes of the world stood, and before the congregation of the windes
did blow, (Prov 8) 2 and before the voyces of thunders sounded, & before
the flashinges of lightenings shined, and before the fundations of
paradise were confirmed, 3 and before beautiful flowers were sene, and
before the moued powers were established, and before the innumerable
hostes of Angels were gathered, 4 and before the heightes of the ayre
were aduanced, and before the measures of the firmaments were named, and
before the chymneies were hote in Sion, 5 and before the present yeares
were searched out, and before their inuentions that now sinne, were put
away, and they signed that made fayth their treasure:  6 then I thought,
and they were made by me only, and not by any other:  and the end by me,
and not by any other.  7 And I answered, and sayd:  What separation of
times shal there be?  and when shal the end of the former be, and the
begynning of that which foloweth?  8 And he sayd to me, from Abraham vnto
Isaac, when Iacob and Esau were borne of him, the hand of Iacob held from
the begynning the heele of Esau, 9 for the end of this world is Esau, and
the begynning of the next Iacob.  10 The hand of a man betwen the heele
and the hand.  Aske no other thing Esdras.  11 And I answered, and sayd:
O Lord dominatour, if I haue found grace before thyne eyes, 12 I pray
thee shew thy seruant the end of thy signes, wherof thou didst shew me
part the night before.  13 And he answered, and sayd to me:  Arise vpon
thy feete, and heare a voice most ful of sound.  14 And it shal be as it
were a commotion, neither shal the place be moued wherin thou standest.
15 Therfore when it speaketh be not thou afrayd, because of the end is
the word, and the fundation of the earth vnderstood, 16 for concerning
them the word trembleth and is moued, for it knoweth that their end must
be changed.  17 And it came to passe, when I had heard, I rose vpon my
feete, and I heard:  and behold a voice speaking, and the sound therof as
the sound of manie waters:  18 and it sayd:  Behold the dayes come, and
the time shal be when I wil begyne to approch, that I may visite the
inhabitantes vpon the earth.  19 And when I wil begin to enquire of them
that vniustly haue hurt with their iniustice, and when the humilitie of
Sion shal be accomplished.  20 And when the world shal be ouersigned that
shal beginne to passe, I wil doe these signes:  Bookes shal be opened
before the face of the firmament, and al shal see together, 21 and
infantes of one yeare shal speake with their voices, & wemen with child
shal bring forth vntimely infantes not ripe of three or foure monethes,
and shal liue, and shal be raysed vp.  22 And sodenly shal appeare sowen
places not sowen, & ful cellers shal sodenly be found emptie:  23 and a
trumpet shal sound; which when al shal heare, they wil sodenly be afrayd.
24 And it shal be in that time, freindes as enimies shal ouerthrow
freindes, and the earth shal be afrayd with them:  & the vaynes of
fountaynes shal stand, and shal not runne in three howres:  25 and it
shal be, euerie one that shal be leaft of al these, of whom I haue
foretold thee, he shal be saued, and shal see my saluation, & the end of
your world.  26 And the men that are receiued, shal see, they that tasted
not death from their natiuitie, and the hart of the inhabitantes shal be
turned into an other sense.  27 For euil shal be put out, and deceite
shal be extinguished, 28 but fayth shal florish, and corruption shal be
ouercome, and truth shal be shewed, which was without fruite so manie
dayes.  29 And it came to passe, when he spake to me, & I loe by litle &
litle looked on him before whom I stood, 30 and he sayd to me these
wordes:  I am come to shew thee the time of the night to come.  31 If
therfore thou pray agayne, and fast agayne seuen dayes, agayne I wil tel
thee greater thinges by the day which I haue heard.  32 For thy voice is
heard before the Highest.  For the strong hath sene thy direction, and
hath fore sene the chastitie which thou hast had from thy youth:  33 and
for this cause he hath sent me to shew thee al these thinges, and to say
to thee, haue confidence, and feare not, 34 and hasten not with the
former times to thinke vayne thinges, that thou hasten not from the last
times.  35 And it came to passe after these thinges, and I wept againe,
and in like maner I fasted seuen dayes, to accomplish the three weekes,
that were told me.  36 And it came to passe in the eight night, and my
hart was trubled againe in me, and I began to speake before the Highest.
37 For my spirit was inflamed excedingly, and my soul was distressed.
38 And I sayd:  O Lord, speaking thou didst speake from the beginning of
creature from the first day, saying:  Let heauen be made and earth:  and
thy word was a perfect worke.  39 And then there was spirit, and
darknesse was caried about, and silence, the sound of the voyce of man
was not yet from thee.  40 Then thou didst command the lighsome light to
be brought forth of thy treasures, wherby thy worke might appeare.
41 And in the second day thou didst create the spirit of the firmament,
and commandest it to diuide, and to make a diuision betwen the waters,
that a certayn part should depart vpward, and part should remaine beneth.
42 And in the third day thou didst command the waters to be gathered
together in the seuenth part of the earth:  but sixe partes thou didst
drie and preserue, that of them might be seruing before thee thinges
sowen of God, and tilled.  43 For thy word proceded, and the worke forth
with was made.  44 For sodenly came forth fruite of multitude infinite,
and diurse tastes of concupiscence, and flowers of vnchangeable colour,
and odours of vnsearcheable smel, and in the third day these thinges were
made.  45 And in the fourth day thou didst command to be made the
brightnesse of the sunne, the light of the moone, the disposition of the
starres:  46 and didst command them that they should serue man, that
should be made.  47 And in the fifth day:  thou saydst to the seuenth
part, where the water was gathered together, that it should bring forth
beastes, and foules, and fishes:  and so was it done, 48 the dumme water
and without life, the thinges that by Gods appointement were commanded,
made beastes, that therby the nations may declare thy meruelous workes.
49 And then thou didst preserue two soules:  the name of one thou didst
cal Henoch, and the name of the second thou didst cal Leuiathan, 50 and
thou didst separate them from eche other.  For the seuenth part, where
the water was gathered together, could not hold them.  51 And thou gauest
to Henoch one part, which was dried the third day, to dwelt therin, where
are a thousand mountaynes.  52 But to Leuiathan thou gauest the seuenth
part being moyst, and kepst it, that it might be to deuoure whom thou
wilt, and when thou wilt.  53 And in the sixt day thou didst command the
earth, to create before thee cattel, and beastes, and creeping creatures:
54 and ouer these Adam, whom thou madest ruler ouer al the workes, which
thou didst make, & out of him are al we brought forth, and the people
whom thou hast chosen.  55 And al these thinges I haue sayd before thee o
Lord, because thou didst create the world for vs.  56 But the residue of
the nations borne of Adam thou saydst that they were nothing, and that
they were like to spittle, and as it were the droping out of a vessel
thou didst liken the abundance of them.  57 And now Lord, behold these
nations which are reputed for nothing, haue begune to rule ouer vs, and
to deuoure vs:  58 but we thy people whom thou didst cal thy first onlie
begotten emulatour, are deliuered into their handes:  59 and if the world
was created for vs, why doe not we possesse inheritance with the world?
how long these thinges?
Without tribulations no man can attayne immortal life:  17. which the
iust shal inherite:  and the wicked shal perish.  28. Christ wil come,
and dye for mankind.  36. Prayers of the iust shal profite til the end of
this world, but not after the general iudgement.  48. Al sinned in Adam.
52. and haue added more sinnes, 57. but it is in mans powre, 62. by Gods
grace, to liue eternally.
AND it came to passe when I had ended to speake these wordes, the Angel
was sent to me, which had bene sent to me the first nights, 2 and he sayd
to me:  Arise Esdras, and heare the wordes which I am come to speake to
thee.  3 And I sayd:  Speake my God.  And he sayd to me:  The sea is set
in a large place, that it might be deepe and wide:  4 but the entrance to
it shal be set in a straict place, that it might be like to riuers.
5 For who witting wil enter into the sea, and see it, or rule ouer it:
if he passe not the streite, how shal he come into the bredth?  6 Also an
other thing:  A citie is built, and set in a plaine place, and it is ful
of al goodes.  7 The entrance therof narrow, and set in a stepe place, so
that on the right hand there was fire, & on the left depe water:  8 and
there is one onlie pathe set betwen them, that is, betwen the fire and
the water, so that the pathe can not conteyne, but onlie a mans steppe.
9 And if the citie shal be geuen a man for inheritance, if he neuer passe
through the peril set before it, how shal he receiue his inhertance?
10 And I sayd:  So Lord.  And he sayd to me, So it is:  Israel also a
part.  11 For I made the world for them:  and when Adam transgressed my
constitution, that was iudged which was done.  12 And the entrance of
this world were made streite, and sorowful, & paynful, and few and euil,
and ful of dangers, & stuffed very much with labour.  13 For the
entrances of the greater world are large andsecure, and making fruite of
immortalitie.  14 If then they that liue entring in enter into these
streite and vayne thinges:  they can not receiue the thinges that are
layd vp.  15 Now therfore why art thou trubled, wheras thou art
corruptible?  and why art thou moued, wheras thou art mortal?  16 And why
hast thou not taken in thy hart that which is to come, but that which is
present?  17 I answered, and sayd:  Lord dominatour:  behold thou hast
disposed by thy law that the iust shal inherite these thinges, and the
impious shal perish.  (Deut 8)  18 But the iust shal suffer the streites,
hoping for the wyde places, for they that haue done impiously, haue both
suffered the streites, and shal not see the wide places.  19 And he sayd
to me:  There is no iudge aboue God, nor that vnderstandeth aboue the
Highest.  20 For manie present doe perish, because the law of God which
was set before, is neglected.  21 For God commanding commanded them that
came, when they came, what doing they should liue, and what obseruing
they should not be punished.  22 But they were not perswaded, and
gaynesayd him, and made to them selues a cogitation of vanitie, 23 and
proposed to them selues deceites of sinnes, & they sayd to the Highest
that he was not, and they knew not his wayes, 24 and dispised his law,
and denyed his couenaunces, and had not fidelitie in his ordinances, and
did not accomplish his workes.  25 For this cause Esdras, the emptie to
the emptie, and the ful to the ful.  26 Behold the time shal come, and it
shal be when the signes shal come, which I haue foretold thee, and the
bride shal appeare, and appearing she shal be shewed that now is hid with
the earth:  27 and euerie one that is deliuered from the foresaid euils,
he shal see my meruelous thinges.  28 For my sonne IESVS shal be reueled
with them that are with him, and they shal be merie that are leaft in the
foure hundred yeares.  29 And it shal be after these yeares, and my sonne
CHRIST shal dye:  and al men that haue breath, 30 and the world shal be
turned into the old silence seuen dayes, as in the former iudgementes, so
that none shal be leaft.  31 And it shal be after seuen dayes, and the
world shal be raysed vp that yet waketh not, and shal dye corrupted:
32 and the earth shal render the thinges that sleepe in it, & the dust
them that dwel in it with silence, and the cellars shal render the soules
that are commended to them.  33 And the Highest shal be reueled vpon the
seate of iudgement, and miseries shal passe, and long sufferance shal be
gathered together.  34 And iudgement onlie shal remayne, truth shal
stand, and fayth shal waxe strong, 35 and the worke shal folow, and the
reward shal be shewed, and iustice shal awake, and iniustice shal not
haue dominion.  [See note below.]  36 And I sayd:  First Abraham prayed
for the Sodomites, and Moyses for the fathers that sinned in the desert.
(Gen 18 / Ex 32)  37 And they that were after him for Isreal in the dayes
of Achaz, and of Samuel, 38 and Dauid for the destruction, and Salomon
for them that came vnto the sanctification.  (2 Kings 24:17 / 2 Par 6:13)
39 And Elias for them that receiued raine, and for the dead that he might
liue, (3 Kings 17 & 18) 40 and Ezechias for the people in the dayes of
Sennacherib, and manie for manie.  (4 Kings 19:15)  41 If therfore now
when corruptible did increase, and iniustice was multiplied, and the iust
prayed for the impious:  why now also shal it not be so?  42 And he
answered me and sayd:  This present world is not the end, much glorie
remaineth in it:  for this cause they prayed for the impotent.  43 For
the day of iudgement shal be the end of this time, and the beginning of
the immortalitie to come, wherein corruption is past:  44 intemperance is
dissolued, incredulitie is cut of:  and iustice hath increased, truth is
strong.  45 For then no man can saue him that hath perished, nor drowne
him that hath ouercome.  And I answered, 46 and sayd:  This is my word
the first and the last, that it had bene better not to geue the earth to
Adam, or when he had now geuen it, to restraine him that he should not
sinne.  47 For what doth it profit men presently to liue in sorow, and
being dead to hope for punishment?  48 O what hast thou done Adam?  For
if thou didst sinne, it was not made thy fal only, but ours also which
came of thee.  (Rom 5:12)  49 For what doth it profit vs if immortal time
be promised to vs:  but we haue done mortal workes?  50 And that
euerlasting hope is foretold vs:  but we most wicked are become vayne?
51 And that habitations of health and securitie are reserued for vs, but
we haue conuerst naughtely?  52 And that the glorie of the Highest is
reserued to protect them that haue slowly conuerst:  but we haue walked
in most wicked wayes.  53 And that paradise shal be shewed, whose fruite
continueth incorrupted, wherin is securitie and remedie:  54 but we shal
not enter in:  for we haue conuerst in vnlawful places.  55 And their
faces which haue had abstinence, shal shyne aboue the starres:  but our
faces blacke aboue darkenes.  56 For we did not thinke liuing when we
did iniquitie, that we shal beginne after death to suffer.  57 And he
answered, and sayd:  This is the cogitation of the battel which man shal
fight, who is borne vpon the earth, 58 that if he shal be ouercome, he
suffer that which thou hast sayd:  but if he ouercome he shal receiue
that which I say:  59 for this is the life which Moyses spake of when he
liued, to the people, saying:  Choose vnto thee life, that thou mayst
liue.  (Deut 30:19)  60 But they beleued him not, no nor the Prophetes
after him, no nor me which haue spoken to them.  61 Because there should
not be sorow vnto their perdition, as there shal be ioy vpon them, to
whom saluation is perswaded.  62 And I answered, and sayd:  I know Lord,
that the Highest is called merciful in that, that he hath mercie on them
which are not yet come into the world, 63 and that he hath mercie on them
which conuerse in his law:  64 and he is long suffering, because he
sheweth long sufferance to them that haue sinned, as it were with their
owne workes:  65 and he is bountiful, because he wil geue according to
exigentes:  66 and of freat mercie, because he multiplieth more mercies
to them that are present, and that are past, and that are to come.
67 For if he shal not multiplie his mercies, the world shal not be made
aliue with them that did inherite it.  68 And he geueth:  for if he shal
not geue of his bountie, that they may be releeued which haue done
iniquitie, the tenth thousand part of men can not be quickned from their
iniquities.  69 And the iudge if he shal not forgeue them that are cured
with his word, and wype away a multitude of contentions:  there should
not perhaps be leaft in an innumerable multitiude, but very few.
God is merciful in this world, yet fewe are saued.  6. Gods workes, and
disposition of his creatures are meruelous.  15. Esdras prayeth for the
people of Israel:  37. and saluation is promised to the iust, and
punishment threatned to the wicked.
AND he answered me, & sayd:  This world the Highest made for manie, but
that to come for few.  2 And I wil speake a similitude Esdras before
thee.  For as thou shalt aske the earth, and it wil tel thee, that it wil
geue much more earth wherof earthen worke may be made, but a litle dust
wherof gold is made:  so also is the act of this present world.  3 Manie
in deede are created, but few shal be saued.  (Matt 20:16)  4 And I
answered, and sayd:  Then o soul swallow vp the sense, and deuoure that
which is wise.  5 For thou art agred to obey, and willing to prophecie.
For there is no space geuen thee but only to liue.  6 O Lord if thou wilt
not permitte thy seruant, that we pray before thee, and thou geue vs
seede to the hart, and tillage to the vnderstanding, wherof may the
fruite be made, wherby euerie corrupt person may liue, that shal beare
the place of a man?  7 For thou art alone, and we are one workmanshippe
of thy handes, as thou hast spoken:  8 and as now the bodie made in the
matrice, and thou doest geue the members, thy creature is preserued in
fire & water:  and nine monethes thy workemanship doth suffer thy
creature that is created in it:  9 and it self that keepeth, and that
which is kept, both shal be preserued:  and the matrice being preserued
rendreth agayne at some time the thinges that are growen in it.  10 For
thou hast commanded of the members, that is the brestes to geue milke
vnto the fruite of the brestes, 11 that the thing which is made, may be
nourished til a certayne time, and afterward thou mayst dispose him to
thy mercie.  12 For thou hast, brought him vp in thy iustice, and hast
instructed him in thy law, and hast corrected him in thy vnderstanding:
13 and thou shalt mortifie him, as thy creature:  and shalt geue him
life, as thy worke.  14 If then thou wilt destroy him that is made with
so great labours:  it is easie by thy commandment to be ordayned, that
also which was made, might be preserued.  15 And now Lord I wil speake,
of euerie man thou rather knowest:  but concerning thy people, for which
I am sorowful:  16 and concerning thine inheritance, for which I mourne,
and for Israel for whom I am pensiue, and concerning Iacob, for whom I am
sorowful.  17 Therfore wil I begin to pray before thee for me, & for
them:  because I see our defaultes that inhabite the earth.  18 But I
haue heard of the celeritie of the iudge that shal be.  19 Therfore heare
my voyce, and vnderstand my word, and I wil speake before thee.  20 The
beginning of the wordes of Esdras before he was assumpted:  and I sayd:
Lord which inhabitest the world, whose eyes are eleuated vnto thinges on
high and in the ayre:  21 and whose throne is inestimable, and glorie
incomprehensible:  by whom standeth an host of Angels with trembling,
22 whose keping is turned in wynde and fire, thou whose word is true, and
sayings premanent:  23 whose commandment is strong, and disposition
terrible:  whose looke dryeth vp the depthes, and indignation maketh the
mountaynes to melt, and truth doth testifie.  24 Heare the prayer of thy
seruant, & with thine eares receiue the petition of thy creature.  25 For
whiles I liue, I wil speake:  and whiles I vnderstand, I wil answere:
26 Neither doe thou respect the sinnes of thy people, but them that serue
thee in truth.  27 Neither doe thou attend the impious endeuours of the
nations, but them that with sorowes haue kept thy testimonies.
28 Neither thinke thou of them that in thy sight haue conuerst falsly,
but remember them that according to thy wil haue knowen thy feare.
29 Neither be thou willing to destroy them that haue had the maners of
beastes:  but respect them that haue taught thy law gloriously.
30 Neither haue indignation towards them, which are iudged worse then
beastes:  but loue them that alwayes haue confidence in thy iustice, and
glorie.  31 Because we and our fatheres languish with such diseases:  but
thou for sinners shalt be called merciful.  32 For if thou shalt be
desirous to haue mercie on vs, then thou shalt be called merciful, to vs
hauing no workes of iustice.  33 For the iust which haue manie workes
layd vp, of their owne workes shal receiue reward.  34 For what is man,
that thou art angrie with him:  or the corruptible kinde, that thou art
so bitter touching it?  35 For in truth there is no man of them that be
borne, which hath not done impiously, and of them that confesse, which
haue not sinned.  (3 Kings 8:46 / 2 Par 6:36)  36 For in this shal thy
iustice be declared, and thy goodnes, o Lord, when thou shalt haue mercie
on them, that haue no substance of good workes.  37 And he answered me,
and sayd:  Thou hast spoken somethinges rightly:  and according to thy
wordes, so also shal it be done, 38 because I wil not in dede thinke vpon
the worke of them that haue sinned before death, before the iudgement,
before perdition:  39 but I wil reioyce vpon the creature of the iust,
and I wil remember their pilgrimage also, and saluation, and receiuing of
reward.  40 Therfore as I haue spoken, so also it is.  41 For as the
husbandman soweth vpon the ground manie seedes, and planteth manie
plantes, but not al which were sowen in time, are preserued, nor yet al
that were planted, shal take roote:  so they also that are sowen in the
world, shal not al be saued.  (Matt 13 & 20)  42 And I answered, and
sayd:  If I haue found grace, let me speake.  43 As the seede of the
husbandman, if it come not vp, or receiue not the rayne in time, if it be
corupted with much rayne, perisheth:  44 so likewise also man who made
with thy handes, and thou named his image:  because thou art likened to
him, for whom thou hast made al thinges, and hast likened him to the
seede of the husbandman.  45 Be not angrie vpon vs, but spare thy people,
and haue mercie on thy inheritance.  And thou hast mercie on thy
creature.  46 And he answered me, and sayd:  The thinges that are present
to them that are present, and that shal be, to them that shal be.  47 For
thou lackest much to be able to loue my creature aboue me:  and to thee
often times, euen to thyselfe I haue approched, but to the vniust neuer.
48 But in this also thou art meruelous before the Highest, 49 because
thou hast humbled thyself as becometh thee:  & hast not iudged thyself,
that among the iust thou maist be very much glorified.  50 For which
cause manie miseries, and miserable thinges shal be done to them that
inhabite the world in the later dayes:  because they haue walked in much 
pride.  51 But thou for thyselfe vnderstand, & for them that are like
vnto thee seeke glorie.  52 For to you paradise is open, the tree of life
is planted, time to come is prepared, abundance is prepared, a citie is
builded, rest is approued, goodnes is perfited, & perfit wisdome.  53 The
roote of euil is signed from you:  infirmitie, and mothe is hid from you:
& corruption is fled into hel in obliuion.  54 Sorowes are past, & the
treasure of immortalitie is shewed in the end.  55 Adde not therfore
inquiring of the multitude of them that perish.  56 For they also
receiuing libertie, haue despised the Highest, and contemned his lawe,
and forsaken his wayes.  57 Yea and moreouer they haue troden downe his
iust ones, 58 and haue sayd in their hart, that there is no God:  and
that, knowing that they dye.  (Ps 13 & 52)  59 For as the thinges
aforesayd shal receiue you:  so thirst and torment, which are prepared
shal take them:  for he would not man to be destroyed.  60 But they them
selues also which are created, haue defyled his name which made them:  &
haue bene vnkind to him that prepared life.  61 Wherfore my iudgement now
approcheth.  62 Which thinges I haue not shewed to al, but to thee, & to
few like vnto thee.  And I answered, and sayd:  63 Behold now Lord thou
hast shewed me a multitude of signes, which thou wilt beginne to doe in
the latter times:  but thou hast not shewed me at what time.
Certaine signes shal goe before the day of iudgement.  14. More shal
perish then be saued.  25. Prayer with other good workes, are meanes to
AND he answered me, and sayd:  Measuring measure thou the time in it
selfe:  and it shal be when thou seest, after a certaine part of the
signes which are spoken of before shal passe, 2 then shalt thou
vnderstand, that the same is the time wherin the Highest wil beginne to
visite the world that was made by him.  3 And when there shal be sene in
the world mouing of places, and truble of peoples, 4 then shalt thou
vnderstand, that of these spake the Highest, from the dayes that were
before thee, from the beginning.  5 For as al that is made in the world
hath a beginning, and also a consummation, and the consummation is
manifest:  6 so also the times of the Highest haue the beginning manifest
in wonders and powers, and the consummations in worke and in signes.
7 And it shal be, euery one that shal be saued, and that can escape by
his workes, and by fayth, in which you haue beleeued, 8 shal be leaft out
of the foresayd dangers, and shal see my saluation in my land, and in my
costes, because I haue sancitifed my selfe from the world.  9 And then
shal they be in miserie, that now haue abused my wayes:  and they that
haue reiected them in contempt, shal abide in torments.  10 For they that
knew not me, hauing obtained benefits when they liued:  11 and they that
loathed my law, when they yet had libertie, 12 and when as yet place of
penance was open to them vnderstoode not, but despised:  they must after
death in torment know it.  13 Thou therfore be not yet curious, how the
impious shal be tormented:  but inquire how the iust shal be saued, and
whose the world is, and for whom the world is, and when.  14 And I
answered, and sayd:  15 I haue spoken hertofore, and now I say, and
hereafter wil say:  that they are more which perish then that shal be
saued:  (Matt 10)  16 as a floud is multiplied aboue, more then a droppe.
17 And he ansvvered me, and sayd:  Like as the field so also the sedes:
and as the flovvers, such also the colours:  and as the workeman, such
also the worke:  and such as the husbandman, such is the husbandrie:
because it was the time of the world.  18 And now when I was preparing
for them, for these that now are before the world was made, wherin they
should dwel:  and no man gaynsayd me.  19 For then euery man, and now the
creator in this world prepared, and haruest not fayling, and law
vnsearchable their manners are corrupted.  20 And I considered the world,
and behold there was danger because of the cogitations that came in it.
21 And I saw, and spared it very much:  and I kept vnto my selfe a grape
kernel of a cluster, and a plant of a great trybe.  22 Let the multitude
therfore perish, which was borne without cause, and let my kernel be
kept, & my plant:  because I finished it with much labour.  23 And thou
if thou adde yet seuen other dayes, but thou shalt not fast in them,
24 thou shalt goe into a field of flowers, where no house is built:  &
thou shalt eate only of the flowers of the field, and flesh thou shalt
not tast, and wine thou shalt not drinke, but only flowers.  25 Pray to
the Highest without intermission, and I wil come, and wil speake with
thee.  26 And I went forth, as he sayd to me, into a field which is
called Ardath, and I sate there among the flowers.  And I did eate of the
herbes of the field, and the meate of them made me ful.  27 And it came
to passe after seuen dayes, and I sate downe vpon the grasse, and my hart
was trubled ayayne as before.  28 And my mouth was opened, and I beganne
to speake before the Highest, and sayd:  29 O Lord thou shewing thy selfe
to vs, wast shewed to our fathers in the desert, which is not troden, and
vnfruitful, when they came out of AEgypt:  and saying thou saydst:
(Ex 19 & 24 / Deut 4)  30 Thou Israel heare me, and sede of Iacob attend
to my wordes.  31 For behold, I sow my lawe in you, and it shal bring
forth fruite in you, and you shal be glorified in it for euer.  32 For
our fathers receiuing the law obserued it not, and kept not my
ordinances, and the fruite of the law did not appeare:  for it could not,
because it was thine.  33 For they that receiued it, perished, not
keeping that which had bene sowen in them.  (Ex 32)  34 And behold it is
the custome, that when the earth hath receiued sede, or the sea a shippe,
or some vessel meate or drinke:  when that shal be destroyed wherin it
was sowne, or into the which it was cast:  35 that which was sowne, or
cast in, or the thinges that were receiued, are destroyed withal, and the
thinges receiued now tarye not with vs:  but it is not so done to vs.
36 We in dede that receiued the law, sinning haue perished, and our hart
that receiued it:  37 For the law hath not perished, but hath remayned in
his labour.  (Ezech 48)  38 And when I spake these thinges in my hart, I
looked backe with myne eyes, and saw a woman on the right side, and
behold she mourned, and wept with a lowd voice, and was sorrowful in
mynde exceedingly, and her garments rent, and ashes vpon her heade.
39 And I left the cogitations, wherin I was thinking, and I turned to her
and sayd to her:  40 Why weepest thou?  and why art thou sorie in mynde.
And she sayd to me:  41 Suffer me my Lord, that I may lament myselfe, &
adde sorrow:  because I am of a very pensiue mynde, and am humbled
exceedingly.  42 And I sayd to her, What ayleth thee:  tel me.  And she
sayd to me:  43 I thy seruant haue beene barren, and haue not borne
childe, hauing a husband thirty yeares.  44 For I euery howre, and euerie
day, and these thirty yeares do beseche the Highest night and day.
45 And it came to passe, after thirtie yeares God heard me thy handmayd,
and saw my humilitie, and attended to my tribulation, and gaue me a
sonne:  and I was very ioyful vpon him, and my husband, and al my
citizens, and we did glorifie the Strong exceedingly.  46 And I nourished
him with much labour.  47 And it came to passe when he was growen, and
came to take a wife, I made a feast day.
The state of Ierusalem is prefigured by a woman mourning, 25. and
afterwardes reioycing.
AND it came to passe, when my sonne was entred into his inner chamber, he
fel downe, and dyed:  2 and we al ouerthrewe the lights, and al my
citizens rose vp to comfort me, and I was quiet vntil the other day at
night.  3 And it came to passe, when al were quiet to comfort me, that I
might be quiet:  and I arose in the night, and fled:  and came as thou
seest into this field.  4 And I meane nowe not to returne into the citie,
but to stay here:  and neither eate, nor drinke, but without intermission
to mourne, and to fast vntil I dye.  5 And I left the talke wherin I was,
and with anger answered her, & sayd:  6 Thou foole aboue al wemen, seest
thou not our mourning, & what thinges chance to vs?  7 Because Sion our
mother is sorroweful with al sorrowe, and humbled, and mourneth most
bitterly.  8 And now wheras we al mourne, and are sadde:  wheras we are
sorrowful, and art thou sorrowful for one sonne?  9 For aske the earth,
and it wil tel thee:  that it is she, that ought to lament the fal of so
manie thinges that spring vpon it.  10 And of her were al borne from the
beginning, and others shal come:  and behold, almost al walke into
perdition, and the multitude of them commeth to destruction.  11 And who
then ought to mourne more, but she that hath lost so great a multitude,
rather then thou which art sorie for one?  12 And if thou say vnto me,
that my mourning is not lyke the earthes:  because I haue lost the fruite
of my wombe, which I bare with sorrowes, and brought forth with paynes:
13 but the earth according to the maner of the earth, and the present
multitude in it hath departed as it came:  and I saye to thee, 14 as thou
hast brought forth with payne, so the earth also geueth her fruite for
man from the beginning to him that made her.  15 Now therfore kepe in
with thy sorrowe, and beare stoutly the chances that haue befallen thee.
16 For if thou iustifie the end of God, thou shalt in time both receiue
his counsel, and also in such thinges thou shalt be praysed.  17 Goe in
therfore into the citie to thy husband.  And she sayd to me:  18 I wil
not doe it, neither wil I enter into the citie, but here wil I dye.
19 And I added yet to speake to her, & sayd:  20 Doe not this word, but
consent to him that counseleth thee.  For how manie are the chances of
Sion?  Take comfort for the sorrowe of Ierusalem.  21 For thou seest that
our sanctification is made desert, and our altar is throwen downe, and
our temple is destroyed, 22 and our psalter is humbled, and hymne is
silent, and our exultation is dissolued, and the light of our
candelsticke is extinguished, and the arke of our testament is taken for
spoyle, & our holie thinges are contaminated, and the name that is
inuocated vpon vs, is almost prophaned:  and our children haue suffred
contumelie, and our Priestes are burnt, & our Leuites are gone into
captiuitie, & our virgins are defloured, and our wiues haue suffered
rape, and our iust men are violently taken, and our litle ones are lost,
and our yong men are in bondage, and our valiants are made impotent:
23 and that which is greatest of al, the seale of Sion, because she is
vnsealed of her glorie:  For she is also deliuered into the handes of
them that hate vs.  24 Thou therfore shake of thy great heauines, and lay
away from thee the multitude of sorrowes, that the Strong may be
propicious to thee agayne, and the Highest wil geue thee rest, rest from
thy labours.  25 And it came to passe, when I spake to her, her face did
shine suddenly, and her shape, and her visage was made glistering, so
that I was afrayde excedingly at her, & thought what this thing should
be.  26 And Behold, suddenly she put forth a great sound of a voyce ful
of feare, that the earth was moued at the womans sound.  And I saw:
27 and behold, the woman did no more appeare vnto me, but a citie was
built, & a place was shewed of great fundations:  and I was afrayd, &
crying with a loude voyce I sayd:  28 Where is Vriel the Angel, that from
the beginning came to me?  for he made me come in multitude in excesse of
this minde, and my end is made into corruption, & my prayer into reproch.
29 And when I was speaking these thinges, behold he came to me, and sawe
me.  30 And behold I was layd as dead, & my vnderstanding was alienated,
and he held my right hand, and strengthned me, & set me vpon my feete, &
sayd to me:  31 What ayleth thee?  and why is thy vnderstanding, and the
sense of thy hart trubled, & why art thou trubled?  And I sayd:
32 Because thou hast forsaken me, and I in dede haue done according to
thy wordes, & went out into the field:  & behold, I haue seene, & doe see
that which I cannot vtter.  And he sayd to me:  33 Stand like a man, & I
wil moue thee.  And I sayd:  34 Speake thou my Lord in me, forsake me
not, that I die not in vaine:  35 because I haue seene thinges that I
knew not, & I doe heare thinges that I know not.  36 Or is my sense
deceiued, & doth my soule dreame?  37 Now therfore I besech thee, that
thou shew vnto thy seruant concerning this trance.  And he answered me, &
sayd:  38 Heare me, and I wil teach thee, and wil tel thee of what
thinges thou art afrayd:  because the Highest hath reuealed vnto thee
manie mysteries.  39 He hath seene thy right way, that without
intermission thou was forrowful for thy people, and didst mourne
exceedingly for Sion.  40 This therfore is the vnderstanding of the
vision which appeared to thee a litle before.  41 The woman whom thou
sawest mourning, thou beganst to comfort her.  42 And now thou seest not
the forme of the woman, but there appeared to thee a citie to be built.
43 And because she tolde thee of the fal of her sonne, this is the
interpretation.  44 This woman which thou sawest, she is Sion, and wheras
she told thee of her, whom now also thou shalt see, as a citie builded.
45 And whereas she told thee, that she was barren thirtie yeares:  for
the which there were thirtie yeares, when there was not yet oblation
offered in it.  46 And it came to passe after thirtie yeares, Salomon
built the citie, and offered oblations:  then it was, when the barren
bare a childe.  47 And that which she sayd vnto thee, that she nourished
him with labour, this was the habitation in Ierusalem.  48 And wheras she
sayd to thee, that my sonne comming into the bryde chamber dyed, and that
a fal chanced vnto him, this was the ruine of Ierusalem that is made.
49 And behold, thou hast seene the similitude of her:  and because she
lamented her sonne, thou beganst to comfort her:  and of these thinges
that haue chanced, these were to be opened to thee.  50 And now the
Highest seeth that thou wast sorie from the hart:  and because with thy
whole hart thou sufferest for her, he hath shewed thee the clearnes of
her glorie, and the fayrenes of her beautie.  51 For therfore did he say
to thee, that thou shouldest tarie in a field where house is not built.
52 For I knew that the Highest beganne to shew thee these thinges:
53 therfore I sayd vnto thee, that thou shouldest goe into a field, where
is no fundation of building.  54 For the worke of mans building could not
be borne in the place, where the citie of the Highest began to be shewed.
55 Thou therfore feare not, neither let thy hart dread:  but goe in, and
see the beautie, and greatnes of the building, as much as the sight of
thyne eyes is capable to see:  56 & afterward thou shalt heare as much,
as the hearing of thyne eares is capable to heare.  57 For thou art
blessed aboue manie, and art called with the Highest as few.  58 And to
morrow night thou shalt tarie here:  59 and the Highest wil shew thee
those visions of the thinges on high, which the Highest wil doe to them
that inhabite vpon the earth in the later dayes.  60 And I slept that
night, and the other next, as he had sayd to me.
An eagle appeareth to Esdras coming forth of the sea, with three heades,
and twelue winges:  sometimes one reigning in the world, sometimes an
other, but euerie one vanisheth away.  36. A lion also appeareth coming
forth of the wood, to suppresse the eagle.
AND I sawe a dreame, & behold an eagle came vp out of the sea:  which had
twelue winges of fethers, and three heades.  2 And I saw, and behold she
spred her winges into al the earth, and al the windes of heauen blew vpon
her, and were gathered together.  3 And I saw, and of her fethers sprang
contrarie feathers, and they became litle winges, and smale.  4 For her
heades were at rest, and the midle head was greater then the other
heades, but she rested with them.  5 And I saw, and behold the eagle flew
with her winges, and reigned ouer the earth, and ouer them that dwel in
it.  6 And I saw, that al thinges vnder heauen were subiect to her, and
no man gaynesayd her, no not one of the creature that is vpon the earth.
7 And I saw, and behold the eagle rose vp vpon her talons, and made a
voice with her winges, saying:  8 Watch not al together, sleepe euerie
one in his place, & watch according to time.  9 But let the heades be
preserued to the last.  10 And I saw, and behold the voice came not out
of her heades, but from the middes of her bodie.  11 And I numbered her
contrarie winges, and behold they were eight.  12 And I saw, and behold
on the right side rose one wing, and reighned ouer al the earth.  13 And
it came to passe, when it reigned, an end came to it, and the place
therof appeared not:  and the next rose vp, & reigned, that held much
time.  14 And it came to passe, when it reigned, & the end of it also
came, that it appeared not as the former.  15 And behold, a voice was
sent forth to it, saying:  16 Heare thou that hast held the earth of long
time.  Thus I tel thee before thou beginne not to appeare.  17 None after
thee shal hold thy time, no nor the halfe therof.  18 And the third
lifted vp it selfe, and held the principalitie as also the former:  and
that also appeared not.  19 And so it chanced to al the other by one & by
one to haue the principalitie, & agayne to appeare nowhere.  20 And I
saw, and behold in time the rest of the winges were sent vp on the right
side, that they also might hold the principalitie:  and of them there
were that held it, but yet forthwith they appeared not.  21 For some also
of them stoode vp, but they held not the principalitie.  22 And I saw
after these thinges, and behold the twelue winges, and two litle winges
appeared not:  23 and nothing remayned in the bodie of the eagle but two
heades resting, and six litle winges.  24 And I saw, and behold from the
six litle winges two were diuided, and they remayned vnder the head, that
is on the right side.  For foure taried in their place.  25 And I saw,
and behold the vnderwinges thought to set vp them selues, and to hold the
principalities.  26 And I saw, and behold one was set vp, but forthwith
it appeared not.  27 And they that were second did sooner vanish away
then the former.  28 And I saw, and behold the two that remayned, thought
with them selues that they also would reigne:  29 and when they were
thincking thereon, behold one of the resting heades, which was the midde
one awaked, for this was greater then the other two heades.  30 And I saw
that the two heades were complete with themselues.  31 And behold the
head with them that were with him turned, and did eate the two
vnderwinges that thought to reigne.  32 And this head terrified al the
earth, & ruled in it ouer them that inhabite the earth with much labour,
and he that held the dominion of the whole world aboue al the winges that
were.  33 And I saw after these thinges, and behold the midle head
sodenly appeared not, as did the winges.  34 And there remained two
heads, which reigned also themselues ouer the earth, and ouer them that
dwelt therein.  35 And I saw, and behold the head on the right side
deuoured that which was on the left.  36 And I heard a voice saying to
me, Looke against thee, and consider what thou seest.  37 And I saw, &
behold as a lion raysed out of the wood roaring:  and I saw that he sent
out a mans voyce to the eagle.  And he spake saying.  38 Heare thou, and
I wil speake to thee, and the Highest wil say to thee:  39 Is it not thou
that hast ouercome of the foure beastes, which I made to reigne in my
world, and that by them the end of their times might come?  40 And the
fourth coming ouercame al the beastes that were past, and by might held
the world with much feare, and al the world with most wicked laboure, and
he inhabitied the whole earth so long time with deceipte.  41 And thou
hast iudged the earth not with truth.  42 For thou hast afflicted the
meeke, and hast trubled them that were quiet, and hast loued lyers, &
hast destroyed their habitations that did fructifie, and hast ouerthrowen
their walles that did not hurt thee.  43 And thy contumelie is ascended
euen to the Highest, and thy pride to the Strong.  44 And the Highest
hath looked vpon the proud times:  and behold they are ended, and the
abominations therof are accomplished.  45 Therfore thou eagle appeare no
more, and thy horrible winges, & thy litle winges most wicked, and thy
heades malignant, and thy talons most wicked, and al thy bodie vayne,
46 that al the earth may be refreshed, and may returne deliuered from thy
violence, and may hope for his iudgement, and mercie that made it.
The eagle vanisheth away, 5. Esdras prayeth, 10. and the former visions
are declared to him.
AND it came to passe, whiles the lyon spake these wordes to the eagle:  I
saw, 2 and behold the head that had ouercome, and those foure winges
appeared not which passed to him, and were set vp to reigne:  and their
reigne was smal, and ful of tumult.  3 And I saw, and behold they
appeared not, and al the bodie of the eagle was burnt, & the earth was
afrayd excedingly, and I by the tumult and traunce of minde, and for
great feare awaked, and sayd to my spirit:  4 Behold thou hast geuen me
this, in that, that thou searchest the wayes of the Highest.  5 Behold
yet I am wearie in minde, and in my spirit I am very feeble, and there is
not so much as a litle strength in me for the great feare, that I was
afrayd of this night.  6 Now therfore I wil pray the Highest, that he
strengthen me euen to the end.  7 And I sayd:  Lord Dominatour, if I haue
found grace before thine eyes, and if I am iustified before thee aboue
manie, and if in deede my prayer be ascended before thy face,
8 strengthen me, and shew vnto me thy seruant the interpretation, and
distinction of this horrible vision, that thou mayst comfort my soule
most fully.  9 For thou hast counted me worthie to shew vnto me the later
times.  And he sayd to me:  10 This is the interpretation of this vision.
11 The eagle which thou sawest coming vp from the sea, this is the
kingdom which was sene in a vision to Daniel thy brother.  (Dan 7:7)
12 But it was not interpreted to him, therfore I do now interprete it to
thee.  13 Behold the dayes come, and there shal rise a kingdon vpon the
earth, and the feare shal be more terrible then of al the kingdomes that
were before it.  14 And there shal twelue kinges reigne in it, one after
an other.  15 For the second shal beginne to reigne, and he shal continew
more time then the rest of the twelue.  16 This is the interpretation of
the twelue winges which thou sawest.  17 And the voice that spake which
thou heardst, not coming forth of her heads, but from the middes of her
bodie, 18 this is the interpretation, that after the time of that kingdom
shal rise no smal contentions, and it shal be in danger to fal:  and it
shal not fal then, but shal be constituted againe according to the
beginning therof.  19 And wheras thou sawest eight vnderwings cleauing to
the wings therof, 20 this is the interpretation, eight kinges shal arise
in it, whose times shal be light, and yeares swift, and two of them shal
perish.  21 But when the middest time approcheth, foure shal be kept til
a time, when the time therof shal beginne to approch to be ended, yet two
shal be kept to the end.  22 And wheras thou sawest three heads resting,
23 this is the interpretation:  in her last dayes the Highest wil rayse
vp three kingdoms, and wil cal backe manie thinges into them, and they
shal rule ouer the earth, 24 and them that dwel in it, with much labour 
aboue al them that vvere before them.  For this cause they are called the
heads of the eagle.  25 For these shal be they that shal recapitulate her
impieties, and that shal accomplish her last thinges.  26 And wheras thou
sawest a greater head not appearing, this is the interpretation therof:
that one of them shal dye vpon his bed, and yet with torments.  27 For
the two that shal remayne, the sword shal eate them.  28 For the sword of
one shal deuoure him that is with him:  but yet this also at the last
shal fal by the sword.  29 And wheras thou sawest two vnderwings passing
ouer the head that is on the right side, 30 this is the interpretation:
these are they whom the Highest hath kept to their end, this is a smal
kingdom, and ful of truble.  31 As thou sawest the lyon also, whom thou
sawest awaking out of the wood, and roaring, and speaking to the eagle,
and rebuking her, and her iniustices by al his wordes as thou hast heard:
32 this is the wynde which the Highest hath kept vnto the end for them,
and their impieties:  and he shal rebuke them, and shal cast in their
spoyles before them.  33 For he shal sette them in iudgment aliue:  and
it shal be, when he hath reproued them, then shal he chastise them.
34 For the rest of my people he shal deliuer with miserie, them that are
saued vpon my borders, and he shal make them ioyful til the end shal
come, the day of iudgment, wherof I haue spoken to thee from the
beginning.  35 This is the dreame which thou sawest, and these be the
interpretations.  36 Thou therfore only hast bene worthie to know this
secrete of the Highest.  37 Write therfore in a booke al these thinges
which thou hast sene, and put them in a hidden place:  38 and thou shalt
teach them the wise men of thy people, whose harts thou knowest able to
take, and to kepe these secretes.  39 But doe thou stay here yet other
seuen dayes, that there may be shewed thee whatsoeuer shal seme good to
the Highest to shew thee.  40 And he departed from me.  And it came to
passe, when al the people had heard that the seuen dayes were past, and I
had not returned into the citie, and al gathered them selues together
from the least vnto the greatest:  & came to me, & spake to me saying:
41 What haue we sinned to thee, or what haue we done vniustly against
thee, that leauing vs thou hast sitten in this place?  42 For thou alone
art remayning to vs of al peoples, as a cluster of grapes of the
vineyard, and as a candle in a darke place, and as an hauen and shippe
saued from the tempest.  43 Or are not the euiles that chance, sufficient
for vs?  44 If then thou shalt forsake vs, how much better had it bene to
vs, if we also had bene burnt with the burning of Sion?  45 For we are
not better then they that dyed there.  And they wept with a lowd voice.
And I answered them, and sayd:  46 Be of good chere Israel, and be not
sorowful thou house of Iacob.  47 For there is remebrance of you before
the Highest, and the Strong hath not forgotten you in tentation.  48 For
I haue not forsaken you, neither did I depart form you:  but I came into
this place, to pray for the desolation of Sion, and to seeke mercie for
the low estate of your sanctification.  49 And now goe euery one of you
into his house, and I wil come to you after these dayes.  50 And the
people departed, as I sayd to them, into the citie:  51 but I sate in the
fielde seuen dayes, as he commanded me:  and I did eate of the flowers of
the field only, of the herbes was my meate made in those dayes.
A vision of a winde (as it first semed, but) in dede, v. 3. of a man:
5. strong against the enimies:  21. with the interpretation.
AND it came to passe after seuen dayse, and I dreamed a dreame in the
night.  2 And behold there rose a winde from the sea, that trubled al the
waues therof.  3 And I saw, and behold that man grew strong with
thousandes of heauen:  and when he turned his countenance to consider, al
thinges trembled that were sene vnder him:  4 and whersoeuer voyce
proceded out of his mouth, al that heard his voices begane to burne, as
the earth is quiet when it feeleth the fire.  5 And I saw after these,
and behold a multitude of men was gathered together, of whom there was no
number, from the foure windes of heauen, to fight against the man that
was come vp out of the sea.  6 And I saw, and behold he had grauen to
himself a great mountaine, & he flew vpon it.  7 And I sought to see the
countrie, or the place whence the mountaine was grauen, & I could not.
8 And after these thinges I saw, and behold al that were gathered to him,
to ouerthrowe him, feared exceedingly, yet they were bold to fieght.
9 And behold as he sawe the violence of the multitude that came, he
lifted not vp his hand, nor held sword, nor anie warlyke instrument but
only as I saw, 10 that he sent forth out of his mouth as it were a blaste
of fire, and from his lippes a spirit of flame, & from his tongue he
sentforth sparkles & tempests, and al thinges were mingled together with
this blast of fire, & spirit of flame, & multitude of tempests.  11 And
it fel with violence vpon the multitude, that was prepared to fight, and
burned them al, that suddenly there was nothing sene of an innumerable
multitude, but only dust, & the sauour of smoke:  and I saw, and was
afrayd.  12 And after these thinges I saw the man himself descending from
the mountaine, and calling to him an other peaceable multitude, 13 and
there came to him the countenance of manie men some reioycing, and some
sorrowing:  and some bond, some bringing of them them that were offered.
And I was sicke for much feare, and awaked, and sayd.  14 Thou from the
beginning hast shewed thy seruant these meruelous thinges, and hast
counted me worthie that thou wouldest receiue my petition.  15 And now
shew me yet the interpretation of this dreame.  16 For as I thinke in my
iudgement, woe to them that were leaft in those dayes:  & much more woe
to them that were not leaft.  17 For they that were not leaft, were
sorrowful.  18 I vnderstand now what thinges are layde vp in the later
dayes, and they shal happen to them, yea and to them that are leaft.
19 For therefore they came into great dangers, and manie necessities, as
these dreames do shew.  20 But yet it is easier, aduenturing to come into
it, then to passe, as a cloud from the world, and vow to see the thinges
that happen in the later time.  And he answered me, and sayd:  21 Both
the interpretation of the vision I wil tel thee:  and also concerning the
thinges that thou hast spoken I wil open to thee.  22 Wheras thou
speakest of them that were leaft, this is the interpretation.  23 He that
taketh away danger at that time, he hath garded himself.  They that haue
fallen into danger, these are they that haue workes, and fayth in the
Strongest.  24 Know therefore that they are more blessed which are leaft,
then they that are dead.  25 These are the interpretations of the vision,
wheras thou sawest a man coming from the hart of the sea, 26 the same is
he whom the Highest preserueth much time, which by himself shal deliuer
his creature:  and he shal dispose them that are leaft.  27 And wheras
thou sawest proceede out of his mouth, as it were winde, and fire, and
tempest:  28 and wheras he held no sworde, nor warlike instrument:  for
his violence destroyed the multitude that came to ouerthrow him:  this is
the interpretation.  29 Behold the dayes come, when the Highest shal
begin to deliuer them, that are vpon the earth:  30 and he shal come in
excesse of minde vpon them that inhabit the earth.  31 And one shal
thinke to ouerthrow an other:  one citie an other citie, one place an
other place, and nation against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.
(Matt 24 / Luke 21)  32 And it shal be, when these thinges shal come to
passe, and the signes shal happen, which I shewed thee before:  and then
shal my sonne be reueled, whom thou sawest, as a man coming vp.  33 And
it shal be when al nations shal heare his voice:  and euery one in his
countrie shal leaue their warre, that they haue toward each other:
34 and an innumerable multitude shal be gathered in one, as willing to
come to ouerthrow him.  35 But he shal stand vpon the top of mount Sion.
36 And Sion shal come, and it shal be shewed to al prepared and builded,
as thou sawest the mountaine to be grauen without handes.  37 And the
same my sonne shal reproue the thinges that the gentils haue inuented,
these their impieties which came nere to the tempest, because of their
euil cogitaitons, and torments wherewith they shal begin to be tormented.
38 Which were likened to the flame, and he shal destroy them without
labour by the law that was likened to the fyre.  39 And wheras thou
sawest him gathering vnto him an other peaceable multitude.  40 These are
the ten tribes, which were made captiue out of their land in the dayes of
Osee the King, whom Salmanasar the King of the Assyrians led captiue:
and he transported them beyond the riuer, and they were transported into
an other land.  (4 Kings 17)  41 But they gaue themselues this counsel,
to forsake the multitude of nations, and to goe forth into a farther
countrie, where mankind neuer inhabited.  42 Or there to obserue their
ordinances, which they had not kept in their countrie.  43 And they
entred in by the narrow entrances of the riuer Euphrates.  44 For the
Highest then wrought them signes, and stayed the vaines of the riuer til
they passed.  (Ex 14 / Jos 3)  45 For by that countie was a great way to
goe, of one yeare and a half:  for the countrie is called Arsareth.
46 Then did they inhabite there til in the later time:  and now againe
when they beginne to come, 47 againe the Highest shal stay the vaines of
the riuer, that they may passe:  for these thou sawest a multitiude with
peace.  48 But they also that were leaft of the people, these are they
that be within my border.  49 In shal come to passe therefore, when he
shal begine to destroy the multitude of these nations, that are gathered,
he shal protect them that haue ouercome the people:  50 and then shal he
shew them very manie wonders.  51 And I sayd:  Lord dominatour, shew me
this, why I saw a man comming vp from the hart of the sea, and he sayd to
me:  52 As thou canst not either search these thinges, or know what
thinges are in the depth of the sea:  so can not any man vpon the earth
see my sonne, or them that are with him, but in the time of a day.
53 This is the interpretation of the dreame which thou sawest, and for
the which thou only art here illuminated.  54 For thou hast leaft thyne
owne law, and hast bene occupied about my law, and hast sought it.
55 For thou hast disposed thy lyfe in wisdom, and thyne vnderstanding
thou hast called mother:  56 and for this I haue shewed thee riches with
the Highest.  For it shal be after other three dayes, I wil speake other
thinges to thee, and I wil expound to thee weightie and meruelous
thinges.  57 And I went forth, and passed into the fielde, much
glorifying & praising the Highest for the meruelous thinges that he did
by time.  58 And because he gouerneth it, and the thinges that are
brought in times, & I sate there three dayes.
CHAP. XIIII.
God appeareth in a bush, 6. reuealing some thinges to be published, and
some thinges to be hid.  10. As the world waxeth old, al thinges become
worse.  27. The people of Israel are vngratful.  32. Al shal be iudged in
the Resurrection according to their deedes.
AND it came to passe the third day, and I sate vnder an oke.  2 And
behold a voice came forth against me out of a bush, and sayd:  Esdras,
Esdras:  and I sayd:  Loe here I am Lord.  And I arose vpon my feete.
And he sayd to me:  3 Reueling I was reueled vpon the bush, and spake to
Moyses, when the people serued in AEgypt, (Ex 3) 4 and I sent him, and
brought my people out of AEgypt, and brought him vpon mount Sina, & held
him with me manie dayes.  5 And I told him manie meruelous thinges, &
shewed him the secrets of times, and the end:  and I commanded him,
saying:  6 These wordes thou shalt publish abroade, and these thou shalt
hyde.  7 And now to thee I say:  8 The signes which I haue shewed, and
the dreames which thou hast sene, and the interpretations which thou hast
sene, lay them vp in thy hart.  9 For thou shalt be receiued of al, thou
shalt be conuerted the residue with thy counsel, and with the like to
thee, til the times be finished:  10 Because the world hath lost his
youth, and the times draw nere to waxe old.  11 For the world is diuided
by twelue partes, & the tenth part, & half of the tenth part are passed:
12 and there remaineth hereafter the half of the tenth part.  13 Now
therefore dispose thy house, and correct thy people, & comfort the humble
of them, & forsake now corruption, 14 and put from thee mortal
cogitations, and cast from thee humane burdens, and doe from thee now
infirme nature, & lay at one side cogitations most trublesome to thee, &
make speedie transmigration from these times, 15 for the euiles which
thou hast sene to haue chanced now, worse then these wil they doe againe:
(Matt 24 / 1 John 2)  16 for looke how much the world shal become weake
by age, so much shal euiles be multiplied vpon the inhabitants.  17 For
truth hath remoued it self farther of, and lying hath approched, for now
the vision which thou sawest, hasteneth to come.  18 And I answered, and
sayd before thee o Lord:  19 For behold I wil goe, as thou hast commanded
me, & wil rebuke the people that now is.  But them that shal yet be born,
who shal admonish?  20 The world therfore is set in darknes, and they
that dwel in it without light.  21 Because thy law is burnt, therefore no
man knowth the workes that haue bene done by thee, or that shal begin.
22 For if I haue found grace with thee, send the Holie Ghost to me, & I
wil write al that hath bene done in the world from the beginning, the
thinges that were written in thy law, that men may finde the pathe:  and
they that wil liue in the later times, may liue.  23 And he answered me,
and sayd:  Goe gather together the people, and thou shalt say to them,
that they seeke thee not for fourtie dayes.  24 And doe thou prepare thee
manie tables of boxe, & take with thee Sarea, Dabria, Salemia, Echanus,
and Asiel, these fiue which are readie to write sweeftly.  25 And come
hither, & I wil light in thy hart a candle of vnderstanding, which shal
not be put out til the things be finished, which thou shalt begine to
write.  26 And then some thinges thou shalt open to the perfect, some
thou shalt deliuer secretly to the wyse.  For to morrow this houre thou
shalt begine to write.  27 And I went as he commanded me, & gathered
together al the people, and sayd:  28 Heare Israel these wordes:  29 Our
fathers were pilgrimes from the beginning in AEgypt, and were deliuered
from thence.  (Gen 47)  30 And they receiued the law of life, which they
kept not, which you also after them haue transgressed:  (Deut 4 / Acts 7)
31 and the land was geuen you by lotte, and the land of Sion, and your
fathers, and you haue done iniquitie, and haue not kept the wayes which
the Highest commanded you.  32 And whereas he is a iust iudge, he hath
taken from you in time that which he had geuen.  33 And now you are here,
and your brethren are among you.  34 If then you wil rule ouer your
sense, & instruct your hart, you shal be preserued aliue, and after death
shal obtaine mercie.  35 For the iudgement shal come after death, when we
shal returne to lyfe againe:  and then the names of the iust shal
appeare, and the dedes of the impious shal be shewed.  36 Let no man
therfore come to me now, nor aske for me vntil fourtie dayes.  37 And I
tooke the fiue men, as he commandede me, and we went forth into the
field, and taried there.  38 And I was come to the morrow, & behold as
voice called me, saying:  Esdras open thy mouth, and drinke that which I
wil geue thee to drinke.  (Ezech 3)  39 And I opened my mouth, & behold a
ful cuppe was brought me, this was ful as it were with water:  but the
colour therof like as fire.  40 And I tooke it, and dranke; and when I
had drunken of it, my hart was tormented with vnderstanding, and wisdome
grewe into my brest.  For my spirit was kept by memorie.  41 And my mouth
was opened, and was shut no more.  42 The Highest gaue vnderstanding vnto
the fiue men, and they wrote excesses of the night which were spoken,
which they knewe not.  43 And at night they did eate breade, but I spake
by day, & by night held not my peace.  44 And there were written in the
fourtie dayes two hundred foure bookes.  45 And it came to passe when
they had ended the fourtie daies, the Highest spake, saying:  46 The
former thinges which thou hast written, set abrode, and let the worthie
and vnworthiereade:  but the last seuentie bookes thou shalt keepe, that
thou mayest deliuer them to the wyse of thy people.  47 For in these is
the vaine of vnderstanding, and the fountaine of wisdome, and the streame
of knowledge.  and I did soe.
Esdras is bid to denounce, that assuredly manie euiles wil come to the
world.  9. God wil protect his people, the wicked shal be punished, and
lament their final miseries, God reuenging for the good.
BEHOLD speake into the eares of my people the wordes of prophecie, which
I shal put into thy mouth, sayth our Lord:  2 and see that they be
written in paper, because they be faithful and true.  3 Be not afrayd of
the cogitations against thee, neither let the incredulities truble thee
of them that speake.  4 Because euerie incredulous person shal dye in his
incredulitie.  5 Behold I bring in, sayth our Lord, vpon the whole earth
euils, sword, and famine, and death, and destruction.  6 Because
iniquitie hath fully polluted ouer al the earth, and their hurtful workes
are accomplished.  7 Therefore sayth our Lord:  8 I wil not now kepe
silence of their impieties which they doe irreligiously, neither wil I
beare with those thinges, which they practise vniustly.  Behold the
innocent & iust bloud crieth to me, & the soules of the iust crie
continually.  9 Reuenging I wil reuenge them, sayth our Lord, and I wil
take al innocent bloud out of them vnto me.  (Apoc 6:10 & 19:2)
10 Behold my people is led to slaughter as a flocke, I wil no more suffer
it to dwel in the land of AEgypt.  11 But I wil bring them forth in a
mightie hand and valiant arme, and wil strike with plague as before, and
wil corrupt al the land thereof.  12 AEgypt shal mourne, and fundations
thereof beaten with plague, and with the chastisement which God wil bring
vpon it.  13 The husbandmen that til the ground shal mourne, because
their seedes shal perish by blasting, and haile, and by a terible starre.
14 Woe to the world and them that dwel therein.  15 Because the sword is
at hand and the destruction of them, and nation shal rise vp against
nation to fight, & sword in their handes.  (Matt 24 / Luke 21)  16 For
there shal be instabilitie to men, & growing one against an other they
shal not care for their king, & the princes of the way of their doinges,
in their might.  17 For a man shal desire to go into the citie & can not.
18 Because of their prides the cities shal be trubled, the houses raised,
the men shal feare.  19 Man shal not pitie his neighbour, to make their
houses nothing worth in the sword, to spoyle their goodes for famine of
bread, & much tribulation.  20 Behold, I cal together sayth God, al the
kinges of the earth to feare me, that are from the Orient, & from the
South, from the East, & from Libanus, to be turned vpon themselues, and
to render the thinges that they haue geuen them.  21 As they doe vntil
this day to myne elect, so wil I doe, and render in their bosome.  Thus
sayth our Lord God:  22 My right hand shal not spare sinners, neither
shal the sword cease vpon them that shede innocent bloud vpon the earth.
23 Fire came forth from his wrath, and hath deuoured the fundations of
the earth, and sinners as it were straw set on fire.  24 Woe to them that
sinne, and obserue not my comandmentes, sayth our Lord.  25 I wil not
spare them:  depart o children from the powre.  Defile not my
sanctification:  26 because the Lord knoweth al that sinne against him;
therefore hath he deliuered them into death and into slaughter.  27 For
now are euils come vpon the world, and you shal tarrie in them.  For God
wil not deliuer you, because you haue sinned against him.  28 Behold an
horrible vision, and the face of it from the east.  29 And the nations of
dragons of Arabians shal come forth in manie chariots, & as a winde the
number of them is caried vpon the earth, so that now al doe feare and
tremble, that shal heare them.  30 the Carmonians madde for anger, and
they shal goe forth as wild boares out of the wood, & they shal come with
great power, and shal stand in fight with them, & they shal waste the
portion of the land of the Assirians.  31 And after these thinges the
dragons shal preuaile mindful of their natiuitie, and conspiring shal
turne themselues in great force to pursue them.  32 These shal be trubled
and hold their peace at their force, and shal turne their fete into
flight.  33 And from the territorie of the Assirians the besiegers shal
beseige them, and shal consume one of them, and there shal be feare and
trembling in their armie, and contention against their kinges.  34 Behold
cloudes from the east, and from the north vnto the south, and their face
very horrible, ful of wrath and storme.  35 And they shal beate one
against an other, and they shal beate downe manie starres, and their
starre vpon the earth, and bloud shal be from the sword vnto the bellie.
36 And mans dung vnto the camels litter, and there shal be much feare,
and trembling vpon the earth.  37 And they shal shake that shal see that
wrath, and tremble shal take them:  and after these thinges there shal
manie showers be moued:  38 from the south, and the north:  and an other
portion from the weast.  39 And the windes from the east shal reuaile
vpon it, and shal shut it vp, and the cloudes which he raised in wrath,
and the starre to make terrour to the east winde, and the west shal be
destroyed.  40 And there shal be exalted great and mightie cloudes ful of
wrath, and a starre to terrifie al the earth, and the inhabitantes
therof, and they shal powre in vpon euerie high, and eminent place a
terrible starre, 41 fire, and haile, and flying swordes, and manie
waters, so that al fildes also shal be filled, and al riuers with the
fulnes of manie waters.  42 And they shal throw downe cities, and walles,
and mountaines, and hilles, and the trees of the woodes, and the grasse
of the medowes, and their corne.  43 And they shal passe constant vnto
Babylon, and shal raise her.  (Apoc 18)  44 They shal come together
against her, and shal compasse her, and shal power out the starre, and al
wrath vpon her, and the dust and smoke shal goe vp euen into heauen, and
round about shal lament her.  45 And they that shal remaine vnder her,
shal serue them that terified her.  46 And thou Asia agreeing into the
hope of Babylon, and the glorie of her person, 47 woe be to thee thou
wretch, because thou art like to her, and hast adorned thy daughters in
fornication, to please & glorie in thy louers, which haue desired alwayes
to fornicate with thee.  48 Thou hast imitated the odious in al her
workes, and in her inuentions:  therefore sayth God:  49 I wil send in
euils vpon thee, widowhood, pouertie, and famine, and sword, and
pestilence, to destroy thy houses by violation, and death, and glorie of
thy vertue.  50 As a flower shal be withered, when the heate shal rise
that is sent forth vpon thee, 51 thou shalt be weakned as a litle poore
soule plaged and chastised of wemen, that the mightie and the louers may
not receiue thee.  52 Wil I be zealous against thee sayth our Lord,
53 vnles thou hadst slayne myne elect at al times, exalting the slaughter
of the handes, and saying vpon their death, when thou wast drunken.
54 Adorne the beautie of thy countenance.  55 The reward of thy
fornication is in thy bosome, therefore thou shalt receiue recompence.
56 As thou shalt doe to my elect, sayth our Lord, so shal God do to thee,
and shal deliuer thee vnto euil.  57 And thy children shal dye for
famine:  and thou shalt fal by the sword, and thy cities shal be
destroyed, & al thyne shal fal in the filde by the sword.  58 And they
that are in the mountaines, shal perish, with famine, and shal eate their
owne flesh, & drinke bloud, for the famine of bread and thirst of waters.
59 Vnhappie by the seas shalt thou come, and againe thou shalt receuie
euils.  60 And in the passage they shal beate against the idle citie, and
shal destroy some portion of thy land, and shal deface part of thy
glorie, againe returning to Babylon ourethrowen.  61 And being throwen
downe thou shalt be to them for stubble, and they shal be to thee fire:
62 and deuoure thee, and thy cities, thy land, and thy mountaynes, al thy
woodes and fruitful trees they wil burne with fire.  63 Thy children they
shal lead captiue, & shal haue thy goodes for a praye, and the glorie of
thy face they shal destroy.
Al are admonished, that extreme calamities shal fal vpon this world,
36. the penitent returning to iustice shal escape, 55. & as al thinges
were made by Gods omnipotent powre at his wil, so al thinges shal serue
to the reward of the blessed, and punishment of the wicked.
VVOE to thee Babylon & Asia, woe to thee AEgypt, and Syria.  2 Gird
yourselues with sackclothes and shirtes of heare, & mourne for your
children, & be sorie:  because your destruction is at hand.  3 The sword
is sent in vpon you, and who is he that can turne it away?  4 Fire is
sent in vpon you, and who is he that can quench it?  5 Euiles are sent in
vpon you, and who is he that can repel them?  6 Shal anie man repel the
lion being hungrie in the woode, or quench the fire in stubble, forthwith
when it beginneth to burne?  7 Shal anie man repel the arrow shot of a
strong archer?  8 Our strong Lord sendeth in euiles, and who is he that
can repel them?  9 Fire came forth from his wrath, and who is he that can
quench it?  10 He wil lighten, who shal not feare, he wil thunder, and
who shal not be afrayed?  11 Our Lord wil threaten, and who shal not
vtterly be destroyed before his face?  12 The earth hath trembled, and
the fundations thereof, the sea tosseth vp waues from the depth, and the
floudes of it shal be destroyed, and the fishes thereof at the face of
our Lord, and at the glorie of his powre:  13 because his right hand is
strong which bendeth the bow, his arrowes be sharpe that are shot of him,
they shal not misse, when they shal begine to be shot into the endes of
the earth.  14 Behold euiles are sent, and they shal not returne til they
come vpon the earth.  15 The fire is kindled and it shal not be quenched,
til it consume the fundations of the earth.  16 For as the arrow shot of
a strong archer returneth not, so shal not the euils returne backe, that
shal be sent vpon the earth.  17 Woe is me, woe is me:  who shal deliuer
me in those dayes?  18 The beginning of sorrowes and much mourning, the
beginning of famine and much destruction.  The beginning of warres and
the potestates shal feare, the beginning of euiles and al shal tremble.
19 In these what shal I doe, when the euils shal come?  20 Behold famine,
and plague, and tribulation, and distresse are sent al as scourges for
amendment, 21 and in al these they wil not conuert themselues from their
iniquities, neither wil they be alwayes mindful of the scourges.
22 Behold, there shal be good cheape victuals vpon the earth, so that
they may thinke that peace is directly coming toward them, and then shal
euiles spring vpon the earth, sword, famine, and great confusion.  23 For
by famine manie that inhabit the earth shal dye, and the sword shal
destroy the rest that remained aliue of the famine, 24 and the dead shal
be cast forth as dung, and there shal be none to comfort them.  For the
earth shal be left desert, and the cities therof shal be throwen downe.
25 There shal not be left a man to til the ground and to sow it.  26 The
trees shal yeeld fruites, and who shal gather them?  27 The grape shal
become ripe, & who shal tread it?  For there shal be great desolation to
places.  28 For a man shal desire to see a man, or to heare his voyce.
29 For there shal be leaft ten of a citie, and two of the field that haue
hid themselues in thicke woodes, and cliffes of rockes.  30 As there are
left in the oliuet, and on euerie tree, three of foure oliues.  31 Or as
in a vinyeard when it is gathered there are grapes left by them, that
diligently search the vineyard:  32 so shal there be left in those dayes
three or foure, by them that search their houses in the sword.  33 And
the earth shal be left desolate, and the fildes thereof shal waxe old, &
the wayes thereof, and al the pathes thereof shal bringforth thornes,
because no man shal passe by it.  34 Virgins shal mourne hauing no
bridegromes, wemen shal mourne hauing no husbandes, their daughters shal
mourne hauing no helpe:  35 their bridegromes shal be consumed in battel,
and their husbandes be destroyed in famine.  36 But heare these thinges,
and know them ye seruantes of our Lord.  37 Behold the word of our Lord,
receiue it:  beleue not the goddes of whom our Lord speaketh.  38 Behold
the euiles approch, and slacke not.  39 As a woman with childe when shee
bringeth forth her child in the ninth moneth, the houre of her
deliuerance approching, two or three howres before, paines come about her
wombe, and the infants coming out of her wombe, they wil not tarrie one
moment.  40 So the euiles shal not slacke to come forth vpon the earth,
and the world shal lament, and sorowes shal hold it round about.
41 Heare the word, my people:  prepare yourselues vnto the fight, & in
the euiles so be ye as strangers of the earth.  42 He that selleth as if
he should flee, and he that byeth as he that should lose it.  43 He that
playeth the marchant, as he that should take no fruite:  and he that
buildeth as he that should not inhabite.  44 He that soweth, as he that
shal not reape:  so he also that pruneth a vinyeard, as if he should not
haue the vintage.  45 They that marie so as if they should not get
children, & they that marie not, so as if were widowes.  46 Wherfore they
that labour, labour without cause:  47 for foreners shal reape their
fruites, & shal violently take their goodes, and ouerthrow their houses,
and lead theire children captiue, because in captiuitie, and famine they
beget their children.  48 And they that play the marchantes by robrie,
the longer they adorne their cities and houses, and their possessions and
persons:  49 so much the more wil I be zealous toward them, vpon their
sinnes, sayth our Lord.  50 As a whore enuieth an honest & very good
woman:  51 so shal iustice hate impietie when she adorneth herselfe, and
accuseth her to her face, when he shal come that may defend him that
searcheth out al vpon the earth.  52 Therefore be not made like to her,
nor to her workes.  53 For yet a little whyle & iniquitie shal be taken
away from the earth, & iustice shal reigne ouer you.  54 Let not the
sinner say he hath not sinned:  because he shal burne coales of fire vpon
his head, that sayth I haue not sinned before our Lord God and his
glorie.  55 Behold our Lord shal know al the workes of men, and their
inuentions, & their cogitations, and their hartes.  (Eccli 23 / Luke 16)
56 For he sayd:  Let the earth be made, and it was made:  let the heauen
be made, & it was made.  (Gen 1)  57 And by his worde the starrs were
made, & he noweth the number of the starres.  (Ps 146:4)  58 Who
searcheth the depth and the treasures therof:  who hath measured the sea,
& capacitie therof.  (Job 38)  59 Who hath shut vp the sea in the midest
of waters, & hath hanged the earth vpon the waters with his word.  60 Who
hath spred heauen as it were a vault, ouer the waters he hath founded it.
61 Who hath put fountaines of waters in the desert, and lakes vpon the
toppes of mountaines, to send forth riuers from the high rocke to watter
the earth.  62 Who made man & put his hart in the midds of the bodie, and
gaue him spirit, life and vnderstanding.  63 And the inspiration of God
omnipotent that made al thinges, and searcheth al hid thinges, in the
secretes of the earth.  64 He knoweth your inuention, and what you thinke
in your hartes sinning, and willing to hide your sinnes.  65 Wherfore our
Lord in searching hath searched al your workes, and he wil put you al to
open shame, 66 and you shal be confounded when your sinnes shal come
forth before men, and the iniquities shal be they, that shal stand
accusers in that day.  67 What wil you doe?  or how shal you hide your
sinnes before God and his Angels?  68 Behold God is the Iudge, feare him.
Cease from your sinnes, and now forget your iniquities to doe them anie
more, & God wil bring you out, and deliuer you from al tribulation.
69 For behold the heate of a great multitude is kindled ouer you, and
they shal take certaine of you by violence, & shal make the slaine to be
meate for idols.  70 And they that shal consent vnto them, shal be to
them in derision, and in reproch, and in conculcation.  71 For there shal
be place against places, and against the next cities great insurrection
vpon them that feare our Lord.  72 They shal be as it were madde sparing
no bodie, to spoyle and waste yet them that feare our Lord.  73 because
they shal waste and spoyle the goodes, and shal cast them out of their
houses.  74 Then shal appeare the probation of mine elect, as gold that
is proued by the fire.  75 Heare be beloued, sayth our Lord:  Behold the
dayes of tribulation are come:  and out of them I wil deliuer you.
76 Doe not feare, nor stagger, because God is your guide.  77 And he that
kepeth my commandmentes, and precepts, sayth our Lord God:  Let not your
sinnes ouerway you, nor your inquities be aduanced ouer you.  78 Woe to
them that are entangled with their sinnes, and are couered with their
iniquities, as a filde is entangled with the wood, & the path therof
couered with thornes, by which no man passeth, & it is closed out, & cast
to be deuoured of the fire.
Note:  This translation comes from the Latin text, usually printed in an
appendix to editions of the Vulgate, but these editions miss seventy
verses between 7:35 and 7:36.  The missing fragment was discovered in a
Latin manuscript by Robert Lubbock Bensly in 1874.  Below is a
translation of this fragment from a revised Authorized Version.
Although often numbered 7:36-7:105, they are here number as A:1-A:70 to
avoid any repetition in chapter:verse designations.
A:1. And the pit of torment shall appear, and over against it shall be
the place of rest:  and the furnace of hell shall be shewed, and over
against it the paradise of delight.
A:2. And then shall the Most High say to the nations that are raised from
the dead, See ye and understand whom ye have denied, or whom ye have not
served, or whose commandments ye have despised.
A:3. Look on this side and on that:  here is delight and rest, and there
fire and torments.  Thus shall he speak unto them in the day of
A:4. This is a day that hath neither sun, nor moon, nor stars,
A:5. neither cloud, nor thunder, nor lightning, neither wind, nor water,
nor air, neither darkness, nor evening, nor morning,
A:6. neither summer, nor spring, nor heat, nor winter, neither frost, nor
cold, nor hail, nor rain, nor dew,
A:7. neither noon, nor night, nor dawn, neither shining, nor brightness,
nor light, save only the splendour of the glory of the Most High, whereby
all shall see the things that are set before them:
A:8. for it shall endure as it were a week of years.
A:9. This is my judgement and the ordinance thereof; but to thee only
have I shewed these things.
A:10. And I answered, I said even then, O Lord, and I say now:  Blessed
are they that be now alive and keep the statutes ordained of thee.
A:11. But as touching them for whom my prayer was made, what shall I say?
for who is there of them that be alive that hath not sinned, and who of
the sons of men that hath not transgressed thy covenant?
A:12. And now I see, that the world to come shall bring delight to few,
but torments unto many.
A:13. For an evil heart hath grown up in us, which hath led us astray
from these statutes, and hath brought us into corruption and into the
ways of death, hath shewed us the paths of perdition and removed us far
from life; and that, not a few only, but well nigh all that have been
A:14. And he answered me, and said, Hearken unto me, and I will instruct
thee; and I will admonish thee yet again:
A:15. for this cause the Most High hath not made one world, but two.
A:16. For whereas thou hast said that the just are not many, but few, and
the ungodly abound, hear the answer thereunto.
A:17. If thou have choice stones exceeding few, wilt thou set for thee
over against them according to their number things of lead and clay?
A:18. And I say, Lord, how shall this be?
A:19. And he said unto me, Not only this, but ask the earth, and she
shall tell thee; intreat her, and she shall declare unto thee.
A:20. For thou shalt say unto her, Thou bringest forth gold and silver
and brass, and iron also and lead and clay:
A:21. but silver is more abundant than gold, and brass than silver, and
iron than brass, lead than iron, and clay than lead.
A:22. Judge thou therefore which things are precious and to be desired,
whatso is abundant or what is rare.
A:23. And I said, O Lord that bearest rule, that which is plentiful is of
less worth, for that which is more rare is more precious.
A:24. And he answered me, and said, Weigh within thyself the things that
thou hast thought, for he that hath what is hard to get rejoiceth over
him that hath what is plentiful.
A:25. So also is the judgement which I have promised:  for I will rejoice
over the few that shall be saved, inasmuch as these are they that have
made my glory now to prevail, and of whom my name is now named.
A:26. And I will not grieve over the multitude of them that perish; for
these are they that are now like unto vapour, and are become as flame and
smoke; they are set on fire and burn hotly, and are quenched.
A:27. And I answered and said, O thou earth, wherefore hast thou brought
forth, if the mind is made out of dust, like as all other created things?
A:28. For it were better that the dust itself had been unborn, so that
the mind might not have been made therefrom.
A:29. But now the mind groweth with us, and by reason of this we are
tormented, because we perish and know it.
A:30. Let the race of men lament and the beasts of the field be glad; let
all that are born lament, but let the fourfooted beasts and the cattle
A:31. For it is far better with them than with us; for they look not for
judgement, neither do they know of torments or of salvation promised unto
them after death.
A:32. For what doth it profit us, that we shall be preserved alive, but
yet be afflicted with torment?
A:33. For all that are born are defiled with iniquities, and are full of
sins and laden with offences:
A:34. and if after death we were not to come into judgement, peradventure
it had been better for us.
A:35. And he answered me, and said, When the Most High made the world,
and Adam and all them that came of him, he first prepared the judgement
and the things that pertain unto the judgement.
A:36. And now understand from thine own words, for thou hast said that
the mind groweth with us.
A:37. They therefore that dwell upon the earth shall be tormented for
this reason, that having understanding they have wrought iniquity, and
receiving commandments have not kept them, and having obtained a law they
dealt unfaithfully with that which they received.
A:38. What then will they have to say in the judgement, or how will they
answer in the last times?
A:39. For how great a time hath the Most High been longsuffering with
them that inhabit the world, and not for their sakes, but because of the
times which he hath foreordained!
A:40. And I answered and said, If I have found grace in thy sight, O
Lord, shew this also unto thy servant, whether after death, even now when
every one of us giveth up his soul, we shall be kept in rest until those
times come, in which thou shalt renew the creation, of whether we shall
be tormented forthwith.
A:41. And he answered me, and said, I will shew thee this also; but join
not thyself with them that are scorners, nor number thyself with them
that are tormented.
A:42. For thou hast a treasure of good works laid up with the Most High,
but it shall not be shewed thee until the last times.
A:43. For concerning death the teaching is:  When the determinate
sentence hath gone forth from the Most High that a man should die, as the
spirit leaveth the body to return again to him who gave it, it adoreth
the glory of the Most High first of all.
A:44. And if it be one of those that have been scorners and have not kept
the way of the Most High, and that have despised his law, and that hate
them that fear God,
A:45. these spirits shall not enter into habitations, but shall wander
and be in torments forthwith, ever grieving and sad, in seven ways.
A:46. The first way, because they have despised the law of the Most High.
A:47. The second way, because they cannot now make a good returning that
they may live.
A:48. The third way, they shall see the reward laid up for them that have
believed the covenants of the Most High.
A:49. The fourth way, they shall consider the torment laid up for
themselves in the last days.
A:50. The fifth way, they shall see the dwelling places of the others
guarded by angels, with great quietness.
A:51. The sixth way, they shall see how forthwith some of them shall pass
into torment.
A:52. The seventh way, which is more grievous than all the aforesaid
ways, because they shall pine away in confusion and be consumed with
shame, and shall be withered up by fears, seeing the glory of the Most
High before whom they have sinned whilst living, and before whom they
shall be judged in the last times.
A:53. Now this is the order of those who have kept the ways of the Most
High, when they shall be separated from the corruptible vessel.
A:54. In the time that they dwelt therin they painfully served the Most
High, and were in jeopardy every hour, that they might keep the law of
the lawgiver perfectly.
A:55. Wherefore this is the teaching concerning them:
A:56. First of all they shall see with great joy the glory of him who
taketh them up, for they shall have rest in seven orders.
A:57. The first order, because they have striven with great labour to
overcome the evil thought which was fashioned together with them, that it
might not lead them astray from life into death.
A:58. The second order, because they see the perplexity in which the
souls of the ungodly wander, and the punishment that awaiteth them.
A:59. The third order, they see the witness which he that fashioned them
beareth concerning them, that while they lived they kept the law which
was given them in trust.
A:60. The fourth order, they understand the rest which, being gathered in
their chambers, they now enjoy with great quietness, guarded by angels,
and the glory that awaiteth them in the last days.
A:61. The fifth order, they rejoice, seeing how they have now escaped
from that which is corruptible, and how they shall inherit that which is
to come, while they see moreover the straitness and the painfulness from
which they have been delivered, and the large room which they shall
receive with joy and immortality.
A:62. The sixth order, when it is shewed unto them how their face shall
shine as the sun, and how they shall be made like unto the light of the
stars, being henceforth incorruptible.
A:63. The seventh order, which is greater than all the aforesaid orders,
because they shall rejoice with confidence, and because they shall be
bold without confusion, and shall be glad without fear, for they hasten
to behold the face of him whom in their lifetime they served, and from
whom they shall receive their reward in glory.
A:64. This is the order of the souls of the just, as from henceforth is
announced unto them, and aforesaid are the ways of torture which they
that would not give heed shall suffer from henceforth.
A:65. And I answered and said, Shall time therefore be given unto the
souls after they are separated from the bodies, that they may see that
whereof thou hast spoken unto me?
A:66. And he said, Their freedom shall be for seven days, that for seven
days they may see the things whereof thou hast been told, and afterwards
they shall be gathered together in their habitations.
A:67. And I answered and said, If I have found favour in thy sight, shew
further unto me thy servant whether in the day of judgement the just will
be able to intercede for the ungodly or to intreat the Most High for
A:68. whether fathers for children, or children for parents, or brethren
for brethren, or kinsfolk for their next of kin, or friends for them that
are most dear.
A:69. And he answered me, and said, Since thou hast found favour in my
sight, I will shew thee this also:  The day of judgement is a day of
decision, and displayeth unto all the seal of truth; even as now a father
sendeth not his son, or a son his father, or a master his slave, or a
friend him that is most dear, that in his stead he may be sick, or sleep,
or eat, or be healed:
A:70. so never shall any one pray for another in that day, neither shall
one lay a burden on another, for then shall all bear every one his own
righteousness or unrighteousness.
BOOKS FOR COMPARISON
THE PROPHECIE OF ABDIAS.
ABDIAS borne in Sichem, of the tribe Ephraim, prophecied the same time
with Amos; so briefly that his prophecie is not parted into chapters:
1. against the Idumeans; foreshewing their destruction; 10. for their
perpetual emnitie against the Iewes, and confederacie with the Chaldees.
17. The captiuitie and relaxation of the Iewes.  19. And redemption of
the whole world by Christ.
THE vision of Abdias.  Thus sayth our Lord God to Edom:  We haue heard a
bruit from our Lord, and he hath sent a legate to the Gentils:  Rise ye,
and let vs arise against him into battel.  2 Behold I haue geuen thee a
litle one in the Gentils:  thou art contemptible excedingly.  3 The pride
of thy hart hath extolled thee, dwelling in the clefts of rockes,
exalting thy throne:  which sayst in thy hart:  Who shal plucke me downe
to the earth.  4 If thou shalt be exalted as an eagle, and if thou shalt
set thy nest among the starres:  thence wil I plucke thee downe, sayth
our Lord.  5 If theues had gone in to thee, if robbers by night, how
hadst thou held thy peace.  would not they haue stolen thinges sufficent
for themselues.  if the grape gathereres had entered in to thee, would
they not haue left thee at the least a cluster.  6 How haue they searched
Esau, haue they sought out his hidden thinges.  7 Euen to the border haue
they cast thee out:  al the men of thy league haue mocked thee:  the men
of thy peace haue peuailed against thee:  they that eate with thee, shal
lay embushments vnder thee:  there is no wisedom in him.  8 Why, shal not
I in that day, sayth our Lord, destroy the wise out of Idumea, and
prudence from the mount of Esau, 9 And thy valients of the South shal
feare, that man may perish from the mount of Esau.  10 For the slaughter,
and for the iniquitie against thy brother Iacob, confusion shal couer
thee, and thou shalt perish for euer.  11 In the day when thou stoodest
against him, when strangers tooke his armie, and foreners entered his
gates, and vpon Ierusalem cast lotte:  thou also wast as one of them.
12 And thou shalt not dispise in the day of thy brother, in the day of
his peregrination:  and thou shalt not reioyce ouer the children of Iuda,
in the day of their perdition:  & thou shalt not magnifie thy mouth in
the day of distresse.  13 Neither shalt thou enter the gate of my people
in the day of their ruine:  neither shalt thou also dispise in his euils
in the day of his distruction:  and thou shalt not be sent out against
his armie in the day of his destruction.  14 Neither shalt thou stand in
the outgoings to kil them that flee:  and thou shalt not shut vp his
remnant in the day of tribulation.  15 Because the day of our Lord is at
hand vpon al nations:  as thou hast done, so shal it be done to thee:
thy retribution he wil returne vpon thine owne head.  16 For as you haue
drunke vpon my holie mount, shal al Gentils drinke continually:  & they
shal drinke, and swallow vp, and they shal be as though they were not.
17 And in mount Sion shal be saluation, and it shal be holie:  and the
house of Iacob shal possesse those that had possessed them.  18 And the
house of Iacob shal be a fyre, and the house of Ioseph a flame, and the
house of Esau stubble:  and they shal be kindled in them, and shal
deuoure them:  and there shal be no remaynes of the house of Esau,
because our Lord hath spoken.  19 And they that are toward the South,
shal inherite the mount of Esau, and they in the champaine countries,
Philisthiims:  and they shal possesse the region of Ephraim, and the
region of Samaria:  and Beniamin shal possesse Galaad.  20 And the
transmigration of this host of the children of Israel, al places of the
Chananeits euen to Sarepta:  and the transmigration of Ierusalem, that is
in Bosphorus, shal possesse the cities of the South.  21 And sauiours
shal ascend into mount Sion to iudge the mount of Esau:  and the kingdom
shal be to our Lord.
THE CATHOLIKE EPISTLE OF IVDE THE APOSTLE.
He exhorteth them to stand to their old faith, shevving them by examples,
that it is damnable not to continue and be constant:  8 inueighing
against the lecherie, blasphemie, apostasie, banketing of the heretikes,
14 and that their damnation vvas long foretold.  17 Catholikes therfore
to be vnmoueable, to reproue the obstinate, to recouer al not desperate,
to confirme the vveake, and to liue them selues vertuously and vvithout
mortal sinne, vvhich by Gods grace they may doe.
IVDE the seruant of IESVS Christ, and brother of Iames:  to them that are
in God the Father beloued, and in IESVS Christ preserued, and called.
2 Mercie to you, and peace and charitie be accomplished.
    3 My deerest, taking al care to vvrite vnto you of your common
saluation, I thought it necessarie to vvrite vnto you:  beseeching you to
contend for the faith once deliuered to the sainctes.  4 For there are
certaine men secretely entred in (vvhich vvere long ago prescribed vnto
this iudgement) impious, transferring the grace of our God into
riotousnes, and denying the onely Dominator, and our Lord IESVS Christ.
5 But I vvil admonish you, that once knovv al things, that IESVS, sauing
the people out of the land of AEgipt, secondly destroied them vvhich
beleeued not.  6 But the Angels vvhich kept not their pricipalitie, but
forsooke their owne habitation, he hath reserued vnder darkenesse in
eternal bondes vnto the iudgement of the great day.  7 As Sodom and
Gomorrhe, and the cities adioyning in like maner hauing fornicated, and
going after other flesh, vvere made an example, sustaining the paine of
eternal fire.  8 In like maner these also defile the flesh, and despise
dominion, & blaspheme maiestie.  9 Vvhen Micheal the Archangel, disputing
vvith the Diuel, made altercation for the body of Moyses:  he durst not
inferre iudgment of blasphemie, but said, Our Lord 'commaund' thee.
10 But these, vvhat things so euer certes they are ignorant of, they
blaspheme:  and vvhat things so euer naturally, as dumme beastes, they
knovv, in those they are corrupted.
    11 Vvo vnto them, 'vvhich' haue gone in the vvay of Cain:  and vvith
the errour of Balaam, haue for revvard povvred out them selues, and haue
perished in the contradiction of Core.  12 These are in their bankets,
spottes, feasting together vvithout feare, feeding them selues, cloudes
vvithout vvater vvhich are caried about of vvindes, trees of autumne,
vnfruitful, tvvise dead, plucked vp by the rootes, 13 raging vvaues of
the sea, foming out their ovvne confusions, vvandering starres:  to vvhom
the storme of darkenesse is reserued for euer.  14 And of these 
propheceied Enoch, the seuenth from Adam, saying, Behold our Lord is come
in his holy thousandes, 15 to doe iudgement against al, and to reproue al
the impious, of al the vvorkes of their impietie vvherby they haue done
impiously, and of al the hard thinges vvhich impious sinners haue spoken
against him.  16 These are murmurers, ful of complaintes, vvalking
according to their ovvne desires, and their mouth speaketh pride,
admiring persons for gaine sake.
    17 But you my deerest, be mindeful of the vvordes vvhich haue been
spoken before by the Apostles of our Lord IESVS Christ, 18 vvho told you,
that in the last time shal come mockers, according to their ovvne desires
vvalking in impieties.  19 These are they vvhich segregate them selues,
sensual, hauing not the Spirit.  20 But you my deerest, building your
selues vpon 'our' most holy faith, in the holy Ghost, praying, 21 keepe
your selues in the loue of God, expecting the mercie of our Lord IESVS
Christ vnto life euerlasting.  22 And these certes reproue being iudged:
23 but them saue, pulling out of the fire.  And on other haue mercie in
feare:  hating also that vvhich is carnal, the spotted cote.
    24 And to him that is able to preserue you vvithout sinne, and to
sette you immaculate before the sight of his glorie in exultation in the
comming of our Lord IESVS Christ, 25 to the onely God our Sauiour by
IESVS Christ our Lord be glorie and magnificence, empire and power before
al worldes, and novv and for al vvorldes euermore.  Amen.
SUPPLEMENTAL MATERIAL
As recorded in the title, the Douay-Rheims version is a translation
primarily from the Latin Vulgate.  A brief selection from the preface to
the 1582 edition explains the reasons for this approach.  Together with
the glossary the text shows the translators scholarly motivations, but
also provides a glimpse into the charged climate of the period.  The
transcriber hopes he did a tolerable job in transliterating the Greek
words in the preface.  The glossary contains words newly used in the
language of the day.  Some were later dropped from the Challoner
revision, others have found common usage today.
THE PREFACE TO THE READER
Treating of the causes vvhy this nevv Testament is translated according
to the auncient vulgar Latin text.
THE holy Bible long since translated by vs into English, and the old
Testament lying by vs for lacke of good meanes to publish the vvhole in
such sort as a vvorke of so great charge and importance requireth:  vve
haue yet through Gods goodnes at length fully finished for thee (most
Christian reader) all the NEVV TESTAMENT, vvhich is the principal, most
profitable & comfortable peece of holy vvrite:  and, as vvel for all 
other institution of life and doctrine, as specially for deciding the
doubtes of these daies, more propre and pregnant then the other part not
yet printed.
NOVV TO GIVE thee also intelligence in particular, most gentle Reader, of
such thinges as it behoueth thee specially to knovv concerning our
Translation:  Vve translate the old vulgar Latin text, not the common
Greeke text, for these causes.
1. It is so auncient, that it vvas vsed in the Church of God aboue 1300
yeres agoe, as appeareth by the fathers of those times.
2. It is that (by the common receiued opinion and by al probabilitie)
vvhich S. Hierom aftervvard corrected according to the Greeke, by the
appointment of Damasus then Pope, as he maketh mention in his preface
before the foure Euangelistes, vnto the said Damasus:  and 'in Catalogo
in fine,' and 'ep. 102.'
3. Consequently it is the same vvhich S. Augustine so commendeth and
allovveth in an Epistle to S. Hierom.
4. It is that, vvhich for the most part euer since hath been vsed in the
Churches seruice, expounded in sermons, alleaged and interpreted in the
Commentaries and vvritings of the auncient fathers of the Latin Church.
5. The holy Councel of Trent, for these and many other important
considerations, hath declared and defined this onely of al other latin
translations, to be authentical, and so onely to be vsed and taken in
publike lessons, disputations, preachings, and expositions, and that no
man presume vpon any pretence to reiect or refuse the same.
6. It is the grauest, sincerest, of greatest maiestie, least partialitie,
as being vvithout al respect of controuersies and contentions, specially
these of our time, as appeareth by those places vvhich Erasmus and others
at this day translate much more to the aduantage of the Catholike cause.
7. It is so exact and precise according to the Greeke, both the phrase
and the word, that delicate Heretikes therfore reprehend it of rudenes.
And that it follovveth the Greeke far more exactly then the Protestants
translations, beside infinite other places, we appeale to these.
Tit. 3,14. 'Curent bonis operibus praeesse.' 'proissasthai.'  Engl. bib.
1577, 'to mainteine good vvorks.' and Hebr. 10, 20. 'Viam nobis
initiauit,' 'enekainisen.' English Bib. 'he prepared.'  So in these
vvordes, 'Iustificationes,' 'Traditiones,' 'Idola' &c.  In al vvhich they
come not neere the Greeke, but auoid it of purpose.
8. The Aduersaries them selues, namely Beza, preferre it before al the
rest.  (Inpraefat. no. Test an. 1556.)  And againe he saith, that the old
Interpreter translated very religiously. (Annot. in 1. Luc. v. 1.)
9. In the rest, there is such diuersitie and dissension, and no end of
reprehending one an other, and translating euery man according to his
fantasie, that Luther said, If the vvorld should stand any long time, vve
must receiue againe (which he thought absurd) the Decrees of Councels,
for preseruing the vnitie of faith, because of so diuers interpretations
of the Scripture.  And Beza (in the place aboue mentioned) noteth the
itching ambition of his fellovv-translators, that had much rather
disagree and dissent from the best, then seeme them selues to haue said
or vvritten nothing.  And Bezas translation it self, being so esteemed in
our countrie, that the Geneua English Testaments be translated according
to the same, yet sometime goeth so vvide from the Greeke, and from the
meaning of the holy Ghost, that them selues which protest to translate
it, dare not folow it.  For example, Luc. 3,36.  They haue put these
wordes, 'The sonne of Cainan,' which he wittingly and wilfully left out:
and (Act. 1,14.) they say, 'Vvith the vvomen,' agreably to the vulgar
Latin:  where he saith, 'Cum vxoribus,' 'vvith their vviues.'
10. It is not onely better then al other Latin translations, but then the
Greeke text it self, in those places where they disagree.
The proofe hereof is euident, because most of the auncient Heretikes were
Grecians, & therfore the Scriptures in Greeke were more corrupted by
them, as the auncient fathers often complaine.  Tertullian noteth the
Greeke text which is at this day (1 Cor. 15,47) to be an old corruption
of Marcion the Heretike, and the truth to be as in our vulgar latin,
'Secundus homo de caelo caelestis,' 'The second man from heauen
heauenly.'  So reade other auncient fathers, and Erasmus thinketh it must
needes be so, and Caluin him self folovveth in 'Instit. li. 2. c. 13.
parag. 2.'  Againe S. Hierom noteth that the Greeke text (1 Cor. 7, 33)
which is at this day, is not the 'Apostolical veritie' or the true text
of the Apostle:  but that which is in the vulgar Latin, 'Qui cum vxore
est, solicitus est quae sunt mundi, quomodo placeat vxori, & diuisus
est.'  'He that is vvith a vvife, is careful of vvorldly things, hovv he
may please his vvife, and is deuided or distracted.'  The Ecclesiastical
historie called the Tripartite, noteth the Greeke text that now is
(1 Io. 4, 3) to be an old corruption of the auncient Greeke copies, by
the Nestorian Heretikes, & the true reading to be as in our vulgar Latin,
'Omnis spiritus qui soluit IESVM, Ex Deo non est.'  'Euery spirit that
dissolueth IESVS, is not of God:'  and Beza confesseth that Socrates in
his Ecclesiastical historie readeth so in the Greeke.
But the proofe is more preganant out of the Aduersaires them selues.
They forsake the Greeke text as corrupted, and translate according to the
vulgar Latin, namely Beza and his scholers the English translatours of
the Bible, in these places.  Hebr. chap. 9. vers. 1. saying, 'The first
couenant,' for that vvhich is in the Greeke.  'The first tabernacle.'
vvhere they put, 'couenant,' not as of the text, but in an other letter,
as to be vnderstood, according to the vulgar Latin, vvhich most sincerely
leaueth it out altogether, saying, 'Habuit quidem & prius iustificationes
&c.'  'The former also in deede had iustifications &c.'  Againe, Ro. 11,
vers. 21.  They translate not according to the Greek text, 'Tempori
seruientes,' 'seruing the time,' vvhich Beza sayth must needes be a
corruption:  but according to the vulgar Latin, 'Domino seruientes,'
'seruing our Lord.'  Againe, Apoc. 11, vers. 2. they translate not the
Greeke text, 'Atrium quod intra templum est,' 'the court vvhich is
vvithin the temple:'  but cleane contrarie, according to the vulgar
Latin, vvhich Beza saith is the true reading, 'Atrium quod est foris
templum,' 'the court vvhich is vvithout the temple.'  Onely in this last
place, one English Bible of the yere 1562, folovveth the errour of the
Greeke.  Againe, 2 Tim. 23 vers. 14. they adde, 'but,' more then is in
the Greeke, to make the sense more commodious and easie, according as it
is in the vulgar Latin.  Againe, Ia. 5, 12. they leaue the Greeke, and
folovv the vulgar Latin, saying, 'lest you fall into condemnation.'  "I
doubt not (saith Beza) but this is the true and sincere reading, and I
suspect the corruption in the Greeke came thus &c."  It vvere infinite to
set dovvne al such places, vvhere the Aduersaries (specially Beza) folovv
the old vulgar Latin and the Greeke copie agreable therevnto, condemning
the Greeke text that novv is, of corruption.
HARD VVORDES EXPLICATED
The explication of certaine vvordes in this translation, not familiar to
the vulgar reader, vvhich might not conueniently be vttered otherwise.
Abstracted.  Dravven avvay.  [James 1:14]
Acquisition.  Getting, purchasing.  [Eph 1:14]
Aduent.  The comming.  [Matt 24:27]
Adulterating.  Corrupting.  [2 Cor 2:17]  The Greeke vvord signifieth to
  to make commoditie of the vvord of God, as vulgar Vinteners do of their
  vvine.  Vvhereby is expressed the peculiar trade of al Heretikes, and
  exceding proper to the Protestants, that so corrupt Scriptures
  by mixture of their ovvne phantasies, by false translations, glosses,
  colorable and pleasant commentaries, to deceiue the tast of the simple,
  as tauerners and tapsters do, to make their vvines salable by manifold
  artificial deceites.  The Apostles contrarievvise, as all Catholikes,
  deliuer the Scriptures and vtter the vvord of God sincerely and
  entirely, in the same sense and sort as the fathers left them to the
  Church, interpreting them by the same Spirit by vvhich they vvere
  vvritten or spoken.
Agnition.  Knovvledge or acknovvledging.  [Philemon 1:6]
Allegorie.  A Mystical speache, more then the bare letter.  [Gal 4:24]
  Here vve learne that the holy Scriptures haue beside the litteral
  sense, a deeper spiritual and more principal meaning:  which is not
  only to be taken of the holy vvordes, but of the very factes and
  persons reported:  both the speaches and the actions being
  significatiue ouer and aboue the letter.
Amen.  What is it vvhen our Lord saith, Amen, amen?  He doth much commend
  and vrge the thing he so vttereth, doubling it.  Amen in Hebrue
  signifieth verum, a truth.  [John 8:34]
Anathema.  By vse of Scripture is either that vvhich by separation from
  profane vse, and by dedication to God, is holy, dreadful, and not
  vulgarly to be touched:  or contrarievvise, that which is reiected,
  seuered or abandoned from God, as cursed and detested, and therfore is
  to be auoided.  [Rom 9:3]
Archisynagogue.  Cheefe gouerner of a Synagogue.  [Mark 5:22]
Assist.  Signifieth the Angels standing and attending, alvvaies readie
  to doe their ministerie.  [Luke 1:19]
Assumption.  Christs departure out of this vvorld by his death and
  Ascension.  [Luke 9:51]
Azymes.  Vnleauened bread.  [Matt 26:17]
Calumniate.  By this vvord is signified violent oppression by vvord or
  deede.  [Luke 3:14]
Catechizeth, and, Catechized.  He catechizeth that teacheth the
  principles of the Christian faith:  and they that heare and learne,
  are catechized, and are therfore called often in the Annotations,
  Catechumens.  [Gal 6:6]
Character.  A marke or stampe.  [Apoc 13:16]
Commessations.  Immoderate bankets, and belly cheere, vvith vvanton
  riotousnes.  [Gal 5:21]
Condigne.  Comparable.  [Rom 8:18]
Contristate.  This vvord signifieth to make heauie and sad.  [Eph 4:30]
Cooperate.  Signifieth vvorking vvith others, likevvise Cooperation,
  Cooperatours.  [Rom 8:28]
Corbana.  This Corbana was a place about the Temple, which receiued the
  peoples gifts or offerings.  [Matt 27:6]
Depositum.  The vvhole doctrine of our Christianity being taught by the
  Apostles, and deliuered to their successors, and comming dovvne from
  one Bishop to an other, is called the Depositum, as it vvere a thing
  laid into their hands, and committed vnto them to keepe.  Vvhich
  because it passeth from hand to hand, from age to age, from Bishop to
  Bishop vvithout corruption, change, or alteration, is al one vvith
  Tradition, and is the truth giuen vnto the holy Bishops to keepe, and
  not to lay men.  [1 Tim 6:20]  It may signifie also, Gods graces giuen
  vs to keepe.  A great comfort to al Christians, that euery of their
  goode deedes and sufferings for Christ, and al the vvorldly losses
  susteined for defense or confession of their faith, be extant vvith
  God, and kept as depositum, to be repaied or receiued againe in heauen.
  [2 Tim 1:12,14]
Didrachme.  These didrachmes were peeces of money which they payed for
  tribute.  [Matt 17:23,24]
Dominical day.  Sunday.  [Apoc 1:10]  It is to be marked, that this holy
  day by the Apostles tradition also, vvas named Dominicus dies, our
  Lordes day, or the Dominike, vvhich is also an old Ecclesiastical vvord
  in our language, for the name Sunday is a heathenish calling, as al
  other of the vveeke daies be in our language.
Donaries.  Giftes offered to God for his Temple, &c.  [Luke 21:5]
Euacuated from Christ.  That is, Made voide and hauing no part vvith
  him.  [Gal 5:4]  The scandal of the crosse euacuated, that is, made
  voide, cleane taken avvay.  [Gal 5:11]
Euangelize.  Signifieth such preaching of good tidinges, as concerneth
  the Gospel.  How is it possible to expresse Euangelizo, but as vve do,
  Euangelize?  for Euangelium being the Gospel, what is, Euangelizo or to
  Euangelize, but to shew the glad tydings of the Gospel, of the time of
  grace, of al Christs benefites?  Al which signification is lost, by
  translating as the English bibles do, "I bring you good tydings."
Eunuches.  Gelded men.
Euro-aquilo.  A north-eastvvinde.  [Acts 27:14]
Exinanited.  Abased excedingly.  [Phil 2:7]
Gratis.  An vsual vvord to signifie, for nothing, freely, for
  Godamercie, vvithout desert.
Holocauste.  A kinde of sacrifice vvhere al vvas burnt in the honour
  of God.  [Hebr 10:6]
Hostes.  Sacrifices.  [1 Cor 10:18]
Inuocated.  Called vpon, praied vnto.  [Acts 9:21]  Hereof vve say,
  Inuocation of Saincts, and to inuocate.
Issue.  Good euent.  [1 Cor 10:13]
Iustice.  Taken in the nevv Testament, not as it is contrarie to vvrong
  or iniurie, but for that qualitie vvhereof a man is iust and
  iustified.  [Rom 4:9]
Neophyte.  Neophytus is he that vvas lately christened or nevvely
  planted in the mystical body of Christ.  [1 Tim 3:6]
Paraclete.  By interpretation is either a comforter, or an aduocate: and
  therfore to translate it by any one of them only, is perhaps to
  abridge the sense of this place.  [John 14:16]
Parasceue.  The Ievves Sabboth-eue, Good friday.  [Mark 15:42]
  Parasceue is as solemne a word for the Sabboth eue, as Sabboth is for
  the Iewes seuenth day, and now among Christians much more solemner,
  taken for Good-friday onely.  These wordes then we thought it far
  better to keepe in the text, and to tel their signification in the
  margent or in a table for that purpose, then to disgrace bothe the text
  and them with translating them.
Pasche.  Easter, and the Paschal lambe.  [Luke 22:1]
Pentecost.  Vvhitsuntide, &, the space of fiftie daies.
Prefinition.  A determination before.  [Eph 3:11]
Prepuce.  The foreskinne not circumcised, & therfore signifieth the
  Gentiles:  as circumcision, the Ievves and their state.  [Rom 2:25]
Prescience.  Foreknovvledge.  [Acts 2:23]
Preuaricatour.  Transgressor:  and preuarication, transgression.
  [Rom 2:25]
Loaues of Proposition.  So called, because they vvere proposed and set
  vpon the table in the Temple, before God.  [Matt 12:4]
Repropitiate the sinnes.  That is, make a reconciliation for them.
  [Heb 2:17]
Resolution.  The separation of the body and the soule, the departing out
  of this life.  [2 Tim 4:6]
Resuscitate the grace.  That is, Raise, quicken, renew and reviue the
  grace vvhich othervvise languisheth and decaieth.  [2 Tim 1:6]
Sabbatisme.  A time of resting and ceasing from labours.  [Heb 4:9]
Sacrament.  For mysterie.  [Eph 1:9]
Sancta Sanctorum.  The holie of holies, that is, the inmost and holiest
  place of the Ievves Temple, as it vvere the Chauncel.  [Heb 9:3]
Superedified.  Builded vpon Christ the principal stone.  [1 Pet 2:5]
Tetrarch.  Gouernour or Prince of the 4 part of a countrie. [Matt 14:1]
Thrones.  An higher order of Angels.  [Col 1:16]
Victims.  Sacrifice.  [Acts 7:42]
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of
Richard the Third
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie
of Richard the Third.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Richard the Third
with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Richard Duke of Gloster, solus.
Now is the Winter of our Discontent,
Made glorious Summer by this Son of Yorke:
And all the clouds that lowr'd vpon our house
In the deepe bosome of the Ocean buried.
Now are our browes bound with Victorious Wreathes,
Our bruised armes hung vp for Monuments;
Our sterne Alarums chang'd to merry Meetings;
Our dreadfull Marches, to delightfull Measures.
Grim-visag'd Warre, hath smooth'd his wrinkled Front:
And now, in stead of mounting Barbed Steeds,
To fright the Soules of fearfull Aduersaries,
He capers nimbly in a Ladies Chamber,
To the lasciuious pleasing of a Lute.
But I, that am not shap'd for sportiue trickes,
Nor made to court an amorous Looking-glasse:
I, that am Rudely stampt, and want loues Maiesty,
To strut before a wonton ambling Nymph:
I, that am curtail'd of this faire Proportion,
Cheated of Feature by dissembling Nature,
Deform'd, vn-finish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing World, scarse halfe made vp,
And that so lamely and vnfashionable,
That dogges barke at me, as I halt by them.
Why I (in this weake piping time of Peace)
Haue no delight to passe away the time,
Vnlesse to see my Shadow in the Sunne,
And descant on mine owne Deformity.
And therefore, since I cannot proue a Louer,
To entertaine these faire well spoken dayes,
I am determined to proue a Villaine,
And hate the idle pleasures of these dayes.
Plots haue I laide, Inductions dangerous,
By drunken Prophesies, Libels, and Dreames,
To set my Brother Clarence and the King
In deadly hate, the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and iust,
As I am Subtle, False, and Treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd vp:
About a Prophesie, which sayes that G,
Of Edwards heyres the murtherer shall be.
Diue thoughts downe to my soule, here Clarence comes.
Enter Clarence, and Brakenbury, guarded.
Brother, good day: What meanes this armed guard
That waites vpon your Grace?
  Cla. His Maiesty tendring my persons safety,
Hath appointed this Conduct, to conuey me to th' Tower
  Rich. Vpon what cause?
  Cla. Because my name is George
   Rich. Alacke my Lord, that fault is none of yours:
He should for that commit your Godfathers.
O belike, his Maiesty hath some intent,
That you should be new Christned in the Tower,
But what's the matter Clarence, may I know?
  Cla. Yea Richard, when I know: but I protest
As yet I do not: But as I can learne,
He hearkens after Prophesies and Dreames,
And from the Crosse-row pluckes the letter G:
And sayes, a Wizard told him, that by G,
His issue disinherited should be.
And for my name of George begins with G,
It followes in his thought, that I am he.
These (as I learne) and such like toyes as these,
Hath moou'd his Highnesse to commit me now
   Rich. Why this it is, when men are rul'd by Women:
'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower,
My Lady Grey his Wife, Clarence 'tis shee,
That tempts him to this harsh Extremity.
Was it not shee, and that good man of Worship,
Anthony Woodeuile her Brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower?
From whence this present day he is deliuered?
We are not safe Clarence, we are not safe
   Cla. By heauen, I thinke there is no man secure
But the Queenes Kindred, and night-walking Heralds,
That trudge betwixt the King, and Mistris Shore.
Heard you not what an humble Suppliant
Lord Hastings was, for her deliuery?
  Rich. Humbly complaining to her Deitie,
Got my Lord Chamberlaine his libertie.
Ile tell you what, I thinke it is our way,
If we will keepe in fauour with the King,
To be her men, and weare her Liuery.
The iealous ore-worne Widdow, and her selfe,
Since that our Brother dub'd them Gentlewomen,
Are mighty Gossips in our Monarchy
   Bra. I beseech your Graces both to pardon me,
His Maiesty hath straightly giuen in charge,
That no man shall haue priuate Conference
(Of what degree soeuer) with your Brother
   Rich. Euen so, and please your Worship Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speake no Treason man; We say the King
Is wise and vertuous, and his Noble Queene
Well strooke in yeares, faire, and not iealious.
We say, that Shores Wife hath a pretty Foot,
A cherry Lip, a bonny Eye, a passing pleasing tongue:
And that the Queenes Kindred are made gentle Folkes.
How say you sir? can you deny all this?
  Bra. With this (my Lord) my selfe haue nought to
   Rich. Naught to do with Mistris Shore?
I tell thee Fellow, he that doth naught with her
(Excepting one) were best to do it secretly alone
   Bra. What one, my Lord?
  Rich. Her Husband Knaue, would'st thou betray me?
  Bra. I do beseech your Grace
To pardon me, and withall forbeare
Your Conference with the Noble Duke
   Cla. We know thy charge Brakenbury, and wil obey
   Rich. We are the Queenes abiects, and must obey.
Brother farewell, I will vnto the King,
And whatsoe're you will imploy me in,
Were it to call King Edwards Widdow, Sister,
I will performe it to infranchise you.
Meane time, this deepe disgrace in Brotherhood,
Touches me deeper then you can imagine
   Cla. I know it pleaseth neither of vs well
   Rich. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long,
I will deliuer you, or else lye for you:
Meane time, haue patience
   Cla. I must perforce: Farewell.
Exit Clar[ence].
  Rich. Go treade the path that thou shalt ne're return:
Simple plaine Clarence, I do loue thee so,
That I will shortly send thy Soule to Heauen,
If Heauen will take the present at our hands.
But who comes heere? the new deliuered Hastings?
Enter Lord Hastings.
  Hast. Good time of day vnto my gracious Lord
   Rich. As much vnto my good Lord Chamberlaine:
Well are you welcome to this open Ayre,
How hath your Lordship brook'd imprisonment?
  Hast. With patience (Noble Lord) as prisoners must:
But I shall liue (my Lord) to giue them thankes
That were the cause of my imprisonment
   Rich. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too,
For they that were your Enemies, are his,
And haue preuail'd as much on him, as you,
  Hast. More pitty, that the Eagles should be mew'd,
Whiles Kites and Buzards play at liberty
   Rich. What newes abroad?
  Hast. No newes so bad abroad, as this at home:
The King is sickly, weake, and melancholly,
And his Physitians feare him mightily
   Rich. Now by S[aint]. Iohn, that Newes is bad indeed.
O he hath kept an euill Diet long,
And ouer-much consum'd his Royall Person:
'Tis very greeuous to be thought vpon.
Where is he, in his bed?
  Hast. He is
   Rich. Go you before, and I will follow you.
Exit Hastings.
He cannot liue I hope, and must not dye,
Till George be pack'd with post-horse vp to Heauen.
Ile in to vrge his hatred more to Clarence,
With Lyes well steel'd with weighty Arguments,
And if I faile not in my deepe intent,
Clarence hath not another day to liue:
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leaue the world for me to bussle in.
For then, Ile marry Warwickes yongest daughter.
What though I kill'd her Husband, and her Father,
The readiest way to make the Wench amends,
Is to become her Husband, and her Father:
The which will I, not all so much for loue,
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her, which I must reach vnto.
But yet I run before my horse to Market:
Clarence still breathes, Edward still liues and raignes,
When they are gone, then must I count my gaines.
Scena Secunda.
Enter the Coarse of Henrie the sixt with Halberds to guard it, Lady
being the Mourner.
  Anne. Set downe, set downe your honourable load,
If Honor may be shrowded in a Herse;
Whil'st I a-while obsequiously lament
Th' vntimely fall of Vertuous Lancaster.
Poore key-cold Figure of a holy King,
Pale Ashes of the House of Lancaster;
Thou bloodlesse Remnant of that Royall Blood,
Be it lawfull that I inuocate thy Ghost,
To heare the Lamentations of poore Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtred Sonne,
Stab'd by the selfesame hand that made these wounds.
Loe, in these windowes that let forth thy life,
I powre the helplesse Balme of my poore eyes.
O cursed be the hand that made these holes:
Cursed the Heart, that had the heart to do it:
Cursed the Blood, that let this blood from hence:
More direfull hap betide that hated Wretch
That makes vs wretched by the death of thee,
Then I can wish to Wolues, to Spiders, Toades,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that liues.
If euer he haue Childe, Abortiue be it,
Prodigeous, and vntimely brought to light,
Whose vgly and vnnaturall Aspect
May fright the hopefull Mother at the view,
And that be Heyre to his vnhappinesse.
If euer he haue Wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him,
Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee.
Come now towards Chertsey with your holy Lode,
Taken from Paules, to be interred there.
And still as you are weary of this waight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henries Coarse.
Enter Richard Duke of Gloster.
  Rich. Stay you that beare the Coarse, & set it down
   An. What blacke Magitian coniures vp this Fiend,
To stop deuoted charitable deeds?
  Rich. Villaines set downe the Coarse, or by S[aint]. Paul,
Ile make a Coarse of him that disobeyes
   Gen. My Lord stand backe, and let the Coffin passe
   Rich. Vnmanner'd Dogge,
Stand'st thou when I commaund:
Aduance thy Halbert higher then my brest,
Or by S[aint]. Paul Ile strike thee to my Foote,
And spurne vpon thee Begger for thy boldnesse
   Anne. What do you tremble? are you all affraid?
Alas, I blame you not, for you are Mortall,
And Mortall eyes cannot endure the Diuell.
Auant thou dreadfull minister of Hell;
Thou had'st but power ouer his Mortall body,
His Soule thou canst not haue: Therefore be gone
   Rich. Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not so curst
   An. Foule Diuell,
For Gods sake hence, and trouble vs not,
For thou hast made the happy earth thy Hell:
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deepe exclaimes:
If thou delight to view thy heynous deeds,
Behold this patterne of thy Butcheries.
Oh Gentlemen, see, see dead Henries wounds,
Open their congeal'd mouthes, and bleed afresh.
Blush, blush, thou lumpe of fowle Deformitie:
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty Veines where no blood dwels.
Thy Deeds inhumane and vnnaturall,
Prouokes this Deluge most vnnaturall.
O God! which this Blood mad'st, reuenge his death:
O Earth! which this Blood drink'st, reuenge his death.
Either Heau'n with Lightning strike the murth'rer dead:
Or Earth gape open wide, and eate him quicke,
As thou dost swallow vp this good Kings blood,
Which his Hell-gouern'd arme hath butchered
   Rich. Lady, you know no Rules of Charity,
Which renders good for bad, Blessings for Curses
   An. Villaine, thou know'st nor law of God nor Man,
No Beast so fierce, but knowes some touch of pitty
   Rich. But I know none, and therefore am no Beast
   An. O wonderfull, when diuels tell the truth!
  Rich. More wonderfull, when Angels are so angry:
Vouchsafe (diuine perfection of a Woman)
Of these supposed Crimes, to giue me leaue
By circumstance, but to acquit my selfe
   An. Vouchsafe (defus'd infection of man)
Of these knowne euils, but to giue me leaue
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed Selfe
   Rich. Fairer then tongue can name thee, let me haue
Some patient leysure to excuse my selfe
   An. Fouler then heart can thinke thee,
Thou can'st make no excuse currant,
But to hang thy selfe
   Rich. By such dispaire, I should accuse my selfe
   An. And by dispairing shalt thou stand excused,
For doing worthy Vengeance on thy selfe,
That did'st vnworthy slaughter vpon others
   Rich. Say that I slew them not
   An. Then say they were not slaine:
But dead they are, and diuellish slaue by thee
   Rich. I did not kill your Husband
   An. Why then he is aliue
   Rich. Nay, he is dead, and slaine by Edwards hands
   An. In thy foule throat thou Ly'st,
Queene Margaret saw
Thy murd'rous Faulchion smoaking in his blood:
The which, thou once didd'st bend against her brest,
But that thy Brothers beate aside the point
   Rich. I was prouoked by her sland'rous tongue,
That laid their guilt, vpon my guiltlesse Shoulders
   An. Thou was't prouoked by thy bloody minde,
That neuer dream'st on ought but Butcheries:
Did'st thou not kill this King?
  Rich. I graunt ye
   An. Do'st grant me Hedge-hogge,
Then God graunt me too
Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deede,
O he was gentle, milde, and vertuous
   Rich. The better for the King of heauen that hath him
   An. He is in heauen, where thou shalt neuer come
   Rich. Let him thanke me, that holpe to send him thither:
For he was fitter for that place then earth
   An. And thou vnfit for any place, but hell
   Rich. Yes one place else, if you will heare me name it
   An. Some dungeon
   Rich. Your Bed-chamber
   An. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou lyest
   Rich. So will it Madam, till I lye with you
   An. I hope so
   Rich. I know so. But gentle Lady Anne,
To leaue this keene encounter of our wittes,
And fall something into a slower method.
Is not the causer of the timelesse deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henrie and Edward,
As blamefull as the Executioner
   An. Thou was't the cause, and most accurst effect
   Rich. Your beauty was the cause of that effect:
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleepe,
To vndertake the death of all the world,
So I might liue one houre in your sweet bosome
   An. If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide,
These Nailes should rent that beauty from my Cheekes
   Rich. These eyes could not endure y beauties wrack,
You should not blemish it, if I stood by;
As all the world is cheared by the Sunne,
So I by that: It is my day, my life
   An. Blacke night ore-shade thy day, & death thy life
   Rich. Curse not thy selfe faire Creature,
Thou art both
   An. I would I were, to be reueng'd on thee
   Rich. It is a quarrell most vnnaturall,
To be reueng'd on him that loueth thee
   An. It is a quarrell iust and reasonable,
To be reueng'd on him that kill'd my Husband
   Rich. He that bereft the Lady of thy Husband,
Did it to helpe thee to a better Husband
   An. His better doth not breath vpon the earth
   Rich. He liues, that loues thee better then he could
   An. Name him
   Rich. Plantagenet
   An. Why that was he
   Rich. The selfesame name, but one of better Nature
   An. Where is he?
  Rich. Heere:
Spits at him.
Why dost thou spit at me
   An. Would it were mortall poyson, for thy sake
   Rich. Neuer came poyson from so sweet a place
   An. Neuer hung poyson on a fowler Toade.
Out of my sight, thou dost infect mine eyes
   Rich. Thine eyes (sweet Lady) haue infected mine
   An. Would they were Basiliskes, to strike thee dead
   Rich. I would they were, that I might dye at once:
For now they kill me with a liuing death.
Those eyes of thine, from mine haue drawne salt Teares;
Sham'd their Aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which neuer shed remorsefull teare,
No, when my Father Yorke, and Edward wept,
To heare the pittious moane that Rutland made
When black-fac'd Clifford shooke his sword at him.
Nor when thy warlike Father like a Childe,
Told the sad storie of my Fathers death,
And twenty times, made pause to sob and weepe:
That all the standers by had wet their cheekes
Like Trees bedash'd with raine. In that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorne an humble teare:
And what these sorrowes could not thence exhale,
Thy Beauty hath, and made them blinde with weeping.
I neuer sued to Friend, nor Enemy:
My Tongue could neuer learne sweet smoothing word.
But now thy Beauty is propos'd my Fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speake.
She lookes scornfully at him.
Teach not thy lip such Scorne; for it was made
For kissing Lady, not for such contempt.
If thy reuengefull heart cannot forgiue,
Loe heere I lend thee this sharpe-pointed Sword,
Which if thou please to hide in this true brest,
And let the Soule forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly begge the death vpon my knee,
He layes his brest open, she offers at with his sword.
Nay do not pause: For I did kill King Henrie,
But 'twas thy Beauty that prouoked me.
Nay now dispatch: 'Twas I that stabb'd yong Edward,
But 'twas thy Heauenly face that set me on.
She fals the Sword.
Take vp the Sword againe, or take vp me
   An. Arise Dissembler, though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy Executioner
   Rich. Then bid me kill my selfe, and I will do it
   An. I haue already
   Rich. That was in thy rage:
Speake it againe, and euen with the word,
This hand, which for thy loue, did kill thy Loue,
Shall for thy loue, kill a farre truer Loue,
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary
   An. I would I knew thy heart
   Rich. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue
   An. I feare me, both are false
   Rich. Then neuer Man was true
   An. Well, well, put vp your Sword
   Rich. Say then my Peace is made
   An. That shalt thou know heereafter
   Rich. But shall I liue in hope
   An. All men I hope liue so.
Vouchsafe to weare this Ring
   Rich. Looke how my Ring incompasseth thy Finger,
Euen so thy Brest incloseth my poore heart:
Weare both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poore deuoted Seruant may
But beg one fauour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirme his happinesse for euer
   An. What is it?
  Rich. That it may please you leaue these sad designes,
To him that hath most cause to be a Mourner,
And presently repayre to Crosbie House:
Where (after I haue solemnly interr'd
At Chertsey Monast'ry this Noble King,
And wet his Graue with my Repentant Teares)
I will with all expedient duty see you,
For diuers vnknowne Reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this Boon
   An. With all my heart, and much it ioyes me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Barkley, go along with me
   Rich. Bid me farwell
   An. 'Tis more then you deserue:
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I haue saide farewell already.
Exit two with Anne.
  Gent. Towards Chertsey, Noble Lord?
  Rich. No: to White Friars, there attend my comming
Was euer woman in this humour woo'd?
Was euer woman in this humour wonne?
Ile haue her, but I will not keepe her long.
What? I that kill'd her Husband, and his Father,
To take her in her hearts extreamest hate,
With curses in her mouth, Teares in her eyes,
The bleeding witnesse of my hatred by,
Hauing God, her Conscience, and these bars against me,
And I, no Friends to backe my suite withall,
But the plaine Diuell, and dissembling lookes?
And yet to winne her? All the world to nothing.
Hath she forgot alreadie that braue Prince,
Edward, her Lord, whom I (some three monthes since)
Stab'd in my angry mood, at Tewkesbury?
A sweeter, and a louelier Gentleman,
Fram'd in the prodigallity of Nature:
Yong, Valiant, Wise, and (no doubt) right Royal,
The spacious World cannot againe affoord:
And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
That cropt the Golden prime of this sweet Prince,
And made her Widdow to a wofull Bed?
On me, whose All not equals Edwards Moytie?
On me, that halts, and am mishapen thus?
My Dukedome, to a Beggerly denier!
I do mistake my person all this while:
Vpon my life she findes (although I cannot)
My selfe to be a maru'llous proper man.
Ile be at Charges for a Looking-glasse,
And entertaine a score or two of Taylors,
To study fashions to adorne my body:
Since I am crept in fauour with my selfe,
I will maintaine it with some little cost.
But first Ile turne yon Fellow in his Graue,
And then returne lamenting to my Loue.
Shine out faire Sunne, till I haue bought a glasse,
That I may see my Shadow as I passe.
Scena Tertia.
Enter the Queene Mother, Lord Riuers, and Lord Gray.
  Riu. Haue patience Madam, ther's no doubt his Maiesty
Will soone recouer his accustom'd health
   Gray. In that you brooke it ill, it makes him worse,
Therefore for Gods sake entertaine good comfort,
And cheere his Grace with quicke and merry eyes
  Qu. If he were dead, what would betide on me?
If he were dead, what would betide on me?
  Gray. No other harme, but losse of such a Lord
   Qu. The losse of such a Lord, includes all harmes
   Gray. The Heauens haue blest you with a goodly Son,
To be your Comforter, when he is gone
   Qu. Ah! he is yong; and his minority
Is put vnto the trust of Richard Glouster,
A man that loues not me, nor none of you
   Riu. Is it concluded he shall be Protector?
  Qu. It is determin'd, not concluded yet:
But so it must be, if the King miscarry.
Enter Buckingham and Derby.
  Gray. Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby
   Buc. Good time of day vnto your Royall Grace
   Der. God make your Maiesty ioyful, as you haue bin
  Qu. The Countesse Richmond, good my L[ord]. of Derby.
To your good prayer, will scarsely say, Amen.
Yet Derby, not withstanding shee's your wife,
And loues not me, be you good Lord assur'd,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance
   Der. I do beseech you, either not beleeue
The enuious slanders of her false Accusers:
Or if she be accus'd on true report,
Beare with her weaknesse, which I thinke proceeds
From wayward sicknesse, and no grounded malice
   Qu. Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby
   Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I,
Are come from visiting his Maiesty
   Que. What likelyhood of his amendment Lords
   Buc. Madam good hope, his Grace speaks chearfully
   Qu. God grant him health, did you confer with him?
  Buc. I Madam, he desires to make attonement
Betweene the Duke of Glouster, and your Brothers,
And betweene them, and my Lord Chamberlaine,
And sent to warne them to his Royall presence
   Qu. Would all were well, but that will neuer be,
I feare our happinesse is at the height.
Enter Richard.
  Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not indure it,
Who is it that complaines vnto the King,
That I (forsooth) am sterne, and loue them not?
By holy Paul, they loue his Grace but lightly,
That fill his eares with such dissentious Rumors.
Because I cannot flatter, and looke faire,
Smile in mens faces, smooth, deceiue, and cogge,
Ducke with French nods, and Apish curtesie,
I must be held a rancorous Enemy.
Cannot a plaine man liue, and thinke no harme,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd,
With silken, slye, insinuating Iackes?
  Grey. To who in all this presence speaks your Grace?
  Rich. To thee, that hast nor Honesty, nor Grace:
When haue I iniur'd thee? When done thee wrong?
Or thee? or thee? or any of your Faction?
A plague vpon you all. His Royall Grace
(Whom God preserue better then you would wish)
Cannot be quiet scarse a breathing while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints
   Qu. Brother of Glouster, you mistake the matter:
The King on his owne Royall disposition,
(And not prouok'd by any Sutor else)
Ayming (belike) at your interiour hatred,
That in your outward action shewes it selfe
Against my Children, Brothers, and my Selfe,
Makes him to send, that he may learne the ground
   Rich. I cannot tell, the world is growne so bad,
That Wrens make prey, where Eagles dare not pearch.
Since euerie Iacke became a Gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Iacke
   Qu. Come, come, we know your meaning Brother Gloster
You enuy my aduancement, and my friends:
God grant we neuer may haue neede of you
   Rich. Meane time, God grants that I haue need of you.
Our Brother is imprison'd by your meanes,
My selfe disgrac'd, and the Nobilitie
Held in contempt, while great Promotions
Are daily giuen to ennoble those
That scarse some two dayes since were worth a Noble
   Qu. By him that rais'd me to this carefull height,
From that contented hap which I inioy'd,
I neuer did incense his Maiestie
Against the Duke of Clarence, but haue bin
An earnest aduocate to plead for him.
My Lord you do me shamefull iniurie,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects
   Rich. You may deny that you were not the meane
Of my Lord Hastings late imprisonment
   Riu. She may my Lord, for-
  Rich. She may Lord Riuers, why who knowes not so?
She may do more sir then denying that:
She may helpe you to many faire preferments,
And then deny her ayding hand therein,
And lay those Honors on your high desert.
What may she not, she may, I marry may she
   Riu. What marry may she?
  Ric. What marrie may she? Marrie with a King,
A Batcheller, and a handsome stripling too,
Iwis your Grandam had a worser match
   Qu. My Lord of Glouster, I haue too long borne
Your blunt vpbraidings, and your bitter scoffes:
By heauen, I will acquaint his Maiestie
Of those grosse taunts that oft I haue endur'd.
I had rather be a Countrie seruant maide
Then a great Queene, with this condition,
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at,
Small ioy haue I in being Englands Queene.
Enter old Queene Margaret.
  Mar. And lesned be that small, God I beseech him,
Thy honor, state, and seate, is due to me
   Rich. What? threat you me with telling of the King?
I will auouch't in presence of the King:
I dare aduenture to be sent to th' Towre.
'Tis time to speake,
My paines are quite forgot
   Margaret. Out Diuell,
I do remember them too well:
Thou killd'st my Husband Henrie in the Tower,
And Edward my poore Son, at Tewkesburie
   Rich. Ere you were Queene,
I, or your Husband King:
I was a packe-horse in his great affaires:
A weeder out of his proud Aduersaries,
A liberall rewarder of his Friends,
To royalize his blood, I spent mine owne
   Margaret. I and much better blood
Then his, or thine
   Rich. In all which time, you and your Husband Grey
Were factious, for the House of Lancaster;
And Riuers, so were you: Was not your Husband,
In Margarets Battaile, at Saint Albons, slaine?
Let me put in your mindes, if you forget
What you haue beene ere this, and what you are:
Withall, what I haue beene, and what I am
   Q.M. A murth'rous Villaine, and so still thou art
   Rich. Poore Clarence did forsake his Father Warwicke,
I, and forswore himselfe (which Iesu pardon.)
  Q.M. Which God reuenge
   Rich. To fight on Edwards partie, for the Crowne,
And for his meede, poore Lord, he is mewed vp:
I would to God my heart were Flint, like Edwards,
Or Edwards soft and pittifull, like mine;
I am too childish foolish for this World
   Q.M. High thee to Hell for shame, & leaue this World
Thou Cacodemon, there thy Kingdome is
   Riu. My Lord of Gloster: in those busie dayes,
Which here you vrge, to proue vs Enemies,
We follow'd then our Lord, our Soueraigne King,
So should we you, if you should be our King
   Rich. If I should be? I had rather be a Pedler:
Farre be it from my heart, the thought thereof
   Qu. As little ioy (my Lord) as you suppose
You should enioy, were you this Countries King,
As little ioy you may suppose in me,
That I enioy, being the Queene thereof
   Q.M. A little ioy enioyes the Queene thereof,
For I am shee, and altogether ioylesse:
I can no longer hold me patient.
Heare me, you wrangling Pyrates, that fall out,
In sharing that which you haue pill'd from me:
Which off you trembles not, that lookes on me?
If not, that I am Queene, you bow like Subiects;
Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like Rebells.
Ah gentle Villaine, doe not turne away
   Rich. Foule wrinckled Witch, what mak'st thou in my sight?
  Q.M. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd,
That will I make, before I let thee goe
   Rich. Wert thou not banished, on paine of death?
  Q.M. I was: but I doe find more paine in banishment,
Then death can yeeld me here, by my abode.
A Husband and a Sonne thou ow'st to me,
And thou a Kingdome; all of you, allegeance:
This Sorrow that I haue, by right is yours,
And all the Pleasures you vsurpe, are mine
   Rich. The Curse my Noble Father layd on thee,
When thou didst Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper,
And with thy scornes drew'st Riuers from his eyes,
And then to dry them, gau'st the Duke a Clowt,
Steep'd in the faultlesse blood of prettie Rutland:
His Curses then, from bitternesse of Soule,
Denounc'd against thee, are all falne vpon thee:
And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed
   Qu. So iust is God, to right the innocent
   Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that Babe,
And the most mercilesse, that ere was heard of
   Riu. Tyrants themselues wept when it was reported
   Dors. No man but prophecied reuenge for it
   Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it
   Q.M. What? were you snarling all before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,
And turne you all your hatred now on me?
Did Yorkes dread Curse preuaile so much with Heauen,
That Henries death, my louely Edwards death,
Their Kingdomes losse, my wofull Banishment,
Should all but answer for that peeuish Brat?
Can Curses pierce the Clouds, and enter Heauen?
Why then giue way dull Clouds to my quick Curses.
Though not by Warre, by Surfet dye your King,
As ours by Murther, to make him a King.
Edward thy Sonne, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our Sonne, that was Prince of Wales,
Dye in his youth, by like vntimely violence.
Thy selfe a Queene, for me that was a Queene,
Out-liue thy glory, like my wretched selfe:
Long may'st thou liue, to wayle thy Childrens death,
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy Rights, as thou art stall'd in mine.
Long dye thy happie dayes, before thy death,
And after many length'ned howres of griefe,
Dye neyther Mother, Wife, nor Englands Queene.
Riuers and Dorset, you were standers by,
And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my Sonne
Was stab'd with bloody Daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may liue his naturall age,
But by some vnlook'd accident cut off
   Rich. Haue done thy Charme, y hateful wither'd Hagge
   Q.M. And leaue out thee? stay Dog, for y shalt heare me.
If Heauen haue any grieuous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish vpon thee,
O let them keepe it, till thy sinnes be ripe,
And then hurle downe their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poore Worlds peace.
The Worme of Conscience still begnaw thy Soule,
Thy Friends suspect for Traytors while thou liu'st,
And take deepe Traytors for thy dearest Friends:
No sleepe close vp that deadly Eye of thine,
Vnlesse it be while some tormenting Dreame
Affrights thee with a Hell of ougly Deuills.
Thou eluish mark'd, abortiue rooting Hogge,
Thou that wast seal'd in thy Natiuitie
The slaue of Nature, and the Sonne of Hell:
Thou slander of thy heauie Mothers Wombe,
Thou loathed Issue of thy Fathers Loynes,
Thou Ragge of Honor, thou detested-
  Rich. Margaret
   Q.M. Richard
   Q.M. I call thee not
   Rich. I cry thee mercie then: for I did thinke,
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names
   Q.M. Why so I did, but look'd for no reply.
Oh let me make the Period to my Curse
   Rich. 'Tis done by me and ends in Margaret
   Qu. Thus haue you breath'd your Curse against your self
   Q.M. Poore painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune,
Why strew'st thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider,
Whose deadly Web ensnareth thee about?
Foole, foole, thou whet'st a Knife to kill thy selfe:
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me,
To helpe thee curse this poysonous Bunch-backt Toade
   Hast. False boding Woman, end thy frantick Curse,
Least to thy harme, thou moue our patience
   Q.M. Foule shame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine
   Ri. Were you wel seru'd, you would be taught your duty
   Q.M. To serue me well, you all should do me duty,
Teach me to be your Queene, and you my Subiects:
O serue me well, and teach your selues that duty
   Dors. Dispute not with her, shee is lunaticke
   Q.M. Peace Master Marquesse, you are malapert,
Your fire-new stampe of Honor is scarce currant.
O that your yong Nobility could iudge
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable.
They that stand high, haue many blasts to shake them,
And if they fall, they dash themselues to peeces
   Rich. Good counsaile marry, learne it, learne it Marquesse
   Dor. It touches you my Lord, as much as me
   Rich. I, and much more: but I was borne so high:
Our ayerie buildeth in the Cedars top,
And dallies with the winde, and scornes the Sunne
   Mar. And turnes the Sun to shade: alas, alas,
Witnesse my Sonne, now in the shade of death,
Whose bright out-shining beames, thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternall darknesse folded vp.
Your ayery buildeth in our ayeries Nest:
O God that seest it, do not suffer it,
As it is wonne with blood, lost be it so
   Buc. Peace, peace for shame: If not, for Charity
   Mar. Vrge neither charity, nor shame to me:
Vncharitably with me haue you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes (by you) are butcher'd.
My Charity is outrage, Life my shame,
And in that shame, still liue my sorrowes rage
   Buc. Haue done, haue done
   Mar. O Princely Buckingham, Ile kisse thy hand,
In signe of League and amity with thee:
Now faire befall thee, and thy Noble house:
Thy Garments are not spotted with our blood:
Nor thou within the compasse of my curse
   Buc. Nor no one heere: for Curses neuer passe
The lips of those that breath them in the ayre
   Mar. I will not thinke but they ascend the sky,
And there awake Gods gentle sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, take heede of yonder dogge:
Looke when he fawnes, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle to the death.
Haue not to do with him, beware of him,
Sinne, death, and hell haue set their markes on him,
And all their Ministers attend on him
   Rich. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham
   Buc. Nothing that I respect my gracious Lord
   Mar. What dost thou scorne me
For my gentle counsell?
And sooth the diuell that I warne thee from.
O but remember this another day:
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow:
And say (poore Margaret) was a Prophetesse:
Liue each of you the subiects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to Gods.
  Buc. My haire doth stand an end to heare her curses
   Riu. And so doth mine, I muse why she's at libertie
   Rich. I cannot blame her, by Gods holy mother,
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof, that I haue done to her
   Mar. I neuer did her any to my knowledge
   Rich. Yet you haue all the vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot, to do somebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now:
Marry as for Clarence, he is well repayed:
He is frank'd vp to fatting for his paines,
God pardon them, that are the cause thereof
   Riu. A vertuous, and a Christian-like conclusion
To pray for them that haue done scath to vs
   Rich. So do I euer, being well aduis'd.
Speakes to himselfe.
For had I curst now, I had curst my selfe.
Enter Catesby.
  Cates. Madam, his Maiesty doth call for you,
And for your Grace, and yours my gracious Lord
   Qu. Catesby I come, Lords will you go with mee
   Riu. We wait vpon your Grace.
Exeunt. all but Gloster.
  Rich. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawle.
The secret Mischeefes that I set abroach,
I lay vnto the greeuous charge of others.
Clarence, who I indeede haue cast in darknesse,
I do beweepe to many simple Gulles,
Namely to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham,
And tell them 'tis the Queene, and her Allies,
That stirre the King against the Duke my Brother.
Now they beleeue it, and withall whet me
To be reueng'd on Riuers, Dorset, Grey.
But then I sigh, and with a peece of Scripture,
Tell them that God bids vs do good for euill:
And thus I cloath my naked Villanie
With odde old ends, stolne forth of holy Writ,
And seeme a Saint, when most I play the deuill.
Enter two murtherers.
But soft, heere come my Executioners,
How now my hardy stout resolued Mates,
Are you now going to dispatch this thing?
  Vil. We are my Lord, and come to haue the Warrant,
That we may be admitted where he is
   Ric. Well thought vpon, I haue it heare about me:
When you haue done, repayre to Crosby place;
But sirs be sodaine in the execution,
Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade;
For Clarence is well spoken, and perhappes
May moue your hearts to pitty, if you marke him
   Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not stand to prate,
Talkers are no good dooers, be assur'd:
We go to vse our hands, and not our tongues
   Rich. Your eyes drop Mill-stones, when Fooles eyes
fall Teares:
I like you Lads, about your businesse straight.
Go, go, dispatch
   Vil. We will my Noble Lord.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Clarence and Keeper.
  Keep. Why lookes your Grace so heauily to day
   Cla. O, I haue past a miserable night,
So full of fearefull Dreames, of vgly sights,
That as I am a Christian faithfull man,
I would not spend another such a night
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy daies:
So full of dismall terror was the time
   Keep. What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me
  Cla. Me thoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embark'd to crosse to Burgundy,
And in my company my Brother Glouster,
Who from my Cabin tempted me to walke,
Vpon the Hatches: There we look'd toward England,
And cited vp a thousand heauy times,
During the warres of Yorke and Lancaster
That had befalne vs. As we pac'd along
Vpon the giddy footing of the Hatches,
Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in falling
Strooke me (that thought to stay him) ouer-boord,
Into the tumbling billowes of the maine.
O Lord, me thought what paine it was to drowne,
What dreadfull noise of water in mine eares,
What sights of vgly death within mine eyes.
Me thoughts, I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes:
A thousand men that Fishes gnaw'd vpon:
Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle,
Inestimable Stones, vnvalewed Iewels,
All scattred in the bottome of the Sea,
Some lay in dead-mens Sculles, and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 'twere in scorne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes,
That woo'd the slimy bottome of the deepe,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattred by
   Keep. Had you such leysure in the time of death
To gaze vpon these secrets of the deepe?
  Cla. Me thought I had, and often did I striue
To yeeld the Ghost: but still the enuious Flood
Stop'd in my soule, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring ayre:
But smother'd it within my panting bulke,
Who almost burst, to belch it in the Sea
   Keep. Awak'd you not in this sore Agony?
  Clar. No, no, my Dreame was lengthen'd after life.
O then, began the Tempest to my Soule.
I past (me thought) the Melancholly Flood,
With that sowre Ferry-man which Poets write of,
Vnto the Kingdome of perpetuall Night.
The first that there did greet my Stranger-soule,
Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwicke,
Who spake alowd: What scourge for Periurie,
Can this darke Monarchy affoord false Clarence?
And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by,
A Shadow like an Angell, with bright hayre
Dabbel'd in blood, and he shriek'd out alowd
Clarence is come, false, fleeting, periur'd Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury:
Seize on him Furies, take him vnto Torment.
With that (me thought) a Legion of foule Fiends
Inuiron'd me, and howled in mine eares
Such hiddeous cries, that with the very Noise,
I (trembling) wak'd, and for a season after,
Could not beleeue, but that I was in Hell,
Such terrible Impression made my Dreame
   Keep. No maruell Lord, though it affrighted you,
I am affraid (me thinkes) to heare you tell it
   Cla. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I haue done these things
(That now giue euidence against my Soule)
For Edwards sake, and see how he requits mee.
O God! if my deepe prayres cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be aueng'd on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath in me alone:
O spare my guiltlesse Wife, and my poore children.
Keeper, I prythee sit by me a-while,
My Soule is heauy, and I faine would sleepe
   Keep. I will my Lord, God giue your Grace good rest.
Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.
  Bra. Sorrow breakes Seasons, and reposing houres,
Makes the Night Morning, and the Noon-tide night:
Princes haue but their Titles for their Glories,
An outward Honor, for an inward Toyle,
And for vnfelt Imaginations
They often feele a world of restlesse Cares:
So that betweene their Titles, and low Name,
There's nothing differs, but the outward fame.
Enter two Murtherers.
  1.Mur. Ho, who's heere?
  Bra. What would'st thou Fellow? And how camm'st
   2.Mur. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither
on my Legges
   Bra. What so breefe?
  1. 'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious:
Let him see our Commission, and talke no more.
  Bra. I am in this, commanded to deliuer
The Noble Duke of Clarence to your hands.
I will not reason what is meant heereby,
Because I will be guiltlesse from the meaning.
There lies the Duke asleepe, and there the Keyes.
Ile to the King, and signifie to him,
That thus I haue resign'd to you my charge.
  1 You may sir, 'tis a point of wisedome:
Far you well
   2 What, shall we stab him as he sleepes
   1 No: hee'l say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes
  2 Why he shall neuer wake, vntill the great Iudgement
   1 Why then hee'l say, we stab'd him sleeping
   2 The vrging of that word Iudgement, hath bred a
kinde of remorse in me
   1 What? art thou affraid?
  2 Not to kill him, hauing a Warrant,
But to be damn'd for killing him, from the which
No Warrant can defend me
   1 I thought thou had'st bin resolute
   2 So I am, to let him liue
   1 Ile backe to the Duke of Glouster, and tell him so
   2 Nay, I prythee stay a little:
I hope this passionate humor of mine, will change,
It was wont to hold me but while one tels twenty
   1 How do'st thou feele thy selfe now?
  2 Some certaine dregges of conscience are yet within
   1 Remember our Reward, when the deed's done
   2 Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward
   1 Where's thy conscience now
   2 O, in the Duke of Glousters purse
   1 When hee opens his purse to giue vs our Reward,
thy Conscience flyes out
   2 'Tis no matter, let it goe: There's few or none will
entertaine it
   1 What if it come to thee againe?
  2 Ile not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward:
A man cannot steale, but it accuseth him: A man cannot
Sweare, but it Checkes him: A man cannot lye with his
Neighbours Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing
shamefac'd spirit, that mutinies in a mans bosome: It
filles a man full of Obstacles. It made me once restore a
Pursse of Gold that (by chance) I found: It beggars any
man that keepes it: It is turn'd out of Townes and Citties
for a dangerous thing, and euery man that means to
liue well, endeuours to trust to himselfe, and liue without
   1 'Tis euen now at my elbow, perswading me not to
kill the Duke
   2 Take the diuell in thy minde, and beleeue him not:
He would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh
   1 I am strong fram'd, he cannot preuaile with me
   2 Spoke like a tall man, that respects thy reputation.
Come, shall we fall to worke?
  1 Take him on the Costard, with the hiltes of thy
Sword, and then throw him into the Malmesey-Butte in
the next roome
   2 O excellent deuice; and make a sop of him
   1 Soft, he wakes
   1 No, wee'l reason with him
   Cla. Where art thou Keeper? Giue me a cup of wine
   2 You shall haue Wine enough my Lord anon
   Cla. In Gods name, what art thou?
  1 A man, as you are
   Cla. But not as I am Royall
   1 Nor you as we are, Loyall
   Cla. Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble
   1 My voice is now the Kings, my lookes mine owne
   Cla. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speake?
Your eyes do menace me: why looke you pale?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
  2 To, to, to-
  Cla. To murther me?
  Both. I, I
   Cla. You scarsely haue the hearts to tell me so,
And therefore cannot haue the hearts to do it.
Wherein my Friends haue I offended you?
  1 Offended vs you haue not, but the King
   Cla. I shall be reconcil'd to him againe
   2 Neuer my Lord, therefore prepare to dye
   Cla. Are you drawne forth among a world of men
To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where is the Euidence that doth accuse me?
What lawfull Quest haue giuen their Verdict vp
Vnto the frowning Iudge? Or who pronounc'd
The bitter sentence of poore Clarence death,
Before I be conuict by course of Law?
To threaten me with death, is most vnlawfull.
I charge you, as you hope for any goodnesse,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me:
The deed you vndertake is damnable
   1 What we will do, we do vpon command
   2 And he that hath commanded, is our King
   Cla. Erroneous Vassals, the great King of Kings
Hath in the Table of his Law commanded
That thou shalt do no murther. Will you then
Spurne at his Edict, and fulfill a Mans?
Take heed: for he holds Vengeance in his hand,
To hurle vpon their heads that breake his Law
   2 And that same Vengeance doth he hurle on thee,
For false Forswearing, and for murther too:
Thou did'st receiue the Sacrament, to fight
In quarrell of the House of Lancaster
   1 And like a Traitor to the name of God,
Did'st breake that Vow, and with thy treacherous blade,
Vnrip'st the Bowels of thy Sou'raignes Sonne
   2 Whom thou was't sworne to cherish and defend
   1 How canst thou vrge Gods dreadfull Law to vs,
When thou hast broke it in such deere degree?
  Cla. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deede?
For Edward, for my Brother, for his sake.
He sends you not to murther me for this:
For in that sinne, he is as deepe as I.
If God will be auenged for the deed,
O know you yet, he doth it publiquely,
Take not the quarrell from his powrefull arme:
He needs no indirect, or lawlesse course,
To cut off those that haue offended him
   1 Who made thee then a bloudy minister,
When gallant springing braue Plantagenet,
That Princely Nouice was strucke dead by thee?
  Cla. My Brothers loue, the Diuell, and my Rage
   1 Thy Brothers Loue, our Duty, and thy Faults,
Prouoke vs hither now, to slaughter thee
   Cla. If you do loue my Brother, hate not me:
I am his Brother, and I loue him well.
If you are hyr'd for meed, go backe againe,
And I will send you to my Brother Glouster:
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Then Edward will for tydings of my death
   2 You are deceiu'd,
Your Brother Glouster hates you
   Cla. Oh no, he loues me, and he holds me deere:
Go you to him from me
   1 I so we will
   Cla. Tell him, when that our Princely Father Yorke,
Blest his three Sonnes with his victorious Arme,
He little thought of this diuided Friendship:
Bid Glouster thinke on this, and he will weepe
   1 I Milstones, as he lessoned vs to weepe
   Cla. O do not slander him, for he is kinde
   1 Right, as Snow in Haruest:
Come, you deceiue your selfe,
'Tis he that sends vs to destroy you heere
   Cla. It cannot be, for he bewept my Fortune,
And hugg'd me in his armes, and swore with sobs,
That he would labour my deliuery
   1 Why so he doth, when he deliuers you
From this earths thraldome, to the ioyes of heauen
   2 Make peace with God, for you must die my Lord
   Cla. Haue you that holy feeling in your soules,
To counsaile me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your owne soules so blinde,
That you will warre with God, by murd'ring me.
O sirs consider, they that set you on
To do this deede will hate you for the deede
   2 What shall we do?
  Clar. Relent, and saue your soules:
Which of you, if you were a Princes Sonne,
Being pent from Liberty, as I am now,
If two such murtherers as your selues came to you,
Would not intreat for life, as you would begge
Were you in my distresse
   1 Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womanish
   Cla. Not to relent, is beastly, sauage, diuellish:
My Friend, I spy some pitty in thy lookes:
O, if thine eye be not a Flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and intreate for mee,
A begging Prince, what begger pitties not
   2 Looke behinde you, my Lord
   1 Take that, and that, if all this will not do,
Ile drowne you in the MalmeseyBut within.
  2 A bloody deed, and desperately dispatcht:
How faine (like Pilate) would I wash my hands
Of this most greeuous murther.
Enter 1.Murtherer]
  1 How now? what mean'st thou that thou help'st me
not? By Heauen the Duke shall know how slacke you
   2.Mur. I would he knew that I had sau'd his brother,
Take thou the Fee, and tell him what I say,
For I repent me that the Duke is slaine.
  1.Mur. So do not I: go Coward as thou art.
Well, Ile go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the Duke giue order for his buriall:
And when I haue my meede, I will away,
For this will out, and then I must not stay.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the King sicke, the Queene, Lord Marquesse Dorset, Riuers,
Catesby, Buckingham, Wooduill.
  King. Why so: now haue I done a good daies work.
You Peeres, continue this vnited League:
I, euery day expect an Embassage
From my Redeemer, to redeeme me hence.
And more to peace my soule shall part to heauen,
Since I haue made my Friends at peace on earth.
Dorset and Riuers, take each others hand,
Dissemble not your hatred, Sweare your loue
   Riu. By heauen, my soule is purg'd from grudging hate
And with my hand I seale my true hearts Loue
   Hast. So thriue I, as I truly sweare the like
   King. Take heed you dally not before your King,
Lest he that is the supreme King of Kings
Confound your hidden falshood, and award
Either of you to be the others end
   Hast. So prosper I, as I sweare perfect loue
   Ri. And I, as I loue Hastings with my heart,
  King. Madam, your selfe is not exempt from this:
Nor you Sonne Dorset, Buckingham nor you;
You haue bene factious one against the other.
Wife, loue Lord Hastings, let him kisse your hand,
And what you do, do it vnfeignedly
   Qu. There Hastings, I will neuer more remember
Our former hatred, so thriue I, and mine
   King. Dorset, imbrace him:
Hastings, loue Lord Marquesse
   Dor. This interchange of loue, I heere protest
Vpon my part, shall be inuiolable
   Hast. And so sweare I
   King. Now Princely Buckingham, seale y this league
With thy embracements to my wiues Allies,
And make me happy in your vnity
   Buc. When euer Buckingham doth turne his hate
Vpon your Grace, but with all dutious loue,
Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most loue,
When I haue most need to imploy a Friend,
And most assured that he is a Friend,
Deepe, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he vnto me: This do I begge of heauen,
When I am cold in loue, to you, or yours.
  King. A pleasing Cordiall, Princely Buckingham
Is this thy Vow, vnto my sickely heart:
There wanteth now our Brother Gloster heere,
To make the blessed period of this peace
   Buc. And in good time,
Heere comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and the Duke.
Enter Ratcliffe, and Gloster.
  Rich. Good morrow to my Soueraigne King & Queen
And Princely Peeres, a happy time of day
   King. Happy indeed, as we haue spent the day:
Gloster, we haue done deeds of Charity,
Made peace of enmity, faire loue of hate,
Betweene these swelling wrong incensed Peeres
   Rich. A blessed labour my most Soueraigne Lord:
Among this Princely heape, if any heere
By false intelligence, or wrong surmize
Hold me a Foe: If I vnwillingly, or in my rage,
Haue ought committed that is hardly borne,
To any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his Friendly peace:
'Tis death to me to be at enmitie:
I hate it, and desire all good mens loue,
First Madam, I intreate true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my dutious seruice.
Of you my Noble Cosin Buckingham,
If euer any grudge were lodg'd betweene vs.
Of you and you, Lord Riuers and of Dorset,
That all without desert haue frown'd on me:
Of you Lord Wooduill, and Lord Scales of you,
Dukes, Earles, Lords, Gentlemen, indeed of all.
I do not know that Englishman aliue,
With whom my soule is any iot at oddes,
More then the Infant that is borne to night:
I thanke my God for my Humility
   Qu. A holy day shall this be kept heereafter:
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My Soueraigne Lord, I do beseech your Highnesse
To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace
   Rich. Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this,
To be so flowted in this Royall presence?
Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?
They all start.
You do him iniurie to scorne his Coarse
   King. Who knowes not he is dead?
Who knowes he is?
  Qu. All-seeing heauen, what a world is this?
  Buc. Looke I so pale Lord Dorset, as the rest?
  Dor. I my good Lord, and no man in the presence,
But his red colour hath forsooke his cheekes
   King. Is Clarence dead? The Order was reuerst
   Rich. But he (poore man) by your first order dyed,
And that a winged Mercurie did beare:
Some tardie Cripple bare the Countermand,
That came too lagge to see him buried.
God grant, that some lesse Noble, and lesse Loyall,
Neerer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,
Deserue not worse then wretched Clarence did,
And yet go currant from Suspition.
Enter Earle of Derby.
  Der. A boone my Soueraigne for my seruice done
   King. I prethee peace, my soule is full of sorrow
   Der. I will not rise, vnlesse your Highnes heare me
   King. Then say at once, what is it thou requests
   Der. The forfeit (Soueraigne) of my seruants life,
Who slew to day a Riotous Gentleman,
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolke
   King. Haue I a tongue to doome my Brothers death?
And shall that tongue giue pardon to a slaue?
My Brother kill'd no man, his fault was Thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath)
Kneel'd and my feet, and bid me be aduis'd?
Who spoke of Brother-hood? who spoke of loue?
Who told me how the poore soule did forsake
The mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me?
Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury,
When Oxford had me downe, he rescued me:
And said deare Brother liue, and be a King?
Who told me, when we both lay in the Field,
Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap me
Euen in his Garments, and did giue himselfe
(All thin and naked) to the numbe cold night?
All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath
Sinfully pluckt, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my minde.
But when your Carters, or your wayting Vassalls
Haue done a drunken Slaughter, and defac'd
The precious Image of our deere Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon,
And I (vniustly too) must grant it you.
But for my Brother, not a man would speake,
Nor I (vngracious) speake vnto my selfe
For him poore Soule. The proudest of you all,
Haue bin beholding to him in his life:
Yet none of you, would once begge for his life.
O God! I feare thy iustice will take hold
On me, and you; and mine, and yours for this.
Come Hastings helpe me to my Closset.
Ah poore Clarence.
Exeunt. some with K[ing]. & Queen.
  Rich. This is the fruits of rashnes: Markt you not,
How that the guilty Kindred of the Queene
Look'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death.
O! they did vrge it still vnto the King,
God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go,
To comfort Edward with our company
   Buc. We wait vpon your Grace.
Scena Secunda.
Enter the old Dutchesse of Yorke, with the two children of
  Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead?
  Dutch. No Boy
   Daugh. Why do weepe so oft? And beate your Brest?
And cry, O Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne
   Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head,
And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Castawayes,
If that our Noble Father were aliue?
  Dut. My pretty Cosins, you mistake me both,
I do lament the sicknesse of the King,
As loath to lose him, not your Fathers death:
It were lost sorrow to waile one that's lost
   Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead:
The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it.
God will reuenge it, whom I will importune
With earnest prayers, all to that effect
   Daugh. And so will I
   Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel.
Incapeable, and shallow Innocents,
You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death
   Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster
Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene,
Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him;
And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept,
And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke:
Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,
And he would loue me deerely as a childe
   Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape,
And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice.
He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame,
Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit
   Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam?
  Dut. I Boy
   Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this?
Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset
  Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe?
To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe.
Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule,
And to my selfe, become an enemie
   Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience?
  Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence.
Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead.
Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone?
Why wither not the leaues that want their sap?
If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe,
That our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings,
Or like obedient Subiects follow him,
To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night
   Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow,
As I had Title in thy Noble Husband:
I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death,
And liu'd with looking on his Images:
But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance,
Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death,
And I for comfort, haue but one false Glasse,
That greeues me, when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother,
And hast the comfort of thy Children left,
But death hath snatch'd my Husband from mine Armes,
And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I,
(Thine being but a moity of my moane)
To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries
   Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death:
How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares?
  Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoan'd,
Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept
   Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth complaints:
All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone,
May send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World.
Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward
   Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence
   Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence
   Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone?
  Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone
   Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone
   Qu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losse
   Chil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse
   Dut. Was neuer Mother had so deere a losse.
Alas! I am the Mother of these Greefes,
Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall.
She for an Edward weepes, and so do I:
I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not shee:
These Babes for Clarence weepe, so do not they.
Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest:
Power all your teares, I am your sorrowes Nurse,
And I will pamper it with Lamentation
   Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much displeas'd,
That you take with vnthankfulnesse his doing.
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull,
With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent:
Much more to be thus opposite with heauen,
For it requires the Royall debt it lent you
   Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother
Of the young Prince your sonne: send straight for him,
Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues.
Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue,
And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne.
Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.
  Rich. Sister haue comfort, all of vs haue cause
To waile the dimming of our shining Starre:
But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them.
Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie,
I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee,
I craue your Blessing
   Dut. God blesse thee, and put meeknes in thy breast,
Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie
   Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man,
That is the butt-end of a Mothers blessing;
I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out
   Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres,
That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane,
Now cheere each other, in each others Loue:
Though we haue spent our Haruest of this King,
We are to reape the Haruest of his Sonne.
The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates,
But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together,
Must gently be preseru'd, cherisht, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that with some little Traine,
Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set
Hither to London, to be crown'd our King
   Riuers. Why with some little Traine,
My Lord of Buckingham?
  Buc. Marrie my Lord, least by a multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of Malice should breake out,
Which would be so much the more dangerous,
By how much the estate is greene, and yet vngouern'd.
Where euery Horse beares his commanding Reine,
And may direct his course as please himselfe,
As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant,
In my opinion, ought to be preuented
   Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs,
And the compact is firme, and true in me
   Riu. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all.
Yet since it is but greene, it should be put
To no apparant likely-hood of breach,
Which haply by much company might be vrg'd:
Therefore I say with Noble Buckingham,
That it is meete so few should fetch the Prince
   Hast. And so say I
   Rich. Then be it so, and go we to determine
Who they shall be that strait shall poste to London.
Madam, and you my Sister, will you go
To giue your censures in this businesse.
Manet Buckingham, and Richard.
  Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince,
For God sake let not vs two stay at home:
For by the way, Ile sort occasion,
As Index to the story we late talk'd of,
To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince
   Rich. My other selfe, my Counsailes Consistory,
My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cosin,
I, as a childe, will go by thy direction,
Toward London then, for wee'l not stay behinde.
Scena Tertia.
Enter one Citizen at one doore, and another at the other.
  1.Cit. Good morrow Neighbour, whether away so
  2.Cit. I promise you, I scarsely know my selfe:
Heare you the newes abroad?
  1. Yes, that the King is dead
   2. Ill newes byrlady, seldome comes the better:
I feare, I feare, 'twill proue a giddy world.
Enter another Citizen.
  3. Neighbours, God speed
   1. Giue you good morrow sir
   3. Doth the newes hold of good king Edwards death?
  2. I sir, it is too true, God helpe the while
   3. Then Masters looke to see a troublous world
   1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son shall reigne
   3. Woe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe
   2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment,
Which in his nonage, counsell vnder him,
And in his full and ripened yeares, himselfe
No doubt shall then, and till then gouerne well
   1. So stood the State, when Henry the sixt
Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine months old
   3. Stood the State so? No, no, good friends, God wot
For then this Land was famously enrich'd
With politike graue Counsell; then the King
Had vertuous Vnkles to protect his Grace
   1. Why so hath this, both by his Father and Mother
   3. Better it were they all came by his Father:
Or by his Father there were none at all:
For emulation, who shall now be neerest,
Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not.
O full of danger is the Duke of Glouster,
And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This sickly Land, might solace as before
   1. Come, come, we feare the worst: all will be well
   3. When Clouds are seen, wisemen put on their clokes;
When great leaues fall, then Winter is at hand;
When the Sun sets, who doth not looke for night?
Vntimely stormes, makes men expect a Dearth:
All may be well; but if God sort it so,
'Tis more then we deserue, or I expect
   2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of feare:
You cannot reason (almost) with a man,
That lookes not heauily, and full of dread
   3. Before the dayes of Change, still is it so,
By a diuine instinct, mens mindes mistrust
Pursuing danger: as by proofe we see
The Water swell before a boyst'rous storme:
But leaue it all to God. Whither away?
  2 Marry we were sent for to the Iustices
   3 And so was I: Ile beare you company.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Arch-bishop, yong Yorke, the Queene, and the Dutchesse.
  Arch. Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford,
And at Northampton they do rest to night:
To morrow, or next day, they will be heere
   Dut. I long with all my heart to see the Prince:
I hope he is much growne since last I saw him
   Qu. But I heare no, they say my sonne of Yorke
Ha's almost ouertane him in his growth
   Yorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it so
   Dut. Why my good Cosin, it is good to grow
   Yor. Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper,
My Vnkle Riuers talk'd how I did grow
More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouster,
Small Herbes haue grace, great Weeds do grow apace.
And since, me thinkes I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet Flowres are slow, and Weeds make hast
   Dut. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
In him that did obiect the same to thee.
He was the wretched'st thing when he was yong,
So long a growing, and so leysurely,
That if his rule were true, he should be gracious
   Yor. And so no doubt he is, my gracious Madam
   Dut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt
   Yor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred,
I could haue giuen my Vnkles Grace, a flout,
To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine
   Dut. How my yong Yorke,
I prythee let me heare it
   Yor. Marry (they say) my Vnkle grew so fast,
That he could gnaw a crust at two houres old,
'Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Iest
   Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this?
  Yor. Grandam, his Nursse
   Dut. His Nurse? why she was dead, ere y wast borne
   Yor. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me
   Qu. A parlous Boy: go too, you are too shrew'd
   Dut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe
   Qu. Pitchers haue eares.
Enter a Messenger.
  Arch. Heere comes a Messenger: What Newes?
  Mes. Such newes my Lord, as greeues me to report
   Qu. How doth the Prince?
  Mes. Well Madam, and in health
   Dut. What is thy Newes?
  Mess. Lord Riuers, and Lord Grey,
Are sent to Pomfret, and with them,
Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners
   Dut. Who hath committed them?
  Mes. The mighty Dukes, Glouster and Buckingham
   Arch. For what offence?
  Mes. The summe of all I can, I haue disclos'd:
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,
Is all vnknowne to me, my gracious Lord
   Qu. Aye me! I see the ruine of my House:
The Tyger now hath seiz'd the gentle Hinde,
Insulting Tiranny beginnes to Iutt
Vpon the innocent and awelesse Throne:
Welcome Destruction, Blood, and Massacre,
I see (as in a Map) the end of all
   Dut. Accursed, and vnquiet wrangling dayes,
How many of you haue mine eyes beheld?
My Husband lost his life, to get the Crowne,
And often vp and downe my sonnes were tost
For me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and losse.
And being seated, and Domesticke broyles
Cleane ouer-blowne, themselues the Conquerors,
Make warre vpon themselues, Brother to Brother;
Blood to blood, selfe against selfe: O prepostorous
And franticke outrage, end thy damned spleene,
Or let me dye, to looke on earth no more
   Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary.
Madam, farwell
   Dut. Stay, I will go with you
   Qu. You haue no cause
   Arch. My gracious Lady go,
And thether beare your Treasure and your Goodes,
For my part, Ile resigne vnto your Grace
The Seale I keepe, and so betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.
Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
The Trumpets sound.
Enter yong Prince, the Dukes of Glocester, and Buckingham, Lord
with others.
  Buc. Welcome sweete Prince to London,
To your Chamber
   Rich. Welcome deere Cosin, my thoughts Soueraign
The wearie way hath made you Melancholly
   Prin. No Vnkle, but our crosses on the way,
Haue made it tedious, wearisome, and heauie.
I want more Vnkles heere to welcome me
   Rich. Sweet Prince, the vntainted vertue of your yeers
Hath not yet diu'd into the Worlds deceit:
No more can you distinguish of a man,
Then of his outward shew, which God he knowes,
Seldome or neuer iumpeth with the heart.
Those Vnkles which you want, were dangerous:
Your Grace attended to their Sugred words,
But look'd not on the poyson of their hearts:
God keepe you from them, and from such false Friends
   Prin. God keepe me from false Friends,
But they were none
   Rich. My Lord, the Maior of London comes to greet
Enter Lord Maior.
  Lo.Maior. God blesse your Grace, with health and
happie dayes
   Prin. I thanke you, good my Lord, and thank you all:
I thought my Mother, and my Brother Yorke,
Would long, ere this, haue met vs on the way.
Fie, what a Slug is Hastings, that he comes not
To tell vs, whether they will come, or no.
Enter Lord Hastings.
  Buck. And in good time, heere comes the sweating
   Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother
  Hast. On what occasion God he knowes, not I;
The Queene your Mother, and your Brother Yorke,
Haue taken Sanctuarie: The tender Prince
Would faine haue come with me, to meet your Grace,
But by his Mother was perforce with-held
   Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peeuish course
Is this of hers? Lord Cardinall, will your Grace
Perswade the Queene, to send the Duke of Yorke
Vnto his Princely Brother presently?
If she denie, Lord Hastings goe with him,
And from her iealous Armes pluck him perforce
   Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weake Oratorie
Can from his Mother winne the Duke of Yorke,
Anon expect him here: but if she be obdurate
To milde entreaties, God forbid
We should infringe the holy Priuiledge
Of blessed Sanctuarie: not for all this Land,
Would I be guiltie of so great a sinne
   Buck. You are too sencelesse obstinate, my Lord,
Too ceremonious, and traditionall.
Weigh it but with the grossenesse of this Age,
You breake not Sanctuarie, in seizing him:
The benefit thereof is alwayes granted
To those, whose dealings haue deseru'd the place,
And those who haue the wit to clayme the place:
This Prince hath neyther claym'd it, nor deseru'd it,
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot haue it.
Then taking him from thence, that is not there,
You breake no Priuiledge, nor Charter there:
Oft haue I heard of Sanctuarie men,
But Sanctuarie children, ne're till now
   Card. My Lord, you shall o're-rule my mind for once.
Come on, Lord Hastings, will you goe with me?
  Hast. I goe, my Lord.
Exit Cardinall and Hastings.
  Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedie hast you may.
Say, Vnckle Glocester, if our Brother come,
Where shall we soiourne, till our Coronation?
  Glo. Where it think'st best vnto your Royall selfe.
If I may counsaile you, some day or two
Your Highnesse shall repose you at the Tower:
Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit
For your best health, and recreation
   Prince. I doe not like the Tower, of any place:
Did Iulius Cæsar build that place, my Lord?
  Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place,
Which since, succeeding Ages haue re-edify'd
   Prince. Is it vpon record? or else reported
Successiuely from age to age, he built it?
  Buck. Vpon record, my gracious Lord
   Prince. But say, my Lord, it were not registred,
Me thinkes the truth should liue from age to age,
As 'twere retayl'd to all posteritie,
Euen to the generall ending day
   Glo. So wise, so young, they say doe neuer liue long
   Prince. What say you, Vnckle?
  Glo. I say, without Characters, Fame liues long.
Thus, like the formall Vice, Iniquitie,
I morallize two meanings in one word
   Prince. That Iulius Cæsar was a famous man,
With what his Valour did enrich his Wit,
His Wit set downe, to make his Valour liue:
Death makes no Conquest of his Conqueror,
For now he liues in Fame, though not in Life.
Ile tell you what, my Cousin Buckingham
   Buck. What, my gracious Lord?
  Prince. And if I liue vntill I be a man,
Ile win our ancient Right in France againe,
Or dye a Souldier, as I liu'd a King
   Glo. Short Summers lightly haue a forward Spring.
Enter young Yorke, Hastings, and Cardinall.
  Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of
   Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble Brother?
  Yorke. Well, my deare Lord, so must I call you now
   Prince. I, Brother, to our griefe, as it is yours:
Too late he dy'd, that might haue kept that Title,
Which by his death hath lost much Maiestie
   Glo. How fares our Cousin, Noble Lord of Yorke?
  Yorke. I thanke you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord,
You said, that idle Weeds are fast in growth:
The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre
   Glo. He hath, my Lord
   Yorke. And therefore is he idle?
  Glo. Oh my faire Cousin, I must not say so
   Yorke. Then he is more beholding to you, then I
   Glo. He may command me as my Soueraigne,
But you haue power in me, as in a Kinsman
   Yorke. I pray you, Vnckle, giue me this Dagger
   Glo. My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my heart
   Prince. A Begger, Brother?
  Yorke. Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will giue,
And being but a Toy, which is no griefe to giue
   Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my Cousin
   Yorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it
   Glo. I, gentle Cousin, were it light enough
   Yorke. O then I see, you will part but with light gifts,
In weightier things you'le say a Begger nay
   Glo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weare
   Yorke. I weigh it lightly, were it heauier
   Glo. What, would you haue my Weapon, little Lord?
  Yorke. I would that I might thanke you, as, as, you
   Glo. How?
  Yorke. Little
   Prince. My Lord of Yorke will still be crosse in talke:
Vnckle, your Grace knowes how to beare with him
   Yorke. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me:
Vnckle, my Brother mockes both you and me,
Because that I am little, like an Ape,
He thinkes that you should beare me on your shoulders
   Buck. With what a sharpe prouided wit he reasons:
To mittigate the scorne he giues his Vnckle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himselfe:
So cunning, and so young, is wonderfull
   Glo. My Lord, wilt please you passe along?
My selfe, and my good Cousin Buckingham,
Will to your Mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you
   Yorke. what, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord?
  Prince. My Lord Protector will haue it so
   Yorke. I shall not sleepe in quiet at the Tower
   Glo. Why, what should you feare?
  Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost:
My Grandam told me he was murther'd there
   Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead
   Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope
   Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare.
But come my Lord: and with a heauie heart,
Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.
A Senet. Exeunt Prince, Yorke, Hastings, and Dorset.
Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.
  Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke
Was not incensed by his subtile Mother,
To taunt and scorne you thus opprobriously?
  Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a perillous Boy,
Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable:
Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe
   Buck. Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby,
Thou art sworne as deepely to effect what we intend,
As closely to conceale what we impart:
Thou know'st our reasons vrg'd vpon the way.
What think'st thou? is it not an easie matter,
To make William Lord Hastings of our minde,
For the installment of this Noble Duke
In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile?
  Cates. He for his fathers sake so loues the Prince,
That he will not be wonne to ought against him
   Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will
  Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Hastings doth
   Buck. Well then, no more but this:
Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off,
Sound thou Lord Hastings,
How he doth stand affected to our purpose,
And summon him to morrow to the Tower,
To sit about the Coronation.
If thou do'st finde him tractable to vs,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons:
If he be leaden, ycie, cold, vnwilling,
Be thou so too, and so breake off the talke,
And giue vs notice of his inclination:
For we to morrow hold diuided Councels,
Wherein thy selfe shalt highly be employ'd
   Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him Catesby,
His ancient Knot of dangerous Aduersaries
To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle,
And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes,
Giue Mistresse Shore one gentle Kisse the more
   Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this businesse soundly
   Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can
   Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe?
  Cates. You shall, my Lord
   Rich. At Crosby House, there shall you find vs both.
Exit Catesby.
  Buck. Now, my Lord,
What shall wee doe, if wee perceiue
Lord Hastings will not yeeld to our Complots?
  Rich. Chop off his Head:
Something wee will determine:
And looke when I am King, clayme thou of me
The Earledome of Hereford, and all the moueables
Whereof the King, my Brother, was possest
   Buck. Ile clayme that promise at your Graces hand
   Rich. And looke to haue it yeelded with all kindnesse.
Come, let vs suppe betimes, that afterwards
Wee may digest our complots in some forme.
Scena Secunda.
Enter a Messenger to the Doore of Hastings.
  Mess. My Lord, my Lord
   Hast. Who knockes?
  Mess. One from the Lord Stanley
   Hast. What is't a Clocke?
  Mess. Vpon the stroke of foure.
Enter Lord Hastings.
  Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleepe these tedious
  Mess. So it appeares, by that I haue to say:
First, he commends him to your Noble selfe
   Hast. What then?
  Mess. Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night
He dreamt, the Bore had rased off his Helme:
Besides, he sayes there are two Councels kept;
And that may be determin'd at the one,
Which may make you and him to rue at th' other.
Therefore he sends to know your Lordships pleasure,
If you will presently take Horse with him,
And with all speed post with him toward the North,
To shun the danger that his Soule diuines
   Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord,
Bid him not feare the seperated Councell:
His Honor and my selfe are at the one,
And at the other, is my good friend Catesby;
Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth vs,
Whereof I shall not haue intelligence:
Tell him his Feares are shallow, without instance.
And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's so simple,
To trust the mock'ry of vnquiet slumbers.
To flye the Bore, before the Bore pursues,
Were to incense the Bore to follow vs,
And make pursuit, where he did meane no chase.
Goe, bid thy Master rise, and come to me,
And we will both together to the Tower,
Where he shall see the Bore will vse vs kindly
   Mess. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you say.
Enter Catesby.
  Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord
   Hast. Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring:
What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State?
  Cates. It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord:
And I beleeue will neuer stand vpright,
Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme
   Hast. How weare the Garland?
Doest thou meane the Crowne?
  Cates. I, my good Lord
   Hast. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut fro[m] my shoulders,
Before Ile see the Crowne so foule mis-plac'd:
But canst thou guesse, that he doth ayme at it?
  Cates. I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward,
Vpon his partie, for the gaine thereof:
And thereupon he sends you this good newes,
That this same very day your enemies,
The Kindred of the Queene, must dye at Pomfret
   Hast. Indeed I am no mourner for that newes,
Because they haue beene still my aduersaries:
But, that Ile giue my voice on Richards side,
To barre my Masters Heires in true Descent,
God knowes I will not doe it, to the death
   Cates. God keepe your Lordship in that gracious
   Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelue-month hence,
That they which brought me in my Masters hate,
I liue to looke vpon their Tragedie.
Well Catesby, ere a fort-night make me older,
Ile send some packing, that yet thinke not on't
   Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord,
When men are vnprepar'd, and looke not for it
   Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
With Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doe
With some men else, that thinke themselues as safe
As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare
To Princely Richard, and to Buckingham
   Cates. The Princes both make high account of you,
For they account his Head vpon the Bridge
   Hast. I know they doe, and I haue well deseru'd it.
Enter Lord Stanley.
Come on, come on, where is your Bore-speare man?
Feare you the Bore, and goe so vnprouided?
  Stan. My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby:
You may ieast on, but by the holy Rood,
I doe not like these seuerall Councels, I
   Hast. My Lord, I hold my Life as deare as yours,
And neuer in my dayes, I doe protest,
Was it so precious to me, as 'tis now:
Thinke you, but that I know our state secure,
I would be so triumphant as I am?
  Sta. The Lords at Pomfret, whe[n] they rode from London,
Were iocund, and suppos'd their states were sure,
And they indeed had no cause to mistrust:
But yet you see, how soone the Day o're-cast.
This sudden stab of Rancour I misdoubt:
Pray God (I say) I proue a needlesse Coward.
What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent
   Hast. Come, come, haue with you:
Wot you what, my Lord,
To day the Lords you talke of, are beheaded
   Sta. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads,
Then some that haue accus'd them, weare their Hats.
But come, my Lord, let's away.
Enter a Pursuiuant.
  Hast. Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow.
Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby.
How now, Sirrha? how goes the World with thee?
  Purs. The better, that your Lordship please to aske
   Hast. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now,
Then when thou met'st me last, where now we meet:
Then was I going Prisoner to the Tower,
By the suggestion of the Queenes Allyes.
But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy selfe)
This day those Enemies are put to death,
And I in better state then ere I was
   Purs. God hold it, to your Honors good content
   Hast. Gramercie fellow: there, drinke that for me.
Throwes him his Purse.
  Purs. I thanke your Honor.
Exit Pursuiuant.
Enter a Priest.
  Priest. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Honor
   Hast. I thanke thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart.
I am in your debt, for your last Exercise:
Come the next Sabboth, and I will content you
   Priest. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.
Enter Buckingham.
  Buc. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlaine?
Your friends at Pomfret, they doe need the Priest,
Your Honor hath no shriuing worke in hand
   Hast. Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
The men you talke of, came into my minde.
What, goe you toward the Tower?
  Buc. I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there:
I shall returne before your Lordship, thence
   Hast. Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there
   Buc. And Supper too, although thou know'st it not.
Come, will you goe?
  Hast. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying the Nobles to
  Riuers. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this,
To day shalt thou behold a Subiect die,
For Truth, for Dutie, and for Loyaltie
   Grey. God blesse the Prince from all the Pack of you,
A Knot you are, of damned Blood-suckers
   Vaugh. You liue, that shall cry woe for this heereafter
   Rat. Dispatch, the limit of your Liues is out
   Riuers. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Prison!
Fatall and ominous to Noble Peeres:
Within the guiltie Closure of thy Walls,
Richard the Second here was hackt to death:
And for more slander to thy dismall Seat,
Wee giue to thee our guiltlesse blood to drinke
   Grey. Now Margarets Curse is falne vpon our Heads,
When shee exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by, when Richard stab'd her Sonne
   Riuers. Then curs'd shee Richard,
Then curs'd shee Buckingham,
Then curs'd shee Hastings. Oh remember God,
To heare her prayer for them, as now for vs:
And for my Sister, and her Princely Sonnes,
Be satisfy'd, deare God, with our true blood,
Which, as thou know'st, vniustly must be spilt
   Rat. Make haste, the houre of death is expiate
   Riuers. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let vs here embrace.
Farewell, vntill we meet againe in Heauen.
Scaena Quarta.
Enter Buckingham, Darby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Norfolke,
Louell, with others, at a Table.
  Hast. Now Noble Peeres, the cause why we are met,
Is to determine of the Coronation:
In Gods Name speake, when is the Royall day?
  Buck. Is all things ready for the Royall time?
  Darb. It is, and wants but nomination
   Ely. To morrow then I iudge a happie day
   Buck. Who knowes the Lord Protectors mind herein?
Who is most inward with the Noble Duke?
  Ely. Your Grace, we thinke, should soonest know his
   Buck. We know each others Faces: for our Hearts,
He knowes no more of mine, then I of yours,
Or I of his, my Lord, then you of mine:
Lord Hastings, you and he are neere in loue
   Hast. I thanke his Grace, I know he loues me well:
But for his purpose in the Coronation,
I haue not sounded him, nor he deliuer'd
His gracious pleasure any way therein:
But you, my Honorable Lords, may name the time,
And in the Dukes behalfe Ile giue my Voice,
Which I presume hee'le take in gentle part.
Enter Gloucester.
  Ely. In happie time, here comes the Duke himselfe
   Rich. My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow:
I haue beene long a sleeper: but I trust,
My absence doth neglect no great designe,
Which by my presence might haue beene concluded
   Buck. Had you not come vpon your Q my Lord,
William, Lord Hastings, had pronounc'd your part;
I meane your Voice, for Crowning of the King
   Rich. Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder,
His Lordship knowes me well, and loues me well.
My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborne,
I saw good Strawberries in your Garden there,
I doe beseech you, send for some of them
   Ely. Mary and will, my Lord, with all my heart.
Exit Bishop.
  Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our businesse,
And findes the testie Gentleman so hot,
That he will lose his Head, ere giue consent
His Masters Child, as worshipfully he tearmes it,
Shall lose the Royaltie of Englands Throne
   Buck. Withdraw your selfe a while, Ile goe with you.
  Darb. We haue not yet set downe this day of Triumph:
To morrow, in my iudgement, is too sudden,
For I my selfe am not so well prouided,
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.
Enter the Bishop of Ely.
  Ely. Where is my Lord, the Duke of Gloster?
I haue sent for these Strawberries
   Ha. His Grace looks chearfully & smooth this morning,
There's some conceit or other likes him well,
When that he bids good morrow with such spirit.
I thinke there's neuer a man in Christendome
Can lesser hide his loue, or hate, then hee,
For by his Face straight shall you know his Heart
   Darb. What of his Heart perceiue you in his Face,
By any liuelyhood he shew'd to day?
  Hast. Mary, that with no man here he is offended:
For were he, he had shewne it in his Lookes.
Enter Richard, and Buckingham.
  Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deserue,
That doe conspire my death with diuellish Plots
Of damned Witchcraft, and that haue preuail'd
Vpon my Body with their Hellish Charmes
   Hast. The tender loue I beare your Grace, my Lord,
Makes me most forward, in this Princely presence,
To doome th' Offendors, whosoe're they be:
I say, my Lord, they haue deserued death
   Rich. Then be your eyes the witnesse of their euill.
Looke how I am bewitch'd: behold, mine Arme
Is like a blasted Sapling, wither'd vp:
And this is Edwards Wife, that monstrous Witch,
Consorted with that Harlot, Strumpet Shore,
That by their Witchcraft thus haue marked me
   Hast. If they haue done this deed, my Noble Lord
   Rich. If? thou Protector of this damned Strumpet,
Talk'st thou to me of Ifs: thou art a Traytor,
Off with his Head; now by Saint Paul I sweare,
I will not dine, vntill I see the same.
Louell and Ratcliffe, looke that it be done:
The rest that loue me, rise, and follow me.
Manet Louell and Ratcliffe, with the Lord Hastings.
  Hast. Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me,
For I, too fond, might haue preuented this:
Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowse our Helmes,
And I did scorne it, and disdaine to flye:
Three times to day my Foot-Cloth-Horse did stumble,
And started, when he look'd vpon the Tower,
As loth to beare me to the slaughter-house.
O now I need the Priest, that spake to me:
I now repent I told the Pursuiuant,
As too triumphing, how mine Enemies
To day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
And I my selfe secure, in grace and fauour.
Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heauie Curse
Is lighted on poore Hastings wretched Head
   Ra. Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner:
Make a short Shrift, he longs to see your Head
   Hast. O momentarie grace of mortall men,
Which we more hunt for, then the grace of God!
Who builds his hope in ayre of your good Lookes,
Liues like a drunken Sayler on a Mast,
Readie with euery Nod to tumble downe,
Into the fatall Bowels of the Deepe
   Lou. Come, come, dispatch, 'tis bootlesse to exclaime
   Hast. O bloody Richard: miserable England,
I prophecie the fearefull'st time to thee,
That euer wretched Age hath look'd vpon.
Come, lead me to the Block, beare him my Head,
They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.
Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour, maruellous
ill-fauoured.
  Richard. Come Cousin,
Canst thou quake, and change thy colour,
Murther thy breath in middle of a word,
And then againe begin, and stop againe,
As if thou were distraught, and mad with terror?
  Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deepe Tragedian,
Speake, and looke backe, and prie on euery side,
Tremble and start at wagging of a Straw:
Intending deepe suspition, gastly Lookes
Are at my seruice, like enforced Smiles;
And both are readie in their Offices,
At any time to grace my Stratagemes.
But what, is Catesby gone?
  Rich. He is, and see he brings the Maior along.
Enter the Maior, and Catesby.
  Buck. Lord Maior
   Rich. Looke to the Draw-Bridge there
   Buck. Hearke, a Drumme
   Rich. Catesby, o're-looke the Walls
   Buck. Lord Maior, the reason we haue sent
   Rich. Looke back, defend thee, here are Enemies
   Buck. God and our Innocencie defend, and guard vs.
Enter Louell and Ratcliffe, with Hastings Head.
  Rich. Be patient, they are friends: Ratcliffe, and Louell
   Louell. Here is the Head of that ignoble Traytor,
The dangerous and vnsuspected Hastings
   Rich. So deare I lou'd the man, that I must weepe:
I tooke him for the plainest harmelesse Creature,
That breath'd vpon the Earth, a Christian.
Made him my Booke, wherein my Soule recorded
The Historie of all her secret thoughts.
So smooth he dawb'd his Vice with shew of Vertue,
That his apparant open Guilt omitted,
I meane, his Conuersation with Shores Wife,
He liu'd from all attainder of suspects
   Buck. Well, well, he was the couertst sheltred Traytor
That euer liu'd.
Would you imagine, or almost beleeue,
Wert not, that by great preseruation
We liue to tell it, that the subtill Traytor
This day had plotted, in the Councell-House,
To murther me, and my good Lord of Gloster
   Maior. Had he done so?
  Rich. What? thinke you we are Turkes, or Infidels?
Or that we would, against the forme of Law,
Proceed thus rashly in the Villaines death,
But that the extreme perill of the case,
The Peace of England, and our Persons safetie,
Enforc'd vs to this Execution
   Maior. Now faire befall you, he deseru'd his death,
And your good Graces both haue well proceeded,
To warne false Traytors from the like Attempts
   Buck. I neuer look'd for better at his hands,
After he once fell in with Mistresse Shore:
Yet had we not determin'd he should dye,
Vntill your Lordship came to see his end,
Which now the louing haste of these our friends,
Something against our meanings, haue preuented;
Because, my Lord, I would haue had you heard
The Traytor speake, and timorously confesse
The manner and the purpose of his Treasons:
That you might well haue signify'd the same
Vnto the Citizens, who haply may
Misconster vs in him, and wayle his death
   Ma. But, my good Lord, your Graces words shal serue,
As well as I had seene, and heard him speake:
And doe not doubt, right Noble Princes both,
But Ile acquaint our dutious Citizens
With all your iust proceedings in this case
   Rich. And to that end we wish'd your Lordship here,
T' auoid the Censures of the carping World
   Buck. Which since you come too late of our intent,
Yet witnesse what you heare we did intend:
And so, my good Lord Maior, we bid farwell.
  Rich. Goe after, after, Cousin Buckingham.
The Maior towards Guild-Hall hyes him in all poste:
There, at your meetest vantage of the time,
Inferre the Bastardie of Edwards Children:
Tell them, how Edward put to death a Citizen,
Onely for saying, he would make his Sonne
Heire to the Crowne, meaning indeed his House,
Which, by the Signe thereof, was tearmed so.
Moreouer, vrge his hatefull Luxurie,
And beastiall appetite in change of Lust,
Which stretcht vnto their Seruants, Daughters, Wiues,
Euen where his raging eye, or sauage heart,
Without controll, lusted to make a prey.
Nay, for a need, thus farre come neere my Person:
Tell them, when that my Mother went with Child
Of that insatiate Edward; Noble Yorke,
My Princely Father, then had Warres in France,
And by true computation of the time,
Found, that the Issue was not his begot:
Which well appeared in his Lineaments,
Being nothing like the Noble Duke, my Father:
Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere farre off,
Because, my Lord, you know my Mother liues
   Buck. Doubt not, my Lord, Ile play the Orator,
As if the Golden Fee, for which I plead,
Were for my selfe: and so, my Lord, adue
   Rich. If you thriue wel, bring them to Baynards Castle,
Where you shall finde me well accompanied
With reuerend Fathers, and well-learned Bishops
   Buck. I goe, and towards three or foure a Clocke
Looke for the Newes that the Guild-Hall affoords.
Exit Buckingham.
  Rich. Goe Louell with all speed to Doctor Shaw,
Goe thou to Fryer Penker, bid them both
Meet me within this houre at Baynards Castle.
Now will I goe to take some priuie order,
To draw the Brats of Clarence out of sight,
And to giue order, that no manner person
Haue any time recourse vnto the Princes.
Enter a Scriuener
   Scr. Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Hastings,
Which in a set Hand fairely is engross'd,
That it may be to day read o're in Paules.
And marke how well the sequell hangs together:
Eleuen houres I haue spent to write it ouer,
For yester-night by Catesby was it sent me,
The Precedent was full as long a doing,
And yet within these fiue houres Hastings liu'd,
Vntainted, vnexamin'd, free, at libertie.
Here's a good World the while.
Who is so grosse, that cannot see this palpable deuice?
Yet who so bold, but sayes he sees it not?
Bad is the World, and all will come to nought,
When such ill dealing must be seene in thought.
Enter Richard and Buckingham at seuerall Doores.
  Rich. How now, how now, what say the Citizens?
  Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord,
The Citizens are mum, say not a word
   Rich. Toucht you the Bastardie of Edwards Children?
  Buck. I did, with his Contract with Lady Lucy,
And his Contract by Deputie in France,
Th' vnsatiate greedinesse of his desire,
And his enforcement of the Citie Wiues,
His Tyrannie for Trifles, his owne Bastardie,
As being got, your Father then in France,
And his resemblance, being not like the Duke.
Withall, I did inferre your Lineaments,
Being the right Idea of your Father,
Both in your forme, and Noblenesse of Minde:
Layd open all your Victories in Scotland,
Your Discipline in Warre, Wisdome in Peace,
Your Bountie, Vertue, faire Humilitie:
Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose,
Vntoucht, or sleightly handled in discourse.
And when my Oratorie drew toward end,
I bid them that did loue their Countries good,
Cry, God saue Richard, Englands Royall King
   Rich. And did they so?
  Buck. No, so God helpe me, they spake not a word,
But like dumbe Statues, or breathing Stones,
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the Maior, what meant this wilfull silence?
His answer was, the people were not vsed
To be spoke to, but by the Recorder.
Then he was vrg'd to tell my Tale againe:
Thus sayth the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd,
But nothing spoke, in warrant from himselfe.
When he had done, some followers of mine owne,
At lower end of the Hall, hurld vp their Caps,
And some tenne voyces cry'd, God saue King Richard:
And thus I tooke the vantage of those few.
Thankes gentle Citizens, and friends, quoth I,
This generall applause, and chearefull showt,
Argues your wisdome, and your loue to Richard:
And euen here brake off, and came away
   Rich. What tongue-lesse Blockes were they,
Would they not speake?
Will not the Maior then, and his Brethren, come?
  Buck. The Maior is here at hand: intend some feare,
Be not you spoke with, but by mightie suit:
And looke you get a Prayer-Booke in your hand,
And stand betweene two Church-men, good my Lord,
For on that ground Ile make a holy Descant:
And be not easily wonne to our requests,
Play the Maids part, still answer nay, and take it
   Rich. I goe: and if you plead as well for them,
As I can say nay to thee for my selfe,
No doubt we bring it to a happie issue
   Buck. Go, go vp to the Leads, the Lord Maior knocks.
Enter the Maior, and Citizens.
Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here,
I thinke the Duke will not be spoke withall.
Enter Catesby.
  Buck. Now Catesby, what sayes your Lord to my
  Catesby. He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,
To visit him to morrow, or next day:
He is within, with two right reuerend Fathers,
Diuinely bent to Meditation,
And in no Worldly suites would he be mou'd,
To draw him from his holy Exercise
   Buck. Returne, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke,
Tell him, my selfe, the Maior and Aldermen,
In deepe designes, in matter of great moment,
No lesse importing then our generall good,
Are come to haue some conference with his Grace
   Catesby. Ile signifie so much vnto him straight.
  Buck. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward,
He is not lulling on a lewd Loue-Bed,
But on his Knees, at Meditation:
Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans,
But meditating with two deepe Diuines:
Not sleeping, to engrosse his idle Body,
But praying, to enrich his watchfull Soule.
Happie were England, would this vertuous Prince
Take on his Grace the Soueraigntie thereof.
But sure I feare we shall not winne him to it
   Maior. Marry God defend his Grace should say vs
   Buck. I feare he will: here Catesby comes againe.
Enter Catesby.
Now Catesby, what sayes his Grace?
  Catesby. He wonders to what end you haue assembled
Such troopes of Citizens, to come to him,
His Grace not being warn'd thereof before:
He feares, my Lord, you meane no good to him
   Buck. Sorry I am, my Noble Cousin should
Suspect me, that I meane no good to him:
By Heauen, we come to him in perfit loue,
And so once more returne, and tell his Grace.
When holy and deuout Religious men
Are at their Beades, 'tis much to draw them thence,
So sweet is zealous Contemplation.
Enter Richard aloft, betweene two Bishops
   Maior. See where his Grace stands, tweene two Clergie
   Buck. Two Props of Vertue, for a Christian Prince,
To stay him from the fall of Vanitie:
And see a Booke of Prayer in his hand,
True Ornaments to know a holy man.
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,
Lend fauourable eare to our requests,
And pardon vs the interruption
Of thy Deuotion, and right Christian Zeale
   Rich. My Lord, there needes no such Apologie:
I doe beseech your Grace to pardon me,
Who earnest in the seruice of my God,
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.
But leauing this, what is your Graces pleasure?
  Buck. Euen that (I hope) which pleaseth God aboue,
And all good men, of this vngouern'd Ile
   Rich. I doe suspect I haue done some offence,
That seemes disgracious in the Cities eye,
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance
   Buck. You haue, my Lord:
Would it might please your Grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault
   Rich. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land
   Buck. Know then, it is your fault, that you resigne
The Supreme Seat, the Throne Maiesticall,
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,
Your State of Fortune, and your Deaw of Birth,
The Lineall Glory of your Royall House,
To the corruption of a blemisht Stock;
Whiles in the mildnesse of your sleepie thoughts,
Which here we waken to our Countries good,
The Noble Ile doth want his proper Limmes:
His Face defac'd with skarres of Infamie,
His Royall Stock grafft with ignoble Plants,
And almost shouldred in the swallowing Gulfe
Of darke Forgetfulnesse, and deepe Obliuion.
Which to recure, we heartily solicite
Your gracious selfe to take on you the charge
And Kingly Gouernment of this your Land:
Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute,
Or lowly Factor, for anothers gaine;
But as successiuely, from Blood to Blood,
Your Right of Birth, your Empyrie, your owne.
For this, consorted with the Citizens,
Your very Worshipfull and louing friends,
And by their vehement instigation,
In this iust Cause come I to moue your Grace
   Rich. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speake in your reproofe,
Best fitteth my Degree, or your Condition.
If not to answer, you might haply thinke,
Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yeelded
To beare the Golden Yoake of Soueraigntie,
Which fondly you would here impose on me.
If to reproue you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithfull loue to me,
Then on the other side I check'd my friends.
Therefore to speake, and to auoid the first,
And then in speaking, not to incurre the last,
Definitiuely thus I answer you.
Your loue deserues my thankes, but my desert
Vnmeritable, shunnes your high request.
First, if all Obstacles were cut away,
And that my Path were euen to the Crowne,
As the ripe Reuenue, and due of Birth:
Yet so much is my pouertie of spirit,
So mightie, and so manie my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my Greatnesse,
Being a Barke to brooke no mightie Sea;
Then in my Greatnesse couet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my Glory smother'd.
But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to helpe you, were there need:
The Royall Tree hath left vs Royall Fruit,
Which mellow'd by the stealing howres of time,
Will well become the Seat of Maiestie,
And make (no doubt) vs happy by his Reigne.
On him I lay that, you would lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happie Starres,
Which God defend that I should wring from him
   Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in your Grace,
But the respects thereof are nice, and triuiall,
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your Brothers Sonne,
So say we too, but not by Edwards Wife:
For first was he contract to Lady Lucie,
Your Mother liues a Witnesse to his Vow;
And afterward by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, Sister to the King of France.
These both put off, a poore Petitioner,
A Care-cras'd Mother to a many Sonnes,
A Beautie-waining, and distressed Widow,
Euen in the after-noone of her best dayes,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,
Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his degree,
To base declension, and loath'd Bigamie.
By her, in his vnlawfull Bed, he got
This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate,
Saue that for reuerence to some aliue,
I giue a sparing limit to my Tongue.
Then good, my Lord, take to your Royall selfe
This proffer'd benefit of Dignitie:
If not to blesse vs and the Land withall,
Yet to draw forth your Noble Ancestrie
From the corruption of abusing times,
Vnto a Lineall true deriued course
   Maior. Do good my Lord, your Citizens entreat you
   Buck. Refuse not, mightie Lord, this proffer'd loue
   Catesb. O make them ioyfull, grant their lawfull suit
   Rich. Alas, why would you heape this Care on me?
I am vnfit for State, and Maiestie:
I doe beseech you take it not amisse,
I cannot, nor I will not yeeld to you
   Buck. If you refuse it, as in loue and zeale,
Loth to depose the Child, your Brothers Sonne,
As well we know your tendernesse of heart,
And gentle, kinde, effeminate remorse,
Which we haue noted in you to your Kindred,
And egally indeede to all Estates:
Yet know, where you accept our suit, or no,
Your Brothers Sonne shall neuer reigne our King,
But we will plant some other in the Throne,
To the disgrace and downe-fall of your House:
And in this resolution here we leaue you.
Come Citizens, we will entreat no more.
  Catesb. Call him againe, sweet Prince, accept their suit:
If you denie them, all the Land will rue it
   Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of Cares.
Call them againe, I am not made of Stones,
But penetrable to your kinde entreaties,
Albeit against my Conscience and my Soule.
Enter Buckingham, and the rest.
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage graue men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To beare her burthen, where I will or no.
I must haue patience to endure the Load:
But if black Scandall, or foule-fac'd Reproach,
Attend the sequell of your Imposition,
Your meere enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and staynes thereof;
For God doth know, and you may partly see,
How farre I am from the desire of this
   Maior. God blesse your Grace, wee see it, and will
   Rich. In saying so, you shall but say the truth
   Buck. Then I salute you with this Royall Title,
Long liue King Richard, Englands worthie King
   All. Amen
   Buck. To morrow may it please you to be Crown'd
   Rich. Euen when you please, for you will haue it so
   Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace,
And so most ioyfully we take our leaue
   Rich. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe.
Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the Duchesse of
Marquesse Dorset.
  Duch.Yorke. Who meetes vs heere?
My Neece Plantagenet,
Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster?
Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower,
On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince.
Daughter, well met
   Anne. God giue your Graces both, a happie
And a ioyfull time of day
   Qu. As much to you, good Sister: whither away?
  Anne. No farther then the Tower, and as I guesse,
Vpon the like deuotion as your selues,
To gratulate the gentle Princes there
   Qu. Kind Sister thankes, wee'le enter all together:
Enter the Lieutenant.
And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.
Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leaue,
How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke?
  Lieu. Right well, deare Madame: by your patience,
I may not suffer you to visit them,
The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary
   Qu. The King? who's that?
  Lieu. I meane, the Lord Protector
   Qu. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title.
Hath he set bounds betweene their loue, and me?
I am their Mother, who shall barre me from them?
  Duch.Yorke. I am their Fathers Mother, I will see
   Anne. Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother:
Then bring me to their sights, Ile beare thy blame,
And take thy Office from thee, on my perill
   Lieu. No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it so:
I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.
Exit Lieutenant.
Enter Stanley.
  Stanley. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence,
And Ile salute your Grace of Yorke as Mother,
And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes.
Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene
   Qu. Ah, cut my Lace asunder,
That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat,
Or else I swoone with this dead-killing newes
   Anne. Despightfull tidings, O vnpleasing newes
   Dors. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your
  Qu. O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles,
Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.
If thou wilt out-strip Death, goe crosse the Seas,
And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Goe hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou encrease the number of the dead,
And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curse,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene
   Stanley. Full of wise care, is this your counsaile, Madame:
Take all the swift aduantage of the howres:
You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne,
In your behalfe, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay
   Duch.Yorke. O ill dispersing Winde of Miserie.
O my accursed Wombe, the Bed of Death:
A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World,
Whose vnauoided Eye is murtherous
   Stanley. Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent
   Anne. And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe.
O would to God, that the inclusiue Verge
Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow,
Were red hot Steele, to seare me to the Braines,
Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome,
And dye ere men can say, God saue the Queene
   Qu. Goe, goe, poore soule, I enuie not thy glory,
To feed my humor, wish thy selfe no harme
   Anne. No: why? When he that is my Husband now,
Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corse,
When scarce the blood was well washt from his hands,
Which issued from my other Angell Husband,
And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face,
This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accurst,
For making me, so young, so old a Widow:
And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy Bed;
And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,
More miserable, by the Life of thee,
Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death.
Loe, ere I can repeat this Curse againe,
Within so small a time, my Womans heart
Grossely grew captiue to his honey words,
And prou'd the subiect of mine owne Soules Curse,
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest:
For neuer yet one howre in his Bed
Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe,
But with his timorous Dreames was still awak'd.
Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke,
And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me
   Qu. Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining
   Anne. No more, then with my soule I mourne for
   Dors. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory
   Anne. Adieu, poore soule, that tak'st thy leaue
   Du.Y. Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,
Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,
Go thou to Sanctuarie, and good thoughts possesse thee,
I to my Graue, where peace and rest lye with mee.
Eightie odde yeeres of sorrow haue I seene,
And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene
   Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower.
Pitty, you ancient Stones, those tender Babes,
Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,
Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones,
Rude ragged Nurse, old sullen Play-fellow,
For tender Princes: vse my Babies well;
So foolish Sorrowes bids your Stones farewell.
Scena Secunda.
Sound a Sennet. Enter Richard in pompe, Buckingham, Catesby,
  Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham
   Buck. My gracious Soueraigne
   Rich. Giue me thy hand.
Thus high, by thy aduice, and thy assistance,
Is King Richard seated:
But shall we weare these Glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we reioyce in them?
  Buck. Still liue they, and for euer let them last
   Rich. Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch,
To trie if thou be currant Gold indeed:
Young Edward liues, thinke now what I would speake
   Buck. Say on my louing Lord
   Rich. Why Buckingham, I say I would be King
   Buck. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord
   Rich. Ha? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward liues
   Buck True, Noble Prince
   Rich. O bitter consequence!
That Edward still should liue true Noble Prince.
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plaine? I wish the Bastards dead,
And I would haue it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? speake suddenly, be briefe
   Buck. Your Grace may doe your pleasure
   Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindnesse freezes:
Say, haue I thy consent, that they shall dye?
  Buc. Giue me some litle breath, some pawse, deare Lord,
Before I positiuely speake in this:
I will resolue you herein presently.
Exit Buck[ingham].
  Catesby. The King is angry, see he gnawes his Lippe
   Rich. I will conuerse with Iron-witted Fooles,
And vnrespectiue Boyes: none are for me,
That looke into me with considerate eyes,
High-reaching Buckingham growes circumspect.
   Page. My Lord
   Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold
Will tempt vnto a close exploit of Death?
  Page. I know a discontented Gentleman,
Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit:
Gold were as good as twentie Orators,
And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing
   Rich. What is his Name?
  Page. His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell
   Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither,
The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham,
No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes.
Hath he so long held out with me, vntyr'd,
And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so.
Enter Stanley.
How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes?
  Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset
As I heare, is fled to Richmond,
In the parts where he abides
   Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad,
That Anne my Wife is very grieuous sicke,
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence Daughter:
The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him.
Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out,
That Anne, my Queene, is sicke, and like to dye.
About it, for it stands me much vpon
To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me.
I must be marryed to my Brothers Daughter,
Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse:
Murther her Brothers, and then marry her,
Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in
So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne,
Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye.
Enter Tyrrel.
Is thy Name Tyrrel?
  Tyr. Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect
   Rich. Art thou indeed?
  Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord
   Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine?
  Tyr. Please you:
But I had rather kill two enemies
   Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies,
Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers,
Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon:
Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower
   Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them,
And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them
   Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique:
Hearke, come hither Tyrrel,
Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,
There is no more but so: say it is done,
And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it
   Tyr. I will dispatch it straight.
Enter Buckingham.
  Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde,
The late request that you did sound me in
   Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond
   Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord
   Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke
   Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise,
For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd,
Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables,
Which you haue promised I shall possesse
   Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it
   Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request?
  Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt
Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King,
When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy.
A King perhaps
   Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit
   Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine.
   Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice
With such contempt? made I him King for this?
O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on.
Enter Tyrrel.
  Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodie Act is done,
The most arch deed of pittious massacre
That euer yet this Land was guilty of:
Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne
To do this peece of ruthfull Butchery,
Albeit they were flesht Villaines, bloody Dogges,
Melted with tendernesse, and milde compassion,
Wept like to Children, in their deaths sad Story.
O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes:
Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another
Within their Alablaster innocent Armes:
Their lips were foure red Roses on a stalke,
And in their Summer Beauty kist each other.
A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay,
Which one (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my minde:
But oh the Diuell, there the Villaine stopt:
When Dighton thus told on, we smothered
The most replenished sweet worke of Nature,
That from the prime Creation ere she framed.
Hence both are gone with Conscience and Remorse,
They could not speake, and so I left them both,
To beare this tydings to the bloody King.
Enter Richard.
And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord
   Ric. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes
   Tir. If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge,
Beget your happinesse, be happy then,
For it is done
   Rich. But did'st thou see them dead
   Tir. I did my Lord
   Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell
   Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them,
But where (to say the truth) I do not know
   Rich. Come to me Tirrel soone, and after Supper,
When thou shalt tell the processe of their death.
Meane time, but thinke how I may do the good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then
   Tir. I humbly take my leaue
   Rich. The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp close,
His daughter meanly haue I matcht in marriage,
The Sonnes of Edward sleepe in Abrahams bosome,
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.
Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes
At yong Elizabeth my brothers daughter,
And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne,
To her go I, a iolly thriuing wooer.
Enter Ratcliffe.
  Rat. My Lord
   Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so
  Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welshmen
Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth
   Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere,
Then Buckingham and his rash leuied Strength.
Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull commenting
Is leaden seruitor to dull delay.
Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery:
Then fierie expedition be my wing,
Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King:
Go muster men: My counsaile is my Sheeld,
We must be breefe, when Traitors braue the Field.
Scena Tertia.
Enter old Queene Margaret
   Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:
Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt,
To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire induction, am I witnesse to,
And will to France, hoping the consequence
Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall.
Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere?
Enter Dutchesse and Queene.
  Qu. Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes:
My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing sweets:
If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre,
And be not fixt in doome perpetuall,
Houer about me with your ayery wings,
And heare your mothers Lamentation
   Mar. Houer about her, say that right for right
Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night
   Dut. So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
  Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt
   Qu. Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs,
And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe?
When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed was done?
  Mar. When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne
   Dut. Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost,
Woes Scene, Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt,
Breefe abstract and record of tedious dayes,
Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth,
Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood
   Qu. Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue,
As thou canst yeeld a melancholly seate:
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere,
Ah who hath any cause to mourne but wee?
  Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reuerent,
Giue mine the benefit of signeurie,
And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand
If sorrow can admit Society.
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him
   Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him
   Mar. Thou had'st a Clarence too,
And Richard kill'd him.
From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept
A Hell-hound that doth hunt vs all to death:
That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood:
That foule defacer of Gods handy worke:
That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules:
That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,
Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues.
O vpright, iust, and true-disposing God,
How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre
Prayes on the issue of his Mothers body,
And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone
   Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes:
God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine
   Mar. Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:
Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they
Matcht not the high perfection of my losse.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd my Edward,
And the beholders of this franticke play,
Th' adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray,
Vntimely smother'd in their dusky Graues.
Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer,
Onely reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand
Insues his pittious and vnpittied end.
Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray,
To haue him sodainly conuey'd from hence:
Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray,
That I may liue and say, The Dogge is dead
   Qu. O thou did'st prophesie, the time would come,
That I should wish for thee to helpe me curse
That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad
   Mar. I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune:
I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen,
The presentation of but what I was;
The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant;
One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below:
A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes;
A dreame of what thou wast, a garish Flagge
To be the ayme of euery dangerous Shot;
A signe of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble;
A Queene in ieast, onely to fill the Scene.
Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers?
Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein dost thou Ioy?
Who sues, and kneeles, and sayes, God saue the Queene?
Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee?
Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy Wife, a most distressed Widdow:
For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the name:
For one being sued too, one that humbly sues:
For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care:
For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me:
For she being feared of all, now fearing one:
For she commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of Iustice whirl'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time,
Hauing no more but Thought of what thou wast.
To torture thee the more, being what thou art,
Thou didst vsurpe my place, and dost thou not
Vsurpe the iust proportion of my Sorrow?
Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke,
From which, euen heere I slip my wearied head,
And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee.
Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of sad mischance,
These English woes, shall make me smile in France
   Qu. O thou well skill'd in Curses, stay a-while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies
   Mar. Forbeare to sleepe the night, and fast the day:
Compare dead happinesse, with liuing woe:
Thinke that thy Babes were sweeter then they were,
And he that slew them fowler then he is:
Bett'ring thy losse, makes the bad causer worse,
Reuoluing this, will teach thee how to Curse
   Qu. My words are dull, O quicken them with thine
   Mar. Thy woes will make them sharpe,
And pierce like mine.
Exit Margaret.
  Dut. Why should calamity be full of words?
  Qu. Windy Atturnies to their Clients Woes,
Ayery succeeders of intestine ioyes,
Poore breathing Orators of miseries,
Let them haue scope, though what they will impart,
Helpe nothing els, yet do they ease the hart
   Dut. If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd: go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words, let's smother
My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes smother'd.
The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaimes.
Enter King Richard, and his Traine.
  Rich. Who intercepts me in my Expedition?
  Dut. O she, that might haue intercepted thee
By strangling thee in her accursed wombe,
From all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done
   Qu. Hid'st thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne
Where't should be branded, if that right were right?
The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne,
And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers.
Tell me thou Villaine-slaue, where are my Children?
  Dut. Thou Toad, thou Toade,
Where is thy Brother Clarence?
And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne?
  Qu. Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray?
  Dut. Where is kinde Hastings?
  Rich. A flourish Trumpets, strike Alarum Drummes:
Let not the Heauens heare these Tell-tale women
Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I say.
Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient, and intreat me fayre,
Or with the clamorous report of Warre,
Thus will I drowne your exclamations
   Dut. Art thou my Sonne?
  Rich. I, I thanke God, my Father, and your selfe
   Dut. Then patiently heare my impatience
   Rich. Madam, I haue a touch of your condition,
That cannot brooke the accent of reproofe
   Dut. O let me speake
   Rich. Do then, but Ile not heare
   Dut. I will be milde, and gentle in my words
   Rich. And breefe (good Mother) for I am in hast
   Dut. Art thou so hasty? I haue staid for thee
(God knowes) in torment and in agony
   Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?
  Dut. No by the holy Rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my Hell.
A greeuous burthen was thy Birth to me,
Tetchy and wayward was thy Infancie.
Thy School-daies frightfull, desp'rate, wilde, and furious,
Thy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous:
Thy Age confirm'd, proud, subtle, slye, and bloody,
More milde, but yet more harmfull; Kinde in hatred:
What comfortable houre canst thou name,
That euer grac'd me with thy company?
  Rich. Faith none, but Humfrey Hower,
That call'd your Grace
To Breakefast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on, and not offend you Madam.
Strike vp the Drumme
   Dut. I prythee heare me speake
   Rich. You speake too bitterly
   Dut. Heare me a word:
For I shall neuer speake to thee againe
   Dut. Either thou wilt dye, by Gods iust ordinance
Ere from this warre thou turne a Conqueror:
Or I with greefe and extreame Age shall perish,
And neuer more behold thy face againe.
Therefore take with thee my most greeuous Curse,
Which in the day of Battell tyre thee more
Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st.
My Prayers on the aduerse party fight,
And there the little soules of Edwards Children,
Whisper the Spirits of thine Enemies,
And promise them Successe and Victory:
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:
Shame serues thy life, and doth thy death attend.
  Qu. Though far more cause, yet much lesse spirit to curse
Abides in me, I say Amen to her
   Rich. Stay Madam, I must talke a word with you
   Qu. I haue no more sonnes of the Royall Blood
For thee to slaughter. For my Daughters (Richard)
They shall be praying Nunnes, not weeping Queenes:
And therefore leuell not to hit their liues
   Rich. You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Vertuous and Faire, Royall and Gracious?
  Qu. And must she dye for this? O let her liue,
And Ile corrupt her Manners, staine her Beauty,
Slander my Selfe, as false to Edwards bed:
Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy,
So she may liue vnscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confesse she was not Edwards daughter
   Rich. Wrong not her Byrth, she is a Royall Princesse
   Qu. To saue her life, Ile say she is not so
   Rich. Her life is safest onely in her byrth
   Qu. And onely in that safety, dyed her Brothers
   Rich. Loe at their Birth, good starres were opposite
   Qu. No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary
   Rich. All vnauoyded is the doome of Destiny
   Qu. True: when auoyded grace makes Destiny.
My Babes were destin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had blest thee with a fairer life
   Rich. You speake as if that I had slaine my Cosins?
  Qu. Cosins indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend,
Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred, Freedome, Life,
Whose hand soeuer lanch'd their tender hearts,
Thy head (all indirectly) gaue direction.
No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To reuell in the Intrailes of my Lambes.
But that still vse of greefe, makes wilde greefe tame,
My tongue should to thy eares not name my Boyes,
Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in thine eyes:
And I in such a desp'rate Bay of death,
Like a poore Barke, of sailes and tackling reft,
Rush all to peeces on thy Rocky bosome
   Rich. Madam, so thriue I in my enterprize
And dangerous successe of bloody warres,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd
   Qu. What good is couer'd with the face of heauen,
To be discouered, that can do me good
   Rich. Th' aduancement of your children, gentle Lady
  Qu. Vp to some Scaffold, there to lose their heads
   Rich. Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune,
The high Imperiall Type of this earths glory
   Qu. Flatter my sorrow with report of it:
Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honor,
Canst thou demise to any childe of mine
   Rich. Euen all I haue; I, and my selfe and all,
Will I withall indow a childe of thine:
So in the Lethe of thy angry soule,
Thou drowne the sad remembrance of those wrongs,
Which thou supposest I haue done to thee
   Qu. Be breefe, least that the processe of thy kindnesse
Last longer telling then thy kindnesse date
   Rich. Then know,
That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter
   Qu. My daughters Mother thinkes it with her soule
   Rich. What do you thinke?
  Qu. That thou dost loue my daughter from thy soule
So from thy Soules loue didst thou loue her Brothers,
And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it
   Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter,
And do intend to make her Queene of England
   Qu. Well then, who dost y meane shallbe her King
   Rich. Euen he that makes her Queene:
Who else should bee?
  Qu. What, thou?
  Rich. Euen so: How thinke you of it?
  Qu. How canst thou woo her?
  Rich. That I would learne of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour
   Qu. And wilt thou learne of me?
  Rich. Madam, with all my heart
   Qu. Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers.
A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue
Edward and Yorke, then haply will she weepe:
Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret
Did to thy Father, steept in Rutlands blood,
A hand-kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne
The purple sappe from her sweet Brothers body,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall.
If this inducement moue her not to loue,
Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds:
Tell her, thou mad'st away her Vnckle Clarence,
Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her sake)
Mad'st quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne
   Rich. You mocke me Madam, this not the way
To win your daughter
   Qu. There is no other way,
Vnlesse thou could'st put on some other shape,
And not be Richard, that hath done all this
   Ric. Say that I did all this for loue of her
   Qu. Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee
Hauing bought loue, with such a bloody spoyle
   Rich. Looke what is done, cannot be now amended:
Men shall deale vnaduisedly sometimes,
Which after-houres giues leysure to repent.
If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes,
To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter:
If I haue kill'd the issue of your wombe,
To quicken your encrease, I will beget
Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter:
A Grandams name is little lesse in loue,
Then is the doting Title of a Mother;
They are as Children but one steppe below,
Euen of your mettall, of your very blood:
Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your Children were vexation to your youth,
But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,
The losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King,
And by that losse, your Daughter is made Queene.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can.
Dorset your Sonne, that with a fearfull soule
Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle,
This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home
To high Promotions, and great Dignity.
The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, Brother:
Againe shall you be Mother to a King:
And all the Ruines of distressefull Times,
Repayr'd with double Riches of Content.
What? we haue many goodly dayes to see:
The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed,
Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle,
Aduantaging their Loue, with interest
Often-times double gaine of happinesse.
Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go,
Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience,
Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale.
Put in her tender heart, th' aspiring Flame
Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princesse
With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes:
And when this Arme of mine hath chastised
The petty Rebell, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed:
To whom I will retaile my Conquest wonne,
And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Cæsars Cæsar
   Qu. What were I best to say, her Fathers Brother
Would be her Lord? Or shall I say her Vnkle?
Or he that slew her Brothers, and her Vnkles?
Vnder what Title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue,
Can make seeme pleasing to her tender yeares?
  Rich. Inferre faire Englands peace by this Alliance
   Qu. Which she shall purchase with stil lasting warre
   Rich. Tell her, the King that may command, intreats
   Qu. That at her hands, which the kings King forbids
   Rich. Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queene
   Qu. To vaile the Title, as her Mother doth
   Rich. Say I will loue her euerlastingly
   Qu. But how long shall that title euer last?
  Rich. Sweetly in force, vnto her faire liues end
   Qu. But how long fairely shall her sweet life last?
  Rich. As long as Heauen and Nature lengthens it
   Qu. As long as Hell and Richard likes of it
   Rich. Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subiect low
   Qu. But she your Subiect, lothes such Soueraignty
   Rich. Be eloquent in my behalfe to her
   Qu. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told
   Rich. Then plainly to her, tell my louing tale
   Qu. Plaine and not honest, is too harsh a style
   Rich. Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quicke
   Qu. O no, my Reasons are too deepe and dead,
Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graues,
Harpe on it still shall I, till heart-strings breake
   Rich. Harpe not on that string Madam, that is past.
Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne
   Qu. Prophan'd, dishonor'd, and the third vsurpt
   Rich. I sweare
   Qu. By nothing, for this is no Oath:
Thy George prophan'd, hath lost his Lordly Honor;
Thy Garter blemish'd, pawn'd his Knightly Vertue;
Thy Crowne vsurp'd, disgrac'd his Kingly Glory:
If something thou would'st sweare to be beleeu'd,
Sweare then by something, that thou hast not wrong'd
   Rich. Then by my Selfe
   Qu. Thy Selfe, is selfe-misvs'd
   Rich. Now by the World
   Qu. 'Tis full of thy foule wrongs
   Rich. My Fathers death
   Qu. Thy life hath it dishonor'd
   Rich. Why then, by Heauen
   Qu. Heauens wrong is most of all:
If thou didd'st feare to breake an Oath with him,
The vnity the King my husband made,
Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died.
If thou had'st fear'd to breake an oath by him,
Th' Imperiall mettall, circling now thy head,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child,
And both the Princes had bene breathing heere,
Which now two tender Bed-fellowes for dust,
Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes.
What can'st thou sweare by now
   Rich. The time to come
   Qu. That thou hast wronged in the time ore-past:
For I my selfe haue many teares to wash
Heereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee.
The Children liue, whose Fathers thou hast slaughter'd,
Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with their age:
The Parents liue, whose Children thou hast butcher'd,
Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age.
Sweare not by time to come, for that thou hast
Misvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repast
   Rich. As I entend to prosper, and repent:
So thriue I in my dangerous Affayres
Of hostile Armes: My selfe, my selfe confound:
Heauen, and Fortune barre me happy houres:
Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy rest.
Be opposite all Planets of good lucke
To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue,
Immaculate deuotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter.
In her, consists my Happinesse, and thine:
Without her, followes to my selfe, and thee;
Her selfe, the Land, and many a Christian soule,
Death, Desolation, Ruine, and Decay:
It cannot be auoyded, but by this:
It will not be auoyded, but by this.
Therefore deare Mother (I must call you so)
Be the Atturney of my loue to her:
Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserue:
Vrge the Necessity and state of times,
And be not peeuish found, in great Designes
   Qu. Shall I be tempted of the Diuel thus?
  Rich. I, if the Diuell tempt you to do good
   Qu. Shall I forget my selfe, to be my selfe
   Rich. I, if your selfes remembrance wrong your selfe
   Qu. Yet thou didst kil my Children
   Rich. But in your daughters wombe I bury them.
Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed
Selues of themselues, to your recomforture
   Qu. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?
  Rich. And be a happy Mother by the deed
   Qu. I go, write to me very shortly,
And you shal vnderstand from me her mind.
Exit Q[ueene].
  Rich. Beare her my true loues kisse, and so farewell.
Relenting Foole, and shallow-changing Woman.
How now, what newes?
Enter Ratcliffe.
  Rat. Most mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coast
Rideth a puissant Nauie: to our Shores
Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends,
Vnarm'd, and vnresolu'd to beat them backe.
'Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall:
And there they hull, expecting but the aide
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore
   Rich. Some light-foot friend post to y Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe thy selfe, or Catesby, where is hee?
  Cat. Here, my good Lord
   Rich. Catesby, flye to the Duke
   Cat. I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haste
   Rich. Catesby come hither, poste to Salisbury:
When thou com'st thither: Dull vnmindfull Villaine,
Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke?
  Cat. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highnesse pleasure,
What from your Grace I shall deliuer to him
   Rich. O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie straight
The greatest strength and power that he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury
   Cat. I goe.
  Rat. What, may it please you, shall I doe at Salisbury?
  Rich. Why, what would'st thou doe there, before I
  Rat. Your Highnesse told me I should poste before
   Rich. My minde is chang'd:
Enter Lord Stanley.
Stanley, what newes with you?
  Sta. None, good my Liege, to please you with y hearing,
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported
   Rich. Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad:
What need'st thou runne so many miles about,
When thou mayest tell thy Tale the neerest way?
Once more, what newes?
  Stan. Richmond is on the Seas
   Rich. There let him sinke, and be the Seas on him,
White-liuer'd Runnagate, what doth he there?
  Stan. I know not, mightie Soueraigne, but by guesse
   Rich. Well, as you guesse
   Stan. Stirr'd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to clayme the Crowne
   Rich. Is the Chayre emptie? is the Sword vnsway'd?
Is the King dead? the Empire vnpossest?
What Heire of Yorke is there aliue, but wee?
And who is Englands King, but great Yorkes Heire?
Then tell me, what makes he vpon the Seas?
  Stan. Vnlesse for that, my Liege, I cannot guesse
   Rich. Vnlesse for that he comes to be your Liege,
You cannot guesse wherefore the Welchman comes.
Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I feare
   Stan. No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not
   Rich. Where is thy Power then, to beat him back?
Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers?
Are they not now vpon the Westerne Shore,
Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Shippes?
  Stan. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the
   Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the North,
When they should serue their Soueraigne in the West?
  Stan. They haue not been commanded, mighty King:
Pleaseth your Maiestie to giue me leaue,
Ile muster vp my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Maiestie shall please
   Rich. I, thou would'st be gone, to ioyne with Richmond:
But Ile not trust thee
   Stan. Most mightie Soueraigne,
You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull,
I neuer was, nor neuer will be false
   Rich. Goe then, and muster men: but leaue behind
Your Sonne George Stanley: looke your heart be firme,
Or else his Heads assurance is but fraile
   Stan. So deale with him, as I proue true to you.
Exit Stanley.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mess. My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire,
As I by friends am well aduertised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother,
With many moe Confederates, are in Armes.
Enter another Messenger
   Mess. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes,
And euery houre more Competitors
Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes strong.
Enter another Messenger.
  Mess. My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham
   Rich. Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,
He striketh him.
There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes
   Mess. The newes I haue to tell your Maiestie,
Is, that by sudden Floods, and fall of Waters,
Buckinghams Armie is dispers'd and scatter'd,
And he himselfe wandred away alone,
No man knowes whither
   Rich. I cry thee mercie:
There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine.
Hath any well-aduised friend proclaym'd
Reward to him that brings the Traytor in?
  Mess. Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord.
Enter another Messenger.
  Mess. Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquesse Dorset,
'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkeshire are in Armes:
But this good comfort bring I to your Highnesse,
The Brittaine Nauie is dispers'd by Tempest.
Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat
Vnto the shore, to aske those on the Banks,
If they were his Assistants, yea, or no?
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham,
Vpon his partie: he mistrusting them,
Hoys'd sayle, and made his course againe for Brittaine
   Rich. March on, march on, since we are vp in Armes,
If not to fight with forraine Enemies,
Yet to beat downe these Rebels here at home.
Enter Catesby.
  Cat. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the best newes: that the Earle of Richmond
Is with a mighty power Landed at Milford,
Is colder Newes, but yet they must be told
   Rich. Away towards Salsbury, while we reason here,
A Royall battell might be wonne and lost:
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salsbury, the rest march on with me.
Florish. Exeunt
Scena Quarta.
Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.
  Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me,
That in the stye of the most deadly Bore,
My Sonne George Stanley is frankt vp in hold:
If I reuolt, off goes yong Georges head,
The feare of that, holds off my present ayde.
So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord.
Withall say, that the Queene hath heartily consented
He should espouse Elizabeth hir daughter.
But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now?
  Chri. At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales
   Der. What men of Name resort to him
   Chri. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier,
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir Iames Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew,
And many other of great name and worth:
And towards London do they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withall
   Der. Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kisse his hand,
My Letter will resolue him of my minde.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution.
  Buc. Will not King Richard let me speake with him?
  Sher. No my good Lord, therefore be patient
   Buc. Hastings, and Edwards children, Gray & Riuers,
Holy King Henry, and thy faire Sonne Edward,
Vaughan, and all that haue miscarried
By vnder-hand corrupted foule iniustice,
If that your moody discontented soules,
Do through the clowds behold this present houre,
Euen for reuenge mocke my destruction.
This is All-soules day (Fellow) is it not?
  Sher. It is
   Buc. Why then Al-soules day, is my bodies doomsday
This is the day, which in King Edwards time
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his Children, and his Wiues Allies.
This is the day, wherein I wisht to fall
By the false Faith of him whom most I trusted.
This, this All-soules day to my fearfull Soule,
Is the determin'd respit of my wrongs:
That high All-seer, which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my fained Prayer on my head,
And giuen in earnest, what I begg'd in iest.
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turne their owne points in their Masters bosomes.
Thus Margarets curse falles heauy on my necke:
When he (quoth she) shall split thy heart with sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a Prophetesse:
Come leade me Officers to the blocke of shame,
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
Exeunt. Buckingham with Officers.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with drum
  Richm. Fellowes in Armes, and my most louing Frends
Bruis'd vnderneath the yoake of Tyranny,
Thus farre into the bowels of the Land,
Haue we marcht on without impediment;
And heere receiue we from our Father Stanley
Lines of faire comfort and encouragement:
The wretched, bloody, and vsurping Boare,
(That spoyl'd your Summer Fields, and fruitfull Vines)
Swilles your warm blood like wash, & makes his trough
In your embowel'd bosomes: This foule Swine
Is now euen in the Centry of this Isle,
Ne're to the Towne of Leicester, as we learne:
From Tamworth thither, is but one dayes march.
In Gods name cheerely on, couragious Friends,
To reape the Haruest of perpetuall peace,
By this one bloody tryall of sharpe Warre
   Oxf. Euery mans Conscience is a thousand men,
To fight against this guilty Homicide
   Her. I doubt not but his Friends will turne to vs
   Blunt. He hath no friends, but what are friends for fear,
Which in his deerest neede will flye from him
   Richm. All for our vantage, then in Gods name march,
True Hope is swift, and flyes with Swallowes wings,
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings.
Exeunt. Omnes.
Enter King Richard in Armes with Norfolke, Ratcliffe, and the
  Rich. Here pitch our Tent, euen here in Bosworth field,
My Lord of Surrey, why looke you so sad?
  Sur. My heart is ten times lighter then my lookes
   Rich. My Lord of Norfolke
   Nor. Heere most gracious Liege
   Rich. Norfolke, we must haue knockes:
Ha, must we not?
  Nor. We must both giue and take my louing Lord
   Rich. Vp with my Tent, heere wil I lye to night,
But where to morrow? Well, all's one for that.
Who hath descried the number of the Traitors?
  Nor. Six or seuen thousand is their vtmost power
   Rich. Why our Battalia trebbles that account:
Besides, the Kings name is a Tower of strength,
Which they vpon the aduerse Faction want.
Vp with the Tent: Come Noble Gentlemen,
Let vs suruey the vantage of the ground.
Call for some men of sound direction:
Let's lacke no Discipline, make no delay,
For Lords, to morrow is a busie day.
Enter Richmond, Sir William Branden, Oxford, and Dorset.
  Richm. The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden set,
And by the bright Tract of his fiery Carre,
Giues token of a goodly day to morrow.
Sir William Brandon, you shall beare my Standard:
Giue me some Inke and Paper in my Tent:
Ile draw the Forme and Modell of our Battaile,
Limit each Leader to his seuerall Charge,
And part in iust proportion our small Power.
My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon,
And your Sir Walter Herbert stay with me:
The Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment;
Good Captaine Blunt, beare my goodnight to him,
And by the second houre in the Morning,
Desire the Earle to see me in my Tent:
Yet one thing more (good Captaine) do for me:
Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know?
  Blunt. Vnlesse I haue mistane his Colours much,
(Which well I am assur'd I haue not done)
His Regiment lies halfe a Mile at least
South, from the mighty Power of the King
   Richm. If without perill it be possible,
Sweet Blunt, make some good meanes to speak with him
And giue him from me, this most needfull Note
   Blunt. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it,
And so God giue you quiet rest to night
   Richm. Good night good Captaine Blunt:
Come Gentlemen,
Let vs consult vpon to morrowes Businesse;
Into my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold.
They withdraw into the Tent.
Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolke, & Catesby.
  Rich. What is't a Clocke?
  Cat. It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke
   King. I will not sup to night,
Giue me some Inke and Paper:
What, is my Beauer easier then it was?
And all my Armour laid into my Tent?
  Cat. It is my Liege: and all things are in readinesse
   Rich. Good Norfolke, hye thee to thy charge,
Vse carefull Watch, choose trusty Centinels,
  Nor. I go my Lord
   Rich. Stir with the Larke to morrow, gentle Norfolk
   Nor. I warrant you my Lord.
  Rich. Ratcliffe
   Rat. My Lord
   Rich. Send out a Pursuiuant at Armes
To Stanleys Regiment: bid him bring his power
Before Sun-rising, least his Sonne George fall
Into the blinde Caue of eternall night.
Fill me a Bowle of Wine: Giue me a Watch,
Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow:
Look that my Staues be sound, & not too heauy. Ratcliff
   Rat. My Lord
   Rich. Saw'st the melancholly Lord Northumberland?
  Rat. Thomas the Earle of Surrey, and himselfe,
Much about Cockshut time, from Troope to Troope
Went through the Army, chearing vp the Souldiers
   King. So, I am satisfied: Giue me a Bowle of Wine,
I haue not that Alacrity of Spirit,
Nor cheere of Minde that I was wont to haue.
Set it downe. Is Inke and Paper ready?
  Rat. It is my Lord
   Rich. Bid my Guard watch. Leaue me.
Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent
And helpe to arme me. Leaue me I say.
Exit Ratclif.
Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.
  Der. Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helme
   Rich. All comfort that the darke night can affoord,
Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law.
Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother?
  Der. I by Attourney, blesse thee from thy Mother,
Who prayes continually for Richmonds good:
So much for that. The silent houres steale on,
And flakie darkenesse breakes within the East.
In breefe, for so the season bids vs be,
Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning,
And put thy Fortune to th' Arbitrement
Of bloody stroakes, and mortall staring Warre:
I, as I may, that which I would, I cannot,
With best aduantage will deceiue the time,
And ayde thee in this doubtfull shocke of Armes.
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Least being seene, thy Brother, tender George
Be executed in his Fathers sight.
Farewell: the leysure, and the fearfull time
Cuts off the ceremonious Vowes of Loue,
And ample enterchange of sweet Discourse,
Which so long sundred Friends should dwell vpon:
God giue vs leysure for these rites of Loue.
Once more Adieu, be valiant, and speed well
   Richm. Good Lords conduct him to his Regiment:
Ile striue with troubled noise, to take a Nap,
Lest leaden slumber peize me downe to morrow,
When I should mount with wings of Victory:
Once more, good night kinde Lords and Gentlemen.
Exeunt. Manet Richmond.
O thou, whose Captaine I account my selfe,
Looke on my Forces with a gracious eye:
Put in their hands thy bruising Irons of wrath,
That they may crush downe with a heauy fall,
Th' vsurping Helmets of our Aduersaries:
Make vs thy ministers of Chasticement,
That we may praise thee in thy victory:
To thee I do commend my watchfull soule,
Ere I let fall the windowes of mine eyes:
Sleeping, and waking, oh defend me still.
Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, Sonne to Henry the sixt.
  Gh. to Ri[chard]. Let me sit heauy on thy soule to morrow:
Thinke how thou stab'st me in my prime of youth
At Teukesbury: Dispaire therefore, and dye.
Ghost to Richm[ond].
Be chearefull Richmond,
For the wronged Soules
Of butcher'd Princes, fight in thy behalfe:
King Henries issue Richmond comforts thee.
Enter the Ghost of Henry the sixt.
  Ghost. When I was mortall, my Annointed body
By thee was punched full of holes;
Thinke on the Tower, and me: Dispaire, and dye,
Harry the sixt, bids thee dispaire, and dye.
To Richm[ond].
Vertuous and holy be thou Conqueror:
Harry that prophesied thou should'st be King,
Doth comfort thee in sleepe: Liue, and flourish.
Enter the Ghost of Clarence.
  Ghost. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow.
I that was wash'd to death with Fulsome Wine:
Poore Clarence by thy guile betray'd to death:
To morrow in the battell thinke on me,
And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye.
To Richm[ond].
Thou off-spring of the house of Lancaster
The wronged heyres of Yorke do pray for thee,
Good Angels guard thy battell, Liue and Flourish.
Enter the Ghosts of Riuers, Gray, and Vaughan.
  Riu. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow,
Riuers, that dy'de at Pomfret: dispaire, and dye
   Grey. Thinke vpon Grey, and let thy soule dispaire
   Vaugh. Thinke vpon Vaughan, and with guilty feare
Let fall thy Lance, dispaire and dye.
  All to Richm[ond].
And thinke our wrongs in Richards Bosome,
Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day.
Enter the Ghost of Lord Hastings.
  Gho. Bloody and guilty: guiltily awake,
And in a bloody Battell end thy dayes.
Thinke on Lord Hastings: dispaire, and dye.
Hast. to Rich[ard].
Quiet vntroubled soule,
Awake, awake:
Arme, fight, and conquer, for faire Englands sake.
Enter the Ghosts of the two yong Princes.
  Ghosts. Dreame on thy Cousins
Smothered in the Tower:
Let vs be laid within thy bosome Richard,
And weigh thee downe to ruine, shame, and death,
Thy Nephewes soule bids thee dispaire and dye.
Ghosts to Richm[ond].
Sleepe Richmond,
Sleepe in Peace, and wake in Ioy,
Good Angels guard thee from the Boares annoy,
Liue, and beget a happy race of Kings,
Edwards vnhappy Sonnes, do bid thee flourish.
Enter the Ghost of Anne, his Wife.
  Ghost to Rich[ard].
 Richard, thy Wife,
That wretched Anne thy Wife,
That neuer slept a quiet houre with thee,
Now filles thy sleepe with perturbations,
To morrow in the Battaile, thinke on me,
And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye:
Ghost to Richm[ond].
Thou quiet soule,
Sleepe thou a quiet sleepe:
Dreame of Successe, and Happy Victory,
Thy Aduersaries Wife doth pray for thee.
Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.
  Ghost to Rich[ard].
 The first was I
That help'd thee to the Crowne:
That last was I that felt thy Tyranny.
O, in the Battaile think on Buckingham,
And dye in terror of thy guiltinesse.
Dreame on, dreame on, of bloody deeds and death,
Fainting dispaire; dispairing yeeld thy breath.
Ghost to Richm[ond].
I dyed for hope
Ere I could lend thee Ayde;
But cheere thy heart, and be thou not dismayde:
God, and good Angels fight on Richmonds side,
And Richard fall in height of all his pride.
Richard starts out of his dreame.
  Rich. Giue me another Horse, bind vp my Wounds:
Haue mercy Iesu. Soft, I did but dreame.
O coward Conscience? how dost thou afflict me?
The Lights burne blew. It is not dead midnight.
Cold fearefull drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What? do I feare my Selfe? There's none else by,
Richard loues Richard, that is, I am I.
Is there a Murtherer heere? No; Yes, I am:
Then flye; What from my Selfe? Great reason: why?
Lest I Reuenge. What? my Selfe vpon my Selfe?
Alacke, I loue my Selfe. Wherefore? For any good
That I my Selfe, haue done vnto my Selfe?
O no. Alas, I rather hate my Selfe,
For hatefull Deeds committed by my Selfe.
I am a Villaine: yet I Lye, I am not.
Foole, of thy Selfe speake well: Foole, do not flatter.
My Conscience hath a thousand seuerall Tongues,
And euery Tongue brings in a seuerall Tale,
And euerie Tale condemnes me for a Villaine;
Periurie, in the high'st Degree,
Murther, sterne murther, in the dyr'st degree,
All seuerall sinnes, all vs'd in each degree,
Throng all to'th' Barre, crying all, Guilty, Guilty.
I shall dispaire, there is no Creature loues me;
And if I die, no soule shall pittie me.
Nay, wherefore should they? Since that I my Selfe,
Finde in my Selfe, no pittie to my Selfe.
Me thought, the Soules of all that I had murther'd
Came to my Tent, and euery one did threat
To morrowes vengeance on the head of Richard.
Enter Ratcliffe.
  Rat. My Lord
   King. Who's there?
  Rat. Ratcliffe, my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock
Hath twice done salutation to the Morne,
Your Friends are vp, and buckle on their Armour
   King. O Ratcliffe, I feare, I feare
   Rat. Nay good my Lord, be not affraid of Shadows
   King. By the Apostle Paul, shadowes to night
Haue stroke more terror to the soule of Richard,
Then can the substance of ten thousand Souldiers
Armed in proofe, and led by shallow Richmond.
'Tis not yet neere day. Come go with me,
Vnder our Tents Ile play the Ease-dropper,
To heare if any meane to shrinke from me.
Exeunt. Richard & Ratliffe,
Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting in his Tent.
  Richm. Good morrow Richmond
   Rich. Cry mercy Lords, and watchfull Gentlemen,
That you haue tane a tardie sluggard heere?
  Lords. How haue you slept my Lord?
  Rich. The sweetest sleepe,
And fairest boading Dreames,
That euer entred in a drowsie head,
Haue I since your departure had my Lords.
Me thought their Soules, whose bodies Rich[ard]. murther'd,
Came to my Tent, and cried on Victory:
I promise you my Heart is very iocond,
In the remembrance of so faire a dreame,
How farre into the Morning is it Lords?
  Lor. Vpon the stroke of foure
   Rich. Why then 'tis time to Arme, and giue direction.
His Oration to his Souldiers.
More then I haue said, louing Countrymen,
The leysure and inforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell vpon: yet remember this,
God, and our good cause, fight vpon our side,
The Prayers of holy Saints and wronged soules,
Like high rear'd Bulwarkes, stand before our Faces,
(Richard except) those whom we fight against,
Had rather haue vs win, then him they follow.
For, what is he they follow? Truly Gentlemen,
A bloudy Tyrant, and a Homicide:
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One that made meanes to come by what he hath,
And slaughter'd those that were the meanes to help him:
A base foule Stone, made precious by the soyle
Of Englands Chaire, where he is falsely set:
One that hath euer beene Gods Enemy.
Then if you fight against Gods Enemy,
God will in iustice ward you as his Soldiers.
If you do sweare to put a Tyrant downe,
You sleepe in peace, the Tyrant being slaine:
If you do fight against your Countries Foes,
Your Countries Fat shall pay your paines the hyre.
If you do fight in safegard of your wiues,
Your wiues shall welcome home the Conquerors.
If you do free your Children from the Sword,
Your Childrens Children quits it in your Age.
Then in the name of God and all these rights,
Aduance your Standards, draw your willing Swords.
For me, the ransome of my bold attempt,
Shall be this cold Corpes on the earth's cold face.
But if I thriue, the gaine of my attempt,
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound Drummes and Trumpets boldly, and cheerefully,
God, and Saint George, Richmond, and Victory.
Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and Catesby.
  K. What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?
  Rat. That he was neuer trained vp in Armes
   King. He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?
  Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose
   King. He was in the right, and so indeed it is.
Tell the clocke there.
Clocke strikes.
Giue me a Kalender: Who saw the Sunne to day?
  Rat. Not I my Lord
   King. Then he disdaines to shine: for by the Booke
He should haue brau'd the East an houre ago,
A blacke day will it be to somebody. Ratcliffe
   Rat. My Lord
   King. The Sun will not be seene to day,
The sky doth frowne, and lowre vpon our Army.
I would these dewy teares were from the ground.
Not shine to day? Why, what is that to me
More then to Richmond? For the selfe-same Heauen
That frownes on me, lookes sadly vpon him.
Enter Norfolke.
  Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord: the foe vaunts in the field
   King. Come, bustle, bustle. Caparison my horse.
Call vp Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power,
I will leade forth my Soldiers to the plaine,
And thus my Battell shal be ordred.
My Foreward shall be drawne in length,
Consisting equally of Horse and Foot:
Our Archers shall be placed in the mid'st;
Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Earle of Surrey,
Shall haue the leading of the Foot and Horse.
They thus directed, we will follow
In the maine Battell, whose puissance on either side
Shall be well-winged with our cheefest Horse:
This, and Saint George to boote.
What think'st thou Norfolke
   Nor. A good direction warlike Soueraigne,
This found I on my Tent this Morning.
Iockey of Norfolke, be not so bold,
For Dickon thy maister is bought and sold
   King. A thing deuised by the Enemy.
Go Gentlemen, euery man to his Charge,
Let not our babling Dreames affright our soules:
For Conscience is a word that Cowards vse,
Deuis'd at first to keepe the strong in awe,
Our strong armes be our Conscience, Swords our Law.
March on, ioyne brauely, let vs too't pell mell,
If not to heauen, then hand in hand to Hell.
What shall I say more then I haue inferr'd?
Remember whom you are to cope withall,
A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, and Run-awayes,
A scum of Brittaines, and base Lackey Pezants,
Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth
To desperate Aduentures, and assur'd Destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to vnrest:
You hauing Lands, and blest with beauteous wiues,
They would restraine the one, distaine the other,
And who doth leade them, but a paltry Fellow?
Long kept in Britaine at our Mothers cost,
A Milke-sop, one that neuer in his life
Felt so much cold, as ouer shooes in Snow:
Let's whip these straglers o're the Seas againe,
Lash hence these ouer-weening Ragges of France,
These famish'd Beggers, weary of their liues,
Who (but for dreaming on this fond exploit)
For want of meanes (poore Rats) had hang'd themselues.
If we be conquered, let men conquer vs,
And not these bastard Britaines, whom our Fathers
Haue in their owne Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,
And on Record, left them the heires of shame.
Shall these enioy our Lands? lye with our Wiues?
Rauish our daughters?
Drum afarre off
Hearke, I heare their Drumme,
Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen,
Draw Archers draw your Arrowes to the head,
Spurre your proud Horses hard, and ride in blood,
Amaze the welkin with your broken staues.
Enter a Messenger.
What sayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power?
  Mes. My Lord, he doth deny to come
   King. Off with his sonne Georges head
   Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is past the Marsh:
After the battaile, let George Stanley dye
   King. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom.
Aduance our Standards, set vpon our Foes,
Our Ancient word of Courage, faire S[aint]. George
Inspire vs with the spleene of fiery Dragons:
Vpon them, Victorie sits on our helpes.
Alarum, excursions. Enter Catesby.
  Cat. Rescue my Lord of Norfolke,
Rescue, Rescue:
The King enacts more wonders then a man,
Daring an opposite to euery danger:
His horse is slaine, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death:
Rescue faire Lord, or else the day is lost.
Enter Richard.
  Rich. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse
   Cates. Withdraw my Lord, Ile helpe you to a Horse
  Rich. Slaue, I haue set my life vpon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the Dye:
I thinke there be sixe Richmonds in the field,
Fiue haue I slaine to day, in stead of him.
A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse.
Alarum, Enter Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is
Retreat, and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the Crowne,
diuers other Lords.
  Richm. God, and your Armes
Be prais'd Victorious Friends;
The day is ours, the bloudy Dogge is dead
   Der. Couragious Richmond,
Well hast thou acquit thee: Loe,
Heere these long vsurped Royalties,
From the dead Temples of this bloudy Wretch,
Haue I pluck'd off, to grace thy Browes withall.
Weare it, and make much of it
   Richm. Great God of Heauen, say Amen to all.
But tell me, is yong George Stanley liuing?
  Der. He is my Lord, and safe in Leicester Towne,
Whither (if you please) we may withdraw vs
   Richm. What men of name are slaine on either side?
  Der. Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Walter Lord Ferris,
Sir Robert Brokenbury, and Sir William Brandon
   Richm. Interre their Bodies, as become their Births,
Proclaime a pardon to the Soldiers fled,
That in submission will returne to vs,
And then as we haue tane the Sacrament,
We will vnite the White Rose, and the Red.
Smile Heauen vpon this faire Coniunction,
That long haue frown'd vpon their Enmity:
What Traitor heares me, and sayes not Amen?
England hath long beene mad, and scarr'd her selfe;
The Brother blindely shed the Brothers blood;
The Father, rashly slaughtered his owne Sonne;
The Sonne compell'd, beene Butcher to the Sire;
All this diuided Yorke and Lancaster,
Diuided, in their dire Diuision.
O now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true Succeeders of each Royall House,
By Gods faire ordinance, conioyne together:
And let thy Heires (God if thy will be so)
Enrich the time to come, with Smooth-fac'd Peace,
With smiling Plenty, and faire Prosperous dayes.
Abate the edge of Traitors, Gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloudy dayes againe,
And make poore England weepe in Streames of Blood;
Let them not liue to taste this Lands increase,
That would with Treason, wound this faire Lands peace.
Now Ciuill wounds are stopp'd, Peace liues agen;
That she may long liue heere, God say, Amen.
FINIS. The Tragedy of Richard the Third: with the Landing of
Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Comedie of Errors
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, Iaylor,
other attendants.
  Marchant. Proceed Solinus to procure my fall,
And by the doome of death end woes and all
   Duke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more.
I am not partiall to infringe our Lawes;
The enmity and discord which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke,
To Merchants our well-dealing Countrimen,
Who wanting gilders to redeeme their liues,
Haue seal'd his rigorous statutes with their blouds,
Excludes all pitty from our threatning lookes:
For since the mortall and intestine iarres
Twixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs,
It hath in solemne Synodes beene decreed,
Both by the Siracusians and our selues,
To admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes:
Nay more, if any borne at Ephesus
Be seene at any Siracusian Marts and Fayres:
Againe, if any Siracusian borne
Come to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies:
His goods confiscate to the Dukes dispose,
Vnlesse a thousand markes be leuied
To quit the penalty, and to ransome him:
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount vnto a hundred Markes,
Therefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die
   Mer. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done,
My woes end likewise with the euening Sonne
   Duk. Well Siracusian; say in briefe the cause
Why thou departedst from thy natiue home?
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus
   Mer. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd,
Then I to speake my griefes vnspeakeable:
Yet that the world may witnesse that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
Ile vtter what my sorrow giues me leaue.
In Syracusa was I borne, and wedde
Vnto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me; had not our hap beene bad:
With her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increast
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamium, till my factors death,
And he great care of goods at randone left,
Drew me from kinde embracements of my spouse;
From whom my absence was not sixe moneths olde,
Before her selfe (almost at fainting vnder
The pleasing punishment that women beare)
Had made prouision for her following me,
And soone, and safe, arriued where I was:
There had she not beene long, but she became
A ioyfull mother of two goodly sonnes:
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very howre, and in the selfe-same Inne,
A meane woman was deliuered
Of such a burthen Male, twins both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poore,
I bought, and brought vp to attend my sonnes.
My wife, not meanely prowd of two such boyes,
Made daily motions for our home returne:
Vnwilling I agreed, alas, too soone wee came aboord.
A league from Epidamium had we saild
Before the alwaies winde-obeying deepe
Gaue any Tragicke Instance of our harme:
But longer did we not retaine much hope;
For what obscured light the heauens did grant,
Did but conuay vnto our fearefull mindes
A doubtfull warrant of immediate death,
Which though my selfe would gladly haue imbrac'd,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And pitteous playnings of the prettie babes
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to feare,
Forst me to seeke delayes for them and me,
And this it was: (for other meanes was none)
The Sailors sought for safety by our boate,
And left the ship then sinking ripe to vs.
My wife, more carefull for the latter borne,
Had fastned him vnto a small spare Mast,
Such as sea-faring men prouide for stormes:
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whil'st I had beene like heedfull of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt,
Fastned our selues at eyther end the mast,
And floating straight, obedient to the streame,
Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sonne gazing vpon the earth,
Disperst those vapours that offended vs,
And by the benefit of his wished light
The seas waxt calme, and we discouered
Two shippes from farre, making amaine to vs:
Of Corinth that, of Epidarus this,
But ere they came, oh let me say no more,
Gather the sequell by that went before
   Duk. Nay forward old man, doe not breake off so,
For we may pitty, though not pardon thee
   Merch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily tearm'd them mercilesse to vs:
For ere the ships could meet by twice fiue leagues,
We were encountred by a mighty rocke,
Which being violently borne vp,
Our helpefull ship was splitted in the midst;
So that in this vniust diuorce of vs,
Fortune had left to both of vs alike,
What to delight in, what to sorrow for,
Her part, poore soule, seeming as burdened
With lesser waight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the winde,
And in our sight they three were taken vp
By Fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length another ship had seiz'd on vs,
And knowing whom it was their hap to saue,
Gaue healthfull welcome to their ship-wrackt guests,
And would haue reft the Fishers of their prey,
Had not their backe beene very slow of saile;
And therefore homeward did they bend their course.
Thus haue you heard me seuer'd from my blisse,
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell sad stories of my owne mishaps
   Duke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,
Doe me the fauour to dilate at full,
What haue befalne of them and they till now
   Merch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteene yeeres became inquisitiue
After his brother; and importun'd me
That his attendant, so his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,
Might beare him company in the quest of him:
Whom whil'st I laboured of a loue to see,
I hazarded the losse of whom I lou'd.
Fiue Sommers haue I spent in farthest Greece,
Roming cleane through the bounds of Asia,
And coasting homeward, came to Ephesus:
Hopelesse to finde, yet loth to leaue vnsought
Or that, or any place that harbours men:
But heere must end the story of my life,
And happy were I in my timelie death,
Could all my trauells warrant me they liue
   Duke. Haplesse Egeon whom the fates haue markt
To beare the extremitie of dire mishap:
Now trust me, were it not against our Lawes,
Against my Crowne, my oath, my dignity,
Which Princes would they may not disanull,
My soule should sue as aduocate for thee:
But though thou art adiudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recal'd
But to our honours great disparagement:
Yet will I fauour thee in what I can;
Therefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day
To seeke thy helpe by beneficiall helpe,
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus,
Beg thou, or borrow, to make vp the summe,
And liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die:
Iaylor, take him to thy custodie
   Iaylor. I will my Lord
   Merch. Hopelesse and helpelesse doth Egean wend,
But to procrastinate his liuelesse end.
Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio.
  Mer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamium,
Lest that your goods too soone be confiscate:
This very day a Syracusian Marchant
Is apprehended for a riuall here,
And not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the towne,
Dies ere the wearie sunne set in the West:
There is your monie that I had to keepe
   Ant. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we host,
And stay there Dromio, till I come to thee;
Within this houre it will be dinner time,
Till that Ile view the manners of the towne,
Peruse the traders, gaze vpon the buildings,
And then returne and sleepe within mine Inne,
For with long trauaile I am stiffe and wearie.
Get thee away
   Dro. Many a man would take you at your word,
And goe indeede, hauing so good a meane.
Exit Dromio.
  Ant. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholly,
Lightens my humour with his merry iests:
What will you walke with me about the towne,
And then goe to my Inne and dine with me?
  E.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit:
I craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke,
Please you, Ile meete with you vpon the Mart,
And afterward consort you till bed time:
My present businesse cals me from you now
   Ant. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe,
And wander vp and downe to view the Citie
   E.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.
  Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get:
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the Ocean seekes another drop,
Who falling there to finde his fellow forth,
(Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe.
So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother,
In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe.
Enter Dromio of Ephesus.
Here comes the almanacke of my true date:
What now? How chance thou art return'd so soone
   E.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late:
The Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit;
The clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell:
My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke:
She is so hot because the meate is colde:
The meate is colde, because you come not home:
You come not home, because you haue no stomacke:
You haue no stomacke, hauing broke your fast:
But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to day
   Ant. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray?
Where haue you left the mony that I gaue you
   E.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last,
To pay the Sadler for my Mistris crupper:
The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not
   Ant. I am not in a sportiue humor now:
Tell me, and dally not, where is the monie?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine owne custodie
   E.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner:
I from my Mistris come to you in post:
If I returne I shall be post indeede.
For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate:
Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke,
And strike you home without a messenger
   Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season,
Reserue them till a merrier houre then this:
Where is the gold I gaue in charge to thee?
  E.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me?
  Ant. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes,
And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge
   E.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fro[m] the Mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner;
My Mistris and her sister staies for you
   Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me,
In what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie;
Or I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours
That stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd:
Where is the thousand Markes thou hadst of me?
  E.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate:
Some of my Mistris markes vpon my shoulders:
But not a thousand markes betweene you both.
If I should pay your worship those againe,
Perchance you will not beare them patiently
   Ant. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou?
  E.Dro. Your worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner:
And praies that you will hie you home to dinner
   Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face
Being forbid? There take you that sir knaue
   E.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your hands:
Nay, and you will not sir, Ile take my heeles.
Exeunt. Dromio Ep.
  Ant. Vpon my life by some deuise or other,
The villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie.
They say this towne is full of cosenage:
As nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie:
Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde:
Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie:
Disguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes;
And manie such like liberties of sinne:
If it proue so, I will be gone the sooner:
Ile to the Centaur to goe seeke this slaue,
I greatly feare my monie is not safe.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her
  Adr. Neither my husband nor the slaue return'd,
That in such haste I sent to seeke his Master?
Sure Luciana it is two a clocke
   Luc. Perhaps some Merchant hath inuited him,
And from the Mart he's somewhere gone to dinner:
Good Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret;
A man is Master of his libertie:
Time is their Master, and when they see time,
They'll goe or come; if so, be patient Sister
   Adr. Why should their libertie then ours be more?
  Luc. Because their businesse still lies out adore
   Adr. Looke when I serue him so, he takes it thus
   Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will
   Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so
   Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lasht with woe:
There's nothing situate vnder heauens eye,
But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in skie.
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowles
Are their males subiects, and at their controules:
Man more diuine, the Master of all these,
Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas,
Indued with intellectuall sence and soules,
Of more preheminence then fish and fowles,
Are masters to their females, and their Lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords
   Adri. This seruitude makes you to keepe vnwed
   Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed
   Adr. But were you wedded, you wold bear some sway
  Luc. Ere I learne loue, Ile practise to obey
   Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
  Luc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare
   Adr. Patience vnmou'd, no maruel though she pause,
They can be meeke, that haue no other cause:
A wretched soule bruis'd with aduersitie,
We bid be quiet when we heare it crie.
But were we burdned with like waight of paine,
As much, or more, we should our selues complaine:
So thou that hast no vnkinde mate to greeue thee,
With vrging helpelesse patience would releeue me;
But if thou liue to see like right bereft,
This foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left
   Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie:
Heere comes your man, now is your husband nie.
Enter Dromio Eph.
  Adr. Say, is your tardie master now at hand?
  E.Dro. Nay, hee's at too hands with mee, and that my
two eares can witnesse
   Adr. Say, didst thou speake with him? knowst thou
  E.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare,
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could vnderstand it
   Luc. Spake hee so doubtfully, thou couldst not feele
   E.Dro. Nay, hee strooke so plainly, I could too well
feele his blowes; and withall so doubtfully, that I could
scarce vnderstand them
   Adri. But say, I prethee, is he comming home?
It seemes he hath great care to please his wife
   E.Dro. Why Mistresse, sure my Master is horne mad
   Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine?
  E.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad,
But sure he is starke mad:
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold:
'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:
Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he:
Will you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he;
Where is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine?
The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he:
My mistresse, sir, quoth I: hang vp thy Mistresse:
I know not thy mistresse, out on thy mistresse
   Luci. Quoth who?
  E.Dr. Quoth my Master, I know quoth he, no house,
no wife, no mistresse: so that my arrant due vnto my
tongue, I thanke him, I bare home vpon my shoulders:
for in conclusion, he did beat me there
   Adri. Go back againe, thou slaue, & fetch him home
   Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home?
For Gods sake send some other messenger
   Adri. Backe slaue, or I will breake thy pate a-crosse
   Dro. And he will blesse y crosse with other beating:
Betweene you, I shall haue a holy head
   Adri. Hence prating pesant, fetch thy Master home
   Dro. Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a foot-ball you doe spurne me thus:
You spurne me hence, and he will spurne me hither,
If I last in this seruice, you must case me in leather
   Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face
   Adri. His company must do his minions grace,
Whil'st I at home starue for a merrie looke:
Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke
From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it.
Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit,
If voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd,
Vnkindnesse blunts it more then marble hard.
Doe their gay vestments his affections baite?
That's not my fault, hee's master of my state.
What ruines are in me that can be found,
By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed faire,
A sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire.
But, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale,
And feedes from home; poore I am but his stale
   Luci. Selfe-harming Iealousie; fie beat it hence
   Ad. Vnfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispence:
I know his eye doth homage other-where,
Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis'd me a chaine,
Would that alone, a loue he would detaine,
So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed:
I see the Iewell best enamaled
Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still
That others touch, and often touching will,
Where gold and no man that hath a name,
By falshood and corruption doth it shame:
Since that my beautie cannot please his eie,
Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die
   Luci. How manie fond fooles serue mad Ielousie?
Enter Antipholis Errotis.
  Ant. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp
Safe at the Centaur, and the heedfull slaue
Is wandred forth in care to seeke me out
By computation and mine hosts report.
I could not speake with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the Mart? see here he comes.
Enter Dromio Siracusia.
How now sir, is your merrie humor alter'd?
As you loue stroakes, so iest with me againe:
You know no Centaur? you receiu'd no gold?
Your Mistresse sent to haue me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madlie thou did didst answere me?
  S.Dro. What answer sir? when spake I such a word?
  E.Ant. Euen now, euen here, not halfe an howre since
   S.Dro. I did not see you since you sent me hence
Home to the Centaur with the gold you gaue me
   Ant. Villaine, thou didst denie the golds receit,
And toldst me of a Mistresse, and a dinner,
For which I hope thou feltst I was displeas'd
   S.Dro. I am glad to see you in this merrie vaine,
What meanes this iest, I pray you Master tell me?
  Ant. Yea, dost thou ieere & flowt me in the teeth?
Thinkst y I iest? hold, take thou that, & that.
  S.Dr. Hold sir, for Gods sake, now your iest is earnest,
Vpon what bargaine do you giue it me?
  Antiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes
Doe vse you for my foole, and chat with you,
Your sawcinesse will iest vpon my loue,
And make a Common of my serious howres,
When the sunne shines, let foolish gnats make sport,
But creepe in crannies, when he hides his beames:
If you will iest with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanor to my lookes,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce
   S.Dro. Sconce call you it? so you would leaue battering,
I had rather haue it a head, and you vse these blows
long, I must get a sconce for my head, and Insconce it
to, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray
sir, why am I beaten?
  Ant. Dost thou not know?
  S.Dro. Nothing sir, but that I am beaten
   Ant. Shall I tell you why?
  S.Dro. I sir, and wherefore; for they say, euery why
hath a wherefore
   Ant. Why first for flowting me, and then wherefore,
for vrging it the second time to me
   S.Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of
season, when in the why and the wherefore, is neither
rime nor reason. Well sir, I thanke you
   Ant. Thanke me sir, for what?
  S.Dro. Marry sir, for this something that you gaue me
   Ant. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing
for something. But say sir, is it dinner time?
  S.Dro. No sir, I thinke the meat wants that I haue
   Ant. In good time sir: what's that?
  S.Dro. Basting
   Ant. Well sir, then 'twill be drie
   S.Dro. If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it
   Ant. Your reason?
  S.Dro. Lest it make you chollericke, and purchase me
another drie basting
   Ant. Well sir, learne to iest in good time, there's a
time for all things
   S.Dro. I durst haue denied that before you were so
   Anti. By what rule sir?
  S.Dro. Marry sir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald
pate of Father time himselfe
   Ant. Let's heare it
   S.Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire
that growes bald by nature
   Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie?
  S.Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recouer
the lost haire of another man
   Ant. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as
it is) so plentifull an excrement?
  S.Dro. Because it is a blessing that hee bestowes on
beasts, and what he hath scanted them in haire, hee hath
giuen them in wit
   Ant. Why, but theres manie a man hath more haire
   S.Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose
   Ant. Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers
   S.Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he looseth
it in a kinde of iollitie
   An. For what reason
   S.Dro. For two, and sound ones to
   An. Nay not sound I pray you
   S.Dro. Sure ones then
   An. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing
   S.Dro. Certaine ones then
   An. Name them
   S.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in
trying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in
   An. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no
time for all things
   S.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recouer
haire lost by Nature
   An. But your reason was not substantiall, why there
is no time to recouer
   S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and
therefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers
   An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft,
who wafts vs yonder.
Enter Adriana and Luciana.
  Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne,
Some other Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow,
That neuer words were musicke to thine eare,
That neuer obiect pleasing in thine eye,
That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand,
That neuer meat sweet-sauour'd in thy taste,
Vnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee.
How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it,
That thou art then estranged from thy selfe?
Thy selfe I call it, being strange to me:
That vndiuidable Incorporate
Am better then thy deere selfes better part.
Ah doe not teare away thy selfe from me;
For know my loue: as easie maist thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulfe,
And take vnmingled thence that drop againe
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thy selfe, and not me too.
How deerely would it touch thee to the quicke,
Shouldst thou but heare I were licencious?
And that this body consecrate to thee,
By Ruffian Lust should be contaminate?
Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me,
And hurle the name of husband in my face,
And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
And breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow?
I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.
I am possest with an adulterate blot,
My bloud is mingled with the crime of lust:
For if we two be one, and thou play false,
I doe digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion:
Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed,
I liue distain'd, thou vndishonoured
   Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not:
In Ephesus I am but two houres old,
As strange vnto your towne, as to your talke,
Who euery word by all my wit being scan'd,
Wants wit in all, one word to vnderstand
   Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you:
When were you wont to vse my sister thus?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner
   Ant. By Dromio?
  Drom. By me
   Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him.
That he did buffet thee, and in his blowes,
Denied my house for his, me for his wife
   Ant. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman:
What is the course and drift of your compact?
  S.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this time
   Ant. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words,
Didst thou deliuer to me on the Mart
   S.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life
   Ant. How can she thus then call vs by our names?
Vnlesse it be by inspiration
   Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie,
To counterfeit thus grosely with your slaue,
Abetting him to thwart me in my moode;
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come I will fasten on this sleeue of thine:
Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine:
Whose weaknesse married to thy stranger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If ought possesse thee from me, it is drosse,
Vsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse,
Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion,
Infect thy sap, and liue on thy confusion
   Ant. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her
What, was I married to her in my dreame?
Or sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?
What error driues our eies and eares amisse?
Vntill I know this sure vncertaintie,
Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie
   Luc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner
   S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner.
This is the Fairie land, oh spight of spights,
We talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights;
If we obay them not, this will insue:
They'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew
   Luc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not?
Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot
   S.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not?
  Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I
   S.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape
   Ant. Thou hast thine owne forme
   S.Dro. No, I am an Ape
   Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Asse
   S.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for grasse.
'Tis so, I am an Asse, else it could neuer be,
But I should know her as well as she knowes me
   Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole,
To put the finger in the eie and weepe;
Whil'st man and Master laughes my woes to scorne:
Come sir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate:
Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day,
And shriue you of a thousand idle prankes:
Sirra, if any aske you for your Master,
Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter:
Come sister, Dromio play the Porter well
   Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell?
Sleeping or waking, mad or well aduisde:
Knowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde:
Ile say as they say, and perseuer so:
And in this mist at all aduentures go
   S.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate?
  Adr. I, and let none enter, least I breake your pate
   Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the
Goldsmith, and
Balthaser the Merchant.
  E.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all,
My wife is shrewish when I keepe not howres;
Say that I lingerd with you at your shop
To see the making of her Carkanet,
And that to morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villaine that would face me downe
He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold,
And that I did denie my wife and house;
Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this?
  E.Dro. Say what you wil sir, but I know what I know,
That you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to show;
If y skin were parchment, & y blows you gaue were ink,
Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke
   E.Ant. I thinke thou art an asse
   E.Dro. Marry so it doth appeare
By the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare,
I should kicke being kickt, and being at that passe,
You would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an asse
   E.An. Y'are sad signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer
May answer my good will, and your good welcom here
   Bal. I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcom deer
   E.An. Oh signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,
A table full of welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish
   Bal. Good meat sir is co[m]mon that euery churle affords
   Anti. And welcome more common, for thats nothing
   Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a merrie
   Anti. I, to a niggardly Host, and more sparing guest:
But though my cates be meane, take them in good part,
Better cheere may you haue, but not with better hart.
But soft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let vs in
   E.Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn
   S.Dro. Mome, Malthorse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idiot,
Either get thee from the dore, or sit downe at the hatch:
Dost thou coniure for wenches, that y calst for such store,
When one is one too many, goe get thee from the dore
   E.Dro. What patch is made our Porter? my Master
stayes in the street
   S.Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, lest hee
catch cold on's feet
   E.Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore
   S.Dro. Right sir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell
me wherefore
   Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I haue not din'd to
   S.Dro. Nor to day here you must not come againe
when you may
   Anti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the
howse I owe?
  S.Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is
   E.Dro. O villaine, thou hast stolne both mine office
and my name,
The one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame:
If thou hadst beene Dromio to day in my place,
Thou wouldst haue chang'd thy face for a name, or thy
name for an asse.
  Luce. What a coile is there Dromio? who are those
at the gate?
  E.Dro. Let my Master in Luce
   Luce. Faith no, hee comes too late, and so tell your
   E.Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Prouerbe,
Shall I set in my staffe
   Luce. Haue at you with another, that's when? can
  S.Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast answer'd
   Anti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I
  Luce. I thought to haue askt you
   S.Dro. And you said no
   E.Dro. So come helpe, well strooke, there was blow
   Anti. Thou baggage let me in
   Luce. Can you tell for whose sake?
  E.Drom. Master, knocke the doore hard
   Luce. Let him knocke till it ake
   Anti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore
   Luce. What needs all that, and a paire of stocks in the
Enter Adriana.
  Adr. Who is that at the doore y keeps all this noise?
  S.Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with vnruly
   Anti. Are you there Wife? you might haue come
   Adri. Your wife sir knaue? go get you from the dore
   E.Dro. If you went in paine Master, this knaue wold
   Angelo. Heere is neither cheere sir, nor welcome, we
would faine haue either
   Baltz. In debating which was best, wee shall part
with neither
   E.Dro. They stand at the doore, Master, bid them
welcome hither
   Anti. There is something in the winde, that we cannot
   E.Dro. You would say so Master, if your garments
Your cake here is warme within: you stand here in the
It would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought
   Ant. Go fetch me something, Ile break ope the gate
   S.Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your
   E.Dro. A man may breake a word with your sir, and
words are but winde:
I and breake it in your face, so he break it not behinde
   S.Dro. It seemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee
   E.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let
   S.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue
   Ant. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow
   E.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so;
For a fish without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether,
If a crow help vs in sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together
   Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow
   Balth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so,
Heerein you warre against your reputation,
And draw within the compasse of suspect
Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife.
Once this your long experience of your wisedome,
Her sober vertue, yeares, and modestie,
Plead on your part some cause to you vnknowne;
And doubt not sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the dores are made against you.
Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,
And let vs to the Tyger all to dinner,
And about euening come your selfe alone,
To know the reason of this strange restraint:
If by strong hand you offer to breake in
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that supposed by the common rowt
Against your yet vngalled estimation,
That may with foule intrusion enter in,
And dwell vpon your graue when you are dead;
For slander liues vpon succession:
For euer hows'd, where it gets possession
   Anti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet,
And in despight of mirth meane to be merrie:
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle;
There will we dine: this woman that I meane
My wife (but I protest without desert)
Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall:
To her will we to dinner, get you home
And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made,
Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine,
For there's the house: That chaine will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spight my wife)
Vpon mine hostesse there, good sir make haste:
Since mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me,
Ile knocke else-where, to see if they'll disdaine me
   Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence
   Anti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence.
Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia.
  Iulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot
A husbands office? shall Antipholus
Euen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot?
Shall loue in buildings grow so ruinate?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse:
Or if you like else-where doe it by stealth,
Muffle your false loue with some shew of blindnesse:
Let not my sister read it in your eye:
Be not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator:
Looke sweet, speake faire, become disloyaltie:
Apparell vice like vertues harbenger:
Beare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted,
Teach sinne the carriage of a holy Saint,
Be secret false: what need she be acquainted?
What simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine?
'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,
And let her read it in thy lookes at boord:
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed,
Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word:
Alas poore women, make vs not beleeue
(Being compact of credit) that you loue vs,
Though others haue the arme, shew vs the sleeue:
We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.
Then gentle brother get you in againe;
Comfort my sister, cheere her, call her wise;
'Tis holy sport to be a little vaine,
When the sweet breath of flatterie conquers strife
   S.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine:
Lesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not,
Then our earths wonder, more then earth diuine.
Teach me deere creature how to thinke and speake:
Lay open to my earthie grosse conceit:
Smothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake,
The foulded meaning of your words deceit:
Against my soules pure truth, why labour you,
To make it wander in an vnknowne field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld.
But if that I am I, then well I know,
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe:
Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline:
Oh traine me not sweet Mermaide with thy note,
To drowne me in thy sister floud of teares:
Sing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote:
Spread ore the siluer waues thy golden haires;
And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie:
And in that glorious supposition thinke,
He gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die:
Let Loue, being light, be drowned if she sinke
   Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so?
  Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know
   Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie
   Ant. For gazing on your beames faire sun being by
   Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere
   Ant. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night
   Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so
   Ant. Thy sisters sister
   Luc. That's my sister
   Ant. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part:
Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart;
My foode, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aime;
My sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime
   Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be
   Ant. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee:
Thee will I loue, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife:
Giue me thy hand
   Luc. Oh soft sir, hold you still:
Ile fetch my sister to get her good will.
Enter Dromio, Siracusia.
  Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so
  S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I
your man? Am I my selfe?
  Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art
   Dro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides
   Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy
  Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman:
One that claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will
   Anti. What claime laies she to thee?
  Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your
horse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing
a beast she would haue me, but that she being a verie
beastly creature layes claime to me
   Anti. What is she?
  Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man
may not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue
but leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous
fat marriage
   Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage?
  Dro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease,
and I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a
Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I
warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne
a Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne
a weeke longer then the whole World
   Anti. What complexion is she of?
  Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like
so cleane kept: for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes
in the grime of it
   Anti. That's a fault that water will mend
   Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not
   Anti. What's her name?
  Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's
an Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip
   Anti. Then she beares some bredth?
  Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe
to hippe: she is sphericall, like a globe: I could find out
Countries in her
   Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland?
  Dro. Marry sir in her buttockes, I found it out by
   Ant. Where Scotland?
  Dro. I found it by the barrennesse, hard in the palme
   Ant. Where France?
  Dro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making
warre against her heire
   Ant. Where England?
  Dro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find
no whitenesse in them. But I guesse, it stood in her chin
by the salt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it
   Ant. Where Spaine?
  Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth
   Ant. Where America, the Indies?
  Dro. Oh sir, vpon her nose, all ore embellished with
Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Aspect
to the hot breath of Spaine, who sent whole Armadoes
of Carrects to be ballast at her nose
   Anti. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?
  Dro. Oh sir, I did not looke so low. To conclude,
this drudge or Diuiner layd claime to mee, call'd mee
Dromio, swore I was assur'd to her, told me what priuie
markes I had about mee, as the marke of my shoulder,
the Mole in my necke, the great Wart on my left arme,
that I amaz'd ranne from her as a witch. And I thinke, if
my brest had not beene made of faith, and my heart of
steele, she had transform'd me to a Curtull dog, & made
me turne i'th wheele
   Anti. Go hie thee presently, post to the rode,
And if the winde blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this Towne to night.
If any Barke put forth, come to the Mart,
Where I will walke till thou returne to me:
If euerie one knowes vs, and we know none,
'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone
   Dro. As from a Beare a man would run for life,
So flie I from her that would be my wife.
  Anti. There's none but Witches do inhabite heere,
And therefore 'tis hie time that I were hence:
She that doth call me husband, euen my soule
Doth for a wife abhorre. But her faire sister
Possest with such a gentle soueraigne grace,
Of such inchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me Traitor to my selfe:
But least my selfe be guilty to selfe wrong,
Ile stop mine eares against the Mermaids song.
Enter Angelo with the Chaine.
  Ang. Mr Antipholus
   Anti. I that's my name
   Ang. I know it well sir, loe here's the chaine,
I thought to haue tane you at the Porpentine,
The chaine vnfinish'd made me stay thus long
   Anti. What is your will that I shal do with this?
  Ang. What please your selfe sir: I haue made it for
   Anti. Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not
   Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you
Go home with it, and please your Wife withall,
And soone at supper time Ile visit you,
And then receiue my money for the chaine
   Anti. I pray you sir receiue the money now.
For feare you ne're see chaine, nor mony more
   Ang. You are a merry man sir, fare you well.
  Ant. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell:
But this I thinke, there's no man is so vaine,
That would refuse so faire an offer'd Chaine.
I see a man heere needs not liue by shifts,
When in the streets he meetes such Golden gifts:
Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio stay,
If any ship put out, then straight away.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer.
  Mar. You know since Pentecost the sum is due,
And since I haue not much importun'd you,
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want Gilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or Ile attach you by this Officer
   Gold. Euen iust the sum that I do owe to you,
Is growing to me by Antipholus,
And in the instant that I met with you,
He had of me a Chaine, at fiue a clocke
I shall receiue the money for the same:
Pleaseth you walke with me downe to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thanke you too.
Enter Antipholus Ephes.Dromio from the Courtizans.
  Offi. That labour may you saue: See where he comes
   Ant. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou
And buy a ropes end, that will I bestow
Among my wife, and their confederates,
For locking me out of my doores by day:
But soft I see the Goldsmith; get thee gone,
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me
   Dro. I buy a thousand pound a yeare, I buy a rope.
  Eph.Ant. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you,
I promised your presence, and the Chaine,
But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me:
Belike you thought our loue would last too long
If it were chain'd together: and therefore came not
   Gold. Sauing your merrie humor: here's the note
How much your Chaine weighs to the vtmost charect,
The finenesse of the Gold, and chargefull fashion,
Which doth amount to three odde Duckets more
Then I stand debted to this Gentleman,
I pray you see him presently discharg'd,
For he is bound to Sea, and stayes but for it
   Anti. I am not furnish'd with the present monie:
Besides I haue some businesse in the towne,
Good Signior take the stranger to my house,
And with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife
Disburse the summe, on the receit thereof,
Perchance I will be there as soone as you
   Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your
   Anti. No beare it with you, least I come not time enough
   Gold. Well sir, I will? Haue you the Chaine about
  Ant. And if I haue not sir, I hope you haue:
Or else you may returne without your money
   Gold. Nay come I pray you sir, giue me the Chaine:
Both winde and tide stayes for this Gentleman,
And I too blame haue held him heere too long
   Anti. Good Lord, you vse this dalliance to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine,
I should haue chid you for not bringing it,
But like a shrew you first begin to brawle
   Mar. The houre steales on, I pray you sir dispatch
   Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine
   Ant. Why giue it to my wife, and fetch your mony
   Gold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now.
Either send the Chaine, or send me by some token
   Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath,
Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me see it
   Mar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance,
Good sir say, whe'r you'l answer me, or no:
If not, Ile leaue him to the Officer
   Ant. I answer you? What should I answer you
   Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine
   Ant. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine
   Gold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since
   Ant. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to
   Gold. You wrong me more sir in denying it.
Consider how it stands vpon my credit
   Mar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite
   Offi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey
   Gold. This touches me in reputation.
Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Or I attach you by this Officer
   Ant. Consent to pay thee that I neuer had:
Arrest me foolish fellow if thou dar'st
   Gold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer.
I would not spare my brother in this case,
If he should scorne me so apparantly
   Offic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite
   Ant. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile.
But sirrah, you shall buy this sport as deere,
As all the mettall in your shop will answer
   Gold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.
Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay.
  Dro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium,
That staies but till her Owner comes aboord,
And then sir she beares away. Our fraughtage sir,
I haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought
The Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae.
The ship is in her trim, the merrie winde
Blowes faire from land: they stay for nought at all,
But for their Owner, Master, and your selfe
   An. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep
What ship of Epidamium staies for me
   S.Dro. A ship you sent me too, to hier waftage
   Ant. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope,
And told thee to what purpose, and what end
   S.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone,
You sent me to the Bay sir, for a Barke
   Ant. I will debate this matter at more leisure
And teach your eares to list me with more heede:
To Adriana Villaine hie thee straight:
Giue her this key, and tell her in the Deske
That's couer'd o're with Turkish Tapistrie,
There is a purse of Duckets, let her send it:
Tell her, I am arrested in the streete,
And that shall baile me: hie thee slaue, be gone,
On Officer to prison, till it come.
  S.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd,
Where Dowsabell did claime me for her husband,
She is too bigge I hope for me to compasse,
Thither I must, although against my will:
For seruants must their Masters mindes fulfill.
Enter Adriana and Luciana.
  Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
Might'st thou perceiue austeerely in his eie,
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no:
Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily?
What obseruation mad'st thou in this case?
Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face
   Luc. First he deni'de you had in him no right
   Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight
  Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger heere
   Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworne hee
   Luc. Then pleaded I for you
   Adr. And what said he?
  Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me
   Adr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue?
  Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might moue.
First, he did praise my beautie, then my speech
   Adr. Did'st speake him faire?
  Luc. Haue patience I beseech
   Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still.
My tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,
Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapelesse euery where:
Vicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde,
Stigmaticall in making worse in minde
   Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one?
No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone
   Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say:
And yet would herein others eies were worse:
Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away;
My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse.
Enter S.Dromio.
  Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make
   Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?
  S.Dro. By running fast
   Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well?
  S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell:
A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him;
On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele:
A Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe:
A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe:
A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that counterma[n]ds
The passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands:
A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,
One that before the Iudgme[n]t carries poore soules to hel
   Adr. Why man, what is the matter?
  S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on
   Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite?
  S.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well;
but is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell,
will you send him Mistris redemption, the monie in
   Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at.
Exit Luciana.
Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt:
Tell me, was he arested on a band?
  S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing:
A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring
   Adria. What, the chaine?
  S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone:
It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one
   Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here
   S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes
backe for verie feare
   Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou
  S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then
he's worth to season.
Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say,
That time comes stealing on by night and day?
If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way,
Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?
Enter Luciana.
  Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight,
And bring thy Master home imediately.
Come sister, I am prest downe with conceit:
Conceit, my comfort and my iniurie.
Enter Antipholus Siracusia.
There's not a man I meete but doth salute me
As if I were their well acquainted friend,
And euerie one doth call me by my name:
Some tender monie to me, some inuite me;
Some other giue me thankes for kindnesses;
Some offer me Commodities to buy.
Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop,
And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,
And therewithall tooke measure of my body.
Sure these are but imaginarie wiles,
And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.
Enter Dromio. Sir.
  S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what
haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd?
  Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou
  S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but
that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the
calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that
came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you forsake
your libertie
   Ant. I vnderstand thee not
   S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like
a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when
gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them:
he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them
suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more exploits
with his Mace, then a Moris Pike
   Ant. What thou mean'st an officer?
  S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings
any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that
thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue
you good rest
   Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie:
Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone?
  S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since,
that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then
were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy
Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer
   Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I,
And here we wander in illusions:
Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence.
Enter a Curtizan.
  Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus:
I see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now:
Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day
   Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not
   S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan?
  Ant. It is the diuell
   S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam:
And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and
thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's
as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is written,
they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an
effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will
burne, come not neere her
   Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir.
Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?
  S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake
a long spoone
   Ant. Why Dromio?
  S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must
eate with the diuell
   Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping?
Thou art, as you are all a sorceresse:
I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon
   Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd,
And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you
   S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile,
a rush, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherriestone:
but she more couetous, wold haue a chaine: Master
be wise, and if you giue it her, the diuell will shake
her Chaine, and fright vs with it
   Cur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine,
I hope you do not meane to cheate me so?
  Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go
   S.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that
  Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad,
Else would he neuer so demeane himselfe,
A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets,
And for the same he promis'd me a Chaine,
Both one and other he denies me now:
The reason that I gather he is mad,
Besides this present instance of his rage,
Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
Of his owne doores being shut against his entrance.
Belike his wife acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the doores against his way:
My way is now to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,
He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce
My Ring away. This course I fittest choose,
For fortie Duckets is too much to loose.
Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor.
  An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away,
Ile giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money
To warrant thee as I am rested for.
My wife is in a wayward moode to day,
And will not lightly trust the Messenger,
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus,
I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares.
Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end.
Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie.
How now sir? Haue you that I sent you for?
  E.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all
   Anti. But where's the Money?
  E.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope
   Ant. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope?
  E.Dro. Ile serue you sir fiue hundred at the rate
   Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?
  E.Dro. To a ropes end sir, and to that end am I return'd
   Ant. And to that end sir, I will welcome you
   Offi. Good sir be patient
   E.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduersitie
   Offi. Good now hold thy tongue
   E.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands
   Anti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine
   E.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might
not feele your blowes
   Anti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and
so is an Asse
   E.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by
my long eares. I haue serued him from the houre of my
Natiuitie to this instant, and haue nothing at his hands
for my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates
me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with
beating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with
it when I sit, driuen out of doores with it when I goe
from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay
I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat:
and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with
it from doore to doore.
Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoolemaster, call'd
  Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder
   E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather
the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end
   Anti. Wilt thou still talke?
  Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?
  Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse:
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,
Establish him in his true sence againe,
And I will please you what you will demand
   Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes
   Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie
   Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your
   Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare
   Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man,
To yeeld possession to my holie praiers,
And to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight,
I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen
   Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad
   Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule
   Anti. You Minion you, are these your Customers?
Did this Companion with the saffron face
Reuell and feast it at my house to day,
Whil'st vpon me the guiltie doores were shut,
And I denied to enter in my house
   Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home
Where would you had remain'd vntill this time,
Free from these slanders, and this open shame
   Anti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest
  Dro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home
   Ant. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out?
  Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you shut
   Anti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there?
  Dro. Sans Fable, she her selfe reuil'd you there
   Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and
  Dro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you
   Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence?
  Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witnesse,
That since haue felt the vigor of his rage
   Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries?
  Pinch. It is no shame, the fellow finds his vaine,
And yeelding to him, humors well his frensie
   Ant. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest
   Adr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you,
By Dromio heere, who came in hast for it
   Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might,
But surely Master not a ragge of Monie
   Ant. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets
   Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it
   Luci. And I am witnesse with her that she did:
  Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witnesse,
That I was sent for nothing but a rope
   Pinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest,
I know it by their pale and deadly lookes,
They must be bound and laide in some darke roome
   Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day,
And why dost thou denie the bagge of gold?
  Adr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth
   Dro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold:
But I confesse sir, that we were lock'd out
   Adr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both
  Ant. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all,
And art confederate with a damned packe,
To make a loathsome abiect scorne of me:
But with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes,
That would behold in me this shamefull sport.
Enter three or foure, and offer to binde him: Hee striues.
  Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come
   Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him
  Luc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks
   Ant. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou?
I am thy prisoner, wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue?
  Offi. Masters let him go: he is my prisoner, and you
shall not haue him
   Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too
   Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himselfe?
  Offi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go,
The debt he owes will be requir'd of me
   Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee,
Beare me forthwith vnto his Creditor,
And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it.
Good Master Doctor see him safe conuey'd
Home to my house, oh most vnhappy day
   Ant. Oh most vnhappie strumpet
   Dro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you
   Ant. Out on thee Villaine, wherefore dost thou mad
  Dro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good
Master, cry the diuell
   Luc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they
   Adr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me:
Say now, whose suite is he arrested at?
Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan
  Off. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him?
  Adr. I know the man: what is the summe he owes?
  Off. Two hundred Duckets
   Adr. Say, how growes it due
   Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him
   Adr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not
   Cur. When as your husband all in rage to day
Came to my house, and tooke away my Ring,
The Ring I saw vpon his finger now,
Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine
   Adr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it.
Come Iailor, bring me where the Goldsmith is,
I long to know the truth heereof at large.
Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, and Dromio
  Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe
   Adr. And come with naked swords,
Let's call more helpe to haue them bound againe.
Runne all out.
  Off. Away, they'l kill vs.
Exeunt. omnes, as fast as may be, frighted.
  S.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords
   S.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from
   Ant. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from
I long that we were safe and sound aboord
   Dro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do
vs no harme: you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold:
me thinkes they are such a gentle Nation, that but for
the Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes mariage of me,
I could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne
   Ant. I will not stay to night for all the Towne,
Therefore away, to get our stuffe aboord.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith.
  Gold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you,
But I protest he had the Chaine of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth denie it
   Mar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie?
  Gold. Of very reuerent reputation sir,
Of credit infinite, highly belou'd,
Second to none that liues heere in the Citie:
His word might beare my wealth at any time
   Mar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.
Enter Antipholus and Dromio againe.
  Gold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke,
Which he forswore most monstrously to haue.
Good sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him:
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble,
And not without some scandall to your selfe,
With circumstance and oaths, so to denie
This Chaine, which now you weare so openly.
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You haue done wrong to this my honest friend,
Who but for staying on our Controuersie,
Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day:
This Chaine you had of me, can you deny it?
  Ant. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it
   Mar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too
   Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it?
  Mar. These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee:
Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou liu'st
To walke where any honest men resort
   Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus,
Ile proue mine honor, and mine honestie
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand:
  Mar. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine.
They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others.
  Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad,
Some get within him, take his sword away:
Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my house
   S.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house,
This is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd.
Exeunt. to the Priorie.
Enter Ladie Abbesse.
  Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?
  Adr. To fetch my poore distracted husband hence,
Let vs come in, that we may binde him fast,
And beare him home for his recouerie
   Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits
   Mar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him
   Ab. How long hath this possession held the man
   Adr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad,
And much different from the man he was:
But till this afternoone his passion
Ne're brake into extremity of rage
   Ab. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea,
Buried some deere friend, hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue,
A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men,
Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too?
  Adr. To none of these, except it be the last,
Namely, some loue that drew him oft from home
   Ab. You should for that haue reprehended him
   Adr. Why so I did
   Ab. I but not rough enough
   Adr. As roughly as my modestie would let me
   Ab. Haply in priuate
   Adr. And in assemblies too
   Ab. I, but not enough
   Adr. It was the copie of our Conference.
In bed he slept not for my vrging it,
At boord he fed not for my vrging it:
Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame:
In company I often glanced it:
Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad
   Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad.
The venome clamors of a iealous woman,
Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth.
It seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing,
And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings,
Vnquiet meales make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred,
And what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse?
Thou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles.
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moodie and dull melancholly,
Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire,
And at her heeles a huge infectious troope
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preseruing rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast:
The consequence is then, thy iealous fits
Hath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits
   Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely,
When he demean'd himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly,
Why beare you these rebukes, and answer not?
  Adri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe,
Good people enter, and lay hold on him
   Ab. No, not a creature enters in my house
   Ad. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth
  Ab. Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary,
And it shall priuiledge him from your hands,
Till I haue brought him to his wits againe,
Or loose my labour in assaying it
   Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sicknesse, for it is my Office,
And will haue no atturney but my selfe,
And therefore let me haue him home with me
   Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre,
Till I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue,
With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers
To make of him a formall man againe:
It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,
A charitable dutie of my order,
Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me
   Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere:
And ill it doth beseeme your holinesse
To separate the husband and the wife
   Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him
   Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity
   Adr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete,
And neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers
Haue won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse
   Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue:
Anon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person
Comes this way to the melancholly vale;
The place of depth, and sorrie execution,
Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere
   Gold. Vpon what cause?
  Mar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant,
Who put vnluckily into this Bay
Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,
Beheaded publikely for his offence
   Gold. See where they come, we wil behold his death
  Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey.
Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare
the Headsman, & other Officers.
  Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely,
If any friend will pay the summe for him,
He shall not die, so much we tender him
   Adr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse
   Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady,
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong
   Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husba[n]d,
Who I made Lord of me, and all I had,
At your important Letters this ill day,
A most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him:
That desp'rately he hurried through the streete,
With him his bondman, all as mad as he,
Doing displeasure to the Citizens,
By rushing in their houses: bearing thence
Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whil'st to take order for the wrongs I went,
That heere and there his furie had committed,
Anon I wot not, by what strong escape
He broke from those that had the guard of him,
And with his mad attendant and himselfe,
Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords
Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs
Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide
We came againe to binde them: then they fled
Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them,
And heere the Abbesse shuts the gates on vs,
And will not suffer vs to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence.
Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe
   Duke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars
And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word,
When thou didst make him Master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.
Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate,
And bid the Lady Abbesse come to me:
I will determine this before I stirre.
Enter a Messenger.
Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe,
My Master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,
Whose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of fire,
And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him
Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire;
My Mr preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with Cizers nickes him like a foole:
And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe)
Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer
   Adr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here,
And that is false thou dost report to vs
   Mess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true,
I haue not breath'd almost since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you,
To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:
Harke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone
   Duke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with
   Adr. Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you,
That he is borne about inuisible,
Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere.
And now he's there, past thought of humane reason.
Enter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus.
  E.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iustice,
Euen for the seruice that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke
Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me iustice
   Mar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me
dote, I see my sonne Antipholus and Dromio
   E.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against y Woman there:
She whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife;
That hath abused and dishonored me,
Euen in the strength and height of iniurie:
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me
   Duke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust
   E.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores
While she with Harlots feasted in my house
   Duke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so?
  Adr. No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister,
To day did dine together: so befall my soule,
As this is false he burthens me withall
   Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night,
But she tels to your Highnesse simple truth
   Gold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne,
In this the Madman iustly chargeth them
   E.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say,
Neither disturbed with the effect of Wine,
Nor headie-rash prouoak'd with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witnesse it: for he was with me then,
Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthasar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not comming thither,
I went to seeke him. In the street I met him,
And in his companie that Gentleman.
There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe,
That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine,
Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which,
He did arrest me with an Officer.
I did obey, and sent my Pesant home
For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd.
Then fairely I bespoke the Officer
To go in person with me to my house.
By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine;
A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke,
A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller,
A needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch;
A liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue,
Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me,
Cries out, I was possest. Then altogether
They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a darke and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together,
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedome; and immediately
Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech
To giue me ample satisfaction
For these deepe shames, and great indignities
   Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him:
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out
   Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no?
  Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere,
These people saw the Chaine about his necke
   Mar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine,
Heard you confesse you had the Chaine of him,
After you first forswore it on the Mart,
And thereupon I drew my sword on you:
And then you fled into this Abbey heere,
From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle
   E.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals,
Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me:
I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen:
And this is false you burthen me withall
   Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this?
I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup:
If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.
If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly:
You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere
Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you?
  E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine
   Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring
   E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her
   Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere?
  Curt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace
   Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither.
I thinke you are all mated, or starke mad.
Exit one to the Abbesse.
  Fa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word:
Haply I see a friend will saue my life,
And pay the sum that may deliuer me
   Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt
   Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus?
And is not that your bondman Dromio?
  E.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir,
But he I thanke him gnaw'd in two my cords,
Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound
   Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me
   Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you:
For lately we were bound as you are now.
You are not Pinches patient, are you sir?
  Father. Why looke you strange on me? you know
   E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now
   Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last,
And carefull houres with times deformed hand,
Haue written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
  Ant. Neither
   Fat. Dromio, nor thou?
  Dro. No trust me sir, nor I
   Fa. I am sure thou dost?
  E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer
a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him
   Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue
In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne
Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming Winters drizled snow,
And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp:
Yet hath my night of life some memorie:
My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left;
My dull deafe eares a little vse to heare:
All these old witnesses, I cannot erre.
Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus
   Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life
   Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy
Thou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie
   Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City,
Can witnesse with me that it is not so.
I ne're saw Siracusa in my life
   Duke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares
Haue I bin Patron to Antipholus,
During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa:
I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Enter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir.
  Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much
All gather to see them.
  Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me
   Duke. One of these men is genius to the other:
And so of these, which is the naturall man,
And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?
  S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away
   E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay
   S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost
   S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him
  Abb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds,
And gaine a husband by his libertie:
Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man
That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia,
That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes?
Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake:
And speake vnto the same Aemilia
   Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right:
These two Antipholus, these two so like,
And these two Dromio's, one in semblance:
Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea,
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together
   Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia,
If thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne
That floated with thee on the fatall rafte
   Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp;
But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth
By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them,
And me they left with those of Epidamium.
What then became of them, I cannot tell:
I, to this fortune that you see mee in
   Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first
   S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse
   Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which
   E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord
  E.Dro. And I with him
   E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous
Duke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle
   Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day?
  S.Ant. I, gentle Mistris
   Adr. And are not you my husband?
  E.Ant. No, I say nay to that
   S.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so:
And this faire Gentlewoman her sister heere
Did call me brother. What I told you then,
I hope I shall haue leisure to make good,
If this be not a dreame I see and heare
   Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of
   S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not
   E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me
   Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not
   Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile
By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not
   E.Dro. No, none by me
   S.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you,
And Dromio my man did bring them me:
I see we still did meete each others man,
And I was tane for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these errors are arose
   E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere
   Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life
   Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you
   E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good
   Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines
To go with vs into the Abbey heere,
And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes,
And all that are assembled in this place:
That by this simpathized one daies error
Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie,
And we shall make full satisfaction.
Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile
Of you my sonnes, and till this present houre
My heauie burthen are deliuered:
The Duke my husband, and my children both,
And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity,
Go to a Gossips feast, and go with mee,
After so long greefe such Natiuitie
   Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.
Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers.
  S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord?
  E.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt
  S.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur
   S.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio.
Come go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon,
Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.
  S.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house,
That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife,
  E.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother:
I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth,
Will you walke in to see their gossipping?
  S.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder
   E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it
   S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then,
lead thou first
   E.Dro. Nay then thus:
We came into the world like brother and brother:
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
FINIS. The Comedie of Errors.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Taming of the Shrew
Actus primus. Scaena Prima.
Enter Begger and Hostes, Christophero Sly.
  Begger. Ile pheeze you infaith
   Host. A paire of stockes you rogue
   Beg. Y'are a baggage, the Slies are no
Rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, we came
in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Paucas
pallabris, let the world slide: Sessa
   Host. You will not pay for the glasses you haue burst?
  Beg. No, not a deniere: go by S[aint]. Ieronimie, goe to thy
cold bed, and warme thee
   Host. I know my remedie, I must go fetch the Head-borough
   Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift Borough, Ile answere
him by Law. Ile not budge an inch boy: Let him come,
Falles asleepe.
Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.
  Lo. Huntsman I charge thee, tender wel my hounds,
Brach Meriman, the poore Curre is imbost,
And couple Clowder with the deepe-mouth'd brach,
Saw'st thou not boy how Siluer made it good
At the hedge corner, in the couldest fault,
I would not loose the dogge for twentie pound
   Hunts. Why Belman is as good as he my Lord,
He cried vpon it at the meerest losse,
And twice to day pick'd out the dullest sent,
Trust me, I take him for the better dogge
   Lord. Thou art a Foole, if Eccho were as fleete,
I would esteeme him worth a dozen such:
But sup them well, and looke vnto them all,
To morrow I intend to hunt againe
   Hunts. I will my Lord
   Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth
  2.Hun. He breath's my Lord. Were he not warm'd
with Ale, this were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly
   Lord. Oh monstrous beast, how like a swine he lyes.
Grim death, how foule and loathsome is thine image:
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What thinke you, if he were conuey'd to bed,
Wrap'd in sweet cloathes: Rings put vpon his fingers:
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And braue attendants neere him when he wakes,
Would not the begger then forget himselfe?
  1.Hun. Beleeue me Lord, I thinke he cannot choose
   2.H. It would seem strange vnto him when he wak'd
  Lord. Euen as a flatt'ring dreame, or worthles fancie.
Then take him vp, and manage well the iest:
Carrie him gently to my fairest Chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:
Balme his foule head in warme distilled waters,
And burne sweet Wood to make the Lodging sweete:
Procure me Musicke readie when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heauenly sound:
And if he chance to speake, be readie straight
(And with a lowe submissiue reuerence)
Say, what is it your Honor wil command:
Let one attend him with a siluer Bason
Full of Rose-water, and bestrew'd with Flowers,
Another beare the Ewer: the third a Diaper,
And say wilt please your Lordship coole your hands.
Some one be readie with a costly suite,
And aske him what apparrel he will weare:
Another tell him of his Hounds and Horse,
And that his Ladie mournes at his disease,
Perswade him that he hath bin Lunaticke,
And when he sayes he is, say that he dreames,
For he is nothing but a mightie Lord:
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs,
It wil be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modestie
   1.Hunts. My Lord I warrant you we wil play our part
As he shall thinke by our true diligence
He is no lesse then what we say he is
   Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him,
And each one to his office when he wakes.
Sound trumpets.
Sirrah, go see what Trumpet 'tis that sounds,
Belike some Noble Gentleman that meanes
(Trauelling some iourney) to repose him heere.
Enter Seruingman.
How now? who is it?
  Ser. An't please your Honor, Players
That offer seruice to your Lordship.
Enter Players.
  Lord. Bid them come neere:
Now fellowes, you are welcome
   Players. We thanke your Honor
   Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night?
  2.Player. So please your Lordshippe to accept our
   Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he plaide a Farmers eldest sonne,
'Twas where you woo'd the Gentlewoman so well:
I haue forgot your name: but sure that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd
   Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes
   Lord. 'Tis verie true, thou didst it excellent:
Well you are come to me in happie time,
The rather for I haue some sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a Lord will heare you play to night;
But I am doubtfull of your modesties,
Least (ouer-eying of his odde behauiour,
For yet his honor neuer heard a play)
You breake into some merrie passion,
And so offend him: for I tell you sirs,
If you should smile, he growes impatient
   Plai. Feare not my Lord, we can contain our selues,
Were he the veriest anticke in the world
   Lord. Go sirra, take them to the Butterie,
And giue them friendly welcome euerie one,
Let them want nothing that my house affoords.
Exit one with the Players.
Sirra go you to Bartholmew my Page,
And see him drest in all suites like a Ladie:
That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber,
And call him Madam, do him obeisance:
Tell him from me (as he will win my loue)
He beare himselfe with honourable action,
Such as he hath obseru'd in noble Ladies
Vnto their Lords, by them accomplished,
Such dutie to the drunkard let him do:
With soft lowe tongue, and lowly curtesie,
And say: What is't your Honor will command,
Wherein your Ladie, and your humble wife,
May shew her dutie, and make knowne her loue.
And then with kinde embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosome
Bid him shed teares, as being ouer-ioyed
To see her noble Lord restor'd to health,
Who for this seuen yeares hath esteemed him
No better then a poore and loathsome begger:
And if the boy haue not a womans guift
To raine a shower of commanded teares,
An Onion wil do well for such a shift,
Which in a Napkin (being close conuei'd)
Shall in despight enforce a waterie eie:
See this dispatch'd with all the hast thou canst,
Anon Ile giue thee more instructions.
Exit a seruingman.
I know the boy will wel vsurpe the grace,
Voice, gate, and action of a Gentlewoman:
I long to heare him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themselues from laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant,
Ile in to counsell them: haply my presence
May well abate the ouer-merrie spleene,
Which otherwise would grow into extreames.
Enter aloft the drunkard with attendants, some with apparel, Bason
Ewer, & other appurtenances, & Lord.
  Beg. For Gods sake a pot of small Ale
   1.Ser. Wilt please your Lord drink a cup of sacke?
  2.Ser. Wilt please your Honor taste of these Conserues?
  3.Ser. What raiment wil your honor weare to day
   Beg. I am Christophero Sly, call not mee Honour nor
Lordship: I ne're drank sacke in my life: and if you giue
me any Conserues, giue me conserues of Beefe: nere ask
me what raiment Ile weare, for I haue no more doublets
then backes: no more stockings then legges: nor
no more shooes then feet, nay sometime more feete then
shooes, or such shooes as my toes looke through the ouer-leather
   Lord. Heauen cease this idle humor in your Honor.
Oh that a mightie man of such discent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteeme
Should be infused with so foule a spirit
   Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher
Slie, old Slies sonne of Burton-heath, by byrth a
Pedler, by education a Cardmaker, by transmutation a
Beare-heard, and now by present profession a Tinker.
Aske Marrian Hacket the fat Alewife of Wincot, if shee
know me not: if she say I am not xiiii.d. on the score for
sheere Ale, score me vp for the lyingst knaue in Christen
dome. What I am not bestraught: here's-
  3.Man. Oh this it is that makes your Ladie mourne
   2.Man. Oh this is it that makes your seruants droop
   Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shuns your house
As beaten hence by your strange Lunacie.
Oh Noble Lord, bethinke thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abiect lowlie dreames:
Looke how thy seruants do attend on thee,
Each in his office readie at thy becke.
Wilt thou haue Musicke? Harke Apollo plaies,
And twentie caged Nightingales do sing.
Or wilt thou sleepe? Wee'l haue thee to a Couch,
Softer and sweeter then the lustfull bed
On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walke: we wil bestrow the ground.
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shal be trap'd,
Their harnesse studded all with Gold and Pearle.
Dost thou loue hawking? Thou hast hawkes will soare
Aboue the morning Larke. Or wilt thou hunt,
Thy hounds shall make the Welkin answer them
And fetch shrill ecchoes from the hollow earth
   1.Man. Say thou wilt course, thy gray-hounds are as swift
As breathed Stags: I fleeter then the Roe
   2.M. Dost thou loue pictures? we wil fetch thee strait
Adonis painted by a running brooke,
And Citherea all in sedges hid,
Which seeme to moue and wanton with her breath,
Euen as the wauing sedges play with winde
   Lord. Wee'l shew thee Io, as she was a Maid,
And how she was beguiled and surpriz'd,
As liuelie painted, as the deede was done
   3.Man. Or Daphne roming through a thornie wood,
Scratching her legs, that one shal sweare she bleeds,
And at that sight shal sad Apollo weepe,
So workmanlie the blood and teares are drawne
   Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord:
Thou hast a Ladie farre more Beautifull,
Then any woman in this waining age
   1.Man. And til the teares that she hath shed for thee,
Like enuious flouds ore-run her louely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world,
And yet shee is inferiour to none
   Beg. Am I a Lord, and haue I such a Ladie?
Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now?
I do not sleepe: I see, I heare, I speake:
I smel sweet sauours, and I feele soft things:
Vpon my life I am a Lord indeede,
And not a Tinker, nor Christopher Slie.
Well, bring our Ladie hither to our sight,
And once againe a pot o'th smallest Ale
   2.Man. Wilt please your mightinesse to wash your
Oh how we ioy to see your wit restor'd,
Oh that once more you knew but what you are:
These fifteene yeeres you haue bin in a dreame,
Or when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept
   Beg. These fifteene yeeres, by my fay, a goodly nap,
But did I neuer speake of all that time
   1.Man. Oh yes my Lord, but verie idle words,
For though you lay heere in this goodlie chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of doore,
And raile vpon the Hostesse of the house,
And say you would present her at the Leete,
Because she brought stone-Iugs, and no seal'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket
   Beg. I, the womans maide of the house
   3.Man. Why sir you know no house, nor no such maid
Nor no such men as you haue reckon'd vp,
As Stephen Slie, and old Iohn Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twentie more such names and men as these,
Which neuer were, nor no man euer saw
   Beg. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends
   All. Amen.
Enter Lady with Attendants.
  Beg. I thanke thee, thou shalt not loose by it
   Lady. How fares my noble Lord?
  Beg. Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheere enough.
Where is my wife?
  La. Heere noble Lord, what is thy will with her?
  Beg. Are you my wife, and will not cal me husband?
My men should call me Lord, I am your good-man
   La. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband
I am your wife in all obedience
   Beg. I know it well, what must I call her?
  Lord. Madam
   Beg. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam?
  Lord. Madam, and nothing else, so Lords cal Ladies
  Beg. Madame wife, they say that I haue dream'd,
And slept aboue some fifteene yeare or more
   Lady. I, and the time seeme's thirty vnto me,
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed
   Beg. 'Tis much, seruants leaue me and her alone:
Madam vndresse you, and come now to bed
   La. Thrice noble Lord, let me intreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two:
Or if not so, vntill the Sun be set.
For your Physitians haue expressely charg'd,
In perill to incurre your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed:
I hope this reason stands for my excuse
   Beg. I, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long:
But I would be loth to fall into my dreames againe: I
wil therefore tarrie in despight of the flesh & the blood
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Your Honors Players hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant Comedie,
For so your doctors hold it very meete,
Seeing too much sadnesse hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholly is the Nurse of frenzie,
Therefore they thought it good you heare a play,
And frame your minde to mirth and merriment,
Which barres a thousand harmes, and lengthens life
   Beg. Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Comontie,
a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling tricke?
  Lady. No my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuffe
   Beg. What, houshold stuffe
   Lady. It is a kinde of history
   Beg. Well, we'l see't:
Come Madam wife sit by my side,
And let the world slip, we shall nere be yonger.
Flourish. Enter Lucentio, and his man Triano.
  Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see faire Padua, nurserie of Arts,
I am arriu'd for fruitfull Lumbardie,
The pleasant garden of great Italy,
And by my fathers loue and leaue am arm'd
With his good will, and thy good companie.
My trustie seruant well approu'd in all,
Heere let vs breath, and haply institute
A course of Learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa renowned for graue Citizens
Gaue me my being, and my father first
A Merchant of great Trafficke through the world:
Vincentio's come of the Bentiuolij,
Vincentio's sonne, brought vp in Florence,
It shall become to serue all hopes conceiu'd
To decke his fortune with his vertuous deedes:
And therefore Tranio, for the time I studie,
Vertue and that part of Philosophie
Will I applie, that treats of happinesse,
By vertue specially to be atchieu'd.
Tell me thy minde, for I haue Pisa left,
And am to Padua come, as he that leaues
A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deepe,
And with sacietie seekes to quench his thirst
   Tra. Me Pardonato, gentle master mine:
I am in all affected as your selfe,
Glad that you thus continue your resolue,
To sucke the sweets of sweete Philosophie.
Onely (good master) while we do admire
This vertue, and this morall discipline,
Let's be no Stoickes, nor no stockes I pray,
Or so deuote to Aristotles checkes
As Ouid; be an out-cast quite abiur'd:
Balke Lodgicke with acquaintance that you haue,
And practise Rhetoricke in your common talke,
Musicke and Poesie vse, to quicken you,
The Mathematickes, and the Metaphysickes
Fall to them as you finde your stomacke serues you:
No profit growes, where is no pleasure tane:
In briefe sir, studie what you most affect
   Luc. Gramercies Tranio, well dost thou aduise,
If Biondello thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put vs in readinesse,
And take a Lodging fit to entertaine
Such friends (as time) in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while, what companie is this?
  Tra. Master some shew to welcome vs to Towne.
Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katerina & Bianca, Gremio
Pantelowne, Hortentio sister to Bianca. Lucen. Tranio, stand by.
  Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,
For how I firmly am resolu'd you know:
That is, not to bestow my yongest daughter,
Before I haue a husband for the elder:
If either of you both loue Katherina,
Because I know you well, and loue you well,
Leaue shall you haue to court her at your pleasure
   Gre. To cart her rather. She's to rough for mee,
There, there Hortensio, will you any Wife?
  Kate. I pray you sir, is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates?
  Hor. Mates maid, how meane you that?
No mates for you,
Vnlesse you were of gentler milder mould
   Kate. I'faith sir, you shall neuer neede to feare,
Iwis it is not halfe way to her heart:
But if it were, doubt not, her care should be,
To combe your noddle with a three-legg'd stoole,
And paint your face, and vse you like a foole
   Hor. From all such diuels, good Lord deliuer vs
   Gre. And me too, good Lord
   Tra. Husht master, heres some good pastime toward;
That wench is starke mad, or wonderfull froward
   Lucen. But in the others silence do I see,
Maids milde behauiour and sobrietie.
Peace Tranio
   Tra. Well said Mr, mum, and gaze your fill
   Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soone make good
What I haue said, Bianca get you in,
And let it not displease thee good Bianca,
For I will loue thee nere the lesse my girle
   Kate. A pretty peate, it is best put finger in the eye,
and she knew why
   Bian. Sister content you, in my discontent.
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:
My bookes and instruments shall be my companie,
On them to looke, and practise by my selfe
   Luc. Harke Tranio, thou maist heare Minerua speak
   Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange,
Sorrie am I that our good will effects
Bianca's greefe
   Gre. Why will you mew her vp
(Signior Baptista) for this fiend of hell,
And make her beare the pennance of her tongue
   Bap. Gentlemen content ye: I am resolud:
Go in Bianca.
And for I know she taketh most delight
In Musicke, Instruments, and Poetry,
Schoolemasters will I keepe within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth. If you Hortensio,
Or signior Gremio you know any such,
Preferre them hither: for to cunning men,
I will be very kinde and liberall,
To mine owne children, in good bringing vp,
And so farewell: Katherina you may stay,
For I haue more to commune with Bianca.
  Kate. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not?
What shall I be appointed houres, as though
(Belike) I knew not what to take,
And what to leaue? Ha.
  Gre. You may go to the diuels dam: your guifts are
so good heere's none will holde you: Their loue is not
so great Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together,
and fast it fairely out. Our cakes dough on both sides.
Farewell: yet for the loue I beare my sweet Bianca, if
I can by any meanes light on a fit man to teach her that
wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father
   Hor. So will I signiour Gremio: but a word I pray:
Though the nature of our quarrell yet neuer brook'd
parle, know now vpon aduice, it toucheth vs both: that
we may yet againe haue accesse to our faire Mistris, and
be happie riuals in Bianca's loue, to labour and effect
one thing specially
   Gre. What's that I pray?
  Hor. Marrie sir to get a husband for her Sister
   Gre. A husband: a diuell
   Hor. I say a husband
   Gre. I say, a diuell: Think'st thou Hortensio, though
her father be verie rich, any man is so verie a foole to be
married to hell?
  Hor. Tush Gremio: though it passe your patience &
mine to endure her lowd alarums, why man there bee
good fellowes in the world, and a man could light on
them, would take her with all faults, and mony enough
   Gre. I cannot tell: but I had as lief take her dowrie
with this condition; To be whipt at the hie crosse euerie
   Hor. Faith (as you say) there's small choise in rotten
apples: but come, since this bar in law makes vs friends,
it shall be so farre forth friendly maintain'd, till by helping
Baptistas eldest daughter to a husband, wee set his
yongest free for a husband, and then haue too't afresh:
Sweet Bianca, happy man be his dole: hee that runnes
fastest, gets the Ring: How say you signior Gremio?
  Grem. I am agreed, and would I had giuen him the
best horse in Padua to begin his woing that would thoroughly
woe her, wed her, and bed her, and ridde the
house of her. Come on.
Exeunt. ambo. Manet Tranio and Lucentio
  Tra. I pray sir tel me, is it possible
That loue should of a sodaine take such hold
   Luc. Oh Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I neuer thought it possible or likely.
But see, while idely I stood looking on,
I found the effect of Loue in idlenesse,
And now in plainnesse do confesse to thee
That art to me as secret and as deere
As Anna to the Queene of Carthage was:
Tranio I burne, I pine, I perish Tranio,
If I atchieue not this yong modest gyrle:
Counsaile me Tranio, for I know thou canst:
Assist me Tranio, for I know thou wilt
   Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now,
Affection is not rated from the heart:
If loue haue touch'd you, naught remaines but so,
Redime te captam quam queas minimo
   Luc. Gramercies Lad: Go forward, this contents,
The rest wil comfort, for thy counsels sound
   Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maide,
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all
   Luc. Oh yes, I saw sweet beautie in her face,
Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
That made great Ioue to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kist the Cretan strond
   Tra. Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how hir sister
Began to scold, and raise vp such a storme,
That mortal eares might hardly indure the din
   Luc. Tranio, I saw her corrall lips to moue,
And with her breath she did perfume the ayre,
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her
   Tra. Nay, then 'tis time to stirre him fro[m] his trance:
I pray awake sir: if you loue the Maide,
Bend thoughts and wits to atcheeue her. Thus it stands:
Her elder sister is so curst and shrew'd,
That til the Father rid his hands of her,
Master, your Loue must liue a maide at home,
And therefore has he closely meu'd her vp,
Because she will not be annoy'd with suters
   Luc. Ah Tranio, what a cruell Fathers he:
But art thou not aduis'd, he tooke some care
To get her cunning Schoolemasters to instruct her
   Tra. I marry am I sir, and now 'tis plotted
   Luc. I haue it Tranio
   Tra. Master, for my hand,
Both our inuentions meet and iumpe in one
   Luc. Tell me thine first
   Tra. You will be schoole-master,
And vndertake the teaching of the maid:
That's your deuice
   Luc. It is: May it be done?
  Tra. Not possible: for who shall beare your part,
And be in Padua heere Vincentio's sonne,
Keepe house, and ply his booke, welcome his friends,
Visit his Countrimen, and banquet them?
  Luc. Basta, content thee: for I haue it full.
We haue not yet bin seene in any house,
Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,
For man or master: then it followes thus;
Thou shalt be master, Tranio in my sted:
Keepe house, and port, and seruants, as I should,
I will some other be, some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.
'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so: Tranio at once
Vncase thee: take my Coulord hat and cloake,
When Biondello comes, he waites on thee,
But I will charme him first to keepe his tongue
   Tra. So had you neede:
In breefe Sir, sith it your pleasure is,
And I am tyed to be obedient,
For so your father charg'd me at our parting:
Be seruiceable to my sonne (quoth he)
Although I thinke 'twas in another sense,
I am content to bee Lucentio,
Because so well I loue Lucentio
   Luc. Tranio be so, because Lucentio loues,
And let me be a slaue, t' atchieue that maide,
Whose sodaine sight hath thral'd my wounded eye.
Enter Biondello.
Heere comes the rogue. Sirra, where haue you bin?
  Bion. Where haue I beene? Nay how now, where
are you? Maister, ha's my fellow Tranio stolne your
cloathes, or you stolne his, or both? Pray what's the
  Luc. Sirra come hither, 'tis no time to iest,
And therefore frame your manners to the time
Your fellow Tranio heere to saue my life,
Puts my apparrell, and my count'nance on,
And I for my escape haue put on his:
For in a quarrell since I came a-shore,
I kil'd a man, and feare I was descried:
Waite you on him, I charge you, as becomes:
While I make way from hence to saue my life:
You vnderstand me?
  Bion. I sir, ne're a whit
   Luc. And not a iot of Tranio in your mouth,
Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio
   Bion. The better for him, would I were so too
   Tra. So could I 'faith boy, to haue the next wish after,
that Lucentio indeede had Baptistas yongest daughter.
But sirra, not for my sake, but your masters, I aduise
you vse your manners discreetly in all kind of companies:
When I am alone, why then I am Tranio: but in
all places else, your master Lucentio
   Luc. Tranio let's go:
One thing more rests, that thy selfe execute,
To make one among these wooers: if thou ask me why,
Sufficeth my reasons are both good and waighty.
Exeunt. The Presenters aboue speakes.
  1.Man. My Lord you nod, you do not minde the
   Beg. Yes by Saint Anne do I, a good matter surely:
Comes there any more of it?
  Lady. My Lord, 'tis but begun
   Beg. 'Tis a verie excellent peece of worke, Madame
Ladie: would 'twere done.
They sit and marke.
Enter Petruchio, and his man Grumio.
  Petr. Verona, for a while I take my leaue,
To see my friends in Padua; but of all
My best beloued and approued friend
Hortensio: & I trow this is his house:
Heere sirra Grumio, knocke I say
   Gru. Knocke sir? whom should I knocke? Is there
any man ha's rebus'd your worship?
  Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me heere soundly
   Gru. Knocke you heere sir? Why sir, what am I sir,
that I should knocke you heere sir
   Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me at this gate,
And rap me well, or Ile knocke your knaues pate
   Gru. My Mr is growne quarrelsome:
I should knocke you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst
   Petr. Will it not be?
'Faith sirrah, and you'l not knocke, Ile ring it,
Ile trie how you can Sol, Fa, and sing it.
He rings him by the eares
  Gru. Helpe mistris helpe, my master is mad
   Petr. Now knocke when I bid you: sirrah villaine.
Enter Hortensio.
  Hor. How now, what's the matter? My olde friend
Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio? How do you all
  Petr. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?
Contutti le core bene trobatto, may I say
   Hor. Alla nostra casa bene venuto multo honorata signior
mio Petruchio.
Rise Grumio rise, we will compound this quarrell
   Gru. Nay 'tis no matter sir, what he leges in Latine.
If this be not a lawfull cause for me to leaue his seruice,
looke you sir: He bid me knocke him, & rap him soundly
sir. Well, was it fit for a seruant to vse his master so,
being perhaps (for ought I see) two and thirty, a peepe
out? Whom would to God I had well knockt at first,
then had not Grumio come by the worst
   Petr. A sencelesse villaine: good Hortensio,
I bad the rascall knocke vpon your gate,
And could not get him for my heart to do it
   Gru. Knocke at the gate? O heauens: spake you not
these words plaine? Sirra, Knocke me heere: rappe me
heere: knocke me well, and knocke me soundly? And
come you now with knocking at the gate?
  Petr. Sirra be gone, or talke not I aduise you
   Hor. Petruchio patience, I am Grumio's pledge:
Why this a heauie chance twixt him and you,
Your ancient trustie pleasant seruant Grumio:
And tell me now (sweet friend) what happie gale
Blowes you to Padua heere, from old Verona?
  Petr. Such wind as scatters yongmen throgh y world,
To seeke their fortunes farther then at home,
Where small experience growes but in a few.
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me,
Antonio my father is deceast,
And I haue thrust my selfe into this maze,
Happily to wiue and thriue, as best I may:
Crownes in my purse I haue, and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world
   Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,
And wish thee to a shrew'd ill-fauour'd wife?
Thou'dst thanke me but a little for my counsell:
And yet Ile promise thee she shall be rich,
And verie rich: but th'art too much my friend,
And Ile not wish thee to her
   Petr. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as wee,
Few words suffice: and therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife:
(As wealth is burthen of my woing dance)
Be she as foule as was Florentius Loue,
As old as Sibell, and as curst and shrow'd
As Socrates Zentippe, or a worse:
She moues me not, or not remoues at least
Affections edge in me. Were she is as rough
As are the swelling Adriaticke seas.
I come to wiue it wealthily in Padua:
If wealthily, then happily in Padua
   Gru. Nay looke you sir, hee tels you flatly what his
minde is: why giue him Gold enough, and marrie him
to a Puppet or an Aglet babie, or an old trot with ne're a
tooth in her head, though she haue as manie diseases as
two and fiftie horses. Why nothing comes amisse, so
monie comes withall
   Hor. Petruchio, since we are stept thus farre in,
I will continue that I broach'd in iest,
I can Petruchio helpe thee to a wife
With wealth enough, and yong and beautious,
Brought vp as best becomes a Gentlewoman.
Her onely fault, and that is faults enough,
Is, that she is intollerable curst,
And shrow'd, and froward, so beyond all measure,
That were my state farre worser then it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of Gold
   Petr. Hortensio peace: thou knowst not golds effect,
Tell me her fathers name, and 'tis enough:
For I will boord her, though she chide as loud
As thunder, when the clouds in Autumne cracke
   Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola,
An affable and courteous Gentleman,
Her name is Katherina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue
   Petr. I know her father, though I know not her,
And he knew my deceased father well:
I wil not sleepe Hortensio til I see her,
And therefore let me be thus bold with you,
To giue you ouer at this first encounter,
Vnlesse you wil accompanie me thither
   Gru . I pray you Sir let him go while the humor lasts.
A my word, and she knew him as wel as I do, she would
thinke scolding would doe little good vpon him. Shee
may perhaps call him halfe a score Knaues, or so: Why
that's nothing; and he begin once, hee'l raile in his rope
trickes. Ile tell you what sir, and she stand him but a litle,
he wil throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure hir
with it, that shee shal haue no more eies to see withall
then a Cat: you know him not sir
   Hor. Tarrie Petruchio, I must go with thee,
For in Baptistas keepe my treasure is:
He hath the Iewel of my life in hold,
His yongest daughter, beautiful Bianca,
And her with-holds from me. Other more
Suters to her, and riuals in my Loue:
Supposing it a thing impossible,
For those defects I haue before rehearst,
That euer Katherina wil be woo'd:
Therefore this order hath Baptista tane,
That none shal haue accesse vnto Bianca,
Til Katherine the Curst, haue got a husband
   Gru. Katherine the curst,
A title for a maide, of all titles the worst
   Hor. Now shal my friend Petruchio do me grace,
And offer me disguis'd in sober robes,
To old Baptista as a schoole-master
Well seene in Musicke, to instruct Bianca,
That so I may by this deuice at least
Haue leaue and leisure to make loue to her,
And vnsuspected court her by her selfe.
Enter Gremio and Lucentio disguised.
  Gru. Heere's no knauerie. See, to beguile the olde-folkes,
how the young folkes lay their heads together.
Master, master, looke about you: Who goes there? ha
   Hor. Peace Grumio, it is the riuall of my Loue.
Petruchio stand by a while
   Grumio. A proper stripling, and an amorous
   Gremio. O very well, I haue perus'd the note:
Hearke you sir, Ile haue them verie fairely bound,
All bookes of Loue, see that at any hand,
And see you reade no other Lectures to her:
You vnderstand me. Ouer and beside
Signior Baptistas liberalitie,
Ile mend it with a Largesse. Take your paper too,
And let me haue them verie wel perfum'd;
For she is sweeter then perfume it selfe
To whom they go to: what wil you reade to her
   Luc. What ere I reade to her, Ile pleade for you,
As for my patron, stand you so assur'd,
As firmely as your selfe were still in place,
Yea and perhaps with more successefull words
Then you; vnlesse you were a scholler sir
   Gre. Oh this learning, what a thing it is
   Gru. Oh this Woodcocke, what an Asse it is
   Petru. Peace sirra
   Hor. Grumio mum: God saue you signior Gremio
   Gre. And you are wel met, Signior Hortensio.
Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola,
I promist to enquire carefully
About a schoolemaster for the faire Bianca,
And by good fortune I haue lighted well
On this yong man: For learning and behauiour
Fit for her turne, well read in Poetrie
And other bookes, good ones, I warrant ye
   Hor. 'Tis well: and I haue met a Gentleman
Hath promist me to helpe one to another,
A fine Musitian to instruct our Mistris,
So shal I no whit be behinde in dutie
To faire Bianca, so beloued of me
   Gre. Beloued of me, and that my deeds shal proue
   Gru. And that his bags shal proue
   Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our loue,
Listen to me, and if you speake me faire,
Ile tel you newes indifferent good for either.
Heere is a Gentleman whom by chance I met
Vpon agreement from vs to his liking,
Will vndertake to woo curst Katherine,
Yea, and to marrie her, if her dowrie please
   Gre. So said, so done, is well:
Hortensio, haue you told him all her faults?
  Petr. I know she is an irkesome brawling scold:
If that be all Masters, I heare no harme
   Gre. No, sayst me so, friend? What Countreyman?
  Petr. Borne in Verona, old Butonios sonne:
My father dead, my fortune liues for me,
And I do hope, good dayes and long, to see
   Gre. Oh sir, such a life with such a wife, were strange:
But if you haue a stomacke, too't a Gods name,
You shal haue me assisting you in all.
But will you woo this Wilde-cat?
  Petr. Will I liue?
  Gru. Wil he woo her? I: or Ile hang her
   Petr. Why came I hither, but to that intent?
Thinke you, a little dinne can daunt mine eares?
Haue I not in my time heard Lions rore?
Haue I not heard the sea, puft vp with windes,
Rage like an angry Boare, chafed with sweat?
Haue I not heard great Ordnance in the field?
And heauens Artillerie thunder in the skies?
Haue I not in a pitched battell heard
Loud larums, neighing steeds, & trumpets clangue?
And do you tell me of a womans tongue?
That giues not halfe so great a blow to heare,
As wil a Chesse-nut in a Farmers fire.
Tush, tush, feare boyes with bugs
   Gru. For he feares none
   Grem. Hortensio hearke:
This Gentleman is happily arriu'd,
My minde presumes for his owne good, and yours
   Hor. I promist we would be Contributors,
And beare his charge of wooing whatsoere
   Gremio. And so we wil, prouided that he win her
   Gru. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.
Enter Tranio braue, and Biondello.
  Tra. Gentlemen God saue you. If I may be bold
Tell me I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?
  Bion. He that ha's the two faire daughters: ist he you
  Tra. Euen he Biondello
   Gre. Hearke you sir, you meane not her to-
  Tra. Perhaps him and her sir, what haue you to do?
  Petr. Not her that chides sir, at any hand I pray
   Tranio. I loue no chiders sir: Biondello, let's away
   Luc. Well begun Tranio
   Hor. Sir, a word ere you go:
Are you a sutor to the Maid you talke of, yea or no?
  Tra. And if I be sir, is it any offence?
  Gremio. No: if without more words you will get you
   Tra. Why sir, I pray are not the streets as free
For me, as for you?
  Gre. But so is not she
   Tra. For what reason I beseech you
   Gre. For this reason if you'l kno,
That she's the choise loue of Signior Gremio
   Hor. That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio
   Tra. Softly my Masters: If you be Gentlemen
Do me this right: heare me with patience.
Baptista is a noble Gentleman,
To whom my Father is not all vnknowne,
And were his daughter fairer then she is,
She may more sutors haue, and me for one.
Faire Laedaes daughter had a thousand wooers,
Then well one more may faire Bianca haue;
And so she shall: Lucentio shal make one,
Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone
   Gre. What, this Gentleman will out-talke vs all
   Luc. Sir giue him head, I know hee'l proue a Iade
   Petr. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?
  Hor. Sir, let me be so bold as aske you,
Did you yet euer see Baptistas daughter?
  Tra. No sir, but heare I do that he hath two:
The one, as famous for a scolding tongue,
As is the other, for beauteous modestie
   Petr. Sir, sir, the first's for me, let her go by
   Gre. Yea, leaue that labour to great Hercules,
And let it be more then Alcides twelue
   Petr. Sir vnderstand you this of me (insooth)
The yongest daughter whom you hearken for,
Her father keepes from all accesse of sutors,
And will not promise her to any man,
Vntill the elder sister first be wed.
The yonger then is free, and not before
   Tranio. If it be so sir, that you are the man
Must steed vs all, and me amongst the rest:
And if you breake the ice, and do this seeke,
Atchieue the elder: set the yonger free,
For our accesse, whose hap shall be to haue her,
Wil not so gracelesse be, to be ingrate
   Hor. Sir you say wel, and wel you do conceiue,
And since you do professe to be a sutor,
You must as we do, gratifie this Gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholding
   Tranio. Sir, I shal not be slacke, in signe whereof,
Please ye we may contriue this afternoone,
And quaffe carowses to our Mistresse health,
And do as aduersaries do in law,
Striue mightily, but eate and drinke as friends
   Gru. Bion. Oh excellent motion: fellowes let's be gon
   Hor. The motions good indeed, and be it so,
Petruchio, I shal be your Been venuto.
Enter Katherina and Bianca.
  Bian. Good sister wrong me not, nor wrong your self,
To make a bondmaide and a slaue of mee,
That I disdaine: but for these other goods,
Vnbinde my hands, Ile pull them off my selfe,
Yea all my raiment, to my petticoate,
Or what you will command me, wil I do,
So well I know my dutie to my elders
   Kate. Of all thy sutors heere I charge tel
Whom thou lou'st best: see thou dissemble not
   Bianca. Beleeue me sister, of all the men aliue,
I neuer yet beheld that speciall face,
Which I could fancie, more then any other
   Kate. Minion thou lyest: Is't not Hortensio?
  Bian. If you affect him sister, heere I sweare
Ile pleade for you my selfe, but you shal haue him
   Kate. Oh then belike you fancie riches more,
You wil haue Gremio to keepe you faire
   Bian. Is it for him you do enuie me so?
Nay then you iest, and now I wel perceiue
You haue but iested with me all this while:
I prethee sister Kate, vntie my hands
   Ka. If that be iest, then all the rest was so.
Enter Baptista.
  Bap. Why how now Dame, whence growes this insolence?
Bianca stand aside, poore gyrle she weepes:
Go ply thy Needle, meddle not with her.
For shame thou Hilding of a diuellish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her, that did nere wrong thee?
When did she crosse thee with a bitter word?
  Kate. Her silence flouts me, and Ile be reueng'd.
Flies after Bianca
  Bap. What in my sight? Bianca get thee in.
  Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see
She is your treasure, she must haue a husband,
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,
And for your loue to her, leade Apes in hell.
Talke not to me, I will go sit and weepe,
Till I can finde occasion of reuenge
   Bap. Was euer Gentleman thus greeu'd as I?
But who comes heere.
Enter Gremio, Lucentio, in the habit of a meane man, Petruchio
Tranio, with his boy bearing a Lute and Bookes.
  Gre. Good morrow neighbour Baptista
   Bap. Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God saue
you Gentlemen
   Pet. And you good sir: pray haue you not a daughter,
cal'd Katerina, faire and vertuous
   Bap. I haue a daughter sir, cal'd Katerina
   Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly
   Pet. You wrong me signior Gremio, giue me leaue.
I am a Gentleman of Verona sir,
That hearing of her beautie, and her wit,
Her affability and bashfull modestie:
Her wondrous qualities, and milde behauiour,
Am bold to shew my selfe a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witnesse
Of that report, which I so oft haue heard,
And for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine
Cunning in Musicke, and the Mathematickes,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof I know she is not ignorant,
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong.
His name is Litio, borne in Mantua
   Bap. Y'are welcome sir, and he for your good sake.
But for my daughter Katerine, this I know,
She is not for your turne, the more my greefe
   Pet. I see you do not meane to part with her,
Or else you like not of my companie
   Bap. Mistake me not, I speake but as I finde,
Whence are you sir? What may I call your name
   Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's sonne,
A man well knowne throughout all Italy
   Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake
   Gre. Sauing your tale Petruchio, I pray let vs that are
poore petitioners speake too? Bacare, you are meruaylous
   Pet. Oh, Pardon me signior Gremio, I would faine be
   Gre. I doubt it not sir. But you will curse
Your wooing neighbors: this is a guift
Very gratefull, I am sure of it, to expresse
The like kindnesse my selfe, that haue beene
More kindely beholding to you then any:
Freely giue vnto this yong Scholler, that hath
Beene long studying at Rhemes, as cunning
In Greeke, Latine, and other Languages,
As the other in Musicke and Mathematickes:
His name is Cambio: pray accept his seruice
   Bap. A thousand thankes signior Gremio:
Welcome good Cambio. But gentle sir,
Me thinkes you walke like a stranger,
May I be so bold, to know the cause of your comming?
  Tra. Pardon me sir, the boldnesse is mine owne,
That being a stranger in this Cittie heere,
Do make my selfe a sutor to your daughter,
Vnto Bianca, faire and vertuous:
Nor is your firme resolue vnknowne to me,
In the preferment of the eldest sister.
This liberty is all that I request,
That vpon knowledge of my Parentage,
I may haue welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free accesse and fauour as the rest.
And toward the education of your daughters:
I heere bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greeke and Latine bookes:
If you accept them, then their worth is great:
  Bap. Lucentio is your name, of whence I pray
   Tra. Of Pisa sir, sonne to Vincentio
   Bap. A mightie man of Pisa by report,
I know him well: you are verie welcome sir:
Take you the Lute, and you the set of bookes,
You shall go see your Pupils presently.
Holla, within.
Enter a Seruant
Sirrah, leade these Gentlemen
To my daughters, and tell them both
These are their Tutors, bid them vse them well,
We will go walke a little in the Orchard,
And then to dinner: you are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to thinke your selues
   Pet. Signior Baptista, my businesse asketh haste,
And euerie day I cannot come to woo,
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left solie heire to all his Lands and goods,
Which I haue bettered rather then decreast,
Then tell me, if I get your daughters loue,
What dowrie shall I haue with her to wife
   Bap. After my death, the one halfe of my Lands,
And in possession twentie thousand Crownes
   Pet. And for that dowrie, Ile assure her of
Her widdow-hood, be it that she suruiue me
In all my Lands and Leases whatsoeuer,
Let specialties be therefore drawne betweene vs,
That couenants may be kept on either hand
   Bap. I, when the speciall thing is well obtain'd,
That is her loue: for that is all in all
   Pet. Why that is nothing: for I tell you father,
I am as peremptorie as she proud minded:
And where two raging fires meete together,
They do consume the thing that feedes their furie.
Though little fire growes great with little winde,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and so she yeelds to me,
For I am rough, and woo not like a babe
   Bap. Well maist thou woo, and happy be thy speed:
But be thou arm'd for some vnhappie words
   Pet. I to the proofe, as Mountaines are for windes,
That shakes not, though they blow perpetually.
Enter Hortensio with his head broke.
  Bap. How now my friend, why dost thou looke so
  Hor. For feare I promise you, if I looke pale
   Bap. What, will my daughter proue a good Musitian?
  Hor. I thinke she'l sooner proue a souldier,
Iron may hold with her, but neuer Lutes
   Bap. Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute?
  Hor. Why no, for she hath broke the Lute to me:
I did but tell her she mistooke her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When (with a most impatient diuellish spirit)
Frets call you these? (quoth she) Ile fume with them:
And with that word she stroke me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way,
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute,
While she did call me Rascall, Fidler,
And twangling Iacke, with twentie such vilde tearmes,
As had she studied to misvse me so
   Pet. Now by the world, it is a lustie Wench,
I loue her ten times more then ere I did,
Oh how I long to haue some chat with her
   Bap. Wel go with me, and be not so discomfited.
Proceed in practise with my yonger daughter,
She's apt to learne, and thankefull for good turnes:
Signior Petruchio, will you go with vs,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you.
Exit. Manet Petruchio.
  Pet. I pray you do. Ile attend her heere,
And woo her with some spirit when she comes,
Say that she raile, why then Ile tell her plaine,
She sings as sweetly as a Nightinghale:
Say that she frowne, Ile say she lookes as cleere
As morning Roses newly washt with dew:
Say she be mute, and will not speake a word,
Then Ile commend her volubility,
And say she vttereth piercing eloquence:
If she do bid me packe, Ile giue her thankes,
As though she bid me stay by her a weeke:
If she denie to wed, Ile craue the day
When I shall aske the banes, and when be married.
But heere she comes, and now Petruchio speake.
Enter Katerina
Good morrow Kate, for thats your name I heare
   Kate. Well haue you heard, but something hard of
They call me Katerine, that do talke of me
   Pet. You lye infaith, for you are call'd plaine Kate,
And bony Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst:
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendome,
Kate of Kate-hall, my super-daintie Kate,
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore Kate
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation,
Hearing thy mildnesse prais'd in euery Towne,
Thy vertues spoke of, and thy beautie sounded,
Yet not so deepely as to thee belongs,
My selfe am moou'd to woo thee for my wife
   Kate. Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you
Remoue you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a mouable
   Pet. Why, what's a mouable?
  Kat. A ioyn'd stoole
   Pet. Thou hast hit it: come sit on me
   Kate. Asses are made to beare, and so are you
   Pet. Women are made to beare, and so are you
   Kate. No such Iade as you, if me you meane
   Pet. Alas good Kate, I will not burthen thee,
For knowing thee to be but yong and light
   Kate. Too light for such a swaine as you to catch,
And yet as heauie as my waight should be
   Pet. Shold be, should: buzze
   Kate. Well tane, and like a buzzard
   Pet. Oh slow-wing'd Turtle, shal a buzard take thee?
  Kat. I for a Turtle, as he takes a buzard
   Pet. Come, come you Waspe, y'faith you are too
   Kate. If I be waspish, best beware my sting
   Pet. My remedy is then to plucke it out
   Kate. I, if the foole could finde it where it lies
   Pet. Who knowes not where a Waspe does weare
his sting? In his taile
   Kate. In his tongue?
  Pet. Whose tongue
   Kate. Yours if you talke of tales, and so farewell
   Pet. What with my tongue in your taile.
Nay, come againe, good Kate, I am a Gentleman,
  Kate. That Ile trie.
She strikes him
  Pet. I sweare Ile cuffe you, if you strike againe
   Kate. So may you loose your armes,
If you strike me, you are no Gentleman,
And if no Gentleman, why then no armes
   Pet. A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy bookes
   Kate. What is your Crest, a Coxcombe?
  Pet. A comblesse Cocke, so Kate will be my Hen
   Kate. No Cocke of mine, you crow too like a crauen
  Pet. Nay come Kate, come: you must not looke so
   Kate. It is my fashion when I see a Crab
   Pet. Why heere's no crab, and therefore looke not
   Kate. There is, there is
   Pet. Then shew it me
   Kate. Had I a glasse, I would
   Pet. What, you meane my face
   Kate. Well aym'd of such a yong one
   Pet. Now by S[aint]. George I am too yong for you
   Kate. Yet you are wither'd
   Pet. 'Tis with cares
   Kate. I care not
   Pet. Nay heare you Kate. Insooth you scape not so
   Kate. I chafe you if I tarrie. Let me go
   Pet. No, not a whit, I finde you passing gentle:
'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen,
And now I finde report a very liar:
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
But slow in speech: yet sweet as spring-time flowers.
Thou canst not frowne, thou canst not looke a sconce,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
Nor hast thou pleasure to be crosse in talke:
But thou with mildnesse entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft, and affable.
Why does the world report that Kate doth limpe?
Oh sland'rous world: Kate like the hazle twig
Is straight, and slender, and as browne in hue
As hazle nuts, and sweeter then the kernels:
Oh let me see thee walke: thou dost not halt
   Kate. Go foole, and whom thou keep'st command
   Pet. Did euer Dian so become a Groue
As Kate this chamber with her princely gate:
O be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportfull
   Kate. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
  Petr. It is extempore, from my mother wit
   Kate. A witty mother, witlesse else her sonne
   Pet. Am I not wise?
  Kat. Yes, keepe you warme
   Pet. Marry so I meane sweet Katherine in thy bed:
And therefore setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plaine termes: your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife; your dowry greed on,
And will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now Kate, I am a husband for your turne,
For by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well,
Thou must be married to no man but me,
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Trayno.
For I am he am borne to tame you Kate,
And bring you from a wilde Kate to a Kate
Conformable as other houshold Kates:
Heere comes your father, neuer make deniall,
I must, and will haue Katherine to my wife
   Bap. Now Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
  Pet. How but well sir? how but well?
It were impossible I should speed amisse
   Bap. Why how now daughter Katherine, in your dumps?
  Kat. Call you me daughter? now I promise you
You haue shewd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one halfe Lunaticke,
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Iacke,
That thinkes with oathes to face the matter out
   Pet. Father, 'tis thus, your selfe and all the world
That talk'd of her, haue talk'd amisse of her:
If she be curst, it is for pollicie,
For shee's not froward, but modest as the Doue,
Shee is not hot, but temperate as the morne,
For patience shee will proue a second Grissell,
And Romane Lucrece for her chastitie:
And to conclude, we haue greed so well together,
That vpon sonday is the wedding day
   Kate. Ile see thee hang'd on sonday first
   Gre. Hark Petruchio, she saies shee'll see thee hang'd first
   Tra. Is this your speeding? nay the[n] godnight our part
   Pet. Be patient gentlemen, I choose her for my selfe,
If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd twixt vs twaine being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you 'tis incredible to beleeue
How much she loues me: oh the kindest Kate,
Shee hung about my necke, and kisse on kisse
Shee vi'd so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twinke she won me to her loue.
Oh you are nouices, 'tis a world to see
How tame when men and women are alone,
A meacocke wretch can make the curstest shrew:
Giue me thy hand Kate, I will vnto Venice
To buy apparell 'gainst the wedding day;
Prouide the feast father, and bid the guests,
I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine
   Bap. I know not what to say, but giue me your ha[n]ds,
God send you ioy, Petruchio, 'tis a match
   Gre. Tra. Amen say we, we will be witnesses
   Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen adieu,
I will to Venice, sonday comes apace,
We will haue rings, and things, and fine array,
And kisse me Kate, we will be married a sonday.
Exit Petruchio and Katherine.
  Gre. Was euer match clapt vp so sodainly?
  Bap. Faith Gentlemen now I play a marchants part,
And venture madly on a desperate Mart
   Tra. Twas a commodity lay fretting by you,
'Twill bring you gaine, or perish on the seas
   Bap. The gaine I seeke, is quiet me the match
   Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch:
But now Baptista, to your yonger daughter,
Now is the day we long haue looked for,
I am your neighbour, and was suter first
   Tra. And I am one that loue Bianca more
Then words can witnesse, or your thoughts can guesse
   Gre. Yongling thou canst not loue so deare as I
   Tra. Gray-beard thy loue doth freeze
   Gre. But thine doth frie,
Skipper stand backe, 'tis age that nourisheth
   Tra. But youth in Ladies eyes that florisheth
   Bap. Content you gentlemen, I wil co[m]pound this strife
'Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall haue my Biancas loue.
Say signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
  Gre. First, as you know, my house within the City
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Basons and ewers to laue her dainty hands:
My hangings all of tirian tapestry:
In Iuory cofers I haue stuft my crownes:
In Cypres chests my arras counterpoints,
Costly apparell, tents, and Canopies,
Fine Linnen, Turky cushions bost with pearle,
Vallens of Venice gold, in needle worke:
Pewter and brasse, and all things that belongs
To house or house-keeping: then at my farme
I haue a hundred milch-kine to the pale,
Sixe-score fat Oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
My selfe am strooke in yeeres I must confesse,
And if I die to morrow this is hers,
If whil'st I liue she will be onely mine
   Tra. That only came well in: sir, list to me,
I am my fathers heyre and onely sonne,
If I may haue your daughter to my wife,
Ile leaue her houses three or foure as good
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua,
Besides, two thousand Duckets by the yeere
Of fruitfull land, all which shall be her ioynter.
What, haue I pincht you Signior Gremio?
  Gre. Two thousand Duckets by the yeere of land,
My Land amounts not to so much in all:
That she shall haue, besides an Argosie
That now is lying in Marcellus roade:
What, haue I choakt you with an Argosie?
  Tra. Gremio, 'tis knowne my father hath no lesse
Then three great Argosies, besides two Galliasses
And twelue tite Gallies, these I will assure her,
And twice as much what ere thou offrest next
   Gre. Nay, I haue offred all, I haue no more,
And she can haue no more then all I haue,
If you like me, she shall haue me and mine
   Tra. Why then the maid is mine from all the world
By your firme promise, Gremio is out-vied
   Bap. I must confesse your offer is the best,
And let your father make her the assurance,
Shee is your owne, else you must pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower?
  Tra. That's but a cauill: he is olde, I young
   Gre. And may not yong men die as well as old?
  Bap. Well gentlemen, I am thus resolu'd,
On sonday next, you know
My daughter Katherine is to be married:
Now on the sonday following, shall Bianca
Be Bride to you, if you make this assurance:
If not, to Signior Gremio:
And so I take my leaue, and thanke you both.
  Gre. Adieu good neighbour: now I feare thee not:
Sirra, yong gamester, your father were a foole
To giue thee all, and in his wayning age
Set foot vnder thy table: tut, a toy,
An olde Italian foxe is not so kinde my boy.
  Tra. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide,
Yet I haue fac'd it with a card of ten:
'Tis in my head to doe my master good:
I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio,
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
Doe get their children: but in this case of woing,
A childe shall get a sire, if I faile not of my cunning.
Actus Tertia.
Enter Lucentio, Hortentio, and Bianca.
  Luc. Fidler forbeare, you grow too forward Sir,
Haue you so soone forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katherine welcom'd you withall
   Hort. But wrangling pedant, this is
The patronesse of heauenly harmony:
Then giue me leaue to haue prerogatiue,
And when in Musicke we haue spent an houre,
Your Lecture shall haue leisure for as much
   Luc. Preposterous Asse that neuer read so farre,
To know the cause why musicke was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the minde of man
After his studies, or his vsuall paine?
Then giue me leaue to read Philosophy,
And while I pause, serue in your harmony
   Hort. Sirra, I will not beare these braues of thine
   Bianc. Why gentlemen, you doe me double wrong,
To striue for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholler in the schooles,
Ile not be tied to howres, nor pointed times,
But learne my Lessons as I please my selfe,
And to cut off all strife: heere sit we downe,
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles,
His Lecture will be done ere you haue tun'd
   Hort. You'll leaue his Lecture when I am in tune?
  Luc. That will be neuer, tune your instrument
   Bian. Where left we last?
  Luc. Heere Madam: Hic Ibat Simois, hic est sigeria
tellus, hic steterat Priami regia Celsa senis
   Bian. Conster them
   Luc. Hic Ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio,
hic est, sonne vnto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeria tellus,
disguised thus to get your loue, hic steterat, and that
Lucentio that comes a wooing, priami, is my man Tranio,
regia, bearing my port, celsa senis that we might beguile
the old Pantalowne
   Hort. Madam, my Instrument's in tune
   Bian. Let's heare, oh fie, the treble iarres
   Luc. Spit in the hole man, and tune againe
   Bian. Now let mee see if I can conster it. Hic ibat simois,
I know you not, hic est sigeria tellus, I trust you not,
hic staterat priami, take heede he heare vs not, regia presume
not, Celsa senis, despaire not
   Hort. Madam, tis now in tune
   Luc. All but the base
   Hort. The base is right, 'tis the base knaue that iars
   Luc. How fiery and forward our Pedant is,
Now for my life the knaue doth court my loue,
Pedascule, Ile watch you better yet:
In time I may beleeue, yet I mistrust
   Bian. Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides
Was Aiax cald so from his grandfather
   Hort. I must beleeue my master, else I promise you,
I should be arguing still vpon that doubt,
But let it rest, now Litio to you:
Good master take it not vnkindly pray
That I haue beene thus pleasant with you both
   Hort. You may go walk, and giue me leaue a while,
My Lessons make no musicke in three parts
   Luc. Are you so formall sir, well I must waite
And watch withall, for but I be deceiu'd,
Our fine Musitian groweth amorous
   Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learne the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of Art,
To teach you gamoth in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectuall,
Then hath beene taught by any of my trade,
And there it is in writing fairely drawne
   Bian. Why, I am past my gamouth long agoe
   Hor. Yet read the gamouth of Hortentio
   Bian. Gamouth I am, the ground of all accord:
Are, to plead Hortensio's passion:
Beeme, Bianca take him for thy Lord
Cfavt, that loues with all affection:
D sol re, one Cliffe, two notes haue I,
Ela mi, show pitty or I die,
Call you this gamouth? tut I like it not,
Old fashions please me best, I am not so nice
To charge true rules for old inuentions.
Enter a Messenger.
  Nicke. Mistresse, your father prayes you leaue your books,
And helpe to dresse your sisters chamber vp,
You know to morrow is the wedding day
   Bian. Farewell sweet masters both, I must be gone
   Luc. Faith Mistresse then I haue no cause to stay
   Hor. But I haue cause to pry into this pedant,
Methinkes he lookes as though he were in loue:
Yet if thy thoughts Bianca be so humble
To cast thy wandring eyes on euery stale:
Seize thee that List, if once I finde thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and others,
  Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day
That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we heare not of our sonne in Law:
What will be said, what mockery will it be?
To want the Bride-groome when the Priest attends
To speake the ceremoniall rites of marriage?
What saies Lucentio to this shame of ours?
  Kate. No shame but mine, I must forsooth be forst
To giue my hand oppos'd against my heart
Vnto a mad-braine rudesby, full of spleene,
Who woo'd in haste, and meanes to wed at leysure:
I told you I, he was a franticke foole,
Hiding his bitter iests in blunt behauiour,
And to be noted for a merry man;
Hee'll wooe a thousand, point the day of marriage,
Make friends, inuite, and proclaime the banes,
Yet neuer meanes to wed where he hath woo'd:
Now must the world point at poore Katherine,
And say, loe, there is mad Petruchio's wife
If it would please him come and marry her
   Tra. Patience good Katherine and Baptista too,
Vpon my life Petruchio meanes but well,
What euer fortune stayes him from his word,
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise,
Though he be merry, yet withall he's honest
   Kate. Would Katherine had neuer seen him though.
Exit weeping.
  Bap. Goe girle, I cannot blame thee now to weepe,
For such an iniurie would vexe a very saint,
Much more a shrew of impatient humour.
Enter Biondello.
  Bion. Master, master, newes, and such newes as you
neuer heard of,
  Bap. Is it new and olde too? how may that be?
  Bion. Why, is it not newes to heard of Petruchio's comming?
  Bap. Is he come?
  Bion. Why no sir
   Bap. What then?
  Bion. He is comming
   Bap. When will he be heere?
  Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees you there
   Tra. But say, what to thine olde newes?
  Bion. Why Petruchio is comming, in a new hat and
an old ierkin, a paire of old breeches thrice turn'd; a
paire of bootes that haue beene candle-cases, one buckled,
another lac'd: an olde rusty sword tane out of the
Towne Armory, with a broken hilt, and chapelesse: with
two broken points: his horse hip'd with an olde mothy
saddle, and stirrops of no kindred: besides possest
with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled
with the Lampasse, infected with the fashions, full
of Windegalls, sped with Spauins, raied with the Yellowes,
past cure of the Fiues, starke spoyl'd with the
Staggers, begnawne with the Bots, Waid in the backe,
and shoulder-shotten, neere leg'd before, and with a
halfe-chekt Bitte, & a headstall of sheepes leather, which
being restrain'd to keepe him from stumbling, hath been
often burst, and now repaired with knots: one girth sixe
times peec'd, and a womans Crupper of velure, which
hath two letters for her name, fairely set down in studs,
and heere and there peec'd with packthred
   Bap. Who comes with him?
  Bion. Oh sir, his Lackey, for all the world Caparison'd
like the horse: with a linnen stock on one leg, and
a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartred with a red and
blew list; an old hat, & the humor of forty fancies prickt
in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparell,
& not like a Christian foot-boy, or a gentlemans Lacky
   Tra. 'Tis some od humor pricks him to this fashion,
Yet oftentimes he goes but meane apparel'd
   Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoere he comes
   Bion. Why sir, he comes not
   Bap. Didst thou not say hee comes?
  Bion. Who, that Petruchio came?
  Bap. I, that Petruchio came
   Bion. No sir, I say his horse comes with him on his backe
   Bap. Why that's all one
   Bion. Nay by S[aint]. Iamy, I hold you a penny, a horse and
a man is more then one, and yet not many.
Enter Petruchio and Grumio.
  Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?
  Bap. You are welcome sir
   Petr. And yet I come not well
   Bap. And yet you halt not
   Tra. Not so well apparell'd as I wish you were
   Petr. Were it better I should rush in thus:
But where is Kate? where is my louely Bride?
How does my father? gentles methinkes you frowne,
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some Commet, or vnusuall prodigie?
  Bap. Why sir, you know this is your wedding day:
First were we sad, fearing you would not come,
Now sadder that you come so vnprouided:
Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemne festiuall
   Tra. And tell vs what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so vnlike your selfe?
  Petr. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to heare,
Sufficeth I am come to keepe my word,
Though in some part inforced to digresse,
Which at more leysure I will so excuse,
As you shall well be satisfied with all.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her,
The morning weares, 'tis time we were at Church
   Tra. See not your Bride in these vnreuerent robes,
Goe to my chamber, put on clothes of mine
   Pet. Not I, beleeue me, thus Ile visit her
   Bap. But thus I trust you will not marry her
   Pet. Good sooth euen thus: therefore ha done with words,
To me she's married, not vnto my cloathes:
Could I repaire what she will weare in me,
As I can change these poore accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for my selfe.
But what a foole am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good morrow to my Bride?
And seale the title with a louely kisse.
  Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire,
We will perswade him be it possible,
To put on better ere he goe to Church
   Bap. Ile after him, and see the euent of this.
  Tra. But sir, Loue concerneth vs to adde
Her fathers liking, which to bring to passe
As before imparted to your worship,
I am to get a man what ere he be,
It skills not much, weele fit him to our turne,
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,
And make assurance heere in Padua
Of greater summes then I haue promised,
So shall you quietly enioy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent
   Luc. Were it not that my fellow schoolemaster
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly:
'Twere good me-thinkes to steale our marriage,
Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,
Ile keepe mine owne despite of all the world
   Tra. That by degrees we meane to looke into,
And watch our vantage in this businesse,
Wee'll ouer-reach the grey-beard Gremio,
The narrow prying father Minola,
The quaint Musician, amorous Litio,
All for my Masters sake Lucentio.
Enter Gremio.
Signior Gremio, came you from the Church?
  Gre. As willingly as ere I came from schoole
   Tra. And is the Bride & Bridegroom coming home?
  Gre. A bridegroome say you? 'tis a groome indeed,
A grumlling groome, and that the girle shall finde
   Tra. Curster then she, why 'tis impossible
   Gre. Why hee's a deuill, a deuill, a very fiend
   Tra. Why she's a deuill, a deuill, the deuils damme
   Gre. Tut, she's a Lambe, a Doue, a foole to him:
Ile tell you sir Lucentio; when the Priest
Should aske if Katherine should be his wife,
I, by goggs woones quoth he, and swore so loud,
That all amaz'd the Priest let fall the booke,
And as he stoop'd againe to take it vp,
This mad-brain'd bridegroome tooke him such a cuffe,
That downe fell Priest and booke, and booke and Priest,
Now take them vp quoth he, if any list
   Tra. What said the wench when he rose againe?
  Gre. Trembled and shooke: for why, he stamp'd and
swore, as if the Vicar meant to cozen him: but after many
ceremonies done, hee calls for wine, a health quoth
he, as if he had beene aboord carowsing to his Mates after
a storme, quaft off the Muscadell, and threw the sops
all in the Sextons face: hauing no other reason, but that
his beard grew thinne and hungerly, and seem'd to aske
him sops as hee was drinking: This done, hee tooke the
Bride about the necke, and kist her lips with such a clamorous
smacke, that at the parting all the Church did
eccho: and I seeing this, came thence for very shame, and
after mee I know the rout is comming, such a mad marryage
neuer was before: harke, harke, I heare the minstrels
Musicke playes.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio, Baptista.
  Petr. Gentlemen & friends, I thank you for your pains,
I know you thinke to dine with me to day,
And haue prepar'd great store of wedding cheere,
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore heere I meane to take my leaue
   Bap. Is't possible you will away to night?
  Pet. I must away to day before night come,
Make it no wonder: if you knew my businesse,
You would intreat me rather goe then stay:
And honest company, I thanke you all,
That haue beheld me giue away my selfe
To this most patient, sweet, and vertuous wife,
Dine with my father, drinke a health to me,
For I must hence, and farewell to you all
   Tra. Let vs intreat you stay till after dinner
   Pet. It may not be
   Gra. Let me intreat you
   Pet. It cannot be
   Kat. Let me intreat you
   Pet. I am content
   Kat. Are you content to stay?
  Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay,
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can
   Kat. Now if you loue me stay
   Pet. Grumio, my horse
   Gru. I sir, they be ready, the Oates haue eaten the
   Kate. Nay then,
Doe what thou canst, I will not goe to day,
No, nor to morrow, not till I please my selfe,
The dore is open sir, there lies your way,
You may be iogging whiles your bootes are greene:
For me, Ile not be gone till I please my selfe,
'Tis like you'll proue a iolly surly groome,
That take it on you at the first so roundly
   Pet. O Kate content thee, prethee be not angry
   Kat. I will be angry, what hast thou to doe?
Father, be quiet, he shall stay my leisure
   Gre. I marry sir, now it begins to worke
   Kat. Gentlemen, forward to the bridall dinner,
I see a woman may be made a foole
If she had not a spirit to resist
   Pet. They shall goe forward Kate at thy command,
Obey the Bride you that attend on her.
Goe to the feast, reuell and domineere,
Carowse full measure to her maiden-head,
Be madde and merry, or goe hang your selues:
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me:
Nay, looke not big, nor stampe, not stare, nor fret,
I will be master of what is mine owne,
Shee is my goods, my chattels, she is my house,
My houshold-stuffe, my field, my barne,
My horse, my oxe, my asse, my any thing,
And heere she stands, touch her who euer dare,
Ile bring mine action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua: Grumio
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with theeues,
Rescue thy Mistresse if thou be a man:
Feare not sweet wench, they shall not touch thee Kate,
Ile buckler thee against a Million.
Exeunt. P. Ka.
  Bap. Nay, let them goe, a couple of quiet ones
   Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing
   Tra. Of all mad matches neuer was the like
   Luc. Mistresse, what's your opinion of your sister?
  Bian. That being mad her selfe, she's madly mated
   Gre. I warrant him Petruchio is Kated
   Bap. Neighbours and friends, though Bride & Bridegroom wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know there wants no iunkets at the feast:
Lucentio, you shall supply the Bridegroomes place,
And let Bianca take her sisters roome
   Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?
  Bap. She shall Lucentio: come gentlemen lets goe.
Enter Grumio.
  Gru. Fie, fie on all tired Iades, on all mad Masters, &
all foule waies: was euer man so beaten? was euer man
so raide? was euer man so weary? I am sent before to
make a fire, and they are comming after to warme them:
now were not I a little pot, & soone hot; my very lippes
might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roofe of my
mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire
to thaw me, but I with blowing the fire shall warme my
selfe: for considering the weather, a taller man then I
will take cold: Holla, hoa Curtis.
Enter Curtis.
  Curt. Who is that calls so coldly?
  Gru. A piece of Ice: if thou doubt it, thou maist
slide from my shoulder to my heele, with no
greater a run but my head and my necke. A fire good
   Cur. Is my master and his wife comming Grumio?
  Gru. Oh I Curtis I, and therefore fire, fire, cast on no
   Cur. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported
   Gru. She was good Curtis before this frost: but thou
know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast: for it
hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistris, and my
selfe fellow Curtis
   Gru. Away you three inch foole, I am no beast
   Gru. Am I but three inches? Why thy horne is a foot
and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire,
or shall I complaine on thee to our mistris, whose hand
(she being now at hand) thou shalt soone feele, to thy
cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office
   Cur. I prethee good Grumio, tell me, how goes the
  Gru. A cold world Curtis in euery office but thine, &
therefore fire: do thy duty, and haue thy dutie, for my
Master and mistris are almost frozen to death
   Cur. There's fire readie, and therefore good Grumio
   Gru. Why Iacke boy, ho boy, and as much newes as
   Cur. Come, you are so full of conicatching
   Gru. Why therefore fire, for I haue caught extreme
cold. Where's the Cooke, is supper ready, the house
trim'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs swept, the seruingmen
in their new fustian, the white stockings, and euery officer
his wedding garment on? Be the Iackes faire within,
the Gils faire without, the Carpets laide, and euerie
thing in order?
  Cur. All readie: and therefore I pray thee newes
   Gru. First know my horse is tired, my master & mistris
   Cur. How?
  Gru. Out of their saddles into the durt, and thereby
hangs a tale
   Cur. Let's ha't good Grumio
   Gru. Lend thine eare
   Cur. Heere
   Gru. There
   Cur. This 'tis to feele a tale, not to heare a tale
   Gru. And therefore 'tis cal'd a sensible tale: and this
Cuffe was but to knocke at your eare, and beseech listning:
now I begin, Inprimis wee came downe a fowle
hill, my Master riding behinde my Mistris
   Cur. Both of one horse?
  Gru. What's that to thee?
  Cur. Why a horse
   Gru. Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crost me,
thou shouldst haue heard how her horse fel, and she vnder
her horse: thou shouldst haue heard in how miery a
place, how she was bemoil'd, how hee left her with the
horse vpon her, how he beat me because her horse stumbled,
how she waded through the durt to plucke him off
me: how he swore, how she prai'd, that neuer prai'd before:
how I cried, how the horses ranne away, how her
bridle was burst: how I lost my crupper, with manie
things of worthy memorie, which now shall die in obliuion,
and thou returne vnexperienc'd to thy graue
   Cur. By this reckning he is more shrew than she
   Gru. I, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall
finde when he comes home. But what talke I of this?
Call forth Nathaniel, Ioseph, Nicholas, Phillip, Walter, Sugersop
and the rest: let their heads bee slickely comb'd,
their blew coats brush'd, and their garters of an indifferent
knit, let them curtsie with their left legges, and not
presume to touch a haire of my Masters horse-taile, till
they kisse their hands. Are they all readie?
  Cur. They are
   Gru. Call them forth
   Cur. Do you heare ho? you must meete my maister
to countenance my mistris
   Gru. Why she hath a face of her owne
   Cur. Who knowes not that?
  Gru. Thou it seemes, that cals for company to countenance
   Cur. I call them forth to credit her.
Enter foure or fiue seruingmen.
  Gru. Why she comes to borrow nothing of them
   Nat. Welcome home Grumio
   Phil. How now Grumio
   Ios. What Grumio
   Nick. Fellow Grumio
   Nat. How now old lad
   Gru. Welcome you: how now you: what you: fellow
you: and thus much for greeting. Now my spruce
companions, is all readie, and all things neate?
  Nat. All things is readie, how neere is our master?
  Gre. E'ne at hand, alighted by this: and therefore be
not- Cockes passion, silence, I heare my master.
Enter Petruchio and Kate.
  Pet. Where be these knaues? What no man at doore
To hold my stirrop, nor to take my horse?
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Phillip
   All ser. Heere, heere sir, heere sir
   Pet. Heere sir, heere sir, heere sir, heere sir.
You logger-headed and vnpollisht groomes:
What? no attendance? no regard? no dutie?
Where is the foolish knaue I sent before?
  Gru. Heere sir, as foolish as I was before
   Pet. You pezant, swain, you horson malt-horse drudg
Did I not bid thee meete me in the Parke,
And bring along these rascal knaues with thee?
  Grumio. Nathaniels coate sir was not fully made,
And Gabrels pumpes were all vnpinkt i'th heele:
There was no Linke to colour Peters hat,
And Walters dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Rafe, and Gregory,
The rest were ragged, old, and beggerly,
Yet as they are, heere are they come to meete you
   Pet. Go rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.
Where is the life that late I led?
Where are those? Sit downe Kate,
And welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud.
Enter seruants with supper.
Why when I say? Nay good sweete Kate be merrie.
Off with my boots, you rogues: you villaines, when?
It was the Friar of Orders gray,
As he forth walked on his way.
Out you rogue, you plucke my foote awrie,
Take that, and mend the plucking of the other.
Be merrie Kate: Some water heere: what hoa.
Enter one with water.
Where's my Spaniel Troilus? Sirra, get you hence,
And bid my cozen Ferdinand come hither:
One Kate that you must kisse, and be acquainted with.
Where are my Slippers? Shall I haue some water?
Come Kate and wash, & welcome heartily:
You horson villaine, will you let it fall?
  Kate. Patience I pray you, 'twas a fault vnwilling
   Pet. A horson beetle-headed flap-ear'd knaue:
Come Kate sit downe, I know you haue a stomacke,
Will you giue thankes, sweete Kate, or else shall I?
What's this, Mutton?
   Pet. Who brought it?
   Pet. 'Tis burnt, and so is all the meate:
What dogges are these? Where is the rascall Cooke?
How durst you villaines bring it from the dresser
And serue it thus to me that loue it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:
You heedlesse iolt-heads, and vnmanner'd slaues.
What, do you grumble? Ile be with you straight
   Kate. I pray you husband be not so disquiet,
The meate was well, if you were so contented
   Pet. I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away,
And I expressely am forbid to touch it:
For it engenders choller, planteth anger,
And better 'twere that both of vs did fast,
Since of our selues, our selues are chollericke,
Then feede it with such ouer-rosted flesh:
Be patient, to morrow't shalbe mended,
And for this night we'l fast for companie.
Come I wil bring thee to thy Bridall chamber.
Enter Seruants seuerally.
  Nath. Peter didst euer see the like
   Peter. He kils her in her owne humor
   Grumio. Where is he?
Enter Curtis a Seruant.
  Cur. In her chamber, making a sermon of continencie
to her, and railes, and sweares, and rates, that shee
(poore soule) knowes not which way to stand, to looke,
to speake, and sits as one new risen from a dreame. Away,
away, for he is comming hither.
Enter Petruchio.
  Pet. Thus haue I politickely begun my reigne,
And 'tis my hope to end successefully:
My Faulcon now is sharpe, and passing emptie,
And til she stoope, she must not be full gorg'd,
For then she neuer lookes vpon her lure.
Another way I haue to man my Haggard,
To make her come, and know her Keepers call:
That is, to watch her, as we watch these Kites,
That baite, and beate, and will not be obedient:
She eate no meate to day, nor none shall eate.
Last night she slept not, nor to night she shall not:
As with the meate, some vndeserued fault
Ile finde about the making of the bed,
And heere Ile fling the pillow, there the boulster,
This way the Couerlet, another way the sheets:
I, and amid this hurlie I intend,
That all is done in reuerend care of her,
And in conclusion, she shal watch all night,
And if she chance to nod, Ile raile and brawle,
And with the clamor keepe her stil awake:
This is a way to kil a Wife with kindnesse,
And thus Ile curbe her mad and headstrong humor:
He that knowes better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speake, 'tis charity to shew.
Enter Tranio and Hortensio.
  Tra. Is't possible friend Lisio, that mistris Bianca
Doth fancie any other but Lucentio,
I tel you sir, she beares me faire in hand
   Luc. Sir, to satisfie you in what I haue said,
Stand by, and marke the manner of his teaching.
Enter Bianca.
  Hor. Now Mistris, profit you in what you reade?
  Bian. What Master reade you first, resolue me that?
  Hor. I reade, that I professe the Art to loue
   Bian. And may you proue sir Master of your Art
   Luc. While you sweet deere proue Mistresse of my
   Hor. Quicke proceeders marry, now tel me I pray,
you that durst sweare that your Mistris Bianca
Lou'd me in the World so wel as Lucentio
   Tra. Oh despightful Loue, vnconstant womankind,
I tel thee Lisio this is wonderfull
   Hor. Mistake no more, I am not Lisio,
Nor a Musitian as I seeme to bee,
But one that scorne to liue in this disguise,
For such a one as leaues a Gentleman,
And makes a God of such a Cullion;
Know sir, that I am cal'd Hortensio
   Tra. Signior Hortensio, I haue often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca,
And since mine eyes are witnesse of her lightnesse,
I wil with you, if you be so contented,
Forsweare Bianca, and her loue for euer
   Hor. See how they kisse and court: Signior Lucentio,
Heere is my hand, and heere I firmly vow
Neuer to woo her more, but do forsweare her
As one vnworthie all the former fauours
That I haue fondly flatter'd them withall
   Tra. And heere I take the like vnfained oath,
Neuer to marrie with her, though she would intreate,
Fie on her, see how beastly she doth court him
   Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn
For me, that I may surely keepe mine oath.
I wil be married to a wealthy Widdow,
Ere three dayes passe, which hath as long lou'd me,
As I haue lou'd this proud disdainful Haggard,
And so farewel signior Lucentio,
Kindnesse in women, not their beauteous lookes
Shal win my loue, and so I take my leaue,
In resolution, as I swore before
   Tra. Mistris Bianca, blesse you with such grace,
As longeth to a Louers blessed case:
Nay, I haue tane you napping gentle Loue,
And haue forsworne you with Hortensio
   Bian. Tranio you iest, but haue you both forsworne
  Tra. Mistris we haue
   Luc. Then we are rid of Lisio
   Tra. I'faith hee'l haue a lustie Widdow now,
That shalbe woo'd, and wedded in a day
   Bian. God giue him ioy
   Tra. I, and hee'l tame her
   Bianca. He sayes so Tranio
   Tra. Faith he is gone vnto the taming schoole
   Bian. The taming schoole: what is there such a place?
  Tra. I mistris, and Petruchio is the master,
That teacheth trickes eleuen and twentie long,
To tame a shrew, and charme her chattering tongue.
Enter Biondello.
  Bion. Oh Master, master I haue watcht so long,
That I am dogge-wearie, but at last I spied
An ancient Angel comming downe the hill,
Wil serue the turne
   Tra. What is he Biondello?
  Bio. Master, a Marcantant, or a pedant,
I know not what, but formall in apparrell,
In gate and countenance surely like a Father
   Luc. And what of him Tranio?
  Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
Ile make him glad to seeme Vincentio,
And giue assurance to Baptista Minola.
As if he were the right Vincentio
   Par. Take me your loue, and then let me alone.
Enter a Pedant.
  Ped. God saue you sir
   Tra. And you sir, you are welcome,
Trauaile you farre on, or are you at the farthest?
  Ped. Sir at the farthest for a weeke or two,
But then vp farther, and as farre as Rome,
And so to Tripolie, if God lend me life
   Tra. What Countreyman I pray?
  Ped. Of Mantua
   Tra. Of Mantua Sir, marrie God forbid,
And come to Padua carelesse of your life
   Ped. My life sir? how I pray? for that goes hard
   Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua, know you not the cause?
Your ships are staid at Venice, and the Duke
For priuate quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis meruaile, but that you are but newly come,
You might haue heard it else proclaim'd about
   Ped. Alas sir, it is worse for me then so,
For I haue bils for monie by exchange
From Florence, and must heere deliuer them
   Tra. Wel sir, to do you courtesie,
This wil I do, and this I wil aduise you.
First tell me, haue you euer beene at Pisa?
  Ped. I sir, in Pisa haue I often bin,
Pisa renowned for graue Citizens
   Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio?
  Ped. I know him not, but I haue heard of him:
A Merchant of incomparable wealth
   Tra. He is my father sir, and sooth to say,
In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you
   Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, & all one
   Tra. To saue your life in this extremitie,
This fauor wil I do you for his sake,
And thinke it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
His name and credite shal you vndertake,
And in my house you shal be friendly lodg'd,
Looke that you take vpon you as you should,
You vnderstand me sir: so shal you stay
Til you haue done your businesse in the Citie:
If this be court'sie sir, accept of it
   Ped. Oh sir I do, and wil repute you euer
The patron of my life and libertie
   Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good,
This by the way I let you vnderstand,
My father is heere look'd for euerie day,
To passe assurance of a dowre in marriage
'Twixt me, and one Baptistas daughter heere:
In all these circumstances Ile instruct you,
Go with me to cloath you as becomes you.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Katherina and Grumio.
  Gru. No, no forsooth I dare not for my life
   Ka. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.
What, did he marrie me to famish me?
Beggers that come vnto my fathers doore,
Vpon intreatie haue a present almes,
If not, elsewhere they meete with charitie:
But I, who neuer knew how to intreat,
Nor neuer needed that I should intreate,
Am staru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of sleepe:
With oathes kept waking, and with brawling fed,
And that which spights me more then all these wants,
He does it vnder name of perfect loue:
As who should say, if I should sleepe or eate
'Twere deadly sicknesse, or else present death.
I prethee go, and get me some repast,
I care not what, so it be holsome foode
   Gru. What say you to a Neats foote?
  Kate. 'Tis passing good, I prethee let me haue it
   Gru. I feare it is too chollericke a meate.
How say you to a fat Tripe finely broyl'd?
  Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me
   Gru. I cannot tell, I feare 'tis chollericke.
What say you to a peece of Beefe and Mustard?
  Kate. A dish that I do loue to feede vpon
   Gru. I, but the Mustard is too hot a little
   Kate. Why then the Beefe, and let the Mustard rest
   Gru. Nay then I wil not, you shal haue the Mustard
Or else you get no beefe of Grumio
   Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt
   Gru. Why then the Mustard without the beefe
   Kate. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slaue,
That feed'st me with the verie name of meate.
Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you
That triumph thus vpon my misery:
Go get thee gone, I say.
Enter Petruchio, and Hortensio with meate
   Petr. How fares my Kate, what sweeting all amort?
  Hor. Mistris, what cheere?
  Kate. Faith as cold as can be
   Pet. Plucke vp thy spirits, looke cheerfully vpon me.
Heere Loue, thou seest how diligent I am,
To dresse thy meate my selfe, and bring it thee.
I am sure sweet Kate, this kindnesse merites thankes.
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lou'st it not:
And all my paines is sorted to no proofe.
Heere take away this dish
   Kate. I pray you let it stand
   Pet. The poorest seruice is repaide with thankes,
And so shall mine before you touch the meate
   Kate. I thanke you sir
   Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie you are too blame:
Come Mistris Kate, Ile beare you companie
   Petr. Eate it vp all Hortensio, if thou louest mee:
Much good do it vnto thy gentle heart:
Kate eate apace; and now my honie Loue,
Will we returne vnto thy Fathers house,
And reuell it as brauely as the best,
With silken coats and caps, and golden Rings,
With Ruffes and Cuffes, and Fardingales, and things:
With Scarfes, and Fannes, & double change of brau'ry,
With Amber Bracelets, Beades, and all this knau'ry.
What hast thou din'd? The Tailor staies thy leasure,
To decke thy bodie with his ruffling treasure.
Enter Tailor.
Come Tailor, let vs see these ornaments.
Enter Haberdasher.
Lay forth the gowne. What newes with you sir?
  Fel. Heere is the cap your Worship did bespeake
   Pet. Why this was moulded on a porrenger,
A Veluet dish: Fie, fie, 'tis lewd and filthy,
Why 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
A knacke, a toy, a tricke, a babies cap:
Away with it, come let me haue a bigger
   Kate. Ile haue no bigger, this doth fit the time,
And Gentlewomen weare such caps as these
   Pet. When you are gentle, you shall haue one too,
And not till then
   Hor. That will not be in hast
   Kate. Why sir I trust I may haue leaue to speake,
And speake I will. I am no childe, no babe,
Your betters haue indur'd me say my minde,
And if you cannot, best you stop your eares.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or els my heart concealing it wil breake,
And rather then it shall, I will be free,
Euen to the vttermost as I please in words
   Pet. Why thou saist true, it is paltrie cap,
A custard coffen, a bauble, a silken pie,
I loue thee well in that thou lik'st it not
   Kate. Loue me, or loue me not, I like the cap,
And it I will haue, or I will haue none
   Pet. Thy gowne, why I: come Tailor let vs see't.
Oh mercie God, what masking stuffe is heere?
Whats this? a sleeue? 'tis like demi cannon,
What, vp and downe caru'd like an apple Tart?
Heers snip, and nip, and cut, and slish and slash,
Like to a Censor in a barbers shoppe:
Why what a deuils name Tailor cal'st thou this?
  Hor. I see shees like to haue neither cap nor gowne
   Tai. You bid me make it orderlie and well,
According to the fashion, and the time
   Pet. Marrie and did: but if you be remembred,
I did not bid you marre it to the time.
Go hop me ouer euery kennell home,
For you shall hop without my custome sir:
Ile none of it; hence, make your best of it
   Kate. I neuer saw a better fashion'd gowne,
More queint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
Belike you meane to make a puppet of me
   Pet. Why true, he meanes to make a puppet of thee
   Tail. She saies your Worship meanes to make a
puppet of her
   Pet. Oh monstrous arrogance:
Thou lyest, thou thred, thou thimble,
Thou yard three quarters, halfe yard, quarter, naile,
Thou Flea, thou Nit, thou winter cricket thou:
Brau'd in mine owne house with a skeine of thred:
Away thou Ragge, thou quantitie, thou remnant,
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt thinke on prating whil'st thou liu'st:
I tell thee I, that thou hast marr'd her gowne
   Tail. Your worship is deceiu'd, the gowne is made
Iust as my master had direction:
Grumio gaue order how it should be done
   Gru. I gaue him no order, I gaue him the stuffe
   Tail. But how did you desire it should be made?
  Gru. Marrie sir with needle and thred
   Tail. But did you not request to haue it cut?
  Gru. Thou hast fac'd many things
   Tail. I haue
   Gru. Face not mee: thou hast brau'd manie men,
braue not me; I will neither bee fac'd nor brau'd. I say
vnto thee, I bid thy Master cut out the gowne, but I did
not bid him cut it to peeces. Ergo thou liest
   Tail. Why heere is the note of the fashion to testify
   Pet. Reade it
   Gru. The note lies in's throate if he say I said so
   Tail. Inprimis, a loose bodied gowne
   Gru. Master, if euer I said loose-bodied gowne, sow
me in the skirts of it, and beate me to death with a bottome
of browne thred: I said a gowne
   Pet. Proceede
   Tai. With a small compast cape
   Gru. I confesse the cape
   Tai. With a trunke sleeue
   Gru. I confesse two sleeues
   Tai. The sleeues curiously cut
   Pet. I there's the villanie
   Gru. Error i'th bill sir, error i'th bill? I commanded
the sleeues should be cut out, and sow'd vp againe, and
that Ile proue vpon thee, though thy little finger be armed
in a thimble
   Tail. This is true that I say, and I had thee in place
where thou shouldst know it
   Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, giue
me thy meat-yard, and spare not me
   Hor. God-a-mercie Grumio, then hee shall haue no
   Pet. Well sir in breefe the gowne is not for me
   Gru. You are i'th right sir, 'tis for my mistris
   Pet. Go take it vp vnto thy masters vse
   Gru. Villaine, not for thy life: Take vp my Mistresse
gowne for thy masters vse
   Pet. Why sir, what's your conceit in that?
  Gru. Oh sir, the conceit is deeper then you think for:
Take vp my Mistris gowne to his masters vse.
Oh fie, fie, fie
   Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the Tailor paide:
Go take it hence, be gone, and say no more
   Hor. Tailor, Ile pay thee for thy gowne to morrow,
Take no vnkindnesse of his hastie words:
Away I say, commend me to thy master.
  Pet. Well, come my Kate, we will vnto your fathers,
Euen in these honest meane habiliments:
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poore:
For 'tis the minde that makes the bodie rich.
And as the Sunne breakes through the darkest clouds,
So honor peereth in the meanest habit.
What is the Iay more precious then the Larke?
Because his feathers are more beautifull.
Or is the Adder better then the Eele,
Because his painted skin contents the eye.
Oh no good Kate: neither art thou the worse
For this poore furniture, and meane array.
If thou accountedst it shame, lay it on me,
And therefore frolicke, we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport vs at thy fathers house,
Go call my men, and let vs straight to him,
And bring our horses vnto Long-lane end,
There wil we mount, and thither walke on foote,
Let's see, I thinke 'tis now some seuen a clocke,
And well we may come there by dinner time
   Kate. I dare assure you sir, 'tis almost two,
And 'twill be supper time ere you come there
   Pet. It shall be seuen ere I go to horse:
Looke what I speake, or do, or thinke to doe,
You are still crossing it, sirs let't alone,
I will not goe to day, and ere I doe,
It shall be what a clock I say it is
   Hor. Why so this gallant will command the sunne.
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drest like Vincentio.
  Tra. Sirs, this is the house, please it you that I call
   Ped. I what else, and but I be deceiued,
Signior Baptista may remember me
Neere twentie yeares a goe in Genoa
   Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus,
Tis well, and hold your owne in any case
With such austeritie as longeth to a father.
Enter Biondello.
  Ped. I warrant you: but sir here comes your boy,
'Twere good he were school'd
   Tra. Feare you not him: sirra Biondello,
Now doe your dutie throughlie I aduise you:
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio
   Bion. Tut, feare not me
   Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista
   Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice,
And that you look't for him this day in Padua,
  Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drinke,
Here comes Baptista: set your countenance sir.
Enter Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted and bare headed.
  Tra. Signior Baptista you are happilie met:
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of,
I pray you stand good father to me now,
Giue me Bianca for my patrimony
   Ped. Soft son: sir by your leaue, hauing com to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a waighty cause
Of loue betweene your daughter and himselfe:
And for the good report I heare of you,
And for the loue he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him: to stay him not too long,
I am content in a good fathers care
To haue him matcht, and if you please to like
No worse then I, vpon some agreement
Me shall you finde readie and willing
With one consent to haue her so bestowed:
For curious I cannot be with you
Signior Baptista, of whom I heare so well
   Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I haue to say,
Your plainnesse and your shortnesse please me well:
Right true it is your sonne Lucentio here
Doth loue my daughter, and she loueth him,
Or both dissemble deepely their affections:
And therefore if you say no more then this,
That like a Father you will deale with him,
And passe my daughter a sufficient dower,
The match is made, and all is done,
Your sonne shall haue my daughter with consent
   Tra. I thanke you sir, where then doe you know best
We be affied and such assurance tane,
As shall with either parts agreement stand
   Bap. Not in my house Lucentio, for you know
Pitchers haue eares, and I haue manie seruants,
Besides old Gremio is harkning still,
And happilie we might be interrupted
   Tra. Then at my lodging, and it like you,
There doth my father lie: and there this night
Weele passe the businesse priuately and well:
Send for your daughter by your seruant here,
My Boy shall fetch the Scriuener presentlie,
The worst is this that at so slender warning,
You are like to haue a thin and slender pittance
   Bap. It likes me well:
Cambio hie you home, and bid Bianca make her readie
And if you will tell what hath hapned,
Lucentios Father is arriued in Padua,
And how she's like to be Lucentios wife
   Biond. I praie the gods she may withall my heart.
  Tran. Dallie not with the gods, but get thee gone.
Enter Peter.
Signior Baptista, shall I leade the way,
Welcome, one messe is like to be your cheere,
Come sir, we will better it in Pisa
   Bap. I follow you.
Enter Lucentio and Biondello.
  Bion. Cambio
   Luc. What saist thou Biondello
   Biond. You saw my Master winke and laugh vpon
  Luc. Biondello, what of that?
  Biond. Faith nothing: but has left mee here behinde
to expound the meaning or morrall of his signes and tokens
   Luc. I pray thee moralize them
   Biond. Then thus: Baptista is safe talking with the
deceiuing Father of a deceitfull sonne
   Luc. And what of him?
  Biond. His daughter is to be brought by you to the
   Luc. And then
   Bio. The old Priest at Saint Lukes Church is at your
command at all houres
   Luc. And what of all this
   Bion. I cannot tell, expect they are busied about a
counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, Cum
preuilegio ad Impremendum solem, to th' Church take the
Priest, Clarke, and some sufficient honest witnesses:
If this be not that you looke for, I haue no more to say,
But bid Bianca farewell for euer and a day
   Luc. Hear'st thou Biondello
   Biond. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench maried in an
afternoone as shee went to the Garden for Parseley to
stuffe a Rabit, and so may you sir: and so adew sir, my
Master hath appointed me to goe to Saint Lukes to bid
the Priest be readie to come against you come with your
  Luc. I may and will, if she be so contented:
She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt:
Hap what hap may, Ile roundly goe about her:
It shall goe hard if Cambio goe without her.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio
  Petr. Come on a Gods name, once more toward our
Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the Moone
   Kate. The Moone, the Sunne: it is not Moonelight
   Pet. I say it is the Moone that shines so bright
   Kate. I know it is the Sunne that shines so bright
   Pet. Now by my mothers sonne, and that's my selfe,
It shall be moone, or starre, or what I list,
Or ere I iourney to your Fathers house:
Goe on, and fetch our horses backe againe,
Euermore crost and crost, nothing but crost
   Hort. Say as he saies, or we shall neuer goe
   Kate. Forward I pray, since we haue come so farre,
And be it moone, or sunne, or what you please:
And if you please to call it a rush Candle,
Henceforth I vowe it shall be so for me
   Petr. I say it is the Moone
   Kate. I know it is the Moone
   Petr. Nay then you lye: it is the blessed Sunne
   Kate. Then God be blest, it is the blessed sun,
But sunne it is not, when you say it is not,
And the Moone changes euen as your minde:
What you will haue it nam'd, euen that it is,
And so it shall be so for Katherine
   Hort. Petruchio, goe thy waies, the field is won
   Petr. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowle should run,
And not vnluckily against the Bias:
But soft, Company is comming here.
Enter Vincentio.
Good morrow gentle Mistris, where away:
Tell me sweete Kate, and tell me truely too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman:
Such warre of white and red within her cheekes:
What stars do spangle heauen with such beautie,
As those two eyes become that heauenly face?
Faire louely Maide, once more good day to thee:
Sweete Kate embrace her for her beauties sake
   Hort. A will make the man mad to make the woman
   Kate. Yong budding Virgin, faire, and fresh, & sweet,
Whether away, or whether is thy aboade?
Happy the Parents of so faire a childe;
Happier the man whom fauourable stars
A lots thee for his louely bedfellow
   Petr. Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad,
This is a man old, wrinckled, faded, withered,
And not a Maiden, as thou saist he is
   Kate. Pardon old father my mistaking eies,
That haue bin so bedazled with the sunne,
That euery thing I looke on seemeth greene:
Now I perceiue thou art a reuerent Father:
Pardon I pray thee for my mad mistaking
   Petr. Do good old grandsire, & withall make known
Which way thou trauellest, if along with vs,
We shall be ioyfull of thy companie
   Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Mistris,
That with your strange encounter much amasde me:
My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,
And bound I am to Padua, there to visite
A sonne of mine, which long I haue not seene
   Petr. What is his name?
  Vinc. Lucentio gentle sir
   Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy sonne:
And now by Law, as well as reuerent age,
I may intitle thee my louing Father,
The sister to my wife, this Gentlewoman,
Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not,
Nor be not grieued, she is of good esteeme,
Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth;
Beside, so qualified, as may beseeme
The Spouse of any noble Gentleman:
Let me imbrace with old Vincentio,
And wander we to see thy honest sonne,
Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous
   Vinc. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure,
Like pleasant trauailors to breake a Iest
Vpon the companie you ouertake?
  Hort. I doe assure thee father so it is
   Petr. Come goe along and see the truth hereof,
For our first merriment hath made thee iealous.
  Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart;
Haue to my Widdow, and if she froward,
Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca, Gremio is out before.
  Biond. Softly and swiftly sir, for the Priest is ready
   Luc. I flie Biondello; but they may chance to neede
thee at home, therefore leaue vs.
  Biond. Nay faith, Ile see the Church a your backe,
and then come backe to my mistris as soone as I can
   Gre. I maruaile Cambio comes not all this while.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Vincentio, Grumio with Attendants.
  Petr. Sir heres the doore, this is Lucentios house,
My Fathers beares more toward the Market-place,
Thither must I, and here I leaue you sir
   Vin. You shall not choose but drinke before you go,
I thinke I shall command your welcome here;
And by all likelihood some cheere is toward.
  Grem. They're busie within, you were best knocke
Pedant lookes out of the window.
  Ped. What's he that knockes as he would beat downe
  Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within sir?
  Ped. He's within sir, but not to be spoken withall
   Vinc. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or
two to make merrie withall
   Ped. Keepe your hundred pounds to your selfe, hee
shall neede none so long as I liue
   Petr. Nay, I told you your sonne was well beloued in
Padua: doe you heare sir, to leaue friuolous circumstances,
I pray you tell signior Lucentio that his Father is
come from Pisa, and is here at the doore to speake with
   Ped. Thou liest his Father is come from Padua, and
here looking out at the window
   Vin. Art thou his father?
  Ped. I sir, so his mother saies, if I may beleeue her
   Petr. Why how now gentleman: why this is flat knauerie
to take vpon you another mans name
   Peda. Lay hands on the villaine, I beleeue a meanes
to cosen some bodie in this Citie vnder my countenance.
Enter Biondello.
  Bio. I haue seene them in the Church together, God
send 'em good shipping: but who is here? mine old Master
Vincentio: now wee are vndone and brought to nothing
   Vin. Come hither crackhempe
   Bion. I hope I may choose Sir
   Vin. Come hither you rogue, what haue you forgot
  Biond. Forgot you, no sir: I could not forget you, for
I neuer saw you before in all my life
   Vinc. What, you notorious villaine, didst thou neuer
see thy Mistris father, Vincentio?
  Bion. What my old worshipfull old master? yes
marie sir see where he lookes out of the window
   Vin. Ist so indeede.
He beates Biondello.
  Bion. Helpe, helpe, helpe, here's a mad man will murder
   Pedan. Helpe, sonne, helpe signior Baptista
   Petr. Preethe Kate let's stand aside and see the end of
this controuersie.
Enter Pedant with seruants, Baptista, Tranio.
  Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beate my seruant?
  Vinc. What am I sir: nay what are you sir: oh immortall
Goddes: oh fine villaine, a silken doublet, a veluet
hose, a scarlet cloake, and a copataine hat: oh I am
vndone, I am vndone: while I plaie the good husband
at home, my sonne and my seruant spend all at the vniuersitie
   Tra. How now, what's the matter?
  Bapt. What is the man lunaticke?
  Tra. Sir, you seeme a sober ancient Gentleman by
your habit: but your words shew you a mad man: why
sir, what cernes it you, if I weare Pearle and gold: I thank
my good Father, I am able to maintaine it
   Vin. Thy father: oh villaine, he is a Saile-maker in
   Bap. You mistake sir, you mistake sir, praie what do
you thinke is his name?
  Vin. His name, as if I knew not his name: I haue
brought him vp euer since he was three yeeres old, and
his name is Tronio
   Ped. Awaie, awaie mad asse, his name is Lucentio, and
he is mine onelie sonne and heire to the Lands of me signior
   Ven. Lucentio: oh he hath murdred his Master; laie
hold on him I charge you in the Dukes name: oh my
sonne, my sonne: tell me thou villaine, where is my son
  Tra. Call forth an officer: Carrie this mad knaue to
the Iaile: father Baptista, I charge you see that hee be
forth comming
   Vinc. Carrie me to the Iaile?
  Gre. Staie officer, he shall not go to prison
   Bap. Talke not signior Gremio: I saie he shall goe to
   Gre. Take heede signior Baptista, least you be conicatcht
in this businesse: I dare sweare this is the right
   Ped. Sweare if thou dar'st
   Gre. Naie, I dare not sweare it
   Tran. Then thou wert best saie that I am not Lucentio
   Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio
   Bap. Awaie with the dotard, to the Iaile with him.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianeu.
  Vin. Thus strangers may be haild and abusd: oh monstrous
   Bion. Oh we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, denie him,
forsweare him, or else we are all vndone.
Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as fast as may be.
  Luc. Pardon sweete father.
  Vin. Liues my sweete sonne?
  Bian. Pardon deere father
   Bap. How hast thou offended, where is Lucentio?
  Luc. Here's Lucentio, right sonne to the right Vincentio,
That haue by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes bleer'd thine eine
   Gre. Here's packing with a witnesse to deceiue vs all
   Vin. Where is that damned villaine Tranio,
That fac'd and braued me in this matter so?
  Bap. Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?
  Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio
   Luc. Loue wrought these miracles. Biancas loue
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
While he did beare my countenance in the towne,
And happilie I haue arriued at the last
Vnto the wished hauen of my blisse:
What Tranio did, my selfe enforst him to;
Then pardon him sweete Father for my sake
   Vin. Ile slit the villaines nose that would haue sent
me to the Iaile
   Bap. But doe you heare sir, haue you married my
daughter without asking my good will?
  Vin. Feare not Baptista, we will content you, goe to:
but I will in to be reueng'd for this villanie.
  Bap. And I to sound the depth of this knauerie.
  Luc. Looke not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.
  Gre. My cake is dough, but Ile in among the rest,
Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast
   Kate. Husband let's follow, to see the end of this adoe
   Petr. First kisse me Kate, and we will
   Kate. What in the midst of the streete?
  Petr. What art thou asham'd of me?
  Kate. No sir, God forbid, but asham'd to kisse
   Petr. Why then let's home againe: Come Sirra let's
   Kate. Nay, I will giue thee a kisse, now praie thee
   Petr. Is not this well? come my sweete Kate.
Better once then neuer, for neuer to late.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, and
Tranio, Biondello Grumio, and Widdow: The Seruingmen with
Tranio bringing
in a Banquet.
  Luc. At last, though long, our iarring notes agree,
And time it is when raging warre is come,
To smile at scapes and perils ouerblowne:
My faire Bianca bid my father welcome,
While I with selfesame kindnesse welcome thine:
Brother Petruchio, sister Katerina,
And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow:
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,
My Banket is to close our stomakes vp
After our great good cheere: praie you sit downe,
For now we sit to chat as well as eate
   Petr. Nothing but sit and sit, and eate and eate
   Bap. Padua affords this kindnesse, sonne Petruchio
   Petr. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde
   Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true
   Pet. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow
   Wid. Then neuer trust me if I be affeard
   Petr. You are verie sencible, and yet you misse my
I meane Hortentio is afeard of you
   Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round
   Petr. Roundlie replied
   Kat. Mistris, how meane you that?
  Wid. Thus I conceiue by him
   Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?
  Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiues her tale
   Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that good
   Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round,
I praie you tell me what you meant by that
   Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husbands sorrow by his woe:
And now you know my meaning
   Kate. A verie meane meaning
   Wid. Right, I meane you
   Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you
   Petr. To her Kate
   Hor. To her Widdow
   Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down
   Hor. That's my office
  Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.
Drinkes to Hortentio.
  Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?
  Gre. Beleeue me sir, they But together well
   Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie,
Would say your Head and But were head and horne
   Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you?
  Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe againe
   Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun:
Haue at you for a better iest or too
   Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my bush,
And then pursue me as you draw your Bow.
You are welcome all.
Exit Bianca.
  Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not,
Therefore a health to all that shot and mist
   Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound,
Which runs himselfe, and catches for his Master
   Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish
   Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe:
'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie
   Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now
   Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio
   Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here?
  Petr. A has a little gald me I confesse:
And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right
   Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio,
I thinke thou hast the veriest shrew of all
   Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir assurance,
Let's each one send vnto his wife,
And he whose wife is most obedient,
To come at first when he doth send for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propose
   Hort. Content, what's the wager?
  Luc. Twentie crownes
   Petr. Twentie crownes,
Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound,
But twentie times so much vpon my Wife
   Luc. A hundred then
   Hor. Content
   Petr. A match, 'tis done
   Hor. Who shall begin?
  Luc. That will I.
Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me
   Bio. I goe.
  Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe, Bianca comes
   Luc. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my selfe.
Enter Biondello.
How now, what newes?
  Bio. Sir, my Mistris sends you word
That she is busie, and she cannot come
   Petr. How? she's busie, and she cannot come: is that
  Gre. I, and a kinde one too:
Praie God sir your wife send you not a worse
   Petr. I hope better
   Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to
come to me forthwith.
  Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then shee must needes
   Hor. I am affraid sir, doe what you can
Enter Biondello.
Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?
  Bion. She saies you haue some goodly Iest in hand,
She will not come: she bids you come to her
   Petr. Worse and worse, she will not come:
Oh vilde, intollerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirra Grumio, goe to your Mistris,
Say I command her come to me.
  Hor. I know her answere
   Pet. What?
  Hor. She will not
   Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
Enter Katerina.
  Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina
   Kat. What is your will sir, that you send for me?
  Petr. Where is your sister, and Hortensios wife?
  Kate. They sit conferring by the Parler fire
   Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come,
Swinge me them soundly forth vnto their husbands:
Away I say, and bring them hither straight
   Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder
   Hor. And so it is: I wonder what it boads
   Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life,
An awfull rule, and right supremicie:
And to be short, what not, that's sweete and happie
   Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio;
The wager thou hast won, and I will adde
Vnto their losses twentie thousand crownes,
Another dowrie to another daughter,
For she is chang'd as she had neuer bin
   Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more signe of her obedience,
Her new built vertue and obedience.
Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.
See where she comes, and brings your froward Wiues
As prisoners to her womanlie perswasion:
Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not,
Off with that bable, throw it vnderfoote
   Wid. Lord let me neuer haue a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a sillie passe
   Bian. Fie what a foolish dutie call you this?
  Luc. I would your dutie were as foolish too:
The wisdome of your dutie faire Bianca,
Hath cost me fiue hundred crownes since supper time
   Bian. The more foole you for laying on my dutie
   Pet. Katherine I charge thee tell these head-strong
women, what dutie they doe owe their Lords and husbands
   Wid. Come, come, your mocking: we will haue no
   Pet. Come on I say, and first begin with her
   Wid. She shall not
   Pet. I say she shall, and first begin with her
   Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that threatning vnkinde brow,
And dart not scornefull glances from those eies,
To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Gouernour.
It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads,
Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds,
And in no sence is meete or amiable.
A woman mou'd, is like a fountaine troubled,
Muddie, ill seeming, thicke, bereft of beautie,
And while it is so, none so dry or thirstie
Will daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy soueraigne: One that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance. Commits his body
To painfull labour, both by sea and land:
To watch the night in stormes, the day in cold,
Whil'st thou ly'st warme at home, secure and safe,
And craues no other tribute at thy hands,
But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such dutie as the subiect owes the Prince,
Euen such a woman oweth to her husband:
And when she is froward, peeuish, sullen, sowre,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foule contending Rebell,
And gracelesse Traitor to her louing Lord?
I am asham'd that women are so simple,
To offer warre, where they should kneele for peace:
Or seeke for rule, supremacie, and sway,
When they are bound to serue, loue, and obay.
Why are our bodies soft, and weake, and smooth,
Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions, and our harts,
Should well agree with our externall parts?
Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes,
My minde hath bin as bigge as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haplie more,
To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne;
But now I see our Launces are but strawes:
Our strength as weake, our weakenesse past compare,
That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.
Then vale your stomackes, for it is no boote,
And place your hands below your husbands foote:
In token of which dutie, if he please,
My hand is readie, may it do him ease
   Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kisse mee
   Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou shalt ha't
   Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward
   Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward,
  Pet. Come Kate, wee'le to bed,
We three are married, but you two are sped.
'Twas I wonne the wager, though you hit the white,
And being a winner, God giue you good night.
Exit Petruchio
  Horten. Now goe thy wayes, thou hast tam'd a curst
   Luc. Tis a wonder, by your leaue, she wil be tam'd so.
FINIS. THE Taming of the Shrew.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Valentine: Protheus, and Speed.
  Valentine. Cease to perswade, my louing Protheus;
Home-keeping youth, haue euer homely wits,
Wer't not affection chaines thy tender dayes
To the sweet glaunces of thy honour'd Loue,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Then (liuing dully sluggardiz'd at home)
Weare out thy youth with shapelesse idlenesse.
But since thou lou'st; loue still, and thriue therein,
Euen as I would, when I to loue begin
   Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine adew,
Thinke on thy Protheus, when thou (hap'ly) seest
Some rare note-worthy obiect in thy trauaile.
Wish me partaker in thy happinesse,
When thou do'st meet good hap; and in thy danger,
(If euer danger doe enuiron thee)
Commend thy grieuance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beades-man, Valentine
   Val. And on a loue-booke pray for my successe?
  Pro. Vpon some booke I loue, I'le pray for thee
   Val. That's on some shallow Storie of deepe loue,
How yong Leander crost the Hellespont
   Pro. That's a deepe Storie, of a deeper loue,
For he was more then ouer-shooes in loue
   Val. 'Tis true; for you are ouer-bootes in loue,
And yet you neuer swom the Hellespont
   Pro. Ouer the Bootes? nay giue me not the Boots
   Val. No, I will not; for it boots thee not
   Pro. What?
  Val. To be in loue; where scorne is bought with grones:
Coy looks, with hart-sore sighes: one fading moments mirth,
With twenty watchfull, weary, tedious nights;
If hap'ly won, perhaps a haplesse gaine;
If lost, why then a grieuous labour won;
How euer: but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit, by folly vanquished
   Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me foole
   Val. So, by your circumstance, I feare you'll proue
   Pro. 'Tis Loue you cauill at, I am not Loue
   Val. Loue is your master, for he masters you;
And he that is so yoked by a foole,
Me thinkes should not be chronicled for wise
   Pro. Yet Writers say; as in the sweetest Bud,
The eating Canker dwels; so eating Loue
Inhabits in the finest wits of all
   Val. And Writers say; as the most forward Bud
Is eaten by the Canker ere it blow,
Euen so by Loue, the yong, and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the Bud,
Loosing his verdure, euen in the prime,
And all the faire effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsaile thee
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu: my Father at the Road
Expects my comming, there to see me ship'd
   Pro. And thither will I bring thee Valentine
   Val. Sweet Protheus, no: Now let vs take our leaue:
To Millaine let me heare from thee by Letters
Of thy successe in loue; and what newes else
Betideth here in absence of thy Friend:
And I likewise will visite thee with mine
   Pro. All happinesse bechance to thee in Millaine
   Val. As much to you at home: and so farewell.
   Pro. He after Honour hunts, I after Loue;
He leaues his friends, to dignifie them more;
I loue my selfe, my friends, and all for loue:
Thou Iulia, thou hast metamorphis'd me:
Made me neglect my Studies, loose my time;
Warre with good counsaile; set the world at nought;
Made Wit with musing, weake; hart sick with thought
   Sp. Sir Protheus: 'saue you: saw you my Master?
  Pro. But now he parted hence to embarque for Millain
   Sp. Twenty to one then, he is ship'd already,
And I haue plaid the Sheepe in loosing him
   Pro. Indeede a Sheepe doth very often stray,
And if the Shepheard be awhile away
   Sp. You conclude that my Master is a Shepheard then,
and I Sheepe?
  Pro. I doe
   Sp. Why then my hornes are his hornes, whether I
wake or sleepe
   Pro. A silly answere, and fitting well a Sheepe
   Sp. This proues me still a Sheepe
   Pro. True: and thy Master a Shepheard
   Sp. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance
   Pro. It shall goe hard but ile proue it by another
   Sp. The Shepheard seekes the Sheepe, and not the
Sheepe the Shepheard; but I seeke my Master, and my
Master seekes not me: therefore I am no Sheepe
   Pro. The Sheepe for fodder follow the Shepheard,
the Shepheard for foode followes not the Sheepe: thou
for wages followest thy Master, thy Master for wages
followes not thee: therefore thou art a Sheepe
   Sp. Such another proofe will make me cry baa
   Pro. But do'st thou heare: gau'st thou my Letter
  Sp. I Sir: I (a lost-Mutton) gaue your Letter to her
(a lac'd-Mutton) and she (a lac'd-Mutton) gaue mee (a
lost-Mutton) nothing for my labour
   Pro. Here's too small a Pasture for such store of
   Sp. If the ground be ouer-charg'd, you were best
   Pro. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound
   Sp. Nay Sir, lesse then a pound shall serue me for carrying
   Pro. You mistake; I meane the pound, a Pinfold
   Sp. From a pound to a pin? fold it ouer and ouer,
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your louer
  Pro. But what said she?
   Pro. Nod-I, why that's noddy
   Sp. You mistooke Sir: I say she did nod;
And you aske me if she did nod, and I say I
   Pro. And that set together is noddy
   Sp. Now you haue taken the paines to set it together,
take it for your paines
   Pro. No, no, you shall haue it for bearing the letter
   Sp. Well, I perceiue I must be faine to beare with you
   Pro. Why Sir, how doe you beare with me?
  Sp. Marry Sir, the letter very orderly,
Hauing nothing but the word noddy for my paines
   Pro. Beshrew me, but you haue a quicke wit
   Sp. And yet it cannot ouer-take your slow purse
   Pro. Come, come, open the matter in briefe; what
   Sp. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter
may be both at once deliuered
   Pro. Well Sir: here is for your paines: what said she?
  Sp. Truely Sir, I thinke you'll hardly win her
   Pro. Why? could'st thou perceiue so much from her?
  Sp. Sir, I could perceiue nothing at all from her;
No, not so much as a ducket for deliuering your letter:
And being so hard to me, that brought your minde;
I feare she'll proue as hard to you in telling your minde.
Giue her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steele
   Pro. What said she, nothing?
  Sp. No, not so much as take this for thy pains:
To testifie your bounty, I thank you, you haue cestern'd me;
In requital whereof, henceforth, carry your letters your
selfe; And so Sir, I'le commend you to my Master
   Pro. Go, go, be gone, to saue your Ship from wrack,
Which cannot perish hauing thee aboarde,
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore:
I must goe send some better Messenger,
I feare my Iulia would not daigne my lines,
Receiuing them from such a worthlesse post.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Iulia and Lucetta.
  Iul. But say Lucetta (now we are alone)
Would'st thou then counsaile me to fall in loue?
  Luc. I Madam, so you stumble not vnheedfully
   Iul. Of all the faire resort of Gentlemen,
That euery day with par'le encounter me,
In thy opinion which is worthiest loue?
  Lu. Please you repeat their names, ile shew my minde,
According to my shallow simple skill
   Iu. What thinkst thou of the faire sir Eglamoure?
  Lu. As of a Knight, well-spoken, neat, and fine;
But were I you, he neuer should be mine
   Iu. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio?
  Lu. Well of his wealth; but of himselfe, so, so
   Iu. What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus?
  Lu. Lord, Lord: to see what folly raignes in vs
   Iu. How now? what meanes this passion at his name?
  Lu. Pardon deare Madam, 'tis a passing shame,
That I (vnworthy body as I am)
Should censure thus on louely Gentlemen
   Iu. Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest?
  Lu. Then thus: of many good, I thinke him best
   Iul. Your reason?
  Lu. I haue no other but a womans reason:
I thinke him so, because I thinke him so
   Iul. And would'st thou haue me cast my loue on him?
  Lu. I: if you thought your loue not cast away
   Iul. Why he, of all the rest, hath neuer mou'd me
   Lu. Yet he, of all the rest, I thinke best loues ye
   Iul. His little speaking, shewes his loue but small
   Lu. Fire that's closest kept, burnes most of all
   Iul. They doe not loue, that doe not shew their loue
   Lu. Oh, they loue least, that let men know their loue
   Iul. I would I knew his minde
   Lu. Peruse this paper Madam
   Iul. To Iulia: say, from whom?
  Lu. That the Contents will shew
   Iul. Say, say: who gaue it thee?
  Lu. Sir Valentines page: & sent I think from Protheus;
He would haue giuen it you, but I being in the way,
Did in your name receiue it: pardon the fault I pray
   Iul. Now (by my modesty) a goodly Broker:
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper, and conspire against my youth?
Now trust me, 'tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place:
There: take the paper: see it be return'd,
Or else returne no more into my sight
   Lu. To plead for loue, deserues more fee, then hate
   Iul. Will ye be gon?
  Lu. That you may ruminate.
  Iul. And yet I would I had ore-look'd the Letter;
It were a shame to call her backe againe,
And pray her to a fault, for which I chid her.
What 'foole is she, that knowes I am a Maid,
And would not force the letter to my view?
Since Maides, in modesty, say no, to that,
Which they would haue the profferer construe, I.
Fie, fie: how way-ward is this foolish loue;
That (like a testie Babe) will scratch the Nurse,
And presently, all humbled kisse the Rod?
How churlishly, I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly, I would haue had her here?
How angerly I taught my brow to frowne,
When inward ioy enforc'd my heart to smile?
My pennance is, to call Lucetta backe
And aske remission, for my folly past.
What hoe: Lucetta
   Lu. What would your Ladiship?
  Iul. Is't neere dinner time?
  Lu. I would it were,
That you might kill your stomacke on your meat,
And not vpon your Maid
   Iu. What is't that you
Tooke vp so gingerly?
  Lu. Nothing
   Iu. Why didst thou stoope then?
  Lu. To take a paper vp, that I let fall
   Iul. And is that paper nothing?
  Lu. Nothing concerning me
   Iul. Then let it lye, for those that it concernes
   Lu. Madam, it will not lye where it concernes,
Vnlesse it haue a false Interpreter
   Iul. Some loue of yours, hath writ to you in Rime
   Lu. That I might sing it (Madam) to a tune:
Giue me a Note, your Ladiship can set
  Iul. As little by such toyes, as may be possible:
Best sing it to the tune of Light O, Loue
   Lu. It is too heauy for so light a tune
   Iu. Heauy? belike it hath some burden then?
  Lu. I: and melodious were it, would you sing it,
  Iu. And why not you?
  Lu. I cannot reach so high
   Iu. Let's see your Song:
How now Minion?
  Lu. Keepe tune there still; so you will sing it out:
And yet me thinkes I do not like this tune
   Iu. You doe not?
  Lu. No (Madam) tis too sharpe
   Iu. You (Minion) are too saucie
   Lu. Nay, now you are too flat;
And marre the concord, with too harsh a descant:
There wanteth but a Meane to fill your Song
   Iu. The meane is dround with you vnruly base
   Lu. Indeede I bid the base for Protheus
   Iu. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me;
Here is a coile with protestation:
Goe, get you gone: and let the papers lye:
You would be fingring them, to anger me
   Lu. She makes it stra[n]ge, but she would be best pleas'd
To be so angred with another Letter
   Iu. Nay, would I were so angred with the same:
Oh hatefull hands, to teare such louing words;
Iniurious Waspes, to feede on such sweet hony,
And kill the Bees that yeelde it, with your stings;
Ile kisse each seuerall paper, for amends:
Looke, here is writ, kinde Iulia: vnkinde Iulia,
As in reuenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruzing-stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdaine.
And here is writ, Loue wounded Protheus.
Poore wounded name: my bosome, as a bed,
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a soueraigne kisse.
But twice, or thrice, was Protheus written downe:
Be calme (good winde) blow not a word away,
Till I haue found each letter, in the Letter,
Except mine own name: That, some whirle-winde beare
Vnto a ragged, fearefull, hanging Rocke,
And throw it thence into the raging Sea.
Loe, here in one line is his name twice writ:
Poore forlorne Protheus, passionate Protheus:
To the sweet Iulia: that ile teare away:
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it, to his complaining Names;
Thus will I fold them, one vpon another;
Now kisse, embrace, contend, doe what you will
   Lu. Madam: dinner is ready: and your father staies
   Iu. Well, let vs goe
   Lu. What, shall these papers lye, like Tel-tales here?
  Iu. If you respect them; best to take them vp
   Lu. Nay, I was taken vp, for laying them downe.
Yet here they shall not lye, for catching cold
   Iu. I see you haue a months minde to them
   Lu. I (Madam) you may say what sights you see;
I see things too, although you iudge I winke
   Iu. Come, come, wilt please you goe.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Antonio and Panthino. Protheus.
  Ant. Tell me Panthino, what sad talke was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the Cloyster?
  Pan. 'Twas of his Nephew Protheus, your Sonne
   Ant. Why? what of him?
  Pan. He wondred that your Lordship
Would suffer him, to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation
Put forth their Sonnes, to seeke preferment out.
Some to the warres, to try their fortune there;
Some, to discouer Islands farre away:
Some, to the studious Vniuersities;
For any, or for all these exercises,
He said, that Protheus, your sonne, was meet;
And did request me, to importune you
To let him spend his time no more at home;
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
In hauing knowne no trauaile in his youth
   Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that
Whereon, this month I haue bin hamering.
I haue consider'd well, his losse of time,
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tryed, and tutord in the world:
Experience is by industry atchieu'd,
And perfected by the swift course of time:
Then tell me, whether were I best to send him?
  Pan. I thinke your Lordship is not ignorant
How his companion, youthfull Valentine,
Attends the Emperour in his royall Court
   Ant. I know it well
   Pan. 'Twere good, I thinke, your Lordship sent him
There shall he practise Tilts, and Turnaments;
Heare sweet discourse, conuerse with Noble-men,
And be in eye of euery Exercise
Worthy his youth, and noblenesse of birth
   Ant. I like thy counsaile: well hast thou aduis'd:
And that thou maist perceiue how well I like it,
The execution of it shall make knowne;
Euen with the speediest expedition,
I will dispatch him to the Emperors Court
   Pan. To morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso,
With other Gentlemen of good esteeme
Are iournying, to salute the Emperor,
And to commend their seruice to his will
   Ant. Good company: with them shall Protheus go:
And in good time: now will we breake with him
   Pro. Sweet Loue, sweet lines, sweet life,
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart;
Here is her oath for loue, her honors paune;
O that our Fathers would applaud our loues
To seale our happinesse with their consents
   Pro. Oh heauenly Iulia
   Ant. How now? What Letter are you reading there?
  Pro. May't please your Lordship, 'tis a word or two
Of commendations sent from Valentine;
Deliuer'd by a friend, that came from him
   Ant. Lend me the Letter: Let me see what newes
   Pro. There is no newes (my Lord) but that he writes
How happily he liues, how well-belou'd,
And daily graced by the Emperor;
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune
   Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish?
  Pro. As one relying on your Lordships will,
And not depending on his friendly wish
   Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish:
Muse not that I thus sodainly proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there an end:
I am resolu'd, that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus, in the Emperors Court:
What maintenance he from his friends receiues,
Like exhibition thou shalt haue from me,
To morrow be in readinesse, to goe,
Excuse it not: for I am peremptory
   Pro. My Lord I cannot be so soone prouided,
Please you deliberate a day or two
   Ant. Look what thou want'st shalbe sent after thee:
No more of stay: to morrow thou must goe;
Come on Panthino; you shall be imployd,
To hasten on his Expedition
   Pro. Thus haue I shund the fire, for feare of burning,
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd.
I fear'd to shew my Father Iulias Letter,
Least he should take exceptions to my loue,
And with the vantage of mine owne excuse
Hath he excepted most against my loue.
Oh, how this spring of loue resembleth
The vncertaine glory of an Aprill day,
Which now shewes all the beauty of the Sun,
And by and by a clowd takes all away
   Pan. Sir Protheus, your Fathers call's for you,
He is in hast, therefore I pray you go
   Pro. Why this it is: my heart accords thereto,
And yet a thousand times it answer's no.
Exeunt. Finis.
Actus secundus: Scoena Prima.
Enter Valentine, Speed, Siluia
   Speed. Sir, your Gloue
   Valen. Not mine: my Gloues are on
   Sp. Why then this may be yours: for this is but one
   Val. Ha? Let me see: I, giue it me, it's mine:
Sweet Ornament, that deckes a thing diuine,
Ah Siluia, Siluia
   Speed. Madam Siluia: Madam Siluia
   Val. How now Sirha?
  Speed. Shee is not within hearing Sir
   Val. Why sir, who bad you call her?
  Speed. Your worship sir, or else I mistooke
   Val. Well: you'll still be too forward
   Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow
   Val. Goe to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Siluia?
  Speed. Shee that your worship loues?
  Val. Why, how know you that I am in loue?
  Speed. Marry by these speciall markes: first, you haue
learn'd (like Sir Protheus) to wreath your Armes like a
Male-content: to rellish a Loue-song, like a Robin-redbreast:
to walke alone like one that had the pestilence:
to sigh, like a Schoole-boy that had lost his A.B.C. to
weep like a yong wench that had buried her Grandam:
to fast, like one that takes diet: to watch, like one that
feares robbing: to speake puling, like a beggar at Hallow-Masse:
You were wont, when you laughed, to crow
like a cocke; when you walk'd, to walke like one of the
Lions: when you fasted, it was presently after dinner:
when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money: And
now you are Metamorphis'd with a Mistris, that when I
looke on you, I can hardly thinke you my Master
   Val. Are all these things perceiu'd in me?
  Speed. They are all perceiu'd without ye
   Val. Without me? they cannot
   Speed. Without you? nay, that's certaine: for without
you were so simple, none else would: but you are
so without these follies, that these follies are within you,
and shine through you like the water in an Vrinall: that
not an eye that sees you, but is a Physician to comment
on your Malady
   Val. But tell me: do'st thou know my Lady Siluia?
  Speed. Shee that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper?
  Val. Hast thou obseru'd that? euen she I meane
   Speed. Why sir, I know her not
   Val. Do'st thou know her by my gazing on her, and
yet know'st her not?
  Speed. Is she not hard-fauour'd, sir?
  Val. Not so faire (boy) as well fauour'd
   Speed. Sir, I know that well enough
   Val. What dost thou know?
  Speed. That shee is not so faire, as (of you) well-fauourd?
  Val. I meane that her beauty is exquisite,
But her fauour infinite
   Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other
out of all count
   Val. How painted? and how out of count?
  Speed. Marry sir, so painted to make her faire, that no
man counts of her beauty
   Val. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty
   Speed. You neuer saw her since she was deform'd
   Val. How long hath she beene deform'd?
  Speed. Euer since you lou'd her
   Val. I haue lou'd her euer since I saw her,
And still I see her beautifull
   Speed. If you loue her, you cannot see her
   Val. Why?
  Speed. Because Loue is blinde: O that you had mine
eyes, or your owne eyes had the lights they were wont
to haue, when you chidde at Sir Protheus, for going vngarter'd
   Val. What should I see then?
  Speed. Your owne present folly, and her passing deformitie:
for hee beeing in loue, could not see to garter
his hose; and you, beeing in loue, cannot see to put on
   Val. Belike (boy) then you are in loue, for last morning
You could not see to wipe my shooes
   Speed. True sir: I was in loue with my bed, I thanke
you, you swing'd me for my loue, which makes mee the
bolder to chide you, for yours
   Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her
   Speed. I would you were set, so your affection would
   Val. Last night she enioyn'd me,
To write some lines to one she loues
   Speed. And haue you?
  Val. I haue
   Speed. Are they not lamely writt?
  Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can do them:
Peace, here she comes
   Speed. Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet:
Now will he interpret to her
   Val. Madam & Mistres, a thousand good-morrows
   Speed. Oh, 'giue ye-good-ev'n: heer's a million of
   Sil. Sir Valentine, and seruant, to you two thousand
   Speed. He should giue her interest: & she giues it him
   Val. As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter
Vnto the secret, nameles friend of yours:
Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your Ladiship
   Sil. I thanke you (gentle Seruant) 'tis very Clerklydone
   Val. Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off:
For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at randome, very doubtfully
   Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?
  Val. No (Madam) so it steed you, I will write
(Please you command) a thousand times as much:
  Sil. A pretty period: well: I ghesse the sequell;
And yet I will not name it: and yet I care not.
And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you:
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more
   Speed. And yet you will: and yet, another yet
   Val. What meanes your Ladiship?
Doe you not like it?
  Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ,
But (since vnwillingly) take them againe.
Nay, take them
   Val. Madam, they are for you
   Silu. I, I: you writ them Sir, at my request,
But I will none of them: they are for you:
I would haue had them writ more mouingly:
  Val. Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another
   Sil. And when it's writ: for my sake read it ouer,
And if it please you, so: if not: why so:
  Val. If it please me, (Madam?) what then?
  Sil. Why if it please you, take it for your labour;
And so good-morrow Seruant.
  Speed. Oh Iest vnseene: inscrutible: inuisible,
As a nose on a mans face, or a Wethercocke on a steeple:
My Master sues to her: and she hath taught her Sutor,
He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor.
Oh excellent deuise, was there euer heard a better?
That my master being scribe,
To himselfe should write the Letter?
  Val. How now Sir?
What are you reasoning with your selfe?
  Speed. Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y haue the reason
   Val. To doe what?
  Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia
   Val. To whom?
  Speed. To your selfe: why, she woes you by a figure
   Val. What figure?
  Speed. By a Letter, I should say
   Val. Why she hath not writ to me?
  Speed. What need she,
When shee hath made you write to your selfe?
Why, doe you not perceiue the iest?
  Val. No, beleeue me
   Speed. No beleeuing you indeed sir:
But did you perceiue her earnest?
  Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word
   Speed. Why she hath giuen you a Letter
   Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend
   Speed. And y letter hath she deliuer'd, & there an end
   Val. I would it were no worse
   Speed. Ile warrant you, 'tis as well:
For often haue you writ to her: and she in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not againe reply,
Or fearing els some messe[n]ger, y might her mind discouer
Her self hath taught her Loue himself, to write vnto her louer.
All this I speak in print, for in print I found it.
Why muse you sir, 'tis dinner time
   Val. I haue dyn'd
   Speed. I, but hearken sir: though the Cameleon Loue
can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nourish'd by my
victuals; and would faine haue meate: oh bee not like
your Mistresse, be moued, be moued.
Scoena secunda.
Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion.
  Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia:
  Iul. I must where is no remedy
   Pro. When possibly I can, I will returne
   Iul. If you turne not: you will return the sooner:
Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake
   Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange;
Here, take you this
   Iul. And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse
   Pro. Here is my hand, for my true constancie:
And when that howre ore-slips me in the day,
Wherein I sigh not (Iulia) for thy sake,
The next ensuing howre, some foule mischance
Torment me for my Loues forgetfulnesse:
My father staies my comming: answere not:
The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares,
That tide will stay me longer then I should,
Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word?
I, so true loue should doe: it cannot speake,
For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it
   Panth. Sir Protheus: you are staid for
   Pro. Goe: I come, I come:
Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Launce, Panthion.
  Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I haue done
weeping: all the kinde of the Launces, haue this very
fault: I haue receiu'd my proportion, like the prodigious
Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperialls
Court: I thinke Crab my dog, be the sowrest natured
dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father
wayling: my Sister crying: our Maid howling: our
Catte wringing her hands, and all our house in a great
perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre shedde
one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no
more pitty in him then a dogge: a Iew would haue wept
to haue seene our parting: why my Grandam hauing
no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe blinde at my parting:
nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This shooe is my father:
no, this left shooe is my father; no, no, this left
shooe is my mother: nay, that cannot bee so neyther:
yes; it is so, it is so: it hath the worser sole: this shooe
with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father:
a veng'ance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, this staffe is my sister:
for, looke you, she is as white as a lilly, and as
small as a wand: this hat is Nan our maid: I am the
dogge: no, the dogge is himselfe, and I am the dogge:
oh, the dogge is me, and I am my selfe: I; so, so: now
come I to my Father; Father, your blessing: now
should not the shooe speake a word for weeping:
now should I kisse my Father; well, hee weepes on:
Now come I to my Mother: Oh that she could speake
now, like a would-woman: well, I kisse her: why
there 'tis; heere's my mothers breath vp and downe:
Now come I to my sister; marke the moane she makes:
now the dogge all this while sheds not a teare: nor
speakes a word: but see how I lay the dust with my
   Panth. Launce, away, away: a Boord: thy Master is
ship'd, and thou art to post after with oares; what's the
matter? why weep'st thou man? away asse, you'l loose
the Tide, if you tarry any longer
   Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the
vnkindest Tide, that euer any man tide
   Panth. What's the vnkindest tide?
  Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog
   Pant. Tut, man: I meane thou'lt loose the flood, and
in loosing the flood, loose thy voyage, and in loosing thy
voyage, loose thy Master, and in loosing thy Master,
loose thy seruice, and in loosing thy seruice: - why
dost thou stop my mouth?
  Laun. For feare thou shouldst loose thy tongue
   Panth. Where should I loose my tongue?
  Laun. In thy Tale
   Panth. In thy Taile
   Laun. Loose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Master,
and the Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer
were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares: if the winde
were downe, I could driue the boate with my sighes
   Panth. Come: come away man, I was sent to call
   Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st
   Pant. Wilt thou goe?
  Laun. Well, I will goe.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, Siluia, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protheus.
  Sil. Seruant
   Val. Mistris
   Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you
   Val. I Boy, it's for loue
   Spee. Not of you
   Val. Of my Mistresse then
   Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him
   Sil. Seruant, you are sad
   Val. Indeed, Madam, I seeme so
   Thu. Seeme you that you are not?
  Val. Hap'ly I doe
   Thu. So doe Counterfeyts
   Val. So doe you
   Thu. What seeme I that I am not?
   Thu. What instance of the contrary?
  Val. Your folly
   Thu. And how quoat you my folly?
  Val. I quoat it in your Ierkin
   Thu. My Ierkin is a doublet
   Val. Well then, Ile double your folly
   Thu. How?
  Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio, do you change colour?
  Val. Giue him leaue, Madam, he is a kind of Camelion
   Thu. That hath more minde to feed on your bloud,
then liue in your ayre
   Val. You haue said Sir
   Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time
   Val. I know it wel sir, you alwaies end ere you begin
   Sil. A fine volly of words, gentleme[n], & quickly shot off
  Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giuer
   Sil. Who is that Seruant?
  Val. Your selfe (sweet Lady) for you gaue the fire,
Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes,
And spends what he borrowes kindly in your company
   Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall
make your wit bankrupt
   Val. I know it well sir: you haue an Exchequer of words,
And I thinke, no other treasure to giue your followers:
For it appeares by their bare Liueries
That they liue by your bare words
   Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more:
Here comes my father
   Duk. Now, daughter Siluia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father is in good health,
What say you to a Letter from your friends
Of much good newes?
  Val. My Lord, I will be thankfull,
To any happy messenger from thence
   Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman?
  Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed
   Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?
  Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserues
The honor, and regard of such a father
   Duk. You know him well?
  Val. I knew him as my selfe: for from our Infancie
We haue conuerst, and spent our howres together,
And though my selfe haue beene an idle Trewant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time
To cloath mine age with Angel-like perfection:
Yet hath Sir Protheus (for that's his name)
Made vse, and faire aduantage of his daies:
His yeares but yong, but his experience old:
His head vn-mellowed, but his Iudgement ripe;
And in a word (for far behinde his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow.)
He is compleat in feature, and in minde,
With all good grace, to grace a Gentleman
   Duk. Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good
He is as worthy for an Empresse loue,
As meet to be an Emperors Councellor:
Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me
With Commendation from great Potentates,
And heere he meanes to spend his time a while,
I thinke 'tis no vn-welcome newes to you
   Val. Should I haue wish'd a thing, it had beene he
   Duk. Welcome him then according to his worth:
Siluia, I speake to you, and you Sir Thurio,
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it,
I will send him hither to you presently
   Val. This is the Gentleman I told your Ladiship
Had come along with me, but that his Mistresse
Did hold his eyes, lockt in her Christall lookes
   Sil. Be-like that now she hath enfranchis'd them
Vpon some other pawne for fealty
   Val. Nay sure, I thinke she holds them prisoners stil
   Sil. Nay then he should be blind, and being blind
How could he see his way to seeke out you?
  Val. Why Lady, Loue hath twenty paire of eyes
   Thur. They say that Loue hath not an eye at all
   Val. To see such Louers, Thurio, as your selfe,
Vpon a homely obiect, Loue can winke
   Sil. Haue done, haue done: here comes y gentleman
   Val. Welcome, deer Protheus: Mistris, I beseech you
Confirme his welcome, with some speciall fauor
   Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hether,
If this be he you oft haue wish'd to heare from
   Val. Mistris, it is: sweet Lady, entertaine him
To be my fellow-seruant to your Ladiship
   Sil. Too low a Mistres for so high a seruant
   Pro. Not so, sweet Lady, but too meane a seruant
To haue a looke of such a worthy a Mistresse
   Val. Leaue off discourse of disabilitie:
Sweet Lady, entertaine him for your Seruant
   Pro. My dutie will I boast of, nothing else
   Sil. And dutie neuer yet did want his meed.
Seruant, you are welcome to a worthlesse Mistresse
   Pro. Ile die on him that saies so but your selfe
   Sil. That you are welcome?
  Pro. That you are worthlesse
   Thur. Madam, my Lord your father wold speak with you
   Sil. I wait vpon his pleasure: Come Sir Thurio,
Goe with me: once more, new Seruant welcome;
Ile leaue you to confer of home affaires,
When you haue done, we looke too heare from you
   Pro. Wee'll both attend vpon your Ladiship
   Val. Now tell me: how do al from whence you came?
  Pro. Your frends are wel, & haue the[m] much co[m]mended
   Val. And how doe yours?
  Pro. I left them all in health
   Val. How does your Lady? & how thriues your loue?
  Pro. My tales of Loue were wont to weary you,
I know you ioy not in a Loue-discourse
   Val. I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now,
I haue done pennance for contemning Loue,
Whose high emperious thoughts haue punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitentiall grones,
With nightly teares, and daily hart-sore sighes,
For in reuenge of my contempt of loue,
Loue hath chas'd sleepe from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine owne hearts sorrow.
O gentle Protheus, Loue's a mighty Lord,
And hath so humbled me, as I confesse
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his Seruice, no such ioy on earth:
Now, no discourse, except it be of loue:
Now can I breake my fast, dine, sup, and sleepe,
Vpon the very naked name of Loue
   Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye:
Was this the Idoll, that you worship so?
  Val. Euen She; and is she not a heauenly Saint?
  Pro. No; But she is an earthly Paragon
   Val. Call her diuine
   Pro. I will not flatter her
   Val. O flatter me: for Loue delights in praises
   Pro. When I was sick, you gaue me bitter pils,
And I must minister the like to you
   Val. Then speake the truth by her; if not diuine,
Yet let her be a principalitie,
Soueraigne to all the Creatures on the earth
   Pro. Except my Mistresse
   Val. Sweet: except not any,
Except thou wilt except against my Loue
   Pro. Haue I not reason to prefer mine owne?
  Val. And I will help thee to prefer her to:
Shee shall be dignified with this high honour,
To beare my Ladies traine, lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steale a kisse,
And of so great a fauor growing proud,
Disdaine to roote the Sommer-swelling flowre,
And make rough winter euerlastingly
   Pro. Why Valentine, what Bragadisme is this?
  Val. Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing,
To her, whose worth, make other worthies nothing;
Shee is alone
   Pro. Then let her alone
   Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine owne,
And I as rich in hauing such a Iewell
As twenty Seas, if all their sand were pearle,
The water, Nectar, and the Rocks pure gold.
Forgiue me, that I doe not dreame on thee,
Because thou seest me doate vpon my loue:
My foolish Riuall that her Father likes
(Onely for his possessions are so huge)
Is gone with her along, and I must after,
For Loue (thou know'st is full of iealousie.)
  Pro. But she loues you?
  Val. I, and we are betroathd: nay more, our mariage howre,
With all the cunning manner of our flight
Determin'd of: how I must climbe her window,
The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on for my happinesse.
Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber,
In these affaires to aid me with thy counsaile
   Pro. Goe on before: I shall enquire you forth:
I must vnto the Road, to dis-embarque
Some necessaries, that I needs must vse,
And then Ile presently attend you
   Val. Will you make haste?
  Pro. I will.
Euen as one heate, another heate expels,
Or as one naile, by strength driues out another.
So the remembrance of my former Loue
Is by a newer obiect quite forgotten,
It is mine, or Valentines praise?
Her true perfection, or my false transgression?
That makes me reasonlesse, to reason thus?
Shee is faire: and so is Iulia that I loue,
(That I did loue, for now my loue is thaw'd,
Which like a waxen Image 'gainst a fire
Beares no impression of the thing it was.)
Me thinkes my zeale to Valentine is cold,
And that I loue him not as I was wont:
O, but I loue his Lady too-too much,
And that's the reason I loue him so little.
How shall I doate on her with more aduice,
That thus without aduice begin to loue her?
'Tis but her picture I haue yet beheld,
And that hath dazel'd my reasons light:
But when I looke on her perfections,
There is no reason, but I shall be blinde.
If I can checke my erring loue, I will,
If not, to compasse her Ile vse my skill.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Speed and Launce.
  Speed. Launce, by mine honesty welcome to Padua
   Laun. Forsweare not thy selfe, sweet youth, for I am
not welcome. I reckon this alwaies, that a man is neuer
vndon till hee be hang'd, nor neuer welcome to a place,
till some certaine shot be paid, and the Hostesse say welcome
   Speed. Come-on you mad-cap: Ile to the Ale-house
with you presently; where, for one shot of fiue pence,
thou shalt haue fiue thousand welcomes: But sirha, how
did thy Master part with Madam Iulia?
  Lau. Marry after they cloas'd in earnest, they parted
very fairely in iest
   Spee. But shall she marry him?
   Spee. How then? shall he marry her?
  Lau. No, neither
   Spee. What, are they broken?
  Lau. No; they are both as whole as a fish
   Spee. Why then, how stands the matter with them?
  Lau. Marry thus, when it stands well with him, it
stands well with her
   Spee. What an asse art thou, I vnderstand thee not
   Lau. What a blocke art thou, that thou canst not?
My staffe vnderstands me?
  Spee. What thou saist?
  Lau. I, and what I do too: looke thee, Ile but leane,
and my staffe vnderstands me
   Spee. It stands vnder thee indeed
   Lau. Why, stand-vnder: and vnder-stand is all one
   Spee. But tell me true, wil't be a match?
  Lau. Aske my dogge, if he say I, it will: if hee say
no, it will: if hee shake his taile, and say nothing, it
   Spee. The conclusion is then, that it will
   Lau. Thou shalt neuer get such a secret from me, but
by a parable
   Spee. 'Tis well that I get it so: but Launce, how saist
thou that that my master is become a notable Louer?
  Lau. I neuer knew him otherwise
   Spee. Then how?
  Lau. A notable Lubber: as thou reportest him to
   Spee. Why, thou whorson Asse, thou mistak'st me,
  Lau. Why Foole, I meant not thee, I meant thy
   Spee. I tell thee, my Master is become a hot Louer
   Lau. Why, I tell thee, I care not, though hee burne
himselfe in Loue. If thou wilt goe with me to the Alehouse:
if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Iew, and not worth
the name of a Christian
   Spee. Why?
  Lau. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as
to goe to the Ale with a Christian: Wilt thou goe?
  Spee. At thy seruice.
Scoena Sexta.
Enter Protheus solus.
  Pro. To leaue my Iulia; shall I be forsworne?
To loue faire Siluia; shall I be forsworne?
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworne.
And ev'n that Powre which gaue me first my oath
Prouokes me to this three-fold periurie.
Loue bad mee sweare, and Loue bids me for-sweare;
O sweet-suggesting Loue, if thou hast sin'd,
Teach me (thy tempted subiect) to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling Starre,
But now I worship a celestiall Sunne:
Vn-heedfull vowes may heedfully be broken,
And he wants wit, that wants resolued will,
To learne his wit, t' exchange the bad for better;
Fie, fie, vnreuerend tongue, to call her bad,
Whose soueraignty so oft thou hast preferd,
With twenty thousand soule-confirming oathes.
I cannot leaue to loue; and yet I doe:
But there I leaue to loue, where I should loue.
Iulia I loose, and Valentine I loose,
If I keepe them, I needs must loose my selfe:
If I loose them, thus finde I by their losse,
For Valentine, my selfe: for Iulia, Siluia.
I to my selfe am deerer then a friend,
For Loue is still most precious in it selfe,
And Siluia (witnesse heauen that made her faire)
Shewes Iulia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Iulia is aliue,
Remembring that my Loue to her is dead.
And Valentine Ile hold an Enemie,
Ayming at Siluia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now proue constant to my selfe,
Without some treachery vs'd to Valentine.
This night he meaneth with a Corded-ladder
To climbe celestiall Siluia's chamber window,
My selfe in counsaile his competitor.
Now presently Ile giue her father notice
Of their disguising and pretended flight:
Who (all inrag'd) will banish Valentine:
For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter,
But Valentine being gon, Ile quickely crosse
By some slie tricke, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Loue lend me wings, to make my purpose swift
As thou hast lent me wit, to plot this drift.
Scoena septima.
Enter Iulia and Lucetta.
  Iul. Counsaile, Lucetta, gentle girle assist me,
And eu'n in kinde loue, I doe coniure thee,
Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly Character'd, and engrau'd,
To lesson me, and tell me some good meane
How with my honour I may vndertake
A iourney to my louing Protheus
   Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long
   Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not weary
To measure Kingdomes with his feeble steps,
Much lesse shall she that hath Loues wings to flie,
And when the flight is made to one so deere,
Of such diuine perfection as Sir Protheus
   Luc. Better forbeare, till Protheus make returne
   Iul. Oh, know'st y not, his looks are my soules food?
Pitty the dearth that I haue pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of Loue,
Thou wouldst as soone goe kindle fire with snow
As seeke to quench the fire of Loue with words
   Luc. I doe not seeke to quench your Loues hot fire,
But qualifie the fires extreame rage,
Lest it should burne aboue the bounds of reason
   Iul. The more thou dam'st it vp, the more it burnes:
The Current that with gentle murmure glides
(Thou know'st) being stop'd, impatiently doth rage:
But when his faire course is not hindered,
He makes sweet musicke with th' enameld stones,
Giuing a gentle kisse to euery sedge
He ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage.
And so by many winding nookes he straies
With willing sport to the wilde Ocean.
Then let me goe, and hinder not my course:
Ile be as patient as a gentle streame,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step haue brought me to my Loue,
And there Ile rest, as after much turmoile
A blessed soule doth in Elizium
   Luc. But in what habit will you goe along?
  Iul. Not like a woman, for I would preuent
The loose encounters of lasciuious men:
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weedes
As may beseeme some well reputed Page
   Luc. Why then your Ladiship must cut your haire
   Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in silken strings,
With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots:
To be fantastique, may become a youth
Of greater time then I shall shew to be
   Luc. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches?
  Iul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)
What compasse will you weare your Farthingale?
Why eu'n what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.)
  Luc. You must needs haue the[m] with a cod-peece Ma[dam]
  Iul. Out, out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd
   Luc. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin
Vnlesse you haue a cod-peece to stick pins on
   Iul. Lucetta, as thou lou'st me let me haue
What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly.
But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me
For vndertaking so vnstaid a iourney?
I feare me it will make me scandaliz'd
   Luc. If you thinke so, then stay at home, and go not
   Iul. Nay, that I will not
   Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go:
If Protheus like your iourney, when you come,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone:
I feare me he will scarce be pleas'd with all
   Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare:
A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares,
And instances of infinite of Loue,
Warrant me welcome to my Protheus
   Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men
   Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect;
But truer starres did gouerne Protheus birth,
His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles,
His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His teares, pure messengers, sent from his heart,
His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth
   Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him
   Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong,
To beare a hard opinion of his truth:
Onely deserue my loue, by louing him,
And presently goe with me to my chamber
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me vpon my longing iourney:
All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose,
My goods, my Lands, my reputation,
Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence:
Come; answere not: but to it presently,
I am impatient of my tarriance.
Actus Tertius, Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus, Valentine, Launce, Speed.
  Duke. Sir Thurio, giue vs leaue (I pray) a while,
We haue some secrets to confer about.
Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me?
  Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I wold discouer,
The Law of friendship bids me to conceale,
But when I call to minde your gracious fauours
Done to me (vndeseruing as I am)
My dutie pricks me on to vtter that
Which else, no worldly good should draw from me:
Know (worthy Prince) Sir Valentine my friend
This night intends to steale away your daughter:
My selfe am one made priuy to the plot.
I know you haue determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates,
And should she thus be stolne away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus (for my duties sake) I rather chose
To crosse my friend in his intended drift,
Then (by concealing it) heap on your head
A pack of sorrowes, which would presse you downe
(Being vnpreuented) to your timelesse graue
   Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care,
Which to requite, command me while I liue.
This loue of theirs, my selfe haue often seene,
Haply when they haue iudg'd me fast asleepe,
And oftentimes haue purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her companie, and my Court.
But fearing lest my iealous ayme might erre,
And so (vnworthily) disgrace the man
(A rashnesse that I euer yet haue shun'd)
I gaue him gentle lookes, thereby to finde
That which thy selfe hast now disclos'd to me.
And that thou maist perceiue my feare of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soone suggested,
I nightly lodge her in an vpper Towre,
The key whereof, my selfe haue euer kept:
And thence she cannot be conuay'd away
   Pro. Know (noble Lord) they haue deuis'd a meane
How he her chamber-window will ascend,
And with a Corded-ladder fetch her downe:
For which, the youthfull Louer now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently.
Where (if it please you) you may intercept him.
But (good my Lord) doe it so cunningly
That my discouery be not aimed at:
For, loue of you, not hate vnto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence
   Duke. Vpon mine Honor, he shall neuer know
That I had any light from thee of this
   Pro. Adiew, my Lord, Sir Valentine is comming
   Duk. Sir Valentine, whether away so fast?
  Val. Please it your Grace, there is a Messenger
That stayes to beare my Letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliuer them
   Duk. Be they of much import?
  Val. The tenure of them doth but signifie
My health, and happy being at your Court
   Duk. Nay then no matter: stay with me a while,
I am to breake with thee of some affaires
That touch me neere: wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not vnknown to thee, that I haue sought
To match my friend Sir Thurio, to my daughter
   Val. I know it well (my Lord) and sure the Match
Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman
Is full of Vertue, Bounty, Worth, and Qualities
Beseeming such a Wife, as your faire daughter:
Cannot your Grace win her to fancie him?
  Duk. No, trust me, She is peeuish, sullen, froward,
Prowd, disobedient, stubborne, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that she is my childe,
Nor fearing me, as if I were her father:
And may I say to thee, this pride of hers
(Vpon aduice) hath drawne my loue from her,
And where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should haue beene cherish'd by her child-like dutie,
I now am full resolu'd to take a wife,
And turne her out, to who will take her in:
Then let her beauty be her wedding dowre:
For me, and my possessions she esteemes not
   Val. What would your Grace haue me to do in this?
  Duk. There is a Lady in Verona heere
Whom I affect: but she is nice, and coy,
And naught esteemes my aged eloquence.
Now therefore would I haue thee to my Tutor
(For long agone I haue forgot to court,
Besides the fashion of the time is chang'd)
How, and which way I may bestow my selfe
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye
   Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words,
Dumbe Iewels often in their silent kinde
More then quicke words, doe moue a womans minde
   Duk. But she did scorne a present that I sent her,
  Val. A woman somtime scorns what best co[n]tents her.
Send her another: neuer giue her ore,
For scorne at first, makes after-loue the more.
If she doe frowne, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more loue in you.
If she doe chide, 'tis not to haue you gone,
For why, the fooles are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, what euer she doth say,
For, get you gon, she doth not meane away.
Flatter, and praise, commend, extoll their graces:
Though nere so blacke, say they haue Angells faces,
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman
   Duk. But she I meane, is promis'd by her friends
Vnto a youthfull Gentleman of worth,
And kept seuerely from resort of men,
That no man hath accesse by day to her
   Val. Why then I would resort to her by night
   Duk. I, but the doores be lockt, and keyes kept safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night
   Val. What letts but one may enter at her window?
  Duk. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built so sheluing, that one cannot climbe it
Without apparant hazard of his life
   Val. Why then a Ladder quaintly made of Cords
To cast vp, with a paire of anchoring hookes,
Would serue to scale another Hero's towre,
So bold Leander would aduenture it
   Duk. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood
Aduise me, where I may haue such a Ladder
   Val. When would you vse it? pray sir, tell me that
   Duk. This very night; for Loue is like a childe
That longs for euery thing that he can come by
   Val. By seauen a clock, ile get you such a Ladder
   Duk But harke thee: I will goe to her alone,
How shall I best conuey the Ladder thither?
  Val. It will be light (my Lord) that you may beare it
Vnder a cloake, that is of any length
   Duk. A cloake as long as thine will serue the turne?
  Val. I my good Lord
   Duk. Then let me see thy cloake,
Ile get me one of such another length
   Val. Why any cloake will serue the turn (my Lord)
  Duk. How shall I fashion me to weare a cloake?
I pray thee let me feele thy cloake vpon me.
What Letter is this same? what's here? to Siluia?
And heere an Engine fit for my proceeding,
Ile be so bold to breake the seale for once.
My thoughts do harbour with my Siluia nightly,
And slaues they are to me, that send them flying.
Oh, could their Master come, and goe as lightly,
Himselfe would lodge where (senceles) they are lying.
My Herald Thoughts, in thy pure bosome rest-them,
While I (their King) that thither them importune
Doe curse the grace, that with such grace hath blest them,
Because my selfe doe want my seruants fortune.
I curse my selfe, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their Lord should be.
What's here? Siluia, this night I will enfranchise thee.
'Tis so: and heere's the Ladder for the purpose.
Why Phaeton (for thou art Merops sonne)
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heauenly Car?
And with thy daring folly burne the world?
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?
Goe base Intruder, ouer-weening Slaue,
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equall mates,
And thinke my patience, (more then thy desert)
Is priuiledge for thy departure hence.
Thanke me for this, more then for all the fauors
Which (all too-much) I haue bestowed on thee.
But if thou linger in my Territories
Longer then swiftest expedition
Will giue thee time to leaue our royall Court,
By heauen, my wrath shall farre exceed the loue
I euer bore my daughter, or thy selfe.
Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excuse,
But as thou lou'st thy life, make speed from hence
   Val. And why not death, rather then liuing torment?
To die, is to be banisht from my selfe,
And Siluia is my selfe: banish'd from her
Is selfe from selfe. A deadly banishment:
What light, is light, if Siluia be not seene?
What ioy is ioy, if Siluia be not by?
Vnlesse it be to thinke that she is by
And feed vpon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Siluia in the night,
There is no musicke in the Nightingale.
Vnlesse I looke on Siluia in the day,
There is no day for me to looke vpon.
Shee is my essence, and I leaue to be;
If I be not by her faire influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept aliue.
I flie not death, to flie his deadly doome,
Tarry I heere, I but attend on death,
But flie I hence, I flie away from life
   Pro. Run (boy) run, run, and seeke him out
   Lau. So-hough, Soa hough-
  Pro. What seest thou?
  Lau. Him we goe to finde,
There's not a haire on's head, but 'tis a Valentine
   Pro. Valentine?
   Pro. Who then? his Spirit?
  Val. Neither,
  Pro. What then?
  Val. Nothing
   Lau. Can nothing speake? Master, shall I strike?
  Pro. Who wouldst thou strike?
  Lau. Nothing
   Pro. Villaine, forbeare
   Lau. Why Sir, Ile strike nothing: I pray you
   Pro. Sirha, I say forbeare: friend Valentine, a word
   Val. My eares are stopt, & cannot hear good newes,
So much of bad already hath possest them
   Pro. Then in dumbe silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, vn-tuneable, and bad
   Val. Is Siluia dead?
  Pro. No, Valentine
   Val. No Valentine indeed, for sacred Siluia,
Hath she forsworne me?
  Pro. No, Valentine
   Val. No Valentine, if Siluia haue forsworne me.
What is your newes?
  Lau. Sir, there is a proclamation, y you are vanished
   Pro. That thou art banish'd: oh that's the newes,
From hence, from Siluia, and from me thy friend
   Val. Oh, I haue fed vpon this woe already,
And now excesse of it will make me surfet.
Doth Siluia know that I am banish'd?
  Pro. I, I: and she hath offered to the doome
(Which vn-reuerst stands in effectuall force)
A Sea of melting pearle, which some call teares;
Those at her fathers churlish feete she tenderd,
With them vpon her knees, her humble selfe,
Wringing her hands, whose whitenes so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held vp,
Sad sighes, deepe grones, nor siluer-shedding teares
Could penetrate her vncompassionate Sire;
But Valentine, if he be tane, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so,
When she for thy repeale was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of biding there
   Val. No more: vnles the next word that thou speak'st
Haue some malignant power vpon my life:
If so: I pray thee breath it in mine eare,
As ending Antheme of my endlesse dolor
   Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not helpe,
And study helpe for that which thou lament'st,
Time is the Nurse, and breeder of all good;
Here, if thou stay, thou canst not see thy loue:
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life:
Hope is a louers staffe, walke hence with that
And manage it, against despairing thoughts:
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliuer'd
Euen in the milke-white bosome of thy Loue.
The time now serues not to expostulate,
Come, Ile conuey thee through the City-gate.
And ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concerne thy Loue-affaires:
As thou lou'st Siluia (though not for thy selfe)
Regard thy danger, and along with me
   Val. I pray thee Launce, and if thou seest my Boy
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North-gate
   Pro. Goe sirha, finde him out: Come Valentine
   Val. Oh my deere Siluia; haplesse Valentine
   Launce. I am but a foole, looke you, and yet I haue
the wit to thinke my Master is a kinde of a knaue: but
that's all one, if he be but one knaue: He liues not now
that knowes me to be in loue, yet I am in loue, but a
Teeme of horse shall not plucke that from me: nor who
'tis I loue: and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I
will not tell my selfe: and yet 'tis a Milke-maid: yet 'tis
not a maid: for shee hath had Gossips: yet 'tis a maid,
for she is her Masters maid, and serues for wages. Shee
hath more qualities then a Water-Spaniell, which is
much in a bare Christian: Heere is the Catelog of her
Condition. Inprimis. Shee can fetch and carry: why
a horse can doe no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but
onely carry, therefore is shee better then a Iade. Item.
She can milke, looke you, a sweet vertue in a maid with
cleane hands
   Speed. How now Signior Launce? what newes with
your Mastership?
  La. With my Mastership? why, it is at Sea:
  Sp. Well, your old vice still: mistake the word: what
newes then in your paper?
  La. The black'st newes that euer thou heard'st
   Sp. Why man? how blacke?
  La. Why, as blacke as Inke
   Sp. Let me read them?
  La. Fie on thee Iolt-head, thou canst not read
   Sp. Thou lyest: I can
   La. I will try thee: tell me this: who begot thee?
  Sp. Marry, the son of my Grand-father
   La. Oh illiterate loyterer; it was the sonne of thy
Grand-mother: this proues that thou canst not read
   Sp. Come foole, come: try me in thy paper
   La. There: and S[aint]. Nicholas be thy speed
   Sp. Inprimis she can milke
   La. I that she can
   Sp. Item, she brewes good Ale
   La. And thereof comes the prouerbe: (Blessing of
your heart, you brew good Ale.)
  Sp. Item, she can sowe
   La. That's as much as to say (Can she so?)
  Sp. Item she can knit
   La. What neede a man care for a stock with a wench,
When she can knit him a stocke?
  Sp. Item, she can wash and scoure
   La. A speciall vertue: for then shee neede not be
wash'd, and scowr'd
   Sp. Item, she can spin
   La. Then may I set the world on wheeles, when she
can spin for her liuing
   Sp. Item, she hath many namelesse vertues
   La. That's as much as to say Bastard-vertues: that
indeede know not their fathers; and therefore haue no
   Sp. Here follow her vices
   La. Close at the heeles of her vertues
   Sp. Item, shee is not to be fasting in respect of her
   La. Well: that fault may be mended with a breakfast:
   Sp. Item, she hath a sweet mouth
   La. That makes amends for her soure breath
   Sp. Item, she doth talke in her sleepe
   La. It's no matter for that; so shee sleepe not in her
   Sp. Item, she is slow in words
   La. Oh villaine, that set this downe among her vices;
To be slow in words, is a womans onely vertue:
I pray thee out with't, and place it for her chiefe vertue
   Sp. Item, she is proud
   La. Out with that too:
It was Eues legacie, and cannot be t'ane from her
   Sp. Item, she hath no teeth
   La. I care not for that neither: because I loue crusts
   Sp. Item, she is curst
   La. Well: the best is, she hath no teeth to bite
   Sp. Item, she will often praise her liquor
   La. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not,
I will; for good things should be praised
   Sp. Item, she is too liberall
   La. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ downe
she is slow of: of her purse, shee shall not, for that ile
keepe shut: Now, of another thing shee may, and that
cannot I helpe. Well, proceede
   Sp. Item, shee hath more haire then wit, and more
faults then haires, and more wealth then faults
   La. Stop there: Ile haue her: she was mine, and not
mine, twice or thrice in that last Article: rehearse that
   Sp. Item, she hath more haire then wit
   La. More haire then wit: it may be ile proue it: The
couer of the salt, hides the salt, and therefore it is more
then the salt; the haire that couers the wit, is more
then the wit; for the greater hides the lesse: What's
  Sp. And more faults then haires
   La. That's monstrous: oh that that were out
   Sp. And more wealth then faults
   La. Why that word makes the faults gracious:
Well, ile haue her: and if it be a match, as nothing is
   Sp. What then?
  La. Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Master staies
for thee at the North gate
   Sp. For me?
  La. For thee? I, who art thou? he hath staid for a better
man then thee
   Sp. And must I goe to him?
  La. Thou must run to him; for thou hast staid so long,
that going will scarce serue the turne
   Sp. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your loue
   La. Now will he be swing'd for reading my Letter;
An vnmannerly slaue, that will thrust himselfe into secrets:
Ile after, to reioyce in the boyes correctio[n].
Scena Secunda.
Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus.
  Du. Sir Thurio, feare not, but that she will loue you
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight
   Th. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most,
Forsworne my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her
   Du. This weake impresse of Loue, is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an houres heate
Dissolues to water, and doth loose his forme.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthlesse Valentine shall be forgot.
How now sir Protheus, is your countriman
(According to our Proclamation) gon?
  Pro. Gon, my good Lord
   Du. My daughter takes his going grieuously?
  Pro. A little time (my Lord) will kill that griefe
   Du. So I beleeue: but Thurio thinkes not so:
Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee,
(For thou hast showne some signe of good desert)
Makes me the better to confer with thee
   Pro. Longer then I proue loyall to your Grace,
Let me not liue, to looke vpon your Grace
   Du. Thou know'st how willingly, I would effect
The match betweene sir Thurio, and my daughter?
  Pro. I doe my Lord
   Du. And also, I thinke, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will?
  Pro. She did my Lord, when Valentine was here
   Du. I, and peruersly, she perseuers so:
What might we doe to make the girle forget
The loue of Valentine, and loue sir Thurio?
  Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine,
With falsehood, cowardize, and poore discent:
Three things, that women highly hold in hate
   Du. I, but she'll thinke, that it is spoke in hate
   Pro. I, if his enemy deliuer it.
Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend
   Du. Then you must vndertake to slander him
   Pro. And that (my Lord) I shall be loath to doe:
'Tis an ill office for a Gentleman,
Especially against his very friend
   Du. Where your good word cannot aduantage him,
Your slander neuer can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being intreated to it by your friend
   Pro. You haue preuail'd (my Lord) if I can doe it
By ought that I can speake in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue loue to him:
But say this weede her loue from Valentine,
It followes not that she will loue sir Thurio
   Th. Therefore, as you vnwinde her loue from him;
Least it should rauell, and be good to none,
You must prouide to bottome it on me:
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you, in worth dispraise, sir Valentine
   Du. And Protheus, we dare trust you in this kinde,
Because we know (on Valentines report)
You are already loues firme votary,
And cannot soone reuolt, and change your minde.
Vpon this warrant, shall you haue accesse,
Where you, with Siluia, may conferre at large.
For she is lumpish, heauy, mellancholly,
And (for your friends sake) will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your perswasion,
To hate yong Valentine, and loue my friend
   Pro. As much as I can doe, I will effect:
But you sir Thurio, are not sharpe enough:
You must lay Lime, to tangle her desires
By walefull Sonnets, whose composed Rimes
Should be full fraught with seruiceable vowes
   Du. I, much is the force of heauen-bred Poesie
   Pro. Say that vpon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your teares, your sighes, your heart:
Write till your inke be dry: and with your teares
Moist it againe: and frame some feeling line,
That may discouer such integrity:
For Orpheus Lute, was strung with Poets sinewes,
Whose golden touch could soften steele and stones;
Make Tygers tame, and huge Leuiathans
Forsake vnsounded deepes, to dance on Sands.
After your dire-lamenting Elegies,
Visit by night your Ladies chamber-window
With some sweet Consort; To their Instruments
Tune a deploring dumpe: the nights dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grieuance:
This, or else nothing, will inherit her
   Du. This discipline, showes thou hast bin in loue
   Th. And thy aduice, this night, ile put in practise:
Therefore, sweet Protheus, my direction-giuer,
Let vs into the City presently
To sort some Gentlemen, well skil'd in Musicke.
I haue a Sonnet, that will serue the turne
To giue the on-set to thy good aduise
   Du. About it Gentlemen
   Pro. We'll wait vpon your Grace, till after Supper,
And afterward determine our proceedings
   Du. Euen now about it, I will pardon you.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-lawes.
  1.Outl. Fellowes, stand fast: I see a passenger
   2.Out. If there be ten, shrinke not, but down with 'em
   3.Out. Stand sir, and throw vs that you haue about 'ye.
If not: we'll make you sit, and rifle you
   Sp. Sir we are vndone; these are the Villaines
That all the Trauailers doe feare so much
   Val. My friends
   1.Out. That's not so, sir: we are your enemies
   2.Out. Peace: we'll heare him
   3.Out. I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man
   Val. Then know that I haue little wealth to loose;
A man I am, cross'd with aduersitie:
My riches, are these poore habiliments,
Of which, if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I haue
   2.Out. Whether trauell you?
  Val. To Verona
   1.Out. Whence came you?
  Val. From Millaine
   3.Out. Haue you long soiourn'd there?
  Val. Some sixteene moneths, and longer might haue staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me
   1.Out. What, were you banish'd thence?
  Val. I was
   2.Out. For what offence?
  Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse;
I kil'd a man, whose death I much repent,
But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery
   1.Out. Why nere repent it, if it were done so;
But were you banisht for so small a fault?
  Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doome
   2.Out. Haue you the Tongues?
  Val. My youthfull trauaile, therein made me happy,
Or else I often had beene often miserable
   3.Out. By the bare scalpe of Robin Hoods fat Fryer,
This fellow were a King, for our wilde faction
   1.Out. We'll haue him: Sirs, a word
   Sp. Master, be one of them:
It's an honourable kinde of theeuery
   Val. Peace villaine
   2.Out. Tell vs this: haue you any thing to take to?
  Val. Nothing but my fortune
   3.Out. Know then, that some of vs are Gentlemen,
Such as the fury of vngouern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awfull men.
My selfe was from Verona banished,
For practising to steale away a Lady,
And heire and Neece, alide vnto the Duke
   2.Out. And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman,
Who, in my moode, I stab'd vnto the heart
   1.Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these.
But to the purpose: for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawlesse liues;
And partly seeing you are beautifide
With goodly shape; and by your owne report,
A Linguist, and a man of such perfection,
As we doe in our quality much want
   2.Out. Indeede because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, aboue the rest, we parley to you:
Are you content to be our Generall?
To make a vertue of necessity,
And liue as we doe in this wildernesse?
  3.Out. What saist thou? wilt thou be of our consort?
Say I, and be the captaine of vs all:
We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Loue thee, as our Commander, and our King
   1.Out. But if thou scorne our curtesie, thou dyest
   2.Out. Thou shalt not liue, to brag what we haue offer'd
   Val. I take your offer, and will liue with you,
Prouided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poore passengers
   3.Out. No, we detest such vile base practises.
Come, goe with vs, we'll bring thee to our Crewes,
And show thee all the Treasure we haue got;
Which, with our selues, all rest at thy dispose.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Host, Musitian, Siluia.
  Pro. Already haue I bin false to Valentine,
And now I must be as vniust to Thurio,
Vnder the colour of commending him,
I haue accesse my owne loue to prefer.
But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthlesse guifts;
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend;
When to her beauty I commend my vowes,
She bids me thinke how I haue bin forsworne
In breaking faith with Iulia, whom I lou'd;
And notwithstanding all her sodaine quips,
The least whereof would quell a louers hope:
Yet (Spaniel-like) the more she spurnes my loue,
The more it growes, and fawneth on her still;
But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window,
And giue some euening Musique to her eare
   Th. How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before vs?
  Pro. I gentle Thurio, for you know that loue
Will creepe in seruice, where it cannot goe
   Th. I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here
   Pro. Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence
   Th. Who, Siluia?
  Pro. I, Siluia, for your sake
   Th. I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen
Let's tune: and too it lustily a while
   Ho. Now, my yong guest; me thinks your' allycholly;
I pray you why is it?
  Iu. Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry
   Ho. Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where
you shall heare Musique, and see the Gentleman that
you ask'd for
   Iu. But shall I heare him speake
   Ho. I that you shall
   Iu. That will be Musique
   Ho. Harke, harke
   Iu. Is he among these?
  Ho. I: but peace, let's heare'm
   Song. Who is Siluia? what is she?
That all our Swaines commend her?
Holy, faire, and wise is she,
The heauen such grace did lend her,
that she might admired be.
Is she kinde as she is faire?
For beauty liues with kindnesse:
Loue doth to her eyes repaire,
To helpe him of his blindnesse:
And being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Siluia, let vs sing,
That Siluia is excelling;
She excels each mortall thing
Vpon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let vs Garlands bring
   Ho. How now? are you sadder then you were before;
How doe you, man? the Musicke likes you not
   Iu. You mistake: the Musitian likes me not
   Ho. Why, my pretty youth?
  Iu. He plaies false (father.)
  Ho. How, out of tune on the strings
   Iu. Not so: but yet
So false that he grieues my very heart-strings
   Ho. You haue a quicke eare
   Iu. I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow heart
   Ho. I perceiue you delight not in Musique
   Iu. Not a whit, when it iars so
   Ho. Harke, what fine change is in the Musique
   Iu. I: that change is the spight
   Ho. You would haue them alwaies play but one thing
   Iu. I would alwaies haue one play but one thing.
But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on,
Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman?
  Ho. I tell you what Launce his man told me,
He lou'd her out of all nicke
   Iu. Where is Launce?
  Ho. Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his
Masters command, hee must carry for a present to his
   Iu. Peace, stand aside, the company parts
   Pro. Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels
   Th. Where meete we?
  Pro. At Saint Gregories well
   Th. Farewell
   Pro. Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship
   Sil. I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen)
Who is that that spake?
  Pro. One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth,
You would quickly learne to know him by his voice
   Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it
   Pro. Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant
   Sil. What's your will?
  Pro. That I may compasse yours
   Sil. You haue your wish: my will is euen this,
That presently you hie you home to bed:
Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man:
Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes?
Returne, returne, and make thy loue amends:
For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare)
I am so farre from granting thy request,
That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite;
And by and by intend to chide my selfe,
Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee
   Pro. I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady,
But she is dead
   Iu. 'Twere false, if I should speake it;
For I am sure she is not buried
   Sil. Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend
Suruiues; to whom (thy selfe art witnesse)
I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd
To wrong him, with thy importunacy?
  Pro. I likewise heare that Valentine is dead
   Sil. And so suppose am I; for in her graue
Assure thy selfe, my loue is buried
   Pro. Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth
   Sil. Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence,
Or at the least, in hers, sepulcher thine
   Iul. He heard not that
   Pro. Madam: if your heart be so obdurate:
Vouchsafe me yet your Picture for my loue,
The Picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that ile speake, to that ile sigh and weepe:
For since the substance of your perfect selfe
Is else deuoted, I am but a shadow;
And to your shadow, will I make true loue
   Iul. If 'twere a substance you would sure deceiue it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am
   Sil. I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadowes, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and ile send it:
And so, good rest
   Pro. As wretches haue ore-night
That wait for execution in the morne
   Iul. Host, will you goe?
  Ho. By my hallidome, I was fast asleepe
   Iul. Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus?
  Ho. Marry, at my house:
Trust me, I thinke 'tis almost day
   Iul. Not so: but it hath bin the longest night
That ere I watch'd, and the most heauiest.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Eglamore, Siluia.
  Eg. This is the houre that Madam Siluia
Entreated me to call, and know her minde:
Ther's some great matter she'ld employ me in.
Madam, Madam
   Sil. Who cals?
  Eg. Your seruant, and your friend;
One that attends your Ladiships command
   Sil. Sir Eglamore, a thousand times good morrow
   Eg. As many (worthy Lady) to your selfe:
According to your Ladiships impose,
I am thus early come, to know what seruice
It is your pleasure to command me in
   Sil. Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman:
Thinke not I flatter (for I sweare I doe not)
Valiant, wise, remorse-full, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant what deere good will
I beare vnto the banish'd Valentine:
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vaine Thurio (whom my very soule abhor'd.)
Thy selfe hast lou'd, and I haue heard thee say
No griefe did euer come so neere thy heart,
As when thy Lady, and thy true-loue dide,
Vpon whose Graue thou vow'dst pure chastitie:
Sir Eglamoure: I would to Valentine
To Mantua, where I heare, he makes aboad;
And for the waies are dangerous to passe,
I doe desire thy worthy company,
Vpon whose faith and honor, I repose.
Vrge not my fathers anger (Eglamoure)
But thinke vpon my griefe (a Ladies griefe)
And on the iustice of my flying hence,
To keepe me from a most vnholy match,
Which heauen and fortune still rewards with plagues.
I doe desire thee, euen from a heart
As full of sorrowes, as the Sea of sands,
To beare me company, and goe with me:
If not, to hide what I haue said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone
   Egl. Madam, I pitty much your grieuances,
Which, since I know they vertuously are plac'd,
I giue consent to goe along with you,
Wreaking as little what betideth me,
As much, I wish all good befortune you.
When will you goe?
  Sil. This euening comming
   Eg. Where shall I meete you?
  Sil. At Frier Patrickes Cell,
Where I intend holy Confession
   Eg. I will not faile your Ladiship:
Good morrow (gentle Lady.)
  Sil. Good morrow, kinde Sir Eglamoure.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia.
  Lau. When a mans seruant shall play the Curre with
him (looke you) it goes hard: one that I brought vp of
a puppy: one that I sau'd from drowning, when three or
foure of his blinde brothers and sisters went to it: I haue
taught him (euen as one would say precisely, thus I
would teach a dog) I was sent to deliuer him, as a present
to Mistris Siluia, from my Master; and I came no
sooner into the dyning-chamber, but he steps me to her
Trencher, and steales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foule
thing, when a Cur cannot keepe himselfe in all companies:
I would haue (as one should say) one that takes vpon
him to be a dog indeede, to be, as it were, a dog at all
things. If I had not had more wit then he, to take a fault
vpon me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'd
for't: sure as I liue he had suffer'd for't: you shall iudge:
Hee thrusts me himselfe into the company of three or
foure gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: hee
had not bin there (blesse the marke) a pissing while, but
all the chamber smelt him: out with the dog (saies one)
what cur is that (saies another) whip him out (saies the
third) hang him vp (saies the Duke.) I hauing bin acquainted
with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and
goes me to the fellow that whips the dogges: friend
(quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry doe I
(quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twas
I did the thing you wot of: he makes me no more adoe,
but whips me out of the chamber: how many Masters
would doe this for his Seruant? nay, ile be sworne I haue
sat in the stockes, for puddings he hath stolne, otherwise
he had bin executed: I haue stood on the Pillorie for
Geese he hath kil'd, otherwise he had sufferd for't: thou
think'st not of this now: nay, I remember the tricke you
seru'd me, when I tooke my leaue of Madam Siluia: did
not I bid thee still marke me, and doe as I do; when did'st
thou see me heaue vp my leg, and make water against a
Gentlewomans farthingale? did'st thou euer see me doe
such a tricke?
  Pro. Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well,
And will imploy thee in some seruice presently
   Iu. In what you please, ile doe what I can
   Pro. I hope thou wilt.
How now you whorson pezant,
Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering?
  La. Marry Sir, I carried Mistris Siluia the dogge you
   Pro. And what saies she to my little Iewell?
  La. Marry she saies your dog was a cur, and tels you
currish thanks is good enough for such a present
   Pro. But she receiu'd my dog?
  La. No indeede did she not:
Here haue I brought him backe againe
   Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me?
  La. I Sir, the other Squirrill was stolne from me
By the Hangmans boyes in the market place,
And then I offer'd her mine owne, who is a dog
As big as ten of yours, & therefore the guift the greater
   Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe,
Or nere returne againe into my sight.
Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here;
A Slaue, that still an end, turnes me to shame:
Sebastian, I haue entertained thee,
Partly that I haue neede of such a youth,
That can with some discretion doe my businesse:
For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt;
But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour,
Which (if my Augury deceiue me not)
Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth:
Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee.
Go presently, and take this Ring with thee,
Deliuer it to Madam Siluia;
She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me
   Iul. It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token:
She is dead belike?
  Pro. Not so: I thinke she liues
   Iul. Alas
   Pro. Why do'st thou cry alas?
  Iul. I cannot choose but pitty her
   Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pitty her?
  Iul. Because, me thinkes that she lou'd you as well
As you doe loue your Lady Siluia:
She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue,
You doate on her, that cares not for your loue.
'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary:
And thinking on it, makes me cry alas
   Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall
This Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady,
I claime the promise for her heauenly Picture:
Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber,
Where thou shalt finde me sad, and solitarie
   Iul. How many women would doe such a message?
Alas poore Protheus, thou hast entertain'd
A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs;
Alas, poore foole, why doe I pitty him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loues her, he despiseth me,
Because I loue him, I must pitty him.
This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me,
To binde him to remember my good will:
And now am I (vnhappy Messenger)
To plead for that, which I would not obtaine;
To carry that, which I would haue refus'd;
To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd.
I am my Masters true confirmed Loue,
But cannot be true seruant to my Master,
Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe.
Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly,
As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed.
Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane
To bring me where to speake with Madam Siluia
   Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she?
  Iul. If you be she, I doe intreat your patience
To heare me speake the message I am sent on
   Sil. From whom?
  Iul. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam
   Sil. Oh: he sends you for a Picture?
  Iul. I, Madam
   Sil. Vrsula, bring my Picture there,
Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me,
One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forget
Would better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow
   Iul. Madam, please you peruse this Letter;
Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'd
Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not;
This is the Letter to your Ladiship
   Sil. I pray thee let me looke on that againe
   Iul. It may not be: good Madam pardon me
   Sil. There, hold:
I will not looke vpon your Masters lines:
I know they are stuft with protestations,
And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake
As easily, as I doe teare his paper
   Iul. Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring
   Sil. The more shame for him, that he sends it me;
For I haue heard him say a thousand times,
His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure:
Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring,
Mine shall not doe his Iulia so much wrong
   Iul. She thankes you
   Sil. What sai'st thou?
  Iul. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her:
Poore Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much
   Sil. Do'st thou know her?
  Iul. Almost as well as I doe know my selfe.
To thinke vpon her woes, I doe protest
That I haue wept a hundred seuerall times
   Sil. Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her?
  Iul. I thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow
   Sil. Is she not passing faire?
  Iul. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is,
When she did thinke my Master lou'd her well;
She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you.
But since she did neglect her looking-glasse,
And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away,
The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes,
And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as blacke as I
   Sil. How tall was she?
  Iul. About my stature: for at Pentecost,
When all our Pageants of delight were plaid,
Our youth got me to play the womans part,
And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne,
Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements,
As if the garment had bin made for me:
Therefore I know she is about my height,
And at that time I made her weepe a good,
For I did play a lamentable part.
(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Thesus periury, and vniust flight;
Which I so liuely acted with my teares:
That my poore Mistris moued therewithall,
Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow
   Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth)
Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left;
I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words:
Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee this
For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her. Farewell
   Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her.
A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull.
I hope my Masters suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my Mistris loue so much.
Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe:
Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinke
If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine
Were full as louely, as is this of hers;
And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little,
Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much.
Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow;
If that be all the difference in his loue,
Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig:
Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine.
I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high:
What should it be that he respects in her,
But I can make respectiue in my selfe?
If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god.
Come shadow, come, and take this shadow vp,
For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme,
Thou shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd;
And were there sence in his Idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
Ile vse thee kindly, for thy Mistris sake
That vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow,
I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes,
To make my Master out of loue with thee.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Eglamoure, Siluia.
  Egl. The Sun begins to guild the westerne skie,
And now it is about the very houre
That Siluia, at Fryer Patricks Cell should meet me,
She will not faile; for Louers breake not houres,
Vnlesse it be to come before their time,
So much they spur their expedition.
See where she comes: Lady a happy euening
   Sil. Amen, Amen: goe on (good Eglamoure)
Out at the Posterne by the Abbey wall;
I feare I am attended by some Spies
   Egl. Feare not: the Forrest is not three leagues off,
If we recouer that, we are sure enough.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Thurio, Protheus, Iulia, Duke.
  Th. Sir Protheus, what saies Siluia to my suit?
  Pro. Oh Sir, I finde her milder then she was,
And yet she takes exceptions at your person
   Thu. What? that my leg is too long?
  Pro. No, that it is too little
   Thu. Ile weare a Boote, to make it somewhat rounder
   Pro. But loue will not be spurd to what it loathes
   Thu. What saies she to my face?
  Pro. She saies it is a faire one
   Thu. Nay then the wanton lyes: my face is blacke
   Pro. But Pearles are faire; and the old saying is,
Blacke men are Pearles, in beauteous Ladies eyes
   Thu. 'Tis true, such Pearles as put out Ladies eyes,
For I had rather winke, then looke on them
   Thu. How likes she my discourse?
  Pro. Ill, when you talke of war
   Thu. But well, when I discourse of loue and peace
   Iul. But better indeede, when you hold you peace
   Thu. What sayes she to my valour?
  Pro. Oh Sir, she makes no doubt of that
   Iul. She needes not, when she knowes it cowardize
   Thu. What saies she to my birth?
  Pro. That you are well deriu'd
   Iul. True: from a Gentleman, to a foole
   Thu. Considers she my Possessions?
  Pro. Oh, I: and pitties them
   Thu. Wherefore?
  Iul. That such an Asse should owe them
   Pro. That they are out by Lease
   Iul. Here comes the Duke
   Du. How now sir Protheus; how now Thurio?
Which of you saw Eglamoure of late?
  Thu. Not I
   Pro. Nor I
   Du. Saw you my daughter?
  Pro. Neither
   Du. Why then
She's fled vnto that pezant, Valentine;
And Eglamoure is in her Company:
'Tis true: for Frier Laurence met them both
As he, in pennance wander'd through the Forrest:
Him he knew well: and guesd that it was she,
But being mask'd, he was not sure of it.
Besides she did intend Confession
At Patricks Cell this euen, and there she was not.
These likelihoods confirme her flight from hence;
Therefore I pray you stand, not to discourse,
But mount you presently, and meete with me
Vpon the rising of the Mountaine foote
That leads toward Mantua, whether they are fled:
Dispatch (sweet Gentlemen) and follow me
   Thu. Why this it is, to be a peeuish Girle,
That flies her fortune when it followes her:
Ile after; more to be reueng'd on Eglamoure,
Then for the loue of reck-lesse Siluia
   Pro. And I will follow, more for Siluias loue
Then hate of Eglamoure that goes with her
   Iul. And I will follow, more to crosse that loue
Then hate for Siluia, that is gone for loue.
Scena Tertia.
Siluia, Outlawes.
  1.Out. Come, come be patient:
We must bring you to our Captaine
   Sil. A thousand more mischances then this one
Haue learn'd me how to brooke this patiently
   2 Out. Come, bring her away
   1 Out. Where is the Gentleman that was with her?
  3 Out. Being nimble footed, he hath out-run vs.
But Moyses and Valerius follow him:
Goe thou with her to the West end of the wood,
There is our Captaine: Wee'll follow him that's fled,
The Thicket is beset, he cannot scape
   1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captains caue.
Feare not: he beares an honourable minde,
And will not vse a woman lawlesly
   Sil. O Valentine: this I endure for thee.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, Protheus, Siluia, Iulia, Duke, Thurio, Outlawes.
  Val. How vse doth breed a habit in a man?
This shadowy desart, vnfrequented woods
I better brooke then flourishing peopled Townes:
Here can I sit alone, vn-seene of any,
And to the Nightingales complaining Notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my brest,
Leaue not the Mansion so long Tenant-lesse,
Lest growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leaue no memory of what it was,
Repaire me, with thy presence, Siluia:
Thou gentle Nimph, cherish thy forlorne swaine.
What hallowing, and what stir is this to day?
These are my mates, that make their wills their Law,
Haue some vnhappy passenger in chace;
They loue me well: yet I haue much to doe
To keepe them from vnciuill outrages.
Withdraw thee Valentine: who's this comes heere?
  Pro. Madam, this seruice I haue done for you
(Though you respect not aught your seruant doth)
To hazard life, and reskew you from him,
That would haue forc'd your honour, and your loue,
Vouchsafe me for my meed, but one faire looke:
(A smaller boone then this I cannot beg,
And lesse then this, I am sure you cannot giue.)
  Val. How like a dreame is this? I see, and heare:
Loue, lend me patience to forbeare a while
   Sil. O miserable, vnhappy that I am
   Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came:
But by my comming, I haue made you happy
   Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most vnhappy
   Iul. And me, when he approcheth to your presence
   Sil. Had I beene ceazed by a hungry Lion,
I would haue beene a breakfast to the Beast,
Rather then haue false Protheus reskue me:
Oh heauen be iudge how I loue Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soule,
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I doe detest false periur'd Protheus:
Therefore be gone, sollicit me no more
   Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death
Would I not vndergoe, for one calme looke:
Oh 'tis the curse in Loue, and still approu'd
When women cannot loue, where they're belou'd
   Sil. When Protheus cannot loue, where he's belou'd:
Read ouer Iulia's heart, (thy first best Loue)
For whose deare sake, thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oathes; and all those oathes,
Descended into periury, to loue me,
Thou hast no faith left now, vnlesse thou'dst two,
And that's farre worse then none: better haue none
Then plurall faith, which is too much by one:
Thou Counterfeyt, to thy true friend
   Pro. In Loue,
Who respects friend?
  Sil. All men but Protheus
   Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of mouing words
Can no way change you to a milder forme;
Ile wooe you like a Souldier, at armes end,
And loue you 'gainst the nature of Loue: force ye
   Sil. Oh heauen
   Pro. Ile force thee yeeld to my desire
   Val. Ruffian: let goe that rude vnciuill touch,
Thou friend of an ill fashion
   Pro. Valentine
   Val. Thou co[m]mon friend, that's without faith or loue,
For such is a friend now: treacherous man,
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye
Could haue perswaded me: now I dare not say
I haue one friend aliue; thou wouldst disproue me:
Who should be trusted, when ones right hand
Is periured to the bosome? Protheus
I am sorry I must neuer trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake:
The priuate wound is deepest: oh time, most accurst.
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst?
  Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me:
Forgiue me Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient Ransome for offence,
I tender't heere: I doe as truely suffer,
As ere I did commit
   Val. Then I am paid:
And once againe, I doe receiue thee honest;
Who by Repentance is not satisfied,
Is nor of heauen, nor earth; for these are pleas'd:
By Penitence th' Eternalls wrath's appeas'd:
And that my loue may appeare plaine and free,
All that was mine, in Siluia, I giue thee
   Iul. Oh me vnhappy
   Pro. Looke to the Boy
   Val. Why, Boy?
Why wag: how now? what's the matter? look vp: speak
   Iul. O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliuer a ring
to Madam Siluia: w (out of my neglect) was neuer done
   Pro. Where is that ring? boy?
  Iul. Heere 'tis: this is it
   Pro. How? let me see.
Why this is the ring I gaue to Iulia
   Iul. Oh, cry you mercy sir, I haue mistooke:
This is the ring you sent to Siluia
   Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart
I gaue this vnto Iulia
   Iul. And Iulia her selfe did giue it me,
And Iulia her selfe hath brought it hither
   Pro. How? Iulia?
  Iul. Behold her, that gaue ayme to all thy oathes,
And entertain'd 'em deepely in her heart.
How oft hast thou with periury cleft the roote?
Oh Protheus, let this habit make thee blush.
Be thou asham'd that I haue tooke vpon me,
Such an immodest rayment; if shame liue
In a disguise of loue?
It is the lesser blot modesty findes,
Women to change their shapes, then men their minds
   Pro. Then men their minds? tis true: oh heuen, were man
But Constant, he were perfect; that one error
Fils him with faults: makes him run through all th' sins;
Inconstancy falls-off, ere it begins:
What is in Siluia's face, but I may spie
More fresh in Iulia's, with a constant eye?
  Val. Come, come: a hand from either:
Let me be blest to make this happy close:
'Twere pitty two such friends should be long foes
   Pro. Beare witnes (heauen) I haue my wish for euer
   Iul. And I mine
   Outl. A prize: a prize: a prize
   Val. Forbeare, forbeare I say: It is my Lord the Duke.
Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Banished Valentine
   Duke. Sir Valentine?
  Thu. Yonder is Siluia: and Siluia's mine
   Val. Thurio giue backe; or else embrace thy death:
Come not within the measure of my wrath:
Doe not name Siluia thine: if once againe,
Verona shall not hold thee: heere she stands,
Take but possession of her, with a Touch:
I dare thee, but to breath vpon my Loue
   Thur. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:
I hold him but a foole that will endanger
His Body, for a Girle that loues him not:
I claime her not, and therefore she is thine
   Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou
To make such meanes for her, as thou hast done,
And leaue her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honor of my Ancestry,
I doe applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And thinke thee worthy of an Empresse loue:
Know then, I heere forget all former greefes,
Cancell all grudge, repeale thee home againe,
Plead a new state in thy vn-riual'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine,
Thou art a Gentleman, and well deriu'd,
Take thou thy Siluia, for thou hast deseru'd her
   Val. I thank your Grace, y gift hath made me happy:
I now beseech you (for your daughters sake)
To grant one Boone that I shall aske of you
   Duke. I grant it (for thine owne) what ere it be
   Val. These banish'd men, that I haue kept withall,
Are men endu'd with worthy qualities:
Forgiue them what they haue committed here,
And let them be recall'd from their Exile:
They are reformed, ciuill, full of good,
And fit for great employment (worthy Lord.)
  Duke. Thou hast preuaild, I pardon them and thee:
Dispose of them, as thou knowst their deserts.
Come, let vs goe, we will include all iarres,
With Triumphes, Mirth, and rare solemnity
   Val. And as we walke along, I dare be bold
With our discourse, to make your Grace to smile.
What thinke you of this Page (my Lord?)
  Duke. I think the Boy hath grace in him, he blushes
   Val. I warrant you (my Lord) more grace, then Boy
   Duke. What meane you by that saying?
  Val. Please you, Ile tell you, as we passe along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned:
Come Protheus, 'tis your pennance, but to heare
The story of your Loues discouered.
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours,
One Feast, one house, one mutuall happinesse.
The names of all the Actors.
 Duke: Father to Siluia.
 Protheus. the two Gentlemen.
 Anthonio: father to Protheus.
 Thurio: a foolish riuall to Valentine.
 Eglamoure: Agent for Siluia in her escape.
 Host: where Iulia lodges.
 Outlawes with Valentine.
 Speed: a clownish seruant to Valentine.
 Launce: the like to Protheus.
 Panthion: seruant to Antonio.
 Iulia: beloued of Protheus.
 Siluia: beloued of Valentine.
 Lucetta: waighting-woman to Iulia.
FINIS. THE Two Gentlemen of Verona.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
Loues Labour's lost
Actus primus.
Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and
  Ferdinand. Let Fame, that all hunt after in their liues,
Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes,
And then grace vs in the disgrace of death:
when spight of cormorant deuouring Time,
Th' endeuour of this present breath may buy:
That honour which shall bate his sythes keene edge,
And make vs heyres of all eternitie.
Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are,
That warre against your owne affections,
And the huge Armie of the worlds desires.
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force,
Nauar shall be the wonder of the world.
Our Court shall be a little Achademe,
Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art.
You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill,
Haue sworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me:
My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes
That are recorded in this scedule heere.
Your oathes are past, and now subscribe your names:
That his owne hand may strike his honour downe,
That violates the smallest branch heerein:
If you are arm'd to doe, as sworne to do,
Subscribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to
   Longauill. I am resolu'd, 'tis but a three yeeres fast:
The minde shall banquet, though the body pine,
Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits,
Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits
   Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified,
The grosser manner of these worlds delights,
He throwes vpon the grosse worlds baser slaues:
To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die,
With all these liuing in Philosophie
   Berowne. I can but say their protestation ouer,
So much, deare Liege, I haue already sworne,
That is, to liue and study heere three yeeres.
But there are other strict obseruances:
As not to see a woman in that terme,
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
And one day in a weeke to touch no foode:
And but one meale on euery day beside:
The which I hope is not enrolled there.
And then to sleepe but three houres in the night,
And not be seene to winke of all the day.
When I was wont to thinke no harme all night,
And make a darke night too of halfe the day:
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
O, these are barren taskes, too hard to keepe,
Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleepe
   Ferd. Your oath is past, to passe away from these
   Berow. Let me say no my Liedge, and if you please,
I onely swore to study with your grace,
And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space
   Longa. You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest
   Berow. By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest.
What is the end of study, let me know?
  Fer. Why that to know which else wee should not
   Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fro[m] co[m]mon sense
   Ferd. I, that is studies god-like recompence
   Bero. Come on then, I will sweare to studie so,
To know the thing I am forbid to know:
As thus, to study where I well may dine,
When I to fast expressely am forbid.
Or studie where to meete some Mistresse fine,
When Mistresses from common sense are hid.
Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath,
Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth.
If studies gaine be thus, and this be so,
Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know,
Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no
   Ferd. These be the stops that hinder studie quite,
And traine our intellects to vaine delight
   Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that most vaine
Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine,
As painefully to poare vpon a Booke,
To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while
Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke:
Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile:
So ere you finde where light in darkenesse lies,
Your light growes darke by losing of your eyes.
Studie me how to please the eye indeede,
By fixing it vpon a fairer eye,
Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And giue him light that it was blinded by.
Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne,
That will not be deepe search'd with sawcy lookes:
Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne,
Saue base authoritie from others Bookes.
These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights,
That giue a name to euery fixed Starre,
Haue no more profit of their shining nights,
Then those that walke and wot not what they are.
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:
And euery Godfather can giue a name
   Fer. How well hee's read, to reason against reading
   Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding
   Lon. Hee weedes the corne, and still lets grow the
   Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geesse are a
   Dum. How followes that?
  Ber. Fit in his place and time
   Dum. In reason nothing
   Ber. Something then in rime
   Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost,
That bites the first borne infants of the Spring
   Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast,
Before the Birds haue any cause to sing?
Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a Rose,
Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes:
But like of each thing that in season growes.
So you to studie now it is too late,
That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate
   Fer. Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue
   Ber. No my good Lord, I haue sworn to stay with you.
And though I haue for barbarisme spoke more,
Then for that Angell knowledge you can say,
Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne,
And bide the pennance of each three yeares day.
Giue me the paper, let me reade the same,
And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name
   Fer. How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame
   Ber. Item. That no woman shall come within a mile
of my Court.
Hath this bin proclaimed?
  Lon. Foure dayes agoe
   Ber. Let's see the penaltie.
On paine of loosing her tongue.
Who deuis'd this penaltie?
  Lon. Marry that did I
   Ber. Sweete Lord, and why?
  Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie,
A dangerous law against gentilitie.
Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within
the tearme of three yeares, hee shall indure such
publique shame as the rest of the Court shall possibly
   Ber. This Article my Liedge your selfe must breake,
For well you know here comes in Embassie
The French Kings daughter, with your selfe to speake:
A Maide of grace and compleate maiestie,
About surrender vp of Aquitaine:
To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father.
Therefore this Article is made in vaine,
Or vainly comes th' admired Princesse hither
   Fer. What say you Lords?
Why, this was quite forgot
   Ber. So Studie euermore is ouershot,
While it doth study to haue what it would,
It doth forget to doe the thing it should:
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
'Tis won as townes with fire, so won, so lost
   Fer. We must of force dispence with this Decree,
She must lye here on meere necessitie
   Ber. Necessity will make vs all forsworne
Three thousand times within this three yeeres space:
For euery man with his affects is borne,
Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace.
If I breake faith, this word shall breake for me,
I am forsworne on meere necessitie.
So to the Lawes at large I write my name,
And he that breakes them in the least degree,
Stands in attainder of eternall shame.
Suggestions are to others as to me:
But I beleeue although I seeme so loth,
I am the last that will last keepe his oth.
But is there no quicke recreation granted?
  Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted
With a refined trauailer of Spaine,
A man in all the worlds new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his braine:
One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue,
Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie:
A man of complements whom right and wrong
Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie.
This childe of fancie that Armado hight,
For interim to our studies shall relate,
In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight:
From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate.
How you delight my Lords, I know not I,
But I protest I loue to heare him lie,
And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie
   Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight
   Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport,
And so to studie, three yeeres is but short.
Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter.
  Const. Which is the Dukes owne person
   Ber. This fellow, What would'st?
  Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am
his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own person
in flesh and blood
   Ber. This is he
   Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you:
Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more
   Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching
   Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado
   Ber. How low soeuer the matter, I hope in God for
   Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs patience
   Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing
   Lon. To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderately,
or to forbeare both
   Ber. Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to
clime in the merrinesse
   Clo. The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner
   Ber. In what manner?
  Clo. In manner and forme following sir all those three.
I was seene with her in the Mannor house, sitting with
her vpon the Forme, and taken following her into the
Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme
following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner
of a man to speake to a woman, for the forme in some
   Ber. For the following sir
   Clo. As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend
   Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention?
  Ber. As we would heare an Oracle
   Clo. Such is the simplicitie of man to harken after the
   Ferdinand. Great Deputie, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole
of Nauar, my soules earths God, and bodies fostring
  Cost. Not a word of Costard yet
   Ferd. So it is
   Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling
true: but so
   Ferd. Peace,
  Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight
   Ferd. No words,
  Clow. Of other mens secrets I beseech you
   Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I
did commend the blacke oppressing humour to the most
Physicke of thy health-giuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman,
betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the
sixt houre, When beasts most grase, birds best pecke, and men
sit downe to that nourishment which is called supper: So much
for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I
meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the
place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and
most preposterous euent that draweth from my snow-white pen
the ebon coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest:
suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth
North North-east and by East from the West corner of thy
curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited
Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth,
  Clown. Mee?
  Ferd. that vnletered small knowing soule,
  Ferd. that shallow
  Clow. Still mee?)
  Ferd. which as I remember, hight Costard,
  Clow. O me)
  Ferd. sorted and consorted contrary to thy established
proclaymed Edict and Continent, Cannon: Which
with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith:
  Clo. With a Wench
   Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female;
or for thy more sweet understanding a woman: him, I (as my
euer esteemed dutie prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue
the meed of punishment by the sweet Graces Officer Anthony
Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, & estimation
   Anth. Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull
   Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called)
which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her
as a vessell of thy Lawes furie, and shall at the least of thy
sweet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of
deuoted and heart-burning heat of dutie.
Don Adriana de Armado
   Ber. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best
that euer I heard
   Fer. I the best, for the worst. But sirra, What say you
  Clo. Sir I confesse the Wench
   Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation?
  Clo. I doe confesse much of the hearing it, but little
of the marking of it
   Fer. It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to bee
taken with a Wench
   Clow. I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a
   Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damosell
   Clo. This was no Damosell neyther sir, shee was a
   Fer. It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin
   Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken
with a Maide
   Fer. This Maid will not serue your turne sir
   Clo. This Maide will serue my turne sir
   Kin. Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall
fast a Weeke with Branne and water
   Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and
   Kin. And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Berowne, see him deliuer'd ore,
And goe we Lords to put in practice that,
Which each to other hath so strongly sworne
   Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat,
These oathes and lawes will proue an idle scorne.
Sirra, come on
   Clo. I suffer for the truth sir: for true it is, I was taken
with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and
therefore welcome the sowre cup of prosperitie, affliction
may one day smile againe, and vntill then sit downe
Enter Armado and Moth his Page.
  Arma. Boy, What signe is it when a man of great
spirit growes melancholy?
  Boy. A great signe sir, that he will looke sad
   Brag. Why? sadnesse is one and the selfe-same thing
   Boy. No no, O Lord sir no
   Brag. How canst thou part sadnesse and melancholy
my tender Iuuenall?
  Boy. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my
tough signeur
   Brag. Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur?
  Boy. Why tender Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall?
  Brag. I spoke it tender Iuuenall, as a congruent apathaton,
appertaining to thy young daies, which we may
nominate tender
   Boy. And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to
your olde time, which we may name tough
   Brag. Pretty and apt
   Boy. How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt?
or I apt, and my saying prettie?
  Brag. Thou pretty because little
   Boy. Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt?
  Brag. And therefore apt, because quicke
   Boy. Speake you this in my praise Master?
  Brag. In thy condigne praise
   Boy. I will praise an Eele with the same praise
   Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous
   Boy. That an Eele is quicke
   Brag. I doe say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou
heat'st my bloud
   Boy. I am answer'd sir
   Brag. I loue not to be crost
   Boy. He speakes the meere contrary, crosses loue not him
   Br. I haue promis'd to study iij. yeres with the Duke
   Boy. You may doe it in an houre sir
   Brag. Impossible
   Boy. How many is one thrice told?
  Bra. I am ill at reckning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster
   Boy. You are a gentleman and a gamester sir
   Brag. I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a
compleat man
   Boy. Then I am sure you know how much the grosse
summe of deus-ace amounts to
   Brag. It doth amount to one more then two
   Boy. Which the base vulgar call three
   Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of study?
Now here's three studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how
easie it is to put yeres to the word three, and study three
yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will tell you
   Brag. A most fine Figure
   Boy. To proue you a Cypher
   Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue: and as
it is base for a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a
base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour
of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprobate
thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome
him to any French Courtier for a new deuis'd curtsie. I
thinke scorne to sigh, me thinkes I should out-sweare
Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene
  Boy. Hercules Master
   Brag. Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare
Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them be men
of good repute and carriage
   Boy. Sampson Master, he was a man of good carriage,
great carriage: for hee carried the Towne-gates on his
backe like a Porter: and he was in loue
   Brag. O well-knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson;
I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee
in carrying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons
loue my deare Moth?
  Boy. A Woman, Master
   Brag. Of what complexion?
  Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one
of the foure
   Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion?
  Boy. Of the sea-water Greene sir
   Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions?
  Boy. As I haue read sir, and the best of them too
   Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to
haue a Loue of that colour, methinkes Sampson had small
reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit
   Boy. It was so sir, for she had a greene wit
   Brag. My Loue is most immaculate white and red
   Boy. Most immaculate thoughts Master, are mask'd
vnder such colours
   Brag. Define, define, well educated infant
   Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue assist
   Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, most pretty and
   Boy. If shee be made of white and red,
Her faults will nere be knowne:
For blushin cheekes by faults are bred,
And feares by pale white showne:
Then if she feare, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheekes possesse the same,
Which natiue she doth owe:
A dangerous rime master against the reason of white
   Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the
  Boy. The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some
three ages since, but I thinke now 'tis not to be found: or
if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the
   Brag. I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I
may example my digression by some mighty president.
Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in
the Parke with the rationall hinde Costard: she deserues
   Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my
   Brag. Sing Boy, my spirit grows heauy in loue
   Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench
   Brag. I say sing
   Boy. Forbeare till this company be past.
Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.
  Const. Sir, the Dukes pleasure, is that you keepe Costard
safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no
penance, but hee must fast three daies a weeke: for this
Damsell, I must keepe her at the Parke, shee is alowd for
the Day-woman. Fare you well.
  Brag. I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide
   Maid. Man
   Brag. I wil visit thee at the Lodge
   Maid. That's here by
   Brag. I know where it is situate
   Mai. Lord how wise you are!
  Brag. I will tell thee wonders
   Ma. With what face?
  Brag. I loue thee
   Mai. So I heard you say
   Brag. And so farewell
   Mai. Faire weather after you
   Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away.
  Brag. Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere
thou be pardoned
   Clo. Well sir, I hope when I doe it, I shall doe it on a
full stomacke
   Brag. Thou shalt be heauily punished
   Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for
they are but lightly rewarded
   Clo. Take away this villaine, shut him vp
   Boy. Come you transgressing slaue, away
   Clow. Let mee not bee pent vp sir, I will fast being
   Boy. No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to
   Clow. Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation
that I haue seene, some shall see
   Boy. What shall some see?
  Clow. Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they
looke vpon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their
words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thanke God, I
haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I
can be quiet.
  Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is base)
where her shooe (which is baser) guided by her foote
(which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which
is a great argument of falshood) if I loue. And how can
that be true loue, which is falsly attempted? Loue is a familiar,
Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but
Loue, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent
strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and hee had
a very good witte. Cupids Butshaft is too hard for Hercules
Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spaniards
Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue
my turne: the Passado hee respects not, the Duello he
regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his
glorie is to subdue men. Adue Valour, rust Rapier, bee
still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth.
Assist me some extemporall god of Rime, for I am sure I
shall turne Sonnet. Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for
whole volumes in folio.
Finis Actus Primus.
Actus Secunda.
Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies, and
   Boyet. Now Madam summon vp your dearest spirits,
Consider who the King your father sends:
To whom he sends, and what's his Embassie.
Your selfe, held precious in the worlds esteeme,
To parlee with the sole inheritour
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchlesse Nauarre, the plea of no lesse weight
Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene,
Be now as prodigall of all deare grace,
As Nature was in making Graces deare,
When she did starue the generall world beside,
And prodigally gaue them all to you
   Queen. Good L[ord]. Boyet, my beauty though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye,
Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues:
I am lesse proud to heare you tell my worth,
Then you much willing to be counted wise,
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet
   Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame
Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a vow,
Till painefull studie shall out-weare three yeares,
No woman may approach his silent Court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe
Bold of your worthinesse, we single you,
As our best mouing faire soliciter:
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious businesse crauing quicke dispatch,
Importunes personall conference with his grace.
Haste, signifie so much while we attend,
Like humble visag'd suters his high will
   Boy. Proud of imployment, willingly I goe.
  Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so:
Who are the Votaries my Louing Lords, that are vow-fellowes
with this vertuous Duke?
  Lor. Longauill is one
   Princ. Know you the man?
  1 Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast,
Betweene L[ord]. Perigort and the beautious heire
Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.
In Normandie saw I this Longauill,
A man of soueraigne parts he is esteem'd:
Well fitted in Arts, glorious in Armes:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The onely soyle of his faire vertues glosse,
If vertues glosse will staine with any soile,
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will:
Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wills,
It should none spare that come within his power
   Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so?
  Lad.1. They say so most, that most his humors know
   Prin. such short liu'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
  2.Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth,
Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued.
Most power to doe most harme, least knowing ill:
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though she had no wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alansoes once,
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthinesse
   Rossa. Another of these Students at that time,
Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth.
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becomming mirth,
I neuer spent an houres talke withall.
His eye begets occasion for his wit,
For euery obiect that the one doth catch,
The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iest.
Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor)
Deliuers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged eares play treuant at his tales,
And yonger hearings are quite rauished.
So sweet and voluble is his discourse
   Prin. God blesse my Ladies, are they all in loue?
That euery one her owne hath garnished,
With such bedecking ornaments of praise
   Ma. Heere comes Boyet.
Enter Boyet.
  Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?
  Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach;
And he and his competitors in oath,
Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady
Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt,
He rather meanes to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes heere to besiege his Court,
Then seeke a dispensation for his oath:
To let you enter his vnpeopled house.
Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.
Heere comes Nauar
   Nau. Faire Princesse, welcom to the Court of Nauar
   Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I
haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to bee
yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be
   Nau. You shall be welcome Madam to my Court
   Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither
   Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oath
   Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'll be forsworne
   Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will
   Prin. Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els
   Nau. Your Ladiship is ignorant what it is
   Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance.
I heare your grace hath sworne out House-keeping:
'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord,
And sinne to breake it:
But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold,
To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming,
And sodainly resolue me in my suite
   Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may
   Prin. You will the sooner that I were away,
For you'll proue periur'd if you make me stay
   Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
  Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
  Ber. I know you did
   Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question?
  Ber. You must not be so quicke
   Rosa. 'Tis long of you y spur me with such questions
   Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire
   Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire
   Ber. What time a day?
  Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske
   Ber. Now faire befall your maske
   Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers
   Ber. And send you many louers
   Rosa. Amen, so you be none
   Ber. Nay then will I be gone
   Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
Being but th' one halfe, of an intire summe,
Disbursed by my father in his warres.
But say that he, or we, as neither haue
Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid
A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,
Although not valued to the moneys worth.
If then the King your father will restore
But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied,
We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,
And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie:
But that it seemes he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to haue repaie,
An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands
One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
To haue his title liue in Aquitaine.
Which we much rather had depart withall,
And haue the money by our father lent,
Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is.
Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre
From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make
A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my brest,
And goe well satisfied to France againe
   Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so vnseeming to confesse receyt
Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid
   Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it,
And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
Or yeeld vp Aquitaine
   Prin. We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a summe, from speciall Officers,
Of Charles his Father
   Kin. Satisfie me so
   Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come
Where that and other specialties are bound,
To morrow you shall haue a sight of them
   Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview,
All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto:
Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of Honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse.
You may not come faire Princesse in my gates,
But heere without you shall be so receiu'd,
As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart,
Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house:
Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell,
To morrow we shall visit you againe
   Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace
   Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place.
  Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart
   La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations,
I would be glad to see it
   Boy. I would you heard it grone
   La.Ro. Is the soule sicke?
  Boy. Sicke at the heart
   La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud
   Boy. Would that doe it good?
  La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I
   Boy. Will you prick't with your eye
   La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife
   Boy. Now God saue thy life
   La.Ro. And yours from long liuing
   Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing.
Enter Dumane.
  Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same?
  Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name
   Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well
   Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?
  Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light
   Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name
   Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe,
To desire that were a shame
   Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter?
  Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard
   Long. Gods blessing a your beard
   Boy. Good sir be not offended,
Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge
   Long. Nay, my choller is ended:
Shee is a most sweet Lady.
  Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be.
Enter Beroune.
  Ber. What's her name in the cap
   Boy. Katherine by good hap
   Ber. Is she wedded, or no
   Boy. To her will sir, or so,
  Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew
   Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you.
  La.Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord.
Not a word with him, but a iest
   Boy. And euery iest but a word
   Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word
   Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord
   La.Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie:
And wherefore not Ships?
  Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your lips
   La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest?
  Boy. So you grant pasture for me
   La. Not so gentle beast.
My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be
   Bo. Belonging to whom?
  La. To my fortunes and me
   Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree.
This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed
On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd
   Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies
By the hearts still rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes)
Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected
   Prin. With what?
  Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected
   Prin. Your reason
   Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire,
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
His hart like an Agot with your print impressed,
Proud with his forme, in his eie pride expressed.
His tongue all impatient to speake and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eie-sight to be,
All sences to that sence did make their repaire,
To feele onely looking on fairest of faire:
Me thought all his sences were lockt in his eye,
As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to Buy.
Who tendring their own worth from whence they were glast,
Did point out to buy them along as you past.
His faces owne margent did coate such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes.
Ile giue you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
And you giue him for my sake, but one louing Kisse
   Prin. Come to our Pauillion, Boyet is disposde
   Bro. But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclos'd.
I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie,
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie
   Lad.Ro. Thou art an old Loue-monger, and speakest
   Lad.Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news
   Lad.2. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father
   Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches?
   Boy. What then, do you see?
  Lad.2. I, our way to be gone
   Boy. You are too hard for me.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Braggart and Boy.
  Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing
   Boy. Concolinel
   Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take
this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly
hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my
   Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule?
  Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French?
  Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune
at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour
it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note,
sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue
with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you
snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike
ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on
your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your
hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting,
and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away:
these are complements, these are humours, these betraie
nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and
make them men of note: do you note men that most are
affected to these?
  Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience?
  Boy. By my penne of obseruation
   Brag. But O, but O
   Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot
   Bra. Cal'st thou my loue Hobbi-horse
   Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and
and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie:
but haue you forgot your Loue?
  Brag. Almost I had
   Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart
   Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy
   Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will
   Brag. What wilt thou proue?
  Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon
the instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart
cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your
heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her,
being out of heart that you cannot enioy her
   Brag. I am all these three
   Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing
   Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a
   Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour
   Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou?
  Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse
for he is verie slow gated: but I goe
   Brag. The way is but short, away
   Boy. As swift as Lead sir
   Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a
mettall heauie, dull, and slow?
  Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no
   Brag. I say Lead is slow
   Boy. You are too swift sir to say so.
Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne?
  Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike,
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he:
I shoote thee at the Swaine
   Boy. Thump then, and I flee
   Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace,
By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place.
My Herald is return'd.
Enter Page and Clowne.
  Pag. A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a
   Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy
   Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee
male sir. Or sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no
lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan
   Ar. By vertue, thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie
thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes
me to rediculous smyling: O pardon me my stars, doth
the inconsiderate take salue for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy
for a salue?
  Pag. Doe the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a
  Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine,
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine.
Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with
The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
Were still at oddes, being but three
   Arm. Vntill the Goose came out of doore,
Staying the oddes by adding foure
   Pag. A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: would you
desire more?
  Clo. The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat.
Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat.
To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose:
Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that's a fat Goose
   Ar. Come hither, come hither:
How did this argument begin?
  Boy. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.
Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy
   Clow. True, and I for a Plantan:
Thus came your argument in:
Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought,
And he ended the market
   Ar. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in
  Pag. I will tell you sencibly
   Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth,
I will speake that Lenuoy.
I Costard running out, that was safely within,
Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin
   Arm. We will talke no more of this matter
   Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin
   Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee
   Clow. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy,
some Goose in this
   Arm. By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at libertie.
Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured,
restrained, captiuated, bound
   Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation,
and let me loose
   Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance,
and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta:
there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours
is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow
   Pag. Like the sequell I.
Signeur Costard adew.
  Clow. My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my inconie
Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration.
Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-farthings:
Three-farthings remuneration, What's the price
of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why?
It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then
a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this
Enter Berowne.
  Ber. O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met
   Clow. Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon
may a man buy for a remuneration?
  Ber. What is a remuneration?
  Cost. Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing
   Ber. O, Why then threefarthings worth of Silke
   Cost. I thanke your worship, God be wy you
   Ber. O stay slaue, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue,
Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate
   Clow. When would you haue it done sir?
  Ber. O this after-noone
   Clo. Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well
   Ber. O thou knowest not what it is
   Clo. I shall know sir, when I haue done it
   Ber. Why villaine thou must know first
   Clo. I wil come to your worship to morrow morning
   Ber. It must be done this after-noone,
Harke slaue, it is but this:
The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke,
And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie:
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her:
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-vp counsaile. Ther's thy guerdon: goe
   Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration,
a leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon.
I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration.
  Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue,
I that haue beene loues whip?
A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke,
Nay, a night-watch Constable.
A domineering pedant ore the Boy,
Then whom no mortall so magnificent,
This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy,
This signior Iunios gyant dwarfe, don Cupid,
Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes,
Th' annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes:
Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents:
Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces.
Sole Emperator and great generall
Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)
And I to be a Corporall of his field,
And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope.
What? I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife,
A woman that is like a Germane Cloake,
Still a repairing: euer out of frame,
And neuer going a right, being a Watch:
But being watcht, that it may still goe right.
Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all:
And among three, to loue the worst of all,
A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow.
With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes.
I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede,
Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her, go to: it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect,
Of his almighty dreadfull little might.
Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone,
Some men must loue my Lady, and some Ione.
Actus Quartus.
Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords.
  Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard,
Against the steepe vprising of the hill?
  Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he
   Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde:
Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch,
On Saterday we will returne to France.
Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
  For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice,
A stand where you may make the fairest shoote
   Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote
   For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so
   Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no.
O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe
   For. Yes Madam faire
   Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now,
Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true:
Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due
   For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit
   Qu. See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit.
O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes,
A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise.
But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill,
And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote,
Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't:
If wounding, then it was to shew my skill,
That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill.
And out of question, so it is sometimes:
Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes,
When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part,
We bend to that, the working of the hart.
As I for praise alone now seeke to spill
The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill
   Boy. Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie
Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be
Lords ore their Lords?
  Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford,
To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.
Enter Clowne.
  Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth
   Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head
  Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue
   Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?
  Qu. The thickest, and the tallest
   Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth.
And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit,
One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit.
Are not you the chiefe woma[n]? You are the thickest here?
  Qu. What's your will sir? What's your will?
  Clo. I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne,
To one Lady Rosaline
   Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.
Stand a side good bearer.
Boyet, you can carue,
Breake vp this Capon
   Boyet. I am bound to serue.
This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here:
It is writ to Iaquenetta
   Qu. We will read it, I sweare.
Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare
   Boyet reades. By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible:
that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art
louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious,
truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall
Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King
Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Begger
Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni,
vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O
base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame:
hee came one; see, two; ouercame three:
Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why
did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the
Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame
he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose
side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side?
the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose
side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am
the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Begger,
for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command
thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could.
Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange
for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe
mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on
thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
euerie part.
Thine in the dearest designe of industrie,
Don Adriana de Armatho.
Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare,
Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray:
Submissiue fall his princely feete before,
And he from forrage will incline to play.
But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then?
Foode for his rage, repasture for his den
   Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this
Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you
euer heare better?
  Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile
   Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile
   Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court
A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince and his Booke-mates
   Qu. Thou fellow, a word.
Who gaue thee this Letter?
  Clow. I told you, my Lord
   Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it?
  Clo. From my Lord to my Lady
   Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady?
  Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine,
To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline
   Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.
Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day.
  Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
  Rosa. Shall I teach you to know
   Boy. I my continent of beautie
   Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off
   Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,
Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie.
Finely put on
   Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter
   Boy. And who is your Deare?
  Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not
neare. Finely put on indeede
   Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee
strikes at the brow
   Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower:
Haue I hit her now
   Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that
was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as
touching the hit it
   Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that
was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a
little wench, as touching the hit it
   Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it my good man
   Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:
And I cannot, another can.
  Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it
   Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both
   Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies
Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be
   Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out
   Clo. Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit
   Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand
   Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the
   Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow
   Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her
   Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good
   Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne.
Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe.
O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit,
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were,
Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man.
To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan.
To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will
And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit,
Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.
Sowla, sowla.
Exeunt. Shoote within.
Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.
  Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony
of a good conscience
   Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood,
ripe as a Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in
the eare of Celo the skie; the welken the heauen, and anon
falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the
land, the earth
   Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are
sweetly varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure
ye, it was a Bucke of the first head
   Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo
   Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket
   Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation,
as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as
it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were
his inclination after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated,
vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest
vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud credo
   Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, 'twas a
   Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster
Ignorance, how deformed doost thou looke
   Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are
bred in a booke.
He hath not eate paper as it were:
He hath not drunke inke.
His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall,
onely sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants
are set before vs, that we thankfull should be: which we
taste and feeling, are for those parts that doe fructifie in
vs more then he.
For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or
So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a
But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde,
Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde
   Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your
wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue
weekes old as yet?
  Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman
   Dul. What is dictima?
  Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone
   Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was
And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore.
Th' allusion holds in the Exchange
   Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the
   Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds
in the Exchange
   Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange:
for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I say beside
that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princesse kill'd
   Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall
Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour
the ignorant call'd the Deare, the Princesse kill'd a
   Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall
please you to abrogate scurilitie
   Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues
The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt
a prettie pleasing Pricket,
Some say a Sore, but not a sore,
till now made sore with shooting.
The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore,
then Sorrell iumps from thicket:
Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell,
the people fall a hooting.
If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore,
makes fiftie sores O sorell:
Of one sore I an hundred make
by adding but one more L
   Nath. A rare talent
   Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him
with a talent
   Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish
extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects,
Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These
are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the
wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing
of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is
acute, and I am thankfull for it
   Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my
parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you,
and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you
are a good member of the common-wealth
   Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they
shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable,
I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a
soule Feminine saluteth vs.
Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.
  Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person
   Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should
be perst, Which is the one?
  Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a
   Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit
in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle
enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well
   Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee
this Letter, it was giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee
from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it
   Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra
ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I
may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie,
vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan,
old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re
sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or
rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses
   Hol. I sir, and very learned
   Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine.
If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue?
Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed.
Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue.
Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers
Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend.
If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend.
All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder.
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire;
Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue
   Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the
accent. Let me superuise the cangenet
   Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the
elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius
Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but
for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the
ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the
Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse
his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to
  Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the
strange Queenes Lords
   Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript.
To the snow-white hand of the most beautious Lady Rosaline.
I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for
the nomination of the partie written to the person written
Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne
   Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries
with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent
of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or
by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and
goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the
King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I
forgiue thy duetie, adue
   Maid. Good Costard go with me:
Sir God saue your life
   Cost. Haue with thee my girle.
  Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very
religiously: and as a certaine Father saith
  Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do feare colourable
colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please
you sir Nathaniel?
  Nath. Marueilous well for the pen
   Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill
of mine, where if (being repast) it shall please you to
gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I
haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill,
vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those
Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of
Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie
   Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text)
is the happinesse of life
   Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.
Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.
  Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare,
I am coursing my selfe.
They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch,
pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee
downe sorrow; for so they say the foole said, and so say
I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this
Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a
sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue;
if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by
this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for
her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye,
and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath
taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is
part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she
hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the
Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, sweeter
Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care
a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a
paper, God giue him grace to grone.
He stands aside. The King entreth.
  Kin. Ay mee!
  Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast
thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith
   King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not,
To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose,
As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot.
The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright,
Through the transparent bosome of the deepe,
As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
Thou shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe,
No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the teares that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my griefe will show:
But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe.
O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell,
No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper.
Sweete leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere?
Enter Longauile. The King steps aside.
What Longauill, and reading: listen eare
   Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare
   Long. Ay me, I am forsworne
   Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers
   Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame
   Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name
   Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur'd so?
  Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,
Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of societie,
The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp simplicitie
   Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue.
O sweet Maria, Empresse of my Loue,
These numbers will I teare, and write in prose
   Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose,
Disfigure not his Shop
   Lon. This same shall goe.
He reades the Sonnet.
Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Perswade my heart to this false periurie?
Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment.
A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,
Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee.
My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue.
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth doest shine,
Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, What foole is not so wise,
To loose an oath, to win a Paradise?
  Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity.
A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry.
God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th' way.
Enter Dumaine.
  Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay
   Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,
Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie,
And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.
More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish,
Dumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a dish
   Dum. O most diuine Kate
   Bero. O most prophane coxcombe
   Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye
   Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye
   Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted
   Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted
   Dum. As vpright as the Cedar
   Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child
   Dum. As faire as day
   Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine
   Dum. O that I had my wish?
  Lon. And I had mine
   Kin. And mine too good Lord
   Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?
  Dum. I would forget her, but a Feuer she
Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be
   Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision
Would let her out in Sawcers, sweet misprision
   Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ
   Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.
Dumane reades his Sonnet.
On a day, alack the day:
Loue, whose Month is euery May,
Spied a blossome passing faire,
Playing in the wanton ayre:
Through the Veluet, leaues the winde,
All vnseene, can passage finde.
That the Louer sicke to death,
Wish himselfe the heauens breath.
Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,
Ayre, would I might triumph so.
But alacke my hand is sworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:
Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,
youth so apt to plucke a sweet.
Doe not call it sinne in me,
That I am forsworne for thee.
Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,
Iuno but an aethiop were,
And denie himselfe for Ioue.
Turning mortall for thy Loue.
This will I send, and something else more plaine.
That shall expresse my true-loues fasting paine.
O would the King, Berowne and Longauill,
Were Louers too, ill to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note:
For none offend, where all alike doe dote
   Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie,
That in Loues griefe desir'st societie:
You may looke pale, but I should blush I know,
To be ore-heard, and taken napping so
   Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such,
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,
Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile;
Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart
His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart.
I haue beene closely shrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru'd your fashion:
Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your passion.
Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries!
On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes.
You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth,
And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath.
What will Berowne say when that he shall heare
Faith infringed, which such zeale did sweare.
How will he scorne? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that euer I did see,
I would not haue him know so much by me
   Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.
Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.
Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
These wormes for louing, that art most in loue?
Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.
There is no certaine Princesse that appeares.
You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:
Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:
But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.
O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.
Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene:
O me, with what strict patience haue I sat,
To see a King transformed to a Gnat?
To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge?
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes,
And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes.
Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine;
And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine?
And where my Liedges? all about the brest:
A Candle hoa!
  Kin. Too bitter is thy iest.
Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?
  Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.
I that am honest, I that hold it sinne
To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
I am betrayed by keeping company
With men, like men of inconstancie.
When shall you see me write a thing in rime?
Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time,
In pruning mee, when shall you heare that I will praise a
hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
a waste, a legge, a limme
   Kin. Soft, Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so
   Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go.
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.
  Iaqu. God blesse the King
   Kin. What Present hast thou there?
  Clo. Some certaine treason
   Kin. What makes treason heere?
  Clo. Nay it makes nothing sir
   Kin. If it marre nothing neither,
The treason and you goe in peace away together
   Iaqu. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,
Our person mis-doubts it: it was treason he said
   Kin. Berowne, read it ouer.
He reades the Letter.
  Kin. Where hadst thou it?
  Iaqu. Of Costard
   King. Where hadst thou it?
  Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio
   Kin. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
  Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not
   Long. It did moue him to passion, and therefore let's
   Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name
   Ber. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne
to doe me shame.
Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse
   Kin. What?
  Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make
vp the messe.
He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I,
Are picke-purses in Loue, and we deserue to die.
O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more
   Dum. Now the number is euen
   Berow. True true, we are fowre: will these Turtles
  Kin. Hence sirs, away
   Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay
   Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace,
As true we are as flesh and bloud can be,
The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face:
Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.
We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne:
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworne
   King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of
  Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline,
That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.)
At the first opening of the gorgeous East,
Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye
Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,
That is not blinded by her maiestie?
  Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now?
My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone,
Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light
   Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.
O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night,
Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty,
Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,
Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not,
To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs:
She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot.
A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne,
Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine
   King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie
   Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine?
A wife of such wood were felicite.
O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke,
If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
No face is faire that is not full so blacke
   Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night:
And beauties crest becomes the heauens well
   Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light.
O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
Should rauish doters with a false aspect:
And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.
Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
For natiue bloud is counted painting now:
And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise,
Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow
   Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke
   Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright
   King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake
   Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light
   Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine,
For feare their colours should be washt away
   Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine,
Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day
   Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here
   Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee
   Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere
   Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see
   Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread
   Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes?
The street should see as she walk'd ouer head
   Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?
  Ber. O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne
   Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue
Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne
   Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill
   Long. O some authority how to proceed,
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell
   Dum. Some salue for periurie,
  Ber. O 'tis more then neede.
Haue at you then affections men at armes,
Consider what you first did sweare vnto:
To fast, to study, and to see no woman:
Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth.
Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young:
And abstinence ingenders maladies.
And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords)
In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.
Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke.
For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
Haue found the ground of studies excellence,
Without the beauty of a womans face;
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,
They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long during action tyres
The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.
Now for not looking on a womans face,
You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes:
And studie too, the causer of your vow.
For where is any Author in the world,
Teaches such beauty as a womans eye:
Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,
And where we are, our Learning likewise is.
Then when our selues we see in Ladies eyes,
With our selues.
Doe we not likewise see our learning there?
O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords,
And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes:
For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?
In leaden contemplation haue found out
Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,
Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with:
Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine:
And therefore finding barraine practizers,
Scarce shew a haruest of their heauy toyle.
But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes,
Liues not alone emured in the braine:
But with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in euery power,
And giues to euery power a double power,
Aboue their functions and their offices.
It addes a precious seeing to the eye:
A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.
A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound.
When the suspicious head of theft is stopt.
Loues feeling is more soft and sensible,
Then are the tender hornes of Cockle Snayles.
Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste,
For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?
Still climing trees in the Hesperides.
Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall,
As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.
And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes:
O then his lines would rauish sauage eares,
And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
They sparcle still the right promethean fire,
They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,
That shew, containe, and nourish all the world.
Else none at all in ought proues excellent.
Then fooles you were these women to forsweare:
Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue:
Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.
Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women:
Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.
Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues,
Or else we loose our selues, to keepe our oathes:
It is religion to be thus forsworne.
For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law:
And who can seuer loue from Charity
   Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field
   Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords,
Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd,
In conflict that you get the Sunne of them
   Long. Now to plaine dealing, Lay these glozes by,
Shall we resolue to woe these girles of France?
  Kin. And winne them too, therefore let vs deuise,
Some entertainment for them in their Tents
   Ber. First from the Park let vs conduct them thither,
Then homeward euery man attach the hand
Of his faire Mistresse, in the afternoone
We will with some strange pastime solace them:
Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape,
For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres,
Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres
   Kin. Away, away, no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by vs be fitted
   Ber. Alone, alone sowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne,
And Iustice alwaies whirles in equall measure:
Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne,
If so, our Copper buyes no better treasure.
Actus Quartus.
Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.
  Pedant. Satis quid sufficit
   Curat. I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner
haue beene sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity,
witty without affection, audacious without impudency,
learned without opinion, and strange without
heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion
of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called,
Don Adriano de Armatho
   Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty,
his discourse peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye
ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour
vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked,
too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too peregrinat,
as I may call it
   Curat. A most singular and choise Epithat,
Draw out his Table-booke.
  Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer
then the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall
phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise
companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake
dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold
pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe:
halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated
ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhominable
it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to
make franticke, lunaticke?
  Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo
   Peda. Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil
Enter Bragart, Boy.
  Curat. Vides ne quis venit?
  Peda. Video, & gaudio
   Brag. Chirra
   Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
  Brag. Men of peace well incountred
   Ped. Most millitarie sir salutation
   Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages,
and stolne the scraps
   Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of
words. I maruell thy M[aster]. hath not eaten thee for a word,
for thou art not so long by the head as
honorificabilitu%dinitatibus:
Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon
   Page. Peace, the peale begins
   Brag. Mounsier, are you not lettred?
  Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke:
What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head?
  Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added
   Pag. Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare
his learning
   Peda. Quis quis, thou Consonant?
  Pag. The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them,
or the fift if I
   Peda. I will repeat them: a e I
   Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u
   Brag. Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a
sweet tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick &
home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit
   Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is
   Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?
  Page. Hornes
   Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy
   Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds
   Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou
shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the
very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny
purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & the
heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard;
What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to,
thou hast it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say
   Peda. Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem
   Brag. Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse
on the top of the Mountaine?
  Peda. Or Mons the hill
   Brag. At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine
   Peda. I doe sans question
   Bra. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection,
to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in
the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call
the after-noone
   Ped. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable,
congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the
word is well culd, chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you
sir, I doe assure
   Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar,
I doe assure ye very good friend: for what is inward
betweene vs, let it passe. I doe beseech thee remember
thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparell thy head:
and among other importunate & most serious designes,
and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I
must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world)
sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with
his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my
mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the world
I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it
pleaseth his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier,
a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that
passe; the very all of all is: but sweet heart I do implore
secrecie, that the King would haue mee present the
Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation,
or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke:
Now, vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweet self
are good at such eruptions, and sodaine breaking out of
myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to
the end to craue your assistance
   Peda. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies.
Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment
of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to bee
rendred by our assistants the Kings command: and this
most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before
the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine
   Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to
present them?
  Peda. Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman
Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his
great limme or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the
Page Hercules
   Brag. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough
for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of
   Peda. Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules
in minoritie: his enter and exit shall bee strangling a
Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose
   Pag. An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience
hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest
the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious,
though few haue the grace to doe it
   Brag. For the rest of the Worthies?
  Peda. I will play three my selfe
   Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman
   Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?
  Peda. We attend
   Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I
beseech you follow
   Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word
all this while
   Dull. Nor vnderstood none neither sir
   Ped. Alone, we will employ thee
   Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play
on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey
   Ped. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.
Enter Ladies.
  Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I
haue from the louing King
   Rosa. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
  Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime,
As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper
Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all,
That he was faine to seale on Cupids name
   Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax:
For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy
   Kath. I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too
   Ros. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister
   Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and
so she died: had she beene Light like you, of such a merrie
nimble stirring spirit, she might a bin a Grandam ere
she died. And so may you: For a light heart liues long
   Ros. What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light
  Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke
   Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out
   Kat. You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe:
Therefore Ile darkely end the argument
   Ros. Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke
   Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench
   Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light
   Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me
   Ros. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure
   Qu. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.
But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
  Ros. I would you knew.
And if my face were but as faire as yours,
My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this.
Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne,
The numbers true, and were the numbring too.
I were the fairest goddesse on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O he hath drawne my picture in his letter
   Qu. Any thing like?
  Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise
   Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion
   Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke
   Ros. Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor,
My red Dominicall, my golden letter.
O that your face were full of Oes
   Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes:
But Katherine, what was sent to you
From faire Dumaine?
  Kat. Madame, this Gloue
   Qu. Did he not send you twaine?
  Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer,
Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer.
A huge translation of hypocrisie,
Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie
   Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile.
The Letter is too long by halfe a mile
   Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart
The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short
   Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part
   Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so
   Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe.
O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke,
How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke,
And wait the season, and obserue the times,
And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes,
And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice,
And make him proud to make me proud that iests.
So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state,
That he shold be my foole, and I his fate
   Qu. None are so surely caught, when they are catcht,
As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd:
Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?
  Ros. The bloud of youth burns not with such excesse,
As grauities reuolt to wantons be
   Mar. Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note,
As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie.
Enter Boyet.
  Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face
   Boy. O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace?
  Qu. Thy newes Boyet?
  Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare.
Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, disguis'd:
Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd.
Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence,
Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence
   Qu. Saint Dennis to S[aint]. Cupid: What are they,
That charge their breath against vs? Say scout say
   Boy. Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre:
When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest,
The King and his companions: warely
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare:
That by and by disguis'd they will be heere.
Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page:
That well by heart hath con'd his embassage,
Action and accent did they teach him there.
Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare.
And euer and anon they made a doubt,
Presence maiesticall would put him out:
For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see:
Yet feare not thou, but speake audaciously.
The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill:
I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill.
With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder.
One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was neuer spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well.
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell:
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zelous laughter so profound,
That in this spleene ridiculous appeares,
To checke their folly passions solemne teares
   Que. But what, but what, come they to visit vs?
  Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse.
Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance,
And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance,
Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know
By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow
   Queen. And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt:
For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt,
And not a man of them shall haue the grace
Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face.
Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare,
And then the King will court thee for his Deare:
Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine,
So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.
And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues
Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues
   Rosa. Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight
   Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent?
  Queen. The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs:
They doe it but in mocking merriment,
And mocke for mocke is onely my intent.
Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall,
To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall.
Vpon the next occasion that we meete,
With Visages displayd to talke and greete
   Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't?
  Quee. No, to the death we will not moue a foot,
Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace:
But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face
   Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart,
And quite diuorce his memory from his part
   Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt,
The rest will ere come in, if he be out.
Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne:
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne.
So shall we stay mocking entended game,
And they well mockt, depart away with shame.
  Boy. The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers
Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the
the Lords disguised.
  Page. All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth
   Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata
   Pag. A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd
their backes to mortall viewes.
The Ladies turne their backes to him.
  Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes
   Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes.
  Boy. True, out indeed
   Pag. Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe
Not to beholde
   Ber. Once to behold, rogue
   Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes,
With your Sunne beamed eyes
   Boy. They will not answer to that Epythite,
you were best call it Daughter beamed eyes
   Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out
   Bero. Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue
   Rosa. What would these strangers?
Know their mindes Boyet.
If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will
That some plaine man recount their purposes.
Know what they would?
  Boyet. What would you with the Princes?
  Ber. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation
   Ros. What would they, say they?
  Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation
   Rosa. Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon
   Boy. She saies you haue it, and you may be gon
   Kin. Say to her we haue measur'd many miles,
To tread a Measure with you on the grasse
   Boy. They say that they haue measur'd many a mile,
To tread a Measure with you on this grasse
   Rosa. It is not so. Aske them how many inches
Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie,
The measure then of one is easlie told
   Boy. If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles,
And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill vp one mile?
  Ber. Tell her we measure them by weary steps
   Boy. She heares her selfe
   Rosa. How manie wearie steps,
Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone,
Are numbred in the trauell of one mile?
  Bero. We number nothing that we spend for you,
Our dutie is so rich, so infinite,
That we may doe it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face,
That we (like sauages) may worship it
   Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too
   Kin. Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do.
Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy stars to shine,
(Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne
   Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter,
Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water
   Kin. Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change.
Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange
   Rosa. Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone.
Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone
   Kin. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
  Rosa. You tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's
  Kin. Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man
   Rosa. The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to
it: Our eares vouchsafe it
   Kin. But your legges should doe it
   Ros. Since you are strangers, & come here by chance,
Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance
   Kin. Why take you hands then?
  Rosa. Onelie to part friends.
Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends
   Kin. More measure of this measure, be not nice
   Rosa. We can afford no more at such a price
   Kin. Prise your selues: What buyes your companie?
  Rosa. Your absence onelie
   Kin. That can neuer be
   Rosa. Then cannot we be bought: and so adue,
Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you
   Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat
   Ros. In priuate then
   Kin. I am best pleas'd with that
   Be. White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee
   Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three
   Ber. Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice
Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice:
There's halfe a dozen sweets
   Qu. Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg,
Ile play no more with you
   Ber. One word in secret
   Qu. Let it not be sweet
   Ber. Thou greeu'st my gall
   Qu. Gall, bitter
   Ber. Therefore meete
   Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
  Mar. Name it
   Dum. Faire Ladie:
  Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord:
Take you that for your faire Lady
   Du. Please it you,
As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu
   Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong?
  Long. I know the reason Ladie why you aske
   Mar. O for your reason, quickly sir, I long
   Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask,
And would affoord my speechlesse vizard halfe
   Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a
  Long. A Calfe faire Ladie?
  Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe
   Long. Let's part the word
   Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:
Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe
   Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe
Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so
   Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow
   Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die
   Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry
   Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the Razors edge, inuisible:
Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene,
Aboue the sense of sence so sensible:
Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings,
Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things
  Rosa. Not one word more my maides, breake off,
   Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe
   King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple
  Qu. Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits.
Are these the breed of wits so wondred at?
  Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes
   Rosa. Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat
   Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout.
Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night?
Or euer but in vizards shew their faces:
This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite
   Rosa. They were all in lamentable cases.
The King was weeping ripe for a good word
   Qu. Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite
   Mar. Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword:
No point (quoth I:) my seruant straight was mute
   Ka. Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart:
And trow you what he call'd me?
  Qu. Qualme perhaps
   Kat. Yes in good faith
   Qu. Go sicknesse as thou art
   Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps,
But will you heare; the King is my loue sworne
   Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me
   Kat. And Longauill was for my seruice borne
   Mar. Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree
   Boyet. Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare,
Immediately they will againe be heere
In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be,
They will digest this harsh indignitie
   Qu. Will they returne?
  Boy. They will they will, God knowes,
And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes:
Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire,
Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer aire
   Qu. How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood
   Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud:
Dismaskt, their damaske sweet commixture showne,
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne
   Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do,
If they returne in their owne shapes to wo?
  Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd.
Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd:
Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare,
Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare:
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd:
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our Tent to vs
   Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand
   Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.
Enter the King and the rest.
  King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse?
  Boy. Gone to her Tent.
Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her?
  King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word
   Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.
  Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease,
And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please.
He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares,
At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires.
And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know,
Haue not the grace to grace it with such show.
This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue.
Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue.
He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he,
That kist away his hand in courtesie.
This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice,
That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice
In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing
A meane most meanly, and in Vshering
Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete.
The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete.
This is the flower that smiles on euerie one,
To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone.
And consciences that wil not die in debt,
Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet
   King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart,
That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
Enter the Ladies.
  Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou,
Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now?
  King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day
   Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue
   King. Construe my speeches better, if you may
   Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue
   King. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then
   Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men
   King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke:
The vertue of your eie must breake my oth
   Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke:
For vertues office neuer breakes men troth.
Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure
As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yeeld to be your houses guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie
   Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere,
Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame
   Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare,
We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game,
A messe of Russians left vs but of late
   Kin. How Madam? Russians?
  Qu. I in truth, my Lord.
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state
   Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord:
My Ladie (to the manner of the daies)
In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise.
We foure indeed confronted were with foure
In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre,
And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord)
They did not blesse vs with one happy word.
I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,
When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke
   Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete,
Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete
With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie:
By light we loose light; your capacitie
Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore,
Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore
   Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie
  Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie
   Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue
   Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse
   Ros. All the foole mine
   Ber. I cannot giue you lesse
   Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?
  Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?
Why demand you this?
  Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face
   Kin. We are discried,
They'l mocke vs now downeright
   Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest
   Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes
  Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke
Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie
   Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury.
Can any face of brasse hold longer out?
Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me,
Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout.
Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance.
Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit:
And I will wish thee neuer more to dance,
Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite.
O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd,
Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue.
Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue,
Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise,
Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection;
Figures pedanticall, these summer flies,
Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forsweare them, and I heere protest,
By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest
In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes.
And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw,
  Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you
   Ber. Yet I haue a tricke
Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see,
Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,
They are infected, in their hearts it lies:
They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These Lords are visited, you are not free:
For the Lords tokens on you do I see
   Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs
   Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs
   Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue
   Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you
   Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend
   Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end
   King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression,
some faire excuse
   Qu. The fairest is confession.
Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?
  Kin. Madam, I was
   Qu. And were you well aduis'd?
  Kin. I was faire Madam
   Qu. When you then were heere,
What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
  King. That more then all the world I did respect her
  Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect
   King. Vpon mine Honor no
   Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare
   King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine
   Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your eare?
  Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare
As precious eye-sight, and did value me
Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer,
That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer
   Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord
Most honorably doth vphold his word
   King. What meane you Madame?
By my life, my troth
I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth
   Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
You gaue me this: But take it sir againe
   King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue,
I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue
   Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare.
And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.
What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
  Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine.
I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas Comedie.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie,
Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick
That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick
To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd;
Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we
Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she.
Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,
We are againe forsworne in will and error.
Much vpon this tis: and might not you
Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?
Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?
And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.
Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd.
You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie
Wounds like a Leaden sword
   Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere
   Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.
Enter Clowne.
Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray
   Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no
   Ber. What, are there but three?
  Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine,
For euerie one pursents three
   Ber. And three times thrice is nine
   Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so.
You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what
we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir
   Ber. Is not nine
   Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it
   Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine
   Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your
liuing by reckning sir
   Ber. How much is it?
  Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir
will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne
part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one
poore man) Pompion the great sir
   Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?
  Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey
the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of
the Worthie, but I am to stand for him
   Ber. Go, bid them prepare.
  Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some
   King. Berowne, they will shame vs:
Let them not approach
   Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some
policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his
   Kin. I say they shall not come
   Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now;
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.
Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents
Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents:
Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth
   Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord.
Enter Braggart.
  Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy
royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words
   Qu. Doth this man serue God?
  Ber. Why aske you?
  Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making
   Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch:
For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall:
Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they
say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde
most royall cupplement
   King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies;
He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great,
the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules,
the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies
in their first shew thriue, these foure will change
habites, and present the other fiue
   Ber. There is fiue in the first shew
   Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so
   Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the
Foole, and the Boy,
Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,
Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine
   Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain.
Enter Pompey.
  Clo. I Pompey am
   Ber. You lie, you are not he
   Clo. I Pompey am
   Boy. With Libbards head on knee
   Ber. Well said old mocker,
I must needs be friends with thee
   Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big
   Du. The great
   Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great:
That oft in field, with Targe and Shield,
did make my foe to sweat:
And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance,
And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of
If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done
   La. Great thankes great Pompey
   Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect.
I made a little fault in great
   Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the
best Worthie.
Enter Curate for Alexander.
  Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander:
By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might
My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander
   Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not:
For it stands too right
   Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling
   Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid:
Proceede good Alexander
   Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander
   Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander
   Ber. Pompey the great
   Clo. your seruant and Costard
   Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander
  Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror:
you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for
this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close
stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie.
A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away
for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish
milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht.
He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie
good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a
little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming,
will speake their minde in some other sort.
  Qu. Stand aside good Pompey.
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
  Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe,
Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus,
And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe,
Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus:
Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,
Ergo, I come with this Apologie.
Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.
  Ped. Iudas I am
   Dum. A Iudas?
  Ped. Not Iscariot sir.
Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus
   Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas
   Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?
  Ped. Iudas I am
   Dum. The more shame for you Iudas
   Ped. What meane you sir?
  Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe
   Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder
   Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder
   Ped. I will not be put out of countenance
   Ber. Because thou hast no face
   Ped. What is this?
  Boi. A Citterne head
   Dum. The head of a bodkin
   Ber. A deaths face in a ring
   Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene
   Boi. The pummell of Cæsars Faulchion
   Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske
   Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch
   Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead
   Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.
And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance
  Ped. You haue put me out of countenance
   Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces
   Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all
   Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so
   Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go:
And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?
  Dum. For the latter end of his name
   Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away
   Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble
   Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he
   Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene
Enter Braggart.
  Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
   Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
now be merrie
   King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this
   Boi. But is this Hector?
  Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd
   Lon. His legge is too big for Hector
   Dum. More Calfe certaine
   Boi. No, he is best indued in the small
   Ber. This cannot be Hector
   Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces
   Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
gaue Hector a gift
   Dum. A gilt Nutmegge
   Ber. A Lemmon
   Lon. Stucke with Cloues
   Dum. No clouen
   Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,
Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion;
A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea
From morne till night, out of his Pauillion.
I am that Flower
   Dum. That Mint
   Long. That Cullambine
   Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue
   Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against
   Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound
   Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten,
Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:
But I will forward with my deuice;
Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.
Berowne steppes forth.
  Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted
   Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper
   Boy. Loues her by the foot
   Dum. He may not by the yard
   Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball.
The partie is gone
   Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths
   Brag. What meanest thou?
  Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the
poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags
in her belly alreadie: tis yours
   Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates?
Thou shalt die
   Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that
is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by
   Dum. Most rare Pompey
   Boi. Renowned Pompey
   Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:
Pompey the huge
   Dum. Hector trembles
   Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre
them, or stirre them on
   Dum. Hector will challenge him
   Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then
will sup a Flea
   Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee
   Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man;
Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow
my Armes againe
   Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies
   Clo. Ile do it in my shirt
   Dum. Most resolute Pompey
   Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower:
Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what
meane you? you will lose your reputation
   Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will
not combat in my shirt
   Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the
   Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will
   Ber. What reason haue you for't?
  Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt,
I go woolward for penance
   Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want
of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but
a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his
heart for a fauour.
Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.
  Mar. God saue you Madame
   Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest
our merriment
   Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is
heauie in my tongue. The King your father
  Qu. Dead for my life
   Mar. Euen so: My tale is told
   Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud
   Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I
haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of
discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.
Exeunt. Worthies
  Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?
  Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night
   Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay
   Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords
For all your faire endeuours and entreats:
Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,
In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide,
The liberall opposition of our spirits,
If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues,
In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse
Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord:
A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.
Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes,
For my great suite, so easily obtain'd
   Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes
All causes to the purpose of his speed:
And often at his verie loose decides
That, which long processe could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of progenie
Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue:
The holy suite which faine it would conuince,
Yet since loues argument was first on foote,
Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it
From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost,
Is not by much so wholsome profitable,
As to reioyce at friends but newly found
   Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double
   Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe
And by these badges vnderstand the King,
For your faire sakes haue we neglected time,
Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies
Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors
Euen to the opposed end of our intents.
And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous:
As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,
All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.
Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes
Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule,
To euerie varied obiect in his glance:
Which partie-coated presence of loose loue
Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies,
Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities.
Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults,
Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies
Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes
Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false,
By being once false, for euer to be true
To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you.
And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne,
Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace
   Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue:
Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue.
And in our maiden counsaile rated them,
At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie,
As bumbast and as lining to the time:
But more deuout then these are our respects
Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues
In their owne fashion, like a merriment
   Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest
   Lon. So did our lookes
   Rosa. We did not coat them so
   Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre,
Grant vs your loues
   Qu. A time me thinkes too short,
To make a world-without-end bargaine in:
No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much,
Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this:
If for my Loue (as there is no such cause)
You will do ought, this shall you do for me.
Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed
To some forlorne and naked Hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world:
There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes
Haue brought about their annuall reckoning.
If this austere insociable life,
Change not your offer made in heate of blood:
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue,
But that it beare this triall, and last loue:
Then at the expiration of the yeare,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine,
I will be thine: and till that instant shut
My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house,
Raining the teares of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my Fathers death.
If this thou do denie, let our hands part,
Neither intitled in the others hart
   Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie,
To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest,
The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie.
Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest
   Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?
  Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd.
You are attaint with faults and periurie:
Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,
A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest,
But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke
   Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?
  Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie,
With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three
   Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?
  Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day,
Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say.
Come when the King doth to my Ladie come:
Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some
   Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then
   Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen
   Lon. What saies Maria?
  Mari. At the tweluemonths end,
Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend
   Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long
   Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong
   Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eie:
What humble suite attends thy answer there,
Impose some seruice on me for my loue
   Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue
Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,
Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes:
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercie of your wit.
To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine,
And therewithall to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won:
You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day,
Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse
With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be,
With all the fierce endeuour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile
   Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?
It cannot be, it is impossible.
Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie
   Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles:
A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare
Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares,
Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones,
Will heare your idle scornes; continue then,
And I will haue you, and that fault withall.
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shal finde you emptie of that fault,
Right ioyfull of your reformation
   Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall,
Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall
   Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue
   King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way
   Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play:
Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie
Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie
   Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day,
And then 'twil end
   Ber. That's too long for a play.
Enter Braggart.
  Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me
   Qu. Was not that Hector?
  Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy
   Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue.
I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the
Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed
greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two
Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and
the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our
   Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so
   Brag. Holla, Approach.
This side is Hiems, Winter.
This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle,
Th' other by the Cuckow.
When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,
And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew:
And Ladie-smockes all siluer white,
Do paint the Medowes with delight.
The Cuckow then on euerie tree,
Mockes married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare.
When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes,
And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes:
When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes,
And Maidens bleach their summer smockes:
The Cuckow then on euerie tree
Mockes married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Vnpleasing to a married eare
   Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall,
And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile;
And Tom beares Logges into the hall,
And Milke comes frozen home in paile:
When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle
Tuwhit towho.
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.
When all aloud the winde doth blow,
And coffing drownes the Parsons saw:
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:
When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle,
Then nightly sings the staring Owle,
Tuwhit towho:
A merrie note,
While greasie Ione doth keele the pot
   Brag. The Words of Mercurie,
Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:
You that way; we this way.
Exeunt. omnes.
FINIS. Loues Labour's lost.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The life and death of King John
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter King Iohn, Queene Elinor, Pembroke, Essex, and Salisbury,
Chattylion of France.
  King Iohn. Now say Chatillion, what would France with vs?
  Chat. Thus (after greeting) speakes the King
In my behauiour to the Maiesty,
The borrowed Maiesty of England heere
   Elea. A strange beginning: borrowed Maiesty?
  K.Iohn. Silence (good mother) heare the Embassie
   Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalfe
Of thy deceased brother, Geffreyes sonne,
Arthur Plantaginet, laies most lawfull claime
To this faire Iland, and the Territories:
To Ireland, Poyctiers, Aniowe, Torayne, Maine,
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword
Which swaies vsurpingly these seuerall titles,
And put the same into yong Arthurs hand,
Thy Nephew, and right royall Soueraigne
   K.Iohn. What followes if we disallow of this?
  Chat. The proud controle of fierce and bloudy warre,
To inforce these rights, so forcibly with-held,
  K.Io. Heere haue we war for war, & bloud for bloud,
Controlement for controlement: so answer France
   Chat. Then take my Kings defiance from my mouth,
The farthest limit of my Embassie
   K.Iohn. Beare mine to him, and so depart in peace,
Be thou as lightning in the eies of France;
For ere thou canst report, I will be there:
The thunder of my Cannon shall be heard.
So hence: be thou the trumpet of our wrath,
And sullen presage of your owne decay:
An honourable conduct let him haue,
Pembroke looke too't: farewell Chattillion.
Exit Chat. and Pem.
  Ele. What now my sonne, haue I not euer said
How that ambitious Constance would not cease
Till she had kindled France and all the world,
Vpon the right and party of her sonne.
This might haue beene preuented, and made whole
With very easie arguments of loue,
Which now the mannage of two kingdomes must
With fearefull bloudy issue arbitrate
   K.Iohn. Our strong possession, and our right for vs
   Eli. Your strong possessio[n] much more then your right,
Or else it must go wrong with you and me,
So much my conscience whispers in your eare,
Which none but heauen, and you, and I, shall heare.
Enter a Sheriffe.
  Essex. My Liege, here is the strangest controuersie
Come from the Country to be iudg'd by you
That ere I heard: shall I produce the men?
  K.Iohn. Let them approach:
Our Abbies and our Priories shall pay
This expeditions charge: what men are you?
Enter Robert Faulconbridge, and Philip.
  Philip. Your faithfull subiect, I a gentleman,
Borne in Northamptonshire, and eldest sonne
As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge,
A Souldier by the Honor-giuing-hand
Of Cordelion, Knighted in the field
   K.Iohn. What art thou?
  Robert. The son and heire to that same Faulconbridge
   K.Iohn. Is that the elder, and art thou the heyre?
You came not of one mother then it seemes
   Philip. Most certain of one mother, mighty King,
That is well knowne, and as I thinke one father:
But for the certaine knowledge of that truth,
I put you o're to heauen, and to my mother;
Of that I doubt, as all mens children may
   Eli. Out on thee rude man, y dost shame thy mother,
And wound her honor with this diffidence
   Phil. I Madame? No, I haue no reason for it,
That is my brothers plea, and none of mine,
The which if he can proue, a pops me out,
At least from faire fiue hundred pound a yeere:
Heauen guard my mothers honor, and my Land
   K.Iohn. A good blunt fellow: why being yonger born
Doth he lay claime to thine inheritance?
  Phil. I know not why, except to get the land:
But once he slanderd me with bastardy:
But where I be as true begot or no,
That still I lay vpon my mothers head,
But that I am as well begot my Liege
(Faire fall the bones that tooke the paines for me)
Compare our faces, and be Iudge your selfe
If old Sir Robert did beget vs both,
And were our father, and this sonne like him:
O old sir Robert Father, on my knee
I giue heauen thankes I was not like to thee
   K.Iohn. Why what a mad-cap hath heauen lent vs here?
  Elen. He hath a tricke of Cordelions face,
The accent of his tongue affecteth him:
Doe you not read some tokens of my sonne
In the large composition of this man?
  K.Iohn. Mine eye hath well examined his parts,
And findes them perfect Richard: sirra speake,
What doth moue you to claime your brothers land
   Philip. Because he hath a half-face like my father?
With halfe that face would he haue all my land,
A halfe-fac'd groat, fiue hundred pound a yeere?
  Rob. My gracious Liege, when that my father liu'd,
Your brother did imploy my father much
   Phil. Well sir, by this you cannot get my land,
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother
   Rob. And once dispatch'd him in an Embassie
To Germany, there with the Emperor
To treat of high affaires touching that time:
Th' aduantage of his absence tooke the King,
And in the meane time soiourn'd at my fathers;
Where how he did preuaile, I shame to speake:
But truth is truth, large lengths of seas and shores
Betweene my father, and my mother lay,
As I haue heard my father speake himselfe
When this same lusty gentleman was got:
Vpon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd
His lands to me, and tooke it on his death
That this my mothers sonne was none of his;
And if he were, he came into the world
Full fourteene weekes before the course of time:
Then good my Liedge let me haue what is mine,
My fathers land, as was my fathers will
   K.Iohn. Sirra, your brother is Legittimate,
Your fathers wife did after wedlocke beare him:
And if she did play false, the fault was hers,
Which fault lyes on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wiues: tell me, how if my brother
Who as you say, tooke paines to get this sonne,
Had of your father claim'd this sonne for his,
Insooth, good friend, your father might haue kept
This Calfe, bred from his Cow from all the world:
Insooth he might: then if he were my brothers,
My brother might not claime him, nor your father
Being none of his, refuse him: this concludes,
My mothers sonne did get your fathers heyre,
Your fathers heyre must haue your fathers land
   Rob. Shal then my fathers Will be of no force,
To dispossesse that childe which is not his
   Phil. Of no more force to dispossesse me sir,
Then was his will to get me, as I think
   Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge,
And like thy brother to enioy thy land:
Or the reputed sonne of Cordelion,
Lord of thy presence, and no land beside
   Bast. Madam, and if my brother had my shape
And I had his, sir Roberts his like him,
And if my legs were two such riding rods,
My armes, such eele skins stuft, my face so thin,
That in mine eare I durst not sticke a rose,
Lest men should say, looke where three farthings goes,
And to his shape were heyre to all this land,
Would I might neuer stirre from off this place,
I would giue it euery foot to haue this face:
It would not be sir nobbe in any case
   Elinor. I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?
I am a Souldier, and now bound to France
   Bast. Brother, take you my land, Ile take my chance;
Your face hath got fiue hundred pound a yeere,
Yet sell your face for fiue pence and 'tis deere:
Madam, Ile follow you vnto the death
   Elinor. Nay, I would haue you go before me thither
   Bast. Our Country manners giue our betters way
   K.Iohn. What is thy name?
  Bast. Philip my Liege, so is my name begun,
Philip, good old Sir Roberts wiues eldest sonne
   K.Iohn. From henceforth beare his name
Whose forme thou bearest:
Kneele thou downe Philip, but rise more great,
Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet
   Bast. Brother by th' mothers side, giue me your hand,
My father gaue me honor, yours gaue land:
Now blessed be the houre by night or day
When I was got, Sir Robert was away
   Ele. The very spirit of Plantaginet:
I am thy grandame Richard, call me so
   Bast. Madam by chance, but not by truth, what tho;
Something about a little from the right,
In at the window, or else ore the hatch:
Who dares not stirre by day, must walke by night,
And haue is haue, how euer men doe catch:
Neere or farre off, well wonne is still well shot,
And I am I, how ere I was begot
   K.Iohn. Goe, Faulconbridge, now hast thou thy desire,
A landlesse Knight, makes thee a landed Squire:
Come Madam, and come Richard, we must speed
For France, for France, for it is more then need
   Bast. Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee,
For thou wast got i'th way of honesty.
Exeunt. all but bastard.
  Bast. A foot of Honor better then I was,
But many a many foot of Land the worse.
Well, now can I make any Ioane a Lady,
Good den Sir Richard, Godamercy fellow,
And if his name be George, Ile call him Peter;
For new made honor doth forget mens names:
'Tis two respectiue, and too sociable
For your conuersion, now your traueller,
Hee and his tooth-picke at my worships messe,
And when my knightly stomacke is suffis'd,
Why then I sucke my teeth, and catechize
My picked man of Countries: my deare sir,
Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin,
I shall beseech you; that is question now,
And then comes answer like an Absey booke:
O sir, sayes answer, at your best command,
At your employment, at your seruice sir:
No sir, saies question, I sweet sir at yours,
And so ere answer knowes what question would,
Sauing in Dialogue of Complement,
And talking of the Alpes and Appenines,
The Perennean and the riuer Poe,
It drawes toward supper in conclusion so.
But this is worshipfull society,
And fits the mounting spirit like my selfe;
For he is but a bastard to the time
That doth not smoake of obseruation,
And so am I whether I smacke or no:
And not alone in habit and deuice,
Exterior forme, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliuer
Sweet, sweet, sweet poyson for the ages tooth,
Which though I will not practice to deceiue,
Yet to auoid deceit I meane to learne;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising:
But who comes in such haste in riding robes?
What woman post is this? hath she no husband
That will take paines to blow a horne before her?
O me, 'tis my mother: how now good Lady,
What brings you heere to Court so hastily?
Enter Lady Faulconbridge and Iames Gurney.
  Lady. Where is that slaue thy brother? where is he?
That holds in chase mine honour vp and downe
   Bast. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts sonne:
Colbrand the Gyant, that same mighty man,
Is it Sir Roberts sonne that you seeke so?
  Lady. Sir Roberts sonne, I thou vnreuerend boy,
Sir Roberts sonne? why scorn'st thou at sir Robert?
He is Sir Roberts sonne, and so art thou
   Bast. Iames Gournie, wilt thou giue vs leaue a while?
  Gour. Good leaue good Philip
   Bast. Philip, sparrow, Iames,
There's toyes abroad, anon Ile tell thee more.
Madam, I was not old Sir Roberts sonne,
Sir Robert might haue eat his part in me
Vpon good Friday, and nere broke his fast:
Sir Robert could doe well, marrie to confesse
Could get me sir Robert could not doe it;
We know his handy-worke, therefore good mother
To whom am I beholding for these limmes?
Sir Robert neuer holpe to make this legge
   Lady. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,
That for thine owne gaine shouldst defend mine honor?
What meanes this scorne, thou most vntoward knaue?
  Bast. Knight, knight good mother, Basilisco-like:
What, I am dub'd, I haue it on my shoulder:
But mother, I am not Sir Roberts sonne,
I haue disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land,
Legitimation, name, and all is gone;
Then good my mother, let me know my father,
Some proper man I hope, who was it mother?
  Lady. Hast thou denied thy selfe a Faulconbridge?
  Bast. As faithfully as I denie the deuill
   Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy father,
By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd
To make roome for him in my husbands bed:
Heauen lay not my transgression to my charge,
That art the issue of my deere offence
Which was so strongly vrg'd past my defence
   Bast. Now by this light were I to get againe,
Madam I would not wish a better father:
Some sinnes doe beare their priuiledge on earth,
And so doth yours: your fault, was not your follie,
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,
Subiected tribute to commanding loue,
Against whose furie and vnmatched force,
The awlesse Lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keepe his Princely heart from Richards hand:
He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts,
May easily winne a womans: aye my mother,
With all my heart I thanke thee for my father:
Who liues and dares but say, thou didst not well
When I was got, Ile send his soule to hell.
Come Lady I will shew thee to my kinne,
And they shall say, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadst sayd him nay, it had beene sinne;
Who sayes it was, he lyes, I say twas not.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Daulphin,
Constance, Arthur.
  Lewis. Before Angiers well met braue Austria,
Arthur that great fore-runner of thy bloud,
Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart,
And fought the holy Warres in Palestine,
By this braue Duke came early to his graue:
And for amends to his posteritie,
At our importance hether is he come,
To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe,
And to rebuke the vsurpation
Of thy vnnaturall Vncle, English Iohn,
Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether
   Arth. God shall forgiue you Cordelions death
The rather, that you giue his off-spring life,
Shadowing their right vnder your wings of warre:
I giue you welcome with a powerlesse hand,
But with a heart full of vnstained loue,
Welcome before the gates Angiers Duke
   Lewis. A noble boy, who would not doe thee right?
  Aust. Vpon thy cheeke lay I this zelous kisse,
As seale to this indenture of my loue:
That to my home I will no more returne
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,
Whose foot spurnes backe the Oceans roaring tides,
And coopes from other lands her Ilanders,
Euen till that England hedg'd in with the maine,
That Water-walled Bulwarke, still secure
And confident from forreine purposes,
Euen till that vtmost corner of the West
Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy
Will I not thinke of home, but follow Armes
   Const. O take his mothers thanks, a widdows thanks,
Till your strong hand shall helpe to giue him strength,
To make a more requitall to your loue
   Aust. The peace of heauen is theirs y lift their swords
In such a iust and charitable warre
   King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bent
Against the browes of this resisting towne,
Call for our cheefest men of discipline,
To cull the plots of best aduantages:
Wee'll lay before this towne our Royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in French-mens bloud,
But we will make it subiect to this boy
   Con. Stay for an answer to your Embassie,
Lest vnaduis'd you staine your swords with bloud,
My Lord Chattilion may from England bring
That right in peace which heere we vrge in warre,
And then we shall repent each drop of bloud,
That hot rash haste so indirectly shedde.
Enter Chattilion.
  King. A wonder Lady: lo vpon thy wish
Our Messenger Chattilion is arriu'd,
What England saies, say breefely gentle Lord,
We coldly pause for thee, Chatilion speake,
  Chat. Then turne your forces from this paltry siege,
And stirre them vp against a mightier taske:
England impatient of your iust demands,
Hath put himselfe in Armes, the aduerse windes
Whose leisure I haue staid, haue giuen him time
To land his Legions all as soone as I:
His marches are expedient to this towne,
His forces strong, his Souldiers confident:
With him along is come the Mother Queene,
An Ace stirring him to bloud and strife,
With her her Neece, the Lady Blanch of Spaine,
With them a Bastard of the Kings deceast,
And all th' vnsetled humors of the Land,
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With Ladies faces, and fierce Dragons spleenes,
Haue sold their fortunes at their natiue homes,
Bearing their birth-rights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes heere:
In briefe, a brauer choyse of dauntlesse spirits
Then now the English bottomes haue waft o're,
Did neuer flote vpon the swelling tide,
To doe offence and scathe in Christendome:
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance, they are at hand,
To parlie or to fight, therefore prepare
   Kin. How much vnlook'd for, is this expedition
   Aust. By how much vnexpected, by so much
We must awake indeuor for defence,
For courage mounteth with occasion,
Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd.
Enter K[ing]. of England, Bastard, Queene, Blanch, Pembroke, and
  K.Iohn. Peace be to France: If France in peace permit
Our iust and lineall entrance to our owne;
If not, bleede France, and peace ascend to heauen.
Whiles we Gods wrathfull agent doe correct
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heauen
   Fran. Peace be to England, if that warre returne
From France to England, there to liue in peace:
England we loue, and for that Englands sake,
With burden of our armor heere we sweat:
This toyle of ours should be a worke of thine;
But thou from louing England art so farre,
That thou hast vnder-wrought his lawfull King,
Cut off the sequence of posterity,
Out-faced Infant State, and done a rape
Vpon the maiden vertue of the Crowne:
Looke heere vpon thy brother Geffreyes face,
These eyes, these browes, were moulded out of his;
This little abstract doth containe that large,
Which died in Geffrey: and the hand of time,
Shall draw this breefe into as huge a volume:
That Geffrey was thy elder brother borne,
And this his sonne, England was Geffreys right,
And this is Geffreyes in the name of God:
How comes it then that thou art call'd a King,
When liuing blood doth in these temples beat
Which owe the crowne, that thou ore-masterest?
  K.Iohn. From whom hast thou this great commission France,
To draw my answer from thy Articles?
  Fra. Fro[m] that supernal Iudge that stirs good thoughts
In any breast of strong authoritie,
To looke into the blots and staines of right,
That Iudge hath made me guardian to this boy,
Vnder whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,
And by whose helpe I meane to chastise it
   K.Iohn. Alack thou dost vsurpe authoritie
   Fran. Excuse it is to beat vsurping downe
   Queen. Who is it thou dost call vsurper France?
  Const. Let me make answer: thy vsurping sonne
   Queen. Out insolent, thy bastard shall be King,
That thou maist be a Queen, and checke the world
   Con. My bed was euer to thy sonne as true
As thine was to thy husband, and this boy
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey
Then thou and Iohn, in manners being as like,
As raine to water, or deuill to his damme;
My boy a bastard? by my soule I thinke
His father neuer was so true begot,
It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother
   Queen. Theres a good mother boy, that blots thy father
  Const. There's a good grandame boy
That would blot thee
   Aust. Peace
   Bast. Heare the Cryer
   Aust. What the deuill art thou?
  Bast. One that wil play the deuill sir with you,
And a may catch your hide and you alone:
You are the Hare of whom the Prouerb goes
Whose valour plucks dead Lyons by the beard;
Ile smoake your skin-coat and I catch you right,
Sirra looke too't, yfaith I will, yfaith
   Blan. O well did he become that Lyons robe,
That did disrobe the Lion of that robe
   Bast. It lies as sightly on the backe of him
As great Alcides shooes vpon an Asse:
But Asse, Ile take that burthen from your backe,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders cracke
   Aust. What cracker is this same that deafes our eares
With this abundance of superfluous breath?
King Lewis, determine what we shall doe strait
   Lew. Women & fooles, breake off your conference.
King Iohn, this is the very summe of all:
England and Ireland, Angiers, Toraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur doe I claime of thee:
Wilt thou resigne them, and lay downe thy Armes?
  Iohn. My life as soone: I doe defie thee France,
Arthur of Britaine, yeeld thee to my hand,
And out of my deere loue Ile giue thee more,
Then ere the coward hand of France can win;
Submit thee boy
   Queen. Come to thy grandame child
   Cons. Doe childe, goe to yt grandame childe,
Giue grandame kingdome, and it grandame will
Giue yt a plum, a cherry, and a figge,
There's a good grandame
   Arthur. Good my mother peace,
I would that I were low laid in my graue,
I am not worth this coyle that's made for me
   Qu.Mo. His mother shames him so, poore boy hee weepes
   Con. Now shame vpon you where she does or no,
His grandames wrongs, and not his mothers shames
Drawes those heauen-mouing pearles fro[m] his poor eies,
Which heauen shall take in nature of a fee:
I, with these Christall beads heauen shall be brib'd
To doe him Iustice, and reuenge on you
   Qu. Thou monstrous slanderer of heauen and earth
   Con. Thou monstrous Iniurer of heauen and earth,
Call not me slanderer, thou and thine vsurpe
The Dominations, Royalties, and rights
Of this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest sonnes sonne,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee:
Thy sinnes are visited in this poore childe,
The Canon of the Law is laide on him,
Being but the second generation
Remoued from thy sinne-conceiuing wombe
   Iohn. Bedlam haue done
   Con. I haue but this to say,
That he is not onely plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sinne and her, the plague
On this remoued issue, plagued for her,
And with her plague her sinne: his iniury
Her iniurie the Beadle to her sinne,
All punish'd in the person of this childe,
And all for her, a plague vpon her
   Que. Thou vnaduised scold, I can produce
A Will, that barres the title of thy sonne
   Con. I who doubts that, a Will: a wicked will,
A womans will, a cankred Grandams will
   Fra. Peace Lady, pause, or be more temperate,
It ill beseemes this presence to cry ayme
To these ill-tuned repetitions:
Some Trumpet summon hither to the walles
These men of Angiers, let vs heare them speake,
Whose title they admit, Arthurs or Iohns.
Trumpet sounds. Enter a Citizen vpon the walles.
  Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd vs to the walles?
  Fra. 'Tis France, for England
   Iohn. England for it selfe:
You men of Angiers, and my louing subiects
   Fra. You louing men of Angiers, Arthurs subiects,
Our Trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle
   Iohn. For our aduantage, therefore heare vs first:
These flagges of France that are aduanced heere
Before the eye and prospect of your Towne,
Haue hither march'd to your endamagement.
The Canons haue their bowels full of wrath,
And ready mounted are they to spit forth
Their Iron indignation 'gainst your walles:
All preparation for a bloody siedge
And merciles proceeding, by these French.
Comfort your Citties eies, your winking gates:
And but for our approch, those sleeping stones,
That as a waste doth girdle you about
By the compulsion of their Ordinance,
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had bin dishabited, and wide hauocke made
For bloody power to rush vppon your peace.
But on the sight of vs your lawfull King,
Who painefully with much expedient march
Haue brought a counter-checke before your gates,
To saue vnscratch'd your Citties threatned cheekes:
Behold the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle,
And now insteed of bulletts wrapt in fire
To make a shaking feuer in your walles,
They shoote but calme words, folded vp in smoake,
To make a faithlesse errour in your eares,
Which trust accordingly kinde Cittizens,
And let vs in. Your King, whose labour'd spirits
Fore-wearied in this action of swift speede,
Craues harbourage within your Citie walles
   France. When I haue saide, make answer to vs both.
Loe in this right hand, whose protection
Is most diuinely vow'd vpon the right
Of him it holds, stands yong Plantagenet,
Sonne to the elder brother of this man,
And King ore him, and all that he enioyes:
For this downe-troden equity, we tread
In warlike march, these greenes before your Towne,
Being no further enemy to you
Then the constraint of hospitable zeale,
In the releefe of this oppressed childe,
Religiously prouokes. Be pleased then
To pay that dutie which you truly owe,
To him that owes it, namely, this yong Prince,
And then our Armes, like to a muzled Beare,
Saue in aspect, hath all offence seal'd vp:
Our Cannons malice vainly shall be spent
Against th' involnerable clouds of heauen,
And with a blessed and vn-vext retyre,
With vnhack'd swords, and Helmets all vnbruis'd,
We will beare home that lustie blood againe,
Which heere we came to spout against your Towne,
And leaue your children, wiues, and you in peace.
But if you fondly passe our proffer'd offer,
'Tis not the rounder of your old-fac'd walles,
Can hide you from our messengers of Warre,
Though all these English, and their discipline
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference:
Then tell vs, Shall your Citie call vs Lord,
In that behalfe which we haue challeng'd it?
Or shall we giue the signall to our rage,
And stalke in blood to our possession?
  Cit. In breefe, we are the King of Englands subiects
For him, and in his right, we hold this Towne
   Iohn. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in
   Cit. That can we not: but he that proues the King
To him will we proue loyall, till that time
Haue we ramm'd vp our gates against the world
   Iohn. Doth not the Crowne of England, prooue the
And if not that, I bring you Witnesses
Twice fifteene thousand hearts of Englands breed
   Bast. Bastards and else
   Iohn. To verifie our title with their liues
   Fran. As many and as well-borne bloods as those
   Bast. Some Bastards too
   Fran. Stand in his face to contradict his claime
   Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We for the worthiest hold the right from both
   Iohn. Then God forgiue the sinne of all those soules,
That to their euerlasting residence,
Before the dew of euening fall, shall fleete
In dreadfull triall of our kingdomes King
   Fran. Amen, Amen, mount Cheualiers to Armes
   Bast. Saint George that swindg'd the Dragon,
And ere since sit's on's horsebacke at mine Hostesse dore
Teach vs some sence. Sirrah, were I at home
At your den sirrah, with your Lionnesse,
I would set an Oxe-head to your Lyons hide:
And make a monster of you
   Aust. Peace, no more
   Bast. O tremble: for you heare the Lyon rore
   Iohn. Vp higher to the plaine, where we'l set forth
In best appointment all our Regiments
   Bast. Speed then to take aduantage of the field
   Fra. It shall be so, and at the other hill
Command the rest to stand, God and our right.
Heere after excursions, Enter the Herald of France with Trumpets
  F.Her. You men of Angiers open wide your gates,
And let yong Arthur Duke of Britaine in,
Who by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much worke for teares in many an English mother,
Whose sonnes lye scattered on the bleeding ground:
Many a widdowes husband groueling lies,
Coldly embracing the discoloured earth,
And victorie with little losse doth play
Vpon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand triumphantly displayed
To enter Conquerors, and to proclaime
Arthur of Britaine, Englands King, and yours.
Enter English Herald with Trumpet.
  E.Har. Reioyce you men of Angiers, ring your bels,
King Iohn, your king and Englands, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day,
Their Armours that march'd hence so siluer bright,
Hither returne all gilt with Frenchmens blood:
There stucke no plume in any English Crest,
That is remoued by a staffe of France.
Our colours do returne in those same hands
That did display them when we first marcht forth:
And like a iolly troope of Huntsmen come
Our lustie English, all with purpled hands,
Dide in the dying slaughter of their foes,
Open your gates, and giue the Victors way
   Hubert. Heralds, from off our towres we might behold
From first to last, the on-set and retyre:
Of both your Armies, whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured:
Blood hath bought blood, and blowes haue answerd blowes:
Strength matcht with strength, and power confronted
Both are alike, and both alike we like:
One must proue greatest. While they weigh so euen,
We hold our Towne for neither: yet for both.
Enter the two Kings with their powers, at seuerall doores.
  Iohn. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the currant of our right rome on,
Whose passage vext with thy impediment,
Shall leaue his natiue channell, and ore-swell
With course disturb'd euen thy confining shores,
Vnlesse thou let his siluer Water, keepe
A peacefull progresse to the Ocean
   Fra. England thou hast not sau'd one drop of blood
In this hot triall more then we of France,
Rather lost more. And by this hand I sweare
That swayes the earth this Climate ouer-lookes,
Before we will lay downe our iust-borne Armes,
Wee'l put thee downe, 'gainst whom these Armes wee beare,
Or adde a royall number to the dead:
Gracing the scroule that tels of this warres losse,
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings
   Bast. Ha Maiesty: how high thy glory towres,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire:
Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with steele,
The swords of souldiers are his teeth, his phangs,
And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men
In vndetermin'd differences of kings.
Why stand these royall fronts amazed thus:
Cry hauocke kings, backe to the stained field
You equall Potents, fierie kindled spirits,
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The others peace: till then, blowes, blood, and death
   Iohn. Whose party do the Townesmen yet admit?
  Fra. Speake Citizens for England, whose your king
   Hub. The king of England, when we know the king
   Fra. Know him in vs, that heere hold vp his right
   Iohn. In Vs, that are our owne great Deputie,
And beare possession of our Person heere,
Lord of our presence Angiers, and of you
   Fra. A greater powre then We denies all this,
And till it be vndoubted, we do locke
Our former scruple in our strong barr'd gates:
Kings of our feare, vntill our feares resolu'd
Be by some certaine king, purg'd and depos'd
   Bast. By heauen, these scroyles of Angiers flout you kings,
And stand securely on their battelments,
As in a Theater, whence they gape and point
At your industrious Scenes and acts of death.
Your Royall presences be rul'd by mee,
Do like the Mutines of Ierusalem,
Be friends a-while, and both conioyntly bend
Your sharpest Deeds of malice on this Towne.
By East and West let France and England mount.
Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes,
Till their soule-fearing clamours haue braul'd downe
The flintie ribbes of this contemptuous Citie,
I'de play incessantly vpon these Iades,
Euen till vnfenced desolation
Leaue them as naked as the vulgar ayre:
That done, disseuer your vnited strengths,
And part your mingled colours once againe,
Turne face to face, and bloody point to point:
Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy Minion,
To whom in fauour she shall giue the day,
And kisse him with a glorious victory:
How like you this wilde counsell mighty States,
Smackes it not something of the policie
   Iohn. Now by the sky that hangs aboue our heads,
I like it well. France, shall we knit our powres,
And lay this Angiers euen with the ground,
Then after fight who shall be king of it?
  Bast. And if thou hast the mettle of a king,
Being wrong'd as we are by this peeuish Towne:
Turne thou the mouth of thy Artillerie,
As we will ours, against these sawcie walles,
And when that we haue dash'd them to the ground,
Why then defie each other, and pell-mell,
Make worke vpon our selues, for heauen or hell
   Fra. Let it be so: say, where will you assault?
  Iohn. We from the West will send destruction
Into this Cities bosome
   Aust. I from the North
   Fran. Our Thunder from the South,
Shall raine their drift of bullets on this Towne
   Bast. O prudent discipline! From North to South:
Austria and France shoot in each others mouth.
Ile stirre them to it: Come, away, away
   Hub. Heare vs great kings, vouchsafe awhile to stay
And I shall shew you peace, and faire-fac'd league:
Win you this Citie without stroke, or wound,
Rescue those breathing liues to dye in beds,
That heere come sacrifices for the field.
Perseuer not, but heare me mighty kings
   Iohn. Speake on with fauour, we are bent to heare
   Hub. That daughter there of Spaine, the Lady Blanch
Is neere to England, looke vpon the yeeres
Of Lewes the Dolphin, and that louely maid.
If lustie loue should go in quest of beautie,
Where should he finde it fairer, then in Blanch:
If zealous loue should go in search of vertue,
Where should he finde it purer then in Blanch?
If loue ambitious, sought a match of birth,
Whose veines bound richer blood then Lady Blanch?
Such as she is, in beautie, vertue, birth,
Is the yong Dolphin euery way compleat,
If not compleat of, say he is not shee,
And she againe wants nothing, to name want,
If want it be not, that she is not hee.
He is the halfe part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such as shee,
And she a faire diuided excellence,
Whose fulnesse of perfection lyes in him.
O two such siluer currents when they ioyne
Do glorifie the bankes that bound them in:
And two such shores, to two such streames made one,
Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To these two Princes, if you marrie them:
This Vnion shall do more then batterie can
To our fast closed gates: for at this match,
With swifter spleene then powder can enforce
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,
And giue you entrance: but without this match,
The sea enraged is not halfe so deafe,
Lyons more confident, Mountaines and rockes
More free from motion, no not death himselfe
In mortall furie halfe so peremptorie,
As we to keepe this Citie
   Bast. Heeres a stay,
That shakes the rotten carkasse of old death
Out of his ragges. Here's a large mouth indeede,
That spits forth death, and mountaines, rockes, and seas,
Talkes as familiarly of roaring Lyons,
As maids of thirteene do of puppi-dogges.
What Cannoneere begot this lustie blood,
He speakes plaine Cannon fire, and smoake, and bounce,
He giues the bastinado with his tongue:
Our eares are cudgel'd, not a word of his
But buffets better then a fist of France:
Zounds, I was neuer so bethumpt with words,
Since I first cal'd my brothers father Dad
   Old Qu. Son, list to this coniunction, make this match
Giue with our Neece a dowrie large enough,
For by this knot, thou shalt so surely tye
Thy now vnsur'd assurance to the Crowne,
That yon greene boy shall haue no Sunne to ripe
The bloome that promiseth a mightie fruite.
I see a yeelding in the lookes of France:
Marke how they whisper, vrge them while their soules
Are capeable of this ambition,
Least zeale now melted by the windie breath
Of soft petitions, pittie and remorse,
Coole and congeale againe to what it was
   Hub. Why answer not the double Maiesties,
This friendly treatie of our threatned Towne
   Fra. Speake England first, that hath bin forward first
To speake vnto this Cittie: what say you?
  Iohn. If that the Dolphin there thy Princely sonne,
Can in this booke of beautie read, I loue:
Her Dowrie shall weigh equall with a Queene:
For Angiers, and faire Toraine Maine, Poyctiers,
And all that we vpon this side the Sea,
(Except this Cittie now by vs besiedg'd)
Finde liable to our Crowne and Dignitie,
Shall gild her bridall bed and make her rich
In titles, honors, and promotions,
As she in beautie, education, blood,
Holdes hand with any Princesse of the world
   Fra. What sai'st thou boy? looke in the Ladies face
   Dol. I do my Lord, and in her eie I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of my selfe form'd in her eye,
Which being but the shadow of your sonne,
Becomes a sonne and makes your sonne a shadow:
I do protest I neuer lou'd my selfe
Till now, infixed I beheld my selfe,
Drawne in the flattering table of her eie.
Whispers with Blanch.
  Bast. Drawne in the flattering table of her eie,
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,
And quarter'd in her heart, hee doth espie
Himselfe loues traytor, this is pittie now;
That hang'd, and drawne, and quarter'd there should be
In such a loue, so vile a Lout as he
   Blan. My vnckles will in this respect is mine,
If he see ought in you that makes him like,
That any thing he see's which moues his liking,
I can with ease translate it to my will:
Or if you will, to speake more properly,
I will enforce it easlie to my loue.
Further I will not flatter you, my Lord,
That all I see in you is worthie loue,
Then this, that nothing do I see in you,
Though churlish thoughts themselues should bee your
That I can finde, should merit any hate
   Iohn. What saie these yong-ones? What say you my
  Blan. That she is bound in honor still to do
What you in wisedome still vouchsafe to say
   Iohn. Speake then Prince Dolphin, can you loue this
  Dol. Nay aske me if I can refraine from loue,
For I doe loue her most vnfainedly
   Iohn. Then I doe giue Volquessen, Toraine, Maine,
Poyctiers and Aniow, these fiue Prouinces
With her to thee, and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand Markes of English coyne:
Phillip of France, if thou be pleas'd withall,
Command thy sonne and daughter to ioyne hands
   Fra. It likes vs well young Princes: close your hands
  Aust. And your lippes too, for I am well assur'd,
That I did so when I was first assur'd
   Fra. Now Cittizens of Angires ope your gates,
Let in that amitie which you haue made,
For at Saint Maries Chappell presently,
The rights of marriage shallbe solemniz'd.
Is not the Ladie Constance in this troope?
I know she is not for this match made vp,
Her presence would haue interrupted much.
Where is she and her sonne, tell me, who knowes?
  Dol. She is sad and passionate at your highnes Tent
   Fra. And by my faith, this league that we haue made
Will giue her sadnesse very little cure:
Brother of England, how may we content
This widdow Lady? In her right we came,
Which we God knowes, haue turn'd another way,
To our owne vantage
   Iohn. We will heale vp all,
For wee'l create yong Arthur Duke of Britaine
And Earle of Richmond, and this rich faire Towne
We make him Lord of. Call the Lady Constance,
Some speedy Messenger bid her repaire
To our solemnity: I trust we shall,
(If not fill vp the measure of her will)
Yet in some measure satisfie her so,
That we shall stop her exclamation,
Go we as well as hast will suffer vs,
To this vnlook'd for vnprepared pompe.
  Bast. Mad world, mad kings, mad composition:
Iohn to stop Arthurs Title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part,
And France, whose armour Conscience buckled on,
Whom zeale and charitie brought to the field,
As Gods owne souldier, rounded in the eare,
With that same purpose-changer, that slye diuel,
That Broker, that still breakes the pate of faith,
That dayly breake-vow, he that winnes of all,
Of kings, of beggers, old men, yong men, maids,
Who hauing no externall thing to loose,
But the word Maid, cheats the poore Maide of that.
That smooth-fac'd Gentleman, tickling commoditie,
Commoditie, the byas of the world,
The world, who of it selfe is peysed well,
Made to run euen, vpon euen ground;
Till this aduantage, this vile drawing byas,
This sway of motion, this commoditie,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent.
And this same byas, this Commoditie,
This Bawd, this Broker, this all-changing-word,
Clap'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawne him from his owne determin'd ayd,
From a resolu'd and honourable warre,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And why rayle I on this Commoditie?
But for because he hath not wooed me yet:
Not that I haue the power to clutch my hand,
When his faire Angels would salute my palme,
But for my hand, as vnattempted yet,
Like a poore begger, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a begger, I will raile,
And say there is no sin but to be rich:
And being rich, my vertue then shall be,
To say there is no vice, but beggerie:
Since Kings breake faith vpon commoditie,
Gaine be my Lord, for I will worship thee.
Actus Secundus
Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.
  Con. Gone to be married? Gone to sweare a peace?
False blood to false blood ioyn'd. Gone to be freinds?
Shall Lewis haue Blaunch, and Blaunch those Prouinces?
It is not so, thou hast mispoke, misheard,
Be well aduis'd, tell ore thy tale againe.
It cannot be, thou do'st but say 'tis so.
I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word
Is but the vaine breath of a common man:
Beleeue me, I doe not beleeue thee man,
I haue a Kings oath to the contrarie.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sicke, and capeable of feares,
Opprest with wrongs, and therefore full of feares,
A widdow, husbandles, subiect to feares,
A woman naturally borne to feares;
And though thou now confesse thou didst but iest
With my vext spirits, I cannot take a Truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou meane by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou looke so sadly on my sonne?
What meanes that hand vpon that breast of thine?
Why holdes thine eie that lamentable rhewme,
Like a proud riuer peering ore his bounds?
Be these sad signes confirmers of thy words?
Then speake againe, not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true
   Sal. As true as I beleeue you thinke them false,
That giue you cause to proue my saying true
   Con. Oh if thou teach me to beleeue this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow, how to make me dye,
And let beleefe, and life encounter so,
As doth the furie of two desperate men,
Which in the very meeting fall, and dye.
Lewes marry Blaunch? O boy, then where art thou?
France friend with England, what becomes of me?
Fellow be gone: I cannot brooke thy sight,
This newes hath made thee a most vgly man
   Sal. What other harme haue I good Lady done,
But spoke the harme, that is by others done?
  Con. Which harme within it selfe so heynous is,
As it makes harmefull all that speake of it
   Ar. I do beseech you Madam be content
   Con. If thou that bidst me be content, wert grim
Vgly, and slandrous to thy Mothers wombe,
Full of vnpleasing blots, and sightlesse staines,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,
Patch'd with foule Moles, and eye-offending markes,
I would not care, I then would be content,
For then I should not loue thee: no, nor thou
Become thy great birth, nor deserue a Crowne.
But thou art faire, and at thy birth (deere boy)
Nature and Fortune ioyn'd to make thee great.
Of Natures guifts, thou mayst with Lillies boast,
And with the halfe-blowne Rose. But Fortune, oh,
She is corrupted, chang'd, and wonne from thee,
Sh' adulterates hourely with thine Vnckle Iohn,
And with her golden hand hath pluckt on France
To tread downe faire respect of Soueraigntie,
And made his Maiestie the bawd to theirs.
France is a Bawd to Fortune, and king Iohn,
That strumpet Fortune, that vsurping Iohn:
Tell me thou fellow, is not France forsworne?
Envenom him with words, or get thee gone,
And leaue those woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to vnder-beare
   Sal. Pardon me Madam,
I may not goe without you to the kings
   Con. Thou maist, thou shalt, I will not go with thee,
I will instruct my sorrowes to bee proud,
For greefe is proud, and makes his owner stoope,
To me and to the state of my great greefe,
Lets kings assemble: for my greefe's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firme earth
Can hold it vp: here I and sorrowes sit,
Heere is my Throne bid kings come bow to it.
Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
Enter King Iohn, France, Dolphin, Blanch, Elianor, Philip, Austria,
  Fran. 'Tis true (faire daughter) and this blessed day,
Euer in France shall be kept festiuall:
To solemnize this day the glorious sunne
Stayes in his course, and playes the Alchymist,
Turning with splendor of his precious eye
The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearely course that brings this day about,
Shall neuer see it, but a holy day
   Const. A wicked day, and not a holy day.
What hath this day deseru'd? what hath it done,
That it in golden letters should be set
Among the high tides in the Kalender?
Nay, rather turne this day out of the weeke,
This day of shame, oppression, periury.
Or if it must stand still, let wiues with childe
Pray that their burthens may not fall this day,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crost:
But (on this day) let Sea-men feare no wracke,
No bargaines breake that are not this day made;
This day all things begun, come to ill end,
Yea, faith it selfe to hollow falshood change
   Fra. By heauen Lady, you shall haue no cause
To curse the faire proceedings of this day:
Haue I not pawn'd to you my Maiesty?
  Const. You haue beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Resembling Maiesty, which being touch'd and tride,
Proues valuelesse: you are forsworne, forsworne,
You came in Armes to spill mine enemies bloud,
But now in Armes, you strengthen it with yours.
The grapling vigor, and rough frowne of Warre
Is cold in amitie, and painted peace,
And our oppression hath made vp this league:
Arme, arme, you heauens, against these periur'd Kings,
A widdow cries, be husband to me (heauens)
Let not the howres of this vngodly day
Weare out the daies in Peace; but ere Sun-set,
Set armed discord 'twixt these periur'd Kings,
Heare me, Oh, heare me
   Aust. Lady Constance, peace
   Const. War, war, no peace, peace is to me a warre:
O Lymoges, O Austria, thou dost shame
That bloudy spoyle: thou slaue, thou wretch, y coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villanie,
Thou euer strong vpon the stronger side;
Thou Fortunes Champion, that do'st neuer fight
But when her humourous Ladiship is by
To teach thee safety: thou art periur'd too,
And sooth'st vp greatnesse. What a foole art thou,
A ramping foole, to brag, and stamp, and sweare,
Vpon my partie: thou cold blooded slaue,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side?
Beene sworne my Souldier, bidding me depend
Vpon thy starres, thy fortune, and thy strength,
And dost thou now fall ouer to my foes?
Thou weare a Lyons hide, doff it for shame,
And hang a Calues skin on those recreant limbes
   Aus. O that a man should speake those words to me
   Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs
  Aus. Thou dar'st not say so villaine for thy life
   Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs
   Iohn. We like not this, thou dost forget thy selfe.
Enter Pandulph.
  Fra. Heere comes the holy Legat of the Pope
   Pan. Haile you annointed deputies of heauen;
To thee King Iohn my holy errand is:
I Pandulph, of faire Millane Cardinall,
And from Pope Innocent the Legate heere,
Doe in his name religiously demand
Why thou against the Church, our holy Mother,
So wilfully dost spurne; and force perforce
Keepe Stephen Langton chosen Archbishop
Of Canterbury from that holy Sea:
This in our foresaid holy Fathers name
Pope Innocent, I doe demand of thee
   Iohn. What earthie name to Interrogatories
Can tast the free breath of a sacred King?
Thou canst not (Cardinall) deuise a name
So slight, vnworthy, and ridiculous
To charge me to an answere, as the Pope:
Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England,
Adde thus much more, that no Italian Priest
Shall tythe or toll in our dominions:
But as we, vnder heauen, are supreame head,
So vnder him that great supremacy
Where we doe reigne, we will alone vphold
Without th' assistance of a mortall hand:
So tell the Pope, all reuerence set apart
To him and his vsurp'd authoritie
   Fra. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this
   Iohn. Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom
Are led so grossely by this medling Priest,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out,
And by the merit of vilde gold, drosse, dust,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
Who in that sale sels pardon from himselfe:
Though you, and al the rest so grossely led,
This iugling witchcraft with reuennue cherish,
Yet I alone, alone doe me oppose
Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes
   Pand. Then by the lawfull power that I haue,
Thou shalt stand curst, and excommunicate,
And blessed shall he be that doth reuolt
From his Allegeance to an heretique,
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd,
Canonized and worship'd as a Saint,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hatefull life
   Con. O lawfull let it be
That I haue roome with Rome to curse a while,
Good Father Cardinall, cry thou Amen
To my keene curses; for without my wrong
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right
   Pan. There's Law and Warrant (Lady) for my curse
   Cons. And for mine too, when Law can do no right.
Let it be lawfull, that Law barre no wrong:
Law cannot giue my childe his kingdome heere;
For he that holds his Kingdome, holds the Law:
Therefore since Law it selfe is perfect wrong,
How can the Law forbid my tongue to curse?
  Pand. Philip of France, on perill of a curse,
Let goe the hand of that Arch-heretique,
And raise the power of France vpon his head,
Vnlesse he doe submit himselfe to Rome
   Elea. Look'st thou pale France? do not let go thy hand
   Con. Looke to that Deuill, lest that France repent,
And by disioyning hands hell lose a soule
   Aust. King Philip, listen to the Cardinall
   Bast. And hang a Calues-skin on his recreant limbs
   Aust. Well ruffian, I must pocket vp these wrongs,
  Bast. Your breeches best may carry them
   Iohn. Philip, what saist thou to the Cardinall?
  Con. What should he say, but as the Cardinall?
  Dolph. Bethinke you father, for the difference
Is purchase of a heauy curse from Rome,
Or the light losse of England, for a friend:
Forgoe the easier
   Bla. That's the curse of Rome
   Con. O Lewis, stand fast, the deuill tempts thee heere
In likenesse of a new vntrimmed Bride
   Bla. The Lady Constance speakes not from her faith,
But from her need
   Con. Oh, if thou grant my need,
Which onely liues but by the death of faith,
That need, must needs inferre this principle,
That faith would liue againe by death of need:
O then tread downe my need, and faith mounts vp,
Keepe my need vp, and faith is trodden downe
   Iohn. The king is moud, and answers not to this
   Con. O be remou'd from him, and answere well
   Aust. Doe so king Philip, hang no more in doubt
   Bast. Hang nothing but a Calues skin most sweet lout
   Fra. I am perplext, and know not what to say
   Pan. What canst thou say, but wil perplex thee more?
If thou stand excommunicate, and curst?
  Fra. Good reuerend father, make my person yours,
And tell me how you would bestow your selfe?
This royall hand and mine are newly knit,
And the coniunction of our inward soules
Married in league, coupled, and link'd together
With all religous strength of sacred vowes,
The latest breath that gaue the sound of words
Was deepe-sworne faith, peace, amity, true loue
Betweene our kingdomes and our royall selues,
And euen before this truce, but new before,
No longer then we well could wash our hands,
To clap this royall bargaine vp of peace,
Heauen knowes they were besmear'd and ouer-staind
With slaughters pencill; where reuenge did paint
The fearefull difference of incensed kings:
And shall these hands so lately purg'd of bloud?
So newly ioyn'd in loue? so strong in both,
Vnyoke this seysure, and this kinde regreete?
Play fast and loose with faith? so iest with heauen,
Make such vnconstant children of our selues
As now againe to snatch our palme from palme:
Vn-sweare faith sworne, and on the marriage bed
Of smiling peace to march a bloody hoast,
And make a ryot on the gentle brow
Of true sincerity? O holy Sir
My reuerend father, let it not be so;
Out of your grace, deuise, ordaine, impose
Some gentle order, and then we shall be blest
To doe your pleasure, and continue friends
   Pand. All forme is formelesse, Order orderlesse,
Saue what is opposite to Englands loue.
Therefore to Armes, be Champion of our Church,
Or let the Church our mother breathe her curse,
A mothers curse, on her reuolting sonne:
France, thou maist hold a serpent by the tongue,
A cased Lion by the mortall paw,
A fasting Tyger safer by the tooth,
Then keepe in peace that hand which thou dost hold
   Fra. I may dis-ioyne my hand, but not my faith
   Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith,
And like a ciuill warre setst oath to oath,
Thy tongue against thy tongue. O let thy vow
First made to heauen, first be to heauen perform'd,
That is, to be the Champion of our Church,
What since thou sworst, is sworne against thy selfe,
And may not be performed by thy selfe,
For that which thou hast sworne to doe amisse,
Is not amisse when it is truely done:
And being not done, where doing tends to ill,
The truth is then most done not doing it:
The better Act of purposes mistooke,
Is to mistake again, though indirect,
Yet indirection thereby growes direct,
And falshood, falshood cures, as fire cooles fire
Within the scorched veines of one new burn'd:
It is religion that doth make vowes kept,
But thou hast sworne against religion:
By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st,
And mak'st an oath the suretie for thy truth,
Against an oath the truth, thou art vnsure
To sweare, sweares onely not to be forsworne,
Else what a mockerie should it be to sweare?
But thou dost sweare, onely to be forsworne,
And most forsworne, to keepe what thou dost sweare,
Therefore thy later vowes, against thy first,
Is in thy selfe rebellion to thy selfe:
And better conquest neuer canst thou make,
Then arme thy constant and thy nobler parts
Against these giddy loose suggestions:
Vpon which better part, our prayrs come in,
If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know
The perill of our curses light on thee
So heauy, as thou shalt not shake them off
But in despaire, dye vnder their blacke weight
   Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion
   Bast. Wil't not be?
Will not a Calues-skin stop that mouth of thine?
  Daul. Father, to Armes
   Blanch. Vpon thy wedding day?
Against the blood that thou hast married?
What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men?
Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums
Clamors of hell, be measures to our pomp?
O husband heare me: aye, alacke, how new
Is husband in my mouth? euen for that name
Which till this time my tongue did nere pronounce;
Vpon my knee I beg, goe not to Armes
Against mine Vncle
   Const. O, vpon my knee made hard with kneeling,
I doe pray to thee, thou vertuous Daulphin,
Alter not the doome fore-thought by heauen
   Blan. Now shall I see thy loue, what motiue may
Be stronger with thee, then the name of wife?
  Con. That which vpholdeth him, that thee vpholds,
His Honor, Oh thine Honor, Lewis thine Honor
   Dolph. I muse your Maiesty doth seeme so cold,
When such profound respects doe pull you on?
  Pand. I will denounce a curse vpon his head
   Fra. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall fro[m] thee
   Const. O faire returne of banish'd Maiestie
   Elea. O foule reuolt of French inconstancy
   Eng. France, y shalt rue this houre within this houre
   Bast. Old Time the clocke setter, y bald sexton Time:
Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue
   Bla. The Sun's orecast with bloud: faire day adieu,
Which is the side that I must goe withall?
I am with both, each Army hath a hand,
And in their rage, I hauing hold of both,
They whurle a-sunder, and dismember mee.
Husband, I cannot pray that thou maist winne:
Vncle, I needs must pray that thou maist lose:
Father, I may not wish the fortune thine:
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thriue:
Who-euer wins, on that side shall I lose:
Assured losse, before the match be plaid
   Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies
   Bla. There where my fortune liues, there my life dies
   Iohn. Cosen, goe draw our puisance together,
France, I am burn'd vp with inflaming wrath,
A rage, whose heat hath this condition;
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,
The blood and deerest valued bloud of France
   Fra. Thy rage shall burne thee vp, & thou shalt turne
To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire:
Looke to thy selfe, thou art in ieopardie
   Iohn. No more then he that threats. To Arms let's hie.
Scoena Secunda.
Allarums, Excursions: Enter Bastard with Austria's head.
  Bast. Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot,
Some ayery Deuill houers in the skie,
And pour's downe mischiefe. Austrias head lye there,
Enter Iohn, Arthur, Hubert.
While Philip breathes
   Iohn. Hubert, keepe this boy: Philip make vp,
My Mother is assayled in our Tent,
And tane I feare
   Bast. My Lord I rescued her,
Her Highnesse is in safety, feare you not:
But on my Liege, for very little paines
Will bring this labor to an happy end.
Alarums, excursions, Retreat. Enter Iohn, Eleanor, Arthur Bastard,
  Iohn. So shall it be: your Grace shall stay behinde
So strongly guarded: Cosen, looke not sad,
Thy Grandame loues thee, and thy Vnkle will
As deere be to thee, as thy father was
   Arth. O this will make my mother die with griefe
   Iohn. Cosen away for England, haste before,
And ere our comming see thou shake the bags
Of hoording Abbots, imprisoned angells
Set at libertie: the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed vpon:
Vse our Commission in his vtmost force
   Bast. Bell, Booke, & Candle, shall not driue me back,
When gold and siluer becks me to come on.
I leaue your highnesse: Grandame, I will pray
(If euer I remember to be holy)
For your faire safety: so I kisse your hand
   Ele. Farewell gentle Cosen
   Iohn. Coz, farewell
   Ele. Come hether little kinsman, harke, a worde
   Iohn. Come hether Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much: within this wall of flesh
There is a soule counts thee her Creditor,
And with aduantage meanes to pay thy loue:
And my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Liues in this bosome, deerely cherished.
Giue me thy hand, I had a thing to say,
But I will fit it with some better tune.
By heauen Hubert, I am almost asham'd
To say what good respect I haue of thee
   Hub. I am much bounden to your Maiesty
   Iohn. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet,
But thou shalt haue: and creepe time nere so slow,
Yet it shall come, for me to doe thee good.
I had a thing to say, but let it goe:
The Sunne is in the heauen, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawdes
To giue me audience: If the mid-night bell
Did with his yron tongue, and brazen mouth
Sound on into the drowzie race of night:
If this same were a Church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs:
Or if that surly spirit melancholy
Had bak'd thy bloud, and made it heauy, thicke,
Which else runnes tickling vp and downe the veines,
Making that idiot laughter keepe mens eyes,
And straine their cheekes to idle merriment,
A passion hatefull to my purposes:
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
Heare me without thine eares, and make reply
Without a tongue, vsing conceit alone,
Without eyes, eares, and harmefull sound of words:
Then, in despight of brooded watchfull day,
I would into thy bosome poure my thoughts:
But (ah) I will not, yet I loue thee well,
And by my troth I thinke thou lou'st me well
   Hub. So well, that what you bid me vndertake,
Though that my death were adiunct to my Act,
By heauen I would doe it
   Iohn. Doe not I know thou wouldst?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert throw thine eye
On yon young boy: Ile tell thee what my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way,
And wheresoere this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: dost thou vnderstand me?
Thou art his keeper
   Hub. And Ile keepe him so,
That he shall not offend your Maiesty
   Iohn. Death
   Hub. My Lord
   Iohn. A Graue
   Hub. He shall not liue
   Iohn. Enough.
I could be merry now, Hubert, I loue thee.
Well, Ile not say what I intend for thee:
Remember: Madam, Fare you well,
Ile send those powers o're to your Maiesty
   Ele. My blessing goe with thee
   Iohn. For England Cosen, goe.
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With al true duetie: On toward Callice, hoa.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter France, Dolphin, Pandulpho, Attendants.
  Fra. So by a roaring Tempest on the flood,
A whole Armado of conuicted saile
Is scattered and dis-ioyn'd from fellowship
   Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet goe well
   Fra. What can goe well, when we haue runne so ill?
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur tane prisoner? diuers deere friends slaine?
And bloudy England into England gone,
Ore-bearing interruption spight of France?
  Dol. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed, with such aduice dispos'd,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,
Doth want example: who hath read, or heard
Of any kindred-action like to this?
  Fra. Well could I beare that England had this praise,
So we could finde some patterne of our shame:
Enter Constance.
Looke who comes heere? a graue vnto a soule,
Holding th' eternall spirit against her will,
In the vilde prison of afflicted breath:
I prethee Lady goe away with me
   Con. Lo; now: now see the issue of your peace
   Fra. Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Constance
   Con. No, I defie all Counsell, all redresse,
But that which ends all counsell, true Redresse:
Death, death, O amiable, louely death,
Thou odoriferous stench: sound rottennesse,
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperitie,
And I will kisse thy detestable bones,
And put my eye-balls in thy vaultie browes,
And ring these fingers with thy houshold wormes,
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a Carrion Monster like thy selfe;
Come, grin on me, and I will thinke thou smil'st,
And busse thee as thy wife: Miseries Loue,
O come to me
   Fra. O faire affliction, peace
   Con. No, no, I will not, hauing breath to cry:
O that my tongue were in the thunders mouth,
Then with a passion would I shake the world,
And rowze from sleepe that fell Anatomy
Which cannot heare a Ladies feeble voyce,
Which scornes a moderne Inuocation
   Pand. Lady, you vtter madnesse, and not sorrow
   Con. Thou art holy to belye me so,
I am not mad: this haire I teare is mine,
My name is Constance, I was Geffreyes wife,
Yong Arthur is my sonne, and he is lost:
I am not mad, I would to heauen I were,
For then 'tis like I should forget my selfe:
O, if I could, what griefe should I forget?
Preach some Philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be Canoniz'd (Cardinall.)
For, being not mad, but sensible of greefe,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be deliuer'd of these woes.
And teaches mee to kill or hang my selfe:
If I were mad, I should forget my sonne,
Or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he;
I am not mad: too well, too well I feele
The different plague of each calamitie
   Fra. Binde vp those tresses: O what loue I note
In the faire multitude of those her haires;
Where but by chance a siluer drop hath falne,
Euen to that drop ten thousand wiery fiends
Doe glew themselues in sociable griefe,
Like true, inseparable, faithfull loues,
Sticking together in calamitie
   Con. To England, if you will
   Fra. Binde vp your haires
   Con. Yes that I will: and wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds, and cride aloud,
O, that these hands could so redeeme my sonne,
As they haue giuen these hayres their libertie:
But now I enuie at their libertie,
And will againe commit them to their bonds,
Because my poore childe is a prisoner.
And Father Cardinall, I haue heard you say
That we shall see and know our friends in heauen:
If that be true, I shall see my boy againe;
For since the birth of Caine, the first male-childe
To him that did but yesterday suspire,
There was not such a gracious creature borne:
But now will Canker-sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the natiue beauty from his cheeke,
And he will looke as hollow as a Ghost,
As dim and meager as an Agues fitte,
And so hee'll dye: and rising so againe,
When I shall meet him in the Court of heauen
I shall not know him: therefore neuer, neuer
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more
   Pand. You hold too heynous a respect of greefe
   Const. He talkes to me, that neuer had a sonne
   Fra. You are as fond of greefe, as of your childe
   Con. Greefe fils the roome vp of my absent childe:
Lies in his bed, walkes vp and downe with me,
Puts on his pretty lookes, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffes out his vacant garments with his forme;
Then, haue I reason to be fond of griefe?
Fareyouwell: had you such a losse as I,
I could giue better comfort then you doe.
I will not keepe this forme vpon my head,
When there is such disorder in my witte:
O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire sonne,
My life, my ioy, my food, my all the world:
My widow-comfort, and my sorrowes cure.
  Fra. I feare some out-rage, and Ile follow her.
   Dol. There's nothing in this world can make me ioy,
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull eare of a drowsie man;
And bitter shame hath spoyl'd the sweet words taste,
That it yeelds nought but shame and bitternesse
   Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Euen in the instant of repaire and health,
The fit is strongest: Euils that take leaue
On their departure, most of all shew euill:
What haue you lost by losing of this day?
  Dol. All daies of glory, ioy, and happinesse
   Pan. If you had won it, certainely you had.
No, no: when Fortune meanes to men most good,
Shee lookes vpon them with a threatning eye:
'Tis strange to thinke how much King Iohn hath lost
In this which he accounts so clearely wonne:
Are not you grieu'd that Arthur is his prisoner?
  Dol. As heartily as he is glad he hath him
   Pan. Your minde is all as youthfull as your blood.
Now heare me speake with a propheticke spirit:
For euen the breath of what I meane to speake,
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub
Out of the path which shall directly lead
Thy foote to Englands Throne. And therefore marke:
Iohn hath seiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be,
That whiles warme life playes in that infants veines,
The mis-plac'dIohn should entertaine an houre,
One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest.
A Scepter snatch'd with an vnruly hand,
Must be as boysterously maintain'd as gain'd.
And he that stands vpon a slipp'ry place,
Makes nice of no vilde hold to stay him vp:
That Iohn may stand, then Arthur needs must fall,
So be it, for it cannot be but so
   Dol. But what shall I gaine by yong Arthurs fall?
  Pan. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife,
May then make all the claime that Arthur did
   Dol. And loose it, life and all, as Arthur did
   Pan. How green you are, and fresh in this old world?
Iohn layes you plots: the times conspire with you,
For he that steepes his safetie in true blood,
Shall finde but bloodie safety, and vntrue.
This Act so euilly borne shall coole the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze vp their zeale,
That none so small aduantage shall step forth
To checke his reigne, but they will cherish it.
No naturall exhalation in the skie,
No scope of Nature, no distemper'd day,
No common winde, no customed euent,
But they will plucke away his naturall cause,
And call them Meteors, prodigies, and signes,
Abbortiues, presages, and tongues of heauen,
Plainly denouncing vengeance vpon Iohn
   Dol. May be he will not touch yong Arthurs life,
But hold himselfe safe in his prisonment
   Pan. O Sir, when he shall heare of your approach,
If that yong Arthur be not gone alreadie,
Euen at that newes he dies: and then the hearts
Of all his people shall reuolt from him,
And kisse the lippes of vnacquainted change,
And picke strong matter of reuolt, and wrath
Out of the bloody fingers ends of Iohn.
Me thinkes I see this hurley all on foot;
And O, what better matter breeds for you,
Then I haue nam'd. The Bastard Falconbridge
Is now in England ransacking the Church,
Offending Charity: If but a dozen French
Were there in Armes, they would be as a Call
To traine ten thousand English to their side;
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a Mountaine. O noble Dolphine,
Go with me to the King, 'tis wonderfull,
What may be wrought out of their discontent,
Now that their soules are topfull of offence,
For England go; I will whet on the King
   Dol. Strong reasons makes strange actions: let vs go,
If you say I, the King will not say no.
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter Hubert and Executioners.
  Hub. Heate me these Irons hot, and looke thou stand
Within the Arras: when I strike my foot
Vpon the bosome of the ground, rush forth
And binde the boy, which you shall finde with me
Fast to the chaire: be heedfull: hence, and watch
   Exec. I hope your warrant will beare out the deed
   Hub. Vncleanly scruples feare not you: looke too't.
Yong Lad come forth; I haue to say with you.
Enter Arthur.
  Ar. Good morrow Hubert
   Hub. Good morrow, little Prince
   Ar. As little Prince, hauing so great a Title
To be more Prince, as may be: you are sad
   Hub. Indeed I haue beene merrier
   Art. 'Mercie on me:
Me thinkes no body should be sad but I:
Yet I remember, when I was in France,
Yong Gentlemen would be as sad as night
Onely for wantonnesse: by my Christendome,
So I were out of prison, and kept Sheepe
I should be as merry as the day is long:
And so I would be heere, but that I doubt
My Vnckle practises more harme to me:
He is affraid of me, and I of him:
Is it my fault, that I was Geffreyes sonne?
No in deede is't not: and I would to heauen
I were your sonne, so you would loue me, Hubert:
  Hub. If I talke to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercie, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sodaine, and dispatch
   Ar. Are you sicke Hubert? you looke pale to day,
Insooth I would you were a little sicke,
That I might sit all night, and watch with you.
I warrant I loue you more then you do me
   Hub. His words do take possession of my bosome.
Reade heere yong Arthur. How now foolish rheume?
Turning dispitious torture out of doore?
I must be breefe, least resolution drop
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish teares.
Can you not reade it? Is it not faire writ?
  Ar. Too fairely Hubert, for so foule effect,
Must you with hot Irons, burne out both mine eyes?
  Hub. Yong Boy, I must
   Art. And will you?
  Hub. And I will
   Art. Haue you the heart? When your head did but
I knit my hand-kercher about your browes
(The best I had, a Princesse wrought it me)
And I did neuer aske it you againe:
And with my hand, at midnight held your head;
And like the watchfull minutes, to the houre,
Still and anon cheer'd vp the heauy time;
Saying, what lacke you? and where lies your greefe?
Or what good loue may I performe for you?
Many a poore mans sonne would haue lyen still,
And nere haue spoke a louing word to you:
But you, at your sicke seruice had a Prince:
Nay, you may thinke my loue was craftie loue,
And call it cunning. Do, and if you will,
If heauen be pleas'd that you must vse me ill,
Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that neuer did, nor neuer shall
So much as frowne on you
   Hub. I haue sworne to do it:
And with hot Irons must I burne them out
   Ar. Ah, none but in this Iron Age, would do it:
The Iron of it selfe, though heate red hot,
Approaching neere these eyes, would drinke my teares,
And quench this fierie indignation,
Euen in the matter of mine innocence:
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harme mine eye:
Are you more stubborne hard, then hammer'd Iron?
And if an Angell should haue come to me,
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not haue beleeu'd him: no tongue but Huberts
   Hub. Come forth: Do as I bid you do
   Art. O saue me Hubert, saue me: my eyes are out
Euen with the fierce lookes of these bloody men
   Hub. Giue me the Iron I say, and binde him heere
   Art. Alas, what neede you be so boistrous rough?
I will not struggle, I will stand stone still:
For heauen sake Hubert let me not be bound:
Nay heare me Hubert, driue these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a Lambe.
I will not stirre, nor winch, nor speake a word,
Nor looke vpon the Iron angerly:
Thrust but these men away, and Ile forgiue you,
What euer torment you do put me too
   Hub. Go stand within: let me alone with him
   Exec. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deede
   Art. Alas, I then haue chid away my friend,
He hath a sterne looke, but a gentle heart:
Let him come backe, that his compassion may
Giue life to yours
   Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your selfe
   Art. Is there no remedie?
  Hub. None, but to lose your eyes
   Art. O heauen: that there were but a moth in yours,
A graine, a dust, a gnat, a wandering haire,
Any annoyance in that precious sense:
Then feeling what small things are boysterous there,
Your vilde intent must needs seeme horrible
   Hub. Is this your promise? Go too, hold your toong
   Art. Hubert, the vtterance of a brace of tongues,
Must needes want pleading for a paire of eyes:
Let me not hold my tongue: let me not Hubert,
Or Hubert, if you will cut out my tongue,
So I may keepe mine eyes. O spare mine eyes,
Though to no vse, but still to looke on you.
Loe, by my troth, the Instrument is cold,
And would not harme me
   Hub. I can heate it, Boy
   Art. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with griefe,
Being create for comfort, to be vs'd
In vndeserued extreames: See else your selfe,
There is no malice in this burning cole,
The breath of heauen, hath blowne his spirit out,
And strew'd repentant ashes on his head
   Hub. But with my breath I can reuiue it Boy
   Art. And if you do, you will but make it blush,
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert:
Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes:
And, like a dogge that is compell'd to fight,
Snatch at his Master that doth tarre him on.
All things that you should vse to do me wrong
Deny their office: onely you do lacke
That mercie, which fierce fire, and Iron extends,
Creatures of note for mercy, lacking vses
   Hub. Well, see to liue: I will not touch thine eye,
For all the Treasure that thine Vnckle owes,
Yet am I sworne, and I did purpose, Boy,
With this same very Iron, to burne them out
   Art. O now you looke like Hubert. All this while
You were disguis'd
   Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu,
Your Vnckle must not know but you are dead.
Ile fill these dogged Spies with false reports:
And, pretty childe, sleepe doubtlesse, and secure,
That Hubert for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee
   Art. O heauen! I thanke you Hubert
   Hub. Silence, no more; go closely in with mee,
Much danger do I vndergo for thee.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Iohn, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lordes.
  Iohn. Heere once againe we sit: once against crown'd
And look'd vpon, I hope, with chearefull eyes
   Pem. This once again (but that your Highnes pleas'd)
Was once superfluous: you were Crown'd before,
And that high Royalty was nere pluck'd off:
The faiths of men, nere stained with reuolt:
Fresh expectation troubled not the Land
With any long'd-for-change, or better State
   Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pompe,
To guard a Title, that was rich before;
To gilde refined Gold, to paint the Lilly;
To throw a perfume on the Violet,
To smooth the yce, or adde another hew
Vnto the Raine-bow; or with Taper-light
To seeke the beauteous eye of heauen to garnish,
Is wastefull, and ridiculous excesse
   Pem. But that your Royall pleasure must be done,
This acte, is as an ancient tale new told,
And, in the last repeating, troublesome,
Being vrged at a time vnseasonable
   Sal. In this the Anticke, and well noted face
Of plaine old forme, is much disfigured,
And like a shifted winde vnto a saile,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about,
Startles, and frights consideration:
Makes sound opinion sicke, and truth suspected,
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe
   Pem. When Workemen striue to do better then wel,
They do confound their skill in couetousnesse,
And oftentimes excusing of a fault,
Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse:
As patches set vpon a little breach,
Discredite more in hiding of the fault,
Then did the fault before it was so patch'd
   Sal. To this effect, before you were new crown'd
We breath'd our Councell: but it pleas'd your Highnes
To ouer-beare it, and we are all well pleas'd,
Since all, and euery part of what we would
Doth make a stand, at what your Highnesse will
   Ioh. Some reasons of this double Corronation
I haue possest you with, and thinke them strong.
And more, more strong, then lesser is my feare
I shall indue you with: Meane time, but aske
What you would haue reform'd, that is not well,
And well shall you perceiue, how willingly
I will both heare, and grant you your requests
   Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these
To sound the purposes of all their hearts,
Both for my selfe, and them: but chiefe of all
Your safety: for the which, my selfe and them
Bend their best studies, heartily request
Th' infranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint
Doth moue the murmuring lips of discontent
To breake into this dangerous argument.
If what in rest you haue, in right you hold,
Why then your feares, which (as they say) attend
The steppes of wrong, should moue you to mew vp
Your tender kinsman, and to choake his dayes
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth
The rich aduantage of good exercise,
That the times enemies may not haue this
To grace occasions: let it be our suite,
That you haue bid vs aske his libertie,
Which for our goods, we do no further aske,
Then, whereupon our weale on you depending,
Counts it your weale: he haue his liberty.
Enter Hubert.
  Iohn. Let it be so: I do commit his youth
To your direction: Hubert, what newes with you?
  Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed:
He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine,
The image of a wicked heynous fault
Liues in his eye: that close aspect of his,
Do shew the mood of a much troubled brest,
And I do fearefully beleeue 'tis done,
What we so fear'd he had a charge to do
   Sal. The colour of the King doth come, and go
Betweene his purpose and his conscience,
Like Heralds 'twixt two dreadfull battailes set:
His passion is so ripe, it needs must breake
   Pem. And when it breakes, I feare will issue thence
The foule corruption of a sweet childes death
   Iohn. We cannot hold mortalities strong hand.
Good Lords, although my will to giue, is liuing,
The suite which you demand is gone, and dead.
He tels vs Arthur is deceas'd to night
   Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sicknesse was past cure
   Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was,
Before the childe himselfe felt he was sicke:
This must be answer'd either heere, or hence
   Ioh. Why do you bend such solemne browes on me?
Thinke you I beare the Sheeres of destiny?
Haue I commandement on the pulse of life?
  Sal. It is apparant foule-play, and 'tis shame
That Greatnesse should so grossely offer it;
So thriue it in your game, and so farewell
   Pem. Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) Ile go with thee,
And finde th' inheritance of this poore childe,
His little kingdome of a forced graue.
That blood which ow'd the bredth of all this Ile,
Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while:
This must not be thus borne, this will breake out
To all our sorrowes, and ere long I doubt.
  Io. They burn in indignation: I repent:
There is no sure foundation set on blood:
No certaine life atchieu'd by others death:
A fearefull eye thou hast. Where is that blood,
That I haue seene inhabite in those cheekes?
So foule a skie, cleeres not without a storme,
Poure downe thy weather: how goes all in France?
  Mes. From France to England, neuer such a powre
For any forraigne preparation,
Was leuied in the body of a land.
The Copie of your speede is learn'd by them:
For when you should be told they do prepare,
The tydings comes, that they are all arriu'd
   Ioh. Oh where hath our Intelligence bin drunke?
Where hath it slept? Where is my Mothers care?
That such an Army could be drawne in France,
And she not heare of it?
  Mes. My Liege, her eare
Is stopt with dust: the first of Aprill di'de
Your noble mother; and as I heare, my Lord,
The Lady Constance in a frenzie di'de
Three dayes before: but this from Rumors tongue
I idely heard: if true, or false I know not
   Iohn. With-hold thy speed, dreadfull Occasion:
O make a league with me, 'till I haue pleas'd
My discontented Peeres. What? Mother dead?
How wildely then walkes my Estate in France?
Vnder whose conduct came those powres of France,
That thou for truth giu'st out are landed heere?
  Mes. Vnder the Dolphin.
Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.
  Ioh. Thou hast made me giddy
With these ill tydings: Now? What sayes the world
To your proceedings? Do not seeke to stuffe
My head with more ill newes: for it is full
   Bast. But if you be a-feard to heare the worst,
Then let the worst vn-heard, fall on your head
   Iohn. Beare with me Cosen, for I was amaz'd
Vnder the tide; but now I breath againe
Aloft the flood, and can giue audience
To any tongue, speake it of what it will
   Bast. How I haue sped among the Clergy men,
The summes I haue collected shall expresse:
But as I trauail'd hither through the land,
I finde the people strangely fantasied,
Possest with rumors, full of idle dreames,
Not knowing what they feare, but full of feare.
And here's a Prophet that I brought with me
From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found
With many hundreds treading on his heeles:
To whom he sung in rude harsh sounding rimes,
That ere the next Ascension day at noone,
Your Highnes should deliuer vp your Crowne
   Iohn. Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?
  Pet. Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out so
   Iohn. Hubert, away with him: imprison him,
And on that day at noone, whereon he sayes
I shall yeeld vp my Crowne, let him be hang'd
Deliuer him to safety, and returne,
For I must vse thee. O my gentle Cosen,
Hear'st thou the newes abroad, who are arriu'd?
  Bast. The French (my Lord) mens mouths are ful of it:
Besides I met Lord Bigot, and Lord Salisburie
With eyes as red as new enkindled fire,
And others more, going to seeke the graue
Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to night, on your suggestion
   Iohn. Gentle kinsman, go
And thrust thy selfe into their Companies,
I haue a way to winne their loues againe:
Bring them before me
   Bast. I will seeke them out
   Iohn. Nay, but make haste: the better foote before.
O, let me haue no subiect enemies,
When aduerse Forreyners affright my Townes
With dreadfull pompe of stout inuasion.
Be Mercurie, set feathers to thy heeles,
And flye (like thought) from them, to me againe
   Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
  Iohn. Spoke like a sprightfull Noble Gentleman.
Go after him: for he perhaps shall neede
Some Messenger betwixt me, and the Peeres,
And be thou hee
   Mes. With all my heart, my Liege
   Iohn. My mother dead?
Enter Hubert.
  Hub. My Lord, they say fiue Moones were seene to night:
Foure fixed, and the fift did whirle about
The other foure, in wondrous motion
   Ioh. Fiue Moones?
  Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streets
Do prophesie vpon it dangerously:
Yong Arthurs death is common in their mouths,
And when they talke of him, they shake their heads,
And whisper one another in the eare.
And he that speakes, doth gripe the hearers wrist,
Whilst he that heares, makes fearefull action
With wrinkled browes, with nods, with rolling eyes.
I saw a Smith stand with his hammer (thus)
The whilst his Iron did on the Anuile coole,
With open mouth swallowing a Taylors newes,
Who with his Sheeres, and Measure in his hand,
Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste
Had falsely thrust vpon contrary feete,
Told of a many thousand warlike French,
That were embattailed, and rank'd in Kent.
Another leane, vnwash'd Artificer,
Cuts off his tale, and talkes of Arthurs death
   Io. Why seek'st thou to possesse me with these feares?
Why vrgest thou so oft yong Arthurs death?
Thy hand hath murdred him: I had a mighty cause
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him
   H. No had (my Lord?) why, did you not prouoke me?
  Iohn. It is the curse of Kings, to be attended
By slaues, that take their humors for a warrant,
To breake within the bloody house of life,
And on the winking of Authoritie
To vnderstand a Law; to know the meaning
Of dangerous Maiesty, when perchance it frownes
More vpon humor, then aduis'd respect
   Hub. Heere is your hand and Seale for what I did
   Ioh. Oh, when the last accompt twixt heauen & earth
Is to be made, then shall this hand and Seale
Witnesse against vs to damnation.
How oft the sight of meanes to do ill deeds,
Make deeds ill done? Had'st not thou beene by,
A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd,
Quoted, and sign'd to do a deede of shame,
This murther had not come into my minde.
But taking note of thy abhorr'd Aspect,
Finding thee fit for bloody villanie:
Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthurs death:
And thou, to be endeered to a King,
Made it no conscience to destroy a Prince
   Hub. My Lord
   Ioh. Had'st thou but shooke thy head, or made a pause
When I spake darkely, what I purposed:
Or turn'd an eye of doubt vpon my face;
As bid me tell my tale in expresse words:
Deepe shame had struck me dumbe, made me break off,
And those thy feares, might haue wrought feares in me.
But, thou didst vnderstand me by my signes,
And didst in signes againe parley with sinne,
Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,
And consequently, thy rude hand to acte
The deed, which both our tongues held vilde to name.
Out of my sight, and neuer see me more:
My Nobles leaue me, and my State is braued,
Euen at my gates, with rankes of forraigne powres;
Nay, in the body of this fleshly Land,
This kingdome, this Confine of blood, and breathe
Hostilitie, and ciuill tumult reignes
Betweene my conscience, and my Cosins death
   Hub. Arme you against your other enemies:
Ile make a peace betweene your soule, and you.
Yong Arthur is aliue: This hand of mine
Is yet a maiden, and an innocent hand.
Not painted with the Crimson spots of blood,
Within this bosome, neuer entred yet
The dreadfull motion of a murderous thought,
And you haue slander'd Nature in my forme,
Which howsoeuer rude exteriorly,
Is yet the couer of a fayrer minde,
Then to be butcher of an innocent childe
   Iohn. Doth Arthur liue? O hast thee to the Peeres,
Throw this report on their incensed rage,
And make them tame to their obedience.
Forgiue the Comment that my passion made
Vpon thy feature, for my rage was blinde,
And foule immaginarie eyes of blood
Presented thee more hideous then thou art.
Oh, answer not; but to my Closset bring
The angry Lords, with all expedient hast,
I coniure thee but slowly: run more fast.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Arthur on the walles.
  Ar. The Wall is high, and yet will I leape downe.
Good ground be pittifull, and hurt me not:
There's few or none do know me, if they did,
This Ship-boyes semblance hath disguis'd me quite.
I am afraide, and yet Ile venture it.
If I get downe, and do not breake my limbes,
Ile finde a thousand shifts to get away;
As good to dye, and go; as dye, and stay.
Oh me, my Vnckles spirit is in these stones,
Heauen take my soule, and England keep my bones.
Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, & Bigot.
  Sal. Lords, I will meet him at S[aint]. Edmondsbury,
It is our safetie, and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perillous time
   Pem. Who brought that Letter from the Cardinall?
  Sal. The Count Meloone, a Noble Lord of France,
Whose priuate with me of the Dolphines loue,
Is much more generall, then these lines import
   Big. To morrow morning let vs meete him then
   Sal. Or rather then set forward, for 'twill be
Two long dayes iourney (Lords) or ere we meete.
Enter Bastard.
  Bast. Once more to day well met, distemper'd Lords,
The King by me requests your presence straight
   Sal. The king hath dispossest himselfe of vs,
We will not lyne his thin-bestained cloake
With our pure Honors: nor attend the foote
That leaues the print of blood where ere it walkes.
Returne, and tell him so: we know the worst
   Bast. What ere you thinke, good words I thinke
   Sal. Our greefes, and not our manners reason now
   Bast. But there is little reason in your greefe.
Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now
   Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his priuiledge
   Bast. 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no mans else
   Sal. This is the prison: What is he lyes heere?
  P. Oh death, made proud with pure & princely beuty,
The earth had not a hole to hide this deede
   Sal. Murther, as hating what himselfe hath done,
Doth lay it open to vrge on reuenge
   Big. Or when he doom'd this Beautie to a graue,
Found it too precious Princely, for a graue
   Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you? you haue beheld,
Or haue you read, or heard, or could you thinke?
Or do you almost thinke, although you see,
That you do see? Could thought, without this obiect
Forme such another? This is the very top,
The heighth, the Crest: or Crest vnto the Crest
Of murthers Armes: This is the bloodiest shame,
The wildest Sauagery, the vildest stroke
That euer wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage
Presented to the teares of soft remorse
   Pem. All murthers past, do stand excus'd in this:
And this so sole, and so vnmatcheable,
Shall giue a holinesse, a puritie,
To the yet vnbegotten sinne of times;
And proue a deadly bloodshed, but a iest,
Exampled by this heynous spectacle
   Bast. It is a damned, and a bloody worke,
The gracelesse action of a heauy hand,
If that it be the worke of any hand
   Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand?
We had a kinde of light, what would ensue:
It is the shamefull worke of Huberts hand,
The practice, and the purpose of the king:
From whose obedience I forbid my soule,
Kneeling before this ruine of sweete life,
And breathing to his breathlesse Excellence
The Incense of a Vow, a holy Vow:
Neuer to taste the pleasures of the world,
Neuer to be infected with delight,
Nor conuersant with Ease, and Idlenesse,
Till I haue set a glory to this hand,
By giuing it the worship of Reuenge
   Pem. Big. Our soules religiously confirme thy words.
Enter Hubert.
  Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you,
Arthur doth liue, the king hath sent for you
   Sal. Oh he is bold, and blushes not at death,
Auant thou hatefull villain, get thee gone
   Hu. I am no villaine
   Sal. Must I rob the Law?
  Bast. Your sword is bright sir, put it vp againe
   Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murtherers skin
   Hub. Stand backe Lord Salsbury, stand backe I say
By heauen, I thinke my sword's as sharpe as yours.
I would not haue you (Lord) forget your selfe,
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence;
Least I, by marking of your rage, forget
Your Worth, your Greatnesse, and Nobility
   Big. Out dunghill: dar'st thou braue a Nobleman?
  Hub. Not for my life: But yet I dare defend
My innocent life against an Emperor
   Sal. Thou art a Murtherer
   Hub. Do not proue me so:
Yet I am none. Whose tongue so ere speakes false,
Not truely speakes: who speakes not truly, Lies
   Pem. Cut him to peeces
   Bast. Keepe the peace, I say
   Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you Faulconbridge
   Bast. Thou wer't better gaul the diuell Salsbury.
If thou but frowne on me, or stirre thy foote,
Or teach thy hastie spleene to do me shame,
Ile strike thee dead. Put vp thy sword betime,
Or Ile so maule you, and your tosting-Iron,
That you shall thinke the diuell is come from hell
   Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge?
Second a Villaine, and a Murtherer?
  Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none
   Big. Who kill'd this Prince?
  Hub. 'Tis not an houre since I left him well:
I honour'd him, I lou'd him, and will weepe
My date of life out, for his sweete liues losse
   Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villanie is not without such rheume,
And he, long traded in it, makes it seeme
Like Riuers of remorse and innocencie.
Away with me, all you whose soules abhorre
Th' vncleanly sauours of a Slaughter-house,
For I am stifled with this smell of sinne
   Big. Away, toward Burie, to the Dolphin there
   P. There tel the king, he may inquire vs out.
  Ba. Here's a good world: knew you of this faire work?
Beyond the infinite and boundlesse reach of mercie,
(If thou didst this deed of death) art y damn'd Hubert
   Hub. Do but heare me sir
   Bast. Ha? Ile tell thee what.
Thou'rt damn'd as blacke, nay nothing is so blacke,
Thou art more deepe damn'd then Prince Lucifer:
There is not yet so vgly a fiend of hell
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this childe
   Hub. Vpon my soule
   Bast. If thou didst but consent
To this most cruell Act: do but dispaire,
And if thou want'st a Cord, the smallest thred
That euer Spider twisted from her wombe
Will serue to strangle thee: A rush will be a beame
To hang thee on. Or wouldst thou drowne thy selfe,
Put but a little water in a spoone,
And it shall be as all the Ocean,
Enough to stifle such a villaine vp.
I do suspect thee very greeuously
   Hub. If I in act, consent, or sinne of thought,
Be guiltie of the stealing that sweete breath
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want paines enough to torture me:
I left him well
   Bast. Go, beare him in thine armes:
I am amaz'd me thinkes, and loose my way
Among the thornes, and dangers of this world.
How easie dost thou take all England vp,
From forth this morcell of dead Royaltie?
The life, the right, and truth of all this Realme
Is fled to heauen: and England now is left
To tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth
The vn-owed interest of proud swelling State:
Now for the bare-pickt bone of Maiesty,
Doth dogged warre bristle his angry crest,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:
Now Powers from home, and discontents at home
Meet in one line: and vast confusion waites
As doth a Rauen on a sicke-falne beast,
The iminent decay of wrested pompe.
Now happy he, whose cloake and center can
Hold out this tempest. Beare away that childe,
And follow me with speed: Ile to the King:
A thousand businesses are briefe in hand,
And heauen it selfe doth frowne vpon the Land.
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter King Iohn and Pandolph, attendants.
  K.Iohn. Thus haue I yeelded vp into your hand
The Circle of my glory
   Pan. Take againe
From this my hand, as holding of the Pope
Your Soueraigne greatnesse and authoritie
   Iohn. Now keep your holy word, go meet the French,
And from his holinesse vse all your power
To stop their marches 'fore we are enflam'd:
Our discontented Counties doe reuolt:
Our people quarrell with obedience,
Swearing Allegiance, and the loue of soule
To stranger-bloud, to forren Royalty;
This inundation of mistempred humor,
Rests by you onely to be qualified.
Then pause not: for the present time's so sicke,
That present medcine must be ministred,
Or ouerthrow incureable ensues
   Pand. It was my breath that blew this Tempest vp,
Vpon your stubborne vsage of the Pope:
But since you are a gentle conuertite,
My tongue shall hush againe this storme of warre,
And make faire weather in your blustring land:
On this Ascention day, remember well,
Vpon your oath of seruice to the Pope,
Goe I to make the French lay downe their Armes.
  Iohn. Is this Ascension day? did not the Prophet
Say, that before Ascension day at noone,
My Crowne I should giue off? euen so I haue:
I did suppose it should be on constraint,
But (heau'n be thank'd) it is but voluntary.
Enter Bastard.
  Bast. All Kent hath yeelded: nothing there holds out
But Douer Castle: London hath receiu'd
Like a kinde Host, the Dolphin and his powers.
Your Nobles will not heare you, but are gone
To offer seruice to your enemy:
And wilde amazement hurries vp and downe
The little number of your doubtfull friends
   Iohn. Would not my Lords returne to me againe
After they heard yong Arthur was aliue?
  Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the streets,
An empty Casket, where the Iewell of life
By some damn'd hand was rob'd, and tane away
   Iohn. That villaine Hubert told me he did liue
   Bast. So on my soule he did, for ought he knew:
But wherefore doe you droope? why looke you sad?
Be great in act, as you haue beene in thought:
Let not the world see feare and sad distrust
Gouerne the motion of a kinglye eye:
Be stirring as the time, be fire with fire,
Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow
Of bragging horror: So shall inferior eyes
That borrow their behauiours from the great,
Grow great by your example, and put on
The dauntlesse spirit of resolution.
Away, and glister like the god of warre
When he intendeth to become the field:
Shew boldnesse and aspiring confidence:
What, shall they seeke the Lion in his denne,
And fright him there? and make him tremble there?
Oh let it not be said: forrage, and runne
To meet displeasure farther from the dores,
And grapple with him ere he come so nye
   Iohn. The Legat of the Pope hath beene with mee,
And I haue made a happy peace with him,
And he hath promis'd to dismisse the Powers
Led by the Dolphin
   Bast. Oh inglorious league:
Shall we vpon the footing of our land,
Send fayre-play-orders, and make comprimise,
Insinuation, parley, and base truce
To Armes Inuasiue? Shall a beardlesse boy,
A cockred-silken wanton braue our fields,
And flesh his spirit in a warre-like soyle,
Mocking the ayre with colours idlely spred,
And finde no checke? Let vs my Liege to Armes:
Perchance the Cardinall cannot make your peace;
Or if he doe, let it at least be said
They saw we had a purpose of defence
   Iohn. Haue thou the ordering of this present time
   Bast. Away then with good courage: yet I know
Our Partie may well meet a prowder foe.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter (in Armes) Dolphin, Salisbury, Meloone, Pembroke, Bigot,
  Dol. My Lord Melloone, let this be coppied out,
And keepe it safe for our remembrance:
Returne the president to these Lords againe,
That hauing our faire order written downe,
Both they and we, perusing ore these notes
May know wherefore we tooke the Sacrament,
And keepe our faithes firme and inuiolable
   Sal. Vpon our sides it neuer shall be broken.
And Noble Dolphin, albeit we sweare
A voluntary zeale, and an vn-urg'd Faith
To your proceedings: yet beleeue me Prince,
I am not glad that such a sore of Time
Should seeke a plaster by contemn'd reuolt,
And heale the inueterate Canker of one wound,
By making many: Oh it grieues my soule,
That I must draw this mettle from my side
To be a widdow-maker: oh, and there
Where honourable rescue, and defence
Cries out vpon the name of Salisbury.
But such is the infection of the time,
That for the health and Physicke of our right,
We cannot deale but with the very hand
Of sterne Iniustice, and confused wrong:
And is't not pitty, (oh my grieued friends)
That we, the sonnes and children of this Isle,
Was borne to see so sad an houre as this,
Wherein we step after a stranger, march
Vpon her gentle bosom, and fill vp
Her Enemies rankes? I must withdraw, and weepe
Vpon the spot of this inforced cause,
To grace the Gentry of a Land remote,
And follow vnacquainted colours heere:
What heere? O Nation that thou couldst remoue,
That Neptunes Armes who clippeth thee about,
Would beare thee from the knowledge of thy selfe,
And cripple thee vnto a Pagan shore,
Where these two Christian Armies might combine
The bloud of malice, in a vaine of league,
And not to spend it so vn-neighbourly
   Dolph. A noble temper dost thou shew in this,
And great affections wrastling in thy bosome
Doth make an earth-quake of Nobility:
Oh, what a noble combat hast fought
Between compulsion, and a braue respect:
Let me wipe off this honourable dewe,
That siluerly doth progresse on thy cheekes:
My heart hath melted at a Ladies teares,
Being an ordinary Inundation:
But this effusion of such manly drops,
This showre, blowne vp by tempest of the soule,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Then had I seene the vaultie top of heauen
Figur'd quite ore with burning Meteors.
Lift vp thy brow (renowned Salisburie)
And with a great heart heaue away this storme:
Commend these waters to those baby-eyes
That neuer saw the giant-world enrag'd,
Nor met with Fortune, other then at feasts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossipping:
Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deepe
Into the purse of rich prosperity
As Lewis himselfe: so (Nobles) shall you all,
That knit your sinewes to the strength of mine.
Enter Pandulpho.
And euen there, methinkes an Angell spake,
Looke where the holy Legate comes apace,
To giue vs warrant from the hand of heauen,
And on our actions set the name of right
With holy breath
   Pand. Haile noble Prince of France:
The next is this: King Iohn hath reconcil'd
Himselfe to Rome, his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy Church,
The great Metropolis and Sea of Rome:
Therefore thy threatning Colours now winde vp,
And tame the sauage spirit of wilde warre,
That like a Lion fostered vp at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmefull then in shewe
   Dol. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not backe:
I am too high-borne to be proportied
To be a secondary at controll,
Or vsefull seruing-man, and Instrument
To any Soueraigne State throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coale of warres,
Betweene this chastiz'd kingdome and my selfe,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire;
And now 'tis farre too huge to be blowne out
With that same weake winde, which enkindled it:
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this Land,
Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart,
And come ye now to tell me Iohn hath made
His peace with Rome? what is that peace to me?
I (by the honour of my marriage bed)
After yong Arthur, claime this Land for mine,
And now it is halfe conquer'd, must I backe,
Because that Iohn hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Romes slaue? What penny hath Rome borne?
What men prouided? What munition sent
To vnder-prop this Action? Is't not I
That vnder-goe this charge? Who else but I,
And such as to my claime are liable,
Sweat in this businesse, and maintaine this warre?
Haue I not heard these Islanders shout out
Viue le Roy, as I haue bank'd their Townes?
Haue I not heere the best Cards for the game
To winne this easie match, plaid for a Crowne?
And shall I now giue ore the yeelded Set?
No, no, on my soule it neuer shall be said
   Pand. You looke but on the out-side of this worke
   Dol. Out-side or in-side, I will not returne
Till my attempt so much be glorified,
As to my ample hope was promised,
Before I drew this gallant head of warre,
And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world
To out-looke Conquest, and to winne renowne
Euen in the iawes of danger, and of death:
What lusty Trumpet thus doth summon vs?
Enter Bastard.
  Bast. According to the faire-play of the world,
Let me haue audience: I am sent to speake:
My holy Lord of Millane, from the King
I come to learne how you haue dealt for him:
And, as you answer, I doe know the scope
And warrant limited vnto my tongue
   Pand. The Dolphin is too wilfull opposite
And will not temporize with my intreaties:
He flatly saies, hee'll not lay downe his Armes
   Bast. By all the bloud that euer fury breath'd,
The youth saies well. Now heare our English King,
For thus his Royaltie doth speake in me:
He is prepar'd, and reason to he should,
This apish and vnmannerly approach,
This harness'd Maske, and vnaduised Reuell,
This vn-heard sawcinesse and boyish Troopes,
The King doth smile at, and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish warre, this Pigmy Armes
From out the circle of his Territories.
That hand which had the strength, euen at your dore,
To cudgell you, and make you take the hatch,
To diue like Buckets in concealed Welles,
To crowch in litter of your stable plankes,
To lye like pawnes, lock'd vp in chests and truncks,
To hug with swine, to seeke sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake,
Euen at the crying of your Nations crow,
Thinking this voyce an armed Englishman.
Shall that victorious hand be feebled heere,
That in your Chambers gaue you chasticement?
No: know the gallant Monarch is in Armes,
And like an Eagle, o're his ayerie towres,
To sowsse annoyance that comes neere his Nest;
And you degenerate, you ingrate Reuolts,
You bloudy Nero's, ripping vp the wombe
Of your deere Mother-England: blush for shame:
For your owne Ladies, and pale-visag'd Maides,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drummes:
Their thimbles into armed Gantlets change,
Their Needl's to Lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination
   Dol. There end thy braue, and turn thy face in peace,
We grant thou canst out-scold vs: Far thee well,
We hold our time too precious to be spent
with such a brabler
   Pan. Giue me leaue to speake
   Bast. No, I will speake
   Dol. We will attend to neyther:
Strike vp the drummes, and let the tongue of warre
Pleade for our interest, and our being heere
   Bast. Indeede your drums being beaten, wil cry out;
And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start
An eccho with the clamor of thy drumme,
And euen at hand, a drumme is readie brac'd,
That shall reuerberate all, as lowd as thine.
Sound but another, and another shall
(As lowd as thine) rattle the Welkins eare,
And mocke the deepe mouth'd Thunder: for at hand
(Not trusting to this halting Legate heere,
Whom he hath vs'd rather for sport, then neede)
Is warlike Iohn: and in his fore-head sits
A bare-rib'd death, whose office is this day
To feast vpon whole thousands of the French
   Dol. Strike vp our drummes, to finde this danger out
   Bast. And thou shalt finde it (Dolphin) do not doubt
Scaena Tertia.
Alarums. Enter Iohn and Hubert.
  Iohn. How goes the day with vs? oh tell me Hubert
   Hub. Badly I feare; how fares your Maiesty?
  Iohn. This Feauer that hath troubled me so long,
Lyes heauie on me: oh, my heart is sicke.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. My Lord: your valiant kinsman Falconbridge,
Desires your Maiestie to leaue the field,
And send him word by me, which way you go
   Iohn. Tell him toward Swinsted, to the Abbey there
   Mes. Be of good comfort: for the great supply
That was expected by the Dolphin heere,
Are wrack'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands.
This newes was brought to Richard but euen now,
The French fight coldly, and retyre themselues
   Iohn. Aye me, this tyrant Feauer burnes mee vp,
And will not let me welcome this good newes.
Set on toward Swinsted: to my Litter straight,
Weaknesse possesseth me, and I am faint.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.
  Sal. I did not thinke the King so stor'd with friends
   Pem. Vp once againe: put spirit in the French,
If they miscarry: we miscarry too
   Sal. That misbegotten diuell Falconbridge,
In spight of spight, alone vpholds the day
   Pem. They say King Iohn sore sick, hath left the field.
Enter Meloon wounded.
  Mel. Lead me to the Reuolts of England heere
   Sal. When we were happie, we had other names
   Pem. It is the Count Meloone
   Sal. Wounded to death
   Mel. Fly Noble English, you are bought and sold,
Vnthred the rude eye of Rebellion,
And welcome home againe discarded faith,
Seeke out King Iohn, and fall before his feete:
For if the French be Lords of this loud day,
He meanes to recompence the paines you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworne,
And I with him, and many moe with mee,
Vpon the Altar at S[aint]. Edmondsbury,
Euen on that Altar, where we swore to you
Deere Amity, and euerlasting loue
   Sal. May this be possible? May this be true?
  Mel. Haue I not hideous death within my view,
Retaining but a quantity of life,
Which bleeds away, euen as a forme of waxe
Resolueth from his figure 'gainst the fire?
What in the world should make me now deceiue,
Since I must loose the vse of all deceite?
Why should I then be false, since it is true
That I must dye heere, and liue hence, by Truth?
I say againe, if Lewis do win the day,
He is forsworne, if ere those eyes of yours
Behold another day breake in the East:
But euen this night, whose blacke contagious breath
Already smoakes about the burning Crest
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied Sunne,
Euen this ill night, your breathing shall expire,
Paying the fine of rated Treachery,
Euen with a treacherous fine of all your liues:
If Lewis, by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your King;
The loue of him, and this respect besides
(For that my Grandsire was an Englishman)
Awakes my Conscience to confesse all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you beare me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the Field;
Where I may thinke the remnant of my thoughts
In peace: and part this bodie and my soule
With contemplation, and deuout desires
   Sal. We do beleeue thee, and beshrew my soule,
But I do loue the fauour, and the forme
Of this most faire occasion, by the which
We will vntread the steps of damned flight,
And like a bated and retired Flood,
Leauing our ranknesse and irregular course,
Stoope lowe within those bounds we haue ore-look'd,
And calmely run on in obedience
Euen to our Ocean, to our great King Iohn.
My arme shall giue thee helpe to beare thee hence,
For I do see the cruell pangs of death
Right in thine eye. Away, my friends, new flight,
And happie newnesse, that intends old right.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Dolphin, and his Traine.
  Dol. The Sun of heauen (me thought) was loth to set;
But staid, and made the Westerne Welkin blush,
When English measure backward their owne ground
In faint Retire: Oh brauely came we off,
When with a volley of our needlesse shot,
After such bloody toile, we bid good night,
And woon'd our tott'ring colours clearly vp,
Last in the field, and almost Lords of it.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Where is my Prince, the Dolphin?
  Dol. Heere: what newes?
  Mes. The Count Meloone is slaine: The English Lords
By his perswasion, are againe falne off,
And your supply, which you haue wish'd so long,
Are cast away, and sunke on Goodwin sands
   Dol. Ah fowle, shrew'd newes. Beshrew thy very hart:
I did not thinke to be so sad to night
As this hath made me. Who was he that said
King Iohn did flie an houre or two before
The stumbling night did part our wearie powres?
  Mes. Who euer spoke it, it is true my Lord
   Dol. Well: keepe good quarter, & good care to night,
The day shall not be vp so soone as I,
To try the faire aduenture of to morrow.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Bastard and Hubert, seuerally.
  Hub. Whose there? Speake hoa, speake quickely, or
   Bast. A Friend. What art thou?
  Hub. Of the part of England
   Bast. Whether doest thou go?
  Hub. What's that to thee?
Why may not I demand of thine affaires,
As well as thou of mine?
  Bast. Hubert, I thinke
   Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought:
I will vpon all hazards well beleeue
Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well:
Who art thou?
  Bast. Who thou wilt: and if thou please
Thou maist be-friend me so much, as to thinke
I come one way of the Plantagenets
   Hub. Vnkinde remembrance: thou, & endles night,
Haue done me shame: Braue Soldier, pardon me,
That any accent breaking from thy tongue,
Should scape the true acquaintance of mine eare
   Bast. Come, come: sans complement, What newes
  Hub. Why heere walke I in the black brow of night
To finde you out
   Bast. Breefe then: and what's the newes?
  Hub. O my sweet sir, newes fitting to the night,
Blacke, fearefull, comfortlesse, and horrible
   Bast. Shew me the very wound of this ill newes,
I am no woman, Ile not swound at it
   Hub. The King I feare is poyson'd by a Monke,
I left him almost speechlesse, and broke out
To acquaint you with this euill, that you might
The better arme you to the sodaine time,
Then if you had at leisure knowne of this
   Bast. How did he take it? Who did taste to him?
  Hub. A Monke I tell you, a resolued villaine
Whose Bowels sodainly burst out: The King
Yet speakes, and peraduenture may recouer
   Bast. Who didst thou leaue to tend his Maiesty?
  Hub. Why know you not? The Lords are all come
And brought Prince Henry in their companie,
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his Maiestie
   Bast. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heauen,
And tempt vs not to beare aboue our power.
Ile tell thee Hubert, halfe my power this night
Passing these Flats, are taken by the Tide,
These Lincolne-Washes haue deuoured them,
My selfe, well mounted, hardly haue escap'd.
Away before: Conduct me to the king,
I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come.
Scena Septima.
Enter Prince Henry, Salisburie, and Bigot.
  Hen. It is too late, the life of all his blood
Is touch'd, corruptibly: and his pure braine
(Which some suppose the soules fraile dwelling house)
Doth by the idle Comments that it makes,
Fore-tell the ending of mortality.
Enter Pembroke.
  Pem. His Highnesse yet doth speak, & holds beleefe,
That being brought into the open ayre,
It would allay the burning qualitie
Of that fell poison which assayleth him
   Hen. Let him be brought into the Orchard heere:
Doth he still rage?
  Pem. He is more patient
Then when you left him; euen now he sung
   Hen. Oh vanity of sicknesse: fierce extreames
In their continuance, will not feele themselues.
Death hauing praide vpon the outward parts
Leaues them inuisible, and his seige is now
Against the winde, the which he prickes and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies,
Which in their throng, and presse to that last hold,
Counfound themselues. 'Tis strange y death shold sing:
I am the Symet to this pale faint Swan,
Who chaunts a dolefull hymne to his owne death,
And from the organ-pipe of frailety sings
His soule and body to their lasting rest
   Sal. Be of good comfort (Prince) for you are borne
To set a forme vpon that indigest
Which he hath left so shapelesse, and so rude.
Iohn brought in.
  Iohn. I marrie, now my soule hath elbow roome,
It would not out at windowes, nor at doores,
There is so hot a summer in my bosome,
That all my bowels crumble vp to dust:
I am a scribled forme drawne with a pen
Vpon a Parchment, and against this fire
Do I shrinke vp
   Hen. How fares your Maiesty?
  Ioh. Poyson'd, ill fare: dead, forsooke, cast off,
And none of you will bid the winter come
To thrust his ycie fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdomes Riuers take their course
Through my burn'd bosome: nor intreat the North
To make his bleake windes kisse my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I do not aske you much,
I begge cold comfort: and you are so straight
And so ingratefull, you deny me that
   Hen. Oh that there were some vertue in my teares,
That might releeue you
   Iohn. The salt in them is hot.
Within me is a hell, and there the poyson
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize,
On vnrepreeuable condemned blood.
Enter Bastard.
  Bast. Oh, I am scalded with my violent motion
And spleene of speede, to see your Maiesty
   Iohn. Oh Cozen, thou art come to set mine eye:
The tackle of my heart, is crack'd and burnt,
And all the shrowds wherewith my life should saile,
Are turned to one thred, one little haire:
My heart hath one poore string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy newes be vttered,
And then all this thou seest, is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty
   Bast. The Dolphin is preparing hither-ward,
Where heauen he knowes how we shall answer him.
For in a night the best part of my powre,
As I vpon aduantage did remoue,
Were in the Washes all vnwarily,
Deuoured by the vnexpected flood
   Sal. You breath these dead newes in as dead an eare
My Liege, my Lord: but now a King, now thus
   Hen. Euen so must I run on, and euen so stop.
What surety of the world, what hope, what stay,
When this was now a King, and now is clay?
  Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behinde,
To do the office for thee, of reuenge,
And then my soule shall waite on thee to heauen,
As it on earth hath bene thy seruant still.
Now, now you Starres, that moue in your right spheres,
Where be your powres? Shew now your mended faiths,
And instantly returne with me againe.
To push destruction, and perpetuall shame
Out of the weake doore of our fainting Land:
Straight let vs seeke, or straight we shall be sought,
The Dolphine rages at our verie heeles
   Sal. It seemes you know not then so much as we,
The Cardinall Pandulph is within at rest,
Who halfe an houre since came from the Dolphin,
And brings from him such offers of our peace,
As we with honor and respect may take,
With purpose presently to leaue this warre
   Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees
Our selues well sinew'd to our defence
   Sal. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already,
For many carriages hee hath dispatch'd
To the sea side, and put his cause and quarrell
To the disposing of the Cardinall,
With whom your selfe, my selfe, and other Lords,
If you thinke meete, this afternoone will poast
To consummate this businesse happily
   Bast. Let it be so, and you my noble Prince,
With other Princes that may best be spar'd,
Shall waite vpon your Fathers Funerall
   Hen. At Worster must his bodie be interr'd,
For so he will'd it
   Bast. Thither shall it then,
And happily may your sweet selfe put on
The lineall state, and glorie of the Land,
To whom with all submission on my knee,
I do bequeath my faithfull seruices
And true subiection euerlastingly
   Sal. And the like tender of our loue wee make
To rest without a spot for euermore
   Hen. I haue a kinde soule, that would giue thankes,
And knowes not how to do it, but with teares
   Bast. Oh let vs pay the time: but needfull woe,
Since it hath beene before hand with our greefes.
This England neuer did, nor neuer shall
Lye at the proud foote of a Conqueror,
But when it first did helpe to wound it selfe.
Now, these her Princes are come home againe,
Come the three corners of the world in Armes,
And we shall shocke them: Naught shall make vs rue,
If England to it selfe, do rest but true.
The life and death of King Iohn.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The life and death of King Richard the Second
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter King Richard, Iohn of Gaunt, with other Nobles and
  King Richard. Old Iohn of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster,
Hast thou according to thy oath and band
Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold son:
Heere to make good y boistrous late appeale,
Which then our leysure would not let vs heare,
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?
  Gaunt. I haue my Liege
   King. Tell me moreouer, hast thou sounded him,
If he appeale the Duke on ancient malice,
Or worthily as a good subiect should
On some knowne ground of treacherie in him
   Gaunt. As neere as I could sift him on that argument,
On some apparant danger seene in him,
Aym'd at your Highnesse, no inueterate malice
   Kin. Then call them to our presence face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, our selues will heare
Th' accuser, and the accused, freely speake;
High stomack'd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage, deafe as the sea; hastie as fire.
Enter Bullingbrooke and Mowbray.
  Bul. Many yeares of happy dayes befall
My gracious Soueraigne, my most louing Liege
   Mow. Each day still better others happinesse,
Vntill the heauens enuying earths good hap,
Adde an immortall title to your Crowne
   King. We thanke you both, yet one but flatters vs,
As well appeareth by the cause you come,
Namely, to appeale each other of high treason.
Coosin of Hereford, what dost thou obiect
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?
  Bul. First, heauen be the record to my speech,
In the deuotion of a subiects loue,
Tendering the precious safetie of my Prince,
And free from other misbegotten hate,
Come I appealant to this Princely presence.
Now Thomas Mowbray do I turne to thee,
And marke my greeting well: for what I speake,
My body shall make good vpon this earth,
Or my diuine soule answer it in heauen.
Thou art a Traitor, and a Miscreant;
Too good to be so, and too bad to liue,
Since the more faire and christall is the skie,
The vglier seeme the cloudes that in it flye:
Once more, the more to aggrauate the note,
With a foule Traitors name stuffe I thy throte,
And wish (so please my Soueraigne) ere I moue,
What my tong speaks, my right drawn sword may proue
  Mow. Let not my cold words heere accuse my zeale:
'Tis not the triall of a Womans warre,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt vs twaine:
The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this.
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be husht, and nought at all to say.
First the faire reuerence of your Highnesse curbes mee,
From giuing reines and spurres to my free speech,
Which else would post, vntill it had return'd
These tearmes of treason, doubly downe his throat.
Setting aside his high bloods royalty,
And let him be no Kinsman to my Liege,
I do defie him, and I spit at him,
Call him a slanderous Coward, and a Villaine:
Which to maintaine, I would allow him oddes,
And meete him, were I tide to runne afoote,
Euen to the frozen ridges of the Alpes,
Or any other ground inhabitable,
Where euer Englishman durst set his foote.
Meane time, let this defend my loyaltie,
By all my hopes most falsely doth he lie
   Bul. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage,
Disclaiming heere the kindred of a King,
And lay aside my high bloods Royalty,
Which feare, not reuerence makes thee to except.
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take vp mine Honors pawne, then stoope.
By that, and all the rites of Knight-hood else,
Will I make good against thee arme to arme,
What I haue spoken, or thou canst deuise
   Mow. I take it vp, and by that sword I sweare,
Which gently laid my Knight-hood on my shoulder,
Ile answer thee in any faire degree,
Or Chiualrous designe of knightly triall:
And when I mount, aliue may I not light,
If I be Traitor, or vniustly fight
   King. What doth our Cosin lay to Mowbraies charge?
It must be great that can inherite vs,
So much as of a thought of ill in him
   Bul. Looke what I said, my life shall proue it true,
That Mowbray hath receiu'd eight thousand Nobles,
In name of lendings for your Highnesse Soldiers,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
Like a false Traitor, and iniurious Villaine.
Besides I say, and will in battaile proue,
Or heere, or elsewhere to the furthest Verge
That euer was suruey'd by English eye,
That all the Treasons for these eighteene yeeres
Complotted, and contriued in this Land,
Fetch'd from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
Further I say, and further will maintaine
Vpon his bad life, to make all this good.
That he did plot the Duke of Glousters death,
Suggest his soone beleeuing aduersaries,
And consequently, like a Traitor Coward,
Sluc'd out his innocent soule through streames of blood:
Which blood, like sacrificing Abels cries,
(Euen from the toonglesse cauernes of the earth)
To me for iustice, and rough chasticement:
And by the glorious worth of my discent,
This arme shall do it, or this life be spent
   King. How high a pitch his resolution soares:
Thomas of Norfolke, what sayest thou to this?
  Mow. Oh let my Soueraigne turne away his face,
And bid his eares a little while be deafe,
Till I haue told this slander of his blood,
How God, and good men, hate so foule a lyar
   King. Mowbray, impartiall are our eyes and eares,
Were he my brother, nay our kingdomes heyre,
As he is but my fathers brothers sonne;
Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow,
Such neighbour-neerenesse to our sacred blood,
Should nothing priuiledge him, nor partialize
The vn-stooping firmenesse of my vpright soule.
He is our subiect (Mowbray) so art thou,
Free speech, and fearelesse, I to thee allow
   Mow. Then Bullingbrooke, as low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat; thou lyest:
Three parts of that receipt I had for Callice,
Disburst I to his Highnesse souldiers;
The other part reseru'd I by consent,
For that my Soueraigne Liege was in my debt,
Vpon remainder of a deere Accompt,
Since last I went to France to fetch his Queene:
Now swallow downe that Lye. For Glousters death,
I slew him not; but (to mine owne disgrace)
Neglected my sworne duty in that case:
For you my noble Lord of Lancaster,
The honourable Father to my foe,
Once I did lay an ambush for your life,
A trespasse that doth vex my greeued soule:
But ere I last receiu'd the Sacrament,
I did confesse it, and exactly begg'd
Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it.
This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd,
It issues from the rancour of a Villaine,
A recreant, and most degenerate Traitor,
Which in my selfe I boldly will defend,
And interchangeably hurle downe my gage
Vpon this ouer-weening Traitors foote,
To proue my selfe a loyall Gentleman,
Euen in the best blood chamber'd in his bosome.
In hast whereof, most heartily I pray
Your Highnesse to assigne our Triall day
   King. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me:
Let's purge this choller without letting blood:
This we prescribe, though no Physition,
Deepe malice makes too deepe incision.
Forget, forgiue, conclude, and be agreed,
Our Doctors say, This is no time to bleed.
Good Vnckle, let this end where it begun,
Wee'l calme the Duke of Norfolke; you, your son
   Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age,
Throw downe (my sonne) the Duke of Norfolkes gage
   King. And Norfolke, throw downe his
   Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids,
Obedience bids I should not bid agen
   King. Norfolke, throw downe, we bidde; there is
   Mow. My selfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy foot.
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame,
The one my dutie owes, but my faire name
Despight of death, that liues vpon my graue
To darke dishonours vse, thou shalt not haue.
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffel'd heere,
Pierc'd to the soule with slanders venom'd speare:
The which no balme can cure, but his heart blood
Which breath'd this poyson
   King. Rage must be withstood:
Giue me his gage: Lyons make Leopards tame
   Mo. Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame,
And I resigne my gage. My deere, deere Lord,
The purest treasure mortall times afford
Is spotlesse reputation: that away,
Men are but gilded loame, or painted clay.
A Iewell in a ten times barr'd vp Chest,
Is a bold spirit, in a loyall brest.
Mine Honor is my life; both grow in one:
Take Honor from me, and my life is done.
Then (deere my Liege) mine Honor let me trie,
In that I liue; and for that will I die
   King. Coosin, throw downe your gage,
Do you begin
   Bul. Oh heauen defend my soule from such foule sin.
Shall I seeme Crest-falne in my fathers sight,
Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my hight
Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my toong,
Shall wound mine honor with such feeble wrong;
Or sound so base a parle: my teeth shall teare
The slauish motiue of recanting feare,
And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
Where shame doth harbour, euen in Mowbrayes face.
  King. We were not borne to sue, but to command,
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be readie, (as your liues shall answer it)
At Couentree, vpon S[aint]. Lamberts day:
There shall your swords and Lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your setled hate:
Since we cannot attone you, you shall see
Iustice designe the Victors Chiualrie.
Lord Marshall, command our Officers at Armes,
Be readie to direct these home Alarmes.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Gaunt, and Dutchesse of Gloucester.
  Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glousters blood,
Doth more solicite me then your exclaimes,
To stirre against the Butchers of his life.
But since correction lyeth in those hands
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen,
Who when they see the houres ripe on earth,
Will raigne hot vengeance on offenders heads
   Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre?
Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire?
Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art one)
Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood,
Or seuen faire branches springing from one roote:
Some of those seuen are dride by natures course,
Some of those branches by the destinies cut:
But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glouster,
One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;
Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded
By Enuies hand, and Murders bloody Axe.
Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe,
That mettle, that selfe-mould that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man: and though thou liu'st, and breath'st,
Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy Fathers death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother dye,
Who was the modell of thy Fathers life.
Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is dispaire,
In suffring thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee:
That which in meane men we intitle patience
Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests:
What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life,
The best way is to venge my Glousters death
   Gaunt. Heauens is the quarrell: for heauens substitute
His Deputy annointed in his sight,
Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully
Let heauen reuenge: for I may neuer lift
An angry arme against his Minister
   Dut. Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe?
  Gau. To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence
  Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt.
Thou go'st to Couentrie, there to behold
Our Cosine Herford, and fell Mowbray fight:
O sit my husbands wrongs on Herfords speare,
That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes brest:
Or if misfortune misse the first carreere,
Be Mowbrayes sinnes so heauy in his bosome,
That they may breake his foaming Coursers backe,
And throw the Rider headlong in the Lists,
A Caytiffe recreant to my Cosine Herford:
Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife
With her companion Greefe, must end her life
   Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree,
As much good stay with thee, as go with mee
   Dut. Yet one word more: Greefe boundeth where it falls,
Not with the emptie hollownes, but weight:
I take my leaue, before I haue begun,
For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done.
Commend me to my brother Edmund Yorke.
Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not so,
Though this be all, do not so quickly go,
I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what?
With all good speed at Plashie visit mee.
Alacke, and what shall good old Yorke there see
But empty lodgings, and vnfurnish'd walles,
Vn-peopel'd Offices, vntroden stones?
And what heare there for welcome, but my grones?
Therefore commend me, let him not come there,
To seeke out sorrow, that dwels euery where:
Desolate, desolate will I hence, and dye,
The last leaue of thee, takes my weeping eye.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Marshall, and Aumerle.
  Mar. My L[ord]. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd
   Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in
   Mar. The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold,
Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet
   Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay
For nothing but his Maiesties approach.
Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then
Mowbray in Armor,
and Harrold.
  Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion
The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes,
Aske him his name, and orderly proceed
To sweare him in the iustice of his cause
   Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings say who y art,
And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes?
Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell,
Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath,
As so defend thee heauen, and thy valour
   Mow. My name is Tho[mas]. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
Who hither comes engaged by my oath
(Which heauen defend a knight should violate)
Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
To God, my King, and his succeeding issue,
Against the Duke of Herford, that appeales me:
And by the grace of God, and this mine arme,
To proue him (in defending of my selfe)
A Traitor to my God, my King, and me,
And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.
Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold.
  Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes,
Both who he is, and why he commeth hither,
Thus placed in habiliments of warre:
And formerly according to our Law
Depose him in the iustice of his cause
   Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst y hither
Before King Richard in his Royall Lists?
Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell?
Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen
   Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie,
Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes,
To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour,
In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke,
That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous,
To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me,
And as I truly fight, defend me heauen
   Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold,
Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes,
Except the Marshall, and such Officers
Appointed to direct these faire designes
   Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand,
And bow my knee before his Maiestie:
For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men,
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage,
Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue
And louing farwell of our seuerall friends
   Mar. The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes,
And craues to kisse your hand, and take his leaue
   Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our armes.
Cosin of Herford, as thy cause is iust,
So be thy fortune in this Royall fight:
Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead,
Lament we may, but not reuenge thee dead
   Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbrayes speare:
As confident, as is the Falcons flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you,
Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle;
Not sicke, although I haue to do with death,
But lustie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath.
Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
Oh thou the earthy author of my blood,
Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate,
Doth with a two-fold rigor lift mee vp
To reach at victory aboue my head,
Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres,
And with thy blessings steele my Lances point,
That it may enter Mowbrayes waxen Coate,
And furnish new the name of Iohn a Gaunt,
Euen in the lusty hauiour of his sonne
   Gaunt. Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous
Be swift like lightning in the execution,
And let thy blowes doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske
Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy.
Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue
   Bul. Mine innocence, and S[aint]. George to thriue
   Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot,
There liues, or dies, true to Kings Richards Throne,
A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman:
Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart,
Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace
His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement,
More then my dancing soule doth celebrate
This Feast of Battell, with mine Aduersarie.
Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres,
Take from my mouth, the wish of happy yeares,
As gentle, and as iocond, as to iest,
Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest
   Rich. Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy
Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye:
Order the triall Marshall, and begin
   Mar. Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right
   Bul. Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen
   Mar. Go beare this Lance to Thomas D[uke]. of Norfolke
   1.Har. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie,
Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe,
On paine to be found false, and recreant,
To proue the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray,
A Traitor to his God, his King, and him,
And dares him to set forwards to the fight
   2.Har. Here standeth Tho[mas]: Mowbray Duke of Norfolk
On paine to be found false and recreant,
Both to defend himselfe, and to approue
Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall:
Couragiously, and with a free desire
Attending but the signall to begin.
A charge sounded
  Mar. Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants:
Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe
   Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares,
And both returne backe to their Chaires againe:
Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets sound,
While we returne these Dukes what we decree.
A long Flourish.
Draw neere and list
What with our Councell we haue done.
For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld
With that deere blood which it hath fostered,
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords,
Which so rouz'd vp with boystrous vntun'd drummes,
With harsh resounding Trumpets dreadfull bray,
And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes,
Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace,
And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood:
Therefore, we banish you our Territories.
You Cosin Herford, vpon paine of death,
Till twice fiue Summers haue enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regreet our faire dominions,
But treade the stranger pathes of banishment
   Bul. Your will be done: This must my comfort be,
That Sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me:
And those his golden beames to you heere lent,
Shall point on me, and gild my banishment
   Rich. Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe,
Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce,
The slye slow houres shall not determinate
The datelesse limit of thy deere exile:
The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne,
Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life
   Mow. A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege,
And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth:
A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime,
As to be cast forth in the common ayre
Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands.
The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares
(My natiue English) now I must forgo,
And now my tongues vse is to me no more,
Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe,
Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp,
Or being open, put into his hands
That knowes no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue,
Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes,
And dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance,
Is made my Gaoler to attend on me:
I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse,
Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now:
What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath?
  Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate,
After our sentence, plaining comes too late
   Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light
To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night
   Ric. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee,
Lay on our Royall sword, your banisht hands;
Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen
(Our part therein we banish with your selues)
To keepe the Oath that we administer:
You neuer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen)
Embrace each others loue in banishment,
Nor euer looke vpon each others face,
Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile
This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate,
Nor euer by aduised purpose meete,
To plot, contriue, or complot any ill,
'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land
   Bull. I sweare
   Mow. And I, to keepe all this
   Bul. Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie,
By this time (had the King permitted vs)
One of our soules had wandred in the ayre,
Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh,
As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land.
Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme,
Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along
The clogging burthen of a guilty soule
   Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor,
My name be blotted from the booke of Life,
And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence:
But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know,
And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue.
Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray,
Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way.
  Rich. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect,
Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares
Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent,
Returne with welcome home, from banishment
   Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word:
Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs
End in a word, such is the breath of Kings
   Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me
He shortens foure yeares of my sonnes exile:
But little vantage shall I reape thereby.
For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend
Can change their Moones, and bring their times about,
My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewasted light
Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night:
My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done,
And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne
   Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue
   Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue;
Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow,
And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow:
Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage:
Thy word is currant with him, for my death,
But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath
   Ric. Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gaue,
Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre?
  Gau. Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre:
You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather
You would haue bid me argue like a Father.
Alas, I look'd when some of you should say,
I was too strict to make mine owne away:
But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong,
Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong
   Rich. Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so:
Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go.
  Au. Cosine farewell: what presence must not know
From where you do remaine, let paper show
   Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride
As farre as land will let me, by your side
   Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words,
That thou returnst no greeting to thy friends?
  Bull. I haue too few to take my leaue of you,
When the tongues office should be prodigall,
To breath th' abundant dolour of the heart
   Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time
   Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time
   Gau. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone?
  Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten
   Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure
   Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so,
Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage
   Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes
Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set
The precious Iewell of thy home returne
   Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frostie Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a Feast?
Or Wallow naked in December snow
By thinking on fantasticke summers heate?
Oh no, the apprehension of the good
Giues but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more
Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore
   Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way
Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay
   Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu,
My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet:
Where ere I wander, boast of this I can,
Though banish'd, yet a true-borne Englishman.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.
  Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Aumerle,
How far brought you high Herford on his way?
  Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so)
But to the next high way, and there I left him
   Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
  Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind
Which then grew bitterly against our face,
Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance
Did grace our hollow parting with a teare
   Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him?
  Au. Farewell: and for my hart disdained y my tongue
Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft
To counterfeit oppression of such greefe,
That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue.
Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres,
And added yeeres to his short banishment,
He should haue had a volume of Farwels,
But since it would not, he had none of me
   Rich. He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt,
When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends,
Our selfe, and Bushy: heere Bagot and Greene
Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people:
How he did seeme to diue into their hearts,
With humble, and familiar courtesie,
What reuerence he did throw away on slaues;
Wooing poore Craftes-men, with the craft of soules,
And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune,
As 'twere to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster-wench,
A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends,
As were our England in reuersion his,
And he our subiects next degree in hope
   Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts:
Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland,
Expedient manage must be made my Liege
Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes
For their aduantage, and your Highnesse losse
   Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre,
And for our Coffers, with too great a Court,
And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat light,
We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme,
The Reuennew whereof shall furnish vs
For our affayres in hand: if that come short
Our Substitutes at home shall haue Blanke-charters:
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold,
And send them after to supply our wants:
For we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter Bushy.
Bushy, what newes?
  Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord,
Sodainly taken, and hath sent post haste
To entreat your Maiesty to visit him
   Ric. Where lyes he?
  Bu. At Ely house
   Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde,
To helpe him to his graue immediately:
The lining of his coffers shall make Coates
To decke our souldiers for these Irish warres.
Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him:
Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke.
  Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my last
In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth?
  Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth,
For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare
   Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men
Inforce attention like deepe harmony;
Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine,
For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine.
He that no more must say, is listen'd more,
Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose,
More are mens ends markt, then their liues before,
The setting Sun, and Musicke in the close
As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last,
Writ in remembrance, more then things long past;
Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare,
My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare
   Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds
As praises of his state: then there are found
Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound
The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen.
Report of fashions in proud Italy,
Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation
Limpes after in base imitation.
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity,
So it be new, there's no respect how vile,
That is not quickly buz'd into his eares?
That all too late comes counsell to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wits regard:
Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose,
Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose
   Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd,
And thus expiring, do foretell of him,
His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last,
For violent fires soone burne out themselues,
Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short,
He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe.
This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle,
This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars,
This other Eden, demy paradise,
This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe,
Against infection, and the hand of warre:
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone, set in the siluer sea,
Which serues it in the office of a wall,
Or as a Moate defensiue to a house,
Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,
This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth,
Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home,
For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie,
As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury
Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne.
This Land of such deere soules, this deere-deere Land,
Deere for her reputation through the world,
Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)
Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.
England bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds.
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe.
Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death?
Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and
  Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth,
For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more
   Qu. How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?
  Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt?
  Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition:
Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:
Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast,
And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time haue I watcht,
Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt.
The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon,
Is my strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes,
And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt:
Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue,
Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones
   Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names?
  Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe:
Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mee,
I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee
   Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue?
  Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye
   Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me
   Gau. Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be
   Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill
   Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill:
Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill,
Thy death-bed is no lesser then the Land,
Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke,
And thou too care-lesse patient as thou art,
Commit'st thy 'anointed body to the cure
Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee.
A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne,
Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head,
And yet incaged in so small a Verge,
The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land:
Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye,
Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes,
From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame,
Deposing thee before thou wert possest,
Which art possest now to depose thy selfe.
Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world,
It were a shame to let his Land by lease:
But for thy world enioying but this Land,
Is it not more then shame, to shame it so?
Landlord of England art thou, and not King:
Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law,
  Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole,
Presuming on an Agues priuiledge,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheeke, chasing the Royall blood
With fury, from his natiue residence?
Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie,
Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders
   Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne,
For that I was his Father Edwards sonne:
That blood already (like the Pellican)
Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd.
My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule
(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules)
May be a president, and witnesse good,
That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood:
Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue,
And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre.
Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee,
These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee.
Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue,
Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue.
  Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue,
For both hast thou, and both become the graue
   Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words
To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him:
He loues you on my life, and holds you deere
As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere
   Rich. Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his;
As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is.
Enter Northumberland.
  Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your
   Rich. What sayes he?
  Nor. Nay nothing, all is said:
His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument,
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent
   Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so,
Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo
   Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he,
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
So much for that. Now for our Irish warres,
We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes,
Which liue like venom, where no venom else
But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue.
And for these great affayres do aske some charge
Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs
The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables,
Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest
   Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long
Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong?
Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment,
Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs,
Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke,
About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace
Haue euer made me sowre my patient cheeke,
Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face:
I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes,
Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first,
In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce:
In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde,
Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman,
His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he
Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers:
But when he frown'd, it was against the French,
And not against his friends: his noble hand
Did win what he did spend: and spent not that
Which his triumphant fathers hand had won:
His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kinne:
Oh Richard, Yorke is too farre gone with greefe,
Or else he neuer would compare betweene
   Rich. Why Vncle,
What's the matter?
  Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not
I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all:
Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands
The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford liue?
Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserue to haue an heyre?
Is not his heyre a well-deseruing sonne?
Take Herfords rights away, and take from time
His Charters, and his customarie rights:
Let not to morrow then insue to day,
Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King
But by faire sequence and succession?
Now afore God, God forbid I say true,
If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right,
Call in his Letters Patents that he hath
By his Atturneyes generall, to sue
His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage,
You plucke a thousand dangers on your head,
You loose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke
   Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands,
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands
   Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell,
What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell.
But by bad courses may be vnderstood,
That their euents can neuer fall out good.
  Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight,
Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house,
To see this businesse: to morrow next
We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow:
And we create in absence of our selfe
Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England:
For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well.
Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part,
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
Manet North. Willoughby, & Ross.
  Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead
   Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke
   Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew
   Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right
   Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence,
Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue
   Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more
That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme
   Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du[ke]. of Hereford,
If it be so, out with it boldly man,
Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him
   Ross. No good at all that I can do for him,
Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie
   Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are
In him a royall Prince, and many moe
Of noble blood in this declining Land;
The King is not himselfe, but basely led
By Flatterers, and what they will informe
Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all,
That will the King seuerely prosecute
'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires
   Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes
And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts
   Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd,
As blankes, beneuolences, and I wot not what:
But what o' Gods name doth become of this?
  Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not.
But basely yeelded vpon comprimize,
That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes:
More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres
   Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme
   Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man
   Nor. Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him
   Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres:
(His burthenous taxations notwithstanding)
But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke
   Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:
But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing,
Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme:
We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish
   Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer,
And vnauoyded is the danger now
For suffering so the causes of our wracke
   Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death,
I spie life peering: but I dare not say
How neere the tidings of our comfort is
   Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours
  Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland,
We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so,
Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold
   Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan
A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence,
That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham,
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston,
Sir Iohn Norberie, & Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint,
All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine,
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre
Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore:
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay
The first departing of the King for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake,
Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing,
Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne,
Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt,
And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe,
Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh,
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go
   Ros. To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y feare
   Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.
  Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad,
You promis'd when you parted with the King,
To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse,
And entertaine a cheerefull disposition
   Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe
I cannot do it: yet I know no cause
Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe,
Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes,
Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe
Is comming towards me, and my inward soule
With nothing trembles, at something it greeues,
More then with parting from my Lord the King
   Bush. Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows
Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so:
For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares,
Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects,
Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon
Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry,
Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie
Looking awry vpon your Lords departure,
Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile,
Which look'd on as it is, is naught but shadowes
Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene,
More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not seene;
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie,
Which for things true, weepe things imaginary
   Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule
Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be,
I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad,
As though on thinking on no thought I thinke,
Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke
   Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.)
  Qu. 'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd
From some fore-father greefe, mine is not so,
For nothing hath begot my something greefe,
Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue,
'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,
But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what
I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot.
Enter Greene.
  Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentlemen:
I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland
   Qu. Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is:
For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope,
Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?
  Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power,
and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this Land.
The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe,
And with vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd
At Rauenspurg
   Qu. Now God in heauen forbid
   Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse,
The L[ord]. Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie,
The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powrefull friends are fled to him
   Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland
And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors?
  Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester
Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship,
And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook
  Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre:
Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie,
And I a gasping new deliuered mother,
Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd
   Bush. Dispaire not Madam
   Qu. Who shall hinder me?
I will dispaire, and be at enmitie
With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer,
A Parasite, a keeper backe of death,
Who gently would dissolue the bands of life,
Which false hopes linger in extremity.
Enter Yorke.
  Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke
   Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke,
Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes:
Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words:
  Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe:
Your husband he is gone to saue farre off,
Whilst others come to make him loose at home:
Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land,
Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe:
Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made,
Now shall he try his friends that flattered him.
Enter a seruant.
  Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came
   Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will:
The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold,
And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side.
Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster,
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound,
Hold, take my Ring
   Ser. My Lord, I had forgot
To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there,
But I shall greeue you to report the rest
   Yor. What is't knaue?
  Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de
   Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes
Come rushing on this wofull Land at once?
I know not what to do: I would to heauen
(So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it)
The King had cut off my head with my brothers.
What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland?
How shall we do for money for these warres?
Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me.
Go fellow, get thee home, prouide some Carts,
And bring away the Armour that is there.
Gentlemen, will you muster men?
If I know how, or which way to order these affaires
Thus disorderly thrust into my hands,
Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen,
Th' one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath
And dutie bids defend: th' other againe
Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd,
Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right:
Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen,
Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men,
And meet me presently at Barkley Castle:
I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit,
All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen.
  Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland,
But none returnes: For vs to leuy power
Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impossible
   Gr. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue,
Is neere the hate of those loue not the King
   Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue
Lies in their purses, and who so empties them,
By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate
   Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd
  Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then so do we,
Because we haue beene euer neere the King
   Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle,
The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there
   Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office
Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs,
Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces:
Will you go along with vs?
  Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiestie:
Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine,
We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe
   Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke
  Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes
Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie,
Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye
   Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer.
Well, we may meete againe
   Bag. I feare me neuer.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland.
  Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now?
  Nor. Beleeue me noble Lord,
I am a stranger heere in Gloustershire,
These high wilde hilles, and rough vneeuen waies,
Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearisome.
And yet our faire discourse hath beene as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable:
But I bethinke me, what a wearie way
From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found,
In Rosse and Willoughby, wanting your companie,
Which I protest hath very much beguild
The tediousnesse, and processe of my trauell:
But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue
The present benefit that I possesse;
And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy,
Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords
Shall make their way seeme short, as mine hath done,
By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie
   Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie,
Then your good words: but who comes here?
Enter H[arry]. Percie.
  North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie,
Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer.
Harry, how fares your Vnckle?
  Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his
health of you
   North. Why, is he not with the Queene?
  Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forsook the Court,
Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst
The Household of the King
   North. What was his reason?
He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together
   Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor.
But hee, my Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh,
To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford,
And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer
What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there,
Then with direction to repaire to Rauenspurgh
   North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.)
  Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot
Which ne're I did remember: to my knowledge,
I neuer in my life did looke on him
   North. Then learne to know him now: this is the
   Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young,
Which elder dayes shall ripen, and confirme
To more approued seruice, and desert
   Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure
I count my selfe in nothing else so happy,
As in a Soule remembring my good Friends:
And as my Fortune ripens with thy Loue,
It shall be still thy true Loues recompence,
My Heart this Couenant makes, my Hand thus seales it
   North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre
Keepes good old Yorke there, with his Men of Warre?
  Percie. There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees,
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard,
And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor,
None else of Name, and noble estimate.
Enter Rosse and Willoughby.
  North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby,
Bloody with spurring, fierie red with haste
   Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues
A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie
Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd,
Shall be your loue, and labours recompence
   Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord
   Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it
   Bull. Euermore thankes, th' Exchequer of the poore,
Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres,
Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here?
Enter Barkely.
  North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse
   Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you
   Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster,
And I am come to seeke that Name in England,
And I must finde that Title in your Tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say
   Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning
To raze one Title of your Honor out.
To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will)
From the most glorious of this Land,
The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on
To take aduantage of the absent time,
And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes.
Enter Yorke.
  Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you,
Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle
   York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose dutie is deceiuable, and false
   Bull. My gracious Vnckle
   York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me,
I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace,
In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane.
Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges,
Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground?
But more then why, why haue they dar'd to march
So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome,
Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre,
And ostentation of despised Armes?
Com'st thou because th' anoynted King is hence?
Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind,
And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power.
Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth,
As when braue Gaunt, thy Father, and my selfe
Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men,
From forth the Rankes of many thousand French:
Oh then, how quickly should this Arme of mine,
Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy Fault
   Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault,
On what Condition stands it, and wherein?
  York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree,
In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason:
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come
Before th' expiration of thy time,
In brauing Armes against thy Soueraigne
   Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford,
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace
Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye:
You are my Father, for me thinkes in you
I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father,
Will you permit, that I shall stand condemn'd
A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties
Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away
To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne?
If that my Cousin King, be King of England,
It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster.
You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kinsman,
Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe,
He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father,
To rowze his Wrongs, and chase them to the bay.
I am denyde to sue my Liuerie here,
And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue:
My Fathers goods are all distraynd, and sold,
And these, and all, are all amisse imployd.
What would you haue me doe? I am a Subiect,
And challenge Law: Attorneyes are deny'd me;
And therefore personally I lay my claime
To my Inheritance of free Discent
   North. The Noble Duke hath been too much abus'd
   Ross. It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right
   Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great
   York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this,
I haue had feeling of my Cosens Wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to doe him right:
But in this kind, to come in brauing Armes,
Be his owne Caruer, and cut out his way,
To find out Right with Wrongs, it may not be;
And you that doe abett him in this kind,
Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all
   North. The Noble Duke hath sworne his comming is
But for his owne; and for the right of that,
Wee all haue strongly sworne to giue him ayd,
And let him neu'r see Ioy, that breakes that Oath
   York. Well, well, I see the issue of these Armes,
I cannot mend it, I must needes confesse,
Because my power is weake, and all ill left:
But if I could, by him that gaue me life,
I would attach you all, and make you stoope
Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King.
But since I cannot, be it knowne to you,
I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well,
Vnlesse you please to enter in the Castle,
And there repose you for this Night
   Bull. An offer Vnckle, that wee will accept:
But wee must winne your Grace to goe with vs
To Bristow Castle, which they say is held
By Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices,
The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth,
Which I haue sworne to weed, and plucke away
   York. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawse,
For I am loth to breake our Countries Lawes:
Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you are,
Things past redresse, are now with me past care.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine.
  Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we haue stayd ten dayes,
And hardly kept our Countreymen together,
And yet we heare no tidings from the King;
Therefore we will disperse our selues: farewell
   Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trustie Welchman,
The King reposeth all his confidence in thee
   Capt. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay;
The Bay-trees in our Countrey all are wither'd,
And Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heauen;
The pale-fac'd Moone lookes bloody on the Earth,
And leane-look'd Prophets whisper fearefull change;
Rich men looke sad, and Ruffians dance and leape,
The one in feare, to loose what they enioy,
The other to enioy by Rage, and Warre:
These signes fore-run the death of Kings.
Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled,
As well assur'd Richard their King is dead.
  Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind,
I see thy Glory, like a shooting Starre,
Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament:
Thy Sunne sets weeping in the lowly West,
Witnessing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnrest:
Thy Friends are fled, to wait vpon thy Foes,
And crossely to thy good, all fortune goes.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Rosse, Percie,
with Bushie and Greene Prisoners.
  Bull. Bring forth these men:
Bushie and Greene, I will not vex your soules,
(Since presently your soules must part your bodies)
With too much vrging your pernitious liues,
For 'twere no Charitie: yet to wash your blood
From off my hands, here in the view of men,
I will vnfold some causes of your deaths.
You haue mis-led a Prince, a Royall King,
A happie Gentleman in Blood, and Lineaments,
By you vnhappied, and disfigur'd cleane:
You haue in manner with your sinfull houres
Made a Diuorce betwixt his Queene and him,
Broke the possession of a Royall Bed,
And stayn'd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes,
With teares drawn fro[m] her eyes, with your foule wrongs.
My selfe a Prince, by fortune of my birth,
Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue,
Till you did make him mis-interprete me,
Haue stoopt my neck vnder your iniuries,
And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment;
While you haue fed vpon my Seignories,
Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods;
From mine owne Windowes torne my Household Coat,
Raz'd out my Impresse, leauing me no signe,
Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood,
To shew the World I am a Gentleman.
This, and much more, much more then twice all this,
Condemnes you to the death: see them deliuered ouer
To execution, and the hand of death
   Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me,
Then Bullingbrooke to England
   Greene. My comfort is, that Heauen will take our soules,
And plague Iniustice with the paines of Hell
   Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd:
Vnckle, you say the Queene is at your House,
For Heauens sake fairely let her be entreated,
Tell her I send to her my kind commends;
Take speciall care my Greetings be deliuer'd
   York. A Gentleman of mine I haue dispatch'd
With Letters of your loue, to her at large
   Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away,
To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices;
A while to worke, and after holliday.
Scena Secunda.
Drums: Flourish, and Colours. Enter Richard, Aumerle, Carlile,
  Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand?
  Au. Yea, my Lord: how brooks your Grace the ayre,
After your late tossing on the breaking Seas?
  Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weepe for ioy
To stand vpon my Kingdome once againe.
Deere Earth, I doe salute thee with my hand,
Though Rebels wound thee with their Horses hoofes:
As a long parted Mother with her Child,
Playes fondly with her teares, and smiles in meeting;
So weeping, smiling, greet I thee my Earth,
And doe thee fauor with my Royall hands.
Feed not thy Soueraignes Foe, my gentle Earth,
Nor with thy Sweetes, comfort his rauenous sence:
But let thy Spiders, that suck vp thy Venome,
And heauie-gated Toades lye in their way,
Doing annoyance to the trecherous feete,
Which with vsurping steps doe trample thee.
Yeeld stinging Nettles to mine Enemies;
And when they from thy Bosome pluck a Flower,
Guard it I prethee with a lurking Adder,
Whose double tongue may with a mortall touch
Throw death vpon thy Soueraignes Enemies.
Mock not my sencelesse Coniuration, Lords;
This Earth shall haue a feeling, and these Stones
Proue armed Souldiers, ere her Natiue King
Shall falter vnder foule Rebellious Armes
   Car. Feare not my Lord, that Power that made you King
Hath power to keepe you King, in spight of all
   Aum. He meanes, my Lord, that we are too remisse,
Whilest Bullingbrooke through our securitie,
Growes strong and great, in substance and in friends
   Rich. Discomfortable Cousin, knowest thou not,
That when the searching Eye of Heauen is hid
Behind the Globe, that lights the lower World,
Then Theeues and Robbers raunge abroad vnseene,
In Murthers and in Out-rage bloody here:
But when from vnder this Terrestriall Ball
He fires the prowd tops of the Easterne Pines,
And darts his Lightning through eu'ry guiltie hole,
Then Murthers, Treasons, and detested sinnes
(The Cloake of Night being pluckt from off their backs)
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselues.
So when this Theefe, this Traytor Bullingbrooke,
Who all this while hath reuell'd in the Night,
Shall see vs rising in our Throne, the East,
His Treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of Day;
But selfe-affrighted, tremble at his sinne.
Not all the Water in the rough rude Sea
Can wash the Balme from an anoynted King;
The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The Deputie elected by the Lord:
For euery man that Bullingbrooke hath prest,
To lift shrewd Steele against our Golden Crowne,
Heauen for his Richard hath in heauenly pay
A glorious Angell: then if Angels fight,
Weake men must fall, for Heauen still guards the right.
Enter Salisbury.
Welcome my Lord, how farre off lyes your Power?
  Salisb. Nor neere, nor farther off, my gracious Lord,
Then this weake arme; discomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speake of nothing but despaire:
One day too late, I feare (my Noble Lord)
Hath clouded all thy happie dayes on Earth:
Oh call backe Yesterday, bid Time returne,
And thou shalt haue twelue thousand fighting men:
To day, to day, vnhappie day too late
Orethrowes thy Ioyes, Friends, Fortune, and thy State;
For all the Welchmen hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bullingbrooke, disperst, and fled
   Aum. Comfort my Liege, why lookes your Grace so
  Rich. But now the blood of twentie thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled,
And till so much blood thither come againe,
Haue I not reason to looke pale, and dead?
All Soules that will be safe, flye from my side,
For Time hath set a blot vpon my pride
   Aum. Comfort my Liege, remember who you are
   Rich. I had forgot my selfe. Am I not King?
Awake thou sluggard Maiestie, thou sleepest:
Is not the Kings Name fortie thousand Names?
Arme, arme my Name: a punie subiect strikes
At thy great glory. Looke not to the ground,
Ye Fauorites of a King: are wee not high?
High be our thoughts: I know my Vnckle Yorke
Hath Power enough to serue our turne.
But who comes here?
Enter Scroope.
  Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege,
Then can my care-tun'd tongue deliuer him
   Rich. Mine eare is open, and my heart prepar'd:
The worst is worldly losse, thou canst vnfold:
Say, Is my Kingdome lost? why 'twas my Care:
And what losse is it to be rid of Care?
Striues Bullingbrooke to be as Great as wee?
Greater he shall not be: If hee serue God,
Wee'l serue him too, and be his Fellow so.
Reuolt our Subiects? That we cannot mend,
They breake their Faith to God, as well as vs:
Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruine, Losse, Decay,
The worst is Death, and Death will haue his day
   Scroope. Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd
To beare the tidings of Calamitie.
Like an vnseasonable stormie day,
Which make the Siluer Riuers drowne their Shores,
As if the World were all dissolu'd to teares:
So high, aboue his Limits, swells the Rage
Of Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull Land
With hard bright Steele, and hearts harder then Steele:
White Beares haue arm'd their thin and hairelesse Scalps
Against thy Maiestie, and Boyes with Womens Voyces,
Striue to speake bigge, and clap their female ioints
In stiffe vnwieldie Armes: against thy Crowne
Thy very Beads-men learne to bend their Bowes
Of double fatall Eugh: against thy State
Yea Distaffe-Women manage rustie Bills:
Against thy Seat both young and old rebell,
And all goes worse then I haue power to tell
   Rich. Too well, too well thou tell'st a Tale so ill.
Where is the Earle of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?
What is become of Bushie? where is Greene?
That they haue let the dangerous Enemie
Measure our Confines with such peacefull steps?
If we preuaile, their heads shall pay for it.
I warrant they haue made peace with Bullingbrooke
   Scroope. Peace haue they made with him indeede (my
  Rich. Oh Villains, Vipers, damn'd without redemption,
Dogges, easily woon to fawne on any man,
Snakes in my heart blood warm'd, that sting my heart,
Three Iudasses, each one thrice worse then Iudas,
Would they make peace? terrible Hell make warre
Vpon their spotted Soules for this Offence
   Scroope. Sweet Loue (I see) changing his propertie,
Turnes to the sowrest, and most deadly hate:
Againe vncurse their Soules; their peace is made
With Heads, and not with Hands: those whom you curse
Haue felt the worst of Deaths destroying hand,
And lye full low, grau'd in the hollow ground
   Aum. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire
  Scroope. Yea, all of them at Bristow lost their heads
   Aum. Where is the Duke my Father with his Power?
  Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speake:
Let's talke of Graues, of Wormes, and Epitaphs,
Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes
Write Sorrow on the Bosome of the Earth.
Let's chuse Executors, and talke of Wills:
And yet not so; for what can we bequeath,
Saue our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our Lands, our Liues, and all are Bullingbrookes,
And nothing can we call our owne, but Death,
And that small Modell of the barren Earth,
Which serues as Paste, and Couer to our Bones:
For Heauens sake let vs sit vpon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of Kings:
How some haue been depos'd, some slaine in warre,
Some haunted by the Ghosts they haue depos'd,
Some poyson'd by their Wiues, some sleeping kill'd,
All murther'd. For within the hollow Crowne
That rounds the mortall Temples of a King,
Keepes Death his Court, and there the Antique sits
Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pompe,
Allowing him a breath, a little Scene,
To Monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with lookes,
Infusing him with selfe and vaine conceit,
As if this Flesh, which walls about our Life,
Were Brasse impregnable: and humor'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little Pinne
Bores through his Castle Walls, and farwell King.
Couer your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemne Reuerence: throw away Respect,
Tradition, Forme, and Ceremonious dutie,
For you haue but mistooke me all this while:
I liue with Bread like you, feele Want,
Taste Griefe, need Friends: subiected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a King?
  Carl. My Lord, wise men ne're waile their present woes,
But presently preuent the wayes to waile:
To feare the Foe, since feare oppresseth strength,
Giues in your weakenesse, strength vnto your Foe;
Feare, and be slaine, no worse can come to sight,
And fight and die, is death destroying death,
Where fearing, dying, payes death seruile breath
   Aum. My Father hath a Power, enquire of him;
And learne to make a Body of a Limbe
   Rich. Thou chid'st me well: proud Bullingbrooke I come
To change Blowes with thee, for our day of Doome:
This ague fit of feare is ouer-blowne,
An easie taske it is to winne our owne.
Say Scroope, where lyes our Vnckle with his Power?
Speake sweetly man, although thy lookes be sowre
   Scroope. Men iudge by the complexion of the Skie
The state and inclination of the day;
So may you by my dull and heauie Eye:
My Tongue hath but a heauier Tale to say:
I play the Torturer, by small and small
To lengthen out the worst, that must be spoken.
Your Vnckle Yorke is ioyn'd with Bullingbrooke,
And all your Northerne Castles yeelded vp,
And all your Southerne Gentlemen in Armes
Vpon his Faction
   Rich. Thou hast said enough.
Beshrew thee Cousin, which didst lead me forth
Of that sweet way I was in, to despaire:
What say you now? What comfort haue we now?
By Heauen Ile hate him euerlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more.
Goe to Flint Castle, there Ile pine away,
A King, Woes slaue, shall Kingly Woe obey:
That Power I haue, discharge, and let 'em goe
To eare the Land, that hath some hope to grow,
For I haue none. Let no man speake againe
To alter this, for counsaile is but vaine
   Aum. My Liege, one word
   Rich. He does me double wrong,
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
Discharge my followers: let them hence away,
From Richards Night, to Bullingbrookes faire Day.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter with Drum and Colours, Bullingbrooke, Yorke,
Northumberland,
  Bull. So that by this intelligence we learne
The Welchmen are dispers'd, and Salisbury
Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed
With some few priuate friends, vpon this Coast
   North. The newes is very faire and good, my Lord,
Richard, not farre from hence, hath hid his head
   York. It would beseeme the Lord Northumberland,
To say King Richard: alack the heauie day,
When such a sacred King should hide his head
   North. Your Grace mistakes: onely to be briefe,
Left I his Title out
   York. The time hath beene,
Would you haue beene so briefe with him, he would
Haue beene so briefe with you, to shorten you,
For taking so the Head, your whole heads length
   Bull. Mistake not (Vnckle) farther then you should
   York. Take not (good Cousin) farther then you should.
Least you mistake the Heauens are ore your head
   Bull. I know it (Vnckle) and oppose not my selfe
Against their will. But who comes here?
Enter Percie.
Welcome Harry: what, will not this Castle yeeld?
  Per. The Castle royally is mann'd, my Lord,
Against thy entrance
   Bull. Royally? Why, it containes no King?
  Per. Yes (my good Lord)
It doth containe a King: King Richard lyes
Within the limits of yond Lime and Stone,
And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroope, besides a Clergie man
Of holy reuerence; who, I cannot learne
   North. Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlile
   Bull. Noble Lord,
Goe to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle,
Through Brazen Trumpet send the breath of Parle
Into his ruin'd Eares, and thus deliuer:
Henry Bullingbrooke vpon his knees doth kisse
King Richards hand, and sends allegeance
And true faith of heart to his Royall Person: hither come
Euen at his feet, to lay my Armes and Power,
Prouided, that my Banishment repeal'd,
And Lands restor'd againe, be freely graunted:
If not, Ile vse th 'aduantage of my Power,
And lay the Summers dust with showers of blood,
Rayn'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen;
The which, how farre off from the mind of Bullingbrooke
It is, such Crimson Tempest should bedrench
The fresh greene Lap of faire King Richards Land,
My stooping dutie tenderly shall shew.
Goe signifie as much, while here we march
Vpon the Grassie Carpet of this Plaine:
Let's march without the noyse of threatning Drum,
That from this Castles tatter'd Battlements
Our faire Appointments may be well perus'd.
Me thinkes King Richard and my selfe should meet
With no lesse terror then the Elements
Of Fire and Water, when their thundring smoake
At meeting teares the cloudie Cheekes of Heauen:
Be he the fire, Ile be the yeelding Water;
The Rage be his, while on the Earth I raine
My Waters on the Earth, and not on him.
March on, and marke King Richard how he lookes.
Parle without, and answere within: then a Flourish. Enter on the
Richard, Carlile, Aumerle, Scroop, Salisbury.
See, see, King Richard doth himselfe appeare
As doth the blushing discontented Sunne,
From out the fierie Portall of the East,
When he perceiues the enuious Clouds are bent
To dimme his glory, and to staine the tract
Of his bright passage to the Occident
   York. Yet lookes he like a King: behold his Eye
(As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth
Controlling Maiestie: alack, alack, for woe,
That any harme should staine so faire a shew
   Rich. Wee are amaz'd, and thus long haue we stood
To watch the fearefull bending of thy knee,
Because we thought our selfe thy lawfull King:
And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget
To pay their awfull dutie to our presence?
If we be not, shew vs the Hand of God,
That hath dismiss'd vs from our Stewardship,
For well wee know, no Hand of Blood and Bone
Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Scepter,
Vnlesse he doe prophane, steale, or vsurpe.
And though you thinke, that all, as you haue done,
Haue torne their Soules, by turning them from vs,
And we are barren, and bereft of Friends:
Yet know, my Master, God Omnipotent,
Is mustring in his Clouds, on our behalfe,
Armies of Pestilence, and they shall strike
Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot,
That lift your Vassall Hands against my Head,
And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne.
Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is,
That euery stride he makes vpon my Land,
Is dangerous Treason: He is come to ope
The purple Testament of bleeding Warre;
But ere the Crowne he lookes for, liue in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crownes of Mothers Sonnes
Shall ill become the flower of Englands face,
Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace
To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew
Her Pastors Grasse with faithfull English Blood
   North. The King of Heauen forbid our Lord the King
Should so with ciuill and vnciuill Armes
Be rush'd vpon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin,
Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kisse thy hand,
And by the Honorable Tombe he sweares,
That stands vpon your Royall Grandsires Bones,
And by the Royalties of both your Bloods,
(Currents that spring from one most gracious Head)
And by the buried Hand of Warlike Gaunt,
And by the Worth and Honor of himselfe,
Comprising all that may be sworne, or said,
His comming hither hath no further scope,
Then for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge
Infranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy Royall partie graunted once,
His glittering Armes he will commend to Rust,
His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart
To faithfull seruice of your Maiestie:
This sweares he, as he is a Prince, is iust,
And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him
   Rich. Northumberland, say thus: The King returnes,
His Noble Cousin is right welcome hither,
And all the number of his faire demands
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction:
With all the gracious vtterance thou hast,
Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends.
We doe debase our selfe (Cousin) doe we not,
To looke so poorely, and to speake so faire?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the Traytor, and so die?
  Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words,
Till time lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords
   Rich. Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine,
That layd the Sentence of dread Banishment
On yond prowd man, should take it off againe
With words of sooth: Oh that I were as great
As is my Griefe, or lesser then my Name,
Or that I could forget what I haue beene,
Or not remember what I must be now:
Swell'st thou prowd heart? Ile giue thee scope to beat,
Since Foes haue scope to beat both thee and me
   Aum. Northumberland comes backe from Bullingbrooke
   Rich. What must the King doe now? must he submit?
The King shall doe it: Must he be depos'd?
The King shall be contented: Must he loose
The Name of King? o' Gods Name let it goe.
Ile giue my Iewels for a sett of Beades,
My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage,
My gay Apparrell, for an Almes-mans Gowne,
My figur'd Goblets, for a Dish of Wood,
My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe,
My Subiects, for a payre of carued Saints,
And my large Kingdome, for a little Graue,
A little little Graue, an obscure Graue.
Or Ile be buryed in the Kings high-way,
Some way of common Trade, where Subiects feet
May howrely trample on their Soueraignes Head:
For on my heart they tread now, whilest I liue;
And buryed once, why not vpon my Head?
Aumerle, thou weep'st (my tender-hearted Cousin)
Wee'le make foule Weather with despised Teares:
Our sighes, and they, shall lodge the Summer Corne,
And make a Dearth in this reuolting Land.
Or shall we play the Wantons with our Woes,
And make some prettie Match, with shedding Teares?
As thus: to drop them still vpon one place,
Till they haue fretted vs a payre of Graues,
Within the Earth: and therein lay'd, there lyes
Two Kinsmen, digg'd their Graues with weeping Eyes?
Would not this ill, doe well? Well, well, I see
I talke but idly, and you mock at mee.
Most mightie Prince, my Lord Northumberland,
What sayes King Bullingbrooke? Will his Maiestie
Giue Richard leaue to liue, till Richard die?
You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke sayes I
   North. My Lord, in the base Court he doth attend
To speake with you, may it please you to come downe
   Rich. Downe, downe I come, like glist'ring Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of vnruly Iades.
In the base Court? base Court, where Kings grow base,
To come at Traytors Calls, and doe them Grace.
In the base Court come down: down Court, down King,
For night-Owls shrike, where mou[n]ting Larks should sing
   Bull. What sayes his Maiestie?
  North. Sorrow, and griefe of heart
Makes him speake fondly, like a frantick man:
Yet he is come
   Bull. Stand all apart,
And shew faire dutie to his Maiestie.
My gracious Lord
   Rich. Faire Cousin,
You debase your Princely Knee,
To make the base Earth prowd with kissing it.
Me rather had, my Heart might feele your Loue,
Then my vnpleas'd Eye see your Courtesie.
Vp Cousin, vp, your Heart is vp, I know,
Thus high at least, although your Knee be low
   Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine
   Rich. Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and
   Bull. So farre be mine, my most redoubted Lord,
As my true seruice shall deserue your loue
   Rich. Well you deseru'd:
They well deserue to haue,
That know the strong'st, and surest way to get.
Vnckle giue me your Hand: nay, drie your Eyes,
Teares shew their Loue, but want their Remedies.
Cousin, I am too young to be your Father,
Though you are old enough to be my Heire.
What you will haue, Ile giue, and willing to,
For doe we must, what force will haue vs doe.
Set on towards London:
Cousin, is it so?
  Bull. Yea, my good Lord
   Rich. Then I must not say, no.
Scena Quarta.
Enter the Queene, and two Ladies
   Qu. What sport shall we deuise here in this Garden,
To driue away the heauie thought of Care?
  La. Madame, wee'le play at Bowles
   Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs,
And that my fortune runnes against the Byas
   La. Madame, wee'le Dance
   Qu. My Legges can keepe no measure in Delight,
When my poore Heart no measure keepes in Griefe.
Therefore no Dancing (Girle) some other sport
   La. Madame, wee'le tell Tales
   Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Griefe?
  La. Of eyther, Madame
   Qu. Of neyther, Girle.
For if of Ioy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of Sorrow:
Or if of Griefe, being altogether had,
It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy:
For what I haue, I need not to repeat;
And what I want, it bootes not to complaine
   La. Madame, Ile sing
   Qu. 'Tis well that thou hast cause:
But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weepe
   La. I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good
   Qu. And I could sing, would weeping doe me good,
And neuer borrow any Teare of thee.
Enter a Gardiner, and two Seruants.
But stay, here comes the Gardiners,
Let's step into the shadow of these Trees.
My wretchednesse, vnto a Rowe of Pinnes,
They'le talke of State: for euery one doth so,
Against a Change; Woe is fore-runne with Woe
   Gard. Goe binde thou vp yond dangling Apricocks,
Which like vnruly Children, make their Syre
Stoupe with oppression of their prodigall weight:
Giue some supportance to the bending twigges.
Goe thou, and like an Executioner
Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprayes,
That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth:
All must be euen, in our Gouernment.
You thus imploy'd, I will goe root away
The noysome Weedes, that without profit sucke
The Soyles fertilitie from wholesome flowers
   Ser. Why should we, in the compasse of a Pale,
Keepe Law and Forme, and due Proportion,
Shewing as in a Modell our firme Estate?
When our Sea-walled Garden, the whole Land,
Is full of Weedes, her fairest Flowers choakt vp,
Her Fruit-trees all vnpruin'd, her Hedges ruin'd,
Her Knots disorder'd, and her wholesome Hearbes
Swarming with Caterpillers
   Gard. Hold thy peace.
He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd Spring,
Hath now himselfe met with the Fall of Leafe.
The Weeds that his broad-spreading Leaues did shelter,
That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him vp,
Are pull'd vp, Root and all, by Bullingbrooke:
I meane, the Earle of Wiltshire, Bushie, Greene
   Ser. What are they dead?
  Gard. They are,
And Bullingbrooke hath seiz'd the wastefull King.
Oh, what pitty is it, that he had not so trim'd
And drest his Land, as we this Garden, at time of yeare,
And wound the Barke, the skin of our Fruit-trees,
Least being ouer-proud with Sap and Blood,
With too much riches it confound it selfe?
Had he done so, to great and growing men,
They might haue liu'd to beare, and he to taste
Their fruites of dutie. Superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughes may liue:
Had he done so, himselfe had borne the Crowne,
Which waste and idle houres, hath quite thrown downe
   Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd?
  Gar. Deprest he is already, and depos'd
'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came last night
To a deere Friend of the Duke of Yorkes,
That tell blacke tydings
   Qu. Oh I am prest to death through want of speaking:
Thou old Adams likenesse, set to dresse this Garden:
How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this vnpleasing newes
What Eue? what Serpent hath suggested thee,
To make a second fall of cursed man?
Why do'st thou say, King Richard is depos'd,
Dar'st thou, thou little better thing then earth,
Diuine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how
Cam'st thou by this ill-tydings? Speake thou wretch
   Gard. Pardon me Madam. Little ioy haue I
To breath these newes; yet what I say, is true;
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold
Of Bullingbrooke, their Fortunes both are weigh'd:
In your Lords Scale, is nothing but himselfe,
And some few Vanities, that make him light:
But in the Ballance of great Bullingbrooke,
Besides himselfe, are all the English Peeres,
And with that oddes he weighes King Richard downe.
Poste you to London, and you'l finde it so,
I speake no more, then euery one doth know
   Qu. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foote,
Doth not thy Embassage belong to me?
And am I last that knowes it? Oh thou think'st
To serue me last, that I may longest keepe
Thy sorrow in my breast. Come Ladies goe,
To meet at London, Londons King in woe.
What was I borne to this: that my sad looke,
Should grace the Triumph of great Bullingbrooke.
Gard'ner, for telling me this newes of woe,
I would the Plants thou graft'st, may neuer grow.
  G. Poore Queen, so that thy State might be no worse,
I would my skill were subiect to thy curse:
Heere did she drop a teare, heere in this place
Ile set a Banke of Rew, sowre Herbe of Grace:
Rue, eu'n for ruth, heere shortly shall be seene,
In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter as to the Parliament, Bullingbrooke, Aumerle,
Northumberland,
Percie, FitzWater, Surrey, Carlile, Abbot of Westminster. Herauld,
Officers, and Bagot.
  Bullingbrooke. Call forth Bagot.
Now Bagot, freely speake thy minde,
What thou do'st know of Noble Glousters death:
Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd
The bloody Office of his Timelesse end
   Bag. Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle
   Bul. Cosin, stand forth, and looke vpon that man
   Bag. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue
Scornes to vnsay, what it hath once deliuer'd.
In that dead time, when Glousters death was plotted,
I heard you say, Is not my arme of length,
That reacheth from the restfull English Court
As farre as Callis, to my Vnkles head.
Amongst much other talke, that very time,
I heard you say, that you had rather refuse
The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes,
Then Bullingbrookes returne to England; adding withall,
How blest this Land would be, in this your Cosins death
   Aum. Princes, and Noble Lords:
What answer shall I make to this base man?
Shall I so much dishonor my faire Starres,
On equall termes to giue him chasticement?
Either I must, or haue mine honor soyl'd
With th' Attaindor of his sland'rous Lippes.
There is my Gage, the manuall Seale of death
That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyest,
And will maintaine what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart blood, though being all too base
To staine the temper of my Knightly sword
   Bul. Bagot forbeare, thou shalt not take it vp
   Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence, that hath mou'd me so
   Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathize:
There is my Gage, Aumerle, in Gage to thine:
By that faire Sunne, that shewes me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say (and vauntingly thou spak'st it)
That thou wer't cause of Noble Glousters death.
If thou deniest it, twenty times thou lyest,
And I will turne thy falshood to thy hart,
Where it was forged with my Rapiers point
   Aum. Thou dar'st not (Coward) liue to see the day
   Fitz. Now by my Soule, I would it were this houre
   Aum. Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this
   Per. Aumerle, thou lye'st: his Honor is as true
In this Appeale, as thou art all vniust:
And that thou art so, there I throw my Gage
To proue it on thee, to th' extreamest point
Of mortall breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st
   Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And neuer brandish more reuengefull Steele,
Ouer the glittering Helmet of my Foe
   Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater:
I do remember well, the very time
Aumerle, and you did talke
   Fitz. My Lord,
'Tis very true: You were in presence then,
And you can witnesse with me, this is true
   Surrey. As false, by heauen,
As Heauen it selfe is true
   Fitz. Surrey, thou Lyest
   Surrey. Dishonourable Boy;
That Lye, shall lie so heauy on my Sword,
That it shall render Vengeance, and Reuenge,
Till thou the Lye-giuer, and that Lye, doe lye
In earth as quiet, as thy Fathers Scull.
In proofe whereof, there is mine Honors pawne,
Engage it to the Triall, if thou dar'st
   Fitzw. How fondly do'st thou spurre a forward Horse?
If I dare eate, or drinke, or breathe, or liue,
I dare meete Surrey in a Wildernesse,
And spit vpon him, whilest I say he Lyes,
And Lyes, and Lyes: there is my Bond of Faith,
To tye thee to my strong Correction.
As I intend to thriue in this new World,
Aumerle is guiltie of my true Appeale.
Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolke say,
That thou Aumerle didst send two of thy men,
To execute the Noble Duke at Callis
   Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a Gage,
That Norfolke lyes: here doe I throw downe this,
If he may be repeal'd, to trie his Honor
   Bull. These differences shall all rest vnder Gage,
Till Norfolke be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be;
And (though mine Enemie) restor'd againe
To all his Lands and Seignories: when hee's return'd,
Against Aumerle we will enforce his Tryall
   Carl. That honorable day shall ne're be seene.
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolke fought
For Iesu Christ, in glorious Christian field
Streaming the Ensigne of the Christian Crosse,
Against black Pagans, Turkes, and Saracens:
And toyl'd with workes of Warre, retyr'd himselfe
To Italy, and there at Venice gaue
His Body to that pleasant Countries Earth,
And his pure Soule vnto his Captaine Christ,
Vnder whose Colours he had fought so long
   Bull. Why Bishop, is Norfolke dead?
  Carl. As sure as I liue, my Lord
   Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soule
To the Bosome of good old Abraham.
Lords Appealants, your differe[n]ces shal all rest vnder gage,
Till we assigne you to your dayes of Tryall.
Enter Yorke.
  Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing Soule
Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter yeelds
To the possession of thy Royall Hand.
Ascend his Throne, descending now from him,
And long liue Henry, of that Name the Fourth
   Bull. In Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall Throne
   Carl. Mary, Heauen forbid.
Worst in this Royall Presence may I speake,
Yet best beseeming me to speake the truth.
Would God, that any in this Noble Presence
Were enough Noble, to be vpright Iudge
Of Noble Richard: then true Noblenesse would
Learne him forbearance from so foule a Wrong.
What Subiect can giue Sentence on his King?
And who sits here, that is not Richards Subiect?
Theeues are not iudg'd, but they are by to heare,
Although apparant guilt be seene in them:
And shall the figure of Gods Maiestie,
His Captaine, Steward, Deputie elect,
Anoynted, Crown'd, planted many yeeres,
Be iudg'd by subiect, and inferior breathe,
And he himselfe not present? Oh, forbid it, God,
That in a Christian Climate, Soules refin'de
Should shew so heynous, black, obscene a deed.
I speake to Subiects, and a Subiect speakes,
Stirr'd vp by Heauen, thus boldly for his King
My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King,
Is a foule Traytor to prowd Herefords King.
And if you Crowne him, let me prophecie,
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future Ages groane for his foule Act.
Peace shall goe sleepe with Turkes and Infidels,
And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Warres
Shall Kinne with Kinne, and Kinde with Kinde confound.
Disorder, Horror, Feare, and Mutinie
Shall here inhabite, and this Land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead mens Sculls.
Oh, if you reare this House, against this House
It will the wofullest Diuision proue,
That euer fell vpon this cursed Earth.
Preuent it, resist it, and let it not be so,
Least Child, Childs Children cry against you, Woe
   North. Well haue you argu'd Sir: and for your paines,
Of Capitall Treason we arrest you here.
My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge,
To keepe him safely, till his day of Tryall.
May it please you, Lords, to grant the Commons Suit?
  Bull. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender: so we shall proceede
Without suspition
   Yorke. I will be his Conduct.
  Bull. Lords, you that here are vnder our Arrest,
Procure your Sureties for your Dayes of Answer:
Little are we beholding to your Loue,
And little look'd for at your helping Hands.
Enter Richard and Yorke.
  Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a King,
Before I haue shooke off the Regall thoughts
Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet haue learn'd
To insinuate, flatter, bowe, and bend my Knee.
Giue Sorrow leaue a while, to tuture me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The fauors of these men: were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry, All hayle to me?
So Iudas did to Christ: but he in twelue,
Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelue thousand, none.
God saue the King: will no man say, Amen?
Am I both Priest, and Clarke? well then, Amen.
God saue the King, although I be not hee:
And yet Amen, if Heauen doe thinke him mee.
To doe what seruice, am I sent for hither?
  Yorke. To doe that office of thine owne good will,
Which tyred Maiestie did make thee offer:
The Resignation of thy State and Crowne
To Henry Bullingbrooke
   Rich. Giue me the Crown. Here Cousin, seize y Crown:
Here Cousin, on this side my Hand, on that side thine.
Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well,
That owes two Buckets, filling one another,
The emptier euer dancing in the ayre,
The other downe, vnseene, and full of Water:
That Bucket downe, and full of Teares am I,
Drinking my Griefes, whil'st you mount vp on high
   Bull. I thought you had been willing to resigne
   Rich. My Crowne I am, but still my Griefes are mine:
You may my Glories and my State depose,
But not my Griefes; still am I King of those
   Bull. Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne
   Rich. Your Cares set vp, do not pluck my Cares downe.
My Care, is losse of Care, by old Care done,
Your Care, is gaine of Care, by new Care wonne:
The Cares I giue, I haue, though giuen away,
They 'tend the Crowne, yet still with me they stay:
  Bull. Are you contented to resigne the Crowne?
  Rich. I, no; no, I: for I must nothing bee:
Therefore no, no, for I resigne to thee.
Now, marke me how I will vndoe my selfe.
I giue this heauie Weight from off my Head,
And this vnwieldie Scepter from my Hand,
The pride of Kingly sway from out my Heart.
With mine owne Teares I wash away my Balme,
With mine owne Hands I giue away my Crowne,
With mine owne Tongue denie my Sacred State,
With mine owne Breath release all dutious Oathes;
All Pompe and Maiestie I doe forsweare:
My Manors, Rents, Reuenues, I forgoe;
My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I denie:
God pardon all Oathes that are broke to mee,
God keepe all Vowes vnbroke are made to thee.
Make me that nothing haue, with nothing grieu'd,
And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all atchieu'd.
Long may'st thou liue in Richards Seat to sit,
And soone lye Richard in an Earthie Pit.
God saue King Henry, vn-King'd Richard sayes,
And send him many yeeres of Sunne-shine dayes.
What more remaines?
  North. No more: but that you reade
These Accusations, and these grieuous Crymes,
Committed by your Person, and your followers,
Against the State, and Profit of this Land:
That by confessing them, the Soules of men
May deeme, that you are worthily depos'd
   Rich. Must I doe so? and must I rauell out
My weau'd-vp follyes? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy Offences were vpon Record,
Would it not shame thee, in so faire a troupe,
To reade a Lecture of them? If thou would'st,
There should'st thou finde one heynous Article,
Contayning the deposing of a King,
And cracking the strong Warrant of an Oath,
Mark'd with a Blot, damn'd in the Booke of Heauen.
Nay, all of you, that stand and looke vpon me,
Whil'st that my wretchednesse doth bait my selfe,
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Shewing an outward pittie: yet you Pilates
Haue here deliuer'd me to my sowre Crosse,
And Water cannot wash away your sinne
   North. My Lord dispatch, reade o're these Articles
   Rich. Mine Eyes are full of Teares, I cannot see:
And yet salt-Water blindes them not so much,
But they can see a sort of Traytors here.
Nay, if I turne mine Eyes vpon my selfe,
I finde my selfe a Traytor with the rest:
For I haue giuen here my Soules consent,
T' vndeck the pompous Body of a King;
Made Glory base; a Soueraigntie, a Slaue;
Prowd Maiestie, a Subiect; State, a Pesant
   North. My Lord
   Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man;
No, nor no mans Lord: I haue no Name, no Title;
No, not that Name was giuen me at the Font,
But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day,
That I haue worne so many Winters out,
And know not now, what Name to call my selfe.
Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow,
Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke,
To melt my selfe away in Water-drops.
Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good,
And if my word be Sterling yet in England,
Let it command a Mirror hither straight,
That it may shew me what a Face I haue,
Since it is Bankrupt of his Maiestie
   Bull. Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse
   North. Read o're this Paper, while y Glasse doth come
   Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell
   Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland
   North. The Commons will not then be satisfy'd
   Rich. They shall be satisfy'd: Ile reade enough,
When I doe see the very Booke indeede,
Where all my sinnes are writ, and that's my selfe.
Enter one with a Glasse.
Giue me that Glasse, and therein will I reade.
No deeper wrinckles yet? hath Sorrow strucke
So many Blowes vpon this Face of mine,
And made no deeper Wounds? Oh flatt'ring Glasse,
Like to my followers in prosperitie,
Thou do'st beguile me. Was this Face, the Face
That euery day, vnder his House-hold Roofe,
Did keepe ten thousand men? Was this the Face,
That like the Sunne, did make beholders winke?
Is this the Face, which fac'd so many follyes,
That was at last out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke?
A brittle Glory shineth in this Face,
As brittle as the Glory, is the Face,
For there it is, crackt in an hundred shiuers.
Marke silent King, the Morall of this sport,
How soone my Sorrow hath destroy'd my Face
   Bull. The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroy'd
The shadow of your Face
   Rich. Say that againe.
The shadow of my Sorrow: ha, let's see,
'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within,
And these externall manner of Laments,
Are meerely shadowes, to the vnseene Griefe,
That swells with silence in the tortur'd Soule.
There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King
For thy great bountie, that not onely giu'st
Me cause to wayle, but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtaine it?
  Bull. Name it, faire Cousin
   Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King:
For when I was a King, my flatterers
Were then but subiects; being now a subiect,
I haue a King here to my flatterer:
Being so great, I haue no neede to begge
   Bull. Yet aske
   Rich. And shall I haue?
  Bull. You shall
   Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe
   Bull. Whither?
  Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights
   Bull. Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower
   Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all,
That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall
   Bull. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set downe
Our Coronation: Lords, prepare your selues.
  Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld
   Carl. The Woes to come, the Children yet vnborne,
Shall feele this day as sharpe to them as Thorne
   Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot
To rid the Realme of this pernicious Blot
   Abbot. Before I freely speake my minde herein,
You shall not onely take the Sacrament,
To bury mine intents, but also to effect
What euer I shall happen to deuise.
I see your Browes are full of Discontent,
Your Heart of Sorrow, and your Eyes of Teares.
Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot
Shall shew vs all a merry day.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Queene, and Ladies.
  Qu. This way the King will come: this is the way
To Iulius Cæsars ill-erected Tower:
To whose flint Bosome, my condemned Lord
Is doom'd a Prisoner, by prowd Bullingbrooke.
Here let vs rest, if this rebellious Earth
Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene.
Enter Richard, and Guard.
But soft, but see, or rather doe not see,
My faire Rose wither: yet looke vp; behold,
That you in pittie may dissolue to dew,
And wash him fresh againe with true-loue Teares.
Ah thou, the Modell where old Troy did stand,
Thou Mappe of Honor, thou King Richards Tombe,
And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inne,
Why should hard-fauor'd Griefe be lodg'd in thee,
When Triumph is become an Ale-house Guest
   Rich. Ioyne not with griefe, faire Woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden: learne good Soule,
To thinke our former State a happie Dreame,
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are,
Shewes vs but this. I am sworne Brother (Sweet)
To grim Necessitie; and hee and I
Will keepe a League till Death. High thee to France,
And Cloyster thee in some Religious House:
Our holy liues must winne a new Worlds Crowne,
Which our prophane houres here haue stricken downe
   Qu. What, is my Richard both in shape and minde
Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke
Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in thy Heart?
The Lyon dying, thrusteth forth his Paw,
And wounds the Earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o're-powr'd: and wilt thou, Pupill-like,
Take thy Correction mildly, kisse the Rodde,
And fawne on Rage with base Humilitie,
Which art a Lyon, and a King of Beasts?
  Rich. A King of Beasts indeed: if aught but Beasts,
I had beene still a happy King of Men.
Good (sometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France:
Thinke I am dead, and that euen here thou tak'st,
As from my Death-bed, my last liuing leaue.
In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire
With good old folkes, and let them tell thee Tales
Of wofull Ages, long agoe betide:
And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their griefe,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their Beds:
For why? the sencelesse Brands will sympathize
The heauie accent of thy mouing Tongue,
And in compassion, weepe the fire out:
And some will mourne in ashes, some coale-black,
For the deposing of a rightfull King.
Enter Northumberland.
  North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd.
You must to Pomfret, not vnto the Tower.
And Madame, there is order ta'ne for you:
With all swift speed, you must away to France
   Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithall
The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne,
The time shall not be many houres of age,
More then it is, ere foule sinne, gathering head,
Shall breake into corruption: thou shalt thinke,
Though he diuide the Realme, and giue thee halfe,
It is too little, helping him to all:
He shall thinke, that thou which know'st the way
To plant vnrightfull Kings, wilt know againe,
Being ne're so little vrg'd another way,
To pluck him headlong from the vsurped Throne.
The Loue of wicked friends conuerts to Feare;
That Feare, to Hate; and Hate turnes one, or both,
To worthie Danger, and deserued Death
   North. My guilt be on my Head, and there an end:
Take leaue, and part, for you must part forthwith
   Rich. Doubly diuorc'd? (bad men) ye violate
A two-fold Marriage; 'twixt my Crowne, and me.
And then betwixt me, and my marryed Wife.
Let me vn-kisse the Oath 'twixt thee, and me;
And yet not so, for with a Kisse 'twas made.
Part vs, Northumberland: I, towards the North,
Where shiuering Cold and Sicknesse pines the Clyme:
My Queene to France: from whence, set forth in pompe,
She came adorned hither like sweet May;
Sent back like Hollowmas, or short'st of day
   Qu. And must we be diuided? must we part?
  Rich. I, hand from hand (my Loue) and heart fro[m] heart
   Qu. Banish vs both, and send the King with me
   North. That were some Loue, but little Pollicy
   Qu. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe
   Rich. So two together weeping, make one Woe.
Weepe thou for me in France; I, for thee heere:
Better farre off, then neere, be ne're the neere.
Goe, count thy Way with Sighes; I, mine with Groanes
   Qu. So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes
   Rich. Twice for one step Ile groane, y Way being short,
And peece the Way out with a heauie heart.
Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be briefe,
Since wedding it, there is such length in Griefe:
One Kisse shall stop our mouthes, and dumbely part;
Thus giue I mine, and thus take I thy heart
   Qu. Giue me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part,
To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart.
So, now I haue mine owne againe, be gone,
That I may striue to kill it with a groane
   Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay:
Once more adieu; the rest, let Sorrow say.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Yorke, and his Duchesse.
  Duch. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you breake the story off,
Of our two Cousins comming into London
   Yorke. Where did I leaue?
  Duch. At that sad stoppe, my Lord,
Where rude mis-gouern'd hands, from Windowes tops,
Threw dust and rubbish on King Richards head
   Yorke. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrooke,
Mounted vpon a hot and fierie Steed,
Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know,
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course:
While all tongues cride, God saue thee Bullingbrooke.
You would haue thought the very windowes spake,
So many greedy lookes of yong and old,
Through Casements darted their desiring eyes
Vpon his visage: and that all the walles,
With painted Imagery had said at once,
Iesu preserue thee, welcom Bullingbrooke.
Whil'st he, from one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds necke,
Bespake them thus: I thanke you Countrimen:
And thus still doing, thus he past along
   Dutch. Alas poore Richard, where rides he the whilst?
  Yorke. As in a Theater, the eyes of men
After a well grac'd Actor leaues the Stage,
Are idlely bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Euen so, or with much more contempt, mens eyes
Did scowle on Richard: no man cride, God saue him:
No ioyfull tongue gaue him his welcome home,
But dust was throwne vpon his Sacred head,
Which with such gentle sorrow he shooke off,
His face still combating with teares and smiles
(The badges of his greefe and patience)
That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce haue melted,
And Barbarisme it selfe haue pittied him.
But heauen hath a hand in these euents,
To whose high will we bound our calme contents.
To Bullingbrooke, are we sworne Subiects now,
Whose State, and Honor, I for aye allow.
Enter Aumerle
   Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle
   Yor. Aumerle that was,
But that is lost, for being Richards Friend.
And Madam, you must call him Rutland now:
I am in Parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealtie to the new-made King
   Dut. Welcome my sonne: who are the Violets now,
That strew the greene lap of the new-come Spring?
  Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not,
God knowes, I had as liefe be none, as one
   Yorke. Well, beare you well in this new-spring of time
Least you be cropt before you come to prime.
What newes from Oxford? Hold those Iusts & Triumphs?
  Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do
   Yorke. You will be there I know
   Aum. If God preuent not, I purpose so
   Yor. What Seale is that that hangs without thy bosom?
Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the Writing
   Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing
   Yorke. No matter then who sees it,
I will be satisfied, let me see the Writing
   Aum. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not haue seene
   Yorke. Which for some reasons sir, I meane to see:
I feare, I feare
   Dut. What should you feare?
'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into
For gay apparrell, against the Triumph
   Yorke. Bound to himselfe? What doth he with a Bond
That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a foole.
Boy, let me see the Writing
   Aum. I do beseech you pardon me, I may not shew it
   Yor. I will be satisfied: let me see it I say.
Treason, foule Treason, Villaine, Traitor, Slaue
   Dut. What's the matter, my Lord?
  Yorke. Hoa, who's within there? Saddle my horse.
Heauen for his mercy: what treachery is heere?
  Dut. Why, what is't my Lord?
  Yorke. Giue me my boots, I say: Saddle my horse:
Now by my Honor, my life, my troth,
I will appeach the Villaine
   Dut. What is the matter?
  Yorke. Peace foolish Woman
   Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne?
  Aum. Good Mother be content, it is no more
Then my poore life must answer
   Dut. Thy life answer?
Enter Seruant with Boots.
  Yor. Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King
   Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boy, y art amaz'd,
Hence Villaine, neuer more come in my sight
   Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say
   Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do?
Wilt thou not hide the Trespasse of thine owne?
Haue we more Sonnes? Or are we like to haue?
Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time?
And wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age,
And rob me of a happy Mothers name?
Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne?
  Yor. Thou fond mad woman:
Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy?
A dozen of them heere haue tane the Sacrament,
And interchangeably set downe their hands
To kill the King at Oxford
   Dut. He shall be none:
Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him?
  Yor. Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my
Son, I would appeach him
   Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done,
Thou wouldest be more pittifull:
But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect
That I haue bene disloyall to thy bed,
And that he is a Bastard, not thy Sonne:
Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde:
He is as like thee, as a man may bee,
Not like to me, nor any of my Kin,
And yet I loue him
   Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman.
  Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse,
Spurre post, and get before him to the King,
And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee,
Ile not be long behind: though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke:
And neuer will I rise vp from the ground,
Till Bullingbrooke haue pardon'd thee: Away be gone.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Bullingbrooke, Percie, and other Lords.
  Bul. Can no man tell of my vnthriftie Sonne?
'Tis full three monthes since I did see him last.
If any plague hang ouer vs, 'tis he,
I would to heauen (my Lords) he might be found:
Enquire at London, 'mongst the Tauernes there:
For there (they say) he dayly doth frequent,
With vnrestrained loose Companions,
Euen such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes,
And rob our Watch, and beate our passengers,
Which he, yong wanton, and effeminate Boy
Takes on the point of Honor, to support
So dissolute a crew
   Per. My Lord, some two dayes since I saw the Prince,
And told him of these Triumphes held at Oxford
   Bul. And what said the Gallant?
  Per. His answer was: he would vnto the Stewes,
And from the common'st creature plucke a Gloue
And weare it as a fauour, and with that
He would vnhorse the lustiest Challenger
   Bul. As dissolute as desp'rate, yet through both,
I see some sparkes of better hope: which elder dayes
May happily bring forth. But who comes heere?
Enter Aumerle.
  Aum. Where is the King?
  Bul. What meanes our Cosin, that hee stares
And lookes so wildely?
  Aum. God saue your Grace. I do beseech your Maiesty
To haue some conference with your Grace alone
   Bul. Withdraw your selues, and leaue vs here alone:
What is the matter with our Cosin now?
  Aum. For euer may my knees grow to the earth,
My tongue cleaue to my roofe within my mouth,
Vnlesse a Pardon, ere I rise, or speake
   Bul. Intended, or committed was this fault?
If on the first, how heynous ere it bee,
To win thy after loue, I pardon thee
   Aum. Then giue me leaue, that I may turne the key,
That no man enter, till my tale be done
   Bul. Haue thy desire.
Yorke within.
  Yor. My Liege beware, looke to thy selfe,
Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there
   Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe
   Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause
   Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King:
Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face?
Open the doore, or I will breake it open.
Enter Yorke.
  Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath,
Tell vs how neere is danger,
That we may arme vs to encounter it
   Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know
The reason that my haste forbids me show
   Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past:
I do repent me, reade not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand
   Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe.
I tore it from the Traitors bosome, King.
Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence;
Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue
A Serpent, that will sting thee to the heart
   Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie,
O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne:
Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine,
From whence this streame, through muddy passages
Hath had his current, and defil'd himselfe.
Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad,
And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse
This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne
   Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd,
And he shall spend mine Honour, with his Shame;
As thriftlesse Sonnes, their scraping Fathers Gold.
Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies,
Or my sham'd life, in his dishonor lies:
Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath,
The Traitor liues, the true man's put to death.
Dutchesse within.
  Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in
   Bul. What shrill-voic'd Suppliant, makes this eager cry?
  Dut. A woman, and thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I.
Speake with me, pitty me, open the dore,
A Begger begs, that neuer begg'd before
   Bul. Our Scene is alter'd from a serious thing,
And now chang'd to the Begger, and the King.
My dangerous Cosin, let your Mother in,
I know she's come, to pray for your foule sin
   Yorke. If thou do pardon, whosoeuer pray,
More sinnes for this forgiuenesse, prosper may.
This fester'd ioynt cut off, the rest rests sound,
This let alone, will all the rest confound.
Enter Dutchesse.
  Dut. O King, beleeue not this hard-hearted man,
Loue, louing not it selfe, none other can
   Yor. Thou franticke woman, what dost y make here,
Shall thy old dugges, once more a Traitor reare?
  Dut. Sweet Yorke be patient, heare me gentle Liege
   Bul. Rise vp good Aunt
   Dut. Not yet, I thee beseech.
For euer will I kneele vpon my knees,
And neuer see day, that the happy sees,
Till thou giue ioy: vntill thou bid me ioy,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing Boy
   Aum. Vnto my mothers prayres, I bend my knee
   Yorke. Against them both, my true ioynts bended be
   Dut. Pleades he in earnest? Looke vpon his Face,
His eyes do drop no teares: his prayres are in iest:
His words come from his mouth, ours from our brest.
He prayes but faintly, and would be denide,
We pray with heart, and soule, and all beside:
His weary ioynts would gladly rise, I know,
Our knees shall kneele, till to the ground they grow:
His prayers are full of false hypocrisie,
Ours of true zeale, and deepe integritie:
Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them haue
That mercy, which true prayers ought to haue
   Bul. Good Aunt stand vp
   Dut. Nay, do not say stand vp.
But Pardon first, and afterwards stand vp.
And if I were thy Nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon should be the first word of thy speach.
I neuer long'd to heare a word till now:
Say Pardon (King,) let pitty teach thee how.
The word is short: but not so short as sweet,
No word like Pardon, for Kings mouth's so meet
   Yorke. Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy
   Dut. Dost thou teach pardon, Pardon to destroy?
Ah my sowre husband, my hard-hearted Lord,
That set's the word it selfe, against the word.
Speake Pardon, as 'tis currant in our Land,
The chopping French we do not vnderstand.
Thine eye begins to speake, set thy tongue there,
Or in thy pitteous heart, plant thou thine eare,
That hearing how our plaints and prayres do pearce,
Pitty may moue thee, Pardon to rehearse
   Bul. Good Aunt, stand vp
   Dut. I do not sue to stand,
Pardon is all the suite I haue in hand
   Bul. I pardon him, as heauen shall pardon mee
   Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee?
Yet am I sicke for feare: Speake it againe,
Twice saying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine,
But makes one pardon strong
   Bul. I pardon him with all my hart
   Dut. A God on earth thou art
   Bul. But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot,
With all the rest of that consorted crew,
Destruction straight shall dogge them at the heeles:
Good Vnckle helpe to order seuerall powres
To Oxford, or where ere these Traitors are:
They shall not liue within this world I sweare,
But I will haue them, if I once know where.
Vnckle farewell, and Cosin adieu:
Your mother well hath praid, and proue you true
   Dut. Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new.
Enter Exton and Seruants.
  Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee
Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare:
Was it not so?
  Ser. Those were his very words.
Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice,
And vrg'd it twice together, did he not?
  Ser. He did.
And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me,
As who should say, I would thou wer't the man
That would diuorce this terror from my heart,
Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe;
I am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe.
Scaena Quarta.
Enter Richard.
  Rich. I haue bin studying, how to compare
This Prison where I liue, vnto the World:
And for because the world is populous,
And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe,
I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out.
My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule,
My Soule, the Father: and these two beget
A generation of still breeding Thoughts;
And these same Thoughts, people this Little World
In humors, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt
With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe
Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again,
It is as hard to come, as for a Camell
To thred the posterne of a Needles eye.
Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot
Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes
May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles:
And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride.
Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues,
That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues,
Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars,
Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame
That many haue, and others must sit there;
And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease,
Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe
Of such as haue before indur'd the like.
Thus play I in one Prison, many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I King;
Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar,
And so I am. Then crushing penurie,
Perswades me, I was better when a King:
Then am I king'd againe: and by and by,
Thinke that I am vn-king'd by Bullingbrooke,
And straight am nothing. But what ere I am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
With being nothing. Musicke do I heare?
Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is,
When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept?
So is it in the Musicke of mens liues:
And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare,
To heare time broke in a disorder'd string:
But for the Concord of my State and Time,
Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke.
I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me:
For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke;
My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre,
Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch,
Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares.
Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is,
Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart,
Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones,
Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time
Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy,
While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th' Clocke.
This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more,
For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits,
In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad:
Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me;
For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard,
Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world.
Enter Groome.
  Groo. Haile Royall Prince
   Rich. Thankes Noble Peere,
The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere.
What art thou? And how com'st thou hither?
Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge
That brings me food, to make misfortune liue?
  Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King)
When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke,
With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue
To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face.
O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld
In London streets, that Coronation day,
When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary,
That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid,
That horse, that I so carefully haue drest
   Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend,
How went he vnder him?
  Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground
   Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe;
That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand.
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe
(Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke
Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe?
Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee,
Since thou created to be aw'd by man
Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse,
And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse,
Spur-gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke.
Enter Keeper with a Dish.
  Keep. Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay
   Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away
   Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall
  Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too?
  Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo
   Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton,
Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary
   Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee;
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it
   Keep. Helpe, helpe, helpe.
Enter Exton and Seruants.
  Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt?
Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument,
Go thou and fill another roome in hell.
Exton strikes him downe.
That hand shall burne in neuer-quenching fire,
That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand,
Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land.
Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high,
Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye
   Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood,
Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good.
For now the diuell, that told me I did well,
Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell.
This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare,
Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere.
Scoena Quinta.
Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords &
  Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare,
Is that the Rebels haue consum'd with fire
Our Towne of Cicester in Gloucestershire,
But whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not.
Enter Northumberland.
Welcome my Lord: What is the newes?
  Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse:
The next newes is, I haue to London sent
The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:
The manner of their taking may appeare
At large discoursed in this paper heere
   Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines,
And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines.
Enter Fitzwaters.
  Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London,
The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely,
Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors,
That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow
   Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot,
Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Percy and Carlile.
  Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
With clog of Conscience, and sowre Melancholly,
Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue:
But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide
Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride
   Bul. Carlile, this is your doome:
Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome
More then thou hast, and with it ioy thy life:
So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from strife:
For though mine enemy, thou hast euer beene,
High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene.
Enter Exton with a Coffin.
  Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present
Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies
Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought
   Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought
A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand,
Vpon my head, and all this famous Land.
From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed
   Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede,
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour.
With Caine go wander through the shade of night,
And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light.
Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe,
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow.
Come mourne with me, for that I do lament,
And put on sullen Blacke incontinent:
Ile make a voyage to the Holy-land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.
March sadly after, grace my mourning heere,
In weeping after this vntimely Beere.
FINIS. The life and death of King Richard the Second.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of
Romeo and Juliet
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie
of Romeo and Juliet.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the
  Sampson. Gregory: A my word wee'l not carry coales
   Greg. No, for then we should be Colliars
   Samp. I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw
   Greg. I, While you liue, draw your necke out
   Samp. I strike quickly, being mou'd
   Greg. But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike
   Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague, moues me
   Greg. To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand:
Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away
   Samp. A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand.
I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of Mountagues
   Greg. That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the weakest
goes to the wall
   Samp. True, and therefore women being the weaker
Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Mountagues men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to
   Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs their men
   Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when
I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the
Maids, and cut off their heads
   Greg. The heads of the Maids?
  Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads,
Take it in what sence thou wilt
   Greg. They must take it sence, that feele it
   Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand:
And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh
   Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou
had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of
the House of the Mountagues.
Enter two other Seruingmen.
  Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee
  Gre. How? Turne thy backe, and run
   Sam. Feare me not
   Gre. No marry: I feare thee
   Sam. Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin
   Gr. I wil frown as I passe by, & let the[m] take it as they list
  Sam. Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them,
which is a disgrace to them, if they beare it
   Abra. Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir?
  Samp. I do bite my Thumbe, sir
   Abra. Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir?
  Sam. Is the Law of our side, if I say I?
   Sam. No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but
I bite my Thumbe sir
   Greg. Do you quarrell sir?
  Abra. Quarrell sir? no sir
   Sam. If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man as you
  Abra. No better?
  Samp. Well sir.
Enter Benuolio.
  Gr. Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen
   Samp. Yes, better
   Abra. You Lye
   Samp. Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy
washing blow.
  Ben. Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not
what you do.
Enter Tibalt.
  Tyb. What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse
Hindes? Turne thee Benuolio, looke vpon thy death
   Ben. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me
   Tyb. What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word
As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee:
Haue at thee Coward.
Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.
  Offi. Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down
Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues.
Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife.
  Cap. What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho
   Wife. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword?
  Cap. My Sword I say: Old Mountague is come,
And flourishes his Blade in spight of me.
Enter old Mountague, & his wife.
  Moun. Thou villaine Capulet. Hold me not, let me go
  2.Wife. Thou shalt not stir a foote to seeke a Foe.
Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine.
  Prince. Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace,
Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele,
Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage,
With purple Fountaines issuing from your Veines:
On paine of Torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground,
And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince.
Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word,
By thee old Capulet and Mountague,
Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient Citizens
Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments,
To wield old Partizans, in hands as old,
Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate,
If euer you disturbe our streets againe,
Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time all the rest depart away:
You Capulet shall goe along with me,
And Mountague come you this afternoone,
To know our Fathers pleasure in this case:
To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place:
Once more on paine of death, all men depart.
  Moun. Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach?
Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began:
  Ben. Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie,
And yours close fighting ere I did approach,
I drew to part them, in the instant came
The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares,
He swong about his head, and cut the windes,
Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne.
While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the Prince came, who parted either part
   Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day?
Right glad am I, he was not at this fray
   Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the East,
A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad,
Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour,
That West-ward rooteth from this City side:
So earely walking did I see your Sonne:
Towards him I made, but he was ware of me,
And stole into the couert of the wood,
I measuring his affections by my owne,
Which then most sought, wher most might not be found:
Being one too many by my weary selfe,
Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his
And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me
   Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene,
With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw,
Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes,
But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne,
Should in the farthest East begin to draw
The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed,
Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne,
And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe,
Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out,
And makes himselfe an artificiall night:
Blacke and portendous must this humour proue,
Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue
   Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?
  Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him
   Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?
  Moun. Both by my selfe and many other Friends,
But he his owne affections counseller,
Is to himselfe (I will not say how true)
But to himselfe so secret and so close,
So farre from sounding and discouery,
As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,
Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre,
Or dedicate his beauty to the same.
Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow,
We would as willingly giue cure, as know.
Enter Romeo.
  Ben. See where he comes, so please you step aside,
Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide
   Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away.
  Ben. Good morrow Cousin
   Rom. Is the day so young?
  Ben. But new strooke nine
   Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long:
Was that my Father that went hence so fast?
  Ben. It was: what sadnes lengthens Romeo's houres?
  Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short
  Ben. In loue
   Romeo. Out
   Ben. Of loue
   Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue
   Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe
   Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still,
Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his will:
Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere?
Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all:
Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue:
Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate,
O any thing, of nothing first created:
O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity,
Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes,
Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health,
Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is:
This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this.
Doest thou not laugh?
  Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe
   Rom. Good heart, at what?
  Ben. At thy good hearts oppression
   Rom. Why such is loues transgression.
Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast
With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne,
Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne.
Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes,
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes,
Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares,
What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet:
Farewell my Coze
   Ben. Soft I will goe along.
And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong
   Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here,
This is not Romeo, hee's some other where
   Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue?
  Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee?
  Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who
   Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will:
A word ill vrg'd to one that is so ill:
In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman
   Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd
   Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue
  Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit
   Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit
With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit:
And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd:
From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd.
Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes,
Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes.
Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold:
O she is rich in beautie, onely poore,
That when she dies, with beautie dies her store
   Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast?
  Rom. She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast?
For beauty steru'd with her seuerity,
Cuts beauty off from all posteritie.
She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire,
To merit blisse by making me dispaire:
She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow
Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now
   Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her
   Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke
   Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes,
Examine other beauties,
  Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more,
These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes,
Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire:
He that is strooken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost:
Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire,
What doth her beauty serue but as a note,
Where I may read who past that passing faire.
Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget,
  Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.
  Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke,
For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace
   Par. Of Honourable reckoning are you both,
And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long:
But now my Lord, what say you to my sute?
  Capu. But saying ore what I haue said before,
My Child is yet a stranger in the world,
Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares,
Let two more Summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride
   Pari. Younger then she, are happy mothers made
   Capu. And too soone mar'd are those so early made:
Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,
Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth:
But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent, is but a part,
And shee agree, within her scope of choise,
Lyes my consent, and faire according voice:
This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast,
Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest,
Such as I loue, and you among the store,
One more, most welcome makes my number more:
At my poore house, looke to behold this night,
Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light,
Such comfort as do lusty young men feele,
When well apparrel'd Aprill on the heele
Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight
Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house: heare all, all see:
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one,
May stand in number, though in reckning none.
Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about,
Through faire Verona, find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay.
  Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Heere it
is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his
Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his
Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to
find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find
what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to
the learned) in good time.
Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.
  Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning,
One paine is lesned by anothers anguish:
Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning:
One desparate greefe, cures with anothers languish:
Take thou some new infection to the eye,
And the rank poyson of the old wil die
   Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that
   Ben. For what I pray thee?
  Rom. For your broken shin
   Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad?
  Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is:
Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode,
Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow,
  Ser. Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read?
  Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie
   Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke:
But I pray can you read any thing you see?
  Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language
   Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry
   Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.
He reades the Letter.
Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Anselme
and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio,
Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and
his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daughters:
my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his
Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena.
A faire assembly, whither should they come?
   Rom. Whither? to supper?
  Ser. To our house
   Rom. Whose house?
  Ser. My Maisters
   Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before
   Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is
the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of
Mountagues I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest
  Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets
Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou so loues:
With all the admired Beauties of Verona,
Go thither and with vnattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow
   Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye
Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire:
And these who often drown'd could neuer die,
Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers.
One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun
Nere saw her match, since first the world begun
   Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by,
Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye:
But in that Christall scales, let there be waid,
Your Ladies loue against some other Maid
That I will show you, shining at this Feast,
And she shew scant shell, well, that now shewes best
   Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne,
But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne.
Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.
  Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me
   Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old
I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid,
Where's this Girle? what Iuliet?
Enter Iuliet
   Iuliet. How now, who calls?
  Nur. Your Mother
   Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will?
  Wife. This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we
must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue remembred
me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest
my daughter's of a prety age
   Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre
   Wife. Shee's not fourteene
   Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth,
And yet to my teene be it spoken,
I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene.
How long is it now to Lammas tide?
  Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes
   Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come
Lammas Eue at night shall she be fourteene. Susan & she,
God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well Susan
is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lamas
Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie,
I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now
eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it,
of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then
laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder
the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at
Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it
did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge,
and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out
with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no
neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is
a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th'
roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen
the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband
God be with his soule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the
Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou
wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou
not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte
crying, & said I: to see now how a Iest shall come about.
I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should
forget it: wilt thou not Iule quoth he? and pretty foole it
stinted, and said I
   Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace
   Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to
thinke it should leaue crying, & say I: and yet I warrant
it had vpon it brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels
stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth
my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward
when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It
stinted: and said I
   Iule. And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I
   Nur. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace
thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst, and I might
liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish
   Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame
I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet,
How stands your disposition to be Married?
  Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of
   Nur. An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would
say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat
   Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you
Heere in Verona, Ladies of esteeme,
Are made already Mothers. By my count
I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares
That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe:
The valiant Paris seekes you for his loue
   Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all
the world. Why hee's a man of waxe
   Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower
   Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower
   Old La. What say you, can you loue the Gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our Feast,
Read ore the volume of young Paris face,
And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen:
Examine euery seuerall liniament,
And see how one another lends content:
And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies,
Find written in the Margent of his eyes.
This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer,
To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer.
The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride
For faire without, the faire within to hide:
That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie,
That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie:
So shall you share all that he doth possesse,
By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse
   Nurse. No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men
   Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue?
  Iuli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue.
But no more deepe will I endart mine eye,
Then your consent giues strength to make flye.
Enter a Seruing man.
  Ser. Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you
cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery,
and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I
beseech you follow straight.
  Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie staies
   Nurse. Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers,
Torch-bearers.
  Rom. What shall this spech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without Apologie?
  Ben. The date is out of such prolixitie,
Weele haue no Cupid, hood winkt with a skarfe,
Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath,
Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper.
But let them measure vs by what they will,
Weele measure them with a Measure, and be gone
   Rom. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling.
Being but heauy I will beare the light
   Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance
   Rom. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes
With nimble soles, I haue a soale of Lead
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue
   Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings,
And soare with them aboue a common bound
   Rom. I am too sore enpearced with his shaft,
To soare with his light feathers, and to bound:
I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe,
Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke
   Hora. And to sinke in it should you burthen loue,
Too great oppression for a tender thing
   Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne
   Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue,
Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe,
Giue me a Case to put my visage in,
A Visor for a Visor, what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities:
Here are the Beetle-browes shall blush for me
   Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in,
But euery man betake him to his legs
   Rom. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart
Tickle the sencelesse rushes with their heeles:
For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsier Phrase,
Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on,
The game was nere so faire, and I am done
   Mer. Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word,
If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire.
Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein thou stickest
Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho
   Rom. Nay that's not so
   Mer. I meane sir I delay,
We wast our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day;
Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement sits
Fiue times in that, ere once in our fiue wits
   Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske,
But 'tis no wit to go
   Mer. Why may one aske?
  Rom. I dreampt a dreame to night
   Mer. And so did I
   Rom. Well what was yours?
  Mer. That dreamers often lye
   Ro. In bed a sleepe while they do dreame things true
   Mer. O then I see Queene Mab hath beene with you:
She is the Fairies Midwife, & she comes in shape no bigger
then Agat-stone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman,
drawne with a teeme of little Atomies, ouer mens noses as
they lie asleepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spinners
legs: the Couer of the wings of Grashoppers, her
Traces of the smallest Spiders web, her coullers of the
Moonshines watry Beames, her Whip of Crickets bone,
the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated
Gnat, not halfe so bigge as a round little Worme, prickt
from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an emptie
Haselnut, made by the Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time
out a mind, the Faries Coach-makers: & in this state she
gallops night by night, through Louers braines: and then
they dreame of Loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame on
Cursies strait: ore Lawyers fingers, who strait dreampt on
Fees, ore Ladies lips, who strait on kisses dreame, which
oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their
breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime she gallops
ore a Courtiers nose, & then dreames he of smelling
out a sute: & somtime comes she with Tith pigs tale, tickling
a Parsons nose as a lies asleepe, then he dreames of
another Benefice. Sometime she driueth ore a Souldiers
necke, & then dreames he of cutting Forraine throats, of
Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades: Of Healths fiue
Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which
he startes and wakes; and being thus frighted, sweares a
prayer or two & sleepes againe: this is that very Mab that
plats the manes of Horses in the night: & bakes the Elklocks
in foule sluttish haires, which once vntangled, much
misfortune bodes,
This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learnes them first to beare,
Making them women of good carriage:
   Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace,
Thou talk'st of nothing
   Mer. True, I talke of dreames:
Which are the children of an idle braine,
Begot of nothing, but vaine phantasie,
Which is as thin of substance as the ayre,
And more inconstant then the wind, who wooes
Euen now the frozen bosome of the North:
And being anger'd, puffes away from thence,
Turning his side to the dew dropping South
   Ben. This wind you talke of blowes vs from our selues,
Supper is done, and we shall come too late
   Rom. I feare too early, for my mind misgiues,
Some consequence yet hanging in the starres,
Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date
With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme
Of a despised life clos'd in my brest:
By some vile forfeit of vntimely death.
But he that hath the stirrage of my course,
Direct my sute: on lustie Gentlemen
   Ben. Strike Drum.
They march about the Stage, and Seruingmen come forth with
their napkins.
Enter Seruant.
  Ser. Where's Potpan, that he helpes not to take away?
He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher?
  1. When good manners, shall lie in one or two mens
hands, and they vnwasht too, 'tis a foule thing
   Ser. Away with the Ioynstooles, remoue the Courtcubbord,
looke to the Plate: good thou, saue mee a piece
of Marchpane, and as thou louest me, let the Porter let in
Susan Grindstone, and Nell, Anthonie and Potpan
   2. I Boy readie
   Ser. You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & sought
for, in the great Chamber
   1. We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes,
Be brisk awhile, and the longer liuer take all.
Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.
  1. Capu. Welcome Gentlemen,
Ladies that haue their toes
Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you:
Ah my Mistresses, which of you all
Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty,
She Ile sweare hath Cornes: am I come neare ye now?
Welcome Gentlemen, I haue seene the day
That I haue worne a Visor, and could tell
A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare:
Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone,
You are welcome Gentlemen, come Musitians play:
Musicke plaies: and they dance.
A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles,
More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp:
And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too hot.
Ah sirrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well:
Nay sit, nay sit, good Cozin Capulet,
For you and I are past our dauncing daies:
How long 'ist now since last your selfe and I
Were in a Maske?
  2. Capu. Berlady thirty yeares
   1. Capu. What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much,
'Tis since the Nuptiall of Lucentio,
Come Pentycost as quickely as it will,
Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt
   2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder sir:
His Sonne is thirty
   3. Cap. Will you tell me that?
His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe
   Rom. What Ladie is that which doth inrich the hand
Of yonder Knight?
  Ser. I know not sir
   Rom. O she doth teach the Torches to burne bright:
It seemes she hangs vpon the cheeke of night,
As a rich Iewel in an aethiops eare:
Beauty too rich for vse, for earth too deare:
So shewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes,
As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes;
The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand,
And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart loue till now, forsweare it sight,
For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night
   Tib. This by his voice, should be a Mountague.
Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slaue
Come hither couer'd with an antique face,
To fleere and scorne at our Solemnitie?
Now by the stocke and Honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin
   Cap. Why how now kinsman,
Wherefore storme you so?
  Tib. Vncle this is a Mountague, our foe:
A Villaine that is hither come in spight,
To scorne at our Solemnitie this night
   Cap. Young Romeo is it?
  Tib. 'Tis he, that Villaine Romeo
   Cap. Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone,
A beares him like a portly Gentleman:
And to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth:
I would not for the wealth of all the towne,
Here in my house do him disparagement:
Therfore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will, the which if thou respect,
Shew a faire presence, and put off these frownes,
An ill beseeming semblance for a Feast
  Tib. It fits when such a Villaine is a guest,
Ile not endure him
   Cap. He shall be endur'd.
What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too,
Am I the Maister here or you? go too,
Youle not endure him, God shall mend my soule,
Youle make a Mutinie among the Guests:
You will set cocke a hoope, youle be the man
   Tib. Why Vncle, 'tis a shame
   Cap. Go too, go too,
You are a sawcy Boy, 'ist so indeed?
This tricke may chance to scath you, I know what,
You must contrary me, marry 'tis time.
Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, goe,
Be quiet, or more light, more light for shame,
Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts
   Tib. Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting:
I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall
Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall.
  Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand,
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,
My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand,
To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kisse
   Iul. Good Pilgrime,
You do wrong your hand too much.
Which mannerly deuotion shewes in this,
For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch,
And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kisse
   Rom. Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?
  Iul. I Pilgrim, lips that they must vse in prayer
   Rom. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do,
They pray (grant thou) least faith turne to dispaire
   Iul. Saints do not moue,
Though grant for prayers sake
   Rom. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take:
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd
   Iul. Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke
   Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespasse sweetly vrg'd:
Giue me my sin againe
   Iul. You kisse by'th' booke
   Nur. Madam your Mother craues a word with you
   Rom. What is her Mother?
  Nurs. Marrie Batcheler,
Her Mother is the Lady of the house,
And a good Lady, and a wise, and Vertuous,
I Nur'st her Daughter that you talkt withall:
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her,
Shall haue the chincks
   Rom. Is she a Capulet?
O deare account! My life is my foes debt
   Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best
   Rom. I so I feare, the more is my vnrest
   Cap. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone,
We haue a trifling foolish Banquet towards:
Is it e'ne so? why then I thanke you all.
I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night:
More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed.
Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late,
Ile to my rest
   Iuli. Come hither Nurse,
What is yond Gentleman:
  Nur. The Sonne and Heire of old Tyberio
   Iuli. What's he that now is going out of doore?
  Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petruchio
   Iul. What's he that follows here that would not dance?
  Nur. I know not
   Iul. Go aske his name: if he be married,
My graue is like to be my wedded bed
   Nur. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,
The onely Sonne of your great Enemie
   Iul. My onely Loue sprung from my onely hate,
Too early seene, vnknowne, and knowne too late,
Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me,
That I must loue a loathed Enemie
   Nur. What's this? whats this?
  Iul. A rime, I learne euen now
Of one I dan'st withall.
One cals within, Iuliet.
  Nur. Anon, anon:
Come let's away, the strangers all are gone.
  Chorus. Now old desire doth in his death bed lie,
And yong affection gapes to be his Heire,
That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would die,
With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire.
Now Romeo is beloued, and Loues againe,
A like bewitched by the charme of lookes:
But to his foe suppos'd he must complaine,
And she steale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes:
Being held a foe, he may not haue accesse
To breath such vowes as Louers vse to sweare,
And she as much in Loue, her meanes much lesse,
To meete her new Beloued any where:
But passion lends them Power, time, meanes to meete,
Temp'ring extremities with extreame sweete.
Enter Romeo alone.
  Rom. Can I goe forward when my heart is here?
Turne backe dull earth, and find thy Center out.
Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.
  Ben. Romeo, my Cozen Romeo, Romeo
   Merc. He is wise,
And on my life hath stolne him home to bed
   Ben. He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall.
Call good Mercutio:
Nay, Ile coniure too
   Mer. Romeo, Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer,
Appeare thou in the likenesse of a sigh,
Speake but one time, and I am satisfied:
Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day,
Speake to my goship Venus one faire word,
One Nickname for her purblind Sonne and her,
Young Abraham Cupid he that shot so true,
When King Cophetua lou'd the begger Maid,
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not,
The Ape is dead, I must coniure him,
I coniure thee by Rosalines bright eyes,
By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip,
By her Fine foote, Straight leg, and Quiuering thigh,
And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie,
That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs
   Ben. And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him
   Mer. This cannot anger him, t'would anger him
To raise a spirit in his Mistresse circle,
Of some strange nature, letting it stand
Till she had laid it, and coniured it downe,
That were some spight.
My inuocation is faire and honest, & in his Mistris name,
I coniure onely but to raise vp him
   Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees
To be consorted with the Humerous night:
Blind is his Loue, and best befits the darke
   Mer. If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke,
Now will he sit vnder a Medler tree,
And wish his Mistresse were that kind of Fruite,
As Maides cal Medlers when they laugh alone,
O Romeo that she were, O that she were
An open, or thou a Poprin Peare,
Romeo goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed,
This Field-bed is to cold for me to sleepe,
Come shall we go?
  Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vaine to seeke him here
That meanes not to be found.
  Rom. He ieasts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound,
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Iuliet is the Sunne,
Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone,
Who is already sicke and pale with griefe,
That thou her Maid art far more faire then she:
Be not her Maid since she is enuious,
Her Vestal liuery is but sicke and greene,
And none but fooles do weare it, cast it off:
It is my Lady, O it is my Loue, O that she knew she were,
She speakes, yet she sayes nothing, what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answere it:
I am too bold 'tis not to me she speakes:
Two of the fairest starres in all the Heauen,
Hauing some businesse do entreat her eyes,
To twinckle in their Spheres till they returne.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head,
The brightnesse of her cheeke would shame those starres,
As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen,
Would through the ayrie Region streame so bright,
That Birds would sing, and thinke it were not night:
See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand.
O that I were a Gloue vpon that hand,
That I might touch that cheeke
   Iul. Ay me
   Rom. She speakes.
Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thou art
As glorious to this night being ore my head,
As is a winged messenger of heauen
Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes
Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazie puffing Cloudes,
And sailes vpon the bosome of the ayre
   Iul. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Denie thy Father and refuse thy name:
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne to my Loue,
And Ile no longer be a Capulet
   Rom. Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this?
  Iu. 'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy:
Thou art thy selfe, though not a Mountague,
What's Mountague? it is nor hand nor foote,
Nor arme, nor face, O be some other name
Belonging to a man.
What? in a names that which we call a Rose,
By any other word would smell as sweete,
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cal'd,
Retaine that deare perfection which he owes,
Without that title Romeo, doffe thy name,
And for thy name which is no part of thee,
Take all my selfe
   Rom. I take thee at thy word:
Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd,
Hence foorth I neuer will be Romeo
   Iuli. What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night
So stumblest on my counsell?
  Rom. By a name,
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe,
Because it is an Enemy to thee,
Had I it written, I would teare the word
   Iuli. My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words
Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the sound.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
  Rom. Neither faire Maid, if either thee dislike
   Iul. How cam'st thou hither.
Tell me, and wherefore?
The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here,
  Rom. With Loues light wings
Did I ore-perch these Walls,
For stony limits cannot hold Loue out,
And what Loue can do, that dares Loue attempt:
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me
   Iul. If they do see thee, they will murther thee
   Rom. Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye,
Then twenty of their Swords, looke thou but sweete,
And I am proofe against their enmity
   Iul. I would not for the world they saw thee here
   Rom. I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes
And but thou loue me, let them finde me here,
My life were better ended by their hate,
Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue
   Iul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place?
  Rom. By Loue that first did prompt me to enquire,
He lent me counsell, and I lent him eyes,
I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far
As that vast-shore-washet with the farthest Sea,
I should aduenture for such Marchandise
   Iul. Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face,
Else would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeke,
For that which thou hast heard me speake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie
What I haue spoke, but farewell Complement,
Doest thou Loue? I know thou wilt say I,
And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st,
Thou maiest proue false: at Louers periuries
They say Ioue laught, oh gentle Romeo,
If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne,
Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world.
In truth faire Mountague I am too fond:
And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light,
But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true,
Then those that haue coying to be strange,
I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse,
But that thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware
My true Loues passion, therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yeelding to light Loue,
Which the darke night hath so discouered
   Rom. Lady, by yonder Moone I vow,
That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops
   Iul. O sweare not by the Moone, th' inconstant Moone,
That monethly changes in her circled Orbe,
Least that thy Loue proue likewise variable
   Rom. What shall I sweare by?
  Iul. Do not sweare at all:
Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe,
Which is the God of my Idolatry,
And Ile beleeue thee
   Rom. If my hearts deare loue
   Iuli. Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee:
I haue no ioy of this contract to night,
It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden,
Too like the lightning which doth cease to be
Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night:
This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath,
May proue a beautious Flower when next we meete:
Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest,
Come to thy heart, as that within my brest
   Rom. O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied?
  Iuli. What satisfaction can'st thou haue to night?
  Ro. Th' exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine
   Iul. I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it:
And yet I would it were to giue againe
   Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it,
For what purpose Loue?
  Iul. But to be franke and giue it thee againe,
And yet I wish but for the thing I haue,
My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea,
My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee
The more I haue, for both are Infinite:
I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue:
Cals within.
Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true:
Stay but a little, I will come againe
   Rom. O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd
Being in night, all this is but a dreame,
Too flattering sweet to be substantiall
   Iul. Three words deare Romeo,
And goodnight indeed,
If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow,
By one that Ile procure to come to thee,
Where and what time thou wilt performe the right,
And all my Fortunes at thy foote Ile lay,
And follow thee my Lord throughout the world
   Within: Madam.
I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well,
I do beseech thee
  Within: Madam.
(By and by I come)
To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe,
To morrow will I send
   Rom. So thriue my soule
   Iu. A thousand times goodnight.
  Rome. A thousand times the worse to want thy light,
Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes fro[m] their books
But Loue fro[m] Loue, towards schoole with heauie lookes.
Enter Iuliet againe.
  Iul. Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falkners voice,
To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe,
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud,
Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies,
And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then
With repetition of my Romeo
   Rom. It is my soule that calls vpon my name.
How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night,
Like softest Musicke to attending eares
   Iul. Romeo
   Rom. My Neece
   Iul. What a clock to morrow
Shall I send to thee?
  Rom. By the houre of nine
   Iul. I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then,
I haue forgot why I did call thee backe
   Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it
   Iul. I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there,
Remembring how I Loue thy company
   Rom. And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this
   Iul. 'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone,
And yet no further then a wantons Bird,
That let's it hop a little from his hand,
Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues,
And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe,
So louing Iealous of his liberty
   Rom. I would I were thy Bird
   Iul. Sweet so would I,
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing:
Good night, good night
   Rom. Parting is such sweete sorrow,
That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow
   Iul. Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest
   Rom. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest,
The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night,
Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light,
And darkenesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles,
From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles.
Hence will I to my ghostly Friers close Cell,
His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell.
Enter Frier alone with a basket.
  Fri. The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night,
Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light:
And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles,
From forth daies path, and Titans burning wheeles:
Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye,
The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry,
I must vpfill this Osier Cage of ours,
With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers,
The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe,
What is her burying graue that is her wombe:
And from her wombe children of diuers kind
We sucking on her naturall bosome find:
Many for many vertues excellent:
None but for some, and yet all different.
O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies
In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile, that on earth doth liue,
But to the earth some speciall good doth giue.
Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse,
Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.
Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied,
And vice sometime by action dignified.
Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rind of this weake flower,
Poyson hath residence, and medicine power:
For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part,
Being tasted stayes all sences with the heart.
Two such opposed Kings encampe them still,
In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will:
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant
   Rom. Good morrow Father
   Fri. Benedecite.
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head,
So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed;
Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye,
And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye:
But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine
Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne;
Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure,
Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right.
Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night
   Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine
   Fri. God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline?
  Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No,
I haue forgot that name, and that names woe
   Fri. That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then?
  Rom. Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen:
I haue beene feasting with mine enemie,
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded: both our remedies
Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies:
I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe
My intercession likewise steads my foe
   Fri. Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift,
Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift
   Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set,
On the faire daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine
By holy marriage: when and where, and how,
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow:
Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray,
That thou consent to marrie vs to day
   Fri. Holy S[aint]. Francis, what a change is heere?
Is Rosaline that thou didst Loue so deare
So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies
Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Iesu Maria, what a deale of brine
Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for Rosaline?
How much salt water throwne away in wast,
To season Loue that of it doth not tast.
The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares,
Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares:
Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit,
Of an old teare that is not washt off yet.
If ere thou wast thy selfe, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes, were all for Rosaline.
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men
   Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for louing Rosaline
   Fri. For doting, not for louing pupill mine
   Rom. And bad'st me bury Loue
   Fri. Not in a graue,
To lay one in, another out to haue
   Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now
Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow:
The other did not so
   Fri. O she knew well,
Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell:
But come young wauerer, come goe with me,
In one respect, Ile thy assistant be:
For this alliance may so happy proue,
To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue
   Rom. O let vs hence, I stand on sudden hast
   Fri. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.
Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.
  Mer. Where the deule should this Romeo be? came he
not home to night?
  Ben. Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man
   Mer. Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that Rosaline
torments him so, that he will sure run mad
   Ben. Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a Letter
to his Fathers house
   Mer. A challenge on my life
   Ben. Romeo will answere it
   Mer. Any man that can write, may answere a Letter
   Ben. Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he
dares, being dared
   Mer. Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead stab'd with
a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with
a Loue song, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the
blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is he a man to encounter
  Ben. Why what is Tibalt?
  Mer. More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragious
Captaine of Complements: he fights as you sing
pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion, he rests
his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very
butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman
of the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the
immortall Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay
   Ben. The what?
  Mer. The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phantacies,
these new tuners of accent: Iesu a very good blade,
a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a lamentable
thing Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted
with these strange flies: these fashion Mongers, these
pardon-mee's,
who stand so much on the new form, that they
cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their
Enter Romeo.
  Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo
   Mer. Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh,
flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers
that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen
wench, marrie she had a better Loue to berime her: Dido
a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Hellen and Hero, hildings
and Harlots: Thisbie a gray eie or so, but not to the purpose.
Signior Romeo, Bon iour, there's a French salutation to your
French slop: you gaue vs the counterfait fairely last
   Romeo. Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit
did I giue you?
  Mer. The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceiue?
  Rom. Pardon Mercutio, my businesse was great, and in
such a case as mine, a man may straine curtesie
   Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains
a man to bow in the hams
   Rom. Meaning to cursie
   Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it
   Rom. A most curteous exposition
   Mer. Nay, I am the very pinck of curtesie
   Rom. Pinke for flower
   Mer. Right
   Rom. Why then is my Pump well flowr'd
   Mer. Sure wit, follow me this ieast, now till thou hast
worne out thy Pump, that when the single sole of it is
worne, the ieast may remaine after the wearing, sole-singular
   Rom. O single sol'd ieast,
Soly singular for the singlenesse
   Mer. Come betweene vs good Benuolio, my wits faints
   Rom. Swits and spurs,
Swits and spurs, or Ile crie a match
   Mer. Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I am
done: For thou hast more of the Wild-Goose in one of
thy wits, then I am sure I haue in my whole fiue. Was I
with you there for the Goose?
  Rom. Thou wast neuer with mee for any thing, when
thou wast not there for the Goose
   Mer. I will bite thee by the eare for that iest
   Rom. Nay, good Goose bite not
   Mer. Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting,
It is a most sharpe sawce
   Rom. And is it not well seru'd into a Sweet-Goose?
  Mer. Oh here's a wit of Cheuerell, that stretches from
an ynch narrow, to an ell broad
   Rom. I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added
to the Goose, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goose
   Mer. Why is not this better now, then groning for
Loue, now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo: now art
thou what thou art, by Art as well as by Nature, for this
driueling Loue is like a great Naturall, that runs lolling
vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole
   Ben. Stop there, stop there
   Mer. Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the haire
   Ben. Thou would'st else haue made thy tale large
   Mer. O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it short,
or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant
indeed to occupie the argument no longer.
Enter Nurse and her man.
  Rom. Here's a goodly geare.
A sayle, a sayle
   Mer. Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke
   Nur. Peter?
  Peter. Anon
   Nur. My Fan Peter?
  Mer. Good Peter to hide her face?
For her Fans the fairer face?
  Nur. God ye good morrow Gentlemen
   Mer. God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman
   Nur. Is it gooden?
  Mer. 'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the
Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone
   Nur. Out vpon you: what a man are you?
  Rom. One Gentlewoman,
That God hath made, himselfe to mar
   Nur. By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar quatha:
Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find
the young Romeo?
  Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older
when you haue found him, then he was when you sought
him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse
   Nur. You say well
   Mer. Yea is the worst well,
Very well tooke: Ifaith, wisely, wisely
   Nur. If you be he sir,
I desire some confidence with you?
  Ben. She will endite him to some Supper
   Mer. A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho
   Rom. What hast thou found?
  Mer. No Hare sir, vnlesse a Hare sir in a Lenten pie,
that is something stale and hoare ere it be spent.
An old Hare hoare, and an old Hare hoare is very good
meat in Lent.
But a Hare that is hoare is too much for a score, when it
hoares ere it be spent,
Romeo will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner
   Rom. I will follow you
   Mer. Farewell auncient Lady:
Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.
Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio.
  Nur. I pray you sir, what sawcie Merchant was this
that was so full of his roperie?
  Rom. A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe
talke, and will speake more in a minute, then he will stand
to in a Moneth
   Nur. And a speake any thing against me, Ile take him
downe, z a were lustier then he is, and twentie such Iacks:
and if I cannot, Ile finde those that shall: scuruie knaue, I
am none of his flurt-gils, I am none of his skaines mates,
and thou must stand by too and suffer euery knaue to vse
me at his pleasure
   Pet. I saw no man vse you at his pleasure: if I had, my
weapon should quickly haue beene out, I warrant you, I
dare draw assoone as another man, if I see occasion in a
good quarrell, and the law on my side
   Nur. Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about
me quiuers, skuruy knaue: pray you sir a word: and as I
told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out, what
she bid me say, I will keepe to my selfe: but first let me
tell ye, if ye should leade her in a fooles paradise, as they
say, it were a very grosse kind of behauiour, as they say:
for the Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore, if you should
deale double with her, truely it were an ill thing to be offered
to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dealing
   Nur. Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistresse, I
protest vnto thee
   Nur. Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much:
Lord, Lord she will be a ioyfull woman
   Rom. What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou doest not
  Nur. I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I
take it, is a Gentleman-like offer
   Rom. Bid her deuise some meanes to come to shrift this
And there she shall at Frier Lawrence Cell
Be shriu'd and married: here is for thy paines
   Nur. No truly sir not a penny
   Rom. Go too, I say you shall
   Nur. This afternoone sir? well she shall be there
   Ro. And stay thou good Nurse behind the Abbey wall,
Within this houre my man shall be with thee,
And bring thee Cords made like a tackled staire,
Which to the high top gallant of my ioy,
Must be my conuoy in the secret night.
Farewell, be trustie and Ile quite thy paines:
Farewell, commend me to thy Mistresse
   Nur. Now God in heauen blesse thee: harke you sir,
  Rom. What saist thou my deare Nurse?
  Nurse. Is your man secret, did you nere heare say two
may keepe counsell putting one away
   Ro. Warrant thee my man is true as steele
   Nur. Well sir, my Mistresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord,
Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a Noble
man in Towne one Paris, that would faine lay knife aboard:
but she good soule had as leeue see a Toade, a very
Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and tell her that
Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I say
so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world.
Doth not Rosemarie and Romeo begin both with a letter?
  Rom. I Nurse, what of that? Both with an R
  Nur. A mocker that's the dogs name. R. is for the no,
I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath the
prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that it
would do you good to heare it
   Rom. Commend me to thy Lady
   Nur. I a thousand times. Peter?
   Nur. Before and apace.
Exit Nurse and Peter.
Enter Iuliet.
  Iul. The clocke strook nine, when I did send the Nurse,
In halfe an houre she promised to returne,
Perchance she cannot meete him: that's not so:
Oh she is lame, Loues Herauld should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glides then the Sunnes beames,
Driuing backe shadowes ouer lowring hils.
Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doues draw Loue,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings:
Now is the Sun vpon the highmost hill
Of this daies iourney, and from nine till twelue,
Is three long houres, yet she is not come.
Had she affections and warme youthfull blood,
She would be as swift in motion as a ball,
My words would bandy her to my sweete Loue,
And his to me, but old folkes,
Many faine as they were dead,
Vnwieldie, slow, heauy, and pale as lead.
Enter Nurse.
O God she comes, O hony Nurse what newes?
Hast thou met with him? send thy man away
   Nur. Peter stay at the gate
   Iul. Now good sweet Nurse:
O Lord, why lookest thou sad?
Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily.
If good thou sham'st the musicke of sweet newes,
By playing it to me, with so sower a face
   Nur. I am a weary, giue me leaue awhile,
Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunt haue I had?
  Iul. I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy newes:
Nay come I pray thee speake, good good Nurse speake
   Nur. Iesu what hast? can you not stay a while?
Do you not see that I am out of breath?
  Iul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth
To say to me, that thou art out of breath?
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay,
Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy newes good or bad? answere to that,
Say either, and Ile stay the circumstance:
Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad?
  Nur. Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know
not how to chuse a man: Romeo, no not he though his face
be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all mens, and
for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though they be not to
be talkt on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower
of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe: go thy
waies wench, serue God. What haue you din'd at home?
  Iul. No no: but all this did I know before
What saies he of our marriage? what of that?
  Nur. Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I?
It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces.
My backe a tother side: o my backe, my backe:
Beshrew your heart for sending me about
To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe
   Iul. Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well.
Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue?
  Nur. Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And I warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother?
  Iul. Where is my Mother?
Why she is within, where should she be?
How odly thou repli'st:
Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman:
Where is your Mother?
  Nur. O Gods Lady deare,
Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow,
Is this the Poultis for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your messages your selfe
   Iul. Heere's such a coile, come what saies Romeo?
  Nur. Haue you got leaue to go to shift to day?
  Iul. I haue
   Nur. Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cell,
There staies a Husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes,
Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes:
Hie you to Church, I must an other way,
To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue
Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke:
I am the drudge, and toile in your delight:
But you shall beare the burthen soone at night.
Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell
   Iul. Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.
Enter Frier and Romeo.
  Fri. So smile the heauens vpon this holy act,
That after houres, with sorrow chide vs not
   Rom. Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can,
It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy
That one short minute giues me in her sight:
Do thou but close our hands with holy words.
Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dare,
It is inough. I may call her mine
   Fri. These violent delights haue violent endes,
And in their triumph: die like fire and powder;
Which as they kisse consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse,
And in the taste confoundes the appetite.
Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth so,
Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow.
Enter Iuliet.
Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot
Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint,
A Louer may bestride the Gossamours,
That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre,
And yet not fall, so light is vanitie
   Iul. Good euen to my ghostly Confessor
   Fri. Romeo shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both
   Iul. As much to him, else in his thanks too much
   Fri. Ah Iuliet, if the measure of thy ioy
Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue,
Vnfold the imagin'd happinesse that both
Receiue in either, by this deere encounter
   Iul. Conceit more rich in matter then in words,
Brags of his substance, not of Ornament:
They are but beggers that can count their worth,
But my true Loue is growne to such excesse,
I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth
   Fri. Come, come with me, & we will make short worke,
For by your leaues, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy Church incorporate two in one.
Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.
  Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire,
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad:
And if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle, for now these
hot dayes, is the mad blood stirring
   Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he
enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon
the Table, and sayes, God send me no need of thee: and by
the operation of the second cup, drawes him on the Drawer,
when indeed there is no need
   Ben. Am I like such a Fellow?
  Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy mood,
as any in Italie: and assoone moued to be moodie, and assoone
moodie to be mou'd
   Ben. And what too?
  Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should haue
none shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou
wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire
lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarrell with a
man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but because
thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye,
would spie out such a quarrell? thy head is full of quarrels,
as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath bin
beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou hast quarrel'd
with a man for coffing in the street, because he hath
wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in the Sun. Did'st
thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doublet
before Easter? with another, for tying his new shooes
with old Riband, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quarrelling?
  Ben. And I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any man
should buy the Fee-simple of my life, for an houre and a
   Mer. The Fee-simple? O simple.
Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.
  Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets
   Mer. By my heele I care not
   Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speake to them.
Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you
   Mer. And but one word with one of vs? couple it with
something, make it a word and a blow
   Tib. You shall find me apt inough to that sir, and you
will giue me occasion
   Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without
  Tib. Mercutio thou consort'st with Romeo
   Mer. Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels? &
thou make Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but discords:
heere's my fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you
daunce. Come consort
   Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men,
Either withdraw vnto some priuate place,
Or reason coldly of your greeuances:
Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs
   Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze.
I will not budge for no mans pleasure I.
Enter Romeo.
  Tib. Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man
   Mer. But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery.
Marry go before to field, heele be your follower,
Your worship in that sense, may call him man
   Tib. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord
No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine
   Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee,
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting: Villaine am I none;
Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not
   Tib. Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries
That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw
   Rom. I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee,
But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise:
Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue,
And so good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearely as my owne, be satisfied
   Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission:
Alla stucatho carries it away.
Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke?
  Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me?
  Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine
liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall
vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you
pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares? Make
hast, least mine be about your eares ere it be out
   Tib. I am for you
   Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp
   Mer. Come sir, your Passado
   Rom. Draw Benuolio, beat downe their weapons:
Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes.
Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.
Exit Tybalt.
  Mer. I am hurt.
A plague a both the Houses, I am sped:
Is he gone and hath nothing?
  Ben. What art thou hurt?
  Mer. I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough,
Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon
   Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much
   Mer. No: 'tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a
Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to
morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd
I warrant, for this world: a plague a both your houses.
What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man to
death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the
booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you betweene
vs? I was hurt vnder your arme
   Rom. I thought all for the best
   Mer. Helpe me into some house Benuolio,
Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houses.
They haue made wormesmeat of me,
I haue it, and soundly to your Houses.
  Rom. This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie,
My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt
In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd
With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre
Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet Iuliet,
Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate,
And in my temper softned Valours steele.
Enter Benuolio.
  Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio's is dead,
That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes,
Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth
   Rom. This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend,
This but begins, the wo others must end.
Enter Tybalt.
  Ben. Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe
   Rom. He gon in triumph, and Mercutio slaine?
Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie,
And fire and Fury, be my conduct now.
Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe
That late thou gau'st me, for Mercutios soule
Is but a little way aboue our heads,
Staying for thine to keepe him companie:
Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him
   Tib. Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence
   Rom. This shall determine that.
They fight. Tybalt falles.
  Ben. Romeo, away be gone:
The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine,
Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death
If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away
   Rom. O! I am Fortunes foole
   Ben. Why dost thou stay?
Enter Citizens.
  Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio?
  Tibalt that Murtherer, which way ran he?
  Ben. There lies that Tybalt
   Citi. Vp sir go with me:
I charge thee in the Princes names obey.
Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.
  Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray?
  Ben. O Noble Prince, I can discouer all
The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall:
There lies the man slaine by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman braue Mercutio
   Cap. Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin? O my Brothers Child,
O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild
Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true,
For bloud of ours, shed bloud of Mountague.
O Cozin, Cozin
   Prin. Benuolio, who began this Fray?
  Ben. Tybalt here slaine, whom Romeo's hand did slay,
Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke
How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall
Your high displeasure: all this vttered,
With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd
Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene
Of Tybalts deafe to peace, but that he Tilts
With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio's breast,
Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point,
And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue,
His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points,
And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme,
An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled.
But by and by comes backe to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained Reuenge,
And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine:
And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie:
This is the truth, or let Benuolio die
   Cap. Wi. He is a kinsman to the Mountague,
Affection makes him false, he speakes not true:
Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue:
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not liue
   Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio,
Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe
   Cap. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend,
His fault concludes, but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt
   Prin. And for that offence,
Immediately we doe exile him hence:
I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding:
My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.
But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the losse of mine.
It will be deafe to pleading and excuses,
Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses.
Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast,
Else when he is found, that houre is his last.
Beare hence his body, and attend our will:
Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.
Enter Iuliet alone.
  Iul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes,
Towards Phoebus lodging, such a Wagoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in Cloudie night immediately.
Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night,
That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene,
Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights,
And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind,
It best agrees with night: come ciuill night,
Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke,
And learne me how to loose a winning match,
Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods,
Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes,
With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold,
Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie:
Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night,
For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night
Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe:
Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night.
Giue me my Romeo, and when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little starres,
And he will make the Face of heauen so fine,
That all the world will be in Loue with night,
And pay no worship to the Garish Sun.
O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue,
But not possest it, and though I am sold,
Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day,
As is the night before some Festiuall,
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurse:
Enter Nurse with cords.
And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks
But Romeos name, speakes heauenly eloquence:
Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there?
The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?
  Nur. I, I, the Cords
   Iuli. Ay me, what newes?
Why dost thou wring thy hands
   Nur. A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead,
We are vndone Lady, we are vndone.
Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead
   Iul. Can heauen be so enuious?
  Nur. Romeo can,
Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo.
Who euer would haue thought it Romeo
   Iuli. What diuell art thou,
That dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roar'd in dismall hell,
Hath Romeo slaine himselfe? say thou but I,
And that bare vowell I shall poyson more
Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice,
I am not I, if there be such an I.
Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere I:
If he be slaine say I, or if not, no.
Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo
   Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God saue the marke, here on his manly brest,
A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse:
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood,
All in gore blood I sounded at the sight
   Iul. O breake my heart,
Poore Banckrout breake at once,
To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie.
Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here,
And thou and Romeo presse on heauie beere
   Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best Friend I had:
O curteous Tybalt honest Gentleman,
That euer I should liue to see thee dead
   Iul. What storme is this that blowes so contrarie?
Is Romeo slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead?
My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord:
Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome,
For who is liuing, if those two are gone?
  Nur. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished,
Romeo that kil'd him, he is banished
   Iul. O God!
Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalts blood
It did, it did, alas the day, it did
   Nur. O Serpent heart hid with a flowring face
   Iul. Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue?
Beautifull Tyrant, fiend Angelicall:
Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen,
Woluish-rauening Lambe,
Dispised substance of Diuinest show:
Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st,
A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine:
O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in hell,
When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh?
Was euer booke containing such vile matter
So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous Pallace
   Nur. There's no trust, no faith, no honestie in men,
All periur'd, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers,
Ah where's my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae?
These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old:
Shame come to Romeo
   Iul. Blister'd be thy tongue
For such a wish, he was not borne to shame:
Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit;
For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd
Sole Monarch of the vniuersall earth:
O what a beast was I to chide him?
  Nur. Will you speake well of him,
That kil'd your Cozen?
  Iul. Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband?
Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it.
But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin?
That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband:
Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring,
Your tributarie drops belong to woe,
Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy:
My husband liues that Tibalt would haue slaine,
And Tibalt dead that would haue slaine my husband:
All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then?
Some words there was worser then Tybalts death
That murdered me, I would forget it feine,
But oh, it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds,
Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished:
That banished, that one word banished,
Hath slaine ten thousand Tibalts: Tibalts death
Was woe inough if it had ended there:
Or if sower woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rankt with other griefes,
Why followed not when she said Tibalts dead,
Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both,
Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd.
But which a rere-ward following Tybalts death
Romeo is banished to speake that word,
Is Father, Mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet,
All slaine, all dead: Romeo is banished,
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that words death, no words can that woe sound.
Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse?
  Nur. Weeping and wailing ouer Tybalts Coarse,
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither
   Iu. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent
When theirs are drie for Romeo's banishment.
Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd,
Both you and I for Romeo is exild:
He made you for a high-way to my bed,
But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed.
Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed,
And death not Romeo, take my Maiden head
   Nur. Hie to your Chamber, Ile find Romeo
To comfort you, I wot well where he is:
Harke ye your Romeo will be heere at night,
Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell
   Iul. O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight,
And bid him come, to take his last farewell.
Enter Frier and Romeo.
  Fri. Romeo come forth,
Come forth thou fearfull man,
Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts
And thou art wedded to calamitie,
  Rom. Father what newes?
What is the Princes Doome?
What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?
  Fri. Too familiar
Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company
I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome
   Rom. What lesse then Doomesday,
Is the Princes Doome?
  Fri. A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips,
Not bodies death, but bodies banishment
   Rom. Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death:
For exile hath more terror in his looke,
Much more then death: do not say banishment
   Fri. Here from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide
   Rom. There is no world without Verona walles,
But Purgatorie, Torture, hell it selfe:
Hence banished, is banisht from the world,
And worlds exile is death. Then banished,
Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe,
And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me
   Fri. O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse!
Thy falt our Law calles death, but the kind Prince
Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law,
And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment.
This is deare mercy, and thou seest it not
   Rom. 'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here
Where Iuliet liues, and euery Cat and Dog,
And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing
Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her,
But Romeo may not. More Validitie,
More Honourable state, more Courtship liues
In carrion Flies, then Romeo: they may seaze
On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand,
And steale immortall blessing from her lips,
Who euen in pure and vestall modestie
Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin.
This may Flies doe, when I from this must flie,
And saist thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not, hee is banished.
Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife,
No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane,
But banished to kill me? Banished?
O Frier, the damned vse that word in hell:
Howlings attends it, how hast then the hart
Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor,
A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest:
To mangle me with that word, banished?
  Fri. Then fond Mad man, heare me speake
   Rom. O thou wilt speake againe of banishment
   Fri. Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word,
Aduersities sweete milke, Philosophie,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished
   Rom. Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie:
Vnlesse Philosophie can make a Iuliet,
Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome,
It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more
   Fri. O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares
   Rom. How should they,
When wisemen haue no eyes?
  Fri. Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate,
  Rom. Thou can'st not speake of that y dost not feele,
Wert thou as young as Iuliet my Loue:
An houre but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then mightest thou speake,
Then mightest thou teare thy hayre,
And fall vpon the ground as I doe now,
Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.
Enter Nurse, and knockes.
  Frier. Arise one knockes,
Good Romeo hide thy selfe
   Rom. Not I,
Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes
Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.
  Fri. Harke how they knocke:
(Who's there) Romeo arise,
Thou wilt be taken, stay a while, stand vp:
Run to my study: by and by, Gods will
What simplenesse is this: I come, I come.
Who knocks so hard?
Whence come you? what's your will?
Enter Nurse.
  Nur. Let me come in,
And you shall know my errand:
I come from Lady Iuliet
   Fri. Welcome then
   Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier,
Where's my Ladies Lord? where's Romeo?
  Fri. There on the ground,
With his owne teares made drunke
   Nur. O he is euen in my Mistresse case,
Iust in her case. O wofull simpathy:
Pittious predicament, euen so lies she,
Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring,
Stand vp, stand vp, stand and you be a man,
For Iuliets sake, for her sake rise and stand:
Why should you fall into so deepe an O
   Rom. Nurse
   Nur. Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all
   Rom. Speak'st thou of Iuliet? how is it with her?
Doth not she thinke me an old Murtherer,
Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy,
With blood remoued, but little from her owne?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes
My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue?
  Nur. Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps,
And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp,
And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries,
And then downe falls againe
   Ro. As if that name shot from the dead leuell of a Gun,
Did murder her, as that names cursed hand
Murdred her kinsman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me,
In what vile part of this Anatomie
Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sacke
The hatefull Mansion
   Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art:
Thy teares are womanish, thy wild acts denote
The vnreasonable Furie of a beast.
Vnseemely woman, in a seeming man,
And ill beseeming beast in seeming both,
Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slaine Tybalt? wilt thou slay thy selfe?
And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies,
By doing damned hate vpon thy selfe?
Why rayl'st thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth?
Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete
In thee at once, which thou at once would'st loose.
Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy loue, thy wit,
Which like a Vsurer abound'st in all:
And vsest none in that true vse indeed,
Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit:
Thy Noble shape, is but a forme of waxe,
Digressing from the Valour of a man,
Thy deare Loue sworne but hollow periurie,
Killing that Loue which thou hast vow'd to cherish.
Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue,
Mishapen in the conduct of them both:
Like powder in a skillesse Souldiers flaske,
Is set a fire by thine owne ignorance,
And thou dismembred with thine owne defence.
What, rowse thee man, thy Iuliet is aliue,
For whose deare sake thou wast but lately dead.
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt, there art thou happie.
The law that threatned death became thy Friend.
And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy.
A packe or blessing light vpon thy backe,
Happinesse Courts thee in her best array,
But like a mishaped and sullen wench,
Thou puttest vp thy Fortune and thy Loue:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed,
Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her:
But looke thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not passe to Mantua,
Where thou shalt liue till we can finde a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends,
Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe,
With twenty hundred thousand times more ioy
Then thou went'st forth in lamentation.
Goe before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heauy sorrow makes them apt vnto.
Romeo is comming
   Nur. O Lord, I could haue staid here all night,
To heare good counsell: oh what learning is!
My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come
   Rom. Do so, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide
   Nur. Heere sir, a Ring she bid me giue you sir:
Hie you, make hast, for it growes very late
   Rom. How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this
   Fri. Go hence,
Goodnight, and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the breake of day disguis'd from hence,
Soiourne in Mantua, Ile find out your man,
And he shall signifie from time to time,
Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere:
Giue me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, goodnight
   Rom. But that a ioy past ioy, calls out on me,
It were a griefe, so briefe to part with thee:
Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris.
  Cap. Things haue falne out sir so vnluckily,
That we haue had no time to moue our Daughter:
Looke you, she Lou'd her kinsman Tybalt dearely,
And so did I. Well, we were borne to die.
'Tis very late, she'l not come downe to night:
I promise you, but for your company,
I would haue bin a bed an houre ago
   Par. These times of wo, affoord no times to wooe:
Madam goodnight, commend me to your Daughter
   Lady. I will, and know her mind early to morrow,
To night, she is mewed vp to her heauinesse
   Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my Childes loue: I thinke she will be rul'd
In all respects by me: nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed,
Acquaint her here, of my Sonne Paris Loue,
And bid her, marke you me, on Wendsday next,
But soft, what day is this?
  Par. Monday my Lord
   Cap. Monday, ha ha: well Wendsday is too soone,
A Thursday let it be: a Thursday tell her,
She shall be married to this Noble Earle:
Will you be ready? do you like this hast?
Weele keepe no great adoe, a Friend or two,
For harke you, Tybalt being slaine so late,
It may be thought we held him carelesly,
Being our kinsman, if we reuell much:
Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen Friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
  Paris. My Lord,
I would that Thursday were to morrow
   Cap. Well, get you gone, a Thursday, be it then:
Go you to Iuliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her wife, against this wedding day.
Farewell my Lord, light to my Chamber hoa,
Afore me, it is so late, that we may call it early by and by,
Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.
  Iul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day:
It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke,
That pier'st the fearefull hollow of thine eare,
Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree,
Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale
   Rom. It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne:
No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes
Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder East:
Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day
Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops,
I must be gone and liue, or stay and die
   Iul. Yond light is not daylight, I know it I:
It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not be gone,
  Rom. Let me be tane, let me be put to death,
I am content, so thou wilt haue it so.
Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye,
'Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthias brow.
Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate
The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads,
I haue more care to stay, then will to go:
Come death and welcome, Iuliet wills it so.
How ist my soule, lets talke, it is not day
   Iuli. It is, it is, hie hence be gone away:
It is the Larke that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes.
Some say the Larke makes sweete Diuision;
This doth not so: for she diuideth vs.
Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,
O now I would they had chang'd voyces too:
Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day,
O now be gone, more light and it light growes
   Rom. More light & light, more darke & darke our woes.
Enter Madam and Nurse.
  Nur. Madam
   Iul. Nurse
   Nur. Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber,
The day is broke, be wary, looke about
   Iul. Then window let day in, and let life out
   Rom. Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend
   Iul. Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend,
I must heare from thee euery day in the houre,
For in a minute there are many dayes,
O by this count I shall be much in yeares,
Ere I againe behold my Romeo
   Rom. Farewell:
I will omit no oportunitie,
That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee
   Iul. O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe?
  Rom. I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serue
For sweet discourses in our time to come
   Iuliet. O God! I haue an ill Diuining soule,
Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe,
As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe,
Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale
   Rom. And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you:
Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue.
  Iul. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune:
For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long,
But send him backe.
Enter Mother.
  Lad. Ho Daughter, are you vp?
  Iul. Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother.
Is she not downe so late, or vp so early?
What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
  Lad. Why how now Iuliet?
  Iul. Madam I am not well
   Lad. Euermore weeping for your Cozins death?
What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
And if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him liue:
Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue,
But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit
   Iul. Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse
   Lad. So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend
Which you weepe for
   Iul. Feeling so the losse,
I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend
   La. Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him
   Iul. What Villaine, Madam?
  Lad. That same Villaine Romeo
   Iul. Villaine and he, be many miles assunder:
God pardon, I doe with all my heart:
And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart
   Lad. That is because the Traitor liues
   Iul. I Madam from the reach of these my hands:
Would none but I might venge my Cozins death
   Lad. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not.
Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banisht Run-agate doth liue,
Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram,
That he shall soone keepe Tybalt company:
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied
   Iul. Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead
Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext:
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To beare a poyson, I would temper it;
That Romeo should vpon receit thereof,
Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors
To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him,
To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin,
Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him
   Mo. Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man.
But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle
   Iul. And ioy comes well, in such a needy time,
What are they, beseech your Ladyship?
  Mo. Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child?
One who to put thee from thy heauinesse,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy,
That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for
   Iul. Madam in happy time, what day is this?
  Mo. Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne,
The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman,
The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,
Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride
   Iul. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride.
I wonder at this hast, that I must wed
Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe:
I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam,
I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate
Rather then Paris. These are newes indeed
   Mo. Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter Capulet and Nurse.
  Cap. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle deaw
But for the Sunset of my Brothers Sonne,
It raines downright.
How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares?
Euermore showring in one little body?
Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea,
Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is
Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes,
Who raging with the teares and they with them,
Without a sudden calme will ouer set
Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife?
Haue you deliuered to her our decree?
  Lady. I sir;
But she will none, she giues you thankes,
I would the foole were married to her graue
   Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife,
How, will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks?
Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought
So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome
  Iul. Not proud you haue,
But thankfull that you haue:
Proud can I neuer be of what I haue,
But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue
   Cap. How now?
How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this?
Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not.
Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither.
Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage,
You tallow face
   Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad?
  Iul. Good Father, I beseech you on my knees
Heare me with patience, but to speake a word
   Fa. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch,
I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday,
Or neuer after looke me in the face.
Speake not, reply not, do not answere me.
My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest,
That God had lent vs but this onely Child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we haue a curse in hauing her:
Out on her Hilding
   Nur. God in heauen blesse her,
You are too blame my Lord to rate her so
   Fa. And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue,
Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go
   Nur. I speak no treason,
Father, O Godigoden,
May not one speake?
  Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,
Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles
For here we need it not
   La. You are too hot
   Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad:
Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play,
Alone in companie, still my care hath bin
To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
A Gentleman of Noble Parentage,
Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied,
Stuft as they say with Honourable parts,
Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man,
And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender,
To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue:
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you.
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me:
Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest.
Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise,
And you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend:
And you be not, hang, beg, starue, die in the streets,
For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good:
Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne
  Iuli. Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes,
That sees into the bottome of my griefe?
O sweet my Mother cast me not away,
Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke,
Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed
In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies
   Mo. Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word,
Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee.
  Iul. O God!
O Nurse, how shall this be preuented?
My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen,
How shall that faith returne againe to earth,
Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen,
By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me:
Alacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems
Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe.
What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy?
Some comfort Nurse
   Nur. Faith here it is,
Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing,
That he dares nere come backe to challenge you:
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then since the case so stands as now it doth,
I thinke it best you married with the Countie,
O hee's a Louely Gentleman:
Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam
Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye
As Paris hath, beshrow my very heart,
I thinke you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were,
As liuing here and you no vse of him
   Iul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
  Nur. And from my soule too,
Or else beshrew them both
   Iul. Amen
   Nur. What?
  Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much,
Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell,
To make confession, and to be absolu'd
   Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done
   Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend!
It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne,
Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare,
So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twaine:
Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.
Enter Frier and Countie Paris.
  Fri. On Thursday sir? the time is very short
   Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his hast
   Fri. You say you do not know the Ladies mind?
Vneuen is the course, I like it not
   Pa. Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death,
And therfore haue I little talke of Loue,
For Venus smiles not in a house of teares.
Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous
That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway:
And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her teares,
Which too much minded by her selfe alone,
May be put from her by societie.
Now doe you know the reason of this hast?
  Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.
Enter Iuliet.
  Par. Happily met, my Lady and my wife
   Iul. That may be sir, when I may be a wife
   Par. That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next
   Iul. What must be shall be
   Fri. That's a certaine text
   Par. Come you to make confession to this Father?
  Iul. To answere that, I should confesse to you
   Par. Do not denie to him, that you Loue me
   Iul. I will confesse to you that I Loue him
   Par. So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me
   Iul. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your backe, then to your face
   Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares
   Iul. The teares haue got small victorie by that:
For it was bad inough before their spight
   Pa. Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report
   Iul. That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth,
And what I spake, I spake it to thy face
   Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it
   Iul. It may be so, for it is not mine owne.
Are you at leisure, Holy Father now,
Or shall I come to you at euening Masse?
  Fri. My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now.
My Lord you must intreat the time alone
   Par. Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion,
Iuliet, on Thursday early will I rowse yee,
Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.
  Iul. O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so,
Come weepe with me, past hope, past care, past helpe
   Fri. O Iuliet, I alreadie know thy griefe,
It streames me past the compasse of my wits:
I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Countie
   Iul. Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this,
Vnlesse thou tell me how I may preuent it:
If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife, Ile helpe it presently.
God ioyn'd my heart, and Romeos, thou our hands,
And ere this hand by thee to Romeo seal'd:
Shall be the Labell to another Deede,
Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt,
Turne to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore out of thy long experien'st time,
Giue me some present counsell, or behold
Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife
Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that,
Which the commission of thy yeares and art,
Could to no issue of true honour bring:
Be not so long to speak, I long to die,
If what thou speak'st, speake not of remedy
   Fri. Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope,
Which craues as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate which we would preuent.
If rather then to marrie Countie Paris
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thy selfe,
Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That coap'st with death himselfe, to scape fro it:
And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie
   Iul. Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris,
From of the Battlements of any Tower,
Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke
Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares
Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house,
Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones,
With reckie shankes and yellow chappels sculls:
Or bid me go into a new made graue,
And hide me with a dead man in his graue,
Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble,
And I will doe it without feare or doubt,
To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue
   Fri. Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent,
To marrie Paris: wensday is to morrow,
To morrow night looke that thou lie alone,
Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber:
Take thou this Violl being then in bed,
And this distilling liquor drinke thou off,
When presently through all thy veines shall run,
A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse
Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease:
No warmth, no breath shall testifie thou liuest,
The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade
To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall
Like death when he shut vp the day of life:
Each part depriu'd of supple gouernment,
Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death,
And in this borrowed likenesse of shrunke death
Thou shalt continue two and forty houres,
And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe.
Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes,
To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then as the manner of our country is,
In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere,
Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue:
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie,
In the meane time against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come, and that very night
Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare,
Abate thy valour in the acting it
   Iul. Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of care
   Fri. Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous:
In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed
To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord
   Iu. Loue giue me strength,
And the strength shall helpe afford:
Farewell deare father.
Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Seruing men, two or
  Cap. So many guests inuite as here are writ,
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes
   Ser. You shall haue none ill sir, for Ile trie if they can
licke their fingers
   Cap. How canst thou trie them so?
  Ser. Marrie sir, 'tis an ill Cooke that cannot licke his
owne fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers
goes not with me
   Cap. Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this
time: what is my Daughter gone to Frier Lawrence?
  Nur. I forsooth
   Cap. Well he may chance to do some good on her,
A peeuish selfe-wild harlotry it is.
Enter Iuliet.
  Nur. See where she comes from shrift
With merrie looke
   Cap. How now my headstrong,
Where haue you bin gadding?
  Iul. Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition:
To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd
By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here,
To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you,
Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you
   Cap. Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this,
Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning
   Iul. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell,
And gaue him what becomed Loue I might,
Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie
   Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp,
This is as't should be, let me see the County:
I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither.
Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier,
All our whole Cittie is much bound to him
   Iul. Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet,
To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments,
As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?
  Mo. No not till Thursday, there's time inough
   Fa. Go Nurse, go with her,
Weele to Church to morrow.
Exeunt. Iuliet and Nurse.
  Mo. We shall be short in our prouision,
'Tis now neere night
   Fa. Tush, I will stirre about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife:
Go thou to Iuliet, helpe to decke vp her,
Ile not to bed to night, let me alone:
Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho?
They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe
To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp
Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light,
Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd.
Exeunt. Father and Mother.
Enter Iuliet and Nurse.
  Iul. I those attires are best, but gentle Nurse
I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night:
For I haue need of many Orysons,
To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state,
Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin.
Enter Mother.
  Mo. What are you busie ho? need you my help?
  Iul. No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries
As are behoouefull for our state to morrow:
So please you, let me now be left alone;
And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you,
For I am sure, you haue your hands full all,
In this so sudden businesse
   Mo. Goodnight.
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
  Iul. Farewell:
God knowes when we shall meete againe.
I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines,
That almost freezes vp the heate of fire:
Ile call them backe againe to comfort me.
Nurse, what should she do here?
My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone:
Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all?
Shall I be married then to morrow morning?
No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there,
What if it be a poyson which the Frier
Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead,
Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not,
For he hath still beene tried a holy man.
How, if when I am laid into the Tombe,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point:
Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault?
To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes.
Or if I liue, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,
As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle,
Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones
Of all my buried Auncestors are packt,
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth,
Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say,
At some houres in the night, Spirits resort:
Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I
So early waking, what with loathsome smels,
And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth,
That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad.
O if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Inuironed with all these hidious feares,
And madly play with my forefathers ioynts?
And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his shrow'd?
And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone,
As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines.
O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost,
Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body
Vpon my Rapiers point: stay Tybalt, stay;
Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drinke: I drinke to thee.
Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.
  Lady. Hold,
Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse
   Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie.
Enter old Capulet.
  Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir,
The second Cocke hath Crow'd,
The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke:
Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica,
Spare not for cost
   Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go,
Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow
For this nights watching
   Cap. No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now
All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke
   La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time,
But I will watch you from such watching now.
Exit Lady and Nurse.
  Cap. A iealous hood, a iealous hood,
Now fellow, what there?
Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.
  Fel. Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what
   Cap. Make hast, make hast, sirrah, fetch drier Logs.
Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are
   Fel. I haue a head sir, that will find out logs,
And neuer trouble Peter for the matter
   Cap. Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha,
Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.
Play Musicke
The Countie will be here with Musicke straight,
For so he said he would, I heare him neere,
Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say?
Enter Nurse.
Go waken Iuliet, go and trim her vp,
Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make hast,
Make hast, the Bridegroome, he is come already:
Make hast I say
   Nur. Mistris, what Mistris? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she.
Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed,
Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride?
What not a word? You take your peniworths now.
Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant
The Countie Paris hath set vp his rest,
That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me:
Marrie and Amen: how sound is she a sleepe?
I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam,
I, let the Countie take you in your bed,
Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be?
What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe?
I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady?
Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead,
Oh weladay, that euer I was borne,
Some Aqua-vitæ ho, my Lord, my Lady?
  Mo. What noise is heere?
Enter Mother.
  Nur. O lamentable day
   Mo. What is the matter?
  Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day
   Mo. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life:
Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee:
Helpe, helpe, call helpe.
Enter Father.
  Fa. For shame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come
   Nur. Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day
   M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead
   Fa. Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold,
Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe:
Life and these lips haue long bene seperated:
Death lies on her like an vntimely frost
Vpon the swetest flower of all the field
   Nur. O Lamentable day!
  Mo. O wofull time
   Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile,
Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake.
Enter Frier and the Countie.
  Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church?
  Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne.
O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day,
Hath death laine with thy wife: there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowred by him.
Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire,
My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die,
And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths
   Pa. Haue I thought long to see this mornings face,
And doth it giue me such a sight as this?
  Mo. Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day,
Most miserable houre, that ere time saw
In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage.
But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child,
But one thing to reioyce and solace in,
And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight
   Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day,
Most lamentable day, most wofull day,
That euer, euer, I did yet behold.
O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day,
Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this:
O wofull day, O wofull day
   Pa. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine,
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne:
O loue, O life; not life, but loue in death
   Fat. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd,
Vncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now
To murther, murther our solemnitie?
O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child,
Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead,
And with my Child, my ioyes are buried
   Fri. Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not
In these confusions, heauen and your selfe
Had part in this faire Maid, now heauen hath all,
And all the better is it for the Maid:
Your part in her, you could not keepe from death,
But heauen keepes his part in eternall life:
The most you sought was her promotion,
For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st,
And weepe ye now, seeing she is aduan'st
Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe?
O in this loue, you loue your Child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
Shee's not well married, that liues married long,
But shee's best married, that dies married yong.
Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie
On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is,
And in her best array beare her to Church:
For though some Nature bids all vs lament,
Yet Natures teares are Reasons merriment
   Fa. All things that we ordained Festiuall,
Turne from their office to blacke Funerall:
Our instruments to melancholy Bells,
Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast:
Our solemne Hymnes, to sullen Dyrges change:
Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse:
And all things change them to the contrarie
   Fri. Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him,
And go sir Paris, euery one prepare
To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue:
The heauens do lowre vpon you, for some ill:
Moue them no more, by crossing their high will.
  Mu. Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone
   Nur. Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp,
For well you know, this is a pitifull case
   Mu. I by my troth, the case may be amended.
Enter Peter.
  Pet. Musitions, oh Musitions,
Hearts ease, hearts ease,
O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts ease
   Mu. Why hearts ease;
  Pet. O Musitions,
Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full
   Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now
   Pet. You will not then?
   Pet. I will then giue it you soundly
   Mu. What will you giue vs?
  Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke.
I will giue you the Minstrell
   Mu. Then will I giue you the Seruing creature
   Peter. Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger
on your pate. I will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa
you, do you note me?
  Mu. And you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs
   2.M. Pray you put vp your Dagger,
And put out your wit.
Then haue at you with my wit
   Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wit,
And put vp my yron Dagger.
Answere me like men:
When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Musicke
with her siluer sound.
Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound?
what say you Simon Catling?
  Mu. Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound
   Pet. Pratest, what say you Hugh Rebicke?
  2.M. I say siluer sound, because Musitions sound for siluer
  Pet. Pratest to, what say you Iames Sound-Post?
  3.Mu. Faith I know not what to say
   Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer.
I will say for you; it is Musicke with her siluer sound,
Because Musitions haue no gold for sounding:
Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe
doth lend redresse.
  Mu. What a pestilent knaue is this same?
  M.2. Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for
the Mourners, and stay dinner.
Enter Romeo.
  Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe,
My dreames presage some ioyfull newes at hand:
My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in his throne:
And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit,
Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts.
I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,
(Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,)
And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips,
That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour.
Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest,
When but loues shadowes are so rich in ioy.
Enter Romeo's man.
Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer?
Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier?
How doth my Lady? Is my Father well?
How doth my Lady Iuliet? that I aske againe,
For nothing can be ill, is she be well
   Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body sleepes in Capels Monument,
And her immortall part with Angels liue,
I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault,
And presently tooke Poste to tell it you:
O pardon me for bringing these ill newes,
Since you did leaue it for my office Sir
   Rom. Is it euen so?
Then I denie you Starres.
Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper,
And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night
   Man. I do beseech you sir, haue patience:
Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import
Some misaduenture
   Rom. Tush, thou art deceiu'd,
Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no Letters to me from the Frier?
  Man. No my good Lord.
  Rom. No matter: Get thee gone,
And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight,
Well Iuliet, I will lie with thee to night:
Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art swift,
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men:
I do remember an Appothecarie,
And here abouts dwells, which late I noted
In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes,
Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes,
Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones:
And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung,
An Allegater stuft, and other skins
Of ill shap'd fishes, and about his shelues,
A beggerly account of emptie boxes ,
Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes,
Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses
Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew.
Noting this penury, to my selfe I said,
An if a man did need a poyson now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him.
O this same thought did but fore-run my need,
And this same needie man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house,
Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut.
What ho? Appothecarie?
Enter Appothecarie.
  App. Who call's so low'd?
  Rom. Come hither man, I see that thou art poore,
Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue
A dram of poyson, such soone speeding geare,
As will disperse it selfe through all the veines,
That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead,
And that the Trunke may be discharg'd of breath,
As violently, as hastie powder fier'd
Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe
   App. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantuas law
Is death to any he, that vtters them
   Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse,
And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheekes,
Need and opression starueth in thy eyes,
Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe:
The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law:
The world affords no law to make thee rich.
Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this
   App. My pouerty, but not my will consents
   Rom. I pray thy pouerty, and not thy will
   App. Put this in any liquid thing you will
And drinke it off, and if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight
   Rom. There's thy Gold,
Worse poyson to mens soules,
Doing more murther in this loathsome world,
Then these poore compounds that thou maiest not sell.
I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none,
Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh.
Come Cordiall, and not poyson, go with me
To Iuliets graue, for there must I vse thee.
Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.
  Iohn. Holy Franciscan Frier, Brother, ho?
Enter Frier Lawrence.
  Law. This same should be the voice of Frier Iohn.
Welcome from Mantua, what sayes Romeo?
Or if his mind be writ, giue me his Letter
   Iohn. Going to find a bare-foote Brother out,
One of our order to associate me,
Here in this Citie visiting the sick,
And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did raigne,
Seal'd vp the doores, and would not let vs forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was staid
   Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo?
  Iohn. I could not send it, here it is againe,
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearefull were they of infection
   Law. Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood
The Letter was not nice; but full of charge,
Of deare import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger: Frier Iohn go hence,
Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight
Vnto my Cell
   Iohn. Brother Ile go and bring it thee.
  Law. Now must I to the Monument alone,
Within this three houres will faire Iuliet wake,
Shee will beshrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents:
But I will write againe to Mantua,
And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come,
Poore liuing Coarse, clos'd in a dead mans Tombe,
Enter Paris and his Page.
  Par. Giue me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft,
Yet put it out, for I would not be seene:
Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground,
So shall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread,
Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues,
But thou shalt heare it: whistle then to me,
As signall that thou hearest some thing approach,
Giue me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go
   Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the Churchyard, yet I will aduenture
   Pa. Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew:
O woe, thy Canopie is dust and stones,
Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe,
Or wanting that, with teares destil'd by mones;
The obsequies that I for thee will keepe,
Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue, and weepe.
Whistle Boy.
The Boy giues warning, something doth approach,
What cursed foot wanders this wayes to night,
To crosse my obsequies, and true loues right?
What with a Torch? Muffle me night a while.
Enter Romeo, and Peter.
  Rom. Giue me that Mattocke, & the wrenching Iron,
Hold take this Letter, early in the morning
See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father,
Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee,
What ere thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloofe,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my Ladies face:
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger,
A precious Ring, a Ring that I must vse,
In deare employment, therefore hence be gone:
But if thou iealous dost returne to prie
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt,
And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs:
The time, and my intents are sauage wilde:
More fierce and more inexorable farre,
Them emptie Tygers, or the roaring Sea
   Pet. I will be gone sir, and not trouble you
  Ro. So shalt thou shew me friendship: take thou that,
Liue and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow
   Pet. For all this same, Ile hide me here about,
His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt
   Rom. Thou detestable mawe, thou wombe of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsell of the earth:
Thus I enforce thy rotten Iawes to open,
And in despight, Ile cram thee with more food
   Par. This is that banisht haughtie Mountague,
That murdred my Loues Cozin; with which griefe,
It is supposed the faire Creature died,
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.
Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague:
Can vengeance be pursued further then death?
Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee.
Obey and go with me, for thou must die,
  Rom. I must indeed, and therfore came I hither:
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,
Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon those gone,
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth,
Put not an other sin vpon my head,
By vrging me to furie. O be gone,
By heauen I loue thee better then my selfe,
For I come hither arm'd against my selfe:
Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter say,
A mad mans mercy bid thee run away
   Par. I do defie thy commisseration,
And apprehend thee for a Fellon here
   Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy
   Pet. O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch
   Pa. O I am slaine, if thou be mercifull,
Open the Tombe, lay me with Iuliet
   Rom. In faith I will, let me peruse this face:
Mercutius kinsman, Noble Countie Paris,
What said my man, when my betossed soule
Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke
He told me Paris should haue married Iuliet.
Said he not so? Or did I dreame it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet,
To thinke it was so? O giue me thy hand,
One, writ with me in sowre misfortunes booke.
Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue.
A Graue; O no, a Lanthorne; slaughtred Youth:
For here lies Iuliet, and her beautie makes
This Vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd,
How oft when men are at the point of death,
Haue they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call
A lightning before death? Oh how may I
Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife,
Death that hath suckt the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie:
Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties ensigne yet
Is Crymson in thy lips, and in thy cheekes,
And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there.
Tybalt, ly'st thou there in thy bloudy sheet?
O what more fauour can I do to thee,
Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine,
To sunder his that was thy enemie?
Forgiue me Cozen. Ah deare Iuliet:
Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeue,
Shall I beleeue, that vnsubstantiall death is amorous?
And that the leane abhorred Monster keepes
Thee here in darke to be his Paramour?
For feare of that, I still will stay with thee,
And neuer from this Pallace of dym night
Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes,
Heere's to thy health, where ere thou tumblest in.
O true Appothecarie!
Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die.
Depart againe; here, here will I remaine,
With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here
Will I set vp my euerlasting rest:
And shake the yoke of inauspicious starres
From this world-wearied flesh: Eyes looke your last:
Armes take your last embrace: And lips, O you
The doores of breath, seale with a righteous kisse
A datelesse bargaine to ingrossing death:
Come bitter conduct, come vnsauory guide,
Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on
The dashing Rocks, thy Sea-sicke wearie Barke:
Heere's to my Loue. O true Appothecary:
Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die.
Enter Frier with a Lanthorne, Crow, and Spade.
  Fri. St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night
Haue my old feet stumbled at graues? Who's there?
  Man. Here's one, a Friend, & one that knowes you well
   Fri. Blisse be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend
What Torch is yond that vainely lends his light
To grubs, and eyelesse Sculles? As I discerne,
It burneth in the Capels Monument
   Man. It doth so holy sir,
And there's my Master, one that you loue
   Fri. Who is it?
  Man. Romeo
   Fri. How long hath he bin there?
  Man. Full halfe an houre
   Fri. Go with me to the Vault
   Man. I dare not Sir.
My Master knowes not but I am gone hence,
And fearefully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to looke on his entents
   Fri. Stay, then Ile go alone, feares comes vpon me.
O much I feare some ill vnluckie thing
   Man. As I did sleepe vnder this young tree here,
I dreamt my maister and another fought,
And that my Maister slew him
   Fri. Romeo.
Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which staines
The stony entrance of this Sepulcher?
What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
Romeo, oh pale: who else? what Paris too?
And steept in blood? Ah what an vnkind houre
Is guiltie of this lamentable chance?
The Lady stirs
   Iul. O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord?
I do remember well where I should be:
And there I am, where is my Romeo?
  Fri. I heare some noyse Lady, come from that nest
Of death, contagion, and vnnaturall sleepe,
A greater power then we can contradict
Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away,
Thy husband in thy bosome there lies dead:
And Paris too: come Ile dispose of thee,
Among a Sisterhood of holy Nunnes:
Stay not to question, for the watch is comming.
Come, go good Iuliet, I dare no longer stay.
  Iul. Go get thee hence, for I will not away,
What's here, A cup clos'd in my true loues hand?
Poyson I see hath bin his timelesse end
O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop,
To helpe me after, I will kisse thy lips,
Happlie some poyson yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restoratiue.
Thy lips are warme.
Enter Boy and Watch.
  Watch. Lead Boy, which way?
  Iul. Yea noise?
Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger.
'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die.
Kils herselfe.
  Boy. This is the place,
There where the Torch doth burne
  Watch. The ground is bloody,
Search about the Churchyard.
Go some of you, who ere you find attach.
Pittifull sight, here lies the Countie slaine,
And Iuliet bleeding, warme and newly dead
Who here hath laine these two dayes buried.
Go tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets,
Raise vp the Mountagues, some others search,
We see the ground whereon these woes do lye,
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,
We cannot without circumstance descry.
Enter Romeo's man.
  Watch. Here's Romeo's man,
We found him in the Churchyard
   Con. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.
Enter Frier, and another Watchman.
  3.Wat. Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes
We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him,
As he was comming from this Church-yard side
   Con. A great suspition, stay the Frier too.
Enter the Prince.
  Prin. What misaduenture is so earely vp,
That calls our person from our mornings rest?
Enter Capulet and his Wife.
  Cap. What should it be that they so shrike abroad?
  Wife. O the people in the streete crie Romeo.
Some Iuliet, and some Paris, and all runne
With open outcry toward our Monument
   Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares?
  Wat. Soueraigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine,
And Romeo dead, and Iuliet dead before,
Warme and new kil'd
   Prin. Search,
Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes
   Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romeos man,
With Instruments vpon them fit to open
These dead mens Tombes
   Cap. O heauen!
O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes!
This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house
Is empty on the backe of Mountague,
And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome
   Wife. O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell
That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher.
Enter Mountague.
  Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp
To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe
   Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night,
Griefe of my Sonnes exile hath stopt her breath:
What further woe conspires against my age?
  Prin. Looke: and thou shalt see
   Moun. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this,
To presse before thy Father to a graue?
  Prin. Seale vp the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can cleare these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true descent,
And then I will be generall of your woes,
And lead you euen to death? meane time forbeare,
And let mischance be slaue to patience,
Bring forth the parties of suspition
   Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe least,
Yet most suspected as the time and place
Doth make against me of this direfull murther:
And heere I stand both to impeach and purge
My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd
   Prin. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this?
  Fri. I will be briefe, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo there dead, was husband to that Iuliet,
And she there dead, that's Romeos faithfull wife:
I married them; and their stolne marriage day
Was Tybalts Doomesday: whose vntimely death
Banish'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie:
For whom (and not for Tybalt) Iuliet pinde.
You, to remoue that siege of Greefe from her,
Betroth'd, and would haue married her perforce
To Countie Paris. Then comes she to me,
And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuise some meanes
To rid her from this second Marriage,
Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe.
Then gaue I her (so Tutor'd by my Art)
A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dyre night,
To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue,
Being the time the Potions force should cease.
But he which bore my Letter, Frier Iohn,
Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone,
At the prefixed houre of her waking,
Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault,
Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell,
Till I conueniently could send to Romeo.
But when I came (some Minute ere the time
Of her awaking) heere vntimely lay
The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth,
And beare this worke of Heauen, with patience:
But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe,
And she (too desperate) would not go with me,
But (as it seemes) did violence on her selfe.
All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is priuy:
And if ought in this miscarried by my fault,
Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time,
Vnto the rigour of seuerest Law
   Prin. We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man.
Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this?
  Boy. I brought my Master newes of Iuliets death,
And then in poste he came from Mantua
To this same place, to this same Monument.
This Letter he early bid me giue his Father,
And threatned me with death, going in the Vault,
If I departed not, and left him there
   Prin. Giue me the Letter, I will look on it.
Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch?
Sirra, what made your Master in this place?
  Page. He came with flowres to strew his Ladies graue,
And bid me stand aloofe, and so I did:
Anon comes one with light to ope the Tombe,
And by and by my Maister drew on him,
And then I ran away to call the Watch
   Prin. This Letter doth make good the Friers words,
Their course of Loue, the tydings of her death:
And heere he writes, that he did buy a poyson
Of a poore Pothecarie, and therewithall
Came to this Vault to dye, and lye with Iuliet.
Where be these Enemies? Capulet, Mountague,
See what a scourge is laide vpon your hate,
That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue;
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Haue lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd
   Cap. O Brother Mountague, giue me thy hand,
This is my Daughters ioynture, for no more
Can I demand
   Moun. But I can giue thee more:
For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold,
That whiles Verona by that name is knowne,
There shall no figure at that Rate be set,
As that of True and Faithfull Iuliet
   Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his Lady ly,
Poore sacrifices of our enmity
   Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings,
The Sunne for sorrow will not shew his head;
Go hence, to haue more talke of these sad things,
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished.
For neuer was a Storie of more Wo,
Then this of Iuliet, and her Romeo.
Exeunt. omnes
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF ROMEO and IVLIET
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
A Midsommer Nights Dreame
Actus primus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others.
  Theseus. Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre
Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in
Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow
This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires
Like to a Step-dame, or a Dowager,
Long withering out a yong mans reuennew
   Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep the[m]selues in nights
Foure nights wil quickly dreame away the time:
And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow,
Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night
Of our solemnities
   The. Go Philostrate,
Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments,
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth,
Turne melancholy forth to Funerals:
The pale companion is not for our pompe,
Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries:
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling.
Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.
  Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke
   The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee?
  Ege. Full of vexation, come I, with complaint
Against my childe, my daughter Hermia.
Stand forth Demetrius.
My Noble Lord,
This man hath my consent to marrie her.
Stand forth Lysander.
And my gracious Duke,
This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe:
Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast giuen her rimes,
And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe:
Thou hast by Moone-light at her window sung,
With faining voice, verses of faining loue,
And stolne the impression of her fantasie,
With bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits,
Knackes, trifles, Nose-gaies, sweet meats (messengers
Of strong preuailment in vnhardned youth)
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart,
Turn'd her obedience (which is due to me)
To stubborne harshnesse. And my gracious Duke,
Be it so she will not heere before your Grace,
Consent to marrie with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens;
As she is mine, I may dispose of her;
Which shall be either to this Gentleman,
Or to her death, according to our Law,
Immediately prouided in that case
   The. What say you Hermia? be aduis'd faire Maide,
To you your Father should be as a God;
One that compos'd your beauties; yea and one
To whom you are but as a forme in waxe
By him imprinted: and within his power,
To leaue the figure, or disfigure it:
Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman
   Her. So is Lysander
   The. In himselfe he is.
But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce,
The other must be held the worthier
   Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes
   The. Rather your eies must with his iudgment looke
   Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concerne my modestie
In such a presence heere to pleade my thoughts:
But I beseech your Grace, that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius
   The. Either to dye the death, or to abiure
For euer the society of men.
Therefore faire Hermia question your desires,
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers choice)
You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne,
For aye to be in shady Cloister mew'd,
To liue a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymnes to the cold fruitlesse Moone,
Thrice blessed they that master so their blood,
To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage,
But earthlier happie is the Rose distil'd,
Then that which withering on the virgin thorne,
Growes, liues, and dies, in single blessednesse
   Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord,
Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vp
Vnto his Lordship, whose vnwished yoake,
My soule consents not to giue soueraignty
   The. Take time to pause, and by the next new Moon
The sealing day betwixt my loue and me,
For euerlasting bond of fellowship:
Vpon that day either prepare to dye,
For disobedience to your fathers will,
Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would,
Or on Dianaes Altar to protest
For aie, austerity, and single life
   Dem. Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeelde
Thy crazed title to my certaine right
   Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius:
Let me haue Hermiaes: do you marry him
   Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue;
And what is mine, my loue shall render him.
And she is mine, and all my right of her,
I do estate vnto Demetrius
   Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he,
As well possest: my loue is more then his:
My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd
(If not with vantage) as Demetrius:
And (which is more then all these boasts can be)
I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia.
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head,
Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,
And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes,
Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,
Vpon this spotted and inconstant man
   The. I must confesse, that I haue heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to haue spoke thereof:
But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires,
My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come,
And come Egeus, you shall go with me,
I haue some priuate schooling for you both.
For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your selfe,
To fit your fancies to your Fathers will;
Or else the Law of Athens yeelds you vp
(Which by no meanes we may extenuate)
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue?
Demetrius and Egeus go along:
I must imploy you in some businesse
Against our nuptiall, and conferre with you
Of something, neerely that concernes your selues
   Ege. With dutie and desire we follow you.
Manet Lysander and Hermia.
  Lys. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the Roses there do fade so fast?
  Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could well
Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes
   Lys. For ought that euer I could reade,
Could euer heare by tale or historie,
The course of true loue neuer did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood
   Her. O crosse! too high to be enthral'd to loue
   Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of yeares
   Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to yong
   Lys. Or else it stood vpon the choise of merit
   Her. O hell! to choose loue by anothers eie
   Lys. Or if there were a simpathie in choise,
Warre, death, or sicknesse, did lay siege to it;
Making it momentarie, as a sound:
Swift as a shadow, short as any dreame,
Briefe as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a spleene) vnfolds both heauen and earth;
And ere a man hath power to say, behold,
The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp:
So quicke bright things come to confusion
   Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer crost,
It stands as an edict in destinie:
Then let vs teach our triall patience,
Because it is a customarie crosse,
As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes,
Wishes and teares; poore Fancies followers
   Lys. A good perswasion; therefore heare me Hermia,
I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager,
Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe,
From Athens is her house remou'd seuen leagues,
And she respects me, as her onely sonne:
There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee,
And to that place, the sharpe Athenian Law
Cannot pursue vs. If thou lou'st me, then
Steale forth thy Fathers house to morrow night:
And in the wood, a league without the towne,
(Where I did meete thee once with Helena.
To do obseruance for a morne of May)
There will I stay for thee
   Her. My good Lysander,
I sweare to thee, by Cupids strongest bow,
By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the simplicitie of Venus Doues,
By that which knitteth soules, and prospers loue,
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene,
When the false Troyan vnder saile was seene,
By all the vowes that euer men haue broke,
(In number more then euer women spoke)
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To morrow truly will I meete with thee
   Lys. Keepe promise loue: looke here comes Helena.
Enter Helena.
  Her. God speede faire Helena, whither away?
  Hel. Cal you me faire? that faire againe vnsay,
Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire!
Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues sweete ayre
More tuneable then Larke to shepheards eare,
When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appeare,
Sicknesse is catching: O were fauor so,
Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go,
My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongues sweete melodie,
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest Ile giue to be to you translated.
O teach me how you looke, and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius hart
   Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still
   Hel. O that your frownes would teach my smiles
   Her. I giue him curses, yet he giues me loue
   Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue
   Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me
   Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me
   Her. His folly Helena is none of mine
   Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine
  Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face,
Lysander and my selfe will flie this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee.
O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell
   Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold,
To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse,
Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse
(A time that Louers flights doth still conceale)
Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale
   Her. And in the wood, where often you and I,
Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye,
Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld:
There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete,
And thence from Athens turne away our eyes
To seeke new friends and strange companions,
Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs,
And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius.
Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight,
From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.
Exit Hermia.
  Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu,
As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you.
Exit Lysander.
  Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be?
Through Athens I am thought as faire as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so:
He will not know, what all, but he doth know,
And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes;
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vilde, holding no quantity,
Loue can transpose to forme and dignity,
Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde,
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde.
Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste:
Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste.
And therefore is Loue said to be a childe,
Because in choise he is often beguil'd,
As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare;
So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where.
For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne,
He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine.
And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt,
I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight:
Then to the wood will he, to morrow night
Pursue her; and for his intelligence,
If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence:
But heerein meane I to enrich my paine,
To haue his sight thither, and backe againe.
Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer,
the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor.
  Quin. Is all our company heere?
  Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by
man according to the scrip
   Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which
is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude
before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding
day at night
   Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats
on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on
   Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy,
and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie
   Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a
merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors
by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues
   Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the
   Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and
   Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus
   Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?
  Quin. A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly for
   Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing
of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies:
I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure.
To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could
play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all
split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break
the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine
from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This
was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This
is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoling
   Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender
   Flu. Heere Peter Quince
   Quin. You must take Thisbie on you
   Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?
  Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue
   Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a
beard comming
   Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and
you may speake as small as you will
   Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too:
Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah
Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady
   Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you
   Bot. Well, proceed
   Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor
   Star. Heere Peter Quince
   Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies
Tom Snowt, the Tinker
   Snowt. Heere Peter Quince
   Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father;
Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there
is a play fitted
   Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if
be, giue it me, for I am slow of studie
   Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing
   Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I
will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare,
that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let
him roare againe
   Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would
fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would
shrike, and that were enough to hang us all
   All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne
   Bottome. I graunt you friends, if that you should
fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would
haue no more discretion but to hang vs: but I will aggrauate
my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as
any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale
   Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus
is a sweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in
a summers day; a most louely Gentleman-like man, therfore
you must needs play Piramus
   Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I
best to play it in?
  Quin. Why, what you will
   Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour
beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine
beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your perfect
   Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire
at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here
are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and
desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet
me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by
Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in
the Citie, we shalbe dog'd with company, and our deuises
knowne. In the meane time, I wil draw a bil of properties,
such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not
   Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse
more obscenely and couragiously. Take paines, be perfect,
   Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete
   Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-strings.
Actus Secundus.
Enter a Fairie at one dore, and Robin goodfellow at another.
  Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you?
  Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale, through bush, through briar,
Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire,
I do wander euerie where, swifter then y Moons sphere;
And I serue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the green.
The Cowslips tall, her pensioners bee,
In their gold coats, spots you see,
Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors,
In those freckles, liue their sauors,
I must go seeke some dew drops heere,
And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare.
Farewell thou Lob of spirits, Ile be gon,
Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon
   Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night,
Take heed the Queene come not within his sight,
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she, as her attendant, hath
A louely boy stolne from an Indian King,
She neuer had so sweet a changeling,
And iealous Oberon would haue the childe
Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde.
But she (perforce) with-holds the loued boy,
Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her ioy.
And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene,
By fountaine cleere, or spangled star-light sheene,
But they do square, that all their Elues for feare
Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there
   Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrew'd and knauish spirit
Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee,
That frights the maidens of the Villagree,
Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne,
And bootlesse make the breathlesse huswife cherne,
And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme,
Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme,
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke,
You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke.
Are not you he?
  Rob. Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merrie wanderer of the night:
I iest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale,
And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole,
In very likenesse of a roasted crab:
And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale.
The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me,
Then slip I from her bum, downe topples she,
And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe.
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare,
A merrier houre was neuer wasted there.
But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon
   Fair. And heere my Mistris:
Would that he were gone.
Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and the
another with hers.
  Ob. Ill met by Moone-light.
Proud Tytania
   Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence.
I haue forsworne his bed and companie
   Ob. Tarrie rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord?
  Qu. Then I must be thy Lady: but I know
When thou wast stolne away from Fairy Land,
And in the shape of Corin, sate all day,
Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou heere
Come from the farthest steepe of India?
But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon
Your buskin'd Mistresse, and your Warrior loue,
To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come,
To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie
   Ob. How canst thou thus for shame Tytania.
Glance at my credite, with Hippolita?
Knowing I know thy loue to Theseus?
Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night
From Peregenia, whom he rauished?
And make him with faire Eagles breake his faith
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?
  Que. These are the forgeries of iealousie,
And neuer since the middle Summers spring
Met we on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead,
By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde,
But with thy braules thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine,
As in reuenge, haue suck'd vp from the sea
Contagious fogges: Which falling in the Land,
Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud,
That they haue ouer-borne their Continents.
The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine,
The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the greene Corne
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard:
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And Crowes are fatted with the murrion flocke,
The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud,
And the queint Mazes in the wanton greene,
For lacke of tread are vndistinguishable.
The humane mortals want their winter heere,
No night is now with hymne or caroll blest;
Therefore the Moone (the gouernesse of floods)
Pale in her anger, washes all the aire;
That Rheumaticke diseases doe abound.
And through this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter; hoared headed Frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose,
And on old Hyems chinne and Icie crowne,
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer buds
Is as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer,
The childing Autumne, angry Winter change
Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knowes not which is which;
And this same progeny of euills,
Comes from our debate, from our dissention,
We are their parents and originall
   Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you,
Why should Titania crosse her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my Henchman
   Qu. Set your heart at rest,
The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me,
His mother was a Votresse of my Order,
And in the spiced Indian aire, by night
Full often hath she gossipt by my side,
And sat with me on Neptunes yellow sands,
Marking th' embarked traders on the flood,
When we haue laught to see the sailes conceiue,
And grow big bellied with the wanton winde:
Which she with pretty and with swimming gate,
Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire)
Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land,
To fetch me trifles, and returne againe,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandize.
But she being mortall, of that boy did die,
And for her sake I doe reare vp her boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him
   Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay?
  Qu. Perchance till after Theseus wedding day.
If you will patiently dance in our Round,
And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs;
If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts
   Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee
   Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away:
We shall chide downe right, if I longer stay.
   Ob. Wel, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groue,
Till I torment thee for this iniury.
My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrest
Since once I sat vpon a promontory,
And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe,
Vttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew ciuill at her song,
And certaine starres shot madly from their Spheares,
To heare the Sea-maids musicke
   Puc. I remember
   Ob. That very time I say (but thou couldst not)
Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth,
Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tooke
At a faire Vestall, throned by the West,
And loos'd his loue-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts,
But I might see young Cupids fiery shaft
Quencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone;
And the imperiall Votresse passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell vpon a little westerne flower;
Before, milke-white: now purple with loues wound,
And maidens call it, Loue in idlenesse.
Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once,
The iuyce of it, on sleeping eye-lids laid,
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Vpon the next liue creature that it sees.
Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe,
Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league
   Pucke. Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes
   Ober. Hauing once this iuyce,
Ile watch Titania, when she is asleepe,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:
The next thing when she waking lookes vpon,
(Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull,
On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape)
Shee shall pursue it, with the soule of loue.
And ere I take this charme off from her sight,
(As I can take it with another hearbe)
Ile make her render vp her Page to me.
But who comes heere? I am inuisible,
And I will ouer-heare their conference.
Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.
  Deme. I loue thee not, therefore pursue me not,
Where is Lysander, and faire Hermia?
The one Ile stay, the other stayeth me.
Thou toldst me they were stolne into this wood;
And heere am I, and wood within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more
   Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant,
But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart
Is true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw,
And I shall haue no power to follow you
   Deme. Do I entice you? do I speake you faire?
Or rather doe I not in plainest truth,
Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you?
  Hel. And euen for that doe I loue thee the more;
I am your spaniell, and Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawne on you.
Vse me but as your spaniell; spurne me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue
(Vnworthy as I am) to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your loue,
(And yet a place of high respect with me)
Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge
   Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit,
For I am sicke when I do looke on thee
   Hel. And I am sicke when I looke not on you
   Dem. You doe impeach your modesty too much,
To leaue the Citty, and commit your selfe
Into the hands of one that loues you not,
To trust the opportunity of night.
And the ill counsell of a desert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity
   Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for that
It is not night when I doe see your face.
Therefore I thinke I am not in the night,
Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company,
For you in my respect are all the world.
Then how can it be said I am alone,
When all the world is heere to looke on me?
  Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,
And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts
   Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you;
Runne when you will, the story shall be chang'd:
Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase;
The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde Hinde
Makes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootlesse speede,
When cowardise pursues, and valour flies
   Demet. I will not stay thy questions, let me go;
Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue,
But I shall doe thee mischiefe in the wood
   Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field
You doe me mischiefe. Fye Demetrius,
Your wrongs doe set a scandall on my sexe:
We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe.
I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell,
To die vpon the hand I loue so well.
  Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue,
Thou shalt flie him, and he shall seeke thy loue.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.
Enter Pucke.
  Puck. I there it is
   Ob. I pray thee giue it me.
I know a banke where the wilde time blowes,
Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes,
Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine,
With sweet muske roses, and with Eglantine;
There sleepes Tytania, sometime of the night,
Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight:
And there the snake throwes her enammel'd skinne,
Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in.
And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes,
And make her full of hatefull fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this groue;
A sweet Athenian Lady is in loue
With a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes,
But doe it when the next thing he espies,
May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may proue
More fond on her, then she vpon her loue;
And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow
   Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so.
Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.
  Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song;
Then for the third part of a minute hence,
Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds,
Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings.
To make my small Elues coates, and some keepe backe
The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders
At our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe,
Then to your offices, and let me rest
   Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue,
Thorny Hedgehogges be not seene,
Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong,
Come not neere our Fairy Queene.
Philomele with melodie,
Sing in your sweet Lullaby.
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,
Neuer harme, nor spell, nor charme,
Come our louely Lady nye,
So good night with Lullaby
   2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere,
Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence:
Beetles blacke approach not neere;
Worme nor Snayle doe no offence.
Philomele with melody, &c
   1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well;
One aloofe, stand Centinell.
Shee sleepes.
Enter Oberon.
  Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true Loue take:
Loue and languish for his sake.
Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare,
Pard, or Boare with bristled haire,
In thy eye that shall appeare,
When thou wak'st, it is thy deare,
Wake when some vile thing is neere.
Enter Lisander and Hermia.
  Lis. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in y woods,
And to speake troth I haue forgot our way:
Wee'll rest vs Hermia, If you thinke it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day
   Her. Be it so Lysander; finde you out a bed,
For I vpon this banke will rest my head
   Lys. One turfe shall serue as pillow for vs both,
One heart, one bed, two bosomes, and one troth
   Her. Nay good Lysander, for my sake my deere
Lie further off yet, doe not lie so neere
   Lys. O take the sence sweet, of my innocence,
Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference,
I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,
So that but one heart can you make of it.
Two bosomes interchanged with an oath,
So then two bosomes, and a single troth.
Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny,
For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye
   Her. Lysander riddles very prettily;
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied.
But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie
Lie further off, in humane modesty,
Such separation, as may well be said,
Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide,
So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend;
Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end
   Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I,
And then end life, when I end loyalty:
Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest
   Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest.
Enter Pucke. They sleepe.
  Puck. Through the Forest haue I gone,
But Athenian finde I none,
One whose eyes I might approue
This flowers force in stirring loue.
Nigh and silence: who is heere?
Weedes of Athens he doth weare:
This is he (my master said)
Despised the Athenian maide:
And heere the maiden sleeping sound,
On the danke and durty ground.
Pretty soule, she durst not lye
Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie.
Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charme doth owe:
When thou wak'st, let loue forbid
Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid.
So awake when I am gone:
For I must now to Oberon.
Enter Demetrius and Helena running.
  Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius
   De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus
   Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so
   De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.
Exit Demetrius.
  Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace,
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace,
Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies;
For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt teares.
If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers.
No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare;
For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare,
Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius
Doe as a monster, flie my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine,
Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander on the ground;
Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound,
Lysander, if you liue, good sir awake
   Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
Transparent Helena, nature her shewes art,
That through thy bosome makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perish on my sword!
  Hel. Do not say so Lysander, say not so:
What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content
   Lys. Content with Hermia? no, I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her haue spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;
Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd:
And reason saies you are the worthier Maide.
Things growing are not ripe vntill their season;
So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason,
And touching now the point of humane skill,
Reason becomes the Marshall to my will.
And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke
Loues stories, written in Loues richest booke
   Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?
When at your hands did I deserue this scorne?
Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man,
That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,
Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do)
In such disdainfull manner, me to wooe.
But fare you well; perforce I must confesse,
I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse.
Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,
Should of another therefore be abus'd.
   Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there,
And neuer maist thou come Lysander neere;
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomacke brings:
Or as the heresies that men do leaue,
Are hated most of those that did deceiue:
So thou, my surfeit, and my heresie,
Of all be hated; but the most of me;
And all my powers addresse your loue and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight.
  Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best
To plucke this crawling serpent from my brest.
Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?
Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare:
Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away,
And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey.
Lysander, What remoou'd? Lysander, Lord,
What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?
Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare:
Speake of all loues; I sound almost with feare.
No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,
Either death or you Ile finde immediately.
Actus Tertius.
Enter the Clownes.
  Bot. Are we all met?
  Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient
place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our
stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will
do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke
   Bot. Peter Quince?
  Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome?
  Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and
Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a
sword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide.
How answere you that?
  Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare
   Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when
   Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well.
Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say,
we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus
is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance,
tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the
Weauer; this will put them out of feare
   Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall
be written in eight and sixe
   Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight
   Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?
  Star. I feare it, I promise you
   Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to
bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most
dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde
foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke
   Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not
   Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face
must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe
must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect;
Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would
request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to
tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither
as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such
thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let
him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the
   Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard
things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a chamber:
for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moonelight
   Sn. Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our
  Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack,
finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine.
Enter Pucke.
  Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night
   Bot. Why then may you leaue a casement of the great
chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone
may shine in at the casement
   Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns
and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present
the person of Moone-shine. Then there is another
thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Piramus
and Thisby (saies the story) did talke through the
chinke of a wall
   Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you
  Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let
him haue some Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough
cast about him, to signifie wall; or let him hold his fingers
thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus and
Thisby whisper
   Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit
downe euery mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts.
Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech,
enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his
Enter Robin.
  Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggering
So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene?
What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor,
An Actor too perhaps, if I see cause
   Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth
   Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious sauors sweete
   Quin. Odours, odours
   Pir. Odours sauors sweete,
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare.
But harke, a voyce: stay thou but here a while,
And by and by I will to thee appeare.
  Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here
   This. Must I speake now?
  Pet. I marry must you. For you must vnderstand he
goes but to see a noyse that he heard, and is to come againe
   Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer,
Most brisky Iuuenall, and eke most louely Iew,
As true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre,
Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe
   Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake
that yet; that you answere to Piramus: you speake all
your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is
past; it is neuer tyre
   Thys. O, as true as truest horse, that yet would neuer
  Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine
   Pet. O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; pray
masters, flye masters, helpe.
The Clownes all Exit.
  Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round,
Through bogge, through bush, through brake, through bryer,
Sometime a horse Ile be, sometime a hound:
A hogge, a headlesse beare, sometime a fire,
And neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne,
Like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne.
Enter Piramus with the Asse head.
  Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knauery of
them to make me afeard.
   Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see on
  Bot. What do you see? You see an Asse-head of your
owne, do you?
Enter Peter Quince.
  Pet. Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art translated.
  Bot. I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me,
to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from
this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe
here, and I will sing that they shall heare I am not afraid.
The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew,
With Orenge-tawny bill.
The Throstle, with his note so true,
The Wren and little quill
   Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed?
  Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke,
The plainsong Cuckow gray;
Whose note full many a man doth marke,
And dares not answere, nay.
For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,
  Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe,
Mine eare is much enamored of thy note;
On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee.
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.
And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me
   Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little
reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and
loue keepe little company together, nowadayes.
The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will
not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion
   Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull
   Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get
out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne
   Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe,
Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate:
The Summer still doth tend vpon my state,
And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me,
Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe,
And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleepe:
And I will purge thy mortall grossenesse so,
That thou shalt like an airie spirit go.
Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foure
  Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?
  Tita. Be kinde and curteous to this Gentleman,
Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his eies,
Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries,
With purple Grapes, greene Figs, and Mulberries,
The honie-bags steale from the humble Bees,
And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes,
And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes,
To haue my loue to bed, and to arise:
And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies,
To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eies.
Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies
   1.Fai. Haile mortall, haile
   2.Fai. Haile
   3.Fai. Haile
   Bot. I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech
your worships name
   Cob. Cobweb
   Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good
Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold
Your name honest Gentleman?
  Pease. Pease Blossome
   Bot. I pray you commend me to mistresse Squash,
your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good
master Pease-blossome, I shal desire of you more acquaintance
to. Your name I beseech you sir?
  Mus. Mustard-seede
   Peas. Pease-blossome
   Bot. Good master Mustard seede, I know your patience
well: that same cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe
hath deuoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise
you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere
now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master
Mustard-seede
   Tita. Come waite vpon him, lead him to my bower.
The Moone me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie,
And when she weepes, weepe euerie little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastitie.
Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently.
Enter King of Pharies, solus.
  Ob. I wonder if Titania be awak't;
Then what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must dote on, in extremitie.
Enter Pucke.
Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit,
What night-rule now about this haunted groue?
  Puck. My Mistris with a monster is in loue,
Neere to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hower,
A crew of patches, rude Mechanicals,
That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals,
Were met together to rehearse a Play,
Intended for great Theseus nuptiall day:
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
Who Piramus presented, in their sport,
Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake,
When I did him at this aduantage take,
An Asses nole I fixed on his head.
Anon his Thisbie must be answered,
And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie,
As Wilde-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye,
Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort
(Rising and cawing at the guns report)
Seuer themselues, and madly sweepe the skye:
So at his sight, away his fellowes flye,
And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals;
He murther cries, and helpe from Athens cals.
Their sense thus weake, lost with their feares thus strong,
Made senslesse things begin to do them wrong.
For briars and thornes at their apparell snatch,
Some sleeues, some hats, from yeelders all things catch,
I led them on in this distracted feare,
And left sweete Piramus translated there:
When in that moment (so it came to passe)
Tytania waked, and straightway lou'd an Asse
   Ob. This fals out better then I could deuise:
But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes,
With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe?
  Rob. I tooke him sleeping (that is finisht to)
And the Athenian woman by his side,
That when he wak't, of force she must be eyde.
Enter Demetrius and Hermia.
  Ob. Stand close, this is the same Athenian
   Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man
   Dem. O why rebuke you him that loues you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe
   Her. Now I but chide, but I should vse thee worse.
For thou (I feare) hast giuen me cause to curse,
If thou hast slaine Lysander in his sleepe,
Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill
The Sunne was not so true vnto the day,
As he to me. Would he haue stollen away,
From sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as soone
This whole earth may be bord, and that the Moone
May through the Center creepe, and so displease
Her brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murdred him,
So should a murtherer looke, so dead, so grim
   Dem. So should the murderer looke, and so should I,
Pierst through the heart with your stearne cruelty:
Yet you the murderer lookes as bright as cleare,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare
   Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he?
Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me?
  Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my hounds
   Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the bounds
Of maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then?
Henceforth be neuer numbred among men.
Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake,
Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake?
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O braue tutch:
Could not a worme, an Adder do so much?
An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue
Then thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung
   Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood,
I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood:
Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell
   Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well
   Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore?
  Her. A priuiledge, neuer to see me more;
And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more
Whether he be dead or no.
  Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine,
Here therefore for a while I will remaine.
So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow:
For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe,
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay.
  Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite
And laid the loue iuyce on some true loues sight:
Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue
Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true
   Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth,
A million faile, confounding oath on oath
   Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde,
And Helena of Athens looke thou finde.
All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere,
With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare.
By some illusion see thou bring her heere,
Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare
   Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,
Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe.
  Ob. Flower of this purple die,
Hit with Cupids archery,
Sinke in apple of his eye,
When his loue he doth espie,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.
When thou wak'st if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Pucke.
  Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,
Helena is heere at hand,
And the youth, mistooke by me,
Pleading for a Louers fee.
Shall we their fond Pageant see?
Lord, what fooles these mortals be!
  Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make,
Will cause Demetrius to awake
   Puck. Then will two at once wooe one,
That must needs be sport alone:
And those things doe best please me,
That befall preposterously.
Enter Lysander and Helena.
  Lys. Why should you think y I should wooe in scorn?
Scorne and derision neuer comes in teares:
Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so borne,
In their natiuity all truth appeares.
How can these things in me, seeme scorne to you?
Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true
   Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more,
When truth kils truth, O diuelish holy fray!
These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh.
Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two scales)
Will euen weigh, and both as light as tales
   Lys. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore
   Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore
   Lys. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you.
  Dem. O Helen, goddesse, nimph, perfect, diuine,
To what, my loue, shall I compare thine eyne!
Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show,
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow,
When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisse
This Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse
   Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bent
To set against me, for your merriment:
If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie,
You would not doe me thus much iniury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,
But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to?
If you are men, as men you are in show,
You would not vse a gentle Lady so;
To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;
And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.
A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,
To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes,
With your derision; none of noble sort,
Would so offend a Virgin, and extort
A poore soules patience, all to make you sport,
  Lysa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not so,
For you loue Hermia; this you know I know;
And here with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part;
And yours of Helena, To me bequeath,
Whom I do loue, and will do to my death
   Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth
   Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none:
If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone.
My heart to her, but as guest-wise soiourn'd,
And now to Helen it is home return'd,
There to remaine
   Lys. It is not so
   De. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest to thy perill thou abide it deare.
Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare.
Enter Hermia.
  Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The eare more quicke of apprehension makes,
Wherein it doth impaire the seeing sense,
It paies the hearing double recompence.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found,
Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that sound.
But why vnkindly didst thou leaue me so?
  Lysan. Why should hee stay whom Loue doth presse to go?
  Her. What loue could presse Lysander from my side?
  Lys. Lysanders loue (that would not let him bide)
Faire Helena; who more engilds the night,
Then all yon fierie oes, and eies of light.
Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know,
The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so?
  Her. You speake not as you thinke; it cannot be
   Hel. Loe, she is one of this confederacy,
Now I perceiue they haue conioyn'd all three,
To fashion this false sport in spight of me.
Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid,
Haue you conspir'd, haue you with these contriu'd
To baite me, with this foule derision?
Is all the counsell that we two haue shar'd,
The sisters vowes, the houres that we haue spent,
When wee haue chid the hasty footed time,
For parting vs; O, is all forgot?
All schooledaies friendship, child-hood innocence?
We Hermia, like two Artificiall gods,
Haue with our needles, created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key:
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindes
Had beene incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet a vnion in partition,
Two louely berries molded on one stem,
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,
Two of the first life coats in Heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient loue asunder,
To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.
Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone doe feele the iniurie
   Her. I am amazed at your passionate words,
I scorne you not; It seemes that you scorne me
   Hel. Haue you not set Lysander, as in scorne
To follow me, and praise my eies and face?
And made your other loue, Demetrius
(Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote)
To call me goddesse, nimph, diuine, and rare,
Precious, celestiall? Wherefore speakes he this
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
Denie your loue (so rich within his soule)
And tender me (forsooth) affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate?
(But miserable most, to loue vnlou'd)
This you should pittie, rather then despise
   Her. I vnderstand not what you meane by this
   Hel. I, doe, perseuer, counterfeit sad lookes,
Make mouthes vpon me when I turne my backe,
Winke each at other, hold the sweete iest vp:
This sport well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument:
But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault,
Which death or absence soone shall remedie
   Lys. Stay gentle Helena, heare my excuse,
My loue, my life, my soule, faire Helena
   Hel. O excellent!
  Her. Sweete, do not scorne her so
   Dem. If she cannot entreate, I can compell
   Lys. Thou canst compell, no more then she entreate.
Thy threats haue no more strength then her weak praise.
Helen, I loue thee, by my life I doe;
I sweare by that which I will lose for thee,
To proue him false, that saies I loue thee not
   Dem. I say, I loue thee more then he can do
   Lys. If thou say so, withdraw and proue it too
   Dem. Quick, come
   Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this?
  Lys. Away, you Ethiope
   Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose;
Take on as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go
   Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent
   Her. Why are you growne so rude?
What change is this sweete Loue?
  Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out;
Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence
   Her. Do you not iest?
  Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you
   Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee
   Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiue
A weake bond holds you; Ile not trust your word
   Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, Ile not harme her so
   Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate?
Hate me, wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue?
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
I am as faire now, as I was ere while.
Since night you lou'd me: yet since night you left me.
Why then you left me (O the gods forbid)
In earnest, shall I say?
  Lys. I, by my life;
And neuer did desire to see thee more.
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest,
That I do hate thee, and loue Helena
   Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome,
You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night,
And stolne my loues heart from him?
  Hel. Fine yfaith:
Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teare
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you
   Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game.
Now I perceiue that she hath made compare
Betweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height,
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height (forsooth) she hath preuail'd with him.
And are you growne so high in his esteeme,
Because I am so dwarfish, and so low?
How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake,
How low am I? I am not yet so low,
But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes
   Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen,
Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curst:
I haue no gift at all in shrewishnesse;
I am a right maide for my cowardize;
Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke,
Because she is something lower then my selfe,
That I can match her
   Her. Lower? harke againe
   Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me,
I euermore did loue you Hermia,
Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you,
Saue that in loue vnto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth vnto this wood.
He followed you, for loue I followed him,
But he hath chid me hence, and threatned me
To strike me, spurne me, nay to kill me too;
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I beare my folly backe,
And follow you no further. Let me go.
You see how simple, and how fond I am
   Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you?
  Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde
   Her. What, with Lysander?
  Her. With Demetrius
   Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena
   Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part
   Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd,
She was a vixen when she went to schoole,
And though she be but little, she is fierce
   Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little?
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her
   Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe,
You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made,
You bead, you acorne
   Dem. You are too officious,
In her behalfe that scornes your seruices.
Let her alone, speake not of Helena,
Take not her part. For if thou dost intend
Neuer so little shew of loue to her,
Thou shalt abide it
   Lys. Now she holds me not,
Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine is most in Helena
   Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by
Exit Lysander and Demetrius.
  Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you.
Nay, goe not backe
   Hel. I will not trust you I,
Nor longer stay in your curst companie.
Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though to runne away.
Enter Oberon and Pucke.
  Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st,
Or else committ'st thy knaueries willingly
   Puck. Beleeue me, King of shadowes, I mistooke,
Did not you tell me, I should know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on?
And so farre blamelesse proues my enterprize,
That I haue nointed an Athenians eies,
And so farre am I glad, it so did sort,
As this their iangling I esteeme a sport
   Ob. Thou seest these Louers seeke a place to fight,
Hie therefore Robin, ouercast the night,
The starrie Welkin couer thou anon,
With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron,
And lead these testie Riuals so astray,
As one come not within anothers way.
Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong;
And sometime raile thou like Demetrius;
And from each other looke thou leade them thus,
Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, sleepe
With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth creepe:
Then crush this hearbe into Lysanders eie,
Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie,
To take from thence all error, with his might,
and make his eie-bals role with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seeme a dreame, and fruitless vision,
And backe to Athens shall the Louers wend
With league, whose date till death shall neuer end.
Whiles I in this affaire do thee imploy,
Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy;
And then I will her charmed eie release
From monsters view, and all things shall be peace
   Puck. My Fairie Lord, this must be done with haste,
For night-swift Dragons cut the Clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Auroras harbinger;
At whose approach Ghosts wandring here and there,
Troope home to Church-yards; damned spirits all,
That in crosse-waies and flouds haue buriall,
Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone;
For feare least day should looke their shames vpon,
They wilfully themselues exile from light,
And must for aye consort with blacke browd night
   Ob. But we are spirits of another sort:
I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport,
And like a Forrester, the groues may tread,
Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red,
Opening on Neptune, With faire blessed beames,
Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames.
But not withstanding haste, make no delay:
We may effect this businesse, yet ere day
   Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade
them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne.
Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one.
Enter Lysander.
  Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius?
Speake thou now
   Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou?
  Lys. I will be with thee straight
   Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground.
Enter Demetrius.
  Dem. Lysander, speake againe;
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speake in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head?
  Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe,
Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd
That drawes a sword on thee
   Dem. Yea, art thou there?
  Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here.
  Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on,
When I come where he cals, then he's gone.
The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I:
I followed fast, but faster he did flye;
shifting places.
That fallen am I in darke vneuen way,
And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day:
For if but once thou shew me thy gray light,
Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight.
Enter Robin and Demetrius.
  Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not?
  Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot,
Thou runst before me, shifting euery place,
And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face.
Where art thou?
  Rob. Come hither, I am here
   Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this
If euer I thy face by day-light see.
Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me,
To measure out my length on this cold bed,
By daies approach looke to be visited.
Enter Helena.
  Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East,
That I may backe to Athens by day-light,
From these that my poore companie detest;
And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie,
Steale me a while from mine owne companie.
  Rob. Yet but three? Come one more,
Two of both kindes makes vp foure.
Here she comes, curst and sad,
Cupid is a knauish lad,
Enter Hermia.
Thus to make poore females mad
   Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars,
I can no further crawle, no further goe;
My legs can keepe no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the breake of day,
Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray
   Rob. On the ground sleepe sound,
Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy.
When thou wak'st, thou tak'st
True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye,
And the Country Prouerb knowne,
That euery man should take his owne,
In your waking shall be showne.
Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill.
The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee
They sleepe all the Act.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King
  Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed,
While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy,
And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head,
And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy
   Clow. Where's Peaseblossome?
  Peas. Ready
   Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer
   Cob. Ready
   Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your
weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee,
on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee
the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the
action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the
hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne
with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur
Mustardseed?
  Mus. Ready
   Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed.
Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur
   Mus. What's your will?
  Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery
Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for
me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I
am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must
   Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet
   Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let
vs haue the tongs and the bones.
Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.
  Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat
   Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch
your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire
to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fellow
   Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy,
That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard,
And fetch thee new Nuts
   Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried
pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I
haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me
   Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms,
Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away.
So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle,
Gently entwist; the female Iuy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme.
O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee!
Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.
  Ob. Welcome good Robin:
Seest thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty.
For meeting her of late behinde the wood,
Seeking sweet sauours for this hatefull foole,
I did vpbraid her, and fall out with her.
For she his hairy temples then had rounded,
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers.
And that same dew which somtime on the buds,
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearles;
Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes,
Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
And she in milde termes beg'd my patience,
I then did aske of her, her changeling childe,
Which straight she gaue me, and her fairy sent
To beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land.
And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe
This hatefull imperfection of her eyes.
And gentle Pucke, take this transformed scalpe,
From off the head of this Athenian swaine;
That he awaking when the other doe,
May all to Athens backe againe repaire,
And thinke no more of this nights accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of dreame.
But first I will release the Fairy Queene.
Be thou as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see.
Dians bud, or Cupids flower,
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene
   Tita. My Oberon, what visions haue I seene!
Me-thought I was enamoured of an asse
   Ob. There lies your loue
   Tita. How came these things to passe?
Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now!
  Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head:
Titania, musick call, and strike more dead
Then common sleepe; of all these, fine the sense
   Tita. Musicke, ho musicke, such as charmeth sleepe.
Musick still.
  Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eies
   Ob. Sound musick; come my Queen, take hands with me
And rocke the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I new in amity,
And will to morrow midnight, solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus house triumphantly,
And blesse it to all faire posterity.
There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in iollity
   Rob. Faire King attend, and marke,
I doe heare the morning Larke,
  Ob. Then my Queene in silence sad,
Trip we after the nights shade;
We the Globe can compasse soone,
Swifter then the wandering Moone
   Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping heere was found,
Sleepers Lye still.
With these mortals on the ground.
Winde Hornes.
Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.
  Thes. Goe one of you, finde out the Forrester,
For now our obseruation is perform'd;
And since we haue the vaward of the day,
My Loue shall heare the musicke of my hounds.
Vncouple in the Westerne valley, let them goe;
Dispatch I say, and finde the Forrester.
We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountains top,
And marke the musicall confusion
Of hounds and eccho in coniunction
   Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once.
When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare
With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare
Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues,
The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere,
Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard
So musicall a discord, such sweet thunder
   Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde,
So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung
With eares that sweepe away the morning dew,
Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls,
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels,
Each vnder each. A cry more tuneable
Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne,
In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly;
Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these?
  Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe,
And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,
This Helena, olde Nedars Helena,
I wonder of this being heere together
   The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserue
The right of May; and hearing our intent,
Came heere in grace of our solemnity.
But speake Egeus, is not this the day
That Hermia should giue answer of her choice?
  Egeus. It is, my Lord
   Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their
Hornes and they wake.
Shout within, they all start vp.
  Thes. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is past,
Begin these wood birds but to couple now?
  Lys. Pardon my Lord
   Thes. I pray you all stand vp.
I know you two are Riuall enemies.
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so farre from iealousie,
To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity
   Lys. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Halfe sleepe, halfe waking. but as yet, I sweare,
I cannot truly say how I came heere.
But as I thinke (for truly would I speake)
And now I doe bethinke me, so it is;
I came with Hermia hither. Our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the perill of the Athenian Law
   Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough;
I beg the Law, the Law, vpon his head:
They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius,
Thereby to haue defeated you and me:
You of your wife, and me of my consent;
Of my consent, that she should be your wife
   Dem. My Lord, faire Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,
And I in furie hither followed them;
Faire Helena, in fancy followed me.
But my good Lord, I wot not by what not by what power,
(But by some power it is) my loue
To Hermia (melted as the snow)
Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude,
Which in my childehood I did doat vpon:
And all the faith, the vertue of my heart,
The obiect and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord,
Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia,
But like a sickenesse did I loath this food,
But as in health, come to my naturall taste,
Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it,
And will for euermore be true to it
   Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met;
Of this discourse we shall heare more anon.
Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will;
For in the Temple, by and by with vs,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And for the morning now is something worne,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.
Away, with vs to Athens; three and three,
Wee'll hold a feast in great solemnitie.
Come Hippolita.
Exit Duke and Lords.
  Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable,
Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds
   Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye,
When euery thing seemes double
   Hel. So me-thinkes:
And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell,
Mine owne, and not mine owne
   Dem. It seemes to mee,
That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke,
The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him?
  Her. Yea, and my Father
   Hel. And Hippolita
   Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple
   Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and
by the way let vs recount our dreames.
Bottome wakes.
Exit Louers.
  Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer.
My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince?
Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starueling?
Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I
haue had a most rare vision. I had a dreame, past the wit
of man, to say, what dreame it was. Man is but an Asse,
if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I
was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was,
and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole,
if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of
man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans
hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceiue, nor his
heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter
Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be called
Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will
sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peraduenture,
to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it
at her death.
Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling.
  Quin. Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come
  Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is
   This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes
not forward, doth it?
  Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in all
Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he
   This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handycraft
man in Athens
   Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very
Paramour, for a sweet voyce
   This. You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God
blesse vs) a thing of nought.
Enter Snug the Ioyner.
  Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple,
and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married.
If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made
   This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixepence
a day, during his life; he could not haue scaped sixpence
a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence
a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue
deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing.
Enter Bottome.
  Bot. Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts?
  Quin. Bottome, o most couragious day! O most happie
  Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me
not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I
will tell you euery thing as it fell out
   Qu. Let vs heare, sweet Bottome
   Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that
the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good
strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps,
meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his
part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred:
In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him
that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang
out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate
no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete
breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a
sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.
  Hip. 'Tis strange my Theseus, y these louers speake of
   The. More strange then true. I neuer may beleeue
These anticke fables, nor these Fairy toyes,
Louers and mad men haue such seething braines,
Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend more
Then coole reason euer comprehends.
The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet,
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold;
That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke,
Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt.
The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance
From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen.
And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things
Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes,
And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation,
And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some ioy,
It comprehends some bringer of that ioy.
Or in the night, imagining some feare,
Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare?
  Hip. But all the storie of the night told ouer,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancies images,
And growes to something of great constancie;
But howsoeuer, strange, and admirable.
Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
  The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth:
Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayes
Of loue accompany your hearts
   Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes,
your boord, your bed
   The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shall
To weare away this long age of three houres,
Between our after supper, and bed-time?
Where is our vsuall manager of mirth?
What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing houre?
   Ege. Heere mighty Theseus
   The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening?
What maske? What musicke? How shall we beguile
The lazie time, if not with some delight?
  Ege. There is a breefe how many sports are rife:
Make choise of which your Highnesse will see first
   Lis. The battell with the Centaurs to be sung
By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe
   The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue
In glory of my kinsman Hercules
   Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage?
  The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaid
When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror
   Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death
of learning, late deceast in beggerie
   The. That is some Satire keene and criticall,
Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie
   Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus,
And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth
   The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That
is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall wee
finde the concord of this discord?
  Ege. A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long,
Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne a play;
But by ten words, my Lord, it is too long;
Which makes it tedious. For in all the play,
There is not one word apt, one Player fitted.
And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for Piramus
Therein doth kill himselfe. Which when I saw
Rehearst, I must confesse, made mine eyes water:
But more merrie teares, the passion of loud laughter
   Thes. What are they that do play it?
  Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere,
Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now;
And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories
With this same play, against your nuptiall
   The. And we will heare it
   Hip. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard
It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Vnless you can finde sport in their intents,
Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine,
To doe you seruice
   Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing
Can be amisse, when simplenesse and duty tender it.
Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies
   Hip. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged;
And duty in his seruice perishing
   Thes. Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing
   Hip. He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde
   Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake;
And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed
To greete me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares,
And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete,
Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome:
And in the modesty of fearefull duty,
I read as much, as from the ratling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity,
In least, speake most, to my capacity
   Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest
   Duke. Let him approach.
Enter the Prologue. Quince.
  Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should thinke, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despight.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight,
We are not heere. That you should here repent you,
The Actors are at hand; and by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know
   Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points
   Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he
knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not
enough to speake, but to speake true
   Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a
childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment
   Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.
Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.
  Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.
This man is Piramus, if you would know;
This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.
This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder:
And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content
To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.
This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne,
Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know,
By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne
To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:
This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name)
The trusty Thisby, comming first by night,
Did scarre away, or rather did affright:
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine.
Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall,
And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade,
He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast,
And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine,
At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.
Exit all but Wall.
  Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake
   Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when
many Asses doe.
Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.
  Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:
And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke,
That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie
Did whisper often, very secretly.
This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew,
That I am that same Wall; the truth is so.
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper
   Thes. Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake
  Deme. It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard
discourse, my Lord
   Thes. Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence.
Enter Pyramus.
  Pir. O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke,
O night, which euer art, when day is not:
O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke,
I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.
And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall,
That stands between her fathers ground and mine,
Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall,
Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine.
Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this.
But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse,
Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee
   Thes. The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should
curse againe
   Pir. No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me,
Is Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy
Her through the wall. You shall see it will fall.
Enter Thisbie.
Pat as I told you; yonder she comes
   This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones,
For parting my faire Piramus, and me
My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones;
Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee
   Pyra. I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke,
To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?
  This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke
   Pir. Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace,
And like Limander am I trusty still
   This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill
   Pir. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true
   This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you
   Pir. O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall
   This. I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all
   Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straight
  This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay
   Wall. Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so;
And being done, thus Wall away doth go.
  Du. Now is the morall downe between the two
   Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull,
to heare without warning
   Dut. This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard
   Du. The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the
worst are no worse, if imagination amend them
   Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs
   Duk. If wee imagine no worse of them then they of
themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com
two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion.
Enter Lyon and Moone-shine
   Lyon. You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feare
The smallest monstrous mouse that creepes on floore)
May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere,
When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare.
Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am
A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:
For if I should as Lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life
   Du. A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience
   Dem. The verie best at a beast, my Lord, y ere I saw
   Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor
   Du. True, and a Goose for his discretion
   Dem. Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie
his discretion, and the fox carries the Goose
   Du. His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor:
for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to
his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone
   Moone. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone present
   De. He should haue worne the hornes on his head
   Du. Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible,
within the circumference
   Moon. This lanthorne doth the horned Moone present:
My selfe, the man i'th Moone doth seeme to be
   Du. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man
Should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man
  Dem. He dares not come there for the candle.
For you see, it is already in snuffe
   Dut. I am wearie of this Moone; would he would
   Du. It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that
he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, we
must stay the time
   Lys. Proceed Moone
   Moon. All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the
Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this
thorne bush; my thorne bush; and this dog, my dog
   Dem. Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for
they are in the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby.
Enter Thisby.
  This. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue?
The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.
  Dem. Well roar'd Lion
   Du. Well run Thisby
   Dut. Well shone Moone.
Truly the Moone shines with a good grace
   Du. Wel mouz'd Lion
   Dem. And then came Piramus
   Lys. And so the Lion vanisht.
Enter Piramus.
  Pyr. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy sunny beames,
I thanke thee Moone, for shining now so bright:
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames,
I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight.
But stay: O spight! but marke, poore Knight,
What dreadful dole is heere?
Eyes do you see! How can it be!
O dainty Ducke: O Deere!
Thy mantle good; what staind with blood!
Approch you furies fell:
O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum,
Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell
   Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend,
Would go neere to make a man looke sad
   Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man
   Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame?
Since lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere:
Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame
That liu'd, that lou'd, that like'd, that look'd with cheere.
Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound
The pap of Piramus:
I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;
Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky,
Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight,
Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye
   Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one
   Lis. Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing
   Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer,
and proue an Asse
   Dut. How chance Moone-shine is gone before?
Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer.
Enter Thisby.
  Duke. She wil finde him by starre-light.
Heere she comes, and her passion ends the play
   Dut. Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for
such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe
   Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus
which Thisby is the better
   Lys. She hath spyed him already, with those sweete eyes
   Dem. And thus she meanes, videlicit
   This. Asleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue?
O Piramus arise:
Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe
Must couer thy sweet eyes.
These Lilly Lips, this cherry nose,
These yellow Cowslip cheekes
Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone:
His eyes were greene as Leekes.
O Sisters three, come, come to mee,
With hands as pale as Milke,
Lay them in gore, since you haue shore
with sheeres, his thred of silke.
Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword:
Come blade, my brest imbrue:
And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu
   Duk. Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead
   Deme. I, and Wall too
   Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted
their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or
to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company?
  Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs
no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all
dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that
writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies
garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is
truely, and very notably discharg'd. but come, your
Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue.
Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time.
I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne,
As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht.
This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd
The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity.
In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.
Enter Pucke.
  Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores,
And the Wolfe beholds the Moone:
Whilest the heauy ploughman snores,
All with weary taske fore-done.
Now the wasted brands doe glow,
Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shrowd.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graues, all gaping wide,
Euery one lets forth his spright,
In the Church-way paths to glide,
And we Fairies, that do runne,
By the triple Hecates teame,
From the presence of the Sunne,
Following darkenesse like a dreame,
Now are frollicke; not a Mouse
Shall disturbe this hallowed house.
I am sent with broome before,
To sweep the dust behinde the doore.
Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.
  Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsie fier,
Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright,
Hop as light as bird from brier,
And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie,
  Tita. First rehearse this song by roate,
To each word a warbling note.
Hand in hand, with Fairie grace,
Will we sing and blesse this place.
Now vntill the breake of day,
Through this house each Fairy stray.
To the best Bride-bed will we,
Which by vs shall blessed be:
And the issue there create,
Euer shall be fortunate:
So shall all the couples three,
Euer true in louing be:
And the blots of Natures hand,
Shall not in their issue stand.
Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre,
nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in Natiuitie,
Shall vpon their children be.
With this field dew consecrate,
Euery Fairy take his gate,
And each seuerall chamber blesse,
Through this Pallace with sweet peace,
Euer shall in safety rest.
And the owner of it blest.
Trip away, make no stay;
Meet me all by breake of day
   Robin. If we shadowes haue offended,
Thinke but this (and all is mended)
That you haue but slumbred heere,
While these Visions did appeare.
And this weake and idle theame,
No more yeelding but a dreame,
Gentles, doe not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And as I am an honest Pucke,
If we haue vnearned lucke,
Now to scape the Serpents tongue,
We will make amends ere long:
Else the Pucke a lyar call.
So good night vnto you all.
Giue me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
FINIS. A MIDSOMMER Nights Dreame.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Merchant of Venice
Actus primus.
Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.
  Anthonio. In sooth I know not why I am so sad,
It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of
That I haue much ado to know my selfe
   Sal. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean,
There where your Argosies with portly saile
Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood,
Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,
Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers
That curtsie to them, do them reuerence
As they flye by them with their wouen wings
   Salar. Beleeue me sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections, would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grasse to know where sits the winde,
Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:
And euery obiect that might make me feare
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad
   Sal. My winde cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought
What harme a winde too great might doe at sea.
I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne,
But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,
Vailing her high top lower then her ribs
To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle Vessels side
Would scatter all her spices on the streame,
Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes,
And in a word, but euen now worth this,
And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought
To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought
That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad?
But tell me, I know Anthonio
Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize
   Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad
   Sola. Why then you are in loue
   Anth. Fie, fie
   Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie
For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time:
Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes,
And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.
And other of such vineger aspect,
That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.
  Sola. Heere comes Bassanio,
Your most noble Kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell,
We leaue you now with better company
   Sala. I would haue staid till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not preuented me
   Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard.
I take it your owne busines calls on you,
And you embrace th' occasion to depart
   Sal. Good morrow my good Lords
   Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
  Sal. Wee'll make our leysures to attend on yours.
Exeunt. Salarino, and Solanio.
  Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you haue found Anthonio
We two will leaue you, but at dinner time
I pray you haue in minde where we must meete
   Bass. I will not faile you
   Grat. You looke not well signior Anthonio,
You haue too much respect vpon the world:
They loose it that doe buy it with much care,
Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd
   Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
A stage, where euery man must play a part,
And mine a sad one
   Grati. Let me play the foole,
With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,
Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?
Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies
By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,
As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.
O my Anthonio, I do know of these
That therefore onely are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; when I am verie sure
If they should speake, would almost dam those eares
Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles:
Ile tell thee more of this another time.
But fish not with this melancholly baite
For this foole Gudgin, this opinion:
Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while,
Ile end my exhortation after dinner
   Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.
I must be one of these same dumbe wise men.
For Gratiano neuer let's me speake
   Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue
   Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare
   Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable
In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible.
  Ant. It is that any thing now
   Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing,
more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two
graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall
seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them
they are not worth the search
   An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage
That you to day promis'd to tel me of?
  Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio
How much I haue disabled mine estate,
By something shewing a more swelling port
Then my faint meanes would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care
Is to come fairely off from the great debts
Wherein my time something too prodigall
Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio
I owe the most in money, and in loue,
And from your loue I haue a warrantie
To vnburthen all my plots and purposes,
How to get cleere of all the debts I owe
   An. I pray you good Bassanio let me know it,
And if it stand as you your selfe still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd
My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes
Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions
   Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft
I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight
The selfesame way, with more aduised watch
To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both,
I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe,
Because what followes is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,
That which I owe is lost: but if you please
To shoote another arrow that selfe way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both,
Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,
And thankfully rest debter for the first
   An. You know me well, and herein spend but time
To winde about my loue with circumstance,
And out of doubt you doe more wrong
In making question of my vttermost
Then if you had made waste of all I haue:
Then doe but say to me what I should doe
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake
   Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left,
And she is faire, and fairer then that word,
Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes
I did receiue faire speechlesse messages:
Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia,
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the four windes blow in from euery coast
Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond,
And many Iasons come in quest of her.
O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes
To hold a riuall place with one of them,
I haue a minde presages me such thrift,
That I should questionlesse be fortunate
   Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea,
Neither haue I money, nor commodity
To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth
Try what my credit can in Venice doe,
That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia.
Goe presently enquire, and so will I
Where money is, and I no question make
To haue it of my trust, or for my sake.
Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa.
  Portia. By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie
of this great world
   Ner. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries
were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are:
and yet for ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with
too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no smal
happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, superfluitie
comes sooner by white haires, but competencie
liues longer
   Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd
   Ner. They would be better if well followed
   Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were
good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore
mens cottages Princes Pallaces: it is a good Diuine that
followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie
what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie
to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise
lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a
colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip
ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this
reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee,
the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would,
nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daughter
curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Nerrissa,
that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none
   Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men
at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lotterie
that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold,
siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning,
chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightly,
but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth
is there in your affection towards any of these Princely
suters that are already come?
  Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest
them, I will describe them, and according to my description
leuell at my affection
   Ner. First there is the Neopolitane Prince
   Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but
talke of his horse, and hee makes it a great appropriation
to his owne good parts that he can shoo him himselfe:
I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid false
with a Smyth
   Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine
   Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should
say, and you will not haue me, choose: he heares merrie
tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping
Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of vnmannerly
sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be married
to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to either
of these: God defend me from these two
   Ner. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier
  Por. God made him, and therefore let him passe for a
man, in truth I know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he,
why he hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a better
bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he
is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals straight
a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should
marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee
would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me
to madnesse, I should neuer requite him
   Ner. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the yong
Baron of England?
  Por. You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnderstands
not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French,
nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & sweare
that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a
proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a
dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought
his doublet in Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet
in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where
   Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neighbour?
  Por. That he hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for
he borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and
swore he would pay him againe when hee was able: I
thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder
   Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of
Saxonies Nephew?
  Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober,
and most vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke:
when he is best, he is a little worse then a man, and when
he is worst, he is little better then a beast: and the worst
fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without
   Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right
Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will,
if you should refuse to accept him
   Por. Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set
a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket,
for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without,
I know he will choose it. I will doe any thing Nerrissa
ere I will be married to a spunge
   Ner. You neede not feare Lady the hauing any of
these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations,
which is indeede to returne to their home,
and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse you may
be won by some other sort then your Fathers imposition,
depending on the Caskets
   Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as
chaste as Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner
of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers
are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but
I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire departure
   Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fathers
time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that
came hither in companie of the Marquesse of Mountferrat?
  Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke, so was hee
   Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my
foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire
   Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy
of thy praise.
Enter a Seruingman.
  Ser. The four Strangers seeke you Madam to take
their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift,
the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his
Maister will be here to night
   Por. If I could bid the fift welcome with so good
heart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should be
glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint,
and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee should
shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before;
whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another
knocks at the doore.
Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew.
  Shy. Three thousand ducates, well
   Bass. I sir, for three months
   Shy. For three months, well
   Bass. For the which, as I told you,
Anthonio shall be bound
   Shy. Anthonio shall become bound, well
   Bass. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me?
Shall I know your answere
   Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months,
and Anthonio bound
   Bass. Your answere to that
   Shy. Anthonio is a good man
   Bass. Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary
   Shy. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a
good man, is to haue you vnderstand me that he is sufficient,
yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argosie
bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand
moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexico,
a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath
squandred abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but
men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues,
and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the
perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is not withstanding
sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may
take his bond
   Bas. Be assured you may
   Iew. I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured,
I will bethinke mee, may I speake with Anthonio?
  Bass. If it please you to dine with vs
   Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation
which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell
into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with
you, walke with you, and so following: but I will
not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you.
What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here?
Enter Anthonio.
  Bass. This is signior Anthonio
   Iew. How like a fawning publican he lookes.
I hate him for he is a Christian:
But more, for that in low simplicitie
He lends out money gratis, and brings downe
The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice.
If I can catch him once vpon the hip,
I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him.
He hates our sacred Nation, and he railes
Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate
On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift,
Which he cals interrest: Cursed by my Trybe
If I forgiue him
   Bass. Shylock, doe you heare
   Shy. I am debating of my present store,
And by the neere gesse of my memorie
I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse
Of full three thousand ducats: what of that?
Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe
Will furnish me: but soft, how many months
Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior,
Your worship was the last man in our mouthes
   Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow
By taking, nor by giuing of excesse,
Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
Ile breake a custome: is he yet possest
How much he would?
  Shy. I, I, three thousand ducats
   Ant. And for three months
   Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so.
Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you,
Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow
Vpon aduantage
   Ant. I doe neuer vse it
   Shy. When Iacob graz'd his vncle Labans sheepe,
This Iacob from our holy Abram was
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe)
The third possesser; I, he was the third
   Ant. And what of him, did he take interrest?
  Shy. No, not take interest, not as you would say
Directly interest, marke what Iacob did,
When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd
That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied
Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke,
In end of Autumne turned to the Rammes,
And when the worke of generation was
Betweene these woolly breeders in the act,
The skilfull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands,
And in the dooing of the deede of kinde,
He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes,
Who then conceauing, did in eaning time
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs.
This was a way to thriue, and he was blest:
And thrift is blessing if men steale it not
   Ant. This was a venture sir that Iacob seru'd for,
A thing not in his power to bring to passe,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen.
Was this inserted to make interrest good?
Or is your gold and siluer Ewes and Rams?
  Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast,
But note me signior
   Ant. Marke you this Bassanio,
The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose,
An euill soule producing holy witnesse,
Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
O what a goodly outside falsehood hath
   Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum.
Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate
   Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?
  Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft
In the Ryalto you haue rated me
About my monies and my vsances:
Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug,
(For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.)
You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog,
And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine,
And all for vse of that which is mine owne.
Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe:
Goe to then, you come to me, and you say,
Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you say so:
You that did voide your rume vpon my beard,
And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre
Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your suite.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or
Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key
With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse,
Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You cald me dog: and for these curtesies
Ile lend you thus much moneyes
   Ant. I am as like to call thee so againe,
To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends, for when did friendship take
A breede of barraine mettall of his friend?
But lend it rather to thine enemie,
Who if he breake, thou maist with better face
Exact the penalties
   Shy. Why looke you how you storme,
I would be friends with you, and haue your loue,
Forget the shames that you haue staind me with,
Supplie your present wants, and take no doite
Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me,
This is kinde I offer
   Bass. This were kindnesse
   Shy. This kindnesse will I showe,
Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there
Your single bond, and in a merrie sport
If you repaie me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite
Be nominated for an equall pound
Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your bodie it pleaseth me
   Ant. Content infaith, Ile seale to such a bond,
And say there is much kindnesse in the Iew
   Bass. You shall not seale to such a bond for me,
Ile rather dwell in my necessitie
   Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it,
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I doe expect returne
Of thrice three times the valew of this bond
   Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are,
Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this,
If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of mans flesh taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither
As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say
To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship,
If he will take it, so: if not adiew,
And for my loue I praie you wrong me not
   Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond
   Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries,
Giue him direction for this merrie bond,
And I will goe and purse the ducats straite.
See to my house left in the fearefull gard
Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie
Ile be with you.
  Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne
Christian, he growes kinde
   Bass. I like not faire tearmes, and a villaines minde
   Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie,
My Shippes come home a month before the daie.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure
accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets.
  Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne,
To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.
Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne,
Where Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles,
And let vs make incision for your loue,
To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine
Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare)
The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme
Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue,
Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene
   Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led
By nice direction of a maidens eies:
Besides, the lottrie of my destenie
Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing:
But if my Father had not scanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe
His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you,
Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire
As any commer I haue look'd on yet
For my affection
   Mor. Euen for that I thanke you,
Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets
To trie my fortune: By this Symitare
That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke:
Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth:
Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare,
Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray
To win the Ladie. But alas, the while
If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turne by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his rage,
And so may I, blinde fortune leading me
Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine,
And die with grieuing
   Port. You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong
Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward
In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd
   Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance
   Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner
Your hazard shall be made
   Mor. Good fortune then,
To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
Enter the Clowne alone.
  Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run
from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow,
and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good
Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse
your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies
no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe,
or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne,
scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious
fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies
the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies
the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about
the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest
friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather
an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did
something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of
taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge
saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience
say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well,
to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew
my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell;
and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by
the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe:
certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation,
and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard
conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew;
the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne
fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will
Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.
  Gob. Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the
waie to Maister Iewes?
  Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who
being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows
me not, I will trie confusions with him
   Gob. Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is
the waie to Maister Iewes
   Laun. Turne vpon your right hand at the next turning,
but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie
at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down
indirectlie to the Iewes house
   Gob. Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can
you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him
dwell with him or no
   Laun. Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke
me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong
Maister Launcelet?
  Gob. No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Father
though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man,
and God be thanked well to liue
   Lan. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of
yong Maister Launcelet
   Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet
   Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you,
talke you of yong Maister Launcelet
   Gob. Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership
   Lan. Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet
Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and
destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such
branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you
would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen
   Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe
of my age, my verie prop
   Lau. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe
or a prop: doe you know me Father
   Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman,
but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule
aliue or dead
   Lan. Doe you not know me Father
   Gob. Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not
   Lan. Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might
faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes
his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of
your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light,
murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the
end truth will out
   Gob. Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not
Lancelet my boy
   Lan. Praie you let's haue no more fooling about
it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your
boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that
   Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne
   Lan. I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am
Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife
is my mother
   Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if
thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood:
Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got;
thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my
philhorse has on his taile
   Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile
growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his
taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him
   Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou
and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how
gree you now?
  Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set
vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run
some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present,
giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You
may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am
glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister
Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue
not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare
fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a
Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer.
Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.
  Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that
supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke:
see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to making,
and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging
   Lan. To him Father
   Gob. God blesse your worship
   Bass. Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me
   Gob. Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy
   Lan. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that
would sir as my Father shall specifie
   Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say
   Lan. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the
Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie
   Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence)
are scarce catercosins
   Lan. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew
hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father being
I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you
   Gob. I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow
vpon your worship, and my suite is
   Lan. In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my
selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man,
and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my
   Bass. One speake for both, what would you?
  Lan. Serue you sir
   Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter sir
   Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite,
Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie,
And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment
To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become
The follower of so poore a Gentleman
   Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene
my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of
God sir, and he hath enough
   Bass. Thou speak'st well; go Father with thy Son,
Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire
My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie
More garded then his fellowes: see it done
   Clo. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere
a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a
fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I
shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line
of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues
is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple
comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning
thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge
of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune
be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father
come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.
Exit Clowne.
  Bass. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this,
These things being bought and orderly bestowed
Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night
My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe
   Leon. my best endeuors shall be done herein.
Enter Gratiano.
  Gra. Where's your Maister
   Leon. Yonder sir he walkes
   Gra. Signior Bassanio
   Bas. Gratiano
   Gra. I haue a sute to you
   Bass. You haue obtain'd it
   Gra. You must not denie me, I must goe with you to
   Bass. Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano,
Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce,
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults;
But where they are not knowne, why there they show
Something too liberall, pray thee take paine
To allay with some cold drops of modestie
Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour
I be misconsterd in the place I goe to,
And loose my hopes
   Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me,
If I doe not put on a sober habite,
Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than,
Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen:
Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more
   Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing
   Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me
By what we doe to night
   Bas. No that were pittie,
I would intreate you rather to put on
Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends
That purpose merriment: but far you well,
I haue some businesse
   Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest,
But we will visite you at supper time.
Enter Iessica and the Clowne.
  Ies. I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so,
Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell
Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse;
But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,
And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest,
Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly,
And so farewell: I would not haue my Father
see me talke with thee
   Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull
Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the
knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these
foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit:
  Ies. Farewell good Lancelet.
Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me
To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe,
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian, and thy louing wife.
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.
  Lor. Nay, we will slinke away in supper time,
Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre
   Gra. We haue not made good preparation
   Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers
   Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered,
And better in my minde not vndertooke
   Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres
To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes.
Enter Lancelet with a Letter.
  Lan. And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it
seeme to signifie
   Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand
And whiter then the paper it writ on,
Is the faire hand that writ
   Gra. Loue newes in faith
   Lan. By your leaue sir
   Lor. Whither goest thou?
  Lan. Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup
to night with my new Master the Christian
   Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica
I will not faile her, speake it priuately:
Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to
I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.
Exit. Clowne
   Sal. I marry, ile be gone about it strait
   Sol. And so will I
   Lor. Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging
Some houre hence
   Sal. 'Tis good we do so.
  Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica?
  Lor. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed
How I shall take her from her Fathers house,
What gold and iewels she is furnisht with,
What Pages suite she hath in readinesse:
If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen,
It will be for his gentle daughters sake;
And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote,
Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew:
Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest,
Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer.
Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.
  Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge,
The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;
What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize
As thou hast done with me: what Iessica?
And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out.
Why Iessica I say
   Clo. Why Iessica
   Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call
   Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me
I could doe nothing without bidding.
Enter Iessica.
  Ies. Call you? what is your will?
  Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica,
There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for loue, they flatter me,
But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon
The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle,
Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe,
There is some ill a bruing towards my rest,
For I did dreame of money bags to night
   Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master
Doth expect your reproach
   Shy. So doe I his
   Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say
you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for
nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday
last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on
ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone
   Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica,
Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife,
Clamber not you vp to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the publique streete
To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces:
But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements,
Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter
My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare,
I haue no minde of feasting forth to night:
But I will goe: goe you before me sirra,
Say I will come
   Clo. I will goe before sir,
Mistris looke out at window for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Iewes eye
   Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring?
   Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else
   Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder:
Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day
More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me,
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would haue him helpe to waste
His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,
Perhaps I will returne immediately;
Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast
A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde.
  Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,
I haue a Father, you a daughter lost.
Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.
  Gra. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo
Desired vs to make a stand
   Sal. His houre is almost past
   Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre,
For louers euer run before the clocke
   Sal. O ten times faster Venus Pidgions flye
To steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont
To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited
   Gra. That euer holds, who riseth from a feast
With that keene appetite that he sits downe?
Where is the horse that doth vntread againe
His tedious measures with the vnbated fire,
That he did pace them first: all things that are,
Are with more spirit chased then enioy'd.
How like a yonger or a prodigall
The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay,
Hudg'd and embraced by the strumpet winde:
How like a prodigall doth she returne
With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes,
Leane, rent, and begger'd by the strumpet winde?
Enter Lorenzo.
  Salino. Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter
   Lor. Sweete friends, your patience for my long abode,
Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait;
When you shall please to play the theeues for wiues
Ile watch as long for you then: approach
Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?
Iessica aboue.
  Iess. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit Ile sweare that I do know your tongue
   Lor. Lorenzo, and thy Loue
   Ies. Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed,
For who loue I so much? and now who knowes
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
  Lor. Heauen and thy thoughts are witness that thou
   Ies. Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines,
I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me,
For I am much asham'd of my exchange:
But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselues commit,
For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy
   Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer
   Ies. What, must I hold a Candle to my shames?
They in themselues goodsooth are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue,
And I should be obscur'd
   Lor. So you are sweet,
Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once,
For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast
   Ies. I will make fast the doores and guild my selfe
With some more ducats, and be with you straight
   Gra. Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew
   Lor. Beshrew me but I loue her heartily.
For she is wise, if I can iudge of her.
And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true she is, as she hath prou'd her selfe:
And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soule.
Enter Iessica.
What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,
Our masking mates by this time for vs stay.
Enter Anthonio.
  Ant. Who's there?
  Gra. Signior Anthonio?
  Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?
'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all stay for you,
No maske to night, the winde is come about,
Bassanio presently will goe aboord,
I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you
   Gra. I am glad on't, I desire no more delight
Then to be vnder saile, and gone to night.
Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines.
  Por. Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and discouer
The seuerall Caskets to this noble Prince:
Now make your choyse
   Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares,
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what men desire.
The second siluer, which this promise carries,
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I doe choose the right?
How shall I know if I doe choose the right
   Por. The one of them containes my picture Prince,
If you choose that, then I am yours withall
   Mor. Some God direct my iudgement, let me see,
I will suruay the inscriptions, backe againe:
What saies this leaden casket?
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead?
This casket threatens men that hazard all
Doe it in hope of faire aduantages:
A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse,
Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead.
What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue?
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
As much as he deserues; pause there Morocho,
And weigh thy value with an euen hand,
If thou beest rated by thy estimation
Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough
May not extend so farre as to the Ladie:
And yet to be afeard of my deseruing,
Were but a weake disabling of my selfe.
As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady.
I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding:
But more then these, in loue I doe deserue.
What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying grau'd in gold.
Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire:
Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her:
From the foure corners of the earth they come
To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint.
The Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For Princes to come view faire Portia.
The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head
Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre
To stop the forraine spirits, but they come
As ore a brooke to see faire Portia.
One of these three containes her heauenly picture.
Is't like that Lead containes her? 'twere damnation
To thinke so base a thought, it were too grose
To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue:
Or shall I thinke in Siluer she's immur'd
Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold;
O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem
Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England
A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell
Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon:
But here an Angell in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliuer me the key:
Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may
   Por. There take it Prince, and if my forme lye there
Then I am yours
   Mor. O hell! what haue we here, a carrion death,
Within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule;
Ile reade the writing.
All that glisters is not gold,
Often haue you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold;
Guilded timber doe wormes infold:
Had you beene as wise as bold,
Yong in limbs, in iudgement old,
Your answere had not beene inscrold,
Fareyouwell, your suite is cold,
  Mor. Cold indeede, and labour lost,
Then farewell heate, and welcome frost:
Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart
To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part.
  Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtaines, go:
Let all of his complexion choose me so.
Enter Salarino and Solanio.
  Flo. Cornets
   Sal. Why man I saw Bassanio vnder sayle;
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not
   Sol. The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke.
Who went with him to search Bassanios ship
   Sal. He comes too late, the ship was vndersaile;
But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand
That in a Gondilo were seene together
Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica.
Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke
They were not with Bassanio in his ship
   Sol. I neuer heard a passion so confusd,
So strange, outragious, and so variable,
As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets;
My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter,
Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats!
Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter;
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter,
And iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolne by my daughter: iustice, finde the girle,
She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats
   Sal. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him,
Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats
   Sol. Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day
Or he shall pay for this
   Sal. Marry well remembred,
I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscaried
A vessell of our countrey richly fraught:
I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me,
And wisht in silence that it were not his
   Sol. You were best to tell Anthonio what you heare.
Yet doe not suddainely, for it may grieue him
   Sal. A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth,
I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part,
Bassanio told him he would make some speede
Of his returne: he answered, doe not so,
Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time,
And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your minde of loue:
Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such faire ostents of loue
As shall conueniently become you there;
And euen there his eye being big with teares,
Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him,
And with affection wondrous sencible
He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted
   Sol. I thinke he onely loues the world for him,
I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out
And quicken his embraced heauinesse
With some delight or other
   Sal. Doe we so.
Enter Nerrissa and a Seruiture.
  Ner. Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait,
The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia. Flor. Cornets.
  Por. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince,
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd:
But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately
   Ar. I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things;
First, neuer to vnfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile
Of the right casket, neuer in my life
To wooe a maide in way of marriage:
Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse,
Immediately to leaue you, and be gone
   Por. To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare
That comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe
   Ar. And so haue I addrest me, fortune now
To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead.
Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath.
You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.
What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see.
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire:
What many men desire, that many may be meant
By the foole multitude that choose by show,
Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,
Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Euen in the force and rode of casualtie.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not iumpe with common spirits,
And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house,
Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare;
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues:
And well said too; for who shall goe about
To cosen Fortune, and be honourable
Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume
To weare an vndeserued dignitie:
O that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour
Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer;
How many then should couer that stand bare?
How many be commanded that command?
How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seede of honor? And how much honor
Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,
To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise.
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues.
I will assume desert; giue me a key for this,
And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here
   Por. Too long a pause for that which you finde there
   Ar. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot
Presenting me a scedule, I will reade it:
How much vnlike art thou to Portia?
How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings?
Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues.
Did I deserue no more then a fooles head,
Is that my prize, are my deserts no better?
  Por. To offend and iudge are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures
   Ar. What is here?
The fier seauen times tried this,
Seauen times tried that iudgement is,
That did neuer choose amis,
Some there be that shadowes kisse,
Such haue but a shadowes blisse:
There be fooles aliue Iwis
Siluer'd o're, and so was this:
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will euer be your head:
So be gone, you are sped
   Ar. Still more foole I shall appeare
By the time I linger here,
With one fooles head I came to woo,
But I goe away with two.
Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath,
Patiently to beare my wroath
   Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moath:
O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose,
They haue the wisdome by their wit to loose
   Ner. The ancient saying is no heresie,
Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie
   Por. Come draw the curtaine Nerrissa.
Enter Messenger.
  Mes. Where is my Lady?
  Por. Here, what would my Lord?
  Mes. Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate
A yong Venetian, one that comes before
To signifie th' approaching of his Lord,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;
To wit (besides commends and curteous breath)
Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not seene
So likely an Embassador of loue.
A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete
To show how costly Sommer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord
   Por. No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard
Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him:
Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see
Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly
   Ner. Bassanio Lord, loue if thy will it be.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Solanio and Salarino.
  Sol. Now, what newes on the Ryalto?
  Sal. Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio
hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the
Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous
flat, and fatall, where the carcasses of many a tall ship, lye
buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman
   Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as euer
knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept
for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without
any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plaine high-way of
talke, that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio; o that
I had a title good enough to keepe his name company!
  Sal. Come, the full stop
   Sol. Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost
   Sal. I would it might proue the end of his losses
   Sol. Let me say Amen betimes, least the diuell crosse
my praier, for here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How
now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants?
Enter Shylocke.
  Shy. You knew none so well, none so well as you, of
my daughters flight
   Sal. That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor
that made the wings she flew withall
   Sol. And Shylocke for his owne part knew the bird was
fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them al to leaue
   Shy. She is damn'd for it
   Sal. That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Iudge
   Shy. My owne flesh and blood to rebell
   Sol. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres
   Shy. I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud
   Sal. There is more difference betweene thy flesh and
hers, then betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your
bloods, then there is betweene red wine and rennish: but
tell vs, doe you heare whether Anthonio haue had anie
losse at sea or no?
  Shy. There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a
prodigall, who dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto,
a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart:
let him look to his bond, he was wont to call me Vsurer,
let him looke to his bond, he was wont to lend money
for a Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond
   Sal. Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take
his flesh, what's that good for?
  Shy. To baite fish withall, if it will feede nothing
else, it will feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and
hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at
my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines,
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the
reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a
Iew hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, passions,
fed with the same foode, hurt with the same weapons,
subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same
meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and
Sommer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not
bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poison
vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not reuenge?
if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you
in that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility,
reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iew, what should his sufferance
be by Christian example, why reuenge? The villanie
you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard
but I will better the instruction.
Enter a man from Anthonio.
Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and
desires to speake with you both
   Sal. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him.
Enter Tuball.
  Sol. Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot
be matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.
Exeunt. Gentlemen
   Shy. How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa? hast
thou found my daughter?
  Tub. I often came where I did heare of her, but cannot
   Shy. Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone
cost me two thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse neuer
fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now,
two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious
iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot,
and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my
foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them,
why so? and I know not how much is spent in the search:
why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe gone with so
much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no satisfaction,
no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights
a my shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares
but a my shedding
   Tub. Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthonio as I
heard in Genowa?
  Shy. What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke
   Tub. Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis
   Shy. I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true?
  Tub. I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped
   Shy. I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good
newes: ha, ha, here in Genowa
   Tub. Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one
night fourescore ducats
   Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my
gold againe, fourescore ducats at a sitting, fourescore ducats
   Tub. There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my
company to Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but
   Shy. I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture
him, I am glad of it,
  Tub. One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of
your daughter for a Monkie
   Shy. Out vpon her, thou torturest me Tuball, it was
my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I
would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies
   Tub. But Anthonio is certainely vndone
   Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, see
me an Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will
haue the heart of him if he forfeit, for were he out of Venice,
I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball,
and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our
Sinagogue Tuball.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine.
  Por. I pray you tarrie, pause a day or two
Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong
I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while,
There's something tels me (but it is not loue)
I would not loose you, and you know your selfe,
Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie;
But least you should not vnderstand me well,
And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,
I would detaine you here some month or two
Before you venture for me. I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworne,
So will I neuer be, so may you misse me,
But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne,
That I had beene forsworne: Beshrow your eyes,
They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,
One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours,
Mine owne I would say: but of mine then yours,
And so all yours; O these naughtie times
Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights.
And so though yours, not yours (proue it so)
Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.
I speake too long, but 'tis to peize the time,
To ich it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election
   Bass. Let me choose,
For as I am, I liue vpon the racke
   Por. Vpon the racke Bassanio, then confesse
What treason there is mingled with your loue
   Bass. None but that vglie treason of mistrust.
Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue:
There may as well be amitie and life,
'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue
   Por. I, but I feare you speake vpon the racke,
Where men enforced doth speake any thing
   Bass. Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth
   Por. Well then, confesse and liue
   Bass. Confesse and loue
Had beene the verie sum of my confession:
O happie torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliuerance:
But let me to my fortune and the caskets
   Por. Away then, I am lockt in one of them,
If you doe loue me, you will finde me out.
Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloofe,
Let musicke sound while he doth make his choise,
Then if he loose he makes a Swan-like end,
Fading in musique. That the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame
And watrie death-bed for him: he may win,
And what is musique than? Than musique is
Euen as the flourish, when true subiects bowe
To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day,
That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes eare,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes
With no lesse presence, but with much more loue
Then yong Alcides, when he did redeeme
The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy
To the Sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,
The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues:
With bleared visages come forth to view
The issue of th' exploit: Goe Hercules,
Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay
I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray.
Here Musicke. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the
Tell me where is fancie bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head:
How begot, how nourished. Replie, replie.
It is engendred in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and Fancie dies,
In the cradle where it lies:
Let vs all ring Fancies knell.
Ile begin it.
Ding, dong, bell
   All. Ding, dong, bell
   Bass. So may the outward showes be least themselues
The world is still deceiu'd with ornament.
In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of euill? In Religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will blesse it, and approue it with a text,
Hiding the grosenesse with faire ornament:
There is no voice so simple, but assumes
Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;
How manie cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward searcht, haue lyuers white as milke,
And these assume but valors excrement,
To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie,
And you shall see 'tis purchast by the weight,
Which therein workes a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that weare most of it:
So are those crisped snakie golden locks
Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde
Vpon supposed fairenesse, often knowne
To be the dowrie of a second head,
The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe
Vailing an Indian beautie; In a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudie gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,
Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge
'Tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead
Which rather threatnest then dost promise ought,
Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence,
And here choose I, ioy be the consequence
   Por. How all the other passions fleet to ayre,
As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire:
And shuddring feare, and greene-eyed iealousie.
O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie,
In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse,
I feele too much thy blessing, make it lesse,
For feare I surfeit
   Bas. What finde I here?
Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God
Hath come so neere creation? moue these eies?
Or whether riding on the bals of mine
Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips
Parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre
Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires
The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen
A golden mesh t' intrap the hearts of men
Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies,
How could he see to doe them? hauing made one,
Me thinkes it should haue power to steale both his
And leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In vnderprising it, so farre this shadow
Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule,
The continent, and summarie of my fortune.
You that choose not by the view
Chance as faire, and choose as true:
Since this fortune fals to you,
Be content, and seeke no new.
If you be well pleasd with this,
And hold your fortune for your blisse,
Turne you where your Lady is,
And claime her with a louing kisse
   Bass. A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue,
I come by note to giue, and to receiue,
Like one of two contending in a prize
That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies:
Hearing applause and vniuersall shout,
Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peales of praise be his or no.
So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so,
As doubtfull whether what I see be true,
Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you
   Por. You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand,
Such as I am; though for my selfe alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish my selfe much better, yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my selfe,
A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times
More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,
I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full summe of me
Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse,
Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd,
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learne: happier then this,
Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne;
Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit
Commits it selfe to yours to be directed,
As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King.
My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord
Of this faire mansion, master of my seruants,
Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now,
This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe
Are yours, my Lord, I giue them with this ring,
Which when you part from, loose, or giue away,
Let it presage the ruine of your loue,
And be my vantage to exclaime on you
   Bass. Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words,
Onely my bloud speakes to you in my vaines,
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As after some oration fairely spoke
By a beloued Prince, there doth appeare
Among the buzzing pleased multitude,
Where euery something being blent together,
Turnes to a wilde of nothing, saue of ioy
Exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence,
O then be bold to say Bassanio's dead
   Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time
That haue stood by and seene our wishes prosper,
To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady
   Gra. My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle Lady,
I wish you all the ioy that you can wish:
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And when your Honours meane to solemnize
The bargaine of your faith: I doe beseech you
Euen at that time I may be married too
   Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife
   Gra. I thanke your Lordship, you haue got me one.
My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours:
You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid:
You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission,
No more pertaines to me my Lord then you;
Your fortune stood vpon the caskets there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing heere vntill I swet againe,
And swearing till my very rough was dry
With oathes of loue, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this faire one heere
To haue her loue: prouided that your fortune
Atchieu'd her mistresse
   Por. Is this true Nerrissa?
  Ner. Madam it is so, so you stand pleas'd withall
   Bass. And doe you Gratiano meane good faith?
  Gra. Yes faith my Lord
   Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage
   Gra. Weele play with them the first boy for a thousand
   Ner. What and stake downe?
  Gra. No, we shal nere win at that sport, and stake
But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidell?
What and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Enter Lorenzo, Iessica, and Salerio.
  Bas. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether,
If that the youth of my new interest heere
Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue
I bid my verie friends and Countrimen
Sweet Portia welcome
   Por. So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome
   Lor. I thanke your honor; for my part my Lord,
My purpose was not to haue seene you heere,
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did intreate mee past all saying nay
To come with him along
   Sal. I did my Lord,
And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you
   Bass. Ere I ope his Letter
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth
   Sal. Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in minde,
Nor wel, vnlesse in minde: his Letter there
Wil shew you his estate.
Opens the Letter.
  Gra. Nerrissa, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom.
Your hand Salerio, what's the newes from Venice?
How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio;
I know he will be glad of our successe,
We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece
   Sal. I would you had won the fleece that hee hath
   Por. There are some shrewd contents in yond same
That steales the colour from Bassianos cheeke,
Some deere friend dead, else nothing in the world
Could turne so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse?
With leaue Bassanio I am halfe your selfe,
And I must freely haue the halfe of any thing
That this same paper brings you
   Bass. O sweet Portia,
Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words
That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie
When I did first impart my loue to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,
And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie,
Rating my selfe at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a Braggart, when I told you
My state was nothing, I should then haue told you
That I was worse then nothing: for indeede
I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend,
Ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie
To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie,
The paper as the bodie of my friend,
And euerie word in it a gaping wound
Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio,
Hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit,
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch
Of Merchant-marring rocks?
  Sal. Not one my Lord.
Besides, it should appeare, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Iew,
He would not take it: neuer did I know
A creature that did beare the shape of man
So keene and greedy to confound a man.
He plyes the Duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedome of the state
If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants,
The Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes
Of greatest port haue all perswaded with him,
But none can driue him from the enuious plea
Of forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond
   Iessi. When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare
To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men,
That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh,
Then twenty times the value of the summe
That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,
If law, authoritie, and power denie not,
It will goe hard with poore Anthonio
   Por. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble?
  Bass. The deerest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best condition'd, and vnwearied spirit
In doing curtesies: and one in whom
The ancient Romane honour more appeares
Then any that drawes breath in Italie
   Por. What summe owes he the Iew?
  Bass. For me three thousand ducats
   Por. What, no more?
Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond:
Double sixe thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description
Shall lose a haire through Bassanio's fault.
First goe with me to Church, and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend:
For neuer shall you lie by Portias side
With an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times ouer.
When it is payd, bring your true friend along,
My maid Nerrissa, and my selfe meane time
Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away,
For you shall hence vpon your wedding day:
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheere,
Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere.
But let me heare the letter of your friend.
Sweet Bassanio, my ships haue all miscarried, my Creditors
grow cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iew is
forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all
debts are cleerd between you and I, if I might see you at my
death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not
perswade you to come, let not my letter
   Por. O loue! dispach all busines and be gone
   Bass. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away,
I will make hast; but till I come againe,
No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,
Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine.
Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor.
  Iew. Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy,
This is the foole that lends out money gratis.
Iaylor, looke to him
   Ant. Heare me yet good Shylok
   Iew. Ile haue my bond, speake not against my bond,
I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond:
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,
But since I am a dog, beware my phangs,
The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder
Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request
   Ant. I pray thee heare me speake
   Iew. Ile haue my bond, I will not heare thee speake,
Ile haue my bond, and therefore speake no more,
Ile not be made a soft and dull ey'd foole,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld
To Christian intercessors: follow not,
Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond.
  Sol. It is the most impenetrable curre
That euer kept with men
   Ant. Let him alone,
Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers:
He seekes my life, his reason well I know;
I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures
Many that haue at times made mone to me,
Therefore he hates me
   Sol. I am sure the Duke will neuer grant
this forfeiture to hold
   An. The Duke cannot deny the course of law:
For the commoditie that strangers haue
With vs in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the iustice of the State,
Since that the trade and profit of the citty
Consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe,
These greefes and losses haue so bated mee,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor.
Well Iaylor, on, pray God Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.
Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Iessica, and a man of Portias.
  Lor. Madam, although I speake it in your presence,
You haue a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like amity, which appeares most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your Lord.
But if you knew to whom you shew this honour,
How true a Gentleman you send releefe,
How deere a louer of my Lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the worke
Then customary bounty can enforce you
   Por. I neuer did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now: for in companions
That do conuerse and waste the time together,
Whose soules doe beare an egal yoke of loue.
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit;
Which makes me thinke that this Anthonio
Being the bosome louer of my Lord,
Must needs be like my Lord. If it be so,
How little is the cost I haue bestowed
In purchasing the semblance of my soule;
From out the state of hellish cruelty,
This comes too neere the praising of my selfe,
Therefore no more of it: heere other things
Lorenso I commit into your hands,
The husbandry and mannage of my house,
Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part
I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow,
To liue in prayer and contemplation,
Onely attended by Nerrissa heere,
Vntill her husband and my Lords returne:
There is a monastery too miles off,
And there we will abide. I doe desire you
Not to denie this imposition,
The which my loue and some necessity
Now layes vpon you
   Lorens. Madame, with all my heart,
I shall obey you in all faire commands
   Por. My people doe already know my minde,
And will acknowledge you and Iessica
In place of Lord Bassanio and my selfe.
So far you well till we shall meete againe
   Lor. Faire thoughts & happy houres attend on you
   Iessi. I wish your Ladiship all hearts content
   Por. I thanke you for your wish, and am well pleas'd
To wish it backe on you: faryouwell Iessica.
Now Balthaser, as I haue euer found thee honest true,
So let me finde thee still: take this same letter,
And vse thou all the indeauor of a man,
In speed to Mantua, see thou render this
Into my cosins hand, Doctor Belario,
And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee,
Bring them I pray thee with imagin'd speed
Vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie
Which trades to Venice; waste no time in words,
But get thee gone, I shall be there before thee
   Balth. Madam, I goe with all conuenient speed
   Por. Come on Nerissa, I haue worke in hand
That you yet know not of; wee'll see our husbands
Before they thinke of vs?
  Nerrissa. Shall they see vs?
  Portia. They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit,
That they shall thinke we are accomplished
With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager
When we are both accoutered like yong men,
Ile proue the prettier fellow of the two,
And weare my dagger with the brauer grace,
And speake betweene the change of man and boy,
With a reede voyce, and turne two minsing steps
Into a manly stride; and speake of frayes
Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes
How honourable Ladies sought my loue,
Which I denying, they fell sicke and died.
I could not doe withall: then Ile repent,
And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them;
And twentie of these punie lies Ile tell,
That men shall sweare I haue discontinued schoole
Aboue a twelue moneth: I haue within my minde
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks,
Which I will practise
   Nerris. Why, shall wee turne to men?
  Portia. Fie, what a questions that?
If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter:
But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice
When I am in my coach, which stayes for vs
At the Parke gate; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twentie miles to day.
Enter Clowne and Iessica.
  Clown. Yes truly; for looke you, the sinnes of the Father
are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise
you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and so
now I speake my agitation of the matter: therfore be of
good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damn'd, there is
but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is
but a kinde of bastard hope neither
   Iessica. And what hope is that I pray thee?
  Clow. Marrie you may partlie hope that your father
got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter
   Ies. That were a kinde of bastard hope indeed, so the
sins of my mother should be visited vpon me
   Clow. Truly then I feare you are damned both by father
and mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I
fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both
   Ies. I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me
   Clow. Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians
enow before, e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another:
this making of Christians will raise the price of
Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee shall not
shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for money.
Enter Lorenzo.
  Ies. Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you say, heere
   Loren. I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet,
if you thus get my wife into corners?
  Ies. Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet
and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee
in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and hee saies
you are no good member of the common wealth, for
in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price
   Loren. I shall answere that better to the Commonwealth,
than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bellie:
the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet?
  Clow. It is much that the Moore should be more then
reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is
indeed more then I tooke her for
   Loren. How euerie foole can play vpon the word, I
thinke the best grace of witte will shortly turne into silence,
and discourse grow commendable in none onely
but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner?
  Clow. That is done sir, they haue all stomacks?
  Loren. Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you,
then bid them prepare dinner
   Clow. That is done to sir, onely couer is the word
   Loren. Will you couer than sir?
  Clow. Not so sir neither, I know my dutie
   Loren. Yet more quarreling with occasion, wilt thou
shew the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray
thee vnderstand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe
to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, serue in the
meat, and we will come in to dinner
   Clow. For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the
meat sir, it shall bee couered, for your comming in to
dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne.
Exit Clowne.
  Lor. O deare discretion, how his words are suted,
The foole hath planted in his memory
An Armie of good words, and I doe know
A many fooles that stand in better place,
Garnisht like him, that for a tricksie word
Defie the matter: how cheer'st thou Iessica,
And now good sweet say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassiano's wife?
  Iessi. Past all expressing, it is very meete
The Lord Bassanio liue an vpright life
For hauing such a blessing in his Lady,
He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth,
And if on earth he doe not meane it, it
Is reason he should neuer come to heauen?
Why, if two gods should play some heauenly match,
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one: there must be something else
Paund with the other, for the poore rude world
Hath not her fellow
   Loren. Euen such a husband
Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife
   Ies. Nay, but aske my opinion to of that?
  Lor. I will anone, first let vs goe to dinner?
  Ies. Nay, let me praise you while I haue a stomacke?
  Lor. No pray thee, let it serue for table talke,
Then how som ere thou speakst 'mong other things,
I shall digest it?
  Iessi. Well, Ile set you forth.
Actus Quartus.
Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Bassanio, and
   Duke. What, is Anthonio heere?
  Ant. Ready, so please your grace?
  Duke. I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answere
A stonie aduersary, an inhumane wretch,
Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty
From any dram of mercie
   Ant. I haue heard
Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie
His rigorous course: but since he stands obdurate,
And that no lawful meanes can carrie me
Out of his enuies reach, I do oppose
My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
To suffer with a quietnesse of spirit,
The very tiranny and rage of his
   Du. Go one and cal the Iew into the Court
   Sal. He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord.
Enter Shylocke.
  Du. Make roome, and let him stand before our face.
Shylocke the world thinkes, and I thinke so to
That thou but leadest this fashion of thy mallice
To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought
Thou'lt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange,
Than is thy strange apparant cruelty;
And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh,
Thou wilt not onely loose the forfeiture,
But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue:
Forgiue a moytie of the principall,
Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses
That haue of late so hudled on his backe,
Enow to presse a royall Merchant downe;
And plucke commiseration of his state
From brassie bosomes, and rough hearts of flints,
From stubborne Turkes and Tarters neuer traind
To offices of tender curtesie,
We all expect a gentle answer Iew?
  Iew. I haue possest your grace of what I purpose,
And by our holy Sabbath haue I sworne
To haue the due and forfeit of my bond.
If you denie it, let the danger light
Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freedome.
You'l aske me why I rather choose to haue
A weight of carrion flesh, then to receiue
Three thousand Ducats? Ile not answer that:
But say it is my humor; Is it answered?
What if my house be troubled with a Rat,
And I be pleas'd to giue ten thousand Ducates
To haue it bain'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge:
Some that are mad, if they behold a Cat:
And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'th nose,
Cannot containe their Vrine for affection.
Masters of passion swayes it to the moode
Of what it likes or loaths, now for your answer:
As there is no firme reason to be rendred
Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge?
Why he a harmlesse necessarie Cat?
Why he a woollen bag-pipe: but of force
Must yeeld to such ineuitable shame,
As to offend himselfe being offended:
So can I giue no reason, nor I will not,
More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing
I beare Anthonio, that I follow thus
A loosing suite against him? Are you answered?
  Bass. This is no answer thou vnfeeling man,
To excuse the currant of thy cruelty
   Iew. I am not bound to please thee with my answer
   Bass. Do all men kil the things they do not loue?
  Iew. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
  Bass. Euerie offence is not a hate at first
   Iew. What wouldst thou haue a Serpent sting thee
  Ant. I pray you thinke you question with the Iew:
You may as well go stand vpon the beach,
And bid the maine flood baite his vsuall height,
Or euen as well vse question with the Wolfe,
The Ewe bleate for the Lambe:
You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines
To wagge their high tops, and to make no noise
When they are fretted with the gusts of heauen:
You may as well do any thing most hard,
As seeke to soften that, then which what harder?
His Iewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you
Make no more offers, vse no farther meanes,
But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie
Let me haue iudgement, and the Iew his will
   Bas. For thy three thousand Ducates heere is six
   Iew. If euerie Ducat in sixe thousand Ducates
Were in sixe parts, and euery part a Ducate,
I would not draw them, I would haue my bond?
  Du. How shalt thou hope for mercie, rendring none?
  Iew. What iudgement shall I dread doing no wrong?
You haue among you many a purchast slaue,
Which like your Asses, and your Dogs and Mules,
You vse in abiect and in slauish parts,
Because you bought them. Shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marrie them to your heires?
Why sweate they vnder burthens? Let their beds
Be made as soft as yours: and let their pallats
Be season'd with such Viands: you will answer
The slaues are ours. So do I answer you.
The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is deerely bought, 'tis mine, and I will haue it.
If you deny me; fie vpon your Law,
There is no force in the decrees of Venice;
I stand for iudgement, answer, Shall I haue it?
  Du. Vpon my power I may dismisse this Court,
Vnlesse Bellario a learned Doctor,
Whom I haue sent for to determine this,
Come heere to day
   Sal. My Lord, heere stayes without
A Messenger with Letters from the Doctor,
New come from Padua
   Du. Bring vs the Letters, Call the Messengers
   Bass. Good cheere Anthonio. What man, corage yet:
The Iew shall haue my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shalt loose for me one drop of blood
   Ant. I am a tainted Weather of the flocke,
Meetest for death, the weakest kinde of fruite
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me;
You cannot better be employ'd Bassanio,
Then to liue still, and write mine Epitaph.
Enter Nerrissa.
  Du. Came you from Padua from Bellario?
  Ner. From both.
My Lord Bellario greets your Grace
   Bas. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
  Iew. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there
   Gra. Not on thy soale: but on thy soule harsh Iew
Thou mak'st thy knife keene: but no mettall can,
No, not the hangmans Axe beare halfe the keennesse
Of thy sharpe enuy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
  Iew. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make
   Gra. O be thou damn'd, inexecrable dogge,
And for thy life let iustice be accus'd:
Thou almost mak'st me wauer in my faith;
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That soules of Animals infuse themselues
Into the trunkes of men. Thy currish spirit
Gouern'd a Wolfe, who hang'd for humane slaughter,
Euen from the gallowes did his fell soule fleet;
And whil'st thou layest in thy vnhallowed dam,
Infus'd it selfe in thee: For thy desires
Are Woluish, bloody, steru'd, and rauenous
   Iew. Till thou canst raile the seale from off my bond
Thou but offend'st thy Lungs to speake so loud:
Repaire thy wit good youth, or it will fall
To endlesse ruine. I stand heere for Law
   Du. This Letter from Bellario doth commend
A yong and Learned Doctor in our Court;
Where is he?
  Ner. He attendeth heere hard by
To know your answer, whether you'l admit him
   Du. With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go giue him curteous conduct to this place,
Meane time the Court shall heare Bellarioes Letter.
Your Grace shall vnderstand, that at the receite of your
Letter I am very sicke: but in the instant that your messenger
came, in louing visitation, was with me a yong Doctor
of Rome, his name is Balthasar: I acquainted him with
the cause in Controuersie, betweene the Iew and Anthonio
the Merchant: We turn'd ore many Bookes together: hee is
furnished with my opinion, which bettred with his owne learning,
the greatnesse whereof I cannot enough commend, comes
with him at my importunity, to fill vp your Graces request in
my sted. I beseech you, let his lacke of years be no impediment
to let him lacke a reuerend estimation: for I neuer knewe so
yong a body, with so old a head. I leaue him to your gracious
acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.
Enter Portia for Balthazar.
  Duke. You heare the learn'd Bellario what he writes,
And heere (I take it) is the Doctor come.
Giue me your hand: Came you from old Bellario?
  Por. I did my Lord
   Du. You are welcome: take your place;
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the Court
   Por. I am enformed throughly of the cause.
Which is the Merchant heere? and which the Iew?
  Du. Anthonio and old Shylocke, both stand forth
   Por. Is your name Shylocke?
  Iew. Shylocke is my name
   Por. Of a strange nature is the sute you follow,
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian Law
Cannot impugne you as you do proceed.
You stand within his danger, do you not?
  Ant. I, so he sayes
   Por. Do you confesse the bond?
   Por. Then must the Iew be mercifull
   Iew. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that
   Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle raine from heauen
Vpon the place beneath. It is twice blest,
It blesseth him that giues, and him that takes,
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes
The throned Monarch better then his Crowne.
His Scepter shewes the force of temporall power,
The attribute to awe and Maiestie,
Wherein doth sit the dread and feare of Kings:
But mercy is aboue this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings,
It is an attribute to God himselfe;
And earthly power doth then shew likest Gods
When mercie seasons Iustice. Therefore Iew,
Though Iustice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of Iustice, none of vs
Should see saluation: we do pray for mercie,
And that same prayer, doth teach vs all to render
The deeds of mercie. I haue spoke thus much
To mittigate the iustice of thy plea:
Which if thou follow, this strict course of Venice
Must needes giue sentence 'gainst the Merchant there
   Shy. My deeds vpon my head, I craue the Law,
The penaltie and forfeite of my bond
   Por. Is he not able to discharge the money?
  Bas. Yes, heere I tender it for him in the Court,
Yea, twice the summe, if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times ore,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
If this will not suffice, it must appeare
That malice beares downe truth. And I beseech you
Wrest once the Law to your authority.
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curbe this cruell diuell of his will
   Por. It must not be, there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established:
'Twill be recorded for a President,
And many an error by the same example,
Will rush into the state: It cannot be
   Iew. A Daniel come to iudgement, yea a Daniel.
O wise young Iudge, how do I honour thee
   Por. I pray you let me looke vpon the bond
   Iew. Heere 'tis most reuerend Doctor, heere it is
   Por. Shylocke, there's thrice thy monie offered thee
   Shy. An oath, an oath, I haue an oath in heauen:
Shall I lay periurie vpon my soule?
No not for Venice
   Por. Why this bond is forfeit,
And lawfully by this the Iew may claime
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Neerest the Merchants heart; be mercifull,
Take thrice thy money, bid me teare the bond
   Iew. When it is paid according to the tenure.
It doth appeare you are a worthy Iudge:
You know the Law, your exposition
Hath beene most sound. I charge you by the Law,
Whereof you are a well-deseruing pillar,
Proceede to iudgement: By my soule I sweare,
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay heere on my bond
   An. Most heartily I do beseech the Court
To giue the iudgement
   Por. Why then thus it is:
You must prepare your bosome for his knife
   Iew. O noble Iudge, O excellent yong man
   Por. For the intent and purpose of the Law
Hath full relation to the penaltie,
Which heere appeareth due vpon the bond
   Iew. 'Tis verie true: O wise and vpright Iudge,
How much more elder art thou then thy lookes?
  Por. Therefore lay bare your bosome
   Iew. I, his brest,
So sayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge?
Neerest his heart, those are the very words
   Por. It is so: Are there ballance heere to weigh the
  Iew. I haue them ready
   Por. Haue by some Surgeon Shylock on your charge
To stop his wounds, least he should bleede to death
   Iew. It is not nominated in the bond?
  Por. It is not so exprest: but what of that?
'Twere good you do so much for charitie
   Iew. I cannot finde it, 'tis not in the bond
   Por. Come Merchant, haue you any thing to say?
  Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepar'd.
Giue me your hand Bassanio, fare you well.
Greeue not that I am falne to this for you:
For heerein fortune shewes her selfe more kinde
Then is her custome. It is still her vse
To let the wretched man out-liue his wealth,
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow
An age of pouerty. From which lingring penance
Of such miserie, doth she cut me off:
Commend me to your honourable Wife,
Tell her the processe of Anthonio's end:
Say how I lou'd you; speake me faire in death:
And when the tale is told, bid her be iudge,
Whether Bassanio had not once a Loue:
Repent not you that you shall loose your friend,
And he repents not that he payes your debt.
For if the Iew do cut but deepe enough,
Ile pay it instantly, with all my heart
   Bas. Anthonio, I am married to a wife,
Which is as deere to me as life it selfe,
But life it selfe, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd aboue thy life.
I would loose all, I sacrifice them all
Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you
   Por. Your wife would giue you little thanks for that
If she were by to heare you make the offer
   Gra. I haue a wife whom I protest I loue,
I would she were in heauen, so she could
Intreat some power to change this currish Iew
   Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behinde her backe,
The wish would make else an vnquiet house
   Iew. These be the Christian husbands: I haue a daughter
Would any of the stocke of Barrabas
Had beene her husband, rather then a Christian.
We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence
   Por. A pound of that same marchants flesh is thine,
The Court awards it, and the law doth giue it
   Iew. Most rightfull Iudge
   Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast,
The Law allowes it, and the Court awards it
   Iew. Most learned Iudge, a sentence, come prepare
   Por. Tarry a little, there is something else,
This bond doth giue thee heere no iot of bloud,
The words expresly are a pound of flesh:
Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh,
But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian bloud, thy lands and goods
Are by the Lawes of Venice confiscate
Vnto the state of Venice
   Gra. O vpright Iudge,
Marke Iew, o learned Iudge
   Shy. Is that the law?
  Por. Thy selfe shalt see the Act:
For as thou vrgest iustice, be assur'd
Thou shalt haue iustice more then thou desirest
   Gra. O learned Iudge, mark Iew, a learned Iudge
   Iew. I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian goe
   Bass. Heere is the money
   Por. Soft, the Iew shall haue all iustice, soft, no haste,
He shall haue nothing but the penalty
   Gra. O Iew, an vpright Iudge, a learned Iudge
   Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh,
Shed thou no bloud, nor cut thou lesse nor more
But iust a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more
Or lesse then a iust pound, be it so much
As makes it light or heauy in the substance,
Or the deuision of the twentieth part
Of one poore scruple, nay if the scale doe turne
But in the estimation of a hayre,
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate
   Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel Iew,
Now infidell I haue thee on the hip
   Por. Why doth the Iew pause, take thy forfeiture
   Shy. Giue me my principall, and let me goe
   Bass. I haue it ready for thee, heere it is
   Por. He hath refus'd it in the open Court,
He shall haue meerly iustice and his bond
   Gra. A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel,
I thanke thee Iew for teaching me that word
   Shy. Shall I not haue barely my principall?
  Por. Thou shalt haue nothing but the forfeiture,
To be taken so at thy perill Iew
   Shy. Why then the Deuill giue him good of it:
Ile stay no longer question
   Por. Tarry Iew,
The Law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the Lawes of Venice,
If it be proued against an Alien,
That by direct, or indirect attempts
He seeke the life of any Citizen,
The party gainst the which he doth contriue,
Shall seaze one halfe his goods, the other halfe
Comes to the priuie coffer of the State,
And the offenders life lies in the mercy
Of the Duke onely, gainst all other voice.
In which predicament I say thou standst:
For it appeares by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly to,
Thou hast contriu'd against the very life
Of the defendant: and thou hast incur'd
The danger formerly by me rehearst.
Downe therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke
   Gra. Beg that thou maist haue leaue to hang thy selfe,
And yet thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord,
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the states charge
   Duk. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,
I pardon thee thy life before thou aske it:
For halfe thy wealth, it is Anthonio's
The other halfe comes to the generall state,
Which humblenesse may driue vnto a fine
   Por. I for the state, not for Anthonio
   Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that,
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustaine my house: you take my life
When you doe take the meanes whereby I liue
   Por. What mercy can you render him Anthonio?
  Gra. A halter gratis, nothing else for Gods sake
   Ant. So please my Lord the Duke, and all the Court
To quit the fine for one halfe of his goods,
I am content: so he will let me haue
The other halfe in vse, to render it
Vpon his death, vnto the Gentleman
That lately stole his daughter.
Two things prouided more, that for this fauour
He presently become a Christian:
The other, that he doe record a gift
Heere in the Court of all he dies possest
Vnto his sonne Lorenzo, and his daughter
   Duk. He shall doe this, or else I doe recant
The pardon that I late pronounced heere
   Por. Art thou contented Iew? what dost thou say?
  Shy. I am content
   Por. Clarke, draw a deed of gift
   Shy. I pray you giue me leaue to goe from hence,
I am not well, send the deed after me,
And I will signe it
   Duke. Get thee gone, but doe it
   Gra. In christning thou shalt haue two godfathers,
Had I been iudge, thou shouldst haue had ten more,
To bring thee to the gallowes, not to the font.
  Du. Sir I intreat you with me home to dinner
   Por. I humbly doe desire your Grace of pardon,
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meete I presently set forth
   Duk. I am sorry that your leysure serues you not:
Anthonio, gratifie this gentleman,
For in my minde you are much bound to him.
Exit Duke and his traine.
  Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Haue by your wisedome beene this day acquitted
Of greeuous penalties, in lieu whereof,
Three thousand Ducats due vnto the Iew
We freely cope your curteous paines withall
   An. And stand indebted ouer and aboue
In loue and seruice to you euermore
   Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied,
And I deliuering you, am satisfied,
And therein doe account my selfe well paid,
My minde was neuer yet more mercinarie.
I pray you know me when we meete againe,
I wish you well, and so I take my leaue
   Bass. Deare sir, of force I must attempt you further,
Take some remembrance of vs as a tribute,
Not as fee: grant me two things, I pray you
Not to denie me, and to pardon me
   Por. You presse mee farre, and therefore I will yeeld,
Giue me your gloues, Ile weare them for your sake,
And for your loue Ile take this ring from you,
Doe not draw backe your hand, ile take no more,
And you in loue shall not deny me this?
  Bass. This ring good sir, alas it is a trifle,
I will not shame my selfe to giue you this
   Por. I wil haue nothing else but onely this,
And now methinkes I haue a minde to it
   Bas. There's more depends on this then on the valew,
The dearest ring in Venice will I giue you,
And finde it out by proclamation,
Onely for this I pray you pardon me
   Por. I see sir you are liberall in offers,
You taught me first to beg, and now me thinkes
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd
   Bas. Good sir, this ring was giuen me by my wife,
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell, nor giue, nor lose it
   Por. That scuse serues many men to saue their gifts,
And if your wife be not a mad woman,
And know how well I haue deseru'd this ring,
Shee would not hold out enemy for euer
For giuing it to me: well, peace be with you.
  Ant. My L[ord]. Bassanio, let him haue the ring,
Let his deseruings and my loue withall
Be valued against your wiues commandement
   Bass. Goe Gratiano, run and ouer-take him,
Giue him the ring, and bring him if thou canst
Vnto Anthonios house, away, make haste.
Come, you and I will thither presently,
And in the morning early will we both
Flie toward Belmont, come Anthonio.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
  Por. Enquire the Iewes house out, giue him this deed,
And let him signe it, wee'll away to night,
And be a day before our husbands home:
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter Gratiano.
  Gra. Faire sir, you are well ore-tane:
My L[ord]. Bassanio vpon more aduice,
Hath sent you heere this ring, and doth intreat
Your company at dinner
   Por. That cannot be;
His ring I doe accept most thankfully,
And so I pray you tell him: furthermore,
I pray you shew my youth old Shylockes house
   Gra. That will I doe
   Ner. Sir, I would speake with you:
Ile see if I can get my husbands ring
Which I did make him sweare to keepe for euer
   Por. Thou maist I warrant, we shal haue old swearing
That they did giue the rings away to men;
But weele out-face them, and out-sweare them to:
Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry
   Ner. Come good sir, will you shew me to this house.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.
  Lor. The moone shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet winde did gently kisse the trees,
And they did make no noyse, in such a night
Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls,
And sigh'd his soule toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressed lay that night
   Ies. In such a night
Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe,
And saw the Lyons shadow ere himselfe,
And ranne dismayed away
   Loren. In such a night
Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand
Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue
To come againe to Carthage
   Ies. In such a night
Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs
That did renew old Eson
   Loren. In such a night
Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe,
And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice,
As farre as Belmont
   Ies. In such a night
Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well,
Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith,
And nere a true one
   Loren. In such a night
Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow)
Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her
   Iessi. I would out-night you did no body come:
But harke, I heare the footing of a man.
Enter Messenger.
  Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
  Mes. A friend
   Loren. A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend?
  Mes. Stephano is my name, and I bring word
My Mistresse will before the breake of day
Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about
By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes
For happy wedlocke houres
   Loren. Who comes with her?
  Mes. None but a holy Hermit and her maid:
I pray you is my Master yet return'd?
  Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him,
But goe we in I pray thee Iessica,
And ceremoniously let vs prepare
Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house,
Enter Clowne.
  Clo. Sola, sola: wo ha ho, sola, sola
   Loren. Who calls?
  Clo. Sola, did you see M[aster]. Lorenzo, & M[aster]. Lorenzo,
  Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere
   Clo. Sola, where, where?
  Lor. Heere?
  Clo. Tel him ther's a Post come from my Master, with
his horne full of good newes, my Master will be here ere
morning sweete soule
   Loren. Let's in, and there expect their comming.
And yet no matter: why should we goe in?
My friend Stephen, signifie pray you
Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand,
And bring your musique foorth into the ayre.
How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this banke,
Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke
Creepe in our eares soft stilnes, and the night
Become the tutches of sweet harmonie:
Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen
Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold,
There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst
But in his motion like an Angell sings,
Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins;
Such harmonie is in immortall soules,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it:
Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare,
And draw her home with musicke
   Iessi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.
Play musicke.
  Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue:
For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares,
You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand,
Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet
Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But musicke for time doth change his nature,
The man that hath no musicke in himselfe,
Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles,
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections darke as Erobus,
Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
  Por. That light we see is burning in my hall:
How farre that little candell throwes his beames,
So shines a good deed in a naughty world
   Ner. When the moone shone we did not see the candle?
  Por. So doth the greater glory dim the lesse,
A substitute shines brightly as a King
Vntill a King be by, and then his state
Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke
Into the maine of waters: musique, harke.
  Ner. It is your musicke Madame of the house
   Por. Nothing is good I see without respect,
Methinkes it sounds much sweeter then by day?
  Ner. Silence bestowes that vertue on it Madam
   Por. The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the Larke
When neither is attended: and I thinke
The Nightingale if she should sing by day
When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a Musitian then the Wren?
How many things by season, season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection:
Peace, how the Moone sleepes with Endimion,
And would not be awak'd.
Musicke ceases.
  Lor. That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia
   Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the
Cuckow by the bad voice?
  Lor. Deere Lady welcome home?
  Por. We haue bene praying for our husbands welfare
Which speed we hope the better for our words,
Are they return'd?
  Lor. Madam, they are not yet:
But there is come a Messenger before
To signifie their comming
   Por. Go in Nerrissa,
Giue order to my seruants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence,
Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you.
A Tucket sounds.
  Lor. Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet,
We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not
   Por. This night methinkes is but the daylight sicke,
It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day,
Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.
Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers.
  Bas. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walke in absence of the sunne
   Por. Let me giue light, but let me not be light,
For a light wife doth make a heauie husband,
And neuer be Bassanio so for me,
But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord
   Bass. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend
This is the man, this is Anthonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound
   Por. You should in all sence be much bound to him,
For as I heare he was much bound for you
   Anth. No more then I am wel acquitted of
   Por. Sir, you are verie welcome to our house:
It must appeare in other waies then words,
Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie
   Gra. By yonder Moone I sweare you do me wrong,
Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke,
Would he were gelt that had it for my part,
Since you do take it Loue so much at hart
   Por. A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter?
  Gra. About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring
That she did giue me, whose Poesie was
For all the world like Cutlers Poetry
Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not
   Ner. What talke you of the Poesie or the valew:
You swore to me when I did giue it you,
That you would weare it til the houre of death,
And that it should lye with you in your graue,
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it.
Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know
The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it
   Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man
   Nerrissa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man
   Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth,
A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke,
A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee,
I could not for my heart deny it him
   Por. You were too blame, I must be plaine with you,
To part so slightly with your wiues first gift,
A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger,
And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh.
I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare
Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands:
I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it,
Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,
You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe,
And 'twere to me I should be mad at it
   Bass. Why I were best to cut my left hand off,
And sweare I lost the Ring defending it
   Gra. My Lord Bassanio gaue his Ring away
Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede
Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke
That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine,
And neyther man nor master would take ought
But the two Rings
   Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord?
Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me
   Bass. If I could adde a lie vnto a fault,
I would deny it: but you see my finger
Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone
   Por. Euen so voide is your false heart of truth.
By heauen I wil nere come in your bed
Vntil I see the Ring
   Ner. Nor I in yours, til I againe see mine
   Bass. Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,
If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring,
And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring,
And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,
When nought would be accepted but the Ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure?
  Por. If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring,
Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring,
Or your owne honour to containe the Ring,
You would not then haue parted with the Ring:
What man is there so much vnreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to haue defended it
With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie
To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie:
Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue,
Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?
  Bass. No by mine honor Madam, by my soule
No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me,
And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:
Euen he that had held vp the verie life
Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady?
I was inforc'd to send it after him,
I was beset with shame and curtesie,
My honor would not let ingratitude
So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady,
And by these blessed Candles of the night,
Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd
The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?
  Por. Let not that Doctor ere come neere my house,
Since he hath got the iewell that I loued,
And that which you did sweare to keepe for me,
I will become as liberall as you,
Ile not deny him any thing I haue,
No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,
If you doe not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne,
Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow
   Nerrissa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd
How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection
   Gra. Well, doe you so: let not me take him then,
For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen
   Ant. I am th' vnhappy subiect of these quarrels
   Por. Sir, grieue not you,
You are welcome notwithstanding
   Bas. Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong,
And in the hearing of these manie friends
I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes
Wherein I see my selfe
   Por. Marke you but that?
In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe:
In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe,
And there's an oath of credit
   Bas. Nay, but heare me.
Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare
I neuer more will breake an oath with thee
   Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth,
Which but for him that had your husbands ring
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe,
My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord
Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie
   Por. Then you shall be his suretie: giue him this,
And bid him keepe it better then the other
   Ant. Heere Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring
   Bass. By heauen it is the same I gaue the Doctor
   Por. I had it of him: pardon Bassanio,
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me
   Ner. And pardon me my gentle Gratiano,
For that same scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke
In liew of this, last night did lye with me
   Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies
In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough:
What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it
   Por. Speake not so grossely, you are all amaz'd;
Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure,
It comes from Padua from Bellario,
There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor,
Nerrissa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere
Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you,
And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet
Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome,
And I haue better newes in store for you
Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone,
There you shall finde three of your Argosies
Are richly come to harbour sodainlie.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter
   Antho. I am dumbe
   Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?
  Gra. Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold
   Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it,
Vnlesse he liue vntill he be a man
   Bass. (Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow,
When I am absent, then lie with my wife
   An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing;
For heere I reade for certaine that my ships
Are safelie come to Rode
   Por. How now Lorenzo?
My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you
   Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee.
There doe I giue to you and Iessica
From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of
   Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way
Of starued people
   Por. It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,
And charge vs there vpon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully
   Gra. Let it be so, the first intergatory
That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day,
But were the day come, I should wish it darke,
Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.
Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.
FINIS. The Merchant of Venice.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The First Part of Henry the Fourth
with the Life and Death of Henry Sirnamed Hot-Spvrre
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the King, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland,
  King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Finde we a time for frighted Peace to pant,
And breath shortwinded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in Stronds a-farre remote:
No more the thirsty entrance of this Soile,
Shall daube her lippes with her owne childrens blood:
No more shall trenching Warre channell her fields,
Nor bruise her Flowrets with the Armed hoofes
Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes,
Which like the Meteors of a troubled Heauen,
All of one Nature, of one Substance bred,
Did lately meete in the intestine shocke,
And furious cloze of ciuill Butchery,
Shall now in mutuall well-beseeming rankes
March all one way, and be no more oppos'd
Against Acquaintance, Kindred, and Allies.
The edge of Warre, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his Master. Therefore Friends,
As farre as to the Sepulcher of Christ,
Whose Souldier now vnder whose blessed Crosse
We are impressed and ingag'd to fight,
Forthwith a power of English shall we leuie,
Whose armes were moulded in their Mothers wombe,
To chace these Pagans in those holy Fields,
Ouer whose Acres walk'd those blessed feete
Which fourteene hundred yeares ago were nail'd
For our aduantage on the bitter Crosse.
But this our purpose is a tweluemonth old,
And bootlesse 'tis to tell you we will go:
Therefore we meete not now. Then let me heare
Of you my gentle Cousin Westmerland,
What yesternight our Councell did decree,
In forwarding this deere expedience
   West. My Liege: This haste was hot in question,
And many limits of the Charge set downe
But yesternight: when all athwart there came
A Post from Wales, loaden with heauy Newes;
Whose worst was, That the Noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wilde Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered:
Vpon whose dead corpes there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shamelesse transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
(Without much shame) re-told or spoken of
   King. It seemes then, that the tidings of this broile,
Brake off our businesse for the Holy land
   West. This matcht with other like, my gracious Lord,
Farre more vneuen and vnwelcome Newes
Came from the North, and thus it did report:
On Holy-roode day, the gallant Hotspurre there,
Young Harry Percy, and braue Archibald,
That euer-valiant and approoued Scot,
At Holmeden met, where they did spend
A sad and bloody houre:
As by discharge of their Artillerie,
And shape of likely-hood the newes was told:
For he that brought them, in the very heate
And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Vncertaine of the issue any way
   King. Heere is a deere and true industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his Horse,
Strain'd with the variation of each soyle,
Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours:
And he hath brought vs smooth and welcome newes.
The Earle of Dowglas is discomfited,
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights
Balk'd in their owne blood did Sir Walter see
On Holmedons Plaines. Of Prisoners, Hotspurre tooke
Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldest sonne
To beaten Dowglas, and the Earle of Atholl,
Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoyle?
A gallant prize? Ha Cosin, is it not? Infaith it is
   West. A Conquest for a Prince to boast of
   King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, & mak'st me sin,
In enuy, that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the Father of so blest a Sonne:
A Sonne, who is the Theame of Honors tongue;
Among'st a Groue, the very straightest Plant,
Who is sweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride:
Whil'st I by looking on the praise of him,
See Ryot and Dishonor staine the brow
Of my yong Harry. O that it could be prou'd,
That some Night-tripping-Faiery, had exchang'd
In Cradle-clothes, our Children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet:
Then would I haue his Harry, and he mine:
But let him from my thoughts. What thinke you Coze
Of this young Percies pride? The Prisoners
Which he in this aduenture hath surpriz'd,
To his owne vse he keepes, and sends me word
I shall haue none but Mordake Earle of Fife
   West. This is his Vnckles teaching. This is Worcester
Maleuolent to you in all Aspects:
Which makes him prune himselfe, and bristle vp
The crest of Youth against your Dignity
   King. But I haue sent for him to answer this:
And for this cause a-while we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Ierusalem.
Cosin, on Wednesday next, our Councell we will hold
At Windsor, and so informe the Lords:
But come your selfe with speed to vs againe,
For more is to be saide, and to be done,
Then out of anger can be vttered
   West. I will my Liege.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and Pointz.
  Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?
  Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of olde
Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping
vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten
to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know.
What a diuell hast thou to do with the time of the day?
vnlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons,
and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes
of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire
hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason,
why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the
time of the day
   Fal. Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that
take Purses, go by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not
by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I
prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God saue
thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte
   Prin. What, none?
  Fal. No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to
an Egge and Butter
   Prin. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly
   Fal. Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King,
let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd
Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forresters,
Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone;
and let men say, we be men of good Gouernment, being
gouerned as the Sea, by our noble and chast mistris the
Moone, vnder whose countenance we steale
   Prin. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the
fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and
flow like the Sea, beeing gouerned as the Sea is, by the
Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most resolutely
snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely
spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by:
and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe
as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow
as the ridge of the Gallowes
   Fal. Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of
the Tauerne a most sweet Wench?
  Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is
not a Buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?
  Fal. How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy
quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe
with a Buffe-Ierkin?
  Prin. Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Hostesse
of the Tauerne?
  Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a
time and oft
   Prin. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?
  Fal. No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid al there
   Prin. Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would
stretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit
   Fal. Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it heere apparant,
that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag,
shall there be Gallowes standing in England when thou
art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rustie
curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou
when thou art a King, hang a Theefe
   Prin. No, thou shalt
   Fal. Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge
   Prin. Thou iudgest false already. I meane, thou shalt
haue the hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare
   Fal. Well Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with
my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell
   Prin. For obtaining of suites?
  Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hangman
hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a
Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beare
   Prin. Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute
   Fal. Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe
   Prin. What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly
of Moore Ditch?
  Fal. Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art indeed
the most comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince.
But Hal, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I wold
thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good names
were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated
me the other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd
him not, and yet hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded
him not, and yet he talkt wisely, and in the street too
   Prin. Thou didst well: for no man regards it
   Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeede
able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vnto
me Hall, God forgiue thee for it. Before I knew thee
Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (if a man shold speake
truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must giue ouer
this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a
Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Christendome
   Prin. Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke?
  Fal. Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I doe
not, call me Villaine, and baffle me
   Prin. I see a good amendment of life in thee: From
Praying, to Purse-taking
   Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a
man to labour in his Vocation
   Pointz. Now shall wee know if Gads hill haue set a
Watch. O, if men were to be saued by merit, what hole
in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent
Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true man
   Prin. Good morrow Ned
   Poines. Good morrow sweet Hal. What saies Monsieur
remorse? What sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar:
Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee about thy Soule,
that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup of
Madera, and a cold Capons legge?
  Prin. Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue
his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs:
He will giue the diuell his due
   Poin. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with
   Prin. Else he had damn'd cozening the diuell
   Poy. But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by
foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes going
to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders riding
to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards for you
all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads-hill lyes to
night in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in
Eastcheape; we may doe it as secure as sleepe: if you will
go, I will stuffe your Purses full of Crownes: if you will
not, tarry at home and be hang'd
   Fal. Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not,
Ile hang you for going
   Poy. You will chops
   Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?
  Prin. Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I
   Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship
in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royall,
if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings
   Prin. Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap
   Fal. Why, that's well said
   Prin. Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home
   Fal. Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King
   Prin. I care not
   Poyn. Sir Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone,
I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that
   Fal. Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion;
and he the eares of profiting, that what thou speakest,
may moue; and what he heares may be beleeued, that the
true Prince, may (for recreation sake) proue a false theefe;
for the poore abuses of the time, want countenance. Farwell,
you shall finde me in Eastcheape
   Prin. Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown
   Poy. Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs
to morrow. I haue a iest to execute, that I cannot mannage
alone. Falstaffe, Haruey, Rossill, and Gads-hill, shall
robbe those men that wee haue already way-layde, your
selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the booty,
if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my
   Prin. But how shal we part with them in setting forth?
  Poyn. Why, we wil set forth before or after them, and
appoint them a place of meeting, wherin it is at our pleasure
to faile; and then will they aduenture vppon the exploit
themselues, which they shall haue no sooner atchieued,
but wee'l set vpon them
   Prin. I, but tis like that they will know vs by our
horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to
be our selues
   Poy. Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in
the wood, our vizards wee will change after wee leaue
them: and sirrah, I haue Cases of Buckram for the nonce,
to immaske our noted outward garments
   Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for vs
   Poin. Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as
true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third
if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes.
The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes
that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper:
how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what
blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe
of this, lyes the iest
   Prin. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things
necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape,
there Ile sup. Farewell
   Poyn. Farewell, my Lord.
  Prin. I know you all, and will a-while vphold
The vnyoak'd humor of your idlenesse:
Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne,
Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes
To smother vp his Beauty from the world,
That when he please againe to be himselfe,
Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,
By breaking through the foule and vgly mists
Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him.
If all the yeare were playing holidaies,
To sport, would be as tedious as to worke;
But when they seldome come, they wisht-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So when this loose behauiour I throw off,
And pay the debt I neuer promised;
By how much better then my word I am,
By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes,
And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground:
My reformation glittering o're my fault,
Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Then that which hath no foyle to set it off.
Ile so offend, to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspurre, Sir Walter
  King. My blood hath beene too cold and temperate,
Vnapt to stirre at these indignities,
And you haue found me; for accordingly,
You tread vpon my patience: But be sure,
I will from henceforth rather be my Selfe,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, then my condition
Which hath beene smooth as Oyle, soft as yong Downe,
And therefore lost that Title of respect,
Which the proud soule ne're payes, but to the proud
   Wor. Our house (my Soueraigne Liege) little deserues
The scourge of greatnesse to be vsed on it,
And that same greatnesse too, which our owne hands
Haue holpe to make so portly
   Nor. My Lord
   King. Worcester get thee gone: for I do see
Danger and disobedience in thine eye.
O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And Maiestie might neuer yet endure
The moody Frontier of a seruant brow,
You haue good leaue to leaue vs. When we need
Your vse and counsell, we shall send for you.
You were about to speake
   North. Yea, my good Lord.
Those Prisoners in your Highnesse demanded,
Which Harry Percy heere at Holmedon tooke,
Were (as he sayes) not with such strength denied
As was deliuered to your Maiesty:
Who either through enuy, or misprision,
Was guilty of this fault; and not my Sonne
   Hot. My Liege, I did deny no Prisoners.
But, I remember when the fight was done,
When I was dry with Rage, and extreame Toyle,
Breathlesse, and Faint, leaning vpon my Sword,
Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly drest;
Fresh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapt,
Shew'd like a stubble Land at Haruest home.
He was perfumed like a Milliner,
And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held
A Pouncet-box: which euer and anon
He gaue his Nose, and took't away againe:
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Tooke it in Snuffe. And still he smil'd and talk'd:
And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them vntaught Knaues, Vnmannerly,
To bring a slouenly vnhandsome Coarse
Betwixt the Winde, and his Nobility.
With many Holiday and Lady tearme
He question'd me: Among the rest, demanded
My Prisoners, in your Maiesties behalfe.
I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold,
(To be so pestered with a Popingay)
Out of my Greefe, and my Impatience,
Answer'd (neglectingly) I know not what,
He should, or should not: For he made me mad,
To see him shine so briske, and smell so sweet,
And talke so like a Waiting-Gentlewoman,
Of Guns, & Drums, and Wounds: God saue the marke;
And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth
Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise:
And that it was great pitty, so it was,
That villanous Salt-peter should be digg'd
Out of the Bowels of the harmlesse Earth,
Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroy'd
So Cowardly. And but for these vile Gunnes,
He would himselfe haue beene a Souldier.
This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord)
Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.)
And I beseech you, let not this report
Come currant for an Accusation,
Betwixt my Loue, and your high Maiesty
   Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my Lord,
What euer Harry Percie then had said,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest retold,
May reasonably dye, and neuer rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he vnsay it now
   King. Why yet doth deny his Prisoners,
But with Prouiso and Exception,
That we at our owne charge, shall ransome straight
His Brother-in-Law, the foolish Mortimer,
Who (in my soule) hath wilfully betraid
The liues of those, that he did leade to Fight,
Against the great Magitian, damn'd Glendower:
Whose daughter (as we heare) the Earle of March
Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then,
Be emptied, to redeeme a Traitor home?
Shall we buy Treason? and indent with Feares,
When they haue lost and forfeyted themselues.
No: on the barren Mountaine let him sterue:
For I shall neuer hold that man my Friend,
Whose tongue shall aske me for one peny cost
To ransome home reuolted Mortimer
   Hot. Reuolted Mortimer?
He neuer did fall off, my Soueraigne Liege,
But by the chance of Warre: to proue that true,
Needs no more but one tongue. For all those Wounds,
Those mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he tooke,
When on the gentle Seuernes siedgie banke,
In single Opposition hand to hand,
He did confound the best part of an houre
In changing hardiment with great Glendower:
Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink
Vpon agreement, of swift Seuernes flood;
Who then affrighted with their bloody lookes,
Ran fearefully among the trembling Reeds,
And hid his crispe-head in the hollow banke,
Blood-stained with these Valiant Combatants.
Neuer did base and rotten Policy
Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor neuer could the Noble Mortimer
Receiue so many, and all willingly:
Then let him not be sland'red with Reuolt
   King. Thou do'st bely him Percy, thou dost bely him;
He neuer did encounter with Glendower:
I tell thee, he durst as well haue met the diuell alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art thou not asham'd? But Sirrah, henceforth
Let me not heare you speake of Mortimer.
Send me your Prisoners with the speediest meanes,
Or you shall heare in such a kinde from me
As will displease ye. My Lord Northumberland,
We License your departure with your sonne,
Send vs your Prisoners, or you'l heare of it.
  Hot. And if the diuell come and roare for them
I will not send them. I will after straight
And tell him so: for I will ease my heart,
Although it be with hazard of my head
   Nor. What? drunke with choller? stay & pause awhile,
Heere comes your Vnckle.
Enter Worcester.
  Hot. Speake of Mortimer?
Yes, I will speake of him, and let my soule
Want mercy, if I do not ioyne with him.
In his behalfe, Ile empty all these Veines,
And shed my deere blood drop by drop i'th dust,
But I will lift the downfall Mortimer
As high i'th Ayre, as this Vnthankfull King,
As this Ingrate and Cankred Bullingbrooke
   Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad
  Wor. Who strooke this heate vp after I was gone?
  Hot. He will (forsooth) haue all my Prisoners:
And when I vrg'd the ransom once againe
Of my Wiues Brother, then his cheeke look'd pale,
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer
   Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?
  Nor. He was: I heard the Proclamation,
And then it was, when the vnhappy King
(Whose wrongs in vs God pardon) did set forth
Vpon his Irish Expedition:
From whence he intercepted, did returne
To be depos'd, and shortly murthered
   Wor. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide mouth
Liue scandaliz'd, and fouly spoken of
   Hot. But soft I pray you; did King Richard then
Proclaime my brother Mortimer,
Heyre to the Crowne?
  Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it
   Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King,
That wish'd him on the barren Mountaines staru'd.
But shall it be, that you that set the Crowne
Vpon the head of this forgetfull man,
And for his sake, wore the detested blot
Of murtherous subornation? Shall it be,
That you a world of curses vndergoe,
Being the Agents, or base second meanes,
The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather?
O pardon, if that I descend so low,
To shew the Line, and the Predicament
Wherein you range vnder this subtill King.
Shall it for shame, be spoken in these dayes,
Or fill vp Chronicles in time to come,
That men of your Nobility and Power,
Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe
(As Both of you, God pardon it, haue done)
To put downe Richard, that sweet louely Rose,
And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke?
And shall it in more shame be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shooke off
By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent?
No: yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme
Your banish'd Honors, and restore your selues
Into the good Thoughts of the world againe.
Reuenge the geering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud King, who studies day and night
To answer all the Debt he owes vnto you,
Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths:
Therefore I say-
  Wor. Peace Cousin, say no more.
And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke,
And to your quicke conceyuing Discontents,
Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous,
As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit,
As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud
On the vnstedfast footing of a Speare
   Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sinke or swimme:
Send danger from the East vnto the West,
So Honor crosse it from the North to South,
And let them grapple: The blood more stirres
To rowze a Lyon, then to start a Hare
   Nor. Imagination of some great exploit,
Driues him beyond the bounds of Patience
   Hot. By heauen, me thinkes it were an easie leap,
To plucke bright Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone,
Or diue into the bottome of the deepe,
Where Fadome-line could neuer touch the ground,
And plucke vp drowned Honor by the Lockes:
So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare
Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities:
But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowship
   Wor. He apprehends a World of Figures here,
But not the forme of what he should attend:
Good Cousin giue me audience for a-while,
And list to me
   Hot. I cry you mercy
   Wor. Those same Noble Scottes
That are your Prisoners
   Hot. Ile keepe them all.
By heauen, he shall not haue a Scot of them:
No, if a Scot would saue his Soule, he shall not.
Ile keepe them, by this Hand
   Wor. You start away,
And lend no eare vnto my purposes.
Those Prisoners you shall keepe
   Hot. Nay, I will: that's flat:
He said, he would not ransome Mortimer:
Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer.
But I will finde him when he lyes asleepe,
And in his eare, Ile holla Mortimer.
Nay, Ile haue a Starling shall be taught to speake
Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him,
To keepe his anger still in motion
   Wor. Heare you Cousin: a word
   Hot. All studies heere I solemnly defie,
Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke,
And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales.
But that I thinke his Father loues him not,
And would be glad he met with some mischance,
I would haue poyson'd him with a pot of Ale
   Wor. Farewell Kinsman: Ile talke to you
When you are better temper'd to attend
   Nor. Why what a Waspe-tongu'd & impatient foole
Art thou, to breake into this Womans mood,
Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne?
  Hot. Why look you, I am whipt & scourg'd with rods,
Netled, and stung with Pismires, when I heare
Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke.
In Richards time: What de'ye call the place?
A plague vpon't, it is in Gloustershire:
'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept,
His Vncle Yorke, where I first bow'd my knee
Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke:
When you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh
   Nor. At Barkley Castle
   Hot. You say true:
Why what a caudie deale of curtesie,
This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me,
Looke when his infant Fortune came to age,
And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Cousin:
O, the Diuell take such Couzeners, God forgiue me,
Good Vncle tell your tale, for I haue done
   Wor. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe,
Wee'l stay your leysure
   Hot. I haue done insooth
   Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners.
Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight,
And make the Dowglas sonne your onely meane
For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reasons
Which I shall send you written, be assur'd
Will easily be granted you, my Lord.
Your Sonne in Scotland being thus imploy'd,
Shall secretly into the bosome creepe
Of that same noble Prelate, well belou'd,
The Archbishop
   Hot. Of Yorke, is't not?
  Wor. True, who beares hard
His Brothers death at Bristow, the Lord Scroope.
I speake not this in estimation,
As what I thinke might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and set downe,
And onely stayes but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on
   Hot. I smell it:
Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well
   Nor. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip
   Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot,
And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke
To ioyne with Mortimer, Ha
   Wor. And so they shall
   Hot. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd
   Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids vs speed,
To saue our heads, by raising of a Head:
For, beare our selues as euen as we can,
The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt,
And thinke, we thinke our selues vnsatisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay vs home.
And see already, how he doth beginne
To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue
   Hot. He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him
   Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this,
Then I by Letters shall direct your course
When time is ripe, which will be sodainly:
Ile steale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer,
Where you, and Dowglas, and our powres at once,
As I will fashion it, shall happily meete,
To beare our fortunes in our owne strong armes,
Which now we hold at much vncertainty
   Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thriue, I trust
   Hot. Vncle, adieu: O let the houres be short,
Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our sport.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.
  1.Car. Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, Ile be
hang'd. Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet
our horse not packt. What Ostler?
  Ost. Anon, anon
   1.Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few
Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the withers,
out of all cesse.
Enter another Carrier.
  2.Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog,
and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes:
This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler
   1.Car. Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats
rose, it was the death of him
   2.Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al
London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench
   1.Car. Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Christendome,
could be better bit, then I haue beene since the
   2.Car. Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and
then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye
breeds Fleas like a Loach
   1.Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come
   2.Car. I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of
Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse
   1.Car. The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued.
What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in
thy head? Can'st not heare? And t'were not as good a
deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Villaine.
Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee?
Enter Gads-hill.
  Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke?
  Car. I thinke it be two a clocke
   Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding
in the stable
   1.Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two
   Gad. I prethee lend me thine
   2.Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne
(quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first
   Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come
  2.Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I
warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp
the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they
haue great charge.
Enter Chamberlaine.
  Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine?
  Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse
   Gad. That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine:
For thou variest no more from picking of Purses,
then giuing direction, doth from labouring. Thou
lay'st the plot, how
   Cham. Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds currant
that I told you yesternight. There's a Franklin in the
wilde of Kent, hath brought three hundred Markes with
him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company last
night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abundance
of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp already,
and call for Egges and Butter. They will away
   Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S[aint]. Nicholas Clarks,
Ile giue thee this necke
   Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the
Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S[aint]. Nicholas as truly
as a man of falshood may
   Gad. What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I
hang, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang,
old Sir Iohn hangs with mee, and thou know'st hee's no
Starueling. Tut, there are other Troians that y dream'st
not of, the which (for sport sake) are content to doe the
Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee
look'd into) for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole.
I am ioyned with no Foot-land-Rakers, No Long-staffe
six-penny strikers, none of these mad
Mustachio-purple-hu'd-Maltwormes,
but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie;
Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can holde in,
such as will strike sooner then speake; and speake sooner
then drinke, and drinke sooner then pray: and yet I lye,
for they pray continually vnto their Saint the Commonwealth;
or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for
they ride vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots
   Cham. What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will
she hold out water in foule way?
  Gad. She will, she will; Iustice hath liquor'd her. We
steale as in a Castle, cocksure: we haue the receit of Fernseede,
we walke inuisible
   Cham. Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding
to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking inuisible
   Gad. Giue me thy hand.
Thou shalt haue a share in our purpose,
As I am a true man
   Cham. Nay, rather let mee haue it, as you are a false
   Gad. Goe too: Homo is a common name to all men.
Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Farewell,
ye muddy Knaue.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.
  Poines. Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs
Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet
   Prin. Stand close.
Enter Falstaffe.
  Fal. Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines
   Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling
dost thou keepe
   Fal. What Poines. Hal?
  Prin. He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek
   Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that
Rascall hath remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not
where. If I trauell but foure foot by the squire further a
foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but
to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing
that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely
any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht
with the Rogues company. If the Rascall haue not giuen
me medicines to make me loue him, Ile be hang'd; it could
not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a
Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I
rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to
drinke, to turne True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I
am the veriest Varlet that euer chewed with a Tooth.
Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten miles
afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it
well enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be
true one to another.
They Whistle.
Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you
Rogues: giue me my Horse, and be hang'd
   Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare
close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of
   Fal. Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being
downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again,
for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague
meane ye to colt me thus?
  Prin. Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted
   Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse,
good Kings sonne
   Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?
  Fal. Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters:
If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not
Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of
Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote
too, I hate it.
Enter Gads-hill.
  Gad. Stand
   Fal. So I do against my will
   Poin. O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce:
Bardolfe, what newes?
  Bar. Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's
mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going
to the Kings Exchequer
   Fal. You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern
   Gad. There's enough to make vs all
   Fal. To be hang'd
   Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane:
Ned and I, will walke lower; if they scape from your encounter,
then they light on vs
   Peto. But how many be of them?
  Gad. Some eight or ten
   Fal. Will they not rob vs?
  Prin. What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch?
  Fal. Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather;
but yet no Coward, Hal
   Prin. Wee'l leaue that to the proofe
   Poin. Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg,
when thou need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell,
and stand fast
   Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd
   Prin. Ned, where are our disguises?
  Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close
   Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I:
euery man to his businesse.
Enter Trauellers
   Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses
downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our
   Theeues. Stay
   Tra. Iesu blesse vs
   Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats;
a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs
youth; downe with them, fleece them
   Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer
   Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No
ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Bacons,
on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are
Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.
Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines.
  Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now
could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London,
it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a
Moneth, and a good iest for euer
   Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming.
Enter Theeues againe.
  Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse
before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand
Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe
valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke
   Prin. Your money
   Poin. Villaines.
As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all
away, leauing the booty behind them.
  Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse:
The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly,
that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow
for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to
death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't
not for laughing, I should pitty him
   Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.
But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to
be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.
He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of
the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues
his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me
see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous.
Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to
sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of
this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The
purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named
vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole
Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition.
Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a
shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine
is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer
was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte,
good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot,
very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this?
Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the
generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now
by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan.
Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord
Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour?
Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters,
to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth?
and are they not some of them set forward already?
What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall
see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he
to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could
diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish
of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him,
let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards
Enter his Lady.
How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours
   La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence haue I this fortnight bin
A banish'd woman from my Harries bed?
Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth?
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes?
And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee,
To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly?
In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht,
And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres:
Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed,
Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd
Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents,
Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets,
Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin,
Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine,
And all the current of a headdy fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe,
That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame;
And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd,
Such as we see when men restraine their breath
On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these?
Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand,
And I must know it: else he loues me not
   Hot. What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone?
  Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone
   Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses fro[m] the Sheriffe?
  Ser. One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now
   Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not
   Ser. It is my Lord
   Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will
backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth
into the Parke
   La. But heare you, my lord
   Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?
  La. What is it carries you away?
  Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse
   La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not
such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile
know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Brother
Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent
for you to line his enterprize. But if you go-
  Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue
   La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly
vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake
thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true
   Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not,
I care not for thee Kate: this is no world
To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.
We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,
And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.
What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?
  La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?
Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,
I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?
Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no
   Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare
I loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate,
I must not haue you henceforth, question me,
Whether I go: nor reason whereabout.
Whether I must, I must: and to conclude,
This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate.
I know you wise, but yet no further wise
Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are,
But yet a woman: and for secrecie,
No Lady closer. For I will beleeue
Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know,
And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate
   La. How so farre?
  Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate,
Whither I go, thither shall you go too:
To day will I set forth, to morrow you.
Will this content you Kate?
  La. It must of force.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Prince and Poines.
  Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend
me thy hand to laugh a little
   Poines. Where hast bene Hall?
  Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3.
or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base
string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of
Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke,
and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence,
that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King
of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Falstaffe,
but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and
when I am King of England, I shall command al the good
Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dying
Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then
they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am
so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can
drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my
life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou
wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to sweeten
which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar,
clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker,
one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight
shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril
addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the
Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Falstaffe
come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome,
while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue
me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his
Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile
shew thee a President
   Poines. Francis
   Prin. Thou art perfect
   Poin. Francis.
Enter Drawer.
  Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet,
   Prince. Come hither Francis
   Fran. My Lord
   Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis?
  Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to-
  Poin. Francis
   Fran. Anon, anon sir
   Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking
of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as
to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a faire
paire of heeles, and run from it?
  Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in
England, I could finde in my heart
   Poin. Francis
   Fran. Anon, anon sir
   Prin. How old art thou, Francis?
  Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe-
  Poin. Francis
   Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord
   Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou
gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not?
  Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two
   Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske
me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it
   Poin. Francis
   Fran. Anon, anon
   Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis:
or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou
wilt. But Francis
   Fran. My Lord
   Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall
button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice
garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch
   Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane?
  Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onely
drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doublet
will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much
   Fran. What sir?
  Poin. Francis
   Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?
Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing
Enter Vintner.
  Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling?
Looke to the Guests within: My Lord, olde Sir
Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let
  Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore.
Enter Poines.
  Poin. Anon, anon sir
   Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at
the doore, shall we be merry?
  Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee,
What cunning match haue you made this iest of the
Drawer? Come, what's the issue?
  Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues
humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to
the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight.
What's a clocke Francis?
  Fran. Anon, anon sir
   Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words
then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry
is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcell
of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre
of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen
dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies
to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my
sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day?
Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres,
some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee
call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne
shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the drunkard.
Call in Ribs, call in Tallow.
Enter Falstaffe.
  Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene?
  Fal. A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance
too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere
I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend
them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of
Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant?
  Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter,
pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of
the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound
   Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there
is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet
a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A villanous
Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou
wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the
face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues
not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them
is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I
say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of
songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still
   Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mutter you?
  Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy
Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Subiects
afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer
weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales?
  Prin. Why you horson round man? what's the matter?
  Fal. Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and
Poines there?
  Prin. Ye fat paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile
   Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call
the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could
run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the
shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you
that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such backing:
giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup
of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day
   Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since
thou drunk'st last
   Falst. All's one for that.
A plague of all Cowards still, say I
   Prince. What's the matter?
  Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue
ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning
   Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it?
  Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred
vpon poore foure of vs
   Prince. What, a hundred, man?
  Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with
a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by
miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet,
foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and
through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum.
I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe.
A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake
more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes
of darknesse
   Prince. Speake sirs, how was it?
  Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen
   Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord
   Gad. And bound them
   Peto. No, no, they were not bound
   Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of
them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew
   Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men
   Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the
   Prince. What, fought yee with them all?
  Falst. All? I know not what yee call all: but if I
fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish:
if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde
Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature
   Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of
   Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd
two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues
in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a
Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde
word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues
in Buckrom let driue at me
   Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now
   Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure
   Poin. I, I, he said foure
   Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust
at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen
points in my Targuet, thus
   Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now
   Falst. In buckrom
   Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes
   Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else
   Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon
   Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal?
  Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack
   Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these
nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of
   Prin. So, two more alreadie
   Falst. Their Points being broken
   Poin. Downe fell his Hose
   Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me
close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of
the eleuen I pay'd
   Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne
  Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten
Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and
let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st
not see thy Hand
   Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them,
grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd
Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson obscene
greasie Tallow Catch
   Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the
truth, the truth?
  Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in
Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not
see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou
  Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason
   Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the
Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not
tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion?
If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would
giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I
   Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine
Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker,
this huge Hill of Flesh
   Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried
Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth
to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath
you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke
   Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and
when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare
me speake but thus
   Poin. Marke Iacke
   Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound
them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how
a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set
on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your
prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House.
And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with
as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne
and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art
thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say
it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting
hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open
and apparant shame?
  Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast
  Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare
ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant?
Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest
I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion
will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great matter.
I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of
my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion,
and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue
the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night,
pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold,
all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What,
shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory
   Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing
   Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.
Enter Hostesse
  Host. My Lord, the Prince?
  Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st
  Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the
Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee
comes from your Father
   Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall
man, and send him backe againe to my Mother
   Falst. What manner of man is hee?
  Hostesse. An old man
   Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight?
Shall I giue him his answere?
  Prin. Prethee doe Iacke
   Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing.
  Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you
Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne
away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince;
   Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne
   Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes
Sword so hackt?
  Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee
would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make
you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe
   Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse,
to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments
with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did
that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare
his monstrous deuices
   Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene
yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and
euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire
and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what
instinct hadst thou for it?
  Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you
behold these Exhalations?
  Prin. I doe
  Bard. What thinke you they portend?
  Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses
   Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken
   Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter.
Enter Falstaffe.
Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How
now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe,
Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee?
  Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres
(Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could
haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague
of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder.
There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn
Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in
the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy;
and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado,
and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true
Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a
plague call you him?
  Poin. O, Glendower
   Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law
Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly
Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a
Hill perpendicular
   Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll
kills a Sparrow flying
   Falst. You haue hit it
   Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow
   Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him,
hee will not runne
   Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him
so for running?
  Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will
not budge a foot
   Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct
   Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too,
and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more.
Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is
turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now
as cheape as stinking Mackrell
   Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this
ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as
they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds
   Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee
shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art
not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant,
could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes againe,
as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that
Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth
not thy blood thrill at it?
  Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct
   Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow,
when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me,
practise an answere
   Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee
vpon the particulars of my Life
   Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my
State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my
   Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden
Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich
Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne
   Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of
thee now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke
to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I
haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it
in King Cambyses vaine
   Prin. Well, heere is my Legge
   Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie
   Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith
   Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares
   Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance?
  Falst. For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen,
For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes
   Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry
Players, as euer I see
   Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine.
Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy
time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though
the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes;
yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares.
Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word,
partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of
thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that
doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere
lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so
poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a
Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee
askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and
take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing,
Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to
many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as
ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie
thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to
thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion;
not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet
there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy
companie, but I know not his Name
   Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie?
  Falst. A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent,
of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble
Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady)
inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his
Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen,
hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes.
If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit
by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue
in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And
tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast
thou beene this moneth?
  Prin. Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand
for mee, and Ile play my Father
   Falst. Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so
maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the
heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare
   Prin. Well, heere I am set
   Falst. And heere I stand: iudge my Masters
   Prin. Now Harry, whence come you?
  Falst. My Noble Lord, from East-cheape
   Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous
   Falst. Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle
ye for a young Prince
   Prin. Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth
ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from
Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a
fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why
do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that
Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of
Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloakebagge
of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the
Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey iniquitie,
that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? wherein
is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein
neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein
Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie?
wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy,
but in nothing?
  Falst. I would your Grace would take me with you:
whom meanes your Grace?
  Prince. That villanous abhominable mis-leader of
Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan
   Falst. My Lord, the man I know
   Prince. I know thou do'st
   Falst. But to say, I know more harme in him then in
my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde
(the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it:
but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-master,
that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault,
Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a
sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd:
if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are
to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish
Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe,
kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Falstaffe,
and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack
Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish
not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and
banish all the World
   Prince. I doe, I will.
Enter Bardolph running.
  Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most
monstrous Watch, is at the doore
   Falst. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much
to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe.
Enter the Hostesse.
  Hostesse. O, my Lord, my Lord
   Falst. Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddlesticke:
what's the matter?
  Hostesse. The Sherife and all the Watch are at the
doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let
  Falst. Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of
Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without
   Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct
   Falst. I deny your Maior: if you will deny the
Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart
as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I
hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as another
   Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest
walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and
good Conscience
   Falst. Both which I haue had: but their date is out,
and therefore Ile hide me.
  Prince. Call in the Sherife.
Enter Sherife and the Carrier.
  Prince. Now Master Sherife, what is your will with
  She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath
followed certaine men vnto this house
   Prince. What men?
  She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord,
a grosse fat man
   Car. As fat as Butter
   Prince. The man, I doe assure you, is not heere,
For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him:
And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will by to morrow Dinner time,
Send him to answere thee, or any man,
For any thing he shall be charg'd withall:
And so let me entreat you, leaue the house
   She. I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen
Haue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes
   Prince. It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable: and so farewell
   She. Good Night, my Noble Lord
   Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not?
  She. Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke.
  Prince. This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules:
goe call him forth
   Peto. Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and
snorting like a Horse
   Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his
He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth certaine Papers.
  Prince. What hast thou found?
  Peto. Nothing but Papers, my Lord
   Prince. Let's see, what be they? reade them
   Peto. Item, a Capon. ii.s.ii.d.
Item, Sawce iiii.d.
Item, Sacke, two Gallons. v.s.viii.d.
Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper. ii.s.vi.d.
Item, Bread. ob
   Prince. O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of
Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is
else, keepe close, wee'le reade it at more aduantage: there
let him sleepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning:
Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall be honorable.
Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot,
and I know his death will be a Match of Twelue-score.
The Money shall be pay'd backe againe with aduantage.
Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good morrow
   Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.
  Mort. These promises are faire, the parties sure,
And our induction full of prosperous hope
   Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,
Will you sit downe?
And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,
I haue forgot the Mappe
   Glend. No, here it is:
Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:
For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you,
His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh,
He wisheth you in Heauen
   Hotsp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower
   Glend. I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie,
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,
The frame and foundation of the Earth
Shak'd like a Coward
   Hotsp. Why so it would haue done at the same season,
if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe
had neuer beene borne
   Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne
   Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde,
If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke
   Glend. The heauens were all on fire, the Earth did
   Hotsp. Oh, then the Earth shooke
To see the Heauens on fire,
And not in feare of your Natiuitie.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth
In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth
Is with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext,
By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde
Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing,
Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe
Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,
Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature,
In passion shooke
   Glend. Cousin: of many men
I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue
To tell you once againe, that at my Birth
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:
These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,
And all the courses of my Life doe shew,
I am not in the Roll of common men.
Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,
That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,
Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,
Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,
And hold me pace in deepe experiments
   Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:
Ile to Dinner
   Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad
   Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe
   Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man:
But will they come, when you doe call for them?
  Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the
   Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,
By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.
If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither,
And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence.
Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill
   Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable
   Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head
Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,
And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent him
Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe
   Hotsp. Home without Bootes,
And in foule Weather too,
How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?
  Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe:
Shall wee diuide our Right,
According to our three-fold order ta'ne?
  Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it
Into three Limits, very equally:
England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto,
By South and East, is to my part assign'd:
All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore,
And all the fertile Land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to you
The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.
And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne:
Which being sealed enterchangeably,
(A Businesse that this Night may execute)
To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,
And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power,
As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.
My Father Glendower is not readie yet,
Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes:
Within that space, you may haue drawne together
Your Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen
   Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, Lords:
And in my Conduct shall your Ladies come,
From whom you now must steale, and take no leaue,
For there will be a World of Water shed,
Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you
   Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here,
In quantitie equals not one of yours:
See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my Land,
A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out.
Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp,
And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne,
In a new Channell, faire and euenly:
It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,
To rob me of so rich a Bottome here
   Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth
   Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course,
And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposed Continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you
   Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,
And on this North side winne this Cape of Land,
And then he runnes straight and euen
   Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it
   Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd
   Hotsp. Will not you?
  Glend. No, nor you shall not
   Hotsp. Who shall say me nay?
  Glend. Why, that will I
   Hotsp. let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in
   Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you:
For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court;
Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe
Many an English Dittie, louely well,
And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament;
A Vertue that was neuer seene in you
   Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:
I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,
And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;
'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge
   Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd
   Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land
To any well-deseruing friend;
But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,
Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.
Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?
  Glend. The Moone shines faire,
You may away by Night:
Ile haste the Writer; and withall,
Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence:
I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
  Mort. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father
   Hotsp. I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,
Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;
And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,
A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen,
A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat,
And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,
As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,
He held me last Night, at least, nine howres,
In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names,
That were his Lacqueyes:
I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,
But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious
As a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife,
Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue
With Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre,
Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me,
In any Summer-House in Christendome
   Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,
Exceeding well read, and profited,
In strange Concealements:
Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,
And as Bountifull, as Mynes of India.
Shall I tell you, Cousin,
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope,
When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does.
I warrant you, that man is not aliue,
Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done,
Without the taste of danger, and reproofe:
But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you
   Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame,
And since your comming hither, haue done enough,
To put him quite besides his patience.
You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood,
And that's the dearest grace it renders you;
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage,
Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment,
Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine:
The least of which, haunting a Nobleman,
Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne
Vpon the beautie of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation
   Hotsp. Well, I am school'd:
Good-manners be your speede;
Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue.
Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.
  Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me,
My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh
   Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you,
Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres
   Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy
Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.
Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the
  Glend. Shee is desperate heere:
A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,
One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.
The Lady speakes in Welsh.
  Mort. I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty Welsh
Which thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens,
I am too perfect in: and but for shame,
In such a parley should I answere thee.
The Lady againe in welsh.
  Mort. I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,
Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
With rauishing Diuision to her Lute
   Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.
The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.
  Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this
   Glend. She bids you,
On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,
And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe,
And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you,
And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse;
Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,
As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme
Begins his Golden Progresse in the East
   Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing:
By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne
   Glend. Doe so:
And those Musitians that shall play to you,
Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence;
And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend
   Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:
Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy
   Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.
The Musicke playes.
  Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,
And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous:
Byrlady hee's a good Musitian
   Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall,
For you are altogether gouerned by humors:
Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh
   Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in
   Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?
   Lady. Then be still
   Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault
   Lady. Now God helpe thee
   Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed
   Lady. What's that?
  Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.
Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.
  Hotsp. Come, Ile haue your Song too
   Lady. Not mine, in good sooth
   Hotsp. Not yours, in good sooth?
You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:
Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue;
And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day:
And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes,
As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury.
Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth,
And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,
To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.
   Lady. I will not sing
   Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest
teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away
within these two howres: and so come in, when yee
  Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow,
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe.
By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale,
And then to Horse immediately
   Mort. With all my heart.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.
  King. Lords, giue vs leaue:
The Prince of Wales, and I,
Must haue some priuate conference:
But be neere at hand,
For wee shall presently haue neede of you.
Exeunt. Lords.
I know not whether Heauen will haue it so,
For some displeasing seruice I haue done;
That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood,
Hee'le breede Reuengement, and a Scourge for me:
But thou do'st in thy passages of Life,
Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd
For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauen
To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate and low desires,
Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude societie,
As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too,
Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood,
And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart?
  Prince. So please your Maiesty, I would I could
Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,
As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge
My selfe of many I am charg'd withall:
Yet such extenuation let me begge,
As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd,
Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare,
By smiling Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers;
I may for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faultie wandred, and irregular,
Finde pardon on my true submission
   King. Heauen pardon thee:
Yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the Court and Princes of my blood.
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man
Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall.
Had I so lauish of my presence beene,
So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheape to vulgar Company;
Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne,
Had still kept loyall to possession,
And left me in reputelesse banishment,
A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood.
By being seldome seene, I could not stirre,
But like a Comet, I was wondred at,
That men would tell their Children, This is hee:
Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke.
And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen,
And drest my selfe in such Humilitie,
That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts,
Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes,
Euen in the presence of the Crowned King.
Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new,
My Presence like a Robe Pontificall,
Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State,
Seldome but sumptuous, shewed like a Feast,
And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie.
The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe,
With shallow Iesters, and rash Bauin Wits,
Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his state,
Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles,
Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes,
And gaue his Countenance, against his Name,
To laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the push
Of euery Beardlesse vaine Comparatiue;
Grew a Companion to the common Streetes,
Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie:
That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes,
They surfeted with Honey, and began to loathe
The taste of Sweetnesse, whereof a little
More then a little, is by much too much.
So when he had occasion to be seene,
He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune,
Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes,
As sicke and blunted with Communitie,
Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze,
Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie,
When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe,
Slept in his Face, and rendred such aspect
As Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries,
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou:
For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge,
With vile participation. Not an Eye
But is awearie of thy common sight,
Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more:
Which now doth that I would not haue it doe,
Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse
   Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord,
Be more my selfe
   King. For all the World,
As thou art to this houre, was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh;
And euen as I was then, is Percy now:
Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the State
Then thou, the shadow of Succession;
For of no Right, nor colour like to Right.
He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme,
Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes;
And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou,
Leades ancient Lords, and reuerent Bishops on
To bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes.
What neuer-dying Honor hath he got,
Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes,
Whose hot Incursions, and great Name in Armes,
Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie,
And Militarie Title Capitall.
Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ,
Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes,
This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises,
Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp,
And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against vs, and are vp.
But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee?
Why, Harry, doe I tell thee of my Foes,
Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie?
Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare,
Base Inclination, and the start of Spleene,
To fight against me vnder Percies pay,
To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes,
To shew how much thou art degenerate
   Prince. Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so:
And Heauen forgiue them, that so much haue sway'd
Your Maiesties good thoughts away from me:
I will redeeme all this on Percies head,
And in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne,
When I will weare a Garment all of Blood,
And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske:
Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, when ere it lights,
That this same Child of Honor and Renowne.
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight.
And your vnthought-of Harry chance to meet:
For euery Honor sitting on his Helme,
Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled. For the time will come,
That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchange
His glorious Deedes for my Indignities:
Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord,
To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe:
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render euery Glory vp,
Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time,
Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart.
This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here:
The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue,
I doe beseech your Maiestie, may salue
The long-growne Wounds of my intemperature:
If not, the end of Life cancells all Bands,
And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths,
Ere breake the smallest parcell of this Vow
   King. A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this:
Thou shalt haue Charge, and soueraigne trust herein.
Enter Blunt.
How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed
   Blunt. So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Dowglas and the English Rebels met
The eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury:
A mightie and a fearefull Head they are,
(If Promises be kept on euery hand)
As euer offered foule play in a State
   King. The earle of Westmerland set forth to day:
With him my sonne, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old.
On Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward:
On thursday, wee our selues will march.
Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march
Through Glocestershire: by which account,
Our Businesse valued some twelue dayes hence,
Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete.
Our Hands are full of Businesse: let's away,
Aduantage feedes him fat, while men delay.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
  Falst. Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this
last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why
my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose
Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well,
Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking:
I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no
strength to repent. And i haue not forgotten what the
in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper-Corne, a
Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villanous
Company hath beene the spoyle of me
   Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue
   Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song,
make me merry; I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman
need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not
aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not
aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I
borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good
compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of compasse
   Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must
needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable
compasse, Sir Iohn
   Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy
Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne
in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the
Knight of the burning Lampe
   Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme
   Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as
many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori.
I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues
that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning,
burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would
sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire:
But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede,
but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse.
When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to
catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene
an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase
in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting
Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand
Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the
Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that
thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as
good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue
maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time
this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it
   Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly
   Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd.
Enter Hostesse.
How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet
who pick'd my Pocket?
  Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn?
doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue
search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by
Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a
hayre was neuer lost in my house before
   Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost
many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd:
goe to, you are a Woman, goe
   Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so
in mine owne house before
   Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough
   Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn:
I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and
now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought
you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe
   Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them
away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of
   Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight
shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn,
for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you,
foure and twentie pounds
   Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay
   Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing
   Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call
you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his
Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a
Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne,
but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring
of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke
   Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not
how oft, that that Ring was Copper
   Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe:
and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge,
if hee would say so.
Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his
Trunchion like a Fife.
  Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore?
Must we all march?
  Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion
   Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me
   Prince. What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How
does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest
   Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee
   Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee
   Prince. What say'st thou, Iacke?
  Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the
Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd
Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets
   Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke?
  Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds
of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers
   Prince. A Trifle, some eight-penny matter
   Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your
Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of
you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee
would cudgell you
   Prince. What hee did not?
  Host. There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood
   Falst. There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune;
nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for
Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife
of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go
   Host. Say, what thing? what thing?
  Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on
   Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou
shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting
thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so
   Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast
to say otherwise
   Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou?
  Fal. What beast? Why an Otter
   Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter?
  Fal. Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes
not where to haue her
   Host. Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie
man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou
   Prince. Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee
most grossely
   Host. So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other
day, You ought him a thousand pound
   Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
  Falst. A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is
worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue
   Host. Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee
would cudgell you
   Fal. Did I, Bardolph?
  Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so
   Fal. Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper
   Prince. I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as
thy word now?
  Fal. Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I
dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the
roaring of the Lyons Whelpe
   Prince. And why not as the Lyon?
  Fal. The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon:
Do'st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay
if I do, let my Girdle breake
   Prin. O, if it should, how would thy guttes fall about
thy knees. But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth,
nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe
with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman
with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent
imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but
Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses,
and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee
long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with anie other
iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will
stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not
  Fal. Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state
of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke
Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue
more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty.
You confesse then you pickt my Pocket?
  Prin. It appeares so by the Story
   Fal. Hostesse, I forgiue thee:
Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband,
Looke to thy Seruants, and cherish thy Guests:
Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason:
Thou seest, I am pacified still.
Nay, I prethee be gone.
Exit Hostesse.
Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad?
How is that answered?
  Prin. O my sweet Beefe:
I must still be good Angell to thee.
The Monie is paid backe againe
   Fal. O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double
   Prin. I am good Friends with my Father, and may do
   Fal. Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st,
and do it with vnwash'd hands too
   Bard. Do my Lord
   Prin. I haue procured thee Iacke, A Charge of Foot
   Fal. I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde
one that can steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and
twentie, or thereabout: I am heynously vnprouided. Wel
God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but
the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them
   Prin. Bardolph
   Bar. My Lord
   Prin. Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster
To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland,
Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I,
Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
Iacke, meet me tomorrow in the Temple Hall
At two a clocke in the afternoone,
There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue
Money and Order for their Furniture.
The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye,
And either they, or we must lower lye
   Fal. Rare words! braue world.
Hostesse, my breakfast, come:
Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas.
  Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth
In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie,
Such attribution should the Dowglas haue,
As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe,
Should go so generall currant through the world.
By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie
The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place
In my hearts loue, hath no man then your Selfe.
Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord
   Dow. Thou art the King of Honor:
No man so potent breathes vpon the ground,
But I will Beard him.
Enter a Messenger.
  Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What letters hast there?
I can but thanke you
   Mess. These Letters come from your Father
   Hot. Letters from him?
Why comes he not himselfe?
  Mes. He cannot come, my Lord,
He is greeuous sicke
   Hot. How? haz he the leysure to be sicke now,
In such a iustling time? Who leades his power?
Vnder whose Gouernment come they along?
  Mess. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde
   Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?
  Mess. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth:
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his Physician
   Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole,
Ere he by sicknesse had beene visited:
His health was neuer better worth then now
   Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect
The very Life-blood of our Enterprise,
'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe.
He writes me here, that inward sicknesse,
And that his friends by deputation
Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet,
To lay so dangerous and deare a trust
On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne.
Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,
That with our small coniunction we should on,
To see how Fortune is dispos'd to vs:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the King is certainely possest
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
  Wor. Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs
   Hotsp. A perillous Gash, a very Limme lopt off:
And yet, in faith, it is not his present want
Seemes more then we shall finde it.
Were it good, to set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one Cast? To set so rich a mayne
On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre,
It were not good: for therein should we reade
The very Bottome, and the Soule of Hope,
The very List, the very vtmost Bound
Of all our fortunes
   Dowg. Faith, and so wee should,
Where now remaines a sweet reuersion.
We may boldly spend, vpon the hope
Of what is to come in:
A comfort of retyrement liues in this
   Hotsp. A Randeuous, a Home to flye vnto,
If that the Deuill and Mischance looke bigge
Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires
   Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here:
The qualitie and Heire of our Attempt
Brookes no diuision: It will be thought
By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisedome, loyaltie, and meere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the Earle from hence.
And thinke, how such an apprehension
May turne the tyde of fearefull Faction,
And breede a kinde of question in our cause:
For well you know, wee of the offring side,
Must keepe aloofe from strict arbitrement,
And stop all sight-holes, euery loope, from whence
The eye of reason may prie in vpon vs:
This absence of your Father drawes a Curtaine,
That shewes the ignorant a kinde of feare,
Before not dreamt of
   Hotsp. You strayne too farre.
I rather of his absence make this vse:
It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion,
A larger Dare to your great Enterprize,
Then if the Earle were here: for men must thinke,
If we without his helpe, can make a Head
To push against the Kingdome; with his helpe,
We shall o're-turne it topsie-turuy downe:
Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole
   Dowg. As heart can thinke:
There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland,
At this Dreame of Feare.
Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
  Hotsp. My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule
   Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord.
The Earle of Westmerland, seuen thousand strong,
Is marching hither-wards, with Prince Iohn
   Hotsp. No harme: what more?
  Vern. And further, I haue learn'd,
The King himselfe in person hath set forth,
Or hither-wards intended speedily,
With strong and mightie preparation
   Hotsp. He shall be welcome too.
Where is his Sonne,
The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales,
And his Cumrades, that daft the World aside,
And bid it passe?
  Vern. All furnisht, all in Armes,
All plum'd like Estridges, that with the Winde
Bayted like Eagles, hauing lately bath'd,
Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images,
As full of spirit as the Moneth of May,
And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-summer,
Wanton as youthfull Goates, wilde as young Bulls.
I saw young Harry with his Beuer on,
His Cushes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd,
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his Seat,
As if an Angell dropt downe from the Clouds,
To turne and winde a fierie Pegasus,
And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship
   Hotsp. No more, no more,
Worse then the Sunne in March:
This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come.
They come like Sacrifices in their trimme,
And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre,
All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them:
The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit
Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,
To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh,
And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse,
Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt,
Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse
Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse?
Oh, that Glendower were come
   Ver. There is more newes:
I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes
   Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of
   Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound
   Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach
  Ver. To thirty thousand
   Hot. Forty let it be,
My Father and Glendower being both away,
The powres of vs, may serue so great a day.
Come, let vs take a muster speedily:
Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily
   Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare
Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare.
Exeunt. Omnes.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.
  Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a
Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le
to Sutton-cop-hill to Night
   Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine?
  Falst. Lay out, lay out
   Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell
   Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it
make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage.
Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end
   Bard. I will Captaine: farewell.
  Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a
sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse damnably.
I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie
Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me
none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire
me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd
twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues,
as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as
feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole,
or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes
and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then
Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices:
And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Corporals,
Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as
ragged a Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Gluttons
Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were
neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, younger
Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and
Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and
long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged,
then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the
roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that
you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd
Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating
Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way,
and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the
dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile
not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay,
and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if
they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them
out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my
Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt together,
and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds
Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth,
stolne from my Host of S[aint]. Albones, or the Red-Nose
Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde
Linnen enough on euery Hedge.
Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.
  Prince. How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt?
  Falst. What Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill
do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmerland,
I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had already
beene at Shrewsbury
   West. 'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were
there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie.
The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away
all to Night
   Falst. Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to
steale Creame
   Prince. I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft
hath alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose
fellowes are these that come after?
  Falst. Mine, Hal, mine
   Prince. I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals
   Falst. Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Powder,
foode for Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better:
tush man, mortall men, mortall men
   Westm. I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding
poore and bare, too beggarly
   Falst. Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they
had that; and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer
learn'd that of me
   Prince. No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers
on the Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already
in the field
   Falst. What, is the King encamp'd?
  Westm. Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too
   Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning
of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.
  Hotsp. Wee'le fight with him to Night
   Worc. It may not be
   Dowg. You giue him then aduantage
   Vern. Not a whit
   Hotsp. Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?
  Vern. So doe wee
   Hotsp. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull
   Worc. Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night
   Vern. Doe not, my Lord
   Dowg. You doe not counsaile well:
You speake it out of feare, and cold heart
   Vern. Doe me no slander, Dowglas: by my Life,
And I dare well maintaine it with my Life,
If well-respected Honor bid me on,
I hold as little counsaile with weake feare,
As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day liues.
Let it be seene to morrow in the Battell,
Which of vs feares
   Dowg. Yea, or to night
   Vern. Content
   Hotsp. To night, say I
   Vern. Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being me[n] of such great leading as you are
That you fore-see not what impediments
Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horse
Of my Cousin Vernons are not yet come vp,
Your Vnckle Worcesters Horse came but to day,
And now their pride and mettall is asleepe,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a Horse is halfe the halfe of himselfe
   Hotsp. So are the Horses of the Enemie
In generall iourney bated, and brought low:
The better part of ours are full of rest
   Worc. The number of the King exceedeth ours:
For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in.
The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.
  Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect
   Hotsp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt:
And would to God you were of our determination.
Some of vs loue you well: and euen those some
Enuie your great deseruings, and good name,
Because you are not of our qualitie,
But stand against vs like an Enemie
   Blunt. And Heauen defend, but still I should stand so,
So long as out of Limit, and true Rule,
You stand against anoynted Maiestie.
But to my Charge.
The King hath sent to know
The nature of your Griefes, and whereupon
You coniure from the Brest of Ciuill Peace,
Such bold Hostilitie, teaching his dutious Land
Audacious Crueltie. If that the King
Haue any way your good Deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,
He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed
You shall haue your desires, with interest;
And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these,
Herein mis-led, by your suggestion
   Hotsp. The King is kinde:
And well wee know, the King
Knowes at what time to promise, when to pay.
My Father, my Vnckle, and my selfe,
Did giue him that same Royaltie he weares:
And when he was not sixe and twentie strong,
Sicke in the Worlds regard, wretched, and low,
A poore vnminded Out-law, sneaking home,
My Father gaue him welcome to the shore:
And when he heard him sweare, and vow to God,
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
To sue his Liuerie, and begge his Peace,
With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale;
My Father, in kinde heart and pitty mou'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realme
Perceiu'd Northumberland did leane to him,
The more and lesse came in with Cap and Knee,
Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages,
Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes,
Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes,
Gaue him their Heires, as Pages followed him,
Euen at the heeles, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as Greatnesse knowes it selfe,
Step me a little higher then his Vow
Made to my Father, while his blood was poore,
Vpon the naked shore at Rauenspurgh:
And now (forsooth) takes on him to reforme
Some certaine Edicts, and some strait Decrees,
That lay too heauie on the Common-wealth;
Cryes out vpon abuses, seemes to weepe
Ouer his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face,
This seeming Brow of Iustice, did he winne
The hearts of all that hee did angle for.
Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads
Of all the Fauorites, that the absent King
In deputation left behinde him heere,
When hee was personall in the Irish Warre
   Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this
   Hotsp. Then to the point.
In short time after, hee depos'd the King.
Soone after that, depriu'd him of his Life:
And in the neck of that, task't the whole State.
To make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March,
Who is, if euery Owner were plac'd,
Indeede his King, to be engag'd in Wales,
There, without Ransome, to lye forfeited:
Disgrac'd me in my happie Victories,
Sought to intrap me by intelligence,
Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord,
In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court,
Broke Oath on Oath, committed Wrong on Wrong,
And in conclusion, droue vs to seeke out
This Head of safetie; and withall, to prie
Into his Title: the which wee finde
Too indirect, for long continuance
   Blunt. Shall I returne this answer to the King?
  Hotsp. Not so, Sir Walter.
Wee'le with-draw a while:
Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some suretie for a safe returne againe,
And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle
Bring him our purpose: and so farewell
   Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Loue
   Hotsp. And't may be, so wee shall
   Blunt. Pray Heauen you doe.
Scena Quarta.
Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.
  Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this sealed Briefe
With winged haste to the Lord Marshall,
This to my Cousin Scroope, and all the rest
To whom they are directed.
If you knew how much they doe import,
You would make haste
   Sir Mich. My good Lord, I guesse their tenor
   Arch. Like enough you doe.
To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly giuen to vnderstand,
The King, with mightie and quick-raysed Power,
Meetes with Lord Harry: and I feare, Sir Michell,
What with the sicknesse of Northumberland,
Whose Power was in the first proportion;
And what with Owen Glendowers absence thence,
Who with them was rated firmely too,
And comes not in, ouer-rul'd by Prophecies,
I feare the Power of Percy is too weake,
To wage an instant tryall with the King
   Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, you need not feare,
There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer
   Arch. No, Mortimer is not there
   Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy,
And there is my Lord of Worcester,
And a Head of gallant Warriors,
Noble Gentlemen
   Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath Drawne
The speciall head of all the Land together:
The Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster,
The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt;
And many moe Corriuals, and deare men
Of estimation, and command in Armes
   Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd
  Arch. I hope no lesse? Yet needfull 'tis to feare,
And to preuent the worst, Sir Michell speed;
For if Lord Percy thriue not, ere the King
Dismisse his power, he meanes to visit vs:
For he hath heard of our Confederacie,
And, 'tis but Wisedome to make strong against him:
Therefore make hast, I must go write againe
To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michell.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaffe.
  King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere
Aboue yon busky hill: the day lookes pale
At his distemperature
  Prin. The Southerne winde
Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes,
And by his hollow whistling in the Leaues,
Fortels a Tempest, and a blust'ring day
   King. Then with the losers let it sympathize,
For nothing can seeme foule to those that win.
The Trumpet sounds.
Enter Worcester.
  King. How now my Lord of Worster? 'Tis not well
That you and I should meet vpon such tearmes,
As now we meet. You haue deceiu'd our trust,
And made vs doffe our easie Robes of Peace,
To crush our old limbes in vngentle Steele:
This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.
What say you to it? Will you againe vnknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred Warre?
And moue in the obedient Orbe againe,
Where you did giue a faire and naturall light,
And be no more an exhall'd Meteor,
A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent
Of broached Mischeefe, to the vnborne Times?
  Wor. Heare me, my Liege:
For mine owne part, I could be well content
To entertaine the Lagge-end of my life
With quiet houres: For I do protest,
I haue not sought the day of this dislike
   King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then?
  Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it
   Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace
   Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookes
Of Fauour, from my Selfe, and all our House;
And yet I must remember you my Lord,
We were the first, and dearest of your Friends:
For you, my staffe of Office did I breake
In Richards time, and poasted day and night
To meete you on the way, and kisse your hand,
When yet you were in place, and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I;
It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
The danger of the time. You swore to vs,
And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State,
Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right,
The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster,
To this, we sware our aide: But in short space,
It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your head,
And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you,
What with our helpe, what with the absent King.
What with the iniuries of wanton time,
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
And the contrarious Windes that held the King
So long in the vnlucky Irish Warres,
That all in England did repute him dead:
And from this swarme of faire aduantages,
You tooke occasion to be quickly woo'd,
To gripe the generall sway into your hand,
Forgot your Oath to vs at Doncaster,
And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so,
As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird,
Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our Nest
Grew by our Feeding, to so great a builke,
That euen our Loue durst not come neere your sight
For feare of swallowing: But with nimble wing
We were infor'd for safety sake, to flye
Out of your sight, and raise this present Head,
Whereby we stand opposed by such meanes
As you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe,
By vnkinde vsage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworne to vs in yonger enterprize
   Kin. These things indeed you haue articulated,
Proclaim'd at Market Crosses, read in Churches,
To face the Garment of Rebellion
With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle Changelings, and poore Discontents,
Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes
Of hurly burly Innouation:
And neuer yet did Insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause:
Nor moody Beggars, staruing for a time
Of pell-mell hauocke, and confusion
   Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a soule
Shall pay full dearely for this encounter,
If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your Nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the world
In praise of Henry Percie: By my Hopes,
This present enterprize set off his head,
I do not thinke a brauer Gentleman,
More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong,
More daring, or more bold, is now aliue,
To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds.
For my part, I may speake it to my shame,
I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry,
And so I heare, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty,
I am content that he shall take the oddes
Of his great name and estimation,
And will, to saue the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him, in a Single Fight
   King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee,
Albeit, considerations infinite
Do make against it: No good Worster, no,
We loue our people well; euen those we loue
That are misled vpon your Cousins part:
And will they take the offer of our Grace:
Both he, and they, and you; yea euery man
Shall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his.
So tell your Cousin, and bring me word,
What he will do. But if he will not yeeld,
Rebuke and dread correction waite on vs,
And they shall do their Office. So bee gone,
We will not now be troubled with reply,
We offer faire, take it aduisedly.
Exit Worcester.
  Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life,
The Dowglas and the Hotspurre both together,
Are confident against the world in Armes
   King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge,
For on their answer will we set on them;
And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.
Manet Prince and Falstaffe.
  Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell,
And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship
   Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendship
Say thy prayers, and farewell
   Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well
   Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death
   Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him
before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him,
that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes
me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come
on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an
arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No.
Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour
A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A
trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday.
Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it
insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with
the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, therfore
Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so
ends my Catechisme.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.
  Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
The liberall kinde offer of the King
   Ver. 'Twere best he did
   Wor. Then we are all vndone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The King would keepe his word in louing vs,
He will suspect vs still, and finde a time
To punish this offence in others faults:
Supposition, all our liues, shall be stucke full of eyes;
For Treason is but trusted like the Foxe,
Who ne're so tame, so cherisht, and lock'd vp,
Will haue a wilde tricke of his Ancestors:
Looke how he can, or sad or merrily,
Interpretation will misquote our lookes,
And we shall feede like Oxen at a stall,
The better cherisht, still the nearer death.
My Nephewes Trespasse may be well forgot,
It hath the excuse of youth, and heate of blood,
And an adopted name of Priuiledge,
A haire-brain'd Hotspurre, gouern'd by a Spleene:
All his offences liue vpon my head,
And on his Fathers. We did traine him on,
And his corruption being tane from vs,
We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all:
Therefore good Cousin, let not Harry know
In any case, the offer of the King
   Ver. Deliuer what you will, Ile say 'tis so.
Heere comes your Cosin.
Enter Hotspurre.
  Hot. My Vnkle is return'd,
Deliuer vp my Lord of Westmerland.
Vnkle, what newes?
  Wor. The King will bid you battell presently
   Dow. Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland
  Hot. Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so
   Dow. Marry and shall, and verie willingly.
Exit Dowglas.
  Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King
   Hot. Did you begge any? God forbid
   Wor. I told him gently of our greeuances,
Of his Oath-breaking: which he mended thus,
By now forswearing that he is forsworne,
He cals vs Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge
With haughty armes, this hatefull name in vs.
Enter Dowglas.
  Dow. Arme Gentlemen, to Armes, for I haue thrown
A braue defiance in King Henries teeth:
And Westmerland that was ingag'd did beare it,
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on
   Wor. The Prince of Wales stept forth before the king,
And Nephew, challeng'd you to single fight
   Hot. O, would the quarrell lay vpon our heads,
And that no man might draw short breath to day,
But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell mee,
How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt?
  Ver. No, by my Soule: I neuer in my life
Did heare a Challenge vrg'd more modestly,
Vnlesse a Brother should a Brother dare
To gentle exercise, and proofe of Armes.
He gaue you all the Duties of a Man,
Trimm'd vp your praises with a Princely tongue,
Spoke your deseruings like a Chronicle,
Making you euer better then his praise,
By still dispraising praise, valew'd with you:
And which became him like a Prince indeed,
He made a blushing citall of himselfe,
And chid his Trewant youth with such a Grace,
As if he mastred there a double spirit
Of teaching, and of learning instantly:
There did he pause. But let me tell the World,
If he out-liue the enuie of this day,
England did neuer owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his Wantonnesse,
  Hot. Cousin, I thinke thou art enamored
On his Follies: neuer did I heare
Of any Prince so wilde at Liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once ere night,
I will imbrace him with a Souldiers arme,
That he shall shrinke vnder my curtesie.
Arme, arme with speed. And Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends,
Better consider what you haue to do,
That I that haue not well the gift of Tongue,
Can lift your blood vp with perswasion.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you
   Hot. I cannot reade them now.
O Gentlemen, the time of life is short;
To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long.
If life did ride vpon a Dials point,
Still ending at the arriuall of an houre,
And if we liue, we liue to treade on Kings:
If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs.
Now for our Consciences, the Armes is faire,
When the intent for bearing them is iust.
Enter another Messenger.
  Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace
   Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale:
For I professe not talking: Onely this,
Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword,
Whose worthy temper I intend to staine
With the best blood that I can meete withall,
In the aduenture of this perillous day.
Now Esperance Percy, and set on:
Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre,
And by that Musicke, let vs all imbrace:
For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall,
A second time do such a curtesie.
They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth with his
power, alarum
vnto the battell. Then enter Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.
  Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus y crossest me?
What honor dost thou seeke vpon my head?
  Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas,
And I do haunt thee in the Battell thus,
Because some tell me, that thou art a King
   Blunt. They tell thee true
   Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath bought
Thy likenesse: for insted of thee King Harry,
This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee,
Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner
   Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot,
And thou shalt finde a King that will reuenge
Lords Staffords death.
Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.
  Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus
I neuer had triumphed o're a Scot
   Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king
  Hot. Where?
  Dow. Heere
   Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well:
A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe
   Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes,
A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere.
Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King?
  Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats
   Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates,
Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece,
Vntill I meet the King
   Hot. Vp, and away,
Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.
Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.
  Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear
the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft
who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you:
here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as heauy
too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more
weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of
Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my
150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg during
life. But who comes heere?
Enter the Prince
   Pri. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword,
Many a Nobleman lies starke and stiffe
Vnder the hooues of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy sword
  Fal. O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile:
Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I haue
done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure
   Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee:
I prethee lend me thy sword
   Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my
Sword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt
   Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the case?
  Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.
The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke.
  Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.
Throwes it at him.
  Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile pierce him: if he do come in
my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let
him make a Carbonado of me. I like not such grinning
honour as Sir Walter hath: Giue mee life, which if I can
saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an
Scena Tertia.
Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince, Lord Iohn of
and Earle of Westmerland.
  King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou bleedest
too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him
   P.Ioh. Not I, My Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too
   Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp,
Least your retirement do amaze your friends
   King. I will do so:
My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent
   West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent
   Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe;
And heauen forbid a shallow scratch should driue
The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on,
And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres
   Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland,
Our duty this way lies, for heauens sake come
   Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster,
I did not thinke thee Lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn;
But now, I do respect thee as my Soule
   King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance then I did looke for
Of such an vngrowne Warriour
   Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all.
Enter Dowglas.
  Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads:
I am the Dowglas, fatall to all those
That weare those colours on them. What art thou
That counterfeit'st the person of a King?
  King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at hart
So many of his shadowes thou hast met,
And not the very King. I haue two Boyes
Seeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field:
But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee: so defend thy selfe
   Dow. I feare thou art another counterfeit:
And yet infaith thou bear'st thee like a King:
But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be,
And thus I win thee.
They fight, the K[ing]. being in danger, Enter Prince.
  Prin. Hold vp thy head vile Scot, or thou art like
Neuer to hold it vp againe: the Spirits
Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Armes;
it is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee,
Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay.
They Fight, Dowglas flyeth.
Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace?
Sir Nicolas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton straight
   King. Stay, and breath awhile.
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion,
And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life
In this faire rescue thou hast brought to mee
   Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniury,
That euer said I hearkned to your death.
If it were so, I might haue let alone
The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you,
Which would haue bene as speedy in your end,
As all the poysonous Potions in the world,
And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne
   K. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.
Enter Hotspur.
  Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth
   Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name
   Hot. My name is Harrie Percie
   Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name.
I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy,
To share with me in glory any more:
Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere,
Nor can one England brooke a double reigne,
Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales
   Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come
To end the one of vs; and would to heauen,
Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine
   Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee,
And all the budding Honors on thy Crest,
Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head
   Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.
Enter Falstaffe.
  Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no
Boyes play heere, I can tell you.
Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if he
The Prince killeth Percie.
  Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth:
I better brooke the losse of brittle life,
Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me,
They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh:
But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole;
And Time, that takes suruey of all the world,
Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie,
But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death,
Lyes on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dust
And food for-
  Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart:
Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke?
When that this bodie did containe a spirit,
A Kingdome for it was too small a bound:
But now two paces of the vilest Earth
Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead,
Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman.
If thou wer't sensible of curtesie,
I should not make so great a shew of Zeale.
But let my fauours hide thy mangled face,
And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe
For doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heauen,
Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue,
But not remembred in thy Epitaph.
What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh
Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell:
I could haue better spar'd a better man.
O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee,
If I were much in loue with Vanity.
Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day,
Though many dearer in this bloody Fray:
Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by,
Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye.
Falstaffe riseth vp.
  Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile
giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow.
'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot,
had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit;
to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the
counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But
to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be
no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeede.
The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the
which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of
this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee
should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would
proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure:
yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as
well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie
sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh
come you along me.
Takes Hotspurre on his backe.
Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.
  Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht
thy Maiden sword
   Iohn. But soft, who haue we heere?
Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead?
  Prin. I did, I saw him dead,
Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue?
Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight?
I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes
Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st
   Fal. No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but
if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Percy,
if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him
kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or
Duke, I can assure you
   Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead
   Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen
to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of breath,
and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought
a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee beleeued,
so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare
the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death
I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were aliue,
and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece
   Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard
   Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn.
Come bring your luggage Nobly on your backe:
For my part, if a lye may do thee grace,
Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.
A Retreat is sounded.
The Trumpets sound Retreat, the day is ours:
Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field,
To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead.
  Fal. Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards
me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again,
Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue
cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.
Scaena Quarta.
The Trumpets sound.
Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of
Westmerland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners.
  King. Thus euer did Rebellion finde Rebuke.
Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace,
Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you?
And would'st thou turne our offers contrary?
Misuse the tenor of thy Kinsmans trust?
Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day,
A Noble Earle, and many a creature else,
Had beene aliue this houre,
If like a Christian thou had'st truly borne
Betwixt our Armies, true Intelligence
   Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to,
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee
   King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too:
Other offenders we will pause vpon.
Exit Worcester and Vernon.
How goes the Field?
  Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men,
Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest;
And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'd
That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent
The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace,
I may dispose of him
   King. With all my heart
   Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster,
To you this honourable bounty shall belong:
Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer him
Vp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free:
His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day,
Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds,
Euen in the bosome of our Aduersaries
   King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power.
You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin Westmerland
Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speed
To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope,
Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes.
My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower, and the Earle of March.
Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way,
Meeting the Checke of such another day:
And since this Businesse so faire is done,
Let vs not leaue till all our owne be wonne.
FINIS. The First Part of Henry the Fourth, with the Life and Death
HENRY Sirnamed HOT-SPVRRE.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Merry Wiues of Windsor
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter Iustice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Euans, Master Page,
Bardolph, Nym, Pistoll, Anne Page, Mistresse Ford, Mistresse
Page, Simple.
  Shallow. Sir Hugh, perswade me not: I will make a StarChamber
matter of it, if hee were twenty Sir
Iohn Falstoffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow
   Slen. In the County of Glocester, Iustice of Peace and Coram
   Shal. I (Cosen Slender) and Custalorum
   Slen. I, and Ratolorum too; and a Gentleman borne
(Master Parson) who writes himselfe Armigero, in any
Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or Obligation, Armigero
   Shal. I that I doe, and haue done any time these three
hundred yeeres
   Slen. All his successors (gone before him) hath don't:
and all his Ancestors (that come after him) may: they
may giue the dozen white Luces in their Coate
   Shal. It is an olde Coate
   Euans. The dozen white Lowses doe become an old
Coat well: it agrees well passant: It is a familiar beast to
man, and signifies Loue
   Shal. The Luse is the fresh-fish, the salt-fish, is an old
   Slen. I may quarter (Coz)
   Shal. You may, by marrying
   Euans. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it
   Shal. Not a whit
   Euan. Yes per-lady: if he ha's a quarter of your coat,
there is but three Skirts for your selfe, in my simple coniectures;
but that is all one: if Sir Iohn Falstaffe haue
committed disparagements vnto you, I am of the Church
and will be glad to do my beneuolence, to make attonements
and compremises betweene you
   Shal. The Councell shall heare it, it is a Riot
   Euan. It is not meet the Councell heare a Riot: there
is no feare of Got in a Riot: The Councell (looke you)
shall desire to heare the feare of Got, and not to heare a
Riot: take your vizaments in that
   Shal. Ha; o'my life, if I were yong againe, the sword
should end it
   Euans. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end
it: and there is also another deuice in my praine, which
peraduenture prings goot discretions with it. There is
Anne Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas Page,
which is pretty virginity
   Slen. Mistris Anne Page? she has browne haire, and
speakes small like a woman
   Euans. It is that ferry person for all the orld, as iust as
you will desire, and seuen hundred pounds of Moneyes,
and Gold, and Siluer, is her Grand-sire vpon his deathsbed,
(Got deliuer to a ioyfull resurrections) giue, when
she is able to ouertake seuenteene yeeres old. It were a
goot motion, if we leaue our pribbles and prabbles, and
desire a marriage betweene Master Abraham, and Mistris
   Slen. Did her Grand-sire leaue her seauen hundred
  Euan. I, and her father is make her a petter penny
   Slen. I know the young Gentlewoman, she has good
   Euan. Seuen hundred pounds, and possibilities, is
   Shal. Wel, let vs see honest Mr Page: is Falstaffe there?
  Euan. Shall I tell you a lye? I doe despise a lyer, as I
doe despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not
true: the Knight Sir Iohn is there, and I beseech you be
ruled by your well-willers: I will peat the doore for Mr.
Page. What hoa? Got-plesse your house heere
   Mr.Page. Who's there?
  Euan. Here is go't's plessing and your friend, and Iustice
Shallow, and heere yong Master Slender: that peraduentures
shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to
your likings
   Mr.Page. I am glad to see your Worships well: I
thanke you for my Venison Master Shallow
   Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good
doe it your good heart: I wish'd your Venison better, it
was ill killd: how doth good Mistresse Page? and I thank
you alwaies with my heart, la: with my heart
   M.Page. Sir, I thanke you
   Shal. Sir, I thanke you: by yea, and no I doe
   M.Pa. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender
   Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir, I heard
say he was out-run on Cotsall
   M.Pa. It could not be iudg'd, Sir
   Slen. You'll not confesse: you'll not confesse
   Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault:
'tis a good dogge
   M.Pa. A Cur, Sir
   Shal. Sir: hee's a good dog, and a faire dog, can there
be more said? he is good, and faire. Is Sir Iohn Falstaffe
  M.Pa. Sir, hee is within: and I would I could doe a
good office betweene you
   Euan. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speake
   Shal. He hath wrong'd me (Master Page.)
  M.Pa. Sir, he doth in some sort confesse it
   Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that
so (M[aster]. Page?) he hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a
word he hath: beleeue me, Robert Shallow Esquire, saith
he is wronged
   Ma.Pa. Here comes Sir Iohn
   Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complaine of me to
  Shal. Knight, you haue beaten my men, kill'd my
deere, and broke open my Lodge
   Fal. But not kiss'd your Keepers daughter?
  Shal. Tut, a pin: this shall be answer'd
   Fal. I will answere it strait, I haue done all this:
That is now answer'd
   Shal. The Councell shall know this
   Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known in councell:
you'll be laugh'd at
   Eu. Pauca verba; (Sir Iohn) good worts
   Fal. Good worts? good Cabidge; Slender, I broke
your head: what matter haue you against me?
  Slen. Marry sir, I haue matter in my head against you,
and against your cony-catching Rascalls, Bardolf, Nym,
   Bar. You Banbery Cheese
   Slen. I, it is no matter
   Pist. How now, Mephostophilus?
  Slen. I, it is no matter
   Nym. Slice, I say; pauca, pauca: Slice, that's my humor
   Slen. Where's Simple my man? can you tell, Cosen?
  Eua. Peace, I pray you: now let vs vnderstand: there
is three Vmpires in this matter, as I vnderstand; that is,
Master Page (fidelicet Master Page,) & there is my selfe,
(fidelicet my selfe) and the three party is (lastly, and finally)
mine Host of the Garter
   Ma.Pa. We three to hear it, & end it between them
   Euan. Ferry goo't, I will make a priefe of it in my
note-booke, and we wil afterwards orke vpon the cause,
with as great discreetly as we can
   Fal. Pistoll
   Pist. He heares with eares
   Euan. The Teuill and his Tam: what phrase is this?
he heares with eare? why, it is affectations
   Fal. Pistoll, did you picke M[aster]. Slenders purse?
  Slen. I, by these gloues did hee, or I would I might
neuer come in mine owne great chamber againe else, of
seauen groates in mill-sixpences, and two Edward Shouelboords,
that cost me two shilling and two pence a
peece of Yead Miller: by these gloues
   Fal. Is this true, Pistoll?
  Euan. No, it is false, if it is a picke-purse
   Pist. Ha, thou mountaine Forreyner: Sir Iohn, and
Master mine, I combat challenge of this Latine Bilboe:
word of deniall in thy labras here; word of denial; froth,
and scum thou liest
   Slen. By these gloues, then 'twas he
   Nym. Be auis'd sir, and passe good humours: I will
say marry trap with you, if you runne the nut-hooks humor
on me, that is the very note of it
   Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it: for
though I cannot remember what I did when you made
me drunke, yet I am not altogether an asse
   Fal. What say you Scarlet, and Iohn?
  Bar. Why sir, (for my part) I say the Gentleman had
drunke himselfe out of his fiue sentences
   Eu. It is his fiue sences: fie, what the ignorance is
   Bar. And being fap, sir, was (as they say) casheerd: and
so conclusions past the Careires
   Slen. I, you spake in Latten then to: but 'tis no matter;
Ile nere be drunk whilst I liue againe, but in honest,
ciuill, godly company for this tricke: if I be drunke, Ile
be drunke with those that haue the feare of God, and not
with drunken knaues
   Euan. So got-udge me, that is a vertuous minde
   Fal. You heare all these matters deni'd, Gentlemen;
you heare it
   Mr.Page. Nay daughter, carry the wine in, wee'll
drinke within
   Slen. Oh heauen: This is Mistresse Anne Page
   Mr.Page. How now Mistris Ford?
  Fal. Mistris Ford, by my troth you are very wel met:
by your leaue good Mistris
   Mr.Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome: come,
we haue a hot Venison pasty to dinner; Come gentlemen,
I hope we shall drinke downe all vnkindnesse
   Slen. I had rather then forty shillings I had my booke
of Songs and Sonnets heere: How now Simple, where
haue you beene? I must wait on my selfe, must I? you
haue not the booke of Riddles about you, haue you?
  Sim. Booke of Riddles? why did you not lend it to
Alice Short-cake vpon Alhallowmas last, a fortnight afore
   Shal. Come Coz, come Coz, we stay for you: a word
with you Coz: marry this, Coz: there is as 'twere a tender,
a kinde of tender, made a farre-off by Sir Hugh here:
doe you vnderstand me?
  Slen. I Sir, you shall finde me reasonable; if it be so,
I shall doe that that is reason
   Shal. Nay, but vnderstand me
   Slen. So I doe Sir
   Euan. Giue eare to his motions; (Mr. Slender) I will
description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it
   Slen. Nay, I will doe as my Cozen Shallow saies: I
pray you pardon me, he's a Iustice of Peace in his Countrie,
simple though I stand here
   Euan. But that is not the question: the question is
concerning your marriage
   Shal. I, there's the point Sir
   Eu. Marry is it: the very point of it, to Mi[stris]. An Page
   Slen. Why if it be so; I will marry her vpon any reasonable
   Eu. But can you affection the 'oman, let vs command
to know that of your mouth, or of your lips: for diuers
Philosophers hold, that the lips is parcell of the mouth:
therfore precisely, ca[n] you carry your good wil to y maid?
  Sh. Cosen Abraham Slender, can you loue her?
  Slen. I hope sir, I will do as it shall become one that
would doe reason
   Eu. Nay, got's Lords, and his Ladies, you must speake
possitable, if you can carry-her your desires towards her
   Shal. That you must:
Will you, (vpon good dowry) marry her?
  Slen. I will doe a greater thing then that, vpon your
request (Cosen) in any reason
   Shal. Nay conceiue me, conceiue mee, (sweet Coz):
What I doe is to pleasure you (Coz:) can you loue the
  Slen. I will marry her (Sir) at your request; but if
there bee no great loue in the beginning, yet Heauen
may decrease it vpon better acquaintance, when wee
are married, and haue more occasion to know one another:
I hope vpon familiarity will grow more content:
but if you say mary-her, I will mary-her, that I am freely
dissolued, and dissolutely
   Eu. It is a fery discretion-answere; saue the fall is in
the 'ord, dissolutely: the ort is (according to our meaning)
resolutely: his meaning is good
   Sh. I: I thinke my Cosen meant well
   Sl. I, or else I would I might be hang'd (la.)
  Sh. Here comes faire Mistris Anne; would I were
yong for your sake, Mistris Anne
   An. The dinner is on the Table, my Father desires
your worships company
   Sh. I will wait on him, (faire Mistris Anne.)
  Eu. Od's plessed-wil: I wil not be abse[n]ce at the grace
   An. Wil't please your worship to come in, Sir?
  Sl. No, I thank you forsooth, hartely; I am very well
   An. The dinner attends you, Sir
   Sl. I am not a-hungry, I thanke you, forsooth: goe,
Sirha, for all you are my man, goe wait vpon my Cosen
Shallow: a Iustice of peace sometime may be beholding
to his friend, for a Man; I keepe but three Men, and a
Boy yet, till my Mother be dead: but what though, yet
I liue like a poore Gentleman borne
   An. I may not goe in without your worship: they
will not sit till you come
   Sl. I' faith, ile eate nothing: I thanke you as much as
though I did
   An. I pray you Sir walke in
   Sl. I had rather walke here (I thanke you) I bruiz'd
my shin th' other day, with playing at Sword and Dagger
with a Master of Fence (three veneys for a dish of
stew'd Prunes) and by my troth, I cannot abide the smell
of hot meate since. Why doe your dogs barke so? be
there Beares ith' Towne?
  An. I thinke there are, Sir, I heard them talk'd of
   Sl. I loue the sport well, but I shall as soone quarrell
at it, as any man in England: you are afraid if you see the
Beare loose, are you not?
  An. I indeede Sir
   Sl. That's meate and drinke to me now: I haue seene
Saskerson loose, twenty times, and haue taken him by the
Chaine: but (I warrant you) the women haue so cride
and shrekt at it, that it past: But women indeede, cannot
abide 'em, they are very ill-fauour'd rough things
   Ma.Pa. Come, gentle M[aster]. Slender, come; we stay for you
   Sl. Ile eate nothing, I thanke you Sir
   Ma.Pa. By cocke and pie, you shall not choose, Sir:
   Sl. Nay, pray you lead the way
   Ma.Pa. Come on, Sir
   Sl. Mistris Anne: your selfe shall goe first
   An. Not I Sir, pray you keepe on
   Sl. Truely I will not goe first: truely-la: I will not
doe you that wrong
   An. I pray you Sir
   Sl. Ile rather be vnmannerly, then troublesome: you
doe your selfe wrong indeede-la.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Euans, and Simple.
  Eu. Go your waies, and aske of Doctor Caius house,
which is the way; and there dwels one Mistris Quickly;
which is in the manner of his Nurse; or his dry-Nurse; or
his Cooke; or his Laundry; his Washer, and his Ringer
   Si. Well Sir
   Eu. Nay, it is petter yet: giue her this letter; for it is
a 'oman that altogeathers acquainta[n]ce with Mistris Anne
Page; and the Letter is to desire, and require her to solicite
your Masters desires, to Mistris Anne Page: I pray
you be gon: I will make an end of my dinner; ther's Pippins
and Cheese to come.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Falstaffe, Host, Bardolfe, Nym, Pistoll, Page.
  Fal. Mine Host of the Garter?
  Ho. What saies my Bully Rooke? speake schollerly,
   Fal. Truely mine Host; I must turne away some of my
   Ho. Discard, (bully Hercules) casheere; let them wag;
   Fal. I sit at ten pounds a weeke
   Ho. Thou'rt an Emperor (Cesar, Keiser and Pheazar)
I will entertaine Bardolfe: he shall draw; he shall tap; said
I well (bully Hector?)
  Fa. Doe so (good mine Host.)
  Ho. I haue spoke; let him follow; let me see thee froth,
and liue: I am at a word: follow
   Fal. Bardolfe, follow him: a Tapster is a good trade:
an old Cloake, makes a new Ierkin: a wither'd Seruingman,
a fresh Tapster: goe, adew
   Ba. It is a life that I haue desir'd: I will thriue
   Pist. O base hungarian wight: wilt y the spigot wield
   Ni. He was gotten in drink: is not the humor co[n]ceited?
  Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this Tinderbox: his
Thefts were too open: his filching was like an vnskilfull
Singer, he kept not time
   Ni. The good humor is to steale at a minutes rest
   Pist. Conuay: the wise it call: Steale? foh: a fico for
   Fal. Well sirs, I am almost out at heeles
   Pist. Why then let Kibes ensue
   Fal. There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift
   Pist. Yong Rauens must haue foode
   Fal. Which of you know Ford of this Towne?
  Pist. I ken the wight: he is of substance good
   Fal. My honest Lads, I will tell you what I am about
   Pist. Two yards, and more
   Fal. No quips now Pistoll: (Indeede I am in the waste
two yards about: but I am now about no waste: I am about
thrift) briefely: I doe meane to make loue to Fords
wife: I spie entertainment in her: shee discourses: shee
carues: she giues the leere of inuitation: I can construe
the action of her familier stile, & the hardest voice of her
behauior (to be english'd rightly) is, I am Sir Iohn Falstafs
   Pist. He hath studied her will; and translated her will:
out of honesty, into English
   Ni. The Anchor is deepe: will that humor passe?
  Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her
husbands Purse: he hath a legend of Angels
   Pist. As many diuels entertaine: and to her Boy say I
   Ni. The humor rises: it is good: humor me the angels
   Fal. I haue writ me here a letter to her: & here another
to Pages wife, who euen now gaue mee good eyes
too; examind my parts with most iudicious illiads: sometimes
the beame of her view, guilded my foote: sometimes
my portly belly
   Pist. Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine
   Ni. I thanke thee for that humour
   Fal. O she did so course o're my exteriors with such
a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye, did seeme
to scorch me vp like a burning-glasse: here's another
letter to her: She beares the Purse too: She is a Region
in Guiana: all gold, and bountie: I will be Cheaters to
them both, and they shall be Exchequers to mee: they
shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to
them both: Goe, beare thou this Letter to Mistris Page;
and thou this to Mistris Ford: we will thriue (Lads) we
   Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become,
And by my side weare Steele? then Lucifer take all
   Ni. I will run no base humor: here take the humor-Letter;
I will keepe the hauior of reputation
   Fal. Hold Sirha, beare you these Letters tightly,
Saile like my Pinnasse to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence, auaunt, vanish like haile-stones; goe,
Trudge; plod away ith' hoofe: seeke shelter, packe:
Falstaffe will learne the honor of the age,
French-thrift, you Rogues, my selfe, and skirted Page
   Pist. Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and
Fullam holds: & high and low beguiles the rich & poore,
Tester ile haue in pouch when thou shalt lacke,
Base Phrygian Turke
   Ni. I haue opperations,
Which be humors of reuenge
   Pist. Wilt thou reuenge?
  Ni. By Welkin, and her Star
   Pist. With wit, or Steele?
  Ni. With both the humors, I:
I will discusse the humour of this Loue to Ford
   Pist. And I to Page shall eke vnfold
How Falstaffe (varlet vile)
His Doue will proue; his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile
   Ni. My humour shall not coole: I will incense Ford
to deale with poyson: I will possesse him with yallownesse,
for the reuolt of mine is dangerous: that is my
   Pist. Thou art the Mars of Malecontents: I second
thee: troope on.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Mistris Quickly, Simple, Iohn Rugby, Doctor, Caius, Fenton.
  Qu. What, Iohn Rugby, I pray thee goe to the Casement,
and see if you can see my Master, Master Docter
Caius comming: if he doe (I' faith) and finde any body
in the house; here will be an old abusing of Gods patience,
and the Kings English
   Ru. Ile goe watch
   Qu. Goe, and we'll haue a posset for't soone at night,
(in faith) at the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honest,
willing, kinde fellow, as euer seruant shall come in house
withall: and I warrant you, no tel-tale, nor no breedebate:
his worst fault is, that he is giuen to prayer; hee is
something peeuish that way: but no body but has his
fault: but let that passe. Peter Simple, you say your
  Si. I: for fault of a better
   Qu. And Master Slender's your Master?
  Si. I forsooth
   Qu. Do's he not weare a great round Beard, like a
Glouers pairing-knife?
  Si. No forsooth: he hath but a little wee-face; with
a little yellow Beard: a Caine colourd Beard
   Qu. A softly-sprighted man, is he not?
  Si. I forsooth: but he is as tall a man of his hands, as
any is betweene this and his head: he hath fought with
   Qu. How say you: oh, I should remember him: do's
he not hold vp his head (as it were?) and strut in his gate?
  Si. Yes indeede do's he
   Qu. Well, heauen send Anne Page, no worse fortune:
Tell Master Parson Euans, I will doe what I can for your
Master: Anne is a good girle, and I wish -
  Ru. Out alas: here comes my Master
   Qu. We shall all be shent: Run in here, good young
man: goe into this Closset: he will not stay long: what
Iohn Rugby? Iohn: what Iohn I say? goe Iohn, goe enquire
for my Master, I doubt he be not well, that hee
comes not home: (and downe, downe, adowne'a. &c
   Ca. Vat is you sing? I doe not like des-toyes: pray
you goe and vetch me in my Closset, vnboyteere verd;
a Box, a greene-a-Box: do intend vat I speake? a greene-a-Box
   Qu. I forsooth ile fetch it you:
I am glad hee went not in himselfe: if he had found the
yong man he would haue bin horne-mad
   Ca. Fe, fe, fe, fe, mai foy, il fait for ehando, Ie man voi a le
Court la grand affaires
   Qu. Is it this Sir?
  Ca. Ouy mette le au mon pocket, depeech quickly:
Vere is dat knaue Rugby?
  Qu. What Iohn Rugby, Iohn?
  Ru. Here Sir
   Ca. You are Iohn Rugby, and you are Iacke Rugby:
Come, take-a-your Rapier, and come after my heele to
   Ru. 'Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch
   Ca. By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay ie
oublie: dere is some Simples in my Closset, dat I vill not
for the varld I shall leaue behinde
   Qu. Ay-me, he'll finde the yong man there, & be mad
   Ca. O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Closset?
Villanie, Laroone: Rugby, my Rapier
   Qu. Good Master be content
   Ca. Wherefore shall I be content-a?
  Qu. The yong man is an honest man
   Ca. What shall de honest man do in my Closset: dere
is no honest man dat shall come in my Closset
   Qu. I beseech you be not so flegmaticke: heare the
truth of it. He came of an errand to mee, from Parson
   Si. I forsooth: to desire her to -
  Qu. Peace, I pray you
   Ca. Peace-a-your tongue: speake-a-your Tale
   Si. To desire this honest Gentlewoman (your Maid)
to speake a good word to Mistris Anne Page, for my Master
in the way of Marriage
   Qu. This is all indeede-la: but ile nere put my finger
in the fire, and neede not
   Ca. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, ballow mee some
paper: tarry you a littell-a-while
   Qui. I am glad he is so quiet: if he had bin throughly
moued, you should haue heard him so loud, and so melancholly:
but notwithstanding man, Ile doe yoe your
Master what good I can: and the very yea, & the no is, y
French Doctor my Master, (I may call him my Master,
looke you, for I keepe his house; and I wash, ring, brew,
bake, scowre, dresse meat and drinke, make the beds, and
doe all my selfe.)
  Simp. 'Tis a great charge to come vnder one bodies
   Qui. Are you auis'd o'that? you shall finde it a great
charge: and to be vp early, and down late: but notwithstanding,
(to tell you in your eare, I wold haue no words
of it) my Master himselfe is in loue with Mistris Anne
Page: but notwithstanding that I know Ans mind, that's
neither heere nor there
   Caius. You, Iack'Nape: giue-'a this Letter to Sir
Hugh, by gar it is a shallenge: I will cut his troat in de
Parke, and I will teach a scuruy Iackanape Priest to
meddle, or make:- you may be gon: it is not good
you tarry here: by gar I will cut all his two stones: by
gar, he shall not haue a stone to throw at his dogge
   Qui. Alas: he speakes but for his friend
   Caius. It is no matter 'a ver dat: do not you tell-a-me
dat I shall haue Anne Page for my selfe? by gar, I vill
kill de Iack-Priest: and I haue appointed mine Host of
de Iarteer to measure our weapon: by gar, I wil my selfe
haue Anne Page
   Qui. Sir, the maid loues you, and all shall bee well:
We must giue folkes leaue to prate: what the goodier
   Caius. Rugby, come to the Court with me: by gar, if
I haue not Anne Page, I shall turne your head out of my
dore: follow my heeles, Rugby
   Qui. You shall haue An-fooles head of your owne:
No, I know Ans mind for that: neuer a woman in Windsor
knowes more of Ans minde then I doe, nor can doe
more then I doe with her, I thanke heauen
   Fenton. Who's with in there, hoa?
  Qui. Who's there, I troa? Come neere the house I
   Fen. How now (good woman) how dost thou?
  Qui. The better that it pleases your good Worship
  Fen. What newes? how do's pretty Mistris Anne?
  Qui. In truth Sir, and shee is pretty, and honest, and
gentle, and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way, I praise heauen for it
   Fen. Shall I doe any good thinkst thou? shall I not
loose my suit?
  Qui. Troth Sir, all is in his hands aboue: but notwithstanding
(Master Fenton) Ile be sworne on a booke
shee loues you: haue not your Worship a wart aboue
  Fen. Yes marry haue I, what of that?
  Qui. Wel, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is such
another Nan; (but (I detest) an honest maid as euer
broke bread: wee had an howres talke of that wart; I
shall neuer laugh but in that maids company: but (indeed)
shee is giuen too much to Allicholy and musing:
but for you - well - goe too -
  Fen. Well: I shall see her to day: hold, there's money
for thee: Let mee haue thy voice in my behalfe: if
thou seest her before me, commend me. -
  Qui. Will I? I faith that wee will: And I will tell
your Worship more of the Wart, the next time we haue
confidence, and of other wooers
   Fen. Well, fare-well, I am in great haste now
   Qui. Fare-well to your Worship: truely an honest
Gentleman: but Anne loues him not: for I know Ans
minde as well as another do's: out vpon't: what haue I
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Master Page, Master Ford,
Pistoll, Nim,
Quickly, Host, Shallow.
  Mist.Page. What, haue scap'd Loue-letters in the
holly-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a subiect
for them? let me see?
Aske me no reason why I loue you, for though Loue vse Reason
for his precisian, hee admits him not for his Counsailour:
you are not yong, no more am I: goe to then, there's simpathie:
you are merry, so am I: ha, ha, then there's more simpathie:
you loue sacke, and so do I: would you desire better simpathie?
Let it suffice thee (Mistris Page) at the least if the Loue of
Souldier can suffice, that I loue thee: I will not say pitty mee,
'tis not a Souldier-like phrase; but I say, loue me:
By me, thine owne true Knight, by day or night:
Or any kinde of light, with all his might,
For thee to fight. Iohn Falstaffe.
What a Herod of Iurie is this? O wicked, wicked world:
One that is well-nye worne to peeces with age
To show himselfe a yong Gallant? What an vnwaied
Behauiour hath this Flemish drunkard pickt (with
The Deuills name) out of my conuersation, that he dares
In this manner assay me? why, hee hath not beene thrice
In my Company: what should I say to him? I was then
Frugall of my mirth: (heauen forgiue mee:) why Ile
Exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting downe
of men: how shall I be reueng'd on him? for reueng'd I
will be? as sure as his guts are made of puddings
   Mis.Ford. Mistris Page, trust me, I was going to your
   Mis.Page. And trust me, I was comming to you: you
looke very ill
   Mis.Ford. Nay Ile nere beleeue that; I haue to shew
to the contrary
   Mis.Page. 'Faith but you doe in my minde
   Mis.Ford. Well: I doe then: yet I say, I could shew
you to the contrary: O Mistris Page, giue mee some
   Mis.Page. What's the matter, woman?
  Mi.Ford. O woman: if it were not for one trifling respect,
I could come to such honour
   Mi.Page. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour:
what is it? dispence with trifles: what is it?
  Mi.Ford. If I would but goe to hell, for an eternall
moment, or so: I could be knighted
   Mi.Page. What thou liest? Sir Alice Ford? these
Knights will hacke, and so thou shouldst not alter the article
of thy Gentry
   Mi.Ford. Wee burne day-light: heere, read, read:
perceiue how I might bee knighted, I shall thinke the
worse of fat men, as long as I haue an eye to make difference
of mens liking: and yet hee would not sweare:
praise womens modesty: and gaue such orderly and welbehaued
reproofe to al vncomelinesse, that I would haue
sworne his disposition would haue gone to the truth of
his words: but they doe no more adhere and keep place
together, then the hundred Psalms to the tune of Greensleeues:
What tempest (I troa) threw this Whale, (with
so many Tuns of oyle in his belly) a'shoare at Windsor?
How shall I bee reuenged on him? I thinke the best way
were, to entertaine him with hope, till the wicked fire
of lust haue melted him in his owne greace: Did you euer
heare the like?
  Mis.Page. Letter for letter; but that the name of
Page and Ford differs: to thy great comfort in this mystery
of ill opinions, heere's the twyn-brother of thy Letter:
but let thine inherit first, for I protest mine neuer
shall: I warrant he hath a thousand of these Letters, writ
with blancke-space for different names (sure more): and
these are of the second edition: hee will print them out
of doubt: for he cares not what hee puts into the presse,
when he would put vs two: I had rather be a Giantesse,
and lye vnder Mount Pelion: Well; I will find you twentie
lasciuious Turtles ere one chaste man
   Mis.Ford. Why this is the very same: the very hand:
the very words: what doth he thinke of vs?
  Mis.Page. Nay I know not: it makes me almost readie
to wrangle with mine owne honesty: Ile entertaine
my selfe like one that I am not acquainted withall: for
sure vnlesse hee know some straine in mee, that I know
not my selfe, hee would neuer haue boorded me in this
   Mi.Ford. Boording, call you it? Ile bee sure to keepe
him aboue decke
   Mi.Page. So will I: if hee come vnder my hatches,
Ile neuer to Sea againe: Let's bee reueng'd on him: let's
appoint him a meeting: giue him a show of comfort in
his Suit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, till hee
hath pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garter
   Mi.Ford. Nay, I wil consent to act any villany against
him, that may not sully the charinesse of our honesty: oh
that my husband saw this Letter: it would giue eternall
food to his iealousie
   Mis.Page. Why look where he comes; and my good
man too: hee's as farre from iealousie, as I am from giuing
him cause, and that (I hope) is an vnmeasurable distance
   Mis.Ford. You are the happier woman
   Mis.Page. Let's consult together against this greasie
Knight: Come hither
   Ford. Well: I hope, it be not so
   Pist. Hope is a curtall-dog in some affaires:
Sir Iohn affects thy wife
   Ford. Why sir, my wife is not young
   Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich & poor,
both yong and old, one with another (Ford) he loues the
Gally-mawfry (Ford) perpend
   Ford. Loue my wife?
  Pist. With liuer, burning hot: preuent:
Or goe thou like Sir Acteon he, with
Ring-wood at thy heeles: O, odious is the name
   Ford. What name Sir?
  Pist. The horne I say: Farewell:
Take heed, haue open eye, for theeues doe foot by night.
Take heed, ere sommer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do sing.
Away sir Corporall Nim:
Beleeue it (Page) he speakes sence
   Ford. I will be patient: I will find out this
   Nim. And this is true: I like not the humor of lying:
hee hath wronged mee in some humors: I should haue
borne the humour'd Letter to her: but I haue a sword:
and it shall bite vpon my necessitie: he loues your wife;
There's the short and the long: My name is Corporall
Nim: I speak, and I auouch; 'tis true: my name is Nim:
and Falstaffe loues your wife: adieu, I loue not the humour
of bread and cheese: adieu
   Page. The humour of it (quoth 'a?) heere's a fellow
frights English out of his wits
   Ford. I will seeke out Falstaffe
   Page. I neuer heard such a drawling-affecting rogue
   Ford. If I doe finde it: well
   Page. I will not beleeue such a Cataian, though the
Priest o' th' Towne commended him for a true man
   Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: well
   Page. How now Meg?
  Mist.Page. Whether goe you (George?) harke you
   Mis.Ford. How now (sweet Frank) why art thou melancholy?
  Ford. I melancholy? I am not melancholy:
Get you home: goe
   Mis.Ford. Faith, thou hast some crochets in thy head,
Now: will you goe, Mistris Page?
  Mis.Page. Haue with you: you'll come to dinner
George? Looke who comes yonder: shee shall bee our
Messenger to this paltrie Knight
   Mis.Ford. Trust me, I thought on her: shee'll fit it
   Mis.Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne?
  Qui. I forsooth: and I pray how do's good Mistresse
  Mis.Page. Go in with vs and see: we haue an houres
talke with you
   Page. How now Master Ford?
  For. You heard what this knaue told me, did you not?
  Page. Yes, and you heard what the other told me?
  Ford. Doe you thinke there is truth in them?
  Pag. Hang 'em slaues: I doe not thinke the Knight
would offer it: But these that accuse him in his intent
towards our wiues, are a yoake of his discarded men: very
rogues, now they be out of seruice
   Ford. Were they his men?
  Page. Marry were they
   Ford. I like it neuer the beter for that,
Do's he lye at the Garter?
  Page. I marry do's he: if hee should intend this voyage
toward my wife, I would turne her loose to him;
and what hee gets more of her, then sharpe words, let it
lye on my head
   Ford. I doe not misdoubt my wife: but I would bee
loath to turne them together: a man may be too confident:
I would haue nothing lye on my head: I cannot
be thus satisfied
   Page. Looke where my ranting-Host of the Garter
comes: there is eyther liquor in his pate, or mony in his
purse, when hee lookes so merrily: How now mine
  Host. How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman
Caueleiro Iustice, I say
   Shal. I follow, (mine Host) I follow: Good-euen,
and twenty (good Master Page.) Master Page, wil you go
with vs? we haue sport in hand
   Host. Tell him Caueleiro-Iustice: tell him Bully-Rooke
   Shall. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, betweene Sir
Hugh the Welch Priest, and Caius the French Doctor
   Ford. Good mine Host o'th' Garter: a word with you
   Host. What saist thou, my Bully-Rooke?
  Shal. Will you goe with vs to behold it? My merry
Host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and (I
thinke) hath appointed them contrary places: for (beleeue
mee) I heare the Parson is no Iester: harke, I will
tell you what our sport shall be
   Host. Hast thou no suit against my Knight? my guest-Caualeire?
  Shal. None, I protest: but Ile giue you a pottle of
burn'd sacke, to giue me recourse to him, and tell him
my name is Broome: onely for a iest
   Host. My hand, (Bully:) thou shalt haue egresse and
regresse, (said I well?) and thy name shall be Broome. It
is a merry Knight: will you goe An-heires?
  Shal. Haue with you mine Host
   Page. I haue heard the French-man hath good skill
in his Rapier
   Shal. Tut sir: I could haue told you more: In these
times you stand on distance: your Passes, Stoccado's, and
I know not what: 'tis the heart (Master Page) 'tis heere,
'tis heere: I haue seene the time, with my long-sword, I
would haue made you fowre tall fellowes skippe like
   Host. Heere boyes, heere, heere: shall we wag?
  Page. Haue with you: I had rather heare them scold,
   Ford. Though Page be a secure foole, and stands so
firmely on his wiues frailty; yet, I cannot put-off my opinion
so easily: she was in his company at Pages house:
and what they made there, I know not. Well, I wil looke
further into't, and I haue a disguise, to sound Falstaffe; if
I finde her honest, I loose not my labor: if she be otherwise,
'tis labour well bestowed.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Falstaffe, Pistoll, Robin, Quickly, Bardolffe, Ford.
  Fal. I will not lend thee a penny
   Pist. Why then the world's mine Oyster, which I,
with sword will open
   Fal. Not a penny: I haue beene content (Sir,) you
should lay my countenance to pawne: I haue grated vpon
my good friends for three Repreeues for you, and
your Coach-fellow Nim; or else you had look'd through
the grate, like a Geminy of Baboones: I am damn'd in
hell, for swearing to Gentlemen my friends, you were
good Souldiers, and tall-fellowes. And when Mistresse
Briget lost the handle of her Fan, I took't vpon mine honour
thou hadst it not
   Pist. Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteene
  Fal. Reason, you roague, reason: thinkst thou Ile endanger
my soule, gratis? at a word, hang no more about
mee, I am no gibbet for you: goe, a short knife, and a
throng, to your Mannor of Pickt-hatch: goe, you'll not
beare a Letter for mee you roague? you stand vpon your
honor: why, (thou vnconfinable basenesse) it is as much
as I can doe to keepe the termes of my honor precise:
I, I, I my selfe sometimes, leauing the feare of heauen on
the left hand, and hiding mine honor in my necessity, am
faine to shufflle: to hedge, and to lurch, and yet, you
Rogue, will en-sconce your raggs; your Cat-a-Mountaine-lookes,
your red-lattice phrases, and your boldbeating-oathes,
vnder the shelter of your honor? you
will not doe it? you?
  Pist. I doe relent: what would thou more of man?
  Robin. Sir, here's a woman would speake with you
   Fal. Let her approach
   Qui. Giue your worship good morrow
   Fal. Good-morrow, good-wife
   Qui. Not so, and't please your worship
   Fal. Good maid then
   Qui. Ile be sworne,
As my mother was the first houre I was borne
   Fal. I doe beleeue the swearer; what with me?
  Qui. Shall I vouch-safe your worship a word, or
  Fal. Two thousand (faire woman) and ile vouchsafe
thee the hearing
   Qui. There is one Mistresse Ford, (Sir) I pray come a
little neerer this waies: I my selfe dwell with M[aster]. Doctor
  Fal. Well, on; Mistresse Ford, you say
   Qui. Your worship saies very true: I pray your worship
come a little neerer this waies
   Fal. I warrant thee, no-bodie heares: mine owne
people, mine owne people
   Qui. Are they so? heauen-blesse them, and make
them his Seruants
   Fal. Well; Mistresse Ford, what of her?
  Qui. Why, Sir; shee's a good-creature; Lord, Lord,
your Worship's a wanton: well: heauen forgiue you,
and all of vs, I pray -
   Fal. Mistresse Ford: come, Mistresse Ford
   Qui. Marry this is the short, and the long of it: you
haue brought her into such a Canaries, as 'tis wonderfull:
the best Courtier of them all (when the Court lay
at Windsor) could neuer haue brought her to such a Canarie:
yet there has beene Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen,
with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after
Coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, smelling so sweetly;
all Muske, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silke
and golde, and in such alligant termes, and in such wine
and suger of the best, and the fairest, that would haue
wonne any womans heart: and I warrant you, they could
neuer get an eye-winke of her: I had my selfe twentie
Angels giuen me this morning, but I defie all Angels (in
any such sort, as they say) but in the way of honesty: and
I warrant you, they could neuer get her so much as sippe
on a cup with the prowdest of them all, and yet there has
beene Earles: nay, (which is more) Pentioners, but I
warrant you all is one with her
   Fal. But what saies shee to mee? be briefe my good
sheeMercurie
   Qui. Marry, she hath receiu'd your Letter: for the
which she thankes you a thousand times; and she giues
you to notifie, that her husband will be absence from his
house, betweene ten and eleuen
   Fal. Ten, and eleuen
   Qui. I, forsooth: and then you may come and see the
picture (she sayes) that you wot of: Master Ford her husband
will be from home: alas, the sweet woman leades
an ill life with him: hee's a very iealousie-man; she leads
a very frampold life with him, (good hart.)
   Fal. Ten, and eleuen.
Woman, commend me to her, I will not faile her
   Qui. Why, you say well: But I haue another messenger
to your worship: Mistresse Page hath her heartie
commendations to you to: and let mee tell you in your
eare, shee's as fartuous a ciuill modest wife, and one (I
tell you) that will not misse you morning nor euening
prayer, as any is in Windsor, who ere bee the other: and
shee bade me tell your worship, that her husband is seldome
from home, but she hopes there will come a time.
I neuer knew a woman so doate vpon a man; surely I
thinke you haue charmes, la: yes in truth
   Fal. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my
good parts aside, I haue no other charmes
   Qui. Blessing on your heart for't
   Fal. But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and
Pages wife acquainted each other, how they loue me?
  Qui. That were a iest indeed: they haue not so little
grace I hope, that were a tricke indeed: But Mistris Page
would desire you to send her your little Page of al loues:
her husband has a maruellous infectio[n] to the little Page:
and truely Master Page is an honest man: neuer a wife in
Windsor leades a better life then she do's: doe what shee
will, say what she will, take all, pay all, goe to bed when
she list, rise when she list, all is as she will: and truly she
deserues it; for if there be a kinde woman in Windsor, she
is one: you must send her your Page, no remedie
   Fal. Why, I will
   Qu. Nay, but doe so then, and looke you, hee may
come and goe betweene you both: and in any case haue
a nay-word, that you may know one anothers minde,
and the Boy neuer neede to vnderstand any thing; for
'tis not good that children should know any wickednes:
olde folkes you know, haue discretion, as they say, and
know the world
   Fal. Farethee-well, commend mee to them both:
there's my purse, I am yet thy debter: Boy, goe along
with this woman, this newes distracts me
   Pist. This Puncke is one of Cupids Carriers,
Clap on more sailes, pursue: vp with your sights:
Giue fire: she is my prize, or Ocean whelme them all
   Fal. Saist thou so (old Iacke) go thy waies: Ile make
more of thy olde body then I haue done: will they yet
looke after thee? wilt thou after the expence of so much
money, be now a gainer? good Body, I thanke thee: let
them say 'tis grossely done, so it bee fairely done, no
   Bar. Sir Iohn, there's one Master Broome below would
faine speake with you, and be acquainted with you; and
hath sent your worship a mornings draught of Sacke
   Fal. Broome is his name?
   Bar. I Sir
   Fal. Call him in: such Broomes are welcome to mee,
that ore'flowes such liquor: ah ha, Mistresse Ford and Mistresse
Page, haue I encompass'd you? goe to, via
   Ford. 'Blesse you sir
   Fal. And you sir: would you speake with me?
   Ford. I make bold, to presse, with so little preparation
   Fal. You'r welcome, what's your will? giue vs leaue
   Ford. Sir, I am a Gentleman that haue spent much,
my name is Broome
   Fal. Good Master Broome, I desire more acquaintance
   Ford. Good Sir Iohn, I sue for yours: not to charge
you, for I must let you vnderstand, I thinke my selfe in
better plight for a Lender, then you are: the which hath
something emboldned me to this vnseason'd intrusion:
for they say, if money goe before, all waies doe lye
   Fal. Money is a good Souldier (Sir) and will on
   Ford. Troth, and I haue a bag of money heere troubles
me: if you will helpe to beare it (Sir Iohn) take all,
or halfe, for easing me of the carriage
   Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserue to bee your
   Ford. I will tell you sir, if you will giue mee the hearing
   Fal. Speake (good Master Broome) I shall be glad to
be your Seruant
   Ford. Sir, I heare you are a Scholler: (I will be briefe
with you) and you haue been a man long knowne to me,
though I had neuer so good means as desire, to make my
selfe acquainted with you. I shall discouer a thing to
you, wherein I must very much lay open mine owne imperfection:
but (good Sir Iohn) as you haue one eye vpon
my follies, as you heare them vnfolded, turne another
into the Register of your owne, that I may passe with a
reproofe the easier, sith you your selfe know how easie it
is to be such an offender
   Fal. Very well Sir, proceed
   Ford. There is a Gentlewoman in this Towne, her
husbands name is Ford
   Fal. Well Sir
   Ford. I haue long lou'd her, and I protest to you, bestowed
much on her: followed her with a doating obseruance:
Ingross'd opportunities to meete her: fee'd euery
slight occasion that could but nigardly giue mee
sight of her: not only bought many presents to giue her,
but haue giuen largely to many, to know what shee
would haue giuen: briefly, I haue pursu'd her, as Loue
hath pursued mee, which hath beene on the wing of all
occasions: but whatsoeuer I haue merited, either in my
minde, or in my meanes, meede I am sure I haue receiued
none, vnlesse Experience be a Iewell, that I haue purchased
at an infinite rate, and that hath taught mee to say
``Loue like a shadow flies, when substance Loue pursues,
``Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues
   Fal. Haue you receiu'd no promise of satisfaction at
  Ford. Neuer
   Fal. Haue you importun'd her to such a purpose?
  Ford. Neuer
   Fal. Of what qualitie was your loue then?
  Ford. Like a fair house, built on another mans ground,
so that I haue lost my edifice, by mistaking the place,
where I erected it
   Fal. To what purpose haue you vnfolded this to me?
  For. When I haue told you that, I haue told you all:
Some say, that though she appeare honest to mee, yet in
other places shee enlargeth her mirth so farre, that there
is shrewd construction made of her. Now (Sir Iohn) here
is the heart of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent
breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance,
authenticke in your place and person, generally
allow'd for your many war-like, court-like, and learned
preparations
   Fal. O Sir
   Ford. Beleeue it, for you know it: there is money,
spend it, spend it, spend more; spend all I haue, onely
giue me so much of your time in enchange of it, as to lay
an amiable siege to the honesty of this Fords wife: vse
your Art of wooing; win her to consent to you: if any
man may, you may as soone as any
   Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your
affection that I should win what you would enioy? Methinkes
you prescribe to your selfe very preposterously
   Ford. O, vnderstand my drift: she dwells so securely
on the excellency of her honor, that the folly of my soule
dares not present it selfe: shee is too bright to be look'd
against. Now, could I come to her with any detection
in my hand; my desires had instance and argument to
commend themselues, I could driue her then from the
ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow,
and a thousand other her defences, which now are tootoo
strongly embattaild against me: what say you too't,
  Fal. Master Broome, I will first make bold with your
money: next, giue mee your hand: and last, as I am a
gentleman, you shall, if you will, enioy Fords wife
   Ford. O good Sir
   Fal. I say you shall
   Ford. Want no money (Sir Iohn) you shall want none
   Fal. Want no Mistresse Ford (Master Broome) you shall
want none: I shall be with her (I may tell you) by her
owne appointment, euen as you came in to me, her assistant,
or goe-betweene, parted from me: I say I shall be
with her betweene ten and eleuen: for at that time the
iealious-rascally-knaue her husband will be forth: come
you to me at night, you shall know how I speed
   Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance: do you know
  Fal. Hang him (poore Cuckoldly knaue) I know
him not: yet I wrong him to call him poore: They say
the iealous wittolly-knaue hath masses of money, for
the which his wife seemes to me well-fauourd: I will vse
her as the key of the Cuckoldly-rogues Coffer, & ther's
my haruest-home
   Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might auoid
him, if you saw him
   Fal. Hang him, mechanicall-salt-butter rogue; I wil
stare him out of his wits: I will awe-him with my cudgell:
it shall hang like a Meteor ore the Cuckolds horns:
Master Broome, thou shalt know, I will predominate ouer
the pezant, and thou shalt lye with his wife. Come
to me soone at night: Ford's a knaue, and I will aggrauate
his stile: thou (Master Broome) shalt know him for
knaue, and Cuckold. Come to me soone at night
   Ford. What a damn'd Epicurian-Rascall is this? my
heart is ready to cracke with impatience: who saies this
is improuident iealousie? my wife hath sent to him, the
howre is fixt, the match is made: would any man haue
thought this? see the hell of hauing a false woman: my
bed shall be abus'd, my Coffers ransack'd, my reputation
gnawne at, and I shall not onely receiue this villanous
wrong, but stand vnder the adoption of abhominable
termes, and by him that does mee this wrong: Termes,
names: Amaimon sounds well: Lucifer, well: Barbason,
well: yet they are Diuels additions, the names of fiends:
But Cuckold, Wittoll, Cuckold? the Diuell himselfe
hath not such a name. Page is an Asse, a secure Asse; hee
will trust his wife, hee will not be iealous: I will rather
trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman
with my Cheese, an Irish-man with my Aqua-vitae-bottle,
or a Theefe to walke my ambling gelding, then
my wife with her selfe. Then she plots, then shee ruminates,
then shee deuises: and what they thinke in their
hearts they may effect; they will breake their hearts but
they will effect. Heauen bee prais'd for my iealousie:
eleuen o' clocke the howre, I will preuent this, detect
my wife, bee reueng'd on Falstaffe, and laugh at Page. I
will about it, better three houres too soone, then a mynute
too late: fie, fie, fie: Cuckold, Cuckold, Cuckold.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Caius, Rugby, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host.
  Caius. Iacke Rugby
   Caius. Vat is the clocke, Iack
   Rug. 'Tis past the howre (Sir) that Sir Hugh promis'd
   Cai. By gar, he has saue his soule, dat he is no-come:
hee has pray his Pible well, dat he is no-come: by gar
(Iack Rugby) he is dead already, if he be come
   Rug. Hee is wise Sir: hee knew your worship would
kill him if he came
   Cai. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill
him: take your Rapier, (Iacke) I vill tell you how I vill
   Rug. Alas sir, I cannot fence
   Cai. Villaine, take your Rapier
   Rug. Forbeare: heer's company
   Host. 'Blesse thee, bully-Doctor
   Shal. 'Saue you Mr. Doctor Caius
   Page. Now good Mr. Doctor
   Slen. 'Giue you good-morrow, sir
   Caius. Vat be all you one, two, tree, fowre, come for?
  Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to see thee
trauerse, to see thee heere, to see thee there, to see thee
passe thy puncto, thy stock, thy reuerse, thy distance, thy
montant: Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco?
ha Bully? what saies my Esculapius? my Galien? my
heart of Elder? ha? is he dead bully-Stale? is he dead?
  Cai. By gar, he is de Coward-Iack-Priest of de vorld:
he is not show his face
   Host. Thou art a Castalion-king-Vrinall: Hector of
Greece (my Boy)
  Cai. I pray you beare witnesse, that me haue stay,
sixe or seuen, two tree howres for him, and hee is nocome
   Shal. He is the wiser man (M[aster]. Doctor) he is a curer of
soules, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you
goe against the haire of your professions: is it not true,
Master Page?
  Page. Master Shallow; you haue your selfe beene a
great fighter, though now a man of peace
   Shal. Body-kins M[aster]. Page, though I now be old, and
of the peace; if I see a sword out, my finger itches to
make one: though wee are Iustices, and Doctors, and
Church-men (M[aster]. Page) wee haue some salt of our youth
in vs, we are the sons of women (M[aster]. Page.)
  Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow
   Shal. It wil be found so, (M[aster]. Page:) M[aster]. Doctor
I am come to fetch you home: I am sworn of the peace:
you haue show'd your selfe a wise Physician, and Sir
Hugh hath showne himselfe a wise and patient Churchman:
you must goe with me, M[aster]. Doctor
   Host. Pardon, Guest-Iustice; a Mounseur Mocke-water
   Cai. Mock-vater? vat is dat?
  Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is Valour
  Cai. By gar, then I haue as much Mock-vater as de
Englishman: scuruy-Iack-dog-Priest: by gar, mee vill
cut his eares
   Host. He will Clapper-claw thee tightly (Bully.)
  Cai. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat?
  Host. That is, he will make thee amends
   Cai. By-gar, me doe looke hee shall clapper-de-claw
me, for by-gar, me vill haue it
   Host. And I will prouoke him to't, or let him wag
   Cai. Me tanck you for dat
   Host. And moreouer, (Bully) but first, Mr. Ghuest,
and M[aster]. Page, & eeke Caualeiro Slender, goe you through
the Towne to Frogmore
   Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?
  Host. He is there, see what humor he is in: and I will
bring the Doctor about by the Fields: will it doe well?
  Shal. We will doe it
   All. Adieu, good M[aster]. Doctor
   Cai. By-gar, me vill kill de Priest, for he speake for a
Iack-an-Ape to Anne Page
   Host. Let him die: sheath thy impatience: throw cold
water on thy Choller: goe about the fields with mee
through Frogmore, I will bring thee where Mistris Anne
Page is, at a Farm-house a Feasting: and thou shalt wooe
her: Cride-game, said I well?
  Cai. By-gar, mee dancke you vor dat: by gar I loue
you: and I shall procure 'a you de good Guest: de Earle,
de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients
   Host. For the which, I will be thy aduersary toward
Anne Page: said I well?
  Cai. By-gar, 'tis good: vell said
   Host. Let vs wag then
   Cai. Come at my heeles, Iack Rugby.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
Enter Euans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Caius, Rugby.
  Euans. I pray you now, good Master Slenders seruingman,
and friend Simple by your name; which way haue
you look'd for Master Caius, that calls himselfe Doctor
   Sim. Marry Sir, the pittie-ward, the Parke-ward:
euery way: olde Windsor way, and euery way but the
   Euan. I most fehemently desire you, you will also
looke that way
   Sim. I will sir
   Euan. 'Plesse my soule: how full of Chollors I am, and
trempling of minde: I shall be glad if he haue deceiued
me: how melancholies I am? I will knog his Vrinalls about
his knaues costard, when I haue good oportunities
for the orke: 'Plesse my soule: To shallow Riuers to whose
falls: melodious Birds sings Madrigalls: There will we make
our Peds of Roses: and a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow:
'Mercie on mee, I haue a great dispositions to cry.
Melodious birds sing Madrigalls: - When as I sat in Pabilon:
and a thousand vagram Posies. To shallow, &c
   Sim. Yonder he is comming, this way, Sir Hugh
   Euan. Hee's welcome: To shallow Riuers, to whose fals:
Heauen prosper the right: what weapons is he?
  Sim. No weapons, Sir: there comes my Master, Mr.
Shallow, and another Gentleman; from Frogmore, ouer
the stile, this way
   Euan. Pray you giue mee my gowne, or else keepe it
in your armes
   Shal. How now Master Parson? good morrow good
Sir Hugh: keepe a Gamester from the dice, and a good
Studient from his booke, and it is wonderfull
   Slen. Ah sweet Anne Page
   Page. 'Saue you, good Sir Hugh
   Euan. 'Plesse you from his mercy-sake, all of you
   Shal. What? the Sword, and the Word?
Doe you study them both, Mr. Parson?
  Page. And youthfull still, in your doublet and hose,
this raw-rumaticke day?
  Euan. There is reasons, and causes for it
   Page. We are come to you, to doe a good office, Mr.
   Euan. Fery-well: what is it?
  Page. Yonder is a most reuerend Gentleman; who
(be-like) hauing receiued wrong by some person, is at
most odds with his owne grauity and patience, that euer
   Shal. I haue liued foure-score yeeres, and vpward: I
neuer heard a man of his place, grauity, and learning, so
wide of his owne respect
   Euan. What is he?
  Page. I thinke you know him: Mr. Doctor Caius the
renowned French Physician
   Euan. Got's-will, and his passion of my heart: I had
as lief you would tell me of a messe of porredge
   Page. Why?
  Euan. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
  Galen , and hee is a knaue besides: a cowardly knaue, as
you would desires to be acquainted withall
   Page. I warrant you, hee's the man should fight with
   Slen. O sweet Anne Page
   Shal. It appeares so by his weapons: keepe them asunder:
here comes Doctor Caius
   Page. Nay good Mr. Parson, keepe in your weapon
   Shal. So doe you, good Mr. Doctor
   Host. Disarme them, and let them question: let them
keepe their limbs whole, and hack our English
   Cai. I pray you let-a-mee speake a word with your
eare; vherefore vill you not meet-a me?
  Euan. Pray you vse your patience in good time
   Cai. By-gar, you are de Coward: de Iack dog: Iohn
   Euan. Pray you let vs not be laughing-stocks to other
mens humors: I desire you in friendship, and I will one
way or other make you amends: I will knog your Vrinal
about your knaues Cogs-combe
   Cai. Diable: Iack Rugby: mine Host de Iarteer: haue I
not stay for him, to kill him? haue I not at de place I did
  Euan. As I am a Christians-soule, now looke you:
this is the place appointed, Ile bee iudgement by mine
Host of the Garter
   Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaule, French & Welch,
Soule-Curer, and Body-Curer
   Cai. I, dat is very good, excellant
   Host. Peace, I say: heare mine Host of the Garter,
Am I politicke? Am I subtle? Am I a Machiuell?
Shall I loose my Doctor? No, hee giues me the Potions
and the Motions. Shall I loose my Parson? my Priest?
my Sir Hugh? No, he giues me the Prouerbes, and the
No-verbes. Giue me thy hand (Celestiall) so: Boyes of
Art, I haue deceiu'd you both: I haue directed you to
wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skinnes are
whole, and let burn'd Sacke be the issue: Come, lay their
swords to pawne: Follow me, Lad of peace, follow, follow,
   Shal. Trust me, a mad Host: follow Gentlemen, follow
   Slen. O sweet Anne Page
   Cai. Ha' do I perceiue dat? Haue you make-a-de-sot
of vs, ha, ha?
  Eua. This is well, he has made vs his vlowting-stog:
I desire you that we may be friends: and let vs knog our
praines together to be reuenge on this same scall
scuruy-cogging-companion
the Host of the Garter
   Cai. By gar, with all my heart: he promise to bring
me where is Anne Page: by gar he deceiue me too
   Euan. Well, I will smite his noddles: pray you follow.
Scena Secunda.
Mist.Page, Robin, Ford, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Euans,
  Mist.Page. Nay keepe your way (little Gallant) you
were wont to be a follower, but now you are a Leader:
whether had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your masters
  Rob. I had rather (forsooth) go before you like a man,
then follow him like a dwarfe
   M.Pa. O you are a flattering boy, now I see you'l be a
   Ford. Well met mistris Page, whether go you
   M.Pa. Truly Sir, to see your wife, is she at home?
  Ford. I, and as idle as she may hang together for want
of company: I thinke if your husbands were dead, you
two would marry
   M.Pa. Be sure of that, two other husbands
   Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cocke?
  M.Pa. I cannot tell what (the dickens) his name is my
husband had him of, what do you cal your Knights name sirrah?
  Rob. Sir Iohn Falstaffe
   Ford. Sir Iohn Falstaffe
   M.Pa. He, he, I can neuer hit on's name; there is such a
league betweene my goodman, and he: is your Wife at home
  Ford. Indeed she is
   M.Pa. By your leaue sir, I am sicke till I see her
   Ford. Has Page any braines? Hath he any eies? Hath he
any thinking? Sure they sleepe, he hath no vse of them:
why this boy will carrie a letter twentie mile as easie, as
a Canon will shoot point-blanke twelue score: hee peeces
out his wiues inclination: he giues her folly motion
and aduantage: and now she's going to my wife, & Falstaffes
boy with her: A man may heare this showre sing
in the winde; and Falstaffes boy with her: good plots,
they are laide, and our reuolted wiues share damnation
together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife,
plucke the borrowed vaile of modestie from the so-seeming
Mist[ris]. Page, divulge Page himselfe for a secure and
wilfull Acteon, and to these violent proceedings all my
neighbors shall cry aime. The clocke giues me my Qu,
and my assurance bids me search, there I shall finde Falstaffe:
I shall be rather praisd for this, then mock'd, for
it is as possitiue, as the earth is firme, that Falstaffe is
there: I will go
   Shal. Page, &c. Well met Mr Ford
   Ford. Trust me, a good knotte; I haue good cheere at
home, and I pray you all go with me
   Shal. I must excuse my selfe Mr Ford
   Slen. And so must I Sir,
We haue appointed to dine with Mistris Anne,
And I would not breake with her for more mony
Then Ile speake of
   Shal. We haue linger'd about a match betweene An
Page, and my cozen Slender, and this day wee shall haue
   Slen. I hope I haue your good will Father Page
   Pag. You haue Mr Slender, I stand wholly for you,
But my wife (Mr Doctor) is for you altogether
   Cai. I be-gar, and de Maid is loue-a-me: my nursh-a-Quickly
tell me so mush
   Host. What say you to yong Mr Fenton? He capers,
he dances, he has eies of youth: he writes verses, hee
speakes holliday, he smels April and May, he wil carry't,
he will carry't, 'tis in his buttons, he will carry't
   Page. Not by my consent I promise you. The Gentleman
is of no hauing, hee kept companie with the wilde
Prince, and Pointz: he is of too high a Region, he knows
too much: no, hee shall not knit a knot in his fortunes,
with the finger of my substance: if he take her, let him
take her simply: the wealth I haue waits on my consent,
and my consent goes not that way
   Ford. I beseech you heartily, some of you goe home
with me to dinner: besides your cheere you shall haue
sport, I will shew you a monster: Mr Doctor, you shal
go, so shall you Mr Page, and you Sir Hugh
   Shal. Well, fare you well:
We shall haue the freer woing at Mr Pages
   Cai. Go home Iohn Rugby, I come anon
   Host. Farewell my hearts, I will to my honest Knight
Falstaffe, and drinke Canarie with him
   Ford. I thinke I shall drinke in Pipe-wine first with
him, Ile make him dance. Will you go Gentles?
  All. Haue with you, to see this Monster.
Scena Tertia.
Enter M.Ford, M.Page, Seruants, Robin, Falstaffe, Ford, Page,
  Mist.Ford. What Iohn, what Robert
   M.Page. Quickly, quickly: Is the Buck-basket -
  Mis.Ford. I warrant. What Robin I say
   Mis.Page. Come, come, come
   Mist.Ford. Heere, set it downe
   M.Pag. Giue your men the charge, we must be briefe
   M.Ford. Marrie, as I told you before (Iohn & Robert)
be ready here hard-by in the Brew-house, & when I sodainly
call you, come forth, and (without any pause, or
staggering) take this basket on your shoulders: y done,
trudge with it in all hast, and carry it among the Whitsters
in Dotchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddie
ditch, close by the Thames side
   M.Page. You will do it?
  M.Ford. I ha told them ouer and ouer, they lacke no direction.
Be gone, and come when you are call'd
   M.Page. Here comes little Robin
   Mist.Ford. How now my Eyas-Musket, what newes with you?
  Rob. My M[aster]. Sir Iohn is come in at your backe doore
(Mist[ris]. Ford, and requests your company
   M.Page. You litle Iack-a-lent, haue you bin true to vs
  Rob. I, Ile be sworne: my Master knowes not of your
being heere: and hath threatned to put me into euerlasting
liberty, if I tell you of it: for he sweares he'll turne
   Mist.Pag. Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine
shall be a Tailor to thee, and shal make thee a new doublet
and hose. Ile go hide me
   Mi.Ford. Do so: go tell thy Master, I am alone: Mistris
Page, remember you your Qu
   Mist.Pag. I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hisse me
   Mist.Ford. Go-too then: we'l vse this vnwholsome
humidity, this grosse-watry Pumpion; we'll teach him
to know Turtles from Iayes
   Fal. Haue I caught thee, my heauenly Iewell? Why
now let me die, for I haue liu'd long enough: This is the
period of my ambition: O this blessed houre
   Mist.Ford. O sweet Sir Iohn
   Fal. Mistris Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate (Mist[ris].
Ford) now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy Husband
were dead, Ile speake it before the best Lord, I would
make thee my Lady
   Mist.Ford. I your Lady Sir Iohn? Alas, I should bee a
pittifull Lady
   Fal. Let the Court of France shew me such another:
I see how thine eye would emulate the Diamond: Thou
hast the right arched-beauty of the brow, that becomes
the Ship-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of Venetian
   Mist.Ford. A plaine Kerchiefe, Sir Iohn:
My browes become nothing else, nor that well neither
   Fal. Thou art a tyrant to say so: thou wouldst make
an absolute Courtier, and the firme fixture of thy foote,
would giue an excellent motion to thy gate, in a semicircled
Farthingale. I see what thou wert if Fortune thy
foe, were not Nature thy friend: Come, thou canst not
   Mist.Ford. Beleeue me, ther's no such thing in me
   Fal. What made me loue thee? Let that perswade
thee. Ther's something extraordinary in thee: Come, I
cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a-manie
of these lisping-hauthorne buds, that come like women
in mens apparrell, and smell like Bucklers-berry in simple
time: I cannot, but I loue thee, none but thee; and
thou deseru'st it
   M.Ford. Do not betray me sir, I fear you loue M[istris]. Page
   Fal. Thou mightst as well say, I loue to walke by the
Counter-gate, which is as hatefull to me, as the reeke of
   Mis.Ford. Well, heauen knowes how I loue you,
And you shall one day finde it
   Fal. Keepe in that minde, Ile deserue it
   Mist.Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you doe;
Or else I could not be in that minde
   Rob. Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford: heere's Mistris Page at
the doore, sweating, and blowing, and looking wildely,
and would needs speake with you presently
   Fal. She shall not see me, I will ensconce mee behinde
   M.Ford. Pray you do so, she's a very tatling woman.
Whats the matter? How now?
  Mist.Page. O mistris Ford what haue you done?
You'r sham'd, y'are ouerthrowne, y'are vndone for euer
   M.Ford. What's the matter, good mistris Page?
  M.Page. O weladay, mist[ris]. Ford, hauing an honest man
to your husband, to giue him such cause of suspition
   M.Ford. What cause of suspition?
  M.Page. What cause of suspition? Out vpon you:
How am I mistooke in you?
  M.Ford. Why (alas) what's the matter?
  M.Page. Your husband's comming hether (Woman)
with all the Officers in Windsor, to search for a Gentleman,
that he sayes is heere now in the house; by your
consent to take an ill aduantage of his absence: you are
   M.Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope
   M.Page. Pray heauen it be not so, that you haue such
a man heere: but 'tis most certaine your husband's comming,
with halfe Windsor at his heeles, to serch for such
a one, I come before to tell you: If you know your selfe
cleere, why I am glad of it: but if you haue a friend here,
conuey, conuey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your
senses to you, defend your reputation, or bid farwell to
your good life for euer
   M.Ford. What shall I do? There is a Gentleman my
deere friend: and I feare not mine owne shame so much,
as his perill. I had rather then a thousand pound he were
out of the house
   M.Page. For shame, neuer stand (you had rather, and
you had rather:) your husband's heere at hand, bethinke
you of some conueyance: in the house you cannot hide
him. Oh, how haue you deceiu'd me? Looke, heere is a
basket, if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creepe
in heere, and throw fowle linnen vpon him, as if it were
going to bucking: Or it is whiting time, send him by
your two men to Datchet-Meade
   M.Ford. He's too big to go in there: what shall I do?
  Fal. Let me see't, let me see't, O let me see't:
Ile in, Ile in: Follow your friends counsell, Ile in
   M.Page. What Sir Iohn Falstaffe? Are these your Letters,
  Fal. I loue thee, helpe mee away: let me creepe in
heere: ile neuer -
  M.Page. Helpe to couer your master (Boy:) Call
your men (Mist[ris]. Ford.) You dissembling Knight
   M.Ford. What Iohn, Robert, Iohn; Go, take vp these
cloathes heere, quickly: Wher's the Cowle-staffe? Look
how you drumble? Carry them to the Landresse in Datchet
mead: quickly, come
   Ford. 'Pray you come nere: if I suspect without cause,
Why then make sport at me, then let me be your iest,
I deserue it: How now? Whether beare you this?
  Ser. To the Landresse forsooth?
  M.Ford. Why, what haue you to doe whether they
beare it? You were best meddle with buck-washing
   Ford. Buck? I would I could wash my selfe of y Buck:
Bucke, bucke, bucke, I bucke: I warrant you Bucke,
And of the season too; it shall appeare.
Gentlemen, I haue dream'd to night, Ile tell you my
dreame: heere, heere, heere bee my keyes, ascend my
Chambers, search, seeke, finde out: Ile warrant wee'le
vnkennell the Fox. Let me stop this way first: so, now
   Page. Good master Ford, be contented:
You wrong your selfe too much
   Ford. True (master Page) vp Gentlemen,
You shall see sport anon:
Follow me Gentlemen
   Euans. This is fery fantasticall humors and iealousies
   Caius. By gar, 'tis no-the fashion of France:
It is not iealous in France
   Page. Nay follow him (Gentlemen) see the yssue of
   Mist.Page. Is there not a double excellency in this?
  Mist.Ford. I know not which pleases me better,
That my husband is deceiued, or Sir Iohn
   Mist.Page. What a taking was hee in, when your
husband askt who was in the basket?
  Mist.Ford. I am halfe affraid he will haue neede of
washing: so throwing him into the water, will doe him
   Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest rascall: I would all
of the same straine, were in the same distresse
   Mist.Ford. I thinke my husband hath some speciall
suspition of Falstaffs being heere: for I neuer saw him so
grosse in his iealousie till now
   Mist.Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and wee will
yet haue more trickes with Falstaffe: his dissolute disease
will scarse obey this medicine
   Mis.Ford. Shall we send that foolishion Carion, Mist[ris].
Quickly to him, and excuse his throwing into the water,
and giue him another hope, to betray him to another
  Mist.Page. We will do it: let him be sent for to morrow
eight a clocke to haue amends
   Ford. I cannot finde him: may be the knaue bragg'd
of that he could not compasse
   Mis.Page. Heard you that?
  Mis.Ford. You vse me well, M[aster]. Ford? Do you?
  Ford. I, I do so
   M.Ford. Heauen make you better then your thoghts
  Ford. Amen
   Mi.Page. You do your selfe mighty wrong (M[aster]. Ford)
  Ford. I, I: I must beare it
   Eu. If there be any pody in the house, & in the chambers,
and in the coffers, and in the presses: heauen forgiue
my sins at the day of iudgement
   Caius. Be gar, nor I too: there is no-bodies
   Page. Fy, fy, M[aster]. Ford, are you not asham'd? What spirit,
what diuell suggests this imagination? I wold not ha
your distemper in this kind, for y welth of Windsor castle
   Ford. 'Tis my fault (M[aster]. Page) I suffer for it
   Euans. You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is
as honest a o'mans, as I will desires among fiue thousand,
and fiue hundred too
   Cai. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman
   Ford. Well, I promisd you a dinner: come, come, walk
in the Parke, I pray you pardon me: I wil hereafter make
knowne to you why I haue done this. Come wife, come
Mi[stris]. Page, I pray you pardon me. Pray hartly pardon me
   Page. Let's go in Gentlemen, but (trust me) we'l mock
him: I doe inuite you to morrow morning to my house
to breakfast: after we'll a Birding together, I haue a fine
Hawke for the bush. Shall it be so:
  Ford. Any thing
   Eu. If there is one, I shall make two in the Companie
  Ca. If there be one, or two, I shall make-a-theturd
   Ford. Pray you go, M[aster]. Page
   Eua. I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the
lowsie knaue, mine Host
   Cai. Dat is good by gar, withall my heart
   Eua. A lowsie knaue, to haue his gibes, and his mockeries.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender, Quickly, Page,
  Fen. I see I cannot get thy Fathers loue,
Therefore no more turne me to him (sweet Nan.)
  Anne. Alas, how then?
  Fen. Why thou must be thy selfe.
He doth obiect, I am too great of birth,
And that my state being gall'd with my expence,
I seeke to heale it onely by his wealth.
Besides these, other barres he layes before me,
My Riots past, my wilde Societies,
And tels me 'tis a thing impossible
I should loue thee, but as a property
   An. May be he tels you true.
No, heauen so speed me in my time to come,
Albeit I will confesse, thy Fathers wealth
Was the first motiue that I woo'd thee (Anne:)
Yet wooing thee, I found thee of more valew
Then stampes in Gold, or summes in sealed bagges:
And 'tis the very riches of thy selfe,
That now I ayme at
   An. Gentle M[aster]. Fenton,
Yet seeke my Fathers loue, still seeke it sir,
If opportunity and humblest suite
Cannot attaine it, why then harke you hither
   Shal. Breake their talke Mistris Quickly.
My Kinsman shall speake for himselfe
   Slen. Ile make a shaft or a bolt on't, slid, tis but venturing
   Shal. Be not dismaid
   Slen. No, she shall not dismay me:
I care not for that, but that I am affeard
   Qui. Hark ye, M[aster]. Slender would speak a word with you
  An. I come to him. This is my Fathers choice:
O what a world of vilde ill-fauour'd faults
Lookes handsome in three hundred pounds a yeere?
  Qui. And how do's good Master Fenton?
Pray you a word with you
   Shal. Shee's comming; to her Coz:
O boy, thou hadst a father
   Slen. I had a father (M[istris]. An) my vncle can tel you good
iests of him: pray you Vncle, tel Mist[ris]. Anne the iest how
my Father stole two Geese out of a Pen, good Vnckle
   Shal. Mistris Anne, my Cozen loues you
   Slen. I that I do, as well as I loue any woman in Glocestershire
   Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman
   Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, vnder the
degree of a Squire
   Shal. He will make you a hundred and fiftie pounds
   Anne. Good Maister Shallow let him woo for himselfe
   Shal. Marrie I thanke you for it: I thanke you for
that good comfort: she cals you (Coz) Ile leaue you
   Anne. Now Master Slender
   Slen. Now good Mistris Anne
   Anne. What is your will?
  Slen. My will? Odd's-hartlings, that's a prettie
iest indeede: I ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Heauen:)
I am not such a sickely creature, I giue Heauen
   Anne. I meane (M[aster]. Slender) what wold you with me?
  Slen. Truely, for mine owne part, I would little or
nothing with you: your father and my vncle hath made
motions: if it be my lucke, so; if not, happy man bee his
dole, they can tell you how things go, better then I can:
you may aske your father, heere he comes
   Page. Now Mr Slender; Loue him daughter Anne.
Why how now? What does Mr Fenten here?
You wrong me Sir, thus still to haunt my house.
I told you Sir, my daughter is disposd of
   Fen. Nay Mr Page, be not impatient
   Mist.Page. Good M[aster]. Fenton, come not to my child
   Page. She is no match for you
   Fen. Sir, will you heare me?
  Page. No, good M[aster]. Fenton.
Come M[aster]. Shallow: Come sonne Slender, in;
Knowing my minde, you wrong me (M[aster]. Fenton.)
  Qui. Speake to Mistris Page
   Fen. Good Mist[ris]. Page, for that I loue your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checkes, rebukes, and manners,
I must aduance the colours of my loue,
And not retire. Let me haue your good will
   An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond foole
   Mist.Page. I meane it not, I seeke you a better husband
   Qui. That's my master, M[aster]. Doctor
   An. Alas I had rather be set quick i'th earth,
And bowl'd to death with Turnips
   Mist.Page. Come, trouble not your selfe good M[aster].
Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy:
My daughter will I question how she loues you,
And as I finde her, so am I affected:
Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in,
Her father will be angry
   Fen. Farewell gentle Mistris: farewell Nan
   Qui. This is my doing now: Nay, saide I, will you
cast away your childe on a Foole, and a Physitian:
Looke on M[aster]. Fenton, this is my doing
   Fen. I thanke thee: and I pray thee once to night,
Giue my sweet Nan this Ring: there's for thy paines
   Qui. Now heauen send thee good fortune, a kinde
heart he hath: a woman would run through fire & water
for such a kinde heart. But yet, I would my Maister
had Mistris Anne, or I would M[aster]. Slender had her: or (in
sooth) I would M[aster]. Fenton had her; I will do what I can
for them all three, for so I haue promisd, and Ile bee as
good as my word, but speciously for M[aster]. Fenton. Well, I
must of another errand to Sir Iohn Falstaffe from my two
Mistresses: what a beast am I to slacke it.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Quickly, Ford.
  Fal. Bardolfe I say
   Bar. Heere Sir
   Fal. Go, fetch me a quart of Sacke, put a tost in't.
Haue I liu'd to be carried in a Basket like a barrow of
butchers Offall? and to be throwne in the Thames? Wel,
if I be seru'd such another tricke, Ile haue my braines
'tane out and butter'd, and giue them to a dogge for a
New-yeares gift. The rogues slighted me into the riuer
with as little remorse, as they would haue drown'de a
blinde bitches Puppies, fifteene i'th litter: and you may
know by my size, that I haue a kinde of alacrity in sinking:
if the bottome were as deepe as hell, I shold down.
I had beene drown'd, but that the shore was sheluy and
shallow: a death that I abhorre: for the water swelles a
man; and what a thing should I haue beene, when I
had beene swel'd? I should haue beene a Mountaine of
   Bar. Here's M[istris]. Quickly Sir to speake with you
   Fal. Come, let me poure in some Sack to the Thames
water: for my bellies as cold as if I had swallow'd snowbals,
for pilles to coole the reines. Call her in
   Bar. Come in woman
   Qui. By your leaue: I cry you mercy?
Giue your worship good morrow
   Fal. Take away these Challices:
Go, brew me a pottle of Sacke finely
   Bard. With Egges, Sir?
  Fal. Simple of it selfe: Ile no Pullet-Spersme in my
brewage. How now?
  Qui. Marry Sir, I come to your worship from M[istris]. Ford
   Fal. Mist[ris]. Ford? I haue had Ford enough: I was thrown
into the Ford; I haue my belly full of Ford
   Qui. Alas the day, (good-heart) that was not her
fault: she do's so take on with her men; they mistooke
their erection
   Fal. So did I mine, to build vpon a foolish Womans promise
   Qui. Well, she laments Sir for it, that it would yern
your heart to see it: her husband goes this morning a
birding; she desires you once more to come to her, betweene
eight and nine: I must carry her word quickely,
she'll make you amends I warrant you
   Fal. Well, I will visit her, tell her so: and bidde her
thinke what a man is: Let her consider his frailety, and
then iudge of my merit
   Qui. I will tell her
   Fal. Do so. Betweene nine and ten saist thou?
  Qui. Eight and nine Sir
   Fal. Well, be gone: I will not misse her
   Qui. Peace be with you Sir
   Fal. I meruaile I heare not of Mr Broome: he sent me
word to stay within: I like his money well.
Oh, heere he comes
   Ford. Blesse you Sir
   Fal. Now M[aster]. Broome, you come to know
What hath past betweene me, and Fords wife
   Ford. That indeed (Sir Iohn) is my businesse
   Fal. M[aster]. Broome I will not lye to you,
I was at her house the houre she appointed me
   Ford. And sped you Sir?
  Fal. Very ill-fauouredly M[aster]. Broome
   Ford. How so sir, did she change her determination?
  Fal. No (M[aster]. Broome) but the peaking Curnuto her husband
(M[aster]. Broome) dwelling in a continual larum of ielousie,
coms me in the instant of our encounter, after we had
embrast, kist, protested, & (as it were) spoke the prologue
of our Comedy: and at his heeles, a rabble of his companions,
thither prouoked and instigated by his distemper,
and (forsooth) to serch his house for his wiues Loue
   Ford. What? While you were there?
  Fal. While I was there
   For. And did he search for you, & could not find you?
  Fal. You shall heare. As good lucke would haue it,
comes in one Mist[ris]. Page, giues intelligence of Fords approch:
and in her inuention, and Fords wiues distraction,
they conuey'd me into a bucke-basket
   Ford. A Buck-basket?
  Fal. Yes: a Buck-basket: ram'd mee in with foule
Shirts and Smockes, Socks, foule Stockings, greasie
Napkins, that (Master Broome) there was the rankest
compound of villanous smell, that euer offended nostrill
   Ford. And how long lay you there?
  Fal. Nay, you shall heare (Master Broome) what I
haue sufferd, to bring this woman to euill, for your
good: Being thus cram'd in the Basket, a couple of
Fords knaues, his Hindes, were cald forth by their Mistris,
to carry mee in the name of foule Cloathes to
Datchet-lane: they tooke me on their shoulders: met
the iealous knaue their Master in the doore; who
ask'd them once or twice what they had in their Basket?
I quak'd for feare least the Lunatique Knaue
would haue search'd it: but Fate (ordaining he should
be a Cuckold) held his hand: well, on went hee, for
a search, and away went I for foule Cloathes: But
marke the sequell (Master Broome) I suffered the pangs
of three seuerall deaths: First, an intollerable fright,
to be detected with a iealious rotten Bell-weather:
Next to be compass'd like a good Bilbo in the circumference
of a Pecke, hilt to point, heele to head. And
then to be stopt in like a strong distillation with stinking
Cloathes, that fretted in their owne grease:
thinke of that, a man of my Kidney; thinke of that,
that am as subiect to heate as butter; a man of continuall
dissolution, and thaw: it was a miracle to scape
suffocation. And in the height of this Bath (when I
was more then halfe stew'd in grease (like a Dutch-dish)
to be throwne into the Thames, and
coold, glowing-hot, in that serge like a Horse-shoo;
thinke of that; hissing hot: thinke of that (Master
  Ford. In good sadnesse Sir, I am sorry, that for my sake
you haue sufferd all this.
My suite then is desperate: You'll vndertake her no
  Fal. Master Broome: I will be throwne into Etna,
as I haue beene into Thames, ere I will leaue her thus;
her Husband is this morning gone a Birding: I
haue receiued from her another ambassie of meeting:
'twixt eight and nine is the houre (Master
  Ford. 'Tis past eight already Sir
   Fal. Is it? I will then addresse mee to my appointment:
Come to mee at your conuenient leisure, and
you shall know how I speede: and the conclusion
shall be crowned with your enioying her: adiew: you
shall haue her (Master Broome) Master Broome, you shall
cuckold Ford
   Ford. Hum: ha? Is this a vision? Is this a dreame?
doe I sleepe? Master Ford awake, awake Master Ford:
ther's a hole made in your best coate (Master Ford:) this
'tis to be married; this 'tis to haue Lynnen, and Buckbaskets:
Well, I will proclaime my selfe what I am:
I will now take the Leacher: hee is at my house: hee
cannot scape me: 'tis impossible hee should: hee cannot
creepe into a halfe-penny purse, nor into a PepperBoxe:
But least the Diuell that guides him, should
aide him, I will search impossible places: though
what I am, I cannot auoide; yet to be what I would
not, shall not make me tame: If I haue hornes, to make
one mad, let the prouerbe goe with me, Ile be hornemad.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Mistris Page, Quickly, William, Euans.
  Mist.Pag. Is he at M[aster]. Fords already think'st thou?
  Qui. Sure he is by this; or will be presently; but
truely he is very couragious mad, about his throwing
into the water. Mistris Ford desires you to come sodainely
   Mist.Pag. Ile be with her by and by: Ile but bring
my yong-man here to Schoole: looke where his Master
comes; 'tis a playing day I see: how now Sir Hugh, no
Schoole to day?
  Eua. No: Master Slender is let the Boyes leaue to play
   Qui 'Blessing of his heart
   Mist.Pag. Sir Hugh, my husband saies my sonne profits
nothing in the world at his Booke: I pray you aske
him some questions in his Accidence
   Eu. Come hither William; hold vp your head; come
   Mist.Pag. Come-on Sirha; hold vp your head; answere
your Master, be not afraid
   Eua. William, how many Numbers is in Nownes?
   Qui. Truely, I thought there had bin one Number
more, because they say od's-Nownes
   Eua. Peace, your tatlings. What is (Faire) William?
  Will. Pulcher
   Qu. Powlcats? there are fairer things then Powlcats,
   Eua. You are a very simplicity o'man: I pray you
peace. What is (Lapis) William?
  Will. A Stone
   Eua. And what is a Stone (William?)
  Will. A Peeble
   Eua. No; it is Lapis: I pray you remember in your
   Will. Lapis
   Eua. That is a good William: what is he (William) that
do's lend Articles
   Will. Articles are borrowed of the Pronoune; and be
thus declined. Singulariter nominatiuo hic, haec, hoc
   Eua. Nominatiuo hig, hag, hog: pray you marke: genitiuo
huius: Well: what is your Accusatiue-case?
  Will. Accusatiuo hinc
   Eua. I pray you haue your remembrance (childe) Accusatiuo
hing, hang, hog
   Qu. Hang-hog, is latten for Bacon, I warrant you
   Eua. Leaue your prables (o'man) What is the Focatiue
case (William?)
  Will. O, Vocatiuo, O
   Eua. Remember William, Focatiue, is caret
   Qu. And that's a good roote
   Eua. O'man, forbeare
   Mist.Pag. Peace
   Eua. What is your Genitiue case plurall (William?)
  Will. Genitiue case?
   Will. Genitiue horum, harum, horum
   Qu. 'Vengeance of Ginyes case; fie on her; neuer
name her (childe) if she be a whore
   Eua. For shame o'man
   Qu. You doe ill to teach the childe such words: hee
teaches him to hic, and to hac; which they'll doe fast
enough of themselues, and to call horum; fie vpon you
   Euans. O'man, art thou Lunatics? Hast thou no vnderstandings
for thy Cases, & the numbers of the Genders?
Thou art as foolish Christian creatures, as I would
   Mi.Page. Pre'thee hold thy peace
   Eu. Shew me now (William) some declensions of your
   Will. Forsooth, I haue forgot
   Eu. It is Qui, que, quod; if you forget your Quies,
your Ques, and your Quods, you must be preeches: Goe
your waies and play, go
   M.Pag. He is a better scholler then I thought he was
   Eu. He is a good sprag-memory: Farewel Mis[tris]. Page
   Mis.Page. Adieu good Sir Hugh:
Get you home boy, Come we stay too long.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Falstoffe, Mist.Ford, Mist.Page, Seruants, Ford, Page, Caius,
  Fal. Mi[stris]. Ford, Your sorrow hath eaten vp my sufferance;
I see you are obsequious in your loue, and I professe
requitall to a haires bredth, not onely Mist[ris]. Ford,
in the simple office of loue, but in all the accustrement,
complement, and ceremony of it: But are you sure of
your husband now?
  Mis.Ford. Hee's a birding (sweet Sir Iohn.)
  Mis.Page. What hoa, gossip Ford: what hoa
   Mis.Ford. Step into th' chamber, Sir Iohn
   Mis.Page. How now (sweete heart) whose at home
besides your selfe?
  Mis.Ford. Why none but mine owne people
   Mis.Page. Indeed?
  Mis.Ford. No certainly: Speake louder
   Mist.Pag. Truly, I am so glad you haue no body here
   Mist.Ford. Why?
  Mis.Page. Why woman, your husband is in his olde
lines againe: he so takes on yonder with my husband, so
railes against all married mankinde; so curses all Eues
daughters, of what complexion soeuer; and so buffettes
himselfe on the for-head: crying peere-out, peere-out,
that any madnesse I euer yet beheld, seem'd but tamenesse,
ciuility, and patience to this his distemper he is in
now: I am glad the fat Knight is not heere
   Mist.Ford. Why, do's he talke of him?
  Mist.Page. Of none but him, and sweares he was caried
out the last time hee search'd for him, in a Basket:
Protests to my husband he is now heere, & hath drawne
him and the rest of their company from their sport, to
make another experiment of his suspition: But I am glad
the Knight is not heere; now he shall see his owne foolerie
   Mist.Ford. How neere is he Mistris Page?
  Mist.Pag. Hard by, at street end; he wil be here anon
   Mist.Ford. I am vndone, the Knight is heere
   Mist.Page. Why then you are vtterly sham'd, & hee's
but a dead man. What a woman are you? Away with
him, away with him: Better shame, then murther
   Mist.Ford. Which way should he go? How should I
bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket againe?
  Fal. No, Ile come no more i'th Basket:
May I not go out ere he come?
  Mist.Page. Alas: three of Mr. Fords brothers watch
the doore with Pistols, that none shall issue out: otherwise
you might slip away ere hee came: But what make
  Fal. What shall I do? Ile creepe vp into the chimney
   Mist.Ford. There they alwaies vse to discharge their
Birding-peeces: creepe into the Kill-hole
   Fal. Where is it?
  Mist.Ford. He will seeke there on my word: Neyther
Presse, Coffer, Chest, Trunke, Well, Vault, but he hath
an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes
to them by his Note: There is no hiding you in the
   Fal. Ile go out then
   Mist.Ford. If you goe out in your owne semblance,
you die Sir Iohn, vnlesse you go out disguis'd
   Mist.Ford. How might we disguise him?
  Mist.Page. Alas the day I know not, there is no womans
gowne bigge enough for him: otherwise he might
put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchiefe, and so escape
   Fal. Good hearts, deuise something: any extremitie,
rather then a mischiefe
   Mist.Ford. My Maids Aunt the fat woman of Brainford,
has a gowne aboue
   Mist.Page. On my word it will serue him: shee's as
big as he is: and there's her thrum'd hat, and her muffler
too: run vp Sir Iohn
   Mist.Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir Iohn: Mistris Page and
I will looke some linnen for your head
   Mist.Page. Quicke, quicke, wee'le come dresse you
straight: put on the gowne the while
   Mist.Ford. I would my husband would meete him
in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford;
he sweares she's a witch, forbad her my house, and
hath threatned to beate her
   Mist.Page. Heauen guide him to thy husbands cudgell:
and the diuell guide his cudgell afterwards
   Mist.Ford. But is my husband comming?
  Mist.Page. I in good sadnesse is he, and talkes of the
basket too, howsoeuer he hath had intelligence
   Mist.Ford. Wee'l try that: for Ile appoint my men to
carry the basket againe, to meete him at the doore with
it, as they did last time
   Mist.Page. Nay, but hee'l be heere presently: let's go
dresse him like the witch of Brainford
   Mist.Ford. Ile first direct my men, what they
shall doe with the basket: Goe vp, Ile bring linnen for
him straight
   Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest Varlet,
We cannot misuse enough:
We'll leaue a proofe by that which we will doo,
Wiues may be merry, and yet honest too:
We do not acte that often, iest, and laugh,
'Tis old, but true, Still Swine eats all the draugh
   Mist.Ford. Go Sirs, take the basket againe on your
shoulders: your Master is hard at doore: if hee bid you
set it downe, obey him: quickly, dispatch
   1 Ser. Come, come, take it vp
   2 Ser. Pray heauen it be not full of Knight againe
   1 Ser. I hope not, I had liefe as beare so much lead
   Ford. I, but if it proue true (Mr. Page) haue you any
way then to vnfoole me againe. Set downe the basket
villaine: some body call my wife: Youth in a basket:
Oh you Panderly Rascals, there's a knot: a gin, a packe,
a conspiracie against me: Now shall the diuel be sham'd.
What wife I say: Come, come forth: behold what honest
cloathes you send forth to bleaching
   Page. Why, this passes M[aster]. Ford: you are not to goe
loose any longer, you must be pinnion'd
   Euans. Why, this is Lunaticks: this is madde, as a
   Shall. Indeed M[aster]. Ford, this is not well indeed
   Ford. So say I too Sir, come hither Mistris Ford, Mistris
Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the vertuous
creature, that hath the iealious foole to her husband:
I suspect without cause (Mistris) do I?
  Mist.Ford. Heauen be my witnesse you doe, if you
suspect me in any dishonesty
   Ford. Well said Brazon-face, hold it out: Come forth
   Page. This passes
   Mist.Ford. Are you not asham'd, let the cloths alone
   Ford. I shall finde you anon
   Eua. 'Tis vnreasonable; will you take vp your wiues
cloathes? Come, away
   Ford. Empty the basket I say
   M.Ford. Why man, why?
  Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conuay'd
out of my house yesterday in this basket: why
may not he be there againe, in my house I am sure he is:
my Intelligence is true, my iealousie is reasonable, pluck
me out all the linnen
   Mist.Ford. If you find a man there, he shall dye a Fleas
   Page. Heer's no man
   Shal. By my fidelity this is not well Mr. Ford: This
   Euans. Mr Ford, you must pray, and not follow the
imaginations of your owne heart: this is iealousies
   Ford. Well, hee's not heere I seeke for
   Page. No, nor no where else but in your braine
   Ford. Helpe to search my house this one time: if I find
not what I seeke, shew no colour for my extremity: Let
me for euer be your Table-sport: Let them say of me, as
iealous as Ford, that search'd a hollow Wall-nut for his
wiues Lemman. Satisfie me once more, once more serch
   M.Ford. What hoa (Mistris Page,) come you and
the old woman downe: my husband will come into the
   Ford. Old woman? what old womans that?
  M.Ford. Why it is my maids Aunt of Brainford
   Ford. A witch, a Queane, an olde couzening queane:
Haue I not forbid her my house. She comes of errands
do's she? We are simple men, wee doe not know what's
brought to passe vnder the profession of Fortune-telling.
She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th' Figure, & such
dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know nothing.
Come downe you Witch, you Hagge you, come
   Mist.Ford. Nay, good sweet husband, good Gentlemen,
let him strike the old woman
   Mist.Page. Come mother Prat, Come giue me your
   Ford. Ile Prat-her: Out of my doore, you Witch,
you Ragge, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion,
out, out: Ile coniure you, Ile fortune-tell you
   Mist.Page. Are you not asham'd?
I thinke you haue kill'd the poore woman
   Mist.Ford. Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite
   Ford. Hang her witch
   Eua. By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a witch indeede:
I like not when a o'man has a great peard; I spie
a great peard vnder his muffler
   Ford. Will you follow Gentlemen, I beseech you follow:
see but the issue of my iealousie: If I cry out thus
vpon no traile, neuer trust me when I open againe
   Page. Let's obey his humour a little further:
Come Gentlemen
   Mist.Page. Trust me he beate him most pittifully
   Mist.Ford. Nay by th' Masse that he did not: he beate
him most vnpittifully, me thought
   Mist.Page. Ile haue the cudgell hallow'd, and hung
ore the Altar, it hath done meritorious seruice
   Mist.Ford. What thinke you? May we with the warrant
of woman-hood, and the witnesse of a good conscience,
pursue him with any further reuenge?
  M.Page. The spirit of wantonnesse is sure scar'd out
of him, if the diuell haue him not in fee-simple, with
fine and recouery, he will neuer (I thinke) in the way of
waste, attempt vs againe
   Mist.Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how wee haue
  Mist.Page. Yes, by all meanes: if it be but to scrape
the figures out of your husbands braines: if they can find
in their hearts, the poore vnuertuous fat Knight shall be
any further afflicted, wee two will still bee the ministers
   Mist.Ford. Ile warrant, they'l haue him publiquely
sham'd, and me thinkes there would be no period to the
iest, should he not be publikely sham'd
   Mist.Page. Come, to the Forge with it, then shape it:
I would not haue things coole.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Host and Bardolfe.
  Bar. Sir, the Germane desires to haue three of your
horses: the Duke himselfe will be to morrow at Court,
and they are going to meet him
   Host. What Duke should that be comes so secretly?
I heare not of him in the Court: let mee speake with the
Gentlemen, they speake English?
  Bar. I Sir? Ile call him to you
   Host. They shall haue my horses, but Ile make them
pay: Ile sauce them, they haue had my houses a week at
commaund: I haue turn'd away my other guests, they
must come off, Ile sawce them, come.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Page, Ford, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, and Euans.
  Eua. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a o'man as euer
I did looke vpon
   Page. And did he send you both these Letters at an
  Mist.Page. Within a quarter of an houre
   Ford. Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what y wilt:
I rather will suspect the Sunne with gold,
Then thee with wantonnes: Now doth thy honor stand
(In him that was of late an Heretike)
As firme as faith
   Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well, no more:
Be not as extreme in submission, as in offence,
But let our plot go forward: Let our wiues
Yet once againe (to make vs publike sport)
Appoint a meeting with this old fat-fellow,
Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it
   Ford. There is no better way then that they spoke of
   Page. How? to send him word they'll meete him in
the Parke at midnight? Fie, fie, he'll neuer come
   Eu. You say he has bin throwne in the Riuers: and
has bin greeuously peaten, as an old o'man: me-thinkes
there should be terrors in him, that he should not come:
Me-thinkes his flesh is punish'd, hee shall haue no desires
   Page. So thinke I too
   M.Ford. Deuise but how you'l vse him whe[n] he comes,
And let vs two deuise to bring him thether
   Mis.Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne the
Hunter (sometime a keeper heere in Windsor Forrest)
Doth all the winter time, at still midnight
Walke round about an Oake, with great rag'd-hornes,
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,
And make milch-kine yeeld blood, and shakes a chaine
In a most hideous and dreadfull manner.
You haue heard of such a Spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed-Eld
Receiu'd, and did deliuer to our age
This tale of Herne the Hunter, for a truth
   Page. Why yet there want not many that do feare
In deepe of night to walke by this Hernes Oake:
But what of this?
  Mist.Ford. Marry this is our deuise,
That Falstaffe at that Oake shall meete with vs
   Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come,
And in this shape, when you haue brought him thether,
What shall be done with him? What is your plot?
  Mist.Pa. That likewise haue we thoght vpon: & thus:
Nan Page (my daughter) and my little sonne,
And three or foure more of their growth, wee'l dresse
Like Vrchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white,
With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands; vpon a sodaine,
As Falstaffe, she, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once
With some diffused song: Vpon their sight
We two, in great amazednesse will flye:
Then let them all encircle him about,
And Fairy-like to pinch the vncleane Knight;
And aske him why that houre of Fairy Reuell,
In their so sacred pathes, he dares to tread
In shape prophane
   Ford. And till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed Fairies pinch him, sound,
And burne him with their Tapers
   Mist.Page. The truth being knowne,
We'll all present our selues; dis-horne the spirit,
And mocke him home to Windsor
   Ford. The children must
Be practis'd well to this, or they'll neu'r doo't
   Eua. I will teach the children their behauiours: and I
will be like a Iacke-an-Apes also, to burne the Knight
with my Taber
   Ford. That will be excellent,
Ile go buy them vizards
   Mist.Page. My Nan shall be the Queene of all the
Fairies, finely attired in a robe of white
   Page. That silke will I go buy, and in that time
Shall M[aster]. Slender steale my Nan away,
And marry her at Eaton: go, send to Falstaffe straight
   Ford. Nay, Ile to him againe in name of Broome,
Hee'l tell me all his purpose: sure hee'l come
   Mist.Page. Feare not you that: Go get vs properties
And tricking for our Fayries
   Euans. Let vs about it,
It is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaueries
   Mis.Page. Go Mist[ris]. Ford,
Send quickly to Sir Iohn, to know his minde:
Ile to the Doctor, he hath my good will,
And none but he to marry with Nan Page:
That Slender (though well landed) is an Ideot:
And he, my husband best of all affects:
The Doctor is well monied, and his friends
Potent at Court: he, none but he shall haue her,
Though twenty thousand worthier come to craue her.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Host, Simple, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Euans, Caius, Quickly.
  Host. What wouldst thou haue? (Boore) what? (thick
skin) speake, breathe, discusse: breefe, short, quicke,
   Simp. Marry Sir, I come to speake with Sir Iohn Falstaffe
from M[aster]. Slender
   Host. There's his Chamber, his House, his Castle,
his standing-bed and truckle-bed: 'tis painted about
with the story of the Prodigall, fresh and new: go, knock
and call: hee'l speake like an Anthropophaginian vnto
thee: Knocke I say
   Simp. There's an olde woman, a fat woman gone vp
into his chamber: Ile be so bold as stay Sir till she come
downe: I come to speake with her indeed
   Host. Ha? A fat woman? The Knight may be robb'd:
Ile call. Bully-Knight, Bully Sir Iohn: speake from thy
Lungs Military: Art thou there? It is thine Host, thine
Ephesian cals
   Fal. How now, mine Host?
  Host. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar taries the comming
downe of thy fat-woman: Let her descend (Bully) let
her descend: my Chambers are honourable: Fie, priuacy?
   Fal. There was (mine Host) an old-fat-woman euen
now with me, but she's gone
   Simp. Pray you Sir, was't not the Wise-woman of
  Fal. I marry was it (Mussel-shell) what would you
  Simp. My Master (Sir) my master Slender, sent to her
seeing her go thorough the streets, to know (Sir) whether
one Nim (Sir) that beguil'd him of a chaine, had the
chaine, or no
   Fal. I spake with the old woman about it
   Sim. And what sayes she, I pray Sir?
  Fal. Marry shee sayes, that the very same man that
beguil'd Master Slender of his Chaine, cozon'd him of it
   Simp. I would I could haue spoken with the Woman
her selfe, I had other things to haue spoken with her
too, from him
   Fal. What are they? let vs know
   Host. I: come: quicke
   Fal. I may not conceale them (Sir.)
  Host. Conceale them, or thou di'st
   Sim. Why sir, they were nothing but about Mistris
Anne Page, to know if it were my Masters fortune to
haue her, or no
   Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune
   Sim. What Sir?
  Fal. To haue her, or no: goe; say the woman told
   Sim. May I be bold to say so Sir?
  Fal. I Sir: like who more bold
   Sim. I thanke your worship: I shall make my Master
glad with these tydings
   Host. Thou art clearkly: thou art clearkly (Sir Iohn)
was there a wise woman with thee?
  Fal. I that there was (mine Host) one that hath taught
me more wit, then euer I learn'd before in my life: and
I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning
   Bar. Out alas (Sir) cozonage: meere cozonage
   Host. Where be my horses? speake well of them varletto
   Bar. Run away with the cozoners: for so soone as
I came beyond Eaton, they threw me off, from behinde
one of them, in a slough of myre; and set spurres, and
away; like three Germane-diuels; three Doctor Faustasses
   Host. They are gone but to meete the Duke (villaine)
doe not say they be fled: Germanes are honest men
   Euan. Where is mine Host?
  Host. What is the matter Sir?
  Euan. Haue a care of your entertainments: there is a
friend of mine come to Towne, tels mee there is three
Cozen-Iermans, that has cozend all the Hosts of Reading,
of Maidenhead; of Cole-brooke, of horses and money: I
tell you for good will (looke you) you are wise, and full
of gibes, and vlouting-stocks: and 'tis not conuenient
you should be cozoned. Fare you well
   Cai. Ver' is mine Host de Iarteere?
  Host. Here (Master Doctor) in perplexitie, and doubtfull
   Cai. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a-me, dat
you make grand preparation for a Duke de Iamanie: by
my trot: der is no Duke that the Court is know, to
come: I tell you for good will: adieu
   Host. Huy and cry, (villaine) goe: assist me Knight, I
am vndone: fly, run: huy, and cry (villaine) I am vndone
   Fal. I would all the world might be cozond, for I
haue beene cozond and beaten too: if it should come
to the eare of the Court, how I haue beene transformed;
and how my transformation hath beene washd, and
cudgeld, they would melt mee out of my fat drop by
drop, and liquor Fishermens-boots with me: I warrant
they would whip me with their fine wits, till I were as
crest-falne as a dride-peare: I neuer prosper'd, since I
forswore my selfe at Primero: well, if my winde were
but long enough; I would repent: Now? Whence come
  Qui. From the two parties forsooth
   Fal. The Diuell take one partie, and his Dam the
other: and so they shall be both bestowed; I haue suffer'd
more for their sakes; more then the villanous inconstancy
of mans disposition is able to beare
   Qui. And haue not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant; speciously
one of them; Mistris Ford (good heart) is beaten
blacke and blew, that you cannot see a white spot about
   Fal. What tell'st thou mee of blacke, and blew? I
was beaten my selfe into all the colours of the Rainebow:
and I was like to be apprehended for the Witch
of Braineford, but that my admirable dexteritie of wit,
my counterfeiting the action of an old woman deliuer'd
me, the knaue Constable had set me ith' Stocks, ith' common
Stocks, for a Witch
   Qu, Sir: let me speake with you in your Chamber,
you shall heare how things goe, and (I warrant) to your
content: here is a Letter will say somewhat: (good-hearts)
what adoe here is to bring you together? Sure,
one of you do's not serue heauen well, that you are so
   Fal. Come vp into my Chamber.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Fenton, Host.
  Host. Master Fenton, talke not to mee, my minde is
heauy: I will giue ouer all
   Fen. Yet heare me speake: assist me in my purpose,
And (as I am a gentleman) ile giue thee
A hundred pound in gold, more then your losse
   Host. I will heare you (Master Fenton) and I will (at
the least) keepe your counsell
   Fen. From time to time, I haue acquainted you
With the deare loue I beare to faire Anne Page,
Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection,
(So farre forth, as her selfe might be her chooser)
Euen to my wish; I haue a letter from her
Of such contents, as you will wonder at;
The mirth whereof, so larded with my matter,
That neither (singly) can be manifested
Without the shew of both: fat Falstaffe
Hath a great Scene; the image of the iest
Ile show you here at large (harke good mine Host:)
To night at Hernes-Oke, iust 'twixt twelue and one,
Must my sweet Nan present the Faerie-Queene:
The purpose why, is here: in which disguise
While other Iests are something ranke on foote,
Her father hath commanded her to slip
Away with Slender, and with him, at Eaton
Immediately to Marry: She hath consented: Now Sir,
Her Mother, (euen strong against that match
And firme for Doctor Caius) hath appointed
That he shall likewise shuffle her away,
While other sports are tasking of their mindes,
And at the Deanry, where a Priest attends
Strait marry her: to this her Mothers plot
She seemingly obedient) likewise hath
Made promise to the Doctor: Now, thus it rests,
Her Father meanes she shall be all in white;
And in that habit, when Slender sees his time
To take her by the hand, and bid her goe,
She shall goe with him: her Mother hath intended
(The better to deuote her to the Doctor;
For they must all be mask'd, and vizarded)
That quaint in greene, she shall be loose en-roab'd,
With Ribonds-pendant, flaring 'bout her head;
And when the Doctor spies his vantage ripe,
To pinch her by the hand, and on that token,
The maid hath giuen consent to go with him
   Host. Which meanes she to deceiue? Father, or Mother
   Fen. Both (my good Host) to go along with me:
And heere it rests, that you'l procure the Vicar
To stay for me at Church, 'twixt twelue, and one,
And in the lawfull name of marrying,
To giue our hearts vnited ceremony
   Host. Well, husband your deuice; Ile to the Vicar,
Bring you the Maid, you shall not lacke a Priest
   Fen. So shall I euermore be bound to thee;
Besides, Ile make a present recompence.
Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Falstoffe, Quickly, and Ford.
  Fal. Pre'thee no more pratling: go, Ile hold, this is
the third time: I hope good lucke lies in odde numbers:
Away, go, they say there is Diuinity in odde Numbers,
either in natiuity, chance, or death: away
   Qui. Ile prouide you a chaine, and Ile do what I can
to get you a paire of hornes
   Fall. Away I say, time weares, hold vp your head &
mince. How now M[aster]. Broome? Master Broome, the matter
will be knowne to night, or neuer. Bee you in the
Parke about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you shall
   Ford. Went you not to her yesterday (Sir) as you told
me you had appointed?
  Fal. I went to her (Master Broome) as you see, like a
poore-old-man, but I came from her (Master Broome)
like a poore-old-woman; that same knaue (Ford hir husband)
hath the finest mad diuell of iealousie in him (Master
Broome) that euer gouern'd Frensie. I will tell you,
he beate me greeuously, in the shape of a woman: (for in
the shape of Man (Master Broome) I feare not Goliath
with a Weauers beame, because I know also, life is a
Shuttle) I am in hast, go along with mee, Ile tell you all
(Master Broome:) since I pluckt Geese, plaide Trewant,
and whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till
lately. Follow mee, Ile tell you strange things of this
knaue Ford, on whom to night I will be reuenged, and I
will deliuer his wife into your hand. Follow, straunge
things in hand (M[aster]. Broome) follow.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Page, Shallow, Slender.
  Page. Come, come: wee'll couch i'th Castle-ditch,
till we see the light of our Fairies. Remember son Slender,
  Slen. I forsooth, I haue spoke with her, & we haue
a nay-word, how to know one another. I come to her
in white, and cry Mum; she cries Budget, and by that
we know one another
   Shal. That's good too: But what needes either your
Mum, or her Budget? The white will decipher her well
enough. It hath strooke ten a' clocke
   Page. The night is darke, Light and Spirits will become
it wel: Heauen prosper our sport. No man means
euill but the deuill, and we shal know him by his hornes.
Lets away: follow me.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Mist.Page, Mist.Ford, Caius.
  Mist.Page. Mr Doctor, my daughter is in green, when
you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her
to the Deanerie, and dispatch it quickly: go before into
the Parke: we two must go together
   Cai. I know vat I haue to do, adieu
   Mist.Page. Fare you well (Sir:) my husband will not
reioyce so much at the abuse of Falstaffe, as he will chafe
at the Doctors marrying my daughter: But 'tis no matter;
better a little chiding, then a great deale of heartbreake
   Mist.Ford. Where is Nan now? and her troop of Fairies?
and the Welch-deuill Herne?
  Mist.Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Hernes
Oake, with obscur'd Lights; which at the very instant
of Falstaffes and our meeting, they will at once display to
   Mist.Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him
   Mist.Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd: If
he be amaz'd, he will euery way be mock'd
   Mist.Ford. Wee'll betray him finely
   Mist.Page. Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery,
Those that betray them, do no treachery
   Mist.Ford. The houre drawes-on: to the Oake, to the
Scena Quarta.
Enter Euans and Fairies.
  Euans. Trib, trib Fairies: Come, and remember your
parts: be pold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and
when I giue the watch-'ords, do as I pid you: Come,
come, trib, trib.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Falstaffe, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Euans, Anne Page,
Page, Ford, Quickly, Slender, Fenton, Caius, Pistoll.
  Fal. The Windsor-bell hath stroke twelue: the Minute
drawes-on: Now the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me:
Remember Ioue, thou was't a Bull for thy Europa, Loue
set on thy hornes. O powerfull Loue, that in some respects
makes a Beast a Man: in som other, a Man a beast.
You were also (Iupiter) a Swan, for the loue of Leda: O
omnipotent Loue, how nere the God drew to the complexion
of a Goose: a fault done first in the forme of a
beast, (O Ioue, a beastly fault:) and then another fault,
in the semblance of a Fowle, thinke on't (Ioue) a fowle-fault.
When Gods haue hot backes, what shall poore
men do? For me, I am heere a Windsor Stagge, and the
fattest (I thinke) i'th Forrest. Send me a coole rut-time
(Ioue) or who can blame me to pisse my Tallow? Who
comes heere? my Doe?
  M.Ford. Sir Iohn? Art thou there (my Deere?)
My male-Deere?
  Fal. My Doe, with the blacke Scut? Let the skie
raine Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greenesleeues,
haile-kissing Comfits, and snow Eringoes: Let
there come a tempest of prouocation, I will shelter mee
   M.Ford. Mistris Page is come with me (sweet hart.)
  Fal. Diuide me like a brib'd-Bucke, each a Haunch:
I will keepe my sides to my selfe, my shoulders for the
fellow of this walke; and my hornes I bequeath your
husbands. Am I a Woodman, ha? Speake I like Herne
the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience,
he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome
   M.Page. Alas, what noise?
  M.Ford. Heauen forgiue our sinnes
   Fal. What should this be?
  M.Ford. M.Page. Away, away
   Fal. I thinke the diuell wil not haue me damn'd,
Least the oyle that's in me should set hell on fire;
He would neuer else crosse me thus.
Enter Fairies.
  Qui. Fairies blacke, gray, greene, and white,
You Moone-shine reuellers, and shades of night.
You Orphan heires of fixed destiny,
Attend your office, and your quality.
Crier Hob-goblyn, make the Fairy Oyes
   Pist. Elues, list your names: Silence you aiery toyes.
Cricket, to Windsor-chimnies shalt thou leape;
Where fires thou find'st vnrak'd, and hearths vnswept,
There pinch the Maids as blew as Bill-berry,
Our radiant Queene, hates Sluts, and Sluttery
   Fal. They are Fairies, he that speaks to them shall die,
Ile winke, and couch: No man their workes must eie
   Eu. Wher's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid
That ere she sleepe has thrice her prayers said,
Raise vp the Organs of her fantasie,
Sleepe she as sound as carelesse infancie,
But those as sleepe, and thinke not on their sins,
Pinch them armes, legs, backes, shoulders, sides, & shins
   Qu. About, about:
Search Windsor Castle (Elues) within, and out.
Strew good lucke (Ouphes) on euery sacred roome,
That it may stand till the perpetuall doome,
In state as wholsome, as in state 'tis fit,
Worthy the Owner, and the Owner it.
The seuerall Chaires of Order, looke you scowre
With iuyce of Balme; and euery precious flowre,
Each faire Instalment, Coate, and seu'rall Crest,
With loyall Blazon, euermore be blest.
And Nightly-meadow-Fairies, looke you sing
Like to the Garters-Compasse, in a ring
Th' expressure that it beares: Greene let it be,
More fertile-fresh then all the Field to see:
And, Hony Soit Qui Maly-Pence, write
In Emrold-tuffes, Flowres purple, blew, and white,
Like Saphire-pearle, and rich embroiderie,
Buckled below faire Knight-hoods bending knee;
Fairies vse Flowres for their characterie.
Away, disperse: But till 'tis one a clocke,
Our Dance of Custome, round about the Oke
Of Herne the Hunter, let vs not forget
   Euan. Pray you lock hand in hand: your selues in order set:
And twenty glow-wormes shall our Lanthornes bee
To guide our Measure round about the Tree.
But stay, I smell a man of middle earth
   Fal. Heauens defend me from that Welsh Fairy,
Least he transforme me to a peece of Cheese
   Pist. Vilde worme, thou wast ore-look'd euen in thy
   Qu. With Triall-fire touch me his finger end:
If he be chaste, the flame will backe descend
And turne him to no paine: but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted hart
   Pist. A triall, come
   Eua. Come: will this wood take fire?
  Fal. Oh, oh, oh
   Qui. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire.
About him (Fairies) sing a scornfull rime,
And as you trip, still pinch him to your time.
Fie on sinnefull phantasie: Fie on Lust, and Luxurie:
Lust is but a bloudy fire, kindled with vnchaste desire,
Fed in heart whose flames aspire,
As thoughts do blow them higher and higher.
Pinch him (Fairies) mutually: Pinch him for his villanie.
Pinch him, and burne him, and turne him about,
Till Candles, & Star-light, & Moone-shine be out
   Page. Nay do not flye, I thinke we haue watcht you
now: Will none but Herne the Hunter serue your
  M.Page. I pray you come, hold vp the iest no higher.
Now (good Sir Iohn) how like you Windsor wiues?
See you these husband? Do not these faire yoakes
Become the Forrest better then the Towne?
  Ford. Now Sir, whose a Cuckold now?
Mr Broome, Falstaffes a Knaue, a Cuckoldly knaue,
Heere are his hornes Master Broome:
And Master Broome, he hath enioyed nothing of Fords,
but his Buck-basket, his cudgell, and twenty pounds of
money, which must be paid to Mr Broome, his horses are
arrested for it, Mr Broome
   M.Ford. Sir Iohn, we haue had ill lucke: wee could
neuer meete: I will neuer take you for my Loue againe,
but I will alwayes count you my Deere
   Fal. I do begin to perceiue that I am made an Asse
   Ford. I, and an Oxe too: both the proofes are extant
   Fal. And these are not Fairies:
I was three or foure times in the thought they were not
Fairies, and yet the guiltinesse of my minde, the sodaine
surprize of my powers, droue the grossenesse of the foppery
into a receiu'd beleefe, in despight of the teeth of
all rime and reason, that they were Fairies. See now
how wit may be made a Iacke-a-Lent, when 'tis vpon ill
   Euans. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, serue Got, and leaue your
desires, and Fairies will not pinse you
   Ford. Well said Fairy Hugh
   Euans. And leaue you your iealouzies too, I pray
   Ford. I will neuer mistrust my wife againe, till thou
art able to woo her in good English
   Fal. Haue I laid my braine in the Sun, and dri'de it,
that it wants matter to preuent so grosse ore-reaching as
this? Am I ridden with a Welch Goate too? Shal I haue
a Coxcombe of Frize? Tis time I were choak'd with a
peece of toasted Cheese
   Eu. Seese is not good to giue putter; your belly is al
   Fal. Seese, and Putter? Haue I liu'd to stand at the
taunt of one that makes Fritters of English? This is enough
to be the decay of lust and late-walking through
   Mist.Page. Why Sir Iohn, do you thinke though wee
would haue thrust vertue out of our hearts by the head
and shoulders, and haue giuen our selues without scruple
to hell, that euer the deuill could haue made you our
  Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?
  Mist.Page. A puft man?
  Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intollerable entrailes?
  Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Sathan?
  Page. And as poore as Iob?
  Ford. And as wicked as his wife?
  Euan. And giuen to Fornications, and to Tauernes,
and Sacke, and Wine, and Metheglins, and to drinkings
and swearings, and starings? Pribles and prables?
  Fal. Well, I am your Theame: you haue the start of
me, I am deiected: I am not able to answer the Welch
Flannell, Ignorance it selfe is a plummet ore me, vse me
   Ford. Marry Sir, wee'l bring you to Windsor to one
Mr Broome, that you haue cozon'd of money, to whom
you should haue bin a Pander: ouer and aboue that you
haue suffer'd, I thinke, to repay that money will be a biting
   Page. Yet be cheerefull Knight: thou shalt eat a posset
to night at my house, wher I will desire thee to laugh
at my wife, that now laughes at thee: Tell her Mr Slender
hath married her daughter
   Mist.Page. Doctors doubt that;
If Anne Page be my daughter, she is (by this) Doctour
   Slen. Whoa hoe, hoe, Father Page
   Page. Sonne? How now? How now Sonne,
Haue you dispatch'd?
  Slen. Dispatch'd? Ile make the best in Glostershire
know on't: would I were hang'd la, else
   Page. Of what sonne?
  Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistris Anne
Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not bene
i'th Church, I would haue swing'd him, or hee should
haue swing'd me. If I did not thinke it had beene Anne
Page, would I might neuer stirre, and 'tis a Post-masters
   Page. Vpon my life then, you tooke the wrong
   Slen. What neede you tell me that? I think so, when
I tooke a Boy for a Girle: If I had bene married to him,
(for all he was in womans apparrell) I would not haue
   Page. Why this is your owne folly,
Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter,
By her garments?
  Slen. I went to her in greene, and cried Mum, and
she cride budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet
it was not Anne, but a Post-masters boy
   Mist.Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of
your purpose: turn'd my daughter into white, and indeede
she is now with the Doctor at the Deanrie, and
there married
   Cai. Ver is Mistris Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha
married oon Garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy,
it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozened
   M.Page. Why? did you take her in white?
  Cai. I bee gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, Ile raise all
   Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne?
  Page. My heart misgiues me, here comes Mr Fenton.
How now Mr Fenton?
  Anne. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon
  Page. Now Mistris:
How chance you went not with Mr Slender?
  M.Page. Why went you not with Mr Doctor, maid?
  Fen. You do amaze her: heare the truth of it,
You would haue married her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in loue:
The truth is, she and I (long since contracted)
Are now so sure that nothing can dissolue vs:
Th' offence is holy, that she hath committed,
And this deceit looses the name of craft,
Of disobedience, or vnduteous title,
Since therein she doth euitate and shun
A thousand irreligious cursed houres
Which forced marriage would haue brought vpon her
   Ford. Stand not amaz'd, here is no remedie:
In Loue, the heauens themselues do guide the state,
Money buyes Lands, and wiues are sold by fate
   Fal. I am glad, though you haue tane a special stand
to strike at me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd
   Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heauen giue thee
ioy, what cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd
   Fal. When night-dogges run, all sorts of Deere are
   Mist.Page. Well, I will muse no further: Mr Fenton,
Heauen giue you many, many merry dayes:
Good husband, let vs euery one go home,
And laugh this sport ore by a Countrie fire,
Sir Iohn and all
   Ford. Let it be so (Sir Iohn:)
To Master Broome, you yet shall hold your word,
For he, to night, shall lye with Mistris Ford:
FINIS. THE Merry Wiues of Windsor.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
Much adoe about Nothing
Actus primus, Scena prima.
Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his
and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger.
  Leonato. I learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon,
comes this night to Messina
   Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not
three Leagues off when I left him
   Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this
  Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name
   Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer
brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Peter
hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, called
   Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred
by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the
promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the
feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expectation,
then you must expect of me to tell you how
   Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very
much glad of it
   Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there
appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could
not shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bitternesse
   Leo. Did he breake out into teares?
  Mess. In great measure
   Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces
truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much better
is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping?
  Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from
the warres, or no?
  Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was
none such in the armie of any sort
   Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece?
  Hero. My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua
  Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was
   Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd
Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the
Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at
the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and
eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for
indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing
   Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too
much, but hee'l be meete with you, I doubt it not
   Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars
   Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to
ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an
excellent stomacke
   Mess. And a good souldier too Lady
   Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he
  Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with
all honourable vertues
   Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man:
but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall
   Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is
a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her:
they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between
   Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict,
foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is
the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue
wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it
for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it
is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable
creature. Who is his companion now? He hath
euery month a new sworne brother
   Mess. Is't possible?
  Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as
the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with y next block
   Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your
   Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But
I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young
squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the
  Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble
   Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease:
he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker
runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee
haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand
pound ere he be cur'd
   Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady
   Bea. Do good friend
   Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece
   Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary
   Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.
Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the
  Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet
your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost,
and you encounter it
   Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes
of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should
remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides,
and happinesse takes his leaue
   Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I
thinke this is your daughter
   Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so
   Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her?
  Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a
   Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by
this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers
her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable
   Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not
haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him
   Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior
Benedicke, no body markes you
   Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet
  Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee
hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke?
Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in
her presence
   Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine
I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and
I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard
heart, for truely I loue none
   Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else
haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke
God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I
had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man
sweare he loues me
   Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde,
so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate
scratcht face
   Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere
such a face as yours were
   Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher
   Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of
   Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue,
and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods
name, I haue done
   Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know
   Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio,
and signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath
inuited you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least
a moneth, and he heartily praies some occasion may detaine
vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no hypocrite, but
praies from his heart
   Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne,
let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled
to the Prince your brother: I owe you all
   Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I
   Leon. Please it your grace leade on?
  Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together.
Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.
  Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of signior
  Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her
   Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie?
  Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should
doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue
me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant
to their sexe?
  Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement
   Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie
praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a
great praise, onely this commendation I can affoord her,
that were shee other then she is, she were vnhandsome,
and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like her
   Clau. Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me
truely how thou lik'st her
   Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after
  Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell?
  Ben. Yea, and a case to put it into, but speake you this
with a sad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to
tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare
Carpenter: Come, in what key shall a man take you to
goe in the song?
  Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer
   Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no
such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest
with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first
of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue
no intent to turne husband, haue you?
  Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had
sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife
   Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one
man but he will weare his cap with suspition? shall I neuer
see a batcheller of three score againe? goe to yfaith,
and thou wilt needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare
the print of it, and sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro
is returned to seeke you.
Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.
  Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you followed
not to Leonatoes?
  Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to
   Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance
   Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a
dumbe man, I would haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance,
marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in
loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke
how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short
   Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred
   Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas
not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so
   Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it
should be otherwise
   Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie
well worthie
   Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord
   Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought
   Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine
   Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I
   Clau. That I loue her, I feele
   Pedr. That she is worthie, I know
   Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be loued,
nor know how shee should be worthie, is the
opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at
   Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight
   Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the
force of his will
  Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that
she brought mee vp, I likewise giue her most humble
thankes: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my
forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all
women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the
wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to
trust none: and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the
finer) I will liue a Batchellor
   Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue
   Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger,
my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more
blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking,
picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and
hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe
of blinde Cupid
   Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith,
thou wilt proue a notable argument
   Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot
at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoulder,
and cal'd Adam
   Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage
Bull doth beare the yoake
   Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible
Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set
them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and
in such great Letters as they write, heere is good horse
to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may
see Benedicke the married man
   Clau. If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee
   Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly
   Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then
   Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in
the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes,
commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile
him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation
   Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an
Embassage, and so I commit you
   Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I
   Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick
   Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your
discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the
guardes are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flout
old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I
  Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee
   Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne
Any hard Lesson that may do thee good
   Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord?
  Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire.
Dost thou affect her Claudio?
  Clau. O my Lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd vpon her with a souldiers eie,
That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand,
Than to driue liking to the name of loue:
But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts
Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes,
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is,
Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres
   Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently,
And tire the hearer with a booke of words:
If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it,
And I will breake with her: wast not to this end,
That thou beganst to twist so fine a story?
  Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue,
That know loues griefe by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme,
I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise
   Ped. What need y bridge much broder then the flood?
The fairest graunt is the necessitie:
Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest,
And I will fit thee with the remedie,
I know we shall haue reuelling to night,
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,
And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong incounter of my amorous tale:
Then after, to her father will I breake,
And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine,
In practise let vs put it presently.
Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato.
  Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son:
hath he prouided this musicke?
  Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell
you newes that you yet dreamt not of
   Lo. Are they good?
  Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good
couer: they shew well outward, the Prince and Count
Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard,
were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discouered
to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter,
and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance,
and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the
present time by the top, and instantly breake with you
   Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
  Old. A good sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and
question him your selfe
   Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare
it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall,
that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture
this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coosins,
you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie
friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill,
good cosin haue a care this busie time.
Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion.
  Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you
thus out of measure sad?
  Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds,
therefore the sadnesse is without limit
   Con. You should heare reason
   Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth
  Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance
   Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art,
borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine,
to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I
am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no
mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no
mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no
mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man
in his humor
   Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this,
till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of
late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane
you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you
should take root, but by the faire weather that you make
your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your
owne haruest
   Iohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose
in his grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of
all, then to fashion a carriage to rob loue from any: in this
(though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man)
it must not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I
am trusted with a mussell, and enfranchisde with a clog,
therefore I haue decreed, not to sing in my cage: if I had
my mouth, I would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do
my liking: in the meane time, let me be that I am, and
seeke not to alter me
   Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent?
  Iohn. I will make all vse of it, for I vse it onely.
Who comes here? what newes Borachio?
Enter Borachio.
  Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the Prince
your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can
giue you intelligence of an intended marriage
   Iohn. Will it serue for any Modell to build mischiefe
on? What is hee for a foole that betrothes himselfe to
vnquietnesse?
  Bor. Mary it is your brothers right hand
   Iohn. Who, the most exquisite Claudio?
  Bor. Euen he
   Iohn. A proper squier, and who, and who, which way
  Bor. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leonato
   Iohn. A very forward March-chicke, how came you
  Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking
a musty roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio,
hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Arras,
and there heard it agreed vpon, that the Prince should
wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue
her to Count Claudio
   Iohn. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food
to my displeasure, that young start-vp hath all the glorie
of my ouerthrow: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse
my selfe euery way, you are both sure, and will assist
  Conr. To the death my Lord
   Iohn. Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the
greater that I am subdued, would the Cooke were of my
minde: shall we goe proue whats to be done?
  Bor. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and
Beatrice his
neece, and a kinsman.
  Leonato. Was not Count Iohn here at supper?
  Brother. I saw him not
   Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer
can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after
   Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition
   Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made
iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one
is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too
like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling
   Leon. Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count
Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior
Benedicks face
   Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and
money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any
woman in the world, if he could get her good will
   Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a
husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue
   Brother. Infaith shee's too curst
   Beat. Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods
sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow
short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none
   Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no
   Beat. Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which
blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and
euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a
beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen
   Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no
   Beatrice. What should I doe with him? dresse him in
my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he
that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath
no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a
youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am
not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest
of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell
   Leon. Well then, goe you into hell
   Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill
meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head,
and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen,
heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes,
and away to S[aint]. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee
where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as
the day is long
   Brother. Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your
   Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie,
and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let
him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie,
and say, father, as it please me
   Leonato. Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted
with a husband
   Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other mettall
then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred
with a peece of valiant dust: to make account of
her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none:
Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne
to match in my kinred
   Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the
Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your answere
   Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you
be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important,
tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance
out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, &
repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinquepace:
the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge
(and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest,
(as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes
repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace
faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue
   Leonato. Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly
   Beatrice. I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church
   Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good
Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or
Maskers with a drum.
  Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend?
  Hero. So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say
nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I
   Pedro. With me in your company
   Hero. I may say so when I please
   Pedro. And when please you to say so?
  Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the
Lute should be like the case
   Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house
   Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht
   Pedro. Speake low if you speake Loue
   Bene. Well, I would you did like me
   Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue
manie ill qualities
   Bene. Which is one?
  Mar. I say my prayers alowd
   Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen
   Mar. God match me with a good dauncer
   Balt. Amen
   Mar. And God keepe him out of my sight when the
daunce is done: answer Clarke
   Balt. No more words, the Clarke is answered
   Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio
   Anth. At a word, I am not
   Vrsula. I know you by the wagling of your head
   Anth. To tell you true, I counterfet him
   Vrsu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse
you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down,
you are he, you are he
   Anth. At a word I am not
   Vrsula. Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know
you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe
to mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's
   Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?
  Bene. No, you shall pardon me
   Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
  Bened. Not now
   Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good
wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior
Benedicke that said so
   Bene. What's he?
  Beat. I am sure you know him well enough
   Bene. Not I, beleeue me
   Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh?
  Bene. I pray you what is he?
  Beat. Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole,
onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none
but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is
not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth
men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and
beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had
   Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what
   Beat. Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two
on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd
at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Partridge
wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that
night. We must follow the Leaders
   Ben. In euery good thing
   Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them
at the next turning.
Musicke for the dance.
  Iohn. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath
withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the
Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines
   Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing
   Iohn. Are not you signior Benedicke?
  Clau. You know me well, I am hee
   Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his
loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him
from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the
part of an honest man in it
   Claudio. How know you he loues her?
  Iohn. I heard him sweare his affection
   Bor. So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her
   Iohn. Come, let vs to the banquet.
Ex. manet Clau.
  Clau. Thus answere I in name of Benedicke,
But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio:
'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe:
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Saue in the Office and affaires of loue:
Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues.
Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe,
And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch,
Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood:
This is an accident of hourely proofe,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero.
Enter Benedicke.
  Ben. Count Claudio
   Clau. Yea, the same
   Ben. Come, will you goe with me?
  Clau. Whither?
  Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse,
Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland
off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or
vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must
weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero
   Clau . I wish him ioy of her
   Ben. Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so
they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold
haue serued you thus?
  Clau. I pray you leaue me
   Ben. Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the
boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post
   Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you.
  Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into
sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, &
not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe
vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am
apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the
base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's
the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile
be reuenged as I may.
Enter the Prince.
  Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you
  Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady
Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a
Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your
grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered
him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a
garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as being
worthy to be whipt
   Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?
  Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who
being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his
companion, and he steales it
   Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the
transgression is in the stealer
   Ben. Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene
made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue
worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on
you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest
   Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them
to the owner
   Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith
you say honestly
   Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the
Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much
wrong'd by you
   Bene. O she misusde me past the indurance of a block:
an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered
her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold
with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my
selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller
then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible
conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a
marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes
poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were
as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere
her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not
marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam
had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made
  Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to
make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde
her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God
some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she
is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary,
and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe
thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation
followes her.
Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.
  Pedro. Looke heere she comes
   Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to
the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now
to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I
will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch
of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch
you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage
to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words
conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment
  Pedro. None, but to desire your good company
   Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure
this Lady tongue.
  Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of
Signior Benedicke
   Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I
gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry
once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore
your Grace may well say I haue lost it
   Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put
   Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest
I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought
Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke
   Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad?
  Claud. Not sad my Lord
   Pedro. How then? sicke?
  Claud. Neither, my Lord
   Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry,
nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something
of a iealous complexion
   Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true.
though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false:
heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero
is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will
obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue
   Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace
say, Amen to it
   Beatr. Speake Count, tis your Qu
   Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were
but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you
are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and
doat vpon the exchange
   Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth
with a kisse, and let not him speake neither
   Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart
   Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes
on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare
that he is in my heart
   Clau. And so she doth coosin
   Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one
to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner
and cry, heigh ho for a husband
   Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one
   Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting:
hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father
got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them
   Prince. Will you haue me? Lady
   Beat. No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for
working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie
day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne
to speake all mirth, and no matter
   Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry,
best becomes you, for out of question, you were born
in a merry howre
   Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then
there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins
God giue you ioy
   Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told
  Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.
Exit Beatrice.
  Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady
   Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her
my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not
euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath
often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with
   Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband
   Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers
out of suite
   Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick
   Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
married, they would talke themselues madde
   Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to
  Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches,
till Loue haue all his rites
   Leonato. Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is
hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue
all things answer minde
   Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing,
but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe
dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules
labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the
Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one with
th' other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not
but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance
as I shall giue you direction
   Leonato. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee
ten nights watchings
   Claud. And I my Lord
   Prin. And you to gentle Hero?
  Hero. I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe
my cosin to a good husband
   Prin. And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband
that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble
straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will
teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall
in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will
so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke
wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with
Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer,
his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely louegods,
goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift.
Enter Iohn and Borachio.
  Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter
   Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crosse it
   Iohn. Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be
medicinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and
whatsoeuer comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly
with mine, how canst thou crosse this marriage?
  Bor. Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no
dishonesty shall appeare in me
   Iohn. Shew me breefely how
   Bor. I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how
much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman
   Iohn. I remember
   Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night,
appoint her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window
   Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?
  Bor. The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe
you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that
hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned
Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a
contaminated stale, such a one as Hero
   Iohn. What proofe shall I make of that?
  Bor. Proofe enough, to misuse the Prince, to vexe
Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any
other issue?
  Iohn. Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any
   Bor. Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on
Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you
know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both
to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers
honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation,
who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance
of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely
beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which
shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see mee at her
chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare
Margaret terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this
the very night before the intended wedding, for in the
meane time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall
be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths of
Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance,
and all the preparation ouerthrowne
   Iohn. Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will
put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and
thy fee is a thousand ducates
   Bor. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning
shall not shame me
   Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage.
Enter Benedicke alone.
   Boy. Signior
   Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it
hither to me in the orchard
   Boy. I am heere already sir.
  Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and
heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man seeing
how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his
behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at such
shallow follies in others, become the argument of his
owne scorne, by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio.
I haue known when there was no musicke with him but
the drum and the fife, and now had hee rather heare the
taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue
walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armor, and now will
he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet:
he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like
an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography,
his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so
many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with
these eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee
sworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but Ile
take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyster of me, he
shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet
I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous,
yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman,
one woman shall not come in my grace: rich shee shall
be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile neuer
cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde,
or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of
good discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal
be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and
Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor.
Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson.
  Prin. Come, shall we heare this musicke?
  Claud. Yea my good Lord: how still the euening is.
As husht on purpose to grace harmonie
   Prin. See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe?
  Clau. O very well my Lord: the musicke ended,
Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth
   Prince. Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again
   Balth. O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce,
To slander musicke any more then once
   Prin. It is the witnesse still of excellency,
To slander Musicke any more then once
   Prince. It is the witnesse still of excellencie,
To put a strange face on his owne perfection,
I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more
   Balth. Because you talke of wooing, I will sing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit,
To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he sweare he loues
   Prince. Nay pray thee come,
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Doe it in notes
   Balth. Note this before my notes,
Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting
   Prince. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks,
Note notes forsooth, and nothing
   Bene. Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it
not strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of
mens bodies? well, a horne for my money when all's
Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceiuers euer,
One foote in Sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant neuer,
Then sigh not so, but let them goe,
And be you blithe and bonnie,
Conuerting all your sounds of woe,
Into hey nony nony.
Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heauy,
The fraud of men were euer so,
Since summer first was leauy,
Then sigh not so, &c
   Prince. By my troth a good song
   Balth. And an ill singer, my Lord
   Prince. Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a
   Ben. And he had been a dog that should haue howld
thus, they would haue hang'd him, and I pray God his
bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had as liefe haue heard
the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after
   Prince. Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray
thee get vs some excellent musick: for to morrow night
we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window
   Balth. The best I can, my Lord.
Exit Balthasar.
  Prince. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what
was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice
was in loue with signior Benedicke?
  Cla. O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer
thinke that Lady would haue loued any man
   Leon. No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she
should so dote on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in
all outward behauiours seemed euer to abhorre
   Bene. Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner?
  Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to
thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection,
it is past the infinite of thought
   Prince. May be she doth but counterfeit
   Claud. Faith like enough
   Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit
of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers
   Prince. Why what effects of passion shewes she?
  Claud. Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite
   Leon. What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you
heard my daughter tell you how
   Clau. She did indeed
   Prince. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would
haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all
assaults of affection
   Leo. I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially
against Benedicke
   Bene. I should thinke this a gull, but that the whitebearded
fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide
himselfe in such reuerence
   Claud. He hath tane th' infection, hold it vp
   Prince. Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke:
  Leonato. No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her
   Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall
I, saies she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne,
write to him that I loue him?
  Leo. This saies shee now when shee is beginning to
write to him, for shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and
there will she sit in her smocke, till she haue writ a sheet
of paper: my daughter tells vs all
   Clau. Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember
a pretty iest your daughter told vs of
   Leon. O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer,
she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete
   Clau. That
   Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence,
raild at her self, that she should be so immodest to write,
to one that shee knew would flout her: I measure him,
saies she, by my owne spirit, for I should flout him if hee
writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should
   Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes,
sobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O
sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience
   Leon. She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the
extasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is
somtime afeard she will doe a desperate out-rage to her
selfe, it is very true
   Prince. It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some
other, if she will not discouer it
   Clau. To what end? he would but make a sport of it,
and torment the poore Lady worse
   Prin. And he should, it were an almes to hang him,
shee's an excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,)
she is vertuous
   Claudio. And she is exceeding wise
   Prince. In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke
   Leon. O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in
so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud
hath the victory, I am sorry for her, as I haue iust cause,
being her Vncle, and her Guardian
   Prince. I would shee had bestowed this dotage on
mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her
halfe my selfe: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare
what he will say
   Leon. Were it good thinke you?
  Clau. Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she
will die, if hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee
make her loue knowne, and she will die if hee wooe her,
rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed
   Prince. She doth well, if she should make tender of her
loue, 'tis very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you
know all) hath a contemptible spirit
   Clau. He is a very proper man
   Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happines
   Clau. 'Fore God, and in my minde very wise
   Prin. He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like
   Leon. And I take him to be valiant
   Prin. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of
quarrels you may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes
them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a
Christian-like feare
   Leon. If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe
peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a
quarrell with feare and trembling
   Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God,
howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee
will make: well, I am sorry for your niece, shall we goe
see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue
   Claud. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out
with good counsell
   Leon. Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart
   Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter,
let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I
could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see
how much he is vnworthy to haue so good a Lady
   Leon. My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready
   Clau. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer
trust my expectation
   Prin. Let there be the same Net spread for her, and
that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry:
the sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers
dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I
would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs
send her to call him into dinner.
  Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly
borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme
to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue the full
bent: loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I
am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe proudly, if I
perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she
will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer
thinke to marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are
they that heare their detractions, and can put them to
mending: they say the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can
beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue
it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is
no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her
folly; for I wil be horribly in loue with her, I may chance
haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken
on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage:
but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in
his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips
and sentences, and these paper bullets of the braine awe
a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world
must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I
did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes
Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some
markes of loue in her.
Enter Beatrice.
  Beat. Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to
   Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines
   Beat. I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then
you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I
would not haue come
   Bene. You take pleasure then in the message
   Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues
point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke
signior, fare you well.
  Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come
into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke
no more paines for those thankes then you took paines
to thanke me, that's as much as to say, any paines that I
take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty
of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I
will goe get her picture.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula.
  Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
There shalt thou finde my Cosin Beatrice,
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio,
Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula,
Walke in the Orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs,
And bid her steale into the pleached bower,
Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne,
Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites,
Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride,
Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose, this is thy office,
Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone
   Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently
   Hero. Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley vp and downe,
Our talke must onely be of Benedicke,
When I doe name him, let it be thy part,
To praise him more then euer man did merit,
My talke to thee must be how Benedicke
Is sicke in loue with Beatrice; of this matter,
Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin,
Enter Beatrice.
For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Close by the ground, to heare our conference
   Vrs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame,
And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite:
So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now,
Is couched in the wood-bine couerture,
Feare you not my part of the Dialogue
   Her. Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing,
Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it:
No truely Vrsula, she is too disdainfull,
I know her spirits are as coy and wilde,
As Haggerds of the rocke
   Vrsula. But are you sure,
That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?
  Her. So saies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord
   Vrs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?
  Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
But I perswaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke,
To wish him wrastle with affection,
And neuer to let Beatrice know of it
   Vrsula. Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman
Deserue as full as fortunate a bed,
As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon?
  Hero. O God of loue! I know he doth deserue,
As much as may be yeelded to a man:
But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart,
Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice:
Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes,
Mis-prizing what they looke on, and her wit
Values it selfe so highly, that to her
All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue,
Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection,
Shee is so selfe indeared
   Vrsula. Sure I thinke so,
And therefore certainely it were not good
She knew his loue, lest she make sport at it
   Hero. Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd.
But she would spell him backward: if faire fac'd,
She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister:
If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke,
Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed:
If low, an agot very vildlie cut:
If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes:
If silent, why a blocke moued with none.
So turnes she euery man the wrong side out,
And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that
Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth
   Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable
   Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,
But who dare tell her so? if I should speake,
She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit,
Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire,
Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly:
It were a better death, to die with mockes,
Which is as bad as die with tickling
   Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say
   Hero. No, rather I will goe to Benedicke,
And counsaile him to fight against his passion,
And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders,
To staine my cosin with, one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoison liking
   Vrsu. O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong,
She cannot be so much without true iudgement,
Hauing so swift and excellent a wit
As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse
So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke
   Hero. He is the onely man of Italy,
Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio
   Vrsu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madame,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke,
For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
Goes formost in report through Italy
   Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name
   Vrsu. His excellence did earne it ere he had it:
When are you married Madame?
  Hero. Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in,
Ile shew thee some attires, and haue thy counsell,
Which is the best to furnish me to morrow
   Vrsu. Shee's tane I warrant you,
We haue caught her Madame?
  Hero. If it proue so, then louing goes by haps,
Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps.
  Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much?
Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew,
No glory liues behinde the backe of such.
And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee,
Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand:
If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee
To binde our loues vp in a holy band.
For others say thou dost deserue, and I
Beleeue it better then reportingly.
Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.
  Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate,
and then go I toward Arragon
   Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe
   Prin. Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new
glosse of your marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat
and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with
Benedicke for his companie, for from the crowne of his
head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice
or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man
dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a bell,
and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkes,
his tongue speakes
   Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin
   Leo. So say I, methinkes you are sadder
   Claud. I hope he be in loue
   Prin. Hang him truant, there's no true drop of bloud
in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants
   Bene. I haue the tooth-ach
   Prin. Draw it
   Bene. Hang it
   Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards
   Prin. What? sigh for the tooth-ach
   Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme
   Bene. Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee
   Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue
   Prin. There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse
it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to bee a
Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: vnlesse hee
haue a fancy to this foolery, as it appeares hee hath, hee
is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it to appeare
   Clau. If he be not in loue with some woman, there
is no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings,
What should that bode?
  Prin. Hath any man seene him at the Barbers?
  Clau. No, but the Barbers man hath beene seen with
him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath alreadie
stuft tennis balls
   Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the
losse of a beard
   Prin. Nay a rubs himselfe with Ciuit, can you smell
him out by that?
  Clau. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in
   Prin. The greatest note of it is his melancholy
   Clau. And when was he wont to wash his face?
  Prin. Yea, or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare
what they say of him
   Clau. Nay, but his iesting spirit, which is now crept
into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops
   Prin. Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude,
he is in loue
   Clau. Nay, but I know who loues him
   Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that
knowes him not
   Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all,
dies for him
   Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards
   Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior,
walke aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine
wise words to speake to you, which these hobby-horses
must not heare
   Prin. For my life to breake with him about Beatrice
   Clau. 'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this
played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares
will not bite one another when they meete.
Enter Iohn the Bastard.
  Bast. My Lord and brother, God saue you
   Prin. Good den brother
   Bast. If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you
   Prince. In priuate?
  Bast. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare,
for what I would speake of, concernes him
   Prin. What's the matter?
  Basta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow?
  Prin. You know he does
   Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know
   Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer
   Bast. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare
hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest,
for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in
dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing
marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill bestowed
   Prin. Why, what's the matter?
  Bastard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances
shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the
Lady is disloyall
   Clau. Who Hero?
  Bast. Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery
   Clau. Disloyall?
  Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse,
I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse
title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant:
goe but with mee to night, you shal see her chamber
window entred, euen the night before her wedding
day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it
would better fit your honour to change your minde
   Claud. May this be so?
  Princ. I will not thinke it
   Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not
that you know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you
enough, and when you haue seene more, & heard more,
proceed accordingly
   Clau. If I see any thing to night, why I should not
marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I shold
wedde, there will I shame her
   Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will
ioyne with thee to disgrace her
   Bast. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my
witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the issue
shew it selfe
   Prin. O day vntowardly turned!
  Claud. O mischiefe strangelie thwarting!
  Bastard. O plague right well preuented! so will you
say, when you haue seene the sequele.
Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch.
  Dog. Are you good men and true?
  Verg. Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer
saluation body and soule
   Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for
them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being
chosen for the Princes watch
   Verges. Well, giue them their charge, neighbour
   Dog. First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man
to be Constable
   Watch.1. Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale, for
they can write and reade
   Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath
blest you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man,
is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by
   Watch 2. Both which Master Constable
  Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your answere:
well, for your fauour sir, why giue God thankes, & make
no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that
appeare when there is no need of such vanity, you are
thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man for the
Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the lanthorne:
this is your charge: You shall comprehend all
vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Princes
   Watch 2. How if a will not stand?
  Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go,
and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and
thanke God you are ridde of a knaue
   Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is
none of the Princes subiects
   Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but
the Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the
streetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is most
tollerable, and not to be indured
   Watch. We will rather sleepe than talke, wee know
what belongs to a Watch
   Dog. Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet
watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend:
only haue a care that your bills be not stolne: well, you
are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are
drunke get them to bed
   Watch. How if they will not?
  Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are sober, if
they make you not then the better answere, you may say,
they are not the men you tooke them for
   Watch. Well sir,
  Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by
vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such
kinde of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them,
why the more is for your honesty
   Watch. If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall wee not
lay hands on him
   Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they
that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way
for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him shew himselfe
what he is, and steale out of your company
   Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful ma[n] partner
   Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much
more a man who hath anie honestie in him
   Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must
call to the nurse, and bid her still it
   Watch. How if the nurse be asleepe and will not
  Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe
wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare
her Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when
   Verges. 'Tis verie true
   Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable
are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the
Prince in the night, you may staie him
   Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot
   Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that
knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not without
the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to
offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against
   Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so
   Dog. Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be
anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your
fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night,
come neighbour
   Watch. Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go
sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and then all to
   Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you
watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being
there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night,
adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.
Enter Borachio and Conrade.
  Bor. What, Conrade?
  Watch. Peace, stir not
   Bor. Conrade I say
   Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow
   Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would
a scabbe follow
   Con. I will owe thee an answere for that, and now
forward with thy tale
   Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it
drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to
   Watch. Some treason masters, yet stand close
   Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a
thousand Ducates
   Con. Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare?
  Bor. Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible anie
villanie should be so rich? for when rich villains haue
neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price
   Con. I wonder at it
   Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest
that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing
   Con. Yes, it is apparell
   Bor. I meane the fashion
   Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion
   Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but
seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is?
  Watch. I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe,
this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man:
I remember his name
   Bor. Did'st thou not heare some bodie?
  Con. No, 'twas the vaine on the house
   Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe
this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hotblouds,
betweene, foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes
fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie
painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old
Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in
the smircht worm-eaten tapestrie, where his cod-peece
seemes as massie as his club
   Con. All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out
more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe
giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out of
thy tale into telling me of the fashion?
  Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night
wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the
name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamberwindow,
bids me a thousand times good night: I tell
this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince
Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed
by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far off in the Orchard this
amiable incounter
   Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero?
  Bor. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the
diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly by
his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke
night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villanie,
which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had
made, away went Claudio enraged, swore hee would
meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Temple,
and there, before the whole congregation shame her
with what he saw o're night, and send her home againe
without a husband
   Watch.1. We charge you in the Princes name stand
   Watch.2. Call vp the right master Constable, we haue
here recouered the most dangerous peece of lechery, that
euer was knowne in the Common-wealth
   Watch.1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know
him, a weares a locke
   Conr. Masters, masters
   Watch.2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant
  Conr. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey
you to goe with vs
   Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being
taken vp of these mens bils
   Conr. A commoditie in question I warrant you, come
weele obey you.
Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.
  Hero. Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire
   Vrsu. I will Lady
   Her. And bid her come hither
   Vrs. Well
   Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better
   Hero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this
   Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your
cosin will say so
   Hero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile
weare none but this
   Mar. I like the new tire within excellently, if the
haire were a thought browner: and your gown's a most
rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines
gowne that they praise so
   Hero. O that exceedes they say
   Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of
yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with
pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborn
with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint gracefull
and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't
   Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is
exceeding heauy
   Marga. 'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a
   Hero. Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd?
  Marg. Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is
not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord
honourable without marriage? I thinke you would haue
me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad thinking
doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body, is
there any harme in the heauier for a husband? none I
thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife,
otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady Beatrice
else, here she comes.
Enter Beatrice.
  Hero. Good morrow Coze
   Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero
   Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune?
  Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes
   Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a
burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it
   Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your
husband haue stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke
   Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with
   Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you
were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho
   Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband?
  Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H
   Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no
more sayling by the starre
   Beat. What meanes the foole trow?
  Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their harts
   Hero. These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an
excellent perfume
   Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell
   Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of
   Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue
you profest apprehension?
  Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become
  Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in
your cap, by my troth I am sicke
   Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus
and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm
   Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thissell
   Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall
in this benedictus
   Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning,
I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance
that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not
such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to thinke
what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would thinke
my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you
will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke
was such another, and now is he become a man, he swore
hee would neuer marry, and yet now in despight of his
heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you
may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke
with your eies as other women doe
   Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes
   Mar. Not a false gallop.
Enter Vrsula.
  Vrsula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, signior
Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the
towne are come to fetch you to Church
   Hero. Helpe me to dresse mee good coze, good Meg,
good Vrsula.
Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.
  Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour?
  Const.Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence
with you, that decernes you nearely
   Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time
   Const.Dog. Mary this it is sir
   Headb. Yes in truth it is sir
   Leon. What is it my good friends?
  Con.Do. Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the
matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as
God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest
as the skin betweene his browes
   Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing,
that is an old man, and no honester then I
   Con.Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour
   Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious
   Con.Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are
the poore Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part,
if I were as tedious as a King I could finde in my heart to
bestow it all of your worship
   Leon. All thy tediousnesse on me, ah?
  Const.Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more
than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worship
as of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a
poore man, I am glad to heare it
   Head. And so am I
   Leon. I would faine know what you haue to say
   Head. Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your
worships presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant
knaues as any in Messina
   Con.Dog. A good old man sir, hee will be talking as
they say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God helpe vs,
it is a world to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges,
well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horse,
one must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my
troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worshipt,
all men are not alike, alas good neighbour
   Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you
   Con.Do. Gifts that God giues
   Leon. I must leaue you
   Con.Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede
comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would haue
them this morning examined before your worship
   Leon. Take their examination your selfe, and bring it
me, I am now in great haste, as may appeare vnto you
   Const. It shall be suffigance
   Leon. Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well.
  Messenger. My Lord, they stay for you to giue your
daughter to her husband
   Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready
   Dogb. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale,
bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole:
we are now to examine those men
   Verges. And we must doe it wisely
   Dogb. Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you:
heere's that shall driue some to a non-come, only
get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication,
and meet me at the Iaile.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero,
  Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the
plaine forme of marriage, and you shal recount their particular
duties afterwards
   Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady
   Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie
   Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this
   Hero. I doe
   Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment
why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your
soules to vtter it
   Claud. Know you anie, Hero?
  Hero. None my Lord
   Frier. Know you anie, Count?
  Leon. I dare make his answer, None
   Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what
men daily do!
  Bene. How now! interiections? why then, some be
of laughing, as ha, ha, he
   Clau. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue,
Will you with free and vnconstrained soule
Giue me this maid your daughter?
  Leon. As freely sonne as God did giue her me
   Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
  Prin. Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe
   Clau. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes:
There Leonato, take her backe againe,
Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend,
Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honour:
Behold how like a maid she blushes heere!
O what authoritie and shew of truth
Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall!
Comes not that bloud, as modest euidence,
To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare
All you that see her, that she were a maide,
By these exterior shewes? But she is none:
She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed:
Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie
   Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord?
  Clau. Not to be married,
Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton
   Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe,
Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginitie
   Clau. I know what you would say: if I haue knowne
You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato,
I neuer tempted her with word too large,
But as a brother to his sister, shewed
Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue
   Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwise to you?
  Clau. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it,
You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe,
As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne:
But you are more intemperate in your blood,
Than Venus, or those pampred animalls,
That rage in sauage sensualitie
   Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide?
  Leon. Sweete Prince, why speake not you?
  Prin. What should I speake?
I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about,
To linke my deare friend to a common stale
   Leon. Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame?
  Bast. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true
   Bene. This lookes not like a nuptiall
   Hero. True, O God!
  Clau. Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother?
Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne?
  Leon. All this is so, but what of this my Lord?
  Clau. Let me but moue one question to your daughter,
And by that fatherly and kindly power,
That you haue in her, bid her answer truly
   Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe
   Hero. O God defend me how am I beset,
What kinde of catechizing call you this?
  Clau. To make you answer truly to your name
   Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name
With any iust reproach?
  Claud. Marry that can Hero,
Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue.
What man was he, talkt with you yesternight,
Out at your window betwixt twelue and one?
Now if you are a maid, answer to this
   Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord
   Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must heare: vpon mine honor,
My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count
Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night,
Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window,
Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine,
Confest the vile encounters they haue had
A thousand times in secret
   Iohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord,
Not to be spoken of,
There is not chastitie enough in language,
Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady
I am sorry for thy much misgouernment
   Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene
If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed
About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart?
But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell
Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie,
For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue,
And on my eie-lids shall Coniecture hang,
To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme,
And neuer shall it more be gracious
   Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?
  Beat. Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down?
  Bast. Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light,
Smother her spirits vp
   Bene. How doth the Lady?
  Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle,
Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier
   Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand,
Death is the fairest couer for her shame
That may be wisht for
   Beatr. How now cosin Hero?
  Fri. Haue comfort Ladie
   Leon. Dost thou looke vp?
  Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not?
  Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing
Cry shame vpon her? Could she heere denie
The storie that is printed in her blood?
Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes:
For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames,
My selfe would on the reward of reproaches
Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one?
Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame?
O one too much by thee: why had I one?
Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates,
Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie,
I might haue said, no part of it is mine:
This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines,
But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on mine so much,
That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine:
Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne
Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe,
And salt too little, which may season giue
To her foule tainted flesh
   Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired
in wonder, I know not what to say
   Bea. O on my soule my cosin is belied
   Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night?
  Bea. No, truly: not although vntill last night,
I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow
   Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made
Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron.
Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse,
Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die
   Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so
long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting
of the Ladie, I haue markt.
A thousand blushing apparitions,
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames,
In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes,
And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire
To burne the errors that these Princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a foole,
Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations,
Which with experimental seale doth warrant
The tenure of my booke: trust not my age,
My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie,
If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere,
Vnder some biting error
   Leo. Friar, it cannot be:
Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left,
Is, that she wil not adde to her damnation,
A sinne of periury, she not denies it:
Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse,
That which appeares in proper nakednesse?
  Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of?
  Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none:
If I know more of any man aliue
Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant,
Let all my sinnes lacke mercy. O my Father,
Proue you that any man with me conuerst,
At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death
   Fri. There is some strange misprision in the Princes
   Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor,
And if their wisedomes be misled in this:
The practise of it liues in Iohn the bastard,
Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies
   Leo. I know not: if they speake but truth of her,
These hands shall teare her: If they wrong her honour,
The proudest of them shall wel heare of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine,
Nor age so eate vp my inuention,
Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde,
Both strength of limbe, and policie of minde,
Ability in meanes, and choise of friends,
To quit me of them throughly
   Fri. Pause awhile:
And let my counsell sway you in this case,
Your daughter heere the Princesse (left for dead)
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed:
Maintaine a mourning ostentation,
And on your Families old monument,
Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites,
That appertaine vnto a buriall
   Leon. What shall become of this? What wil this do?
  Fri. Marry this wel carried, shall on her behalfe,
Change slander to remorse, that is some good,
But not for that dreame I on this strange course,
But on this trauaile looke for greater birth:
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Vpon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd
Of euery hearer: for it so fals out,
That what we haue, we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and lost,
Why then we racke the value, then we finde
The vertue that possession would not shew vs
Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio:
When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words,
Th' Idea of her life shal sweetly creepe
Into his study of imagination.
And euery louely Organ of her life,
Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite:
More mouing delicate, and ful of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soule
Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne,
If euer Loue had interest in his Liuer,
And wish he had not so accused her:
No, though he thought his accusation true:
Let this be so, and doubt not but successe
Wil fashion the euent in better shape,
Then I can lay it downe in likelihood.
But if all ayme but this be leuelld false,
The supposition of the Ladies death,
Will quench the wonder of her infamie.
And if it sort not well, you may conceale her
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusiue and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries
   Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you,
And though you know my inwardnesse and loue
Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio.
Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this,
As secretly and iustlie, as your soule
Should with your bodie
   Leon. Being that I flow in greefe,
The smallest twine may lead me
   Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away,
For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure,
Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day
Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure.
  Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while?
  Beat. Yea, and I will weepe a while longer
   Bene. I will not desire that
   Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely
   Bene. Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd
   Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee
that would right her!
  Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?
  Beat. A verie euen way, but no such friend
   Bene. May a man doe it?
  Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours
   Bene. I doe loue nothing in the world so well as you,
is not that strange?
  Beat. As strange as the thing I know not, it were as
possible for me to say, I loued nothing so well as you, but
beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor
I deny nothing, I am sorry for my cousin
   Bene. By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me
   Beat. Doe not sweare by it and eat it
   Bene. I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will
make him eat it that sayes I loue not you
   Beat. Will you not eat your word?
  Bene. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest
   Beat. Why then God forgiue me
   Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice?
  Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about
to protest I loued you
   Bene. And doe it with all thy heart
   Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none
is left to protest
   Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee
   Beat. Kill Claudio
   Bene. Ha, not for the wide world
   Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell
   Bene. Tarrie sweet Beatrice
   Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue
in you, nay I pray you let me goe
   Bene. Beatrice
   Beat. Infaith I will goe
   Bene. Wee'll be friends first
   Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight
with mine enemy
   Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie?
  Beat. Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that
hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O
that I were a man! what, beare her in hand vntill they
come to take hands, and then with publike accusation
vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I
were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place
   Bene. Heare me Beatrice
   Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper
   Bene. Nay but Beatrice
   Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered,
she is vndone
   Bene. Beat?
  Beat. Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testimonie,
a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie,
O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any
friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted
into cursies, valour into complement, and men are
onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now
as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it:
I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman
with grieuing
   Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee
   Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing
   Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio
hath wrong'd Hero?
  Beat. Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule
   Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I
will kisse your hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Claudio
shall render me a deere account: as you heare of me,
so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin, I must say she
is dead, and so farewell.
Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes.
  Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard?
  Cowley. O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton
   Sexton. Which be the malefactors?
  Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner
   Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition
   Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined,
let them come before master Constable
   Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is
your name, friend?
  Bor. Borachio
   Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra
   Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade
   Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters,
doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie
that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe
neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your
  Con. Marry sir, we say we are none
   Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I
will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word
in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false
   Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none
   Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in
a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none?
  Sext. Master Constable, you goe not the way to examine,
you must call forth the watch that are their accusers
   Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch
come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name,
accuse these men
   Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes
brother was a villaine
   Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this
is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine
   Bora. Master Constable
   Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke
I promise thee
   Sexton. What heard you him say else?
  Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates
of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully
   Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed
   Const. Yea by th' masse that it is
   Sexton. What else fellow?
  Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his
words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and
not marry her
   Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting
redemption for this
   Sexton. What else?
  Watch. This is all
   Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny,
Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero
was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd,
and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Constable,
let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato,
I will goe before, and shew him their examination
   Const. Come, let them be opinion'd
   Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe
   Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write
downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them
thou naughty varlet
   Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse
   Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not
suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee
downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse:
though it be not written down, yet forget not y I am an
asse: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be prou'd
vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and
which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder,
and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in
Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich
fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses,
and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome
about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ
downe an asse!
Actus Quintus.
Enter Leonato and his brother.
  Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your selfe,
And 'tis not wisedome thus to second griefe,
Against your selfe
   Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsaile,
Which falls into mine eares as profitlesse,
As water in a siue: giue not me counsaile,
Nor let no comfort delight mine eare,
But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine.
Bring me a father that so lou'd his childe,
Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmed like mine,
And bid him speake of patience,
Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine,
And let it answere euery straine for straine,
As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such,
In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme:
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone,
Patch griefe with prouerbs, make misfortune drunke,
With candle-wasters: bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience:
But there is no such man, for brother, men
Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe,
Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it,
Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before,
Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred,
Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words,
No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience
To those that wring vnder the load of sorrow:
But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie
To be so morall, when he shall endure
The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile,
My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement
   Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ
   Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud,
For there was neuer yet Philosopher,
That could endure the tooth-ake patiently,
How euer they haue writ the stile of gods,
And made a push at chance and sufferance
   Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe,
Make those that doe offend you, suffer too
   Leon. There thou speak'st reason, nay I will doe so,
My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied,
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince,
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Enter Prince and Claudio.
  Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily
   Prin. Good den, good den
   Clau. Good day to both of you
   Leon. Heare you my Lords?
  Prin. We haue some haste Leonato
   Leo. Some haste my Lord! wel, fareyouwel my Lord,
Are you so hasty now? well, all is one
   Prin. Nay, do not quarrel with vs, good old man
   Brot. If he could rite himselfe with quarrelling,
Some of vs would lie low
   Claud. Who wrongs him?
  Leon. Marry y dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou:
Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword,
I feare thee not
   Claud. Marry beshrew my hand,
If it should giue your age such cause of feare,
Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword
   Leonato. Tush, tush, man, neuer fleere and iest at me,
I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole,
As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge,
What I haue done being yong, or what would doe,
Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent childe and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reuerence by,
And with grey haires and bruise of many daies,
Doe challenge thee to triall of a man,
I say thou hast belied mine innocent childe.
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors:
O in a tombe where neuer scandall slept,
Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie
   Claud. My villany?
  Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I say
   Prin. You say not right old man
   Leon. My Lord, my Lord,
Ile proue it on his body if he dare,
Despight his nice fence, and his actiue practise,
His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood
   Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you
   Leo. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child,
If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man
   Bro. He shall kill two of vs, and men indeed,
But that's no matter, let him kill one first:
Win me and weare me, let him answere me,
Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me
Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence,
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will
   Leon. Brother
   Brot. Content your self, God knows I lou'd my neece,
And she is dead, slander'd to death by villaines,
That dare as well answer a man indeede,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.
Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops
   Leon. Brother Anthony
   Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea
And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple,
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boyes,
That lye, and cog, and flout, depraue, and slander,
Goe antiquely, and show outward hidiousnesse,
And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst.
And this is all
   Leon. But brother Anthonie
   Ant. Come, 'tis no matter,
Do not you meddle, let me deale in this
   Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience
My heart is sorry for your daughters death:
But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proofe
   Leon. My Lord, my Lord
   Prin. I will not heare you.
Enter Benedicke.
  Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard.
Exeunt. ambo.
  Bro. And shall, or some of vs will smart for it
   Prin. See, see, here comes the man we went to seeke
   Clau. Now signior, what newes?
  Ben. Good day my Lord
   Prin. Welcome signior, you are almost come to part
almost a fray
   Clau. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt
off with two old men without teeth
   Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think'st thou? had
wee fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for
   Ben. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came
to seeke you both
   Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for
we are high proofe melancholly, and would faine haue it
beaten away, wilt thou vse thy wit?
  Ben. It is in my scabberd, shall I draw it?
  Prin. Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side?
  Clau. Neuer any did so, though verie many haue been
beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the minstrels,
draw to pleasure vs
   Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou
sicke, or angrie?
  Clau. What, courage man: what though care kil'd a
cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care
   Ben. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and
you charge it against me, I pray you chuse another subiect
   Clau. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was
broke crosse
   Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke
he be angrie indeede
   Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle
   Ben. Shall I speake a word in your eare?
  Clau. God blesse me from a challenge
   Ben. You are a villaine, I iest not, I will make it good
how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare:
do me right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue
kill'd a sweete Ladie, and her death shall fall heauie on
you, let me heare from you
   Clau. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good
   Prin. What, a feast, a feast?
  Clau. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues
head and a Capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously,
say my knife's naught, shall I not finde a woodcocke
  Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily
   Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other
day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: true saies she, a fine
little one: no said I, a great wit: right saies shee, a great
grosse one: nay said I, a good wit: iust said she, it hurts
no body: nay said I, the gentleman is wise: certaine said
she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he hath the tongues:
that I beleeue said shee, for hee swore a thing to me on
munday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning:
there's a double tongue, there's two tongues: thus did
shee an howre together trans-shape thy particular vertues,
yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the
proprest man in Italie
   Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said shee
   Prin. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if shee
did not hate him deadlie, shee would loue him dearely,
the old mans daughter told vs all
   Clau. All, all, and moreouer, God saw him when he
was hid in the garden
   Prin. But when shall we set the sauage Bulls hornes
on the sensible Benedicks head?
  Clau. Yea and text vnderneath, heere dwells Benedicke
the married man
   Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will
leaue you now to your gossep-like humor, you breake
iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked
hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I thank
you, I must discontinue your companie, your brother
the Bastard is fled from Messina: you haue among you,
kill'd a sweet and innocent Ladie: for my Lord Lackebeard
there, he and I shall meete, and till then peace be
   Prin. He is in earnest
   Clau. In most profound earnest, and Ile warrant you,
for the loue of Beatrice
   Prin. And hath challeng'd thee
   Clau. Most sincerely
   Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his
doublet and hose, and leaues off his wit.
Enter Constable, Conrade, and Borachio.
  Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape
a Doctor to such a man
   Prin. But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and
be sad, did he not say my brother was fled?
  Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, shee
shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and
you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to
   Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio
   Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord
   Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done?
  Const. Marrie sir, they haue committed false report,
moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they
are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Ladie,
thirdly, they haue verified vniust things, and to conclude
they are lying knaues
   Prin. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie
I aske thee what's their offence, sixt and lastlie why they
are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their
   Clau. Rightlie reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and
by my troth there's one meaning well suted
   Prin. Who haue you offended masters, that you are
thus bound to your answer? this learned Constable is too
cunning to be vnderstood, what's your offence?
  Bor. Sweete Prince, let me go no farther to mine answere:
do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I
haue deceiued euen your verie eies: what your wisedomes
could not discouer, these shallow fooles haue
brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing
to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed
me to slander the Ladie Hero, how you were brought
into the Orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes
garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should
marrie her: my villanie they haue vpon record, which
I had rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to
my shame: the Ladie is dead vpon mine and my masters
false accusation: and briefelie, I desire nothing but the
reward of a villaine
   Prin. Runs not this speech like yron through your
  Clau. I haue drunke poison whiles he vtter'd it
   Prin. But did my Brother set thee on to this?
  Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it
   Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie,
And fled he is vpon this villanie
   Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare
In the rare semblance that I lou'd it first
   Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time
our Sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter:
and masters, do not forget to specifie when time & place
shall serue, that I am an Asse
   Con.2. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and
the Sexton too.
Enter Leonato.
  Leon. Which is the villaine? let me see his eies,
That when I note another man like him,
I may auoide him: which of these is he?
  Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me
   Leon. Art thou the slaue that with thy breath
hast kild mine innocent childe?
  Bor. Yea, euen I alone
   Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe,
Here stand a paire of honourable men,
A third is fled that had a hand in it:
I thanke you Princes for my daughters death,
Record it with your high and worthie deedes,
'Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it
   Clau. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe,
Impose me to what penance your inuention
Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking
   Prin. By my soule nor I,
And yet to satisfie this good old man,
I would bend vnder anie heauie waight,
That heele enioyne me to
   Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue,
That were impossible, but I praie you both,
Possesse the people in Messina here,
How innocent she died, and if your loue
Can labour aught in sad inuention,
Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb,
And sing it to her bones, sing it to night:
To morrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my sonne in law,
Be yet my Nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copie of my childe that's dead,
And she alone is heire to both of vs,
Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin,
And so dies my reuenge
   Clau. O noble sir!
Your ouerkindnesse doth wring teares from me,
I do embrace your offer, and dispose
For henceforth of poore Claudio
   Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming,
To night I take my leaue, this naughtie man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I beleeue was packt in all this wrong,
Hired to it by your brother
   Bor. No, by my soule she was not,
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me,
But alwaies hath bin iust and vertuous,
In anie thing that I do know by her
   Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white
and black, this plaintiffe here, the offendour did call mee
asse, I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment,
and also the watch heard them talke of one Deformed,
they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock hanging
by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which
he hath vs'd so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow
hard-harted and will lend nothing for Gods sake: praie
you examine him vpon that point
   Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines
   Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankefull
and reuerend youth, and I praise God for you
   Leon. There's for thy paines
   Const. God saue the foundation
   Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I
   Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship,
which I beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for
the example of others: God keepe your worship, I
wish your worship well, God restore you to health,
I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a merrie
meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come
   Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.
  Brot. Farewell my Lords, we looke for you to morrow
   Prin. We will not faile
   Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero
   Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with
Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd
Enter Benedicke and Margaret.
  Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue
well at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Beatrice
   Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of
  Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing
shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest
   Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaies
keepe below staires?
  Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth,
   Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which
hit, but hurt not
   Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a
woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the
   Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our
   Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the
pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for
   Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke
hath legges.
Exit Margarite.
  Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that
sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull
I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander
the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of
pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers,
whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen
rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely
turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie
I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no
rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne,
horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime:
verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming
Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes:
Enter Beatrice.
sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd
  Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me
   Bene. O stay but till then
   Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere
I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing
what hath past betweene you and Claudio
   Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse
   Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind
is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therefore
I will depart vnkist
   Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right
sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely,
Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly
heare from him, or I will subscribe him a coward, and
I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst
thou first fall in loue with me?
  Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so
politique a state of euill, that they will not admit any
good part to intermingle with them: but for which of
my good parts did you first suffer loue for me?
  Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeede,
for I loue thee against my will,
  Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart,
if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for
I will neuer loue that which my friend hates
   Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceablie
   Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one
wise man among twentie that will praise himselfe
   Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in
the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in
this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no
longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow
   Beat. And how long is that thinke you?
  Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter
in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for the wise,
if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to
the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as
I am to my selfe so much for praising my selfe, who I my
selfe will beare witnesse is praise worthie, and now tell
me, how doth your cosin?
  Beat. Verie ill
   Bene. And how doe you?
  Beat. Verie ill too.
Enter Vrsula.
  Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue
you too, for here comes one in haste
   Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yonders
old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie Hero
hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and Claudio
mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who
is fled and gone: will you come presentlie?
  Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior?
  Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried
in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to
Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.
  Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato?
  Lord. It is my Lord.
Done to death by slanderous tongues,
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death in guerdon of her wrongs,
Giues her fame which neuer dies:
So the life that dyed with shame,
Liues in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there vpon the tombe,
Praising her when I am dombe
   Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne
Pardon goddesse of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight,
For the which with songs of woe,
Round about her tombe they goe:
Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone.
Heauily, heauily.
Graues yawne and yeelde your dead,
Till death be vttered,
Heauenly, heauenly
   Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this right
   Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out,
The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day
Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey:
Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, fare you well
   Clau. Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way
   Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes,
And then to Leonatoes we will goe
   Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds,
Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.
Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.
  Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
  Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her,
Vpon the errour that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will as it appeares,
In the true course of all the question
   Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well
   Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it
   Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by your selues,
And when I send for you, come hither mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this howre
To visit me, you know your office Brother,
You must be father to your brothers daughter,
And giue her to young Claudio.
Exeunt. Ladies.
  Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance
   Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke
   Frier. To doe what Signior?
  Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them:
Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior,
Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour
   Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true
   Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her
   Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me,
From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will?
  Bened. Your answer sir is Enigmaticall,
But for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conioyn'd,
In the state of honourable marriage,
In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe
   Leon. My heart is with your liking
   Frier. And my helpe.
Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants.
  Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly
   Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:
We heere attend you, are you yet determin'd,
To day to marry with my brothers daughter?
  Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope
   Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready
   Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter?
That you haue such a Februarie face,
So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse
   Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull:
Tush, feare not man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold,
And all Europa shall reioyce at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Ioue,
When he would play the noble beast in loue
   Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low,
And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow,
A got a Calfe in that same noble feat,
Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat.
Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.
  Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.
Which is the Lady I must seize vpon?
  Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her
   Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face
   Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand,
Before this Frier, and sweare to marry her
   Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier,
I am your husband if you like of me
   Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife,
And when you lou'd, you were my other husband
   Clau. Another Hero?
  Hero. Nothing certainer.
One Hero died, but I doe liue,
And surely as I liue, I am a maid
   Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead
   Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd
   Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie,
When after that the holy rites are ended,
Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death:
Meane time let wonder seeme familiar,
And to the chappell let vs presently
   Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice?
  Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will?
  Bene. Doe not you loue me?
  Beat. Why no, no more then reason
   Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Claudio,
haue beene deceiued, they swore you did
   Beat. Doe not you loue mee?
  Bene. Troth no, no more then reason
   Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and Vrsula
Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did
   Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me
   Beat. They swore you were wel-nye dead for me
   Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me?
  Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence
   Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the gentlema[n]
   Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her,
For heres a paper written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine,
Fashioned to Beatrice
   Hero. And heeres another,
Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket,
Containing her affection vnto Benedicke
   Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our
hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take
thee for pittie
   Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I
yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life,
for I was told, you were in a consumption
   Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth
   Prin. How dost thou Benedicke the married man?
  Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers
cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou
think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will
be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome
about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will
thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say against
it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said
against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion:
for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten
thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd,
and loue my cousin
   Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y
I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make
thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] thou wilt be,
if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee
   Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance
ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts,
and our wiues heeles
   Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward
   Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince,
thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no
staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn.
  Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight,
And brought with armed men backe to Messina
   Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise
thee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.
FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Life of Henry the 
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Life of 
Henry the Fift.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can 
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Life of Henry the Fift
Enter Prologue.
O For a Muse of Fire, that would ascend
The brightest Heauen of Inuention:
A Kingdome for a Stage, Princes to Act,
And Monarchs to behold the swelling Scene.
Then should the Warlike Harry, like himselfe,
Assume the Port of Mars, and at his heeles
(Leasht in, like Hounds) should Famine, Sword, and Fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, Gentles all:
The flat vnraysed Spirits, that hath dar'd,
On this vnworthy Scaffold, to bring forth
So great an Obiect. Can this Cock-Pit hold
The vastie fields of France? Or may we cramme
Within this Woodden O, the very Caskes
That did affright the Ayre at Agincourt?
O pardon: since a crooked Figure may
Attest in little place a Million,
And let vs, Cyphers to this great Accompt,
On your imaginarie Forces worke.
Suppose within the Girdle of these Walls
Are now confin'd two mightie Monarchies,
Whose high, vp-reared, and abutting Fronts,
The perillous narrow Ocean parts asunder.
Peece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand parts diuide one Man,
And make imaginarie Puissance.
Thinke when we talke of Horses, that you see them
Printing their prowd Hoofes i'th' receiuing Earth:
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our Kings,
Carry them here and there: Iumping o're Times;
Turning th' accomplishment of many yeeres
Into an Howre-glasse: for the which supplie,
Admit me Chorus to this Historie;
Who Prologue-like, your humble patience pray,
Gently to heare, kindly to iudge our Play.
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.
  Bish.Cant. My Lord, Ile tell you, that selfe Bill is vrg'd,
Which in th' eleue[n]th yere of y last Kings reign
Was like, and had indeed against vs past,
But that the scambling and vnquiet time
Did push it out of farther question
   Bish.Ely. But how my Lord shall we resist it now?
  Bish.Cant. It must be thought on: if it passe against vs,
We loose the better halfe of our Possession:
For all the Temporall Lands, which men deuout
By Testament haue giuen to the Church,
Would they strip from vs; being valu'd thus,
As much as would maintaine, to the Kings honor,
Full fifteene Earles, and fifteene hundred Knights,
Six thousand and two hundred good Esquires:
And to reliefe of Lazars, and weake age
Of indigent faint Soules, past corporall toyle,
A hundred Almes-houses, right well supply'd:
And to the Coffers of the King beside,
A thousand pounds by th' yeere. Thus runs the Bill
   Bish.Ely. This would drinke deepe
   Bish.Cant. 'Twould drinke the Cup and all
   Bish.Ely. But what preuention?
  Bish.Cant. The King is full of grace, and faire regard
   Bish.Ely. And a true louer of the holy Church
   Bish.Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it not.
The breath no sooner left his Fathers body,
But that his wildnesse, mortify'd in him,
Seem'd to dye too: yea, at that very moment,
Consideration like an Angell came,
And whipt th' offending Adam out of him;
Leauing his body as a Paradise,
T' inuelop and containe Celestiall Spirits.
Neuer was such a sodaine Scholler made:
Neuer came Reformation in a Flood,
With such a heady currance scowring faults:
Nor neuer Hidra-headed Wilfulnesse
So soone did loose his Seat; and all at once;
As in this King
   Bish.Ely. We are blessed in the Change
   Bish.Cant. Heare him but reason in Diuinitie;
And all-admiring, with an inward wish
You would desire the King were made a Prelate:
Heare him debate of Common-wealth Affaires;
You would say, it hath been all in all his study:
List his discourse of Warre; and you shall heare
A fearefull Battaile rendred you in Musique.
Turne him to any Cause of Pollicy,
The Gordian Knot of it he will vnloose,
Familiar as his Garter: that when he speakes,
The Ayre, a Charter'd Libertine, is still,
And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares,
To steale his sweet and honyed Sentences:
So that the Art and Practique part of Life,
Must be the Mistresse to this Theorique.
Which is a wonder how his Grace should gleane it,
Since his addiction was to Courses vaine,
His Companies vnletter'd, rude, and shallow,
His Houres fill'd vp with Ryots, Banquets, Sports;
And neuer noted in him any studie,
Any retyrement, any sequestration,
From open Haunts and Popularitie
   B.Ely. The Strawberry growes vnderneath the Nettle,
And holesome Berryes thriue and ripen best,
Neighbour'd by Fruit of baser qualitie:
And so the Prince obscur'd his Contemplation
Vnder the Veyle of Wildnesse, which (no doubt)
Grew like the Summer Grasse, fastest by Night,
Vnseene, yet cressiue in his facultie
   B.Cant. It must be so; for Miracles are ceast:
And therefore we must needes admit the meanes,
How things are perfected
   B.Ely. But my good Lord:
How now for mittigation of this Bill,
Vrg'd by the Commons? doth his Maiestie
Incline to it, or no?
  B.Cant. He seemes indifferent:
Or rather swaying more vpon our part,
Then cherishing th' exhibiters against vs:
For I haue made an offer to his Maiestie,
Vpon our Spirituall Conuocation,
And in regard of Causes now in hand,
Which I haue open'd to his Grace at large,
As touching France, to giue a greater Summe,
Then euer at one time the Clergie yet
Did to his Predecessors part withall
   B.Ely. How did this offer seeme receiu'd, my Lord?
  B.Cant. With good acceptance of his Maiestie:
Saue that there was not time enough to heare,
As I perceiu'd his Grace would faine haue done,
The seueralls and vnhidden passages
Of his true Titles to some certaine Dukedomes,
And generally, to the Crowne and Seat of France,
Deriu'd from Edward, his great Grandfather
   B.Ely. What was th' impediment that broke this off?
  B.Cant. The French Embassador vpon that instant
Crau'd audience; and the howre I thinke is come,
To giue him hearing: Is it foure a Clock?
  B.Ely. It is
   B.Cant. Then goe we in, to know his Embassie:
Which I could with a ready guesse declare,
Before the Frenchman speake a word of it
   B.Ely. Ile wait vpon you, and I long to heare it.
Enter the King, Humfrey, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick,
Westmerland, and
  King. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
  Exeter. Not here in presence
   King. Send for him, good Vnckle
   Westm. Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my Liege?
  King. Not yet, my Cousin: we would be resolu'd,
Before we heare him, of some things of weight,
That taske our thoughts, concerning vs and France.
Enter two Bishops.
  B.Cant. God and his Angels guard your sacred Throne,
And make you long become it
   King. Sure we thanke you.
My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,
And iustly and religiously vnfold,
Why the Law Salike, that they haue in France,
Or should or should not barre vs in our Clayme:
And God forbid, my deare and faithfull Lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
Or nicely charge your vnderstanding Soule,
With opening Titles miscreate, whose right
Sutes not in natiue colours with the truth:
For God doth know, how many now in health,
Shall drop their blood, in approbation
Of what your reuerence shall incite vs to.
Therefore take heed how you impawne our Person,
How you awake our sleeping Sword of Warre;
We charge you in the Name of God take heed:
For neuer two such Kingdomes did contend,
Without much fall of blood, whose guiltlesse drops
Are euery one, a Woe, a sore Complaint,
'Gainst him, whose wrongs giues edge vnto the Swords,
That makes such waste in briefe mortalitie.
Vnder this Coniuration, speake my Lord:
For we will heare, note, and beleeue in heart,
That what you speake, is in your Conscience washt,
As pure as sinne with Baptisme
   B.Can. Then heare me gracious Soueraign, & you Peers,
That owe your selues, your liues, and seruices,
To this Imperiall Throne. There is no barre
To make against your Highnesse Clayme to France,
But this which they produce from Pharamond,
In terram Salicam Mulieres ne succedant,
No Woman shall succeed in Salike Land:
Which Salike Land, the French vniustly gloze
To be the Realme of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this Law, and Female Barre.
Yet their owne Authors faithfully affirme,
That the Land Salike is in Germanie,
Betweene the Flouds of Sala and of Elue:
Where Charles the Great hauing subdu'd the Saxons,
There left behind and settled certaine French:
Who holding in disdaine the German Women,
For some dishonest manners of their life,
Establisht then this Law; to wit, No Female
Should be Inheritrix in Salike Land:
Which Salike (as I said) 'twixt Elue and Sala,
Is at this day in Germanie, call'd Meisen.
Then doth it well appeare, the Salike Law
Was not deuised for the Realme of France:
Nor did the French possesse the Salike Land,
Vntill foure hundred one and twentie yeeres
After defunction of King Pharamond,
Idly suppos'd the founder of this Law,
Who died within the yeere of our Redemption,
Foure hundred twentie six: and Charles the Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French
Beyond the Riuer Sala, in the yeere
Eight hundred fiue. Besides, their Writers say,
King Pepin, which deposed Childerike,
Did as Heire Generall, being descended
Of Blithild, which was Daughter to King Clothair,
Make Clayme and Title to the Crowne of France.
Hugh Capet also, who vsurpt the Crowne
Of Charles the Duke of Loraine, sole Heire male
Of the true Line and Stock of Charles the Great:
To find his Title with some shewes of truth,
Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught,
Conuey'd himselfe as th' Heire to th' Lady Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemaine, who was the Sonne
To Lewes the Emperour, and Lewes the Sonne
Of Charles the Great: also King Lewes the Tenth,
Who was sole Heire to the Vsurper Capet,
Could not keepe quiet in his conscience,
Wearing the Crowne of France, 'till satisfied,
That faire Queene Isabel, his Grandmother,
Was Lineall of the Lady Ermengare,
Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Loraine:
By the which Marriage, the Lyne of Charles the Great
Was re-vnited to the Crowne of France.
So, that as cleare as is the Summers Sunne,
King Pepins Title, and Hugh Capets Clayme,
King Lewes his satisfaction, all appeare
To hold in Right and Title of the Female:
So doe the Kings of France vnto this day.
Howbeit, they would hold vp this Salique Law,
To barre your Highnesse clayming from the Female,
And rather chuse to hide them in a Net,
Then amply to imbarre their crooked Titles,
Vsurpt from you and your Progenitors
   King. May I with right and conscience make this claim?
  Bish.Cant. The sinne vpon my head, dread Soueraigne:
For in the Booke of Numbers is it writ,
When the man dyes, let the Inheritance
Descend vnto the Daughter. Gracious Lord,
Stand for your owne, vnwind your bloody Flagge,
Looke back into your mightie Ancestors:
Goe my dread Lord, to your great Grandsires Tombe,
From whom you clayme; inuoke his Warlike Spirit,
And your Great Vnckles, Edward the Black Prince,
Who on the French ground play'd a Tragedie,
Making defeat on the full Power of France:
Whiles his most mightie Father on a Hill
Stood smiling, to behold his Lyons Whelpe
Forrage in blood of French Nobilitie.
O Noble English, that could entertaine
With halfe their Forces, the full pride of France,
And let another halfe stand laughing by,
All out of worke, and cold for action
   Bish. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
And with your puissant Arme renew their Feats;
You are their Heire, you sit vpon their Throne:
The Blood and Courage that renowned them,
Runs in your Veines: and my thrice-puissant Liege
Is in the very May-Morne of his Youth,
Ripe for Exploits and mightie Enterprises
   Exe. Your Brother Kings and Monarchs of the Earth
Doe all expect, that you should rowse your selfe,
As did the former Lyons of your Blood
   West. They know your Grace hath cause, and means, and might;
So hath your Highnesse: neuer King of England
Had Nobles richer, and more loyall Subiects,
Whose hearts haue left their bodyes here in England,
And lye pauillion'd in the fields of France
   Bish.Can. O let their bodyes follow my deare Liege
With Bloods, and Sword and Fire, to win your Right:
In ayde whereof, we of the Spiritualtie
Will rayse your Highnesse such a mightie Summe,
As neuer did the Clergie at one time
Bring in to any of your Ancestors
   King. We must not onely arme t' inuade the French,
But lay downe our proportions, to defend
Against the Scot, who will make roade vpon vs,
With all aduantages
   Bish.Can. They of those Marches, gracious Soueraign,
Shall be a Wall sufficient to defend
Our in-land from the pilfering Borderers
   King. We do not meane the coursing snatchers onely,
But feare the maine intendment of the Scot,
Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to vs:
For you shall reade, that my great Grandfather
Neuer went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot, on his vnfurnisht Kingdome,
Came pouring like the Tyde into a breach,
With ample and brim fulnesse of his force,
Galling the gleaned Land with hot Assayes,
Girding with grieuous siege, Castles and Townes:
That England being emptie of defence,
Hath shooke and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood
   B.Can. She hath bin the[n] more fear'd the[n] harm'd, my Liege:
For heare her but exampl'd by her selfe,
When all her Cheualrie hath been in France,
And shee a mourning Widdow of her Nobles,
Shee hath her selfe not onely well defended,
But taken and impounded as a Stray,
The King of Scots: whom shee did send to France,
To fill King Edwards fame with prisoner Kings,
And make their Chronicle as rich with prayse,
As is the Owse and bottome of the Sea
With sunken Wrack, and sum-lesse Treasuries
   Bish.Ely. But there's a saying very old and true,
If that you will France win, then with Scotland first begin.
For once the Eagle (England) being in prey,
To her vnguarded Nest, the Weazell (Scot)
Comes sneaking, and so sucks her Princely Egges,
Playing the Mouse in absence of the Cat,
To tame and hauocke more then she can eate
   Exet. It followes then, the Cat must stay at home,
Yet that is but a crush'd necessity,
Since we haue lockes to safegard necessaries,
And pretty traps to catch the petty theeues.
While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad,
Th' aduised head defends it selfe at home:
For Gouernment, though high, and low, and lower,
Put into parts, doth keepe in one consent,
Congreeing in a full and natural close,
Like Musicke
   Cant. Therefore doth heauen diuide
The state of man in diuers functions,
Setting endeuour in continual motion:
To which is fixed as an ayme or butt,
Obedience: for so worke the Hony Bees,
Creatures that by a rule in Nature teach
The Act of Order to a peopled Kingdome.
They haue a King, and Officers of sorts,
Where some like Magistrates correct at home:
Others, like Merchants venter Trade abroad:
Others, like Souldiers armed in their stings,
Make boote vpon the Summers Veluet buddes:
Which pillage, they with merry march bring home
To the Tent-royal of their Emperor:
Who busied in his Maiesties surueyes
The singing Masons building roofes of Gold,
The ciuil Citizens kneading vp the hony;
The poore Mechanicke Porters, crowding in
Their heauy burthens at his narrow gate:
The sad-ey'd Iustice with his surly humme,
Deliuering ore to Executors pale
The lazie yawning Drone: I this inferre,
That many things hauing full reference
To one consent, may worke contrariously,
As many Arrowes loosed seuerall wayes
Come to one marke: as many wayes meet in one towne,
As many fresh streames meet in one salt sea;
As many Lynes close in the Dials center:
So may a thousand actions once a foote,
And in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my Liege,
Diuide your happy England into foure,
Whereof, take you one quarter into France,
And you withall shall make all Gallia shake.
If we with thrice such powers left at home,
Cannot defend our owne doores from the dogge,
Let vs be worried, and our Nation lose
The name of hardinesse and policie
   King. Call in the Messengers sent from the Dolphin.
Now are we well resolu'd, and by Gods helpe
And yours, the noble sinewes of our power,
France being ours, wee'l bend it to our Awe,
Or breake it all to peeces. Or there wee'l sit,
(Ruling in large and ample Emperie,
Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedomes)
Or lay these bones in an vnworthy Vrne,
Tomblesse, with no remembrance ouer them:
Either our History shall with full mouth
Speake freely of our Acts, or else our graue
Like Turkish mute, shall haue a tonguelesse mouth,
Not worshipt with a waxen Epitaph.
Enter Ambassadors of France.
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our faire Cosin Dolphin: for we heare,
Your greeting is from him, not from the King
   Amb. May't please your Maiestie to giue vs leaue
Freely to render what we haue in charge:
Or shall we sparingly shew you farre off
The Dolphins meaning, and our Embassie
   King. We are no Tyrant, but a Christian King,
Vnto whose grace our passion is as subiect
As is our wretches fettred in our prisons,
Therefore with franke and with vncurbed plainnesse,
Tell vs the Dolphins minde
   Amb. Thus than in few:
Your Highnesse lately sending into France,
Did claime some certaine Dukedomes, in the right
Of your great Predecessor, King Edward the third.
In answer of which claime, the Prince our Master
Sayes, that you sauour too much of your youth,
And bids you be aduis'd: There's nought in France,
That can be with a nimble Galliard wonne:
You cannot reuell into Dukedomes there.
He therefore sends you meeter for your spirit
This Tun of Treasure; and in lieu of this,
Desires you let the dukedomes that you claime
Heare no more of you. This the Dolphin speakes
   King. What Treasure Vncle?
  Exe. Tennis balles, my Liege
   Kin. We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with vs,
His Present, and your paines we thanke you for:
When we haue matcht our Rackets to these Balles,
We will in France (by Gods grace) play a set,
Shall strike his fathers Crowne into the hazard.
Tell him, he hath made a match with such a Wrangler,
That all the Courts of France will be disturb'd
With Chaces. And we vnderstand him well,
How he comes o're vs with our wilder dayes,
Not measuring what vse we made of them.
We neuer valew'd this poore seate of England,
And therefore liuing hence, did giue our selfe
To barbarous license: As 'tis euer common,
That men are merriest, when they are from home.
But tell the Dolphin, I will keepe my State,
Be like a King, and shew my sayle of Greatnesse,
When I do rowse me in my Throne of France.
For that I haue layd by my Maiestie,
And plodded like a man for working dayes:
But I will rise there with so full a glorie,
That I will dazle all the eyes of France,
Yea strike the Dolphin blinde to looke on vs,
And tell the pleasant Prince, this Mocke of his
Hath turn'd his balles to Gun-stones, and his soule
Shall stand sore charged, for the wastefull vengeance
That shall flye with them: for many a thousand widows
Shall this his Mocke, mocke out of their deer husbands;
Mocke mothers from their sonnes, mock Castles downe:
And some are yet vngotten and vnborne,
That shal haue cause to curse the Dolphins scorne.
But this lyes all within the wil of God,
To whom I do appeale, and in whose name
Tel you the Dolphin, I am comming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightfull hand in a wel-hallow'd cause.
So get you hence in peace: And tell the Dolphin,
His Iest will sauour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weepe more then did laugh at it.
Conuey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
Exeunt. Ambassadors.
  Exe. This was a merry Message
   King. We hope to make the Sender blush at it:
Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy howre,
That may giue furth'rance to our Expedition:
For we haue now no thought in vs but France,
Saue those to God, that runne before our businesse.
Therefore let our proportions for these Warres
Be soone collected, and all things thought vpon,
That may with reasonable swiftnesse adde
More Feathers to our Wings: for God before,
Wee'le chide this Dolphin at his fathers doore.
Therefore let euery man now taske his thought,
That this faire Action may on foot be brought.
Flourish. Enter Chorus.
Now all the Youth of England are on fire,
And silken Dalliance in the Wardrobe lyes:
Now thriue the Armorers, and Honors thought
Reignes solely in the breast of euery man.
They sell the Pasture now, to buy the Horse;
Following the Mirror of all Christian Kings,
With winged heeles, as English Mercuries.
For now sits Expectation in the Ayre,
And hides a Sword, from Hilts vnto the Point,
With Crownes Imperiall, Crownes and Coronets,
Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.
The French aduis'd by good intelligence
Of this most dreadfull preparation,
Shake in their feare, and with pale Pollicy
Seeke to diuert the English purposes.
O England: Modell to thy inward Greatnesse,
Like little Body with a mightie Heart:
What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kinde and naturall:
But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out,
A nest of hollow bosomes, which he filles
With treacherous Crownes, and three corrupted men:
One, Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the second
Henry Lord Scroope of Masham, and the third
Sir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland,
Haue for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed)
Confirm'd Conspiracy with fearefull France,
And by their hands, this grace of Kings must dye.
If Hell and Treason hold their promises,
Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton.
Linger your patience on, and wee'l digest
Th' abuse of distance; force a play:
The summe is payde, the Traitors are agreed,
The King is set from London, and the Scene
Is now transported (Gentles) to Southampton,
There is the Play-house now, there must you sit,
And thence to France shall we conuey you safe,
And bring you backe: Charming the narrow seas
To giue you gentle Passe: for if we may,
Wee'l not offend one stomacke with our Play.
But till the King come forth, and not till then,
Vnto Southampton do we shift our Scene.
Enter Corporall Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe.
  Bar. Well met Corporall Nym
   Nym. Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolfe
   Bar. What, are Ancient Pistoll and you friends yet?
  Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little: but when
time shall serue, there shall be smiles, but that shall be as
it may. I dare not fight, but I will winke and holde out
mine yron: it is a simple one, but what though? It will
toste Cheese, and it will endure cold, as another mans
sword will: and there's an end
   Bar. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friendes,
and wee'l bee all three sworne brothers to France: Let't
be so good Corporall Nym
   Nym. Faith, I will liue so long as I may, that's the certaine
of it: and when I cannot liue any longer, I will doe
as I may: That is my rest, that is the rendeuous of it
   Bar. It is certaine Corporall, that he is marryed to
Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you
were troth-plight to her
   Nym. I cannot tell, Things must be as they may: men
may sleepe, and they may haue their throats about them
at that time, and some say, kniues haue edges: It must
be as it may, though patience be a tyred name, yet shee
will plodde, there must be Conclusions, well, I cannot
Enter Pistoll, & Quickly.
  Bar. Heere comes Ancient Pistoll and his wife: good
Corporall be patient heere. How now mine Hoaste Pistoll?
  Pist. Base Tyke, cal'st thou mee Hoste, now by this
hand I sweare I scorne the terme: nor shall my Nel keep
   Host. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge
and board a dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that liue
honestly by the pricke of their Needles, but it will bee
thought we keepe a Bawdy-house straight. O welliday
Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall see wilful adultery
and murther committed
   Bar. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer nothing
   Nym. Pish
   Pist. Pish for thee, Island dogge: thou prickeard cur
   Host. Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and put
vp your sword
   Nym. Will you shogge off? I would haue you solus
   Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile; The solus
in thy most meruailous face, the solus in thy teeth, and
in thy throate, and in thy hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw
perdy; and which is worse, within thy nastie mouth. I
do retort the solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pistols
cocke is vp, and flashing fire will follow
   Nym. I am not Barbason, you cannot coniure mee: I
haue an humor to knocke you indifferently well: If you
grow fowle with me Pistoll, I will scoure you with my
Rapier, as I may, in fayre tearmes. If you would walke
off, I would pricke your guts a little in good tearmes, as
I may, and that's the humor of it
   Pist. O Braggard vile, and damned furious wight,
The Graue doth gape, and doting death is neere,
Therefore exhale
   Bar. Heare me, heare me what I say: Hee that strikes
the first stroake, Ile run him vp to the hilts, as I am a soldier
   Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
Giue me thy fist, thy fore-foote to me giue: Thy spirites
are most tall
   Nym. I will cut thy throate one time or other in faire
termes, that is the humor of it
   Pistoll. Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee againe.
O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No, to the spittle goe, and from the Poudring tub of infamy,
fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Cressids kinde, Doll
Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I haue, and I
will hold the Quondam Quickely for the onely shee: and
Pauca, there's enough to go to.
Enter the Boy.
  Boy. Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my Mayster,
and your Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed.
Good Bardolfe, put thy face betweene his sheets, and do
the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill
   Bard. Away you Rogue
   Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one
of these dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Husband
come home presently.
  Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must
to France together: why the diuel should we keep kniues
to cut one anothers throats?
  Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle
   Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you
  Pist. Base is the Slaue that payes
   Nym. That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it
   Pist. As manhood shal compound: push home.
  Bard. By this sword, hee that makes the first thrust,
Ile kill him: By this sword, I wil
   Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their course
  Bar. Coporall Nym, & thou wilt be friends be frends,
and thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me to: prethee
   Pist. A Noble shalt thou haue, and present pay, and
Liquor likewise will I giue to thee, and friendshippe
shall combyne, and brotherhood. Ile liue by Nymme, &
Nymme shall liue by me, is not this iust? For I shal Sutler
be vnto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Giue mee
   Nym. I shall haue my Noble?
  Pist. In cash, most iustly payd
   Nym. Well, then that the humor of't.
Enter Hostesse.
  Host. As euer you come of women, come in quickly
to sir Iohn: A poore heart, hee is so shak'd of a burning
quotidian Tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold.
Sweet men, come to him
   Nym. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight,
that's the euen of it
   Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is fracted
and corroborate
   Nym. The King is a good King, but it must bee as it
may: he passes some humors, and carreeres
   Pist. Let vs condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we
Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.
  Bed. Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitors
  Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by
   West. How smooth and euen they do bear themselues,
As if allegeance in their bosomes sate
Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty
   Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend,
By interception, which they dreame not of
   Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious fauours;
That he should for a forraigne purse, so sell
His Soueraignes life to death and treachery.
Sound Trumpets.
Enter the King, Scroope, Cambridge, and Gray.
  King. Now sits the winde faire, and we will aboord.
My Lord of Cambridge, and my kinde Lord of Masham,
And you my gentle Knight, giue me your thoughts:
Thinke you not that the powres we beare with vs
Will cut their passage through the force of France?
Doing the execution, and the acte,
For which we haue in head assembled them
   Scro. No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best
   King. I doubt not that, since we are well perswaded
We carry not a heart with vs from hence,
That growes not in a faire consent with ours:
Nor leaue not one behinde, that doth not wish
Successe and Conquest to attend on vs
   Cam. Neuer was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd,
Then is your Maiesty; there's not I thinke a subiect
That sits in heart-greefe and vneasinesse
Vnder the sweet shade of your gouernment
   Kni. True: those that were your Fathers enemies,
Haue steep'd their gauls in hony, and do serue you
With hearts create of duty, and of zeale
   King. We therefore haue great cause of thankfulnes,
And shall forget the office of our hand
Sooner then quittance of desert and merit,
According to the weight and worthinesse
   Scro. So seruice shall with steeled sinewes toyle,
And labour shall refresh it selfe with hope
To do your Grace incessant seruices
   King. We Iudge no lesse. Vnkle of Exeter,
Inlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rayl'd against our person: We consider
It was excesse of Wine that set him on,
And on his more aduice, We pardon him
   Scro. That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd Soueraigne, least example
Breed (by his sufferance) more of such a kind
   King. O let vs yet be mercifull
   Cam. So may your Highnesse, and yet punish too
   Grey. Sir, you shew great mercy if you giue him life,
After the taste of much correction
   King. Alas, your too much loue and care of me,
Are heauy Orisons 'gainst this poore wretch:
If little faults proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
When capitall crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appeare before vs? Wee'l yet inlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in their deere care
And tender preseruation of our person
Wold haue him punish'd. And now to our French causes,
Who are the late Commissioners?
  Cam. I one my Lord,
Your Highnesse bad me aske for it to day
   Scro. So did you me my Liege
   Gray. And I my Royall Soueraigne
   King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours:
There yours Lord Scroope of Masham, and Sir Knight:
Gray of Northumberland, this same is yours:
Reade them, and know I know your worthinesse.
My Lord of Westmerland, and Vnkle Exeter,
We will aboord to night. Why how now Gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you loose
So much complexion? Looke ye how they change:
Their cheekes are paper. Why, what reade you there,
That haue so cowarded and chac'd your blood
Out of apparance
   Cam. I do confesse my fault,
And do submit me to your Highnesse mercy
   Gray. Scro. To which we all appeale
   King. The mercy that was quicke in vs but late,
By your owne counsaile is supprest and kill'd:
You must not dare (for shame) to talke of mercy,
For your owne reasons turne into your bosomes,
As dogs vpon their maisters, worrying you:
See you my Princes, and my Noble Peeres,
These English monsters: My Lord of Cambridge heere,
You know how apt our loue was, to accord
To furnish with all appertinents
Belonging to his Honour; and this man,
Hath for a few light Crownes, lightly conspir'd
And sworne vnto the practises of France
To kill vs heere in Hampton. To the which,
This Knight no lesse for bounty bound to Vs
Then Cambridge is, hath likewise sworne. But O,
What shall I say to thee Lord Scroope, thou cruell,
Ingratefull, sauage, and inhumane Creature?
Thou that didst beare the key of all my counsailes,
That knew'st the very bottome of my soule,
That (almost) might'st haue coyn'd me into Golde,
Would'st thou haue practis'd on me, for thy vse?
May it be possible, that forraigne hyer
Could out of thee extract one sparke of euill
That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange,
That though the truth of it stands off as grosse
As black and white, my eye will scarsely see it.
Treason, and murther, euer kept together,
As two yoake diuels sworne to eythers purpose,
Working so grossely in an naturall cause,
That admiration did not hoope at them.
But thou (gainst all proportion) didst bring in
Wonder to waite on treason, and on murther:
And whatsoeuer cunning fiend it was
That wrought vpon thee so preposterously,
Hath got the voyce in hell for excellence:
And other diuels that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle vp damnation,
With patches, colours, and with formes being fetcht
From glist'ring semblances of piety:
But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand vp,
Gaue thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Vnlesse to dub thee with the name of Traitor.
If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world,
He might returne to vastie Tartar backe,
And tell the Legions, I can neuer win
A soule so easie as that Englishmans.
Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infected
The sweetnesse of affiance? Shew men dutifull,
Why so didst thou: seeme they graue and learned?
Why so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family?
Why so didst thou. Seeme they religious?
Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,
Free from grosse passion, or of mirth, or anger,
Constant in spirit, not sweruing with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
Not working with the eye, without the eare,
And but in purged iudgement trusting neither,
Such and so finely boulted didst thou seeme:
And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot,
To make thee full fraught man, and best indued
With some suspition, I will weepe for thee.
For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes is like
Another fall of Man. Their faults are open,
Arrest them to the answer of the Law,
And God acquit them of their practises
   Exe. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of
Richard Earle of Cambridge.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas
Lord Scroope of Marsham.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas
Grey, Knight of Northumberland
   Scro. Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd,
And I repent my fault more then my death,
Which I beseech your Highnesse to forgiue,
Although my body pay the price of it
   Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not seduce,
Although I did admit it as a motiue,
The sooner to effect what I intended:
But God be thanked for preuention,
Which in sufferance heartily will reioyce,
Beseeching God, and you, to pardon mee
   Gray. Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyce
At the discouery of most dangerous Treason,
Then I do at this houre ioy ore my selfe,
Preuented from a damned enterprize;
My fault, but not my body, pardon Soueraigne
   King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence
You haue conspir'd against Our Royall person,
Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his Coffers,
Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death:
Wherein you would haue sold your King to slaughter,
His Princes, and his Peeres to seruitude,
His Subiects to oppression, and contempt,
And his whole Kingdome into desolation:
Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge,
But we our Kingdomes safety must so tender,
Whose ruine you sought, that to her Lawes
We do deliuer you. Get you therefore hence,
(Poore miserable wretches) to your death:
The taste whereof, God of his mercy giue
You patience to indure, and true Repentance
Of all your deare offences. Beare them hence.
Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you as vs, like glorious.
We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre,
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous Treason, lurking in our way,
To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now,
But euery Rubbe is smoothed on our way.
Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuer
Our Puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance,
No King of England, if not King of France.
Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.
  Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring
thee to Staines
   Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph,
be blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle
thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe hee is dead, and wee must
erne therefore
   Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is,
eyther in Heauen, or in Hell
   Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs
Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a
finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome
Childe: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue and One, eu'n
at the turning o'th' Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with
the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fingers
end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was
as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now
Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a good cheare: so a
cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now I,
to comfort him, bid him a should not thinke of God; I
hop'd there was no neede to trouble himselfe with any
such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more Clothes on his
feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they
were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and so
vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone
   Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack
   Hostesse. I, that a did
   Bard. And of Women
   Hostesse. Nay, that a did not
   Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate
   Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Colour
he neuer lik'd
   Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him about
   Hostesse. A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women:
but then hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of
   Boy. Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon
Bardolphs Nose, and a said it was a blacke Soule burning
   Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that fire:
that's all the Riches I got in his seruice
   Nim. Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone from
   Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes:
Looke to my Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences
rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: trust none: for Oathes
are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and hold-fast
is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee
thy Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yokefellowes
in Armes, let vs to France, like Horseleeches
my Boyes, to sucke, to sucke, the very blood to
   Boy. And that's but vnwholesome food, they say
   Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march
   Bard. Farwell Hostesse
   Nim. I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: but
   Pist. Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I thee
   Hostesse. Farwell: adieu.
Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry and
  King. Thus comes the English with full power vpon vs,
And more then carefully it vs concernes,
To answer Royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britaine,
Of Brabant and of Orleance, shall make forth,
And you Prince Dolphin, with all swift dispatch
To lyne and new repayre our Townes of Warre
With men of courage, and with meanes defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As Waters to the sucking of a Gulfe.
It fits vs then to be as prouident,
As feare may teach vs, out of late examples
Left by the fatall and neglected English,
Vpon our fields
   Dolphin. My most redoubted Father,
It is most meet we arme vs 'gainst the Foe:
For Peace it selfe should not so dull a Kingdome,
(Though War nor no knowne Quarrel were in question)
But that Defences, Musters, Preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,
As were a Warre in expectation.
Therefore I say, 'tis meet we all goe forth,
To view the sick and feeble parts of France:
And let vs doe it with no shew of feare,
No, with no more, then if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitson Morris-dance:
For, my good Liege, shee is so idly King'd,
Her Scepter so phantastically borne,
By a vaine giddie shallow humorous Youth,
That feare attends her not
   Const. O peace, Prince Dolphin,
You are too much mistaken in this King:
Question your Grace the late Embassadors,
With what great State he heard their Embassie,
How well supply'd with Noble Councellors,
How modest in exception; and withall,
How terrible in constant resolution:
And you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent,
Were but the out-side of the Roman Brutus,
Couering Discretion with a Coat of Folly;
As Gardeners doe with Ordure hide those Roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate
   Dolphin. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable.
But though we thinke it so, it is no matter:
In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The Enemie more mightie then he seemes,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd:
Which of a weake and niggardly proiection,
Doth like a Miser spoyle his Coat, with scanting
A little Cloth
   King. Thinke we King Harry strong:
And Princes, looke you strongly arme to meet him.
The Kindred of him hath beene flesht vpon vs:
And he is bred out of that bloodie straine,
That haunted vs in our familiar Pathes:
Witnesse our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy Battell fatally was strucke,
And all our Princes captiu'd, by the hand
Of that black Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:
Whiles that his Mountaine Sire, on Mountaine standing
Vp in the Ayre, crown'd with the Golden Sunne,
Saw his Heroicall Seed, and smil'd to see him
Mangle the Worke of Nature, and deface
The Patternes, that by God and by French Fathers
Had twentie yeeres been made. This is a Stem
Of that Victorious Stock: and let vs feare
The Natiue mightinesse and fate of him.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mess. Embassadors from Harry King of England,
Doe craue admittance to your Maiestie
   King. Weele giue them present audience.
Goe, and bring them.
You see this Chase is hotly followed, friends
   Dolphin. Turne head, and stop pursuit: for coward Dogs
Most spend their mouths, whe[n] what they seem to threaten
Runs farre before them. Good my Soueraigne
Take vp the English short, and let them know
Of what a Monarchie you are the Head:
Selfe-loue, my Liege, is not so vile a sinne,
As selfe-neglecting.
Enter Exeter.
  King. From our Brother of England?
  Exe. From him, and thus he greets your Maiestie:
He wills you in the Name of God Almightie,
That you deuest your selfe, and lay apart
The borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heauen,
By Law of Nature, and of Nations, longs
To him and to his Heires, namely, the Crowne,
And all wide-stretched Honors, that pertaine
By Custome, and the Ordinance of Times,
Vnto the Crowne of France: that you may know
'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward Clayme,
Pickt from the worme-holes of long-vanisht dayes,
Nor from the dust of old Obliuion rakt,
He sends you this most memorable Lyne,
In euery Branch truly demonstratiue;
Willing you ouer-looke this Pedigree:
And when you find him euenly deriu'd
From his most fam'd, of famous Ancestors,
Edward the third; he bids you then resigne
Your Crowne and Kingdome, indirectly held
From him, the Natiue and true Challenger
   King. Or else what followes?
  Exe. Bloody constraint: for if you hide the Crowne
Euen in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
Therefore in fierce Tempest is he comming,
In Thunder and in Earth-quake, like a Ioue:
That if requiring faile, he will compell.
And bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord,
Deliuer vp the Crowne, and to take mercie
On the poore Soules, for whom this hungry Warre
Opens his vastie Iawes: and on your head
Turning the Widdowes Teares, the Orphans Cryes,
The dead-mens Blood, the priuy Maidens Groanes,
For Husbands, Fathers, and betrothed Louers,
That shall be swallowed in this Controuersie.
This is his Clayme, his Threatning, and my Message:
Vnlesse the Dolphin be in presence here;
To whom expressely I bring greeting to
   King. For vs, we will consider of this further:
To morrow shall you beare our full intent
Back to our Brother of England
   Dolph. For the Dolphin,
I stand here for him: what to him from England?
  Exe. Scorne and defiance, sleight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mis-become
The mightie Sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus sayes my King: and if your Fathers Highnesse
Doe not, in graunt of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter Mock you sent his Maiestie;
Hee'le call you to so hot an Answer of it,
That Caues and Wombie Vaultages of France
Shall chide your Trespas, and returne your Mock
In second Accent of his Ordinance
   Dolph. Say: if my Father render faire returne,
It is against my will: for I desire
Nothing but Oddes with England.
To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanitie,
I did present him with the Paris-Balls
   Exe. Hee'le make your Paris Louer shake for it,
Were it the Mistresse Court of mightie Europe:
And be assur'd, you'le find a diff'rence,
As we his Subiects haue in wonder found,
Betweene the promise of his greener dayes,
And these he masters now: now he weighes Time
Euen to the vtmost Graine: that you shall reade
In your owne Losses, if he stay in France
   King. To morrow shall you know our mind at full.
  Exe. Dispatch vs with all speed, least that our King
Come here himselfe to question our delay;
For he is footed in this Land already
   King. You shalbe soone dispatcht, with faire conditions.
A Night is but small breathe, and little pawse,
To answer matters of this consequence.
Actus Secundus.
Flourish. Enter Chorus.
Thus with imagin'd wing our swift Scene flyes,
In motion of no lesse celeritie then that of Thought.
Suppose, that you haue seene
The well-appointed King at Douer Peer,
Embarke his Royaltie: and his braue Fleet,
With silken Streamers, the young Phebus fayning;
Play with your Fancies: and in them behold,
Vpon the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boyes climbing;
Heare the shrill Whistle, which doth order giue
To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden Sayles,
Borne with th' inuisible and creeping Wind,
Draw the huge Bottomes through the furrowed Sea,
Bresting the loftie Surge. O, doe but thinke
You stand vpon the Riuage, and behold
A Citie on th' inconstant Billowes dauncing:
For so appeares this Fleet Maiesticall,
Holding due course to Harflew. Follow, follow:
Grapple your minds to sternage of this Nauie,
And leaue your England as dead Mid-night, still,
Guarded with Grandsires, Babyes, and old Women,
Eyther past, or not arriu'd to pyth and puissance:
For who is he, whose Chin is but enricht
With one appearing Hayre, that will not follow
These cull'd and choyse-drawne Caualiers to France?
Worke, worke your Thoughts, and therein see a Siege:
Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages,
With fatall mouthes gaping on girded Harflew.
Suppose th' Embassador from the French comes back:
Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him
Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie,
Some petty and vnprofitable Dukedomes.
The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner
With Lynstock now the diuellish Cannon touches,
Alarum, and Chambers goe off.
And downe goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eech out our performance with your mind.
Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester. Alarum: Scaling
  King. Once more vnto the Breach,
Deare friends, once more;
Or close the Wall vp with our English dead:
In Peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
As modest stillnesse, and humilitie:
But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares,
Then imitate the action of the Tyger:
Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood,
Disguise faire Nature with hard-fauour'd Rage:
Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:
Let it pry through the portage of the Head,
Like the Brasse Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelme it,
As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke
O're-hang and iutty his confounded Base,
Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean.
Now set the Teeth, and stretch the Nosthrill wide,
Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery Spirit
To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English,
Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe:
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,
Haue in these parts from Morne till Euen fought,
And sheath'd their Swords, for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your Mothers: now attest,
That those whom you call'd Fathers, did beget you.
Be Coppy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen,
Whose Lyms were made in England; shew vs here
The mettell of your Pasture: let vs sweare,
That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not:
For there is none of you so meane and base,
That hath not Noble luster in your eyes.
I see you stand like Grey-hounds in the slips,
Straying vpon the Start. The Game's afoot:
Follow your Spirit; and vpon this Charge,
Cry, God for Harry, England, and S[aint]. George.
Alarum, and Chambers goe off.
Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, and Boy.
  Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach
   Nim. 'Pray thee Corporall stay, the Knocks are too
hot: and for mine owne part, I haue not a Case of Liues:
the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song
   Pist. The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe abound:
Knocks goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and
dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloody Field, doth winne
immortall fame
   Boy. Would I were in a Ale-house in London, I
would giue all my fame for a Pot of Ale, and safetie
   Pist. And I: If wishes would preuayle with me, my
purpose should not fayle with me; but thither would I
   Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on
Enter Fluellen.
  Flu. Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you
   Pist. Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould: abate
thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage,
great Duke. Good Bawcock bate thy Rage: vse lenitie
   Nim. These be good humors: your Honor wins bad
  Boy. As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three
Swashers: I am Boy to them all three, but all they three,
though they would serue me, could not be Man to me;
for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount to a man:
for Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by the
meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for Pistoll,
hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the
meanes whereof, a breakes Words, and keepes whole
Weapons: for Nim, hee hath heard, that men of few
Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say
his Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his
few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for
a neuer broke any mans Head but his owne, and that was
against a Post, when he was drunke. They will steale any
thing, and call it Purchase. Bardolph stole a Lute-case,
bore it twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence.
Nim and Bardolph are sworne Brothers in filching: and
in Callice they stole a fire-shouell. I knew by that peece
of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would
haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues
or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much against my
Manhood, if I should take from anothers Pocket, to put
into mine; for it is plaine pocketting vp of Wrongs.
I must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their
Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore
I must cast it vp.
Enter Gower.
  Gower. Captaine Fluellen, you must come presently to
the Mynes; the Duke of Gloucester would speake with
   Flu. To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so
good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes
is not according to the disciplines of the Warre; the concauities
of it is not sufficient: for looke you, th' athuersarie,
you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt
himselfe foure yard vnder the Countermines: by Cheshu,
I thinke a will plowe vp all, if there is not better directions
   Gower. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the Order
of the Siege is giuen, is altogether directed by an Irish
man, a very valiant Gentleman yfaith
   Welch. It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not?
  Gower. I thinke it be
   Welch. By Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I will
verifie as much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions
in the true disciplines of the Warres, looke you, of the
Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.
Enter Makmorrice, and Captaine Iamy.
  Gower. Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine
Iamy, with him
   Welch. Captaine Iamy is a maruellous falorous Gentleman,
that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge
in th' aunchiant Warres, vpon my particular knowledge
of his directions: by Cheshu he will maintaine his
Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in
the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans
   Scot. I say gudday, Captaine Fluellen
   Welch. Godden to your Worship, good Captaine
   Gower. How now Captaine Mackmorrice, haue you
quit the Mynes? haue the Pioners giuen o're?
  Irish. By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke ish
giue ouer, the Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand
I sweare, and my fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done:
it ish giue ouer: I would haue blowed vp the Towne,
so Chrish saue me law, in an houre. O tish ill done, tish ill
done: by my Hand tish ill done
   Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I beseech you now,
will you voutsafe me, looke you, a few disputations with
you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of
the Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way of Argument,
looke you, and friendly communication: partly to satisfie
my Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of
my Mind: as touching the direction of the Militarie discipline,
that is the Point
   Scot. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath,
and I sall quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion:
that sall I mary
   Irish. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue me:
the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the
King, and the Dukes: it is no time to discourse, the Town
is beseech'd: and the Trumpet call vs to the breech, and
we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs all:
so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my
hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be
done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa'me law
   Scot. By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take themselues
to slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge i'th'
grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as valorously
as I may, that sal I suerly do, that is the breff and
the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some question
tween you tway
   Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you,
vnder your correction, there is not many of your Nation
   Irish. Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a
Villaine, and a Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What
ish my Nation? Who talkes of my Nation?
  Welch. Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise
then is meant, Captaine Mackmorrice, peraduenture I
shall thinke you doe not vse me with that affabilitie, as in
discretion you ought to vse me, looke you, being as good
a man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre, and
in the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particularities
   Irish. I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe:
so Chrish saue me, I will cut off your Head
   Gower. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other
   Scot. A, that's a foule fault.
  Gower. The Towne sounds a Parley
   Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, when there is more
better oportunitie to be required, looke you, I will be
so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of Warre:
and there is an end.
Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.
  King. How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne?
This is the latest Parle we will admit:
Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues,
Or like to men prowd of destruction,
Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier,
A Name that in my thoughts becomes me best;
If I begin the batt'rie once againe,
I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew,
Till in her ashes she lye buryed.
The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp,
And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart,
In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge
With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse
Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants.
What is it then to me, if impious Warre,
Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends,
Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats,
Enlynckt to wast and desolation?
What is't to me, when you your selues are cause,
If your pure Maydens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing Violation?
What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse,
When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere?
We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command
Vpon th' enraged Souldiers in their spoyle,
As send Precepts to the Leuiathan, to come ashore.
Therefore, you men of Harflew,
Take pitty of your Towne and of your People,
Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command,
Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace
O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds
Of heady Murther, Spoyle, and Villany.
If not: why in a moment looke to see
The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand
Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters:
Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards,
And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls:
Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes,
Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd,
Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry,
At Herods bloody-hunting slaughter-men.
What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd?
Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd.
Enter Gouernour.
  Gouer. Our expectation hath this day an end:
The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated,
Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready,
To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King,
We yeeld our Towne and Liues to thy soft Mercy:
Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours,
For we no longer are defensible
   King. Open your Gates: Come Vnckle Exeter,
Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine,
And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French:
Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle.
The Winter comming on, and Sicknesse growing
Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis.
To night in Harflew will we be your Guest,
To morrow for the March are we addrest.
Flourish, and enter the Towne.
Enter Katherine and an old Gentlewoman.
  Kathe. Alice, tu as este en Angleterre, & tu bien parlas
   Alice. En peu Madame
   Kath. Ie te prie m' ensigniez, il faut que ie apprend a parlen:
Comient appelle vous le main en Anglois?
  Alice. Le main il & appelle de Hand
   Kath. De Hand
   Alice. E le doyts
   Kat. Le doyts, ma foy Ie oublie, e doyt mays, ie me souemeray
le doyts ie pense qu'ils ont appelle de fingres, ou de fingres
   Alice. Le main de Hand, le doyts le Fingres, ie pense que ie
suis le bon escholier
   Kath. I'ay gaynie diux mots d' Anglois vistement, coment
appelle vous le ongles?
  Alice. Le ongles, les appellons de Nayles
   Kath. De Nayles escoute: dites moy, si ie parle bien: de
Hand, de Fingres, e de Nayles
   Alice. C'est bien dict Madame, il & fort bon Anglois
   Kath. Dites moy l' Anglois pour le bras
   Alice. De Arme, Madame
   Kath. E de coudee
   Alice. D' Elbow
   Kath. D' Elbow: Ie men fay le repiticio de touts les mots
que vous maves, apprins des a present
   Alice. Il & trop difficile Madame, comme Ie pense
   Kath. Excuse moy Alice escoute, d' Hand, de Fingre, de
Nayles, d' Arma, de Bilbow
   Alice. D' Elbow, Madame
   Kath. O Seigneur Dieu, ie men oublie d' Elbow, coment appelle
   Alice. De Nick, Madame
   Kath. De Nick, e le menton
   Alice. De Chin
   Kath. De Sin: le col de Nick, le menton de Sin
   Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur en verite vous pronouncies
les mots ausi droict, que le Natifs d' Angleterre
   Kath. Ie ne doute point d' apprendre par de grace de Dieu,
& en peu de temps
   Alice. N' aue vos y desia oublie ce que ie vous a ensignie
   Kath. Nome ie recitera a vous promptement, d' Hand, de
Fingre, de Maylees
   Alice. De Nayles, Madame
   Kath. De Nayles, de Arme, de Ilbow
   Alice. Sans vostre honeus d' Elbow
   Kath. Ainsi de ie d' Elbow, de Nick, & de Sin: coment appelle
vous les pied & de roba
   Alice. Le Foot Madame, & le Count
   Kath. Le Foot, & le Count: O Seignieur Dieu, il sont le
mots de son mauvais corruptible grosse & impudique, & non
pour le Dames de Honeur d' vser: Ie ne voudray pronouncer ce
mots deuant le Seigneurs de France, pour toute le monde, fo le
Foot & le Count, neant moys, Ie recitera vn autrefoys ma lecon
ensembe, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arme, d' Elbow, de
Nick, de Sin, de Foot, le Count
   Alice. Excellent, Madame
   Kath. C'est asses pour vne foyes, alons nous a diner.
Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the Constable of France,
  King. 'Tis certaine he hath past the Riuer Some
   Const. And if he be not fought withall, my Lord,
Let vs not liue in France: let vs quit all,
And giue our Vineyards to a barbarous People
   Dolph. O Dieu viuant: Shall a few Sprayes of vs,
The emptying of our Fathers Luxurie,
Our Syens, put in wilde and sauage Stock,
Spirt vp so suddenly into the Clouds,
And ouer-looke their Grafters?
  Brit. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards:
Mort du ma vie, if they march along
Vnfought withall, but I will sell my Dukedome,
To buy a slobbry and a durtie Farme
In that nooke-shotten Ile of Albion
   Const. Dieu de Battailes, where haue they this mettell?
Is not their Clymate foggy, raw, and dull?
On whom, as in despight, the Sunne lookes pale,
Killing their Fruit with frownes. Can sodden Water,
A Drench for sur-reyn'd Iades, their Barly broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with Wine,
Seeme frostie? O, for honor of our Land,
Let vs not hang like roping Isyckles
Vpon our Houses Thatch, whiles a more frostie People
Sweat drops of gallant Youth in our rich fields:
Poore we call them, in their Natiue Lords
   Dolphin. By Faith and Honor,
Our Madames mock at vs, and plainely say,
Our Mettell is bred out, and they will giue
Their bodyes to the Lust of English Youth,
To new-store France with Bastard Warriors
   Brit. They bid vs to the English Dancing-Schooles,
And teach Lauolta's high, and swift Carranto's,
Saying, our Grace is onely in our Heeles,
And that we are most loftie Run-awayes
   King. Where is Montioy the Herald? speed him hence,
Let him greet England with our sharpe defiance.
Vp Princes, and with spirit of Honor edged,
More sharper then your Swords, high to the field:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France,
You Dukes of Orleance, Burbon, and of Berry,
Alanson, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonie,
Iaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont,
Beumont, Grand Pree, Roussi, and Faulconbridge,
Loys, Lestrale, Bouciquall, and Charaloyes,
High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords, and Kings;
For your great Seats, now quit you of great shames:
Barre Harry England, that sweepes through our Land
With Penons painted in the blood of Harflew:
Rush on his Hoast, as doth the melted Snow
Vpon the Valleyes, whose low Vassall Seat,
The Alpes doth spit, and void his rhewme vpon.
Goe downe vpon him, you haue Power enough,
And in a Captiue Chariot, into Roan
Bring him our Prisoner
   Const. This becomes the Great.
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
His Souldiers sick, and famisht in their March:
For I am sure, when he shall see our Army,
Hee'le drop his heart into the sinck of feare,
And for atchieuement, offer vs his Ransome
   King. Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy,
And let him say to England, that we send,
To know what willing Ransome he will giue.
Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with vs in Roan
   Dolph. Not so, I doe beseech your Maiestie
   King. Be patient, for you shall remaine with vs.
Now forth Lord Constable, and Princes all,
And quickly bring vs word of Englands fall.
Enter Captaines, English and Welch, Gower and Fluellen.
  Gower. How now Captaine Fluellen, come you from
  Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent Seruices committed
at the Bridge
   Gower. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
  Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon,
and a man that I loue and honour with my soule,
and my heart, and my dutie, and my liue, and my liuing,
and my vttermost power. He is not, God be praysed and
blessed, any hurt in the World, but keepes the Bridge
most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient
Lieutenant there at the Pridge, I thinke in my very
conscience hee is as valiant a man as Marke Anthony, and
hee is a man of no estimation in the World, but I did see
him doe as gallant seruice
   Gower. What doe you call him?
  Flu. Hee is call'd aunchient Pistoll
   Gower. I know him not.
Enter Pistoll.
  Flu. Here is the man
   Pist. Captaine, I thee beseech to doe me fauours: the
Duke of Exeter doth loue thee well
   Flu. I, I prayse God, and I haue merited some loue at
   Pist. Bardolph, a Souldier firme and sound of heart,
and of buxome valour, hath by cruell Fate, and giddie
Fortunes furious fickle Wheele, that Goddesse blind, that
stands vpon the rolling restlesse Stone
   Flu. By your patience, aunchient Pistoll: Fortune is
painted blinde, with a Muffler afore his eyes, to signifie
to you, that Fortune is blinde; and shee is painted also
with a Wheele, to signifie to you, which is the Morall of
it, that shee is turning and inconstant, and mutabilitie,
and variation: and her foot, looke you, is fixed vpon a
Sphericall Stone, which rowles, and rowles, and rowles:
in good truth, the Poet makes a most excellent description
of it: Fortune is an excellent Morall
   Pist. Fortune is Bardolphs foe, and frownes on him:
for he hath stolne a Pax, and hanged must a be: a damned
death: let Gallowes gape for Dogge, let Man goe free,
and let not Hempe his Wind-pipe suffocate: but Exeter
hath giuen the doome of death, for Pax of little price.
Therefore goe speake, the Duke will heare thy voyce;
and let not Bardolphs vitall thred bee cut with edge of
Penny-Cord, and vile reproach. Speake Captaine for
his Life, and I will thee requite
   Flu. Aunchient Pistoll, I doe partly vnderstand your
   Pist. Why then reioyce therefore
   Flu. Certainly Aunchient, it is not a thing to reioyce
at: for if, looke you, he were my Brother, I would desire
the Duke to vse his good pleasure, and put him to execution;
for discipline ought to be vsed
   Pist. Dye, and be dam'd, and Figo for thy friendship
   Flu. It is well
   Pist. The Figge of Spaine.
  Flu. Very good
   Gower. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit Rascall, I
remember him now: a Bawd, a Cut-purse
   Flu. Ile assure you, a vtt'red as praue words at the
Pridge, as you shall see in a Summers day: but it is very
well: what he ha's spoke to me, that is well I warrant you,
when time is serue
   Gower. Why 'tis a Gull, a Foole, a Rogue, that now and
then goes to the Warres, to grace himselfe at his returne
into London, vnder the forme of a Souldier: and such
fellowes are perfit in the Great Commanders Names, and
they will learne you by rote where Seruices were done;
at such and such a Sconce, at such a Breach, at such a Conuoy:
who came off brauely, who was shot, who disgrac'd,
what termes the Enemy stood on: and this they
conne perfitly in the phrase of Warre; which they tricke
vp with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Generalls
Cut, and a horride Sute of the Campe, will doe among
foming Bottles, and Ale-washt Wits, is wonderfull
to be thought on: but you must learne to know such
slanders of the age, or else you may be maruellously mistooke
   Flu. I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceiue
hee is not the man that hee would gladly make shew to
the World hee is: if I finde a hole in his Coat, I will tell
him my minde: hearke you, the King is comming, and I
must speake with him from the Pridge.
Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poore Souldiers.
  Flu. God plesse your Maiestie
   King. How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge?
  Flu. I, so please your Maiestie: The Duke of Exeter
ha's very gallantly maintain'd the Pridge; the French is
gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and most praue
passages: marry, th' athuersarie was haue possession of
the Pridge, but he is enforced to retyre, and the Duke of
Exeter is Master of the Pridge: I can tell your Maiestie,
the Duke is a praue man
   King. What men haue you lost, Fluellen?
  Flu. The perdition of th' athuersarie hath beene very
great, reasonnable great: marry for my part, I thinke the
Duke hath lost neuer a man, but one that is like to be executed
for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Maiestie
know the man: his face is all bubukles and whelkes,
and knobs, and flames a fire, and his lippes blowes at his
nose, and it is like a coale of fire, sometimes plew, and
sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's
   King. Wee would haue all such offendors so cut off:
and we giue expresse charge, that in our Marches through
the Countrey, there be nothing compell'd from the Villages;
nothing taken, but pay'd for: none of the French
vpbrayded or abused in disdainefull Language; for when
Leuitie and Crueltie play for a Kingdome, the gentler
Gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket. Enter Mountioy.
  Mountioy. You know me by my habit
   King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of
  Mountioy. My Masters mind
   King. Vnfold it
   Mountioy. Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry
of England, Though we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe:
Aduantage is a better Souldier then rashnesse. Tell him,
wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that wee
thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full
ripe. Now wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is imperiall:
England shall repent his folly, see his weakenesse,
and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider
of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we
haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we
haue digested; which in weight to re-answer, his pettinesse
would bow vnder. For our losses, his Exchequer is
too poore; for th' effusion of our bloud, the Muster of his
Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his
owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worthlesse
satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for
conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation
is pronounc't: So farre my King and Master;
so much my Office
   King. What is thy name? I know thy qualitie
   Mount. Mountioy
   King. Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee backe,
And tell thy King, I doe not seeke him now,
But could be willing to march on to Callice,
Without impeachment: for to say the sooth,
Though 'tis no wisdome to confesse so much
Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage,
My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled,
My numbers lessen'd: and those few I haue,
Almost no better then so many French;
Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald,
I thought, vpon one payre of English Legges
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgiue me God,
That I doe bragge thus; this your ayre of France
Hath blowne that vice in me. I must repent:
Goe therefore tell thy Master, heere I am;
My Ransome, is this frayle and worthlesse Trunke;
My Army, but a weake and sickly Guard:
Yet God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himselfe, and such another Neighbor
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountioy.
Goe bid thy Master well aduise himselfe.
If we may passe, we will: if we be hindred,
We shall your tawnie ground with your red blood
Discolour: and so Mountioy, fare you well.
The summe of all our Answer is but this:
We would not seeke a Battaile as we are,
Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it:
So tell your Master
   Mount. I shall deliuer so: Thankes to your Highnesse
   Glouc. I hope they will not come vpon vs now
   King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs:
March to the Bridge, it now drawes toward night,
Beyond the Riuer wee'le encampe our selues,
And on to morrow bid them march away.
Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs, Orleance,
Dolphin, with
  Const. Tut, I haue the best Armour of the World:
would it were day
   Orleance. You haue an excellent Armour: but let my
Horse haue his due
   Const. It is the best Horse of Europe
   Orleance. Will it neuer be Morning?
  Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Constable,
you talke of Horse and Armour?
  Orleance. You are as well prouided of both, as any
Prince in the World
   Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change
my Horse with any that treades but on foure postures:
ch' ha: he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrayles were
hayres: le Cheual volante, the Pegasus, ches les narines de
feu. When I bestryde him, I soare, I am a Hawke: he trots
the ayre: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest
horne of his hoofe, is more Musicall then the Pipe of
   Orleance. Hee's of the colour of the Nutmeg
   Dolph. And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beast
for Perseus: hee is pure Ayre and Fire; and the dull Elements
of Earth and Water neuer appeare in him, but only
in patient stillnesse while his Rider mounts him: hee
is indeede a Horse, and all other Iades you may call
   Const. Indeed my Lord, it is a most absolute and excellent
   Dolph. It is the Prince of Palfrayes, his Neigh is like
the bidding of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces
   Orleance. No more Cousin
   Dolph. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from
the rising of the Larke to the lodging of the Lambe,
varie deserued prayse on my Palfray: it is a Theame as
fluent as the Sea: Turne the Sands into eloquent tongues,
and my Horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subiect
for a Soueraigne to reason on, and for a Soueraignes Soueraigne
to ride on: And for the World, familiar to vs,
and vnknowne, to lay apart their particular Functions,
and wonder at him, I once writ a Sonnet in his prayse,
and began thus, Wonder of Nature
   Orleance. I haue heard a Sonnet begin so to ones Mistresse
   Dolph. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd
to my Courser, for my Horse is my Mistresse
   Orleance. Your Mistresse beares well
   Dolph. Me well, which is the prescript prayse and perfection
of a good and particular Mistresse
   Const. Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistresse
shrewdly shooke your back
   Dolph. So perhaps did yours
   Const. Mine was not bridled
   Dolph. O then belike she was old and gentle, and you
rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your French Hose off, and in
your strait Strossers
   Const. You haue good iudgement in Horsemanship
   Dolph. Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and
ride not warily, fall into foule Boggs: I had rather haue
my Horse to my Mistresse
   Const. I had as liue haue my Mistresse a Iade
   Dolph. I tell thee Constable, my Mistresse weares his
   Const. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a
Sow to my Mistresse
   Dolph. Le chien est retourne a son propre vemissement est
la leuye lauee au bourbier: thou mak'st vse of any thing
   Const. Yet doe I not vse my Horse for my Mistresse,
or any such Prouerbe, so little kin to the purpose
   Ramb. My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw in
your Tent to night, are those Starres or Sunnes vpon it?
  Const. Starres my Lord
   Dolph. Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope
   Const. And yet my Sky shall not want
   Dolph. That may be, for you beare a many superfluously,
and 'twere more honor some were away
   Const. Eu'n as your Horse beares your prayses, who
would trot as well, were some of your bragges dismounted
   Dolph. Would I were able to loade him with his desert.
Will it neuer be day? I will trot to morrow a mile,
and my way shall be paued with English Faces
   Const. I will not say so, for feare I should be fac't out
of my way: but I would it were morning, for I would
faine be about the eares of the English
   Ramb. Who will goe to Hazard with me for twentie
  Const. You must first goe your selfe to hazard, ere you
   Dolph. 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my selfe.
  Orleance. The Dolphin longs for morning
   Ramb. He longs to eate the English
   Const. I thinke he will eate all he kills
   Orleance. By the white Hand of my Lady, hee's a gallant
   Const. Sweare by her Foot, that she may tread out the
   Orleance. He is simply the most actiue Gentleman of
   Const. Doing is actiuitie, and he will still be doing
   Orleance. He neuer did harme, that I heard of
   Const. Nor will doe none to morrow: hee will keepe
that good name still
   Orleance. I know him to be valiant
   Const. I was told that, by one that knowes him better
   Orleance. What's hee?
  Const. Marry hee told me so himselfe, and hee sayd hee
car'd not who knew it
   Orleance. Hee needes not, it is no hidden vertue in
   Const. By my faith Sir, but it is: neuer any body saw
it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it
appeares, it will bate
   Orleance. Ill will neuer sayd well
   Const. I will cap that Prouerbe with, There is flatterie
in friendship
   Orleance. And I will take vp that with, Giue the Deuill
   Const. Well plac't: there stands your friend for the
Deuill: haue at the very eye of that Prouerbe with, A
Pox of the Deuill
   Orleance. You are the better at Prouerbs, by how much
a Fooles Bolt is soone shot
   Const. You haue shot ouer
   Orleance. 'Tis not the first time you were ouer-shot.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mess. My Lord high Constable, the English lye within
fifteene hundred paces of your Tents
   Const. Who hath measur'd the ground?
  Mess. The Lord Grandpree
   Const. A valiant and most expert Gentleman. Would
it were day? Alas poore Harry of England: hee longs
not for the Dawning, as wee doe
   Orleance. What a wretched and peeuish fellow is this
King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers
so farre out of his knowledge
   Const. If the English had any apprehension, they
would runne away
   Orleance. That they lack: for if their heads had any intellectuall
Armour, they could neuer weare such heauie
   Ramb. That Iland of England breedes very valiant
Creatures; their Mastiffes are of vnmatchable courage
   Orleance. Foolish Curres, that runne winking into
the mouth of a Russian Beare, and haue their heads crusht
like rotten Apples: you may as well say, that's a valiant
Flea, that dare eate his breakefast on the Lippe of a
   Const. Iust, iust: and the men doe sympathize with
the Mastiffes, in robustious and rough comming on,
leauing their Wits with their Wiues: and then giue
them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they
will eate like Wolues, and fight like Deuils
   Orleance. I, but these English are shrowdly out of
   Const. Then shall we finde to morrow, they haue only
stomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to
arme: come, shall we about it?
  Orleance. It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten
Wee shall haue each a hundred English men.
Actus Tertius.
Now entertaine coniecture of a time,
When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke
Fills the wide Vessell of the Vniuerse.
From Camp to Camp, through the foule Womb of Night
The Humme of eyther Army stilly sounds;
That the fixt Centinels almost receiue
The secret Whispers of each others Watch.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each Battaile sees the others vmber'd face.
Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull Neighs
Piercing the Nights dull Eare: and from the Tents,
The Armourers accomplishing the Knights,
With busie Hammers closing Riuets vp,
Giue dreadfull note of preparation.
The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe towle:
And the third howre of drowsie Morning nam'd,
Prowd of their Numbers, and secure in Soule,
The confident and ouer-lustie French,
Doe the low-rated English play at Dice;
And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night,
Who like a foule and ougly Witch doth limpe
So tediously away. The poore condemned English,
Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate
The Mornings danger: and their gesture sad,
Inuesting lanke-leane Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats,
Presented them vnto the gazing Moone
So many horride Ghosts. O now, who will behold
The Royall Captaine of this ruin'd Band
Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent;
Let him cry, Prayse and Glory on his head:
For forth he goes, and visits all his Hoast,
Bids them good morrow with a modest Smyle,
And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countreymen.
Vpon his Royall Face there is no note,
How dread an Army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour
Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night:
But freshly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint,
With chearefull semblance, and sweet Maiestie:
That euery Wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes.
A Largesse vniuersall, like the Sunne,
His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one,
Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all
Behold, as may vnworthinesse define.
A little touch of Harry in the Night,
And so our Scene must to the Battaile flye:
Where, O for pitty, we shall much disgrace,
With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles,
(Right ill dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous)
The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and see,
Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee.
Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.
  King. Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger,
The greater therefore should our Courage be.
God morrow Brother Bedford: God Almightie,
There is some soule of goodnesse in things euill,
Would men obseruingly distill it out.
For our bad Neighbour makes vs early stirrers,
Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry.
Besides, they are our outward Consciences,
And Preachers to vs all; admonishing,
That we should dresse vs fairely for our end.
Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed,
And make a Morall of the Diuell himselfe.
Enter Erpingham.
Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good soft Pillow for that good white Head,
Were better then a churlish turfe of France
   Erping. Not so my Liege, this Lodging likes me better,
Since I may say, now lye I like a King
   King. 'Tis good for men to loue their present paines,
Vpon example, so the Spirit is eased:
And when the Mind is quickned, out of doubt
The Organs, though defunct and dead before,
Breake vp their drowsie Graue, and newly moue
With casted slough, and fresh legeritie.
Lend me thy Cloake Sir Thomas: Brothers both,
Commend me to the Princes in our Campe;
Doe my good morrow to them, and anon
Desire them all to my Pauillion
   Gloster. We shall, my Liege
   Erping. Shall I attend your Grace?
  King. No, my good Knight:
Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England:
I and my Bosome must debate a while,
And then I would no other company
   Erping. The Lord in Heauen blesse thee, Noble
  King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearefully.
Enter Pistoll
   Pist. Che vous la?
  King. A friend
   Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou
base, common, and popular?
  King. I am a Gentleman of a Company
   Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke?
  King. Euen so: what are you?
  Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor
   King. Then you are a better then the King
   Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a
Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist
most valiant: I kisse his durtie shooe, and from heartstring
I loue the louely Bully. What is thy Name?
  King. Harry le Roy
   Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew?
  King. No, I am a Welchman
   Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen?
   Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate vpon
S[aint]. Dauies day
   King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe
that day, least he knock that about yours
   Pist. Art thou his friend?
  King. And his Kinsman too
   Pist. The Figo for thee then
   King. I thanke you: God be with you
   Pist. My name is Pistol call'd.
  King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
  Gower. Captaine Fluellen
   Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it
is the greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when
the true and aunchient Prerogatifes and Lawes of the
Warres is not kept: if you would take the paines but to
examine the Warres of Pompey the Great, you shall finde,
I warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor pibble bable
in Pompeyes Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde
the Ceremonies of the Warres, and the Cares of it, and
the Formes of it, and the Sobrietie of it, and the Modestie
of it, to be otherwise
   Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all
   Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a prating
Coxcombe; is it meet, thinke you, that wee should
also, looke you, be an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe,
in your owne conscience now?
  Gow. I will speake lower
   Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.
  King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion,
There is much care and valour in this Welchman.
Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael
  Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning
which breakes yonder?
  Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause to
desire the approach of day
   Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day,
but I thinke wee shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes
  King. A Friend
   Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you?
  King. Vnder Sir Iohn Erpingham
   Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde
Gentleman: I pray you, what thinkes he of our estate?
  King. Euen as men wrackt vpon a Sand, that looke to
be washt off the next Tyde
   Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King?
  King. No: nor it is not meet he should: for though I
speake it to you, I thinke the King is but a man, as I am:
the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the Element
shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but
humane Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse
he appeares but a man; and though his affections
are higher mounted then ours, yet when they stoupe,
they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees
reason of feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of
the same rellish as ours are: yet in reason, no man should
possesse him with any appearance of feare; least hee, by
shewing it, should dis-hearten his Army
   Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will:
but I beleeue, as cold a Night as 'tis, hee could wish himselfe
in Thames vp to the Neck; and so I would he were,
and I by him, at all aduentures, so we were quit here
   King. By my troth, I will speake my conscience of the
King: I thinke hee would not wish himselfe any where,
but where hee is
   Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be
sure to be ransomed, and a many poore mens liues saued
   King. I dare say, you loue him not so ill, to wish him
here alone: howsoeuer you speake this to feele other
mens minds, me thinks I could not dye any where so contented,
as in the Kings company; his Cause being iust, and
his Quarrell honorable
   Williams. That's more then we know
   Bates. I, or more then wee should seeke after; for wee
know enough, if wee know wee are the Kings Subiects:
if his Cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes
the Cryme of it out of vs
   Williams. But if the Cause be not good, the King himselfe
hath a heauie Reckoning to make, when all those
Legges, and Armes, and Heads, chopt off in a Battaile,
shall ioyne together at the latter day, and cry all, Wee dyed
at such a place, some swearing, some crying for a Surgean;
some vpon their Wiues, left poore behind them;
some vpon the Debts they owe, some vpon their Children
rawly left: I am afear'd, there are few dye well, that dye
in a Battaile: for how can they charitably dispose of any
thing, when Blood is their argument? Now, if these men
doe not dye well, it will be a black matter for the King,
that led them to it; who to disobey, were against all proportion
of subiection
   King. So, if a Sonne that is by his Father sent about
Merchandize, doe sinfully miscarry vpon the Sea; the imputation
of his wickednesse, by your rule, should be imposed
vpon his Father that sent him: or if a Seruant, vnder
his Masters command, transporting a summe of Money,
be assayled by Robbers, and dye in many irreconcil'd
Iniquities; you may call the businesse of the Master the
author of the Seruants damnation: but this is not so:
The King is not bound to answer the particular endings
of his Souldiers, the Father of his Sonne, nor the Master
of his Seruant; for they purpose not their death, when
they purpose their seruices. Besides, there is no King, be
his Cause neuer so spotlesse, if it come to the arbitrement
of Swords, can trye it out with all vnspotted Souldiers:
some (peraduenture) haue on them the guilt of
premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling
Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie; some,
making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored
the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie.
Now, if these men haue defeated the Law, and outrunne
Natiue punishment; though they can out-strip
men, they haue no wings to flye from God. Warre is
his Beadle, Warre is his Vengeance: so that here men
are punisht, for before breach of the Kings Lawes, in
now the Kings Quarrell: where they feared the death,
they haue borne life away; and where they would bee
safe, they perish. Then if they dye vnprouided, no more
is the King guiltie of their damnation, then hee was before
guiltie of those Impieties, for the which they are
now visited. Euery Subiects Dutie is the Kings, but
euery Subiects Soule is his owne. Therefore should
euery Souldier in the Warres doe as euery sicke man in
his Bed, wash euery Moth out of his Conscience: and
dying so, Death is to him aduantage; or not dying,
the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was
gayned: and in him that escapes, it were not sinne to
thinke, that making God so free an offer, he let him outliue
that day, to see his Greatnesse, and to teach others
how they should prepare
   Will. 'Tis certaine, euery man that dyes ill, the ill vpon
his owne head, the King is not to answer it
   Bates. I doe not desire hee should answer for me, and
yet I determine to fight lustily for him
   King. I my selfe heard the King say he would not be
   Will. I, hee said so, to make vs fight chearefully: but
when our throats are cut, hee may be ransom'd, and wee
ne're the wiser
   King. If I liue to see it, I will neuer trust his word after
   Will. You pay him then: that's a perillous shot out
of an Elder Gunne, that a poore and a priuate displeasure
can doe against a Monarch: you may as well goe about
to turne the Sunne to yce, with fanning in his face with a
Peacocks feather: You'le neuer trust his word after;
come, 'tis a foolish saying
   King. Your reproofe is something too round, I should
be angry with you, if the time were conuenient
   Will. Let it bee a Quarrell betweene vs, if you
   King. I embrace it
   Will. How shall I know thee againe?
  King. Giue me any Gage of thine, and I will weare it
in my Bonnet: Then if euer thou dar'st acknowledge it,
I will make it my Quarrell
   Will. Heere's my Gloue: Giue mee another of
   King. There
   Will. This will I also weare in my Cap: if euer thou
come to me, and say, after to morrow, This is my Gloue,
by this Hand I will take thee a box on the eare
   King. If euer I liue to see it, I will challenge it
   Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd
   King. Well, I will doe it, though I take thee in the
Kings companie
   Will. Keepe thy word: fare thee well
   Bates. Be friends you English fooles, be friends, wee
haue French Quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.
Exit Souldiers.
  King. Indeede the French may lay twentie French
Crownes to one, they will beat vs, for they beare them
on their shoulders: but it is no English Treason to cut
French Crownes, and to morrow the King himselfe will
be a Clipper.
Vpon the King, let vs our Liues, our Soules,
Our Debts, our carefull Wiues,
Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the King:
We must beare all.
O hard Condition, Twin-borne with Greatnesse,
Subiect to the breath of euery foole, whose sence
No more can feele, but his owne wringing.
What infinite hearts-ease must Kings neglect,
That priuate men enioy?
And what haue Kings, that Priuates haue not too,
Saue Ceremonie, saue generall Ceremonie?
And what art thou, thou Idoll Ceremonie?
What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more
Of mortall griefes, then doe thy worshippers.
What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings in?
O Ceremonie, shew me but thy worth.
What? is thy Soule of Odoration?
Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Forme,
Creating awe and feare in other men?
Wherein thou art lesse happy, being fear'd,
Then they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet,
But poyson'd flatterie? O, be sick, great Greatnesse,
And bid thy Ceremonie giue thee cure.
Thinks thou the fierie Feuer will goe out
With Titles blowne from Adulation?
Will it giue place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggers knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou prowd Dreame,
That play'st so subtilly with a Kings Repose.
I am a King that find thee: and I know,
'Tis not the Balme, the Scepter, and the Ball,
The Sword, the Mase, the Crowne Imperiall,
The enter-tissued Robe of Gold and Pearle,
The farsed Title running 'fore the King,
The Throne he sits on: nor the Tyde of Pompe,
That beates vpon the high shore of this World:
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonie;
Not all these, lay'd in Bed Maiesticall,
Can sleepe so soundly, as the wretched Slaue:
Who with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressefull bread,
Neuer sees horride Night, the Child of Hell:
But like a Lacquey, from the Rise to Set,
Sweates in the eye of Phebus; and all Night
Sleepes in Elizium: next day after dawne,
Doth rise and helpe Hiperio[n] to his Horse,
And followes so the euer-running yeere
With profitable labour to his Graue:
And but for Ceremonie, such a Wretch,
Winding vp Dayes with toyle, and Nights with sleepe,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a King.
The Slaue, a Member of the Countreyes peace,
Enioyes it; but in grosse braine little wots,
What watch the King keepes, to maintaine the peace;
Whose howres, the Pesant best aduantages.
Enter Erpingham.
  Erp. My Lord, your Nobles iealous of your absence,
Seeke through your Campe to find you
   King. Good old Knight, collect them all together
At my Tent: Ile be before thee
   Erp. I shall doo't, my Lord.
  King. O God of Battailes, steele my Souldiers hearts,
Possesse them not with feare: Take from them now
The sence of reckning of th' opposed numbers:
Pluck their hearts from them. Not to day, O Lord,
O not to day, thinke not vpon the fault
My Father made, in compassing the Crowne.
I Richards body haue interred new,
And on it haue bestowed more contrite teares,
Then from it issued forced drops of blood.
Fiue hundred poore I haue in yeerely pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold vp
Toward Heauen, to pardon blood:
And I haue built two Chauntries,
Where the sad and solemne Priests sing still
For Richards Soule. More will I doe:
Though all that I can doe, is nothing worth;
Since that my Penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloucester.
  Glouc. My Liege
   King. My Brother Gloucesters voyce? I:
I know thy errand, I will goe with thee:
The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.
Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs, and Beaumont.
  Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my
   Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay:
   Orleance. Oh braue Spirit
   Dolph. Via les ewes & terre
   Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu
   Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance.
Enter Constable.
Now my Lord Constable?
  Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present Seruice
   Dolph. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And doubt them with superfluous courage: ha
   Ram. What, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood?
How shall we then behold their naturall teares?
Enter Messenger.
  Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French
   Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse.
Doe but behold yond poore and starued Band,
And your faire shew shall suck away their Soules,
Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men.
There is not worke enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly Veines,
To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne,
That our French Gallants shall to day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport. Let vs but blow on them,
The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them.
'Tis positiue against all exceptions, Lords,
That our superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants,
Who in vnnecessarie action swarme
About our Squares of Battaile, were enow
To purge this field of such a hilding Foe;
Though we vpon this Mountaines Basis by,
Tooke stand for idle speculation:
But that our Honours must not. What's to say?
A very little little let vs doe,
And all is done: then let the Trumpets sound
The Tucket Sonuance, and the Note to mount:
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch downe in feare, and yeeld.
Enter Graundpree.
  Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France?
Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-fauoredly become the Morning field:
Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose,
And our Ayre shakes them passing scornefully.
Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd Hoast,
And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes.
The Horsemen sit like fixed Candlesticks,
With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore Iades
Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides and hips:
The gumme downe roping from their pale-dead eyes,
And in their pale dull mouthes the Iymold Bitt
Lyes foule with chaw'd-grasse, still and motionlesse.
And their executors, the knauish Crowes,
Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre.
Description cannot sute it selfe in words,
To demonstrate the Life of such a Battaile,
In life so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe
   Const. They haue said their prayers,
And they stay for death
   Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes,
And giue their fasting Horses Prouender,
And after fight with them?
  Const. I stay but for my Guard: on
To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take,
And vse it for my haste. Come, come away,
The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.
Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Hoast:
Salisbury, and Westmerland.
  Glouc. Where is the King?
  Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Battaile
   West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand
   Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh
   Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes.
God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge:
If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen;
Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,
My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu
   Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee:
And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour
   Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day
   Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse,
Princely in both.
Enter the King.
  West. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England,
That doe no worke to day
   King. What's he that wishes so?
My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin:
If we are markt to dye, we are enow
To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold,
Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost:
It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sinne to couet Honor,
I am the most offending Soule aliue.
No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England:
Gods peace, I would not loose so great an Honor,
As one man more me thinkes would share from me,
For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more:
Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast,
That he which hath no stomack to this fight,
Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made,
And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse:
We would not dye in that mans companie,
That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs.
This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian:
He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rowse him at the Name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and liue old age,
Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian.
Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres:
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot:
But hee'le remember, with aduantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing Cups freshly remembred.
This story shall the good man teach his sonne:
And Crispine Crispian shall ne're goe by,
From this day to the ending of the World,
But we in it shall be remembred;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he to day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother: be he ne're so vile,
This day shall gentle his Condition.
And Gentlemen in England, now a bed,
Shall thinke themselues accurst they were not here;
And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes,
That fought with vs vpon Saint Crispines day.
Enter Salisbury.
  Sal. My Soueraign Lord, bestow your selfe with speed:
The French are brauely in their battailes set,
And will with all expedience charge on vs
   King. All things are ready, if our minds be so
   West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now
   King. Thou do'st not wish more helpe from England,
  West. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone,
Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaile
   King. Why now thou hast vnwisht fiue thousand men:
Which likes me better, then to wish vs one.
You know your places: God be with you all.
Tucket. Enter Montioy.
  Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry,
If for thy Ransome thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured Ouerthrow:
For certainly, thou art so neere the Gulfe,
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy
The Constable desires thee, thou wilt mind
Thy followers of Repentance; that their Soules
May make a peacefull and a sweet retyre
From off these fields: where (wretches) their poore bodies
Must lye and fester
   King. Who hath sent thee now?
  Mont. The Constable of France
   King. I pray thee beare my former Answer back:
Bid them atchieue me, and then sell my bones.
Good God, why should they mock poore fellowes thus?
The man that once did sell the Lyons skin
While the beast liu'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
A many of our bodyes shall no doubt
Find Natiue Graues: vpon the which, I trust
Shall witnesse liue in Brasse of this dayes worke.
And those that leaue their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buryed in your Dunghills,
They shall be fam'd: for there the Sun shall greet them,
And draw their honors reeking vp to Heauen,
Leauing their earthly parts to choake your Clyme,
The smell whereof shall breed a Plague in France.
Marke then abounding valour in our English:
That being dead, like to the bullets crasing,
Breake out into a second course of mischiefe,
Killing in relapse of Mortalitie.
Let me speake prowdly: Tell the Constable,
We are but Warriors for the working day:
Our Gaynesse and our Gilt are all besmyrcht
With raynie Marching in the painefull field.
There's not a piece of feather in our Hoast:
Good argument (I hope) we will not flye:
And time hath worne vs into slouenrie.
But by the Masse, our hearts are in the trim:
And my poore Souldiers tell me, yet ere Night,
They'le be in fresher Robes, or they will pluck
The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads,
And turne them out of seruice. If they doe this,
As if God please, they shall; my Ransome then
Will soone be leuyed.
Herauld, saue thou thy labour:
Come thou no more for Ransome, gentle Herauld,
They shall haue none, I sweare, but these my ioynts:
Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm them,
Shall yeeld them little, tell the Constable
   Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Thou neuer shalt heare Herauld any more.
  King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a
Enter Yorke.
  Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge
The leading of the Vaward
   King. Take it, braue Yorke.
Now Souldiers march away,
And how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistoll, French Souldier, Boy.
  Pist. Yeeld Curre
   French. Ie pense que vous estes le Gentilhome de bon qualitee
   Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a Gentleman?
What is thy Name? discusse
   French. O Seigneur Dieu
   Pist. O Signieur Dewe should be a Gentleman: perpend
my words O Signieur Dewe, and marke: O Signieur
Dewe, thou dyest on point of Fox, except O Signieur
thou doe giue to me egregious Ransome
   French. O prennes miserecordie aye pitez de moy
   Pist. Moy shall not serue, I will haue fortie Moyes: for
I will fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in droppes of
Crimson blood
   French. Est il impossible d' eschapper le force de ton bras
   Pist. Brasse, Curre? thou damned and luxurious Mountaine
Goat, offer'st me Brasse?
  French. O perdonne moy
   Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a Tonne of Moyes?
Come hither boy, aske me this slaue in French what is his
   Boy. Escoute comment estes vous appelle?
  French. Mounsieur le Fer
   Boy. He sayes his Name is M. Fer
   Pist. M. Fer: Ile fer him, and firke him, and ferret him:
discusse the same in French vnto him
   Boy. I doe not know the French for fer, and ferret, and
   Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat
   French. Que dit il Mounsieur?
  Boy. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faite vous
prest, car ce soldat icy est disposee tout asture de couppes vostre
   Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge permafoy pesant, vnlesse
thou giue me Crownes, braue Crownes; or mangled shalt
thou be by this my Sword
   French. O Ie vous supplie pour l' amour de Dieu: ma pardonner,
Ie suis le Gentilhome de bon maison, garde ma vie, & Ie
vous donneray deux cent escus
   Pist. What are his words?
  Boy. He prayes you to saue his life, he is a Gentleman
of a good house, and for his ransom he will giue you two
hundred Crownes
   Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the Crownes
   Fren. Petit Monsieur que dit il?
  Boy. Encore qu'il et contra son Iurement, de pardonner aucune
prisonner: neantmons pour les escues que vous layt a promets,
il est content a vous donnes le liberte le franchisement
   Fre. Sur mes genoux se vous donnes milles remercious, et
Ie me estime heurex que Ie intombe, entre les main d' vn Cheualier
Ie pense le plus braue valiant et tres distime signieur
d' Angleterre
   Pist. Expound vnto me boy
   Boy. He giues you vpon his knees a thousand thanks,
and he esteemes himselfe happy, that he hath falne into
the hands of one (as he thinkes) the most braue, valorous
and thrice-worthy signeur of England
   Pist. As I sucke blood, I will some mercy shew. Follow
   Boy. Saaue vous le grand Capitaine?
I did neuer know so full a voyce issue from so emptie a
heart: but the saying is true, The empty vessel makes the
greatest sound, Bardolfe and Nym had tenne times more
valour, then this roaring diuell i'th olde play, that euerie
one may payre his nayles with a woodden dagger, and
they are both hang'd, and so would this be, if hee durst
steale any thing aduenturously. I must stay with the
Lackies with the luggage of our camp, the French might
haue a good pray of vs, if he knew of it, for there is none
to guard it but boyes.
Enter Constable, Orleance, Burbon, Dolphin, and Rambures.
  Con. O Diable
   Orl. O signeur le iour et perdia, toute et perdie
   Dol. Mor Dieu ma vie, all is confounded all,
Reproach, and euerlasting shame
Sits mocking in our Plumes.
A short Alarum.
O meschante Fortune, do not runne away
   Con. Why all our rankes are broke
   Dol. O perdurable shame, let's stab our selues:
Be these the wretches that we plaid at dice for?
  Orl. Is this the King we sent too, for his ransome?
  Bur. Shame, and eternall shame, nothing but shame,
Let vs dye in once more backe againe,
And he that will not follow Burbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand
Like a base Pander hold the Chamber doore,
Whilst a base slaue, no gentler then my dogge,
His fairest daughter is contaminated
   Con. Disorder that hath spoyl'd vs, friend vs now,
Let vs on heapes go offer vp our liues
   Orl. We are enow yet liuing in the Field,
To smother vp the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought vpon
   Bur. The diuell take Order now, Ile to the throng;
Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
Alarum. Enter the King and his trayne, with Prisoners.
  King. Well haue we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen,
But all's not done, yet keepe the French the field
   Exe. The D[uke]. of York commends him to your Maiesty
  King. Liues he good Vnckle: thrice within this houre
I saw him downe; thrice vp againe, and fighting,
From Helmet to the spurre, all blood he was
   Exe. In which array (braue Soldier) doth he lye,
Larding the plaine: and by his bloody side,
(Yoake-fellow to his honour-owing-wounds)
The Noble Earle of Suffolke also lyes.
Suffolke first dyed, and Yorke all hagled ouer
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped,
And takes him by the Beard, kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawne vpon his face.
He cryes aloud; Tarry my Cosin Suffolke,
My soule shall thine keepe company to heauen:
Tarry (sweet soule) for mine, then flye a-brest:
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our Chiualrie.
Vpon these words I came, and cheer'd him vp,
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And with a feeble gripe, sayes: Deere my Lord,
Commend my seruice to my Soueraigne,
So did he turne, and ouer Suffolkes necke
He threw his wounded arme, and kist his lippes,
And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A Testament of Noble-ending-loue:
The prettie and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me, which I would haue stop'd,
But I had not so much of man in mee,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gaue me vp to teares
   King. I blame you not,
For hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mixtfull eyes, or they will issue to.
But hearke, what new alarum is this same?
The French haue re-enforc'd their scatter'd men:
Then euery souldiour kill his Prisoners,
Giue the word through.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
  Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expressely
against the Law of Armes, tis as arrant a peece of knauery
marke you now, as can bee offert in your Conscience
now, is it not?
  Gow. Tis certaine, there's not a boy left aliue, and the
Cowardly Rascalls that ranne from the battaile ha' done
this slaughter: besides they haue burned and carried away
all that was in the Kings Tent, wherefore the King
most worthily hath caus'd euery soldiour to cut his prisoners
throat. O 'tis a gallant King
   Flu. I, hee was porne at Monmouth Captaine Gower:
What call you the Townes name where Alexander the
pig was borne?
  Gow. Alexander the Great
   Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or
the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous,
are all one reckonings, saue the phrase is a litle variations
   Gower. I thinke Alexander the Great was borne in
Macedon, his Father was called Phillip of Macedon, as I
   Flu. I thinke it is in Macedon where Alexander is
porne: I tell you Captaine, if you looke in the Maps of
the Orld, I warrant you sall finde in the comparisons betweene
Macedon & Monmouth, that the situations looke
you, is both alike. There is a Riuer in Macedon, & there
is also moreouer a Riuer at Monmouth, it is call'd Wye at
Monmouth: but it is out of my praines, what is the name
of the other Riuer: but 'tis all one, tis alike as my fingers
is to my fingers, and there is Salmons in both. If you
marke Alexanders life well, Harry of Monmouthes life is
come after it indifferent well, for there is figures in all
things. Alexander God knowes, and you know, in his
rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his chollers, and
his moodes, and his displeasures, and his indignations,
and also being a little intoxicates in his praines, did in
his Ales and his angers (looke you) kill his best friend
   Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he neuer kill'd
any of his friends
   Flu. It is not well done (marke you now) to take the
tales out of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak
but in the figures, and comparisons of it: as Alexander
kild his friend Clytus, being in his Ales and his Cuppes; so
also Harry Monmouth being in his right wittes, and his
good iudgements, turn'd away the fat Knight with the
great belly doublet: he was full of iests, and gypes, and
knaueries, and mockes, I haue forgot his name
   Gow. Sir Iohn Falstaffe
   Flu. That is he: Ile tell you, there is good men porne
   Gow. Heere comes his Maiesty.
Alarum. Enter King Harry and Burbon with prisoners. Flourish.
  King. I was not angry since I came to France,
Vntill this instant. Take a Trumpet Herald,
Ride thou vnto the Horsemen on yond hill:
If they will fight with vs, bid them come downe,
Or voyde the field: they do offend our sight.
If they'l do neither, we will come to them,
And make them sker away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
Besides, wee'l cut the throats of those we haue,
And not a man of them that we shall take,
Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.
Enter Montioy.
  Exe. Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege
  Glou. His eyes are humbler then they vs'd to be
   King. How now, what meanes this Herald? Knowst
That I haue fin'd these bones of mine for ransome?
Com'st thou againe for ransome?
  Her. No great King:
I come to thee for charitable License,
That we may wander ore this bloody field,
To booke our dead, and then to bury them,
To sort our Nobles from our common men.
For many of our Princes (woe the while)
Lye drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood:
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbes
In blood of Princes, and with wounded steeds
Fret fet-locke deepe in gore, and with wilde rage
Yerke out their armed heeles at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O giue vs leaue great King,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
Of their dead bodies
   Kin. I tell thee truly Herald,
I know not if the day be ours or no,
For yet a many of your horsemen peere,
And gallop ore the field
   Her. The day is yours
   Kin. Praised be God, and not our strength for it:
What is this Castle call'd that stands hard by
   Her. They call it Agincourt
   King. Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus
   Flu. Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't please
your Maiesty) and your great Vncle Edward the Placke
Prince of Wales, as I haue read in the Chronicles, fought
a most praue pattle here in France
   Kin. They did Fluellen
   Flu. Your Maiesty sayes very true: If your Maiesties
is remembred of it, the Welchmen did good seruice in a
Garden where Leekes did grow, wearing Leekes in their
Monmouth caps, which your Maiesty know to this houre
is an honourable badge of the seruice: And I do beleeue
your Maiesty takes no scorne to weare the Leeke vppon
S[aint]. Tauies day
   King. I weare it for a memorable honor:
For I am Welch you know good Countriman
   Flu. All the water in Wye, cannot wash your Maiesties
Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that:
God plesse it, and preserue it, as long as it pleases his
Grace, and his Maiesty too
   Kin. Thankes good my Countrymen
   Flu. By Ieshu, I am your Maiesties Countreyman, I
care not who know it: I will confesse it to all the Orld, I
need not to be ashamed of your Maiesty, praised be God
so long as your Maiesty is an honest man
   King. Good keepe me so.
Enter Williams.
Our Heralds go with him,
Bring me iust notice of the numbers dead
On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither
   Exe. Souldier, you must come to the King
   Kin. Souldier, why wear'st thou that Gloue in thy
  Will. And't please your Maiesty, tis the gage of one
that I should fight withall, if he be aliue
   Kin. An Englishman?
  Wil. And't please your Maiesty, a Rascall that swagger'd
with me last night: who if aliue, and euer dare to
challenge this Gloue, I haue sworne to take him a boxe
a'th ere: or if I can see my Gloue in his cappe, which he
swore as he was a Souldier he would weare (if aliue) I wil
strike it out soundly
   Kin. What thinke you Captaine Fluellen, is it fit this
souldier keepe his oath
   Flu. Hee is a Crauen and a Villaine else, and't please
your Maiesty in my conscience
   King. It may bee, his enemy is a Gentleman of great
sort quite from the answer of his degree
   Flu. Though he be as good a Ientleman as the diuel is,
as Lucifer and Belzebub himselfe, it is necessary (looke
your Grace) that he keepe his vow and his oath: If hee
bee periur'd (see you now) his reputation is as arrant a
villaine and a Iacke sawce, as euer his blacke shoo trodd
vpon Gods ground, and his earth, in my conscience law
  King. Then keepe thy vow sirrah, when thou meet'st
   Wil. So, I wil my Liege, as I liue
   King. Who seru'st thou vnder?
  Will. Vnder Captaine Gower, my Liege
   Flu. Gower is a good Captaine, and is good knowledge
and literatured in the Warres
   King. Call him hither to me, Souldier
   Will. I will my Liege.
  King. Here Fluellen, weare thou this fauour for me, and
sticke it in thy Cappe: when Alanson and my selfe were
downe together, I pluckt this Gloue from his Helme: If
any man challenge this, hee is a friend to Alanson, and an
enemy to our Person; if thou encounter any such, apprehend
him, and thou do'st me loue
   Flu. Your Grace doo's me as great Honors as can be
desir'd in the hearts of his Subiects: I would faine see
the man, that ha's but two legges, that shall find himselfe
agreefd at this Gloue; that is all: but I would faine see
it once, and please God of his grace that I might see
   King. Know'st thou Gower?
  Flu. He is my deare friend, and please you
   King. Pray thee goe seeke him, and bring him to my
   Flu. I will fetch him.
  King. My Lord of Warwick, and my Brother Gloster,
Follow Fluellen closely at the heeles.
The Gloue which I haue giuen him for a fauour,
May haply purchase him a box a'th' eare.
It is the Souldiers: I by bargaine should
Weare it my selfe. Follow good Cousin Warwick:
If that the Souldier strike him, as I iudge
By his blunt bearing, he will keepe his word;
Some sodaine mischiefe may arise of it:
For I doe know Fluellen valiant,
And toucht with Choler, hot as Gunpowder,
And quickly will returne an iniurie.
Follow, and see there be no harme betweene them.
Goe you with me, Vnckle of Exeter.
Enter Gower and Williams.
  Will. I warrant it is to Knight you, Captaine.
Enter Fluellen.
  Flu. Gods will, and his pleasure, Captaine, I beseech
you now, come apace to the King: there is more good
toward you peraduenture, then is in your knowledge to
   Will. Sir, know you this Gloue?
  Flu. Know the Gloue? I know the Gloue is a Gloue
   Will. I know this, and thus I challenge it.
Strikes him.
  Flu. 'Sblud, an arrant Traytor as anyes in the Vniuersall
World, or in France, or in England
   Gower. How now Sir? you Villaine
   Will. Doe you thinke Ile be forsworne?
  Flu. Stand away Captaine Gower, I will giue Treason
his payment into plowes, I warrant you
   Will. I am no Traytor
   Flu. That's a Lye in thy Throat. I charge you in his
Maiesties Name apprehend him, he's a friend of the Duke
Enter Warwick and Gloucester.
  Warw. How now, how now, what's the matter?
  Flu. My Lord of Warwick, heere is, praysed be God
for it, a most contagious Treason come to light, looke
you, as you shall desire in a Summers day. Heere is his
Enter King and Exeter.
  King. How now, what's the matter?
  Flu. My Liege, heere is a Villaine, and a Traytor,
that looke your Grace, ha's strooke the Gloue which
your Maiestie is take out of the Helmet of Alanson
   Will. My Liege, this was my Gloue, here is the fellow
of it: and he that I gaue it to in change, promis'd to weare
it in his Cappe: I promis'd to strike him, if he did: I met
this man with my Gloue in his Cappe, and I haue been as
good as my word
   Flu. Your Maiestie heare now, sauing your Maiesties
Manhood, what an arrant rascally, beggerly, lowsie
Knaue it is: I hope your Maiestie is peare me testimonie
and witnesse, and will auouchment, that this is the Gloue
of Alanson, that your Maiestie is giue me, in your Conscience
   King. Giue me thy Gloue Souldier;
Looke, heere is the fellow of it:
'Twas I indeed thou promised'st to strike,
And thou hast giuen me most bitter termes
   Flu. And please your Maiestie, let his Neck answere
for it, if there is any Marshall Law in the World
   King. How canst thou make me satisfaction?
  Will. All offences, my Lord, come from the heart: neuer
came any from mine, that might offend your Maiestie
   King. It was our selfe thou didst abuse
   Will. Your Maiestie came not like your selfe: you
appear'd to me but as a common man; witnesse the
Night, your Garments, your Lowlinesse: and what
your Highnesse suffer'd vnder that shape, I beseech you
take it for your owne fault, and not mine: for had you
beene as I tooke you for, I made no offence; therefore I
beseech your Highnesse pardon me
   King. Here Vnckle Exeter, fill this Gloue with Crownes,
And giue it to this fellow. Keepe it fellow,
And weare it for an Honor in thy Cappe,
Till I doe challenge it. Giue him the Crownes:
And Captaine, you must needs be friends with him
   Flu. By this Day and this Light, the fellow ha's mettell
enough in his belly: Hold, there is twelue-pence for
you, and I pray you to serue God, and keepe you out of
prawles and prabbles, and quarrels and dissentions, and I
warrant you it is the better for you
   Will. I will none of your Money
   Flu. It is with a good will: I can tell you it will serue
you to mend your shooes: come, wherefore should you
be so pashfull, your shooes is not so good: 'tis a good
silling I warrant you, or I will change it.
Enter Herauld.
  King. Now Herauld, are the dead numbred?
  Herald. Heere is the number of the slaught'red
   King. What Prisoners of good sort are taken,
  Exe. Charles Duke of Orleance, Nephew to the King,
Iohn Duke of Burbon, and Lord Bouchiquald:
Of other Lords and Barons, Knights and Squires,
Full fifteene hundred, besides common men
   King. This Note doth tell me of ten thousand French
That in the field lye slaine: of Princes in this number,
And Nobles bearing Banners, there lye dead
One hundred twentie six: added to these,
Of Knights, Esquires, and gallant Gentlemen,
Eight thousand and foure hundred: of the which,
Fiue hundred were but yesterday dubb'd Knights.
So that in these ten thousand they haue lost,
There are but sixteene hundred Mercenaries:
The rest are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights, Squires,
And Gentlemen of bloud and qualitie.
The Names of those their Nobles that lye dead:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France,
Iaques of Chatilion, Admirall of France,
The Master of the Crosse-bowes, Lord Rambures,
Great Master of France, the braue Sir Guichard Dolphin,
Iohn Duke of Alanson, Anthonie Duke of Brabant,
The Brother to the Duke of Burgundie,
And Edward Duke of Barr: of lustie Earles,
Grandpree and Roussie, Fauconbridge and Foyes,
Beaumont and Marle, Vandemont and Lestrale.
Here was a Royall fellowship of death.
Where is the number of our English dead?
Edward the Duke of Yorke, the Earle of Suffolke,
Sir Richard Ketly, Dauy Gam Esquire;
None else of name: and of all other men,
But fiue and twentie.
O God, thy Arme was heere:
And not to vs, but to thy Arme alone,
Ascribe we all: when, without stratagem,
But in plaine shock, and euen play of Battaile,
Was euer knowne so great and little losse?
On one part and on th' other, take it God,
For it is none but thine
   Exet. 'Tis wonderfull
   King. Come, goe we in procession to the Village:
And be it death proclaymed through our Hoast,
To boast of this, or take that prayse from God,
Which is his onely
   Flu. Is it not lawfull and please your Maiestie, to tell
how many is kill'd?
  King. Yes Captaine: but with this acknowledgement,
That God fought for vs
   Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did vs great good
   King. Doe we all holy Rights:
Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum,
The dead with charitie enclos'd in Clay:
And then to Callice, and to England then,
Where ne're from France arriu'd more happy men.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Chorus.
Vouchsafe to those that haue not read the Story,
That I may prompt them: and of such as haue,
I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life,
Be here presented. Now we beare the King
Toward Callice: Graunt him there; there seene,
Heaue him away vpon your winged thoughts,
Athwart the Sea: Behold the English beach
Pales in the flood; with Men, Wiues, and Boyes,
Whose shouts & claps out-voyce the deep-mouth'd Sea,
Which like a mightie Whiffler 'fore the King,
Seemes to prepare his way: So let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath Thought, that euen now
You may imagine him vpon Black-Heath:
Where, that his Lords desire him, to haue borne
His bruised Helmet, and his bended Sword
Before him, through the Citie: he forbids it,
Being free from vainnesse, and selfe-glorious pride;
Giuing full Trophee, Signall, and Ostent,
Quite from himselfe, to God. But now behold,
In the quick Forge and working-house of Thought,
How London doth powre out her Citizens,
The Maior and all his Brethren in best sort,
Like to the Senatours of th' antique Rome,
With the Plebeians swarming at their heeles,
Goe forth and fetch their Conqu'ring Cæsar in:
As by a lower, but by louing likelyhood,
Were now the Generall of our gracious Empresse,
As in good time he may, from Ireland comming,
Bringing Rebellion broached on his Sword;
How many would the peacefull Citie quit,
To welcome him? much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him.
As yet the lamentation of the French
Inuites the King of Englands stay at home:
The Emperour's comming in behalfe of France,
To order peace betweene them: and omit
All the occurrences, what euer chanc't,
Till Harryes backe returne againe to France:
There must we bring him; and my selfe haue play'd
The interim, by remembring you 'tis past.
Then brooke abridgement, and your eyes aduance,
After your thoughts, straight backe againe to France.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
  Gower. Nay, that's right: but why weare you your
Leeke to day? S[aint]. Dauies day is past
   Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore
in all things: I will tell you asse my friend, Captaine
Gower; the rascally, scauld, beggerly, lowsie, pragging
Knaue Pistoll, which you and your selfe, and all the World,
know to be no petter then a fellow, looke you now, of no
merits: hee is come to me, and prings me pread and
sault yesterday, looke you, and bid me eate my Leeke:
it was in a place where I could not breed no contention
with him; but I will be so bold as to weare it in my Cap
till I see him once againe, and then I will tell him a little
piece of my desires.
Enter Pistoll.
  Gower. Why heere hee comes, swelling like a Turkycock
   Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his Turkycocks.
God plesse you aunchient Pistoll: you scuruie lowsie
Knaue, God plesse you
   Pist. Ha, art thou bedlam? doest thou thirst, base
Troian, to haue me fold vp Parcas fatall Web? Hence;
I am qualmish at the smell of Leeke
   Flu. I peseech you heartily, scuruie lowsie Knaue, at
my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eate,
looke you, this Leeke; because, looke you, you doe not
loue it, nor your affections, and your appetites and your
disgestions doo's not agree with it, I would desire you
   Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats
   Flu. There is one Goat for you.
 Strikes him.
Will you be so good, scauld Knaue, as eate it?
  Pist. Base Troian, thou shalt dye
   Flu. You say very true, scauld Knaue, when Gods
will is: I will desire you to liue in the meane time, and
eate your Victuals: come, there is sawce for it. You
call'd me yesterday Mountaine-Squier, but I will make
you to day a squire of low degree. I pray you fall too, if
you can mocke a Leeke, you can eate a Leeke
   Gour. Enough Captaine, you haue astonisht him
   Flu. I say, I will make him eate some part of my leeke,
or I will peate his pate foure dayes: bite I pray you, it is
good for your greene wound, and your ploodie Coxecombe
   Pist. Must I bite
   Flu. Yes certainly, and out of doubt and out of question
too, and ambiguities
   Pist. By this Leeke, I will most horribly reuenge I
eate and eate I sweare
   Flu. Eate I pray you, will you haue some more sauce
to your Leeke: there is not enough Leeke to sweare by
   Pist. Quiet thy Cudgell, thou dost see I eate
   Flu. Much good do you scald knaue, heartily. Nay,
pray you throw none away, the skinne is good for your
broken Coxcombe; when you take occasions to see
Leekes heereafter, I pray you mocke at 'em, that is all
   Pist. Good
   Flu. I, Leekes is good: hold you, there is a groat to
heale your pate
   Pist. Me a groat?
  Flu. Yes verily, and in truth you shall take it, or I haue
another Leeke in my pocket, which you shall eate
   Pist. I take thy groat in earnest of reuenge
   Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in Cudgels,
you shall be a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of
me but cudgels: God bu'y you, and keepe you, & heale
  Pist. All hell shall stirre for this
   Gow. Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly Knaue,
will you mocke at an ancient Tradition began vppon an
honourable respect, and worne as a memorable Trophee
of predeceased valor, and dare not auouch in your deeds
any of your words. I haue seene you gleeking & galling
at this Gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because
he could not speake English in the natiue garb, he could
not therefore handle an English Cudgell: you finde it otherwise,
and henceforth let a Welsh correction, teach
you a good English condition, fare ye well.
  Pist. Doeth fortune play the huswife with me now?
Newes haue I that my Doll is dead i'th Spittle of a malady
of France, and there my rendeuous is quite cut off:
Old I do waxe, and from my wearie limbes honour is
Cudgeld. Well, Baud Ile turne, and something leane to
Cut-purse of quicke hand: To England will I steale, and
there Ile steale:
And patches will I get vnto these cudgeld scarres,
And swore I got them in the Gallia warres.
Enter at one doore, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwicke, and
Lords. At another, Queene Isabel, the King, the Duke of
Bourgougne, and
other French.
  King. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met;
Vnto our brother France, and to our Sister
Health and faire time of day: Ioy and good wishes
To our most faire and Princely Cosine Katherine:
And as a branch and member of this Royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriu'd,
We do salute you Duke of Burgogne,
And Princes French and Peeres health to you all
   Fra. Right ioyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy brother England, fairely met,
So are you Princes (English) euery one
   Quee. So happy be the Issue brother Ireland
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes,
Your eyes which hitherto haue borne
In them against the French that met them in their bent,
The fatall Balls of murthering Basiliskes:
The venome of such Lookes we fairely hope
Haue lost their qualitie, and that this day
Shall change all griefes and quarrels into loue
   Eng. To cry Amen to that, thus we appeare
   Quee. You English Princes all, I doe salute you
   Burg. My dutie to you both, on equall loue.
Great Kings of France and England: that I haue labour'd
With all my wits, my paines, and strong endeuors,
To bring your most Imperiall Maiesties
Vnto this Barre, and Royall enterview;
Your Mightinesse on both parts best can witnesse.
Since then my Office hath so farre preuayl'd,
That Face to Face, and Royall Eye to Eye,
You haue congreeted: let it not disgrace me,
If I demand before this Royall view,
What Rub, or what Impediment there is,
Why that the naked, poore, and mangled Peace,
Deare Nourse of Arts, Plentyes, and ioyfull Births,
Should not in this best Garden of the World,
Our fertile France, put vp her louely Visage?
Alas, shee hath from France too long been chas'd,
And all her Husbandry doth lye on heapes,
Corrupting in it owne fertilitie.
Her Vine, the merry chearer of the heart,
Vnpruned, dyes: her Hedges euen pleach'd,
Like Prisoners wildly ouer-growne with hayre,
Put forth disorder'd Twigs: her fallow Leas,
The Darnell, Hemlock, and ranke Femetary,
Doth root vpon; while that the Culter rusts,
That should deracinate such Sauagery:
The euen Meade, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled Cowslip, Burnet, and greene Clouer,
Wanting the Sythe, withall vncorrected, ranke;
Conceiues by idlenesse, and nothing teemes,
But hatefull Docks, rough Thistles, Keksyes, Burres,
Loosing both beautie and vtilitie;
And all our Vineyards, Fallowes, Meades, and Hedges,
Defectiue in their natures, grow to wildnesse.
Euen so our Houses, and our selues, and Children,
Haue lost, or doe not learne, for want of time,
The Sciences that should become our Countrey;
But grow like Sauages, as Souldiers will,
That nothing doe, but meditate on Blood,
To Swearing, and sterne Lookes, defus'd Attyre,
And euery thing that seemes vnnaturall.
Which to reduce into our former fauour,
You are assembled: and my speech entreats,
That I may know the Let, why gentle Peace
Should not expell these inconueniences,
And blesse vs with her former qualities
   Eng. If Duke of Burgonie, you would the Peace,
Whose want giues growth to th' imperfections
Which you haue cited; you must buy that Peace
With full accord to all our iust demands,
Whose Tenures and particular effects
You haue enschedul'd briefely in your hands
   Burg. The King hath heard them: to the which, as yet
There is no Answer made
   Eng. Well then: the Peace which you before so vrg'd,
Lyes in his Answer
   France. I haue but with a curselarie eye
O're-glanc't the Articles: Pleaseth your Grace
To appoint some of your Councell presently
To sit with vs once more, with better heed
To re-suruey them; we will suddenly
Passe our accept and peremptorie Answer
   England. Brother we shall. Goe Vnckle Exeter,
And Brother Clarence, and you Brother Gloucester,
Warwick, and Huntington, goe with the King,
And take with you free power, to ratifie,
Augment, or alter, as your Wisdomes best
Shall see aduantageable for our Dignitie,
Any thing in or out of our Demands,
And wee'le consigne thereto. Will you, faire Sister,
Goe with the Princes, or stay here with vs?
  Quee. Our gracious Brother, I will goe with them:
Happily a Womans Voyce may doe some good,
When Articles too nicely vrg'd, be stood on
   England. Yet leaue our Cousin Katherine here with vs,
She is our capitall Demand, compris'd
Within the fore-ranke of our Articles
   Quee. She hath good leaue.
Exeunt. omnes.
Manet King and Katherine
   King. Faire Katherine, and most faire,
Will you vouchsafe to teach a Souldier tearmes,
Such as will enter at a Ladyes eare,
And pleade his Loue-suit to her gentle heart
   Kath. Your Maiestie shall mock at me, I cannot speake
your England
   King. O faire Katherine, if you will loue me soundly
with your French heart, I will be glad to heare you confesse
it brokenly with your English Tongue. Doe you
like me, Kate?
  Kath. Pardonne moy, I cannot tell wat is like me
   King. An Angell is like you Kate, and you are like an
   Kath. Que dit il que Ie suis semblable a les Anges?
  Lady. Ouy verayment (sauf vostre Grace) ainsi dit il
   King. I said so, deare Katherine, and I must not blush
to affirme it
   Kath. O bon Dieu, les langues des hommes sont plein de
   King. What sayes she, faire one? that the tongues of
men are full of deceits?
  Lady. Ouy, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits:
dat is de Princesse
   King. The Princesse is the better English-woman:
yfaith Kate, my wooing is fit for thy vnderstanding, I am
glad thou canst speake no better English, for if thou
could'st, thou would'st finde me such a plaine King, that
thou wouldst thinke, I had sold my Farme to buy my
Crowne. I know no wayes to mince it in loue, but directly
to say, I loue you; then if you vrge me farther,
then to say, Doe you in faith? I weare out my suite: Giue
me your answer, yfaith doe, and so clap hands, and a bargaine:
how say you, Lady?
  Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, me vnderstand well
   King. Marry, if you would put me to Verses, or to
Dance for your sake, Kate, why you vndid me: for the one
I haue neither words nor measure; and for the other, I
haue no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in
strength. If I could winne a Lady at Leape-frogge, or by
vawting into my Saddle, with my Armour on my backe;
vnder the correction of bragging be it spoken. I should
quickly leape into a Wife: Or if I might buffet for my
Loue, or bound my Horse for her fauours, I could lay on
like a Butcher, and sit like a Iack an Apes, neuer off. But
before God Kate, I cannot looke greenely, nor gaspe out
my eloquence, nor I haue no cunning in protestation;
onely downe-right Oathes, which I neuer vse till vrg'd,
nor neuer breake for vrging. If thou canst loue a fellow
of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth Sunne-burning?
that neuer lookes in his Glasse, for loue of any
thing he sees there? let thine Eye be thy Cooke. I speake
to thee plaine Souldier: If thou canst loue me for this,
take me? if not? to say to thee that I shall dye, is true; but
for thy loue, by the L[ord]. No: yet I loue thee too. And
while thou liu'st, deare Kate, take a fellow of plaine and
vncoyned Constancie, for he perforce must do thee right,
because he hath not the gift to wooe in other places: for
these fellowes of infinit tongue, that can ryme themselues
into Ladyes fauours, they doe alwayes reason themselues
out againe. What? a speaker is but a prater, a Ryme is
but a Ballad; a good Legge will fall, a strait Backe will
stoope, a blacke Beard will turne white, a curl'd Pate will
grow bald, a faire Face will wither, a full Eye will wax
hollow: but a good Heart, Kate, is the Sunne and the
Moone, or rather the Sunne, and not the Moone; for it
shines bright, and neuer changes, but keepes his course
truly. If thou would haue such a one, take me? and
take me; take a Souldier: take a Souldier; take a King.
And what say'st thou then to my Loue? speake my faire,
and fairely, I pray thee
   Kath. Is it possible dat I sould loue de ennemie of
  King. No, it is not possible you should loue the Enemie
of France, Kate; but in louing me, you should loue
the Friend of France: for I loue France so well, that I
will not part with a Village of it; I will haue it all mine:
and Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours; then yours
is France, and you are mine
   Kath. I cannot tell wat is dat
   King. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am
sure will hang vpon my tongue, like a new-married Wife
about her Husbands Necke, hardly to be shooke off; Ie
quand sur le possession de Fraunce, & quand vous aues le
de moy. (Let mee see, what then? Saint Dennis bee
my speede) Donc vostre est Fraunce, & vous estes mienne.
It is as easie for me, Kate, to conquer the Kingdome, as to
speake so much more French: I shall neuer moue thee in
French, vnlesse it be to laugh at me
   Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, le Francois ques vous parleis, il
& melieus que l' Anglois le quel Ie parle
   King. No faith is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of
my Tongue, and I thine, most truely falsely, must
needes be graunted to be much at one. But Kate, doo'st
thou vnderstand thus much English? Canst thou loue
  Kath. I cannot tell
   King. Can any of your Neighbours tell, Kate? Ile
aske them. Come, I know thou louest me: and at night,
when you come into your Closet, you'le question this
Gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to
her disprayse those parts in me, that you loue with your
heart: but good Kate, mocke me mercifully, the rather
gentle Princesse, because I loue thee cruelly. If euer thou
beest mine, Kate, as I haue a sauing Faith within me tells
me thou shalt; I get thee with skambling, and thou
must therefore needes proue a good Souldier-breeder:
Shall not thou and I, betweene Saint Dennis and Saint
George, compound a Boy, halfe French halfe English,
that shall goe to Constantinople, and take the Turke by
the Beard. Shall wee not? what say'st thou, my faire
Flower-de-Luce
   Kate. I doe not know dat
   King. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise:
doe but now promise Kate, you will endeauour for your
French part of such a Boy; and for my English moytie,
take the Word of a King, and a Batcheler. How answer
you. La plus belle Katherine du monde mon trescher & deuin
   Kath. Your Maiestee aue fause Frenche enough to
deceiue de most sage Damoiseil dat is en Fraunce
   King. Now fye vpon my false French: by mine Honor
in true English, I loue thee Kate; by which Honor, I dare
not sweare thou louest me, yet my blood begins to flatter
me, that thou doo'st; notwithstanding the poore and
vntempering effect of my Visage. Now beshrew my
Fathers Ambition, hee was thinking of Ciuill Warres
when hee got me, therefore was I created with a stubborne
out-side, with an aspect of Iron, that when I come
to wooe Ladyes, I fright them: but in faith Kate, the elder
I wax, the better I shall appeare. My comfort is, that
Old Age, that ill layer vp of Beautie, can doe no more
spoyle vpon my Face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at
the worst; and thou shalt weare me, if thou weare me,
better and better: and therefore tell me, most faire Katherine,
will you haue me? Put off your Maiden Blushes,
auouch the Thoughts of your Heart with the Lookes of
an Empresse, take me by the Hand, and say, Harry of
England, I am thine: which Word thou shalt no sooner
blesse mine Eare withall, but I will tell thee alowd, England
is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry
Plantaginet is thine; who, though I speake it before his
Face, if he be not Fellow with the best King, thou shalt
finde the best King of Good-fellowes. Come your Answer
in broken Musick; for thy Voyce is Musick, and
thy English broken: Therefore Queene of all, Katherine,
breake thy minde to me in broken English; wilt thou
  Kath. Dat is as it shall please de Roy mon pere
   King. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please
   Kath. Den it sall also content me
   King. Vpon that I kisse your Hand, and I call you my
   Kath. Laisse mon Seigneur, laisse, laisse, may foy: Ie ne
veus point que vous abbaisse vostre grandeus, en baisant le
main d' une nostre Seigneur indignie seruiteur excuse moy. Ie
vous supplie mon tres-puissant Seigneur
   King. Then I will kisse your Lippes, Kate
   Kath. Les Dames & Damoisels pour estre baisee deuant
leur nopcese il net pas le costume de Fraunce
   King. Madame, my Interpreter, what sayes shee?
  Lady. Dat it is not be de fashon pour le Ladies of
Fraunce; I cannot tell wat is buisse en Anglish
   King. To kisse
   Lady. Your Maiestee entendre bettre que moy
   King. It is not a fashion for the Maids in Fraunce to
kisse before they are marryed, would she say?
  Lady. Ouy verayment
   King. O Kate, nice Customes cursie to great Kings.
Deare Kate, you and I cannot bee confin'd within the
weake Lyst of a Countreyes fashion: wee are the makers
of Manners, Kate; and the libertie that followes
our Places, stoppes the mouth of all finde-faults, as I
will doe yours, for vpholding the nice fashion of your
Countrey, in denying me a Kisse: therefore patiently,
and yeelding. You haue Witch-craft in your Lippes,
Kate: there is more eloquence in a Sugar touch of
them, then in the Tongues of the French Councell; and
they should sooner perswade Harry of England, then a
generall Petition of Monarchs. Heere comes your
Enter the French Power, and the English Lords.
  Burg. God saue your Maiestie, my Royall Cousin,
teach you our Princesse English?
  King. I would haue her learne, my faire Cousin, how
perfectly I loue her, and that is good English
   Burg. Is shee not apt?
  King. Our Tongue is rough, Coze, and my Condition
is not smooth: so that hauing neyther the Voyce nor
the Heart of Flatterie about me, I cannot so coniure vp
the Spirit of Loue in her, that hee will appeare in his true
   Burg. Pardon the franknesse of my mirth, if I answer
you for that. If you would coniure in her, you must
make a Circle: if coniure vp Loue in her in his true
likenesse, hee must appeare naked, and blinde. Can you
blame her then, being a Maid, yet ros'd ouer with the
Virgin Crimson of Modestie, if shee deny the apparance
of a naked blinde Boy in her naked seeing selfe? It were
(my Lord) a hard Condition for a Maid to consigne
   King. Yet they doe winke and yeeld, as Loue is blind
and enforces
   Burg. They are then excus'd, my Lord, when they see
not what they doe
   King. Then good my Lord, teach your Cousin to
consent winking
   Burg. I will winke on her to consent, my Lord, if you
will teach her to know my meaning: for Maides well
Summer'd, and warme kept, are like Flyes at Bartholomew-tyde,
blinde, though they haue their eyes, and then
they will endure handling, which before would not abide
   King. This Morall tyes me ouer to Time, and a hot
Summer; and so I shall catch the Flye, your Cousin, in
the latter end, and she must be blinde to
   Burg. As Loue is my Lord, before it loues
   King. It is so: and you may, some of you, thanke
Loue for my blindnesse, who cannot see many a faire
French Citie for one faire French Maid that stands in my
   French King. Yes my Lord, you see them perspectiuely:
the Cities turn'd into a Maid; for they are
all gyrdled with Maiden Walls, that Warre hath entred
   England. Shall Kate be my Wife?
  France. So please you
   England. I am content, so the Maiden Cities you
talke of, may wait on her: so the Maid that stood in
the way for my Wish, shall shew me the way to my
   France. Wee haue consented to all tearmes of reason
   England. Is't so, my Lords of England?
  West. The King hath graunted euery Article:
His Daughter first; and in sequele, all,
According to their firme proposed natures
   Exet. Onely he hath not yet subscribed this:
Where your Maiestie demands, That the King of France
hauing any occasion to write for matter of Graunt, shall
name your Highnesse in this forme, and with this addition,
in French: Nostre trescher filz Henry Roy d' Angleterre
Heretere de Fraunce: and thus in Latine; Praeclarissimus
Filius noster Henricus Rex Angliæ & Heres Franciae
   France. Nor this I haue not Brother so deny'd,
But your request shall make me let it passe
   England. I pray you then, in loue and deare allyance,
Let that one Article ranke with the rest,
And thereupon giue me your Daughter
   France. Take her faire Sonne, and from her blood rayse vp
Issue to me, that the contending Kingdomes
Of France and England, whose very shoares looke pale,
With enuy of each others happinesse,
May cease their hatred; and this deare Coniunction
Plant Neighbour-hood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet Bosomes: that neuer Warre aduance
His bleeding Sword 'twixt England and faire France
   Lords. Amen
   King. Now welcome Kate: and beare me witnesse all,
That here I kisse her as my Soueraigne Queene.
  Quee. God, the best maker of all Marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your Realmes in one:
As Man and Wife being two, are one in loue,
So be there 'twixt your Kingdomes such a Spousall,
That neuer may ill Office, or fell Iealousie,
Which troubles oft the Bed of blessed Marriage,
Thrust in betweene the Paction of these Kingdomes,
To make diuorce of their incorporate League:
That English may as French, French Englishmen,
Receiue each other. God speake this Amen
   All. Amen
   King. Prepare we for our Marriage: on which day,
My Lord of Burgundy wee'le take your Oath
And all the Peeres, for suretie of our Leagues.
Then shall I sweare to Kate, and you to me,
And may our Oathes well kept and prosp'rous be.
Senet. Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
Thus farre with rough, and all-vnable Pen,
Our bending Author hath pursu'd the Story,
In little roome confining mightie men,
Mangling by starts the full course of their glory.
Small time: but in that small, most greatly liued
This Starre of England. Fortune made his Sword;
By which, the Worlds best Garden he atchieued:
And of it left his Sonne Imperiall Lord.
Henry the Sixt, in Infant Bands crown'd King
Of France and England, did this King succeed:
Whose State so many had the managing,
That they lost France, and made his England bleed:
Which oft our Stage hath showne; and for their sake,
In your faire minds let this acceptance take.
FINIS. The Life of Henry the Fift.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
As you Like it
Actus primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
  Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion
bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand
Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother
on his blessing to breed mee well: and
there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes
at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit:
for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak
more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call
you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs
not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred
better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding,
they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders
deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder
him but growth, for the which his Animals on his
dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing
that he so plentifully giues me, the something that
nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from
me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the
place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my
gentility with my education. This is it Adam that
grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke
is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude.
I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise
remedy how to auoid it.
Enter Oliuer.
  Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother
   Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how
he will shake me vp
   Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?
  Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing
   Oli. What mar you then sir?
  Orl. Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with
   Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught
   Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
  Oli. Know you where you are sir?
  Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard
   Oli. Know you before whom sir?
  Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I
know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition
of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of
nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first
borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud,
were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much
of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming
before me is neerer to his reuerence
   Oli. What Boy
   Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this
   Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine?
  Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir
Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine
that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou
not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy
throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying
so, thou hast raild on thy selfe
   Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers
remembrance, be at accord
   Oli. Let me goe I say
   Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my
father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education:
you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and
hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit
of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer
endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become
a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my
father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my
   Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent?
Well sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with
you: you shall haue some part of your will, I pray you
   Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee
   Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge
   Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue
lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master,
he would not haue spoke such a word.
Ex. Orl. Ad.
  Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will
physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand
crownes neyther: holla Dennis.
Enter Dennis.
  Den. Calls your worship?
  Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to
speake with me?
  Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes
accesse to you
   Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow
the wrastling is.
Enter Charles.
  Cha. Good morrow to your worship
   Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes
at the new Court?
  Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the
olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger
brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing
Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with
him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke,
therefore he giues them good leaue to wander
   Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee
banished with her Father?
  Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so
loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together,
that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to
stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued
of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies
loued as they doe
   Oli. Where will the old Duke liue?
  Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden,
and a many merry men with him; and there they liue
like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong
Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time
carelesly as they did in the golden world
   Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new
   Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you
with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that
your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come
in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I
wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without
some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother
is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee
loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee
come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither
to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him
from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he
shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search,
and altogether against my will
   Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which
thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my
selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by
vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it;
but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest
yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious
emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous
contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse
thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke
as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou
dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie
grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by
poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer
leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect
meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with
teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous
this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him,
but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must
blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and
   Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee
come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee
goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and
so God keepe your worship.
Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester:
I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet
I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's
gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble
deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed
so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my
owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether
misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall
cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy
thither, which now Ile goe about.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.
  Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry
   Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse
of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you
could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not
learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure
   Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full
waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father
had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou
hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue
to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth
of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine
   Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate,
to reioyce in yours
   Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor
none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt
be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father
perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by
mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee
turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose,
   Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports:
let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue?
  Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but
loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther,
then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor
come off againe
   Ros. What shall be our sport then?
  Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally
   Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are
mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman
doth most mistake in her gifts to women
   Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce
makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes
very illfauouredly
   Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures:
Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the
lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clowne.
  Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature,
may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature
hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune
sent in this foole to cut off the argument?
  Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when
fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures
   Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither,
but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull
to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for
our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is
the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether
  Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father
   Cel. Were you made the messenger?
  Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you
  Ros. Where learned you that oath foole?
  Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the
Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forsworne
   Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your
  Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome
   Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes,
and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue
   Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art
   Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if
you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no
more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer
had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before
euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard
   Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?
  Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues
   Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough;
speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one
of these daies
   Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely,
what Wisemen do foolishly
   Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little
wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that
wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur
Enter le Beau.
  Ros. With his mouth full of newes
   Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their
   Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd
   Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?
  Le Beu. Faire Princesse,
you haue lost much good sport
   Cel. Sport: of what colour?
  Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer
  Ros. As wit and fortune will
   Clo. Or as the destinies decrees
   Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell
   Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke
   Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell
   Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told
you of good wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of
   Ros. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling
   Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please
your Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet
to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to
   Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried
   Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three sons
   Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale
   Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth
and presence
   Ros. With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto
all men by these presents
   Le Beu. The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles
the Dukes Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw
him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little
hope of life in him: So he seru'd the second, and so the
third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father,
making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders
take his part with weeping
   Ros. Alas
   Clo. But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies
  Le Beu. Why this that I speake of
   Clo. Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the
first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport
   Cel. Or I, I promise thee
   Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken
Musicke in his sides? Is there yet another doates vpon
rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrastling Cosin?
  Le Beu. You must if you stay heere, for heere is the
place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to
   Cel. Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay
Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.
  Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be intreated
His owne perill on his forwardnesse
   Ros. Is yonder the man?
  Le Beu. Euen he, Madam
   Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully
  Du. How now daughter, and Cousin:
Are you crept hither to see the wrastling?
  Ros. I my Liege, so please you giue vs leaue
   Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you
there is such oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers
youth, I would faine disswade him, but he will not
bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see if you can
   Cel. Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu
   Duke. Do so: Ile not be by
   Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals
   Orl. I attend them with all respect and dutie
   Ros. Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the
  Orl. No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger,
I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength
   Cel. Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for
your yeares: you haue seene cruell proofe of this mans
strength, if you saw your selfe with your eies, or knew
your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduenture
would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We
pray you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie,
and giue ouer this attempt
   Ros. Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore
be misprised: we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that
the wrastling might not go forward
   Orl. I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde
thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie
so faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your
faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall;
wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was
neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to
be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to
lament me: the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing:
onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better
supplied, when I haue made it emptie
   Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were
   Cel. And mine to eeke out hers
   Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you
   Cel. Your hearts desires be with you
   Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth?
  Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest
   Duk. You shall trie but one fall
   Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat
him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him
from a first
   Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not
haue mockt me before: but come your waies
   Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man
   Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow
by the legge.
  Ros. Oh excellent yong man
   Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who
should downe.
  Duk. No more, no more
   Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well
   Duk. How do'st thou Charles?
  Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord
   Duk. Beare him awaie:
What is thy name yong man?
  Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland
   Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else,
The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did finde him still mine enemie:
Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede,
Hadst thou descended from another house:
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,
I would thou had'st told me of another Father.
  Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?
  Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne,
His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heire to Fredricke
   Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule,
And all the world was of my Fathers minde,
Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne,
I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties,
Ere he should thus haue ventur'd
   Cel. Gentle Cosen,
Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him:
My Fathers rough and enuious disposition
Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd,
If you doe keepe your promises in loue;
But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise,
Your Mistris shall be happie
   Ros. Gentleman,
Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune
That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes.
Shall we goe Coze?
  Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman
   Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts
Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp
Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke
   Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes,
Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir?
Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne
More then your enemies
   Cel. Will you goe Coze?
  Ros. Haue with you: fare you well.
  Orl. What passion hangs these waights vpo[n] my toong?
I cannot speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference.
Enter Le Beu.
O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne
Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee
   Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you
To leaue this place; Albeit you haue deseru'd
High commendation, true applause, and loue;
Yet such is now the Dukes condition,
That he misconsters all that you haue done:
The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede
More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of
   Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here was at the Wrastling?
  Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners,
But yet indeede the taller is his daughter,
The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle
To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues
Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sisters:
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece,
Grounded vpon no other argument,
But that the people praise her for her vertues,
And pittie her, for her good Fathers sake;
And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady
Will sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well,
Hereafter in a better world then this,
I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you
   Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.
Thus must I from the smoake into the smother,
From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother.
But heauenly Rosaline.
Scena Tertius.
Enter Celia and Rosaline.
  Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie,
  Ros. Not one to throw at a dog
   Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away
vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee
with reasons
   Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the
one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad
   Cel. But is all this for your Father?
  Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh
how full of briers is this working day world
   Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee
in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths
our very petty-coates will catch them
   Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are
   Cel. Hem them away
   Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him
   Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections
   Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then
   Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time
in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice,
let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine,
you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir
Roulands yongest sonne?
  Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie
   Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his
Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate
him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate
   Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake
   Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well?
Enter Duke with Lords.
  Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him
Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke
   Cel. With his eies full of anger
   Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste,
And get you from our Court
   Ros. Me Vncle
   Duk. You Cosen,
Within these ten daies if that thou beest found
So neere our publike Court as twentie miles,
Thou diest for it
   Ros. I doe beseech your Grace
Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me:
If with my selfe I hold intelligence,
Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires,
If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke,
(As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle,
Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne,
Did I offend your highnesse
   Duk. Thus doe all Traitors,
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace it selfe;
Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not
   Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?
  Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough
   Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome,
So was I when your highnesse banisht him;
Treason is not inherited my Lord,
Or if we did deriue it from our friends,
What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor,
Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much,
To thinke my pouertie is treacherous
   Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake
   Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Else had she with her Father rang'd along
   Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay,
It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse,
I was too yong that time to value her,
But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,
Why so am I: we still haue slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together,
And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans,
Still we went coupled and inseperable
   Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes;
Her verie silence, and her patience,
Speake to the people, and they pittie her:
Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous
When she is gone: then open not thy lips
Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe,
Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd
   Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige,
I cannot liue out of her companie
   Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe,
If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor,
And in the greatnesse of my word you die.
Exit Duke, &c.
  Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe?
Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine:
I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am
   Ros. I haue more cause
   Cel. Thou hast not Cosen,
Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
  Ros. That he hath not
   Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one,
Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle?
No, let my Father seeke another heire:
Therefore deuise with me how we may flie
Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs,
And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you,
To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out:
For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale;
Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee
   Ros. Why, whether shall we goe?
  Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden
   Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs,
(Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre?
Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold
   Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire,
And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face,
The like doe you, so shall we passe along,
And neuer stir assailants
   Ros. Were it not better,
Because that I am more then common tall,
That I did suite me all points like a man,
A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh,
A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart
Lye there what hidden womans feare there will,
Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside,
As manie other mannish cowards haue,
That doe outface it with their semblances
   Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
  Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page,
And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.
But what will you be call'd?
  Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena
   Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale
The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court:
Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?
  Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me,
Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away
And get our Iewels and our wealth together,
Deuise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide vs from pursuite that will be made
After my flight: now goe in we content
To libertie, and not to banishment.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like
  Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile:
Hath not old custome made this life more sweete
Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods
More free from perill then the enuious Court?
Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam,
The seasons difference, as the Icie phange
And churlish chiding of the winters winde,
Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body
Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly perswade me what I am:
Sweet are the vses of aduersitie
Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,
Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head:
And this our life exempt from publike haunt,
Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes,
Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing
   Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace
That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a stile
   Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison?
And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles
Being natiue Burgers of this desert City,
Should in their owne confines with forked heads
Haue their round hanches goard
   1.Lord. Indeed my Lord
The melancholy Iaques grieues at that,
And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe
Then doth your brother that hath banish'd you:
To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe,
Did steale behinde him as he lay along
Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out
Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood,
To the which place a poore sequestred Stag
That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt,
Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord
The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes
That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round teares
Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose
In pitteous chase: and thus the hairie foole,
Much marked of the melancholie Iaques,
Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke,
Augmenting it with teares
   Du.Sen. But what said Iaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
  1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies.
First, for his weeping into the needlesse streame;
Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more
To that which had too much: then being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his veluet friend;
'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part
The Fluxe of companie: anon a carelesse Heard
Full of the pasture, iumps along by him
And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques,
Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens,
'Tis iust the fashion; wherefore doe you looke
Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through
The body of Countrie, Citie, Court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are meere vsurpers, tyrants, and whats worse
To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp
In their assign'd and natiue dwelling place
   D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation?
  2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting
Vpon the sobbing Deere
   Du.Sen. Show me the place,
I loue to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter
   1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Duke, with Lords.
  Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be, some villaines of my Court
Are of consent and sufferance in this
   1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did see her,
The Ladies her attendants of her chamber
Saw her a bed, and in the morning early,
They found the bed vntreasur'd of their Mistris
   2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft,
Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing,
Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman
Confesses that she secretly ore-heard
Your daughter and her Cosen much commend
The parts and graces of the Wrastler
That did but lately foile the synowie Charles,
And she beleeues where euer they are gone
That youth is surely in their companie
   Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither,
If he be absent, bring his Brother to me,
Ile make him finde him: do this sodainly;
And let not search and inquisition quaile,
To bring againe these foolish runawaies.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
  Orl. Who's there?
  Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master,
Oh my sweet master, O you memorie
Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here?
Why are you vertuous? Why do people loue you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to ouercome
The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not Master, to seeme kinde of men,
Their graces serue them but as enemies,
No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you:
Oh what a world is this, when what is comely
Enuenoms him that beares it?
Why, what's the matter?
  Ad. O vnhappie youth,
Come not within these doores: within this roofe
The enemie of all your graces liues
Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne
(Yet not the son, I will not call him son)
Of him I was about to call his Father,
Hath heard your praises, and this night he meanes,
To burne the lodging where you vse to lye,
And you within it: if he faile of that
He will haue other meanes to cut you off;
I ouerheard him: and his practises:
This is no place, this house is but a butcherie;
Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it
   Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go?
  Ad. No matter whether, so you come not here
   Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food,
Or with a base and boistrous Sword enforce
A theeuish liuing on the common rode?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can,
I rather will subiect me to the malice
Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother
   Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes,
The thriftie hire I saued vnder your Father,
Which I did store to be my foster Nurse,
When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame,
And vnregarded age in corners throwne,
Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede,
Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow,
Be comfort to my age: here is the gold,
All this I giue you, let me be your seruant,
Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lustie;
For in my youth I neuer did apply
Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud,
Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe,
The meanes of weaknesse and debilitie,
Therefore my age is as a lustie winter,
Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you,
Ile doe the seruice of a yonger man
In all your businesse and necessities
   Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares
The constant seruice of the antique world,
When seruice sweate for dutie, not for meede:
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweate, but for promotion,
And hauing that do choake their seruice vp,
Euen with the hauing, it is not so with thee:
But poore old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossome yeelde,
In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie,
But come thy waies, weele goe along together,
And ere we haue thy youthfull wages spent,
Weele light vpon some setled low content
   Ad. Master goe on, and I will follow thee
To the last gaspe with truth and loyaltie,
From seauentie yeeres, till now almost fourescore
Here liued I, but now liue here no more
At seauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes seeke
But at fourescore, it is too late a weeke,
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Then to die well, and not my Masters debter.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Rosaline for Ganimed, Celia for Aliena, and Clowne, alias
  Ros. O Iupiter, how merry are my spirits?
  Clo. I care not for my spirits, if my legges were not
   Ros. I could finde in my heart to disgrace my mans
apparell, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort
the weaker vessell, as doublet and hose ought to show it
selfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore courage, good
   Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further
   Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then
beare you: yet I should beare no crosse if I did beare
you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purse
   Ros. Well, this is the Forrest of Arden
   Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I
was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers must
Enter Corin and Siluius.
  Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes
here, a yong man and an old in solemne talke
   Cor. That is the way to make her scorne you still
   Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knew'st how I do loue her
   Cor. I partly guesse: for I haue lou'd ere now
   Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canst not guesse,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a louer
As euer sigh'd vpon a midnight pillow:
But if thy loue were euer like to mine,
As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so:
How many actions most ridiculous,
Hast thou beene drawne to by thy fantasie?
  Cor. Into a thousand that I haue forgotten
   Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily,
If thou remembrest not the slightest folly,
That euer loue did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not broke from companie,
Abruptly as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lou'd.
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.
  Ros. Alas poore Shepheard searching of they would,
I haue by hard aduenture found mine owne
   Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I
broke my sword vpon a stone, and bid him take that for
comming a night to Iane Smile, and I remember the kissing
of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie
chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing
of a peascod instead of her, from whom I tooke two
cods, and giuing her them againe, said with weeping
teares, weare these for my sake: wee that are true Louers,
runne into strange capers; but as all is mortall in
nature, so is all nature in loue, mortall in folly
   Ros. Thou speak'st wiser then thou art ware of
   Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till
I breake my shins against it
   Ros. Ioue, Ioue, this Shepherds passion,
Is much vpon my fashion
   Clo. And mine, but it growes something stale with
   Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon'd man,
If he for gold will giue vs any foode,
I faint almost to death
   Clo. Holla; you Clowne
   Ros. Peace foole, he's not thy kinsman
   Cor. Who cals?
  Clo. Your betters Sir
   Cor. Else are they very wretched
   Ros. Peace I say; good euen to your friend
   Cor. And to you gentle Sir, and to you all
   Ros. I prethee Shepheard, if that loue or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring vs where we may rest our selues, and feed:
Here's a yong maid with trauaile much oppressed,
And faints for succour
   Cor. Faire Sir, I pittie her,
And wish for her sake more then for mine owne,
My fortunes were more able to releeue her:
But I am shepheard to another man,
And do not sheere the Fleeces that I graze:
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little wreakes to finde the way to heauen
By doing deeds of hospitalitie.
Besides his Coate, his Flockes, and bounds of feede
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coat now
By reason of his absence there is nothing
That you will feed on: but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be
   Ros. What is he that shall buy his flocke and pasture?
  Cor. That yong Swaine that you saw heere but erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing
   Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honestie,
Buy thou the Cottage, pasture, and the flocke,
And thou shalt haue to pay for it of vs
   Cel. And we will mend thy wages:
I like this place, and willingly could
Waste my time in it
   Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold:
Go with me, if you like vpon report,
The soile, the profit, and this kinde of life,
I will your very faithfull Feeder be,
And buy it with your Gold right sodainly.
Scena Quinta.
Enter, Amyens, Iaques, & others.
Vnder the greene wood tree,
who loues to lye with mee,
And turne his merrie Note,
vnto the sweet Birds throte:
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Heere shall he see no enemie,
But Winter and rough Weather
   Iaq. More, more, I pre'thee more
   Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques
  Iaq. I thanke it: More, I prethee more,
I can sucke melancholly out of a song,
As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more
   Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please
   Iaq. I do not desire you to please me,
I do desire you to sing:
Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's?
  Amy. What you wil Monsieur Iaques
   Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee
nothing. Wil you sing?
  Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe
   Iaq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, Ile thanke
you: but that they cal complement is like th' encounter
of two dog-Apes. And when a man thankes me hartily,
me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he renders me
the beggerly thankes. Come sing; and you that wil not
hold your tongues
   Amy. Wel, Ile end the song. Sirs, couer the while,
the Duke wil drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this
day to looke you
   Iaq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him:
He is too disputeable for my companie:
I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue
Heauen thankes, and make no boast of them.
Come, warble, come.
Song. Altogether heere.
Who doth ambition shunne,
and loues to liue i'th Sunne:
Seeking the food he eates,
and pleas'd with what he gets:
Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Heere shall he see. &c
   Iaq. Ile giue you a verse to this note,
That I made yesterday in despight of my Inuention
   Amy. And Ile sing it
   Amy. Thus it goes.
If it do come to passe, that any man turne Asse:
Leauing his wealth and ease,
A stubborne will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he,
And if he will come to me
   Amy. What's that Ducdame?
  Iaq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a circle.
Ile go sleepe if I can: if I cannot, Ile raile against all
the first borne of Egypt
   Amy. And Ile go seeke the Duke,
His banket is prepar'd.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Orlando, & Adam
   Adam. Deere Master, I can go no further:
O I die for food. Heere lie I downe,
And measure out my graue. Farwel kinde master
   Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee:
Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little.
If this vncouth Forrest yeeld any thing sauage,
I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee:
Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers.
For my sake be comfortable, hold death a while
At the armes end: I wil heere be with thee presently,
And if I bring thee not something to eate,
I wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest
Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor.
Wel said, thou look'st cheerely,
And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest
In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee
To some shelter, and thou shalt not die
For lacke of a dinner,
If there liue any thing in this Desert.
Cheerely good Adam.
Scena Septima.
Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes.
  Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast,
For I can no where finde him, like a man
   1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence,
Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song
   Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall,
We shall haue shortly discord in the Spheares:
Go seeke him, tell him I would speake with him.
Enter Iaques.
  1.Lord. He saues my labor by his owne approach
   Du.Sen. Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this
That your poore friends must woe your companie,
What, you looke merrily
   Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forrest,
A motley Foole (a miserable world:)
As I do liue by foode, I met a foole,
Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes,
In good set termes, and yet a motley foole.
Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he,
Call me not foole, till heauen hath sent me fortune,
And then he drew a diall from his poake,
And looking on it, with lacke-lustre eye,
Sayes, very wisely, it is ten a clocke:
Thus we may see (quoth he) how the world wagges:
'Tis but an houre agoe, since it was nine,
And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen,
And so from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe,
And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare
The motley Foole, thus morall on the time,
My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere,
That Fooles should be so deepe contemplatiue:
And I did laugh, sans intermission
An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole,
A worthy foole: Motley's the onely weare
   Du.Sen. What foole is this?
  Iaq. O worthie Foole: One that hath bin a Courtier
And sayes, if Ladies be but yong, and faire,
They haue the gift to know it: and in his braine,
Which is as drie as the remainder bisket
After a voyage: He hath strange places cram'd
With obseruation, the which he vents
In mangled formes. O that I were a foole,
I am ambitious for a motley coat
   Du.Sen. Thou shalt haue one
   Iaq. It is my onely suite,
Prouided that you weed your better iudgements
Of all opinion that growes ranke in them,
That I am wise. I must haue liberty
Withall, as large a Charter as the winde,
To blow on whom I please, for so fooles haue:
And they that are most gauled with my folly,
They most must laugh: And why sir must they so?
The why is plaine, as way to Parish Church:
Hee, that a Foole doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart
Seeme senselesse of the bob. If not,
The Wise-mans folly is anathomiz'd
Euen by the squandring glances of the foole.
Inuest me in my motley: Giue me leaue
To speake my minde, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foule bodie of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receiue my medicine
   Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do
   Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good?
  Du.Sen. Most mischeeuous foule sin, in chiding sin:
For thou thy selfe hast bene a Libertine,
As sensuall as the brutish sting it selfe,
And all th' imbossed sores, and headed euils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Would'st thou disgorge into the generall world
   Iaq. Why who cries out on pride,
That can therein taxe any priuate party:
Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea,
Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe.
What woman in the Citie do I name,
When that I say the City woman beares
The cost of Princes on vnworthy shoulders?
Who can come in, and say that I meane her,
When such a one as shee, such is her neighbor?
Or what is he of basest function,
That sayes his brauerie is not on my cost,
Thinking that I meane him, but therein suites
His folly to the mettle of my speech,
There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himselfe: if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies
Vnclaim'd of any man. But who come here?
Enter Orlando.
  Orl. Forbeare, and eate no more
   Iaq. Why I haue eate none yet
   Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be seru'd
   Iaq. Of what kinde should this Cocke come of?
  Du.Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd man by thy distres?
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in ciuility thou seem'st so emptie?
  Orl. You touch'd my veine at first, the thorny point
Of bare distresse, hath tane from me the shew
Of smooth ciuility: yet am I in-land bred,
And know some nourture: But forbeare, I say,
He dies that touches any of this fruite,
Till I, and my affaires are answered
   Iaq. And you will not be answer'd with reason,
   Du.Sen. What would you haue?
Your gentlenesse shall force, more then your force
Moue vs to gentlenesse
   Orl. I almost die for food, and let me haue it
   Du.Sen. Sit downe and feed, & welcom to our table
  Orl. Speake you so gently? Pardon me I pray you,
I thought that all things had bin sauage heere,
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of sterne command'ment. But what ere you are
That in this desert inaccessible,
Vnder the shade of melancholly boughes,
Loose, and neglect the creeping houres of time:
If euer you haue look'd on better dayes:
If euer beene where bels haue knoll'd to Church:
If euer sate at any good mans feast:
If euer from your eye-lids wip'd a teare,
And know what 'tis to pittie, and be pittied:
Let gentlenesse my strong enforcement be,
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my Sword
   Du.Sen. True is it, that we haue seene better dayes,
And haue with holy bell bin knowld to Church,
And sat at good mens feasts, and wip'd our eies
Of drops, that sacred pity hath engendred:
And therefore sit you downe in gentlenesse,
And take vpon command, what helpe we haue
That to your wanting may be ministred
   Orl. Then but forbeare your food a little while:
Whiles (like a Doe) I go to finde my Fawne,
And giue it food. There is an old poore man,
Who after me, hath many a weary steppe
Limpt in pure loue: till he be first suffic'd,
Opprest with two weake euils, age, and hunger,
I will not touch a bit
   Duke Sen. Go finde him out,
And we will nothing waste till you returne
   Orl. I thanke ye, and be blest for your good comfort
   Du.Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone vnhappie:
This wide and vniuersall Theater
Presents more wofull Pageants then the Sceane
Wherein we play in
   Ia. All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women, meerely Players;
They haue their Exits and their Entrances,
And one man in his time playes many parts,
His Acts being seuen ages. At first the Infant,
Mewling, and puking in the Nurses armes:
Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell
And shining morning face, creeping like snaile
Vnwillingly to schoole. And then the Louer,
Sighing like Furnace, with a wofull ballad
Made to his Mistresse eye-brow. Then, a Soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the Pard,
Ielous in honor, sodaine, and quicke in quarrell,
Seeking the bubble Reputation
Euen in the Canons mouth: And then, the Iustice
In faire round belly, with good Capon lin'd,
With eyes seuere, and beard of formall cut,
Full of wise sawes, and moderne instances,
And so he playes his part. The sixt age shifts
Into the leane and slipper'd Pantaloone,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthfull hose well sau'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunke shanke, and his bigge manly voice,
Turning againe toward childish trebble pipes,
And whistles in his sound. Last Scene of all,
That ends this strange euentfull historie,
Is second childishnesse, and meere obliuion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans euery thing.
Enter Orlando with Adam.
  Du.Sen. Welcome: set downe your venerable burthen,
and let him feede
   Orl. I thanke you most for him
   Ad. So had you neede,
I scarce can speake to thanke you for my selfe
   Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you,
As yet to question you about your fortunes:
Giue vs some Musicke, and good Cozen, sing.
Blow, blow, thou winter winde,
Thou art not so vnkinde, as mans ingratitude
Thy tooth is not so keene, because thou art not seene,
although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly,
Most frendship, is fayning; most Louing, meere folly:
The heigh ho, the holly,
This Life is most iolly.
Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that dost not bight so nigh
as benefitts forgot:
Though thou the waters warpe, thy sting is not so sharpe,
as freind remembred not.
Heigh ho, sing, &c
   Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlands son,
As you haue whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witnesse,
Most truly limn'd, and liuing in your face,
Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke
That lou'd your Father, the residue of your fortune,
Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man,
Thou art right welcome, as thy masters is:
Support him by the arme: giue me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes vnderstand.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer.
  Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:
But were I not the better part made mercie,
I should not seeke an absent argument
Of my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it,
Finde out thy brother wheresoere he is,
Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing
Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more
To seeke a liuing in our Territorie.
Thy Lands and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth,
Of what we thinke against thee
   Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this:
I neuer lou'd my brother in my life
   Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of dores
And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extent vpon his house and Lands:
Do this expediently, and turne him going.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Orlando.
  Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue,
And thou thrice crowned Queene of night suruey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboue
Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes,
And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter,
That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes,
Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where.
Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree,
The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee.
Enter Corin & Clowne.
  Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone?
  Clow. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a
good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is
naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well:
but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now
in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth mee well: but in
respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare
life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no
more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke.
Has't any Philosophie in thee shepheard?
  Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens,
the worse at ease he is: and that hee that wants money,
meanes, and content, is without three good frends. That
the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That
good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of
the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned
no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good
breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred
   Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher:
Was't euer in Court, Shepheard?
  Cor. No truly
   Clo. Then thou art damn'd
   Cor. Nay, I hope
   Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge,
all on one side
   Cor. For not being at Court? your reason
   Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer
saw'st good manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners,
then thy manners must be wicked, and wickednes is sin,
and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state shepheard
   Cor. Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners
at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as
the behauiour of the Countrie is most mockeable at the
Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but
you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie
if Courtiers were shepheards
   Clo. Instance, briefly: come, instance
   Cor. Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their
Fels you know are greasie
   Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and
is not the grease of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat
of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance I say:
   Cor. Besides, our hands are hard
   Clo. Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen:
a more sounder instance, come
   Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery
of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The
Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet
   Clo. Most shallow man: Thou wormes meate in respect
of a good peece of flesh indeed: learne of the wise
and perpend: Ciuet is of a baser birth then Tarre, the
verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the instance Shepheard
   Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, Ile rest
   Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God helpe thee shallow
man: God make incision in thee, thou art raw
   Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I eate: get
that I weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happinesse:
glad of other mens good content with my harme:
and the greatest of my pride, is to see my Ewes graze, &
my Lambes sucke
   Clo. That is another simple sinne in you, to bring the
Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your
liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bawd to a Belweather,
and to betray a shee-Lambe of a tweluemonth
to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all
reasonable match. If thou bee'st not damn'd for this, the
diuell himselfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot see else
how thou shouldst scape
   Cor. Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new Mistrisses
Enter Rosalind
   Ros. From the east to westerne Inde,
no iewel is like Rosalinde,
Hir worth being mounted on the winde,
through all the world beares Rosalinde.
All the pictures fairest Linde,
are but blacke to Rosalinde:
Let no face bee kept in mind,
but the faire of Rosalinde
   Clo. Ile rime you so, eight yeares together; dinners,
and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right
Butter-womens ranke to Market
   Ros. Out Foole
   Clo. For a taste.
If a Hart doe lacke a Hinde,
Let him seeke out Rosalinde:
If the Cat will after kinde,
so be sure will Rosalinde:
Wintred garments must be linde,
so must slender Rosalinde:
They that reap must sheafe and binde,
then to cart with Rosalinde.
Sweetest nut, hath sowrest rinde,
such a nut is Rosalinde.
He that sweetest rose will finde,
must finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde.
This is the verie false gallop of Verses, why doe you infect
your selfe with them?
  Ros. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree
   Clo. Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite
   Ros. Ile graffe it with you, and then I shall graffe it
with a Medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i'th country:
for you'l be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's
the right vertue of the Medler
   Clo. You haue said: but whether wisely or no, let the
Forrest iudge.
Enter Celia with a writing.
  Ros. Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand aside
   Cel. Why should this Desert bee,
for it is vnpeopled? Noe:
Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree,
that shall ciuill sayings shoe.
Some, how briefe the Life of man
runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span,
buckles in his summe of age.
Some of violated vowes,
twixt the soules of friend, and friend:
But vpon the fairest bowes,
or at euerie sentence end;
Will I Rosalinda write,
teaching all that reade, to know
The quintessence of euerie sprite,
heauen would in little show.
Therefore heauen Nature charg'd,
that one bodie should be fill'd
With all Graces wide enlarg'd,
nature presently distill'd
Helens cheeke, but not his heart,
Cleopatra's Maiestie:
Attalanta's better part,
sad Lucrecia's Modestie.
Thus Rosalinde of manie parts,
by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd,
Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts,
to haue the touches deerest pris'd.
Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue,
and I to liue and die her slaue
   Ros. O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of
Loue haue you wearied your parishioners withall, and
neuer cri'de, haue patience good people
   Cel. How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little:
go with him sirrah
   Clo. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit,
though not with bagge and baggage, yet with
scrip and scrippage.
  Cel. Didst thou heare these verses?
  Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some
of them had in them more feete then the Verses would
   Cel. That's no matter: the feet might beare y verses
   Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare
themselues without the verse, and therefore stood lamely
in the verse
   Cel. But didst thou heare without wondering, how
thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon these trees?
  Ros. I was seuen of the nine daies out of the wonder,
before you came: for looke heere what I found on a
Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time
that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember
   Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?
  Ros. Is it a man?
  Cel. And a chaine that you once wore about his neck:
change you colour?
  Ros. I pre'thee who?
  Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to
meete; but Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes,
and so encounter
   Ros. Nay, but who is it?
  Cel. Is it possible?
  Ros. Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence,
tell me who it is
   Cel. O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull
wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out
of all hooping
   Ros. Good my complection, dost thou think though
I am caparison'd like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in
my disposition? One inch of delay more, is a South-sea
of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickely, and
speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou
might'st powre this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as
Wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle: either too
much at once, or none at all. I pre'thee take the Corke
out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings
   Cel. So you may put a man in your belly
   Ros. Is he of Gods making? What manner of man?
Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?
  Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard
   Ros. Why God will send more, if the man will bee
thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou
delay me not the knowledge of his chin
   Cel. It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlers
heeles, and your heart, both in an instant
   Ros. Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake sadde
brow, and true maid
   Cel. I'faith (Coz) tis he
   Ros. Orlando?
  Cel. Orlando
   Ros. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet &
hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What sayde
he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes hee
heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he? How
parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him againe?
Answer me in one word
   Cel. You must borrow me Gargantuas mouth first:
'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages size, to
say I and no, to these particulars, is more then to answer
in a Catechisme
   Ros. But doth he know that I am in this Forrest, and
in mans apparrell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day
he Wrastled?
  Cel. It is as easie to count Atomies as to resolue the
propositions of a Louer: but take a taste of my finding
him, and rellish it with good obseruance. I found him
vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne
   Ros. It may wel be cal'd Ioues tree, when it droppes
forth fruite
   Cel. Giue me audience, good Madam
   Ros. Proceed
   Cel. There lay hee stretch'd along like a Wounded
   Ros. Though it be pittie to see such a sight, it well
becomes the ground
   Cel. Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuettes
vnseasonably. He was furnish'd like a Hunter
   Ros. O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart
   Cel. I would sing my song without a burthen, thou
bring'st me out of tune
   Ros. Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke,
I must speake: sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando & Iaques.
  Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?
  Ros. 'Tis he, slinke by, and note him
   Iaq. I thanke you for your company, but good faith
I had as liefe haue beene my selfe alone
   Orl. And so had I: but yet for fashion sake
I thanke you too, for your societie
   Iaq. God buy you, let's meet as little as we can
   Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers
   Iaq. I pray you marre no more trees with Writing
Loue-songs in their barkes
   Orl. I pray you marre no moe of my verses with reading
them ill-fauouredly
   Iaq. Rosalinde is your loues name?
  Orl. Yes, Iust
   Iaq. I do not like her name
   Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she
was christen'd
   Iaq. What stature is she of?
  Orl. Iust as high as my heart
   Iaq. You are ful of prety answers: haue you not bin acquainted
with goldsmiths wiues, & cond the[m] out of rings
  Orl. Not so: but I answer you right painted cloath,
from whence you haue studied your questions
   Iaq. You haue a nimble wit; I thinke 'twas made of
Attalanta's heeles. Will you sitte downe with me, and
wee two, will raile against our Mistris the world, and all
   Orl. I wil chide no breather in the world but my selfe
against whom I know most faults
   Iaq. The worst fault you haue, is to be in loue
   Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best vertue:
I am wearie of you
   Iaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a Foole, when I
   Orl. He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, and
you shall see him
   Iaq. There I shal see mine owne figure
   Orl. Which I take to be either a foole, or a Cipher
   Iaq. Ile tarrie no longer with you, farewell good signior
   Orl. I am glad of your departure: Adieu good Monsieur
   Ros. I wil speake to him like a sawcie Lacky, and vnder
that habit play the knaue with him, do you hear Forrester
   Orl. Verie wel, what would you?
  Ros. I pray you, what i'st a clocke?
  Orl. You should aske me what time o' day: there's no
clocke in the Forrest
   Ros. Then there is no true Louer in the Forrest, else
sighing euerie minute, and groaning euerie houre wold
detect the lazie foot of time, as wel as a clocke
   Orl. And why not the swift foote of time? Had not
that bin as proper?
  Ros. By no meanes sir; Time trauels in diuers paces,
with diuers persons: Ile tel you who Time ambles withall,
who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal,
and who he stands stil withall
   Orl. I prethee, who doth he trot withal?
  Ros. Marry he trots hard with a yong maid, between
the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemnizd:
if the interim be but a sennight, Times pace is so hard,
that it seemes the length of seuen yeare
   Orl. Who ambles Time withal?
  Ros. With a Priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man
that hath not the Gowt: for the one sleepes easily because
he cannot study, and the other liues merrily, because
he feeles no paine: the one lacking the burthen of
leane and wasteful Learning; the other knowing no burthen
of heauie tedious penurie. These Time ambles
   Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?
  Ros. With a theefe to the gallowes: for though hee
go as softly as foot can fall, he thinkes himselfe too soon
   Orl. Who staies it stil withal?
  Ros. With Lawiers in the vacation: for they sleepe
betweene Terme and Terme, and then they perceiue not
how time moues
   Orl. Where dwel you prettie youth?
  Ros. With this Shepheardesse my sister: heere in the
skirts of the Forrest, like fringe vpon a petticoat
   Orl. Are you natiue of this place?
  Ros. As the Conie that you see dwell where shee is
   Orl. Your accent is something finer, then you could
purchase in so remoued a dwelling
   Ros. I haue bin told so of many: but indeed, an olde
religious Vnckle of mine taught me to speake, who was
in his youth an inland man, one that knew Courtship too
well: for there he fel in loue. I haue heard him read many
Lectors against it, and I thanke God, I am not a Woman
to be touch'd with so many giddie offences as hee
hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal
   Orl. Can you remember any of the principall euils,
that he laid to the charge of women?
  Ros. There were none principal, they were all like
one another, as halfepence are, euerie one fault seeming
monstrous, til his fellow-fault came to match it
   Orl. I prethee recount some of them
   Ros. No: I wil not cast away my physick, but on those
that are sicke. There is a man haunts the Forrest, that abuses
our yong plants with caruing Rosalinde on their
barkes; hangs Oades vpon Hauthornes, and Elegies on
brambles; all (forsooth) defying the name of Rosalinde.
If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would giue him
some good counsel, for he seemes to haue the Quotidian
of Loue vpon him
   Orl. I am he that is so Loue-shak'd, I pray you tel
me your remedie
   Ros. There is none of my Vnckles markes vpon you:
he taught me how to know a man in loue: in which cage
of rushes, I am sure you art not prisoner
   Orl. What were his markes?
  Ros. A leane cheeke, which you haue not: a blew eie
and sunken, which you haue not: an vnquestionable spirit,
which you haue not: a beard neglected, which you
haue not: (but I pardon you for that, for simply your hauing
in beard, is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your
hose should be vngarter'd, your bonnet vnbanded, your
sleeue vnbutton'd, your shoo vnti'de, and euerie thing
about you, demonstrating a carelesse desolation: but you
are no such man; you are rather point deuice in your
accoustrements,
as louing your selfe, then seeming the Louer
of any other
   Orl. Faire youth, I would I could make thee beleeue I Loue
   Ros. Me beleeue it? You may assoone make her that
you Loue beleeue it, which I warrant she is apter to do,
then to confesse she do's: that is one of the points, in the
which women stil giue the lie to their consciences. But
in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the
Trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired?
  Orl. I sweare to thee youth, by the white hand of
Rosalind, I am that he, that vnfortunate he
   Ros. But are you so much in loue, as your rimes speak?
  Orl. Neither rime nor reason can expresse how much
   Ros. Loue is meerely a madnesse, and I tel you, deserues
as wel a darke house, and a whip, as madmen do:
and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured, is
that the Lunacie is so ordinarie, that the whippers are in
loue too: yet I professe curing it by counsel
   Orl. Did you euer cure any so?
  Ros. Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to imagine
me his Loue, his Mistris: and I set him euerie day
to woe me. At which time would I, being but a moonish
youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and
liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, ful
of teares, full of smiles; for euerie passion something, and
for no passion truly any thing, as boyes and women are
for the most part, cattle of this colour: would now like
him, now loath him: then entertaine him, then forswear
him: now weepe for him, then spit at him; that I draue
my Sutor from his mad humor of loue, to a liuing humor
of madnes, w was to forsweare the ful stream of y world,
and to liue in a nooke meerly Monastick: and thus I cur'd
him, and this way wil I take vpon mee to wash your Liuer
as cleane as a sound sheepes heart, that there shal not
be one spot of Loue in't
   Orl. I would not be cured, youth
   Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind,
and come euerie day to my Coat, and woe me
   Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will; Tel me
   Ros. Go with me to it, and Ile shew it you: and by
the way, you shal tell me, where in the Forrest you liue:
  Orl. With all my heart, good youth
   Ros. Nay, you must call mee Rosalind: Come sister,
will you go?
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Clowne, Audrey, & Iaques.
  Clo. Come apace good Audrey, I wil fetch vp your
Goates, Audrey: and how Audrey am I the man yet?
Doth my simple feature content you?
  Aud. Your features, Lord warrant vs: what features?
  Clo. I am heere with thee, and thy Goats, as the most
capricious Poet honest Ouid was among the Gothes
   Iaq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worse then Ioue in
a thatch'd house
   Clo. When a mans verses cannot be vnderstood, nor
a mans good wit seconded with the forward childe, vnderstanding:
it strikes a man more dead then a great reckoning
in a little roome: truly, I would the Gods hadde
made thee poeticall
   Aud. I do not know what Poetical is: is it honest in
deed and word: is it a true thing?
  Clo. No trulie: for the truest poetrie is the most faining,
and Louers are giuen to Poetrie: and what they
sweare in Poetrie, may be said as Louers, they do feigne
   Aud. Do you wish then that the Gods had made me
  Clow. I do truly: for thou swear'st to me thou art honest:
Now if thou wert a Poet, I might haue some hope
thou didst feigne
   Aud. Would you not haue me honest?
  Clo. No truly, vnlesse thou wert hard fauour'd: for
honestie coupled to beautie, is to haue Honie a sawce to
   Iaq. A materiall foole
   Aud. Well, I am not faire, and therefore I pray the
Gods make me honest
   Clo. Truly, and to cast away honestie vppon a foule
slut, were to put good meate into an vncleane dish
   Aud. I am not a slut, though I thanke the Goddes I
   Clo. Well, praised be the Gods, for thy foulnesse; sluttishnesse
may come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee,
I wil marrie thee: and to that end, I haue bin with Sir
Oliuer Mar-text, the Vicar of the next village, who hath
promis'd to meete me in this place of the Forrest, and to
   Iaq. I would faine see this meeting
   Aud. Wel, the Gods giue vs ioy
   Clo. Amen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart,
stagger in this attempt: for heere wee haue no Temple
but the wood, no assembly but horne-beasts. But what
though? Courage. As hornes are odious, they are necessarie.
It is said, many a man knowes no end of his goods;
right: Many a man has good Hornes, and knows no end
of them. Well, that is the dowrie of his wife, 'tis none
of his owne getting; hornes, euen so poore men alone:
No, no, the noblest Deere hath them as huge as the Rascall:
Is the single man therefore blessed? No, as a wall'd
Towne is more worthier then a village, so is the forehead
of a married man, more honourable then the bare
brow of a Batcheller: and by how much defence is better
then no skill, by so much is a horne more precious
then to want.
Enter Sir Oliuer Mar-text.
Heere comes Sir Oliuer: Sir Oliuer Mar-text you are
wel met. Will you dispatch vs heere vnder this tree, or
shal we go with you to your Chappell?
  Ol. Is there none heere to giue the woman?
  Clo. I wil not take her on guift of any man
   Ol. Truly she must be giuen, or the marriage is not
   Iaq. Proceed, proceede: Ile giue her
   Clo. Good euen good Mr what ye cal't: how do you
Sir, you are verie well met: goddild you for your last
companie, I am verie glad to see you, euen a toy in hand
heere Sir: Nay, pray be couer'd
   Iaq. Wil you be married, Motley?
  Clo. As the Oxe hath his bow sir, the horse his curb,
and the Falcon her bels, so man hath his desires, and as
Pigeons bill, so wedlocke would be nibling
   Iaq. And wil you (being a man of your breeding) be
married vnder a bush like a begger? Get you to church,
and haue a good Priest that can tel you what marriage is,
this fellow wil but ioyne you together, as they ioyne
Wainscot, then one of you wil proue a shrunke pannell,
and like greene timber, warpe, warpe
   Clo. I am not in the minde, but I were better to bee
married of him then of another, for he is not like to marrie
me wel: and not being wel married, it wil be a good
excuse for me heereafter, to leaue my wife
   Iaq. Goe thou with mee,
And let me counsel thee
   Ol. Come sweete Audrey,
We must be married, or we must liue in baudrey:
Farewel good Mr Oliuer: Not O sweet Oliuer, O braue
Oliuer leaue me not behind thee: But winde away, bee
gone I say, I wil not to wedding with thee
   Ol. 'Tis no matter; Ne're a fantastical knaue of them
all shal flout me out of my calling.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Rosalind & Celia.
  Ros. Neuer talke to me, I wil weepe
   Cel. Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to consider,
that teares do not become a man
   Ros. But haue I not cause to weepe?
  Cel. As good cause as one would desire,
Therefore weepe
   Ros. His very haire
Is of the dissembling colour
   Cel. Something browner then Iudasses:
Marrie his kisses are Iudasses owne children
   Ros. I'faith his haire is of a good colour
   Cel. An excellent colour:
Your Chessenut was euer the onely colour:
  Ros. And his kissing is as ful of sanctitie,
As the touch of holy bread
   Cel. Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a
Nun of winters sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie,
the very yce of chastity is in them
   Rosa. But why did hee sweare hee would come this
morning, and comes not?
  Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him
   Ros. Doe you thinke so?
  Cel. Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purse, nor a horse-stealer,
but for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him as
concaue as a couered goblet, or a Worme-eaten nut
   Ros. Not true in loue?
  Cel. Yes, when he is in, but I thinke he is not in
   Ros. You haue heard him sweare downright he was
   Cel. Was, is not is: besides, the oath of Louer is no
stronger then the word of a Tapster, they are both the
confirmer of false reckonings, he attends here in the forrest
on the Duke your father
   Ros. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question
with him: he askt me of what parentage I was; I
told him of as good as he, so he laugh'd and let mee goe.
But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is such a man
  Cel. O that's a braue man, hee writes braue verses,
speakes braue words, sweares braue oathes, and breakes
them brauely, quite trauers athwart the heart of his louer,
as a puisny Tilter, y spurs his horse but on one side,
breakes his staffe like a noble goose; but all's braue that
youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes heere?
Enter Corin.
  Corin. Mistresse and Master, you haue oft enquired
After the Shepheard that complain'd of loue,
Who you saw sitting by me on the Turph,
Praising the proud disdainfull Shepherdesse
That was his Mistresse
   Cel. Well: and what of him?
  Cor. If you will see a pageant truely plaid
Betweene the pale complexion of true Loue,
And the red glowe of scorne and prowd disdaine,
Goe hence a little, and I shall conduct you
If you will marke it
   Ros. O come, let vs remoue,
The sight of Louers feedeth those in loue:
Bring vs to this sight, and you shall say
Ile proue a busie actor in their play.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Siluius and Phebe.
  Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not scorne me, do not Phebe
Say that you loue me not, but say not so
In bitternesse; the common executioner
Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard
Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck,
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops?
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.
  Phe. I would not be thy executioner,
I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee:
Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye,
'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,
That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers.
Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe,
Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame,
Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:
Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee,
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remaines
Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush
The Cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyes
Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes
That can doe hurt
   Sil. O deere Phebe,
If euer (as that euer may be neere)
You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie,
Then shall you know the wounds inuisible
That Loues keene arrows make
   Phe. But till that time
Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not,
As till that time I shall not pitty thee
   Ros. And why I pray you? who might be your mother
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Ouer the wretched? what though you haue no beauty
As by my faith, I see no more in you
Then without Candle may goe darke to bed:
Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse?
Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me?
I see no more in you then in the ordinary
Of Natures sale-worke? 'ods my little life,
I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:
No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it,
'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke silke haire,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheeke of creame
That can entame my spirits to your worship:
You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine,
You are a thousand times a properer man
Then she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as you
That makes the world full of ill-fauourd children:
'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees her selfe more proper
Then any of her lineaments can show her:
But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your knees
And thanke heauen, fasting, for a good mans loue;
For I must tell you friendly in your eare,
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer,
Foule is most foule, being foule to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell
   Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together,
I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe
   Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, & shee'll
Fall in loue with my anger. If it be so, as fast
As she answeres thee with frowning lookes, ile sauce
Her with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me?
  Phe. For no ill will I beare you
   Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee,
For I am falser then vowes made in wine:
Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house,
'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:
Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard:
Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him better
And be not proud, though all the world could see,
None could be so abus'd in sight as hee.
Come, to our flocke,
  Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might,
Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first sight?
  Sil. Sweet Phebe
   Phe. Hah: what saist thou Siluius?
  Sil. Sweet Phebe pitty me
   Phe. Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius
   Sil. Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be:
If you doe sorrow at my griefe in loue,
By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefe
Were both extermin'd
   Phe. Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?
  Sil. I would haue you
   Phe. Why that were couetousnesse:
Siluius; the time was, that I hated thee;
And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue,
But since that thou canst talke of loue so well,
Thy company, which erst was irkesome to me
I will endure; and Ile employ thee too:
But doe not looke for further recompence
Then thine owne gladnesse, that thou art employd
   Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my loue,
And I in such a pouerty of grace,
That I shall thinke it a most plenteous crop
To gleane the broken eares after the man
That the maine haruest reapes: loose now and then
A scattred smile, and that Ile liue vpon
   Phe. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yerewhile?
  Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft,
And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds
That the old Carlot once was Master of
   Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him,
'Tis but a peeuish boy, yet he talkes well,
But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speakes them pleases those that heare:
It is a pretty youth, not very prettie,
But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him;
Hee'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion: and faster then his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp:
He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall:
His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well:
There was a pretty rednesse in his lip,
A little riper, and more lustie red
Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the difference
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled Damaske.
There be some women Siluius, had they markt him
In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere
To fall in loue with him: but for my part
I loue him not, nor hate him not: and yet
Haue more cause to hate him then to loue him,
For what had he to doe to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke,
And now I am remembred, scorn'd at me:
I maruell why I answer'd not againe,
But that's all one: omittance is no quittance:
Ile write to him a very tanting Letter,
And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou Siluius?
  Sil. Phebe, with all my heart
   Phe. Ile write it strait:
The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and passing short;
Goe with me Siluius.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Rosalind, and Celia, and Iaques.
  Iaq. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted
   Ros They say you are a melancholly fellow
   Iaq. I am so: I doe loue it better then laughing
   Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abhominable
fellowes, and betray themselues to euery moderne
censure, worse then drunkards
   Iaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing
   Ros. Why then 'tis good to be a poste
   Iaq. I haue neither the Schollers melancholy, which
is emulation: nor the Musitians, which is fantasticall;
nor the Courtiers, which is proud: nor the Souldiers,
which is ambitious: nor the Lawiers, which is politick:
nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Louers, which
is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine owne, compounded
of many simples, extracted from many obiects,
and indeed the sundrie contemplation of my trauells, in
which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous
   Ros. A Traueller: by my faith you haue great reason
to be sad: I feare you haue sold your owne Lands,
to see other mens; then to haue seene much, and to haue
nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands
   Iaq. Yes, I haue gain'd my experience.
Enter Orlando.
  Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather
haue a foole to make me merrie, then experience to
make me sad, and to trauaile for it too
   Orl. Good day, and happinesse, deere Rosalind
   Iaq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blanke
   Ros. Farewell Mounsieur Trauellor: looke you
lispe, and weare strange suites; disable all the benefits
of your owne Countrie: be out of loue with your
natiuitie, and almost chide God for making you that
countenance you are; or I will scarce thinke you haue
swam in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where
haue you bin all this while? you a louer? and you
serue me such another tricke, neuer come in my sight
   Orl. My faire Rosalind, I come within an houre of my
   Ros. Breake an houres promise in loue? hee that
will diuide a minute into a thousand parts, and breake
but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs
of loue, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapt
him oth' shoulder, but Ile warrant him heart hole
   Orl. Pardon me deere Rosalind
   Ros. Nay, and you be so tardie, come no more in my
sight, I had as liefe be woo'd of a Snaile
   Orl. Of a Snaile?
  Ros. I, of a Snaile: for though he comes slowly, hee
carries his house on his head; a better ioyncture I thinke
then you make a woman: besides, he brings his destinie
   Orl. What's that?
  Ros. Why hornes: w such as you are faine to be beholding
to your wiues for: but he comes armed in his
fortune, and preuents the slander of his wife
   Orl. Vertue is no horne-maker: and my Rosalind is
   Ros. And I am your Rosalind
   Cel. It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rosalind
of a better leere then you
   Ros. Come, wooe me, wooe mee: for now I am in a
holy-day humor, and like enough to consent: What
would you say to me now, and I were your verie, verie
  Orl. I would kisse before I spoke
   Ros. Nay, you were better speake first, and when you
were grauel'd, for lacke of matter, you might take occasion
to kisse: verie good Orators when they are out,
they will spit, and for louers, lacking (God warne vs)
matter, the cleanliest shift is to kisse
   Orl. How if the kisse be denide?
  Ros. Then she puts you to entreatie, and there begins
   Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloued
  Ros. Marrie that should you if I were your Mistris,
or I should thinke my honestie ranker then my wit
   Orl. What, of my suite?
  Ros. Not out of your apparrell, and yet out of your
Am not I your Rosalind?
  Orl. I take some ioy to say you are, because I would
be talking of her
   Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not haue you
   Orl. Then in mine owne person, I die
   Ros. No faith, die by Attorney: the poore world is
almost six thousand yeeres old, and in all this time there
was not anie man died in his owne person (videlicet) in
a loue cause: Troilous had his braines dash'd out with a
Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to die before,
and he is one of the patternes of loue. Leander, he would
haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had turn'd
Nun; if it had not bin for a hot Midsomer-night, for
(good youth) he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont,
and being taken with the crampe, was droun'd,
and the foolish Chronoclers of that age, found it was
Hero of Cestos. But these are all lies, men haue died
from time to time, and wormes haue eaten them, but not
   Orl. I would not haue my right Rosalind of this mind,
for I protest her frowne might kill me
   Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a flie: but come,
now I will be your Rosalind in a more comming-on disposition:
and aske me what you will, I will grant it
   Orl. Then loue me Rosalind
   Ros. Yes faith will I, fridaies and saterdaies, and all
   Orl. And wilt thou haue me?
  Ros. I, and twentie such
   Orl. What saiest thou?
  Ros. Are you not good?
  Orl. I hope so
   Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a
good thing: Come sister, you shall be the Priest, and
marrie vs: giue me your hand Orlando: What doe you
  Orl. Pray thee marrie vs
   Cel. I cannot say the words
   Ros. You must begin, will you Orlando
   Cel. Goe too: wil you Orlando, haue to wife this Rosalind?
  Orl. I will
   Ros. I, but when?
  Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marrie vs
   Ros. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for
   Orl. I take thee Rosalind for wife
   Ros. I might aske you for your Commission,
But I doe take thee Orlando for my husband: there's a
girle goes before the Priest, and certainely a Womans
thought runs before her actions
   Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd
   Ros. Now tell me how long you would haue her, after
you haue possest her?
  Orl. For euer, and a day
   Ros. Say a day, without the euer: no, no Orlando, men
are Aprill when they woe, December when they wed:
Maides are May when they are maides, but the sky changes
when they are wiues: I will bee more iealous of
thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more
clamorous then a Parrat against raine, more new-fangled
then an ape, more giddy in my desires, then a monkey:
I will weepe for nothing, like Diana in the Fountaine,
& I wil do that when you are dispos'd to be merry:
I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd
   Orl. But will my Rosalind doe so?
  Ros. By my life, she will doe as I doe
   Orl. O but she is wise
   Ros. Or else shee could not haue the wit to doe this:
the wiser, the waywarder: make the doores vpon a womans
wit, and it will out at the casement: shut that, and
'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill flie with the
smoake out at the chimney
   Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might
say, wit whether wil't?
  Ros. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till you
met your wiues wit going to your neighbours bed
   Orl. And what wit could wit haue, to excuse that?
  Rosa. Marry to say, she came to seeke you there: you
shall neuer take her without her answer, vnlesse you take
her without her tongue: o that woman that cannot
make her fault her husbands occasion, let her neuer nurse
her childe her selfe, for she will breed it like a foole
   Orl. For these two houres Rosalinde, I wil leaue thee
   Ros. Alas, deere loue, I cannot lacke thee two houres
   Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock
I will be with thee againe
   Ros. I, goe your waies, goe your waies: I knew what
you would proue, my friends told mee as much, and I
thought no lesse: that flattering tongue of yours wonne
me: 'tis but one cast away, and so come death: two o'
clocke is your howre
   Orl. I, sweet Rosalind
   Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God
mend mee, and by all pretty oathes that are not dangerous,
if you breake one iot of your promise, or come one
minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the most
patheticall breake-promise, and the most hollow louer,
and the most vnworthy of her you call Rosalinde, that
may bee chosen out of the grosse band of the vnfaithfull:
therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise
   Orl. With no lesse religion, then if thou wert indeed
my Rosalind: so adieu
   Ros. Well, Time is the olde Iustice that examines all
such offenders, and let time try: adieu.
  Cel. You haue simply misus'd our sexe in your loue-prate:
we must haue your doublet and hose pluckt ouer
your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done
to her owne neast
   Ros. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou
didst know how many fathome deepe I am in loue: but
it cannot bee sounded: my affection hath an vnknowne
bottome, like the Bay of Portugall
   Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as fast as you poure
affection in, it runs out
   Ros. No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was
begot of thought, conceiu'd of spleene, and borne of
madnesse, that blinde rascally boy, that abuses euery
ones eyes, because his owne are out, let him bee iudge,
how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be
out of the sight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a shadow, and
sigh till he come
   Cel. And Ile sleepe.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters.
  Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?
  Lord. Sir, it was I
   Iaq. Let's present him to the Duke like a Romane
Conquerour, and it would doe well to set the Deares
horns vpon his head, for a branch of victory; haue you
no song Forrester for this purpose?
  Lord. Yes Sir
   Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, so it
make noyse enough.
Musicke, Song.
What shall he haue that kild the Deare?
His Leather skin, and hornes to weare:
Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen;
Take thou no scorne to weare the horne,
It was a crest ere thou wast borne,
Thy fathers father wore it,
And thy father bore it,
The horne, the horne, the lusty horne,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorne.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
  Ros. How say you now, is it not past two a clock?
And heere much Orlando
   Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain,
Enter Siluius.
He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth
To sleepe: looke who comes heere
   Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth,
My gentle Phebe, did bid me giue you this:
I know not the contents, but as I guesse
By the sterne brow, and waspish action
Which she did vse, as she was writing of it,
It beares an angry tenure; pardon me,
I am but as a guiltlesse messenger
   Ros. Patience her selfe would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer, beare this, beare all:
Shee saies I am not faire, that I lacke manners,
She calls me proud, and that she could not loue me
Were man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will,
Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt,
Why writes she so to me? well Shepheard, well,
This is a Letter of your owne deuice
   Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents,
Phebe did write it
   Ros. Come, come, you are a foole,
And turn'd into the extremity of loue.
I saw her hand, she has a leatherne hand,
A freestone coloured hand: I verily did thinke
That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands:
She has a huswiues hand, but that's no matter:
I say she neuer did inuent this letter,
This is a mans inuention, and his hand
   Sil. Sure it is hers
   Ros. Why, tis a boysterous and a cruell stile,
A stile for challengers: why, she defies me,
Like Turke to Christian: womens gentle braine
Could not drop forth such giant rude inuention,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Then in their countenance: will you heare the letter?
  Sil. So please you, for I neuer heard it yet:
Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie
   Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant writes.
Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd?
That a maidens heart hath burn'd.
Can a woman raile thus?
  Sil. Call you this railing?
Why, thy godhead laid a part,
War'st thou with a womans heart?
Did you euer heare such railing?
Whiles the eye of man did wooe me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me a beast.
If the scorne of your bright eine
Haue power to raise such loue in mine,
Alacke, in me, what strange effect
Would they worke in milde aspect?
Whiles you chid me, I did loue,
How then might your praiers moue?
He that brings this loue to thee,
Little knowes this Loue in me:
And by him seale vp thy minde,
Whether that thy youth and kinde
Will the faithfull offer take
Of me, and all that I can make,
Or else by him my loue denie,
And then Ile studie how to die
   Sil. Call you this chiding?
  Cel. Alas poore Shepheard
   Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty:
wilt thou loue such a woman? what to make thee an instrument,
and play false straines vpon thee? not to be endur'd.
Well, goe your way to her; (for I see Loue hath
made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she
loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will
neuer haue her, vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a
true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more
Enter Oliuer.
  Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you | know)
Where in the Purlews of this Forrest, stands
A sheep-coat, fenc'd about with Oliue-trees
   Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom
The ranke of Oziers, by the murmuring streame
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place:
But at this howre, the house doth keepe it selfe,
There's none within
   Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description,
Such garments, and such yeeres: the boy is faire,
Of femall fauour, and bestowes himselfe
Like a ripe sister: the woman low
And browner then her brother: are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?
  Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are
   Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth hee calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloudy napkin; are you he?
  Ros. I am: what must we vnderstand by this?
  Oli. Some of my shame, if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkercher was stain'd
   Cel. I pray you tell it
   Oli. When last the yong Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to returne againe
Within an houre, and pacing through the Forrest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancie,
Loe what befell: he threw his eye aside,
And marke what obiect did present it selfe
Vnder an old Oake, whose bows were moss'd with age
And high top, bald with drie antiquitie:
A wretched ragged man, ore-growne with haire
Lay sleeping on his back; about his necke
A greene and guilded snake had wreath'd it selfe,
Who with her head, nimble in threats approach'd
The opening of his mouth: but sodainly
Seeing Orlando, it vnlink'd it selfe,
And with indented glides, did slip away
Into a bush, vnder which bushes shade
A Lyonnesse, with vdders all drawne drie,
Lay cowching head on ground, with catlike watch
When that the sleeping man should stirre; for 'tis
The royall disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing, that doth seeme as dead:
This seene, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother
   Cel. O I haue heard him speake of that same brother,
And he did render him the most vnnaturall
That liu'd amongst men
   Oli. And well he might so doe,
For well I know he was vnnaturall
   Ros. But to Orlando: did he leaue him there
Food to the suck'd and hungry Lyonnesse?
  Oli. Twice did he turne his backe, and purpos'd so:
But kindnesse, nobler euer then reuenge,
And Nature stronger then his iust occasion,
Made him giue battell to the Lyonnesse:
Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked
   Cel. Are you his brother?
  Ros. Was't you he rescu'd?
  Cel. Was't you that did so oft contriue to kill him?
  Oli. 'Twas I: but 'tis not I: I doe not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conuersion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am
   Ros. But for the bloody napkin?
  Oli. By and by:
When from the first to last betwixt vs two,
Teares our recountments had most kindely bath'd,
As how I came into that Desert place.
In briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gaue me fresh aray, and entertainment,
Committing me vnto my brothers loue,
Who led me instantly vnto his Caue,
There stript himselfe, and heere vpon his arme
The Lyonnesse had torne some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cride in fainting vpon Rosalinde.
Briefe, I recouer'd him, bound vp his wound,
And after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to giue this napkin
Died in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard youth,
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind
   Cel. Why how now Ganimed, sweet Ganimed
   Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on bloud
   Cel. There is more in it; Cosen Ganimed
   Oli. Looke, he recouers
   Ros. I would I were at home
   Cel. Wee'll lead you thither:
I pray you will you take him by the arme
   Oli. Be of good cheere youth: you a man?
You lacke a mans heart
   Ros. I doe so, I confesse it:
Ah, sirra, a body would thinke this was well counterfeited,
I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfeited:
   Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great testimony
in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest
   Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you
   Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to
   Ros. So I doe: but yfaith, I should haue beene a woman
   Cel. Come, you looke paler and paler: pray you draw
homewards: good sir, goe with vs
   Oli. That will I: for I must beare answere backe
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind
   Ros. I shall deuise something: but I pray you commend
my counterfeiting to him: will you goe?
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Awdrie.
  Clow. We shall finde a time Awdrie, patience gentle
   Awd. Faith the Priest was good enough, for all the
olde gentlemans saying
   Clow. A most wicked Sir Oliuer, Awdrie, a most vile
Mar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth heere in the
Forrest layes claime to you
   Awd. I, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in mee
in the world: here comes the man you meane.
Enter William.
  Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to see a Clowne, by
my troth, we that haue good wits, haue much to answer
for: we shall be flouting: we cannot hold
   Will. Good eu'n Audrey
   Aud. God ye good eu'n William
   Will. And good eu'n to you Sir
   Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Couer thy head, couer
thy head: Nay prethee bee couer'd. How olde are you
  Will. Fiue and twentie Sir
   Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name William?
  Will. William, sir
   Clo. A faire name. Was't borne i'th Forrest heere?
  Will. I sir, I thanke God
   Clo. Thanke God: A good answer:
  Will. 'Faith sir, so, so
   Cle. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:
and yet it is not, it is but so, so:
Art thou wise?
  Will. I sir, I haue a prettie wit
   Clo. Why, thou saist well. I do now remember a saying:
The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman
knowes himselfe to be a Foole. The Heathen Philosopher,
when he had a desire to eate a Grape, would open
his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby,
that Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open.
You do loue this maid?
  Will. I do sir
   Clo. Giue me your hand: Art thou Learned?
  Will. No sir
   Clo. Then learne this of me, To haue, is to haue. For
it is a figure in Rhetoricke, that drink being powr'd out
of a cup into a glasse, by filling the one, doth empty the
other. For all your Writers do consent, that ipse is hee:
now you are not ipse, for I am he
   Will. Which he sir?
  Clo. He sir, that must marrie this woman: Therefore
you Clowne, abandon: which is in the vulgar, leaue the
societie: which in the boorish, is companie, of this female:
which in the common, is woman: which together,
is, abandon the society of this Female, or Clowne
thou perishest: or to thy better vnderstanding, dyest; or
(to wit) I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into
death, thy libertie into bondage: I will deale in poyson
with thee, or in bastinado, or in steele: I will bandy
with thee in faction, I will ore-run thee with policie: I
will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore tremble
   Aud. Do good William
   Will. God rest you merry sir.
Enter Corin.
  Cor. Our Master and Mistresse seekes you: come away,
   Clo. Trip Audry, trip Audry, I attend,
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Orlando & Oliuer.
  Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you
should like her? that, but seeing, you should loue her?
And louing woo? and wooing, she should graunt? And
will you perseuer to enioy her?
  Ol. Neither call the giddinesse of it in question; the
pouertie of her, the small acquaintance, my sodaine woing,
nor sodaine consenting: but say with mee, I loue
Aliena: say with her, that she loues mee; consent with
both, that we may enioy each other: it shall be to your
good: for my fathers house, and all the reuennew, that
was old Sir Rowlands will I estate vpon you, and heere
liue and die a Shepherd.
Enter Rosalind.
  Orl. You haue my consent.
Let your Wedding be to morrow: thither will I
Inuite the Duke, and all's contented followers:
Go you, and prepare Aliena; for looke you,
Heere comes my Rosalinde
   Ros. God saue you brother
   Ol. And you faire sister
   Ros. Oh my deere Orlando, how it greeues me to see
thee weare thy heart in a scarfe
   Orl. It is my arme
   Ros. I thought thy heart had beene wounded with
the clawes of a Lion
   Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady
   Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeyted
to sound, when he shew'd me your handkercher?
  Orl. I, and greater wonders then that
   Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, tis true: there
was neuer any thing so sodaine, but the sight of two
Rammes, and Cesars Thrasonicall bragge of I came, saw,
and ouercome. For your brother, and my sister, no sooner
met, but they look'd: no sooner look'd, but they
lou'd; no sooner lou'd, but they sigh'd: no sooner sigh'd
but they ask'd one another the reason: no sooner knew
the reason, but they sought the remedie: and in these
degrees, haue they made a paire of staires to marriage,
which they will climbe incontinent, or else bee incontinent
before marriage; they are in the verie wrath of
loue, and they will together. Clubbes cannot part
   Orl. They shall be married to morrow: and I will
bid the Duke to the Nuptiall. But O, how bitter a thing
it is, to looke into happines through another mans eies:
by so much the more shall I to morrow be at the height
of heart heauinesse, by how much I shal thinke my brother
happie, in hauing what he wishes for
   Ros. Why then to morrow, I cannot serue your turne
for Rosalind?
  Orl. I can liue no longer by thinking
   Ros. I will wearie you then no longer with idle talking.
Know of me then (for now I speake to some purpose)
that I know you are a Gentleman of good conceit:
I speake not this, that you should beare a good opinion
of my knowledge: insomuch (I say) I know you are: neither
do I labor for a greater esteeme then may in some
little measure draw a beleefe from you, to do your selfe
good, and not to grace me. Beleeue then, if you please,
that I can do strange things: I haue since I was three
yeare old conuerst with a Magitian, most profound in
his Art, and yet not damnable. If you do loue Rosalinde
so neere the hart, as your gesture cries it out: when your
brother marries Aliena, shall you marrie her. I know into
what straights of Fortune she is driuen, and it is not
impossible to me, if it appeare not inconuenient to you,
to set her before your eyes to morrow, humane as she is,
and without any danger
   Orl. Speak'st thou in sober meanings?
  Ros. By my life I do, which I tender deerly, though
I say I am a Magitian: Therefore put you in your best aray,
bid your friends: for if you will be married to morrow,
you shall: and to Rosalind if you will.
Enter Siluius & Phebe.
Looke, here comes a Louer of mine, and a louer of hers
   Phe. Youth, you haue done me much vngentlenesse,
To shew the letter that I writ to you
   Ros. I care not if I haue: it is my studie
To seeme despightfull and vngentle to you:
you are there followed by a faithful shepheard,
Looke vpon him, loue him: he worships you
   Phe. Good shepheard, tell this youth what 'tis to loue
  Sil. It is to be all made of sighes and teares,
And so am I for Phebe
   Phe. And I for Ganimed
   Orl. And I for Rosalind
   Ros. And I for no woman
   Sil. It is to be all made of faith and seruice,
And so am I for Phebe
   Phe. And I for Ganimed
   Orl. And I for Rosalind
   Ros. And I for no woman
   Sil. It is to be all made of fantasie,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes,
All adoration, dutie, and obseruance,
All humblenesse, all patience, and impatience,
All puritie, all triall, all obseruance:
And so am I for Phebe
   Phe. And so am I for Ganimed
   Orl. And so am I for Rosalind
   Ros. And so am I for no woman
   Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
  Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
  Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
  Ros. Why do you speake too, Why blame you mee
   Orl. To her, that is not heere, nor doth not heare
   Ros. Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling
of Irish Wolues against the Moone: I will helpe you
if I can: I would loue you if I could: To morrow meet
me altogether: I wil marrie you, if euer I marrie Woman,
and Ile be married to morrow: I will satisfie you,
if euer I satisfi'd man, and you shall bee married to morrow.
I wil content you, if what pleases you contents
you, and you shal be married to morrow: As you loue
Rosalind meet, as you loue Phebe meet, and as I loue no
woman, Ile meet: so fare you wel: I haue left you commands
   Sil. Ile not faile, if I liue
   Phe. Nor I
   Orl. Nor I.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Clowne and Audrey.
  Clo. To morrow is the ioyfull day Audrey, to morow
will we be married
   Aud. I do desire it with all my heart: and I hope it is
no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of y world?
Heere come two of the banish'd Dukes Pages.
Enter two Pages.
  1.Pa. Wel met honest Gentleman
   Clo. By my troth well met: come, sit, sit, and a song
   2.Pa. We are for you, sit i'th middle
   1.Pa. Shal we clap into't roundly, without hauking,
or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the onely
prologues to a bad voice
   2.Pa. I faith, y'faith, and both in a tune like two
gipsies on a horse.
It was a Louer, and his lasse,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o're the greene corne feild did passe,
In the spring time, the onely pretty rang time.
When Birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
Sweet Louers loue the spring,
And therefore take the present time.
With a hey, & a ho, and a hey nonino,
For loue is crowned with the prime.
In spring time, &c.
Betweene the acres of the Rie,
With a hey, and a ho, & a hey nonino:
These prettie Country folks would lie.
In spring time, &c.
This Carroll they began that houre,
With a hey and a ho, & a hey nonino:
How that a life was but a Flower,
In spring time, &c
   Clo. Truly yong Gentlemen, though there was no
great matter in the dittie, yet y note was very vntunable
  1.Pa. you are deceiu'd Sir, we kept time, we lost not
   Clo. By my troth yes: I count it but time lost to heare
such a foolish song. God buy you, and God mend your
voices. Come Audrie.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Duke Senior, Amyens, Iaques, Orlando, Oliuer, Celia.
  Du.Sen. Dost thou beleeue Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised?
  Orl. I sometimes do beleeue, and somtimes do not,
As those that feare they hope, and know they feare.
Enter Rosalinde, Siluius, & Phebe.
  Ros. Patience once more, whiles our co[m]pact is vrg'd:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalinde,
You wil bestow her on Orlando heere?
  Du.Se. That would I, had I kingdoms to giue with hir
   Ros. And you say you wil haue her, when I bring hir?
  Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdomes King
   Ros. You say, you'l marrie me, if I be willing
   Phe. That will I, should I die the houre after
   Ros. But if you do refuse to marrie me,
You'l giue your selfe to this most faithfull Shepheard
   Phe. So is the bargaine
   Ros. You say that you'l haue Phebe if she will
   Sil. Though to haue her and death, were both one
   Ros. I haue promis'd to make all this matter euen:
Keepe you your word, O Duke, to giue your daughter,
You yours Orlando, to receiue his daughter:
Keepe you your word Phebe, that you'l marrie me,
Or else refusing me to wed this shepheard:
Keepe your word Siluius, that you'l marrie her
If she refuse me, and from hence I go
To make these doubts all euen.
Exit Ros. and Celia.
  Du.Sen. I do remember in this shepheard boy,
Some liuely touches of my daughters fauour
   Orl. My Lord, the first time that I euer saw him,
Me thought he was a brother to your daughter:
But my good Lord, this Boy is Forrest borne,
And hath bin tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies, by his vnckle,
Whom he reports to be a great Magitian.
Enter Clowne and Audrey.
Obscured in the circle of this Forrest
   Iaq. There is sure another flood toward, and these
couples are comming to the Arke. Here comes a payre
of verie strange beasts, which in all tongues, are call'd
   Clo. Salutation and greeting to you all
   Iaq. Good my Lord, bid him welcome: This is the
Motley-minded Gentleman, that I haue so often met in
the Forrest: he hath bin a Courtier he sweares
   Clo. If any man doubt that, let him put mee to my
purgation, I haue trod a measure, I haue flattred a Lady,
I haue bin politicke with my friend, smooth with mine
enemie, I haue vndone three Tailors, I haue had foure
quarrels, and like to haue fought one
   Iaq. And how was that tane vp?
  Clo. 'Faith we met, and found the quarrel was vpon
the seuenth cause
   Iaq. How seuenth cause? Good my Lord, like this
   Du.Se. I like him very well
   Clo. God'ild you sir, I desire you of the like: I presse
in heere sir, amongst the rest of the Country copulatiues
to sweare, and to forsweare, according as mariage binds
and blood breakes: a poore virgin sir, an il-fauor'd thing
sir, but mine owne, a poore humour of mine sir, to take
that that no man else will: rich honestie dwels like a miser
sir, in a poore house, as your Pearle in your foule oyster
   Du.Se. By my faith, he is very swift, and sententious
  Clo. According to the fooles bolt sir, and such dulcet
   Iaq. But for the seuenth cause. How did you finde
the quarrell on the seuenth cause?
  Clo. Vpon a lye, seuen times remoued: (beare your
bodie more seeming Audry) as thus sir: I did dislike the
cut of a certaine Courtiers beard: he sent me word, if I
said his beard was not cut well, hee was in the minde it
was: this is call'd the retort courteous. If I sent him
word againe, it was not well cut, he wold send me word
he cut it to please himselfe: this is call'd the quip modest.
If againe, it was not well cut, he disabled my iudgment:
this is called, the reply churlish. If againe it was not well
cut, he would answer I spake not true: this is call'd the
reproofe valiant. If againe, it was not well cut, he wold
say, I lie: this is call'd the counter-checke quarrelsome:
and so to lye circumstantiall, and the lye direct
   Iaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well
  Clo. I durst go no further then the lye circumstantial:
nor he durst not giue me the lye direct: and so wee measur'd
swords, and parted
   Iaq. Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of
   Clo. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the booke: as you
haue bookes for good manners: I will name you the degrees.
The first, the Retort courteous: the second, the
Quip-modest: the third, the reply Churlish: the fourth,
the Reproofe valiant: the fift, the Counterchecke quarrelsome:
the sixt, the Lye with circumstance: the seauenth,
the Lye direct: all these you may auoyd, but the
Lye direct: and you may auoide that too, with an If. I
knew when seuen Iustices could not take vp a Quarrell,
but when the parties were met themselues, one of them
thought but of an If; as if you saide so, then I saide so:
and they shooke hands, and swore brothers. Your If, is
the onely peace-maker: much vertue in if
   Iaq. Is not this a rare fellow my Lord? He's as good
at any thing, and yet a foole
   Du.Se. He vses his folly like a stalking-horse, and vnder
the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.
Still Musicke.
  Hymen. Then is there mirth in heauen,
When earthly things made eauen
attone together.
Good Duke receiue thy daughter,
Hymen from Heauen brought her,
Yea brought her hether.
That thou mightst ioyne his hand with his,
Whose heart within his bosome is
   Ros. To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours.
To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours
   Du.Se. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter
   Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind
   Phe. If sight & shape be true, why then my loue adieu
  Ros. Ile haue no Father, if you be not he:
Ile haue no Husband, if you be not he:
Nor ne're wed woman, if you be not shee
   Hy. Peace hoa: I barre confusion,
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange euents:
Here's eight that must take hands,
To ioyne in Hymens bands,
If truth holds true contents.
You and you, no crosse shall part;
You and you, are hart in hart:
You, to his loue must accord,
Or haue a Woman to your Lord.
You and you, are sure together,
As the Winter to fowle Weather:
Whiles a Wedlocke Hymne we sing,
Feede your selues with questioning:
That reason, wonder may diminish
How thus we met, and these things finish.
Wedding is great Iunos crowne,
O blessed bond of boord and bed:
'Tis Hymen peoples euerie towne,
High wedlock then be honored:
Honor, high honor and renowne
To Hymen, God of euerie Towne
   Du.Se. O my deere Neece, welcome thou art to me,
Euen daughter welcome, in no lesse degree
   Phe. I wil not eate my word, now thou art mine,
Thy faith, my fancie to thee doth combine.
Enter Second Brother.
  2.Bro. Let me haue audience for a word or two:
I am the second sonne of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this faire assembly.
Duke Frederick hearing how that euerie day
Men of great worth resorted to this forrest,
Addrest a mightie power, which were on foote
In his owne conduct, purposely to take
His brother heere, and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wilde Wood he came;
Where, meeting with an old Religious man,
After some question with him, was conuerted
Both from his enterprize, and from the world:
His crowne bequeathing to his banish'd Brother,
And all their Lands restor'd to him againe
That were with him exil'd. This to be true,
I do engage my life
   Du.Se. Welcome yong man:
Thou offer'st fairely to thy brothers wedding:
To one his lands with-held, and to the other
A land it selfe at large, a potent Dukedome.
First, in this Forrest, let vs do those ends
That heere were well begun, and wel begot:
And after, euery of this happie number
That haue endur'd shrew'd daies, and nights with vs,
Shal share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the measure of their states.
Meane time, forget this new-falne dignitie,
And fall into our Rusticke Reuelrie:
Play Musicke, and you Brides and Bride-groomes all,
With measure heap'd in ioy, to'th Measures fall
   Iaq. Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly,
The Duke hath put on a Religious life,
And throwne into neglect the pompous Court
   2.Bro. He hath
   Iaq. To him will I: out of these conuertites,
There is much matter to be heard, and learn'd:
you to your former Honor, I bequeath
your patience, and your vertue, well deserues it.
you to a loue, that your true faith doth merit:
you to your land, and loue, and great allies:
you to a long, and well-deserued bed:
And you to wrangling, for thy louing voyage
Is but for two moneths victuall'd: So to your pleasures,
I am for other, then for dancing meazures
   Du.Se. Stay, Iaques, stay
   Iaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would haue,
Ile stay to know, at your abandon'd caue.
  Du.Se. Proceed, proceed: wee'l begin these rights,
As we do trust, they'l end in true delights.
  Ros. It is not the fashion to see the Ladie the Epilogue:
but it is no more vnhandsome, then to see the
Lord the Prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs
no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needes no Epilogue.
Yet to good wine they do vse good bushes: and good
playes proue the better by the helpe of good Epilogues:
What a case am I in then, that am neither a good Epilogue,
nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalfe of a
good play? I am not furnish'd like a Begger, therefore
to begge will not become mee. My way is to coniure
you, and Ile begin with the Women. I charge you (O
women) for the loue you beare to men, to like as much
of this Play, as please you: And I charge you (O men)
for the loue you beare to women (as I perceiue by your
simpring, none of you hates them) that betweene you,
and the women, the play may please. If I were a Woman,
I would kisse as many of you as had beards that
pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that
I defi'de not: And I am sure, as many as haue good
beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will for my kind
offer, when I make curt'sie, bid me farewell.
FINIS. As you Like it.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Hamlet
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie 
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can 
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Hamlet
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
   Fran. Barnardo?
   Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre
   Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco
   Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,
And I am sicke at heart
   Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard?
  Fran. Not a Mouse stirring
   Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and
Marcellus, the Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
  Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there?
  Hor. Friends to this ground
   Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane
   Fran. Giue you good night
   Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you?
  Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight.
  Mar. Holla Barnardo
   Bar. Say, what is Horatio there?
  Hor. A peece of him
   Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus
   Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night
   Bar. I haue seene nothing
   Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie,
And will not let beleefe take hold of him
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs,
Therefore I haue intreated him along
With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night,
That if againe this Apparition come,
He may approue our eyes, and speake to it
   Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare
   Bar. Sit downe a-while,
And let vs once againe assaile your eares,
That are so fortified against our Story,
What we two Nights haue seene
   Hor. Well, sit we downe,
And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this
   Barn. Last night of all,
When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole
Had made his course t' illume that part of Heauen
Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfe,
The Bell then beating one
   Mar. Peace, breake thee of:
Enter the Ghost.
Looke where it comes againe
   Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead
   Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio
   Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio
   Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder
  Barn. It would be spoke too
   Mar. Question it Horatio
   Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night,
Together with that Faire and Warlike forme
In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke
Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake
   Mar. It is offended
   Barn. See, it stalkes away
   Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.
Exit the Ghost.
  Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer
   Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale:
Is not this something more then Fantasie?
What thinke you on't?
  Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue
Without the sensible and true auouch
Of mine owne eyes
   Mar. Is it not like the King?
  Hor. As thou art to thy selfe,
Such was the very Armour he had on,
When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted:
So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle
He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice.
'Tis strange
   Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre,
With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch
   Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not:
But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion,
This boades some strange erruption to our State
   Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes
Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch,
So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land,
And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon
And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre:
Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske
Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke,
What might be toward, that this sweaty hast
Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day:
Who is't that can informe me?
  Hor. That can I,
At least the whisper goes so: Our last King,
Whose Image euen but now appear'd to vs,
Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,
(Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate Pride)
Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet,
(For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him)
Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact,
Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie,
Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands
Which he stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror:
Against the which, a Moity competent
Was gaged by our King: which had return'd
To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant
And carriage of the Article designe,
His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras,
Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there,
Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes,
For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize
That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other
(And it doth well appeare vnto our State)
But to recouer of vs by strong hand
And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands
So by his Father lost: and this (I take it)
Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations,
The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head
Of this post-hast, and Romage in the Land.
Enter Ghost againe.
But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe:
Ile crosse it, though it blast me. Stay Illusion:
If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce,
Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me.
If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate
(Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake.
Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life
Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth,
(For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death)
Speake of it. Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus
   Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan?
  Hor. Do, if it will not stand
   Barn. 'Tis heere
   Hor. 'Tis heere
   Mar. 'Tis gone.
We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall
To offer it the shew of Violence,
For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable,
And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery
   Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew
   Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing
Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard,
The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate
Awake the God of Day: and at his warning,
Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre,
Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes
To his Confine. And of the truth heerein,
This present Obiect made probation
   Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke.
Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes
Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated,
The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long:
And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad,
The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike,
No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme:
So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time
   Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it.
But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad,
Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill,
Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice
Let vs impart what we haue seene to night
Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life,
This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him:
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty?
  Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know
Where we shall finde him most conueniently.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet,
Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant.
  King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death
The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted
To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome
To be contracted in one brow of woe:
Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature,
That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him,
Together with remembrance of our selues.
Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene,
Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State,
Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy,
With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye,
With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage,
In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole
Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd
Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone
With this affaire along, for all our Thankes.
Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras,
Holding a weake supposall of our worth;
Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death,
Our State to be disioynt, and out of Frame,
Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage;
He hath not fayl'd to pester vs with Message,
Importing the surrender of those Lands
Lost by his Father: with all Bonds of Law
To our most valiant Brother. So much for him.
Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.
Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting
Thus much the businesse is. We haue heere writ
To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras,
Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares
Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse
His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies,
The Lists, and full proportions are all made
Out of his subiect: and we heere dispatch
You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand,
For bearing of this greeting to old Norway,
Giuing to you no further personall power
To businesse with the King, more then the scope
Of these dilated Articles allow:
Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty
   Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty
   King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.
Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.
And now Laertes, what's the newes with you?
You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes?
You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane,
And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes,
That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking?
The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart,
The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth,
Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father.
What would'st thou haue Laertes?
  Laer. Dread my Lord,
Your leaue and fauour to returne to France,
From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke
To shew my duty in your Coronation,
Yet now I must confesse, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France,
And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon
   King. Haue you your Fathers leaue?
What sayes Pollonius?
  Pol. He hath my Lord:
I do beseech you giue him leaue to go
   King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will:
But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne?
  Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde
   King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you?
  Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun
   Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off,
And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.
Do not for euer with thy veyled lids
Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust;
Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye,
Passing through Nature, to Eternity
   Ham. I Madam, it is common
   Queen. If it be;
Why seemes it so particular with thee
   Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes:
'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother)
Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye,
Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage,
Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe,
That can denote me truly. These indeed Seeme,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I haue that Within, which passeth show;
These, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe
   King. 'Tis sweet and commendable
In your Nature Hamlet,
To giue these mourning duties to your Father:
But you must know, your Father lost a Father,
That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound
In filiall Obligation, for some terme
To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer
In obstinate Condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe,
It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen,
A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient,
An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd:
For, what we know must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sence,
Why should we in our peeuish Opposition
Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen,
A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature,
To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame
Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first Coarse, till he that dyed to day,
This must be so. We pray you throw to earth
This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs
As of a Father; For let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our Throne,
And with no lesse Nobility of Loue,
Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne,
Do I impart towards you. For your intent
In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our desire:
And we beseech you, bend you to remaine
Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye,
Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne
   Qu. Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet:
I prythee stay with vs, go not to Wittenberg
   Ham. I shall in all my best
Obey you Madam
   King. Why 'tis a louing, and a faire Reply,
Be as our selfe in Denmarke. Madam come,
This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,
But the great Cannon to the Clowds shall tell,
And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens shall bruite againe,
Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.
Manet Hamlet.
  Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt,
Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew:
Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt
His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable
Seemes to me all the vses of this world?
Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden
That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature
Possesse it meerely. That it should come to this:
But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two,
So excellent a King, that was to this
Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother,
That he might not beteene the windes of heauen
Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth
Must I remember: why she would hang on him,
As if encrease of Appetite had growne
By what is fed on; and yet within a month?
Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman.
A little Month, or ere those shooes were old,
With which she followed my poore Fathers body
Like Niobe, all teares. Why she, euen she.
(O Heauen! A beast that wants discourse of Reason
Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle,
My Fathers Brother: but no more like my Father,
Then I to Hercules. Within a Moneth?
Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous Teares
Had left the flushing of her gauled eyes,
She married. O most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to Incestuous sheets:
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But breake my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
Enter Horatio, Barnardo, and Marcellus.
  Hor. Haile to your Lordship
   Ham. I am glad to see you well:
Horatio, or I do forget my selfe
   Hor. The same my Lord,
And your poore Seruant euer
   Ham. Sir my good friend,
Ile change that name with you:
And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio?
   Mar. My good Lord
   Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir.
But what in faith make you from Wittemberge?
  Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord
   Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so;
Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence,
To make it truster of your owne report
Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant:
But what is your affaire in Elsenour?
Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart
   Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall
   Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student)
I thinke it was to see my Mothers Wedding
   Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon
   Ham. Thrift thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats
Did coldly furnish forth the Marriage Tables;
Would I had met my dearest foe in heauen,
Ere I had euer seene that day Horatio.
My father, me thinkes I see my father
   Hor. Oh where my Lord?
  Ham. In my minds eye (Horatio)
  Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly King
   Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all:
I shall not look vpon his like againe
   Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him yesternight
   Ham. Saw? Who?
  Hor. My Lord, the King your Father
   Ham. The King my Father?
  Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent eare; till I may deliuer
Vpon the witnesse of these Gentlemen,
This maruell to you
   Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare
   Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen
(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch
In the dead wast and middle of the night
Beene thus encountred. A figure like your Father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap a Pe,
Appeares before them, and with sollemne march
Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walkt,
By their opprest and feare-surprized eyes,
Within his Truncheons length; whilst they bestil'd
Almost to Ielly with the Act of feare,
Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me
In dreadfull secrecie impart they did,
And I with them the third Night kept the Watch,
Whereas they had deliuer'd both in time,
Forme of the thing; each word made true and good,
The Apparition comes. I knew your Father:
These hands are not more like
   Ham. But where was this?
  Mar. My Lord vpon the platforme where we watcht
   Ham. Did you not speake to it?
  Hor. My Lord, I did;
But answere made it none: yet once me thought
It lifted vp it head, and did addresse
It selfe to motion, like as it would speake:
But euen then, the Morning Cocke crew lowd;
And at the sound it shrunke in hast away,
And vanisht from our sight
   Ham. Tis very strange
   Hor. As I doe liue my honourd Lord 'tis true;
And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty
To let you know of it
   Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to Night?
  Both. We doe my Lord
   Ham. Arm'd, say you?
  Both. Arm'd, my Lord
   Ham. From top to toe?
  Both. My Lord, from head to foote
   Ham. Then saw you not his face?
  Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp
   Ham. What, lookt he frowningly?
  Hor. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger
   Ham. Pale, or red?
  Hor. Nay very pale
   Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you?
  Hor. Most constantly
   Ham. I would I had beene there
   Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you
   Ham. Very like, very like: staid it long?
  Hor. While one with moderate hast might tell a hundred
   All. Longer, longer
   Hor. Not when I saw't
   Ham. His Beard was grisly? no
   Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life,
A Sable Siluer'd
   Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake againe
   Hor. I warrant you it will
   Ham. If it assume my noble Fathers person,
Ile speake to it, though Hell it selfe should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you haue hitherto conceald this sight;
Let it bee treble in your silence still:
And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night,
Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue;
I will requite your loues; so fare ye well:
Vpon the Platforme twixt eleuen and twelue,
Ile visit you
   All. Our duty to your Honour.
   Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell.
My Fathers Spirit in Armes? All is not well:
I doubt some foule play: would the Night were come;
Till then sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise,
Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies.
Scena Tertia
Enter Laertes and Ophelia.
  Laer. My necessaries are imbark't; Farewell:
And Sister, as the Winds giue Benefit,
And Conuoy is assistant; doe not sleepe,
But let me heare from you
   Ophel. Doe you doubt that?
  Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his fauours,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloude;
A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature;
Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting
The suppliance of a minute? No more
   Ophel. No more but so
   Laer. Thinke it no more:
For nature cressant does not grow alone,
In thewes and Bulke: but as his Temple waxes,
The inward seruice of the Minde and Soule
Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loues you now,
And now no soyle nor cautell doth besmerch
The vertue of his feare: but you must feare
His greatnesse weigh'd, his will is not his owne;
For hee himselfe is subiect to his Birth:
Hee may not, as vnuallued persons doe,
Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends
The sanctity and health of the whole State.
And therefore must his choyce be circumscrib'd
Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that Body,
Whereof he is the Head. Then if he sayes he loues you,
It fits your wisedome so farre to beleeue it;
As he in his peculiar Sect and force
May giue his saying deed: which is no further,
Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall.
Then weight what losse your Honour may sustaine,
If with too credent eare you list his Songs;
Or lose your Heart; or your chast Treasure open
To his vnmastred importunity.
Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare Sister,
And keepe within the reare of your Affection;
Out of the shot and danger of Desire.
The chariest Maid is Prodigall enough,
If she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone:
Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious stroakes,
The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Spring
Too oft before the buttons be disclos'd,
And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth,
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then, best safety lies in feare;
Youth to it selfe rebels, though none else neere
   Ophe. I shall th' effect of this good Lesson keepe,
As watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother
Doe not as some vngracious Pastors doe,
Shew me the steepe and thorny way to Heauen;
Whilst like a puft and recklesse Libertine
Himselfe, the Primrose path of dalliance treads,
And reaks not his owne reade
   Laer. Oh, feare me not.
Enter Polonius.
I stay too long; but here my Father comes:
A double blessing is a double grace;
Occasion smiles vpon a second leaue
   Polon. Yet heere Laertes? Aboord, aboord for shame,
The winde sits in the shoulder of your saile,
And you are staid for there: my blessing with you;
And these few Precepts in thy memory,
See thou Character. Giue thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any vnproportion'd thoughts his Act:
Be thou familiar; but by no meanes vulgar:
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tride,
Grapple them to thy Soule, with hoopes of Steele:
But doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment
Of each vnhatch't, vnfledg'd Comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in
Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.
Giue euery man thine eare; but few thy voyce:
Take each mans censure; but reserue thy iudgement:
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy;
But not exprest in fancie; rich, not gawdie:
For the Apparell oft proclaimes the man.
And they in France of the best ranck and station,
Are of a most select and generous cheff in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For lone oft loses both it selfe and friend:
And borrowing duls the edge of Husbandry.
This aboue all; to thine owne selfe be true:
And it must follow, as the Night the Day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my Blessing season this in thee
   Laer. Most humbly doe I take my leaue, my Lord
   Polon. The time inuites you, goe, your seruants tend
   Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well
What I haue said to you
   Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt,
And you your selfe shall keepe the key of it
   Laer. Farewell.
  Polon. What ist Ophelia he hath said to you?
  Ophe. So please you, somthing touching the L[ord]. Hamlet
   Polon. Marry, well bethought:
Tis told me he hath very oft of late
Giuen priuate time to you; and you your selfe
Haue of your audience beene most free and bounteous.
If it be so, as so tis put on me;
And that in way of caution: I must tell you,
You doe not vnderstand your selfe so cleerely,
As it behoues my Daughter, and your Honour.
What is betweene you, giue me vp the truth?
  Ophe. He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me
   Polon. Affection, puh. You speake like a greene Girle,
Vnsifted in such perillous Circumstance.
Doe you beleeue his tenders, as you call them?
  Ophe. I do not know, my Lord, what I should thinke
   Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your selfe a Baby,
That you haue tane his tenders for true pay,
Which are not starling. Tender your selfe more dearly;
Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase,
Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a foole
   Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue,
In honourable fashion
   Polon. I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too
   Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech,
My Lord, with all the vowes of Heauen
   Polon. I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know
When the Bloud burnes, how Prodigall the Soule
Giues the tongue vowes: these blazes, Daughter,
Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both,
Euen in their promise, as it is a making;
You must not take for fire. For this time Daughter,
Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate,
Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Beleeue so much in him, that he is young,
And with a larger tether may he walke,
Then may be giuen you. In few, Ophelia,
Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Broakers,
Not of the eye, which their Inuestments show:
But meere implorators of vnholy Sutes,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all:
I would not, in plaine tearmes, from this time forth,
Haue you so slander any moment leisure,
As to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet:
Looke too't, I charge you; come your wayes
   Ophe. I shall obey my Lord.
Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.
  Ham. The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold?
  Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre
   Ham. What hower now?
  Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue
   Mar. No, it is strooke
   Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season,
Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke.
What does this meane my Lord?
  Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse,
Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles,
And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe,
The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his Pledge
   Horat. Is it a custome?
  Ham. I marry ist;
And to my mind, though I am natiue heere,
And to the manner borne: It is a Custome
More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance.
Enter Ghost.
  Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes
   Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs:
Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell,
Be thy euents wicked or charitable,
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape
That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me,
Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell
Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death,
Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher
Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes,
To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane?
That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele,
Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone,
Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition,
With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules,
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?
Ghost beckens Hamlet.
  Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
To you alone
   Mar. Looke with what courteous action
It wafts you to a more remoued ground:
But doe not goe with it
   Hor. No, by no meanes
   Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it
   Hor. Doe not my Lord
   Ham. Why, what should be the feare?
I doe not set my life at a pins fee;
And for my Soule, what can it doe to that?
Being a thing immortall as it selfe:
It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it
   Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord?
Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe,
That beetles o're his base into the Sea,
And there assumes some other horrible forme,
Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason,
And draw you into madnesse thinke of it?
  Ham. It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee
   Mar. You shall not goe my Lord
   Ham. Hold off your hand
   Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe
   Ham. My fate cries out,
And makes each petty Artire in this body,
As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue:
Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen:
By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me:
I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.
Exeunt. Ghost & Hamlet.
  Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination
   Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him
   Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come?
  Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke
   Hor. Heauen will direct it
   Mar. Nay, let's follow him.
Enter Ghost and Hamlet.
  Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile go no further
   Gho. Marke me
   Ham. I will
   Gho. My hower is almost come,
When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames
Must render vp my selfe
   Ham. Alas poore Ghost
   Gho. Pitty me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall vnfold
   Ham. Speake, I am bound to heare
   Gho. So art thou to reuenge, when thou shalt heare
   Ham. What?
  Gho. I am thy Fathers Spirit,
Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night;
And for the day confin'd to fast in Fiers,
Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of Nature
Are burnt and purg'd away? But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my Prison-House;
I could a Tale vnfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow vp thy soule, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres,
Thy knotty and combined lockes to part,
And each particular haire to stand an end,
Like Quilles vpon the fretfull Porpentine:
But this eternall blason must not be
To eares of flesh and bloud; list Hamlet, oh list,
If thou didst euer thy deare Father loue
   Ham. Oh Heauen!
  Gho. Reuenge his foule and most vnnaturall Murther
   Ham. Murther?
  Ghost. Murther most foule, as in the best it is;
But this most foule, strange, and vnnaturall
   Ham. Hast, hast me to know it,
That with wings as swift
As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue,
May sweepe to my Reuenge
   Ghost. I finde thee apt,
And duller should'st thou be then the fat weede
That rots it selfe in ease, on Lethe Wharfe,
Would'st thou not stirre in this. Now Hamlet heare:
It's giuen out, that sleeping in mine Orchard,
A Serpent stung me: so the whole eare of Denmarke,
Is by a forged processe of my death
Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth,
The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life,
Now weares his Crowne
   Ham. O my Propheticke soule: mine Vncle?
  Ghost. I that incestuous, that adulterate Beast
With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous guifts.
Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power
So to seduce? Won to this shamefull Lust
The will of my most seeming vertuous Queene:
Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there,
From me, whose loue was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand, euen with the Vow
I made to her in Marriage; and to decline
Vpon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore
To those of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued,
Though Lewdnesse court it in a shape of Heauen:
So Lust, though to a radiant Angell link'd,
Will sate it selfe in a Celestiall bed, & prey on Garbage.
But soft, me thinkes I sent the Mornings Ayre;
Briefe let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard,
My custome alwayes in the afternoone;
Vpon my secure hower thy Vncle stole
With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl,
And in the Porches of mine eares did poure
The leaperous Distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man,
That swift as Quick-siluer, it courses through
The naturall Gates and Allies of the body;
And with a sodaine vigour it doth posset
And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke,
The thin and wholsome blood: so did it mine;
And a most instant Tetter bak'd about,
Most Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
All my smooth Body.
Thus was I, sleeping, by a Brothers hand,
Of Life, of Crowne, and Queene at once dispatcht;
Cut off euen in the Blossomes of my Sinne,
Vnhouzzled, disappointed, vnnaneld,
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head;
Oh horrible Oh horrible, most horrible:
If thou hast nature in thee beare it not;
Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be
A Couch for Luxury and damned Incest.
But howsoeuer thou pursuest this Act,
Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue
Against thy Mother ought; leaue her to heauen,
And to those Thornes that in her bosome lodge,
To pricke and sting her. Fare thee well at once;
The Glow-worme showes the Matine to be neere,
And gins to pale his vneffectuall Fire:
Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me.
  Ham. Oh all you host of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els?
And shall I couple Hell? Oh fie: hold my heart;
And you my sinnewes, grow not instant Old;
But beare me stiffely vp: Remember thee?
I, thou poore Ghost, while memory holds a seate
In this distracted Globe: Remember thee?
Yea, from the Table of my Memory,
Ile wipe away all triuiall fond Records,
All sawes of Bookes, all formes, all presures past,
That youth and obseruation coppied there;
And thy Commandment all alone shall liue
Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine,
Vnmixt with baser matter; yes yes, by Heauen:
Oh most pernicious woman!
Oh Villaine, Villaine, smiling damned Villaine!
My Tables, my Tables; meet it is I set it downe,
That one may smile, and smile and be a Villaine;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmarke;
So Vnckle there you are: now to my word;
It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me: I haue sworn't
   Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord.
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
  Mar. Lord Hamlet
   Hor. Heauen secure him
   Mar. So be it
   Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord
   Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come
   Mar. How ist my Noble Lord?
  Hor. What newes, my Lord?
  Ham. Oh wonderfull!
  Hor. Good my Lord tell it
   Ham. No you'l reueale it
   Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen
   Mar. Nor I, my Lord
   Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it?
But you'l be secret?
  Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord
   Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke
But hee's an arrant knaue
   Hor. There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the
Graue, to tell vs this
   Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right;
And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part:
You, as your busines and desires shall point you:
For euery man ha's businesse and desire,
Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part,
Looke you, Ile goe pray
   Hor. These are but wild and hurling words, my Lord
   Ham. I'm sorry they offend you heartily:
Yes faith, heartily
   Hor. There's no offence my Lord
   Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord,
And much offence too, touching this Vision heere:
It is an honest Ghost, that let me tell you:
For your desire to know what is betweene vs,
O'remaster't as you may. And now good friends,
As you are Friends, Schollers and Soldiers,
Giue me one poore request
   Hor. What is't my Lord? we will
   Ham. Neuer make known what you haue seen to night
   Both. My Lord, we will not
   Ham. Nay, but swear't
   Hor. Infaith my Lord, not I
   Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith
   Ham. Vpon my sword
   Marcell. We haue sworne my Lord already
   Ham. Indeed, vpon my sword, Indeed
   Gho. Sweare.
Ghost cries vnder the Stage.
  Ham. Ah ha boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny?
Come one you here this fellow in the selleredge
Consent to sweare
   Hor. Propose the Oath my Lord
   Ham. Neuer to speake of this that you haue seene.
Sweare by my sword
   Gho. Sweare
   Ham. Hic & vbique? Then wee'l shift for grownd,
Come hither Gentlemen,
And lay your hands againe vpon my sword,
Neuer to speake of this that you haue heard:
Sweare by my Sword
   Gho. Sweare
   Ham. Well said old Mole, can'st worke i'th' ground so fast?
A worthy Pioner, once more remoue good friends
   Hor. Oh day and night: but this is wondrous strange
   Ham. And therefore as a stranger giue it welcome.
There are more things in Heauen and Earth, Horatio,
Then are dream't of in our Philosophy. But come,
Here as before, neuer so helpe you mercy,
How strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe;
(As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet
To put an Anticke disposition on:)
That you at such time seeing me, neuer shall
With Armes encombred thus, or thus, head shake;
Or by pronouncing of some doubtfull Phrase;
As well, we know, or we could and if we would,
Or if we list to speake; or there be and if there might,
Or such ambiguous giuing out to note,
That you know ought of me; this not to doe:
So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you:
   Ghost. Sweare
   Ham. Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen,
With all my loue I doe commend me to you;
And what so poore a man as Hamlet is,
May doe t' expresse his loue and friending to you,
God willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in together,
And still your fingers on your lippes I pray,
The time is out of ioynt: Oh cursed spight,
That euer I was borne to set it right.
Nay, come let's goe together.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo.
  Polon. Giue him his money, and these notes Reynoldo
   Reynol. I will my Lord
   Polon. You shall doe maruels wisely: good Reynoldo,
Before you visite him you make inquiry
Of his behauiour
   Reynol. My Lord, I did intend it
   Polon. Marry, well said;
Very well said. Looke you Sir,
Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
And how, and who; what meanes; and where they keepe:
What company, at what expence: and finding
By this encompassement and drift of question,
That they doe know my sonne: Come you more neerer
Then your particular demands will touch it,
Take you as 'twere some distant knowledge of him,
And thus I know his father and his friends,
And in part him. Doe you marke this Reynoldo?
  Reynol. I, very well my Lord
   Polon. And in part him, but you may say not well;
But if't be hee I meane, hees very wilde;
Addicted so and so; and there put on him
What forgeries you please; marry, none so ranke,
As may dishonour him; take heed of that:
But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips,
As are Companions noted and most knowne
To youth and liberty
   Reynol. As gaming my Lord
   Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, swearing,
Quarelling, drabbing. You may goe so farre
   Reynol. My Lord that would dishonour him
   Polon. Faith no, as you may season it in the charge;
You must not put another scandall on him,
That hee is open to Incontinencie;
That's not my meaning: but breath his faults so quaintly,
That they may seeme the taints of liberty;
The flash and out-breake of a fiery minde,
A sauagenes in vnreclaim'd bloud of generall assault
   Reynol. But my good Lord
   Polon. Wherefore should you doe this?
  Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that
   Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift,
And I belieue it is a fetch of warrant:
You laying these slight sulleyes on my Sonne,
As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th' working:
Marke you your party in conuerse; him you would sound,
Hauing euer seene. In the prenominate crimes,
The youth you breath of guilty, be assur'd
He closes with you in this consequence:
Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman.
According to the Phrase and the Addition,
Of man and Country
   Reynol. Very good my Lord
   Polon. And then Sir does he this?
He does: what was I about to say?
I was about say somthing: where did I leaue?
  Reynol. At closes in the consequence:
At friend, or so, and Gentleman
   Polon. At closes in the consequence, I marry,
He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman,
I saw him yesterday, or tother day;
Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say,
There was he gaming, there o'retooke in's Rouse,
There falling out at Tennis; or perchance,
I saw him enter such a house of saile;
Videlicet, a Brothell, or so forth. See you now;
Your bait of falshood, takes this Cape of truth;
And thus doe we of wisedome and of reach
With windlesses, and with assaies of Bias,
By indirections finde directions out:
So by my former Lecture and aduice
Shall you my Sonne; you haue me, haue you not?
  Reynol. My Lord I haue
   Polon. God buy you; fare you well
   Reynol. Good my Lord
   Polon. Obserue his inclination in your selfe
   Reynol. I shall my Lord
   Polon. And let him plye his Musicke
   Reynol. Well, my Lord.
Enter Ophelia.
  Polon. Farewell:
How now Ophelia, what's the matter?
  Ophe. Alas my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted
   Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen?
  Ophe. My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber,
Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd,
No hat vpon his head, his stockings foul'd,
Vngartred, and downe giued to his Anckle,
Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,
And with a looke so pitious in purport,
As if he had been loosed out of hell,
To speake of horrors: he comes before me
   Polon. Mad for thy Loue?
  Ophe. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it
   Polon. What said he?
  Ophe. He tooke me by the wrist, and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arme;
And with his other hand thus o're his brow,
He fals to such perusall of my face,
As he would draw it. Long staid he so,
At last, a little shaking of mine Arme:
And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe;
He rais'd a sigh, so pittious and profound,
That it did seeme to shatter all his bulke,
And end his being. That done, he lets me goe,
And with his head ouer his shoulders turn'd,
He seem'd to finde his way without his eyes,
For out adores he went without their helpe;
And to the last, bended their light on me
   Polon. Goe with me, I will goe seeke the King,
This is the very extasie of Loue,
Whose violent property foredoes it selfe,
And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings,
As oft as any passion vnder Heauen,
That does afflict our Natures. I am sorrie,
What haue you giuen him any hard words of late?
  Ophe. No my good Lord: but as you did command,
I did repell his Letters, and deny'de
His accesse to me
   Pol. That hath made him mad.
I am sorrie that with better speed and iudgement
I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle,
And meant to wracke thee: but beshrew my iealousie:
It seemes it is as proper to our Age,
To cast beyond our selues in our Opinions,
As it is common for the yonger sort
To lacke discretion. Come, go we to the King,
This must be knowne, being kept close might moue
More greefe to hide, then hate to vtter loue.
Scena Secunda.
Enter King, Queene, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cum alijs.
  King. Welcome deere Rosincrance and Guildensterne.
Moreouer, that we much did long to see you,
The neede we haue to vse you, did prouoke
Our hastie sending. Something haue you heard
Of Hamlets transformation: so I call it,
Since not th' exterior, nor the inward man
Resembles that it was. What it should bee
More then his Fathers death, that thus hath put him
So much from th' vnderstanding of himselfe,
I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both,
That being of so young dayes brought vp with him:
And since so Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour,
That you vouchsafe your rest heere in our Court
Some little time: so by your Companies
To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather
So much as from Occasions you may gleane,
That open'd lies within our remedie
   Qu. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,
And sure I am, two men there are not liuing,
To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
To shew vs so much Gentrie, and good will,
As to expend your time with vs a-while,
For the supply and profit of our Hope,
Your Visitation shall receiue such thankes
As fits a Kings remembrance
   Rosin. Both your Maiesties
Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs,
Put your dread pleasures, more into Command
Then to Entreatie
   Guil. We both obey,
And here giue vp our selues, in the full bent,
To lay our Seruices freely at your feete,
To be commanded
   King. Thankes Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne
   Qu. Thankes Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance.
And I beseech you instantly to visit
My too much changed Sonne.
Go some of ye,
And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is
   Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises
Pleasant and helpfull to him.
  Queene. Amen.
Enter Polonius.
  Pol. Th' Ambassadors from Norwey, my good Lord,
Are ioyfully return'd
   King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes
   Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Assure you, my good Liege,
I hold my dutie, as I hold my Soule,
Both to my God, one to my gracious King:
And I do thinke, or else this braine of mine
Hunts not the traile of Policie, so sure
As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found
The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie
   King. Oh speake of that, that I do long to heare
   Pol. Giue first admittance to th' Ambassadors,
My Newes shall be the Newes to that great Feast
   King. Thy selfe do grace to them, and bring them in.
He tels me my sweet Queene, that he hath found
The head and sourse of all your Sonnes distemper
   Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine,
His Fathers death, and our o're-hasty Marriage.
Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius.
  King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends:
Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey?
  Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings, and Desires.
Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresse
His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd
To be a preparation 'gainst the Poleak:
But better look'd into, he truly found
It was against your Highnesse, whereat greeued,
That so his Sicknesse, Age, and Impotence
Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests
On Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes,
Receiues rebuke from Norwey: and in fine,
Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more
To giue th' assay of Armes against your Maiestie.
Whereon old Norwey, ouercome with ioy,
Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee,
And his Commission to imploy those Soldiers
So leuied as before, against the Poleak:
With an intreaty heerein further shewne,
That it might please you to giue quiet passe
Through your Dominions, for his Enterprize,
On such regards of safety and allowance,
As therein are set downe
   King. It likes vs well:
And at our more consider'd time wee'l read,
Answer, and thinke vpon this Businesse.
Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour.
Go to your rest, at night wee'l Feast together.
Most welcome home.
Exit Ambass.
  Pol. This businesse is very well ended.
My Liege, and Madam, to expostulate
What Maiestie should be, what Dutie is,
Why day is day; night, night; and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste Night, Day, and Time.
Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of Wit,
And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes,
I will be breefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad:
Mad call I it; for to define true Madnesse,
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad.
But let that go
   Qu. More matter, with lesse Art
   Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all:
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie,
And pittie it is true: A foolish figure,
But farewell it: for I will vse no Art.
Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines
That we finde out the cause of this effect,
Or rather say, the cause of this defect;
For this effect defectiue, comes by cause,
Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend,
I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine,
Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke,
Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.
To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia.
That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde
Phrase: but you shall heare these in her excellent white
bosome, these
   Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her
   Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull.
Doubt thou, the Starres are fire,
Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue:
Doubt Truth to be a Lier,
But neuer Doubt, I loue.
O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to
reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue
Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this
Machine is to him, Hamlet.
This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me:
And more aboue hath his soliciting,
As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place,
All giuen to mine eare
   King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue?
  Pol. What do you thinke of me?
  King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable
   Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think?
When I had seene this hot loue on the wing,
As I perceiued it, I must tell you that
Before my Daughter told me what might you
Or my deere Maiestie your Queene heere, think,
If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,
Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe,
Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight,
What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke,
And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake
Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre,
This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her,
That she should locke her selfe from his Resort,
Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens:
Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice,
And he repulsed. A short Tale to make,
Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast,
Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse,
Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension
Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues,
And all we waile for
   King. Do you thinke 'tis this?
  Qu. It may be very likely
   Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that,
That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so,
When it prou'd otherwise?
  King. Not that I know
   Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise,
If Circumstances leade me, I will finde
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede
Within the Center
   King. How may we try it further?
  Pol. You know sometimes
He walkes foure houres together, heere
In the Lobby
   Qu. So he ha's indeed
   Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him,
Be you and I behinde an Arras then,
Marke the encounter: If he loue her not,
And be not from his reason falne thereon;
Let me be no Assistant for a State,
And keepe a Farme and Carters
   King. We will try it.
Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.
  Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch
Comes reading
   Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away,
Ile boord him presently.
Exit King & Queen.
Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet?
  Ham. Well, God-a-mercy
   Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?
  Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger
   Pol. Not I my Lord
   Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man
   Pol. Honest, my Lord?
  Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee
one man pick'd out of two thousand
   Pol. That's very true, my Lord
   Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,
being a good kissing Carrion-
Haue you a daughter?
  Pol. I haue my Lord
   Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a
blessing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend
   Pol. How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter:
yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a Fishmonger:
he is farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth,
I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile
speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?
  Ham. Words, words, words
   Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?
  Ham. Betweene who?
  Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord
   Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here,
that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;
their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree
Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit,
together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I
most powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it
not Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your
selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could
   Pol. Though this be madnesse,
Yet there is Method in't: will you walke
Out of the ayre my Lord?
  Ham. Into my Graue?
  Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre:
How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are?
A happinesse,
That often Madnesse hits on,
Which Reason and Sanitie could not
So prosperously be deliuer'd of.
I will leaue him,
And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting
Betweene him, and my daughter.
My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly
Take my leaue of you
   Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I
will more willingly part withall, except my life, my
   Polon. Fare you well my Lord
   Ham. These tedious old fooles
   Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there
Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.
  Rosin. God saue you Sir
   Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?
  Rosin. My most deare Lord?
  Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou
Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye
  Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth
   Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes
Cap, we are not the very Button
   Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo?
  Rosin. Neither my Lord
   Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle
of her fauour?
  Guil. Faith, her priuates, we
   Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true:
she is a Strumpet. What's the newes?
  Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne
   Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is
not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue
you my good friends, deserued at the hands of Fortune,
that she sends you to Prison hither?
  Guil. Prison, my Lord?
  Ham. Denmark's a Prison
   Rosin. Then is the World one
   Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines,
Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th'
   Rosin. We thinke not so my Lord
   Ham. Why then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is
   Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis
too narrow for your minde
   Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and
count my selfe a King of infinite space; were it not that
I haue bad dreames
   Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the
very substance of the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow
   Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow
   Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and
light a quality, that it is but a shadowes shadow
   Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs
and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes:
shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason?
  Both. Wee'l wait vpon you
   Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the
rest of my seruants: for to speake to you like an honest
man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten
way of friendship, What make you at Elsonower?
  Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion
   Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes;
but I thanke you: and sure deare friends my thanks
are too deare a halfepeny; were you not sent for? Is it
your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake
   Guil. What should we say my Lord?
  Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were
sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes;
which your modesties haue not craft enough to color,
I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you
   Rosin. To what end my Lord?
  Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure
you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preserued loue,
and by what more deare, a better proposer could charge
you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you
were sent for or no
   Rosin. What say you?
  Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me
hold not off
   Guil. My Lord, we were sent for
   Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
preuent your discouery of your secricie to the King and
Queene: moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore
I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custome of exercise;
and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition;
that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill
Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre,
look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe,
fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing
to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in
Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing
how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel?
in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty of the
world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is
this Quintessence of Dust? Man delights not me; no,
nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seeme
   Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my
   Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights
  Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man,
what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receiue
from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are
they comming to offer you Seruice
   Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his
Maiesty shall haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous
Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall
not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in
peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs
are tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde
freely; or the blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players
  Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in
the Tragedians of the City
   Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence
both in reputation and profit was better both
   Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes
of the late Innouation?
  Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did
when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd?
  Rosin. No indeed, they are not
   Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty?
  Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted
pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little
Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and
are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the
fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they
call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of
Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither
   Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em?
How are they escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no
longer then they can sing? Will they not say afterwards
if they should grow themselues to common Players (as
it is most like if their meanes are not better) their Writers
do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their
owne Succession
   Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides:
and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie.
There was for a while, no mony bid for argument,
vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in
the Question
   Ham. Is't possible?
  Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of
   Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away?
  Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too
   Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of
Denmarke, and those that would make mowes at him
while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred
Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something
in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could
finde it out.
Flourish for the Players.
  Guil. There are the Players
   Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your
hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion
and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe,
lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew
fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment
then yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father,
and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd
   Guil. In what my deere Lord?
  Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when the
Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handsaw.
Enter Polonius.
  Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen
   Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each
eare a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet
out of his swathing clouts
   Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for
they say, an old man is twice a childe
   Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the
Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning
'twas so indeed
   Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you
   Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.
When Rossius an Actor in Rome-
  Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord
   Ham. Buzze, buzze
   Pol. Vpon mine Honor
   Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse-
  Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie,
Comedie, Historie, Pastorall:
Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:
Scene indiuidible: or Poem
vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus
too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are
the onely men
   Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st
  Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?
  Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more,
The which he loued passing well
   Pol. Still on my Daughter
   Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta?
  Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter
that I loue passing well
   Ham. Nay that followes not
   Polon. What followes then, my Lord?
  Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It
came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the
Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my
Abridgements come.
Enter foure or fiue Players.
Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see
thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend?
Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to
beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris?
Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when
I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God
your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd
within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne
to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l
haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality:
come, a passionate speech
   1.Play. What speech, my Lord?
  Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
neuer Acted: or if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I
remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the
Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose
iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an
excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe
with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said,
there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory;
nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the
Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One
cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale
to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks
of Priams slaughter. If it liue in your memory, begin at
this Line, let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus like
th'Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus
The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose Sable Armes
Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse,
Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd
With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote
Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd
With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes,
Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous, and damned light
To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Olde Grandsire Priam seekes
   Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent,
and good discretion
   1.Player. Anon he findes him,
Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword,
Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles
Repugnant to command: vnequall match,
Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide:
But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword,
Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium,
Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top
Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash
Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword
Which was declining on the Milkie head
Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke:
So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood,
And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing.
But as we often see against some storme,
A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still,
The bold windes speechlesse, and the Orbe below
As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder
Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause,
A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke,
And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall
On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne,
With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword
Now falles on Priam.
Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods,
In generall Synod take away her power:
Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele,
And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen,
As low as to the Fiends
   Pol. This is too long
   Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee
say on: He's for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee
sleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba
   1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen
   Ham. The inobled Queene?
  Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good
   1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe,
Threatning the flame
With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head,
Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe
About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines,
A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp.
Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd,
'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd?
But if the Gods themselues did see her then,
When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes,
The instant Burst of Clamour that she made
(Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all)
Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen,
And passion in the Gods
   Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and
ha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more
   Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest,
soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd.
Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are
the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After
your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then
their ill report while you liued
   Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart
   Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man
after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse
them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they
deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them
   Pol. Come sirs.
  Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow.
Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the
murther of Gonzago?
  Play. I my Lord
   Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a
need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which
I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not?
  Play. I my Lord
   Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you
mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night
you are welcome to Elsonower?
  Rosin. Good my Lord.
Manet Hamlet.
  Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone.
Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I?
Is it not monstrous that this Player heere,
But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion,
Could force his soule so to his whole conceit,
That from her working, all his visage warm'd;
Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect,
A broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting
With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weepe for her? What would he doe,
Had he the Motiue and the Cue for passion
That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares,
And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech:
Make mad the guilty, and apale the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peake
Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing: No, not for a King,
Vpon whose property, and most deere life,
A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward?
Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse?
Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face?
Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate,
As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?
Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be,
But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall
To make Oppression bitter, or ere this,
I should haue fatted all the Region Kites
With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine,
Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine!
Oh Vengeance!
Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue,
That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,
Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,
Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words,
And fall a Cursing like a very Drab.
A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.
I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play,
Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene,
Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently
They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions.
For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake
With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players,
Play something like the murder of my Father,
Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes,
Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blench
I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene
May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power
T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps
Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly,
As he is very potent with such Spirits,
Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds
More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing,
Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.
Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,
Guildenstern, and
  King. And can you by no drift of circumstance
Get from him why he puts on this Confusion:
Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy
   Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted,
But from what cause he will by no meanes speake
   Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe:
When we would bring him on to some Confession
Of his true state
   Qu. Did he receiue you well?
  Rosin. Most like a Gentleman
   Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition
   Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demands
Most free in his reply
   Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime?
  Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players
We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him,
And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy
To heare of it: They are about the Court,
And (as I thinke) they haue already order
This night to play before him
   Pol. 'Tis most true:
And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties
To heare, and see the matter
   King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,
Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on
To these delights
   Rosin. We shall my Lord.
  King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,
For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may there
Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials)
Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene
We may of their encounter frankely iudge,
And gather by him, as he is behaued,
If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no.
That thus he suffers for
   Qu. I shall obey you,
And for your part Ophelia, I do wish
That your good Beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues
Will bring him to his wonted way againe,
To both your Honors
   Ophe. Madam, I wish it may
   Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye
We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke,
That shew of such an exercise may colour
Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this,
'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage,
And pious Action, we do surge o're
The diuell himselfe
   King. Oh 'tis true:
How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience?
The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art
Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it,
Then is my deede, to my most painted word.
Oh heauie burthen!
  Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.
Enter Hamlet.
  Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation
Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe,
To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub,
For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,
When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile,
Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,
The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes
That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,
When he himselfe might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare
To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne
No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,
And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,
Then flye to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,
And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution
Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currants turne away,
And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
Be all my sinnes remembred
   Ophe. Good my Lord,
How does your Honor for this many a day?
  Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well
   Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours,
That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.
I pray you now, receiue them
   Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought
   Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich, then perfume left:
Take these againe, for to the Noble minde
Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.
There my Lord
   Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest?
  Ophe. My Lord
   Ham. Are you faire?
  Ophe. What meanes your Lordship?
  Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty
should admit no discourse to your Beautie
   Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce
then your Honestie?
  Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner
transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the
force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse.
This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it
proofe. I did loue you once
   Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so
   Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue
cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish
of it. I loued you not
   Ophe. I was the more deceiued
   Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou
be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest,
but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better
my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull,
Ambitious, with more offences at my becke,
then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue
them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such
Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth.
We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy
wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father?
  Ophe. At home, my Lord
   Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may
play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell
   Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens
   Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague
for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow,
thou shalt not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery.
Go, Farewell. Or if thou wilt needs Marry, marry a fool:
for Wise men know well enough, what monsters you
make of them. To a Nunnery go, and quickly too. Farwell
   Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him
   Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough.
God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another:
you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname
Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance.
Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad.
I say, we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are
married already, all but one shall liue, the rest shall keep
as they are. To a Nunnery, go.
Exit Hamlet.
  Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne?
The Courtiers, Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword,
Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State,
The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme,
Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe.
Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched,
That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes:
Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason,
Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh,
That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth,
Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me,
T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see.
Enter King, and Polonius.
  King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little,
Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule?
O're which his Melancholly sits on brood,
And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose
Will be some danger, which to preuent
I haue in quicke determination
Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England
For the demand of our neglected Tribute:
Haply the Seas and Countries different
With variable Obiects, shall expell
This something setled matter in his heart:
Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't?
  Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue
The Origin and Commencement of this greefe
Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia?
You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide,
We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please,
But if you hold it fit after the Play,
Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him
To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him,
And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare
Of all their Conference. If she finde him not,
To England send him: Or confine him where
Your wisedome best shall thinke
   King. It shall be so:
Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.
Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.
  Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronounc'd
it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it,
as many of your Players do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer
had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Ayre too much
your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie Torrent,
Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of
Passion, you must acquire and beget a Temperance that
may giue it Smoothnesse. O it offends mee to the Soule,
to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Passion
to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the
Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of
nothing, but inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could
haue such a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it
outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it
   Player. I warrant your Honor
   Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne
Discretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word,
the Word to the Action, with this speciall obseruance:
That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for any
thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose
end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer
the Mirrour vp to Nature; to shew Vertue her owne
Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and the verie Age and
Bodie of the Time, his forme and pressure. Now, this
ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnskilfull
laugh, cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The
censure of the which One, must in your allowance o'reway
a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players
that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that
highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing
the accent of Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan,
or Norman, haue so strutted and bellowed, that I haue
thought some of Natures Iouerney-men had made men,
and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so abhominably
   Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with
   Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let those that
play your Clownes, speake no more then is set downe for
them. For there be of them, that will themselues laugh,
to set on some quantitie of barren Spectators to laugh
too, though in the meane time, some necessary Question
of the Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous, &
shewes a most pittifull Ambition in the Foole that vses
it. Go make you readie.
Exit Players.
Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.
How now my Lord,
Will the King heare this peece of Worke?
  Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently
   Ham. Bid the Players make hast.
Exit Polonius.
Will you two helpe to hasten them?
  Both. We will my Lord.
Enter Horatio.
  Ham. What hoa, Horatio?
  Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your Seruice
   Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iust a man
As ere my Conuersation coap'd withall
   Hora. O my deere Lord
   Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter:
For what aduancement may I hope from thee,
That no Reuennew hast, but thy good spirits
To feed & cloath thee. Why shold the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe,
And crooke the pregnant Hindges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow faining? Dost thou heare,
Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse,
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou hast bene
As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.
A man that Fortunes buffets, and Rewards
Hath 'tane with equall Thankes. And blest are those,
Whose Blood and Iudgement are so well co-mingled,
That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger.
To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man,
That is not Passions Slaue, and I will weare him
In my hearts Core. I, in my Heart of heart,
As I do thee. Something too much of this.
There is a Play to night to before the King.
One Scoene of it comes neere the Circumstance
Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death.
I prythee, when thou see'st that Acte a-foot,
Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule
Obserue mine Vnkle: If his occulted guilt,
Do not it selfe vnkennell in one speech,
It is a damned Ghost that we haue seene:
And my Imaginations are as foule
As Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note,
For I mine eyes will riuet to his Face:
And after we will both our iudgements ioyne,
To censure of his seeming
   Hora. Well my Lord.
If he steale ought the whil'st this Play is Playing,
And scape detecting, I will pay the Theft.
Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance,
Guildensterne, and
other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. Danish
March. Sound
  Ham. They are comming to the Play: I must be idle.
Get you a place
   King. How fares our Cosin Hamlet?
  Ham. Excellent Ifaith, of the Camelions dish: I eate
the Ayre promise-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons so
   King. I haue nothing with this answer Hamlet, these
words are not mine
   Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid once
i'th' Vniuersity, you say?
  Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good
   Ham. And what did you enact?
  Pol. I did enact Iulius Caesar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol:
Brutus kill'd me
   Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill so Capitall a
Calfe there. Be the Players ready?
  Rosin. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience
   Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me
   Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractiue
   Pol. Oh ho, do you marke that?
  Ham. Ladie, shall I lye in your Lap?
  Ophe. No my Lord
   Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap?
  Ophe. I my Lord
   Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country matters?
  Ophe. I thinke nothing, my Lord
   Ham. That's a faire thought to ly betweene Maids legs
  Ophe. What is my Lord?
  Ham. Nothing
   Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord?
  Ham. Who I?
  Ophe. I my Lord
   Ham. Oh God, your onely Iigge-maker: what should
a man do, but be merrie. For looke you how cheerefully
my Mother lookes, and my Father dyed within's two
   Ophe. Nay, 'tis twice two moneths, my Lord
   Ham. So long? Nay then let the Diuel weare blacke,
for Ile haue a suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two moneths
ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a
great mans Memorie, may out-liue his life halfe a yeare:
But byrlady he must builde Churches then: or else shall
he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose
Epitaph is, For o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.
Hoboyes play. The dumbe shew enters.
Enter a King and Queene, very louingly; the Queene embracing
kneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes her
declines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Banke
She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow,
takes off his
Crowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, and
Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionate
Poysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seeming
with her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes the
Gifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end,
  Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord?
  Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes
   Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of the
  Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Players
cannot keepe counsell, they'l tell all
   Ophe. Will they tell vs what this shew meant?
  Ham. I, or any shew that you'l shew him. Bee not
you asham'd to shew, hee'l not shame to tell you what it
   Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the
Enter Prologue.
For vs, and for our Tragedie,
Heere stooping to your Clemencie:
We begge your hearing Patientlie
   Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poesie of a Ring?
  Ophe. 'Tis briefe my Lord
   Ham. As Womans loue.
Enter King and his Queene.
  King. Full thirtie times hath Phoebus Cart gon round,
Neptunes salt Wash, and Tellus Orbed ground:
And thirtie dozen Moones with borrowed sheene,
About the World haue times twelue thirties beene,
Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands
Vnite comutuall, in most sacred Bands
   Bap. So many iournies may the Sunne and Moone
Make vs againe count o're, ere loue be done.
But woe is me, you are so sicke of late,
So farre from cheere, and from your former state,
That I distrust you: yet though I distrust,
Discomfort you (my Lord) it nothing must:
For womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie,
In neither ought, or in extremity:
Now what my loue is, proofe hath made you know,
And as my Loue is siz'd, my Feare is so
   King. Faith I must leaue thee Loue, and shortly too:
My operant Powers my Functions leaue to do:
And thou shalt liue in this faire world behinde,
Honour'd, belou'd, and haply, one as kinde.
For Husband shalt thou-
  Bap. Oh confound the rest:
Such Loue, must needs be Treason in my brest:
In second Husband, let me be accurst,
None wed the second, but who kill'd the first
   Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood
   Bapt. The instances that second Marriage moue,
Are base respects of Thrift, but none of Loue.
A second time, I kill my Husband dead,
When second Husband kisses me in Bed
   King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you speak:
But what we do determine, oft we breake:
Purpose is but the slaue to Memorie,
Of violent Birth, but poore validitie:
Which now like Fruite vnripe stickes on the Tree,
But fall vnshaken, when they mellow bee.
Most necessary 'tis, that we forget
To pay our selues, what to our selues is debt:
What to our selues in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of other Greefe or Ioy,
Their owne ennactors with themselues destroy:
Where Ioy most Reuels, Greefe doth most lament;
Greefe ioyes, Ioy greeues on slender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That euen our Loues should with our Fortunes change.
For 'tis a question left vs yet to proue,
Whether Loue lead Fortune, or else Fortune Loue.
The great man downe, you marke his fauourites flies,
The poore aduanc'd, makes Friends of Enemies:
And hitherto doth Loue on Fortune tend,
For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a Frend:
And who in want a hollow Friend doth try,
Directly seasons him his Enemie.
But orderly to end, where I begun,
Our Willes and Fates do so contrary run,
That our Deuices still are ouerthrowne,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne.
So thinke thou wilt no second Husband wed.
But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead
   Bap. Nor Earth to giue me food, nor Heauen light,
Sport and repose locke from me day and night:
Each opposite that blankes the face of ioy,
Meet what I would haue well, and it destroy:
Both heere, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,
If once a Widdow, euer I be Wife
   Ham. If she should breake it now
   King. 'Tis deepely sworne:
Sweet, leaue me heere a while,
My spirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile
The tedious day with sleepe
   Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine,
And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine.
  Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?
  Qu. The Lady protests to much me thinkes
   Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word
   King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offence
  Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence
   King. What do you call the Play?
  Ham. The Mouse-trap: Marry how? Tropically:
This Play is the Image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago
is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista: you shall see
anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that?
Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches
vs not: let the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung.
Enter Lucianus.
This is one Lucianus nephew to the King
   Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord
   Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue:
if I could see the Puppets dallying
   Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene
   Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my
   Ophe. Still better and worse
   Ham. So you mistake Husbands.
Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and
begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge
   Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt,
Drugges fit, and Time agreeing:
Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing:
Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected,
With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie,
On wholsome life, vsurpe immediately.
Powres the poyson in his eares.
  Ham. He poysons him i'th' Garden for's estate: His
name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choyce
Italian. You shall see anon how the Murtherer gets the
loue of Gonzago's wife
   Ophe. The King rises
   Ham. What, frighted with false fire
   Qu. How fares my Lord?
  Pol. Giue o're the Play
   King. Giue me some Light. Away
   All. Lights, Lights, Lights.
Manet Hamlet & Horatio.
  Ham. Why let the strucken Deere go weepe,
The Hart vngalled play:
For some must watch, while some must sleepe;
So runnes the world away.
Would not this Sir, and a Forrest of Feathers, if the rest of
my Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Prouinciall
Roses on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a crie
of Players sir
   Hor. Halfe a share
   Ham. A whole one I,
For thou dost know: Oh Damon deere,
This Realme dismantled was of Ioue himselfe,
And now reignes heere.
A verie verie Paiocke
   Hora. You might haue Rim'd
   Ham. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghosts word for
a thousand pound. Did'st perceiue?
  Hora. Verie well my Lord
   Ham. Vpon the talke of the poysoning?
  Hora. I did verie well note him.
Enter Rosincrance and Guildensterne.
  Ham. Oh, ha? Come some Musick. Come y Recorders:
For if the King like not the Comedie,
Why then belike he likes it not perdie.
Come some Musicke
   Guild. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you
   Ham. Sir, a whole History
   Guild. The King, sir
   Ham. I sir, what of him?
  Guild. Is in his retyrement, maruellous distemper'd
   Ham. With drinke Sir?
  Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller
   Ham. Your wisedome should shew it selfe more richer,
to signifie this to his Doctor: for for me to put him
to his Purgation, would perhaps plundge him into farre
more Choller
   Guild. Good my Lord put your discourse into some
frame, and start not so wildely from my affayre
   Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce
   Guild. The Queene your Mother, in most great affliction
of spirit, hath sent me to you
   Ham. You are welcome
   Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of
the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholsome
answer, I will doe your Mothers command'ment:
if not, your pardon, and my returne shall bee the end of
my Businesse
   Ham. Sir, I cannot
   Guild. What, my Lord?
  Ham. Make you a wholsome answere: my wits diseas'd.
But sir, such answers as I can make, you shal command:
or rather you say, my Mother: therfore no more
but to the matter. My Mother you say
   Rosin. Then thus she sayes: your behauior hath stroke
her into amazement, and admiration
   Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can so astonish a
Mother. But is there no sequell at the heeles of this Mothers
  Rosin. She desires to speake with you in her Closset,
ere you go to bed
   Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother.
Haue you any further Trade with vs?
  Rosin. My Lord, you once did loue me
   Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers
   Rosin. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper?
You do freely barre the doore of your owne Libertie,
if you deny your greefes to your Friend
   Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement
   Rosin. How can that be, when you haue the voyce of
the King himselfe, for your Succession in Denmarke?
  Ham. I, but while the grasse growes, the Prouerbe is
something musty.
Enter one with a Recorder.
O the Recorder. Let me see, to withdraw with you, why
do you go about to recouer the winde of mee, as if you
would driue me into a toyle?
  Guild. O my Lord, if my Dutie be too bold, my loue
is too vnmannerly
   Ham. I do not well vnderstand that. Will you play
vpon this Pipe?
  Guild. My Lord, I cannot
   Ham. I pray you
   Guild. Beleeue me, I cannot
   Ham. I do beseech you
   Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord
   Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying: gouerne these Ventiges
with your finger and thumbe, giue it breath with your
mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Musicke.
Looke you, these are the stoppes
   Guild. But these cannot I command to any vtterance
of hermony, I haue not the skill
   Ham. Why looke you now, how vnworthy a thing
you make of me: you would play vpon mee; you would
seeme to know my stops: you would pluck out the heart
of my Mysterie; you would sound mee from my lowest
Note, to the top of my Compasse: and there is much Musicke,
excellent Voice, in this little Organe, yet cannot
you make it. Why do you thinke, that I am easier to bee
plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what Instrument you will,
though you can fret me, you cannot play vpon me. God
blesse you Sir.
Enter Polonius.
  Polon. My Lord; the Queene would speak with you,
and presently
   Ham. Do you see that Clowd? that's almost in shape
like a Camell
   Polon. By'th' Masse, and it's like a Camell indeed
   Ham. Me thinkes it is like a Weazell
   Polon. It is back'd like a Weazell
   Ham. Or like a Whale?
  Polon. Verie like a Whale
   Ham. Then will I come to my Mother, by and by:
They foole me to the top of my bent.
I will come by and by
   Polon. I will say so.
  Ham. By and by, is easily said. Leaue me Friends:
'Tis now the verie witching time of night,
When Churchyards yawne, and Hell it selfe breaths out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter businesse as the day
Would quake to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother:
Oh Heart, loose not thy Nature; let not euer
The Soule of Nero, enter this firme bosome:
Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall,
I will speake Daggers to her, but vse none:
My Tongue and Soule in this be Hypocrites.
How in my words someuer she be shent,
To giue them Seales, neuer my Soule consent.
Enter King, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.
  King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with vs,
To let his madnesse range. Therefore prepare you,
I your Commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you:
The termes of our estate, may not endure
Hazard so dangerous as doth hourely grow
Out of his Lunacies
   Guild. We will our selues prouide:
Most holie and Religious feare it is
To keepe those many many bodies safe
That liue and feede vpon your Maiestie
   Rosin. The single
And peculiar life is bound
With all the strength and Armour of the minde,
To keepe it selfe from noyance: but much more,
That Spirit, vpon whose spirit depends and rests
The liues of many, the cease of Maiestie
Dies not alone; but like a Gulfe doth draw
What's neere it, with it. It is a massie wheele
Fixt on the Somnet of the highest Mount.
To whose huge Spoakes, ten thousand lesser things
Are mortiz'd and adioyn'd: which when it falles,
Each small annexment, pettie consequence
Attends the boystrous Ruine. Neuer alone
Did the King sighe, but with a generall grone
   King. Arme you, I pray you to this speedie Voyage;
For we will Fetters put vpon this feare,
Which now goes too free-footed
   Both. We will haste vs.
Exeunt. Gent.
Enter Polonius.
  Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mothers Closset:
Behinde the Arras Ile conuey my selfe
To heare the Processe. Ile warrant shee'l tax him home,
And as you said, and wisely was it said,
'Tis meete that some more audience then a Mother,
Since Nature makes them partiall, should o're-heare
The speech of vantage. Fare you well my Liege,
Ile call vpon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know
   King. Thankes deere my Lord.
Oh my offence is ranke, it smels to heauen,
It hath the primall eldest curse vpon't,
A Brothers murther. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharpe as will:
My stronger guilt, defeats my strong intent,
And like a man to double businesse bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect; what if this cursed hand
Were thicker then it selfe with Brothers blood,
Is there not Raine enough in the sweet Heauens
To wash it white as Snow? Whereto serues mercy,
But to confront the visage of Offence?
And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be fore-stalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being downe? Then Ile looke vp,
My fault is past. But oh, what forme of Prayer
Can serue my turne? Forgiue me my foule Murther:
That cannot be, since I am still possest
Of those effects for which I did the Murther.
My Crowne, mine owne Ambition, and my Queene:
May one be pardon'd, and retaine th' offence?
In the corrupted currants of this world,
Offences gilded hand may shoue by Iustice,
And oft 'tis seene, the wicked prize it selfe
Buyes out the Law; but 'tis not so aboue,
There is no shuffling, there the Action lyes
In his true Nature, and we our selues compell'd
Euen to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To giue in euidence. What then? What rests?
Try what Repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched state! Oh bosome, blacke as death!
Oh limed soule, that strugling to be free,
Art more ingag'd: Helpe Angels, make assay:
Bow stubborne knees, and heart with strings of Steele,
Be soft as sinewes of the new-borne Babe,
All may be well.
Enter Hamlet.
  Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,
And now Ile doo't, and so he goes to Heauen,
And so am I reueng'd: that would be scann'd,
A Villaine killes my Father, and for that
I his foule Sonne, do this same Villaine send
To heauen. Oh this is hyre and Sallery, not Reuenge.
He tooke my Father grossely, full of bread,
With all his Crimes broad blowne, as fresh as May,
And how his Audit stands, who knowes, saue Heauen:
But in our circumstance and course of thought
'Tis heauie with him: and am I then reueng'd,
To take him in the purging of his Soule,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No.
Vp Sword, and know thou a more horrid hent
When he is drunke asleepe: or in his Rage,
Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed,
At gaming, swearing, or about some acte
That ha's no rellish of Saluation in't,
Then trip him, that his heeles may kicke at Heauen,
And that his Soule may be as damn'd and blacke
As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stayes,
This Physicke but prolongs thy sickly dayes.
  King. My words flye vp, my thoughts remain below,
Words without thoughts, neuer to Heauen go.
Enter Queene and Polonius.
  Pol. He will come straight:
Looke you lay home to him,
Tell him his prankes haue been too broad to beare with,
And that your Grace hath screen'd, and stoode betweene
Much heate, and him. Ile silence me e'ene heere:
Pray you be round with him
   Ham. within. Mother, mother, mother
   Qu. Ile warrant you, feare me not.
Withdraw, I heare him coming.
Enter Hamlet.
  Ham. Now Mother, what's the matter?
  Qu. Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended
   Ham. Mother, you haue my Father much offended
   Qu. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue
   Ham. Go, go, you question with an idle tongue
   Qu. Why how now Hamlet?
  Ham. Whats the matter now?
  Qu. Haue you forgot me?
  Ham. No by the Rood, not so:
You are the Queene, your Husbands Brothers wife,
But would you were not so. You are my Mother
   Qu. Nay, then Ile set those to you that can speake
   Ham. Come, come, and sit you downe, you shall not
You go not till I set you vp a glasse,
Where you may see the inmost part of you?
  Qu. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?
Helpe, helpe, hoa
   Pol. What hoa, helpe, helpe, helpe
   Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead
   Pol. Oh I am slaine.
Killes Polonius
   Qu. Oh me, what hast thou done?
  Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King?
  Qu. Oh what a rash, and bloody deed is this?
  Ham. A bloody deed, almost as bad good Mother,
As kill a King, and marrie with his Brother
   Qu. As kill a King?
  Ham. I Lady, 'twas my word.
Thou wretched, rash, intruding foole farewell,
I tooke thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune,
Thou find'st to be too busie, is some danger.
Leaue wringing of your hands, peace, sit you downe,
And let me wring your heart, for so I shall
If it be made of penetrable stuffe;
If damned Custome haue not braz'd it so,
That it is proofe and bulwarke against Sense
   Qu. What haue I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tong,
In noise so rude against me?
  Ham. Such an Act
That blurres the grace and blush of Modestie,
Cals Vertue Hypocrite, takes off the Rose
From the faire forehead of an innocent loue,
And makes a blister there. Makes marriage vowes
As false as Dicers Oathes. Oh such a deed,
As from the body of Contraction pluckes
The very soule, and sweete Religion makes
A rapsidie of words. Heauens face doth glow,
Yea this solidity and compound masse,
With tristfull visage as against the doome,
Is thought-sicke at the act
   Qu. Aye me; what act, that roares so lowd, & thunders
in the Index
   Ham. Looke heere vpon this Picture, and on this,
The counterfet presentment of two Brothers:
See what a grace was seated on his Brow,
Hyperions curles, the front of Ioue himselfe,
An eye like Mars, to threaten or command
A Station, like the Herald Mercurie
New lighted on a heauen-kissing hill:
A Combination, and a forme indeed,
Where euery God did seeme to set his Seale,
To giue the world assurance of a man.
This was your Husband. Looke you now what followes.
Heere is your Husband, like a Mildew'd eare
Blasting his wholsom breath. Haue you eyes?
Could you on this faire Mountaine leaue to feed,
And batten on this Moore? Ha? Haue you eyes?
You cannot call it Loue: For at your age,
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waites vpon the Iudgement: and what Iudgement
Would step from this, to this? What diuell was't,
That thus hath cousend you at hoodman-blinde?
O Shame! where is thy Blush? Rebellious Hell,
If thou canst mutine in a Matrons bones,
To flaming youth, let Vertue be as waxe.
And melt in her owne fire. Proclaime no shame,
When the compulsiue Ardure giues the charge,
Since Frost it selfe, as actiuely doth burne,
As Reason panders Will
   Qu. O Hamlet, speake no more.
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soule,
And there I see such blacke and grained spots,
As will not leaue their Tinct
   Ham. Nay, but to liue
In the ranke sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stew'd in Corruption; honying and making loue
Ouer the nasty Stye
   Qu. Oh speake to me, no more,
These words like Daggers enter in mine eares.
No more sweet Hamlet
   Ham. A Murderer, and a Villaine:
A Slaue, that is not twentieth part the tythe
Of your precedent Lord. A vice of Kings,
A Cutpurse of the Empire and the Rule.
That from a shelfe, the precious Diadem stole,
And put it in his Pocket
   Qu. No more.
Enter Ghost.
  Ham. A King of shreds and patches.
Saue me; and houer o're me with your wings
You heauenly Guards. What would your gracious figure?
  Qu. Alas he's mad
   Ham. Do you not come your tardy Sonne to chide,
That laps't in Time and Passion, lets go by
Th' important acting of your dread command? Oh say
   Ghost. Do not forget: this Visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But looke, Amazement on thy Mother sits;
O step betweene her, and her fighting Soule,
Conceit in weakest bodies, strongest workes.
Speake to her Hamlet
   Ham. How is it with you Lady?
  Qu. Alas, how is't with you?
That you bend your eye on vacancie,
And with their corporall ayre do hold discourse.
Forth at your eyes, your spirits wildely peepe,
And as the sleeping Soldiours in th' Alarme,
Your bedded haire, like life in excrements,
Start vp, and stand an end. Oh gentle Sonne,
Vpon the heate and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle coole patience. Whereon do you looke?
  Ham. On him, on him: look you how pale he glares,
His forme and cause conioyn'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capeable. Do not looke vpon me,
Least with this pitteous action you conuert
My sterne effects: then what I haue to do,
Will want true colour; teares perchance for blood
   Qu. To who do you speake this?
  Ham. Do you see nothing there?
  Qu. Nothing at all, yet all that is I see
   Ham. Nor did you nothing heare?
  Qu. No, nothing but our selues
   Ham. Why look you there: looke how it steals away:
My Father in his habite, as he liued,
Looke where he goes euen now out at the Portall.
  Qu. This is the very coynage of your Braine,
This bodilesse Creation extasie is very cunning in
   Ham. Extasie?
My Pulse as yours doth temperately keepe time,
And makes as healthfull Musicke. It is not madnesse
That I haue vttered; bring me to the Test
And I the matter will re-word: which madnesse
Would gamboll from. Mother, for loue of Grace,
Lay not a flattering Vnction to your soule,
That not your trespasse, but my madnesse speakes:
It will but skin and filme the Vlcerous place,
Whil'st ranke Corruption mining all within,
Infects vnseene. Confesse your selfe to Heauen,
Repent what's past, auoyd what is to come,
And do not spred the Compost on the Weedes,
To make them ranke. Forgiue me this my Vertue,
For in the fatnesse of this pursie times,
Vertue it selfe, of Vice must pardon begge,
Yea courb, and woe, for leaue to do him good
   Qu. Oh Hamlet,
Thou hast cleft my heart in twaine
   Ham. O throw away the worser part of it,
And liue the purer with the other halfe.
Good night, but go not to mine Vnkles bed,
Assume a Vertue, if you haue it not, refraine to night,
And that shall lend a kinde of easinesse
To the next abstinence. Once more goodnight,
And when you are desirous to be blest,
Ile blessing begge of you. For this same Lord,
I do repent: but heauen hath pleas'd it so,
To punish me with this, and this with me,
That I must be their Scourge and Minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gaue him: so againe, good night.
I must be cruell, onely to be kinde;
Thus bad begins and worse remaines behinde
   Qu. What shall I do?
  Ham. Not this by no meanes that I bid you do:
Let the blunt King tempt you againe to bed,
Pinch Wanton on your cheeke, call you his Mouse,
And let him for a paire of reechie kisses,
Or padling in your necke with his damn'd Fingers,
Make you to rauell all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madnesse,
But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know,
For who that's but a Queene, faire, sober, wise,
Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe,
Such deere concernings hide, Who would do so,
No in despight of Sense and Secrecie,
Vnpegge the Basket on the houses top:
Let the Birds flye, and like the famous Ape
To try Conclusions in the Basket, creepe
And breake your owne necke downe
   Qu. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,
And breath of life: I haue no life to breath
What thou hast saide to me
   Ham. I must to England, you know that?
  Qu. Alacke I had forgot: 'Tis so concluded on
   Ham. This man shall set me packing:
Ile lugge the Guts into the Neighbor roome,
Mother goodnight. Indeede this Counsellor
Is now most still, most secret, and most graue,
Who was in life, a foolish prating Knaue.
Come sir, to draw toward an end with you.
Good night Mother.
Exit Hamlet tugging in Polonius.
  King. There's matters in these sighes.
These profound heaues
You must translate; Tis fit we vnderstand them.
Where is your Sonne?
  Qu. Ah my good Lord, what haue I seene to night?
  King. What Gertrude? How do's Hamlet?
  Qu. Mad as the Seas, and winde, when both contend
Which is the Mightier, in his lawlesse fit
Behinde the Arras, hearing something stirre,
He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat,
And in his brainish apprehension killes
The vnseene good old man
   King. Oh heauy deed:
It had bin so with vs had we beene there:
His Liberty is full of threats to all,
To you your selfe, to vs, to euery one.
Alas, how shall this bloody deede be answered?
It will be laide to vs, whose prouidence
Should haue kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt,
This mad yong man. But so much was our loue,
We would not vnderstand what was most fit,
But like the Owner of a foule disease,
To keepe it from divulging, let's it feede
Euen on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
  Qu. To draw apart the body he hath kild,
O're whom his very madnesse like some Oare
Among a Minerall of Mettels base
Shewes it selfe pure. He weepes for what is done
   King. Oh Gertrude, come away:
The Sun no sooner shall the Mountaines touch,
But we will ship him hence, and this vilde deed,
We must with all our Maiesty and Skill
Both countenance, and excuse.
Enter Ros. & Guild.
Ho Guildenstern:
Friends both go ioyne you with some further ayde:
Hamlet in madnesse hath Polonius slaine,
And from his Mother Clossets hath he drag'd him.
Go seeke him out, speake faire, and bring the body
Into the Chappell. I pray you hast in this.
Come Gertrude, wee'l call vp our wisest friends,
To let them know both what we meane to do,
And what's vntimely done. Oh come away,
My soule is full of discord and dismay.
Enter Hamlet.
  Ham. Safely stowed
   Gentlemen within. Hamlet, Lord Hamlet
   Ham. What noise? Who cals on Hamlet?
Oh heere they come.
Enter Ros. and Guildensterne.
  Ro. What haue you done my Lord with the dead body?
  Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis Kinne
   Rosin. Tell vs where 'tis, that we may take it thence,
And beare it to the Chappell
   Ham. Do not beleeue it
   Rosin. Beleeue what?
  Ham. That I can keepe your counsell, and not mine
owne. Besides, to be demanded of a Spundge, what replication
should be made by the Sonne of a King
   Rosin. Take you me for a Spundge, my Lord?
  Ham. I sir, that sokes vp the Kings Countenance, his
Rewards, his Authorities (but such Officers do the King
best seruice in the end. He keepes them like an Ape in
the corner of his iaw, first mouth'd to be last swallowed,
when he needes what you haue glean'd, it is but squeezing
you, and Spundge you shall be dry againe
   Rosin. I vnderstand you not my Lord
   Ham. I am glad of it: a knauish speech sleepes in a
foolish eare
   Rosin. My Lord, you must tell vs where the body is,
and go with vs to the King
   Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not
with the body. The King, is a thing-
  Guild. A thing my Lord?
  Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him, hide Fox, and all
  King. I haue sent to seeke him, and to find the bodie:
How dangerous is it that this man goes loose:
Yet must not we put the strong Law on him:
Hee's loued of the distracted multitude,
Who like not in their iudgement, but their eyes:
And where 'tis so, th' Offenders scourge is weigh'd
But neerer the offence: to beare all smooth, and euen,
This sodaine sending him away, must seeme
Deliberate pause, diseases desperate growne,
By desperate appliance are releeued,
Or not at all.
Enter Rosincrane.
How now? What hath befalne?
  Rosin. Where the dead body is bestow'd my Lord,
We cannot get from him
   King. But where is he?
  Rosin. Without my Lord, guarded to know your
   King. Bring him before vs
   Rosin. Hoa, Guildensterne? Bring in my Lord.
Enter Hamlet and Guildensterne.
  King. Now Hamlet, where's Polonius?
  Ham. At Supper
   King. At Supper? Where?
  Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten, a certaine
conuocation of wormes are e'ne at him. Your worm
is your onely Emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else
to fat vs, and we fat our selfe for Magots. Your fat King,
and your leane Begger is but variable seruice to dishes,
but to one Table that's the end
   King. What dost thou meane by this?
  Ham. Nothing but to shew you how a King may go
a Progresse through the guts of a Begger
   King. Where is Polonius
   Ham. In heauen, send thither to see. If your Messenger
finde him not there, seeke him i'th other place your
selfe: but indeed, if you finde him not this moneth, you
shall nose him as you go vp the staires into the Lobby
   King. Go seeke him there
   Ham. He will stay till ye come
   K. Hamlet, this deed of thine, for thine especial safety
Which we do tender, as we deerely greeue
For that which thou hast done, must send thee hence
With fierie Quicknesse. Therefore prepare thy selfe,
The Barke is readie, and the winde at helpe,
Th' Associates tend, and euery thing at bent
   Ham. For England?
  King. I Hamlet
   Ham. Good
   King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes
   Ham. I see a Cherube that see's him: but come, for
England. Farewell deere Mother
   King. Thy louing Father Hamlet
   Hamlet. My Mother: Father and Mother is man and
wife: man & wife is one flesh, and so my mother. Come,
for England.
  King. Follow him at foote,
Tempt him with speed aboord:
Delay it not, Ile haue him hence to night.
Away, for euery thing is Seal'd and done
That else leanes on th' Affaire, pray you make hast.
And England, if my loue thou holdst at ought,
As my great power thereof may giue thee sense,
Since yet thy Cicatrice lookes raw and red
After the Danish Sword, and thy free awe
Payes homage to vs; thou maist not coldly set
Our Soueraigne Processe, which imports at full
By Letters coniuring to that effect
The present death of Hamlet. Do it England,
For like the Hecticke in my blood he rages,
And thou must cure me: Till I know 'tis done,
How ere my happes, my ioyes were ne're begun.
Enter Fortinbras with an Armie.
  For. Go Captaine, from me greet the Danish King,
Tell him that by his license, Fortinbras
Claimes the conueyance of a promis'd March
Ouer his Kingdome. You know the Rendeuous:
If that his Maiesty would ought with vs,
We shall expresse our dutie in his eye,
And let him know so
   Cap. I will doo't, my Lord
   For. Go safely on.
Enter Queene and Horatio.
  Qu. I will not speake with her
   Hor. She is importunate, indeed distract, her moode
will needs be pittied
   Qu. What would she haue?
  Hor. She speakes much of her Father; saies she heares
There's trickes i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart,
Spurnes enuiously at Strawes, speakes things in doubt,
That carry but halfe sense: Her speech is nothing,
Yet the vnshaped vse of it doth moue
The hearers to Collection; they ayme at it,
And botch the words vp fit to their owne thoughts,
Which as her winkes, and nods, and gestures yeeld them,
Indeed would make one thinke there would be thought,
Though nothing sure, yet much vnhappily
   Qu. 'Twere good she were spoken with,
For she may strew dangerous coniectures
In ill breeding minds. Let her come in.
To my sicke soule (as sinnes true Nature is)
Each toy seemes Prologue, to some great amisse,
So full of Artlesse iealousie is guilt,
It spill's it selfe, in fearing to be spilt.
Enter Ophelia distracted.
  Ophe. Where is the beauteous Maiesty of Denmark
   Qu. How now Ophelia?
  Ophe. How should I your true loue know from another one?
By his Cockle hat and staffe, and his Sandal shoone
   Qu. Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song?
  Ophe. Say you? Nay pray you marke.
He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone,
At his head a grasse-greene Turfe, at his heeles a stone.
  Qu. Nay but Ophelia
   Ophe. Pray you marke.
White his Shrow'd as the Mountaine Snow
   Qu. Alas, looke heere my Lord
   Ophe. Larded with sweet Flowers:
Which bewept to the graue did not go,
With true-loue showres
   King. How do ye, pretty Lady?
  Ophe. Well, God dil'd you. They say the Owle was
a Bakers daughter. Lord, wee know what we are, but
know not what we may be. God be at your Table
   King. Conceit vpon her Father
   Ophe. Pray you let's haue no words of this: but when
they aske you what it meanes, say you this:
To morrow is S[aint]. Valentines day, all in the morning betime,
And I a Maid at your Window, to be your Valentine.
Then vp he rose, & don'd his clothes, & dupt the chamber dore,
Let in the Maid, that out a Maid, neuer departed more
   King. Pretty Ophelia
   Ophe. Indeed la? without an oath Ile make an end ont.
By gis, and by S[aint]. Charity,
Alacke, and fie for shame:
Yong men wil doo't, if they come too't,
By Cocke they are too blame.
Quoth she before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to Wed:
So would I ha done by yonder Sunne,
And thou hadst not come to my bed
   King. How long hath she bin thus?
  Ophe. I hope all will be well. We must bee patient,
but I cannot choose but weepe, to thinke they should
lay him i'th' cold ground: My brother shall knowe of it,
and so I thanke you for your good counsell. Come, my
Coach: Goodnight Ladies: Goodnight sweet Ladies:
Goodnight, goodnight.
  King. Follow her close,
Giue her good watch I pray you:
Oh this is the poyson of deepe greefe, it springs
All from her Fathers death. Oh Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrowes comes, they come not single spies,
But in Battalians. First, her Father slaine,
Next your Sonne gone, and he most violent Author
Of his owne iust remoue: the people muddied,
Thicke and vnwholsome in their thoughts, and whispers
For good Polonius death; and we haue done but greenly
In hugger mugger to interre him. Poore Ophelia
Diuided from her selfe, and her faire Iudgement,
Without the which we are Pictures, or meere Beasts.
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her Brother is in secret come from France,
Keepes on his wonder, keepes himselfe in clouds,
And wants not Buzzers to infect his eare
With pestilent Speeches of his Fathers death,
Where in necessitie of matter Beggard,
Will nothing sticke our persons to Arraigne
In eare and eare. O my deere Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering Peece in many places,
Giues me superfluous death.
A Noise within.
Enter a Messenger.
  Qu. Alacke, what noyse is this?
  King. Where are my Switzers?
Let them guard the doore. What is the matter?
  Mes. Saue your selfe, my Lord.
The Ocean (ouer-peering of his List)
Eates not the Flats with more impittious haste
Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head,
Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord,
And as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, Custome not knowne,
The Ratifiers and props of euery word,
They cry choose we? Laertes shall be King,
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
Laertes shall be King, Laertes King
   Qu. How cheerefully on the false Traile they cry,
Oh this is Counter you false Danish Dogges.
Noise within. Enter Laertes.
  King. The doores are broke
   Laer. Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without
   All. No, let's come in
   Laer. I pray you giue me leaue
   Al. We will, we will
   Laer. I thanke you: Keepe the doore.
Oh thou vilde King, giue me my Father
   Qu. Calmely good Laertes
   Laer. That drop of blood, that calmes
Proclaimes me Bastard:
Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot
Euen heere betweene the chaste vnsmirched brow
Of my true Mother
   King. What is the cause Laertes,
That thy Rebellion lookes so Gyant-like?
Let him go Gertrude: Do not feare our person:
There's such Diuinity doth hedge a King,
That Treason can but peepe to what it would,
Acts little of his will. Tell me Laertes,
Why thou art thus Incenst? Let him go Gertrude.
   Laer. Where's my Father?
  King. Dead
   Qu. But not by him
   King. Let him demand his fill
   Laer. How came he dead? Ile not be Iuggel'd with.
To hell Allegeance: Vowes, to the blackest diuell.
Conscience and Grace, to the profoundest Pit.
I dare Damnation: to this point I stand,
That both the worlds I giue to negligence,
Let come what comes: onely Ile be reueng'd
Most throughly for my Father
   King. Who shall stay you?
  Laer. My Will, not all the world,
And for my meanes, Ile husband them so well,
They shall go farre with little
   King. Good Laertes:
If you desire to know the certaintie
Of your deere Fathers death, if writ in your reuenge,
That Soop-stake you will draw both Friend and Foe,
Winner and Looser
   Laer. None but his Enemies
   King. Will you know them then
   La. To his good Friends, thus wide Ile ope my Armes:
And like the kinde Life-rend'ring Politician,
Repast them with my blood
   King. Why now you speake
Like a good Childe, and a true Gentleman.
That I am guiltlesse of your Fathers death,
And am most sensible in greefe for it,
It shall as leuell to your Iudgement pierce
As day do's to your eye.
A noise within. Let her come in.
Enter Ophelia.
  Laer. How now? what noise is that?
Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares seuen times salt,
Burne out the Sence and Vertue of mine eye.
By Heauen, thy madnesse shall be payed by waight,
Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Rose of May,
Deere Maid, kinde Sister, sweet Ophelia:
Oh Heauens, is't possible, a yong Maids wits,
Should be as mortall as an old mans life?
Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of it selfe
After the thing it loues
   Ophe. They bore him bare fac'd on the Beer,
Hey non nony, nony, hey nony:
And on his graue raines many a teare,
Fare you well my Doue
   Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Reuenge,
it could not moue thus
   Ophe. You must sing downe a-downe, and you call
him a-downe-a. Oh, how the wheele becomes it? It is
the false Steward that stole his masters daughter
   Laer. This nothings more then matter
   Ophe. There's Rosemary, that's for Remembraunce.
Pray loue remember: and there is Paconcies, that's for
   Laer. A document in madnesse, thoughts & remembrance
   Ophe. There's Fennell for you, and Columbines: ther's
Rew for you, and heere's some for me. Wee may call it
Herbe-Grace a Sundaies: Oh you must weare your Rew
with a difference. There's a Daysie, I would giue you
some Violets, but they wither'd all when my Father dyed:
They say, he made a good end;
For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy
   Laer. Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell it selfe:
She turnes to Fauour, and to prettinesse
   Ophe. And will he not come againe,
And will he not come againe:
No, no, he is dead, go to thy Death-bed,
He neuer wil come againe.
His Beard as white as Snow,
All Flaxen was his Pole:
He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone,
Gramercy on his Soule.
And of all Christian Soules, I pray God.
Exeunt. Ophelia
  Laer. Do you see this, you Gods?
  King. Laertes, I must common with your greefe,
Or you deny me right: go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest Friends you will,
And they shall heare and iudge 'twixt you and me;
If by direct or by Colaterall hand
They finde vs touch'd, we will our Kingdome giue,
Our Crowne, our Life, and all that we call Ours
To you in satisfaction. But if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to vs,
And we shall ioyntly labour with your soule
To giue it due content
   Laer. Let this be so:
His meanes of death, his obscure buriall;
No Trophee, Sword, nor Hatchment o're his bones,
No Noble rite, nor formall ostentation,
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from Heauen to Earth,
That I must call in question
   King. So you shall:
And where th' offence is, let the great Axe fall.
I pray you go with me.
Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.
  Hora. What are they that would speake with me?
  Ser. Saylors sir, they say they haue Letters for you
   Hor. Let them come in,
I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.
Enter Saylor.
  Say. God blesse you Sir
   Hor. Let him blesse thee too
   Say. Hee shall Sir, and't please him. There's a Letter
for you Sir: It comes from th' Ambassadours that was
bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let
to know it is.
Reads the Letter.
Horatio, When thou shalt haue ouerlook'd this, giue these
Fellowes some meanes to the King: They haue Letters
for him. Ere we were two dayes old at Sea, a Pyrate of very
Warlicke appointment gaue vs Chace. Finding our selues too
slow of Saile, we put on a compelled Valour. In the Grapple, I
boorded them: On the instant they got cleare of our Shippe, so
I alone became their Prisoner. They haue dealt with mee, like
Theeues of Mercy, but they knew what they did. I am to doe
a good turne for them. Let the King haue the Letters I haue
sent, and repaire thou to me with as much hast as thou wouldest
flye death. I haue words to speake in your eare, will make thee
dumbe, yet are they much too light for the bore of the Matter.
These good Fellowes will bring thee where I am. Rosincrance
and Guildensterne, hold their course for England. Of them
I haue much to tell thee, Farewell.
He that thou knowest thine,
Come, I will giue you way for these your Letters,
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
To him from whom you brought them.
Enter King and Laertes.
  King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,
And you must put me in your heart for Friend,
Sith you haue heard, and with a knowing eare,
That he which hath your Noble Father slaine,
Pursued my life
   Laer. It well appeares. But tell me,
Why you proceeded not against these feates,
So crimefull, and so Capitall in Nature,
As by your Safety, Wisedome, all things else,
You mainly were stirr'd vp?
  King. O for two speciall Reasons,
Which may to you (perhaps) seeme much vnsinnowed,
And yet to me they are strong. The Queen his Mother,
Liues almost by his lookes: and for my selfe,
My Vertue or my Plague, be it either which,
She's so coniunctiue to my life, and soule;
That as the Starre moues not but in his Sphere,
I could not but by her. The other Motiue,
Why to a publike count I might not go,
Is the great loue the generall gender beare him,
Who dipping all his Faults in their affection,
Would like the Spring that turneth Wood to Stone,
Conuert his Gyues to Graces. So that my Arrowes
Too slightly timbred for so loud a Winde,
Would haue reuerted to my Bow againe,
And not where I had arm'd them
   Laer. And so haue I a Noble Father lost,
A Sister driuen into desperate tearmes,
Who was (if praises may go backe againe)
Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age
For her perfections. But my reuenge will come
   King. Breake not your sleepes for that,
You must not thinke
That we are made of stuffe, so flat, and dull,
That we can let our Beard be shooke with danger,
And thinke it pastime. You shortly shall heare more,
I lou'd your Father, and we loue our Selfe,
And that I hope will teach you to imagine-
Enter a Messenger.
How now? What Newes?
  Mes. Letters my Lord from Hamlet, This to your
Maiesty: this to the Queene
   King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?
  Mes. Saylors my Lord they say, I saw them not:
They were giuen me by Claudio, he receiu'd them
   King. Laertes you shall heare them:
Exit Messenger
High and Mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your
Kingdome. To morrow shall I begge leaue to see your Kingly
Eyes. When I shall (first asking your Pardon thereunto) recount
th' Occasions of my sodaine, and more strange returne.
What should this meane? Are all the rest come backe?
Or is it some abuse? Or no such thing?
  Laer. Know you the hand?
  Kin. 'Tis Hamlets Character, naked and in a Postscript
here he sayes alone: Can you aduise me?
  Laer. I'm lost in it my Lord; but let him come,
It warmes the very sicknesse in my heart,
That I shall liue and tell him to his teeth;
Thus diddest thou
   Kin. If it be so Laertes, as how should it be so:
How otherwise will you be rul'd by me?
  Laer. If so you'l not o'rerule me to a peace
   Kin. To thine owne peace: if he be now return'd,
As checking at his Voyage, and that he meanes
No more to vndertake it; I will worke him
To an exployt now ripe in my Deuice,
Vnder the which he shall not choose but fall;
And for his death no winde of blame shall breath,
But euen his Mother shall vncharge the practice,
And call it accident: Some two Monthes hence
Here was a Gentleman of Normandy,
I'ue seene my selfe, and seru'd against the French,
And they ran well on Horsebacke; but this Gallant
Had witchcraft in't; he grew into his Seat,
And to such wondrous doing brought his Horse,
As had he beene encorps't and demy-Natur'd
With the braue Beast, so farre he past my thought,
That I in forgery of shapes and trickes,
Come short of what he did
   Laer. A Norman was't?
  Kin. A Norman
   Laer. Vpon my life Lamound
   Kin. The very same
   Laer. I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed,
And Iemme of all our Nation
   Kin. Hee mad confession of you,
And gaue you such a Masterly report,
For Art and exercise in your defence;
And for your Rapier most especiall,
That he cryed out, t'would be a sight indeed,
If one could match you Sir. This report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his Enuy,
That he could nothing doe but wish and begge,
Your sodaine comming ore to play with him;
Now out of this
   Laer. Why out of this, my Lord?
  Kin. Laertes was your Father deare to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?
  Laer. Why aske you this?
  Kin. Not that I thinke you did not loue your Father,
But that I know Loue is begun by Time:
And that I see in passages of proofe,
Time qualifies the sparke and fire of it:
Hamlet comes backe: what would you vndertake,
To show your selfe your Fathers sonne indeed,
More then in words?
  Laer. To cut his throat i'th' Church
   Kin. No place indeed should murder Sancturize;
Reuenge should haue no bounds: but good Laertes
Will you doe this, keepe close within your Chamber,
Hamlet return'd, shall know you are come home:
Wee'l put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gaue you, bring you in fine together,
And wager on your heads, he being remisse,
Most generous, and free from all contriuing,
Will not peruse the Foiles? So that with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A Sword vnbaited, and in a passe of practice,
Requit him for your Father
   Laer. I will doo't.
And for that purpose Ile annoint my Sword:
I bought an Vnction of a Mountebanke
So mortall, I but dipt a knife in it,
Where it drawes blood, no Cataplasme so rare,
Collected from all Simples that haue Vertue
Vnder the Moone, can saue the thing from death,
That is but scratcht withall: Ile touch my point,
With this contagion, that if I gall him slightly,
It may be death
   Kin. Let's further thinke of this,
Weigh what conuenience both of time and meanes
May fit vs to our shape, if this should faile;
And that our drift looke through our bad performance,
'Twere better not assaid; therefore this Proiect
Should haue a backe or second, that might hold,
If this should blast in proofe: Soft, let me see
Wee'l make a solemne wager on your commings,
I ha't: when in your motion you are hot and dry,
As make your bowts more violent to the end,
And that he cals for drinke; Ile haue prepar'd him
A Challice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
Our purpose may hold there; how sweet Queene.
Enter Queene.
  Queen. One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele,
So fast they'l follow: your Sister's drown'd Laertes
   Laer. Drown'd! O where?
  Queen. There is a Willow growes aslant a Brooke,
That shewes his hore leaues in the glassie streame:
There with fantasticke Garlands did she come,
Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daysies, and long Purples,
That liberall Shepheards giue a grosser name;
But our cold Maids doe Dead Mens Fingers call them:
There on the pendant boughes, her Coronet weeds
Clambring to hang; an enuious sliuer broke,
When downe the weedy Trophies, and her selfe,
Fell in the weeping Brooke, her cloathes spred wide,
And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her vp,
Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her owne distresse,
Or like a creature Natiue, and indued
Vnto that Element: but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heauy with her drinke,
Pul'd the poore wretch from her melodious buy,
To muddy death
   Laer. Alas then, is she drown'd?
  Queen. Drown'd, drown'd
   Laer. Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia,
And therefore I forbid my teares: but yet
It is our tricke, Nature her custome holds,
Let shame say what it will; when these are gone
The woman will be out: Adue my Lord,
I haue a speech of fire, that faine would blaze,
But that this folly doubts it.
  Kin. Let's follow, Gertrude:
How much I had to doe to calme his rage?
Now feare I this will giue it start againe;
Therefore let's follow.
Enter two Clownes.
  Clown. Is she to bee buried in Christian buriall, that
wilfully seekes her owne saluation?
  Other. I tell thee she is, and therefore make her Graue
straight, the Crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian
   Clo. How can that be, vnlesse she drowned her selfe in
her owne defence?
  Other. Why 'tis found so
   Clo. It must be Se offendendo, it cannot bee else: for
heere lies the point; If I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues
an Act: and an Act hath three branches. It is an
Act to doe and to performe; argall she drown'd her selfe
   Other. Nay but heare you Goodman Deluer
   Clown. Giue me leaue; heere lies the water; good:
heere stands the man; good: If the man goe to this water
and drowne himselfe; it is will he nill he, he goes;
marke you that? But if the water come to him & drowne
him; hee drownes not himselfe. Argall, hee that is not
guilty of his owne death, shortens not his owne life
   Other. But is this law?
  Clo. I marry is't, Crowners Quest Law
   Other. Will you ha the truth on't: if this had not
beene a Gentlewoman, shee should haue beene buried
out of Christian Buriall
   Clo. Why there thou say'st. And the more pitty that
great folke should haue countenance in this world to
drowne or hang themselues, more then their euen Christian.
Come, my Spade; there is no ancient Gentlemen,
but Gardiners, Ditchers and Graue-makers; they hold vp
Adams Profession
   Other. Was he a Gentleman?
  Clo. He was the first that euer bore Armes
   Other. Why he had none
   Clo. What, ar't a Heathen? how doth thou vnderstand
the Scripture? the Scripture sayes Adam dig'd;
could hee digge without Armes? Ile put another question
to thee; if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confesse
  Other. Go too
   Clo. What is he that builds stronger then either the
Mason, the Shipwright, or the Carpenter?
  Other. The Gallowes maker; for that Frame outliues a
thousand Tenants
   Clo. I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallowes
does well; but how does it well? it does well to those
that doe ill: now, thou dost ill to say the Gallowes is
built stronger then the Church: Argall, the Gallowes
may doe well to thee. Too't againe, Come
   Other. Who builds stronger then a Mason, a Shipwright,
or a Carpenter?
  Clo. I, tell me that, and vnyoake
   Other. Marry, now I can tell
   Clo. Too't
   Other. Masse, I cannot tell.
Enter Hamlet and Horatio a farre off.
  Clo. Cudgell thy braines no more about it; for your
dull Asse will not mend his pace with beating; and when
you are ask't this question next, say a Graue-maker: the
Houses that he makes, lasts till Doomesday: go, get thee
to Yaughan, fetch me a stoupe of Liquor.
In youth when I did loue, did loue,
me thought it was very sweete:
To contract O the time for a my behoue,
O me thought there was nothing meete
   Ham. Ha's this fellow no feeling of his businesse, that
he sings at Graue-making?
  Hor. Custome hath made it in him a property of easinesse
   Ham. 'Tis ee'n so; the hand of little Imployment hath
the daintier sense
   Clowne sings. But Age with his stealing steps
hath caught me in his clutch:
And hath shipped me intill the Land,
as if I had neuer beene such
   Ham. That Scull had a tongue in it, and could sing
once: how the knaue iowles it to th' grownd, as if it
were Caines Iaw-bone, that did the first murther: It
might be the Pate of a Polititian which this Asse o're Offices:
one that could circumuent God, might it not?
  Hor. It might, my Lord
   Ham. Or of a Courtier, which could say, Good Morrow
sweet Lord: how dost thou, good Lord? this
might be my Lord such a one, that prais'd my Lord such
a ones Horse, when he meant to begge it; might it not?
  Hor. I, my Lord
   Ham. Why ee'n so: and now my Lady Wormes,
Chaplesse, and knockt about the Mazard with a Sextons
Spade; heere's fine Reuolution, if wee had the tricke to
see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but
to play at Loggets with 'em? mine ake to thinke
   Clowne sings. A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade,
for and a shrowding-Sheete:
O a Pit of Clay for to be made,
for such a Guest is meete
   Ham. There's another: why might not that bee the
Scull of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his
Quillets? his Cases? his Tenures, and his Tricks? why
doe's he suffer this rude knaue now to knocke him about
the Sconce with a dirty Shouell, and will not tell him of
his Action of Battery? hum. This fellow might be in's
time a great buyer of Land, with his Statutes, his Recognizances,
his Fines, his double Vouchers, his Recoueries:
Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recouery of his Recoueries,
to haue his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? will his
Vouchers vouch him no more of his Purchases, and double
ones too, then the length and breadth of a paire of
Indentures? the very Conueyances of his Lands will
hardly lye in this Boxe; and must the Inheritor himselfe
haue no more? ha?
  Hor. Not a iot more, my Lord
   Ham. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes?
  Hor. I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too
   Ham. They are Sheepe and Calues that seek out assurance
in that. I will speake to this fellow: whose Graue's
  Clo. Mine Sir:
O a Pit of Clay for to be made,
for such a Guest is meete
   Ham. I thinke it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't
   Clo. You lye out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours:
for my part, I doe not lye in't; and yet it is mine
   Ham. Thou dost lye in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine:
'tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou
   Clo. 'Tis a quicke lye Sir, 'twill away againe from me
   Ham. What man dost thou digge it for?
  Clo. For no man Sir
   Ham. What woman then?
  Clo. For none neither
   Ham. Who is to be buried in't?
  Clo. One that was a woman Sir; but rest her Soule,
   Ham. How absolute the knaue is? wee must speake
by the Carde, or equiuocation will vndoe vs: by the
Lord Horatio, these three yeares I haue taken note of it,
the Age is growne so picked, that the toe of the Pesant
comes so neere the heeles of our Courtier, hee galls his
Kibe. How long hast thou been a Graue-maker?
  Clo. Of all the dayes i'th' yeare, I came too't that day
that our last King Hamlet o'recame Fortinbras
   Ham. How long is that since?
  Clo. Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that:
It was the very day, that young Hamlet was borne, hee
that was mad, and sent into England
   Ham. I marry, why was he sent into England?
  Clo. Why, because he was mad; hee shall recouer his
wits there; or if he do not, it's no great matter there
   Ham. Why?
  Clo. 'Twill not be seene in him, there the men are as
   Ham. How came he mad?
  Clo. Very strangely they say
   Ham. How strangely?
  Clo. Faith e'ene with loosing his wits
   Ham. Vpon what ground?
  Clo. Why heere in Denmarke: I haue bin sixeteene
heere, man and Boy thirty yeares
   Ham. How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot?
  Clo. Ifaith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we haue
many pocky Coarses now adaies, that will scarce hold
the laying in) he will last you some eight yeare, or nine
yeare. A Tanner will last you nine yeare
   Ham. Why he, more then another?
  Clo. Why sir, his hide is so tan'd with his Trade, that
he will keepe out water a great while. And your water,
is a sore Decayer of your horson dead body. Heres a Scull
now: this Scul, has laine in the earth three & twenty years
   Ham. Whose was it?
  Clo. A whoreson mad Fellowes it was;
Whose doe you thinke it was?
  Ham. Nay, I know not
   Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a
Flaggon of Renish on my head once. This same Scull
Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester
   Ham. This?
  Clo. E'ene that
   Ham. Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio,
a fellow of infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he
hath borne me on his backe a thousand times: And how
abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. Heere
hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft.
Where be your Iibes now? Your Gambals? Your
Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to
set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own
Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies
Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this
fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee
Horatio tell me one thing
   Hor. What's that my Lord?
  Ham. Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion
i'th' earth?
  Hor. E'ene so
   Ham. And smelt so? Puh
   Hor. E'ene so, my Lord
   Ham. To what base vses we may returne Horatio.
Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander,
till he find it stopping a bunghole
   Hor. 'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so
   Ham. No faith, not a iot. But to follow him thether
with modestie enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus.
Alexander died: Alexander was buried: Alexander returneth
into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make
Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conuerted)
might they not stopp a Beere-barrell?
Imperiall Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keepe the winde away.
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a Wall, t' expell the winters flaw.
But soft, but soft, aside; heere comes the King.
Enter King, Queene, Laertes, and a Coffin, with Lords attendant.
The Queene, the Courtiers. Who is that they follow,
And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken,
The Coarse they follow, did with disperate hand,
Fore do it owne life; 'twas some Estate.
Couch we a while, and mark
   Laer. What Cerimony else?
  Ham. That is Laertes, a very Noble youth: Marke
   Laer. What Cerimony else?
  Priest. Her Obsequies haue bin as farre inlarg'd.
As we haue warrantie, her death was doubtfull,
And but that great Command, o're-swaies the order,
She should in ground vnsanctified haue lodg'd,
Till the last Trumpet. For charitable praier,
Shardes, Flints, and Peebles, should be throwne on her:
Yet heere she is allowed her Virgin Rites,
Her Maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of Bell and Buriall
   Laer. Must there no more be done ?
  Priest. No more be done:
We should prophane the seruice of the dead,
To sing sage Requiem, and such rest to her
As to peace-parted Soules
   Laer. Lay her i'th' earth,
And from her faire and vnpolluted flesh,
May Violets spring. I tell thee (churlish Priest)
A Ministring Angell shall my Sister be,
When thou liest howling?
  Ham. What, the faire Ophelia?
  Queene. Sweets, to the sweet farewell.
I hop'd thou should'st haue bin my Hamlets wife:
I thought thy Bride-bed to haue deckt (sweet Maid)
And not t'haue strew'd thy Graue
   Laer. Oh terrible woer,
Fall ten times trebble, on that cursed head
Whose wicked deed, thy most Ingenious sence
Depriu'd thee of. Hold off the earth a while,
Till I haue caught her once more in mine armes:
Leaps in the graue.
Now pile your dust, vpon the quicke, and dead,
Till of this flat a Mountaine you haue made,
To o're top old Pelion, or the skyish head
Of blew Olympus
   Ham. What is he, whose griefes
Beares such an Emphasis? whose phrase of Sorrow
Coniure the wandring Starres, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
Hamlet the Dane
   Laer. The deuill take thy soule
   Ham. Thou prai'st not well,
I prythee take thy fingers from my throat;
Sir though I am not Spleenatiue, and rash,
Yet haue I something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wisenesse feare. Away thy hand
   King. Pluck them asunder
   Qu. Hamlet, Hamlet
   Gen. Good my Lord be quiet
   Ham. Why I will fight with him vppon this Theme.
Vntill my eielids will no longer wag
   Qu. Oh my Sonne, what Theame?
  Ham. I lou'd Ophelia; fortie thousand Brothers
Could not (with all there quantitie of Loue)
Make vp my summe. What wilt thou do for her?
  King. Oh he is mad Laertes,
  Qu. For loue of God forbeare him
   Ham. Come show me what thou'lt doe.
Woo't weepe? Woo't fight? Woo't teare thy selfe?
Woo't drinke vp Esile, eate a Crocodile?
Ile doo't. Dost thou come heere to whine;
To outface me with leaping in her Graue?
Be buried quicke with her, and so will I.
And if thou prate of Mountaines; let them throw
Millions of Akers on vs; till our ground
Sindging his pate against the burning Zone,
Make Ossa like a wart. Nay, and thou'lt mouth,
Ile rant as well as thou
   Kin. This is meere Madnesse:
And thus awhile the fit will worke on him:
Anon as patient as the female Doue,
When that her Golden Cuplet are disclos'd;
His silence will sit drooping
   Ham. Heare you Sir:
What is the reason that you vse me thus?
I lou'd you euer; but it is no matter:
Let Hercules himselfe doe what he may,
The Cat will Mew, and Dogge will haue his day.
  Kin. I pray you good Horatio wait vpon him,
Strengthen your patience in our last nights speech,
Wee'l put the matter to the present push:
Good Gertrude set some watch ouer your Sonne,
This Graue shall haue a liuing Monument:
An houre of quiet shortly shall we see;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be.
Enter Hamlet and Horatio
   Ham. So much for this Sir; now let me see the other,
You doe remember all the Circumstance
   Hor. Remember it my Lord?
  Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kinde of fighting,
That would not let me sleepe; me thought I lay
Worse then the mutines in the Bilboes, rashly,
(And praise be rashnesse for it) let vs know,
Our indiscretion sometimes serues vs well,
When our deare plots do paule, and that should teach vs,
There's a Diuinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will
   Hor. That is most certaine
   Ham. Vp from my Cabin
My sea-gowne scarft about me in the darke,
Grop'd I to finde out them; had my desire,
Finger'd their Packet, and in fine, withdrew
To mine owne roome againe, making so bold,
(My feares forgetting manners) to vnseale
Their grand Commission, where I found Horatio,
Oh royall knauery: An exact command,
Larded with many seuerall sorts of reason;
Importing Denmarks health, and Englands too,
With hoo, such Bugges and Goblins in my life,
That on the superuize no leasure bated,
No not to stay the grinding of the Axe,
My head should be struck off
   Hor. Ist possible?
  Ham. Here's the Commission, read it at more leysure:
But wilt thou heare me how I did proceed?
  Hor. I beseech you
   Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villaines,
Ere I could make a Prologue to my braines,
They had begun the Play. I sate me downe,
Deuis'd a new Commission, wrote it faire,
I once did hold it as our Statists doe,
A basenesse to write faire; and laboured much
How to forget that learning: but Sir now,
It did me Yeomans seriuce: wilt thou know
The effects of what I wrote?
  Hor. I, good my Lord
   Ham. An earnest Coniuration from the King,
As England was his faithfull Tributary,
As loue betweene them, as the Palme should flourish,
As Peace should still her wheaten Garland weare,
And stand a Comma 'tweene their amities,
And many such like Assis of great charge,
That on the view and know of these Contents,
Without debatement further, more or lesse,
He should the bearers put to sodaine death,
Not shriuing time allowed
   Hor. How was this seal'd?
  Ham. Why, euen in that was Heauen ordinate;
I had my fathers Signet in my Purse,
Which was the Modell of that Danish Seale:
Folded the Writ vp in forme of the other,
Subscrib'd it, gau't th' impression, plac't it safely,
The changeling neuer knowne: Now, the next day
Was our Sea Fight, and what to this was sement,
Thou know'st already
   Hor. So Guildensterne and Rosincrance, go too't
   Ham. Why man, they did make loue to this imployment
They are not neere my Conscience; their debate
Doth by their owne insinuation grow:
'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes
Betweene the passe, and fell incensed points
Of mighty opposites
   Hor. Why, what a King is this?
  Ham. Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now vpon
He that hath kil'd my King, and whor'd my Mother,
Popt in betweene th' election and my hopes,
Throwne out his Angle for my proper life,
And with such coozenage; is't not perfect conscience,
To quit him with this arme? And is't not to be damn'd
To let this Canker of our nature come
In further euill
   Hor. It must be shortly knowne to him from England
What is the issue of the businesse there
   Ham. It will be short,
The interim's mine, and a mans life's no more
Then to say one: but I am very sorry good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot my selfe;
For by the image of my Cause, I see
The Portraiture of his; Ile count his fauours:
But sure the brauery of his griefe did put me
Into a Towring passion
   Hor. Peace, who comes heere?
Enter young Osricke.
  Osr. Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmarke
   Ham. I humbly thank you Sir, dost know this waterflie?
  Hor. No my good Lord
   Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to
know him: he hath much Land, and fertile; let a Beast
be Lord of Beasts, and his Crib shall stand at the Kings
Messe; 'tis a Chowgh; but as I saw spacious in the possession
   Osr. Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leysure,
I should impart a thing to you from his Maiesty
   Ham. I will receiue it with all diligence of spirit; put
your Bonet to his right vse, 'tis for the head
   Osr. I thanke your Lordship, 'tis very hot
   Ham. No, beleeue mee 'tis very cold, the winde is
   Osr. It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed
   Ham. Mee thinkes it is very soultry, and hot for my
   Osr. Exceedingly, my Lord, it is very soultry, as 'twere
I cannot tell how: but my Lord, his Maiesty bad me signifie
to you, that he ha's laid a great wager on your head:
Sir, this is the matter
   Ham. I beseech you remember
   Osr. Nay, in good faith, for mine ease in good faith:
Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at
   Ham. What's his weapon?
  Osr. Rapier and dagger
   Ham. That's two of his weapons; but well
   Osr. The sir King ha's wag'd with him six Barbary horses,
against the which he impon'd as I take it, sixe French
Rapiers and Poniards, with their assignes, as Girdle,
Hangers or so: three of the Carriages infaith are very
deare to fancy, very responsiue to the hilts, most delicate
carriages, and of very liberall conceit
   Ham. What call you the Carriages?
  Osr. The Carriages Sir, are the hangers
   Ham. The phrase would bee more Germaine to the
matter: If we could carry Cannon by our sides; I would
it might be Hangers till then; but on sixe Barbary Horses
against sixe French Swords: their Assignes, and three
liberall conceited Carriages, that's the French but against
the Danish; why is this impon'd as you call it?
  Osr. The King Sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes betweene
you and him, hee shall not exceed you three hits;
He hath one twelue for mine, and that would come to
imediate tryall, if your Lordship would vouchsafe the
   Ham. How if I answere no?
  Osr. I meane my Lord, the opposition of your person
   Ham. Sir, I will walke heere in the Hall; if it please
his Maiestie, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let
the Foyles bee brought, the Gentleman willing, and the
King hold his purpose; I will win for him if I can: if
not, Ile gaine nothing but my shame, and the odde hits
   Osr. Shall I redeliuer you ee'n so?
  Ham. To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature
   Osr. I commend my duty to your Lordship
   Ham. Yours, yours; hee does well to commend it
himselfe, there are no tongues else for's tongue
   Hor. This Lapwing runs away with the shell on his
   Ham. He did Complie with his Dugge before hee
suck't it: thus had he and mine more of the same Beauty
that I know the drossie age dotes on; only got the tune of
the time, and outward habite of encounter, a kinde of
yesty collection, which carries them through & through
the most fond and winnowed opinions; and doe but blow
them to their tryalls: the Bubbles are out
   Hor. You will lose this wager, my Lord
   Ham. I doe not thinke so, since he went into France,
I haue beene in continuall practice; I shall winne at the
oddes: but thou wouldest not thinke how all heere about
my heart: but it is no matter
   Hor. Nay, good my Lord
   Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kinde of
gain-giuing as would perhaps trouble a woman
   Hor. If your minde dislike any thing, obey. I will forestall
their repaire hither, and say you are not fit
   Ham. Not a whit, we defie Augury; there's a speciall
Prouidence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not
to come: if it bee not to come, it will bee now: if it
be not now; yet it will come; the readinesse is all, since no
man ha's ought of what he leaues. What is't to leaue betimes?
Enter King, Queene, Laertes and Lords, with other Attendants with
and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.
  Kin. Come Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me
   Ham. Giue me your pardon Sir, I'ue done you wrong,
But pardon't as you are a Gentleman.
This presence knowes,
And you must needs haue heard how I am punisht
With sore distraction? What I haue done
That might your nature honour, and exception
Roughly awake, I heere proclaime was madnesse:
Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Neuer Hamlet.
If Hamlet from himselfe be tane away:
And when he's not himselfe, do's wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it:
Who does it then? His Madnesse? If't be so,
Hamlet is of the Faction that is wrong'd,
His madnesse is poore Hamlets Enemy.
Sir, in this Audience,
Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd euill,
Free me so farre in your most generous thoughts,
That I haue shot mine Arrow o're the house,
And hurt my Mother
   Laer. I am satisfied in Nature,
Whose motiue in this case should stirre me most
To my Reuenge. But in my termes of Honor
I stand aloofe, and will no reconcilement,
Till by some elder Masters of knowne Honor,
I haue a voyce, and president of peace
To keepe my name vngorg'd. But till that time,
I do receiue your offer'd loue like loue,
And wil not wrong it
   Ham. I do embrace it freely,
And will this Brothers wager frankely play.
Giue vs the Foyles: Come on
   Laer. Come one for me
   Ham. Ile be your foile Laertes, in mine ignorance,
Your Skill shall like a Starre i'th' darkest night,
Sticke fiery off indeede
   Laer. You mocke me Sir
   Ham. No by this hand
   King. Giue them the Foyles yong Osricke,
Cousen Hamlet, you know the wager
   Ham. Verie well my Lord,
Your Grace hath laide the oddes a'th' weaker side
   King. I do not feare it,
I haue seene you both:
But since he is better'd, we haue therefore oddes
   Laer. This is too heauy,
Let me see another
   Ham. This likes me well,
These Foyles haue all a length.
Prepare to play.
  Osricke. I my good Lord
   King. Set me the Stopes of wine vpon that Table:
If Hamlet giue the first, or second hit,
Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
Let all the Battlements their Ordinance fire,
The King shal drinke to Hamlets better breath,
And in the Cup an vnion shal he throw
Richer then that, which foure successiue Kings
In Denmarkes Crowne haue worne.
Giue me the Cups,
And let the Kettle to the Trumpets speake,
The Trumpet to the Cannoneer without,
The Cannons to the Heauens, the Heauen to Earth,
Now the King drinkes to Hamlet. Come, begin,
And you the Iudges beare a wary eye
   Ham. Come on sir
   Laer. Come on sir.
   Ham. Iudgement
   Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit
   Laer. Well: againe
   King. Stay, giue me drinke.
Hamlet, this Pearle is thine,
Here's to thy health. Giue him the cup,
Trumpets sound, and shot goes off.
  Ham. Ile play this bout first, set by a-while.
Come: Another hit; what say you?
  Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confesse
   King. Our Sonne shall win
   Qu. He's fat, and scant of breath.
Heere's a Napkin, rub thy browes,
The Queene Carowses to thy fortune, Hamlet
   Ham. Good Madam
   King. Gertrude, do not drinke
   Qu. I will my Lord;
I pray you pardon me
   King. It is the poyson'd Cup, it is too late
   Ham. I dare not drinke yet Madam,
   Qu. Come, let me wipe thy face
   Laer. My Lord, Ile hit him now
   King. I do not thinke't
   Laer. And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience
   Ham. Come for the third.
Laertes, you but dally,
I pray you passe with your best violence,
I am affear'd you make a wanton of me
   Laer. Say you so? Come on.
  Osr. Nothing neither way
   Laer. Haue at you now.
In scuffling they change Rapiers.
  King. Part them, they are incens'd
   Ham. Nay come, againe
   Osr. Looke to the Queene there hoa
   Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord?
  Osr. How is't Laertes?
  Laer. Why as a Woodcocke
To mine Sprindge, Osricke,
I am iustly kill'd with mine owne Treacherie
   Ham. How does the Queene?
  King. She sounds to see them bleede
   Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke.
Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke,
I am poyson'd
   Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd.
Treacherie, seeke it out
   Laer. It is heere Hamlet.
Hamlet, thou art slaine,
No Medicine in the world can do thee good.
In thee, there is not halfe an houre of life;
The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand,
Vnbated and envenom'd: the foule practise
Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe, heere I lye,
Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd:
I can no more, the King, the King's too blame
   Ham. The point envenom'd too,
Then venome to thy worke.
Hurts the King.
  All. Treason, Treason
   King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt
   Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous,
Damned Dane,
Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere?
Follow my Mother.
  Laer. He is iustly seru'd.
It is a poyson temp'red by himselfe:
Exchange forgiuenesse with me, Noble Hamlet;
Mine and my Fathers death come not vpon thee,
Nor thine on me.
  Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee.
I am dead Horatio, wretched Queene adiew,
You that looke pale, and tremble at this chance,
That are but Mutes or audience to this acte:
Had I but time (as this fell Sergeant death
Is strick'd in his Arrest) oh I could tell you.
But let it be: Horatio, I am dead,
Thou liu'st, report me and my causes right
To the vnsatisfied
   Hor. Neuer beleeue it.
I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane:
Heere's yet some Liquor left
   Ham. As th'art a man, giue me the Cup.
Let go, by Heauen Ile haue't.
Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name,
(Things standing thus vnknowne) shall liue behind me.
If thou did'st euer hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicitie awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paine,
To tell my Storie.
March afarre off, and shout within.
What warlike noyse is this?
Enter Osricke.
  Osr. Yong Fortinbras, with conquest come fro[m] Poland
To th' Ambassadors of England giues this warlike volly
   Ham. O I dye Horatio:
The potent poyson quite ore-crowes my spirit,
I cannot liue to heare the Newes from England,
But I do prophesie th' election lights
On Fortinbras, he ha's my dying voyce,
So tell him with the occurrents more and lesse,
Which haue solicited. The rest is silence. O, o, o, o.
  Hora. Now cracke a Noble heart:
Goodnight sweet Prince,
And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest,
Why do's the Drumme come hither?
Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassador, with Drumme, Colours,
  Fortin. Where is this sight?
  Hor. What is it ye would see;
If ought of woe, or wonder, cease your search
   For. His quarry cries on hauocke. Oh proud death,
What feast is toward in thine eternall Cell.
That thou so many Princes, at a shoote,
So bloodily hast strooke
   Amb. The sight is dismall,
And our affaires from England come too late,
The eares are senselesse that should giue vs hearing,
To tell him his command'ment is fulfill'd,
That Rosincrance and Guildensterne are dead:
Where should we haue our thankes?
  Hor. Not from his mouth,
Had it th' abilitie of life to thanke you:
He neuer gaue command'ment for their death.
But since so iumpe vpon this bloodie question,
You from the Polake warres, and you from England
Are heere arriued. Giue order that these bodies
High on a stage be placed to the view,
And let me speake to th' yet vnknowing world,
How these things came about. So shall you heare
Of carnall, bloudie, and vnnaturall acts,
Of accidentall iudgements, casuall slaughters
Of death's put on by cunning, and forc'd cause,
And in this vpshot, purposes mistooke,
Falne on the Inuentors head. All this can I
Truly deliuer
   For. Let vs hast to heare it,
And call the Noblest to the Audience.
For me, with sorrow, I embrace my Fortune,
I haue some Rites of memory in this Kingdome,
Which are to claime, my vantage doth
  Hor. Of that I shall haue alwayes cause to speake,
And from his mouth
Whose voyce will draw on more:
But let this same be presently perform'd,
Euen whiles mens mindes are wilde,
Lest more mischance
On plots, and errors happen
   For. Let foure Captaines
Beare Hamlet like a Soldier to the Stage,
For he was likely, had he beene put on
To haue prou'd most royally:
And for his passage,
The Souldiours Musicke, and the rites of Warre
Speake lowdly for him.
Take vp the body; Such a sight as this
Becomes the Field, but heere shewes much amis.
Go, bid the Souldiers shoote.
Exeunt. Marching: after the which, a Peale of Ordenance are shot
FINIS. The tragedie of HAMLET, Prince of Denmarke.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
Twelfe Night, Or what you will
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.
  Duke. If Musicke be the food of Loue, play on,
Giue me excesse of it: that surfetting,
The appetite may sicken, and so dye.
That straine agen, it had a dying fall:
O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound
That breathes vpon a banke of Violets;
Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more,
'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.
O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou,
That notwithstanding thy capacitie,
Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there,
Of what validity, and pitch so ere,
But falles into abatement, and low price
Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie,
That it alone, is high fantasticall
   Cu. Will you go hunt my Lord?
  Du. What Curio?
  Cu. The Hart
   Du. Why so I do, the Noblest that I haue:
O when mine eyes did see Oliuia first,
Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a Hart,
And my desires like fell and cruell hounds,
Ere since pursue me. How now what newes from her?
Enter Valentine.
  Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do returne this answer:
The Element it selfe, till seuen yeares heate,
Shall not behold her face at ample view:
But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke,
And water once a day her Chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to season
A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh
And lasting, in her sad remembrance
   Du. O she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of loue but to a brother,
How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else
That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart,
These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd
Her sweete perfections with one selfe king:
Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowres,
Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.
  Vio. What Country (Friends) is this?
  Cap. This is Illyria Ladie
   Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elizium,
Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors?
  Cap. It is perchance that you your selfe were saued
   Vio. O my poore brother, and so perchance may he be
   Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance,
Assure your selfe, after our ship did split,
When you, and those poore number saued with you,
Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother
Most prouident in perill, binde himselfe,
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practise)
To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea:
Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues,
So long as I could see
   Vio. For saying so, there's Gold:
Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie
The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey?
  Cap. I Madam well, for I was bred and borne
Not three houres trauaile from this very place
   Vio. Who gouernes heere?
  Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name
   Vio. What is his name?
  Cap. Orsino
   Vio. Orsino: I haue heard my father name him.
He was a Batchellor then
   Cap. And so is now, or was so very late:
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know
What great ones do, the lesse will prattle of,)
That he did seeke the loue of faire Oliuia
   Vio. What's shee?
  Cap. A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count
That dide some tweluemonth since, then leauing her
In the protection of his sonne, her brother,
Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue
(They say) she hath abiur'd the sight
And company of men
   Vio. O that I seru'd that Lady,
And might not be deliuered to the world
Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow
What my estate is
   Cap. That were hard to compasse,
Because she will admit no kinde of suite,
No, not the Dukes
   Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine,
And though that nature, with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee
I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites
With this thy faire and outward charracter.
I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously)
Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,
For such disguise as haply shall become
The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke,
Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing,
And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke,
That will allow me very worth his seruice.
What else may hap, to time I will commit,
Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit
   Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee,
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see
   Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.
  Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the
death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to
   Mar. By my troth sir Toby, you must come in earlyer
a nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions
to your ill houres
   To. Why let her except, before excepted
   Ma. I, but you must confine your selfe within the
modest limits of order
   To. Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am:
these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee
these boots too: and they be not, let them hang themselues
in their owne straps
   Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I
heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish
knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer
  To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke?
   To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria
   Ma. What's that to th' purpose?
  To. Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare
   Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates:
He's a very foole, and a prodigall
   To. Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gamboys,
and speaks three or four languages word for word
without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature
   Ma. He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that
he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath
the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling,
'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely
haue the gift of a graue
   Tob. By this hand they are scoundrels and substractors
that say so of him. Who are they?
  Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly
in your company
   To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke
to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke
in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not
drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a
parish top. What wench? Castiliano vulgo: for here coms
Sir Andrew Agueface.
Enter Sir Andrew.
  And. Sir Toby Belch. How now sir Toby Belch?
  To. Sweet sir Andrew
   And. Blesse you faire Shrew
   Mar. And you too sir
   Tob. Accost Sir Andrew, accost
   And. What's that?
  To. My Neeces Chamber-maid
   Ma. Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance
  Ma. My name is Mary sir
   And. Good mistris Mary, accost
   To, You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord
her, woe her, assayle her
   And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of Accost?
  Ma. Far you well Gentlemen
   To. And thou let part so Sir Andrew, would thou
mightst neuer draw sword agen
   And. And you part so mistris, I would I might neuer
draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue
fooles in hand?
  Ma. Sir, I haue not you by'th hand
   An. Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand
   Ma. Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your
hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke
   An. Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Metaphor?
  Ma. It's dry sir
   And. Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I
can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest?
  Ma. A dry iest Sir
   And. Are you full of them?
  Ma. I Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now
I let go your hand, I am barren.
  To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did
I see thee so put downe?
  An. Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Canarie
put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no
more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I
am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme
   To. No question
   An. And I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride
home to morrow sir Toby
   To. Pur-quoy my deere knight?
  An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had
bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing
dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the
   To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire
   An. Why, would that haue mended my haire?
  To. Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my nature
  An. But it becoms me wel enough, dost not?
  To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope
to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off
   An. Faith Ile home to morrow sir Toby, your niece wil
not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me:
the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her
   To. Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir
degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her
swear't. Tut there's life in't man
   And. Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th
strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Reuels
sometimes altogether
   To. Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?
  And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder
the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with
   To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
  And. Faith, I can cut a caper
   To. And I can cut the Mutton too't
   And. And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as
strong as any man in Illyria
   To. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue
these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take
dust, like mistris Mals picture? Why dost thou not goe
to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto?
My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much
as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou
meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by
the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vnder
the starre of a Galliard
   And. I, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a
dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?
  To. What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder
  And. Taurus? That sides and heart
   To. No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee caper.
Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.
  Val. If the Duke continue these fauours towards you
Cesario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known
you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger
   Vio. You either feare his humour, or my negligence,
that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is
he inconstant sir, in his fauours
   Val. No beleeue me.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
  Vio. I thanke you: heere comes the Count
   Duke. Who saw Cesario hoa?
  Vio. On your attendance my Lord heere
   Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cesario,
Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd
To thee the booke euen of my secret soule.
Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her,
Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow
Till thou haue audience
   Vio. Sure my Noble Lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me
   Du. Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds,
Rather then make vnprofited returne,
  Vio. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?
  Du. O then, vnfold the passion of my loue,
Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith;
It shall become thee well to act my woes:
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect
   Vio. I thinke not so, my Lord
   Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it;
For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres,
That say thou art a man: Dianas lip
Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe
Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound,
And all is semblatiue a womans part.
I know thy constellation is right apt
For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him,
All if you will: for I my selfe am best
When least in companie: prosper well in this,
And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine
   Vio. Ile do my best
To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife,
Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Maria, and Clowne.
  Ma. Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will
not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way
of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence
   Clo. Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this
world, needs to feare no colours
   Ma. Make that good
   Clo. He shall see none to feare
   Ma. A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y
saying was borne, of I feare no colours
   Clo. Where good mistris Mary?
  Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in
your foolerie
   Clo. Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: &
those that are fooles, let them vse their talents
   Ma. Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent,
or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to
  Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage:
and for turning away, let summer beare it out
   Ma. You are resolute then?
  Clo. Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points
  Ma. That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both
breake, your gaskins fall
   Clo. Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if
sir Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece
of Eues flesh, as any in Illyria
   Ma. Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my
Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.
  Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling:
those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue
fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a
wise man. For what saies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole,
then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady
   Ol. Take the foole away
   Clo. Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie
   Ol. Go too, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: besides
you grow dis-honest
   Clo. Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell
wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole
not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend,
he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher
mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu
that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that amends,
is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple
Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy?
As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a
flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I
say againe, take her away
   Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you
   Clo. Misprision in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullus
non facit monachum: that's as much to say, as I weare not
motley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue to
proue you a foole
   Ol. Can you do it?
  Clo. Dexteriously, good Madona
   Ol. Make your proofe
   Clo. I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my
Mouse of vertue answer mee
   Ol. Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your
   Clo. Good Madona, why mournst thou?
  Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death
   Clo. I thinke his soule is in hell, Madona
   Ol. I know his soule is in heauen, foole
   Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your
Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole,
   Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he
  Mal. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake
him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the
better foole
   Clow. God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the
better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be sworn that
I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence
that you are no Foole
   Ol. How say you to that Maluolio?
  Mal. I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such
a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with
an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone.
Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you
laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest
I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of
fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies
   Ol. O you are sicke of selfe-loue Maluolio, and taste
with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse,
and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts,
that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slander
in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle;
nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do
nothing but reproue
   Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou
speak'st well of fooles.
Enter Maria.
  Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman,
much desires to speake with you
   Ol. From the Count Orsino, is it?
  Ma I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and
well attended
   Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay?
  Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman
   Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but
madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio; If it be a suit
from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you
will, to dismisse it.
Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & people
   Clo. Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest
sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with
braines, for heere he comes.
Enter Sir Toby.
One of thy kin has a most weake Pia-mater
   Ol. By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the
  To. A Gentleman
   Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman?
  To. 'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle
herring: How now Sot
   Clo. Good Sir Toby
   Ol. Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by
this Lethargie?
  To. Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the
   Ol. I marry, what is he?
  To. Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: giue
me faith say I. Well, it's all one.
  Ol. What's a drunken man like, foole?
  Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man:
One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second
maddes him, and a third drownes him
   Ol. Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte
o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's
drown'd: go looke after him
   Clo. He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall
looke to the madman.
Enter Maluolio.
  Mal. Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee will
speake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes on
him to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speak
with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue
a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to
speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's
fortified against any deniall
   Ol. Tell him, he shall not speake with me
   Mal. Ha's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand at
your doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to
a bench, but hee'l speake with you
   Ol. What kinde o'man is he?
  Mal. Why of mankinde
   Ol. What manner of man?
  Mal. Of verie ill manner: hee'l speake with you, will
   Ol. Of what personage, and yeeres is he?
  Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough
for a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codling
when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing water,
betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd,
and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke his
mothers milke were scarse out of him
   Ol. Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman
   Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.
Enter Maria.
  Ol. Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face,
Wee'l once more heare Orsinos Embassie.
Enter Violenta.
  Vio. The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she?
  Ol. Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your will
   Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beautie.
I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house,
for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away my
speech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I haue
taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee sustaine
no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least
sinister vsage
   Ol. Whence came you sir?
  Vio. I can say little more then I haue studied, & that
question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee
modest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that | I
may proceede in my speech
   Ol. Are you a Comedian?
  Vio. No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie
phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you
the Ladie of the house?
  Ol. If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am
   Vio. Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your
selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to reserue.
But this is from my Commission: I will on with
my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of
   Ol. Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you
   Vio. Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis
   Ol. It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep
it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your
approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If
you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe:
'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so
skipping a dialogue
   Ma. Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way
   Vio. No good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer.
Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie;
tell me your minde, I am a messenger
   Ol. Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer,
when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office
   Vio. It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouerture
of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe
in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter
   Ol. Yet you began rudely. What are you?
What would you?
  Vio. The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I
learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I
would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares, Diuinity;
to any others, prophanation
   Ol. Giue vs the place alone,
We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?
  Vio. Most sweet Ladie
   Ol. A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide
of it. Where lies your Text?
  Vio. In Orsinoes bosome
   Ol. In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome?
  Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his hart
   Ol. O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more
  Vio. Good Madam, let me see your face
   Ol. Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to
negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text:
but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture.
Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well
  Vio. Excellently done, if God did all
   Ol. 'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and weather
   Vio. Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white,
Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell'st shee aliue,
If you will leade these graces to the graue,
And leaue the world no copie
   Ol. O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giue
out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried
and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my will: As,
Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,
with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth.
Were you sent hither to praise me?
  Vio. I see you what you are, you are too proud:
But if you were the diuell, you are faire:
My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue
Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd
The non-pareil of beautie
   Ol. How does he loue me?
  Vio. With adorations, fertill teares,
With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire
   Ol. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him
Yet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth;
In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,
And in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him:
He might haue tooke his answer long ago
   Vio. If I did loue you in my masters flame,
With such a suffring, such a deadly life:
In your deniall, I would finde no sence,
I would not vnderstand it
   Ol. Why, what would you?
  Vio. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate,
And call vpon my soule within the house,
Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue,
And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night:
Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,
And make the babling Gossip of the aire,
Cry out Oliuia: O you should not rest
Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth,
But you should pittie me
   Ol. You might do much:
What is your Parentage?
  Vio. Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well:
I am a Gentleman
   Ol. Get you to your Lord:
I cannot loue him: let him send no more,
Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe,
To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:
I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee
   Vio. I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse,
My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence.
Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue,
And let your feruour like my masters be,
Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.
  Ol. What is your Parentage?
Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;
I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art,
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit,
Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,
Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now?
Euen so quickly may one catch the plague?
Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections
With an inuisible, and subtle stealth
To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What hoa, Maluolio.
Enter Maluolio.
  Mal. Heere Madam, at your seruice
   Ol. Run after that same peeuish Messenger
The Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him
Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his Lord,
Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him:
If that the youth will come this way to morrow,
Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee Maluolio
   Mal. Madam, I will.
  Ol. I do I know not what, and feare to finde
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde:
Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe,
What is decreed, must be: and be this so.
Finis, Actus primus.
Actus Secundus, Scaena prima.
Enter Antonio & Sebastian.
  Ant. Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that
I go with you
   Seb. By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely
ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps distemper
yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue,
that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recompence
for your loue, to lay any of them on you
   An. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound
   Seb. No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere
extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch
of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am
willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners,
the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee
then Antonio, my name is Sebastian (which I call'd Rodorigo)
my father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I
know you haue heard of. He left behinde him, my selfe,
and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the Heauens had
beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, alter'd
that, for some houre before you tooke me from the
breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd
   Ant. Alas the day
   Seb. A Lady sir, though it was said shee much resembled
me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh
I could not with such estimable wonder ouer-farre beleeue
that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee
bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is
drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to
drowne her remembrance againe with more
   Ant. Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment
   Seb. O good Antonio, forgiue me your trouble
   Ant. If you will not murther me for my loue, let mee
be your seruant
   Seb. If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is
kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare
ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I
am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the
least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am
bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.
  Ant. The gentlenesse of all the gods go with thee:
I haue many enemies in Orsino's Court,
Else would I very shortly see thee there:
But come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.
  Mal. Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse Oliuia?
  Vio. Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since ariu'd
   Mal. She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might
haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your
selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord
into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one
thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe
in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking
of this: receiue it so
   Vio. She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it
   Mal. Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and
her will is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stooping
for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that
  Vio. I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady?
Fortune forbid my out-side haue not charm'd her:
She made good view of me, indeed so much,
That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speake in starts distractedly.
She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion
Inuites me in this churlish messenger:
None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none;
I am the man, if it be so, as tis,
Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame:
Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse,
Wherein the pregnant enemie does much.
How easie is it, for the proper false
In womens waxen hearts to set their formes:
Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee,
For such as we are made, if such we bee:
How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely,
And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him:
And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me:
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my maisters loue:
As I am woman (now alas the day)
What thriftlesse sighes shall poore Oliuia breath?
O time, thou must vntangle this, not I,
It is too hard a knot for me t' vnty.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
  To. Approach Sir Andrew: not to bee a bedde after
midnight, is to be vp betimes, and Deliculo surgere, thou
   And. Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to
be vp late, is to be vp late
   To. A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne.
To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early:
so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed betimes.
Does not our liues consist of the foure Elements?
  And. Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists
of eating and drinking
   To. Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke
Marian I say, a stoope of wine.
Enter Clowne.
  And. Heere comes the foole yfaith
   Clo. How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Picture
of we three?
  To. Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch
   And. By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I
had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so
sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast
in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of
Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the Equinoctial of
Queubus: 'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence
for thy Lemon, hadst it?
  Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity: for Maluolios nose
is no Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the
Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses
   An. Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when
all is done. Now a song
   To. Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue
   An. There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a
  Clo. Would you haue a loue-song, or a song of good
  To. A loue song, a loue song
   An. I, I. I care not for good life
   Clowne sings .
O Mistris mine where are you roming?
O stay and heare, your true loues coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further prettie sweeting.
Iourneys end in louers meeting,
Euery wise mans sonne doth know
   An. Excellent good, ifaith
   To. Good, good
   Clo. What is loue, tis not heereafter,
Present mirth, hath present laughter:
What's to come, is still vnsure.
In delay there lies no plentie,
Then come kisse me sweet and twentie:
Youths a stuffe will not endure
   An. A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight
   To. A contagious breath
   An. Very sweet, and contagious ifaith
   To. To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.
But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee
rowze the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three
soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that?
  And. And you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a
   Clo. Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well
   An. Most certaine: Let our Catch be, Thou Knaue
   Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knaue knight. I shall be constrain'd
in't, to call thee knaue, Knight
   An. 'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to
call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins, Hold thy peace
   Clo. I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace
   An. Good ifaith: Come begin.
Enter Maria.
  Mar. What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If
my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and
bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me
   To. My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios
a Peg-a-ramsie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I
consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. Ladie,
There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady
   Clo. Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling
   An. I, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so
do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more
   To. O the twelfe day of December
   Mar. For the loue o' God peace.
Enter Maluolio.
  Mal. My masters are you mad? Or what are you?
Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble
like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Alehouse
of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Coziers
Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice?
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
  To. We did keepe time sir in our Catches. Snecke vp
   Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My Lady
bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kinsman,
she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can
separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are welcome
to the house: if not, and it would please you to take
leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell
   To. Farewell deere heart, since I must needs be gone
   Mar. Nay good Sir Toby
   Clo. His eyes do shew his dayes are almost done
   Mal. Is't euen so?
  To. But I will neuer dye
   Clo. Sir Toby there you lye
   Mal. This is much credit to you
   To. Shall I bid him go
   Clo. What and if you do?
  To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
  Clo. O no, no, no, no, you dare not
   To. Out o' tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Steward?
Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there
shall be no more Cakes and Ale?
  Clo. Yes by S[aint]. Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th
   To. Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with
crums. A stope of Wine Maria
   Mal. Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour
at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue
meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this
  Mar. Go shake your eares
   An. 'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans
a hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake
promise with him, and make a foole of him
   To. Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile
deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth
   Mar. Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since
the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is
much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone
with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make
him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte enough
to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it
   To. Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him
   Mar. Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane
   An. O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge
   To. What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason,
deere knight
   An. I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason
   Mar. The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing
constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that
cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths.
The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes)
with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all
that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will
my reuenge finde notable cause to worke
   To. What wilt thou do?
  Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of
loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his
legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye,
forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most
feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie
your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make
distinction of our hands
   To. Excellent, I smell a deuice
   An. I hau't in my nose too
   To. He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop
that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue
   Mar. My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour
   An. And your horse now would make him an Asse
   Mar. Asse, I doubt not
   An. O twill be admirable
   Mar. Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Physicke
will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let
the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter:
obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and
dreame on the euent: Farewell.
  To. Good night Penthisilea
   An. Before me she's a good wench
   To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:
what o'that?
  An. I was ador'd once too
   To. Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for
   An. If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way
   To. Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th
end, call me Cut
   An. If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will
   To. Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late
to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others
   Du. Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends.
Now good Cesario, but that peece of song,
That old and Anticke song we heard last night;
Me thought it did releeue my passion much,
More then light ayres, and recollected termes
Of these most briske and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse
   Cur. He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that
should sing it?
  Du. Who was it?
  Cur. Feste the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the
   Du. Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.
Musicke playes.
Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me:
For such as I am, all true Louers are,
Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Saue in the constant image of the creature
That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
  Vio. It giues a verie eccho to the seate
Where loue is thron'd
   Du. Thou dost speake masterly,
My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye
Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues:
Hath it not boy?
  Vio. A little, by your fauour
   Du. What kinde of woman ist?
  Vio. Of your complection
   Du. She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?
  Vio. About your yeeres my Lord
   Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take
An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him;
So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart:
For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues,
Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme,
More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne,
Then womens are
   Vio. I thinke it well my Lord
   Du. Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre
Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre
   Vio. And so they are: alas, that they are so:
To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio & Clowne.
  Du. O fellow come, the song we had last night:
Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine;
The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun,
And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,
Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of loue,
Like the old age
   Clo. Are you ready Sir?
  Duke. I prethee sing.
Come away, come away death,
And in sad cypresse let me be laide.
Fye away, fie away breath,
I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:
My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it.
My part of death no one so true did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweete
On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne:
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:
A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me o where
Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there
   Du. There's for thy paines
   Clo. No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir
   Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then
   Clo. Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or
   Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee
   Clo. Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the
Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy
minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constancie
put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing,
and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes
makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
  Du. Let all the rest giue place: Once more Cesario,
Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie:
Tell her my loue, more noble then the world
Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands,
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her:
Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune:
But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems
That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule
   Vio. But if she cannot loue you sir
   Du. It cannot be so answer'd
   Vio. Sooth but you must.
Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is,
Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart
As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her:
You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
  Du. There is no womans sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart
So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.
Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat,
That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt,
But mine is all as hungry as the Sea,
And can digest as much, make no compare
Betweene that loue a woman can beare me,
And that I owe Oliuia
   Vio. I but I know
   Du. What dost thou knowe?
  Vio. Too well what loue women to men may owe:
In faith they are as true of heart, as we.
My Father had a daughter lou'd a man
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman
I should your Lordship
   Du. And what's her history?
  Vio. A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue,
But let concealment like a worme i'th budde
Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought,
And with a greene and yellow melancholly,
She sate like Patience on a Monument,
Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede?
We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed
Our shewes are more then will: for still we proue
Much in our vowes, but little in our loue
   Du. But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy?
  Vio. I am all the daughters of my Fathers house,
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this Lady?
  Du. I that's the Theame,
To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say,
My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
  To. Come thy wayes Signior Fabian
   Fab. Nay Ile come: if I loose a scruple of this sport,
let me be boyl'd to death with Melancholly
   To. Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggardly
Rascally sheepe-biter, come by some notable shame?
  Fa. I would exult man: you know he brought me out
o' fauour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting heere
   To. To anger him wee'l haue the Beare againe, and
we will foole him blacke and blew, shall we not sir Andrew?
  An. And we do not, it is pittie of our liues.
Enter Maria.
  To. Heere comes the little villaine: How now my
Mettle of India?
  Mar. Get ye all three into the box tree: Maluolio's
comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the
Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe
houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know
this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close
in the name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes
the Trowt, that must be caught with tickling.
Enter Maluolio.
  Mal. 'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once
told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her self come
thus neere, that should shee fancie, it should bee one of
my complection. Besides she vses me with a more exalted
respect, then any one else that followes her. What
should I thinke on't?
  To. Heere's an ouer-weening rogue
   Fa. Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey
Cocke of him, how he iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes
   And. Slight I could so beate the Rogue
   To. Peace I say
   Mal. To be Count Maluolio
   To. Ah Rogue
   An. Pistoll him, pistoll him
   To. Peace, peace
   Mal. There is example for't: The Lady of the Strachy,
married the yeoman of the wardrobe
   An. Fie on him Iezabel
   Fa. O peace, now he's deepely in: looke how imagination
   Mal. Hauing beene three moneths married to her,
sitting in my state
   To. O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye
   Mal. Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd
Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I
haue left Oliuia sleeping
   To. Fire and Brimstone
   Fa. O peace, peace
   Mal. And then to haue the humor of state: and after
a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my
place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my
kinsman Toby
   To. Boltes and shackles
   Fa. Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now
   Mal. Seauen of my people with an obedient start,
make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance
winde vp my watch, or play with my some rich Iewell:
Toby approaches; curtsies there to me
   To. Shall this fellow liue?
  Fa. Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars,
   Mal. I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my
familiar smile with an austere regard of controll
   To. And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lippes,
  Mal. Saying, Cosine Toby, my Fortunes hauing cast
me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech
   To. What, what?
  Mal. You must amend your drunkennesse
   To. Out scab
   Fab. Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our
  Mal. Besides you waste the treasure of your time,
with a foolish knight
   And. That's mee I warrant you
   Mal. One sir Andrew
   And. I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole
   Mal. What employment haue we heere?
  Fa. Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin
   To. Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate reading
aloud to him
   Mal. By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her
very C's, her V's, and her T's, and thus makes shee her
great P's. It is in contempt of question her hand
   An. Her C's, her V's, and her T's: why that?
  Mal. To the vnknowne belou'd, this, and my good Wishes:
Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the impressure
her Lucrece, with which she vses to seale: tis my
Lady: To whom should this be?
  Fab. This winnes him, Liuer and all
   Mal. Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no
man must know. No man must know. What followes?
The numbers alter'd: No man must know,
If this should be thee Maluolio?
  To. Marrie hang thee brocke
   Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lucresse
With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth
sway my life
   Fa. A fustian riddle
   To. Excellent Wench, say I
   Mal. M.O.A.I. doth sway my life. Nay but first
let me see, let me see, let me see
   Fab. What dish a poyson has she drest him?
  To. And with what wing the stallion checkes at it?
  Mal. I may command, where I adore: Why shee may
command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is
euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction
in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall position
portend, if I could make that resemble something
in me? Softly, M.O.A.I
   To. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent
   Fab. Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee
as ranke as a Fox
   Mal. M. Maluolio, M. why that begins my name
   Fab. Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre
is excellent at faults
   Mal. M. But then there is no consonancy in the sequell
that suffers vnder probation: A. should follow, but O.
   Fa. And O shall end, I hope
   To. I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O
   Mal. And then I. comes behind
   Fa. I, and you had any eye behinde you, you might
see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before
   Mal. M,O,A,I. This simulation is not as the former:
and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for euery
one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here followes
prose: If this fall into thy hand, reuolue. In my stars
I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse: Some
are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some
haue greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr
hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to invre
thy selfe to what thou art like to be: cast thy humble
slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman,
surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of
state; put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee
thus aduises thee, that sighes for thee. Remember who
commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee
euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe too, thou art
made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward
still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to
touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter
seruices with thee, the fortunate vnhappy daylight and
champian discouers not more: This is open, I will bee
proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir
Toby, I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point
deuise, the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let
imagination iade mee; for euery reason excites to this,
that my Lady loues me. She did commend my yellow
stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being crosse-garter'd,
and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, &
with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of
her liking. I thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee
strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crosse Garter'd,
euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my
starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript. Thou canst
not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let
it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. Therefore
in my presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee. Ioue
I thanke thee, I will smile, I wil do euery thing that thou
wilt haue me.
  Fab. I will not giue my part of this sport for a pension
of thousands to be paid from the Sophy
   To. I could marry this wench for this deuice
   An. So could I too
   To. And aske no other dowry with her, but such another
Enter Maria.
  An. Nor I neither
   Fab. Heere comes my noble gull catcher
   To. Wilt thou set thy foote o'my necke
   An. Or o'mine either?
  To. Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom
thy bondslaue?
  An. Ifaith, or I either?
  Tob. Why, thou hast put him in such a dreame, that
when the image of it leaues him, he must run mad
   Ma. Nay but say true, do's it worke vpon him?
  To. Like Aqua vite with a Midwife
   Mar. If you will then see the fruites of the sport, mark
his first approach before my Lady: hee will come to her
in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhorres, and
crosse garter'd, a fashion shee detests: and hee will smile
vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable to her disposition,
being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that it
cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil
see it follow me
   To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent diuell
   And. Ile make one too.
Finis Actus secundus
Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
Enter Viola and Clowne.
  Vio. Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue
by thy Tabor?
  Clo. No sir, I liue by the Church
   Vio. Art thou a Churchman?
  Clo. No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For,
I do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the
   Vio. So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a
begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor,
if thy Tabor stand by the Church
   Clo. You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is
but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the
wrong side may be turn'd outward
   Vio. Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with
words, may quickely make them wanton
   Clo. I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir
   Vio. Why man?
  Clo. Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with
that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede,
words are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them
   Vio. Thy reason man?
  Clo. Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes,
and wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue reason
   Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for
   Clo. Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my conscience
sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing
sir, I would it would make you inuisible
   Vio. Art not thou the Lady Oliuia's foole?
  Clo. No indeed sir, the Lady Oliuia has no folly, shee
will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are
as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Husbands
the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir corrupter
   Vio. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's
   Clo. Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the
Sun, it shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the
Foole should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mistris:
I thinke I saw your wisedome there
   Vio. Nay, and thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with
thee. Hold there's expences for thee
   Clo. Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send
thee a beard
   Vio. By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for
one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is
thy Lady within?
  Clo Would not a paire of these haue bred sir?
  Vio. Yes being kept together, and put to vse
   Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia sir, to bring
a Cressida to this Troylus
   Vio. I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd
   Clo. The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a
begger: Cressida was a begger. My Lady is within sir. I
will conster to them whence you come, who you are, and
what you would are out of my welkin, I might say Element,
but the word is ouer-worne.
  Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the foole,
And to do that well, craues a kinde of wit:
He must obserue their mood on whom he iests,
The quality of persons, and the time:
And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a Wise-mans Art:
For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit;
But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.
  To. Saue you Gentleman
   Vio. And you sir
   And. Dieu vou guard Monsieur
   Vio. Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture
   An. I hope sir, you are, and I am yours
   To. Will you incounter the house, my Neece is desirous
you should enter, if your trade be to her
   Vio. I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the
list of my voyage
   To. Taste your legges sir, put them to motion
   Vio. My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I vnderstand
what you meane by bidding me taste my legs
   To. I meane to go sir, to enter
   Vio. I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we
are preuented.
Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.
Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine Odours
   And. That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel
   Vio. My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne
most pregnant and vouchsafed eare
   And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: Ile get 'em
all three already
   Ol. Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to
my hearing. Giue me your hand sir
   Vio. My dutie Madam, and most humble seruice
   Ol. What is your name?
  Vio. Cesario is your seruants name, faire Princesse
   Ol. My seruant sir? 'Twas neuer merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd complement:
Y'are seruant to the Count Orsino youth
   Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours:
Your seruants seruant, is your seruant Madam
   Ol. For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me
   Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalfe
   Ol. O by your leaue I pray you.
I bad you neuer speake againe of him;
But would you vndertake another suite
I had rather heare you, to solicit that,
Then Musicke from the spheares
   Vio. Deere Lady
   Ol. Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send,
After the last enchantment you did heare,
A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse
My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you:
Vnder your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you in a shamefull cunning
Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake,
And baited it with all th' vnmuzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing
Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome,
Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake
   Vio. I pittie you
   Ol. That's a degree to loue
   Vio. No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe
That verie oft we pitty enemies
   Ol. Why then me thinkes 'tis time to smile agen:
O world, how apt the poore are to be proud?
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?
Clocke strikes.
The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time:
Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you,
And yet when wit and youth is come to haruest,
Your wife is like to reape a proper man:
There lies your way, due West
   Vio. Then Westward hoe:
Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship:
You'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me:
  Ol. Stay: I prethee tell me what thou thinkst of me?
  Vio. That you do thinke you are not what you are
   Ol. If I thinke so, I thinke the same of you
   Vio. Then thinke you right: I am not what I am
   Ol. I would you were, as I would haue you be
   Vio. Would it be better Madam, then I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your foole
   Ol. O what a deale of scorne, lookes beautifull?
In the contempt and anger of his lip,
A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone,
Then loue that would seeme hid: Loues night, is noone.
Cesario, by the Roses of the Spring,
By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing,
I loue thee so, that maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide:
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause:
But rather reason thus, with reason fetter;
Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better
   Vio. By innocence I sweare, and by my youth,
I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth,
And that no woman has, nor neuer none
Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone.
And so adieu good Madam, neuer more,
Will I my Masters teares to you deplore
   Ol. Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue
That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
  And. No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:
  To. Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason
   Fab. You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir Andrew?
  And. Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the
Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee:
I saw't i'th Orchard
   To. Did she see the while, old boy, tell me that
   And. As plaine as I see you now
   Fab. This was a great argument of loue in her toward
   And. S'light; will you make an Asse o'me
   Fab. I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of
iudgement, and reason
   To. And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before
Noah was a Saylor
   Fab. Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight,
onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour,
to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer:
you should then haue accosted her, and with some excellent
iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd
the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your
hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this opportunitie
you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into
the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang
like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do redeeme
it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or
   And. And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for
policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politician
   To. Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of
valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him
hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it,
and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world,
can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman,
then report of valour
   Fab. There is no way but this sir Andrew
   An. Will either of you beare me a challenge to him?
  To. Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe:
it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of
inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou
thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as many
Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the
sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in England,
set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle enough
in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen,
no matter: about it
   And. Where shall I finde you?
  To. Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
Exit Sir Andrew.
  Fa. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby
   To. I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand
strong, or so
   Fa. We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le
not deliuer't
   To. Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on
the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes
cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd
and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the
foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy
   Fab. And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no
great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.
  To. Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes
   Mar. If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your
selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull Maluolio is turned
Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian
that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer
beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in
yellow stockings
   To. And crosse garter'd?
  Mar. Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a
Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer.
He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt,
to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes,
then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the
Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hardly
forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will
strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great
   To. Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
Exeunt. Omnes.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.
  Seb. I would not by my will haue troubled you,
But since you make your pleasure of your paines,
I will no further chide you
   Ant. I could not stay behinde you: my desire
(More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth,
And not all loue to see you (though so much
As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage)
But iealousie, what might befall your trauell,
Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger,
Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue
Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue,
The rather by these arguments of feare
Set forth in your pursuite
   Seb. My kinde Anthonio,
I can no other answer make, but thankes,
And thankes: and euer oft good turnes,
Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay:
But were my worth, as is my conscience firme,
You should finde better dealing: what's to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?
  Ant. To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging?
  Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night
I pray you let vs satisfie our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame
That do renowne this City
   Ant. Would youl'd pardon me:
I do not without danger walke these streetes.
Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies,
I did some seruice, of such note indeede,
That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd
   Seb. Belike you slew great number of his people
   Ant. Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature,
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell
Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument:
It might haue since bene answer'd in repaying
What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sake
Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out,
For which if I be lapsed in this place
I shall pay deere
   Seb. Do not then walke too open
   Ant. It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse,
In the South Suburbes at the Elephant
Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge
With viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me
   Seb. Why I your purse?
  Ant. Haply your eye shall light vpon some toy
You haue desire to purchase: and your store
I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir
   Seb. Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue you
For an houre
   Ant. To th' Elephant
   Seb. I do remember.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Oliuia and Maria.
  Ol. I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come:
How shall I feast him? What bestow of him?
For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd.
I speake too loud: Where's Maluolio, he is sad, and ciuill,
And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes,
Where is Maluolio?
  Mar. He's comming Madame:
But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam
   Ol. Why what's the matter, does he raue?
  Mar. No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your Ladyship
were best to haue some guard about you, if hee
come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits
   Ol. Go call him hither.
Enter Maluolio.
I am as madde as hee,
If sad and merry madnesse equall bee.
How now Maluolio?
  Mal. Sweet Lady, ho, ho
   Ol. Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion
   Mal. Sad Lady, I could be sad:
This does make some obstruction in the blood:
This crosse-gartering, but what of that?
If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true
Sonnet is: Please one, and please all
   Mal. Why how doest thou man?
What is the matter with thee?
  Mal. Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my
legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall
be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane
   Ol. Wilt thou go to bed Maluolio?
  Mal. To bed? I sweet heart, and Ile come to thee
   Ol. God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and
kisse thy hand so oft?
  Mar. How do you Maluolio?
  Maluo. At your request:
Yes Nightingales answere Dawes
   Mar. Why appeare you with this ridiculous boldnesse
before my Lady
   Mal. Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ
   Ol. What meanst thou by that Maluolio?
  Mal. Some are borne great
  Mal. Some atcheeue greatnesse
   Ol. What sayst thou?
  Mal. And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them
   Ol. Heauen restore thee
   Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings
   Ol. Thy yellow stockings?
  Mal. And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd
   Ol. Crosse garter'd?
  Mal. Go too, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so
   Ol. Am I made?
  Mal. If not, let me see thee a seruant still
   Ol. Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse.
Enter Seruant.
  Ser. Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count
Orsino's is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he
attends your Ladyships pleasure
   Ol. Ile come to him.
Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my
Cosine Toby, let some of my people haue a speciall care
of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of
  Mal. Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse
man then sir Toby to looke to me. This concurres directly
with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may
appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in
the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be opposite
with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue
langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the
tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the
manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow
tongue, in the habite of some Sir of note, and so foorth.
I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me
thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fellow
be look'd too: Fellow? not Maluolio, nor after my
degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither,
that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no
obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What
can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene
me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I,
is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
  To. Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all
the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe
possest him, yet Ile speake to him
   Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir?
How ist with you man?
  Mal. Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate:
   Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him;
did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue
a care of him
   Mal. Ah ha, does she so?
  To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale
gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio?
How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider,
he's an enemy to mankinde
   Mal. Do you know what you say?
  Mar. La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how
he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd
   Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman
   Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning
if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile
   Mal. How now mistris?
  Mar. Oh Lord
   To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe
you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him
   Fa. No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend
is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd
   To. Why how now my bawcock? how dost y chuck?
   To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for
grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul
   Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette
   Mal. My prayers Minx
   Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse
   Mal. Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe
things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more
  To. Ist possible?
  Fa. If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could condemne
it as an improbable fiction
   To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the
   Mar. Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre,
   Fa. Why we shall make him mad indeede
   Mar. The house will be the quieter
   To. Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound.
My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may
carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our very
pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy
on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar
and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew.
  Fa. More matter for a May morning
   An. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's
vinegar and pepper in't
   Fab. Ist so sawcy?
  And. I, ist? I warrant him: do but read
   To. Giue me.
Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow
   Fa. Good, and valiant
   To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call
thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't
   Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of y Law
  To. Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses
thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter
I challenge thee for
   Fa. Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse
   To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance
   To. Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine
   Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good
   Tob. Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our
soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better,
and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy
sworne enemie, Andrew Ague-cheeke
   To. If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot:
Ile giu't him
   Mar. You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now
in some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by
   To. Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the corner
of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou
seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for
it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering
accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more
approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd
   And. Nay let me alone for swearing.
  To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behauiour
of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good
capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his
Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this
Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror
in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole.
But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth;
set vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue
the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it)
into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and
impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil
kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.
Enter Oliuia and Viola.
  Fab. Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way
till he take leaue, and presently after him
   To. I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message
for a Challenge
   Ol. I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone,
And laid mine honour too vnchary on't:
There's something in me that reproues my fault:
But such a head-strong potent fault it is,
That it but mockes reproofe
   Vio. With the same hauiour that your passion beares,
Goes on my Masters greefes
   Ol. Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture:
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you:
And I beseech you come againe to morrow.
What shall you aske of me that Ile deny,
That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue
   Vio. Nothing but this, your true loue for my master
   Ol. How with mine honor may I giue him that,
Which I haue giuen to you
   Vio. I will acquit you
   Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well,
A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to hell.
Enter Toby and Fabian.
  To. Gentleman, God saue thee
   Vio. And you sir
   To. That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of what
nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not:
but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hunter,
attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke,
be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skilfull,
   Vio. You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quarrell
to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from
any image of offence done to any man
   To. You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if
you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard:
for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill,
and wrath, can furnish man withall
   Vio. I pray you sir what is he?
  To. He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and
on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall,
soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incensement
at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction
can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob,
nob, is his word: giu't or take't
   Vio. I will returne againe into the house, and desire
some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard
of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on others,
to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that
   To. Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a very
computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him
his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you
vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you
might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword
starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or forsweare
to weare iron about you
   Vio. This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe
me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what
my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence,
nothing of my purpose
   To. I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by this
Gentleman, till my returne.
  Vio. Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?
  Fab. I know the knight is incenst against you, euen to
a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance
   Vio. I beseech you what manner of man is he?
  Fab. Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him
by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of
his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, &
fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie
part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make
your peace with him, if I can
   Vio. I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one,
that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care
not who knowes so much of my mettle.
Enter Toby and Andrew.
  To. Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such
a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all:
and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion
that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as
surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They
say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy
   And. Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him
   To. I but he will not now be pacified,
Fabian can scarse hold him yonder
   An. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant,
and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere
I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and
Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet
   To. Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good
shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules,
marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you.
Enter Fabian and Viola.
I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded
him the youths a diuell
   Fa. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, &
lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles
   To. There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's
oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his
quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth talking
of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe,
he protests he will not hurt you
   Vio. Pray God defend me: a little thing would make
me tell them how much I lacke of a man
   Fab. Giue ground if you see him furious
   To. Come sir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gentleman
will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you:
he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised
me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt
you. Come on, too't
   And. Pray God he keepe his oath.
Enter Antonio.
  Vio. I do assure you tis against my will
   Ant. Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman
Haue done offence, I take the fault on me:
If you offend him, I for him defie you
   To. You sir? Why, what are you?
  Ant. One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more
Then you haue heard him brag to you he will
   To. Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you.
Enter Officers.
  Fab. O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers
   To. Ile be with you anon
   Vio. Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please
   And. Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile
be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and
   1.Off. This is the man, do thy Office
   2.Off. Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino
  An. You do mistake me sir
   1.Off. No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well:
Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head:
Take him away, he knowes I know him well
   Ant. I must obey. This comes with seeking you:
But there's no remedie, I shall answer it:
What will you do: now my necessitie
Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd,
But be of comfort
   2.Off. Come sir away
   Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money
   Vio. What money sir?
For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere,
And part being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my leane and low ability
Ile lend you something: my hauing is not much,
Ile make diuision of my present with you:
Hold, there's halfe my Coffer
   Ant. Will you deny me now,
Ist possible that my deserts to you
Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery,
Least that it make me so vnsound a man
As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses
That I haue done for you
   Vio. I know of none,
Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabites our fraile blood
   Ant. Oh heauens themselues
   2.Off. Come sir, I pray you go
   Ant. Let me speake a little. This youth that you see heere,
I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death,
Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue;
And to his image, which me thought did promise
Most venerable worth, did I deuotion
   1.Off. What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away
   Ant. But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God:
Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame.
In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde:
None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde.
Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill
Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill
   1.Off. The man growes mad, away with him:
Come, come sir
   Ant. Leade me on.
  Vio. Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye
That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I:
Proue true imagination, oh proue true,
That I deere brother, be now tane for you
   To. Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: Weel
whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes
   Vio. He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother know
Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so
In fauour was my Brother, and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate: Oh if it proue,
Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue
   To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward
then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend
heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship
   Fab. A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in
   And. Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him
   To. Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword
  And. And I do not
   Fab. Come, let's see the euent
   To. I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter Sebastian and Clowne
   Clo. Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for
  Seb. Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow,
Let me be cleere of thee
   Clo. Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you,
nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come
speake with her: nor your name is not Master Cesario,
nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so
   Seb. I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou
know'st not me
   Clo. Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some
great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my folly:
I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a
Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell
me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that
thou art comming?
  Seb. I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's
money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse
   Clo. By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen
that giue fooles money, get themselues a good report,
after foureteene yeares purchase.
Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.
  And. Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you
   Seb. Why there's for thee, and there, and there,
Are all the people mad?
  To. Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house
  Clo. This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be
in some of your coats for two pence
   To. Come on sir, hold
   An. Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke
with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if
there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet
it's no matter for that
   Seb. Let go thy hand
   To. Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong
souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come
   Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst y now?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword
   To. What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or
two of this malapert blood from you.
Enter Oliuia.
  Ol. Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold
   To. Madam
   Ol. Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch,
Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues,
Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight.
Be not offended, deere Cesario:
Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend,
Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway
In this vnciuill, and vniust extent
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house,
And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes
This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby
Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe:
Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee,
He started one poore heart of mine, in thee
   Seb. What rellish is in this? How runs the streame?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame:
Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe,
If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe
   Ol. Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me
  Seb. Madam, I will
   Ol. O say so, and so be.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Maria and Clowne.
  Mar. Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard,
make him beleeue thou art sir Topas the Curate, doe it
quickly. Ile call sir Toby the whilst
   Clo. Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe
in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in
in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the
function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good
Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good houskeeper
goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great
scholler. The Competitors enter.
  To. Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson
   Clo. Bonos dies sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage
that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece
of King Gorbodacke, that that is, is: so I being M[aster]. Parson,
am M[aster]. Parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is?
  To. To him sir Topas
   Clow. What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison
   To. The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.
Maluolio within.
  Mal. Who cals there?
  Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluolio
the Lunaticke
   Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to my
   Clo. Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this
man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies?
  Tob. Well said M[aster]. Parson
   Mal. Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good
sir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee
heere in hideous darknesse
   Clo. Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the
most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones,
that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou
that house is darke?
  Mal. As hell sir Topas
   Clo. Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as baricadoes,
and the cleere stores toward the South north, are
as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of obstruction?
  Mal. I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is
   Clo. Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse
but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the
aegyptians in their fogge
   Mal. I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh
Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I say there was neuer
man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are,
make the triall of it in any constant question
   Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning
Wilde-fowle?
  Mal. That the soule of our grandam, might happily
inhabite a bird
   Clo. What thinkst thou of his opinion?
  Mal. I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue
   Clo. Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse,
thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow
of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dispossesse
the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well
   Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas
   Tob. My most exquisite sir Topas
   Clo. Nay I am for all waters
   Mar. Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd
and gowne, he sees thee not
   To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word
how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this
knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would
he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece,
that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppeshot.
Come by and by to my Chamber.
  Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady
   Mal. Foole
   Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdie
   Mal. Foole
   Clo. Alas why is she so?
  Mal. Foole, I say
   Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha?
  Mal. Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at
my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper:
as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee
   Clo. M[aster]. Maluolio?
  Mal. I good Foole
   Clo. Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?
  Mall. Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd:
I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art
   Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be
no better in your wits then a foole
   Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in
darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they
can to face me out of my wits
   Clo. Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere.
Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour
thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble
   Mal. Sir Topas
   Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow.
Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Marry
Amen. I will sir, I will
   Mal. Foole, foole, foole I say
   Clo. Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent
for speaking to you
   Mal. Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some
paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in
   Clo. Well-a-day, that you were sir
   Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper,
and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my
Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bearing
of Letter did
   Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not
mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit
   Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true
   Clo. Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains
I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke
   Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree:
I prethee be gone
   Clo. I am gone sir, and anon sir,
Ile be with you againe:
In a trice, like to the old vice,
your neede to sustaine.
Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath,
cries ah ha, to the diuell:
Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad,
Adieu good man diuell.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian.
This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne,
This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't,
And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's Anthonio then,
I could not finde him at the Elephant,
Yet there he was, and there I found this credite,
That he did range the towne to seeke me out,
His councell now might do me golden seruice,
For though my soule disputes well with my sence,
That this may be some error, but no madnesse,
Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune,
So farre exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am readie to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason that perswades me
To any other trust, but that I am mad,
Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her followers,
Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing
As I perceiue she do's: there's something in't
That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes.
Enter Oliuia, and Priest.
  Ol. Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well
Now go with me, and with this holy man
Into the Chantry by: there before him,
And vnderneath that consecrated roofe,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith,
That my most iealious, and too doubtfull soule
May liue at peace. He shall conceale it,
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note,
What time we will our celebration keepe
According to my birth, what do you say?
  Seb. Ile follow this good man, and go with you,
And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true
   Ol. Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine,
That they may fairely note this acte of mine.
Finis Actus Quartus.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Fabian.
  Fab. Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter
   Clo. Good M[aster]. Fabian, grant me another request
   Fab. Any thing
   Clo. Do not desire to see this Letter
   Fab. This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire
my dogge againe.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.
  Duke. Belong you to the Lady Oliuia, friends?
  Clo. I sir, we are some of her trappings
   Duke. I know thee well: how doest thou my good
  Clo. Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse
for my friends
   Du. Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends
   Clo. No sir, the worse
   Du. How can that be?
  Clo. Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me,
now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my
foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my
friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if
your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why
then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes
   Du. Why this is excellent
   Clo. By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be
one of my friends
   Du. Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold
   Clo. But that it would be double dealing sir, I would
you could make it another
   Du. O you giue me ill counsell
   Clo. Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once,
and let your flesh and blood obey it
   Du. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double
dealer: there's another
   Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the olde
saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good
tripping measure, or the belles of S[aint]. Bennet sir, may put
you in minde, one, two, three
   Du. You can foole no more money out of mee at this
throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to speak
with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my
bounty further
   Clo. Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come agen.
I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that
my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as
you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it
Enter Anthonio and Officers.
  Vio. Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee
   Du. That face of his I do remember well,
Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre:
A bawbling Vessell was he Captaine of,
For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable,
With which such scathfull grapple did he make,
With the most noble bottome of our Fleete,
That very enuy, and the tongue of losse
Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter?
  1.Offi. Orsino, this is that Anthonio
That tooke the Phoenix, and her fraught from Candy,
And this is he that did the Tiger boord,
When your yong Nephew Titus lost his legge;
Heere in the streets, desperate of shame and state,
In priuate brabble did we apprehend him
   Vio. He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side,
But in conclusion put strange speech vpon me,
I know not what 'twas, but distraction
   Du. Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe,
What foolish boldnesse brought thee to their mercies,
Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so deere
Hast made thine enemies?
  Ant. Orsino: Noble sir,
Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee:
Anthonio neuer yet was Theefe, or Pyrate,
Though I confesse, on base and ground enough
Orsino's enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither:
That most ingratefull boy there by your side,
From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeeme: a wracke past hope he was:
His life I gaue him, and did thereto adde
My loue without retention, or restraint,
All his in dedication. For his sake,
Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue)
Into the danger of this aduerse Towne,
Drew to defend him, when he was beset:
Where being apprehended, his false cunning
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twentie yeeres remoued thing
While one would winke: denide me mine owne purse,
Which I had recommended to his vse,
Not halfe an houre before
   Vio. How can this be?
  Du. When came he to this Towne?
  Ant. To day my Lord: and for three months before,
No intrim, not a minutes vacancie,
Both day and night did we keepe companie.
Enter Oliuia and attendants.
  Du. Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes
But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse,
Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee,
But more of that anon. Take him aside
   Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue,
Wherein Oliuia may seeme seruiceable?
Cesario, you do not keepe promise with me
   Vio. Madam:
  Du. Gracious Oliuia
   Ol. What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord
   Vio. My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me
   Ol. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord,
It is as fat and fulsome to mine eare
As howling after Musicke
   Du. Still so cruell?
  Ol. Still so constant Lord
   Du. What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill Ladie
To whose ingrate, and vnauspicious Altars
My soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd out
That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?
  Ol. Euen what it please my Lord, that shal becom him
  Du. Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it)
Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death
Kill what I loue: (a sauage iealousie,
That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this:
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screwes me from my true place in your fauour:
Liue you the Marble-brested Tirant still.
But this your Minion, whom I know you loue,
And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely,
Him will I teare out of that cruell eye,
Where he sits crowned in his masters spight.
Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischiefe:
Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do loue,
To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue
   Vio. And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye
   Ol. Where goes Cesario?
  Vio. After him I loue,
More then I loue these eyes, more then my life,
More by all mores, then ere I shall loue wife.
If I do feigne, you witnesses aboue
Punish my life, for tainting of my loue
   Ol. Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd?
  Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
  Ol. Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long?
Call forth the holy Father
   Du. Come, away
   Ol. Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay
   Du. Husband?
  Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny?
  Du. Her husband, sirrah?
  Vio. No my Lord, not I
   Ol. Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare,
That makes thee strangle thy propriety:
Feare not Cesario, take thy fortunes vp,
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st.
Enter Priest.
O welcome Father:
Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence
Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended
To keepe in darkenesse, what occasion now
Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know
Hath newly past, betweene this youth, and me
   Priest. A Contract of eternall bond of loue,
Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lippes,
Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings,
And all the Ceremonie of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue
I haue trauail'd but two houres
   Du. O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case?
Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow,
That thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow:
Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feete,
Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet
   Vio. My Lord, I do protest
   Ol. O do not sweare,
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare.
Enter Sir Andrew.
  And. For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one presently
   Ol. What's the matter?
  And. H'as broke my head acrosse, and has giuen Sir
  Toby a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your
helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home
   Ol. Who has done this sir Andrew?
  And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cesario: we tooke
him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate
   Du. My Gentleman Cesario?
  And. Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head
for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir
   Vio. Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you:
You drew your sword vpon me without cause,
But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not.
Enter Toby and Clowne.
  And. If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt
me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe.
Heere comes sir Toby halting, you shall heare more: but if
he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you
other gates then he did
   Du. How now Gentleman? how ist with you?
  To. That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th' end on't:
Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot?
  Clo. O he's drunke sir Toby an houre agone: his eyes
were set at eight i'th morning
   To. Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: I
hate a drunken rogue
   Ol. Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke
  And. Ile helpe you sir Toby, because we'll be drest together
   To. Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, &
a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull?
  Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too.
Enter Sebastian.
  Seb. I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman:
But had it beene the brother of my blood,
I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety.
You throw a strange regard vpon me, and by that
I do perceiue it hath offended you:
Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes
We made each other, but so late ago
   Du. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,
A naturall Perspectiue, that is, and is not
   Seb. Anthonio: O my deere Anthonio,
How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me,
Since I haue lost thee?
  Ant. Sebastian are you?
  Seb. Fear'st thou that Anthonio?
  Ant. How haue you made diuision of your selfe,
An apple cleft in two, is not more twin
Then these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
  Ol. Most wonderfull
   Seb. Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother:
Nor can there be that Deity in my nature
Of heere, and euery where. I had a sister,
Whom the blinde waues and surges haue deuour'd:
Of charity, what kinne are you to me?
What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage?
  Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my Father,
Such a Sebastian was my brother too:
So went he suited to his watery tombe:
If spirits can assume both forme and suite,
You come to fright vs
   Seb. A spirit I am indeed,
But am in that dimension grossely clad,
Which from the wombe I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen,
I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke,
And say, thrice welcome drowned Viola
   Vio. My father had a moale vpon his brow
   Seb. And so had mine
   Vio. And dide that day when Viola from her birth
Had numbred thirteene yeares
   Seb. O that record is liuely in my soule,
He finished indeed his mortall acte
That day that made my sister thirteene yeares
   Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happie both,
But this my masculine vsurp'd attyre:
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance,
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and iumpe
That I am Viola, which to confirme,
Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne,
Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe,
I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count:
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord
   Seb. So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke:
But Nature to her bias drew in that.
You would haue bin contracted to a Maid,
Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd,
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man
   Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood:
If this be so, as yet the glasse seemes true,
I shall haue share in this most happy wracke,
Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times,
Thou neuer should'st loue woman like to me
   Vio. And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare,
And all those swearings keepe as true in soule,
As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire,
That seuers day from night
   Du. Giue me thy hand,
And let me see thee in thy womans weedes
   Vio. The Captaine that did bring me first on shore
Hath my Maides garments: he vpon some Action
Is now in durance, at Maluolio's suite,
a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies
   Ol. He shall inlarge him: fetch Maluolio hither,
And yet alas, now I remember me,
They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract.
Enter Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.
A most extracting frensie of mine owne
From my remembrance, clearly banisht his.
How does he sirrah?
  Cl. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staues end as
well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to
you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a
madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much
when they are deliuer'd
   Ol. Open't, and read it
   Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole
deliuers the Madman. By the Lord Madam
   Ol. How now, art thou mad?
  Clo. No Madam, I do but reade madnesse: and your
Ladyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allow
   Ol. Prethee reade i'thy right wits
   Clo. So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to
reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue
   Ol. Read it you, sirrah
   Fab. Reads. By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and
the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into
darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me,
yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladieship.
I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the
semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to
do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of
me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of,
and speake out of my iniury. The madly vs'd Maluolio
   Ol. Did he write this?
  Clo. I Madame
   Du. This sauours not much of distraction
   Ol. See him deliuer'd Fabian, bring him hither:
My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on,
To thinke me as well a sister, as a wife,
One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you,
Heere at my house, and at my proper cost
   Du. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer:
Your Master quits you: and for your seruice done him,
So much against the mettle of your sex,
So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding,
And since you call'd me Master, for so long:
Heere is my hand, you shall from this time bee
Your Masters Mistris
   Ol. A sister, you are she.
Enter Maluolio.
  Du. Is this the Madman?
  Ol. I my Lord, this same: How now Maluolio?
  Mal. Madam, you haue done me wrong,
Notorious wrong
   Ol. Haue I Maluolio? No
   Mal. Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter.
You must not now denie it is your hand,
Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase,
Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention:
You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,
And tell me in the modestie of honor,
Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour,
Bad me come smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow stockings, and to frowne
Vpon sir Toby, and the lighter people:
And acting this in an obedient hope,
Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest,
And made the most notorious gecke and gull,
That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why?
  Ol. Alas Maluolio, this is not my writing,
Though I confesse much like the Charracter:
But out of question, tis Marias hand.
And now I do bethinke me, it was shee
First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,
And in such formes, which heere were presuppos'd
Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content,
This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee:
But when we know the grounds, and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the Plaintiffe and the Iudge
Of thine owne cause
   Fab. Good Madam heare me speake,
And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come,
Taint the condition of this present houre,
Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confesse my selfe, and Toby
Set this deuice against Maluolio heere,
Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous parts
We had conceiu'd against him. Maria writ
The Letter, at sir Tobyes great importance,
In recompence whereof, he hath married her:
How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd,
May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge,
If that the iniuries be iustly weigh'd,
That haue on both sides past
   Ol. Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee?
  Clo. Why some are borne great, some atchieue greatnesse,
and some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I
was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir Topas sir, but that's
all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you remember,
Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall,
and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge
of time, brings in his reuenges
   Mal. Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you?
  Ol. He hath bene most notoriously abus'd
   Du. Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace:
He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet,
When that is knowne, and golden time conuents
A solemne Combination shall be made
Of our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister,
We will not part from hence. Cesario come
(For so you shall be while you are a man:)
But when in other habites you are seene,
Orsino's Mistris, and his fancies Queene.
  Clowne sings .
When that I was and a little tine boy,
with hey, ho, the winde and the raine:
A foolish thing was but a toy,
for the raine it raineth euery day.
But when I came to mans estate,
with hey ho, &c.
Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate,
for the raine, &c.
But when I came alas to wiue,
with hey ho, &c.
By swaggering could I neuer thriue,
for the raine, &c.
But when I came vnto my beds,
with hey ho, &c.
With tospottes still had drunken heades,
for the raine, &c.
A great while ago the world begon,
But that's all one, our Play is done,
and wee'l striue to please you euery day.
FINIS. Twelfe Night, Or what you will.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
All's Well, that Ends Well
Actus primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena,
Lafew, all in blacke.
  Mother. In deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second
   Ros. And I in going Madam, weep ore my
fathers death anew; but I must attend his maiesties
command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore
in subiection
   Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame,
you sir a father. He that so generally is at all times good,
must of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthinesse
would stirre it vp where it wanted rather then lack
it where there is such abundance
   Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment?
  Laf. He hath abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder
whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope,
and finds no other aduantage in the processe, but onely
the loosing of hope by time
   Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that
had, how sad a passage tis, whose skill was almost as
great as his honestie, had it stretch'd so far, would haue
made nature immortall, and death should haue play for
lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing,
I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease
   Laf. How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?
  Mo. He was famous sir in his profession, and it was
his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon
   Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very
latelie spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee
was skilfull enough to haue liu'd stil, if knowledge could
be set vp against mortallitie
   Ros. What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes
  Laf. A Fistula my Lord
   Ros. I heard not of it before
   Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman
the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
  Mo. His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my
ouer looking. I haue those hopes of her good, that her
education promises her dispositions shee inherits, which
makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind carries
vertuous qualities, there commendations go with
pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are
the better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie,
and atcheeues her goodnesse
   Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her
   Mo. 'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise
in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her
heart, but the tirrany of her sorrowes takes all liuelihood
from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no
more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then
  Hell. I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too
   Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
excessiue greefe the enemie to the liuing
   Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excesse
makes it soone mortall
   Ros. Maddam I desire your holie wishes
   Laf. How vnderstand we that?
  Mo. Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy father
In manners as in shape: thy blood and vertue
Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnesse
Share with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few,
Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemie
Rather in power then vse: and keepe thy friend
Vnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence,
But neuer tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers plucke downe,
Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,
'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my Lord
   Laf. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his loue
   Mo. Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram
   Ro. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghts
be seruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your
Mistris, and make much of her
   Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the credit
of your father
   Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father,
And these great teares grace his remembrance more
Then those I shed for him. What was he like?
I haue forgott him. My imagination
Carries no fauour in't but Bertrams.
I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,
If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,
That I should loue a bright particuler starre,
And think to wed it, he is so aboue me
In his bright radience and colaterall light,
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;
Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:
The hind that would be mated by the Lion
Must die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plague
To see him euerie houre to sit and draw
His arched browes, his hawking eie, his curles
In our hearts table: heart too capeable
Of euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour.
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancie
Must sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?
Enter Parrolles.
One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake,
And yet I know him a notorious Liar,
Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward,
Yet these fixt euils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when Vertues steely bones
Lookes bleake i'th cold wind: withall, full ofte we see
Cold wisedome waighting on superfluous follie
   Par. Saue you faire Queene
   Hel. And you Monarch
   Hel. And no
   Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?
  Hel. I: you haue some staine of souldier in you: Let
mee aske you a question. Man is enemie to virginitie,
how may we barracado it against him?
  Par. Keepe him out
   Hel. But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant,
in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-like
   Par. There is none: Man setting downe before you,
will vndermine you, and blow you vp
   Hel. Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminers
and blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins
might blow vp men?
  Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will
quicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downe
againe, with the breach your selues made, you lose your
Citty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth of
Nature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, is
rationall encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, till
virginitie was first lost. That you were made of, is mettall
to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once lost,
may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euer
lost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't
   Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die
   Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against the
rule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, is
to accuse your Mothers; which is most infallible disobedience.
He that hangs himselfe is a Virgin: Virginitie
murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayes
out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against
Nature. Virginitie breedes mites, much like a
Cheese, consumes it selfe to the very payring, and so
dies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides, Virginitie
is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, which
is the most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not,
you cannot choose but loose by't. Out with't: within
ten yeare it will make it selfe two, which is a goodly increase,
and the principall it selfe not much the worse.
   Hel. How might one do sir, to loose it to her owne
  Par. Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne're
it likes. 'Tis a commodity wil lose the glosse with lying:
The longer kept, the lesse worth: Off with't while 'tis
vendible. Answer the time of request, Virginitie like
an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly
suted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick,
which were not now: your Date is better in your
Pye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and your
virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French
wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a
wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a
wither'd peare: Will you any thing with it?
  Hel. Not my virginity yet:
There shall your Master haue a thousand loues,
A Mother, and a Mistresse, and a friend,
A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy,
A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne,
A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare:
His humble ambition, proud humility:
His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet:
His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world
Of pretty fond adoptious christendomes
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he:
I know not what he shall, God send him well,
The Courts a learning place, and he is one
   Par. What one ifaith?
  Hel. That I wish well, 'tis pitty
   Par. What's pitty?
  Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,
Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And shew what we alone must thinke, which neuer
Returnes vs thankes.
  Pag. Monsieur Parrolles,
My Lord cals for you
   Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, I
will thinke of thee at Court
   Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder a
charitable starre
   Par. Vnder Mars I
   Hel. I especially thinke, vnder Mars
   Par. Why vnder Mars?
  Hel. The warres hath so kept you vnder, that you
must needes be borne vnder Mars
   Par. When he was predominant
   Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather
   Par. Why thinke you so?
  Hel. You go so much backward when you fight
   Par. That's for aduantage
   Hel. So is running away,
When feare proposes the safetie:
But the composition that your valour and feare makes
in you, is a vertue of a good wing, and I like the
   Paroll. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answere
thee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in the
which my instruction shall serue to naturalize thee, so
thou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderstand
what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thou
diest in thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makes
thee away, farewell: When thou hast leysure, say thy
praiers: when thou hast none, remember thy Friends:
Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee:
   Hel. Our remedies oft in our selues do lye,
Which we ascribe to heauen: the fated skye
Giues vs free scope, onely doth backward pull
Our slow designes, when we our selues are dull.
What power is it, which mounts my loue so hye,
That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune, Nature brings
To ioyne like, likes; and kisse like natiue things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their paines in sence, and do suppose
What hath beene, cannot be. Who euer stroue
To shew her merit, that did misse her loue?
(The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me,
But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.
Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diuers
  King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares,
Haue fought with equall fortune, and continue
A brauing warre
   1.Lo.G. So tis reported sir
   King. Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it,
A certaintie vouch'd from our Cosin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will moue vs
For speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friend
Preiudicates the businesse, and would seeme
To haue vs make deniall
   1.Lo.G. His loue and wisedome
Approu'd so to your Maiesty, may pleade
For amplest credence
   King. He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is deni'de before he comes:
Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to see
The Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaue
To stand on either part
   2.Lo.E. It well may serue
A nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sicke
For breathing, and exploit
   King. What's he comes heere.
Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.
  1.Lor.G. It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,
Yong Bertram
   King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,
Franke Nature rather curious then in hast
Hath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall parts
Maist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris
   Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties
   Kin. I would I had that corporall soundnesse now,
As when thy father, and my selfe, in friendship
First tride our souldiership: he did looke farre
Into the seruice of the time, and was
Discipled of the brauest. He lasted long,
But on vs both did haggish Age steale on,
And wore vs out of act: It much repaires me
To talke of your good father; in his youth
He had the wit, which I can well obserue
To day in our yong Lords: but they may iest
Till their owne scorne returne to them vnnoted
Ere they can hide their leuitie in honour:
So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesse
Were in his pride, or sharpnesse; if they were,
His equall had awak'd them, and his honour
Clocke to it selfe, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speake: and at this time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,
He vs'd as creatures of another place,
And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,
Making them proud of his humilitie,
In their poore praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copie to these yonger times;
Which followed well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward
   Ber. His good remembrance sir
Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:
So in approofe liues not his Epitaph,
As in your royall speech
   King. Would I were with him he would alwaies say,
(Me thinkes I heare him now) his plausiue words
He scatter'd not in eares, but grafted them
To grow there and to beare: Let me not liue,
This his good melancholly oft began
On the Catastrophe and heele of pastime
When it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee)
After my flame lackes oyle, to be the snuffe
Of yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue senses
All but new things disdaine; whose iudgements are
Meere fathers of their garments: whose constancies
Expire before their fashions: this he wish'd.
I after him, do after him wish too:
Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home,
I quickly were dissolued from my hiue
To giue some Labourers roome
   2.L.E. You'r loued Sir,
They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first
   Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long ist Count
Since the Physitian at your fathers died?
He was much fam'd
   Ber. Some six moneths since my Lord
   Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arme: the rest haue worne me out
With seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesse
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome Count,
My sonne's no deerer
   Ber. Thanke your Maiesty.
Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.
  Coun. I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman
   Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content,
I wish might be found in the Kalender of my past
endeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and make
foule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our selues
we publish them
   Coun. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone
sirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all beleeue,
'tis my slownesse that I doe not: For I know you
lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough
to make such knaueries yours
   Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore
   Coun. Well sir
   Clo. No maddam,
'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie
of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships
good will to goe to the world, Isbell the woman and I
will doe as we may
   Coun. Wilt thou needes be a begger?
  Clo. I doe beg your good will in this case
   Cou. In what case?
  Clo. In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage,
and I thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God,
till I haue issue a my bodie: for they say barnes are blessings
   Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?
  Clo. My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuen
on by the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuell
   Cou. Is this all your worships reason?
  Clo. Faith Madam I haue other holie reasons, such as
   Cou. May the world know them?
  Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you
and all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that
I may repent
   Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse
   Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue
friends for my wiues sake
   Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue
   Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the
knaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of:
he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues mee
leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's my
drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of
my flesh and blood; hee that cherishes my flesh and
blood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues my flesh
and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my
friend: if men could be contented to be what they are,
there were no feare in marriage, for yong Charbon the
Puritan, and old Poysam the Papist, how somere their
hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one,
they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd
   Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious
  Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth the
next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full
true shall finde, your marriage comes by destinie, your
Cuckow sings by kinde
   Cou. Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon
   Stew. May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellen
come to you, of her I am to speake
   Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake with
her, Hellen I meane
   Clo. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy,
Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be
good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one
   Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song
   Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying
ath' song: would God would serue the world so
all the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe woman
if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee might
haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre,
or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a
man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one
   Cou. Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command
  Clo. That man should be at womans command, and
yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet
it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie
ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am going
forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither.
  Cou. Well now
   Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman
   Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee,
and she her selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie
make title to as much loue as shee findes, there is
more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid
her then sheele demand
   Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then
I thinke shee wisht mee, alone shee was, and did
communicate to her selfe her owne words to her
owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they
toucht not anie stranger sence, her matter was, shee
loued your Sonne; Fortune shee said was no goddesse,
that had put such difference betwixt their two
estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might
onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins,
that would suffer her poore Knight surpris'd
without rescue in the first assault or ransome afterward:
This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch of
sorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held
my dutie speedily to acquaint you withall, sithence in
the losse that may happen, it concernes you something
   Cou. You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe it
to your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this
before, which hung so tottring in the ballance, that
I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you
leaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thanke
you for your honest care: I will speake with you further
Exit Steward.
Enter Hellen.
  Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong:
If euer we are natures, these are ours, this thorne
Doth to our Rose of youth rightlie belong
Our bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,
It is the show, and seale of natures truth,
Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,
By our remembrances of daies forgon,
Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,
Her eie is sicke on't, I obserue her now
   Hell. What is your pleasure Madam?
  Ol.Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you
   Hell. Mine honorable Mistris
   Ol.Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I
sed a mother
Me thought you saw a serpent, what's in mother,
That you start at it? I say I am your mother,
And put you in the Catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine, 'tis often seene
Adoption striues with nature, and choise breedes
A natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes:
You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,
Yet I expresse to you a mothers care,
(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy blood
To say I am thy mother? what's the matter,
That this distempered messenger of wet?
The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye? - Why, that you are my
  Hell. That I am not
   Old.Cou. I say I am your Mother
   Hell. Pardon Madam.
The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honored name:
No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,
My Master, my deere Lord he is, and I
His seruant liue, and will his vassall die:
He must not be my brother
   Ol.Cou. Nor I your Mother
   Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you were
So that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,
Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,
I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,
So I were not his sister, cant no other,
But I your daughter, he must be my brother
   Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,
God shield you meane it not, daughter and mother
So striue vpon your pulse; what pale agen?
My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I see
The mistrie of your louelinesse, and finde
Your salt teares head, now to all sence 'tis grosse:
You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'd
Against the proclamation of thy passion
To say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,
But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes
Confesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eies
See it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,
That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinne
And hellish obstinacie tye thy tongue
That truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?
If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:
If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,
As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile
To tell me truelie
   Hell. Good Madam pardon me
   Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?
  Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris
   Cou. Loue you my Sonne?
  Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?
  Cou. Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bond
Whereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose:
The state of your affection, for your passions
Haue to the full appeach'd
   Hell. Then I confesse
Here on my knee, before high heauen and you,
That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your
My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue:
Be not offended, for it hurts not him
That he is lou'd of me; I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suite,
Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,
Yet neuer know how that desert should be:
I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope:
Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.
I still poure in the waters of my loue
And lacke not to loose still; thus Indian like
Religious in mine error, I adore
The Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,
But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,
Let not your hate incounter with my loue,
For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,
Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,
Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your Dian
Was both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittie
To her whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and giue where she is sure to loose;
That seekes not to finde that, her search implies,
But riddle like, liues sweetely where she dies
   Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speake truely,
To goe to Paris?
  Hell. Madam I had
   Cou. Wherefore? tell true
   Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare:
You know my Father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and prou'd effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience, had collected
For generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd me
In heedefull'st reseruation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,
More then they were in note: Amongst the rest,
There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The King is render'd lost
   Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?
  Hell. My Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this;
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,
Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,
Happily beene absent then
   Cou. But thinke you Hellen,
If you should tender your supposed aide,
He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions
Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:
They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they credit
A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles
Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off
The danger to it selfe
   Hell. There's something in't
More then my Fathers skill, which was the great'st
Of his profession, that his good receipt,
Shall for my legacie be sanctified
Byth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honor
But giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de venture
The well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,
By such a day, an houre
   Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?
  Hell. I Madam knowingly
   Cou. Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue,
Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetings
To those of mine in Court, Ile staie at home
And praie Gods blessing into thy attempt:
Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,
What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.
Actus Secundus.
Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for the
warre: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles. Florish Cornets.
  King. Farewell yong Lords, these warlike principles
Doe not throw from you, and you my Lords farewell:
Share the aduice betwixt you, if both gaine, all
The guift doth stretch it selfe as 'tis receiu'd,
And is enough for both
   Lord.G. 'Tis our hope sir,
After well entred souldiers, to returne
And finde your grace in health
   King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confesse he owes the mallady
That doth my life besiege: farwell yong Lords,
Whether I liue or die, be you the sonnes
Of worthy French men: let higher Italy
(Those bated that inherit but the fall
Of the last Monarchy) see that you come
Not to wooe honour, but to wed it, when
The brauest questant shrinkes: finde what you seeke,
That fame may cry you loud: I say farewell
   L.G. Health at your bidding serue your Maiesty
   King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them,
They say our French, lacke language to deny
If they demand: beware of being Captiues
Before you serue
   Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings
   King. Farewell, come hether to me
   1.Lo.G. Oh my sweet Lord y you wil stay behind vs
   Parr. 'Tis not his fault the spark
   2.Lo.E. Oh 'tis braue warres
   Parr. Most admirable, I haue seene those warres
   Rossill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with,
Too young, and the next yeere, and 'tis too early
   Parr. And thy minde stand too't boy,
Steale away brauely
   Rossill. I shal stay here the for-horse to a smocke,
Creeking my shooes on the plaine Masonry,
Till honour be bought vp, and no sword worne
But one to dance with: by heauen, Ile steale away
   1.Lo.G. There's honour in the theft
   Parr. Commit it Count
   2.Lo.E. I am your accessary, and so farewell
   Ros. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body
   1.Lo.G. Farewell Captaine
   2.Lo.E. Sweet Mounsier Parolles
   Parr. Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kinne,
good sparkes and lustrous, a word good mettals. You
shall finde in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captaine
Spurio his sicatrice, with an Embleme of warre heere on
his sinister cheeke; it was this very sword entrench'd it:
say to him I liue, and obserue his reports for me
   Lo.G. We shall noble Captaine
   Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouices, what will
  Ross. Stay the King
   Parr. Vse a more spacious ceremonie to the Noble
Lords, you haue restrain'd your selfe within the List of
too cold an adieu: be more expressiue to them; for they
weare themselues in the cap of the time, there do muster
true gate; eat, speake, and moue vnder the influence of
the most receiu'd starre, and though the deuill leade the
measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a
more dilated farewell
   Ross. And I will doe so
   Parr. Worthy fellowes, and like to prooue most sinewie
Enter Lafew.
  L.Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings
   King. Ile see thee to stand vp
   L.Laf. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon,
I would you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy,
And that at my bidding you could so stand vp
   King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate
And askt thee mercy for't
   Laf. Goodfaith a-crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus,
Will you be cur'd of your infirmitie?
   Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe?
Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if
My royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a medicine
That's able to breath life into a stone,
Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari
With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch
Is powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nay
To giue great Charlemaine a pen in's hand
And write to her a loue-line
   King. What her is this?
  Laf. Why doctor she: my Lord, there's one arriu'd,
If you will see her: now by my faith and honour,
If seriously I may conuay my thoughts
In this my light deliuerance, I haue spoke
With one, that in her sexe, her yeeres, profession,
Wisedome and constancy, hath amaz'd mee more
Then I dare blame my weakenesse: will you see her?
For that is her demand, and know her businesse?
That done, laugh well at me
   King. Now good Lafew,
Bring in the admiration, that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine
By wondring how thou tookst it
   Laf. Nay, Ile fit you,
And not be all day neither
   King. Thus he his speciall nothing euer prologues
   Laf. Nay, come your waies.
Enter Hellen.
  King. This haste hath wings indeed
   Laf. Nay, come your waies,
This is his Maiestie, say your minde to him,
A Traitor you doe looke like, but such traitors
His Maiesty seldome feares, I am Cresseds Vncle,
That dare leaue two together, far you well.
  King. Now faire one, do's your busines follow vs?
  Hel. I my good Lord,
Gerard de Narbon was my father,
In what he did professe, well found
   King. I knew him
   Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him,
Knowing him is enough: on's bed of death,
Many receits he gaue me, chieflie one,
Which as the dearest issue of his practice
And of his olde experience, th' onlie darling,
He bad me store vp, as a triple eye,
Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue so,
And hearing your high Maiestie is toucht
With that malignant cause, wherein the honour
Of my deare fathers gift, stands cheefe in power,
I come to tender it, and my appliance,
With all bound humblenesse
   King. We thanke you maiden,
But may not be so credulous of cure,
When our most learned Doctors leaue vs, and
The congregated Colledge haue concluded,
That labouring Art can neuer ransome nature
From her inaydible estate: I say we must not
So staine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malladie
To empericks, or to disseuer so
Our great selfe and our credit, to esteeme
A sencelesse helpe, when helpe past sence we deeme
   Hell. My dutie then shall pay me for my paines:
I will no more enforce mine office on you,
Humbly intreating from your royall thoughts,
A modest one to beare me backe againe
   King. I cannot giue thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull:
Thou thoughtst to helpe me, and such thankes I giue,
As one neere death to those that wish him liue:
But what at full I know, thou knowst no part,
I knowing all my perill, thou no Art
   Hell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try,
Since you set vp your rest 'gainst remedie:
He that of greatest workes is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister:
So holy Writ, in babes hath iudgement showne,
When Iudges haue bin babes; great flouds haue flowne
From simple sources: and great Seas haue dried
When Miracles haue by the great'st beene denied.
Oft expectation failes, and most oft there
Where most it promises: and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldest, and despaire most shifts
   King. I must not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide,
Thy paines not vs'd, must by thy selfe be paid,
Proffers not tooke, reape thanks for their reward
   Hel. Inspired Merit so by breath is bard,
It is not so with him that all things knowes
As 'tis with vs, that square our guesse by showes:
But most it is presumption in vs, when
The help of heauen we count the act of men.
Deare sir, to my endeauors giue consent,
Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an Imposture, that proclaime
My selfe against the leuill of mine aime,
But know I thinke, and thinke I know most sure,
My Art is not past power, nor you past cure
   King. Art thou so confident? Within what space
Hop'st thou my cure?
  Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the sunne shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnall ring,
Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy Lampe:
Or foure and twenty times the Pylots glasse
Hath told the theeuish minutes, how they passe:
What is infirme, from your sound parts shall flie,
Health shall liue free, and sickenesse freely dye
   King. Vpon thy certainty and confidence,
What dar'st thou venter?
  Hell. Taxe of impudence,
A strumpets boldnesse, a divulged shame
Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name
Seard otherwise, ne worse of worst extended
With vildest torture, let my life be ended
   Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
His powerfull sound, within an organ weake:
And what impossibility would slay
In common sence, sence saues another way:
Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:
Youth, beauty, wisedome, courage, all
That happines and prime, can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate,
Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try,
That ministers thine owne death if I die
   Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, vnpittied let me die,
And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee,
But if I helpe, what doe you promise me
   Kin. Make thy demand
   Hel. But will you make it euen?
  Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe
   Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand
What husband in thy power I will command:
Exempted be from me the arrogance
To choose from forth the royall bloud of France,
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state:
But such a one thy vassall, whom I know
Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow
   Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be seru'd:
So make the choice of thy owne time, for I
Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye:
More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know, could not be more to trust:
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on, but rest
Vnquestion'd welcome, and vndoubted blest.
Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed,
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
Florish. Exit.
Enter Countesse and Clowne.
  Lady. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height
of your breeding
   Clown. I will shew my selfe highly fed, and lowly
taught, I know my businesse is but to the Court
   Lady. To the Court, why what place make you speciall,
when you put off that with such contempt, but to
  Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any manners,
hee may easilie put it off at Court: hee that cannot
make a legge, put off's cap, kisse his hand, and say nothing,
has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap; and indeed
such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the
Court, but for me, I haue an answere will serue all men
   Lady. Marry that's a bountifull answere that fits all
   Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes,
the pin buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttocke,
or any buttocke
   Lady. Will your answere serue fit to all questions?
  Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Atturney,
as your French Crowne for your taffety punke, as
Tibs rush for Toms fore-finger, as a pancake for Shroue-tuesday,
a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole,
the Cuckold to his horne, as a scolding queane to a
wrangling knaue, as the Nuns lip to the Friers mouth,
nay as the pudding to his skin
   Lady. Haue you, I say, an answere of such fitnesse for
all questions?
  Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable,
it will fit any question
   Lady. It must be an answere of most monstrous size,
that must fit all demands
   Clo. But a triflle neither in good faith, if the learned
should speake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs
to't. Aske mee if I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no
harme to learne
   Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a
foole in question, hoping to bee the wiser by your answer
   La. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?
  Clo. O Lord sir theres a simple putting off: more,
more, a hundred of them
   La. Sir I am a poore freind of yours, that loues you
   Clo. O Lord sir, thicke, thicke, spare not me
   La. I thinke sir, you can eate none of this homely
   Clo. O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you
   La. You were lately whipt sir as I thinke
   Clo. O Lord sir, spare not me
   La. Doe you crie O Lord sir at your whipping, and
spare not me? Indeed your O Lord sir, is very sequent
to your whipping: you would answere very well to a
whipping if you were but bound too't
   Clo. I nere had worse lucke in my life in my O Lord
sir: I see things may serue long, but not serue euer
   La. I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertaine
it so merrily with a foole
   Clo. O Lord sir, why there't serues well agen
   La. And end sir to your businesse: giue Hellen this,
And vrge her to a present answer backe,
Commend me to my kinsmen, and my sonne,
This is not much
   Clo. Not much commendation to them
   La. Not much imployement for you, you vnderstand
   Clo. Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legges
   La. Hast you agen.
Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles.
  Ol.Laf. They say miracles are past, and we haue our
Philosophicall persons, to make moderne and familiar
things supernaturall and causelesse. Hence is it, that we
make trifles of terrours, ensconcing our selues into seeming
knowledge, when we should submit our selues to
an vnknowne feare
   Par. Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that
hath shot out in our latter times
   Ros. And so 'tis
   Ol.Laf. To be relinquisht of the Artists
   Par. So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus
   Ol.Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes
   Par. Right so I say
   Ol.Laf. That gaue him out incureable
   Par. Why there 'tis, so say I too
   Ol.Laf. Not to be help'd
   Par. Right, as 'twere a man assur'd of a-
  Ol.Laf. Vncertaine life, and sure death
   Par. Iust, you say well: so would I haue said
   Ol.Laf. I may truly say, it is a noueltie to the world
   Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in shewing, you
shall reade it in what do ye call there
   Ol.Laf. A shewing of a heauenly effect in an earthly
   Par. That's it, I would haue said, the verie same
   Ol.Laf. Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore mee
I speake in respect-
  Par. Nay 'tis strange, 'tis very straunge, that is the
breefe and the tedious of it, and he's of a most facinerious
spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the-
  Ol.Laf. Very hand of heauen
   Par. I, so I say
   Ol.Laf. In a most weake-
  Par. And debile minister great power, great trancendence,
which should indeede giue vs a further vse to
be made, then alone the recou'ry of the king, as to bee
  Old Laf. Generally thankfull.
Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.
  Par. I would haue said it, you say well: heere comes
   Ol.Laf. Lustique, as the Dutchman saies: Ile like a
maide the Better whil'st I haue a tooth in my head: why
he's able to leade her a Carranto
   Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?
  Ol.Laf. Fore God I thinke so
   King. Goe call before mee all the Lords in Court,
Sit my preseruer by thy patients side,
And with this healthfull hand whose banisht sence
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receyue
The confirmation of my promis'd guift,
Which but attends thy naming.
Enter 3 or 4 Lords.
Faire Maide send forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell
Of Noble Batchellors, stand at my bestowing,
Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and fathers voice
I haue to vse; thy franke election make,
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake
   Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Mistris;
Fall when loue please, marry to each but one
   Old Laf. I'de giue bay curtall, and his furniture
My mouth no more were broken then these boyes,
And writ as little beard
   King. Peruse them well:
Not one of those, but had a Noble father.
She addresses her to a Lord.
  Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, restor'd
the king to health
   All. We vnderstand it, and thanke heauen for you
   Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiest
That I protest, I simply am a Maide:
Please it your Maiestie, I haue done already:
The blushes in my cheekes thus whisper mee,
We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused;
Let the white death sit on thy cheeke for euer,
Wee'l nere come there againe
   King. Make choise and see,
Who shuns thy loue, shuns all his loue in mee
   Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly,
And to imperiall loue, that God most high
Do my sighes streame: Sir, wil you heare my suite?
  1.Lo. And grant it
   Hel. Thankes sir, all the rest is mute
   Ol.Laf. I had rather be in this choise, then throw
Ames-ace for my life
   Hel. The honor sir that flames in your faire eyes,
Before I speake too threatningly replies:
Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboue
Her that so wishes, and her humble loue
   2.Lo. No better if you please
   Hel. My wish receiue,
Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue
   Ol.Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were sons
of mine, I'de haue them whip'd, or I would send them
to'th Turke to make Eunuches of
   Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take,
Ile neuer do you wrong for your owne sake:
Blessing vpon your vowes, and in your bed
Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed
   Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none
haue heere: sure they are bastards to the English, the
French nere got em
   La. You are too young, too happie, and too good
To make your selfe a sonne out of my blood
   4.Lord. Faire one, I thinke not so
   Ol.Lord There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father
drunke wine. But if thou be'st not an asse, I am a youth
of fourteene: I haue knowne thee already
   Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue
Me and my seruice, euer whilst I liue
Into your guiding power: This is the man
   King. Why then young Bertram take her shee's thy
   Ber. My wife my Leige? I shal beseech your highnes
In such a busines, giue me leaue to vse
The helpe of mine owne eies
   King. Know'st thou not Bertram what shee ha's
done for mee?
  Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know
why I should marrie her
   King. Thou know'st shee ha's rais'd me from my sickly
   Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe
Must answer for your raising? I knowe her well:
Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:
A poore Physitians daughter my wife? Disdaine
Rather corrupt me euer
   King. Tis onely title thou disdainst in her, the which
I can build vp: strange is it that our bloods
Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off
In differences so mightie. If she bee
All that is vertuous (saue what thou dislik'st)
A poore Phisitians daughter, thou dislik'st
Of vertue for the name: but doe not so:
From lowest place, whence vertuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by th' doers deede.
Where great additions swell's, and vertue none,
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone,
Is good without a name? Vilenesse is so:
The propertie by what is is, should go,
Not by the title. Shee is young, wise, faire,
In these, to Nature shee's immediate heire:
And these breed honour: that is honours scorne,
Which challenges it selfe as honours borne,
And is not like the sire: Honours thriue,
When rather from our acts we them deriue
Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a slaue
Debosh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:
A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,
Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.
Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be saide?
If thou canst like this creature, as a maide,
I can create the rest: Vertue, and shee
Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee
   Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't
   King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue
   Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad:
Let the rest go
   King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate
I must produce my power. Heere, take her hand,
Proud scornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift,
That dost in vile misprision shackle vp
My loue, and her desert: that canst not dreame,
We poizing vs in her defectiue scale,
Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know,
It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where
We please to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt:
Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good:
Beleeue not thy disdaine, but presentlie
Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right
Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimes,
Or I will throw thee from my care for euer
Into the staggers, and the carelesse lapse
Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate
Loosing vpon thee, in the name of iustice,
Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine answer
   Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit
My fancie to your eies, when I consider
What great creation, and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it: I finde that she which late
Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now
The praised of the King, who so ennobled,
Is as 'twere borne so
   King. Take her by the hand,
And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoize: If not to thy estate,
A ballance more repleat
   Ber. I take her hand
   Kin. Good fortune, and the fauour of the King
Smile vpon this Contract: whose Ceremonie
Shall seeme expedient on the now borne briefe,
And be perform'd to night: the solemne Feast
Shall more attend vpon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lou'st her,
Thy loue's to me Religious: else, do's erre.
Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.
  Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you
   Par. Your pleasure sir
   Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation
   Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Master?
  Laf. I: Is it not a Language I speake?
  Par. A most harsh one, and not to bee vnderstoode
without bloudie succeeding. My Master?
  Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?
  Par. To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man
   Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maister is of
another stile
   Par. You are too old sir: Let it satisfie you, you are
   Laf. I must tell thee sirrah, I write Man: to which
title age cannot bring thee
   Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do
   Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries: to bee a
prettie wise fellow, thou didst make tollerable vent of
thy trauell, it might passe: yet the scarffes and the bannerets
about thee, did manifoldlie disswade me from beleeuing
thee a vessell of too great a burthen. I haue now
found thee, when I loose thee againe, I care not: yet art
thou good for nothing but taking vp, and that th'ourt
scarce worth
   Par. Hadst thou not the priuiledge of Antiquity vpon
   Laf. Do not plundge thy selfe to farre in anger, least
thou hasten thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on
thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettice fare thee
well, thy casement I neede not open, for I look through
thee. Giue me thy hand
   Par. My Lord, you giue me most egregious indignity
   Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it
   Par. I haue not my Lord deseru'd it
   Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will
not bate thee a scruple
   Par. Well, I shall be wiser
   Laf. Eu'n as soone as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull
at a smacke a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee'st bound
in thy skarfe and beaten, thou shall finde what it is to be
proud of thy bondage, I haue a desire to holde my acquaintance
with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I
may say in the default, he is a man I know
   Par. My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation
   Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy sake, and my
poore doing eternall: for doing I am past, as I will by
thee, in what motion age will giue me leaue.
  Par. Well, thou hast a sonne shall take this disgrace
off me; scuruy, old, filthy, scuruy Lord: Well, I must
be patient, there is no fettering of authority. Ile beate
him (by my life) if I can meete him with any conuenience,
and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue
no more pittie of his age then I would haue of- Ile
beate him, and if I could but meet him agen.
Enter Lafew.
  Laf. Sirra, your Lord and masters married, there's
newes for you: you haue a new Mistris
   Par. I most vnfainedly beseech your Lordshippe to
make some reseruation of your wrongs. He is my good
Lord, whom I serue aboue is my master
   Laf. Who? God
   Par. I sir
   Laf. The deuill it is, that's thy master. Why dooest
thou garter vp thy armes a this fashion? Dost make hose
of thy sleeues? Do other seruants so? Thou wert best set
thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine Honor,
if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee: mee-think'st
thou art a generall offence, and euery man shold
beate thee: I thinke thou wast created for men to breath
themselues vpon thee
   Par. This is hard and vndeserued measure my Lord
   Laf. Go too sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking
a kernell out of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and
no true traueller: you are more sawcie with Lordes and
honourable personages, then the Commission of your
birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth
another word, else I'de call you knaue. I leaue you.
Enter Count Rossillion.
  Par. Good, very good, it is so then: good, very
good, let it be conceal'd awhile
   Ros. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer
   Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?
  Rossill. Although before the solemne Priest I haue
sworne, I will not bed her
   Par. What? what sweet heart?
  Ros. O my Parrolles, they haue married me:
Ile to the Tuscan warres, and neuer bed her
   Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits,
The tread of a mans foot: too'th warres
   Ros. There's letters from my mother: What th' import
is, I know not yet
   Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warrs my boy,
too'th warres:
He weares his honor in a boxe vnseene,
That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home,
Spending his manlie marrow in her armes
Which should sustaine the bound and high curuet
Of Marses fierie steed: to other Regions,
France is a stable, wee that dwell in't Iades,
Therefore too'th warre
   Ros. It shall be so, Ile send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled: Write to the King
That which I durst not speake. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields
Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife
To the darke house, and the detected wife
   Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?
  Ros. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me.
Ile send her straight away: To morrow,
Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow
   Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hard
A yong man maried, is a man that's mard:
Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go,
The King ha's done you wrong: but hush 'tis so.
Enter Helena and Clowne.
  Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well?
  Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's
very merrie, but yet she is not well: but thankes be giuen
she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but
yet she is not well
   Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she's
not verie well?
  Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things
  Hel. What two things?
  Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send
her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence
God send her quickly.
Enter Parolles.
  Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie
   Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mine
owne good fortune
   Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and to
keepe them on, haue them still. O my knaue, how do's
my old Ladie?
  Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money,
I would she did as you say
   Par. Why I say nothing
   Clo. Marry you are the wiser man: for many a mans
tongue shakes out his masters vndoing: to say nothing,
to do nothing, to know nothing, and to haue nothing,
is to be a great part of your title, which is within a verie
little of nothing
   Par. Away, th'art a knaue
   Clo. You should haue said sir before a knaue, th'art a
knaue, that's before me th'art a knaue: this had beene
   Par. Go too, thou art a wittie foole, I haue found
   Clo. Did you finde me in your selfe sir, or were you
taught to finde me?
  Clo. The search sir was profitable, and much Foole
may you find in you, euen to the worlds pleasure, and the
encrease of laughter
   Par. A good knaue ifaith, and well fed.
Madam, my Lord will go awaie to night,
A verie serrious businesse call's on him:
The great prerogatiue and rite of loue,
Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge,
But puts it off to a compell'd restraint:
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets
Which they distill now in the curbed time,
To make the comming houre oreflow with ioy,
And pleasure drowne the brim
   Hel. What's his will else?
  Par. That you will take your instant leaue a'th king,
And make this hast as your owne good proceeding,
Strengthned with what Apologie you thinke
May make it probable neede
   Hel. What more commands hee?
  Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlie
Attend his further pleasure
   Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will
   Par. I shall report it so.
  Hell. I pray you come sirrah.
Enter Lafew and Bertram.
  Laf. But I hope your Lordshippe thinkes not him a
   Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approofe
   Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance
   Ber. And by other warranted testimonie
   Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this Larke
for a bunting
   Ber. I do assure you my Lord he is very great in knowledge,
and accordinglie valiant
   Laf. I haue then sinn'd against his experience, and
transgrest against his valour, and my state that way is
dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent:
Heere he comes, I pray you make vs freinds, I will pursue
Enter Parolles.
  Par. These things shall be done sir
   Laf. Pray you sir whose his Tailor?
  Laf. O I know him well, I sir, hee sirs a good workeman,
a verie good Tailor
   Ber. Is shee gone to the king?
  Par. Shee is
   Ber. Will shee away to night?
  Par. As you'le haue her
   Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure,
Giuen order for our horses, and to night,
When I should take possession of the Bride,
And ere I doe begin
   Laf. A good Trauailer is something at the latter end
of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and vses a
known truth to passe a thousand nothings with, should
bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God saue you Captaine
   Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord and
you Monsieur?
  Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into my
Lords displeasure
   Laf. You haue made shift to run into't, bootes and
spurres and all: like him that leapt into the Custard, and
out of it you'le runne againe, rather then suffer question
for your residence
   Ber. It may bee you haue mistaken him my Lord
   Laf. And shall doe so euer, though I tooke him at's
prayers. Fare you well my Lord, and beleeue this of
me, there can be no kernell in this light Nut: the soule
of this man is his cloathes: Trust him not in matter of
heauie consequence: I haue kept of them tame, & know
their natures. Farewell Monsieur, I haue spoken better
of you, then you haue or will to deserue at my hand, but
we must do good against euill
   Par. An idle Lord, I sweare
   Ber. I thinke so
   Par. Why do you not know him?
  Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Giues him a worthy passe. Heere comes my clog.
Enter Helena.
  Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from you
Spoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaue
For present parting, onely he desires
Some priuate speech with you
   Ber. I shall obey his will.
You must not meruaile Helen at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration, and required office
On my particular. Prepar'd I was not
For such a businesse, therefore am I found
So much vnsetled: This driues me to intreate you,
That presently you take your way for home,
And rather muse then aske why I intreate you,
For my respects are better then they seeme,
And my appointments haue in them a neede
Greater then shewes it selfe at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother,
'Twill be two daies ere I shall see you, so
I leaue you to your wisedome
   Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient seruant
   Ber. Come, come, no more of that
   Hel. And euer shall
With true obseruance seeke to eeke out that
Wherein toward me my homely starres haue faild
To equall my great fortune
   Ber. Let that goe: my hast is verie great. Farwell:
   Hel. Pray sir your pardon
   Ber. Well, what would you say?
  Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe,
Nor dare I say 'tis mine: and yet it is,
But like a timorous theefe, most faine would steale
What law does vouch mine owne
   Ber. What would you haue?
  Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed,
I would not tell you what I would my Lord: Faith yes,
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kisse
   Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse
   Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord:
Where are my other men? Monsieur, farwell.
  Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or heare the drumme:
Away, and for our flight
   Par. Brauely, Coragio.
Actus Tertius.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with a
  Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard
The fundamentall reasons of this warre,
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
And more thirsts after
   1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell
Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull
On the opposer
   Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin France
Would in so iust a businesse, shut his bosome
Against our borrowing prayers
   French E. Good my Lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde,
But like a common and an outward man,
That the great figure of a Counsaile frames,
By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare not
Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found
My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faile
As often as I guest
   Duke. Be it his pleasure
   Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature,
That surfet on their ease, will day by day
Come heere for Physicke
   Duke. Welcome shall they bee:
And all the honors that can flye from vs,
Shall on them settle: you know your places well,
When better fall, for your auailes they fell,
To morrow to'th the field.
Enter Countesse and Clowne.
  Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue
that he comes not along with her
   Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie
melancholly man
   Count. By what obseruance I pray you
   Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing:
mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, picke
his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke of
melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song
   Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes
   Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court.
Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing
like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains
of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an
old man loues money, with no stomacke
   Lad. What haue we heere?
  Clo. In that you haue there.
I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the
King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her,
and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am
runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee
bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My
duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne,
This is not well rash and vnbridled boy,
To flye the fauours of so good a King,
To plucke his indignation on thy head,
By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous
For the contempt of Empire.
Enter Clowne.
  Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene
two souldiers, and my yong Ladie
   La. What is the matter
   Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some
comfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght
   La. Why should he be kill'd?
  Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he
does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of
men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they
come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your
sonne was run away.
Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.
  French E. Saue you good Madam
   Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone
   French G. Do not say so
   La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen,
I haue felt so many quirkes of ioy and greefe,
That the first face of neither on the start
Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you?
  Fren.G. Madam he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence,
We met him thitherward, for thence we came:
And after some dispatch in hand at Court,
Thither we bend againe
   Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport.
When thou canst get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer
shall come off, and shew mee a childe begotten of thy bodie,
that I am father too, then call me husband: but in such a (then)
I write a Neuer.
This is a dreadfull sentence
   La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?
  1.G. I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorrie
for our paines
   Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere,
If thou engrossest, all the greefes are thine,
Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne,
But I do wash his name out of my blood,
And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?
  Fren.G. I Madam
   La. And to be a souldier
   Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu't
The Duke will lay vpon him all the honor
That good conuenience claimes
   La. Returne you thither
   Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed
   Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,
   La. Finde you that there?
  Hel. I Madame
   Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, which
his heart was not consenting too
   Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:
There's nothing heere that is too good for him
But onely she, and she deserues a Lord
That twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon,
And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him?
  Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which I
haue sometime knowne
   La. Parolles was it not?
  Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee
   La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse,
My sonne corrupts a well deriued nature
With his inducement
   Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of
that, too much, which holds him much to haue
   La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you
when you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword can
neuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate
you written to beare along
   Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all your
worthiest affaires
   La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies,
Will you draw neere?
  Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.
Nothing in France vntill he has no wife:
Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France,
Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I
That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose
Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent
Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I,
That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou
Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke
Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,
Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aire
That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:
Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.
Who euer charges on his forward brest
I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,
And though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: Better 'twere
I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd
With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere,
That all the miseries which nature owes
Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion,
Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre,
As oft it looses all. I will be gone:
My being heere it is, that holds thee hence,
Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, although
The ayre of Paradise did fan the house,
And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,
That pittifull rumour may report my flight
To consolate thine eare. Come night, end day,
For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and
soldiers, Parrolles.
  Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we
Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence
Vpon thy promising fortune
   Ber. Sir it is
A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet
Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake,
To th' extreme edge of hazard
   Duke. Then go thou forth,
And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme
As thy auspicious mistris
   Ber. This very day
Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file,
Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue
A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.
Exeunt. omnes
Enter Countesse & Steward.
  La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her:
Might you not know she would do, as she has done,
By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.
I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone:
Ambitious loue hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon
With sainted vow my faults to haue amended
Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre,
My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie,
Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre,
His name with zealous feruour sanctifie:
His taken labours bid him me forgiue:
I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth,
From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue,
Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.
He is too good and faire for death, and mee,
Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free.
Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words?
Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,
As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her,
I could haue well diuerted her intents,
Which thus she hath preuented
   Ste. Pardon me Madam,
If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,
She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writes
Pursuite would be but vaine
   La. What Angell shall
Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,
Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare
And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath
Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo,
To this vnworthy husband of his wife,
Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth,
That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe,
Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely.
Dispatch the most conuenient messenger,
When haply he shall heare that she is gone,
He will returne, and hope I may that shee
Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe,
Led hither by pure loue: which of them both
Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence
To make distinction: prouide this Messenger:
My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake,
Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.
A Tucket afarre off.
Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and
Mariana, with
other Citizens.
  Widdow. Nay come,
For if they do approach the Citty,
We shall loose all the sight
   Diana. They say, the French Count has done
Most honourable seruice
   Wid. It is reported,
That he has taken their great'st Commander,
And that with his owne hand he slew
The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour,
They are gone a contrarie way: harke,
you may know by their Trumpets
   Maria. Come lets returne againe,
And suffice our selues with the report of it.
Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle,
The honor of a Maide is her name,
And no Legacie is so rich
   Widdow. I haue told my neighbour
How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman
His Companion
   Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles,
a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young
Earle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements,
oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are
not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene
seduced by them, and the miserie is example, that so
terrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot
for all that disswade succession, but that they are limed
with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede
not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace
will keepe you where you are, though there were no
further danger knowne, but the modestie which is so
   Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.
Enter Hellen.
  Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know
she will lye at my house, thither they send one another,
Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether are
  Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand.
Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
  Wid. At the S[aint]. Francis heere beside the Port
   Hel. Is this the way?
A march afarre.
  Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way:
If you will tarrie holy Pilgrime
But till the troopes come by,
I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd,
The rather for I thinke I know your hostesse
As ample as my selfe
   Hel. Is it your selfe?
  Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime
   Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure
   Wid. You came I thinke from France?
  Hel. I did so
   Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yours
That has done worthy seruice
   Hel. His name I pray you?
  Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?
  Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him:
His face I know not
   Dia. What somere he is
He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France
As 'tis reported: for the King had married him
Against his liking. Thinke you it is so?
  Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady
   Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count,
Reports but coursely of her
   Hel. What's his name?
  Dia. Monsieur Parrolles
   Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,
In argument of praise, or to the worth
Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane
To haue her name repeated, all her deseruing
Is a reserued honestie, and that
I haue not heard examin'd
   Dian. Alas poore Ladie,
'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
Of a detesting Lord
   Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is,
Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do her
A shrewd turne if she pleas'd
   Hel. How do you meane?
May be the amorous Count solicites her
In the vnlawfull purpose
   Wid. He does indeede,
And brokes with all that can in such a suite
Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide:
But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard
In honestest defence.
Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the
  Mar. The goddes forbid else
   Wid. So, now they come:
That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne,
That Escalus
   Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow,
I would he lou'd his wife: if he were honester
He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom Gentleman
  Hel. I like him well
   Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaue
That leades him to these places: were I his Ladie,
I would poison that vile Rascall
   Hel. Which is he?
  Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is hee
melancholly?
  Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile
   Par. Loose our drum? Well
   Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke he
has spyed vs
   Wid. Marrie hang you
   Mar. And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier.
  Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bring
you, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitents
There's foure or fiue, to great S[aint]. Iaques bound,
Alreadie at my house
   Hel. I humbly thanke you:
Please it this Matron, and this gentle Maide
To eate with vs to night, the charge and thanking
Shall be for me, and to requite you further,
I will bestow some precepts of this Virgin,
Worthy the note
   Both. Wee'l take your offer kindly.
Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first.
  Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let him
haue his way
   Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding,
hold me no more in your respect
   Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble
   Ber. Do you thinke I am so farre
Deceiued in him
   Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct
knowledge, without any malice, but to speake of him
as my kinsman, hee's a most notable Coward, an infinite
and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, the
owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordships
entertainment
   Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing too
farre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at some
great and trustie businesse, in a maine daunger, fayle
   Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try
   Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his
drumme, which you heare him so confidently vndertake
   C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize
him; such I will haue whom I am sure he knowes
not from the enemie: wee will binde and hoodwinke
him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried
into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bring
him to our owne tents: be but your Lordship present
at his examination, if he do not for the promise of his
life, and in the highest compulsion of base feare, offer to
betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his power
against you, and that with the diuine forfeite of his
soule vpon oath, neuer trust my iudgement in anie
   Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his
drumme, he sayes he has a stratagem for't: when your
Lordship sees the bottome of this successe in't, and to
what mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours will be melted
if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement,
your inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes.
Enter Parrolles.
  Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor
of his designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any
   Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely
in your disposition
   Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme
   Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum so
lost. There was excellent command, to charge in with
our horse vpon our owne wings, and to rend our owne
   Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command
of the seruice: it was a disaster of warre that Cæsar him
selfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there to
   Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe:
some dishonor wee had in the losse of that drum,
but it is not to be recouered
   Par. It might haue beene recouered
   Ber. It might, but it is not now
   Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice
is sildome attributed to the true and exact performer,
I would haue that drumme or another, or hic iacet
   Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: if
you thinke your mysterie in stratagem, can bring this
instrument of honour againe into his natiue quarter, be
magnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil grace
the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well in
it, the Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to you
what further becomes his greatnesse, euen to the vtmost
syllable of your worthinesse
   Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it
   Ber. But you must not now slumber in it
   Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently
pen downe my dilemma's, encourage my selfe in my
certaintie, put my selfe into my mortall preparation:
and by midnight looke to heare further from me
   Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you are
gone about it
   Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord,
but the attempt I vow
   Ber. I know th'art valiant,
And to the possibility of thy souldiership,
Will subscribe for thee: Farewell
   Par. I loue not many words.
  Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not this
a strange fellow my Lord, that so confidently seemes to
vndertake this businesse, which he knowes is not to be
done, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be damnd
then to doo't
   Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe,
certaine it is that he will steale himselfe into a mans fauour,
and for a weeke escape a great deale of discoueries,
but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after
   Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at
all of this that so seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfe
  Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention,
and clap vpon you two or three probable lies:
but we haue almost imbost him, you shall see his fall to
night; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes respect
   Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxe
ere we case him. He was first smoak'd by the old Lord
Lafew, when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what
a sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see this verie
   Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,
He shall be caught
   Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me
   Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you
   Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew you
The Lasse I spoke of
   Cap.E. But you say she's honest
   Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once,
And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her
By this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th winde
Tokens and Letters, which she did resend,
And this is all I haue done: She's a faire creature,
Will you go see her?
  Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.
Enter Hellen, and Widdow.
  Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee,
I know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon
   Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses,
And would not put my reputation now
In any staining act
   Hel. Nor would I wish you.
First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband,
And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken,
Is so from word to word: and then you cannot
By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow,
Erre in bestowing it
   Wid. I should beleeue you,
For you haue shew'd me that which well approues
Y'are great in fortune
   Hel. Take this purse of Gold,
And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre,
Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againe
When I haue found it. The Count he woes your
Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,
Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent
As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it:
Now his important blood will naught denie,
That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares,
That downward hath succeeded in his house
From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents,
Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holds
In most rich choice: yet in his idle fire,
To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere,
How ere repented after
   Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose
   Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more,
But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne,
Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter;
In fine, deliuers me to fill the time,
Her selfe most chastly absent: after
To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes
To what is past already
   Wid. I haue yeelded:
Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer,
That time and place with this deceite so lawfull
May proue coherent. Euery night he comes
With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd
To her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vs
To chide him from our eeues, for he persists
As if his life lay on't
   Hel. Why then to night
Let vs assay our plot, which if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede;
And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,
Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact.
But let's about it.
Actus Quartus.
Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in
  Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge
corner: when you sallie vpon him, speake what terrible
Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your
selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to vnderstand
him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce
for an Interpreter
   1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter
   Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not
  1.Sol. No sir I warrant you
   Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs
   1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me
   Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th
aduersaries entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all
neighbouring Languages: therefore we must euery one
be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we speak
one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight
our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and
good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seeme
very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to beguile
two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne & swear
the lies he forges.
Enter Parrolles.
  Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill
be time enough to goe home. What shall I say I haue
done? It must bee a very plausiue inuention that carries
it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces haue of
late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue
is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars
before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of
   Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue
was guiltie of
   Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake
the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the
impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I
must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in exploit:
yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say,
came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not
giue, wherefore what's the instance. Tongue, I must put
you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my selfe another
of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these
   Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, and
be that he is
   Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue
the turne, or the breaking of my Spanish sword
   Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so
   Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in
   Lo.E. 'Twould not do
   Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript
   Lo.E. Hardly serue
   Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of the
   Lo.E. How deepe?
  Par. Thirty fadome
   Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be
   Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I
would sweare I recouer'd it
   Lo.E. You shall heare one anon
   Par. A drumme now of the enemies.
Alarum within.
  Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo
   All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo
   Par. O ransome, ransome,
Do not hide mine eyes
   Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos
   Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment,
And I shall loose my life for want of language.
If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speake to me,
Ile discouer that, which shal vndo the Florentine
   Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake
thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for
seuenteene ponyards are at thy bosome
   Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,
Manka reuania dulche
   Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco
   Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet,
And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee on
To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informe
Something to saue thy life
   Par. O let me liue,
And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew,
Their force, their purposes: Nay, Ile speake that,
Which you will wonder at
   Inter. But wilt thou faithfully?
  Par. If I do not, damne me
   Inter. Acordo linta.
Come on, thou are granted space.
A short Alarum within.
  L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother,
We haue caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him mufled
Till we do heare from them
   Sol. Captaine I will
   L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues,
Informe on that
   Sol. So I will sir
   L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.
Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.
  Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell
   Dia. No my good Lord, Diana
   Ber. Titled Goddesse,
And worth it with addition: but faire soule,
In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie?
If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde,
You are no Maiden but a monument
When you are dead you should be such a one
As you are now: for you are cold and sterne,
And now you should be as your mother was
When your sweet selfe was got
   Dia. She then was honest
   Ber. So should you be
My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord)
As you owe to your wife
   Ber. No more a'that:
I prethee do not striue against my vowes:
I was compell'd to her, but I loue thee
By loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euer
Do thee all rights of seruice
   Dia. I so you serue vs
Till we serue you: But when you haue our Roses,
You barely leaue our thornes to pricke our selues,
And mocke vs with our barenesse
   Ber. How haue I sworne
   Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth,
But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true:
What is not holie, that we sweare not by,
But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me,
If I should sweare by Ioues great attributes,
I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes,
When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holding
To sweare by him whom I protest to loue
That I will worke against him. Therefore your oathes
Are words and poore conditions, but vnseal'd
At lest in my opinion
   Ber. Change it, change it:
Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie,
And my integritie ne're knew the crafts
That you do charge men with: Stand no more off,
But giue thy selfe vnto my sicke desires,
Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer
My loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer
   Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre,
That wee'l forsake our selues. Giue me that Ring
   Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power
To giue it from me
   Dia. Will you not my Lord?
  Ber. It is an honour longing to our house,
Bequeathed downe from manie Ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In me to loose
   Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring,
My chastities the Iewell of our house,
Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In mee to loose. Thus your owne proper wisedome
Brings in the Champion honor on my part,
Against your vaine assault
   Ber. Heere, take my Ring,
My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine,
And Ile be bid by thee
   Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamber
Ile order take, my mother shall not heare.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,
Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee:
My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them,
When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd:
And on your finger in the night, Ile put
Another Ring, that what in time proceeds,
May token to the future, our past deeds.
Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonne
A wife of me, though there my hope be done
   Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee
   Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me,
You may so in the end.
My mother told me iust how he would woo,
As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all men
Haue the like oathes: He had sworne to marrie me
When his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with him
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide,
Marry that will, I liue and die a Maid:
Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne,
To cosen him that would vniustly winne.
Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.
  Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter
   Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som
thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it,
he chang'd almost into another man
   Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him,
for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady
   Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting
displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty
to sing happinesse to him. I will tell you a thing, but
you shall let it dwell darkly with you
   Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am
the graue of it
   Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman
heere in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night
he fleshes his will in the spoyle of her honour: hee hath
giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes himselfe
made in the vnchaste composition
   Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our
selues, what things are we
   Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the
common course of all treasons, we still see them reueale
themselues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: so
he that in this action contriues against his owne Nobility
in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe
   Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters
of our vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue
his company to night?
  Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to
   Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue
him see his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take
a measure of his owne iudgements, wherein so curiously
he had set this counterfeit
   Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come;
for his presence must be the whip of the other
   Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of these
  Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace
   Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded
   Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he
trauaile higher, or returne againe into France?
  Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogether
of his councell
   Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a great
deale of his act
   Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde
from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques
le grand; which holy vndertaking, with most austere
sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there residing,
the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her
greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now
she sings in heauen
   Cap.E. How is this iustified?
  Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters,
which makes her storie true, euen to the poynt of her
death: her death it selfe, which could not be her office
to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector
of the place
   Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?
  Cap.G. I, and the particular confirmations, point
from point, to the full arming of the veritie
   Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde of
   Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comforts
of our losses
   Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee
drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his
valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encountred
with a shame as ample
   Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne,
good and ill together: our vertues would bee proud, if
our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dispaire
if they were not cherish'd by our vertues.
Enter a Messenger.
How now? Where's your master?
  Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee
hath taken a solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next
morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters
of commendations to the King
   Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there,
if they were more then they can commend.
Enter Count Rossillion.
  Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse,
heere's his Lordship now. How now my Lord,
i'st not after midnight?
  Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a
moneths length a peece, by an abstract of successe: I
haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his
neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my Ladie
mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, &
betweene these maine parcels of dispatch, affected many
nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I haue
not ended yet
   Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this
morning your departure hence, it requires hast of your
   Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing
to heare of it hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue
betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring
forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee, like a
double-meaning Prophesier
   Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night
poore gallant knaue
   Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping
his spurres so long. How does he carry himselfe?
  Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship alreadie: The
stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be
vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her
milke, he hath confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee
supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the time of his remembrance
to this very instant disaster of his setting i'th stockes:
and what thinke you he hath confest?
  Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a?
  Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read
to his face, if your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you
are, you must haue the patience to heare it.
Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.
  Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing
of me: hush, hush
   Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa
   Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you say
   Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint,
If ye pinch me like a Pasty, I can say no more
   Int. Bosko Chimurcho
   Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco
   Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall
bids you answer to what I shall aske you out of a Note
   Par. And truly, as I hope to liue
   Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke
is strong. What say you to that?
  Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable:
the troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders
verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and
credit, and as I hope to liue
   Int. Shall I set downe your answer so?
  Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & which
way you will: all's one to him
   Ber. What a past-sauing slaue is this?
  Cap.G. Y'are deceiu'd my Lord, this is Mounsieur
Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his owne phrase
that had the whole theoricke of warre in the knot of his
scarfe, and the practise in the chape of his dagger
   Cap.E. I will neuer trust a man againe, for keeping
his sword cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing
in him, by wearing his apparrell neatly
   Int. Well, that's set downe
   Par. Fiue or six thousand horse I sed, I will say true,
or thereabouts set downe, for Ile speake truth
   Cap.G. He's very neere the truth in this
   Ber. But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he
   Par. Poore rogues, I pray you say
   Int. Well, that's set downe
   Par. I humbly thanke you sir, a truth's a truth, the
Rogues are maruailous poore
   Interp. Demaund of him of what strength they are a
foot. What say you to that?
  Par. By my troth sir, if I were to liue this present
houre, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred &
fiftie, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Iaques so
many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and Gratij, two hundred
fiftie each: Mine owne Company, Chitopher, Vaumond,
Bentij, two hundred fiftie each: so that the muster
file, rotten and sound, vppon my life amounts not to fifteene
thousand pole, halfe of the which, dare not shake
the snow from off their Cassockes, least they shake themselues
   Ber. What shall be done to him?
  Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demand
of him my condition: and what credite I haue with the
   Int. Well that's set downe: you shall demaund of
him, whether one Captaine Dumaine bee i'th Campe, a
Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what
his valour, honestie, and expertnesse in warres: or whether
he thinkes it were not possible with well-waighing
summes of gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What say you
to this? What do you know of it?
  Par. I beseech you let me answer to the particular of
the intergatories. Demand them singly
   Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine?
  Par. I know him, a was a Botchers Prentize in Paris,
from whence he was whipt for getting the Shrieues fool
with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not say him
   Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though I
know his braines are forfeite to the next tile that fals
   Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke of Florences
  Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowsie
   Cap.G. Nay looke not so vpon me: we shall heare of
your Lord anon
   Int. What is his reputation with the Duke?
  Par. The Duke knowes him for no other, but a poore
Officer of mine, and writ to mee this other day, to turne
him out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my pocket
   Int. Marry we'll search
   Par. In good sadnesse I do not know, either it is there,
or it is vpon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my
   Int. Heere 'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you?
  Par. I do not know if it be it or no
   Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well
   Cap.G. Excellently
   Int. Dian, the Counts a foole, and full of gold
   Par. That is not the Dukes letter sir: that is an aduertisement
to a proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to
take heede of the allurement of one Count Rossillion, a
foolish idle boy: but for all that very ruttish. I pray you
sir put it vp againe
   Int. Nay, Ile reade it first by your fauour
   Par. My meaning in't I protest was very honest in the
behalfe of the maid: for I knew the young Count to be a
dangerous and lasciuious boy, who is a whale to Virginity,
and deuours vp all the fry it finds
   Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue
When he sweares oathes, bid him drop gold, and
After he scores, he neuer payes the score:
Halfe won is match well made, match and well make it,
He nere payes after-debts, take it before,
And say a souldier (Dian) told thee this:
Men are to mell with, boyes are not to kis.
For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it,
Who payes before, but not when he does owe it.
Thine as he vow'd to thee in thine eare,
   Ber. He shall be whipt through the Armie with this
rime in's forehead
   Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend sir, the manifold
Linguist, and the army-potent souldier
   Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Cat, and
now he's a Cat to me
   Int. I perceiue sir by your Generals lookes, wee shall
be faine to hang you
   Par. My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraide to
dye, but that my offences beeing many, I would repent
out the remainder of Nature. Let me liue sir in a dungeon,
i'th stockes, or any where, so I may liue
   Int. Wee'le see what may bee done, so you confesse
freely: therefore once more to this Captaine Dumaine:
you haue answer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and
to his valour. What is his honestie?
  Par. He will steale sir an Egge out of a Cloister: for
rapes and rauishments he paralels Nessus. Hee professes
not keeping of oaths, in breaking em he is stronger then
Hercules. He will lye sir, with such volubilitie, that you
would thinke truth were a foole: drunkennesse is his best
vertue, for he will be swine-drunke, and in his sleepe he
does little harme, saue to his bed-cloathes about him:
but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I
haue but little more to say sir of his honesty, he ha's euerie
thing that an honest man should not haue; what an
honest man should haue, he has nothing
   Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this
   Ber. For this description of thine honestie? A pox
vpon him for me, he's more and more a Cat
   Int. What say you to his expertnesse in warre?
  Par. Faith sir, ha's led the drumme before the English
Tragedians: to belye him I will not, and more of his
souldiership I know not, except in that Country, he had
the honour to be the Officer at a place there called Mile-end,
to instruct for the doubling of files. I would doe the
man what honour I can, but of this I am not certaine
   Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie so farre, that the
raritie redeemes him
   Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat still
   Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede
not to aske you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt
   Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will sell the fee-simple of
his saluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' intaile from
all remainders, and a perpetuall succession for it perpetually
   Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain?
  Cap.E. Why do's he aske him of me?
  Int. What's he?
  Par. E'ne a Crow a'th same nest: not altogether so
great as the first in goodnesse, but greater a great deale in
euill. He excels his Brother for a coward, yet his Brother
is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreate hee outrunnes
any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the
   Int. If your life be saued, will you vndertake to betray
the Florentine
   Par. I, and the Captaine of his horse, Count Rossillion
   Int. Ile whisper with the Generall, and knowe his
   Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummes,
onely to seeme to deserue well, and to beguile the supposition
of that lasciuious yong boy the Count, haue I run
into this danger: yet who would haue suspected an ambush
where I was taken?
  Int. There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the
Generall sayes, you that haue so traitorously discouerd
the secrets of your army, and made such pestifferous reports
of men very nobly held, can serue the world for
no honest vse: therefore you must dye. Come headesman,
off with his head
   Par. O Lord sir let me liue, or let me see my death
   Int. That shall you, and take your leaue of all your
So, looke about you, know you any heere?
  Count. Good morrow noble Captaine
   Lo.E. God blesse you Captaine Parolles
   Cap.G. God saue you noble Captaine
   Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord
Lafew? I am for France
   Cap.G. Good Captaine will you giue me a Copy of
the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalfe of the Count
Rossillion, and I were not a verie Coward, I'de compell
it of you, but far you well.
  Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your scarfe,
that has a knot on't yet
   Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?
  Inter. If you could finde out a Countrie where but
women were that had receiued so much shame, you
might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yee well sir, I
am for France too, we shall speake of you there.
  Par. Yet am I thankfull: if my heart were great
'Twould burst at this: Captaine Ile be no more,
But I will eate, and drinke, and sleepe as soft
As Captaine shall. Simply the thing I am
Shall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggart
Let him feare this; for it will come to passe,
That euery braggart shall be found an Asse.
Rust sword, coole blushes, and Parrolles liue
Safest in shame: being fool'd, by fool'rie thriue;
There's place and meanes for euery man aliue.
Ile after them.
Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.
  Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue not
wrong'd you,
One of the greatest in the Christian world
Shall be my suretie: for whose throne 'tis needfull
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneele.
Time was, I did him a desired office
Deere almost as his life, which gratitude
Through flintie Tartars bosome would peepe forth,
And answer thankes. I duly am inform'd,
His grace is at Marcellae, to which place
We haue conuenient conuoy: you must know
I am supposed dead, the Army breaking,
My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding,
And by the leaue of my good Lord the King,
Wee'l be before our welcome
   Wid. Gentle Madam,
You neuer had a seruant to whose trust
Your busines was more welcome
   Hel. Nor your Mistris
Euer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompence your loue: Doubt not but heauen
Hath brought me vp to be your daughters dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motiue
And helper to a husband. But O strange men,
That can such sweet vse make of what they hate,
When sawcie trusting of the cosin'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night, so lust doth play
With what it loathes, for that which is away,
But more of this heereafter: you Diana,
Vnder my poore instructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalfe
   Dia. Let death and honestie
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Vpon your will to suffer
   Hel. Yet I pray you:
But with the word the time will bring on summer,
When Briars shall haue leaues as well as thornes,
And be as sweet as sharpe: we must away,
Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuiues vs,
All's well that ends well, still the fines the Crowne;
What ere the course, the end is the renowne.
Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Lafew.
  Laf. No, no, no, your sonne was misled with a snipt
taffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron wold haue
made all the vnbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in his
colour: your daughter-in-law had beene aliue at this
houre, and your sonne heere at home, more aduanc'd
by the King, then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I speak
   La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death
of the most vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature
had praise for creating. If she had pertaken of my flesh
and cost mee the deerest groanes of a mother, I could
not haue owed her a more rooted loue
   Laf. Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. Wee
may picke a thousand sallets ere wee light on such another
   Clo. Indeed sir she was the sweete Margerom of the
sallet, or rather the hearbe of grace
   Laf. They are not hearbes you knaue, they are nose-hearbes
   Clowne. I am no great Nabuchadnezar sir, I haue not
much skill in grace
   Laf. Whether doest thou professe thy selfe, a knaue
  Clo. A foole sir at a womans seruice, and a knaue at a
   Laf. Your distinction
   Clo. I would cousen the man of his wife, and do his
   Laf. So you were a knaue at his seruice indeed
   Clo. And I would giue his wife my bauble sir to doe
   Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knaue
   Clo. At your seruice
   Laf. No, no, no
   Clo. Why sir, if I cannot serue you, I can serue as
great a prince as you are
   Laf. Whose that, a Frenchman?
  Clo. Faith sir a has an English maine, but his fisnomie
is more hotter in France then there
   Laf. What prince is that?
  Clo. The blacke prince sir, alias the prince of darkenesse,
alias the diuell
   Laf. Hold thee there's my purse, I giue thee not this
to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st off, serue
   Clo. I am a woodland fellow sir, that alwaies loued
a great fire, and the master I speak of euer keeps a good
fire, but sure he is the Prince of the world, let his Nobilitie
remaine in's Court. I am for the house with the
narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pompe to
enter: some that humble themselues may, but the manie
will be too chill and tender, and theyle bee for the
flowrie way that leads to the broad gate, and the great
   Laf. Go thy waies, I begin to bee a wearie of thee,
and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out
with thee. Go thy wayes, let my horses be wel look'd
too, without any trickes
   Clo. If I put any trickes vpon em sir, they shall bee
Iades trickes, which are their owne right by the law of
  Laf. A shrewd knaue and an vnhappie
   Lady. So a is. My Lord that's gone made himselfe
much sport out of him, by his authoritie hee remaines
heere, which he thinkes is a pattent for his sawcinesse,
and indeede he has no pace, but runnes where he will
   Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amisse: and I was about
to tell you, since I heard of the good Ladies death, and
that my Lord your sonne was vpon his returne home. I
moued the King my master to speake in the behalfe of
my daughter, which in the minoritie of them both, his
Maiestie out of a selfe gracious remembrance did first
propose, his Highnesse hath promis'd me to doe it, and
to stoppe vp the displeasure he hath conceiued against
your sonne, there is no fitter matter. How do's your
Ladyship like it?
  La. With verie much content my Lord, and I wish
it happily effected
   Laf. His Highnesse comes post from Marcellus, of as
able bodie as when he number'd thirty, a will be heere
to morrow, or I am deceiu'd by him that in such intelligence
hath seldome fail'd
   La. It reioyces me, that I hope I shall see him ere I
die. I haue letters that my sonne will be heere to night:
I shall beseech your Lordship to remaine with mee, till
they meete together
   Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I
might safely be admitted
   Lad. You neede but pleade your honourable priuiledge
   Laf. Ladie, of that I haue made a bold charter, but
I thanke my God, it holds yet.
Enter Clowne.
  Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your sonne with
a patch of veluet on's face, whether there bee a scar vnder't
or no, the Veluet knowes, but 'tis a goodly patch
of Veluet, his left cheeke is a cheeke of two pile and a
halfe, but his right cheeke is worne bare
   Laf. A scarre nobly got,
Or a noble scarre, is a good liu'rie of honor,
So belike is that
   Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face
   Laf. Let vs go see
your sonne I pray you, I long to talke
With the yong noble souldier
   Clowne. 'Faith there's a dozen of em, with delicate
fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the
head, and nod at euerie man.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana, with two Attendants.
  Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night,
Must wear your spirits low, we cannot helpe it:
But since you haue made the daies and nights as one,
To weare your gentle limbes in my affayres,
Be bold you do so grow in my requitall,
As nothing can vnroote you. In happie time,
Enter a gentle Astringer.
This man may helpe me to his Maiesties eare,
If he would spend his power. God saue you sir
   Gent. And you
   Hel. Sir, I haue seene you in the Court of France
   Gent. I haue beene sometimes there
   Hel. I do presume sir, that you are not falne
From the report that goes vpon your goodnesse,
And therefore goaded with most sharpe occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The vse of your owne vertues, for the which
I shall continue thankefull
   Gent. What's your will?
  Hel. That it will please you
To giue this poore petition to the King,
And ayde me with that store of power you haue
To come into his presence
   Gen. The Kings not heere
   Hel. Not heere sir?
  Gen. Not indeed,
He hence remou'd last night, and with more hast
Then is his vse
   Wid. Lord how we loose our paines
   Hel. All's well that ends well yet,
Though time seeme so aduerse, and meanes vnfit:
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
  Gent. Marrie as I take it to Rossillion,
Whither I am going
   Hel. I do beseech you sir,
Since you are like to see the King before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand,
Which I presume shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thanke your paines for it,
I will come after you with what good speede
Our meanes will make vs meanes
   Gent. This Ile do for you
   Hel. And you shall finde your selfe to be well thankt
what e're falles more. We must to horse againe, Go, go,
Enter Clowne and Parrolles.
  Par. Good Mr Lauatch giue my Lord Lafew this letter,
I haue ere now sir beene better knowne to you, when
I haue held familiaritie with fresher cloathes: but I am
now sir muddied in fortunes mood, and smell somewhat
strong of her strong displeasure
   Clo. Truely, Fortunes displeasure is but sluttish if it
smell so strongly as thou speak'st of: I will hencefoorth
eate no Fish of Fortunes butt'ring. Prethee alow the
   Par. Nay you neede not to stop your nose sir: I spake
but by a Metaphor
   Clo. Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stinke, I will stop
my nose, or against any mans Metaphor. Prethe get thee
   Par. Pray you sir deliuer me this paper
   Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes
close-stoole, to giue to a Nobleman. Looke heere he
comes himselfe.
Enter Lafew.
  Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes sir, or of Fortunes
Cat, but not a Muscat, that ha's falne into the vncleane
fish-pond of her displeasure, and as he sayes is muddied
withall. Pray you sir, vse the Carpe as you may, for he
lookes like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally
knaue. I doe pittie his distresse in my smiles of comfort,
and leaue him to your Lordship
   Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
   Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too
late to paire her nailes now. Wherein haue you played
the knaue with fortune that she should scratch you, who
of her selfe is a good Lady, and would not haue knaues
thriue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the
Iustices make you and fortune friends; I am for other
   Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single
  Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall
ha't, saue your word
   Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles
   Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion,
giue me your hand: How does your drumme?
  Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found
   Laf. Was I insooth? And I was the first that lost thee
   Par. It lies in you my Lord to bring me in some grace
for you did bring me out
   Laf. Out vpon thee knaue, doest thou put vpon mee
at once both the office of God and the diuel: one brings
thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings
comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further
after me, I had talke of you last night, though you
are a foole and a knaue, you shall eate, go too, follow
   Par. I praise God for you.
Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with
  Kin. We lost a Iewell of her, and our esteeme
Was made much poorer by it: but your sonne,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sence to know
Her estimation home
   Old La. 'Tis past my Liege,
And I beseech your Maiestie to make it
Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth,
When oyle and fire, too strong for reasons force,
Ore-beares it, and burnes on
   Kin. My honour'd Lady,
I haue forgiuen and forgotten all,
Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him,
And watch'd the time to shoote
   Laf. This I must say,
But first I begge my pardon: the yong Lord
Did to his Maiesty, his Mother, and his Ladie,
Offence of mighty note; but to himselfe
The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife,
Whose beauty did astonish the suruey
Of richest eies: whose words all eares tooke captiue,
Whose deere perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serue,
Humbly call'd Mistris
   Kin. Praising what is lost,
Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither,
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition: Let him not aske our pardon,
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper then obliuion, we do burie
Th' incensing reliques of it. Let him approach
A stranger, no offender; and informe him
So 'tis our will he should
   Gent. I shall my Liege
   Kin. What sayes he to your daughter,
Haue you spoke?
  Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highnes
   Kin. Then shall we haue a match. I haue letters sent
me, that sets him high in fame.
Enter Count Bertram.
  Laf. He lookes well on't
   Kin. I am not a day of season,
For thou maist see a sun-shine, and a haile
In me at once: But to the brightest beames
Distracted clouds giue way, so stand thou forth,
The time is faire againe
   Ber. My high repented blames
Deere Soueraigne pardon to me
   Kin. All is whole,
Not one word more of the consumed time,
Let's take the instant by the forward top:
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
Th' inaudible, and noiselesse foot of time
Steales, ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this Lord?
  Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at first
I stucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herauld of my tongue:
Where the impression of mine eye enfixing,
Contempt his scornfull Perspectiue did lend me,
Which warpt the line, of euerie other fauour,
Scorn'd a faire colour, or exprest it stolne,
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous obiect. Thence it came,
That she whom all men prais'd, and whom my selfe,
Since I haue lost, haue lou'd; was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it
   Kin. Well excus'd:
That thou didst loue her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: but loue that comes too late,
Like a remorsefull pardon slowly carried
To the great sender, turnes a sowre offence,
Crying, that's good that's gone: Our rash faults,
Make triuiall price of serious things we haue,
Not knowing them, vntill we know their graue.
Oft our displeasures to our selues vniust,
Destroy our friends, and after weepe their dust:
Our owne loue waking, cries to see what's done,
While shamefull hate sleepes out the afternoone.
Be this sweet Helens knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for faire Maudlin,
The maine consents are had, and heere wee'l stay
To see our widdowers second marriage day:
Which better then the first, O deere heauen blesse,
Or, ere they meete in me, O Nature cesse
   Laf. Come on my sonne, in whom my houses name
Must be digested: giue a fauour from you
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. By my old beard,
And eu'rie haire that's on't, Helen that's dead
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The last that ere I tooke her leaue at Court,
I saw vpon her finger
   Ber. Hers it was not
   King. Now pray you let me see it. For mine eye,
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd too't:
This Ring was mine, and when I gaue it Hellen,
I bad her if her fortunes euer stoode
Necessitied to helpe, that by this token
I would releeue her. Had you that craft to reaue her
Of what should stead her most?
  Ber. My gracious Soueraigne,
How ere it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was neuer hers
   Old La. Sonne, on my life
I haue seene her weare it, and she reckon'd it
At her liues rate
   Laf. I am sure I saw her weare it
   Ber. You are deceiu'd my Lord, she neuer saw it:
In Florence was it from a casement throwne mee,
Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it: Noble she was, and thought
I stood ingag'd, but when I had subscrib'd
To mine owne fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of Honour
As she had made the ouerture, she ceast
In heauie satisfaction, and would neuer
Receiue the Ring againe
   Kin. Platus himselfe,
That knowes the tinct and multiplying med'cine,
Hath not in natures mysterie more science,
Then I haue in this Ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helens,
Who euer gaue it you: then if you know
That you are well acquainted with your selfe,
Confesse 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her. She call'd the Saints to suretie,
That she would neuer put it from her finger,
Vnlesse she gaue it to your selfe in bed,
Where you haue neuer come: or sent it vs
Vpon her great disaster
   Ber. She neuer saw it
   Kin. Thou speak'st it falsely: as I loue mine Honor,
And mak'st connecturall feares to come into me,
Which I would faine shut out, if it should proue
That thou art so inhumane, 'twill not proue so:
And yet I know not, thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead, which nothing but to close
Her eyes my selfe, could win me to beleeue,
More then to see this Ring. Take him away,
My fore-past proofes, how ere the matter fall
Shall taze my feares of little vanitie,
Hauing vainly fear'd too little. Away with him,
Wee'l sift this matter further
   Ber. If you shall proue
This Ring was euer hers, you shall as easie
Proue that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she neuer was.
Enter a Gentleman.
  King. I am wrap'd in dismall thinkings
   Gen. Gracious Soueraigne.
Whether I haue beene too blame or no, I know not,
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath for foure or fiue remoues come short,
To tender it her selfe. I vndertooke it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the faire grace and speech
Of the poore suppliant, who by this I know
Is heere attending: her businesse lookes in her
With an importing visage, and she told me
In a sweet verball breefe, it did concerne
Your Highnesse with her selfe.
Vpon his many protestations to marrie mee when his wife was
dead, I blush to say it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Rossillion
a Widdower, his vowes are forfeited to mee, and my
honors payed to him. Hee stole from Florence, taking no
leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for Iustice: Grant
it me, O King, in you it best lies, otherwise a seducer flourishes,
and a poore Maid is vndone.
Diana Capilet
   Laf. I will buy me a sonne in Law in a faire, and toule
for this. Ile none of him
   Kin. The heauens haue thought well on thee Lafew,
To bring forth this discou'rie, seeke these sutors:
Go speedily, and bring againe the Count.
Enter Bertram.
I am a-feard the life of Hellen (Ladie)
Was fowly snatcht
   Old La. Now iustice on the doers
   King. I wonder sir, sir, wiues are monsters to you,
And that you flye them as you sweare them Lordship,
Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that?
Enter Widdow, Diana, and Parrolles.
  Dia. I am my Lord a wretched Florentine,
Deriued from the ancient Capilet,
My suite as I do vnderstand you know,
And therefore know how farre I may be pittied
   Wid. I am her Mother sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer vnder this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedie
   King. Come hether Count, do you know these Women?
  Ber. My Lord, I neither can nor will denie,
But that I know them, do they charge me further?
  Dia. Why do you looke so strange vpon your wife?
  Ber. She's none of mine my Lord
   Dia. If you shall marrie
You giue away this hand, and that is mine,
You giue away heauens vowes, and those are mine:
You giue away my selfe, which is knowne mine:
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you, must marrie me,
Either both or none
   Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter,
you are no husband for her
   Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature,
Whom sometime I haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes
Lay a more noble thought vpon mine honour,
Then for to thinke that I would sinke it heere
   Kin. Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend,
Till your deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor,
Then in my thought it lies
   Dian. Good my Lord,
Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke
He had not my virginity
   Kin. What saist thou to her?
  Ber. She's impudent my Lord,
And was a common gamester to the Campe
   Dia. He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so,
He might haue bought me at a common price.
Do not beleeue him. O behold this Ring,
Whose high respect and rich validitie
Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that
He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe
   Coun. He blushes, and 'tis hit:
Of sixe preceding Ancestors that Iemme
Confer'd by testament to'th sequent issue
Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife,
That Ring's a thousand proofes
   King. Me thought you saide
You saw one heere in Court could witnesse it
   Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument, his names Parrolles
   Laf. I saw the man to day, if man he bee
   Kin. Finde him, and bring him hether
   Ros. What of him:
He's quoted for a most perfidious slaue
With all the spots a'th world, taxt and debosh'd,
Whose nature sickens: but to speake a truth,
Am I, or that or this for what he'l vtter,
That will speake any thing
   Kin. She hath that Ring of yours
   Ros. I thinke she has; certaine it is I lyk'd her,
And boorded her i'th wanton way of youth:
She knew her distance, and did angle for mee,
Madding my eagernesse with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancies course
Are motiues of more fancie, and in fine,
Her insuite comming with her moderne grace,
Subdu'd me to her rate, she got the Ring,
And I had that which any inferiour might
At Market price haue bought
   Dia. I must be patient:
You that haue turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May iustly dyet me. I pray you yet,
(Since you lacke vertue, I will loose a husband)
Send for your Ring, I will returne it home,
And giue me mine againe
   Ros. I haue it not
   Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you?
  Dian. Sir much like the same vpon your finger
   Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late
   Dia. And this was it I gaue him being a bed
   Kin. The story then goes false, you threw it him
Out of a Casement
   Dia. I haue spoke the truth.
Enter Parolles.
  Ros. My Lord, I do confesse the ring was hers
   Kin. You boggle shrewdly, euery feather starts you:
Is this the man you speake of?
  Dia. I, my Lord
   Kin. Tell me sirrah, but tell me true I charge you,
Not fearing the displeasure of your master:
Which on your iust proceeding, Ile keepe off,
By him and by this woman heere, what know you?
  Par. So please your Maiesty, my master hath bin an
honourable Gentleman. Trickes hee hath had in him,
which Gentlemen haue
   Kin. Come, come, to'th' purpose: Did hee loue this
  Par. Faith sir he did loue her, but how
   Kin. How I pray you?
  Par. He did loue her sir, as a Gent. loues a Woman
   Kin. How is that?
  Par. He lou'd her sir, and lou'd her not
   Kin. As thou art a knaue and no knaue, what an equiuocall
Companion is this?
  Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maiesties command
   Laf. Hee's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughtie
   Dian. Do you know he promist me marriage?
  Par. Faith I know more then Ile speake
   Kin. But wilt thou not speake all thou know'st?
  Par. Yes so please your Maiesty: I did goe betweene
them as I said, but more then that he loued her, for indeede
he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathan, and of
Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in
that credit with them at that time, that I knewe of their
going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her
marriage, and things which would deriue mee ill will to
speake of, therefore I will not speake what I know
   Kin. Thou hast spoken all alreadie, vnlesse thou canst
say they are maried, but thou art too fine in thy euidence,
therefore stand aside. This Ring you say was yours
   Dia. I my good Lord
   Kin. Where did you buy it? Or who gaue it you?
  Dia. It was not giuen me, nor I did not buy it
   Kin. Who lent it you?
  Dia. It was not lent me neither
   Kin. Where did you finde it then?
  Dia. I found it not
   Kin. If it were yours by none of all these wayes,
How could you giue it him?
  Dia. I neuer gaue it him
   Laf. This womans an easie gloue my Lord, she goes
off and on at pleasure
   Kin. This Ring was mine, I gaue it his first wife
   Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know
   Kin. Take her away, I do not like her now,
To prison with her: and away with him,
Vnlesse thou telst me where thou hadst this Ring,
Thou diest within this houre
   Dia. Ile neuer tell you
   Kin. Take her away
   Dia. Ile put in baile my liedge
   Kin. I thinke thee now some common Customer
   Dia. By Ioue if euer I knew man 'twas you
   King. Wherefore hast thou accusde him al this while
   Dia. Because he's guiltie, and he is not guilty:
He knowes I am no Maid, and hee'l sweare too't:
Ile sweare I am a Maid, and he knowes not.
Great King I am no strumpet, by my life,
I am either Maid, or else this old mans wife
   Kin. She does abuse our eares, to prison with her
   Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall sir,
The Ieweller that owes the Ring is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this Lord,
Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himselfe,
Though yet he neuer harm'd me, heere I quit him.
He knowes himselfe my bed he hath defil'd,
And at that time he got his wife with childe:
Dead though she be, she feeles her yong one kicke:
So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke,
And now behold the meaning.
Enter Hellen and Widdow.
  Kin. Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes?
Is't reall that I see?
  Hel. No my good Lord,
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing
   Ros. Both, both, O pardon
   Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid,
I found you wondrous kinde, there is your Ring,
And looke you, heeres your letter: this it sayes,
When from my finger you can get this Ring,
And is by me with childe, &c. This is done,
Will you be mine now you are doubly wonne?
  Ros. If she my Liege can make me know this clearly,
Ile loue her dearely, euer, euer dearly
   Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and proue vntrue,
Deadly diuorce step betweene me and you.
O my deere mother do I see you liuing?
  Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon:
Good Tom Drumme lend me a handkercher.
So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make sport with
thee: Let thy curtsies alone, they are scuruy ones
   King. Let vs from point to point this storie know,
To make the euen truth in pleasure flow:
If thou beest yet a fresh vncropped flower,
Choose thou thy husband, and Ile pay thy dower.
For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde,
Thou keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide.
Of that and all the progresse more and lesse,
Resoluedly more leasure shall expresse:
All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
The Kings a Begger, now the Play is done,
All is well ended, if this suite be wonne,
That you expresse Content: which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts,
Your gentle hands lend vs, and take our hearts.
Exeunt. omn.
FINIS. ALL'S Well, that Ends Well.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Othello, 
the Moore of Venice
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie
of Othello, the Moore of Venice.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Rodorigo, and Iago.
  Rodorigo. Neuer tell me, I take it much vnkindly
That thou (Iago) who hast had my purse,
As if y strings were thine, should'st know of this
   Ia. But you'l not heare me. If euer I did dream
Of such a matter, abhorre me
   Rodo. Thou told'st me,
Thou did'st hold him in thy hate
   Iago. Despise me
If I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie,
(In personall suite to make me his Lieutenant)
Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man
I know my price, I am worth no worsse a place.
But he (as louing his owne pride, and purposes)
Euades them, with a bumbast Circumstance,
Horribly stufft with Epithites of warre,
Non-suites my Mediators. For certes, saies he,
I haue already chose my Officer. And what was he?
For-sooth, a great Arithmatician,
One Michaell Cassio, a Florentine,
(A Fellow almost damn'd in a faire Wife)
That neuer set a Squadron in the Field,
Nor the deuision of a Battaile knowes
More then a Spinster. Vnlesse the Bookish Theoricke:
Wherein the Tongued Consuls can propose
As Masterly as he. Meere pratle (without practise)
Is all his Souldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election;
And I (of whom his eies had seene the proofe
At Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others grounds
Christen'd, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calm'd
By Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster,
He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be,
And I (blesse the marke) his Mooreships Auntient
   Rod. By heauen, I rather would haue bin his hangman
   Iago. Why, there's no remedie.
'Tis the cursse of Seruice;
Preferment goes by Letter, and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each second
Stood Heire to'th' first. Now Sir, be iudge your selfe,
Whether I in any iust terme am Affin'd
To loue the Moore?
  Rod. I would not follow him then
   Iago. O Sir content you.
I follow him, to serue my turne vpon him.
We cannot all be Masters, nor all Masters
Cannot be truely follow'd. You shall marke
Many a dutious and knee-crooking knaue;
That (doting on his owne obsequious bondage)
Weares out his time, much like his Masters Asse,
For naught but Prouender, & when he's old Casheer'd.
Whip me such honest knaues. Others there are
Who trym'd in Formes, and visages of Dutie,
Keepe yet their hearts attending on themselues,
And throwing but showes of Seruice on their Lords
Doe well thriue by them.
And when they haue lin'd their Coates
Doe themselues Homage.
These Fellowes haue some soule,
And such a one do I professe my selfe. For (Sir)
It is as sure as you are Rodorigo,
Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but my selfe.
Heauen is my Iudge, not I for loue and dutie,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward Action doth demonstrate
The natiue act, and figure of my heart
In Complement externe, 'tis not long after
But I will weare my heart vpon my sleeue
For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am
   Rod. What a fall Fortune do's the Thicks-lips owe
If he can carry't thus?
  Iago. Call vp her Father:
Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight,
Proclaime him in the Streets. Incense her kinsmen,
And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell,
Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy,
Yet throw such chances of vexation on't,
As it may loose some colour
   Rodo. Heere is her Fathers house, Ile call aloud
   Iago. Doe, with like timerous accent, and dire yell,
As when (by Night and Negligence) the Fire
Is spied in populus Citties
   Rodo. What hoa: Brabantio, Signior Brabantio, hoa
   Iago. Awake: what hoa, Brabantio: Theeues, Theeues.
Looke to your house, your daughter, and your Bags,
Theeues, Theeues
   Bra. Aboue. What is the reason of this terrible
Summons? What is the matter there?
  Rodo. Signior is all your Familie within?
  Iago. Are your Doores lock'd?
  Bra. Why? Wherefore ask you this?
  Iago. Sir, y'are rob'd, for shame put on your Gowne,
Your heart is burst, you haue lost halfe your soule
Euen now, now, very now, an old blacke Ram
Is tupping your white Ewe. Arise, arise,
Awake the snorting Cittizens with the Bell,
Or else the deuill will make a Grand-sire of you.
   Bra. What, haue you lost your wits?
  Rod. Most reuerend Signior, do you know my voice?
  Bra. Not I: what are you?
  Rod. My name is Rodorigo
   Bra. The worsser welcome:
I haue charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores:
In honest plainenesse thou hast heard me say,
My Daughter is not for thee. And now in madnesse
(Being full of Supper, and distempring draughtes)
Vpon malitious knauerie, dost thou come
To start my quiet
   Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir
   Bra. But thou must needs be sure,
My spirits and my place haue in their power
To make this bitter to thee
   Rodo. Patience good Sir
   Bra. What tell'st thou me of Robbing?
This is Venice: my house is not a Grange
   Rodo. Most graue Brabantio,
In simple and pure soule, I come to you
   Ia. Sir: you are one of those that will not serue God,
if the deuill bid you. Because we come to do you seruice,
and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter
couer'd with a Barbary horse, you'le haue your Nephewes
neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for Cozens:
and Gennets for Germaines
   Bra. What prophane wretch art thou?
  Ia. I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daughter
and the Moore, are making the Beast with two backs
   Bra. Thou art a Villaine
   Iago. You are a Senator
   Bra. This thou shalt answere. I know thee Rodorigo
   Rod. Sir, I will answere any thing. But I beseech you
If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent,
(As partly I find it is) that your faire Daughter,
At this odde Euen and dull watch o'th' night
Transported with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knaue of common hire, a Gundelier,
To the grosse claspes of a Lasciuious Moore:
If this be knowne to you, and your Allowance,
We then haue done you bold, and saucie wrongs.
But if you know not this, my Manners tell me,
We haue your wrong rebuke. Do not beleeue
That from the sence of all Ciuilitie,
I thus would play and trifle with your Reuerence.
Your Daughter (if you haue not giuen her leaue)
I say againe, hath made a grosse reuolt,
Tying her Dutie, Beautie, Wit, and Fortunes
In an extrauagant, and wheeling Stranger,
Of here, and euery where: straight satisfie your selfe.
If she be in her Chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the Iustice of the State
For thus deluding you
   Bra. Strike on the Tinder, hoa:
Giue me a Taper: call vp all my people,
This Accident is not vnlike my dreame,
Beleefe of it oppresses me alreadie.
Light, I say, light.
  Iag. Farewell: for I must leaue you.
It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my place
To be producted, (as if I stay, I shall,)
Against the Moore. For I do know the State,
(How euer this may gall him with some checke)
Cannot with safetie cast-him. For he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus Warres,
(Which euen now stands in Act) that for their soules
Another of his Fadome, they haue none,
To lead their Businesse. In which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell paines,
Yet, for necessitie of present life,
I must show out a Flag, and signe of Loue,
(Which is indeed but signe) that you shal surely find him
Lead to the Sagitary the raised Search:
And there will I be with him. So farewell.
Enter Brabantio, with Seruants and Torches.
  Bra. It is too true an euill. Gone she is,
And what's to come of my despised time,
Is naught but bitternesse. Now Rodorigo,
Where didst thou see her? (Oh vnhappie Girle)
With the Moore saist thou? (Who would be a Father?)
How didst thou know 'twas she? (Oh she deceaues me
Past thought:) what said she to you? Get moe Tapers.
Raise all my Kindred. Are they married thinke you?
  Rodo. Truely I thinke they are
   Bra. Oh Heauen: how got she out?
Oh treason of the blood.
Fathers, from hence trust not your Daughters minds
By what you see them act. Is there not Charmes,
By which the propertie of Youth, and Maidhood
May be abus'd? Haue you not read Rodorigo,
Of some such thing?
  Rod. Yes Sir: I haue indeed
   Bra. Call vp my Brother: oh would you had had her.
Some one way, some another. Doe you know
Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore?
  Rod. I thinke I can discouer him, if you please
To get good Guard, and go along with me
   Bra. Pray you lead on. At euery house Ile call,
(I may command at most) get Weapons (hoa)
And raise some speciall Officers of might:
On good Rodorigo, I will deserue your paines.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.
  Ia. Though in the trade of Warre I haue slaine men,
Yet do I hold it very stuffe o'th' conscience
To do no contriu'd Murder: I lacke Iniquitie
Sometime to do me seruice. Nine, or ten times
I had thought t'haue yerk'd him here vnder the Ribbes
   Othello. 'Tis better as it is
   Iago. Nay but he prated,
And spoke such scuruy, and prouoking termes
Against your Honor, that with the little godlinesse I haue
I did full hard forbeare him. But I pray you Sir,
Are you fast married? Be assur'd of this,
That the Magnifico is much belou'd,
And hath in his effect a voice potentiall
As double as the Dukes: He will diuorce you.
Or put vpon you, what restraint or greeuance,
The Law (with all his might, to enforce it on)
Will giue him Cable
   Othel. Let him do his spight;
My Seruices, which I haue done the Signorie
Shall out-tongue his Complaints. 'Tis yet to know,
Which when I know, that boasting is an Honour,
I shall promulgate. I fetch my life and being,
From Men of Royall Seige. And my demerites
May speake (vnbonnetted) to as proud a Fortune
As this that I haue reach'd. For know Iago,
But that I loue the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my vnhoused free condition
Put into Circumscription, and Confine,
For the Seas worth. But looke, what Lights come yond?
Enter Cassio, with Torches.
  Iago. Those are the raised Father, and his Friends:
You were best go in
   Othel. Not I: I must be found.
My Parts, my Title, and my perfect Soule
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
  Iago. By Ianus, I thinke no
   Othel. The Seruants of the Dukes?
And my Lieutenant?
The goodnesse of the Night vpon you (Friends)
What is the Newes?
  Cassio. The Duke do's greet you (Generall)
And he requires your haste, Post-haste appearance,
Euen on the instant
   Othello. What is the matter, thinke you?
  Cassio. Something from Cyprus, as I may diuine:
It is a businesse of some heate. The Gallies
Haue sent a dozen sequent Messengers
This very night, at one anothers heeles:
And many of the Consuls, rais'd and met,
Are at the Dukes already. You haue bin hotly call'd for,
When being not at your Lodging to be found,
The Senate hath sent about three seuerall Quests,
To search you out
   Othel. 'Tis well I am found by you:
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And goe with you
   Cassio. Aunciant, what makes he heere?
  Iago. Faith, he to night hath boarded a Land Carract,
If it proue lawfull prize, he's made for euer
   Cassio. I do not vnderstand
   Iago. He's married
   Cassio. To who?
  Iago. Marry to- Come Captaine, will you go?
  Othel. Haue with you
   Cassio. Here comes another Troope to seeke for you.
Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with Officers, and Torches.
  Iago. It is Brabantio: Generall be aduis'd,
He comes to bad intent
   Othello. Holla, stand there
   Rodo. Signior, it is the Moore
   Bra. Downe with him, Theefe
   Iago. You, Rodorigo? Come Sir, I am for you
   Othe. Keepe vp your bright Swords, for the dew will
rust them. Good Signior, you shall more command with
yeares, then with your Weapons
   Bra. Oh thou foule Theefe,
Where hast thou stow'd my Daughter?
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchaunted her
For Ile referre me to all things of sense,
(If she in Chaines of Magick were not bound)
Whether a Maid, so tender, Faire, and Happie,
So opposite to Marriage, that she shun'd
The wealthy curled Deareling of our Nation,
Would euer haue (t' encurre a generall mocke)
Run from her Guardage to the sootie bosome,
Of such a thing as thou: to feare, not to delight?
Iudge me the world, if 'tis not grosse in sense,
That thou hast practis'd on her with foule Charmes,
Abus'd her delicate Youth, with Drugs or Minerals,
That weakens Motion. Ile haue't disputed on,
'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking;
I therefore apprehend and do attach thee,
For an abuser of the World, a practiser
Of Arts inhibited, and out of warrant;
Lay hold vpon him, if he do resist
Subdue him, at his perill
   Othe. Hold your hands
Both you of my inclining, and the rest.
Were it my Cue to fight, I should haue knowne it
Without a Prompter. Whether will you that I goe
To answere this your charge?
  Bra. To Prison, till fit time
Of Law, and course of direct Session
Call thee to answer
   Othe. What if I do obey?
How may the Duke be therewith satisfi'd,
Whose Messengers are heere about my side,
Vpon some present businesse of the State,
To bring me to him
   Officer. 'Tis true most worthy Signior,
The Dukes in Counsell, and your Noble selfe,
I am sure is sent for
   Bra. How? The Duke in Counsell?
In this time of the night? Bring him away;
Mine's not an idle Cause. The Duke himselfe,
Or any of my Brothers of the State,
Cannot but feele this wrong, as 'twere their owne:
For if such Actions may haue passage free,
Bond-slaues, and Pagans shall our Statesmen be.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Duke, Senators, and Officers.
  Duke. There's no composition in this Newes,
That giues them Credite
   1.Sen. Indeed, they are disproportioned;
My Letters say, a Hundred and seuen Gallies
   Duke. And mine a Hundred fortie
   2.Sena. And mine two Hundred:
But though they iumpe not on a iust accompt,
(As in these Cases where the ayme reports,
'Tis oft with difference) yet do they all confirme
A Turkish Fleete, and bearing vp to Cyprus
   Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to iudgement:
I do not so secure me in the Error,
But the maine Article I do approue
In fearefull sense
   Saylor within. What hoa, what hoa, what hoa.
Enter Saylor.
  Officer. A Messenger from the Gallies
   Duke. Now? What's the businesse?
  Sailor. The Turkish Preparation makes for Rhodes,
So was I bid report here to the State,
By Signior Angelo
   Duke. How say you by this change?
  1.Sen. This cannot be
By no assay of reason. 'Tis a Pageant
To keepe vs in false gaze, when we consider
Th' importancie of Cyprus to the Turke;
And let our selues againe but vnderstand,
That as it more concernes the Turke then Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question beare it,
For that it stands not in such Warrelike brace,
But altogether lackes th' abilities
That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this,
We must not thinke the Turke is so vnskillfull,
To leaue that latest, which concernes him first,
Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gaine
To wake, and wage a danger profitlesse
   Duke. Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes
   Officer. Here is more Newes.
Enter a Messenger.
  Messen. The Ottamites, Reueren'd, and Gracious,
Steering with due course toward the Ile of Rhodes,
Haue there inioynted them with an after Fleete
   1.Sen. I, so I thought: how many, as you guesse?
  Mess. Of thirtie Saile: and now they do re-stem
Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
Your trustie and most Valiant Seruitour,
With his free dutie, recommends you thus,
And prayes you to beleeue him
   Duke. 'Tis certaine then for Cyprus:
Marcus Luccicos is not he in Towne?
  1.Sen. He's now in Florence
   Duke. Write from vs,
To him, Post, Post-haste, dispatch
   1.Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the Valiant Moore.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo, and Officers.
  Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you,
Against the generall Enemy Ottoman.
I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior,
We lack't your Counsaile, and your helpe to night
   Bra. So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me.
Neither my place, nor ought I heard of businesse
Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the generall care
Take hold on me. For my perticular griefe
Is of so flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature,
That it engluts, and swallowes other sorrowes,
And it is still it selfe
   Duke. Why? What's the matter?
  Bra. My Daughter: oh my Daughter!
  Sen. Dead?
  Bra. I, to me.
She is abus'd, stolne from me, and corrupted
By Spels, and Medicines, bought of Mountebanks;
For Nature, so prepostrously to erre,
(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,)
Sans witch-craft could not
   Duke. Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding
Hath thus beguil'd your Daughter of her selfe,
And you of her; the bloodie Booke of Law,
You shall your selfe read, in the bitter letter,
After your owne sense: yea, though our proper Son
Stood in your Action
   Bra. Humbly I thanke your Grace,
Here is the man; this Moore, whom now it seemes
Your speciall Mandate, for the State affaires
Hath hither brought
   All. We are verie sorry for't
   Duke. What in your owne part, can you say to this?
  Bra. Nothing, but this is so
   Othe. Most Potent, Graue, and Reueren'd Signiors,
My very Noble, and approu'd good Masters;
That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter,
It is most true: true I haue married her;
The verie head, and front of my offending,
Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I, in my speech,
And little bless'd with the soft phrase of Peace;
For since these Armes of mine, had seuen yeares pith,
Till now, some nine Moones wasted, they haue vs'd
Their deerest action, in the Tented Field:
And little of this great world can I speake,
More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and Battaile,
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for my selfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience)
I will a round vn-varnish'd Tale deliuer,
Of my whole course of Loue.
What Drugges, what Charmes,
What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke,
(For such proceeding I am charg'd withall)
I won his Daughter
   Bra. A Maiden, neuer bold:
Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her Motion
Blush'd at her selfe, and she, in spight of Nature,
Of Yeares, of Country, Credite, euery thing
To fall in Loue, with what she fear'd to looke on;
It is a iudgement main'd, and most imperfect.
That will confesse Perfection so could erre
Against all rules of Nature, and must be driuen
To find out practises of cunning hell
Why this should be. I therefore vouch againe,
That with some Mixtures, powrefull o're the blood,
Or with some Dram, (coniur'd to this effect)
He wrought vpon her.
To vouch this, is no proofe,
Without more wider, and more ouer Test
Then these thin habits, and poore likely-hoods
Of moderne seeming, do prefer against him
   Sen. But Othello, speake,
Did you, by indirect, and forced courses
Subdue, and poyson this yong Maides affections?
Or came it by request, and such faire question
As soule, to soule affordeth?
  Othel. I do beseech you,
Send for the Lady to the Sagitary,
And let her speake of me before her Father;
If you do finde me foule, in her report,
The Trust, the Office, I do hold of you,
Not onely take away, but let your Sentence
Euen fall vpon my life
   Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither
   Othe. Aunciant, conduct them:
You best know the place.
And tell she come, as truely as to heauen,
I do confesse the vices of my blood,
So iustly to your Graue eares, Ile present
How I did thriue in this faire Ladies loue,
And she in mine
   Duke. Say it Othello
   Othe. Her Father lou'd me, oft inuited me:
Still question'd me the Storie of my life,
From yeare to yeare: the Battaile, Sieges, Fortune,
That I haue past.
I ran it through, euen from my boyish daies,
Toth' very moment that he bad me tell it.
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:
Of mouing Accidents by Flood and Field,
Of haire-breadth scapes i'th' imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the Insolent Foe,
And sold to slauery. Of my redemption thence,
And portance in my Trauellours historie.
Wherein of Antars vast, and Desarts idle,
Rough Quarries, Rocks, Hills, whose head touch heauen,
It was my hint to speake. Such was my Processe,
And of the Canibals that each others eate,
The Antropophague, and men whose heads
Grew beneath their shoulders. These things to heare,
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house Affaires would draw her hence:
Which euer as she could with haste dispatch,
She'l'd come againe, and with a greedie eare
Deuoure vp my discourse. Which I obseruing,
Tooke once a pliant houre, and found good meanes
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my Pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not instinctiuely: I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her teares,
When I did speake of some distressefull stroke
That my youth suffer'd: My Storie being done,
She gaue me for my paines a world of kisses:
She swore in faith 'twas strange: 'twas passing strange,
'Twas pittifull: 'twas wondrous pittifull.
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That Heauen had made her such a man. She thank'd me,
And bad me, if I had a Friend that lou'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my Story,
And that would wooe her. Vpon this hint I spake,
She lou'd me for the dangers I had past,
And I lou'd her, that she did pitty them.
This onely is the witch-craft I haue vs'd.
Here comes the Ladie: Let her witnesse it.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants.
  Duke. I thinke this tale would win my Daughter too,
Good Brabantio, take vp this mangled matter at the best:
Men do their broken Weapons rather vse,
Then their bare hands
   Bra. I pray you heare her speake?
If she confesse that she was halfe the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
Light on the man. Come hither gentle Mistris,
Do you perceiue in all this Noble Companie,
Where most you owe obedience?
  Des. My Noble Father,
I do perceiue heere a diuided dutie.
To you I am bound for life, and education:
My life and education both do learne me,
How to respect you. You are the Lord of duty,
I am hitherto your Daughter. But heere's my Husband;
And so much dutie, as my Mother shew'd
To you, preferring you before her Father:
So much I challenge, that I may professe
Due to the Moore my Lord
   Bra. God be with you: I haue done.
Please it your Grace, on to the State Affaires;
I had rather to adopt a Child, then get it.
Come hither Moore;
I here do giue thee that with all my heart,
Which but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keepe from thee. For your sake (Iewell)
I am glad at soule, I haue no other Child,
For thy escape would teach me Tirranie
To hang clogges on them. I haue done my Lord
   Duke. Let me speake like your selfe:
And lay a Sentence,
Which as a grise, or step may helpe these Louers.
When remedies are past, the griefes are ended
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourne a Mischeefe that is past and gon,
Is the next way to draw new mischiefe on.
What cannot be preseru'd, when Fortune takes:
Patience, her Iniury a mock'ry makes.
The rob'd that smiles, steales something from the Thiefe,
He robs himselfe, that spends a bootelesse griefe
   Bra. So let the Turke of Cyprus vs beguile,
We loose it not so long as we can smile:
He beares the Sentence well, that nothing beares,
But the free comfort which from thence he heares.
But he beares both the Sentence, and the sorrow,
That to pay griefe, must of poore Patience borrow.
These Sentences, to Sugar, or to Gall,
Being strong on both sides, are Equiuocall.
But words are words, I neuer yet did heare:
That the bruized heart was pierc'd through the eares.
I humbly beseech you proceed to th' Affaires of State
   Duke. The Turke with a most mighty Preparation
makes for Cyprus: Othello, the Fortitude of the place is
best knowne to you. And though we haue there a Substitute
of most allowed sufficiencie; yet opinion, a more
soueraigne Mistris of Effects, throwes a more safer
voice on you: you must therefore be content to slubber
the glosse of your new Fortunes, with this more stubborne,
and boystrous expedition
   Othe. The Tirant Custome, most Graue Senators,
Hath made the flinty and Steele Coach of Warre
My thrice-driuen bed of Downe. I do agnize
A Naturall and prompt Alacratie,
I finde in hardnesse: and do vndertake
This present Warres against the Ottamites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your State,
I craue fit disposition for my Wife,
Due reference of Place, and Exhibition,
With such Accomodation and besort
As leuels with her breeding
   Duke. Why at her Fathers?
  Bra. I will not haue it so
   Othe. Nor I
   Des. Nor would I there recide,
To put my Father in impatient thoughts
By being in his eye. Most Gracious Duke,
To my vnfolding, lend your prosperous eare,
And let me finde a Charter in your voice
T' assist my simplenesse
   Duke. What would you Desdemona?
  Des. That I loue the Moore, to liue with him,
My downe-right violence, and storme of Fortunes,
May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdu'd
Euen to the very quality of my Lord;
I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
And to his Honours and his valiant parts,
Did I my soule and Fortunes consecrate.
So that (deere Lords) if I be left behind
A Moth of Peace, and he go to the Warre,
The Rites for why I loue him, are bereft me:
And I a heauie interim shall support
By his deere absence. Let me go with him
   Othe. Let her haue your voice.
Vouch with me Heauen, I therefore beg it not
To please the pallate of my Appetite:
Nor to comply with heat the yong affects
In my defunct, and proper satisfaction.
But to be free, and bounteous to her minde:
And Heauen defend your good soules, that you thinke
I will your serious and great businesse scant
When she is with me. No, when light wing'd Toyes
Of feather'd Cupid, seele with wanton dulnesse
My speculatiue, and offic'd Instrument:
That my Disports corrupt, and taint my businesse:
Let House-wiues make a Skillet of my Helme,
And all indigne, and base aduersities,
Make head against my Estimation
   Duke. Be it as you shall priuately determine,
Either for her stay, or going: th' Affaire cries hast:
And speed must answer it
   Sen. You must away to night
   Othe. With all my heart
   Duke. At nine i'th' morning, here wee'l meete againe.
Othello, leaue some Officer behind
And he shall our Commission bring to you:
And such things else of qualitie and respect
As doth import you
   Othe. So please your Grace, my Ancient,
A man he is of honesty and trust:
To his conueyance I assigne my wife,
With what else needfull, your good Grace shall think
To be sent after me
   Duke. Let it be so:
Good night to euery one. And Noble Signior,
If Vertue no delighted Beautie lacke,
Your Son-in-law is farre more Faire then Blacke
   Sen. Adieu braue Moore, vse Desdemona well
   Bra. Looke to her (Moore) if thou hast eies to see:
She ha's deceiu'd her Father, and may thee.
  Othe. My life vpon her faith. Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leaue to thee:
I prythee let thy wife attend on her,
And bring them after in the best aduantage.
Come Desdemona, I haue but an houre
Of Loue, of wordly matter, and direction
To spend with thee. We must obey the time.
   Iago. What saist thou Noble heart?
  Rod. What will I do, think'st thou?
  Iago. Why go to bed and sleepe
   Rod. I will incontinently drowne my selfe
   Iago. If thou do'st, I shall neuer loue thee after. Why
thou silly Gentleman?
  Rod. It is sillynesse to liue, when to liue is torment:
and then haue we a prescription to dye, when death is
our Physition
   Iago. Oh villanous: I haue look'd vpon the world
for foure times seuen yeares, and since I could distinguish
betwixt a Benefit, and an Iniurie: I neuer found man that
knew how to loue himselfe. Ere I would say, I would
drowne my selfe for the loue of a Gynney Hen, I would
change my Humanity with a Baboone
   Rod. What should I do? I confesse it is my shame
to be so fond, but it is not in my vertue to amend it
   Iago. Vertue? A figge, 'tis in our selues that we are
thus, or thus. Our Bodies are our Gardens, to the which,
our Wills are Gardiners. So that if we will plant Nettels,
or sowe Lettice: Set Hisope, and weede vp Time:
Supplie it with one gender of Hearbes, or distract it with
many: either to haue it sterrill with idlenesse, or manured
with Industry, why the power, and Corrigeable authoritie
of this lies in our Wills. If the braine of our liues
had not one Scale of Reason, to poize another of Sensualitie,
the blood, and basenesse of our Natures would
conduct vs to most prepostrous Conclusions. But we
haue Reason to coole our raging Motions, our carnall
Stings, or vnbitted Lusts: whereof I take this, that you
call Loue, to be a Sect, or Seyen
   Rod. It cannot be
   Iago. It is meerly a Lust of the blood, and a permission
of the will. Come, be a man: drowne thy selfe? Drown
Cats, and blind Puppies. I haue profest me thy Friend,
and I confesse me knit to thy deseruing, with Cables of
perdurable toughnesse. I could neuer better steed thee
then now. Put Money in thy purse: follow thou the
Warres, defeate thy fauour, with an vsurp'd Beard. I say
put Money in thy purse. It cannot be long that Desdemona
should continue her loue to the Moore. Put Money in
thy purse: nor he his to her. It was a violent Commencement
in her, and thou shalt see an answerable Sequestration,
put but Money in thy purse. These Moores
are changeable in their wils: fill thy purse with Money.
The Food that to him now is as lushious as Locusts,
shalbe to him shortly, as bitter as Coloquintida. She
must change for youth: when she is sated with his body
she will find the errors of her choice. Therefore, put Money
in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damne thy selfe, do
it a more delicate way then drowning. Make all the Money
thou canst: If Sanctimonie, and a fraile vow, betwixt
an erring Barbarian, and super-subtle Venetian be
not too hard for my wits, and all the Tribe of hell, thou
shalt enioy her: therefore make Money: a pox of drowning
thy selfe, it is cleane out of the way. Seeke thou rather
to be hang'd in Compassing thy ioy, then to be
drown'd, and go without her
   Rodo. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
  Iago. Thou art sure of me: Go make Money: I haue
told thee often, and I re-tell thee againe, and againe, I
hate the Moore. My cause is hearted; thine hath no lesse
reason. Let vs be coniunctiue in our reuenge, against
him. If thou canst Cuckold him, thou dost thy selfe a
pleasure, me a sport. There are many Euents in the
Wombe of Time, which wilbe deliuered. Trauerse, go,
prouide thy Money. We will haue more of this to morrow.
   Rod. Where shall we meete i'th' morning?
  Iago. At my Lodging
   Rod. Ile be with thee betimes
   Iago. Go too, farewell. Do you heare Rodorigo?
  Rod. Ile sell all my Land.
  Iago. Thus do I euer make my Foole, my purse:
For I mine owne gain'd knowledge should prophane
If I would time expend with such Snipe,
But for my Sport, and Profit: I hate the Moore,
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
She ha's done my Office. I know not if't be true,
But I, for meere suspition in that kinde,
Will do, as if for Surety. He holds me well,
The better shall my purpose worke on him:
Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now,
To get his Place, and to plume vp my will
In double Knauery. How? How? Let's see.
After some time, to abuse Othello's eares,
That he is too familiar with his wife:
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose
To be suspected: fram'd to make women false.
The Moore is of a free, and open Nature,
That thinkes men honest, that but seeme to be so,
And will as tenderly be lead by'th' Nose
As Asses are:
I hau't: it is engendred: Hell, and Night,
Must bring this monstrous Birth, to the worlds light.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Montano, and two Gentlemen.
  Mon. What from the Cape, can you discerne at Sea?
  1.Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought Flood:
I cannot 'twixt the Heauen, and the Maine,
Descry a Saile
   Mon. Me thinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at Land,
A fuller blast ne're shooke our Battlements:
If it hath ruffiand so vpon the Sea,
What ribbes of Oake, when Mountaines melt on them,
Can hold the Morties. What shall we heare of this?
  2 A Segregation of the Turkish Fleet:
For do but stand vpon the Foaming Shore,
The chidden Billow seemes to pelt the Clowds,
The winde-shak'd-Surge, with high & monstrous Maine
Seemes to cast water on the burning Beare,
And quench the Guards of th' euer-fixed Pole:
I neuer did like mollestation view
On the enchafed Flood
   Men. If that the Turkish Fleete
Be not enshelter'd, and embay'd, they are drown'd,
It is impossible to beare it out.
Enter a Gentleman.
  3 Newes Laddes: our warres are done:
The desperate Tempest hath so bang'd the Turkes,
That their designement halts. A Noble ship of Venice,
Hath seene a greeuous wracke and sufferance
On most part of their Fleet
   Mon. How? Is this true?
  3 The Ship is heere put in: A Verennessa, Michael Cassio
Lieutenant to the warlike Moore, Othello,
Is come on Shore: the Moore himselfe at Sea,
And is in full Commission heere for Cyprus
   Mon. I am glad on't:
'Tis a worthy Gouernour
   3 But this same Cassio, though he speake of comfort,
Touching the Turkish losse, yet he lookes sadly,
And praye the Moore be safe; for they were parted
With fowle and violent Tempest
   Mon. Pray Heauens he be:
For I haue seru'd him, and the man commands
Like a full Soldier. Let's to the Sea-side (hoa)
As well to see the Vessell that's come in,
As to throw-out our eyes for braue Othello,
Euen till we make the Maine, and th' Eriall blew,
An indistinct regard
   Gent. Come, let's do so;
For euery Minute is expectancie
Of more Arriuancie.
Enter Cassio.
  Cassi. Thankes you, the valiant of the warlike Isle,
That so approoue the Moore: Oh let the Heauens
Giue him defence against the Elements,
For I haue lost him on a dangerous Sea
   Mon. Is he well ship'd?
  Cassio. His Barke is stoutly Timber'd, and his Pylot
Of verie expert, and approu'd Allowance;
Therefore my hope's (not surfetted to death)
Stand in bold Cure
   Within. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile
   Cassio. What noise?
  Gent. The Towne is empty; on the brow o'th' Sea
Stand rankes of People and they cry, a Saile
   Cassio. My hopes do shape him for the Gouernor
   Gent. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesie,
Our Friends, at least
   Cassio. I pray you Sir, go forth,
And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd
   Gent. I shall.
  Mon. But good Lieutenant, is your Generall wiu'd?
  Cassio. Most fortunately: he hath atchieu'd a Maid
That paragons description, and wilde Fame:
One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens,
And in th' essentiall Vesture of Creation,
Do's tyre the Ingeniuer.
Enter Gentleman.
How now? Who ha's put in?
  Gent. 'Tis one Iago, Auncient to the Generall
   Cassio. Ha's had most fauourable, and happie speed:
Tempests themselues, high Seas, and howling windes,
The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands,
Traitors ensteep'd, to enclogge the guiltlesse Keele,
As hauing sence of Beautie, do omit
Their mortall Natures, letting go safely by
The Diuine Desdemona
   Mon. What is she?
  Cassio. She that I spake of:
Our great Captains Captaine,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
Whose footing heere anticipates our thoughts,
A Senights speed. Great Ioue, Othello guard,
And swell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath,
That he may blesse this Bay with his tall Ship,
Make loues quicke pants in Desdemonaes Armes,
Giue renew'd fire to our extincted Spirits.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, Rodorigo, and Aemilia.
The Riches of the Ship is come on shore:
You men of Cyprus, let her haue your knees.
Haile to thee Ladie: and the grace of Heauen,
Before, behinde thee, and on euery hand
Enwheele thee round
   Des. I thanke you, Valiant Cassio,
What tydings can you tell of my Lord?
  Cas. He is not yet arriu'd, nor know I ought
But that he's well, and will be shortly heere
   Des. Oh, but I feare:
How lost you company?
  Cassio. The great Contention of Sea, and Skies
Parted our fellowship. But hearke, a Saile
   Within. A Saile, a Saile
   Gent. They giue this greeting to the Cittadell:
This likewise is a Friend
   Cassio. See for the Newes:
Good Ancient, you are welcome. Welcome Mistris:
Let it not gaule your patience (good Iago)
That I extend my Manners. 'Tis my breeding,
That giues me this bold shew of Curtesie
   Iago. Sir, would she giue you so much of her lippes,
As of her tongue she oft bestowes on me,
You would haue enough
   Des. Alas: she ha's no speech
   Iago. Infaith too much:
I finde it still, when I haue leaue to sleepe.
Marry before your Ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking
   aemil. You haue little cause to say so
   Iago. Come on, come on: you are Pictures out of
doore: Bells in your Parlours: Wilde-Cats in your Kitchens:
Saints in your Iniuries: Diuels being offended:
Players in your Huswiferie, and Huswiues in your
   Des. Oh, fie vpon thee, Slanderer
   Iago. Nay, it is true: or else I am a Turke,
You rise to play, and go to bed to worke.
Aemil. You shall not write my praise
   Iago. No, let me not
   Desde. What would'st write of me, if thou should'st
  Iago. Oh, gentle Lady, do not put me too't,
For I am nothing, if not Criticall
   Des. Come on, assay.
There's one gone to the Harbour?
  Iago. I Madam
   Des. I am not merry: but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
Come, how would'st thou praise me?
  Iago. I am about it, but indeed my inuention comes
from my pate, as Birdlyme do's from Freeze, it pluckes
out Braines and all. But my Muse labours, and thus she
is deliuer'd.
If she be faire, and wise: fairenesse, and wit,
The ones for vse, the other vseth it
   Des. Well prais'd:
How if she be Blacke and Witty?
  Iago. If she be blacke, and thereto haue a wit,
She'le find a white, that shall her blacknesse fit
   Des. Worse, and worse.
Aemil. How if Faire, and Foolish?
  Iago. She neuer yet was foolish that was faire,
For euen her folly helpt her to an heire
   Desde. These are old fond Paradoxes, to make Fooles
laugh i'th' Alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou
for her that's Foule, and Foolish
   Iago. There's none so foule and foolish thereunto,
But do's foule pranks, which faire, and wise-ones do
   Desde. Oh heauy ignorance: thou praisest the worst
best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deseruing
woman indeed? One, that in the authorithy of her
merit, did iustly put on the vouch of very malice it
   Iago. She that was euer faire, and neuer proud,
Had Tongue at will, and yet was neuer loud:
Neuer lackt Gold, and yet went neuer gay,
Fled from her wish, and yet said now I may.
She that being angred, her reuenge being nie,
Bad her wrong stay, and her displeasure flie:
She that in wisedome neuer was so fraile,
To change the Cods-head for the Salmons taile:
She that could thinke, and neu'r disclose her mind,
See Suitors following, and not looke behind:
She was a wight, (if euer such wightes were)
  Des. To do what?
  Iago. To suckle Fooles, and chronicle small Beere
   Desde. Oh most lame and impotent conclusion. Do
not learne of him aemillia, though he be thy husband.
How say you (Cassio) is he not a most prophane, and liberall
  Cassio. He speakes home (Madam) you may rellish
him more in the Souldier, then in the Scholler
   Iago. He takes her by the palme: I, well said, whisper.
With as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great
a Fly as Cassio. I smile vpon her, do: I will giue thee
in thine owne Courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed.
If such tricks as these strip you out of your Lieutenantrie,
it had beene better you had not kiss'd your three fingers
so oft, which now againe you are most apt to play
the Sir, in. Very good: well kiss'd, and excellent Curtsie:
'tis so indeed. Yet againe, your fingers to your
lippes? Would they were Cluster-pipes for your
The Moore I know his Trumpet
   Cassio. 'Tis truely so
   Des. Let's meete him, and recieue him
   Cassio. Loe, where he comes.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
  Oth. O, my faire Warriour
   Des. My deere Othello
   Othe. It giues me wonder great, as my content
To see you heere before me.
Oh my Soules Ioy:
If after euery Tempest, come such Calmes,
May the windes blow, till they haue waken'd death:
And let the labouring Barke climbe hills of Seas
Olympus high: and duck againe as low,
As hell's from Heauen. If it were now to dye,
'Twere now to be most happy. For I feare,
My Soule hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this,
Succeedes in vnknowne Fate
   Des. The Heauens forbid
But that our Loues
And Comforts should encrease
Euen as our dayes do grow
   Othe. Amen to that (sweet Powers)
I cannot speake enough of this content,
It stoppes me heere: it is too much of ioy.
And this, and this the greatest discords be
That ere our hearts shall make
   Iago. Oh you are well tun'd now: But Ile set downe
the peggs that make this Musicke, as honest as I am
   Othe. Come: let vs to the Castle.
Newes (Friends) our Warres are done:
The Turkes are drown'd.
How do's my old Acquaintance of this Isle?
(Hony) you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus,
I haue found great loue among'st them. Oh my Sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I doate
In mine owne comforts. I prythee, good Iago,
Go to the Bay, and disimbarke my Coffers:
Bring thou the Master to the Cittadell,
He is a good one, and his worthynesse
Do's challenge much respect. Come Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus.
Exit Othello and Desdemona.
  Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the Harbour.
Come thither, if thou be'st Valiant, (as they say base men
being in Loue, haue then a Nobilitie in their Natures,
more then is natiue to them) list-me; the Lieutenant to
night watches on the Court of Guard. First, I must tell
thee this: Desdemona, is directly in loue with him
   Rod. With him? Why, 'tis not possible
   Iago. Lay thy finger thus: and let thy soule be instructed.
Marke me with what violence she first lou'd
the Moore, but for bragging, and telling her fantasticall
lies. To loue him still for prating, let not thy discreet
heart thinke it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight
shall she haue to looke on the diuell? When the Blood
is made dull with the Act of Sport, there should be a
game to enflame it, and to giue Satiety a fresh appetite.
Louelinesse in fauour, simpathy in yeares, Manners,
and Beauties: all which the Moore is defectiue in. Now
for want of these requir'd Conueniences, her delicate
tendernesse wil finde it selfe abus'd, begin to heaue the,
gorge, disrellish and abhorre the Moore, very Nature wil
instruct her in it, and compell her to some second choice.
Now Sir, this granted (as it is a most pregnant and vnforc'd
position) who stands so eminent in the degree of
this Fortune, as Cassio do's: a knaue very voluble: no
further conscionable, then in putting on the meere forme
of Ciuill, and Humaine seeming, for the better compasse
of his salt, and most hidden loose Affection? Why none,
why none: A slipper, and subtle knaue, a finder of occasion:
that he's an eye can stampe, and counterfeit Aduantages,
though true Aduantage neuer present it selfe.
A diuelish knaue: besides, the knaue is handsome, young:
and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and greene
mindes looke after. A pestilent compleat knaue, and the
woman hath found him already
   Rodo. I cannot beleeue that in her, she's full of most
bless'd condition
   Iago. Bless'd figges-end. The Wine she drinkes is
made of grapes. If shee had beene bless'd, shee would
neuer haue lou'd the Moore: Bless'd pudding. Didst thou
not see her paddle with the palme of his hand? Didst not
  Rod. Yes, that I did: but that was but curtesie
   Iago . Leacherie by this hand: an Index, and obscure
prologue to the History of Lust and foule Thoughts.
They met so neere with their lippes, that their breathes
embrac'd together. Villanous thoughts Rodorigo, when
these mutabilities so marshall the way, hard at hand
comes the Master, and maine exercise, th' incorporate
conclusion: Pish. But Sir, be you rul'd by me. I haue
brought you from Venice. Watch you to night: for
the Command, Ile lay't vpon you. Cassio knowes you
not: Ile not be farre from you. Do you finde some occasion
to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or
tainting his discipline, or from what other course
you please, which the time shall more fauorably minister
   Rod. Well
   Iago. Sir, he's rash, and very sodaine in Choller: and
happely may strike at you, prouoke him that he may: for
euen out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to Mutiny.
Whose qualification shall come into no true taste againe,
but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you
haue a shorter iourney to your desires, by the meanes I
shall then haue to preferre them. And the impediment
most profitably remoued, without the which there were
no expectation of our prosperitie
   Rodo. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity
   Iago. I warrant thee. Meete me by and by at the
Cittadell. I must fetch his Necessaries a Shore. Farewell
   Rodo. Adieu.
  Iago. That Cassio loues her, I do well beleeu't:
That she loues him, 'tis apt, and of great Credite.
The Moore (howbeit that I endure him not)
Is of a constant, louing, Noble Nature,
And I dare thinke, he'le proue to Desdemona
A most deere husband. Now I do loue her too,
Not out of absolute Lust, (though peraduenture
I stand accomptant for as great a sin)
But partely led to dyet my Reuenge,
For that I do suspect the lustie Moore
Hath leap'd into my Seate. The thought whereof,
Doth (like a poysonous Minerall) gnaw my Inwardes:
And nothing can, or shall content my Soule
Till I am eeuen'd with him, wife, for wife.
Or fayling so, yet that I put the Moore,
At least into a Ielouzie so strong
That iudgement cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poore Trash of Venice, whom I trace
For his quicke hunting, stand the putting on,
Ile haue our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moore, in the right garbe
(For I feare Cassio with my Night-Cape too)
Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me,
For making him egregiously an Asse,
And practising vpon his peace, and quiet,
Euen to madnesse. 'Tis heere: but yet confus'd,
Knaueries plaine face, is neuer seene, till vs'd.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Othello's Herald with a Proclamation.
  Herald. It is Othello's pleasure, our Noble and Valiant
Generall. That vpon certaine tydings now arriu'd,
importing the meere perdition of the Turkish Fleete:
euery man put himselfe into Triumph. Some to daunce,
some to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and
Reuels his addition leads him. For besides these beneficiall
Newes, it is the Celebration of his Nuptiall. So
much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices
are open, & there is full libertie of Feasting from this
present houre of fiue, till the Bell haue told eleuen.
Blesse the Isle of Cyprus, and our Noble Generall Othello.
Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
  Othe. Good Michael, looke you to the guard to night.
Let's teach our selues that Honourable stop,
Not to out-sport discretion
   Cas. Iago, hath direction what to do.
But notwithstanding with my personall eye
Will I looke to't
   Othe. Iago, is most honest:
Michael, goodnight. To morrow with your earliest,
Let me haue speech with you. Come my deere Loue,
The purchase made, the fruites are to ensue,
That profit's yet to come 'tweene me, and you.
  Cas. Welcome Iago: we must to the Watch
   Iago. Not this houre Lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten
o'th' clocke. Our Generall cast vs thus earely for the
loue of his Desdemona: Who, let vs not therefore blame;
he hath not yet made wanton the night with her: and
she is sport for Ioue
   Cas. She's a most exquisite Lady
   Iago. And Ile warrant her, full of Game
   Cas. Indeed shes a most fresh and delicate creature
   Iago. What an eye she ha's?
Me thinkes it sounds a parley to prouocation
   Cas. An inuiting eye:
And yet me thinkes right modest
   Iago. And when she speakes,
Is it not an Alarum to Loue?
  Cas. She is indeed perfection
   Iago. Well: happinesse to their Sheetes. Come Lieutenant,
I haue a stope of Wine, and heere without are a
brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would faine haue a measure
to the health of blacke Othello
   Cas. Not to night, good Iago, I haue very poore,
and vnhappie Braines for drinking. I could well wish
Curtesie would inuent some other Custome of entertainment
   Iago. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile
drinke for you
   Cassio. I haue drunke but one Cup to night, and that
was craftily qualified too: and behold what inouation
it makes heere. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and
dare not taske my weakenesse with any more
   Iago. What man? 'Tis a night of Reuels, the Gallants
   Cas. Where are they?
  Iago. Heere, at the doore: I pray you call them in
   Cas. Ile do't, but it dislikes me.
  Iago. If I can fasten but one Cup vpon him
With that which he hath drunke to night alreadie,
He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offence
As my yong Mistris dogge.
Now my sicke Foole Rodorigo,
Whom Loue hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
To Desdemona hath to night Carrows'd.
Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch.
Three else of Cyprus, Noble swelling Spirites,
(That hold their Honours in a wary distance,
The very Elements of this Warrelike Isle)
Haue I to night fluster'd with flowing Cups,
And they Watch too.
Now 'mongst this Flocke of drunkards
Am I put to our Cassio in some Action
That may offend the Isle. But here they come.
Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen.
If Consequence do but approue my dreame,
My Boate sailes freely, both with winde and Streame
   Cas. 'Fore heauen, they haue giuen me a rowse already
   Mon. Good-faith a litle one: not past a pint, as I am a
   Iago. Some Wine hoa.
And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke:
And let me the Cannakin clinke.
A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a span,
Why then let a Souldier drinke.
Some Wine Boyes
   Cas. 'Fore Heauen: an excellent Song
   Iago. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are
most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine,
and your swag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are
nothing to your English
   Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking?
  Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane
dead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine.
He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next
Pottle can be fill'd
   Cas. To the health of our Generall
   Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice
   Iago. Oh sweet England.
King Stephen was anda worthy Peere,
His Breeches cost him but a Crowne,
He held them Six pence all to deere,
With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne:
He was a wight of high Renowne,
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe,
And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.
Some Wine hoa
   Cassio. Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other
   Iago. Will you heare't againe?
  Cas. No: for I hold him to be vnworthy of his Place,
that do's those things. Well: heau'ns aboue all: and
there be soules must be saued, and there be soules must
not be saued
   Iago. It's true, good Lieutenant
   Cas. For mine owne part, no offence to the Generall,
nor any man of qualitie: I hope to be saued
   Iago. And so do I too Lieutenant
   Cassio. I: (but by your leaue) not before me. The
Lieutenant is to be saued before the Ancient. Let's haue
no more of this: let's to our Affaires. Forgiue vs our
sinnes: Gentlemen let's looke to our businesse. Do not
thinke Gentlemen, I am drunke: this is my Ancient, this
is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunke
now: I can stand well enough, and I speake well enough
   Gent. Excellent well
   Cas. Why very well then: you must not thinke then,
that I am drunke.
  Monta. To th' Platforme (Masters) come, let's set the
   Iago. You see this Fellow, that is gone before,
He's a Souldier, fit to stand by Caesar,
And giue direction. And do but see his vice,
'Tis to his vertue, a iust Equinox,
The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pittie of him:
I feare the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odde time of his infirmitie
Will shake this Island
   Mont. But is he often thus?
  Iago. 'Tis euermore his prologue to his sleepe,
He'le watch the Horologe a double Set,
If Drinke rocke not his Cradle
   Mont. It were well
The Generall were put in mind of it:
Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature
Prizes the vertue that appeares in Cassio,
And lookes not on his euills: is not this true?
Enter Rodorigo.
  Iago. How now Rodorigo?
I pray you after the Lieutenant, go
   Mon. And 'tis great pitty, that the Noble Moore
Should hazard such a Place, as his owne Second
With one of an ingraft Infirmitie,
It were an honest Action, to say so
To the Moore
   Iago. Not I, for this faire Island,
I do loue Cassio well: and would do much
To cure him of this euill, But hearke, what noise?
Enter Cassio pursuing Rodorigo.
  Cas. You Rogue: you Rascall
   Mon. What's the matter Lieutenant?
  Cas. A Knaue teach me my dutie? Ile beate the
Knaue in to a Twiggen-Bottle
   Rod. Beate me?
  Cas. Dost thou prate, Rogue?
  Mon. Nay, good Lieutenant:
I pray you Sir, hold your hand
   Cassio. Let me go (Sir)
Or Ile knocke you o're the Mazard
   Mon. Come, come: you're drunke
   Cassio. Drunke?
  Iago. Away I say: go out and cry a Mutinie.
Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen:
Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano:
Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed.
Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa:
The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant,
You'le be asham'd for euer.
Enter Othello, and Attendants.
  Othe. What is the matter heere?
  Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to th' death. He dies
   Othe. Hold for your liues
   Iag. Hold hoa: Lieutenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen:
Haue you forgot all place of sense and dutie?
Hold. The Generall speaks to you: hold for shame
   Oth. Why how now hoa? From whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turkes? and to our selues do that
Which Heauen hath forbid the Ottamittes.
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous Brawle:
He that stirs next, to carue for his owne rage,
Holds his soule light: He dies vpon his Motion.
Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Isle,
From her propriety. What is the matter, Masters?
Honest Iago, that lookes dead with greeuing,
Speake: who began this? On thy loue I charge thee?
  Iago. I do not know: Friends all, but now, euen now.
In Quarter, and in termes like Bride, and Groome
Deuesting them for Bed: and then, but now:
(As if some Planet had vnwitted men)
Swords out, and tilting one at others breastes,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speake
Any begining to this peeuish oddes.
And would, in Action glorious, I had lost
Those legges, that brought me to a part of it
   Othe. How comes it (Michaell) you are thus forgot?
  Cas. I pray you pardon me, I cannot speake
   Othe. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be ciuill:
The grauitie, and stillnesse of your youth
The world hath noted. And your name is great
In mouthes of wisest Censure. What's the matter
That you vnlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night-brawler? Giue me answer to it
   Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,
Your Officer Iago, can informe you,
While I spare speech which something now offends me.
Of all that I do know, nor know I ought
By me, that's said, or done amisse this night,
Vnlesse selfe-charitie be sometimes a vice,
And to defend our selues, it be a sinne
When violence assailes vs
   Othe. Now by Heauen,
My blood begins my safer Guides to rule,
And passion (hauing my best iudgement collied)
Assaies to leade the way. If I once stir,
Or do but lift this Arme, the best of you
Shall sinke in my rebuke. Giue me to know
How this foule Rout began: Who set it on,
And he that is approu'd in this offence,
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall loose me. What in a Towne of warre,
Yet wilde, the peoples hearts brim-full of feare,
To Manage priuate, and domesticke Quarrell?
In night, and on the Court and Guard of safetie?
'Tis monstrous: Iago, who began't?
  Mon. If partially Affin'd, or league in office,
Thou dost deliuer more, or lesse then Truth,
Thou art no Souldier
   Iago. Touch me not so neere,
I had rather haue this tongue cut from my mouth,
Then it should do offence to Michaell Cassio.
Yet I perswade my selfe, to speake the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall:
Montano and my selfe being in speech,
There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe,
And Cassio following him with determin'd Sword
To execute vpon him. Sir, this Gentleman,
Steppes in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
My selfe, the crying Fellow did pursue,
Least by his clamour (as it so fell out)
The Towne might fall in fright. He, (swift of foote)
Out-ran my purpose: and I return'd then rather
For that I heard the clinke, and fall of Swords,
And Cassio high in oath: Which till to night
I nere might say before. When I came backe
(For this was briefe) I found them close together
At blow, and thrust, euen as againe they were
When you your selfe did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report,
But Men are Men: The best sometimes forget,
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet surely Cassio, I beleeue receiu'd
From him that fled, some strange Indignitie,
Which patience could not passe
   Othe. I know Iago
Thy honestie, and loue doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio: Cassio, I loue thee,
But neuer more be Officer of mine.
Enter Desdemona attended.
Looke if my gentle Loue be not rais'd vp:
Ile make thee an example
   Des. What is the matter (Deere?)
  Othe. All's well, Sweeting:
Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts,
My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off:
Iago, looke with care about the Towne,
And silence those whom this vil'd brawle distracted.
Come Desdemona, 'tis the Soldiers life,
To haue their Balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.
  Iago. What are you hurt Lieutenant?
  Cas. I, past all Surgery
   Iago. Marry Heauen forbid
   Cas. Reputation, Reputation, Reputation: Oh I haue
lost my Reputation. I haue lost the immortall part of
myselfe, and what remaines is bestiall. My Reputation,
Iago, my Reputation
   Iago. As I am an honest man I had thought you had
receiued some bodily wound; there is more sence in that
then in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and most false
imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deseruing.
You haue lost no Reputation at all, vnlesse you
repute your selfe such a looser. What man, there are
more wayes to recouer the Generall againe. You are
but now cast in his moode, (a punishment more in policie,
then in malice) euen so as one would beate his offencelesse
dogge, to affright an Imperious Lyon. Sue to
him againe, and he's yours
   Cas. I will rather sue to be despis'd, then to deceiue
so good a Commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so
indiscreet an Officer. Drunke? And speake Parrat? And
squabble? Swagger? Sweare? And discourse Fustian
with ones owne shadow? Oh thou invisible spirit of
Wine, if thou hast no name to be knowne by, let vs call
   Iago. What was he that you follow'd with your
Sword? What had he done to you?
  Cas. I know not
   Iago. Is't possible?
  Cas. I remember a masse of things, but nothing distinctly:
a Quarrell, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that
men should put an Enemie in their mouthes, to steale away
their Braines? that we should with ioy, pleasance,
reuell and applause, transforme our selues into Beasts
   Iago. Why? But you are now well enough: how
came you thus recouered?
  Cas. It hath pleas'd the diuell drunkennesse, to giue
place to the diuell wrath, one vnperfectnesse, shewes me
another to make me frankly despise my selfe
   Iago. Come, you are too seuere a Moraller. As the
Time, the Place, & the Condition of this Country stands
I could hartily wish this had not befalne: but since it is, as
it is, mend it for your owne good
   Cas. I will aske him for my Place againe, he shall tell
me, I am a drunkard: had I as many mouthes as Hydra,
such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible
man, by and by a Foole, and presently a Beast. Oh
strange! Euery inordinate cup is vnbless'd, and the Ingredient
   Iago. Come, come: good wine, is a good familiar
Creature, if it be well vs'd: exclaime no more against it.
And good Lieutenant, I thinke, you thinke I loue
   Cassio. I haue well approued it, Sir. I drunke?
  Iago. You, or any man liuing, may be drunke at a
time man. I tell you what you shall do: Our General's
Wife, is now the Generall. I may say so, in this respect,
for that he hath deuoted, and giuen vp himselfe to the
Contemplation, marke: and deuotement of her parts
and Graces. Confesse your selfe freely to her: Importune
her helpe to put you in your place againe. She is
of so free, so kinde, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
she holds it a vice in her goodnesse, not to do more
then she is requested. This broken ioynt betweene
you, and her husband, entreat her to splinter. And my
Fortunes against any lay worth naming, this cracke of
your Loue, shall grow stronger, then it was before
   Cassio. You aduise me well
   Iago. I protest in the sinceritie of Loue, and honest
   Cassio. I thinke it freely: and betimes in the morning,
I will beseech the vertuous Desdemona to vndertake
for me: I am desperate of my Fortunes if they check me
   Iago. You are in the right: good night Lieutenant, I
must to the Watch
   Cassio. Good night, honest Iago.
Exit Cassio.
  Iago. And what's he then,
That saies I play the Villaine?
When this aduise is free I giue, and honest,
Proball to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moore againe.
For 'tis most easie
Th' inclyning Desdemona to subdue
In any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefull
As the free Elements. And then for her
To win the Moore, were to renownce his Baptisme,
All Seales, and Simbols of redeemed sin:
His Soule is so enfetter'd to her Loue,
That she may make, vnmake, do what she list,
Euen as her Appetite shall play the God,
With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine,
To Counsell Cassio to this paralell course,
Directly to his good? Diuinitie of hell,
When diuels will the blackest sinnes put on,
They do suggest at first with heauenly shewes,
As I do now. For whiles this honest Foole
Plies Desdemona, to repaire his Fortune,
And she for him, pleades strongly to the Moore,
Ile powre this pestilence into his eare:
That she repeales him, for her bodies Lust,
And by how much she striues to do him good,
She shall vndo her Credite with the Moore.
So will I turne her vertue into pitch.
And out of her owne goodnesse make the Net,
That shall en-mash them all.
How now Rodorigo?
Enter Rodorigo.
  Rodorigo. I do follow heere in the Chace, not
like a Hound that hunts, but one that filles vp the
Crie. My Money is almost spent; I haue bin to night
exceedingly well Cudgell'd: And I thinke the issue
will bee, I shall haue so much experience for my paines;
And so, with no money at all, and a little more Wit, returne
againe to Venice
   Iago. How poore are they that haue not Patience?
What wound did euer heale but by degrees?
Thou know'st we worke by Wit, and not by Witchcraft
And Wit depends on dilatory time:
Dos't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou by that small hurt hath casheer'd Cassio:
Though other things grow faire against the Sun,
Yet Fruites that blossome first, will first be ripe:
Content thy selfe, a-while. Introth 'tis Morning;
Pleasure, and Action, make the houres seeme short.
Retire thee, go where thou art Billited:
Away, I say, thou shalt know more heereafter:
Nay get thee gone.
Exit Roderigo.
Two things are to be done:
My Wife must moue for Cassio to her Mistris:
Ile set her on my selfe, a while, to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him iumpe, when he may Cassio finde
Soliciting his wife: I, that's the way:
Dull not Deuice, by coldnesse, and delay.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Cassio, Musitians, and Clowne.
  Cassio. Masters, play heere, I wil content your paines,
Something that's briefe: and bid, goodmorrow General
   Clo. Why Masters, haue your Instruments bin in Naples,
that they speake i'th' Nose thus?
  Mus. How Sir? how?
  Clo. Are these I pray you, winde Instruments?
  Mus. I marry are they sir
   Clo. Oh, thereby hangs a tale
   Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir?
  Clow. Marry sir, by many a winde Instrument that I
know. But Masters, heere's money for you: and the Generall
so likes your Musick, that he desires you for loues
sake to make no more noise with it
   Mus. Well Sir, we will not
   Clo. If you haue any Musicke that may not be heard,
too't againe. But (as they say) to heare Musicke, the Generall
do's not greatly care
   Mus. We haue none such, sir
   Clow. Then put vp your Pipes in your bagge, for Ile
away. Go, vanish into ayre, away.
  Cassio. Dost thou heare me, mine honest Friend?
  Clo. No, I heare not your honest Friend:
   Cassio. Prythee keepe vp thy Quillets, ther's a poore
peece of Gold for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends
the Generall be stirring, tell her, there's one Cassio entreats
her a little fauour of Speech. Wilt thou do this?
  Clo. She is stirring sir: if she will stirre hither, I shall
seeme to notifie vnto her.
In happy time, Iago
   Iago. You haue not bin a-bed then?
  Cassio. Why no: the day had broke before we parted.
I haue made bold (Iago) to send in to your wife:
My suite to her is, that she will to vertuous Desdemona
Procure me some accesse
   Iago. Ile send her to you presently:
And Ile deuise a meane to draw the Moore
Out of the way, that your conuerse and businesse
May be more free.
  Cassio. I humbly thanke you for't. I neuer knew
A Florentine more kinde, and honest.
Enter aemilia.
Aemil. Goodmorrow (good Lieutenant) I am sorrie
For your displeasure: but all will sure be well.
The Generall and his wife are talking of it,
And she speakes for you stoutly. The Moore replies,
That he you hurt is of great Fame in Cyprus,
And great Affinitie: and that in wholsome Wisedome
He might not but refuse you. But he protests he loues you
And needs no other Suitor, but his likings
To bring you in againe
   Cassio. Yet I beseech you,
If you thinke fit, or that it may be done,
Giue me aduantage of some breefe Discourse
With Desdemon alone.
Aemil. Pray you come in:
I will bestow you where you shall haue time
To speake your bosome freely
   Cassio. I am much bound to you.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.
  Othe. These Letters giue (Iago) to the Pylot,
And by him do my duties to the Senate:
That done, I will be walking on the Workes,
Repaire there to mee
   Iago. Well, my good Lord, Ile doo't
   Oth. This Fortification (Gentlemen) shall we see't?
  Gent. Well waite vpon your Lordship.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and aemilia.
  Des. Be thou assur'd (good Cassio) I will do
All my abilities in thy behalfe.
Aemil. Good Madam do:
I warrant it greeues my Husband,
As if the cause were his
   Des. Oh that's an honest Fellow, Do not doubt Cassio
But I will haue my Lord, and you againe
As friendly as you were
   Cassio. Bounteous Madam,
What euer shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's neuer any thing but your true Seruant
   Des. I know't: I thanke you: you do loue my Lord:
You haue knowne him long, and be you well assur'd
He shall in strangenesse stand no farther off,
Then in a politique distance
   Cassio. I, but Lady,
That policie may either last so long,
Or feede vpon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breede it selfe so out of Circumstances,
That I being absent, and my place supply'd,
My Generall will forget my Loue, and Seruice
   Des. Do not doubt that: before aemilia here,
I giue thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe it
To the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest,
Ile watch him tame, and talke him out of patience;
His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a Shrift,
Ile intermingle euery thing he do's
With Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio,
For thy Solicitor shall rather dye,
Then giue thy cause away.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
Aemil. Madam, heere comes my Lord
   Cassio. Madam, Ile take my leaue
   Des. Why stay, and heare me speake
   Cassio. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
Vnfit for mine owne purposes
   Des. Well, do your discretion.
Exit Cassio.
  Iago. Hah? I like not that
   Othel. What dost thou say?
  Iago. Nothing my Lord; or if- I know not what
   Othel. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
  Iago. Cassio my Lord? No sure, I cannot thinke it
That he would steale away so guilty-like,
Seeing your comming
   Oth. I do beleeue 'twas he
   Des. How now my Lord?
I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere,
A man that languishes in your displeasure
   Oth. Who is't you meane?
  Des. Why your Lieutenant Cassio: Good my Lord,
If I haue any grace, or power to moue you,
His present reconciliation take.
For if he be not one, that truly loues you,
That erres in Ignorance, and not in Cunning,
I haue no iudgement in an honest face.
I prythee call him backe
   Oth. Went he hence now?
  Des. I sooth; so humbled,
That he hath left part of his greefe with mee
To suffer with him. Good Loue, call him backe
   Othel. Not now (sweet Desdemon) some other time
   Des. But shall't be shortly?
  Oth. The sooner (Sweet) for you
   Des. Shall't be to night, at Supper?
  Oth. No, not to night
   Des. To morrow Dinner then?
  Oth. I shall not dine at home:
I meete the Captaines at the Cittadell
   Des. Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morne,
On Tuesday noone, or night; on Wensday Morne.
I prythee name the time, but let it not
Exceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent:
And yet his Trespasse, in our common reason
(Saue that they say the warres must make example)
Out of her best, is not almost a fault
T' encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come?
Tell me Othello. I wonder in my Soule
What you would aske me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio,
That came a woing with you? and so many a time
(When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly)
Hath tane your part, to haue so much to do
To bring him in? Trust me, I could do much
   Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will:
I will deny thee nothing
   Des. Why, this is not a Boone:
'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues,
Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme,
Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit
To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite
Wherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed,
It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight,
And fearefull to be granted
   Oth. I will deny thee nothing.
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leaue me but a little to my selfe
   Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord
   Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait
   Des. aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you:
What ere you be, I am obedient.
  Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule
But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not,
Chaos is come againe
   Iago. My Noble Lord
   Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?
  Iago. Did Michael Cassio
When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?
  Oth. He did, from first to last:
Why dost thou aske?
  Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought,
No further harme
   Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?
  Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir
   Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft
   Iago. Indeed?
  Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?
Is he not honest?
  Iago. Honest, my Lord?
  Oth. Honest? I, Honest
   Iago. My Lord, for ought I know
   Oth. What do'st thou thinke?
  Iago. Thinke, my Lord?
  Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me;
As if there were some Monster in thy thought
Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing:
I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that,
When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile,
Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede?
And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy Braine
Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me,
Shew me thy thought
   Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you
   Oth. I thinke thou do'st:
And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath,
Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more:
For such things in a false disloyall Knaue
Are trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust,
They're close dilations, working from the heart,
That Passion cannot rule
   Iago. For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest
   Oth. I thinke so too
   Iago. Men should be what they seeme,
Or those that be not, would they might seeme none
   Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme
   Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man
   Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this?
I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words
   Iago. Good my Lord pardon me,
Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie,
I am not bound to that: All Slaues are free:
Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce?
As where's that Palace, whereinto foule things
Sometimes intrude not? Who ha's that breast so pure,
Wherein vncleanly Apprehensions
Keepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sit
With meditations lawfull?
  Oth. Thou do'st conspire against thy Friend (Iago)
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eare
A stranger to thy Thoughts
   Iago. I do beseech you,
Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse
(As I confesse it is my Natures plague
To spy into Abuses, and of my iealousie
Shapes faults that are not) that your wisedome
From one, that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a trouble
Out of his scattering, and vnsure obseruance:
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome,
To let you know my thoughts
   Oth. What dost thou meane?
  Iago. Good name in Man, & woman (deere my Lord)
Is the immediate Iewell of their Soules;
Who steales my purse, steales trash:
'Tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands:
But he that filches from me my good Name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poore indeed
   Oth. Ile know thy Thoughts
   Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,
Nor shall not, whil'st 'tis in my custodie
  Iago. Oh, beware my Lord, of iealousie,
It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mocke
The meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in blisse,
Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger:
But oh, what damned minutes tels he ore,
Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues?
  Oth. O miserie
   Iago. Poore, and Content, is rich, and rich enough,
But Riches finelesse, is as poore as Winter,
To him that euer feares he shall be poore:
Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defend
From Iealousie
   Oth. Why? why is this?
Think'st thou, I'ld make a Life of Iealousie;
To follow still the changes of the Moone
With fresh suspitions? No: to be once in doubt,
Is to be resolu'd: Exchange me for a Goat,
When I shall turne the businesse of my Soule
To such exufflicate, and blow'd Surmises,
Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me Iealious,
To say my wife is faire, feeds well, loues company,
Is free of Speech, Sings, Playes, and Dances:
Where Vertue is, these are more vertuous.
Nor from mine owne weake merites, will I draw
The smallest feare, or doubt of her reuolt,
For she had eyes, and chose me. No Iago,
Ile see before I doubt; when I doubt, proue;
And on the proofe, there is no more but this,
Away at once with Loue, or Iealousie
   Ia. I am glad of this: For now I shall haue reason
To shew the Loue and Duty that I beare you
With franker spirit. Therefore (as I am bound)
Receiue it from me. I speake not yet of proofe:
Looke to your wife, obserue her well with Cassio,
Weare your eyes, thus: not Iealious, nor Secure:
I would not haue your free, and Noble Nature,
Out of selfe-Bounty, be abus'd: Looke too't:
I know our Country disposition well:
In Venice, they do let Heauen see the prankes
They dare not shew their Husbands.
Their best Conscience,
Is not to leaue't vndone, but kept vnknowne
   Oth. Dost thou say so?
  Iago. She did deceiue her Father, marrying you,
And when she seem'd to shake, and feare your lookes,
She lou'd them most
   Oth. And so she did
   Iago. Why go too then:
Shee that so young could giue out such a Seeming
To seele her Fathers eyes vp, close as Oake,
He thought 'twas Witchcraft.
But I am much too blame:
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
For too much louing you
   Oth. I am bound to thee for euer
   Iago. I see this hath a little dash'd your Spirits:
  Oth. Not a iot, not a iot
   Iago. Trust me, I feare it has:
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from your Loue.
But I do see y'are moou'd:
I am to pray you, not to straine my speech
To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,
Then to Suspition
   Oth. I will not
   Iago. Should you do so (my Lord)
My speech should fall into such vilde successe,
Which my Thoughts aym'd not.
Cassio's my worthy Friend:
My Lord, I see y'are mou'd
   Oth. No, not much mou'd:
I do not thinke but Desdemona's honest
   Iago. Long liue she so;
And long liue you to thinke so
   Oth. And yet how Nature erring from it selfe
   Iago. I, there's the point:
As (to be bold with you)
Not to affect many proposed Matches
Of her owne Clime, Complexion, and Degree,
Whereto we see in all things, Nature tends:
Foh, one may smel in such, a will most ranke,
Foule disproportions, Thoughts vnnaturall.
But (pardon me) I do not in position
Distinctly speake of her, though I may feare
Her will, recoyling to her better iudgement,
May fal to match you with her Country formes,
And happily repent
   Oth. Farewell, farewell:
If more thou dost perceiue, let me know more:
Set on thy wife to obserue.
Leaue me Iago
   Iago. My Lord, I take my leaue
   Othel. Why did I marry?
This honest Creature (doubtlesse)
Sees, and knowes more, much more then he vnfolds
   Iago. My Lord, I would I might intreat your Honor
To scan this thing no farther: Leaue it to time,
Although 'tis fit that Cassio haue his Place;
For sure he filles it vp with great Ability;
Yet if you please, to him off a-while:
You shall by that perceiue him, and his meanes:
Note if your Lady straine his Entertainment
With any strong, or vehement importunitie,
Much will be seene in that: In the meane time,
Let me be thought too busie in my feares,
(As worthy cause I haue to feare I am)
And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor
   Oth. Feare not my gouernment
   Iago. I once more take my leaue.
  Oth. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit
Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard,
Though that her Iesses were my deere heart-strings,
I'ld whistle her off, and let her downe the winde
To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke,
And haue not those soft parts of Conuersation
That Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'd
Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much)
Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe
Must be to loath her. Oh Curse of Marriage!
That we can call these delicate Creatures ours,
And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad,
And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon,
Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue
For others vses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones,
Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the Base,
'Tis destiny vnshunnable, like death:
Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs,
When we do quicken. Looke where she comes:
Enter Desdemona and aemilia.
If she be false, Heauen mock'd it selfe:
Ile not beleeue't
   Des. How now, my deere Othello?
Your dinner, and the generous Islanders
By you inuited, do attend your presence
   Oth. I am too blame
   Des. Why do you speake so faintly?
Are you not well?
  Oth. I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere
   Des. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe.
Let me but binde it hard, within this houre
It will be well
   Oth. Your Napkin is too little:
Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you.
  Des. I am very sorry that you are not well.
Aemil. I am glad I haue found this Napkin:
This was her first remembrance from the Moore,
My wayward Husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steale it. But she so loues the Token,
(For he coniur'd her, she should euer keepe it)
That she reserues it euermore about her,
To kisse, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out,
And giu't Iago: what he will do with it
Heauen knowes, not I:
I nothing, but to please his Fantasie.
  Iago. How now? What do you heere alone?
Aemil. Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you
   Iago. You haue a thing for me?
It is a common thing-
  Iago. To haue a foolish wife.
Aemil. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now
For that same Handkerchiefe
   Iago. What Handkerchiefe?
Aemil. What Handkerchiefe?
Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona,
That which so often you did bid me steale
   Iago. Hast stolne it from her?
Aemil. No: but she let it drop by negligence,
And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp:
Looke, heere 'tis
   Iago. A good wench, giue it me.
Aemil. What will you do with't, that you haue bene
so earnest to haue me filch it?
  Iago. Why, what is that to you?
Aemil. If it be not for some purpose of import,
Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad
When she shall lacke it
   Iago. Be not acknowne on't:
I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.
I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin,
And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre,
Are to the iealious, confirmations strong,
As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something.
The Moore already changes with my poyson:
Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons,
Which at the first are scarse found to distaste:
But with a little acte vpon the blood,
Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so.
Enter Othello.
Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,
Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world
Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe
Which thou owd'st yesterday
   Oth. Ha, ha, false to mee?
  Iago. Why how now Generall? No more of that
   Oth. Auant, be gone: Thou hast set me on the Racke:
I sweare 'tis better to be much abus'd,
Then but to know't a little
   Iago. How now, my Lord?
  Oth. What sense had I, in her stolne houres of Lust?
I saw't not, thought it not: it harm'd not me:
I slept the next night well, fed well, was free, and merrie.
I found not Cassio's kisses on her Lippes:
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolne,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all
   Iago. I am sorry to heare this?
  Oth. I had beene happy, if the generall Campe,
Pyoners and all, had tasted her sweet Body,
So I had nothing knowne. Oh now, for euer
Farewell the Tranquill minde; farewell Content;
Farewell the plumed Troopes, and the bigge Warres,
That makes Ambition, Vertue! Oh farewell,
Farewell the neighing Steed, and the shrill Trumpe,
The Spirit-stirring Drum, th' Eare-piercing Fife,
The Royall Banner, and all Qualitie,
Pride, Pompe, and Circumstance of glorious Warre:
And O you mortall Engines, whose rude throates
Th' immortall Ioues dread Clamours, counterfet,
Farewell: Othello's Occupation's gone
   Iago. Is't possible my Lord?
  Oth. Villaine, be sure thou proue my Loue a Whore;
Be sure of it: Giue me the Occular proofe,
Or by the worth of mine eternall Soule,
Thou had'st bin better haue bin borne a Dog
Then answer my wak'd wrath
   Iago. Is't come to this?
  Oth. Make me to see't: or (at the least) so proue it,
That the probation beare no Hindge, nor Loope,
To hang a doubt on: Or woe vpon thy life
   Iago. My Noble Lord
   Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Neuer pray more: Abandon all remorse
On Horrors head, Horrors accumulate:
Do deeds to make Heauen weepe, all Earth amaz'd;
For nothing canst thou to damnation adde,
Greater then that
   Iago. O Grace! O Heauen forgiue me!
Are you a Man? Haue you a Soule? or Sense?
God buy you: take mine Office. Oh wretched Foole,
That lou'st to make thine Honesty, a Vice!
Oh monstrous world! Take note, take note (O World)
To be direct and honest, is not safe.
I thanke you for this profit, and from hence
Ile loue no Friend, sith Loue breeds such offence
   Oth. Nay stay: thou should'st be honest
   Iago. I should be wise; for Honestie's a Foole,
And looses that it workes for
   Oth. By the World,
I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not:
I thinke that thou art iust, and thinke thou art not:
Ile haue some proofe. My name that was as fresh
As Dians Visage, is now begrim'd and blacke
As mine owne face. If there be Cords, or Kniues,
Poyson, or Fire, or suffocating streames,
Ile not indure it. Would I were satisfied
   Iago. I see you are eaten vp with Passion:
I do repent me, that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
  Oth. Would? Nay, and I will
   Iago. And may: but how? How satisfied, my Lord?
Would you the super-vision grossely gape on?
Behold her top'd?
  Oth. Death, and damnation. Oh!
  Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I thinke,
To bring them to that Prospect: Damne them then,
If euer mortall eyes do see them boulster
More then their owne. What then? How then?
What shall I say? Where's Satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as Goates, as hot as Monkeyes,
As salt as Wolues in pride, and Fooles as grosse
As Ignorance, made drunke. But yet, I say,
If imputation, and strong circumstances,
Which leade directly to the doore of Truth,
Will giue you satisfaction, you might haue't
   Oth. Giue me a liuing reason she's disloyall
   Iago. I do not like the Office.
But sith I am entred in this cause so farre
(Prick'd too't by foolish Honesty, and Loue)
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,
And being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleepe. There are a kinde of men,
So loose of Soule, that in their sleepes will mutter
Their Affayres: one of this kinde is Cassio:
In sleepe I heard him say, sweet Desdemona,
Let vs be wary, let vs hide our Loues,
And then (Sir) would he gripe, and wring my hand:
Cry, oh sweet Creature: then kisse me hard,
As if he pluckt vp kisses by the rootes,
That grew vpon my lippes, laid his Leg ore my Thigh,
And sigh, and kisse, and then cry cursed Fate,
That gaue thee to the Moore
   Oth. O monstrous! monstrous!
  Iago. Nay, this was but his Dreame
   Oth. But this denoted a fore-gone conclusion,
'Tis a shrew'd doubt, though it be but a Dreame
   Iago. And this may helpe to thicken other proofes,
That do demonstrate thinly
   Oth. Ile teare her all to peeces
   Iago. Nay yet be wise; yet we see nothing done,
She may be honest yet: Tell me but this,
Haue you not sometimes seene a Handkerchiefe
Spotted with Strawberries, in your wiues hand?
  Oth. I gaue her such a one: 'twas my first gift
   Iago. I know not that: but such a Handkerchiefe
(I am sure it was your wiues) did I to day
See Cassio wipe his Beard with
   Oth. If it be that
   Iago. If it be that, or any, it was here.
It speakes against her with the other proofes
   Othel. O that the Slaue had forty thousand liues:
One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge.
Now do I see 'tis true. Looke heere Iago,
All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone.
Arise blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell,
Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne
To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosome with thy fraught,
For 'tis of Aspickes tongues
   Iago. Yet be content
   Oth. Oh blood, blood, blood
   Iago. Patience I say: your minde may change
   Oth. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea,
Whose Icie Current, and compulsiue course,
Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on
To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont:
Euen so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace
Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue,
Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge
Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen,
In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow,
I heere engage my words
   Iago. Do not rise yet:
Witnesse you euer-burning Lights aboue,
You Elements, that clip vs round about,
Witnesse that heere Iago doth giue vp
The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse,
What bloody businesse euer
   Oth. I greet thy loue,
Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will vpon the instant put thee too't.
Within these three dayes let me heare thee say,
That Cassio's not aliue
   Iago. My Friend is dead:
'Tis done at your Request.
But let her liue
   Oth. Damne her lewde Minx:
O damne her, damne her.
Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw
To furnish me with some swift meanes of death
For the faire Diuell.
Now art thou my Lieutenant
   Iago. I am your owne for euer.
Scaena Quarta.
Enter Desdemona, aemilia, and Clown.
  Des. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio
  Clow. I dare not say he lies any where
   Des. Why man?
  Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes,
'tis stabbing
   Des. Go too: where lodges he?
  Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where
   Des. Can any thing be made of this?
  Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise
a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were
to lye in mine owne throat
   Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report?
  Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make
Questions, and by them answer
   Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I
haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will
   Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit,
and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
  Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia?
Aemil. I know not Madam
   Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse
Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore
Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse,
As iealious Creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill-thinking.
Aemil. Is he not iealious?
  Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne,
Drew all such humors from him.
Aemil. Looke where he comes.
Enter Othello.
  Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be
Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord?
  Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?
  Des. Well, my good Lord
   Oth. Giue me your hand.
This hand is moist, my Lady
   Des. It hath felt no age, nor knowne no sorrow
   Oth. This argues fruitfulnesse, and liberall heart:
Hot, hot, and moyst. This hand of yours requires
A sequester from Liberty: Fasting, and Prayer,
Much Castigation, Exercise deuout,
For heere's a yong, and sweating Diuell heere
That commonly rebels: 'Tis a good hand,
A franke one
   Des. You may (indeed) say so:
For 'twas that hand that gaue away my heart
   Oth. A liberall hand. The hearts of old, gaue hands:
But our new Heraldry is hands, not hearts
   Des. I cannot speake of this:
Come, now your promise
   Oth. What promise, Chucke?
  Des. I haue sent to bid Cassio come speake with you
   Oth. I haue a salt and sorry Rhewme offends me:
Lend me thy Handkerchiefe
   Des. Heere my Lord
   Oth. That which I gaue you
   Des. I haue it not about me
   Oth. Not?
  Des. No indeed, my Lord
   Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe
Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue:
She was a Charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it,
'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father
Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it,
Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye
Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt
After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me,
And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd)
To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't,
Make it a Darling, like your precious eye:
To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match
   Des. Is't possible?
  Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it:
A Sybill that had numbred in the world
The Sun to course, two hundred compasses,
In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke:
The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke,
And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull
Conseru'd of Maidens hearts
   Des. Indeed? Is't true?
  Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well
   Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't?
  Oth. Ha? wherefore?
  Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash?
  Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way?
  Des. Blesse vs
   Oth. Say you?
  Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were?
  Des. I say it is not lost
   Oth. Fetcht, let me see't
   Des. Why so I can: but I will not now:
This is a tricke to put me from my suite,
Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe
   Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe,
My minde mis-giues
   Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient
   Oth. The Handkerchiefe
   Des. A man that all his time
Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue;
Shar'd dangers with you
   Oth. The Handkerchiefe
   Des. Insooth, you are too blame
   Oth. Away.
Exit Othello.
Aemil. Is not this man iealious?
  Des. I neu'r saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe,
I am most vnhappy in the losse of it.
Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man:
They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food,
They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full
They belch vs.
Enter Iago, and Cassio.
Looke you, Cassio and my Husband
   Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't:
And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her
   Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with
  Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you,
That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe
Exist, and be a member of his loue,
Whom I, with all the Office of my heart
Intirely honour, I would not be delayd.
If my offence, be of such mortall kinde,
That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,
Can ransome me into his loue againe,
But to know so, must be my benefit:
So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content,
And shut my selfe vp in some other course
To Fortunes Almes
   Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio)
My Aduocation is not now in Tune;
My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him,
Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd.
So helpe me euery spirit sanctified,
As I haue spoken for you all my best,
And stood within the blanke of his displeasure
For my free speech. You must awhile be patient:
What I can do, I will: and more I will
Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you
   Iago. Is my Lord angry?
Aemil. He went hence but now:
And certainly in strange vnquietnesse
   Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon
When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre,
And like the Diuell from his very Arme
Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry?
Something of moment then: I will go meet him,
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
  Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State,
Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise
Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him,
Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases,
Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things,
Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so.
For let our finger ake, and it endues
Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense
Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods,
Nor of them looke for such obseruancie
As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia,
I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am)
Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule:
But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse,
And he's Indited falsely.
Aemil. Pray heauen it bee
State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception,
Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you
   Des. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause.
Aemil. But Iealious soules will not be answer'd so;
They are not euer iealious for the cause,
But iealious, for they're iealious. It is a Monster
Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe
   Des. Heauen keepe the Monster from Othello's mind.
Aemil. Lady, Amen
   Des. I will go seeke him. Cassio, walke heere about:
If I doe finde him fit, Ile moue your suite,
And seeke to effect it to my vttermost.
  Cas. I humbly thanke your Ladyship.
Enter Bianca.
  Bian. 'Saue you (Friend Cassio.)
  Cassio. What make you from home?
How is't with you, my most faire Bianca?
Indeed (sweet Loue) I was comming to your house
   Bian. And I was going to your Lodging, Cassio.
What? keepe a weeke away? Seuen dayes, and Nights?
Eight score eight houres? And Louers absent howres
More tedious then the Diall, eight score times?
Oh weary reck'ning
   Cassio. Pardon me, Bianca:
I haue this while with leaden thoughts beene prest,
But I shall in a more continuate time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca
Take me this worke out
   Bianca. Oh Cassio, whence came this?
This is some Token from a newer Friend,
To the felt-Absence: now I feele a Cause:
Is't come to this? Well, well
   Cassio. Go too, woman:
Throw your vilde gesses in the Diuels teeth,
From whence you haue them. You are iealious now,
That this is from some Mistris, some remembrance;
No, in good troth Bianca
   Bian. Why, who's is it?
  Cassio. I know not neither:
I found it in my Chamber,
I like the worke well; Ere it be demanded
(As like enough it will) I would haue it coppied:
Take it, and doo't, and leaue me for this time
   Bian. Leaue you? Wherefore?
  Cassio. I do attend heere on the Generall,
And thinke it no addition, nor my wish
To haue him see me woman'd
   Bian. Why, I pray you?
  Cassio. Not that I loue you not
   Bian. But that you do not loue me.
I pray you bring me on the way a little,
And say, if I shall see you soone at night?
  Cassio. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you,
For I attend heere: But Ile see you soone
   Bian. 'Tis very good: I must be circumstanc'd.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Othello, and Iago.
  Iago. Will you thinke so?
  Oth. Thinke so, Iago?
  Iago. What, to kisse in priuate?
  Oth. An vnauthoriz'd kisse?
  Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed,
An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?
  Oth. Naked in bed (Iago) and not meane harme?
It is hypocrisie against the Diuell:
They that meane vertuously, and yet do so,
The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen
   Iago. If they do nothing, 'tis a Veniall slip:
But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe
   Oth. What then?
  Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers,
She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man
   Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too:
May she giue that?
  Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene,
They haue it very oft, that haue it not.
But for the Handkerchiefe
   Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it:
Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie,
As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house:
Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe
   Iago . I: what of that?
  Othe. That's not so good now
   Iag. What if I had said, I had seene him do you wrong?
Or heard him say (as Knaues be such abroad,
Who hauing by their owne importunate suit,
Or voluntary dotage of some Mistris,
Conuinced or supply'd them, cannot chuse
But they must blab.)
  Oth. Hath he said any thing?
  Iago. He hath (my Lord) but be you well assur'd,
No more then he'le vn-sweare
   Oth. What hath he said?
  Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did
   Othe. What? What?
   Oth. With her?
  Iago. With her? On her: what you will
   Othe. Lye with her? lye on her? We say lye on her,
when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome:
Handkerchiefe: Confessions: Handkerchiefe. To confesse,
and be hang'd for his labour. First, to be hang'd,
and then to confesse: I tremble at it. Nature would not
inuest her selfe in such shadowing passion, without some
Instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus, (pish)
Noses, Eares, and Lippes: is't possible. Confesse? Handkerchiefe?
Falls in a Traunce.
  Iago. Worke on,
My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught,
And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus,
(All guiltlesse) meete reproach: what hoa? My Lord?
My Lord, I say: Othello.
Enter Cassio.
How now Cassio?
  Cas. What's the matter?
  Iago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie,
This is his second Fit: he had one yesterday
   Cas. Rub him about the Temples
   Iago. The Lethargie must haue his quyet course:
If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by
Breakes out to sauage madnesse. Looke, he stirres:
Do you withdraw your selfe a little while,
He will recouer straight: when he is gone,
I would on great occasion, speake with you.
How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?
  Othe. Dost thou mocke me?
  Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen:
Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man
   Othe. A Horned man's a Monster, and a Beast
   Iago. Ther's many a Beast then in a populous Citty,
And many a ciuill Monster
   Othe. Did he confesse it?
  Iago. Good Sir, be a man:
Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd
May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue,
That nightly lye in those vnproper beds,
Which they dare sweare peculiar. Your case is better.
Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch;
And to suppose her chast. No, let me know,
And knowing what I am, I know what she shallbe
   Oth. Oh, thou art wise: 'tis certaine
   Iago. Stand you a while apart,
Confine your selfe but in a patient List,
Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe
(A passion most resulting such a man)
Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
And layd good scuses vpon your Extasie,
Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me,
The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe,
And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes
That dwell in euery Region of his face.
For I will make him tell the Tale anew;
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
He hath, and is againe to cope your wife.
I say, but marke his gesture: marry Patience,
Or I shall say y'are all in all in Spleene,
And nothing of a man
   Othe. Do'st thou heare, Iago,
I will be found most cunning in my Patience:
But (do'st thou heare) most bloody
   Iago. That's not amisse,
But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw?
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
A Huswife that by selling her desires
Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature
That dotes on Cassio, (as 'tis the Strumpets plague
To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one)
He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine
From the excesse of Laughter. Heere he comes.
Enter Cassio.
As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad:
And his vnbookish Ielousie must conserue
Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiours
Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?
  Cas. The worser, that you giue me the addition,
Whose want euen killes me
   Iago. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't:
Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre,
How quickely should you speed?
  Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe
   Oth. Looke how he laughes already
   Iago. I neuer knew woman loue man so
   Cas. Alas poore Rogue, I thinke indeed she loues me
   Oth. Now he denies it faintly: and laughes it out
   Iago. Do you heare Cassio?
  Oth. Now he importunes him
To tell it o're: go too, well said, well said
   Iago. She giues it out, that you shall marry her.
Do you intend it?
  Cas. Ha, ha, ha
   Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?
  Cas. I marry. What? A customer; prythee beare
Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it
So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha
   Oth. So, so, so, so: they laugh, that winnes
   Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her
   Cas. Prythee say true
   Iago. I am a very Villaine else
   Oth. Haue you scoar'd me? Well
   Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out:
She is perswaded I will marry her
Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise
   Oth. Iago becomes me: now he begins the story
   Cassio. She was heere euen now: she haunts me in euery
place. I was the other day talking on the Seabanke
with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the
Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck
   Oth. Crying oh deere Cassio, as it were: his iesture imports
   Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me:
So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha
   Oth. Now he tells how she pluckt him to my Chamber:
oh, I see that nose of yours, but not that dogge, I
shall throw it to
   Cassio. Well, I must leaue her companie
   Iago. Before me: looke where she comes.
Enter Bianca.
  Cas. 'Tis such another Fitchew: marry a perfum'd one?
What do you meane by this haunting of me?
  Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what
did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue
me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take
out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should
finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there.
This is some Minxes token, & I must take out the worke?
There, giue it your Hobbey-horse, wheresoeuer you had
it, Ile take out no worke on't
   Cassio. How now, my sweete Bianca?
How now? How now?
  Othe. By Heauen, that should be my Handkerchiefe
   Bian. If you'le come to supper to night you may, if
you will not come when you are next prepar'd for.
  Iago. After her: after her
   Cas. I must, shee'l rayle in the streets else
   Iago. Will you sup there?
  Cassio. Yes, I intend so
   Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very
faine speake with you
   Cas. Prythee come: will you?
  Iago. Go too; say no more
   Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago
   Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?
  Oth. Oh, Iago
   Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe?
  Oth. Was that mine?
  Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes
the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he
hath giu'n it his whore
   Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing:
A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?
  Iago. Nay, you must forget that
   Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to
night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to
stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world
hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours
side, and command him Taskes
   Iago. Nay, that's not your way
   Othe. Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate
with her Needle: an admirable Musitian. Oh she will
sing the Sauagenesse out of a Beare: of so high and plenteous
wit, and inuention?
  Iago. She's the worse for all this
   Othe. Oh, a thousand, a thousand times:
And then of so gentle a condition?
  Iago. I too gentle
   Othe. Nay that's certaine:
But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it
   Iago. If you are so fond ouer her iniquitie: giue her
pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere
   Oth. I will chop her into Messes: Cuckold me?
  Iago. Oh, 'tis foule in her
   Oth. With mine Officer?
  Iago. That's fouler
   Othe. Get me some poyson, Iago, this night. Ile not
expostulate with her: least her body and beautie vnprouide
my mind againe: this night Iago
   Iago. Do it not with poyson, strangle her in her bed,
Euen the bed she hath contaminated
   Oth. Good, good:
The Iustice of it pleases: very good
   Iago. And for Cassio, let me be his vndertaker:
You shall heare more by midnight.
Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
  Othe. Excellent good: What Trumpet is that same?
  Iago. I warrant something from Venice,
'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke.
See, your wife's with him
   Lodo. Saue you worthy Generall
   Othe. With all my heart Sir
   Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you
   Othe. I kisse the Instrument of their pleasures
   Des. And what's the newes, good cozen Lodouico
  Iago. I am very glad to see you Signior:
Welcome to Cyprus
   Lod. I thanke you: how do's Lieutenant Cassio?
  Iago. Liues Sir,
  Des. Cozen, there's falne betweene him, & my Lord,
An vnkind breach: but you shall make all well
   Othe. Are you sure of that?
  Des. My Lord?
  Othe. This faile you not to do, as you will-
  Lod. He did not call: he's busie in the paper,
Is there deuision 'twixt my Lord, and Cassio?
  Des. A most vnhappy one: I would do much
T' attone, them, for the loue I beare to Cassio
   Oth. Fire, and brimestone
   Des. My Lord
   Oth. Are you wise?
  Des. What is he angrie?
  Lod. May be the Letter mou'd him.
For as I thinke, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment
   Des. Trust me, I am glad on't
   Othe. Indeed?
  Des. My Lord?
  Othe. I am glad to see you mad
   Des. Why, sweete Othello?
  Othe. Diuell
   Des. I haue not deseru'd this
   Lod. My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice,
Though I should sweare I saw't. 'Tis very much,
Make her amends: she weepes
   Othe. Oh diuell, diuell:
If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares,
Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile:
Out of my sight
   Des. I will not stay to offend you
   Lod. Truely obedient Lady:
I do beseech your Lordship call her backe
   Othe. Mistris
   Des. My Lord
   Othe. What would you with her, Sir?
  Lod. Who I, my Lord?
  Othe. I, you did wish, that I would make her turne:
Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go on
And turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe.
And she's obedient: as you say obedient.
Very obedient: proceed you in your teares.
Concerning this Sir, (oh well-painted passion)
I am commanded home: get you away:
Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate,
And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt:
Cassio shall haue my Place. And Sir, to night
I do entreat, that we may sup together.
You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.
Goates, and Monkeys.
  Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature
Whom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue
The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance
Could neither graze, nor pierce?
  Iago. He is much chang'd
   Lod. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine?
  Iago. He's that he is: I may not breath my censure.
What he might be: if what he might, he is not,
I would to heauen he were
   Lod. What? Strike his wife?
  Iago. 'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knew
That stroke would proue the worst
   Lod. Is it his vse?
Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood,
And new create his fault?
  Iago. Alas, alas:
It is not honestie in me to speake
What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him,
And his owne courses will denote him so,
That I may saue my speech: do but go after
And marke how he continues
   Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Othello and aemilia.
  Othe. You haue seene nothing then?
Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect
   Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together
   Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard,
Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them
   Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper?
Aemil. Neuer my Lord
   Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way?
Aemil. Neuer
   Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing?
Aemil. Neuer my Lord
   Othe. That's strange.
Aemil. I durst (my Lord) to wager, she is honest:
Lay downe my Soule at stake: If you thinke other,
Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your bosome:
If any wretch haue put this in your head,
Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse,
For if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues
Is foule as Slander
   Othe. Bid her come hither: go.
Exit aemilia.
She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud
That cannot say as much. This is a subtile Whore:
A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets,
And yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't.
Enter Desdemona, and aemilia.
  Des. My Lord, what is your will?
  Othe. Pray you Chucke come hither
   Des. What is your pleasure?
  Oth. Let me see your eyes: looke in my face
   Des. What horrible Fancie's this?
  Othe. Some of your Function Mistris:
Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore:
Cough, or cry hem; if any body come:
Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.
  Des. Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import?
I vnderstand a Fury in your words
   Othe. Why? What art thou?
  Des. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife
   Othello. Come sweare it: damne thy selfe, least
being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues should
feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd: sweare
thou art honest
   Des. Heauen doth truely know it
   Othe. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell
   Des. To whom my Lord?
With whom? How am I false?
  Othe. Ah Desdemon, away, away, away
   Des. Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe?
Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord?
If happely you my Father do suspect,
An Instrument of this your calling backe,
Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him,
I haue lost him too
   Othe. Had it pleas'd Heauen,
To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd
All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head:
Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes.
Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes,
I should haue found in some place of my Soule
A drop of patience. But alas, to make me
The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne,
To point his slow, and mouing finger at.
Yet could I beare that too, well, very well:
But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart,
Where either I must liue, or beare no life,
The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes,
Or else dries vp: to be discarded thence,
Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades
To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there:
Patience, thou young and Rose-lip'd Cherubin,
I heere looke grim as hell
   Des. I hope my Noble Lord esteemes me honest
   Othe. Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles,
That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed:
Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so sweete,
That the Sense akes at thee,
Would thou had'st neuer bin borne
   Des. Alas, what ignorant sin haue I committed?
  Othe. Was this faire Paper? This most goodly Booke
Made to write Whore vpon? What commited,
Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner,
I should make very Forges of my cheekes,
That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie,
Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited?
Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks:
The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes,
Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth
And will not hear't. What commited?
  Des. By Heauen you do me wrong
   Othe. Are not you a Strumpet?
  Des. No, as I am a Christian.
If to preserue this vessell for my Lord,
From any other foule vnlawfull touch
Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none
   Othe. What, not a Whore?
  Des. No, as I shall be sau'd
   Othe. Is't possible?
  Des. Oh Heauen forgiue vs
   Othe. I cry you mercy then.
I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice,
That married with Othello. You Mistris,
Enter aemilia.
That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you.
We haue done our course: there's money for your paines:
I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile.
Aemil. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue?
How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady?
  Des. Faith, halfe a sleepe
   Aemi. Good Madam,
What's the matter with my Lord?
  Des. With who?
Aemil. Why, with my Lord, Madam?
  Des. Who is thy Lord?
Aemil. He that is yours, sweet Lady
   Des. I haue none: do not talke to me, aemilia,
I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none,
But what should go by water. Prythee to night,
Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember,
And call thy husband hither.
Aemil. Heere's a change indeed.
  Des. 'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete.
How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke
The small'st opinion on my least misvse?
Enter Iago, and aemilia.
  Iago. What is your pleasure Madam?
How is't with you?
  Des. I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes
Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes.
He might haue chid me so; for in good faith
I am a Child to chiding
   Iago. What is the matter Lady?
Aemil. Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her
That true hearts cannot beare it
   Des. Am I that name, Iago?
  Iago. What name, (faire Lady?)
  Des. Such as she said my Lord did say I was.
Aemil. He call'd her whore: a Begger in his drinke:
Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet
   Iago. Why did he so?
  Des. I do not know: I am sure I am none such
   Iago. Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day.
Aemil. Hath she forsooke so many Noble Matches?
Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends?
To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe?
  Des. It is my wretched Fortune
   Iago. Beshrew him for't:
How comes this Tricke vpon him?
  Des. Nay, Heauen doth know
   Aemi. I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine,
Some busie and insinuating Rogue,
Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office,
Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else
   Iago. Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible
   Des. If any such there be, Heauen pardon him.
Aemil. A halter pardon him:
And hell gnaw his bones.
Why should he call her Whore?
Who keepes her companie?
What Place? What Time?
What Forme? What liklyhood?
The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue,
Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow.
Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold,
And put in euery honest hand a whip
To lash the Rascalls naked through the world,
Euen from the East to th' West
   Iago. Speake within doore.
Aemil. Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was
That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without,
And made you to suspect me with the Moore
   Iago. You are a Foole: go too
   Des. Alas Iago,
What shall I do to win my Lord againe?
Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen,
I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele:
If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue,
Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed,
Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence
Delighted them: or any other Forme.
Or that I do not yet, and euer did,
And euer will, (though he do shake me off
To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely,
Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much,
And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life,
But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore,
It do's abhorre me now I speake the word,
To do the Act, that might the addition earne,
Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me
   Iago. I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour:
The businesse of the State do's him offence
   Des. If 'twere no other
   Iago. It is but so, I warrant,
Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper:
The Messengers of Venice staies the meate,
Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well.
Exeunt. Desdemona and aemilia.
Enter Rodorigo.
How now Rodorigo?
  Rod. I do not finde
That thou deal'st iustly with me
   Iago. What in the contrarie?
  Rodori. Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise
Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from
me all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage
of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor
am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I
haue foolishly suffred
   Iago. Will you heare me Rodorigo?
  Rodori. I haue heard too much: and your words and
Performances are no kin together
   Iago. You charge me most vniustly
   Rodo. With naught but truth: I haue wasted my
selfe out of my meanes. The Iewels you haue had from
me to deliuer Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a
Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd them,
and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine
respect, and acquaintance, but I finde none
   Iago. Well, go too: very well
   Rod. Very well, go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor
'tis not very well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to
finde my selfe fopt in it
   Iago. Very well
   Rodor. I tell you, 'tis not very well: I will make my
selfe knowne to Desdemona. If she will returne me my
Iewels, I will giue ouer my Suit, and repent my vnlawfull
solicitation. If not, assure your selfe, I will seeke
satisfaction of you
   Iago. You haue said now
   Rodo. I: and said nothing but what I protest intendment
   Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and
euen from this instant do build on thee a better opinion
then euer before: giue me thy hand Rodorigo.
Thou hast taken against me a most iust exception:
but yet I protest I haue dealt most directly in thy
   Rod. It hath not appeer'd
   Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeer'd: and
your suspition is not without wit and iudgement.
But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which
I haue greater reason to beleeue now then euer (I
meane purpose, Courage, and Valour) this night
shew it. If thou the next night following enioy not
Desdemona, take me from this world with Treacherie,
and deuise Engines for my life
   Rod. Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and compasse?
  Iago. Sir, there is especiall Commission come from
Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place
   Rod. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona
returne againe to Venice
   Iago. Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh
away with him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode
be lingred heere by some accident. Wherein
none can be so determinate, as the remouing of
   Rod. How do you meane remouing him?
  Iago. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's
place: knocking out his braines
   Rod. And that you would haue me to do
   Iago. I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a
right. He sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither
will I go to him. He knowes not yet of his Honourable
Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which
I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one)
you may take him at your pleasure. I will be neere
to second your Attempt, and he shall fall betweene
vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with
me: I will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that
you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It
is now high supper time: and the night growes to wast.
   Rod. I will heare further reason for this
   Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants.
  Lod. I do beseech you Sir, trouble your selfe no further
   Oth. Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walke
   Lodoui. Madam, good night: I humbly thanke your
   Des. Your Honour is most welcome
   Oth. Will you walke Sir? Oh Desdemona
   Des. My Lord
   Othello. Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd
forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't
  Des. I will my Lord
   Aem. How goes it now? He lookes gentler then he did
   Des. He saies he will returne incontinent,
And hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bid me to dismisse you
   Aemi. Dismisse me?
  Des. It was his bidding: therefore good aemilia,
Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.
Aemil. I, would you had neuer seene him
   Des. So would not I: my loue doth so approue him,
That euen his stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes,
(Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace and fauour
   Aemi. I haue laid those Sheetes you bad me on the bed
   Des. All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds?
If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me
In one of these same Sheetes.
Aemil. Come, come: you talke
   Des. My Mother had a Maid call'd Barbarie,
She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad,
And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough,
An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune,
And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night,
Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side
And sing it like poore Barbarie: prythee dispatch
   Aemi. Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne?
  Des. No, vn-pin me here,
This Lodouico is a proper man.
Aemil. A very handsome man
   Des. He speakes well.
Aemil. I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd
barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
   Des. The poore Soule sat singing, by a Sicamour tree.
Sing all a greene Willough:
Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee,
Sing Willough, Willough, Willough.
The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes
Sing Willough, &c.
Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones,
Sing Willough, &c. (Lay by these)
Willough, Willough. (Prythee high thee: he'le come anon)
Sing all a greene Willough must be my Garland.
Let no body blame him, his scorne I approue.
(Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks?
Aemil. It's the wind
   Des. I call'd my Loue false Loue: but what said he then?
Sing Willough, &c.
If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men.
So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch:
Doth that boade weeping?
Aemil. 'Tis neyther heere, nor there
   Des. I haue heard it said so. O these Men, these men!
Do'st thou in conscience thinke (tell me aemilia)
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such grosse kinde?
Aemil. There be some such, no question
   Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world?
Aemil. Why, would not you?
  Des. No, by this Heauenly light.
Aemil. Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light:
I might doo't as well i'th' darke
   Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for al the world?
Aemil. The world's a huge thing:
It is a great price, for a small vice
   Des. Introth, I thinke thou would'st not.
Aemil. Introth I thinke I should, and vndoo't when
I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a
ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes,
Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for
all the whole world: why, who would not make her husband
a Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture
Purgatory for't
   Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
For the whole world.
Aemil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world;
and hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in
your owne world, and you might quickly make it right
   Des. I do not thinke there is any such woman.
Aemil. Yes, a dozen: and as many to'th' vantage, as
would store the world they plaid for.
But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults
If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties,
And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps;
Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies,
Throwing restraint vpon vs: Or say they strike vs,
Or scant our former hauing in despight)
Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace,
Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know,
Their wiues haue sense like them: They see, and smell,
And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre,
As Husbands haue. What is it that they do,
When they change vs for others? Is it Sport?
I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it?
I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres?
It is so too. And haue not we Affections?
Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue?
Then let them vse vs well: else let them know,
The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so
   Des. Good night, good night:
Heauen me such vses send,
Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.
  Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke,
Straight will he come:
Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home:
Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow,
It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that,
And fixe most firme thy Resolution
   Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't
   Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand
   Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed,
And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons:
'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies
   Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense,
And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo,
He calles me to a restitution large
Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him,
As Guifts to Desdemona.
It must not be: If Cassio do remaine,
He hath a dayly beauty in his life,
That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore
May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill:
No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming.
Enter Cassio.
  Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest
   Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed,
But that my Coate is better then thou know'st:
I will make proofe of thine
   Rod. Oh, I am slaine
   Cassio. I am maym'd for euer:
Helpe hoa: Murther, murther.
Enter Othello.
  Oth. The voyce of Cassio. Iago keepes his word
   Rod. O Villaine that I am
   Oth. It is euen so
   Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon
   Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust,
That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong,
Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead,
And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come:
For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted.
Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted.
Exit Othello.
Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.
  Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage?
Murther, Murther
   Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull
   Cas. Oh helpe
   Lodo. Hearke
   Rod. Oh wretched Villaine
   Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night;
These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe
To come into the cry, without more helpe
   Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death.
  Lod. Hearke
   Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and
   Iago. Who's there?
Who's noyse is this that cries on murther?
  Lodo. We do not know
   Iago. Do not you heare a cry?
  Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me
   Iago. What's the matter?
  Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it
   Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow
   Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously?
  Cas. Iago? Oh I am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines:
Giue me some helpe
   Iago. O mee, Lieutenant!
What Villaines haue done this?
  Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout.
And cannot make away
   Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines:
What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe
   Rod. O helpe me there
   Cassio. That's one of them
   Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine!
  Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge!
  Iago. Kill men i'th' darke?
Where be these bloody Theeues?
How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther.
What may you be? Are you of good, or euill?
  Lod. As you shall proue vs, praise vs
   Iago. Signior Lodouico?
  Lod. He Sir
   Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villaines
   Gra. Cassio?
  Iago. How is't Brother?
  Cas. My Legge is cut in two
   Iago. Marry heauen forbid:
Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt.
Enter Bianca.
  Bian. What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd?
  Iago. Who is't that cry'd?
  Bian. Oh my deere Cassio,
My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio
   Iago. O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be, that haue thus mangled you?
   Gra. I am sorry to finde you thus;
I haue beene to seeke you
   Iago. Lend me a Garter. So: - Oh for a Chaire
To beare him easily hence
   Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio
   Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash
To be a party in this Iniurie.
Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no?
Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman
Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo
   Gra. What, of Venice?
  Iago. Euen he Sir: Did you know him?
  Gra. Know him? I
   Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon:
These bloody accidents must excuse my Manners,
That so neglected you
   Gra. I am glad to see you
   Iago. How do you Cassio? Oh, a Chaire, a Chaire
   Gra. Rodorigo?
  Iago. He, he, 'tis he:
Oh that's well said, the Chaire.
Some good man beare him carefully from hence,
Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris,
Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio)
Was my deere friend. What malice was between you
   Cas. None in the world: nor do I know the man?
  Iago. What? looke you pale? Oh beare him o'th' Ayre.
Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you pale, Mistris?
Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye?
Nay, if you stare, we shall heare more anon.
Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon her:
Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake
Though tongues were out of vse.
Aemil. Alas, what is the matter?
What is the matter, Husband?
  Iago. Cassio hath heere bin set on in the darke
By Rodorigo, and Fellowes that are scap'd:
He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead.
Aemil. Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio
   Iago. This is the fruits of whoring. Prythe aemilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supt to night.
What, do you shake at that?
  Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not
   Iago. O did he so? I charge you go with me.
Aemil. Oh fie vpon thee Strumpet
   Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest,
As you that thus abuse me.
Aemil. As I? Fie vpon thee
   Iago. Kinde Gentlemen:
Let's go see poore Cassio drest.
Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale.
aemilia, run you to the Cittadell,
And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happ'd:
Will you go on afore? This is the night
That either makes me, or foredoes me quight.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed.
  Oth. It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soule)
Let me not name it to you, you chaste Starres,
It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her blood,
Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow,
And smooth as Monumentall Alablaster:
Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men:
Put out the Light, and then put out the Light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister,
I can againe thy former light restore,
Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light,
Thou cunning'st Patterne of excelling Nature,
I know not where is that Promethaean heate
That can thy Light re-Lume.
When I haue pluck'd thy Rose,
I cannot giue it vitall growth againe,
It needs must wither. Ile smell thee on the Tree.
Oh Balmy breath, that dost almost perswade
Iustice to breake her Sword. One more, one more:
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And loue thee after. One more, and that's the last.
So sweet, was ne're so fatall. I must weepe,
But they are cruell Teares: This sorrow's heauenly,
It strikes, where it doth loue. She wakes
   Des. Who's there? Othello?
  Othel. I Desdemona
   Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord?
  Oth. Haue you pray'd to night, Desdemon?
  Des. I my Lord
   Oth. If you bethinke your selfe of any Crime
Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace,
Solicite for it straight
   Des. Alacke, my Lord,
What may you meane by that?
  Oth. Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by:
I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit,
No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule
   Des. Talke you of killing?
  Oth. I, I do
   Des. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee
   Oth. Amen, with all my heart
   Des. If you say, I hope you will not kill me
   Oth. Humh
   Des. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then
When your eyes rowle so.
Why I should feare, I know not,
Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare
   Oth. Thinke on thy sinnes
   Des. They are Loues I beare to you
   Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st
   Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very Frame:
These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me
   Oth. Peace, and be still
   Des. I will so: What's the matter?
  Oth. That Handkerchiefe
Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio
   Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man,
And aske him
   Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury,
Thou art on thy death-bed
   Des. I, but not yet to dye
   Oth. Presently.
Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne:
For to deny each Article with Oath,
Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception
That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye
   Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me
   Oth. I say, Amen
   Des. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did
Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Cassio,
But with such generall warrantie of Heauen,
As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token
   Oth. By Heauen I saw my Handkerchiefe in's hand.
O periur'd woman, thou do'st stone my heart,
And makes me call, what I intend to do,
A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.
I saw the Handkerchiefe
   Des. He found it then:
I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither:
Let him confesse a truth
   Oth. He hath confest
   Des. What, my Lord?
  Oth. That he hath vs'd thee
   Des. How? vnlawfully?
   Des. He will not say so
   Oth. No: his mouth is stopp'd:
Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't
   Des. Oh, my feare interprets. What is he dead?
  Oth. Had all his haires bin liues, my great Reuenge
Had stomacke for them all
   Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I vndone
   Oth. Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face?
  Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not
   Oth. Downe Strumpet
   Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night
   Oth. Nay, if you striue
   Des. But halfe an houre
   Oth. Being done, there is no pawse
   Des. But while I say one prayer
   Oth. It is too late.
Smothers her.
aemilia at the doore.
Aemil. My Lord, my Lord? What hoa?
My Lord, my Lord
   Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
I that am cruell, am yet mercifull,
I would not haue thee linger in thy paine?
Aemil. within. What hoa? my Lord, my Lord?
  Oth. Who's there?
Aemil. Oh good my Lord, I would speake a word
   Oth. Yes: 'Tis aemilia: by and by. Shee's dead.
'Tis like she comes to speake of Cassio's death:
The noise was high. Hah, no more moouing?
Still as the Graue. Shall she come in? Wer't good?
I thinke she stirres againe. No, what's best to do?
If she come in, shee'l sure speake to my wife:
My wife, my wife: what wife? I haue no wife.
Oh insupportable! Oh heauy houre!
Me thinkes, it should be now a huge Eclipse
Of Sunne, and Moone; and that th' affrighted Globe
Did yawne at Alteration.
Aemil. I do beseech you
That I may speake with you. Oh good my Lord
   Oth. I had forgot thee: oh come in aemilia.
Soft, by and by, let me the Curtaines draw.
Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now?
Enter aemilia.
Aemil. Oh my good Lord, yonders foule Murthers
   Oth. What? now?
Aemil. But now, my Lord
   Oth. It is the very error of the Moone,
She comes more neerer Earth then she was wont,
And makes men mad.
Aemil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd
A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo
   Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd?
Aemil. No, Cassio is not kill'd
   Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then Murther's out of tune,
And sweet Reuenge growes harsh
   Des. O falsely, falsely murder'd.
Aemil. Alas! what cry is that?
  Oth. That? What?
Aemil. Out, and alas, that was my Ladies voice.
Helpe, helpe hoa, helpe. Oh Ladie speake againe,
Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistris, speake
   Des. A guiltlesse death, I dye.
Aemil. Oh who hath done this deed?
  Des. No body: I my selfe, farewell:
Commend me to my kinde Lord: oh farewell
   Oth. Why, how should she be murdred?
Aemil. Alas: who knowes?
  Oth. You heare her say her selfe, it was not I.
Aemil. She said so: I must needs report the truth
   Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning hell,
'Twas I that kill'd her.
Aemil. Oh the more Angell she, and you the blacker
   Oth. She turn'd to folly: and she was a whore.
Aemil. Thou do'st bely her, and thou art a diuell
   Oth. She was false as water.
Aemil. Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false. Oh she was heauenly true
   Oth. Cassio did top her: Ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell:
But that I did proceed vpon iust grounds
To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all.
Aemil. My Husband?
  Oth. Thy Husband.
Aemil. That she was false to Wedlocke?
  Oth. I, with Cassio: had she bin true,
If Heauen would make me such another world,
Of one entyre and perfect Chrysolite,
I'ld not haue sold her for it.
Aemil. My Husband?
  Oth. I, 'twas he that told me on her first,
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That stickes on filthy deeds.
Aemil. My Husband?
  Oth. What needs this itterance, Woman?
I say, thy Husband.
Aemil. Oh Mistris,
Villany hath made mockes with loue:
My Husband say she was false?
  Oth. He, Woman;
I say thy Husband: Do'st vnderstand the word?
My Friend, thy Husband; honest, honest Iago.
Aemil. If he say so, may his pernicious Soule
Rot halfe a graine a day: he lyes to'th' heart,
She was too fond of her most filthy Bargaine
   Oth. Hah?
Aemil. Do thy worst:
This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen,
Then thou was't worthy her
   Oth. Peace, you were best.
Aemil. Thou hast not halfe that powre to do me harm,
As I haue to be hurt. Oh Gull, oh dolt,
As ignorant as durt: thou hast done a deed
(I care not for thy Sword) Ile make thee known,
Though I lost twenty liues. Helpe, helpe, hoa, helpe:
The Moore hath kill'd my Mistris. Murther, murther.
Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.
  Mon. What is the matter? How now Generall?
Aemil. Oh, are you come, Iago: you haue done well,
That men must lay their Murthers on your necke
   Gra. What is the matter?
Aemil. Disproue this Villaine, if thou bee'st a man:
He sayes, thou told'st him that his wife was false:
I know thou did'st not: thou'rt not such a Villain.
Speake, for my heart is full
   Iago. I told him what I thought,
And told no more
Then what he found himselfe was apt, and true.
Aemil. But did you euer tell him,
She was false?
  Iago. I did.
Aemil. You told a Lye an odious damned Lye:
Vpon my Soule, a Lye; a wicked Lye.
Shee false with Cassio?
Did you say with Cassio?
  Iago. With Cassio, Mistris?
Go too, charme your tongue
   Emil. I will not charme my Tongue;
I am bound to speake,
My Mistris heere lyes murthered in her bed
   All. Oh Heauens, forefend
   Emil. And your reports haue set the Murder on
   Othello. Nay stare not Masters,
It is true indeede
   Gra. 'Tis a strange Truth
   Mont. O monstrous Acte
   Emil. Villany, villany, villany:
I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I smel't: O Villany:
I thought so then: Ile kill my selfe for greefe.
O villany! villany!
  Iago. What, are you mad?
I charge you get you home
   Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to speake:
'Tis proper I obey him; but not now:
Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home
   Oth. Oh, oh, oh
   Emil. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare:
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
That ere did lift vp eye
   Oth. Oh she was fowle!
I scarse did know you Vnkle, there lies your Neece,
Whose breath (indeed) these hands haue newly stopp'd:
I know this acte shewes horrible and grim
   Gra. Poore Desdemon:
I am glad thy Father's dead,
Thy Match was mortall to him: and pure greefe
Shore his old thred in twaine. Did he liue now,
This sight would make him do a desperate turne:
Yea, curse his better Angell from his side,
And fall to Reprobance
   Oth. 'Tis pittifull: but yet Iago knowes
That she with Cassio, hath the Act of shame
A thousand times committed. Cassio confest it,
And she did gratifie his amorous workes
With that Recognizance and pledge of Loue
Which I first gaue her: I saw it in his hand:
It was a Handkerchiefe, an Antique Token
My Father gaue my Mother
   Emil. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres!
  Iago. Come, hold your peace
   Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace?
No, I will speake as liberall as the North;
Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all,
All, all, crie shame against me, yet Ile speake
   Iago. Be wise, and get you home
   Emil. I will not
   Gra. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman
   Emil. Oh thou dull Moore,
That Handkerchiefe thou speak'st of
I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband:
For often, with a solemne earnestnesse,
(More then indeed belong'd to such a Trifle)
He begg'd of me, to steale't
   Iago. Villanous Whore
   Emil. She giue it Cassio? No, alas I found it,
And I did giu't my Husband
   Iago. Filth, thou lyest
   Emil. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen:
Oh murd'rous Coxcombe, what should such a Foole
Do with so good a wife?
  Oth. Are there no stones in Heauen,
But what serues for the Thunder?
Precious Villaine
   Gra. The woman falles:
Sure he hath kill'd his Wife
   Emil. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistris side
   Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd
   Mon. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon
Which I haue recouer'd from the Moore:
Come guard the doore without, let him not passe,
But kill him rather. Ile after that same villaine,
For 'tis a damned Slaue.
  Oth. I am not valiant neither:
But euery Punie whipster gets my Sword.
But why should Honor out-liue Honesty?
Let it go all.
Aemil. What did thy Song boad Lady?
Hearke, canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,
And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough.
Moore, she was chaste: She lou'd thee, cruell Moore,
So come my Soule to blisse, as I speake true:
So speaking as I thinke, alas, I dye
   Oth. I haue another weapon in this Chamber,
It was a Sword of Spaine, the Ice brookes temper:
Oh heere it is: Vnkle I must come forth
   Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere;
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer
   Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake with me,
Or naked as I am I will assault thee
   Gra. What is the matter?
  Othel. Behold, I haue a weapon:
A better neuer did it selfe sustaine
Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue seene the day,
That with this little Arme, and this good Sword,
I haue made my way through more impediments
Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vaine boast)
Who can controll his Fate? 'Tis not so now.
Be not affraid, though you do see me weapon'd:
Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt
And verie Sea-marke of my vtmost Saile.
Do you go backe dismaid? 'Tis a lost feare:
Man but a Rush against Othello's brest,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now: how dost thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench,
Pale as thy Smocke: when we shall meete at compt,
This looke of thine will hurle my Soule from Heauen,
And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle?
Euen like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slaue!
Whip me ye Diuels,
From the possession of this Heauenly sight:
Blow me about in windes, roast me in Sulphure,
Wash me in steepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire.
Oh Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, oh!
Enter Lodouico, Cassio, Montano, and Iago, with Officers.
  Lod. Where is this rash, and most vnfortunate man?
  Oth. That's he that was Othello: heere I am
   Lod. Where is that Viper?
Bring the Villaine forth
   Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable,
If that thou bee'st a Diuell, I cannot kill thee
   Lod. Wrench his Sword from him
   Iago. I bleed Sir, but not kill'd
   Othel. I am not sorry neither, Il'd haue thee liue:
For in my sense, 'tis happinesse to die
   Lod. Oh thou Othello, that was once so good,
Falne in the practise of a cursed Slaue,
What shall be saide to thee
   Oth. Why any thing:
An honourable Murderer, if you will:
For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour
   Lod. This wretch hath part confest his Villany:
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death
   Cas. Deere Generall, I neuer gaue you cause
   Oth. I do beleeue it, and I aske your pardon:
Will you, I pray, demand that demy-Diuell,
Why he hath thus ensnar'd my Soule and Body
   Iag. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:
From this time forth, I neuer will speake word
   Lod. What? not to pray?
  Gra. Torments will ope your lips
   Oth. Well, thou dost best
   Lod. Sir,
You shall vnderstand what hath befalne,
(Which, as I thinke, you know not) heere is a Letter
Found in the pocket of the slaine Rodorigo,
And heere another, the one of them imports
The death of Cassio, to be vndertooke
   Oth. O Villaine!
  Cassio. Most Heathenish, and most grosse
   Lod. Now, heere's another discontented paper
Found in his pocket too: and this it seemes
Rodorigo meant t'haue sent this damned villaine:
But that (belike) Iago in the interim
Came in, and satisfi'd him
   Oth. Oh thou pernitious Caitiffe;
How came you (Cassio) by that Handkerchiefe
That was my wiues?
  Cassio. I found it in my Chamber:
And he himselfe confest it but euen now,
That there he dropt it for a speciall purpose,
Which wrought to his desire
   Othel. O Foole, foole, foole!
  Cassio. There is besides, in Rodorigo's Letter,
How he vpbraides Iago, that he made him
Braue me vpon the Watch: whereon it came
That I was cast: and euen but now he spake
(After long seeming dead) Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on
   Lod. You must forsake this roome, and go with vs:
Your Power, and your Command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this Slaue,
If there be any cunning Crueltie,
That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close Prisoner rest,
Till that the Nature of your fault be knowne
To the Venetian State. Come, bring away
   Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you goe:
I haue done the State some seruice, and they know't:
No more of that. I pray you in your Letters,
When you shall these vnluckie deeds relate,
Speake of me, as I am. Nothing extenuate,
Nor set downe ought in malice.
Then must you speake,
Of one that lou'd not wisely, but too well:
Of one, not easily Iealious, but being wrought,
Perplexed in the extreame: Of one, whose hand
(Like the base Iudean) threw a Pearle away
Richer then all his Tribe: Of one, whose subdu'd Eyes,
Albeit vn-vsed to the melting moode,
Drops teares as fast as the Arabian Trees
Their Medicinable gumme. Set you downe this:
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant, and a Turbond-Turke
Beate a Venetian, and traduc'd the State,
I tooke by th' throat the circumcised Dogge,
And smoate him, thus
   Lod. Oh bloody period
   Gra. All that is spoke, is marr'd
   Oth. I kist thee, ere I kill'd thee: No way but this,
Killing my selfe, to dye vpon a kisse.
  Cas. This did I feare, but thought he had no weapon:
For he was great of heart
   Lod. Oh Sparton Dogge:
More fell then Anguish, Hunger, or the Sea:
Looke on the Tragicke Loading of this bed:
This is thy worke:
The Obiect poysons Sight,
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keepe the house,
And seize vpon the Fortunes of the Moore,
For they succeede on you. To you, Lord Gouernor,
Remaines the Censure of this hellish villaine:
The Time, the Place, the Torture, oh inforce it:
My selfe will straight aboord, and to the State,
This heauie Act, with heauie heart relate.
The Names of the Actors.
Othello, the Moore.
Brabantio, Father to Desdemona.
Cassio, an Honourable Lieutenant.
Iago, a Villaine.
Rodorigo, a gull'd Gentleman.
Duke of Venice.
Montano, Gouernour of Cyprus.
Gentlemen of Cyprus.
Lodouico, and Gratiano, two Noble Venetians.
Desdemona, Wife to Othello.
Aemilia, Wife to Iago.
Bianca, a Curtezan.
THE TRAGEDIE OF Othello, the Moore of Venice.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of 
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie 
of King Lear.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of King Lear
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmond.
  Kent. I thought the King had more affected the
Duke of Albany, then Cornwall
   Glou. It did alwayes seeme so to vs: But
now in the diuision of the Kingdome, it appeares
not which of the Dukes hee valewes
most, for qualities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither,
can make choise of eithers moity
   Kent. Is not this your Son, my Lord?
  Glou. His breeding Sir, hath bin at my charge. I haue
so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am
braz'd too't
   Kent. I cannot conceiue you
   Glou. Sir, this yong Fellowes mother could; wherevpon
she grew round womb'd, and had indeede (Sir) a
Sonne for her Cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed.
Do you smell a fault?
  Kent. I cannot wish the fault vndone, the issue of it,
being so proper
   Glou. But I haue a Sonne, Sir, by order of Law, some
yeere elder then this; who, yet is no deerer in my account,
though this Knaue came somthing sawcily to the
world before he was sent for: yet was his Mother fayre,
there was good sport at his making, and the horson must
be acknowledged. Doe you know this Noble Gentleman,
  Edm. No, my Lord
   Glou. My Lord of Kent:
Remember him heereafter, as my Honourable Friend
   Edm. My seruices to your Lordship
   Kent. I must loue you, and sue to know you better
   Edm. Sir, I shall study deseruing
   Glou. He hath bin out nine yeares, and away he shall
againe. The King is comming.
Sennet. Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gonerill, Regan,
Cordelia, and
  Lear. Attend the Lords of France & Burgundy, Gloster
   Glou. I shall, my Lord.
  Lear. Meane time we shal expresse our darker purpose.
Giue me the Map there. Know, that we haue diuided
In three our Kingdome: and 'tis our fast intent,
To shake all Cares and Businesse from our Age,
Conferring them on yonger strengths, while we
Vnburthen'd crawle toward death. Our son of Cornwal,
And you our no lesse louing Sonne of Albany,
We haue this houre a constant will to publish
Our daughters seuerall Dowers, that future strife
May be preuented now. The Princes, France & Burgundy,
Great Riuals in our yongest daughters loue,
Long in our Court, haue made their amorous soiourne,
And heere are to be answer'd. Tell me my daughters
(Since now we will diuest vs both of Rule,
Interest of Territory, Cares of State)
Which of you shall we say doth loue vs most,
That we, our largest bountie may extend
Where Nature doth with merit challenge. Gonerill,
Our eldest borne, speake first
   Gon. Sir, I loue you more then word can weild y matter,
Deerer then eye-sight, space, and libertie,
Beyond what can be valewed, rich or rare,
No lesse then life, with grace, health, beauty, honor:
As much as Childe ere lou'd, or Father found.
A loue that makes breath poore, and speech vnable,
Beyond all manner of so much I loue you
   Cor. What shall Cordelia speake? Loue, and be silent
   Lear. Of all these bounds euen from this Line, to this,
With shadowie Forrests, and with Champains rich'd
With plenteous Riuers, and wide-skirted Meades
We make thee Lady. To thine and Albanies issues
Be this perpetuall. What sayes our second Daughter?
Our deerest Regan, wife of Cornwall?
  Reg. I am made of that selfe-mettle as my Sister,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart,
I finde she names my very deede of loue:
Onely she comes too short, that I professe
My selfe an enemy to all other ioyes,
Which the most precious square of sense professes,
And finde I am alone felicitate
In your deere Highnesse loue
   Cor. Then poore Cordelia,
And yet not so, since I am sure my loue's
More ponderous then my tongue
   Lear. To thee, and thine hereditarie euer,
Remaine this ample third of our faire Kingdome,
No lesse in space, validitie, and pleasure
Then that conferr'd on Gonerill. Now our Ioy,
Although our last and least; to whose yong loue,
The Vines of France, and Milke of Burgundie,
Striue to be interest. What can you say, to draw
A third, more opilent then your Sisters? speake
   Cor. Nothing my Lord
   Lear. Nothing?
  Cor. Nothing
   Lear. Nothing will come of nothing, speake againe
   Cor. Vnhappie that I am, I cannot heaue
My heart into my mouth: I loue your Maiesty
According to my bond, no more nor lesse
   Lear. How, how Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,
Least you may marre your Fortunes
   Cor. Good my Lord,
You haue begot me, bred me, lou'd me.
I returne those duties backe as are right fit,
Obey you, Loue you, and most Honour you.
Why haue my Sisters Husbands, if they say
They loue you all? Happily when I shall wed,
That Lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry
Halfe my loue with him, halfe my Care, and Dutie,
Sure I shall neuer marry like my Sisters
   Lear. But goes thy heart with this?
  Cor. I my good Lord
   Lear. So young, and so vntender?
  Cor. So young my Lord, and true
   Lear. Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dowre:
For by the sacred radience of the Sunne,
The misteries of Heccat and the night:
By all the operation of the Orbes,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be,
Heere I disclaime all my Paternall care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me,
Hold thee from this for euer. The barbarous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosome
Be as well neighbour'd, pittied, and releeu'd,
As thou my sometime Daughter
   Kent. Good my Liege
   Lear. Peace Kent,
Come not betweene the Dragon and his wrath,
I lou'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery. Hence and avoid my sight:
So be my graue my peace, as here I giue
Her Fathers heart from her; call France, who stirres?
Call Burgundy, Cornwall, and Albanie,
With my two Daughters Dowres, digest the third,
Let pride, which she cals plainnesse, marry her:
I doe inuest you ioyntly with my power,
Preheminence, and all the large effects
That troope with Maiesty. Our selfe by Monthly course,
With reseruation of an hundred Knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turne, onely we shall retaine
The name, and all th' addition to a King: the Sway,
Reuennew, Execution of the rest,
Beloued Sonnes be yours, which to confirme,
This Coronet part betweene you
   Kent. Royall Lear,
Whom I haue euer honor'd as my King,
Lou'd as my Father, as my Master follow'd,
As my great Patron thought on in my praiers
   Le. The bow is bent & drawne, make from the shaft
   Kent. Let it fall rather, though the forke inuade
The region of my heart, be Kent vnmannerly,
When Lear is mad, what wouldest thou do old man?
Think'st thou that dutie shall haue dread to speake,
When power to flattery bowes?
To plainnesse honour's bound,
When Maiesty falls to folly, reserue thy state,
And in thy best consideration checke
This hideous rashnesse, answere my life, my iudgement:
Thy yongest Daughter do's not loue thee least,
Nor are those empty hearted, whose low sounds
Reuerbe no hollownesse
   Lear. Kent, on thy life no more
   Kent. My life I neuer held but as pawne
To wage against thine enemies, nere feare to loose it,
Thy safety being motiue
   Lear. Out of my sight
   Kent. See better Lear, and let me still remaine
The true blanke of thine eie
   Lear. Now by Apollo,
  Kent. Now by Apollo, King
Thou swear'st thy Gods in vaine
   Lear. O Vassall! Miscreant
   Alb. Cor. Deare Sir forbeare
   Kent. Kill thy Physition, and thy fee bestow
Vpon the foule disease, reuoke thy guift,
Or whil'st I can vent clamour from my throate,
Ile tell thee thou dost euill
   Lea. Heare me recreant, on thine allegeance heare me;
That thou hast sought to make vs breake our vowes,
Which we durst neuer yet; and with strain'd pride,
To come betwixt our sentences, and our power,
Which, nor our nature, nor our place can beare;
Our potencie made good, take thy reward.
Fiue dayes we do allot thee for prouision,
To shield thee from disasters of the world,
And on the sixt to turne thy hated backe
Vpon our kingdome: if on the tenth day following,
Thy banisht trunke be found in our Dominions,
The moment is thy death, away. By Iupiter,
This shall not be reuok'd,
  Kent. Fare thee well King, sith thus thou wilt appeare,
Freedome liues hence, and banishment is here;
The Gods to their deere shelter take thee Maid,
That iustly think'st, and hast most rightly said:
And your large speeches, may your deeds approue,
That good effects may spring from words of loue:
Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adew,
Hee'l shape his old course, in a Country new.
Flourish. Enter Gloster with France, and Burgundy, Attendants.
  Cor. Heere's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord
   Lear. My Lord of Burgundie,
We first addresse toward you, who with this King
Hath riuald for our Daughter; what in the least
Will you require in present Dower with her,
Or cease your quest of Loue?
  Bur. Most Royall Maiesty,
I craue no more then hath your Highnesse offer'd,
Nor will you tender lesse?
  Lear. Right Noble Burgundy,
When she was deare to vs, we did hold her so,
But now her price is fallen: Sir, there she stands,
If ought within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it with our displeasure piec'd,
And nothing more may fitly like your Grace,
Shee's there, and she is yours
   Bur. I know no answer
   Lear. Will you with those infirmities she owes,
Vnfriended, new adopted to our hate,
Dow'rd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her or, leaue her
   Bur. Pardon me Royall Sir,
Election makes not vp in such conditions
   Le. Then leaue her sir, for by the powre that made me,
I tell you all her wealth. For you great King,
I would not from your loue make such a stray,
To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you
T' auert your liking a more worthier way,
Then on a wretch whom Nature is asham'd
Almost t' acknowledge hers
   Fra. This is most strange,
That she whom euen but now, was your obiect,
The argument of your praise, balme of your age,
The best, the deerest, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of fauour: sure her offence
Must be of such vnnaturall degree,
That monsters it: Or your fore-voucht affection
Fall into taint, which to beleeue of her
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should neuer plant in me
   Cor. I yet beseech your Maiesty.
If for I want that glib and oylie Art,
To speake and purpose not, since what I will intend,
Ile do't before I speake, that you make knowne
It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulenesse,
No vnchaste action or dishonoured step
That hath depriu'd me of your Grace and fauour,
But euen for want of that, for which I am richer,
A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue,
That I am glad I haue not, though not to haue it,
Hath lost me in your liking
   Lear. Better thou had'st
Not beene borne, then not t'haue pleas'd me better
   Fra. Is it but this? A tardinesse in nature,
Which often leaues the history vnspoke
That it intends to do: my Lord of Burgundy,
What say you to the Lady? Loue's not loue
When it is mingled with regards, that stands
Aloofe from th' intire point, will you haue her?
She is herselfe a Dowrie
   Bur. Royall King,
Giue but that portion which your selfe propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Dutchesse of Burgundie
   Lear. Nothing, I haue sworne, I am firme
   Bur. I am sorry then you haue so lost a Father,
That you must loose a husband
   Cor. Peace be with Burgundie,
Since that respect and Fortunes are his loue,
I shall not be his wife
   Fra. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poore,
Most choise forsaken, and most lou'd despis'd,
Thee and thy vertues here I seize vpon,
Be it lawfull I take vp what's cast away.
Gods, Gods! 'Tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect
My Loue should kindle to enflam'd respect.
Thy dowrelesse Daughter King, throwne to my chance,
Is Queene of vs, of ours, and our faire France:
Not all the Dukes of watrish Burgundy,
Can buy this vnpriz'd precious Maid of me.
Bid them farewell Cordelia, though vnkinde,
Thou loosest here a better where to finde
   Lear. Thou hast her France, let her be thine, for we
Haue no such Daughter, nor shall euer see
That face of hers againe, therfore be gone,
Without our Grace, our Loue, our Benizon:
Come Noble Burgundie.
Flourish. Exeunt.
  Fra. Bid farwell to your Sisters
   Cor. The Iewels of our Father, with wash'd eies
Cordelia leaues you, I know you what you are,
And like a Sister am most loth to call
Your faults as they are named. Loue well our Father:
To your professed bosomes I commit him,
But yet alas, stood I within his Grace,
I would prefer him to a better place,
So farewell to you both
   Regn. Prescribe not vs our dutie
   Gon. Let your study
Be to content your Lord, who hath receiu'd you
At Fortunes almes, you haue obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you haue wanted
   Cor. Time shall vnfold what plighted cunning hides,
Who couers faults, at last with shame derides:
Well may you prosper
   Fra. Come my faire Cordelia.
Exit France and Cor.
  Gon. Sister, it is not little I haue to say,
Of what most neerely appertaines to vs both,
I thinke our Father will hence to night
   Reg. That's most certaine, and with you: next moneth with vs
   Gon. You see how full of changes his age is, the obseruation
we haue made of it hath beene little; he alwaies
lou'd our Sister most, and with what poore iudgement he
hath now cast her off, appeares too grossely
   Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath euer but
slenderly knowne himselfe
   Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath bin but
rash, then must we looke from his age, to receiue not alone
the imperfections of long ingraffed condition, but
therewithall the vnruly way-wardnesse, that infirme and
cholericke yeares bring with them
   Reg. Such vnconstant starts are we like to haue from
him, as this of Kents banishment
   Gon. There is further complement of leaue-taking betweene
France and him, pray you let vs sit together, if our
Father carry authority with such disposition as he beares,
this last surrender of his will but offend vs
   Reg. We shall further thinke of it
   Gon. We must do something, and i'th' heate.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Bastard.
  Bast. Thou Nature art my Goddesse, to thy Law
My seruices are bound, wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custome, and permit
The curiosity of Nations, to depriue me?
For that I am some twelue, or fourteene Moonshines
Lag of a Brother? Why Bastard? Wherefore base?
When my Dimensions are as well compact,
My minde as generous, and my shape as true
As honest Madams issue? Why brand they vs
With Base? With basenes Bastardie? Base, Base?
Who in the lustie stealth of Nature, take
More composition, and fierce qualitie,
Then doth within a dull stale tyred bed
Goe to th' creating a whole tribe of Fops
Got 'tweene a sleepe, and wake? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must haue your land,
Our Fathers loue, is to the Bastard Edmond,
As to th' legitimate: fine word: Legitimate.
Well, my Legittimate, if this Letter speed,
And my inuention thriue, Edmond the base
Shall to'th' Legitimate: I grow, I prosper:
Now Gods, stand vp for Bastards.
Enter Gloucester.
  Glo. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choller parted?
And the King gone to night? Prescrib'd his powre,
Confin'd to exhibition? All this done
Vpon the gad? Edmond, how now? What newes?
  Bast. So please your Lordship, none
   Glou. Why so earnestly seeke you to put vp y Letter?
  Bast. I know no newes, my Lord
   Glou. What Paper were you reading?
  Bast. Nothing my Lord
   Glou. No? what needed then that terrible dispatch of
it into your Pocket? The quality of nothing, hath not
such neede to hide it selfe. Let's see: come, if it bee nothing,
I shall not neede Spectacles
   Bast. I beseech you Sir, pardon mee; it is a Letter
from my Brother, that I haue not all ore-read; and for so
much as I haue perus'd, I finde it not fit for your ore-looking
   Glou. Giue me the Letter, Sir
   Bast. I shall offend, either to detaine, or giue it:
The Contents, as in part I vnderstand them,
Are too blame
   Glou. Let's see, let's see
   Bast. I hope for my Brothers iustification, hee wrote
this but as an essay, or taste of my Vertue
   Glou. reads. This policie, and reuerence of Age, makes the
world bitter to the best of our times: keepes our Fortunes from
vs, till our oldnesse cannot rellish them. I begin to finde an idle
and fond bondage, in the oppression of aged tyranny, who swayes
not as it hath power, but as it is suffer'd. Come to me, that of
this I may speake more. If our Father would sleepe till I wak'd
him, you should enioy halfe his Reuennew for euer, and liue the
beloued of your Brother. Edgar.
Hum? Conspiracy? Sleepe till I wake him, you should
enioy halfe his Reuennew: my Sonne Edgar, had hee a
hand to write this? A heart and braine to breede it in?
When came you to this? Who brought it?
  Bast. It was not brought mee, my Lord; there's the
cunning of it. I found it throwne in at the Casement of
   Glou. You know the character to be your Brothers?
  Bast. If the matter were good my Lord, I durst swear
it were his: but in respect of that, I would faine thinke it
   Glou. It is his
   Bast. It is his hand, my Lord: but I hope his heart is
not in the Contents
   Glo. Has he neuer before sounded you in this busines?
  Bast. Neuer my Lord. But I haue heard him oft maintaine
it to be fit, that Sonnes at perfect age, and Fathers
declin'd, the Father should bee as Ward to the Son, and
the Sonne manage his Reuennew
   Glou. O Villain, villain: his very opinion in the Letter.
Abhorred Villaine, vnnaturall, detested, brutish
Villaine; worse then brutish: Go sirrah, seeke him: Ile
apprehend him. Abhominable Villaine, where is he?
  Bast. I do not well know my L[ord]. If it shall please you to
suspend your indignation against my Brother, til you can
deriue from him better testimony of his intent, you shold
run a certaine course: where, if you violently proceed against
him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great
gap in your owne Honor, and shake in peeces, the heart of
his obedience. I dare pawne downe my life for him, that
he hath writ this to feele my affection to your Honor, &
to no other pretence of danger
   Glou. Thinke you so?
  Bast. If your Honor iudge it meete, I will place you
where you shall heare vs conferre of this, and by an Auricular
assurance haue your satisfaction, and that without
any further delay, then this very Euening
   Glou. He cannot bee such a Monster. Edmond seeke
him out: winde me into him, I pray you: frame the Businesse
after your owne wisedome. I would vnstate my
selfe, to be in a due resolution
   Bast. I will seeke him Sir, presently: conuey the businesse
as I shall find meanes, and acquaint you withall
   Glou. These late Eclipses in the Sun and Moone portend
no good to vs: though the wisedome of Nature can
reason it thus, and thus, yet Nature finds it selfe scourg'd
by the sequent effects. Loue cooles, friendship falls off,
Brothers diuide. In Cities, mutinies; in Countries, discord;
in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crack'd, 'twixt
Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes vnder the
prediction; there's Son against Father, the King fals from
byas of Nature, there's Father against Childe. We haue
seene the best of our time. Machinations, hollownesse,
treacherie, and all ruinous disorders follow vs disquietly
to our Graues. Find out this Villain, Edmond, it shall lose
thee nothing, do it carefully: and the Noble & true-harted
Kent banish'd; his offence, honesty. 'Tis strange.
  Bast. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that
when we are sicke in fortune, often the surfets of our own
behauiour, we make guilty of our disasters, the Sun, the
Moone, and Starres, as if we were villaines on necessitie,
Fooles by heauenly compulsion, Knaues, Theeues, and
Treachers by Sphericall predominance. Drunkards, Lyars,
and Adulterers by an inforc'd obedience of Planatary
influence; and all that we are euill in, by a diuine thrusting
on. An admirable euasion of Whore-master-man,
to lay his Goatish disposition on the charge of a Starre,
My father compounded with my mother vnder the Dragons
taile, and my Natiuity was vnder Vrsa Maior, so
that it followes, I am rough and Leacherous. I should
haue bin that I am, had the maidenlest Starre in the Firmament
twinkled on my bastardizing.
Enter Edgar.
Pat: he comes like the Catastrophe of the old Comedie:
my Cue is villanous Melancholly, with a sighe like Tom
o' Bedlam. - O these Eclipses do portend these diuisions.
Fa, Sol, La, Me
   Edg. How now Brother Edmond, what serious contemplation
  Bast. I am thinking Brother of a prediction I read this
other day, what should follow these Eclipses
   Edg. Do you busie your selfe with that?
  Bast. I promise you, the effects he writes of, succeede
When saw you my Father last?
  Edg. The night gone by
   Bast. Spake you with him?
  Edg. I, two houres together
   Bast. Parted you in good termes? Found you no displeasure
in him, by word, nor countenance?
  Edg. None at all,
  Bast. Bethink your selfe wherein you may haue offended
him: and at my entreaty forbeare his presence, vntill
some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure,
which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischiefe
of your person, it would scarsely alay
   Edg. Some Villaine hath done me wrong
   Edm. That's my feare, I pray you haue a continent
forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower: and as
I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will
fitly bring you to heare my Lord speake: pray ye goe,
there's my key: if you do stirre abroad, goe arm'd
   Edg. Arm'd, Brother?
  Edm. Brother, I aduise you to the best, I am no honest
man, if ther be any good meaning toward you: I haue told
you what I haue seene, and heard: But faintly. Nothing
like the image, and horror of it, pray you away
   Edg. Shall I heare from you anon?
  Edm. I do serue you in this businesse:
A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble,
Whose nature is so farre from doing harmes,
That he suspects none: on whose foolish honestie
My practises ride easie: I see the businesse.
Let me, if not by birth, haue lands by wit,
All with me's meete, that I can fashion fit.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Gonerill, and Steward.
  Gon. Did my Father strike my Gentleman for chiding
of his Foole?
  Ste. I Madam
   Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me, euery howre
He flashes into one grosse crime, or other,
That sets vs all at ods: Ile not endure it;
His Knights grow riotous, and himselfe vpbraides vs
On euery trifle. When he returnes from hunting,
I will not speake with him, say I am sicke,
If you come slacke of former seruices,
You shall do well, the fault of it Ile answer
   Ste. He's comming Madam, I heare him
   Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your Fellowes: I'de haue it come to question;
If he distaste it, let him to my Sister,
Whose mind and mine I know in that are one,
Remember what I haue said
   Ste. Well Madam
   Gon. And let his Knights haue colder lookes among
you: what growes of it no matter, aduise your fellowes
so, Ile write straight to my Sister to hold my course; prepare
Scena Quarta.
  Kent. If but as will I other accents borrow,
That can my speech defuse, my good intent
May carry through it selfe to that full issue
For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent,
If thou canst serue where thou dost stand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy Master whom thou lou'st,
Shall find thee full of labours.
Hornes within. Enter Lear and Attendants.
  Lear. Let me not stay a iot for dinner, go get it ready:
how now, what art thou?
  Kent. A man Sir
   Lear. What dost thou professe? What would'st thou
  Kent. I do professe to be no lesse then I seeme; to serue
him truely that will put me in trust, to loue him that is
honest, to conuerse with him that is wise and saies little, to
feare iudgement, to fight when I cannot choose, and to
eate no fish
   Lear. What art thou?
  Kent. A very honest hearted Fellow, and as poore as
   Lear. If thou be'st as poore for a subiect, as hee's for a
King, thou art poore enough. What wouldst thou?
  Kent. Seruice
   Lear. Who wouldst thou serue?
   Lear. Do'st thou know me fellow?
  Kent. No Sir, but you haue that in your countenance,
which I would faine call Master
   Lear. What's that?
  Kent. Authority
   Lear. What seruices canst thou do?
  Kent. I can keepe honest counsaile, ride, run, marre a
curious tale in telling it, and deliuer a plaine message
bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am quallified
in, and the best of me, is Dilligence
   Lear. How old art thou?
  Kent. Not so young Sir to loue a woman for singing,
nor so old to dote on her for any thing. I haue yeares on
my backe forty eight
   Lear. Follow me, thou shalt serue me, if I like thee no
worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner
ho, dinner, where's my knaue? my Foole? Go you and call
my Foole hither. You you Sirrah, where's my Daughter?
Enter Steward.
  Ste. So please you-
  Lear. What saies the Fellow there? Call the Clotpole
backe: wher's my Foole? Ho, I thinke the world's
asleepe, how now? Where's that Mungrell?
  Knigh. He saies my Lord, your Daughters is not well
   Lear. Why came not the slaue backe to me when I
  Knigh. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he
   Lear. He would not?
  Knight. My Lord, I know not what the matter is,
but to my iudgement your Highnesse is not entertain'd
with that Ceremonious affection as you were wont,
theres a great abatement of kindnesse appeares as well in
the generall dependants, as in the Duke himselfe also, and
your Daughter
   Lear. Ha? Saist thou so?
  Knigh. I beseech you pardon me my Lord, if I bee
mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent, when I thinke
your Highnesse wrong'd
   Lear. Thou but remembrest me of mine owne Conception,
I haue perceiued a most faint neglect of late,
which I haue rather blamed as mine owne iealous curiositie,
then as a very pretence and purpose of vnkindnesse;
I will looke further intoo't: but where's my Foole? I
haue not seene him this two daies
   Knight. Since my young Ladies going into France
Sir, the Foole hath much pined away
   Lear. No more of that, I haue noted it well, goe you
and tell my Daughter, I would speake with her. Goe you
call hither my Foole; Oh you Sir, you, come you hither
Sir, who am I Sir?
Enter Steward.
  Ste. My Ladies Father
   Lear. My Ladies Father? my Lords knaue, you whorson
dog, you slaue, you curre
   Ste. I am none of these my Lord,
I beseech your pardon
   Lear. Do you bandy lookes with me, you Rascall?
  Ste. Ile not be strucken my Lord
   Kent. Nor tript neither, you base Foot-ball plaier
   Lear. I thanke thee fellow.
Thou seru'st me, and Ile loue thee
   Kent. Come sir, arise, away, Ile teach you differences:
away, away, if you will measure your lubbers length againe,
tarry, but away, goe too, haue you wisedome, so
   Lear. Now my friendly knaue I thanke thee, there's
earnest of thy seruice.
Enter Foole.
  Foole. Let me hire him too, here's my Coxcombe
   Lear. How now my pretty knaue, how dost thou?
  Foole. Sirrah, you were best take my Coxcombe
   Lear. Why my Boy?
  Foole. Why? for taking ones part that's out of fauour,
nay, & thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch
colde shortly, there take my Coxcombe; why this fellow
ha's banish'd two on's Daughters, and did the third a
blessing against his will, if thou follow him, thou must
needs weare my Coxcombe. How now Nunckle? would
I had two Coxcombes and two Daughters
   Lear. Why my Boy?
  Fool. If I gaue them all my liuing, I'ld keepe my Coxcombes
my selfe, there's mine, beg another of thy
   Lear. Take heed Sirrah, the whip
   Foole. Truth's a dog must to kennell, hee must bee
whipt out, when the Lady Brach may stand by'th' fire
   Lear. A pestilent gall to me
   Foole. Sirha, Ile teach thee a speech
   Foole. Marke it Nuncle;
Haue more then thou showest,
Speake lesse then thou knowest,
Lend lesse then thou owest,
Ride more then thou goest,
Learne more then thou trowest,
Set lesse then thou throwest;
Leaue thy drinke and thy whore,
And keepe in a dore,
And thou shalt haue more,
Then two tens to a score
   Kent. This is nothing Foole
   Foole. Then 'tis like the breath of an vnfeed Lawyer,
you gaue me nothing for't, can you make no vse of nothing
  Lear. Why no Boy,
Nothing can be made out of nothing
   Foole. Prythee tell him, so much the rent of his land
comes to, he will not beleeue a Foole
   Lear. A bitter Foole
   Foole. Do'st thou know the difference my Boy, betweene
a bitter Foole, and a sweet one
   Lear. No Lad, teach me
   Foole. Nunckle, giue me an egge, and Ile giue thee
   Lear. What two Crownes shall they be?
  Foole. Why after I haue cut the egge i'th' middle and
eate vp the meate, the two Crownes of the egge: when
thou clouest thy Crownes i'th' middle, and gau'st away
both parts, thou boar'st thine Asse on thy backe o're the
durt, thou hadst little wit in thy bald crowne, when thou
gau'st thy golden one away; if I speake like my selfe in
this, let him be whipt that first findes it so.
Fooles had nere lesse grace in a yeere,
For wisemen are growne foppish,
And know not how their wits to weare,
Their manners are so apish
   Le. When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah?
  Foole. I haue vsed it Nunckle, ere since thou mad'st
thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gau'st them
the rod, and put'st downe thine owne breeches, then they
For sodaine ioy did weepe,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a King should play bo-peepe,
And goe the Foole among.
Pry'thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaster that can teach
thy Foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie
   Lear. And you lie sirrah, wee'l haue you whipt
   Foole. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are,
they'l haue me whipt for speaking true: thou'lt haue me
whipt for lying, and sometimes I am whipt for holding
my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then a foole,
and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou hast pared thy
wit o' both sides, and left nothing i'th' middle; heere
comes one o'the parings.
Enter Gonerill.
  Lear. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet
on? You are too much of late i'th' frowne
   Foole. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no
need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O without
a figure, I am better then thou art now, I am a Foole,
thou art nothing. Yes forsooth I will hold my tongue, so
your face bids me, though you say nothing.
Mum, mum, he that keepes nor crust, nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some. That's a sheal'd Pescod
   Gon. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole,
But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourely Carpe and Quarrell, breaking forth
In ranke, and (not to be endur'd) riots Sir.
I had thought by making this well knowne vnto you,
To haue found a safe redresse, but now grow fearefull
By what your selfe too late haue spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on
By your allowance, which if you should, the fault
Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleepe,
Which in the tender of a wholesome weale,
Mighty in their working do you that offence,
Which else were shame, that then necessitie
Will call discreet proceeding
   Foole. For you know Nunckle, the Hedge-Sparrow
fed the Cuckoo so long, that it's had it head bit off by it
young, so out went the Candle, and we were left darkling
   Lear. Are you our Daughter?
  Gon. I would you would make vse of your good wisedome
(Whereof I know you are fraught), and put away
These dispositions, which of late transport you
From what you rightly are
   Foole. May not an Asse know, when the Cart drawes
Whoop Iugge I loue thee
   Lear. Do's any heere know me?
This is not Lear:
Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eies?
Either his Notion weakens, his Discernings
Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so?
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
  Foole. Lears shadow
   Lear. Your name, faire Gentlewoman?
  Gon. This admiration Sir, is much o'th' sauour
Of other your new prankes. I do beseech you
To vnderstand my purposes aright:
As you are Old, and Reuerend, should be Wise.
Heere do you keepe a hundred Knights and Squires,
Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,
That this our Court infected with their manners,
Shewes like a riotous Inne; Epicurisme and Lust
Makes it more like a Tauerne, or a Brothell,
Then a grac'd Pallace. The shame it selfe doth speake
For instant remedy. Be then desir'd
By her, that else will take the thing she begges,
A little to disquantity your Traine,
And the remainders that shall still depend,
To be such men as may besort your Age,
Which know themselues, and you
   Lear. Darknesse, and Diuels.
Saddle my horses: call my Traine together.
Degenerate Bastard, Ile not trouble thee;
Yet haue I left a daughter
   Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rable,
make Seruants of their Betters.
Enter Albany.
  Lear. Woe, that too late repents:
Is it your will, speake Sir? Prepare my Horses.
Ingratitude! thou Marble-hearted Fiend,
More hideous when thou shew'st thee in a Child,
Then the Sea-monster
   Alb. Pray Sir be patient
   Lear. Detested Kite, thou lyest.
My Traine are men of choice, and rarest parts,
That all particulars of dutie know,
And in the most exact regard, support
The worships of their name. O most small fault,
How vgly did'st thou in Cordelia shew?
Which like an Engine, wrencht my frame of Nature
From the fixt place: drew from my heart all loue,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beate at this gate that let thy Folly in,
And thy deere Iudgement out. Go, go, my people
   Alb. My Lord, I am guiltlesse, as I am ignorant
Of what hath moued you
   Lear. It may be so, my Lord.
Heare Nature, heare deere Goddesse, heare:
Suspend thy purpose, if thou did'st intend
To make this Creature fruitfull:
Into her Wombe conuey stirrility,
Drie vp in her the Organs of increase,
And from her derogate body, neuer spring
A Babe to honor her. If she must teeme,
Create her childe of Spleene, that it may liue
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her.
Let it stampe wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent Teares fret Channels in her cheekes,
Turne all her Mothers paines, and benefits
To laughter, and contempt: That she may feele,
How sharper then a Serpents tooth it is,
To haue a thanklesse Childe. Away, away.
  Alb. Now Gods that we adore,
Whereof comes this?
  Gon. Neuer afflict your selfe to know more of it:
But let his disposition haue that scope
As dotage giues it.
  Lear. What fiftie of my Followers at a clap?
Within a fortnight?
  Alb. What's the matter, Sir?
  Lear. Ile tell thee:
Life and death, I am asham'd
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus,
That these hot teares, which breake from me perforce
Should make thee worth them.
Blastes and Fogges vpon thee:
Th' vntented woundings of a Fathers curse
Pierce euerie sense about thee. Old fond eyes,
Beweepe this cause againe, Ile plucke ye out,
And cast you with the waters that you loose
To temper Clay. Ha? Let it be so.
I haue another daughter,
Who I am sure is kinde and comfortable:
When she shall heare this of thee, with her nailes
Shee'l flea thy Woluish visage. Thou shalt finde,
That Ile resume the shape which thou dost thinke
I haue cast off for euer.
  Gon. Do you marke that?
  Alb. I cannot be so partiall Gonerill,
To the great loue I beare you
   Gon. Pray you content. What Oswald, hoa?
You Sir, more Knaue then Foole, after your Master
   Foole. Nunkle Lear, Nunkle Lear,
Tarry, take the Foole with thee:
A Fox, when one has caught her,
And such a Daughter,
Should sure to the Slaughter,
If my Cap would buy a Halter,
So the Foole followes after.
  Gon. This man hath had good Counsell,
A hundred Knights?
'Tis politike, and safe to let him keepe
At point a hundred Knights: yes, that on euerie dreame,
Each buz, each fancie, each complaint, dislike,
He may enguard his dotage with their powres,
And hold our liues in mercy. Oswald, I say
   Alb. Well, you may feare too farre
   Gon. Safer then trust too farre;
Let me still take away the harmes I feare,
Not feare still to be taken. I know his heart,
What he hath vtter'd I haue writ my Sister:
If she sustaine him, and his hundred Knights
When I haue shew'd th' vnfitnesse.
Enter Steward.
How now Oswald?
What haue you writ that Letter to my Sister?
  Stew. I Madam
   Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse,
Informe her full of my particular feare,
And thereto adde such reasons of your owne,
As may compact it more. Get you gone,
And hasten your returne; no, no, my Lord,
This milky gentlenesse, and course of yours
Though I condemne not, yet vnder pardon
You are much more at task for want of wisedome,
Then prais'd for harmefull mildnesse
   Alb. How farre your eies may pierce I cannot tell;
Striuing to better, oft we marre what's well
   Gon. Nay then-
  Alb. Well, well, th' euent.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, and Foole.
  Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these Letters;
acquaint my Daughter no further with any thing you
know, then comes from her demand out of the Letter,
if your Dilligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore
   Kent. I will not sleepe my Lord, till I haue deliuered
your Letter.
  Foole. If a mans braines were in's heeles, wert not in
danger of kybes?
  Lear. I Boy
   Foole. Then I prythee be merry, thy wit shall not go
   Lear. Ha, ha, ha
   Fool. Shalt see thy other Daughter will vse thee kindly,
for though she's as like this, as a Crabbe's like an
Apple, yet I can tell what I can tell
   Lear. What can'st tell Boy?
  Foole. She will taste as like this as, a Crabbe do's to a
Crab: thou canst, tell why ones nose stands i'th' middle
   Foole. Why to keepe ones eyes of either side 's nose,
that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into
   Lear. I did her wrong
   Foole. Can'st tell how an Oyster makes his shell?
   Foole. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a Snaile ha's
   Lear. Why?
  Foole. Why to put's head in, not to giue it away to his
daughters, and leaue his hornes without a case
   Lear. I will forget my Nature, so kind a Father? Be
my Horsses ready?
  Foole. Thy Asses are gone about 'em; the reason why
the seuen Starres are no mo then seuen, is a pretty reason
   Lear. Because they are not eight
   Foole. Yes indeed, thou would'st make a good Foole
   Lear. To tak't againe perforce; Monster Ingratitude!
  Foole. If thou wert my Foole Nunckle, Il'd haue thee
beaten for being old before thy time
   Lear. How's that?
  Foole. Thou shouldst not haue bin old, till thou hadst
   Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad sweet Heauen:
keepe me in temper, I would not be mad. How now are
the Horses ready?
  Gent. Ready my Lord
   Lear. Come Boy
   Fool. She that's a Maid now, & laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a Maid long, vnlesse things be cut shorter.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Bastard, and Curan, seuerally.
  Bast. Saue thee Curan
   Cur. And you Sir, I haue bin
With your Father, and giuen him notice
That the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Duchesse
Will be here with him this night
   Bast. How comes that?
  Cur. Nay I know not, you haue heard of the newes abroad,
I meane the whisper'd ones, for they are yet but
ear-kissing arguments
   Bast. Not I: pray you what are they?
  Cur. Haue you heard of no likely Warres toward,
'Twixt the Dukes of Cornwall, and Albany?
  Bast. Not a word
   Cur. You may do then in time,
Fare you well Sir.
  Bast. The Duke be here to night? The better best,
This weaues it selfe perforce into my businesse,
My Father hath set guard to take my Brother,
And I haue one thing of a queazie question
Which I must act, Briefenesse, and Fortune worke.
Enter Edgar.
Brother, a word, discend; Brother I say,
My Father watches: O Sir, fly this place,
Intelligence is giuen where you are hid;
You haue now the good aduantage of the night,
Haue you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornewall?
Hee's comming hither, now i'th' night, i'th' haste,
And Regan with him, haue you nothing said
Vpon his partie 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
Aduise your selfe
   Edg. I am sure on't, not a word
   Bast. I heare my Father comming, pardon me:
In cunning, I must draw my Sword vpon you:
Draw, seeme to defend your selfe,
Now quit you well.
Yeeld, come before my Father, light hoa, here,
Fly Brother, Torches, Torches, so farewell.
Some blood drawne on me, would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeauour. I haue seene drunkards
Do more then this in sport; Father, Father,
Stop, stop, no helpe?
Enter Gloster, and Seruants with Torches.
  Glo. Now Edmund, where's the villaine?
  Bast. Here stood he in the dark, his sharpe Sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charmes, coniuring the Moone
To stand auspicious Mistris
   Glo. But where is he?
  Bast. Looke Sir, I bleed
   Glo. Where is the villaine, Edmund?
  Bast. Fled this way Sir, when by no meanes he could
   Glo. Pursue him, ho: go after. By no meanes, what?
  Bast. Perswade me to the murther of your Lordship,
But that I told him the reuenging Gods,
'Gainst Paricides did all the thunder bend,
Spoke with how manifold, and strong a Bond
The Child was bound to'th' Father; Sir in fine,
Seeing how lothly opposite I stood
To his vnnaturall purpose, in fell motion
With his prepared Sword, he charges home
My vnprouided body, latch'd mine arme;
And when he saw my best alarum'd spirits
Bold in the quarrels right, rouz'd to th' encounter,
Or whether gasted by the noyse I made,
Full sodainely he fled
   Glost. Let him fly farre:
Not in this Land shall he remaine vncaught
And found; dispatch, the Noble Duke my Master,
My worthy Arch and Patron comes to night,
By his authoritie I will proclaime it,
That he which finds him shall deserue our thankes,
Bringing the murderous Coward to the stake:
He that conceales him death
   Bast. When I disswaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to doe it, with curst speech
I threaten'd to discouer him; he replied,
Thou vnpossessing Bastard, dost thou thinke,
If I would stand against thee, would the reposall
Of any trust, vertue, or worth in thee
Make thy words faith'd? No, what should I denie,
(As this I would, though thou didst produce
My very Character) I'ld turne it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise:
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potentiall spirits
To make thee seeke it.
Tucket within.
  Glo. O strange and fastned Villaine,
Would he deny his Letter, said he?
Harke, the Dukes Trumpets, I know not wher he comes;
All Ports Ile barre, the villaine shall not scape,
The Duke must grant me that: besides, his picture
I will send farre and neere, that all the kingdome
May haue due note of him, and of my land,
(Loyall and naturall Boy) Ile worke the meanes
To make thee capable.
Enter Cornewall, Regan, and Attendants.
  Corn. How now my Noble friend, since I came hither
(Which I can call but now,) I haue heard strangenesse
   Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short
Which can pursue th' offender; how dost my Lord?
  Glo. O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd
   Reg. What, did my Fathers Godsonne seeke your life?
He whom my Father nam'd, your Edgar?
  Glo. O Lady, Lady, shame would haue it hid
   Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous Knights
That tended vpon my Father?
  Glo. I know not Madam, 'tis too bad, too bad
   Bast. Yes Madam, he was of that consort
   Reg. No maruaile then, though he were ill affected,
'Tis they haue put him on the old mans death,
To haue th' expence and wast of his Reuenues:
I haue this present euening from my Sister
Beene well inform'd of them, and with such cautions,
That if they come to soiourne at my house,
Ile not be there
   Cor. Nor I, assure thee Regan;
Edmund, I heare that you haue shewne your Father
A Child-like Office
   Bast. It was my duty Sir
   Glo. He did bewray his practise, and receiu'd
This hurt you see, striuing to apprehend him
   Cor. Is he pursued?
  Glo. I my good Lord
   Cor. If he be taken, he shall neuer more
Be fear'd of doing harme, make your owne purpose,
How in my strength you please: for you Edmund,
Whose vertue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend it selfe, you shall be ours,
Nature's of such deepe trust, we shall much need:
You we first seize on
   Bast. I shall serue you Sir truely, how euer else
   Glo. For him I thanke your Grace
   Cor. You know not why we came to visit you?
  Reg. Thus out of season, thredding darke ey'd night,
Occasions Noble Gloster of some prize,
Wherein we must haue vse of your aduise.
Our Father he hath writ, so hath our Sister,
Of differences, which I best thought it fit
To answere from our home: the seuerall Messengers
From hence attend dispatch, our good old Friend,
Lay comforts to your bosome, and bestow
Your needfull counsaile to our businesses,
Which craues the instant vse
   Glo. I serue you Madam,
Your Graces are right welcome.
Exeunt. Flourish.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Kent, and Steward seuerally.
  Stew. Good dawning to thee Friend, art of this house?
   Stew. Where may we set our horses?
  Kent. I'th' myre
   Stew. Prythee, if thou lou'st me, tell me
   Kent. I loue thee not
   Ste. Why then I care not for thee
   Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make
thee care for me
   Ste. Why do'st thou vse me thus? I know thee not
   Kent. Fellow I know thee
   Ste. What do'st thou know me for?
  Kent. A Knaue, a Rascall, an eater of broken meates, a
base, proud, shallow, beggerly, three-suited-hundred
pound, filthy woosted-stocking knaue, a Lilly-liuered,
action-taking, whoreson glasse-gazing super-seruiceable
finicall Rogue, one Trunke-inheriting slaue, one that
would'st be a Baud in way of good seruice, and art nothing
but the composition of a Knaue, Begger, Coward,
Pandar, and the Sonne and Heire of a Mungrill Bitch,
one whom I will beate into clamours whining, if thou
deny'st the least sillable of thy addition
   Stew. Why, what a monstrous Fellow art thou, thus
to raile on one, that is neither knowne of thee, nor
knowes thee?
  Kent. What a brazen-fac'd Varlet art thou, to deny
thou knowest me? Is it two dayes since I tript vp thy
heeles, and beate thee before the King? Draw you rogue,
for though it be night, yet the Moone shines, Ile make a
sop oth' Moonshine of you, you whoreson Cullyenly
Barber-monger, draw
   Stew. Away, I haue nothing to do with thee
   Kent. Draw you Rascall, you come with Letters against
the King, and take Vanitie the puppets part, against
the Royaltie of her Father: draw you Rogue, or
Ile so carbonado your shanks, draw you Rascall, come
   Ste. Helpe, ho, murther, helpe
   Kent. Strike you slaue: stand rogue, stand you neat
slaue, strike
   Stew. Helpe hoa, murther, murther.
Enter Bastard, Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.
  Bast. How now, what's the matter? Part
   Kent. With you goodman Boy, if you please, come,
Ile flesh ye, come on yong Master
   Glo. Weapons? Armes? what's the matter here?
  Cor. Keepe peace vpon your liues, he dies that strikes
againe, what is the matter?
  Reg. The Messengers from our Sister, and the King?
  Cor. What is your difference, speake?
  Stew. I am scarce in breath my Lord
   Kent. No Maruell, you haue so bestir'd your valour,
you cowardly Rascall, nature disclaimes in thee: a Taylor
   Cor. Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man?
  Kent. A Taylor Sir, a Stone-cutter, or a Painter, could
not haue made him so ill, though they had bin but two
yeares oth' trade
   Cor. Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?
  Ste. This ancient Ruffian Sir, whose life I haue spar'd
at sute of his gray-beard
   Kent. Thou whoreson Zed, thou vnnecessary letter:
my Lord, if you will giue me leaue, I will tread this vnboulted
villaine into morter, and daube the wall of a
Iakes with him. Spare my gray-beard, you wagtaile?
  Cor. Peace sirrah,
You beastly knaue, know you no reuerence?
  Kent. Yes Sir, but anger hath a priuiledge
   Cor. Why art thou angrie?
  Kent. That such a slaue as this should weare a Sword,
Who weares no honesty: such smiling rogues as these,
Like Rats oft bite the holy cords a twaine,
Which are t' intrince, t' vnloose: smooth euery passion
That in the natures of their Lords rebell,
Being oile to fire, snow to the colder moodes,
Reuenge, affirme, and turne their Halcion beakes
With euery gall, and varry of their Masters,
Knowing naught (like dogges) but following:
A plague vpon your Epilepticke visage,
Smoile you my speeches, as I were a Foole?
Goose, if I had you vpon Sarum Plaine,
I'ld driue ye cackling home to Camelot
   Corn. What art thou mad old Fellow?
  Glost. How fell you out, say that?
  Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy,
Then I, and such a knaue
   Corn. Why do'st thou call him Knaue?
What is his fault?
  Kent. His countenance likes me not
   Cor. No more perchance do's mine, nor his, nor hers
   Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plaine,
I haue seene better faces in my Time,
Then stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me, at this instant
   Corn. This is some Fellow,
Who hauing beene prais'd for bluntnesse, doth affect
A saucy roughnes, and constraines the garb
Quite from his Nature. He cannot flatter he,
An honest mind and plaine, he must speake truth,
And they will take it so, if not, hee's plaine.
These kind of Knaues I know, which in this plainnesse
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends,
Then twenty silly-ducking obseruants,
That stretch their duties nicely
   Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
Vnder th' allowance of your great aspect,
Whose influence like the wreath of radient fire
On flickring Phoebus front
   Corn. What mean'st by this?
  Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend
so much; I know Sir, I am no flatterer, he that beguild
you in a plaine accent, was a plaine Knaue, which
for my part I will not be, though I should win your
displeasure to entreat me too't
   Corn. What was th' offence you gaue him?
  Ste. I neuer gaue him any:
It pleas'd the King his Master very late
To strike at me vpon his misconstruction,
When he compact, and flattering his displeasure
Tript me behind: being downe, insulted, rail'd,
And put vpon him such a deale of Man,
That worthied him, got praises of the King,
For him attempting, who was selfe-subdued,
And in the fleshment of this dead exploit,
Drew on me here againe
   Kent. None of these Rogues, and Cowards
But Aiax is there Foole
   Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks?
You stubborne ancient Knaue, you reuerent Bragart,
Wee'l teach you
   Kent. Sir, I am too old to learne:
Call not your Stocks for me, I serue the King.
On whose imployment I was sent to you,
You shall doe small respects, show too bold malice
Against the Grace, and Person of my Master,
Stocking his Messenger
   Corn. Fetch forth the Stocks;
As I haue life and Honour, there shall he sit till Noone
   Reg. Till noone? till night my Lord, and all night too
   Kent. Why Madam, if I were your Fathers dog,
You should not vse me so
   Reg. Sir, being his Knaue, I will.
Stocks brought out.
  Cor. This is a Fellow of the selfe same colour,
Our Sister speakes of. Come, bring away the Stocks
   Glo. Let me beseech your Grace, not to do so,
The King his Master, needs must take it ill
That he so slightly valued in his Messenger,
Should haue him thus restrained
   Cor. Ile answere that
   Reg. My Sister may recieue it much more worsse,
To haue her Gentleman abus'd, assaulted
   Corn. Come my Lord, away.
  Glo. I am sorry for thee friend, 'tis the Dukes pleasure,
Whose disposition all the world well knowes
Will not be rub'd nor stopt, Ile entreat for thee
   Kent. Pray do not Sir, I haue watch'd and trauail'd hard,
Some time I shall sleepe out, the rest Ile whistle:
A good mans fortune may grow out at heeles:
Giue you good morrow
   Glo. The Duke's too blame in this,
'Twill be ill taken.
  Kent. Good King, that must approue the common saw,
Thou out of Heauens benediction com'st
To the warme Sun.
Approach thou Beacon to this vnder Globe,
That by thy comfortable Beames I may
Peruse this Letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
But miserie. I know 'tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most fortunately beene inform'd
Of my obscured course. And shall finde time
From this enormous State, seeking to giue
Losses their remedies. All weary and o're-watch'd,
Take vantage heauie eyes, not to behold
This shamefull lodging. Fortune goodnight,
Smile once more, turne thy wheele.
Enter Edgar.
  Edg. I heard my selfe proclaim'd,
And by the happy hollow of a Tree,
Escap'd the hunt. No Port is free, no place
That guard, and most vnusall vigilance
Do's not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape
I will preserue myselfe: and am bethought
To take the basest, and most poorest shape
That euer penury in contempt of man,
Brought neere to beast; my face Ile grime with filth,
Blanket my loines, else all my haires in knots,
And with presented nakednesse out-face
The Windes, and persecutions of the skie;
The Country giues me proofe, and president
Of Bedlam beggers, who with roaring voices,
Strike in their num'd and mortified Armes.
Pins, Wodden-prickes, Nayles, Sprigs of Rosemarie:
And with this horrible obiect, from low Farmes,
Poore pelting Villages, Sheeps-Coates, and Milles,
Sometimes with Lunaticke bans, sometime with Praiers
Inforce their charitie: poore Turlygod poore Tom,
That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am.
Enter Lear, Foole, and Gentleman.
  Lea. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
And not send backe my Messengers
   Gent. As I learn'd,
The night before, there was no purpose in them
Of this remoue
   Kent. Haile to thee Noble Master
   Lear. Ha? Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime?
  Kent. No my Lord
   Foole. Hah, ha, he weares Cruell Garters Horses are
tide by the heads, Dogges and Beares by'th' necke,
Monkies by'th' loynes, and Men by'th' legs: when a man
ouerlustie at legs, then he weares wodden nether-stocks
   Lear. What's he,
That hath so much thy place mistooke
To set thee heere?
  Kent. It is both he and she,
Your Son, and Daughter
   Kent. Yes
   Lear. No I say
   Kent. I say yea
   Lear. By Iupiter I sweare no
   Kent. By Iuno, I sweare I
   Lear. They durst not do't:
They could not, would not do't: 'tis worse then murther,
To do vpon respect such violent outrage:
Resolue me with all modest haste, which way
Thou might'st deserue, or they impose this vsage,
Comming from vs
   Kent. My Lord, when at their home
I did commend your Highnesse Letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place, that shewed
My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Poste,
Stew'd in his haste, halfe breathlesse, painting forth
From Gonerill his Mistris, salutations;
Deliuer'd Letters spight of intermission,
Which presently they read; on those contents
They summon'd vp their meiney, straight tooke Horse,
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer, gaue me cold lookes,
And meeting heere the other Messenger,
Whose welcome I perceiu'd had poison'd mine,
Being the very fellow which of late
Displaid so sawcily against your Highnesse,
Hauing more man then wit about me, drew;
He rais'd the house, with loud and coward cries,
Your Sonne and Daughter found this trespasse worth
The shame which heere it suffers
   Foole. Winters not gon yet, if the wil'd Geese fly that way,
Fathers that weare rags, do make their Children blind,
But Fathers that beare bags, shall see their children kind.
Fortune that arrant whore, nere turns the key toth' poore.
But for all this thou shalt haue as many Dolors for thy
Daughters, as thou canst tell in a yeare
   Lear. Oh how this Mother swels vp toward my heart!
Historica passio, downe thou climing sorrow,
Thy Elements below where is this Daughter?
  Kent. With the Earle Sir, here within
   Lear. Follow me not, stay here.
  Gen. Made you no more offence,
But what you speake of?
  Kent. None:
How chance the King comes with so small a number?
  Foole. And thou hadst beene set i'th' Stockes for that
question, thoud'st well deseru'd it
   Kent. Why Foole?
  Foole. Wee'l set thee to schoole to an Ant, to teach
thee ther's no labouring i'th' winter. All that follow their
noses, are led by their eyes, but blinde men, and there's
not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking;
let go thy hold when a great wheele runs downe a
hill, least it breake thy necke with following. But the
great one that goes vpward, let him draw thee after:
when a wiseman giues thee better counsell giue me mine
againe, I would haue none but knaues follow it, since a
Foole giues it.
That Sir, which serues and seekes for gaine,
And followes but for forme;
Will packe, when it begins to raine,
And leaue thee in the storme,
But I will tarry, the Foole will stay,
And let the wiseman flie:
The knaue turnes Foole that runnes away,
The Foole no knaue perdie.
Enter Lear, and Gloster] :
  Kent. Where learn'd you this Foole?
  Foole. Not i'th' Stocks Foole
   Lear. Deny to speake with me?
They are sicke, they are weary,
They haue trauail'd all the night? meere fetches,
The images of reuolt and flying off.
Fetch me a better answer
   Glo. My deere Lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
How vnremoueable and fixt he is
In his owne course
   Lear. Vengeance, Plague, Death, Confusion:
Fiery? What quality? Why Gloster, Gloster,
I'ld speake with the Duke of Cornewall, and his wife
   Glo. Well my good Lord, I haue inform'd them so
   Lear. Inform'd them? Do'st thou vnderstand me man
   Glo. I my good Lord
   Lear. The King would speake with Cornwall,
The deere Father
Would with his Daughter speake, commands, tends, seruice,
Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood:
Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that-
No, but not yet, may be he is not well,
Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
Whereto our health is bound, we are not our selues,
When Nature being opprest, commands the mind
To suffer with the body; Ile forbeare,
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit,
For the sound man. Death on my state: wherefore
Should he sit heere? This act perswades me,
That this remotion of the Duke and her
Is practise only. Giue me my Seruant forth;
Goe tell the Duke, and's wife, Il'd speake with them:
Now, presently: bid them come forth and heare me,
Or at their Chamber doore Ile beate the Drum,
Till it crie sleepe to death
   Glo. I would haue all well betwixt you.
  Lear. Oh me my heart! My rising heart! But downe
   Foole. Cry to it Nunckle, as the Cockney did to the
Eeles, when she put 'em i'th' Paste aliue, she knapt 'em
o'th' coxcombs with a sticke, and cryed downe wantons,
downe; 'twas her Brother, that in pure kindnesse to his
Horse buttered his Hay.
Enter Cornewall, Regan, Gloster, Seruants.
  Lear. Good morrow to you both
   Corn. Haile to your Grace.
Kent here set at liberty.
  Reg. I am glad to see your Highnesse
   Lear. Regan, I thinke you are. I know what reason
I haue to thinke so, if thou should'st not be glad,
I would diuorce me from thy Mother Tombe,
Sepulchring an Adultresse. O are you free?
Some other time for that. Beloued Regan,
Thy Sisters naught: oh Regan, she hath tied
Sharpe-tooth'd vnkindnesse, like a vulture heere,
I can scarce speake to thee, thou'lt not beleeue
With how deprau'd a quality. Oh Regan
   Reg. I pray you Sir, take patience, I haue hope
You lesse know how to value her desert,
Then she to scant her dutie
   Lear. Say? How is that?
  Reg. I cannot thinke my Sister in the least
Would faile her Obligation. If Sir perchance
She haue restrained the Riots of your Followres,
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As cleeres her from all blame
   Lear. My curses on her
   Reg. O Sir, you are old,
Nature in you stands on the very Verge
Of his confine: you should be rul'd, and led
By some discretion, that discernes your state
Better then you your selfe: therefore I pray you,
That to our Sister, you do make returne,
Say you haue wrong'd her
   Lear. Aske her forgiuenesse?
Do you but marke how this becomes the house?
Deere daughter, I confesse that I am old;
Age is vnnecessary: on my knees I begge,
That you'l vouchsafe me Rayment, Bed, and Food
   Reg. Good Sir, no more: these are vnsightly trickes:
Returne you to my Sister
   Lear. Neuer Regan:
She hath abated me of halfe my Traine;
Look'd blacke vpon me, strooke me with her Tongue
Most Serpent-like, vpon the very Heart.
All the stor'd Vengeances of Heauen, fall
On her ingratefull top: strike her yong bones
You taking Ayres, with Lamenesse
   Corn. Fye sir, fie
   Le. You nimble Lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornfull eyes: Infect her Beauty,
You Fen-suck'd Fogges, drawne by the powrfull Sunne,
To fall, and blister
   Reg. O the blest Gods!
So will you wish on me, when the rash moode is on
   Lear. No Regan, thou shalt neuer haue my curse:
Thy tender-hefted Nature shall not giue
Thee o're to harshnesse: Her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burne. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my Traine,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my comming in. Thou better know'st
The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood,
Effects of Curtesie, dues of Gratitude:
Thy halfe o'th' Kingdome hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd
   Reg. Good Sir, to'th' purpose.
Tucket within.
  Lear. Who put my man i'th' Stockes?
Enter Steward.
  Corn. What Trumpet's that?
  Reg. I know't, my Sisters: this approues her Letter,
That she would soone be heere. Is your Lady come?
  Lear. This is a Slaue, whose easie borrowed pride
Dwels in the sickly grace of her he followes.
Out Varlet, from my sight
   Corn. What meanes your Grace?
Enter Gonerill.
  Lear. Who stockt my Seruant? Regan, I haue good hope
Thou did'st not know on't.
Who comes here? O Heauens!
If you do loue old men; if your sweet sway
Allow Obedience; if you your selues are old,
Make it your cause: Send downe, and take my part.
Art not asham'd to looke vpon this Beard?
O Regan, will you take her by the hand?
  Gon. Why not by'th' hand Sir? How haue I offended?
All's not offence that indiscretion findes,
And dotage termes so
   Lear. O sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold?
How came my man i'th' Stockes?
  Corn. I set him there, Sir: but his owne Disorders
Deseru'd much lesse aduancement
   Lear. You? Did you?
  Reg. I pray you Father being weake, seeme so.
If till the expiration of your Moneth
You will returne and soiourne with my Sister,
Dismissing halfe your traine, come then to me,
I am now from home, and out of that prouision
Which shall be needfull for your entertainement
   Lear. Returne to her? and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abiure all roofes, and chuse
To wage against the enmity oth' ayre,
To be a Comrade with the Wolfe, and Owle,
Necessities sharpe pinch. Returne with her?
Why the hot-bloodied France, that dowerlesse tooke
Our yongest borne, I could as well be brought
To knee his Throne, and Squire-like pension beg,
To keepe base life a foote; returne with her?
Perswade me rather to be slaue and sumpter
To this detested groome
   Gon. At your choice Sir
   Lear. I prythee Daughter do not make me mad,
I will not trouble thee my Child; farewell:
Wee'l no more meete, no more see one another.
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my Daughter,
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a Byle,
A plague sore, or imbossed Carbuncle
In my corrupted blood. But Ile not chide thee,
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it,
I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoote,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-iudging Ioue,
Mend when thou can'st, be better at thy leisure,
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
I and my hundred Knights
   Reg. Not altogether so,
I look'd not for you yet, nor am prouided
For your fit welcome, giue eare Sir to my Sister,
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to thinke you old, and so,
But she knowes what she doe's
   Lear. Is this well spoken?
  Reg. I dare auouch it Sir, what fifty Followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many? Sith that both charge and danger,
Speake 'gainst so great a number? How in one house
Should many people, vnder two commands
Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible
   Gon. Why might not you my Lord, receiue attendance
From those that she cals Seruants, or from mine?
  Reg. Why not my Lord?
If then they chanc'd to slacke ye,
We could comptroll them; if you will come to me,
(For now I spie a danger) I entreate you
To bring but fiue and twentie, to no more
Will I giue place or notice
   Lear. I gaue you all
   Reg. And in good time you gaue it
   Lear. Made you my Guardians, my Depositaries,
But kept a reseruation to be followed
With such a number? What, must I come to you
With fiue and twenty? Regan, said you so?
  Reg. And speak't againe my Lord, no more with me
   Lea. Those wicked Creatures yet do look wel fauor'd
When others are more wicked, not being the worst
Stands in some ranke of praise, Ile go with thee,
Thy fifty yet doth double fiue and twenty,
And thou art twice her Loue
   Gon. Heare me my Lord;
What need you fiue and twenty? Ten? Or fiue?
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Haue a command to tend you?
  Reg. What need one?
  Lear. O reason not the need: our basest Beggers
Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not Nature, more then Nature needs:
Mans life is cheape as Beastes. Thou art a Lady;
If onely to go warme were gorgeous,
Why Nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need:
You Heauens, giue me that patience, patience I need,
You see me heere (you Gods) a poore old man,
As full of griefe as age, wretched in both,
If it be you that stirres these Daughters hearts
Against their Father, foole me not so much,
To beare it tamely: touch me with Noble anger,
And let not womens weapons, water drops,
Staine my mans cheekes. No you vnnaturall Hags,
I will haue such reuenges on you both,
That all the world shall- I will do such things,
What they are yet, I know not, but they shalbe
The terrors of the earth? you thinke Ile weepe,
No, Ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping.
Storme and Tempest.
But this heart shal break into a hundred thousand flawes
Or ere Ile weepe; O Foole, I shall go mad.
  Corn. Let vs withdraw, 'twill be a Storme
   Reg. This house is little, the old man and's people,
Cannot be well bestow'd
   Gon. 'Tis his owne blame hath put himselfe from rest,
And must needs taste his folly
   Reg. For his particular, Ile receiue him gladly,
But not one follower
   Gon. So am I purpos'd,
Where is my Lord of Gloster?
Enter Gloster.
  Corn. Followed the old man forth, he is return'd
   Glo. The King is in high rage
   Corn. Whether is he going?
  Glo. He cals to Horse, but will I know not whether
   Corn. 'Tis best to giue him way, he leads himselfe
   Gon. My Lord, entreate him by no meanes to stay
   Glo. Alacke the night comes on, and the high windes
Do sorely ruffle, for many Miles about
There's scarce a Bush
   Reg. O Sir, to wilfull men,
The iniuries that they themselues procure,
Must be their Schoole-Masters: shut vp your doores,
He is attended with a desperate traine,
And what they may incense him too, being apt,
To haue his eare abus'd, wisedome bids feare
   Cor. Shut vp your doores my Lord, 'tis a wil'd night,
My Regan counsels well: come out oth' storme.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Storme still. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, seuerally.
  Kent. Who's there besides foule weather?
  Gen. One minded like the weather, most vnquietly
   Kent. I know you: Where's the King?
  Gent. Contending with the fretfull Elements;
Bids the winde blow the Earth into the Sea,
Or swell the curled Waters 'boue the Maine,
That things might change, or cease
   Kent. But who is with him?
  Gent. None but the Foole, who labours to out-iest
His heart-strooke iniuries
   Kent. Sir, I do know you,
And dare vpon the warrant of my note
Commend a deere thing to you. There is diuision
(Although as yet the face of it is couer'd
With mutuall cunning) 'twixt Albany, and Cornwall:
Who haue, as who haue not, that their great Starres
Thron'd and set high; Seruants, who seeme no lesse,
Which are to France the Spies and Speculations
Intelligent of our State. What hath bin seene,
Either in snuffes, and packings of the Dukes,
Or the hard Reine which both of them hath borne
Against the old kinde King; or something deeper,
Whereof (perchance) these are but furnishings
   Gent. I will talke further with you
   Kent. No, do not:
For confirmation that I am much more
Then my out-wall; open this Purse, and take
What it containes. If you shall see Cordelia,
(As feare not but you shall) shew her this Ring,
And she will tell you who that Fellow is
That yet you do not know. Fye on this Storme,
I will go seeke the King
   Gent. Giue me your hand,
Haue you no more to say?
  Kent. Few words, but to effect more then all yet;
That when we haue found the King, in which your pain
That way, Ile this: He that first lights on him,
Holla the other.
Scena Secunda.
Storme still. Enter Lear, and Foole.
  Lear. Blow windes, & crack your cheeks; Rage, blow
You Cataracts, and Hyrricano's spout,
Till you haue drench'd our Steeples, drown the Cockes.
You Sulph'rous and Thought-executing Fires,
Vaunt-curriors of Oake-cleauing Thunder-bolts,
Sindge my white head. And thou all-shaking Thunder,
Strike flat the thicke Rotundity o'th' world,
Cracke Natures moulds, all germaines spill at once
That makes ingratefull Man
   Foole. O Nunkle, Court holy-water in a dry house, is
better then this Rain-water out o' doore. Good Nunkle,
in, aske thy Daughters blessing, heere's a night pitties
neither Wisemen, nor Fooles
   Lear. Rumble thy belly full: spit Fire, spowt Raine:
Nor Raine, Winde, Thunder, Fire are my Daughters;
I taxe not you, you Elements with vnkindnesse.
I neuer gaue you Kingdome, call'd you Children;
You owe me no subscription. Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure. Heere I stand your Slaue,
A poore, infirme, weake, and dispis'd old man:
But yet I call you Seruile Ministers,
That will with two pernicious Daughters ioyne
Your high-engender'd Battailes, 'gainst a head
So old, and white as this. O, ho! 'tis foule
   Foole. He that has a house to put's head in, has a good
The Codpiece that will house, before the head has any;
The Head, and he shall Lowse: so Beggers marry many.
The man y makes his Toe, what he his Hart shold make,
Shall of a Corne cry woe, and turne his sleepe to wake.
For there was neuer yet faire woman, but shee made
mouthes in a glasse.
   Lear. No, I will be the patterne of all patience,
I will say nothing
   Kent. Who's there?
  Foole. Marry here's Grace, and a Codpiece, that's a
Wiseman, and a Foole
   Kent. Alas Sir are you here? Things that loue night,
Loue not such nights as these: The wrathfull Skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the darke
And make them keepe their Caues: Since I was man,
Such sheets of Fire, such bursts of horrid Thunder,
Such groanes of roaring Winde, and Raine, I neuer
Remember to haue heard. Mans Nature cannot carry
Th' affliction, nor the feare
   Lear. Let the great Goddes
That keepe this dreadfull pudder o're our heads,
Finde out their enemies now. Tremble thou Wretch,
That hast within thee vndivulged Crimes
Vnwhipt of Iustice. Hide thee, thou Bloudy hand;
Thou Periur'd, and thou Simular of Vertue
That art Incestuous. Caytiffe, to peeces shake
That vnder couert, and conuenient seeming
Ha's practis'd on mans life. Close pent-vp guilts,
Riue your concealing Continents, and cry
These dreadfull Summoners grace. I am a man,
More sinn'd against, then sinning
   Kent. Alacke, bare-headed?
Gracious my Lord, hard by heere is a Houell,
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the Tempest:
Repose you there, while I to this hard house,
(More harder then the stones whereof 'tis rais'd,
Which euen but now, demanding after you,
Deny'd me to come in) returne, and force
Their scanted curtesie
   Lear. My wits begin to turne.
Come on my boy. How dost my boy? Art cold?
I am cold my selfe. Where is this straw, my Fellow?
The Art of our Necessities is strange,
And can make vilde things precious. Come, your Houel;
Poore Foole, and Knaue, I haue one part in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee
   Foole. He that has and a little-tyne wit,
With heigh-ho, the Winde and the Raine,
Must make content with his Fortunes fit,
Though the Raine it raineth euery day
   Le. True Boy: Come bring vs to this Houell.
  Foole. This is a braue night to coole a Curtizan:
Ile speake a Prophesie ere I go:
When Priests are more in word, then matter;
When Brewers marre their Malt with water;
When Nobles are their Taylors Tutors,
No Heretiques burn'd, but wenches Sutors;
When euery Case in Law, is right;
No Squire in debt, nor no poore Knight;
When Slanders do not liue in Tongues;
Nor Cut-purses come not to throngs;
When Vsurers tell their Gold i'th' Field,
And Baudes, and whores, do Churches build,
Then shal the Realme of Albion, come to great confusion:
Then comes the time, who liues to see't,
That going shalbe vs'd with feet.
This prophecie Merlin shall make, for I liue before his time.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Gloster, and Edmund.
  Glo. Alacke, alacke Edmund, I like not this vnnaturall
dealing; when I desired their leaue that I might pity him,
they tooke from me the vse of mine owne house, charg'd
me on paine of perpetuall displeasure, neither to speake
of him, entreat for him, or any way sustaine him
   Bast. Most sauage and vnnaturall
   Glo. Go too; say you nothing. There is diuision betweene
the Dukes, and a worsse matter then that: I haue
receiued a Letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken,
I haue lock'd the Letter in my Closset, these iniuries the
King now beares, will be reuenged home; ther is part of
a Power already footed, we must incline to the King, I
will looke him, and priuily relieue him; goe you and
maintaine talke with the Duke, that my charity be not of
him perceiued; If he aske for me, I am ill, and gone to
bed, if I die for it, (as no lesse is threatned me) the King
my old Master must be relieued. There is strange things
toward Edmund, pray you be carefull.
  Bast. This Curtesie forbid thee, shall the Duke
Instantly know, and of that Letter too;
This seemes a faire deseruing, and must draw me
That which my Father looses: no lesse then all,
The yonger rises, when the old doth fall.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole.
  Kent. Here is the place my Lord, good my Lord enter,
The tirrany of the open night's too rough
For Nature to endure.
Storme still
  Lear. Let me alone
   Kent. Good my Lord enter heere
   Lear. Wilt breake my heart?
  Kent. I had rather breake mine owne,
Good my Lord enter
   Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storme
Inuades vs to the skin so: 'tis to thee,
But where the greater malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a Beare,
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea,
Thou'dst meete the Beare i'th' mouth, when the mind's free,
The bodies delicate: the tempest in my mind,
Doth from my sences take all feeling else,
Saue what beates there, Filliall ingratitude,
Is it not as this mouth should teare this hand
For lifting food too't? But I will punish home;
No, I will weepe no more; in such a night,
To shut me out? Poure on, I will endure:
In such a night as this? O Regan, Gonerill,
Your old kind Father, whose franke heart gaue all,
O that way madnesse lies, let me shun that:
No more of that
   Kent. Good my Lord enter here
   Lear. Prythee go in thy selfe, seeke thine owne ease,
This tempest will not giue me leaue to ponder
On things would hurt me more, but Ile goe in,
In Boy, go first. You houselesse pouertie,
Nay get thee in; Ile pray, and then Ile sleepe.
Poore naked wretches, where so ere you are
That bide the pelting of this pittilesse storme,
How shall your House-lesse heads, and vnfed sides,
Your lop'd, and window'd raggednesse defend you
From seasons such as these? O I haue tane
Too little care of this: Take Physicke, Pompe,
Expose thy selfe to feele what wretches feele,
That thou maist shake the superflux to them,
And shew the Heauens more iust.
Enter Edgar, and Foole.
  Edg. Fathom, and halfe, Fathom and halfe; poore Tom
   Foole. Come not in heere Nuncle, here's a spirit, helpe
me, helpe me
   Kent. Giue my thy hand, who's there?
  Foole. A spirite, a spirite, he sayes his name's poore
   Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i'th'
straw? Come forth
   Edg. Away, the foule Fiend followes me, through the
sharpe Hauthorne blow the windes. Humh, goe to thy
bed and warme thee
   Lear. Did'st thou giue all to thy Daughters? And art
thou come to this?
  Edgar. Who giues any thing to poore Tom? Whom
the foule fiend hath led through Fire, and through Flame,
through Sword, and Whirle-Poole, o're Bog, and Quagmire,
that hath laid Kniues vnder his Pillow, and Halters
in his Pue, set Rats-bane by his Porredge, made him
Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, ouer foure
incht Bridges, to course his owne shadow for a Traitor.
Blisse thy fiue Wits, Toms a cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de,
blisse thee from Whirle-Windes, Starre-blasting, and taking,
do poore Tom some charitie, whom the foule Fiend
vexes. There could I haue him now, and there, and there
againe, and there.
Storme still.
  Lear. Ha's his Daughters brought him to this passe?
Could'st thou saue nothing? Would'st thou giue 'em all?
  Foole. Nay, he reseru'd a Blanket, else we had bin all
   Lea. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous ayre
Hang fated o're mens faults, light on thy Daughters
   Kent. He hath no Daughters Sir
   Lear. Death Traitor, nothing could haue subdu'd Nature
To such a lownesse, but his vnkind Daughters.
Is it the fashion, that discarded Fathers,
Should haue thus little mercy on their flesh:
Iudicious punishment, 'twas this flesh begot
Those Pelicane Daughters
   Edg. Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill, alow: alow, loo, loo
   Foole. This cold night will turne vs all to Fooles, and
   Edgar. Take heed o'th' foule Fiend, obey thy Parents,
keepe thy words Iustice, sweare not, commit not,
with mans sworne Spouse: set not thy Sweet-heart on
proud array. Tom's a cold
   Lear. What hast thou bin?
  Edg. A Seruingman? Proud in heart, and minde; that
curl'd my haire, wore Gloues in my cap; seru'd the Lust
of my Mistris heart, and did the acte of darkenesse with
her. Swore as many Oathes, as I spake words, & broke
them in the sweet face of Heauen. One, that slept in the
contriuing of Lust, and wak'd to doe it. Wine lou'd I
deerely, Dice deerely; and in Woman, out-Paramour'd
the Turke. False of heart, light of eare, bloody of hand;
Hog in sloth, Foxe in stealth, Wolfe in greedinesse, Dog
in madnes, Lyon in prey. Let not the creaking of shooes,
Nor the rustling of Silkes, betray thy poore heart to woman.
Keepe thy foote out of Brothels, thy hand out of
Plackets, thy pen from Lenders Bookes, and defye the
foule Fiend. Still through the Hauthorne blowes the
cold winde: Sayes suum, mun, nonny, Dolphin my Boy,
Boy Sesey: let him trot by.
Storme still.
  Lear. Thou wert better in a Graue, then to answere
with thy vncouer'd body, this extremitie of the Skies. Is
man no more then this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st
the Worme no Silke; the Beast, no Hide; the Sheepe, no
Wooll; the Cat, no perfume. Ha? Here's three on's are
sophisticated. Thou art the thing it selfe; vnaccommodated
man, is no more but such a poore, bare, forked Animall
as thou art. Off, off you Lendings: Come, vnbutton
Enter Gloucester, with a Torch.
  Foole. Prythee Nunckle be contented, 'tis a naughtie
night to swimme in. Now a little fire in a wilde Field,
were like an old Letchers heart, a small spark, all the rest
on's body, cold: Looke, heere comes a walking fire
   Edg. This is the foule Flibbertigibbet; hee begins at
Curfew, and walkes at first Cocke: Hee giues the Web
and the Pin, squints the eye, and makes the Hare-lippe;
Mildewes the white Wheate, and hurts the poore Creature
Swithold footed thrice the old,
He met the Night-Mare, and her nine-fold;
Bid her a-light, and her troth-plight,
And aroynt thee Witch, aroynt thee
   Kent. How fares your Grace?
  Lear. What's he?
  Kent. Who's there? What is't you seeke?
  Glou. What are you there? Your Names?
  Edg. Poore Tom, that eates the swimming Frog, the
Toad, the Tod-pole, the wall-Neut, and the water: that
in the furie of his heart, when the foule Fiend rages, eats
Cow-dung for Sallets; swallowes the old Rat, and the
ditch-Dogge; drinkes the green Mantle of the standing
Poole: who is whipt from Tything to Tything, and
stockt, punish'd, and imprison'd: who hath three Suites
to his backe, sixe shirts to his body:
Horse to ride, and weapon to weare:
But Mice, and Rats, and such small Deare,
Haue bin Toms food, for seuen long yeare:
Beware my Follower. Peace Smulkin, peace thou Fiend
   Glou. What, hath your Grace no better company?
  Edg. The Prince of Darkenesse is a Gentleman. Modo
he's call'd, and Mahu
   Glou. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is growne so
vilde, that it doth hate what gets it
   Edg. Poore Tom's a cold
   Glou. Go in with me; my duty cannot suffer
T' obey in all your daughters hard commands:
Though their Iniunction be to barre my doores,
And let this Tyrannous night take hold vpon you,
Yet haue I ventured to come seeke you out,
And bring you where both fire, and food is ready
   Lear. First let me talke with this Philosopher,
What is the cause of Thunder?
  Kent. Good my Lord take his offer,
Go into th' house
   Lear. Ile talke a word with this same lerned Theban:
What is your study?
  Edg. How to preuent the Fiend, and to kill Vermine
   Lear. Let me aske you one word in priuate
   Kent. Importune him once more to go my Lord,
His wits begin t' vnsettle
   Glou. Canst thou blame him?
His Daughters seeke his death: Ah, that good Kent,
He said it would be thus: poore banish'd man:
Thou sayest the King growes mad, Ile tell thee Friend
I am almost mad my selfe. I had a Sonne,
Now out-law'd from my blood: he sought my life
But lately: very late: I lou'd him (Friend)
No Father his Sonne deerer: true to tell thee,
The greefe hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this?
I do beseech your grace
   Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:
Noble Philosopher, your company
   Edg. Tom's a cold
   Glou. In fellow there, into th' Houel; keep thee warm
   Lear. Come, let's in all
   Kent. This way, my Lord
   Lear. With him;
I will keepe still with my Philosopher
   Kent. Good my Lord, sooth him:
Let him take the Fellow
   Glou. Take him you on
   Kent. Sirra, come on: go along with vs
   Lear. Come, good Athenian
   Glou. No words, no words, hush
   Edg. Childe Rowland to the darke Tower came,
His word was still, fie, foh, and fumme,
I smell the blood of a Brittish man.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.
  Corn. I will haue my reuenge, ere I depart his house
   Bast. How my Lord, I may be censured, that Nature
thus giues way to Loyaltie, something feares mee to
   Cornw. I now perceiue, it was not altogether your
Brothers euill disposition made him seeke his death: but
a prouoking merit set a-worke by a reprouable badnesse
   Bast. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent
to be iust? This is the Letter which hee spoake of;
which approues him an intelligent partie to the aduantages
of France. O Heauens! that this Treason were not;
or not I the detector
   Corn. Go with me to the Dutchesse
   Bast. If the matter of this Paper be certain, you haue
mighty businesse in hand
   Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earle of Gloucester:
seeke out where thy Father is, that hee may bee
ready for our apprehension
   Bast. If I finde him comforting the King, it will stuffe
his suspition more fully. I will perseuer in my course of
Loyalty, though the conflict be sore betweene that, and
   Corn. I will lay trust vpon thee: and thou shalt finde
a deere Father in my loue.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Kent, and Gloucester.
  Glou. Heere is better then the open ayre, take it thankfully:
I will peece out the comfort with what addition I
can: I will not be long from you.
  Kent. All the powre of his wits, haue giuen way to his
impatience: the Gods reward your kindnesse.
Enter Lear, Edgar, and Foole.
  Edg. Fraterretto cals me, and tells me Nero is an Angler
in the Lake of Darknesse: pray Innocent, and beware
the foule Fiend
   Foole. Prythee Nunkle tell me, whether a madman be
a Gentleman, or a Yeoman
   Lear. A King, a King
   Foole. No, he's a Yeoman, that ha's a Gentleman to
his Sonne: for hee's a mad Yeoman that sees his Sonne a
Gentleman before him
   Lear. To haue a thousand with red burning spits
Come hizzing in vpon 'em
   Edg. Blesse thy fiue wits
   Kent. O pitty: Sir, where is the patience now
That you so oft haue boasted to retaine?
  Edg. My teares begin to take his part so much,
They marre my counterfetting
   Lear. The little dogges, and all;
Trey, Blanch, and Sweet-heart: see, they barke at me
   Edg. Tom, will throw his head at them: Auaunt you
Curres, be thy mouth or blacke or white:
Tooth that poysons if it bite:
Mastiffe, Grey-hound, Mongrill, Grim,
Hound or Spaniell, Brache, or Hym:
Or Bobtaile tight, or Troudle taile,
Tom will make him weepe and waile,
For with throwing thus my head;
Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled.
Do, de, de, de: sese: Come, march to Wakes and Fayres,
And Market Townes: poore Tom thy horne is dry,
  Lear. Then let them Anatomize Regan: See what
breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in Nature that
make these hard-hearts. You sir, I entertaine for one of
my hundred; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments.
You will say they are Persian; but let them bee
Enter Gloster.
  Kent. Now good my Lord, lye heere, and rest awhile
   Lear. Make no noise, make no noise, draw the Curtaines:
so, so, wee'l go to Supper i'th' morning
   Foole. And Ile go to bed at noone
   Glou. Come hither Friend:
Where is the King my Master?
  Kent. Here Sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gon
   Glou. Good friend, I prythee take him in thy armes;
I haue ore-heard a plot of death vpon him:
There is a Litter ready, lay him in't,
And driue toward Douer friend, where thou shalt meete
Both welcome, and protection. Take vp thy Master,
If thou should'st dally halfe an houre, his life
With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured losse. Take vp, take vp,
And follow me, that will to some prouision
Giue thee quicke conduct. Come, come, away.
Scena Septima.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gonerill, Bastard, and Seruants.
  Corn. Poste speedily to my Lord your husband, shew
him this Letter, the Army of France is landed: seeke out
the Traitor Glouster
   Reg. Hang him instantly
   Gon. Plucke out his eyes
   Corn. Leaue him to my displeasure. Edmond, keepe
you our Sister company: the reuenges wee are bound to
take vppon your Traitorous Father, are not fit for your
beholding. Aduice the Duke where you are going, to a
most festinate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our
Postes shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt vs. Farewell
deere Sister, farewell my Lord of Glouster.
Enter Steward.
How now? Where's the King?
  Stew. My Lord of Glouster hath conuey'd him hence
Some fiue or six and thirty of his Knights
Hot Questrists after him, met him at gate,
Who, with some other of the Lords, dependants,
Are gone with him toward Douer; where they boast
To haue well armed Friends
   Corn. Get horses for your Mistris
   Gon. Farewell sweet Lord, and Sister.
  Corn. Edmund farewell: go seek the Traitor Gloster,
Pinnion him like a Theefe, bring him before vs:
Though well we may not passe vpon his life
Without the forme of Iustice: yet our power
Shall do a curt'sie to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not comptroll.
Enter Gloucester, and Seruants.
Who's there? the Traitor?
  Reg. Ingratefull Fox, 'tis he
   Corn. Binde fast his corky armes
   Glou. What meanes your Graces?
Good my Friends consider you are my Ghests:
Do me no foule play, Friends
   Corn. Binde him I say
   Reg. Hard, hard: O filthy Traitor
   Glou. Vnmercifull Lady, as you are, I'me none
   Corn. To this Chaire binde him,
Villaine, thou shalt finde
   Glou. By the kinde Gods, 'tis most ignobly done
To plucke me by the Beard
   Reg. So white, and such a Traitor?
  Glou. Naughty Ladie,
These haires which thou dost rauish from my chin
Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your Host,
With Robbers hands, my hospitable fauours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
  Corn. Come Sir.
What Letters had you late from France?
  Reg. Be simple answer'd, for we know the truth
   Corn. And what confederacie haue you with the Traitors,
late footed in the Kingdome?
  Reg. To whose hands
You haue sent the Lunaticke King: Speake
   Glou. I haue a Letter guessingly set downe
Which came from one that's of a newtrall heart,
And not from one oppos'd
   Corn. Cunning
   Reg. And false
   Corn. Where hast thou sent the King?
  Glou. To Douer
   Reg. Wherefore to Douer?
Was't thou not charg'd at perill
   Corn. Wherefore to Douer? Let him answer that
   Glou. I am tyed to'th' Stake,
And I must stand the Course
   Reg. Wherefore to Douer?
  Glou. Because I would not see thy cruell Nailes
Plucke out his poore old eyes: nor thy fierce Sister,
In his Annointed flesh, sticke boarish phangs.
The Sea, with such a storme as his bare head,
In Hell-blacke-night indur'd, would haue buoy'd vp
And quench'd the Stelled fires:
Yet poore old heart, he holpe the Heauens to raine.
If Wolues had at thy Gate howl'd that sterne time,
Thou should'st haue said, good Porter turne the Key:
All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see
The winged Vengeance ouertake such Children
   Corn. See't shalt thou neuer. Fellowes hold y Chaire,
Vpon these eyes of thine, Ile set my foote
   Glou. He that will thinke to liue, till he be old,
Giue me some helpe. - O cruell! O you Gods
   Reg. One side will mocke another: Th' other too
   Corn. If you see vengeance
   Seru. Hold your hand, my Lord:
I haue seru'd you euer since I was a Childe:
But better seruice haue I neuer done you,
Then now to bid you hold
   Reg. How now, you dogge?
  Ser. If you did weare a beard vpon your chin,
I'ld shake it on this quarrell. What do you meane?
  Corn. My Villaine?
  Seru. Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger
   Reg. Giue me thy Sword. A pezant stand vp thus?
  Ser. Oh I am slaine: my Lord, you haue one eye left
To see some mischefe on him. Oh
   Corn. Lest it see more, preuent it; Out vilde gelly:
Where is thy luster now?
  Glou. All darke and comfortlesse?
Where's my Sonne Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle all the sparkes of Nature
To quit this horrid acte
   Reg. Out treacherous Villaine,
Thou call'st on him, that hates thee. It was he
That made the ouerture of thy Treasons to vs:
Who is too good to pitty thee
   Glou. O my Follies! then Edgar was abus'd,
Kinde Gods, forgiue me that, and prosper him
   Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
His way to Douer.
Exit with Glouster.
How is't my Lord? How looke you?
  Corn. I haue receiu'd a hurt: Follow me Lady;
Turne out that eyelesse Villaine: throw this Slaue
Vpon the Dunghill: Regan, I bleed apace,
Vntimely comes this hurt. Giue me your arme.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Edgar.
  Edg. Yet better thus, and knowne to be contemn'd,
Then still contemn'd and flatter'd, to be worst:
The lowest, and most deiected thing of Fortune,
Stands still in esperance, liues not in feare:
The lamentable change is from the best,
The worst returnes to laughter. Welcome then,
Thou vnsubstantiall ayre that I embrace:
The Wretch that thou hast blowne vnto the worst,
Owes nothing to thy blasts.
Enter Glouster, and an Oldman.
But who comes heere? My Father poorely led?
World, World, O world!
But that thy strange mutations make vs hate thee,
Life would not yeelde to age
   Oldm. O my good Lord, I haue bene your Tenant,
And your Fathers Tenant, these fourescore yeares
   Glou. Away, get thee away: good Friend be gone,
Thy comforts can do me no good at all,
Thee, they may hurt
   Oldm. You cannot see your way
   Glou. I haue no way, and therefore want no eyes:
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seene,
Our meanes secure vs, and our meere defects
Proue our Commodities. Oh deere Sonne Edgar,
The food of thy abused Fathers wrath:
Might I but liue to see thee in my touch,
I'ld say I had eyes againe
   Oldm. How now? who's there?
  Edg. O Gods! Who is't can say I am at the worst?
I am worse then ere I was
   Old. 'Tis poore mad Tom
   Edg. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not,
So long as we can say this is the worst
   Oldm. Fellow, where goest?
  Glou. Is it a Beggar-man?
  Oldm. Madman, and beggar too
   Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I'th' last nights storme, I such a fellow saw;
Which made me thinke a Man, a Worme. My Sonne
Came then into my minde, and yet my minde
Was then scarse Friends with him.
I haue heard more since:
As Flies to wanton Boyes, are we to th' Gods,
They kill vs for their sport
   Edg. How should this be?
Bad is the Trade that must play Foole to sorrow,
Ang'ring it selfe, and others. Blesse thee Master
   Glou. Is that the naked Fellow?
  Oldm. I, my Lord
   Glou. Get thee away: If for my sake
Thou wilt ore-take vs hence a mile or twaine
I'th' way toward Douer, do it for ancient loue,
And bring some couering for this naked Soule,
Which Ile intreate to leade me
   Old. Alacke sir, he is mad
   Glou. 'Tis the times plague,
When Madmen leade the blinde:
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure:
Aboue the rest, be gone
   Oldm. Ile bring him the best Parrell that I haue
Come on't what will.
  Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow
   Edg. Poore Tom's a cold. I cannot daub it further
   Glou. Come hither fellow
   Edg. And yet I must:
Blesse thy sweete eyes, they bleede
   Glou. Know'st thou the way to Douer?
  Edg. Both style, and gate; Horseway, and foot-path:
poore Tom hath bin scarr'd out of his good wits. Blesse
thee good mans sonne, from the foule Fiend
   Glou. Here take this purse, y whom the heau'ns plagues
Haue humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
Makes thee the happier: Heauens deale so still:
Let the superfluous, and Lust-dieted man,
That slaues your ordinance, that will not see
Because he do's not feele, feele your powre quickly:
So distribution should vndoo excesse,
And each man haue enough. Dost thou know Douer?
  Edg. I Master
   Glou. There is a Cliffe, whose high and bending head
Lookes fearfully in the confined Deepe:
Bring me but to the very brimme of it,
And Ile repayre the misery thou do'st beare
With something rich about me: from that place,
I shall no leading neede
   Edg. Giue me thy arme;
Poore Tom shall leade thee.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Gonerill, Bastard, and Steward.
  Gon. Welcome my Lord. I meruell our mild husband
Not met vs on the way. Now, where's your Master?
  Stew. Madam within, but neuer man so chang'd:
I told him of the Army that was Landed:
He smil'd at it. I told him you were comming,
His answer was, the worse. Of Glosters Treachery,
And of the loyall Seruice of his Sonne
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot,
And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:
What most he should dislike, seemes pleasant to him;
What like, offensiue
   Gon. Then shall you go no further.
It is the Cowish terror of his spirit
That dares not vndertake: Hee'l not feele wrongs
Which tye him to an answer: our wishes on the way
May proue effects. Backe Edmond to my Brother,
Hasten his Musters, and conduct his powres.
I must change names at home, and giue the Distaffe
Into my Husbands hands. This trustie Seruant
Shall passe betweene vs: ere long you are like to heare
(If you dare venture in your owne behalfe)
A Mistresses command. Weare this; spare speech,
Decline your head. This kisse, if it durst speake
Would stretch thy Spirits vp into the ayre:
Conceiue, and fare thee well
   Bast. Yours in the rankes of death.
  Gon. My most deere Gloster.
Oh, the difference of man, and man,
To thee a Womans seruices are due,
My Foole vsurpes my body
   Stew. Madam, here come's my Lord.
Enter Albany.
  Gon. I haue beene worth the whistle
   Alb. Oh Gonerill,
You are not worth the dust which the rude winde
Blowes in your face
   Gon. Milke-Liuer'd man,
That bear'st a cheeke for blowes, a head for wrongs,
Who hast not in thy browes an eye-discerning
Thine Honor, from thy suffering
   Alb. See thy selfe diuell:
Proper deformitie seemes not in the Fiend
So horrid as in woman
   Gon. Oh vaine Foole.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwals dead,
Slaine by his Seruant, going to put out
The other eye of Glouster
   Alb. Glousters eyes
   Mes. A Seruant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
Oppos'd against the act: bending his Sword
To his great Master, who, threat-enrag'd
Flew on him, and among'st them fell'd him dead,
But not without that harmefull stroke, which since
Hath pluckt him after
   Alb. This shewes you are aboue
You Iustices, that these our neather crimes
So speedily can venge. But (O poore Glouster)
Lost he his other eye?
  Mes. Both, both, my Lord.
This Leter Madam, craues a speedy answer:
'Tis from your Sister
   Gon. One way I like this well.
But being widdow, and my Glouster with her,
May all the building in my fancie plucke
Vpon my hatefull life. Another way
The Newes is not so tart. Ile read, and answer
   Alb. Where was his Sonne,
When they did take his eyes?
  Mes. Come with my Lady hither
   Alb. He is not heere
   Mes. No my good Lord, I met him backe againe
   Alb. Knowes he the wickednesse?
  Mes. I my good Lord: 'twas he inform'd against him
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might haue the freer course
   Alb. Glouster, I liue
To thanke thee for the loue thou shew'dst the King,
And to reuenge thine eyes. Come hither Friend,
Tell me what more thou know'st.
Scena Tertia.
Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Gentlemen, and
  Cor. Alacke, 'tis he: why he was met euen now
As mad as the vext Sea, singing alowd.
Crown'd with ranke Fenitar, and furrow weeds,
With Hardokes, Hemlocke, Nettles, Cuckoo flowres,
Darnell, and all the idle weedes that grow
In our sustaining Corne. A Centery send forth;
Search euery Acre in the high-growne field,
And bring him to our eye. What can mans wisedome
In the restoring his bereaued Sense; he that helpes him,
Take all my outward worth
   Gent. There is meanes Madam:
Our foster Nurse of Nature, is repose,
The which he lackes: that to prouoke in him
Are many Simples operatiue, whose power
Will close the eye of Anguish
   Cord. All blest Secrets,
All you vnpublish'd Vertues of the earth
Spring with my teares; be aydant, and remediate
In the Goodmans desires: seeke, seeke for him,
Least his vngouern'd rage, dissolue the life
That wants the meanes to leade it.
Enter Messenger.
  Mes. Newes Madam,
The Brittish Powres are marching hitherward
   Cor. 'Tis knowne before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them. O deere Father,
It is thy businesse that I go about: Therfore great France
My mourning, and importun'd teares hath pittied:
No blowne Ambition doth our Armes incite,
But loue, deere loue, and our ag'd Fathers Rite:
Soone may I heare, and see him.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Regan, and Steward.
  Reg. But are my Brothers Powres set forth?
  Stew. I Madam
   Reg. Himselfe in person there?
  Stew. Madam with much ado:
Your Sister is the better Souldier
   Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your Lord at home?
  Stew. No Madam
   Reg. What might import my Sisters Letter to him?
  Stew. I know not, Lady
   Reg. Faith he is poasted hence on serious matter:
It was great ignorance, Glousters eyes being out
To let him liue. Where he arriues, he moues
All hearts against vs: Edmund, I thinke is gone
In pitty of his misery, to dispatch
His nighted life: Moreouer to descry
The strength o'th' Enemy
   Stew. I must needs after him, Madam, with my Letter
   Reg. Our troopes set forth to morrow, stay with vs:
The wayes are dangerous
   Stew. I may not Madam:
My Lady charg'd my dutie in this busines
   Reg. Why should she write to Edmund?
Might not you transport her purposes by word? Belike,
Some things, I know not what. Ile loue thee much
Let me vnseale the Letter
   Stew. Madam, I had rather-
  Reg. I know your Lady do's not loue her Husband,
I am sure of that: and at her late being heere,
She gaue strange Eliads, and most speaking lookes
To Noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosome
   Stew. I, Madam?
  Reg. I speake in vnderstanding: Y'are: I know't,
Therefore I do aduise you take this note:
My Lord is dead: Edmond, and I haue talk'd,
And more conuenient is he for my hand
Then for your Ladies: You may gather more:
If you do finde him, pray you giue him this;
And when your Mistris heares thus much from you,
I pray desire her call her wisedome to her.
So fare you well:
If you do chance to heare of that blinde Traitor,
Preferment fals on him, that cuts him off
   Stew. Would I could meet Madam, I should shew
What party I do follow
   Reg. Fare thee well.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Gloucester, and Edgar.
  Glou. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill?
  Edg. You do climbe vp it now. Look how we labor
   Glou. Me thinkes the ground is eeuen
   Edg. Horrible steepe.
Hearke, do you heare the Sea?
  Glou. No truly
   Edg. Why then your other Senses grow imperfect
By your eyes anguish
   Glou. So may it be indeed.
Me thinkes thy voyce is alter'd, and thou speak'st
In better phrase, and matter then thou did'st
   Edg. Y'are much deceiu'd: In nothing am I chang'd
But in my Garments
   Glou. Me thinkes y'are better spoken
   Edg. Come on Sir,
Heere's the place: stand still: how fearefull
And dizie 'tis, to cast ones eyes so low,
The Crowes and Choughes, that wing the midway ayre
Shew scarse so grosse as Beetles. Halfe way downe
Hangs one that gathers Sampire: dreadfull Trade:
Me thinkes he seemes no bigger then his head.
The Fishermen, that walk'd vpon the beach
Appeare like Mice: and yond tall Anchoring Barke,
Diminish'd to her Cocke: her Cocke, a Buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring Surge,
That on th' vnnumbred idle Pebble chafes
Cannot be heard so high. Ile looke no more,
Least my braine turne, and the deficient sight
Topple downe headlong
   Glou. Set me where you stand
   Edg. Giue me your hand:
You are now within a foote of th' extreme Verge:
For all beneath the Moone would I not leape vpright
   Glou. Let go my hand:
Heere Friend's another purse: in it, a Iewell
Well worth a poore mans taking. Fayries, and Gods
Prosper it with thee. Go thou further off,
Bid me farewell, and let me heare thee going
   Edg. Now fare ye well, good Sir
   Glou. With all my heart
   Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire,
Is done to cure it
   Glou. O you mighty Gods!
This world I do renounce, and in your sights
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If I could beare it longer, and not fall
To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes,
My snuffe, and loathed part of Nature should
Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him:
Now Fellow, fare thee well
   Edg. Gone Sir, farewell:
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The Treasury of life, when life it selfe
Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought,
By this had thought bin past. Aliue, or dead?
Hoa, you Sir: Friend, heare you Sir, speake:
Thus might he passe indeed: yet he reuiues.
What are you Sir?
  Glou. Away, and let me dye
   Edg. Had'st thou beene ought
But Gozemore, Feathers, Ayre,
(So many fathome downe precipitating)
Thou'dst shiuer'd like an Egge: but thou do'st breath:
Hast heauy substance, bleed'st not, speak'st, art sound,
Ten Masts at each, make not the altitude
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell,
Thy life's a Myracle. Speake yet againe
   Glou. But haue I falne, or no?
  Edg. From the dread Somnet of this Chalkie Bourne
Looke vp a height, the shrill-gorg'd Larke so farre
Cannot be seene, or heard: Do but looke vp
   Glou. Alacke, I haue no eyes:
Is wretchednesse depriu'd that benefit
To end it selfe by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
When misery could beguile the Tyrants rage,
And frustrate his proud will
   Edg. Giue me your arme.
Vp, so: How is't? Feele you your Legges? You stand
   Glou. Too well, too well
   Edg. This is aboue all strangenesse,
Vpon the crowne o'th' Cliffe. What thing was that
Which parted from you?
  Glou. A poore vnfortunate Beggar
   Edg. As I stood heere below, me thought his eyes
Were two full Moones: he had a thousand Noses,
Hornes wealk'd, and waued like the enraged Sea:
It was some Fiend: Therefore thou happy Father,
Thinke that the cleerest Gods, who make them Honors
Of mens Impossibilities, haue preserued thee
   Glou. I do remember now: henceforth Ile beare
Affliction, till it do cry out it selfe
Enough, enough, and dye. That thing you speake of,
I tooke it for a man: often 'twould say
The Fiend, the Fiend, he led me to that place
   Edgar. Beare free and patient thoughts.
But who comes heere?
The safer sense will ne're accommodate
His Master thus
   Lear. No, they cannot touch me for crying. I am the
King himselfe
   Edg. O thou side-piercing sight!
  Lear. Nature's aboue Art, in that respect. Ther's your
Presse-money. That fellow handles his bow, like a Crowkeeper:
draw mee a Cloathiers yard. Looke, looke, a
Mouse: peace, peace, this peece of toasted Cheese will
doo't. There's my Gauntlet, Ile proue it on a Gyant.
Bring vp the browne Billes. O well flowne Bird: i'th'
clout, i'th' clout: Hewgh. Giue the word
   Edg. Sweet Mariorum
   Lear. Passe
   Glou. I know that voice
   Lear. Ha! Gonerill with a white beard? They flatter'd
me like a Dogge, and told mee I had the white hayres in
my Beard, ere the blacke ones were there. To say I, and
no, to euery thing that I said: I, and no too, was no good
Diuinity. When the raine came to wet me once, and the
winde to make me chatter: when the Thunder would not
peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em
out. Go too, they are not men o'their words; they told
me, I was euery thing: 'Tis a Lye, I am not Agu-proofe
   Glou. The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember:
Is't not the King?
  Lear. I, euery inch a King.
When I do stare, see how the Subiect quakes.
I pardon that mans life. What was thy cause?
Adultery? thou shalt not dye: dye for Adultery?
No, the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly
Do's letcher in my sight. Let Copulation thriue:
For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his Father,
Then my Daughters got 'tweene the lawfull sheets.
Too't Luxury pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers.
Behold yond simpring Dame, whose face betweene her
Forkes presages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do's shake
the head to heare of pleasures name. The Fitchew, nor
the soyled Horse goes too't with a more riotous appetite:
Downe from the waste they are Centaures, though
Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit,
beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkenes,
there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench,
consumption: Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce
of Ciuet; good Apothecary sweeten my immagination:
There's money for thee
   Glou. O let me kisse that hand
   Lear. Let me wipe it first,
It smelles of Mortality
   Glou. O ruin'd peece of Nature, this great world
Shall so weare out to naught.
Do'st thou know me?
  Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough: dost thou
squiny at me? No, doe thy worst blinde Cupid, Ile not
loue. Reade thou this challenge, marke but the penning
   Glou. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not see
   Edg. I would not take this from report,
It is, and my heart breakes at it
   Lear. Read
   Glou. What with the Case of eyes?
  Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No eies in your
head, nor no mony in your purse? Your eyes are in a heauy
case, your purse in a light, yet you see how this world
   Glou. I see it feelingly
   Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how this world
goes, with no eyes. Looke with thine eares: See how
yond Iustice railes vpon yond simple theefe. Hearke in
thine eare: Change places, and handy-dandy, which is
the Iustice, which is the theefe: Thou hast seene a Farmers
dogge barke at a Beggar?
  Glou. I Sir
   Lear. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou
might'st behold the great image of Authoritie, a Dogg's
obey'd in Office. Thou, Rascall Beadle, hold thy bloody
hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy owne
backe, thou hotly lusts to vse her in that kind, for which
thou whip'st her. The Vsurer hangs the Cozener. Thorough
tatter'd cloathes great Vices do appeare: Robes,
and Furr'd gownes hide all. Place sinnes with Gold, and
the strong Lance of Iustice, hurtlesse breakes: Arme it in
ragges, a Pigmies straw do's pierce it. None do's offend,
none, I say none, Ile able 'em; take that of me my Friend,
who haue the power to seale th' accusers lips. Get thee
glasse-eyes, and like a scuruy Politician, seeme to see the
things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my
Bootes: harder, harder, so
   Edg. O matter, and impertinency mixt,
Reason in Madnesse
   Lear. If thou wilt weepe my Fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough, thy name is Glouster:
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the Ayre
We wawle, and cry. I will preach to thee: Marke
   Glou. Alacke, alacke the day
   Lear. When we are borne, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of Fooles. This a good blocke:
It were a delicate stratagem to shoo
A Troope of Horse with Felt: Ile put't in proofe,
And when I haue stolne vpon these Son in Lawes,
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
Enter a Gentleman.
  Gent. Oh heere he is: lay hand vpon him, Sir.
Your most deere Daughter-
  Lear. No rescue? What, a Prisoner? I am euen
The Naturall Foole of Fortune. Vse me well,
You shall haue ransome. Let me haue Surgeons,
I am cut to'th' Braines
   Gent. You shall haue any thing
   Lear. No Seconds? All my selfe?
Why, this would make a man, a man of Salt
To vse his eyes for Garden water-pots. I wil die brauely,
Like a smugge Bridegroome. What? I will be Iouiall:
Come, come, I am a King, Masters, know you that?
  Gent. You are a Royall one, and we obey you
   Lear. Then there's life in't. Come, and you get it,
You shall get it by running: Sa, sa, sa, sa.
  Gent. A sight most pittifull in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a King. Thou hast a Daughter
Who redeemes Nature from the generall curse
Which twaine haue brought her to
   Edg. Haile gentle Sir
   Gent. Sir, speed you: what's your will?
  Edg. Do you heare ought (Sir) of a Battell toward
   Gent. Most sure, and vulgar:
Euery one heares that, which can distinguish sound
   Edg. But by your fauour:
How neere's the other Army?
  Gent. Neere, and on speedy foot: the maine descry
Stands on the hourely thought
   Edg. I thanke you Sir, that's all
   Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here
Her Army is mou'd on.
  Edg. I thanke you Sir
   Glou. You euer gentle Gods, take my breath from me,
Let not my worser Spirit tempt me againe
To dye before you please
   Edg. Well pray you Father
   Glou. Now good sir, what are you?
  Edg. A most poore man, made tame to Fortunes blows
Who, by the Art of knowne, and feeling sorrowes,
Am pregnant to good pitty. Giue me your hand,
Ile leade you to some biding
   Glou. Heartie thankes:
The bountie, and the benizon of Heauen
To boot, and boot.
Enter Steward.
  Stew. A proclaim'd prize: most happie
That eyelesse head of thine, was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old, vnhappy Traitor,
Breefely thy selfe remember: the Sword is out
That must destroy thee
   Glou. Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough too't
   Stew. Wherefore, bold Pezant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd Traitor? Hence,
Least that th' infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arme
   Edg. Chill not let go Zir,
Without vurther 'casion
   Stew. Let go Slaue, or thou dy'st
   Edg. Good Gentleman goe your gate, and let poore
volke passe: and 'chud ha' bin zwaggerd out of my life,
'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis, by a vortnight. Nay,
come not neere th' old man: keepe out che vor' ye, or Ile
try whither your Costard, or my Ballow be the harder;
chill be plaine with you
   Stew. Out Dunghill
   Edg. Chill picke your teeth Zir: come, no matter vor
   Stew. Slaue thou hast slaine me: Villain, take my purse;
If euer thou wilt thriue, bury my bodie,
And giue the Letters which thou find'st about me,
To Edmund Earle of Glouster: seeke him out
Vpon the English party. Oh vntimely death, death
   Edg. I know thee well. A seruiceable Villaine,
As duteous to the vices of thy Mistris,
As badnesse would desire
   Glou. What, is he dead?
  Edg. Sit you downe Father: rest you.
Let's see these Pockets; the Letters that he speakes of
May be my Friends: hee's dead; I am onely sorry
He had no other Deathsman. Let vs see:
Leaue gentle waxe, and manners: blame vs not
To know our enemies mindes, we rip their hearts,
Their Papers is more lawfull.
Reads the Letter.
Let our reciprocall vowes be remembred. You haue manie
opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and
place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done. If hee
returne the Conqueror, then am I the Prisoner, and his bed, my
Gaole, from the loathed warmth whereof, deliuer me, and supply
the place for your Labour.
Your (Wife, so I would say) affectionate
Seruant. Gonerill.
Oh indistinguish'd space of Womans will,
A plot vpon her vertuous Husbands life,
And the exchange my Brother: heere, in the sands
Thee Ile rake vp, the poste vnsanctified
Of murtherous Letchers: and in the mature time,
With this vngracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well,
That of thy death, and businesse, I can tell
   Glou. The King is mad:
How stiffe is my vilde sense
That I stand vp, and haue ingenious feeling
Of my huge Sorrowes? Better I were distract,
So should my thoughts be seuer'd from my greefes,
Drum afarre off.
And woes, by wrong imaginations loose
The knowledge of themselues
   Edg. Giue me your hand:
Farre off methinkes I heare the beaten Drumme.
Come Father, Ile bestow you with a Friend.
Scaena Septima.
Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Gentleman.
  Cor. O thou good Kent,
How shall I liue and worke
To match thy goodnesse?
My life will be too short,
And euery measure faile me
   Kent. To be acknowledg'd Madam is ore-pai'd,
All my reports go with the modest truth,
Nor more, nor clipt, but so
   Cor. Be better suited,
These weedes are memories of those worser houres:
I prythee put them off
   Kent. Pardon deere Madam,
Yet to be knowne shortens my made intent,
My boone I make it, that you know me not,
Till time, and I, thinke meet
   Cor. Then be't so my good Lord:
How do's the King?
  Gent. Madam sleepes still
   Cor. O you kind Gods!
Cure this great breach in his abused Nature,
Th' vntun'd and iarring senses, O winde vp,
Of this childe-changed Father
   Gent. So please your Maiesty,
That we may wake the King, he hath slept long?
  Cor. Be gouern'd by your knowledge, and proceede
I'th' sway of your owne will: is he array'd?
Enter Lear in a chaire carried by Seruants]
  Gent. I Madam: in the heauinesse of sleepe,
We put fresh garments on him.
Be by good Madam when we do awake him,
I doubt of his Temperance
   Cor. O my deere Father, restauratian hang
Thy medicine on my lippes, and let this kisse
Repaire those violent harmes, that my two Sisters
Haue in thy Reuerence made
   Kent. Kind and deere Princesse
   Cor. Had you not bin their Father, these white flakes
Did challenge pitty of them. Was this a face
To be oppos'd against the iarring windes?
Mine Enemies dogge, though he had bit me,
Should haue stood that night against my fire,
And was't thou faine (poore Father)
To houell thee with Swine and Rogues forlorne,
In short, and musty straw? Alacke, alacke,
'Tis wonder that thy life and wits, at once
Had not concluded all. He wakes, speake to him
   Gen. Madam do you, 'tis fittest
   Cor. How does my Royall Lord?
How fares your Maiesty?
  Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o'th' graue,
Thou art a Soule in blisse, but I am bound
Vpon a wheele of fire, that mine owne teares
Do scal'd, like molten Lead
   Cor. Sir, do you know me?
  Lear. You are a spirit I know, where did you dye?
  Cor. Still, still, farre wide
   Gen. He's scarse awake,
Let him alone a while
   Lear. Where haue I bin?
Where am I? Faire day light?
I am mightily abus'd; I should eu'n dye with pitty
To see another thus. I know not what to say:
I will not sweare these are my hands: let's see,
I feele this pin pricke, would I were assur'd
Of my condition
   Cor. O looke vpon me Sir,
And hold your hand in benediction o're me,
You must not kneele
   Lear. Pray do not mocke me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourescore and vpward,
Not an houre more, nor lesse:
And to deale plainely,
I feare I am not in my perfect mind.
Me thinkes I should know you, and know this man,
Yet I am doubtfull: For I am mainely ignorant
What place this is: and all the skill I haue
Remembers not these garments: nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me,
For (as I am a man) I thinke this Lady
To be my childe Cordelia
   Cor. And so I am: I am
   Lear. Be your teares wet?
Yes faith: I pray weepe not,
If you haue poyson for me, I will drinke it:
I know you do not loue me, for your Sisters
Haue (as I do remember) done me wrong.
You haue some cause, they haue not
   Cor. No cause, no cause
   Lear. Am I in France?
  Kent. In your owne kingdome Sir
   Lear. Do not abuse me
   Gent. Be comforted good Madam, the great rage
You see is kill'd in him: desire him to go in,
Trouble him no more till further setling
   Cor. Wilt please your Highnesse walke?
  Lear. You must beare with me:
Pray you now forget, and forgiue,
I am old and foolish.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter with Drumme and Colours, Edmund, Regan. Gentlemen, and
  Bast. Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold,
Or whether since he is aduis'd by ought
To change the course, he's full of alteration,
And selfereprouing, bring his constant pleasure
   Reg. Our Sisters man is certainely miscarried
   Bast. 'Tis to be doubted Madam
   Reg. Now sweet Lord,
You know the goodnesse I intend vpon you:
Tell me but truly, but then speake the truth,
Do you not loue my Sister?
  Bast. In honour'd Loue
   Reg. But haue you neuer found my Brothers way,
To the fore-fended place?
  Bast. No by mine honour, Madam
   Reg. I neuer shall endure her, deere my Lord
Be not familiar with her
   Bast. Feare not, she and the Duke her husband.
Enter with Drum and Colours, Albany, Gonerill, Soldiers.
  Alb. Our very louing Sister, well be-met:
Sir, this I heard, the King is come to his Daughter
With others, whom the rigour of our State
Forc'd to cry out
   Regan. Why is this reasond?
  Gone. Combine together 'gainst the Enemie:
For these domesticke and particular broiles,
Are not the question heere
   Alb. Let's then determine with th' ancient of warre
On our proceeding
   Reg. Sister you'le go with vs?
   Reg. 'Tis most conuenient, pray go with vs
   Gon. Oh ho, I know the Riddle, I will goe.
Exeunt. both the Armies.
Enter Edgar.
  Edg. If ere your Grace had speech with man so poore,
Heare me one word
   Alb. Ile ouertake you, speake
   Edg. Before you fight the Battaile, ope this Letter:
If you haue victory, let the Trumpet sound
For him that brought it: wretched though I seeme,
I can produce a Champion, that will proue
What is auouched there. If you miscarry,
Your businesse of the world hath so an end,
And machination ceases. Fortune loues you
   Alb. Stay till I haue read the Letter
   Edg. I was forbid it:
When time shall serue, let but the Herald cry,
And Ile appeare againe.
  Alb. Why farethee well, I will o're-looke thy paper.
Enter Edmund.
  Bast. The Enemy's in view, draw vp your powers,
Heere is the guesse of their true strength and Forces,
By dilligent discouerie, but your hast
Is now vrg'd on you
   Alb. We will greet the time.
  Bast. To both these Sisters haue I sworne my loue:
Each iealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the Adder. Which of them shall I take?
Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enioy'd
If both remaine aliue: To take the Widdow,
Exasperates, makes mad her Sister Gonerill,
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being aliue. Now then, wee'l vse
His countenance for the Battaile, which being done,
Let her who would be rid of him, deuise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercie
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
The Battaile done, and they within our power,
Shall neuer see his pardon: for my state,
Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
Scena Secunda.
Alarum within. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Lear, Cordelia,
Souldiers, ouer the Stage, and Exeunt. Enter Edgar, and Gloster.
  Edg. Heere Father, take the shadow of this Tree
For your good hoast: pray that the right may thriue:
If euer I returne to you againe,
Ile bring you comfort
   Glo. Grace go with you Sir.
Alarum and Retreat within. Enter Edgar.
  Edgar. Away old man, giue me thy hand, away:
King Lear hath lost, he and his Daughter tane,
Giue me thy hand: Come on
   Glo. No further Sir, a man may rot euen heere
   Edg. What in ill thoughts againe?
Men must endure
Their going hence, euen as their comming hither,
Ripenesse is all come on
   Glo. And that's true too.
Scena Tertia.
Enter in conquest with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Lear, and
Cordelia, as
prisoners, Souldiers, Captaine.
  Bast. Some Officers take them away: good guard,
Vntill their greater pleasures first be knowne
That are to censure them
   Cor. We are not the first,
Who with best meaning haue incurr'd the worst:
For thee oppressed King I am cast downe,
My selfe could else out-frowne false Fortunes frowne.
Shall we not see these Daughters, and these Sisters?
  Lear. No, no, no, no: come let's away to prison,
We two alone will sing like Birds i'th' Cage:
When thou dost aske me blessing, Ile kneele downe
And aske of thee forgiuenesse: So wee'l liue,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded Butterflies: and heere (poore Rogues)
Talke of Court newes, and wee'l talke with them too,
Who looses, and who wins; who's in, who's out;
And take vpon's the mystery of things,
As if we were Gods spies: And wee'l weare out
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebbe and flow by th' Moone
   Bast. Take them away
   Lear. Vpon such sacrifices my Cordelia,
The Gods themselues throw Incense.
Haue I caught thee?
He that parts vs, shall bring a Brand from Heauen,
And fire vs hence, like Foxes: wipe thine eyes,
The good yeares shall deuoure them, flesh and fell,
Ere they shall make vs weepe?
Weele see 'em staru'd first: come.
  Bast. Come hither Captaine, hearke.
Take thou this note, go follow them to prison,
One step I haue aduanc'd thee, if thou do'st
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
To Noble Fortunes: know thou this, that men
Are as the time is; to be tender minded
Do's not become a Sword, thy great imployment
Will not beare question: either say thou'lt do't,
Or thriue by other meanes
   Capt. Ile do't my Lord
   Bast. About it, and write happy, when th'hast done,
Marke I say instantly, and carry it so
As I haue set it downe.
Exit Captaine.
Flourish. Enter Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Soldiers.
  Alb. Sir, you haue shew'd to day your valiant straine
And Fortune led you well: you haue the Captiues
Who were the opposites of this dayes strife:
I do require them of you so to vse them,
As we shall find their merites, and our safety
May equally determine
   Bast. Sir, I thought it fit,
To send the old and miserable King to some retention,
Whose age had Charmes in it, whose Title more,
To plucke the common bosome on his side,
And turne our imprest Launces in our eies
Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen:
My reason all the same, and they are ready
To morrow, or at further space, t' appeare
Where you shall hold your Session
   Alb. Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subiect of this Warre,
Not as a Brother
   Reg. That's as we list to grace him.
Methinkes our pleasure might haue bin demanded
Ere you had spoke so farre. He led our Powers,
Bore the Commission of my place and person,
The which immediacie may well stand vp,
And call it selfe your Brother
   Gon. Not so hot:
In his owne grace he doth exalt himselfe,
More then in your addition
   Reg. In my rights,
By me inuested, he compeeres the best
   Alb. That were the most, if he should husband you
   Reg. Iesters do oft proue Prophets
   Gon. Hola, hola,
That eye that told you so, look'd but a squint
   Rega. Lady I am not well, else I should answere
From a full flowing stomack. Generall,
Take thou my Souldiers, prisoners, patrimony,
Dispose of them, of me, the walls is thine:
Witnesse the world, that I create thee heere
My Lord, and Master
   Gon. Meane you to enioy him?
  Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will
   Bast. Nor in thine Lord
   Alb. Halfe-blooded fellow, yes
   Reg. Let the Drum strike, and proue my title thine
   Alb. Stay yet, heare reason: Edmund, I arrest thee
On capitall Treason; and in thy arrest,
This guilded Serpent: for your claime faire Sisters,
I bare it in the interest of my wife,
'Tis she is sub-contracted to this Lord,
And I her husband contradict your Banes.
If you will marry, make your loues to me,
My Lady is bespoke
   Gon. An enterlude
   Alb. Thou art armed Gloster,
Let the Trumpet sound:
If none appeare to proue vpon thy person,
Thy heynous, manifest, and many Treasons,
There is my pledge: Ile make it on thy heart
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing lesse
Then I haue heere proclaim'd thee
   Reg. Sicke, O sicke
   Gon. If not, Ile nere trust medicine
   Bast. There's my exchange, what in the world hes
That names me Traitor, villain-like he lies,
Call by the Trumpet: he that dares approach;
On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine
My truth and honor firmely.
Enter a Herald.
  Alb. A Herald, ho.
Trust to thy single vertue, for thy Souldiers
All leuied in my name, haue in my name
Tooke their discharge
   Regan. My sicknesse growes vpon me
   Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my Tent.
Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet sound,
And read out this.
A Trumpet sounds.
Herald reads.
If any man of qualitie or degree, within the lists of the Army,
will maintaine vpon Edmund, supposed Earle of Gloster,
that he is a manifold Traitor, let him appeare by the third
sound of the Trumpet: he is bold in his defence.
  Her. Againe.
  Her. Againe.
Trumpet answers within.
Enter Edgar armed.
  Alb. Aske him his purposes, why he appeares
Vpon this Call o'th' Trumpet
   Her. What are you?
Your name, your quality, and why you answer
This present Summons?
  Edg. Know my name is lost
By Treasons tooth: bare-gnawne, and Canker-bit,
Yet am I Noble as the Aduersary
I come to cope
   Alb. Which is that Aduersary?
  Edg. What's he that speakes for Edmund Earle of Gloster?
  Bast. Himselfe, what saist thou to him?
  Edg. Draw thy Sword,
That if my speech offend a Noble heart,
Thy arme may do thee Iustice, heere is mine:
Behold it is my priuiledge,
The priuiledge of mine Honours,
My oath, and my profession. I protest,
Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,
Despise thy victor-Sword, and fire new Fortune,
Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a Traitor:
False to thy Gods, thy Brother, and thy Father,
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious Prince,
And from th' extremest vpward of thy head,
To the discent and dust below thy foote,
A most Toad-spotted Traitor. Say thou no,
This Sword, this arme, and my best spirits are bent
To proue vpon thy heart, where to I speake,
   Bast. In wisedome I should aske thy name,
But since thy out-side lookes so faire and Warlike,
And that thy tongue (some say) of breeding breathes,
What safe, and nicely I might well delay,
By rule of Knight-hood, I disdaine and spurne:
Backe do I tosse these Treasons to thy head,
With the hell-hated Lye, ore-whelme thy heart,
Which for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,
This Sword of mine shall giue them instant way,
Where they shall rest for euer. Trumpets speake
   Alb. Saue him, saue him.
Alarums. Fights.
  Gon. This is practise Gloster,
By th' law of Warre, thou wast not bound to answer
An vnknowne opposite: thou art not vanquish'd,
But cozend, and beguild
   Alb. Shut your mouth Dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it: hold Sir,
Thou worse then any name, reade thine owne euill:
No tearing Lady, I perceiue you know it
   Gon. Say if I do, the Lawes are mine not thine,
Who can araigne me for't?
  Alb. Most monstrous! O, know'st thou this paper?
  Bast. Aske me not what I know
   Alb. Go after her, she's desperate, gouerne her
   Bast. What you haue charg'd me with,
That haue I done,
And more, much more, the time will bring it out.
'Tis past, and so am I: But what art thou
That hast this Fortune on me? If thou'rt Noble,
I do forgiue thee
   Edg. Let's exchange charity:
I am no lesse in blood then thou art Edmond,
If more, the more th'hast wrong'd me.
My name is Edgar and thy Fathers Sonne,
The Gods are iust, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague vs:
The darke and vitious place where thee he got,
Cost him his eyes
   Bast. Th'hast spoken right, 'tis true,
The Wheele is come full circle, I am heere
   Alb. Me thought thy very gate did prophesie
A Royall Noblenesse: I must embrace thee,
Let sorrow split my heart, if euer I
Did hate thee, or thy Father
   Edg. Worthy Prince I know't
   Alb. Where haue you hid your selfe?
How haue you knowne the miseries of your Father?
  Edg. By nursing them my Lord. List a breefe tale,
And when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst.
The bloody proclamation to escape
That follow'd me so neere, (O our liues sweetnesse,
That we the paine of death would hourely dye,
Rather then die at once) taught me to shift
Into a mad-mans rags, t' assume a semblance
That very Dogges disdain'd: and in this habit
Met I my Father with his bleeding Rings,
Their precious Stones new lost: became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, sau'd him from dispaire.
Neuer (O fault) reueal'd my selfe vnto him,
Vntill some halfe houre past when I was arm'd,
Not sure, though hoping of this good successe,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him our pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart
(Alacke too weake the conflict to support)
Twixt two extremes of passion, ioy and greefe,
Burst smilingly
   Bast. This speech of yours hath mou'd me,
And shall perchance do good, but speake you on,
You looke as you had something more to say
   Alb. If there be more, more wofull, hold it in,
For I am almost ready to dissolue,
Hearing of this.
Enter a Gentleman.
  Gen. Helpe, helpe: O helpe
   Edg. What kinde of helpe?
  Alb. Speake man
   Edg. What meanes this bloody Knife?
  Gen. 'Tis hot, it smoakes, it came euen from the heart
of- O she's dead
   Alb. Who dead? Speake man
   Gen. Your Lady Sir, your Lady; and her Sister
By her is poyson'd: she confesses it
   Bast. I was contracted to them both, all three
Now marry in an instant
   Edg. Here comes Kent.
  Alb. Produce the bodies, be they aliue or dead;
Gonerill and Regans bodies brought out.
This iudgement of the Heauens that makes vs tremble.
Touches vs not with pitty: O, is this he?
The time will not allow the complement
Which very manners vrges
   Kent. I am come
To bid my King and Master aye good night.
Is he not here?
  Alb. Great thing of vs forgot,
Speake Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia?
Seest thou this obiect Kent?
  Kent. Alacke, why thus?
  Bast. Yet Edmund was belou'd:
The one the other poison'd for my sake,
And after slew herselfe
   Alb. Euen so: couer their faces
   Bast. I pant for life: some good I meane to do
Despight of mine owne Nature. Quickly send,
(Be briefe in it) to'th' Castle, for my Writ
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia:
Nay, send in time
   Alb. Run, run, O run
   Edg. To who my Lord? Who ha's the Office?
Send thy token of repreeue
   Bast. Well thought on, take my Sword,
Giue it the Captaine
   Edg. Hast thee for thy life
   Bast. He hath Commission from thy Wife and me,
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
To lay the blame vpon her owne dispaire,
That she for-did her selfe
   Alb. The Gods defend her, beare him hence awhile.
Enter Lear with Cordelia in his armes.
  Lear. Howle, howle, howle: O you are men of stones,
Had I your tongues and eyes, Il'd vse them so,
That Heauens vault should crack: she's gone for euer.
I know when one is dead, and when one liues,
She's dead as earth: Lend me a Looking-glasse,
If that her breath will mist or staine the stone,
Why then she liues
   Kent. Is this the promis'd end?
  Edg. Or image of that horror
   Alb. Fall and cease
   Lear. This feather stirs, she liues: if it be so,
It is a chance which do's redeeme all sorrowes
That euer I haue felt
   Kent. O my good Master
   Lear. Prythee away
   Edg. 'Tis Noble Kent your Friend
   Lear. A plague vpon you Murderors, Traitors all,
I might haue sau'd her, now she's gone for euer:
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha:
What is't thou saist? Her voice was euer soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
I kill'd the Slaue that was a hanging thee
   Gent. 'Tis true (my Lords) he did
   Lear. Did I not fellow?
I haue seene the day, with my good biting Faulchion
I would haue made him skip: I am old now,
And these same crosses spoile me. Who are you?
Mine eyes are not o'th' best, Ile tell you straight
   Kent. If Fortune brag of two, she lou'd and hated,
One of them we behold
   Lear. This is a dull sight, are you not Kent?
  Kent. The same: your Seruant Kent,
Where is your Seruant Caius?
  Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that,
He'le strike and quickly too, he's dead and rotten
   Kent. No my good Lord, I am the very man
   Lear. Ile see that straight
   Kent. That from your first of difference and decay,
Haue follow'd your sad steps
   Lear. You are welcome hither
   Kent. Nor no man else:
All's cheerlesse, darke, and deadly,
Your eldest Daughters haue fore-done themselues,
And desperately are dead
  Lear. I so I thinke
   Alb. He knowes not what he saies, and vaine is it
That we present vs to him.
Enter a Messenger.
  Edg. Very bootlesse
   Mess. Edmund is dead my Lord
   Alb. That's but a trifle heere:
You Lords and Noble Friends, know our intent,
What comfort to this great decay may come,
Shall be appli'd. For vs we will resigne,
During the life of this old Maiesty
To him our absolute power, you to your rights,
With boote, and such addition as your Honours
Haue more then merited. All Friends shall
Taste the wages of their vertue, and all Foes
The cup of their deseruings: O see, see
   Lear. And my poore Foole is hang'd: no, no, no life?
Why should a Dog, a Horse, a Rat haue life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
Neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer.
Pray you vndo this Button. Thanke you Sir,
Do you see this? Looke on her? Looke her lips,
Looke there, looke there.
  Edg. He faints, my Lord, my Lord
   Kent. Breake heart, I prythee breake
   Edg. Looke vp my Lord
   Kent. Vex not his ghost, O let him passe, he hates him,
That would vpon the wracke of this tough world
Stretch him out longer
   Edg. He is gon indeed
   Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long,
He but vsurpt his life
   Alb. Beare them from hence, our present businesse
Is generall woe: Friends of my soule, you twaine,
Rule in this Realme, and the gor'd state sustaine
   Kent. I haue a iourney Sir, shortly to go,
My Master calls me, I must not say no
   Edg. The waight of this sad time we must obey,
Speake what we feele, not what we ought to say:
The oldest hath borne most, we that are yong,
Shall neuer see so much, nor liue so long.
Exeunt. with a dead March.
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF KING LEAR.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Macbeth
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie 
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Macbeth
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.
  1. When shall we three meet againe?
In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine?
  2. When the Hurley-burley's done,
When the Battaile's lost, and wonne
   3. That will be ere the set of Sunne
   1. Where the place?
  2. Vpon the Heath
   3. There to meet with Macbeth
   1. I come, Gray-Malkin
   All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire,
Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre.
Scena Secunda.
Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with
meeting a bleeding Captaine.
  King. What bloody man is that? he can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the Reuolt
The newest state
   Mal. This is the Serieant,
Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought
'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend;
Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle,
As thou didst leaue it
   Cap. Doubtfull it stood,
As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together,
And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald
(Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that
The multiplying Villanies of Nature
Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles
Of Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd,
And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling,
Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake:
For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name)
Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele,
Which smoak'd with bloody execution
(Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage,
Till hee fac'd the Slaue:
Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him,
Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops,
And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements
   King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman
   Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection,
Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders:
So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,
Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke,
No sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles,
But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage,
With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men,
Began a fresh assault
   King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and
  Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles;
Or the Hare, the Lyon:
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks,
So they doubly redoubled stroakes vpon the Foe:
Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds,
Or memorize another Golgotha,
I cannot tell: but I am faint,
My Gashes cry for helpe
   King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds,
They smack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons.
Enter Rosse and Angus.
Who comes here?
  Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse
   Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes?
So should he looke, that seemes to speake things strange
   Rosse. God saue the King
   King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane?
  Rosse. From Fiffe, great King,
Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie,
And fanne our people cold.
Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor,
The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict,
Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe,
Confronted him with selfe-comparisons,
Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme,
Curbing his lauish spirit: and to conclude,
The Victorie fell on vs
   King. Great happinesse
   Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King,
Craues composition:
Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch,
Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse
   King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue
Our Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death,
And with his former Title greet Macbeth
   Rosse. Ile see it done
   King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.
Scena Tertia.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
  1. Where hast thou beene, Sister?
  2. Killing Swine
   3. Sister, where thou?
  1. A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lappe,
And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht:
Giue me, quoth I.
Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cryes.
Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o'th' Tiger:
But in a Syue Ile thither sayle,
And like a Rat without a tayle,
Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe
   2. Ile giue thee a Winde
   1. Th'art kinde
   3. And I another
   1. I my selfe haue all the other,
And the very Ports they blow,
All the Quarters that they know,
I'th' Ship-mans Card.
Ile dreyne him drie as Hay:
Sleepe shall neyther Night nor Day
Hang vpon his Pent-house Lid:
He shall liue a man forbid:
Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine:
Though his Barke cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be Tempest-tost.
Looke what I haue
   2. Shew me, shew me
   1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe,
Wrackt, as homeward he did come.
Drum within.
  3. A Drumme, a Drumme:
Macbeth doth come
   All. The weyward Sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the Sea and Land,
Thus doe goe, about, about,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice againe, to make vp nine.
Peace, the Charme's wound vp.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo.
  Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not seene
   Banquo. How farre is't call'd to Soris? What are these,
So wither'd, and so wilde in their attyre,
That looke not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth,
And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aught
That man may question? you seeme to vnderstand me,
By each at once her choppie finger laying
Vpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women,
And yet your Beards forbid me to interprete
That you are so
   Mac. Speake if you can: what are you?
  1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Glamis
   2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Cawdor
   3. All haile Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter
   Banq. Good Sir, why doe you start, and seeme to feare
Things that doe sound so faire? i'th' name of truth
Are ye fantasticall, or that indeed
Which outwardly ye shew? My Noble Partner
You greet with present Grace, and great prediction
Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope,
That he seemes wrapt withall: to me you speake not.
If you can looke into the Seedes of Time,
And say, which Graine will grow, and which will not,
Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor feare
Your fauors, nor your hate
   1. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater
   2. Not so happy, yet much happyer
   3. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none:
So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo
   1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile
   Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more:
By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis,
But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues
A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King,
Stands not within the prospect of beleefe,
No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this strange Intelligence, or why
Vpon this blasted Heath you stop our way
With such Prophetique greeting?
Speake, I charge you.
Witches vanish.
  Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's,
And these are of them: whither are they vanish'd?
  Macb. Into the Ayre: and what seem'd corporall,
Melted, as breath into the Winde.
Would they had stay'd
   Banq. Were such things here, as we doe speake about?
Or haue we eaten on the insane Root,
That takes the Reason Prisoner?
  Macb. Your Children shall be Kings
   Banq. You shall be King
   Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?
  Banq. Toth' selfe-same tune and words: who's here?
Enter Rosse and Angus.
  Rosse. The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth,
The newes of thy successe: and when he reades
Thy personall Venture in the Rebels sight,
His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend,
Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that,
In viewing o're the rest o'th' selfe-same day,
He findes thee in the stout Norweyan Rankes,
Nothing afeard of what thy selfe didst make
Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale
Can post with post, and euery one did beare
Thy prayses in his Kingdomes great defence,
And powr'd them downe before him
   Ang. Wee are sent,
To giue thee from our Royall Master thanks,
Onely to harrold thee into his sight,
Not pay thee
   Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater Honor,
He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:
In which addition, haile most worthy Thane,
For it is thine
   Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true?
  Macb. The Thane of Cawdor liues:
Why doe you dresse me in borrowed Robes?
  Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet,
But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life,
Which he deserues to loose.
Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway,
Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe,
And vantage; or that with both he labour'd
In his Countreyes wracke, I know not:
But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd,
Haue ouerthrowne him
   Macb. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines.
Doe you not hope your Children shall be Kings,
When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no lesse to them
   Banq. That trusted home,
Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne,
Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme,
The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths,
Winne vs with honest Trifles, to betray's
In deepest consequence.
Cousins, a word, I pray you
   Macb. Two Truths are told,
As happy Prologues to the swelling Act
Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen:
This supernaturall solliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot be good.
If ill? why hath it giuen me earnest of successe,
Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.
If good? why doe I yeeld to that suggestion,
Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire,
And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribbes,
Against the vse of Nature? Present Feares
Are lesse then horrible Imaginings:
My Thought, whose Murther yet is but fantasticall,
Shakes so my single state of Man,
That Function is smother'd in surmise,
And nothing is, but what is not
   Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt
   Macb. If Chance will haue me King,
Why Chance may Crowne me,
Without my stirre
   Banq. New Honors come vpon him
Like our strange Garments, cleaue not to their mould,
But with the aid of vse
   Macb. Come what come may,
Time, and the Houre, runs through the roughest Day
   Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your leysure
   Macb. Giue me your fauour:
My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten.
Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred,
Where euery day I turne the Leafe,
To reade them.
Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon
What hath chanc'd: and at more time,
The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speake
Our free Hearts each to other
   Banq. Very gladly
   Macb. Till then enough:
Come friends.
Scena Quarta.
Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme, Donalbaine, and
  King. Is execution done on Cawdor?
Or not those in Commission yet return'd?
  Mal. My Liege, they are not yet come back.
But I haue spoke with one that saw him die:
Who did report, that very frankly hee
Confess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highnesse Pardon,
And set forth a deepe Repentance:
Nothing in his Life became him,
Like the leauing it. Hee dy'de,
As one that had beene studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
As 'twere a carelesse Trifle
   King. There's no Art,
To finde the Mindes construction in the Face.
He was a Gentleman, on whom I built
An absolute Trust.
Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.
O worthyest Cousin,
The sinne of my Ingratitude euen now
Was heauie on me. Thou art so farre before,
That swiftest Wing of Recompence is slow,
To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd,
That the proportion both of thanks, and payment,
Might haue beene mine: onely I haue left to say,
More is thy due, then more then all can pay
   Macb. The seruice, and the loyaltie I owe,
In doing it, payes it selfe.
Your Highnesse part, is to receiue our Duties:
And our Duties are to your Throne, and State,
Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they should,
By doing euery thing safe toward your Loue
   King. Welcome hither:
I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowne
No lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee,
And hold thee to my Heart
   Banq. There if I grow,
The Haruest is your owne
   King. My plenteous Ioyes,
Wanton in fulnesse, seeke to hide themselues
In drops of sorrow. Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes,
And you whose places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our Estate vpon
Our eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter,
The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor must
Not vnaccompanied, inuest him onely,
But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shine
On all deseruers. From hence to Envernes,
And binde vs further to you
   Macb. The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you:
Ile be my selfe the Herbenger, and make ioyfull
The hearing of my Wife, with your approach:
So humbly take my leaue
   King. My worthy Cawdor
   Macb. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step,
On which I must fall downe, or else o're-leape,
For in my way it lyes. Starres hide your fires,
Let not Light see my black and deepe desires:
The Eye winke at the Hand: yet let that bee,
Which the Eye feares, when it is done to see.
  King. True worthy Banquo: he is full so valiant,
And in his commendations, I am fed:
It is a Banquet to me. Let's after him,
Whose care is gone before, to bid vs welcome:
It is a peerelesse Kinsman.
Flourish. Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter.
  Lady. They met me in the day of successe: and I haue
learn'd by the perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then
mortall knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them
further, they made themselues Ayre, into which they vanish'd.
Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missiues from
the King, who all-hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title
before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to
the comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This
haue I thought good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of
Greatnesse) that thou might'st not loose the dues of reioycing
by being ignorant of what Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay
it to thy heart and farewell.
Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be
What thou art promis'd: yet doe I feare thy Nature,
It is too full o'th' Milke of humane kindnesse,
To catch the neerest way. Thou would'st be great,
Art not without Ambition, but without
The illnesse should attend it. What thou would'st highly,
That would'st thou holily: would'st not play false,
And yet would'st wrongly winne.
Thould'st haue, great Glamys, that which cryes,
Thus thou must doe, if thou haue it;
And that which rather thou do'st feare to doe,
Then wishest should be vndone. High thee hither,
That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare,
And chastise with the valour of my Tongue
All that impeides thee from the Golden Round,
Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme
To haue thee crown'd withall.
Enter Messenger.
What is your tidings?
  Mess. The King comes here to Night
   Lady. Thou'rt mad to say it.
Is not thy Master with him? who, wer't so,
Would haue inform'd for preparation
   Mess. So please you, it is true: our Thane is comming:
One of my fellowes had the speed of him;
Who almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Then would make vp his Message
   Lady. Giue him tending,
He brings great newes,
Exit Messenger.
The Rauen himselfe is hoarse,
That croakes the fatall entrance of Duncan
Vnder my Battlements. Come you Spirits,
That tend on mortall thoughts, vnsex me here,
And fill me from the Crowne to the Toe, top-full
Of direst Crueltie: make thick my blood,
Stop vp th' accesse, and passage to Remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of Nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keepe peace betweene
Th' effect, and hit. Come to my Womans Brests,
And take my Milke for Gall, you murth'ring Ministers,
Where-euer, in your sightlesse substances,
You wait on Natures Mischiefe. Come thick Night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoake of Hell,
That my keene Knife see not the Wound it makes,
Nor Heauen peepe through the Blanket of the darke,
To cry, hold, hold.
Enter Macbeth.
Great Glamys, worthy Cawdor,
Greater then both, by the all-haile hereafter,
Thy Letters haue transported me beyond
This ignorant present, and I feele now
The future in the instant
   Macb. My dearest Loue,
Duncan comes here to Night
   Lady. And when goes hence?
  Macb. To morrow, as he purposes
   Lady. O neuer,
Shall Sunne that Morrow see.
Your Face, my Thane, is as a Booke, where men
May reade strange matters, to beguile the time.
Looke like the time, beare welcome in your Eye,
Your Hand, your Tongue: looke like th' innocent flower,
But be the Serpent vnder't. He that's comming,
Must be prouided for: and you shall put
This Nights great Businesse into my dispatch,
Which shall to all our Nights, and Dayes to come,
Giue solely soueraigne sway, and Masterdome
   Macb. We will speake further,
  Lady. Onely looke vp cleare:
To alter fauor, euer is to feare:
Leaue all the rest to me.
Scena Sexta.
Hoboyes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbaine,
Banquo, Lenox,
Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.
  King. This Castle hath a pleasant seat,
The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfe
Vnto our gentle sences
   Banq. This Guest of Summer,
The Temple-haunting Barlet does approue,
By his loued Mansonry, that the Heauens breath
Smells wooingly here: no Iutty frieze,
Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this Bird
Hath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle,
Where they must breed, and haunt: I haue obseru'd
The ayre is delicate.
  King. See, see our honor'd Hostesse:
The Loue that followes vs, sometime is our trouble,
Which still we thanke as Loue. Herein I teach you,
How you shall bid God-eyld vs for your paines,
And thanke vs for your trouble
   Lady. All our seruice,
In euery point twice done, and then done double,
Were poore, and single Businesse, to contend
Against those Honors deepe, and broad,
Wherewith your Maiestie loades our House:
For those of old, and the late Dignities,
Heap'd vp to them, we rest your Ermites
   King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor?
We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose
To be his Purueyor: But he rides well,
And his great Loue (sharpe as his Spurre) hath holp him
To his home before vs: Faire and Noble Hostesse
We are your guest to night
   La. Your Seruants euer,
Haue theirs, themselues, and what is theirs in compt,
To make their Audit at your Highnesse pleasure,
Still to returne your owne
   King. Giue me your hand:
Conduct me to mine Host we loue him highly,
And shall continue, our Graces towards him.
By your leaue Hostesse.
Scena Septima.
Hoboyes. Torches. Enter a Sewer, and diuers Seruants with Dishes
Seruice ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth
   Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well,
It were done quickly: If th' Assassination
Could trammell vp the Consequence, and catch
With his surcease, Successe: that but this blow
Might be the be all, and the end all. Heere,
But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of time,
Wee'ld iumpe the life to come. But in these Cases,
We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teach
Bloody Instructions, which being taught, returne
To plague th' Inuenter, this euen-handed Iustice
Commends th' Ingredience of our poyson'd Challice
To our owne lips. Hee's heere in double trust;
First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subiect,
Strong both against the Deed: Then, as his Host,
Who should against his Murtherer shut the doore,
Not beare the knife my selfe. Besides, this Duncane
Hath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath bin
So cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues
Will pleade like Angels, Trumpet-tongu'd against
The deepe damnation of his taking off:
And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe,
Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd
Vpon the sightlesse Curriors of the Ayre,
Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye,
That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre
To pricke the sides of my intent, but onely
Vaulting Ambition, which ore-leapes it selfe,
And falles on th' other.
How now? What Newes?
  La. He has almost supt: why haue you left the chamber?
  Mac. Hath he ask'd for me?
  La. Know you not, he ha's?
  Mac. We will proceed no further in this Businesse:
He hath Honour'd me of late, and I haue bought
Golden Opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worne now in their newest glosse,
Not cast aside so soone
   La. Was the hope drunke,
Wherein you drest your selfe? Hath it slept since?
And wakes it now to looke so greene, and pale,
At what it did so freely? From this time,
Such I account thy loue. Art thou affear'd
To be the same in thine owne Act, and Valour,
As thou art in desire? Would'st thou haue that
Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life,
And liue a Coward in thine owne Esteeme?
Letting I dare not, wait vpon I would,
Like the poore Cat i'th' Addage
   Macb. Prythee peace:
I dare do all that may become a man,
Who dares do more, is none
   La. What Beast was't then
That made you breake this enterprize to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man:
And to be more then what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
They haue made themselues, and that their fitnesse now
Do's vnmake you. I haue giuen Sucke, and know
How tender 'tis to loue the Babe that milkes me,
I would, while it was smyling in my Face,
Haue pluckt my Nipple from his Bonelesse Gummes,
And dasht the Braines out, had I so sworne
As you haue done to this
   Macb. If we should faile?
  Lady. We faile?
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And wee'le not fayle: when Duncan is asleepe,
(Whereto the rather shall his dayes hard Iourney
Soundly inuite him) his two Chamberlaines
Will I with Wine, and Wassell, so conuince,
That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine,
Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of Reason
A Lymbeck onely: when in Swinish sleepe,
Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death,
What cannot you and I performe vpon
Th' vnguarded Duncan? What not put vpon
His spungie Officers? who shall beare the guilt
Of our great quell
   Macb. Bring forth Men-Children onely:
For thy vndaunted Mettle should compose
Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd,
When we haue mark'd with blood those sleepie two
Of his owne Chamber, and vs'd their very Daggers,
That they haue don't?
  Lady. Who dares receiue it other,
As we shall make our Griefes and Clamor rore,
Vpon his Death?
  Macb. I am settled, and bend vp
Each corporall Agent to this terrible Feat.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show,
False Face must hide what the false Heart doth know.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him.
  Banq. How goes the Night, Boy?
  Fleance. The Moone is downe: I haue not heard the
   Banq. And she goes downe at Twelue
   Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir
   Banq. Hold, take my Sword:
There's Husbandry in Heauen,
Their Candles are all out: take thee that too.
A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me,
And yet I would not sleepe:
Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughts
That Nature giues way to in repose.
Enter Macbeth, and a Seruant with a Torch.
Giue me my Sword: who's there?
  Macb. A Friend
   Banq. What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed.
He hath beene in vnusuall Pleasure,
And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices.
This Diamond he greetes your Wife withall,
By the name of most kind Hostesse,
And shut vp in measurelesse content
   Mac. Being vnprepar'd,
Our will became the seruant to defect,
Which else should free haue wrought
   Banq. All's well.
I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters:
To you they haue shew'd some truth
   Macb. I thinke not of them:
Yet when we can entreat an houre to serue,
We would spend it in some words vpon that Businesse,
If you would graunt the time
   Banq. At your kind'st leysure
   Macb. If you shall cleaue to my consent,
When 'tis, it shall make Honor for you
   Banq. So I lose none,
In seeking to augment it, but still keepe
My Bosome franchis'd, and Allegeance cleare,
I shall be counsail'd
   Macb. Good repose the while
   Banq. Thankes Sir: the like to you.
Exit Banquo.
  Macb. Goe bid thy Mistresse, when my drinke is ready,
She strike vpon the Bell. Get thee to bed.
Is this a Dagger, which I see before me,
The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee:
I haue thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not fatall Vision, sensible
To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but
A Dagger of the Minde, a false Creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine?
I see thee yet, in forme as palpable,
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going,
And such an Instrument I was to vse.
Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th' other Sences,
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still;
And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody Businesse, which informes
Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe World
Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse
The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,
Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe
Moues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and firme-set Earth
Heare not my steps, which they may walke, for feare
Thy very stones prate of my where-about,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now sutes with it. Whiles I threat, he liues:
Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath giues.
A Bell rings.
I goe, and it is done: the Bell inuites me.
Heare it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell,
That summons thee to Heauen, or to Hell.
Scena Secunda.
  La. That which hath made the[m] drunk, hath made me bold:
What hath quench'd them, hath giuen me fire.
Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that shriek'd,
The fatall Bell-man, which giues the stern'st good-night.
He is about it, the Doores are open:
And the surfeted Groomes doe mock their charge
With Snores. I haue drugg'd their Possets,
That Death and Nature doe contend about them,
Whether they liue, or dye.
Enter Macbeth.
  Macb. Who's there? what hoa?
  Lady. Alack, I am afraid they haue awak'd,
And 'tis not done: th' attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds vs: hearke: I lay'd their Daggers ready,
He could not misse 'em. Had he not resembled
My Father as he slept, I had don't.
  Macb. I haue done the deed:
Didst thou not heare a noyse?
  Lady. I heard the Owle schreame, and the Crickets cry.
Did not you speake?
  Macb. When?
   Macb. As I descended?
   Macb. Hearke, who lyes i'th' second Chamber?
  Lady. Donalbaine
   Mac. This is a sorry sight
   Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight
   Macb. There's one did laugh in's sleepe,
And one cry'd Murther, that they did wake each other:
I stood, and heard them: But they did say their Prayers,
And addrest them againe to sleepe
   Lady. There are two lodg'd together
   Macb. One cry'd God blesse vs, and Amen the other,
As they had seene me with these Hangmans hands:
Listning their feare, I could not say Amen,
When they did say God blesse vs
   Lady. Consider it not so deepely
   Mac. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen?
I had most need of Blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat
   Lady. These deeds must not be thought
After these wayes: so, it will make vs mad
   Macb. Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more:
Macbeth does murther Sleepe, the innocent Sleepe,
Sleepe that knits vp the rauel'd Sleeue of Care,
The death of each dayes Life, sore Labors Bath,
Balme of hurt Mindes, great Natures second Course,
Chiefe nourisher in Life's Feast
   Lady. What doe you meane?
  Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the House:
Glamis hath murther'd Sleepe, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleepe no more: Macbeth shall sleepe no more
   Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane,
You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinke
So braine-sickly of things: Goe get some Water,
And wash this filthie Witnesse from your Hand.
Why did you bring these Daggers from the place?
They must lye there: goe carry them, and smeare
The sleepie Groomes with blood
   Macb. Ile goe no more:
I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done:
Looke on't againe, I dare not
   Lady. Infirme of purpose:
Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Childhood,
That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed,
Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall,
For it must seeme their Guilt.
Knocke within.
  Macb. Whence is that knocking?
How is't with me, when euery noyse appalls me?
What Hands are here? hah: they pluck out mine Eyes.
Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this blood
Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather
The multitudinous Seas incarnardine,
Making the Greene one, Red.
  Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shame
To weare a Heart so white.
I heare a knocking at the South entry:
Retyre we to our Chamber:
A little Water cleares vs of this deed.
How easie is it then? your Constancie
Hath left you vnattended.
Hearke, more knocking.
Get on your Night-Gowne, least occasion call vs,
And shew vs to be Watchers: be not lost
So poorely in your thoughts
   Macb. To know my deed,
'Twere best not know my selfe.
Wake Duncan with thy knocking:
I would thou could'st.
Scena Tertia.
Enter a Porter. Knocking within.
  Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were
Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the
Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there
i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd
himselfe on th' expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue
Napkins enow about you, here you'le sweat for't.
Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Deuils Name?
Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both
the Scales against eyther Scale, who committed Treason
enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Heauen:
oh come in, Equiuocator.
Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English
Taylor come hither, for stealing out of a French Hose:
Come in Taylor, here you may rost your Goose.
Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this
place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further:
I had thought to haue let in some of all Professions, that
goe the Primrose way to th' euerlasting Bonfire.
Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.
Enter Macduff, and Lenox.
  Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed,
That you doe lye so late?
  Port. Faith Sir, we were carowsing till the second Cock:
And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things
   Macd. What three things does Drinke especially
  Port. Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine.
Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes
the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore
much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Lecherie:
it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on,
and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens
him; makes him stand too, and not stand too: in conclusion,
equiuocates him in a sleepe, and giuing him the Lye,
   Macd. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night
   Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I
requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong
for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I
made a Shift to cast him.
Enter Macbeth.
  Macd. Is thy Master stirring?
Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes
   Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir
   Macb. Good morrow both
   Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane?
  Macb. Not yet
   Macd. He did command me to call timely on him,
I haue almost slipt the houre
   Macb. Ile bring you to him
   Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you:
But yet 'tis one
   Macb. The labour we delight in, Physicks paine:
This is the Doore
   Macd. Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limitted
Exit Macduffe.
  Lenox. Goes the King hence to day?
  Macb. He does: he did appoint so
   Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly:
Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe,
And (as they say) lamentings heard i'th' Ayre;
Strange Schreemes of Death,
And Prophecying, with Accents terrible,
Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents,
New hatch'd toth' wofull time.
The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night.
Some say, the Earth was Feuorous,
And did shake
   Macb. 'Twas a rough Night
   Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell
A fellow to it.
Enter Macduff.
  Macd. O horror, horror, horror,
Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee
   Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter?
  Macd. Confusion now hath made his Master-peece:
Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke ope
The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence
The Life o'th' Building
   Macb. What is't you say, the Life?
  Lenox. Meane you his Maiestie?
  Macd. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake:
See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,
Exeunt. Macbeth and Lenox.
Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason,
Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake,
Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see
The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo,
As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights,
To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
Bell rings. Enter Lady.
  Lady. What's the Businesse?
That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the House? speake, speake
   Macd. O gentle Lady,
'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake:
The repetition in a Womans eare,
Would murther as it fell.
Enter Banquo.
O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd
   Lady. Woe, alas:
What, in our House?
  Ban. Too cruell, any where.
Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe,
And say, it is not so.
Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.
  Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance,
I had liu'd a blessed time: for from this instant,
There's nothing serious in Mortalitie:
All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,
The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees
Is left this Vault, to brag of.
Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.
  Donal. What is amisse?
  Macb. You are, and doe not know't:
The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood
Is stopt, the very Source of it is stopt
   Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd
   Mal. Oh, by whom?
  Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't:
Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we found
Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted,
No mans Life was to be trusted with them
   Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie,
That I did kill them
   Macd. Wherefore did you so?
  Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate, & furious,
Loyall, and Neutrall, in a moment? No man:
Th' expedition of my violent Loue
Out-run the pawser, Reason. Here lay Duncan,
His Siluer skinne, lac'd with His Golden Blood,
And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature,
For Ruines wastfull entrance: there the Murtherers,
Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers
Vnmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refraine,
That had a heart to loue; and in that heart,
Courage, to make's loue knowne?
  Lady. Helpe me hence, hoa
   Macd. Looke to the Lady
   Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues,
That most may clayme this argument for ours?
  Donal. What should be spoken here,
Where our Fate hid in an augure hole,
May rush, and seize vs? Let's away,
Our Teares are not yet brew'd
   Mal. Nor our strong Sorrow
Vpon the foot of Motion
   Banq. Looke to the Lady:
And when we haue our naked Frailties hid,
That suffer in exposure; let vs meet,
And question this most bloody piece of worke,
To know it further. Feares and scruples shake vs:
In the great Hand of God I stand, and thence,
Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight
Of Treasonous Mallice
   Macd. And so doe I
   All. So all
   Macb. Let's briefely put on manly readinesse,
And meet i'th' Hall together
   All. Well contented.
  Malc. What will you doe?
Let's not consort with them:
To shew an vnfelt Sorrow, is an Office
Which the false man do's easie.
Ile to England
   Don. To Ireland, I:
Our seperated fortune shall keepe vs both the safer:
Where we are, there's Daggers in mens smiles;
The neere in blood, the neerer bloody
   Malc. This murtherous Shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way,
Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse,
And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking,
But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft,
Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Rosse, with an Old man.
  Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well,
Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seene
Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore Night
Hath trifled former knowings
   Rosse. Ha, good Father,
Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act,
Threatens his bloody Stage: byth' Clock 'tis Day,
And yet darke Night strangles the trauailing Lampe:
Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame,
That Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe,
When liuing Light should kisse it?
  Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall,
Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last,
A Faulcon towring in her pride of place,
Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd
   Rosse. And Duncans Horses,
(A thing most strange, and certaine)
Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race,
Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out,
Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would
Make Warre with Mankinde
   Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other
   Rosse. They did so:
To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't.
Enter Macduffe.
Heere comes the good Macduffe.
How goes the world Sir, now?
  Macd. Why see you not?
  Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed?
  Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine
   Ross. Alas the day,
What good could they pretend?
  Macd. They were subborned,
Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes
Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them
Suspition of the deed
   Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still,
Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp
Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like,
The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth
   Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone
To be inuested
   Rosse. Where is Duncans body?
  Macd. Carried to Colmekill,
The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors,
And Guardian of their Bones
   Rosse. Will you to Scone?
  Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife
   Rosse. Well, I will thither
   Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu
Least our old Robes sit easier then our new
   Rosse. Farewell, Father
   Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those
That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.
Exeunt. omnes
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Banquo.
  Banq. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weyard Women promis'd, and I feare
Thou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was saide
It should not stand in thy Posterity,
But that my selfe should be the Roote, and Father
Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
As vpon thee Macbeth, their Speeches shine,
Why by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,
And set me vp in hope. But hush, no more.
Senit sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox, Rosse, Lords,
  Macb. Heere's our chiefe Guest
   La. If he had beene forgotten,
It had bene as a gap in our great Feast,
And all-thing vnbecomming
   Macb. To night we hold a solemne Supper sir,
And Ile request your presence
   Banq. Let your Highnesse
Command vpon me, to the which my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tye
For euer knit
   Macb. Ride you this afternoone?
  Ban. I, my good Lord
   Macb. We should haue else desir'd your good aduice
(Which still hath been both graue, and prosperous)
In this dayes Councell: but wee'le take to morrow.
Is't farre you ride?
  Ban. As farre, my Lord, as will fill vp the time
'Twixt this, and Supper. Goe not my Horse the better,
I must become a borrower of the Night,
For a darke houre, or twaine
   Macb. Faile not our Feast
   Ban. My Lord, I will not
   Macb. We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'd
In England, and in Ireland, not confessing
Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers
With strange inuention. But of that to morrow,
When therewithall, we shall haue cause of State,
Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horse:
Adieu, till you returne at Night.
Goes Fleance with you?
  Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's
   Macb. I wish your Horses swift, and sure of foot:
And so I doe commend you to their backs.
Exit Banquo.
Let euery man be master of his time,
Till seuen at Night, to make societie
The sweeter welcome:
We will keepe our selfe till Supper time alone:
While then, God be with you.
Exeunt. Lords.
Sirrha, a word with you: Attend those men
Our pleasure?
  Seruant. They are, my Lord, without the Pallace
   Macb. Bring them before vs.
Exit Seruant.
To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thus
Our feares in Banquo sticke deepe,
And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that
Which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares,
And to that dauntlesse temper of his Minde,
He hath a Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour,
To act in safetie. There is none but he,
Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him,
My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is said
Mark Anthonies was by Caesar. He chid the Sisters,
When first they put the Name of King vpon me,
And bad them speake to him. Then Prophet-like,
They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings.
Vpon my Head they plac'd a fruitlesse Crowne,
And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe,
Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand,
No Sonne of mine succeeding: if't be so,
For Banquo's Issue haue I fil'd my Minde,
For them, the gracious Duncan haue I murther'd,
Put Rancours in the Vessell of my Peace
Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell
Giuen to the common Enemie of Man,
To make them Kings, the Seedes of Banquo Kings.
Rather then so, come Fate into the Lyst,
And champion me to th' vtterance.
Who's there?
Enter Seruant, and two Murtherers.
Now goe to the Doore, and stay there till we call.
Exit Seruant.
Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
  Murth. It was, so please your Highnesse
   Macb. Well then,
Now haue you consider'd of my speeches:
Know, that it was he, in the times past,
Which held you so vnder fortune,
Which you thought had been our innocent selfe.
This I made good to you, in our last conference,
Past in probation with you:
How you were borne in hand, how crost:
The Instruments: who wrought with them:
And all things else, that might
To halfe a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd,
Say, Thus did Banquo
   1.Murth. You made it knowne to vs
   Macb. I did so:
And went further, which is now
Our point of second meeting.
Doe you finde your patience so predominant,
In your nature, that you can let this goe?
Are you so Gospell'd, to pray for this good man,
And for his Issue, whose heauie hand
Hath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'd
Yours for euer?
  1.Murth. We are men, my Liege
   Macb. I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men,
As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres,
Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipt
All by the Name of Dogges: the valued file
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The House-keeper, the Hunter, euery one
According to the gift, which bounteous Nature
Hath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiue
Particular addition, from the Bill,
That writes them all alike: and so of men.
Now, if you haue a station in the file,
Not i'th' worst ranke of Manhood, say't,
And I will put that Businesse in your Bosomes,
Whose execution takes your Enemie off,
Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs,
Who weare our Health but sickly in his Life,
Which in his Death were perfect
   2.Murth. I am one, my Liege,
Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World
Hath so incens'd, that I am recklesse what I doe,
To spight the World
   1.Murth. And I another,
So wearie with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune,
That I would set my Life on any Chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't
   Macb. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie
   Murth. True, my Lord
   Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance,
That euery minute of his being, thrusts
Against my neer'st of Life: and though I could
With bare-fac'd power sweepe him from my sight,
And bid my will auouch it; yet I must not,
For certaine friends that are both his, and mine,
Whose loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall,
Who I my selfe struck downe: and thence it is,
That I to your assistance doe make loue,
Masking the Businesse from the common Eye,
For sundry weightie Reasons
   2.Murth. We shall, my Lord,
Performe what you command vs
   1.Murth. Though our Liues-
  Macb. Your Spirits shine through you.
Within this houre, at most,
I will aduise you where to plant your selues,
Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th' time,
The moment on't, for't must be done to Night,
And something from the Pallace: alwayes thought,
That I require a clearenesse; and with him,
To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke:
  Fleans , his Sonne, that keepes him companie,
Whose absence is no lesse materiall to me,
Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate
Of that darke houre: resolue your selues apart,
Ile come to you anon
   Murth. We are resolu'd, my Lord
   Macb. Ile call vpon you straight: abide within,
It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soules flight,
If it finde Heauen, must finde it out to Night.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Seruant.
  Lady. Is Banquo gone from Court?
  Seruant. I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night
   Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leysure,
For a few words
   Seruant. Madame, I will.
  Lady. Nought's had, all's spent.
Where our desire is got without content:
'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy,
Then by destruction dwell in doubtfull ioy.
Enter Macbeth.
How now, my Lord, why doe you keepe alone?
Of sorryest Fancies your Companions making,
Vsing those Thoughts, which should indeed haue dy'd
With them they thinke on: things without all remedie
Should be without regard: what's done, is done
   Macb. We haue scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it:
Shee'le close, and be her selfe, whilest our poore Mallice
Remaines in danger of her former Tooth.
But let the frame of things dis-ioynt,
Both the Worlds suffer,
Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe
In the affliction of these terrible Dreames,
That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace,
Then on the torture of the Minde to lye
In restlesse extasie.
Duncane is in his Graue:
After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well,
Treason ha's done his worst: nor Steele, nor Poyson,
Mallice domestique, forraine Leuie, nothing,
Can touch him further
   Lady. Come on:
Gentle my Lord, sleeke o're your rugged Lookes,
Be bright and Iouiall among your Guests to Night
   Macb. So shall I Loue, and so I pray be you:
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo,
Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue:
Vnsafe the while, that wee must laue
Our Honors in these flattering streames,
And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts,
Disguising what they are
   Lady. You must leaue this
   Macb. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife:
Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleans liues
   Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne
   Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable,
Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne
His Cloyster'd flight, ere to black Heccats summons
The shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsie hums,
Hath rung Nights yawning Peale,
There shall be done a deed of dreadfull note
   Lady. What's to be done?
  Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night,
Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day,
And with thy bloodie and inuisible Hand
Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond,
Which keepes me pale. Light thickens,
And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood:
Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowse,
Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowse.
Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still,
Things bad begun, make strong themselues by ill:
So prythee goe with me.
Scena Tertia.
Enter three Murtherers.
  1. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs?
  3. Macbeth
   2. He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers
Our Offices, and what we haue to doe,
To the direction iust
   1. Then stand with vs:
The West yet glimmers with some streakes of Day.
Now spurres the lated Traueller apace,
To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approches
The subiect of our Watch
   3. Hearke, I heare Horses
   Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa
   2. Then 'tis hee:
The rest, that are within the note of expectation,
Alreadie are i'th' Court
   1. His Horses goe about
   3. Almost a mile: but he does vsually,
So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace Gate
Make it their Walke.
Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.
  2. A Light, a Light
   3. 'Tis hee
   1. Stand too't
   Ban. It will be Rayne to Night
   1. Let it come downe
   Ban. O, Trecherie!
Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye,
Thou may'st reuenge. O Slaue!
  3. Who did strike out the Light?
  1. Was't not the way?
  3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled
   2. We haue lost
Best halfe of our Affaire
   1. Well, let's away, and say how much is done.
Scaena Quarta.
Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and
  Macb. You know your owne degrees, sit downe:
At first and last, the hearty welcome
   Lords. Thankes to your Maiesty
   Macb. Our selfe will mingle with Society,
And play the humble Host:
Our Hostesse keepes her State, but in best time
We will require her welcome
   La. Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends,
For my heart speakes, they are welcome.
Enter first Murtherer.
  Macb. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks
Both sides are euen: heere Ile sit i'th' mid'st,
Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke a Measure
The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face
   Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then
   Macb. 'Tis better thee without, then he within.
Is he dispatch'd?
  Mur. My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him
   Mac. Thou art the best o'th' Cut-throats,
Yet hee's good that did the like for Fleans:
If thou did'st it, thou art the Non-pareill
   Mur. Most Royall Sir
Fleans is scap'd
   Macb. Then comes my Fit againe:
I had else beene perfect;
Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke,
As broad, and generall, as the casing Ayre:
But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in
To sawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's safe?
  Mur. I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a Death to Nature
   Macb. Thankes for that:
There the growne Serpent lyes, the worme that's fled
Hath Nature that in time will Venom breed,
No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to morrow
Wee'l heare our selues againe.
Exit Murderer.
  Lady. My Royall Lord,
You do not giue the Cheere, the Feast is sold
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making:
'Tis giuen, with welcome: to feede were best at home:
From thence, the sawce to meate is Ceremony,
Meeting were bare without it.
Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeths place.
  Macb. Sweet Remembrancer:
Now good digestion waite on Appetite,
And health on both
   Lenox. May't please your Highnesse sit
   Macb. Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd,
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present:
Who, may I rather challenge for vnkindnesse,
Then pitty for Mischance
   Rosse. His absence (Sir)
Layes blame vpon his promise. Pleas't your Highnesse
To grace vs with your Royall Company?
  Macb. The Table's full
   Lenox. Heere is a place reseru'd Sir
   Macb. Where?
  Lenox. Heere my good Lord.
What is't that moues your Highnesse?
  Macb. Which of you haue done this?
  Lords. What, my good Lord?
  Macb. Thou canst not say I did it: neuer shake
Thy goary lockes at me
   Rosse. Gentlemen rise, his Highnesse is not well
   Lady. Sit worthy Friends: my Lord is often thus,
And hath beene from his youth. Pray you keepe Seat,
The fit is momentary, vpon a thought
He will againe be well. If much you note him
You shall offend him, and extend his Passion,
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?
  Macb. I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that
Which might appall the Diuell
   La. O proper stuffe:
This is the very painting of your feare:
This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you said
Led you to Duncan. O, these flawes and starts
(Impostors to true feare) would well become
A womans story, at a Winters fire
Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it selfe,
Why do you make such faces? When all's done
You looke but on a stoole
   Macb. Prythee see there:
Behold, looke, loe, how say you:
Why what care I, if thou canst nod, speake too.
If Charnell houses, and our Graues must send
Those that we bury, backe; our Monuments
Shall be the Mawes of Kytes
   La. What? quite vnmann'd in folly
   Macb. If I stand heere, I saw him
   La. Fie for shame
   Macb. Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time
Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale:
I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd
Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene,
That when the Braines were out, the man would dye,
And there an end: But now they rise againe
With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes,
And push vs from our stooles. This is more strange
Then such a murther is
   La. My worthy Lord
Your Noble Friends do lacke you
   Macb. I do forget:
Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends,
I haue a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all,
Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full:
Enter Ghost.
I drinke to th' generall ioy o'th' whole Table,
And to our deere Friend Banquo, whom we misse:
Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirst,
And all to all
   Lords. Our duties, and the pledge
   Mac. Auant, & quit my sight, let the earth hide thee:
Thy bones are marrowlesse, thy blood is cold:
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with
   La. Thinke of this good Peeres
But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other,
Onely it spoyles the pleasure of the time
   Macb. What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian Beare,
The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th' Hircan Tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firme Nerues
Shall neuer tremble. Or be aliue againe,
And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword:
If trembling I inhabit then, protest mee
The Baby of a Girle. Hence horrible shadow,
Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why so, being gone
I am a man againe: pray you sit still
   La. You haue displac'd the mirth,
Broke the good meeting, with most admir'd disorder
   Macb. Can such things be,
And ouercome vs like a Summers Clowd,
Without our speciall wonder? You make me strange
Euen to the disposition that I owe,
When now I thinke you can behold such sights,
And keepe the naturall Rubie of your Cheekes,
When mine is blanch'd with feare
   Rosse. What sights, my Lord?
  La. I pray you speake not: he growes worse & worse
Question enrages him: at once, goodnight.
Stand not vpon the order of your going,
But go at once
   Len. Good night, and better health
Attend his Maiesty
   La. A kinde goodnight to all.
  Macb. It will haue blood they say:
Blood will haue Blood:
Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to speake:
Augures, and vnderstood Relations, haue
By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth
The secret'st man of Blood. What is the night?
  La. Almost at oddes with morning, which is which
   Macb. How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person
At our great bidding
   La. Did you send to him Sir?
  Macb. I heare it by the way: But I will send:
There's not a one of them but in his house
I keepe a Seruant Feed. I will to morrow
(And betimes I will) to the weyard Sisters.
More shall they speake: for now I am bent to know
By the worst meanes, the worst, for mine owne good,
All causes shall giue way. I am in blood
Stept in so farre, that should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go ore:
Strange things I haue in head, that will to hand,
Which must be acted, ere they may be scand
   La. You lacke the season of all Natures, sleepe
   Macb. Come, wee'l to sleepe: My strange & self-abuse
Is the initiate feare, that wants hard vse:
We are yet but yong indeed.
Scena Quinta.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat.
  1. Why how now Hecat, you looke angerly?
  Hec. Haue I not reason (Beldams) as you are?
Sawcy, and ouer-bold, how did you dare
To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth,
In Riddles, and Affaires of death;
And I the Mistris of your Charmes,
The close contriuer of all harmes,
Was neuer call'd to beare my part,
Or shew the glory of our Art?
And which is worse, all you haue done
Hath bene but for a wayward Sonne,
Spightfull, and wrathfull, who (as others do)
Loues for his owne ends, not for you.
But make amends now: Get you gon,
And at the pit of Acheron
Meete me i'th' Morning: thither he
Will come, to know his Destinie.
Your Vessels, and your Spels prouide,
Your Charmes, and euery thing beside;
I am for th' Ayre: This night Ile spend
Vnto a dismall, and a Fatall end.
Great businesse must be wrought ere Noone.
Vpon the Corner of the Moone
There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound,
Ile catch it ere it come to ground;
And that distill'd by Magicke slights,
Shall raise such Artificiall Sprights,
As by the strength of their illusion,
Shall draw him on to his Confusion.
He shall spurne Fate, scorne Death, and beare
His hopes 'boue Wisedome, Grace, and Feare:
And you all know, Security
Is Mortals cheefest Enemie.
Musicke, and a Song.
Hearke, I am call'd: my little Spirit see
Sits in Foggy cloud, and stayes for me.
Sing within. Come away, come away, &c.
  1 Come, let's make hast, shee'l soone be
Backe againe.
Scaena Sexta.
Enter Lenox, and another Lord.
  Lenox. My former Speeches,
Haue but hit your Thoughts
Which can interpret farther: Onely I say
Things haue bin strangely borne. The gracious Duncan
Was pittied of Macbeth: marry he was dead:
And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late,
Whom you may say (if't please you) Fleans kill'd,
For Fleans fled: Men must not walke too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane
To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact,
How it did greeue Macbeth? Did he not straight
In pious rage, the two delinquents teare,
That were the Slaues of drinke, and thralles of sleepe?
Was not that Nobly done? I, and wisely too:
For 'twould haue anger'd any heart aliue
To heare the men deny't. So that I say,
He ha's borne all things well, and I do thinke,
That had he Duncans Sonnes vnder his Key,
(As, and't please Heauen he shall not) they should finde
What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleans.
But peace; for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd
His presence at the Tyrants Feast, I heare
Macduffe liues in disgrace. Sir, can you tell
Where he bestowes himselfe?
  Lord. The Sonnes of Duncane
(From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth)
Liues in the English Court, and is receyu'd
Of the most Pious Edward, with such grace,
That the maleuolence of Fortune, nothing
Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduffe
Is gone, to pray the Holy King, vpon his ayd
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Seyward,
That by the helpe of these (with him aboue)
To ratifie the Worke) we may againe
Giue to our Tables meate, sleepe to our Nights:
Free from our Feasts, and Banquets bloody kniues;
Do faithfull Homage, and receiue free Honors,
All which we pine for now. And this report
Hath so exasperate their King, that hee
Prepares for some attempt of Warre
   Len. Sent he to Macduffe?
  Lord. He did: and with an absolute Sir, not I
The clowdy Messenger turnes me his backe,
And hums; as who should say, you'l rue the time
That clogges me with this Answer
   Lenox. And that well might
Aduise him to a Caution, t' hold what distance
His wisedome can prouide. Some holy Angell
Flye to the Court of England, and vnfold
His Message ere he come, that a swift blessing
May soone returne to this our suffering Country,
Vnder a hand accurs'd
   Lord. Ile send my Prayers with him.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
  1 Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd
   2 Thrice, and once the Hedge-Pigge whin'd
   3 Harpier cries, 'tis time, 'tis time
   1 Round about the Caldron go:
In the poysond Entrailes throw
Toad, that vnder cold stone,
Dayes and Nights, ha's thirty one:
Sweltred Venom sleeping got,
Boyle thou first i'th' charmed pot
   All. Double, double, toile and trouble;
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble
   2 Fillet of a Fenny Snake,
In the Cauldron boyle and bake:
Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frogge,
Wooll of Bat, and Tongue of Dogge:
Adders Forke, and Blinde-wormes Sting,
Lizards legge, and Howlets wing:
For a Charme of powrefull trouble,
Like a Hell-broth, boyle and bubble
   All. Double, double, toyle and trouble,
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble
   3 Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolfe,
Witches Mummey, Maw, and Gulfe
Of the rauin'd salt Sea sharke:
Roote of Hemlocke, digg'd i'th' darke:
Liuer of Blaspheming Iew,
Gall of Goate, and Slippes of Yew,
Sliuer'd in the Moones Ecclipse:
Nose of Turke, and Tartars lips:
Finger of Birth-strangled Babe,
Ditch-deliuer'd by a Drab,
Make the Grewell thicke, and slab.
Adde thereto a Tigers Chawdron,
For th' Ingredience of our Cawdron
   All. Double, double, toyle and trouble,
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble
   2 Coole it with a Baboones blood,
Then the Charme is firme and good.
Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches.
  Hec. O well done: I commend your paines,
And euery one shall share i'th' gaines:
And now about the Cauldron sing
Like Elues and Fairies in a Ring,
Inchanting all that you put in.
Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.
  2 By the pricking of my Thumbes,
Something wicked this way comes:
Open Lockes, who euer knockes.
Enter Macbeth.
  Macb. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags?
What is't you do?
  All. A deed without a name
   Macb. I coniure you, by that which you Professe,
(How ere you come to know it) answer me:
Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight
Against the Churches: Though the yesty Waues
Confound and swallow Nauigation vp:
Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe,
Though Castles topple on their Warders heads:
Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope
Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure
Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether,
Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me
To what I aske you
   3 Wee'l answer
   1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes,
Or from our Masters
   Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em
   1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten
Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten
From the Murderers Gibbet, throw
Into the Flame
   All. Come high or low:
Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show.
Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head.
  Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power
   1 He knowes thy thought:
Heare his speech, but say thou nought
   1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth:
Beware Macduffe,
Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.
He Descends.
  Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks
Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more
   1 He will not be commanded: heere's another
More potent then the first.
Thunder. 2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.
  2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth
   Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee
   Appar. Be bloody, bold, & resolute:
Laugh to scorne
The powre of man: For none of woman borne
Shall harme Macbeth.
  Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee?
But yet Ile make assurance: double sure,
And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue,
That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies;
And sleepe in spight of Thunder.
Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.
What is this, that rises like the issue of a King,
And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round
And top of Soueraignty?
  All. Listen, but speake not too't
   3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care:
Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are:
Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill
Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill
Shall come against him.
  Macb. That will neuer bee:
Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree
Vnfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments, good:
Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood
Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth
Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart
Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art
Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer
Reigne in this Kingdome?
  All. Seeke to know no more
   Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this,
And an eternall Curse fall on you: Let me know.
Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this?
   All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart,
Come like shadowes, so depart.
A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glasse in his hand.
  Macb. Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down:
Thy Crowne do's seare mine Eye-bals. And thy haire
Thou other Gold-bound-brow, is like the first:
A third, is like the former. Filthy Hagges,
Why do you shew me this? - A fourth? Start eyes!
What will the Line stretch out to'th' cracke of Doome?
Another yet? A seauenth? Ile see no more:
And yet the eighth appeares, who beares a glasse,
Which shewes me many more: and some I see,
That two-fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry.
Horrible sight: Now I see 'tis true,
For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles vpon me,
And points at them for his. What? is this so?
  1 I Sir, all this is so. But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
Come Sisters, cheere we vp his sprights,
And shew the best of our delights.
Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound,
While you performe your Antique round:
That this great King may kindly say,
Our duties, did his welcome pay.
Musicke. The Witches Dance, and vanish.
  Macb. Where are they? Gone?
Let this pernitious houre,
Stand aye accursed in the Kalender.
Come in, without there.
Enter Lenox.
  Lenox. What's your Graces will
   Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sisters?
  Lenox. No my Lord
   Macb. Came they not by you?
  Lenox. No indeed my Lord
   Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride,
And damn'd all those that trust them. I did heare
The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came by?
  Len. 'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word:
Macduff is fled to England
   Macb. Fled to England?
  Len. I, my good Lord
   Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose neuer is o're-tooke
Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And euen now
To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done:
The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize.
Seize vpon Fife; giue to th' edge o'th' Sword
His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules
That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Foole,
This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole,
But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen?
Come bring me where they are.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.
  Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land?
  Rosse. You must haue patience Madam
   Wife. He had none:
His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not,
Our feares do make vs Traitors
   Rosse. You know not
Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare
   Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes,
His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place
From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not,
He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren
(The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight,
Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle:
All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue;
As little is the Wisedome, where the flight
So runnes against all reason
   Rosse. My deerest Cooz,
I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband,
He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes
The fits o'th' Season. I dare not speake much further,
But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors
And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor
From what we feare, yet know not what we feare,
But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea
Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you:
Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe:
Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward,
To what they were before. My pretty Cosine,
Blessing vpon you
   Wife. Father'd he is,
And yet hee's Father-lesse
   Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort.
I take my leaue at once.
  Wife. Sirra, your Fathers dead,
And what will you do now? How will you liue?
  Son. As Birds do Mother
   Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes?
  Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they
   Wife. Poore Bird,
Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime,
The Pitfall, nor the Gin
   Son. Why should I Mother?
Poore Birds they are not set for:
My Father is not dead for all your saying
   Wife. Yes, he is dead:
How wilt thou do for a Father?
  Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband?
  Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market
   Son. Then you'l by 'em to sell againe
   Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit,
And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee
   Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother?
  Wife. I, that he was
   Son. What is a Traitor?
  Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes
   Son. And be all Traitors, that do so
   Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor,
And must be hang'd
   Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye?
  Wife. Euery one
   Son. Who must hang them?
  Wife. Why, the honest men
   Son. Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there
are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men,
and hang vp them
   Wife. Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie:
But how wilt thou do for a Father?
  Son. If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you
would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely
haue a new Father
   Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st?
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known,
Though in your state of Honor I am perfect;
I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely.
If you will take a homely mans aduice,
Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones
To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage:
To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty,
Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you,
I dare abide no longer.
Exit Messenger
  Wife. Whether should I flye?
I haue done no harme. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world: where to do harme
Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas)
Do I put vp that womanly defence,
To say I haue done no harme?
What are these faces?
Enter Murtherers.
  Mur. Where is your Husband?
  Wife. I hope in no place so vnsanctified,
Where such as thou may'st finde him
   Mur. He's a Traitor
   Son. Thou ly'st thou shagge-ear'd Villaine
   Mur. What you Egge?
Yong fry of Treachery?
  Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother,
Run away I pray you.
Exit crying Murther.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Malcolme and Macduffe.
  Mal. Let vs seeke out some desolate shade, & there
Weepe our sad bosomes empty
   Macd. Let vs rather
Hold fast the mortall Sword: and like good men,
Bestride our downfall Birthdome: each new Morne,
New Widdowes howle, new Orphans cry, new sorowes
Strike heauen on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like Syllable of Dolour
   Mal. What I beleeue, Ile waile;
What know, beleeue; and what I can redresse,
As I shall finde the time to friend: I wil.
What you haue spoke, it may be so perchance.
This Tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest: you haue lou'd him well,
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am yong, but something
You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome
To offer vp a weake, poore innocent Lambe
T' appease an angry God
   Macd. I am not treacherous
   Malc. But Macbeth is.
A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle
In an Imperiall charge. But I shall craue your pardon:
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose;
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace
Yet Grace must still looke so
   Macd. I haue lost my Hopes
   Malc. Perchance euen there
Where I did finde my doubts.
Why in that rawnesse left you Wife, and Childe?
Those precious Motiues, those strong knots of Loue,
Without leaue-taking. I pray you,
Let not my Iealousies, be your Dishonors,
But mine owne Safeties: you may be rightly iust,
What euer I shall thinke
   Macd. Bleed, bleed poore Country,
Great Tyrrany, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodnesse dare not check thee: wear y thy wrongs,
The Title, is affear'd. Far thee well Lord,
I would not be the Villaine that thou think'st,
For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Graspe,
And the rich East to boot
   Mal. Be not offended:
I speake not as in absolute feare of you:
I thinke our Country sinkes beneath the yoake,
It weepes, it bleeds, and each new day a gash
Is added to her wounds. I thinke withall,
There would be hands vplifted in my right:
And heere from gracious England haue I offer
Of goodly thousands. But for all this,
When I shall treade vpon the Tyrants head,
Or weare it on my Sword; yet my poore Country
Shall haue more vices then it had before,
More suffer, and more sundry wayes then euer,
By him that shall succeede
   Macd. What should he be?
  Mal. It is my selfe I meane: in whom I know
All the particulars of Vice so grafted,
That when they shall be open'd, blacke Macbeth
Will seeme as pure as Snow, and the poore State
Esteeme him as a Lambe, being compar'd
With my confinelesse harmes
   Macd. Not in the Legions
Of horrid Hell, can come a Diuell more damn'd
In euils, to top Macbeth
   Mal. I grant him Bloody,
Luxurious, Auaricious, False, Deceitfull,
Sodaine, Malicious, smacking of euery sinne
That ha's a name. But there's no bottome, none
In my Voluptuousnesse: Your Wiues, your Daughters,
Your Matrons, and your Maides, could not fill vp
The Cesterne of my Lust, and my Desire
All continent Impediments would ore-beare
That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth,
Then such an one to reigne
   Macd. Boundlesse intemperance
In Nature is a Tyranny: It hath beene
Th' vntimely emptying of the happy Throne,
And fall of many Kings. But feare not yet
To take vpon you what is yours: you may
Conuey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seeme cold. The time you may so hoodwinke:
We haue willing Dames enough: there cannot be
That Vulture in you, to deuoure so many
As will to Greatnesse dedicate themselues,
Finding it so inclinde
   Mal. With this, there growes
In my most ill-composd Affection, such
A stanchlesse Auarice, that were I King,
I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands,
Desire his Iewels, and this others House,
And my more-hauing, would be as a Sawce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels vniust against the Good and Loyall,
Destroying them for wealth
   Macd. This Auarice
stickes deeper: growes with more pernicious roote
Then Summer-seeming Lust: and it hath bin
The Sword of our slaine Kings: yet do not feare,
Scotland hath Foysons, to fill vp your will
Of your meere Owne. All these are portable,
With other Graces weigh'd
   Mal. But I haue none. The King-becoming Graces,
As Iustice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stablenesse,
Bounty, Perseuerance, Mercy, Lowlinesse,
Deuotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude,
I haue no rellish of them, but abound
In the diuision of each seuerall Crime,
Acting it many wayes. Nay, had I powre, I should
Poure the sweet Milke of Concord, into Hell,
Vprore the vniuersall peace, confound
All vnity on earth
   Macd. O Scotland, Scotland
   Mal. If such a one be fit to gouerne, speake:
I am as I haue spoken
   Mac. Fit to gouern? No not to liue. O Natio[n] miserable!
With an vntitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholsome dayes againe?
Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne
By his owne Interdiction stands accust,
And do's blaspheme his breed? Thy Royall Father
Was a most Sainted-King: the Queene that bore thee,
Oftner vpon her knees, then on her feet,
Dy'de euery day she liu'd. Fare thee well,
These Euils thou repeat'st vpon thy selfe,
Hath banish'd me from Scotland. O my Brest,
Thy hope ends heere
   Mal. Macduff, this Noble passion
Childe of integrity, hath from my soule
Wip'd the blacke Scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts
To thy good Truth, and Honor. Diuellish Macbeth,
By many of these traines, hath sought to win me
Into his power: and modest Wisedome pluckes me
From ouer-credulous hast: but God aboue
Deale betweene thee and me; For euen now
I put my selfe to thy Direction, and
Vnspeake mine owne detraction. Heere abiure
The taints, and blames I laide vpon my selfe,
For strangers to my Nature. I am yet
Vnknowne to Woman, neuer was forsworne,
Scarsely haue coueted what was mine owne.
At no time broke my Faith, would not betray
The Deuill to his Fellow, and delight
No lesse in truth then life. My first false speaking
Was this vpon my selfe. What I am truly
Is thine, and my poore Countries to command:
Whither indeed, before they heere approach
Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men
Already at a point, was setting foorth:
Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodnesse
Be like our warranted Quarrell. Why are you silent?
  Macd. Such welcome, and vnwelcom things at once
'Tis hard to reconcile.
Enter a Doctor.
  Mal. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth
  Doct. I Sir: there are a crew of wretched Soules
That stay his Cure: their malady conuinces
The great assay of Art. But at his touch,
Such sanctity hath Heauen giuen his hand,
They presently amend.
  Mal. I thanke you Doctor
   Macd. What's the Disease he meanes?
  Mal. Tis call'd the Euill.
A most myraculous worke in this good King,
Which often since my heere remaine in England,
I haue seene him do: How he solicites heauen
Himselfe best knowes: but strangely visited people
All swolne and Vlcerous, pittifull to the eye,
The meere dispaire of Surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stampe about their neckes,
Put on with holy Prayers, and 'tis spoken
To the succeeding Royalty he leaues
The healing Benediction. With this strange vertue,
He hath a heauenly guift of Prophesie,
And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne,
That speake him full of Grace.
Enter Rosse.
  Macd. See who comes heere
   Malc. My Countryman: but yet I know him not
   Macd. My euer gentle Cozen, welcome hither
   Malc. I know him now. Good God betimes remoue
The meanes that makes vs Strangers
   Rosse. Sir, Amen
   Macd. Stands Scotland where it did?
  Rosse. Alas poore Countrey,
Almost affraid to know it selfe. It cannot
Be call'd our Mother, but our Graue; where nothing
But who knowes nothing, is once seene to smile:
Where sighes, and groanes, and shrieks that rent the ayre
Are made, not mark'd: Where violent sorrow seemes
A Moderne extasie: The Deadmans knell,
Is there scarse ask'd for who, and good mens liues
Expire before the Flowers in their Caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken
   Macd. Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true
   Malc. What's the newest griefe?
  Rosse. That of an houres age, doth hisse the speaker,
Each minute teemes a new one
   Macd. How do's my Wife?
  Rosse. Why well
   Macd. And all my Children?
  Rosse. Well too
   Macd. The Tyrant ha's not batter'd at their peace?
  Rosse. No, they were wel at peace, when I did leaue 'em
  Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: How gos't?
  Rosse. When I came hither to transport the Tydings
Which I haue heauily borne, there ran a Rumour
Of many worthy Fellowes, that were out,
Which was to my beleefe witnest the rather,
For that I saw the Tyrants Power a-foot.
Now is the time of helpe: your eye in Scotland
Would create Soldiours, make our women fight,
To doffe their dire distresses
   Malc. Bee't their comfort
We are comming thither: Gracious England hath
Lent vs good Seyward, and ten thousand men,
An older, and a better Souldier, none
That Christendome giues out
   Rosse. Would I could answer
This comfort with the like. But I haue words
That would be howl'd out in the desert ayre,
Where hearing should not latch them
   Macd. What concerne they,
The generall cause, or is it a Fee-griefe
Due to some single brest?
  Rosse. No minde that's honest
But in it shares some woe, though the maine part
Pertaines to you alone
   Macd. If it be mine
Keepe it not from me, quickly let me haue it
   Rosse. Let not your eares dispise my tongue for euer,
Which shall possesse them with the heauiest sound
that euer yet they heard
   Macd. Humh: I guesse at it
   Rosse. Your Castle is surpriz'd: your Wife, and Babes
Sauagely slaughter'd: To relate the manner
Were on the Quarry of these murther'd Deere
To adde the death of you
   Malc. Mercifull Heauen:
What man, ne're pull your hat vpon your browes:
Giue sorrow words; the griefe that do's not speake,
Whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids it breake
   Macd. My Children too?
  Ro. Wife, Children, Seruants, all that could be found
   Macd. And I must be from thence? My wife kil'd too?
  Rosse. I haue said
   Malc. Be comforted.
Let's make vs Med'cines of our great Reuenge,
To cure this deadly greefe
   Macd. He ha's no Children. All my pretty ones?
Did you say All? Oh Hell-Kite! All?
What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Damme
At one fell swoope?
  Malc. Dispute it like a man
   Macd. I shall do so:
But I must also feele it as a man;
I cannot but remember such things were
That were most precious to me: Did heauen looke on,
And would not take their part? Sinfull Macduff,
They were all strooke for thee: Naught that I am,
Not for their owne demerits, but for mine
Fell slaughter on their soules: Heauen rest them now
   Mal. Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe
Conuert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it
   Macd. O I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And Braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heauens,
Cut short all intermission: Front to Front,
Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe
Within my Swords length set him, if he scape
Heauen forgiue him too
   Mal. This time goes manly:
Come go we to the King, our Power is ready,
Our lacke is nothing but our leaue. Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the Powres aboue
Put on their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may,
The Night is long, that neuer findes the Day.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.
  Doct. I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can
perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last
  Gent. Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue
seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon
her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it,
write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe returne
to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe
   Doct. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at
once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.
In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other
actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard
  Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her
   Doct. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should
   Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse
to confirme my speech.
Enter Lady, with a Taper.
Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vpon
my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close
   Doct. How came she by that light?
  Gent. Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually,
'tis her command
   Doct. You see her eyes are open
   Gent. I, but their sense are shut
   Doct. What is it she do's now?
Looke how she rubbes her hands
   Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme
thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in
this a quarter of an houre
   Lad. Yet heere's a spot
   Doct. Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes
from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly
   La. Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why
then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie,
a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we feare? who knowes
it, when none can call our powre to accompt: yet who
would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much
blood in him
   Doct. Do you marke that?
  Lad. The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now?
What will these hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that
my Lord, no more o'that: you marre all with this starting
   Doct. Go too, go too:
You haue knowne what you should not
   Gent. She ha's spoke what shee should not, I am sure
of that: Heauen knowes what she ha's knowne
   La. Heere's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes
of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
   Doct. What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd
   Gent. I would not haue such a heart in my bosome,
for the dignity of the whole body
   Doct. Well, well, well
   Gent. Pray God it be sir
   Doct. This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue
knowne those which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue
dyed holily in their beds
   Lad. Wash your hands, put on your Night-Gowne,
looke not so pale: I tell you yet againe Banquo's buried;
he cannot come out on's graue
   Doct. Euen so?
  Lady. To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate:
Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's
done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed, to bed.
  Doct. Will she go now to bed?
  Gent. Directly
   Doct. Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets:
More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her,
Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance,
And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight,
My minde she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight.
I thinke, but dare not speake
   Gent. Good night good Doctor.
Scena Secunda.
Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, Lenox,
  Ment. The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm,
His Vnkle Seyward, and the good Macduff.
Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes
Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarme
Excite the mortified man
   Ang. Neere Byrnan wood
Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming
   Cath. Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother?
  Len. For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File
Of all the Gentry; there is Seywards Sonne,
And many vnruffe youths, that euen now
Protest their first of Manhood
   Ment. What do's the Tyrant
   Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies:
Some say hee's mad: Others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of Rule
   Ang. Now do's he feele
His secret Murthers sticking on his hands,
Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid his Faith-breach:
Those he commands, moue onely in command,
Nothing in loue: Now do's he feele his Title
Hang loose about him, like a Giants Robe
Vpon a dwarfish Theefe
   Ment. Who then shall blame
His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start,
When all that is within him, do's condemne
It selfe, for being there
   Cath. Well, march we on,
To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd:
Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly Weale,
And with him poure we in our Countries purge,
Each drop of vs
   Lenox. Or so much as it needes,
To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds:
Make we our March towards Birnan.
Exeunt. marching.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.
  Macb. Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all:
Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme?
Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know
All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd me thus:
Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman
Shall ere haue power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes,
And mingle with the English Epicures,
The minde I sway by, and the heart I beare,
Shall neuer sagge with doubt, nor shake with feare.
Enter Seruant.
The diuell damne thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone:
Where got'st thou that Goose-looke
   Ser. There is ten thousand
   Macb. Geese Villaine?
  Ser. Souldiers Sir
   Macb. Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare
Thou Lilly-liuer'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch?
Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine
Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face?
  Ser. The English Force, so please you
   Macb. Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart,
When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push
Will cheere me euer, or dis-eate me now.
I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life
Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe,
And that which should accompany Old-Age,
As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends,
I must not looke to haue: but in their steed,
Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor, breath
Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not.
Enter Seyton.
  Sey. What's your gracious pleasure?
  Macb. What Newes more?
  Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported
   Macb. Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt.
Giue me my Armor
   Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet
   Macb. Ile put it on:
Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round,
Hang those that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor:
How do's your Patient, Doctor?
  Doct. Not so sicke my Lord,
As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies
That keepe her from her rest
   Macb. Cure of that:
Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd,
Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with some sweet Obliuious Antidote
Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe
Which weighes vpon the heart?
  Doct. Therein the Patient
Must minister to himselfe
   Macb. Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it.
Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe:
Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me:
Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast
The Water of my Land, finde her Disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine Health,
I would applaud thee to the very Eccho,
That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say,
What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge
Would scowre these English hence: hear'st y of them?
  Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation
Makes vs heare something
   Macb. Bring it after me:
I will not be affraid of Death and Bane,
Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane
   Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere,
Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.
Scena Quarta.
Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe,
Seywards Sonne,
Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldiers Marching.
  Malc. Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand
That Chambers will be safe
   Ment. We doubt it nothing
   Seyw. What wood is this before vs?
  Ment. The wood of Birnane
   Malc. Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough,
And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our Hoast, and make discouery
Erre in report of vs
   Sold. It shall be done
   Syw. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant
Keepes still in Dunsinane, and will indure
Our setting downe befor't
   Malc. 'Tis his maine hope:
For where there is aduantage to be giuen,
Both more and lesse haue giuen him the Reuolt,
And none serue with him, but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too
   Macd. Let our iust Censures
Attend the true euent, and put we on
Industrious Souldiership
   Sey. The time approaches,
That will with due decision make vs know
What we shall say we haue, and what we owe:
Thoughts speculatiue, their vnsure hopes relate,
But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate,
Towards which, aduance the warre.
Exeunt. marching
Scena Quinta.
Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.
  Macb. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls,
The Cry is still, they come: our Castles strength
Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere let them lye,
Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp:
Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours,
We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard,
And beate them backward home. What is that noyse?
A Cry within of Women.
  Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord
   Macb. I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares:
The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd
To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire
Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre
As life were in't. I haue supt full with horrors,
Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry?
  Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead
   Macb. She should haue dy'de heereafter;
There would haue beene a time for such a word:
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,
Creepes in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last Syllable of Recorded time:
And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles
The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle,
Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,
That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a Tale
Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
Enter a Messenger.
Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly
   Mes. Gracious my Lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to doo't
   Macb. Well, say sir
   Mes. As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill
I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought
The Wood began to moue
   Macb. Lyar, and Slaue
   Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three Mile may you see it comming.
I say, a mouing Groue
   Macb. If thou speak'st false,
Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue
Till Famine cling thee: If thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in Resolution, and begin
To doubt th' Equiuocation of the Fiend,
That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood
Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood
Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out,
If this which he auouches, do's appeare,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I 'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun,
And wish th' estate o'th' world were now vndon.
Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke,
At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.
Scena Sexta.
Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and
with Boughes.
  Mal. Now neere enough:
Your leauy Skreenes throw downe,
And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle)
Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne
Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee
Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do,
According to our order
   Sey. Fare you well:
Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night,
Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight
   Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue the[m] all breath
Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.
Alarums continued.
Scena Septima.
Enter Macbeth.
  Macb. They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye,
But Beare-like I must fight the course. What's he
That was not borne of Woman? Such a one
Am I to feare, or none.
Enter young Seyward.
  Y.Sey. What is thy name?
  Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it
   Y.Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name
Then any is in hell
   Macb. My name's Macbeth
   Y.Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title
More hatefull to mine eare
   Macb. No: nor more fearefull
   Y.Sey. Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.
Fight, and young Seyward slaine.
  Macb. Thou was't borne of woman;
But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne,
Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne.
Alarums. Enter Macduffe.
  Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face,
If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still:
I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes
Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth,
Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge
I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be,
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
And more I begge not.
Exit. Alarums.
Enter Malcolme and Seyward.
  Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred:
The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight,
The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre,
The day almost it selfe professes yours,
And little is to do
   Malc. We haue met with Foes
That strike beside vs
   Sey. Enter Sir, the Castle.
Exeunt. Alarum
Enter Macbeth.
  Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye
On mine owne sword? whiles I see liues, the gashes
Do better vpon them.
Enter Macduffe.
  Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne
   Macb. Of all men else I haue auoyded thee:
But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already
   Macd. I haue no words,
My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine
Then tearmes can giue thee out.
Fight: Alarum
  Macb. Thou loosest labour
As easie may'st thou the intrenchant Ayre
With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests,
I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld
To one of woman borne
   Macd. Dispaire thy Charme,
And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru'd
Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb
Vntimely ript
   Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so;
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man:
And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd,
That palter with vs in a double sence,
That keepe the word of promise to our eare,
And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee
   Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward,
And liue to be the shew, and gaze o'th' time.
Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monsters are
Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ,
Heere may you see the Tyrant
   Macb. I will not yeeld
To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet,
And to be baited with the Rabbles curse.
Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body,
I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe,
And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough.
Exeunt. fighting. Alarums.
Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.
Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Malcolm,
Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.
  Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd
   Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheapely bought
   Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne
   Rosse. Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt,
He onely liu'd but till he was a man,
The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd
In the vnshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he dy'de
   Sey. Then he is dead?
  Rosse. I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end
   Sey. Had he his hurts before?
  Rosse. I, on the Front
   Sey. Why then, Gods Soldier be he:
Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so his Knell is knoll'd
   Mal. Hee's worth more sorrow,
and that Ile spend for him
   Sey. He's worth no more,
They say he parted well, and paid his score,
And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.
Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.
  Macd. Haile King, for so thou art.
Behold where stands
Th' Vsurpers cursed head: the time is free:
I see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle,
That speake my salutation in their minds:
Whose voyces I desire alowd with mine.
Haile King of Scotland
   All. Haile King of Scotland.
  Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your seuerall loues,
And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen
Henceforth be Earles, the first that euer Scotland
In such an Honor nam'd: What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad,
That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny,
Producing forth the cruell Ministers
Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene;
Who (as 'tis thought) by selfe and violent hands,
Tooke off her life. This, and what need full else
That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace,
We will performe in measure, time, and place:
So thankes to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.
Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from 
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Demetrius and Philo.
  Philo. Nay, but this dotage of our Generals
Ore-flowes the measure: those his goodly eyes
That o're the Files and Musters of the Warre,
Haue glow'd like plated Mars:
Now bend, now turne
The Office and Deuotion of their view
Vpon a Tawny Front. His Captaines heart,
Which in the scuffles of great Fights hath burst
The Buckles on his brest, reneages all temper,
And is become the Bellowes and the Fan
To coole a Gypsies Lust.
Flourish. Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Traine, with
fanning her.
Looke where they come:
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
(The triple Pillar of the world) transform'd
Into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and see
   Cleo. If it be Loue indeed, tell me how much
   Ant. There's beggery in the loue that can be reckon'd
  Cleo. Ile set a bourne how farre to be belou'd
   Ant. Then must thou needes finde out new Heauen,
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Newes (my good Lord) from Rome
   Ant. Grates me, the summe
   Cleo. Nay heare them Anthony.
Fuluia perchance is angry: Or who knowes,
If the scarse-bearded Caesar haue not sent
His powrefull Mandate to you. Do this, or this;
Take in that Kingdome, and Infranchise that:
Perform't, or else we damne thee
   Ant. How, my Loue?
  Cleo. Perchance? Nay, and most like:
You must not stay heere longer, your dismission
Is come from Caesar, therefore heare it Anthony,
Where's Fuluias Processe? (Caesars I would say) both?
Call in the Messengers: As I am Egypts Queene,
Thou blushest Anthony, and that blood of thine
Is Caesars homager: else so thy cheeke payes shame,
When shrill-tongu'd Fuluia scolds. The Messengers
   Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide Arch
Of the raing'd Empire fall: Heere is my space,
Kingdomes are clay: Our dungie earth alike
Feeds Beast as Man; the Noblenesse of life
Is to do thus: when such a mutuall paire,
And such a twaine can doo't, in which I binde
One paine of punishment, the world to weete
We stand vp Peerelesse
   Cleo. Excellent falshood:
Why did he marry Fuluia, and not loue her?
Ile seeme the Foole I am not. Anthony will be himselfe
   Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.
Now for the loue of Loue, and her soft houres,
Let's not confound the time with Conference harsh;
There's not a minute of our liues should stretch
Without some pleasure now. What sport to night?
  Cleo. Heare the Ambassadors
   Ant. Fye wrangling Queene:
Whom euery thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weepe: who euery passion fully striues
To make it selfe (in Thee) faire, and admir'd.
No Messenger but thine, and all alone, to night
Wee'l wander through the streets, and note
The qualities of people. Come my Queene,
Last night you did desire it. Speake not to vs.
Exeunt. with the Traine.
  Dem. Is Caesar with Anthonius priz'd so slight?
  Philo. Sir, sometimes when he is not Anthony,
He comes too short of that great Property
Which still should go with Anthony
   Dem. I am full sorry, that hee approues the common
Lyar, who thus speakes of him at Rome; but I will hope
of better deeds to morrow. Rest you happy.
Enter Enobarbus, Lamprius, a Southsayer, Rannius, Lucillius,
Iras, Mardian the Eunuch, and Alexas.
  Char. L[ord]. Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas,
almost most absolute Alexas, where's the Soothsayer
that you prais'd so to'th' Queene? Oh that I knewe this
Husband, which you say, must change his Hornes with
   Alex. Soothsayer
   Sooth. Your will?
  Char. Is this the Man? Is't you sir that know things?
  Sooth. In Natures infinite booke of Secrecie, a little I
   Alex. Shew him your hand
   Enob. Bring in the Banket quickly: Wine enough,
Cleopatra's health to drinke
   Char. Good sir, giue me good Fortune
   Sooth. I make not, but foresee
   Char. Pray then, foresee me one
   Sooth. You shall be yet farre fairer then you are
   Char. He meanes in flesh
   Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old
   Char. Wrinkles forbid
   Alex. Vex not his prescience, be attentiue
   Char. Hush
   Sooth. You shall be more belouing, then beloued
   Char. I had rather heate my Liuer with drinking
   Alex. Nay, heare him
   Char. Good now some excellent Fortune: Let mee
be married to three Kings in a forenoone, and Widdow
them all: Let me haue a Childe at fifty, to whom Herode
of Iewry may do Homage. Finde me to marrie me with
Octauius Caesar, and companion me with my Mistris
   Sooth. You shall out-liue the Lady whom you serue
   Char. Oh excellent, I loue long life better then Figs
   Sooth. You haue seene and proued a fairer former fortune,
then that which is to approach
   Char. Then belike my Children shall haue no names:
Prythee how many Boyes and Wenches must I haue
   Sooth. If euery of your wishes had a wombe, & foretell
euery wish, a Million
   Char. Out Foole, I forgiue thee for a Witch
   Alex. You thinke none but your sheets are priuie to
   Char. Nay come, tell Iras hers
   Alex. Wee'l know all our Fortunes
   Enob. Mine, and most of our Fortunes to night, shall
be drunke to bed
   Iras. There's a Palme presages Chastity, if nothing els
   Char. E'ne as the o're-flowing Nylus presageth Famine
   Iras. Go you wilde Bedfellow, you cannot Soothsay
   Char. Nay, if an oyly Palme bee not a fruitfull Prognostication,
I cannot scratch mine eare. Prythee tel her
but a worky day Fortune
   Sooth. Your Fortunes are alike
   Iras. But how, but how, giue me particulars
   Sooth. I haue said
   Iras. Am I not an inch of Fortune better then she?
  Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better
then I: where would you choose it
   Iras. Not in my Husbands nose
   Char. Our worser thoughts Heauens mend
   Alexas. Come, his Fortune, his Fortune. Oh let him
mary a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee,
and let her dye too, and giue him a worse, and let worse
follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to
his graue, fifty-fold a Cuckold. Good Isis heare me this
Prayer, though thou denie me a matter of more waight:
good Isis I beseech thee
   Iras. Amen, deere Goddesse, heare that prayer of the
people. For, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome
man loose-Wiu'd, so it is a deadly sorrow, to beholde a
foule Knaue vncuckolded: Therefore deere Isis keep decorum,
and Fortune him accordingly
   Char. Amen
   Alex. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make mee a
Cuckold, they would make themselues Whores, but
they'ld doo't.
Enter Cleopatra.
  Enob. Hush, heere comes Anthony
   Char. Not he, the Queene
   Cleo. Saue you, my Lord
   Enob. No Lady
   Cleo. Was he not heere?
  Char. No Madam
   Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth, but on the sodaine
A Romane thought hath strooke him.
  Enob. Madam
   Cleo. Seeke him, and bring him hither: wher's Alexias?
  Alex. Heere at your seruice.
My Lord approaches.
Enter Anthony, with a Messenger.
  Cleo. We will not looke vpon him:
  Messen. Fuluia thy Wife,
First came into the Field
   Ant. Against my Brother Lucius?
  Messen. I: but soone that Warre had end,
And the times state
Made friends of them, ioynting their force 'gainst Caesar,
Whose better issue in the warre from Italy,
Vpon the first encounter draue them
   Ant. Well, what worst
   Mess. The Nature of bad newes infects the Teller
   Ant. When it concernes the Foole or Coward: On.
Things that are past, are done, with me. 'Tis thus,
Who tels me true, though in his Tale lye death,
I heare him as he flatter'd
   Mes. Labienus (this is stiffe-newes)
Hath with his Parthian Force
Extended Asia: from Euphrates his conquering
Banner shooke, from Syria to Lydia,
And to Ionia, whil'st-
  Ant. Anthony thou would'st say
   Mes. Oh my Lord
   Ant. Speake to me home,
Mince not the generall tongue, name
Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome:
Raile thou in Fuluia's phrase, and taunt my faults
With such full License, as both Truth and Malice
Haue power to vtter. Oh then we bring forth weeds,
When our quicke windes lye still, and our illes told vs
Is as our earing: fare thee well awhile
   Mes. At your Noble pleasure.
Exit Messenger
Enter another Messenger.
  Ant. From Scicion how the newes? Speake there
   1.Mes. The man from Scicion,
Is there such an one?
  2.Mes. He stayes vpon your will
   Ant. Let him appeare:
These strong Egyptian Fetters I must breake,
Or loose my selfe in dotage.
Enter another Messenger with a Letter.
What are you?
  3.Mes. Fuluia thy wife is dead
   Ant. Where dyed she
   Mes. In Scicion, her length of sicknesse,
With what else more serious,
Importeth thee to know, this beares
   Antho. Forbeare me
There's a great Spirit gone, thus did I desire it:
What our contempts doth often hurle from vs,
We wish it ours againe. The present pleasure,
By reuolution lowring, does become
The opposite of it selfe: she's good being gon,
The hand could plucke her backe, that shou'd her on.
I must from this enchanting Queene breake off,
Ten thousand harmes, more then the illes I know
My idlenesse doth hatch.
Enter Enobarbus.
How now Enobarbus
   Eno. What's your pleasure, Sir?
  Anth. I must with haste from hence
   Eno. Why then we kill all our Women. We see how
mortall an vnkindnesse is to them, if they suffer our departure
death's the word
   Ant. I must be gone
   Eno. Vnder a compelling an occasion, let women die.
It were pitty to cast them away for nothing, though betweene
them and a great cause, they should be esteemed
nothing. Cleopatra catching but the least noyse of this,
dies instantly: I haue seene her dye twenty times vppon
farre poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death,
which commits some louing acte vpon her, she hath such
a celerity in dying
   Ant. She is cunning past mans thought
   Eno. Alacke Sir no, her passions are made of nothing
but the finest part of pure Loue. We cannot cal her winds
and waters, sighes and teares: They are greater stormes
and Tempests then Almanackes can report. This cannot
be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a showre of Raine
as well as Ioue
   Ant. Would I had neuer seene her
   Eno. Oh sir, you had then left vnseene a wonderfull
peece of worke, which not to haue beene blest withall,
would haue discredited your Trauaile
   Ant. Fuluia is dead
   Ant. Fuluia is dead
   Eno. Fuluia?
   Eno. Why sir, giue the Gods a thankefull Sacrifice:
when it pleaseth their Deities to take the wife of a man
from him, it shewes to man the Tailors of the earth: comforting
therein, that when olde Robes are worne out,
there are members to make new. If there were no more
Women but Fuluia, then had you indeede a cut, and the
case to be lamented: This greefe is crown'd with Consolation,
your old Smocke brings foorth a new Petticoate,
and indeed the teares liue in an Onion, that should water
   Ant. The businesse she hath broached in the State,
Cannot endure my absence
   Eno. And the businesse you haue broach'd heere cannot
be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which
wholly depends on your abode
   Ant. No more light Answeres:
Let our Officers
Haue notice what we purpose. I shall breake
The cause of our Expedience to the Queene,
And get her loue to part. For not alone
The death of Fuluia, with more vrgent touches
Do strongly speake to vs: but the Letters too
Of many our contriuing Friends in Rome,
Petition vs at home. Sextus Pompeius
Haue giuen the dare to Caesar, and commands
The Empire of the Sea. Our slippery people,
Whose Loue is neuer link'd to the deseruer,
Till his deserts are past, begin to throw
Pompey the great, and all his Dignities
Vpon his Sonne, who high in Name and Power,
Higher then both in Blood and Life, stands vp
For the maine Souldier. Whose quality going on,
The sides o'th' world may danger. Much is breeding,
Which like the Coursers heire, hath yet but life,
And not a Serpents poyson. Say our pleasure,
To such whose places vnder vs, require
Our quicke remoue from hence
   Enob. I shall doo't.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras.
  Cleo. Where is he?
  Char. I did not see him since
   Cleo. See where he is,
Whose with him, what he does:
I did not send you. If you finde him sad,
Say I am dauncing: if in Myrth, report
That I am sodaine sicke. Quicke, and returne
   Char. Madam, me thinkes if you did loue him deerly,
You do not hold the method, to enforce
The like from him
   Cleo. What should I do, I do not?
  Ch. In each thing giue him way, crosse him in nothing
   Cleo. Thou teachest like a foole: the way to lose him
   Char. Tempt him not so too farre. I wish forbeare,
In time we hate that which we often feare.
Enter Anthony.
But heere comes Anthony
   Cleo. I am sicke, and sullen
   An. I am sorry to giue breathing to my purpose
   Cleo. Helpe me away deere Charmian, I shall fall,
It cannot be thus long, the sides of Nature
Will not sustaine it
   Ant. Now my deerest Queene
   Cleo. Pray you stand farther from mee
   Ant. What's the matter?
  Cleo. I know by that same eye ther's some good news.
What sayes the married woman you may goe?
Would she had neuer giuen you leaue to come.
Let her not say 'tis I that keepe you heere,
I haue no power vpon you: Hers you are
   Ant. The Gods best know
   Cleo. Oh neuer was there Queene
So mightily betrayed: yet at the first
I saw the Treasons planted
   Ant. Cleopatra
   Cleo. Why should I thinke you can be mine, & true,
(Though you in swearing shake the Throaned Gods)
Who haue beene false to Fuluia?
Riotous madnesse,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vowes,
Which breake themselues in swearing
   Ant. Most sweet Queene
   Cleo. Nay pray you seeke no colour for your going,
But bid farewell, and goe:
When you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: No going then,
Eternity was in our Lippes, and Eyes,
Blisse in our browes bent: none our parts so poore,
But was a race of Heauen. They are so still,
Or thou the greatest Souldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest Lyar
   Ant. How now Lady?
  Cleo. I would I had thy inches, thou should'st know
There were a heart in Egypt
   Ant. Heare me Queene:
The strong necessity of Time, commands
Our Seruices a-while: but my full heart
Remaines in vse with you. Our Italy,
Shines o're with ciuill Swords; Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the Port of Rome,
Equality of two Domesticke powers,
Breed scrupulous faction: The hated growne to strength
Are newly growne to Loue: The condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his Fathers Honor, creepes apace
Into the hearts of such, as haue not thriued
Vpon the present state, whose Numbers threaten,
And quietnesse growne sicke of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fuluias death
   Cleo. Though age from folly could not giue me freedom
It does from childishnesse. Can Fuluia dye?
  Ant. She's dead my Queene.
Looke heere, and at thy Soueraigne leysure read
The Garboyles she awak'd: at the last, best,
See when, and where shee died
   Cleo. O most false Loue!
Where be the Sacred Violles thou should'st fill
With sorrowfull water? Now I see, I see,
In Fuluias death, how mine receiu'd shall be
   Ant. Quarrell no more, but bee prepar'd to know
The purposes I beare: which are, or cease,
As you shall giue th' aduice. By the fire
That quickens Nylus slime, I go from hence
Thy Souldier, Seruant, making Peace or Warre,
As thou affects
   Cleo. Cut my Lace, Charmian come,
But let it be, I am quickly ill, and well,
So Anthony loues
   Ant. My precious Queene forbeare,
And giue true euidence to his Loue, which stands
An honourable Triall
   Cleo. So Fuluia told me.
I prythee turne aside, and weepe for her,
Then bid adiew to me, and say the teares
Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one Scene
Of excellent dissembling, and let it looke
Like perfect Honor
   Ant. You'l heat my blood no more?
  Cleo. You can do better yet: but this is meetly
   Ant. Now by Sword
   Cleo. And Target. Still he mends.
But this is not the best. Looke prythee Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman do's become
The carriage of his chafe
   Ant. Ile leaue you Lady
   Cleo. Courteous Lord, one word:
Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
Sir, you and I haue lou'd, but there's not it:
That you know well, something it is I would:
Oh, my Obliuion is a very Anthony,
And I am all forgotten
   Ant. But that your Royalty
Holds Idlenesse your subiect, I should take you
For Idlenesse it selfe
   Cleo. 'Tis sweating Labour,
To beare such Idlenesse so neere the heart
As Cleopatra this. But Sir, forgiue me,
Since my becommings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you. Your Honor calles you hence,
Therefore be deafe to my vnpittied Folly,
And all the Gods go with you. Vpon your Sword
Sit Lawrell victory, and smooth successe
Be strew'd before your feete
   Ant. Let vs go.
Come: Our separation so abides and flies,
That thou reciding heere, goes yet with mee;
And I hence fleeting, heere remaine with thee.
Enter Octauius reading a Letter, Lepidus, and their Traine.
  Caes You may see Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Caesars Naturall vice, to hate
One great Competitor. From Alexandria
This is the newes: He fishes, drinkes, and wastes
The Lampes of night in reuell: Is not more manlike
Then Cleopatra: nor the Queene of Ptolomy
More Womanly then he. Hardly gaue audience
Or vouchsafe to thinke he had Partners. You
Shall finde there a man, who is th' abstracts of all faults,
That all men follow
   Lep. I must not thinke
There are, euils enow to darken all his goodnesse:
His faults in him, seeme as the Spots of Heauen,
More fierie by nights Blacknesse; Hereditarie,
Rather then purchaste: what he cannot change,
Then what he chooses
   Caes You are too indulgent. Let's graunt it is not
Amisse to tumble on the bed of Ptolomy,
To giue a Kingdome for a Mirth, to sit
And keepe the turne of Tipling with a Slaue,
To reele the streets at noone, and stand the Buffet
With knaues that smels of sweate: Say this becoms him
(As his composure must be rare indeed,
Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Anthony
No way excuse his foyles, when we do beare
So great waight in his lightnesse. If he fill'd
His vacancie with his Voluptuousnesse,
Full surfets, and the drinesse of his bones,
Call on him for't. But to confound such time,
That drummes him from his sport, and speakes as lowd
As his owne State, and ours, 'tis to be chid:
As we rate Boyes, who being mature in knowledge,
Pawne their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebell to iudgement.
Enter a Messenger.
  Lep. Heere's more newes
   Mes. Thy biddings haue beene done, & euerie houre
Most Noble Caesar, shalt thou haue report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at Sea,
And it appeares, he is belou'd of those
That only haue feard Caesar: to the Ports
The discontents repaire, and mens reports
Giue him much wrong'd
   Caes I should haue knowne no lesse,
It hath bin taught vs from the primall state
That he which is was wisht, vntill he were:
And the ebb'd man,
Ne're lou'd, till ne're worth loue,
Comes fear'd, by being lack'd. This common bodie,
Like to a Vagabond Flagge vpon the Streame,
Goes too, and backe, lacking the varrying tyde
To rot it selfe with motion
   Mes. Caesar I bring thee word,
Menacrates and Menas famous Pyrates
Makes the Sea serue them, which they eare and wound
With keeles of euery kinde. Many hot inrodes
They make in Italy, the Borders Maritime
Lacke blood to thinke on't, and flush youth reuolt,
No Vessell can peepe forth: but 'tis as soone
Taken as seene: for Pompeyes name strikes more
Then could his Warre resisted
  Caesar. Anthony,
Leaue thy lasciuious Vassailes. When thou once
Was beaten from Medena, where thou slew'st
Hirsius, and Pansa Consuls, at thy heele
Did Famine follow, whom thou fought'st against,
(Though daintily brought vp) with patience more
Then Sauages could suffer. Thou did'st drinke
The stale of Horses, and the gilded Puddle
Which Beasts would cough at. Thy pallat the[n] did daine
The roughest Berry, on the rudest Hedge.
Yea, like the Stagge, when Snow the Pasture sheets,
The barkes of Trees thou brows'd. On the Alpes,
It is reported thou did'st eate strange flesh,
Which some did dye to looke on: And all this
(It wounds thine Honor that I speake it now)
Was borne so like a Soldiour, that thy cheeke
So much as lank'd not
   Lep. 'Tis pitty of him
   Caes Let his shames quickely
Driue him to Rome, 'tis time we twaine
Did shew our selues i'th' Field, and to that end
Assemble me immediate counsell, Pompey
Thriues in our Idlenesse
   Lep. To morrow Caesar,
I shall be furnisht to informe you rightly
Both what by Sea and Land I can be able
To front this present time
   Caes Til which encounter, it is my busines too. Farwell
   Lep. Farwell my Lord, what you shal know mean time
Of stirres abroad, I shall beseech you Sir
To let me be partaker
   Caesar. Doubt not sir, I knew it for my Bond.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, & Mardian.
  Cleo. Charmian
   Char. Madam
   Cleo. Ha, ha, giue me to drinke Mandragora
   Char. Why Madam?
  Cleo. That I might sleepe out this great gap of time:
My Anthony is away
   Char. You thinke of him too much
   Cleo. O 'tis Treason
   Char. Madam, I trust not so
   Cleo. Thou, Eunuch Mardian?
  Mar. What's your Highnesse pleasure?
  Cleo. Not now to heare thee sing. I take no pleasure
In ought an Eunuch ha's: Tis well for thee,
That being vnseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
May not flye forth of Egypt. Hast thou Affections?
  Mar. Yes gracious Madam
   Cleo. Indeed?
  Mar. Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothing
But what in deede is honest to be done:
Yet haue I fierce Affections, and thinke
What Venus did with Mars
   Cleo. Oh Charmion:
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walke? Or is he on his Horse?
Oh happy horse to beare the weight of Anthony!
Do brauely Horse, for wot'st thou whom thou moou'st,
The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arme
And Burganet of men. Hee's speaking now,
Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nyle,
(For so he cals me:) Now I feede my selfe
With most delicious poyson. Thinke on me
That am with Phoebus amorous pinches blacke,
And wrinkled deepe in time. Broad-fronted Caesar,
When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I was
A morsell for a Monarke: and great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow,
There would he anchor his Aspect, and dye
With looking on his life.
Enter Alexas from Caesar.
  Alex. Soueraigne of Egypt, haile
   Cleo. How much vnlike art thou Marke Anthony?
Yet comming from him, that great Med'cine hath
With his Tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with my braue Marke Anthonie?
  Alex. Last thing he did (deere Queene)
He kist the last of many doubled kisses
This Orient Pearle. His speech stickes in my heart
   Cleo. Mine eare must plucke it thence
   Alex. Good Friend, quoth he:
Say the firme Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an Oyster: at whose foote
To mend the petty present, I will peece
Her opulent Throne, with Kingdomes. All the East,
(Say thou) shall call her Mistris. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an Arme-gaunt Steede,
Who neigh'd so hye, that what I would haue spoke,
Was beastly dumbe by him
   Cleo. What was he sad, or merry?
  Alex. Like to the time o'th' yeare, between y extremes
Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merrie
   Cleo. Oh well diuided disposition: Note him,
Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him.
He was not sad, for he would shine on those
That make their lookes by his. He was not merrie,
Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his ioy, but betweene both.
Oh heauenly mingle! Bee'st thou sad, or merrie,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So do's it no mans else. Met'st thou my Posts?
  Alex. I Madam, twenty seuerall Messengers.
Why do you send so thicke?
  Cleo. Who's borne that day, when I forget to send
to Anthonie, shall dye a Begger. Inke and paper Charmian.
Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian, euer
loue Caesar so?
  Char. Oh that braue Caesar!
  Cleo. Be choak'd with such another Emphasis,
Say the braue Anthony
   Char. The valiant Caesar
   Cleo. By Isis, I will giue thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Caesar Paragon againe:
My man of men
   Char. By your most gracious pardon,
I sing but after you
   Cleo. My Sallad dayes,
When I was greene in iudgement, cold in blood,
To say, as I saide then. But come, away,
Get me Inke and Paper,
he shall haue euery day a seuerall greeting, or Ile vnpeople
Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas, in warlike manner.
  Pom. If the great Gods be iust, they shall assist
The deeds of iustest men
   Mene. Know worthy Pompey, that what they do delay,
they not deny
   Pom. Whiles we are sutors to their Throne, decayes
the thing we sue for
   Mene. We ignorant of our selues,
Begge often our owne harmes, which the wise Powres
Deny vs for our good: so finde we profit
By loosing of our Prayers
   Pom. I shall do well:
The people loue me, and the Sea is mine;
My powers are Cressent, and my Auguring hope
Sayes it will come to'th' full. Marke Anthony
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make
No warres without doores. Caesar gets money where
He looses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,
Of both is flatter'd: but he neither loues,
Nor either cares for him
   Mene. Caesar and Lepidus are in the field,
A mighty strength they carry
   Pom. Where haue you this? 'Tis false
   Mene. From Siluius, Sir
   Pom. He dreames: I know they are in Rome together
Looking for Anthony: but all the charmes of Loue,
Salt Cleopatra soften thy wand lip,
Let Witchcraft ioyne with Beauty, Lust with both,
Tye vp the Libertine in a field of Feasts,
Keepe his Braine fuming. Epicurean Cookes,
Sharpen with cloylesse sawce his Appetite,
That sleepe and feeding may prorogue his Honour,
Euen till a Lethied dulnesse-
Enter Varrius.
How now Varrius?
  Var. This is most certaine, that I shall deliuer:
Marke Anthony is euery houre in Rome
Expected. Since he went from Egypt, 'tis
A space for farther Trauaile
   Pom. I could haue giuen lesse matter
A better eare. Menas, I did not thinke
This amorous Surfetter would haue donn'd his Helme
For such a petty Warre: His Souldiership
Is twice the other twaine: But let vs reare
The higher our Opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypts Widdow, plucke
The neere Lust-wearied Anthony
   Mene. I cannot hope,
Caesar and Anthony shall well greet together;
His Wife that's dead, did trespasses to Caesar,
His Brother wan'd vpon him, although I thinke
Not mou'd by Anthony
   Pom. I know not Menas,
How lesser Enmities may giue way to greater,
Were't not that we stand vp against them all:
'Twer pregnant they should square between themselues,
For they haue entertained cause enough
To draw their swords: but how the feare of vs
May Ciment their diuisions, and binde vp
The petty difference, we yet not know:
Bee't as our Gods will haue't; it onely stands
Our liues vpon, to vse our strongest hands
Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.
  Lep. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,
And shall become you well, to intreat your Captaine
To soft and gentle speech
   Enob. I shall intreat him
To answer like himselfe: if Caesar moue him,
Let Anthony looke ouer Caesars head,
And speake as lowd as Mars. By Iupiter,
Were I the wearer of Anthonio's Beard,
I would not shaue't to day
   Lep. 'Tis not a time for priuate stomacking
   Eno. Euery time serues for the matter that is then
   Lep. But small to greater matters must giue way
   Eno. Not if the small come first
   Lep. Your speech is passion: but pray you stirre
No Embers vp. Heere comes the Noble Anthony.
Enter Anthony and Ventidius.
  Eno. And yonder Caesar.
Enter Caesar, Mecenas, and Agrippa.
  Ant. If we compose well heere, to Parthia:
Hearke Ventidius
   Caesar. I do not know Mecenas, aske Agrippa
   Lep. Noble Friends:
That which combin'd vs was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend vs. What's amisse,
May it be gently heard. When we debate
Our triuiall difference loud, we do commit
Murther in healing wounds. Then Noble Partners,
The rather for I earnestly beseech,
Touch you the sowrest points with sweetest tearmes,
Nor curstnesse grow to'th' matter
   Ant. 'Tis spoken well:
Were we before our Armies, and to fight,
I should do thus.
  Caes Welcome to Rome
   Ant. Thanke you
   Ant. Sit sir
   Caes Nay then
   Ant. I learne, you take things ill, which are not so:
Or being, concerne you not
   Caes I must be laught at, if or for nothing, or a little, I
Should say my selfe offended, and with you
Chiefely i'th' world. More laught at, that I should
Once name you derogately: when to sound your name
It not concern'd me
   Ant. My being in Egypt Caesar, what was't to you?
  Caes No more then my reciding heere at Rome
Might be to you in Egypt: yet if you there
Did practise on my State, your being in Egypt
Might be my question
   Ant. How intend you, practis'd?
  Caes You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent,
By what did heere befall me. Your Wife and Brother
Made warres vpon me, and their contestation
Was Theame for you, you were the word of warre
   Ant. You do mistake your busines, my Brother neuer
Did vrge me in his Act: I did inquire it.
And haue my Learning from some true reports
That drew their swords with you, did he not rather
Discredit my authority with yours,
And make the warres alike against my stomacke,
Hauing alike your cause. Of this, my Letters
Before did satisfie you. If you'l patch a quarrell,
As matter whole you haue to make it with,
It must not be with this
   Caes You praise your selfe, by laying defects of iudgement
to me: but you patcht vp your excuses
   Anth. Not so, not so:
I know you could not lacke, I am certaine on't,
Very necessity of this thought, that I
Your Partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Could not with gracefull eyes attend those Warres
Which fronted mine owne peace. As for my wife,
I would you had her spirit, in such another,
The third oth' world is yours, which with a Snaffle,
You may pace easie, but not such a wife
   Enobar. Would we had all such wiues, that the men
might go to Warres with the women
   Anth. So much vncurbable, her Garboiles (Caesar)
Made out of her impatience: which not wanted
Shrodenesse of policie to: I greeuing grant,
Did you too much disquiet, for that you must,
But say I could not helpe it
   Caesar. I wrote to you, when rioting in Alexandria you
Did pocket vp my Letters: and with taunts
Did gibe my Misiue out of audience
   Ant. Sir, he fell vpon me, ere admitted, then:
Three Kings I had newly feasted, and did want
Of what I was i'th' morning: but next day
I told him of my selfe, which was as much
As to haue askt him pardon. Let this Fellow
Be nothing of our strife: if we contend
Out of our question wipe him
   Caesar. You haue broken the Article of your oath,
which you shall neuer haue tongue to charge me with
   Lep. Soft Caesar
   Ant. No Lepidus, let him speake,
The Honour is Sacred which he talks on now,
Supposing that I lackt it: but on Caesar,
The Article of my oath
   Caesar. To lend me Armes, and aide when I requir'd
them, the which you both denied
   Anth. Neglected rather:
And then when poysoned houres had bound me vp
From mine owne knowledge, as neerely as I may,
Ile play the penitent to you. But mine honesty,
Shall not make poore my greatnesse, nor my power
Worke without it. Truth is, that Fuluia,
To haue me out of Egypt, made Warres heere,
For which my selfe, the ignorant motiue, do
So farre aske pardon, as befits mine Honour
To stoope in such a case
   Lep. 'Tis Noble spoken
   Mece. If it might please you, to enforce no further
The griefes betweene ye: to forget them quite,
Were to remember: that the present neede,
Speakes to attone you
   Lep. Worthily spoken Mecenas
   Enobar. Or if you borrow one anothers Loue for the
instant, you may when you heare no more words of
Pompey returne it againe: you shall haue time to wrangle
in, when you haue nothing else to do
   Anth. Thou art a Souldier, onely speake no more
   Enob. That trueth should be silent, I had almost forgot
   Anth. You wrong this presence, therefore speake no
   Enob. Go too then: your Considerate stone
   Caesar. I do not much dislike the matter, but
The manner of his speech: for't cannot be,
We shall remaine in friendship, our conditions
So diffring in their acts. Yet if I knew,
What Hoope should hold vs staunch from edge to edge
Ath' world: I would persue it
   Agri. Giue me leaue Caesar
   Caesar. Speake Agrippa
   Agri. Thou hast a Sister by the Mothers side, admir'd
Octauia: Great Mark Anthony is now a widdower
   Caesar. Say not, say Agrippa; if Cleopater heard you, your
proofe were well deserued of rashnesse
   Anth. I am not marryed Caesar: let me heere Agrippa
further speake
   Agri. To hold you in perpetuall amitie,
To make you Brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an vn-slipping knot, take Anthony,
Octauia to his wife: whose beauty claimes
No worse a husband then the best of men: whose
Vertue, and whose generall graces, speake
That which none else can vtter. By this marriage,
All little Ielousies which now seeme great,
And all great feares, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing. Truth's would be tales,
Where now halfe tales be truth's: her loue to both,
Would each to other, and all loues to both
Draw after her. Pardon what I haue spoke,
For 'tis a studied not a present thought,
By duty ruminated
   Anth. Will Caesar speake?
  Caesar. Not till he heares how Anthony is toucht,
With what is spoke already
   Anth. What power is in Agrippa,
If I would say Agrippa, be it so,
To make this good?
  Caesar. The power of Caesar,
And his power, vnto Octauia
   Anth. May I neuer
(To this good purpose, that so fairely shewes)
Dreame of impediment: let me haue thy hand
Further this act of Grace: and from this houre,
The heart of Brothers gouerne in our Loues,
And sway our great Designes
   Caesar. There's my hand:
A Sister I bequeath you, whom no Brother
Did euer loue so deerely. Let her liue
To ioyne our kingdomes, and our hearts, and neuer
Flie off our Loues againe
   Lepi. Happily, Amen
   Ant. I did not think to draw my Sword 'gainst Pompey,
For he hath laid strange courtesies, and great
Of late vpon me. I must thanke him onely,
Least my remembrance, suffer ill report:
At heele of that, defie him
   Lepi. Time cals vpon's,
Of vs must Pompey presently be sought,
Or else he seekes out vs
   Anth. Where lies he?
  Caesar. About the Mount-Mesena
   Anth. What is his strength by land?
  Caesar. Great, and encreasing:
But by Sea he is an absolute Master
   Anth. So is the Fame.
Would we had spoke together. Hast we for it,
Yet ere we put our selues in Armes, dispatch we
The businesse we haue talkt of
   Caesar. With most gladnesse,
And do inuite you to my Sisters view,
Whether straight Ile lead you
   Anth. Let vs Lepidus not lacke your companie
   Lep. Noble Anthony, not sickenesse should detaine
Flourish. Exit omnes. Manet Enobarbus, Agrippa, Mecenas.
  Mec. Welcome from aegypt Sir
   Eno. Halfe the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecenas. My
honourable Friend Agrippa
   Agri. Good Enobarbus
   Mece. We haue cause to be glad, that matters are so
well disgested: you staid well by't in Egypt
   Enob. I Sir, we did sleepe day out of countenaunce:
and made the night light with drinking
   Mece. Eight Wilde-Boares rosted whole at a breakfast:
and but twelue persons there. Is this true?
  Eno. This was but as a Flye by an Eagle: we had much
more monstrous matter of Feast, which worthily deserued
   Mecenas. She's a most triumphant Lady, if report be
square to her
   Enob. When she first met Marke Anthony, she purst
vp his heart vpon the Riuer of Sidnis
   Agri. There she appear'd indeed: or my reporter deuis'd
well for her
   Eno. I will tell you,
The Barge she sat in, like a burnisht Throne
Burnt on the water: the Poope was beaten Gold,
Purple the Sailes: and so perfumed that
The Windes were Loue-sicke.
With them the Owers were Siluer,
Which to the tune of Flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beate, to follow faster;
As amorous of their strokes. For her owne person,
It beggerd all discription, she did lye
In her Pauillion, cloth of Gold, of Tissue,
O're-picturing that Venus, where we see
The fancie out-worke Nature. On each side her,
Stood pretty Dimpled Boyes, like smiling Cupids,
With diuers coulour'd Fannes whose winde did seeme,
To gloue the delicate cheekes which they did coole,
And what they vndid did
   Agrip. Oh rare for Anthony
   Eno. Her Gentlewoman, like the Nereides,
So many Mer-maides tended her i'th' eyes,
And made their bends adornings. At the Helme,
A seeming Mer-maide steeres: The Silken Tackle,
Swell with the touches of those Flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the office. From the Barge
A strange inuisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adiacent Wharfes. The Citty cast
Her people out vpon her: and Anthony
Enthron'd i'th' Market-place, did sit alone,
Whisling to'th' ayre: which but for vacancie,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopater too,
And made a gap in Nature
   Agri. Rare Egiptian
   Eno. Vpon her landing, Anthony sent to her,
Inuited her to Supper: she replyed,
It should be better, he became her guest:
Which she entreated, our Courteous Anthony,
Whom nere the word of no woman hard speake,
Being barber'd ten times o're, goes to the Feast;
And for his ordinary, paies his heart,
For what his eyes eate onely
   Agri. Royall Wench:
She made great Caesar lay his Sword to bed,
He ploughed her, and she cropt
   Eno. I saw her once
Hop forty Paces through the publicke streete,
And hauing lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
That she did make defect, perfection,
And breathlesse powre breath forth
   Mece. Now Anthony, must leaue her vtterly
   Eno. Neuer he will not:
Age cannot wither her, nor custome stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy
The appetites they feede, but she makes hungry,
Where most she satisfies. For vildest things
Become themselues in her, that the holy Priests
Blesse her, when she is Riggish
   Mece. If Beauty, Wisedome, Modesty, can settle
The heart of Anthony: Octauia is
A blessed Lottery to him
   Agrip. Let vs go. Good Enobarbus, make your selfe
my guest, whilst you abide heere
   Eno. Humbly Sir I thanke you.
Enter Anthony, Caesar, Octauia betweene them.
  Anth. The world, and my great office, will
Sometimes deuide me from your bosome
   Octa. All which time, before the Gods my knee shall
bowe my prayers to them for you
   Anth. Goodnight Sir. My Octauia
Read not my blemishes in the worlds report:
I haue not kept my square, but that to come
Shall all be done byth' Rule: good night deere Lady:
Good night Sir
   Caesar. Goodnight.
Enter Soothsaier.
  Anth. Now sirrah: you do wish your selfe in Egypt?
  Sooth. Would I had neuer come from thence, nor you
   Ant. If you can, your reason?
  Sooth. I see it in my motion: haue it not in my tongue,
But yet hie you to Egypt againe
   Antho. Say to me, whose Fortunes shall rise higher
Caesars or mine?
  Sooth. Caesars. Therefore (oh Anthony) stay not by his side
Thy Daemon that thy spirit which keepes thee, is
Noble, Couragious, high vnmatchable,
Where Caesars is not. But neere him, thy Angell
Becomes a feare: as being o're-powr'd, therefore
Make space enough betweene you
   Anth. Speake this no more
   Sooth. To none but thee no more but: when to thee,
If thou dost play with him at any game,
Thou art sure to loose: And of that Naturall lucke,
He beats thee 'gainst the oddes. Thy Luster thickens,
When he shines by: I say againe, thy spirit
Is all affraid to gouerne thee neere him:
But he alway 'tis Noble
   Anth. Get thee gone:
Say to Ventigius I would speake with him.
He shall to Parthia, be it Art or hap,
He hath spoken true. The very Dice obey him,
And in our sports my better cunning faints,
Vnder his chance, if we draw lots he speeds,
His Cocks do winne the Battaile, still of mine,
When it is all to naught: and his Quailes euer
Beate mine (in hoopt) at odd's. I will to Egypte:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,
I'th' East my pleasure lies. Oh come Ventigius.
Enter Ventigius.
You must to Parthia, your Commissions ready:
Follow me, and reciue't.
Enter Lepidus, Mecenas and Agrippa.
  Lepidus. Trouble your selues no further: pray you
hasten your Generals after
   Agr. Sir, Marke Anthony, will e'ne but kisse Octauia,
and weele follow
   Lepi. Till I shall see you in your Souldiers dresse,
Which will become you both: Farewell
   Mece. We shall: as I conceiue the iourney, be at
Mount before you Lepidus
   Lepi. Your way is shorter, my purposes do draw me
much about, you'le win two dayes vpon me
   Both. Sir good successe
   Lepi. Farewell.
Enter Cleopater, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.
  Cleo. Giue me some Musicke: Musicke, moody foode
of vs that trade in Loue
   Omnes. The Musicke, hoa.
Enter Mardian the Eunuch.
  Cleo. Let it alone, let's to Billiards: come Charmian
   Char. My arme is sore, best play with Mardian
   Cleopa. As well a woman with an Eunuch plaide, as
with a woman. Come you'le play with me Sir?
  Mardi. As well as I can Madam
   Cleo. And when good will is shewed,
Though't come to short
The Actor may pleade pardon. Ile none now,
Giue me mine Angle, weele to'th' Riuer there
My Musicke playing farre off. I will betray
Tawny fine fishes, my bended hooke shall pierce
Their slimy iawes: and as I draw them vp,
Ile thinke them euery one an Anthony,
And say, ah ha; y'are caught
   Char. 'Twas merry when you wager'd on your Angling,
when your diuer did hang a salt fish on his hooke
which he with feruencie drew vp
   Cleo. That time? Oh times:
I laught him out of patience: and that night
I laught him into patience, and next morne,
Ere the ninth houre, I drunke him to his bed:
Then put my Tires and Mantles on him, whilst
I wore his Sword Phillippan. Oh from Italie,
Enter a Messenger.
Ramme thou thy fruitefull tidings in mine eares,
That long time haue bin barren
   Mes. Madam, Madam
   Cleo. Anthonyo's dead.
If thou say so Villaine, thou kil'st thy Mistris:
But well and free, if thou so yeild him.
There is Gold, and heere
My blewest vaines to kisse: a hand that Kings
Haue lipt, and trembled kissing
   Mes. First Madam, he is well
   Cleo. Why there's more Gold.
But sirrah marke, we vse
To say, the dead are well: bring it to that,
The Gold I giue thee, will I melt and powr
Downe thy ill vttering throate
   Mes. Good Madam heare me
   Cleo. Well, go too I will:
But there's no goodnesse in thy face if Anthony
Be free and healthfull; so tart a fauour
To trumpet such good tidings. If not well,
Thou shouldst come like a Furie crown'd with Snakes,
Not like a formall man
   Mes. Wilt please you heare me?
  Cleo. I haue a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st:
Yet if thou say Anthony liues, 'tis well,
Or friends with Caesar, or not Captiue to him,
Ile set thee in a shower of Gold, and haile
Rich Pearles vpon thee
   Mes. Madam, he's well
   Cleo. Well said
   Mes. And Friends with Caesar
   Cleo. Th'art an honest man
   Mes. Caesar, and he, are greater Friends then euer
   Cleo. Make thee a Fortune from me
   Mes. But yet Madam
   Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does alay
The good precedence, fie vpon but yet,
But yet is as a Iaylor to bring foorth
Some monstrous Malefactor. Prythee Friend,
Powre out the packe of matter to mine eare,
The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar,
In state of health thou saist, and thou saist, free
   Mes. Free Madam, no: I made no such report,
He's bound vnto Octauia
   Cleo. For what good turne?
  Mes. For the best turne i'th' bed
   Cleo. I am pale Charmian
   Mes. Madam, he's married to Octauia
   Cleo. The most infectious Pestilence vpon thee.
Strikes him downe.
  Mes. Good Madam patience
   Cleo. What say you?
Strikes him.
Hence horrible Villaine, or Ile spurne thine eyes
Like balls before me: Ile vnhaire thy head,
She hales him vp and downe.
Thou shalt be whipt with Wyer, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingring pickle
   Mes. Gratious Madam,
I that do bring the newes, made not the match
   Cleo. Say 'tis not so, a Prouince I will giue thee,
And make thy Fortunes proud: the blow thou had'st
Shall make thy peace, for mouing me to rage,
And I will boot thee with what guift beside
Thy modestie can begge
   Mes. He's married Madam
   Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liu'd too long.
Draw a knife.
  Mes. Nay then Ile runne:
What meane you Madam, I haue made no fault.
  Char. Good Madam keepe your selfe within your selfe,
The man is innocent
   Cleo. Some Innocents scape not the thunderbolt:
Melt Egypt into Nyle: and kindly creatures
Turne all to Serpents. Call the slaue againe,
Though I am mad, I will not byte him: Call?
  Char. He is afeard to come
   Cleo. I will not hurt him,
These hands do lacke Nobility, that they strike
A meaner then my selfe: since I my selfe
Haue giuen my selfe the cause. Come hither Sir.
Enter the Messenger againe.
Though it be honest, it is neuer good
To bring bad newes: giue to a gratious Message
An host of tongues, but let ill tydings tell
Themselues, when they be felt
   Mes. I haue done my duty
   Cleo. Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worser then I do,
If thou againe say yes
   Mes. He's married Madam
   Cleo. The Gods confound thee,
Dost thou hold there still?
  Mes. Should I lye Madame?
  Cleo. Oh, I would thou didst:
So halfe my Egypt were submerg'd and made
A Cesterne for scal'd Snakes. Go get thee hence,
Had'st thou Narcissus in thy face to me,
Thou would'st appeere most vgly: He is married?
  Mes. I craue your Highnesse pardon
   Cleo. He is married?
  Mes. Take no offence, that I would not offend you,
To punnish me for what you make me do
Seemes much vnequall, he's married to Octauia
   Cleo. Oh that his fault should make a knaue of thee,
That art not what th'art sure of. Get thee hence,
The Marchandize which thou hast brought from Rome
Are all too deere for me:
Lye they vpon thy hand, and be vndone by em
   Char. Good your Highnesse patience
   Cleo. In praysing Anthony, I haue disprais'd Caesar
   Char. Many times Madam
   Cleo. I am paid for't now: lead me from hence,
I faint, oh Iras, Charmian: 'tis no matter.
Go to the Fellow, good Alexas bid him
Report the feature of Octauia: her yeares,
Her inclination, let him not leaue out
The colour of her haire. Bring me word quickly,
Let him for euer go, let him not Charmian,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
The other wayes a Mars. Bid you Alexas
Bring me word, how tall she is: pitty me Charmian,
But do not speake to me. Lead me to my Chamber.
Flourish. Enter Pompey, at one doore with Drum and Trumpet: at
Caesar, Lepidus, Anthony, Enobarbus, Mecenas, Agrippa, Menas
with Souldiers
  Pom. Your Hostages I haue, so haue you mine:
And we shall talke before we fight
   Caesar. Most meete that first we come to words,
And therefore haue we
Our written purposes before vs sent,
Which if thou hast considered, let vs know,
If 'twill tye vp thy discontented Sword,
And carry backe to Cicelie much tall youth,
That else must perish heere
   Pom. To you all three,
The Senators alone of this great world,
Chiefe Factors for the Gods. I do not know,
Wherefore my Father should reuengers want,
Hauing a Sonne and Friends, since Iulius Caesar,
Who at Phillippi the good Brutus ghosted,
There saw you labouring for him. What was't
That mou'd pale Cassius to conspire? And what
Made all-honor'd, honest, Romaine Brutus,
With the arm'd rest, Courtiers of beautious freedome,
To drench the Capitoll, but that they would
Haue one man but a man, and that his it
Hath made me rigge my Nauie. At whose burthen,
The anger'd Ocean fomes, with which I meant
To scourge th' ingratitude, that despightfull Rome
Cast on my Noble Father
   Caesar. Take your time
   Ant. Thou can'st not feare vs Pompey with thy sailes.
Weele speake with thee at Sea. At land thou know'st
How much we do o're-count thee
   Pom. At Land indeed
Thou dost orecount me of my Fathers house:
But since the Cuckoo buildes not for himselfe,
Remaine in't as thou maist
   Lepi. Be pleas'd to tell vs,
(For this is from the present how you take)
The offers we haue sent you
   Caesar. There's the point
   Ant. Which do not be entreated too,
But waigh what it is worth imbrac'd
  Caesar. And what may follow to try a larger Fortune
   Pom. You haue made me offer
Of Cicelie, Sardinia: and I must
Rid all the Sea of Pirats. Then, to send
Measures of Wheate to Rome: this greed vpon,
To part with vnhackt edges, and beare backe
Our Targes vndinted
   Omnes. That's our offer
   Pom. Know then I came before you heere,
A man prepar'd
To take this offer. But Marke Anthony,
Put me to some impatience: though I loose
The praise of it by telling. You must know
When Caesar and your Brother were at blowes,
Your Mother came to Cicelie, and did finde
Her welcome Friendly
   Ant. I haue heard it Pompey,
And am well studied for a liberall thanks,
Which I do owe you
   Pom. Let me haue your hand:
I did not thinke Sir, to haue met you heere,
  Ant. The beds i'th' East are soft, and thanks to you,
That cal'd me timelier then my purpose hither:
For I haue gained by't
   Caesar. Since I saw you last, ther's a change vpon you
   Pom. Well, I know not,
What counts harsh Fortune cast's vpon my face,
But in my bosome shall she neuer come,
To make my heart her vassaile
   Lep. Well met heere
   Pom. I hope so Lepidus, thus we are agreed:
I craue our composion may be written
And seal'd betweene vs,
  Caesar. That's the next to do
   Pom. Weele feast each other, ere we part, and lett's
Draw lots who shall begin
   Ant. That will I Pompey
   Pompey. No Anthony take the lot: but first or last,
your fine Egyptian cookerie shall haue the fame, I haue
heard that Iulius Caesar, grew fat with feasting there
   Anth. You haue heard much
   Pom. I haue faire meaning Sir
   Ant. And faire words to them
   Pom. Then so much haue I heard,
And I haue heard Appolodorus carried-
  Eno. No more that: he did so
   Pom. What I pray you?
  Eno. A certaine Queene to Caesar in a Matris
   Pom. I know thee now, how far'st thou Souldier?
  Eno. Well, and well am like to do, for I perceiue
Foure Feasts are toward
   Pom. Let me shake thy hand,
I neuer hated thee: I haue seene thee fight,
When I haue enuied thy behauiour
   Enob. Sir, I neuer lou'd you much, but I ha' prais'd ye,
When you haue well deseru'd ten times as much,
As I haue said you did
   Pom. Inioy thy plainnesse,
It nothing ill becomes thee:
Aboord my Gally, I inuite you all.
Will you leade Lords?
  All. Shew's the way, sir
   Pom. Come.
Exeunt. Manet Enob. & Menas]
  Men. Thy Father Pompey would ne're haue made this
Treaty. You, and I haue knowne sir
   Enob. At Sea, I thinke
   Men. We haue Sir
   Enob. You haue done well by water
   Men. And you by Land
   Enob. I will praise any man that will praise me, thogh
it cannot be denied what I haue done by Land
   Men. Nor what I haue done by water
   Enob. Yes some-thing you can deny for your owne
safety: you haue bin a great Theefe by Sea
   Men. And you by Land
   Enob. There I deny my Land seruice: but giue mee
your hand Menas, if our eyes had authority, heere they
might take two Theeues kissing
   Men. All mens faces are true, whatsomere their hands
   Enob. But there is neuer a fayre Woman, ha's a true
   Men. No slander, they steale hearts
   Enob. We came hither to fight with you
   Men. For my part, I am sorry it is turn'd to a Drinking.
Pompey doth this day laugh away his Fortune
   Enob. If he do, sure he cannot weep't backe againe
   Men. Y'haue said Sir, we look'd not for Marke Anthony
heere, pray you, is he married to Cleopatra?
  Enob. Caesars Sister is call'd Octauia
   Men. True Sir, she was the wife of Caius Marcellus
   Enob. But she is now the wife of Marcus Anthonius
   Men. Pray'ye sir
   Enob. 'Tis true
   Men. Then is Caesar and he, for euer knit together
   Enob. If I were bound to Diuine of this vnity, I wold
not Prophesie so
   Men. I thinke the policy of that purpose, made more
in the Marriage, then the loue of the parties
   Enob. I thinke so too. But you shall finde the band
that seemes to tye their friendship together, will bee the
very strangler of their Amity: Octauia is of a holy, cold,
and still conuersation
   Men. Who would not haue his wife so?
  Eno. Not he that himselfe is not so: which is Marke
Anthony: he will to his Egyptian dish againe: then shall
the sighes of Octauia blow the fire vp in Caesar, and (as I
said before) that which is the strength of their Amity,
shall proue the immediate Author of their variance. Anthony
will vse his affection where it is. Hee married but
his occasion heere
   Men. And thus it may be. Come Sir, will you aboord?
I haue a health for you
   Enob. I shall take it sir: we haue vs'd our Throats in
   Men. Come, let's away.
Musicke playes. Enter two or three Seruants with a Banket.
  1 Heere they'l be man: some o' their Plants are ill
rooted already, the least winde i'th' world wil blow them
   2 Lepidus is high Coulord
   1 They haue made him drinke Almes drinke
   2 As they pinch one another by the disposition, hee
cries out, no more; reconciles them to his entreatie, and
himselfe to'th' drinke
   1 But it raises the greater warre betweene him & his
   2 Why this it is to haue a name in great mens Fellowship:
I had as liue haue a Reede that will doe me no
seruice, as a Partizan I could not heaue
   1 To be call'd into a huge Sphere, and not to be seene
to moue in't, are the holes where eyes should bee, which
pittifully disaster the cheekes.
A Sennet sounded. Enter Caesar, Anthony, Pompey, Lepidus,
Mecenas, Enobarbus, Menes, with other Captaines.
  Ant. Thus do they Sir: they take the flow o'th' Nyle
By certaine scales i'th' Pyramid: they know
By'th' height, the lownesse, or the meane: If dearth
Or Foizon follow. The higher Nilus swels,
The more it promises: as it ebbes, the Seedsman
Vpon the slime and Ooze scatters his graine,
And shortly comes to Haruest
   Lep. Y'haue strange Serpents there?
  Anth. I Lepidus
   Lep. Your Serpent of Egypt, is bred now of your mud
by the operation of your Sun: so is your Crocodile
   Ant. They are so
   Pom. Sit, and some Wine: A health to Lepidus
   Lep. I am not so well as I should be:
But Ile ne're out
   Enob. Not till you haue slept: I feare me you'l bee in
   Lep. Nay certainly, I haue heard the Ptolomies Pyramisis
are very goodly things: without contradiction I
haue heard that
   Menas. Pompey, a word
   Pomp. Say in mine eare, what is't
   Men. Forsake thy seate I do beseech thee Captaine,
And heare me speake a word
   Pom. Forbeare me till anon.
Whispers in's Eare.
This Wine for Lepidus
   Lep. What manner o' thing is your Crocodile?
  Ant. It is shap'd sir like it selfe, and it is as broad as it
hath bredth; It is iust so high as it is, and mooues with it
owne organs. It liues by that which nourisheth it, and
the Elements once out of it, it Transmigrates
   Lep. What colour is it of?
  Ant. Of it owne colour too
   Lep. 'Tis a strange Serpent
   Ant. 'Tis so, and the teares of it are wet
   Caes Will this description satisfie him?
  Ant. With the Health that Pompey giues him, else he
is a very Epicure
   Pomp. Go hang sir, hang: tell me of that? Away:
Do as I bid you. Where's this Cup I call'd for?
  Men. If for the sake of Merit thou wilt heare mee,
Rise from thy stoole
   Pom. I thinke th'art mad: the matter?
  Men. I haue euer held my cap off to thy Fortunes
   Pom. Thou hast seru'd me with much faith: what's
else to say? Be iolly Lords
   Anth. These Quicke-sands Lepidus,
Keepe off, them for you sinke
   Men. Wilt thou be Lord of all the world?
  Pom. What saist thou?
  Men. Wilt thou be Lord of the whole world?
That's twice
   Pom. How should that be?
  Men. But entertaine it, and though thou thinke me
poore, I am the man will giue thee all the world
   Pom. Hast thou drunke well
   Men. No Pompey, I haue kept me from the cup,
Thou art if thou dar'st be, the earthly Ioue:
What ere the Ocean pales, or skie inclippes,
Is thine, if thou wilt ha't
   Pom. Shew me which way?
  Men. These three World-sharers, these Competitors
Are in thy vessell. Let me cut the Cable,
And when we are put off, fall to their throates:
All there is thine
   Pom. Ah, this thou shouldst haue done,
And not haue spoke on't. In me 'tis villanie,
In thee, 't had bin good seruice: thou must know,
'Tis not my profit that does lead mine Honour:
Mine Honour it, Repent that ere thy tongue,
Hath so betraide thine acte. Being done vnknowne,
I should haue found it afterwards well done,
But must condemne it now: desist, and drinke
   Men. For this, Ile neuer follow
Thy paul'd Fortunes more,
Who seekes and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd,
Shall neuer finde it more
   Pom. This health to Lepidus
   Ant. Beare him ashore,
Ile pledge it for him Pompey
   Eno. Heere's to thee Menas
   Men. Enobarbus, welcome
   Pom. Fill till the cup be hid
   Eno. There's a strong Fellow Menas
   Men. Why?
  Eno. A beares the third part of the world man: seest
  Men. The third part, then he is drunk: would it were
all, that it might go on wheeles
   Eno. Drinke thou: encrease the Reeles
   Men. Come
   Pom. This is not yet an Alexandrian Feast
   Ant. It ripen's, towards it: strike the Vessells hoa.
Heere's to Caesar
   Caesar. I could well forbear't, it's monstrous labour
when I wash my braine, and it grow fouler
   Ant. Be a Child o'th' time
   Caesar. Possesse it, Ile make answer: but I had rather
fast from all, foure dayes, then drinke so much in one
   Enob. Ha my braue Emperour, shall we daunce now
the Egyptian Backenals, and celebrate our drinke?
  Pom. Let's ha't good Souldier
   Ant. Come, let's all take hands,
Till that the conquering Wine hath steep't our sense,
In soft and delicate Lethe
   Eno. All take hands:
Make battery to our eares with the loud Musicke,
The while, Ile place you, then the Boy shall sing.
The holding euery man shall beate as loud,
As his strong sides can volly.
Musicke Playes. Enobarbus places them hand in hand.
Come thou Monarch of the Vine,
Plumpie Bacchus, with pinke eyne:
In thy Fattes our Cares be drown'd,
With thy Grapes our haires be Crown'd.
Cup vs till the world go round,
Cup vs till the world go round
   Caesar. What would you more?
Pompey goodnight. Good Brother
Let me request you of our grauer businesse
Frownes at this leuitie. Gentle Lords let's part,
You see we haue burnt our cheekes. Strong Enobarbe
Is weaker then the Wine, and mine owne tongue
Spleet's what it speakes: the wilde disguise hath almost
Antickt vs all. What needs more words? goodnight.
Good Anthony your hand
   Pom. Ile try you on the shore
   Anth. And shall Sir, giues your hand
   Pom. Oh Anthony, you haue my Father house.
But what, we are Friends?
Come downe into the Boate
   Eno. Take heed you fall not Menas: Ile not on shore,
No to my Cabin: these Drummes,
These Trumpets, Flutes: what
Let Neptune heare, we bid aloud farewell
To these great Fellowes. Sound and be hang'd, sound out.
Sound a Flourish with Drummes.
  Enor. Hoo saies a there's my Cap
   Men. Hoa, Noble Captaine, come.
Enter Ventidius as it were in triumph, the dead body of Pacorus
  Ven. Now darting Parthya art thou stroke, and now
Pleas'd Fortune does of Marcus Crassus death
Make me reuenger. Beare the Kings Sonnes body,
Before our Army, thy Pacorus Orades,
Paies this for Marcus Crassus
   Romaine. Noble Ventidius,
Whil'st yet with Parthian blood thy Sword is warme,
The Fugitiue Parthians follow. Spurre through Media,
Mesapotamia, and the shelters, whether
The routed flie. So thy grand Captaine Anthony
Shall set thee on triumphant Chariots, and
Put Garlands on thy head
   Ven. Oh Sillius, Sillius,
I haue done enough. A lower place note well
May make too great an act. For learne this Sillius,
Better to leaue vndone, then by our deed
Acquire too high a Fame, when him we serues away.
Caesar and Anthony, haue euer wonne
More in their officer, then person. Sossius
One of my place in Syria, his Lieutenant,
For quicke accumulation of renowne,
Which he atchiu'd by'th' minute, lost his fauour.
Who does i'th' Warres more then his Captaine can,
Becomes his Captaines Captaine: and Ambition
(The Souldiers vertue) rather makes choise of losse
Then gaine, which darkens him.
I could do more to do Anthonius good,
But 'twould offend him. And in his offence,
Should my performance perish
   Rom. Thou hast Ventidius that, without the which a
Souldier and his Sword graunts scarce distinction: thou
wilt write to Anthony
   Ven. Ile humbly signifie what in his name,
That magicall word of Warre we haue effected,
How with his Banners, and his well paid ranks,
The nere-yet beaten Horse of Parthia,
We haue iaded out o'th' Field
   Rom. Where is he now?
  Ven. He purposeth to Athens, whither with what hast
The waight we must conuay with's, will permit:
We shall appeare before him. On there, passe along.
Enter Agrippa at one doore, Enobarbus at another.
  Agri. What are the Brothers parted?
  Eno. They haue dispatcht with Pompey, he is gone,
The other three are Sealing. Octauia weepes
To part from Rome: Caesar is sad, and Lepidus
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas saies, is troubled
With the Greene-Sicknesse
   Agri. 'Tis a Noble Lepidus
   Eno. A very fine one: oh, how he loues Caesar
   Agri. Nay but how deerely he adores Mark Anthony
   Eno. Caesar? why he's the Iupiter of men
   Ant. What's Anthony, the God of Iupiter?
  Eno. Spake you of Caesar? How, the non-pareill?
  Agri. Oh Anthony, oh thou Arabian Bird!
  Eno. Would you praise Caesar, say Caesar go no further
   Agr. Indeed he plied them both with excellent praises
   Eno. But he loues Caesar best, yet he loues Anthony:
Hoo, Hearts, Tongues, Figure,
Scribes, Bards, Poets, cannot
Thinke speake, cast, write, sing, number: hoo,
His loue to Anthony. But as for Caesar,
Kneele downe, kneele downe, and wonder
   Agri. Both he loues
   Eno. They are his Shards, and he their Beetle, so:
This is to horse: Adieu, Noble Agrippa
   Agri. Good Fortune worthy Souldier, and farewell.
Enter Caesar, Anthony, Lepidus, and Octauia.
  Antho. No further Sir
   Caesar. You take from me a great part of my selfe:
Vse me well in't. Sister, proue such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest Band
Shall passe on thy approofe: most Noble Anthony,
Let not the peece of Vertue which is set
Betwixt vs, as the Cyment of our loue
To keepe it builded, be the Ramme to batter
The Fortresse of it: for better might we
Haue lou'd without this meane, if on both parts
This be not cherisht
   Ant. Make me not offended, in your distrust
   Caesar. I haue said
   Ant. You shall not finde,
Though you be therein curious, the lest cause
For what you seeme to feare, so the Gods keepe you,
And make the hearts of Romaines serue your ends:
We will heere part
   Caesar. Farewell my deerest Sister, fare thee well,
The Elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well
   Octa. My Noble Brother
   Anth. The Aprill's in her eyes, it is Loues spring,
And these the showers to bring it on: be cheerfull
   Octa. Sir, looke well to my Husbands house: and-
  Caesar. What Octauia?
  Octa. Ile tell you in your eare
   Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart informe her tongue.
The Swannes downe feather
That stands vpon the Swell at the full of Tide:
And neither way inclines
   Eno. Will Caesar weepe?
  Agr. He ha's a cloud in's face
   Eno. He were the worse for that were he a Horse, so is
he being a man
   Agri. Why Enobarbus:
When Anthony found Iulius Caesar dead,
He cried almost to roaring: And he wept,
When at Phillippi he found Brutus slaine
   Eno. That year indeed, he was trobled with a rheume,
What willingly he did confound, he wail'd,
Beleeu't till I weepe too
   Caesar. No sweet Octauia,
You shall heare from me still: the time shall not
Out-go my thinking on you
   Ant. Come Sir, come,
Ile wrastle with you in my strength of loue,
Looke heere I haue you, thus I let you go,
And giue you to the Gods
   Caesar. Adieu, be happy
   Lep. Let all the number of the Starres giue light
To thy faire way
   Caesar. Farewell, farewell.
Kisses Octauia.
  Ant. Farewell.
Trumpets sound. Exeunt.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.
  Cleo. Where is the Fellow?
  Alex. Halfe afeard to come
   Cleo. Go too, go too: Come hither Sir.
Enter the Messenger as before.
  Alex. Good Maiestie: Herod of Iury dare not looke
vpon you, but when you are well pleas'd
   Cleo. That Herods head, Ile haue: but how? When
Anthony is gone, through whom I might commaund it:
Come thou neere
   Mes. Most gratious Maiestie
   Cleo. Did'st thou behold Octauia?
  Mes. I dread Queene
   Cleo. Where?
  Mes. Madam in Rome, I lookt her in the face: and
saw her led betweene her Brother, and Marke Anthony
   Cleo. Is she as tall as me?
  Mes. She is not Madam
   Cleo. Didst heare her speake?
Is she shrill tongu'd or low?
  Mes. Madam, I heard her speake, she is low voic'd
   Cleo. That's not so good: he cannot like her long
   Char. Like her? Oh Isis: 'tis impossible
   Cleo. I thinke so Charmian: dull of tongue, & dwarfish
What Maiestie is in her gate, remember
If ere thou look'st on Maiestie
   Mes. She creepes: her motion, & her station are as one.
She shewes a body, rather then a life,
A Statue, then a Breather
   Cleo. Is this certaine?
  Mes. Or I haue no obseruance
   Cha. Three in Egypt cannot make better note
   Cleo. He's very knowing, I do perceiu't,
There's nothing in her yet.
The Fellow ha's good iudgement
   Char. Excellent
   Cleo. Guesse at her yeares, I prythee
   Mess. Madam, she was a widdow
   Cleo. Widdow? Charmian, hearke
   Mes. And I do thinke she's thirtie
   Cle. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?
  Mess. Round, euen to faultinesse
   Cleo. For the most part too, they are foolish that are
so. Her haire what colour?
  Mess. Browne Madam: and her forehead
As low as she would wish it
   Cleo. There's Gold for thee,
Thou must not take my former sharpenesse ill,
I will employ thee backe againe: I finde thee
Most fit for businesse. Go, make thee ready,
Our Letters are prepar'd
   Char. A proper man
   Cleo. Indeed he is so: I repent me much
That so I harried him. Why me think's by him,
This Creature's no such thing
   Char. Nothing Madam
   Cleo. The man hath seene some Maiesty, and should
   Char. Hath he seene Maiestie? Isis else defend: and
seruing you so long
   Cleopa. I haue one thing more to aske him yet good
Charmian: but 'tis no matter, thou shalt bring him to me
where I will write; all may be well enough
   Char. I warrant you Madam.
Enter Anthony and Octauia.
  Ant. Nay, nay Octauia, not onely that,
That were excusable, that and thousands more
Of semblable import, but he hath wag'd
New Warres 'gainst Pompey. Made his will, and read it,
To publicke eare, spoke scantly of me,
When perforce he could not
But pay me tearmes of Honour: cold and sickly
He vented then most narrow measure: lent me,
When the best hint was giuen him: he not took't,
Or did it from his teeth
   Octaui. Oh my good Lord,
Beleeue not all, or if you must beleeue,
Stomacke not all. A more vnhappie Lady,
If this deuision chance, ne're stood betweene
Praying for both parts:
The good Gods wil mocke me presently,
When I shall pray: Oh blesse my Lord, and Husband,
Vndo that prayer, by crying out as loud,
Oh blesse my Brother. Husband winne, winne Brother,
Prayes, and distroyes the prayer, no midway
'Twixt these extreames at all
   Ant. Gentle Octauia,
Let your best loue draw to that point which seeks
Best to preserue it: if I loose mine Honour,
I loose my selfe: better I were not yours
Then your so branchlesse. But as you requested,
Your selfe shall go between's, the meane time Lady,
Ile raise the preparation of a Warre
Shall staine your Brother, make your soonest hast,
So your desires are yours
   Oct. Thanks to my Lord,
The Ioue of power make me most weake, most weake,
Your reconciler: Warres 'twixt you twaine would be,
As if the world should cleaue, and that slaine men
Should soalder vp the Rift
   Anth. When it appeeres to you where this begins,
Turne your displeasure that way, for our faults
Can neuer be so equall, that your loue
Can equally moue with them. Prouide your going,
Choose your owne company, and command what cost
Your heart he's mind too.
Enter Enobarbus, and Eros.
  Eno. How now Friend Eros?
  Eros. Ther's strange Newes come Sir
   Eno. What man?
  Ero. Caesar & Lepidus haue made warres vpon Pompey
   Eno. This is old, what is the successe?
  Eros. Caesar hauing made vse of him in the warres
'gainst Pompey: presently denied him riuality, would not
let him partake in the glory of the action, and not resting
here, accuses him of Letters he had formerly wrote to
Pompey. Vpon his owne appeale seizes him, so the poore
third is vp, till death enlarge his Confine
   Eno. Then would thou hadst a paire of chaps no more,
and throw betweene them all the food thou hast, they'le
grinde the other. Where's Anthony?
  Eros. He's walking in the garden thus, and spurnes
The rush that lies before him. Cries Foole Lepidus,
And threats the throate of that his Officer,
That murdred Pompey
   Eno. Our great Nauies rig'd
   Eros. For Italy and Caesar, more Domitius,
My Lord desires you presently: my Newes
I might haue told heareafter
   Eno. 'Twillbe naught, but let it be: bring me to Anthony
   Eros. Come Sir,
Enter Agrippa, Mecenas, and Caesar.
  Caes Contemning Rome he ha's done all this, & more
In Alexandria: heere's the manner of't:
I'th' Market-place on a Tribunall siluer'd,
Cleopatra and himselfe in Chaires of Gold
Were publikely enthron'd: at the feet, sat
Caesarion whom they call my Fathers Sonne,
And all the vnlawfull issue, that their Lust
Since then hath made betweene them. Vnto her,
He gaue the stablishment of Egypt, made her
Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, absolute Queene
   Mece. This in the publike eye?
  Caesar. I'th' common shew place, where they exercise,
His Sonnes hither proclaimed the King of Kings,
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia
He gaue to Alexander. To Ptolomy he assign'd,
Syria, Silicia, and Phoenetia: she
In th' abiliments of the Goddesse Isis
That day appeer'd, and oft before gaue audience,
As 'tis reported so
   Mece. Let Rome be thus inform'd
   Agri. Who queazie with his insolence already,
Will their good thoughts call from him
   Caesar. The people knowes it,
And haue now receiu'd his accusations
   Agri. Who does he accuse?
  Caesar. Caesar, and that hauing in Cicilie
Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him
His part o'th' Isle. Then does he say, he lent me
Some shipping vnrestor'd. Lastly, he frets
That Lepidus of the Triumpherate, should be depos'd,
And being that, we detaine all his Reuenue
   Agri. Sir, this should be answer'd
   Caesar. 'Tis done already, and the Messenger gone:
I haue told him Lepidus was growne too cruell,
That he his high Authority abus'd,
And did deserue his change: for what I haue conquer'd,
I grant him part: but then in his Armenia,
And other of his conquer'd Kingdoms, I demand the like
  Mec. Hee'l neuer yeeld to that
   Caes Nor must not then be yeelded to in this.
Enter Octauia with her Traine.
  Octa. Haile Caesar, and my L[ord]. haile most deere Caesar
   Caesar. That euer I should call thee Cast-away
   Octa. You haue not call'd me so, nor haue you cause
   Caes Why haue you stoln vpon vs thus? you come not
Like Caesars Sister, The wife of Anthony
Should haue an Army for an Vsher, and
The neighes of Horse to tell of her approach,
Long ere she did appeare. The trees by'th' way
Should haue borne men, and expectation fainted,
Longing for what it had not. Nay, the dust
Should haue ascended to the Roofe of Heauen,
Rais'd by your populous Troopes: But you are come
A Market-maid to Rome, and haue preuented
The ostentation of our loue; which left vnshewne,
Is often left vnlou'd: we should haue met you
By Sea, and Land, supplying euery Stage
With an augmented greeting
   Octa. Good my Lord,
To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it
On my free-will. My Lord Marke Anthony,
Hearing that you prepar'd for Warre, acquainted
My greeued eare withall: whereon I begg'd
His pardon for returne
   Caes Which soone he granted,
Being an abstract 'tweene his Lust, and him
   Octa. Do not say so, my Lord
   Caes I haue eyes vpon him,
And his affaires come to me on the wind: wher is he now?
  Octa. My Lord, in Athens
   Caesar. No my most wronged Sister, Cleopatra
Hath nodded him to her. He hath giuen his Empire
Vp to a Whore, who now are leuying
The Kings o'th' earth for Warre. He hath assembled,
Bochus the King of Lybia, Archilaus
Of Cappadocia, Philadelphos King
Of Paphlagonia: the Thracian King Adullas,
King Manchus of Arabia, King of Pont,
Herod of Iewry, Mithridates King
Of Comageat, Polemen and Amintas,
The Kings of Mede, and Licoania,
With a more larger List of Scepters
   Octa. Aye me most wretched,
That haue my heart parted betwixt two Friends,
That does afflict each other
   Caes Welcom hither: your Letters did with-holde our breaking
Till we perceiu'd both how you were wrong led,
And we in negligent danger: cheere your heart,
Be you not troubled with the time, which driues
O're your content, these strong necessities,
But let determin'd things to destinie
Hold vnbewayl'd their way. Welcome to Rome,
Nothing more deere to me: You are abus'd
Beyond the marke of thought: and the high Gods
To do you Iustice, makes his Ministers
Of vs, and those that loue you. Best of comfort,
And euer welcom to vs
   Agrip. Welcome Lady
   Mec. Welcome deere Madam,
Each heart in Rome does loue and pitty you,
Onely th' adulterous Anthony, most large
In his abhominations, turnes you off,
And giues his potent Regiment to a Trull
That noyses it against vs
   Octa. Is it so sir?
  Caes Most certaine: Sister welcome: pray you
Be euer knowne to patience. My deer'st Sister.
Enter Cleopatra, and Enobarbus.
  Cleo. I will be euen with thee, doubt it not
   Eno. But why, why, why?
  Cleo. Thou hast forespoke my being in these warres,
And say'st it is not fit
   Eno. Well: is it, is it
   Cleo. If not, denounc'd against vs, why should not
we be there in person
   Enob. Well, I could reply: if wee should serue with
Horse and Mares together, the Horse were meerly lost:
the Mares would beare a Soldiour and his Horse
   Cleo. What is't you say?
  Enob. Your presence needs must puzle Anthony,
Take from his heart, take from his Braine, from's time,
What should not then be spar'd. He is already
Traduc'd for Leuity, and 'tis said in Rome,
That Photinus an Eunuch, and your Maides
Mannage this warre
   Cleo. Sinke Rome, and their tongues rot
That speake against vs. A Charge we beare i'th' Warre,
And as the president of my Kingdome will
Appeare there for a man. Speake not against it,
I will not stay behinde.
Enter Anthony and Camidias.
  Eno. Nay I haue done, here comes the Emperor
   Ant. Is it not strange Camidius,
That from Tarientum, and Brandusium,
He could so quickly cut the Ionian Sea,
And take in Troine. You haue heard on't (Sweet?)
  Cleo. Celerity is neuer more admir'd,
Then by the negligent
   Ant. A good rebuke,
Which might haue well becom'd the best of men
To taunt at slacknesse. Camidius, wee
Will fight with him by Sea
   Cleo. By Sea, what else?
  Cam. Why will my Lord, do so?
  Ant. For that he dares vs too't
   Enob. So hath my Lord, dar'd him to single fight
   Cam. I, and to wage this Battell at Pharsalia,
Where Caesar fought with Pompey. But these offers
Which serue not for his vantage, he shakes off,
And so should you
   Enob. Your Shippes are not well mann'd,
Your Marriners are Militers, Reapers, people
Ingrost by swift Impresse. In Caesars Fleete,
Are those, that often haue 'gainst Pompey fought,
Their shippes are yare, yours heauy: no disgrace
Shall fall you for refusing him at Sea,
Being prepar'd for Land
   Ant. By Sea, by Sea
   Eno. Most worthy Sir, you therein throw away
The absolute Soldiership you haue by Land,
Distract your Armie, which doth most consist
Of Warre-markt-footmen, leaue vnexecuted
Your owne renowned knowledge, quite forgoe
The way which promises assurance, and
Giue vp your selfe meerly to chance and hazard,
From firme Securitie
   Ant. Ile fight at Sea
   Cleo. I haue sixty Sailes, Caesar none better
   Ant. Our ouer-plus of shipping will we burne,
And with the rest full mann'd, from th' head of Action
Beate th' approaching Caesar. But if we faile,
We then can doo't at Land.
Enter a Messenger.
Thy Businesse?
  Mes. The Newes is true, my Lord, he is descried,
Caesar ha's taken Toryne
   Ant. Can he be there in person? 'Tis impossible
Strange, that his power should be. Camidius,
Our nineteene Legions thou shalt hold by Land,
And our twelue thousand Horse. Wee'l to our Ship,
Away my Thetis.
Enter a Soldiour.
How now worthy Souldier?
  Soul. Oh Noble Emperor, do not fight by Sea,
Trust not to rotten plankes: Do you misdoubt
This Sword, and these my Wounds; let th' Egyptians
And the Phoenicians go a ducking: wee
Haue vs'd to conquer standing on the earth,
And fighting foot to foot
   Ant. Well, well, away.
exit Ant. Cleo. & Enob
   Soul. By Hercules I thinke I am i'th' right
   Cam. Souldier thou art: but his whole action growes
Not in the power on't: so our Leaders leade,
And we are Womens mens
   Soul. You keepe by Land the Legions and the Horse
whole, do you not?
  Ven. Marcus Octauius, Marcus Iusteus,
Publicola, and Celius, are for Sea:
But we keepe whole by Land. This speede of Caesars
Carries beyond beleefe
   Soul. While he was yet in Rome,
His power went out in such distractions,
As beguilde all Spies
   Cam. Who's his Lieutenant, heare you?
  Soul. They say, one Towrus
   Cam. Well, I know the man.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. The Emperor cals Camidius
   Cam. With Newes the times with Labour,
And throwes forth each minute, some.
Enter Caesar with his Army, marching.
  Caes Towrus?
  Tow. My Lord
   Caes Strike not by Land,
Keepe whole, prouoke not Battaile
Till we haue done at Sea. Do not exceede
The Prescript of this Scroule: Our fortune lyes
Vpon this iumpe.
Enter Anthony, and Enobarbus.
  Ant. Set we our Squadrons on yond side o'th' Hill,
In eye of Caesars battaile, from which place
We may the number of the Ships behold,
And so proceed accordingly.
Camidius Marcheth with his Land Army one way ouer the stage,
the Lieutenant of Caesar the other way: After their going in, is
noise of a Sea fight. Alarum. Enter Enobarbus and Scarus.
  Eno. Naught, naught, al naught, I can behold no longer:
Thantoniad, the Egyptian Admirall,
With all their sixty flye, and turne the Rudder:
To see't, mine eyes are blasted.
Enter Scarrus.
  Scar. Gods, & Goddesses, all the whol synod of them!
  Eno. What's thy passion
   Scar. The greater Cantle of the world, is lost
With very ignorance, we haue kist away
Kingdomes, and Prouinces
   Eno. How appeares the Fight?
  Scar. On our side, like the Token'd Pestilence,
Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred Nagge of Egypt,
(Whom Leprosie o're-take) i'th' midst o'th' fight,
When vantage like a payre of Twinnes appear'd
Both as the same, or rather ours the elder;
(The Breeze vpon her) like a Cow in Iune,
Hoists Sailes, and flyes
   Eno. That I beheld:
Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not
Indure a further view
   Scar. She once being looft,
The Noble ruine of her Magicke, Anthony,
Claps on his Sea-wing, and (like a doting Mallard)
Leauing the Fight in heighth, flyes after her:
I neuer saw an Action of such shame;
Experience, Man-hood, Honor, ne're before,
Did violate so it selfe
   Enob. Alacke, alacke.
Enter Camidius
   Cam. Our Fortune on the Sea is out of breath,
And sinkes most lamentably. Had our Generall
Bin what he knew himselfe, it had gone well:
Oh his ha's giuen example for our flight,
Most grossely by his owne
   Enob. I, are you thereabouts? Why then goodnight
   Cam. Toward Peloponnesus are they fled
   Scar. 'Tis easie toot,
And there I will attend what further comes
   Camid. To Caesar will I render
My Legions and my Horse, sixe Kings alreadie
Shew me the way of yeelding
   Eno. Ile yet follow
The wounded chance of Anthony, though my reason
Sits in the winde against me.
Enter Anthony with Attendants.
  Ant. Hearke, the Land bids me tread no more vpon't,
It is asham'd to beare me. Friends, come hither,
I am so lated in the world, that I
Haue lost my way for euer. I haue a shippe,
Laden with Gold, take that, diuide it: flye,
And make your peace with Caesar
   Omnes. Fly? Not wee
   Ant. I haue fled my selfe, and haue instructed cowards
To runne, and shew their shoulders. Friends be gone,
I haue my selfe resolu'd vpon a course,
Which has no neede of you. Be gone,
My Treasure's in the Harbour. Take it: Oh,
I follow'd that I blush to looke vpon,
My very haires do mutiny: for the white
Reproue the browne for rashnesse, and they them
For feare, and doting. Friends be gone, you shall
Haue Letters from me to some Friends, that will
Sweepe your way for you. Pray you looke not sad,
Nor make replyes of loathnesse, take the hint
Which my dispaire proclaimes. Let them be left
Which leaues it selfe, to the Sea-side straight way;
I will possesse you of that ship and Treasure.
Leaue me, I pray a little: pray you now,
Nay do so: for indeede I haue lost command,
Therefore I pray you, Ile see you by and by.
Enter Cleopatra led by Charmian and Eros.
  Eros. Nay gentle Madam, to him, comfort him
   Iras. Do most deere Queene
   Char. Do, why, what else?
  Cleo. Let me sit downe: Oh Iuno
   Ant. No, no, no, no, no
   Eros. See you heere, Sir?
  Ant. Oh fie, fie, fie
   Char. Madam
   Iras. Madam, oh good Empresse
   Eros. Sir, sir
   Ant. Yes my Lord, yes; he at Philippi kept
His sword e'ne like a dancer, while I strooke
The leane and wrinkled Cassius, and 'twas I
That the mad Brutus ended: he alone
Dealt on Lieutenantry, and no practise had
In the braue squares of Warre: yet now: no matter
   Cleo. Ah stand by
   Eros. The Queene my Lord, the Queene
   Iras. Go to him, Madam, speake to him,
Hee's vnqualitied with very shame
   Cleo. Well then, sustaine me: Oh
   Eros. Most Noble Sir arise, the Queene approaches,
Her head's declin'd, and death will cease her, but
Your comfort makes the rescue
   Ant. I haue offended Reputation,
A most vnnoble sweruing
   Eros. Sir, the Queene
   Ant. Oh whether hast thou lead me Egypt, see
How I conuey my shame, out of thine eyes,
By looking backe what I haue left behinde
Stroy'd in dishonor
   Cleo. Oh my Lord, my Lord,
Forgiue my fearfull sayles, I little thought
You would haue followed
   Ant. Egypt, thou knew'st too well,
My heart was to thy Rudder tyed by'th' strings,
And thou should'st towe me after. O're my spirit
The full supremacie thou knew'st, and that
Thy becke, might from the bidding of the Gods
   Cleo. Oh my pardon
   Ant. Now I must
To the young man send humble Treaties, dodge
And palter in the shifts of lownes, who
With halfe the bulke o'th' world plaid as I pleas'd,
Making, and marring Fortunes. You did know
How much you were my Conqueror, and that
My Sword, made weake by my affection, would
Obey it on all cause
   Cleo. Pardon, pardon
   Ant. Fall not a teare I say, one of them rates
All that is wonne and lost: Giue me a kisse,
Euen this repayes me.
We sent our Schoolemaster, is a come backe?
Loue I am full of Lead: some Wine
Within there, and our Viands: Fortune knowes,
We scorne her most, when most she offers blowes.
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, and Dollabello, with others.
  Caes Let him appeare that's come from Anthony.
Know you him
   Dolla. Caesar, 'tis his Schoolemaster,
An argument that he is pluckt, when hither
He sends so poore a Pinnion of his Wing,
Which had superfluous Kings for Messengers,
Not many Moones gone by.
Enter Ambassador from Anthony.
  Caesar. Approach, and speake
   Amb. Such as I am, I come from Anthony:
I was of late as petty to his ends,
As is the Morne-dew on the Mertle leafe
To his grand Sea
   Caes Bee't so, declare thine office
   Amb. Lord of his Fortunes he salutes thee, and
Requires to liue in Egypt, which not granted
He Lessons his Requests, and to thee sues
To let him breath betweene the Heauens and Earth
A priuate man in Athens: this for him.
Next, Cleopatra does confesse thy Greatnesse,
Submits her to thy might, and of thee craues
The Circle of the Ptolomies for her heyres,
Now hazarded to thy Grace
   Caes For Anthony,
I haue no eares to his request. The Queene,
Of Audience, nor Desire shall faile, so shee
From Egypt driue her all-disgraced Friend,
Or take his life there. This if shee performe,
She shall not sue vnheard. So to them both
   Amb. Fortune pursue thee
   Caes Bring him through the Bands:
To try thy Eloquence, now 'tis time, dispatch,
From Anthony winne Cleopatra, promise
And in our Name, what she requires, adde more
From thine inuention, offers. Women are not
In their best Fortunes strong; but want will periure
The ne're touch'd Vestall. Try thy cunning Thidias,
Make thine owne Edict for thy paines, which we
Will answer as a Law
   Thid. Caesar. I go
   Caesar. Obserue how Anthony becomes his flaw,
And what thou think'st his very action speakes
In euery power that mooues
   Thid. Caesar, I shall.
Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, & Iras.
  Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus?
  Eno. Thinke, and dye
   Cleo. Is Anthony, or we in fault for this?
  Eno. Anthony onely, that would make his will
Lord of his Reason. What though you fled,
From that great face of Warre, whose seuerall ranges
Frighted each other? Why should he follow?
The itch of his Affection should not then
Haue nickt his Captain-ship, at such a point,
When halfe to halfe the world oppos'd, he being
The meered question? 'Twas a shame no lesse
Then was his losse, to course your flying Flagges,
And leaue his Nauy gazing
   Cleo. Prythee peace.
Enter the Ambassador, with Anthony.
  Ant. Is that his answer?
  Amb. I my Lord
   Ant. The Queene shall then haue courtesie,
So she will yeeld vs vp
   Am. He sayes so
   Antho. Let her know't. To the Boy Caesar send this
grizled head, and he will fill thy wishes to the brimme,
With Principalities
   Cleo. That head my Lord?
  Ant. To him againe, tell him he weares the Rose
Of youth vpon him: from which, the world should note
Something particular: His Coine, Ships, Legions,
May be a Cowards, whose Ministers would preuaile
Vnder the seruice of a Childe, as soone
As i'th' Command of Caesar. I dare him therefore
To lay his gay Comparisons a-part,
And answer me declin'd, Sword against Sword,
Our selues alone: Ile write it: Follow me
   Eno. Yes like enough: hye battel'd Caesar will
Vnstate his happinesse, and be Stag'd to'th' shew
Against a Sworder. I see mens Iudgements are
A parcell of their Fortunes, and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them
To suffer all alike, that he should dreame,
Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will
Answer his emptinesse; Caesar thou hast subdu'de
His iudgement too.
Enter a Seruant.
  Ser. A Messenger from Caesar
   Cleo. What no more Ceremony? See my Women,
Against the blowne Rose may they stop their nose,
That kneel'd vnto the Buds. Admit him sir
   Eno. Mine honesty, and I, beginne to square,
The Loyalty well held to Fooles, does make
Our Faith meere folly: yet he that can endure
To follow with Allegeance a falne Lord,
Does conquer him that did his Master conquer,
And earnes a place i'th' Story.
Enter Thidias.
  Cleo. Caesars will
   Thid. Heare it apart
   Cleo. None but Friends: say boldly
   Thid. So haply are they Friends to Anthony
   Enob. He needs as many (Sir) as Caesar ha's,
Or needs not vs. If Caesar please, our Master
Will leape to be his Friend: For vs you know,
Whose he is, we are, and that is Caesars
   Thid. So. Thus then thou most renown'd, Caesar intreats,
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st
Further then he is Caesars
   Cleo. Go on, right Royall
   Thid. He knowes that you embrace not Anthony
As you did loue, but as you feared him
   Thid. The scarre's vpon your Honor, therefore he
Does pitty, as constrained blemishes,
Not as deserued
   Cleo. He is a God,
And knowes what is most right. Mine Honour
Was not yeelded, but conquer'd meerely
   Eno. To be sure of that, I will aske Anthony.
Sir, sir, thou art so leakie
That we must leaue thee to thy sinking, for
Thy deerest quit thee.
  Thid. Shall I say to Caesar,
What you require of him: for he partly begges
To be desir'd to giue. It much would please him,
That of his Fortunes you should make a staffe
To leane vpon. But it would warme his spirits
To heare from me you had left Anthony,
And put your selfe vnder his shrowd, the vniuersal Landlord
   Cleo. What's your name?
  Thid. My name is Thidias
   Cleo. Most kinde Messenger,
Say to great Caesar this in disputation,
I kisse his conqu'ring hand: Tell him, I am prompt
To lay my Crowne at's feete, and there to kneele.
Tell him, from his all-obeying breath, I heare
The doome of Egypt
   Thid. 'Tis your Noblest course:
Wisedome and Fortune combatting together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. Giue me grace to lay
My dutie on your hand
   Cleo. Your Caesars Father oft,
(When he hath mus'd of taking kingdomes in)
Bestow'd his lips on that vnworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses.
Enter Anthony and Enobarbus.
  Ant. Fauours? By Ioue that thunders. What art thou Fellow?
  Thid. One that but performes
The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest
To haue command obey'd
   Eno. You will be whipt
   Ant. Approch there: ah you Kite. Now Gods & diuels
Authority melts from me of late. When I cried hoa,
Like Boyes vnto a musse, Kings would start forth,
And cry, your will. Haue you no eares?
I am Anthony yet. Take hence this Iack, and whip him.
Enter a Seruant.
  Eno. 'Tis better playing with a Lions whelpe,
Then with an old one dying
   Ant. Moone and Starres,
Whip him: wer't twenty of the greatest Tributaries
That do acknowledge Caesar, should I finde them
So sawcy with the hand of she heere, what's her name
Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him Fellowes,
Till like a Boy you see him crindge his face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence
   Thid. Marke Anthony
   Ant. Tugge him away: being whipt
Bring him againe, the Iacke of Caesars shall
Beare vs an arrant to him.
Exeunt. with Thidius.
You were halfe blasted ere I knew you: Ha?
Haue I my pillow left vnprest in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawfull Race,
And by a Iem of women, to be abus'd
By one that lookes on Feeders?
  Cleo. Good my Lord
   Ant. You haue beene a boggeler euer,
But when we in our viciousnesse grow hard
(Oh misery on't) the wise Gods seele our eyes
In our owne filth, drop our cleare iudgements, make vs
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut
To our confusion
   Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?
  Ant. I found you as a Morsell, cold vpon
Dead Caesars Trencher: Nay, you were a Fragment
Of Gneius Pompeyes, besides what hotter houres
Vnregistred in vulgar Fame, you haue
Luxuriously pickt out. For I am sure,
Though you can guesse what Temperance should be,
You know not what it is
   Cleo. Wherefore is this?
  Ant. To let a Fellow that will take rewards,
And say, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seale,
And plighter of high hearts. O that I were
Vpon the hill of Basan, to out-roare
The horned Heard, for I haue sauage cause,
And to proclaime it ciuilly, were like
A halter'd necke, which do's the Hangman thanke,
For being yare about him. Is he whipt?
Enter a Seruant with Thidias.
  Ser. Soundly, my Lord
   Ant. Cried he? and begg'd a Pardon?
  Ser. He did aske fauour
   Ant. If that thy Father liue, let him repent
Thou was't not made his daughter, and be thou sorrie
To follow Caesar in his Triumph, since
Thou hast bin whipt. For following him, henceforth
The white hand of a Lady Feauer thee,
Shake thou to looke on't. Get thee backe to Caesar,
Tell him thy entertainment: looke thou say
He makes me angry with him. For he seemes
Proud and disdainfull, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry,
And at this time most easie 'tis to doo't:
When my good Starres, that were my former guides
Haue empty left their Orbes, and shot their Fires
Into th' Abisme of hell. If he mislike,
My speech, and what is done, tell him he has
Hiparchus, my enfranched Bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like to quit me. Vrge it thou:
Hence with thy stripes, be gone.
  Cleo. Haue you done yet?
  Ant. Alacke our Terrene Moone is now Eclipst,
And it portends alone the fall of Anthony
   Cleo. I must stay his time?
  Ant. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes
With one that tyes his points
   Cleo. Not know me yet?
  Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?
  Cleo. Ah (Deere) if I be so,
From my cold heart let Heauen ingender haile,
And poyson it in the sourse, and the first stone
Drop in my necke: as it determines so
Dissolue my life, the next Caesarian smile,
Till by degrees the memory of my wombe,
Together with my braue Egyptians all,
By the discandering of this pelleted storme,
Lye grauelesse, till the Flies and Gnats of Nyle
Haue buried them for prey
   Ant. I am satisfied:
Caesar sets downe in Alexandria, where
I will oppose his Fate. Our force by Land,
Hath Nobly held, our seuer'd Nauie too
Haue knit againe, and Fleete, threatning most Sea-like.
Where hast thou bin my heart? Dost thou heare Lady?
If from the Field I shall returne once more
To kisse these Lips, I will appeare in Blood,
I, and my Sword, will earne our Chronicle,
There's hope in't yet
   Cleo. That's my braue Lord
   Ant. I will be trebble-sinewed, hearted, breath'd,
And fight maliciously: for when mine houres
Were nice and lucky, men did ransome liues
Of me for iests: But now, Ile set my teeth,
And send to darkenesse all that stop me. Come,
Let's haue one other gawdy night: Call to me
All my sad Captaines, fill our Bowles once more:
Let's mocke the midnight Bell
   Cleo. It is my Birth-day,
I had thought t'haue held it poore. But since my Lord
Is Anthony againe, I will be Cleopatra
   Ant. We will yet do well
   Cleo. Call all his Noble Captaines to my Lord
   Ant. Do so, wee'l speake to them,
And to night Ile force
The Wine peepe through their scarres.
Come on (my Queene)
There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight
Ile make death loue me: for I will contend
Euen with his pestilent Sythe.
  Eno. Now hee'l out-stare the Lightning, to be furious
Is to be frighted out of feare, and in that moode
The Doue will pecke the Estridge; and I see still
A diminution in our Captaines braine,
Restores his heart; when valour prayes in reason,
It eates the Sword it fights with: I will seeke
Some way to leaue him.
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, & Mecenas with his Army, Caesar reading
  Caes He calles me Boy, and chides as he had power
To beate me out of Egypt. My Messenger
He hath whipt with Rods, dares me to personal Combat.
Caesar to Anthony: let the old Ruffian know,
I haue many other wayes to dye: meane time
Laugh at his Challenge
   Mece. Caesar must thinke,
When one so great begins to rage, hee's hunted
Euen to falling. Giue him no breath, but now
Make boote of his distraction: Neuer anger
Made good guard for it selfe
   Caes Let our best heads know,
That to morrow, the last of many Battailes
We meane to fight. Within our Files there are,
Of those that seru'd Marke Anthony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done,
And Feast the Army, we haue store to doo't,
And they haue earn'd the waste. Poore Anthony.
Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas,
with others.
  Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitian?
  Ant. Why should he not?
  Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,
He is twenty men to one
   Ant. To morrow Soldier,
By Sea and Land Ile fight: or I will liue,
Or bathe my dying Honor in the blood
Shall make it liue againe. Woo't thou fight well
   Eno. Ile strike, and cry, Take all
   Ant. Well said, come on:
Call forth my Houshold Seruants, lets to night
Enter 3 or 4 Seruitors.
Be bounteous at our Meale. Giue me thy hand,
Thou hast bin rightly honest, so hast thou,
Thou, and thou, and thou: you haue seru'd me well,
And Kings haue beene your fellowes
   Cleo. What meanes this?
  Eno. 'Tis one of those odde tricks which sorow shoots
Out of the minde
   Ant. And thou art honest too:
I wish I could be made so many men,
And all of you clapt vp together, in
An Anthony: that I might do you seruice,
So good as you haue done
   Omnes. The Gods forbid
   Ant. Well, my good Fellowes, wait on me to night:
Scant not my Cups, and make as much of me,
As when mine Empire was your Fellow too,
And suffer'd my command
   Cleo. What does he meane?
  Eno. To make his Followers weepe
   Ant. Tend me to night;
May be, it is the period of your duty,
Haply you shall not see me more, or if,
A mangled shadow. Perchance to morrow,
You'l serue another Master. I looke on you,
As one that takes his leaue. Mine honest Friends,
I turne you not away, but like a Master
Married to your good seruice, stay till death:
Tend me to night two houres, I aske no more,
And the Gods yeeld you for't
   Eno. What meane you (Sir)
To giue them this discomfort? Looke they weepe,
And I an Asse, am Onyon-ey'd; for shame,
Transforme vs not to women
   Ant. Ho, ho, ho:
Now the Witch take me, if I meant it thus.
Grace grow where those drops fall (my hearty Friends)
You take me in too dolorous a sense,
For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you
To burne this night with Torches: Know (my hearts)
I hope well of to morrow, and will leade you,
Where rather Ile expect victorious life,
Then death, and Honor. Let's to Supper, come,
And drowne consideration.
Enter a Company of Soldiours.
  1.Sol. Brother, goodnight: to morrow is the day
   2.Sol. It will determine one way: Fare you well.
Heard you of nothing strange about the streets
   1 Nothing: what newes?
  2 Belike 'tis but a Rumour, good night to you
   1 Well sir, good night.
They meete other Soldiers.
  2 Souldiers, haue carefull Watch
   1 And you: Goodnight, goodnight.
They place themselues in euery corner of the Stage.
  2 Heere we: and if to morrow
Our Nauie thriue, I haue an absolute hope
Our Landmen will stand vp
   1 'Tis a braue Army, and full of purpose.
Musicke of the Hoboyes is vnder the Stage.
  2 Peace, what noise?
  1 List, list
   1 Musicke i'th' Ayre
   3 Vnder the earth
   4 It signes well, do's it not?
   1 Peace I say: What should this meane?
  2 'Tis the God Hercules, whom Anthony loued,
Now leaues him
   1 Walke, let's see if other Watchmen
Do heare what we do?
  2 How now Maisters?
Speak together.
  Omnes. How now? how now? do you heare this?
  1 I, is't not strange?
  3 Do you heare Masters? Do you heare?
  1 Follow the noyse so farre as we haue quarter.
Let's see how it will giue off
   Omnes. Content: 'Tis strange.
Enter Anthony and Cleopatra, with others.
  Ant. Eros, mine Armour Eros
   Cleo. Sleepe a little
   Ant. No my Chucke. Eros, come mine Armor Eros.
Come good Fellow, put thine Iron on,
If Fortune be not ours to day, it is
Because we braue her. Come
   Cleo. Nay, Ile helpe too, Anthony.
What's this for? Ah let be, let be, thou art
The Armourer of my heart: False, false: This, this,
Sooth-law Ile helpe: Thus it must bee
   Ant. Well, well, we shall thriue now.
Seest thou my good Fellow. Go, put on thy defences
   Eros. Briefely Sir
   Cleo. Is not this buckled well?
  Ant. Rarely, rarely:
He that vnbuckles this, till we do please
To daft for our Repose, shall heare a storme.
Thou fumblest Eros, and my Queenes a Squire
More tight at this, then thou: Dispatch. O Loue,
That thou couldst see my Warres to day, and knew'st
The Royall Occupation, thou should'st see
A Workeman in't.
Enter an Armed Soldier.
Good morrow to thee, welcome,
Thou look'st like him that knowes a warlike Charge:
To businesse that we loue, we rise betime,
And go too't with delight
   Soul. A thousand Sir, early though't be, haue on their
Riueted trim, and at the Port expect you.
Showt. Trumpets Flourish. Enter Captaines, and Souldiers.
  Alex. The Morne is faire: Good morrow Generall
   All. Good morrow Generall
   Ant. 'Tis well blowne Lads.
This Morning, like the spirit of a youth
That meanes to be of note, begins betimes.
So, so: Come giue me that, this way, well-sed.
Fare thee well Dame, what ere becomes of me,
This is a Soldiers kisse: rebukeable,
And worthy shamefull checke it were, to stand
On more Mechanicke Complement, Ile leaue thee.
Now like a man of Steele, you that will fight,
Follow me close, Ile bring you too't: Adieu.
  Char. Please you retyre to your Chamber?
  Cleo. Lead me:
He goes forth gallantly: That he and Caesar might
Determine this great Warre in single fight;
Then Anthony; but now. Well on.
Trumpets sound. Enter Anthony, and Eros.
  Eros. The Gods make this a happy day to Anthony
   Ant. Would thou, & those thy scars had once preuaild
To make me fight at Land
   Eros. Had'st thou done so,
The Kings that haue reuolted, and the Soldier
That has this morning left thee, would haue still
Followed thy heeles
   Ant. Whose gone this morning?
  Eros. Who? one euer neere thee, call for Enobarbus,
He shall not heare thee, or from Caesars Campe,
Say I am none of thine
   Ant. What sayest thou?
  Sold. Sir he is with Caesar
   Eros. Sir, his Chests and Treasure he has not with him
   Ant. Is he gone?
  Sol. Most certaine
   Ant. Go Eros, send his Treasure after, do it,
Detaine no iot I charge thee: write to him,
(I will subscribe) gentle adieu's, and greetings;
Say, that I wish he neuer finde more cause
To change a Master. Oh my Fortunes haue
Corrupted honest men. Dispatch Enobarbus.
Flourish. Enter Agrippa, Caesar, with Enobarbus, and Dollabella.
  Caes Go forth Agrippa, and begin the fight:
Our will is Anthony be tooke aliue:
Make it so knowne
   Agrip. Caesar, I shall
   Caesar. The time of vniuersall peace is neere:
Proue this a prosp'rous day, the three nook'd world
Shall beare the Oliue freely.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Anthony is come into the Field
   Caes Go charge Agrippa,
Plant those that haue reuolted in the Vant,
That Anthony may seeme to spend his Fury
Vpon himselfe.
  Enob. Alexas did reuolt, and went to Iewry on
Affaires of Anthony, there did disswade
Great Herod to incline himselfe to Caesar,
And leaue his Master Anthony. For this paines,
Caesar hath hang'd him: Camindius and the rest
That fell away, haue entertainment, but
No honourable trust: I haue done ill,
Of which I do accuse my selfe so sorely,
That I will ioy no more.
Enter a Soldier of Caesars.
  Sol. Enobarbus, Anthony
Hath after thee sent all thy Treasure, with
His Bounty ouer-plus. The Messenger
Came on my guard, and at thy Tent is now
Vnloading of his Mules
   Eno. I giue it you
   Sol. Mocke not Enobarbus,
I tell you true: Best you saf't the bringer
Out of the hoast, I must attend mine Office,
Or would haue done't my selfe. Your Emperor
Continues still a Ioue.
  Enob. I am alone the Villaine of the earth,
And feele I am so most. Oh Anthony,
Thou Mine of Bounty, how would'st thou haue payed
My better seruice, when my turpitude
Thou dost so Crowne with Gold. This blowes my hart,
If swift thought breake it not: a swifter meane
Shall out-strike thought, but thought will doo't. I feele
I fight against thee: No I will go seeke
Some Ditch, wherein to dye: the foul'st best fits
My latter part of life.
Alarum, Drummes and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa.
  Agrip. Retire, we haue engag'd our selues too farre:
Caesar himselfe ha's worke, and our oppression
Exceeds what we expected.
Alarums. Enter Anthony, and Scarrus wounded.
  Scar. O my braue Emperor, this is fought indeed,
Had we done so at first, we had drouen them home
With clowts about their heads.
  Ant. Thou bleed'st apace
   Scar. I had a wound heere that was like a T,
But now 'tis made an H
   Ant. They do retyre
   Scar. Wee'l beat 'em into Bench-holes, I haue yet
Roome for six scotches more
  Eros. They are beaten Sir, and our aduantage serues
For a faire victory
   Scar. Let vs score their backes,
And snatch 'em vp, as we take Hares behinde,
'Tis sport to maul a Runner
   Ant. I will reward thee
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and ten-fold
For thy good valour. Come thee on
   Scar. Ile halt after.
Alarum. Enter Anthony againe in a March. Scarrus, with others.
  Ant. We haue beate him to his Campe: Runne one
Before, & let the Queen know of our guests: to morrow
Before the Sun shall see's, wee'l spill the blood
That ha's to day escap'd. I thanke you all,
For doughty handed are you, and haue fought
Not as you seru'd the Cause, but as't had beene
Each mans like mine: you haue shewne all Hectors.
Enter the Citty, clip your Wiues, your Friends,
Tell them your feats, whil'st they with ioyfull teares
Wash the congealement from your wounds, and kisse
The Honour'd-gashes whole.
Enter Cleopatra.
Giue me thy hand,
To this great Faiery, Ile commend thy acts,
Make her thankes blesse thee. Oh thou day o'th' world,
Chaine mine arm'd necke, leape thou, Attyre and all
Through proofe of Harnesse to my heart, and there
Ride on the pants triumphing
   Cleo. Lord of Lords.
Oh infinite Vertue, comm'st thou smiling from
The worlds great snare vncaught
   Ant. Mine Nightingale,
We haue beate them to their Beds.
What Gyrle, though gray
Do somthing mingle with our yonger brown, yet ha we
A Braine that nourishes our Nerues, and can
Get gole for gole of youth. Behold this man,
Commend vnto his Lippes thy fauouring hand,
Kisse it my Warriour: He hath fought to day,
As if a God in hate of Mankinde, had
Destroyed in such a shape
   Cleo. Ile giue thee Friend
An Armour all of Gold: it was a Kings
   Ant. He has deseru'd it, were it Carbunkled
Like holy Phoebus Carre. Giue me thy hand,
Through Alexandria make a iolly March,
Beare our hackt Targets, like the men that owe them.
Had our great Pallace the capacity
To Campe this hoast, we all would sup together,
And drinke Carowses to the next dayes Fate
Which promises Royall perill, Trumpetters
With brazen dinne blast you the Citties eare,
Make mingle with our ratling Tabourines,
That heauen and earth may strike their sounds together,
Applauding our approach.
Enter a Centerie, and his Company, Enobarbus followes.
  Cent. If we be not releeu'd within this houre,
We must returne to'th' Court of Guard: the night
Is shiny, and they say, we shall embattaile
By'th' second houre i'th' Morne
   1.Watch. This last day was a shrew'd one too's
   Enob. Oh beare me witnesse night
   2 What man is this?
  1 Stand close, and list him
   Enob. Be witnesse to me (O thou blessed Moone)
When men reuolted shall vpon Record
Beare hatefull memory: poore Enobarbus did
Before thy face repent
   Cent. Enobarbus?
  2 Peace: Hearke further
   Enob. Oh Soueraigne Mistris of true Melancholly,
The poysonous dampe of night dispunge vpon me,
That Life, a very Rebell to my will,
May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart
Against the flint and hardnesse of my fault,
Which being dried with greefe, will breake to powder,
And finish all foule thoughts. Oh Anthony,
Nobler then my reuolt is Infamous,
Forgiue me in thine owne particular,
But let the world ranke me in Register
A Master leauer, and a fugitiue:
Oh Anthony! Oh Anthony!
  1 Let's speake to him
   Cent. Let's heare him, for the things he speakes
May concerne Caesar
   2 Let's do so; but he sleepes
   Cent. Swoonds rather, for so bad a Prayer as his
Was neuer yet for sleepe
   1 Go we to him
   2 Awake sir, awake, speake to vs
   1 Heare you sir?
  Cent. The hand of death hath raught him.
Drummes afarre off.
Hearke the Drummes demurely wake the sleepers:
Let vs beare him to'th' Court of Guard: he is of note:
Our houre is fully out
   2 Come on then, he may recouer yet.
Enter Anthony and Scarrus, with their Army.
  Ant. Their preparation is to day by Sea,
We please them not by Land
   Scar. For both, my Lord
   Ant. I would they'ld fight i'th' Fire, or i'th' Ayre,
Wee'ld fight there too. But this it is, our Foote
Vpon the hilles adioyning to the Citty
Shall stay with vs. Order for Sea is giuen,
They haue put forth the Hauen:
Where their appointment we may best discouer,
And looke on their endeuour.
Enter Caesar, and his Army.
  Caes But being charg'd, we will be still by Land,
Which as I tak't we shall, for his best force
Is forth to Man his Gallies. To the Vales,
And hold our best aduantage.
Alarum afarre off, as at a Sea-fight. Enter Anthony, and Scarrus.
  Ant. Yet they are not ioyn'd:
Where yon'd Pine does stand, I shall discouer all.
Ile bring thee word straight, how 'tis like to go.
  Scar. Swallowes haue built
In Cleopatra's Sailes their nests. The Auguries
Say, they know not, they cannot tell, looke grimly,
And dare not speake their knowledge. Anthony,
Is valiant, and deiected, and by starts
His fretted Fortunes giue him hope and feare
Of what he has, and has not.
Enter Anthony.
  Ant. All is lost:
This fowle Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My Fleete hath yeelded to the Foe, and yonder
They cast their Caps vp, and Carowse together
Like Friends long lost. Triple-turn'd Whore, 'tis thou
Hast sold me to this Nouice, and my heart
Makes onely Warres on thee. Bid them all flye:
For when I am reueng'd vpon my Charme,
I haue done all. Bid them all flye, be gone.
Oh Sunne, thy vprise shall I see no more,
Fortune, and Anthony part heere, euen heere
Do we shake hands? All come to this? The hearts
That pannelled me at heeles, to whom I gaue
Their wishes, do dis-Candie, melt their sweets
On blossoming Caesar: And this Pine is barkt,
That ouer-top'd them all. Betray'd I am.
Oh this false Soule of Egypt! this graue Charme,
Whose eye beck'd forth my Wars, & cal'd them home:
Whose Bosome was my Crownet, my chiefe end,
Like a right Gypsie, hath at fast and loose
Beguil'd me, to the very heart of losse.
What Eros, Eros?
Enter Cleopatra.
Ah, thou Spell! Auaunt
   Cleo. Why is my Lord enrag'd against his Loue?
  Ant. Vanish, or I shall giue thee thy deseruing,
And blemish Caesars Triumph. Let him take thee,
And hoist thee vp to the shouting Plebeians,
Follow his Chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy Sex. Most Monster-like be shewne
For poor'st Diminitiues, for Dolts, and let
Patient Octauia, plough thy visage vp
With her prepared nailes.
exit Cleopatra.
'Tis well th'art gone,
If it be well to liue. But better 'twere
Thou fell'st into my furie, for one death
Might haue preuented many. Eros, hoa!
The shirt of Nessus is vpon me, teach me
Alcides, thou mine Ancestor, thy rage.
Let me lodge Licas on the hornes o'th' Moone,
And with those hands that graspt the heauiest Club,
Subdue my worthiest selfe: The Witch shall die,
To the young Roman Boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Vnder this plot: She dyes for't. Eros hoa?
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Mardian.
  Cleo. Helpe me my women: Oh hee's more mad
Then Telamon for his Shield, the Boare of Thessaly
Was neuer so imbost
   Char. To'th' Monument, there locke your selfe,
And send him word you are dead:
The Soule and Body riue not more in parting,
Then greatnesse going off
   Cleo. To'th' Monument:
Mardian, go tell him I haue slaine my selfe:
Say, that the last I spoke was Anthony,
And word it (prythee) pitteously. Hence Mardian,
And bring me how he takes my death to'th' Monument.
Enter Anthony, and Eros.
  Ant. Eros, thou yet behold'st me?
  Eros. I Noble Lord
   Ant. Sometime we see a clowd that's Dragonish,
A vapour sometime, like a Beare, or Lyon,
A toward Cittadell, a pendant Rocke,
A forked Mountaine, or blew Promontorie
With Trees vpon't, that nodde vnto the world,
And mocke our eyes with Ayre.
Thou hast seene these Signes,
They are blacke Vespers Pageants
   Eros. I my Lord
   Ant. That which is now a Horse, euen with a thoght
the Racke dislimes, and makes it indistinct
As water is in water
   Eros. It does my Lord
   Ant. My good Knaue Eros, now thy Captaine is
Euen such a body: Heere I am Anthony,
Yet cannot hold this visible shape (my Knaue)
I made these warres for Egypt, and the Queene,
Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine:
Which whil'st it was mine, had annext vntoo't
A Million moe, (now lost:) shee Eros has
Packt Cards with Caesars, and false plaid my Glory
Vnto an Enemies triumph.
Nay, weepe not gentle Eros, there is left vs
Our selues to end our selues.
Enter Mardian.
Oh thy vilde Lady, she has rob'd me of my Sword
   Mar. No Anthony,
My Mistris lou'd thee, and her Fortunes mingled
with thine intirely
   Ant. Hence sawcy Eunuch peace, she hath betraid me,
And shall dye the death
   Mar. Death of one person, can be paide but once,
And that she ha's discharg'd. What thou would'st do
Is done vnto thy hand: the last she spake
Was Anthony, most Noble Anthony.
Then in the midd'st a tearing grone did breake
The name of Anthony: it was diuided
Betweene her heart, and lips: she tendred life
Thy name so buried in her
   Ant. Dead then?
   Ant. Vnarme Eros, the long dayes taske is done,
And we must sleepe: That thou depart'st hence safe
Does pay thy labour richly: Go.
exit Mardian.
Off, plucke off,
The seuen-fold shield of Aiax cannot keepe
The battery from my heart. Oh cleaue my sides.
Heart, once be stronger then thy Continent,
Cracke thy fraile Case. Apace Eros, apace;
No more a Soldier: bruised peeces go,
You haue bin Nobly borne. From me awhile.
I will o're-take thee Cleopatra, and
Weepe for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is Torture: since the Torch is out,
Lye downe and stray no farther. Now all labour
Marres what it does: yea, very force entangles
It selfe with strength: Seale then and all is done.
Eros? I come my Queene. Eros? Stay for me,
Where Soules do couch on Flowers, wee'l hand in hand,
And with our sprightly Port make the Ghostes gaze:
Dido, and her Aeneas shall want Troopes,
And all the haunt be ours. Come Eros, Eros.
  Eros. What would my Lord?
  Ant. Since Cleopatra dyed,
I haue liu'd in such dishonour, that the Gods
Detest my basenesse. I, that with my Sword,
Quarter'd the World, and o're greene Neptunes backe
With Ships, made Cities; condemne my selfe, to lacke
The Courage of a Woman, lesse Noble minde
Then she which by her death, our Caesar telles
I am Conqueror of my selfe. Thou art sworne Eros,
That when the exigent should come, which now
Is come indeed: When I should see behinde me
Th' ineuitable prosecution of disgrace and horror,
That on my command, thou then would'st kill me.
Doo't, the time is come: Thou strik'st not me,
'Tis Caesar thou defeat'st. Put colour in thy Cheeke
   Eros. The Gods with-hold me,
Shall I do that which all the Parthian Darts,
(Though Enemy) lost ayme, and could not
   Ant. Eros,
Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy Master thus with pleacht Armes, bending downe
His corrigible necke, his face subdu'de
To penetratiue shame; whil'st the wheel'd seate
Of Fortunate Caesar drawne before him, branded
His Basenesse that ensued
   Eros. I would not see't
   Ant. Come then: for with a wound I must be cur'd.
Draw that thy honest Sword, which thou hast worne
Most vsefull for thy Country
   Eros. Oh sir, pardon me
   Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st y not then
To do this when I bad thee? Do it at once,
Or thy precedent Seruices are all
But accidents vnpurpos'd. Draw, and come
   Eros. Turne from me then that Noble countenance,
Wherein the worship of the whole world lyes
   Ant. Loe thee
   Eros. My sword is drawne
   Ant. Then let it do at once
The thing why thou hast drawne it
   Eros. My deere Master,
My Captaine, and my Emperor. Let me say
Before I strike this bloody stroke, Farwell
   Ant. 'Tis said man, and farewell
   Eros. Farewell great Chiefe. Shall I strike now?
  Ant. Now Eros.
Killes himselfe.
  Eros. Why there then:
Thus I do escape the sorrow of Anthonies death
   Ant. Thrice-Nobler then my selfe,
Thou teachest me: Oh valiant Eros, what
I should, and thou could'st not, my Queene and Eros
Haue by their braue instruction got vpon me
A Noblenesse in Record. But I will bee
A Bride-groome in my death, and run intoo't
As to a Louers bed. Come then, and Eros,
Thy Master dies thy Scholler; to do thus
I learnt of thee. How, not dead? Not dead?
The Guard, how? Oh dispatch me.
Enter a Guard.
  1.Guard. What's the noise?
  Ant. I haue done my worke ill Friends:
Oh make an end of what I haue begun
   2 The Starre is falne
   1 And time is at his Period
   All. Alas, and woe
   Ant. Let him that loues me, strike me dead
   3 Nor any one.
  Decretus. Thy death and fortunes bid thy folowers fly
This sword but shewne to Caesar with this tydings,
Shall enter me with him.
Enter Diomedes.
  Dio. Where's Anthony?
  Decre. There Diomed there
   Diom. Liues he: wilt thou not answer man?
  Ant. Art thou there Diomed?
Draw thy sword, and giue mee,
Suffising strokes for death
   Diom. Most absolute Lord:
My Mistris Cleopatra sent me to thee
   Ant. When did shee send thee?
  Diom. Now my Lord
   Anth. Where is she?
  Diom. Lockt in her Monument: she had a Prophesying feare
Of what hath come to passe: for when she saw
(Which neuer shall be found) you did suspect
She had dispos'd with Caesar, and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was dead:
But fearing since how it might worke, hath sent
Me to proclaime the truth, and I am come
I dread, too late
   Ant. Too late good Diomed: call my Guard I prythee
   Dio. What hoa: the Emperors Guard,
The Guard, what hoa? Come, your Lord calles.
Enter 4. or 5. of the Guard of Anthony.
  Ant. Beare me good Friends where Cleopatra bides,
'Tis the last seruice that I shall command you
   1 Woe, woe are we sir, you may not liue to weare
All your true Followers out
   All. Most heauy day
   Ant. Nay good my Fellowes, do not please sharp fate
To grace it with your sorrowes. Bid that welcome
Which comes to punish vs, and we punish it
Seeming to beare it lightly. Take me vp,
I haue led you oft, carry me now good Friends,
And haue my thankes for all.
Exit bearing Anthony
Enter Cleopatra, and her Maides aloft, with Charmian & Iras.
  Cleo. Oh Charmian, I will neuer go from hence
   Char. Be comforted deere Madam
   Cleo. No, I will not:
All strange and terrible euents are welcome,
But comforts we dispise; our size of sorrow
Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great
As that which makes it.
Enter Diomed.
How now? is he dead?
  Diom. His death's vpon him, but not dead.
Looke out o'th other side your Monument,
His Guard haue brought him thither.
Enter Anthony, and the Guard.
  Cleo. Oh Sunne,
Burne the great Sphere thou mou'st in, darkling stand
The varrying shore o'th' world. O Antony, Antony, Antony
Helpe Charmian, helpe Iras helpe: helpe Friends
Below, let's draw him hither
   Ant. Peace,
Not Caesars Valour hath o'rethrowne Anthony,
But Anthonie's hath Triumpht on it selfe
   Cleo. So it should be,
That none but Anthony should conquer Anthony,
But woe 'tis so
   Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying; onely
I heere importune death a-while, vntill
Of many thousand kisses, the poore last
I lay vpon thy lippes
   Cleo. I dare not Deere,
Deere my Lord pardon: I dare not,
Least I be taken: nor th' Imperious shew
Of the full-Fortun'd Caesar, euer shall
Be brooch'd with me, if Knife, Drugges, Serpents haue
Edge, sting, or operation. I am safe:
Your Wife Octauia, with her modest eyes,
And still Conclusion, shall acquire no Honour
Demuring vpon me: but come, come Anthony,
Helpe me my women, we must draw thee vp:
Assist good Friends
   Ant. Oh quicke, or I am gone
   Cleo. Heere's sport indeede:
How heauy weighes my Lord?
Our strength is all gone into heauinesse,
That makes the waight. Had I great Iuno's power,
The strong wing'd Mercury should fetch thee vp,
And set thee by Ioues side. Yet come a little,
Wishers were euer Fooles. Oh come, come, come,
They heaue Anthony aloft to Cleopatra.
And welcome, welcome. Dye when thou hast liu'd,
Quicken with kissing: had my lippes that power,
Thus would I weare them out
   All. A heauy sight
   Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying.
Giue me some Wine, and let me speake a little
   Cleo. No, let me speake, and let me rayle so hye,
That the false Huswife Fortune, breake her Wheele,
Prouok'd by my offence
   Ant. One word (sweet Queene)
Of Caesar seeke your Honour, with your safety. Oh
   Cleo. They do not go together
   Ant. Gentle heare me,
None about Caesar trust, but Proculeius
   Cleo. My Resolution, and my hands, Ile trust,
None about Caesar
   Ant. The miserable change now at my end,
Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts
In feeding them with those my former Fortunes
Wherein I liued. The greatest Prince o'th' world,
The Noblest: and do now not basely dye,
Not Cowardly put off my Helmet to
My Countreyman. A Roman, by a Roman
Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my Spirit is going,
I can no more
   Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't dye?
Hast thou no care of me, shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better then a Stye? Oh see my women:
The Crowne o'th' earth doth melt. My Lord?
Oh wither'd is the Garland of the Warre,
The Souldiers pole is falne: young Boyes and Gyrles
Are leuell now with men: The oddes is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkeable
Beneath the visiting Moone
   Char. Oh quietnesse, Lady
   Iras. She's dead too, our Soueraigne
   Char. Lady
   Iras. Madam
   Char. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam
   Iras. Royall Egypt: Empresse
   Char. Peace, peace, Iras
   Cleo. No more but in a Woman, and commanded
By such poore passion, as the Maid that Milkes,
And doe's the meanest chares. It were for me,
To throw my Scepter at the iniurious Gods,
To tell them that this World did equall theyrs,
Till they had stolne our Iewell. All's but naught:
Patience is sortish, and impatience does
Become a Dogge that's mad: Then is it sinne,
To rush into the secret house of death,
Ere death dare come to vs. How do you Women?
What, what good cheere? Why how now Charmian?
My Noble Gyrles? Ah Women, women! Looke
Our Lampe is spent, it's out. Good sirs, take heart,
Wee'l bury him: And then, what's braue, what's Noble,
Let's doo't after the high Roman fashion,
And make death proud to take vs. Come, away,
This case of that huge Spirit now is cold.
Ah Women, Women! Come, we haue no Friend
But Resolution, and the breefest end.
Exeunt., bearing of Anthonies body.
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Dollabella, Menas, with his Counsell of
  Caesar. Go to him Dollabella, bid him yeeld,
Being so frustrate, tell him,
He mockes the pawses that he makes
   Dol. Caesar, I shall.
Enter Decretas with the sword of Anthony.
  Caes Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'st
Appeare thus to vs?
  Dec. I am call'd Decretas,
Marke Anthony I seru'd, who best was worthie
Best to be seru'd: whil'st he stood vp, and spoke
He was my Master, and I wore my life
To spend vpon his haters. If thou please
To take me to thee, as I was to him,
Ile be to Caesar: if y pleasest not, I yeild thee vp my life
   Caesar. What is't thou say'st?
  Dec. I say (Oh Caesar) Anthony is dead
   Caesar. The breaking of so great a thing, should make
A greater cracke. The round World
Should haue shooke Lyons into ciuill streets,
And Cittizens to their dennes. The death of Anthony
Is not a single doome, in the name lay
A moity of the world
   Dec. He is dead Caesar,
Not by a publike minister of Iustice,
Nor by a hyred Knife, but that selfe-hand
Which writ his Honor in the Acts it did,
Hath with the Courage which the heart did lend it,
Splitted the heart. This is his Sword,
I robb'd his wound of it: behold it stain'd
With his most Noble blood
   Caes Looke you sad Friends,
The Gods rebuke me, but it is Tydings
To wash the eyes of Kings
   Dol. And strange it is,
That Nature must compell vs to lament
Our most persisted deeds
   Mec. His taints and Honours, wag'd equal with him
   Dola. A Rarer spirit neuer
Did steere humanity: but you Gods will giue vs
Some faults to make vs men. Caesar is touch'd
   Mec. When such a spacious Mirror's set before him,
He needes must see him selfe
   Caesar. Oh Anthony,
I haue followed thee to this, but we do launch
Diseases in our Bodies. I must perforce
Haue shewne to thee such a declining day,
Or looke on thine: we could not stall together,
In the whole world. But yet let me lament
With teares as Soueraigne as the blood of hearts,
That thou my Brother, my Competitor,
In top of all designe; my Mate in Empire,
Friend and Companion in the front of Warre,
The Arme of mine owne Body, and the Heart
Where mine his thoughts did kindle; that our Starres
Vnreconciliable, should diuide our equalnesse to this.
Heare me good Friends,
But I will tell you at some meeter Season,
The businesse of this man lookes out of him,
Wee'l heare him what he sayes.
Enter an aegyptian.
Whence are you?
  aegyp. A poore Egyptian yet, the Queen my mistris
Confin'd in all, she has her Monument
Of thy intents, desires, instruction,
That she preparedly may frame her selfe
To'th' way shee's forc'd too
   Caesar. Bid her haue good heart,
She soone shall know of vs, by some of ours,
How honourable, and how kindely Wee
Determine for her. For Caesar cannot leaue to be vngentle
  aegypt. So the Gods preserue thee.
  Caes Come hither Proculeius. Go and say
We purpose her no shame: giue her what comforts
The quality of her passion shall require;
Least in her greatnesse, by some mortall stroke
She do defeate vs. For her life in Rome,
Would be eternall in our Triumph: Go,
And with your speediest bring vs what she sayes,
And how you finde of her
   Pro. Caesar I shall.
Exit Proculeius.
  Caes Gallus, go you along: where's Dolabella, to second
  All. Dolabella
   Caes Let him alone: for I remember now
How hee's imployd: he shall in time be ready.
Go with me to my Tent, where you shall see
How hardly I was drawne into this Warre,
How calme and gentle I proceeded still
In all my Writings. Go with me, and see
What I can shew in this.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.
  Cleo. My desolation does begin to make
A better life: Tis paltry to be Caesar:
Not being Fortune, hee's but Fortunes knaue,
A minister of her will: and it is great
To do that thing that ends all other deeds,
Which shackles accedents, and bolts vp change;
Which sleepes, and neuer pallates more the dung,
The beggers Nurse, and Caesars.
Enter Proculeius.
  Pro. Caesar sends greeting to the Queene of Egypt,
And bids thee study on what faire demands
Thou mean'st to haue him grant thee
   Cleo. What's thy name?
  Pro. My name is Proculeius
   Cleo. Anthony
Did tell me of you, bad me trust you, but
I do not greatly care to be deceiu'd
That haue no vse for trusting. If your Master
Would haue a Queene his begger, you must tell him,
That Maiesty to keepe decorum, must
No lesse begge then a Kingdome: If he please
To giue me conquer'd Egypt for my Sonne,
He giues me so much of mine owne, as I
Will kneele to him with thankes
   Pro. Be of good cheere:
Y'are falne into a Princely hand, feare nothing,
Make your full reference freely to my Lord,
Who is so full of Grace, that it flowes ouer
On all that neede. Let me report to him
Your sweet dependancie, and you shall finde
A Conqueror that will pray in ayde for kindnesse,
Where he for grace is kneel'd too
   Cleo. Pray you tell him,
I am his Fortunes Vassall, and I send him
The Greatnesse he has got. I hourely learne
A Doctrine of Obedience, and would gladly
Looke him i'th' Face
   Pro. This Ile report (deere Lady)
Haue comfort, for I know your plight is pittied
Of him that caus'd it
   Pro. You see how easily she may be surpriz'd:
Guard her till Caesar come
   Iras. Royall Queene
   Char. Oh Cleopatra, thou art taken Queene
   Cleo. Quicke, quicke, good hands
   Pro. Hold worthy Lady, hold:
Doe not your selfe such wrong, who are in this
Releeu'd, but not betraid
   Cleo. What of death too that rids our dogs of languish
  Pro. Cleopatra, do not abuse my Masters bounty, by
Th' vndoing of your selfe: Let the World see
His Noblenesse well acted, which your death
Will neuer let come forth
   Cleo. Where art thou Death?
Come hither come; Come, come, and take a Queene
Worth many Babes and Beggers
   Pro. Oh temperance Lady
   Cleo. Sir, I will eate no meate, Ile not drinke sir,
If idle talke will once be necessary
Ile not sleepe neither. This mortall house Ile ruine,
Do Caesar what he can. Know sir, that I
Will not waite pinnion'd at your Masters Court,
Nor once be chastic'd with the sober eye
Of dull Octauia. Shall they hoyst me vp,
And shew me to the showting Varlotarie
Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt.
Be gentle graue vnto me, rather on Nylus mudde
Lay me starke-nak'd, and let the water-Flies
Blow me into abhorring; rather make
My Countries high pyramides my Gibbet,
And hang me vp in Chaines
   Pro. You do extend
These thoughts of horror further then you shall
Finde cause in Caesar.
Enter Dolabella.
  Dol. Proculeius,
What thou hast done, thy Master Caesar knowes,
And he hath sent for thee: for the Queene,
Ile take her to my Guard
   Pro. So Dolabella,
It shall content me best: Be gentle to her,
To Caesar I will speake, what you shall please,
If you'l imploy me to him.
Exit Proculeius
  Cleo. Say, I would dye
   Dol. Most Noble Empresse, you haue heard of me
   Cleo. I cannot tell
   Dol. Assuredly you know me
   Cleo. No matter sir, what I haue heard or knowne:
You laugh when Boyes or Women tell their Dreames,
Is't not your tricke?
  Dol. I vnderstand not, Madam
   Cleo. I dreampt there was an Emperor Anthony.
Oh such another sleepe, that I might see
But such another man
   Dol. If it might please ye
   Cleo. His face was as the Heau'ns, and therein stucke
A Sunne and Moone, which kept their course, & lighted
The little o'th' earth
   Dol. Most Soueraigne Creature
   Cleo. His legges bestrid the Ocean, his rear'd arme
Crested the world: His voyce was propertied
As all the tuned Spheres, and that to Friends:
But when he meant to quaile, and shake the Orbe,
He was as ratling Thunder. For his Bounty,
There was no winter in't. An Anthony it was,
That grew the more by reaping: His delights
Were Dolphin-like, they shew'd his backe aboue
The Element they liu'd in: In his Liuery
Walk'd Crownes and Crownets: Realms & Islands were
As plates dropt from his pocket
   Dol. Cleopatra
   Cleo. Thinke you there was, or might be such a man
As this I dreampt of?
  Dol. Gentle Madam, no
   Cleo. You Lye vp to the hearing of the Gods:
But if there be, not euer were one such
It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuffe
To vie strange formes with fancie, yet t' imagine
An Anthony were Natures peece, 'gainst Fancie,
Condemning shadowes quite
   Dol. Heare me, good Madam:
Your losse is as your selfe, great; and you beare it
As answering to the waight, would I might neuer
Ore-take pursu'de successe: But I do feele
By the rebound of yours, a greefe that suites
My very heart at roote
   Cleo. I thanke you sir:
Know you what Caesar meanes to do with me?
  Dol. I am loath to tell you what, I would you knew
   Cleo. Nay pray you sir
   Dol. Though he be Honourable
   Cleo. Hee'l leade me then in Triumph
   Dol. Madam he will, I know't.
Enter Proculeius, Caesar, Gallus, Mecenas, and others of his
  All. Make way there Caesar
   Caes Which is the Queene of Egypt
   Dol. It is the Emperor Madam.
Cleo. kneeles.
  Caesar. Arise, you shall not kneele:
I pray you rise, rise Egypt
   Cleo. Sir, the Gods will haue it thus,
My Master and my Lord I must obey,
  Caesar. Take to you no hard thoughts,
The Record of what iniuries you did vs,
Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
As things but done by chance
   Cleo. Sole Sir o'th' World,
I cannot proiect mine owne cause so well
To make it cleare, but do confesse I haue
Bene laden with like frailties, which before
Haue often sham'd our Sex
   Caesar. Cleopatra know,
We will extenuate rather then inforce:
If you apply your selfe to our intents,
Which towards you are most gentle, you shall finde
A benefit in this change: but if you seeke
To lay on me a Cruelty, by taking
Anthonies course, you shall bereaue your selfe
Of my good purposes, and put your children
To that destruction which Ile guard them from,
If thereon you relye. Ile take my leaue
   Cleo. And may through all the world: tis yours, & we
your Scutcheons, and your signes of Conquest shall
Hang in what place you please. Here my good Lord
   Caesar. You shall aduise me in all for Cleopatra
   Cleo. This is the breefe: of Money, Plate, & Iewels
I am possest of, 'tis exactly valewed,
Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?
  Seleu. Heere Madam
   Cleo. This is my Treasurer, let him speake (my Lord)
Vpon his perill, that I haue reseru'd
To my selfe nothing. Speake the truth Seleucus
   Seleu. Madam, I had rather seele my lippes,
Then to my perill speake that which is not
   Cleo. What haue I kept backe
   Sel. Enough to purchase what you haue made known
  Caesar. Nay blush not Cleopatra, I approue
Your Wisedome in the deede
   Cleo. See Caesar: Oh behold,
How pompe is followed: Mine will now be yours,
And should we shift estates, yours would be mine.
The ingratitude of this Seleucus, does
Euen make me wilde. Oh Slaue, of no more trust
Then loue that's hyr'd? What goest thou backe, y shalt
Go backe I warrant thee: but Ile catch thine eyes
Though they had wings. Slaue, Soule-lesse, Villain, Dog.
O rarely base!
  Caesar. Good Queene, let vs intreat you
   Cleo. O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this,
That thou vouchsafing heere to visit me,
Doing the Honour of thy Lordlinesse
To one so meeke, that mine owne Seruant should
Parcell the summe of my disgraces, by
Addition of his Enuy. Say (good Caesar)
That I some Lady trifles haue reseru'd,
Immoment toyes, things of such Dignitie
As we greet moderne Friends withall, and say
Some Nobler token I haue kept apart
For Liuia and Octauia, to induce
Their mediation, must I be vnfolded
With one that I haue bred: The Gods! it smites me
Beneath the fall I haue. Prythee go hence,
Or I shall shew the Cynders of my spirits
Through th' Ashes of my chance: Wer't thou a man,
Thou would'st haue mercy on me
   Caesar. Forbeare Seleucus
   Cleo. Be it known, that we the greatest are mis-thoght
For things that others do: and when we fall,
We answer others merits, in our name
Are therefore to be pittied
   Caesar. Cleopatra,
Not what you haue reseru'd, nor what acknowledg'd
Put we i'th' Roll of Conquest: still bee't yours,
Bestow it at your pleasure, and beleeue
Caesars no Merchant, to make prize with you
Of things that Merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd,
Make not your thoughts your prisons: No deere Queen,
For we intend so to dispose you, as
Your selfe shall giue vs counsell: Feede, and sleepe:
Our care and pitty is so much vpon you,
That we remaine your Friend, and so adieu
   Cleo. My Master, and my Lord
   Caesar. Not so: Adieu.
Flourish. Exeunt Caesar, and his Traine.
  Cleo. He words me Gyrles, he words me,
That I should not be Noble to my selfe.
But hearke thee Charmian
   Iras. Finish good Lady, the bright day is done,
And we are for the darke
   Cleo. Hye thee againe,
I haue spoke already, and it is prouided,
Go put it to the haste
   Char. Madam, I will.
Enter Dolabella.
  Dol. Where's the Queene?
  Char. Behold sir
   Cleo. Dolabella
   Dol. Madam, as thereto sworne, by your command
(Which my loue makes Religion to obey)
I tell you this: Caesar through Syria
Intends his iourney, and within three dayes,
You with your Children will he send before,
Make your best vse of this. I haue perform'd
Your pleasure, and my promise
   Cleo. Dolabella, I shall remaine your debter
   Dol. I your Seruant:
Adieu good Queene, I must attend on Caesar.
  Cleo. Farewell, and thankes.
Now Iras, what think'st thou?
Thou, an Egyptian Puppet shall be shewne
In Rome aswell as I: Mechanicke Slaues
With greazie Aprons, Rules, and Hammers shall
Vplift vs to the view. In their thicke breathes,
Ranke of grosse dyet, shall we be enclowded,
And forc'd to drinke their vapour
   Iras. The Gods forbid
   Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certaine Iras: sawcie Lictors
Will catch at vs like Strumpets, and scald Rimers
Ballads vs out a Tune. The quicke Comedians
Extemporally will stage vs, and present
Our Alexandrian Reuels: Anthony
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
Some squeaking Cleopatra Boy my greatnesse
I'th' posture of a Whore
   Iras. O the good Gods!
  Cleo. Nay that's certaine
   Iras. Ile neuer see't? for I am sure mine Nailes
Are stronger then mine eyes
   Cleo. Why that's the way to foole their preparation,
And to conquer their most absurd intents.
Enter Charmian.
Now Charmian.
Shew me my Women like a Queene: Go fetch
My best Attyres. I am againe for Cidrus,
To meete Marke Anthony. Sirra Iras, go
(Now Noble Charmian, wee'l dispatch indeede,)
And when thou hast done this chare, Ile giue thee leaue
To play till Doomesday: bring our Crowne, and all.
A noise within.
Wherefore's this noise?
Enter a Guardsman.
  Gards. Heere is a rurall Fellow,
That will not be deny'de your Highnesse presence,
He brings you Figges
   Cleo. Let him come in.
Exit Guardsman.
What poore an Instrument
May do a Noble deede: he brings me liberty:
My Resolution's plac'd, and I haue nothing
Of woman in me: Now from head to foote
I am Marble constant: now the fleeting Moone
No Planet is of mine.
Enter Guardsman, and Clowne.
  Guards. This is the man
   Cleo. Auoid, and leaue him.
Exit Guardsman.
Hast thou the pretty worme of Nylus there,
That killes and paines not?
  Clow. Truly I haue him: but I would not be the partie
that should desire you to touch him, for his byting is
immortall: those that doe dye of it, doe seldome or neuer
   Cleo. Remember'st thou any that haue dyed on't?
  Clow. Very many, men and women too. I heard of
one of them no longer then yesterday, a very honest woman,
but something giuen to lye, as a woman should not
do, but in the way of honesty, how she dyed of the byting
of it, what paine she felt: Truely, she makes a verie
good report o'th' worme: but he that wil beleeue all that
they say, shall neuer be saued by halfe that they do: but
this is most falliable, the Worme's an odde Worme
   Cleo. Get thee hence, farewell
   Clow. I wish you all ioy of the Worme
   Cleo. Farewell
   Clow. You must thinke this (looke you,) that the
Worme will do his kinde
   Cleo. I, I, farewell
   Clow. Looke you, the Worme is not to bee trusted,
but in the keeping of wise people: for indeede, there is
no goodnesse in the Worme
   Cleo. Take thou no care, it shall be heeded
   Clow. Very good: giue it nothing I pray you, for it
is not worth the feeding
   Cleo. Will it eate me?
  Clow. You must not think I am so simple, but I know
the diuell himselfe will not eate a woman: I know, that
a woman is a dish for the Gods, if the diuell dresse her
not. But truly, these same whorson diuels doe the Gods
great harme in their women: for in euery tenne that they
make, the diuels marre fiue
   Cleo. Well, get thee gone, farewell
   Clow. Yes forsooth: I wish you ioy o'th' worm.
  Cleo. Giue me my Robe, put on my Crowne, I haue
Immortall longings in me. Now no more
The iuyce of Egypts Grape shall moyst this lip.
Yare, yare, good Iras; quicke: Me thinkes I heare
Anthony call: I see him rowse himselfe
To praise my Noble Act. I heare him mock
The lucke of Caesar, which the Gods giue men
To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come:
Now to that name, my Courage proue my Title.
I am Fire, and Ayre; my other Elements
I giue to baser life. So, haue you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my Lippes.
Farewell kinde Charmian, Iras, long farewell.
Haue I the Aspicke in my lippes? Dost fall?
If thou, and Nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a Louers pinch,
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lye still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world,
It is not worth leaue-taking
   Char. Dissolue thicke clowd, & Raine, that I may say
The Gods themselues do weepe
   Cleo. This proues me base:
If she first meete the Curled Anthony,
Hee'l make demand of her, and spend that kisse
Which is my heauen to haue. Come thou mortal wretch,
With thy sharpe teeth this knot intrinsicate,
Of life at once vntye: Poore venomous Foole,
Be angry, and dispatch. Oh could'st thou speake,
That I might heare thee call great Caesar Asse, vnpolicied
   Char. Oh Easterne Starre
   Cleo. Peace, peace:
Dost thou not see my Baby at my breast,
That suckes the Nurse asleepe
   Char. O breake! O breake!
  Cleo. As sweet as Balme, as soft as Ayre, as gentle.
O Anthony! Nay I will take thee too.
What should I stay-
  Char. In this wilde World? So fare thee well:
Now boast thee Death, in thy possession lyes
A Lasse vnparalell'd. Downie Windowes cloze,
And golden Phoebus, neuer be beheld
Of eyes againe so Royall: your Crownes away,
Ile mend it, and then play-
Enter the Guard rustling in; and Dolabella.
  1.Guard. Where's the Queene?
  Char. Speake softly, wake her not
   1 Caesar hath sent
  Char. Too slow a Messenger.
Oh come apace, dispatch, I partly feele thee
   1 Approach hoa,
All's not well: Caesar's beguild
   2 There's Dolabella sent from Caesar: call him
   1 What worke is heere Charmian?
Is this well done?
  Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princesse
Descended of so many Royall Kings.
Ah Souldier.
Charmian dyes.
Enter Dolabella.
  Dol. How goes it heere?
  2.Guard. All dead
   Dol. Caesar, thy thoughts
Touch their effects in this: Thy selfe art comming
To see perform'd the dreaded Act which thou
So sought'st to hinder.
Enter Caesar and all his Traine, marching.
  All. A way there, a way for Caesar
   Dol. Oh sir, you are too sure an Augurer:
That you did feare, is done
   Caesar. Brauest at the last,
She leuell'd at our purposes, and being Royall
Tooke her owne way: the manner of their deaths,
I do not see them bleede
   Dol. Who was last with them?
  1.Guard. A simple Countryman, that broght hir Figs:
This was his Basket
   Caesar. Poyson'd then
   1.Guard. Oh Caesar:
This Charmian liu'd but now, she stood and spake:
I found her trimming vp the Diadem;
On her dead Mistris tremblingly she stood,
And on the sodaine dropt
   Caesar. Oh Noble weakenesse:
If they had swallow'd poyson, 'twould appeare
By externall swelling: but she lookes like sleepe,
As she would catch another Anthony
In her strong toyle of Grace
   Dol. Heere on her brest,
There is a vent of Bloud, and something blowne,
The like is on her Arme
   1.Guard. This is an Aspickes traile,
And these Figge-leaues haue slime vpon them, such
As th' Aspicke leaues vpon the Caues of Nyle
   Caesar. Most probable
That so she dyed: for her Physitian tels mee
She hath pursu'de Conclusions infinite
Of easie wayes to dye. Take vp her bed,
And beare her Women from the Monument,
She shall be buried by her Anthony.
No Graue vpon the earth shall clip in it
A payre so famous: high euents as these
Strike those that make them: and their Story is
No lesse in pitty, then his Glory which
Brought them to be lamented. Our Army shall
In solemne shew, attend this Funerall,
And then to Rome. Come Dolabella, see
High Order, in this great Solemnity.
Exeunt. omnes
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF Anthonie, and Cleopatra.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Coriolanus
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Coriolanus.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Coriolanus
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter a Company of Mutinous Citizens, with Staues, Clubs, and
  1. Citizen. Before we proceed any further, heare me speake
   All. Speake, speake
   1.Cit. You are all resolu'd rather to dy then
  All. Resolu'd, resolu'd
   1.Cit. First you know, Caius Martius is chiefe enemy
to the people
   All. We know't, we know't
   1.Cit. Let vs kill him, and wee'l haue Corne at our own
price. Is't a Verdict?
  All. No more talking on't; Let it be done, away, away
  2.Cit. One word, good Citizens
   1.Cit. We are accounted poore Citizens, the Patricians
good: what Authority surfets one, would releeue
vs. If they would yeelde vs but the superfluitie while it
were wholsome, wee might guesse they releeued vs humanely:
But they thinke we are too deere, the leannesse
that afflicts vs, the obiect of our misery, is as an inuentory
to particularize their abundance, our sufferance is a
gaine to them. Let vs reuenge this with our Pikes, ere
we become Rakes. For the Gods know, I speake this in
hunger for Bread, not in thirst for Reuenge
   2.Cit. Would you proceede especially against Caius
   All. Against him first: He's a very dog to the Commonalty
   2.Cit. Consider you what Seruices he ha's done for his
  1.Cit. Very well, and could bee content to giue him
good report for't, but that hee payes himselfe with beeing
   All. Nay, but speak not maliciously
   1.Cit. I say vnto you, what he hath done Famouslie,
he did it to that end: though soft conscienc'd men can be
content to say it was for his Countrey, he did it to please
his Mother, and to be partly proud, which he is, euen to
the altitude of his vertue
   2.Cit. What he cannot helpe in his Nature, you account
a Vice in him: You must in no way say he is couetous
   1.Cit. If I must not, I neede not be barren of Accusations
he hath faults (with surplus) to tyre in repetition.
Showts within.
What showts are these? The other side a'th City is risen:
why stay we prating heere? To th' Capitoll
   All. Come, come
   1 Cit. Soft, who comes heere?
Enter Menenius Agrippa.
  2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath alwayes
lou'd the people
   1 Cit. He's one honest enough, wold al the rest wer so
   Men. What work's my Countrimen in hand?
Where go you with Bats and Clubs? The matter
Speake I pray you
   2 Cit. Our busines is not vnknowne to th' Senat, they
haue had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, w
now wee'l shew em in deeds: they say poore Suters haue
strong breaths, they shal know we haue strong arms too
   Menen. Why Masters, my good Friends, mine honest
Neighbours, will you vndo your selues?
  2 Cit. We cannot Sir, we are vndone already
   Men. I tell you Friends, most charitable care
Haue the Patricians of you for your wants.
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the Heauen with your staues, as lift them
Against the Roman State, whose course will on
The way it takes: cracking ten thousand Curbes
Of more strong linke assunder, then can euer
Appeare in your impediment. For the Dearth,
The Gods, not the Patricians make it, and
Your knees to them (not armes) must helpe. Alacke,
You are transported by Calamity
Thether, where more attends you, and you slander
The Helmes o'th State; who care for you like Fathers,
When you curse them, as Enemies
   2 Cit. Care for vs? True indeed, they nere car'd for vs
yet. Suffer vs to famish, and their Store-houses cramm'd
with Graine: Make Edicts for Vsurie, to support Vsurers;
repeale daily any wholsome Act established against
the rich, and prouide more piercing Statutes daily, to
chaine vp and restraine the poore. If the Warres eate vs
not vppe, they will; and there's all the loue they beare
   Menen. Either you must
Confesse your selues wondrous Malicious,
Or be accus'd of Folly. I shall tell you
A pretty Tale, it may be you haue heard it,
But since it serues my purpose, I will venture
To scale't a little more
   2 Citizen. Well,
Ile heare it Sir: yet you must not thinke
To fobbe off our disgrace with a tale:
But and't please you deliuer
   Men. There was a time, when all the bodies members
Rebell'd against the Belly; thus accus'd it:
That onely like a Gulfe it did remaine
I'th midd'st a th' body, idle and vnactiue,
Still cubbording the Viand, neuer bearing
Like labour with the rest, where th' other Instruments
Did see, and heare, deuise, instruct, walke, feele,
And mutually participate, did minister
Vnto the appetite; and affection common
Of the whole body, the Belly answer'd
   2.Cit. Well sir, what answer made the Belly
   Men. Sir, I shall tell you with a kinde of Smile,
Which ne're came from the Lungs, but euen thus:
For looke you I may make the belly Smile,
As well as speake, it taintingly replyed
To'th' discontented Members, the mutinous parts
That enuied his receite: euen so most fitly,
As you maligne our Senators, for that
They are not such as you
   2.Cit. Your Bellies answer: What
The Kingly crown'd head, the vigilant eye,
The Counsailor Heart, the Arme our Souldier,
Our Steed the Legge, the Tongue our Trumpeter,
With other Muniments and petty helpes
In this our Fabricke, if that they-
  Men. What then? Fore me, this Fellow speakes.
What then? What then?
  2.Cit. Should by the Cormorant belly be restrain'd,
Who is the sinke a th' body
   Men. Well, what then?
  2.Cit. The former Agents, if they did complaine,
What could the Belly answer?
  Men. I will tell you,
If you'l bestow a small (of what you haue little)
Patience awhile; you'st heare the Bellies answer
   2.Cit. Y'are long about it
   Men. Note me this good Friend;
Your most graue Belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his Accusers, and thus answered.
True is it my Incorporate Friends (quoth he)
That I receiue the generall Food at first
Which you do liue vpon: and fit it is,
Because I am the Store-house, and the Shop
Of the whole Body. But, if you do remember,
I send it through the Riuers of your blood
Euen to the Court, the Heart, to th' seate o'th' Braine,
And through the Crankes and Offices of man,
The strongest Nerues, and small inferiour Veines
From me receiue that naturall competencie
Whereby they liue. And though that all at once
(You my good Friends, this sayes the Belly) marke me
   2.Cit. I sir, well, well
   Men. Though all at once, cannot
See what I do deliuer out to each,
Yet I can make my Awdit vp, that all
From me do backe receiue the Flowre of all,
And leaue me but the Bran. What say you too't?
  2.Cit. It was an answer, how apply you this?
  Men. The Senators of Rome, are this good Belly,
And you the mutinous Members: For examine
Their Counsailes, and their Cares; disgest things rightly,
Touching the Weale a'th Common, you shall finde
No publique benefit which you receiue
But it proceeds, or comes from them to you,
And no way from your selues. What do you thinke?
You, the great Toe of this Assembly?
  2.Cit. I the great Toe? Why the great Toe?
  Men. For that being one o'th lowest, basest, poorest
Of this most wise Rebellion, thou goest formost:
Thou Rascall, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead'st first to win some vantage.
But make you ready your stiffe bats and clubs,
Rome, and her Rats, are at the point of battell,
The one side must haue baile.
Enter Caius Martius.
Hayle, Noble Martius
   Mar. Thanks. What's the matter you dissentious rogues
That rubbing the poore Itch of your Opinion,
Make your selues Scabs
   2.Cit. We haue euer your good word
   Mar. He that will giue good words to thee, wil flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you haue, you Curres,
That like nor Peace, nor Warre? The one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should finde you Lyons, findes you Hares:
Where Foxes, Geese you are: No surer, no,
Then is the coale of fire vpon the Ice,
Or Hailstone in the Sun. Your Vertue is,
To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him,
And curse that Iustice did it. Who deserues Greatnes,
Deserues your Hate: and your Affections are
A sickmans Appetite; who desires most that
Which would encrease his euill. He that depends
Vpon your fauours, swimmes with finnes of Leade,
And hewes downe Oakes, with rushes. Hang ye: trust ye?
With euery Minute you do change a Minde,
And call him Noble, that was now your Hate:
Him vilde, that was your Garland. What's the matter,
That in these seuerall places of the Citie,
You cry against the Noble Senate, who
(Vnder the Gods) keepe you in awe, which else
Would feede on one another? What's their seeking?
  Men. For Corne at their owne rates, wherof they say
The Citie is well stor'd
   Mar. Hang 'em: They say?
They'l sit by th' fire, and presume to know
What's done i'th Capitoll: Who's like to rise,
Who thriues, & who declines: Side factions, & giue out
Coniecturall Marriages, making parties strong,
And feebling such as stand not in their liking,
Below their cobled Shooes. They say ther's grain enough?
Would the Nobility lay aside their ruth,
And let me vse my Sword, I'de make a Quarrie
With thousands of these quarter'd slaues, as high
As I could picke my Lance
   Menen. Nay these are almost thoroughly perswaded:
For though abundantly they lacke discretion
Yet are they passing Cowardly. But I beseech you,
What sayes the other Troope?
  Mar. They are dissolu'd: Hang em;
They said they were an hungry, sigh'd forth Prouerbes
That Hunger-broke stone wals: that dogges must eate
That meate was made for mouths. That the gods sent not
Corne for the Richmen onely: With these shreds
They vented their Complainings, which being answer'd
And a petition granted them, a strange one,
To breake the heart of generosity,
And make bold power looke pale, they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the hornes a'th Moone,
Shooting their Emulation
   Menen. What is graunted them?
  Mar. Fiue Tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms
Of their owne choice. One's Iunius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. Sdeath,
The rabble should haue first vnroo'st the City
Ere so preuayl'd with me; it will in time
Win vpon power, and throw forth greater Theames
For Insurrections arguing
   Menen. This is strange
   Mar. Go get you home you Fragments.
Enter a Messenger hastily.
  Mess. Where's Caius Martius?
  Mar. Heere: what's the matter!
  Mes. The newes is sir, the Volcies are in Armes
   Mar. I am glad on't, then we shall ha meanes to vent
Our mustie superfluity. See our best Elders.
Enter Sicinius Velutus, Annius Brutus Cominius, Titus Lartius,
  1.Sen. Martius 'tis true, that you haue lately told vs,
The Volces are in Armes
   Mar. They haue a Leader,
Tullus Auffidius that will put you too't:
I sinne in enuying his Nobility:
And were I any thing but what I am,
I would wish me onely he
   Com. You haue fought together?
  Mar. Were halfe to halfe the world by th' eares, & he
vpon my partie, I'de reuolt to make
Onely my warres with him. He is a Lion
That I am proud to hunt
   1.Sen. Then worthy Martius,
Attend vpon Cominius to these Warres
   Com. It is your former promise
   Mar. Sir it is,
And I am constant: Titus Lucius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus face.
What art thou stiffe? Stand'st out?
  Tit. No Caius Martius,
Ile leane vpon one Crutch, and fight with tother,
Ere stay behinde this Businesse
   Men. Oh true-bred
   Sen. Your Company to'th' Capitoll, where I know
Our greatest Friends attend vs
   Tit. Lead you on: Follow Cominius, we must followe
you, right worthy your Priority
   Com. Noble Martius
   Sen. Hence to your homes, be gone
   Mar. Nay let them follow,
The Volces haue much Corne: take these Rats thither,
To gnaw their Garners. Worshipfull Mutiners,
Your valour puts well forth: Pray follow.
Citizens steale away. Manet Sicin. & Brutus.
  Sicin. Was euer man so proud as is this Martius?
  Bru. He has no equall
   Sicin. When we were chosen Tribunes for the people
   Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes
   Sicin. Nay, but his taunts
   Bru. Being mou'd, he will not spare to gird the Gods
   Sicin. Bemocke the modest Moone
   Bru. The present Warres deuoure him, he is growne
Too proud to be so valiant
   Sicin. Such a Nature, tickled with good successe, disdaines
the shadow which he treads on at noone, but I do
wonder, his insolence can brooke to be commanded vnder
  Bru. Fame, at the which he aymes,
In whom already he's well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd then by
A place below the first: for what miscarries
Shall be the Generals fault, though he performe
To th' vtmost of a man, and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Martius: Oh, if he
Had borne the businesse
   Sicin. Besides, if things go well,
Opinion that so stickes on Martius, shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius
   Bru. Come: halfe all Cominius Honors are to Martius
Though Martius earn'd them not: and all his faults
To Martius shall be Honors, though indeed
In ought he merit not
   Sicin. Let's hence, and heare
How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion
More then his singularity, he goes
Vpon this present Action
   Bru. Let's along.
Enter Tullus Auffidius with Senators of Coriolus.
  1.Sen. So, your opinion is Auffidius,
That they of Rome are entred in our Counsailes,
And know how we proceede,
  Auf. Is it not yours?
What euer haue bin thought one in this State
That could be brought to bodily act, ere Rome
Had circumuention: 'tis not foure dayes gone
Since I heard thence, these are the words, I thinke
I haue the Letter heere: yes, heere it is;
They haue prest a Power, but it is not knowne
Whether for East or West: the Dearth is great,
The people Mutinous: And it is rumour'd,
Cominius, Martius your old Enemy
(Who is of Rome worse hated then of you)
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
These three leade on this Preparation
Whether 'tis bent: most likely, 'tis for you:
Consider of it
   1.Sen. Our Armie's in the Field:
We neuer yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer vs
   Auf. Nor did you thinke it folly,
To keepe your great pretences vayl'd, till when
They needs must shew themselues, which in the hatching
It seem'd appear'd to Rome. By the discouery,
We shalbe shortned in our ayme, which was
To take in many Townes, ere (almost) Rome
Should know we were a-foot
   2.Sen. Noble Auffidius,
Take your Commission, hye you to your Bands,
Let vs alone to guard Corioles
If they set downe before's: for the remoue
Bring vp your Army: but (I thinke) you'l finde
Th'haue not prepar'd for vs
   Auf. O doubt not that,
I speake from Certainties. Nay more,
Some parcels of their Power are forth already,
And onely hitherward. I leaue your Honors.
If we, and Caius Martius chance to meete,
'Tis sworne betweene vs, we shall euer strike
Till one can do no more
   All. The Gods assist you
   Auf. And keepe your Honors safe
   1.Sen. Farewell
   2.Sen. Farewell
   All. Farewell.
Exeunt. omnes.
Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius: They set
downe on two lowe stooles and sowe.
  Volum. I pray you daughter sing, or expresse your selfe
in a more comfortable sort: If my Sonne were my Husband,
I should freelier reioyce in that absence wherein
he wonne Honor, then in the embracements of his Bed,
where he would shew most loue. When yet hee was but
tender-bodied, and the onely Sonne of my womb; when
youth with comelinesse pluck'd all gaze his way; when
for a day of Kings entreaties, a Mother should not sel him
an houre from her beholding; I considering how Honour
would become such a person, that it was no better then
Picture-like to hang by th' wall, if renowne made it not
stirre, was pleas'd to let him seeke danger, where he was
like to finde fame: To a cruell Warre I sent him, from
whence he return'd, his browes bound with Oake. I tell
thee Daughter, I sprang not more in ioy at first hearing
he was a Man-child, then now in first seeing he had proued
himselfe a man
   Virg. But had he died in the Businesse Madame, how
  Volum. Then his good report should haue beene my
Sonne, I therein would haue found issue. Heare me professe
sincerely, had I a dozen sons each in my loue alike,
and none lesse deere then thine, and my good Martius, I
had rather had eleuen dye Nobly for their Countrey, then
one voluptuously surfet out of Action.
Enter a Gentlewoman.
  Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you
   Virg. Beseech you giue me leaue to retire my selfe
   Volum. Indeed you shall not:
Me thinkes, I heare hither your Husbands Drumme:
See him plucke Auffidius downe by th' haire:
(As children from a Beare) the Volces shunning him:
Me thinkes I see him stampe thus, and call thus,
Come on you Cowards, you were got in feare
Though you were borne in Rome; his bloody brow
With his mail'd hand, then wiping, forth he goes
Like to a Haruest man, that task'd to mowe
Or all, or loose his hyre
   Virg. His bloody Brow? Oh Iupiter, no blood
   Volum. Away you Foole; it more becomes a man
Then gilt his Trophe. The brests of Hecuba
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not louelier
Then Hectors forhead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian sword. Contenning, tell Valeria
We are fit to bid her welcome.
  Vir. Heauens blesse my Lord from fell Auffidius
   Vol. Hee'l beat Auffidius head below his knee,
And treade vpon his necke.
Enter Valeria with an Vsher, and a Gentlewoman.
  Val. My Ladies both good day to you
   Vol. Sweet Madam
   Vir. I am glad to see your Ladyship
   Val. How do you both? You are manifest house-keepers.
What are you sowing heere? A fine spotte in good
faith. How does your little Sonne?
  Vir. I thanke your Lady-ship: Well good Madam
   Vol. He had rather see the swords, and heare a Drum,
then looke vpon his Schoolmaster
   Val. A my word the Fathers Sonne: Ile sweare 'tis a
very pretty boy. A my troth, I look'd vpon him a Wensday
halfe an houre together: ha's such a confirm'd countenance.
I saw him run after a gilded Butterfly, & when
he caught it, he let it go againe, and after it againe, and ouer
and ouer he comes, and vp againe: catcht it again: or
whether his fall enrag'd him, or how 'twas, hee did so set
his teeth, and teare it. Oh, I warrant how he mammockt
   Vol. One on's Fathers moods
   Val. Indeed la, tis a Noble childe
   Virg. A Cracke Madam
   Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery, I must haue you
play the idle Huswife with me this afternoone
   Virg. No (good Madam)
I will not out of doores
   Val. Not out of doores?
  Volum. She shall, she shall
   Virg. Indeed no, by your patience; Ile not ouer the
threshold, till my Lord returne from the Warres
   Val. Fye, you confine your selfe most vnreasonably:
Come, you must go visit the good Lady that lies in
   Virg. I will wish her speedy strength, and visite her
with my prayers: but I cannot go thither
   Volum. Why I pray you
   Vlug. 'Tis not to saue labour, nor that I want loue
   Val. You would be another Penelope: yet they say, all
the yearne she spun in Vlisses absence, did but fill Athica
full of Mothes. Come, I would your Cambrick were sensible
as your finger, that you might leaue pricking it for
pitie. Come you shall go with vs
   Vir. No good Madam, pardon me, indeed I will not
   Val. In truth la go with me, and Ile tell you excellent
newes of your Husband
   Virg. Oh good Madam, there can be none yet
   Val. Verily I do not iest with you: there came newes
from him last night
   Vir. Indeed Madam
   Val. In earnest it's true; I heard a Senatour speake it.
Thus it is: the Volcies haue an Army forth, against who[m]
Cominius the Generall is gone, with one part of our Romane
power. Your Lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down
before their Citie Carioles, they nothing doubt preuailing,
and to make it breefe Warres. This is true on mine
Honor, and so I pray go with vs
   Virg. Giue me excuse good Madame, I will obey you
in euery thing heereafter
   Vol. Let her alone Ladie, as she is now:
She will but disease our better mirth
   Valeria. In troth I thinke she would:
Fare you well then. Come good sweet Ladie.
Prythee Virgilia turne thy solemnesse out a doore,
And go along with vs
   Virgil. No
At a word Madam; Indeed I must not,
I wish you much mirth
   Val. Well, then farewell.
Exeunt. Ladies.
Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Drumme and Colours, with
Captaines and
Souldiers, as before the City Corialus: to them a Messenger.
  Martius. Yonder comes Newes:
A Wager they haue met
   Lar. My horse to yours, no
   Mar. Tis done
   Lart. Agreed
   Mar. Say, ha's our Generall met the Enemy?
  Mess. They lye in view, but haue not spoke as yet
   Lart. So, the good Horse is mine
   Mart. Ile buy him of you
   Lart. No, Ile nor sel, nor giue him: Lend you him I will
For halfe a hundred yeares: Summon the Towne
   Mar. How farre off lie these Armies?
  Mess. Within this mile and halfe
   Mar. Then shall we heare their Larum, & they Ours.
Now Mars, I prythee make vs quicke in worke,
That we with smoaking swords may march from hence
To helpe our fielded Friends. Come, blow thy blast.
They Sound a Parley: Enter two Senators with others on the Walles
Tullus Auffidious, is he within your Walles?
  1.Senat. No, nor a man that feares you lesse then he,
That's lesser then a little:
Drum a farre off.
Hearke, our Drummes
Are bringing forth our youth: Wee'l breake our Walles
Rather then they shall pound vs vp our Gates,
Which yet seeme shut, we haue but pin'd with Rushes,
They'le open of themselues. Harke you, farre off
Alarum farre off.
There is Auffidious. List what worke he makes
Among'st your clouen Army
   Mart. Oh they are at it
   Lart. Their noise be our instruction. Ladders hoa.
Enter the Army of the Volces.
  Mar. They feare vs not, but issue forth their Citie.
Now put your Shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proofe then Shields.
Aduance braue Titus,
They do disdaine vs much beyond our Thoughts,
which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on my fellows
He that retires, Ile take him for a Volce,
And he shall feele mine edge.
Alarum, the Romans are beat back to their Trenches Enter Martius
  Mar. All the contagion of the South, light on you,
You Shames of Rome: you Heard of Byles and Plagues
Plaister you o're, that you may be abhorr'd
Farther then seene, and one infect another
Against the Winde a mile: you soules of Geese,
That beare the shapes of men, how haue you run
From Slaues, that Apes would beate; Pluto and Hell,
All hurt behinde, backes red, and faces pale
With flight and agued feare, mend and charge home,
Or by the fires of heauen, Ile leaue the Foe,
And make my Warres on you: Looke too't: Come on,
If you'l stand fast, wee'l beate them to their Wiues,
As they vs to our Trenches followes.
Another Alarum, and Martius followes them to gates, and is shut
So, now the gates are ope: now proue good Seconds,
'Tis for the followers Fortune, widens them,
Not for the flyers: Marke me, and do the like.
Enter the Gati.
  1.Sol. Foole-hardinesse, not I
   2.Sol. Nor I
   1.Sol. See they haue shut him in.
Alarum continues
  All. To th' pot I warrant him.
Enter Titus Lartius
  Tit. What is become of Martius?
  All. Slaine (Sir) doubtlesse
   1.Sol. Following the Flyers at the very heeles,
With them he enters: who vpon the sodaine
Clapt to their Gates, he is himselfe alone,
To answer all the City
   Lar. Oh Noble Fellow!
Who sensibly out-dares his sencelesse Sword,
And when it bowes, stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius,
A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art
Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier
Euen to Calues wish, not fierce and terrible
Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and
The Thunder-like percussion of thy sounds
Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World
Were Feauorous, and did tremble.
Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.
  1.Sol. Looke Sir
   Lar. O 'tis Martius.
Let's fetch him off, or make remaine alike.
They fight, and all enter the City.
Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles.
  1.Rom. This will I carry to Rome
   2.Rom. And I this
   3.Rom. A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.
Alarum continues still a-farre off.
Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.
  Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours
At a crack'd Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones,
Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues,
Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them.
And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him
There is the man of my soules hate, Auffidious,
Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take
Conuenient Numbers to make good the City,
Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste
To helpe Cominius
   Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st,
Thy exercise hath bin too violent,
For a second course of Fight
   Mar. Sir, praise me not:
My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well:
The blood I drop, is rather Physicall
Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear and fight
   Lar. Now the faire Goddesse Fortune,
Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes
Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman:
Prosperity be thy Page
   Mar. Thy Friend no lesse,
Then those she placeth highest: So farewell
   Lar. Thou worthiest Martius,
Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place,
Call thither all the Officers a'th' Towne,
Where they shall know our minde. Away.
Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldiers.
  Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come off,
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me Sirs,
We shall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue strooke
By Interims and conueying gusts, we haue heard
The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods,
Leade their successes, as we wish our owne,
That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountring,
May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes?
Enter a Messenger.
  Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued,
And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile:
I saw our party to their Trenches driuen,
And then I came away
   Com. Though thou speakest truth,
Me thinkes thou speak'st not well. How long is't since?
  Mes. Aboue an houre, my Lord
   Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefely we heard their drummes.
How could'st thou in a mile confound an houre,
And bring thy Newes so late?
  Mes. Spies of the Volces
Held me in chace, that I was forc'd to wheele
Three or foure miles about, else had I sir
Halfe an houre since brought my report.
Enter Martius.
  Com. Whose yonder,
That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O Gods,
He has the stampe of Martius, and I haue
Before time seene him thus
   Mar. Come I too late?
  Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fro[m] a Taber,
More then I know the sound of Martius Tongue
From euery meaner man
   Martius. Come I too late?
  Com. I, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your owne
   Mart. Oh! let me clip ye
In Armes as sound, as when I woo'd in heart;
As merry, as when our Nuptiall day was done,
And Tapers burnt to Bedward
   Com. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius?
  Mar. As with a man busied about Decrees:
Condemning some to death, and some to exile,
Ransoming him, or pittying, threatning th' other;
Holding Corioles in the name of Rome,
Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leash,
To let him slip at will
   Com. Where is that Slaue
Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches?
Where is he? Call him hither
   Mar. Let him alone,
He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen,
The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them)
The Mouse ne're shunn'd the Cat, as they did budge
From Rascals worse then they
   Com. But how preuail'd you?
  Mar. Will the time serue to tell, I do not thinke:
Where is the enemy? Are you Lords a'th Field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
  Com. Martius, we haue at disaduantage fought,
And did retyre to win our purpose
   Mar. How lies their Battell? Know you on w side
They haue plac'd their men of trust?
  Com. As I guesse Martius,
Their Bands i'th Vaward are the Antients
Of their best trust: O're them Auffidious,
Their very heart of Hope
   Mar. I do beseech you,
By all the Battailes wherein we haue fought,
By th' Blood we haue shed together,
By th' Vowes we haue made
To endure Friends, that you directly set me
Against Affidious, and his Antiats,
And that you not delay the present (but
Filling the aire with Swords aduanc'd) and Darts,
We proue this very houre
   Com. Though I could wish,
You were conducted to a gentle Bath,
And Balmes applyed to you, yet dare I neuer
Deny your asking, take your choice of those
That best can ayde your action
   Mar. Those are they
That most are willing; if any such be heere,
(As it were sinne to doubt) that loue this painting
Wherein you see me smear'd, if any feare
Lessen his person, then an ill report:
If any thinke, braue death out-weighes bad life,
And that his Countries deerer then himselfe,
Let him alone: Or so many so minded,
Waue thus to expresse his disposition,
And follow Martius.
They all shout and waue their swords, take him vp in their Armes,
vp their Caps.
Oh me alone, make you a sword of me:
If these shewes be not outward, which of you
But is foure Volces? None of you, but is
Able to beare against the great Auffidious
A Shield, as hard as his. A certaine number
(Though thankes to all) must I select from all:
The rest shall beare the businesse in some other fight
(As cause will be obey'd:) please you to March,
And foure shall quickly draw out my Command,
Which men are best inclin'd
   Com. March on my Fellowes:
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Diuide in all, with vs.
Titus Lartius, hauing set a guard vpon Carioles, going with Drum
Trumpet toward Cominius, and Caius Martius, Enters with a
other Souldiours, and a Scout.
  Lar. So, let the Ports be guarded; keepe your Duties
As I haue set them downe. If I do send, dispatch
Those Centuries to our ayd, the rest will serue
For a short holding, if we loose the Field,
We cannot keepe the Towne
   Lieu. Feare not our care Sir
   Lart. Hence; and shut your gates vpon's:
Our Guider come, to th' Roman Campe conduct vs.
Alarum, as in Battaile.
Enter Martius and Auffidius at seueral doores.
  Mar. Ile fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee
Worse then a Promise-breaker
   Auffid. We hate alike:
Not Affricke ownes a Serpent I abhorre
More then thy Fame and Enuy: Fix thy foot
   Mar. Let the first Budger dye the others Slaue,
And the Gods doome him after
   Auf. If I flye Martius, hollow me like a Hare
   Mar. Within these three houres Tullus
Alone I fought in your Corioles walles,
And made what worke I pleas'd: 'Tis not my blood,
Wherein thou seest me maskt, for thy Reuenge
Wrench vp thy power to th' highest
   Auf. Wer't thou the Hector,
That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny,
Thou should'st not scape me heere.
Heere they fight, and certaine Volces come in the ayde of Auffi.
fights til they be driuen in breathles.
Officious and not valiant, you haue sham'd me
In your condemned Seconds.
Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at one Doore
Cominius, with
the Romanes: At another Doore Martius, with his Arme in a
  Com. If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke,
Thou't not beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it,
Where Senators shall mingle teares with smiles,
Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug,
I'th' end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted,
And gladly quak'd, heare more: where the dull Tribunes,
That with the fustie Plebeans, hate thine Honors,
Shall say against their hearts, We thanke the Gods
Our Rome hath such a Souldier.
Yet cam'st thou to a Morsell of this Feast,
Hauing fully din'd before.
Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit.
  Titus Lartius. Oh Generall:
Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison:
Hadst thou beheld-
  Martius. Pray now, no more:
My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud,
When she do's prayse me, grieues me:
I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can,
Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey:
He that ha's but effected his good will,
Hath ouerta'ne mine Act
   Com. You shall not be the Graue of your deseruing,
Rome must know the value of her owne:
'Twere a Concealement worse then a Theft,
No lesse then a Traducement,
To hide your doings, and to silence that,
Which to the spire, and top of prayses vouch'd,
Would seeme but modest: therefore I beseech you,
In signe of what you are, not to reward
What you haue done, before our Armie heare me
   Martius. I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they smart
To heare themselues remembred
   Com. Should they not:
Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude,
And tent themselues with death: of all the Horses,
Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good store of all,
The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie,
We render you the Tenth, to be ta'ne forth,
Before the common distribution,
At your onely choyse
   Martius. I thanke you Generall:
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it,
And stand vpon my common part with those,
That haue beheld the doing.
A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius, cast vp their Caps
Launces: Cominius and Lartius stand bare.
  Mar. May these same Instruments, which you prophane,
Neuer sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall
I'th' field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be
Made all of false-fac'd soothing:
When Steele growes soft, as the Parasites Silke,
Let him be made an Ouerture for th' Warres:
No more I say, for that I haue not wash'd
My Nose that bled, or foyl'd some debile Wretch,
Which without note, here's many else haue done,
You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall,
As if I lou'd my little should be dieted
In prayses, sawc'st with Lyes
   Com. Too modest are you:
More cruell to your good report, then gratefull
To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience,
If 'gainst your selfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you
(Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles,
Then reason safely with you: Therefore be it knowne,
As to vs, to all the World, That Caius Martius
Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which,
My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him,
With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
For what he did before Corioles, call him,
With all th' applause and Clamor of the Hoast,
Marcus Caius Coriolanus. Beare th' addition Nobly euer?
Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums.
  Omnes. Marcus Caius Coriolanus
   Martius. I will goe wash:
And when my Face is faire, you shall perceiue
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thanke you,
I meane to stride your Steed, and at all times
To vnder-crest your good Addition,
To th' fairenesse of my power
   Com. So, to our Tent:
Where ere we doe repose vs, we will write
To Rome of our successe: you Titus Lartius
Must to Corioles backe, send vs to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their owne good, and ours
   Lartius. I shall, my Lord
   Martius. The Gods begin to mocke me:
I that now refus'd most Princely gifts,
Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall
   Com. Tak't, 'tis yours: what is't?
  Martius. I sometime lay here in Corioles,
At a poore mans house: he vs'd me kindly,
He cry'd to me: I saw him Prisoner:
But then Auffidius was within my view,
And Wrath o're-whelm'd my pittie: I request you
To giue my poore Host freedome
   Com. Oh well begg'd:
Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he should
Be free, as is the Winde: deliuer him, Titus
   Lartius. Martius, his Name
   Martius. By Iupiter forgot:
I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd:
Haue we no Wine here?
  Com. Goe we to our Tent:
The bloud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time
It should be lookt too: come.
A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius bloudie, with two or
  Auffi. The Towne is ta'ne
   Sould. 'Twill be deliuer'd backe on good Condition
   Auffid. Condition?
I would I were a Roman, for I cannot,
Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition?
What good Condition can a Treatie finde
I'th' part that is at mercy? fiue times, Martius,
I haue fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me:
And would'st doe so, I thinke, should we encounter
As often as we eate. By th' Elements,
If ere againe I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his: Mine Emulation
Hath not that Honor in't it had: For where
I thought to crush him in an equall Force,
True Sword to Sword: Ile potche at him some way,
Or Wrath, or Craft may get him
   Sol. He's the diuell
   Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: my valors poison'd,
With onely suff'ring staine by him: for him
Shall flye out of it selfe, nor sleepe, nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sicke; nor Phane, nor Capitoll,
The Prayers of Priests, nor times of Sacrifice:
Embarquements all of Fury, shall lift vp
Their rotten Priuiledge, and Custome 'gainst
My hate to Martius. Where I finde him, were it
At home, vpon my Brothers Guard, euen there
Against the hospitable Canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' Citie,
Learne how 'tis held, and what they are that must
Be Hostages for Rome
   Soul. Will not you go?
  Auf. I am attended at the Cyprus groue. I pray you
('Tis South the City Mils) bring me word thither
How the world goes: that to the pace of it
I may spurre on my iourney
   Soul. I shall sir.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius &
  Men. The Agurer tels me, wee shall haue Newes to
   Bru. Good or bad?
  Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for
they loue not Martius
   Sicin. Nature teaches Beasts to know their Friends
   Men. Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue?
  Sicin. The Lambe
   Men. I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would
the Noble Martius
   Bru. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare
   Men. Hee's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe.
You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall aske
   Both. Well sir
   Men. In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you
two haue not in abundance?
  Bru. He's poore in no one fault, but stor'd withall
   Sicin. Especially in Pride
   Bru. And topping all others in boasting
   Men. This is strange now: Do you two know, how
you are censured heere in the City, I mean of vs a'th' right
hand File, do you?
  Both. Why? how are we censur'd?
  Men. Because you talke of Pride now, will you not
   Both. Well, well sir, well
   Men. Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little theefe
of Occasion, will rob you of a great deale of Patience:
Giue your dispositions the reines, and bee angry at your
pleasures (at the least) if you take it as a pleasure to you, in
being so: you blame Martius for being proud
   Brut. We do it not alone, sir
   Men. I know you can doe very little alone, for your
helpes are many, or else your actions would growe wondrous
single: your abilities are to Infant-like, for dooing
much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turn
your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make
but an Interiour suruey of your good selues. Oh that you
   Both. What then sir?
  Men. Why then you should discouer a brace of vnmeriting,
proud, violent, testie Magistrates (alias Fooles)
as any in Rome
   Sicin. Menenius, you are knowne well enough too
   Men. I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and
one that loues a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alaying
Tiber in't: Said, to be something imperfect in fauouring
the first complaint, hasty and Tinder-like vppon, to
triuiall motion: One, that conuerses more with the Buttocke
of the night, then with the forhead of the morning.
What I think, I vtter, and spend my malice in my breath.
Meeting two such Weales men as you are (I cannot call
you Licurgusses,) if the drinke you giue me, touch my Palat
aduersly, I make a crooked face at it, I can say, your
Worshippes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I finde
the Asse in compound, with the Maior part of your syllables.
And though I must be content to beare with those,
that say you are reuerend graue men, yet they lye deadly,
that tell you haue good faces, if you see this in the Map
of my Microcosme, followes it that I am knowne well enough
too? What harme can your beesome Conspectuities
gleane out of this Charracter, if I be knowne well enough
   Bru. Come sir come, we know you well enough
   Menen. You know neither mee, your selues, nor any
thing: you are ambitious, for poore knaues cappes and
legges: you weare out a good wholesome Forenoone, in
hearing a cause betweene an Orendge wife, and a Forfetseller,
and then reiourne the Controuersie of three-pence
to a second day of Audience. When you are hearing a
matter betweene party and party, if you chaunce to bee
pinch'd with the Collike, you make faces like Mummers,
set vp the bloodie Flagge against all Patience, and
in roaring for a Chamber-pot, dismisse the Controuersie
bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: All the
peace you make in their Cause, is calling both the parties
Knaues. You are a payre of strange ones
   Bru. Come, come, you are well vnderstood to bee a
perfecter gyber for the Table, then a necessary Bencher in
the Capitoll
   Men. Our very Priests must become Mockers, if they
shall encounter such ridiculous Subiects as you are, when
you speake best vnto the purpose. It is not woorth the
wagging of your Beards, and your Beards deserue not so
honourable a graue, as to stuffe a Botchers Cushion, or to
be intomb'd in an Asses Packe-saddle; yet you must bee
saying, Martius is proud: who in a cheape estimation, is
worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion, though peraduenture
some of the best of 'em were hereditarie hangmen.
Godden to your Worships, more of your conuersation
would infect my Braine, being the Heardsmen of
the Beastly Plebeans. I will be bold to take my leaue of
Bru. and Scic. Aside.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.
How now (my as faire as Noble) Ladyes, and the Moone
were shee Earthly, no Nobler; whither doe you follow
your Eyes so fast?
  Volum. Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius approches:
for the loue of Iuno let's goe
   Menen. Ha? Martius comming home?
  Volum. I, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous
   Menen. Take my Cappe Iupiter, and I thanke thee:
hoo, Martius comming home?
  2.Ladies. Nay, 'tis true
   Volum. Looke, here's a Letter from him, the State hath
another, his Wife another, and (I thinke) there's one at
home for you
   Menen. I will make my very house reele to night:
A Letter for me?
  Virgil. Yes certaine, there's a Letter for you, I saw't
   Menen. A Letter for me? it giues me an Estate of seuen
yeeres health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at
the Physician: The most soueraigne Prescription in Galen,
is but Emperickqutique; and to this Preseruatiue, of no
better report then a Horse-drench. Is he not wounded?
he was wont to come home wounded?
  Virgil. Oh no, no, no
   Volum. Oh, he is wounded, I thanke the Gods for't
   Menen. So doe I too, if it be not too much: brings a
Victorie in his Pocket? the wounds become him
   Volum. On's Browes: Menenius, hee comes the third
time home with the Oaken Garland
   Menen. Ha's he disciplin'd Auffidius soundly?
  Volum. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
Auffidius got off
   Menen. And 'twas time for him too, Ile warrant him
that: and he had stay'd by him, I would not haue been so
fiddious'd, for all the Chests in Carioles, and the Gold
that's in them. Is the Senate possest of this?
  Volum. Good Ladies let's goe. Yes, yes, yes: The
Senate ha's Letters from the Generall, wherein hee giues
my Sonne the whole Name of the Warre: he hath in this
action out-done his former deeds doubly
   Valer. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him
   Menen. Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not without
his true purchasing
   Virgil. The Gods graunt them true
   Volum. True? pow waw
   Mene. True? Ile be sworne they are true: where is
hee wounded, God saue your good Worships? Martius
is comming home: hee ha's more cause to be prowd:
where is he wounded?
  Volum. Ith' Shoulder, and ith' left Arme: there will be
large Cicatrices to shew the People, when hee shall stand
for his place: he receiued in the repulse of Tarquin seuen
hurts ith' Body
   Mene. One ith' Neck, and two ith' Thigh, there's nine
   Volum. Hee had, before this last Expedition, twentie
fiue Wounds vpon him
   Mene. Now it's twentie seuen; euery gash was an
Enemies Graue. Hearke, the Trumpets.
A showt, and flourish.
  Volum. These are the Vshers of Martius:
Before him, hee carryes Noyse;
And behinde him, hee leaues Teares:
Death, that darke Spirit, in's neruie Arme doth lye,
Which being aduanc'd, declines, and then men dye.
A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus
betweene them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Oaken Garland, with
Captaines and
Souldiers, and a Herauld.
  Herauld. Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
Within Corioles Gates: where he hath wonne,
With Fame, a Name to Martius Caius:
These in honor followes Martius Caius Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.
Sound. Flourish.
  All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus
   Coriol. No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray
   Com. Looke, Sir, your Mother
   Coriol. Oh! you haue, I know, petition'd all the Gods
for my prosperitie.
  Volum. Nay, my good Souldier, vp:
My gentle Martius, worthy Caius,
And by deed-atchieuing Honor newly nam'd,
What is it (Coriolanus) must I call thee?
But oh, thy Wife
   Corio. My gracious silence, hayle:
Would'st thou haue laugh'd, had I come Coffin'd home,
That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah my deare,
Such eyes the Widowes in Carioles were,
And Mothers that lacke Sonnes
   Mene. Now the Gods Crowne thee
   Com. And liue you yet? Oh my sweet Lady, pardon
   Volum. I know not where to turne.
Oh welcome home: and welcome Generall,
And y'are welcome all
   Mene. A hundred thousand Welcomes:
I could weepe, and I could laugh,
I am light, and heauie; welcome:
A Curse begin at very root on's heart,
That is not glad to see thee.
You are three, that Rome should dote on:
Yet by the faith of men, we haue
Some old Crab-trees here at home,
That will not be grafted to your Rallish.
Yet welcome Warriors:
Wee call a Nettle, but a Nettle;
And the faults of fooles, but folly
   Com. Euer right
   Cor. Menenius, euer, euer
   Herauld. Giue way there, and goe on
   Cor. Your Hand, and yours?
Ere in our owne house I doe shade my Head,
The good Patricians must be visited,
From whom I haue receiu'd not onely greetings,
But with them, change of Honors
   Volum. I haue liued,
To see inherited my very Wishes,
And the Buildings of my Fancie:
Onely there's one thing wanting,
Which (I doubt not) but our Rome
Will cast vpon thee
   Cor. Know, good Mother,
I had rather be their seruant in my way,
Then sway with them in theirs
   Com. On, to the Capitall.
Flourish. Cornets.
Exeunt. in State, as before.
Enter Brutus and Scicinius
  Bru. All tongues speake of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling Nurse
Into a rapture lets her Baby crie,
While she chats him: the Kitchin Malkin pinnes
Her richest Lockram 'bout her reechie necke,
Clambring the Walls to eye him:
Stalls, Bulkes, Windowes, are smother'd vp,
Leades fill'd, and Ridges hors'd
With variable Complexions; all agreeing
In earnestnesse to see him: seld-showne Flamins
Doe presse among the popular Throngs, and puffe
To winne a vulgar station: our veyl'd Dames
Commit the Warre of White and Damaske
In their nicely gawded Cheekes, toth' wanton spoyle
Of Phoebus burning Kisses: such a poother,
As if that whatsoeuer God, who leades him,
Were slyly crept into his humane powers,
And gaue him gracefull posture
   Scicin. On the suddaine, I warrant him Consull
   Brutus. Then our Office may, during his power, goe
   Scicin. He cannot temp'rately transport his Honors,
From where he should begin, and end, but will
Lose those he hath wonne
   Brutus. In that there's comfort
   Scici. Doubt not,
The Commoners, for whom we stand, but they
Vpon their ancient mallice, will forget
With the least cause, these his new Honors,
Which that he will giue them, make I as little question,
As he is prowd to doo't
   Brutus. I heard him sweare,
Were he to stand for Consull, neuer would he
Appeare i'th' Market place, nor on him put
The Naples Vesture of Humilitie,
Nor shewing (as the manner is) his Wounds
Toth' People, begge their stinking Breaths
   Scicin. 'Tis right
   Brutus. It was his word:
Oh he would misse it, rather then carry it,
But by the suite of the Gentry to him,
And the desire of the Nobles
   Scicin. I wish no better, then haue him hold that purpose,
and to put it in execution
   Brutus. 'Tis most like he will
   Scicin. It shall be to him then, as our good wills; a
sure destruction
   Brutus. So it must fall out
To him, or our Authorities, for an end.
We must suggest the People, in what hatred
He still hath held them: that to's power he would
Haue made them Mules, silenc'd their Pleaders,
And dispropertied their Freedomes; holding them,
In humane Action, and Capacitie,
Of no more Soule, nor fitnesse for the World,
Then Cammels in their Warre, who haue their Prouand
Onely for bearing Burthens, and sore blowes
For sinking vnder them
   Scicin. This (as you say) suggested,
At some time, when his soaring Insolence
Shall teach the People, which time shall not want,
If he be put vpon't, and that's as easie,
As to set Dogges on Sheepe, will be his fire
To kindle their dry Stubble: and their Blaze
Shall darken him for euer.
Enter a Messenger.
  Brutus. What's the matter?
  Mess. You are sent for to the Capitoll:
'Tis thought, that Martius shall be Consull:
I haue seene the dumbe men throng to see him,
And the blind to heare him speak: Matrons flong Gloues,
Ladies and Maids their Scarffes, and Handkerchers,
Vpon him as he pass'd: the Nobles bended
As to Ioues Statue, and the Commons made
A Shower, and Thunder, with their Caps, and Showts:
I neuer saw the like
   Brutus. Let's to the Capitoll,
And carry with vs Eares and Eyes for th' time,
But Hearts for the euent
   Scicin. Haue with you.
Enter two Officers, to lay Cushions, as it were, in the Capitoll.
  1.Off. Come, come, they are almost here: how many
stand for Consulships?
  2.Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of euery one,
Coriolanus will carry it
   1.Off. That's a braue fellow: but hee's vengeance
prowd, and loues not the common people
   2.Off. 'Faith, there hath beene many great men that
haue flatter'd the people, who ne're loued them; and there
be many that they haue loued, they know not wherefore:
so that if they loue they know not why, they hate vpon
no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neyther to
care whether they loue, or hate him, manifests the true
knowledge he ha's in their disposition, and out of his Noble
carelesnesse lets them plainely see't
   1.Off. If he did not care whether he had their loue, or
no, hee waued indifferently, 'twixt doing them neyther
good, nor harme: but hee seekes their hate with greater
deuotion, then they can render it him; and leaues nothing
vndone, that may fully discouer him their opposite. Now
to seeme to affect the mallice and displeasure of the People,
is as bad, as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for
   2.Off. Hee hath deserued worthily of his Countrey,
and his assent is not by such easie degrees as those, who
hauing beene supple and courteous to the People, Bonnetted,
without any further deed, to haue them at all into
their estimation, and report: but hee hath so planted his
Honors in their Eyes, and his actions in their Hearts, that
for their Tongues to be silent, and not confesse so much,
were a kinde of ingratefull Iniurie: to report otherwise,
were a Mallice, that giuing it selfe the Lye, would plucke
reproofe and rebuke from euery Eare that heard it
   1.Off. No more of him, hee's a worthy man: make
way, they are comming.
A Sennet. Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of the People,
before them: Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the Consul:
Scicinius and
Brutus take their places by themselues: Coriolanus stands.
  Menen. Hauing determin'd of the Volces,
And to send for Titus Lartius: it remaines,
As the maine Point of this our after-meeting,
To gratifie his Noble seruice, that hath
Thus stood for his Countrey. Therefore please you,
Most reuerend and graue Elders, to desire
The present Consull, and last Generall,
In our well-found Successes, to report
A little of that worthy Worke, perform'd
By Martius Caius Coriolanus: whom
We met here, both to thanke, and to remember,
With Honors like himselfe
   1.Sen. Speake, good Cominius:
Leaue nothing out for length, and make vs thinke
Rather our states defectiue for requitall,
Then we to stretch it out. Masters a'th' People,
We doe request your kindest eares: and after
Your louing motion toward the common Body,
To yeeld what passes here
   Scicin. We are conuented vpon a pleasing Treatie, and
haue hearts inclinable to honor and aduance the Theame
of our Assembly
   Brutus. Which the rather wee shall be blest to doe, if
he remember a kinder value of the People, then he hath
hereto priz'd them at
   Menen. That's off, that's off: I would you rather had
been silent: Please you to heare Cominius speake?
  Brutus. Most willingly: but yet my Caution was
more pertinent then the rebuke you giue it
   Menen. He loues your People, but tye him not to be
their Bed-fellow: Worthie Cominius speake.
Coriolanus rises, and offers to goe away.
Nay, keepe your place
   Senat. Sit Coriolanus: neuer shame to heare
What you haue Nobly done
   Coriol. Your Honors pardon:
I had rather haue my Wounds to heale againe,
Then heare say how I got them
   Brutus. Sir, I hope my words dis-bench'd you not?
  Coriol. No Sir: yet oft,
When blowes haue made me stay, I fled from words.
You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not: but your People,
I loue them as they weigh-
  Menen. Pray now sit downe
   Corio. I had rather haue one scratch my Head i'th' Sun,
When the Alarum were strucke, then idly sit
To heare my Nothings monster'd.
Exit Coriolanus
  Menen. Masters of the People,
Your multiplying Spawne, how can he flatter?
That's thousand to one good one, when you now see
He had rather venture all his Limbes for Honor,
Then on ones Eares to heare it. Proceed Cominius
   Com. I shall lacke voyce: the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be vtter'd feebly: it is held,
That Valour is the chiefest Vertue,
And most dignifies the hauer: if it be,
The man I speake of, cannot in the World
Be singly counter-poys'd. At sixteene yeeres,
When Tarquin made a Head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the marke of others: our then Dictator,
Whom with all prayse I point at, saw him fight,
When with his Amazonian Shinne he droue
The brizled Lippes before him: he bestrid
An o're-prest Roman, and i'th' Consuls view
Slew three Opposers: Tarquins selfe he met,
And strucke him on his Knee: in that dayes feates,
When he might act the Woman in the Scene,
He prou'd best man i'th' field, and for his meed
Was Brow-bound with the Oake. His Pupill age
Man-entred thus, he waxed like a Sea,
And in the brunt of seuenteene Battailes since,
He lurcht all Swords of the Garland: for this last,
Before, and in Corioles, let me say
I cannot speake him home: he stopt the flyers,
And by his rare example made the Coward
Turne terror into sport: as Weeds before
A Vessell vnder sayle, so men obey'd,
And fell below his Stem: his Sword, Deaths stampe,
Where it did marke, it tooke from face to foot:
He was a thing of Blood, whose euery motion
Was tim'd with dying Cryes: alone he entred
The mortall Gate of th' Citie, which he painted
With shunlesse destinie: aydelesse came off,
And with a sudden re-inforcement strucke
Carioles like a Planet: now all's his,
When by and by the dinne of Warre gan pierce
His readie sence: then straight his doubled spirit
Requickned what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the Battaile came he, where he did
Runne reeking o're the liues of men, as if 'twere
A perpetuall spoyle: and till we call'd
Both Field and Citie ours, he neuer stood
To ease his Brest with panting
   Menen. Worthy man
   Senat. He cannot but with measure fit the Honors
which we deuise him
   Com. Our spoyles he kickt at,
And look'd vpon things precious, as they were
The common Muck of the World: he couets lesse
Then Miserie it selfe would giue, rewards his deeds
With doing them, and is content
To spend the time, to end it
   Menen. Hee's right Noble, let him be call'd for
   Senat. Call Coriolanus
   Off. He doth appeare.
Enter Coriolanus.
  Menen. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd to make
thee Consull
   Corio. I doe owe them still my Life, and Seruices
   Menen. It then remaines, that you doe speake to the
   Corio. I doe beseech you,
Let me o're-leape that custome: for I cannot
Put on the Gowne, stand naked, and entreat them
For my Wounds sake, to giue their sufferage:
Please you that I may passe this doing
   Scicin. Sir, the People must haue their Voyces,
Neyther will they bate one iot of Ceremonie
   Menen. Put them not too't:
Pray you goe fit you to the Custome,
And take to you, as your Predecessors haue,
Your Honor with your forme
   Corio. It is a part that I shall blush in acting,
And might well be taken from the People
   Brutus. Marke you that
   Corio. To brag vnto them, thus I did, and thus
Shew them th' vnaking Skarres, which I should hide,
As if I had receiu'd them for the hyre
Of their breath onely
   Menen. Doe not stand vpon't:
We recommend to you Tribunes of the People
Our purpose to them, and to our Noble Consull
Wish we all Ioy, and Honor
   Senat. To Coriolanus come all ioy and Honor.
Flourish Cornets. Then Exeunt. Manet Sicinius and Brutus.
  Bru. You see how he intends to vse the people
   Scicin. May they perceiue's intent: he wil require them
As if he did contemne what he requested,
Should be in them to giue
   Bru. Come, wee'l informe them
Of our proceedings heere on th' Market place,
I know they do attend vs.
Enter seuen or eight Citizens.
  1.Cit. Once if he do require our voyces, wee ought
not to deny him
   2.Cit. We may Sir if we will
   3.Cit. We haue power in our selues to do it, but it is
a power that we haue no power to do: For, if hee shew vs
his wounds, and tell vs his deeds, we are to put our tongues
into those wounds, and speake for them: So if he tel
vs his Noble deeds, we must also tell him our Noble acceptance
of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the
multitude to be ingratefull, were to make a Monster of
the multitude; of the which, we being members, should
bring our selues to be monstrous members
   1.Cit. And to make vs no better thought of a little
helpe will serue: for once we stood vp about the Corne,
he himselfe stucke not to call vs the many-headed Multitude
   3.Cit. We haue beene call'd so of many, not that our
heads are some browne, some blacke, some Abram, some
bald; but that our wits are so diuersly Coulord; and truely
I thinke, if all our wittes were to issue out of one Scull,
they would flye East, West, North, South, and their consent
of one direct way, should be at once to all the points
a'th Compasse
   2.Cit. Thinke you so? Which way do you iudge my
wit would flye
   3.Cit. Nay your wit will not so soone out as another
mans will, 'tis strongly wadg'd vp in a blocke-head: but
if it were at liberty, 'twould sure Southward
   2 Cit. Why that way?
  3 Cit. To loose it selfe in a Fogge, where being three
parts melted away with rotten Dewes, the fourth would
returne for Conscience sake, to helpe to get thee a Wife
   2 Cit. You are neuer without your trickes, you may,
   3 Cit. Are you all resolu'd to giue your voyces? But
that's no matter, the greater part carries it, I say. If hee
would incline to the people, there was neuer a worthier
Enter Coriolanus in a gowne of Humility, with Menenius.
Heere he comes, and in the Gowne of humility, marke
his behauiour: we are not to stay altogether, but to come
by him where he stands, by ones, by twoes, & by threes.
He's to make his requests by particulars, wherein euerie
one of vs ha's a single Honor, in giuing him our own voices
with our owne tongues, therefore follow me, and Ile
direct you how you shall go by him
   All. Content, content
   Men. Oh Sir, you are not right: haue you not knowne
The worthiest men haue done't?
  Corio. What must I say, I pray Sir?
Plague vpon't, I cannot bring
My tongue to such a pace. Looke Sir, my wounds,
I got them in my Countries Seruice, when
Some certaine of your Brethren roar'd, and ranne
From th' noise of our owne Drummes
   Menen. Oh me the Gods, you must not speak of that,
You must desire them to thinke vpon you
   Coriol. Thinke vpon me? Hang 'em,
I would they would forget me, like the Vertues
Which our Diuines lose by em
   Men. You'l marre all,
Ile leaue you: Pray you speake to em, I pray you
In wholsome manner.
Enter three of the Citizens.
  Corio. Bid them wash their Faces,
And keepe their teeth cleane: So, heere comes a brace,
You know the cause (Sir) of my standing heere
   3 Cit. We do Sir, tell vs what hath brought you too't
   Corio. Mine owne desert
   2 Cit. Your owne desert
   Corio. I, but mine owne desire
   3 Cit. How not your owne desire?
  Corio. No Sir, 'twas neuer my desire yet to trouble the
poore with begging
   3 Cit. You must thinke if we giue you any thing, we
hope to gaine by you
   Corio. Well then I pray, your price a'th' Consulship
   1 Cit. The price is, to aske it kindly
   Corio. Kindly sir, I pray let me ha't: I haue wounds to
shew you, which shall bee yours in priuate: your good
voice sir, what say you?
  2 Cit. You shall ha't worthy Sir
   Corio. A match Sir, there's in all two worthie voyces
begg'd: I haue your Almes, Adieu
   3 Cit. But this is something odde
   2 Cit. And 'twere to giue againe: but 'tis no matter.
Exeunt. Enter two other Citizens.
  Coriol. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune
of your voices, that I may bee Consull, I haue heere the
Customarie Gowne
   1. You haue deserued Nobly of your Countrey, and
you haue not deserued Nobly
   Coriol. Your aenigma
   1. You haue bin a scourge to her enemies, you haue
bin a Rod to her Friends, you haue not indeede loued the
Common people
   Coriol. You should account mee the more Vertuous,
that I haue not bin common in my Loue, I will sir flatter
my sworne Brother the people to earne a deerer estimation
of them, 'tis a condition they account gentle: & since
the wisedome of their choice, is rather to haue my Hat,
then my Heart, I will practice the insinuating nod, and be
off to them most counterfetly, that is sir, I will counterfet
the bewitchment of some popular man, and giue it
bountifull to the desirers: Therefore beseech you, I may
   2. Wee hope to finde you our friend: and therefore
giue you our voices heartily
   1. You haue receyued many wounds for your Countrey
   Coriol. I wil not Seale your knowledge with shewing
them. I will make much of your voyces, and so trouble
you no farther
   Both. The Gods giue you ioy Sir heartily
   Coriol. Most sweet Voyces:
Better it is to dye, better to sterue,
Then craue the higher, which first we do deserue.
Why in this Wooluish tongue should I stand heere,
To begge of Hob and Dicke, that does appeere
Their needlesse Vouches: Custome calls me too't.
What Custome wills in all things, should we doo't?
The Dust on antique Time would lye vnswept,
And mountainous Error be too highly heapt,
For Truth to o're-peere. Rather then foole it so,
Let the high Office and the Honor go
To one that would doe thus. I am halfe through,
The one part suffered, the other will I doe.
Enter three Citizens more.
Here come moe Voyces.
Your Voyces? for your Voyces I haue sought,
Watcht for your Voyces: for your Voyces, beare
Of Wounds, two dozen odde: Battailes thrice six
I haue seene, and heard of: for your Voyces,
Haue done many things, some lesse, some more:
Your Voyces? Indeed I would be Consull
   1.Cit. Hee ha's done Nobly, and cannot goe without
any honest mans Voyce
   2.Cit. Therefore let him be Consull: the Gods giue him
ioy, and make him good friend to the People
   All. Amen, Amen. God saue thee, Noble Consull
   Corio. Worthy Voyces.
Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Scicinius.
  Mene. You haue stood your Limitation:
And the Tribunes endue you with the Peoples Voyce,
Remaines, that in th' Officiall Markes inuested,
You anon doe meet the Senate
   Corio. Is this done?
  Scicin. The Custome of Request you haue discharg'd:
The People doe admit you, and are summon'd
To meet anon, vpon your approbation
   Corio. Where? at the Senate-house?
  Scicin. There, Coriolanus
   Corio. May I change these Garments?
  Scicin. You may, Sir
   Cori. That Ile straight do: and knowing my selfe again,
Repayre toth' Senatehouse
   Mene. Ile keepe you company. Will you along?
  Brut. We stay here for the People
   Scicin. Fare you well.
Exeunt. Coriol. and Mene.
He ha's it now: and by his Lookes, me thinkes,
'Tis warme at's heart
   Brut. With a prowd heart he wore his humble Weeds:
Will you dismisse the People?
Enter the Plebeians.
  Scici. How now, my Masters, haue you chose this man?
  1.Cit. He ha's our Voyces, Sir
   Brut. We pray the Gods, he may deserue your loues
   2.Cit. Amen, Sir: to my poore vnworthy notice,
He mock'd vs, when he begg'd our Voyces
   3.Cit. Certainely, he flowted vs downe-right
   1.Cit. No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock vs
   2.Cit. Not one amongst vs, saue your selfe, but sayes
He vs'd vs scornefully: he should haue shew'd vs
His Marks of Merit, Wounds receiu'd for's Countrey
   Scicin. Why so he did, I am sure
   All. No, no: no man saw 'em
   3.Cit. Hee said hee had Wounds,
Which he could shew in priuate:
And with his Hat, thus wauing it in scorne,
I would be Consull, sayes he: aged Custome,
But by your Voyces, will not so permit me.
Your Voyces therefore: when we graunted that,
Here was, I thanke you for your Voyces, thanke you
Your most sweet Voyces: now you haue left your Voyces,
I haue no further with you. Was not this mockerie?
  Scicin. Why eyther were you ignorant to see't?
Or seeing it, of such Childish friendlinesse,
To yeeld your Voyces?
  Brut. Could you not haue told him,
As you were lesson'd: When he had no Power,
But was a pettie seruant to the State,
He was your Enemie, euer spake against
Your Liberties, and the Charters that you beare
I'th' Body of the Weale: and now arriuing
A place of Potencie, and sway o'th' State,
If he should still malignantly remaine
Fast Foe toth' Plebeij, your Voyces might
Be Curses to your selues. You should haue said,
That as his worthy deeds did clayme no lesse
Then what he stood for: so his gracious nature
Would thinke vpon you, for your Voyces,
And translate his Mallice towards you, into Loue,
Standing your friendly Lord
   Scicin. Thus to haue said,
As you were fore-aduis'd, had toucht his Spirit,
And try'd his Inclination: from him pluckt
Eyther his gracious Promise, which you might
As cause had call'd you vp, haue held him to;
Or else it would haue gall'd his surly nature,
Which easily endures not Article,
Tying him to ought, so putting him to Rage,
You should haue ta'ne th' aduantage of his Choller,
And pass'd him vnelected
   Brut. Did you perceiue,
He did sollicite you in free Contempt,
When he did need your Loues: and doe you thinke,
That his Contempt shall not be brusing to you,
When he hath power to crush? Why, had your Bodyes
No Heart among you? Or had you Tongues, to cry
Against the Rectorship of Iudgement?
  Scicin. Haue you, ere now, deny'd the asker:
And now againe, of him that did not aske, but mock,
Bestow your su'd-for Tongues?
  3.Cit. Hee's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet
   2.Cit. And will deny him:
Ile haue fiue hundred Voyces of that sound
   1.Cit. I twice fiue hundred, & their friends, to piece 'em
   Brut. Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends,
They haue chose a Consull, that will from them take
Their Liberties, make them of no more Voyce
Then Dogges, that are as often beat for barking,
As therefore kept to doe so
   Scici. Let them assemble: and on a safer Iudgement,
All reuoke your ignorant election: Enforce his Pride,
And his old Hate vnto you: besides, forget not
With what Contempt he wore the humble Weed,
How in his Suit he scorn'd you: but your Loues,
Thinking vpon his Seruices, tooke from you
Th' apprehension of his present portance,
Which most gibingly, vngrauely, he did fashion
After the inueterate Hate he beares you
   Brut. Lay a fault on vs, your Tribunes,
That we labour'd (no impediment betweene)
But that you must cast your Election on him
   Scici. Say you chose him, more after our commandment,
Then as guided by your owne true affections, and that
Your Minds pre-occupy'd with what you rather must do,
Then what you should, made you against the graine
To Voyce him Consull. Lay the fault on vs
   Brut. I, spare vs not: Say, we read Lectures to you,
How youngly he began to serue his Countrey,
How long continued, and what stock he springs of,
The Noble House o'th'Martians: from whence came
That Ancus Martius, Numaes Daughters Sonne:
Who after great Hostilius here was King,
Of the same House Publius and Quintus were,
That our best Water, brought by Conduits hither,
And Nobly nam'd, so twice being Censor,
Was his great Ancestor
   Scicin. One thus descended,
That hath beside well in his person wrought,
To be set high in place, we did commend
To your remembrances: but you haue found,
Skaling his present bearing with his past,
That hee's your fixed enemie; and reuoke
Your suddaine approbation
   Brut. Say you ne're had don't,
(Harpe on that still) but by our putting on:
And presently, when you haue drawne your number,
Repaire toth' Capitoll
   All. We will so: almost all repent in their election.
Exeunt. Plebeians.
  Brut. Let them goe on:
This Mutinie were better put in hazard,
Then stay past doubt, for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
With their refusall, both obserue and answer
The vantage of his anger
   Scicin. Toth' Capitoll, come:
We will be there before the streame o'th' People:
And this shall seeme, as partly 'tis, their owne,
Which we haue goaded on-ward.
Actus Tertius.
Cornets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry, Cominius,
Latius, and other Senators.
  Corio. Tullus Auffidius then had made new head
   Latius. He had, my Lord, and that it was which caus'd
Our swifter Composition
   Corio. So then the Volces stand but as at first,
Readie when time shall prompt them, to make roade
Vpon's againe
   Com. They are worne (Lord Consull) so,
That we shall hardly in our ages see
Their Banners waue againe
   Corio. Saw you Auffidius?
  Latius. On safegard he came to me, and did curse
Against the Volces, for they had so vildly
Yeelded the Towne: he is retyred to Antium
   Corio. Spoke he of me?
  Latius. He did, my Lord
   Corio. How? what?
  Latius. How often he had met you Sword to Sword:
That of all things vpon the Earth, he hated
Your person most: That he would pawne his fortunes
To hopelesse restitution, so he might
Be call'd your Vanquisher
   Corio. At Antium liues he?
  Latius. At Antium
   Corio. I wish I had a cause to seeke him there,
To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home.
Enter Scicinius and Brutus.
Behold, these are the Tribunes of the People,
The Tongues o'th' Common Mouth. I do despise them:
For they doe pranke them in Authoritie,
Against all Noble sufferance
   Scicin. Passe no further
   Cor. Hah? what is that?
  Brut. It will be dangerous to goe on- No further
   Corio. What makes this change?
  Menen. The matter?
  Com. Hath he not pass'd the Noble, and the Common?
  Brut. Cominius, no
   Corio. Haue I had Childrens Voyces?
  Senat. Tribunes giue way, he shall toth' Market place
   Brut. The People are incens'd against him
   Scicin. Stop, or all will fall in broyle
   Corio. Are these your Heard?
Must these haue Voyces, that can yeeld them now,
And straight disclaim their toungs? what are your Offices?
You being their Mouthes, why rule you not their Teeth?
Haue you not set them on?
  Mene. Be calme, be calme
   Corio. It is a purpos'd thing, and growes by Plot,
To curbe the will of the Nobilitie:
Suffer't, and liue with such as cannot rule,
Nor euer will be ruled
   Brut. Call't not a Plot:
The People cry you mockt them: and of late,
When Corne was giuen them gratis, you repin'd,
Scandal'd the Suppliants: for the People, call'd them
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to Noblenesse
   Corio. Why this was knowne before
   Brut. Not to them all
   Corio. Haue you inform'd them sithence?
  Brut. How? I informe them?
  Com. You are like to doe such businesse
   Brut. Not vnlike each way to better yours
   Corio. Why then should I be Consull? by yond Clouds
Let me deserue so ill as you, and make me
Your fellow Tribune
   Scicin. You shew too much of that,
For which the People stirre: if you will passe
To where you are bound, you must enquire your way,
Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit,
Or neuer be so Noble as a Consull,
Nor yoake with him for Tribune
   Mene. Let's be calme
   Com. The People are abus'd: set on, this paltring
Becomes not Rome: nor ha's Coriolanus
Deseru'd this so dishonor'd Rub, layd falsely
I'th' plaine Way of his Merit
   Corio. Tell me of Corne: this was my speech,
And I will speak't againe
   Mene. Not now, not now
   Senat. Not in this heat, Sir, now
   Corio. Now as I liue, I will.
My Nobler friends, I craue their pardons:
For the mutable ranke-sented Meynie,
Let them regard me, as I doe not flatter,
And therein behold themselues: I say againe,
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our Senate
The Cockle of Rebellion, Insolence, Sedition,
Which we our selues haue plowed for, sow'd, & scatter'd,
By mingling them with vs, the honor'd Number,
Who lack not Vertue, no, nor Power, but that
Which they haue giuen to Beggers
   Mene. Well, no more
   Senat. No more words, we beseech you
   Corio. How? no more?
As for my Country, I haue shed my blood,
Not fearing outward force: So shall my Lungs
Coine words till their decay, against those Meazels
Which we disdaine should Tetter vs, yet sought
The very way to catch them
   Bru. You speake a'th' people, as if you were a God,
To punish; Not a man, of their Infirmity
   Sicin. 'Twere well we let the people know't
   Mene. What, what? His Choller?
  Cor. Choller? Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By Ioue, 'twould be my minde
   Sicin. It is a minde that shall remain a poison
Where it is: not poyson any further
   Corio. Shall remaine?
Heare you this Triton of the Minnoues? Marke you
His absolute Shall?
  Com. 'Twas from the Cannon
   Cor. Shall? O God! but most vnwise Patricians: why
You graue, but wreaklesse Senators, haue you thus
Giuen Hidra heere to choose an Officer,
That with his peremptory Shall, being but
The horne, and noise o'th' Monsters, wants not spirit
To say, hee'l turne your Current in a ditch,
And make your Channell his? If he haue power,
Then vale your Ignorance: If none, awake
Your dangerous Lenity: If you are Learn'd,
Be not as common Fooles; if you are not,
Let them haue Cushions by you. You are Plebeians,
If they be Senators: and they are no lesse,
When both your voices blended, the great'st taste
Most pallates theirs. They choose their Magistrate,
And such a one as he, who puts his Shall,
His popular Shall, against a grauer Bench
Then euer frown'd in Greece. By Ioue himselfe,
It makes the Consuls base; and my Soule akes
To know, when two Authorities are vp,
Neither Supreame; How soone Confusion
May enter 'twixt the gap of Both, and take
The one by th' other
   Com. Well, on to'th' Market place
   Corio. Who euer gaue that Counsell, to giue forth
The Corne a'th' Store-house gratis, as 'twas vs'd
Sometime in Greece
   Mene. Well, well, no more of that
   Cor. Thogh there the people had more absolute powre
I say they norisht disobedience: fed, the ruin of the State
   Bru. Why shall the people giue
One that speakes thus, their voyce?
  Corio. Ile giue my Reasons,
More worthier then their Voyces. They know the Corne
Was not our recompence, resting well assur'd
They ne're did seruice for't; being prest to'th' Warre,
Euen when the Nauell of the State was touch'd,
They would not thred the Gates: This kinde of Seruice
Did not deserue Corne gratis. Being i'th' Warre,
There Mutinies and Reuolts, wherein they shew'd
Most Valour spoke not for them. Th' Accusation
Which they haue often made against the Senate,
All cause vnborne, could neuer be the Natiue
Of our so franke Donation. Well, what then?
How shall this Bosome-multiplied, digest
The Senates Courtesie? Let deeds expresse
What's like to be their words, We did request it,
We are the greater pole, and in true feare
They gaue vs our demands. Thus we debase
The Nature of our Seats, and make the Rabble
Call our Cares, Feares; which will in time
Breake ope the Lockes a'th' Senate, and bring in
The Crowes to pecke the Eagles
   Mene. Come enough
   Bru. Enough, with ouer measure
   Corio. No, take more.
What may be sworne by, both Diuine and Humane,
Seale what I end withall. This double worship,
Whereon part do's disdaine with cause, the other
Insult without all reason: where Gentry, Title, wisedom
Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no
Of generall Ignorance, it must omit
Reall Necessities, and giue way the while
To vnstable Slightnesse. Purpose so barr'd, it followes,
Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore beseech you,
You that will be lesse fearefull, then discreet,
That loue the Fundamentall part of State
More then you doubt the change on't: That preferre
A Noble life, before a Long, and Wish,
To iumpe a Body with a dangerous Physicke,
That's sure of death without it: at once plucke out
The Multitudinous Tongue, let them not licke
The sweet which is their poyson. Your dishonor
Mangles true iudgement, and bereaues the State
Of that Integrity which should becom't:
Not hauing the power to do the good it would
For th' ill which doth controul't
   Bru. Has said enough
   Sicin. Ha's spoken like a Traitor, and shall answer
As Traitors do
   Corio. Thou wretch, despight ore-whelme thee:
What should the people do with these bald Tribunes?
On whom depending, their obedience failes
To'th' greater Bench, in a Rebellion:
When what's not meet, but what must be, was Law,
Then were they chosen: in a better houre,
Let what is meet, be saide it must be meet,
And throw their power i'th' dust
   Bru. Manifest Treason
   Sicin. This a Consull? No.
Enter an aedile.
  Bru. The Ediles hoe: Let him be apprehended:
  Sicin. Go call the people, in whose name my Selfe
Attach thee as a Traitorous Innouator:
A Foe to'th' publike Weale. Obey I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer
   Corio. Hence old Goat
   All. Wee'l Surety him
   Com. Ag'd sir, hands off
   Corio. Hence rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy Garments
   Sicin. Helpe ye Citizens.
Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Aediles.
  Mene. On both sides more respect
   Sicin. Heere's hee, that would take from you all your
   Bru. Seize him Aediles
   All. Downe with him, downe with him
   2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons:
They all bustle about Coriolanus.
Tribunes, Patricians, Citizens: what ho:
Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, Citizens
   All. Peace, peace, peace, stay, hold, peace
   Mene. What is about to be? I am out of Breath,
Confusions neere, I cannot speake. You, Tribunes
To'th' people: Coriolanus, patience: Speak good Sicinius
   Scici. Heare me, People peace
   All. Let's here our Tribune: peace, speake, speake,
   Scici. You are at point to lose your Liberties:
Martius would haue all from you; Martius,
Whom late you haue nam'd for Consull
   Mene. Fie, fie, fie, this is the way to kindle, not to
   Sena. To vnbuild the Citie, and to lay all flat
   Scici. What is the Citie, but the People?
  All. True, the People are the Citie
   Brut. By the consent of all, we were establish'd the
Peoples Magistrates
   All. You so remaine
   Mene. And so are like to doe
   Com. That is the way to lay the Citie flat,
To bring the Roofe to the Foundation,
And burie all, which yet distinctly raunges
In heapes, and piles of Ruine
   Scici. This deserues Death
   Brut. Or let vs stand to our Authoritie,
Or let vs lose it: we doe here pronounce,
Vpon the part o'th' People, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy
Of present Death
   Scici. Therefore lay hold of him:
Beare him toth' Rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him
   Brut. aediles seize him
   All Ple. Yeeld Martius, yeeld
   Mene. Heare me one word, 'beseech you Tribunes,
heare me but a word
   Aediles. Peace, peace
   Mene. Be that you seeme, truly your Countries friend,
And temp'rately proceed to what you would
Thus violently redresse
   Brut. Sir, those cold wayes,
That seeme like prudent helpes, are very poysonous,
Where the Disease is violent. Lay hands vpon him,
And beare him to the Rock.
Corio. drawes his Sword.
  Corio. No, Ile die here:
There's some among you haue beheld me fighting,
Come trie vpon your selues, what you haue seene me
   Mene. Downe with that Sword, Tribunes withdraw
   Brut. Lay hands vpon him
   Mene. Helpe Martius, helpe: you that be noble, helpe
him young and old
   All. Downe with him, downe with him.
In this Mutinie, the Tribunes, the aediles, and the People are beat
  Mene. Goe, get you to our House: be gone, away.
All will be naught else
   2.Sena. Get you gone
   Com. Stand fast, we haue as many friends as enemies
   Mene. Shall it be put to that?
  Sena. The Gods forbid:
I prythee noble friend, home to thy House,
Leaue vs to cure this Cause
   Mene. For 'tis a Sore vpon vs,
You cannot Tent your selfe: be gone, 'beseech you
   Corio. Come Sir, along with vs
   Mene. I would they were Barbarians, as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd: not Romans, as they are not,
Though calued i'th' Porch o'th' Capitoll:
Be gone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue,
One time will owe another
   Corio. On faire ground, I could beat fortie of them
   Mene. I could my selfe take vp a Brace o'th' best of
them, yea, the two Tribunes
   Com. But now 'tis oddes beyond Arithmetick,
And Manhood is call'd Foolerie, when it stands
Against a falling Fabrick. Will you hence,
Before the Tagge returne? whose Rage doth rend
Like interrupted Waters, and o're-beare
What they are vs'd to beare
   Mene. Pray you be gone:
Ile trie whether my old Wit be in request
With those that haue but little: this must be patcht
With Cloth of any Colour
   Com. Nay, come away.
Exeunt. Coriolanus and Cominius.
  Patri. This man ha's marr'd his fortune
   Mene. His nature is too noble for the World:
He would not flatter Neptune for his Trident,
Or Ioue, for's power to Thunder: his Heart's his Mouth:
What his Brest forges, that his Tongue must vent,
And being angry, does forget that euer
He heard the Name of Death.
A Noise within.
Here's goodly worke
   Patri. I would they were a bed
   Mene. I would they were in Tyber.
What the vengeance, could he not speake 'em faire?
Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble againe.
  Sicin. Where is this Viper,
That would depopulate the city, & be euery man himself
  Mene. You worthy Tribunes
   Sicin. He shall be throwne downe the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands: he hath resisted Law,
And therefore Law shall scorne him further Triall
Then the seuerity of the publike Power,
Which he so sets at naught
   1 Cit. He shall well know the Noble Tribunes are
The peoples mouths, and we their hands
   All. He shall sure ont
   Mene. Sir, sir
   Sicin. Peace
   Me. Do not cry hauocke, where you shold but hunt
With modest warrant
   Sicin. Sir, how com'st that you haue holpe
To make this rescue?
  Mene. Heere me speake? As I do know
The Consuls worthinesse, so can I name his Faults
   Sicin. Consull? what Consull?
  Mene. The Consull Coriolanus
   Bru. He Consull
   All. No, no, no, no, no
   Mene. If by the Tribunes leaue,
And yours good people,
I may be heard, I would craue a word or two,
The which shall turne you to no further harme,
Then so much losse of time
   Sic. Speake breefely then,
For we are peremptory to dispatch
This Viporous Traitor: to eiect him hence
Were but one danger, and to keepe him heere
Our certaine death: therefore it is decreed,
He dyes to night
   Menen. Now the good Gods forbid,
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserued Children, is enroll'd
In Ioues owne Booke, like an vnnaturall Dam
Should now eate vp her owne
   Sicin. He's a Disease that must be cut away
   Mene. Oh he's a Limbe, that ha's but a Disease
Mortall, to cut it off: to cure it, easie.
What ha's he done to Rome, that's worthy death?
Killing our Enemies, the blood he hath lost
(Which I dare vouch, is more then that he hath
By many an Ounce) he dropp'd it for his Country:
And what is left, to loose it by his Countrey,
Were to vs all that doo't, and suffer it
A brand to th' end a'th World
   Sicin. This is cleane kamme
   Brut. Meerely awry:
When he did loue his Country, it honour'd him
   Menen. The seruice of the foote
Being once gangren'd, is not then respected
For what before it was
   Bru. Wee'l heare no more:
Pursue him to his house, and plucke him thence,
Least his infection being of catching nature,
Spred further
   Menen. One word more, one word:
This Tiger-footed-rage, when it shall find
The harme of vnskan'd swiftnesse, will (too late)
Tye Leaden pounds too's heeles. Proceed by Processe,
Least parties (as he is belou'd) breake out,
And sacke great Rome with Romanes
   Brut. If it were so?
  Sicin. What do ye talke?
Haue we not had a taste of his Obedience?
Our Ediles smot: our selues resisted: come
   Mene. Consider this: He ha's bin bred i'th' Warres
Since a could draw a Sword, and is ill-school'd
In boulted Language: Meale and Bran together
He throwes without distinction. Giue me leaue,
Ile go to him, and vndertake to bring him in peace,
Where he shall answer by a lawfull Forme
(In peace) to his vtmost perill
   1.Sen. Noble Tribunes,
It is the humane way: the other course
Will proue to bloody: and the end of it,
Vnknowne to the Beginning
   Sic. Noble Menenius, be you then as the peoples officer:
Masters, lay downe your Weapons
   Bru. Go not home
   Sic. Meet on the Market place: wee'l attend you there:
Where if you bring not Martius, wee'l proceede
In our first way
   Menen. Ile bring him to you.
Let me desire your company: he must come,
Or what is worst will follow
   Sena. Pray you let's to him.
Exeunt. Omnes.
Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.
  Corio. Let them pull all about mine eares, present me
Death on the Wheele, or at wilde Horses heeles,
Or pile ten hilles on the Tarpeian Rocke,
That the precipitation might downe stretch
Below the beame of sight; yet will I still
Be thus to them.
Enter Volumnia.
  Noble. You do the Nobler
   Corio. I muse my Mother
Do's not approue me further, who was wont
To call them Wollen Vassailes, things created
To buy and sell with Groats, to shew bare heads
In Congregations, to yawne, be still, and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance stood vp
To speake of Peace, or Warre. I talke of you,
Why did you wish me milder? Would you haue me
False to my Nature? Rather say, I play
The man I am
   Volum. Oh sir, sir, sir,
I would haue had you put your power well on
Before you had worne it out
   Corio. Let go
   Vol. You might haue beene enough the man you are,
With striuing lesse to be so: Lesser had bin
The things of your dispositions, if
You had not shew'd them how ye were dispos'd
Ere they lack'd power to crosse you
   Corio. Let them hang
   Volum. I, and burne too.
Enter Menenius with the Senators.
  Men. Come, come, you haue bin too rough, somthing
too rough: you must returne, and mend it
   Sen. There's no remedy,
Vnlesse by not so doing, our good Citie
Cleaue in the midd'st, and perish
   Volum. Pray be counsail'd;
I haue a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a braine, that leades my vse of Anger
To better vantage
   Mene. Well said, Noble woman:
Before he should thus stoope to'th' heart, but that
The violent fit a'th' time craues it as Physicke
For the whole State; I would put mine Armour on,
Which I can scarsely beare
   Corio. What must I do?
  Mene. Returne to th' Tribunes
   Corio. Well, what then? what then?
  Mene. Repent, what you haue spoke
   Corio. For them, I cannot do it to the Gods,
Must I then doo't to them?
  Volum. You are too absolute,
Though therein you can neuer be too Noble,
But when extremities speake. I haue heard you say,
Honor and Policy, like vnseuer'd Friends,
I'th' Warre do grow together: Grant that, and tell me
In Peace, what each of them by th' other loose,
That they combine not there?
  Corio. Tush, tush
   Mene. A good demand
   Volum. If it be Honor in your Warres, to seeme
The same you are not, which for your best ends
You adopt your policy: How is it lesse or worse
That it shall hold Companionship in Peace
With Honour, as in Warre; since that to both
It stands in like request
   Corio. Why force you this?
  Volum. Because, that
Now it lyes you on to speake to th' people:
Not by your owne instruction, nor by'th' matter
Which your heart prompts you, but with such words
That are but roated in your Tongue;
Though but Bastards, and Syllables
Of no allowance, to your bosomes truth.
Now, this no more dishonors you at all,
Then to take in a Towne with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune, and
The hazard of much blood.
I would dissemble with my Nature, where
My Fortunes and my Friends at stake, requir'd
I should do so in Honor. I am in this
Your Wife, your Sonne: These Senators, the Nobles,
And you, will rather shew our generall Lowts,
How you can frowne, then spend a fawne vpon 'em,
For the inheritance of their loues, and safegard
Of what that want might ruine
   Menen. Noble Lady,
Come goe with vs, speake faire: you may salue so,
Not what is dangerous present, but the losse
Of what is past
   Volum. I prythee now, my Sonne,
Goe to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand,
And thus farre hauing stretcht it (here be with them)
Thy Knee bussing the stones: for in such businesse
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant
More learned then the eares, wauing thy head,
Which often thus correcting thy stout heart,
Now humble as the ripest Mulberry,
That will not hold the handling: or say to them,
Thou art their Souldier, and being bred in broyles,
Hast not the soft way, which thou do'st confesse
Were fit for thee to vse, as they to clayme,
In asking their good loues, but thou wilt frame
Thy selfe (forsooth) hereafter theirs so farre,
As thou hast power and person
   Menen. This but done,
Euen as she speakes, why their hearts were yours:
For they haue Pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpose
   Volum. Prythee now,
Goe, and be rul'd: although I know thou hadst rather
Follow thine Enemie in a fierie Gulfe,
Then flatter him in a Bower.
Enter Cominius.
Here is Cominius
   Com. I haue beene i'th' Market place: and Sir 'tis fit
You make strong partie, or defend your selfe
By calmenesse, or by absence: all's in anger
   Menen. Onely faire speech
   Com. I thinke 'twill serue, if he can thereto frame his
   Volum. He must, and will:
Prythee now say you will, and goe about it
   Corio. Must I goe shew them my vnbarb'd Sconce?
Must I with my base Tongue giue to my Noble Heart
A Lye, that it must beare well? I will doo't:
Yet were there but this single Plot, to loose
This Mould of Martius, they to dust should grinde it,
And throw't against the Winde. Toth' Market place:
You haue put me now to such a part, which neuer
I shall discharge toth' Life
   Com. Come, come, wee'le prompt you
   Volum. I prythee now sweet Son, as thou hast said
My praises made thee first a Souldier; so
To haue my praise for this, performe a part
Thou hast not done before
   Corio. Well, I must doo't:
Away my disposition, and possesse me
Some Harlots spirit: My throat of Warre be turn'd,
Which quier'd with my Drumme into a Pipe,
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin voyce
That Babies lull a-sleepe: The smiles of Knaues
Tent in my cheekes, and Schoole-boyes Teares take vp
The Glasses of my sight: A Beggars Tongue
Make motion through my Lips, and my Arm'd knees
Who bow'd but in my Stirrop, bend like his
That hath receiu'd an Almes. I will not doo't,
Least I surcease to honor mine owne truth,
And by my Bodies action, teach my Minde
A most inherent Basenesse
   Volum. At thy choice then:
To begge of thee, it is my more dis-honor,
Then thou of them. Come all to ruine, let
Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then feare
Thy dangerous Stoutnesse: for I mocke at death
With as bigge heart as thou. Do as thou list,
Thy Valiantnesse was mine, thou suck'st it from me:
But owe thy Pride thy selfe
   Corio. Pray be content:
Mother, I am going to the Market place:
Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loues,
Cogge their Hearts from them, and come home belou'd
Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am going:
Commend me to my Wife, Ile returne Consull,
Or neuer trust to what my Tongue can do
I'th way of Flattery further
   Volum. Do your will.
Exit Volumnia
  Com. Away, the Tribunes do attend you: arm your self
To answer mildely: for they are prepar'd
With Accusations, as I heare more strong
Then are vpon you yet
   Corio. The word is, Mildely. Pray you let vs go,
Let them accuse me by inuention: I
Will answer in mine Honor
   Menen. I, but mildely
   Corio. Well mildely be it then, Mildely.
Enter Sicinius and Brutus.
  Bru. In this point charge him home, that he affects
Tyrannicall power: If he euade vs there,
Inforce him with his enuy to the people,
And that the Spoile got on the Antiats
Was ne're distributed. What, will he come?
Enter an Edile.
  Edile. Hee's comming
   Bru. How accompanied?
  Edile. With old Menenius, and those Senators
That alwayes fauour'd him
   Sicin. Haue you a Catalogue
Of all the Voices that we haue procur'd, set downe by'th Pole?
  Edile. I haue: 'tis ready
   Sicin. Haue you collected them by Tribes?
  Edile. I haue
   Sicin. Assemble presently the people hither:
And when they heare me say, it shall be so,
I'th' right and strength a'th' Commons: be it either
For death, for fine, or Banishment, then let them
If I say Fine, cry Fine; if Death, cry Death,
Insisting on the olde prerogatiue
And power i'th Truth a'th Cause
   Edile. I shall informe them
   Bru. And when such time they haue begun to cry,
Let them not cease, but with a dinne confus'd
Inforce the present Execution
Of what we chance to Sentence
   Edi. Very well
   Sicin. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint
When we shall hap to giu't them
   Bru. Go about it,
Put him to Choller straite, he hath bene vs'd
Euer to conquer, and to haue his worth
Of contradiction. Being once chaft, he cannot
Be rein'd againe to Temperance, then he speakes
What's in his heart, and that is there which lookes
With vs to breake his necke.
Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others.
  Sicin. Well, heere he comes
   Mene. Calmely, I do beseech you
   Corio. I, as an Hostler, that fourth poorest peece
Will beare the Knaue by'th Volume:
Th' honor'd Goddes
Keepe Rome in safety, and the Chaires of Iustice
Supplied with worthy men, plant loue amongs
Through our large Temples with y shewes of peace
And not our streets with Warre
   1 Sen. Amen, Amen
   Mene. A Noble wish.
Enter the Edile with the Plebeians.
  Sicin. Draw neere ye people
   Edile. List to your Tribunes. Audience:
   Corio. First heare me speake
   Both Tri. Well, say: Peace hoe
   Corio. Shall I be charg'd no further then this present?
Must all determine heere?
  Sicin. I do demand,
If you submit you to the peoples voices,
Allow their Officers, and are content
To suffer lawfull Censure for such faults
As shall be prou'd vpon you
   Corio. I am Content
   Mene. Lo Citizens, he sayes he is Content.
The warlike Seruice he ha's done, consider: Thinke
Vpon the wounds his body beares, which shew
Like Graues i'th holy Church-yard
   Corio. Scratches with Briars, scarres to moue
Laughter onely
   Mene. Consider further:
That when he speakes not like a Citizen,
You finde him like a Soldier: do not take
His rougher Actions for malicious sounds:
But as I say, such as become a Soldier,
Rather then enuy you
   Com. Well, well, no more
   Corio. What is the matter,
That being past for Consull with full voyce:
I am so dishonour'd, that the very houre
You take it off againe
   Sicin. Answer to vs
   Corio. Say then: 'tis true, I ought so
  Sicin. We charge you, that you haue contriu'd to take
From Rome all season'd Office, and to winde
Your selfe into a power tyrannicall,
For which you are a Traitor to the people
   Corio. How? Traytor?
  Mene. Nay temperately: your promise
   Corio. The fires i'th' lowest hell. Fould in the people:
Call me their Traitor, thou iniurious Tribune.
Within thine eyes sate twenty thousand deaths
In thy hands clutcht: as many Millions in
Thy lying tongue, both numbers. I would say
Thou lyest vnto thee, with a voice as free,
As I do pray the Gods
   Sicin. Marke you this people?
  All. To'th' Rocke, to'th' Rocke with him
   Sicin. Peace:
We neede not put new matter to his charge:
What you haue seene him do, and heard him speake:
Beating your Officers, cursing your selues,
Opposing Lawes with stroakes, and heere defying
Those whose great power must try him.
Euen this so criminall, and in such capitall kinde
Deserues th' extreamest death
   Bru. But since he hath seru'd well for Rome
   Corio. What do you prate of Seruice
   Brut. I talke of that, that know it
   Corio. You?
  Mene. Is this the promise that you made your mother
   Com. Know, I pray you
   Corio. Ile know no further:
Let them pronounce the steepe Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, Fleaing, pent to linger
But with a graine a day, I would not buy
Their mercie, at the price of one faire word,
Nor checke my Courage for what they can giue,
To haue't with saying, Good morrow
   Sicin. For that he ha's
(As much as in him lies) from time to time
Enui'd against the people; seeking meanes
To plucke away their power: as now at last,
Giuen Hostile strokes, and that not in the presence
Of dreaded Iustice, but on the Ministers
That doth distribute it. In the name a'th' people,
And in the power of vs the Tribunes, wee
(Eu'n from this instant) banish him our Citie
In perill of precipitation
From off the Rocke Tarpeian, neuer more
To enter our Rome gates. I'th' Peoples name,
I say it shall bee so
   All. It shall be so, it shall be so: let him away:
Hee's banish'd, and it shall be so
   Com. Heare me my Masters, and my common friends
   Sicin. He's sentenc'd: No more hearing
   Com. Let me speake:
I haue bene Consull, and can shew from Rome
Her Enemies markes vpon me. I do loue
My Countries good, with a respect more tender,
More holy, and profound, then mine owne life,
My deere Wiues estimate, her wombes encrease,
And treasure of my Loynes: then if I would
   Sicin. We know your drift. Speake what?
  Bru. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd
As Enemy to the people, and his Countrey.
It shall bee so
   All. It shall be so, it shall be so
   Corio. You common cry of Curs, whose breath I hate,
As reeke a'th' rotten Fennes: whose Loues I prize,
As the dead Carkasses of vnburied men,
That do corrupt my Ayre: I banish you,
And heere remaine with your vncertaintie.
Let euery feeble Rumor shake your hearts:
Your Enemies, with nodding of their Plumes
Fan you into dispaire: Haue the power still
To banish your Defenders, till at length
Your ignorance (which findes not till it feeles,
Making but reseruation of your selues,
Still your owne Foes) deliuer you
As most abated Captiues, to some Nation
That wonne you without blowes, despising
For you the City. Thus I turne my backe;
There is a world elsewhere.
Exeunt. Coriolanus, Cominius, with Cumalijs. They all shout, and
  Edile. The peoples Enemy is gone, is gone
   All. Our enemy is banish'd, he is gone: Hoo, oo
   Sicin. Go see him out at Gates, and follow him
As he hath follow'd you, with all despight
Giue him deseru'd vexation. Let a guard
Attend vs through the City
   All. Come, come, lets see him out at gates, come:
The Gods preserue our Noble Tribunes, come.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with
Nobility of Rome.
  Corio. Come leaue your teares: a brief farwel: the beast
With many heads butts me away. Nay Mother,
Where is your ancient Courage? You were vs'd
To say, Extreamities was the trier of spirits,
That common chances. Common men could beare,
That when the Sea was calme, all Boats alike
Shew'd Mastership in floating. Fortunes blowes,
When most strooke home, being gentle wounded, craues
A Noble cunning. You were vs'd to load me
With Precepts that would make inuincible
The heart that conn'd them
   Virg. Oh heauens! O heauens!
  Corio. Nay, I prythee woman
   Vol. Now the Red Pestilence strike al Trades in Rome,
And Occupations perish
   Corio. What, what, what:
I shall be lou'd when I am lack'd. Nay Mother,
Resume that Spirit, when you were wont to say,
If you had beene the Wife of Hercules,
Six of his Labours youl'd haue done, and sau'd
Your Husband so much swet. Cominius,
Droope not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother,
Ile do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy teares are salter then a yonger mans,
And venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) Generall,
I haue seene the Sterne, and thou hast oft beheld
Heart-hardning spectacles. Tell these sad women,
Tis fond to waile ineuitable strokes,
As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My Mother, you wot well
My hazards still haue beene your solace, and
Beleeu't not lightly, though I go alone
Like to a lonely Dragon, that his Fenne
Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more then seene: your Sonne
Will or exceed the Common, or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice
   Volum. My first sonne,
Whether will thou go? Take good Cominius
With thee awhile: Determine on some course
More then a wilde exposture, to each chance
That starts i'th' way before thee
   Corio. O the Gods!
  Com. Ile follow thee a Moneth, deuise with thee
Where thou shalt rest, that thou may'st heare of vs,
And we of thee. So if the time thrust forth
A cause for thy Repeale, we shall not send
O're the vast world, to seeke a single man,
And loose aduantage, which doth euer coole
Ith' absence of the needer
   Corio. Fare ye well:
Thou hast yeares vpon thee, and thou art too full
Of the warres surfets, to go roue with one
That's yet vnbruis'd: bring me but out at gate.
Come my sweet wife, my deerest Mother, and
My Friends of Noble touch: when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you come:
While I remaine aboue the ground, you shall
Heare from me still, and neuer of me ought
But what is like me formerly
   Menen. That's worthily
As any eare can heare. Come, let's not weepe,
If I could shake off but one seuen yeeres
From these old armes and legges, by the good Gods
I'ld with thee, euery foot
   Corio. Giue me thy hand, come.
Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus, with the Edile.
  Sicin. Bid them all home, he's gone: & wee'l no further,
The Nobility are vexed, whom we see haue sided
In his behalfe
   Brut. Now we haue shewne our power,
Let vs seeme humbler after it is done,
Then when it was a dooing
   Sicin. Bid them home: say their great enemy is gone,
And they, stand in their ancient strength
   Brut. Dismisse them home. Here comes his Mother.
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.
  Sicin. Let's not meet her
   Brut. Why?
  Sicin. They say she's mad
   Brut. They haue tane note of vs: keepe on your way
   Volum. Oh y'are well met:
Th' hoorded plague a'th' Gods requit your loue
   Menen. Peace, peace, be not so loud
   Volum. If that I could for weeping, you should heare,
Nay, and you shall heare some. Will you be gone?
  Virg. You shall stay too: I would I had the power
To say so to my Husband
   Sicin. Are you mankinde?
  Volum. I foole, is that a shame. Note but this Foole,
Was not a man my Father? Had'st thou Foxship
To banish him that strooke more blowes for Rome
Then thou hast spoken words
   Sicin. Oh blessed Heauens!
  Volum. Moe Noble blowes, then euer y wise words.
And for Romes good, Ile tell thee what: yet goe:
Nay but thou shalt stay too: I would my Sonne
Were in Arabia, and thy Tribe before him,
His good Sword in his hand
   Sicin. What then?
  Virg. When then? Hee'ld make an end of thy posterity
  Volum. Bastards, and all.
Good man, the Wounds that he does beare for Rome!
  Menen. Come, come, peace
   Sicin. I would he had continued to his Country
As he began, and not vnknit himselfe
The Noble knot he made
   Bru. I would he had
   Volum. I would he had? Twas thou incenst the rable.
Cats, that can iudge as fitly of his worth,
As I can of those Mysteries which heauen
Will not haue earth to know
   Brut. Pray let's go
   Volum. Now pray sir get you gone.
You haue done a braue deede: Ere you go, heare this:
As farre as doth the Capitoll exceede
The meanest house in Rome; so farre my Sonne
This Ladies Husband heere; this (do you see)
Whom you haue banish'd, does exceed you all
   Bru. Well, well, wee'l leaue you
   Sicin. Why stay we to be baited
With one that wants her Wits.
Exit Tribunes.
  Volum. Take my Prayers with you.
I would the Gods had nothing else to do,
But to confirme my Cursses. Could I meete 'em
But once a day, it would vnclogge my heart
Of what lyes heauy too't
   Mene. You haue told them home,
And by my troth you haue cause: you'l Sup with me
   Volum. Angers my Meate: I suppe vpon my selfe,
And so shall sterue with Feeding: come, let's go,
Leaue this faint-puling, and lament as I do,
In Anger, Iuno-like: Come, come, come.
  Mene. Fie, fie, fie.
Enter a Roman, and a Volce.
  Rom. I know you well sir, and you know mee: your
name I thinke is Adrian
   Volce. It is so sir, truly I haue forgot you
   Rom. I am a Roman, and my Seruices are as you are,
against 'em. Know you me yet
   Volce. Nicanor: no
   Rom. The same sir
   Volce. You had more Beard when I last saw you, but
your Fauour is well appear'd by your Tongue. What's
the Newes in Rome: I haue a Note from the Volcean
state to finde you out there. You haue well saued mee a
dayes iourney
   Rom. There hath beene in Rome straunge Insurrections:
The people, against the Senatours, Patricians, and
   Vol. Hath bin; is it ended then? Our State thinks not
so, they are in a most warlike preparation, & hope to com
vpon them, in the heate of their diuision
  Rom. The maine blaze of it is past, but a small thing
would make it flame againe. For the Nobles receyue so
to heart, the Banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that
they are in a ripe aptnesse, to take al power from the people,
and to plucke from them their Tribunes for euer.
This lyes glowing I can tell you, and is almost mature for
the violent breaking out
   Vol. Coriolanus Banisht?
  Rom. Banish'd sir
   Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence Nicanor
   Rom. The day serues well for them now. I haue heard
it saide, the fittest time to corrupt a mans Wife, is when
shee's falne out with her Husband. Your Noble Tullus
Auffidius will appeare well in these Warres, his great
Opposer Coriolanus being now in no request of his countrey
   Volce. He cannot choose: I am most fortunate, thus
accidentally to encounter you. You haue ended my Businesse,
and I will merrily accompany you home
   Rom. I shall betweene this and Supper, tell you most
strange things from Rome: all tending to the good of
their Aduersaries. Haue you an Army ready say you?
  Vol. A most Royall one: The Centurions, and their
charges distinctly billetted already in th' entertainment,
and to be on foot at an houres warning
   Rom. I am ioyfull to heare of their readinesse, and am
the man I thinke, that shall set them in present Action. So
sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your Company
   Volce. You take my part from me sir, I haue the most
cause to be glad of yours
   Rom. Well, let vs go together.
Enter Coriolanus in meane Apparrell, disguisd, and muffled.
  Corio. A goodly City is this Antium. Citty,
'Tis I that made thy Widdowes: Many an heyre
Of these faire Edifices fore my Warres
Haue I heard groane, and drop: Then know me not,
Least that thy Wiues with Spits, and Boyes with stones
In puny Battell slay me. Saue you sir.
Enter a Citizen.
  Cit. And you
   Corio. Direct me, if it be your will, where great Auffidius
lies: Is he in Antium?
  Cit. He is, and Feasts the Nobles of the State, at his
house this night
   Corio. Which is his house, beseech you?
  Cit. This heere before you
   Corio. Thanke you sir, farewell.
Exit Citizen
Oh World, thy slippery turnes! Friends now fast sworn,
Whose double bosomes seemes to weare one heart,
Whose Houres, whose Bed, whose Meale and Exercise
Are still together: who Twin (as 'twere) in Loue,
Vnseparable, shall within this houre,
On a dissention of a Doit, breake out
To bitterest Enmity: So fellest Foes,
Whose Passions, and whose Plots haue broke their sleep
To take the one the other, by some chance,
Some tricke not worth an Egge, shall grow deere friends
And inter-ioyne their yssues. So with me,
My Birth-place haue I, and my loues vpon
This Enemie Towne: Ile enter, if he slay me
He does faire Iustice: if he giue me way,
Ile do his Country Seruice.
Musicke playes. Enter a Seruingman.
  1 Ser. Wine, Wine, Wine: What seruice is heere? I
thinke our Fellowes are asleepe.
Enter another Seruingman.
  2 Ser. Where's Cotus: my M[aster]. cals for him: Cotus.
Enter Coriolanus.
  Corio. A goodly House:
The Feast smels well: but I appeare not like a Guest.
Enter the first Seruingman.
  1 Ser. What would you haue Friend? whence are you?
Here's no place for you: pray go to the doore?
  Corio. I haue deseru'd no better entertainment, in being
Enter second Seruant.
  2 Ser. Whence are you sir? Ha's the Porter his eyes in
his head, that he giues entrance to such Companions?
Pray get you out
   Corio. Away
   2 Ser. Away? Get you away
   Corio. Now th'art troublesome
   2 Ser. Are you so braue: Ile haue you talkt with anon
Enter 3 Seruingman, the 1 meets him.
  3 What Fellowes this?
  1 A strange one as euer I look'd on: I cannot get him
out o'thhouse: Prythee call my Master to him
   3 What haue you to do here fellow? Pray you auoid
   Corio. Let me but stand, I will not hurt your Harth
   3 What are you?
  Corio. A Gentleman
   3 A maru'llous poore one
   Corio. True, so I am
   3 Pray you poore Gentleman, take vp some other station:
Heere's no place for you, pray you auoid: Come
   Corio. Follow your Function, go, and batten on colde
Pushes him away from him.
  3 What you will not? Prythee tell my Maister what
a strange Guest he ha's heere
   2 And I shall.
Exit second Seruingman.
  3 Where dwel'st thou?
  Corio. Vnder the Canopy
   3 Vnder the Canopy?
   3 Where's that?
  Corio. I'th City of Kites and crowes
   3 I'th City of Kites and Crowes? What an Asse it is,
then thou dwel'st with Dawes too?
  Corio. No, I serue not thy Master
   3 How sir? Do you meddle with my Master?
  Corio. I, tis an honester seruice, then to meddle with
thy Mistris: Thou prat'st, and prat'st, serue with thy trencher:
Beats him away
Enter Auffidius with the Seruingman.
  Auf. Where is this Fellow?
  2 Here sir, I'de haue beaten him like a dogge, but for
disturbing the Lords within
   Auf. Whence com'st thou? What wouldst y? Thy name?
Why speak'st not? Speake man: What's thy name?
  Corio. If Tullus not yet thou know'st me, and seeing
me, dost not thinke me for the man I am, necessitie commands
me name my selfe
   Auf. What is thy name?
  Corio. A name vnmusicall to the Volcians eares,
And harsh in sound to thine
   Auf. Say, what's thy name?
Thou hast a Grim apparance, and thy Face
Beares a Command in't: Though thy Tackles torne,
Thou shew'st a Noble Vessell: What's thy name?
  Corio. Prepare thy brow to frowne: knowst y me yet?
  Auf. I know thee not? Thy Name:
  Corio. My name is Caius Martius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volces
Great hurt and Mischiefe: thereto witnesse may
My Surname Coriolanus. The painfull Seruice,
The extreme Dangers, and the droppes of Blood
Shed for my thanklesse Country, are requitted:
But with that Surname, a good memorie
And witnesse of the Malice and Displeasure
Which thou should'st beare me, only that name remains.
The Cruelty and Enuy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard Nobles, who
Haue all forsooke me, hath deuour'd the rest:
And suffer'd me by th' voyce of Slaues to be
Hoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity,
Hath brought me to thy Harth, not out of Hope
(Mistake me not) to saue my life: for if
I had fear'd death, of all the Men i'th' World
I would haue voided thee. But in meere spight
To be full quit of those my Banishers,
Stand I before thee heere: Then if thou hast
A heart of wreake in thee, that wilt reuenge
Thine owne particular wrongs, and stop those maimes
Of shame seene through thy Country, speed thee straight
And make my misery serue thy turne: So vse it,
That my reuengefull Seruices may proue
As Benefits to thee. For I will fight
Against my Cankred Countrey, with the Spleene
Of all the vnder Fiends. But if so be,
Thou dar'st not this, and that to proue more Fortunes
Th'art tyr'd, then in a word, I also am
Longer to liue most wearie: and present
My throat to thee, and to thy Ancient Malice:
Which not to cut, would shew thee but a Foole,
Since I haue euer followed thee with hate,
Drawne Tunnes of Blood out of thy Countries brest,
And cannot liue but to thy shame, vnlesse
It be to do thee seruice
   Auf. Oh Martius, Martius;
Each word thou hast spoke, hath weeded from my heart
A roote of Ancient Enuy. If Iupiter
Should from yond clowd speake diuine things,
And say 'tis true; I'de not beleeue them more
Then thee all-Noble Martius. Let me twine
Mine armes about that body, where against
My grained Ash an hundred times hath broke,
And scarr'd the Moone with splinters: heere I cleep
The Anuile of my Sword, and do contest
As hotly, and as Nobly with thy Loue,
As euer in Ambitious strength, I did
Contend against thy Valour. Know thou first,
I lou'd the Maid I married: neuer man
Sigh'd truer breath. But that I see thee heere
Thou Noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,
Then when I first my wedded Mistris saw
Bestride my Threshold. Why, thou Mars I tell thee,
We haue a Power on foote: and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy Target from thy Brawne,
Or loose mine Arme for't: Thou hast beate mee out
Twelue seuerall times, and I haue nightly since
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thy selfe and me:
We haue beene downe together in my sleepe,
Vnbuckling Helmes, fisting each others Throat,
And wak'd halfe dead with nothing. Worthy Martius,
Had we no other quarrell else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence Banish'd, we would muster all
From twelue, to seuentie: and powring Warre
Into the bowels of vngratefull Rome,
Like a bold Flood o're-beate. Oh come, go in,
And take our friendly Senators by'th' hands
Who now are heere, taking their leaues of mee,
Who am prepar'd against your Territories,
Though not for Rome it selfe
   Corio. You blesse me Gods
   Auf. Therefore most absolute Sir, if thou wilt haue
The leading of thine owne Reuenges, take
Th' one halfe of my Commission, and set downe
As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st
Thy Countries strength and weaknesse, thine own waies
Whether to knocke against the Gates of Rome,
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
To fright them, ere destroy. But come in,
Let me commend thee first, to those that shall
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes,
And more a Friend, then ere an Enemie,
Yet Martius that was much. Your hand: most welcome.
Enter two of the Seruingmen.
  1 Heere's a strange alteration?
  2 By my hand, I had thoght to haue stroken him with
a Cudgell, and yet my minde gaue me, his cloathes made
a false report of him
   1 What an Arme he has, he turn'd me about with his
finger and his thumbe, as one would set vp a Top
   2 Nay, I knew by his face that there was some-thing
in him. He had sir, a kinde of face me thought, I cannot
tell how to tearme it
   1 He had so, looking as it were, would I were hang'd
but I thought there was more in him, then I could think
   2 So did I, Ile be sworne: He is simply the rarest man
   1 I thinke he is: but a greater soldier then he,
   2 Who my Master?
  1 Nay, it's no matter for that
   2 Worth six on him
   1 Nay not so neither: but I take him to be the greater
   2 Faith looke you, one cannot tell how to say that: for
the Defence of a Towne, our Generall is excellent
   1 I, and for an assault too.
Enter the third Seruingman.
  3 Oh Slaues, I can tell you Newes, News you Rascals
  Both. What, what, what? Let's partake
   3 I would not be a Roman of all Nations; I had as
liue be a condemn'd man
   Both. Wherefore? Wherefore?
  3 Why here's he that was wont to thwacke our Generall,
Caius Martius
   1 Why do you say, thwacke our Generall?
  3 I do not say thwacke our Generall, but he was alwayes
good enough for him
  2 Come we are fellowes and friends: he was euer too
hard for him, I haue heard him say so himselfe
   1 He was too hard for him directly, to say the Troth
on't before Corioles, he scotcht him, and notcht him like a
   2 And hee had bin Cannibally giuen, hee might haue
boyld and eaten him too
   1 But more of thy Newes
   3 Why he is so made on heere within, as if hee were
Son and Heire to Mars, set at vpper end o'th' Table: No
question askt him by any of the Senators, but they stand
bald before him. Our Generall himselfe makes a Mistris
of him, Sanctifies himselfe with's hand, and turnes vp the
white o'th' eye to his Discourse. But the bottome of the
Newes is, our Generall is cut i'th' middle, & but one halfe
of what he was yesterday. For the other ha's halfe, by
the intreaty and graunt of the whole Table. Hee'l go he
sayes, and sole the Porter of Rome Gates by th' eares. He
will mowe all downe before him, and leaue his passage
   2 And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine
   3 Doo't? he will doo't: for look you sir, he has as many
Friends as Enemies: which Friends sir as it were, durst
not (looke you sir) shew themselues (as we terme it) his
Friends, whilest he's in Directitude
   1 Directitude? What's that?
  3 But when they shall see sir, his Crest vp againe, and
the man in blood, they will out of their Burroughes (like
Conies after Raine) and reuell all with him
   1 But when goes this forward:
  3 To morrow, to day, presently, you shall haue the
Drum strooke vp this afternoone: 'Tis as it were a parcel
of their Feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips
   2 Why then wee shall haue a stirring World againe:
This peace is nothing, but to rust Iron, encrease Taylors,
and breed Ballad-makers
   1 Let me haue Warre say I, it exceeds peace as farre
as day do's night: It's sprightly walking, audible, and full
of Vent. Peace, is a very Apoplexy, Lethargie, mull'd,
deafe, sleepe, insensible, a getter of more bastard Children,
then warres a destroyer of men
   2 'Tis so, and as warres in some sort may be saide to
be a Rauisher, so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great
maker of Cuckolds
   1 I, and it makes men hate one another
   3 Reason, because they then lesse neede one another:
The Warres for my money. I hope to see Romanes as
cheape as Volcians. They are rising, they are rising
   Both. In, in, in, in.
Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus.
  Sicin. We heare not of him, neither need we fear him,
His remedies are tame, the present peace,
And quietnesse of the people, which before
Were in wilde hurry. Heere do we make his Friends
Blush, that the world goes well: who rather had,
Though they themselues did suffer by't, behold
Dissentious numbers pestring streets, then see
Our Tradesmen singing in their shops, and going
About their Functions friendly.
Enter Menenius.
  Bru. We stood too't in good time. Is this Menenius?
  Sicin. 'Tis he, 'tis he: O he is grown most kind of late:
   Mene. Haile to you both
   Sicin. Your Coriolanus is not much mist, but with his
Friends: the Commonwealth doth stand, and so would
do, were he more angry at it
   Mene. All's well, and might haue bene much better,
if he could haue temporiz'd
   Sicin. Where is he, heare you?
  Mene. Nay I heare nothing:
His Mother and his wife, heare nothing from him.
Enter three or foure Citizens.
  All. The Gods preserue you both
   Sicin. Gooden our Neighbours
   Bru. Gooden to you all, gooden to you all
   1 Our selues, our wiues, and children, on our knees,
Are bound to pray for you both
   Sicin. Liue, and thriue
   Bru. Farewell kinde Neighbours:
We wisht Coriolanus had lou'd you as we did
   All. Now the Gods keepe you
   Both Tri. Farewell, farewell.
Exeunt. Citizens
  Sicin. This is a happier and more comely time,
Then when these Fellowes ran about the streets,
Crying Confusion
   Bru. Caius Martius was
A worthy Officer i'th' Warre, but Insolent,
O'recome with Pride, Ambitious, past all thinking
Selfe-louing
   Sicin. And affecting one sole Throne, without assista[n]ce
  Mene. I thinke not so
   Sicin. We should by this, to all our Lamention,
If he had gone forth Consull, found it so
   Bru. The Gods haue well preuented it, and Rome
Sits safe and still, without him.
Enter an aedile.
  Aedile. Worthy Tribunes,
There is a Slaue whom we haue put in prison,
Reports the Volces with two seuerall Powers
Are entred in the Roman Territories,
And with the deepest malice of the Warre,
Destroy, what lies before' em
   Mene. 'Tis Auffidius,
Who hearing of our Martius Banishment,
Thrusts forth his hornes againe into the world
Which were In-shell'd, when Martius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peepe out
   Sicin. Come, what talke you of Martius
   Bru. Go see this Rumorer whipt, it cannot be,
The Volces dare breake with vs
   Mene. Cannot be?
We haue Record, that very well it can,
And three examples of the like, hath beene
Within my Age. But reason with the fellow
Before you punish him, where he heard this,
Least you shall chance to whip your Information,
And beate the Messenger, who bids beware
Of what is to be dreaded
   Sicin. Tell not me: I know this cannot be
   Bru. Not possible.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. The Nobles in great earnestnesse are going
All to the Senate-house: some newes is comming
That turnes their Countenances
   Sicin. 'Tis this Slaue:
Go whip him fore the peoples eyes: His raising,
Nothing but his report
   Mes. Yes worthy Sir,
The Slaues report is seconded, and more
More fearfull is deliuer'd
   Sicin. What more fearefull?
  Mes. It is spoke freely out of many mouths,
How probable I do not know, that Martius
Ioyn'd with Auffidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome,
And vowes Reuenge as spacious, as betweene
The yong'st and oldest thing
   Sicin. This is most likely
   Bru. Rais'd onely, that the weaker sort may wish
Good Martius home againe
   Sicin. The very tricke on't
   Mene. This is vnlikely,
He, and Auffidius can no more attone
Then violent'st Contrariety.
Enter Messenger.
  Mes. You are sent for to the Senate:
A fearefull Army, led by Caius Martius,
Associated with Auffidius, Rages
Vpon our Territories, and haue already
O're-borne their way, consum'd with fire, and tooke
What lay before them.
Enter Cominius.
  Com. Oh you haue made good worke
   Mene. What newes? What newes?
  Com. You haue holp to rauish your owne daughters, &
To melt the Citty Leades vpon your pates,
To see your Wiues dishonour'd to your Noses
   Mene. What's the newes? What's the newes?
  Com. Your Temples burned in their Ciment, and
Your Franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd
Into an Augors boare
   Mene. Pray now, your Newes:
You haue made faire worke I feare me: pray your newes,
If Martius should be ioyn'd with Volceans
   Com. If? He is their God, he leads them like a thing
Made by some other Deity then Nature,
That shapes man Better: and they follow him
Against vs Brats, with no lesse Confidence,
Then Boyes pursuing Summer Butter-flies,
Or Butchers killing Flyes
   Mene. You haue made good worke,
You and your Apron men: you, that stood so much
Vpon the voyce of occupation, and
The breath of Garlicke-eaters
   Com. Hee'l shake your Rome about your eares
   Mene. As Hercules did shake downe Mellow Fruite:
You haue made faire worke
   Brut. But is this true sir?
  Com. I, and you'l looke pale
Before you finde it other. All the Regions
Do smilingly Reuolt, and who resists
Are mock'd for valiant Ignorance,
And perish constant Fooles: who is't can blame him?
Your Enemies and his, finde something in him
   Mene. We are all vndone, vnlesse
The Noble man haue mercy
   Com. Who shall aske it?
The Tribunes cannot doo't for shame; the people
Deserue such pitty of him, as the Wolfe
Doe's of the Shepheards: For his best Friends, if they
Should say be good to Rome, they charg'd him, euen
As those should do that had deseru'd his hate,
And therein shew'd like Enemies
   Me. 'Tis true, if he were putting to my house, the brand
That should consume it, I haue not the face
To say, beseech you cease. You haue made faire hands,
You and your Crafts, you haue crafted faire
   Com. You haue brought
A Trembling vpon Rome, such as was neuer
S' incapeable of helpe
   Tri. Say not, we brought it
   Mene. How? Was't we? We lou'd him,
But like Beasts, and Cowardly Nobles,
Gaue way vnto your Clusters, who did hoote
Him out o'th' Citty
   Com. But I feare
They'l roare him in againe. Tullus Affidius,
The second name of men, obeyes his points
As if he were his Officer: Desperation,
Is all the Policy, Strength, and Defence
That Rome can make against them.
Enter a Troope of Citizens.
  Mene. Heere come the Clusters.
And is Auffidius with him? You are they
That made the Ayre vnwholsome, when you cast
Your stinking, greasie Caps, in hooting
At Coriolanus Exile. Now he's comming,
And not a haire vpon a Souldiers head
Which will not proue a whip: As many Coxcombes
As you threw Caps vp, will he tumble downe,
And pay you for your voyces. 'Tis no matter,
If he could burne vs all into one coale,
We haue deseru'd it
   Omnes. Faith, we heare fearfull Newes
   1 Cit. For mine owne part,
When I said banish him, I said 'twas pitty
   2 And so did I
   3 And so did I: and to say the truth, so did very many
of vs, that we did we did for the best, and though wee
willingly consented to his Banishment, yet it was against
   Com. Y'are goodly things, you Voyces
   Mene. You haue made good worke
You and your cry. Shal's to the Capitoll?
  Com. Oh I, what else?
Exeunt. both.
  Sicin. Go Masters get you home, be not dismaid,
These are a Side, that would be glad to haue
This true, which they so seeme to feare. Go home,
And shew no signe of Feare
   1 Cit. The Gods bee good to vs: Come Masters let's
home, I euer said we were i'th wrong, when we banish'd
   2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home.
  Bru. I do not like this Newes
   Sicin. Nor I
   Bru. Let's to the Capitoll: would halfe my wealth
Would buy this for a lye
   Sicin. Pray let's go.
Exeunt. Tribunes.
Enter Auffidius with his Lieutenant.
  Auf. Do they still flye to'th' Roman?
  Lieu. I do not know what Witchcraft's in him: but
Your Soldiers vse him as the Grace 'fore meate,
Their talke at Table, and their Thankes at end,
And you are darkned in this action Sir,
Euen by your owne
   Auf. I cannot helpe it now,
Vnlesse by vsing meanes I lame the foote
Of our designe. He beares himselfe more proudlier,
Euen to my person, then I thought he would
When first I did embrace him. Yet his Nature
In that's no Changeling, and I must excuse
What cannot be amended
   Lieu. Yet I wish Sir,
(I meane for your particular) you had not
Ioyn'd in Commission with him: but either haue borne
The action of your selfe, or else to him, had left it soly
   Auf. I vnderstand thee well, and be thou sure
When he shall come to his account, he knowes not
What I can vrge against him, although it seemes
And so he thinkes, and is no lesse apparant
To th' vulgar eye, that he beares all things fairely:
And shewes good Husbandry for the Volcian State,
Fights Dragon-like, and does atcheeue as soone
As draw his Sword: yet he hath left vndone
That which shall breake his necke, or hazard mine,
When ere we come to our account
   Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'l carry Rome?
  Auf. All places yeelds to him ere he sits downe,
And the Nobility of Rome are his:
The Senators and Patricians loue him too:
The Tribunes are no Soldiers: and their people
Will be as rash in the repeale, as hasty
To expell him thence. I thinke hee'l be to Rome
As is the Aspray to the Fish, who takes it
By Soueraignty of Nature. First, he was
A Noble seruant to them, but he could not
Carry his Honors eeuen: whether 'twas Pride
Which out of dayly Fortune euer taints
The happy man; whether detect of iudgement,
To faile in the disposing of those chances
Which he was Lord of: or whether Nature,
Not to be other then one thing, not moouing
From th' Caske to th' Cushion: but commanding peace
Euen with the same austerity and garbe,
As he controll'd the warre. But one of these
(As he hath spices of them all) not all,
For I dare so farre free him, made him fear'd,
So hated, and so banish'd: but he ha's a Merit
To choake it in the vtt'rance: So our Vertue,
Lie in th' interpretation of the time,
And power vnto it selfe most commendable,
Hath not a Tombe so euident as a Chaire
T' extoll what it hath done.
One fire driues out one fire; one Naile, one Naile;
Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do faile.
Come let's away: when Caius Rome is thine,
Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, the two Tribunes,
  Menen. No, ile not go: you heare what he hath said
Which was sometime his Generall: who loued him
In a most deere particular. He call'd me Father:
But what o'that? Go you that banish'd him
A Mile before his Tent, fall downe, and knee
The way into his mercy: Nay, if he coy'd
To heare Cominius speake, Ile keepe at home
   Com. He would not seeme to know me
   Menen. Do you heare?
  Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name:
I vrg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops
That we haue bled together. Coriolanus
He would not answer too: Forbad all Names,
He was a kinde of Nothing, Titlelesse,
Till he had forg'd himselfe a name a'th' fire
Of burning Rome
   Menen. Why so: you haue made good worke:
A paire of Tribunes, that haue wrack'd for Rome,
To make Coales cheape: A Noble memory
   Com. I minded him, how Royall 'twas to pardon
When it was lesse expected. He replyed
It was a bare petition of a State
To one whom they had punish'd
   Menen. Very well, could he say lesse
   Com. I offered to awaken his regard
For's priuate Friends. His answer to me was
He could not stay to picke them, in a pile
Of noysome musty Chaffe. He said, 'twas folly
For one poore graine or two, to leaue vnburnt
And still to nose th' offence
   Menen. For one poore graine or two?
I am one of those: his Mother, Wife, his Childe,
And this braue Fellow too: we are the Graines,
You are the musty Chaffe, and you are smelt
Aboue the Moone. We must be burnt for you
   Sicin. Nay, pray be patient: If you refuse your ayde
In this so neuer-needed helpe, yet do not
Vpbraid's with our distresse. But sure if you
Would be your Countries Pleader, your good tongue
More then the instant Armie we can make
Might stop our Countryman
   Mene. No: Ile not meddle
   Sicin. Pray you go to him
   Mene. What should I do?
  Bru. Onely make triall what your Loue can do,
For Rome, towards Martius
   Mene. Well, and say that Martius returne mee,
As Cominius is return'd, vnheard: what then?
But as a discontented Friend, greefe-shot
With his vnkindnesse. Say't be so?
  Sicin. Yet your good will
Must haue that thankes from Rome, after the measure
As you intended well
   Mene. Ile vndertak't:
I thinke hee'l heare me. Yet to bite his lip,
And humme at good Cominius, much vnhearts mee.
He was not taken well, he had not din'd,
The Veines vnfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
We powt vpon the Morning, are vnapt
To giue or to forgiue; but when we haue stufft
These Pipes, and these Conueyances of our blood
With Wine and Feeding, we haue suppler Soules
Then in our Priest-like Fasts: therefore Ile watch him
Till he be dieted to my request,
And then Ile set vpon him
   Bru. You know the very rode into his kindnesse,
And cannot lose your way
   Mene. Good faith Ile proue him,
Speed how it will. I shall ere long, haue knowledge
Of my successe.
  Com. Hee'l neuer heare him
   Sicin. Not
   Com. I tell you, he doe's sit in Gold, his eye
Red as 'twould burne Rome: and his Iniury
The Gaoler to his pitty. I kneel'd before him,
'Twas very faintly he said Rise: dismist me
Thus with his speechlesse hand. What he would do
He sent in writing after me: what he would not,
Bound with an Oath to yeeld to his conditions:
So that all hope is vaine, vnlesse his Noble Mother,
And his Wife, who (as I heare) meane to solicite him
For mercy to his Countrey: therefore let's hence,
And with our faire intreaties hast them on.
Enter Menenius to the Watch or Guard.
  1.Wat. Stay: whence are you
   2.Wat. Stand, and go backe
   Me. You guard like men, 'tis well. But by your leaue,
I am an Officer of State, & come to speak with Coriolanus
  1 From whence?
  Mene. From Rome
   I You may not passe, you must returne: our Generall
will no more heare from thence
   2 You'l see your Rome embrac'd with fire, before
You'l speake with Coriolanus
   Mene. Good my Friends,
If you haue heard your Generall talke of Rome,
And of his Friends there, it is Lots to Blankes,
My name hath touch't your eares: it is Menenius
   1 Be it so, go back: the vertue of your name,
Is not heere passable
   Mene. I tell thee Fellow,
Thy Generall is my Louer: I haue beene
The booke of his good Acts, whence men haue read
His Fame vnparalell'd, happely amplified:
For I haue euer verified my Friends,
(Of whom hee's cheefe) with all the size that verity
Would without lapsing suffer: Nay, sometimes,
Like to a Bowle vpon a subtle ground
I haue tumbled past the throw: and in his praise
Haue (almost) stampt the Leasing. Therefore Fellow,
I must haue leaue to passe
   1 Faith Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalfe,
as you haue vttered words in your owne, you should not
passe heere: no, though it were as vertuous to lye, as to
liue chastly. Therefore go backe
   Men. Prythee fellow, remember my name is Menenius,
alwayes factionary on the party of your Generall
   2 Howsoeuer you haue bin his Lier, as you say you
haue, I am one that telling true vnder him, must say you
cannot passe. Therefore go backe
   Mene. Ha's he din'd can'st thou tell? For I would not
speake with him, till after dinner
   1 You are a Roman, are you?
  Mene. I am as thy Generall is
   1 Then you should hate Rome, as he do's. Can you,
when you haue pusht out your gates, the very Defender
of them, and in a violent popular ignorance, giuen your
enemy your shield, thinke to front his reuenges with the
easie groanes of old women, the Virginall Palms of your
daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decay'd
Dotant as you seeme to be? Can you think to blow
out the intended fire, your City is ready to flame in, with
such weake breath as this? No, you are deceiu'd, therfore
backe to Rome, and prepare for your execution: you are
condemn'd, our Generall has sworne you out of repreeue
   Mene. Sirra, if thy Captaine knew I were heere,
He would vse me with estimation
   1 Come, my Captaine knowes you not
   Mene. I meane thy Generall
   1 My Generall cares not for you. Back I say, go: least
I let forth your halfe pinte of blood. Backe, that's the vtmost
of your hauing, backe
   Mene. Nay but Fellow, Fellow.
Enter Coriolanus with Auffidius.
  Corio. What's the matter?
  Mene. Now you Companion: Ile say an arrant for you:
you shall know now that I am in estimation: you shall
perceiue, that a Iacke gardant cannot office me from my
Son Coriolanus, guesse but my entertainment with him: if
thou stand'st not i'th state of hanging, or of some death
more long in Spectatorship, and crueller in suffering, behold
now presently, and swoond for what's to come vpon
thee. The glorious Gods sit in hourely Synod about thy
particular prosperity, and loue thee no worse then thy old
Father Menenius do's. O my Son, my Son! thou art preparing
fire for vs: looke thee, heere's water to quench it.
I was hardly moued to come to thee: but beeing assured
none but my selfe could moue thee, I haue bene blowne
out of your Gates with sighes: and coniure thee to pardon
Rome, and thy petitionary Countrimen. The good
Gods asswage thy wrath, and turne the dregs of it, vpon
this Varlet heere: This, who like a blocke hath denyed
my accesse to thee
   Corio. Away
   Mene. How? Away?
  Corio. Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My affaires
Are Seruanted to others: Though I owe
My Reuenge properly, my remission lies
In Volcean brests. That we haue beene familiar,
Ingrate forgetfulnesse shall poison rather
Then pitty: Note how much, therefore be gone.
Mine eares against your suites, are stronger then
Your gates against my force. Yet for I loued thee,
Take this along, I writ it for thy sake,
And would haue sent it. Another word Menenius,
I will not heare thee speake. This man Auffidius
Was my belou'd in Rome: yet thou behold'st
   Auffid. You keepe a constant temper.
Manet the Guard and Menenius.
  1 Now sir, is your name Menenius?
  2 'Tis a spell you see of much power:
You know the way home againe
   1 Do you heare how wee are shent for keeping your
greatnesse backe?
  2 What cause do you thinke I haue to swoond?
  Menen. I neither care for th' world, nor your General:
for such things as you. I can scarse thinke ther's any, y'are
so slight. He that hath a will to die by himselfe, feares it
not from another: Let your Generall do his worst. For
you, bee that you are, long; and your misery encrease
with your age. I say to you, as I was said to, Away.
  1 A Noble Fellow I warrant him
   2 The worthy Fellow is our General. He's the Rock,
The Oake not to be winde-shaken.
Enter Coriolanus and Auffidius.
  Corio. We will before the walls of Rome to morrow
Set downe our Hoast. My partner in this Action,
You must report to th' Volcian Lords, how plainly
I haue borne this Businesse
   Auf. Onely their ends you haue respected,
Stopt your eares against the generall suite of Rome:
Neuer admitted a priuat whisper, no not with such frends
That thought them sure of you
   Corio. This last old man,
Whom with a crack'd heart I haue sent to Rome,
Lou'd me, aboue the measure of a Father,
Nay godded me indeed. Their latest refuge
Was to send him: for whose old Loue I haue
(Though I shew'd sowrely to him) once more offer'd
The first Conditions which they did refuse,
And cannot now accept, to grace him onely,
That thought he could do more: A very little
I haue yeelded too. Fresh Embasses, and Suites,
Nor from the State, nor priuate friends heereafter
Will I lend eare to. Ha? what shout is this?
Shout within
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not.
Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, yong Martius, with Attendants.
My wife comes formost, then the honour'd mould
Wherein this Trunke was fram'd, and in her hand
The Grandchilde to her blood. But out affection,
All bond and priuiledge of Nature breake;
Let it be Vertuous to be Obstinate.
What is that Curt'sie worth? Or those Doues eyes,
Which can make Gods forsworne? I melt, and am not
Of stronger earth then others: my Mother bowes,
As if Olympus to a Mole-hill should
In supplication Nod: and my yong Boy
Hath an Aspect of intercession, which
Great Nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volces
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy, Ile neuer
Be such a Gosling to obey instinct; but stand
As if a man were Author of himself, & knew no other kin
  Virgil. My Lord and Husband
   Corio. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome
   Virg. The sorrow that deliuers vs thus chang'd,
Makes you thinke so
   Corio. Like a dull Actor now, I haue forgot my part,
And I am out, euen to a full Disgrace. Best of my Flesh,
Forgiue my Tyranny: but do not say,
For that forgiue our Romanes. O a kisse
Long as my Exile, sweet as my Reuenge!
Now by the iealous Queene of Heauen, that kisse
I carried from thee deare; and my true Lippe
Hath Virgin'd it ere since. You Gods, I pray,
And the most noble Mother of the world
Leaue vnsaluted: Sinke my knee i'th' earth,
Of thy deepe duty, more impression shew
Then that of common Sonnes
   Volum. Oh stand vp blest!
Whil'st with no softer Cushion then the Flint
I kneele before thee, and vnproperly
Shew duty as mistaken, all this while,
Betweene the Childe, and Parent
   Corio. What's this? your knees to me?
To your Corrected Sonne?
Then let the Pibbles on the hungry beach
Fillop the Starres: Then, let the mutinous windes
Strike the proud Cedars 'gainst the fiery Sun:
Murd'ring Impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight worke
   Volum. Thou art my Warriour, I hope to frame thee
Do you know this Lady?
  Corio. The Noble Sister of Publicola;
The Moone of Rome: Chaste as the Isicle
That's curdied by the Frost, from purest Snow,
And hangs on Dians Temple: Deere Valeria
   Volum. This is a poore Epitome of yours,
Which by th' interpretation of full time,
May shew like all your selfe
   Corio. The God of Souldiers:
With the consent of supreame Ioue, informe
Thy thoughts with Noblenesse, that thou mayst proue
To shame vnvulnerable, and sticke i'th Warres
Like a great Sea-marke standing euery flaw,
And sauing those that eye thee
   Volum. Your knee, Sirrah
   Corio. That's my braue Boy
   Volum. Euen he, your wife, this Ladie, and my selfe,
Are Sutors to you
   Corio. I beseech you peace:
Or if you'ld aske, remember this before;
The thing I haue forsworne to graunt, may neuer
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
Dismisse my Soldiers, or capitulate
Againe, with Romes Mechanickes. Tell me not
Wherein I seeme vnnaturall: Desire not t' allay
My Rages and Reuenges, with your colder reasons
   Volum. Oh no more, no more:
You haue said you will not grant vs any thing:
For we haue nothing else to aske, but that
Which you deny already: yet we will aske,
That if you faile in our request, the blame
May hang vpon your hardnesse, therefore heare vs
   Corio. Auffidius, and you Volces marke, for wee'l
Heare nought from Rome in priuate. Your request?
  Volum. Should we be silent & not speak, our Raiment
And state of Bodies would bewray what life
We haue led since thy Exile. Thinke with thy selfe,
How more vnfortunate then all liuing women
Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should
Make our eies flow with ioy, harts dance with comforts,
Constraines them weepe, and shake with feare & sorow,
Making the Mother, wife, and Childe to see,
The Sonne, the Husband, and the Father tearing
His Countries Bowels out; and to poore we
Thine enmities most capitall: Thou barr'st vs
Our prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enioy. For how can we?
Alas! how can we, for our Country pray?
Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory:
Whereto we are bound: Alacke, or we must loose
The Countrie our deere Nurse, or else thy person
Our comfort in the Country. We must finde
An euident Calamity, though we had
Our wish, which side should win. For either thou
Must as a Forraine Recreant be led
With Manacles through our streets, or else
Triumphantly treade on thy Countries ruine,
And beare the Palme, for hauing brauely shed
Thy Wife and Childrens blood: For my selfe, Sonne,
I purpose not to waite on Fortune, till
These warres determine: If I cannot perswade thee,
Rather to shew a Noble grace to both parts,
Then seeke the end of one; thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy Country, then to treade
(Trust too't, thou shalt not) on thy Mothers wombe
That brought thee to this world
   Virg. I, and mine, that brought you forth this boy,
To keepe your name liuing to time
   Boy. A shall not tread on me: Ile run away
Till I am bigger, but then Ile fight
   Corio. Not of a womans tendernesse to be,
Requires nor Childe, nor womans face to see:
I haue sate too long
   Volum. Nay, go not from vs thus:
If it were so, that our request did tend
To saue the Romanes, thereby to destroy
The Volces whom you serue, you might condemne vs
As poysonous of your Honour. No, our suite
Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces
May say, this mercy we haue shew'd: the Romanes,
This we receiu'd, and each in either side
Giue the All-haile to thee, and cry be Blest
For making vp this peace. Thou know'st (great Sonne)
The end of Warres vncertaine: but this certaine,
That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shalt thereby reape, is such a name
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with Curses:
Whose Chronicle thus writ, The man was Noble,
But with his last Attempt, he wip'd it out:
Destroy'd his Country, and his name remaines
To th' insuing Age, abhorr'd. Speake to me Son:
Thou hast affected the fiue straines of Honor,
To imitate the graces of the Gods.
To teare with Thunder the wide Cheekes a'th' Ayre,
And yet to change thy Sulphure with a Boult
That should but riue an Oake. Why do'st not speake?
Think'st thou it Honourable for a Nobleman
Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speake you:
He cares not for your weeping. Speake thou Boy,
Perhaps thy childishnesse will moue him more
Then can our Reasons. There's no man in the world
More bound to's Mother, yet heere he let's me prate
Like one i'th' Stockes. Thou hast neuer in thy life,
Shew'd thy deere Mother any curtesie,
When she (poor Hen) fond of no second brood,
Ha's clock'd thee to the Warres: and safelie home
Loden with Honor. Say my Request's vniust,
And spurne me backe: But, if it be not so
Thou art not honest, and the Gods will plague thee
That thou restrain'st from me the Duty, which
To a Mothers part belongs. He turnes away:
Down Ladies: let vs shame him with him with our knees
To his sur-name Coriolanus longs more pride
Then pitty to our Prayers. Downe: an end,
This is the last. So, we will home to Rome,
And dye among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's,
This Boy that cannot tell what he would haue,
But kneeles, and holds vp hands for fellowship,
Doe's reason our Petition with more strength
Then thou hast to deny't. Come, let vs go:
This Fellow had a Volcean to his Mother:
His Wife is in Corioles, and his Childe
Like him by chance: yet giue vs our dispatch:
I am husht vntill our City be afire, & then Ile speak a litle
Holds her by the hand silent.
  Corio. O Mother, Mother!
What haue you done? Behold, the Heauens do ope,
The Gods looke downe, and this vnnaturall Scene
They laugh at. Oh my Mother, Mother: Oh!
You haue wonne a happy Victory to Rome.
But for your Sonne, beleeue it: Oh beleeue it,
Most dangerously you haue with him preuail'd,
If not most mortall to him. But let it come:
Auffidius, though I cannot make true Warres,
Ile frame conuenient peace. Now good Auffidius,
Were you in my steed, would you haue heard
A Mother lesse? or granted lesse Auffidius?
  Auf. I was mou'd withall
   Corio. I dare be sworne you were:
And sir, it is no little thing to make
Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But (good sir)
What peace you'l make, aduise me: For my part,
Ile not to Rome, Ile backe with you, and pray you
Stand to me in this cause. Oh Mother! Wife!
  Auf. I am glad thou hast set thy mercy, & thy Honor
At difference in thee: Out of that Ile worke
My selfe a former Fortune
   Corio. I by and by; But we will drinke together:
And you shall beare
A better witnesse backe then words, which we
On like conditions, will haue Counter-seal'd.
Come enter with vs: Ladies you deserue
To haue a Temple built you: All the Swords
In Italy, and her Confederate Armes
Could not haue made this peace.
Enter Menenius and Sicinius.
  Mene. See you yon'd Coin a'th Capitol, yon'd corner stone?
  Sicin. Why what of that?
  Mene. If it be possible for you to displace it with your
little finger, there is some hope the Ladies of Rome, especially
his Mother, may preuaile with him. But I say, there
is no hope in't, our throats are sentenc'd, and stay vppon
   Sicin. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the
condition of a man
   Mene. There is differency between a Grub & a Butterfly,
yet your Butterfly was a Grub: this Martius, is
growne from Man to Dragon: He has wings, hee's more
then a creeping thing
   Sicin. He lou'd his Mother deerely
   Mene. So did he mee: and he no more remembers his
Mother now, then an eight yeare old horse. The tartnesse
of his face, sowres ripe Grapes. When he walks, he moues
like an Engine, and the ground shrinkes before his Treading.
He is able to pierce a Corslet with his eye: Talkes
like a knell, and his hum is a Battery. He sits in his State,
as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids bee done, is
finisht with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God but
Eternity, and a Heauen to Throne in
   Sicin. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly
   Mene. I paint him in the Character. Mark what mercy
his Mother shall bring from him: There is no more
mercy in him, then there is milke in a male-Tyger, that
shall our poore City finde: and all this is long of you
   Sicin. The Gods be good vnto vs
   Mene. No, in such a case the Gods will not bee good
vnto vs. When we banish'd him, we respected not them:
and he returning to breake our necks, they respect not vs.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Sir, if you'ld saue your life, flye to your House,
The Plebeians haue got your Fellow Tribune,
And hale him vp and downe; all swearing, if
The Romane Ladies bring not comfort home
They'l giue him death by Inches.
Enter another Messenger.
  Sicin. What's the Newes?
  Mess. Good Newes, good newes, the Ladies haue preuayl'd.
The Volcians are dislodg'd, and Martius gone:
A merrier day did neuer yet greet Rome,
No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins
   Sicin. Friend, art thou certaine this is true?
Is't most certaine
   Mes. As certaine as I know the Sun is fire:
Where haue you lurk'd that you make doubt of it:
Ne're through an Arch so hurried the blowne Tide,
As the recomforted through th' gates. Why harke you:
Trumpets, Hoboyes, Drums beate, altogether.
The Trumpets, Sack-buts, Psalteries, and Fifes,
Tabors, and Symboles, and the showting Romans,
Make the Sunne dance. Hearke you.
A shout within
  Mene. This is good Newes:
I will go meete the Ladies. This Volumnia,
Is worth of Consuls, Senators, Patricians,
A City full: Of Tribunes such as you,
A Sea and Land full: you haue pray'd well to day:
This Morning, for ten thousand of your throates,
I'de not haue giuen a doit. Harke, how they ioy.
Sound still with the Shouts.
  Sicin. First, the Gods blesse you for your tydings:
Next, accept my thankefulnesse
   Mess. Sir, we haue all great cause to giue great thanks
   Sicin. They are neere the City
   Mes. Almost at point to enter
   Sicin. Wee'l meet them, and helpe the ioy.
Enter two Senators, with Ladies, passing ouer the Stage, with other
  Sena. Behold our Patronnesse, the life of Rome:
Call all your Tribes together, praise the Gods,
And make triumphant fires, strew Flowers before them:
Vnshoot the noise that Banish'd Martius;
Repeale him, with the welcome of his Mother:
Cry welcome Ladies, welcome
   All. Welcome Ladies, welcome.
A Flourish with Drummes & Trumpets.
Enter Tullus Auffidius, with Attendants.
  Auf. Go tell the Lords a'th' City, I am heere:
Deliuer them this Paper: hauing read it,
Bid them repayre to th' Market place, where I
Euen in theirs, and in the Commons eares
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse:
The City Ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends t' appeare before the People, hoping
To purge himselfe with words. Dispatch.
Enter 3 or 4 Conspirators of Auffidius Faction.
Most Welcome
   1.Con. How is it with our Generall?
  Auf. Euen so, as with a man by his owne Almes impoyson'd,
and with his Charity slaine
   2.Con. Most Noble Sir, If you do hold the same intent
Wherein you wisht vs parties: Wee'l deliuer you
Of your great danger
   Auf. Sir, I cannot tell,
We must proceed as we do finde the People
   3.Con. The People will remaine vncertaine, whil'st
'Twixt you there's difference: but the fall of either
Makes the Suruiuor heyre of all
   Auf. I know it:
And my pretext to strike at him, admits
A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
Mine Honor for his truth: who being so heighten'd,
He watered his new Plants with dewes of Flattery,
Seducing so my Friends: and to this end,
He bow'd his Nature, neuer knowne before,
But to be rough, vnswayable, and free
   3.Consp. Sir, his stoutnesse
When he did stand for Consull, which he lost
By lacke of stooping
   Auf. That I would haue spoke of:
Being banish'd for't, he came vnto my Harth,
Presented to my knife his Throat: I tooke him,
Made him ioynt-seruant with me: Gaue him way
In all his owne desires: Nay, let him choose
Out of my Files, his proiects, to accomplish
My best and freshest men, seru'd his designements
In mine owne person: holpe to reape the Fame
Which he did end all his; and tooke some pride
To do my selfe this wrong: Till at the last
I seem'd his Follower, not Partner; and
He wadg'd me with his Countenance, as if
I had bin Mercenary
   1.Con. So he did my Lord:
The Army marueyl'd at it, and in the last,
When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd
For no lesse Spoile, then Glory
   Auf. There was it:
For which my sinewes shall be stretcht vpon him,
At a few drops of Womens rhewme, which are
As cheape as Lies; he sold the Blood and Labour
Of our great Action; therefore shall he dye,
And Ile renew me in his fall. But hearke.
Drummes and Trumpets sounds, with great showts of the people.
  1.Con. Your Natiue Towne you enter'd like a Poste,
And had no welcomes home, but he returnes
Splitting the Ayre with noyse
   2.Con. And patient Fooles,
Whose children he hath slaine, their base throats teare
With giuing him glory
   3.Con. Therefore at your vantage,
Ere he expresse himselfe, or moue the people
With what he would say, let him feele your Sword:
Which we will second, when he lies along
After your way. His Tale pronounc'd, shall bury
His Reasons, with his Body
   Auf. Say no more. Heere come the Lords,
Enter the Lords of the City.
  All Lords. You are most welcome home
   Auff. I haue not deseru'd it.
But worthy Lords, haue you with heede perused
What I haue written to you?
  All. We haue
   1.Lord. And greeue to heare't:
What faults he made before the last, I thinke
Might haue found easie Fines: But there to end
Where he was to begin, and giue away
The benefit of our Leuies, answering vs
With our owne charge: making a Treatie, where
There was a yeelding; this admits no excuse
   Auf. He approaches, you shall heare him.
Enter Coriolanus marching with Drumme, and Colours. The
Commoners being
  Corio. Haile Lords, I am return'd your Souldier:
No more infected with my Countries loue
Then when I parted hence: but still subsisting
Vnder your great Command. You are to know,
That prosperously I haue attempted, and
With bloody passage led your Warres, euen to
The gates of Rome: Our spoiles we haue brought home
Doth more then counterpoize a full third part
The charges of the Action. We haue made peace
With no lesse Honor to the Antiates
Then shame to th' Romaines. And we heere deliuer
Subscrib'd by'th' Consuls, and Patricians,
Together with the Seale a'th Senat, what
We haue compounded on
   Auf. Read it not Noble Lords,
But tell the Traitor in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your Powers
   Corio. Traitor? How now?
  Auf. I Traitor, Martius
   Corio. Martius?
  Auf. I Martius, Caius Martius: Do'st thou thinke
Ile grace thee with that Robbery, thy stolne name
Coriolanus in Corioles?
You Lords and Heads a'th' State, perfidiously
He ha's betray'd your businesse, and giuen vp
For certaine drops of Salt, your City Rome:
I say your City to his Wife and Mother,
Breaking his Oath and Resolution, like
A twist of rotten Silke, neuer admitting
Counsaile a'th' warre: But at his Nurses teares
He whin'd and roar'd away your Victory,
That Pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wond'ring each at others
   Corio. Hear'st thou Mars?
  Auf. Name not the God, thou boy of Teares
   Corio. Ha?
  Aufid. No more
   Corio. Measurelesse Lyar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what containes it. Boy? Oh Slaue,
Pardon me Lords, 'tis the first time that euer
I was forc'd to scoul'd. Your iudgments my graue Lords
Must giue this Curre the Lye: and his owne Notion,
Who weares my stripes imprest vpon him, that
Must beare my beating to his Graue, shall ioyne
To thrust the Lye vnto him
   1 Lord. Peace both, and heare me speake
   Corio. Cut me to peeces Volces men and Lads,
Staine all your edges on me. Boy, false Hound:
If you haue writ your Annales true, 'tis there,
That like an Eagle in a Doue-coat, I
Flatter'd your Volcians in Corioles.
Alone I did it, Boy
   Auf. Why Noble Lords,
Will you be put in minde of his blinde Fortune,
Which was your shame, by this vnholy Braggart?
'Fore your owne eyes, and eares?
  All Consp. Let him dye for't
   All People. Teare him to peeces, do it presently:
He kill'd my Sonne, my daughter, he kill'd my Cosine
Marcus, he kill'd my Father
   2 Lord. Peace hoe: no outrage, peace:
The man is Noble, and his Fame folds in
This Orbe o'th' earth: His last offences to vs
Shall haue Iudicious hearing. Stand Auffidius,
And trouble not the peace
   Corio. O that I had him, with six Auffidiusses, or more:
His Tribe, to vse my lawfull Sword
   Auf. Insolent Villaine
   All Consp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.
Draw both the Conspirators, and kils Martius, who falles,
Auffidius stands
   Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold
   Auf. My Noble Masters, heare me speake
   1.Lord. O Tullus
   2.Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat
Valour will weepe
   3.Lord. Tread not vpon him Masters, all be quiet,
Put vp your Swords
   Auf. My Lords,
When you shall know (as in this Rage
Prouok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this mans life did owe you, you'l reioyce
That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours
To call me to your Senate, Ile deliuer
My selfe your loyall Seruant, or endure
Your heauiest Censure
   1.Lord. Beare from hence his body,
And mourne you for him. Let him be regarded
As the most Noble Coarse, that euer Herald
Did follow to his Vrne
   2.Lord. His owne impatience,
Takes from Auffidius a great part of blame:
Let's make the Best of it
   Auf. My Rage is gone,
And I am strucke with sorrow. Take him vp:
Helpe three a'th' cheefest Souldiers, Ile be one.
Beate thou the Drumme that it speake mournfully:
Traile your steele Pikes. Though in this City hee
Hath widdowed and vnchilded many a one,
Which to this houre bewaile the Iniury,
Yet he shall haue a Noble Memory. Assist.
Exeunt. bearing the Body of Martius. A dead March Sounded.
FINIS. The Tragedy of Coriolanus.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Life of Timon
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Life of
Timon of Athens.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Life of Timon of Athens
Enter Poet, Painter, Ieweller, Merchant, and Mercer, at seuerall
  Poet. Good day Sir
   Pain. I am glad y'are well
   Poet. I haue not seene you long, how goes
  Pain. It weares sir, as it growes
   Poet. I that's well knowne:
But what particular Rarity? What strange,
Which manifold record not matches: see
Magicke of Bounty, all these spirits thy power
Hath coniur'd to attend.
I know the Merchant
   Pain. I know them both: th' others a Ieweller
   Mer. O 'tis a worthy Lord
   Iew. Nay that's most fixt
   Mer. A most incomparable man, breath'd as it were,
To an vntyreable and continuate goodnesse:
   Iew. I haue a Iewell heere
   Mer. O pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir?
  Iewel. If he will touch the estimate. But for that-
  Poet. When we for recompence haue prais'd the vild,
It staines the glory in that happy Verse,
Which aptly sings the good
   Mer. 'Tis a good forme
   Iewel. And rich: heere is a Water looke ye
   Pain. You are rapt sir, in some worke, some Dedication
to the great Lord
   Poet. A thing slipt idlely from me.
Our Poesie is as a Gowne, which vses
From whence 'tis nourisht: the fire i'th' Flint
Shewes not, till it be strooke: our gentle flame
Prouokes it selfe, and like the currant flyes
Each bound it chases. What haue you there?
  Pain. A Picture sir: when comes your Booke forth?
  Poet. Vpon the heeles of my presentment sir.
Let's see your peece
   Pain. 'Tis a good Peece
   Poet. So 'tis, this comes off well, and excellent
   Pain. Indifferent
   Poet. Admirable: How this grace
Speakes his owne standing: what a mentall power
This eye shootes forth? How bigge imagination
Moues in this Lip, to th' dumbnesse of the gesture,
One might interpret
   Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life:
Heere is a touch: Is't good?
  Poet. I will say of it,
It Tutors Nature, Artificiall strife
Liues in these toutches, liuelier then life.
Enter certaine Senators.
  Pain. How this Lord is followed
   Poet. The Senators of Athens, happy men
   Pain. Looke moe
   Po. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors,
I haue in this rough worke, shap'd out a man
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hugge
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moues it selfe
In a wide Sea of wax, no leuell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold,
But flies an Eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leauing no Tract behinde
   Pain. How shall I vnderstand you?
  Poet. I will vnboult to you.
You see how all Conditions, how all Mindes,
As well of glib and slipp'ry Creatures, as
Of Graue and austere qualitie, tender downe
Their seruices to Lord Timon: his large Fortune,
Vpon his good and gracious Nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his loue and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glasse-fac'd Flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loues better
Then to abhorre himselfe; euen hee drops downe
The knee before him, and returnes in peace
Most rich in Timons nod
   Pain. I saw them speake together
   Poet. Sir, I haue vpon a high and pleasant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd.
The Base o'th' Mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinde of Natures
That labour on the bosome of this Sphere,
To propagate their states; among'st them all,
Whose eyes are on this Soueraigne Lady fixt,
One do I personate of Lord Timons frame,
Whom Fortune with her Iuory hand wafts to her,
Whose present grace, to present slaues and seruants
Translates his Riuals
   Pain. 'Tis conceyu'd, to scope
This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkes
With one man becken'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the sleepy Mount
To climbe his happinesse, would be well exprest
In our Condition
   Poet. Nay Sir, but heare me on:
All those which were his Fellowes but of late,
Some better then his valew; on the moment
Follow his strides, his Lobbies fill with tendance,
Raine Sacrificiall whisperings in his eare,
Make Sacred euen his styrrop, and through him
Drinke the free Ayre
   Pain. I marry, what of these?
  Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
Spurnes downe her late beloued; all his Dependants
Which labour'd after him to the Mountaines top,
Euen on their knees and hand, let him sit downe,
Not one accompanying his declining foot
   Pain. Tis common:
A thousand morall Paintings I can shew,
That shall demonstrate these quicke blowes of Fortunes,
More pregnantly then words. Yet you do well,
To shew Lord Timon, that meane eyes haue seene
The foot aboue the head.
Trumpets sound.
Enter Lord Timon, addressing himselfe curteously to euery Sutor.
  Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you?
  Mes. I my good Lord, fiue Talents is his debt,
His meanes most short, his Creditors most straite:
Your Honourable Letter he desires
To those haue shut him vp, which failing,
Periods his comfort
   Tim. Noble Ventidius, well:
I am not of that Feather, to shake off
My Friend when he must neede me. I do know him
A Gentleman, that well deserues a helpe,
Which he shall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him
   Mes. Your Lordship euer bindes him
   Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransome,
And being enfranchized bid him come to me;
'Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble vp,
But to support him after. Fare you well
   Mes. All happinesse to your Honor.
Enter an old Athenian.
  Oldm. Lord Timon, heare me speake
   Tim. Freely good Father
   Oldm. Thou hast a Seruant nam'd Lucilius
   Tim. I haue so: What of him?
  Oldm. Most Noble Timon, call the man before thee
   Tim. Attends he heere, or no? Lucillius
   Luc. Heere at your Lordships seruice
   Oldm. This Fellow heere, L[ord]. Timon, this thy Creature,
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first haue beene inclin'd to thrift,
And my estate deserues an Heyre more rais'd,
Then one which holds a Trencher
   Tim. Well: what further?
  Old. One onely Daughter haue I, no Kin else,
On whom I may conferre what I haue got:
The Maid is faire, a'th' youngest for a Bride,
And I haue bred her at my deerest cost
In Qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her loue: I prythee (Noble Lord)
Ioyne with me to forbid him her resort,
My selfe haue spoke in vaine
   Tim. The man is honest
   Oldm. Therefore he will be Timon,
His honesty rewards him in it selfe,
It must not beare my Daughter
   Tim. Does she loue him?
  Oldm. She is yong and apt:
Our owne precedent passions do instruct vs
What leuities in youth
   Tim. Loue you the Maid?
  Luc. I my good Lord, and she accepts of it
   Oldm. If in her Marriage my consent be missing,
I call the Gods to witnesse, I will choose
Mine heyre from forth the Beggers of the world,
And dispossesse her all
   Tim. How shall she be endowed,
If she be mated with an equall Husband?
  Oldm. Three Talents on the present; in future, all
   Tim. This Gentleman of mine
Hath seru'd me long:
To build his Fortune, I will straine a little,
For 'tis a Bond in men. Giue him thy Daughter,
What you bestow, in him Ile counterpoize,
And make him weigh with her
   Oldm. Most Noble Lord,
Pawne me to this your Honour, she is his
   Tim. My hand to thee,
Mine Honour on my promise
   Luc. Humbly I thanke your Lordship, neuer may
That state or Fortune fall into my keeping,
Which is not owed to you.
  Poet. Vouchsafe my Labour,
And long liue your Lordship
   Tim. I thanke you, you shall heare from me anon:
Go not away. What haue you there, my Friend?
  Pain. A peece of Painting, which I do beseech
Your Lordship to accept
   Tim. Painting is welcome.
The Painting is almost the Naturall man:
For since Dishonor Traffickes with mans Nature,
He is but out-side: These Pensil'd Figures are
Euen such as they giue out. I like your worke,
And you shall finde I like it; Waite attendance
Till you heare further from me
   Pain. The Gods preserue ye
   Tim. Well fare you Gentleman: giue me your hand.
We must needs dine together: sir your Iewell
Hath suffered vnder praise
   Iewel. What my Lord, dispraise?
  Tim. A meere saciety of Commendations,
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extold,
It would vnclew me quite
   Iewel. My Lord, 'tis rated
As those which sell would giue: but you well know,
Things of like valew differing in the Owners,
Are prized by their Masters. Beleeu't deere Lord,
You mend the Iewell by the wearing it
   Tim. Well mock'd.
Enter Apermantus.
  Mer. No my good Lord, he speakes y common toong
Which all men speake with him
   Tim. Looke who comes heere, will you be chid?
  Iewel. Wee'l beare with your Lordship
   Mer. Hee'l spare none
   Tim. Good morrow to thee,
Gentle Apermantus
   Ape. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow.
When thou art Timons dogge, and these Knaues honest
   Tim. Why dost thou call them Knaues, thou know'st
  Ape. Are they not Athenians?
   Ape. Then I repent not
   Iew. You know me, Apemantus?
  Ape. Thou know'st I do, I call'd thee by thy name
   Tim. Thou art proud Apemantus?
  Ape. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon
  Tim. Whether art going?
  Ape. To knocke out an honest Athenians braines
   Tim. That's a deed thou't dye for
   Ape. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' Law
   Tim. How lik'st thou this picture Apemantus?
  Ape. The best, for the innocence
   Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it
   Ape. He wrought better that made the Painter, and
yet he's but a filthy peece of worke
   Pain. Y'are a Dogge
   Ape. Thy Mothers of my generation: what's she, if I
  Tim. Wilt dine with me Apemantus?
  Ape. No: I eate not Lords
   Tim. And thou should'st, thoud'st anger Ladies
   Ape. O they eate Lords;
So they come by great bellies
   Tim. That's a lasciuious apprehension
   Ape. So, thou apprehend'st it,
Take it for thy labour
   Tim. How dost thou like this Iewell, Apemantus?
  Ape. Not so well as plain-dealing, which wil not cast
a man a Doit
   Tim. What dost thou thinke 'tis worth?
  Ape. Not worth my thinking.
How now Poet?
  Poet. How now Philosopher?
  Ape. Thou lyest
   Poet. Art not one?
   Poet. Then I lye not
   Ape. Art not a Poet?
   Ape. Then thou lyest:
Looke in thy last worke, where thou hast feign'd him a
worthy Fellow
   Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so
   Ape. Yes he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy
labour. He that loues to be flattered, is worthy o'th flatterer.
Heauens, that I were a Lord
   Tim. What wouldst do then Apemantus?
  Ape. E'ne as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with
   Tim. What thy selfe?
   Tim. Wherefore?
  Ape. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord.
Art not thou a Merchant?
  Mer. I Apemantus
   Ape. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not
   Mer. If Trafficke do it, the Gods do it
   Ape. Traffickes thy God, & thy God confound thee.
Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.
  Tim. What Trumpets that?
  Mes. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty Horse
All of Companionship
   Tim. Pray entertaine them, giue them guide to vs.
You must needs dine with me: go not you hence
Till I haue thankt you: when dinners done
Shew me this peece, I am ioyfull of your sights.
Enter Alcibiades with the rest.
Most welcome Sir
   Ape. So, so; their Aches contract, and sterue your
supple ioynts: that there should bee small loue amongest
these sweet Knaues, and all this Curtesie. The straine of
mans bred out into Baboon and Monkey
   Alc. Sir, you haue sau'd my longing, and I feed
Most hungerly on your sight
   Tim. Right welcome Sir:
Ere we depart, wee'l share a bounteous time
In different pleasures.
Pray you let vs in.
Enter two Lords.
  1.Lord What time a day is't Apemantus?
  Ape. Time to be honest
   1 That time serues still
   Ape. The most accursed thou that still omitst it
   2 Thou art going to Lord Timons Feast
   Ape. I, to see meate fill Knaues, and Wine heat fooles
   2 Farthee well, farthee well
   Ape. Thou art a Foole to bid me farewell twice
   2 Why Apemantus?
  Ape. Should'st haue kept one to thy selfe, for I meane
to giue thee none
   1 Hang thy selfe
   Ape. No I will do nothing at thy bidding:
Make thy requests to thy Friend
   2 Away vnpeaceable Dogge,
Or Ile spurne thee hence
   Ape. I will flye like a dogge, the heeles a'th' Asse
   1 Hee's opposite to humanity.
Come shall we in,
And taste Lord Timons bountie: he out-goes
The verie heart of kindnesse
   2 He powres it out: Plutus the God of Gold
Is but his Steward: no meede but he repayes
Seuen-fold aboue it selfe: No guift to him,
But breeds the giuer a returne: exceeding
All vse of quittance
   1 The Noblest minde he carries,
That euer gouern'd man
   2 Long may he liue in Fortunes. Shall we in?
Ile keepe you Company.
Hoboyes Playing lowd Musicke. A great Banquet seru'd in: and
Lord Timon, the States, the Athenian Lords, Ventigius which
Timon redeem'd
from prison. Then comes dropping after all Apemantus
discontentedly like
  Ventig. Most honoured Timon,
It hath pleas'd the Gods to remember my Fathers age,
And call him to long peace:
He is gone happy, and has left me rich:
Then, as in gratefull Vertue I am bound
To your free heart, I do returne those Talents
Doubled with thankes and seruice, from whose helpe
I deriu'd libertie
   Tim. O by no meanes,
Honest Ventigius: You mistake my loue,
I gaue it freely euer, and ther's none
Can truely say he giues, if he receiues:
If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
To imitate them: faults that are rich are faire
   Vint. A Noble spirit
   Tim. Nay my Lords, Ceremony was but deuis'd at first
To set a glosse on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodnesse, sorry ere 'tis showne:
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
Pray sit, more welcome are ye to my Fortunes,
Then my Fortunes to me
   1.Lord. My Lord, we alwaies haue confest it
   Aper. Ho ho, confest it? Handg'd it? Haue you not?
  Timo. O Apermantus, you are welcome
   Aper. No: You shall not make me welcome:
I come to haue thee thrust me out of doores
   Tim. Fie, th'art a churle, ye'haue got a humour there
Does not become a man, 'tis much too blame:
They say my Lords, Ira furor breuis est,
But yond man is verie angrie.
Go, let him haue a Table by himselfe:
For he does neither affect companie,
Nor is he fit for't indeed
   Aper. Let me stay at thine apperill Timon,
I come to obserue, I giue thee warning on't
   Tim. I take no heede of thee: Th'art an Athenian,
therefore welcome: I my selfe would haue no power,
prythee let my meate make thee silent
   Aper. I scorne thy meate, 'twould choake me: for I
should nere flatter thee. Oh you Gods! What a number
of men eats Timon, and he sees 'em not? It greeues me
to see so many dip there meate in one mans blood, and
all the madnesse is, he cheeres them vp too.
I wonder men dare trust themselues with men.
Me thinks they should enuite them without kniues,
Good for there meate, and safer for their liues.
There's much example for't, the fellow that sits next him,
now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in
a diuided draught: is the readiest man to kill him. 'Tas
beene proued, if I were a huge man I should feare to
drinke at meales, least they should spie my wind-pipes
dangerous noates, great men should drinke with harnesse
on their throates
   Tim. My Lord in heart: and let the health go round
   2.Lord. Let it flow this way my good Lord
   Aper. Flow this way? A braue fellow. He keepes his
tides well, those healths will make thee and thy state
looke ill, Timon.
Heere's that which is too weake to be a sinner,
Honest water, which nere left man i'th' mire:
This and my food are equals, there's no ods,
Feasts are to proud to giue thanks to the Gods.
Apermantus Grace.
Immortall Gods, I craue no pelfe,
I pray for no man but my selfe,
Graunt I may neuer proue so fond,
To trust man on his Oath or Bond.
Or a Harlot for her weeping,
Or a Dogge that seemes asleeping,
Or a keeper with my freedome,
Or my friends if I should need 'em.
Amen. So fall too't:
Richmen sin, and I eat root.
Much good dich thy good heart, Apermantus
  Tim. Captaine,
Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now
   Alci. My heart is euer at your seruice, my Lord
   Tim. You had rather be at a breakefast of Enemies,
then a dinner of Friends
   Alc. So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's no
meat like 'em, I could wish my best friend at such a Feast
   Aper. Would all those Flatterers were thine Enemies
then, that then thou might'st kill 'em: & bid me to 'em
   1.Lord. Might we but haue that happinesse my Lord,
that you would once vse our hearts, whereby we might
expresse some part of our zeales, we should thinke our
selues for euer perfect
   Timon. Oh no doubt my good Friends, but the Gods
themselues haue prouided that I shall haue much helpe
from you: how had you beene my Friends else. Why
haue you that charitable title from thousands? Did not
you chiefely belong to my heart? I haue told more of
you to my selfe, then you can with modestie speake in
your owne behalfe. And thus farre I confirme you. Oh
you Gods (thinke I,) what need we haue any Friends; if
we should nere haue need of 'em? They were the most
needlesse Creatures liuing; should we nere haue vse for
'em? And would most resemble sweete Instruments
hung vp in Cases, that keepes there sounds to themselues.
Why I haue often wisht my selfe poorer, that
I might come neerer to you: we are borne to do benefits.
And what better or properer can we call our owne,
then the riches of our Friends? Oh what a pretious comfort
'tis, to haue so many like Brothers commanding
one anothers Fortunes. Oh ioyes, e'ne made away er't
can be borne: mine eies cannot hold out water me thinks
to forget their Faults. I drinke to you
   Aper. Thou weep'st to make them drinke, Timon
   2.Lord. Ioy had the like conception in our eies,
And at that instant, like a babe sprung vp
   Aper. Ho, ho: I laugh to thinke that babe a bastard
   3.Lord. I promise you my Lord you mou'd me much
   Aper. Much.
Sound Tucket. Enter the Maskers of Amazons, with Lutes in their
dauncing and playing.
  Tim. What meanes that Trumpe? How now?
Enter Seruant.
  Ser. Please you my Lord, there are certaine Ladies
Most desirous of admittance
   Tim. Ladies? what are their wils?
  Ser. There comes with them a fore-runner my Lord,
which beares that office, to signifie their pleasures
   Tim. I pray let them be admitted.
Enter Cupid with the Maske of Ladies.
  Cup. Haile to thee worthy Timon and to all that of
his Bounties taste: the fiue best Sences acknowledge thee
their Patron, and come freely to gratulate thy plentious
There tast, touch all, pleas'd from thy Table rise:
They onely now come but to Feast thine eies
   Timo. They'r welcome all, let 'em haue kind admittance.
Musicke make their welcome
   Luc. You see my Lord, how ample y'are belou'd
   Aper. Hoyday,
What a sweepe of vanitie comes this way.
They daunce? They are madwomen,
Like Madnesse is the glory of this life,
As this pompe shewes to a little oyle and roote.
We make our selues Fooles, to disport our selues,
And spend our Flatteries, to drinke those men,
Vpon whose Age we voyde it vp agen
With poysonous Spight and Enuy.
Who liues, that's not depraued, or depraues;
Who dyes, that beares not one spurne to their graues
Of their Friends guift:
I should feare, those that dance before me now,
Would one day stampe vpon me: 'Tas bene done,
Men shut their doores against a setting Sunne.
The Lords rise from Table, with much adoring of Timon, and to
loues, each single out an Amazon, and all Dance, men with
women, a loftie
straine or two to the Hoboyes, and cease.
  Tim. You haue done our pleasures
Much grace (faire Ladies)
Set a faire fashion on our entertainment,
Which was not halfe so beautifull, and kinde:
You haue added worth vntoo't, and luster,
And entertain'd me with mine owne deuice.
I am to thanke you for't
   1 Lord. My Lord you take vs euen at the best
   Aper. Faith for the worst is filthy, and would not hold
taking, I doubt me
   Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you,
Please you to dispose your selues
   All La. Most thankfully, my Lord.
  Tim. Flauius
   Fla. My Lord
   Tim. The little Casket bring me hither
   Fla. Yes, my Lord. More Iewels yet?
There is no crossing him in's humor,
Else I should tell him well, yfaith I should;
When all's spent, hee'ld be crost then, and he could:
'Tis pitty Bounty had not eyes behinde,
That man might ne're be wretched for his minde.
  1 Lord. Where be our men?
  Ser. Heere my Lord, in readinesse
   2 Lord. Our Horses
   Tim. O my Friends:
I haue one word to say to you: Looke you, my good L[ord].
I must intreat you honour me so much,
As to aduance this Iewell, accept it, and weare it,
Kinde my Lord
   1 Lord. I am so farre already in your guifts
   All. So are we all.
Enter a Seruant.
  Ser. My Lord, there are certaine Nobles of the Senate
newly alighted, and come to visit you
   Tim. They are fairely welcome.
Enter Flauius.
  Fla. I beseech your Honor, vouchsafe me a word, it
does concerne you neere
   Tim. Neere? why then another time Ile heare thee.
I prythee let's be prouided to shew them entertainment
   Fla. I scarse know how.
Enter another Seruant.
  Ser. May it please your Honor, Lord Lucius
(Out of his free loue) hath presented to you
Foure Milke-white Horses, trapt in Siluer
   Tim. I shall accept them fairely: let the Presents
Be worthily entertain'd.
Enter a third Seruant.
How now? What newes?
  3.Ser. Please you my Lord, that honourable Gentleman
Lord Lucullus, entreats your companie to morrow,
to hunt with him, and ha's sent your Honour two brace
of Grey-hounds
   Tim. Ile hunt with him,
And let them be receiu'd, not without faire Reward
   Fla. What will this come to?
He commands vs to prouide, and giue great guifts, and
all out of an empty Coffer:
Nor will he know his Purse, or yeeld me this,
To shew him what a Begger his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wishes good.
His promises flye so beyond his state,
That what he speaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word:
He is so kinde, that he now payes interest for't;
His Land's put to their Bookes. Well, would I were
Gently put out of Office, before I were forc'd out:
Happier is he that has no friend to feede,
Then such that do e'ne Enemies exceede.
I bleed inwardly for my Lord.
  Tim. You do your selues much wrong,
You bate too much of your owne merits.
Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue
   2.Lord. With more then common thankes
I will receyue it
   3.Lord. O he's the very soule of Bounty
   Tim. And now I remember my Lord, you gaue good
words the other day of a Bay Courser I rod on. Tis yours
because you lik'd it
   1.L. Oh, I beseech you pardon mee, my Lord, in that
   Tim. You may take my word my Lord: I know no
man can iustly praise, but what he does affect. I weighe
my Friends affection with mine owne: Ile tell you true,
Ile call to you
   All Lor. O none so welcome
   Tim. I take all, and your seuerall visitations
So kinde to heart, 'tis not enough to giue:
Me thinkes, I could deale Kingdomes to my Friends,
And nere be wearie. Alcibiades,
Thou art a Soldiour, therefore sildome rich,
It comes in Charitie to thee: for all thy liuing
Is mong'st the dead: and all the Lands thou hast
Lye in a pitcht field
   Alc. I, defil'd Land, my Lord
   1.Lord. We are so vertuously bound
   Tim. And so am I to you
   2.Lord. So infinitely endeer'd
   Tim. All to you. Lights, more Lights
   1.Lord. The best of Happines, Honor, and Fortunes
Keepe with you Lord Timon
   Tim. Ready for his Friends.
Exeunt. Lords
  Aper. What a coiles heere, seruing of beckes, and iutting
out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legges be
worth the summes that are giuen for 'em.
Friendships full of dregges,
Me thinkes false hearts, should neuer haue sound legges.
Thus honest Fooles lay out their wealth on Curtsies
   Tim. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not sullen)
I would be good to thee
   Aper. No, Ile nothing; for if I should be brib'd too,
there would be none left to raile vpon thee, and then thou
wouldst sinne the faster. Thou giu'st so long Timon (I
feare me) thou wilt giue away thy selfe in paper shortly.
What needs these Feasts, pompes, and Vaine-glories?
  Tim. Nay, and you begin to raile on Societie once, I
am sworne not to giue regard to you. Farewell, & come
with better Musicke.
  Aper. So: Thou wilt not heare mee now, thou shalt
not then. Ile locke thy heauen from thee:
Oh that mens eares should be
To Counsell deafe, but not to Flatterie.
Enter a Senator.
  Sen. And late fiue thousand: to Varro and to Isidore
He owes nine thousand, besides my former summe,
Which makes it fiue and twenty. Still in motion
Of raging waste? It cannot hold, it will not.
If I want Gold, steale but a beggers Dogge,
And giue it Timon, why the Dogge coines Gold.
If I would sell my Horse, and buy twenty moe
Better then he; why giue my Horse to Timon.
Aske nothing, giue it him, it Foles me straight
And able Horses: No Porter at his gate,
But rather one that smiles, and still inuites
All that passe by. It cannot hold, no reason
Can sound his state in safety. Caphis hoa,
Caphis I say.
Enter Caphis.
  Ca. Heere sir, what is your pleasure
   Sen. Get on your cloake, & hast you to Lord Timon,
Importune him for my Moneyes, be not ceast
With slight deniall; nor then silenc'd, when
Commend me to your Master, and the Cap
Playes in the right hand, thus: but tell him,
My Vses cry to me; I must serue my turne
Out of mine owne, his dayes and times are past,
And my reliances on his fracted dates
Haue smit my credit. I loue, and honour him,
But must not breake my backe, to heale his finger.
Immediate are my needs, and my releefe
Must not be tost and turn'd to me in words,
But finde supply immediate. Get you gone,
Put on a most importunate aspect,
A visage of demand: for I do feare
When euery Feather stickes in his owne wing,
Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,
Which flashes now a Phoenix, get you gone
   Ca. I go sir
   Sen. I go sir?
Take the Bonds along with you,
And haue the dates in. Come
   Ca. I will Sir
Enter Steward, with many billes in his hand.
  Stew. No care, no stop, so senselesse of expence,
That he will neither know how to maintaine it,
Nor cease his flow of Riot. Takes no accompt
How things go from him, nor resume no care
Of what is to continue: neuer minde,
Was to be so vnwise, to be so kinde.
What shall be done, he will not heare, till feele:
I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting.
Fye, fie, fie, fie.
Enter Caphis, Isidore, and Varro.
  Cap. Good euen Varro: what, you come for money?
  Var. Is't not your businesse too?
  Cap. It is, and yours too, Isidore?
  Isid. It is so
   Cap. Would we were all discharg'd
   Var. I feare it,
  Cap. Heere comes the Lord.
Enter Timon, and his Traine
   Tim. So soone as dinners done, wee'l forth againe
My Alcibiades. With me, what is your will?
  Cap. My Lord, heere is a note of certaine dues
   Tim. Dues? whence are you?
  Cap. Of Athens heere, my Lord
   Tim. Go to my Steward
   Cap. Please it your Lordship, he hath put me off
To the succession of new dayes this moneth:
My Master is awak'd by great Occasion,
To call vpon his owne, and humbly prayes you,
That with your other Noble parts, you'l suite,
In giuing him his right
   Tim. Mine honest Friend,
I prythee but repaire to me next morning
   Cap. Nay, good my Lord
   Tim. Containe thy selfe, good Friend
   Var. One Varroes seruant, my good Lord
   Isid. From Isidore, he humbly prayes your speedy payment
   Cap. If you did know my Lord, my Masters wants
   Var. 'Twas due on forfeyture my Lord, sixe weekes,
   Isi. Your Steward puts me off my Lord, and I
Am sent expressely to your Lordship
   Tim. Giue me breath:
I do beseech you good my Lords keepe on,
Ile waite vpon you instantly. Come hither: pray you
How goes the world, that I am thus encountred
With clamorous demands of debt, broken Bonds,
And the detention of long since due debts
Against my Honor?
  Stew. Please you Gentlemen,
The time is vnagreeable to this businesse:
Your importunacie cease, till after dinner,
That I may make his Lordship vnderstand
Wherefore you are not paid
   Tim. Do so my Friends, see them well entertain'd
   Stew. Pray draw neere.
Enter Apemantus and Foole.
  Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the Foole with Apemantus,
let's ha some sport with 'em
   Var. Hang him, hee'l abuse vs
   Isid. A plague vpon him dogge
   Var. How dost Foole?
  Ape. Dost Dialogue with thy shadow?
  Var. I speake not to thee
   Ape. No 'tis to thy selfe. Come away
   Isi. There's the Foole hangs on your backe already
   Ape. No thou stand'st single, th'art not on him yet
   Cap. Where's the Foole now?
  Ape. He last ask'd the question. Poore Rogues, and
Vsurers men, Bauds betweene Gold and want
   Al. What are we Apemantus?
  Ape. Asses
   All. Why?
  Ape. That you ask me what you are, & do not know
your selues. Speake to 'em Foole
   Foole. How do you Gentlemen?
  All. Gramercies good Foole:
How does your Mistris?
  Foole. She's e'ne setting on water to scal'd such Chickens
as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth
   Ape. Good, Gramercy.
  Foole. Looke you, heere comes my Masters Page
   Page. Why how now Captaine? what do you in this
wise Company.
How dost thou Apermantus?
  Ape. Would I had a Rod in my mouth, that I might
answer thee profitably
   Boy. Prythee Apemantus reade me the superscription
of these Letters, I know not which is which
   Ape. Canst not read?
   Ape. There will litle Learning dye then that day thou
art hang'd. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go
thou was't borne a Bastard, and thou't dye a Bawd
   Page. Thou was't whelpt a Dogge, and thou shalt
famish a Dogges death.
Answer not, I am gone.
  Ape. E'ne so thou out-runst Grace,
Foole I will go with you to Lord Timons
   Foole. Will you leaue me there?
  Ape. If Timon stay at home.
You three serue three Vsurers?
  All. I would they seru'd vs
   Ape. So would I:
As good a tricke as euer Hangman seru'd Theefe
   Foole. Are you three Vsurers men?
  All. I Foole
   Foole. I thinke no Vsurer, but ha's a Foole to his Seruant.
My Mistris is one, and I am her Foole: when men
come to borrow of your Masters, they approach sadly,
and go away merry: but they enter my Masters house
merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this?
  Var. I could render one
   Ap. Do it then, that we may account thee a Whoremaster,
and a Knaue, which notwithstanding thou shalt
be no lesse esteemed
   Varro. What is a Whoremaster Foole?
  Foole. A Foole in good cloathes, and something like
thee. 'Tis a spirit, sometime t' appeares like a Lord, somtime
like a Lawyer, sometime like a Philosopher, with
two stones moe then's artificiall one. Hee is verie often
like a Knight; and generally, in all shapes that man goes
vp and downe in, from fourescore to thirteen, this spirit
   Var. Thou art not altogether a Foole
   Foole. Nor thou altogether a Wise man,
As much foolerie as I haue, so much wit thou lack'st
   Ape. That answer might haue become Apemantus
   All. Aside, aside, heere comes Lord Timon.
Enter Timon and Steward.
  Ape. Come with me (Foole) come
   Foole. I do not alwayes follow Louer, elder Brother,
and Woman, sometime the Philosopher
   Stew. Pray you walke neere,
Ile speake with you anon.
  Tim. You make me meruell wherefore ere this time
Had you not fully laide my state before me,
That I might so haue rated my expence
As I had leaue of meanes
   Stew. You would not heare me:
At many leysures I propose
   Tim. Go too:
Perchance some single vantages you tooke,
When my indisposition put you backe,
And that vnaptnesse made your minister
Thus to excuse your selfe
   Stew. O my good Lord,
At many times I brought in my accompts,
Laid them before you, you would throw them off,
And say you sound them in mine honestie,
When for some trifling present you haue bid me
Returne so much, I haue shooke my head, and wept:
Yea 'gainst th' Authoritie of manners, pray'd you
To hold your hand more close: I did indure
Not sildome, nor no slight checkes, when I haue
Prompted you in the ebbe of your estate,
And your great flow of debts; my lou'd Lord,
Though you heare now (too late) yet nowes a time,
The greatest of your hauing, lackes a halfe,
To pay your present debts
   Tim. Let all my Land be sold
   Stew. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeyted and gone,
And what remaines will hardly stop the mouth
Of present dues; the future comes apace:
What shall defend the interim, and at length
How goes our reck'ning?
  Tim. To Lacedemon did my Land extend
   Stew. O my good Lord, the world is but a word,
Were it all yours, to giue it in a breath,
How quickely were it gone
   Tim. You tell me true
   Stew. If you suspect my Husbandry or Falshood,
Call me before th' exactest Auditors,
And set me on the proofe. So the Gods blesse me,
When all our Offices haue beene opprest
With riotous Feeders, when our Vaults haue wept
With drunken spilth of Wine; when euery roome
Hath blaz'd with Lights, and braid with Minstrelsie,
I haue retyr'd me to a wastefull cocke,
And set mine eyes at flow
   Tim. Prythee no more
   Stew. Heauens, haue I said, the bounty of this Lord:
How many prodigall bits haue Slaues and Pezants
This night englutted: who is not Timons,
What heart, head, sword, force, meanes, but is L[ord]. Timons:
Great Timon, Noble, Worthy, Royall Timon:
Ah, when the meanes are gone, that buy this praise,
The breath is gone, whereof this praise is made:
Feast won, fast lost; one cloud of Winter showres,
These flyes are coucht
   Tim. Come sermon me no further.
No villanous bounty yet hath past my heart;
Vnwisely, not ignobly haue I giuen.
Why dost thou weepe, canst thou the conscience lacke,
To thinke I shall lacke friends: secure thy heart,
If I would broach the vessels of my loue,
And try the argument of hearts, by borrowing,
Men, and mens fortunes could I frankely vse
As I can bid thee speake
   Ste. Assurance blesse your thoughts
   Tim. And in some sort these wants of mine are crown'd,
That I account them blessings. For by these
Shall I trie Friends. You shall perceiue
How you mistake my Fortunes:
I am wealthie in my Friends.
Within there, Flauius, Seruilius?
Enter three Seruants.
  Ser. My Lord, my Lord
   Tim. I will dispatch you seuerally.
You to Lord Lucius, to Lord Lucullus you, I hunted
with his Honor to day; you to Sempronius; commend me
to their loues; and I am proud say, that my occasions
haue found time to vse 'em toward a supply of mony: let
the request be fifty Talents
   Flam. As you haue said, my Lord
   Stew. Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh
   Tim. Go you sir to the Senators;
Of whom, euen to the States best health; I haue
Deseru'd this Hearing: bid 'em send o'th' instant
A thousand Talents to me
   Ste. I haue beene bold
(For that I knew it the most generall way)
To them, to vse your Signet, and your Name,
But they do shake their heads, and I am heere
No richer in returne
   Tim. Is't true? Can't be?
  Stew. They answer in a ioynt and corporate voice,
That now they are at fall, want Treasure cannot
Do what they would, are sorrie: you are Honourable,
But yet they could haue wisht, they know not,
Something hath beene amisse; a Noble Nature
May catch a wrench; would all were well; tis pitty,
And so intending other serious matters,
After distastefull lookes; and these hard Fractions
With certaine halfe-caps, and cold mouing nods,
They froze me into Silence
   Tim. You Gods reward them:
Prythee man looke cheerely. These old Fellowes
Haue their ingratitude in them Hereditary:
Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it sildome flowes,
'Tis lacke of kindely warmth, they are not kinde;
And Nature, as it growes againe toward earth,
Is fashion'd for the iourney, dull and heauy.
Go to Ventiddius (prythee be not sad,
Thou art true, and honest; Ingeniously I speake,
No blame belongs to thee:) Ventiddius lately
Buried his Father, by whose death hee's stepp'd
Into a great estate: When he was poore,
Imprison'd, and in scarsitie of Friends,
I cleer'd him with fiue Talents: Greet him from me,
Bid him suppose, some good necessity
Touches his Friend, which craues to be remembred
With those fiue Talents; that had, giue't these Fellowes
To whom 'tis instant due. Neu'r speake, or thinke,
That Timons fortunes 'mong his Friends can sinke
   Stew. I would I could not thinke it:
That thought is Bounties Foe;
Being free it selfe, it thinkes all others so.
Flaminius waiting to speake with a Lord from his Master, enters a
  Ser. I haue told my Lord of you, he is comming down
   Flam. I thanke you Sir.
Enter Lucullus.
  Ser. Heere's my Lord
   Luc. One of Lord Timons men? A Guift I warrant.
Why this hits right: I dreampt of a Siluer Bason & Ewre
to night. Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are verie respectiuely
welcome sir. Fill me some Wine. And how
does that Honourable, Compleate, Free-hearted Gentleman
of Athens, thy very bountifull good Lord and Mayster?
  Flam. His health is well sir
   Luc. I am right glad that his health is well sir: and
what hast thou there vnder thy Cloake, pretty Flaminius?
  Flam. Faith, nothing but an empty box Sir, which in
my Lords behalfe, I come to intreat your Honor to supply:
who hauing great and instant occasion to vse fiftie
Talents, hath sent to your Lordship to furnish him: nothing
doubting your present assistance therein
   Luc. La, la, la, la: Nothing doubting sayes hee? Alas
good Lord, a Noble Gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep
so good a house. Many a time and often I ha din'd with
him, and told him on't, and come againe to supper to him
of purpose, to haue him spend lesse, and yet he wold embrace
no counsell, take no warning by my comming, euery
man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha told him on't,
but I could nere get him from't.
Enter Seruant with Wine.
  Ser. Please your Lordship, heere is the Wine
   Luc. Flaminius, I haue noted thee alwayes wise.
Heere's to thee
   Flam. Your Lordship speakes your pleasure
   Luc. I haue obserued thee alwayes for a towardlie
prompt spirit, giue thee thy due, and one that knowes
what belongs to reason; and canst vse the time wel, if the
time vse thee well. Good parts in thee; get you gone sirrah.
Draw neerer honest Flaminius. Thy Lords a bountifull
Gentleman, but thou art wise, and thou know'st
well enough (although thou com'st to me) that this is no
time to lend money, especially vpon bare friendshippe
without securitie. Here's three Solidares for thee, good
Boy winke at me, and say thou saw'st mee not. Fare thee
   Flam. Is't possible the world should so much differ,
And we aliue that liued? Fly damned basenesse
To him that worships thee
   Luc. Ha? Now I see thou art a Foole, and fit for thy
Exit L[ucullus].
  Flam. May these adde to the number y may scald thee:
Let moulten Coine be thy damnation,
Thou disease of a friend, and not himselfe:
Has friendship such a faint and milkie heart,
It turnes in lesse then two nights? O you Gods!
I feele my Masters passion. This Slaue vnto his Honor,
Has my Lords meate in him:
Why should it thriue, and turne to Nutriment,
When he is turn'd to poyson?
O may Diseases onely worke vpon't:
And when he's sicke to death, let not that part of Nature
Which my Lord payd for, be of any power
To expell sicknesse, but prolong his hower.
Enter Lucius, with three strangers.
  Luc. Who the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend
and an Honourable Gentleman
   1 We know him for no lesse, thogh we are but strangers
to him. But I can tell you one thing my Lord, and
which I heare from common rumours, now Lord Timons
happie howres are done and past, and his estate shrinkes
   Lucius. Fye no, doe not beleeue it: hee cannot want
   2 But beleeue you this my Lord, that not long agoe,
one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus, to borrow so
many Talents, nay vrg'd extreamly for't, and shewed
what necessity belong'd too't, and yet was deny'de
   Luci. How?
  2 I tell you, deny'de my Lord
   Luci. What a strange case was that? Now before the
Gods I am asham'd on't. Denied that honourable man?
There was verie little Honour shew'd in't. For my owne
part, I must needes confesse, I haue receyued some small
kindnesses from him, as Money, Plate, Iewels, and such
like Trifles; nothing comparing to his: yet had hee mistooke
him, and sent to me, I should ne're haue denied his
Occasion so many Talents.
Enter Seruilius.
  Seruil. See, by good hap yonders my Lord, I haue
swet to see his Honor. My Honor'd Lord
   Lucil. Seruilius? You are kindely met sir. Farthewell,
commend me to thy Honourable vertuous Lord, my very
exquisite Friend
   Seruil. May it please your Honour, my Lord hath
  Luci. Ha? what ha's he sent? I am so much endeered
to that Lord; hee's euer sending: how shall I thank him
think'st thou? And what has he sent now?
  Seruil. Has onely sent his present Occasion now my
Lord: requesting your Lordship to supply his instant vse
with so many Talents
   Lucil. I know his Lordship is but merry with me,
He cannot want fifty fiue hundred Talents
   Seruil. But in the mean time he wants lesse my Lord.
If his occasion were not vertuous,
I should not vrge it halfe so faithfully
   Luc. Dost thou speake seriously Seruilius?
  Seruil. Vpon my soule 'tis true Sir
   Luci. What a wicked Beast was I to disfurnish my
self against such a good time, when I might ha shewn my
selfe Honourable? How vnluckily it hapned, that I shold
Purchase the day before for a little part, and vndo a great
deale of Honour? Seruilius, now before the Gods I am
not able to do (the more beast I say) I was sending to vse
Lord Timon my selfe, these Gentlemen can witnesse; but
I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done't now.
Commend me bountifully to his good Lordship, and I
hope his Honor will conceiue the fairest of mee, because
I haue no power to be kinde. And tell him this from me,
I count it one of my greatest afflictions say, that I cannot
pleasure such an Honourable Gentleman. Good Seruilius,
will you befriend mee so farre, as to vse mine owne
words to him?
  Ser. Yes sir, I shall.
Exit Seruil[ius].
  Lucil. Ile looke you out a good turne Seruilius.
True as you said, Timon is shrunke indeede,
And he that's once deny'de, will hardly speede.
  1 Do you obserue this Hostilius?
  2 I, to well
   1 Why this is the worlds soule,
And iust of the same peece
Is euery Flatterers sport: who can call him his Friend
That dips in the same dish? For in my knowing
Timon has bin this Lords Father,
And kept his credit with his purse:
Supported his estate, nay Timons money
Has paid his men their wages. He ne're drinkes,
But Timons Siluer treads vpon his Lip,
And yet, oh see the monstrousnesse of man,
When he lookes out in an vngratefull shape;
He does deny him (in respect of his)
What charitable men affoord to Beggers
   3 Religion grones at it
   1 For mine owne part, I neuer tasted Timon in my life
Nor came any of his bounties ouer me,
To marke me for his Friend. Yet I protest,
For his right Noble minde, illustrious Vertue,
And Honourable Carriage,
Had his necessity made vse of me,
I would haue put my wealth into Donation,
And the best halfe should haue return'd to him,
So much I loue his heart: But I perceiue,
Men must learne now with pitty to dispence,
For Policy sits aboue Conscience.
Enter a third seruant with Sempronius, another of Timons Friends.
  Semp. Must he needs trouble me in't? Hum.
'Boue all others?
He might haue tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus,
And now Ventidgius is wealthy too,
Whom he redeem'd from prison. All these
Owes their estates vnto him
   Ser. My Lord,
They haue all bin touch'd, and found Base-Mettle,
For they haue all denied him
   Semp. How? Haue they deny'de him?
Has Ventidgius and Lucullus deny'de him,
And does he send to me? Three? Humh?
It shewes but little loue, or iudgement in him.
Must I be his last Refuge? His Friends (like Physitians)
Thriue, giue him ouer: Must I take th' Cure vpon me?
Has much disgrac'd me in't, I'me angry at him,
That might haue knowne my place. I see no sense for't,
But his Occasions might haue wooed me first:
For in my conscience, I was the first man
That ere receiued guift from him.
And does he thinke so backwardly of me now,
That Ile requite it last? No:
So it may proue an Argument of Laughter
To th' rest, and 'mong'st Lords be thought a Foole:
I'de rather then the worth of thrice the summe,
Had sent to me first, but for my mindes sake:
I'de such a courage to do him good. But now returne,
And with their faint reply, this answer ioyne;
Who bates mine Honor, shall not know my Coyne.
  Ser. Excellent: Your Lordships a goodly Villain: the
diuell knew not what he did, when hee made man Politicke;
he crossed himselfe by't: and I cannot thinke, but
in the end, the Villanies of man will set him cleere. How
fairely this Lord striues to appeare foule? Takes Vertuous
Copies to be wicked: like those, that vnder hotte ardent
zeale, would set whole Realmes on fire, of such a nature
is his politike loue.
This was my Lords best hope, now all are fled
Saue onely the Gods. Now his Friends are dead,
Doores that were ne're acquainted with their Wards
Many a bounteous yeere, must be imploy'd
Now to guard sure their Master:
And this is all a liberall course allowes,
Who cannot keepe his wealth, must keep his house.
Enter Varro's man, meeting others. All Timons Creditors to wait
comming out. Then enter Lucius and Hortensius.
  Var.man. Well met, goodmorrow Titus & Hortensius
  Tit. The like to you kinde Varro
   Hort. Lucius, what do we meet together?
  Luci. I, and I think one businesse do's command vs all.
For mine is money
   Tit. So is theirs, and ours.
Enter Philotus.
  Luci. And sir Philotus too
   Phil. Good day at once
   Luci. Welcome good Brother.
What do you thinke the houre?
  Phil. Labouring for Nine
   Luci. So much?
  Phil. Is not my Lord seene yet?
  Luci. Not yet
   Phil. I wonder on't, he was wont to shine at seauen
   Luci. I, but the dayes are waxt shorter with him:
You must consider, that a Prodigall course
Is like the Sunnes, but not like his recouerable, I feare:
'Tis deepest Winter in Lord Timons purse, that is: One
may reach deepe enough, and yet finde little
   Phil. I am of your feare, for that
   Tit. Ile shew you how t' obserue a strange euent:
Your Lord sends now for Money?
  Hort. Most true, he doe's
   Tit. And he weares Iewels now of Timons guift,
For which I waite for money
   Hort. It is against my heart
   Luci. Marke how strange it showes,
Timon in this, should pay more then he owes:
And e'ne as if your Lord should weare rich Iewels,
And send for money for 'em
   Hort. I'me weary of this Charge,
The Gods can witnesse:
I know my Lord hath spent of Timons wealth,
And now Ingratitude, makes it worse then stealth
   Varro. Yes, mine's three thousand Crownes:
What's yours?
  Luci. Fiue thousand mine
   Varro. 'Tis much deepe, and it should seem by th' sum
Your Masters confidence was aboue mine,
Else surely his had equall'd.
Enter Flaminius.
  Tit. One of Lord Timons men
   Luc. Flaminius? Sir, a word: Pray is my Lord readie
to come forth?
  Flam. No, indeed he is not
   Tit. We attend his Lordship: pray signifie so much
   Flam. I need not tell him that, he knowes you are too diligent.
Enter Steward in a Cloake, muffled.
  Luci. Ha: is not that his Steward muffled so?
He goes away in a Clowd: Call him, call him
   Tit. Do you heare, sir?
  2.Varro. By your leaue, sir
   Stew. What do ye aske of me, my Friend
   Tit. We waite for certaine Money heere, sir
   Stew. I, if Money were as certaine as your waiting,
'Twere sure enough.
Why then preferr'd you not your summes and Billes
When your false Masters eate of my Lords meat?
Then they could smile, and fawne vpon his debts.
And take downe th' Intrest into their glutt'nous Mawes.
You do your selues but wrong, to stirre me vp,
Let me passe quietly:
Beleeue't, my Lord and I haue made an end,
I haue no more to reckon, he to spend
   Luci. I, but this answer will not serue
   Stew. If't 'twill not serue, 'tis not so base as you,
For you serue Knaues
   1.Varro. How? What does his casheer'd Worship
  2.Varro. No matter what, hee's poore, and that's reuenge
enough. Who can speake broader, then hee that
has no house to put his head in? Such may rayle against
great buildings.
Enter Seruilius.
  Tit. Oh heere's Seruilius: now wee shall know some
   Seru. If I might beseech you Gentlemen, to repayre
some other houre, I should deriue much from't. For tak't
of my soule, my Lord leanes wondrously to discontent:
His comfortable temper has forsooke him, he's much out
of health, and keepes his Chamber
   Luci. Many do keepe their Chambers, are not sicke:
And if it be so farre beyond his health,
Me thinkes he should the sooner pay his debts,
And make a cleere way to the Gods
   Seruil. Good Gods
   Titus. We cannot take this for answer, sir
   Flaminius within. Seruilius helpe, my Lord, my Lord.
Enter Timon in a rage.
  Tim. What, are my dores oppos'd against my passage?
Haue I bin euer free, and must my house
Be my retentiue Enemy? My Gaole?
The place which I haue Feasted, does it now
(Like all Mankinde) shew me an Iron heart?
  Luci. Put in now Titus
   Tit. My Lord, heere is my Bill
   Luci. Here's mine
   1.Var. And mine, my Lord
   2.Var. And ours, my Lord
   Philo. All our Billes
   Tim. Knocke me downe with 'em, cleaue mee to the
   Luc. Alas, my Lord
   Tim. Cut my heart in summes
   Tit. Mine, fifty Talents
   Tim. Tell out my blood
   Luc. Fiue thousand Crownes, my Lord
   Tim. Fiue thousand drops payes that.
What yours? and yours?
  1.Var. My Lord
   2.Var. My Lord
   Tim. Teare me, take me, and the Gods fall vpon you.
  Hort. Faith I perceiue our Masters may throwe their
caps at their money, these debts may well be call'd desperate
ones, for a madman owes 'em.
Enter Timon.
  Timon. They haue e'ene put my breath from mee the
slaues. Creditors? Diuels
   Stew. My deere Lord
   Tim. What if it should be so?
  Stew. My Lord
   Tim. Ile haue it so. My Steward?
  Stew. Heere my Lord
   Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my Friends againe,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vllorxa: All,
Ile once more feast the Rascals
   Stew. O my Lord, you onely speake from your distracted
soule; there's not so much left to furnish out a moderate
   Tim. Be it not in thy care:
Go I charge thee, inuite them all, let in the tide
Of Knaues once more: my Cooke and Ile prouide.
Enter three Senators at one doore, Alcibiades meeting them, with
   1.Sen. My Lord, you haue my voyce, too't,
The faults Bloody:
'Tis necessary he should dye:
Nothing imboldens sinne so much, as Mercy
   2 Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em
   Alc. Honor, health, and compassion to the Senate
   1 Now Captaine
   Alc. I am an humble Sutor to your Vertues;
For pitty is the vertue of the Law,
And none but Tyrants vse it cruelly.
It pleases time and Fortune to lye heauie
Vpon a Friend of mine, who in hot blood
Hath stept into the Law: which is past depth
To those that (without heede) do plundge intoo't.
He is a Man (setting his Fate aside) of comely Vertues,
Nor did he soyle the fact with Cowardice.
(And Honour in him, which buyes out his fault)
But with a Noble Fury, and faire spirit,
Seeing his Reputation touch'd to death,
He did oppose his Foe:
And with such sober and vnnoted passion
He did behooue his anger ere 'twas spent,
As if he had but prou'd an Argument
   1.Sen. You vndergo too strict a Paradox,
Striuing to make an vgly deed looke faire:
Your words haue tooke such paines, as if they labour'd
To bring Man-slaughter into forme, and set Quarrelling
Vpon the head of Valour; which indeede
Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the world,
When Sects, and Factions were newly borne.
Hee's truly Valiant, that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breath,
And make his Wrongs, his Out-sides,
To weare them like his Rayment, carelessely,
And ne're preferre his iniuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.
If Wrongs be euilles, and inforce vs kill,
What Folly 'tis, to hazard life for Ill
   Alci. My Lord
   1.Sen. You cannot make grosse sinnes looke cleare,
To reuenge is no Valour, but to beare
   Alci. My Lords, then vnder fauour, pardon me,
If I speake like a Captaine.
Why do fond men expose themselues to Battell,
And not endure all threats? Sleepe vpon't,
And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats
Without repugnancy? If there be
Such Valour in the bearing, what make wee
Abroad? Why then, Women are more valiant
That stay at home, if Bearing carry it:
And the Asse, more Captaine then the Lyon?
The fellow loaden with Irons, wiser then the Iudge?
If Wisedome be in suffering. Oh my Lords,
As you are great, be pittifully Good,
Who cannot condemne rashnesse in cold blood?
To kill, I grant, is sinnes extreamest Gust,
But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis most iust.
To be in Anger, is impietie:
But who is Man, that is not Angrie.
Weigh but the Crime with this
   2.Sen. You breath in vaine
   Alci. In vaine?
His seruice done at Lacedemon, and Bizantium,
Were a sufficient briber for his life
   1 What's that?
  Alc. Why say my Lords ha's done faire seruice,
And slaine in fight many of your enemies:
How full of valour did he beare himselfe
In the last Conflict, and made plenteous wounds?
  2 He has made too much plenty with him:
He's a sworne Riotor, he has a sinne
That often drownes him, and takes his valour prisoner.
If there were no Foes, that were enough
To ouercome him. In that Beastly furie,
He has bin knowne to commit outrages,
And cherrish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to vs,
His dayes are foule, and his drinke dangerous
   1 He dyes
   Alci. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre.
My Lords, if not for any parts in him,
Though his right arme might purchase his owne time,
And be in debt to none: yet more to moue you,
Take my deserts to his, and ioyne 'em both.
And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security,
Ile pawne my Victories, all my Honour to you
Vpon his good returnes.
If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life,
Why let the Warre receiue't in valiant gore,
For Law is strict, and Warre is nothing more
   1 We are for Law, he dyes, vrge it no more
On height of our displeasure: Friend, or Brother,
He forfeits his owne blood, that spilles another
   Alc. Must it be so? It must not bee:
My Lords, I do beseech you know mee
  Alc. Call me to your remembrances
   Alc. I cannot thinke but your Age has forgot me,
It could not else be, I should proue so bace,
To sue and be deny'de such common Grace.
My wounds ake at you
   1 Do you dare our anger?
'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect:
We banish thee for euer
   Alc. Banish me?
Banish your dotage, banish vsurie,
That makes the Senate vgly
   1 If after two dayes shine, Athens containe thee,
Attend our waightier Iudgement.
And not to swell our Spirit,
He shall be executed presently.
  Alc. Now the Gods keepe you old enough,
That you may liue
Onely in bone, that none may looke on you.
I'm worse then mad: I haue kept backe their Foes
While they haue told their Money, and let out
Their Coine vpon large interest. I my selfe,
Rich onely in large hurts. All those, for this?
Is this the Balsome, that the vsuring Senat
Powres into Captaines wounds? Banishment.
It comes not ill: I hate not to be banisht,
It is a cause worthy my Spleene and Furie,
That I may strike at Athens. Ile cheere vp
My discontented Troopes, and lay for hearts;
'Tis Honour with most Lands to be at ods,
Souldiers should brooke as little wrongs as Gods.
Enter diuers Friends at seuerall doores.
  1 The good time of day to you, sir
   2 I also wish it to you: I thinke this Honorable Lord
did but try vs this other day
   1 Vpon that were my thoughts tyring when wee encountred.
I hope it is not so low with him as he made it
seeme in the triall of his seuerall Friends
   2 It should not be, by the perswasion of his new Feasting
   1 I should thinke so. He hath sent mee an earnest inuiting,
which many my neere occasions did vrge mee to
put off: but he hath coniur'd mee beyond them, and I
must needs appeare
   2 In like manner was I in debt to my importunat businesse,
but he would not heare my excuse. I am sorrie,
when he sent to borrow of mee, that my Prouision was
   1 I am sicke of that greefe too, as I vnderstand how all
   2 Euery man heares so: what would hee haue borrowed
  1 A thousand Peeces
   2 A thousand Peeces?
  1 What of you?
  2 He sent to me sir- Heere he comes.
Enter Timon and Attendants.
  Tim. With all my heart Gentlemen both; and how
  1 Euer at the best, hearing well of your Lordship
   2 The Swallow followes not Summer more willing,
then we your Lordship
   Tim. Nor more willingly leaues Winter, such Summer
Birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompence
this long stay: Feast your eares with the Musicke
awhile: If they will fare so harshly o'th' Trumpets
sound: we shall too't presently
   1 I hope it remaines not vnkindely with your Lordship,
that I return'd you an empty Messenger
   Tim. O sir, let it not trouble you
   2 My Noble Lord
   Tim. Ah my good Friend, what cheere?
The Banket brought in.
  2 My most Honorable Lord, I am e'ne sick of shame,
that when your Lordship this other day sent to me, I was
so vnfortunate a Beggar
   Tim. Thinke not on't, sir
   2 If you had sent but two houres before
   Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance.
Come bring in all together
   2 All couer'd Dishes
   1 Royall Cheare, I warrant you
   3 Doubt not that, if money and the season can yeild it
  1 How do you? What's the newes?
  3 Alcibiades is banish'd: heare you of it?
  Both. Alcibiades banish'd?
  3 'Tis so, be sure of it
   1 How? How?
  2 I pray you vpon what?
  Tim. My worthy Friends, will you draw neere?
  3 Ile tell you more anon. Here's a Noble feast toward
  2 This is the old man still
   3 Wilt hold? Wilt hold?
  2 It do's: but time will, and so
   3 I do conceyue
   Tim. Each man to his stoole, with that spurre as hee
would to the lip of his Mistris: your dyet shall bee in all
places alike. Make not a Citie Feast of it, to let the meat
coole, ere we can agree vpon the first place. Sit, sit.
The Gods require our Thankes.
You great Benefactors, sprinkle our Society with Thankefulnesse.
For your owne guifts, make your selues prais'd: But
reserue still to giue, least your Deities be despised. Lend to each
man enough, that one neede not lend to another. For were your
Godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the Gods. Make
the Meate be beloued, more then the Man that giues it. Let
no Assembly of Twenty, be without a score of Villaines. If there
sit twelue Women at the Table, let a dozen of them bee as they
are. The rest of your Fees, O Gods, the Senators of Athens,
together with the common legge of People, what is amisse in
them, you Gods, make suteable for destruction. For these my
present Friends, as they are to mee nothing, so in nothing blesse
them, and to nothing are they welcome.
Vncouer Dogges, and lap
   Some speake. What do's his Lordship meane?
  Some other. I know not
   Timon. May you a better Feast neuer behold
You knot of Mouth-Friends: Smoke, & lukewarm water
Is your perfection. This is Timons last,
Who stucke and spangled you with Flatteries,
Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces
Your reeking villany. Liue loath'd, and long
Most smiling, smooth, detested Parasites,
Curteous Destroyers, affable Wolues, meeke Beares:
You Fooles of Fortune, Trencher-friends, Times Flyes,
Cap and knee-Slaues, vapours, and Minute Iackes.
Of Man and Beast, the infinite Maladie
Crust you quite o're. What do'st thou go?
Soft, take thy Physicke first; thou too, and thou:
Stay I will lend thee money, borrow none.
What? All in Motion? Henceforth be no Feast,
Whereat a Villaine's not a welcome Guest.
Burne house, sinke Athens, henceforth hated be
Of Timon Man, and all Humanity.
Enter the Senators, with other Lords.
  1 How now, my Lords?
  2 Know you the quality of Lord Timons fury?
  3 Push, did you see my Cap?
  4 I haue lost my Gowne
   1 He's but a mad Lord, & nought but humors swaies
him. He gaue me a Iewell th' other day, and now hee has
beate it out of my hat.
Did you see my Iewell?
  2 Did you see my Cap
   3 Heere 'tis
   4 Heere lyes my Gowne
   1 Let's make no stay
   2 Lord Timons mad
   3 I feel't vpon my bones
   4 One day he giues vs Diamonds, next day stones.
Exeunt. the Senators.
Enter Timon.
  Tim. Let me looke backe vpon thee. O thou Wall
That girdles in those Wolues, diue in the earth,
And fence not Athens. Matrons, turne incontinent,
Obedience fayle in Children: Slaues and Fooles
Plucke the graue wrinkled Senate from the Bench,
And minister in their steeds, to generall Filthes.
Conuert o'th' Instant greene Virginity,
Doo't in your Parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast
Rather then render backe; out with your Kniues,
And cut your Trusters throates. Bound Seruants, steale,
Large-handed Robbers your graue Masters are,
And pill by Law. Maide, to thy Masters bed,
Thy Mistris is o'th' Brothell. Some of sixteen,
Plucke the lyn'd Crutch from thy old limping Sire,
With it, beate out his Braines. Piety, and Feare,
Religion to the Gods, Peace, Iustice, Truth,
Domesticke awe, Night-rest, and Neighbourhood,
Instruction, Manners, Mysteries, and Trades,
Degrees, Obseruances, Customes, and Lawes,
Decline to your confounding contraries.
And yet Confusion liue: Plagues incident to men,
Your potent and infectious Feauors, heape
On Athens ripe for stroke. Thou cold Sciatica,
Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt
As lamely as their Manners. Lust, and Libertie
Creepe in the Mindes and Marrowes of our youth,
That 'gainst the streame of Vertue they may striue,
And drowne themselues in Riot. Itches, Blaines,
So we all th' Athenian bosomes, and their crop
Be generall Leprosie: Breath, infect breath,
That their Society (as their Friendship) may
Be meerely poyson. Nothing Ile beare from thee
But nakednesse, thou detestable Towne,
Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes:
Timon will to the Woods, where he shall finde
Th' vnkindest Beast, more kinder then Mankinde.
The Gods confound (heare me you good Gods all)
Th' Athenians both within and out that Wall:
And graunt as Timon growes, his hate may grow
To the whole race of Mankinde, high and low.
Enter Steward with two or three Seruants.
  1 Heare you M[aster]. Steward, where's our Master?
Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining?
  Stew. Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods,
I am as poore as you
   1 Such a House broke?
So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not
One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme,
And go along with him
   2 As we do turne our backes
From our Companion, throwne into his graue,
So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes
Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him
Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe
A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre,
With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty,
Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes.
Enter other Seruants.
  Stew. All broken Implements of a ruin'd house
   3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery,
That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still,
Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke,
And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke,
Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part
Into this Sea of Ayre
   Stew. Good Fellowes all,
The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you.
Where euer we shall meete, for Timons sake,
Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and say
As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes,
We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some:
Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more,
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore.
Embrace and part seuerall wayes.
Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs!
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,
Since Riches point to Misery and Contempt?
Who would be so mock'd with Glory, or to liue
But in a Dreame of Friendship,
To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds,
But onely painted like his varnisht Friends:
Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart,
Vndone by Goodnesse: Strange vnvsuall blood,
When mans worst sinne is, He do's too much Good.
Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen?
For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men.
My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst,
Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes
Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord)
Hee's flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate
Of monstrous Friends:
Nor ha's he with him to supply his life,
Or that which can command it:
Ile follow and enquire him out.
Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will,
Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still.
Enter Timon in the woods.
  Tim. O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity: below thy Sisters Orbe
Infect the ayre. Twin'd Brothers of one wombe,
Whose procreation, residence, and birth,
Scarse is diuidant; touch them with seuerall fortunes,
The greater scornes the lesser. Not Nature
(To whom all sores lay siege) can beare great Fortune
But by contempt of Nature.
Raise me this Begger, and deny't that Lord,
The Senators shall beare contempt Hereditary,
The Begger Natiue Honor.
It is the Pastour Lards, the Brothers sides,
The want that makes him leaue: who dares? who dares
In puritie of Manhood stand vpright
And say, this mans a Flatterer. If one be,
So are they all: for euerie grize of Fortune
Is smooth'd by that below. The Learned pate
Duckes to the Golden Foole. All's obliquie:
There's nothing leuell in our cursed Natures
But direct villanie. Therefore be abhorr'd,
All Feasts, Societies, and Throngs of men.
His semblable, yea himselfe Timon disdaines,
Destruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes,
Who seekes for better of thee, sawce his pallate
With thy most operant Poyson. What is heere?
Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold?
No Gods, I am no idle Votarist,
Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will make
Blacke, white; fowle, faire; wrong, right;
Base, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant.
Ha you Gods! why this? what this, you Gods? why this
Will lugge your Priests and Seruants from your sides:
Plucke stout mens pillowes from below their heads.
This yellow Slaue,
Will knit and breake Religions, blesse th' accurst,
Make the hoare Leprosie ador'd, place Theeues,
And giue them Title, knee, and approbation
With Senators on the Bench: This is it
That makes the wappen'd Widdow wed againe;
Shee, whom the Spittle-house, and vlcerous sores,
Would cast the gorge at. This Embalmes and Spices
To'th' Aprill day againe. Come damn'd Earth,
Thou common whore of Mankinde, that puttes oddes
Among the rout of Nations, I will make thee
Do thy right Nature.
March afarre off.
Ha? A Drumme? Th'art quicke,
But yet Ile bury thee: Thou't go (strong Theefe)
When Gowty keepers of thee cannot stand:
Nay stay thou out for earnest.
Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Fife in warlike manner, and
  Alc. What art thou there? speake
   Tim. A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart
For shewing me againe the eyes of Man
   Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee,
That art thy selfe a Man?
  Tim. I am Misantropos, and hate Mankinde.
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dogge,
That I might loue thee something
   Alc. I know thee well:
But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn'd, and strange
   Tim. I know thee too, and more then that I know thee
I not desire to know. Follow thy Drumme,
With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules:
Religious Cannons, ciuill Lawes are cruell,
Then what should warre be? This fell whore of thine,
Hath in her more destruction then thy Sword,
For all her Cherubin looke
   Phrin. Thy lips rot off
   Tim. I will not kisse thee, then the rot returnes
To thine owne lippes againe
   Alc. How came the Noble Timon to this change?
  Tim. As the Moone do's, by wanting light to giue:
But then renew I could not like the Moone,
There were no Sunnes to borrow of
   Alc. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?
  Tim. None, but to maintaine my opinion
   Alc. What is it Timon?
  Tim. Promise me Friendship, but performe none.
If thou wilt not promise, the Gods plague thee, for thou
art a man: if thou do'st performe, confound thee, for
thou art a man
   Alc. I haue heard in some sort of thy Miseries
   Tim. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperitie
   Alc. I see them now, then was a blessed time
   Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of Harlots
   Timan. Is this th' Athenian Minion, whom the world
Voic'd so regardfully?
  Tim. Art thou Timandra?
  Timan. Yes
   Tim. Be a whore still, they loue thee not that vse thee,
giue them diseases, leauing with thee their Lust. Make
vse of thy salt houres, season the slaues for Tubbes and
Bathes, bring downe Rose-cheekt youth to the Fubfast,
and the Diet
   Timan. Hang thee Monster
   Alc. Pardon him sweet Timandra, for his wits
Are drown'd and lost in his Calamities.
I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon,
The want whereof, doth dayly make reuolt
In my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu'd
How cursed Athens, mindelesse of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour states
But for thy Sword and Fortune trod vpon them
   Tim. I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone
   Alc. I am thy Friend, and pitty thee deere Timon
   Tim. How doest thou pitty him whom y dost troble,
I had rather be alone
   Alc. Why fare thee well:
Heere is some Gold for thee
   Tim. Keepe it, I cannot eate it
   Alc. When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape
   Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens
   Alc. I Timon, and haue cause
   Tim. The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest,
And thee after, when thou hast Conquer'd
   Alc. Why me, Timon?
  Tim. That by killing of Villaines
Thou was't borne to conquer my Country.
Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on;
Be as a Plannetary plague, when Ioue
Will o're some high-Vic'd City, hang his poyson
In the sicke ayre: let not thy sword skip one:
Pitty not honour'd Age for his white Beard,
He is an Vsurer. Strike me the counterfet Matron,
It is her habite onely, that is honest,
Her selfe's a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheeke
Make soft thy trenchant Sword: for those Milke pappes
That through the window Barne bore at mens eyes,
Are not within the Leafe of pitty writ,
But set them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the Babe
Whose dimpled smiles from Fooles exhaust their mercy;
Thinke it a Bastard, whom the Oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse. Sweare against Obiects,
Put Armour on thine eares, and on thine eyes,
Whose proofe, nor yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes,
Nor sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a iot. There's Gold to pay thy Souldiers,
Make large confusion: and thy fury spent,
Confounded be thy selfe. Speake not, be gone
   Alc. Hast thou Gold yet, Ile take the Gold thou giuest
me, not all thy Counsell
   Tim. Dost thou or dost thou not, Heauens curse vpon
   Both. Giue vs some Gold good Timon, hast y more?
  Tim. Enough to make a Whore forsweare her Trade,
And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp you Sluts
Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable,
Although I know you'l sweare, terribly sweare
Into strong shudders, and to heauenly Agues
Th' immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes:
Ile trust to your Conditions, be whores still.
And he whose pious breath seekes to conuert you,
Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp,
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turne-coats: yet may your paines six months
Be quite contrary, And Thatch
Your poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead,
(Some that were hang'd) no matter:
Weare them, betray with them; Whore still,
Paint till a horse may myre vpon your face:
A pox of wrinkles
   Both. Well, more Gold, what then?
Beleeue't that wee'l do any thing for Gold
   Tim. Consumptions sowe
In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes,
And marre mens spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce,
That he may neuer more false Title pleade,
Nor sound his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen,
That scold'st against the quality of flesh,
And not beleeues himselfe. Downe with the Nose,
Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular to foresee
Smels from the generall weale. Make curl'd pate Ruffians bald
And let the vnscarr'd Braggerts of the Warre
Deriue some paine from you. Plague all,
That your Actiuity may defeate and quell
The sourse of all Erection. There's more Gold.
Do you damne others, and let this damne you,
And ditches graue you all
   Both. More counsell with more Money, bounteous
   Tim. More whore, more Mischeefe first, I haue giuen
   Alc. Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewell
Timon: if I thriue well, Ile visit thee againe
   Tim. If I hope well, Ile neuer see thee more
   Alc. I neuer did thee harme
   Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me
   Alc. Call'st thou that harme?
  Tim. Men dayly finde it. Get thee away,
And take thy Beagles with thee
   Alc. We but offend him, strike.
  Tim. That Nature being sicke of mans vnkindnesse
Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou
Whose wombe vnmeasureable, and infinite brest
Teemes and feeds all: whose selfesame Mettle
Whereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puft,
Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew,
The gilded Newt, and eyelesse venom'd Worme,
With all th' abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen,
Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth shine:
Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate,
From foorth thy plenteous bosome, one poore roote:
Enseare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe,
Let it no more bring out ingratefull man.
Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares,
Teeme with new Monsters, whom thy vpward face
Hath to the Marbled Mansion all aboue
Neuer presented. O, a Root, deare thankes:
Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas,
Whereof ingratefull man with Licourish draughts
And Morsels Vnctious, greases his pure minde,
That from it all Consideration slippes-
Enter Apemantus.
More man? Plague, plague
   Ape. I was directed hither. Men report,
Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost vse them
   Tim. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keepe a dogge
Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee
   Ape. This is in thee a Nature but infected,
A poore vnmanly Melancholly sprung
From change of future. Why this Spade? this place?
This Slaue-like Habit, and these lookes of Care?
Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye soft,
Hugge their diseas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot
That euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods,
By putting on the cunning of a Carper.
Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriue
By that which ha's vndone thee; hindge thy knee,
And let his very breath whom thou'lt obserue
Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine,
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus:
Thou gau'st thine eares (like Tapsters, that bad welcom)
To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis most iust
That thou turne Rascall, had'st thou wealth againe,
Rascals should haue't. Do not assume my likenesse
   Tim. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my selfe
   Ape. Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy self
A Madman so long, now a Foole: what think'st
That the bleake ayre, thy boysterous Chamberlaine
Will put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees,
That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles
And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brooke
Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste
To cure thy o're-nights surfet? Call the Creatures,
Whose naked Natures liue in all the spight
Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused Trunkes,
To the conflicting Elements expos'd
Answer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee.
O thou shalt finde
   Tim. A Foole of thee: depart
   Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did
   Tim. I hate thee worse
   Ape. Why?
  Tim. Thou flatter'st misery
   Ape. I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe
   Tim. Why do'st thou seeke me out?
  Ape. To vex thee
   Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles.
Dost please thy selfe in't?
   Tim. What, a Knaue too?
  Ape. If thou did'st put this sowre cold habit on
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou
Dost it enforcedly: Thou'dst Courtier be againe
Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery
Out-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before:
The one is filling still, neuer compleat:
The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse,
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worse then the worst, Content.
Thou should'st desire to dye, being miserable
   Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable.
Thou art a Slaue, whom Fortunes tender arme
With fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge.
Had'st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded,
The sweet degrees that this breefe world affords,
To such as may the passiue drugges of it
Freely command'st: thou would'st haue plung'd thy self
In generall Riot, melted downe thy youth
In different beds of Lust, and neuer learn'd
The Icie precepts of respect, but followed
The Sugred game before thee. But my selfe,
Who had the world as my Confectionarie,
The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men,
At duty more then I could frame employment;
That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as leaues
Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters brush
Fell from their boughes, and left me open, bare,
For euery storme that blowes. I to beare this,
That neuer knew but better, is some burthen:
Thy Nature, did commence in sufferance, Time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st y hate Men?
They neuer flatter'd thee. What hast thou giuen?
If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge)
Must be thy subiect; who in spight put stuffe
To some shee-Begger, and compounded thee
Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone,
If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men,
Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer
   Ape. Art thou proud yet?
  Tim. I, that I am not thee
   Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall
   Tim. I, that I am one now.
Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee,
I'ld giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone:
That the whole life of Athens were in this,
Thus would I eate it
   Ape. Heere, I will mend thy Feast
   Tim. First mend thy company, take away thy selfe
   Ape. So I shall mend mine owne, by'th' lacke of thine
  Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botcht;
If not, I would it were
   Ape. What would'st thou haue to Athens?
  Tim. Thee thither in a whirlewind: if thou wilt,
Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue
   Ape. Heere is no vse for Gold
   Tim. The best, and truest:
For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme
   Ape. Where lyest a nights Timon?
  Tim. Vnder that's aboue me.
Where feed'st thou a-dayes Apemantus?
  Ape. Where my stomacke findes meate, or rather
where I eate it
   Tim. Would poyson were obedient, & knew my mind
  Ape. Where would'st thou send it?
  Tim. To sawce thy dishes
   Ape. The middle of Humanity thou neuer knewest,
but the extremitie of both ends. When thou wast in thy
Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too much
Curiositie: in thy Ragges thou know'st none, but art despis'd
for the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it
   Tim. On what I hate, I feed not
   Ape. Do'st hate a Medler?
  Tim. I, though it looke like thee
   Ape. And th'hadst hated Medlers sooner, y should'st
haue loued thy selfe better now. What man didd'st thou
euer know vnthrift, that was beloued after his meanes!
  Tim. Who without those meanes thou talk'st of, didst
thou euer know belou'd?
  Ape. My selfe
   Tim. I vnderstand thee: thou had'st some meanes to
keepe a Dogge
   Apem. What things in the world canst thou neerest
compare to thy Flatterers?
  Tim. Women neerest, but men: men are the things
themselues. What would'st thou do with the world Apemantus,
if it lay in thy power?
  Ape. Giue it the Beasts, to be rid of the men
   Tim. Would'st thou haue thy selfe fall in the confusion
of men, and remaine a Beast with the Beasts
   Ape. I Timon
   Tim. A beastly Ambition, which the Goddes graunt
thee t' attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would
beguile thee. if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe would
eate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspect
thee, when peraduenture thou wert accus'd by the Asse:
If thou wert the Asse, thy dulnesse would torment thee;
and still thou liu'dst but as a Breakefast to the Wolfe. If
thou wert the Wolfe, thy greedinesse would afflict thee,
& oft thou should'st hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert
thou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confound
thee, and make thine owne selfe the conquest of thy fury.
Wert thou a Beare, thou would'st be kill'd by the Horse:
wert thou a Horse, thou would'st be seaz'd by the Leopard:
wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to the
Lion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thy
life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence.
What Beast could'st thou bee, that were not subiect
to a Beast: and what a Beast art thou already, that
seest not thy losse in transformation
   Ape. If thou could'st please me
With speaking to me, thou might'st
Haue hit vpon it heere.
The Commonwealth of Athens, is become
A Forrest of Beasts
   Tim. How ha's the Asse broke the wall, that thou art
out of the Citie
   Ape. Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter:
The plague of Company light vpon thee:
I will feare to catch it, and giue way.
When I know not what else to do,
Ile see thee againe
   Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee,
Thou shalt be welcome.
I had rather be a Beggers Dogge,
Then Apemantus
   Ape. Thou art the Cap
Of all the Fooles aliue
   Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough
To spit vpon
   Ape. A plague on thee,
Thou art too bad to curse
   Tim. All Villaines
That do stand by thee, are pure
   Ape. There is no Leprosie,
But what thou speak'st
   Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee;
But I should infect my hands
   Ape. I would my tongue
Could rot them off
   Tim. Away thou issue of a mangie dogge,
Choller does kill me,
That thou art aliue, I swoond to see thee
   Ape. Would thou would'st burst
   Tim. Away thou tedious Rogue, I am sorry I shall
lose a stone by thee
   Ape. Beast
   Tim. Slaue
   Ape. Toad
   Tim. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue.
I am sicke of this false world, and will loue nought
But euen the meere necessities vpon't:
Then Timon presently prepare thy graue:
Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate
Thy graue stone dayly, make thine Epitaph,
That death in me, at others liues may laugh.
O thou sweete King-killer, and deare diuorce
Twixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright defiler
Of Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars,
Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer,
Whose blush doth thawe the consecrated Snow
That lyes on Dians lap.
Thou visible God,
That souldrest close Impossibilities,
And mak'st them kisse; that speak'st with euerie Tongue
To euerie purpose: O thou touch of hearts,
Thinke thy slaue-man rebels, and by thy vertue
Set them into confounding oddes, that Beasts
May haue the world in Empire
   Ape. Would 'twere so,
But not till I am dead. Ile say th'hast Gold:
Thou wilt be throng'd too shortly
   Tim. Throng'd too?
   Tim. Thy backe I prythee
   Ape. Liue, and loue thy misery
   Tim. Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit
   Ape. Mo things like men,
Eate Timon, and abhorre then.
Exit Apeman[tus].
Enter the Bandetti.
  1 Where should he haue this Gold? It is some poore
Fragment, some slender Ort of his remainder: the meere
want of Gold, and the falling from of his Friendes, droue
him into this Melancholly
   2 It is nois'd
He hath a masse of Treasure
   3 Let vs make the assay vpon him, if he care not for't,
he will supply vs easily: if he couetously reserue it, how
shall's get it?
  2 True: for he beares it not about him:
   1 Is not this hee?
  All. Where?
  2 'Tis his description
   3 He? I know him
   All. Saue thee Timon
   Tim. Now Theeues
   All. Soldiers, not Theeues
   Tim. Both too, and womens Sonnes
   All. We are not Theeues, but men
That much do want
   Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat:
Why should you want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes:
Within this Mile breake forth a hundred Springs:
The Oakes beare Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps,
The bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush,
Layes her full Messe before you. Want? why Want?
  1 We cannot liue on Grasse, on Berries, Water,
As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes
   Ti. Nor on the Beasts themselues, the Birds & Fishes,
You must eate men. Yet thankes I must you con,
That you are Theeues profest: that you worke not
In holier shapes: For there is boundlesse Theft
In limited Professions. Rascall Theeues
Heere's Gold. Go, sucke the subtle blood o'th' Grape,
Till the high Feauor seeth your blood to froth,
And so scape hanging. Trust not the Physitian,
His Antidotes are poyson, and he slayes
Moe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together,
Do Villaine do, since you protest to doo't.
Like Workemen, Ile example you with Theeuery:
The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attraction
Robbes the vaste Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe,
And her pale fire, she snatches from the Sunne.
The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resolues
The Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolne
From gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe.
The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power
Ha's vncheck'd Theft. Loue not your selues, away,
Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throates,
All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go,
Breake open shoppes, nothing can you steale
But Theeues do loose it: steale lesse, for this I giue you,
And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen
   3 Has almost charm'd me from my Profession, by perswading
   1 'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduises
vs not to haue vs thriue in our mystery
   2 Ile beleeue him as an Enemy,
And giue ouer my Trade
   1 Let vs first see peace in Athens, there is no time so
miserable, but a man may be true.
Exit Theeues.
Enter the Steward to Timon.
  Stew. Oh you Gods!
Is yon'd despis'd and ruinous man my Lord?
Full of decay and fayling? Oh Monument
And wonder of good deeds, euilly bestow'd!
What an alteration of Honor has desp'rate want made?
What vilder thing vpon the earth, then Friends,
Who can bring Noblest mindes, to basest ends.
How rarely does it meete with this times guise,
When man was wisht to loue his Enemies:
Grant I may euer loue, and rather woo
Those that would mischeefe me, then those that doo.
Has caught me in his eye, I will present my honest griefe
vnto him; and as my Lord, still serue him with my life.
My deerest Master
   Tim. Away: what art thou?
  Stew. Haue you forgot me, Sir?
  Tim. Why dost aske that? I haue forgot all men.
Then, if thou grunt'st, th'art a man.
I haue forgot thee
   Stew. An honest poore seruant of yours
   Tim. Then I know thee not:
I neuer had honest man about me, I all
I kept were Knaues, to serue in meate to Villaines
   Stew. The Gods are witnesse,
Neu'r did poore Steward weare a truer greefe
For his vndone Lord, then mine eyes for you
   Tim. What, dost thou weepe?
Come neerer, then I loue thee
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
Flinty mankinde: whose eyes do neuer giue,
But thorow Lust and Laughter: pittie's sleeping:
Strange times y weepe with laughing, not with weeping
   Stew. I begge of you to know me, good my Lord,
T' accept my greefe, and whil'st this poore wealth lasts,
To entertaine me as your Steward still
   Tim. Had I a Steward
So true, so iust, and now so comfortable?
It almost turnes my dangerous Nature wilde.
Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man
Was borne of woman.
Forgiue my generall, and exceptlesse rashnesse
You perpetuall sober Gods. I do proclaime
One honest man: Mistake me not, but one:
No more I pray, and hee's a Steward.
How faine would I haue hated all mankinde,
And thou redeem'st thy selfe. But all saue thee,
I fell with Curses.
Me thinkes thou art more honest now, then wise:
For, by oppressing and betraying mee,
Thou might'st haue sooner got another Seruice:
For many so arriue at second Masters,
Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true,
(For I must euer doubt, though ne're so sure)
Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous,
If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts,
Expecting in returne twenty for one?
  Stew. No my most worthy Master, in whose brest
Doubt, and suspect (alas) are plac'd too late:
You should haue fear'd false times, when you did Feast.
Suspect still comes, where an estate is least.
That which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue,
Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde;
Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it,
My most Honour'd Lord,
For any benefit that points to mee,
Either in hope, or present, I'de exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich your selfe
   Tim. Looke thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man,
Heere take: the Gods out of my miserie
Ha's sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy,
But thus condition'd: Thou shalt build from men:
Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none,
But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone,
Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to dogges
What thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blasted woods
And may Diseases licke vp their false bloods,
And so farewell, and thriue
   Stew. O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master
   Tim. If thou hat'st Curses
Stay not: flye, whil'st thou art blest and free:
Ne're see thou man, and let me ne're see thee.
Enter Poet, and Painter.
  Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre
where he abides
   Poet. What's to be thought of him?
Does the Rumor hold for true,
That hee's so full of Gold?
  Painter. Certaine.
Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo
Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich'd
Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity.
'Tis saide, he gaue vnto his Steward
A mighty summe
   Poet. Then this breaking of his,
Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends?
  Painter. Nothing else:
You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe,
And flourish with the highest:
Therefore, 'tis not amisse, we tender our loues
To him, in this suppos'd distresse of his:
It will shew honestly in vs,
And is very likely, to loade our purposes
With what they trauaile for,
If it be a iust and true report, that goes
Of his hauing
   Poet. What haue you now
To present vnto him?
  Painter. Nothing at this time
But my Visitation: onely I will promise him
An excellent Peece
   Poet. I must serue him so too;
Tell him of an intent that's comming toward him
   Painter. Good as the best.
Promising, is the verie Ayre o'th' Time;
It opens the eyes of Expectation.
Performance, is euer the duller for his acte,
And but in the plainer and simpler kinde of people,
The deede of Saying is quite out of vse.
To Promise, is most Courtly and fashionable;
Performance, is a kinde of Will or Testament
Which argues a great sicknesse in his iudgement
That makes it.
Enter Timon from his Caue.
  Timon. Excellent Workeman,
Thou canst not paint a man so badde
As is thy selfe
   Poet. I am thinking
What I shall say I haue prouided for him:
It must be a personating of himselfe:
A Satyre against the softnesse of Prosperity,
With a Discouerie of the infinite Flatteries
That follow youth and opulencie
   Timon. Must thou needes
Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke?
Wilt thou whip thine owne faults in other men?
Do so, I haue Gold for thee
   Poet. Nay let's seeke him.
Then do we sinne against our owne estate,
When we may profit meete, and come too late
   Painter. True:
When the day serues before blacke-corner'd night;
Finde what thou want'st, by free and offer'd light.
   Tim. Ile meete you at the turne:
What a Gods Gold, that he is worshipt
In a baser Temple, then where Swine feede?
'Tis thou that rigg'st the Barke, and plow'st the Fome,
Setlest admired reuerence in a Slaue,
To thee be worshipt, and thy Saints for aye:
Be crown'd with Plagues, that thee alone obay.
Fit I meet them
   Poet. Haile worthy Timon
   Pain. Our late Noble Master
   Timon. Haue I once liu'd
To see two honest men?
  Poet. Sir:
Hauing often of your open Bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retyr'd, your Friends falne off,
Whose thankelesse Natures (O abhorred Spirits)
Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large enough.
What, to you,
Whose Starre-like Noblenesse gaue life and influence
To their whole being? I am rapt, and cannot couet
The monstrous bulke of this Ingratitude
With any size of words
   Timon. Let it go,
Naked men may see't the better:
You that are honest, by being what you are,
Make them best seene, and knowne
   Pain. He, and my selfe
Haue trauail'd in the great showre of your guifts,
And sweetly felt it
   Timon. I, you are honest man
   Painter. We are hither come
To offer you our seruice
   Timon. Most honest men:
Why how shall I requite you?
Can you eate Roots, and drinke cold water, no?
  Both. What we can do,
Wee'l do to do you seruice
   Tim. Y'are honest men,
Y'haue heard that I haue Gold,
I am sure you haue, speake truth, y'are honest men
   Pain. So it is said my Noble Lord, but therefore
Came not my Friend, nor I
   Timon. Good honest men: Thou draw'st a counterfet
Best in all Athens, th'art indeed the best,
Thou counterfet'st most liuely
   Pain. So, so, my Lord
   Tim. E'ne so sir as I say. And for thy fiction,
Why thy Verse swels with stuffe so fine and smooth,
That thou art euen Naturall in thine Art.
But for all this (my honest Natur'd friends)
I must needs say you haue a little fault,
Marry 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
You take much paines to mend
   Both. Beseech your Honour
To make it knowne to vs
   Tim. You'l take it ill
   Both. Most thankefully, my Lord
   Timon. Will you indeed?
  Both. Doubt it not worthy Lord
   Tim. There's neuer a one of you but trusts a Knaue,
That mightily deceiues you
   Both. Do we, my Lord?
  Tim. I, and you heare him cogge,
See him dissemble,
Know his grosse patchery, loue him, feede him,
Keepe in your bosome, yet remaine assur'd
That he's a made-vp-Villaine
   Pain. I know none such, my Lord
   Poet. Nor I
   Timon. Looke you,
I loue you well, Ile giue you Gold
Rid me these Villaines from your companies;
Hang them, or stab them, drowne them in a draught,
Confound them by some course, and come to me,
Ile giue you Gold enough
   Both. Name them my Lord, let's know them
   Tim. You that way, and you this:
But two in Company:
Each man a part, all single, and alone,
Yet an arch Villaine keepes him company:
If where thou art, two Villaines shall not be,
Come not neere him. If thou would'st not recide
But where one Villaine is, then him abandon.
Hence, packe, there's Gold, you came for Gold ye slaues:
You haue worke for me; there's payment, hence,
You are an Alcumist, make Gold of that:
Out Rascall dogges.
Enter Steward, and two Senators.
  Stew. It is vaine that you would speake with Timon:
For he is set so onely to himselfe,
That nothing but himselfe, which lookes like man,
Is friendly with him
   1.Sen. Bring vs to his Caue.
It is our part and promise to th' Athenians
To speake with Timon
   2.Sen. At all times alike
Men are not still the same: 'twas Time and Greefes
That fram'd him thus. Time with his fairer hand,
Offering the Fortunes of his former dayes,
The former man may make him: bring vs to him
And chanc'd it as it may
   Stew. Heere is his Caue:
Peace and content be heere. Lord Timon, Timon,
Looke out, and speake to Friends: Th' Athenians
By two of their most reuerend Senate greet thee:
Speake to them Noble Timon.
Enter Timon out of his Caue.
  Tim. Thou Sunne that comforts burne,
Speake and be hang'd:
For each true word, a blister, and each false
Be as a Cantherizing to the root o'th' Tongue,
Consuming it with speaking
   1 Worthy Timon
   Tim. Of none but such as you,
And you of Timon
   1 The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon
   Tim. I thanke them,
And would send them backe the plague,
Could I but catch it for them
   1 O forget
What we are sorry for our selues in thee:
The Senators, with one consent of loue,
Intreate thee backe to Athens, who haue thought
On speciall Dignities, which vacant lye
For thy best vse and wearing
   2 They confesse
Toward thee, forgetfulnesse too generall grosse;
Which now the publike Body, which doth sildome
Play the recanter, feeling in it selfe
A lacke of Timons ayde, hath since withall
Of it owne fall, restraining ayde to Timon,
And send forth vs, to make their sorrowed render,
Together, with a recompence more fruitfull
Then their offence can weigh downe by the Dramme,
I euen such heapes and summes of Loue and Wealth,
As shall to thee blot out, what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their loue,
Euer to read them thine
   Tim. You witch me in it;
Surprize me to the very brinke of teares;
Lend me a Fooles heart, and a womans eyes,
And Ile beweepe these comforts, worthy Senators
   1 Therefore so please thee to returne with vs,
And of our Athens, thine and ours to take
The Captainship, thou shalt be met with thankes,
Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name
Liue with Authoritie: so soone we shall driue backe
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild,
Who like a Bore too sauage, doth root vp
His Countries peace
   2 And shakes his threatning Sword
Against the walles of Athens
   1 Therefore Timon
   Tim. Well sir, I will: therefore I will sir thus:
If Alcibiades kill my Countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
That Timon cares not. But if he sacke faire Athens,
And take our goodly aged men by'th' Beards,
Giuing our holy Virgins to the staine
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd warre:
Then let him know, and tell him Timon speakes it,
In pitty of our aged, and our youth,
I cannot choose but tell him that I care not,
And let him tak't at worst: For their Kniues care not,
While you haue throats to answer. For my selfe,
There's not a whittle, in th' vnruly Campe,
But I do prize it at my loue, before
The reuerends Throat in Athens. So I leaue you
To the protection of the prosperous Gods,
As Theeues to Keepers
   Stew. Stay not, all's in vaine
   Tim. Why I was writing of my Epitaph,
It will be seene to morrow. My long sicknesse
Of Health, and Liuing, now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things. Go, liue still,
Be Alcibiades your plague; you his,
And last so long enough
   1 We speake in vaine
   Tim. But yet I loue my Country, and am not
One that reioyces in the common wracke,
As common bruite doth put it
   1 That's well spoke
   Tim. Commend me to my louing Countreymen
   1 These words become your lippes as they passe thorow
   2 And enter in our eares, like great Triumphers
In their applauding gates
   Tim. Commend me to them,
And tell them, that to ease them of their greefes,
Their feares of Hostile strokes, their Aches losses,
Their pangs of Loue, with other incident throwes
That Natures fragile Vessell doth sustaine
In lifes vncertaine voyage, I will some kindnes do them,
Ile teach them to preuent wilde Alcibiades wrath
   1 I like this well, he will returne againe
   Tim. I haue a Tree which growes heere in my Close,
That mine owne vse inuites me to cut downe,
And shortly must I fell it. Tell my Friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that who so please
To stop Affliction, let him take his haste;
Come hither ere my Tree hath felt the Axe,
And hang himselfe. I pray you do my greeting
   Stew. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall
   Tim. Come not to me againe, but say to Athens,
Timon hath made his euerlasting Mansion
Vpon the Beached Verge of the salt Flood,
Who once a day with his embossed Froth
The turbulent Surge shall couer; thither come,
And let my graue-stone be your Oracle:
Lippes, let foure words go by, and Language end:
What is amisse, Plague and Infection mend.
Graues onely be mens workes, and Death their gaine;
Sunne, hide thy Beames, Timon hath done his Raigne.
  1 His discontents are vnremoueably coupled to Nature
   2 Our hope in him is dead: let vs returne,
And straine what other meanes is left vnto vs
In our deere perill
   1 It requires swift foot.
Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.
  1 Thou hast painfully discouer'd: are his Files
As full as thy report?
  Mes. I haue spoke the least.
Besides his expedition promises present approach
   2 We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon
   Mes. I met a Currier, one mine ancient Friend,
Whom though in generall part we were oppos'd,
Yet our old loue made a particular force,
And made vs speake like Friends. This man was riding
From Alcibiades to Timons Caue,
With Letters of intreaty, which imported
His Fellowship i'th' cause against your City,
In part for his sake mou'd.
Enter the other Senators.
  1 Heere come our Brothers
   3 No talke of Timon, nothing of him expect,
The Enemies Drumme is heard, and fearefull scouring
Doth choake the ayre with dust: In, and prepare,
Ours is the fall I feare, our Foes the Snare.
Enter a Souldier in the Woods, seeking Timon.
  Sol. By all description this should be the place.
Whose heere? Speake hoa. No answer? What is this?
Tymon is dead, who hath out-stretcht his span,
Some Beast reade this; There do's not liue a Man.
Dead sure, and this his Graue, what's on this Tomb,
I cannot read: the Charracter Ile take with wax,
Our Captaine hath in euery Figure skill;
An ag'd Interpreter, though yong in dayes:
Before proud Athens hee's set downe by this,
Whose fall the marke of his Ambition is.
Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers before Athens.
  Alc. Sound to this Coward, and lasciuious Towne,
Our terrible approach.
Sounds a Parly.
The Senators appeare vpon the wals.
Till now you haue gone on, and fill'd the time
With all Licentious measure, making your willes
The scope of Iustice. Till now, my selfe and such
As slept within the shadow of your power
Haue wander'd with our trauerst Armes, and breath'd
Our sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush,
When crouching Marrow in the bearer strong
Cries (of it selfe) no more: Now breathlesse wrong,
Shall sit and pant in your great Chaires of ease,
And pursie Insolence shall breake his winde
With feare and horrid flight
   1.Sen. Noble, and young;
When thy first greefes were but a meere conceit,
Ere thou had'st power, or we had cause of feare,
We sent to thee, to giue thy rages Balme,
To wipe out our Ingratitude, with Loues
Aboue their quantitie
   2 So did we wooe
Transformed Timon, to our Citties loue
By humble Message, and by promist meanes:
We were not all vnkinde, nor all deserue
The common stroke of warre
   1 These walles of ours,
Were not erected by their hands, from whom
You haue receyu'd your greefe: Nor are they such,
That these great Towres, Trophees, & Schools shold fall
For priuate faults in them
   2 Nor are they liuing
Who were the motiues that you first went out,
(Shame that they wanted, cunning in excesse)
Hath broke their hearts. March, Noble Lord,
Into our City with thy Banners spred,
By decimation and a tythed death;
If thy Reuenges hunger for that Food
Which Nature loathes, take thou the destin'd tenth,
And by the hazard of the spotted dye,
Let dye the spotted
   1 All haue not offended:
For those that were, it is not square to take
On those that are, Reuenge: Crimes, like Lands
Are not inherited, then deere Countryman,
Bring in thy rankes, but leaue without thy rage,
Spare thy Athenian Cradle, and those Kin
Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall
With those that haue offended, like a Shepheard,
Approach the Fold, and cull th' infected forth,
But kill not altogether
   2 What thou wilt,
Thou rather shalt inforce it with thy smile,
Then hew too't, with thy Sword
   1 Set but thy foot
Against our rampyr'd gates, and they shall ope:
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,
To say thou't enter Friendly
   2 Throw thy Gloue,
Or any Token of thine Honour else,
That thou wilt vse the warres as thy redresse,
And not as our Confusion: All thy Powers
Shall make their harbour in our Towne, till wee
Haue seal'd thy full desire
   Alc. Then there's my Gloue,
Defend and open your vncharged Ports,
Those Enemies of Timons, and mine owne
Whom you your selues shall set out for reproofe,
Fall and no more; and to attone your feares
With my more Noble meaning, not a man
Shall passe his quarter, or offend the streame
Of Regular Iustice in your Citties bounds,
But shall be remedied to your publique Lawes
At heauiest answer
   Both. 'Tis most Nobly spoken
   Alc. Descend, and keepe your words.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. My Noble Generall, Timon is dead,
Entomb'd vpon the very hemme o'th' Sea,
And on his Grauestone, this Insculpture which
With wax I brought away: whose soft Impression
Interprets for my poore ignorance.
Alcibiades reades the Epitaph.
Heere lies a wretched Coarse, of wretched Soule bereft,
Seek not my name: A Plague consume you, wicked Caitifs left:
Heere lye I Timon, who aliue, all liuing men did hate,
Passe by, and curse thy fill, but passe and stay not here thy gate.
These well expresse in thee thy latter spirits:
Though thou abhorrd'st in vs our humane griefes,
Scornd'st our Braines flow, and those our droplets, which
From niggard Nature fall; yet Rich Conceit
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weepe for aye
On thy low Graue, on faults forgiuen. Dead
Is Noble Timon, of whose Memorie
Heereafter more. Bring me into your Citie,
And I will vse the Oliue, with my Sword:
Make war breed peace; make peace stint war, make each
Prescribe to other, as each others Leach.
Let our Drummes strike.
THE ACTORS NAMES.
TYMON of Athens.
Lucius, And Lucullus, two Flattering Lords.
Appemantus, a Churlish Philosopher.
Sempronius another flattering Lord.
Alcibiades, an Athenian Captaine.
Certaine Theeues.
Flaminius, one of Tymons Seruants.
Seruilius, another.
Hortensis Seuerall Seruants to Vsurers.
Ventigius. one of Tymons false Friends.
Sempronius. With diuers other Seruants, And Attendants.
THE LIFE OF TYMON OF ATHENS.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Cymbeline
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Tragedie of Cymbeline.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Tragedie of Cymbeline
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter two Gentlemen.
  1.Gent. You do not meet a man but Frownes.
Our bloods no more obey the Heauens
Then our Courtiers:
Still seeme, as do's the Kings
   2 Gent. But what's the matter?
  1. His daughter, and the heire of's kingdome (whom
He purpos'd to his wiues sole Sonne, a Widdow
That late he married) hath referr'd her selfe
Vnto a poore, but worthy Gentleman. She's wedded,
Her Husband banish'd; she imprison'd, all
Is outward sorrow, though I thinke the King
Be touch'd at very heart
   2 None but the King?
  1 He that hath lost her too: so is the Queene,
That most desir'd the Match. But not a Courtier,
Although they weare their faces to the bent
Of the Kings lookes, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowle at
   2 And why so?
  1 He that hath miss'd the Princesse, is a thing
Too bad, for bad report: and he that hath her,
(I meane, that married her, alacke good man,
And therefore banish'd) is a Creature, such,
As to seeke through the Regions of the Earth
For one, his like; there would be something failing
In him, that should compare. I do not thinke,
So faire an Outward, and such stuffe Within
Endowes a man, but hee
   2 You speake him farre
   1 I do extend him (Sir) within himselfe,
Crush him together, rather then vnfold
His measure duly
   2 What's his name, and Birth?
  1 I cannot delue him to the roote: His Father
Was call'd Sicillius, who did ioyne his Honor
Against the Romanes, with Cassibulan,
But had his Titles by Tenantius, whom
He seru'd with Glory, and admir'd Successe:
So gain'd the Sur-addition, Leonatus.
And had (besides this Gentleman in question)
Two other Sonnes, who in the Warres o'th' time
Dy'de with their Swords in hand. For which, their Father
Then old, and fond of yssue, tooke such sorrow
That he quit Being; and his gentle Lady
Bigge of this Gentleman (our Theame) deceast
As he was borne. The King he takes the Babe
To his protection, cals him Posthumus Leonatus,
Breedes him, and makes him of his Bed-chamber,
Puts to him all the Learnings that his time
Could make him the receiuer of, which he tooke
As we do ayre, fast as 'twas ministred,
And in's Spring, became a Haruest: Liu'd in Court
(Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lou'd,
A sample to the yongest: to th' more Mature,
A glasse that feated them: and to the grauer,
A Childe that guided Dotards. To his Mistris,
(For whom he now is banish'd) her owne price
Proclaimes how she esteem'd him; and his Vertue
By her electio[n] may be truly read, what kind of man he is
   2 I honor him, euen out of your report.
But pray you tell me, is she sole childe to'th' King?
  1 His onely childe:
He had two Sonnes (if this be worth your hearing,
Marke it) the eldest of them, at three yeares old
I'th' swathing cloathes, the other from their Nursery
Were stolne, and to this houre, no ghesse in knowledge
Which way they went
   2 How long is this ago?
  1 Some twenty yeares
   2 That a Kings Children should be so conuey'd,
So slackely guarded, and the search so slow
That could not trace them
   1 Howsoere, 'tis strange,
Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at:
Yet is it true Sir
   2 I do well beleeue you
   1 We must forbeare. Heere comes the Gentleman,
The Queene, and Princesse.
Scena Secunda.
Enter the Queene, Posthumus, and Imogen.
  Qu. No, be assur'd you shall not finde me (Daughter)
After the slander of most Step-Mothers,
Euill-ey'd vnto you. You're my Prisoner, but
Your Gaoler shall deliuer you the keyes
That locke vp your restraint. For you Posthumus,
So soone as I can win th' offended King,
I will be knowne your Aduocate: marry yet
The fire of Rage is in him, and 'twere good
You lean'd vnto his Sentence, with what patience
Your wisedome may informe you
   Post. 'Please your Highnesse,
I will from hence to day
   Qu. You know the perill:
Ile fetch a turne about the Garden, pittying
The pangs of barr'd Affections, though the King
Hath charg'd you should not speake together.
  Imo. O dissembling Curtesie! How fine this Tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds? My deerest Husband,
I something feare my Fathers wrath, but nothing
(Alwayes reseru'd my holy duty) what
His rage can do on me. You must be gone,
And I shall heere abide the hourely shot
Of angry eyes: not comforted to liue,
But that there is this Iewell in the world,
That I may see againe
   Post. My Queene, my Mistris:
O Lady, weepe no more, least I giue cause
To be suspected of more tendernesse
Then doth become a man. I will remaine
The loyall'st husband, that did ere plight troth.
My residence in Rome, at one Filorio's,
Who, to my Father was a Friend, to me
Knowne but by Letter; thither write (my Queene)
And with mine eyes, Ile drinke the words you send,
Though Inke be made of Gall.
Enter Queene.
  Qu. Be briefe, I pray you:
If the King come, I shall incurre, I know not
How much of his displeasure: yet Ile moue him
To walke this way: I neuer do him wrong,
But he do's buy my Iniuries, to be Friends:
Payes deere for my offences
   Post. Should we be taking leaue
As long a terme as yet we haue to liue,
The loathnesse to depart, would grow: Adieu
   Imo. Nay, stay a little:
Were you but riding forth to ayre your selfe,
Such parting were too petty. Looke heere (Loue)
This Diamond was my Mothers; take it (Heart)
But keepe it till you woo another Wife,
When Imogen is dead
   Post. How, how? Another?
You gentle Gods, giue me but this I haue,
And seare vp my embracements from a next,
With bonds of death. Remaine, remaine thou heere,
While sense can keepe it on: And sweetest, fairest,
As I (my poore selfe) did exchange for you
To your so infinite losse; so in our trifles
I still winne of you. For my sake weare this,
It is a Manacle of Loue, Ile place it
Vpon this fayrest Prisoner
   Imo. O the Gods!
When shall we see againe?
Enter Cymbeline, and Lords.
  Post. Alacke, the King
   Cym. Thou basest thing, auoyd hence, from my sight:
If after this command thou fraught the Court
With thy vnworthinesse, thou dyest. Away,
Thou'rt poyson to my blood
   Post. The Gods protect you,
And blesse the good Remainders of the Court:
   Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharpe then this is
   Cym. O disloyall thing,
That should'st repayre my youth, thou heap'st
A yeares age on mee
   Imo. I beseech you Sir,
Harme not your selfe with your vexation,
I am senselesse of your Wrath; a Touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all feares
   Cym. Past Grace? Obedience?
  Imo. Past hope, and in dispaire, that way past Grace
   Cym. That might'st haue had
The sole Sonne of my Queene
   Imo. O blessed, that I might not: I chose an Eagle,
And did auoyd a Puttocke
   Cym. Thou took'st a Begger, would'st haue made my
Throne, a Seate for basenesse
   Imo. No, I rather added a lustre to it
   Cym. O thou vilde one!
It is your fault that I haue lou'd Posthumus:
You bred him as my Play-fellow, and he is
A man, worth any woman: Ouer-buyes mee
Almost the summe he payes
   Cym. What? art thou mad?
  Imo. Almost Sir: Heauen restore me: would I were
A Neat-heards Daughter, and my Leonatus
Our Neighbour-Shepheards Sonne.
Enter Queene.
  Cym. Thou foolish thing;
They were againe together: you haue done
Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her vp
   Qu. Beseech your patience: Peace
Deere Lady daughter, peace. Sweet Soueraigne,
Leaue vs to our selues, and make your self some comfort
Out of your best aduice
   Cym. Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day, and being aged
Dye of this Folly.
Enter Pisanio.
  Qu. Fye, you must giue way:
Heere is your Seruant. How now Sir? What newes?
  Pisa. My Lord your Sonne, drew on my Master
No harme I trust is done?
  Pisa. There might haue beene,
But that my Master rather plaid, then fought,
And had no helpe of Anger: they were parted
By Gentlemen, at hand
   Qu. I am very glad on't
   Imo. Your Son's my Fathers friend, he takes his part
To draw vpon an Exile. O braue Sir,
I would they were in Affricke both together,
My selfe by with a Needle, that I might pricke
The goer backe. Why came you from your Master?
  Pisa. On his command: he would not suffer mee
To bring him to the Hauen: left these Notes
Of what commands I should be subiect too,
When't pleas'd you to employ me
   Qu. This hath beene
Your faithfull Seruant: I dare lay mine Honour
He will remaine so
   Pisa. I humbly thanke your Highnesse
   Qu. Pray walke a-while
   Imo. About some halfe houre hence,
Pray you speake with me;
You shall (at least) go see my Lord aboord.
For this time leaue me.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Clotten, and two Lords.
  1. Sir, I would aduise you to shift a Shirt; the Violence
of Action hath made you reek as a Sacrifice: where
ayre comes out, ayre comes in: There's none abroad so
wholesome as that you vent
   Clot. If my Shirt were bloody, then to shift it.
Haue I hurt him?
  2 No faith: not so much as his patience
   1 Hurt him? His bodie's a passable Carkasse if he bee
not hurt. It is a through-fare for Steele if it be not hurt
   2 His Steele was in debt, it went o'th' Backe-side the
   Clot. The Villaine would not stand me
   2 No, but he fled forward still, toward your face
   1 Stand you? you haue Land enough of your owne:
But he added to your hauing, gaue you some ground
   2 As many Inches, as you haue Oceans (Puppies.)
  Clot. I would they had not come betweene vs
   2 So would I, till you had measur'd how long a Foole
you were vpon the ground
   Clot. And that shee should loue this Fellow, and refuse
   2 If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damn'd
   1 Sir, as I told you alwayes: her Beauty & her Braine
go not together. Shee's a good signe, but I haue seene
small reflection of her wit
   2 She shines not vpon Fooles, least the reflection
Should hurt her
   Clot. Come, Ile to my Chamber: would there had
beene some hurt done
   2 I wish not so, vnlesse it had bin the fall of an Asse,
which is no great hurt
   Clot. You'l go with vs?
  1 Ile attend your Lordship
   Clot. Nay come, let's go together
   2 Well my Lord.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Imogen, and Pisanio.
  Imo. I would thou grew'st vnto the shores o'th' Hauen,
And questioned'st euery Saile: if he should write,
And I not haue it, 'twere a Paper lost
As offer'd mercy is: What was the last
That he spake to thee?
  Pisa. It was his Queene, his Queene
   Imo. Then wau'd his Handkerchiefe?
  Pisa. And kist it, Madam
   Imo. Senselesse Linnen, happier therein then I:
And that was all?
  Pisa. No Madam: for so long
As he could make me with his eye, or eare,
Distinguish him from others, he did keepe
The Decke, with Gloue, or Hat, or Handkerchife,
Still wauing, as the fits and stirres of's mind
Could best expresse how slow his Soule sayl'd on,
How swift his Ship
   Imo. Thou should'st haue made him
As little as a Crow, or lesse, ere left
To after-eye him
   Pisa. Madam, so I did
   Imo. I would haue broke mine eye-strings;
Crack'd them, but to looke vpon him, till the diminution
Of space, had pointed him sharpe as my Needle:
Nay, followed him, till he had melted from
The smalnesse of a Gnat, to ayre: and then
Haue turn'd mine eye, and wept. But good Pisanio,
When shall we heare from him
   Pisa. Be assur'd Madam,
With his next vantage
   Imo. I did not take my leaue of him, but had
Most pretty things to say: Ere I could tell him
How I would thinke on him at certaine houres,
Such thoughts, and such: Or I could make him sweare,
The Shees of Italy should not betray
Mine Interest, and his Honour: or haue charg'd him
At the sixt houre of Morne, at Noone, at Midnight,
T' encounter me with Orisons, for then
I am in Heauen for him: Or ere I could,
Giue him that parting kisse, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my Father,
And like the Tyrannous breathing of the North,
Shakes all our buddes from growing.
Enter a Lady.
  La. The Queene (Madam)
Desires your Highnesse Company
   Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd,
I will attend the Queene
   Pisa. Madam, I shall.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Philario, Iachimo: a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a
  Iach. Beleeue it Sir, I haue seene him in Britaine; hee
was then of a Cressent note, expected to proue so woorthy,
as since he hath beene allowed the name of. But I
could then haue look'd on him, without the help of Admiration,
though the Catalogue of his endowments had
bin tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by Items
   Phil. You speake of him when he was lesse furnish'd,
then now hee is, with that which makes him both without,
   French. I haue seene him in France: wee had very many
there, could behold the Sunne, with as firme eyes as
   Iach. This matter of marrying his Kings Daughter,
wherein he must be weighed rather by her valew, then
his owne, words him (I doubt not) a great deale from the
   French. And then his banishment
   Iach. I, and the approbation of those that weepe this
lamentable diuorce vnder her colours, are wonderfully
to extend him, be it but to fortifie her iudgement, which
else an easie battery might lay flat, for taking a Begger
without lesse quality. But how comes it, he is to soiourne
with you? How creepes acquaintance?
  Phil. His Father and I were Souldiers together, to
whom I haue bin often bound for no lesse then my life.
Enter Posthumus.
Heere comes the Britaine. Let him be so entertained among'st
you, as suites with Gentlemen of your knowing,
to a Stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better
knowne to this Gentleman, whom I commend to you,
as a Noble Friend of mine. How Worthy he is, I will
leaue to appeare hereafter, rather then story him in his
owne hearing
   French. Sir, we haue knowne togither in Orleance
   Post. Since when, I haue bin debtor to you for courtesies,
which I will be euer to pay, and yet pay still
   French. Sir, you o're-rate my poore kindnesse, I was
glad I did attone my Countryman and you: it had beene
pitty you should haue beene put together, with so mortall
a purpose, as then each bore, vpon importance of so
slight and triuiall a nature
   Post. By your pardon Sir, I was then a young Traueller,
rather shun'd to go euen with what I heard, then in
my euery action to be guided by others experiences: but
vpon my mended iudgement (if I offend to say it is mended)
my Quarrell was not altogether slight
   French. Faith yes, to be put to the arbiterment of
Swords, and by such two, that would by all likelyhood
haue confounded one the other, or haue falne both
   Iach. Can we with manners, aske what was the difference?
  French. Safely, I thinke, 'twas a contention in publicke,
which may (without contradiction) suffer the report.
It was much like an argument that fell out last
night, where each of vs fell in praise of our Country-Mistresses.
This Gentleman, at that time vouching (and
vpon warrant of bloody affirmation) his to be more
Faire, Vertuous, Wise, Chaste, Constant, Qualified, and
lesse attemptible then any, the rarest of our Ladies in
   Iach. That Lady is not now liuing; or this Gentlemans
opinion by this, worne out
   Post. She holds her Vertue still, and I my mind
   Iach. You must not so farre preferre her, 'fore ours of
   Posth. Being so farre prouok'd as I was in France: I
would abate her nothing, though I professe my selfe her
Adorer, not her Friend
   Iach. As faire, and as good: a kind of hand in hand
comparison, had beene something too faire, and too
good for any Lady in Britanie; if she went before others.
I haue seene as that Diamond of yours out-lusters many
I haue beheld, I could not beleeue she excelled many:
but I haue not seene the most pretious Diamond that is,
nor you the Lady
   Post. I prais'd her, as I rated her: so do I my Stone
   Iach. What do you esteeme it at?
  Post. More then the world enioyes
   Iach. Either your vnparagon'd Mistris is dead, or
she's out-priz'd by a trifle
   Post. You are mistaken: the one may be solde or giuen,
or if there were wealth enough for the purchases, or
merite for the guift. The other is not a thing for sale,
and onely the guift of the Gods
   Iach. Which the Gods haue giuen you?
  Post. Which by their Graces I will keepe
   Iach. You may weare her in title yours: but you
know strange Fowle light vpon neighbouring Ponds.
Your Ring may be stolne too, so your brace of vnprizeable
Estimations, the one is but fraile, and the other Casuall;
A cunning Thiefe, or a (that way) accomplish'd
Courtier, would hazzard the winning both of first and
   Post. Your Italy, containes none so accomplish'd a
Courtier to conuince the Honour of my Mistris: if in the
holding or losse of that, you terme her fraile, I do nothing
doubt you haue store of Theeues, notwithstanding
I feare not my Ring
   Phil. Let vs leaue heere, Gentlemen?
  Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy Signior I
thanke him, makes no stranger of me, we are familiar at
   Iach. With fiue times so much conuersation, I should
get ground of your faire Mistris; make her go backe, euen
to the yeilding, had I admittance, and opportunitie
   Post. No, no
   Iach. I dare thereupon pawne the moytie of my Estate,
to your Ring, which in my opinion o're-values it
something: but I make my wager rather against your
Confidence, then her Reputation. And to barre your offence
heerein to, I durst attempt it against any Lady in
   Post. You are a great deale abus'd in too bold a perswasion,
and I doubt not you sustaine what y'are worthy
of, by your Attempt
   Iach. What's that?
  Posth. A Repulse though your Attempt (as you call
it) deserue more; a punishment too
   Phi. Gentlemen enough of this, it came in too sodainely,
let it dye as it was borne, and I pray you be better
   Iach. Would I had put my Estate, and my Neighbors
on th' approbation of what I haue spoke
   Post. What Lady would you chuse to assaile?
  Iach. Yours, whom in constancie you thinke stands
so safe. I will lay you ten thousands Duckets to your
Ring, that commend me to the Court where your Lady
is, with no more aduantage then the opportunitie of a
second conference, and I will bring from thence, that
Honor of hers, which you imagine so reseru'd
   Posthmus. I will wage against your Gold, Gold to
it: My Ring I holde deere as my finger, 'tis part of
   Iach. You are a Friend, and there in the wiser: if you
buy Ladies flesh at a Million a Dram, you cannot preserue
it from tainting; but I see you haue some Religion
in you, that you feare
   Posthu. This is but a custome in your tongue: you
beare a grauer purpose I hope
   Iach. I am the Master of my speeches, and would vnder-go
what's spoken, I sweare
   Posthu. Will you? I shall but lend my Diamond till
your returne: let there be Couenants drawne between's.
My Mistris exceedes in goodnesse, the hugenesse of your
vnworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: heere's my
   Phil. I will haue it no lay
   Iach. By the Gods it is one: if I bring you no sufficient
testimony that I haue enioy'd the deerest bodily
part of your Mistris: my ten thousand Duckets are yours,
so is your Diamond too: if I come off, and leaue her in
such honour as you haue trust in; Shee your Iewell, this
your Iewell, and my Gold are yours: prouided, I haue
your commendation, for my more free entertainment
   Post. I embrace these Conditions, let vs haue Articles
betwixt vs: onely thus farre you shall answere, if you
make your voyage vpon her, and giue me directly to vnderstand,
you haue preuayl'd, I am no further your Enemy,
shee is not worth our debate. If shee remaine vnseduc'd,
you not making it appeare otherwise: for your ill
opinion, and th' assault you haue made to her chastity, you
shall answer me with your Sword
   Iach. Your hand, a Couenant: wee will haue these
things set downe by lawfull Counsell, and straight away
for Britaine, least the Bargaine should catch colde, and
sterue: I will fetch my Gold, and haue our two Wagers
   Post. Agreed
   French. Will this hold, thinke you
   Phil. Signior Iachimo will not from it.
Pray let vs follow 'em.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Queene, Ladies, and Cornelius.
  Qu. Whiles yet the dewe's on ground,
Gather those Flowers,
Make haste. Who ha's the note of them?
  Lady. I Madam
   Queen. Dispatch.
Exit Ladies.
Now Master Doctor, haue you brought those drugges?
  Cor. Pleaseth your Highnes, I: here they are, Madam:
But I beseech your Grace, without offence
(My Conscience bids me aske) wherefore you haue
Commanded of me these most poysonous Compounds,
Which are the moouers of a languishing death:
But though slow, deadly
   Qu. I wonder, Doctor,
Thou ask'st me such a Question: Haue I not bene
Thy Pupill long? Hast thou not learn'd me how
To make Perfumes? Distill? Preserue? Yea so,
That our great King himselfe doth woo me oft
For my Confections? Hauing thus farre proceeded,
(Vnlesse thou think'st me diuellish) is't not meete
That I did amplifie my iudgement in
Other Conclusions? I will try the forces
Of these thy Compounds, on such Creatures as
We count not worth the hanging (but none humane)
To try the vigour of them, and apply
Allayments to their Act, and by them gather
Their seuerall vertues, and effects
   Cor. Your Highnesse
Shall from this practise, but make hard your heart:
Besides, the seeing these effects will be
Both noysome, and infectious
   Qu. O content thee.
Enter Pisanio.
Heere comes a flattering Rascall, vpon him
Will I first worke: Hee's for his Master,
And enemy to my Sonne. How now Pisanio?
Doctor, your seruice for this time is ended,
Take your owne way
   Cor. I do suspect you, Madam,
But you shall do no harme
   Qu. Hearke thee, a word
   Cor. I do not like her. She doth thinke she ha's
Strange ling'ring poysons: I do know her spirit,
And will not trust one of her malice, with
A drugge of such damn'd Nature. Those she ha's,
Will stupifie and dull the Sense a-while,
Which first (perchance) shee'l proue on Cats and Dogs,
Then afterward vp higher: but there is
No danger in what shew of death it makes,
More then the locking vp the Spirits a time,
To be more fresh, reuiuing. She is fool'd
With a most false effect: and I, the truer,
So to be false with her
   Qu. No further seruice, Doctor,
Vntill I send for thee
   Cor. I humbly take my leaue.
  Qu. Weepes she still (saist thou?)
Dost thou thinke in time
She will not quench, and let instructions enter
Where Folly now possesses? Do thou worke:
When thou shalt bring me word she loues my Sonne,
Ile tell thee on the instant, thou art then
As great as is thy Master: Greater, for
His Fortunes all lye speechlesse, and his name
Is at last gaspe. Returne he cannot, nor
Continue where he is: To shift his being,
Is to exchange one misery with another,
And euery day that comes, comes to decay
A dayes worke in him. What shalt thou expect
To be depender on a thing that leanes?
Who cannot be new built, nor ha's no Friends
So much, as but to prop him? Thou tak'st vp
Thou know'st not what: But take it for thy labour,
It is a thing I made, which hath the King
Fiue times redeem'd from death. I do not know
What is more Cordiall. Nay, I prythee take it,
It is an earnest of a farther good
That I meane to thee. Tell thy Mistris how
The case stands with her: doo't, as from thy selfe;
Thinke what a chance thou changest on, but thinke
Thou hast thy Mistris still, to boote, my Sonne,
Who shall take notice of thee. Ile moue the King
To any shape of thy Preferment, such
As thou'lt desire: and then my selfe, I cheefely,
That set thee on to this desert, am bound
To loade thy merit richly. Call my women.
Thinke on my words. A slye, and constant knaue,
Not to be shak'd: the Agent for his Master,
And the Remembrancer of her, to hold
The hand-fast to her Lord. I haue giuen him that,
Which if he take, shall quite vnpeople her
Of Leidgers for her Sweete: and which, she after
Except she bend her humor, shall be assur'd
To taste of too.
Enter Pisanio, and Ladies.
So, so: Well done, well done:
The Violets, Cowslippes, and the Prime-Roses
Beare to my Closset: Fare thee well, Pisanio.
Thinke on my words.
Exit Qu. and Ladies
  Pisa. And shall do:
But when to my good Lord, I proue vntrue,
Ile choake my selfe: there's all Ile do for you.
Scena Septima.
Enter Imogen alone.
  Imo. A Father cruell, and a Stepdame false,
A Foolish Suitor to a Wedded-Lady,
That hath her Husband banish'd: O, that Husband,
My supreame Crowne of griefe, and those repeated
Vexations of it. Had I bin Theefe-stolne,
As my two Brothers, happy: but most miserable
Is the desires that's glorious. Blessed be those
How meane so ere, that haue their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fye.
Enter Pisanio, and Iachimo.
  Pisa. Madam, a Noble Gentleman of Rome,
Comes from my Lord with Letters
   Iach. Change you, Madam:
The Worthy Leonatus is in safety,
And greetes your Highnesse deerely
   Imo. Thanks good Sir,
You're kindly welcome
   Iach. All of her, that is out of doore, most rich:
If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare
She is alone th' Arabian-Bird; and I
Haue lost the wager. Boldnesse be my Friend:
Arme me Audacitie from head to foote,
Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight,
Rather directly fly
   Imogen reads. He is one of the Noblest note, to whose
kindnesses I am
most infinitely
tied. Reflect vpon him accordingly, as you value your
trust. Leonatus.
So farre I reade aloud.
But euen the very middle of my heart
Is warm'd by'th' rest, and take it thankefully.
You are as welcome (worthy Sir) as I
Haue words to bid you, and shall finde it so
In all that I can do
   Iach. Thankes fairest Lady:
What are men mad? Hath Nature giuen them eyes
To see this vaulted Arch, and the rich Crop
Of Sea and Land, which can distinguish 'twixt
The firie Orbes aboue, and the twinn'd Stones
Vpon the number'd Beach, and can we not
Partition make with Spectacles so pretious
Twixt faire, and foule?
  Imo. What makes your admiration?
  Iach. It cannot be i'th' eye: for Apes, and Monkeys
'Twixt two such She's, would chatter this way, and
Contemne with mowes the other. Nor i'th' iudgment:
For Idiots in this case of fauour, would
Be wisely definit: Nor i'th' Appetite.
Sluttery to such neate Excellence, oppos'd
Should make desire vomit emptinesse,
Not so allur'd to feed
   Imo. What is the matter trow?
  Iach. The Cloyed will:
That satiate yet vnsatisfi'd desire, that Tub
Both fill'd and running: Rauening first the Lambe,
Longs after for the Garbage
   Imo. What, deere Sir,
Thus rap's you? Are you well?
  Iach. Thanks Madam well: Beseech you Sir,
Desire my Man's abode, where I did leaue him:
He's strange and peeuish
   Pisa. I was going Sir,
To giue him welcome.
  Imo. Continues well my Lord?
His health beseech you?
  Iach. Well, Madam
   Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is
   Iach. Exceeding pleasant: none a stranger there,
So merry, and so gamesome: he is call'd
The Britaine Reueller
   Imo. When he was heere
He did incline to sadnesse, and oft times
Not knowing why
   Iach. I neuer saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his Companion, one
An eminent Monsieur, that it seemes much loues
A Gallian-Girle at home. He furnaces
The thicke sighes from him; whiles the iolly Britaine,
(Your Lord I meane) laughes from's free lungs: cries oh,
Can my sides hold, to think that man who knowes
By History, Report, or his owne proofe
What woman is, yea what she cannot choose
But must be: will's free houres languish:
For assured bondage?
  Imo. Will my Lord say so?
  Iach. I Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter,
It is a Recreation to be by
And heare him mocke the Frenchman:
But Heauen's know some men are much too blame
   Imo. Not he I hope
   Iach. Not he:
But yet Heauen's bounty towards him, might
Be vs'd more thankfully. In himselfe 'tis much;
In you, which I account his beyond all Talents.
Whil'st I am bound to wonder, I am bound
To pitty too
   Imo. What do you pitty Sir?
  Iach. Two Creatures heartyly
   Imo. Am I one Sir?
You looke on me: what wrack discerne you in me
Deserues your pitty?
  Iach. Lamentable: what
To hide me from the radiant Sun, and solace
I'th' Dungeon by a Snuffe
   Imo. I pray you Sir,
Deliuer with more opennesse your answeres
To my demands. Why do you pitty me?
  Iach. That others do,
(I was about to say) enioy your- but
It is an office of the Gods to venge it,
Not mine to speake on't
   Imo. You do seeme to know
Something of me, or what concernes me; pray you
Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Then to be sure they do. For Certainties
Either are past remedies; or timely knowing,
The remedy then borne. Discouer to me
What both you spur and stop
   Iach. Had I this cheeke
To bathe my lips vpon: this hand, whose touch,
(Whose euery touch) would force the Feelers soule
To'th' oath of loyalty. This obiect, which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fiering it onely heere, should I (damn'd then)
Slauuer with lippes as common as the stayres
That mount the Capitoll: Ioyne gripes, with hands
Made hard with hourely falshood (falshood as
With labour:) then by peeping in an eye
Base and illustrious as the smoakie light
That's fed with stinking Tallow: it were fit
That all the plagues of Hell should at one time
Encounter such reuolt
   Imo. My Lord, I feare
Has forgot Brittaine
   Iach. And himselfe, not I
Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce
The Beggery of his change: but 'tis your Graces
That from my mutest Conscience, to my tongue,
Charmes this report out
   Imo. Let me heare no more
   Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart
With pitty, that doth make me sicke. A Lady
So faire, and fasten'd to an Emperie
Would make the great'st King double, to be partner'd
With Tomboyes hyr'd, with that selfe exhibition
Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas'd ventures
That play with all Infirmities for Gold,
Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffe
As well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd,
Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and you
Recoyle from your great Stocke
   Imo. Reueng'd:
How should I be reueng'd? If this be true,
(As I haue such a Heart, that both mine eares
Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,
How should I be reueng'd?
  Iach. Should he make me
Liue like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable Rampes
In your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it.
I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure,
More Noble then that runnagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your Affection,
Still close, as sure
   Imo. What hoa, Pisanio?
  Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes
   Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haue
So long attended thee. If thou wert Honourable
Thou would'st haue told this tale for Vertue, not
For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange:
Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as farre
From thy report, as thou from Honor: and
Solicites heere a Lady, that disdaines
Thee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio?
The King my Father shall be made acquainted
Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit,
A sawcy Stranger in his Court, to Mart
As in a Romish Stew, and to expound
His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court
He little cares for, and a Daughter, who
He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?
  Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say,
The credit that thy Lady hath of thee
Deserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesse
Her assur'd credit. Blessed liue you long,
A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euer
Country call'd his; and you his Mistris, onely
For the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon,
I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance
Were deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord,
That which he is, new o're: And he is one
The truest manner'd: such a holy Witch,
That he enchants Societies into him:
Halfe all men hearts are his
   Imo. You make amends
   Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a defended God;
He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off,
More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie
(Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur'd
To try your taking of a false report, which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement,
In the election of a Sir, so rare,
Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him,
Made me to fan you thus, but the Gods made you
(Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon
   Imo. All's well Sir:
Take my powre i'th' Court for yours
   Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgot
T' intreat your Grace, but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concernes:
Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble Friends
Are partners in the businesse
   Imo. Pray what is't?
  Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord
(The best Feather of our wing) haue mingled summes
To buy a Present for the Emperor:
Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue done
In France: 'tis Plate of rare deuice, and Iewels
Of rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes great,
And I am something curious, being strange
To haue them in safe stowage: May it please you
To take them in protection
   Imo. Willingly:
And pawne mine Honor for their safety, since
My Lord hath interest in them, I will keepe them
In my Bed-chamber
   Iach. They are in a Trunke
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, onely for this night:
I must aboord to morrow
   Imo. O no, no
   Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word
By length'ning my returne. From Gallia,
I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promise
To see your Grace
   Imo. I thanke you for your paines:
But not away to morrow
   Iach. O I must Madam.
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your Lord with writing, doo't to night,
I haue out-stood my time, which is materiall
To'th' tender of our Present
   Imo. I will write:
Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept,
And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.
  Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist
the Iacke vpon an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hundred
pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke-an-Apes,
must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed mine
oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure
   1. What got he by that? you haue broke his pate
with your Bowle
   2. If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would
haue run all out
   Clot. When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is
not for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?
  2. No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them
   Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would
he had bin one of my Ranke
   2. To haue smell'd like a Foole
   Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in th' earth: a
pox on't I had rather not be so Noble as I am: they dare
not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mother:
euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting,
and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body
   2. You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow
Cock, with your combe on
   Clot. Sayest thou?
  2. It is not fit your Lordship should vndertake euery
Companion, that you giue offence too
   Clot. No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit
offence to my inferiors
   2. I, it is fit for your Lordship onely
   Clot. Why so I say
   1. Did you heere of a Stranger that's come to Court
  Clot. A Stranger, and I not know on't?
  2. He's a strange Fellow himselfe, and knowes it not
   1. There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of
Leonatus Friends
   Clot. Leonatus? A banisht Rascall; and he's another,
whatsoeuer he be. Who told you of this Stranger?
  1. One of your Lordships Pages
   Clot. Is it fit I went to looke vpon him? Is there no
derogation in't?
  2. You cannot derogate my Lord
   Clot. Not easily I thinke
   2. You are a Foole graunted, therefore your Issues
being foolish do not derogate
   Clot. Come, Ile go see this Italian: what I haue lost
to day at Bowles, Ile winne to night of him. Come: go
   2. Ile attend your Lordship.
That such a craftie Diuell as is his Mother
Should yeild the world this Asse: A woman, that
Beares all downe with her Braine, and this her Sonne,
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leaue eighteene. Alas poore Princesse,
Thou diuine Imogen, what thou endur'st,
Betwixt a Father by thy Step-dame gouern'd,
A Mother hourely coyning plots: A Wooer,
More hatefull then the foule expulsion is
Of thy deere Husband. Then that horrid Act
Of the diuorce, heel'd make the Heauens hold firme
The walls of thy deere Honour. Keepe vnshak'd
That Temple thy faire mind, that thou maist stand
T' enioy thy banish'd Lord: and this great Land.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady.
  Imo. Who's there? My woman: Helene?
  La. Please you Madam
   Imo. What houre is it?
  Lady. Almost midnight, Madam
   Imo. I haue read three houres then:
Mine eyes are weake,
Fold downe the leafe where I haue left: to bed.
Take not away the Taper, leaue it burning:
And if thou canst awake by foure o'th' clock,
I prythee call me: Sleepe hath ceiz'd me wholly.
To your protection I commend me, Gods,
From Fayries, and the Tempters of the night,
Guard me beseech yee.
Iachimo from the Trunke.
  Iach. The Crickets sing, and mans ore-labor'd sense
Repaires it selfe by rest: Our Tarquine thus
Did softly presse the Rushes, ere he waken'd
The Chastitie he wounded. Cytherea,
How brauely thou becom'st thy Bed; fresh Lilly,
And whiter then the Sheetes: that I might touch,
But kisse, one kisse. Rubies vnparagon'd,
How deerely they doo't: 'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o'th' Taper
Bowes toward her, and would vnder-peepe her lids.
To see th' inclosed Lights, now Canopied
Vnder these windowes, White and Azure lac'd
With Blew of Heauens owne tinct. But my designe.
To note the Chamber, I will write all downe,
Such, and such pictures: There the window, such
Th' adornement of her Bed; the Arras, Figures,
Why such, and such: and the Contents o'th' Story.
Ah, but some naturall notes about her Body,
Aboue ten thousand meaner Moueables
Would testifie, t' enrich mine Inuentorie.
O sleepe, thou Ape of death, lye dull vpon her,
And be her Sense but as a Monument,
Thus in a Chappell lying. Come off, come off;
As slippery as the Gordian-knot was hard.
'Tis mine, and this will witnesse outwardly,
As strongly as the Conscience do's within:
To'th' madding of her Lord. On her left brest
A mole Cinque-spotted: Like the Crimson drops
I'th' bottome of a Cowslippe. Heere's a Voucher,
Stronger then euer Law could make; this Secret
Will force him thinke I haue pick'd the lock, and t'ane
The treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end?
Why should I write this downe, that's riueted,
Screw'd to my memorie. She hath bin reading late,
The Tale of Tereus, heere the leaffe's turn'd downe
Where Philomele gaue vp. I haue enough,
To'th' Truncke againe, and shut the spring of it.
Swift, swift, you Dragons of the night, that dawning
May beare the Rauens eye: I lodge in feare,
Though this a heauenly Angell: hell is heere.
Clocke strikes
One, two, three: time, time.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Clotten, and Lords.
  1. Your Lordship is the most patient man in losse, the
most coldest that euer turn'd vp Ace
   Clot. It would make any man cold to loose
   1. But not euery man patient after the noble temper
of your Lordship; You are most hot, and furious when
Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get
this foolish Imogen, I should haue Gold enough: it's almost
morning, is't not?
  1 Day, my Lord
   Clot. I would this Musicke would come: I am aduised
to giue her Musicke a mornings, they say it will penetrate.
Enter Musitians.
Come on, tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering,
so: wee'l try with tongue too: if none will do, let
her remaine: but Ile neuer giue o're. First, a very excellent
good conceyted thing; after a wonderful sweet aire,
with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consider.
Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heauens gate sings,
and Phoebus gins arise,
His Steeds to water at those Springs
on chalic'd Flowres that lyes:
And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their Golden eyes
With euery thing that pretty is, my Lady sweet arise:
Arise, arise.
So, get you gone: if this penetrate, I will consider your
Musicke the better: if it do not, it is a voyce in her eares
which Horse-haires, and Calues-guts, nor the voyce of
vnpaued Eunuch to boot, can neuer amend.
Enter Cymbaline, and Queene.
  2 Heere comes the King
   Clot. I am glad I was vp so late, for that's the reason
I was vp so earely: he cannot choose but take this Seruice
I haue done, fatherly. Good morrow to your Maiesty,
and to my gracious Mother
   Cym. Attend you here the doore of our stern daughter
Will she not forth?
  Clot. I haue assayl'd her with Musickes, but she vouchsafes
   Cym. The Exile of her Minion is too new,
She hath not yet forgot him, some more time
Must weare the print of his remembrance on't,
And then she's yours
   Qu. You are most bound to'th' King,
Who let's go by no vantages, that may
Preferre you to his daughter: Frame your selfe
To orderly solicity, and be friended
With aptnesse of the season: make denials
Encrease your Seruices: so seeme, as if
You were inspir'd to do those duties which
You tender to her: that you in all obey her,
Saue when command to your dismission tends,
And therein you are senselesse
   Clot. Senselesse? Not so
   Mes. So like you (Sir) Ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius
   Cym. A worthy Fellow,
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now;
But that's no fault of his: we must receyue him
According to the Honor of his Sender,
And towards himselfe, his goodnesse fore-spent on vs
We must extend our notice: Our deere Sonne,
When you haue giuen good morning to your Mistris,
Attend the Queene, and vs, we shall haue neede
T' employ you towards this Romane.
Come our Queene.
  Clot. If she be vp, Ile speake with her: if not
Let her lye still, and dreame: by your leaue hoa,
I know her women are about her: what
If I do line one of their hands, 'tis Gold
Which buyes admittance (oft it doth) yea, and makes
Diana's Rangers false themselues, yeeld vp
Their Deere to'th' stand o'th' Stealer: and 'tis Gold
Which makes the True-man kill'd, and saues the Theefe:
Nay, sometime hangs both Theefe, and True-man: what
Can it not do, and vndoo? I will make
One of her women Lawyer to me, for
I yet not vnderstand the case my selfe.
By your leaue.
Enter a Lady.
  La. Who's there that knockes?
  Clot. A Gentleman
   La. No more
   Clot. Yes, and a Gentlewomans Sonne
   La. That's more
Then some whose Taylors are as deere as yours,
Can iustly boast of: what's your Lordships pleasure?
  Clot. Your Ladies person, is she ready?
  La. I, to keepe her Chamber
   Clot. There is Gold for you,
Sell me your good report
   La. How, my good name? or to report of you
What I shall thinke is good. The Princesse.
Enter Imogen.
  Clot. Good morrow fairest, Sister your sweet hand
   Imo. Good morrow Sir, you lay out too much paines
For purchasing but trouble: the thankes I giue,
Is telling you that I am poore of thankes,
And scarse can spare them
   Clot. Still I sweare I loue you
   Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deepe with me:
If you sweare still, your recompence is still
That I regard it not
   Clot. This is no answer
   Imo. But that you shall not say, I yeeld being silent,
I would not speake. I pray you spare me, 'faith
I shall vnfold equall discourtesie
To your best kindnesse: one of your great knowing
Should learne (being taught) forbearance
   Clot. To leaue you in your madnesse, 'twere my sin,
   Imo. Fooles are not mad Folkes
   Clot. Do you call me Foole?
  Imo. As I am mad I do:
If you'l be patient, Ile no more be mad,
That cures vs both. I am much sorry (Sir)
You put me to forget a Ladies manners
By being so verball: and learne now, for all,
That I which know my heart, do heere pronounce
By th' very truth of it, I care not for you,
And am so neere the lacke of Charitie
To accuse my selfe, I hate you: which I had rather
You felt, then make't my boast
   Clot. You sinne against
Obedience, which you owe your Father, for
The Contract you pretend with that base Wretch,
One, bred of Almes, and foster'd with cold dishes,
With scraps o'th' Court: It is no Contract, none;
And though it be allowed in meaner parties
(Yet who then he more meane) to knit their soules
(On whom there is no more dependancie
But Brats and Beggery) in selfe-figur'd knot,
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement, by
The consequence o'th' Crowne, and must not foyle
The precious note of it; with a base Slaue,
A Hilding for a Liuorie, a Squires Cloth,
A Pantler; not so eminent
   Imo. Prophane Fellow:
Wert thou the Sonne of Iupiter, and no more,
But what thou art besides: thou wer't too base,
To be his Groome: thou wer't dignified enough
Euen to the point of Enuie. If 'twere made
Comparatiue for your Vertues, to be stil'd
The vnder Hangman of his Kingdome; and hated
For being prefer'd so well
   Clot. The South-Fog rot him
   Imo. He neuer can meete more mischance, then come
To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st Garment
That euer hath but clipt his body; is dearer
In my respect, then all the Heires aboue thee,
Were they all made such men: How now Pisanio?
Enter Pisanio.
  Clot. His Garments? Now the diuell
   Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently
   Clot. His Garment?
  Imo. I am sprighted with a Foole,
Frighted, and angred worse: Go bid my woman
Search for a Iewell, that too casually
Hath left mine Arme: it was thy Masters. Shrew me
If I would loose it for a Reuenew,
Of any Kings in Europe. I do think,
I saw't this morning: Confident I am.
Last night 'twas on mine Arme; I kiss'd it,
I hope it be not gone, to tell my Lord
That I kisse aught but he
   Pis. 'Twill not be lost
   Imo. I hope so: go and search
   Clot. You haue abus'd me:
His meanest Garment?
  Imo. I, I said so Sir,
If you will make't an Action, call witnesse to't
   Clot. I will enforme your Father
   Imo. Your Mother too:
She's my good Lady; and will concieue, I hope
But the worst of me. So I leaue you Sir,
To'th' worst of discontent.
  Clot. Ile be reueng'd:
His mean'st Garment? Well.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Posthumus, and Philario.
  Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure
To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour
Will remaine her's
   Phil. What meanes do you make to him?
  Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time,
Quake in the present winters state, and wish
That warmer dayes would come: In these fear'd hope
I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling
I must die much your debtor
   Phil. Your very goodnesse, and your company,
Ore-payes all I can do. By this your King,
Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius,
Will do's Commission throughly. And I think
Hee'le grant the Tribute: send th' Arrerages,
Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance
Is yet fresh in their griefe
   Post. I do beleeue
(Statist though I am none, nor like to be)
That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare
The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed
In our not-fearing-Britaine, then haue tydings
Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen
Are men more order'd, then when Iulius Caesar
Smil'd at their lacke of skill, but found their courage
Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,
(Now wing-led with their courages) will make knowne
To their Approuers, they are People, such
That mend vpon the world.
Enter Iachimo.
  Phi. See Iachimo
   Post. The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land;
And Windes of all the Corners kiss'd your Sailes,
To make your vessell nimble
   Phil. Welcome Sir
   Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made
The speedinesse of your returne
   Iachi. Your Lady,
Is one of the fayrest that I haue look'd vpon
  Post. And therewithall the best, or let her beauty
Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts,
And be false with them
   Iachi. Heere are Letters for you
   Post. Their tenure good I trust
   Iach. 'Tis very like
   Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court,
When you were there?
  Iach. He was expected then,
But not approach'd
   Post. All is well yet,
Sparkles this Stone as it was wont, or is't not
Too dull for your good wearing?
  Iach. If I haue lost it,
I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold,
Ile make a iourney twice as farre, t' enioy
A second night of such sweet shortnesse, which
Was mine in Britaine, for the Ring is wonne
   Post. The Stones too hard to come by
   Iach. Not a whit,
Your Lady being so easy
   Post. Make note Sir
Your losse, your Sport: I hope you know that we
Must not continue Friends
   Iach. Good Sir, we must
If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought
The knowledge of your Mistris home, I grant
We were to question farther; but I now
Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor,
Together with your Ring; and not the wronger
Of her, or you hauing proceeded but
By both your willes
   Post. If you can mak't apparant
That you haue tasted her in Bed; my hand,
And Ring is yours. If not, the foule opinion
You had of her pure Honour; gaines, or looses,
Your Sword, or mine, or Masterlesse leaue both
To who shall finde them
   Iach. Sir, my Circumstances
Being so nere the Truth, as I will make them,
Must first induce you to beleeue; whose strength
I will confirme with oath, which I doubt not
You'l giue me leaue to spare, when you shall finde
You neede it not
   Post. Proceed
   Iach. First, her Bed-chamber
(Where I confesse I slept not, but professe
Had that was well worth watching) it was hang'd
With Tapistry of Silke, and Siluer, the Story
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,
And Sidnus swell'd aboue the Bankes, or for
The presse of Boates, or Pride. A peece of Worke
So brauely done, so rich, that it did striue
In Workemanship, and Value, which I wonder'd
Could be so rarely, and exactly wrought
Since the true life on't was-
  Post. This is true:
And this you might haue heard of heere, by me,
Or by some other
   Iach. More particulars
Must iustifie my knowledge
   Post. So they must,
Or doe your Honour iniury
   Iach. The Chimney
Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney-peece
Chaste Dian, bathing: neuer saw I figures
So likely to report themselues; the Cutter
Was as another Nature dumbe, out-went her,
Motion, and Breath left out
   Post. This is a thing
Which you might from Relation likewise reape,
Being, as it is, much spoke of
   Iach. The Roofe o'th' Chamber,
With golden Cherubins is fretted. Her Andirons
(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids
Of Siluer, each on one foote standing, nicely
Depending on their Brands
   Post. This is her Honor:
Let it be granted you haue seene all this (and praise
Be giuen to your remembrance) the description
Of what is in her Chamber, nothing saues
The wager you haue laid
   Iach. Then if you can
Be pale, I begge but leaue to ayre this Iewell: See,
And now 'tis vp againe: it must be married
To that your Diamond, Ile keepe them
   Post. Ioue-
Once more let me behold it: Is it that
Which I left with her?
  Iach. Sir (I thanke her) that
She stript it from her Arme: I see her yet:
Her pretty Action, did out-sell her guift,
And yet enrich'd it too: she gaue it me,
And said, she priz'd it once
   Post. May be, she pluck'd it off
To send it me
   Iach. She writes so to you? doth shee?
  Post. O no, no, no, 'tis true. Heere, take this too,
It is a Basiliske vnto mine eye,
Killes me to looke on't: Let there be no Honor,
Where there is Beauty: Truth, where semblance: Loue,
Where there's another man. The Vowes of Women,
Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,
Then they are to their Vertues, which is nothing:
O, aboue measure false
   Phil. Haue patience Sir,
And take your Ring againe, 'tis not yet wonne:
It may be probable she lost it: or
Who knowes if one her women, being corrupted
Hath stolne it from her
   Post. Very true,
And so I hope he came by't: backe my Ring,
Render to me some corporall signe about her
More euident then this: for this was stolne
   Iach. By Iupiter, I had it from her Arme
   Post. Hearke you, he sweares: by Iupiter he sweares.
'Tis true, nay keepe the Ring; 'tis true: I am sure
She would not loose it: her Attendants are
All sworne, and honourable: they induc'd to steale it?
And by a Stranger? No, he hath enioy'd her,
The Cognisance of her incontinencie
Is this: she hath bought the name of Whore, thus deerly
There, take thy hyre, and all the Fiends of Hell
Diuide themselues betweene you
   Phil. Sir, be patient:
This is not strong enough to be beleeu'd
Of one perswaded well of
   Post. Neuer talke on't:
She hath bin colted by him
   Iach. If you seeke
For further satisfying, vnder her Breast
(Worthy her pressing) lyes a Mole, right proud
Of that most delicate Lodging. By my life
I kist it, and it gaue me present hunger
To feede againe, though full. You do remember
This staine vpon her?
  Post. I, and it doth confirme
Another staine, as bigge as Hell can hold,
Were there no more but it
   Iach. Will you heare more?
  Post. Spare your Arethmaticke,
Neuer count the Turnes: Once, and a Million
   Iach. Ile be sworne
   Post. No swearing:
If you will sweare you haue not done't, you lye,
And I will kill thee, if thou do'st deny
Thou'st made me Cuckold
   Iach. Ile deny nothing
   Post. O that I had her heere, to teare her Limb-meale:
I will go there and doo't, i'th' Court, before
Her Father. Ile do something.
  Phil. Quite besides
The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne:
Let's follow him, and peruert the present wrath
He hath against himselfe
   Iach. With all my heart.
Enter Posthumus.
  Post. Is there no way for Men to be, but Women
Must be halfe-workers? We are all Bastards,
And that most venerable man, which I
Did call my Father, was, I know not where
When I was stampt. Some Coyner with his Tooles
Made me a counterfeit: yet my Mother seem'd
The Dian of that time: so doth my Wife
The Non-pareill of this. Oh Vengeance, Vengeance!
Me of my lawfull pleasure she restrain'd,
And pray'd me oft forbearance: did it with
A pudencie so Rosie, the sweet view on't
Might well haue warm'd olde Saturne;
That I thought her
As Chaste, as vn-Sunn'd Snow. Oh, all the Diuels!
This yellow Iachimo in an houre, was't not?
Or lesse; at first? Perchance he spoke not, but
Like a full Acorn'd Boare, a Iarmen on,
Cry'de oh, and mounted; found no opposition
But what he look'd for, should oppose, and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out
The Womans part in me, for there's no motion
That tends to vice in man, but I affirme
It is the Womans part: be it Lying, note it,
The womans: Flattering, hers; Deceiuing, hers:
Lust, and ranke thoughts, hers, hers: Reuenges hers:
Ambitions, Couetings, change of Prides, Disdaine,
Nice-longing, Slanders, Mutability;
All Faults that name, nay, that Hell knowes,
Why hers, in part, or all: but rather all. For euen to Vice
They are not constant, but are changing still;
One Vice, but of a minute old, for one
Not halfe so old as that. Ile write against them,
Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater Skill
In a true Hate, to pray they haue their will:
The very Diuels cannot plague them better.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter in State, Cymbeline, Queene, Clotten, and Lords at one
doore, and at
another, Caius, Lucius; and Attendants.
  Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with vs?
  Luc. When Iulius Caesar (whose remembrance yet
Liues in mens eyes, and will to Eares and Tongues
Be Theame, and hearing euer) was in this Britain,
And Conquer'd it, Cassibulan thine Vnkle
(Famous in Caesars prayses, no whit lesse
Then in his Feats deseruing it) for him,
And his Succession, granted Rome a Tribute,
Yeerely three thousand pounds; which (by thee) lately
Is left vntender'd
   Qu. And to kill the meruaile,
Shall be so euer
   Clot. There be many Caesars,
Ere such another Iulius: Britaine's a world
By it selfe, and we will nothing pay
For wearing our owne Noses
   Qu. That opportunity
Which then they had to take from's, to resume
We haue againe. Remember Sir, my Liege,
The Kings your Ancestors, together with
The naturall brauery of your Isle, which stands
As Neptunes Parke, ribb'd, and pal'd in
With Oakes vnskaleable, and roaring Waters,
With Sands that will not beare your Enemies Boates,
But sucke them vp to'th' Top-mast. A kinde of Conquest
Caesar made heere, but made not heere his bragge
Of Came, and Saw, and Ouer-came: with shame
(The first that euer touch'd him) he was carried
From off our Coast, twice beaten: and his Shipping
(Poore ignorant Baubles) on our terrible Seas
Like Egge-shels mou'd vpon their Surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our Rockes. For ioy whereof,
The fam'd Cassibulan, who was once at point
(Oh giglet Fortune) to master Caesars Sword,
Made Luds-Towne with reioycing-Fires bright,
And Britaines strut with Courage
   Clot. Come, there's no more Tribute to be paid: our
Kingdome is stronger then it was at that time: and (as I
said) there is no mo such Caesars, other of them may haue
crook'd Noses, but to owe such straite Armes, none
   Cym. Son, let your Mother end
   Clot. We haue yet many among vs, can gripe as hard
as Cassibulan, I doe not say I am one: but I haue a hand.
Why Tribute? Why should we pay Tribute? If Caesar
can hide the Sun from vs with a Blanket, or put the Moon
in his pocket, we will pay him Tribute for light: else Sir,
no more Tribute, pray you now
   Cym. You must know,
Till the iniurious Romans, did extort
This Tribute from vs, we were free. Caesars Ambition,
Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch
The sides o'th' World, against all colour heere,
Did put the yoake vpon's; which to shake off
Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon
Our selues to be, we do. Say then to Caesar,
Our Ancestor was that Mulmutius, which
Ordain'd our Lawes, whose vse the Sword of Caesar
Hath too much mangled; whose repayre, and franchise,
Shall (by the power we hold) be our good deed,
Tho Rome be therfore angry. Mulmutius made our lawes
Who was the first of Britaine, which did put
His browes within a golden Crowne, and call'd
Himselfe a King
   Luc. I am sorry Cymbeline,
That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar
(Caesar, that hath moe Kings his Seruants, then
Thy selfe Domesticke Officers) thine Enemy:
Receyue it from me then. Warre, and Confusion
In Caesars name pronounce I 'gainst thee: Looke
For fury, not to be resisted. Thus defide,
I thanke thee for my selfe
   Cym. Thou art welcome Caius,
Thy Caesar Knighted me; my youth I spent
Much vnder him; of him, I gather'd Honour,
Which he, to seeke of me againe, perforce,
Behooues me keepe at vtterance. I am perfect,
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for
Their Liberties are now in Armes: a President
Which not to reade, would shew the Britaines cold:
So Caesar shall not finde them
   Luc. Let proofe speake
   Clot. His Maiesty biddes you welcome. Make pastime
with vs, a day, or two, or longer: if you seek vs afterwards
in other tearmes, you shall finde vs in our Saltwater-Girdle:
if you beate vs out of it, it is yours: if you
fall in the aduenture, our Crowes shall fare the better for
you: and there's an end
   Luc. So sir
   Cym. I know your Masters pleasure, and he mine:
All the Remaine, is welcome.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Pisanio reading of a Letter.
  Pis. How? of Adultery? Wherefore write you not
What Monsters her accuse? Leonatus:
Oh Master, what a strange infection
Is falne into thy eare? What false Italian,
(As poysonous tongu'd, as handed) hath preuail'd
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyall? No.
She's punish'd for her Truth; and vndergoes
More Goddesse-like, then Wife-like; such Assaults
As would take in some Vertue. Oh my Master,
Thy mind to her, is now as lowe, as were
Thy Fortunes. How? That I should murther her,
Vpon the Loue, and Truth, and Vowes; which I
Haue made to thy command? I her? Her blood?
If it be so, to do good seruice, neuer
Let me be counted seruiceable. How looke I,
That I should seeme to lacke humanity,
So much as this Fact comes to? Doo't: The Letter.
That I haue sent her, by her owne command,
Shall giue thee opportunitie. Oh damn'd paper,
Blacke as the Inke that's on thee: senselesse bauble,
Art thou a Foedarie for this Act; and look'st
So Virgin-like without? Loe here she comes.
Enter Imogen.
I am ignorant in what I am commanded
   Imo. How now Pisanio?
  Pis. Madam, heere is a Letter from my Lord
   Imo. Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus?
Oh, learn'd indeed were that Astronomer
That knew the Starres, as I his Characters,
Heel'd lay the Future open. You good Gods,
Let what is heere contain'd, rellish of Loue,
Of my Lords health, of his content: yet not
That we two are asunder, let that grieue him;
Some griefes are medcinable, that is one of them,
For it doth physicke Loue, of his content,
All but in that. Good Wax, thy leaue: blest be
You Bees that make these Lockes of counsaile. Louers,
And men in dangerous Bondes pray not alike,
Though Forfeytours you cast in prison, yet
You claspe young Cupids Tables: good Newes Gods.
Iustice and your Fathers wrath (should he take me in his
Dominion) could not be so cruell to me, as you: (oh the deerest
of Creatures) would euen renew me with your eyes. Take
notice that I am in Cambria at Milford-Hauen: what your
owne Loue, will out of this aduise you, follow. So he wishes you
all happinesse, that remaines loyall to his Vow, and your
in Loue. Leonatus Posthumus.
Oh for a Horse with wings: Hear'st thou Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Hauen: Read, and tell me
How farre 'tis thither. If one of meane affaires
May plod it in a weeke, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then true Pisanio,
Who long'st like me, to see thy Lord; who long'st
(Oh let me bate) but not like me: yet long'st
But in a fainter kinde. Oh not like me:
For mine's beyond, beyond: say, and speake thicke
(Loues Counsailor should fill the bores of hearing,
To'th' smothering of the Sense) how farre it is
To this same blessed Milford. And by'th' way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as
T' inherite such a Hauen. But first of all,
How we may steale from hence: and for the gap
That we shall make in Time, from our hence-going,
And our returne, to excuse: but first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be borne or ere begot?
Weele talke of that heereafter. Prythee speake,
How many store of Miles may we well rid
Twixt houre, and houre?
  Pis. One score 'twixt Sun, and Sun,
Madam's enough for you: and too much too
   Imo. Why, one that rode to's Execution Man,
Could neuer go so slow: I haue heard of Riding wagers,
Where Horses haue bin nimbler then the Sands
That run i'th' Clocks behalfe. But this is Foolrie,
Go, bid my Woman faigne a Sicknesse, say
She'le home to her Father; and prouide me presently
A Riding Suit: No costlier then would fit
A Franklins Huswife
   Pisa. Madam, you're best consider
   Imo. I see before me (Man) nor heere, nor heere;
Nor what ensues but haue a Fog in them
That I cannot looke through. Away, I prythee,
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say:
Accessible is none but Milford way.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus.
  Bel. A goodly day, not to keepe house with such,
Whose Roofe's as lowe as ours: Sleepe Boyes, this gate
Instructs you how t' adore the Heauens; and bowes you
To a mornings holy office. The Gates of Monarches
Are Arch'd so high, that Giants may iet through
And keepe their impious Turbonds on, without
Good morrow to the Sun. Haile thou faire Heauen,
We house i'th' Rocke, yet vse thee not so hardly
As prouder liuers do
   Guid. Haile Heauen
   Aruir. Haile Heauen
   Bela. Now for our Mountaine sport, vp to yond hill
Your legges are yong: Ile tread these Flats. Consider,
When you aboue perceiue me like a Crow,
That it is Place, which lessen's, and sets off,
And you may then reuolue what Tales, I haue told you,
Of Courts, of Princes; of the Tricks in Warre.
This Seruice, is not Seruice; so being done,
But being so allowed. To apprehend thus,
Drawes vs a profit from all things we see:
And often to our comfort, shall we finde
The sharded-Beetle, in a safer hold
Then is the full-wing'd Eagle. Oh this life,
Is Nobler, then attending for a checke:
Richer, then doing nothing for a Babe:
Prouder, then rustling in vnpayd-for Silke:
Such gaine the Cap of him, that makes him fine,
Yet keepes his Booke vncros'd: no life to ours
   Gui. Out of your proofe you speak: we poore vnfledg'd
Haue neuer wing'd from view o'th' nest; nor knowes not
What Ayre's from home. Hap'ly this life is best,
(If quiet life be best) sweeter to you
That haue a sharper knowne. Well corresponding
With your stiffe Age; but vnto vs, it is
A Cell of Ignorance: trauailing a bed,
A Prison, or a Debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit
   Arui. What should we speake of
When we are old as you? When we shall heare
The Raine and winde beate darke December? How
In this our pinching Caue, shall we discourse
The freezing houres away? We haue seene nothing:
We are beastly; subtle as the Fox for prey,
Like warlike as the Wolfe, for what we eate:
Our Valour is to chace what flyes: Our Cage
We make a Quire, as doth the prison'd Bird,
And sing our Bondage freely
   Bel. How you speake.
Did you but know the Citties Vsuries,
And felt them knowingly: the Art o'th' Court,
As hard to leaue, as keepe: whose top to climbe
Is certaine falling: or so slipp'ry, that
The feare's as bad as falling. The toyle o'th' Warre,
A paine that onely seemes to seeke out danger
I'th' name of Fame, and Honor, which dyes i'th' search,
And hath as oft a sland'rous Epitaph,
As Record of faire Act. Nay, many times
Doth ill deserue, by doing well: what's worse
Must curt'sie at the Censure. Oh Boyes, this Storie
The World may reade in me: My bodie's mark'd
With Roman Swords; and my report, was once
First, with the best of Note. Cymbeline lou'd me,
And when a Souldier was the Theame, my name
Was not farre off: then was I as a Tree
Whose boughes did bend with fruit. But in one night,
A Storme, or Robbery (call it what you will)
Shooke downe my mellow hangings: nay my Leaues,
And left me bare to weather
   Gui. Vncertaine fauour
   Bel. My fault being nothing (as I haue told you oft)
But that two Villaines, whose false Oathes preuayl'd
Before my perfect Honor, swore to Cymbeline,
I was Confederate with the Romanes: so
Followed my Banishment, and this twenty yeeres,
This Rocke, and these Demesnes, haue bene my World,
Where I haue liu'd at honest freedome, payed
More pious debts to Heauen, then in all
The fore-end of my time. But, vp to'th' Mountaines,
This is not Hunters Language; he that strikes
The Venison first, shall be the Lord o'th' Feast,
To him the other two shall minister,
And we will feare no poyson, which attends
In place of greater State:
Ile meete you in the Valleyes.
How hard it is to hide the sparkes of Nature?
These Boyes know little they are Sonnes to'th' King,
Nor Cymbeline dreames that they are aliue.
They thinke they are mine,
And though train'd vp thus meanely
I'th' Caue, whereon the Bowe their thoughts do hit,
The Roofes of Palaces, and Nature prompts them
In simple and lowe things, to Prince it, much
Beyond the tricke of others. This Paladour,
The heyre of Cymbeline and Britaine, who
The King his Father call'd Guiderius. Ioue,
When on my three-foot stoole I sit, and tell
The warlike feats I haue done, his spirits flye out
Into my Story: say thus mine Enemy fell,
And thus I set my foote on's necke, euen then
The Princely blood flowes in his Cheeke, he sweats,
Straines his yong Nerues, and puts himselfe in posture
That acts my words. The yonger Brother Cadwall,
Once Aruiragus, in as like a figure
Strikes life into my speech, and shewes much more
His owne conceyuing. Hearke, the Game is rows'd,
Oh Cymbeline, Heauen and my Conscience knowes
Thou didd'st vniustly banish me: whereon
At three, and two yeeres old, I stole these Babes,
Thinking to barre thee of Succession, as
Thou refts me of my Lands. Euriphile,
Thou was't their Nurse, they took thee for their mother,
And euery day do honor to her graue:
My selfe Belarius, that am Mergan call'd
They take for Naturall Father. The Game is vp.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Pisanio and Imogen.
  Imo. Thou told'st me when we came fro[m] horse, y place
Was neere at hand: Ne're long'd my Mother so
To see me first, as I haue now. Pisanio, Man:
Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh
From th' inward of thee? One, but painted thus
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd
Beyond selfe-explication. Put thy selfe
Into a hauiour of lesse feare, ere wildnesse
Vanquish my stayder Senses. What's the matter?
Why render'st thou that Paper to me, with
A looke vntender? If't be Summer Newes
Smile too't before: if Winterly, thou need'st
But keepe that count'nance stil. My Husbands hand?
That Drug-damn'd Italy, hath out-craftied him,
And hee's at some hard point. Speake man, thy Tongue
May take off some extreamitie, which to reade
Would be euen mortall to me
   Pis. Please you reade,
And you shall finde me (wretched man) a thing
The most disdain'd of Fortune
   Imogen reades. Thy Mistris (Pisanio) hath plaide the Strumpet in
Bed: the Testimonies whereof, lyes bleeding in me. I speak
not out of weake Surmises, but from proofe as strong as my
greefe, and as certaine as I expect my Reuenge. That part, thou
(Pisanio) must acte for me, if thy Faith be not tainted with the
breach of hers; let thine owne hands take away her life: I shall
giue thee opportunity at Milford Hauen. She hath my Letter
for the purpose; where, if thou feare to strike, and to make mee
certaine it is done, thou art the Pander to her dishonour, and
equally to me disloyall
   Pis. What shall I need to draw my Sword, the Paper
Hath cut her throat alreadie? No, 'tis Slander,
Whose edge is sharper then the Sword, whose tongue
Out-venomes all the Wormes of Nyle, whose breath
Rides on the posting windes, and doth belye
All corners of the World. Kings, Queenes, and States,
Maides, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the Graue
This viperous slander enters. What cheere, Madam?
  Imo. False to his Bed? What is it to be false?
To lye in watch there, and to thinke on him?
To weepe 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge Nature,
To breake it with a fearfull dreame of him,
And cry my selfe awake? That's false to's bed? Is it?
  Pisa. Alas good Lady
   Imo. I false? Thy Conscience witnesse: Iachimo,
Thou didd'st accuse him of Incontinencie,
Thou then look'dst like a Villaine: now, me thinkes
Thy fauours good enough. Some Iay of Italy
(Whose mother was her painting) hath betraid him:
Poore I am stale, a Garment out of fashion,
And for I am richer then to hang by th' walles,
I must be ript: To peeces with me: Oh!
Mens Vowes are womens Traitors. All good seeming
By thy reuolt (oh Husband) shall be thought
Put on for Villainy; not borne where't growes,
But worne a Baite for Ladies
   Pisa. Good Madam, heare me
   Imo. True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas,
Were in his time thought false: and Synons weeping
Did scandall many a holy teare: tooke pitty
From most true wretchednesse. So thou, Posthumus
Wilt lay the Leauen on all proper men;
Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and periur'd
From thy great faile: Come Fellow, be thou honest,
Do thou thy Masters bidding. When thou seest him,
A little witnesse my obedience. Looke
I draw the Sword my selfe, take it, and hit
The innocent Mansion of my Loue (my Heart:)
Feare not, 'tis empty of all things, but Greefe:
Thy Master is not there, who was indeede
The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike,
Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause;
But now thou seem'st a Coward
   Pis. Hence vile Instrument,
Thou shalt not damne my hand
   Imo. Why, I must dye:
And if I do not by thy hand, thou art
No Seruant of thy Masters. Against Selfe-slaughter,
There is a prohibition so Diuine,
That crauens my weake hand: Come, heere's my heart:
Something's a-foot: Soft, soft, wee'l no defence,
Obedient as the Scabbard. What is heere,
The Scriptures of the Loyall Leonatus,
All turn'd to Heresie? Away, away
Corrupters of my Faith, you shall no more
Be Stomachers to my heart: thus may pooru Fooles
Beleeue false Teachers: Though those that are betraid
Do feele the Treason sharpely, yet the Traitor
Stands in worse case of woe. And thou Posthumus,
That didd'st set vp my disobedience 'gainst the King
My Father, and makes me put into contempt the suites
Of Princely Fellowes, shalt heereafter finde
It is no acte of common passage, but
A straine of Rarenesse: and I greeue my selfe,
To thinke, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her,
That now thou tyrest on, how thy memory
Will then be pang'd by me. Prythee dispatch,
The Lambe entreats the Butcher. Wher's thy knife?
Thou art too slow to do thy Masters bidding
When I desire it too
   Pis. Oh gracious Lady:
Since I receiu'd command to do this businesse,
I haue not slept one winke
   Imo. Doo't, and to bed then
   Pis. Ile wake mine eye-balles first
   Imo. Wherefore then
Didd'st vndertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many Miles, with a pretence? This place?
Mine Action? and thine owne? Our Horses labour?
The Time inuiting thee? The perturb'd Court
For my being absent? whereunto I neuer
Purpose returne. Why hast thou gone so farre
To be vn-bent? when thou hast 'tane thy stand,
Th' elected Deere before thee?
  Pis. But to win time
To loose so bad employment, in the which
I haue consider'd of a course: good Ladie
Heare me with patience
   Imo. Talke thy tongue weary, speake:
I haue heard I am a Strumpet, and mine eare
Therein false strooke, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent, to bottome that. But speake
   Pis. Then Madam,
I thought you would not backe againe
   Imo. Most like,
Bringing me heere to kill me
   Pis. Not so neither:
But if I were as wise, as honest, then
My purpose would proue well: it cannot be,
But that my Master is abus'd. Some Villaine,
I, and singular in his Art, hath done you both
This cursed iniurie
   Imo. Some Roman Curtezan?
  Pisa. No, on my life:
Ile giue but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody signe of it. For 'tis commanded
I should do so: you shall be mist at Court,
And that will well confirme it
   Imo. Why good Fellow,
What shall I do the while? Where bide? How liue?
Or in my life, what comfort, when I am
Dead to my Husband?
  Pis. If you'l backe to'th' Court
   Imo. No Court, no Father, nor no more adoe
With that harsh, noble, simple nothing:
That Clotten, whose Loue-suite hath bene to me
As fearefull as a Siege
   Pis. If not at Court,
Then not in Britaine must you bide
   Imo. Where then?
Hath Britaine all the Sunne that shines? Day? Night?
Are they not but in Britaine? I'th' worlds Volume
Our Britaine seemes as of it, but not in't:
In a great Poole, a Swannes-nest, prythee thinke
There's liuers out of Britaine
   Pis. I am most glad
You thinke of other place: Th' Ambassador,
Lucius the Romane comes to Milford-Hauen
To morrow. Now, if you could weare a minde
Darke, as your Fortune is, and but disguise
That which t' appeare it selfe, must not yet be,
But by selfe-danger, you should tread a course
Pretty, and full of view: yea, happily, neere
The residence of Posthumus; so nie (at least)
That though his Actions were not visible, yut
Report should render him hourely to your eare,
As truely as he mooues
   Imo. Oh for such meanes,
Though perill to my modestie, not death on't
I would aduenture
   Pis. Well then, heere's the point:
You must forget to be a Woman: change
Command, into obedience. Feare, and Nicenesse
(The Handmaides of all Women, or more truely
Woman it pretty selfe) into a waggish courage,
Ready in gybes, quicke-answer'd, sawcie, and
As quarrellous as the Weazell: Nay, you must
Forget that rarest Treasure of your Cheeke,
Exposing it (but oh the harder heart,
Alacke no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan: and forget
Your laboursome and dainty Trimmes, wherein
You made great Iuno angry
   Imo. Nay be breefe?
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already
   Pis. First, make your selfe but like one,
Fore-thinking this. I haue already fit
('Tis in my Cloake-bagge) Doublet, Hat, Hose, all
That answer to them: Would you in their seruing,
(And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season) 'fore Noble Lucius
Present your selfe, desire his seruice: tell him
Wherein you're happy; which will make him know,
If that his head haue eare in Musicke, doubtlesse
With ioy he will imbrace you: for hee's Honourable,
And doubling that, most holy. Your meanes abroad:
You haue me rich, and I will neuer faile
Beginning, nor supplyment
   Imo. Thou art all the comfort
The Gods will diet me with. Prythee away,
There's more to be consider'd: but wee'l euen
All that good time will giue vs. This attempt,
I am Souldier too, and will abide it with
A Princes Courage. Away, I prythee
   Pis. Well Madam, we must take a short farewell,
Least being mist, I be suspected of
Your carriage from the Court. My Noble Mistris,
Heere is a boxe, I had it from the Queene,
What's in't is precious: If you are sicke at Sea,
Or Stomacke-qualm'd at Land, a Dramme of this
Will driue away distemper. To some shade,
And fit you to your Manhood: may the Gods
Direct you to the best
   Imo. Amen: I thanke thee.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords.
  Cym. Thus farre, and so farewell
   Luc. Thankes, Royall Sir:
My Emperor hath wrote, I must from hence,
And am right sorry, that I must report ye
My Masters Enemy
   Cym. Our Subiects (Sir)
Will not endure his yoake; and for our selfe
To shew lesse Soueraignty then they, must needs
Appeare vn-Kinglike
   Luc. So Sir: I desire of you
A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford-Hauen.
Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you
   Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that Office:
The due of Honor, in no point omit:
So farewell Noble Lucius
   Luc. Your hand, my Lord
   Clot. Receiue it friendly: but from this time forth
I weare it as your Enemy
   Luc. Sir, the Euent
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well
   Cym. Leaue not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords
Till he haue crost the Seuern. Happines.
Exit Lucius, &c
  Qu. He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs
That we haue giuen him cause
   Clot. 'Tis all the better,
Your valiant Britaines haue their wishes in it
   Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
How it goes heere. It fits vs therefore ripely
Our Chariots, and our Horsemen be in readinesse:
The Powres that he already hath in Gallia
Will soone be drawne to head, from whence he moues
His warre for Britaine
   Qu. 'Tis not sleepy businesse,
But must be look'd too speedily, and strongly
   Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus
Hath made vs forward. But my gentle Queene,
Where is our Daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd
The duty of the day. She looke vs like
A thing more made of malice, then of duty,
We haue noted it. Call her before vs, for
We haue beene too slight in sufferance
   Qu. Royall Sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retyr'd
Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord,
'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty,
Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are stroke;
And strokes death to her.
Enter a Messenger.
  Cym. Where is she Sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?
  Mes. Please you Sir,
Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer
That will be giuen to'th' lowd of noise, we make
   Qu. My Lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close,
Whereto constrain'd by her infirmitie,
She should that dutie leaue vnpaide to you
Which dayly she was bound to proffer: this
She wish'd me to make knowne: but our great Court
Made me too blame in memory
   Cym. Her doores lock'd?
Not seene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I
Feare, proue false.
  Qu. Sonne, I say, follow the King
   Clot. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Seruant
I haue not seene these two dayes.
  Qu. Go, looke after:
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus,
He hath a Drugge of mine: I pray, his absence
Proceed by swallowing that. For he beleeues
It is a thing most precious. But for her,
Where is she gone? Haply dispaire hath seiz'd her:
Or wing'd with feruour of her loue, she's flowne
To her desir'd Posthumus: gone she is,
To death, or to dishonor, and my end
Can make good vse of either. Shee being downe,
I haue the placing of the Brittish Crowne.
Enter Cloten.
How now, my Sonne?
  Clot. 'Tis certaine she is fled:
Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none
Dare come about him
   Qu. All the better: may
This night fore-stall him of the comming day.
  Clo. I loue, and hate her: for she's Faire and Royall,
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from euery one
The best she hath, and she of all compounded
Out-selles them all. I loue her therefore, but
Disdaining me, and throwing Fauours on
The low Posthumus, slanders so her iudgement,
That what's else rare, is choak'd: and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede,
To be reueng'd vpon her. For, when Fooles shall-
Enter Pisanio.
Who is heere? What, are you packing sirrah?
Come hither: Ah you precious Pandar, Villaine,
Where is thy Lady? In a word, or else
Thou art straightway with the Fiends
   Pis. Oh, good my Lord
   Clo. Where is thy Lady? Or, by Iupiter,
I will not aske againe. Close Villaine,
Ile haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Posthumus?
From whose so many waights of basenesse, cannot
A dram of worth be drawne
   Pis. Alas, nay Lord,
How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?
He is in Rome
   Clot. Where is she Sir? Come neerer:
No farther halting: satisfie me home,
What is become of her?
  Pis. Oh, my all-worthy Lord
   Clo. All-worthy Villaine,
Discouer where thy Mistris is, at once,
At the next word: no more of worthy Lord:
Speake, or thy silence on the instant, is
Thy condemnation, and thy death
   Pis. Then Sir:
This Paper is the historie of my knowledge
Touching her flight
   Clo. Let's see't: I will pursue her
Euen to Augustus Throne
   Pis. Or this, or perish.
She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this,
May proue his trauell, not her danger
   Clo. Humh
   Pis. Ile write to my Lord she's dead: Oh Imogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe returne agen
   Clot. Sirra, is this Letter true?
  Pis. Sir, as I thinke
   Clot. It is Posthumus hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou
would'st not be a Villain, but do me true seruice: vndergo
those Imployments wherin I should haue cause to vse
thee with a serious industry, that is, what villainy soere I
bid thee do to performe it, directly and truely, I would
thinke thee an honest man: thou should'st neither want
my meanes for thy releefe, nor my voyce for thy preferment
   Pis. Well, my good Lord
   Clot. Wilt thou serue mee? For since patiently and
constantly thou hast stucke to the bare Fortune of that
Begger Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude,
but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serue
  Pis. Sir, I will
   Clo. Giue mee thy hand, heere's my purse. Hast any
of thy late Masters Garments in thy possession?
  Pisan. I haue (my Lord) at my Lodging, the same
Suite he wore, when he tooke leaue of my Ladie & Mistresse
   Clo. The first seruice thou dost mee, fetch that Suite
hither, let it be thy first seruice, go
   Pis. I shall my Lord.
  Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske
him one thing, Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou
villaine Posthumus will I kill thee. I would these Garments
were come. She saide vpon a time (the bitternesse
of it, I now belch from my heart) that shee held the very
Garment of Posthumus, in more respect, then my Noble
and naturall person; together with the adornement of
my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I rauish
her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see
my valour, which wil then be a torment to hir contempt.
He on the ground, my speech of insulment ended on his
dead bodie, and when my Lust hath dined (which, as I
say, to vex her, I will execute in the Cloathes that she so
prais'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe, foot her home
againe. She hath despis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee
merry in my Reuenge.
Enter Pisanio.
Be those the Garments?
  Pis. I, my Noble Lord
   Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford-Hauen?
  Pis. She can scarse be there yet
   Clo. Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is
the second thing that I haue commanded thee. The third
is, that thou wilt be a voluntarie Mute to my designe. Be
but dutious, and true preferment shall tender it selfe to
thee. My Reuenge is now at Milford, would I had wings
to follow it. Come, and be true.
  Pis. Thou bid'st me to my losse: for true to thee,
Were to proue false, which I will neuer bee
To him that is most true. To Milford go,
And finde not her, whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow
You Heauenly blessings on her: This Fooles speede
Be crost with slownesse; Labour be his meede.
Scena Sexta.
Enter Imogen alone.
  Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one,
I haue tyr'd my selfe: and for two nights together
Haue made the ground my bed. I should be sicke,
But that my resolution helpes me: Milford,
When from the Mountaine top, Pisanio shew'd thee,
Thou was't within a kenne. Oh Ioue, I thinke
Foundations flye the wretched: such I meane,
Where they should be releeu'd. Two Beggers told me,
I could not misse my way. Will poore Folkes lye
That haue Afflictions on them, knowing 'tis
A punishment, or Triall? Yes; no wonder,
When Rich-ones scarse tell true. To lapse in Fulnesse
Is sorer, then to lye for Neede: and Falshood
Is worse in Kings, then Beggers. My deere Lord,
Thou art one o'th' false Ones: Now I thinke on thee,
My hunger's gone; but euen before, I was
At point to sinke, for Food. But what is this?
Heere is a path too't: 'tis some sauage hold:
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine
Ere cleane it o're-throw Nature, makes it valiant.
Plentie, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer
Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa? who's heere?
If any thing that's ciuill, speake: if sauage,
Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter.
Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy
But feare the Sword like me, hee'l scarsely looke on't.
Such a Foe, good Heauens.
Scena Septima.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus
   Bel. You Polidore haue prou'd best Woodman, and
Are Master of the Feast: Cadwall, and I
Will play the Cooke, and Seruant, 'tis our match:
The sweat of industry would dry, and dye
But for the end it workes too. Come, our stomackes
Will make what's homely, sauoury: Wearinesse
Can snore vpon the Flint, when restie Sloth
Findes the Downe-pillow hard. Now peace be heere,
Poore house, that keep'st thy selfe
   Gui. I am throughly weary
   Arui. I am weake with toyle, yet strong in appetite
   Gui. There is cold meat i'th' Caue, we'l brouz on that
Whil'st what we haue kill'd, be Cook'd
   Bel. Stay, come not in:
But that it eates our victualles, I should thinke
Heere were a Faiery
   Gui. What's the matter, Sir?
  Bel. By Iupiter an Angell: or if not
An earthly Paragon. Behold Diuinenesse
No elder then a Boy.
Enter Imogen.
  Imo. Good masters harme me not:
Before I enter'd heere, I call'd, and thought
To haue begg'd, or bought, what I haue took: good troth
I haue stolne nought, nor would not, though I had found
Gold strew'd i'th' Floore. Heere's money for my Meate,
I would haue left it on the Boord, so soone
As I had made my Meale; and parted
With Pray'rs for the Prouider
   Gui. Money? Youth
   Aru. All Gold and Siluer rather turne to durt,
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship durty Gods
   Imo. I see you're angry:
Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should
Haue dyed, had I not made it
   Bel. Whether bound?
  Imo. To Milford-Hauen
   Bel. What's your name?
  Imo. Fidele Sir: I haue a Kinsman, who
Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford,
To whom being going, almost spent with hunger,
I am falne in this offence
   Bel. Prythee (faire youth)
Thinke vs no Churles: nor measure our good mindes
By this rude place we liue in. Well encounter'd,
'Tis almost night, you shall haue better cheere
Ere you depart; and thankes to stay, and eate it:
Boyes, bid him welcome
   Gui. Were you a woman, youth,
I should woo hard, but be your Groome in honesty:
I bid for you, as I do buy
   Arui. Ile make't my Comfort
He is a man, Ile loue him as my Brother:
And such a welcome as I'ld giue to him
(After long absence) such is yours. Most welcome:
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst Friends
   Imo. 'Mongst Friends?
If Brothers: would it had bin so, that they
Had bin my Fathers Sonnes, then had my prize
Bin lesse, and so more equall ballasting
To thee Posthumus
   Bel. He wrings at some distresse
   Gui. Would I could free't
   Arui. Or I, what ere it be,
What paine it cost, what danger: Gods!
  Bel. Hearke Boyes
   Imo. Great men
That had a Court no bigger then this Caue,
That did attend themselues, and had the vertue
Which their owne Conscience seal'd them: laying by
That nothing-guift of differing Multitudes
Could not out-peere these twaine. Pardon me Gods,
I'ld change my sexe to be Companion with them,
Since Leonatus false
   Bel. It shall be so:
Boyes wee'l go dresse our Hunt. Faire youth come in;
Discourse is heauy, fasting: when we haue supp'd
Wee'l mannerly demand thee of thy Story,
So farre as thou wilt speake it
   Gui. Pray draw neere
   Arui. The Night to'th' Owle,
And Morne to th' Larke lesse welcome
   Imo. Thankes Sir
   Arui. I pray draw neere.
Scena Octaua.
Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes.
  1.Sen. This is the tenor of the Emperors Writ;
That since the common men are now in Action
'Gainst the Pannonians, and Dalmatians,
And that the Legions now in Gallia, are
Full weake to vndertake our Warres against
The falne-off Britaines, that we do incite
The Gentry to this businesse. He creates
Lucius Pro-Consull: and to you the Tribunes
For this immediate Leuy, he commands
His absolute Commission. Long liue Caesar
   Tri. Is Lucius Generall of the Forces?
   Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?
  1.Sen. With those Legions
Which I haue spoke of, whereunto your leuie
Must be suppliant: the words of your Commission
Will tye you to the numbers, and the time
Of their dispatch
   Tri. We will discharge our duty.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clotten alone.
  Clot I am neere to'th' place where they should meet,
if Pisanio haue mapp'd it truely. How fit his Garments
serue me? Why should his Mistris who was made by him
that made the Taylor, not be fit too? The rather (sauing
reuerence of the Word) for 'tis saide a Womans fitnesse
comes by fits: therein I must play the Workman, I dare
speake it to my selfe, for it is not Vainglorie for a man,
and his Glasse, to confer in his owne Chamber; I meane,
the Lines of my body are as well drawne as his; no lesse
young, more strong, not beneath him in Fortunes, beyond
him in the aduantage of the time, aboue him in
Birth, alike conuersant in generall seruices, and more remarkeable
in single oppositions; yet this imperseuerant
Thing loues him in my despight. What Mortalitie is?
Posthumus, thy head (which now is growing vppon thy
shoulders) shall within this houre be off, thy Mistris inforced,
thy Garments cut to peeces before thy face: and
all this done, spurne her home to her Father, who may
(happily) be a little angry for my so rough vsage: but my
Mother hauing power of his testinesse, shall turne all into
my commendations. My Horse is tyed vp safe, out
Sword, and to a sore purpose: Fortune put them into my
hand: This is the very description of their meeting place
and the Fellow dares not deceiue me.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, and Imogen from the Caue.
  Bel. You are not well: Remaine heere in the Caue,
Wee'l come to you after Hunting
   Arui. Brother, stay heere:
Are we not Brothers?
  Imo. So man and man should be,
But Clay and Clay, differs in dignitie,
Whose dust is both alike. I am very sicke,
  Gui. Go you to Hunting, Ile abide with him
   Imo. So sicke I am not, yet I am not well:
But not so Citizen a wanton, as
To seeme to dye, ere sicke: So please you, leaue me,
Sticke to your Iournall course: the breach of Custome,
Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me
Cannot amend me. Society, is no comfort
To one not sociable: I am not very sicke,
Since I can reason of it: pray you trust me heere,
Ile rob none but my selfe, and let me dye
Stealing so poorely
   Gui. I loue thee: I haue spoke it,
How much the quantity, the waight as much,
As I do loue my Father
   Bel. What? How? how?
  Arui. If it be sinne to say so (Sir) I yoake mee
In my good Brothers fault: I know not why
I loue this youth, and I haue heard you say,
Loue's reason's, without reason. The Beere at doore,
And a demand who is't shall dye, I'ld say
My Father, not this youth
   Bel. Oh noble straine!
O worthinesse of Nature, breed of Greatnesse!
``Cowards father Cowards, & Base things Syre Bace;
``Nature hath Meale, and Bran; Contempt, and Grace.
I'me not their Father, yet who this should bee,
Doth myracle it selfe, lou'd before mee.
'Tis the ninth houre o'th' Morne
   Arui. Brother, farewell
   Imo. I wish ye sport
   Arui. You health. - So please you Sir
   Imo. These are kinde Creatures.
Gods, what lyes I haue heard:
Our Courtiers say, all's sauage, but at Court;
Experience, oh thou disproou'st Report.
Th' emperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish,
Poore Tributary Riuers, as sweet Fish:
I am sicke still, heart-sicke; Pisanio,
Ile now taste of thy Drugge
   Gui. I could not stirre him:
He said he was gentle, but vnfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest
   Arui. Thus did he answer me: yet said heereafter,
I might know more
   Bel. To'th' Field, to'th' Field:
Wee'l leaue you for this time, go in, and rest
   Arui. Wee'l not be long away
   Bel. Pray be not sicke,
For you must be our Huswife
   Imo. Well, or ill,
I am bound to you.
  Bel. And shal't be euer.
This youth, how ere distrest, appeares he hath had
Good Ancestors
   Arui. How Angell-like he sings?
  Gui. But his neate Cookerie?
  Arui. He cut our Rootes in Charracters,
And sawc'st our Brothes, as Iuno had bin sicke,
And he her Dieter
   Arui. Nobly he yoakes
A smiling, with a sigh; as if the sighe
Was that it was, for not being such a Smile:
The Smile, mocking the Sigh, that it would flye
From so diuine a Temple, to commix
With windes, that Saylors raile at
   Gui. I do note,
That greefe and patience rooted in them both,
Mingle their spurres together
   Arui. Grow patient,
And let the stinking-Elder (Greefe) vntwine
His perishing roote, with the encreasing Vine
   Bel. It is great morning. Come away: Who's there?
Enter Cloten.
  Clo. I cannot finde those Runnagates, that Villaine
Hath mock'd me. I am faint
   Bel. Those Runnagates?
Meanes he not vs? I partly know him, 'tis
Cloten, the Sonne o'th' Queene. I feare some Ambush:
I saw him not these many yeares, and yet
I know 'tis he: We are held as Out-Lawes: Hence
   Gui. He is but one: you, and my Brother search
What Companies are neere: pray you away,
Let me alone with him
   Clot. Soft, what are you
That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?
I haue heard of such. What Slaue art thou?
  Gui. A thing
More slauish did I ne're, then answering
A Slaue without a knocke
   Clot. Thou art a Robber,
A Law-breaker, a Villaine: yeeld thee Theefe
   Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I
An arme as bigge as thine? A heart, as bigge:
Thy words I grant are bigger: for I weare not
My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art:
Why I should yeeld to thee?
  Clot. Thou Villaine base,
Know'st me not by my Cloathes?
  Gui. No, nor thy Taylor, Rascall:
Who is thy Grandfather? He made those cloathes,
Which (as it seemes) make thee
   Clo. Thou precious Varlet,
My Taylor made them not
   Gui. Hence then, and thanke
The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole,
I am loath to beate thee
   Clot. Thou iniurious Theefe,
Heare but my name, and tremble
   Gui. What's thy name?
  Clo. Cloten, thou Villaine
   Gui. Cloten, thou double Villaine be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it, were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,
'Twould moue me sooner
   Clot. To thy further feare,
Nay, to thy meere Confusion, thou shalt know
I am Sonne to'th' Queene
   Gui. I am sorry for't: not seeming
So worthy as thy Birth
   Clot. Art not afeard?
  Gui. Those that I reuerence, those I feare: the Wise:
At Fooles I laugh: not feare them
   Clot. Dye the death:
When I haue slaine thee with my proper hand,
Ile follow those that euen now fled hence:
And on the Gates of Luds-Towne set your heads:
Yeeld Rusticke Mountaineer.
Fight and Exeunt.
Enter Belarius and Aruiragus.
  Bel. No Companie's abroad?
  Arui. None in the world: you did mistake him sure
   Bel. I cannot tell: Long is it since I saw him,
But Time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of Fauour
Which then he wore: the snatches in his voice,
And burst of speaking were as his: I am absolute
'Twas very Cloten
   Arui. In this place we left them;
I wish my Brother make good time with him,
You say he is so fell
   Bel. Being scarse made vp,
I meane to man; he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors: For defect of iudgement
Is oft the cause of Feare.
Enter Guiderius.
But see thy Brother
   Gui. This Cloten was a Foole, an empty purse,
There was no money in't: Not Hercules
Could haue knock'd out his Braines, for he had none:
Yet I not doing this, the Foole had borne
My head, as I do his
   Bel. What hast thou done?
  Gui. I am perfect what: cut off one Clotens head,
Sonne to the Queene (after his owne report)
Who call'd me Traitor, Mountaineer, and swore
With his owne single hand heel'd take vs in,
Displace our heads, where (thanks the Gods) they grow
And set them on Luds-Towne
   Bel. We are all vndone
   Gui. Why, worthy Father, what haue we to loose,
But that he swore to take our Liues? the Law
Protects not vs, then why should we be tender,
To let an arrogant peece of flesh threat vs?
Play Iudge, and Executioner, all himselfe?
For we do feare the Law. What company
Discouer you abroad?
  Bel. No single soule
Can we set eye on: but in all safe reason
He must haue some Attendants. Though his Honor
Was nothing but mutation, I, and that
From one bad thing to worse: Not Frenzie,
Not absolute madnesse could so farre haue rau'd
To bring him heere alone: although perhaps
It may be heard at Court, that such as wee
Caue heere, hunt heere, are Out-lawes, and in time
May make some stronger head, the which he hearing,
(As it is like him) might breake out, and sweare
Heel'd fetch vs in, yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he so vndertaking,
Or they so suffering: then on good ground we feare,
If we do feare this Body hath a taile
More perillous then the head
   Arui. Let Ord'nance
Come as the Gods fore-say it: howsoere,
My Brother hath done well
   Bel. I had no minde
To hunt this day: The Boy Fideles sickenesse
Did make my way long forth
   Gui. With his owne Sword,
Which he did waue against my throat, I haue tane
His head from him: Ile throw't into the Creeke
Behinde our Rocke, and let it to the Sea,
And tell the Fishes, hee's the Queenes Sonne, Cloten,
That's all I reake.
  Bel. I feare 'twill be reueng'd:
Would (Polidore) thou had'st not done't: though valour
Becomes thee well enough
   Arui. Would I had done't:
So the Reuenge alone pursu'de me: Polidore
I loue thee brotherly, but enuy much
Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would Reuenges
That possible strength might meet, wold seek vs through
And put vs to our answer
   Bel. Well, 'tis done:
Wee'l hunt no more to day, nor seeke for danger
Where there's no profit. I prythee to our Rocke,
You and Fidele play the Cookes: Ile stay
Till hasty Polidore returne, and bring him
To dinner presently
   Arui. Poore sicke Fidele.
Ile willingly to him, to gaine his colour,
Il'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,
And praise my selfe for charity.
  Bel. Oh thou Goddesse,
Thou diuine Nature; thou thy selfe thou blazon'st
In these two Princely Boyes: they are as gentle
As Zephires blowing below the Violet,
Not wagging his sweet head; and yet, as rough
(Their Royall blood enchaf'd) as the rud'st winde,
That by the top doth take the Mountaine Pine,
And make him stoope to th' Vale. 'Tis wonder
That an inuisible instinct should frame them
To Royalty vnlearn'd, Honor vntaught,
Ciuility not seene from other: valour
That wildely growes in them, but yeelds a crop
As if it had beene sow'd: yet still it's strange
What Clotens being heere to vs portends,
Or what his death will bring vs.
Enter Guidereus.
  Gui. Where's my Brother?
I haue sent Clotens Clot-pole downe the streame,
In Embassie to his Mother; his Bodie's hostage
For his returne.
Solemn Musick.
  Bel. My ingenuous Instrument,
(Hearke Polidore) it sounds: but what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to giue it motion? Hearke
   Gui. Is he at home?
  Bel. He went hence euen now
   Gui. What does he meane?
Since death of my deer'st Mother
It did not speake before. All solemne things
Should answer solemne Accidents. The matter?
Triumphes for nothing, and lamenting Toyes,
Is iollity for Apes, and greefe for Boyes.
Is Cadwall mad?
Enter Aruiragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his Armes.
  Bel. Looke, heere he comes,
And brings the dire occasion in his Armes,
Of what we blame him for
   Arui. The Bird is dead
That we haue made so much on. I had rather
Haue skipt from sixteene yeares of Age, to sixty:
To haue turn'd my leaping time into a Crutch,
Then haue seene this
   Gui. Oh sweetest, fayrest Lilly:
My Brother weares thee not the one halfe so well,
As when thou grew'st thy selfe
   Bel. Oh Melancholly,
Who euer yet could sound thy bottome? Finde
The Ooze, to shew what Coast thy sluggish care
Might'st easilest harbour in. Thou blessed thing,
Ioue knowes what man thou might'st haue made: but I,
Thou dyed'st a most rare Boy, of Melancholly.
How found you him?
  Arui. Starke, as you see:
Thus smiling, as some Fly had tickled slumber,
Not as deaths dart being laugh'd at: his right Cheeke
Reposing on a Cushion
   Gui. Where?
  Arui. O'th' floore:
His armes thus leagu'd, I thought he slept, and put
My clowted Brogues from off my feete, whose rudenesse
Answer'd my steps too lowd
   Gui. Why, he but sleepes:
If he be gone, hee'l make his Graue, a Bed:
With female Fayries will his Tombe be haunted,
And Wormes will not come to thee
   Arui. With fayrest Flowers
Whil'st Sommer lasts, and I liue heere, Fidele,
Ile sweeten thy sad graue: thou shalt not lacke
The Flower that's like thy face. Pale-Primrose, nor
The azur'd Hare-Bell, like thy Veines: no, nor
The leafe of Eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweetned not thy breath: the Raddocke would
With Charitable bill (Oh bill sore shaming
Those rich-left-heyres, that let their Fathers lye
Without a Monument) bring thee all this,
Yea, and furr'd Mosse besides. When Flowres are none
To winter-ground thy Coarse-
  Gui. Prythee haue done,
And do not play in Wench-like words with that
Which is so serious. Let vs bury him,
And not protract with admiration, what
Is now due debt. To'th' graue
   Arui. Say, where shall's lay him?
  Gui. By good Euriphile, our Mother
   Arui. Bee't so:
And let vs (Polidore) though now our voyces
Haue got the mannish cracke, sing him to'th' ground
As once to our Mother: vse like note, and words,
Saue that Euriphile, must be Fidele
   Gui. Cadwall,
I cannot sing: Ile weepe, and word it with thee;
For Notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse
Then Priests, and Phanes that lye
   Arui. Wee'l speake it then
   Bel. Great greefes I see med'cine the lesse: For Cloten
Is quite forgot. He was a Queenes Sonne, Boyes,
And though he came our Enemy, remember
He was paid for that: though meane, and mighty rotting
Together haue one dust, yet Reuerence
(That Angell of the world) doth make distinction
Of place 'tweene high, and low. Our Foe was Princely,
And though you tooke his life, as being our Foe,
Yet bury him, as a Prince
   Gui. Pray you fetch him hither,
Thersites body is as good as Aiax,
When neyther are aliue
   Arui. If you'l go fetch him,
Wee'l say our Song the whil'st: Brother begin
   Gui. Nay Cadwall, we must lay his head to th' East,
My Father hath a reason for't
   Arui. 'Tis true
   Gui. Come on then, and remoue him
   Arui. So, begin.
  Guid. Feare no more the heate o'th' Sun,
Nor the furious Winters rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast don,
Home art gon, and tane thy wages.
Golden Lads, and Girles all must,
As Chimney-Sweepers come to dust
   Arui. Feare no more the frowne o'th' Great,
Thou art past the Tirants stroake,
Care no more to cloath and eate,
To thee the Reede is as the Oake:
The Scepter, Learning, Physicke must,
All follow this and come to dust
   Guid. Feare no more the Lightning flash
   Arui. Nor th' all-dreaded Thunderstone
   Gui. Feare not Slander, Censure rash
   Arui. Thou hast finish'd Ioy and mone
   Both. All Louers young, all Louers must,
Consigne to thee and come to dust
   Guid. No Exorcisor harme thee,
  Arui. Nor no witch-craft charme thee
   Guid. Ghost vnlaid forbeare thee
   Arui. Nothing ill come neere thee
   Both. Quiet consumation haue,
And renowned be thy graue.
Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten.
  Gui. We haue done our obsequies:
Come lay him downe
   Bel. Heere's a few Flowres, but 'bout midnight more:
The hearbes that haue on them cold dew o'th' night
Are strewings fit'st for Graues: vpon their Faces.
You were as Flowres, now wither'd: euen so
These Herbelets shall, which we vpon you strew.
Come on, away, apart vpon our knees:
The ground that gaue them first, ha's them againe:
Their pleasures here are past, so are their paine.
Imogen awakes.
Yes Sir, to Milford-Hauen, which is the way?
I thanke you: by yond bush? pray how farre thether?
'Ods pittikins: can it be sixe mile yet?
I haue gone all night: 'Faith, Ile lye downe, and sleepe.
But soft; no Bedfellow? Oh Gods, and Goddesses!
These Flowres are like the pleasures of the World;
This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dreame:
For so I thought I was a Caue-keeper,
And Cooke to honest Creatures. But 'tis not so:
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot of nothing,
Which the Braine makes of Fumes. Our very eyes,
Are sometimes like our Iudgements, blinde. Good faith
I tremble still with feare: but if there be
Yet left in Heauen, as small a drop of pittie
As a Wrens eye; fear'd Gods, a part of it.
The Dreame's heere still: euen when I wake it is
Without me, as within me: not imagin'd, felt.
A headlesse man? The Garments of Posthumus?
I know the shape of's Legge: this is his Hand:
His Foote Mercuriall: his martiall Thigh
The brawnes of Hercules: but his Iouiall face-
Murther in heauen? How? 'tis gone. Pisanio,
All Curses madded Hecuba gaue the Greekes,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee: thou
Conspir'd with that Irregulous diuell Cloten,
Hath heere cut off my Lord. To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous. Damn'd Pisanio,
Hath with his forged Letters (damn'd Pisanio)
From this most brauest vessell of the world
Strooke the maine top! Oh Posthumus, alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Aye me! where's that?
Pisanio might haue kill'd thee at the heart,
And left this head on. How should this be, Pisanio?
'Tis he, and Cloten: Malice, and Lucre in them
Haue laid this Woe heere. Oh 'tis pregnant, pregnant!
The Drugge he gaue me, which hee said was precious
And Cordiall to me, haue I not found it
Murd'rous to'th' Senses? That confirmes it home:
This is Pisanio's deede, and Cloten: Oh!
Giue colour to my pale cheeke with thy blood,
That we the horrider may seeme to those
Which chance to finde vs. Oh, my Lord! my Lord!
Enter Lucius, Captaines, and a Soothsayer.
  Cap. To them, the Legions garrison'd in Gallia
After your will, haue crost the Sea, attending
You heere at Milford-Hauen, with your Shippes:
They are heere in readinesse
   Luc. But what from Rome?
  Cap. The Senate hath stirr'd vp the Confiners,
And Gentlemen of Italy, most willing Spirits,
That promise Noble Seruice: and they come
Vnder the Conduct of bold Iachimo,
Syenna's Brother
   Luc. When expect you them?
  Cap. With the next benefit o'th' winde
   Luc. This forwardnesse
Makes our hopes faire. Command our present numbers
Be muster'd: bid the Captaines looke too't. Now Sir,
What haue you dream'd of late of this warres purpose
   Sooth. Last night, the very Gods shew'd me a vision
(I fast, and pray'd for their Intelligence) thus:
I saw Ioues Bird, the Roman Eagle wing'd
From the spungy South, to this part of the West,
There vanish'd in the Sun-beames, which portends
(Vnlesse my sinnes abuse my Diuination)
Successe to th' Roman hoast
   Luc. Dreame often so,
And neuer false. Soft hoa, what truncke is heere?
Without his top? The ruine speakes, that sometime
It was a worthy building. How? a Page?
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather:
For Nature doth abhorre to make his bed
With the defunct, or sleepe vpon the dead.
Let's see the Boyes face
   Cap. Hee's aliue my Lord
   Luc. Hee'l then instruct vs of this body: Young one,
Informe vs of thy Fortunes, for it seemes
They craue to be demanded: who is this
Thou mak'st thy bloody Pillow? Or who was he
That (otherwise then noble Nature did)
Hath alter'd that good Picture? What's thy interest
In this sad wracke? How came't? Who is't?
What art thou?
  Imo. I am nothing; or if not,
Nothing to be were better: This was my Master,
A very valiant Britaine, and a good,
That heere by Mountaineers lyes slaine: Alas,
There is no more such Masters: I may wander
From East to Occident, cry out for Seruice,
Try many, all good: serue truly: neuer
Finde such another Master
   Luc. 'Lacke, good youth:
Thou mou'st no lesse with thy complaining, then
Thy Maister in bleeding: say his name, good Friend
   Imo. Richard du Champ: If I do lye, and do
No harme by it, though the Gods heare, I hope
They'l pardon it. Say you Sir?
  Luc. Thy name?
  Imo. Fidele Sir
   Luc. Thou doo'st approue thy selfe the very same:
Thy Name well fits thy Faith; thy Faith, thy Name:
Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say
Thou shalt be so well master'd, but be sure
No lesse belou'd. The Romane Emperors Letters
Sent by a Consull to me, should not sooner
Then thine owne worth preferre thee: Go with me
   Imo. Ile follow Sir. But first, and't please the Gods,
Ile hide my Master from the Flies, as deepe
As these poore Pickaxes can digge: and when
With wild wood-leaues & weeds, I ha' strew'd his graue
And on it said a Century of prayers
(Such as I can) twice o're, Ile weepe, and sighe,
And leauing so his seruice, follow you,
So please you entertaine mee
   Luc. I good youth,
And rather Father thee, then Master thee: My Friends,
The Boy hath taught vs manly duties: Let vs
Finde out the prettiest Dazied-Plot we can,
And make him with our Pikes and Partizans
A Graue: Come, Arme him: Boy hee's preferr'd
By thee, to vs, and he shall be interr'd
As Souldiers can. Be cheerefull; wipe thine eyes,
Some Falles are meanes the happier to arise.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.
  Cym. Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her,
A Feauour with the absence of her Sonne;
A madnesse, of which her life's in danger: Heauens,
How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene
Vpon a desperate bed, and in a time
When fearefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone,
So needfull for this present? It strikes me, past
The hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow,
Who needs must know of her departure, and
Dost seeme so ignorant, wee'l enforce it from thee
By a sharpe Torture
   Pis. Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly set it at your will: But for my Mistris,
I nothing know where she remaines: why gone,
Nor when she purposes returne. Beseech your Highnes,
Hold me your loyall Seruant
   Lord. Good my Liege,
The day that she was missing, he was heere;
I dare be bound hee's true, and shall performe
All parts of his subiection loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in seeking him,
And will no doubt be found
   Cym. The time is troublesome:
Wee'l slip you for a season, but our iealousie
Do's yet depend
   Lord. So please your Maiesty,
The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne,
Are landed on your Coast, with a supply
Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent
   Cym. Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen,
I am amaz'd with matter
   Lord. Good my Liege,
Your preparation can affront no lesse
Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you're ready:
The want is, but to put those Powres in motion,
That long to moue
   Cym. I thanke you: let's withdraw
And meete the Time, as it seekes vs. We feare not
What can from Italy annoy vs, but
We greeue at chances heere. Away.
  Pisa. I heard no Letter from my Master, since
I wrote him Imogen was slaine. 'Tis strange:
Nor heare I from my Mistris, who did promise
To yeeld me often tydings. Neither know I
What is betide to Cloten, but remaine
Perplext in all. The Heauens still must worke:
Wherein I am false, I am honest: not true, to be true.
These present warres shall finde I loue my Country,
Euen to the note o'th' King, or Ile fall in them:
All other doubts, by time let them be cleer'd,
Fortune brings in some Boats, that are not steer'd.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, & Aruiragus.
  Gui. The noyse is round about vs
   Bel. Let vs from it
   Arui. What pleasure Sir, we finde in life, to locke it
From Action, and Aduenture
   Gui. Nay, what hope
Haue we in hiding vs? This way the Romaines
Must, or for Britaines slay vs, or receiue vs
For barbarous and vnnaturall Reuolts
During their vse, and slay vs after
   Bel. Sonnes,
Wee'l higher to the Mountaines, there secure vs.
To the Kings party there's no going: newnesse
Of Clotens death (we being not knowne, nor muster'd
Among the Bands) may driue vs to a render
Where we haue liu'd; and so extort from's that
Which we haue done, whose answer would be death
Drawne on with Torture
   Gui. This is (Sir) a doubt
In such a time, nothing becomming you,
Nor satisfying vs
   Arui. It is not likely,
That when they heare their Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter'd Fires; haue both their eyes
And eares so cloyd importantly as now,
That they will waste their time vpon our note,
To know from whence we are
   Bel. Oh, I am knowne
Of many in the Army: Many yeeres
(Though Cloten then but young) you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And besides, the King
Hath not deseru'd my Seruice, nor your Loues,
Who finde in my Exile, the want of Breeding;
The certainty of this heard life, aye hopelesse
To haue the courtesie your Cradle promis'd,
But to be still hot Summers Tanlings, and
The shrinking Slaues of Winter
   Gui. Then be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray Sir, to'th' Army:
I, and my Brother are not knowne; your selfe
So out of thought, and thereto so ore-growne,
Cannot be question'd
   Arui. By this Sunne that shines
Ile thither: What thing is't, that I neuer
Did see man dye, scarse euer look'd on blood,
But that of Coward Hares, hot Goats, and Venison?
Neuer bestrid a Horse saue one, that had
A Rider like my selfe, who ne're wore Rowell,
Nor Iron on his heele? I am asham'd
To looke vpon the holy Sunne, to haue
The benefit of his blest Beames, remaining
So long a poore vnknowne
   Gui. By heauens Ile go,
If you will blesse me Sir, and giue me leaue,
Ile take the better care: but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romaines
   Arui. So say I, Amen
   Bel. No reason I (since of your liues you set
So slight a valewation) should reserue
My crack'd one to more care. Haue with you Boyes:
If in your Country warres you chance to dye,
That is my Bed too (Lads) and there Ile lye.
Lead, lead; the time seems long, their blood thinks scorn
Till it flye out, and shew them Princes borne.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Posthumus alone.
  Post. Yea bloody cloth, Ile keep thee: for I am wisht
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murther Wiues much better then themselues
For wrying but a little? Oh Pisanio,
Euery good Seruant do's not all Commands:
No Bond, but to do iust ones. Gods, if you
Should haue 'tane vengeance on my faults, I neuer
Had liu'd to put on this: so had you saued
The noble Imogen, to repent, and strooke
Me (wretch) more worth your Vengeance. But alacke,
You snatch some hence for little faults; that's loue
To haue them fall no more: you some permit
To second illes with illes, each elder worse,
And make them dread it, to the dooers thrift.
But Imogen is your owne, do your best willes,
And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither
Among th' Italian Gentry, and to fight
Against my Ladies Kingdome: 'Tis enough
That (Britaine) I haue kill'd thy Mistris: Peace,
Ile giue no wound to thee: therefore good Heauens,
Heare patiently my purpose. Ile disrobe me
Of these Italian weedes, and suite my selfe
As do's a Britaine Pezant: so Ile fight
Against the part I come with: so Ile dye
For thee (O Imogen) euen for whom my life
Is euery breath, a death: and thus, vnknowne,
Pittied, nor hated, to the face of perill
My selfe Ile dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, then my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o'th'Leonati in me:
To shame the guize o'th' world, I will begin,
The fashion lesse without, and more within.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Romane Army at one doore: and
the Britaine
Army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poore
Souldier. They
march ouer, and goe out. Then enter againe in Skirmish Iachimo
Posthumus: he vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then
  Iac. The heauinesse and guilt within my bosome,
Takes off my manhood: I haue belyed a Lady,
The Princesse of this Country; and the ayre on't
Reuengingly enfeebles me, or could this Carle,
A very drudge of Natures, haue subdu'de me
In my profession? Knighthoods, and Honors borne
As I weare mine) are titles but of scorne.
If that thy Gentry (Britaine) go before
This Lowt, as he exceeds our Lords, the oddes
Is, that we scarse are men, and you are Goddes.
The Battaile continues, the Britaines fly, Cymbeline is taken: Then
to his rescue, Bellarius, Guiderius, and Aruiragus.
  Bel. Stand, stand, we haue th' aduantage of the ground,
The Lane is guarded: Nothing rowts vs, but
The villany of our feares
   Gui. Arui. Stand, stand, and fight.
Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britaines. They Rescue
Cymbeline, and
Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.
  Luc. Away boy from the Troopes, and saue thy selfe:
For friends kil friends, and the disorder's such
As warre were hood-wink'd
   Iac. 'Tis their fresh supplies
   Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes
Let's re-inforce, or fly.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Posthumus, and a Britaine Lord.
  Lor. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?
  Post. I did,
Though you it seemes come from the Fliers?
   Post. No blame be to you Sir, for all was lost,
But that the Heauens fought: the King himselfe
Of his wings destitute, the Army broken,
And but the backes of Britaines seene; all flying
Through a strait Lane, the Enemy full-heart'd,
Lolling the Tongue with slaught'ring: hauing worke
More plentifull, then Tooles to doo't: strooke downe
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
Meerely through feare, that the strait passe was damm'd
With deadmen, hurt behinde, and Cowards liuing
To dye with length'ned shame
   Lo. Where was this Lane?
  Post. Close by the battell, ditch'd, & wall'd with turph,
Which gaue aduantage to an ancient Soldiour
(An honest one I warrant) who deseru'd
So long a breeding, as his white beard came to,
In doing this for's Country. Athwart the Lane,
He, with two striplings (Lads more like to run
The Country base, then to commit such slaughter,
With faces fit for Maskes, or rather fayrer
Then those for preseruation cas'd, or shame)
Made good the passage, cryed to those that fled.
Our Britaines hearts dye flying, not our men,
To darknesse fleete soules that flye backwards; stand,
Or we are Romanes, and will giue you that
Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may saue
But to looke backe in frowne: Stand, stand. These three,
Three thousand confident, in acte as many:
For three performers are the File, when all
The rest do nothing. With this word stand, stand,
Accomodated by the Place; more Charming
With their owne Noblenesse, which could haue turn'd
A Distaffe, to a Lance, guilded pale lookes;
Part shame, part spirit renew'd, that some turn'd coward
But by example (Oh a sinne in Warre,
Damn'd in the first beginners) gan to looke
The way that they did, and to grin like Lyons
Vpon the Pikes o'th' Hunters. Then beganne
A stop i'th' Chaser; a Retyre: Anon
A Rowt, confusion thicke: forthwith they flye
Chickens, the way which they stopt Eagles: Slaues
The strides the Victors made: and now our Cowards
Like Fragments in hard Voyages became
The life o'th' need: hauing found the backe doore open
Of the vnguarded hearts: heauens, how they wound,
Some slaine before some dying; some their Friends
Ore-borne i'th' former waue, ten chac'd by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those that would dye, or ere resist, are growne
The mortall bugs o'th' Field
   Lord. This was strange chance:
A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes
   Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
Rather to wonder at the things you heare,
Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't,
And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one:
``Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,
``Preseru'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane
   Lord. Nay, be not angry Sir
   Post. Lacke, to what end?
Who dares not stand his Foe, Ile be his Friend:
For if hee'l do, as he is made to doo,
I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too.
You haue put me into Rime
   Lord. Farewell, you're angry.
  Post. Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble misery
To be i'th' Field, and aske what newes of me:
To day, how many would haue giuen their Honours
To haue sau'd their Carkasses? Tooke heele to doo't,
And yet dyed too. I, in mine owne woe charm'd
Could not finde death, where I did heare him groane,
Nor feele him where he strooke. Being an vgly Monster,
'Tis strange he hides him in fresh Cups, soft Beds,
Sweet words; or hath moe ministers then we
That draw his kniues i'th' War. Well I will finde him:
For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine,
No more a Britaine, I haue resum'd againe
The part I came in. Fight I will no more,
But yeeld me to the veriest Hinde, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Heere made by'th' Romane; great the Answer be
Britaines must take. For me, my Ransome's death,
On eyther side I come to spend my breath;
Which neyther heere Ile keepe, nor beare agen,
But end it by some meanes for Imogen.
Enter two Captaines, and Soldiers.
  1 Great Iupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken,
'Tis thought the old man, and his sonnes, were Angels
   2 There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
That gaue th' Affront with them
   1 So 'tis reported:
But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there?
  Post. A Roman,
Who had not now beene drooping heere, if Seconds
Had answer'd him
   2 Lay hands on him: a Dogge,
A legge of Rome shall not returne to tell
What Crows haue peckt them here: he brags his seruice
As if he were of note: bring him to'th' King.
Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and
Captiues. The Captaines present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who
deliuers him
ouer to a Gaoler.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Posthumus, and Gaoler.
  Gao. You shall not now be stolne,
You haue lockes vpon you:
So graze, as you finde Pasture
   2.Gao. I, or a stomacke
   Post. Most welcome bondage; for thou art a way
(I thinke) to liberty: yet am I better
Then one that's sicke o'th' Gowt, since he had rather
Groane so in perpetuity, then be cur'd
By'th' sure Physitian, Death; who is the key
T' vnbarre these Lockes. My Conscience, thou art fetter'd
More then my shanks, & wrists: you good Gods giue me
The penitent Instrument to picke that Bolt,
Then free for euer. Is't enough I am sorry?
So Children temporall Fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent,
I cannot do it better then in Gyues,
Desir'd, more then constrain'd, to satisfie
If of my Freedome 'tis the maine part, take
No stricter render of me, then my All.
I know you are more clement then vilde men,
Who of their broken Debtors take a third,
A sixt, a tenth, letting them thriue againe
On their abatement; that's not my desire.
For Imogens deere life, take mine, and though
'Tis not so deere, yet 'tis a life; you coyn'd it,
'Tweene man, and man, they waigh not euery stampe:
Though light, take Peeces for the figures sake,
(You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres,
If you will take this Audit, take this life,
And cancell these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen,
Ile speake to thee in silence.
Solemne Musicke. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leonatus,
to Posthumus, an old man, attyred like a warriour, leading in his
ancient Matron (his wife, & Mother to Posthumus) with Musicke
before them.
Then after other Musicke, followes the two young Leonati
(Brothers to
Posthumus) with wounds as they died in the warrs. They circle
round as he lies sleeping.
  Sicil. No more thou Thunder-Master
shew thy spight, on Mortall Flies:
With Mars fall out with Iuno chide, that thy Adulteries
Rates, and Reuenges.
Hath my poore Boy done ought but well,
whose face I neuer saw:
I dy'de whil'st in the Wombe he staide,
attending Natures Law.
Whose Father then (as men report,
thou Orphanes Father art)
Thou should'st haue bin, and sheelded him,
from this earth-vexing smart
   Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde,
but tooke me in my Throwes,
That from me was Posthumus ript,
came crying 'mong'st his Foes.
A thing of pitty
   Sicil. Great Nature like his Ancestrie,
moulded the stuffe so faire:
That he deseru'd the praise o'th' World,
as great Sicilius heyre
   1.Bro. When once he was mature for man,
in Britaine where was hee
That could stand vp his paralell?
Or fruitfull obiect bee?
In eye of Imogen, that best could deeme
his dignitie
   Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt
to be exil'd, and throwne
From Leonati Seate, and cast from her,
his deerest one:
Sweete Imogen?
  Sic. Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy,
To taint his Nobler hart & braine, with needlesse ielousy,
And to become the geeke and scorne o'th' others vilany?
  2 Bro. For this, from stiller Seats we came,
our Parents, and vs twaine,
That striking in our Countries cause,
fell brauely, and were slaine,
Our Fealty, & Tenantius right, with Honor to maintaine
   1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hath
to Cymbeline perform'd:
Then Iupiter, y King of Gods, why hast y thus adiourn'd
The Graces for his Merits due, being all to dolors turn'd?
  Sicil. Thy Christall window ope; looke,
looke out, no longer exercise
Vpon a valiant Race, thy harsh, and potent iniuries:
  Moth. Since (Iupiter) our Son is good,
take off his miseries
   Sicil. Peepe through thy Marble Mansion, helpe,
or we poore Ghosts will cry
To'th' shining Synod of the rest, against thy Deity
   Brothers. Helpe (Iupiter) or we appeale,
and from thy iustice flye.
Iupiter descends in Thunder and Lightning, sitting vppon an Eagle:
throwes a Thunder-bolt. The Ghostes fall on their knees.
  Iupiter. No more you petty Spirits of Region low
Offend our hearing: hush. How dare you Ghostes
Accuse the Thunderer, whose Bolt (you know)
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling Coasts.
Poore shadowes of Elizium, hence, and rest
Vpon your neuer-withering bankes of Flowres.
Be not with mortall accidents opprest,
No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours.
Whom best I loue, I crosse; to make my guift
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content,
Your low-laide Sonne, our Godhead will vplift:
His Comforts thriue, his Trials well are spent:
Our Iouiall Starre reign'd at his Birth, and in
Our Temple was he married: Rise, and fade,
He shall be Lord of Lady Imogen,
And happier much by his Affliction made
This Tablet lay vpon his Brest, wherein
Our pleasure, his full Fortune, doth confine,
And so away: no farther with your dinne
Expresse Impatience, least you stirre vp mine:
Mount Eagle, to my Palace Christalline.
  Sicil. He came in Thunder, his Celestiall breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy Eagle
Stoop'd, as to foote vs: his Ascension is
More sweet then our blest Fields: his Royall Bird
Prunes the immortall wing, and cloyes his Beake,
As when his God is pleas'd
   All. Thankes Iupiter
   Sic. The Marble Pauement clozes, he is enter'd
His radiant Roofe: Away, and to be blest
Let vs with care performe his great behest.
  Post. Sleepe, thou hast bin a Grandsire, and begot
A Father to me: and thou hast created
A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh scorne)
Gone, they went hence so soone as they were borne:
And so I am awake. Poore Wretches, that depend
On Greatnesse, Fauour; Dreame as I haue done,
Wake, and finde nothing. But (alas) I swerue:
Many Dreame not to finde, neither deserue,
And yet are steep'd in Fauours; so am I
That haue this Golden chance, and know not why:
What Fayeries haunt this ground? A Book? Oh rare one,
Be not, as is our fangled world, a Garment
Nobler then that it couers. Let thy effects
So follow, to be most vnlike our Courtiers,
As good, as promise.
When as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, without
seeking finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender
Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches,
which being dead many yeares, shall after reuiue, bee ioynted to
the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his
miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plentie.
'Tis still a Dreame: or else such stuffe as Madmen
Tongue, and braine not: either both, or nothing
Or senselesse speaking, or a speaking such
As sense cannot vntye. Be what it is,
The Action of my life is like it, which Ile keepe
If but for simpathy.
Enter Gaoler.
  Gao. Come Sir, are you ready for death?
  Post. Ouer-roasted rather: ready long ago
   Gao. Hanging is the word, Sir, if you bee readie for
that, you are well Cook'd
   Post. So if I proue a good repast to the Spectators, the
dish payes the shot
   Gao. A heauy reckoning for you Sir: But the comfort
is you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more
Tauerne Bils, which are often the sadnesse of parting, as
the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of
meate, depart reeling with too much drinke: sorrie that
you haue payed too much, and sorry that you are payed
too much: Purse and Braine, both empty: the Brain the
heauier, for being too light; the Purse too light, being
drawne of heauinesse. Oh, of this contradiction you shall
now be quit: Oh the charity of a penny Cord, it summes
vp thousands in a trice: you haue no true Debitor, and
Creditor but it: of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge:
your necke (Sir) is Pen, Booke, and Counters; so
the Acquittance followes
   Post. I am merrier to dye, then thou art to liue
   Gao. Indeed Sir, he that sleepes, feeles not the Tooth-Ache:
but a man that were to sleepe your sleepe, and a
Hangman to helpe him to bed, I think he would change
places with his Officer: for, look you Sir, you know not
which way you shall go
   Post. Yes indeed do I, fellow
   Gao. Your death has eyes in's head then: I haue not
seene him so pictur'd: you must either bee directed by
some that take vpon them to know, or to take vpon your
selfe that which I am sure you do not know: or iump the
after-enquiry on your owne perill: and how you shall
speed in your iournies end, I thinke you'l neuer returne
   Post. I tell thee, Fellow, there are none want eyes, to
direct them the way I am going, but such as winke, and
will not vse them
   Gao. What an infinite mocke is this, that a man shold
haue the best vse of eyes, to see the way of blindnesse: I
am sure hanging's the way of winking.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. Knocke off his Manacles, bring your Prisoner to
   Post. Thou bring'st good newes, I am call'd to bee
   Gao. Ile be hang'd then
   Post. Thou shalt be then freer then a Gaoler; no bolts
for the dead
   Gao. Vnlesse a man would marry a Gallowes, & beget
yong Gibbets, I neuer saw one so prone: yet on my
Conscience, there are verier Knaues desire to liue, for all
he be a Roman; and there be some of them too that dye
against their willes; so should I, if I were one. I would
we were all of one minde, and one minde good: O there
were desolation of Gaolers and Galowses: I speake against
my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment
Scena Quinta.
Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Guiderius, Aruiragus, Pisanio, and
  Cym. Stand by my side you, whom the Gods haue made
Preseruers of my Throne: woe is my heart,
That the poore Souldier that so richly fought,
Whose ragges, sham'd gilded Armes, whose naked brest
Stept before Targes of proofe, cannot be found:
He shall be happy that can finde him, if
Our Grace can make him so
   Bel. I neuer saw
Such Noble fury in so poore a Thing;
Such precious deeds, in one that promist nought
But beggery, and poore lookes
   Cym. No tydings of him?
  Pisa. He hath bin search'd among the dead, & liuing;
But no trace of him
   Cym. To my greefe, I am
The heyre of his Reward, which I will adde
To you (the Liuer, Heart, and Braine of Britaine)
By whom (I grant) she liues. 'Tis now the time
To aske of whence you are. Report it
   Bel. Sir,
In Cambria are we borne, and Gentlemen:
Further to boast, were neyther true, nor modest,
Vnlesse I adde, we are honest
   Cym. Bow your knees:
Arise my Knights o'th' Battell, I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With Dignities becomming your estates.
Enter Cornelius and Ladies.
There's businesse in these faces: why so sadly
Greet you our Victory? you looke like Romaines,
And not o'th' Court of Britaine
   Corn. Hayle great King,
To sowre your happinesse, I must report
The Queene is dead
   Cym. Who worse then a Physitian
Would this report become? But I consider,
By Med'cine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the Doctor too. How ended she?
  Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life,
Which (being cruell to the world) concluded
Most cruell to her selfe. What she confest,
I will report, so please you. These her Women
Can trip me, if I erre, who with wet cheekes
Were present when she finish'd
   Cym. Prythee say
   Cor. First, she confest she neuer lou'd you: onely
Affected Greatnesse got by you: not you:
Married your Royalty, was wife to your place:
Abhorr'd your person
   Cym. She alone knew this:
And but she spoke it dying, I would not
Beleeue her lips in opening it. Proceed
   Corn. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to loue
With such integrity, she did confesse
Was as a Scorpion to her sight, whose life
(But that her flight preuented it) she had
Tane off by poyson
   Cym. O most delicate Fiend!
Who is't can reade a Woman? Is there more?
  Corn. More Sir, and worse. She did confesse she had
For you a mortall Minerall, which being tooke,
Should by the minute feede on life, and ling'ring,
By inches waste you. In which time, she purpos'd
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
Orecome you with her shew; and in time
(When she had fitted you with her craft, to worke
Her Sonne into th' adoption of the Crowne:
But fayling of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shamelesse desperate, open'd (in despight
Of Heauen, and Men) her purposes: repented
The euils she hatch'd, were not effected: so
Dispayring, dyed
   Cym. Heard you all this, her Women?
  La. We did, so please your Highnesse
   Cym. Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautifull:
Mine eares that heare her flattery, nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming. It had beene vicious
To haue mistrusted her: yet (Oh my Daughter)
That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
And proue it in thy feeling. Heauen mend all.
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and other Roman prisoners, Leonatus
Thou comm'st not Caius now for Tribute, that
The Britaines haue rac'd out, though with the losse
Of many a bold one: whose Kinsmen haue made suite
That their good soules may be appeas'd, with slaughter
Of you their Captiues, which our selfe haue granted,
So thinke of your estate
   Luc. Consider Sir, the chance of Warre, the day
Was yours by accident: had it gone with vs,
We should not when the blood was cool, haue threatend
Our Prisoners with the Sword. But since the Gods
Will haue it thus, that nothing but our liues
May be call'd ransome, let it come: Sufficeth,
A Roman, with a Romans heart can suffer:
Augustus liues to thinke on't: and so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing onely
I will entreate, my Boy (a Britaine borne)
Let him be ransom'd: Neuer Master had
A Page so kinde, so duteous, diligent,
So tender ouer his occasions, true,
So feate, so Nurse-like: let his vertue ioyne
With my request, which Ile make bold your Highnesse
Cannot deny: he hath done no Britaine harme,
Though he haue seru'd a Roman. Saue him (Sir)
And spare no blood beside
   Cym. I haue surely seene him:
His fauour is familiar to me: Boy,
Thou hast look'd thy selfe into my grace,
And art mine owne. I know not why, wherefore,
To say, liue boy: ne're thanke thy Master, liue;
And aske of Cymbeline what Boone thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, Ile giue it:
Yea, though thou do demand a Prisoner
The Noblest tane
   Imo. I humbly thanke your Highnesse
   Luc. I do not bid thee begge my life, good Lad,
And yet I know thou wilt
   Imo. No, no, alacke,
There's other worke in hand: I see a thing
Bitter to me, as death: your life, good Master,
Must shuffle for it selfe
   Luc. The Boy disdaines me,
He leaues me, scornes me: briefely dye their ioyes,
That place them on the truth of Gyrles, and Boyes.
Why stands he so perplext?
  Cym. What would'st thou Boy?
I loue thee more, and more: thinke more and more
What's best to aske. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak
Wilt haue him liue? Is he thy Kin? thy Friend?
  Imo. He is a Romane, no more kin to me,
Then I to your Highnesse, who being born your vassaile
Am something neerer
   Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so?
  Imo. Ile tell you (Sir) in priuate, if you please
To giue me hearing
   Cym. I, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
  Imo. Fidele Sir
   Cym. Thou'rt my good youth: my Page
Ile be thy Master: walke with me: speake freely
   Bel. Is not this Boy reuiu'd from death?
  Arui. One Sand another
Not more resembles that sweet Rosie Lad:
Who dyed, and was Fidele: what thinke you?
  Gui. The same dead thing aliue
   Bel. Peace, peace, see further: he eyes vs not, forbeare
Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure
He would haue spoke to vs
   Gui. But we see him dead
   Bel. Be silent: let's see further
   Pisa. It is my Mistris:
Since she is liuing, let the time run on,
To good, or bad
   Cym. Come, stand thou by our side,
Make thy demand alowd. Sir, step you forth,
Giue answer to this Boy, and do it freely,
Or by our Greatnesse, and the grace of it
(Which is our Honor) bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falshood. One speake to him
   Imo. My boone is, that this Gentleman may render
Of whom he had this Ring
   Post. What's that to him?
  Cym. That Diamond vpon your Finger, say
How came it yours?
  Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leaue vnspoken, that
Which to be spoke, wou'd torture thee
   Cym. How? me?
  Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to vtter that
Which torments me to conceale. By Villany
I got this Ring: 'twas Leonatus Iewell,
Whom thou did'st banish: and which more may greeue thee,
As it doth me: a Nobler Sir, ne're liu'd
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou heare more my Lord?
  Cym. All that belongs to this
   Iach. That Paragon, thy daughter,
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quaile to remember. Giue me leaue, I faint
   Cym. My Daughter? what of hir? Renew thy strength
I had rather thou should'st liue, while Nature will,
Then dye ere I heare more: striue man, and speake
   Iach. Vpon a time, vnhappy was the clocke
That strooke the houre: it was in Rome, accurst
The Mansion where: 'twas at a Feast, oh would
Our Viands had bin poyson'd (or at least
Those which I heau'd to head:) the good Posthumus,
(What should I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were, and was the best of all
Among'st the rar'st of good ones) sitting sadly,
Hearing vs praise our Loues of Italy
For Beauty, that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speake: for Feature, laming
The Shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerua,
Postures, beyond breefe Nature. For Condition,
A shop of all the qualities, that man
Loues woman for, besides that hooke of Wiuing,
Fairenesse, which strikes the eye
   Cym. I stand on fire. Come to the matter
   Iach. All too soone I shall,
Vnlesse thou would'st greeue quickly. This Posthumus,
Most like a Noble Lord, in loue, and one
That had a Royall Louer, tooke his hint,
And (not dispraising whom we prais'd, therein
He was as calme as vertue) he began
His Mistris picture, which, by his tongue, being made,
And then a minde put in't, either our bragges
Were crak'd of Kitchin-Trulles, or his description
Prou'd vs vnspeaking sottes
   Cym. Nay, nay, to'th' purpose
   Iach. Your daughters Chastity, (there it beginnes)
He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreames,
And she alone, were cold: Whereat, I wretch
Made scruple of his praise, and wager'd with him
Peeces of Gold, 'gainst this, which then he wore
Vpon his honour'd finger) to attaine
In suite the place of's bed, and winne this Ring
By hers, and mine Adultery: he (true Knight)
No lesser of her Honour confident
Then I did truly finde her, stakes this Ring,
And would so, had it beene a Carbuncle
Of Phoebus Wheele; and might so safely, had it
Bin all the worth of's Carre. Away to Britaine
Poste I in this designe: Well may you (Sir)
Remember me at Court, where I was taught
Of your chaste Daughter, the wide difference
'Twixt Amorous, and Villanous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing; mine Italian braine,
Gan in your duller Britaine operate
Most vildely: for my vantage excellent.
And to be breefe, my practise so preuayl'd
That I return'd with simular proofe enough,
To make the Noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his beleefe in her Renowne,
With Tokens thus, and thus: auerring notes
Of Chamber-hanging, Pictures, this her Bracelet
(Oh cunning how I got) nay some markes
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But thinke her bond of Chastity quite crack'd,
I hauing 'tane the forfeyt. Whereupon,
Me thinkes I see him now
   Post. I so thou do'st,
Italian Fiend. Aye me, most credulous Foole,
Egregious murtherer, Theefe, any thing
That's due to all the Villaines past, in being
To come. Oh giue me Cord, or knife, or poyson,
Some vpright Iusticer. Thou King, send out
For Torturors ingenious: it is I
That all th' abhorred things o'th' earth amend
By being worse then they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy Daughter: Villain-like, I lye,
That caus'd a lesser villaine then my selfe,
A sacrilegious Theefe to doo't. The Temple
Of Vertue was she; yea, and she her selfe.
Spit, and throw stones, cast myre vpon me, set
The dogges o'th' street to bay me: euery villaine
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus, and
Be villany lesse then 'twas. Oh Imogen!
My Queene, my life, my wife: oh Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen
   Imo. Peace my Lord, heare, heare
   Post. Shall's haue a play of this?
Thou scornfull Page, there lye thy part
   Pis. Oh Gentlemen, helpe,
Mine and your Mistris: Oh my Lord Posthumus,
You ne're kill'd Imogen till now: helpe, helpe,
Mine honour'd Lady
   Cym. Does the world go round?
  Posth. How comes these staggers on mee?
  Pisa. Wake my Mistris
   Cym. If this be so, the Gods do meane to strike me
To death, with mortall ioy
   Pisa. How fares my Mistris?
  Imo. Oh get thee from my sight,
Thou gau'st me poyson: dangerous Fellow hence,
Breath not where Princes are
   Cym. The tune of Imogen
   Pisa. Lady, the Gods throw stones of sulpher on me, if
That box I gaue you, was not thought by mee
A precious thing, I had it from the Queene
   Cym. New matter still
   Imo. It poyson'd me
   Corn. Oh Gods!
I left out one thing which the Queene confest,
Which must approue thee honest. If Pasanio
Haue (said she) giuen his Mistris that Confection
Which I gaue him for Cordiall, she is seru'd,
As I would serue a Rat
   Cym. What's this, Cornelius?
  Corn. The Queene (Sir) very oft importun'd me
To temper poysons for her, still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, onely
In killing Creatures vilde, as Cats and Dogges
Of no esteeme. I dreading, that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certaine stuffe, which being tane, would cease
The present powre of life, but in short time,
All Offices of Nature, should againe
Do their due Functions. Haue you tane of it?
  Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead
   Bel. My Boyes, there was our error
   Gui. This is sure Fidele
   Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro[m] you?
Thinke that you are vpon a Rocke, and now
Throw me againe
   Post. Hang there like fruite, my soule,
Till the Tree dye
   Cym. How now, my Flesh? my Childe?
What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this Act?
Wilt thou not speake to me?
  Imo. Your blessing, Sir
   Bel. Though you did loue this youth, I blame ye not,
You had a motiue for't
   Cym. My teares that fall
Proue holy-water on thee; Imogen,
Thy Mothers dead
   Imo. I am sorry for't, my Lord
   Cym. Oh, she was naught; and long of her it was
That we meet heere so strangely: but her Sonne
Is gone, we know not how, nor where
   Pisa. My Lord,
Now feare is from me, Ile speake troth. Lord Cloten
Vpon my Ladies missing, came to me
With his Sword drawne, foam'd at the mouth, and swore
If I discouer'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death. By accident,
I had a feigned Letter of my Masters
Then in my pocket, which directed him
To seeke her on the Mountaines neere to Milford,
Where in a frenzie, in my Masters Garments
(Which he inforc'd from me) away he postes
With vnchaste purpose, and with oath to violate
My Ladies honor, what became of him,
I further know not
   Gui. Let me end the Story: I slew him there
   Cym. Marry, the Gods forefend.
I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips
Plucke a hard sentence: Prythee valiant youth
Deny't againe
   Gui. I haue spoke it, and I did it
   Cym. He was a Prince
   Gui. A most inciuill one. The wrongs he did mee
Were nothing Prince-like; for he did prouoke me
With Language that would make me spurne the Sea,
If it could so roare to me. I cut off's head,
And am right glad he is not standing heere
To tell this tale of mine
   Cym. I am sorrow for thee:
By thine owne tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead
   Imo. That headlesse man I thought had bin my Lord
  Cym. Binde the Offender,
And take him from our presence
   Bel. Stay, Sir King.
This man is better then the man he slew,
As well descended as thy selfe, and hath
More of thee merited, then a Band of Clotens
Had euer scarre for. Let his Armes alone,
They were not borne for bondage
   Cym. Why old Soldier:
Wilt thou vndoo the worth thou art vnpayd for
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?
  Arui. In that he spake too farre
   Cym. And thou shalt dye for't
   Bel. We will dye all three,
But I will proue that two one's are as good
As I haue giuen out him. My Sonnes, I must
For mine owne part, vnfold a dangerous speech,
Though haply well for you
   Arui. Your danger's ours
   Guid. And our good his
   Bel. Haue at it then, by leaue
Thou hadd'st (great King) a Subiect, who
Was call'd Belarius
   Cym. What of him? He is a banish'd Traitor
   Bel. He it is, that hath
Assum'd this age: indeed a banish'd man,
I know not how, a Traitor
   Cym. Take him hence,
The whole world shall not saue him
   Bel. Not too hot;
First pay me for the Nursing of thy Sonnes,
And let it be confiscate all, so soone
As I haue receyu'd it
   Cym. Nursing of my Sonnes?
  Bel. I am too blunt, and sawcy: heere's my knee:
Ere I arise, I will preferre my Sonnes,
Then spare not the old Father. Mighty Sir,
These two young Gentlemen that call me Father,
And thinke they are my Sonnes, are none of mine,
They are the yssue of your Loynes, my Liege,
And blood of your begetting
   Cym. How? my Issue
   Bel. So sure as you, your Fathers: I (old Morgan)
Am that Belarius, whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my neere offence, my punishment
It selfe, and all my Treason that I suffer'd,
Was all the harme I did. These gentle Princes
(For such, and so they are) these twenty yeares
Haue I train'd vp; those Arts they haue, as I
Could put into them. My breeding was (Sir)
As your Highnesse knowes: Their Nurse Euriphile
(Whom for the Theft I wedded) stole these Children
Vpon my Banishment: I moou'd her too't,
Hauing receyu'd the punishment before
For that which I did then. Beaten for Loyaltie,
Excited me to Treason. Their deere losse,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Vnto my end of stealing them. But gracious Sir,
Heere are your Sonnes againe, and I must loose
Two of the sweet'st Companions in the World.
The benediction of these couering Heauens
Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthie
To in-lay Heauen with Starres
   Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st:
The Seruice that you three haue done, is more
Vnlike, then this thou tell'st. I lost my Children,
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A payre of worthier Sonnes
   Bel. Be pleas'd awhile;
This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore,
Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This Gentleman, my Cadwall, Aruiragus.
Your yonger Princely Son, he Sir, was lapt
In a most curious Mantle, wrought by th' hand
Of his Queene Mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce
   Cym. Guiderius had
Vpon his necke a Mole, a sanguine Starre,
It was a marke of wonder
   Bel. This is he,
Who hath vpon him still that naturall stampe:
It was wise Natures end, in the donation
To be his euidence now
   Cym. Oh, what am I
A Mother to the byrth of three? Nere Mother
Reioyc'd deliuerance more: Blest, pray you be,
That after this strange starting from your Orbes,
You may reigne in them now: Oh Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a Kingdome
   Imo. No, my Lord:
I haue got two Worlds by't. Oh my gentle Brothers,
Haue we thus met? Oh neuer say heereafter
But I am truest speaker. You call'd me Brother
When I was but your Sister: I you Brothers,
When we were so indeed
   Cym. Did you ere meete?
  Arui. I my good Lord
   Gui. And at first meeting lou'd,
Continew'd so, vntill we thought he dyed
   Corn. By the Queenes Dramme she swallow'd
   Cym. O rare instinct!
When shall I heare all through? This fierce abridgment,
Hath to it Circumstantiall branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liu'd you?
And when came you to serue our Romane Captiue?
How parted with your Brother? How first met them?
Why fled you from the Court? And whether these?
And your three motiues to the Battaile? with
I know not how much more should be demanded,
And all the other by-dependances
From chance to chance? But nor the Time, nor Place
Will serue our long Interrogatories. See,
Posthumus Anchors vpon Imogen;
And she (like harmlesse Lightning) throwes her eye
On him: her Brothers, Me: her Master hitting
Each obiect with a Ioy: the Counter-change
Is seuerally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoake the Temple with our Sacrifices.
Thou art my Brother, so wee'l hold thee euer
   Imo. You are my Father too, and did releeue me:
To see this gracious season
   Cym. All ore-ioy'd
Saue these in bonds, let them be ioyfull too,
For they shall taste our Comfort
   Imo. My good Master, I will yet do you seruice
   Luc. Happy be you
   Cym. The forlorne Souldier, that so Nobly fought
He would haue well becom'd this place, and grac'd
The thankings of a King
   Post. I am Sir
The Souldier that did company these three
In poore beseeming: 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he,
Speake Iachimo, I had you downe, and might
Haue made you finish
   Iach. I am downe againe:
But now my heauie Conscience sinkes my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you
Which I so often owe: but your Ring first,
And heere the Bracelet of the truest Princesse
That euer swore the Faith
   Post. Kneele not to me:
The powre that I haue on you, is to spare you:
The malice towards you, to forgiue you. Liue
And deale with others better
   Cym. Nobly doom'd:
Wee'l learne our Freenesse of a Sonne-in-Law:
Pardon's the word to all
   Arui. You holpe vs Sir,
As you did meane indeed to be our Brother,
Ioy'd are we, that you are
   Post. Your Seruant Princes. Good my Lord of Rome
Call forth your Sooth-sayer: As I slept, me thought
Great Iupiter vpon his Eagle back'd
Appear'd to me, with other sprightly shewes
Of mine owne Kindred. When I wak'd, I found
This Labell on my bosome; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardnesse, that I can
Make no Collection of it. Let him shew
His skill in the construction
   Luc. Philarmonus
   Sooth. Heere, my good Lord
   Luc. Read, and declare the meaning.
When as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, without
seeking finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender
Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches,
which being dead many yeares, shall after reuiue, bee ioynted to
the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his
miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plentie.
Thou Leonatus art the Lyons Whelpe,
The fit and apt Construction of thy name
Being Leonatus, doth import so much:
The peece of tender Ayre, thy vertuous Daughter,
Which we call Mollis Aer, and Mollis Aer
We terme it Mulier; which Mulier I diuine
Is this most constant Wife, who euen now
Answering the Letter of the Oracle,
Vnknowne to you vnsought, were clipt about
With this most tender Aire
   Cym. This hath some seeming
   Sooth. The lofty Cedar, Royall Cymbeline
Personates thee: And thy lopt Branches, point
Thy two Sonnes forth: who by Belarius stolne
For many yeares thought dead, are now reuiu'd
To the Maiesticke Cedar ioyn'd; whose Issue
Promises Britaine, Peace and Plenty
   Cym. Well,
My Peace we will begin: And Caius Lucius,
Although the Victor, we submit to Caesar,
And to the Romane Empire; promising
To pay our wonted Tribute, from the which
We were disswaded by our wicked Queene,
Whom heauens in Iustice both on her, and hers,
Haue laid most heauy hand
   Sooth. The fingers of the Powres aboue, do tune
The harmony of this Peace: the Vision
Which I made knowne to Lucius ere the stroke
Of yet this scarse-cold-Battaile, at this instant
Is full accomplish'd. For the Romaine Eagle
From South to West, on wing soaring aloft
Lessen'd her selfe, and in the Beames o'th' Sun
So vanish'd; which fore-shew'd our Princely Eagle
Th' Imperiall Caesar, should againe vnite
His Fauour, with the Radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines heere in the West
   Cym. Laud we the Gods,
And let our crooked Smoakes climbe to their Nostrils
From our blest Altars. Publish we this Peace
To all our Subiects. Set we forward: Let
A Roman, and a Brittish Ensigne waue
Friendly together: so through Luds-Towne march,
And in the Temple of great Iupiter
Our Peace wee'l ratifie: Seale it with Feasts.
Set on there: Neuer was a Warre did cease
(Ere bloodie hands were wash'd) with such a Peace.
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF CYMBELINE.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Winters Tale
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Camillo and Archidamus.
  Arch. If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on
the like occasion whereon my seruices are now
on-foot, you shall see (as I haue said) great difference
betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia
   Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of
Sicilia meanes to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which hee
iustly owes him
   Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall shame vs: we
will be iustified in our Loues: for indeed-
  Cam. 'Beseech you-
  Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my knowledge:
we cannot with such magnificence- in so rare-
I know not what to say- Wee will giue you sleepie
Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our insufficience)
may, though they cannot prayse vs, as little accuse
   Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuen
   Arch. 'Beleeue me, I speake as my vnderstanding instructs
me, and as mine honestie puts it to vtterance
   Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himselfe ouer-kind to Bohemia:
They were trayn'd together in their Childhoods;
and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection,
which cannot chuse but braunch now. Since their more
mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made seperation
of their Societie, their Encounters (though not Personall)
hath been Royally attornyed with enter-change of
Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that they haue seem'd to
be together, though absent: shooke hands, as ouer a Vast;
and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed Winds.
The Heauens continue their Loues
   Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Malice
or Matter, to alter it. You haue an vnspeakable comfort
of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a Gentleman of the
greatest Promise, that euer came into my Note
   Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him:
it is a gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Physicks the Subiect,
makes old hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches
ere he was borne, desire yet their life, to see him a Man
   Arch. Would they else be content to die?
  Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they should
desire to liue
   Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would desire to
liue on Crutches till he had one.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.
  Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been
The Shepheards Note, since we haue left our Throne
Without a Burthen: Time as long againe
Would be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks,
And yet we should, for perpetuitie,
Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher
(Yet standing in rich place) I multiply
With one we thanke you, many thousands moe,
That goe before it
   Leo. Stay your Thanks a while,
And pay them when you part
   Pol. Sir, that's to morrow:
I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance,
Or breed vpon our absence, that may blow
No sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say,
This is put forth too truly: besides, I haue stay'd
To tyre your Royaltie
   Leo. We are tougher (Brother)
Then you can put vs to't
   Pol. No longer stay
   Leo. One Seue' night longer
   Pol. Very sooth, to morrow
   Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that
Ile no gaine-saying
   Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so:
There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World
So soone as yours, could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessitie in your request, although
'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires
Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder,
Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my stay,
To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both,
Farewell (our Brother.)
  Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you
   Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill
You had drawne Oathes from him, not to stay: you (Sir)
Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure
All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction,
The by-gone-day proclaym'd, say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward
   Leo. Well said, Hermione
   Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong:
But let him say so then, and let him goe;
But let him sweare so, and he shall not stay,
Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes.
Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduenture
The borrow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia
You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission,
To let him there a Moneth, behind the Gest
Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes,
I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind
What Lady she her Lord. You'le stay?
  Pol. No, Madame
   Her. Nay, but you will?
  Pol. I may not verely
   Her. Verely?
You put me off with limber Vowes: but I,
Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths,
Should yet say, Sir, no going: Verely
You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'is
As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?
Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner,
Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your Fees
When you depart, and saue your Thanks. How say you?
My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread Verely,
One of them you shall be
   Pol. Your Guest then, Madame:
To be your Prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me, lesse easie to commit,
Then you to punish
   Her. Not your Gaoler then,
But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you
Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes:
You were pretty Lordings then?
  Pol. We were (faire Queene)
Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind,
But such a day to morrow, as to day,
And to be Boy eternall
   Her. Was not my Lord
The veryer Wag o'th' two?
  Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun,
And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd,
Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not
The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd
That any did: Had we pursu'd that life,
And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should haue answer'd Heauen
Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd,
Hereditarie ours
   Her. By this we gather
You haue tript since
   Pol. O my most sacred Lady,
Temptations haue since then been borne to's: for
In those vnfledg'd dayes, was my Wife a Girle;
Your precious selfe had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young Play-fellow
   Her. Grace to boot:
Of this make no conclusion, least you say
Your Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on,
Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere,
If you first sinn'd with vs: and that with vs
You did continue fault; and that you slipt not
With any, but with vs
   Leo. Is he woon yet?
  Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.)
  Leo. At my request, he would not:
Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'st
To better purpose
   Her. Neuer?
  Leo. Neuer, but once
   Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before?
I prethee tell me: cram's with prayse, and make's
As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tonguelesse,
Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that.
Our prayses are our Wages. You may ride's
With one soft Kisse a thousand Furlongs, ere
With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale:
My last good deed, was to entreat his stay.
What was my first? it ha's an elder Sister,
Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace.
But once before I spoke to th' purpose? when?
Nay, let me haue't: I long
   Leo. Why, that was when
Three crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death,
Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand:
A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou vtter,
I am yours for euer
   Her. 'Tis Grace indeed.
Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice:
The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband;
Th' other, for some while a Friend
   Leo. Too hot, too hot:
To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods.
I haue Tremor Cordis on me: my heart daunces,
But not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment
May a free face put on: deriue a Libertie
From Heartinesse, from Bountie, fertile Bosome,
And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt:
But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers,
As now they are, and making practis'd Smiles
As in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twere
The Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment
My Bosome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillius,
Art thou my Boy?
  Mam. I, my good Lord
   Leo. I'fecks:
Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose?
They say it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine,
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, Captaine:
And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe,
Are all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling
Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe)
Art thou my Calfe?
  Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.)
  Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue
To be full, like me: yet they say we are
Almost as like as Egges; Women say so,
(That will say any thing.) But were they false
As o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false
As Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes
No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,
To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page)
Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine,
Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be
Affection? thy Intention stabs the Center.
Thou do'st make possible things not so held,
Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?)
With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art,
And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
Thou may'st co-ioyne with something, and thou do'st,
(And that beyond Commission) and I find it,
(And that to the infection of my Braines,
And hardning of my Browes.)
  Pol. What meanes Sicilia?
  Her. He something seemes vnsetled
   Pol. How? my Lord?
  Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother?
  Her. You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction:
Are you mou'd (my Lord?)
  Leo. No, in good earnest.
How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly?
It's tendernesse? and make it selfe a Pastime
To harder bosomes? Looking on the Lynes
Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle
Twentie three yeeres, and saw my selfe vn-breech'd,
In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd,
Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue
(As Ornaments oft do's) too dangerous:
How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell,
This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend,
Will you take Egges for Money?
  Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight
   Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother
Are you so fond of your young Prince, as we
Doe seeme to be of ours?
  Pol. If at home (Sir)
He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter;
Now my sworne Friend, and then mine Enemy;
My Parasite, my Souldier: States-man; all:
He makes a Iulyes day, short as December,
And with his varying childnesse, cures in me
Thoughts, that would thick my blood
   Leo. So stands this Squire
Offic'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord)
And leaue you to your grauer steps. Hermione,
How thou lou'st vs, shew in our Brothers welcome;
Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheape:
Next to thy selfe, and my young Rouer, he's
Apparant to my heart
   Her. If you would seeke vs,
We are yours i'th' Garden: shall's attend you there?
  Leo. To your owne bents dispose you: you'le be found,
Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now,
(Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne)
Goe too, goe too.
How she holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him?
And armes her with the boldnesse of a Wife
To her allowing Husband. Gone already,
Ynch-thick, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one.
Goe play (Boy) play: thy Mother playes, and I
Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue
Will hisse me to my Graue: Contempt and Clamor
Will be my Knell. Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been
(Or I am much deceiu'd) Cuckolds ere now,
And many a man there is (euen at this present,
Now, while I speake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme,
That little thinkes she ha's been sluyc'd in's absence,
And his Pond fish'd by his next Neighbor (by
Sir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't,
Whiles other men haue Gates, and those Gates open'd
(As mine) against their will. Should all despaire
That haue reuolted Wiues, the tenth of Mankind
Would hang themselues. Physick for't, there's none:
It is a bawdy Planet, that will strike
Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke it:
From East, West, North, and South, be it concluded,
No Barricado for a Belly. Know't,
It will let in and out the Enemy,
With bag and baggage: many thousand on's
Haue the Disease, and feele't not. How now Boy?
  Mam. I am like you say
   Leo. Why, that's some comfort.
What? Camillo there?
  Cam. I, my good Lord
   Leo. Goe play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man:
Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer
   Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold,
When you cast out, it still came home
   Leo. Didst note it?
  Cam. He would not stay at your Petitions, made
His Businesse more materiall
   Leo. Didst perceiue it?
They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding:
Sicilia is a so-forth: 'tis farre gone,
When I shall gust it last. How cam't (Camillo)
That he did stay?
  Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie
   Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent,
But so it is, it is not. Was this taken
By any vnderstanding Pate but thine?
For thy Conceit is soaking, will draw in
More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't,
But of the finer Natures? by some Seueralls
Of Head-peece extraordinarie? Lower Messes
Perchance are to this Businesse purblind? say
   Cam. Businesse, my Lord? I thinke most vnderstand
Bohemia stayes here longer
  Cam. Stayes here longer
   Leo. I, but why?
  Cam. To satisfie your Highnesse, and the Entreaties
Of our most gracious Mistresse
   Leo. Satisfie?
Th' entreaties of your Mistresse? Satisfie?
Let that suffice. I haue trusted thee (Camillo)
With all the neerest things to my heart, as well
My Chamber-Councels, wherein (Priest-like) thou
Hast cleans'd my Bosome: I, from thee departed
Thy Penitent reform'd: but we haue been
Deceiu'd in thy Integritie, deceiu'd
In that which seemes so
   Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.)
  Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: or
If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a Coward,
Which hoxes honestie behind, restrayning
From Course requir'd: or else thou must be counted
A Seruant, grafted in my serious Trust,
And therein negligent: or else a Foole,
That seest a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne,
And tak'st it all for ieast
   Cam. My gracious Lord,
I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull,
In euery one of these, no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, feare,
Among the infinite doings of the World,
Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.)
If euer I were wilfull-negligent,
It was my folly: if industriously
I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end: if euer fearefull
To doe a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a feare
Which oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord)
Are such allow'd Infirmities, that honestie
Is neuer free of. But beseech your Grace
Be plainer with me, let me know my Trespas
By it's owne visage; if I then deny it,
'Tis none of mine
   Leo. Ha' not you seene Camillo?
(But that's past doubt: you haue, or your eye-glasse
Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard?
(For to a Vision so apparant, Rumor
Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation
Resides not in that man, that do's not thinke)
My Wife is slipperie? If thou wilt confesse,
Or else be impudently negatiue,
To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then say
My Wife's a Holy-Horse, deserues a Name
As ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight: say't, and iustify't
   Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to heare
My Soueraigne Mistresse clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,
You neuer spoke what did become you lesse
Then this; which to reiterate, were sin
As deepe as that, though true
   Leo. Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noses?
Kissing with in-side Lip? stopping the Cariere
Of Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallible
Of breaking Honestie) horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing Clocks more swift?
Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all Eyes
Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely,
That would vnseene be wicked? Is this nothing?
Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing,
The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing,
My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue these Nothings,
If this be nothing
   Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'd
Of this diseas'd Opinion, and betimes,
For 'tis most dangerous
   Leo. Say it be, 'tis true
   Cam. No, no, my Lord
   Leo. It is: you lye, you lye:
I say thou lyest Camillo, and I hate thee,
Pronounce thee a grosse Lowt, a mindlesse Slaue,
Or else a houering Temporizer, that
Canst with thine eyes at once see good and euill,
Inclining to them both: were my Wiues Liuer
Infected (as her life) she would not liue
The running of one Glasse
   Cam. Who do's infect her?
  Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging
About his neck (Bohemia) who, if I
Had Seruants true about me, that bare eyes
To see alike mine Honor, as their Profits,
(Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that
Which should vndoe more doing: I, and thou
His Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner forme
Haue Bench'd, and rear'd to Worship, who may'st see
Plainely, as Heauen sees Earth, and Earth sees Heauen,
How I am gall'd, might'st be-spice a Cup,
To giue mine Enemy a lasting Winke:
Which Draught to me, were cordiall
   Cam. Sir (my Lord)
I could doe this, and that with no rash Potion,
But with a lingring Dram, that should not worke
Maliciously, like Poyson: But I cannot
Beleeue this Crack to be in my dread Mistresse
(So soueraignely being Honorable.)
I haue lou'd thee,
  Leo. Make that thy question, and goe rot:
Do'st thinke I am so muddy, so vnsetled,
To appoint my selfe in this vexation?
Sully the puritie and whitenesse of my Sheetes
(Which to preserue, is Sleepe; which being spotted,
Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of Waspes)
Giue scandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne,
(Who I doe thinke is mine, and loue as mine)
Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe this?
Could man so blench?
  Cam. I must beleeue you (Sir)
I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't:
Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your Highnesse
Will take againe your Queene, as yours at first,
Euen for your Sonnes sake, and thereby for sealing
The Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes
Knowne, and ally'd to yours
   Leo. Thou do'st aduise me,
Euen so as I mine owne course haue set downe:
Ile giue no blemish to her Honor, none
   Cam. My Lord,
Goe then; and with a countenance as cleare
As Friendship weares at Feasts, keepe with Bohemia,
And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer,
If from me he haue wholesome Beueridge,
Account me not your Seruant
   Leo. This is all:
Do't, and thou hast the one halfe of my heart;
Do't not, thou splitt'st thine owne
   Cam. Ile do't, my Lord
   Leo. I wil seeme friendly, as thou hast aduis'd me.
  Cam. O miserable Lady. But for me,
What case stand I in? I must be the poysoner
Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't,
Is the obedience to a Master; one,
Who in Rebellion with himselfe, will haue
All that are his, so too. To doe this deed,
Promotion followes: If I could find example
Of thousand's that had struck anoynted Kings,
And flourish'd after, Il'd not do't: But since
Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one,
Let Villanie it selfe forswear't. I must
Forsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaine
To me a breake-neck. Happy Starre raigne now,
Here comes Bohemia.
Enter Polixenes.
  Pol. This is strange: Me thinkes
My fauor here begins to warpe. Not speake?
Good day Camillo
   Cam. Hayle most Royall Sir
   Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court?
  Cam. None rare (my Lord.)
  Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance,
As he had lost some Prouince, and a Region
Lou'd, as he loues himselfe: euen now I met him
With customarie complement, when hee
Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling
A Lippe of much contempt, speedes from me, and
So leaues me, to consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his Manners
   Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.)
  Pol. How, dare not? doe not? doe you know, and dare not?
Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts:
For to your selfe, what you doe know, you must,
And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror,
Which shewes me mine chang'd too: for I must be
A partie in this alteration, finding
My selfe thus alter'd with't
   Cam. There is a sicknesse
Which puts some of vs in distemper, but
I cannot name the Disease, and it is caught
Of you, that yet are well
   Pol. How caught of me?
Make me not sighted like the Basilisque.
I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the better
By my regard, but kill'd none so: Camillo,
As you are certainely a Gentleman, thereto
Clerke-like experienc'd, which no lesse adornes
Our Gentry, then our Parents Noble Names,
In whose successe we are gentle: I beseech you,
If you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge,
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not
In ignorant concealement
   Cam. I may not answere
   Pol. A Sicknesse caught of me, and yet I well?
I must be answer'd. Do'st thou heare Camillo,
I coniure thee, by all the parts of man,
Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the least
Is not this Suit of mine, that thou declare
What incidencie thou do'st ghesse of harme
Is creeping toward me; how farre off, how neere,
Which way to be preuented, if to be:
If not, how best to beare it
   Cam. Sir, I will tell you,
Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by him
That I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counsaile,
Which must be eu'n as swiftly followed, as
I meane to vtter it; or both your selfe, and me,
Cry lost, and so good night
   Pol. On, good Camillo
   Cam. I am appointed him to murther you
   Pol. By whom, Camillo?
  Cam. By the King
   Pol. For what?
  Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he sweares,
As he had seen't, or beene an Instrument
To vice you to't, that you haue toucht his Queene
   Pol. Oh then, my best blood turne
To an infected Gelly, and my Name
Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the Best:
Turne then my freshest Reputation to
A sauour, that may strike the dullest Nosthrill
Where I arriue, and my approch be shun'd,
Nay hated too, worse then the great'st Infection
That ere was heard, or read
   Cam. Sweare his thought ouer
By each particular Starre in Heauen, and
By all their Influences; you may as well
Forbid the Sea for to obey the Moone,
As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Counsaile) shake
The Fabrick of his Folly, whose foundation
Is pyl'd vpon his Faith, and will continue
The standing of his Body
   Pol. How should this grow?
  Cam. I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to
Auoid what's growne, then question how 'tis borne.
If therefore you dare trust my honestie,
That lyes enclosed in this Trunke, which you
Shall beare along impawnd, away to Night,
Your Followers I will whisper to the Businesse,
And will by twoes, and threes, at seuerall Posternes,
Cleare them o'th' Citie: For my selfe, Ile put
My fortunes to your seruice (which are here
By this discouerie lost.) Be not vncertaine,
For by the honor of my Parents, I
Haue vttred Truth: which if you seeke to proue,
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer,
Then one condemnd by the Kings owne mouth:
Thereon his Execution sworne
   Pol. I doe beleeue thee:
I saw his heart in's face. Giue me thy hand,
Be Pilot to me, and thy places shall
Still neighbour mine. My Ships are ready, and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two dayes agoe. This Iealousie
Is for a precious Creature: as shee's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his Person's mightie,
Must it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue,
He is dishonor'd by a man, which euer
Profess'd to him: why his Reuenges must
In that be made more bitter. Feare ore-shades me:
Good Expedition be my friend, and comfort
The gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but nothing
Of his ill-ta'ne suspition. Come Camillo,
I will respect thee as a Father, if
Thou bear'st my life off, hence: Let vs auoid
   Cam. It is in mine authoritie to command
The Keyes of all the Posternes: Please your Highnesse
To take the vrgent houre. Come Sir, away.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords.
  Her. Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me,
'Tis past enduring
   Lady. Come (my gracious Lord)
Shall I be your play-fellow?
  Mam. No, Ile none of you
   Lady. Why (my sweet Lord?)
  Mam. You'le kisse me hard, and speake to me, as if
I were a Baby still. I loue you better
   2.Lady. And why so (my Lord?)
  Mam. Not for because
Your Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they say
Become some Women best, so that there be not
Too much haire there, but in a Cemicircle,
Or a halfe-Moone, made with a Pen.)
  2.Lady. Who taught 'this?
  Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now,
What colour are your eye-browes?
  Lady. Blew (my Lord.)
  Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue seene a Ladies Nose
That ha's beene blew, but not her eye-browes
   Lady. Harke ye,
The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we shall
Present our seruices to a fine new Prince
One of these dayes, and then youl'd wanton with vs,
If we would haue you
   2.Lady. She is spread of late
Into a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.)
  Her. What wisdome stirs amongst you? Come Sir, now
I am for you againe: 'Pray you sit by vs,
And tell's a Tale
   Mam. Merry, or sad, shal't be?
  Her. As merry as you will
   Mam. A sad Tale's best for Winter:
I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins
   Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.)
Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best,
To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it
   Mam. There was a man
   Her. Nay, come sit downe: then on
   Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly,
Yond Crickets shall not heare it
   Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine eare
   Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo with
  Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuer
Saw I men scowre so on their way: I eyed them
Euen to their Ships
   Leo. How blest am I
In my iust Censure? in my true Opinion?
Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accurs'd,
In being so blest? There may be in the Cup
A Spider steep'd, and one may drinke; depart,
And yet partake no venome: (for his knowledge
Is not infected) but if one present
Th' abhor'd Ingredient to his eye, make knowne
How he hath drunke, he cracks his gorge, his sides
With violent Hefts: I haue drunke, and seene the Spider.
Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pandar:
There is a Plot against my Life, my Crowne;
All's true that is mistrusted: that false Villaine,
Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:
He ha's discouer'd my Designe, and I
Remaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very Trick
For them to play at will: how came the Posternes
So easily open?
  Lord. By his great authority,
Which often hath no lesse preuail'd, then so,
On your command
   Leo. I know't too well.
Giue me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurse him:
Though he do's beare some signes of me, yet you
Haue too much blood in him
   Her. What is this? Sport?
  Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he shall not come about her,
Away with him, and let her sport her selfe
With that shee's big-with, for 'tis Polixenes
Ha's made thee swell thus
   Her. But Il'd say he had not;
And Ile be sworne you would beleeue my saying,
How e're you leane to th' Nay-ward
   Leo. You (my Lords)
Looke on her, marke her well: be but about
To say she is a goodly Lady, and
The iustice of your hearts will thereto adde
'Tis pitty shee's not honest: Honorable;
Prayse her but for this her without-dore-Forme,
(Which on my faith deserues high speech) and straight
The Shrug, the Hum, or Ha, (these Petty-brands
That Calumnie doth vse; Oh, I am out,
That Mercy do's, for Calumnie will seare
Vertue it selfe) these Shrugs, these Hum's, and Ha's,
When you haue said shee's goodly, come betweene,
Ere you can say shee's honest: But be't knowne
(From him that ha's most cause to grieue it should be)
Shee's an Adultresse
   Her. Should a Villaine say so,
(The most replenish'd Villaine in the World)
He were as much more Villaine: you (my Lord)
Doe but mistake
   Leo. You haue mistooke (my Lady)
Polixenes for Leontes: O thou Thing,
(Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place,
Least Barbarisme (making me the precedent)
Should a like Language vse to all degrees,
And mannerly distinguishment leaue out,
Betwixt the Prince and Begger:) I haue said
Shee's an Adultresse, I haue said with whom:
More; shee's a Traytor, and Camillo is
A Federarie with her, and one that knowes
What she should shame to know her selfe,
But with her most vild Principall: that shee's
A Bed-swaruer, euen as bad as those
That Vulgars giue bold'st Titles; I, and priuy
To this their late escape
   Her. No (by my life)
Priuy to none of this: how will this grieue you,
When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that
You thus haue publish'd me? Gentle my Lord,
You scarce can right me throughly, then, to say
You did mistake
   Leo. No: if I mistake
In those Foundations which I build vpon,
The Centre is not bigge enough to beare
A Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prison:
He who shall speake for her, is a farre-off guiltie,
But that he speakes
   Her. There's some ill Planet raignes:
I must be patient, till the Heauens looke
With an aspect more fauorable. Good my Lords,
I am not prone to weeping (as our Sex
Commonly are) the want of which vaine dew
Perchance shall dry your pitties: but I haue
That honorable Griefe lodg'd here, which burnes
Worse then Teares drowne: 'beseech you all (my Lords)
With thoughts so qualified, as your Charities
Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
The Kings will be perform'd
   Leo. Shall I be heard?
  Her. Who is't that goes with me? 'beseech your Highnes
My Women may be with me, for you see
My plight requires it. Doe not weepe (good Fooles)
There is no cause: When you shall know your Mistris
Ha's deseru'd Prison, then abound in Teares,
As I come out; this Action I now goe on,
Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord)
I neuer wish'd to see you sorry, now
I trust I shall: my Women come, you haue leaue
   Leo. Goe, doe our bidding: hence
   Lord. Beseech your Highnesse call the Queene againe
   Antig. Be certaine what you do (Sir) least your Iustice
Proue violence, in the which three great ones suffer,
Your Selfe, your Queene, your Sonne
   Lord. For her (my Lord)
I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir)
Please you t' accept it, that the Queene is spotlesse
I'th' eyes of Heauen, and to you (I meane
In this, which you accuse her.)
  Antig. If it proue
Shee's otherwise, Ile keepe my Stables where
I lodge my Wife, Ile goe in couples with her:
Then when I feele, and see her, no farther trust her:
For euery ynch of Woman in the World,
I, euery dram of Womans flesh is false,
   Leo. Hold your peaces
   Lord. Good my Lord
   Antig. It is for you we speake, not for our selues:
You are abus'd, and by some putter on,
That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the Villaine,
I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd,
I haue three daughters: the eldest is eleuen;
The second, and the third, nine: and some fiue:
If this proue true, they'l pay for't. By mine Honor
Ile gell'd em all: fourteene they shall not see
To bring false generations: they are co-heyres,
And I had rather glib my selfe, then they
Should not produce faire issue
   Leo. Cease, no more:
You smell this businesse with a sence as cold
As is a dead-mans nose: but I do see't, and feel't,
As you feele doing thus: and see withall
The Instruments that feele
   Antig. If it be so,
We neede no graue to burie honesty,
There's not a graine of it, the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy-earth
   Leo. What? lacke I credit?
  Lord. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord)
Vpon this ground: and more it would content me
To haue her Honor true, then your suspition
Be blam'd for't how you might
   Leo. Why what neede we
Commune with you of this? but rather follow
Our forcefull instigation? Our prerogatiue
Cals not your Counsailes, but our naturall goodnesse
Imparts this: which, if you, or stupified,
Or seeming so, in skill, cannot, or will not
Rellish a truth, like vs: informe your selues,
We neede no more of your aduice: the matter,
The losse, the gaine, the ord'ring on't,
Is all properly ours
   Antig. And I wish (my Liege)
You had onely in your silent iudgement tride it,
Without more ouerture
   Leo. How could that be?
Either thou art most ignorant by age,
Or thou wer't borne a foole: Camillo's flight
Added to their Familiarity
(Which was as grosse, as euer touch'd coniecture,
That lack'd sight onely, nought for approbation
But onely seeing, all other circumstances
Made vp to'th deed) doth push-on this proceeding.
Yet, for a greater confirmation
(For in an Acte of this importance, 'twere
Most pitteous to be wilde) I haue dispatch'd in post,
To sacred Delphos, to Appollo's Temple,
Cleomines and Dion, whom you know
Of stuff'd-sufficiency: Now, from the Oracle
They will bring all, whose spirituall counsaile had
Shall stop, or spurre me. Haue I done well?
  Lord. Well done (my Lord.)
  Leo. Though I am satisfide, and neede no more
Then what I know, yet shall the Oracle
Giue rest to th' mindes of others; such as he
Whose ignorant credulitie, will not
Come vp to th' truth. So haue we thought it good
From our free person, she should be confinde,
Least that the treachery of the two, fled hence,
Be left her to performe. Come follow vs,
We are to speake in publique: for this businesse
Will raise vs all
   Antig. To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth, were knowne.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.
  Paul. The Keeper of the prison, call to him:
Let him haue knowledge who I am. Good Lady,
No Court in Europe is too good for thee,
What dost thou then in prison? Now good Sir,
You know me, do you not?
  Gao. For a worthy Lady,
And one, who much I honour
   Pau. Pray you then,
Conduct me to the Queene
   Gao. I may not (Madam)
To the contrary I haue expresse commandment
   Pau. Here's ado, to locke vp honesty & honour from
Th' accesse of gentle visitors. Is't lawfull pray you
To see her Women? Any of them? Emilia?
  Gao. So please you (Madam)
To put a-part these your attendants, I
Shall bring Emilia forth
   Pau. I pray now call her:
With-draw your selues
   Gao. And Madam,
I must be present at your Conference
   Pau. Well: be't so: prethee.
Heere's such adoe, to make no staine, a staine,
As passes colouring. Deare Gentlewoman,
How fares our gracious Lady?
  Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorne
May hold together: On her frights, and greefes
(Which neuer tender Lady hath borne greater)
She is, something before her time, deliuer'd
   Pau. A boy?
  Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to liue: the Queene receiues
Much comfort in't: Sayes, my poore prisoner,
I am innocent as you,
  Pau. I dare be sworne:
These dangerous, vnsafe Lunes i'th' King, beshrew them:
He must be told on't, and he shall: the office
Becomes a woman best. Ile take't vpon me,
If I proue hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blister.
And neuer to my red-look'd Anger bee
The Trumpet any more: pray you (Emilia)
Commend my best obedience to the Queene,
If she dares trust me with her little babe,
I'le shew't the King, and vndertake to bee
Her Aduocate to th' lowd'st. We do not know
How he may soften at the sight o'th' Childe:
The silence often of pure innocence
Perswades, when speaking failes
   Emil. Most worthy Madam,
Your honor, and your goodnesse is so euident,
That your free vndertaking cannot misse
A thriuing yssue: there is no Lady liuing
So meete for this great errand; please your Ladiship
To visit the next roome, Ile presently
Acquaint the Queene of your most noble offer,
Who, but to day hammered of this designe,
But durst not tempt a minister of honour
Least she should be deny'd
   Paul. Tell her (Emilia)
Ile vse that tongue I haue: If wit flow from't
As boldnesse from my bosome, le't not be doubted
I shall do good,
  Emil. Now be you blest for it.
Ile to the Queene: please you come something neerer
   Gao. Madam, if't please the Queene to send the babe,
I know not what I shall incurre, to passe it,
Hauing no warrant
   Pau. You neede not feare it (sir)
This Childe was prisoner to the wombe, and is
By Law and processe of great Nature, thence
Free'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie to
The anger of the King, nor guilty of
(If any be) the trespasse of the Queene
   Gao. I do beleeue it
   Paul. Do not you feare: vpon mine honor, I
Will stand betwixt you, and danger.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Leontes, Seruants, Paulina, Antigonus, and Lords.
  Leo. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but weaknesse
To beare the matter thus: meere weaknesse, if
The cause were not in being: part o'th cause,
She, th' Adultresse: for the harlot-King
Is quite beyond mine Arme, out of the blanke
And leuell of my braine: plot-proofe: but shee,
I can hooke to me: say that she were gone,
Giuen to the fire, a moity of my rest
Might come to me againe. Whose there?
  Ser. My Lord
   Leo. How do's the boy?
  Ser. He tooke good rest to night: 'tis hop'd
His sicknesse is discharg'd
   Leo. To see his Noblenesse,
Conceyuing the dishonour of his Mother.
He straight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply,
Fasten'd, and fix'd the shame on't in himselfe:
Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe,
And down-right languish'd. Leaue me solely: goe,
See how he fares: Fie, fie, no thought of him,
The very thought of my Reuenges that way
Recoyle vpon me: in himselfe too mightie,
And in his parties, his Alliance; Let him be,
Vntill a time may serue. For present vengeance
Take it on her: Camillo, and Polixenes
Laugh at me: make their pastime at my sorrow:
They should not laugh, if I could reach them, nor
Shall she, within my powre.
Enter Paulina.
  Lord. You must not enter
   Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be second to me:
Feare you his tyrannous passion more (alas)
Then the Queenes life? A gracious innocent soule,
More free, then he is iealous
   Antig. That's enough
   Ser. Madam; he hath not slept to night, commanded
None should come at him
   Pau. Not so hot (good Sir)
I come to bring him sleepe. 'Tis such as you
That creepe like shadowes by him, and do sighe
At each his needlesse heauings: such as you
Nourish the cause of his awaking. I
Do come with words, as medicinall, as true;
(Honest, as either;) to purge him of that humor,
That presses him from sleepe
   Leo. Who noyse there, hoe?
  Pau. No noyse (my Lord) but needfull conference,
About some Gossips for your Highnesse
   Leo. How?
Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus,
I charg'd thee that she should not come about me,
I knew she would
   Ant. I told her so (my Lord)
On your displeasures perill, and on mine,
She should not visit you
   Leo. What? canst not rule her?
  Paul. From all dishonestie he can: in this
(Vnlesse he take the course that you haue done)
Commit me, for committing honor, trust it,
He shall not rule me:
  Ant. La-you now, you heare,
When she will take the raine, I let her run,
But shee'l not stumble
   Paul. Good my Liege, I come:
And I beseech you heare me, who professes
My selfe your loyall Seruant, your Physitian,
Your most obedient Counsailor: yet that dares
Lesse appeare so, in comforting your Euilles,
Then such as most seeme yours. I say, I come
From your good Queene
   Leo. Good Queene?
  Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene,
I say good Queene,
And would by combate, make her good so, were I
A man, the worst about you
   Leo. Force her hence
   Pau. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
First hand me: on mine owne accord, Ile off,
But first, Ile do my errand. The good Queene
(For she is good) hath brought you forth a daughter,
Heere 'tis. Commends it to your blessing
   Leo. Out:
A mankinde Witch? Hence with her, out o' dore:
A most intelligencing bawd
   Paul. Not so:
I am as ignorant in that, as you,
In so entit'ling me: and no lesse honest
Then you are mad: which is enough, Ile warrant
(As this world goes) to passe for honest:
  Leo. Traitors;
Will you not push her out? Giue her the Bastard,
Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd: vnroosted
By thy dame Partlet heere. Take vp the Bastard,
Take't vp, I say: giue't to thy Croane
   Paul. For euer
Vnvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak'st vp the Princesse, by that forced basenesse
Which he ha's put vpon't
   Leo. He dreads his Wife
   Paul. So I would you did: then 'twere past all doubt
Youl'd call your children, yours
   Leo. A nest of Traitors
   Ant. I am none, by this good light
   Pau. Nor I: nor any
But one that's heere: and that's himselfe: for he,
The sacred Honor of himselfe, his Queenes,
His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to Slander,
Whose sting is sharper then the Swords; and will not
(For as the case now stands, it is a Curse
He cannot be compell'd too't) once remoue
The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten,
As euer Oake, or Stone was sound
   Leo. A Callat
Of boundlesse tongue, who late hath beat her Husband,
And now bayts me: This Brat is none of mine,
It is the Issue of Polixenes.
Hence with it, and together with the Dam,
Commit them to the fire
   Paul. It is yours:
And might we lay th' old Prouerb to your charge,
So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold (my Lords)
Although the Print be little, the whole Matter
And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nose, Lippe,
The trick of's Frowne, his Fore-head, nay, the Valley,
The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles:
The very Mold, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.)
And thou good Goddesse Nature, which hast made it
So like to him that got it, if thou hast
The ordering of the Mind too, 'mongst all Colours
No Yellow in't, least she suspect, as he do's,
Her Children, not her Husbands
   Leo. A grosse Hagge:
And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wilt not stay her Tongue
   Antig. Hang all the Husbands
That cannot doe that Feat, you'le leaue your selfe
Hardly one Subiect
   Leo. Once more take her hence
   Paul. A most vnworthy, and vnnaturall Lord
Can doe no more
   Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt
   Paul. I care not:
It is an Heretique that makes the fire,
Not she which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant:
But this most cruell vsage of your Queene
(Not able to produce more accusation
Then your owne weake-hindg'd Fancy) something sauors
Of Tyrannie, and will ignoble make you,
Yea, scandalous to the World
   Leo. On your Allegeance,
Out of the Chamber with her. Were I a Tyrant,
Where were her life? she durst not call me so,
If she did know me one. Away with her
   Paul. I pray you doe not push me, Ile be gone.
Looke to your Babe (my Lord) 'tis yours: Ioue send her
A better guiding Spirit. What needs these hands?
You that are thus so tender o're his Follyes,
Will neuer doe him good, not one of you.
So, so: Farewell, we are gone.
  Leo. Thou (Traytor) hast set on thy Wife to this.
My Child? away with't? euen thou, that hast
A heart so tender o're it, take it hence,
And see it instantly consum'd with fire.
Euen thou, and none but thou. Take it vp straight:
Within this houre bring me word 'tis done,
(And by good testimonie) or Ile seize thy life,
With what thou else call'st thine: if thou refuse,
And wilt encounter with my Wrath, say so;
The Bastard-braynes with these my proper hands
Shall I dash out. Goe, take it to the fire,
For thou sett'st on thy Wife
   Antig. I did not, Sir:
These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they please,
Can cleare me in't
   Lords. We can: my Royall Liege,
He is not guiltie of her comming hither
   Leo. You're lyers all
   Lord. Beseech your Highnesse, giue vs better credit:
We haue alwayes truly seru'd you, and beseech'
So to esteeme of vs: and on our knees we begge,
(As recompence of our deare seruices
Past, and to come) that you doe change this purpose,
Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
Lead on to some foule Issue. We all kneele
   Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows:
Shall I liue on, to see this Bastard kneele,
And call me Father? better burne it now,
Then curse it then. But be it: let it liue.
It shall not neyther. You Sir, come you hither:
You that haue beene so tenderly officious
With Lady Margerie, your Mid-wife there,
To saue this Bastards life; for 'tis a Bastard,
So sure as this Beard's gray. What will you aduenture,
To saue this Brats life?
  Antig. Any thing (my Lord)
That my abilitie may vndergoe,
And Noblenesse impose: at least thus much;
Ile pawne the little blood which I haue left,
To saue the Innocent: any thing possible
   Leo. It shall be possible: Sweare by this Sword
Thou wilt performe my bidding
   Antig. I will (my Lord.)
  Leo. Marke, and performe it: seest thou? for the faile
Of any point in't, shall not onely be
Death to thy selfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife,
(Whom for this time we pardon) We enioyne thee,
As thou art Liege-man to vs, that thou carry
This female Bastard hence, and that thou beare it
To some remote and desart place, quite out
Of our Dominions; and that there thou leaue it
(Without more mercy) to it owne protection,
And fauour of the Climate: as by strange fortune
It came to vs, I doe in Iustice charge thee,
On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodyes torture,
That thou commend it strangely to some place,
Where Chance may nurse, or end it: take it vp
   Antig. I sweare to doe this: though a present death
Had beene more mercifull. Come on (poore Babe)
Some powerfull Spirit instruct the Kytes and Rauens
To be thy Nurses. Wolues and Beares, they say,
(Casting their sauagenesse aside) haue done
Like offices of Pitty. Sir, be prosperous
In more then this deed do's require; and Blessing
Against this Crueltie, fight on thy side
(Poore Thing, condemn'd to losse.)
  Leo. No: Ile not reare
Anothers Issue.
Enter a Seruant.
  Seru. Please' your Highnesse, Posts
From those you sent to th' Oracle, are come
An houre since: Cleomines and Dion,
Being well arriu'd from Delphos, are both landed,
Hasting to th' Court
   Lord. So please you (Sir) their speed
Hath beene beyond accompt
   Leo. Twentie three dayes
They haue beene absent: 'tis good speed: fore-tells
The great Apollo suddenly will haue
The truth of this appeare: Prepare you Lords,
Summon a Session, that we may arraigne
Our most disloyall Lady: for as she hath
Been publikely accus'd, so shall she haue
A iust and open Triall. While she liues,
My heart will be a burthen to me. Leaue me,
And thinke vpon my bidding.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Cleomines and Dion.
  Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet,
Fertile the Isle, the Temple much surpassing
The common prayse it beares
   Dion. I shall report,
For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits,
(Me thinkes I so should terme them) and the reuerence
Of the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,
How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthly
It was i'th' Offring?
  Cleo. But of all, the burst
And the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle,
Kin to Ioues Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence,
That I was nothing
   Dio. If th' euent o'th' Iourney
Proue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so)
As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleasant, speedie,
The time is worth the vse on't
   Cleo. Great Apollo
Turne all to th' best: these Proclamations,
So forcing faults vpon Hermione,
I little like
   Dio. The violent carriage of it
Will cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle
(Thus by Apollo's great Diuine seal'd vp)
Shall the Contents discouer: something rare
Euen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses,
And gracious be the issue.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Triall) Ladies:
Cleomines, Dion.
  Leo. This Sessions (to our great griefe we pronounce)
Euen pushes 'gainst our heart. The partie try'd,
The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and one
Of vs too much belou'd. Let vs be clear'd
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
Proceed in Iustice, which shall haue due course,
Euen to the Guilt, or the Purgation:
Produce the Prisoner
   Officer. It is his Highnesse pleasure, that the Queene
Appeare in person, here in Court. Silence
   Leo. Reade the Indictment
   Officer. Hermione, Queene to the worthy Leontes, King
of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of High Treason,
in committing Adultery with Polixenes King of Bohemia,
and conspiring with Camillo to take away the Life of our
Lord the King, thy Royall Husband: the pretence whereof
being by circumstances partly layd open, thou (Hermione) contrary
to the Faith and Allegeance of a true Subiect, didst counsaile
and ayde them, for their better safetie, to flye away by
   Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that
Which contradicts my Accusation, and
The testimonie on my part, no other
But what comes from my selfe, it shall scarce boot me
To say, Not guiltie: mine Integritie
Being counted Falsehood, shall (as I expresse it)
Be so receiu'd. But thus, if Powres Diuine
Behold our humane Actions (as they doe)
I doubt not then, but Innocence shall make
False Accusation blush, and Tyrannie
Tremble at Patience. You (my Lord) best know
(Whom least will seeme to doe so) my past life
Hath beene as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now vnhappy; which is more
Then Historie can patterne, though deuis'd,
And play'd, to take Spectators. For behold me,
A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which owe
A Moitie of the Throne: a great Kings Daughter,
The Mother to a hopefull Prince, here standing
To prate and talke for Life, and Honor, fore
Who please to come, and heare. For Life, I prize it
As I weigh Griefe (which I would spare:) For Honor,
'Tis a deriuatiue from me to mine,
And onely that I stand for. I appeale
To your owne Conscience (Sir) before Polixenes
Came to your Court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so: Since he came,
With what encounter so vncurrant, I
Haue strayn'd t' appeare thus; if one iot beyond
The bound of Honor, or in act, or will
That way enclining, hardned be the hearts
Of all that heare me, and my neer'st of Kin
Cry fie vpon my Graue
   Leo. I ne're heard yet,
That any of these bolder Vices wanted
Lesse Impudence to gaine-say what they did,
Then to performe it first
   Her. That's true enough,
Though 'tis a saying (Sir) not due to me
   Leo. You will not owne it
   Her. More then Mistresse of,
Which comes to me in name of Fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(With whom I am accus'd) I doe confesse
I lou'd him, as in Honor he requir'd:
With such a kind of Loue, as might become
A Lady like me; with a Loue, euen such,
So, and no other, as your selfe commanded:
Which, not to haue done, I thinke had been in me
Both Disobedience, and Ingratitude
To you, and toward your Friend, whose Loue had spoke,
Euen since it could speake, from an Infant, freely,
That it was yours. Now for Conspiracie,
I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd
For me to try how: All I know of it,
Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
And why he left your Court, the Gods themselues
(Wotting no more then I) are ignorant
   Leo. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you haue vnderta'ne to doe in's absence
   Her. Sir,
You speake a Language that I vnderstand not:
My Life stands in the leuell of your Dreames,
Which Ile lay downe
   Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.
You had a Bastard by Polixenes,
And I but dream'd it: As you were past all shame,
(Those of your Fact are so) so past all truth;
Which to deny, concernes more then auailes: for as
Thy Brat hath been cast out, like to it selfe,
No Father owning it (which is indeed
More criminall in thee, then it) so thou
Shalt feele our Iustice; in whose easiest passage,
Looke for no lesse then death
   Her. Sir, spare your Threats:
The Bugge which you would fright me with, I seeke:
To me can Life be no commoditie;
The crowne and comfort of my Life (your Fauor)
I doe giue lost, for I doe feele it gone,
But know not how it went. My second Ioy,
And first Fruits of my body, from his presence
I am bar'd, like one infectious. My third comfort
(Star'd most vnluckily) is from my breast
(The innocent milke in it most innocent mouth)
Hal'd out to murther. My selfe on euery Post
Proclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatred
The Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longs
To Women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried
Here, to this place, i'th' open ayre, before
I haue got strength of limit. Now (my Liege)
Tell me what blessings I haue here aliue,
That I should feare to die? Therefore proceed:
But yet heare this: mistake me not: no Life,
(I prize it not a straw) but for mine Honor,
Which I would free: if I shall be condemn'd
Vpon surmizes (all proofes sleeping else,
But what your Iealousies awake) I tell you
'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all,
I doe referre me to the Oracle:
Apollo be my Iudge
   Lord. This your request
Is altogether iust: therefore bring forth
(And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle
   Her. The Emperor of Russia was my Father.
Oh that he were aliue, and here beholding
His Daughters Tryall: that he did but see
The flatnesse of my miserie; yet with eyes
Of Pitty, not Reuenge
   Officer. You here shal sweare vpon this Sword of Iustice,
That you (Cleomines and Dion) haue
Been both at Delphos, and from thence haue brought
This seal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'd
Of great Apollo's Priest; and that since then,
You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale,
Nor read the Secrets in't
   Cleo. Dio. All this we sweare
   Leo. Breake vp the Seales, and read
   Officer. Hermione is chast, Polixenes blamelesse, Camillo
a true Subiect, Leontes a iealous Tyrant, his innocent Babe
truly begotten, and the King shall liue without an Heire, if that
which is lost, be not found
   Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo
   Her. Praysed
   Leo. Hast thou read truth?
  Offic. I (my Lord) euen so as it is here set downe
   Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle:
The Sessions shall proceed: this is meere falsehood
   Ser. My Lord the King: the King?
  Leo. What is the businesse?
  Ser. O Sir, I shall be hated to report it.
The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit, and feare
Of the Queenes speed, is gone
   Leo. How? gone?
  Ser. Is dead
   Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themselues
Doe strike at my Iniustice. How now there?
  Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downe
And see what Death is doing
   Leo. Take her hence:
Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will recouer.
I haue too much beleeu'd mine owne suspition:
'Beseech you tenderly apply to her
Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon
My great prophanenesse 'gainst thine Oracle.
Ile reconcile me to Polixenes,
New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo
(Whom I proclaime a man of Truth, of Mercy:)
For being transported by my Iealousies
To bloody thoughts, and to reuenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister, to poyson
My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command: though I with Death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done: he (most humane,
And fill'd with Honor) to my Kingly Guest
Vnclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here
(Which you knew great) and to the hazard
Of all Incertainties, himselfe commended,
No richer then his Honor: How he glisters
Through my Rust? and how his Pietie
Do's my deeds make the blacker?
  Paul. Woe the while:
O cut my Lace, least my heart (cracking it)
   Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?
  Paul. What studied torments (Tyrant) hast for me?
What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling?
In Leads, or Oyles? What old, or newer Torture
Must I receiue? whose euery word deserues
To taste of thy most worst. Thy Tyranny
(Together working with thy Iealousies,
Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idle
For Girles of Nine) O thinke what they haue done,
And then run mad indeed: starke-mad: for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betrayed'st Polixenes, 'twas nothing,
(That did but shew thee, of a Foole, inconstant,
And damnable ingratefull:) Nor was't much.
Thou would'st haue poyson'd good Camillo's Honor,
To haue him kill a King: poore Trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter,
To be or none, or little; though a Deuill
Would haue shed water out of fire, ere don't;
Nor is't directly layd to thee, the death
Of the young Prince, whose honorable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart
That could conceiue a grosse and foolish Sire
Blemish'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,
Layd to thy answere: but the last: O Lords,
When I haue said, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene,
The sweet'st, deer'st creature's dead: & vengeance for't
Not drop'd downe yet
   Lord. The higher powres forbid
   Pau. I say she's dead: Ile swear't. If word, nor oath
Preuaile not, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or lustre in her lip, her eye
Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile serue you
As I would do the Gods. But, O thou Tyrant,
Do not repent these things, for they are heauier
Then all thy woes can stirre: therefore betake thee
To nothing but dispaire. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand yeares together, naked, fasting,
Vpon a barren Mountaine, and still Winter
In storme perpetuall, could not moue the Gods
To looke that way thou wer't
   Leo. Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deseru'd
All tongues to talke their bittrest
   Lord. Say no more;
How ere the businesse goes, you haue made fault
I'th boldnesse of your speech
   Pau. I am sorry for't;
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I haue shew'd too much
The rashnesse of a woman: he is toucht
To th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's past helpe
Should be past greefe: Do not receiue affliction
At my petition; I beseech you, rather
Let me be punish'd, that haue minded you
Of what you should forget. Now (good my Liege)
Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a foolish woman:
The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe)
Ile speake of her no more, nor of your Children:
Ile not remember you of my owne Lord,
(Who is lost too:) take your patience to you,
And Ile say nothing
   Leo. Thou didst speake but well,
When most the truth: which I receyue much better,
Then to be pittied of thee. Prethee bring me
To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne,
One graue shall be for both: Vpon them shall
The causes of their death appeare (vnto
Our shame perpetuall) once a day, Ile visit
The Chappell where they lye, and teares shed there
Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature
Will beare vp with this exercise, so long
I dayly vow to vse it. Come, and leade me
To these sorrowes.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepeheard, and Clowne.
  Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht vpon
The Desarts of Bohemia
   Mar. I (my Lord) and feare
We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,
And threaten present blusters. In my conscience
The heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry,
And frowne vpon's
   Ant. Their sacred wil's be done: go get a-boord,
Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long before
I call vpon thee
   Mar. Make your best haste, and go not
Too-farre i'th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,
Besides this place is famous for the Creatures
Of prey, that keepe vpon't
   Antig. Go thou away,
Ile follow instantly
   Mar. I am glad at heart
To be so ridde o'th businesse.
  Ant. Come, poore babe;
I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o'th' dead
May walke againe: if such thing be, thy Mother
Appear'd to me last night: for ne're was dreame
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another,
I neuer saw a vessell of like sorrow
So fill'd, and so becomming: in pure white Robes
Like very sanctity she did approach
My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,
And (gasping to begin some speech) her eyes
Became two spouts; the furie spent, anon
Did this breake from her. Good Antigonus,
Since Fate (against thy better disposition)
Hath made thy person for the Thrower-out
Of my poore babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babe
Is counted lost for euer, Perdita
I prethee call't: For this vngentle businesse
Put on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're shalt see
Thy Wife Paulina more: and so, with shriekes
She melted into Ayre. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect my selfe, and thought
This was so, and no slumber: Dreames, are toyes,
Yet for this once, yea superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this. I do beleeue
Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that
Apollo would (this being indeede the issue
Of King Polixenes) it should heere be laide
(Either for life, or death) vpon the earth
Of it's right Father. Blossome, speed thee well,
There lye, and there thy charracter: there these,
Which may if Fortune please, both breed thee (pretty)
And still rest thine. The storme beginnes, poore wretch,
That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'd
To losse, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,
But my heart bleedes: and most accurst am I
To be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell,
The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haue
A lullabie too rough: I neuer saw
The heauens so dim, by day. A sauage clamor?
Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace,
I am gone for euer.
Exit pursued by a Beare.
  Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten and
three and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest:
for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wenches
with childe, wronging the Auncientry, stealing,
fighting, hearke you now: would any but these boyldebraines
of nineteene, and two and twenty hunt this weather?
They haue scarr'd away two of my best Sheepe,
which I feare the Wolfe will sooner finde then the Maister;
if any where I haue them, 'tis by the sea-side, brouzing
of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue
we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A
boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prettie
one) sure some Scape; Though I am not bookish, yet I
can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has
beene some staire-worke, some Trunke-worke, some
behinde-doore
worke: they were warmer that got this,
then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet
Ile tarry till my sonne come: he hallow'd but euen now.
Whoa-ho-hoa.
Enter Clowne.
  Clo. Hilloa, loa
   Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to
talke on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither:
what ayl'st thou, man?
  Clo. I haue seene two such sights, by Sea & by Land:
but I am not to say it is a Sea, for it is now the skie, betwixt
the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins
   Shep. Why boy, how is it?
  Clo. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages,
how it takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point:
Oh, the most pitteous cry of the poore soules, sometimes
to see 'em, and not to see 'em: Now the Shippe boaring
the Moone with her maine Mast, and anon swallowed
with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a Corke into a hogshead.
And then for the Land-seruice, to see how the
Beare tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cride to mee
for helpe, and said his name was Antigonus, a Nobleman:
But to make an end of the Ship, to see how the Sea flapdragon'd
it: but first, how the poore soules roared, and
the sea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roared,
and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowder
then the sea, or weather
   Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy?
  Clo. Now, now: I haue not wink'd since I saw these
sights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor the
Beare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now
   Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the olde
   Clo. I would you had beene by the ship side, to haue
help'd her; there your charity would haue lack'd footing
   Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee
heere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with things
dying, I with things new borne. Here's a sight for thee:
Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: looke
thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so, let's see, it
was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is some
Changeling: open't: what's within, boy?
  Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your
youth are forgiuen you, you're well to liue. Golde, all
   Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp
with't, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. We
are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but
secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the next
   Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go
see if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how
much he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when they
are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it
   Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by
that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight
   Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him
i'th' ground
   Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deeds
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Time, the Chorus.
  Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terror
Of good, and bad: that makes, and vnfolds error,
Now take vpon me (in the name of Time)
To vse my wings: Impute it not a crime
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
Ore sixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntride
Of that wide gap, since it is in my powre
To orethrow Law, and in one selfe-borne howre
To plant, and orewhelme Custome. Let me passe
The same I am, ere ancient'st Order was,
Or what is now receiu'd. I witnesse to
The times that brought them in, so shall I do
To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my Tale
Now seemes to it: your patience this allowing,
I turne my glasse, and giue my Scene such growing
As you had slept betweene: Leontes leauing
Th' effects of his fond iealousies, so greeuing
That he shuts vp himselfe. Imagine me
(Gentle Spectators) that I now may be
In faire Bohemia, and remember well,
I mentioned a sonne o'th' Kings, which Florizell
I now name to you: and with speed so pace
To speake of Perdita, now growne in grace
Equall with wond'ring. What of her insues
I list not prophesie: but let Times newes
Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daughter
And what to her adheres, which followes after,
Is th' argument of Time: of this allow,
If euer you haue spent time worse, ere now:
If neuer, yet that Time himselfe doth say,
He wishes earnestly, you neuer may.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.
  Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importunate:
'tis a sicknesse denying thee any thing: a death to
   Cam. It is fifteene yeeres since I saw my Countrey:
though I haue (for the most part) bin ayred abroad, I desire
to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King
(my Master) hath sent for me, to whose feeling sorrowes
I might be some allay, or I oreweene to thinke so) which
is another spurre to my departure
   Pol. As thou lou'st me (Camillo) wipe not out the rest
of thy seruices, by leauing me now: the neede I haue of
thee, thine owne goodnesse hath made: better not to
haue had thee, then thus to want thee, thou hauing made
me Businesses, (which none (without thee) can sufficiently
manage) must either stay to execute them thy selfe,
or take away with thee the very seruices thou hast done:
which if I haue not enough considered (as too much I
cannot) to bee more thankefull to thee, shall bee my studie,
and my profite therein, the heaping friendshippes.
Of that fatall Countrey Sicillia, prethee speake no more,
whose very naming, punnishes me with the remembrance
of that penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King
my brother, whose losse of his most precious Queene &
Children, are euen now to be a-fresh lamented. Say to
me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizell my son? Kings
are no lesse vnhappy, their issue, not being gracious, then
they are in loosing them, when they haue approued their
   Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what
his happier affayres may be, are to me vnknowne: but I
haue (missingly) noted, he is of late much retyred from
Court, and is lesse frequent to his Princely exercises then
formerly he hath appeared
   Pol. I haue considered so much (Camillo) and with
some care, so farre, that I haue eyes vnder my seruice,
which looke vpon his remouednesse: from whom I haue
this Intelligence, that he is seldome from the house of a
most homely shepheard: a man (they say) that from very
nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors,
is growne into an vnspeakable estate
   Cam. I haue heard (sir) of such a man, who hath a
daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended
more, then can be thought to begin from such a cottage
  Pol. That's likewise part of my Intelligence: but (I
feare) the Angle that pluckes our sonne thither. Thou
shalt accompany vs to the place, where we will (not appearing
what we are) haue some question with the shepheard;
from whose simplicity, I thinke it not vneasie to
get the cause of my sonnes resort thether. 'Prethe be my
present partner in this busines, and lay aside the thoughts
   Cam. I willingly obey your command
   Pol. My best Camillo, we must disguise our selues.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Autolicus singing
When Daffadils begin to peere,
With heigh the Doxy ouer the dale,
Why then comes in the sweet o'the yeere,
For the red blood raigns in y winters pale.
The white sheete bleaching on the hedge,
With hey the sweet birds, O how they sing:
Doth set my pugging tooth an edge,
For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King.
The Larke, that tirra Lyra chaunts,
With heigh, the Thrush and the Iay:
Are Summer songs for me and my Aunts
While we lye tumbling in the hay.
I haue seru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three
pile, but now I am out of seruice.
But shall I go mourne for that (my deere)
the pale Moone shines by night:
And when I wander here, and there
I then do most go right.
If Tinkers may haue leaue to liue,
and beare the Sow-skin Bowget,
Then my account I well may giue,
and in the Stockes auouch-it.
My Trafficke is sheetes: when the Kite builds, looke to
lesser Linnen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who being
(as I am) lytter'd vnder Mercurie, was likewise a
snapper-vp of vnconsidered trifles: With Dye and drab,
I purchas'd this Caparison, and my Reuennew is the silly
Cheate. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too powerfull on
the Highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to mee:
For the life to come, I sleepe out the thought of it. A
prize, a prize.
Enter Clowne.
  Clo. Let me see, euery Leauen-weather toddes, euery
tod yeeldes pound and odde shilling: fifteene hundred
shorne, what comes the wooll too?
  Aut. If the sprindge hold, the Cocke's mine
   Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let mee see,
what am I to buy for our Sheepe-shearing-Feast? Three
pound of Sugar, fiue pound of Currence, Rice: What
will this sister of mine do with Rice? But my father hath
made her Mistris of the Feast, and she layes it on. Shee
hath made-me four and twenty Nose-gayes for the shearers
(three-man song-men, all, and very good ones) but
they are most of them Meanes and Bases; but one Puritan
amongst them, and he sings Psalmes to horne-pipes.
I must haue Saffron to colour the Warden Pies, Mace:
Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, seuen;
a Race or two of Ginger, but that I may begge: Foure
pound of Prewyns, and as many of Reysons o'th Sun
   Aut. Oh, that euer I was borne
   Clo. I'th' name of me
   Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off these
ragges: and then, death, death
   Clo. Alacke poore soule, thou hast need of more rags
to lay on thee, rather then haue these off
   Aut. Oh sir, the loathsomnesse of them offend mee,
more then the stripes I haue receiued, which are mightie
ones and millions
   Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come
to a great matter
   Aut. I am rob'd sir, and beaten: my money, and apparrell
tane from me, and these detestable things put vpon
   Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?
  Aut. A footman (sweet sir) a footman
   Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments
he has left with thee: If this bee a horsemans Coate, it
hath seene very hot seruice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe
thee. Come, lend me thy hand
   Aut. Oh good sir, tenderly, oh
   Clo. Alas poore soule
   Aut. Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I feare (sir) my
shoulder-blade is out
   Clo. How now? Canst stand?
  Aut. Softly, deere sir: good sir, softly: you ha done
me a charitable office
   Clo. Doest lacke any mony? I haue a little mony for
   Aut. No, good sweet sir: no, I beseech you sir: I haue
a Kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, vnto
whome I was going: I shall there haue money, or anie
thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that killes
   Clow. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd
  Aut. A fellow (sir) that I haue knowne to goe about
with Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a seruant of the
Prince: I cannot tell good sir, for which of his Vertues
it was, but hee was certainely Whipt out of the
   Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt
out of the Court: they cherish it to make it stay there;
and yet it will no more but abide
   Aut. Vices I would say (Sir.) I know this man well,
he hath bene since an Ape-bearer, then a Processe-seruer
(a Bayliffe) then hee compast a Motion of the Prodigall
sonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where
my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flowne ouer many
knauish professions) he setled onely in Rogue: some
call him Autolicus
   Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts
Wakes, Faires, and Beare-baitings
   Aut. Very true sir: he sir hee: that's the Rogue that
put me into this apparrell
   Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If
you had but look'd bigge, and spit at him, hee'ld haue
   Aut. I must confesse to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am
false of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him
   Clo. How do you now?
  Aut. Sweet sir, much better then I was: I can stand,
and walke: I will euen take my leaue of you, & pace softly
towards my Kinsmans
   Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
  Aut. No, good fac'd sir, no sweet sir
   Clo. Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our
sheepe-shearing.
  Aut. Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough
to purchase your Spice: Ile be with you at your
sheepe-shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out
another, and the sheerers proue sheepe, let me be vnrold,
and my name put in the booke of Vertue.
Song. Iog-on, Iog-on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the Stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tyres in a Mile-a.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo,
Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.
  Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you
Do's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora
Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing,
Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,
And you the Queene on't
   Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,
To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me:
(Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe
The gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'd
With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide)
Most Goddesse-like prank'd vp: But that our Feasts
In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders
Digest with a Custome, I should blush
To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke,
To shew my selfe a glasse
   Flo. I blesse the time
When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse
Thy Fathers ground
   Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause:
To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse
Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble
To thinke your Father, by some accident
Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates,
How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble,
Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how
Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold
The sternnesse of his presence?
  Flo. Apprehend
Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues
(Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken
The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter,
Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune
A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God
Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,
As I seeme now. Their transformations,
Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer,
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts
Burne hotter then my Faith
   Perd. O but Sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King:
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose,
Or I my life
   Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita,
With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not
The Mirth o'th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire)
Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be
Mine owne, nor any thing to any, if
I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
Though destiny say no. Be merry (Gentle)
Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing
That you behold the while. Your guests are comming:
Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day
Of celebration of that nuptiall, which
We two haue sworne shall come
   Perd. O Lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious
   Flo. See, your Guests approach,
Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth
   Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon
This day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke,
Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all,
Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere
At vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle:
On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire
With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it
She would to each one sip. You are retyred,
As if you were a feasted one: and not
The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid
These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is
A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne.
Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfe
That which you are, Mistris o'th' Feast. Come on,
And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing,
As your good flocke shall prosper
   Perd. Sir, welcome:
It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee
The Hostesseship o'th' day: you're welcome sir.
Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs,
For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe
Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long:
Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,
And welcome to our Shearing
   Pol. Shepherdesse,
(A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages
With flowres of Winter
   Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,
Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o'th season
Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors,
(Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind
Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not
To get slips of them
   Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
Do you neglect them
   Perd. For I haue heard it said,
There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares
With great creating-Nature
   Pol. Say there be:
Yet Nature is made better by no meane,
But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art,
(Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art
That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry
A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,
And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde
By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art
Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but
The Art it selfe, is Nature
   Perd. So it is
   Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors,
And do not call them bastards
   Perd. Ile not put
The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them:
No more then were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore
Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you:
Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,
The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun,
And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres
Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen
To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome
   Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke,
And onely liue by gazing
   Perd. Out alas:
You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary
Would blow you through and through. Now (my fairst Friend,
I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that might
Become your time of day: and yours, and yours,
That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet
Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall
From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow dares, and take
The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim,
But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses,
That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie
Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and
The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds,
(The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke,
To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,
To strew him o're, and ore
   Flo. What? like a Coarse?
  Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on:
Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried,
But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours,
Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do
In Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine
Do's change my disposition:
  Flo. What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet)
I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing,
I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes,
Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do
Nothing but that: moue still, still so:
And owne no other Function. Each your doing,
(So singular, in each particular)
Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds,
That all your Actes, are Queenes
   Perd. O Doricles,
Your praises are too large: but that your youth
And the true blood which peepes fairely through't,
Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd Shepherd
With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles)
You woo'd me the false way
   Flo. I thinke you haue
As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose
To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray,
Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire
That neuer meane to part
   Perd. Ile sweare for 'em
   Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer
Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes
But smackes of something greater then her selfe,
Too Noble for this place
   Cam. He tels her something
That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is
The Queene of Curds and Creame
   Clo. Come on: strike vp
   Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick
to mend her kissing with
   Mop. Now in good time
   Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners,
Come, strike vp.
Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.
  Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,
Which dances with your daughter?
  Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe
To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it
Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:
He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter,
I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone
Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade
As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine,
I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to choose
Who loues another best
   Pol. She dances featly
   Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report it
That should be silent: If yong Doricles
Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreames of.
Enter Seruant.
  Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the
doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and
Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes
seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vtters
them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to
   Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in:
I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter
merrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, and
sung lamentably
   Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes:
No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has
the prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie
(which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dildo's
and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where
some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane
mischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee
makes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme good
man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee no
harme good man
   Pol. This is a braue fellow
   Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited
fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares?
  Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow;
Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can
learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse:
Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he sings
em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would
thinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to
the sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't
   Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing
   Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words
   Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in
them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.)
  Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke.
Enter Autolicus singing.
Lawne as white as driuen Snow,
Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,
Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses,
Maskes for faces, and for noses:
Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,
Perfume for a Ladies Chamber:
Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers
For my Lads, to giue their deers:
Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele.
What Maids lacke from head to heele:
Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,
Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy
   Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst
take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will
also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues
   Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they
come not too late now
   Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or there
   Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be
he has paid you more, which will shame you to giue him
   Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they
weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces?
Is there not milking-time? When you are going to bed?
Or kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must
be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are
whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more
   Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdrylace,
and a paire of sweet Gloues
   Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the
way, and lost all my money
   Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therfore
it behooues men to be wary
   Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here
  Aut. I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcels
   Clo. What hast heere? Ballads?
  Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a
life, for then we are sure they are true
   Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers
wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at
a burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, and
Toads carbonado'd
   Mop. Is it true, thinke you?
  Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old
   Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer
   Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist[ris]. Tale-Porter,
and fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present.
Why should I carry lyes abroad?
  Mop. 'Pray you now buy it
   Clo. Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Ballads:
Wee'l buy the other things anon
   Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared
vpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie
thousand fadom aboue water, & sung this ballad against
the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Woman,
and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not exchange
flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very
pittifull, and as true
   Dor. Is it true too, thinke you
   Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more
then my packe will hold
   Clo. Lay it by too; another
   Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one
   Mop. Let's haue some merry ones
   Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the
tune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide
westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you
   Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou
shalt heare, 'tis in three parts
   Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe
   Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation:
Haue at it with you:
Get you hence, for I must goe
  Aut. Where it fits not you to know
   Dor. Whether?
  Mop. O whether?
  Dor. Whether?
  Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell
   Dor: Me too: Let me go thether:
  Mop: Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill,
  Dor: If to either thou dost ill,
  Aut: Neither
   Dor: What neither?
  Aut: Neither:
  Dor: Thou hast sworne my Loue to be,
  Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee.
Then whether goest? Say whether?
  Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My
Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble
them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile
buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folow
   Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.
Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape?
My dainty Ducke, my deere-a?
Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head
Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a.
Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler,
That doth vtter all mens ware-a.
  Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds,
three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made
themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers,
and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gally-maufrey
of Gambols, because they are not in't: but
they themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough
for some, that know little but bowling) it will please
   Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too
much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wearie
   Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see
these foure-threes of Heardsmen
   Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,)
hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the
three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire
   Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men are
pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now
   Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.
Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.
  Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter:
Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them,
He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard)
Your heart is full of something, that do's take
Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong,
And handed loue, as you do; I was wont
To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt
The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd it
To her acceptance: you haue let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse
Interpretation should abuse, and call this
Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited
For a reply at least, if you make a care
Of happie holding her
   Flo. Old Sir, I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are:
The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt
Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already,
But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life
Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme)
Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand,
As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it,
Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd snow, that's bolted
By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore
   Pol. What followes this?
How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash
The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out,
But to your protestation: Let me heare
What you professe
   Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't
   Pol. And this my neighbour too?
  Flo. And he, and more
Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all;
That were I crown'd the most Imperiall Monarch
Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youth
That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge
More then was euer mans, I would not prize them
Without her Loue; for her, employ them all,
Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice,
Or to their owne perdition
   Pol. Fairely offer'd
   Cam. This shewes a sound affection
   Shep. But my daughter,
Say you the like to him
   Per. I cannot speake
So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better
By th' patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out
The puritie of his
   Shep. Take hands, a bargaine;
And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't:
I giue my daughter to him, and will make
Her Portion, equall his
   Flo. O, that must bee
I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead,
I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet,
Enough then for your wonder: but come-on,
Contract vs fore these Witnesses
   Shep. Come, your hand:
And daughter, yours
   Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you,
Haue you a Father?
  Flo. I haue: but what of him?
  Pol. Knowes he of this?
  Flo. He neither do's, nor shall
   Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,
Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest
That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more
Is not your Father growne incapeable
Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid
With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare?
Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate?
Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing
But what he did, being childish?
  Flo. No good Sir:
He has his health, and ampler strength indeede
Then most haue of his age
   Pol. By my white beard,
You offer him (if this be so) a wrong
Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne
Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason
The Father (all whose ioy is nothing else
But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile
In such a businesse
   Flo. I yeeld all this;
But for some other reasons (my graue Sir)
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My Father of this businesse
   Pol. Let him know't
   Flo. He shall not
   Pol. Prethee let him
   Flo. No, he must not
   Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue
At knowing of thy choice
   Flo. Come, come, he must not:
Marke our Contract
   Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir)
Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base
To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire,
That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor,
I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can
But shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece
Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know
The royall Foole thou coap'st with
   Shep. Oh my heart
   Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made
More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy)
If I may euer know thou dost but sigh,
That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer
I meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession,
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,
Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words)
Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time
(Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,
Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,
That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein)
Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou
These rurall Latches, to his entrance open,
Or hope his body more, with thy embraces,
I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee
As thou art tender to't.
  Perd. Euen heere vndone:
I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice
I was about to speake, and tell him plainely,
The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court,
Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but
Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone?
I told you what would come of this: Beseech you
Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine
Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther,
But milke my Ewes, and weepe
   Cam. Why how now Father,
Speake ere thou dyest
   Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,
Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,
You haue vndone a man of fourescore three,
That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea,
To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de,
To lye close by his honest bones; but now
Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me
Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch,
That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture
To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:
If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd
To die when I desire.
  Flo. Why looke you so vpon me?
I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid,
But nothing altred: What I was, I am:
More straining on, for plucking backe; not following
My leash vnwillingly
   Cam. Gracious my Lord,
You know my Fathers temper: at this time
He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse
You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly
Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare;
Then till the fury of his Highnesse settle
Come not before him
   Flo. I not purpose it:
I thinke Camillo
   Cam. Euen he, my Lord
   Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus?
How often said my dignity would last
But till 'twer knowne?
  Flo. It cannot faile, but by
The violation of my faith, and then
Let Nature crush the sides o'th earth together,
And marre the seeds within. Lift vp thy lookes:
From my succession wipe me (Father) I
Am heyre to my affection
   Cam. Be aduis'd
   Flo. I am: and by my fancie, if my Reason
Will thereto be obedient: I haue reason:
If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse,
Do bid it welcome
   Cam. This is desperate (sir.)
  Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow:
I needs must thinke it honesty. Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may
Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or
The close earth wombes, or the profound seas, hides
In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath
To this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you,
As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend,
When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane not
To see him any more) cast your good counsailes
Vpon his passion: Let my selfe, and Fortune
Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And so deliuer, I am put to Sea
With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore:
And most opportune to her neede, I haue
A Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'd
For this designe. What course I meane to hold
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concerne me the reporting
   Cam. O my Lord,
I would your spirit were easier for aduice,
Or stronger for your neede
   Flo. Hearke Perdita,
Ile heare you by and by
   Cam. Hee's irremoueable,
Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if
His going, I could frame to serue my turne,
Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor,
Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia,
And that vnhappy King, my Master, whom
I so much thirst to see
   Flo. Now good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious businesse, that
I leaue out ceremony
   Cam. Sir, I thinke
You haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loue
That I haue borne your Father?
  Flo. Very nobly
Haue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers Musicke
To speake your deeds: not little of his care
To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on
   Cam. Well (my Lord)
If you may please to thinke I loue the King,
And through him, what's neerest to him, which is
Your gracious selfe; embrace but my direction,
If your more ponderous and setled proiect
May suffer alteration. On mine honor,
Ile point you where you shall haue such receiuing
As shall become your Highnesse, where you may
Enioy your Mistris; from the whom, I see
There's no disiunction to be made, but by
(As heauens forefend) your ruine: Marry her,
And with my best endeuours, in your absence,
Your discontenting Father, striue to qualifie
And bring him vp to liking
   Flo. How Camillo
May this (almost a miracle) be done?
That I may call thee something more then man,
And after that trust to thee
   Cam. Haue you thought on
A place whereto you'l go?
  Flo. Not any yet:
But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltie
To what we wildely do, so we professe
Our selues to be the slaues of chance, and flyes
Of euery winde that blowes
   Cam. Then list to me:
This followes, if you will not change your purpose
But vndergo this flight: make for Sicillia,
And there present your selfe, and your fayre Princesse,
(For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes;
She shall be habited, as it becomes
The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see
Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping
His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiuenesse,
As 'twere i'th' Fathers person: kisses the hands
Of your fresh Princesse; ore and ore diuides him,
'Twixt his vnkindnesse, and his Kindnesse: th' one
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
Faster then Thought, or Time
   Flo. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my Visitation, shall I
Hold vp before him?
  Cam. Sent by the King your Father
To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you (as from your Father) shall deliuer,
Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe,
The which shall point you forth at euery sitting
What you must say: that he shall not perceiue,
But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there,
And speake his very Heart
   Flo. I am bound to you:
There is some sappe in this
   Cam. A Course more promising,
Then a wild dedication of your selues
To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine,
To Miseries enough: no hope to helpe you,
But as you shake off one, to take another:
Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, who
Doe their best office, if they can but stay you,
Where you'le be loth to be: besides you know,
Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue,
Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together,
Affliction alters
   Perd. One of these is true:
I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke,
But not take-in the Mind
   Cam. Yea? say you so?
There shall not, at your Fathers House, these seuen yeeres
Be borne another such
   Flo. My good Camillo,
She's as forward, of her Breeding, as
She is i'th' reare' our Birth
   Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pitty
She lacks Instructions, for she seemes a Mistresse
To most that teach
   Perd. Your pardon Sir, for this,
Ile blush you Thanks
   Flo. My prettiest Perdita.
But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo)
Preseruer of my Father, now of me,
The Medicine of our House: how shall we doe?
We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Sonne,
Nor shall appeare in Sicilia
   Cam. My Lord,
Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes
Doe all lye there: it shall be so my care,
To haue you royally appointed, as if
The Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir,
That you may know you shall not want: one word.
Enter Autolicus.
  Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (his
sworne brother) a very simple Gentleman. I haue sold
all my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon,
Glasse, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife,
Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe
my Pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first,
as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a benediction
to the buyer: by which meanes, I saw whose
Purse was best in Picture; and what I saw, to my good
vse, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but something
to be a reasonable man) grew so in loue with the
Wenches Song, that hee would not stirre his Petty-toes,
till he had both Tune and Words, which so drew the rest
of the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke in
Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sencelesse;
'twas nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purse: I
would haue fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: no
hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the
Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickd
and cut most of their Festiuall Purses: And had not the
old-man come in with a Whoo-bub against his Daughter,
and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd my Chowghes from
the Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the whole
   Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there
So soone as you arriue, shall cleare that doubt
   Flo. And those that you'le procure from King Leontes?
  Cam. Shall satisfie your Father
   Perd. Happy be you:
All that you speake, shewes faire
   Cam. Who haue we here?
Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omit
Nothing may giue vs aide
   Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging
   Cam. How now (good Fellow)
Why shak'st thou so? Feare not (man)
Here's no harme intended to thee
   Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir
   Cam. Why, be so still: here's no body will steale that
from thee: yet for the out-side of thy pouertie, we must
make an exchange; therefore dis-case thee instantly (thou
must thinke there's a necessitie in't) and change Garments
with this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on his
side) be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot
   Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well
  Cam. Nay prethee dispatch: the Gentleman is halfe
fled already
   Aut. Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.)
  Flo. Dispatch, I prethee
   Aut. Indeed I haue had Earnest, but I cannot with
conscience take it
   Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle.
Fortunate Mistresse (let my prophecie
Come home to ye:) you must retire your selfe
Into some Couert; take your sweet-hearts Hat
And pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face,
Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) disliken
The truth of your owne seeming, that you may
(For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord
Get vndescry'd
   Perd. I see the Play so lyes,
That I must beare a part
   Cam. No remedie:
Haue you done there?
  Flo. Should I now meet my Father,
He would not call me Sonne
   Cam. Nay, you shall haue no Hat:
Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)
  Aut. Adieu, Sir
   Flo. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot?
'Pray you a word
   Cam. What I doe next, shall be to tell the King
Of this escape, and whither they are bound;
Wherein, my hope is, I shall so preuaile,
To force him after: in whose company
I shall re-view Sicilia; for whose sight,
I haue a Womans Longing
   Flo. Fortune speed vs:
Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Sea-side
   Cam. The swifter speed, the better.
  Aut. I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue an
open eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for
a Cut-purse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell out
worke for th' other Sences. I see this is the time that the
vniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been,
without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange?
Sure the Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we may
doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about
a peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from his Father, with
his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece of honestie
to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I
hold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am
I constant to my Profession.
Enter Clowne and Shepheard.
Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot braine: Euery
Lanes end, euery Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yeelds
a carefull man worke
   Clowne. See, see: what a man you are now? there is no
other way, but to tell the King she's a Changeling, and
none of your flesh and blood
   Shep. Nay, but heare me
   Clow. Nay; but heare me
   Shep. Goe too then
   Clow. She being none of your flesh and blood, your
flesh and blood ha's not offended the King, and so your
flesh and blood is not to be punish'd by him. Shew those
things you found about her (those secret things, all but
what she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe
whistle: I warrant you
   Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his
Sonnes prancks too; who, I may say, is no honest man,
neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me
the Kings Brother in Law
   Clow. Indeed Brother in Law was the farthest off you
could haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beene
the dearer, by I know how much an ounce
   Aut. Very wisely (Puppies.)
  Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this
Farthell, will make him scratch his Beard
   Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint
may be to the flight of my Master
   Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace
   Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes
by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excrement.
How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound?
  Shep. To th' Pallace (and it like your Worship.)
  Aut. Your Affaires there? what? with whom? the
Condition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling?
your names? your ages? of what hauing? breeding, and
any thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer?
  Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir
   Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue
no lying; it becomes none but Trades-men, and they often
giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for it
with stamped Coyne, not stabbing Steele, therefore they
doe not giue vs the Lye
   Clo. Your Worship had like to haue giuen vs one, if
you had not taken your selfe with the manner
   Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?
  Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest
thou not the ayre of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hath
not my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receiues not
thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy
Basenesse, Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that I
insinuate, at toaze from thee thy Businesse, I am therefore
no Courtier? I am Courtier Capape; and one that
will eyther push-on, or pluck-back, thy Businesse there:
whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire
   Shep. My Businesse, Sir, is to the King
   Aut. What Aduocate ha'st thou to him?
  Shep. I know not (and't like you.)
  Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: say
you haue none
   Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen
   Aut. How blessed are we, that are not simple men?
Yet Nature might haue made me as these are,
Therefore I will not disdaine
   Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier
   Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not
   Clo. He seemes to be the more Noble, in being fantasticall:
A great man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking
   Aut. The Farthell there? What's i'th' Farthell?
Wherefore that Box?
  Shep. Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthell and
Box, which none must know but the King, and which hee
shall know within this houre, if I may come to th' speech
   Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour
   Shep. Why Sir?
  Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboord
a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: for
if thou bee'st capable of things serious, thou must know
the King is full of griefe
   Shep. So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Sonne, that should
haue marryed a Shepheards Daughter
   Aut. If that Shepheard be not in hand-fast, let him
flye; the Curses he shall haue, the Tortures he shall feele,
will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monster
   Clo. Thinke you so, Sir?
  Aut. Not hee alone shall suffer what Wit can make
heauie, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaine
to him (though remou'd fiftie times) shall all come vnder
the Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it is
necessarie. An old Sheepe-whistling Rogue, a Ram-tender,
to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Some
say hee shall be ston'd: but that death is too soft for him
(say I:) Draw our Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deaths
are too few, the sharpest too easie
   Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare)
and't like you, Sir?
  Aut. Hee ha's a Sonne: who shall be flayd aliue, then
'noynted ouer with Honey, set on the head of a Waspes
Nest, then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead:
then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or some other hot
Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hotest day Prognostication
proclaymes) shall he be set against a Brick-wall,
(the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him;
where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.)
But what talke we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose miseries
are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capitall?
Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what you
haue to the King: being something gently consider'd, Ile
bring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to his
presence, whisper him in your behalfes; and if it be in
man, besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man
shall doe it
   Clow. He seemes to be of great authoritie: close with
him, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a stubborne
Beare, yet hee is oft led by the Nose with Gold:
shew the in-side of your Purse to the out-side of his
hand, and no more adoe. Remember ston'd, and flay'd
   Shep. And't please you (Sir) to vndertake the Businesse
for vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much
more, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring it
   Aut. After I haue done what I promised?
  Shep. I Sir
   Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie in
this Businesse?
  Clow. In some sort, Sir: but though my case be a pittifull
one, I hope I shall not be flayd out of it
   Aut. Oh, that's the case of the Shepheards Sonne:
hang him, hee'le be made an example
   Clow. Comfort, good comfort: We must to the King,
and shew our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of
your Daughter, nor my Sister: wee are gone else. Sir, I
will giue you as much as this old man do's, when the Businesse
is performed, and remaine (as he sayes) your pawne
till it be brought you
   Aut. I will trust you. Walke before toward the Seaside,
goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon the
Hedge, and follow you
   Clow. We are bless'd, in this man: as I may say, euen
   Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to
   Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would
not suffer mee: shee drops Booties in my mouth. I am
courted now with a double occasion: (Gold, and a means
to doe the Prince my Master good; which, who knowes
how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will
bring these two Moales, these blind-ones, aboord him: if
he thinke it fit to shoare them againe, and that the Complaint
they haue to the King, concernes him nothing, let
him call me Rogue, for being so farre officious, for I am
proofe against that Title, and what shame else belongs
to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Leontes, Cleomines, Dion, Paulina, Seruants: Florizel,
  Cleo. Sir, you haue done enough, and haue perform'd
A Saint-like Sorrow: No fault could you make,
Which you haue not redeem'd; indeed pay'd downe
More penitence, then done trespas: At the last
Doe, as the Heauens haue done; forget your euill,
With them, forgiue your selfe
   Leo. Whilest I remember
Her, and her Vertues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them, and so still thinke of
The wrong I did my selfe: which was so much,
That Heire-lesse it hath made my Kingdome, and
Destroy'd the sweet'st Companion, that ere man
Bred his hopes out of, true
   Paul. Too true (my Lord:)
If one by one, you wedded all the World,
Or from the All that are, tooke something good,
To make a perfect Woman; she you kill'd,
Would be vnparallell'd
   Leo. I thinke so. Kill'd?
She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me
Sorely, to say I did: it is as bitter
Vpon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now,
Say so but seldome
   Cleo. Not at all, good Lady:
You might haue spoken a thousand things, that would
Haue done the time more benefit, and grac'd
Your kindnesse better
   Paul. You are one of those
Would haue him wed againe
   Dio. If you would not so,
You pitty not the State, nor the Remembrance
Of his most Soueraigne Name: Consider little,
What Dangers, by his Highnesse faile of Issue,
May drop vpon his Kingdome, and deuoure
Incertaine lookers on. What were more holy,
Then to reioyce the former Queene is well?
What holyer, then for Royalties repayre,
For present comfort, and for future good,
To blesse the Bed of Maiestie againe
With a sweet Fellow to't?
  Paul. There is none worthy,
(Respecting her that's gone:) besides the Gods
Will haue fulfill'd their secret purposes:
For ha's not the Diuine Apollo said?
Is't not the tenor of his Oracle,
That King Leontes shall not haue an Heire,
Till his lost Child be found? Which, that it shall,
Is all as monstrous to our humane reason,
As my Antigonus to breake his Graue,
And come againe to me: who, on my life,
Did perish with the Infant. 'Tis your councell,
My Lord should to the Heauens be contrary,
Oppose against their wills. Care not for Issue,
The Crowne will find an Heire. Great Alexander
Left his to th' Worthiest: so his Successor
Was like to be the best
   Leo. Good Paulina,
Who hast the memorie of Hermione
I know in honor: O, that euer I
Had squar'd me to thy councell: then, euen now,
I might haue look'd vpon my Queenes full eyes,
Haue taken Treasure from her Lippes
   Paul. And left them
More rich, for what they yeelded
   Leo. Thou speak'st truth:
No more such Wiues, therefore no Wife: one worse,
And better vs'd, would make her Sainted Spirit
Againe possesse her Corps, and on this Stage
(Where we Offendors now appeare) Soule-vext,
And begin, why to me?
  Paul. Had she such power,
She had iust such cause
   Leo. She had, and would incense me
To murther her I marryed
   Paul. I should so:
Were I the Ghost that walk'd, Il'd bid you marke
Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
You chose her: then Il'd shrieke, that euen your eares
Should rift to heare me, and the words that follow'd,
Should be, Remember mine
   Leo. Starres, Starres,
And all eyes else, dead coales: feare thou no Wife;
Ile haue no Wife, Paulina
   Paul. Will you sweare
Neuer to marry, but by my free leaue?
  Leo. Neuer (Paulina) so be bless'd my Spirit
   Paul. Then good my Lords, beare witnesse to his Oath
   Cleo. You tempt him ouer-much
   Paul. Vnlesse another,
As like Hermione, as is her Picture,
Affront his eye
   Cleo. Good Madame, I haue done
   Paul. Yet if my Lord will marry: if you will, Sir;
No remedie but you will: Giue me the Office
To chuse you a Queene: she shall not be so young
As was your former, but she shall be such
As (walk'd your first Queenes Ghost) it should take ioy
To see her in your armes
   Leo. My true Paulina,
We shall not marry, till thou bidst vs
   Paul. That
Shall be when your first Queene's againe in breath:
Neuer till then.
Enter a Seruant.
  Ser. One that giues out himselfe Prince Florizell,
Sonne of Polixenes, with his Princesse (she
The fairest I haue yet beheld) desires accesse
To your high presence
   Leo. What with him? he comes not
Like to his Fathers Greatnesse: his approach
(So out of circumstance, and suddaine) tells vs,
'Tis not a Visitation fram'd, but forc'd
By need, and accident. What Trayne?
  Ser. But few,
And those but meane
   Leo. His Princesse (say you) with him?
  Ser. I: the most peerelesse peece of Earth, I thinke,
That ere the Sunne shone bright on
   Paul. Oh Hermione,
As euery present Time doth boast it selfe
Aboue a better, gone; so must thy Graue
Giue way to what's seene now. Sir, you your selfe
Haue said, and writ so; but your writing now
Is colder then that Theame: she had not beene,
Nor was not to be equall'd, thus your Verse
Flow'd with her Beautie once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
To say you haue seene a better
   Ser. Pardon, Madame:
The one, I haue almost forgot (your pardon:)
The other, when she ha's obtayn'd your Eye,
Will haue your Tongue too. This is a Creature,
Would she begin a Sect, might quench the zeale
Of all Professors else; make Proselytes
Of who she but bid follow
   Paul. How? not women?
  Ser. Women will loue her, that she is a Woman
More worth then any Man: Men, that she is
The rarest of all Women
   Leo. Goe Cleomines,
Your selfe (assisted with your honor'd Friends)
Bring them to our embracement. Still 'tis strange,
He thus should steale vpon vs.
   Paul. Had our Prince
(Iewell of Children) seene this houre, he had payr'd
Well with this Lord; there was not full a moneth
Betweene their births
   Leo. 'Prethee no more; cease: thou know'st
He dyes to me againe, when talk'd-of: sure
When I shall see this Gentleman, thy speeches
Will bring me to consider that, which may
Vnfurnish me of Reason. They are come.
Enter Florizell, Perdita, Cleomines, and others.
Your Mother was most true to Wedlock, Prince,
For she did print your Royall Father off,
Conceiuing you. Were I but twentie one,
Your Fathers Image is so hit in you,
(His very ayre) that I should call you Brother,
As I did him, and speake of something wildly
By vs perform'd before. Most dearely welcome,
And your faire Princesse (Goddesse) oh: alas,
I lost a couple, that 'twixt Heauen and Earth
Might thus haue stood, begetting wonder, as
You (gracious Couple) doe: and then I lost
(All mine owne Folly) the Societie,
Amitie too of your braue Father, whom
(Though bearing Miserie) I desire my life
Once more to looke on him
   Flo. By his command
Haue I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him
Giue you all greetings, that a King (at friend)
Can send his Brother: and but Infirmitie
(Which waits vpon worne times) hath something seiz'd
His wish'd Abilitie, he had himselfe
The Lands and Waters, 'twixt your Throne and his,
Measur'd, to looke vpon you; whom he loues
(He bad me say so) more then all the Scepters,
And those that beare them, liuing
   Leo. Oh my Brother,
(Good Gentleman) the wrongs I haue done thee, stirre
Afresh within me: and these thy offices
(So rarely kind) are as Interpreters
Of my behind-hand slacknesse. Welcome hither,
As is the Spring to th' Earth. And hath he too
Expos'd this Paragon to th' fearefull vsage
(At least vngentle) of the dreadfull Neptune,
To greet a man, not worth her paines; much lesse,
Th' aduenture of her person?
  Flo. Good my Lord,
She came from Libia
   Leo. Where the Warlike Smalus,
That Noble honor'd Lord, is fear'd, and lou'd?
  Flo. Most Royall Sir,
From thence: from him, whose Daughter
His Teares proclaym'd his parting with her: thence
(A prosperous South-wind friendly) we haue cross'd,
To execute the Charge my Father gaue me,
For visiting your Highnesse: My best Traine
I haue from your Sicilian Shores dismiss'd;
Who for Bohemia bend, to signifie
Not onely my successe in Libia (Sir)
But my arriuall, and my Wifes, in safetie
Here, where we are
   Leo. The blessed Gods
Purge all Infection from our Ayre, whilest you
Doe Clymate here: you haue a holy Father,
A graceful Gentleman, against whose person
(So sacred as it is) I haue done sinne,
For which, the Heauens (taking angry note)
Haue left me Issue-lesse: and your Father's bless'd
(As he from Heauen merits it) with you,
Worthy his goodnesse. What might I haue been,
Might I a Sonne and Daughter now haue look'd on,
Such goodly things as you?
Enter a Lord.
  Lord. Most Noble Sir,
That which I shall report, will beare no credit,
Were not the proofe so nigh. Please you (great Sir)
Bohemia greets you from himselfe, by me:
Desires you to attach his Sonne, who ha's
(His Dignitie, and Dutie both cast off)
Fled from his Father, from his Hopes, and with
A Shepheards Daughter
   Leo. Where's Bohemia? speake:
  Lord. Here, in your Citie: I now came from him.
I speake amazedly, and it becomes
My meruaile, and my Message. To your Court
Whiles he was hastning (in the Chase, it seemes,
Of this faire Couple) meetes he on the way
The Father of this seeming Lady, and
Her Brother, hauing both their Countrey quitted,
With this young Prince
   Flo. Camillo ha's betray'd me;
Whose honor, and whose honestie till now,
Endur'd all Weathers
   Lord. Lay't so to his charge:
He's with the King your Father
   Leo. Who? Camillo?
  Lord. Camillo (Sir:) I spake with him: who now
Ha's these poore men in question. Neuer saw I
Wretches so quake: they kneele, they kisse the Earth;
Forsweare themselues as often as they speake:
Bohemia stops his eares, and threatens them
With diuers deaths, in death
   Perd. Oh my poore Father:
The Heauen sets Spyes vpon vs, will not haue
Our Contract celebrated
   Leo. You are marryed?
  Flo. We are not (Sir) nor are we like to be:
The Starres (I see) will kisse the Valleyes first:
The oddes for high and low's alike
   Leo. My Lord,
Is this the Daughter of a King?
  Flo. She is,
When once she is my Wife
   Leo. That once (I see) by your good Fathers speed,
Will come-on very slowly. I am sorry
(Most sorry) you haue broken from his liking,
Where you were ty'd in dutie: and as sorry,
Your Choice is not so rich in Worth, as Beautie,
That you might well enioy her
   Flo. Deare, looke vp:
Though Fortune, visible an Enemie,
Should chase vs, with my Father; powre no iot
Hath she to change our Loues. Beseech you (Sir)
Remember, since you ow'd no more to Time
Then I doe now: with thought of such Affections,
Step forth mine Aduocate: at your request,
My Father will graunt precious things, as Trifles
   Leo. Would he doe so, I'ld beg your precious Mistris,
Which he counts but a Trifle
   Paul. Sir (my Liege)
Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a moneth
'Fore your Queene dy'd, she was more worth such gazes,
Then what you looke on now
   Leo. I thought of her,
Euen in these Lookes I made. But your Petition
Is yet vn-answer'd: I will to your Father:
Your Honor not o're-throwne by your desires,
I am friend to them, and you: Vpon which Errand
I now goe toward him: therefore follow me,
And marke what way I make: Come good my Lord.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Autolicus, and a Gentleman.
  Aut. Beseech you (Sir) were you present at this Relation?
  Gent.1. I was by at the opening of the Farthell, heard
the old Shepheard deliuer the manner how he found it:
Whereupon (after a little amazednesse) we were all commanded
out of the Chamber: onely this (me thought) I
heard the Shepheard say, he found the Child
   Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it
   Gent.1. I make a broken deliuerie of the Businesse;
but the changes I perceiued in the King, and Camillo, were
very Notes of admiration: they seem'd almost, with staring
on one another, to teare the Cases of their Eyes.
There was speech in their dumbnesse, Language in their
very gesture: they look'd as they had heard of a World
ransom'd, or one destroyed: a notable passion of Wonder
appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew
no more but seeing, could not say, if th' importance were
Ioy, or Sorrow; but in the extremitie of the one, it must
Enter another Gentleman.
Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knowes more:
The Newes, Rogero
   Gent.2. Nothing but Bon-fires: the Oracle is fulfill'd:
the Kings Daughter is found: such a deale of wonder is
broken out within this houre, that Ballad-makers cannot
be able to expresse it.
Enter another Gentleman.
Here comes the Lady Paulina's Steward, hee can deliuer
you more. How goes it now (Sir.) This Newes (which
is call'd true) is so like an old Tale, that the veritie of it is
in strong suspition: Ha's the King found his Heire?
  Gent.3. Most true, if euer Truth were pregnant by
Circumstance: That which you heare, you'le sweare
you see, there is such vnitie in the proofes. The Mantle
of Queene Hermiones: her Iewell about the Neck of it:
the Letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know
to be his Character: the Maiestie of the Creature, in resemblance
of the Mother: the Affection of Noblenesse,
which Nature shewes aboue her Breeding, and many other
Euidences, proclayme her, with all certaintie, to be
the Kings Daughter. Did you see the meeting of the
  Gent.2. No
   Gent.3. Then haue you lost a Sight which was to bee
seene, cannot bee spoken of. There might you haue beheld
one Ioy crowne another, so and in such manner, that
it seem'd Sorrow wept to take leaue of them: for their
Ioy waded in teares. There was casting vp of Eyes, holding
vp of Hands, with Countenance of such distraction,
that they were to be knowne by Garment, not by Fauor.
Our King being ready to leape out of himselfe, for ioy of
his found Daughter; as if that Ioy were now become a
Losse, cryes, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother: then askes
Bohemia forgiuenesse, then embraces his Sonne-in-Law:
then againe worryes he his Daughter, with clipping her.
Now he thanks the old Shepheard (which stands by, like
a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many Kings Reignes.) I
neuer heard of such another Encounter; which lames Report
to follow it, and vndo's description to doe it
   Gent.2. What, 'pray you, became of Antigonus, that
carryed hence the Child?
  Gent.3. Like an old Tale still, which will haue matter
to rehearse, though Credit be asleepe, and not an eare open;
he was torne to pieces with a Beare: This auouches
the Shepheards Sonne; who ha's not onely his Innocence
(which seemes much) to iustifie him, but a Hand-kerchief
and Rings of his, that Paulina knowes
   Gent.1. What became of his Barke, and his Followers?
  Gent.3. Wrackt the same instant of their Masters
death, and in the view of the Shepheard: so that all the
Instruments which ayded to expose the Child, were euen
then lost, when it was found. But oh the Noble Combat,
that 'twixt Ioy and Sorrow was fought in Paulina. Shee
had one Eye declin'd for the losse of her Husband, another
eleuated, that the Oracle was fulfill'd: Shee lifted the
Princesse from the Earth, and so locks her in embracing,
as if shee would pin her to her heart, that shee might no
more be in danger of loosing
   Gent.1. The Dignitie of this Act was worth the audience
of Kings and Princes, for by such was it acted
   Gent.3. One of the prettyest touches of all, and that
which angl'd for mine Eyes (caught the Water, though
not the Fish) was, when at the Relation of the Queenes
death (with the manner how shee came to't, brauely confess'd,
and lamented by the King) how attentiuenesse
wounded his Daughter, till (from one signe of dolour to
another) shee did (with an Alas) I would faine say, bleed
Teares; for I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who was
most Marble, there changed colour: some swownded, all
sorrowed: if all the World could haue seen't, the Woe
had beene vniuersall
   Gent.1. Are they returned to the Court?
  Gent.3. No: The Princesse hearing of her Mothers
Statue (which is in the keeping of Paulina) a Peece many
yeeres in doing, and now newly perform'd, by that rare
Italian Master, Iulio Romano, who (had he himselfe Eternitie,
and could put Breath into his Worke) would beguile
Nature of her Custome, so perfectly he is her Ape:
He so neere to Hermione, hath done Hermione, that they
say one would speake to her, and stand in hope of answer.
Thither (with all greedinesse of affection) are they gone,
and there they intend to Sup
   Gent.2. I thought she had some great matter there in
hand, for shee hath priuately, twice or thrice a day, euer
since the death of Hermione, visited that remoued House.
Shall wee thither, and with our companie peece the Reioycing?
  Gent.1. Who would be thence, that ha's the benefit
of Accesse? euery winke of an Eye, some new Grace
will be borne: our Absence makes vs vnthriftie to our
Knowledge. Let's along.
  Aut. Now (had I not the dash of my former life in
me) would Preferment drop on my head. I brought the
old man and his Sonne aboord the Prince; told him, I
heard them talke of a Farthell, and I know not what: but
he at that time ouer-fond of the Shepheards Daughter (so
he then tooke her to be) who began to be much Sea-sick,
and himselfe little better, extremitie of Weather continuing,
this Mysterie remained vndiscouer'd. But 'tis all
one to me: for had I beene the finder-out of this Secret,
it would not haue rellish'd among my other discredits.
Enter Shepheard and Clowne.
Here come those I haue done good to against my will,
and alreadie appearing in the blossomes of their Fortune
   Shep. Come Boy, I am past moe Children: but thy
Sonnes and Daughters will be all Gentlemen borne
   Clow. You are well met (Sir:) you deny'd to fight
with mee this other day, because I was no Gentleman
borne. See you these Clothes? say you see them not,
and thinke me still no Gentleman borne: You were best
say these Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Giue me the
Lye: doe: and try whether I am not now a Gentleman
   Aut. I know you are now (Sir) a Gentleman borne
   Clow. I, and haue been so any time these foure houres
   Shep. And so haue I, Boy
   Clow. So you haue: but I was a Gentleman borne before
my Father: for the Kings Sonne tooke me by the
hand, and call'd mee Brother: and then the two Kings
call'd my Father Brother: and then the Prince (my Brother)
and the Princesse (my Sister) call'd my Father, Father;
and so wee wept: and there was the first Gentleman-like
teares that euer we shed
   Shep. We may liue (Sonne) to shed many more
   Clow. I: or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous
estate as we are
   Aut. I humbly beseech you (Sir) to pardon me all the
faults I haue committed to your Worship, and to giue
me your good report to the Prince my Master
   Shep. 'Prethee Sonne doe: for we must be gentle, now
we are Gentlemen
   Clow. Thou wilt amend thy life?
  Aut. I, and it like your good Worship
   Clow. Giue me thy hand: I will sweare to the Prince,
thou art as honest a true Fellow as any is in Bohemia
   Shep. You may say it, but not sweare it
   Clow. Not sweare it, now I am a Gentleman? Let
Boores and Francklins say it, Ile sweare it
   Shep. How if it be false (Sonne?)
  Clow. If it be ne're so false, a true Gentleman may
sweare it, in the behalfe of his Friend: And Ile sweare to
the Prince, thou art a tall Fellow of thy hands, and that
thou wilt not be drunke: but I know thou art no tall Fellow
of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunke: but Ile
sweare it, and I would thou would'st be a tall Fellow of
   Aut. I will proue so (Sir) to my power
   Clow. I, by any meanes proue a tall Fellow: if I do not
wonder, how thou dar'st venture to be drunke, not being
a tall Fellow, trust me not. Harke, the Kings and Princes
(our Kindred) are going to see the Queenes Picture.
Come, follow vs: wee'le be thy good Masters.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina:
(like a Statue:) Lords, &c.
  Leo. O graue and good Paulina, the great comfort
That I haue had of thee?
  Paul. What (Soueraigne Sir)
I did not well, I meant well: all my Seruices
You haue pay'd home. But that you haue vouchsaf'd
(With your Crown'd Brother, and these your contracted
Heires of your Kingdomes) my poore House to visit;
It is a surplus of your Grace, which neuer
My life may last to answere
   Leo. O Paulina,
We honor you with trouble: but we came
To see the Statue of our Queene. Your Gallerie
Haue we pass'd through, not without much content
In many singularities; but we saw not
That which my Daughter came to looke vpon,
The Statue of her Mother
   Paul. As she liu'd peerelesse,
So her dead likenesse I doe well beleeue
Excells what euer yet you look'd vpon,
Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keepe it
Louely, apart. But here it is: prepare
To see the Life as liuely mock'd, as euer
Still Sleepe mock'd Death: behold, and say 'tis well.
I like your silence, it the more shewes-off
Your wonder: but yet speake, first you (my Liege)
Comes it not something neere?
  Leo. Her naturall Posture.
Chide me (deare Stone) that I may say indeed
Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she,
In thy not chiding: for she was as tender
As Infancie, and Grace. But yet (Paulina)
Hermione was not so much wrinckled, nothing
So aged as this seemes
   Pol. Oh, not by much
   Paul. So much the more our Caruers excellence,
Which lets goe-by some sixteene yeeres, and makes her
As she liu'd now
   Leo. As now she might haue done,
So much to my good comfort, as it is
Now piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus she stood,
Euen with such Life of Maiestie (warme Life,
As now it coldly stands) when first I woo'd her.
I am asham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me,
For being more Stone then it? Oh Royall Peece:
There's Magick in thy Maiestie, which ha's
My Euils coniur'd to remembrance; and
From thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits,
Standing like Stone with thee
   Perd. And giue me leaue,
And doe not say 'tis Superstition, that
I kneele, and then implore her Blessing. Lady,
Deere Queene, that ended when I but began,
Giue me that hand of yours, to kisse
   Paul. O, patience:
The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour's
   Cam. My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on,
Which sixteene Winters cannot blow away,
So many Summers dry: scarce any Ioy
Did euer so long liue; no Sorrow,
But kill'd it selfe much sooner
   Pol. Deere my Brother,
Let him, that was the cause of this, haue powre
To take-off so much griefe from you, as he
Will peece vp in himselfe
   Paul. Indeed my Lord,
If I had thought the sight of my poore Image
Would thus haue wrought you (for the Stone is mine)
Il'd not haue shew'd it
   Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine
   Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, least your Fancie
May thinke anon, it moues
   Leo. Let be, let be:
Would I were dead, but that me thinkes alreadie.
(What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord)
Would you not deeme it breath'd? and that those veines
Did verily beare blood?
  Pol. 'Masterly done:
The very Life seemes warme vpon her Lippe
   Leo. The fixure of her Eye ha's motion in't,
As we are mock'd with Art
   Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine:
My Lord's almost so farre transported, that
Hee'le thinke anon it liues
   Leo. Oh sweet Paulina,
Make me to thinke so twentie yeeres together:
No setled Sences of the World can match
The pleasure of that madnesse. Let't alone
   Paul. I am sorry (Sir) I haue thus farre stir'd you: but
I could afflict you farther
   Leo. Doe Paulina:
For this Affliction ha's a taste as sweet
As any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkes
There is an ayre comes from her. What fine Chizzell
Could euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
For I will kisse her
   Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare:
The ruddinesse vpon her Lippe, is wet:
You'le marre it, if you kisse it; stayne your owne
With Oyly Painting: shall I draw the Curtaine
   Leo. No: not these twentie yeeres
   Perd. So long could I
Stand-by, a looker-on
   Paul. Either forbeare,
Quit presently the Chappell, or resolue you
For more amazement: if you can behold it,
Ile make the Statue moue indeed; descend,
And take you by the hand: but then you'le thinke
(Which I protest against) I am assisted
By wicked Powers
   Leo. What you can make her doe,
I am content to looke on: what to speake,
I am content to heare: for 'tis as easie
To make her speake, as moue
   Paul. It is requir'd
You doe awake your Faith: then, all stand still:
On: those that thinke it is vnlawfull Businesse
I am about, let them depart
   Leo. Proceed:
No foot shall stirre
   Paul. Musick; awake her: Strike:
'Tis time: descend: be Stone no more: approach:
Strike all that looke vpon with meruaile: Come:
Ile fill your Graue vp: stirre: nay, come away:
Bequeath to Death your numnesse: (for from him,
Deare Life redeemes you) you perceiue she stirres:
Start not: her Actions shall be holy, as
You heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not shun her,
Vntill you see her dye againe; for then
You kill her double: Nay, present your Hand:
When she was young, you woo'd her: now, in age,
Is she become the Suitor?
  Leo. Oh, she's warme:
If this be Magick, let it be an Art
Lawfull as Eating
   Pol. She embraces him
   Cam. She hangs about his necke,
If she pertaine to life, let her speake too
   Pol. I, and make it manifest where she ha's liu'd,
Or how stolne from the dead?
  Paul. That she is liuing,
Were it but told you, should be hooted at
Like an old Tale: but it appeares she liues,
Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while:
Please you to interpose (faire Madam) kneele,
And pray your Mothers blessing: turne good Lady,
Our Perdita is found
   Her. You Gods looke downe,
And from your sacred Viols poure your graces
Vpon my daughters head: Tell me (mine owne)
Where hast thou bin preseru'd? Where liu'd? How found
Thy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that I
Knowing by Paulina, that the Oracle
Gaue hope thou wast in being, haue preseru'd
My selfe, to see the yssue
   Paul. There's time enough for that,
Least they desire (vpon this push) to trouble
Your ioyes, with like Relation. Go together
You precious winners all: your exultation
Partake to euery one: I (an old Turtle)
Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there
My Mate (that's neuer to be found againe)
Lament, till I am lost
   Leo. O peace Paulina:
Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,
As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match,
And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou hast found mine,
But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her
(As I thought) dead: and haue (in vaine) said many
A prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre
(For him, I partly know his minde) to finde thee
An honourable husband. Come Camillo,
And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty
Is richly noted: and heere iustified
By Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place.
What? looke vpon my Brother: both your pardons,
That ere I put betweene your holy lookes
My ill suspition: This your Son-in-law,
And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directing
Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,
Leade vs from hence, where we may leysurely
Each one demand, and answere to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of Time, since first
We were disseuer'd: Hastily lead away.
The Names of the Actors.
 Leontes, King of Sicillia.
 Mamillus, yong Prince of Sicillia.
 Lords of Sicillia.
 Hermione, Queene to Leontes.
 Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.
 Paulina, wife to Antigonus.
 Emilia, a Lady.
 Polixenes, King of Bohemia.
 Florizell, Prince of Bohemia.
 Old Shepheard, reputed Father of Perdita.
 Clowne, his Sonne.
 Autolicus, a Rogue.
 Archidamus, a Lord of Bohemia.
 Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants.
 Shepheards, and Shephearddesses.
FINIS. The Winters Tale.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of 
Henry the Sixt
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first 
Part of Henry the Sixt.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
Actus primus, Scena prima.
A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a
Ship-master,
and a Boteswaine.
  Master: Bote-swaine
  Botes: Heere Master: What cheere?
  Master: Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall
too't, yarely, or we run our selves a ground,
bestirre, bestirre.
Enter Mariners.
  Botes: Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts:
yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters
whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and
  Alon: Good Boteswaine have care: where's the Master?
Play the men.
  Botes: I pray now keepe below.
  Anth: Where is the Master, Boson?
  Botes: Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
  Gonz: Nay, good be patient.
  Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.
  Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
  Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are
a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence,
and worke the peace of the present, wee will not
hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot,
giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your
selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the
houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our
  Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks
he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion
is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging,
make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our
owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee
hang'd, our case is miserable.
Enter Boteswaine
  Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower,
bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague -
A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.
vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather,
or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we
giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
  Sebas. A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphemous
incharitable Dog.
  Botes. Worke you then.
  Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker,
we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art.
  Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the
Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as
an vnstanched wench.
  Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off
to Sea againe, lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet.
  Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
  Botes. What must our mouths be cold?
  Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them,
for our case is as theirs
   Sebas. I'am out of patience
   An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards,
This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning
the washing of ten Tides
   Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet,
Though euery drop of water sweare against it,
And gape at widst to glut him.
A confused noyse within.
Mercy on vs.
We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children,
Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split
   Anth. Let's all sinke with' King
  Seb. Let's take leaue of him.
  Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea,
for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne
firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would
faine dye a dry death.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
  Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue
Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them:
The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch,
But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke,
Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered
With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell
(Who had no doubt some noble creature in her)
Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke
Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd.
Had I byn any God of power, I would
Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere
It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and
The fraughting Soules within her
   Pros. Be collected,
No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart
there's no harme done
   Mira. O woe, the day
   Pros. No harme:
I haue done nothing, but in care of thee
(Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who
Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing
Of whence I am: nor that I am more better
Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell,
And thy no greater Father
   Mira. More to know
Did neuer medle with my thoughts
   Pros. 'Tis time
I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand
And plucke my Magick garment from me: So,
Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort,
The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd
The very vertue of compassion in thee:
I haue with such prouision in mine Art
So safely ordered, that there is no soule
No not so much perdition as an hayre
Betid to any creature in the vessell
Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe,
For thou must now know farther
   Mira. You haue often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt
And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition,
Concluding, stay: not yet
   Pros. The howr's now come
The very minute byds thee ope thine eare,
Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember
A time before we came vnto this Cell?
I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not
Out three yeeres old
   Mira. Certainely Sir, I can
   Pros. By what? by any other house, or person?
Of any thing the Image, tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance
   Mira. 'Tis farre off:
And rather like a dreame, then an assurance
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not
Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?
  Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it
That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els
In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time?
Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here thou maist
   Mira. But that I doe not
   Pros. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since,
Thy father was the Duke of Millaine and
A Prince of power:
  Mira. Sir, are not you my Father?
  Pros. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire,
And Princesse; no worse Issued
   Mira. O the heauens,
What fowle play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't we did?
  Pros. Both, both my Girle.
By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence,
But blessedly holpe hither
   Mira. O my heart bleedes
To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;
  Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio:
I pray thee marke me, that a brother should
Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe
Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put
The mannage of my state, as at that time
Through all the signories it was the first,
And Prospero, the prime Duke, being so reputed
In dignity; and for the liberall Artes,
Without a paralell; those being all my studie,
The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother,
And to my State grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle
(Do'st thou attend me?)
  Mira. Sir, most heedefully
   Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites,
how to deny them: who t' aduance, and who
To trash for ouer-topping; new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em,
Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key,
Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state
To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was
The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck,
And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not?
  Mira. O good Sir, I doe
Pros. I pray thee marke me:
I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closenes, and the bettering of my mind
with that, which but by being so retir'd
Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother
Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great
As my trust was, which had indeede no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded,
Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded,
But what my power might els exact. Like one
Who hauing into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a synner of his memorie
To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue
He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution
And executing th' outward face of Roialtie
With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing:
Do'st thou heare ?
  Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse
   Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid,
And him he plaid it for, he needes will be
Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie
Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties
He thinks me now incapable. Confederates
(so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples
To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage
Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend
The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine)
To most ignoble stooping
   Mira. Oh the heauens:
  Pros. Marke his condition, and th' euent, then tell me
If this might be a brother
   Mira. I should sinne
To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,
Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes
   Pro. Now the Condition.
This King of Naples being an Enemy
To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit,
Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine
With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon
A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night
Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open
The gates of Millaine, and ith' dead of darkenesse
The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying selfe
   Mir. Alack, for pitty:
I not remembring how I cride out then
Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes too't
   Pro. Heare a little further,
And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse
Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story
Were most impertinent
   Mir. Wherefore did they not
That howre destroy vs?
  Pro. Well demanded, wench:
My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not,
So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set
A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but
With colours fairer, painted their foule ends.
In few, they hurried vs aboord a Barke,
Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared
A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats
Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs
To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh
To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe
Did vs but louing wrong
   Mir. Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you?
   Pro. O, a Cherubin
Thou was't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heauen,
When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me
An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp
Against what should ensue
   Mir. How came we a shore?
   Pro. By prouidence diuine,
Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neopolitan Gonzalo
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed
Master of this designe) did giue vs, with
Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries
Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse
Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnishd me
From mine owne Library, with volumes, that
I prize aboue my Dukedome
   Mir. Would I might
But euer see that man
   Pro. Now I arise,
Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow:
Heere in this Iland we arriu'd, and heere
Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit
Then other Princesse can, that haue more time
For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull
   Mir. Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir,
For still 'tis beating in my minde; your reason
For raysing this Sea-storme?
   Pro. Know thus far forth,
By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune
(Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore: And by my prescience
I finde my Zenith doth depend vpon
A most auspitious starre, whose influence
If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes
Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions,
Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse,
And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse:
Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now,
Approach my Ariel. Come.
Enter Ariel.
  Ari. All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride
On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske
Ariel, and all his Qualitie
   Pro. Hast thou, Spirit,
Performd to point, the Tempest that I bad thee
   Ar. To euery Article.
I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake,
Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn,
I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide
And burne in many places; on the Top-mast,
The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly,
Then meete, and ioyne. Ioues Lightning, the precursers
O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie
And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble,
Yea, his dread Trident shake
   Pro. My braue Spirit,
Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle
Would not infect his reason?
  Ar. Not a soule
But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid
Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners
Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell;
Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand
With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire)
Was the first man that leapt; cride hell is empty,
And all the Diuels are heere
   Pro. Why that's my spirit:
But was not this nye shore?
   Ar. Close by, my Master
   Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe?
   Ar. Not a haire perishd:
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher then before: and as thou badst me,
In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle:
The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe,
Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes,
In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting
His armes in this sad knot
   Pro. Of the Kings ship,
The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd,
And all the rest o'th' Fleete?
  Ar. Safely in harbour
Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once
Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe
From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid;
The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed,
Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour
I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet
(Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe,
And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt,
And his great person perish
    Pro. Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke:
What is the time o'th' day?
    Ar. Past the mid season
    Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now
Must by vs both be spent most preciously
    Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me
    Pro. How now? moodie?
What is't thou canst demand?
   Ar. My Libertie
   Pro. Before the time be out? no more:
  Ar. I prethee,
Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice,
Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise
To bate me a full yeere
   Pro. Do'st thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?
   Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze
Of the salt deepe;
To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North,
To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth
When it is bak'd with frost
   Ar. I doe not Sir
   Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot
The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy
Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
   Ar. No Sir
   Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
   Ar. Sir, in Argier
   Pro. Oh, was she so: I must
Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin,
Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax
For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter humane hearing, from Argier
Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did
They wold not take her life: Is not this true?
   Ar. I, Sir
   Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child,
And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue,
As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant,
And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate
To act her earthy, and abhord commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee
By helpe of her more potent Ministers,
And in her most vnmittigable rage,
Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift
Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine
A dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd,
And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes
As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island
(Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere,
A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with
A humane shape
   Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne
   Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban
Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st
What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones
Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts
Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment
To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art,
When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The Pyne, and let thee out
   Ar. I thanke thee Master
   Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake
And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till
Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters
   Ar. Pardon, Master,
I will be correspondent to command
And doe my spryting, gently
   Pro. Doe so: and after two daies
I will discharge thee
   Ar. That's my noble Master:
What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
  Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea,
Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible
To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape
And hither come in't: goe: hence
With diligence.
  Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well,
   Mir. The strangenes of your story, put
Heauinesse in me
   Pro. Shake it off: Come on,
Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer
Yeelds vs kinde answere
   Mir. 'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on
   Pro. But as 'tis
We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices
That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban:
Thou Earth, thou: speake
   Cal. within. There's wood enough within
   Pro. Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee:
Come thou Tortoys, when?
Enter Ariel like a water Nymph.
Fine apparision: my queint Ariel,
Hearke in thine eare
   Ar. My Lord, it shall be done.
  Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by y diuell himselfe
Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth.
Enter Caliban.
  Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd
With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen
Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee,
And blister you all ore
   Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps,
Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins
Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd
As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging
Then Bees that made 'em
   Cal. I must eat my dinner:
This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first
Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me
Water with berries in't: and teach me how
To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse
That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee
And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle,
The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill,
Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes
Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you:
For I am all the Subiects that you haue,
Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me
In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me
The rest o'th' Island
   Pro. Thou most lying slaue,
Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs'd thee
(Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee
In mine owne Cell, till thou didst seeke to violate
The honor of my childe
   Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would't had bene done:
Thou didst preuent me, I had peopel'd else
This Isle with Calibans
   Mira. Abhorred Slaue,
Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill: I pittied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre
One thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage)
Know thine owne meaning; but wouldst gabble, like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race
(Tho thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deseruedly confin'd into this Rocke, who hadst
Deseru'd more then a prison
   Cal. You taught me Language, and my profit on't
Is, I know how to curse: the red-plague rid you
For learning me your language
   Pros. Hag-seed, hence:
Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best
To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice)
If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly
What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes,
Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore,
That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn
   Cal. No, 'pray thee.
I must obey, his Art is of such pow'r,
It would controll my Dams god Setebos,
And make a vassaile of him
   Pro. So slaue, hence.
Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.
  Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then
Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist:
Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare
the burthen.
Burthen dispersedly.
Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke,
   Ar. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere
cry cockadidle-dowe
   Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth?
It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon
Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke,
Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke.
This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my passion
With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it
(Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone.
No, it begins againe
   Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies,
Of his bones are Corrall made:
Those are pearles that were his eies,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a Sea-change
Into something rich, & strange:
Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.
Burthen: ding dong.
Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell
   Fer. The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father,
This is no mortall busines, nor no sound
That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me
   Pro. The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance,
And say what thou see'st yond
   Mira. What is't a Spirit?
Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir,
It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit
   Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses
As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest
Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd
With greefe (that's beauties canker) y might'st call him
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes,
And strayes about to finde 'em
   Mir. I might call him
A thing diuine, for nothing naturall
I euer saw so Noble
   Pro. It goes on I see
As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee
Within two dayes for this
   Fer. Most sure the Goddesse
On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r
May know if you remaine vpon this Island,
And that you will some good instruction giue
How I may beare me heere: my prime request
(Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder)
If you be Mayd, or no?
  Mir. No wonder Sir,
But certainly a Mayd
   Fer. My Language? Heauens:
I am the best of them that speake this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken
   Pro. How? the best?
What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee?
  Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To heare thee speake of Naples: he do's heare me,
And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am Naples,
Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld
The King my Father wrack't
   Mir. Alacke, for mercy
   Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine
And his braue sonne, being twaine
   Pro. The Duke of Millaine
And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee
If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight
They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel,
Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir,
I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word
   Mir. Why speakes my father so vngently? This
Is the third man that ere I saw: the first
That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father
To be enclin'd my way
   Fer. O, if a Virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you
The Queene of Naples
   Pro. Soft sir, one word more.
They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines
I must vneasie make, least too light winning
Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee
That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe
The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe
Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it
From me, the Lord on't
   Fer. No, as I am a man
   Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple,
If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house,
Good things will striue to dwell with't
   Pro. Follow me
   Pros. Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come,
Ile manacle thy necke and feete together:
Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be
The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes
Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.
He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.
  Mira. O deere Father,
Make not too rash a triall of him, for
Hee's gentle, and not fearfull
   Pros. What I say,
My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor,
Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience
Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward,
For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke,
And make thy weapon drop
   Mira. Beseech you Father
   Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments
   Mira. Sir haue pity,
Ile be his surety
   Pros. Silence: One word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What,
An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush:
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
(Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench,
To th' most of men, this is a Caliban,
And they to him are Angels
   Mira. My affections
Are then most humble: I haue no ambition
To see a goodlier man
   Pros. Come on, obey:
Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe.
And haue no vigour in them
   Fer. So they are:
My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp:
My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele,
The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats,
To whom I am subdude, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth
Let liberty make vse of: space enough
Haue I in such a prison
   Pros. It workes: Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me,
Harke what thou else shalt do mee
   Mira. Be of comfort,
My Fathers of a better nature (Sir)
Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted
Which now came from him
   Pros. Thou shalt be as free
As mountaine windes; but then exactly do
All points of my command
   Ariell. To th' syllable
   Pros. Come follow: speake not for him.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco,
  Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause,
(So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape
Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe
Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife,
The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant
Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle,
(I meane our preseruation) few in millions
Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh
Our sorrow, with our comfort
   Alons. Prethee peace
   Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge
   Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so
   Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit,
By and by it will strike
   Seb. One: Tell
   Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind,
That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer
   Seb. A dollor
   Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken
truer then you purpos'd
   Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you
   Gon. Therefore my Lord
   Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue
   Alon. I pre-thee spare
   Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet
   Seb. He will be talking
   Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager,
First begins to crow?
 Seb. The old Cocke
   Ant. The Cockrell
   Seb. Done: The wager?
   Ant. A Laughter
   Seb. A match
   Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert
   Seb. Ha, ha, ha
   Ant. So: you'r paid
   Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible
  Ant. He could not misse't
   Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate
   Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench
   Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd
   Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly
   Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones
   Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen
   Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life
   Ant. True, saue meanes to liue
   Seb. Of that there's none, or little
   Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes?
  Ant. The ground indeed is tawny
   Seb. With an eye of greene in't
   Ant. He misses not much
   Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally
   Gon. But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost
beyond credit
   Seb. As many voucht rarieties are
   Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht
in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and
glosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with salte
   Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would
it not say he lyes?
  Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report
   Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as
when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage
of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis
   Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in
   Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragon
to their Queene
   Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time
   Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Widdow
in? Widdow Dido!
  Seb. What if he had said Widdower aeneas too?
Good Lord, how you take it?
  Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study
of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis
   Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage
   Adri. Carthage?
   Gon. I assure you Carthage
   Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe
   Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too
   Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next?
  Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his
pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple
   Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring
forth more Islands
   Ant. Why in good time
   Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme
now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
of your daughter, who is now Queene
   Ant. And the rarest that ere came there
   Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido
   Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido
   Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I
wore it? I meane in a sort
   Ant. That sort was well fish'd for
   Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage
   Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against
the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer
Married my daughter there: For comming thence
My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too,
Who is so farre from Italy remoued,
I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire
Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish
Hath made his meale on thee?
  Fran. Sir he may liue,
I saw him beate the surges vnder him,
And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water
Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested
The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head
'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared
Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke
To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed
As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt
He came aliue to Land
   Alon. No, no, hee's gone
   Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse,
That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter,
But rather loose her to an Affrican,
Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't
   Alon. Pre-thee peace
   Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise
By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe
Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at
Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your son,
I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue
Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making,
Then we bring men to comfort them:
The faults your owne
   Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse
   Gon. My Lord Sebastian,
The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse,
And time to speake it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaister
   Seb. Very well
   Ant. And most Chirurgeonly
   Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir,
When you are cloudy
   Seb. Fowle weather?
  Ant. Very foule
   Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord
   Ant. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed
   Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes
   Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do?
  Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine
   Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries)
Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke
Would I admit: No name of Magistrate:
Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty,
And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession,
Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:
No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle:
No occupation, all men idle, all:
And Women too, but innocent and pure:
No Soueraignty
   Seb. Yet he would be King on't
   Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets
the beginning
   Gon. All things in common Nature should produce
Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony,
Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine
Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth
Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance
To feed my innocent people
   Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects?
  Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
  Gon. I would with such perfection gouerne Sir:
T' Excell the Golden Age
   Seb. 'Saue his Maiesty
   Ant. Long liue Gonzalo
   Gon. And do you marke me, Sir?
  Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me
   Gon. I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did it
to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of
such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse
to laugh at nothing
   Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at
   Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing
to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still
   Ant. What a blow was there giuen?
  Seb. And it had not falne flat-long
   Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would
lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue
in it fiue weekes without changing.
Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.
  Seb. We would so, and then go a Bat-fowling
   Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry
   Gon. No I warrant you, I will not aduenture my
discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I
am very heauy
   Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs
   Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes
Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts,
I finde they are inclin'd to do so
   Seb. Please you Sir,
Do not omit the heauy offer of it:
It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter
   Ant. We two my Lord, will guard your person,
While you take your rest, and watch your safety
   Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy
   Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them?
  Ant. It is the quality o'th' Clymate
Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde
Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep
   Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:
They fell together all, as by consent
They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might
Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more:
And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination see's a Crowne
Dropping vpon thy head
   Seb. What? art thou waking?
  Ant. Do you not heare me speake?
  Seb. I do, and surely
It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleepe
With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing:
And yet so fast asleepe
   Ant. Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st
Whiles thou art waking
   Seb. Thou do'st snore distinctly,
There's meaning in thy snores
   Ant. I am more serious then my custome: you
Must be so too, if heed me: which to do,
Trebbles thee o're
   Seb. Well: I am standing water
   Ant. Ile teach you how to flow
   Seb. Do so: to ebbe
Hereditary Sloth instructs me
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it
You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed
(Most often) do so neere the bottome run
By their owne feare, or sloth
   Seb. 'Pre-thee say on,
The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throwes thee much to yeeld
   Ant. Thus Sir:
Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded
(For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely
Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue,
'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd,
As he that sleepes heere, swims
   Seb. I haue no hope
That hee's vndrown'd
   Ant. O, out of that no hope,
What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is
Another way so high a hope, that euen
Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond
But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd
   Seb. He's gone
   Ant. Then tell me, who's the next heire of Naples?
   Seb. Claribell
   Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwels
Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from Naples
Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post:
The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes
Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe,
(And by that destiny) to performe an act
Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come
In yours, and my discharge
   Seb. What stuffe is this? How say you?
'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis,
So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which Regions
There is some space
   Ant. A space, whose eu'ry cubit
Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell
Measure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse
Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate
As amply, and vnnecessarily
As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make
A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore
The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this
For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?
   Seb. Me thinkes I do
   Ant. And how do's your content
Tender your owne good fortune?
  Seb. I remember
You did supplant your Brother Prospero
   Ant. True:
And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me,
Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants
Were then my fellowes, now they are my men
   Seb. But for your conscience
   Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe
'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not
This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences
That stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they,
And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother,
No better then the earth he lies vpon,
If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead)
Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it)
Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus,
To the perpetuall winke for aye might put
This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who
Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest
They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke,
They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that
We say befits the houre
   Seb. Thy case, deere Friend
Shall be my president: As thou got'st Millaine,
I'le come by Naples: Draw thy sword, one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest,
And I the King shall loue thee
   Ant. Draw together:
And when I reare my hand, do you the like
To fall it on Gonzalo
   Seb. O, but one word.
Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.
  Ariel. My Master through his Art foresees the danger
That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth
(For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.
Sings in Gonzaloes eare.
While you here do snoaring lie,
Open-ey'd Conspiracie
His time doth take:
If of Life you keepe a care,
Shake off slumber and beware.
Awake, awake
   Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine
   Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King
   Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
  Gon. What's the matter?
  Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
(Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you?
It strooke mine eare most terribly
   Alo. I heard nothing
   Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare;
To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare
Of a whole heard of Lyons
   Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo?
  Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming,
(And that a strange one too) which did awake me:
I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend,
I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse,
That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard;
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons
   Alo. Lead off this ground & let's make further search
For my poore sonne
   Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts:
For he is sure i'th Island
   Alo. Lead away
   Ariell. Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue done.
So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.)
  Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp
From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me,
And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire,
Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke
Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but
For euery trifle, are they set vpon me,
Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me,
And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which
Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I
All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues
Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,
Enter  Trinculo.
Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat,
Perchance he will not minde me
   Tri. Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any
weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it
sing ith' winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge
one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his
licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know
not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot
choose but fall by pailefuls. What haue we here, a man,
or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a
very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the
newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in England
now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not
a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer:
there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange
beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a
doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see
a dead Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like
Armes: warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my opinion;
hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islander,
that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas,
the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vnder
his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter hereabout:
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellowes:
I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme
Enter Stephano singing..
  Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore.
This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans
Funerall: well, here's my comfort.
The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I;
The Gunner, and his Mate
Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie,
But none of vs car'd for Kate.
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a Sailor goe hang:
She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch,
Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch.
Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang.
This is a scuruy tune too:
But here's my comfort.
  Cal. Doe not torment me: oh
   Ste. What's the matter?
Haue we diuels here?
Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of
Inde? ha? I haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard
now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as proper
a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him
giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while Stephano
breathes at' nostrils
   Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh
   Ste. This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs;
who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell
should he learne our language? I will giue him some reliefe
if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe
him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a Present
for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-leather
   Cal. Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my
wood home faster
   Ste. He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the
wisest; hee shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer
drunke wine afore, it will goe neere to remoue his Fit:
if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, I will not take
too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him,
and that soundly
   Cal. Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon,
I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper workes
   Ste. Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here
is that which will giue language to you Cat; open your
mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and
that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open
your chaps againe
   Tri. I should know that voyce:
It should be,
But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O defend
   Ste. Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate
Monster: his forward voyce now is to speake well of
his friend; his backward voice, is to vtter foule speeches,
and to detract: if all the wine in my bottle will recouer
him, I will helpe his Ague: Come: Amen, I will
poure some in thy other mouth
   Tri. Stephano
   Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy:
This is a diuell, and no Monster: I will leaue him, I
haue no long Spoone
   Tri. Stephano: if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and
speake to me: for I am Trinculo; be not afeard, thy
good friend Trinculo
   Ste. If thou bee'st Trinculo: come forth: I'le pull
thee by the lesser legges: if any be Trinculo's legges,
these are they: Thou art very Trinculo indeede: how
cam'st thou to be the siege of this Moone-calfe? Can
he vent Trinculo's?
  Tri. I tooke him to be kil'd with a thunder-strok; but
art thou not dround Stephano: I hope now thou art
not dround: Is the Storme ouer-blowne? I hid mee
vnder the dead Moone-Calfes Gaberdine, for feare of
the Storme: And art thou liuing Stephano? O Stephano,
two Neapolitanes scap'd?
  Ste. 'Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke
is not constant
   Cal. These be fine things, and if they be not sprights:
that's a braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will
kneele to him
   Ste. How did'st thou scape?
How cam'st thou hither?
Sweare by this Bottle how thou cam'st hither: I escap'd
vpon a But of Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o'reboord,
by this Bottle which I made of the barke of
a Tree, with mine owne hands, since I was cast a'shore
   Cal. I'le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true subiect,
for the liquor is not earthly
   St. Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst
   Tri. Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim
like a Ducke i'le be sworne
   Ste. Here, kisse the Booke.
Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made
like a Goose
   Tri. O Stephano, ha'st any more of this?
  Ste. The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rocke
by th' sea-side, where my Wine is hid:
How now Moone-Calfe, how do's thine Ague?
  Cal. Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen?
  Ste. Out o'th Moone I doe assure thee. I was the
Man ith' Moone, when time was
   Cal. I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee:
My Mistris shew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush
   Ste. Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will
furnish it anon with new Contents: Sweare
   Tri. By this good light, this is a very shallow Monster:
I afeard of him? a very weake Monster:
The Man ith' Moone?
A most poore creadulous Monster:
Well drawne Monster, in good sooth
   Cal. Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch o'th Island: and
I will kisse thy foote: I prethee be my god
   Tri. By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken
Monster, when's god's a sleepe he'll rob his Bottle
   Cal. Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect
   Ste. Come on then: downe and sweare
   Tri. I shall laugh my selfe to death at this puppi-headed
Monster: a most scuruie Monster: I could finde in
my heart to beate him
   Ste. Come, kisse
   Tri. But that the poore Monster's in drinke:
An abhominable Monster
   Cal. I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee
Berries: I'le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough.
A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue;
I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou
wondrous man
   Tri. A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of
a poore drunkard
   Cal. I 'prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow;
and I with my long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts;
show thee a Iayes nest, and instruct thee how to snare
the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring thee to clustring
Philbirts, and sometimes I'le get thee young Scamels
from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me?
  Ste. I pre'thee now lead the way without any more
talking. Trinculo, the King, and all our company else
being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my
Bottle: Fellow Trinculo; we'll fill him by and by againe.
Caliban Sings drunkenly.
Farewell Master; farewell, farewell
   Tri. A howling Monster: a drunken Monster
   Cal. No more dams I'le make for fish,
Nor fetch in firing, at requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish,
Ban' ban' Cacalyban
Has a new Master, get a new Man.
Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome highday,
   Ste. O braue Monster; lead the way.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)
  Fer. There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor
Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse
Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters
Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske
Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but
The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is
Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed;
And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue
Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp,
Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris
Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes
Had neuer like Executor: I forget:
But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours,
Most busie lest, when I doe it.
Enter Miranda | and Prospero.
  Mir. Alas, now pray you
Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt vp those Logs that you are enioynd to pile:
Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this burnes
'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father
Is hard at study; pray now rest your selfe,
Hee's safe for these three houres
   Fer. O most deere Mistris
The Sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must striue to do
   Mir. If you'l sit downe
Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that,
Ile carry it to the pile
   Fer. No precious Creature,
I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe,
Then you should such dishonor vndergoe,
While I sit lazy by
   Mir. It would become me
As well as it do's you; and I should do it
With much more ease: for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against
   Pro. Poore worme thou art infected,
This visitation shewes it
   Mir. You looke wearily
   Fer. No, noble Mistris, 'tis fresh morning with me
When you are by at night: I do beseech you
Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers,
What is your name?
  Mir. Miranda, O my Father,
I haue broke your hest to say so
   Fer. Admir'd Miranda,
Indeede the top of Admiration, worth
What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady
I haue ey'd with best regard, and many a time
Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues
Haue I lik'd seuerall women, neuer any
With so full soule, but some defect in her
Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow'd,
And put it to the foile. But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created
Of euerie Creatures best
   Mir. I do not know
One of my sexe; no womans face remember,
Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene
More that I may call men, then you good friend,
And my deere Father: how features are abroad
I am skillesse of; but by my modestie
(The iewell in my dower) I would not wish
Any Companion in the world but you:
Nor can imagination forme a shape
Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle
Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts
I therein do forget
   Fer. I am, in my condition
A Prince (Miranda) I do thinke a King
(I would not so) and would no more endure
This wodden slauerie, then to suffer
The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake.
The verie instant that I saw you, did
My heart flie to your seruice, there resides
To make me slaue to it, and for your sake
Am I this patient Logge-man
   Mir. Do you loue me?
  Fer. O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound,
And crowne what I professe with kinde euent
If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert
What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I,
Beyond all limit of what else i'th world
Do loue, prize, honor you
   Mir. I am a foole
To weepe at what I am glad of
   Pro. Faire encounter
Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace
On that which breeds betweene 'em
   Fer. Wherefore weepe you?
  Mir. At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer
What I desire to giue; and much lesse take
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling,
And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe,
The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning,
And prompt me plaine and holy innocence.
I am your wife, if you will marrie me;
If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow
You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant
Whether you will or no
   Fer. My Mistris (deerest)
And I thus humble euer
   Mir. My husband then?
  Fer. I, with a heart as willing
As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand
   Mir. And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewel
Till halfe an houre hence
   Fer. A thousand, thousand.
  Pro. So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surpriz'd with all; but my reioycing
At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke,
For yet ere supper time, must I performe
Much businesse appertaining.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
  Ste. Tell not me, when the But is out we will drinke
water, not a drop before; therefore beare vp, & boord
em' Seruant Monster, drinke to me
   Trin. Seruant Monster? the folly of this Iland, they
say there's but fiue vpon this Isle; we are three of them,
if th' other two be brain'd like vs, the State totters
   Ste. Drinke seruant Monster when I bid thee, thy
eies are almost set in thy head
   Trin. Where should they bee set else? hee were a
braue Monster indeede if they were set in his taile
   Ste. My man-Monster hath drown'd his tongue in
sacke: for my part the Sea cannot drowne mee, I swam
ere I could recouer the shore, fiue and thirtie Leagues
off and on, by this light thou shalt bee my Lieutenant
Monster, or my Standard
   Trin. Your Lieutenant if you list, hee's no standard
   Ste. Weel not run Monsieur Monster
   Trin. Nor go neither: but you'l lie like dogs, and yet
say nothing neither
   Ste. Moone-calfe, speak once in thy life, if thou beest
a good Moone-calfe
   Cal. How does thy honour? Let me licke thy shooe:
Ile not serue him, he is not valiant
   Trin. Thou liest most ignorant Monster, I am in case
to iustle a Constable: why, thou debosh'd Fish thou,
was there euer man a Coward, that hath drunk so much
Sacke as I to day? wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being
but halfe a Fish, and halfe a Monster?
  Cal. Loe, how he mockes me, wilt thou let him my
  Trin. Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such
  Cal. Loe, loe againe: bite him to death I prethee
   Ste. Trinculo, keepe a good tongue in your head: If
you proue a mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Monster's
my subiect, and he shall not suffer indignity
   Cal. I thanke my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd
to hearken once againe to the suite I made to thee?
  Ste. Marry will I: kneele, and repeate it,
I will stand, and so shall Trinculo.
Enter Ariell inuisible.
  Cal. As I told thee before, I am subiect to a Tirant,
A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me
Of the Island
   Ariell. Thou lyest
   Cal. Thou lyest, thou iesting Monkey thou:
I would my valiant Master would destroy thee.
I do not lye
   Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale,
By this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth
   Trin. Why, I said nothing
   Ste. Mum then, and no more: proceed
   Cal. I say by Sorcery he got this Isle
From me, he got it. If thy Greatnesse will
Reuenge it on him, (for I know thou dar'st)
But this Thing dare not
   Ste. That's most certaine
   Cal. Thou shalt be Lord of it, and Ile serue thee
   Ste. How now shall this be compast?
Canst thou bring me to the party?
  Cal. Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe,
Where thou maist knocke a naile into his head
   Ariell. Thou liest, thou canst not
   Cal. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scuruy patch:
I do beseech thy Greatnesse giue him blowes,
And take his bottle from him: When that's gone,
He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him
Where the quicke Freshes are
   Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger:
Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this
hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and make a
Stockfish of thee
   Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing:
Ile go farther off
   Ste. Didst thou not say he lyed?
  Ariell. Thou liest
   Ste. Do I so? Take thou that,
As you like this, giue me the lye another time
   Trin. I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and
hearing too?
A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo:
A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your
   Cal. Ha, ha, ha
   Ste. Now forward with your Tale: prethee stand
   Cal. Beate him enough: after a little time
Ile beate him too
   Ste. Stand farther: Come proceede
   Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custome with him
I'th afternoone to sleepe: there thou maist braine him,
Hauing first seiz'd his bookes: Or with a logge
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
First to possesse his Bookes; for without them
Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not
One Spirit to command: they all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes,
He ha's braue Vtensils (for so he calles them)
Which when he ha's a house, hee'l decke withall.
And that most deeply to consider, is
The beautie of his daughter: he himselfe
Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer saw a woman
But onely Sycorax my Dam, and she;
But she as farre surpasseth Sycorax,
As great'st do's least
   Ste. Is it so braue a Lasse?
  Cal. I Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant,
And bring thee forth braue brood
   Ste. Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and
I will be King and Queene, saue our Graces: and Trinculo
and thy selfe shall be Viceroyes:
Dost thou like the plot Trinculo?
  Trin. Excellent
   Ste. Giue me thy hand, I am sorry I beate thee:
But while thou liu'st keepe a good tongue in thy head
   Cal. Within this halfe houre will he be asleepe,
Wilt thou destroy him then?
  Ste. I on mine honour
   Ariell. This will I tell my Master
   Cal. Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure,
Let vs be iocond. Will you troule the Catch
You taught me but whileare?
  Ste. At thy request Monster, I will do reason,
Any reason: Come on Trinculo, let vs sing.
Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em,
Thought is free
   Cal. That's not the tune.
Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.
  Ste. What is this same?
  Trin. This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the picture
   Ste. If thou beest a man, shew thy selfe in thy likenes:
If thou beest a diuell, take't as thou list
   Trin. O forgiue me my sinnes
   Ste. He that dies payes all debts: I defie thee;
Mercy vpon vs
   Cal. Art thou affeard?
  Ste. No Monster, not I
   Cal. Be not affeard, the Isle is full of noyses,
Sounds, and sweet aires, that giue delight and hurt not:
Sometimes a thousand twangling Instruments
Will hum about mine eares; and sometime voices,
That if I then had wak'd after long sleepe,
Will make me sleepe againe, and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and shew riches
Ready to drop vpon me, that when I wak'd
I cri'de to dreame againe
   Ste. This will proue a braue kingdome to me,
Where I shall haue my Musicke for nothing
   Cal. When Prospero is destroy'd
   Ste. That shall be by and by:
I remember the storie
   Trin. The sound is going away,
Lets follow it, and after do our worke
   Ste. Leade Monster,
Wee'l follow: I would I could see this Taborer,
He layes it on
   Trin. Wilt come?
Ile follow Stephano.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzallo, Adrian, Francisco,
  Gon. By'r lakin, I can goe no further, Sir,
My old bones akes: here's a maze trod indeede
Through fourth-rights, & Meanders: by your patience,
I needes must rest me
   Al. Old Lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who, am my selfe attach'd with wearinesse
To th' dulling of my spirits: Sit downe, and rest:
Euen here I will put off my hope, and keepe it
No longer for my Flatterer: he is droun'd
Whom thus we stray to finde, and the Sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land: well, let him goe
   Ant. I am right glad, that he's so out of hope:
Doe not for one repulse forgoe the purpose
That you resolu'd t' effect
   Seb. The next aduantage will we take throughly
   Ant. Let it be to night,
For now they are oppress'd with trauaile, they
Will not, nor cannot vse such vigilance
As when they are fresh.
Solemne and strange Musicke: and Prosper on the top (inuisible:)
Enter seuerall strange shapes, bringing in a Banket; and dance
about it with
gentle actions of salutations, and inuiting the King, &c. to eate,
  Seb. I say to night: no more
   Al. What harmony is this? my good friends, harke
   Gon. Maruellous sweet Musicke
   Alo. Giue vs kind keepers, heaue[n]s: what were these?
  Seb. A liuing Drolerie: now I will beleeue
That there are Vnicornes: that in Arabia
There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix
At this houre reigning there
   Ant. Ile beleeue both:
And what do's else want credit, come to me
And Ile besworne 'tis true: Trauellers nere did lye,
Though fooles at home condemne 'em
   Gon. If in Naples
I should report this now, would they beleeue me?
If I should say I saw such Islands;
(For certes, these are people of the Island)
Who though they are of monstrous shape, yet note
Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of
Our humaine generation you shall finde
Many, nay almost any
   Pro. Honest Lord,
Thou hast said well: for some of you there present;
Are worse then diuels
   Al. I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing
(Although they want the vse of tongue) a kinde
Of excellent dumbe discourse
   Pro. Praise in departing
   Fr. They vanish'd strangely
   Seb. No matter, since
They haue left their Viands behinde; for wee haue stomacks.
Wilt please you taste of what is here?
  Alo. Not I
   Gon. Faith Sir, you neede not feare: when wee were Boyes
Who would beleeue that there were Mountayneeres,
Dew-lapt, like Buls, whose throats had hanging at 'em
Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their brests? which now we finde
Each putter out of fiue for one, will bring vs
Good warrant of
   Al. I will stand to, and feede,
Although my last, no matter, since I feele
The best is past: brother: my Lord, the Duke,
Stand too, and doe as we.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpey) claps his
the Table, and with a quient deuice the Banquet vanishes.
  Ar. You are three men of sinne, whom destiny
That hath to instrument this lower world,
And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea,
Hath caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island,
Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men,
Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad;
And euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne
Their proper selues: you fooles, I and my fellowes
Are ministers of Fate, the Elements
Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud windes, or with bemockt-at-Stabs
Kill the still closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers
Are like-invulnerable: if you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massie for your strengths,
And will not be vplifted: But remember
(For that's my businesse to you) that you three
From Millaine did supplant good Prospero,
Expos'd vnto the Sea (which hath requit it)
Him, and his innocent childe: for which foule deed,
The Powres, delaying (not forgetting) haue
Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all the Creatures
Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne, Alonso
They haue bereft; and doe pronounce by me
Lingring perdition (worse then any death
Can be at once) shall step, by step attend
You, and your wayes, whose wraths to guard you from,
Which here, in this most desolate Isle, else fals
Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-sorrow,
And a cleere life ensuing.
He vanishes in Thunder: then (to soft Musicke.) Enter the shapes
and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table.
  Pro. Brauely the figure of this Harpie, hast thou
Perform'd (my Ariell) a grace it had deuouring:
Of my Instruction, hast thou nothing bated
In what thou had'st to say: so with good life,
And obseruation strange, my meaner ministers
Their seuerall kindes haue done: my high charmes work,
And these (mine enemies) are all knit vp
In their distractions: they now are in my powre;
And in these fits, I leaue them, while I visit
Yong Ferdinand (whom they suppose is droun'd)
And his, and mine lou'd darling
   Gon. I'th name of something holy, Sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?
  Al. O, it is monstrous: monstrous:
Me thought the billowes spoke, and told me of it,
The windes did sing it to me: and the Thunder
(That deepe and dreadfull Organ-Pipe) pronounc'd
The name of Prosper: it did base my Trespasse,
Therefore my Sonne i'th Ooze is bedded; and
I'le seeke him deeper then ere plummet sounded,
And with him there lye mudded.
  Seb. But one feend at a time,
Ile fight their Legions ore
   Ant. Ile be thy Second.
  Gon. All three of them are desperate: their great guilt
(Like poyson giuen to worke a great time after)
Now gins to bite the spirits: I doe beseech you
(That are of suppler ioynts) follow them swiftly,
And hinder them from what this extasie
May now prouoke them to
   Ad. Follow, I pray you.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.
  Pro. If I haue too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends, for I
Haue giuen you here, a third of mine owne life,
Or that for which I liue: who, once againe
I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy loue, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore heauen
I ratifie this my rich guift: O Ferdinand,
Doe not smile at me, that I boast her of,
For thou shalt finde she will out-strip all praise
And make it halt, behinde her
   Fer. I doe beleeue it
Against an Oracle
   Pro. Then, as my guest, and thine owne acquisition
Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: But
If thou do'st breake her Virgin-knot, before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy right, be ministred,
No sweet aspersion shall the heauens let fall
To make this contract grow; but barraine hate,
Sower-ey'd disdaine, and discord shall bestrew
The vnion of your bed, with weedes so loathly
That you shall hate it both: Therefore take heede,
As Hymens Lamps shall light you
   Fer. As I hope
For quiet dayes, faire Issue, and long life,
With such loue, as 'tis now the murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strongst suggestion,
Our worser Genius can, shall neuer melt
Mine honor into lust, to take away
The edge of that dayes celebration,
When I shall thinke, or Phoebus Steeds are founderd,
Or Night kept chain'd below
   Pro. Fairely spoke;
Sit then, and talke with her, she is thine owne;
What Ariell; my industrious serua[n]t Ariell.
Enter Ariell.
  Ar. What would my potent master? here I am
   Pro. Thou, and thy meaner fellowes, your last seruice
Did worthily performe: and I must vse you
In such another tricke: goe bring the rabble
(Ore whom I giue thee powre) here, to this place:
Incite them to quicke motion, for I must
Bestow vpon the eyes of this yong couple
Some vanity of mine Art: it is my promise,
And they expect it from me
   Ar. Presently?
  Pro. I: with a twincke
   Ar. Before you can say come, and goe,
And breathe twice; and cry, so, so:
Each one tripping on his Toe,
Will be here with mop, and mowe.
Doe you loue me Master? no?
  Pro. Dearely, my delicate Ariell: doe not approach
Till thou do'st heare me call
   Ar. Well: I conceiue.
  Pro. Looke thou be true: doe not giue dalliance
Too much the raigne: the strongest oathes, are straw
To th' fire ith' blood: be more abstenious,
Or else good night your vow
   Fer. I warrant you, Sir,
The white cold virgin Snow, vpon my heart
Abates the ardour of my Liuer
   Pro. Well.
Now come my Ariell, bring a Corolary,
Rather then want a Spirit; appear, & pertly.
Soft musick.
No tongue: all eyes: be silent.
  Ir. Ceres, most bounteous Lady, thy rich Leas
Of Wheate, Rye, Barley, Fetches, Oates and Pease;
Thy Turphie-Mountaines, where liue nibling Sheepe,
And flat Medes thetchd with Stouer, them to keepe:
Thy bankes with pioned, and twilled brims
Which spungie Aprill, at thy hest betrims;
To make cold Nymphes chast crownes; & thy broomegroues;
Whose shadow the dismissed Batchelor loues,
Being lasse-lorne: thy pole-clipt vineyard,
And thy Sea-marge stirrile, and rockey-hard,
Where thou thy selfe do'st ayre, the Queene o'th Skie,
Whose watry Arch, and messenger, am I.
Bids thee leaue these, & with her soueraigne grace,
Iuno  descends.
Here on this grasse-plot, in this very place
To come, and sport: here Peacocks flye amaine:
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertaine.
Enter Ceres.
  Cer. Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere
Do'st disobey the wife of Iupiter:
Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres
Diffusest hony drops, refreshing showres,
And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne
My boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe,
Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene
Summond me hither, to this short gras'd Greene?
  Ir. A contract of true Loue, to celebrate,
And some donation freely to estate
On the bles'd Louers
   Cer. Tell me heauenly Bowe,
If Venus or her Sonne, as thou do'st know,
Doe now attend the Queene? since they did plot
The meanes, that duskie Dis, my daughter got,
Her, and her blind-Boyes scandald company,
I haue forsworne
   Ir. Of her societie
Be not afraid: I met her deitie
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos: and her Son
Doue-drawn with her: here thought they to haue done
Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and Maide,
Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymens Torch be lighted: but in vaine,
Marses hot Minion is returnd againe,
Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes,
Swears he will shoote no more, but play with Sparrows,
And be a Boy right out
   Cer. Highest Queene of State,
Great Iuno comes, I know her by her gate
  Iu. How do's my bounteous sister? goe with me
To blesse this twaine, that they may prosperous be,
And honourd in their Issue.
  Iu. Honor, riches, marriage, blessing,
Long continuance, and encreasing,
Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you,
Iuno sings her blessings on you.
Earths increase, foyzon plentie,
Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty.
Vines, with clustring bunches growing,
Plants, with goodly burthen bowing:
Spring come to you at the farthest,
In the very end of Haruest.
Scarcity and want shall shun you,
Ceres blessing so is on you
   Fer. This is a most maiesticke vision, and
Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold
To thinke these spirits?
  Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art
I haue from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies
   Fer. Let me liue here euer,
So rare a wondred Father, and a wise
Makes this place Paradise
   Pro. Sweet now, silence:
Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously,
There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute
Or else our spell is mar'd.
Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.
  Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of y windring brooks,
With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes,
Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land
Answere your summons, Iuno do's command.
Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate
A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.
Enter Certaine Nimphes.
You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary,
Come hether from the furrow, and be merry,
Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery one
In Country footing.
Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the
in a gracefull dance, towards the end whereof, Prospero starts
and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse,
heauily vanish.
  Pro. I had forgot that foule conspiracy
Of the beast Calliban, and his confederates
Against my life: the minute of their plot
Is almost come: Well done, auoid: no more
   Fer. This is strange: your fathers in some passion
That workes him strongly
   Mir. Neuer till this day
Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd
   Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort,
As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir,
Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors,
(As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and
Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre,
And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision
The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces,
The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue,
And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded
Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe
As dreames are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext,
Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled:
Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie,
If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell,
And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke
To still my beating minde
   Fer. Mir. We wish your peace.
  Pro. Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come.
Enter Ariell.
  Ar. Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?
  Pro. Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban
   Ar. I my Commander, when I presented Ceres
I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd
Least I might anger thee
   Pro. Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?
  Ar. I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking,
So full of valour, that they smote the ayre
For breathing in their faces: beate the ground
For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending
Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor,
At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares,
Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses
As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares
That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through
Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns,
Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them
I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell,
There dancing vp to th' chins, that the fowle Lake
Ore-stunck their feet
   Pro. This was well done (my bird)
Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still:
The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither
For stale to catch these theeues
   Ar. I go, I goe.
  Pro. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature
Nurture can neuer sticke: on whom my paines
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost,
And, as with age, his body ouglier growes,
So his minde cankers: I will plague them all,
Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.
Enter Ariell, loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter Caliban,
Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.
  Cal. Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may
not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell
   St. Monster, your Fairy, w you say is a harmles Fairy,
Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs
   Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which
My nose is in great indignation
   Ste. So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should
Take a displeasure against you: Looke you
   Trin. Thou wert but a lost Monster
   Cal. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil,
Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too
Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly,
All's husht as midnight yet
   Trin. I, but to loose our bottles in the Poole
   Ste. There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that
Monster, but an infinite losse
   Tr. That's more to me then my wetting:
Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster
   Ste. I will fetch off my bottle,
Though I be o're eares for my labour
   Cal. Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heere
This is the mouth o'th Cell: no noise, and enter:
Do that good mischeefe, which may make this Island
Thine owne for euer, and I thy Caliban
For aye thy foot-licker
   Ste. Giue me thy hand,
I do begin to haue bloody thoughts
   Trin. O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano,
Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee
   Cal. Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash
   Tri. Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a
frippery, O King Stephano
   Ste. Put off that gowne (Trinculo) by this hand Ile
haue that gowne
   Tri. Thy grace shall haue it
   Cal. The dropsie drowne this foole, what doe you meane
To doate thus on such luggage? let's alone
And doe the murther first: if he awake,
From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches,
Make vs strange stuffe
   Ste. Be you quiet (Monster) Mistris line, is not this
my Ierkin? how is the Ierkin vnder the line: now Ierkin
you are like to lose your haire, & proue a bald Ierkin
   Trin. Doe, doe; we steale by lyne and leuell, and't
like your grace
   Ste. I thank thee for that iest; heer's a garment for't:
Wit shall not goe vn-rewarded while I am King of this
Country: Steale by line and leuell, is an excellent passe
of pate: there's another garment for't
   Tri. Monster, come put some Lime vpon your fingers,
and away with the rest
   Cal. I will haue none on't: we shall loose our time,
And all be turn'd to Barnacles, or to Apes
With foreheads villanous low
   Ste. Monster, lay to your fingers: helpe to beare this
away, where my hogshead of wine is, or Ile turne you
out of my kingdome: goe to, carry this
   Tri. And this
   Ste. I, and this.
A noyse of Hunters heard. Enter diuers Spirits in shape of Dogs
Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on.
  Pro. Hey Mountaine, hey
   Ari. Siluer: there it goes, Siluer
   Pro. Fury, Fury: there Tyrant, there: harke, harke.
Goe, charge my Goblins that they grinde their ioynts
With dry Convultions, shorten vp their sinewes
With aged Cramps, & more pinch-spotted make them,
Then Pard, or Cat o' Mountaine
   Ari. Harke, they rore
   Pro. Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt haue the ayre at freedome: for a little
Follow, and doe me seruice.
Actus quintus: Scoena Prima.
Enter Prospero (in his Magicke robes) and Ariel.
  Pro. Now do's my Proiect gather to a head:
My charmes cracke not: my Spirits obey, and Time
Goes vpright with his carriage: how's the day?
  Ar. On the sixt hower, at which time, my Lord
You said our worke should cease
   Pro. I did say so,
When first I rais'd the Tempest: say my Spirit,
How fares the King, and's followers?
  Ar. Confin'd together
In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge,
Iust as you left them; all prisoners Sir
In the Line-groue which weather-fends your Cell,
They cannot boudge till your release: The King,
His Brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning ouer them,
Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly
Him that you term'd Sir, the good old Lord Gonzallo,
His teares runs downe his beard like winters drops
From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender
   Pro. Dost thou thinke so, Spirit?
  Ar. Mine would, Sir, were I humane
   Pro. And mine shall.
Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not my selfe,
One of their kinde, that rellish all as sharpely,
Passion as they, be kindlier mou'd then thou art?
Thogh with their high wrongs I am strook to th' quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, gainst my furie
Doe I take part: the rarer Action is
In vertue, then in vengeance: they, being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frowne further: Goe, release them Ariell,
My Charmes Ile breake, their sences Ile restore,
And they shall be themselues
   Ar. Ile fetch them, Sir.
  Pro. Ye Elues of hils, brooks, sta[n]ding lakes & groues,
And ye, that on the sands with printlesse foote
Doe chase the ebbingNeptune, and doe flie him
When he comes backe: you demy-Puppets, that
By Moone-shine doe the greene sowre Ringlets make,
Whereof the Ewe not bites: and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that reioyce
To heare the solemne Curfewe, by whose ayde
(Weake Masters though ye be) I haue bedymn'd
The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutenous windes,
And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault
Set roaring warre: To the dread ratling Thunder
Haue I giuen fire, and rifted Ioues stowt Oke
With his owne Bolt: The strong bass'd promontorie
Haue I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt vp
The Pyne, and Cedar. Graues at my command
Haue wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth
By my so potent Art. But this rough Magicke
I heere abiure: and when I haue requir'd
Some heauenly Musicke (which euen now I do)
To worke mine end vpon their Sences, that
This Ayrie-charme is for, I'le breake my staffe,
Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth,
And deeper then did euer Plummet sound
Ile drowne my booke.
Solemne musicke.
Heere enters Ariel before: Then Alonso with a franticke gesture,
by Gonzalo. Sebastian and Anthonio in like manner attended by
Francisco: They all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and
stand charm'd: which Prospero obseruing, speakes.
A solemne Ayre, and the best comforter,
To an vnsetled fancie, Cure thy braines
(Now vselesse) boile within thy skull: there stand
For you are Spell-stopt.
Holy Gonzallo, Honourable man,
Mine eyes ev'n sociable to the shew of thine
Fall fellowly drops: The charme dissolues apace,
And as the morning steales vpon the night
(Melting the darkenesse) so their rising sences
Begin to chace the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their cleerer reason. O good Gonzallo
My true preseruer, and a loyall Sir,
To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy graces
Home both in word, and deede: Most cruelly
Did thou Alonso, vse me, and my daughter:
Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act,
Thou art pinch'd for't now Sebastian. Flesh, and bloud,
You, brother mine, that entertaine ambition,
Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with Sebastian
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong)
Would heere haue kill'd your King: I do forgiue thee,
Vnnaturall though thou art: Their vnderstanding
Begins to swell, and the approching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
That now ly foule, and muddy: not one of them
That yet lookes on me, or would know me: Ariell,
Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell,
I will discase me, and my selfe present
As I was sometime Millaine: quickly Spirit,
Thou shalt ere long be free.
Ariell sings, and helps to attire him.
Where the Bee sucks, there suck I,
In a Cowslips bell, I lie,
There I cowch when Owles doe crie,
On the Batts backe I doe flie
after Sommer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I liue now,
Vnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow
   Pro. Why that's my dainty Ariell: I shall misse
Thee, but yet thou shalt haue freedome: so, so, so,
To the Kings ship, inuisible as thou art,
There shalt thou finde the Marriners asleepe
Vnder the Hatches: the Master and the Boat-swaine
Being awake, enforce them to this place;
And presently, I pre'thee
   Ar. I drinke the aire before me, and returne
Or ere your pulse twice beate.
  Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement
Inhabits heere: some heauenly power guide vs
Out of this fearefull Country
   Pro. Behold Sir King
The wronged Duke of Millaine, Prospero:
For more assurance that a liuing Prince
Do's now speake to thee, I embrace thy body,
And to thee, and thy Company, I bid
A hearty welcome
   Alo. Where thou bee'st he or no,
Or some inchanted triflle to abuse me,
(As late I haue beene) I not know: thy Pulse
Beats as of flesh, and blood: and since I saw thee,
Th' affliction of my minde amends, with which
I feare a madnesse held me: this must craue
(And if this be at all) a most strange story.
Thy Dukedome I resigne, and doe entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how shold Prospero
Be liuing, and be heere?
  Pro. First, noble Frend,
Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot
Be measur'd, or confin'd
   Gonz. Whether this be,
Or be not, I'le not sweare
   Pro. You doe yet taste
Some subtleties o'th' Isle, that will nor let you
Beleeue things certaine: Wellcome, my friends all,
But you, my brace of Lords, were I so minded
I heere could plucke his Highnesse frowne vpon you
And iustifie you Traitors: at this time
I will tell no tales
   Seb. The Diuell speakes in him:
For you (most wicked Sir) whom to call brother
Would euen infect my mouth, I do forgiue
Thy rankest fault; all of them: and require
My Dukedome of thee, which, perforce I know
Thou must restore
   Alo. If thou beest Prospero
Giue vs particulars of thy preseruation,
How thou hast met vs heere, whom three howres since
Were wrackt vpon this shore? where I haue lost
(How sharp the point of this remembrance is)
My deere sonne Ferdinand
   Pro. I am woe for't, Sir
   Alo. Irreparable is the losse, and patience
Saies, it is past her cure
   Pro. I rather thinke
You haue not sought her helpe, of whose soft grace
For the like losse, I haue her soueraigne aid,
And rest my selfe content
   Alo. You the like losse?
  Pro. As great to me, as late, and supportable
To make the deere losse, haue I meanes much weaker
Then you may call to comfort you; for I
Haue lost my daughter
   Alo. A daughter?
Oh heauens, that they were liuing both in Naples
The King and Queene there, that they were, I wish
My selfe were mudded in that oozie bed
Where my sonne lies: when did you lose your daughter?
  Pro. In this last Tempest. I perceiue these Lords
At this encounter doe so much admire,
That they deuoure their reason, and scarce thinke
Their eies doe offices of Truth: Their words
Are naturall breath: but howsoeu'r you haue
Beene iustled from your sences, know for certain
That I am Prospero, and that very Duke
Which was thrust forth of Millaine, who most strangely
Vpon this shore (where you were wrackt) was landed
To be the Lord on't: No more yet of this,
For 'tis a Chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a break-fast, nor
Befitting this first meeting: Welcome, Sir;
This Cell's my Court: heere haue I few attendants,
And Subiects none abroad: pray you looke in:
My Dukedome since you haue giuen me againe,
I will requite you with as good a thing,
At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye
As much, as me my Dukedome.
Here Prospero discouers Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at
  Mir. Sweet Lord, you play me false
   Fer. No my dearest loue,
I would not for the world
   Mir. Yes, for a score of Kingdomes, you should wrangle,
And I would call it faire play
   Alo. If this proue
A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne
Shall I twice loose
   Seb. A most high miracle
   Fer. Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull,
I haue curs'd them without cause
   Alo. Now all the blessings
Of a glad father, compasse thee about:
Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere
   Mir. O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there heere?
How beauteous mankinde is? O braue new world
That has such people in't
   Pro. 'Tis new to thee
   Alo. What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at play?
Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three houres:
Is she the goddesse that hath seuer'd vs,
And brought vs thus together?
  Fer. Sir, she is mortall;
But by immortall prouidence, she's mine;
I chose her when I could not aske my Father
For his aduise: nor thought I had one: She
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Millaine,
Of whom, so often I haue heard renowne,
But neuer saw before: of whom I haue
Receiu'd a second life; and second Father
This Lady makes him to me
   Alo. I am hers.
But O, how odly will it sound, that I
Must aske my childe forgiuenesse?
  Pro. There Sir stop,
Let vs not burthen our remembrances, with
A heauinesse that's gon
   Gon. I haue inly wept,
Or should haue spoke ere this: looke downe you gods
And on this couple drop a blessed crowne;
For it is you, that haue chalk'd forth the way
Which brought vs hither
   Alo. I say Amen, Gonzallo
   Gon. Was Millaine thrust from Millaine, that his Issue
Should become Kings of Naples? O reioyce
Beyond a common ioy, and set it downe
With gold on lasting Pillers: In one voyage
Did Claribell her husband finde at Tunis,
And Ferdinand her brother, found a wife,
Where he himselfe was lost: Prospero, his Dukedome
In a poore Isle: and all of vs, our selues,
When no man was his owne
   Alo. Giue me your hands:
Let griefe and sorrow still embrace his heart,
That doth not wish you ioy
   Gon. Be it so, Amen.
Enter Ariell, with the Master and Boatswaine amazedly following.
O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of vs:
I prophesi'd, if a Gallowes were on Land
This fellow could not drowne: Now blasphemy,
That swear'st Grace ore-boord, not an oath on shore,
Hast thou no mouth by land?
What is the newes?
  Bot. The best newes is, that we haue safely found
Our King, and company: The next: our Ship,
Which but three glasses since, we gaue out split,
Is tyte, and yare, and brauely rig'd, as when
We first put out to Sea
   Ar. Sir, all this seruice
Haue I done since I went
   Pro. My tricksey Spirit
   Alo. These are not naturall euents, they strengthen
From strange, to stranger: say, how came you hither?
  Bot. If I did thinke, Sir, I were well awake,
I'ld striue to tell you: we were dead of sleepe,
And (how we know not) all clapt vnder hatches,
Where, but euen now, with strange, and seuerall noyses
Of roring, shreeking, howling, gingling chaines,
And mo diuersitie of sounds, all horrible.
We were awak'd: straight way, at liberty;
Where we, in all our trim, freshly beheld
Our royall, good, and gallant Ship: our Master
Capring to eye her: on a trice, so please you,
Euen in a dreame, were we diuided from them,
And were brought moaping hither
   Ar. Was't well done?
   Pro. Brauely (my diligence) thou shalt be free
   Alo. This is as strange a Maze, as ere men trod,
And there is in this businesse, more then nature
Was euer conduct of: some Oracle
Must rectifie our knowledge
   Pro. Sir, my Leige,
Doe not infest your minde, with beating on
The strangenesse of this businesse, at pickt leisure
(Which shall be shortly single) I'le resolue you,
(Which to you shall seeme probable) of euery
These happend accidents: till when, be cheerefull
And thinke of each thing well: Come hither Spirit,
Set Caliban, and his companions free:
Vntye the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir?
There are yet missing of your Companie
Some few odde Lads, that you remember not.
Enter Ariell, driuing in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their
  Ste. Euery man shift for all the rest, and let
No man take care for himselfe; for all is
But fortune: Coragio Bully-Monster Coragio
   Tri. If these be true spies which I weare in my head,
here's a goodly sight
   Cal. O Setebos, these be braue Spirits indeede:
How fine my Master is? I am afraid
He will chastise me
   Seb. Ha, ha:
What things are these, my Lord Anthonio?
Will money buy em?
  Ant. Very like: one of them
Is a plaine Fish, and no doubt marketable
   Pro. Marke but the badges of these men, my Lords,
Then say if they be true: This mishapen knaue;
His Mother was a Witch, and one so strong
That could controle the Moone; make flowes, and ebs,
And deale in her command, without her power:
These three haue robd me, and this demy-diuell;
(For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them
To take my life: two of these Fellowes, you
Must know, and owne, this Thing of darkenesse, I
Acknowledge mine
   Cal. I shall be pincht to death
   Alo. Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler?
  Seb. He is drunke now;
Where had he wine?
  Alo. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
Finde this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em?
How cam'st thou in this pickle?
  Tri. I haue bin in such a pickle since I saw you last,
That I feare me will neuer out of my bones:
I shall not feare fly-blowing
   Seb. Why how now Stephano?
  Ste. O touch me not, I am not Stephano, but a Cramp
   Pro. You'ld be King o'the Isle, Sirha?
  Ste. I should haue bin a sore one then
   Alo. This is a strange thing as ere I look'd on
   Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his Manners
As in his shape: Goe Sirha, to my Cell,
Take with you your Companions: as you looke
To haue my pardon, trim it handsomely
   Cal. I that I will: and Ile be wise hereafter,
And seeke for grace: what a thrice double Asse
Was I to take this drunkard for a god?
And worship this dull foole?
  Pro. Goe to, away
   Alo. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it
   Seb. Or stole it rather
   Pro. Sir, I inuite your Highnesse, and your traine
To my poore Cell: where you shall take your rest
For this one night, which part of it, Ile waste
With such discourse, as I not doubt, shall make it
Goe quicke away: The story of my life,
And the particular accidents, gon by
Since I came to this Isle: And in the morne
I'le bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I haue hope to see the nuptiall
Of these our deere-belou'd, solemnized,
And thence retire me to my Millaine, where
Euery third thought shall be my graue
   Alo. I long
To heare the story of your life; which must
Take the eare strangely
   Pro. I'le deliuer all,
And promise you calme Seas, auspicious gales,
And saile, so expeditious, that shall catch
Your Royall fleete farre off: My Ariel; chicke
That is thy charge: Then to the Elements
Be free, and fare thou well: please you draw neere.
Exeunt. omnes.
EPILOGVE, spoken by Prospero.
Now my Charmes are all ore-throwne,
And what strength I haue's mine owne.
Which is most faint: now 'tis true
I must be heere confinde by you,
Or sent to Naples, Let me not
Since I haue my Dukedome got,
And pardon'd the deceiuer, dwell
In this bare Island, by your Spell,
But release me from my bands
With the helpe of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours, my Sailes
Must fill, or else my proiect failes,
Which was to please: Now I want
Spirits to enforce: Art to inchant,
And my ending is despaire,
Vnlesse I be relieu'd by praier
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy it selfe, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your Indulgence set me free.
The-, an vn-inhabited Island
Names of the Actors.
Alonso, K[ing]. of Naples:
Sebastian his Brother.
Prospero, the right Duke of Millaine.
Anthonio his brother, the vsurping Duke of Millaine.
Ferdinand, Son to the King of Naples.
Gonzalo, an honest old Councellor.
Adrian, & Francisco, Lords.
Caliban, a saluage and deformed slaue.
Trinculo, a Iester.
Stephano, a drunken Butler.
Master of a Ship.
Boate-Swaine.
Miranda, daughter to Prospero.
Ariell, an ayrie spirit.
FINIS. THE TEMPEST.
Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's The Famous History
of the Life of King Henry the Eight
Executive Director's Notes:
In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:
  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
   Bar. Long liue the King
As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .
The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.
You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.
So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .
So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,
here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The Famous 
History of the Life of King Henry the Eight.
Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director
Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.
The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight
THE PROLOGVE.
I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now,
That beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe:
Such Noble Scoenes, as draw the Eye to flow
We now present. Those that can Pitty, heere
May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare,
The Subiect will deserue it. Such as giue
Their Money out of hope they may beleeue,
May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see
Onely a show or two, and so agree,
The Play may passe: If they be still, and willing,
Ile vndertake may see away their shilling
Richly in two short houres. Onely they
That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play,
A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow
In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow,
Will be deceyu'd. For gentle Hearers, know
To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show
As Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting
Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring
To make that onely true, we now intend,
Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend.
Therefore, for Goodnesse sake, and as you are knowne
The First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne,
Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see
The very Persons of our Noble Story,
As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great,
And follow'd with the generall throng, and sweat
Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see
How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery:
And if you can be merry then, Ile say,
A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day.
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of
Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.
  Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done
Since last we saw in France?
  Norf. I thanke your Grace:
Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer
Of what I saw there
   Buck. An vntimely Ague
Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when
Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men
Met in the vale of Andren
   Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde,
I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke,
Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung
In their Embracement, as they grew together,
Which had they,
What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd
Such a compounded one?
  Buck. All the whole time
I was my Chambers Prisoner
   Nor. Then you lost
The view of earthly glory: Men might say
Till this time Pompe was single, but now married
To one aboue it selfe. Each following day
Became the next dayes master, till the last
Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French,
All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods
Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they
Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood,
Shew'd like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were
As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too,
Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare
The Pride vpon them, that their very labour
Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske
Was cry'de incompareable; and th' ensuing night
Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings
Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst
As presence did present them: Him in eye,
Still him in praise, and being present both,
'Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner
Durst wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes
(For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds challeng'd
The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe
Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie
Being now seene, possible enough, got credit
That Beuis was beleeu'd
   Buc. Oh you go farre
   Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing,
Would by a good Discourser loose some life,
Which Actions selfe, was tongue too
   Buc. All was Royall,
To the disposing of it nought rebell'd,
Order gaue each thing view. The Office did
Distinctly his full Function: who did guide,
I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes
Of this great Sport together?
  Nor. As you guesse:
One certes, that promises no Element
In such a businesse
   Buc. I pray you who, my Lord?
  Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion
Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke
   Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed
From his Ambitious finger. What had he
To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder,
That such a Keech can with his very bulke
Take vp the Rayes o'th' beneficiall Sun,
And keepe it from the Earth
   Nor. Surely Sir,
There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends:
For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace
Chalkes Successors their way; nor call'd vpon
For high feats done to'th' Crowne; neither Allied
To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like
Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note,
The force of his owne merit makes his way
A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes
A place next to the King
   Abur. I cannot tell
What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye
Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride
Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that,
If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard,
Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins
A new Hell in himselfe
   Buc. Why the Diuell,
Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him
(Without the priuity o'th' King) t' appoint
Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File
Of all the Gentry; for the most part such
To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor
He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter
The Honourable Boord of Councell, out
Must fetch him in, he Papers
   Abur. I do know
Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue
By this, so sicken'd their Estates, that neuer
They shall abound as formerly
   Buc. O many
Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em
For this great Iourney. What did this vanity
But minister communication of
A most poore issue
   Nor. Greeuingly I thinke,
The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes
The Cost that did conclude it
   Buc. Euery man,
After the hideous storme that follow'd, was
A thing Inspir'd, and not consulting, broke
Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest
Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded
The sodaine breach on't
   Nor. Which is budded out,
For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd
Our Merchants goods at Burdeux
   Abur. Is it therefore
Th' Ambassador is silenc'd?
  Nor. Marry is't
   Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd
At a superfluous rate
   Buc. Why all this Businesse
Our Reuerend Cardinall carried
   Nor. Like it your Grace,
The State takes notice of the priuate difference
Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you
(And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you
Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade
The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency
Together; To consider further, that
What his high Hatred would effect, wants not
A Minister in his Power. You know his Nature,
That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword
Hath a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide
It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell,
You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock
That I aduice your shunning.
Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of
and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage,
eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of
  Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha?
Where's his Examination?
  Secr. Heere so please you
   Car. Is he in person, ready?
  Secr. I, please your Grace
   Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham
Shall lessen this bigge looke.
Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine.
  Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I
Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best
Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke,
Out-worths a Nobles blood
   Nor. What are you chaff'd?
Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th' appliance onely
Which your disease requires
   Buc. I read in's looks
Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd
Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant
He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th' King:
Ile follow, and out-stare him
   Nor. Stay my Lord,
And let your Reason with your Choller question
What 'tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles
Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like
A full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way
Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a man in England
Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe,
As you would to your Friend
   Buc. Ile to the King,
And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe
This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime,
There's difference in no persons
   Norf. Be aduis'd;
Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot
That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne
By violent swiftnesse that which we run at;
And lose by ouer-running: know you not,
The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore,
In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis'd;
I say againe there is no English Soule
More stronger to direct you then your selfe;
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay the fire of passion
   Buck. Sir,
I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along
By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow,
Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions, by Intelligence,
And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when
Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know
To be corrupt and treasonous
   Norf. Say not treasonous
   Buck. To th' King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong
As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe,
Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous
As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe,
As able to perform't) his minde, and place
Infecting one another, yea reciprocally,
Only to shew his pompe, as well in France,
As here at home, suggests the King our Master
To this last costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew,
That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse
Did breake ith' wrenching
   Norf. Faith, and so it did
   Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall
The Articles o'th' Combination drew
As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified
As he cride thus let be, to as much end,
As giue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall
Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey
(Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes,
(Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie
To th' old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour,
Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt,
(For twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation,
His feares were that the Interview betwixt
England and France, might through their amity
Breed him some preiudice; for from this League,
Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily
Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa
Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour
Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made
And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd,
That he would please to alter the Kings course,
And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know
(As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall
Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases,
And for his owne aduantage
   Norf. I am sorry
To heare this of him; and could wish he were
Somthing mistaken in't
   Buck. No, not a sillable:
I doe pronounce him in that very shape
He shall appeare in proofe.
Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three
  Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it
   Sergeant. Sir,
My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle
Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name
Of our most Soueraigne King
   Buck. Lo you my Lord,
The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish
Vnder deuice, and practise
   Bran. I am sorry,
To see you tane from liberty, to looke on
The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure
You shall to th' Tower
   Buck. It will helpe me nothing
To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me
Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n
Be done in this and all things: I obey.
O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well
   Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King
Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know
How he determines further
   Abur. As the Duke said,
The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure
By me obey'd
   Bran. Here is a warrant from
The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies
Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car,
One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour
   Buck. So, so;
These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope
   Bra. A Monke o'th' Chartreux
   Buck. O Michaell Hopkins?
   Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall
Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spand already:
I am the shadow of poore Buckingham,
Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on,
By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell.
Scena Secunda.
Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the
and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the
on his right side.
  King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it,
Thankes you for this great care: I stood i'th' leuell
Of a full-charg'd confederacie, and giue thankes
To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs
That Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person,
Ile heare him his confessions iustifie,
And point by point the Treasons of his Maister,
He shall againe relate.
A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher'd by the Duke
Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels.
from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him.
  Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor
   King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit
Neuer name to vs; you haue halfe our power:
The other moity ere you aske is giuen,
Repeat your will, and take it
   Queen. Thanke your Maiesty
That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue
Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor
The dignity of your Office; is the poynt
Of my Petition
   Kin. Lady mine proceed
   Queen. I am solicited not by a few,
And those of true condition; That your Subiects
Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions
Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart
Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although
My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches
Most bitterly on you, as putter on
Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister
Whose Honor Heauen shield from soile; euen he escapes not
Language vnmannerly; yea, such which breakes
The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares
In lowd Rebellion
   Norf. Not almost appeares,
It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations,
The Clothiers all not able to maintaine
The many to them longing, haue put off
The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who
Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger
And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner
Daring th' euent too th' teeth, are all in vprore,
And danger serues among them
   Kin. Taxation?
Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall,
You that are blam'd for it alike with vs,
Know you of this Taxation?
  Card. Please you Sir,
I know but of a single part in ought
Pertaines to th' State; and front but in that File
Where others tell steps with me
   Queen. No, my Lord?
You know no more then others? But you frame
Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome
To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions
(Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are
Most pestilent to th' hearing, and to beare 'em,
The Backe is Sacrifice to th' load; They say
They are deuis'd by you, or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation
   Kin. Still Exaction:
The nature of it, in what kinde let's know,
Is this Exaction?
  Queen. I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience, but am boldned
Vnder your promis'd pardon. The Subiects griefe
Comes through Commissions, which compels from each
The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied
Without delay; and the pretence for this
Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths,
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegeance in them; their curses now
Liue where their prayers did: and it's come to passe,
This tractable obedience is a Slaue
To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse
Would giue it quicke consideration; for
There is no primer basenesse
   Kin. By my life,
This is against our pleasure
   Card. And for me,
I haue no further gone in this, then by
A single voice, and that not past me, but
By learned approbation of the Iudges: If I am
Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know
My faculties nor person, yet will be
The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say,
'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake
That Vertue must goe through: we must not stint
Our necessary actions, in the feare
To cope malicious Censurers, which euer,
As rau'nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow
That is new trim'd; but benefit no further
Then vainly longing. What we oft doe best,
By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is
Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft
Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp
For our best Act: if we shall stand still,
In feare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at,
We should take roote here, where we sit;
Or sit State-Statues onely
   Kin. Things done well,
And with a care, exempt themselues from feare:
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. Haue you a President
Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any.
We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes,
And sticke them in our Will. Sixt part of each?
A trembling Contribution; why we take
From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th' Timber:
And though we leaue it with a roote thus hackt,
The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County
Where this is question'd, send our Letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has deny'de
The force of this Commission: pray looke too't;
I put it to your care
   Card. A word with you.
Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire,
Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greeued Commons
Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd,
That through our Intercession, this Reuokement
And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you
Further in the proceeding.
Exit Secret[ary].
Enter Surueyor.
  Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure
   Kin. It grieues many:
The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a most rare Speaker,
To Nature none more bound; his trayning such,
That he may furnish and instruct great Teachers,
And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see,
When these so Noble benefits shall proue
Not well dispos'd, the minde growing once corrupt,
They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly
Then euer they were faire. This man so compleat,
Who was enrold 'mongst wonders; and when we
Almost with rauish'd listning, could not finde
His houre of speech, a minute: He, (my Lady)
Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces
That once were his, and is become as blacke,
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall heare
(This was his Gentleman in trust) of him
Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount
The fore-recited practises, whereof
We cannot feele too little, heare too much
   Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you
Most like a carefull Subiect haue collected
Out of the Duke of Buckingham
   Kin. Speake freely
   Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day
It would infect his Speech: That if the King
Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it so
To make the Scepter his. These very words
I'ue heard him vtter to his Sonne in Law,
Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd
Reuenge vpon the Cardinall
   Card. Please your Highnesse note
This dangerous conception in this point,
Not frended by his wish to your High person;
His will is most malignant, and it stretches
Beyond you to your friends
   Queen. My learn'd Lord Cardinall,
Deliuer all with Charity
   Kin. Speake on;
How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne
Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him,
At any time speake ought?
  Sur. He was brought to this,
By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton
   Kin. What was that Henton?
  Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer,
His Confessor, who fed him euery minute
With words of Soueraignty
   Kin. How know'st thou this?
  Sur. Not long before your Highnesse sped to France,
The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish
Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners,
Concerning the French Iourney. I replide,
Men feare the French would proue perfidious
To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke
Said, 'twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted
'Twould proue the verity of certaine words
Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he,
Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre
To heare from him a matter of some moment:
Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale,
He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke
My Chaplaine to no Creature liuing, but
To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence,
This pausingly ensu'de; neither the King, nor's Heyres
(Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him striue
To the loue o'th' Commonalty, the Duke
Shall gouerne England
   Queen. If I know you well,
You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office
On the complaint o'th' Tenants; take good heed
You charge not in your spleene a Noble person,
And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed;
Yes, heartily beseech you
   Kin. Let him on: Goe forward
   Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth.
I told my Lord the Duke, by th' Diuels illusions
The Monke might be deceiu'd, and that 'twas dangerous
For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill
It forg'd him some designe, which being beleeu'd
It was much like to doe: He answer'd, Tush,
It can do me no damage; adding further,
That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild,
The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Louels heads
Should haue gone off
   Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha,
There's mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further?
  Sur. I can my Liedge
   Kin. Proceed
   Sur. Being at Greenwich,
After your Highnesse had reprou'd the Duke
About Sir William Blumer
   Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn seruant,
The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence?
  Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed,
As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid
The Part my Father meant to act vpon
Th' Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury,
Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted,
(As he made semblance of his duty) would
Haue put his knife into him
   Kin. A Gyant Traytor
   Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome,
And this man out of Prison
   Queen. God mend all
   Kin. Ther's somthing more would out of thee; what say'st?
  Sur. After the Duke his Father, with the knife
He stretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger,
Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible Oath, whose tenor
Was, were he euill vs'd, he would outgoe
His Father, by as much as a performance
Do's an irresolute purpose
   Kin. There's his period,
To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd,
Call him to present tryall: if he may
Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not seek't of vs: By day and night
Hee's Traytor to th' height.
Scaena Tertia.
  L.Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle
Men into such strange mysteries?
  L.San. New customes,
Though they be neuer so ridiculous,
(Nay let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd
   L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English
Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely
A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are shrewd ones)
For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly
Their very noses had been Councellours
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so
   L.San. They haue all new legs,
And lame ones; one would take it,
That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen
A Spring-halt rain'd among 'em
   L.Ch. Death my Lord,
Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't,
That sure th'haue worne out Christendome: how now?
What newes, Sir Thomas Louell?
Enter Sir Thomas Louell.
  Louell. Faith my Lord,
I heare of none but the new Proclamation,
That's clapt vpon the Court Gate
   L.Cham. What is't for?
  Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants,
That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors
   L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there;
Now I would pray our Monsieurs
To thinke an English Courtier may be wise,
And neuer see the Louure
   Lou. They must either
(For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants
Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes,
Abusing better men then they can be
Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane
The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings,
Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell;
And vnderstand againe like honest men,
Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it,
They may Cum Priuilegio, wee away
The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at
   L.San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases
Are growne so catching
   L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies
Will haue of these trim vanities?
  Louell. I marry,
There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons
Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies.
A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow
   L.San. The Diuell fiddle 'em,
I am glad they are going,
For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now
An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song,
And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady
Held currant Musicke too
   L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands,
Your Colts tooth is not cast yet?
  L.San. No my Lord,
Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe
   L.Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a going?
  Lou. To the Cardinals;
Your Lordship is a guest too
   L.Cham. O, 'tis true;
This night he makes a Supper, and a great one,
To many Lords and Ladies; there will be
The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile assure you
   Lou. That Churchman
Beares a bounteous minde indeed,
A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs,
His dewes fall euery where
   L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble;
He had a blacke mouth that said other of him
   L.San. He may my Lord,
Ha's wherewithall in him;
Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine,
Men of his way, should be most liberall,
They are set heere for examples
   L.Cham. True, they are so;
But few now giue so great ones:
My Barge stayes;
Your Lordship shall along: Come, good Sir Thomas,
We shall be late else, which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford
This night to be Comptrollers
   L.San. I am your Lordships.
Scena Quarta.
Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer
the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, &
as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry
  S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes,
A generall welcome from his Grace
Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates
To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes
In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her
One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry:
As first, good Company, good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people.
Enter L[ord]. Chamberlaine L[ord]. Sands, and Louell.
O my Lord, y'are tardy;
The very thought of this faire Company,
Clapt wings to me
   Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford
   San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall
But halfe my Lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested,
I thinke would better please 'em: by my life,
They are a sweet society of faire ones
   Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor,
To one or two of these
   San. I would I were,
They should finde easie pennance
   Lou. Faith how easie?
  San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it
   Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry
Place you that side, Ile take the charge of this:
His Grace is entring. Nay, you must not freeze,
Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather:
My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking:
Pray sit betweene these Ladies
   San. By my faith,
And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies,
If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me:
I had it from my Father
   An.Bul. Was he mad Sir?
  San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too;
But he would bite none, iust as I doe now,
He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath
   Cham. Well said my Lord:
So now y'are fairely seated: Gentlemen,
The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies
Passe away frowning
   San. For my little Cure,
Let me alone.
Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State.
  Card. Y'are welcome my faire Guests; that noble Lady
Or Gentleman that is not freely merry
Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome,
And to you all good health
   San. Your Grace is Noble,
Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes,
And saue me so much talking
   Card. My Lord Sands,
I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours:
Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?
  San. The red wine first must rise
In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em,
Talke vs to silence
   An.B. You are a merry Gamster
My Lord Sands
   San. Yes, if I make my play:
Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam:
For tis to such a thing
   An.B. You cannot shew me.
Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd.
  San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon
   Card. What's that?
  Cham. Looke out there, some of ye
   Card. What warlike voyce,
And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not;
By all the lawes of Warre y'are priuiledg'd.
Enter a Seruant.
  Cham. How now, what is't?
  Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers,
For so they seeme; th' haue left their Barge and landed,
And hither make, as great Embassadors
From forraigne Princes
   Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine,
Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue
And pray receiue 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our presence, where this heauen of beauty
Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him.
All rise, and Tables remou'd.
You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it.
A good digestion to you all; and once more
I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all.
Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like
vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the
and gracefully salute him.
A noble Company: what are their pleasures?
  Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid
To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by fame
Of this so Noble and so faire assembly,
This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse,
(Out of the great respect they beare to beauty)
But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct
Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat
An houre of Reuels with 'em
   Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine,
They haue done my poore house grace:
For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes,
And pray 'em take their pleasures.
Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.
  King. The fairest hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty,
Till now I neuer knew thee.
Musicke, Dance.
  Card. My Lord
   Cham. Your Grace
   Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me:
There should be one amongst 'em by his person
More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom
(If I but knew him) with my loue and duty
I would surrender it.
  Cham. I will my Lord
   Card. What say they?
  Cham. Such a one, they all confesse
There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace
Find out, and he will take it
   Card. Let me see then,
By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make
My royall choyce
   Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall,
You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord:
You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall,
I should iudge now vnhappily
   Card. I am glad
Your Grace is growne so pleasant
   Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine,
Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that?
  Cham. An't please your Grace,
Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford,
One of her Highnesse women
   Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart,
I were vnmannerly to take you out,
And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen,
Let it goe round
   Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready
I'th' Priuy Chamber?
  Lou. Yes, my Lord
   Card. Your Grace
I feare, with dancing is a little heated
   Kin. I feare too much
   Card. There's fresher ayre my Lord,
In the next Chamber
   Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one: Sweet Partner,
I must not yet forsake you: Let's be merry,
Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a dozen healths,
To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once againe, and then let's dreame
Who's best in fauour. Let the Musicke knock it.
Exeunt. with Trumpets.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.
  1. Whether away so fast?
  2. O, God saue ye:
Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham
   1. Ile saue you
That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony
Of bringing backe the Prisoner
   2. Were you there ?
  1. Yes indeed was I
   2. Pray speake what ha's happen'd
   1. You may guesse quickly what
   2. Is he found guilty?
  1. Yes truely is he,
And condemn'd vpon't
   2. I am sorry fort
   1. So are a number more
   2. But pray how past it?
  1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke
Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations
He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged
Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law.
The Kings Atturney on the contrary,
Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions
Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd
To him brought viua voce to his face;
At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor
Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car,
Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke,
Hopkins, that made this mischiefe
   2. That was hee
That fed him with his Prophecies
   1. The same,
All these accus'd him strongly, which he faine
Would haue flung from him; but indeed he could not;
And so his Peeres vpon this euidence,
Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all
Was either pittied in him, or forgotten
   2. After all this, how did he beare himselfe?
  1. When he was brought agen to th' Bar, to heare
His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir'd
With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly,
And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty:
But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly,
In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience
   2. I doe not thinke he feares death
   1. Sure he does not,
He neuer was so womanish, the cause
He may a little grieue at
   2. Certainly,
The Cardinall is the end of this
   1. Tis likely,
By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure;
Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou'd
Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too,
Least he should helpe his Father
   2. That tricke of State
Was a deepe enuious one,
  1. At his returne,
No doubt he will requite it; this is noted
(And generally) who euer the King fauours,
The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment,
And farre enough from Court too
   2. All the Commons
Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience
Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much
They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham,
The Mirror of all courtesie.
Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him,
the Axe with
the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with
Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people,
  1. Stay there Sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of
   2. Let's stand close and behold him
   Buck. All good people,
You that thus farre haue come to pitty me;
Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me.
I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement,
And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes,
And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me,
Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull.
The Law I beare no mallice for my death,
T'has done vpon the premises, but Iustice:
But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians:
(Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em;
Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe;
Nor build their euils on the graues of great men;
For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against 'em.
For further life in this world I ne're hope,
Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercies
More then I dare make faults.
You few that lou'd me,
And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham,
His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue
Is only bitter to him, only dying:
Goe with me like good Angels to my end,
And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me,
Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice,
And lift my Soule to Heauen.
Lead on a Gods name
   Louell. I doe beseech your Grace, for charity
If euer any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly
   Buck. Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you
As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all.
There cannot be those numberlesse offences
Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with:
No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue.
Commend mee to his Grace:
And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him,
You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers
Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake,
Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue
Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares;
Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be;
And when old Time shall lead him to his end,
Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument
   Lou. To th' water side I must conduct your Grace;
Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who vndertakes you to your end
   Vaux. Prepare there,
The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready;
And fit it with such furniture as suites
The Greatnesse of his Person
   Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me.
When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable,
And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun;
Yet I am richer then my base Accusers,
That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it;
And with that bloud will make 'em one day groane for't.
My noble Father Henry of Buckingham,
Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister,
Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid,
And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him.
Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying
My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince
Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines
Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne,
Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all
That made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken
For euer from the World. I had my Tryall,
And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me
A little happier then my wretched Father:
Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both
Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most:
A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice.
Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me,
This from a dying man receiue as certaine:
Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels,
Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends,
And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, neuer found againe
But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people
Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre
Of my long weary life is come vpon me:
Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad,
Speake how I fell.
I haue done; and God forgiue me.
Exeunt. Duke and Traine.
  1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals
I feare, too many curses on their heads
That were the Authors
   2. If the Duke be guiltlesse,
'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling
Of an ensuing euill, if it fall,
Greater then this
   1. Good Angels keepe it from vs:
What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir?
  2. This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceale it
   1. Let me haue it:
I doe not talke much
   2. I am confident;
You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare
A buzzing of a Separation
Betweene the King and Katherine?
  1. Yes, but it held not;
For when the King once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight
To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it
   2. But that slander Sir,
Is found a truth now: for it growes agen
Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine
The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall,
Or some about him neere, haue out of malice
To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple
That will vndoe her: To confirme this too,
Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately,
As all thinke for this busines
   1. Tis the Cardinall;
And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour,
For not bestowing on him at his asking,
The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd
   2. I thinke
You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell,
That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall
Will haue his will, and she must fall
   1. 'Tis wofull.
Wee are too open heere to argue this:
Let's thinke in priuate more.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.
My Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the
care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd.
They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the
North. When they were ready to set out for London, a man
of my Lord Cardinalls, by Commission, and maine power tooke
'em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd before
a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop'd our mouthes
I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee
will haue all I thinke.
Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Norfolke and
  Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine
   Cham. Good day to both your Graces
   Suff. How is the King imployd?
  Cham. I left him priuate,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles
   Norf. What's the cause?
  Cham. It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife
Ha's crept too neere his Conscience
   Suff. No, his Conscience
Ha's crept too neere another Ladie
   Norf. Tis so;
This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall,
That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune,
Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day
   Suff. Pray God he doe,
Hee'l neuer know himselfe else
   Norf. How holily he workes in all his businesse,
And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League
Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew)
He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience,
Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage.
And out of all these, to restore the King,
He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her
That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares
About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre;
Of her that loues him with that excellence,
That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her,
That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls
Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious?
  Cham. Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true
These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em,
And euery true heart weepes for't. All that dare
Looke into these affaires, see this maine end,
The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open
The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon
This bold bad man
   Suff. And free vs from his slauery
   Norf. We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliuerance;
Or this imperious man will worke vs all
From Princes into Pages: all mens honours
Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please
   Suff. For me, my Lords,
I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede:
As I am made without him, so Ile stand,
If the King please: his Curses and his blessings
Touch me alike: th'are breath I not beleeue in.
I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him
To him that made him proud; the Pope
   Norf. Let's in;
And with some other busines, put the King
From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him:
My Lord, youle beare vs company?
  Cham. Excuse me,
The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides
You'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him:
Health to your Lordships
   Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits
  Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted
   Kin. Who's there? Ha?
  Norff. Pray God he be not angry
   Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your selues
Into my priuate Meditations?
Who am I? Ha?
  Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences
Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way,
Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come
To know your Royall pleasure
   Kin. Ye are too bold:
Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse:
Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha?
Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.
Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded Conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome
Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome,
Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care,
I be not found a Talker
   Wol. Sir, you cannot;
I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre
Of priuate conference
   Kin. We are busie; goe
   Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him?
  Suff. Not to speake of:
I would not be so sicke though for his place:
But this cannot continue
   Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him
   Suff. I another.
Exeunt. Norfolke and Suffolke.
  Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome
Aboue all Princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome:
Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you?
The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her,
Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse,
The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes,
(I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes)
Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement)
Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent
One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man,
This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius,
Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse
   Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome,
And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues,
They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for
   Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues,
You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand
I tender my Commission; by whose vertue,
The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord
Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant,
In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse
   Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
  Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her
So deare in heart, not to deny her that
A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law;
Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her
   Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour
To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall,
Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary.
I find him a fit fellow.
Enter Gardiner.
  Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you;
You are the Kings now
   Gard. But to be commanded
For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me
   Kin. Come hither Gardiner.
Walkes and whispers.
  Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace
In this mans place before him?
  Wol. Yes, he was
   Camp. Was he not held a learned man?
  Wol. Yes surely
   Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall
   Wol. How? of me?
  Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him;
And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous)
Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him,
That he ran mad, and dide
   Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him:
That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole;
For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow,
If I command him followes my appointment,
I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother,
We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons
   Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene.
Exit Gardiner.
The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of
For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers:
There ye shall meete about this waighty busines.
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord,
Would it not grieue an able man to leaue
So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience;
O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.
  An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches.
His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she
So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer
Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life,
She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after
So many courses of the Sun enthroaned,
Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which
To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then
'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Processe.
To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty
Would moue a Monster
   Old La. Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her
   An. Oh Gods will, much better
She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall,
Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging
As soule and bodies seuering
   Old L. Alas poore Lady,
Shee's a stranger now againe
   An. So much the more
Must pitty drop vpon her; verily
I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne,
And range with humble liuers in Content,
Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe,
And weare a golden sorrow
   Old L. Our content
Is our best hauing
   Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,
I would not be a Queene
   Old.L. Beshrew me, I would,
And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you
For all this spice of your Hipocrisie:
You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you,
Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet
Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty;
Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts
(Sauing your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue,
If you might please to stretch it
   Anne. Nay, good troth
   Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?
  Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen
   Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me
Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,
What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs
To beare that load of Title?
  An. No in truth
   Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,
I would not be a young Count in your way,
For more then blushing comes to: If your backe
Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake
Euer to get a Boy
   An. How you doe talke;
I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene,
For all the world
   Old.L. In faith, for little England
You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe
Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd
No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?
Enter Lord Chamberlaine.
  L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know
The secret of your conference?
  An. My good Lord,
Not your demand; it values not your asking:
Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying
   Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming
The action of good women, there is hope
All will be well
   An. Now I pray God, Amen
   Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings
Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady
Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes
Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty
Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and
Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing,
Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title,
A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support,
Out of his Grace, he addes
   An. I doe not know
What kinde of my obedience, I should tender;
More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers
Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes
More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes
Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship,
Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience,
As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse;
Whose health and Royalty I pray for
   Cham. Lady;
I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceit
The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well,
Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled,
That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet
But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme,
To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King,
And say I spoke with you.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine.
  An. My honour'd Lord
   Old.L. Why this it is: See, see,
I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court
(Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early, and too late
For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate)
A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon
This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp,
Before you open it
   An. This is strange to me
   Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no:
There was a Lady once (tis an old Story)
That would not be a Queene, that would she not
For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?
  An. Come you are pleasant
   Old.L. With your Theame, I could
O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke?
A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect?
No other obligation? by my Life,
That promises mo thousands: Honours traine
Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time
I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say,
Are you not stronger then you were?
  An. Good Lady,
Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy,
And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being
If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me
To thinke what followes.
The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull
In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer,
What heere y'haue heard to her
   Old L. What doe you thinke me -
Scena Quarta.
Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short
wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them,
Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne,
Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small
followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and
Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse:
Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at
Armes, bearing
a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer
Pillers: After
them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the
Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two
sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance
King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in
Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the
Bishops. The
rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.
  Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded
   King. What's the need?
It hath already publiquely bene read,
And on all sides th' Authority allow'd,
You may then spare that time
   Car. Bee't so, proceed
   Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court
   Crier. Henry King of England, &c
   King. Heere
   Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England,
Come into the Court
   Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.
The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about
Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.
Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice,
And to bestow your pitty on me; for
I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger,
Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere
No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir:
In what haue I offended you? What cause
Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceede to put me off,
And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse,
I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife,
At all times to your will conformable:
Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike,
Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry,
As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre
I euer contradicted your Desire?
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends
Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew
He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine,
That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I
Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice
He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde,
That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience,
Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene blest
With many Children by you. If in the course
And processe of this time, you can report,
And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught;
My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie
Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name
Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt
Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp
To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir,
The King your Father, was reputed for
A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent
And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand
My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one
The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many
A yeare before. It is not to be question'd,
That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them
Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse,
Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly
Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may
Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile
I will implore. If not, i'th' name of God
Your pleasure be fulfill'd
   Wol. You haue heere Lady,
(And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men
Of singular Integrity, and Learning;
Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are assembled
To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse,
That longer you desire the Court, as well
For your owne quiet, as to rectifie
What is vnsetled in the King
   Camp. His Grace
Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam,
It's fit this Royall Session do proceed,
And that (without delay) their Arguments
Be now produc'd, and heard
   Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake
   Wol. Your pleasure, Madam
   Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that
We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine
The daughter of a King, my drops of teares,
Ile turne to sparkes of fire
   Wol. Be patient yet
   Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before,
Or God will punish me. I do beleeue
(Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that
You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge,
You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you
Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me;
(Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe,
I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule
Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more
I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not
At all a Friend to truth
   Wol. I do professe
You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet
Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th' effects
Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome,
Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong
I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice
For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded,
Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted
By a Commission from the Consistorie,
Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me,
That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it,
The King is present: If it be knowne to him,
That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound,
And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much
As you haue done my Truth. If he know
That I am free of your Report, he knowes
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to
Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before
His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech
You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking,
And to say so no more
   Queen. My Lord, My Lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weake
T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd
You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming,
With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart
Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride.
You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors,
Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted
Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words
(Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please
Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you,
You tender more your persons Honor, then
Your high profession Spirituall. That agen
I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere
Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope,
To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse,
And to be iudg'd by him.
She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.
  Camp. The Queene is obstinate,
Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well.
Shee's going away
   Kin. Call her againe
   Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court
   Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe
   Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way,
When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe,
They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on;
I will not tarry: no, nor euer more
Vpon this businesse my appearance make,
In any of their Courts.
Exit Queene, and her Attendants.
  Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate,
That man i'th' world, who shall report he ha's
A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted,
For speaking false in that; thou art alone
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse,
Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out)
The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne;
And like her true Nobility, she ha's
Carried her selfe towards me
   Wol. Most gracious Sir,
In humblest manner I require your Highnes,
That it shall please you to declare in hearing
Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound,
There must I be vnloos'd, although not there
At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I
Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or
Laid any scruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on't: or euer
Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such
A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might
Be to the preiudice of her present State,
Or touch of her good Person?
  Kin. My Lord Cardinall,
I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour,
I free you from't: You are not to be taught
That you haue many enemies, that know not
Why they are so; but like to Village Curres,
Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these
The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd:
But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer
Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd
It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft
The passages made toward it; on my Honour,
I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point;
And thus farre cleare him.
Now, what mou'd me too't,
I will be bold with time and your attention:
Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't:
My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes,
Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd
By th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador,
Who had beene hither sent on the debating
And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and
Our Daughter Mary: I'th' Progresse of this busines,
Ere a determinate resolution, hee
(I meane the Bishop) did require a respite,
Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise,
Whether our Daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager,
Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke
The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me;
Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way,
That many maz'd considerings, did throng
And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought
I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had
Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe
If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should
Doe no more Offices of life too't; then
The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue,
Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after
This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought,
This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome
(Well worthy the best Heyre o'th' World) should not
Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that
I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in
By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me
Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in
The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present heere together: that's to say,
I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which
I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well,
By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land,
And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate,
With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember
How vnder my oppression I did reeke
When I first mou'd you
   B.Lin. Very well my Liedge
   Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say
How farre you satisfide me
   Lin. So please your Highnes,
The question did at first so stagger me,
Bearing a State of mighty moment in't,
And consequence of dread, that I committed
The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt,
And did entreate your Highnes to this course,
Which you are running heere
   Kin. I then mou'd you,
My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue
To make this present Summons vnsolicited.
I left no Reuerend Person in this Court;
But by particular consent proceeded
Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on,
For no dislike i'th' world against the person
Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points
Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward:
Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life
And Kingly Dignity, we are contented
To weare our mortall State to come, with her,
(Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature
That's Parragon'd o'th' World
   Camp. So please your Highnes,
The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse,
That we adiourne this Court till further day;
Meane while, must be an earnest motion
Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale
She intends vnto his Holinesse
   Kin. I may perceiue
These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre
This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome.
My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer,
Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know,
My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court;
I say, set on.
Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.
  Queen. Take thy Lute wench,
My Soule growes sad with troubles,
Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working.
Orpheus with his Lute made Trees,
And the Mountaine tops that freeze,
Bow themselues when he did sing.
To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers
Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers,
There had made a lasting Spring.
Euery thing that heard him play,
Euen the Billowes of the Sea,
Hung their heads, & then lay by.
In sweet Musicke is such Art,
Killing care, & griefe of heart,
Fall asleepe, or hearing dye.
Enter a Gentleman.
  Queen. How now?
  Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals
Wait in the presence
   Queen. Would they speake with me?
  Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam
   Queen. Pray their Graces
To come neere: what can be their busines
With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour?
I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't,
They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous:
But all Hoods, make not Monkes.
Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.
  Wols. Peace to your Highnesse
   Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife,
(I would be all) against the worst may happen:
What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords?
  Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw
Into your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you
The full cause of our comming
   Queen. Speake it heere.
There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience
Deserues a Corner: would all other Women
Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe.
My Lords, I care not (so much I am happy
Aboue a number) if my actions
Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em,
Enuy and base opinion set against 'em,
I know my life so euen. If your busines
Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in;
Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing
   Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima
   Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin;
I am not such a Truant since my comming,
As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in:
A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspitious:
Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you,
If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake;
Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall,
The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed,
May be absolu'd in English
   Card. Noble Lady,
I am sorry my integrity should breed,
(And seruice to his Maiesty and you)
So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant;
We come not by the way of Accusation,
To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses;
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow;
You haue too much good Lady: But to know
How you stand minded in the waighty difference
Betweene the King and you, and to deliuer
(Like free and honest men) our iust opinions,
And comforts to our cause
   Camp. Most honour'd Madam,
My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature,
Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace,
Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure
Both of his truth and him (which was too farre)
Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace,
His Seruice, and his Counsell
   Queen. To betray me.
My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills,
Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so)
But how to make ye sodainly an Answere
In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour,
(More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit;
And to such men of grauity and learning;
In truth I know not. I was set at worke,
Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking
Either for such men, or such businesse;
For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele
The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces
Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause:
Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse
   Wol. Madam,
You wrong the Kings loue with these feares,
Your hopes and friends are infinite
   Queen. In England,
But little for my profit can you thinke Lords,
That any English man dare giue me Councell?
Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure,
(Though he be growne so desperate to be honest)
And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends,
They that must weigh out my afflictions,
They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere,
They are (as all my other comforts) far hence
In mine owne Countrey Lords
   Camp. I would your Grace
Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell
   Queen. How Sir?
  Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection,
Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much,
Both for your Honour better, and your Cause:
For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye,
You'l part away disgrac'd
   Wol. He tels you rightly
   Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine:
Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye.
Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a Iudge,
That no King can corrupt
   Camp. Your rage mistakes vs
   Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye,
Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues:
But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye:
Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort?
The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady?
A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd?
I will not wish ye halfe my miseries,
I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye;
Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at once
The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye
   Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction,
You turne the good we offer, into enuy
   Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye,
And all such false Professors. Would you haue me
(If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty,
If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits)
Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me?
Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already,
His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords,
And all the Fellowship I hold now with him
Is onely my Obedience. What can happen
To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies
Make me a Curse, like this
   Camp. Your feares are worse
   Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe,
Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one?
A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory)
Neuer yet branded with Suspition?
Haue I, with all my full Affections
Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him?
Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him?
Almost forgot my Prayres to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords.
Bring me a constant woman to her Husband,
One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure;
And to that Woman (when she has done most)
Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience
   Car. Madam, you wander from the good
   Qu. My Lord,
I dare not make my selfe so guiltie,
To giue vp willingly that Noble Title
Your Master wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e're diuorce my Dignities
   Car. Pray heare me
   Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth,
Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it:
Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts.
What will become of me now, wretched Lady?
I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing.
Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes?
Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty,
No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me?
Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly
That once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd,
Ile hang my head, and perish
   Car. If your Grace
Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest,
Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady)
Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places,
The way of our Profession is against it;
We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em.
For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do,
How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly
Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage.
The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience,
So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits,
They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes.
I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper,
A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs,
Those we professe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants
   Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so:
You wrong your Vertues
With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit
As yours was, put into you, euer casts
Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you,
Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you please
To trust vs in your businesse) we are ready
To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice
   Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords:
And pray forgiue me;
If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly,
You know I am a Woman, lacking wit
To make a seemely answer to such persons.
Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie,
He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers
While I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers,
Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges
That little thought when she set footing heere,
She should haue bought her Dignities so deere.
Scena Secunda.
Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and
Chamberlaine.
  Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints,
And force them with a Constancy, the Cardinall
Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise,
But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces,
With these you beare alreadie
   Sur. I am ioyfull
To meete the least occasion, that may giue me
Remembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke,
To be reueng'd on him
   Suf. Which of the Peeres
Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected? When did he regard
The stampe of Noblenesse in any person
Out of himselfe?
  Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures:
What he deserues of you and me, I know:
What we can do to him (though now the time
Giues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannot
Barre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attempt
Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft
Ouer the King in's Tongue
   Nor. O feare him not,
His spell in that is out: the King hath found
Matter against him, that for euer marres
The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled
(Not to come off) in his displeasure
   Sur. Sir,
I should be glad to heare such Newes as this
Once euery houre
   Nor. Beleeue it, this is true.
In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings
Are all vnfolded: wherein he appeares,
As I would wish mine Enemy
   Sur. How came
His practises to light?
  Suf. Most strangely
   Sur. O how? how?
  Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried,
And came to th' eye o'th' King, wherein was read
How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse
To stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for if
It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue
My King is tangled in affection, to
A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen
   Sur. Ha's the King this?
  Suf. Beleeue it
   Sur. Will this worke?
  Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts
And hedges his owne way. But in this point
All his trickes founder, and he brings his Physicke
After his Patients death; the King already
Hath married the faire Lady
   Sur. Would he had
   Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord,
For I professe you haue it
   Sur. Now all my ioy
Trace the Coniunction
   Suf. My Amen too't
   Nor. All mens
   Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation:
Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left
To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords
She is a gallant Creature, and compleate
In minde and feature. I perswade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this Land, which shall
In it be memoriz'd
   Sur. But will the King
Digest this Letter of the Cardinals?
The Lord forbid
   Nor. Marry Amen
   Suf. No, no:
There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose,
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius,
Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue,
Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, and
Is posted as the Agent of our Cardinall,
To second all his plot. I do assure you,
The King cry'de Ha, at this
   Cham. Now God incense him,
And let him cry Ha, lowder
   Norf. But my Lord
When returnes Cranmer?
  Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which
Haue satisfied the King for his Diuorce,
Together with all famous Colledges
Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue)
His second Marriage shall be publishd, and
Her Coronation. Katherine no more
Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager,
And Widdow to Prince Arthur
   Nor. This same Cranmer's
A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine
In the Kings businesse
   Suff. He ha's, and we shall see him
For it, an Arch-byshop
   Nor. So I heare
   Suf. 'Tis so.
Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.
The Cardinall
   Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody
   Car. The Packet Cromwell,
Gau't you the King?
  Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber
   Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper?
  Crom. Presently
He did vnseale them, and the first he view'd,
He did it with a Serious minde: a heede
Was in his countenance. You he bad
Attend him heere this Morning
   Card. Is he ready to come abroad?
  Crom. I thinke by this he is
   Card. Leaue me a while.
Exit Cromwell.
It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson,
The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her.
Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him,
There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen?
No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish
To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke?
  Nor. He's discontented
   Suf. Maybe he heares the King
Does whet his Anger to him
   Sur. Sharpe enough,
Lord for thy Iustice
   Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman?
A Knights Daughter
To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene?
This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it,
Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous
And well deseruing? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to
Our cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome of
Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vp
An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one
Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King,
And is his Oracle
   Nor. He is vex'd at something.
Enter King, reading of a Scedule.
  Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string,
The Master-cord on's heart
   Suf. The King, the King
   King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his owne portion? And what expence by'th' houre
Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name of Thrift
Does he rake this together? Now my Lords,
Saw you the Cardinall?
  Nor. My Lord, we haue
Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion
Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts,
Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground,
Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight
Springs out into fast gate, then stops againe,
Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts
His eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures
We haue seene him set himselfe
   King. It may well be,
There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning,
Papers of State he sent me, to peruse
As I requir'd: and wot you what I found
There (on my Conscience put vnwittingly)
Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing
The seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure,
Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, which
I finde at such proud Rate, that it out-speakes
Possession of a Subiect
   Nor. It's Heauens will,
Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet,
To blesse your eye withall
   King. If we did thinke
His Contemplation were aboue the earth,
And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still
Dwell in his Musings, but I am affraid
His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth
His serious considering.
King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall.
  Car. Heauen forgiue me,
Euer God blesse your Highnesse
   King. Good my Lord,
You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory
Of your best Graces, in your minde; the which
You were now running o're: you haue scarse time
To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span
To keepe your earthly Audit, sure in that
I deeme you an ill Husband, and am glad
To haue you therein my Companion
   Car. Sir,
For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time
To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which
I beare i'th' State: and Nature does require
Her times of preseruation, which perforce
I her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall,
Must giue my tendance to
   King. You haue said well
   Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together,
(As I will lend you cause) my doing well,
With my well saying
   King. 'Tis well said agen,
And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well,
And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you,
He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne
His word vpon you. Since I had my Office,
I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone
Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home,
But par'd my present Hauings, to bestow
My Bounties vpon you
   Car. What should this meane?
  Sur. The Lord increase this businesse
   King. Haue I not made you
The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me,
If what I now pronounce, you haue found true:
And if you may confesse it, say withall
If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you?
  Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces
Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could
My studied purposes requite, which went
Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors,
Haue euer come too short of my Desires,
Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends
Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed
To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and
The profit of the State. For your great Graces
Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I
Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes,
My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie
Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing,
Till death (that Winter) kill it
   King. Fairely answer'd:
A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is
Therein illustrated, the Honor of it
Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary
The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume,
That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you,
My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more
On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart,
Your Braine, and euery Function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twer in Loues particular, be more
To me your Friend, then any
   Car. I do professe,
That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd
More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be
(Though all the world should cracke their duty to you,
And throw it from their Soule, though perils did
Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and
Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty,
As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood,
Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake,
And stand vnshaken yours
   King. 'Tis Nobly spoken:
Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest,
For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this,
And after this, and then to Breakfast with
What appetite you haue.
Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after
smiling, and whispering.
  Car. What should this meane?
What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it?
He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine
Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon
Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him:
Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper:
I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so:
This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt
Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together
For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome,
And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence!
Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell
Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet
I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this?
No new deuice to beate this from his Braines?
I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune
Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope?
The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse
I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell:
I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse,
And from that full Meridian of my Glory,
I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the Euening,
And no man see me more.
Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle
and the Lord Chamberlaine.
  Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall,
Who commands you
To render vp the Great Seale presently
Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe
To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters,
Till you heare further from his Highnesse
   Car. Stay:
Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie
Authority so weighty
   Suf. Who dare crosse 'em,
Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely?
  Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it,
(I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords,
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele
Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy,
How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces
As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton
Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine?
Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice;
You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt
In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale
You aske with such a Violence, the King
(Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me:
Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors
During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse,
Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it?
  Sur. The King that gaue it
   Car. It must be himselfe then
   Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest
   Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest:
Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better
Haue burnt that Tongue, then saide so
   Sur. Thy Ambition
(Thou Scarlet sinne) robb'd this bewailing Land
Of Noble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law,
The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals,
(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together)
Weigh'd not a haire of his. Plague of your policie,
You sent me Deputie for Ireland,
Farre from his succour; from the King, from all
That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him:
Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty,
Absolu'd him with an Axe
   Wol. This, and all else
This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law
Found his deserts. How innocent I was
From any priuate malice in his end,
His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse.
If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you,
You haue as little Honestie, as Honor,
That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth,
Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master,
Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be,
And all that loue his follies
   Sur. By my Soule,
Your long Coat (Priest) protects you,
Thou should'st feele
My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords,
Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance?
And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely,
To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet,
Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward,
And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes
   Card. All Goodnesse
Is poyson to thy Stomacke
   Sur. Yes, that goodnesse
Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one,
Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion:
The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets
You writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesse
Since you prouoke me, shall be most notorious.
My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble,
As you respect the common good, the State
Of our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues,
(Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen)
Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles
Collected from his life. Ile startle you
Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench
Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall
   Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man,
But that I am bound in Charitie against it
   Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand:
But thus much, they are foule ones
   Wol. So much fairer
And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise,
When the King knowes my Truth
   Sur. This cannot saue you:
I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember
Some of these Articles, and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall,
You'l shew a little Honestie
   Wol. Speake on Sir,
I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush,
It is to see a Nobleman want manners
   Sur. I had rather want those, then my head;
Haue at you.
First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge,
You wrought to be a Legate, by which power
You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops
   Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else
To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus
Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King
To be your Seruant
   Suf. Then, that without the knowledge
Either of King or Councell, when you went
Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale
   Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission
To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude
Without the Kings will, or the States allowance,
A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara
   Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd
Your holy-Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine
   Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance,
(By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience)
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayes
You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing
Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are,
Which since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with
   Cham. O my Lord,
Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue:
His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them
(Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him
So little, of his great Selfe
   Sur. I forgiue him
   Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is,
Because all those things you haue done of late
By your power Legatine within this Kingdome,
Fall into 'th' compasse of a Premunire;
That therefore such a Writ be sued against you,
To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements,
Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be
Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge
   Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations
How to liue better. For your stubborne answer
About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs,
The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you.
So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.
Exeunt. all but Wolsey.
  Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me.
Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse.
This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth
The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes,
And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him:
The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost,
And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely
His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote,
And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd
Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders:
This many Summers in a Sea of Glory,
But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride
At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me
Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy
Of a rude streame, that must for euer hide me.
Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye,
I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched
Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours?
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too,
That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine,
More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue;
And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer,
Neuer to hope againe.
Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.
Why how now Cromwell?
  Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir
   Car. What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder
A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep
I am falne indeed
   Crom. How does your Grace
   Card. Why well:
Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell,
I know my selfe now, and I feele within me,
A peace aboue all earthly Dignities,
A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me,
I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shoulders
These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, taken
A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.)
O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden
Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen
   Crom. I am glad your Grace,
Ha's made that right vse of it
   Card. I hope I haue:
I am able now (me thinkes)
(Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele)
To endure more Miseries, and greater farre
Then my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer.
What Newes abroad?
  Crom. The heauiest, and the worst,
Is your displeasure with the King
   Card. God blesse him
   Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosen
Lord Chancellor, in your place
   Card. That's somewhat sodain.
But he's a Learned man. May he continue
Long in his Highnesse fauour, and do Iustice
For Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones,
When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in Blessings,
May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him.
  Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome;
Install'd Lord Arch-byshop of Canterbury
   Card. That's Newes indeed
   Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,
Whom the King hath in secrecie long married,
This day was view'd in open, as his Queene,
Going to Chappell: and the voyce is now
Onely about her Corronation
   Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe.
The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories
In that one woman, I haue lost for euer.
No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors,
Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted
Vpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel,
I am a poore falne man, vnworthy now
To be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King
(That Sun, I pray may neuer set) I haue told him,
What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee:
Some little memory of me, will stirre him
(I know his Noble Nature) not to let
Thy hopefull seruice perish too. Good Cromwell
Neglect him not; make vse now, and prouide
For thine owne future safety
   Crom. O my Lord,
Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgo
So good, so Noble, and so true a Master?
Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord.
The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayres
For euer, and for euer shall be yours
   Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teare
In all my Miseries: But thou hast forc'd me
(Out of thy honest truth) to play the Woman.
Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre heare me Cromwel,
And when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mention
Of me, more must be heard of: Say I taught thee;
Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of Glory,
And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor,
Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rise in:
A sure, and safe one, though thy Master mist it.
Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me:
Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition,
By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then
(The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it?
Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more then Honesty.
Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace
To silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not;
Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries,
Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell)
Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr.
Serue the King: And prythee leade me in:
There take an Inuentory of all I haue,
To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe,
And my Integrity to Heauen, is all,
I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel,
Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the Zeale
I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age
Haue left me naked to mine Enemies
   Crom. Good Sir, haue patience
   Card. So I haue. Farewell
The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.
  1 Y'are well met once againe
   2 So are you
   1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold
The Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation
   2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter,
The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall
   1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow,
This generall ioy
   2 'Tis well: The Citizens
I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds,
As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forward
In Celebration of this day with Shewes,
Pageants, and Sights of Honor
   1 Neuer greater,
Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir
   2 May I be bold to aske what that containes,
That Paper in your hand
   1 Yes, 'tis the List
Of those that claime their Offices this day,
By custome of the Coronation.
The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes
To be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke,
He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest
   1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs,
I should haue beene beholding to your Paper:
But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine
The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse?
  1 That I can tell you too. The Archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order,
Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles off
From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to which
She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not:
And to be short, for not Appearance, and
The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent
Of all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd,
And the late Marriage made of none effect:
Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton,
Where she remaines now sicke
   2 Alas good Lady.
The Trumpets sound: Stand close,
The Queene is comming.
Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish of
Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before
Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing the
Garter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt
Crowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his
Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing the
Siluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars of
Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head,
a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of
Norfolke, with
the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8
Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in
Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each
the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of
in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes
Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold,
Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State,
then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.
  2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know:
Who's that that beares the Scepter?
  1 Marquesse Dorset,
And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod
   2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee
The Duke of Suffolke
   1 'Tis the same: high Steward
   2 And that my Lord of Norfolke?
   2 Heauen blesse thee,
Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on.
Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell;
Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes,
And more, and richer, when he straines that Lady,
I cannot blame his Conscience
   1 They that beare
The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons
Of the Cinque-Ports
   2 Those men are happy,
And so are all, are neere her.
I take it, she that carries vp the Traine,
Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke
   1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses
   2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed,
And sometimes falling ones
   2 No more of that.
Enter a third Gentleman.
  1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling?
  3 Among the crowd i'th' Abbey, where a finger
Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled
With the meere ranknesse of their ioy
   2 You saw the Ceremony?
  3 That I did
   1 How was it?
  3 Well worth the seeing
   2 Good Sir, speake it to vs?
  3 As well as I am able. The rich streame
Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene
To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off
A distance from her; while her Grace sate downe
To rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so,
In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely
The Beauty of her Person to the People.
Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman
That euer lay by man: which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noyse arose,
As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest,
As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes,
(Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces
Bin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioy
I neuer saw before. Great belly'd women,
That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes
In the old time of Warre, would shake the prease
And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing
Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen
So strangely in one peece
   2 But what follow'd?
  3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces
Came to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint-like
Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly.
Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people:
When by the Arch-byshop of Canterbury,
She had all the Royall makings of a Queene;
As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne,
The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes
Laid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the Quire
With all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full State pac'd backe againe
To Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held
You must no more call it Yorke-place, that's past:
For since the Cardinall fell, that Titles lost,
'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White-Hall
   3 I know it:
But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh about me
   2 What two Reuerend Byshops
Were those that went on each side of the Queene?
  3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester,
Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary:
The other London
   2 He of Winchester
Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops,
The vertuous Cranmer
   3 All the Land knowes that:
How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes
Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him
   2 Who may that be, I pray you
   3 Thomas Cromwell,
A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly
A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him
Master o'th' Iewell House,
And one already of the Priuy Councell
   2 He will deserue more
   3 Yes without all doubt.
Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way,
Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests:
Something I can command. As I walke thither,
Ile tell ye more
   Both. You may command vs Sir.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her
Vsher, and Patience her Woman.
  Grif. How do's your Grace?
  Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death:
My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th' Earth,
Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire,
So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease.
Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee,
That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey
  Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace
Out of the paine you suffer'd, gaue no eare too't
   Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de.
If well, he stept before me happily
For my example
   Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam,
For after the stout Earle Northumberland
Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward
As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer,
He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill
He could not sit his Mule
   Kath. Alas poore man
   Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester,
Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot
With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him;
To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot,
An old man, broken with the stormes of State,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye:
Giue him a little earth for Charity.
So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse
Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this,
About the houre of eight, which he himselfe
Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance,
Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes,
He gaue his Honors to the world agen,
His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace
   Kath. So may he rest,
His Faults lye gently on him:
Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him,
And yet with Charity. He was a man
Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking
Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion
Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play,
His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence
He would say vntruths, and be euer double
Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer
(But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull.
His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty:
But his performance, as he is now, Nothing:
Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue
The Clergy ill example
   Grif. Noble Madam:
Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues
We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse
To heare me speake his good now?
  Kath. Yes good Griffith,
I were malicious else
   Grif. This Cardinall,
Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle
He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one:
Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading:
Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd him not:
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer.
And though he were vnsatisfied in getting,
(Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam,
He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him
Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you,
Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him,
Vnwilling to out-liue the good that did it.
The other (though vnfinish'd) yet so Famous,
So excellent in Art, and still so rising,
That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue.
His Ouerthrow, heap'd Happinesse vpon him:
For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe,
And found the Blessednesse of being little.
And to adde greater Honors to his Age
Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God
   Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald,
No other speaker of my liuing Actions,
To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption,
But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated Liuing, thou hast made mee
With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie,
(Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him.
Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower,
I haue not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the Musitians play me that sad note
I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating
On that Coelestiall Harmony I go too.
Sad and solemne Musicke.
  Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet,
For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.
The Vision. Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe
clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes,
Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands.
first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first
hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make
Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliuer the same to
next two, who obserue the same order in their Changes, and
Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland
last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it
inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and
her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the
with them. The Musicke continues.
  Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leaue me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye?
  Grif. Madam, we are heere
   Kath. It is not you I call for,
Saw ye none enter since I slept?
  Grif. None Madam
   Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope
Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces
Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun?
They promis'd me eternall Happinesse,
And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele
I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly
   Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames
Possesse your Fancy
   Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue,
They are harsh and heauy to me.
Musicke ceases.
  Pati. Do you note
How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine?
How long her face is drawne? How pale she lookes,
And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes?
  Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray
   Pati. Heauen comfort her.
Enter a Messenger.
  Mes. And't like your Grace -
  Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow,
Deserue we no more Reuerence?
  Grif. You are too blame,
Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse
To vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele
   Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon,
My hast made me vnmannerly. There is staying
A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you
   Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow
Let me ne're see againe.
Exit Messeng.
Enter Lord Capuchius.
If my sight faile not,
You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,
My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius
   Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant
   Kath. O my Lord,
The Times and Titles now are alter'd strangely
With me, since first you knew me.
But I pray you,
What is your pleasure with me?
  Cap. Noble Lady,
First mine owne seruice to your Grace, the next
The Kings request, that I would visit you,
Who greeues much for your weaknesse, and by me
Sends you his Princely Commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort
   Kath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late,
'Tis like a Pardon after Execution;
That gentle Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me:
But now I am past all Comforts heere, but Prayers.
How does his Highnesse?
  Cap. Madam, in good health
   Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish,
When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name
Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?
  Pat. No Madam
   Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer
This to my Lord the King
   Cap. Most willing Madam
   Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse
The Modell of our chaste loues: his yong daughter,
The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Blessings on her,
Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding.
She is yong, and of a Noble modest Nature,
I hope she will deserue well; and a little
To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him,
Heauen knowes how deerely.
My next poore Petition,
Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie
Vpon my wretched women, that so long
Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,
Of which there is not one, I dare auow
(And now I should not lye) but will deserue
For Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule,
For honestie, and decent Carriage
A right good Husband (let him be a Noble)
And sure those men are happy that shall haue 'em.
The last is for my men, they are the poorest,
(But pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me)
That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em,
And something ouer to remember me by.
If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life
And able meanes, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord,
By that you loue the deerest in this world,
As you wish Christian peace to soules departed,
Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King
To do me this last right
   Cap. By Heauen I will,
Or let me loose the fashion of a man
   Kath. I thanke you honest Lord. Remember me
In all humilitie vnto his Highnesse:
Say his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world. Tell him in death I blest him
(For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell
My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience,
You must not leaue me yet. I must to bed,
Call in more women. When I am dead, good Wench,
Let me be vs'd with Honor; strew me ouer
With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste Wife, to my Graue: Embalme me,
Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet like
A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me.
I can no more.
Exeunt. leading Katherine.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before
by Sir Thomas Louell.
  Gard. It's one a clocke Boy, is't not
   Boy. It hath strooke
   Gard. These should be houres for necessities,
Not for delights: Times to repayre our Nature
With comforting repose, and not for vs
To waste these times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas:
Whether so late?
  Lou. Came you from the King, my Lord?
  Gar. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero
With the Duke of Suffolke
   Lou. I must to him too
Before he go to bed. Ile take my leaue
   Gard. Not yet Sir Thomas Louell: what's the matter?
It seemes you are in hast: and if there be
No great offence belongs too't, giue your Friend
Some touch of your late businesse: Affaires that walke
(As they say Spirits do) at midnight, haue
In them a wilder Nature, then the businesse
That seekes dispatch by day
   Lou. My Lord, I loue you;
And durst commend a secret to your eare
Much waightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor
They say in great Extremity, and fear'd
Shee'l with the Labour, end
   Gard. The fruite she goes with
I pray for heartily, that it may finde
Good time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas,
I wish it grubb'd vp now
   Lou. Me thinkes I could
Cry the Amen, and yet my Conscience sayes
Shee's a good Creature, and sweet-Ladie do's
Deserue our better wishes
   Gard. But Sir, Sir,
Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman
Of mine owne way. I know you Wise, Religious,
And let me tell you, it will ne're be well,
'Twill not Sir Thomas Louell, tak't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwel, her two hands, and shee
Sleepe in their Graues
   Louell. Now Sir, you speake of two
The most remark'd i'th' Kingdome: as for Cromwell,
Beside that of the Iewell-House, is made Master
O'th' Rolles, and the Kings Secretary. Further Sir,
Stands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments,
With which the Lime will loade him. Th' Archbyshop
Is the Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare speak
One syllable against him?
  Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that Dare, and I my selfe haue ventur'd
To speake my minde of him: and indeed this day,
Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haue
Incenst the Lords o'th' Councell, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is)
A most Arch-Heretique, a Pestilence
That does infect the Land: with which, they moued
Haue broken with the King, who hath so farre
Giuen eare to our Complaint, of his great Grace,
And Princely Care, fore-seeing those fell Mischiefes,
Our Reasons layd before him, hath commanded
To morrow Morning to the Councell Boord
He be conuented. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your Affaires
I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas.
Exit Gardiner and Page.
  Lou. Many good nights, my Lord, I rest your seruant.
Enter King and Suffolke.
  King. Charles, I will play no more to night,
My mindes not on't, you are too hard for me
   Suff. Sir, I did neuer win of you before
   King. But little Charles,
Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play.
Now Louel, from the Queene what is the Newes
   Lou. I could not personally deliuer to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman,
I sent your Message, who return'd her thankes
In the great'st humblenesse, and desir'd your Highnesse
Most heartily to pray for her
   King. What say'st thou? Ha?
To pray for her? What is she crying out?
  Lou. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made
Almost each pang, a death
   King. Alas good Lady
   Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and
With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of
Your Highnesse with an Heire
   King. 'Tis midnight Charles,
Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember
Th' estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone,
For I must thinke of that, which company
Would not be friendly too
   Suf. I wish your Highnesse
A quiet night, and my good Mistris will
Remember in my Prayers
   King. Charles good night.
Exit Suffolke.
Well Sir, what followes?
Enter Sir Anthony Denny.
  Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch-byshop,
As you commanded me
   King. Ha? Canterbury?
  Den. I my good Lord
   King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny?
  Den. He attends your Highnesse pleasure
   King. Bring him to Vs
   Lou. This is about that, which the Byshop spake,
I am happily come hither.
Enter Cranmer and Denny.
  King. Auoyd the Gallery.
Louel seemes to stay.
Ha? I haue said. Be gone.
Exeunt. Louell and Denny.
  Cran. I am fearefull: Wherefore frownes he thus?
'Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well
   King. How now my Lord?
You do desire to know wherefore
I sent for you
   Cran. It is my dutie
T' attend your Highnesse pleasure
   King. Pray you arise
My good and gracious Lord of Canterburie:
Come, you and I must walke a turne together:
I haue Newes to tell you.
Come, come, giue me your hand.
Ah my good Lord, I greeue at what I speake,
And am right sorrie to repeat what followes.
I haue, and most vnwillingly of late
Heard many greeuous, I do say my Lord
Greeuous complaints of you; which being consider'd,
Haue mou'd Vs, and our Councell, that you shall
This Morning come before vs, where I know
You cannot with such freedome purge your selfe,
But that till further Triall, in those Charges
Which will require your Answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Towre: you, a Brother of vs
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witnesse
Would come against you
   Cran. I humbly thanke your Highnesse,
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnowed, where my Chaffe
And Corne shall flye asunder. For I know
There's none stands vnder more calumnious tongues,
Then I my selfe, poore man
   King. Stand vp, good Canterbury,
Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted
In vs thy Friend. Giue me thy hand, stand vp,
Prythee let's walke. Now by my Holydame,
What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd
You would haue giuen me your Petition, that
I should haue tane some paines, to bring together
Your selfe, and your Accusers, and to haue heard you
Without indurance further
   Cran. Most dread Liege,
The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honestie:
If they shall faile, I with mine Enemies
Will triumph o're my person, which I waigh not,
Being of those Vertues vacant. I feare nothing
What can be said against me
   King. Know you not
How your state stands i'th' world, with the whole world?
Your Enemies are many, and not small; their practises
Must beare the same proportion, and not euer
The Iustice and the Truth o'th' question carries
The dew o'th' Verdict with it; at what ease
Might corrupt mindes procure, Knaues as corrupt
To sweare against you: Such things haue bene done.
You are Potently oppos'd, and with a Malice
Of as great Size. Weene you of better lucke,
I meane in periur'd Witnesse, then your Master,
Whose Minister you are, whiles heere he liu'd
Vpon this naughty Earth? Go too, go too,
You take a Precepit for no leape of danger,
And woe your owne destruction
   Cran. God, and your Maiesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me
   King. Be of good cheere,
They shall no more preuaile, then we giue way too:
Keepe comfort to you, and this Morning see
You do appeare before them. If they shall chance
In charging you with matters, to commit you:
The best perswasions to the contrary
Faile not to vse, and with what vehemencie
Th' occasion shall instruct you. If intreaties
Will render you no remedy, this Ring
Deliuer them, and your Appeale to vs
There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps:
He's honest on mine Honor. Gods blest Mother,
I sweare he is true-hearted, and a soule
None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone,
And do as I haue bid you.
Exit Cranmer.
He ha's strangled his Language in his teares.
Enter Olde Lady.
  Gent. within. Come backe: what meane you?
  Lady. Ile not come backe, the tydings that I bring
Will make my boldnesse, manners. Now good Angels
Fly o're thy Royall head, and shade thy person
Vnder their blessed wings
   King. Now by thy lookes
I gesse thy Message. Is the Queene deliuer'd?
Say I, and of a boy
   Lady. I, I my Liege,
And of a louely Boy: the God of heauen
Both now, and euer blesse her: 'Tis a Gyrle
Promises Boyes heereafter. Sir, your Queen
Desires your Visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you,
As Cherry, is to Cherry
   King. Louell
   King. Giue her an hundred Markes.
Ile to the Queene.
  Lady. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile ha more.
An ordinary Groome is for such payment.
I will haue more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the Gyrle was like to him? Ile
Haue more, or else vnsay't: and now, while 'tis hot,
Ile put it to the issue.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Cranmer, Archbyshop of Canterbury.
  Cran. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman
That was sent to me from the Councell, pray'd me
To make great hast. All fast? What meanes this? Hoa?
Who waites there? Sure you know me?
Enter Keeper.
  Keep. Yes, my Lord:
But yet I cannot helpe you
   Cran. Why?
  Keep. Your Grace must waight till you be call'd for.
Enter Doctor Buts.
   Buts. This is a Peere of Malice: I am glad
I came this way so happily. The King
Shall vnderstand it presently.
  Cran. 'Tis Buts.
The Kings Physitian, as he past along
How earnestly he cast his eyes vpon me:
Pray heauen he found not my disgrace: for certaine
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me,
(God turne their hearts, I neuer sought their malice)
To quench mine Honor; they would shame to make me
Wait else at doore: a fellow Councellor
'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyes.
But their pleasures
Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.
Enter the King, and Buts, at a Windowe aboue.
  Buts. Ile shew your Grace the strangest sight
   King. What's that Buts?
  Butts. I thinke your Highnesse saw this many a day
   Kin. Body a me: where is it?
  Butts. There my Lord:
The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his State at dore 'mongst Purseuants,
Pages, and Foot-boyes
   Kin. Ha? 'Tis he indeed.
Is this the Honour they doe one another?
'Tis well there's one aboue 'em yet; I had thought
They had parted so much honesty among 'em,
At least good manners; as not thus to suffer
A man of his Place, and so neere our fauour
To dance attendance on their Lordships pleasures,
And at the dore too, like a Post with Packets:
By holy Mary (Butts) there's knauery;
Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine close:
We shall heare more anon.
A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stooles, and placed
the State. Enter Lord Chancellour, places himselfe at the vpper end
Table, on the left hand: A Seate being left void aboue him, as for
Canterburies Seate. Duke of Suffolke, Duke of Norfolke, Surrey,
Chamberlaine, Gardiner, seat themselues in Order on each side.
lower end, as Secretary.
  Chan. Speake to the businesse, M[aster]. Secretary;
Why are we met in Councell?
  Crom. Please your Honours,
The chiefe cause concernes his Grace of Canterbury
   Gard. Ha's he had knowledge of it?
   Norf. Who waits there?
  Keep. Without my Noble Lords?
   Keep. My Lord Archbishop:
And ha's done halfe an houre to know your pleasures
   Chan. Let him come in
   Keep. Your Grace may enter now.
Cranmer approches the Councell Table.
  Chan. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry
To sit heere at this present, and behold
That Chayre stand empty: But we all are men
In our owne natures fraile, and capable
Of our flesh, few are Angels; out of which frailty
And want of wisedome, you that best should teach vs,
Haue misdemean'd your selfe, and not a little:
Toward the King first, then his Lawes, in filling
The whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines
(For so we are inform'd) with new opinions,
Diuers and dangerous; which are Heresies;
And not reform'd, may proue pernicious
   Gard. Which Reformation must be sodaine too
My Noble Lords; for those that tame wild Horses,
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle;
But stop their mouthes with stubborn Bits & spurre 'em,
Till they obey the mannage. If we suffer
Out of our easinesse and childish pitty
To one mans Honour, this contagious sicknesse;
Farewell all Physicke: and what followes then?
Commotions, vprores, with a generall Taint
Of the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours,
The vpper Germany can deerely witnesse:
Yet freshly pittied in our memories
   Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progresse
Both of my Life and Office, I haue labour'd,
And with no little study, that my teaching
And the strong course of my Authority,
Might goe one way, and safely; and the end
Was euer to doe well: nor is there liuing,
(I speake it with a single heart, my Lords)
A man that more detests, more stirres against,
Both in his priuate Conscience, and his place,
Defacers of a publique peace then I doe:
Pray Heauen the King may neuer find a heart
With lesse Allegeance in it. Men that make
Enuy, and crooked malice, nourishment;
Dare bite the best. I doe beseech your, Lordships,
That in this case of Iustice, my Accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely vrge against me
   Suff. Nay, my Lord,
That cannot be; you are a Counsellor,
And by that vertue no man dare accuse you
   Gard. My Lord, because we haue busines of more moment,
We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highnesse pleasure
And our consent, for better tryall of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower,
Where being but a priuate man againe,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More then (I feare) you are prouided for
   Cran. Ah my good Lord of Winchester: I thanke you,
You are alwayes my good Friend, if your will passe,
I shall both finde your Lordship, Iudge and Iuror,
You are so mercifull. I see your end,
'Tis my vndoing. Loue and meekenesse, Lord
Become a Churchman, better then Ambition:
Win straying Soules with modesty againe,
Cast none away: That I shall cleere my selfe,
Lay all the weight ye can vpon my patience,
I make as little doubt as you doe conscience,
In doing dayly wrongs. I could say more,
But reuerence to your calling, makes me modest
   Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary,
That's the plaine truth; your painted glosse discouers
To men that vnderstand you, words and weaknesse
   Crom. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little,
By your good fauour, too sharpe; Men so Noble,
How euer faulty, yet should finde respect
For what they haue beene: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man
   Gard. Good M[aster]. Secretary,
I cry your Honour mercie; you may worst
Of all this Table say so
   Crom. Why my Lord?
  Gard. Doe not I know you for a Fauourer
Of this new Sect? ye are not sound
   Crom. Not sound?
  Gard. Not sound I say
   Crom. Would you were halfe so honest:
Mens prayers then would seeke you, not their feares
   Gard. I shall remember this bold Language
   Crom. Doe.
Remember your bold life too
   Cham. This is too much;
Forbeare for shame my Lords
   Gard. I haue done
   Crom. And I
   Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed
I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith,
You be conuaid to th' Tower a Prisoner;
There to remaine till the Kings further pleasure
Be knowne vnto vs: are you all agreed Lords
   All. We are
   Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords?
  Gard. What other,
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome:
Let some o'th' Guard be ready there.
Enter the Guard.
  Cran. For me?
Must I goe like a Traytor thither?
  Gard. Receiue him,
And see him safe i'th' Tower
   Cran. Stay good my Lords,
I haue a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords,
By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it
To a most Noble Iudge, the King my Maister
   Cham. This is the Kings Ring
   Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit
   Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling,
'Twold fall vpon our selues
   Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords
The King will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd?
  Cham. Tis now too certaine;
How much more is his Life in value with him?
Would I were fairely out on't
   Crom. My mind gaue me,
In seeking tales and Informations
Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell
And his Disciples onely enuy at,
Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye.
Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seate.
  Gard. Dread Soueraigne,
How much are we bound to Heauen,
In dayly thankes, that gaue vs such a Prince;
Not onely good and wise, but most religious:
One that in all obedience, makes the Church
The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen
That holy duty out of deare respect,
His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare
The cause betwixt her, and this great offender
   Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not
To heare such flattery now, and in my presence
They are too thin, and base to hide offences,
To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell,
And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me:
But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure
Thou hast a cruell Nature and a bloody.
Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest
Hee, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee.
By all that's holy, he had better starue,
Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not
   Sur. May it please your Grace; -
  Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me,
I had thought, I had had men of some vnderstanding,
And wisedome of my Councell; but I finde none:
Was it discretion Lords, to let this man,
This good man (few of you deserue that Title)
This honest man, wait like a lowsie Foot-boy
At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission
Bid ye so farre forget your selues? I gaue ye
Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him,
Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see,
More out of Malice then Integrity,
Would trye him to the vtmost, had ye meane,
Which ye shall neuer haue while I liue
   Chan. Thus farre
My most dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace,
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather
(If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall,
And faire purgation to the world then malice,
I'm sure in me
   Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him,
Take him, and vse him well; hee's worthy of it.
I will say thus much for him, if a Prince
May be beholding to a Subiect; I
Am for his loue and seruice, so to him.
Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him;
Be friends for shame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury
I haue a Suite which you must not deny mee.
That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme,
You must be Godfather, and answere for her
   Cran. The greatest Monarch now aliue may glory
In such an honour: how may I deserue it,
That am a poore and humble Subiect to you?
  Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoones;
You shall haue two noble Partners with you: the old
Duchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will
these please you?
Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you
Embrace, and loue this man
   Gard. With a true heart,
And Brother; loue I doe it
   Cran. And let Heauen
Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation
   Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true hearts,
The common voyce I see is verified
Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury
A shrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer:
Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long
To haue this young one made a Christian.
As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine:
So I grow stronger, you more Honour gaine.
Scena Tertia.
Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.
  Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe
you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues,
leaue your gaping
   Within. Good M[aster]. Porter I belong to th' Larder
   Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue:
Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree
staues, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em:
Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings?
Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude
  Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible,
Vnlesse wee sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons,
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe
On May-day Morning, which will neuer be:
We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em
   Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?
  Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in?
As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote,
(You see the poore remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare Sir
   Port. You did nothing Sir
   Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand,
To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker:
Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe,
And that I would not for a Cow, God saue her
   Within. Do you heare M[aster]. Porter?
  Port. I shall be with you presently, good M[aster]. Puppy,
Keepe the dore close Sirha
   Man. What would you haue me doe?
  Por. What should you doe,
But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields
to muster in? Or haue wee some strange Indian with the
great Toole, come to Court, the women so besiege vs?
Bless me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On my
Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a
thousand, here will bee Father, God-father, and all together
   Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is
a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brasier
by his face, for o' my conscience twenty of the Dogdayes
now reigne in's Nose; all that stand about him are
vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that FireDrake
did I hit three times on the head, and three times
was his Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there
like a Morter-piece to blow vs. There was a Habberdashers
Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me,
till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for kindling
such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once,
and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I
might see from farre, some forty Truncheoners draw to
her succour, which were the hope o'th' Strond where she
was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at
length they came to th' broome staffe to me, I defide 'em
stil, when sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot,
deliuer'd such a showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to
draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the
Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely
   Por. These are the youths that thunder at a Playhouse,
and fight for bitten Apples, that no Audience but the
tribulation of Tower Hill, or the Limbes of Limehouse,
their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue some of
'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance
these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two
Beadles, that is to come.
Enter Lord Chamberlaine.
  Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Multitude are heere?
They grow still too; from all Parts they are comming,
As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are these Porters?
These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes?
Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these
Your faithfull friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall haue
Great store of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies,
When they passe backe from the Christening?
  Por. And't please your Honour,
We are but men; and what so many may doe,
Not being torne a pieces, we haue done:
An Army cannot rule 'em
   Cham. As I liue,
If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all
By th' heeles, and sodainly: and on your heads
Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues,
And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when
Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound,
Th'are come already from the Christening,
Go breake among the preasse, and finde away out
To let the Troope passe fairely; or Ile finde
A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes
   Por. Make way there, for the Princesse
   Man. You great fellow,
Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake
   Por. You i'th' Chamblet, get vp o'th' raile,
Ile pecke you o're the pales else.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior,
Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of
Suffolke, two
Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening
Guifts: Then
foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of
Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c.
Traine borne
by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other
Godmother, and
Ladies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garter
  Gart. Heauen
From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life,
Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty
Princesse of England Elizabeth.
Flourish. Enter King and Guard.
  Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,
My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray
All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady,
Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy,
May hourely fall vpon ye
   Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop:
What is her Name?
  Cran. Elizabeth
   Kin. Stand vp Lord,
With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee,
Into whose hand, I giue thy Life
   Cran. Amen
   Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall;
I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady,
When she ha's so much English
   Cran. Let me speake Sir,
For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter,
Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth.
This Royall Infant, Heauen still moue about her;
Though in her Cradle; yet now promises
Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings,
Which Time shall bring to ripenesse: She shall be,
(But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse)
A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her,
And all that shall succeed: Saba was neuer
More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue
Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces
That mould vp such a mighty Piece as this is,
With all the Vertues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her,
Holy and Heauenly thoughts still Counsell her:
She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her;
Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne,
And hang their heads with sorrow:
Good growes with her.
In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety,
Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing
The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
God shall be truely knowne, and those about her,
From her shall read the perfect way of Honour,
And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood.
Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when
The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix,
Her Ashes new create another Heyre,
As great in admiration as her selfe.
So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One,
(When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes)
Who, from the sacred Ashes of her Honour
Shall Star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Loue, Truth, Terror,
That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant,
Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine,
His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name,
Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish,
And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
Shall see this, and blesse Heauen
   Kin. Thou speakest wonders
   Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England,
An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it.
Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye,
She must, the Saints must haue her; yet a Virgin,
A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe
To th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her
   Kin. O Lord Archbishop
Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before
This happy Child, did I get any thing.
This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me,
That when I am in Heauen, I shall desire
To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker.
I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior,
And you good Brethren, I am much beholding:
I haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords,
Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye,
She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke
'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay:
This Little-One shall make it Holy-day.
  THE EPILOGVE. Tis ten to one, this Play can neuer please
All that are heere: Some come to take their ease,
And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feare
W'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare,
They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the City
Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,
Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare
All the expected good w'are like to heare.
For this Play at this time, is onely in
The mercifull construction of good women,
For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile,
And say twill doe; I know within a while,
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap,
If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em clap.
FINIS. The Famous History of the Life of King HENRY the Eight.
                       SENECA
                  APOCOLOCYNTOSIS
          WITH AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY
            W.H.D. ROUSE, M.A. LITT. D.
                       MCMXX
INTRODUCTION
This piece is ascribed to Seneca by ancient tradition; it is impossible
to prove that it is his, and impossible to prove that it is not. The
matter will probably continue to be decided by every one according to his
view of Seneca's character and abilities: in the matters of style and of
sentiment much may be said on both sides. Dion Cassius (lx, 35) says that
Seneca composed an [Greek: apokolokuntosis] or Pumpkinification of
Claudius after his death, the title being a parody of the usual
[Greek: apotheosis]; but this title is not given in the MSS. of the Ludus
de Morte Claudii, nor is there anything in the piece which suits the title
As a literary form, the piece belongs to the class called
_Satura Menippea_, a satiric medley in prose and verse.
This text is that of Buecheler, with a few trifling changes, which are
indicated in the notes. We have been courteously allowed by Messrs
Weidmann to use this text. I have to acknowledge the help of Mr Ball's
notes, from which I have taken a few references; but my translation was
made many years ago.
W.H.D. ROUSE.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
_Editio Princeps:_ Lucii Annaei Senecae in morte
  Claudii Caesaris Ludus nuper repertus: Rome,
_Latest critical text:_ Franz Buecheler, Weidmann, 1904
  (a reprint with a few changes of the text from
  a larger work, Divi Claudii [Greek: Apokolokuntosis] in
  the Symbola Philologorum Bonnensium, fasc. i,
_Translations and helps:_ The Satire of Seneca on the
  Apotheosis of Claudius, by A.P. Ball (with introduction,
  notes, and translations): New York:
  Columbia University Press; London, Macmillan,
APOCOLOCYNTOSIS, OR LUDUS DE MORTE CLAUDII: THE PUMPKINIFICATION OF
I wish to place on record the proceedings in heaven                       1
October 13 last, of the new year which begins this auspicious age. It
shall be done without malice or favour. This is the truth. Ask if you like
how I know it? To begin with, I am not bound to please you with my answer.
Who will compel me? I know the same day made me free, which was the last
day for him who made the proverb true--One must be born either a Pharaoh
or a fool. If I choose to answer, I will say whatever trips off my tongue.
Who has ever made the historian produce witness to swear for him? But if
an authority must be produced, ask of the man who saw Drusilla translated
to heaven: the same man will aver he saw Claudius on the road, dot and
carry one. [Sidenote: Virg. Aen. ii, 724] Will he nill he, all that happens
in heaven he needs must see. He is the custodian of the Appian Way; by that
route, you know, both Tiberius and Augustus went up to the gods. Question
him, he will tell you the tale when you are alone; before company he is
dumb. You see he swore in the Senate that he beheld Drusilla mounting
heavenwards, and all he got for his good news was that everybody gave him
the lie: since when he solemnly swears he will never bear witness again to
what he has seen, not even if he had seen a man murdered in open market.
What he told me I report plain and clear, as I hope for his health and
  Now had the sun with shorter course drawn in his risen light,           2
  And by equivalent degrees grew the dark hours of night:
  Victorious Cynthia now held sway over a wider space,
  Grim winter drove rich autumn out, and now usurped his place;
  And now the fiat had gone forth that Bacchus must grow old,
  The few last clusters of the vine were gathered ere the cold:
I shall make myself better understood, if I say the month was October, the
day was the thirteenth. What hour it was I cannot certainly tell;
philosophers will agree more often than clocks; but it was between midday
and one after noon. "Clumsy creature!" you say. "The poets are not content
to describe sunrise and sunset, and now they even disturb the midday
siesta. Will you thus neglect so good an hour?"
  Now the sun's chariot had gone by the middle of his way;
  Half wearily he shook the reins, nearer to night than day,
  And led the light along the slope that down before him lay.
Claudius began to breathe his last, and could not                         3
make an end of the matter. Then Mercury, who had always been much pleased
with his wit, drew aside one of the three Fates, and said: "Cruel beldame,
why do you let the poor wretch be tormented? After all this torture cannot
he have a rest? Four and sixty years it is now since he began to pant for
breath. What grudge is this you bear against him and the whole empire? Do
let the astrologers tell the truth for once; since he became emperor, they
have never let a year pass, never a month, without laying him out for his
burial. Yet it is no wonder if they are wrong, and no one knows his hour.
Nobody ever believed he was really quite born. [Footnote: A proverb for a
nobody, as Petron, 58 _qui te natum non putat._] Do what has to be done:
Kill him, and let a better man rule in empty court."
[Sidenote: Virg. Georg iv. 90]
Clotho replied: "Upon my word, I did wish to give him another hour or two,
until he should make Roman citizens of the half dozen who are still
outsiders. (He made up his mind, you know, to see the whole world in the
toga, Greeks, Gauls, Spaniards, Britons, and all.) But since it is your
pleasure to leave a few foreigners for seed, and since you command me, so
be it." She opened her box and out came three spindles. One was for
Augurinus, one for Baba, one for Claudius. [Footnote: "Augurinus" unknown.
Baba: see Sep. Ep. 159, a fool.] "These three," she says, "I will cause to
die within one year and at no great distance apart, and I will not dismiss
him unattended. Think of all the thousands of men he was wont to see
following after him, thousands going before, thousands all crowding about
him, and it would never do to leave him alone on a sudden. These boon
companions will satisfy him for the nonce."
  This said, she twists the thread around his ugly spindle once,          4
  Snaps off the last bit of the life of that Imperial dunce.
  But Lachesis, her hair adorned, her tresses neatly bound,
  Pierian laurel on her locks, her brows with garlands crowned,
  Plucks me from out the snowy wool new threads as white as snow,
  Which handled with a happy touch change colour as they go,
  Not common wool, but golden wire; the Sisters wondering gaze,
  As age by age the pretty thread runs down the golden days.
  World without end they spin away, the happy fleeces pull;
  What joy they take to fill their hands with that delightful wool!
  Indeed, the task performs itself: no toil the spinners know:
  Down drops the soft and silken thread as round the spindles go;
  Fewer than these are Tithon's years, not Nestor's life so long.
  Phoebus is present: glad he is to sing a merry song;
  Now helps the work, now full of hope upon the harp doth play;
  The Sisters listen to the song that charms their toil away.
  They praise their brother's melodies, and still the spindles run,
  Till more than man's allotted span the busy hands have spun.
  Then Phoebus says, "O sister Fates! I pray take none away,
  But suffer this one life to be longer than mortal day.
  Like me in face and lovely grace, like me in voice and song,
  He'll bid the laws at length speak out that have been dumb so long,
  Will give unto the weary world years prosperous and bright.
  Like as the daystar from on high scatters the stars of night,
  As, when the stars return again, clear Hesper brings his light,
  Or as the ruddy dawn drives out the dark, and brings the day,
  As the bright sun looks on the world, and speeds along its way
  His rising car from morning's gates: so Caesar doth arise,
  So Nero shows his face to Rome before the people's eyes,
  His bright and shining countenance illumines all the air,
  While down upon his graceful neck fall rippling waves of hair."
  Thus Apollo. But Lachesis, quite as ready to cast a
  favourable eye on a handsome man, spins away by the
  handful, and bestows years and years upon Nero out
  of her own pocket. As for Claudius, they tell everybody
                     to speed him on his way
         With cries of joy and solemn litany.
At once he bubbled up the ghost, and there was an end to that shadow of a
life. He was listening to a troupe of comedians when he died, so you see I
have reason to fear those gentry. The last words he was heard to speak in
this world were these. When he had made a great noise with that end of him
which talked easiest, he cried out, "Oh dear, oh dear! I think I have made
a mess of myself." Whether he did or no, I cannot say, but certain it is
he always did make a mess of everything.
What happened next on earth it is mere waste of                           5
time to tell, for you know it all well enough, and there is no fear of your
ever forgetting the impression which that public rejoicing made on your
memory. No one forgets his own happiness. What happened in heaven you shall
hear: for proof please apply to my informant. Word comes to Jupiter that a
stranger had arrived, a man well set up, pretty grey; he seemed to be
threatening something, for he wagged his head ceaselessly; he dragged the
right foot. They asked him what nation he was of; he answered something in
a confused mumbling voice: his language they did not understand. He was no
Greek and no Roman, nor of any known race. On this Jupiter bids Hercules go
and find out what country he comes from; you see Hercules had travelled
over the whole world, and might be expected to know all the nations in it.
But Hercules, the first glimpse he got, was really much taken aback,
although not all the monsters in the world could frighten him; when he saw
this new kind of object, with its extraordinary gait, and the voice of no
terrestrial beast, but such as you might hear in the leviathans of the
deep, hoarse and inarticulate, he thought his thirteenth labour had come
upon him. When he looked closer, the thing seemed to be a kind of man.
Up he goes, then, and says what your Greek finds readiest to his tongue:
  "Who art thou, and what thy people? Who thy
  parents, where thy home?"
  [Sidenote: Od. i, 17]
Claudius was delighted to find literary men up there, and began to hope
there might be some corner for his own historical works. So he caps him
with another Homeric verse, explaining that he was Caesar:
  "Breezes wafted me from Ilion unto the Ciconian land."
  [Sidenote: Od. ix, 39]
But the next verse was more true, and no less Homeric:
  "Thither come, I sacked a city, slew the people every one."
He would have taken in poor simple Hercules, but                          6
that Our Lady of Malaria was there, who left her temple and came alone with
him: all the other gods he had left at Rome. Quoth she, "The fellow's tale
is nothing but lies. I have lived with him all these years, and I tell you,
he was born at Lyons. You behold a fellow-burgess of Marcus. [Footnote:
Reference unknown.] As I say, he was born at the sixteenth milestone from
Vienne, a native Gaul. So of course he took Rome, as a good Gaul ought to
do. I pledge you my word that in Lyons he was born, where Licinus
[Footnote: A Gallic slave, appointed by Augustus Procurator of Gallia
Lugudunensis, when he made himself notorious by his extortions. See Dion
Cass. liv, 21.] was king so many years. But you that have trudged over more
roads than any muleteer that plies for hire, you must have come across the
people of Lyons, and you must know that it is a far cry from Xanthus to the
Rhone." At this point Claudius flared up, and expressed his wrath with as
big a growl as he could manage. What he said nobody understood; as a matter
of fact, he was ordering my lady of Fever to be taken away, and making that
sign with his trembling hand (which was always steady enough for that, if
for nothing else) by which he used to decapitate men. He had ordered her
head to be chopped off. For all the notice the others took of him, they
might have been his own freedmen.
Then Hercules said, "You just listen to me, and                           7
stop playing the fool. You have come to the place where the mice nibble
iron. [Footnote: A proverb, found also in Herondas iii, 76: apparently
fairy-land, the land of Nowhere.] Out with the truth, and look sharp, or
I'll knock your quips and quiddities out of you." Then to make himself all
the more awful, he strikes an attitude and proceeds in his most tragic
  "Declare with speed what spot you claim by birth.
  Or with this club fall stricken to the earth!
  This club hath ofttimes slaughtered haughty kings!
  Why mumble unintelligible things?
  What land, what tribe produced that shaking head?
  Declare it! On my journey when I sped
  Far to the Kingdom of the triple King,
  And from the Main Hesperian did bring
  The goodly cattle to the Argive town,
  There I beheld a mountain looking down
  Upon two rivers: this the Sun espies
  Right opposite each day he doth arise.
  Hence, mighty Rhone, thy rapid torrents flow,
  And Arar, much in doubt which way to go,
  Ripples along the banks with shallow roll.
  Say, is this land the nurse that bred thy soul?"
These lines he delivered with much spirit and a bold front. All the same,
he was not quite master of his wits, and had some fear of a blow from
the fool. Claudius, seeing a mighty man before him, saw things looked
serious and understood that here he had not quite the same pre-eminence
as at Rome, where no one was his equal: the Gallic cock was worth most on
his own dunghill. So this is what he was thought to say, as far as could
be made out: "I did hope, Hercules, bravest of all the gods, that you
would take my part with the rest, and if I should need a voucher, I meant
to name you who know me so well. Do but call it to mind, how it was I used
to sit in judgment before your temple whole days together during July and
August. You know what miseries I endured there, in hearing the lawyers
plead day and night. If you had fallen amongst these, you may think
yourself very strong, but you would have found it worse than the sewers of
Augeas: I drained out more filth than you did. But since I want..."
(Some pages have fallen out, in which Hercules must have been persuaded.
The gods are now discussing what Hercules tells them).
"No wonder you have forced your way into the                              8
Senate House: no bars or bolts can hold against you. Only do say what
species of god you want the fellow to be made. An Epicurean god he cannot
be: for they have no troubles and cause none. A Stoic, then? How can he be
globular, as Varro says, without a head or any other projection? There is
in him something of the Stoic god, as I can see now: he has neither heart
nor head. Upon my word, if he had asked this boon from Saturn, he would not
have got it, though he kept up Saturn's feast all the year round, a truly
Saturnalian prince. A likely thing he will get it from Jove, whom he
condemned for incest as far as in him lay: for he killed his son-in-law
Silanus, because Silanus had a sister, a most charming girl, called Venus
by all the world, and he preferred to call her Juno. Why, says he, I want
to know why, his own sister? Read your books, stupid: you may go half-way
at Athens, the whole way at Alexandria. Because the mice lick meal at Rome,
you say. Is this creature to mend our crooked ways? What goes on in his own
closet he knows not;[Footnote: Perhaps alluding to a mock marriage of
Silius and Messalina.] and now he searches the regions of the sky, wants to
be a god. Is it not enough that he has a temple in Britain, that savages
worship him and pray to him as a god, so that they may find a fool
[Footnote: Again [GREEK: morou] for [GREEK: theou] as in ch. 6.] to have
mercy upon them?"
At last it came into Jove's head, that while strangers                    9
were in the House it was not lawful to speak or debate. "My lords and
gentlemen," said he, "I gave you leave to ask questions, and you have made
a regular farmyard [Footnote: Proverb: meaning unknown.] of the place. Be
so good as to keep the rules of the House. What will this person think of
us, whoever he is?" So Claudius was led out, and the first to be asked his
opinion was Father Janus: he had been made consul elect for the afternoon
of the next first of July,[Footnote: Perhaps an allusion to the shortening
of the consul's term, which was done to give more candidates a chance of
the honour.] being as shrewd a man as you could find on a summer's day: for
he could see, as they say, before and behind. [Footnote 8: II, iii, 109;
alluding here to Janus's double face.] He made an eloquent harangue,
because his life was passed in the forum, but too fast for the notary to
take down. That is why I give no full report of it, for I don't want to
change the words he used. He said a great deal of the majesty of the gods,
and how the honour ought not to be given away to every Tom, Dick, or Harry.
"Once," said he, "it was a great thing to become a god; now you have made
it a farce. Therefore, that you may not think I am speaking against one
person instead of the general custom, I propose that from this day forward
the godhead be given to none of those who eat the fruits of the earth, or
whom mother earth doth nourish. After this bill has been read a third time,
whosoever is made, said, or portrayed to be god, I vote he be delivered
over to the bogies, and at the next public show be flogged with a birch
amongst the new gladiators." The next to be asked was Diespiter, son of
Vica Pota, he also being consul elect, and a moneylender; by this trade he
made a living, used to sell rights of citizenship in a small way. Hercules
trips me up to him daintily, and tweaks him by the ear. So he uttered his
opinion in these words: "Inasmuch as the blessed Claudius is akin to the
blessed Augustus, and also to the blessed Augusta, his grandmother, whom he
ordered to be made a goddess, and whereas he far surpasses all mortal men
in wisdom, and seeing that it is for the public good that there be some one
able to join Romulus in devouring boiled turnips, I propose that from this
day forth blessed Claudius be a god, to enjoy that honour with all its
appurtenances in as full a degree as any other before him, and that a note
to that effect be added to Ovid's Metamorphoses." The meeting was divided,
and it looked as though Claudius was to win the day. For Hercules saw his
iron was in the fire, trotted here and trotted there, saying, "Don't deny
me; I make a point of the matter. I'll do as much for you again, when you
like; you roll my log, and I'll roll yours: one hand washes another."
Then arose the blessed Augustus, when his turn                           10
came, and spoke with much eloquence. [Footnote: The speech seems to contain
a parody of Augustus's style and sayings.] "I call you to witness, my lords
and gentlemen," said he, "that since the day I was made a god I have never
uttered one word. I always mind my own business. But now I can keep on the
mask no longer, nor conceal the sorrow which shame makes all the greater.
Is it for this I have made peace by land and sea? For this have I calmed
intestine wars? For this, laid a firm foundation of law for Rome, adorned
it with buildings, and all that--my lords, words fail me; there are none
can rise to the height of my indignation. I must borrow that saying of the
eloquent Messala Corvinus, I am ashamed of my authority. [Footnote: M.
Valerius Messala Corvinus, appointed praefectus urbi, resigned within a
week.] This man, my lords, who looks as though he could not hurt a fly,
used to chop off heads as easily as a dog sits down. But why should I speak
of all those men, and such men? There is no time to lament for public
disasters, when one has so many private sorrows to think of. I leave that,
therefore, and say only this; for even if my sister knows no Greek, I do:
The knee is nearer than the shin. [Footnote: A proverb, like "Charity
begins at home." The reading of the passage is uncertain; "sister" is only
a conjecture, and it is hard to see why his sister should be mentioned.]
This man you see, who for so many years has been masquerading under my
name, has done me the favour of murdering two Julias, great-granddaughters
of mine, one by cold steel and one by starvation; and one great grandson,
L. Silanus--see, Jupiter, whether he had a case against him (at least it is
your own if you will be fair.) Come tell me, blessed Claudius, why of all
those you killed, both men and women, without a hearing, why you did not
hear their side of the case first, before putting them to death? Where do
we find that custom? It is not done in heaven.
Look at Jupiter: all these years he has been                             11
king, and never did more than once to break Vulcan's leg,
  'Whom seizing by the foot he cast from the threshold of the sky,'
  [Sidenote: Illiad i, 591]
and once he fell in a rage with his wife and strung her up: did he do any
killing? You killed Messalina, whose great-uncle I was no less than yours.
'I don't know,' did you say? Curse you! that is just it: not to know was
worse than to kill. Caligula he went on persecuting even when he was dead.
Caligula murdered his father-in-law, Claudius his son-in-law to boot.
Caligula would not have Crassus' son called Great; Claudius gave him his
name back, and took away his head. In one family he destroyed Crassus,
Magnus, Scribonia, the Tristionias, Assario, noble though they were;
Crassus indeed such a fool that he might have been emperor. Is this he you
want now to make a god? Look at his body, born under the wrath of heaven!
In fine, let him say the three words [Footnote: Some formula such as _ais
esse meum_.] quickly, and he may have me for a slave. God! who will worship
this god, who will believe in him? While you make gods of such as he, no
one will believe you to be gods. To be brief, my lords: if I have lived
honourably among you, if I have never given plain speech to any, avenge my
wrongs. This is my motion": then he read out his amendment, which he had
committed to writing: "Inasmuch as the blessed Claudius murdered his
father-in-law Appius Silanus, his two sons-in-law, Pompeius Magnus and L.
Silanus, Crassus Frugi his daughter's father-in-law, as like him as two
eggs in a basket, Scribonia his daughter's mother-in-law, his wife
Messalina, and others too numerous to mention; I propose that strong
measures be taken against him, that he be allowed no delay of process, that
immediate sentence of banishment be passed on him, that he be deported from
heaven within thirty days, and from Olympus within thirty hours."
This motion was passed without further debate. Not a moment was lost:
Mercury screwed his neck and haled him to the lower regions, to that bourne
"from which they say no traveller returns." [Footnote: Catullus iii, 12.]
As they passed downwards along the Sacred Way, Mercury asked what was that
great concourse of men? could it be Claudius' funeral? It was certainly a
most gorgeous spectacle, got up regardless of expense, clear it was that a
god was being borne to the grave: tootling of flutes, roaring of horns, an
immense brass band of all sorts, such a din that even Claudius could hear
it. Joy and rejoicing on every side, the Roman people walking about like
free men. Agatho and a few pettifoggers were weeping for grief, and for
once in a way they meant it. The Barristers were crawling out of their
dark corners, pale and thin, with hardly a breath in their bodies, as
though just coming to life again. One of them when he saw the pettifoggers
putting their heads together, and lamenting their sad lot, up comes he and
says: "Did not I tell you the Saturnalia could not last for ever?"
When Claudius saw his own funeral train, he understood that he was dead.
For they were chanting his dirge in anapaests, with much mopping and
  "Pour forth your laments, your sorrow declare,
  Let the sounds of grief rise high in the air:
  For he that is dead had a wit most keen,
  Was bravest of all that on earth have been.
  Racehorses are nothing to his swift feet:
  Rebellious Parthians he did defeat;
  Swift after the Persians his light shafts go:
  For he well knew how to fit arrow to bow,
  Swiftly the striped barbarians fled:
  With one little wound he shot them dead.
  And the Britons beyond in their unknown seas,
  Blue-shielded Brigantians too, all these
  He chained by the neck as the Romans' slaves.
  He spake, and the Ocean with trembling waves
  Accepted the axe of the Roman law.
  O weep for the man! This world never saw
  One quicker a troublesome suit to decide,
  When only one part of the case had been tried,
  (He could do it indeed and not hear either side).
  Who'll now sit in judgment the whole year round?
  Now he that is judge of the shades underground
  Once ruler of fivescore cities in Crete,
  Must yield to his better and take a back seat.
  Mourn, mourn, pettifoggers, ye venal crew,
  And you, minor poets, woe, woe is to you!
  And you above all, who get rich quick
  By the rattle of dice and the three card trick."
Claudius was charmed to hear his own praises sung,                       13
and would have stayed longer to see the show. But the Talthybius
[Footnote: Talthybius was a herald, and _nuntius_ is obviously a gloss on
this. He means Mercury.] of the gods laid a hand on him, and led him across
the Campus Martius, first wrapping his head up close that no one might know
him, until betwixt Tiber and the Subway he went down to the lower regions.
[Footnote: By the Cloaca?] His freedman Narcissus had gone down before him
by a short cut, ready to welcome his master. Out he comes to meet him,
smooth and shining (he had just left the bath), and says he: "What make the
gods among mortals?" "Look alive," says Mercury, "go and tell them we are
coming." Away he flew, quicker than tongue can tell. It is easy going by
that road, all down hill. So although he had a touch of the gout, in a
trice they were come to Dis's door. There lay Cerberus, or, as Horace puts
it, the hundred-headed monster. [Sidenote: Odes ii, 13, 35] Claudius was a
trifle perturbed (it was a little white bitch he used to keep for a pet)
when he spied this black shag-haired hound, not at all the kind of thing
you could wish to meet in the dark.  In a loud voice he cried, "Claudius is
coming!" All marched before him singing, "The lost is found, O let us
rejoice together!" [Footnote: With a slight change, a cry used in the
worship of Osiris.] Here were found C. Silius consul elect, Juncus the
ex-praetor, Sextus Traulus, M. Helvius, Trogus, Cotta, Vettius Valens,
Fabius, Roman Knights whom Narcissus had ordered for execution. In the
midst of this chanting company was Mnester the mime, whom Claudius for
honour's sake had made shorter by a head. The news was soon blown about
that Claudius had come: to Messalina they throng: first his freedmen,
Polybius, Myron, Harpocras, Amphaeus, Pheronactus, all sent before him by
Claudius that he might not be unattended anywhere; next two prefects,
Justus Catonius and Rufrius Pollio; then his friends, Saturninus, Lusius
and Pedo Pompeius and Lupus and Celer Asinius, these of consular rank; last
came his brother's daughter, his sister's daughter, sons-in-law, fathers
and mothers-in-law, the whole family in fact. In a body they came to meet
Claudius; and when Claudius saw them, he exclaimed, "Friends everywhere, on
my word! How came you all here?" To this Pedo Pompeius answered, "What,
cruel man? How came we here? Who but you sent us, you, the murderer of all
the friends that ever you had? To court with you! I'll show you where their
lordships sit."
Pedo brings him before the judgement seat of                             14
Aeacus, who was holding court under the Lex Cornelia to try cases of murder
and assassination. Pedo requests the judge to take the prisoner's name, and
produces a summons with this charge: Senators killed, 35; Roman Knights,
221; others as the sands of the sea-shore for multitude. [Sidenote:  Il. ix,
385] Claudius finds no counsel. At length out steps P. Petronius, an old
chum of his, a finished scholar in the Claudian tongue and claims a remand.
Not granted. Pedo Pompeius prosecutes with loud outcry. The counsel for the
defence tries to reply; but Aeacus, who is the soul of justice, will not
have it. Aeacus hears the case against Claudius, refuses to hear the other
side and passes sentence against him, quoting the line:
  "As he did, so be he done by, this is justice undefiled."
  [Footnote: A proverbial line.]
A great silence fell. Not a soul but was stupefied at this new way of
managing matters; they had never known anything like it before. It was no
new thing to Claudius, yet he thought it unfair. There was a long
discussion as to the punishment he ought to endure. Some said that Sisyphus
had done his job of porterage long enough; Tantalus would be dying of
thirst, if he were not relieved; the drag must be put at last on wretched
Ixion's wheel. But it was determined not to let off any of the old stagers,
lest Claudius should dare to hope for any such relief. It was agreed that
some new punishment must be devised: they must devise some new task,
something senseless, to suggest some craving without result. Then Aeacus
decreed he should rattle dice for ever in a box with no bottom. At once the
poor wretch began his fruitless task of hunting for the dice, which for
ever slipped from his fingers.
  "For when he rattled with the box, and thought he now had got 'em.     15
  The little cubes would vanish thro' the perforated bottom.
  Then he would pick 'em up again, and once more set a-trying:
  The dice but served him the same trick: away they went a-flying.
  So still he tries, and still he fails; still searching long he lingers;
  And every time the tricksy things go slipping thro' his fingers.
  Just so when Sisyphus at last once gets there with his boulder,
  He finds the labour all in vain--it rolls down off his shoulder."
All on a sudden who should turn up but Caligula, and claims the man for a
slave: brings witnesses, who said they had seen him being flogged, caned,
fisticuffed by him. He is handed over to Caligula, and Caligula makes him
a present to Aeacus. Aeacus delivers him to his freedman Menander, to be
his law-clerk.
THE HOUSE ON THE BORDERLAND
William Hope Hodgson
_From the Manuscript discovered in 1877 by Messrs. Tonnison and
Berreggnog in the Ruins that lie to the South of the Village of
Kraighten, in the West of Ireland. Set out here, with Notes_.
TO MY FATHER
_(Whose feet tread the lost aeons)_
Open the door,
  And listen!
Only the wind's muffled roar,
  And the glisten
Of tears 'round the moon.
  And, in fancy, the tread
Of vanishing shoon--
  Out in the night with the Dead.
"Hush! And hark
  To the sorrowful cry
Of the wind in the dark.
  Hush and hark, without murmur or sigh,
    To shoon that tread the lost aeons:
  To the sound that bids you to die.
Hush and hark! Hush and Hark!"
                               _Shoon of the Dead_
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION TO THE MANUSCRIPT
Many are the hours in which I have pondered upon the story that is set
forth in the following pages. I trust that my instincts are not awry
when they prompt me to leave the account, in simplicity, as it was
handed to me.
And the MS. itself--You must picture me, when first it was given into my
care, turning it over, curiously, and making a swift, jerky examination.
A small book it is; but thick, and all, save the last few pages, filled
with a quaint but legible handwriting, and writ very close. I have the
queer, faint, pit-water smell of it in my nostrils now as I write, and
my fingers have subconscious memories of the soft, "cloggy" feel of the
long-damp pages.
I read, and, in reading, lifted the Curtains of the Impossible that
blind the mind, and looked out into the unknown. Amid stiff, abrupt
sentences I wandered; and, presently, I had no fault to charge against
their abrupt tellings; for, better far than my own ambitious phrasing,
is this mutilated story capable of bringing home all that the old
Recluse, of the vanished house, had striven to tell.
Of the simple, stiffly given account of weird and extraordinary matters,
I will say little. It lies before you. The inner story must be uncovered,
personally, by each reader, according to ability and desire. And even
should any fail to see, as now I see, the shadowed picture and conception
of that to which one may well give the accepted titles of Heaven and Hell;
yet can I promise certain thrills, merely taking the story as a story.
WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON December 17, 1907
THE FINDING OF THE MANUSCRIPT
Right away in the west of Ireland lies a tiny hamlet called Kraighten.
It is situated, alone, at the base of a low hill. Far around there
spreads a waste of bleak and totally inhospitable country; where, here
and there at great intervals, one may come upon the ruins of some long
desolate cottage--unthatched and stark. The whole land is bare and
unpeopled, the very earth scarcely covering the rock that lies beneath
it, and with which the country abounds, in places rising out of the soil
in wave-shaped ridges.
Yet, in spite of its desolation, my friend Tonnison and I had elected to
spend our vacation there. He had stumbled on the place by mere chance
the year previously, during the course of a long walking tour, and
discovered the possibilities for the angler in a small and unnamed river
that runs past the outskirts of the little village.
I have said that the river is without name; I may add that no map that I
have hitherto consulted has shown either village or stream. They seem
to have entirely escaped observation: indeed, they might never exist for
all that the average guide tells one. Possibly this can be partly
accounted for by the fact that the nearest railway station (Ardrahan) is
some forty miles distant.
It was early one warm evening when my friend and I arrived in Kraighten.
We had reached Ardrahan the previous night, sleeping there in rooms
hired at the village post office, and leaving in good time on the
following morning, clinging insecurely to one of the typical
jaunting cars.
It had taken us all day to accomplish our journey over some of the
roughest tracks imaginable, with the result that we were thoroughly
tired and somewhat bad tempered. However, the tent had to be erected and
our goods stowed away before we could think of food or rest. And so we
set to work, with the aid of our driver, and soon had the tent up upon a
small patch of ground just outside the little village, and quite near to
Then, having stored all our belongings, we dismissed the driver, as he
had to make his way back as speedily as possible, and told him to come
across to us at the end of a fortnight. We had brought sufficient
provisions to last us for that space of time, and water we could get
from the stream. Fuel we did not need, as we had included a small
oil-stove among our outfit, and the weather was fine and warm.
It was Tonnison's idea to camp out instead of getting lodgings in one of
the cottages. As he put it, there was no joke in sleeping in a room with
a numerous family of healthy Irish in one corner and the pigsty in the
other, while overhead a ragged colony of roosting fowls distributed
their blessings impartially, and the whole place so full of peat smoke
that it made a fellow sneeze his head off just to put it inside
the doorway.
Tonnison had got the stove lit now and was busy cutting slices of bacon
into the frying pan; so I took the kettle and walked down to the river
for water. On the way, I had to pass close to a little group of the
village people, who eyed me curiously, but not in any unfriendly manner,
though none of them ventured a word.
As I returned with my kettle filled, I went up to them and, after a
friendly nod, to which they replied in like manner, I asked them
casually about the fishing; but, instead of answering, they just shook
their heads silently, and stared at me. I repeated the question,
addressing more particularly a great, gaunt fellow at my elbow; yet
again I received no answer. Then the man turned to a comrade and said
something rapidly in a language that I did not understand; and, at once,
the whole crowd of them fell to jabbering in what, after a few moments,
I guessed to be pure Irish. At the same time they cast many glances in
my direction. For a minute, perhaps, they spoke among themselves thus;
then the man I had addressed faced 'round at me and said something. By
the expression of his face I guessed that he, in turn, was questioning
me; but now I had to shake my head, and indicate that I did not
comprehend what it was they wanted to know; and so we stood looking at
one another, until I heard Tonnison calling to me to hurry up with the
kettle. Then, with a smile and a nod, I left them, and all in the little
crowd smiled and nodded in return, though their faces still betrayed
their puzzlement.
It was evident, I reflected as I went toward the tent, that the
inhabitants of these few huts in the wilderness did not know a word of
English; and when I told Tonnison, he remarked that he was aware of the
fact, and, more, that it was not at all uncommon in that part of the
country, where the people often lived and died in their isolated hamlets
without ever coming in contact with the outside world.
"I wish we had got the driver to interpret for us before he left," I
remarked, as we sat down to our meal. "It seems so strange for the
people of this place not even to know what we've come for."
Tonnison grunted an assent, and thereafter was silent for a while.
Later, having satisfied our appetites somewhat, we began to talk, laying
our plans for the morrow; then, after a smoke, we closed the flap of the
tent, and prepared to turn in.
"I suppose there's no chance of those fellows outside taking anything?"
I asked, as we rolled ourselves in our blankets.
Tonnison said that he did not think so, at least while we were about;
and, as he went on to explain, we could lock up everything, except the
tent, in the big chest that we had brought to hold our provisions. I
agreed to this, and soon we were both asleep.
Next morning, early, we rose and went for a swim in the river; after
which we dressed and had breakfast. Then we roused out our fishing
tackle and overhauled it, by which time, our breakfasts having settled
somewhat, we made all secure within the tent and strode off in the
direction my friend had explored on his previous visit.
During the day we fished happily, working steadily upstream, and by
evening we had one of the prettiest creels of fish that I had seen for a
long while. Returning to the village, we made a good feed off our day's
spoil, after which, having selected a few of the finer fish for our
breakfast, we presented the remainder to the group of villagers who had
assembled at a respectful distance to watch our doings. They seemed
wonderfully grateful, and heaped mountains of what I presumed to be
Irish blessings upon our heads.
Thus we spent several days, having splendid sport, and first-rate
appetites to do justice upon our prey. We were pleased to find how
friendly the villagers were inclined to be, and that there was no
evidence of their having ventured to meddle with our belongings during
our absences.
It was on a Tuesday that we arrived in Kraighten, and it would be on the
Sunday following that we made a great discovery. Hitherto we had always
gone up-stream; on that day, however, we laid aside our rods, and,
taking some provisions, set off for a long ramble in the opposite
direction. The day was warm, and we trudged along leisurely enough,
stopping about mid-day to eat our lunch upon a great flat rock near the
riverbank. Afterward we sat and smoked awhile, resuming our walk only
when we were tired of inaction.
For perhaps another hour we wandered onward, chatting quietly and
comfortably on this and that matter, and on several occasions stopping
while my companion--who is something of an artist--made rough sketches
of striking bits of the wild scenery.
And then, without any warning whatsoever, the river we had followed so
confidently, came to an abrupt end--vanishing into the earth.
"Good Lord!" I said, "who ever would have thought of this?"
And I stared in amazement; then I turned to Tonnison. He was looking,
with a blank expression upon his face, at the place where the river
disappeared.
In a moment he spoke.
"Let us go on a bit; it may reappear again--anyhow, it is worth
investigating."
I agreed, and we went forward once more, though rather aimlessly; for we
were not at all certain in which direction to prosecute our search. For
perhaps a mile we moved onward; then Tonnison, who had been gazing about
curiously, stopped and shaded his eyes.
"See!" he said, after a moment, "isn't that mist or something, over
there to the right--away in a line with that great piece of rock?" And
he indicated with his hand.
I stared, and, after a minute, seemed to see something, but could not be
certain, and said so.
"Anyway," my friend replied, "we'll just go across and have a glance."
And he started off in the direction he had suggested, I following.
Presently, we came among bushes, and, after a time, out upon the top of
a high, boulder-strewn bank, from which we looked down into a wilderness
of bushes and trees.
"Seems as though we had come upon an oasis in this desert of stone,"
muttered Tonnison, as he gazed interestedly. Then he was silent, his
eyes fixed; and I looked also; for up from somewhere about the center of
the wooded lowland there rose high into the quiet air a great column of
hazelike spray, upon which the sun shone, causing innumerable rainbows.
"How beautiful!" I exclaimed.
"Yes," answered Tonnison, thoughtfully. "There must be a waterfall, or
something, over there. Perhaps it's our river come to light again. Let's
go and see."
Down the sloping bank we made our way, and entered among the trees and
shrubberies. The bushes were matted, and the trees overhung us, so that
the place was disagreeably gloomy; though not dark enough to hide from
me the fact that many of the trees were fruit trees, and that, here and
there, one could trace indistinctly, signs of a long departed
cultivation. Thus it came to me that we were making our way through the
riot of a great and ancient garden. I said as much to Tonnison, and he
agreed that there certainly seemed reasonable grounds for my belief.
What a wild place it was, so dismal and somber! Somehow, as we went
forward, a sense of the silent loneliness and desertion of the old
garden grew upon me, and I felt shivery. One could imagine things
lurking among the tangled bushes; while, in the very air of the place,
there seemed something uncanny. I think Tonnison was conscious of this
also, though he said nothing.
Suddenly, we came to a halt. Through the trees there had grown upon our
ears a distant sound. Tonnison bent forward, listening. I could hear it
more plainly now; it was continuous and harsh--a sort of droning roar,
seeming to come from far away. I experienced a queer, indescribable,
little feeling of nervousness. What sort of place was it into which we
had got? I looked at my companion, to see what he thought of the matter;
and noted that there was only puzzlement in his face; and then, as I
watched his features, an expression of comprehension crept over them,
and he nodded his head.
"That's a waterfall," he exclaimed, with conviction. "I know the sound
now." And he began to push vigorously through the bushes, in the
direction of the noise.
As we went forward, the sound became plainer continually, showing that
we were heading straight toward it. Steadily, the roaring grew louder
and nearer, until it appeared, as I remarked to Tonnison, almost to come
from under our feet--and still we were surrounded by the trees
"Take care!" Tonnison called to me. "Look where you're going." And then,
suddenly, we came out from among the trees, on to a great open space,
where, not six paces in front of us, yawned the mouth of a tremendous
chasm, from the depths of which the noise appeared to rise, along with
the continuous, mistlike spray that we had witnessed from the top of the
distant bank.
For quite a minute we stood in silence, staring in bewilderment at the
sight; then my friend went forward cautiously to the edge of the abyss.
I followed, and, together, we looked down through a boil of spray at a
monster cataract of frothing water that burst, spouting, from the side
of the chasm, nearly a hundred feet below.
"Good Lord!" said Tonnison.
I was silent, and rather awed. The sight was so unexpectedly grand and
eerie; though this latter quality came more upon me later.
Presently, I looked up and across to the further side of the chasm.
There, I saw something towering up among the spray: it looked like a
fragment of a great ruin, and I touched Tonnison on the shoulder. He
glanced 'round, with a start, and I pointed toward the thing. His gaze
followed my finger, and his eyes lighted up with a sudden flash of
excitement, as the object came within his field of view.
"Come along," he shouted above the uproar. "We'll have a look at it.
There's something queer about this place; I feel it in my bones." And he
started off, 'round the edge of the craterlike abyss. As we neared this
new thing, I saw that I had not been mistaken in my first impression. It
was undoubtedly a portion of some ruined building; yet now I made out
that it was not built upon the edge of the chasm itself, as I had at
first supposed; but perched almost at the extreme end of a huge spur of
rock that jutted out some fifty or sixty feet over the abyss. In fact,
the jagged mass of ruin was literally suspended in midair.
Arriving opposite it, we walked out on to the projecting arm of rock,
and I must confess to having felt an intolerable sense of terror as I
looked down from that dizzy perch into the unknown depths below us--into
the deeps from which there rose ever the thunder of the falling water
and the shroud of rising spray.
Reaching the ruin, we clambered 'round it cautiously, and, on the
further side, came upon a mass of fallen stones and rubble. The ruin
itself seemed to me, as I proceeded now to examine it minutely, to be a
portion of the outer wall of some prodigious structure, it was so thick
and substantially built; yet what it was doing in such a position I
could by no means conjecture. Where was the rest of the house, or
castle, or whatever there had been?
I went back to the outer side of the wall, and thence to the edge of the
chasm, leaving Tonnison rooting systematically among the heap of stones
and rubbish on the outer side. Then I commenced to examine the surface
of the ground, near the edge of the abyss, to see whether there were not
left other remnants of the building to which the fragment of ruin
evidently belonged. But though I scrutinized the earth with the greatest
care, I could see no signs of anything to show that there had ever been
a building erected on the spot, and I grew more puzzled than ever.
Then, I heard a cry from Tonnison; he was shouting my name, excitedly,
and without delay I hurried along the rocky promontory to the ruin. I
wondered whether he had hurt himself, and then the thought came, that
perhaps he had found something.
I reached the crumbled wall and climbed 'round. There I found Tonnison
standing within a small excavation that he had made among the _debris_:
he was brushing the dirt from something that looked like a book, much
crumpled and dilapidated; and opening his mouth, every second or two, to
bellow my name. As soon as he saw that I had come, he handed his prize
to me, telling me to put it into my satchel so as to protect it from the
damp, while he continued his explorations. This I did, first, however,
running the pages through my fingers, and noting that they were closely
filled with neat, old-fashioned writing which was quite legible, save in
one portion, where many of the pages were almost destroyed, being
muddied and crumpled, as though the book had been doubled back at that
part. This, I found out from Tonnison, was actually as he had discovered
it, and the damage was due, probably, to the fall of masonry upon the
opened part. Curiously enough, the book was fairly dry, which I
attributed to its having been so securely buried among the ruins.
Having put the volume away safely, I turned-to and gave Tonnison a hand
with his self-imposed task of excavating; yet, though we put in over an
hour's hard work, turning over the whole of the upheaped stones and
rubbish, we came upon nothing more than some fragments of broken wood,
that might have been parts of a desk or table; and so we gave up
searching, and went back along the rock, once more to the safety of
The next thing we did was to make a complete tour of the tremendous
chasm, which we were able to observe was in the form of an almost
perfect circle, save for where the ruin-crowned spur of rock jutted out,
spoiling its symmetry.
The abyss was, as Tonnison put it, like nothing so much as a gigantic
well or pit going sheer down into the bowels of the earth.
For some time longer, we continued to stare about us, and then, noticing
that there was a clear space away to the north of the chasm, we bent our
steps in that direction.
Here, distant from the mouth of the mighty pit by some hundreds of
yards, we came upon a great lake of silent water--silent, that is, save
in one place where there was a continuous bubbling and gurgling.
Now, being away from the noise of the spouting cataract, we were able to
hear one another speak, without having to shout at the tops of our
voices, and I asked Tonnison what he thought of the place--I told him
that I didn't like it, and that the sooner we were out of it the better
I should be pleased.
He nodded in reply, and glanced at the woods behind furtively. I asked
him if he had seen or heard anything. He made no answer; but stood
silent, as though listening, and I kept quiet also.
Suddenly, he spoke.
"Hark!" he said, sharply. I looked at him, and then away among the trees
and bushes, holding my breath involuntarily. A minute came and went in
strained silence; yet I could hear nothing, and I turned to Tonnison to
say as much; and then, even as I opened my lips to speak, there came a
strange wailing noise out of the wood on our left.... It appeared to
float through the trees, and there was a rustle of stirring leaves, and
then silence.
All at once, Tonnison spoke, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Let us
get out of here," he said, and began to move slowly toward where the
surrounding trees and bushes seemed thinnest. As I followed him, it came
to me suddenly that the sun was low, and that there was a raw sense of
chilliness in the air.
Tonnison said nothing further, but kept on steadily. We were among the
trees now, and I glanced around, nervously; but saw nothing, save the
quiet branches and trunks and the tangled bushes. Onward we went, and no
sound broke the silence, except the occasional snapping of a twig under
our feet, as we moved forward. Yet, in spite of the quietness, I had a
horrible feeling that we were not alone; and I kept so close to Tonnison
that twice I kicked his heels clumsily, though he said nothing. A
minute, and then another, and we reached the confines of the wood coming
out at last upon the bare rockiness of the countryside. Only then was I
able to shake off the haunting dread that had followed me among
Once, as we moved away, there seemed to come again a distant sound of
wailing, and I said to myself that it was the wind--yet the evening was
Presently, Tonnison began to talk.
"Look you," he said with decision, "I would not spend the night in
_that_ place for all the wealth that the world holds. There is something
unholy--diabolical--about it. It came to me all in a moment, just after
you spoke. It seemed to me that the woods were full of vile
things--you know!"
"Yes," I answered, and looked back toward the place; but it was hidden
from us by a rise in the ground.
"There's the book," I said, and I put my hand into the satchel.
"You've got it safely?" he questioned, with a sudden access of anxiety.
"Yes," I replied.
"Perhaps," he continued, "we shall learn something from it when we get
back to the tent. We had better hurry, too; we're a long way off still,
and I don't fancy, now, being caught out here in the dark."
It was two hours later when we reached the tent; and, without delay, we
set to work to prepare a meal; for we had eaten nothing since our lunch
Supper over, we cleared the things out of the way, and lit our pipes.
Then Tonnison asked me to get the manuscript out of my satchel. This I
did, and then, as we could not both read from it at the same time, he
suggested that I should read the thing out loud. "And mind," he
cautioned, knowing my propensities, "don't go skipping half the book."
Yet, had he but known what it contained, he would have realized how
needless such advice was, for once at least. And there seated in the
opening of our little tent, I began the strange tale of _The House on
the Borderland_ (for such was the title of the MS.); this is told in the
following pages.
THE PLAIN OF SILENCE
I am an old man. I live here in this ancient house, surrounded by huge,
unkempt gardens.
The peasantry, who inhabit the wilderness beyond, say that I am mad.
That is because I will have nothing to do with them. I live here alone
with my old sister, who is also my housekeeper. We keep no servants--I
hate them. I have one friend, a dog; yes, I would sooner have old Pepper
than the rest of Creation together. He, at least, understands me--and
has sense enough to leave me alone when I am in my dark moods.
I have decided to start a kind of diary; it may enable me to record
some of the thoughts and feelings that I cannot express to anyone; but,
beyond this, I am anxious to make some record of the strange things that
I have heard and seen, during many years of loneliness, in this weird
old building.
For a couple of centuries, this house has had a reputation, a bad one,
and, until I bought it, for more than eighty years no one had lived
here; consequently, I got the old place at a ridiculously low figure.
I am not superstitious; but I have ceased to deny that things happen
in this old house--things that I cannot explain; and, therefore, I must
needs ease my mind, by writing down an account of them, to the best of
my ability; though, should this, my diary, ever be read when I am gone,
the readers will but shake their heads, and be the more convinced that
This house, how ancient it is! though its age strikes one less,
perhaps, than the quaintness of its structure, which is curious and
fantastic to the last degree. Little curved towers and pinnacles, with
outlines suggestive of leaping flames, predominate; while the body of
the building is in the form of a circle.
I have heard that there is an old story, told amongst the country
people, to the effect that the devil built the place. However, that is
as may be. True or not, I neither know nor care, save as it may have
helped to cheapen it, ere I came.
I must have been here some ten years before I saw sufficient to warrant
any belief in the stories, current in the neighborhood, about this
house. It is true that I had, on at least a dozen occasions, seen,
vaguely, things that puzzled me, and, perhaps, had felt more than I had
seen. Then, as the years passed, bringing age upon me, I became often
aware of something unseen, yet unmistakably present, in the empty rooms
and corridors. Still, it was as I have said many years before I saw any
real manifestations of the so-called supernatural.
It was not Halloween. If I were telling a story for amusement's sake, I
should probably place it on that night of nights; but this is a true
record of my own experiences, and I would not put pen to paper to amuse
anyone. No. It was after midnight on the morning of the twenty-first day
of January. I was sitting reading, as is often my custom, in my study.
Pepper lay, sleeping, near my chair.
Without warning, the flames of the two candles went low, and then
shone with a ghastly green effulgence. I looked up, quickly, and as I
did so I saw the lights sink into a dull, ruddy tint; so that the room
glowed with a strange, heavy, crimson twilight that gave the shadows
behind the chairs and tables a double depth of blackness; and wherever
the light struck, it was as though luminous blood had been splashed
over the room.
Down on the floor, I heard a faint, frightened whimper, and something
pressed itself in between my two feet. It was Pepper, cowering under my
dressing gown. Pepper, usually as brave as a lion!
It was this movement of the dog's, I think, that gave me the first
twinge of _real_ fear. I had been considerably startled when the lights
burnt first green and then red; but had been momentarily under the
impression that the change was due to some influx of noxious gas into
the room. Now, however, I saw that it was not so; for the candles burned
with a steady flame, and showed no signs of going out, as would have
been the case had the change been due to fumes in the atmosphere.
I did not move. I felt distinctly frightened; but could think of
nothing better to do than wait. For perhaps a minute, I kept my glance
about the room, nervously. Then I noticed that the lights had commenced
to sink, very slowly; until presently they showed minute specks of red
fire, like the gleamings of rubies in the darkness. Still, I sat
watching; while a sort of dreamy indifference seemed to steal over me;
banishing altogether the fear that had begun to grip me.
Away in the far end of the huge old-fashioned room, I became conscious
of a faint glow. Steadily it grew, filling the room with gleams of
quivering green light; then they sank quickly, and changed--even as the
candle flames had done--into a deep, somber crimson that strengthened,
and lit up the room with a flood of awful glory.
The light came from the end wall, and grew ever brighter until its
intolerable glare caused my eyes acute pain, and involuntarily I closed
them. It may have been a few seconds before I was able to open them. The
first thing I noticed was that the light had decreased, greatly; so that
it no longer tried my eyes. Then, as it grew still duller, I was aware,
all at once, that, instead of looking at the redness, I was staring
through it, and through the wall beyond.
Gradually, as I became more accustomed to the idea, I realized that I
was looking out on to a vast plain, lit with the same gloomy twilight
that pervaded the room. The immensity of this plain scarcely can be
conceived. In no part could I perceive its confines. It seemed to
broaden and spread out, so that the eye failed to perceive any
limitations. Slowly, the details of the nearer portions began to grow
clear; then, in a moment almost, the light died away, and the vision--if
vision it were--faded and was gone.
Suddenly, I became conscious that I was no longer in the chair.
Instead, I seemed to be hovering above it, and looking down at a dim
something, huddled and silent. In a little while, a cold blast struck
me, and I was outside in the night, floating, like a bubble, up through
the darkness. As I moved, an icy coldness seemed to enfold me, so that
After a time, I looked to right and left, and saw the intolerable
blackness of the night, pierced by remote gleams of fire. Onward,
outward, I drove. Once, I glanced behind, and saw the earth, a small
crescent of blue light, receding away to my left. Further off, the sun,
a splash of white flame, burned vividly against the dark.
An indefinite period passed. Then, for the last time, I saw the
earth--an enduring globule of radiant blue, swimming in an eternity of
ether. And there I, a fragile flake of soul dust, flickered silently
across the void, from the distant blue, into the expanse of the unknown.
A great while seemed to pass over me, and now I could nowhere see
anything. I had passed beyond the fixed stars and plunged into the huge
blackness that waits beyond. All this time I had experienced little,
save a sense of lightness and cold discomfort. Now however the atrocious
darkness seemed to creep into my soul, and I became filled with fear and
despair. What was going to become of me? Where was I going? Even as the
thoughts were formed, there grew against the impalpable blackness that
wrapped me a faint tinge of blood. It seemed extraordinarily remote, and
mistlike; yet, at once, the feeling of oppression was lightened, and I
no longer despaired.
Slowly, the distant redness became plainer and larger; until, as I drew
nearer, it spread out into a great, somber glare--dull and tremendous.
Still, I fled onward, and, presently, I had come so close, that it
seemed to stretch beneath me, like a great ocean of somber red. I could
see little, save that it appeared to spread out interminably in all
In a further space, I found that I was descending upon it; and, soon, I
sank into a great sea of sullen, red-hued clouds. Slowly, I emerged from
these, and there, below me, I saw the stupendous plain that I had seen
from my room in this house that stands upon the borders of the Silences.
Presently, I landed, and stood, surrounded by a great waste of
loneliness. The place was lit with a gloomy twilight that gave an
impression of indescribable desolation.
Afar to my right, within the sky, there burnt a gigantic ring of
dull-red fire, from the outer edge of which were projected huge,
writhing flames, darted and jagged. The interior of this ring was
black, black as the gloom of the outer night. I comprehended, at once,
that it was from this extraordinary sun that the place derived its
doleful light.
From that strange source of light, I glanced down again to my
surroundings. Everywhere I looked, I saw nothing but the same flat
weariness of interminable plain. Nowhere could I descry any signs of
life; not even the ruins of some ancient habitation.
Gradually, I found that I was being borne forward, floating across the
flat waste. For what seemed an eternity, I moved onward. I was unaware
of any great sense of impatience; though some curiosity and a vast
wonder were with me continually. Always, I saw around me the breadth of
that enormous plain; and, always, I searched for some new thing to break
its monotony; but there was no change--only loneliness, silence,
Presently, in a half-conscious manner, I noticed that there was a faint
mistiness, ruddy in hue, lying over its surface. Still, when I looked
more intently, I was unable to say that it was really mist; for it
appeared to blend with the plain, giving it a peculiar unrealness, and
conveying to the senses the idea of unsubstantiality.
Gradually, I began to weary with the sameness of the thing. Yet, it was
a great time before I perceived any signs of the place, toward which I
was being conveyed.
"At first, I saw it, far ahead, like a long hillock on the surface of
the Plain. Then, as I drew nearer, I perceived that I had been mistaken;
for, instead of a low hill, I made out, now, a chain of great mountains,
whose distant peaks towered up into the red gloom, until they were
almost lost to sight."
THE HOUSE IN THE ARENA
And so, after a time, I came to the mountains. Then, the course of my
journey was altered, and I began to move along their bases, until, all
at once, I saw that I had come opposite to a vast rift, opening into the
mountains. Through this, I was borne, moving at no great speed. On
either side of me, huge, scarped walls of rocklike substance rose sheer.
Far overhead, I discerned a thin ribbon of red, where the mouth of the
chasm opened, among inaccessible peaks. Within, was gloom, deep and
somber, and chilly silence. For a while, I went onward steadily, and
then, at last, I saw, ahead, a deep, red glow, that told me I was near
upon the further opening of the gorge.
A minute came and went, and I was at the exit of the chasm, staring out
upon an enormous amphitheatre of mountains. Yet, of the mountains, and
the terrible grandeur of the place, I recked nothing; for I was
confounded with amazement to behold, at a distance of several miles and
occupying the center of the arena, a stupendous structure built
apparently of green jade. Yet, in itself, it was not the discovery of
the building that had so astonished me; but the fact, which became every
moment more apparent, that in no particular, save in color and its
enormous size, did the lonely structure vary from this house in which
For a while, I continued to stare, fixedly. Even then, I could scarcely
believe that I saw aright. In my mind, a question formed, reiterating
incessantly: 'What does it mean?' 'What does it mean?' and I was unable
to make answer, even out of the depths of my imagination. I seemed
capable only of wonder and fear. For a time longer, I gazed, noting
continually some fresh point of resemblance that attracted me. At last,
wearied and sorely puzzled, I turned from it, to view the rest of the
strange place on to which I had intruded.
Hitherto, I had been so engrossed in my scrutiny of the House, that I
had given only a cursory glance 'round. Now, as I looked, I began to
realize upon what sort of a place I had come. The arena, for so I have
termed it, appeared a perfect circle of about ten to twelve miles in
diameter, the House, as I have mentioned before, standing in the center.
The surface of the place, like to that of the Plain, had a peculiar,
misty appearance, that was yet not mist.
From a rapid survey, my glance passed quickly upward along the slopes
of the circling mountains. How silent they were. I think that this same
abominable stillness was more trying to me than anything that I had so
far seen or imagined. I was looking up, now, at the great crags,
towering so loftily. Up there, the impalpable redness gave a blurred
appearance to everything.
And then, as I peered, curiously, a new terror came to me; for away up
among the dim peaks to my right, I had descried a vast shape of
blackness, giantlike. It grew upon my sight. It had an enormous equine
head, with gigantic ears, and seemed to peer steadfastly down into the
arena. There was that about the pose that gave me the impression of an
eternal watchfulness--of having warded that dismal place, through
unknown eternities. Slowly, the monster became plainer to me; and then,
suddenly, my gaze sprang from it to something further off and higher
among the crags. For a long minute, I gazed, fearfully. I was strangely
conscious of something not altogether unfamiliar--as though something
stirred in the back of my mind. The thing was black, and had four
grotesque arms. The features showed indistinctly, 'round the neck, I
made out several light-colored objects. Slowly, the details came to me,
and I realized, coldly, that they were skulls. Further down the body was
another circling belt, showing less dark against the black trunk. Then,
even as I puzzled to know what the thing was, a memory slid into my
mind, and straightway, I knew that I was looking at a monstrous
representation of Kali, the Hindu goddess of death.
Other remembrances of my old student days drifted into my thoughts. My
glance fell back upon the huge beast-headed Thing. Simultaneously, I
recognized it for the ancient Egyptian god Set, or Seth, the Destroyer
of Souls. With the knowledge, there came a great sweep of
questioning--'Two of the--!' I stopped, and endeavored to think. Things
beyond my imagination peered into my frightened mind. I saw, obscurely.
'The old gods of mythology!' I tried to comprehend to what it was all
pointing. My gaze dwelt, flickeringly, between the two. 'If--'
An idea came swiftly, and I turned, and glanced rapidly upward,
searching the gloomy crags, away to my left. Something loomed out under
a great peak, a shape of greyness. I wondered I had not seen it earlier,
and then remembered I had not yet viewed that portion. I saw it more
plainly now. It was, as I have said, grey. It had a tremendous head; but
no eyes. That part of its face was blank.
Now, I saw that there were other things up among the mountains. Further
off, reclining on a lofty ledge, I made out a livid mass, irregular and
ghoulish. It seemed without form, save for an unclean, half-animal face,
that looked out, vilely, from somewhere about its middle. And then I saw
others--there were hundreds of them. They seemed to grow out of the
shadows. Several I recognized almost immediately as mythological
deities; others were strange to me, utterly strange, beyond the power of
a human mind to conceive.
On each side, I looked, and saw more, continually. The mountains were
full of strange things--Beast-gods, and Horrors so atrocious and bestial
that possibility and decency deny any further attempt to describe them.
And I--I was filled with a terrible sense of overwhelming horror and
fear and repugnance; yet, spite of these, I wondered exceedingly. Was
there then, after all, something in the old heathen worship, something
more than the mere deifying of men, animals, and elements? The thought
gripped me--was there?
Later, a question repeated itself. What were they, those Beast-gods,
and the others? At first, they had appeared to me just sculptured
Monsters placed indiscriminately among the inaccessible peaks and
precipices of the surrounding mountains. Now, as I scrutinized them with
greater intentness, my mind began to reach out to fresh conclusions.
There was something about them, an indescribable sort of silent vitality
that suggested, to my broadening consciousness, a state of
life-in-death--a something that was by no means life, as we understand
it; but rather an inhuman form of existence, that well might be likened
to a deathless trance--a condition in which it was possible to imagine
their continuing, eternally. 'Immortal!' the word rose in my thoughts
unbidden; and, straightway, I grew to wondering whether this might be
the immortality of the gods.
And then, in the midst of my wondering and musing, something happened.
Until then, I had been staying just within the shadow of the exit of the
great rift. Now, without volition on my part, I drifted out of the
semi-darkness and began to move slowly across the arena--toward the
House. At this, I gave up all thoughts of those prodigious Shapes above
me--and could only stare, frightenedly, at the tremendous structure
toward which I was being conveyed so remorselessly. Yet, though I
searched earnestly, I could discover nothing that I had not already
seen, and so became gradually calmer.
Presently, I had reached a point more than halfway between the House
and the gorge. All around was spread the stark loneliness of the place,
and the unbroken silence. Steadily, I neared the great building. Then,
all at once, something caught my vision, something that came 'round one
of the huge buttresses of the House, and so into full view. It was a
gigantic thing, and moved with a curious lope, going almost upright,
after the manner of a man. It was quite unclothed, and had a remarkable
luminous appearance. Yet it was the face that attracted and frightened
me the most. It was the face of a swine.
Silently, intently, I watched this horrible creature, and forgot my
fear, momentarily, in my interest in its movements. It was making its
way, cumbrously 'round the building, stopping as it came to each window
to peer in and shake at the bars, with which--as in this house--they
were protected; and whenever it came to a door, it would push at it,
fingering the fastening stealthily. Evidently, it was searching for an
ingress into the House.
I had come now to within less than a quarter of a mile of the great
structure, and still I was compelled forward. Abruptly, the Thing turned
and gazed hideously in my direction. It opened its mouth, and, for the
first time, the stillness of that abominable place was broken, by a
deep, booming note that sent an added thrill of apprehension through me.
Then, immediately, I became aware that it was coming toward me, swiftly
and silently. In an instant, it had covered half the distance that lay
between. And still, I was borne helplessly to meet it. Only a hundred
yards, and the brutish ferocity of the giant face numbed me with a
feeling of unmitigated horror. I could have screamed, in the supremeness
of my fear; and then, in the very moment of my extremity and despair, I
became conscious that I was looking down upon the arena, from a rapidly
increasing height. I was rising, rising. In an inconceivably short
while, I had reached an altitude of many hundred feet. Beneath me, the
spot that I had just left, was occupied by the foul Swine-creature. It
had gone down on all fours and was snuffing and rooting, like a
veritable hog, at the surface of the arena. A moment and it rose to its
feet, clutching upward, with an expression of desire upon its face such
as I have never seen in this world.
Continually, I mounted higher. A few minutes, it seemed, and I had
risen above the great mountains--floating, alone, afar in the redness.
At a tremendous distance below, the arena showed, dimly; with the mighty
House looking no larger than a tiny spot of green. The Swine-thing was
no longer visible.
Presently, I passed over the mountains, out above the huge breadth of
the plain. Far away, on its surface, in the direction of the ring-shaped
sun, there showed a confused blur. I looked toward it, indifferently. It
reminded me, somewhat, of the first glimpse I had caught of the
mountain-amphitheatre.
With a sense of weariness, I glanced upward at the immense ring of
fire. What a strange thing it was! Then, as I stared, out from the dark
center, there spurted a sudden flare of extraordinary vivid fire.
Compared with the size of the black center, it was as naught; yet, in
itself, stupendous. With awakened interest, I watched it carefully,
noting its strange boiling and glowing. Then, in a moment, the whole
thing grew dim and unreal, and so passed out of sight. Much amazed, I
glanced down to the Plain from which I was still rising. Thus, I
received a fresh surprise. The Plain--everything had vanished, and only
a sea of red mist was spread far below me. Gradually as I stared this
grew remote, and died away into a dim far mystery of red against an
unfathomable night. A while, and even this had gone, and I was wrapped
in an impalpable, lightless gloom.
Thus I was, and only the memory that I had lived through the dark, once
before, served to sustain my thoughts. A great time passed--ages. And
then a single star broke its way through the darkness. It was the first
of one of the outlying clusters of this universe. Presently, it was far
behind, and all about me shone the splendor of the countless stars.
Later, years it seemed, I saw the sun, a clot of flame. Around it, I
made out presently several remote specks of light--the planets of the
Solar system. And so I saw the earth again, blue and unbelievably
minute. It grew larger, and became defined.
A long space of time came and went, and then at last I entered into the
shadow of the world--plunging headlong into the dim and holy earth
night. Overhead were the old constellations, and there was a crescent
moon. Then, as I neared the earth's surface, a dimness swept over me,
and I appeared to sink into a black mist.
For a while, I knew nothing. I was unconscious. Gradually, I became
aware of a faint, distant whining. It became plainer. A desperate
feeling of agony possessed me. I struggled madly for breath, and tried
to shout. A moment, and I got my breath more easily. I was conscious
that something was licking my hand. Something damp swept across my face.
I heard a panting, and then again the whining. It seemed to come to my
ears, now, with a sense of familiarity, and I opened my eyes. All was
dark; but the feeling of oppression had left me. I was seated, and
something was whining piteously, and licking me. I felt strangely
confused, and, instinctively, tried to ward off the thing that licked.
My head was curiously vacant, and, for the moment, I seemed incapable of
action or thought. Then, things came back to me, and I called 'Pepper,'
faintly. I was answered by a joyful bark, and renewed and
frantic caresses.
In a little while, I felt stronger, and put out my hand for the
matches. I groped about, for a few moments, blindly; then my hands lit
upon them, and I struck a light, and looked confusedly around. All about
me, I saw the old, familiar things. And there I sat, full of dazed
wonders, until the flame of the match burnt my finger, and I dropped it;
while a hasty expression of pain and anger, escaped my lips, surprising
me with the sound of my own voice.
After a moment, I struck another match, and, stumbling across the room,
lit the candles. As I did so, I observed that they had not burned away,
but had been put out.
As the flames shot up, I turned, and stared about the study; yet there
was nothing unusual to see; and, suddenly, a gust of irritation took me.
What had happened? I held my head, with both hands, and tried to
remember. Ah! the great, silent Plain, and the ring-shaped sun of red
fire. Where were they? Where had I seen them? How long ago? I felt dazed
and muddled. Once or twice, I walked up and down the room, unsteadily.
My memory seemed dulled, and, already, the thing I had witnessed came
back to me with an effort.
I have a remembrance of cursing, peevishly, in my bewilderment.
Suddenly, I turned faint and giddy, and had to grasp at the table for
support. During a few moments, I held on, weakly; and then managed to
totter sideways into a chair. After a little time, I felt somewhat
better, and succeeded in reaching the cupboard where, usually, I keep
brandy and biscuits. I poured myself out a little of the stimulant, and
drank it off. Then, taking a handful of biscuits, I returned to my
chair, and began to devour them, ravenously. I was vaguely surprised at
my hunger. I felt as though I had eaten nothing for an uncountably
As I ate, my glance roved about the room, taking in its various
details, and still searching, though almost unconsciously, for something
tangible upon which to take hold, among the invisible mysteries that
encompassed me. 'Surely,' I thought, 'there must be something--' And, in
the same instant, my gaze dwelt upon the face of the clock in the
opposite corner. Therewith, I stopped eating, and just stared. For,
though its ticking indicated most certainly that it was still going, the
hands were pointing to a little _before_ the hour of midnight; whereas
it was, as well I knew, considerably _after_ that time when I had
witnessed the first of the strange happenings I have just described.
For perhaps a moment I was astounded and puzzled. Had the hour been the
same as when I had last seen the clock, I should have concluded that the
hands had stuck in one place, while the internal mechanism went on as
usual; but that would, in no way, account for the hands having traveled
backward. Then, even as I turned the matter over in my wearied brain,
the thought flashed upon me that it was now close upon the morning of
the twenty-second, and that I had been unconscious to the visible world
through the greater portion of the last twenty-four hours. The thought
occupied my attention for a full minute; then I commenced to eat again.
I was still very hungry.
During breakfast, next morning, I inquired casually of my sister
regarding the date, and found my surmise correct. I had, indeed, been
absent--at least in spirit--for nearly a day and a night.
My sister asked me no questions; for it is not by any means the first
time that I have kept to my study for a whole day, and sometimes a
couple of days at a time, when I have been particularly engrossed in my
books or work.
And so the days pass on, and I am still filled with a wonder to know
the meaning of all that I saw on that memorable night. Yet, well I know
that my curiosity is little likely to be satisfied.
THE THING IN THE PIT
This house is, as I have said before, surrounded by a huge estate, and
wild and uncultivated gardens.
Away at the back, distant some three hundred yards, is a dark, deep
ravine--spoken of as the 'Pit,' by the peasantry. At the bottom runs a
sluggish stream so overhung by trees as scarcely to be seen from above.
In passing, I must explain that this river has a subterranean origin,
emerging suddenly at the East end of the ravine, and disappearing, as
abruptly, beneath the cliffs that form its Western extremity.
It was some months after my vision (if vision it were) of the great
Plain that my attention was particularly attracted to the Pit.
I happened, one day, to be walking along its Southern edge, when,
suddenly, several pieces of rock and shale were dislodged from the face
of the cliff immediately beneath me, and fell with a sullen crash
through the trees. I heard them splash in the river at the bottom; and
then silence. I should not have given this incident more than a passing
thought, had not Pepper at once begun to bark savagely; nor would he be
silent when I bade him, which is most unusual behavior on his part.
Feeling that there must be someone or something in the Pit, I went back
to the house, quickly, for a stick. When I returned, Pepper had ceased
his barks and was growling and smelling, uneasily, along the top.
Whistling to him to follow me, I started to descend cautiously. The
depth to the bottom of the Pit must be about a hundred and fifty feet,
and some time as well as considerable care was expended before we
reached the bottom in safety.
Once down, Pepper and I started to explore along the banks of the
river. It was very dark there due to the overhanging trees, and I moved
warily, keeping my glance about me and my stick ready.
Pepper was quiet now and kept close to me all the time. Thus, we
searched right up one side of the river, without hearing or seeing
anything. Then, we crossed over--by the simple method of jumping--and
commenced to beat our way back through the underbrush.
We had accomplished perhaps half the distance, when I heard again the
sound of falling stones on the other side--the side from which we had
just come. One large rock came thundering down through the treetops,
struck the opposite bank, and bounded into the river, driving a great
jet of water right over us. At this, Pepper gave out a deep growl; then
stopped, and pricked up his ears. I listened, also.
A second later, a loud, half-human, half-piglike squeal sounded from
among the trees, apparently about halfway up the South cliff. It was
answered by a similar note from the bottom of the Pit. At this, Pepper
gave a short, sharp bark, and, springing across the little river,
disappeared into the bushes.
Immediately afterward, I heard his barks increase in depth and number,
and in between there sounded a noise of confused jabbering. This ceased,
and, in the succeeding silence, there rose a semi-human yell of agony.
Almost immediately, Pepper gave a long-drawn howl of pain, and then the
shrubs were violently agitated, and he came running out with his tail
down, and glancing as he ran over his shoulder. As he reached me, I saw
that he was bleeding from what appeared to be a great claw wound in the
side that had almost laid bare his ribs.
Seeing Pepper thus mutilated, a furious feeling of anger seized me,
and, whirling my staff, I sprang across, and into the bushes from which
Pepper had emerged. As I forced my way through, I thought I heard a
sound of breathing. Next instant, I had burst into a little clear space,
just in time to see something, livid white in color, disappear among the
bushes on the opposite side. With a shout, I ran toward it; but, though
I struck and probed among the bushes with my stick, I neither saw nor
heard anything further; and so returned to Pepper. There, after bathing
his wound in the river, I bound my wetted handkerchief 'round his body;
having done which, we retreated up the ravine and into the
daylight again.
On reaching the house, my sister inquired what had happened to Pepper,
and I told her he had been fighting with a wildcat, of which I had heard
there were several about.
I felt it would be better not to tell her how it had really happened;
though, to be sure, I scarcely knew myself; but this I did know, that
the thing I had seen run into the bushes was no wildcat. It was much too
big, and had, so far as I had observed, a skin like a hog's, only of a
dead, unhealthy white color. And then--it had run upright, or nearly so,
upon its hind feet, with a motion somewhat resembling that of a human
being. This much I had noticed in my brief glimpse, and, truth to tell,
I felt a good deal of uneasiness, besides curiosity as I turned the
matter over in my mind.
It was in the morning that the above incident had occurred.
Then, it would be after dinner, as I sat reading, that, happening to
look up suddenly, I saw something peering in over the window ledge the
eyes and ears alone showing.
'A pig, by Jove!' I said, and rose to my feet. Thus, I saw the thing
more completely; but it was no pig--God alone knows what it was. It
reminded me, vaguely, of the hideous Thing that had haunted the great
arena. It had a grotesquely human mouth and jaw; but with no chin of
which to speak. The nose was prolonged into a snout; thus it was that
with the little eyes and queer ears, gave it such an extraordinarily
swinelike appearance. Of forehead there was little, and the whole face
was of an unwholesome white color.
For perhaps a minute, I stood looking at the thing with an ever growing
feeling of disgust, and some fear. The mouth kept jabbering, inanely,
and once emitted a half-swinish grunt. I think it was the eyes that
attracted me the most; they seemed to glow, at times, with a horribly
human intelligence, and kept flickering away from my face, over the
details of the room, as though my stare disturbed it.
It appeared to be supporting itself by two clawlike hands upon the
windowsill. These claws, unlike the face, were of a clayey brown hue,
and bore an indistinct resemblance to human hands, in that they had four
fingers and a thumb; though these were webbed up to the first joint,
much as are a duck's. Nails it had also, but so long and powerful that
they were more like the talons of an eagle than aught else.
As I have said, before, I felt some fear; though almost of an
impersonal kind. I may explain my feeling better by saying that it was
more a sensation of abhorrence; such as one might expect to feel, if
brought in contact with something superhumanly foul; something
unholy--belonging to some hitherto undreamt of state of existence.
I cannot say that I grasped these various details of the brute at the
time. I think they seemed to come back to me, afterward, as though
imprinted upon my brain. I imagined more than I saw as I looked at the
thing, and the material details grew upon me later.
For perhaps a minute I stared at the creature; then as my nerves
steadied a little I shook off the vague alarm that held me, and took a
step toward the window. Even as I did so, the thing ducked and vanished.
I rushed to the door and looked 'round hurriedly; but only the tangled
bushes and shrubs met my gaze.
I ran back into the house, and, getting my gun, sallied out to search
through the gardens. As I went, I asked myself whether the thing I had
just seen was likely to be the same of which I had caught a glimpse in
the morning. I inclined to think it was.
I would have taken Pepper with me; but judged it better to give his
wound a chance to heal. Besides, if the creature I had just seen was, as
I imagined, his antagonist of the morning, it was not likely that he
would be of much use.
I began my search, systematically. I was determined, if it were
possible, to find and put an end to that swine-thing. This was, at
least, a material Horror!
At first, I searched, cautiously; with the thought of Pepper's wound in
my mind; but, as the hours passed, and not a sign of anything living,
showed in the great, lonely gardens, I became less apprehensive. I felt
almost as though I would welcome the sight of it. Anything seemed better
than this silence, with the ever-present feeling that the creature might
be lurking in every bush I passed. Later, I grew careless of danger, to
the extent of plunging right through the bushes, probing with my gun
barrel as I went.
At times, I shouted; but only the echoes answered back. I thought thus
perhaps to frighten or stir the creature to showing itself; but only
succeeded in bringing my sister Mary out, to know what was the matter. I
told her, that I had seen the wildcat that had wounded Pepper, and that
I was trying to hunt it out of the bushes. She seemed only half
satisfied, and went back into the house, with an expression of doubt
upon her face. I wondered whether she had seen or guessed anything. For
the rest of the afternoon, I prosecuted the search anxiously. I felt
that I should be unable to sleep, with that bestial thing haunting the
shrubberies, and yet, when evening fell, I had seen nothing. Then, as I
turned homeward, I heard a short, unintelligible noise, among the bushes
to my right. Instantly, I turned, and, aiming quickly, fired in the
direction of the sound. Immediately afterward, I heard something
scuttling away among the bushes. It moved rapidly, and in a minute had
gone out of hearing. After a few steps I ceased my pursuit, realizing
how futile it must be in the fast gathering gloom; and so, with a
curious feeling of depression, I entered the house.
That night, after my sister had gone to bed, I went 'round to all the
windows and doors on the ground floor; and saw to it that they were
securely fastened. This precaution was scarcely necessary as regards the
windows, as all of those on the lower storey are strongly barred; but
with the doors--of which there are five--it was wisely thought, as not
one was locked.
Having secured these, I went to my study, yet, somehow, for once, the
place jarred upon me; it seemed so huge and echoey. For some time I
tried to read; but at last finding it impossible I carried my book down
to the kitchen where a large fire was burning, and sat there.
I dare say, I had read for a couple of hours, when, suddenly, I heard a
sound that made me lower my book, and listen, intently. It was a noise
of something rubbing and fumbling against the back door. Once the door
creaked, loudly; as though force were being applied to it. During those
few, short moments, I experienced an indescribable feeling of terror,
such as I should have believed impossible. My hands shook; a cold sweat
broke out on me, and I shivered violently.
Gradually, I calmed. The stealthy movements outside had ceased.
Then for an hour I sat silent and watchful. All at once the feeling of
fear took me again. I felt as I imagine an animal must, under the eye of
a snake. Yet now I could hear nothing. Still, there was no doubting that
some unexplained influence was at work.
Gradually, imperceptibly almost, something stole on my ear--a sound
that resolved itself into a faint murmur. Quickly it developed and grew
into a muffled but hideous chorus of bestial shrieks. It appeared to
rise from the bowels of the earth.
I heard a thud, and realized in a dull, half comprehending way that I
had dropped my book. After that, I just sat; and thus the daylight found
me, when it crept wanly in through the barred, high windows of the
great kitchen.
With the dawning light, the feeling of stupor and fear left me; and I
came more into possession of my senses.
Thereupon I picked up my book, and crept to the door to listen. Not a
sound broke the chilly silence. For some minutes I stood there; then,
very gradually and cautiously, I drew back the bolt and opening the door
My caution was unneeded. Nothing was to be seen, save the grey vista of
dreary, tangled bushes and trees, extending to the distant plantation.
With a shiver, I closed the door, and made my way, quietly, up to bed.
THE SWINE-THINGS
It was evening, a week later. My sister sat in the garden, knitting. I
was walking up and down, reading. My gun leant up against the wall of
the house; for, since the advent of that strange thing in the gardens, I
had deemed it wise to take precautions. Yet, through the whole week,
there had been nothing to alarm me, either by sight or sound; so that I
was able to look back, calmly, to the incident; though still with a
sense of unmitigated wonder and curiosity.
I was, as I have just said, walking up and down, and somewhat engrossed
in my book. Suddenly, I heard a crash, away in the direction of the Pit.
With a quick movement, I turned and saw a tremendous column of dust
rising high into the evening air.
My sister had risen to her feet, with a sharp exclamation of surprise
Telling her to stay where she was, I snatched up my gun, and ran toward
the Pit. As I neared it, I heard a dull, rumbling sound, that grew
quickly into a roar, split with deeper crashes, and up from the Pit
drove a fresh volume of dust.
The noise ceased, though the dust still rose, tumultuously.
I reached the edge, and looked down; but could see nothing save a boil
of dust clouds swirling hither and thither. The air was so full of the
small particles, that they blinded and choked me; and, finally, I had to
run out from the smother, to breathe.
Gradually, the suspended matter sank, and hung in a panoply over the
mouth of the Pit.
I could only guess at what had happened.
That there had been a land-slip of some kind, I had little doubt; but
the cause was beyond my knowledge; and yet, even then, I had half
imaginings; for, already, the thought had come to me, of those falling
rocks, and that Thing in the bottom of the Pit; but, in the first
minutes of confusion, I failed to reach the natural conclusion, to which
the catastrophe pointed.
Slowly, the dust subsided, until, presently, I was able to approach the
edge, and look down.
For a while, I peered impotently, trying to see through the reek. At
first, it was impossible to make out anything. Then, as I stared, I saw
something below, to my left, that moved. I looked intently toward it,
and, presently, made out another, and then another--three dim shapes
that appeared to be climbing up the side of the Pit. I could see them
only indistinctly. Even as I stared and wondered, I heard a rattle of
stones, somewhere to my right. I glanced across; but could see nothing.
I leant forward, and peered over, and down into the Pit, just beneath
where I stood; and saw no further than a hideous, white swine-face, that
had risen to within a couple of yards of my feet. Below it, I could make
out several others. As the Thing saw me, it gave a sudden, uncouth
squeal, which was answered from all parts of the Pit. At that, a gust of
horror and fear took me, and, bending down, I discharged my gun right
into its face. Straightway, the creature disappeared, with a clatter of
loose earth and stones.
There was a momentary silence, to which, probably, I owe my life; for,
during it, I heard a quick patter of many feet, and, turning sharply,
saw a troop of the creatures coming toward me, at a run. Instantly, I
raised my gun and fired at the foremost, who plunged head-long, with a
hideous howling. Then, I turned to run. More than halfway from the house
to the Pit, I saw my sister--she was coming toward me. I could not see
her face, distinctly, as the dusk had fallen; but there was fear in her
voice as she called to know why I was shooting.
'Run!' I shouted in reply. 'Run for your life!'
Without more ado, she turned and fled--picking up her skirts with both
hands. As I followed, I gave a glance behind. The brutes were running on
their hind legs--at times dropping on all fours.
I think it must have been the terror in my voice, that spurred Mary to
run so; for I feel convinced that she had not, as yet, seen those hell
creatures that pursued.
On we went, my sister leading.
Each moment, the nearing sounds of the footsteps, told me that the
brutes were gaining on us, rapidly. Fortunately, I am accustomed to
live, in some ways, an active life. As it was, the strain of the race
was beginning to tell severely upon me.
Ahead, I could see the back door--luckily it was open. I was some
half-dozen yards behind Mary, now, and my breath was sobbing in my
throat. Then, something touched my shoulder. I wrenched my head 'round,
quickly, and saw one of those monstrous, pallid faces close to mine. One
of the creatures, having outrun its companions, had almost overtaken me.
Even as I turned, it made a fresh grab. With a sudden effort, I sprang
to one side, and, swinging my gun by the barrel, brought it crashing
down upon the foul creature's head. The Thing dropped, with an almost
human groan.
Even this short delay had been nearly sufficient to bring the rest of
the brutes down upon me; so that, without an instant's waste of time, I
turned and ran for the door.
Reaching it, I burst into the passage; then, turning quickly, slammed
and bolted the door, just as the first of the creatures rushed against
it, with a sudden shock.
My sister sat, gasping, in a chair. She seemed in a fainting condition;
but I had no time then to spend on her. I had to make sure that all the
doors were fastened. Fortunately, they were. The one leading from my
study into the gardens, was the last to which I went. I had just had
time to note that it was secured, when I thought I heard a noise
outside. I stood perfectly silent, and listened. Yes! Now I could
distinctly hear a sound of whispering, and something slithered over the
panels, with a rasping, scratchy noise. Evidently, some of the brutes
were feeling with their claw-hands, about the door, to discover whether
there were any means of ingress.
That the creatures should so soon have found the door was--to me--a
proof of their reasoning capabilities. It assured me that they must not
be regarded, by any means, as mere animals. I had felt something of this
before, when that first Thing peered in through my window. Then I had
applied the term superhuman to it, with an almost instinctive knowledge
that the creature was something different from the brute-beast.
Something beyond human; yet in no good sense; but rather as something
foul and hostile to the _great_ and _good_ in humanity. In a word, as
something intelligent, and yet inhuman. The very thought of the
creatures filled me with revulsion.
Now, I bethought me of my sister, and, going to the cupboard, I got
out a flask of brandy, and a wine-glass. Taking these, I went down to
the kitchen, carrying a lighted candle with me. She was not sitting in
the chair, but had fallen out, and was lying upon the floor,
face downward.
Very gently, I turned her over, and raised her head somewhat. Then, I
poured a little of the brandy between her lips. After a while, she
shivered slightly. A little later, she gave several gasps, and opened
her eyes. In a dreamy, unrealizing way, she looked at me. Then her eyes
closed, slowly, and I gave her a little more of the brandy. For, perhaps
a minute longer, she lay silent, breathing quickly. All at once, her
eyes opened again, and it seemed to me, as I looked, that the pupils
were dilated, as though fear had come with returning consciousness.
Then, with a movement so unexpected that I started backward, she sat up.
Noticing that she seemed giddy, I put out my hand to steady her. At
that, she gave a loud scream, and, scrambling to her feet, ran from
For a moment, I stayed there--kneeling and holding the brandy flask. I
was utterly puzzled and astonished.
Could she be afraid of me? But no! Why should she? I could only
conclude that her nerves were badly shaken, and that she was temporarily
unhinged. Upstairs, I heard a door bang, loudly, and I knew that she had
taken refuge in her room. I put the flask down on the table. My
attention was distracted by a noise in the direction of the back door. I
went toward it, and listened. It appeared to be shaken, as though some
of the creatures struggled with it, silently; but it was far too
strongly constructed and hung to be easily moved.
Out in the gardens rose a continuous sound. It might have been
mistaken, by a casual listener, for the grunting and squealing of a herd
of pigs. But, as I stood there, it came to me that there was sense and
meaning to all those swinish noises. Gradually, I seemed able to trace
a semblance in it to human speech--glutinous and sticky, as though each
articulation were made with difficulty: yet, nevertheless, I was
becoming convinced that it was no mere medley of sounds; but a rapid
interchange of ideas.
By this time, it had grown quite dark in the passages, and from these
came all the varied cries and groans of which an old house is so full
after nightfall. It is, no doubt, because things are then quieter, and
one has more leisure to hear. Also, there may be something in the theory
that the sudden change of temperature, at sundown, affects the structure
of the house, somewhat--causing it to contract and settle, as it were,
for the night. However, this is as may be; but, on that night in
particular, I would gladly have been quit of so many eerie noises. It
seemed to me, that each crack and creak was the coming of one of those
Things along the dark corridors; though I knew in my heart that this
could not be, for I had seen, myself, that all the doors were secure.
Gradually, however, these sounds grew on my nerves to such an extent
that, were it only to punish my cowardice, I felt I must make the 'round
of the basement again, and, if anything were there, face it. And then, I
would go up to my study, for I knew sleep was out of the question, with
the house surrounded by creatures, half beasts, half something else, and
entirely unholy.
Taking the kitchen lamp down from its hook, I made my way from cellar
to cellar, and room to room; through pantry and coal-hole--along
passages, and into the hundred-and-one little blind alleys and hidden
nooks that form the basement of the old house. Then, when I knew I had
been in every corner and cranny large enough to conceal aught of any
size, I made my way to the stairs.
With my foot on the first step, I paused. It seemed to me, I heard a
movement, apparently from the buttery, which is to the left of the
staircase. It had been one of the first places I searched, and yet, I
felt certain my ears had not deceived me. My nerves were strung now,
and, with hardly any hesitation, I stepped up to the door, holding the
lamp above my head. In a glance, I saw that the place was empty, save
for the heavy, stone slabs, supported by brick pillars; and I was about
to leave it, convinced that I had been mistaken; when, in turning, my
light was flashed back from two bright spots outside the window, and
high up. For a few moments, I stood there, staring. Then they
moved--revolving slowly, and throwing out alternate scintillations of
green and red; at least, so it appeared to me. I knew then that they
Slowly, I traced the shadowy outline of one of the Things. It appeared
to be holding on to the bars of the window, and its attitude suggested
climbing. I went nearer to the window, and held the light higher. There
was no need to be afraid of the creature; the bars were strong, and
there was little danger of its being able to move them. And then,
suddenly, in spite of the knowledge that the brute could not reach to
harm me, I had a return of the horrible sensation of fear, that had
assailed me on that night, a week previously. It was the same feeling of
helpless, shuddering fright. I realized, dimly, that the creature's eyes
were looking into mine with a steady, compelling stare. I tried to turn
away; but could not. I seemed, now, to see the window through a mist.
Then, I thought other eyes came and peered, and yet others; until a
whole galaxy of malignant, staring orbs seemed to hold me in thrall.
My head began to swim, and throb violently. Then, I was aware of a
feeling of acute physical pain in my left hand. It grew more severe, and
forced, literally forced, my attention. With a tremendous effort, I
glanced down; and, with that, the spell that had held me was broken. I
realized, then, that I had, in my agitation, unconsciously caught hold
of the hot lamp-glass, and burnt my hand, badly. I looked up to the
window, again. The misty appearance had gone, and, now, I saw that it
was crowded with dozens of bestial faces. With a sudden access of rage,
I raised the lamp, and hurled it, full at the window. It struck the
glass (smashing a pane), and passed between two of the bars, out into
the garden, scattering burning oil as it went. I heard several loud
cries of pain, and, as my sight became accustomed to the dark, I
discovered that the creatures had left the window.
Pulling myself together, I groped for the door, and, having found it,
made my way upstairs, stumbling at each step. I felt dazed, as though I
had received a blow on the head. At the same time, my hand smarted
badly, and I was full of a nervous, dull rage against those Things.
Reaching my study, I lit the candles. As they burnt up, their rays were
reflected from the rack of firearms on the sidewall. At the sight, I
remembered that I had there a power, which, as I had proved earlier,
seemed as fatal to those monsters as to more ordinary animals; and I
determined I would take the offensive.
First of all, I bound up my hand; for the pain was fast becoming
intolerable. After that, it seemed easier, and I crossed the room, to
the rifle stand. There, I selected a heavy rifle--an old and tried
weapon; and, having procured ammunition, I made my way up into one of
the small towers, with which the house is crowned.
From there, I found that I could see nothing. The gardens presented a
dim blur of shadows--a little blacker, perhaps, where the trees stood.
That was all, and I knew that it was useless to shoot down into all that
darkness. The only thing to be done, was to wait for the moon to rise;
then, I might be able to do a little execution.
In the meantime, I sat still, and kept my ears open. The gardens were
comparatively quiet now, and only an occasional grunt or squeal came up
to me. I did not like this silence; it made me wonder on what devilry
the creatures were bent. Twice, I left the tower, and took a walk
through the house; but everything was silent.
Once, I heard a noise, from the direction of the Pit, as though more
earth had fallen. Following this, and lasting for some fifteen minutes,
there was a commotion among the denizens of the gardens. This died away,
and, after that all was again quiet.
About an hour later, the moon's light showed above the distant horizon.
From where I sat, I could see it over the trees; but it was not until it
rose clear of them, that I could make out any of the details in the
gardens below. Even then, I could see none of the brutes; until,
happening to crane forward, I saw several of them lying prone, up
against the wall of the house. What they were doing, I could not make
out. It was, however, a chance too good to be ignored; and, taking aim,
I fired at the one directly beneath. There was a shrill scream, and, as
the smoke cleared away, I saw that it had turned on its back, and was
writhing, feebly. Then, it was quiet. The others had disappeared.
Immediately after this, I heard a loud squeal, in the direction of the
Pit. It was answered, a hundred times, from every part of the garden.
This gave me some notion of the number of the creatures, and I began to
feel that the whole affair was becoming even more serious than I
had imagined.
As I sat there, silent and watchful, the thought came to me--Why was
all this? What were these Things? What did it mean? Then my thoughts
flew back to that vision (though, even now, I doubt whether it was a
vision) of the Plain of Silence. What did that mean? I wondered--And
that Thing in the arena? Ugh! Lastly, I thought of the house I had seen
in that far-away place. That house, so like this in every detail of
external structure, that it might have been modeled from it; or this
from that. I had never thought of that--
At this moment, there came another long squeal, from the Pit, followed,
a second later, by a couple of shorter ones. At once, the garden was
filled with answering cries. I stood up, quickly, and looked over the
parapet. In the moonlight, it seemed as though the shrubberies were
alive. They tossed hither and thither, as though shaken by a strong,
irregular wind; while a continuous rustling, and a noise of scampering
feet, rose up to me. Several times, I saw the moonlight gleam on
running, white figures among the bushes, and, twice, I fired. The second
time, my shot was answered by a short squeal of pain.
A minute later, the gardens lay silent. From the Pit, came a deep,
hoarse Babel of swine-talk. At times, angry cries smote the air, and
they would be answered by multitudinous gruntings. It occurred to me,
that they were holding some kind of a council, perhaps to discuss the
problem of entering the house. Also, I thought that they seemed much
enraged, probably by my successful shots.
It occurred to me, that now would be a good time to make a final survey
of our defenses. This, I proceeded to do at once; visiting the whole of
the basement again, and examining each of the doors. Luckily, they are
all, like the back one, built of solid, iron-studded oak. Then, I went
upstairs to the study. I was more anxious about this door. It is,
palpably, of a more modern make than the others, and, though a stout
piece of work, it has little of their ponderous strength.
I must explain here, that there is a small, raised lawn on this side of
the house, upon which this door opens--the windows of the study being
barred on this account. All the other entrances--excepting the great
gateway which is never opened--are in the lower storey.
I spent some time, puzzling how to strengthen the study door. Finally,
I went down to the kitchen, and with some trouble, brought up several
heavy pieces of timber. These, I wedged up, slantwise, against it, from
the floor, nailing them top and bottom. For half-an-hour, I worked hard,
and, at last, got it shored to my mind.
Then, feeling easier, I resumed my coat, which I had laid aside, and
proceeded to attend to one or two matters before returning to the tower.
It was whilst thus employed, that I heard a fumbling at the door, and
the latch was tried. Keeping silence, I waited. Soon, I heard several of
the creatures outside. They were grunting to one another, softly. Then,
for a minute, there was quietness. Suddenly, there sounded a quick, low
grunt, and the door creaked under a tremendous pressure. It would have
burst inward; but for the supports I had placed. The strain ceased, as
quickly as it had begun, and there was more talk.
Presently, one of the Things squealed, softly, and I heard the sound
of others approaching. There was a short confabulation; then again,
silence; and I realized that they had called several more to assist.
Feeling that now was the supreme moment, I stood ready, with my rifle
presented. If the door gave, I would, at least, slay as many
as possible.
Again came the low signal; and, once more, the door cracked, under a
huge force. For, a minute perhaps, the pressure was kept up; and I
waited, nervously; expecting each moment to see the door come down with
a crash. But no; the struts held, and the attempt proved abortive. Then
followed more of their horrible, grunting talk, and, whilst it lasted, I
thought I distinguished the noise of fresh arrivals.
After a long discussion, during which the door was several times
shaken, they became quiet once more, and I knew that they were going to
make a third attempt to break it down. I was almost in despair. The
props had been severely tried in the two previous attacks, and I was
sorely afraid that this would prove too much for them.
At that moment, like an inspiration, a thought flashed into my troubled
brain. Instantly, for it was no time to hesitate, I ran from the room,
and up stair after stair. This time, it was not to one of the towers,
that I went; but out on to the flat, leaded roof itself. Once there, I
raced across to the parapet, that walls it 'round, and looked down. As I
did so, I heard the short, grunted signal, and, even up there, caught
the crying of the door under the assault.
There was not a moment to lose, and, leaning over, I aimed, quickly,
and fired. The report rang sharply, and, almost blending with it, came
the loud splud of the bullet striking its mark. From below, rose a
shrill wail; and the door ceased its groaning. Then, as I took my weight
from off the parapet, a huge piece of the stone coping slid from under
me, and fell with a crash among the disorganized throng beneath.
Several horrible shrieks quavered through the night air, and then I
heard a sound of scampering feet. Cautiously, I looked over. In the
moonlight, I could see the great copingstone, lying right across the
threshold of the door. I thought I saw something under it--several
things, white; but I could not be sure.
And so a few minutes passed.
As I stared, I saw something come 'round, out of the shadow of the
house. It was one of the Things. It went up to the stone, silently, and
bent down. I was unable to see what it did. In a minute it stood up. It
had something in its talons, which it put to its mouth and tore at....
For the moment, I did not realize. Then, slowly, I comprehended. The
Thing was stooping again. It was horrible. I started to load my rifle.
When I looked again, the monster was tugging at the stone--moving it to
one side. I leant the rifle on the coping, and pulled the trigger. The
brute collapsed, on its face, and kicked, slightly.
Simultaneously, almost, with the report, I heard another sound--that of
breaking glass. Waiting, only to recharge my weapon, I ran from the
roof, and down the first two flights of stairs.
Here, I paused to listen. As I did so, there came another tinkle of
falling glass. It appeared to come from the floor below. Excitedly, I
sprang down the steps, and, guided by the rattle of the window-sash,
reached the door of one of the empty bedrooms, at the back of the house.
I thrust it open. The room was but dimly illuminated by the moonlight;
most of the light being blotted out by moving figures at the window.
Even as I stood, one crawled through, into the room. Leveling my weapon,
I fired point-blank at it--filling the room with a deafening bang. When
the smoke cleared, I saw that the room was empty, and the window free.
The room was much lighter. The night air blew in, coldly, through the
shattered panes. Down below, in the night, I could hear a soft moaning,
and a confused murmur of swine-voices.
Stepping to one side of the window, I reloaded, and then stood there,
waiting. Presently, I heard a scuffling noise. From where I stood in the
shadow, I could see, without being seen.
Nearer came the sounds, and then I saw something come up above the
sill, and clutch at the broken window-frame. It caught a piece of the
woodwork; and, now, I could make out that it was a hand and arm. A
moment later, the face of one of the Swine-creatures rose into view.
Then, before I could use my rifle, or do anything, there came a sharp
crack--cr-ac-k; and the window-frame gave way under the weight of the
Thing. Next instant, a squashing thud, and a loud outcry, told me that
it had fallen to the ground. With a savage hope that it had been killed,
I went to the window. The moon had gone behind a cloud, so that I could
see nothing; though a steady hum of jabbering, just beneath where I
stood, indicated that there were several more of the brutes close
As I stood there, looking down, I marveled how it had been possible for
the creatures to climb so far; for the wall is comparatively smooth,
while the distance to the ground must be, at least, eighty feet.
All at once, as I bent, peering, I saw something, indistinctly, that
cut the grey shadow of the house-side, with a black line. It passed the
window, to the left, at a distance of about two feet. Then, I remembered
that it was a gutter-pipe, that had been put there some years ago, to
carry off the rainwater. I had forgotten about it. I could see, now, how
the creatures had managed to reach the window. Even as the solution came
to me, I heard a faint slithering, scratching noise, and knew that
another of the brutes was coming. I waited some odd moments; then leant
out of the window and felt the pipe. To my delight, I found that it was
quite loose, and I managed, using the rifle-barrel as a crowbar, to
lever it out from the wall. I worked quickly. Then, taking hold with
both bands, I wrenched the whole concern away, and hurled it down--with
the Thing still clinging to it--into the garden.
For a few minutes longer, I waited there, listening; but, after the
first general outcry, I heard nothing. I knew, now, that there was no
more reason to fear an attack from this quarter. I had removed the only
means of reaching the window, and, as none of the other windows had any
adjacent water pipes, to tempt the climbing powers of the monsters, I
began to feel more confident of escaping their clutches.
Leaving the room, I made my way down to the study. I was anxious to see
how the door had withstood the test of that last assault. Entering, I
lit two of the candles, and then turned to the door. One of the large
props had been displaced, and, on that side, the door had been forced
inward some six inches.
It was Providential that I had managed to drive the brutes away just
when I did! And that copingstone! I wondered, vaguely, how I had managed
to dislodge it. I had not noticed it loose, as I took my shot; and then,
as I stood up, it had slipped away from beneath me ... I felt that I
owed the dismissal of the attacking force, more to its timely fall than
to my rifle. Then the thought came, that I had better seize this chance
to shore up the door, again. It was evident that the creatures had not
returned since the fall of the copingstone; but who was to say how long
they would keep away?
There and then, I set-to, at repairing the door--working hard and
anxiously. First, I went down to the basement, and, rummaging 'round,
found several pieces of heavy oak planking. With these, I returned to
the study, and, having removed the props, placed the planks up against
the door. Then, I nailed the heads of the struts to these, and, driving
them well home at the bottoms, nailed them again there.
Thus, I made the door stronger than ever; for now it was solid with the
backing of boards, and would, I felt convinced, stand a heavier pressure
than hitherto, without giving way.
After that, I lit the lamp which I had brought from the kitchen, and
went down to have a look at the lower windows.
Now that I had seen an instance of the strength the creatures
possessed, I felt considerable anxiety about the windows on the ground
floor--in spite of the fact that they were so strongly barred.
I went first to the buttery, having a vivid remembrance of my late
adventure there. The place was chilly, and the wind, soughing in through
the broken glass, produced an eerie note. Apart from the general air of
dismalness, the place was as I had left it the night before. Going up to
the window, I examined the bars, closely; noting, as I did so, their
comfortable thickness. Still, as I looked more intently, it seemed to
me, that the middle bar was bent slightly from the straight; yet it was
but trifling, and it might have been so for years. I had never, before,
noticed them particularly.
I put my hand through the broken window, and shook the bar. It was as
firm as a rock. Perhaps the creatures had tried to 'start' it, and,
finding it beyond their power, ceased from the effort. After that, I
went 'round to each of the windows, in turn; examining them with careful
attention; but nowhere else could I trace anything to show that there
had been any tampering. Having finished my survey, I went back to the
study, and poured myself out a little brandy. Then to the tower
AFTER THE ATTACK
It was now about three a.m., and, presently, the Eastern sky began to
pale with the coming of dawn. Gradually, the day came, and, by its
light, I scanned the gardens, earnestly; but nowhere could I see any
signs of the brutes. I leant over, and glanced down to the foot of the
wall, to see whether the body of the Thing I had shot the night before
was still there. It was gone. I supposed that others of the monsters had
removed it during the night.
Then, I went down on to the roof, and crossed over to the gap from
which the coping stone had fallen. Reaching it, I looked over. Yes,
there was the stone, as I had seen it last; but there was no appearance
of anything beneath it; nor could I see the creatures I had killed,
after its fall. Evidently, they also had been taken away. I turned, and
went down to my study. There, I sat down, wearily. I was thoroughly
tired. It was quite light now; though the sun's rays were not, as yet,
perceptibly hot. A clock chimed the hour of four.
I awoke, with a start, and looked 'round, hurriedly. The clock in the
corner, indicated that it was three o'clock. It was already afternoon. I
must have slept for nearly eleven hours.
With a jerky movement, I sat forward in the chair, and listened. The
house was perfectly silent. Slowly, I stood up, and yawned. I felt
desperately tired, still, and sat down again; wondering what it was that
had waked me.
It must have been the clock striking, I concluded, presently; and was
commencing to doze off, when a sudden noise brought me back, once more,
to life. It was the sound of a step, as of a person moving cautiously
down the corridor, toward my study. In an instant, I was on my feet, and
grasping my rifle. Noiselessly, I waited. Had the creatures broken in,
whilst I slept? Even as I questioned, the steps reached my door, halted
momentarily, and then continued down the passage. Silently, I tiptoed to
the doorway, and peeped out. Then, I experienced such a feeling of
relief, as must a reprieved criminal--it was my sister. She was going
toward the stairs.
I stepped into the hall, and was about to call to her, when it occurred
to me, that it was very queer she should have crept past my door, in
that stealthy manner. I was puzzled, and, for one brief moment, the
thought occupied my mind, that it was not she, but some fresh mystery of
the house. Then, as I caught a glimpse of her old petticoat, the thought
passed as quickly as it had come, and I half laughed. There could be no
mistaking that ancient garment. Yet, I wondered what she was doing; and,
remembering her condition of mind, on the previous day, I felt that it
might be best to follow, quietly--taking care not to alarm her--and see
what she was going to do. If she behaved rationally, well and good; if
not, I should have to take steps to restrain her. I could run no
unnecessary risks, under the danger that threatened us.
Quickly, I reached the head of the stairs, and paused a moment. Then,
I heard a sound that sent me leaping down, at a mad rate--it was the
rattle of bolts being unshot. That foolish sister of mine was actually
unbarring the back door.
Just as her hand was on the last bolt, I reached her. She had not seen
me, and, the first thing she knew, I had hold of her arm. She glanced up
quickly, like a frightened animal, and screamed aloud.
'Come, Mary!' I said, sternly, 'what's the meaning of this nonsense? Do
you mean to tell me you don't understand the danger, that you try to
throw our two lives away in this fashion!'
To this, she replied nothing; only trembled, violently, gasping and
sobbing, as though in the last extremity of fear.
Through some minutes, I reasoned with her; pointing out the need for
caution, and asking her to be brave. There was little to be afraid of
now, I explained--and, I tried to believe that I spoke the truth--but
she must be sensible, and not attempt to leave the house for a few days.
At last, I ceased, in despair. It was no use talking to her; she was,
obviously, not quite herself for the time being. Finally, I told her she
had better go to her room, if she could not behave rationally.
Still, she took not any notice. So, without more ado, I picked her up
in my arms, and carried her there. At first, she screamed, wildly; but
had relapsed into silent trembling, by the time I reached the stairs.
Arriving at her room, I laid her upon the bed. She lay there quietly
enough, neither speaking nor sobbing--just shaking in a very ague of
fear. I took a rug from a chair near by, and spread it over her. I could
do nothing more for her, and so, crossed to where Pepper lay in a big
basket. My sister had taken charge of him since his wound, to nurse him,
for it had proved more severe than I had thought, and I was pleased to
note that, in spite of her state of mind, she had looked after the old
dog, carefully. Stooping, I spoke to him, and, in reply, he licked my
hand, feebly. He was too ill to do more.
Then, going to the bed, I bent over my sister, and asked her how she
felt; but she only shook the more, and, much as it pained me, I had to
admit that my presence seemed to make her worse.
And so, I left her--locking the door, and pocketing the key. It seemed
to be the only course to take.
The rest of the day, I spent between the tower and my study. For food,
I brought up a loaf from the pantry, and on this, and some claret, I
lived for that day.
What a long, weary day it was. If only I could have gone out into the
gardens, as is my wont, I should have been content enough; but to be
cooped in this silent house, with no companion, save a mad woman and a
sick dog, was enough to prey upon the nerves of the hardiest. And out in
the tangled shrubberies that surrounded the house, lurked--for all I
could tell--those infernal Swine-creatures waiting their chance. Was
ever a man in such straits?
Once, in the afternoon, and again, later, I went to visit my sister.
The second time, I found her tending Pepper; but, at my approach, she
slid over, unobtrusively, to the far corner, with a gesture that
saddened me beyond belief. Poor girl! her fear cut me intolerably, and I
would not intrude on her, unnecessarily. She would be better, I trusted,
in a few days; meanwhile, I could do nothing; and I judged it still
needful--hard as it seemed--to keep her confined to her room. One thing
there was that I took for encouragement: she had eaten some of the food
I had taken to her, on my first visit.
And so the day passed.
As the evening drew on, the air grew chilly, and I began to make
preparations for passing a second night in the tower--taking up two
additional rifles, and a heavy ulster. The rifles I loaded, and laid
alongside my other; as I intended to make things warm for any of the
creatures who might show, during the night. I had plenty of ammunition,
and I thought to give the brutes such a lesson, as should show them the
uselessness of attempting to force an entrance.
After that, I made the 'round of the house again; paying particular
attention to the props that supported the study door. Then, feeling that
I had done all that lay in my power to insure our safety, I returned to
the tower; calling in on my sister and Pepper, for a final visit, on the
way. Pepper was asleep; but woke, as I entered, and wagged his tail, in
recognition. I thought he seemed slightly better. My sister was lying on
the bed; though whether asleep or not, I was unable to tell; and thus I
Reaching the tower, I made myself as comfortable as circumstances would
permit, and settled down to watch through the night. Gradually, darkness
fell, and soon the details of the gardens were merged into shadows.
During the first few hours, I sat, alert, listening for any sound that
might help to tell me if anything were stirring down below. It was far
too dark for my eyes to be of much use.
Slowly, the hours passed; without anything unusual happening. And the
moon rose, showing the gardens, apparently empty, and silent. And so,
through the night, without disturbance or sound.
Toward morning, I began to grow stiff and cold, with my long vigil;
also, I was getting very uneasy, concerning the continued quietness on
the part of the creatures. I mistrusted it, and would sooner, far, have
had them attack the house, openly. Then, at least, I should have known
my danger, and been able to meet it; but to wait like this, through a
whole night, picturing all kinds of unknown devilment, was to jeopardize
one's sanity. Once or twice, the thought came to me, that, perhaps, they
had gone; but, in my heart, I found it impossible to believe that it
IN THE CELLARS
At last, what with being tired and cold, and the uneasiness that
possessed me, I resolved to take a walk through the house; first calling
in at the study, for a glass of brandy to warm me. This, I did, and,
while there, I examined the door, carefully; but found all as I had left
it the night before.
The day was just breaking, as I left the tower; though it was still too
dark in the house to be able to see without a light, and I took one of
the study candles with me on my 'round. By the time I had finished the
ground floor, the daylight was creeping in, wanly, through the barred
windows. My search had shown me nothing fresh. Everything appeared to be
in order, and I was on the point of extinguishing my candle, when the
thought suggested itself to me to have another glance 'round the
cellars. I had not, if I remember rightly, been into them since my hasty
search on the evening of the attack.
For, perhaps, the half of a minute, I hesitated. I would have been very
willing to forego the task--as, indeed, I am inclined to think any man
well might--for of all the great, awe-inspiring rooms in this house, the
cellars are the hugest and weirdest. Great, gloomy caverns of places,
unlit by any ray of daylight. Yet, I would not shirk the work. I felt
that to do so would smack of sheer cowardice. Besides, as I reassured
myself, the cellars were really the most unlikely places in which to
come across anything dangerous; considering that they can be entered,
only through a heavy oaken door, the key of which, I carry always on
It is in the smallest of these places that I keep my wine; a gloomy
hole close to the foot of the cellar stairs; and beyond which, I have
seldom proceeded. Indeed, save for the rummage 'round, already
mentioned, I doubt whether I had ever, before, been right through
the cellars.
As I unlocked the great door, at the top of the steps, I paused,
nervously, a moment, at the strange, desolate smell that assailed my
nostrils. Then, throwing the barrel of my weapon forward, I descended,
slowly, into the darkness of the underground regions.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I stood for a minute, and listened.
All was silent, save for a faint drip, drip of water, falling,
drop-by-drop, somewhere to my left. As I stood, I noticed how quietly
the candle burnt; never a flicker nor flare, so utterly windless was
Quietly, I moved from cellar to cellar. I had but a very dim memory of
their arrangement. The impressions left by my first search were blurred.
I had recollections of a succession of great cellars, and of one,
greater than the rest, the roof of which was upheld by pillars; beyond
that my mind was hazy, and predominated by a sense of cold and darkness
and shadows. Now, however, it was different; for, although nervous, I
was sufficiently collected to be able to look about me, and note the
structure and size of the different vaults I entered.
Of course, with the amount of light given by my candle, it was not
possible to examine each place, minutely, but I was enabled to notice,
as I went along, that the walls appeared to be built with wonderful
precision and finish; while here and there, an occasional, massive
pillar shot up to support the vaulted roof.
Thus, I came, at last, to the great cellar that I remembered. It is
reached, through a huge, arched entrance, on which I observed strange,
fantastic carvings, which threw queer shadows under the light of my
candle. As I stood, and examined these, thoughtfully, it occurred to me
how strange it was, that I should be so little acquainted with my own
house. Yet, this may be easily understood, when one realizes the size of
this ancient pile, and the fact that only my old sister and I live in
it, occupying a few of the rooms, such as our wants decide.
Holding the light high, I passed on into the cellar, and, keeping to
the right, paced slowly up, until I reached the further end. I walked
quietly, and looked cautiously about, as I went. But, so far as the
light showed, I saw nothing unusual.
At the top, I turned to the left, still keeping to the wall, and so
continued, until I had traversed the whole of the vast chamber. As I
moved along, I noticed that the floor was composed of solid rock, in
places covered with a damp mould, in others bare, or almost so, save for
a thin coating of light-grey dust.
I had halted at the doorway. Now, however, I turned, and made my way up
the center of the place; passing among the pillars, and glancing to
right and left, as I moved. About halfway up the cellar, I stubbed my
foot against something that gave out a metallic sound. Stooping quickly,
I held the candle, and saw that the object I had kicked, was a large,
metal ring. Bending lower, I cleared the dust from around it, and,
presently, discovered that it was attached to a ponderous trap door,
black with age.
Feeling excited, and wondering to where it could lead, I laid my gun on
the floor, and, sticking the candle in the trigger guard, took the ring
in both hands, and pulled. The trap creaked loudly--the sound echoing,
vaguely, through the huge place--and opened, heavily.
Propping the edge on my knee, I reached for the candle, and held it in
the opening, moving it to right and left; but could see nothing. I was
puzzled and surprised. There were no signs of steps, nor even the
appearance of there ever having been any. Nothing; save an empty
blackness. I might have been looking down into a bottomless, sideless
well. Then, even as I stared, full of perplexity, I seemed to hear, far
down, as though from untold depths, a faint whisper of sound. I bent my
head, quickly, more into the opening, and listened, intently. It may
have been fancy; but I could have sworn to hearing a soft titter, that
grew into a hideous, chuckling, faint and distant. Startled, I leapt
backward, letting the trap fall, with a hollow clang, that filled the
place with echoes. Even then, I seemed to hear that mocking, suggestive
laughter; but this, I knew, must be my imagination. The sound, I had
heard, was far too slight to penetrate through the cumbrous trap.
For a full minute, I stood there, quivering--glancing, nervously,
behind and before; but the great cellar was silent as a grave, and,
gradually, I shook off the frightened sensation. With a calmer mind, I
became again curious to know into what that trap opened; but could not,
then, summon sufficient courage to make a further investigation. One
thing I felt, however, was that the trap ought to be secured. This, I
accomplished by placing upon it several large pieces of 'dressed'
stone, which I had noticed in my tour along the East wall.
Then, after a final scrutiny of the rest of the place, I retraced my
way through the cellars, to the stairs, and so reached the daylight,
with an infinite feeling of relief, that the uncomfortable task was
accomplished.
THE TIME OF WAITING
The sun was now warm, and shining brightly, forming a wondrous contrast
to the dark and dismal cellars; and it was with comparatively light
feelings, that I made my way up to the tower, to survey the gardens.
There, I found everything quiet, and, after a few minutes, went down to
Mary's room.
Here, having knocked, and received a reply, I unlocked the door. My
sister was sitting, quietly, on the bed; as though waiting. She seemed
quite herself again, and made no attempt to move away, as I approached;
yet, I observed that she scanned my face, anxiously, as though in doubt,
and but half assured in her mind that there was nothing to fear from me.
To my questions, as to how she felt, she replied, sanely enough, that
she was hungry, and would like to go down to prepare breakfast, if I did
not mind. For a minute, I meditated whether it would be safe to let her
out. Finally, I told her she might go, on condition that she promised
not to attempt to leave the house, or meddle with any of the outer
doors. At my mention of the doors, a sudden look of fright crossed her
face; but she said nothing, save to give the required promise, and then
left the room, silently.
Crossing the floor, I approached Pepper. He had waked as I entered;
but, beyond a slight yelp of pleasure, and a soft rapping with his tail,
had kept quiet. Now, as I patted him, he made an attempt to stand up,
and succeeded, only to fall back on his side, with a little yowl
I spoke to him, and bade him lie still. I was greatly delighted with
his improvement, and also with the natural kindness of my sister's
heart, in taking such good care of him, in spite of her condition of
mind. After a while, I left him, and went downstairs, to my study.
In a little time, Mary appeared, carrying a tray on which smoked a hot
breakfast. As she entered the room, I saw her gaze fasten on the props
that supported the study door; her lips tightened, and I thought she
paled, slightly; but that was all. Putting the tray down at my elbow,
she was leaving the room, quietly, when I called her back. She came, it
seemed, a little timidly, as though startled; and I noted that her hand
clutched at her apron, nervously.
'Come, Mary,' I said. 'Cheer up! Things look brighter. I've seen none
of the creatures since yesterday morning, early.'
She looked at me, in a curiously puzzled manner; as though not
comprehending. Then, intelligence swept into her eyes, and fear; but she
said nothing, beyond an unintelligible murmur of acquiescence. After
that, I kept silence; it was evident that any reference to the
Swine-things, was more than her shaken nerves could bear.
Breakfast over, I went up to the tower. Here, during the greater part
of the day, I maintained a strict watch over the gardens. Once or twice,
I went down to the basement, to see how my sister was getting along.
Each time, I found her quiet, and curiously submissive. Indeed, on the
last occasion, she even ventured to address me, on her own account, with
regard to some household matter that needed attention. Though this was
done with an almost extraordinary timidity, I hailed it with happiness,
as being the first word, voluntarily spoken, since the critical moment,
when I had caught her unbarring the back door, to go out among those
waiting brutes. I wondered whether she was aware of her attempt, and how
near a thing it had been; but refrained from questioning her, thinking
it best to let well alone.
That night, I slept in a bed; the first time for two nights. In the
morning, I rose early, and took a walk through the house. All was as it
should be, and I went up to the tower, to have a look at the gardens.
Here, again, I found perfect quietness.
At breakfast, when I met Mary, I was greatly pleased to see that she
had sufficiently regained command over herself, to be able to greet me
in a perfectly natural manner. She talked sensibly and quietly; only
keeping carefully from any mention of the past couple of days. In this,
I humored her, to the extent of not attempting to lead the conversation
in that direction.
Earlier in the morning, I had been to see Pepper. He was mending,
rapidly; and bade fair to be on his legs, in earnest, in another day or
two. Before leaving the breakfast table, I made some reference to his
improvement. In the short discussion that followed, I was surprised to
gather, from my sister's remarks, that she was still under the
impression that his wound had been given by the wildcat, of my
invention. It made me feel almost ashamed of myself for deceiving her.
Yet, the lie had been told to prevent her from being frightened. And
then, I had been sure that she must have known the truth, later, when
those brutes had attacked the house.
During the day, I kept on the alert; spending much of my time, as on
the previous day, in the tower; but not a sign could I see of the
Swine-creatures, nor hear any sound. Several times, the thought had come
to me, that the Things had, at last, left us; but, up to this time, I
had refused to entertain the idea, seriously; now, however, I began to
feel that there was reason for hope. It would soon be three days since I
had seen any of the Things; but still, I intended to use the utmost
caution. For all that I could tell, this protracted silence might be a
ruse to tempt me from the house--perhaps right into their arms. The
thought of such a contingency, was, alone, sufficient to make me
circumspect.
So it was, that the fourth, fifth and sixth days went by, quietly,
without my making any attempt to leave the house.
On the sixth day, I had the pleasure of seeing Pepper, once more, upon
his feet; and, though still very weak, he managed to keep me company
during the whole of that day.
THE SEARCHING OF THE GARDENS
How slowly the time went; and never a thing to indicate that any of the
brutes still infested the gardens.
It was on the ninth day that, finally, I decided to run the risk, if
any there were, and sally out. With this purpose in view, I loaded one
of the shotguns, carefully--choosing it, as being more deadly than a
rifle, at close quarters; and then, after a final scrutiny of the
grounds, from the tower, I called Pepper to follow me, and made my way
down to the basement.
At the door, I must confess to hesitating a moment. The thought of what
might be awaiting me among the dark shrubberies, was by no means
calculated to encourage my resolution. It was but a second, though, and
then I had drawn the bolts, and was standing on the path outside
Pepper followed, stopping at the doorstep to sniff, suspiciously; and
carrying his nose up and down the jambs, as though following a scent.
Then, suddenly, he turned, sharply, and started to run here and there,
in semicircles and circles, all around the door; finally returning to
the threshold. Here, he began again to nose about.
Hitherto, I had stood, watching the dog; yet, all the time, with half
my gaze on the wild tangle of gardens, stretching 'round me. Now, I went
toward him, and, bending down, examined the surface of the door, where
he was smelling. I found that the wood was covered with a network of
scratches, crossing and recrossing one another, in inextricable
confusion. In addition to this, I noticed that the doorposts,
themselves, were gnawed in places. Beyond these, I could find nothing;
and so, standing up, I began to make the tour of the house wall.
Pepper, as soon as I walked away, left the door, and ran ahead, still
nosing and sniffing as he went along. At times, he stopped to
investigate. Here, it would be a bullet-hole in the pathway, or,
perhaps, a powder stained wad. Anon, it might be a piece of torn sod, or
a disturbed patch of weedy path; but, save for such trifles, he found
nothing. I observed him, critically, as he went along, and could
discover nothing of uneasiness, in his demeanor, to indicate that he
felt the nearness of any of the creatures. By this, I was assured that
the gardens were empty, at least for the present, of those hateful
Things. Pepper could not be easily deceived, and it was a relief to feel
that he would know, and give me timely warning, if there were
Reaching the place where I had shot that first creature, I stopped, and
made a careful scrutiny; but could see nothing. From there, I went on to
where the great copingstone had fallen. It lay on its side, apparently
just as it had been left when I shot the brute that was moving it. A
couple of feet to the right of the nearer end, was a great dent in the
ground; showing where it had struck. The other end was still within the
indentation--half in, and half out. Going nearer, I looked at the stone,
more closely. What a huge piece of masonry it was! And that creature had
moved it, single-handed, in its attempt to reach what lay below.
I went 'round to the further end of the stone. Here, I found that it
was possible to see under it, for a distance of nearly a couple of feet.
Still, I could see nothing of the stricken creatures, and I felt much
surprised. I had, as I have before said, guessed that the remains had
been removed; yet, I could not conceive that it had been done so
thoroughly as not to leave some certain sign, beneath the stone,
indicative of their fate. I had seen several of the brutes struck down
beneath it, with such force that they must have been literally driven
into the earth; and now, not a vestige of them was to be seen--not even
a bloodstain.
I felt more puzzled, than ever, as I turned the matter over in my mind;
but could think of no plausible explanation; and so, finally, gave it
up, as one of the many things that were unexplainable.
From there, I transferred my attention to the study door. I could see,
now, even more plainly, the effects of the tremendous strain, to which
it had been subjected; and I marveled how, even with the support
afforded by the props, it had withstood the attacks, so well. There were
no marks of blows--indeed, none had been given--but the door had been
literally riven from its hinges, by the application of enormous, silent
force. One thing that I observed affected me profoundly--the head of one
of the props had been driven right through a panel. This was, of itself,
sufficient to show how huge an effort the creatures had made to break
down the door, and how nearly they had succeeded.
Leaving, I continued my tour 'round the house, finding little else of
interest; save at the back, where I came across the piece of piping I
had torn from the wall, lying among the long grass underneath the
broken window.
Then, I returned to the house, and, having re-bolted the back door,
went up to the tower. Here, I spent the afternoon, reading, and
occasionally glancing down into the gardens. I had determined, if the
night passed quietly, to go as far as the Pit, on the morrow. Perhaps, I
should be able to learn, then, something of what had happened. The day
slipped away, and the night came, and went much as the last few
nights had gone.
When I rose the morning had broken, fine and clear; and I determined to
put my project into action. During breakfast, I considered the matter,
carefully; after which, I went to the study for my shotgun. In addition,
I loaded, and slipped into my pocket, a small, but heavy, pistol. I
quite understood that, if there were any danger, it lay in the direction
of the Pit and I intended to be prepared.
Leaving the study, I went down to the back door, followed by Pepper.
Once outside, I took a quick survey of the surrounding gardens, and then
set off toward the Pit. On the way, I kept a sharp outlook, holding my
gun, handily. Pepper was running ahead, I noticed, without any apparent
hesitation. From this, I augured that there was no imminent danger to be
apprehended, and I stepped out more quickly in his wake. He had reached
the top of the Pit, now, and was nosing his way along the edge.
A minute later, I was beside him, looking down into the Pit. For a
moment, I could scarcely believe that it was the same place, so greatly
was it changed. The dark, wooded ravine of a fortnight ago, with a
foliage-hidden stream, running sluggishly, at the bottom, existed no
longer. Instead, my eyes showed me a ragged chasm, partly filled with a
gloomy lake of turbid water. All one side of the ravine was stripped of
underwood, showing the bare rock.
A little to my left, the side of the Pit appeared to have collapsed
altogether, forming a deep V-shaped cleft in the face of the rocky
cliff. This rift ran, from the upper edge of the ravine, nearly down to
the water, and penetrated into the Pit side, to a distance of some forty
feet. Its opening was, at least, six yards across; and, from this, it
seemed to taper into about two. But, what attracted my attention, more
than even the stupendous split itself, was a great hole, some distance
down the cleft, and right in the angle of the V. It was clearly defined,
and not unlike an arched doorway in shape; though, lying as it did in
the shadow, I could not see it very distinctly.
The opposite side of the Pit, still retained its verdure; but so torn
in places, and everywhere covered with dust and rubbish, that it was
hardly distinguishable as such.
My first impression, that there had been a land slip, was, I began to
see, not sufficient, of itself, to account for all the changes I
witnessed. And the water--? I turned, suddenly; for I had become aware
that, somewhere to my right, there was a noise of running water. I could
see nothing; but, now that my attention had been caught, I
distinguished, easily, that it came from somewhere at the East end
Slowly, I made my way in that direction; the sound growing plainer as I
advanced, until in a little, I stood right above it. Even then, I could
not perceive the cause, until I knelt down, and thrust my head over the
cliff. Here, the noise came up to me, plainly; and I saw, below me, a
torrent of clear water, issuing from a small fissure in the Pit side,
and rushing down the rocks, into the lake beneath. A little further
along the cliff, I saw another, and, beyond that again, two smaller
ones. These, then, would help to account for the quantity of water in
the Pit; and, if the fall of rock and earth had blocked the outlet of
the stream at the bottom, there was little doubt but that it was
contributing a very large share.
Yet, I puzzled my head to account for the generally _shaken_ appearance
of the place--these streamlets, and that huge cleft, further up the
ravine! It seemed to me, that more than the landslip was necessary to
account for these. I could imagine an earthquake, or a great
_explosion_, creating some such condition of affairs as existed; but, of
these, there had been neither. Then, I stood up, quickly, remembering
that crash, and the cloud of dust that had followed, directly, rushing
high into the air. But I shook my head, unbelievingly. No! It must have
been the noise of the falling rocks and earth, I had heard; of course,
the dust would fly, naturally. Still, in spite of my reasoning, I had an
uneasy feeling, that this theory did not satisfy my sense of the
probable; and yet, was any other, that I could suggest, likely to be
half so plausible? Pepper had been sitting on the grass, while I
conducted my examination. Now, as I turned up the North side of the
ravine, he rose and followed.
Slowly, and keeping a careful watch in all directions, I made the
circuit of the Pit; but found little else, that I had not already seen.
From the West end, I could see the four waterfalls, uninterruptedly.
They were some considerable distance up from the surface of the
lake--about fifty feet, I calculated.
For a little while longer, I loitered about; keeping my eyes and ears
open, but still, without seeing or hearing anything suspicious. The
whole place was wonderfully quiet; indeed, save for the continuous
murmur of the water, at the top end, no sound, of any description, broke
the silence.
All this while, Pepper had shown no signs of uneasiness. This seemed,
to me, to indicate that, for the time being, at least, there was none of
the Swine-creatures in the vicinity. So far as I could see, his
attention appeared to have been taken, chiefly, with scratching and
sniffing among the grass at the edge of the Pit. At times, he would
leave the edge, and run along toward the house, as though following
invisible tracks; but, in all cases, returning after a few minutes. I
had little doubt but that he was really tracing out the footsteps of the
Swine-things; and the very fact that each one seemed to lead him back to
the Pit, appeared to me, a proof that the brutes had all returned whence
At noon, I went home, for dinner. During the afternoon, I made a
partial search of the gardens, accompanied by Pepper; but, without
coming upon anything to indicate the presence of the creatures.
Once, as we made our way through the shrubberies, Pepper rushed in
among some bushes, with a fierce yelp. At that, I jumped back, in sudden
fright, and threw my gun forward, in readiness; only to laugh,
nervously, as Pepper reappeared, chasing an unfortunate cat. Toward
evening, I gave up the search, and returned to the house. All at once,
as we were passing a great clump of bushes, on our right, Pepper
disappeared, and I could hear him sniffing and growling among them, in a
suspicious manner. With my gun barrel, I parted the intervening
shrubbery, and looked inside. There was nothing to be seen, save that
many of the branches were bent down, and broken; as though some animal
had made a lair there, at no very previous date. It was probably, I
thought, one of the places occupied by some of the Swine-creatures, on
the night of the attack.
Next day, I resumed my search through the gardens; but without result.
By evening, I had been right through them, and now, I knew, beyond the
possibility of doubt, that there were no longer any of the Things
concealed about the place. Indeed, I have often thought since, that I
was correct in my earlier surmise, that they had left soon after
THE SUBTERRANEAN PIT
Another week came and went, during which I spent a great deal of my time
about the Pit mouth. I had come to the conclusion a few days earlier,
that the arched hole, in the angle of the great rift, was the place
through which the Swine-things had made their exit, from some unholy
place in the bowels of the world. How near the probable truth this went,
I was to learn later.
It may be easily understood, that I was tremendously curious, though in
a frightened way, to know to what infernal place that hole led; though,
so far, the idea had not struck me, seriously, of making an
investigation. I was far too much imbued with a sense of horror of the
Swine-creatures, to think of venturing, willingly, where there was any
chance of coming into contact with them.
Gradually, however, as time passed, this feeling grew insensibly less;
so that when, a few days later, the thought occurred to me that it might
be possible to clamber down and have a look into the hole, I was not so
exceedingly averse to it, as might have been imagined. Still, I do not
think, even then, that I really intended to try any such foolhardy
adventure. For all that I could tell, it might be certain death, to
enter that doleful looking opening. And yet, such is the pertinacity of
human curiosity, that, at last, my chief desire was but to discover what
lay beyond that gloomy entrance.
Slowly, as the days slid by, my fear of the Swine-things became an
emotion of the past--more an unpleasant, incredible memory, than
Thus, a day came, when, throwing thoughts and fancies adrift, I
procured a rope from the house, and, having made it fast to a stout
tree, at the top of the rift, and some little distance back from the Pit
edge, let the other end down into the cleft, until it dangled right
across the mouth of the dark hole.
Then, cautiously, and with many misgivings as to whether it was not a
mad act that I was attempting, I climbed slowly down, using the rope as
a support, until I reached the hole. Here, still holding on to the rope,
I stood, and peered in. All was perfectly dark, and not a sound came to
me. Yet, a moment later, it seemed that I could hear something. I held
my breath, and listened; but all was silent as the grave, and I breathed
freely once more. At the same instant, I heard the sound again. It was
like a noise of labored breathing--deep and sharp-drawn. For a short
second, I stood, petrified; not able to move. But now the sounds had
ceased again, and I could hear nothing.
As I stood there, anxiously, my foot dislodged a pebble, which fell
inward, into the dark, with a hollow chink. At once, the noise was taken
up and repeated a score of times; each succeeding echo being fainter,
and seeming to travel away from me, as though into remote distance.
Then, as the silence fell again, I heard that stealthy breathing. For
each respiration I made, I could hear an answering breath. The sounds
appeared to be coming nearer; and then, I heard several others; but
fainter and more distant. Why I did not grip the rope, and spring up out
of danger, I cannot say. It was as though I had been paralyzed. I broke
out into a profuse sweat, and tried to moisten my lips with my tongue.
My throat had gone suddenly dry, and I coughed, huskily. It came back to
me, in a dozen, horrible, throaty tones, mockingly. I peered,
helplessly, into the gloom; but still nothing showed. I had a strange,
choky sensation, and again I coughed, dryly. Again the echo took it up,
rising and falling, grotesquely, and dying slowly into a
muffled silence.
Then, suddenly, a thought came to me, and I held my breath. The other
breathing stopped. I breathed again, and, once more, it re-commenced.
But now, I no longer feared. I knew that the strange sounds were not
made by any lurking Swine-creature; but were simply the echo of my own
respirations.
Yet, I had received such a fright, that I was glad to scramble up the
rift, and haul up the rope. I was far too shaken and nervous to think of
entering that dark hole then, and so returned to the house. I felt more
myself next morning; but even then, I could not summon up sufficient
courage to explore the place.
All this time, the water in the Pit had been creeping slowly up, and
now stood but a little below the opening. At the rate at which it was
rising, it would be level with the floor in less than another week; and
I realized that, unless I carried out my investigations soon, I should
probably never do so at all; as the water would rise and rise, until the
opening, itself, was submerged.
It may have been that this thought stirred me to act; but, whatever it
was, a couple of days later, saw me standing at the top of the cleft,
fully equipped for the task.
This time, I was resolved to conquer my shirking, and go right through
with the matter. With this intention, I had brought, in addition to the
rope, a bundle of candles, meaning to use them as a torch; also my
double-barreled shotgun. In my belt, I had a heavy horse-pistol, loaded
with buckshot.
As before, I fastened the rope to the tree. Then, having tied my gun
across my shoulders, with a piece of stout cord, I lowered myself over
the edge of the Pit. At this movement, Pepper, who had been eyeing my
actions, watchfully, rose to his feet, and ran to me, with a half bark,
half wail, it seemed to me, of warning. But I was resolved on my
enterprise, and bade him lie down. I would much have liked to take him
with me; but this was next to impossible, in the existing circumstances.
As my face dropped level with the Pit edge, he licked me, right across
the mouth; and then, seizing my sleeve between his teeth, began to pull
back, strongly. It was very evident that he did not want me to go. Yet,
having made up my mind, I had no intention of giving up the attempt;
and, with a sharp word to Pepper, to release me, I continued my descent,
leaving the poor old fellow at the top, barking and crying like a
forsaken pup.
Carefully, I lowered myself from projection to projection. I knew that
a slip might mean a wetting.
Reaching the entrance, I let go the rope, and untied the gun from my
shoulders. Then, with a last look at the sky--which I noticed was
clouding over, rapidly--I went forward a couple of paces, so as to be
shielded from the wind, and lit one of the candles. Holding it above my
head, and grasping my gun, firmly, I began to move on, slowly, throwing
my glances in all directions.
For the first minute, I could hear the melancholy sound of Pepper's
howling, coming down to me. Gradually, as I penetrated further into the
darkness, it grew fainter; until, in a little while, I could hear
nothing. The path tended downward somewhat, and to the left. Thence it
kept on, still running to the left, until I found that it was leading me
right in the direction of the house.
Very cautiously, I moved onward, stopping, every few steps, to listen.
I had gone, perhaps, a hundred yards, when, suddenly, it seemed to me
that I caught a faint sound, somewhere along the passage behind. With my
heart thudding heavily, I listened. The noise grew plainer, and appeared
to be approaching, rapidly. I could hear it distinctly, now. It was the
soft padding of running feet. In the first moments of fright, I stood,
irresolute; not knowing whether to go forward or backward. Then, with a
sudden realization of the best thing to do, I backed up to the rocky
wall on my right, and, holding the candle above my head, waited--gun in
hand--cursing my foolhardy curiosity, for bringing me into such
I had not long to wait, but a few seconds, before two eyes reflected
back from the gloom, the rays of my candle. I raised my gun, using my
right hand only, and aimed quickly. Even as I did so, something leapt
out of the darkness, with a blustering bark of joy that woke the echoes,
like thunder. It was Pepper. How he had contrived to scramble down the
cleft, I could not conceive. As I brushed my hand, nervously, over his
coat, I noticed that he was dripping; and concluded that he must have
tried to follow me, and fallen into the water; from which he would not
find it very difficult to climb.
Having waited a minute, or so, to steady myself, I proceeded along the
way, Pepper following, quietly. I was curiously glad to have the old
fellow with me. He was company, and, somehow, with him at my heels, I
was less afraid. Also, I knew how quickly his keen ears would detect the
presence of any unwelcome creature, should there be such, amid the
darkness that wrapped us.
For some minutes we went slowly along; the path still leading straight
toward the house. Soon, I concluded, we should be standing right beneath
it, did the path but carry far enough. I led the way, cautiously, for
another fifty yards, or so. Then, I stopped, and held the light high;
and reason enough I had to be thankful that I did so; for there, not
three paces forward, the path vanished, and, in place, showed a hollow
blackness, that sent sudden fear through me.
Very cautiously, I crept forward, and peered down; but could see
nothing. Then, I crossed to the left of the passage, to see whether
there might be any continuation of the path. Here, right against the
wall, I found that a narrow track, some three feet wide, led onward.
Carefully, I stepped on to it; but had not gone far, before I regretted
venturing thereon. For, after a few paces, the already narrow way,
resolved itself into a mere ledge, with, on the one side the solid,
unyielding rock, towering up, in a great wall, to the unseen roof, and,
on the other, that yawning chasm. I could not help reflecting how
helpless I was, should I be attacked there, with no room to turn, and
where even the recoil of my weapon might be sufficient to drive me
headlong into the depths below.
To my great relief, a little further on, the track suddenly broadened
out again to its original breadth. Gradually, as I went onward, I
noticed that the path trended steadily to the right, and so, after some
minutes, I discovered that I was not going forward; but simply circling
the huge abyss. I had, evidently, come to the end of the great passage.
Five minutes later, I stood on the spot from which I had started;
having been completely 'round, what I guessed now to be a vast pit, the
mouth of which must be at least a hundred yards across.
For some little time, I stood there, lost in perplexing thought. 'What
does it all mean?' was the cry that had begun to reiterate through
A sudden idea struck me, and I searched 'round for a piece of stone.
Presently, I found a bit of rock, about the size of a small loaf.
Sticking the candle upright in a crevice of the floor, I went back from
the edge, somewhat, and, taking a short run, launched the stone forward
into the chasm--my idea being to throw it far enough to keep it clear of
the sides. Then, I stooped forward, and listened; but, though I kept
perfectly quiet, for at least a full minute, no sound came back to me
from out of the dark.
I knew, then, that the depth of the hole must be immense; for the
stone, had it struck anything, was large enough to have set the echoes
of that weird place, whispering for an indefinite period. Even as it
was, the cavern had given back the sounds of my footfalls,
multitudinously. The place was awesome, and I would willingly have
retraced my steps, and left the mysteries of its solitudes unsolved;
only, to do so, meant admitting defeat.
Then, a thought came, to try to get a view of the abyss. It occurred to
me that, if I placed my candles 'round the edge of the hole, I should be
able to get, at least, some dim sight of the place.
I found, on counting, that I had brought fifteen candles, in the
bundle--my first intention having been, as I have already said, to make
a torch of the lot. These, I proceeded to place 'round the Pit mouth,
with an interval of about twenty yards between each.
Having completed the circle, I stood in the passage, and endeavored to
get an idea of how the place looked. But I discovered, immediately, that
they were totally insufficient for my purpose. They did little more than
make the gloom visible. One thing they did, however, and that was, they
confirmed my opinion of the size of the opening; and, although they
showed me nothing that I wanted to see; yet the contrast they afforded
to the heavy darkness, pleased me, curiously. It was as though fifteen
tiny stars shone through the subterranean night.
Then, even as I stood, Pepper gave a sudden howl, that was taken up by
the echoes, and repeated with ghastly variations, dying away, slowly.
With a quick movement, I held aloft the one candle that I had kept, and
glanced down at the dog; at the same moment, I seemed to hear a noise,
like a diabolical chuckle, rise up from the hitherto, silent depths of
the Pit. I started; then, I recollected that it was, probably, the echo
of Pepper's howl.
Pepper had moved away from me, up the passage, a few steps; he was
nosing along the rocky floor; and I thought I heard him lapping. I went
toward him, holding the candle low. As I moved, I heard my boot go sop,
sop; and the light was reflected from something that glistened, and
crept past my feet, swiftly toward the Pit. I bent lower, and looked;
then gave vent to an expression of surprise. From somewhere, higher up
the path, a stream of water was running quickly in the direction of the
great opening, and growing in size every second.
Again, Pepper gave vent to that deep-drawn howl, and, running at me,
seized my coat, and attempted to drag me up the path toward the
entrance. With a nervous gesture, I shook him off, and crossed quickly
over to the left-hand wall. If anything were coming, I was going to have
the wall at my back.
Then, as I stared anxiously up the pathway, my candle caught a gleam,
far up the passage. At the same moment, I became conscious of a
murmurous roar, that grew louder, and filled the whole cavern with
deafening sound. From the Pit, came a deep, hollow echo, like the sob of
a giant. Then, I had sprung to one side, on to the narrow ledge that ran
'round the abyss, and, turning, saw a great wall of foam sweep past me,
and leap tumultuously into the waiting chasm. A cloud of spray burst
over me, extinguishing my candle, and wetting me to the skin. I still
held my gun. The three nearest candles went out; but the further ones
gave only a short flicker. After the first rush, the flow of water eased
down to a steady stream, maybe a foot in depth; though I could not see
this, until I had procured one of the lighted candles, and, with it,
started to reconnoiter. Pepper had, fortunately, followed me as I leapt
for the ledge, and now, very much subdued, kept close behind.
A short examination showed me that the water reached right across the
passage, and was running at a tremendous rate. Already, even as I stood
there, it had deepened. I could make only a guess at what had happened.
Evidently, the water in the ravine had broken into the passage, by some
means. If that were the case, it would go on increasing in volume, until
I should find it impossible to leave the place. The thought was
frightening. It was evident that I must make my exit as hurriedly
as possible.
Taking my gun by the stock, I sounded the water. It was a little under
knee-deep. The noise it made, plunging down into the Pit, was deafening.
Then, with a call to Pepper, I stepped out into the flood, using the gun
as a staff. Instantly, the water boiled up over my knees, and nearly to
the tops of my thighs, with the speed at which it was racing. For one
short moment, I nearly lost my footing; but the thought of what lay
behind, stimulated me to a fierce endeavor, and, step-by-step, I
made headway.
Of Pepper, I knew nothing at first. I had all I could do to keep on my
legs; and was overjoyed, when he appeared beside me. He was wading
manfully along. He is a big dog, with longish thin legs, and I suppose
the water had less grasp on them, than upon mine. Anyway, he managed a
great deal better than I did; going ahead of me, like a guide, and
wittingly--or otherwise--helping, somewhat, to break the force of the
water. On we went, step by step, struggling and gasping, until somewhere
about a hundred yards had been safely traversed. Then, whether it was
because I was taking less care, or that there was a slippery place on
the rocky floor, I cannot say; but, suddenly, I slipped, and fell on my
face. Instantly, the water leapt over me in a cataract, hurling me down,
toward that bottomless hole, at a frightful speed. Frantically I
struggled; but it was impossible to get a footing. I was helpless,
gasping and drowning. All at once, something gripped my coat, and
brought me to a standstill. It was Pepper. Missing me, he must have
raced back, through the dark turmoil, to find me, and then caught, and
held me, until I was able to get to my feet.
I have a dim recollection of having seen, momentarily, the gleams of
several lights; but, of this, I have never been quite sure. If my
impressions are correct, I must have been washed down to the very brink
of that awful chasm, before Pepper managed to bring me to a standstill.
And the lights, of course, could only have been the distant flames of
the candles, I had left burning. But, as I have said, I am not by any
means sure. My eyes were full of water, and I had been badly shaken.
And there was I, without my helpful gun, without light, and sadly
confused, with the water deepening; depending solely upon my old friend
Pepper, to help me out of that hellish place.
I was facing the torrent. Naturally, it was the only way in which I
could have sustained my position a moment; for even old Pepper could not
have held me long against that terrific strain, without assistance,
however blind, from me.
Perhaps a minute passed, during which it was touch and go with me;
then, gradually I re-commenced my tortuous way up the passage. And so
began the grimmest fight with death, from which ever I hope to emerge
victorious. Slowly, furiously, almost hopelessly, I strove; and that
faithful Pepper led me, dragged me, upward and onward, until, at last,
ahead I saw a gleam of blessed light. It was the entrance. Only a few
yards further, and I reached the opening, with the water surging and
boiling hungrily around my loins.
And now I understood the cause of the catastrophe. It was raining
heavily, literally in torrents. The surface of the lake was level with
the bottom of the opening--nay! more than level, it was above it.
Evidently, the rain had swollen the lake, and caused this premature
rise; for, at the rate the ravine had been filling, it would not have
reached the entrance for a couple more days.
Luckily, the rope by which I had descended, was streaming into the
opening, upon the inrushing waters. Seizing the end, I knotted it
securely 'round Pepper's body, then, summoning up the last remnant of my
strength, I commenced to swarm up the side of the cliff. I reached the
Pit edge, in the last stage of exhaustion. Yet, I had to make one more
effort, and haul Pepper into safety.
Slowly and wearily, I hauled on the rope. Once or twice, it seemed that
I should have to give up; for Pepper is a weighty dog, and I was utterly
done. Yet, to let go, would have meant certain death to the old fellow,
and the thought spurred me to greater exertions. I have but a very hazy
remembrance of the end. I recall pulling, through moments that lagged
strangely. I have also some recollection of seeing Pepper's muzzle,
appearing over the Pit edge, after what seemed an indefinite period of
time. Then, all grew suddenly dark.
THE TRAP IN THE GREAT CELLAR
I suppose I must have swooned; for, the next thing I remember, I opened
my eyes, and all was dusk. I was lying on my back, with one leg doubled
under the other, and Pepper was licking my ears. I felt horribly stiff,
and my leg was numb, from the knee, downward. For a few minutes, I lay
thus, in a dazed condition; then, slowly, I struggled to a sitting
position, and looked about me.
It had stopped raining, but the trees still dripped, dismally. From the
Pit, came a continuous murmur of running water. I felt cold and shivery.
My clothes were sodden, and I ached all over. Very slowly, the life came
back into my numbed leg, and, after a little, I essayed to stand up.
This, I managed, at the second attempt; but I was very tottery, and
peculiarly weak. It seemed to me, that I was going to be ill, and I made
shift to stumble my way toward the house. My steps were erratic, and my
head confused. At each step that I took, sharp pains shot through
I had gone, perhaps, some thirty paces, when a cry from Pepper, drew
my attention, and I turned, stiffly, toward him. The old dog was trying
to follow me; but could come no further, owing to the rope, with which I
had hauled him up, being still tied 'round his body, the other end not
having been unfastened from the tree. For a moment, I fumbled with the
knots, weakly; but they were wet and hard, and I could do nothing. Then,
I remembered my knife, and, in a minute, the rope was cut.
How I reached the house, I scarcely know, and, of the days that
followed, I remember still less. Of one thing, I am certain, that, had
it not been for my sister's untiring love and nursing, I had not been
writing at this moment.
When I recovered my senses, it was to find that I had been in bed for
nearly two weeks. Yet another week passed, before I was strong enough to
totter out into the gardens. Even then, I was not able to walk so far as
the Pit. I would have liked to ask my sister, how high the water had
risen; but felt it was wiser not to mention the subject to her. Indeed,
since then, I have made a rule never to speak to her about the strange
things, that happen in this great, old house.
It was not until a couple of days later, that I managed to get across
to the Pit. There, I found that, in my few weeks' absence, there had
been wrought a wondrous change. Instead of the three-parts filled
ravine, I looked out upon a great lake, whose placid surface, reflected
the light, coldly. The water had risen to within half a dozen feet of
the Pit edge. Only in one part was the lake disturbed, and that was
above the place where, far down under the silent waters, yawned the
entrance to the vast, underground Pit. Here, there was a continuous
bubbling; and, occasionally, a curious sort of sobbing gurgle would find
its way up from the depth. Beyond these, there was nothing to tell of
the things that were hidden beneath. As I stood there, it came to me
how wonderfully things had worked out. The entrance to the place whence
the Swine-creatures had come, was sealed up, by a power that made me
feel there was nothing more to fear from them. And yet, with the
feeling, there was a sensation that, now, I should never learn anything
further, of the place from which those dreadful Things had come. It was
completely shut off and concealed from human curiosity forever.
Strange--in the knowledge of that underground hell-hole--how apposite
has been the naming of the Pit. One wonders how it originated, and when.
Naturally, one concludes that the shape and depth of the ravine would
suggest the name 'Pit.' Yet, is it not possible that it has, all along,
held a deeper significance, a hint--could one but have guessed--of the
greater, more stupendous Pit that lies far down in the earth, beneath
this old house? Under this house! Even now, the idea is strange and
terrible to me. For I have proved, beyond doubt, that the Pit yawns
right below the house, which is evidently supported, somewhere above the
center of it, upon a tremendous, arched roof, of solid rock.
It happened in this wise, that, having occasion to go down to the
cellars, the thought occurred to me to pay a visit to the great vault,
where the trap is situated; and see whether everything was as I had
Reaching the place, I walked slowly up the center, until I came to the
trap. There it was, with the stones piled upon it, just as I had seen it
last. I had a lantern with me, and the idea came to me, that now would
be a good time to investigate whatever lay under the great, oak slab.
Placing the lantern on the floor, I tumbled the stones off the trap,
and, grasping the ring, pulled the door open. As I did so, the cellar
became filled with the sound of a murmurous thunder, that rose from far
below. At the same time, a damp wind blew up into my face, bringing
with it a load of fine spray. Therewith, I dropped the trap, hurriedly,
with a half frightened feeling of wonder.
For a moment, I stood puzzled. I was not particularly afraid. The
haunting fear of the Swine-things had left me, long ago; but I was
certainly nervous and astonished. Then, a sudden thought possessed me,
and I raised the ponderous door, with a feeling of excitement. Leaving
it standing upon its end, I seized the lantern, and, kneeling down,
thrust it into the opening. As I did so, the moist wind and spray drove
in my eyes, making me unable to see, for a few moments. Even when my
eyes were clear, I could distinguish nothing below me, save darkness,
and whirling spray.
Seeing that it was useless to expect to make out anything, with the
light so high, I felt in my pockets for a piece of twine, with which to
lower it further into the opening. Even as I fumbled, the lantern
slipped from my fingers, and hurtled down into the darkness. For a brief
instant, I watched its fall, and saw the light shine on a tumult of
white foam, some eighty or a hundred feet below me. Then it was gone. My
sudden surmise was correct, and now, I knew the cause of the wet and
noise. The great cellar was connected with the Pit, by means of the
trap, which opened right above it; and the moisture, was the spray,
rising from the water, falling into the depths.
In an instant, I had an explanation of certain things, that had
hitherto puzzled me. Now, I could understand why the noises--on the
first night of the invasion--had seemed to rise directly from under my
feet. And the chuckle that had sounded when first I opened the trap!
Evidently, some of the Swine-things must have been right beneath me.
Another thought struck me. Were the creatures all drowned? Would they
drown? I remembered how unable I had been to find any traces to show
that my shooting had been really fatal. Had they life, as we understand
life, or were they ghouls? These thoughts flashed through my brain, as I
stood in the dark, searching my pockets for matches. I had the box in my
hand now, and, striking a light, I stepped to the trap door, and closed
it. Then, I piled the stones back upon it; after which, I made my way
out from the cellars.
And so, I suppose the water goes on, thundering down into that
bottomless hell-pit. Sometimes, I have an inexplicable desire to go down
to the great cellar, open the trap, and gaze into the impenetrable,
spray-damp darkness. At times, the desire becomes almost overpowering,
in its intensity. It is not mere curiosity, that prompts me; but more as
though some unexplained influence were at work. Still, I never go; and
intend to fight down the strange longing, and crush it; even as I would
the unholy thought of self-destruction.
This idea of some intangible force being exerted, may seem reasonless.
Yet, my instinct warns me, that it is not so. In these things, reason
seems to me less to be trusted than instinct.
One thought there is, in closing, that impresses itself upon me, with
ever growing insistence. It is, that I live in a very strange house; a
very awful house. And I have begun to wonder whether I am doing wisely
in staying here. Yet, if I left, where could I go, and still obtain the
solitude, and the sense of her presence,[1] that alone make my old
life bearable?
THE SEA OF SLEEP
For a considerable period after the last incident which I have narrated
in my diary, I had serious thoughts of leaving this house, and might
have done so; but for the great and wonderful thing, of which I am
about to write.
How well I was advised, in my heart, when I stayed on here--spite of
those visions and sights of unknown and unexplainable things; for, had I
not stayed, then I had not seen again the face of her I loved. Yes,
though few know it, none now save my sister Mary, I have loved and,
ah! me--lost.
I would write down the story of those sweet, old days; but it would be
like the tearing of old wounds; yet, after that which has happened, what
need have I to care? For she has come to me out of the unknown.
Strangely, she warned me; warned me passionately against this house;
begged me to leave it; but admitted, when I questioned her, that she
could not have come to me, had I been elsewhere. Yet, in spite of this,
still she warned me, earnestly; telling me that it was a place, long
ago given over to evil, and under the power of grim laws, of which none
here have knowledge. And I--I just asked her, again, whether she would
come to me elsewhere, and she could only stand, silent.
It was thus, that I came to the place of the Sea of Sleep--so she
termed it, in her dear speech with me. I had stayed up, in my study,
reading; and must have dozed over the book. Suddenly, I awoke and sat
upright, with a start. For a moment, I looked 'round, with a puzzled
sense of something unusual. There was a misty look about the room,
giving a curious softness to each table and chair and furnishing.
Gradually, the mistiness increased; growing, as it were, out of
nothing. Then, slowly, a soft, white light began to glow in the room.
The flames of the candles shone through it, palely. I looked from side
to side, and found that I could still see each piece of furniture; but
in a strangely unreal way, more as though the ghost of each table and
chair had taken the place of the solid article.
Gradually, as I looked, I saw them fade and fade; until, slowly, they
resolved into nothingness. Now, I looked again at the candles. They
shone wanly, and, even as I watched, grew more unreal, and so vanished.
The room was filled, now, with a soft, yet luminous, white twilight,
like a gentle mist of light. Beyond this, I could see nothing. Even the
walls had vanished.
Presently, I became conscious that a faint, continuous sound, pulsed
through the silence that wrapped me. I listened intently. It grew more
distinct, until it appeared to me that I harked to the breathings of
some great sea. I cannot tell how long a space passed thus; but, after a
while, it seemed that I could see through the mistiness; and, slowly, I
became aware that I was standing upon the shore of an immense and silent
sea. This shore was smooth and long, vanishing to right and left of me,
in extreme distances. In front, swam a still immensity of sleeping
ocean. At times, it seemed to me that I caught a faint glimmer of light,
under its surface; but of this, I could not be sure. Behind me, rose up,
to an extraordinary height, gaunt, black cliffs.
Overhead, the sky was of a uniform cold grey color--the whole place
being lit by a stupendous globe of pale fire, that swam a little above
the far horizon, and shed a foamlike light above the quiet waters.
Beyond the gentle murmur of the sea, an intense stillness prevailed.
For a long while, I stayed there, looking out across its strangeness.
Then, as I stared, it seemed that a bubble of white foam floated up out
of the depths, and then, even now I know not how it was, I was looking
upon, nay, looking _into_ the face of Her--aye! into her face--into her
soul; and she looked back at me, with such a commingling of joy and
sadness, that I ran toward her, blindly; crying strangely to her, in a
very agony of remembrance, of terror, and of hope, to come to me. Yet,
spite of my crying, she stayed out there upon the sea, and only shook
her head, sorrowfully; but, in her eyes was the old earth-light of
tenderness, that I had come to know, before all things, ere we
were parted.
"At her perverseness, I grew desperate, and essayed to wade out to her;
yet, though I would, I could not. Something, some invisible barrier,
held me back, and I was fain to stay where I was, and cry out to her in
the fullness of my soul, 'O, my Darling, my Darling--' but could say no
more, for very intensity. And, at that, she came over, swiftly, and
touched me, and it was as though heaven had opened. Yet, when I reached
out my hands to her, she put me from her with tenderly stern hands, and
I was abashed--"
THE FRAGMENTS[2]
(_The legible portions of the mutilated leaves_.)
... through tears ... noise of eternity in my ears, we parted ... She
whom I love. O, my God ...!
I was a great time dazed, and then I was alone in the blackness of the
night. I knew that I journeyed back, once more, to the known universe.
Presently, I emerged from that enormous darkness. I had come among the
stars ... vast time ... the sun, far and remote.
I entered into the gulf that separates our system from the outer suns.
As I sped across the dividing dark, I watched, steadily, the
ever-growing brightness and size of our sun. Once, I glanced back to the
stars, and saw them shift, as it were, in my wake, against the mighty
background of night, so vast was the speed of my passing spirit.
I drew nigher to our system, and now I could see the shine of Jupiter.
Later, I distinguished the cold, blue gleam of the earthlight.... I had
a moment of bewilderment. All about the sun there seemed to be bright,
objects, moving in rapid orbits. Inward, nigh to the savage glory of the
sun, there circled two darting points of light, and, further off, there
flew a blue, shining speck, that I knew to be the earth. It circled the
sun in a space that seemed to be no more than an earth-minute.
... nearer with great speed. I saw the radiances of Jupiter and
Saturn, spinning, with incredible swiftness, in huge orbits. And ever I
drew more nigh, and looked out upon this strange sight--the visible
circling of the planets about the mother sun. It was as though time had
been annihilated for me; so that a year was no more to my unfleshed
spirit, than is a moment to an earth-bound soul.
The speed of the planets, appeared to increase; and, presently, I was
watching the sun, all ringed about with hair-like circles of different
colored fire--the paths of the planets, hurtling at mighty speed, about
the central flame....
"... the sun grew vast, as though it leapt to meet me.... And now I was
within the circling of the outer planets, and flitting swiftly, toward
the place where the earth, glimmering through the blue splendor of its
orbit, as though a fiery mist, circled the sun at a monstrous
speed...." [3]
THE NOISE IN THE NIGHT
And now, I come to the strangest of all the strange happenings that
have befallen me in this house of mysteries. It occurred quite
lately--within the month; and I have little doubt but that what I saw
was in reality the end of all things. However, to my story.
I do not know how it is; but, up to the present, I have never been able
to write these things down, directly they happened. It is as though I
have to wait a time, recovering my just balance, and digesting--as it
were--the things I have heard or seen. No doubt, this is as it should
be; for, by waiting, I see the incidents more truly, and write of them
in a calmer and more judicial frame of mind. This by the way.
It is now the end of November. My story relates to what happened in the
first week of the month.
It was night, about eleven o'clock. Pepper and I kept one another
company in the study--that great, old room of mine, where I read and
work. I was reading, curiously enough, the Bible. I have begun, in these
later days, to take a growing interest in that great and ancient book.
Suddenly, a distinct tremor shook the house, and there came a faint and
distant, whirring buzz, that grew rapidly into a far, muffled screaming.
It reminded me, in a queer, gigantic way, of the noise that a clock
makes, when the catch is released, and it is allowed to run down. The
sound appeared to come from some remote height--somewhere up in the
night. There was no repetition of the shock. I looked across at Pepper.
He was sleeping peacefully.
Gradually, the whirring noise decreased, and there came a long silence.
All at once, a glow lit up the end window, which protrudes far out from
the side of the house, so that, from it, one may look both East and
West. I felt puzzled, and, after a moment's hesitation, walked across
the room, and pulled aside the blind. As I did so, I saw the Sun rise,
from behind the horizon. It rose with a steady, perceptible movement. I
could see it travel upward. In a minute, it seemed, it had reached the
tops of the trees, through which I had watched it. Up, up--It was broad
daylight now. Behind me, I was conscious of a sharp, mosquito-like
buzzing. I glanced 'round, and knew that it came from the clock. Even as
I looked, it marked off an hour. The minute hand was moving 'round the
dial, faster than an ordinary second-hand. The hour hand moved quickly
from space to space. I had a numb sense of astonishment. A moment later,
so it seemed, the two candles went out, almost together. I turned
swiftly back to the window; for I had seen the shadow of the
window-frames, traveling along the floor toward me, as though a great
lamp had been carried up past the window.
I saw now, that the sun had risen high into the heavens, and was still
visibly moving. It passed above the house, with an extraordinary sailing
kind of motion. As the window came into shadow, I saw another
extraordinary thing. The fine-weather clouds were not passing, easily,
across the sky--they were scampering, as though a hundred-mile-an-hour
wind blew. As they passed, they changed their shapes a thousand times a
minute, as though writhing with a strange life; and so were gone. And,
presently, others came, and whisked away likewise.
To the West, I saw the sun, drop with an incredible, smooth, swift
motion. Eastward, the shadows of every seen thing crept toward the
coming greyness. And the movement of the shadows was visible to me--a
stealthy, writhing creep of the shadows of the wind-stirred trees. It
was a strange sight.
Quickly, the room began to darken. The sun slid down to the horizon,
and seemed, as it were, to disappear from my sight, almost with a jerk.
Through the greyness of the swift evening, I saw the silver crescent of
the moon, falling out of the Southern sky, toward the West. The evening
seemed to merge into an almost instant night. Above me, the many
constellations passed in a strange, 'noiseless' circling, Westward. The
moon fell through that last thousand fathoms of the night-gulf, and
there was only the starlight....
About this time, the buzzing in the corner ceased; telling me that the
clock had run down. A few minutes passed, and I saw the Eastward sky
lighten. A grey, sullen morning spread through all the darkness, and hid
the march of the stars. Overhead, there moved, with a heavy, everlasting
rolling, a vast, seamless sky of grey clouds--a cloud-sky that would
have seemed motionless, through all the length of an ordinary earth-day.
The sun was hidden from me; but, from moment to moment, the world would
brighten and darken, brighten and darken, beneath waves of subtle light
and shadow....
The light shifted ever Westward, and the night fell upon the earth. A
vast rain seemed to come with it, and a wind of a most extraordinary
loudness--as though the howling of a nightlong gale, were packed into
the space of no more than a minute.
This noise passed, almost immediately, and the clouds broke; so that,
once more, I could see the sky. The stars were flying Westward, with
astounding speed. It came to me now, for the first time, that, though
the noise of the wind had passed, yet a constant 'blurred' sound was in
my ears. Now that I noticed it, I was aware that it had been with me all
the time. It was the world-noise.
And then, even as I grasped at so much comprehension, there came the
Eastward light. No more than a few heartbeats, and the sun rose,
swiftly. Through the trees, I saw it, and then it was above the trees.
Up--up, it soared and all the world was light. It passed, with a swift,
steady swing to its highest altitude, and fell thence, Westward. I saw
the day roll visibly over my head. A few light clouds flittered
Northward, and vanished. The sun went down with one swift, clear plunge,
and there was about me, for a few seconds, the darker growing grey of
the gloaming.
Southward and Westward, the moon was sinking rapidly. The night had
come, already. A minute it seemed, and the moon fell those remaining
fathoms of dark sky. Another minute, or so, and the Eastward sky glowed
with the coming dawn. The sun leapt upon me with a frightening
abruptness, and soared ever more swiftly toward the zenith. Then,
suddenly, a fresh thing came to my sight. A black thundercloud rushed up
out of the South, and seemed to leap all the arc of the sky, in a single
instant. As it came, I saw that its advancing edge flapped, like a
monstrous black cloth in the heaven, twirling and undulating rapidly,
with a horrid suggestiveness. In an instant, all the air was full of
rain, and a hundred lightning flashes seemed to flood downward, as it
were in one great shower. In the same second of time, the world-noise
was drowned in the roar of the wind, and then my ears ached, under the
stunning impact of the thunder.
And, in the midst of this storm, the night came; and then, within the
space of another minute, the storm had passed, and there was only the
constant 'blur' of the world-noise on my hearing. Overhead, the stars
were sliding quickly Westward; and something, mayhaps the particular
speed to which they had attained, brought home to me, for the first
time, a keen realization of the knowledge that it was the world that
revolved. I seemed to see, suddenly, the world--a vast, dark
mass--revolving visibly against the stars.
The dawn and the sun seemed to come together, so greatly had the speed
of the world-revolution increased. The sun drove up, in one long, steady
curve; passed its highest point, and swept down into the Western sky,
and disappeared. I was scarcely conscious of evening, so brief was it.
Then I was watching the flying constellations, and the Westward
hastening moon. In but a space of seconds, so it seemed, it was sliding
swiftly downward through the night-blue, and then was gone. And, almost
directly, came the morning.
And now there seemed to come a strange acceleration. The sun made one
clean, clear sweep through the sky, and disappeared behind the Westward
horizon, and the night came and went with a like haste.
As the succeeding day, opened and closed upon the world, I was aware of
a sweat of snow, suddenly upon the earth. The night came, and, almost
immediately, the day. In the brief leap of the sun, I saw that the snow
had vanished; and then, once more, it was night.
Thus matters were; and, even after the many incredible things that I
have seen, I experienced all the time a most profound awe. To see the
sun rise and set, within a space of time to be measured by seconds; to
watch (after a little) the moon leap--a pale, and ever growing orb--up
into the night sky, and glide, with a strange swiftness, through the
vast arc of blue; and, presently, to see the sun follow, springing out
of the Eastern sky, as though in chase; and then again the night, with
the swift and ghostly passing of starry constellations, was all too much
to view believingly. Yet, so it was--the day slipping from dawn to dusk,
and the night sliding swiftly into day, ever rapidly and more rapidly.
The last three passages of the sun had shown me a snow-covered earth,
which, at night, had seemed, for a few seconds, incredibly weird under
the fast-shifting light of the soaring and falling moon. Now, however,
for a little space, the sky was hidden, by a sea of swaying,
leaden-white clouds, which lightened and blackened, alternately, with
the passage of day and night.
The clouds rippled and vanished, and there was once more before me, the
vision of the swiftly leaping sun, and nights that came and went
like shadows.
Faster and faster, spun the world. And now each day and night was
completed within the space of but a few seconds; and still the speed
It was a little later, that I noticed that the sun had begun to have
the suspicion of a trail of fire behind it. This was due, evidently, to
the speed at which it, apparently, traversed the heavens. And, as the
days sped, each one quicker than the last, the sun began to assume the
appearance of a vast, flaming comet[4] flaring across the sky at short,
periodic intervals. At night, the moon presented, with much greater
truth, a comet-like aspect; a pale, and singularly clear, fast traveling
shape of fire, trailing streaks of cold flame. The stars showed now,
merely as fine hairs of fire against the dark.
Once, I turned from the window, and glanced at Pepper. In the flash of
a day, I saw that he slept, quietly, and I moved once more to
my watching.
The sun was now bursting up from the Eastern horizon, like a stupendous
rocket, seeming to occupy no more than a second or two in hurling from
East to West. I could no longer perceive the passage of clouds across
the sky, which seemed to have darkened somewhat. The brief nights,
appeared to have lost the proper darkness of night; so that the hair-like
fire of the flying stars, showed but dimly. As the speed increased, the
sun began to sway very slowly in the sky, from South to North, and then,
slowly again, from North to South.
So, amid a strange confusion of mind, the hours passed.
All this while had Pepper slept. Presently, feeling lonely and
distraught, I called to him, softly; but he took no notice. Again, I
called, raising my voice slightly; still he moved not. I walked over to
where he lay, and touched him with my foot, to rouse him. At the action,
gentle though it was, he fell to pieces. That is what happened; he
literally and actually crumbled into a mouldering heap of bones
For the space of, perhaps a minute, I stared down at the shapeless
heap, that had once been Pepper. I stood, feeling stunned. What can have
happened? I asked myself; not at once grasping the grim significance of
that little hill of ash. Then, as I stirred the heap with my foot, it
occurred to me that this could only happen in a great space of time.
Years--and years.
Outside, the weaving, fluttering light held the world. Inside, I stood,
trying to understand what it meant--what that little pile of dust and
dry bones, on the carpet, meant. But I could not think, coherently.
I glanced away, 'round the room, and now, for the first time, noticed
how dusty and old the place looked. Dust and dirt everywhere; piled in
little heaps in the corners, and spread about upon the furniture. The
very carpet, itself, was invisible beneath a coating of the same, all
pervading, material. As I walked, little clouds of the stuff rose up
from under my footsteps, and assailed my nostrils, with a dry, bitter
odor that made me wheeze, huskily.
Suddenly, as my glance fell again upon Pepper's remains, I stood still,
and gave voice to my confusion--questioning, aloud, whether the years
were, indeed, passing; whether this, which I had taken to be a form of
vision, was, in truth, a reality. I paused. A new thought had struck me.
Quickly, but with steps which, for the first time, I noticed, tottered,
I went across the room to the great pier-glass, and looked in. It was
too covered with grime, to give back any reflection, and, with trembling
hands, I began to rub off the dirt. Presently, I could see myself. The
thought that had come to me, was confirmed. Instead of the great, hale
man, who scarcely looked fifty, I was looking at a bent, decrepit man,
whose shoulders stooped, and whose face was wrinkled with the years of a
century. The hair--which a few short hours ago had been nearly coal
black--was now silvery white. Only the eyes were bright. Gradually, I
traced, in that ancient man, a faint resemblance to my self of
I turned away, and tottered to the window. I knew, now, that I was old,
and the knowledge seemed to confirm my trembling walk. For a little
space, I stared moodily out into the blurred vista of changeful
landscape. Even in that short time, a year passed, and, with a petulant
gesture, I left the window. As I did so, I noticed that my hand shook
with the palsy of old age; and a short sob choked its way through
For a little while, I paced, tremulously, between the window and the
table; my gaze wandering hither and thither, uneasily. How dilapidated
the room was. Everywhere lay the thick dust--thick, sleepy, and black.
The fender was a shape of rust. The chains that held the brass
clock-weights, had rusted through long ago, and now the weights lay on
the floor beneath; themselves two cones of verdigris.
As I glanced about, it seemed to me that I could see the very furniture
of the room rotting and decaying before my eyes. Nor was this fancy, on
my part; for, all at once, the bookshelf, along the sidewall, collapsed,
with a cracking and rending of rotten wood, precipitating its contents
upon the floor, and filling the room with a smother of dusty atoms.
How tired I felt. As I walked, it seemed that I could hear my dry
joints, creak and crack at every step. I wondered about my sister. Was
she dead, as well as Pepper? All had happened so quickly and suddenly.
This must be, indeed, the beginning of the end of all things! It
occurred to me, to go to look for her; but I felt too weary. And then,
she had been so queer about these happenings, of late. Of late! I
repeated the words, and laughed, feebly--mirthlessly, as the realization
was borne in upon me that I spoke of a time, half a century gone. Half a
century! It might have been twice as long!
I moved slowly to the window, and looked out once more across the
world. I can best describe the passage of day and night, at this period,
as a sort of gigantic, ponderous flicker. Moment by moment, the
acceleration of time continued; so that, at nights now, I saw the moon,
only as a swaying trail of palish fire, that varied from a mere line of
light to a nebulous path, and then dwindled again, disappearing
periodically.
The flicker of the days and nights quickened. The days had grown
perceptibly darker, and a queer quality of dusk lay, as it were, in the
atmosphere. The nights were so much lighter, that the stars were
scarcely to be seen, saving here and there an occasional hair-like line
of fire, that seemed to sway a little, with the moon.
Quicker, and ever quicker, ran the flicker of day and night; and,
suddenly it seemed, I was aware that the flicker had died out, and,
instead, there reigned a comparatively steady light, which was shed upon
all the world, from an eternal river of flame that swung up and down,
North and South, in stupendous, mighty swings.
The sky was now grown very much darker, and there was in the blue of it
a heavy gloom, as though a vast blackness peered through it upon the
earth. Yet, there was in it, also, a strange and awful clearness, and
emptiness. Periodically, I had glimpses of a ghostly track of fire that
swayed thin and darkly toward the sun-stream; vanished and reappeared.
It was the scarcely visible moon-stream.
Looking out at the landscape, I was conscious again, of a blurring sort
of 'flitter,' that came either from the light of the ponderous-swinging
sun-stream, or was the result of the incredibly rapid changes of the
earth's surface. And every few moments, so it seemed, the snow would lie
suddenly upon the world, and vanish as abruptly, as though an invisible
giant 'flitted' a white sheet off and on the earth.
Time fled, and the weariness that was mine, grew insupportable. I
turned from the window, and walked once across the room, the heavy dust
deadening the sound of my footsteps. Each step that I took, seemed a
greater effort than the one before. An intolerable ache, knew me in
every joint and limb, as I trod my way, with a weary uncertainty.
By the opposite wall, I came to a weak pause, and wondered, dimly, what
was my intent. I looked to my left, and saw my old chair. The thought of
sitting in it brought a faint sense of comfort to my bewildered
wretchedness. Yet, because I was so weary and old and tired, I would
scarcely brace my mind to do anything but stand, and wish myself past
those few yards. I rocked, as I stood. The floor, even, seemed a place
for rest; but the dust lay so thick and sleepy and black. I turned, with
a great effort of will, and made toward my chair. I reached it, with a
groan of thankfulness. I sat down.
Everything about me appeared to be growing dim. It was all so strange
and unthought of. Last night, I was a comparatively strong, though
elderly man; and now, only a few hours later--! I looked at the little
dust-heap that had once been Pepper. Hours! and I laughed, a feeble,
bitter laugh; a shrill, cackling laugh, that shocked my dimming senses.
For a while, I must have dozed. Then I opened my eyes, with a start.
Somewhere across the room, there had been a muffled noise of something
falling. I looked, and saw, vaguely, a cloud of dust hovering above a
pile of _debris_. Nearer the door, something else tumbled, with a crash.
It was one of the cupboards; but I was tired, and took little notice. I
closed my eyes, and sat there in a state of drowsy, semi-unconsciousness.
Once or twice--as though coming through thick mists--I heard noises,
faintly. Then I must have slept.
THE AWAKENING
I awoke, with a start. For a moment, I wondered where I was. Then
memory came to me....
The room was still lit with that strange light--half-sun, half-moon,
light. I felt refreshed, and the tired, weary ache had left me. I went
slowly across to the window, and looked out. Overhead, the river of
flame drove up and down, North and South, in a dancing semi-circle of
fire. As a mighty sleigh in the loom of time it seemed--in a sudden
fancy of mine--to be beating home the picks of the years. For, so vastly
had the passage of time been accelerated, that there was no longer any
sense of the sun passing from East to West. The only apparent movement
was the North and South beat of the sun-stream, that had become so swift
now, as to be better described as a _quiver_.
As I peered out, there came to me a sudden, inconsequent memory of that
last journey among the Outer worlds. I remembered the sudden vision that
had come to me, as I neared the Solar System, of the fast whirling
planets about the sun--as though the governing quality of time had been
held in abeyance, and the Machine of a Universe allowed to run down an
eternity, in a few moments or hours. The memory passed, along with a,
but partially comprehended, suggestion that I had been permitted a
glimpse into further time spaces. I stared out again, seemingly, at the
quake of the sun-stream. The speed seemed to increase, even as I looked.
Several lifetimes came and went, as I watched.
Suddenly, it struck me, with a sort of grotesque seriousness, that I
was still alive. I thought of Pepper, and wondered how it was that I had
not followed his fate. He had reached the time of his dying, and had
passed, probably through sheer length of years. And here was I, alive,
hundreds of thousands of centuries after my rightful period of years.
For, a time, I mused, absently. 'Yesterday--' I stopped, suddenly.
Yesterday! There was no yesterday. The yesterday of which I spoke had
been swallowed up in the abyss of years, ages gone. I grew dazed with
much thinking.
Presently, I turned from the window, and glanced 'round the room. It
seemed different--strangely, utterly different. Then, I knew what it was
that made it appear so strange. It was bare: there was not a piece of
furniture in the room; not even a solitary fitting of any sort.
Gradually, my amazement went, as I remembered, that this was but the
inevitable end of that process of decay, which I had witnessed
commencing, before my sleep. Thousands of years! Millions of years!
Over the floor was spread a deep layer of dust, that reached half way
up to the window-seat. It had grown immeasurably, whilst I slept; and
represented the dust of untold ages. Undoubtedly, atoms of the old,
decayed furniture helped to swell its bulk; and, somewhere among it all,
mouldered the long-ago-dead Pepper.
All at once, it occurred to me, that I had no recollection of wading
knee-deep through all that dust, after I awoke. True, an incredible age
of years had passed, since I approached the window; but that was
evidently as nothing, compared with the countless spaces of time that, I
conceived, had vanished whilst I was sleeping. I remembered now, that I
had fallen asleep, sitting in my old chair. Had it gone ...? I glanced
toward where it had stood. Of course, there was no chair to be seen. I
could not satisfy myself, whether it had disappeared, after my waking,
or before. If it had mouldered under me, surely, I should have been
waked by the collapse. Then I remembered that the thick dust, which
covered the floor, would have been sufficient to soften my fall; so that
it was quite possible, I had slept upon the dust for a million years
As these thoughts wandered through my brain, I glanced again, casually,
to where the chair had stood. Then, for the first time, I noticed that
there were no marks, in the dust, of my footprints, between it and the
window. But then, ages of years had passed, since I had awaked--tens of
thousands of years!
My look rested thoughtfully, again upon the place where once had stood
my chair. Suddenly, I passed from abstraction to intentness; for there,
in its standing place, I made out a long undulation, rounded off with
the heavy dust. Yet it was not so much hidden, but that I could tell
what had caused it. I knew--and shivered at the knowledge--that it was a
human body, ages-dead, lying there, beneath the place where I had slept.
It was lying on its right side, its back turned toward me. I could make
out and trace each curve and outline, softened, and moulded, as it were,
in the black dust. In a vague sort of way, I tried to account for its
presence there. Slowly, I began to grow bewildered, as the thought came
to me that it lay just about where I must have fallen when the chair
Gradually, an idea began to form itself within my brain; a thought that
shook my spirit. It seemed hideous and insupportable; yet it grew upon
me, steadily, until it became a conviction. The body under that coating,
that shroud of dust, was neither more nor less than my own dead shell. I
did not attempt to prove it. I knew it now, and wondered I had not known
it all along. I was a bodiless thing.
Awhile, I stood, trying to adjust my thoughts to this new problem. In
time--how many thousands of years, I know not--I attained to some degree
of quietude--sufficient to enable me to pay attention to what was
transpiring around me.
Now, I saw that the elongated mound had sunk, collapsed, level with the
rest of the spreading dust. And fresh atoms, impalpable, had settled
above that mixture of grave-powder, which the aeons had ground. A long
while, I stood, turned from the window. Gradually, I grew more
collected, while the world slipped across the centuries into the future.
Presently, I began a survey of the room. Now, I saw that time was
beginning its destructive work, even on this strange old building. That
it had stood through all the years was, it seemed to me, proof that it
was something different from any other house. I do not think, somehow,
that I had thought of its decaying. Though, why, I could not have said.
It was not until I had meditated upon the matter, for some considerable
time, that I fully realized that the extraordinary space of time through
which it had stood, was sufficient to have utterly pulverized the very
stones of which it was built, had they been taken from any earthly
quarry. Yes, it was undoubtedly mouldering now. All the plaster had gone
from the walls; even as the woodwork of the room had gone, many
ages before.
While I stood, in contemplation, a piece of glass, from one of the
small, diamond-shaped panes, dropped, with a dull tap, amid the dust
upon the sill behind me, and crumbled into a little heap of powder. As I
turned from contemplating it, I saw light between a couple of the stones
that formed the outer wall. Evidently, the mortar was falling away....
After awhile, I turned once more to the window, and peered out. I
discovered, now, that the speed of time had become enormous. The lateral
quiver of the sun-stream, had grown so swift as to cause the dancing
semi-circle of flame to merge into, and disappear in, a sheet of fire
that covered half the Southern sky from East to West.
From the sky, I glanced down to the gardens. They were just a blur of a
palish, dirty green. I had a feeling that they stood higher, than in the
old days; a feeling that they were nearer my window, as though they had
risen, bodily. Yet, they were still a long way below me; for the rock,
over the mouth of the pit, on which this house stands, arches up to a
great height.
It was later, that I noticed a change in the constant color of the
gardens. The pale, dirty green was growing ever paler and paler, toward
white. At last, after a great space, they became greyish-white, and
stayed thus for a very long time. Finally, however, the greyness began
to fade, even as had the green, into a dead white. And this remained,
constant and unchanged. And by this I knew that, at last, snow lay upon
all the Northern world.
And so, by millions of years, time winged onward through eternity, to
the end--the end, of which, in the old-earth days, I had thought
remotely, and in hazily speculative fashion. And now, it was approaching
in a manner of which none had ever dreamed.
I recollect that, about this time, I began to have a lively, though
morbid, curiosity, as to what would happen when the end came--but I
seemed strangely without imaginings.
All this while, the steady process of decay was continuing. The few
remaining pieces of glass, had long ago vanished; and, every now and
then, a soft thud, and a little cloud of rising dust, would tell of some
fragment of fallen mortar or stone.
I looked up again, to the fiery sheet that quaked in the heavens above
me and far down into the Southern sky. As I looked, the impression was
borne in upon me, that it had lost some of its first brilliancy--that it
was duller, deeper hued.
I glanced down, once more, to the blurred white of the worldscape.
Sometimes, my look returned to the burning sheet of dulling flame, that
was, and yet hid, the sun. At times, I glanced behind me, into the
growing dusk of the great, silent room, with its aeon-carpet of
sleeping dust....
So, I watched through the fleeting ages, lost in soul-wearing thoughts
and wonderings, and possessed with a new weariness.
THE SLOWING ROTATION
It might have been a million years later, that I perceived, beyond
possibility of doubt, that the fiery sheet that lit the world, was
indeed darkening.
Another vast space went by, and the whole enormous flame had sunk to a
deep, copper color. Gradually, it darkened, from copper to copper-red,
and from this, at times, to a deep, heavy, purplish tint, with, in it, a
strange loom of blood.
Although the light was decreasing, I could perceive no diminishment in
the apparent speed of the sun. It still spread itself in that dazzling
veil of speed.
The world, so much of it as I could see, had assumed a dreadful shade
of gloom, as though, in very deed, the last day of the worlds
The sun was dying; of that there could be little doubt; and still the
earth whirled onward, through space and all the aeons. At this time, I
remember, an extraordinary sense of bewilderment took me. I found
myself, later, wandering, mentally, amid an odd chaos of fragmentary
modern theories and the old Biblical story of the world's ending.
Then, for the first time, there flashed across me, the memory that the
sun, with its system of planets, was, and had been, traveling through
space at an incredible speed. Abruptly, the question rose--_Where?_ For
a very great time, I pondered this matter; but, finally, with a certain
sense of the futility of my puzzlings, I let my thoughts wander to other
things. I grew to wondering, how much longer the house would stand.
Also, I queried, to myself, whether I should be doomed to stay,
bodiless, upon the earth, through the dark-time that I knew was coming.
From these thoughts, I fell again to speculations upon the possible
direction of the sun's journey through space.... And so another great
while passed.
Gradually, as time fled, I began to feel the chill of a great winter.
Then, I remembered that, with the sun dying, the cold must be,
necessarily, extraordinarily intense. Slowly, slowly, as the aeons
slipped into eternity, the earth sank into a heavier and redder gloom.
The dull flame in the firmament took on a deeper tint, very somber
Then, at last, it was borne upon me that there was a change. The fiery,
gloomy curtain of flame that hung quaking overhead, and down away into
the Southern sky, began to thin and contract; and, in it, as one sees
the fast vibrations of a jarred harp-string, I saw once more the
sun-stream quivering, giddily, North and South.
Slowly, the likeness to a sheet of fire, disappeared, and I saw,
plainly, the slowing beat of the sun-stream. Yet, even then, the speed
of its swing was inconceivably swift. And all the time, the brightness
of the fiery arc grew ever duller. Underneath, the world loomed
dimly--an indistinct, ghostly region.
Overhead, the river of flame swayed slower, and even slower; until, at
last, it swung to the North and South in great, ponderous beats, that
lasted through seconds. A long space went by, and now each sway of the
great belt lasted nigh a minute; so that, after a great while, I ceased
to distinguish it as a visible movement; and the streaming fire ran in a
steady river of dull flame, across the deadly-looking sky.
An indefinite period passed, and it seemed that the arc of fire became
less sharply defined. It appeared to me to grow more attenuated, and I
thought blackish streaks showed, occasionally. Presently, as I watched,
the smooth onward-flow ceased; and I was able to perceive that there
came a momentary, but regular, darkening of the world. This grew until,
once more, night descended, in short, but periodic, intervals upon the
wearying earth.
Longer and longer became the nights, and the days equaled them; so
that, at last, the day and the night grew to the duration of seconds in
length, and the sun showed, once more, like an almost invisible,
coppery-red colored ball, within the glowing mistiness of its flight.
Corresponding to the dark lines, showing at times in its trail, there
were now distinctly to be seen on the half-visible sun itself, great,
Year after year flashed into the past, and the days and nights spread
into minutes. The sun had ceased to have the appearance of a tail; and
now rose and set--a tremendous globe of a glowing copper-bronze hue; in
parts ringed with blood-red bands; in others, with the dusky ones, that
I have already mentioned. These circles--both red and black--were of
varying thicknesses. For a time, I was at a loss to account for their
presence. Then it occurred to me, that it was scarcely likely that the
sun would cool evenly all over; and that these markings were due,
probably, to differences in temperature of the various areas; the red
representing those parts where the heat was still fervent, and the black
those portions which were already comparatively cool.
It struck me, as a peculiar thing, that the sun should cool in evenly
defined rings; until I remembered that, possibly, they were but isolated
patches, to which the enormous rotatory speed of the sun had imparted a
belt-like appearance. The sun, itself, was very much greater than the sun
I had known in the old-world days; and, from this, I argued that it was
considerably nearer.
At nights, the moon[6] still showed; but small and remote; and the
light she reflected was so dull and weak that she seemed little more
than the small, dim ghost of the olden moon, that I had known.
Gradually, the days and nights lengthened out, until they equaled a
space somewhat less than one of the old-earth hours; the sun rising and
setting like a great, ruddy bronze disk, crossed with ink-black bars.
About this time, I found myself, able once more, to see the gardens,
with clearness. For the world had now grown very still, and changeless.
Yet, I am not correct in saying, 'gardens'; for there were no
gardens--nothing that I knew or recognized. In place thereof, I looked
out upon a vast plain, stretching away into distance. A little to my
left, there was a low range of hills. Everywhere, there was a uniform,
white covering of snow, in places rising into hummocks and ridges.
It was only now, that I recognized how really great had been the
snowfall. In places it was vastly deep, as was witnessed by a great,
upleaping, wave-shaped hill, away to my right; though it is not
impossible, that this was due, in part, to some rise in the surface of
the ground. Strangely enough, the range of low hills to my
left--already mentioned--was not entirely covered with the universal
snow; instead, I could see their bare, dark sides showing in several
places. And everywhere and always there reigned an incredible
death-silence and desolation. The immutable, awful quiet of a
dying world.
All this time, the days and nights were lengthening, perceptibly.
Already, each day occupied, maybe, some two hours from dawn to dusk. At
night, I had been surprised to find that there were very few stars
overhead, and these small, though of an extraordinary brightness; which
I attributed to the peculiar, but clear, blackness of the nighttime.
Away to the North, I could discern a nebulous sort of mistiness; not
unlike, in appearance, a small portion of the Milky Way. It might have
been an extremely remote star-cluster; or--the thought came to me
suddenly--perhaps it was the sidereal universe that I had known, and now
left far behind, forever--a small, dimly glowing mist of stars, far in
the depths of space.
Still, the days and nights lengthened, slowly. Each time, the sun rose
duller than it had set. And the dark belts increased in breadth.
About this time, there happened a fresh thing. The sun, earth, and sky
were suddenly darkened, and, apparently, blotted out for a brief space.
I had a sense, a certain awareness (I could learn little by sight), that
the earth was enduring a very great fall of snow. Then, in an instant,
the veil that had obscured everything, vanished, and I looked out, once
more. A marvelous sight met my gaze. The hollow in which this house,
with its gardens, stands, was brimmed with snow.[7] It lipped over the
sill of my window. Everywhere, it lay, a great level stretch of white,
which caught and reflected, gloomily, the somber coppery glows of the
dying sun. The world had become a shadowless plain, from horizon
I glanced up at the sun. It shone with an extraordinary, dull
clearness. I saw it, now, as one who, until then, had seen it, only
through a partially obscuring medium. All about it, the sky had become
black, with a clear, deep blackness, frightful in its nearness, and its
unmeasured deep, and its utter unfriendliness. For a great time, I
looked into it, newly, and shaken and fearful. It was so near. Had I
been a child, I might have expressed some of my sensation and distress,
by saying that the sky had lost its roof.
Later, I turned, and peered about me, into the room. Everywhere, it was
covered with a thin shroud of the all-pervading white. I could see it
but dimly, by reason of the somber light that now lit the world. It
appeared to cling to the ruined walls; and the thick, soft dust of the
years, that covered the floor knee-deep, was nowhere visible. The snow
must have blown in through the open framework of the windows. Yet, in no
place had it drifted; but lay everywhere about the great, old room,
smooth and level. Moreover, there had been no wind these many thousand
years. But there was the snow,[8] as I have told.
And all the earth was silent. And there was a cold, such as no living
man can ever have known.
The earth was now illuminated, by day, with a most doleful light,
beyond my power to describe. It seemed as though I looked at the great
plain, through the medium of a bronze-tinted sea.
It was evident that the earth's rotatory movement was departing,
The end came, all at once. The night had been the longest yet; and
when the dying sun showed, at last, above the world's edge, I had grown
so wearied of the dark, that I greeted it as a friend. It rose steadily,
until about twenty degrees above the horizon. Then, it stopped suddenly,
and, after a strange retrograde movement, hung motionless--a great
shield in the sky[9]. Only the circular rim of the sun showed
bright--only this, and one thin streak of light near the equator.
Gradually, even this thread of light died out; and now, all that was
left of our great and glorious sun, was a vast dead disk, rimmed with a
thin circle of bronze-red light.
THE GREEN STAR
The world was held in a savage gloom--cold and intolerable. Outside,
all was quiet--quiet! From the dark room behind me, came the occasional,
soft thud[10] of falling matter--fragments of rotting stone. So time
passed, and night grasped the world, wrapping it in wrappings of
impenetrable blackness.
There was no night-sky, as we know it. Even the few straggling stars
had vanished, conclusively. I might have been in a shuttered room,
without a light; for all that I could see. Only, in the impalpableness
of gloom, opposite, burnt that vast, encircling hair of dull fire.
Beyond this, there was no ray in all the vastitude of night that
surrounded me; save that, far in the North, that soft, mistlike glow
still shone.
Silently, years moved on. What period of time passed, I shall never
know. It seemed to me, waiting there, that eternities came and went,
stealthily; and still I watched. I could see only the glow of the sun's
edge, at times; for now, it had commenced to come and go--lighting up a
while, and again becoming extinguished.
All at once, during one of these periods of life, a sudden flame cut
across the night--a quick glare that lit up the dead earth, shortly;
giving me a glimpse of its flat lonesomeness. The light appeared to come
from the sun--shooting out from somewhere near its center, diagonally. A
moment, I gazed, startled. Then the leaping flame sank, and the gloom
fell again. But now it was not so dark; and the sun was belted by a thin
line of vivid, white light. I stared, intently. Had a volcano broken out
on the sun? Yet, I negatived the thought, as soon as formed. I felt that
the light had been far too intensely white, and large, for such a cause.
Another idea there was, that suggested itself to me. It was, that one
of the inner planets had fallen into the sun--becoming incandescent,
under that impact. This theory appealed to me, as being more plausible,
and accounting more satisfactorily for the extraordinary size and
brilliance of the blaze, that had lit up the dead world, so
unexpectedly.
Full of interest and emotion, I stared, across the darkness, at that
line of white fire, cutting the night. One thing it told to me,
unmistakably: the sun was yet rotating at an enormous speed.[11] Thus, I
knew that the years were still fleeting at an incalculable rate; though
so far as the earth was concerned, life, and light, and time, were
things belonging to a period lost in the long gone ages.
After that one burst of flame, the light had shown, only as an
encircling band of bright fire. Now, however, as I watched, it began
slowly to sink into a ruddy tint, and, later, to a dark, copper-red
color; much as the sun had done. Presently, it sank to a deeper hue;
and, in a still further space of time, it began to fluctuate; having
periods of glowing, and anon, dying. Thus, after a great while, it
disappeared.
Long before this, the smoldering edge of the sun had deadened into
blackness. And so, in that supremely future time, the world, dark and
intensely silent, rode on its gloomy orbit around the ponderous mass of
the dead sun.
My thoughts, at this period, can be scarcely described. At first, they
were chaotic and wanting in coherence. But, later, as the ages came and
went, my soul seemed to imbibe the very essence of the oppressive
solitude and dreariness, that held the earth.
With this feeling, there came a wonderful clearness of thought, and I
realized, despairingly, that the world might wander for ever, through
that enormous night. For a while, the unwholesome idea filled me, with a
sensation of overbearing desolation; so that I could have cried like a
child. In time, however, this feeling grew, almost insensibly, less, and
an unreasoning hope possessed me. Patiently, I waited.
From time to time, the noise of dropping particles, behind in the room,
came dully to my ears. Once, I heard a loud crash, and turned,
instinctively, to look; forgetting, for the moment, the impenetrable
night in which every detail was submerged. In a while, my gaze sought
the heavens; turning, unconsciously, toward the North. Yes, the nebulous
glow still showed. Indeed, I could have almost imagined that it looked
somewhat plainer. For a long time, I kept my gaze fixed upon it;
feeling, in my lonely soul, that its soft haze was, in some way, a tie
with the past. Strange, the trifles from which one can suck comfort! And
yet, had I but known--But I shall come to that in its proper time.
For a very long space, I watched, without experiencing any of the
desire for sleep, that would so soon have visited me in the old-earth
days. How I should have welcomed it; if only to have passed the time,
away from my perplexities and thoughts.
Several times, the comfortless sound of some great piece of masonry
falling, disturbed my meditations; and, once, it seemed I could hear
whispering in the room, behind me. Yet it was utterly useless to try to
see anything. Such blackness, as existed, scarcely can be conceived. It
was palpable, and hideously brutal to the sense; as though something
dead, pressed up against me--something soft, and icily cold.
Under all this, there grew up within my mind, a great and overwhelming
distress of uneasiness, that left me, but to drop me into an
uncomfortable brooding. I felt that I must fight against it; and,
presently, hoping to distract my thoughts, I turned to the window, and
looked up toward the North, in search of the nebulous whiteness, which,
still, I believed to be the far and misty glowing of the universe we had
left. Even as I raised my eyes, I was thrilled with a feeling of wonder;
for, now, the hazy light had resolved into a single, great star, of
vivid green.
As I stared, astonished, the thought flashed into my mind; that the
earth must be traveling toward the star; not away, as I had imagined.
Next, that it could not be the universe the earth had left; but,
possibly, an outlying star, belonging to some vast star-cluster, hidden
in the enormous depths of space. With a sense of commingled awe and
curiosity, I watched it, wondering what new thing was to be revealed
For a while, vague thoughts and speculations occupied me, during which
my gaze dwelt insatiably upon that one spot of light, in the otherwise
pitlike darkness. Hope grew up within me, banishing the oppression of
despair, that had seemed to stifle me. Wherever the earth was traveling,
it was, at least, going once more toward the realms of light. Light! One
must spend an eternity wrapped in soundless night, to understand the
full horror of being without it.
Slowly, but surely, the star grew upon my vision, until, in time, it
shone as brightly as had the planet Jupiter, in the old-earth days. With
increased size, its color became more impressive; reminding me of a huge
emerald, scintillating rays of fire across the world.
Years fled away in silence, and the green star grew into a great splash
of flame in the sky. A little later, I saw a thing that filled me with
amazement. It was the ghostly outline of a vast crescent, in the night;
a gigantic new moon, seeming to be growing out of the surrounding gloom.
Utterly bemused, I stared at it. It appeared to be quite
close--comparatively; and I puzzled to understand how the earth had come
so near to it, without my having seen it before.
The light, thrown by the star, grew stronger; and, presently, I was
aware that it was possible to see the earthscape again; though
indistinctly. Awhile, I stared, trying to make out whether I could
distinguish any detail of the world's surface, but I found the light
insufficient. In a little, I gave up the attempt, and glanced once more
toward the star. Even in the short space, that my attention had been
diverted, it had increased considerably, and seemed now, to my
bewildered sight, about a quarter of the size of the full moon. The
light it threw, was extraordinarily powerful; yet its color was so
abominably unfamiliar, that such of the world as I could see, showed
unreal; more as though I looked out upon a landscape of shadow, than
All this time, the great crescent was increasing in brightness, and
began, now, to shine with a perceptible shade of green. Steadily, the
star increased in size and brilliancy, until it showed, fully as large
as half a full moon; and, as it grew greater and brighter, so did the
vast crescent throw out more and more light, though of an ever deepening
hue of green. Under the combined blaze of their radiances, the
wilderness that stretched before me, became steadily more visible. Soon,
I seemed able to stare across the whole world, which now appeared,
beneath the strange light, terrible in its cold and awful, flat
It was a little later, that my attention was drawn to the fact, that
the great star of green flame, was slowly sinking out of the North,
toward the East. At first, I could scarcely believe that I saw aright;
but soon there could be no doubt that it was so. Gradually, it sank,
and, as it fell, the vast crescent of glowing green, began to dwindle
and dwindle, until it became a mere arc of light, against the livid
colored sky. Later it vanished, disappearing in the self-same spot from
which I had seen it slowly emerge.
By this time, the star had come to within some thirty degrees of the
hidden horizon. In size it could now have rivaled the moon at its full;
though, even yet, I could not distinguish its disk. This fact led me to
conceive that it was, still, an extraordinary distance away; and, this
being so, I knew that its size must be huge, beyond the conception of
man to understand or imagine.
Suddenly, as I watched, the lower edge of the star vanished--cut by a
straight, dark line. A minute--or a century--passed, and it dipped
lower, until the half of it had disappeared from sight. Far away out on
the great plain, I saw a monstrous shadow blotting it out, and advancing
swiftly. Only a third of the star was visible now. Then, like a flash,
the solution of this extraordinary phenomenon revealed itself to me. The
star was sinking behind the enormous mass of the dead sun. Or rather,
the sun--obedient to its attraction--was rising toward it,[12] with the
earth following in its trail. As these thoughts expanded in my mind, the
star vanished; being completely hidden by the tremendous bulk of the
sun. Over the earth there fell, once more, the brooding night.
With the darkness, came an intolerable feeling of loneliness and dread.
For the first time, I thought of the Pit, and its inmates. After that,
there rose in my memory the still more terrible Thing, that had haunted
the shores of the Sea of Sleep, and lurked in the shadows of this old
building. Where were they? I wondered--and shivered with miserable
thoughts. For a time, fear held me, and I prayed, wildly and
incoherently, for some ray of light with which to dispel the cold
blackness that enveloped the world.
How long I waited, it is impossible to say--certainly for a very great
period. Then, all at once, I saw a loom of light shine out ahead.
Gradually, it became more distinct. Suddenly, a ray of vivid green,
flashed across the darkness. At the same moment, I saw a thin line of
livid flame, far in the night. An instant, it seemed, and it had grown
into a great clot of fire; beneath which, the world lay bathed in a
blaze of emerald green light. Steadily it grew, until, presently, the
whole of the green star had come into sight again. But now, it could be
scarcely called a star; for it had increased to vast proportions, being
incomparably greater than the sun had been in the olden time.
"Then, as I stared, I became aware that I could see the edge of the
lifeless sun, glowing like a great crescent-moon. Slowly, its lighted
surface, broadened out to me, until half of its diameter was visible;
and the star began to drop away on my right. Time passed, and the earth
moved on, slowly traversing the tremendous face of the dead sun." [13]
Gradually, as the earth traveled forward, the star fell still more to
the right; until, at last, it shone on the back of the house, sending a
flood of broken rays, in through the skeleton-like walls. Glancing
upward, I saw that much of the ceiling had vanished, enabling me to see
that the upper storeys were even more decayed. The roof had, evidently,
gone entirely; and I could see the green effulgence of the Starlight
shining in, slantingly.
THE END OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM
From the abutment, where once had been the windows, through which I had
watched that first, fatal dawn, I could see that the sun was hugely
greater, than it had been, when first the Star lit the world. So great
was it, that its lower edge seemed almost to touch the far horizon. Even
as I watched, I imagined that it drew closer. The radiance of green that
lit the frozen earth, grew steadily brighter.
Thus, for a long space, things were. Then, on a sudden, I saw that the
sun was changing shape, and growing smaller, just as the moon would have
done in past time. In a while, only a third of the illuminated part was
turned toward the earth. The Star bore away on the left.
Gradually, as the world moved on, the Star shone upon the front of the
house, once more; while the sun showed, only as a great bow of green
fire. An instant, it seemed, and the sun had vanished. The Star was
still fully visible. Then the earth moved into the black shadow of the
sun, and all was night--Night, black, starless, and intolerable.
Filled with tumultuous thoughts, I watched across the night--waiting.
Years, it may have been, and then, in the dark house behind me, the
clotted stillness of the world was broken. I seemed to hear a soft
padding of many feet, and a faint, inarticulate whisper of sound, grew
on my sense. I looked 'round into the blackness, and saw a multitude of
eyes. As I stared, they increased, and appeared to come toward me. For
an instant, I stood, unable to move. Then a hideous swine-noise[14] rose
up into the night; and, at that, I leapt from the window, out on to the
frozen world. I have a confused notion of having run awhile; and, after
that, I just waited--waited. Several times, I heard shrieks; but always
as though from a distance. Except for these sounds, I had no idea of the
whereabouts of the house. Time moved onward. I was conscious of little,
save a sensation of cold and hopelessness and fear.
An age, it seemed, and there came a glow, that told of the coming
light. It grew, tardily. Then--with a loom of unearthly glory--the first
ray from the Green Star, struck over the edge of the dark sun, and lit
the world. It fell upon a great, ruined structure, some two hundred
yards away. It was the house. Staring, I saw a fearsome sight--over its
walls crawled a legion of unholy things, almost covering the old
building, from tottering towers to base. I could see them, plainly; they
were the Swine-creatures.
The world moved out into the light of the Star, and I saw that, now, it
seemed to stretch across a quarter of the heavens. The glory of its
livid light was so tremendous, that it appeared to fill the sky with
quivering flames. Then, I saw the sun. It was so close that half of its
diameter lay below the horizon; and, as the world circled across its
face, it seemed to tower right up into the sky, a stupendous dome of
emerald colored fire. From time to time, I glanced toward the house; but
the Swine-things seemed unaware of my proximity.
Years appeared to pass, slowly. The earth had almost reached the center
of the sun's disk. The light from the Green _Sun_--as now it must be
called--shone through the interstices, that gapped the mouldered walls
of the old house, giving them the appearance of being wrapped in green
flames. The Swine-creatures still crawled about the walls.
Suddenly, there rose a loud roar of swine-voices, and, up from the
center of the roofless house, shot a vast column of blood-red flame. I
saw the little, twisted towers and turrets flash into fire; yet still
preserving their twisted crookedness. The beams of the Green Sun, beat
upon the house, and intermingled with its lurid glows; so that it
appeared a blazing furnace of red and green fire.
Fascinated, I watched, until an overwhelming sense of coming danger,
drew my attention. I glanced up, and, at once, it was borne upon me,
that the sun was closer; so close, in fact, that it seemed to overhang
the world. Then--I know not how--I was caught up into strange
heights--floating like a bubble in the awful effulgence.
Far below me, I saw the earth, with the burning house leaping into an
ever growing mountain of flame, 'round about it, the ground appeared to
be glowing; and, in places, heavy wreaths of yellow smoke ascended from
the earth. It seemed as though the world were becoming ignited from that
one plague-spot of fire. Faintly, I could see the Swine-things. They
appeared quite unharmed. Then the ground seemed to cave in, suddenly,
and the house, with its load of foul creatures, disappeared into the
depths of the earth, sending a strange, blood colored cloud into the
heights. I remembered the hell Pit under the house.
In a while, I looked 'round. The huge bulk of the sun, rose high above
me. The distance between it and the earth, grew rapidly less. Suddenly,
the earth appeared to shoot forward. In a moment, it had traversed the
space between it and the sun. I heard no sound; but, out from the sun's
face, gushed an ever-growing tongue of dazzling flame. It seemed to
leap, almost to the distant Green Sun--shearing through the emerald
light, a very cataract of blinding fire. It reached its limit, and sank;
and, on the sun, glowed a vast splash of burning white--the grave of
The sun was very close to me, now. Presently, I found that I was rising
higher; until, at last, I rode above it, in the emptiness. The Green Sun
was now so huge that its breadth seemed to fill up all the sky, ahead. I
looked down, and noted that the sun was passing directly beneath me.
A year may have gone by--or a century--and I was left, suspended,
alone. The sun showed far in front--a black, circular mass, against the
molten splendor of the great, Green Orb. Near one edge, I observed that
a lurid glow had appeared, marking the place where the earth had fallen.
By this, I knew that the long-dead sun was still revolving, though with
great slowness.
Afar to my right, I seemed to catch, at times, a faint glow of whitish
light. For a great time, I was uncertain whether to put this down to
fancy or not. Thus, for a while, I stared, with fresh wonderings; until,
at last, I knew that it was no imaginary thing; but a reality. It grew
brighter; and, presently, there slid out of the green, a pale globe of
softest white. It came nearer, and I saw that it was apparently
surrounded by a robe of gently glowing clouds. Time passed....
I glanced toward the diminishing sun. It showed, only as a dark blot on
the face of the Green Sun. As I watched, I saw it grow smaller,
steadily, as though rushing toward the superior orb, at an immense
speed. Intently, I stared. What would happen? I was conscious of
extraordinary emotions, as I realized that it would strike the Green
Sun. It grew no bigger than a pea, and I looked, with my whole soul, to
witness the final end of our System--that system which had borne the
world through so many aeons, with its multitudinous sorrows and
joys; and now--
Suddenly, something crossed my vision, cutting from sight all vestige
of the spectacle I watched with such soul-interest. What happened to the
dead sun, I did not see; but I have no reason--in the light of that
which I saw afterward--to disbelieve that it fell into the strange fire
of the Green Sun, and so perished.
And then, suddenly, an extraordinary question rose in my mind, whether
this stupendous globe of green fire might not be the vast Central
Sun--the great sun, 'round which our universe and countless others
revolve. I felt confused. I thought of the probable end of the dead sun,
and another suggestion came, dumbly--Do the dead stars make the Green
Sun their grave? The idea appealed to me with no sense of grotesqueness;
but rather as something both possible and probable.
THE CELESTIAL GLOBES
For a while, many thoughts crowded my mind, so that I was unable to do
aught, save stare, blindly, before me. I seemed whelmed in a sea of
doubt and wonder and sorrowful remembrance.
It was later, that I came out of my bewilderment. I looked about,
dazedly. Thus, I saw so extraordinary a sight that, for a while, I could
scarcely believe I was not still wrapped in the visionary tumult of my
own thoughts. Out of the reigning green, had grown a boundless river of
softly shimmering globes--each one enfolded in a wondrous fleece of pure
cloud. They reached, both above and below me, to an unknown distance;
and, not only hid the shining of the Green Sun; but supplied, in place
thereof, a tender glow of light, that suffused itself around me, like
unto nothing I have ever seen, before or since.
In a little, I noticed that there was about these spheres, a sort of
transparency, almost as though they were formed of clouded crystal,
within which burned a radiance--gentle and subdued. They moved on, past
me, continually, floating onward at no great speed; but rather as
though they had eternity before them. A great while, I watched, and
could perceive no end to them. At times, I seemed to distinguish faces,
amid the cloudiness; but strangely indistinct, as though partly real,
and partly formed of the mistiness through which they showed.
For a long time, I waited, passively, with a sense of growing content.
I had no longer that feeling of unutterable loneliness; but felt,
rather, that I was less alone, than I had been for kalpas of years. This
feeling of contentment, increased, so that I would have been satisfied
to float in company with those celestial globules, forever.
Ages slipped by, and I saw the shadowy faces, with increased frequency,
also with greater plainness. Whether this was due to my soul having
become more attuned to its surroundings, I cannot tell--probably it was
so. But, however this may be, I am assured now, only of the fact that I
became steadily more conscious of a new mystery about me, telling me
that I had, indeed, penetrated within the borderland of some
unthought-of region--some subtle, intangible place, or form, of
The enormous stream of luminous spheres continued to pass me, at an
unvarying rate--countless millions; and still they came, showing no
signs of ending, nor even diminishing.
Then, as I was borne, silently, upon the unbuoying ether, I felt a
sudden, irresistible, forward movement, toward one of the passing
globes. An instant, and I was beside it. Then, I slid through, into the
interior, without experiencing the least resistance, of any description.
For a short while, I could see nothing; and waited, curiously.
All at once, I became aware that a sound broke the inconceivable
stillness. It was like the murmur of a great sea at calm--a sea
breathing in its sleep. Gradually, the mist that obscured my sight,
began to thin away; and so, in time, my vision dwelt once again upon the
silent surface of the Sea of Sleep.
For a little, I gazed, and could scarcely believe I saw aright. I
glanced 'round. There was the great globe of pale fire, swimming, as I
had seen it before, a short distance above the dim horizon. To my left,
far across the sea, I discovered, presently, a faint line, as of thin
haze, which I guessed to be the shore, where my Love and I had met,
during those wonderful periods of soul-wandering, that had been granted
to me in the old earth days.
Another, a troubled, memory came to me--of the Formless Thing that had
haunted the shores of the Sea of Sleep. The guardian of that silent,
echoless place. These, and other, details, I remembered, and knew,
without doubt that I was looking out upon that same sea. With the
assurance, I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of surprise, and
joy, and shaken expectancy, conceiving it possible that I was about to
see my Love, again. Intently, I gazed around; but could catch no sight
of her. At that, for a little, I felt hopeless. Fervently, I prayed, and
ever peered, anxiously.... How still was the sea!
Down, far beneath me, I could see the many trails of changeful fire,
that had drawn my attention, formerly. Vaguely, I wondered what caused
them; also, I remembered that I had intended to ask my dear One about
them, as well as many other matters--and I had been forced to leave her,
before the half that I had wished to say, was said.
My thoughts came back with a leap. I was conscious that something had
touched me. I turned quickly. God, Thou wert indeed gracious--it was
She! She looked up into my eyes, with an eager longing, and I looked
down to her, with all my soul. I should like to have held her; but the
glorious purity of her face, kept me afar. Then, out of the winding
mist, she put her dear arms. Her whisper came to me, soft as the rustle
of a passing cloud. 'Dearest!' she said. That was all; but I had heard,
and, in a moment I held her to me--as I prayed--forever.
In a little, she spoke of many things, and I listened. Willingly, would
I have done so through all the ages that are to come. At times, I
whispered back, and my whispers brought to her spirit face, once more,
an indescribably delicate tint--the bloom of love. Later, I spoke more
freely, and to each word she listened, and made answer, delightfully; so
that, already, I was in Paradise.
She and I; and nothing, save the silent, spacious void to see us; and
only the quiet waters of the Sea of Sleep to hear us.
Long before, the floating multitude of cloud-enfolded spheres had
vanished into nothingness. Thus, we looked upon the face of the
slumberous deeps, and were alone. Alone, God, I would be thus alone in
the hereafter, and yet be never lonely! I had her, and, greater than
this, she had me. Aye, aeon-aged me; and on this thought, and some
others, I hope to exist through the few remaining years that may yet lie
THE DARK SUN
How long our souls lay in the arms of joy, I cannot say; but, all at
once, I was waked from my happiness, by a diminution of the pale and
gentle light that lit the Sea of Sleep. I turned toward the huge, white
orb, with a premonition of coming trouble. One side of it was curving
inward, as though a convex, black shadow were sweeping across it. My
memory went back. It was thus, that the darkness had come, before our
last parting. I turned toward my Love, inquiringly. With a sudden
knowledge of woe, I noticed how wan and unreal she had grown, even in
that brief space. Her voice seemed to come to me from a distance. The
touch of her hands was no more than the gentle pressure of a summer
wind, and grew less perceptible.
Already, quite half of the immense globe was shrouded. A feeling of
desperation seized me. Was she about to leave me? Would she have to go,
as she had gone before? I questioned her, anxiously, frightenedly; and
she, nestling closer, explained, in that strange, faraway voice, that it
was imperative she should leave me, before the Sun of Darkness--as she
termed it--blotted out the light. At this confirmation of my fears, I
was overcome with despair; and could only look, voicelessly, across the
quiet plains of the silent sea.
How swiftly the darkness spread across the face of the White Orb. Yet,
in reality, the time must have been long, beyond human comprehension.
At last, only a crescent of pale fire, lit the, now dim, Sea of Sleep.
All this while, she had held me; but, with so soft a caress, that I had
been scarcely conscious of it. We waited there, together, she and I;
speechless, for very sorrow. In the dimming light, her face showed,
shadowy--blending into the dusky mistiness that encircled us.
Then, when a thin, curved line of soft light was all that lit the sea,
she released me--pushing me from her, tenderly. Her voice sounded in my
ears, 'I may not stay longer, Dear One.' It ended in a sob.
She seemed to float away from me, and became invisible. Her voice came
to me, out of the shadows, faintly; apparently from a great distance:--
'A little while--' It died away, remotely. In a breath, the Sea of
Sleep darkened into night. Far to my left, I seemed to see, for a brief
instant, a soft glow. It vanished, and, in the same moment, I became
aware that I was no longer above the still sea; but once more suspended
in infinite space, with the Green Sun--now eclipsed by a vast, dark
sphere--before me.
Utterly bewildered, I stared, almost unseeingly, at the ring of green
flames, leaping above the dark edge. Even in the chaos of my thoughts, I
wondered, dully, at their extraordinary shapes. A multitude of questions
assailed me. I thought more of her, I had so lately seen, than of the
sight before me. My grief, and thoughts of the future, filled me. Was I
doomed to be separated from her, always? Even in the old earth-days, she
had been mine, only for a little while; then she had left me, as I
thought, forever. Since then, I had seen her but these times, upon the
Sea of Sleep.
A feeling of fierce resentment filled me, and miserable questionings.
Why could I not have gone with my Love? What reason to keep us apart?
Why had I to wait alone, while she slumbered through the years, on the
still bosom of the Sea of Sleep? The Sea of Sleep! My thoughts turned,
inconsequently, out of their channel of bitterness, to fresh, desperate
questionings. Where was it? Where was it? I seemed to have but just
parted from my Love, upon its quiet surface, and it had gone, utterly.
It could not be far away! And the White Orb which I had seen hidden in
the shadow of the Sun of Darkness! My sight dwelt upon the Green
Sun--eclipsed. What had eclipsed it? Was there a vast, dead star
circling it? Was the _Central_ Sun--as I had come to regard it--a double
star? The thought had come, almost unbidden; yet why should it not
My thoughts went back to the White Orb. Strange, that it should have
been--I stopped. An idea had come, suddenly. The White Orb and the Green
Sun! Were they one and the same? My imagination wandered backward, and I
remembered the luminous globe to which I had been so unaccountably
attracted. It was curious that I should have forgotten it, even
momentarily. Where were the others? I reverted again to the globe I had
entered. I thought, for a time, and matters became clearer. I conceived
that, by entering that impalpable globule, I had passed, at once, into
some further, and, until then, invisible dimension; There, the Green Sun
was still visible; but as a stupendous sphere of pale, white
light--almost as though its ghost showed, and not its material part.
A long time, I mused on the subject. I remembered how, on entering the
sphere, I had, immediately, lost all sight of the others. For a still
further period, I continued to revolve the different details in my mind.
In a while, my thoughts turned to other things. I came more into the
present, and began to look about me, seeingly. For the first time, I
perceived that innumerable rays, of a subtle, violet hue, pierced the
strange semi-darkness, in all directions. They radiated from the fiery
rim of the Green Sun. They seemed to grow upon my vision, so that, in a
little, I saw that they were countless. The night was filled with
them--spreading outward from the Green Sun, fan-wise. I concluded that I
was enabled to see them, by reason of the Sun's glory being cut off by
the eclipse. They reached right out into space, and vanished.
Gradually, as I looked, I became aware that fine points of intensely
brilliant light, traversed the rays. Many of them seemed to travel from
the Green Sun, into distance. Others came out of the void, toward the
Sun; but one and all, each kept strictly to the ray in which it
traveled. Their speed was inconceivably great; and it was only when they
neared the Green Sun, or as they left it, that I could see them as
separate specks of light. Further from the sun, they became thin lines
of vivid fire within the violet.
The discovery of these rays, and the moving sparks, interested me,
extraordinarily. To where did they lead, in such countless profusion? I
thought of the worlds in space.... And those sparks! Messengers!
Possibly, the idea was fantastic; but I was not conscious of its being
so. Messengers! Messengers from the Central Sun!
An idea evolved itself, slowly. Was the Green Sun the abode of some
vast Intelligence? The thought was bewildering. Visions of the Unnameable
rose, vaguely. Had I, indeed, come upon the dwelling-place of the
Eternal? For a time, I repelled the thought, dumbly. It was too
stupendous. Yet....
Huge, vague thoughts had birth within me. I felt, suddenly, terribly
naked. And an awful Nearness, shook me.
And Heaven ...! Was that an illusion?
My thoughts came and went, erratically. The Sea of Sleep--and she!
Heaven.... I came back, with a bound, to the present. Somewhere, out of
the void behind me, there rushed an immense, dark body--huge and silent.
It was a dead star, hurling onward to the burying place of the stars. It
drove between me and the Central Suns--blotting them out from my vision,
and plunging me into an impenetrable night.
An age, and I saw again the violet rays. A great while later--aeons it
must have been--a circular glow grew in the sky, ahead, and I saw the
edge of the receding star, show darkly against it. Thus, I knew that it
was nearing the Central Suns. Presently, I saw the bright ring of the
Green Sun, show plainly against the night The star had passed into the
shadow of the Dead Sun. After that, I just waited. The strange years
went slowly, and ever, I watched, intently.
'The thing I had expected, came at last--suddenly, awfully. A vast
flare of dazzling light. A streaming burst of white flame across the
dark void. For an indefinite while, it soared outward--a gigantic
mushroom of fire. It ceased to grow. Then, as time went by, it began to
sink backward, slowly. I saw, now, that it came from a huge, glowing
spot near the center of the Dark Sun. Mighty flames, still soared
outward from this. Yet, spite of its size, the grave of the star was no
more than the shining of Jupiter upon the face of an ocean, when
compared with the inconceivable mass of the Dead Sun.
I may remark here, once more, that no words will ever convey to the
imagination, the enormous bulk of the two Central Suns.
THE DARK NEBULA
Years melted into the past, centuries, aeons. The light of the
incandescent star, sank to a furious red.
It was later, that I saw the dark nebula--at first, an impalpable
cloud, away to my right. It grew, steadily, to a clot of blackness in
the night. How long I watched, it is impossible to say; for time, as we
count it, was a thing of the past. It came closer, a shapeless
monstrosity of darkness--tremendous. It seemed to slip across the night,
sleepily--a very hell-fog. Slowly, it slid nearer, and passed into the
void, between me and the Central Suns. It was as though a curtain had
been drawn before my vision. A strange tremor of fear took me, and a
fresh sense of wonder.
The green twilight that had reigned for so many millions of years, had
now given place to impenetrable gloom. Motionless, I peered about me. A
century fled, and it seemed to me that I detected occasional dull glows
of red, passing me at intervals.
Earnestly, I gazed, and, presently, seemed to see circular masses, that
showed muddily red, within the clouded blackness. They appeared to be
growing out of the nebulous murk. Awhile, and they became plainer to my
accustomed vision. I could see them, now, with a fair amount of
distinctness--ruddy-tinged spheres, similar, in size, to the luminous
globes that I had seen, so long previously.
They floated past me, continually. Gradually, a peculiar uneasiness
seized me. I became aware of a growing feeling of repugnance and dread.
It was directed against those passing orbs, and seemed born of intuitive
knowledge, rather than of any real cause or reason.
Some of the passing globes were brighter than others; and, it was from
one of these, that a face looked, suddenly. A face, human in its
outline; but so tortured with woe, that I stared, aghast. I had not
thought there was such sorrow, as I saw there. I was conscious of an
added sense of pain, on perceiving that the eyes, which glared so
wildly, were sightless. A while longer, I saw it; then it had passed on,
into the surrounding gloom. After this, I saw others--all wearing that
look of hopeless sorrow; and blind.
A long time went by, and I became aware that I was nearer to the orbs,
than I had been. At this, I grew uneasy; though I was less in fear of
those strange globules, than I had been, before seeing their sorrowful
inhabitants; for sympathy had tempered my fear.
Later, there was no doubt but that I was being carried closer to the
red spheres, and, presently, I floated among them. In awhile, I
perceived one bearing down upon me. I was helpless to move from its
path. In a minute, it seemed, it was upon me, and I was submerged in a
deep red mist. This cleared, and I stared, confusedly, across the
immense breadth of the Plain of Silence. It appeared just as I had first
seen it. I was moving forward, steadily, across its surface. Away ahead,
shone the vast, blood-red ring [15] that lit the place. All around, was
spread the extraordinary desolation of stillness, that had so impressed
me during my previous wanderings across its starkness.
Presently, I saw, rising up into the ruddy gloom, the distant peaks of
the mighty amphitheatre of mountains, where, untold ages before, I had
been shown my first glimpse of the terrors that underlie many things;
and where, vast and silent, watched by a thousand mute gods, stands the
replica of this house of mysteries--this house that I had seen swallowed
up in that hell-fire, ere the earth had kissed the sun, and vanished
Though I could see the crests of the mountain-amphitheatre, yet it was
a great while before their lower portions became visible. Possibly, this
was due to the strange, ruddy haze, that seemed to cling to the surface
of the Plain. However, be this as it may, I saw them at last.
In a still further space of time, I had come so close to the mountains,
that they appeared to overhang me. Presently, I saw the great rift, open
before me, and I drifted into it; without volition on my part.
Later, I came out upon the breadth of the enormous arena. There, at an
apparent distance of some five miles, stood the House, huge, monstrous
and silent--lying in the very center of that stupendous amphitheatre. So
far as I could see, it had not altered in any way; but looked as though
it were only yesterday that I had seen it. Around, the grim, dark
mountains frowned down upon me from their lofty silences.
Far to my right, away up among inaccessible peaks, loomed the enormous
bulk of the great Beast-god. Higher, I saw the hideous form of the dread
goddess, rising up through the red gloom, thousands of fathoms above
me. To the left, I made out the monstrous Eyeless-Thing, grey and
inscrutable. Further off, reclining on its lofty ledge, the livid
Ghoul-Shape showed--a splash of sinister color, among the dark
Slowly, I moved out across the great arena--floating. As I went, I made
out the dim forms of many of the other lurking Horrors that peopled
those supreme heights.
Gradually, I neared the House, and my thoughts flashed back across the
abyss of years. I remembered the dread Specter of the Place. A short
while passed, and I saw that I was being wafted directly toward the
enormous mass of that silent building.
About this time, I became aware, in an indifferent sort of way, of a
growing sense of numbness, that robbed me of the fear, which I should
otherwise have felt, on approaching that awesome Pile. As it was, I
viewed it, calmly--much as a man views calamity through the haze of his
tobacco smoke.
In a little while, I had come so close to the House, as to be able to
distinguish many of the details about it. The longer I looked, the more
was I confirmed in my long-ago impressions of its entire similitude to
this strange house. Save in its enormous size, I could find
nothing unlike.
Suddenly, as I stared, a great feeling of amazement filled me. I had
come opposite to that part, where the outer door, leading into the
study, is situated. There, lying right across the threshold, lay a great
length of coping stone, identical--save in size and color--with the
piece I had dislodged in my fight with the Pit-creatures.
I floated nearer, and my astonishment increased, as I noted that the
door was broken partly from its hinges, precisely in the manner that my
study door had been forced inward, by the assaults of the Swine-things.
The sight started a train of thoughts, and I began to trace, dimly,
that the attack on this house, might have a far deeper significance than
I had, hitherto, imagined. I remembered how, long ago, in the old
earth-days, I had half suspected that, in some unexplainable manner,
this house, in which I live, was _en rapport_--to use a recognized
term--with that other tremendous structure, away in the midst of that
incomparable Plain.
Now, however, it began to be borne upon me, that I had but vaguely
conceived what the realization of my suspicion meant. I began to
understand, with a more than human clearness, that the attack I had
repelled, was, in some extraordinary manner, connected with an attack
upon that strange edifice.
With a curious inconsequence, my thoughts abruptly left the matter; to
dwell, wonderingly, upon the peculiar material, out of which the House
was constructed. It was--as I have mentioned, earlier--of a deep, green
color. Yet, now that I had come so close to it, I perceived that it
fluctuated at times, though slightly--glowing and fading, much as do the
fumes of phosphorus, when rubbed upon the hand, in the dark.
Presently, my attention was distracted from this, by coming to the
great entrance. Here, for the first time, I was afraid; for, all in a
moment, the huge doors swung back, and I drifted in between them,
helplessly. Inside, all was blackness, impalpable. In an instant, I had
crossed the threshold, and the great doors closed, silently, shutting me
in that lightless place.
For a while, I seemed to hang, motionless; suspended amid the darkness.
Then, I became conscious that I was moving again; where, I could not
tell. Suddenly, far down beneath me, I seemed to hear a murmurous noise
of Swine-laughter. It sank away, and the succeeding silence appeared
clogged with horror.
Then a door opened somewhere ahead; a white haze of light filtered
through, and I floated slowly into a room, that seemed strangely
familiar. All at once, there came a bewildering, screaming noise, that
deafened me. I saw a blurred vista of visions, flaming before my sight.
My senses were dazed, through the space of an eternal moment. Then, my
power of seeing, came back to me. The dizzy, hazy feeling passed, and I
saw, clearly.
I was seated in my chair, back again in this old study. My glance
wandered 'round the room. For a minute, it had a strange, quivery
appearance--unreal and unsubstantial. This disappeared, and I saw that
nothing was altered in any way. I looked toward the end window--the
blind was up.
I rose to my feet, shakily. As I did so, a slight noise, in the
direction of the door, attracted my attention. I glanced toward it. For
a short instant, it appeared to me that it was being closed, gently. I
stared, and saw that I must have been mistaken--it seemed closely shut.
With a succession of efforts, I trod my way to the window, and looked
out. The sun was just rising, lighting up the tangled wilderness of
gardens. For, perhaps, a minute, I stood, and stared. I passed my hand,
confusedly, across my forehead.
Presently, amid the chaos of my senses, a sudden thought came to me; I
turned, quickly, and called to Pepper. There was no answer, and I
stumbled across the room, in a quick access of fear. As I went, I tried
to frame his name; but my lips were numb. I reached the table, and
stooped down to him, with a catching at my heart. He was lying in the
shadow of the table, and I had not been able to see him, distinctly,
from the window. Now, as I stooped, I took my breath, shortly. There was
no Pepper; instead, I was reaching toward an elongated, little heap of
grey, ashlike dust....
I must have remained, in that half-stooped position, for some minutes.
I was dazed--stunned. Pepper had really passed into the land of shadows.
THE FOOTSTEPS IN THE GARDEN
Pepper is dead! Even now, at times, I seem scarcely able to realize
that this is so. It is many weeks, since I came back from that strange
and terrible journey through space and time. Sometimes, in my sleep, I
dream about it, and go through, in imagination, the whole of that
fearsome happening. When I wake, my thoughts dwell upon it. That
Sun--those Suns, were they indeed the great Central Suns, 'round which
the whole universe, of the unknown heavens, revolves? Who shall say? And
the bright globules, floating forever in the light of the Green Sun! And
the Sea of Sleep on which they float! How unbelievable it all is. If it
were not for Pepper, I should, even after the many extraordinary things
that I have witnessed, be inclined to imagine that it was but a gigantic
dream. Then, there is that dreadful, dark nebula (with its multitudes of
red spheres) moving always within the shadow of the Dark Sun, sweeping
along on its stupendous orbit, wrapped eternally in gloom. And the faces
that peered out at me! God, do they, and does such a thing really
exist? ... There is still that little heap of grey ash, on my study
floor. I will not have it touched.
At times, when I am calmer, I have wondered what became of the outer
planets of the Solar System. It has occurred to me, that they may have
broken loose from the sun's attraction, and whirled away into space.
This is, of course, only a surmise. There are so many things, about
which I wonder.
Now that I am writing, let me record that I am certain, there is
something horrible about to happen. Last night, a thing occurred, which
has filled me with an even greater terror, than did the Pit fear. I will
write it down now, and, if anything more happens, endeavor to make a
note of it, at once. I have a feeling, that there is more in this last
affair, than in all those others. I am shaky and nervous, even now, as I
write. Somehow, I think death is not very far away. Not that I fear
death--as death is understood. Yet, there is that in the air, which bids
me fear--an intangible, cold horror. I felt it last night. It
Last night, I was sitting here in my study, writing. The door, leading
into the garden, was half open. At times, the metallic rattle of a dog's
chain, sounded faintly. It belongs to the dog I have bought, since
Pepper's death. I will not have him in the house--not after Pepper.
Still, I have felt it better to have a dog about the place. They are
wonderful creatures.
I was much engrossed in my work, and the time passed, quickly.
Suddenly, I heard a soft noise on the path, outside in the garden--pad,
pad, pad, it went, with a stealthy, curious sound. I sat upright, with a
quick movement, and looked out through the opened door. Again the noise
came--pad, pad, pad. It appeared to be approaching. With a slight
feeling of nervousness, I stared into the gardens; but the night hid
Then the dog gave a long howl, and I started. For a minute, perhaps, I
peered, intently; but could hear nothing. After a little, I picked up
the pen, which I had laid down, and recommenced my work. The nervous
feeling had gone; for I imagined that the sound I had heard, was nothing
more than the dog walking 'round his kennel, at the length of his chain.
A quarter of an hour may have passed; then, all at once, the dog howled
again, and with such a plaintively sorrowful note, that I jumped to my
feet, dropping my pen, and inking the page on which I was at work.
'Curse that dog!' I muttered, noting what I had done. Then, even as I
said the words, there sounded again that queer--pad, pad, pad. It was
horribly close--almost by the door, I thought. I knew, now, that it
could not be the dog; his chain would not allow him to come so near.
The dog's growl came again, and I noted, subconsciously, the taint of
Outside, on the windowsill, I could see Tip, my sister's pet cat. As I
looked, it sprang to its feet, its tail swelling, visibly. For an
instant it stood thus; seeming to stare, fixedly, at something, in the
direction of the door. Then, quickly, it began to back along the sill;
until, reaching the wall at the end, it could go no further. There it
stood, rigid, as though frozen in an attitude of extraordinary terror.
Frightened, and puzzled, I seized a stick from the corner, and went
toward the door, silently; taking one of the candles with me. I had come
to within a few paces of it, when, suddenly, a peculiar sense of fear
thrilled through me--a fear, palpitant and real; whence, I knew not, nor
why. So great was the feeling of terror, that I wasted no time; but
retreated straight-way--walking backward, and keeping my gaze,
fearfully, on the door. I would have given much, to rush at it, fling it
to, and shoot the bolts; for I have had it repaired and strengthened,
so that, now, it is far stronger than ever it has been. Like Tip, I
continued my, almost unconscious, progress backward, until the wall
brought me up. At that, I started, nervously, and glanced 'round,
apprehensively. As I did so, my eyes dwelt, momentarily, on the rack of
firearms, and I took a step toward them; but stopped, with a curious
feeling that they would be needless. Outside, in the gardens, the dog
moaned, strangely.
Suddenly, from the cat, there came a fierce, long screech. I glanced,
jerkily, in its direction--Something, luminous and ghostly, encircled
it, and grew upon my vision. It resolved into a glowing hand,
transparent, with a lambent, greenish flame flickering over it. The cat
gave a last, awful caterwaul, and I saw it smoke and blaze. My breath
came with a gasp, and I leant against the wall. Over that part of the
window there spread a smudge, green and fantastic. It hid the thing from
me, though the glare of fire shone through, dully. A stench of burning,
stole into the room.
Pad, pad, pad--Something passed down the garden path, and a faint,
mouldy odor seemed to come in through the open door, and mingle with the
burnt smell.
The dog had been silent for a few moments. Now, I heard him yowl,
sharply, as though in pain. Then, he was quiet, save for an occasional,
subdued whimper of fear.
A minute went by; then the gate on the West side of the gardens,
slammed, distantly. After that, nothing; not even the dog's whine.
I must have stood there some minutes. Then a fragment of courage stole
into my heart, and I made a frightened rush at the door, dashed it to,
and bolted it. After that, for a full half-hour, I sat,
helpless--staring before me, rigidly.
Slowly, my life came back into me, and I made my way, shakily,
up-stairs to bed.
That is all.
THE THING FROM THE ARENA
This morning, early, I went through the gardens; but found everything
as usual. Near the door, I examined the path, for footprints; yet, here
again, there was nothing to tell me whether, or not, I dreamed
It was only when I came to speak to the dog, that I discovered tangible
proof, that something did happen. When I went to his kennel, he kept
inside, crouching up in one corner, and I had to coax him, to get him
out. When, finally, he consented to come, it was in a strangely cowed
and subdued manner. As I patted him, my attention was attracted to a
greenish patch, on his left flank. On examining it, I found, that the
fur and skin had been apparently, burnt off; for the flesh showed, raw
and scorched. The shape of the mark was curious, reminding me of the
imprint of a large talon or hand.
I stood up, thoughtful. My gaze wandered toward the study window. The
rays of the rising sun, shimmered on the smoky patch in the lower
corner, causing it to fluctuate from green to red, oddly. Ah! that was
undoubtedly another proof; and, suddenly, the horrible Thing I saw last
night, rose in my mind. I looked at the dog, again. I knew the cause,
now, of that hateful looking wound on his side--I knew, also, that, what
I had seen last night, had been a real happening. And a great discomfort
filled me. Pepper! Tip! And now this poor animal ...! I glanced at the
dog again, and noticed that he was licking at his wound.
'Poor brute!' I muttered, and bent to pat his head. At that, he got
upon his feet, nosing and licking my hand, wistfully.
Presently, I left him, having other matters to which to attend.
After dinner, I went to see him, again. He seemed quiet, and
disinclined to leave his kennel. From my sister, I have learnt that he
has refused all food today. She appeared a little puzzled, when she told
me; though quite unsuspicious of anything of which to be afraid.
The day has passed, uneventfully enough. After tea, I went, again, to
have a look at the dog. He seemed moody, and somewhat restless; yet
persisted in remaining in his kennel. Before locking up, for the night,
I moved his kennel out, away from the wall, so that I shall be able to
watch it from the small window, tonight. The thought came to me, to
bring him into the house for the night; but consideration has decided
me, to let him remain out. I cannot say that the house is, in any
degree, less to be feared than the gardens. Pepper was in the house,
It is now two o'clock. Since eight, I have watched the kennel, from the
small, side window in my study. Yet, nothing has occurred, and I am too
tired to watch longer. I will go to bed....
During the night, I was restless. This is unusual for me; but, toward
morning, I obtained a few hours' sleep.
I rose early, and, after breakfast, visited the dog. He was quiet; but
morose, and refused to leave his kennel. I wish there was some horse
doctor near here; I would have the poor brute looked to. All day, he has
taken no food; but has shown an evident desire for water--lapping it up,
greedily. I was relieved to observe this.
The evening has come, and I am in my study. I intend to follow my plan
of last night, and watch the kennel. The door, leading into the garden,
is bolted, securely. I am consciously glad there are bars to the
Night:--Midnight has gone. The dog has been silent, up to the present.
Through the side window, on my left, I can make out, dimly, the outlines
of the kennel. For the first time, the dog moves, and I hear the rattle
of his chain. I look out, quickly. As I stare, the dog moves again,
restlessly, and I see a small patch of luminous light, shine from the
interior of the kennel. It vanishes; then the dog stirs again, and, once
more, the gleam comes. I am puzzled. The dog is quiet, and I can see the
luminous thing, plainly. It shows distinctly. There is something
familiar about the shape of it. For a moment, I wonder; then it comes to
me, that it is not unlike the four fingers and thumb of a hand. Like a
hand! And I remember the contour of that fearsome wound on the dog's
side. It must be the wound I see. It is luminous at night--Why? The
minutes pass. My mind is filled with this fresh thing....
Suddenly, I hear a sound, out in the gardens. How it thrills through
me. It is approaching. Pad, pad, pad. A prickly sensation traverses my
spine, and seems to creep across my scalp. The dog moves in his kennel,
and whimpers, frightenedly. He must have turned 'round; for, now, I can
no longer see the outline of his shining wound.
Outside, the gardens are silent, once more, and I listen, fearfully. A
minute passes, and another; then I hear the padding sound, again. It is
quite close, and appears to be coming down the graveled path. The noise
is curiously measured and deliberate. It ceases outside the door; and I
rise to my feet, and stand motionless. From the door, comes a slight
sound--the latch is being slowly raised. A singing noise is in my ears,
and I have a sense of pressure about the head--
The latch drops, with a sharp click, into the catch. The noise startles
me afresh; jarring, horribly, on my tense nerves. After that, I stand,
for a long while, amid an ever-growing quietness. All at once, my knees
begin to tremble, and I have to sit, quickly.
An uncertain period of time passes, and, gradually, I begin to shake
off the feeling of terror, that has possessed me. Yet, still I sit. I
seem to have lost the power of movement. I am strangely tired, and
inclined to doze. My eyes open and close, and, presently, I find myself
falling asleep, and waking, in fits and starts.
It is some time later, that I am sleepily aware that one of the candles
is guttering. When I wake again, it has gone out, and the room is very
dim, under the light of the one remaining flame. The semi-darkness
troubles me little. I have lost that awful sense of dread, and my only
desire seems to be to sleep--sleep.
Suddenly, although there is no noise, I am awake--wide awake. I am
acutely conscious of the nearness of some mystery, of some overwhelming
Presence. The very air seems pregnant with terror. I sit huddled, and
just listen, intently. Still, there is no sound. Nature, herself, seems
dead. Then, the oppressive stillness is broken by a little eldritch
scream of wind, that sweeps 'round the house, and dies away, remotely.
I let my gaze wander across the half-lighted room. By the great clock
in the far corner, is a dark, tall shadow. For a short instant, I stare,
frightenedly. Then, I see that it is nothing, and am, momentarily,
In the time that follows, the thought flashes through my brain, why
not leave this house--this house of mystery and terror? Then, as though
in answer, there sweeps up, across my sight, a vision of the wondrous
Sea of Sleep,--the Sea of Sleep where she and I have been allowed to
meet, after the years of separation and sorrow; and I know that I shall
stay on here, whatever happens.
Through the side window, I note the somber blackness of the night. My
glance wanders away, and 'round the room; resting on one shadowy object
and another. Suddenly, I turn, and look at the window on my right; as I
do so, I breathe quickly, and bend forward, with a frightened gaze at
something outside the window, but close to the bars. I am looking at a
vast, misty swine-face, over which fluctuates a flamboyant flame, of a
greenish hue. It is the Thing from the arena. The quivering mouth seems
to drip with a continual, phosphorescent slaver. The eyes are staring
straight into the room, with an inscrutable expression. Thus, I sit
rigidly--frozen.
The Thing has begun to move. It is turning, slowly, in my direction.
Its face is coming 'round toward me. It sees me. Two huge, inhumanly
human, eyes are looking through the dimness at me. I am cold with fear;
yet, even now, I am keenly conscious, and note, in an irrelevant way,
that the distant stars are blotted out by the mass of the giant face.
A fresh horror has come to me. I am rising from my chair, without the
least intention. I am on my feet, and something is impelling me toward
the door that leads out into the gardens. I wish to stop; but cannot.
Some immutable power is opposed to my will, and I go slowly forward,
unwilling and resistant. My glance flies 'round the room, helplessly,
and stops at the window. The great swine-face has disappeared, and I
hear, again, that stealthy pad, pad, pad. It stops outside the
door--the door toward which I am being compelled....
There succeeds a short, intense silence; then there comes a sound. It
is the rattle of the latch, being slowly lifted. At that, I am filled
with desperation. I will not go forward another step. I make a vast
effort to return; but it is, as though I press back, upon an invisible
wall. I groan out loud, in the agony of my fear, and the sound of my
voice is frightening. Again comes that rattle, and I shiver, clammily. I
try--aye, fight and struggle, to hold back, _back_; but it is no use....
I am at the door, and, in a mechanical way, I watch my hand go forward,
to undo the topmost bolt. It does so, entirely without my volition. Even
as I reach up toward the bolt, the door is violently shaken, and I get a
sickly whiff of mouldy air, which seems to drive in through the
interstices of the doorway. I draw the bolt back, slowly, fighting,
dumbly, the while. It comes out of its socket, with a click, and I begin
to shake, aguishly. There are two more; one at the bottom of the door;
the other, a massive affair, is placed about the middle.
For, perhaps a minute, I stand, with my arms hanging slackly, by my
sides. The influence to meddle with the fastenings of the door, seems to
have gone. All at once, there comes the sudden rattle of iron, at my
feet. I glance down, quickly, and realize, with an unspeakable terror,
that my foot is pushing back the lower bolt. An awful sense of
helplessness assails me.... The bolt comes out of its hold, with a
slight, ringing sound and I stagger on my feet, grasping at the great,
central bolt, for support. A minute passes, an eternity; then
another----My God, help me! I am being forced to work upon the last
fastening. _I will not!_ Better to die, than open to the Terror, that is
on the other side of the door. Is there no escape ...? God help me, I
have jerked the bolt half out of its socket! My lips emit a hoarse
scream of terror, the bolt is three parts drawn, now, and still my
unconscious hands work toward my doom. Only a fraction of steel, between
my soul and That. Twice, I scream out in the supreme agony of my fear;
then, with a mad effort, I tear my hands away. My eyes seem blinded. A
great blackness is falling upon me. Nature has come to my rescue. I feel
my knees giving. There is a loud, quick thudding upon the door, and I am
falling, falling....
I must have lain there, at least a couple of hours. As I recover, I am
aware that the other candle has burnt out, and the room is in an almost
total darkness. I cannot rise to my feet, for I am cold, and filled with
a terrible cramp. Yet my brain is clear, and there is no longer the
strain of that unholy influence.
Cautiously, I get upon my knees, and feel for the central bolt. I find
it, and push it securely back into its socket; then the one at the
bottom of the door. By this time, I am able to rise to my feet, and so
manage to secure the fastening at the top. After that, I go down upon my
knees, again, and creep away among the furniture, in the direction of
the stairs. By doing this, I am safe from observation from the window.
I reach the opposite door, and, as I leave the study, cast one nervous
glance over my shoulder, toward the window. Out in the night, I seem to
catch a glimpse of something impalpable; but it may be only a fancy.
Then, I am in the passage, and on the stairs.
Reaching my bedroom, I clamber into bed, all clothed as I am, and pull
the bedclothes over me. There, after awhile, I begin to regain a little
confidence. It is impossible to sleep; but I am grateful for the added
warmth of the bedclothes. Presently, I try to think over the happenings
of the past night; but, though I cannot sleep, I find that it is
useless, to attempt consecutive thought. My brain seems curiously blank.
Toward morning, I begin to toss, uneasily. I cannot rest, and, after
awhile, I get out of bed, and pace the floor. The wintry dawn is
beginning to creep through the windows, and shows the bare discomfort of
the old room. Strange, that, through all these years, it has never
occurred to me how dismal the place really is. And so a time passes.
From somewhere down stairs, a sound comes up to me. I go to the bedroom
door, and listen. It is Mary, bustling about the great, old kitchen,
getting the breakfast ready. I feel little interest. I am not hungry. My
thoughts, however; continue to dwell upon her. How little the weird
happenings in this house seem to trouble her. Except in the incident of
the Pit creatures, she has seemed unconscious of anything unusual
occurring. She is old, like myself; yet how little we have to do with
one another. Is it because we have nothing in common; or only that,
being old, we care less for society, than quietness? These and other
matters pass through my mind, as I meditate; and help to distract my
attention, for a while, from the oppressive thoughts of the night.
After a time, I go to the window, and, opening it, look out. The sun is
now above the horizon, and the air, though cold, is sweet and crisp.
Gradually, my brain clears, and a sense of security, for the time being,
comes to me. Somewhat happier, I go down stairs, and out into the
garden, to have a look at the dog.
As I approach the kennel, I am greeted by the same mouldy stench that
assailed me at the door last night. Shaking off a momentary sense of
fear, I call to the dog; but he takes no heed, and, after calling once
more, I throw a small stone into the kennel. At this, he moves,
uneasily, and I shout his name, again; but do not go closer. Presently,
my sister comes out, and joins me, in trying to coax him from
In a little the poor beast rises, and shambles out lurching queerly. In
the daylight he stands swaying from side to side, and blinking stupidly.
I look and note that the horrid wound is larger, much larger, and seems
to have a whitish, fungoid appearance. My sister moves to fondle him;
but I detain her, and explain that I think it will be better not to go
too near him for a few days; as it is impossible to tell what may be the
matter with him; and it is well to be cautious.
A minute later, she leaves me; coming back with a basin of odd scraps
of food. This she places on the ground, near the dog, and I push it into
his reach, with the aid of a branch, broken from one of the shrubs. Yet,
though the meat should be tempting, he takes no notice of it; but
retires to his kennel. There is still water in his drinking vessel, so,
after a few moments' talk, we go back to the house. I can see that my
sister is much puzzled as to what is the matter with the animal; yet it
would be madness, even to hint the truth to her.
The day slips away, uneventfully; and night comes on. I have determined
to repeat my experiment of last night. I cannot say that it is wisdom;
yet my mind is made up. Still, however, I have taken precautions; for I
have driven stout nails in at the back of each of the three bolts, that
secure the door, opening from the study into the gardens. This will, at
least, prevent a recurrence of the danger I ran last night.
From ten to about two-thirty, I watch; but nothing occurs; and,
finally, I stumble off to bed, where I am soon asleep.
THE LUMINOUS SPECK
I awake suddenly. It is still dark. I turn over, once or twice, in my
endeavors to sleep again; but I cannot sleep. My head is aching,
slightly; and, by turns I am hot and cold. In a little, I give up the
attempt, and stretch out my hand, for the matches. I will light my
candle, and read, awhile; perhaps, I shall be able to sleep, after a
time. For a few moments, I grope; then my hand touches the box; but, as
I open it, I am startled, to see a phosphorescent speck of fire, shining
amid the darkness. I put out my other hand, and touch it. It is on my
wrist. With a feeling of vague alarm, I strike a light, hurriedly, and
look; but can see nothing, save a tiny scratch.
'Fancy!' I mutter, with a half sigh of relief. Then the match burns my
finger, and I drop it, quickly. As I fumble for another, the thing
shines out again. I know, now, that it is no fancy. This time, I light
the candle, and examine the place, more closely. There is a slight,
greenish discoloration 'round the scratch. I am puzzled and worried.
Then a thought comes to me. I remember the morning after the Thing
appeared. I remember that the dog licked my hand. It was this one, with
the scratch on it; though I have not been even conscious of the
abasement, until now. A horrible fear has come to me. It creeps into my
brain--the dog's wound, shines at night. With a dazed feeling, I sit
down on the side of the bed, and try to think; but cannot. My brain
seems numbed with the sheer horror of this new fear.
Time moves on, unheeded. Once, I rouse up, and try to persuade myself
that I am mistaken; but it is no use. In my heart, I have no doubt.
Hour after hour, I sit in the darkness and silence, and shiver,
hopelessly....
The day has come and gone, and it is night again.
This morning, early, I shot the dog, and buried it, away among the
bushes. My sister is startled and frightened; but I am desperate.
Besides, it is better so. The foul growth had almost hidden its left
side. And I--the place on my wrist has enlarged, perceptibly. Several
times, I have caught myself muttering prayers--little things learnt as a
child. God, Almighty God, help me! I shall go mad.
Six days, and I have eaten nothing. It is night. I am sitting in my
chair. Ah, God! I wonder have any ever felt the horror of life that I
have come to know? I am swathed in terror. I feel ever the burning of
this dread growth. It has covered all my right arm and side, and is
beginning to creep up my neck. Tomorrow, it will eat into my face. I
shall become a terrible mass of living corruption. There is no escape.
Yet, a thought has come to me, born of a sight of the gun-rack, on the
other side of the room. I have looked again--with the strangest of
feelings. The thought grows upon me. God, Thou knowest, Thou must know,
that death is better, aye, better a thousand times than This. This!
Jesus, forgive me, but I cannot live, cannot, cannot! I dare not! I am
beyond all help--there is nothing else left. It will, at least, spare
me that final horror....
I think I must have been dozing. I am very weak, and oh! so miserable,
so miserable and tired--tired. The rustle of the paper, tries my brain.
My hearing seems preternaturally sharp. I will sit awhile and think....
"Hush! I hear something, down--down in the cellars. It is a creaking
sound. My God, it is the opening of the great, oak trap. What can be
doing that? The scratching of my pen deafens me ... I must listen....
There are steps on the stairs; strange padding steps, that come up and
nearer.... Jesus, be merciful to me, an old man. There is something
fumbling at the door-handle. O God, help me now! Jesus--The door is
opening--slowly. Somethi--"
That is all[16]
I put down the Manuscript, and glanced across at Tonnison: he was
sitting, staring out into the dark. I waited a minute; then I spoke.
"Well?" I said.
He turned, slowly, and looked at me. His thoughts seemed to have gone
out of him into a great distance.
"Was he mad?" I asked, and indicated the MS., with a half nod.
Tonnison stared at me, unseeingly, a moment; then, his wits came back to
him, and, suddenly, he comprehended my question.
"No!" he said.
I opened my lips, to offer a contradictory opinion; for my sense of the
saneness of things, would not allow me to take the story literally; then
I shut them again, without saying anything. Somehow, the certainty in
Tonnison's voice affected my doubts. I felt, all at once, less assured;
though I was by no means convinced as yet.
After a few moments' silence, Tonnison rose, stiffly, and began to
undress. He seemed disinclined to talk; so I said nothing; but followed
his example. I was weary; though still full of the story I had
Somehow, as I rolled into my blankets, there crept into my mind a memory
of the old gardens, as we had seen them. I remembered the odd fear that
the place had conjured up in our hearts; and it grew upon me, with
conviction, that Tonnison was right.
It was very late when we rose--nearly midday; for the greater part of
the night had been spent in reading the MS.
Tonnison was grumpy, and I felt out of sorts. It was a somewhat dismal
day, and there was a touch of chilliness in the air. There was no
mention of going out fishing on either of our parts. We got dinner, and,
after that, just sat and smoked in silence.
Presently, Tonnison asked for the Manuscript: I handed it to him, and he
spent most of the afternoon in reading it through by himself.
It was while he was thus employed, that a thought came to me:--
"What do you say to having another look at--?" I nodded my head down
Tonnison looked up. "Nothing!" he said, abruptly; and, somehow, I was
less annoyed, than relieved, at his answer.
After that, I left him alone.
A little before teatime, he looked up at me, curiously.
"Sorry, old chap, if I was a bit short with you just now;" (just now,
indeed! he had not spoken for the last three hours) "but I would not go
there again," and he indicated with his head, "for anything that you
could offer me. Ugh!" and he put down that history of a man's terror and
hope and despair.
The next morning, we rose early, and went for our accustomed swim: we
had partly shaken off the depression of the previous day; and so, took
our rods when we had finished breakfast, and spent the day at our
favorite sport.
After that day, we enjoyed our holiday to the utmost; though both of us
looked forward to the time when our driver should come; for we were
tremendously anxious to inquire of him, and through him among the people
of the tiny hamlet, whether any of them could give us information about
that strange garden, lying away by itself in the heart of an almost
unknown tract of country.
At last, the day came, on which we expected the driver to come across
for us. He arrived early, while we were still abed; and, the first thing
we knew, he was at the opening of the tent, inquiring whether we had had
good sport. We replied in the affirmative; and then, both together,
almost in the same breath, we asked the question that was uppermost in
our minds:--Did he know anything about an old garden, and a great pit,
and a lake, situated some miles away, down the river; also, had he ever
heard of a great house thereabouts?
No, he did not, and had not; yet, stay, he had heard a rumor, once upon
a time, of a great, old house standing alone out in the wilderness; but,
if he remembered rightly it was a place given over to the fairies; or,
if that had not been so, he was certain that there had been something
"quare" about it; and, anyway, he had heard nothing of it for a very
long while--not since he was quite a gossoon. No, he could not remember
anything particular about it; indeed, he did not know he remembered
anything "at all, at all" until we questioned him.
"Look here," said Tonnison, finding that this was about all that he
could tell us, "just take a walk 'round the village, while we dress, and
find out something, if you can."
With a nondescript salute, the man departed on his errand; while we made
haste to get into our clothes; after which, we began to prepare
We were just sitting down to it, when he returned.
"It's all in bed the lazy divvils is, sor," he said, with a repetition
of the salute, and an appreciative eye to the good things spread out on
our provision chest, which we utilized as a table.
"Oh, well, sit down," replied my friend, "and have something to eat with
us." Which the man did without delay.
After breakfast, Tonnison sent him off again on the same errand, while
we sat and smoked. He was away some three-quarters of an hour, and, when
he returned, it was evident that he had found out something. It appeared
that he had got into conversation with an ancient man of the village,
who, probably, knew more--though it was little enough--of the strange
house, than any other person living.
The substance of this knowledge was, that, in the "ancient man's"
youth--and goodness knows how long back that was--there had stood a
great house in the center of the gardens, where now was left only that
fragment of ruin. This house had been empty for a great while; years
before his--the ancient man's--birth. It was a place shunned by the
people of the village, as it had been shunned by their fathers before
them. There were many things said about it, and all were of evil. No one
ever went near it, either by day or night. In the village it was a
synonym of all that is unholy and dreadful.
And then, one day, a man, a stranger, had ridden through the village,
and turned off down the river, in the direction of the House, as it was
always termed by the villagers. Some hours afterward, he had ridden
back, taking the track by which he had come, toward Ardrahan. Then, for
three months or so, nothing was heard. At the end of that time, he
reappeared; but now, he was accompanied by an elderly woman, and a large
number of donkeys, laden with various articles. They had passed through
the village without stopping, and gone straight down the bank of the
river, in the direction of the House.
Since that time, no one, save the man whom they had chartered to bring
over monthly supplies of necessaries from Ardrahan, had ever seen either
of them: and him, none had ever induced to talk; evidently, he had been
well paid for his trouble.
The years had moved onward, uneventfully enough, in that little hamlet;
the man making his monthly journeys, regularly.
One day, he had appeared as usual on his customary errand. He had passed
through the village without exchanging more than a surly nod with the
inhabitants and gone on toward the House. Usually, it was evening before
he made the return journey. On this occasion, however, he had reappeared
in the village, a few hours later, in an extraordinary state of
excitement, and with the astounding information, that the House had
disappeared bodily, and that a stupendous pit now yawned in the place
where it had stood.
This news, it appears, so excited the curiosity of the villagers, that
they overcame their fears, and marched _en masse_ to the place. There,
they found everything, just as described by the carrier.
This was all that we could learn. Of the author of the MS., who he was,
and whence he came, we shall never know.
His identity is, as he seems to have desired, buried forever.
That same day, we left the lonely village of Kraighten. We have never
been there since.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I see that enormous pit, surrounded, as it is,
on all sides by wild trees and bushes. And the noise of the water rises
upward, and blends--in my sleep--with other and lower noises; while,
over all, hangs the eternal shroud of spray.
Fierce hunger reigns within my breast,
  I had not dreamt that this whole world,
    Crushed in the hand of God, could yield
Such bitter essence of unrest,
  Such pain as Sorrow now hath hurled
    Out of its dreadful heart, unsealed!
Each sobbing breath is but a cry,
  My heart-strokes knells of agony,
    And my whole brain has but one thought
That nevermore through life shall I
  (Save in the ache of memory)
    Touch hands with thee, who now art naught!
Through the whole void of night I search,
  So dumbly crying out to thee;
    But thou are _not_; and night's vast throne
Becomes an all stupendous church
  With star-bells knelling unto me
    Who in all space am most alone!
An hungered, to the shore I creep,
  Perchance some comfort waits on me
    From the old Sea's eternal heart;
But lo! from all the solemn deep,
  Far voices out of mystery
    Seem questioning why we are apart!
"Where'er I go I am alone
  Who once, through thee, had all the world.
    My breast is one whole raging pain
For that which _was_, and now is flown
  Into the Blank where life is hurled
    Where all is not, nor is again!"
[1] An apparently unmeaning interpolation. I can find no previous
reference in the MS. to this matter. It becomes clearer, however, in the
light of succeeding incidents.--Ed.
[2] Here, the writing becomes undecipherable, owing to the damaged
condition of this part of the MS. Below I print such fragments as are
legible.--Ed.
[3] NOTE.--The severest scrutiny has not enabled me to decipher more of
the damaged portion of the MS. It commences to be legible again with the
chapter entitled "The Noise in the Night."--Ed.
[4] The Recluse uses this as an illustration, evidently in the sense of
the popular conception of a comet.--Ed.
[5] Evidently referring to something set forth in the missing and
mutilated pages. See _Fragments, Chapter 14_--Ed.
[6] No further mention is made of the moon. From what is said here, it
is evident that our satellite had greatly increased its distance from
the earth. Possibly, at a later age it may even have broken loose from
our attraction. I cannot but regret that no light is shed on this
[7] Conceivably, frozen air.--Ed.
[8] See previous footnote. This would explain the snow (?) within the
[9] I am confounded that neither here, nor later on, does the Recluse
make any further mention of the continued north and south movement
(apparent, of course,) of the sun from solstice to solstice.--Ed.
[10] At this time the sound-carrying atmosphere must have been either
incredibly attenuated, or--more probably--nonexistent. In the light of
this, it cannot be supposed that these, or any other, noises would have
been apparent to living ears--to hearing, as we, in the material body,
understand that sense.--Ed.
[11] I can only suppose that the time of the earth's yearly journey had
ceased to bear its present _relative_ proportion to the period of the
sun's rotation.--Ed.
[12] A careful reading of the MS. suggests that, either the sun is
traveling on an orbit of great eccentricity, or else that it was
approaching the green star on a lessening orbit. And at this moment, I
conceive it to be finally torn directly from its oblique course, by the
gravitational pull of the immense star.--Ed.
[13] It will be noticed here that the earth was "_slowly_ traversing the
tremendous face of the dead sun." No explanation is given of this, and
we must conclude, either that the speed of time had slowed, or else that
the earth was actually progressing on its orbit at a rate, slow, when
measured by existing standards. A careful study of the MS. however,
leads me to conclude that the speed of time had been steadily decreasing
for a very considerable period.--Ed.
[14] See _first footnote, Chapter 18_.
[15] Without doubt, the flame-edged mass of the Dead Central Sun, seen
from another dimension.--Ed.
[16] NOTE.--From the unfinished word, it is possible, on the MS., to
trace a faint line of ink, which suggests that the pen has trailed away
over the paper; possibly, through fright and weakness.--Ed.
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE WARRIORS
BY ANNA ROBERTSON BROWN LINDSAY PH.D.
WHAT IS WORTH WHILE?
CULTURE AND REFORM
THE VICTORY OF OUR FAITH
This work was begun nearly five years ago. Since then, the whole face of
American history has changed. We have had the Spanish-American War, and
the opening-up of our new possessions. In this period of time Gladstone,
Li Hung Chang, and Queen Victoria have died; there has also occurred the
assassination of the Empress of Austria and of President McKinley. There
has been the Chinese persecution, the destruction of Galveston by storm
and of Martinique by volcanic action. Wireless telegraphy has been
discovered, and the source of the spread of certain fevers. In this time
have been carried on gigantic engineering undertakings,--the
Trans-Siberian Railroad, the Trans-Balkan Railroad, the rebuilding of
New York. We have also looked upon the consolidation of vast forces of
steel, iron, sugar, shipping, and other trusts. We have witnessed an
extraordinary growth of universities, libraries, and higher
schools,--the widespread increase of commerce, the prosperity of
business, the rise in the price of food, and the great coal-strike of
1902. Perhaps never before in the world's history have there been
crowded into five years such dramatic occurrences on the world-stage,
nor such large opportunities for the individual man or woman.
It is interesting for me to notice that since the first outlines of the
book were written, many things then set down as prophecy have now been
fulfilled. It was my purpose, in projecting the essays at what seemed
to me to be the dawn of a great religious era, to help the onward
movement by a few earnest words. History itself has swept the world far
beyond one's dreams, and in completing them, I only ask that they may
stand a further witness to the overwhelming majesty and influence of the
Christian faith.
ANNA ROBERTSON BROWN LINDSAY
_Philadelphia, November_ 1_st_, 1902
TABLE OF CONTENTS
  I. CHORDS OF AWAKENING:
     THE HIGHER CONQUEST
 II. PRELUDE:
     THE CALL OF JESUS
III. PROCESSIONAL:
     THE CHURCH OF GOD
 IV. THE WORLD-MARCH:
     OF KINGS
     OF PRELATES AND EVANGELISTS
     OF SAGES
     OF TRADERS
     OF WORKERS
I. CHORDS OF AWAKENING: THE HIGHER CONQUEST
     [CUTLER]
     _The Son of God goes forth to war,
           A kingly crown to gain:
     His blood-red banner streams afar:
           Who follows in His train?
     Who best can drink his cup of woe,
           Triumphant over pain;
     Who patient bears his cross below,
           He follows in His train!
     They met the tyrant's brandished steel,
           The lions gory mane;
     They bowed their necks the death to feel:
           Who follows in their train?
     They climbed the steep ascent of heaven
           Through peril, toil, and pain:
     O God, to us may grace be given
           To follow in their train!_
     REGINALD HEBER
The universe is not awry. Fate and man are not altogether at odds. Yet
there is a perpetual combat going on between man and nature, and between
the power of character and the tyranny of circumstance, death, and sin.
The great soul is tossed into the midst of the strife, the longing, and
the aspirations of the world. He rises Victor who is triumphant in some
great experience of the race.
The first energy is combative: the Warrior is the primitive hero. There
are natures to whom mere combat is a joy. Strife is the atmosphere in
which they find their finest physical and spiritual development. In the
early times, there must have been those who stood apart from their
tribesmen in contests of pure athletic skill,--in running, jumping,
leaping, wrestling, in laying on thew and thigh with arm, hand, and
curled fist in sheer delight of action, and of the display of strength.
As foes arose, these athletes of the tribe or clan would be the first to
rush forth to slay the wild beast, to brave the sea and storm, or to
wreak vengeance on assailing tribes. Their valor was their insignia.
Their prowess ranked them. Their exultation was in their freedom
and strength.
Such men did not ask a life of ease. Like Tortulf the Forester, they
learned "how to strike the foe, to sleep on the bare ground, to bear
hunger and toil, summer's heat and winter's frost,--how to fear nothing
but ill-fame." They courted danger, and asked only to stand as Victors
at the last.
Hence we read of old-world warriors,--of Gog and Magog and the Kings of
Bashan; of the sons of Anak; of Hercules, with his lion-skin and club;
of Beowulf, who, dragging the sea-monster from her lair, plunged beneath
the drift of sea-foam and the flame of dragon-breath, and met the clutch
of dragon-teeth. We read of Turpin, Oliver, and Roland,--the
sweepers-off of twenty heads at a single blow; of Arthur, who slew
Ritho, whose mantle was furred with the beards of kings; of Theodoric
and Charlemagne, and of Richard of the Lion-heart.
There are also Victors in the great Quests of the world,--the Argonauts,
Helena in search of the Holy Rood, the Knights of the Holy Grail, the
Pilgrim Fathers. There are the Victors in the intellectual wrestlings of
the world,--the thinkers, poets, sages; the Victors in great sorrows,
who conquer the savage pain of heart and desolation of spirit which
arise from heroic human grief,--Oedipus and Antigone, Iphigenia,
Perseus, Prometheus, King Lear, Samson Agonistes, Job, and David in his
penitential psalm. And there are the Victors in the yet deeper strivings
of the soul--in its inner battles and spiritual conquests--Milton's
Adam, Paracelsus, Dante, the soul in _The Palace of Art_, Abt Vogler,
Isaiah, Teufelsdroeckh, Paul. To read of such men and women is to be
thrilled by the Titanic possibilities of the soul of man!
The world has come into other and greater battle-days. This is an era of
great spiritual conflicts, and of great triumphs. To-day faith calls the
soul of man to arms. It is a clarion to awake, to put on strength, and
to go forth to Holy War. If there were no fighting work in the Christian
life, much of the intense energy and interest of the race would be
unaroused. There are apathetic natures who do not want to undertake the
difficult,--sluggish souls who would rather not stir from their present
position. And there are cowards who run to cover. But there is
in all strong natures the primitive combative instinct,--the
let-us-see-which-is-the-stronger, which delights in contests, which is
undismayed by opposition, and which grows firmer through the warfare
of the soul.
It is this phase of the Christian life which is most needed to-day,--the
warrior-spirit, the all-conquering soul. In entering the Christian life,
one must put out of his heart the expectation that it is to be an easy
life, or one removed from toil and danger. It is preeminently the
adventurous life of the world,--that in which the most happens, as well
as that in which the spiritual possibilities are the greatest. It is a
life full of splendor, of excitement, of trial, of tests of courage and
endurance, and is meant to appeal to those who are the very bravest
and the best.
There are two forms of conquest to which the soul of man is called--the
inner and the outer. The inner is the conquest of the evil within his
own nature; the outer is the struggle against the evil forces of the
world--the constructive task of building up, under warring conditions,
the spiritual kingdom of God.
The real world is far more subtle than we as yet understand. When we
dive down into the deep, sky and air and houses disappear. We enter a
new world--the under-world of water, and things that glide and swim; of
sea-grasses and currents; of flowing waves that lap about the body with
a cool chill; of palpitating color, that, at great depths, becomes a
sort of darkness; of sea-beds of shell and sand, and bits of scattered
wreckage; of ooze and tangled sea-plants, dusky shapes, and
fan-like fins.
Or if we look upward we reach an over-world, where moons and suns are
circling in the heights. What draws them together? What keeps a subtle
distance between them, which they never cross? How do they, age after
age, run a predestined course? We drop a stone. What binds it earthward?
Under our feet run magnetic currents that flow from pole to pole. In the
clouds above, there are electric vibrations which cannot be described
in exact terms.
Thus also, in spiritual experiences, there are currents which we cannot
measure or describe. The psychic world is the final world, though its
towers and pinnacles no eye hath seen. If we try to shut out for an hour
the outer world, and descend into the soul-world of the life of man, we
find ourselves in a new environment, and with an outlook over new forms
and powers. We find ourselves in a world of images and attractions, of
impulses and desires, of instincts and attainments. It is not only a
world of separate and individual souls, but each soul is as a thousand;
for within each man there is an inner host contending for mastery, and
everywhere is the uproar of battle and of spiritual strife.
What is the Self that abides in each man? Is it not the consciousness of
existence, together with a consciousness of the power of choice? Our
individuality lies in the fact that we can decide, choose, and rule
among the various contestant impulses of our souls. Herein is the
possibility of victory and also the possibility of defeat.
Looking inward, we find that Self began when man began. We inherit our
dispositions from Adam, as well as from our parents and a long ancestral
line. When the first men and women were created, forces were set in
action which have resulted in this Me that to-day thinks and wills and
loves. Heredity includes savagery and culture, health and disease,
empire and serfdom, hope and despair. Each man can say: "In me rise
impulses that ran riot in the veins of Anak, that belonged to Libyan
slaves and to the Ptolemaic line. I am Aryan and Semite, Roman and
Teuton: alike I have known the galley and the palm-set court of kings.
Under a thousand shifting generations, there was rising the combination
that I to-day am. In me culminates, for my life's day, human history
Individuality is thus a unique selection and arrangement of what has
been, touched with something--a degree of life--that has not been
before. To rise above heredity is to rise above the downward drag of all
the years. It is not escaping the special sin of one ancestor, but the
sin of all ancestors. _This is the first problem that is set before each
man: to rise above his race--to be the culmination of virtue until now_.
_The second problem is not greater, but different. It is to mould
environment to spiritual uses_. The conditions of this struggle and the
opportunities of this conquest are the content of this book. It is meant
to deal with the more heroic aspects of the Christian life.
What is environment? Is it the material horizon that bounds us? If so,
where does it end? Our first environment is a crib, a room, our mother's
eyes. Sensations of hunger, heat, and motion beat upon the baby-brain;
there is a vague murmur of sound in the baby-ears. Yet it is this babe
who, in after days, has all the universe for his soul's demesne! His
environment stretches out to towns and rivers, shore and sea. Looking
upward into space, he can view a star whose distance is a thousand times
ten thousand miles. Beyond the path of his feet or of his sight, there
is the path of thought, which leads him into new countries, new climes,
new years! His meditations are upon ages gone; his work competes with
that of the dead. In his reveries and imaginings, he can transport
himself anywhither, and can commune with any friend or god. Hence to be
master of one's environment is really to have the universe within
one's grasp.
We are too much afraid of customs and traditions. We are put into our
times, not that the times may mould us, but that we may mould the times!
Ways? Customs? They exist to be changed! The _tempora_ and the _mores_
should be plastic to our touch. The times are never level with our best.
Our souls are higher than the _Zeitgeist_. Why should we cringe before
an inferior essence or command? But society seals our lips: we walk
about with frozen tongues.
Each asks himself at some time: How shall I become one of the Victors of
the race? Is it in me? Mankind is weighted by every previous sin. Where
am I free? How am I free? Can I do as I choose? Or are there bourns of
conduct beyond which I can never go? Am I foreordained to sin? Do the
stars in their courses lay limitations on free will?
There are in man two forces working: a human longing after God, and, in
response, God inly working in the soul. The Victor is he who, in his own
life, unites these two things: a great longing after the god-like, which
makes him yearn for virtue,--and the divine power within him, through
which and by which he is triumphant over time and death and sin.
Whatever our trials, sorrows, or temptations, joy and courage are ever
meant to be in the ascendant; life, however it may break in storms upon
us, is not meant to beat down our souls. Unless we are triumphant, we
are not wholly useful or well trained. Will and heart together work
for victory.
As there flashes and thrills through all nature a subtle electric
vibration which is the supreme form of physical energy, so there runs
through the history of mankind a current of spiritual inspiration and
power. To possess this magnetism of soul, this heroism of life, this
flame-like flower of character, is to be Victor in the great combats of
the race. It is the spirit of courage, energy, and love. Nothing is too
hard for it, nothing too distasteful, nothing too insignificant. Through
all the course of duty it spurs one to do one's best. Its essence is to
overcome. This is the indwelling Holy Spirit, wherein is freedom, power,
and rest. To its final triumph all things are accessory. To joy, all
powers converge.
II. PRELUDE: THE CALL OF JESUS
     [VOX DILECTI]
     _I heard the voice of Jesus say
       Come unto Me and rest;
     Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
       Thy head upon My breast.
     I came to Jesus as I was,
       Weary and worn and sad;
     I found in Him a resting-place,
       And He has made me glad._
     _I heard the voice of Jesus say
       Behold I freely give
     The living water; thirsty one,
       Stoop down and drink, and live.
     I came to Jesus, and I drank
       Of that life-giving stream;
     My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,
       And now I live in Him._
     _I heard the voice of Jesus say
       I am this dark world's light;
     Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise,
       And all thy day be bright.
     I looked to Jesus, and I found
       In Him my star, my sun;
     And in that light of life I'll walk,
       Till travelling days are done._
     HORATIUS BONAR
It is a world of voices in which we live. We are daily visited by
appeals which are ministering to our growth and progress, or which are
tending to our spiritual downfall. There are the voices of nature, in
sky, and sea, and storm; the voices of childhood and of early youth; the
voices of playfellows and companions,--voices long stilled, it may be,
in death; the voices of lover and beloved; the voices of ambition, of
sorrow, of aspiration, and of joy.
But among all these many voices, there is one which is most inspiring
and supreme. When the _Vorspiel_ to _Parsifal_ breaks upon the ear it is
as if all other music were inadequate and incomplete--as if a voice
called from the confines of eternity, in the infinite spaces where no
time is, and rolled onward to the far-off ages when time shall be no
more. Even so, high and clear above the voices of the world, deeper and
tenderer than any other word or tone, comes the voice of Jesus to the
soul of man.
Look, if you will, upon the World of Souls, many-tiered and vast,
stretching from day's end to day's end,--a world of hunger and of anger,
of toiling and of striving, of clamor and of triumph,--a dim, upheaving
mass, which from century to century wakes, and breathes, and sleeps
again! Years roll on, tides flow, but there is no cessation of the march
of years, and no whisper of a natural change. Is it not a strange thing
that one voice, and only one, should have really won the hearing of the
race? What is this voice of Jesus, so enduring, matchless, and supreme?
What does it promise, for the help or hope of man?
There are some who say that Jesus has held the attention and allegiance
of the race by an appeal to the religious instinct; that all men
naturally seek God, and long to know Him. But if we try to define the
religious instinct, we shall find it a hard task. What might be called a
religious instinct leads to human sacrifice upon the Aztec altar;
directs the Hindu to cast the new-born child in the stream, the friend
to sacrifice his best friend to a pagan deity.
There are others who say that Christ appeals to the gentler instincts of
man,--to his unselfishness, his meekness and compassion. Yet some of the
most admirable Christians have been ambitious and aggressive. Others
say, He appeals to our need of help. But self-reliance is a Christian
trait. Others say, He appeals to our sense of sin--our need of pardon.
But many a Christian goes through life like a happy child, scarcely
conscious at any time of deep guilt, and never overwhelmed by intense
conviction or despair.
The truth seems to be that Christ appeals to our whole selves. He calls
us by an attraction which is unique. In the universe there exists a
force which we must recognize--though we do not yet in the least
understand it--which is gradually drawing the race Christward. The law
of spiritual gravitation is, that by all the changing impulses of our
nature we are drawn upward unto Him. Spohr's lovely anthem voices this
cry of the soul:
     "_As pants the hart for cooling streams,
       When heated in the chase,
     So longs my soul, O God, for Thee,
       And Thy refreshing grace.
     "For Thee, my God, the living God,
       My thirsty soul doth pine;
     Oh! when shall I behold Thy face,
       Thou Majesty divine_?"
1. Jesus calls us by the mystery of life. There are hours of silence and
meditation when the great thought _I am_ beats in upon the soul. But
what am I? Whence came I? A heap of atoms in some strange human
semblance--is that all? And so many other heaps of atoms have already
been, and passed away! Blown hither and thither--where? The universe
reels with change. Star-dust and earth-dust are alike in ceaseless
whirl. Little it profits to build the spire, the sea-wall, the dome, the
bridge, the myriad-roofed town. A new era shall dawn upon them, and they
shall fall away.
Not only that, but each man who lives to-day has less possible material
dominion than he had who preceded him. Only so many square feet of
earth, and now there are more to walk upon them! The ground we tread was
once trodden by the feet of those long dead. I am taking up their room,
and in due time I must myself depart, that there may be footway for
those who are to come after me. Only the under-sod is really mine--the
little earth-barrow to which I go.
There is no question more baffling than this simple, ever-recurring one:
What am I? If I should decide what I am to-day, I discover that
yesterday I was quite a different person. To-day I may be six feet in
height, and climb the Alps; yesterday I lay helpless in swaddling
clothes. Yesterday I was a thing of laughter and frolic; to-day I am
grave, and brush away tears. As a babe, was I still I? What is Myself?
When did I come to Myself? How far can I extend Myself? My feet are
here, but in a moment my spirit can flee to Xanadu and Zanzibar. There
is no spot in the universe where I may not go. Where, then, are the
limits of Myself?
Personality is never for a single moment fixed: it is as changing and
evanescent as a cloud. We are whirlwind spirits, swept through time and
space, bearing within our souls hopes, fears, joys, sorrows, which are
never twice the same. Every aspect of the universe leaves new
impressions on us, and our wills, in their world-sweep, daily desire
different things.
Incompleteness lies on life--restlessness is in the heart. True love has
no final habitation on earth; there is no abiding-place for our deepest
affection, our most tender yearning. It is curious how deeply one may
love, and yet feel that there is something more. In all our journeys,
skyward and sunward, we never reach the End of All.
Over against this vague and changing self, there stands out the figure
of the changeless Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. In
Him we find the environment of all our lives, and the sum of all
2. Jesus calls us by our earth-born cares. In Mendelssohn's _Elijah_,
there is a voice which sings: "O rest in the Lord!" This angel's message
is the voice of Jesus to the human race.
The voice of Jesus calls us to awake to toil. We sometimes forget this,
and imagine that if we follow Jesus, we shall never have anything to do.
Christ does not still the machinery of the world, nor shut the mine, nor
take away the sowing and the reaping. The call of Jesus is not a call to
rest from work, but to rest in work. The rest we receive is that of
sympathy, of inspiration, of efficiency. Christ really increases the
toil-capacity of man. Man can do more work, harder work, and always
better work, because of the faith that is in him. What makes the
confusion and fatigue of life is, that men are everywhere scrambling
for themselves, and trying to manage their own undertakings, instead of
falling into harmony with God, and through Him, with all that is. What
wears the soul out is not the work of life itself--it is its drudgery,
its monotony, its blind vagueness, its apparent purposelessness. We do
not wish to scatter our lives and spend our years in nothingness.
Christ comes into the world and says: Over-fatigue is abnormal. There
is not enough work in the universe to tire every one all out. There is
just enough for each one to do happily, and to do well. I am come as the
great industrial organizer. My mission is not to take away toil, but to
redistribute it. My industrial plan is the largest of history--it is
also the most simple. I look down over the world, as a master upon his
men. My work is not to found an earthly kingdom, as some have thought;
it is not primarily to set up industrial establishments, or syndicates,
or ways of transport and trade. My work is to build up in the universe a
spiritual kingdom of energy, power, and progress. To this kingdom all
material things are accessory. In My hand are all abilities, as well as
all knowledge. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without My notice. Not
a lily blooms without My delight. Not a brick is laid, not a stone is
set, not an axe is swung, except beneath My eye. I provide for My own.
To each man I assign his work, his task. If he takes upon him only what
I give him to do, he will never be under-paid, or over-tired.
Hence the first step towards an industrial millennium is to arise and do
what Jesus bids. Heaven is heaven because no one is unruly there, or
idle, or lazy, or vicious, or morose. Each soul is at true and happy
work. Each energy is absorbed; each hour is alive with interest, and
there are no oppressive thoughts or ways.
If each heart and soul responded to the call of Jesus, there would be a
new heaven and a new earth--a Utopia such as More never dreamed of, nor
Plato, nor Bellamy, nor Campanella in his _City of the Sun_. Each hand
would be at its own work; each eye would be upon its own task; each foot
would be in the right path. All the fear, the weariness, the squalor,
and the unrest of life would be done away. The life of each man would be
a life of contentment, and of economic advance.
3. Jesus calls us by the scourging of our sins. Flagellation is not of
the body--it is of the soul. Remorse is as a scorpion-whip, and memory
beats us with many stripes. The first sin that besets us is
forgetfulness of God. Apathy creeps over the spirit, and sloth winds
itself about our deeds. Nothing is more pathetic than the decline of the
merely forgetful soul. "Be sleepless in the things of the spirit," says
Pythagoras, "for sleep in them is akin to death."
Sin lifts bars against success: the root of failure lies in irreligion.
Pride, conceit, disobedience, malice, evil-speaking, covetousness,
idolatry, vice, oppression, injustice, and lack of truth and honor fight
more strongly against one's career than any other foe. No sin is without
its lash; no experience of evil but has its rebound. To expect a higher
moral insight in middle age because of a larger experience of sin in
youth, is as reasonable as to look for sanity of judgment in middle age
because in youth a man had fits!
Looking at ourselves in a mirror, do we not sometimes think how we would
fashion ourselves if we could create a new self, in the image of some
ideal which is before us? Would we not make ourselves wholly beautiful
if we could make ourselves?
Even so, looking out upon our own spirits, do we not some day rouse to
the distortion and deformity of sin? Do we wish to retain these
grimacing phases of ourselves? Do we not yearn eagerly for the dignity
and beauty of high virtue? Do we not long for the graces and perfections
which make up a radiant and happy life? If we could be born again, would
we not be born a more spiritual being?
It is to this new birth that Jesus calls our souls. All around the babe,
hid in its mother's womb, there lies a world of which it has neither
sight nor knowledge. The fact that the babe is ignorant does not change
the fact that the world is there. So about our souls there lies the
invisible world of God, which, until born of the Spirit, we do not see
or understand. It is a world in which God is everywhere; in which there
is no First Cause, except God; in which there is no will, except the
will of God; in which there is no true and perfect love, except from
God; no truth, except revealed by God; no power, except from Him.
Conversion is the outlook over a world which is arranged, not for our
own glory, but for the good of God's creatures; in which what we do is
necessary, fundamental, permanent--not because we ourselves have done it
well, nor, in truth, because we have done it at all--but because what we
have done is a part of the universe which God is building. We change
from a self-centre to a God-centre; from the thought of whether the
world applauds to whether God approves; from the thought of keeping our
own life to the thought of preserving our own integrity; from isolation
from all other souls to a sympathy with them, an understanding of their
needs, and a desire to help their lives. It is a turning from a delight
in sin, or an indifference to sin, or merely a moral aversion to it, to
a deep-rooted hatred of every thought and act of sin, to penitence, and
to an earnest desire to pattern after God.
4. Jesus calls us by our sorrows, Jesus calls us by our dreams. He
thrills us by each high aim that life inspires. His voice is one of
understanding, of tenderness, of human appeal. How could we love Jesus
if He did not sympathize with our ideals? But here is a Divine One in
whose sight we are not visionary; who lovingly guards our least hope;
who welcomes our faintest spiritual insight; who takes an interest in
our social plans, and points out to us the great kingdom that is to be.
Christ lays hold of the divine that is in us, and will not let us go.
5. Jesus calls us by our latent gifts and powers. Which of us has ever
exhausted his possibilities? Which of us is all that he might be?
It is an impressive thought, that nothing in the universe ever gets used
up. It changes form, motion, semblance,--but the force, the energy,
neither wastes nor dies away. Air--it is as fresh as the air that blew
over the Pharaohs. Sun--it is as undimmed as the sun that looked down on
the completion of Cheops. Earth--it is as unworn as the earth that was
trodden by the cavemen.
No generation can ever bequeath to us a single new material atom. The
race is ever in old clothes. Nor can we hand down to others one atom
which was not long ere we were born. Yet the vitality of the universe is
being constantly increased, and this increase is also permanent. God has
a great deal more to work with now than a thousand years ago.
For not all energy is material. With each birth there comes a new force
into the world, and its influence never dies. The body is born of ages
past, of the material stores of centuries; but the soul, in its living,
thinking, working power, is a new phase of energy added to the energy
of the race.
This fact confers on each individual man a strange impressiveness and
power. It gives a new significance to the fact that I am. I am something
different from what has been, or ever shall be. In the great whirling
myriads, I am distinguished and apart. I am an appreciable factor in
universal development and a being of elemental power. By every true
thought of mine the race becomes wiser. By every right deed, its
inheritance of tradition is uplifted; by every high affection, its
horizon of love is enlarged. We can bequeath to others this new
spiritual energy of our lives.
This thought gives us a new zest for life. There is an appetite which is
of the soul. It is this wish for growth, for the development of our
powers, for a larger life for ourselves and for those who shall
come after us.
Is there any one who wishes to stay always where he is to-day?--to be
always what he is this morning? Beyond the hill-top lies our dream. Not
all the voices that call men from place to place are audible ones. We
hear whispers from a far-off leader; we are beckoned by an unseen guide.
Out of ancestry, tradition, talent, and training each departs to
his own way.
What calls is not largeness of place--it is largeness of ideal. To each
of us, thinking of this one and that one who has taken a large part in
the shaping of the world, there comes a feeling: Beside all these I am
in a narrow way! What can I think that shall be worth the consideration
of the race? What can I do that shall be a stepping-stone to progress?
What can I hope that shall unseal other eyes to the universal glory,
comfort others in the universal pain? We say: I do not want to be mewed
up here, while others are out where thrones and empires are sweeping by!
I do not want to parse verbs, add fractions, and mark ledgers, while
others are the poets, the singers, the statesmen, the rulers, and the
wealth-controllers of the world! We wish to step out of the trivial
experience into that which is significant. Each day brings uneasiness of
soul. "Man's unhappiness," says Carlyle, "as I construe it, comes of his
greatness; it is because there is an infinite in him, which with all his
cunning he cannot quite bury under the finite." Says Tennyson:
     "_It is not death for which we pant,
      But life, more life, and fuller, that we want_."
These aspirations are prophetic. Does a clod-hopper dream? We move
toward our desires. The wish for growth is but the call of Jesus to our
souls. We sometimes hear of the "limitations of life." What are they?
Who set them? Man himself, not God. The call of Jesus urges the soul of
man to possibilities which are infinite.
A large life is the fulfilment of God's ideal of our lives--the life
which, from all eternity, He has looked upon as possible for us. Could
any career be grander than the one that God has planned for us? God does
not think petty thoughts: He longs for grandeur for us all.
6. Jesus calls us by the spirit of the times. There is a growing
recognition of the affinity between God and the human soul. Religion has
changed in spirit as well as in form. It used to be considered a tract
in one's experience, and now it is perceived to be all of life--its
impetus, its central moving force, the reason for being, activity,
development, for ethical conduct, and for unselfish and joyous
helpfulness. Religion is more and more perceived to be, not a thing of
feeble sentiment, of restraint, of exaction, of meek subordination and
resignation, but the unfolding of the free human spirit to the
realization of its highest possibilities and its allegiance to that
which is eternal and supreme. The nineteenth century closes with the
thinker who is also a man of meditation and devotion. We offer to Heaven
the incense of aspiration, hope, research, talent, and imagination.
The chief thing toward which we are moving is, I believe, the
Enthronement of the Christ. Christ has always been, in the hearts of the
few, enthroned and enshrined. Even in the dark years of mediaeval
superstition and unrest, there were the cloistered ones who maintained
traditions of faith and did works of mercy, as there were knightly ones
who upheld the ministry of chivalry, and followed, though afar, the
tender shining of the Holy Grail. But now all the signs point to a great
and general recognition of the Christ--Christ to be lifted high on the
hands of the nations, to His throne above the stars!
A new spiritual note is to be heard in modern subjects of study, is
noticeable in all paths of intellectual prestige. History is no more
looked upon as the story of the trophies of warriors, conquerors, and
kings. History, rising out of dim mists, is seen to be the marching and
the countermarching of nations in the throes of progress and of social
change. It is not the story of princes alone, but of peasants as well;
the result of myriads of small, obscure lives; of changing conditions;
of the movements of great economic, psychologic, and spiritual forces.
Looking backward over the moving processional of the nations of the
earth, we may see how, without rest, without pause, through countless
ages, the myriad legions of men have been passing across the scene of
life--passing, and fading away!
   "_All that tread
   The globe are but a handful of the tribes
   That slumber in its bosom_."
Empires have risen, and empires have decayed; dynasties have been
buried, and long lines of kings, wrapping stately robes about them, have
lain down to die. Thrones have been overturned, armies and navies have
been mustered and scattered, land and sea have been peopled and made
desolate, as the thronging tribes and races have lived their little life
and passed away. Babylon and Assyria, India and Arabia, Egypt and
Persia, Rome and Greece,--each of these has had its lands and conquests,
its song and story, its wars and tumults, its wrath and praise. Under
all the tides of conquest and endeavor but one fact shines supreme: the
steady progress of the Cross.
One principle of growth and development is being slowly revealed,--an
approach to symmetry and civic form, which is seen in freedom, justice,
popular education, the rise of masses, the power of public opinion, and
a general regard for life, health, peace, national prosperity, and the
individual weal. The day has passed when men merely lived, slept, ate,
fought; they are now involved in an intricate and progressive
civilization. Sociology, ethics, and politics are newly blazed pathways
for its development, its guidance, and its ideals. We are moving on to
new dreams of patriotism, of statesmanship, and of civil rule.
Literature, instead of being considered as merely an expression of the
primitive experiences of a race in its sagas, glees, ballads, dramas,
and larger works and songs, is more and more revealing itself as an
appeal to the Highest in the supreme moments of life. It is the
unfolding panorama of the concepts of the soul in regard to duty,
conduct, love, and hope. Literature asks: What do I live for? as well
as, How shall I speak forth beauty? How ought the soul of man to act in
an emergency? What is the best solution of the great human problems of
duty, love, and fate? The voices of Dante, Milton, Shakespeare,
Tennyson, and Browning sweep the soul upward to spiritual heights, and
answer some of the deepest questionings of the soul of man. And hence
literature is no longer merely a thing of vocabulary, of phrase, of
rhythm, of assonance, of alliteration, or of metrical and philosophical
form. It is a revelation of the progress of the soul, of its standards,
of its triumphs, its defeats, and its desires. It is the unfolding of
one's intellectual helplessness before the unmoved, calm passing of
years; of one's emotional inadequacy without God for adjudicator. It is
a direct search for God. One finds wrapped within it the mystery,
aspiration, and spiritual passion of the soul.
Science, no longer a dry assembling of facts and figures, is an
increasing revelation of the imagination, the exactness, the
thoroughness, and the great progressive plans of God. Evolution has
become a spiritual formula. The scientist looks out over the earth and
sky and sun and star. Against his little years are meted out vast
prehistoric spans; against his mastery of a few forms of life, stands
Life itself. Back of all, there looms up the great Figure of the
Originator of life, and of the forms of life; the Maker and Ruler of
them all. Each scientific fact helps exegesis and evidence. Each new
aspiration after truth becomes a form of prayer.
Yes, the whole world is being subtly and powerfully drawn to the worship
of the Christ. Never before was there so deep, genuine, and widespread a
Revival of Religion. It has not come heralded with great outcries, with
flame and wind, and revolution and upheaval; it has come as the great
changes that are most permanent come, in stillness and strength.
Throughout the world there is being turned to the service of religion
the highest training, the most intellectual power. Wars are being
wrought for freedom; the Church and the university are joining hands;
the rich and the poor are drawing near together for mutual help and
understanding; industry is growing to be, not only a crude force, brutal
and disregarding, but a high ministry to human needs; the home is
becoming more and more the guardian of faith and the shrine of peace;
business houses are taking upon them a religious significance; commerce
and trade are perceiving ethical duties. Armies are marching in the
name of Jehovah, and a great poet has this one message: "Lest
7. Jesus calls us by the future of the race. Life proceeds to life.
Eternity is what is just before. Immortality is a native concept for the
soul. Beyond this hampered half-existence, the soul demands life,
freedom, growth, and power.
We stand between two worlds. Behind us is the engulfed Past, wherein
generations vanish, as the wake of ships at sea. Before us is the
Future, in the dawn-mist of hovering glory, and surprise. Looking out
over eternity, that billowy expanse, do we not see rising, clear though
shadowy, a vast Permanence, Completion, Realization, in which the soul
of man shall have endless progress and delight? This is the Promise held
out by all the ages, and the future toward which all the thoughts and
dreams of man converge. It is glorious to be a living soul, and to know
that this great race--life is yet to be!
At the threshold of each new century stands Jesus, star-encircled, with
a voice above the ages and a crown above the spheres,--Jesus, saying,
III. PROCESSIONAL: THE CHURCH OF GOD
     [AURELIA]
     _The Church's one foundation
       Is Jesus Christ her Lord;
     She is His new creation
       By water and the Word:
     From heaven He came and sought her
       To be His Holy Bride;
     With His own blood He bought her
       And for her life He died.
     Though with a scornful wonder
       Men see her sore opprest,
     By schisms rent asunder,
       By heresies distrest;
     Yet saints their watch are keeping,
       Their cry goes up, "How long?"
     And soon the night of weeping
       Shall be the morn of song.
     'Mid toil and tribulation,
       And tumult of her war,
     She waits the consummation
       Of peace for evermore;
     Till with the vision glorious
       Her longing eyes are blest,
     And the great Church victorious
       Shall be the Church at rest._
     SAMUEL JOHN STONE
FIRST: RECONSTRUCTION
The subject that is being carefully considered by many thinking men and
women to-day is this: the place and prospects of the Christian Church.
All about us we hear the cry that the Church is declining, and may
eventually pass away; that it does not gain new members in proportion to
its need, nor hold the attention and allegiance of those already
enrolled. Are these things true? If so, how may better things be brought
to pass? To share in the civilization that has come from nineteen
hundred years of the work of the Church, and to be unwilling to lift a
pound's weight of the present burden, in order to pass on to others our
precious heritage, is certainly a selfish and unworthy course. It is
better to ask, What is my work in the upbuilding of the Church? What can
I do to further the Royal Progress of the Church of God?
The root-failure of the organized Church to-day is its failure to share
in the growing life of the world. A growing life is one that is full of
new ideas, new experiences, new emotions, a new outlook over life--that
works in new ways, and that is full of seething and tumultuous energy,
enthusiasm, and hope. If we look out over the colleges, business
enterprises, periodicals, agriculture, manufacturing, and shipping of
the world, we find everywhere one story--growth, impetus, courage,
resources, vigorous and bounding life. Beside these things the average
church services to-day are both stupid and poky. The forces of religion
are neither guided nor wielded well. There is in most churches, however
we may dislike to own the fact, a decrease of interest and proportionate
membership, a waning prestige, a general air of discouragement, and a
tale of baffled efforts and of disappointed hopes.
The Church--and by this word I here mean the organized body of both
clergymen and laymen--is meant to be the supreme spiritual leader of the
world. It is meant to possess vigor, decision, insight, hope, and
intellectual power. But before it can accomplish its high and holy work,
a great reconstruction must begin. To help in this reconstruction, to
aid in vivifying, cooerdinating, and ruling the varied processes of
organized religion, is your work and mine.
1. The Church must rouse to a sense of its noble duties and exalted
powers. We underrate the Church. We are looking elsewhere for our
highest ideals, instead of claiming from the Church that spiritual
guidance and inspiration which should be its right to give. One of the
things that is a monumental astonishment to me, is that when we need
supplication, intercession, prayer for the averting of great personal or
national calamity, we flee to the Church, but we seldom think of the
Church when we need brains!
The Church should lead, and not follow, the great dreams of the world.
In the midst of our new national life we are sending all over the
country for the best-trained help and thought in every department of
government influence and control. Our problems of the day are
preeminently spiritual ones. Colonial control is not a question of
material ascendancy--it is a rule over the minds, hearts, and ideals of
men. Its moral significance is patent. We are called upon, not only to
import provisions, clothing, and household and industrial goods into our
new possessions; we are called upon to develop a higher sense of honor,
truth, honesty, and every-day morality. Scholars, working-men, business
men, farmers, and merchants are being consulted in regard to different
phases of our national advance, and every idea which their insight and
experience furnish is seized upon. But who is consulting the Church in
these concerns, except in reference to mere technical points? Who is
looking to the intellectual, moral, and spiritual standards of the
Church for guidance? We are to-day ruled spiritually, as well as
intellectually, by laymen, and in a way which is quite outside the
organized work of the Church.
2. The Church needs a more business-like organization and way of work.
It needs a more military spirit and discipline. The Church is diffuse
and loosely strung. There are in the United States alone about two
hundred and fifty-six kinds of religious bodies. There is no centralized
interest or work; there is no economic adjustment of funds; there is no
internal agreement as to practical methods. The result is a most
wasteful expenditure of force. Movements are not only duplicated, but
reproduced a hundred times in miniature, in one denomination after
another; special talent is restricted to a narrow field; buildings and
church-plants are multiplied, but lie largely disused; sects and
communities are at loggerheads on unessential points; all this--and the
world is not being saved! The Church fails to see openings for
aggressive work; it fails to seize strategic points; it does not carry a
well-knit local organization, with a husbanding of economic force; it
does not front the world in dead-earnest; it is not proud and honorable
in meeting its local debts; it loses progressive force, from lack of
knowledge as to how to judge men, and train them, and set them to work.
It also lacks greatly in office-force and in supplies. The gospel itself
is without price, but in the nature of things it cannot be proclaimed,
nor church-work efficiently carried on, without financial outlay. There
should be a more adequate equipment for this work. All other enterprises
need, without question, stationery, stenographers, literature for
distribution, office-rooms, office-hours, and a general arrangement
looking toward enlargement and progress. A busy pastor should have an
office-equipment just as much as a business man, and it should be
supported, as a business office is, out of the funds of the business
organization, _i.e._ the local church.
There should be, first of all, a united spirit, and a general
reorganization throughout the whole of evangelical Christendom, not
necessarily destroying denominational lines, with a view to quick
mobilization of energy in any direction most needed. What would a
general do, who, in looking over his troops, should find two hundred and
fifty-six provincial armies, not at ease or at peace with each other,
and yet expected to make war upon a common foe? Shall we not endeavor to
share in some broadly planned, magnificently executed scheme of
world-advance?
The Church has reached a point where a vast constructive work is to be
done. Its scattered parts must be knit into a powerful and aggressive
whole, to turn a solid front upon the evil of the world. The times are
ripe for a successor of Peter the Hermit, of Luther, Knox, Calvin,
Zwingli, Savonarola, Whitefield, Finney, Moody. Whether a great
preacher, theologian, or evangelist, he will certainly be a business
man, a man of vast energy and executive capacity, who shall perform this
miracle of organization of which many dream, and who shall set the
progress of the Church for a full century to come!
This united spirit should prevail, not only through the smaller bodies,
but between the Roman Catholic and Protestant communions. There has been
a distinct division between these two bodies, much mutual suspicion,
jealousy, and antagonism: it is only quite lately that Protestant and
Catholic leaders have been willing to work amicably together for great
common causes.
A new situation has arisen. In our new possessions we are confronted
with a large population who, whatever may be the reason, are
unquestionably not, as a whole, progressive, enlightened, educated, or
highly moral. The problem now is, not for Catholic and Protestant to
waste energy and spiritual strength in contending for mastery over each
other, but for them to unite in changing and bettering the condition of
our island peoples. What is past is past. Our present duty is to bring
peace, industry, intelligence, high ideals, and spiritual living to our
new countrymen. This is a work to fill the hands and heart of both
churches, and perhaps, in a common task, each may learn to understand
and regard the other as those should understand and regard each other
who have one Lord, one hope, one heaven.
3. The Church needs stronger and more gifted leaders. In every business
or intellectual enterprise to-day, there is an effort to place at the
head of each organization the most powerful and resourceful man whose
services can be obtained. Nothing in this age works, or is expected to
work, without the leadership of brains. A primary step, in a
far-reaching ecclesiastical policy, is to endeavor to draw into both
ministry and membership the most active and intellectual class. All
earnest souls can work, but not all can work equally effectively.
Particularly in the ministry, north, south, east, and west, men are
needed who are really _men_. This does not necessarily mean the men with
the longest string of academic degrees, the men who can write the best
poems or make the best speeches on public occasions; it means the
thinking men who are brave, talented, spiritual, and warm-hearted.
In the Report of one of the missionary Boards, I have recently read the
following stirring words. They refer to the work of missionaries in the
far north, one of whom has lately travelled a thousand miles over the
snow in a dog-sled: "He who follows that mining crowd must be more than
the minister, who would do well for towns in the west or elsewhere in
Alaska. He must be a man who, when night overtakes him, will be thankful
if he can find a bunk and a plate in a miner's cabin; he must travel
much, and therefore cannot be cumbered with extra trappings--must dress
as the miners do, and accept their food and fare. He must be no less in
earnest in his search for souls than they in search for gold. He must be
so 'furnished' that, without recourse to books or study-table, he can
minister acceptably to men who under the guise of a miner's garb hide
the social and mental culture of life in Eastern colleges and
professional days."
It is far from that land of frost and snow to the beautiful island of
Porto Rico, washed by tropical seas, through the streets of whose
capital there passes every day the carriage of the Governor, with its
white-covered upholstery and its livery of white. But I add this word:
The missionary sent to Porto Rico, be he Catholic or Protestant, must be
a man who can stand among statesmen and society men and women, as well
as one who can live and work among the humblest folk who lodge in
leaf-thatched huts along the roadside or far on lonely hills.
Representative men of ability, health, culture, and courage are being
chosen to carry on governmental work: it is idle to send provincial men
to the Church. What is locally true of the Church in Porto Rico is
fundamentally true all over the world, at home and abroad. Each
ministerial post to-day requires an imperial man. Not every post
requires the same sort of man, either in regard to general heredity or
education. Men are needed of the Peter-type, of the John-type, of the
Paul-type; it suffices that, they be men of unusual power, and well
fitted to their individual work.
4. The Church needs a better system for the proper placing of men. No
phase of the world's work can be carried on merely and simply because a
man is pious. In every phase of life, there is a constant shifting of
men according to temperament, ability, and general influence and power.
In the Church we must have a quick and decisive recognition of a man's
ability, and he must be set where that talent can work easily and
effectively. Churches are not all alike. There are no two alike. When we
think of it, what a ghoulish business "candidating" is! No scheme for
the right placing of men can be devised which does not place a great
deal of power in the hand of a few leading men. This power may be
abused, but ought not to be, if it were really looked upon as under
divine direction and inspiration. Cannot a great leader be inspired to
the choice of a man, as well as a great author to the choice of a word,
a rhyme? Comparatively few men thoroughly understand how to rate other
men, and to these few men, as in all other great enterprises, must be
given the power and authority to select and adjust. By this I do not
mean that a set of ecclesiastics will alone be adequate. Ecclesiastical
vision, like all other highly specialized vision, is partial, and does
not always see quite straight. There should also be called into play the
business ability and discernment of men of large business interests or
administrative gifts. Sooner or later the various religious
organizations will have to meet, in some better way than any thus far
formulated, this growing need.
5. We need a release of pressure on the abler men. Many a minister
to-day is a sort of community lackey. What other men are frankly too
busy to do, he is supposed to be cheerfully ready to do. The list of odd
jobs which fall to his lot would be ridiculous, were not their influence
upon his life and work so retrogressive and so sad. He lives to serve
others, but this vow of service is greatly imposed upon. If he is to
lead in intellectual and spiritual matters, he must be given fewer
errands to run, the financial burden of his church must be taken
absolutely from his shoulders, he must have a suitable salary, and his
time must be at least as carefully guarded as that of the average man.
Some calls he is bound to obey, at whatever cost of time or
strength,--illness, certain public duties, and real spiritual
needs,--but his life must not be at the mercy of cranks, or of idle
persons' whims.
6. We need a reorganization of preaching traditions. It is a tradition
that a minister must, in general, preach two set sermons every week,
give one informal week-day lecture, and be prepared to deliver, at any
moment, funeral addresses, anniversary speeches, "remarks," or to
perform other utterly impossible intellectual feats. Anyone who writes,
or who speaks in public, knows that the preparation of a half-hour
address which is worth anything requires a great deal of time. It
cannot ordinarily be "tossed off," and help men's souls. Only an
occasional inspiration, the result of a lifetime of thought and
experience, is born in this sudden way. Usually excellence is the result
of long and careful labor. The way to help this would seem to be a
constant interchange of preachers, not only in one denomination, but
among the various denominations, so that a really fine sermon would be
heard by many people, and fewer sermons would require to be written.
This is easily done in a large city or its vicinity. What congregations
need most is not altogether formal sermons, but thoughtful, helpful
talks containing a fresh, uplifting, and spiritual outlook over life,
with a practical bearing on the occasions and duties of life. The work
of both Frederick Robertson and Horace Bushnell has this direct and
Ministers must study more. If they are freed from many tasks now put
upon them, it is not unreasonable to ask that this time be put on more
careful thinking. Too many a minister of to-day is, intellectually,
something of a flibbertigibbet. His sermons do not take hold, because
they have not the roots to take hold with. How many ministers possess,
for instance, a scholarly knowledge of human nature or of the deeper
aspects of redemption? Yet these things he ought to know. There is a
large amount of intensely interesting, though spiritually undigested,
material for a minister in a book like William James's _Varieties of
Religious Experience_.
7. Greater care must be taken of the rural church. Any one interested in
a great ecclesiastical polity must surely recognize the ultimate
possibilities of our rural regions. Here are growing up the leading men
and women of to-morrow. Ideals and inspirations set upon their hearts
will bear fruit a thousand-fold. Hence there should be a definite
arrangement by which a certain portion of the preaching time of the
really able preachers shall be placed each year in some small and remote
place. Several scattered country churches might unite for these
services. Let such a man also make helpful suggestions for neighborhood
social and intellectual life. While he is in the village, let the
country pastor go to town, browse in libraries, art-collections, hear
music, and get a general quickening of interest and inspiration. Let
each compare notes with the other. They will both gain by this
interchange.
8. There is too little recognition of individual talent in the Church.
Too few workers are set at work which they know how to do, and the
untaught rush at tasks which angels fear to touch. We have myriads of
Sabbath-school teachers, but how many men or women really know how to
teach a little child? The man is asked to speak or pray in
prayer-meeting, who cannot possibly do it well, but no notice is taken
of the fact that he thoroughly understands public accounts. A man is
asked to subscribe ten dollars to a church affair, who cannot afford it,
but his spiritual insight might save the impending church quarrel.
People come and go in the churches, and many, I am convinced, drift away
because they are never asked for anything but money for the support and
interest of the Church. In no other sort of organization is this true.
Even in the summer camp or mountain hotel or Atlantic liner, when any
pastime or entertainment is suggested, the first thing to discover is,
What can each one _do_? One, who has the gift of organization and
management, "gets it up"; one sings; one reads or recites; one writes a
bright bit of verse; another smooths out rising jealousies, or bridges,
by a little tact, the abyss of caste. Why do we hide so many pretty
talents under a bushel, when the church-door swings behind us? Why do we
substitute such strange and foolish tasks, particularly for women? What
would leading lawyers and doctors do, I wonder, if they were asked, as
busy women often have been, to spend a precious morning in a church-room
sorting cast-off clothes?
In every church, large or small, there are both men and women who are
talented in a special way; who could bring gifts of training and
experience to bear upon the problems and opportunities of the Church.
Tell me, in prayer or speech-making, formal or social occasion, pastor
or people, do we often bring our very deepest, tenderest, most inspiring
emotional or intellectual life? It is not a whit more spiritual to be
stupid than to be bright. This is what our church-meetings should
be--not a formal and very dull round of prayers and set remarks, more or
less pointless; they ought to be a yielding-up of our heart's best life
9. We need, as a Church, a deeper spiritual life. We need the Power of
the Holy Ghost. In spite of all the sorrow of the world, sorrow both of
a personal nature and that which touches whole communities, there is
only one real burden upon the heart of earnest men and women: it is our
own inadequate representation of Christianity,--the disheartening
difference between what we practise and what we profess. When the Church
of God is in reality a powerful and hard-working body of sincere,
honest, and loving people, the world will soon be saved!
SECOND: ADHERENCE
By the question, Why join the Church?--I do not mean alone, Why add my
name to a church-roll? I mean, Why give myself, my powers, my education,
my love, my loyalty, to advance the progress of the Church?
There is nothing we resent more than a waste of ourselves. To attract
our service, there must be in the Church an inner vitality, a moving
and spiritual fire.
1. The Church embodies the spiritual dreams of the world. Man does not
live by bread alone; he lives by imagination, and by religious powers.
In the Church of God, the spiritual imagination of man reached its
highest field of energy, and has brought forth its most triumphant
works. The great art of the world has centred about the Christian
Church--its architecture and much of its noblest speech. Imagine a world
in which every work which was inspired by the Church, or by the concepts
of religion embodied in it, should be left out. What would we then lack?
We would lack the greatest works of Michelangelo, Raphael, Titian,
Francesca, Botticelli, Murillo; we would not see the cathedrals of
Milan, Strasburg, or Cologne; we would never read the poems of Caedmon,
Milton, or Dante. The hamlet would be without a spire; philanthropy
would be almost unknown; there would be neither night-watch nor
morning-watch of united prayer. We should have no processional of
millions churchward on the Lord's Day, no hymns to stir our souls to joy
and praise, no anthems or oratorios, no ministers, no ecclesiastical
courts and assemblies, no church conventions, no church-schools,
religious societies, nor religious press. All these works and
institutions proclaim the glory of belief, and hand down the religious
traditions and the spiritual aspirations of the generations of men.
Shall we let others share in the mystery and triumph while we stand
apart, silent, unapproving, and alone?
The dreams of the Church are high and holy. There is the dream of
Freedom, of the Freedom of the Soul. It is an inspiring thought this,
the essential democracy of the race. We do not find intellectual
equality of souls. We see each man or woman differently circumstanced,
differently gifted, differently trained. Yet each may say, I am
spiritually free! To me also is given the opportunity of development, of
majesty of character, of high service. The soul is the thrall of none;
nothing can bind it to spiritual serfdom.
Next, there is the dream of Allegiance. Some one has well said: "Wouldst
thou live a great life? Ally thyself with a great cause." Allegiance is
devotion of the whole of ourselves to a leader, a cause. We can no more
go through the world without allying ourselves to something than we can
go through it and live nowhere. If the object of our allegiance be a
high one, if the ideal be a grand one, our lives are in a constant
process of development toward that height, that grandeur. Each act of
faith becomes an impetus to progress. We are daily enriched by the
experience of mere obedience. To obey and follow are acts in the
universal process.
If, on the other hand, we ally ourselves to that which is lower than
ourselves, by the very act we are dragged down. No one can remain upon
even his own level, who is in obedience and devotion to that which is
below him. Allegiance to a Higher is one of the trumpet-calls of the
world. It has been the rally of all armies, of all legions, of all
crusades. The great commander is, by his very position, a grouper of
other men, the ruler of their thoughts, their deeds, their dreams. His
power to call and to sway is beyond his own ideas of it. How otherwise
could it be that out of one century one heart calls to another--out of
one age, proceeds the answer to the cry of ages gone?
The lover of music to-day allies himself to Bach, to Haydn, to Mozart,
to Wagner, by his appreciation, his sympathy, his understanding of what
they have done. He acknowledges their control of his musical self by his
efforts to interpret their work to others, and to create new works which
shall be inspired by their ideals. Thus he acknowledges their control of
his own powers. Such control over the spirit of man is that of the
Church over the social body; it stirs the spiritual aspiration of man,
it directs his ambition. It fixes upon a standard, the Cross; upon a
Hero, the Christ, and reaches unto all the world its arm of power,
drawing unto itself the loyalty, the faith, the affection, and the royal
service of successive generations of mankind.
The dream of Redemption. It is not technical creeds for which the
Church as a whole stands, but for certain vital principles which concern
the life of the soul, and its relation to God and man. Virtue has always
been a dream of the heart. But how inaccessible is virtue, with a past
of unforgiven sin! The height of our ideal of redemption is conditioned
upon the depth of our realization of sin. To the shallow, redemption is
an easy-going process, a way of healing the scratches which the world
makes. To the deep and serious-minded, redemption involves the
regeneration of the race. Only the ransomed can truly work, love,
There is one sorrow which God never calls us to--the sorrow of a wasted
life. By redemption, the Church reveals not only a saving from
rebellion, unbelief, and crime, but redemption from sloth, from
indifference, from lack of purpose, and from low aims. Redemption looms
up as the great economic force of Time--that which inspires and
preserves our powers, directs our energies, creates opportunity, brings
to pass our most high and holy desires, and fills life with satisfying
and abiding things.
Beauty, harmony, and affection are the natural laws of the moral world.
There is no despair where there has been no disobedience. _Christus
Salvator_ stands out before the world in majesty and power. Virtue is
enthroned in a universe which is beneficent.
The dream of Fellowship. The Church is the great social body. We can
never live our best life in the world, and stand outside the Church.
There is something vital in personal contact, and in social affiliation.
It strengthens the best and otherwise most complete work. The Christian
Church is a body of allies, whose work is the upbuilding of the kingdom
of God. We do not realize how great a bond this is. We have our own
church centre, our own denomination, our own local interests. But by and
by a great occasion arises--a revival which sweeps the country, a
reunion of two long-divided parties, an Ecumenical Council, a Chinese
persecution--and suddenly there arises before the mind's eye a glimpse
of that Church which girdles the world, whose emissaries are in every
country, whose voices speak in every tongue. We perceive that
everywhere are
          "_Swelling hills and spacious plains
     Besprent from shore to shore with steeple-towers,
     And spires whose silent finger points to heaven_."
Says Wordsworth also:
     "_They dreamt not of a perishable home,
        Who thus could build_."
Many an ideal state has been thought out, in which fellowship should be
the root of social progress. But in what state is the proffered
fellowship like that of the communion of saints? Each has his share of
work and dreams; each has his endowment of talent and of opportunity;
each has his aspirations and supreme hope. The joys of one are the joys
of all. The sorrows of one are the sorrows of all. The triumphs of one
are the triumphs of all. The World-burden is the task set to be removed.
The World-upbuilding in love, joy, peace, and truth is the final
endeavor. This community of interest is the strongest coalition the
world has yet known.
There are those who say, I prefer to worship by myself! One might as
well say, I prefer to fight in battle by myself! There is a time for
personal worship, and there is a time for social worship. Alone, the
heart meets God. Alone, its prayers for individual needs and longings
are offered up. Alone, it asks for blessings on the individual life and
work. But the personal life is only a fragmentary part of the life
universal. Above the ages rings an Over-song of praise. From shrines and
cathedrals, from chapels, churches, tents, and caves, there arises, day
after day, this incense of united prayer, from a vast and
heaven-uplifted throng! Each of us would say, Canopied under
world-skies, I, too, would join this chorus of adoring love!
The dream of Permanence. The immortality of the Church is akin to the
immortality of the soul. It is a connection which is never severed. When
we enter the visible body of the Church on earth, we connect ourselves
with the invisible hosts of the Church on high. We enter a company
which shall never be disbanded nor dismayed. Something subtle and
eternal seems to lay hold of our spirits, and to lift them even to God's
Throne. For this Time has been, and for this Time now is: to present
spotless before Him the innumerable company of the redeemed, the
lion-hearted who, armed by faith and shod with fire, in robes of azure
and with songs of praise, shall stand before Him even for evermore!
2. The Church is the centre of a great circle of remembrance. One of
Constable's famous paintings represents the Cathedral of Salisbury
outlined against a storm-swept sky, with a lovely rainbow arched beyond
it. So stands the Church athwart the landscape of our lives. In each
community the church is like a living thing! How every stone grows
significant and dear! How the lights and shadows of its arches, the dim,
faint-tinted windows, the carvings and tracings, the atmosphere and
coloring, all sink into the heart, and make a background for memories
that never pass away! Who ever forgets the tones of the old organ, the
voice of the choir, the accent, look, and bearing of one's early pastor,
the rustle of the leaves without the window, the rush of the fresh
summer air, the soft falling of the rain?
The path to the church is worn by the feet of generations. Thither the
aged go up, and thither the laughing, romping children. Weary men and
women bear their burdens thither; triumphant souls bring shining faces
and uplifted brows; love and dreams cluster round the church, and the
life of the soul, silent and hidden, is subtly acted upon by persuasions
and convictions that rule the heart amid the fiercest storms and
temptations of the world. The church is a sanctuary and shield; it is an
emblem of strength and peace. Three angels stand before its altar: Life,
Love, Death! Hither is brought the babe for the christening, hither
comes the wedding procession, and here are laid, with farewell tears,
the quiet dead. Day by day within that church, as one grows to manhood
and womanhood, one enters into race-experiences, and feels, however
vaguely, that the Holy Spirit abides within them all.
3. The Church affords the best outlet for moral activity. Where shall we
put our moral powers? In what work shall they centre? From what point
shall they diverge? Scattered action is irresolute; it is the
centripetal powers that count.
The Church stands ready to engage, to the full, the moral powers of man.
It can rightly distribute the spiritual vitality of the world. It rouses
the moral emotions and affections, and gives scope for contrition,
adoration, and thanksgiving,--the Trisagion of the heart.
In the press and stir of life we sometimes forget that the highest
emotions of which we are capable are those of joy, praise, and prayer.
Joy is a heavenward uplift of life--deep happiness of spirit. Praise is
an appreciation of the greatness and mercy of the Infinite. Worship is
the outpouring of the whole nature, an ascription of blessing, glory,
honor, and power and majesty to God. It flows from the religious
imagination, and is the supreme offering of the intellectual as well as
of the emotional life.
The Church is a body ministrant: it has received the accolade of
spiritual service. It stands among the world's forces, as one of giving,
not of gain. It holds within its scope both a teaching and a training
power. It is the school of the soul, the illuminator of the meaning and
discipline of life. Abelard is said to have attracted thirty thousand
students to Paris by his teaching. But the Church to-day calls into its
assemblies fully one-third of the millions of the world. They are held
by its tenets, guided by its ideals, thrilled by its hopes, and set to
its works of charity and mercy. The highest philanthropy is but a
scientific renewal and adaptation of work which has had its start,
primarily, in the Christian Church. Wealth is its vicegerent, and from
the adherents to the Church fall largely the contributions to great
philanthropic causes.
Take the work of Missions alone: Has there ever before been a body which
attempted to bring the whole world into its fellowship, to make known
everywhere its ideals, and to share with all living a spiritual
inheritance? "The Evangelization of the World by this Generation" is
one of the most sublime thoughts which has come to the race.
4. There is a large amount of ability in the world which the Church
needs, but which has not yet been thoroughly enlisted in church service.
Take business energy, executive ability. It is a common saying, that
business men are not interested in the Church, and do not work well in
it. Why? Because there is not yet in the Church enough of the active and
economic spirit to make a business man feel at home in it, or approve of
its ways of work.
This weak spot in the Church, which business men mock at, or fret at,
exactly reveals the work that is waiting for business men to do.
Business to-day takes intellectual grasp and insight--promptness,
energy, enterprise, and common-sense. These qualities are needed at once
in the conduct of the Church.
A second class greatly needed by the Church is the university-bred. Many
college graduates are church-members--some are even active workers. But
until lately the universities as a whole have stood rather indifferently
apart from the Church. They have somewhat indulgently regarded it as one
more historic institution for preserving myth and legend. To them the
Christ-life has meant little more than the Beowa-myth, the Arthur-saga,
the Nibelungen cycle, the Homeric stories, the Thor-and-Odin tales!
Druids, fire-worshippers, moon-dancers, and Christian communicants have
been comparatively studied, with a view to understanding the
race-progress in rite and religious form.
This spirit is changing. The most remarkable aspect of the intellectual
life of to-day is the rise of faith in the universities. Like the
incoming of a great tidal wave at sea is the wave of spiritual insight
and religious aspiration that is rolling over the colleges of our land.
The whole intellectual structure of the Church is approaching
reconstruction--its doctrines, creeds, tenets. This reconstruction
cannot possibly be effected by schools of theology alone. At every point
the theologian needs assistance from the man of science. Philosophy,
psychology, ethics, history, literature, sociology, language, natural
science, and archaeology are all bound up in an old creed and must be
looked into, ere a new statement can take form. Their data must be known
at first-hand. Hence there is no intellectual specialty which may not be
made invaluable to the Church.
Too often religion has been a matter of hearsay or dogma. A bitter
conflict has always raged between theology and the latest word of
science. The Church cannot afford to be without the scientific thinkers
of the race. The time has come when there is everywhere heard the call
of Jesus to men of mind.
What work awaits the university man or woman? It is to help free the
Church from traditions and superstitions which scholarship cannot
uphold. It is to throw fresh vigor and intellectual vitality into the
services of the Church. It is to build up a hymnology which shall be
noble and poetic in expression; it is to contribute a great religious
literature to the world. It is the work of educated men and women to add
their insight, their zeal for truth, their scholarship, their training
and ideals to the Christian community: to sweep thought and practice out
of ancient ruts, to clarify the spiritual vision of the world, and to
present new aspects of truth and new goals of human endeavor! Let
Research join hands with Prayer.
A third class which the Church needs to-day is that of the working-man.
The hand of the working-man is the hand that has really moulded history.
Working-men lead a brave and self-sacrificing life. From their toil come
the necessaries and many of the comforts of the race. The man of labor
knows the root-problems of the industrial world. While all his industry
and skill, all his courage, heroism, and strong-armed life are so
largely alienated from the Church, the Church is deprived of one of the
fundamental sources of inspiration and growth. The tree of progress can
never grow, except it has labor-roots. It is absolutely essential for
the health of the Church that every form of human energy be represented.
Suppose that by some great revival a very large number of working men
and women could suddenly be added to the membership of the Church. What
would happen? Would there not be at once a return to more simplicity of
life? There are two currents at work always in society--emulation and
sympathy. Rightly used, each is for the social good. If all classes of
men and women worked side by side in the Church, many great social
differences would become adjusted.
5. It holds sway over the fortunes of the home. Where, outside of the
Church, will you find the ideal conception of marriage, and the really
united and happy home? The Church makes for domestic happiness, because
it goes straight to the roots of life and plants happiness where
happiness alone can grow. More and more the Church is lifting the
standards of a noble, proud, pure, and rejoicing married life. Its ideal
of human love is sacred, because founded on the deeper love of the soul
in God. The Church is drawing hosts of young people under the shelter of
its teaching, and is placing before men and women ideals which cannot
fail to make their mark upon the social standards of the times. It
stands for purity, for patience, for tenderness, for the love of little
children, for united education and endeavor, for mutual hopes and
dreams, for large public service.
6. It is the militant force of time. We speak of the Church militant,
and of the Church triumphant. For us, to-day, the Church militant.
To-morrow, triumph comes. Armies have been, and armies shall be, but the
hosts of this world fight against material foes, and largely for
material ends. It is the glory of the Church militant that its conquests
are spiritual and its victories are eternal. Its fight is chiefly
against the inner, not the outer foe--against sin and wrong-doing,
impatience, strife, anger, clamor, meanness, evil-speaking, wrath. It is
the foe of tyranny and its heel is upon the head of the oppressor and
the avenger. Its banner flies over every country and has been carried
through tribulation, through sorrow, through danger, and through death
to the remotest parts of the yet-known world. Its troops are legion,
marching from the far distances of the past, and extending out to the
far confines of the eternal years.
7. It is the ascendant force of the future. Rightly conducted, it will
surely absorb the vigor of the world. To stand apart from it is to be
out of step with the march of nations. The processional of progress
to-day is the processional of the historic influence of the Church. What
force has there been in time gone by, which has lived and so greatly
grown for nineteen hundred years? Nations have risen, and nations have
decayed. States, once prominent, have passed into the oblivion of the
years. Plato and Pericles, Socrates and Sophocles, Philip and Alexander,
the Caesars, the Georges, and the Louis have passed away. Their
politics have passed from our following; their empires are no more. But
through these centuries of change, the Church of God has risen stronger,
more powerful year by year; stretching its arm out to the uttermost
parts of the earth; levying tribute on the islands of the sea; enlisting
all ages and conditions, and looking out over coming generations--not as
a waning, but as a growing and ever-increasing power. Think you that
such a Church can die? Think you that any spiritual power aloof from
this Church can be as efficient as if it were allied with it?
These, you say, are the reasons why one's allegiance should be given to
the Christian Church. Let us now look back over the processional as it
marches across the dim years. Saints, martyrs, confessors, evangelists,
and singing children have joined its historic train. Is there any other
processional in the world's history which, numbering such millions and
millions, began with only one? When the Christ enters the arena of
history, He comes as one to lead myriad deep-lived souls! Next, there
follow twelve. They, two by two, take up the marching line. Think of
their deeds and influence, of their inspiring power! What would have
been the record of those obscure fishermen of Galilee and of their
simple friends, had they refused to ally themselves with the leader who
called for their allegiance and their obedient love?
Next follow the early disciples. Tried by scourging, by stripes, by
poverty, by imprisonment, by all manner of danger and trial, they yet
remain true. Then follow the prophets, those whose clear vision looks
out on things unknown and things unseen. To the prophet is intrusted the
ministry of hope and inspiration. Then follow the martyrs who yield life
for the cause they profess. In torture at the stake, and on the cross,
by fire and by sword, they show forth an unshaken and undying faith.
Then follow matrons and virgins, babes and children, reformers and
mediaeval saints with a convoy of angels, singing as they march. These
are the Church triumphant, the Church above. But to-day we have among us
the Church militant--the long processional of congregations, elders,
deacons, members, ministers and missionaries, young people, and workers
in every phase of enterprise and reform. These all communicant on earth
are the Church militant, whose work is to keep alive the traditions of
the past and to march onward to an endless victory and to an unceasing
praise. Who, looking upon that processional, filing through the ages of
the years of man, would say that there may be a parliament of religions?
A parliament of boasts and pomps, of good precepts and queries, of
misuses and half-truths, of superstitions and infinite idolatries, no
doubt; but there is but one religion, though it be perverted in many
ways and rightly revealed at divers times; and there is but one God,
infinite, true, holy, just, loving, and eternal. Where now are the gods
of Hamath and of Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim? Bow thy head,
O Buddha! and do thou, O Zoroaster! hang thy head. Isis and Osiris grow
dim; Jove nods in heaven; the pipe of Pan is dumb; Thor is silent in the
northern Aurora; the tree of Igdrasil waves in midnight; Confucius is
pale; Muhammad is dust. Darkness is over the skirts of the gods of the
past--gloom receives them, Erebus holds outstretched arms. But the Lord
God, Jehovah, the Ancient of Days, encanopied in space and glory, leads
onward to the end of years His people in a mighty train, to a rule and
kingdom which shall know no end. May thou and I, dear friend-soul, in
whatsoever land thou be, may thou and I be numbered in that throng!
IV. THE WORLD-MARCH: OF KINGS
     [DIE WACHT AM RHEIN]
     _Jesus shall reign where'er the sun
     Doth his successive journeys run;
     His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
     Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
     People and realms of every tongue
     Dwell on His love with sweetest song;
     And infant voices shall proclaim
     Their early blessings on His Name.
     Blessings abound where'er He reigns;
     The prisoner leaps to lose his chains,
     The weary find eternal rest,
     And all the sons of want are blest.
     Let every creature rise and bring
     Peculiar honors to our King;
     Angels descend with songs again,
     And earth repeat the loud Amen_.
     ISAAC WATTS
The elemental force of some men is appalling. They lift their
eyes--thrones tremble; they wave a hand--empires rise or fall. It comes
over the heart of many a man at times, Here am I, running my little
office, shop, factory, fire-engine, or professional circuit, with no
influence that I can see, beyond my borough or my barn-yard. But in the
world there are other men, no taller than I, no older than I--men born
within a stone's throw of where I was born--whose hand is on the fate of
nations, and whose decrees are universal law!
It is deeply impressive, the way in which one man, born not above
myriads of his fellows, begins to rise until by and by he stands head
and shoulders above his generation! What is the inner vitality which
presses him upward? What is this hidden difference in men by which one
remains in the by-eddies of life, and another sweeps out on the crest of
the rising tide of history?
Much of it is in the man himself. To be kingly is inborn. There is the
nature that refuses to be shut up to the petty, that will not content
itself with one street or town, that steps out into life from childhood
with the step of the conqueror, and walks among us; one who was born a
king. To be a king, one must have the powers of organization,
combination, discipline, direction, statesmanship. These qualities
enlarge as one passes from the particular to the general, from the
personal to the range of natural forces, emergencies, and wide pursuits.
Dominion is an inherent right of the soul. In all our hearts, did we but
listen and understand, there are adumbrations of kingly ancestors, and
the latent stirrings of kingly powers.
Which of us would want to be born at all, if we should be told in
advance, You shall never control anything? You shall never have the
slightest chance of self-assertion, of impressing your own individuality
upon the world? One might as well be born without hands or feet!
Kingship involves ascendancy and authority. Both are truly gained, not
by chicanery, but by personal force. There is a natural gift of
leadership, which is strengthened by endurance, perseverance, and
ceaseless hard work.
Kingship also involves a larger vision. One man looks at his
shoe-strings; another man looks at the stars. The first step toward rule
is to find a point of view from which one can look widely out over the
race. This is the primary value of education: it is not that books are
important, but that men are--the men who have swayed history--and books
tell of such men. Not the library is inspirational, but the life-spirit
of mankind, bound up in even dusty papyrus-rolls, or set on
clay-tablets of four thousand years ago. He who would serve his times
politically must first understand, so far as may be, all times.
Another basis of supremacy is conviction. Leadership belongs to those
who believe. The man who has a definite policy to propose, and a
definite way of working for it, soon outstrips the man who is just
looking about.
Kingship involves an iron will. An iron will does not imply necessarily
ugliness of temper, obstinacy, or pig-headedness. It is simply a
straight-forward, dauntless, and invincible way of doing things. What I
say, you must do, is back of all successful leadership, whether in the
home or in the world-arena. The man who is master of the obedience of
his child, or of his fellows, is master of their fate. We are all at the
mercy of the strong-willed.
Growth is development in right assertion; it is the assumption of
legitimate responsibility and command. To be lowly of heart does not
mean to be inefficient; to be humble does not necessarily mean to be
obscure. Luther and Lincoln were both of a childlike humility of heart.
What Christianity has not emphasized in the past, but what it must now
begin to emphasize, is the reality of dominion--its value, and its
relation to the kingdom of God. For centuries, religion has too often
been thought of, too often spoken of, as if it were the last resource of
the heart, A brilliant young professor of psychology not long ago
referred to religion as something to flee to, by those who were
disappointed in love! We have spoken so much of "giving up," that the
Christian life has wrongly seemed to mean the giving-up of one's
individuality, interests, powers. As well might we expert the deep sea
to give up its rolling tides, or the air to give up its four winds, as
to expect the heart of man to part with its human hopes!
This is not a right interpretation of life. When Nature plants an oak in
the forest, she does not say, Be a lichen, an _Eozooen canadense_, a
small ground-creeping thing! She says, Grow! Become a tall, strong,
mountain tree! When we hold our baby in our arms, we do not say, My
child, be good for nothing! Neither does God say, Be nothing, do
nothing! Just exist as humbly and meekly as you can! He says, "Quit you
Each of us is born for a sceptre and a crown. It gives a strange new
thrill to life, to realize that we may be just as ambitious as we
please, that we may long earnestly for high things, and work for them,
if our inmost desire is not for self but for God. This new idea of
ambition should be at the root of education and of religious teaching.
Piety is not a namby-pamby sentiment; it is a great intellectual force.
Desire is architectural: our dreams should be of prestige and power.
True ambition is the reaching-out of the soul toward preordained
things. What else is the meaning of our love for excellence, our
insatiable yearning for perfection? "What is excellent," says Emerson,
"is permanent." To excel in any work is to combine in that work the most
enduring qualities of human labor; to excel in any place is to shine
forth with the great qualities of the race. Hence, ambition has a
rightful place.
The power of a king is the power of control. All about us are moving the
great forces of the universe--physical, intellectual, moral, spiritual.
What we can do with them is a test of our power. Life is in many ways a
majestic trial of one's power to command.
Three men buy adjoining tracts of land. One man mines coal upon his
acres. He amasses wealth and influence because he is in control of the
Carboniferous age and the human need of light and heat. The second man
tills his ground and raises wheat and corn. He is in command of living
nature--of the rotation of seasons, of wind, frost, rain; he uses them
to provide food for those that hunger and must be fed. The third man
lies under the trees. He digs no mine. He plants and reaps no corn and
grain. He simply lies under the trees, gazes into the sky and dreams.
Men call him idle, but he is not so. One day he writes a book. It lives
a thousand years. His control is over the spirit of man. He has entered
into its hopes and sorrows, its aspirations and its dreams.
This story is a Parable of Kings. Such is the power of control that is
granted to each new soul. Each child is bequeathed at birth a sceptre
and a crown.
The first rule is parental. The primitive monarchy is in the home. A
young baby cries. The trained nurse turns on the light, lifts the baby,
hushes it, sings to it, rocks it, and stills its weeping by caresses and
song. When next the baby is put down to sleep, more cries, more soothing
and disturbance, and the setting of a tiny instinct which shall some day
be will--the power of control.
The grandmother arrives on the scene. When baby cries, she plants the
little one firmly in its crib, turns down the light, pats and soothes
the tiny restless hands that fight the air, watches, waits. From the
crib come whimpers, angry cries, yells, sobs, baby snarls and sniffles
that die away in a sleepy infant growl. Silence, sleep, repose, and the
building of life and nerve and muscle in the quiet and the darkness. The
baby has been put in harmony with the laws of nature--the invigoration
of fresh air, sleep, stillness--and the little one wakens and grows like
a fresh, sweet rose. The mother, looking on, learns of the ways of
God with men.
Firmness is the true gentleness. There is a form of authority which must
be as implacable as the divine decree. Mercy is the requiring of
obedience to law; it is not a cajoling training in law-defiance, which
shall one day break the mother's heart and upset the social relations of
The next rule is personal: the direction of one's own energy in the way
of one's own will. The child moves his hands, his feet; he turns his
rattle up and down, and shakes it about. He discovers that he can pull
things toward him and push them away; that he can reach things that are
higher than his head. He begins to creep. He touches things that are the
other side of the world from him, that is, across the room. He plucks
fibres from the rug or carpet; swallows straws, buttons, and little
strings. He pounds, and sets up vibrations of pleasant noise; he clashes
ten-pins, he blows his whistle, squeezes his rubber horse and man,
rattles the newspaper, flings about his bottle and his blocks. He feels
himself a self-directing power, and at times asserts this power against
the will of those who would make him do what he does not want to do. The
love of rule is in him, and he lays his little hands on power.
Education determines whether this power shall be for good or for evil.
We cannot take away power from any child--he shall move the affairs of
nations--but we can direct this love of power, or crush it; strengthen
it, or weaken it; turn it toward the highest help of man, or deflect it
to tyranny, cruelty, and crime.
Child-training is guidance in the way of God's decrees. It is not the
setting of one's own ideas upon a little child; it is not the
gratification of one's own love of power; it is not the satisfaction of
one's own self-conceit. It is a firm, humble striving to carry on the
harmony of the universe: to bring up the child to love order, justice,
mercy, and truth.
Education is the teaching of how to direct energy for the universal
good. It lays hold of a child and, out of his destructive instincts--the
instinct to bang, and pull, and tear to pieces--it develops creative
power, the inventive genius that lies hid within him. It takes the pure
love of noise, and trains it to pitches, harmonies, intervals, and makes
a musician of the boy who used to whack his spoon. It takes the alphabet
and the early pothooks, and the boy by and by combines them into
literature. The apples and the peaches which he is taught to exchange
justly are by and by transmuted into trade and commerce. He brings
cargoes from Cuba and Ceylon, trades with Japan and Hawaii, and the
Asiatic isles. The energy of block-building is developed into sculpture,
architecture, and civil engineering. The stamping of his foot in anger
is directed to determination, perseverance, the rule of the brave
spirit, the unconquerable will. Nothing is more marvellous than this
grave upbuilding.
The next rule is social: the direction of personal energy that shall
leave a distinct impress on other lives. It is long before we realize
that for each exertion we are responsible; that what we do is held
against us in strict account, not only by fate, which builds our destiny
for us out of our own deeds, but by every other person with whom we come
in contact. Our fellows check off daily against us so much vitality, so
much magnanimity, so much idleness, cruelty, spite, goodness,
selfishness, meanness, or loving-kindness. Life holds a record of our
every deed, and from no least responsibility can we make our escape. We
are the prisoners of events which we ourselves have brought about.
The discipline of ethics, of home-training, of the Church, and of
religious teaching is addressed fundamentally to this social
consciousness of ours, this responsibility which we cannot evade. To
bear rule aright is to go forth into the world to build up, in
authority, talent, and influence, the kingdom of God.
1. There is the agricultural phase of social rule. A man tills a farm.
It has upon it trees, streams, woodland, and meadow-land. He may
rule--to what end? If he rules it for his own personal ends--merely to
fill his granaries, and lay up gold--he rules it for miserliness, with a
sort of thrift that is as passing in inheritance as the flying
Or he may say: I will keep my land in trust for God. I will hold rain
and frost, heat and cold, storm and sun, in fee simple for the race. My
grain shall pass out into the world's mart, sent forth with love and
prayer. Such a farmer is the incarnation of moral grandeur. Let men
laugh, if they will, at his overalls and plough, his wide-brimmed hat,
his simple manners, and his homely, racy speech. His feet are by the
furrow, but his heart is in heaven, and his treasure is there also. Says
the author of _Nine Acres on the Hillside_, "The agriculturist walks
side by side with the Creator."
There is a fine integrity which lies in land. There is a resolution
which is concerned with crops. There is a wisdom born of wind and
weather. There is a power which comes from the constant revival of life
in seed and fruit and flower. This man is King of God's Acres. Let him
not despise his kingdom, and may the succession not depart from
2. There is a rule which is industrial. A man is sent into the world to
wield a hammer, a saw, and run an engine. If his rule over his hammer is
weak, if he does not know how to use it well, if its blow is uncertain
and its result unskilled, then he passes from the line of kings, and is
subject, instead of in authority, in his own domain. He is captive to a
piece of steel or wood. So with every tool of trade. Each man who
conquers his tool is a ruler--is in control of elements of human
happiness and good. The roof-mender, the furnace-builder, the
cloth-weaver, the yarn-spinner, the steel-worker, the miller--do not
these all keep the race warmed, and clad, and fed?
3. The next rule is commercial. Trade itself is neither menial nor
demeaning. Rightly used, it is a high form of control. People have
things to buy and things to sell. The maker is handicapped. He cannot
travel elsewhere to dispose of what he has. The buyer is ignorant. He
does not know where to go, or cannot go, at first-hand, for the shoes,
the hat, the reaper, the bricks, the lumber, the stationery which he
must use. There appears upon the scene the man of observation, of
investigation, of capital, of shrewdness, of resources. With one hand he
gathers the products of the Pacific and of the South Seas. With the
other, he takes the output of the Atlantic seaboard, the Gulf States,
the Mississippi valley, the northern lakes and hills. He sets up an
establishment, he puts forth runners, advertisements, and show-windows.
He stocks shelves, decks counters, and employs clerks, packers,
salesmen, cash-boys, buyers, and department heads. The man who wants to
buy, buys from a man across the sea and yet is served in his own town.
The man of commercial power is a man of world-wide rule. He may lay up
in banks a fortune which he intends to try to spend upon himself; or he
may say: I am accountable for the pocket-books of the world. I am in
authority over them. I open a market, or close it. I buy, dispense, and
disperse human labor. I create wants, and I satisfy them. I will
establish honest laws of trade. What I do shall be rated as commercial
law. What I say shall be quoted as a way of equity and probity. That man
is a King of Trade. His throne is set upon hills and seas. His subjects
are all men with needs, and all men with products of the land, the
coasts, the sea, or brain, or skill. This is the lawful King of Trade.
He represents God's mart of exchange. Primarily, goods are not bought
and sold in the market. They are first transferred in that man's brain.
4. Another rule is of concerted works: the rule of the Engineer. Back of
every advance in our country, in facilities of trade and transportation,
or of public health and safety, stands the man who thought it out. Take,
for instance, the development of the "Great American Desert." Who
projected its irrigation, by which areas have been redeemed from
barrenness and waste? Who planned the economic use of the Niagara Falls?
Who built the Brooklyn Bridge? Who projected the vast waterway from
Chicago to the Gulf? Who first thought of a cable across the depths of
seas? Who bridged the Firth of Forth, the Ganges, the Mississippi? Who
projected the gray docks of Montreal? the Simplon Tunnel? Who wound the
iron rails across the Alleghanies, the Rockies, the Sierras? Who drew
the wall that has encircled China for a thousand years? Who projected
the Suez Canal? the Trans-Siberian Railway? Who sunk the mines of
Eldorado? Who designed the Esplanade at Hamburg? the stone banks of the
Seine? the waterways of Venice? the aqueducts of Rome? the Appian Way?
the military roads of Chili and Peru? the Subway in New York?
Gravity, stress, strain, weight, tension, sag, cohesion,--a few
mathematical formulas, and a knowledge of the primary laws of
physics,--upon such principles as these, the world is rapidly changing
form and use.
The Engineer, in a strange and subtle way, stands near to God. His work
is done hand-in-hand with God. He takes the forces of nature and the
laws of the material world, and bends them to the needs and use of man.
Sky and sea or desert may be about him. He knows the arctic cold, the
tropic heat; the forest and the plain; the mountain and the marsh; the
brook and river; the peak and the precipice; the glacier and the tempest
in their course. Out of the very elements he is daily building new paths
for man to tread. Soon he, too, must pass; laid after death, it may be,
beside some mighty water that his handiwork has spanned.
In loneliness and silence does he not often think, I wonder, of the God
with whom he deals? It is God who provides the river and the sea; God
who through endless ages has piled stone on stone, crust on crust, and
has crumpled the strata of the earth as tissue in His hand. It is God
who has bound every mote to the earth-centre; who has sent magnetic
currents coursing through the globe, and has made tides and sea-changes,
and the trade-winds to blow. It is the God of the Gulf Stream, the
Caribbean Sea, the God of the Appalachians, the God of the Himalayas,
the God of the Cordilleras, of the Amazon, the Yukon, the Yang-tse-Kiang
with which he really deals.
The endless ages pass and go, but God abides. Little, daring man lifts
here and there a hand to mould the world which God has made--pricks the
earth for gold or silver, iron or coal--but GOD is everywhere immanent
and shines through every hour of change. Hence the March of Engineers is
the march of men whom God has trained; in a special sense His
master-workmen, craftsmen whom He loves. It is theirs to say, We are the
Kings of Works: the Master-builders of the Most High!
5. There are Kings of Academic Thought, men who lead in professions and
in collegiate careers. The wise man is the true aristocrat. His court
may not be in a palace, but within its precincts are received and
entertained the leaders of the race. To be provost, to be college
president or university professor, is to be seated on an
intellectual throne.
The problem of academic rule is not to attract a large number of
students, to put up imposing buildings, to have endowments, and fill
chairs with learned specialists; to grant many degrees, and to keep the
hum of a teaching staff and of a student body alive in the ears of a
community, marking the college group by flags and colors, cap and gown,
processions and occasions. These things are right, but are mainly
accessory. We have not all of a university when we have men and
buildings, money, students, brains. Back of a university there lies its
foundation-idea, that of academic control.
What is academic rule? It is rule over the pride of man. A college is a
place whose chief power is to inculcate humility by the means of true
learning; to establish intellectual honor and integrity by searching out
the ways of God in nature, science, and philosophy, and in letters
It is the primary work of a university to make men humble. The Freshman
is not teachable. The Sophomore is an intellectual upstart. But by the
time a man has been beaten and conquered by the great ideals of the
world, which have pierced his bones and humbled his conceit--by the time
the race-passions and the race-sorrows have crept across his spirit, by
the time that he has been confronted with the achievements of Homer,
Empedocles, Hippocrates, Michelangelo, Socrates, Buddha, Plato, Emerson,
Gladstone, Bismarck, Lincoln, and Carlyle--his self-exaltation drops
from him like a garment. He--who knows how to construe a few pages of
the classics, who knows how to demonstrate a few mathematical problems,
scan a few verses, recite a few odes, carry on a few scientific
experiments, undertake a small research--how shall he compete with these
rulers of the thought of men?
Then it is that the real rule of a university--its spirit of humility,
and of reverence for antiquity--begins. The true university man, born
and bred in the century, not in the years, in the race halls, not those
alone in his Alma Mater, is neither a scoffer nor an atheist, nor a
critic, sceptic, or cynic. He is a man of simple and exalted faith. God,
who hath brought such great things to pass in science, nature, and art,
in human character, in the destiny of nations, and the history of humble
men and women, is a God before whom there must be awe and reverence, and
not a flippant scouting of the ancient ideals. Man, who is so tried by
temptation and scourging of the spirit, is a creature to be loved,
appreciated, understood; not a being to whom shall be shown arrogance,
aloofness, and pride. The university that makes snobs of its graduates
has not yet entered into its kingdom of control.
A university also holds rule over truth. Absolute truth is in God's
hand. But the university has class-rooms and libraries, apparatus and
laboratories, which are intended for the discovery and furtherance of
truth. The university is not a place to cry out for big salaries. The
salaries should be living salaries. The seeker after truth should not be
left without enough money for heat and shelter, for bread and meat, rest
and summer-change; for the coming of children and their education. But
truth may lodge without shame in an humble dwelling and may be greatly
furthered without an elaborate bill of fare.
The university men of the times are the establishers of a kind of
righteousness that is not always found in books. Their individual value,
as they go out into the world, is to set right values on social customs
and decrees; to establish the law of freedom in the home; to lead men
and women out of the thraldom of ignorance, vulgarity, hearsay, and
"style," into simplicity of living and a sane scale of household
expense. The university leader of the future is the man who shall set
laws over household accounts and who shall rule over such simple things
as what best to eat and buy. He shall be an economist of the larger
sort, providing for the spiritual necessities of men and their moral
conduct, rather than for their balls, card-parties, and social
side-shows, including church entertainments and philanthropic dances and
bazaars. He shall pave the way to a larger view of wealth, influence,
and reform; endue man with a keener sense of his own responsibilities,
make him a creature of larger desires and of more aspiring wants.
In particular, he shall pass down from generation to generation the high
and noble learning of the past; he shall keep alive the flower of
courtesy and charity; he shall tell the dreams of past sages, and
interpret them; he shall review the thronging nations; and he shall so
imbue the mind with a love of truth, of ideals, of excellence, of honor,
that a new race shall go out into a larger and a nobler world. And then
a better day shall dawn for men.
6. The Kings of State. Says Milton, in his sonnet on Cromwell:
                              "_Yet much remains
     To conquer still; Peace hath her victories
     No less renowned than War: new foes arise,
     Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains.
     Help us to save free conscience from the paw
     Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw_."
In the third moon of the year 1276, Bayan, the conquering lieutenant of
Genghis Khan, captured Hangchow, received the jade rings of the Sungs,
and was taken out to the bank of the river Tsientang to see the spirit
of Tsze-sue pass by in the great bore of Hangchow--that tidal wave which
annually rolls in, and, dashing itself against the sea-wall of Hangchow,
rushes far up the river, bringing, for eighteen miles inland, a tide of
fresh, deep-sea splendor, and thrilling all who see or hear.
In the life of nations there are times and tides. Against the tide-wall
of history, beaten by many a storm, and battered by many a thundering
wave, there is about to sweep the incoming wave of a new life for the
race: there is about to pass a greater than the spirit of Tsze-sue,--even
the Spirit of God!
     "_We are living,-we are dwelling,
        In a grand and awful time,
     Age on age to ages telling,
        To be living is sublime_!"
We are moving out into a period of great statesmen, and of great
political standards and ideals. The days before us are days which will
make the Elizabethan era pale in history. Upon the head of our nation
are set responsibilities such as have never before rested on any
The day of the true statesman is here; the day of the demagogue is done!
The rule of the orator is over the ideals and hopes of men. The
demagogue prostitutes this power. His rule is over the passions,
prejudices, and resentments of men. He cries aloud in the market-place,
and rogues and ward-heelers, and evil-minded politicians, group
themselves around him. He waves his sceptre over the vulgar and the
rascals of the town.
The vital problem of municipal reform is not the shattering of the ring,
the overturning of the boss, the gagging of a few loud tongues. It is
the problem of the training of better bosses; the education of men and
women in social control; their enlightenment, from childhood up, in
civic duties, in national affairs, and the conduct of civil power.
Thereupon oratory turns to its higher ends. Through statesman, preacher,
and political teacher, it cries aloud of righteousness. I look for the
time when the typical politician shall be an honorable man; when to be
"in the ring" of municipal or national control shall mean to be an
integral and orderly part of the administration of God's great world;
when city life shall be purified; and when international law shall be
the interpretation of the will of the Almighty for the rule of nations.
We have honest doctors, lawyers, tradesmen; shall we not have an honest
politician and an upright ward-boss?
Public service is a god-like service! Our Presidents shall more and more
be chosen, not alone for ideas, experience, or for party affiliations:
the President shall be chosen because he is a moral hero! Something has
stirred in the heart of the American people, which shall not soon be
stilled: a spiritual outlook upon political preferment. In the White
House we long to have the great spiritual exemplars of our race. Not
alone in church shall we offer up a "Prayer before Election." The time
is coming when each true ballot-slip shall be a prayer.
Within the next fifty years shall be determined some of the greatest
questions of history. Among them shall be questions of industrial
adjustment and development, and of social progress. We must have in our
Cabinet not only the representatives of War and State, of Finance,
Trade, Labor, and Agriculture; but also of Education and of Social
Health. This is not a dream. You and I may live to see the results of
this religious awakening: it is elemental and epochal.
Back of all individual dominion there is rising a yet higher
dominion--the dominion of the English-speaking race. We, having been
called by the providence of God to stand at the head of the march of
progress, may well ask ourselves concerning our imperial powers. The
line of progress for a nation is to allow no spiritual ideal to stagnate
or to retrograde. The spiritual aspiration of a nation always dominates
what is called the Social Mind. We grow toward what we worship. It is
ours to plant the dominion of civilization in foreign lands, and to
supplant a waning culture by a richer, truer, and nobler way of life.
The first thought of each of us, entering these new lands, whether
merchant, soldier, educator, or missionary, should be to hold Christ
aloft, that all tribes may come to His light, and kings to the
brightness of His rising.
God leads us on. Said Lincoln: "I have been driven many times to my
knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My
own wisdom, and that of all about me, seemed insufficient for that day."
Like a vast Hand stretched against the sky of Time is the Hand of God--a
Hand writing, in these wondrous days, a destiny for generations yet to
be! Rising with us are all God-fearing nations--the Teutonic, Slav, and
Latin peoples. Sitting yet in darkness, and massed against us, crouch
sullenly the immemorial hordes of Asia, the wild blacks of the African
swamps and jungles, and the dwellers of Polynesian seas. Occident and
Orient, the world's battalions are forming for new encounters and new
dismays. Never since the strong-limbed Goths changed the face of Europe
has there been a period of such tense anticipation, nor so great a
possibility of volcanic change. We are entering an historic period of
reconstruction, when new maps of the world will be drawn. The sceptre is
passing into new hands: to-day the throne of civilization is being
arched above the seaway which joins London and New York. To-morrow, it
may be builded above Pacific tides, where our own shores look westward
to the ports of Asiatic Russia. For, rising on the world-horizon, are
these two World-empires, Russia and the United States. The dictators of
these two countries will soon become the dictators of the human race.
They are brave and virile nations, with untold reserves of power! As
these two giants gird themselves for World-dominion, who but God shall
gird the armor on, direct the onward course of change?
Much of the ancient wealth and beauty shall be done away. In a few
generations the shrines of thirty centuries will be no more. Fane and
temple and pagoda will disappear; carvings, images, and Sikh-guarded
courts. Long lines of yellow-robed priests will chant their last
processional hymn to Buddha, and the smoking incense to waning gods
shall be quenched forever. Where Tao rites were celebrated, silence
shall fall; where fakir and dervish tortured and immolated their lives,
happy children shall play. Instead of the lotos of the Ganges and the
Nile, there shall bloom the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Vale.
But as the empires of Buddha and Muhammad fall, a new Empire shall
     "_Kings shall bow down before Him,
        And gold and incense bring;
      All nations shall adore Him,
        His praise all people sing.
      To Him shall prayer unceasing
        And dally vows ascend;
      His kingdom still increasing,
        A kingdom without end_."
IV. THE WORLD-MARCH: OF PRELATES AND EVANGELISTS
     [LYONS]
     _O Majesty throned, O Lord of all Light,
     Shine down on our spirits and scatter the night;
     As Adam received his life-impulse from Thee,
     Endued with all fulness, we quickened would be_
     _Let all that we know--love, learning, and power--
     Melt down in Thy Presence, and flame in this hour;
     Anoint us and bless us and lift our desire
     And grant us to speak as with tongues touched with fire_!
     _Life flows as a dream--its pleasures are dear:
     The world is about us--temptation is near;
     Oh, guide us, and shew us the pathway to God
     The feet of the prophets aforetime have trod_!
     _The bells cease their chime,--the hosts enter in:
     May many be purged of their sloth and their sin!
     Cheer Thou the despondent, the weary, the sad,
     Rouse all to rejoicing, that all may be glad_.
     _And when life is o'er, and each must depart
     In quaking and silence,--abide with each heart;
     The songs of Thy saints then caught up to the skies,
     As waves of great waters shall thunderous rise_!
     ANNA ROBERTSON BROWN LINDSAY
In Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_ there is the legend of the Sword of Assay.
In the church against the high altar was a great stone, four-square,
like unto a marble stone. In the midst of it was an anvil of steel, a
foot high, and therein stood a naked sword by the point. About the sword
there were letters written, saying, "Whoso pulleth out this sword of
this stone and anvil, is righteous king born of all England." Many
assayed to pull the sword forth, but all failed, until the young Arthur
came, and, taking the sword by the handle, lightly and fiercely pulled
it out of the stone! By this token he was lord of the land.
Each man's life is proved by some Sword of Assay. The test of a man's
call to the ministry is his power to seize the Sword of the Spirit:
wield the spiritual forces of the world, insight, conviction,
persuasion, truth. To do this successfully at least five things appear
to be necessary: a sterling education, marked ability in writing and in
public speaking, a noble manner, a voice capable of majestic
modulations, and a deep and tender heart. These phrases sound very
simple, but perhaps they mean more than at first appears. Have we not
all met some one, in our lifetime, whose acquaintance with us seemed to
have no preliminaries?--some one who never bothered to say anything at
all to us, until one day he said something that leaped and tingled
through our very being? This is the power that a minister ought to have
with every soul with whom he comes in contact: his word should quickly
touch a vital spot. No one to-day cares much for mere oratory, literary
discussion, polemics, or cursory exegesis; "marked ability in writing
and in public speaking" means that grip on reality which makes people
quiver, repent, believe, adore!
Sincerity is the basis of such power. At heart we worship the man who
will not lie; who will not use conventions or formulas in which he does
not believe; who does not give us a second-hand view of either life or
God; who does not play with our conscience because it is not politic to
be too direct; who does not juggle with our doubts, nor ignore our hopes
and powers; who also frankly acknowledges that he, too, is a man.
A call to the ministry also involves an over-mastering spiritual desire.
Tell me what a man wants, and I will tell what he is, and what he can
best do. If a man desires above all things to conduit a great business,
he is by nature qualified for trade; if he desires knowledge, he is
designed for a scholar; if he is always observing form, rhyme, aesthetic
beauty, and striving to produce verse, he is a born poet. But if the one
thing that rules his dreams is the longing for spiritual power--the
thought of impressing God upon his generation, and leading men to a
clearer view of life and duty--he is a born minister of the Spirit, and
to the spirit of the sons of men. Along with this goes the great burden:
"Woe is me, if I preach not the Gospel!"
Wherever, to-day, there is a young man in whose heart is stirring a
great devotional dream for the race, who longs to project his life into
the most enduring and far-reaching influence, who craves the exercise of
great gifts and powers, there is a man whose heart God is calling to
possibilities such as no one can measure, and to triumphs such as no one
can forecast! The highest triumphs of these coming years are to be
spiritual. The leader is to be the one who can carry the deepest
spiritual inspiration to the hearts of his fellow-men. Do not let the
hour go by! This day of vision is the prophetic day!
But if the call be answered, if certain high-spirited and noble-minded
men ask thus to stand as spiritual ministrants to the souls of men, how
shall they be trained for the high office?
The old way will not do. Sweeping changes, in these last days, have come
over the commercial, academic, and social world. We do not go back to
the hand-loom, the hand-sickle, the hand-press. What is true of these
aspects of life is true of the spiritual training. It must be larger,
freer, grander, than before. Time was when a theologian, it was
thought, must be separated from the world--an ascetic working in the dim
half-light of the old library, or scriptorium, or hall. To-day, he must
gain much of his training from the great life of the world--learn how to
meet men and occasions, and be prepared to deal with modern forces and
energies with courage, knowledge, and decision.
We read of the earnest Thomas Goodwin: his favorite authors were such as
Augustine, Calvin, Musculus, Zanchius, Paraeus, Walaeus, Gomarus, and
Amesius. What Doctor of Theology takes the last six of these to bed with
Our theological courses are too dry. Look carefully over the catalogues
of thirty or forty of our own seminaries, and notice the curious, almost
monastic, impression which they make. Then realize that the men who
pursue these abstruse and mediaeval subjects are the men who go out into
churches where the chief topics of thought and conversation are crops,
stocks, politics, clothes, servants, babies! There is a grim humor in
the thing, which seems to have escaped those who have drawn up the
Life is not monastic. It is very lively. We scarcely get, in all our
post-collegiate life, a chance to sit and muse. We go through
sensations, experiences, and incongruities, which stir a sense of fun. A
man reads (I notice) in his seminary, St. Leo, _Ad Flaeirmum_, and makes
his first pastoral call on a woman who proudly brings out her first
baby for him to see. _Ad Flaeirmum_ indeed! What does St. Leo tell the
youth to say?
What should be breathed into a man in the seminary, is not the mere
facts of ecclesiastical history, but the warm pulsating currents of
human life; the profound significance of the founding and the progress
of the Church; a deep psychological understanding of human desires,
motives, joys, ambitions, griefs; the relentlessness of sin; the help
and glory of Redemption; the quickening of the Christ; the vigor and the
tenderness of faith. Coincident with these must be a growth in depth and
dignity of life. No one likes to take spiritual instruction from men who
are themselves crude, foolish, sentimental, or conceited. Many social
snags on which young ministers are sure to run, are simply the rudiments
of social conduct, as practised by the world. Noble manners are one's
personal actions as influenced and guided by the great behavior of the
race. Under the impulse of ideals, much that is untoward or superficial
in one's bearing will disappear. It is impossible to think as noble men
and women have thought--to dream, love, and work as they have dreamed,
loved, and wrought--and not have pass into one's mien the high
excellence of such lives.
The first education is spiritual. Until mind and heart are swept by the
spirit of God, chastened, purified, ennobled, and inspired, vain is all
the learning of the schools! To this end, there should be a more deeply
spiritual atmosphere in our seminaries, less of the mere academic
impulse. In every age, there are men just to come in contact with whom
is a benediction and a help for years. Such a man was Mark Hopkins, Noah
Porter, James McCosh. Such the leading men in every seminary should be.
The plan of education must be of principles, not of facts. The
university research-men gather facts, and scientific men everywhere
collect, analyze, and classify them. But each small department of human
learning--each minute branch in that department--needs a lifetime for
the mastery of that one theme. Hence the work of the college is quite
apart from that of the school of theology. It is the place of the school
of theology, not to ignore the New Learning, but to group, upon the
basis of a thorough college training, certain great interests and
pursuits of mankind, in such a way as to afford, by means of them, a
leverage for spiritual work.
After all is said and done, it is not the grammar-detail of Latin,
Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic dialects that makes a minister's power. It is
the strange language-culture of the race which should enter in; the
inner vitality of words, the beauty of poetic cadences, the strong flow
of rhythm, noble themes, great thoughts, impressive imagery and appeal.
We should know the Bible as literature, not as one knows a story-book,
or a dialect-exercise, but as one knows the melodies and memories of
The vital thing is not a knowledge of the historical schisms and decrees
of Christendom--not the external Evidences of Religion, Ecclesiastical
History, Ecclesiastical Polity, monuments, texts, memorabilia--the vital
thing is the power to think about God, and the problems of mankind. It
is a heart-knowledge of the difficulties and questionings of a race that
yearns for virtue.
Man thirsts for God. No one is wholly indifferent to the Spirit. I fear
that some ministers do not know--and never will know--the heart-hunger
of the world. When they rise to speak, there is always some one present
whose breath is hushed with longing to hear spoken some real word of
truth, or strength, or comfort. If he receive but chaff!--
Theology is not a dry thing, and ought not be made so. It is quick with
the life of the race. Each dogma is a mile-stone of human progress. It
is the sifted and garnered wisdom of the centuries, concerning God, and
His ways with men. Each student should feel, not that a system is being
driven into him, as piles are driven into the stream, but that he is
being put in philosophic contact with the thought of the race on the
great topic of Religion, with liberty himself to experiment, think, and
add to the store.
Homiletics is not a series of nursery-rules for man--formal, didactic
droppings of a pedant's tongue. Homiletics is the appeal of man to man,
for the welfare of his soul, and the true progress of mankind. Exegesis
is not a matter of Hebrew or Greek alone. It includes the spiritual
interpretation of the great problems of the race. Homer, Tennyson,
Browning, and Dante are exegetes, no less than Lightfoot, Lange,
Pastoral Divinity is not the etiquette of a polite way of making calls:
it is an entering into the social spirit of the time; the learning of
friendliness, unreserve, sympathy, persuasion, and a way of approach. It
is the mastery of spiritual _savoir-faire_.
Outside of this group of technical subjects there are yet others of
vital importance from a scientific understanding of the world, and of
one's work. They are Psychology, Ethics, Sociology, and Politics.
Since we have known more of the psychological meaning of adolescence, a
new theory of Conversion has sprung up; and whether or not we accept it,
the whole outlook over the underlying principle of conversion has been
changed. We must at least recognize that conversion is a scientific
process, as much as digestion is, or respiration; it is not a purely
emotional occurrence.
The minister must learn what society really is, and how the far still
forces of time act and react upon each other, producing group-actions,
institutions, customs, ways. There are social fossils as well as
physical ones. Sociology is not a system of fads and reforms. It is the
scientific study of society, of its constitution, development,
institutions, and growth. He must also breathe largely of the great
governmental life of the race--understand the primary principles of
politics and administration. He should have some knowledge of commercial
interests, of the formulas, incentives, and right principles of trade.
There should also be in the seminary an inspirational atmosphere of
music, literature, and art. Literature is a revelation of the life of
the soul. The man who reads literature and comprehends its message is
receiving a fine training which shall fit him for a thorough
understanding of the heart; of its practical, ethical, and spiritual
problems; of its domestic joys and sorrows; of its human cares and
burdens; of the appeals that will come to him for sympathy; of the
temptations that beset the race; and of the hopes and trials of
Literature is one of the best tools a minister can have. He should be
read in the great literary and sermonic literature, the work of Bossuet,
Massillon, Chrysostom, Augustine, Fenelon, Marcus Aurelius, mediaeval
homilies, Epictetus, Pascal, Guyon, Amiel, Vinet, La Brunetiere, Phelps,
Jeremy Taylor, Barrows, Fuller, Whitefield, Bushnell, Edwards, Bacon,
Newman, Ruskin, Carlyle, Emerson, Davies, Law, Bunyan, Luther, Spalding,
Robertson, Kingsley, Maurice, Chalmers, Guthrie, Stalker, Drummond,
Maclaren, Channing, Beecher, and Phillips Brooks, yes, even John Stuart
Mill. All these men, by whatever name or school they are called, are
writers of essays or sermons which appeal to the most spiritual deeps
He should read the novels of Richter, Thackeray, Dickens, Scott, Eliot,
and Victor Hugo. He should know intimately the great verse which
involves spiritual problems, and human strife and aspiration,--Milton,
Beowulf, Caedmon, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Spenser, ballads, sagas, the
Arthur-Saga, the Nibelungenlied, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats, Herbert,
Tennyson, Browning, Dante and Christina Rossetti, Whittier, Lowell,
Longfellow, to say nothing of Goethe, Corneille, and the Greek, Roman,
Persian, Egyptian, Hindu, and Arabian verse.
In music his heart should wake to the beauty of oratorios, symphonies,
chorals, concert music, national and military music, and inspiring
songs, not to speak of hymns and of anthems, the progress of Christian
song! The _Creation_, the _Messiah_, the _Redemption_, Bach's _Passion
Music_, the _St. Cecilia Mass_, Spohr's _Judgment_, Stainer's
_Resurrection_, the _Twelfth Mass_, Mendelssohn's _Elijah_,--these are
monumental works and themes.
What is a hymn? We think of it as being some simple churchly words, set
to a serious tune. A hymn is the rhythmic aspiration of the race. No one
can look through a good hymnal--through _Hymns Ancient and Modern_, for
instance, or the Church Hymnary--without feeling that therein is bound
up the devotional life of the world. The spiritual outlook is cosmic.
Our every mood of penitence, praise, and aspiration resounds in
melodious and time-defying strains.
In art, the religious spirit broods over the great work of the world. In
Angelo, Francesca, Veronese, Botticelli, Titian, Raphael, Tintoretto,
and Correggio, the brush of the painter has set forth the adoration of
the Church of God.
Thus, taken all in all, to be educated as a minister should be to be
educated in the Higher Life of the race.
Finally, above all else is the spiritual study and interpretation of the
Word of God. A minister may be fearless of the investigations of
scientific criticism. Every truth is important to him, but not all
truths are vital. When a man such as Caspar Rene Gregory speaks,
something of the holy mystery and inspiration of biblical research, as
well as a scientific result, is presented, and one gains a new
conception of what it really means to study and to understand the
Word of God.
Under all is the life of ceaseless and prevailing prayer. By the life of
prayer, many mean merely a way of learning to make public petitions, an
objective appeal to God. The true life of prayer is as simple, as
unteachable, and as vital as the life of a child with its mother--the
little lips daily learning new ways of approach to its mother's heart,
and new words to make its wants and interests and sorrows known.
Prayer is the true World-Power. Just as there are vast stretches in the
world where the foot of man has never trod, so there are unmeasured
regions whereon prayer has never been. The more we pray, the more
illimitable appears this spiritual realm. And all about us in the
universe are also great hidden forces: nothing will lay hold of them
Each prayer enlarges the soul. The measure of our praying is the measure
of our growth. No man has reached his full possibilities of achievement
who has not completed the circuit of his possible prayers. Power is
proportionate to prayer.
And last of all, there is the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. What it
is, who may say? But that it is real, who can doubt? To read the lives
of Wesley, Whitefield, Finney, Moody, is to feel a strange, deep thrill.
They are men who spake, and men listened; who called, and men came to
God. Others, alas, so often call, and there is no response. They cannot
make headway through the indifference, the sloth, the materialism, and
the inherent vulgarity of the world.
The life itself is arduous. After all is said, it is not quite the same
task to examine and classify either protoplasm or the most highly
organized forms of nature, that it is to analyze and understand the
mysterious workings of the heart, the intricacies of conscience and
conduct, the possibilities of spiritual development or of moral
downfall, and the many questionings, agonies, and ecstasies of the soul
of man. And they are to be studied and understood with the definite and
positive aim of the absolute reconstruction of the world-bound spirit--a
change of its motives, purposes, affections, ideals. More than this,
there must be at the heart of the more thoughtful minister a philosophic
basis for the reconstruction of society itself.
Youth is not an adequate preparation for this task: a man must live and
grow. To deal with such themes and occasions, there must appear in the
world lives of such vigor that they can command; of such charm, that
they can attract; of such wisdom, that they can guide and comfort; of
such vitality, that they can inspire. And hence there rises before the
mind's eye a figure that is both knightly and kingly--a man earnest in
the redress of wrong, and who yet holds a subtle authority over the
forces that make for wrong; a man burdened with the cares and sorrows of
many others, and yet conducting his own life with serenity, enthusiasm,
dignity, and hope; a man to whose keen yet tender gaze a life-history
is revealed by a word or tone, but whose own eyes receive their light
from God. A prophet and a father, a priest and a counsellor, a brother,
friend, and judge, a sacrifice and an inspiration should he be who, in
reverence and love, brings before a waiting congregation the very
Word of Life!
SECOND: OF SPIRITUAL RULE
1. The primary rule is over conscience. The man who sways a conscience
sways a human life. The man who sways a nation's conscience controls
that nation's life. To rule conscience, a man must himself be
unprejudiced and well informed. He must strive, not to keep up an
unhealthy excitement which shall make conscience introspective and
morbid, but to preserve a sane moral outlook, to encourage freedom of
thought and judgment, and to develop a normal conscience which reacts
promptly against wrong. Conscience measures our inner recoil from evil.
The power of a preacher is in direct proportion to the energy with which
he reveals sin in the heart of man, and wakes his whole nature against
its insidious power.
Sin is. To-day, sin is thought a somewhat brusque word, lacking in
polish. To use it frequently is a mark of lack of '_savoir-faire_!
Indeed to speak of it at all is as archaic as to speak of the
Ichthyosaurus. But sin is a root-fact of the life of man. It is the
office of the spiritual teacher to pluck out sin; to pierce the heart
with a recognition of the enormity of sin, and of its far-reaching
consequences; to stir the seared conscience, rouse the apathetic life,
thrill the spiritual imagination, and to quicken the heart to better
love and to nobler dreams. He rebukes the private sins of individuals
and the public sins of nations. In the _Faerie Queene_, the
"soul-diseased knight" was in a state
     "_In which his torment often was so great,
      That like a lyon he would cry and rare,
      And rend his flesh, and his own synewes eat_."
But Fidelia, like the faithful pastor, was both
                         "_able with her word to kill,
     And raise againe to life the heart that she did thrill_."
This power has at times been misunderstood and misapplied. No human
authority can bind the conscience, nor set rules and regulations for the
soul of man. The prerogative of final direction belongs to God alone. No
man may arrogate it--no pastor for people, no husband for wife, no wife
for husband, no parent for child. The sadness of the world has been,
that men have not always been spiritually free. Freedom has been a
social growth--a phase of progress. It has taken wars and persecutions,
revolutions and reformations, the blood of saints and martyrs, the
sorrow of ages, to plant this precept in the mind of man.
The evangelist warns. He speaks of sin, death, hell, and the judgment
to come. It is for these things that he is sent to testify. These are
not the catch-words of a new sort of Fear King who uses oral terrors to
affright the soul of man. Heaven and hell are not a new sort of
ghost-land: retribution is not a larger way of tribal revenge.
No. The latest facts of science present this universe as not only
progressive, but as retributive. There is a rebound of evil which makes
for pain. Each broken law exacts a penalty. Each deed of sin is a
forerunner of personal and of social disaster. The generation that sins
shall be cut off, while the stock of the righteous grows strong from
The scientific vista opening to the eye of man is impressive and
appalling. Each man has within himself a future of joy or sadness for
the race. Do you remember the sermon of Horace Bushnell on the
"Populating Power of the Christian Faith"? Do you recall the history of
the infamous Jukes family? That of the seven devout and noble
generations of the Murrays? The Day of Judgment is not only the Last
Great Day--it is to-day and every day. "Every day is Doomsday," says
Emerson. Nature is unforgetful. Nature is accountant. Each iniquity must
be paid for out of the resources of the race.
It is of these grave omens that the Man of God must speak. He dare not
be tongue-tied by custom or by fear. He must proclaim hell in the ears
of all mankind. For wherever hell may be, and we do not yet know, and
whatever hell may be, and we cannot even imagine, Hell _is_; and the
soul of man must be kept mindful of these great things.
The evangelist comforts and consoles. The heart of man is wayward and
goes oft astray. No one can be belabored into righteousness. The true
lover of souls allows for the hereditary weaknesses of man, for his
infirmities of will and temper, for his excuses, wanderings, and tears,
and presents to him Jesus, in whose sight no one is too wretched to be
received, too wicked to be forgiven.
We must have forgiveness in order to know God. The most comforting
thought in the world is that God knows all we do. There can be no
misunderstanding between us: He cannot be misinformed.
The evangelist must come close, in sympathy and counsel, to the personal
and individual life of those whom he would help. Perhaps the best way to
emphasize this point would be to insert here words written by a woman
who has been thinking on this subject.
She says: "I have never had a pastor. It is the one good thing lacking
in my life. I have grown up among ministers, and have had many friends
among them--some of them have cared for me. But there has never been one
among them all who stood in an attitude of spiritual authority and
helpfulness to my life. We church-going and Christian men and women of
the educated class are almost wholly let alone; apparently no one takes
thought for our souls. We are not in the least infallible; we come face
to face with fierce temptations; we have heart-breaking sorrows; we are
burdened with anxiety and perplexity. But we are left to grope as blind
sheep; there is no one to point out the path to us, however dimly; no
one to say, at any crucial moment of our lives, Walk here!
"Once, however," she continues, "one of my friends, a minister, knelt
down by me and prayed. It was a simple and ordinary occasion--others
were present. But every word of that prayer was meant for the uplifting
of my heart. In that hour, I was as if overshadowed by the Holy Ghost;
new aims and purposes were born within me. My friend loves me--that does
not matter--it is his spiritual intensity I care for. And this is his
reward for his fidelity and tenderness: In the hour when I come to die,
when one does not ask for father or mother, or husband or wife, or
brother or sister, or friend or child, but only for the strong comfort
of the man of God--in that hour, I say, if I be at all able to make my
wishes known, I shall send for that man to come to me. He, and no other,
shall present my soul to God."
Reading the above words, more than one minister will cry out, his eyes
blazing: "I say the same to you! Who is there that tries to shield the
minister from sorrow and from pain? Who is there to comfort and help
_him_? You think we can just go on, and preach, preach, preach, standing
utterly alone, and with no one on earth to keep our own hearts close to
God! I tell you, it is a lonely and weary work at times, this being a
Yes, there must be a people, as well as a pastor. The relation is
reciprocal. Wherever there is a strong man, leaning down in fire and
tenderness to help the lives about him, there must be a loyal and loving
congregation, with here and there in it some one who more fully
appreciates and understands. Nothing beats down and discourages a man
more than to feel that he is preaching to cold air and not to human
folks, and to get back, when he offers sympathy, a stare.
A congregation is a mysterious and subtle social force. Its effect on a
minister he can neither analyze nor explain. But he knows that its power
is mesmeric and cannot be escaped. He goes into its presence from an
hour of exalted and uplifted prayer, serene, happy, strong, and prepared
to speak words of power and life. Gazing at his people--he can never
tell why--the words freeze on his lips. An icy hand seems laid upon his
heart, and he makes a cold and formal presentation of his glowing theme,
and wonders who or what has done it all. Something satanic and
repelling has laid hold of his tongue and brain.
Or again, he may have had a worried and troubled week, full of personal
anxiety and sorrow. He has not had full time to study--he feels quite
unprepared, and enters the pulpit with a halting step, and a choking
fear of failure at his heart.
In a moment, the world changes. Something imperceptible, but sweet and
comforting, steals over him,--an uplifting atmosphere of attention,
sympathy, affection. He begins to speak, very quietly at first, with
quite an effort. But the congregation leads him on, to deeper thoughts,
to nobler words, to modulations of voice that carry him quite beyond
himself. His voice rises, and every syllable is firm and musical. His
language springs from some far centre of inspiration. He is conscious of
superb power, and as sentence after sentence falls from his
lips----sentences that amaze himself more than any other----he enters
into the supreme height of joy, that of being a spiritual messenger to
the hearts of longing men and women. He and they together talk of God.
This sympathetic atmosphere makes great preachers and great men. In
return, there flows from a pastor toward his people a love that few can
know or understand.
2. His rule is also over spiritual enthusiasm. What is a revival? We
confound it with a local excitement, a community-sensation of an
hysterical and passing type--with sensational disturbances, falling
exercises, shouts, weeping, and the like. A revival is something far
different. A revival is an awakening of the community heart and mind. It
is a quickening of dead, backsliding, or inattentive souls.
Man as an individual is quite a different person from the same man in a
crowd. One is himself alone; the other is himself, plus the influence of
the Social Mind. A revival is a social state, in which the social
religious enthusiasm is stirred up. It is a lofty form of religion, just
as the patriotism which breaks forth in tears and cheers as troops go
out to war is a finer type than the mere excitement and fervor of one
patriotic man. What would the Queen's Jubilee have been, if but one
soldier had marched up and down? A great commemoration! If we grant the
reality of national rejoicing in the royal jubilees, commercial
rejoicing in business men's processions, university enthusiasm on
Commencement Day--shall we not grant the reality of the religious
interest and enthusiasm of a great revival, in which whole communities
shall be led to a clearer knowledge of spiritual things?
The Crusades were a magnificent revival. The Reformation was a revival.
The Salvation Army movement is a revival. But the greatest revival of
all times is even now upon us: it is a revival in the scientific
circles of the race. Time was when science and religion were supposed to
be at odds; to-day the intellectual phalanxes are sweeping Christward
with an impetus that is sublime! Thinkers are finding in the large life
of religion a motive power for their thought, their growth--a reason for
their existence--a forecast of their destiny. We are beginning to
realize the dynamic value of Belief. This revival is coming, not with
shouts and noise, but with the quiet insistence of new ideas, of new
facts--with the still voice of scientific announcement. The atheist is
being overcome, not by emotion, but by evidence; the scoffer is being
put down by cool logic.
Hence the evangelist of to-day is more than a man who can popularly
address a public audience, and by tales and tears arouse a weeping
commotion. The evangelist is a man of intellect and prayer, who can
preach the gospel to a scientific age, and to a thinking coterie--a
coterie of college men and mechanics, of society women and
servant-girls, of poets and of mine-diggers, of convicts and of
reformers. To-day calls for the utmost intellectual resources of the
teacher of the truth, for a great imagination, great style, great
sympathy with men, large learning, and unceasing prayer!
3. His rule is over social ideals. He must be a man of social insight.
The social spirit is abroad in the world, but it is woefully erratic
and misguided. Any one thinks he can be an altruist. Why not? Take a
class in a college settlement, make some bibs for a day nursery, give
tramps a C.O.S. card, with one's compliments, and attend about six
lectures a year on Philanthropy--the lectures very good indeed. One is
then a full-fledged altruist, _n'est-ce pas_?
The philanthropy of to-day has a bewildering iridescence of aspect. Each
present impulse is reformatory. Correction, like a centipede, shows a
hundred legs and wants to run upon them all. Much of the so-called
philanthropy is not well balanced and is run by cranks. Cranks attach
themselves to any social movement, as a shaggy gown will gather burrs.
It is not all of philanthropy to classify degenerates, titter at
ignorance, and to go a-peeping through the slums! We have not yet
realized the fulness of redemption. Of what avail is it to save one
street-Arab, or one Chinaman, if a million Arabs and Chinamen remain
unsaved? Redemption is a race-savior: it seizes not only the individual,
but his environment, his friends, and his future state.
The true minister is a reformer. A reformer is one who re-crystallizes
the social ideals of man, who breaks up idols and bad customs, and
sweeps away abuses. But we must first ask: What is an idol? What is a
bad custom? What is an abuse? They are social standards which are out of
harmony with true concepts of God, life, and duty. Behind the work of
the reformer is the dream of the reformer, the meditation of the mystic,
the seer. He must first have in mind a plain, clear conception of what
the relation is of man to God, of what man's environment should be, and
of what the society of the Kingdom should be. The reformer is one who
changes an existing social environment for approximately this ideal
environment of his own thought. When he breaks an idol, it is not the
idol itself that he everlastingly hates, it is the materialistic concept
of the community. What he wishes in place of the idol is a right
conception. No man could break up every idol in the Sandwich Islands.
But a man went about implanting a spiritual idea of God, and the idols
disappeared.
Hence the work of the reformer is deep and heart-searching work. It
means constant study of the spiritual needs of the age, continual
insight into the material forces which are moulding the age-images,
money, conquest, or whatever they may be. He wishes to maintain a
spiritual hold on civilization itself, so to transform the ideal within
a man, a community, a nation, in regard to custom, observance, belief,
that the outer rite shall follow.
To reform is not to rush through the slums, and then preach a
sensational sermon about bad places in the slums, of which most people
never knew before! To reform is to know something of the conditions
which produce the slums--it is not to scatter the slum-people broadcast
elsewhere in the town; it is not alone to give them baths, playgrounds,
circulating libraries of books and pictures, dancing-parties, and social
clubs. To reform the slums is to set up a new ideal of God, and of
righteous conduct in the heart of the slum-dwellers. One must know
something of the slow processes of social change, of social
assimilation, growth, and stability, to have an intellectual perception
of the problem, as well as a spiritual one. One does not make an ill-fed
child strong by stuffing five pounds of oatmeal down its throat!
The reformer must not only be a man of energy, he must be a man of
patience. Great reforms come slowly. As man has advanced, idleness,
indolence, brutality, tyranny, drunkenness, cant, and social scorn are
gradually being cast out. But behind these simple words lie hid
centuries of strife and endeavor, and limitless darkenings of
To fly against vice is merely to invite enmity and opposition. To
present a pure and noble ideal, to breathe forth a holy atmosphere for
the soul, are constructive works. The trouble is not, that the ministers
preach on social themes--all themes that concern the life of man are
social themes. It is that they do piece-work and patch-work of reform,
instead of plain, direct upbuilding work in the souls and consciences of
men. To preach upon horse-stealing is one thing. The horse-stealer may
be impressed, convicted, made penitent, and return the stolen horse. But
not until his heart is imbued with a spiritual conception of honesty, as
the law of God, will he steal a stray horse no more. Hence the first
questions in reform are not: How many groggeries are there in my parish?
How many corrupt polls? How many hypocrites on my church-roll? The
question is: How is my parish society in enmity to the highest spiritual
ideal I know? Many men preach about saloons, when they ought to be
preaching about Christ.
The force of this reform-energy is uncomputed. We hear of occasional
great reformers, but forget that there has been a prevailing influence
extending over the ages, of holy men of God, who have preached and
taught and prayed; who have preserved our social institutions of
spiritual import, and have been a mighty and continuous force working
for righteousness and peace.
Missions are a higher form of politics. To further missions is to
further government, international comity, world-peace.
4. His rule is over creed. He is inevitably a teacher of doctrine.
What is doctrine? Doctrine is spiritual truth, formulated in a
systematic way. It is also, in church matters, a system of truth which
has been believed in, and clung to, by a body of believers constituting
some branch of the catholic Church.
It is a noble and serious office to hand down from generation to
generation the faith and traditions of the Church of God. But this
handing-down must be upright. "You must bind nothing upon your charges,"
says Jeremy Taylor, "but what God hath bound upon you." Conviction is at
the root of the lasting traditions of the Church. Only this--his
conviction--can one man really teach another. If he try to speak
otherwise, he shall have a lolling and unsteady tongue.
No soul is finally held by the indefinite, or the namby-pamby. It begins
to question, Upon what foundation does this phrase, this fine sentiment,
rest? It must stand upon a proposition. This proposition rests either
upon a scientific fact, or upon that which, for want of a more definite
term, we call the religious instinct of man. But a proposition cannot
standalone. It is connected with other propositions, arguments,
conclusions. Hence a system of logic, of philosophy, of expressed
belief, of doctrine, inevitably grows up in a thinking community, a
thinking Church.
The statement of an ecclesiastical system of doctrine may not be the
absolutely true one, nor the final one. Doctrine changes, even as
scientific theories change with fuller information. Doctrine also
expands, with the growth of the human spirit and understanding. To-day,
in one's library, one has a thousand books. They are shelved and
catalogued, for reference, in a special order. But years hence, one's
grandson, who inherits these books, may have ten thousand books. The
aspect of the library is changed. It is filled with new volumes, and new
thought. Shall we give a liberty to a man's library which we refuse to
his belief? Must he--and his church--have only his grandfather's ideas,
standards, and decrees?
The tenets of a sect are the theological arrangement of belief which for
the present seems best; it is the systematic arrangement of facts so far
examined, determined, and classified. But no system of theology can be
final. Thought is moving on. Experience is progressive. Providence is
continually revealing. The race is a creed-builder, as well as a builder
of pyramids, cathedrals, and triumphal arches.
The building-up of doctrine is superb. Into doctrine are woven the
intellectual beliefs, the emotional experiences, and the spiritual
struggles of mankind. Doctrine is an attempt to classify the spiritual
problems of the race and to present a theory of redemption which shall
be adequate, spiritually progressive, and the exact expression, so far
as yet revealed, of the will of God for man. All Christian doctrine is
centred about one point: the redemption of the race from sin. Dealing
with such great and fundamental themes, each system of doctrine is an
intellectual triumph.
Doctrine is an intellectual necessity. Christ is not sporadic, either in
history or philosophy. To teach Christ, as the unlettered savage may
who has just learned of Christ the Saviour and turns to teach his
fellow-savages, might do good or save a soul from death. But in order to
command the intellectual respect of the race, there must be another form
of teaching yet than this, a teaching which presents Christ in the
historic and philosophic setting: the central Figure in a great body of
associated spiritual truth; Christ as the fulfilment of prophecy, the
means of social adjustment and regeneration; the Finisher of our Faith,
and the Source of eternal joy. We must be, not less spiritual
Christians, but increasingly intellectual ones, as time rolls on.
Who are the men who have built up doctrine? Men speak as if doctrine
were an ecclesiastical toy--to be shaken by priest or prelate, as one
shakes a rattle, for noise, for play! A doctrine is not a toy; it is the
crystallized belief of earnest, thoughtful, and godly men--belief which
has passed into a church tradition, and is now received as an act
Shall doctrine be taught a child? Yes! To have a specific doctrine
clearly in mind does not fetter the young soul, any more than to be
taught the apparent facts of geography and history, which may change
either in reality or in his own interpretation as his mind matures. A
doctrine is a practical and definite thing to work with; in later life
to believe, and to approve of, or disbelieve, and disapprove of. If a
man wishes to build a house, does it fetter him to know square measure,
cubic contents, geometry, mensuration, and mechanical laws? Yet when he
builds his house, he builds it in his own individual way; he stamps it
with his own personality and ideas. While building it, perchance, he
discovers some new relation or geometric law.
Doctrine does not save from hell, but it does save from many a snare
that besets the feet of man. It is a steadier of life, a strengthener of
hope, a stalwart aid to a practical, devout, and duty-doing life. A
catechism is a system of doctrine expressed in its simplest form.
Therefore, for the intellectual and moral training of the Church, let us
have sound doctrine in the pulpit, and the catechism in the home and
Sabbath-school.
It is objected that doctrinal terminology is too hard for a child to
understand. Is this not absurd, when the same child can come home from
school and talk glibly of a parallelepipedon, a rhombus, rhomboid,
polyhedral angle, archipelago, law of primogeniture, the binomial
theorem, and of a dicotyledon! He also learns French, German, Latin,
Greek, and the _argot_ of the public school!
The theological leader of to-day cannot be a creed-monger: he must be a
creed-maker. Side by side with the executive officers who will
reorganize the Christian forces, there will stand great creed-makers,
giant theologians, firm, logical, scientific, and convincing, who, out
of the vast array of new facts brought forth by modern science, will
produce new creeds, a new catechism, a new dogmatic series. It is worth
while to live in these days--to know the possibility of such monumental
constructive work in one's own lifetime. The creed-makers must have a
thorough literary training; no mere vocabulary of philosophy will
answer. Like the Elizabethan divines, they must rule the living word,
which shall echo for a century yet to come.
As the great Ecumenical Council was convened for missionary progress, so
the times are now ripe for the assembling of a historic Theological
Council, to revise and restate, not one denominational catechism, but
the creed of Christendom; to provide a new literary expression of the
Christian faith. Together we are working in God's world, and for
His kingdom.
If doctrine be the crystallized thought and belief of godly men, what is
heresy? What is schism? Who is dictator of doctrine? How far are the
limits of authority to be pressed? What are the bounds of ecclesiastical
control? of intellectual mandate in the Christian Church?
In the academic world, we do not cast a man out of his mathematical
chair because he can also work in astro-physics or in psycho-physics. If
he can pursue advanced research in an allied or applied field, it will
help him in his regular and prescribed work. We do not cast an English
professor out of his chair, because he announces that there are two
manuscripts of Layamon's _Brut_, and that the text of Beowulf has been
many times worked over, before we have received it in its present form.
Yet there are accredited professors of English who do not know these
facts, and who, if called upon, could neither prove them nor disprove
them. They have not worked in the Bodleian, in the British Museum, or in
other foreign libraries, on Old English texts and authorities. They
think themselves well up in Old English if they can translate the text
of Beowulf fairly well, remember its most difficult vocabulary, and can
tell a tale or two from the _Brut_.
Not every man has Europe or Asia in his backyard, nor a lifetime of
leisure for research, for special learning, on the moot questions of
church-scholarship. Progress consists in each man's doing his best to
advance the interests of the kingdom of God in his own special sphere.
From others he must take something for granted. The ear of the Church
ought always to be open to the sayings of the specialist. A Church
should grant liberty of research, of thought, of speech--to a degree.
But whatever may come out of twentieth-century or thirtieth-century
combats, one thing remains clear: A Church is an organization, a social
body, with a certain doctrine to proclaim, a certain faith to hand down
to men. The doctrine is not in all details final--each phase of faith
may change. But the organization, to protect its own purity and
integrity--however generous in allowing individual research, and the
expression of individual ideas--must exert authority over the teachers
in her midst, those who are called by her name, who have her children in
their charge, and for whose teaching the Church, as a whole, is
responsible. There is doubtless a time when the man who is really in
advance of his times intellectually must be misunderstood, must be
disagreed with, must be cast out. But all truth may await the verdict of
time. If he has discovered something new, something true, the centuries
will make it plain. There remains a chance--and the Church dare not risk
too great a chance--that he is mistaken, impious, presumptuous, or
self-deceived. We dare not rush to a new doctrine or spiritual
conception, merely because one man, who knows more of a certain kind of
learning than we do, has said so. One must be bolstered up by a
generation of convinced and believing men, before he can draw a Church
after him. No other process is intellectually legitimate. In any other
event ecclesiastical anarchy would reign. To maintain the historic
position of the Church is a necessity, until that position is proven
untrue. So to maintain it is not bigotry, it is not lack of charity; it
is merely common-sense.
The question, Where is the line between ecclesiastical integrity and
individual freedom? is therefore one which the common-sense of
Christendom is left to solve--not to-day, not to-morrow, but gradually,
generously, and conscientiously, as the centuries go on.
THIRD: OBSTACLES AND OPPORTUNITY
It is said that a minister is greatly handicapped to-day in all his
efforts for two reasons: First, that the times are spiritually
lethargic, that men are so engrossed by material aims, indifference, or
sin that a pastor can get no hold upon their hearts. Second, that he is
bound hand and foot by conditions existing in the organization and
personnel of his church, and hence is not free to act.
What would we think of an electrician who would complain that a storm
had cast down his network of wires? Of a civil engineer who would lament
that the mountain over which he was asked to project a road was steep?
Of a doctor who would grieve that hosts of people about him were very
ill? Of a statesman who would cry out that horrid folks opposed him? It
is the work of the specialist to meet emergencies, and it is his
professional pride to triumph over difficult conditions. The harder his
task, the more he exults in his power of success.
It is a glorious task that lies before the minister of to-day--to
maintain, develop, and uplift the spiritual life of the most wonderful
epoch of the world's history; to place upon human souls that vital
touch that shall hold their powers subject to eternal influences and
aims. The times are not wholly unfavorable: our era, which spurns many
ecclesiastical forms, is at heart essentially religious. _The World for
Christ!_ How this war-cry of the spirit thrills anew as one realizes how
much more there is to win to-day than ever before. The Warrior girds
himself and longs eagerly to marshal great, shining, active hosts
It is true that the conditions of work are more trying than they have
usually been. A man goes out from the seminary. He has had a good
education, followed by perhaps a year or two abroad, and some practical
experience in sociological work. He has plans, ideas, ideals, a vigorous
and whole-souled personality, a frank and generous heart.
What does he find? He soon discovers that the battle is not always to
the strong, the educated, or the well-bred. Too often he is at the mercy
of rich men who can scarcely put together a grammatical sentence; of
poorer men who are, in church affairs, unscrupulous politicians; of
women who carp and gossip; and of all sorts of men and women who desire
to rule, criticise, hinder, and distrain. They, too, are the very people
who, in the ears of God and of the community, have vowed to love him and
to uphold his work! The more intellectual and spiritual he is, the more
he is troubled and distressed.
Many churches, too, are in a chronic state of internal war. As for
these rising church difficulties--try to put out a burning bunch of
fire-crackers with one finger, and you have the sort of task he has in
hand. While one point of explosion is being firmly suppressed, other
crackers are spitting and going off. Whichever way he turns, and
whatever he does, something pops angrily, and a new blaze begins! And
this business, incredibly petty as it is, blocks the progress of the
Christian faith. Men and women of education and refinement, of a wide
outlook and noble thoughts and deeds, are more and more unwilling to
place themselves on the church-roll; a minister sometimes finds himself
in the anomalous position of having the more cultured, congenial, and
philanthropic people of the community quite outside any church
organization.
All these things mean, not that a minister must grow discouraged, but
that he must set his teeth, and with pluck and endurance rise strong and
masterful and say, This shall not be! Let him not listen to the barking
and baying: let him hearken to the great primal voices of man and
nature. Love lies deeper than discord. The constructive forces of
humanity are stronger than the disintegrative. The right
attraction binds.
There are some men who by the sheer force of their personality subdue
their church difficulties. They hold the captious in awe. By a sort of
magnetic persuasion and lively sense of humor they soothe this one and
that, win the regard of the outlying community, attach many new members
to the organization, and build up, out of discordant and erstwhile
discontented elements, a harmonious and active church. This is the man
for these martial times! If there are born leaders in every other
department of the world's work, men who quietly but firmly assert their
authority and supremacy in the tasks in which they hold, by free
election or legitimate appointment, a place at the head--it ought to be
so in the Church of God! I long to see arise in the ministry _a race
There are other difficulties, seldom spoken of, of which one must write
frankly, though with the keenest sympathy, if one is to look deeply into
the modern church problem. First: Is a minister's environment favorable
to his best personal development? Does he not miss much from the lack of
the world's hearty give-and-take? He gets criticism, but not of a just
or all-round kind. Small things may be pecked at, trifles may be made
mountains of by the disgruntled, but where does he get a clear-sighted,
whole-hearted estimate of himself and his work? Who tells him of his
real virtues, his real faults? Among all his friends, who is there, man
or woman, who is brave enough to be true?
Other men are soon shaken into place. Their personal traits continually
undergo a process of chiselling and adjustment. They are told
uncomfortable things how quickly! At the club, in the university, in
the market, the ploughing-field, the counting-room, they rub up against
each other, and no mercy is shown by man to man until primary signs of
crudeness are worn off. Let a conceited professor get in a college
chair! Watch a hundred students begin their delightful and salutary
process of "taking him down" by the sort of mirth in which college boys
excel! Their unkindness is not right, but the result is, they never
molest a man who is merely eccentric.
Watch a scientific association jump with all fours upon a man who has
just read a paper before their body! How unsparingly they analyze and
criticise! He has to meet questions, opposition, comments, shafts of wit
and envy, jovial teasing and correction. He goes out from the meeting
with a keener love of truth and exactness, and a less exalted idea of
his own powers. Watch the rivalry and sparring that go on in any
business. Men meet men who attack them; they fight and overcome them, or
are themselves overcome.
Human friction is not always harmful. A minister should not be hurt or
angered by disagreement and discussion. No one's ideas are final. Let
him expect to stand in the very midst of a high-strung, spirited, and
hard-working generation. Let him be turned out of doors. Let him travel,
look, learn, meet men and women, and conquer in the arena of manhood.
Then, by means of this undaunted manhood, he may the better guide the
fiery enthusiasms of men, inspire their higher ambitions, and comfort
them in their bitter human sorrows!
Again, too often a minister is spoiled in his first charge by flattery,
polite lies, and gushing women. He is sadly overpraised. A bright young
fellow comes from the seminary. He can preach; that is, he can prepare
interesting essays, chiefly of a literary sort, which are pleasant to
listen to, though, in the nature of things, they can have scarcely a
word in them of that deep, life-giving experience and counsel which come
from the hearts of men and women who have lived, and know the truth of
life. He is told that these sermons are "lovely," "beautiful," "_so_
inspiring," and he believes every word of praise. No one says to him,
"When you know more, you will preach better," and his standard of
excellence does not advance. This man, who might have become a great
preacher, remains, as years go on, alas! an intellectual potterer.
He is also socially made too much of, being one of the very few men
available for golf and afternoon teas, suppers, picnics, tennis,
charity-bazaars. Other men are frankly too busy for much of these
things, except for healthful recreation; and not infrequently one finds
stray ministers absolutely the only men at some function to which men
have been invited.
A minister is not a parlor-pet. How many a time an energetic man,
society-bound, must long to kick over a few afternoon tea-tables, and
smash his way out through bric-a-brac and chit-chat to freedom
I should think that a real Man in the ministry would get so very tired
of women! They tell him all their complaints and difficulties, from
headaches, servants, and unruly children, to their sentimental
experiences and their spiritual problems. Men tell him almost nothing.
Watch any group of men talking, as the minister comes in. A moment
before they were eager, alert, argumentative. Now they are polite or
mildly bored. He is not of their world. Some assert that he is not even
of their sex! Hence the lips of men are too often sealed to the
minister. He must find some way not only to meet them as brother to
brother, but he must capture their inmost hearts. The shy confidence of
an honorable man once won, his friendship never fails.
The question of a minister's relation to the women of his congregation
and the community is not only curious and complex--it is a perpetual
comedy. How do other men in public life deal with this problem? They
have a genial but indifferent dignity, quite compatible with courtesy
and friendly ways. They shoulder responsibility; they do not flirt; they
sort out cranks; they flee from simpers; they put down presumption. If
married, they laugh heartily with their wives over any letter or
episode that is comical or sentimental. If not married, they get out of
things the best way they know how, with a sort of plain, manly
directness. If a minister would arrogate to himself his free-born
privilege of being a thorough-going man, many of his troubles would
Let him hold himself firmly aloof both from nonsense and from enervating
praise. Let him dream of great themes, and work for great things! Let
him rely on more quiet friends who watch loyally, hope, encourage,
inspire. By and by the scales drop from his eyes; he sees himself, not
as one who has already achieved, but as one to whom the radiant gates of
life are opening, so that he, too, can one day speak to human souls as
the masters have done! He discovers that out of the heart's depths is
great work born! This is a memorable day, both for this man and for his
church. From that hour he has vision and power.
Another error in ministerial education and outlook is that too often
ministers forget that they compete with other men: they are not an
isolated class of humanity. Competition underlies the energy and
efficiency of the world's work. When men do not consciously compete with
others, they inevitably drop behind. What a minister was intended for,
was to stand head and shoulders above other men. God seems to have
planned the universe in such a way that everywhere the spiritual shall
be supreme. He was meant to be a towering leader. Who, in other realms,
has excelled Moses, Joshua, Elijah, David, Paul?
But if we consider the responsibilities which are now being laid upon
different classes of people, and carried by them, I think that we must
acknowledge that the statesman is looming up as the most influential and
upbuilding man to-day. He is the one who is adjusting the new
world-powers and the new world-relations, over-seeing the development of
our country, and planning for its laws and commerce. Close to him comes
the physician, who is laying his hand on world-plagues, and is studying
the conditions and the forms of disease, with a view to striking disease
at its root. The hand of the doctor is laid upon consumption, malaria,
yellow fever, diphtheria, typhoid fever, and bubonic plague, and the
advance in medical research is marvellous.
The lawyer and the capitalist are together adjusting the industrial
relations of the country. We have trusts, syndicates, and
corporation-problems handled with a firm intellectual grasp and a wide
outlook over human affairs.
The reading of the world is in the hands of editors of enterprise and
sagacity. They daily bring wars, statecraft, business plans, political
situations, trade openings, scientific discoveries, forms of church-work
and philanthropy, accidents, murders, and marriages, to our
breakfast-table. The press of to-day has a tremendous scope. When some
of the magazines come to hand, one feels that he is in touch with the
affairs of the universe and has reading of a cosmic order.
The day-laborer is discovering that to ingenuity, talent, and manliness,
the whole world swings open. Carnegie's Thirty Partners, most of whom
have come from the working-ranks, demonstrate that a man can rise from
the pick, the spade, the foreman's duties, to the control of great
industrial interests.
Bankers are thinking out the financial problems--currency, legal tender,
the best forms of money and authority; the whole monetary system of the
world is under consideration and analysis. The farmer is learning,
through chemistry and other forms of science, new ways of making his
farm productive, and the educated agriculturist is rising to be an
intellectual factor in the development of our country. Everywhere we see
Life awakening--a great renaissance!
Has the minister, as a thinker and active force of regeneration, kept
pace with this advance? Do many sermons thrill us in this large way?
Where does he rank among the world-masters of energy and power?
The ministry is supposed to be a work of saving souls. But if we could
know the direct effect of preaching, and the conversions which are
really due to preaching, I think we should find them comparatively few.
What touched the boy or girl, man or woman, and led him or her to Christ
was not the sermon, or pastoral talk, though this one or another may
have united with the Church after a special sermon, revival, or personal
appeal. It was the memory and influence of a mother's prayers; of early
associations; of a teacher, a lover, a friend. The conversion came
direct from God--the soul was acted upon by some special moving of the
Holy Spirit. Or it was the death of a friend, an illness, an accident, a
disappointment, which turned the thoughts to heavenly things. Or it was
a book that searched the soul's depths, or some quickening human
experience. Is this quite as it should be? Is not professional
pride aroused?
Suppose that New York City should suddenly be invaded by the bubonic
plague or yellow fever. Would any one be to blame? Certainly! Such an
outcry would go up as would echo across the country. Where were the
quarantine officers? Where was the port physician? Where were the
specialists who attend to sanitation and disinfection?
We say that divorce and Sabbath-breaking are sweeping over our
country--gambling, social drinking, and many other ills; a sensational
press, a corrupt politics, a materialistic greed.
All the ministers under heaven cannot take sin out of the world, nor
uproot sin altogether from the heart of man: the plague conies in at
birth. Neither can all the doctors living remove disease, so that no one
will get sick or die. But just as the doctor can, by study, by training,
by counsel, by practice, and by the direction of wise law-making,
protect the health interests of his country or community, so the
minister should stand, yet more largely than to-day, as a break-water
between the world and the tides of sin! He should not only be able to
keep alive in a country an atmosphere of prayer, devotion, and unselfish
service--he should, by God's help, make piety the general estate of the
land; he should not only be intellectually able to show the great
advantage of the upright Christian life, he should straight-way lead
all classes into that life; he should be able to lay a hand on the moral
maladies of mankind, personal and national, and prescribe effectual
remedies; take lame, halt, sinning souls, and by God's grace and Spirit,
lift not only individuals, but whole communities, to a more
spiritual plane.
This is a Titanic intellectual task, as well as a spiritual one. When a
doctor wishes to keep plague out of America, he goes to Asia, to see
what plague is! He takes microscopes, instruments, and drugs; he buries
himself in a laboratory, and gives his whole mind to the problem, until
one day he can come forth and tell how to heal and help. More than this,
he risks his life. For every great discovery in medical practice,
doctors and nurses have died martyrs to their faithful work.
Moral evil must be studied in an energetic and intellectual way. The
variations of humanity from righteousness must be deeply understood.
Look at Booker T. Washington, or at Jacob A. Riis! What daring, what
indefatigable toil, what insight, patience, and swerveless hope have
been put into their task! Edison is said to have spent six months
hissing S into his phonograph to make it repeat that letter, and many
days he worked seventeen hours a day. Have many ministers ever bent
themselves in this way to solve a special moral problem--that of, say, a
disobedient child in the congregation? Have they spent six months, hours
and hours a day, to make the law of God, the word Obedience, ring in
that child's ears? Spiritual guidance is definitely and positively a
scientific task. The mastery of one fact may lead to the correlation of
a psychic law. When a minister can help a soul to overcome temptation,
and a parent to bring up a child, he is in touch with two final human
problems. As he gradually enlarges his careful and illuminating work,
his church becomes in time a body of spiritually well-educated
communicants, thoroughly grounded in doctrinal, ethical, and social
ideals, well taught in public and in private duties. It is not
self-centred or wholly denominational in spirit, but recognizes itself
to be a part of a catholic body of believers, reaches out with friendly
cooeperation to near-by churches, extends its missionary efforts to
other neighborhoods or lands, and partakes of a world-life, a
Ruling religious thinkers should also, by and by, become leaders of
national thought and life. Great public questions should be open to
their judgment and appeal; they should be moral arbiters, and spiritual
guides in national crises. By a word they should be able to rouse the
prayers of the country, and by a word to still widespread anger and
uprising. If accredited spiritual leaders cannot help, who can?
There are a few men living who seem to hold, for the whole world, the
temporal balance. They control mines and shipping, banks and trade. Who,
to-day, holds the spiritual destiny of the world in his hand? I long to
see men appear upon whom the eyes of the world shall be fastened, in
recognition of their spiritual preeminence, as they are now fastened on
these industrial giants.
Rise! Let some man, earnest and endowed, look forward into the future,
and with the courage that comes from inborn power, assert himself among
the nations! Allay, O World-Evangelist, not only neighborhood disputes,
but international dissensions; project a creed that shall be profound
and universal; sweep sects together, unite energy and endeavor, baptize
with fire, bring repentance, quicken the race-conscience, uplift the
World-Hope! Erect and elemental, hold CHRIST before the race!
IV. THE WORLD-MARCH: OF SAGES
     [ADESTE FIDELES]
     _Our Father in Heaven,
       Creator of all,
     O source of all wisdom,
       On Thee we would call!
     Thou only canst teach us,
       And show us our need,
     And give to Thy children
       True knowledge indeed.
     But vain our instruction,
       And blind we must be,
     Unless with our learning
       Be knowledge of Thee.
     Then pour forth Thy Spirit
       And open our eyes,
     And fill with the knowledge
       That only makes wise.
     From pride and presumption,
       O Lord, keep us free,
     And make our hearts humble,
       And loyal to Thee,
     That living or dying,
       In Thee we may rest,
     And prove to the scornful
       Thy statutes are best._
     THOMAS WISTAR
If we should be told that at birth a strange and wonderful gift had
been bestowed upon us, one such that by means of it, in after life, we
could accomplish almost anything we wished, how we should guard it! With
what delight we would make it work, to see what it would do! We should
never be tired of such a toy, because every day it would reveal new
possibilities of power and delight.
Such a gift God has given us in our power to think. What a mysterious
and deep-hid gift it is! Nerves and sensations, a few convolutions in
the brain, acts of attention and observation, certain reactions
following certain stimuli: the result, a world of worlds spread out
before us; unlimited intellectual possibilities within our grasp!
What is thinking? Thinking is an attempt to express infinite thoughts,
affections, relations, and events, in finite terms. The child strings
buttons. The philosopher strings God, angels, devils, brutes, men, and
their appurtenances and deeds. Hence no real thought will quite go into
words. Out beyond the word hangs the infinite remainder of our idea. The
search for a vocabulary is the search for a clearer articulation
Thinking is the power to take up life where the race has left off
attainment, and to lead the race one step farther on, by a new concept
or idea. It is a curious thing, this little turn in the brain, a
thought. We cannot see it, or touch it, or handle it. Yet we can give
it, one to another, or one man to the race. It has an infinite leverage.
One great thought moves millions onward. Plant the word _steam_, and
globe-transport changes. Plant _electricity_, and a hundred new
industries spring up. Plant _liberty_, tyrants fall. Plant _love_,
chaotic angers disappear.
If we refuse to learn to think, we refuse to do our share of the world's
work. We are like a horse that balks and will not pull. While we sulk
the universe is at a standstill.
Spelling and arithmetic, history, etymology, and geography, are not
tasks set over school-children by a hard taskmaster, who keeps them from
sunshine and out-of-door play. They are catch-words of the universe.
They are the implements by which each brain is to be trained to do great
work for the one in whom it lives. What every earnest soul asks is not
gold, fame, or pleasure. It is: Let me not die till I have brought
millions farther on.
We cannot deliberately make thoughts. Thought is like life itself:
science has not found a formula which will produce it. But just as
marriage produces new lives, though we cannot say how, so study and
meditation produce thoughts. Something new appears: a concept which was
not with the race before.
The work of sages has been to rule the thinking of the race. They
receive the inspired ideas and spend their lives in teaching them to
others: in setting up intellectual vibrations throughout the world.
Some day, I hope Sargent will paint a March of Sages, as gloriously as
he has painted the panels of the Prophets. Then we shall gaze upon the
train of heavy-browed, noble-eyed, wise, gentle-mannered men, who have
been the enduring teachers of the race,--thinkers, leaders, seers.
Confucius, Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, the mediaeval
philosophers, the Egyptian, Persian, and Arabian thinkers, Roger Bacon,
Thomas Aquinas, Eckhart, William of Occam, Bede, Thomas a Kempis,
Francis Bacon, Kant, John Stuart Mill, Spencer,--with what dignity the
processional moves down the years! The sum of human knowledge is vast;
but how much more vast seem the achievements of each of these men, when
we realize how few his years, and how many the obstacles and impediments
of his all too short career! There is ever a pathos in the life of
By thinking, we pass from the gossip of the neighborhood into the
conversation of the years. We do not know what Alcibiades said to his
man-servant about the care of his clothes, baths, perfumes,--nor what
his man-servant retailed to other retainers of the eccentricities and
vanities of his master. But we know what Pericles and Plato said to the
race. Here is the advantage of a thinking mind--that at any moment one
may enter into eternal subjects of thought, and have converse with those
who of all times have been the most profound.
Nothing teases the soul like the thought of the unfinished, the
imperfect, the incomplete. And yet, when we have thought and planned a
really great and abiding work, whether we ever finish it or not--for
many things in life may intervene between conception and completion--to
have thought of it is to have had in our lives a pleasure that can never
die. For one blessed hour or year we have been lifted to the thoughts of
God and have entered into the great original Design. Hence it is that
the life of the real Thinker, however broken or disturbed, is at heart a
life of serenity and joy. What matters a conflagration, a
disappointment, to him whose thoughts are set upon the race?
Thinking is a form of vital growth. We all wish for growth. Is there any
one who wishes to stay always just where he is to-day? To be always what
he is this morning? The tree grows, the flower grows, the ideals of the
race grow--shall not I?
We are born to a destiny which has no limit of grandeur save the limit
of the thought of God, The wish for growth is the wish to enter into the
spiritual ideals of the universe,--to become one with its advancement,
one with its decrees.
But do not the secular look upon growth as a sort of chase--a chase for
more learning, more money, a bigger business, a higher degree, a better
position, a brilliant marriage,--a struggle for wealth, renown, acclaim?
These things are not in themselves growth, nor its real index. Growth is
not a form of avarice. Growth is a vital state of being. Growth is the
assimilation of experience. Growth is development in the line of eternal
purpose. Growth is the combination of our souls with the things that
are, in such a way as to make a perpetual progress toward the things
that are to be.
We lose much because we lose avidity out of our lives, the eagerness to
grasp what spiritually belongs to us,--to share the universal
enthusiasm, the universal hope. Day by day the world wheels about
us--sunset and moonrise, wind, hail, frost, snow, vapor, care, anxiety,
temptation, trial, joy, fear. Whatever touches the sense or the soul is
something by which, rightly used, we may grow. There is nothing we need
fear to take into our lives, if it receives the right assimilation. Each
experience is meant to be a vital accession. We narrow our lives and
enfeeble our powers when we try to reject any of these things, or
unlawfully escape them, or are yet indifferent to them. Prejudice,
cowardice, and apathy are death.
Experience is what the race has been through. Each of us has his
personal variant of this common life. Thought is the power by which we
make it available for our own better living, and the future life of
To the early man, there existed earth, air, water, fire, heat, cold,
tempest, and the growth of living things. He lived, ate, fought, but his
thoughts were primitive and personal. Have _I_ had enough dinner? he
asked, not, Is the race fed?
By and by some one arose who began to consider things in the abstract,
and to relate them to his neighbor, and formulate conclusions about
them. He was the first real Thinker, Then air-philosophy and
element-philosophy grew up--beast-worship, animalism, fire-worship, and
the rudiments of simple scientific learning, as, for instance, when men
found that they could make a tool to cut, a spike to sew.
Since then, what the sage has done is to teach men to see, read, write,
think, count, and to work; to love ideals, to love mankind and relate
his work to human progress.
Man's first primer was near at hand. When he wished to write, he made a
picture with a stick, a stone, on a leaf, or traced his idea in the mud.
When he wanted to count, he kept tally on his fingers, or with pebbles
from the beach or brook. When he wished to communicate an idea orally,
it was with glances, shrugs, gestures, and imitative sounds. Once, in a
game of Twenty Questions, this was the question set to guess: Who first
used the prehistoric root expressing a verb of action? Who, indeed?
Out of that leaf-writing, and bark-etching, and later rune, have grown
the printed writings of mankind. Homer, Dante, Milton, and Shakespeare
are the lineal descendants of the man who made holes in a leaf, or lines
on a wave-washed sand. Out of the finger-counting have grown up
book-keeping, geometry, mathematical astronomy and a knowledge of the
higher curves. Out of the prehistoric shrugs and sounds and grimaces we
have oral speech--much of it worthless, and not all of it yet wholly
intelligible. We are still continually being understood to say what we
never meant to say: we are forever putting our private interpretation on
the words of other men. Even yet, we are all too stupid. In our
dreariest moments does there not come to us sometimes a voice which
cries: Up, awake! Cease blinking, and begin to see!
Language is electric. Words have a curious power within themselves. They
rain upon the heart with the soft memories of centuries of old
associations, or thoughts of love, vigils, and patience. They have a
power of suggestion which goes beyond all that we may dream. Just as a
man shows in himself traces of a long-dead ancestry, so words have the
power to revive emotions of past generations and the experiences of
former years. The man of letters, the Thinker, strews a handful of
words into the air, breathes a little song. The words spring up and
bring forth fruit. Their seed is human progress and a larger life for
men. Think, for instance, who first flung the word _freedom_ into
space!--_gravitation, evolution, atom, soul!_ There is no power like the
power of a word: a word like _liberty_ can dethrone kings.
We get out of a word just what we put into it, plus the individuality of
the man who uses it. Some men read into noble words only their own
silliness, vulgarity, prejudice, or preconceived ideas. Another man
reads with his heart open for new impressions, new insight, new fancies
Words have not only their inherent meaning; they have their allied
meanings. A word may mean one thing by itself. It may mean quite another
thing when another word stands beside it; even marks of punctuation give
words a curiously different sound and shade. Literature is a mastery,
not only of the moods of men, but of the moods of words. Corot takes a
stream, some grass and trees, a flitting patch of sky. By means of a few
strokes of his brush, he manages to present that tree, sky, stream, in a
way which suggests the pastoral experience of the ages. Where did that
misty veil come from? the trembling lights and shadows, the half-heard
sounds and silence of the woods, the changing cloud, the dim reflection,
the atmosphere of mystery and peace?
So each man goes to the dictionary. He takes a word here, a word there,
common words that everybody knows. He puts them together: the result is
a presentation of the life of man, and lays hold of his inmost spirit.
     "_Our birth is but a deep and a forgetting;
     The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
        Hath had elsewhere its setting
           And cometh from afar;
        Not in entire forgetfulness,
        And not in utter nakedness,
     But trailing clouds of glory do we come
           From God, who is our home!_"
To write, the soul chooses, and God stands ever by to help. That is why
great work always impresses us as inspired. God did it. It is God who
whispers the deathless thought and phrase: the subtler collocations
Take the word _star_. To the child it means a bright point that glitters
and twinkles in the sky, and sets him saying an old nursery rhyme. To
the youth or maiden it suggests love, romance, a summer eve, or a frosty
walk under the friendly winter sky. To the rhetorician it suggests a
figure of speech--the star of hope. To the mariner it suggests guidance
and the homeward port. To the astronomer it means the world in which he
lives. His life is centred in that star. To the poet it means all these
things and many more. For the poet is the one who, in his own heart,
holds all the meanings that words hold for the race. Read again the
lines just quoted, and think of Wordsworth's outlook on the star!
The dictionary definition of a word can seldom be the real one, nor does
it reveal the deeper sense it has. It blazes a path for the
understanding, but individual thought must follow. Take the words _time,
friendship, work, play, heroism_. It took Carlyle to define Time for us.
Emerson has defined Friendship. Let the lights and shadows of the
thought of Carlyle and Emerson play upon these words, they are at once
removed from mechanical definition, and we dimly perceive that each word
is larger than the outreach of the thought of man. Another generation
than ours shall define and refine them. In heaven, in some other aeon,
we shall find out what they really mean!
Thus knowledge is not permanent. It reels. It proceeds, it changes, it
is iridescent with new significance from day to day.
What is true of a word, and what we make of it, is true of every phase
of learning. The black-board is not all. Learning is not tied to it, or
to any one person, demonstration, interpretation, event, or epoch. No
wise man can keep his learning to himself, and yet he cannot, though he
teach a thousand years, transmit his deeper learning to another. The
atmosphere, the casual information, the spiritual magnetism of a great
man, will teach better than the text-books, the lecture courses, and
the formal resources of academic halls. Thus Mark Hopkins is in himself
a university, given a boy on the other end of the log on which he sits.
It is the relativity of knowledge that dances before the eye, that
bewilders, eludes, evades. Group-systems and electives seem like a
makeshift for the real thing. We cannot tie a fact to a pupil, because
to the tail of the fact is tied history itself. Until a pupil gets a
glimpse of that relation, that dependence of which we have just heard,
with all that has yet happened in connection with it, he is not yet
quite master of his fact. He recites glibly the date of Thermopylae, and
does not know that all Greece is trailing behind his desk. When, after
subsequent research, he knows something of Greece, he discovers Greece
to be dovetailed into Rome and Egypt, and they lay hold upon the plain
of Shinar and Eden, and the immemorial, prehistoric years.
Ah, no! We never really know. Every fact recedes from us, as might an
ebbing wave, and leaves us stranded upon an unhorizoned beach, more
despairing than before. Education does not solve the problems of
life--it deepens the mystery. What, then, may the sage know? Are there
no sages? And have we all been misinformed?
A sage is one who knows what, in his position of life, is most necessary
for him to know. The larger sage, the great Sage, is the one who knows
what is necessary for the race to know.
It is a wrong idea of wisdom, that we must necessarily know what some
one else knows. Wisdom is single-track for each man. There are in the
world those who know how to build aqueducts, and to bake _charlotte
russe_, and to sew trousers. Aqueducts and tailor work may be alike out
of my individual and personal knowledge, yet I may not necessarily be an
ignorant man. The primitive hunter stood in the forest. For him to be a
hunting-sage, was to know the weather, traps, weapons, the times, and
the lairs and ways of beasts. He knew lions and monkeys, the coiled
serpent and the serpent that hissed by the ruined wall; the ways of the
wolf, the jackal, and the kite; the manners of the bear and the black
panther in the jungle-wilds. Kipling is the brother of that early man:
he is a forest-sage, and would have held his own in other times.
The sea-sage was the one who could toss upon the swan-road without fear.
He knew the strength of oak and ash; the swing of oar, the curve of
prow, the dash of wave, and the curling breaker's sweep. He knew the
maelstroms and the aegir that swept into northern fiords; the thunder
and wind and tempest; the coves, safe harbors and retreats. To-day, the
sea-sage rules the fishing-boat, the ocean liner, the coastwise
steamers, and the lake-lines of the world.
The fishing-sage knows the ways and haunts of fish. He is wise in the
salmon, the perch, the trout, the tarpon, and the muscalonge. He says.
To-day the bass will bite on dobsons, but to-morrow we must have frogs.
No sagacity is universal, but the love of sagacity may be. The man who
starts out to implant a new way of education has a noble task before
him, but is it a final one, or even a more than tolerably practical one?
Is there such a thing as a place for Truth at wholesale, even in an
academy or college? Can a man receive an education outside of himself?
He may be played upon by grammars and by loci-paper, by electrical
machines, and parsing tables and Grecian accents, by the names of noted
authors and statesmen, and the thrill of historic battles and decisions.
He may be placed under a rain of ethical and philosophic ideas, and may
be forced to put on a System of Thought, as men put on a mackintosh. But
his true education is what he makes of these things. If he hears of
Theodoric with a yawn, we say--the college-folk--He must be imbecile.
No, not imbecile! he may become a successful toreador, or snake-charmer,
which things are out of our line! And a man may be an upright citizen, a
good husband, and a sincerely religious man, who has never heard of
Francesca, nor Fra Angelico, nor named the name of Botticelli!
The moment we set bounds to wisdom, we find that we have shut something
out. Wisdom is the free, active life of a growing and attaching soul.
We must not only attach information to ourselves, we must assimilate it.
Else we are like a crab which should drag about Descartes, or as an
ocean sucker which should hug a copy of Thucydides.
Education is the taking to one's self, so far as one may in a lifetime,
all that the race has learned through these six thousand years.
Education is not a thing of books alone, or schools; it is a process of
intellectual assimilation of what is about us, or what we put about
ourselves. At every step we have a choice. This is the real difference
between students at the same school or university. One puts away Greek,
and the other lays up football and college societies. A third gets all
three, being a little more swift and alert. One stows away
insubordination--another, order and obedience. One does quiet, original
work of reading and research; the other stows away schemes for getting
through recitations and examinations. No two students ever come out of
the same school, college, or shop with the same education. Their
training may have been measurably alike, but the result is immeasurably
unlike. Education, in the last analysis, is getting the highest
intellectual value out of one's environment and opportunities. There is
a cow-boy philosopher, a kitchen-philosopher, as truly as there is a
philosopher of the academic halls.
Conduct is the _pons asinorum_ of life. Wise men somehow cross it,
though stumblingly, and with tears. Fools, usurers, oppressors, and
spendthrifts of life are left gaping and wrangling on the hellward side.
Thinkers have always been climbing up on each other's shoulders to look
over into the Beyond. What they have seen, they have told. Some men
climb so high into the ethereal places of the Ideal, that they do not
get down again. They are the impractical men. An impractical man is not
necessarily the educated man; he is the man at the top of some
intellectual fence, who wishes to come down, but has absent-mindedly
forgotten that he has legs. The legs are not absent, but his wit is. So
with the impractical man in every sphere. Education has not really
removed his common-sense, as some say, his power to connect passing
events with their causes, and to act reasonably; but it has set his
thought on some other thought for the time being, and the dinner-bell,
we will say, does not detach him from his inquiry. His necktie rides up!
He goes out into the street without a hat! Let him alone till he proves
the worth of what he is about. The practical man, who hears the
dinner-bell and prides himself upon this fact, may not hear sounds
far-off and clear, that ring in the impractical man's ear, and that may
sometime tell him how to make a better dinner-bell, or provide a better
dinner--a great social philosophy--for the race!
The really impractical man is not he who reaches out to the intellectual
and ideal aspects of life; it is he who lives as if this life were all.
There are women who make pets of their clothes, as men make pets of
horse or dog. They have just time enough in life to dress themselves up.
Looking back over their years, they can only say, I have had clothes! In
the same number of years, with no greater advantages or opportunities,
other women have become the queenly women of the race. Some women are
girt with centuries, instead of gold or gems. Whenever they appear, the
event becomes historic; what they do adds new lustre to life.
We are all prodigals. We throw away time and strength, and years, and
gold, and then weep that we are ignorant, and embeggared at the last.
Who shall teach us wisdom, and in what manner may we be wise?
What say the sages of the vast possibilities of the race? With one voice
they say: Be brave! Do not cower, shrink, or whine. Throw out upon the
world a free fearlessness of thought and word and deed. Courage,
freedom, heroism, faith, exactness, honor, justice, and mercy--these
traits have been handed down as the traditional learning of the heart
Another ideal of the race is Law. We have given up a
chaos-philosophy--the haphazard continuity of events--a cometary orbit,
for the world. There are fixed relations everywhere existent: the
succession of cycles is orderly and prearranged.
Another ideal is Progress. We are moving, not toward the bottom, but
toward the top of possibility. We reject annihilation, because then
there is nothing left. And there must always be something
left--progress--a bigger something, a better something. Should
annihilation be the truth of things, and all the race mortal, then some
day there would be a Last Man. And after the Last Man, what? He would
die, and then all that any of the other stars could view of the vast
panorama of our earthly generations would be an unburied corpse, with
not even a vulture hovering to pick it to freshness in the air!
A Last Man? No. Instead, the seers have shown us a great multitude in a
heavenly country, praising God, and singing forth His Name forever.
Immortality broods over the great thought of the race. All great minds
look upward to it: it is the final consummation of our dreams.
Another ideal is social adjustment, and social service. We must do
something for some one, or we cast current sagacity behind the back.
People crowd each other to the wall. The weak of communities and nations
are too often crushed. Redress is in the air. The longed-for wisdom of
to-day shows a kaleidoscopic front, in which are turning the
slum-dweller and the millionaire; the white man, the yellow, and the
black; the town and the territorial possession. The slave-colony,
garbage-laws, magistrates, and murderers are mixed in motley, and there
are whirling vacant-lot schemes abroad, potato-patches, wood-yards,
organized charity, Wayfarers' Lodges, resounding cries of municipal
reform, and various other interests of the wisdom-scale.
Hence, wisdom has not yet been arrived at: we are still on the run. This
twentieth century will find new problems, new queries, new cranks, and
new dismays!
One thing, however, shines out clear: Wisdom is being recognized as
having a moral aspect, and men are looking for a Religion which shall
sum up the learning of the sages, the information of the race.
When we look down into the physical universe, the primary thing that we
find there is gravitation. When we look into the moral universe, the
primary thing that we find there is also gravitation--a sinking to a
Lower. This is sin--a contrariness of things--which makes the world an
evil place to live in, instead of a good; which wrecks character and
states, eats the hearts out of cultures and civilizations, destroys
strong races, leaves a stain upon even the youngest child, and which is
constantly drawing the race downward, instead of upward.
Sin, sin, sin! Everywhere the fact glares upon us, and cannot be hid, or
put away. Sin is not an intellectual toy, for philosophers to play with
or define as "a limitation of being." Sin is a reality, for men to
feel, recoil from, and of which one must repent.
Sin is energy deliberately misplaced: energy directed against the course
of things, the infinite development, the will of God. Sin is corruption,
and desolation, and decay. Death broods over the spirit of man, unless a
Redeemer come. The unredeemed ages hang over history like a pall. In
them there are monumental oppression, cruelties, and crimes. The breath
of myriad millions went out in darkness, and there was none to save. A
plague swept over all the race.
Hence, even scientifically considered, the final aim of thinking must
be, to arrive at some thought which will take hold of this primary fact
of sin and uproot it; which will show how the world may be purged
Slowly but inevitably we are moving to this great Thought. It is summed
up in one word: Redemption. The watchword of a century ago was
gravitation. It explained the poise of the universe by a great and
hitherto undiscovered law. The watchword of yesterday was evolution. It
explains progressive change: the mounting-up of life "through spires of
form." The forms of the universe are seen in a series which is in the
main ascendant, and in which the survivor is supreme. The watchword of
to-morrow is Redemption. The Thinker will some day live, who will make
that great word Redemption stand out in all its vast majesty and
significance. This, I take it, is the work of our new century.
Redemption is the explanation of the existence of man, of his present
progress, and his future destiny. It is the great mystery of joy in
which the race partakes; the spiritual culmination of all things
earthly; the forecast of eternal things yet to be.
Redemption is not a dogma; it is a life. Redemption is a perpetual and
ascendant moral growth. It marks a world-balm, a world-change. It is in
the spirit of man that it works, and not in his outer condition, or
external strivings. It is ultimately to root sin out of the world.
Through stormy sorrows and perpetual desolations comes the race to God.
Zion is the Whole of things--the encompassment of space, and time, and
endless years,--an environment of immortality and peace.
Virtue leads the race to Joy, and there is no byway to this height. The
final aspect of the universe is joy. Joy is elemental--a vast vibration
that sweeps through centuries as years! A day in His courts is as a
thousand, and a thousand years are as one day, because they thrill with
an immortal and imperishable emotion. The seraphim and cherubim,
Sandalphon and Azrael, are angels of enduring joy. Joy is the soul's
share of the life of God.
Thus when the world has breathed to us the holy name of Christ, it has
told us the highest that it knows. The March of Sages is toward a
Redeemer! The banner of Wisdom is furled about the Cross!
IV. THE WORLD-MARCH: OF TRADERS
     [AMSTERDAM]
     _Lo, my soul, look forth abroad
       And mark the busy stir:
     Wouldst thou say, in pride and scorn,
       Our God is not in her!
     Nay, the bonds, the wares, the coin,--
       These, in truth, are passing things;
     Other treasures thrill the life
       Of earth's great merchant kings!
     We, they say, would wake the power
       In mountain and in mine;
     And transport, from sea to sea,
       The cedar, oak, and pine:
     Build the bridge, and plant the town,
       Enter every open mart;
     Make our nation's commerce flow,--
       But this is not our heart!
     Many a prayer uplifted springs
       O'er desk, and din, and roar;
     Many an humble knee is bent
       When the rushed day is o'er;
     Far within, where God may be,
       All exists His Throne to raise;
     Every triumph of our power
       Becomes a form of Praise!
     God of nations, hear our cry,
       And keep us just and true;
     Lay Thy hand on all our lives,
       And bless the work we do:
     Then from every coast and clime
       Land and sea shall tribute bring;
     Gold and traffic, world-domain
       We offer to our King!_
     ANNA ROBERTSON BROWN LINDSAY
We are all traders. Each of us is endowed with some faculty, ware, or
possession which he is constantly exchanging for other things. We trade
time, talent, service, goods, acres, produce, counsel, experience,
ideals. The world is in reality a Bourse of Exchange. Each of us brings
some day his special product to the common mart.
There are traders and traders--the just and the unjust--the man of honor
and the rogue. We set values on thoughts and on transactions, on
merchandise and on philanthropies, on ideas and on accounts; and there
is a constant distribution of the affairs, as well as of the worldly
goods of men.
But in a restricted sense, we think of trade as the exchange of produce
which is material and mobile,--which may be touched, handled, weighed,
transported, bought, and sold. The substance of the earth is constantly
taking new shape before our eyes, being rearranged in kaleidoscopic
combinations, and transported from port to port, from town to town, from
sea to sea. One can look nowhere without seeing this ceaseless activity
progressing. Everywhere there is a whir of wheels, a plash of waves, a
din of assembly, as the new combinations take place.
There was a day when trade was a thing of here-and-there; a thing of
sailing ships and caravans, of merchants of Bagdad, Cairo, Venice,
Alexandria, Jerusalem, Tyre, and Damascus. Ivory, gold, gems, precious
stuffs, teak and cedar wood, Lebanon pine, apes, peacocks, sandal-wood,
camel's hair, goat's hair, frankincense, pearl, dyes, myrrh, cassia,
cinnamon, Balm of Gilead, calamus, spikenard, corn, ebony, figs, fir,
olives, olive-wood, wheat, amber, copper, lead, tin, and precious stones
were the chief articles of exchange. A very little sufficed the poor;
the rich were housed in palaces and panoplied in gems.
As time went on, the processional of traders became a processional led
out, in turn, by the merchants of one city after another. It is a
picturesque study, that of the trade-routes of the Middle Ages! There
was the Mediterranean seaboard, and there were the Baltic towns and the
Hanse towns; the Portuguese mariners and traders; the Venetian merchant
princes. There was the Spanish colonial trade; the Dutch trade of the
East Indies; the trade of Amsterdam and London. There were the
Elizabethan sea-rovers. Then came the British trade in the East Indies,
and the gradual growth of the trade of France, Germany, England, and the
United States. This is a story of human wants reaching out as
civilization advanced, and of the extending of the earth-exchange.
Everywhere there has been a correspondence between national prosperity
and increasing trade.
To-day, each man demands more of the earth's products than ever before.
He reaches out a hand for comforts and luxuries, as well as for
necessities. He grasps not only the produces of his own and his
neighbor's field and vineyard, but demands what lies across continents
and seas. Instead of the ship, the camel, and the ass, we now have the
ocean freighter or liner, and the flying train of cars: new forces, oil,
steam, electricity, and water-power, do the carrying work of man. And
hence trade has become Trade, and each trader is involved in the
comfort, success, and prosperity of many others. A single commercial
transaction to-day involves the lives of hundreds of thousands, competes
for their toil and life-blood, carries the decision of their destiny.
A great merchant is the real Kris Kringle. He stands at the centre of
exchange, distributes from the tropics and the arctic zones. He deals
out fur and feathers, books, toys, clothing, engines; ribbons, laces,
silks, perfumes; bread-stuffs, sugar, cotton, iron, ice, steel; wheat,
flour, beef, stone; lumber, drugs, coal, leather. He scatters
periodically the products of mills and looms, of shoe-shops and
print-works, fields, factories, mines, and of art-workers. He thus
becomes a social force of great power, a social law-giver, in fact.
Under his iron rule, the lives of the masses are uplifted or cast down.
As large eras open, the ethical ideals become higher. We are beginning
to inquire, as never before, into the basis of trade, the place of the
trader, the right conduct of this vast problem of Distribution upon
which hinges so much of human life and fate. All things look, not only
to the integration of trade, but to its exaltation.
Trade has ceased to be a thing of individual energy, talent, and
commercial alertness. It has risen to great proportions. The large
trader is in control of national conduit, as well as of national
expense. There is a great deal more in business than the art of making
money. Business is, at the roots, a way of making nations; of developing
the resources of a country, of handling its industries, of protecting
its commerce, of enlarging its institutions, of uplifting its training,
aspirations, and ideals. Traffic is educational. Imports influence the
national life. We may import opium or Bibles, whiskey or bread-stuffs,
locomotives or dancing pigs.
The sceptre held by Tyre and Venice is passing into our own hands. But
trade, to-day, is a matter of the imagination, as well as of the
stock-book. 11 needs a great imagination to handle the present-day
problems of business and finance. The prosperity of a nation depends
largely on the intelligence, integrity, and magnanimity of its business
men. To be narrow-minded in business, is not only intellectual
astigmatism, it is poor commercial policy. To make use of present
opportunities to control present advantages needs a great education and
a large human experience. It is the man of insight, of sympathy, of
economic ideals, who will lastingly control our national prosperity and
advance our industrial wealth.
With all this demand, the business man still stands largely in a class
by himself, a class apart from the great leaders of the world. He is not
yet received into the spiritual circles of the race. He goes about the
world, sits on boards and committees, fills directorships and
trusteeships, pays pew-rent, and runs towns. But when the spiritual
conclaves of the world take place, when the things of life and death are
inquired into, when words are said of the higher conduct of the life of
man, if he draw near inquiringly or unguardedly to the sacred place,
scholar and poet, priest, saint, and proud hand-worker alike rise up and
say, Go away.
It wears upon the heart--this spiritual isolation of the business man.
Does not he often say sadly to himself, They only want my money?
Why must he go away? What has he done, that he must be waved down? If we
discover why he must go away, we shall discover the meaning of that
great caste-line which has long been drawn, and ought no longer to be
drawn, between trade and letters, trade and the Church, trade and
social prestige.
The reason he must go away is this: He has never ruled the higher
history of man; he does not yet quite belong to the ideal-makers of the
race. Understand, I am not now speaking of the new business man, the
exceptional one, upright, cultured, altruistic, whom you and I may know;
I am speaking of a broad class-line, a class distinction.
It is a strange concept that would bar the business man from the ideal;
that would limit his life to an account-book, a ledger, a roll of
stocks, rents, and possessions, instead of granting him the freedom of
the universe, the privilege of ministering to the race. Singularly
enough, the business class is the last class that Christianity has set
free. Slaves have been given liberty; women, social companionship and
intellectual equality; manual labor has been lifted to dignity and
honor. But to break the shackles of the man of trade is the work of our
era, or of an era yet to come. Thousands of young men are daily stepping
into counting-houses, or behind sales-counters, or into independent
stores, who will never lift their eyes from their goods and
account-books, nor rise above the linen, hardware, groceries, or
house-fixtures which they sell. Such a situation is suicidal of national
prosperity, and blocks the high hopes of the world.
Lack of appreciation of the life of business is sinful and unjust. A
high-principled businessman may be one of the noblest leaders of
mankind. The world needs great business men--men who will know how to
use the resources of a country, how to plan for its industry,
manufactures, and commerce: men who understand the principles of
production and exchange; ways of transportation; systems of credit and
banking: men who know the constitution of the country, and the history
of its development; its strength and weakness, its possibilities and
needs: men who will deal honorably in business contracts, both with
buyers and employees, and also with law-making bodies: men who will
steadily try to advance international prosperity, as well as
personal wealth.
But to understand business on this plane, and to conduct it in this
large way, needs a fine education, an education built, first of all, on
a practical basis, such as the education of our common schools. Then
should follow a course in the ideals of the race, the classic studies in
language, literature, history, science, and philosophy. Then should come
a technical course, graduate or undergraduate, such as the courses
offered by the Universities of Pennsylvania, Chicago, Wisconsin, which
include, in general, lectures and special studies in Public Law and
Politics, Business Law and Practice, Political Economy, Statistics,
Banking, Finance, and Sociology. In addition to this, there should be a
thorough knowledge of the Bible and of Christian Ethics, with a deep
heart-experience of religion.
Endowed with natural business talent, the young man who goes out into
the world with such preparation as this knows a great deal more than
just how to make money; he knows how to make it honorably and how to
spend it, in his business, family, and social life, for the public good;
he has in him the making of a statesman and a philanthropist, as well as
a man of wealth.
Two things take one into the inner circle of the ideal-makers of the
race--imagination and sympathy. Ideals cannot be bought with gold. The
ideal is always founded on integrity, progress, and common-sense. It is
preeminently practical, as well: the thing that inevitably must be, now
or hereafter, however men laugh it to scorn to-day.
Imagination is the faculty of perceiving the higher and final relations
of life, the relation of one's work to the progress of the world, and of
one's conduct: to spiritual history. What the ideal-maker tries to do is
to set holy standards that shall not pass away: to do abiding work, in
thought, deed, word; work philosophically planned, and perseveringly
carried out; work which he shall do regardless of the outer
circumstances of his life--poverty or wealth, of threats,
misunderstanding, or hoots of scorn. He is unmoved, both by the rage of
the populace and by its most tumultuous applause. He lives for truth,
not for personal advance; for progress, not for wealth or honor. What
he lays down as a precept, that he tries to live up to, in the way that
shall win the approval of the eternal years.
Sordidness in commercial life is not necessary: greed is
not foreordained. Christianity establishes a new system of
trading-philosophy, and a new basis of commercial ethics. There is a
god-like way of trade--Christ might Himself have bought and sold--else
Christianity fails of its full mission, and there remains a class of the
socially lost, of the ethically unsaved. One reason why it is so hard to
get business men into the Church, or to interest them religiously in any
way, is that ministers, in general, do not understand or appreciate
business men. In one of the most stirring sermons I ever heard, occurred
this unjust sentence: "Our country has been built up by the martyr, and
not by the millionaire." No! Our country has been built up by _both_ the
martyr and the millionaire!
Christianity projects into the world new ideals of Trade, of Gain, of
Competition, Value, and Return for Toil.
What is Trade? Is it merely a way of making money? Then there is no
ethical basis for it. "The amount of money which is needed for a good
life," says Aristotle, "is not unlimited."
One concept is: Trade is something which belongs to me. It is that part
of the world's exchange which I can get under my personal control. It
is the balance between human industries and human needs which I hold
for my part of the world, and which others are continually trying to
wrest from me, and which I must keep by all means, fair or foul.
Competition is the battle of the strongest, the quickest, the meanest! I
must know tricks. I must get in with people, get hold of some sort of
pull, learn to dissemble, to flatter, manipulate, hedge, dodge. Success
is a matter of being sly. Anything is allowable which comes out ahead,
which adds to the dollar-pile, or which makes the loudest
advertising noise!
To buy at the least, and sell at the most, regardless of the conditions
under which least and most are attained--the man who enters life with
this idea of trade in his mind might just as well be born a shark and
live to prey. Every free dollar in the world will tease and fret him,
until he sees it on its way to his own pocket. If this is all there is
in trade, the noble-minded will let it alone: it gives no human outlook.
It not only undermines personal character, it is the root of national
ignominy and dishonor.
What has Christianity to do with this shark-instinct? with the rapacity
which looks on the world as a vast grabbing-ground, and upon all natural
resources as mere commercial prey? The value of Christianity lies in its
reasonable and intellectual appeal. It does not spring upon one like a
highwayman and say, Hands up! Give me your purse! It says gently, Son,
give me thy heart. It then proceeds to refashion that heart, to fill it
with new principles and with world-dreams.
Trade is a just exchange of what one man has for what another man needs.
It may take place individually between man and man, in which transaction
a horse, an ox, or a tool may change hands. Or one man may assume a
responsibility for a number of people, and say: I will give this whole
town shoes, in return for which you may give me a house, market-produce,
clothing, and an education for my children. The thing will come out
even, if you and I are honest. Or a climate, a civilization, may give to
another that which the other lacks. We send school-books and machinery
to China; she sends us tea, matting, and bamboo. The whole right theory
of trade is a give-and-take between men and nations, based on a just
price, and with a deep law of Value, not yet wholly formulated,
underlying each transaction.
Bargains should not be one-sided. Trade, in a large sense, is a way of
exchange in which each party to the trade receives an advantage. Not
only this, it is a process of distribution, by which each one receives
the greatest possible advantage. Money-making is a secondary result: in
true trade it is not the final benefit.
Take the case of a specially helpful and paying book. The author
receives a royalty, and has an income. The publisher receives his
profits, and makes a living. The public gains inspiration and ideals.
Who is loser? This is sheer business, yet it means loving service for
all concerned.
To illustrate further: A physician has a frail child, with which the
ordinary milk in the market does not agree. To build up its health, he
buys a country place and a good cow. The child thrives. In his practice,
he sees many other frail children, and it occurs to him that they, too,
can be benefited by the same kind of care and watchfulness that he is
giving his own child. He buys more cows, has them scientifically cared
for, and his agents sell the milk. He finds himself, in the course of
time, the owner of a dairy farm, and a man of increasing income. But his
trade is not trade for the sake of money! it is trade to make sick
children strong and well. He exchanges professional knowledge, executive
ability, and human sympathy, for money; in return for which, children
receive health, parents joy, and the race a more athletic set of men and
women. This is an instance of the inner spirit of the true trade: the
spirit which may rule all trade, deny it, or discount it, or scorn it,
as you will.
Price is a value set on material, on labor, on interest, on scarcity, on
excellence, on commercial risks; it is the approximate measure of the
cost of production. The ethical price of a commodity is the price which
would enable its producer to produce it under healthful and happy
conditions--which would insure his having what Dr. Patten calls his
"economic rights."
This joyous exertion is not harmful; it is tonic. Excellence is an
inspiration, an intoxication. Let excellence, not Will-it-pass? be the
standard of exchange. From the very endeavor after excellence comes a
certain exaltation of spirit, which ennobles the least fragment of daily
toil. When the producer brings forth somewhat for sale, let him say:
There! That is the best that I can do! It is not what I tried to make of
it--the thing of my dreams--but it is the very best which, under the
given conditions, I could produce. Then the shoddy side of trade will
The Law of Equity is the final law of trade. But in whose hands is
equity? Who appraises value? Who sets price? In whose hand is the final
price of the necessaries of life--wheat, rice, sugar, soap, cotton,
wool, coal, milk, iron, lumber, ice? The man who puts a price on an
article, as buyer or seller, enters an arena which is not only
commercial--it is judicial and ethical: he declares for what amount a
man's life-blood shall be used.
No one absolutely sets price. It is determined by far-reaching
industrial conditions, and by economic law. War, weather, famine,
stocks, strikes, elections, all have a say. Yet, to a certain degree,
there are those who rule price. As a representative of the ideal, as
executors of social trust, how shall each one use his Power of Price?
The man who has control of a price--a price for a day's labor, for
wages, for a cargo, or for any kind of product--has control of the
living conditions of the one who works for him. The question is not: How
shall I grind down price to the lowest? It is: What price will be an
ethical return to this man for his social toil?--just to me for my
brains, my capital, my energy, my distributing power,--just to him for
his brains, his time, his skill, his artistic perceptions, his fidelity
and honor? Each buyer must henceforth not only resolve: I will buy only
what I can pay for, but, what I can pay for at a just rate. So far as
lies in my power, I will make an adequate return to society for this
personal benefit.
Some one says: Do you realize that you are making a moral laughing-stock
of much of our system of trade? that you are setting an axe to that
system, more cutting than the axe of any Socialist, Nihilist, or
Anarchist in the world? Oh, no. I have simply set myself to answer the
question: How can the business man stand among the ideal-makers of the
world, so that he shall no more, in spiritual assemblies, be told to
Woman is the real economic distributer. The millionaire manufacturer
imagines that he himself runs his business. Oh, no. It is run by
farmers' wives. When they do not care for yarn or calico, his looms
stand idle for a year; the vast machinery of the world turns on woman's
little word: _I want_. Hence the education of women should include this
factor: the desire to want the right things. Extravagance is not a part
of woman's make-up; it is extraneous.
_Gain is that which permanently enriches the life._ By every act of
charity, or justice, or insight, or right barter, the soul is made more
grand. True trade everywhere may be made a new method of inspiration,
growth, and power.
Money is a makeshift of the race. God is the only real appraiser, and we
never get back a money-value for our soul's toil. Whether we pass
wampum, or nickels, or taels, or bank-checks, we are not yet paid for
The higher value of money is its spiritual capacity. Not what it will
bring me is primarily important, but what I can buy with it for the
race. Sometimes the question comes over me: What am I trading for money?
My time? My energy? My ideals? Part of my soul is passing from me: do
dollars ever repay? Hence it comes about that all money transactions are
fragmentary and symbolic.
Money may lead to poverty, or to spiritual wealth. The gift of trade is
a gift of God, as much as the gift of prophecy or song. In a right way,
we should all love gain. We are not born to go out of the world as poor
as when we came into it. We should gain stature, wisdom, strength,
influence, ideals. If our latent business capacity were more fully
aroused, we should get much more out of life. We would refuse to barter
a spiritual heritage for carnal things.
We trade thoughts and feelings. But it is very hard to trade fine
impulses with those who are intrinsically vulgar. Their treasury is
empty of spiritual coin, and their storehouse contains no
world-thoughts. We can send a caravan across the desert, a ship across
the sea, but we cannot send a Thought into a flaccid or a pompous brain.
We trade position and influence. The evil of the spoils system is not
that one gets something for something,--it is that one gets something
for something less, or for nothing. Whatever we have to give may be
rightly given; the wrong comes when we give it to the idle or unworthy.
When we trade political preferment for high merit, both the
office-holders and the country are gainers by the exchange.
Marriage is the great mart of exchange. Here the possessions of one sex
are set up against those of the other. Everywhere marriage is spoken of
as a good or a bad "bargain." Each man shall say: "Sweetheart, in Myself
I offer you the treasures of manhood. I give strength, courage,
magnanimity, action, protection, and the indomitable will." Each wife
should say: "Dear, in me are all gentleness, courtesy, beauty, grace,
patience, mercy, and hope. I, too, am brave, but my courage is of the
heart. I, too, am strong-willed, but my will is deep-set in love." As
years go on, there comes a time when Love says: "Between us now there is
neither mine nor thine. The universe is ours together!"
Human love is not all. There is yet a higher impulse. The most
business-like question that ever touches the heart of man is this: For
what shall I trade my soul? We hold our souls high: we perceive that
eternity itself is not too much to ask. And hence the highest barter is
that of the earthly for the spiritual; of the temporal for the unseen
and eternal. We say, Give me God, give me heaven, give me divine and
sacrificial Love, and I will give my heart. And thus the last
transaction is between God and the soul. Godliness is great Gain, and to
exchange earth for heaven is a satisfying and unregretted Trade.
IV. THE WORLD-MARCH: OF WORKERS
     [ARMAGEDON]
     Jesus, Thou hast bought us
       Not with gold or gem,
     But with Thine own life-blood,
       For Thy diadem.
     With Thy blessing filling
       Each who comes to Thee,
     Thou hast made us willing,
       Thou hast made us free.
          By Thy grand redemption,
            By Thy grace divine,
         We are on the Lord's side;
            Saviour, we are Thine!
     Not for weight of glory,
       Not for crown or palm,
     Enter we the army,
       Raise the warrior psalm;
     But for love that claimeth
       Lives for whom He died,
     He whom Jesus nameth
       Must be on His side.
         By Thy love constraining,
           By Thy grace divine,
         We are on the Lord's side;
           Saviour, we are Thine!
     FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL
What is work? Work is energy applied to the creation of either material
or immaterial products. The digging of the soil preparatory to raising a
corn-crop is work; the making of brooms; the writing of fugues. There is
no one who does not work, at one time or another, and a man's social
value depends largely upon the amount of work that he can do.
Even the energy which is seemingly applied to destructive tasks is
really subsidiary to a constructive ideal. Thus the hewing of timber is
a destructive task, but its object is not to scatter trees around, but
to make a clearing on which to plant wheat; or to have lumber, in order
to build a house. So, also, we blast rock, in order to get stones for a
stone wall, or for the filling of a road-bed. And we rip up old clothes
in order to have rags, and to make room in our homes for other things.
Destructiveness from a sheer love of destructiveness is not work--it is
vandalism. The true Man works. When Adam's crook-stick turned over the
brown earth to make it fertile, he began the industry of the world. The
whole horizon of man's endeavor is spanned by one word, Work. It has
built cities, bridged rivers, united continents, and sent the myriad
spindles of trade whirring under a thousand changing skies.
Work is the open-sesame of success. It is curious to see how uneasily
some men will roam from one end of the earth to the other, trying to
find an easy place, a place where work will not be needed or required.
There is no such place. The higher the honor, the harder the work. The
power to work is ordinarily the measure of a man's possibilities of
success. Long hours, hard toil, lack of recognition and appreciation,
drudgery, a thousand attempts to one successful issue,--these are the
ways in which the colossal achievements of mankind have been built up.
Work, as has well been said, is an ascending stairway. On its broad base
are ranged all the multitudes of the earth. Those who can climb mount
the higher and ever-narrowing stair.
The great man can begin anywhere, or with any task. He says, If I am
going into the giant-business, I may as well begin now! Born and bred in
the forest, he lays hand to his axe, and looking up at some tall oak,
cries out, I will begin here! With the first stroke of the axe, success
is not less sure than in his last endeavor. Success of the right kind is
a scientific achievement.
The line has not yet been drawn, and I doubt whether it ever can be
drawn, between productive and non-productive labor. There is a cleavage
of tasks, however, which may be approximately expressed, as work that is
done for support, for daily bread, and work which is done because
certain faculties of mind and heart and soul demand expression,
development, and scope. We all have powers which are willing to be set
in action primarily for self-preservation--for personal, material, and
transitory ends. We are also endowed with faculties which react,
primarily, in behalf of universal aims, though that may not debar them
from also bringing an advantage to ourselves. In proportion as we are
talented, magnanimous, and high-minded, we delight in spending a part of
our lives in working for the race.
Thus Thoreau, when he, "by surveying, carpentry and day-labor of various
other kinds," had earned $13.34, was doing income-work, the work by
which he had to live. For the same purpose, he worked at raising
potatoes, green corn, and peas. When he wrote _Walden_, he did a kind of
work which also in time brought him an income. But he did not write
_Walden_ for food or money; he wrote it primarily because he liked to
write, and for the benefit of mankind.
In order to be contented and happy, each normal adult human being must
have at least the chance of doing these two kinds of work. Unless he or
she can do income-work, he or she is not economically independent;
unless he can do universal work, he is not socially and
spiritually free.
Much of the present-day discontent is owing to the fact that these two
kinds of work are not represented, as they should be, in every
working-life.
The problem in regard to the working-man is not how to pet him, nor to
patronize him, but how to educate him and inspire him! He is not a
parasite to be fed by the capitalist, nor is the capitalist a parasite
upon the working-power of the working-man. Both are men. The problem is,
How shall the capitalist lead the noblest, most public-spirited, and
helpful life in relation to those in his employ? How shall the
working-man lay hold on the best that life can give? How shall he find a
work which he is competent to do, and likes to do, and may be supported
by doing--and at the same time have a chance to grow; to enter into the
large, free culture-life of the world?
The complaint of the working-man, when really analyzed, runs down to
this: I do income-work, but it does not bring me bread enough to live.
Not only that, but ground down as I am by toil, all possibility of the
larger, universal work is shut away from me. My faculties are
atrophied--paralyzed--and hence my soul smoulders with deep and angry
discontent. This ceaseless and sordid anxiety for bread cuts me out of
my world-life, my world-toil. I cannot do scientific research-work, or
write the books and papers that I ought. My universal labor is
interrupted: I cannot be happy until I can take up this larger
As the trade of civilization advances, the meaning of bread changes. The
university professor, no less than the day-laborer, finds his income
too small for him, and says, "I, too, do income-work which does not
bring me bread, books, travel, society, a summer home, and surroundings
which are not only decent and sanitary, but refined and beautiful."
Is it not also the source of the discontent to-day, among almost all
classes of women, except the most highly educated and efficient? Women
say--our modern daughters, wives, and mothers: "In the home, we do
income-work for which we do not receive income. When strangers do this
work, they are paid, and we are not." In addition, many a woman is so
bound down by daily tasks, that her whole soul cries out, and we hear of
the high rate of insanity among farmers' wives, of nervous prostration
of the housewives in our towns, and become accustomed to such
expressions as "the death of a woman on a Kansas farm."
This discontent takes many restless forms. It leads daughters, who ought
to be at home, out into morally dangerous but income-earning work; it
takes wives out into all manner of clubs, without regard to the fact: as
to whether the particular club, in its atmosphere and influence, is good
or bad; it brings discouragement, disorder, and unrest into the home,
dissatisfaction with house-duties and home-tasks, and is sapping our
life where it should be best and strongest--in the home--taking out of
it youth, spirit, enthusiasm, inspiration, and content.
The three questions asked in regard to each worker are: 1. What work
can he do? 2. Of what quality? 3. In what time? The difference between
industry and idleness is that work is one thing which no one may
honorably escape. Since it must be done, the problem of life is not how
to escape work, but how to find the right work, and how best to do it,
and most swiftly, when the choice is made.
"_Forth they come from grief and torment; on they wend
   toward health and mirth,
All the wide world is their dwelling, every corner of the
Buy them, sell them for thy service! Try the bargain what
   'tis worth,
          For the days are marching on.
"These are they who build thy houses, weave thy raiment,
   win thy wheat,
Smooth the rugged, fill the barren, turn the bitter into
All for thee this day--and ever. What reward for them
          Till the host comes marching on._"
             WILLIAM MORRIS
The trade of toil for money has led to many problems and discussions.
To-day the trenchant question: "What More than Wages?" is a matter of
eager talk. Is this a living-wage?--Just enough warmth, not to freeze.
Just enough clothing to be decent. Just enough food to go through the
day without actual hunger. Just enough shelter to keep out the wind and
rain and snow. Just enough education to learn to read and write
No. As the theory of bodily freedom demands for each man life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness, so the highest theory of to-day lays down
demands of economic freedom beyond the mere fad of possible existence.
Dr. Patten has formulated certain "economic rights" of man. Each
employer must say: Before I settle back with a serene belief that I have
given my men a living-wage, let me ask: Have they sun? air? sanitary
surroundings and conditions? medical care? leisure? education? a chance
to grow? Have they enough money for ordinary occasions, and a little to
give away? No man or woman has a living-wage, who has no money to
Education and comfort add to the value of the employed. The cook who has
a rocking-chair, a cook-book, and a housekeeping magazine in her kitchen
will do more work, and better work, other things being equal, than the
cook who has none. The workman who lives in a clean, sunny, well-aired
place, where he can found a home, and bring up healthy children, will do
more work, and better work, than the workman who lives in a damp, dark,
ill-ventilated tenement, and who goes to his day's work with a heart
sullen and broken because of avoidable illness and sorrow in his poor
little home. Five thousand employees who have a night-school,
luncheon-rooms, little houses and gardens, a savings-bank, and a library
of books and pictures are worth more than those who are given no such
advantages of happiness, growth, and content. The Railroad Young Men's
Christian Associations are said to be a good economic investment, as
well as an uplifting moral influence.
This appears to be a fundamental economic law: _Every physical, mental,
or spiritual advantage offered to an honest working man or woman
increases his economic efficiency_. Therefore even the selfish policy of
shrewd corporations to-day is to screw up, and not down; while the more
philanthropic are beginning to see, in their social power, a luminous
opportunity to do a god-like service.
But the capitalist, however just or generous, cannot do for a man what
he cannot or will not do for himself. Too many workers imagine that a
living-wage is to be given to each man, no matter how he behaves or
works. This is a false assumption. Underlying all human effort, there
runs a final law, that of Compensation: _What I earn, I shall some day
have_. This is a very different proposition from this: _What I do not
earn, I want to have_! For every stroke of human toil, the universe
assigns a right reward--a reward, not of money only, but of peace of
heart, joy, and the possibilities of helpfulness. But when the work done
has not been done faithfully, or well, or honestly, or in the right
spirit, the reward is lessened to that exact degree. To the end of time,
the idle and the lazy must, if they are dependent on their own
exertions, be ill housed and fed. If a man wastes, or his wife does, he
must not complain that his income will not support him. If he lets
opportunities of sustenance and advancement go by, the capitalist is not
to be held to account.
There are two chief kinds of economic difficulties. One is the problem
of the capitalist: How much ought I to pay? The second is that of the
working-man: How much service must I render? How much ought I to be
paid? Of the second kind, nearly every phase of it begins right here,
that men and women demand for labor something which they have not
earned. They do careless, indifferent, shiftless, reckless work, and
then demand a living-wage. The capitalist is not inclined to raise his
scale of prices, knowing that he has built up his business by prudence,
sagacity, and tireless application--the very qualities which his
dissatisfied employees lack.
We need not pay--we ought not to pay--for incompetence, for
impertinence, for disobedience of orders, for laziness, for shirking,
for cheating, or for theft. To do so is a social wrong. It is the wrong
that lies back, not only of sinecures and spoils, but of employing
incompetent and wasteful cooks and dressmakers.
What we make of our lives through wages depends upon ourselves. For
instance, a man gives each of five boys twenty-five cents for sweeping
snow off his sidewalks. One boy tosses pennies, and loses his quarter by
gambling. One boy buys cigarettes, and sends his money up in smoke. One
boy buys newspapers, and sells them at a profit which buys him his
dinner. A fourth boy buys seeds, plants them, and raises a tiny garden
which keeps him in beans for a whole season, The fifth boy buys a book
which starts him on the career of an educated man: he becomes an
inventor and a man of means. The man who paid out the twenty-five cents
to each boy is in no way responsible for the success or failure of their
investment of this quarter. He is responsible only for the fact that he
did or did not pay a fair price for the work.
God, the great Paymaster, gives to each of us the one talent, the two
talents, or the ten talents, of endowment and opportunity: after that,
we are left to our own devices!
There are four things which every employee should constantly bear in
mind, if he wishes to advance,--skill, business opportunity, loyalty,
and control. Until a man has mastered what he has to do, he cannot be
expected to be accounted a serious factor in the economic world. The
moment he achieves skill in what he has to do--and this is a question of
thoroughness, accuracy, and speed--he has achieved power, a possibility
of dictation in the matter of hours and wages.
The next point is business opportunity. Two men, of exactly the same
opportunities and endowments, take up the same task. One man idles and
is surpassed by the other, or he does only what he is told to do,
without further thought. The other performs his set task, but at the
same time he is examining into the principles of his engine, or into the
conduct of the factory or business. In a few years he is the foreman, or
an inventor, or a partner, with independent capital of his own. Again,
there is a blind way of doing skilled work, or of merely doing it
without noticing where it is most needed, or how the market is going for
this special kind of work. The one who has his eyes open reads, notes
the state of the market, adds to his skill the power of counsel, and can
gradually take a larger responsibility upon him, which will advance the
economic value of his time, as well as the work. There is a constant
flux in the labor-world, which is the result largely, not of special
opportunity, but of worth, application, and concentrated thought.
Third, loyalty has a high mercantile value. Disloyalty is a sin.
The fourth point is control. Does it not strike wonder to think how some
men have under them, either in their industrial plant, or in their
railway systems, or in their syndicate-work, anywhere from a few hundred
to ten, fifteen, or twenty thousand men? How do they maintain
discipline, either themselves, or through their subordinates? This
problem of control is a serious one in business. Every angry threat,
every sullen hour, each case of insubordination, every strike, every
widespread dissatisfaction, means economic waste. It means expense both
of time and money to send for Pinkertons to keep order and preserve
discipline. The man who adds to his technical skill, and his knowledge
of the market, the power of control adds great force and value to his
work. Higher yet is executive force, the power to adjust
responsibilities and duties in such a way as to get back a high economic
return in the way of service. But above all, there is that force of
character which impresses itself on a company, on a decade, on a
generation--so that some names are handed down in business from
generation to generation, all men knowing that from father to son, and
again to his son, there will pass down that certain integrity, nobility,
steadfastness of purpose, fidelity, and honor which give credit
throughout the business world, and which promise health and happiness
for those who are happy to be in their employ.
Before a man complains of his wages, then, let him ask himself: Have I
mastered my work? Am I loyal? Am I capable of larger responsibilities,
and of wider control?
WILLIAM MORRIS says: "_It is right and necessary that all men should
have work to do which shall be worth doing, and be of itself pleasant to
do: and which should be done under such conditions as would make it
neither over-wearisome, nor over-anxious._"
This theorem cannot be upheld in its entirety, though there is a deep
truth beneath it. There are many things, such as the collecting of
garbage, the washing of the dead poor, the cleaning of cesspools, the
butchery of cattle for the market, and the execution of capital
criminals, which can scarcely be called pleasant to do, and must yet be
done. As long as the world is the world, and there is in it sin, decay,
disease, and death, we cannot hope to make the work or the conditions of
work absolutely ideal: we _can_ make ideal the spirit in which work
A fine story is told that long ago, when the cholera once broke out in
Philadelphia, the hospitals fell into a fearful state. One day, a plain,
quiet little man stepped into the chief hospital, looked about a moment,
and set to work. No task was too dirty or disagreeable for him; no
detail was too disgusting. He did anything he saw to be done,--called in
additional doctors, organized the nurses, and himself waited on patients
night and day. He soon had the hospital in good shape again. When the
crisis passed, and every one began to demand, Who is this man?--they
were told: It is Stephen Girard. The work was not pleasant, but the
spirit was kind, and the heart delighted in its self-appointed toil.
Work in general, however, that has worth has several elements. First, It
must be individual. It must be joyfully done: there must enter into work
the vitality of a happy spirit. It must be spontaneous. This is why
machine-work can never be thoroughly beautiful: it lacks the spontaneity
of life. The hand never makes two things alike. With the mood, the
weather, the occasion, there are little touches added which a machine
cannot give. Life always varies and thinks of new effects.
When we try to realize what work is, when it is merely an amount of toil
prodded out of man or woman by a hard taskmaster, we have only to look
back to the bondage of Israel in Egypt, or to the time of Scylla, when
there were thirteen million slaves in Italy alone: slaves whose set
tasks were of over two hundred and fifty kinds; who worked on the
road-building, on public works, and in rowing in the galleys of the
slave-propelled ships. In Carthage agriculture was for a time largely
carried on by slave-labor. How different is this slave-labor from the
craft-work of mediaeval times, when, under the protection of the guilds,
manual labor became exalted to an artistic rank, and the workers at the
loom, the metal-workers, the wood-carvers, the tapestry-weavers, and the
workers in pottery and glass produced objects whose beauty has never
been either equalled or surpassed. Andrea del Sarto and Benvenuto
Cellini were workers, and their work remains.
Again, good work is born of affection. Love teaches more art than all
the schools. What we love, we instinctively beautify. The artist
beautifies the material on which he works. He loves his task, and from
his love there begins a gradual shaping of the ideal. The product gains
a touch of beauty. The needlework of Egypt and Byzantium, the laces of
Venice and of Spain, are historic. It is said of Queen Isabella, that
she was one of the best needleworkers of her age; that "her _motifs_
were the great events of the time."
A peasant girl of Venice was once given a beautiful coral-branch and
some rare leaves and shells which her lover had gathered for her from
the sea-depths. She was untaught in art, and making fish-nets was her
wonted work. Day by day as she wrought her nets, she looked upon the
lovely sea-treasures, their beauty passed into her heart and mind, and
she began to copy, spray by spray, the coral-foliage, the leaves of the
sea-grasses, and the curves of the sea-shells, until after a time, in
the meshes of her fish-nets, she had imprisoned forms of exquisite
beauty, and one saw there reproduced, in dainty and artistic grouping,
what her very soul had loved and fed upon. Her fish-nets became works
Work of a high order is always based on high ideals and on great
thoughts. It implies a vast amount of toil. The Capellmeister of the
Vatican choir to-day is that wonderful young genius, Perosi, who is
stirring all Europe by the beauty of his musical work, and by the
spirituality and fervor of his musical imagination. He has set himself
to compose twelve oratorios, which shall body forth the whole life of
the Saviour. He believes that the music-lover and the church-lover may
be identical, and has set his hand to the uniting of all true
music-lovers with the great offices and services and influences of the
Church. Here is Work exalted to its spiritual office: to carry out, not
only ideals of beauty and harmony, but to advance spiritual progress.
This is the final aim of all true work: it must be not only aesthetic,
and honest, but spiritual. The prayer of the true workman is ever to
make himself a workman approved unto God. "May the beauty of the Lord be
upon us, and the work of our hands, establish Thou it!"
The worker should have change of work. Nature never intended that a man
should do one thing all his life. This is in harmony neither with man's
infinite capacity, nor with her inexhaustible variety. Change is
cultural, and a man's work Should, from time to time, engross every
working-power he has.
Working-surroundings should not only be sanitary, they should be
beautiful. What influences one most at college, and makes most for one's
happiness, is not the fact of the work in recitation-rooms, out of
books, laboratories, and under teachers. The glory of college life is,
that wherever one goes, the eyes look out on beauty, and wherever one
works, there are those whom we love who work beside us.
As one passes down the long college corridors, the eyes fall upon palm
and statue, upon frieze and fresco, and the carbon copies of immortal
paintings. Everywhere there are the inspirations of sculpture and
architecture, of music, literature, and art. Beauty is in and about the
place in which one thinks and works. This is the undying charm of
Oxford--the gathering traditions of centuries, the gleaming spires, the
age-worn walls and buttresses, the clinging vine, the tremulous light
and shadow on the ancient halls, the sculpture of porch and clerestory,
and the light that falls through richly tinted windows.
This beauty should not be monopolized by any one class. About the places
where we work, we should have, as far as possible, something of the
beauty of the world. We should have wide, shaded streets and parks, even
in great cities; towers and pinnacles; sky-lines of vigor, grace, and
massive strength. Cannot department stores be artistically fashioned and
built? Cannot market-houses have arches and arabesques? May not even the
Bourse have something about it suggestive of great art? Cannot our
streets have curves and storied cross-ways? Cannot porters and draymen
have somewhat to arouse and satisfy aesthetic instincts? Cannot our
day-laborers be granted vision?
Why should we have the Gothic cathedral, with its exquisite traceries
and carvings, pillars and reredos and screen, for men to pray in, one or
two hours a week, and the hideous, grime-covered, foul-smelling,
overheated factories, in which men and women spend their working-lives?
This is what Christianity must do: it must implant joy and beauty, as
well as honesty and fidelity, in the way, place, and thought of work!
When religion, education, art, and brotherly affection have joined hands
in a charmed circle, we shall have new ideas of working-places, as well
as of praying-places, and of living-places! It is not enough that a
factory should be situated, as the best factories now are, in the open
country, with sunshine and fresh air. The blockhouse parallelograms and
squares should be replaced by something that has intrinsic beauty and
the haunting completeness of memory and association, so that the place
where a man works shall no more be to him a nightmare, but the
atmosphere and inspiration of his dreams!
And those we love shall work beside us! Here is another thought: Shall
all association in work be arbitrary? Is there not a more human way than
the chain-gang way? Could not friends work more together, so that one's
daily work should be, not a time of separation from all we love most,
but a time of intellectual sympathy and helpfulness, of companionship
and true-hearted loyalty? This, and many other good things, it is not
too much to hope for. Truly, as Morris writes, "_The Day is Coming_."
"_Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in
   the deeds of his handy
Nor yet come home in the even too faint and weary to
"_Men in that time a-coming shall work and have no fear
   For the morrow's lack of earning and the hunger-wolf
     anear._
"_And what wealth then shall be left us when none shall
   gather gold
To buy his friend in the market, and pinch and pine the
"_Nay, what save the lovely city, and the little house on the
And the wastes and the woodland beauty, and the happy
   fields we till_;
"_And the homes of ancient stories, the tombs of the mighty
And the wise men seeking out marvels, and the poet's teeming
"_And the painter's hand of wonder; and the marvellous
   fiddle-bow;
And the banded choirs of music:--all those that do and
"_Far all these shall be ours and all men's, nor shall any
   lack a share
Of the toil and the gain of living in the days when the
   world grows fair_."
Good workers are trained in the home, the school, the shop, the wider
world. Every home is an industrial establishment. In it go on the
industrial processes of cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing; the care of
silver, glass, linen, and household stores; the activities of buying
food and clothing; the moral responsibilities of teaching and training
servants and children. If any healthy member of the home is excused from
at least some form of active work, he will inevitably be a shirker when
he grows up. Cannot almost all the problems of human training be run
down to this: How to teach a child to work? If he can work, he can be
happy; but if he does not want to work, he shall never be happy. No
work, no joy, is the universal dictum.
This is the great hardship of the children of great wealth: they are not
taught to work. To avoid this difficulty, in two very wealthy families
that I know, the boys were even obliged to darn their own stockings and
mend their own clothes. One young hopeful once tore his clothes
a-fishing, and mended his trousers with a scarlet flannel patch! Some
mothers do not allow their little girls to go to school until their beds
are made up and their rooms in order. Other equally wise parents have
tools in the house, and allow the boys to do all the repair work, the
daughters all the family mending, or to care for the linen; the boys to
put in electric fixtures and bells, and keep the batteries in order.
Queen Margherita of Italy, Queen Elizabeth of Roumania, Queen Alexandra
of England, and the Empress Augusta of Germany are all women who have
been from their childhood acquainted with simple and practical household
tasks. This principle is a right one and underlies much after-success.
Each child should, first of all, have a mastery of home-tasks. Then,
whether on the prairie or in the palace, he is free and independent.
What makes the differences in the social privileges given to one class
of workers above another? In reality, we are all workers. No one ought
to live, if in health, who does not work. But for some forms of work,
men and women receive an income, and nothing more. For other work, men
and women may or may not receive a large personal income, but their work
is recognized, they are a part of the best social circles, and when they
die, a city or a nation grieves.
The essential difference is this: that one is honor-work, and one is
not. Wherever in the world work is done in a spirit of love and
fidelity, it brings its own reward in recognition and in personal
affection. Sooner or later, honor-work receives honor.
Another reason for exaltation of one form of work above another, is
that some kinds of work are so very hard to do. They involve the intense
and complicated action of many and of complex powers. It may be hard
physical work to break stones for a road-way, but the task itself is a
simple one--the lifting of the arm and dropping it again with sufficient
force to split a rock apart. But the writing of a prose masterpiece,
such as the _Areopagitica_, involves the highest human faculties in
harmonious action. If we add to the requirements of prose, the rhythm,
the exalted imagery, and perhaps the assonance and rhyme of verse, we
still further increase the difficulty of the task, and the honor of its
successful achievement. The king-work of a powerful monarch, the
president-work of a republican leader, is serious work to do. Our honor
is not all given to the king or president income, salary, or office; it
is a tribute to hard and royal-minded work.
Household service is personal service. It cannot be made a thing of set
hours, and of measurably set tasks, as office-work maybe. We may talk of
"eight-hour shifts," but they are scarcely practicable. Not every baby
would go to successive "shifts"! House-demands vary, not only with every
household, but with every day.
When love-making is wholly scientific, then domestic service will be.
There is in it the same delicate personal adjustment, the changing
requirements of weather, health, temper, and season, of emergency and
stress, that are to be found in the most purely personal relation. When
there is a period of unusual sickness through the community, not only
the doctors have extra tasks, but all household servants as well.
What social recognition can be given to servants who lie, steal, who
shirk every duty that can be shirked, and who are both incompetent and
unfaithful? The here-and-there one faithful helper receives her meed of
appreciation and affection. The whole aspect of household work will
change when honor-work is given: when home-helpers come up to us, from
the truthful and honor-loving class.
The school-room is the place in which the principles of work are
implanted: thoroughness, grasp, speed, decision, and definite purpose.
The shop is the apprentice-place of work, before one takes up individual
responsibilities. The man who wishes to rise in the railroad service
goes into the shops and roundhouse. The man who wishes to take charge of
an important department in a department store is put to tying packages.
Teachers' work will not be rightly done until certain advantages are
given to teachers that are now largely withheld. Teachers need more
society, more hours of play, freer opportunity of marriage. Instead of
being tied up to exercise-books and roll-books, in their home-hours,
they should have a chance to spend their time on the golf-links, at
afternoon teas, in visiting and in entertaining friends. Take away
society from any man or woman, and you take away the possibility of a
growing, happy, and helpful life. We need friends just as we need air.
Teachers need admiration and affection, just as much as the society
Universities should have, in their faculties, men and women who
represent the best social as well as the best intellectual life of the
world--who are not only, in the highest sense of the word, society men
and women, but who are social leaders, inspiring truth, inculcating
larger social ideals of the best sort.
The problem between capitalist and laborer, however, only affects a
portion of the world; that of domestic service a still smaller
proportion; that of teachers affects only a class. There is another
problem, which affects nearly all married women, and therefore a large
section of the human race. It is the problem of mother-work. Here is
where the economist should next turn his attention. First, What is
Mother-work? Second, What are the best economic conditions under which
this work can be done? When we have solved this question, we shall have
solved a great human problem.
Mother-work includes the bearing and the rearing of children, the
conduct of a home, and the placing of that home in the right social
atmosphere and relations. It includes manual, intellectual, and
spiritual labors. The one who lives and works, as God meant her to live
and work, will never feel over-fatigue. Why do mothers often look so
tired? It is because they too often do not have what every mother ought
to have: education, rest, change, a Sabbath-day, individual income,
intellectual interests, society.
Whether in the simplest home or in the stateliest, there are certain
manual things to be done in regard to the care and bringing-up of
children, and the conduct of a home. To make the conditions of a woman's
life easier, the very first thing is this: 1. _Women should be educated
primarily for home-life._ By this I do not mean that a woman should be
taught cooking, and not political economy; that she should be instructed
in dressmaking and nursery-work, but not in chemistry and logic. I mean
that the very fullest education that schools, colleges, universities,
and foreign travel can give, should be given to the woman who is
fortunate enough to have them at command, and that every woman,
according to the degree of her possibilities of education and
opportunity, should have the best. But always this education should be
thought of as a part of her preparation for a woman's life. When boys
are in a business college, the principal of that college does not forget
that among the boys there may be more than one who will never have a
business life, but who will go out into other interests and pursuits.
Yet he turns the thoughts of _all_ boys in his school specially toward
business problems. In schools and colleges for women, not all the girls
will marry, not all will be mothers, but most of them will be. Is not,
then, the normal education of a woman that which, while it does not
cramp her life in one direction, nor mould her in a set way, yet keeps
always in mind the fact that the normal woman is being educated for a
normal woman's life?
This would not necessarily change the curriculum of our colleges in any
way; it would change the spirit and atmosphere of some of them at once.
Instead of the spirit being: "My mind is just as good as a man's. What a
man can study, I can learn! What a man can do, I can do!"--the spirit
would be this: "I am going out into a woman's life, and it is my
business now to take to myself all the wisdom, counsel, experience, and
inspiration of past ages, that I may be the very grandest woman that
history has yet seen! I will be a land-mark in time: I will be a pivot
in history around which the earth shall turn. Because of my life, women
to the end of time shall be able to live a truer, freer, better life!"
With this thought in mind, all the academic subjects would still pass
into her mind and life, but they would be much more naturally set and
their value would be greatly enhanced. Then we would not have the
too-ambitious woman stepping out of college, or the restless and
discontented one. We would have the large-minded, earnest, noble,
public-spirited one, who would go out into the world as a fine type of
woman, to live a woman's life and do a woman's work. Married or
unmarried, she would still have a woman's interests, a woman's
influence, a woman's charm.
This higher education may or may not include practical studies in
domestic science, nursing, and household emergencies, but she should
learn somewhere the elements of these studies, so that when she goes
into a home of her own her duties and responsibilities will not be met
in a half-hearted and untrained way.
2. Mothers should have rest-hours and rest-days. Is it not something
extraordinary, from a purely economic point of view, that while it is
widely recognized that every one should have one day in seven for rest,
that while business men are expected to close up their offices on the
Sabbath, and all working men and women are given this day in the stores,
the factories, and mines--the cook and maids have their Sundays out, and
their week-day afternoons--that nowhere on earth, so far as I know, has
there ever been a systematic arrangement by which mothers, as a class,
have any specially arranged hours or days for rest! A baby's care does
not stop on the Sabbath, and the average mother is practically on duty,
at least over-seeing, day and night, twenty-four hours out of the
twenty-four, from one end of the year to the other, no matter how many
maids and nurses she may have in her employ!
3. Personal income and its use. What we buy marks our own individuality,
as well as what we do. The woman whose father or husband adjusts her
expenses and expenditures cannot by any possibility be the kind of woman
that the one is who chooses her own things, and spends her money
absolutely to suit herself. When a man buys cigars or fishing-tackle,
his wife may prefer to buy oratorios and golf-clubs.
4. Mothers should have some interest outside of home-tasks, to keep them
in touch with world-interests and world-tasks. Not all mother's duty is
inside the four walls of her home. The race has demands upon her, as
well as her own child. She ought to be guarded from that short-sighted
and selfish devotion which makes her look upon her child as the centre
of the universe, and which leads her to sacrifice every hour, every
thought, every talent, to him alone.
5. Building up the place of a home in a community means much more than a
rivalry with one's neighbors, as to which one shall have the cleanest
house, the prettiest or most expensive curtains and furniture, who shall
entertain the most, and whose children shall present the best appearance
in the world! Making a social place for a family involves a very wide
acquaintance with really great social ideals; with the best instincts
and customs; with world refinement and manners, as well as those of
one's own town or village--with the social possibilities of life in
general, as well as the etiquette of Quinton's Corners! To give the
right stamp upon her home, a mother must have a social life, as well as
domestic one. She must have time to enter somewhat into the activities
of her own neighborhood, and must have society after marriage, as well
It is a different sort of society that she then needs. It is not a
boy-and-girl society, with its crude ways, and its adolescent ideas of
life. It is the society of earnest, cultured, and public-spirited men
and women, each of whom is adding something to the general store of
interest and ideals; each of whom is doing some phase of social work,
according to his own talent and opportunity.
When a mother steps out into life in this large way, makes education and
training tributary to her mother-life, and does not stop growing
intellectually or spiritually,--her charm as a woman increases, instead
of diminishes, every year of her married life. Her looks mark her
everywhere as a supremely happy woman, and she goes out into the world
marked with that strange, deep, grand impress of motherhood and
womanhood, which has always made the true woman not only a
working-mother, but a love-crowned queen!
These and many other thoughts flit over one's mind in looking at any
phase of work, or any piece of work. In the right choice of work lies
the fullest use of one's capacities; in the right conditions of work
lies the freest play of one's energies; in the right spirit of work lies
the way of one's lasting happiness, and the foretaste of eternal joys.
Thus the world is seen to consist of great cycles of workers, rising in
tiers one above another. Those who do not work are quickly cut out from
all participation in race-progress and in race-delights; those who work
earnestly, but blindly, have their small reward. But those who work with
spiritual energy and enthusiasm are weaving their handiwork into the
very fibre of the universal frame. It is for these spiritual workers
that the great eagerness of life is undying; for them there is no shadow
of fatigue; for them there is the joy of mastery and accomplishment; for
them the peace of soul that comes from the triumphant achievement of
one's mission to mankind!
and PG Distributed Proofreaders
                      A
             VOYAGE TO THE MOON:
                     WITH
                 SOME ACCOUNT
                    OF THE
  MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY,
                    OF THE
              PEOPLE OF MOROSOFIA,
                     AND
                OTHER LUNARIANS.
        BY GEORGE TUCKER (JOSEPH ATTERLEY)
    "It is the very error of the moon,
    She comes more near the earth than she was wont,
    And makes men mad."--_Othello_.
                    1827
     CONTENTS.
     CHAPTER I.
Atterley's birth and education--He makes a voyage--
  Founders off the Burman coast--Adventures in
  that Empire--Meets with a learned Brahmin from
     CHAPTER II.
The Brahmin's illness--He reveals an important secret
  to Atterley--Curious information concerning the
  Moon--The Glonglims--They plan a voyage to
     CHAPTER III.
The Brahmin and Atterley prepare for their voyage--
  Description of their travelling machine--Incidents
  of the voyage--The appearance of the earth;
  Africa; Greece--The Brahmin's speculations on
  the different races of men--National character.
     CHAPTER IV.
Continuation of the voyage--View of Europe; Atlantic
  Ocean; America--Speculations on the future
  destiny of the United States--Moral reflections--
  Pacific Ocean--Hypothesis on the origin of the
     CHAPTER V.
The voyage continued--Second view of Asia--The
  Brahmin's speculations concerning India--Increase
  of the Moon's attraction--Appearance of the Moon
  --They land on the Moon.
     CHAPTER VI.
Some account of Morosofia, and its chief city, Alamatua
  --Singular dresses of the Lunar ladies--Religious
  self-denial--Glonglim miser and spendthrift.
     CHAPTER VII.
Physical peculiarities of the Moon--Celestial phenomena
  --Farther description of the Lunarians--National
  prejudice--Lightness of bodies--The Brahmin
  carries Atterley to sup with a philosopher--
  His character and opinions.
     CHAPTER VIII.
A celebrated physician: his ingenious theories in physics:
  his mechanical inventions--The feather-hunting Glonglim.
     CHAPTER IX.
The fortune-telling philosopher, who inspected the
  finger nails: his visiters--Another philosopher,
  who judged of the character by the hair--The
  fortune-teller duped--Predatory warfare.
     CHAPTER X.
The travellers visit a gentleman farmer, who is a great
  projector: his breed of cattle: his apparatus for
  cooking--He is taken dangerously ill.
     CHAPTER XI.
Lunarian physicians: their consultation--While they
  dispute the patient recovers--The travellers visit
  the celebrated teacher Lozzi Pozzi.
     CHAPTER XII.
Election of the Numnoonce, or town-constable--
  Violence of parties--Singular institution of the Syringe
  Boys--The prize-fighters--Domestic manufactures.
     CHAPTER XIII.
Description of the Happy Valley--The laws, customs,
  and manners of the Okalbians--Theory of population
  --Rent--System of government.
     CHAPTER XIV.
Further account of Okalbia--The Field of Roses--
  Curious superstition concerning that flower--The
  pleasures of smell traced to association, by a
  Glonglim philosopher.
     CHAPTER XV.
Atterley goes to the great monthly fair--Its various
  exhibitions; difficulties--Preparations to leave the
  Moon--Curiosities procured by Atterley--Regress
  to the Earth.
     CHAPTER XVI.
The Brahmin gives Atterley a history of his life.
     CHAPTER XVII.
The Brahmin's story continued--The voyage concluded
  --Atterley and the Brahmin separate--Atterley
  arrives in New-York.
 Appendix: Anonymous Review of _A Voyage to the
     Moon,_ reprinted from _The American Quarterly
     Review_ No. 5 (March 1828)
APPEAL TO THE PUBLIC.
Having, by a train of fortunate circumstances, accomplished a voyage, of
which the history of mankind affords no example; having, moreover, exerted
every faculty of body and mind, to make my adventures useful to my
countrymen, and even to mankind, by imparting to them the acquisition
of secrets in physics and morals, of which they had not formed the
faintest conception,--I flattered myself that both in the character
of traveller and public benefactor, I had earned for myself an immortal
name. But how these fond, these justifiable hopes have been answered,
the following narrative will show.
On my return to this my native State, as soon as it was noised abroad
that I had met with extraordinary adventures, and made a most wonderful
voyage, crowds of people pressed eagerly to see me. I at first met their
inquiries with a cautious silence, which, however, but sharpened their
curiosity. At length I was visited by a near relation, with whom I felt
less disposed to reserve. With friendly solicitude he inquired "how much
I had made by my voyage;" and when he was informed that, although I had
added to my knowledge, I had not improved my fortune, he stared at me a
while, and remarking that he had business at the Bank, as well as an
appointment on 'Change, suddenly took his leave. After this, I was not
much interrupted by the tribe of inquisitive idlers, but was visited
principally by a few men of science, who wished to learn what I could
add to their knowledge of nature. To this class I was more communicative;
and when I severally informed them that I had actually been to the
Moon, some of them shrugged their shoulders, others laughed in my face,
and some were angry at my supposed attempt to deceive them; but all,
with a single exception, were incredulous.
It was to no purpose that I appealed to my former character for veracity.
I was answered, that travelling had changed my morals, as it had changed
other people's. I asked what motives I could have for attempting to
deceive them. They replied, the love of distinction--the vanity of being
thought to have seen what had been seen by no other mortal; and they
triumphantly asked me in turn, what motives Raleigh, and Riley, and
Hunter, and a hundred other travellers, had for their misrepresentations.
Finding argument thus unavailing, I produced visible and tangible proofs
of the truth of my narrative. I showed them a specimen of moonstone.
They asserted that it was of the same character as those meteoric stones
which had been found in every part of the world, and that I had merely
procured a piece of one of these for the purpose of deception. I then
exhibited some of what I considered my most curious Lunar plants: but
this made the matter worse; for it so happened, that similar ones were
then cultivated in Mr. Prince's garden at Flushing. I next produced
some rare insects, and feathers of singular birds: but persons were
found who had either seen, or read, or heard of similar insects and
birds in Hoo-Choo, or Paraguay, or Prince of Wales's Island. In short,
having made up their minds that what I said was not true, they had an
answer ready for all that I could urge in support of my character; and
those who judged most christianly, defended my veracity at the expense
of my understanding, and ascribed my conduct to partial insanity.
There was, indeed, a short suspension to this cruel distrust. An old
friend coming to see me one day, and admiring a beautiful crystal which
I had brought from the Moon, insisted on showing it to a jeweller, who
said that it was an unusually hard stone, and that if it were a diamond,
it would be worth upwards of 150,000 dollars. I know not whether the
mistake that ensued proceeded from my friend, who is something of a wag,
or from one of the lads in the jeweller's shop, who, hearing a part of
what his master had said, misapprehended the rest; but so it was, that
the next day I had more visiters than ever, and among them my kinsman,
who was kind enough to stay with me, as if he enjoyed my good fortune,
until both the Exchange and the Banks were closed. On the same day,
the following paragraph appeared in one of the morning prints:
    "We understand that our enterprising and intelligent traveller,
    JOSEPH ATTERLEY, Esquire, has brought from his Lunar Expedition,
    a diamond of extraordinary size and lustre. Several of the most
    experienced jewellers of this city have estimated it at from
    250,000 to 300,000 dollars; and some have gone so far as to say
    it would be cheap at half a million. We have the authority of a
    near relative of that gentleman for asserting, that the satisfactory
    testimonials which he possesses of the correctness of his narrative,
    are sufficient to satisfy the most incredulous, and to silence
    malignity itself."
But this gleam of sunshine soon passed away. Two days afterwards, another
paragraph appeared in the same paper, in these words:
    "We are credibly informed, that the supposed diamond of the _famous_
    traveller to the Moon, turns out to be one of those which are found
    on Diamond Island, in Lake George. We have heard that Mr. A----y
    means to favour the public with an account of his travels, under
    the title of 'Lunarian Adventures;' but we would take the liberty
    of recommending, that for _Lunarian_, he substitute _Lunatic_."
Thus disappointed in my expectations, and assailed in my character,
what could I do but appeal to an impartial public, by giving them a
circumstantial detail of what was most memorable in my adventures, that
they might judge, from intrinsic evidence, whether I was deficient either
in soundness of understanding or of moral principle? But let me first
bespeak their candour, and a salutary diffidence of themselves, by one
or two well-authenticated anecdotes.
During the reign of Louis the XIVth, the king of Siam having received
an ambassador from that monarch, was accustomed to hear, with wonder
and delight, the foreigner's descriptions of his own country: but the
minister having one day mentioned, that in France, water, at one time
of the year, became a solid substance, the Siamese prince indignantly
exclaimed,--"Hold, sir! I have listened to the strange things you have
told me, and have hitherto believed them all; but now when you wish to
persuade me that water, which I know as well as you, can become hard, I
see that your purpose is to deceive me, and I do not believe a word you
have uttered."
But as the present patriotic preference for home-bred manufactures, may
extend to anecdotes as well as to other productions, a story of domestic
origin may have more weight with most of my readers, than one introduced
from abroad.
The chief of a party of Indians, who had visited Washington during
Mr. Jefferson's presidency, having, on his return home, assembled his
tribe, gave them a detail of his adventures; and dwelling particularly
upon the courteous treatment the party had received from their "Great
Father," stated, among other things, that he had given them ice, though
it was then mid-summer. His countrymen, not having the vivacity of our
ladies, listened in silence till he had ended, when an aged chief stepped
forth, and remarked that he too, when a young man, had visited their
Great Father Washington, in New-York, who had received him as a son, and
treated him with all the delicacies that his country afforded, but had
given him no ice. "Now," added the orator, "if any man in the world could
have made ice in the summer, it was Washington; and if he could have made
it, I am sure he would have given it to me. Tustanaggee is, therefore, a
liar, and not to be believed."
In both these cases, though the argument seemed fair, the conclusion was
false; for had either the king or the chief taken the trouble to satisfy
himself of the fact, he might have found that his limited experience had
deceived him.
It is unquestionably true, that if travellers sometimes impose on the
credulity of mankind, they are often also not believed when they speak
the truth. Credulity and scepticism are indeed but different names for
the same hasty judgment on insufficient evidence: and, as the old woman
readily assented that there might be "mountains of sugar and rivers
of rum," because she had seen them both, but that there were "fish
which could fly," she never would believe; so thousands give credit
to Redheiffer's patented discovery of perpetual motion, because they
had beheld his machine, and question the existence of the sea-serpent,
because they have not seen it.
I would respectfully remind that class of my readers, who, like the
king, the Indian, or the old woman, refuse to credit any thing which
contradicts the narrow limits of their own observation, that there are
"more secrets in nature than are dreamt of in their philosophy;" and
that upon their own principles, before they have a right to condemn me,
they should go or send to the mountains of Ava, for some of the metal
with which I made my venturous experiment, and make one for themselves.
As to those who do not call in question my veracity, but only doubt my
sanity, I fearlessly appeal from their unkind judgment to the sober and
unprejudiced part of mankind, whether, what I have stated in the following
pages, is not consonant with truth and nature, and whether they do not
there see, faithfully reflected from the Moon, the errors of the learned
on Earth, and "the follies of the wise?"
JOSEPH ATTERLEY.
_Long-Island, September_, 1827.
VOYAGE TO THE MOON.
_Atterley's birth and education--He makes a voyage--Founders off the
Burman coast--Adventures in that Empire--Meets with a learned Brahmin
from Benares._
Being about to give a narrative of my singular adventures to the world,
which, I foresee, will be greatly divided about their authenticity,
I will premise something of my early history, that those to whom I am
not personally known, may be better able to ascertain what credit is
due to the facts which rest only on my own assertion.
I was born in the village of Huntingdon, on Long-Island, on the 11th day
of May, 1786. Joseph Atterley, my father, formerly of East Jersey, as it
was once called, had settled in this place about a year before, in
consequence of having married my mother, Alice Schermerhorn, the only
daughter of a snug Dutch farmer in the neighbourhood. By means of the
portion he received with my mother, together with his own earnings,
he was enabled to quit the life of a sailor, to which he had been bred,
and to enter into trade. After the death of his father-in-law, by whose
will he received a handsome accession to his property, he sought, in the
city of New-York, a theatre better suited to his enlarged capital. He
here engaged in foreign trade; and, partaking of the prosperity which
then attended American commerce, he gradually extended his business, and
finally embarked in our new branch of traffic to the East Indies and
China. He was now very generally respected, both for his wealth and fair
dealing; was several years a director in one of the insurance offices;
was president of the society for relieving the widows and orphans of
distressed seamen; and, it is said, might have been chosen alderman,
if he had not refused, on the ground that he did not think himself
My father was not one of those who set little value on book learning,
from their own consciousness of not possessing it: on the contrary, he
would often remark, that as he felt the want of a liberal education
himself, he was determined to bestow one on me. I was accordingly, at
an early age, put to a grammar school of good repute in my native village,
the master of which, I believe, is now a member of Congress; and, at the
age of seventeen, was sent to Princeton, to prepare myself for some
profession. During my third year at that place, in one of my excursions
to Philadelphia, and for which I was always inventing pretexts, I became
acquainted with one of those faces and forms which, in a youth of twenty,
to see, admire, and love, is one and the same thing. My attentions were
favourably received. I soon became desperately in love; and, in spite of
the advice of my father and entreaties of my mother, who had formed other
schemes for me nearer home, I was married on the anniversary of my
twenty-first year.
It was not until the first trance of bliss was over, that I began to
think seriously on the course of life I was to pursue. From the time
that my mind had run on love and matrimony, I had lost all relish for
serious study; and long before that time, I had felt a sentiment bordering
on contempt for the pursuits of my father. Besides, he had already taken
my two younger brothers into the counting-house with him. I therefore
prevailed on my indulgent parent, with the aid of my mother's intercession,
to purchase for me a neat country-seat near Huntingdon, which presented a
beautiful view of the Sound, and where, surrounded by the scenes of my
childhood, I promised myself to realise, with my Susanna, that life of
tranquil felicity which fancy, warmed by love, so vividly depicts.
If we did not meet with all that we had expected, it was because we had
expected too much. The happiest life, like the purest atmosphere, has
its clouds as well as its sunshine; and what is worse, we never fully
know the value of the one, until we have felt the inconvenience of the
other. In the cultivation of my farm--in educating our children, a son
and two daughters, in reading, music, painting--and in occasional visits
to our friends in New-York and Philadelphia, seventeen years glided
swiftly and imperceptibly away; at the end of which time death, in
depriving me of an excellent wife, made a wreck of my hopes and enjoyments.
For the purpose of seeking that relief to my feelings which change of
place only could afford, I determined to make a sea voyage; and, as one
of my father's vessels was about to sail for Canton, I accordingly
embarked on board the well-known ship the _Two Brothers_, captain
Thomas, and left Sandy-hook on the 5th day of June, 1822, having first
placed my three children under the care of my brother William.
I will not detain the reader with a detail of the first incidents of
our voyage, though they were sufficiently interesting at the time they
occurred, and were not wanting in the usual variety. We had, in singular
succession, dead calms and fresh breezes, stiff gales and sudden squalls;
saw sharks, flying-fish, and dolphins; spoke several vessels: had a
visit from Neptune when we crossed the Line, and were compelled to
propitiate his favour with some gallons of spirits, which he seems
always to find a very agreeable change from sea water; and touched at
Table Bay and at Madagascar.
On the whole, our voyage was comparatively pleasant and prosperous, until
the 24th of October; when, off the mouths of the Ganges, after a fine
clear autumnal day, just about sunset, a small dark speck was seen in
the eastern horizon by our experienced and watchful captain, who, after
noticing it for a few moments, pronounced that we should have a hurricane.
The rapidity with which this speck grew into a dense cloud, and spread
itself in darkness over the heavens, as well as the increasing swell of
the ocean before we felt the wind, soon convinced us he was right. No
time was lost in lowering our topmasts, taking double reefs, and making
every thing snug, to meet the fury of the tempest. I thought I had
already witnessed all that was terrific on the ocean; but what I had
formerly seen, had been mere child's play compared with this. Never can
I forget the impression that was made upon me by the wild uproar of the
elements. The smooth, long swell of the waves gradually changed into an
agitated frothy surface, which constant flashes of lightning presented
to us in all its horror; and in the mean time the wind whistled through
the rigging, and the ship creaked as if she was every minute going to
About midnight the storm was at its height, and I gave up all for lost.
The wind, which first blew from the south-west, was then due south, and
the sailors said it began to abate a little before day: but I saw no
great difference until about three in the afternoon; soon after which
the clouds broke away, and showed us the sun setting in cloudless majesty,
while the billows still continued their stupendous rolling, but with a
heavy movement, as if, after such mighty efforts, they were seeking
repose in the bosom of their parent ocean. It soon became almost calm;
a light western breeze barely swelled our sails, and gently wafted us
to the land, which we could faintly discern to the north-east. Our ship
had been so shaken in the tempest, and was so leaky, that captain Thomas
thought it prudent to make for the first port we could reach.
At dawn we found ourselves in full view of a coast, which, though not
personally known to the captain, he pronounced by his charts to be a
part of the Burmese Empire, and in the neighbourhood of Mergui, on the
Martaban coast. The leak had now increased to an alarming extent, so
that we found it would be impossible to carry the ship safe into port.
We therefore hastily threw our clothes, papers, and eight casks of
silver, into the long-boat; and before we were fifty yards from the
ship, we saw her go down. Some of the underwriters in New York, as I
have since learnt, had the conscience to contend that we left the ship
sooner than was necessary, and have suffered themselves to be sued for
the sums they had severally insured. It was a little after midday when
we reached the town, which is perched on a high bluff, overlooking
the coasts, and contains about a thousand houses, built of bamboo,
and covered with palm leaves. Our dress, appearance, language, and
the manner of our arrival, excited great surprise among the natives,
and the liveliest curiosity; but with these sentiments some evidently
mingled no very friendly feelings. The Burmese were then on the eve
of a rupture with the East India Company, a fact which we had not before
known; and mistaking us for English, they supposed, or affected to
suppose, that we belonged to a fleet which was about to invade them,
and that our ship had been sunk before their eyes, by the tutelar divinity
of the country. We were immediately carried before their governor,
or chief magistrate, who ordered our baggage to be searched, and finding
that it consisted principally of silver, he had no doubt of our hostile
intentions. He therefore sent all of us, twenty-two in number, to prison,
separating, however, each one from the rest. My companions were released
the following spring, as I have since learnt, by the invading army of
Great Britain; but it was my ill fortune (if, indeed, after what has
since happened, I can so regard it) to be taken for an officer of high
rank, and to be sent, the third day afterwards, far into the interior,
that I might be more safely kept, and either used as a hostage or offered
for ransom, as circumstances should render advantageous.
The reader is, no doubt, aware that the Burman Empire lies beyond the
Ganges, between the British possessions and the kingdom of Siam; and
that the natives nearly assimilate with those of Hindostan, in language,
manners, religion, and character, except that they are more hardy and
I was transported very rapidly in a palanquin, (a sort of decorated
litter,) carried on the shoulders of four men, who, for greater despatch,
were changed every three hours. In this way I travelled thirteen days,
in which time we reached a little village in the mountainous district
between the Irawaddi and Saloon rivers, where I was placed under the
care of an inferior magistrate, called a Mirvoon, who there exercised
the chief authority.
This place, named Mozaun, was romantically situated in a fertile valley,
that seemed to be completely shut in by the mountains. A small river,
a branch of the Saloon, entered it from the west, and, after running
about four miles in nearly a straight direction, turned suddenly round
a steep hill to the south, and was entirely lost to view. The village
was near a gap in the mountain, through which the river seemed to have
forced its way, and consisted of about forty or fifty huts, built of
the bamboo cane and reeds. The house of my landlord was somewhat larger
and better than the rest. It stood on a little knoll that overlooked
the village, the valley, the stream that ran through it, and commanded
a distant view of the country beyond the gap. It was certainly a lovely
little spot, as it now appears to my imagination; but when the landscape
was new to me, I was in no humour to relish its beauties, and when my
mind was more in a state to appreciate them, they had lost their novelty.
My keeper, whose name was Sing Fou, and who, from a long exercise of
magisterial authority, was rough and dictatorial, behaved to me somewhat
harshly at first; but my patient submission so won his confidence and
good will, that I soon became a great favourite; was regarded more as
one of his family than as a prisoner, and was allowed by him every
indulgence consistent with my safe custody. But the difficulties in the
way of my escape were so great, that little restraint was imposed on
my motions. The narrow defile in the gap, through which the river rushed
like a torrent, was closed with a gate. The mountains, by which the
valley was hemmed in, were utterly impassable, thickly set as they were
with jungle, consisting of tangled brier, thorn and forest trees, of
which those who have never been in a tropical climate can form no adequate
idea. In some places it would be difficult to penetrate more than a
mile in the day; during which time the traveller would be perpetually
tormented by noxious insects, and in constant dread of beasts of prey.
The only outlet from this village was by passing down the valley along
the settlements, and following the course of the stream; so that there
was no other injunction laid on me, than not to extend my rambles far
in that direction. Sing Fou's household consisted of his wife, whom I
rarely saw, four small children, and six servants; and here I enjoyed
nearly as great a portion of happiness as in any part of my life.
It had been one of my favourite amusements to ramble towards a part of
the western ridge, which rose in a cone about a mile and a half from the
village, and there ascending to some comparatively level spot, or point
projecting from its side, enjoy the beautiful scenery which lay before
me, and the evening breeze, which has such a delicious freshness in a
tropical climate.
Nor was this all. In a deep sequestered nook, formed by two spurs of this
mountain, there lived a venerable Hindoo, whom the people of the village
called the Holy Hermit. The favourable accounts I received of his
character, as well as his odd course of life, made me very desirous
of becoming acquainted with him; and, as he was often visited by the
villagers, I found no difficulty in getting a conductor to his cell. His
character for sanctity, together with a venerable beard, might have
discouraged advances towards an acquaintance, if his lively piercing eye,
a countenance expressive of great mildness and kindness of disposition,
and his courteous manners, had not yet more strongly invited it. He was
indeed not averse to society, though he had seemed thus to fly from it;
and was so great a favourite with his neighbours, that his cell would
have been thronged with visitors, but for the difficulty of the approach
to it. As it was, it was seldom resorted to, except for the purpose of
obtaining his opinion and counsel on all the serious concerns of his
neighbours. He prescribed for the sick, and often provided the medicine
they required--expounded the law--adjusted disputes--made all their little
arithmetical calculations--gave them moral instruction--and, when he
could not afford them relief in their difficulties, he taught them
patience, and gave them consolation. He, in short, united, for the simple
people by whom he was surrounded, the functions of lawyer, physician,
schoolmaster, and divine, and richly merited the reverential respect in
which they held him, as well as their little presents of eggs, fruit, and
garden stuff.
From the first evening that I joined the party which I saw clambering up
the path that led to the Hermit's cell, I found myself strongly attached
to this venerable man, and the more so, from the mystery which hung
around his history. It was agreed that he was not a Burmese. None deemed
to know certainly where he was born, or why he came thither. His own
account was, that he had devoted himself to the service of God, and in
his pilgrimage over the east, had selected this as a spot particularly
favourable to the life of quiet and seclusion he wished to lead.
There was one part of his story to which I could scarcely give credit.
It was said that in the twelve or fifteen years he had resided in this
place, he had been occasionally invisible for months together, and no
one could tell why he disappeared, or whither he had gone. At these
times his cell was closed; and although none ventured to force their
way into it, those who were the most prying could hear no sound indicating
that he was within. Various were the conjectures formed on the subject.
Some supposed that he withdrew from the sight of men for the purpose
of more fervent prayer and more holy meditation; others, that he visited
his home, or some other distant country. The more superstitious believed
that he had, by a kind of metempsychosis, taken a new shape, which, by
some magical or supernatural power, he could assume and put off at
pleasure. This opinion was perhaps the most prevalent, as it gained a
colour with these simple people, from the chemical and astronomical
instruments he possessed. In these he evidently took great pleasure,
and by their means he acquired some of the knowledge by which he so
often excited their admiration.
He soon distinguished me from the rest of his visitors, by addressing
questions to me relative to my history and adventures; and I, in turn,
was gratified to have met with one who took an interest in my concerns,
and who alone, of all I had here met with, could either enter into my
feelings or comprehend my opinions. Our conversations were carried on
in English, which he spoke with facility and correctness. We soon found
ourselves so much to each other's taste, that there was seldom an evening
that I did not make him a visit, and pass an hour or two in his company.
I learnt from him that he was born and bred at Benares, in Hindostan;
that he had been intended for the priesthood, and had been well instructed
in the literature of the east. That a course of untoward circumstances,
upon which he seemed unwilling to dwell, had changed his destination,
and made him a wanderer on the face of the earth. That in the neighbouring
kingdom of Siam he had formed an intimacy with a learned French Jesuit,
who had not only taught him his language, but imparted to him a knowledge
of much of the science of Europe, its institutions and manners. That after
the death of this friend, he had renewed his wanderings; and having been
detained in this village by a fit of sickness for some weeks, he was
warned that it was time to quit his rambling life. This place being
recommended to him, both by its quiet seclusion, and the unsophisticated
manners of its inhabitants, he determined to pass the remnant of his days
here, and, by devoting them to the purposes of piety, charity, and
science, to discharge his duty to his Creator, his species, and himself;
"for the love of knowledge," he added, "has long been my chief source of
selfish enjoyment."
Our tastes and sentiments accorded in so many points, that our acquaintance
ripened by degrees into the closest friendship. We were both
strangers--both unfortunate; and were the only individuals here who had any
knowledge of letters, or of distant parts of the world. These are, indeed,
the main springs of that sympathy, without which there is no love among
men. It is being overwise, to treat with contempt what mankind hold in
respect: and philosophy teaches us not to extinguish our feelings, but to
correct and refine them. My visits to the hermitage were frequently renewed
at first, because they afforded me the relief of variety, whilst his
intimate knowledge of men and things--his remarkable sagacity and good
sense--his air of mingled piety and benignity,--cheated me into
forgetfulness of my situation. As these gradually yielded to the lenitive
power of time, I sought his conversation for the positive pleasure it
afforded, and at last it became the chief source of my happiness. Day after
day, and month after month, glided on in this gentle, unvarying current,
for more than three years; during which period he had occasionally thrown
out dark hints that the time would come when I should be restored to
liberty, and that he had an important secret, which he would one day
communicate. I should have been more tantalized with the expectations that
these remarks were calculated to raise, had I not suspected them to be a
good-natured artifice, to save me from despondency, as they were never made
except when he saw me looking serious and thoughtful.
_The Brahmin's illness--He reveals an important secret to Atterley--
Curious information concerning the Moon--The Glonglims--They plan a
voyage to the Moon._
About this period, one afternoon in the month of March, when I repaired
to the hermitage as usual, I found my venerable friend stretched on his
humble pallet, breathing very quickly, and seemingly in great pain. He
was labouring under a pleurisy, which is not unfrequent in the mountainous
region, at this season. He told me that his disease had not yielded to
the ordinary remedies which he had tried when he first felt its approach,
and that he considered himself to be dangerously ill. "I am, however,"
he added, "prepared to die. Sit down on that block, and listen to what
I shall say to you. Though I shall quit this state of being for another
and a better, I confess that I was alarmed at the thought of expiring,
before I had an opportunity of seeing and conversing with you. I am the
depository of a secret, that I believe is known to no other living mortal.
I once determined that it should die with me; and had I not met with you,
it certainly should. But from our first acquaintance, my heart has been
strongly attracted towards you; and as soon as I found you possessed
of qualities to inspire esteem as well as regard, I felt disposed to
give you this proof of my confidence. Still I hesitated. I first wished
to deliberate on the probable effects of my disclosure upon the condition
of society. I saw that it might produce evil, as well as good; but on
weighing the two together, I have satisfied myself that the good will
preponderate, and have determined to act accordingly. Take this key,
(stretching out his feverish hand,) and after waiting two hours, in
which time the medicine I have taken will have either produced a good
effect, or put an end to my sufferings, you may then open that blue
chest in the corner. It has a false bottom. On removing the paper which
covers it, you will find the manuscript containing the important secret,
together with some gold pieces, which I have saved for the day of
need--because--(and he smiled in spite of his sufferings)--because
hoarding is one of the pleasures of old men. Take them both, and use
them discreetly. When I am gone, I request you, my friend, to discharge
the last sad duties of humanity, and to see me buried according to the
usages of my caste. The simple beings around me will then behold that
I am mortal like themselves. And let this precious relic of female
loveliness and worth, (taking a small picture, set in gold, from his
bosom,) be buried with me. It has been warmed by my heart's blood for
twenty-five years: let it be still near that heart when it ceases
to beat. I have yet more to say to you; but my strength is too much
The good old man here closed his eyes, with an expression of patient
resignation, and rather as if he courted sleep than felt inclined to it:
and, after shutting the door of his cell, I repaired to his little
garden, to pass the allotted two hours. Left to my meditations, when
I thought that I was probably about to be deprived for ever of the
Hermit's conversation and society, I felt the wretchedness of my situation
recur with all its former force. I sat down on a smooth rock under a
tamarind tree, the scene of many an interesting conference between the
Brahmin and myself; and I cast my eyes around--but how changed was every
thing before me! I no longer regarded the sparkling eddies of the little
cascade which fell down a steep rock at the upper end of the garden, and
formed a pellucid basin below. The gay flowers and rich foliage of this
genial climate--the bright plumage and cheerful notes of the birds--were
all there; but my mind was not in a state to relish them. I arose, and in
extreme agitation rambled over this little Eden, in which I had passed so
many delightful hours.
Before the allotted time had elapsed--shall I confess it?--my fears for
the Hermit were overcome by those that were purely selfish. It occurred
to me, if he should thus suddenly die, and I be found alone in his cell,
I might be charged with being his murderer; and my courage, which, from
long inaction, had sadly declined of late, deserted me at the thought.
After the most torturing suspense, the dial at length showed me that the
two hours had elapsed, and I hastened to the cell.
I paused a moment at the door, afraid to enter, or even look in; made one
or two steps, and hearing no sound, concluded that all was over with the
Hermit, and that my own doom was sealed. My delight was inexpressible,
therefore, when I perceived that he still breathed, and when, on drawing
nearer, I found that he slept soundly. In a moment I passed from misery
to bliss. I seated myself by his side, and there remained for more than
an hour, enjoying the transition of my feelings. At length he awoke, and
casting on me a look of placid benignity, said,--"Atterley, my time is
not yet come. Though resigned to death, I am content to live. The worst
is over. I am already almost restored to health." I then administered to
him some refreshments, and, after a while, left him to repose. On again
repairing to the garden, every object assumed its wonted appearance. The
fragrance of the orange and the jasmine was no longer lost to me. The
humming birds, which swarmed round the flowering cytisus and the beautiful
water-fall, once more delighted the eye and the ear. I took my usual
bath, as the sun was sinking below the mountain; and, finding the Hermit
still soundly sleeping, I threw myself on a seat, under the shelter of
some bamboos, fell asleep, and did not awake until late the next morning.
When I arose, I found the good Brahmin up, and, though much weakened by
his disease, able to walk about. He told me that the Mirvoon, uneasy at
my not returning as usual in the evening, had sent in search of me, and
that the servant, finding me safe, was content to return without me. He
advised me, however, not to repeat the same cause of alarm. Sing Fou, on
hearing my explanation, readily forgave me for the uneasiness I had
caused him. After a few days, the Brahmin recovered his ordinary health
and strength; and having attended him at an earlier hour than usual,
according to his request on the previous evening, he thus addressed
"I have already told you, my dear Atterley, that I was born and educated
at Benares, and that science is there more thoroughly understood and
taught than the people of the west are aware of. We have, for many
thousands of years, been good astronomers, chymists, mathematicians, and
philosophers. We had discovered the secret of gunpowder, the magnetic
attraction, the properties of electricity, long before they were heard of
in Europe. We know more than we have revealed; and much of our knowledge
is deposited in the archives of the caste to which I belong; but, for
want of a language generally understood and easily learnt, (for these
records are always written in the Sanscrit, that is no longer a spoken
language,) and the diffusion which is given by the art of printing,
these secrets of science are communicated only to a few, and sometimes
even sleep with their authors, until a subsequent discovery, under more
favourable circumstances, brings them again to light.
"It was at this seat of science that I learnt, from one of our sages,
the physical truth which I am now about to communicate, and which he
discovered, partly by his researches into the writings of ancient Pundits,
and partly by his own extraordinary sagacity. There is a principle of
repulsion as well as gravitation in the earth. It causes fire to rise
upwards. It is exhibited in electricity. It occasions water-spouts,
volcanoes, and earthquakes. After much labour and research, this principle
has been found embodied in a metallic substance, which is met with in the
mountain in which we are, united with a very heavy earth; and this
circumstance had great influence in inducing me to settle myself here.
"This metal, when separated and purified, has as great a tendency to
fly off from the earth, as a piece of gold or lead has to approach it.
After making a number of curious experiments with it, we bethought
ourselves of putting it to some use, and soon contrived, with the aid
of it, to make cars and ascend into the air. We were very secret in
these operations; for our unhappy country having then recently fallen
under the subjection of the British nation, we apprehended that if we
divulged our arcanum, they would not only fly away with all our treasures,
whether found in palace or pagoda, but also carry off the inhabitants,
to make them slaves in their colonies, as their government had not then
abolished the African slave trade.
"After various trials and many successive improvements, in which our
desires increased with our success, we determined to penetrate the
aerial void as far as we could, providing for that purpose an apparatus,
with which you will become better acquainted hereafter. In the course
of our experiments, we discovered that this same metal, which was repelled
from the earth, was in the same degree attracted towards the moon; for in
one of our excursions, still aiming to ascend higher than we had ever
done before, we were actually carried to that satellite; and if we had
not there fallen into a lake, and our machine had not been water-tight,
we must have been dashed to pieces or drowned. You will find in this
book," he added, presenting me with a small volume, bound in green
parchment, and fastened with silver clasps, "a minute detail of the
apparatus to be provided, and the directions to be pursued in making
this wonderful voyage. I have written it since I satisfied my mind that
my fears of British rapacity were unfounded, and that I should do more
good than harm by publishing the secret. But still I am not sure,"
he added, with one of his faint but significant smiles, "that I am
not actuated by a wish to immortalize my name; for where is the mortal
who would be indifferent to this object, if he thought he could attain it?
Read the book at your leisure, and study it."
I listened to this recital with astonishment; and doubted at first,
whether the Brahmin's late severe attack had not had the effect of
unsettling his brain: but on looking in his face, the calm self-possession
and intelligence which it exhibited, dispelled the momentary impression.
I was all impatience to know the adventures he met with in the moon,
asking him fifty questions in a breath, but was most anxious to learn
if it had inhabitants, and what sort of beings they were.
"Yes," said he, "the moon has inhabitants, pretty much the same as the
earth, of which they believe their globe to have been formerly a part.
But suspend your questions, and let me give you a recital of the most
remarkable things I saw there."
I checked my impatience, and listened with all my ears to the wonders
he related. He went on to inform me that the inhabitants of the moon
resembled those of the earth, in form, stature, features, and manners,
and were evidently of the same species, as they did not differ more than
did the Hottentot from the Parisian. That they had similar passions,
propensities, and pursuits, but differed greatly in manners and habits.
They had more activity, but less strength: they were feebler in mind as
well as body. But the most curious part of his information was, that a
large number of them were born without any intellectual vigour, and
wandered about as so many automatons, under the care of the government,
until they were illuminated with the mental ray from some earthly brains,
by means of the mysterious influence which the moon is known to exercise
on our planet. But in this case the inhabitant of the earth loses what
the inhabitant of the moon gains--the ordinary portion of understanding
allotted to one mortal being thus divided between two; and, as might be
expected, seeing that the two minds were originally the same, there is a
most exact conformity between the man of the earth and his counterpart in
the moon, in all their principles of action and modes of thinking.
These Glonglims, as they are called, after they have been thus imbued
with intellect, are held in peculiar respect by the vulgar, and are
thought to be in every way superior to those whose understandings are
entire. The laws by which two objects, so far apart, operate on each
other, have been, as yet, but imperfectly developed, and the wilder
their freaks, the more they are the objects of wonder and admiration.
"The science of _lunarology_," he observed, "is yet in its infancy.
But in the three voyages I have made to the moon, I have acquired so
many new facts, and imparted so many to the learned men of that planet,
that it is, without doubt, the subject of their active speculations
at this time, and will, probably, assume a regular form long before the
new science of phrenology of which you tell me, and which it must, in
time, supersede. Now and then, though very rarely, the man of the earth
regains the intellect he has lost; in which case his lunar counterpart
returns to his former state of imbecility. Both parties are entirely
unconscious of the change--one, of what he has lost, and the other of
what he has gained."
The Brahmin then added: "Though our party are the only voyagers of which
authentic history affords any testimony, yet it is probable, from obscure
hints in some of our most ancient writings in the Sanscrit, that the
voyage has been made in remote periods of antiquity; and the Lunarians
have a similar tradition. While, in the revolutions which have so changed
the affairs of mankind on our globe, (and probably in its satellite,)
the art has been lost, faint traces of its existence may be perceived
in the opinions of the vulgar, and in many of their ordinary forms of
expression. Thus it is generally believed throughout all Asia, that the
moon has an influence on the brain; and when a man is of insane mind, we
call him a lunatic. One of the curses of the common people is, 'May the
moon eat up your brains;' and in China they say of a man who has done
any act of egregious folly, 'He was gathering wool in the moon.'"
I was struck with these remarks, and told the Hermit that the language
of Europe afforded the same indirect evidence of the fact he mentioned:
that my own language especially, abounded with expressions which could
be explained on no other hypothesis;--for, besides the terms "lunacy,"
"lunatic," and the supposed influence of the moon on the brain, when we
see symptoms of a disordered intellect, we say the mind _wanders_,
which evidently alludes to a part of it rambling to a distant region, as
is the moon. We say too, a man is "_out of his head_," that is, his
mind being in another man's head, must of course be out of his own.
To "know no more than the man in the moon," is a proverbial expression
for ignorance, and is without meaning, unless it be considered to refer
to the Glonglims. We say that an insane man is "distracted;" by which we
mean that his mind is drawn two different ways. So also, we call a
lunatic _a man beside himself_, which most distinctly expresses the two
distinct bodies his mind now animates. There are, moreover, many other
analogous expressions, as "moonstruck," "deranged," "extravagant," and
some others, which, altogether, form a mass of concurring testimony that
it is impossible to resist.
"Be that as it may," said he, "whether the voyage has been made in former
times or not, is of little importance: it is sufficient for us to know
that it has been effected in our time, and can be effected again. I am
anxious to repeat the voyage, for the purpose of ascertaining some facts,
about which I have been lately speculating; and I wish, besides, to
afford you ocular demonstration of the wonders I have disclosed; for,
in spite of your good opinion of my veracity, I have sometimes perceived
symptoms of incredulity about you, and I do not wonder at it."
The love of the marvellous, and the wish for a change, which had long
slumbered in my bosom, were now suddenly awakened, and I eagerly caught
at his proposal.
"When can we set out, father?" said I.
"Not so fast," replied he; "we have a great deal of preparation to make.
Our apparatus requires the best workmanship, and we cannot here command
either first-rate articles or materials, without incurring the risk of
suspicion and interruption. While most of the simple villagers are
kindly disposed towards me, there are a few who regard me with distrust
and malevolence, and would readily avail themselves of an opportunity
to bring me under the censure of the priesthood and the government.
Besides, the governor of Mergui would probably be glad to lay hold of
any plausible evidence against you, as affording him the best chance of
avoiding any future reckoning either with you or his superiors. We must
therefore be very secret in our plans. I know an ingenious artificer
in copper and other metals, whose only child I was instrumental in curing
of scrofula, and in whose fidelity, as well as good will, I can safely
rely. But we must give him time. He can construct our machine at home,
and we must take our departure from that place in the night."
CHAPTER III.
_The Brahmin and Atterley prepare for their voyage--Description of their
machine--Incidents of the voyage--The appearance of the earth; Africa;
Greece--The Brahmin's speculations on the different races of men--National
Having thus formed our plan of operations, we the next day proceeded to
put them in execution. The coppersmith agreed to undertake the work
we wanted done, for a moderate compensation; but we did not think it
prudent to inform him of our object, which he supposed was to make some
philosophical experiment. It was forthwith arranged that he should
occasionally visit the Hermit, to receive instructions, as if for the
purpose of asking medical advice. During this interval my mind was
absorbed with our project; and when in company, I was so thoughtful
and abstracted, that it has since seemed strange to me that Sing Fou's
suspicions that I was planning my escape were not more excited. At
length, by dint of great exertion, in about three months every thing
was in readiness, and we determined on the following night to set out
on our perilous expedition.
The machine in which we proposed to embark, was a copper vessel, that
would have been an exact cube of six feet, if the corners and edges
had not been rounded off. It had an opening large enough to receive
our bodies, which was closed by double sliding pannels, with quilted
cloth between them. When these were properly adjusted, the machine
was perfectly air-tight, and strong enough, by means of iron bars running
alternately inside and out, to resist the pressure of the atmosphere,
when the machine should be exhausted of its air, as we took the precaution
to prove by the aid of an air-pump. On the top of the copper chest
and on the outside, we had as much of the lunar metal (which I shall
henceforth call _lunarium_) as we found, by calculation and experiment,
would overcome the weight of the machine, as well as its contents,
and take us to the moon on the third day. As the air which the machine
contained, would not be sufficient for our respiration more than about
six hours, and the chief part of the space we were to pass through was
a mere void, we provided ourselves with a sufficient supply, by condensing
it in a small globular vessel, made partly of iron and partly of lunarium,
to take off its weight. On my return, I gave Mr. Jacob Perkins, who
is now in England, a hint of this plan of condensation, and it has
there obtained him great celebrity. This fact I should not have thought
it worth while to mention, had he not taken the sole merit of the
invention to himself; at least I cannot hear that in his numerous public
notices he has ever mentioned my name.
But to return. A small circular window, made of a single piece of thick
clear glass, was neatly fitted on each of the six sides. Several pieces
of lead were securely fastened to screws which passed through the bottom
of the machine; as well as a thick plank. The screws were so contrived,
that by turning them in one direction, the pieces of lead attached
to them were immediately disengaged from the hooks with which they
were connected. The pieces of lunarium were fastened in like manner
to screws, which passed through the top of the machine; so that by
turning them in one direction, those metallic pieces would fly into
the air with the velocity of a rocket. The Brahmin took with him a
thermometer, two telescopes, one of which projected through the top
of the machine, and the other through the bottom; a phosphoric lamp,
pen, ink, and paper, and some light refreshments sufficient to supply
us for some days.
The moon was then in her third quarter, and near the zenith: it was, of
course, a little after midnight, and when the coppersmith and his family
were in their soundest sleep, that we entered the machine. In about an hour
more we had the doors secured, and every thing arranged in its place, when,
cutting the cords which fastened us to the ground, by means of small steel
blades which worked in the ends of other screws, we rose from the earth
with a whizzing sound, and a sensation at first of very rapid ascent: but
after a short time, we were scarcely sensible of any motion in the machine,
except when we changed our places.
The ardent curiosity I had felt to behold the wonderful things which the
Brahmin related, and the hope of returning soon to my children and native
country, had made me most impatient for the moment of departure; during
which time the hazards and difficulties of the voyage were entirely
overlooked: but now that the moment of execution had arrived, and I found
myself shut up in this small chest, and about to enter on a voyage so new,
so strange, and beset with such a variety of dangers, I will not deny that
my courage failed me, and I would gladly have compromised to return to
Mozaun, and remain there quietly all the rest of my days. But shame
restrained me, and I dissembled my emotions.
At our first shock on leaving the earth, my fears were at their height; but
after about two hours, I had tolerably well regained my composure, to which
the returning light of day greatly contributed. By this time we had a full
view of the rising sun, pouring a flood of light over one half of the
circular landscape below us, and leaving the rest in shade. While those
natural objects, the rivers and mountains, land and sea, were fast receding
from our view, our horizon kept gradually extending as we mounted: but ere
10 o'clock this effect ceased, and the broad disc of the earth began
sensibly to diminish.
It is impossible to describe my sensations of mingled awe and admiration at
the splendid spectacle beneath me, so long as the different portions of the
earth's surface were plainly distinguishable. The novelty of the situation
in which I found myself, as well as its danger, prevented me indeed at
first from giving more than a passing attention to the magnificent scene;
but after a while, encouraged by the Brahmin's exhortation, and yet more by
the example of his calm and assured air, I was able to take a more
leisurely view of it. At first, as we partook of the diurnal motion of the
earth, and our course was consequently oblique, the same portion of the
globe from which we had set out, continued directly under us; and as the
eye stretched in every direction over Asia and its seas, continents and
islands, they appeared like pieces of green velvet, the surrounding ocean
like a mirror, and the Ganges, the Hoogley, and the great rivers of China,
like threads of silver.
About 11 o'clock it was necessary to get a fresh supply of air, when
my companion cautiously turned one of the two stop-cocks to let out
that which was no longer fit for respiration, requesting me, at the
same time, to turn the other, to let in a fresh supply of condensed
air; but being awkward in the first attempt to follow his directions,
I was so affected by the exhaustion of the air through the vent now
made for it, that I fainted; and having, at the same time, given freer
passage to the condensed air than I ought, we must in a few seconds
have lost our supply, and thus have inevitably perished, had not the
watchful Hermit seen the mischief, and repaired it almost as soon as
it occurred. This accident, and the various agitations my mind had
undergone in the course of the day, so overpowered me, that at an early
hour in the afternoon I fell into a profound sleep, and did not awake
again for eight hours.
While I slept, the good Brahmin had contrived to manage both stop-cocks
himself. The time of my waking would have been about 11 o'clock at night,
if we had continued on the earth; but we were now in a region where there
was no alternation of day and night, but one unvarying cloudless sun. Its
heat, however, was not in proportion to its brightness; for we found that
after we had ascended a few miles from the earth, it was becoming much
colder, and the Brahmin had recourse to a chemical process for evolving
heat, which soon made us comfortable: but after we were fairly in the great
aerial void, the temperature of our machine showed no tendency to change.
The sensations caused by the novelty of my situation, at first checked
those lively and varied trains of thought which the bird's-eye view of so
many countries passing in review before us, was calculated to excite: yet,
after I had become more familiar with it, I contemplated the beautiful
exhibition with inexpressible delight. Besides, a glass of cordial, as well
as the calm, confiding air of the Brahmin, contributed to restore me to my
self-possession. The reader will recollect, that although our motion, at
first, partook of that of the earth's on its axis, and although the
_positive_ effect was the same on our course, the _relative_ effect was
less and less as we ascended, and consequently, that after a certain
height, every part of the terraqueous globe would present itself to our
view in succession, as we rapidly receded from it. At 9 o'clock, the whole
of India was a little to the west of us, and we saw, as in a map, that
fertile and populous region, which has been so strangely reduced to
subjection, by a company of merchants belonging to a country on the
opposite side of the globe--a country not equal to one-fourth of it, in
extent or population. Its rivers were like small filaments of silver; the
Red Sea resembled a narrow plate of the same metal. The peninsula of India
was of a darker, and Arabia of a light and more grayish green.
The sun's rays striking obliquely on the Atlantic, emitted an effulgence
that was dazzling to the eyes. For two or three hours the appearance
of the earth did not greatly vary, the wider extent of surface we could
survey, compensating for our greater distance; and indeed at that time
we could not see the whole horizon, without putting our eyes close to
When the Brahmin saw that I had overcome my first surprise, and had
acquired somewhat of his own composure, he manifested a disposition
to beguile the time with conversation. "Look through the telescope,"
said he, "a little from the sun, and observe the continent of Africa,
which is presenting itself to our view." I took a hasty glance over
it, and perceived that its northern edge was fringed with green; then
a dull white belt marked the great Sahara, or Desert, and then it exhibited
a deep green again, to its most southern extremity. I tried in vain
to discover the pyramids, for our telescope had not sufficient power
to show them.
I observed to him, that less was known of this continent than of the
others: that a spirit of lively curiosity had been excited by the
western nations of Europe, to become acquainted with the inhabited
parts of the globe; but that all the efforts yet made, had still left
a large portion almost entirely unknown. I asked if he did not think it
probable that some of the nations in the interior of Africa were more
advanced in civilization than those on the coast, whose barbarous custom
of making slaves of their prisoners, Europeans had encouraged and
perpetuated, by purchasing them.
"No, no," said he; "the benefits of civilization could not have been so
easily confined, but would have spread themselves over every part of that
continent, or at least as far as the Great Desert, if they had ever
existed. The intense heat of a climate, lying on each side of the Line,
at once disinclines men to exertion, and renders it unnecessary. Vegetable
diet is more suited to them than animal, which favours a denser population.
Talent is elicited by the efforts required to overcome difficulties
and hardships; and their natural birth-place is a country of frost and
snow--of tempests--of sterility enough to give a spur to exertion, but
not enough to extinguish hope. Where these difficulties exist, and give
occasion to war and emulation, the powers of the human mind are most
frequently developed."
"Do you think then," said I, "that there is no such thing as natural
inferiority and differences of races?"
"I have been much perplexed by that question," said he. "When I regard
the great masses of mankind, I think there seems to be among them some
characteristic differences. I see that the Europeans have every where
obtained the ascendancy over those who inhabit the other quarters of
the globe. But when I compare individuals, I see always the same passions,
the same motives, the same mental operations; and my opinion is changed.
The same seed becomes a very different plant when sowed in one soil or
another, and put under this or that mode of cultivation."
"And may not," said I, "the very nature of the plant be changed, after a
long continuance of the same culture in the same soil?"
"Why, that is but another mode of stating the question. I rather think,
if it has generally degenerated, it may, by opposite treatment, be also
gradually brought back to its original excellence."
"Who knows, then," said I, "what our missionaries and colonization
societies may effect in Africa."
He inquired of me what these societies were; and on explaining their
history, observed: "By what you tell me, it is indeed a small beginning;
but if they can get this grain of mustard-seed to grow, there is no
saying how much it may multiply. See what a handful of colonists have
done in your own country. A few ship-loads of English have overspread
half a continent; and, from what you tell me, their descendants will
amount, in another century, to more than one hundred millions. There is
no rule," he continued, "that can be laid down on this subject, to which
some nations cannot be found to furnish a striking exception. If mere
difficulties were all that were wanting to call forth the intellectual
energies of man, they have their full share on the borders of the Great
Desert. There are in that whitish tract which separates the countries
on the southern shores of the Mediterranean from the rest of Africa,
thousands of human beings at this moment toiling over that dreary ocean
of sand, to whom a draught of fresh water would be a blessing, and the
simplest meal a luxury.
"Perhaps, however, you will say they are so engrossed with the animal
wants of hunger and thirst, that they are incapable of attending to any
thing else. Be it so. But in the interior they are placed in parallel
circumstances with the natives of Europe: they are engaged in struggles
for territory and dominion--for their altars and their homes; and this
state of things, which has made some of them brave and warlike, has made
none poets or painters, historians or philosophers. There, poetry has not
wanted themes of great achievement and noble daring; but heroes have
wanted poets. Nor can we justly ascribe the difference to the enervating
influence of climate, for the temperature of the most southern parts of
Africa differs little from that of Greece. And the tropical nations, too,
of your own continent, the Peruvians, were more improved than those who
inhabited the temperate regions. Besides, though the climate had instilled
softness and feebleness of character, it might also have permitted the
cultivation of the arts, as has been the case with us in Asia. On the
whole, without our being able to pronounce with certainty on the subject,
it does seem probable that some organic difference exists in the various
races of mankind, to which their diversities of moral and intellectual
character may in part be referred."--By this time the Morea and the
Grecian Archipelago were directly under our telescope.
"Does not Greece," said I, "furnish the clearest proof of the influence
of moral causes on the character of nations? Compare what that country
formerly was, with what it now is. Once superior to all the rest of the
habitable globe, (of which it did not constitute the thousandth part,)
in letters, arts, and arms, and all that distinguishes men from brutes;
not merely in their own estimation, (for all nations are disposed to rate
themselves high enough,) but by the general consent of the rest of the
world. Do not the most improved and civilized of modern states still take
them as their instructors and guides in every species of literature--in
philosophy, history, oratory, poetry, architecture, and sculpture? And
those too, who have attained superiority over the world, in arms, yield
a voluntary subjection to the Greeks in the arts. The cause of their
former excellence and their present inferiority, is no doubt to be found
in their former freedom and their present slavery, and in the loss of
that emulation which seems indispensable to natural greatness."
"Nay," replied he, "I am very far from denying the influence of moral
causes on national character. The history of every country affords
abundant evidence of it. I mean only to say, that though it does much,
it does not do every thing. It seems more reasonable to impute the changes
in national character to the mutable habits and institutions of man,
than to nature, which is always the same. But if we look a little nearer,
we may perhaps perceive, that amidst all those mutations in the character
of nations, there are still some features that are common to the same
people at all times, and which it would therefore be reasonable to
impute to the great unvarying laws of nature. Thus it requires no
extraordinary acuteness of observation, no strained hypothesis, to
perceive a close resemblance between the Germans or the Britons of
antiquity and their modern descendants, after the lapse of eighteen
centuries, and an entire revolution in government, religion, language,
and laws. And travellers still perceive among the inhabitants of modern
Greece, deteriorated and debased as they are by political servitude,
many of those qualities which distinguished their predecessors: the
same natural acuteness--the same sensibility to pleasure--the same
pliancy of mind and elasticity of body--the same aptitude for the arts
of imitation--and the same striking physiognomy. That bright, serene
sky--that happy combination of land and water, constituting the perfection
of the picturesque, and that balmy softness of its air, which have proved
themselves so propitious to forms of beauty, agility, and strength, also
operate benignantly on the mind which animates them. Whilst the fruit
is still fair to the eye, it is not probable that it has permanently
degenerated in fragrance or flavour. The great diversities of national
character may, perhaps, be attributed principally to moral and accidental
causes, but partly also to climate, and to original diversities in the
different races of man."
_Continuation of the voyage--View of Europe; Atlantic Ocean; America--
Speculations on the future destiny of the United States--Moral reflections
--Pacific Ocean--Hypothesis on the origin of the Moon._
By this time the whole Mediterranean Sea, which, with the Arabian Gulf,
was seen to separate Africa from Europe and Asia, was full in our view.
The political divisions of these quarters of the world were, of course,
undistinguishable; and few of the natural were discernible by the naked
eye. The Alps were marked by a white streak, though less bright than the
water. By the aid of our glass, we could just discern the Danube, the
Nile, and a river which empties itself into the Gulf of Guinea, and which
I took to be the Niger: but the other streams were not perceptible. The
most conspicuous object of the solid part of the globe, was the Great
Desert before mentioned. The whole of Africa, indeed, was of a lighter hue
than either Asia or Europe, owing, I presume, to its having a greater
proportion of sandy soil: and I could not avoid contrasting, in my mind,
the colour of these continents, as they now appeared, with the complexions
of their respective inhabitants.
I was struck too, with the vast disproportion which the extent of the
several countries of the earth bore to the part they had acted in history,
and the influence they had exerted on human affairs. The British islands
had diminished to a speck, and France was little larger; yet, a few
years ago it seemed, at least to us in the United States, as if there
were no other nations on the earth. The Brahmin, who was well read in
European history, on my making a remark on this subject, reminded me that
Athens and Sparta had once obtained almost equal celebrity, although
they were so small as not now to be visible. As I slowly passed the
telescope over the face of Europe, I pictured to myself the fat, plodding
Hollander--the patient, contemplative German--the ingenious, sensual
Italian--the temperate Swiss--the haughty, superstitious Spaniard--the
sprightly, self-complacent Frenchman--the sullen and reflecting Englishman
--who monopolize nearly all the science and literature of the earth,
to which they bear so small a proportion. As the Atlantic fell under our
view, two faint circles on each side of the equator, were to be perceived
by the naked eye. They were less bright than the rest of the ocean. The
Brahmin suggested that they might be currents; which brought to my memory
Dr. Franklin's conjecture on the subject, now completely verified by this
circular line of vapour, as it had been previously rendered probable by
the floating substances, which had been occasionally picked up, at great
distances from the places where they had been thrown into the ocean. The
circle was whiter and more distinct, where the Gulf Stream runs parallel
to the American coast, and gradually grew fainter as it passed along the
Banks of Newfoundland, to the coast of Europe, where, taking a southerly
direction, the line of the circle was barely discernible. A similar circle
of vapour, though less defined and complete, was perceived in the South
Atlantic Ocean.
When the coast of my own beloved country first presented itself to my
view, I experienced the liveliest emotions; and I felt so anxious to see
my children and friends, that I would gladly have given up all the
promised pleasures of our expedition. I even ventured to hint my feelings
to the Brahmin; but he, gently rebuking my impatience, said--
"If to return home had been your only object, and not to see what not one
of your nation or race has ever yet seen, you ought to have so informed
me, that we might have arranged matters accordingly. I do not wish you
to return to your country, until you will be enabled to make yourself
welcome and useful there, by what you may see in the lunar world. Take
courage, then, my friend; you have passed the worst; and, as the proverb
says, do not, when you have swallowed the ox, now choke at the tail.
Besides, although we made all possible haste in descending, we should,
ere we reached the surface, find ourselves to the west of your continent,
and be compelled then to choose between some part of Asia or the Pacific
"Let us then proceed," said I, mortified at the imputation on my courage,
and influenced yet more, perhaps, by the last argument. The Brahmin then
tried to soothe my disappointment, by his remarks on my native land.
"I have a great curiosity," said he, "to see a country where a man, by
his labour, can earn as much in a month as will procure him bread, and
meat too, for the whole year; in a week, as will pay his dues to the
government; and in one or two days, as will buy him an acre of good land:
where every man preaches whatever religion he pleases; where the priests
of the different sects never fight, and seldom quarrel; and, stranger
than all, where the authority of government derives no aid from an army,
and that of the priests no support from the law."
I told him, when he should see these things in operation with his
own eyes, as I trusted he would, if it pleased heaven to favour our
undertakings, they would appear less strange. I reminded him of the
peculiar circumstances under which our countrymen had commenced their
"In all other countries," said I, "civilization and population have
gone hand in hand; and the necessity of an increasing subsistence
for increasing numbers, has been the parent of useful arts and of
social improvement. In every successive stage of their advancement,
such countries have equally felt the evils occasioned by a scanty and
precarious subsistence. In America, however, the people are in the full
enjoyment of all the arts of civilization, while they are unrestricted
in their means of subsistence, and consequently in their power of
multiplication. From this singular state of things, two consequences
result. One is, that the progress of the nation in wealth, power, and
greatness, is more rapid than the world has ever before witnessed.
Another is, that our people, being less cramped and fettered by their
necessities, and feeling, of course, less of those moral evils which
poverty and discomfort engender, their character, moral and intellectual,
will be developed and matured with greater celerity, and, I incline
to think, carried to a higher point of excellence than has ever yet
been attained. I anticipate for them the eloquence and art of Athens--the
courage and love of country of Sparta--the constancy and military prowess
of the Romans--the science and literature of England and France--the
industry of the Dutch--the temperance and obedience to the laws of the
Swiss. In fifty years, their numbers will amount to forty millions; in
a century, to one hundred and sixty millions; in two centuries, (allowing
for a decreasing rate of multiplication,) to three or four hundred
millions. Nor does it seem impossible that, from the structure of their
government, they may continue united for a few great national purposes,
while each State may make the laws that are suited to its peculiar habits,
character, and circumstances. In another half century, they will extend
the Christian religion and the English language to the Pacific Ocean.
"To the south of them, on the same continent, other great nations will
arise, who, if they were to be equally united, might contend in terrible
conflicts for the mastery of this great continent, and even of the world.
But when they shall be completely liberated from the yoke of Spanish
dominion, and have for some time enjoyed that full possession of their
faculties and energies which liberty only can give, they will probably
split into distinct States. United, at first, by the sympathy of men
struggling in the same cause, and by similarity of manners and religion,
they will, after a while, do as men always have done, quarrel and fight;
and these wars will check their social improvement, and mar their
political hopes. Whether they will successively fall under the dominion
of one able and fortunate leader, or, like the motley sovereignties of
Europe, preserve their integrity by their mutual jealousy, time only can
"Your reasoning about the natives of Spanish America appears very
probable," said the Brahmin; "but is it not equally applicable to your
own country ?"
I reminded him of the peculiar advantages of our government. He shook
"No, Atterley," said he, "do not deceive yourself. The duration of every
species of polity is uncertain; the works of nature alone are permanent.
The motions of the heavenly bodies are the same as they were thousands
of years ago. But not so with the works of man. He is the identical animal
that he ever was. His political institutions, however cunningly devised,
have always been yet more perishable than his structures of stone and
marble. This is according to all past history: and do not, therefore,
count upon an exception in your favour, that would be little short of
the miraculous. But," he good-naturedly added, "such a miracle may take
place in your system; and, although I do not expect it, I sincerely
We were now able to see one half of the broad expanse of the Pacific,
which glistened with the brightness of quicksilver or polished steel.
"Cast your eyes to the north," said he, "and see where your continent
and mine approach so near as almost to touch. Both these coasts are
at this time thinly inhabited by a rude and miserable people, whose
whole time is spent in struggling against the rigours of their dreary
climate, and the scantiness of its productions. Yet, perhaps the Indians
and the Kamtschadales will be gradually moulded into a hardy, civilized
people: and here may be the scene of many a fierce conflict between your
people and the Russians, whose numbers, now four times as great as yours,
increase almost as rapidly."
He then amused me with accounts of the manners and mode of life of the
Hyperborean race, with whom he had once passed a summer. Glancing my eye
then to the south,--"See," said I, "while the Kamtschadale is providing
his supply of furs and of fish, for the long winter which is already
knocking at the door of his hut, the gay and voluptuous native of the
Sandwich and other islands between the tropics. How striking the contrast!
The one passes his life in ease, abundance, and enjoyment; the other in
toil, privation, and care. No inclemency of the seasons inflicts present
suffering on these happy islanders, or brings apprehensions for the
future. Nature presents them with her most delicious fruits spontaneously
and abundantly; and she has implanted in their breast a lively relish for
the favours she so lavishly bestows upon them."
The Brahmin, after musing a while, replied: "The difference is far less
than you imagine. Perhaps, on balancing their respective pleasures and
pains, the superior gain of the islander will be reduced to nothing: for,
as to the simplest source of gratification, that of palatable food, if
nature produces it more liberally in the islands, she also produces there
more mouths to consume it. The richest Kamtschadale may, indeed, oftener
go without a dinner than the richest Otaheitan; but it may be quite the
reverse with the poorest. Then, as to quality of the food: if nature
has provided more delicious fruits for the natives of tropical climates,
she has given a sharper appetite and stronger digestion to the Hyperborean,
which equalizes the sum of their enjoyments. A dry crust is relished, when
an individual is hungry, more than the most savoury and delicate dainties
when he is in a fever; and water to one man, is a more delicious beverage
than the juice of the grape or of the palm to another. As to the necessity
for labour, which is ever pressing on the inhabitants of cold countries,
it is this consequent and incessant activity which gives health to their
bodies, and cheerful vigour to their minds; since, without such exercise,
man would have been ever a prey to disease and discontent. And, if no
other occupation be provided for the mind of man, it carves out employment
for itself in vain regrets and gloomy forebodings--in jealousy, envy, and
the indulgence of every hateful and tormenting passion: hence the
proverb,--'If you want corn, cultivate your soil; if you want weeds, let
"But again: the native of those sunny isles is never sensible of the
bounty of Providence, till he is deprived of it. Here, as well as every
where else, desire outgoes gratification. Man sees or fancies much that
he cannot obtain; and in his regret for what he wants, forgets what he
already possesses. What is it to one with a tooth-ache, that a savoury
dish is placed before him? It is the same with the mind as the body: when
pain engrosses it in one way, it cannot relish pleasure in another. Every
climate and country too, have their own evils and inconveniences."
"You think, then," said I, "that the native of Kamtschatka has the
"No," he rejoined, "I do not mean to say that, for the evils of his
situation are likewise very great; but they are more manifest, and
therefore less necessary to be brought to your notice."
It was now, by our time-pieces, about two o'clock in the afternoon--that
is, two hours had elapsed since we left terra firma; and, saving a few
biscuits and a glass of cordial a-piece, we had not taken any sort of
refreshment. The Brahmin proposed that we now should dine; and, opening
a small case, and drawing forth a cold fowl, a piece of dried goat's
flesh, a small pot of ghee, some biscuits, and a bottle of arrack
flavoured with ginger and spices, with a larger one of water, we ate as
heartily as we had ever done at the hermitage; the slight motion of our
machine to one side or the other, whenever we moved, giving us nearly
as much exercise as a vessel in a smooth sea. The animal food had been
provided for me, for the Brahmin satisfied his hunger with the ghee,
sweetmeats, and biscuit, and ate sparingly even of them. We each took
two glasses of the cordial diluted with water, and carefully putting
back the fragments, again turned our thoughts to the planet we had left.
The middle of the Pacific now lay immediately beneath us. I had never
before been struck with the irregular distribution of land and water on
our globe, the expanse of ocean here being twice as large as in any
other part; and, on remarking this striking difference to the Brahmin,
"It is the opinion of some philosophers in the moon, that their globe
is a fragment of ours; and, as they can see every part of the earth's
surface, they believe the Pacific was the place from which the moon was
ejected. They pretend that a short, but consistent tradition of the
disruption, has regularly been transmitted from remote antiquity; and
they draw confirmation of their hypothesis from many words of the Chinese,
and other Orientals, with whom they claim affinity."
"Ridiculous!" said I; "the moon is one-fourth the diameter of the earth;
and if the two were united in one sphere, the highest mountains must
have been submerged, and of course there would have been no human
inhabitants; or, if any part of the land was then bare, on the waters
retiring to fill up the chasm made by the separation of so large a body
as the moon, the parts before habitable would be, instead of two, three,
or at most four miles, as your Himalah mountains are said to be, some
twenty or thirty miles above the level of the ocean."
"That is not quite so certain," said he: "we know not of what the interior
of the earth is composed, any more than we could distinguish the contents
of an egg, by penetrating one hundredth part of its shell. But we see,
that if one drop of water be united with another, they form one large
drop, as spherical as either of the two which composed it: and on the
separation of the moon from the earth, if they were composed of mingled
solids and fluids, or if the solid parts rested on fluid, both the
fragment and the remaining earth would assume the same globular appearance
they now present.
"On this subject, however, I give no opinion. I only say, that it is not
contradicted by the facts you have mentioned. The fluid and the solid
parts settling down into a new sphere, might still retain nearly their
former proportion: or, if the fragment took away a greater proportion
of solid than of fluid, then the waters retiring to fill up the cavity,
would leave parts bare which they had formerly covered. There are some
facts which give a colour to this supposition; for most of the high
mountains of the earth afford evidence of former submersion; and those
which are the highest, the Himalah, are situated in the country to which
the origin of civilization, and even the human species itself, may be
traced. The moon too, we know, has much less water than the earth: and
all those appearances of violence, which have so puzzled cosmogonists,
the topsy-turvy position in which vegetable substances are occasionally
found beneath the soil on which they grew, and the clear manifestations
of the action of water, in the formation of strata, in the undulating
forms it has left, and in the correspondent salient and retiring angles
of mountains and opposite coasts, were all caused by the disruption;
and as the moon has a smaller proportion of water than the earth, she
has also the highest mountains."
"But, father," said I, "the diameter of the earth being but four times
as large as that of the moon, how can the violent separation of so large
a portion of our planet be accounted for? Where is the mighty agent to
rend off such a mass, and throw it to thirty times the earth's diameter?"
"Upon that subject," said he, "the Lunarian sages are much divided.
Many hypotheses have been suggested on the subject, some of which are
very ingenious, and all very fanciful: but the two most celebrated, and
into which all the others are now merged, are those of Neerlego and
Darcandarca; the former of whom, in a treatise extending to nine quarto
volumes, has maintained that the disruption was caused by a comet; and
the latter, in a work yet more voluminous, has endeavoured to prove, that
when the materials of the moon composed a part of the earth, this planet
contained large masses of water, which, though the particles cohered with
each other, were disposed to fly off from the earth; and that, by an
accumulation of the electric fluid, according to laws which he has
attempted to explain, the force was at length sufficient to heave the
rocks which encompassed these masses, from their beds, and to project
them from the earth, when, partaking of the earth's diurnal motion, they
assumed a spherical form, and revolved around it. And further, that
because the moon is composed of two sorts of matter, that are differently
affected towards the earth in its revolution round that planet, the same
parts of its surface always maintain some relative position to us, which
thus necessarily causes the singularity of her turning on her axis
precisely in the time in which she revolves round the earth."
"I see," said I, "that doctors differ and dispute about their own fancies
every where."
"That is," said he, "because they contend as vehemently for what they
imagine as for what they see; and perhaps more so, as their _perceptions_
are like those of other men, while their _reveries_ are more exclusively
their own. Thus, in the present instance, the controversy turns upon the
mode in which the separation was effected, which affords the widest field
for conjecture, while they both agree that such separation has taken
place. As to this fact I have not yet made up my mind, though it must
be confessed that there is much to give plausibility to their opinion.
I recognise, for instance, a striking resemblance between the animal
and vegetable productions of Asia and those of the moon."
"Do you think, father," said I, "that animal, or even vegetable life,
could possibly exist in such a disruption as is supposed?"
"Why not?" said he: "you are not to imagine that the shock would be felt
in proportion to the mass that was moved. On the contrary, while it would
occasion, in some parts, a great destruction of life, it would, in others,
not be felt more than an earthquake, or rather, than a succession of
earthquakes, during the time that the different parts of the mass were
adjusting themselves to a spherical form; whilst a few pairs, or even a
single pair of animals, saved in some cavity of a mountain, would be
sufficient, in a few centuries, to stock the whole surface of the earth
with as many individuals as are now to be found on it.
"After all," he added, "it is often difficult in science to distinguish
Truth from the plausibility which personates her. But let us not, however,
be precipitate; let us but hear both sides. In the east we have a saying,
that 'he who hears with but one ear, never hears well.'"
_The voyage continued--Second view of Asia--The Brahmin's speculations
concerning India--Increase of the Moon's attraction--Appearance of the
Moon--They land on the Moon._
The dryness of the preceding discussion, which lay out of the course of
my studies, together with the effect of my dinner, began to make me a
little drowsy; whereupon the Brahmin urged me to take the repose which
it was clear I needed; remarking, that when I awoke, he would follow
my example. Reclining my head, then, on my cloak, in a few minutes my
senses were steeped in forgetfulness.
I slept about six hours most profoundly; and on waking, found the good
Brahmin busy with his calculations of our progress. I insisted on his
now taking some rest. After requesting me to wake him at the end of three
hours, (or sooner, if any thing of moment should occur,) and putting up
a short prayer, which was manifested by his looks, rather than by his
words, he laid himself down, and soon fell into a quiet sleep.
Left now to my own meditations, and unsupported by the example and
conversation of my friend, I felt my first apprehensions return, and
began seriously to regret my rashness in thus venturing on so bold an
experiment, which, however often repeated with success, must ever be
hazardous, and which could plead little more in its favour than a vain
and childish curiosity. I took up a book, but whilst my eye ran over the
page, I understood but little what I read, and could not relish even that.
I now looked down through the telescope, and found the earth surprisingly
diminished in her apparent dimensions, from the increased rapidity of our
ascent. The eastern coasts of Asia were still fully in view, as well as
the entire figure of that vast continent--of New Holland--of Ceylon, and
of Borneo; but the smaller islands were invisible. I strained my eye to
no purpose, to follow the indentations of the coast, according to the map
before me; the great bays and promontories could alone be perceived. The
Burman Empire, in one of the insignificant villages of which I had been
confined for a few years, was now reduced to a speck. The agreeable
hours I had passed with the Brahmin, with the little daughter of Sing Fou,
and my rambling over the neighbouring heights, all recurred to my mind,
and I almost regretted the pleasures I had relinquished. I tried, with
more success, to beguile the time by making notes in my journal; and after
having devoted about an hour to this object, I returned to the telescope,
and now took occasion to examine the figure of the earth near the Poles,
with a view of discovering whether its form favoured Captain Symmes's
theory of an aperture existing there; and I am convinced that that
ingenious gentleman is mistaken. Time passed so heavily during these
solitary occupations, that I looked at my watch every five minutes, and
could scarcely be persuaded it was not out of order. I then took up my
little Bible, (which had always been my travelling companion,) read a
few chapters in St. Matthew, and found my feelings tranquillized, and
my courage increased. The desired hour at length arrived; when, on waking
the old man, he alertly raised himself up, and at the first view of the
diminished appearance of the earth, observed that our journey was a third
over, as to time, but not as to distance. After a few moments, the Brahmin
again cast his eye towards his own natal soil; on beholding which, he
fetched a deep sigh, and, if I was not mistaken, I saw a rising tear.
"Alas!" said he, "my country and my countrymen, how different you are in
many respects from what I should wish you to be! And yet I do not love
you the less. Perhaps I love you the more for your faults, as well as
for your misfortunes.
"Our lot," continued he, "is a hard one. That quarter of the world has
sent letters, and arts, and religion abroad to adorn and benefit the
other four; and these, the chief of human blessings and glories, have
deserted us!"
I told him that I had heard the honours, which he claimed for India,
attributed to Egypt. He contended, with true love of country, great
plausibility, and an intimate knowledge of Oriental history, that letters
and the arts had been first transplanted from Asia into Egypt.
"No other part of Africa," said he, "saving Egypt, can boast of any
ancient monuments of the arts or of civilization. Even the pyramids,
the great boast of Egypt, are proofs of nothing more than ordinary patient
labour, directed by despotic power. Besides, look at that vast region,
extending five thousand miles from the Mediterranean to the Cape of Good
Hope, and four thousand from the Red Sea to the Atlantic. Its immense
surface contains only ignorant barbarians, who are as uncivilized now as
they were three thousand years ago. Is it likely that if civilization and
letters originated in Egypt, as is sometimes pretended, it would have
spread so extensively in one direction, and not at all in another?
I make no exception in favour of the Carthagenians, whose origin was
comparatively recent, and who, we know, were a colony from Asia."
I was obliged to admit the force of this reasoning; and, when he proceeded
to descant on the former glories and achievements of Asiatic nations,
and their sad reverses of fortune--while he freely spoke of the present
degradation and imbecility of his countrymen, he promptly resisted every
censure of mine. It was easy, indeed, to see that he secretly cherished
a hope that the day would come, when the whole of Hindostan would be
emancipated from its European masters, and assume that rank among nations
to which the genius of its inhabitants entitled it. He admitted that the
dominion of the English was less oppressive than that of their native
princes; but said, that there was this great difference between foreign
and domestic despotism,--that the former completely extinguished all
national pride, which is as much the cause as the effect of national
I asked him whether he thought if his countrymen were to shake off the
yoke of the English, they could maintain their independence?
"Undoubtedly," said he. "Who would be able to conquer us?"
I suggested to him that they might tempt the ambition of Russia; and
cautiously inquired, whether the abstinence from animal food might not
render his country much less capable of resistance; and whether it might
not serve to explain why India had so often been the prey of foreign
conquest? Of this, however, he would hear nothing; but replied, with
more impatience than was usual with him--
"It is true, Hindostan was invaded by Alexander--but not conquered; and
that it has since submitted, in succession, to the Arabians, to the
Tartars, under Genghis Khan, and under Tamerlane; to the Persians, under
Nadir Shah, and, finally, to the British. But there are few countries
of Europe which have not been conquered as often. That nation from which
you are descended, and to which mine is now subject, furnishes no
exception, as it has been subjugated, in succession, by the Romans, the
Danes, the Saxons, the Normans. And, as to courage, we see no difference
between those Asiatics who eat animal food as you do, and those who
abstain from it as I do. I am told that the Scotch peasantry eat much
less animal food than the English, and the Irish far less than they; and
yet, that these rank among the best troops of the British. But surely a
nation ought not to be suspected of fearing death, whose very women show
a contempt of life which no other people have exhibited."
This led us to talk of that strange custom of his country, which impels
the widow to throw herself on the funeral pile of her husband, and to be
consumed with him. I told him that it had often been represented as
compulsory--or, in other words, that it was said that every art and means
were resorted to, for the purpose of working on the mind of the woman, by
her relatives, aided by the priests, who would be naturally gratified by
such signal triumphs of religion over the strongest feelings of nature. He
admitted that these engines were sometimes put in operation, and that
they impelled to the sacrifice, some who were wavering; but insisted, that
in a majority of instances the _Suttee_ was voluntary.
"Women," said he, "are brought up from their infancy, to regard our sex
as their superiors, and to believe that their greatest merit consists in
entire devotion to their husbands. Under this feeling, and having, at
the same time, their attention frequently turned to the chance of such a
calamity, they are better prepared to meet it when it occurs. How few of
the officers in your western armies, ever hesitate to march, at the head
of their men, on a forlorn hope? and how many even court the danger for
the sake of the glory? Nay, you tell me that, according to your code of
honour, if one man insults another, he who gives the provocation, and he
who receives it, rather than be disgraced in the eyes of their countrymen,
will go out, and quietly shoot at each other with firearms, till one of
them is killed or wounded; and this too, in many cases, when the injury
has been merely nominal. If you show such a contempt of death, in
deference to a custom founded in mere caprice, can it be wondered that
a woman should show it, in the first paroxysms of her grief for the
loss of him to whom was devoted every thought, word, and action of her
life, and who, next to her God, was the object of her idolatry? My dear
Atterley," he continued, with emotion, "you little know the strength of
woman's love!"
Here he abruptly broke off the conversation; and, after continuing
thoughtful and silent for some time, he remarked:
"But do not forget where we are. Nature demands her accustomed rest, and
let us prepare to indulge her. I feel little inclined to sleep at
present; yet, by the time you have taken some hours' repose, I shall
probably require the same refreshment."
I would willingly have listened longer; but, yielding to his prudent
suggestion, again composed myself to rest, and left my good monitor to
his melancholy meditations. When I had slept about four hours, I was
awakened by the Brahmin, in whose arms I found myself, and who, feeble
as he was, handled me with the ease that a nurse does a child, or rather,
as a child does her doll. On looking around, I found myself lying on what
had been the ceiling of our chamber, which still, however, felt like the
bottom. My eyes and my feelings were thus in collision, and I could only
account for what I saw, by supposing that the machine had been turned
upside down. I was bewildered and alarmed.
After enjoying my surprise for a moment, the Brahmin observed: "We have,
while you were asleep, passed the middle point between the earth's and the
moon's attraction, and we now gravitate less towards our own planet than
her satellite. I took the precaution to move you, before you fell by your
own gravity, from what was lately the bottom, to that which is now so,
and to keep you in this place until you were retained in it by the moon's
attraction; for, though your fall would have been, at this point, like
that of a feather, yet it would have given you some shock and alarm. The
machine, therefore, has undergone no change in its position or course;
the change is altogether in our feelings."
The Brahmin then, after having looked through either telescope, but for
a longer time through the one at the bottom, and having performed his
customary devotions, soon fell into a slumber, but not into the same
quiet sleep as before, for he was often interrupted by sudden starts,
of so distressing a character, that I was almost tempted to wake him.
After a while, however, he seemed more composed, when I betook myself
to the telescope turned towards the earth.
The earth's appearance I found so diminished as not to exceed four times
the diameter of the moon, as seen from the earth, and its whole face was
entirely changed. After the first surprise, I recollected it was the
moon I was then regarding, and my curiosity was greatly awakened. On
raising myself up, and looking through the upper telescope, the earth
presented an appearance not very dissimilar; but the outline of her
continents and oceans were still perceptible, in different shades, and
capable of being easily recognised; but the bright glare of the sun made
the surfaces of both bodies rather dim and pale.
After a short interval, I again looked at the moon, and found not only
its magnitude very greatly increased, but that it was beginning to
present a more beautiful spectacle. The sun's rays fell obliquely on
her disc, so that by a large part of its surface not reflecting the light,
I saw every object on it, so far as I was enabled by the power of my
telescope. Its mountains, lakes, seas, continents, and islands, were
faintly, though not indistinctly, traced; and every moment brought
forth something new to catch my eye, and awaken my curiosity. The
whole face of the moon was of a silvery hue, relieved and varied by the
softest and most delicate shades. No cloud nor speck of vapour intercepted
my view. One of my exclamations of delight awakened the Brahmin, who
quickly arose, and looking down on the resplendent orb below us, observed
that we must soon begin to slacken the rapidity of our course, by
throwing out ballast. The moon's dimensions now rapidly increased; the
separate mountains, which formed the ridges and chains on her surface,
began to be plainly visible through the telescope; whilst, on the shaded
side, several volcanoes appeared upon her disc, like the flashes of
our fire-fly, or rather like the twinkling of stars in a frosty night.
He remarked, that the extraordinary clearness and brightness of the
objects on the moon's surface, was owing to her having a less extensive
and more transparent atmosphere than the earth: adding--"The difference
is so great, that some of our astronomical observers have been induced
to think she has none. If that, however, had been the case, our voyage
would have been impracticable."
After gazing at the magnificent spectacle, with admiration and delight,
for half an hour, the Brahmin loosed one of the balls of the lunar metal,
for the purpose of checking our velocity. At this time he supposed we
were not more than four thousand miles, or about twice the moon's
diameter, from the nearest point of her surface. In about four hours
more, her apparent magnitude was so great, that we could see her by
looking out of either of the dark side-windows. Her disc had now lost
its former silvery appearance, and began to look more like that of the
earth, when seen at the same distance. It was a most gratifying spectacle
to behold the objects successively rising to our view, and steadily
enlarging in their dimensions. The rapidity with which we approached the
moon, impressed me, in spite of myself, with the alarming sensation of
falling; and I found myself alternately agitated with a sense of this
danger, and with impatience to take a nearer view of the new objects that
greeted my eyes. The Brahmin was wholly absorbed in calculations for the
purpose of adjusting our velocity to the distance we had to go, his
estimates of which, however, were in a great measure conjectural; and
ever and anon he would let off a ball of the lunar metal.
After a few hours, we were so near the moon that every object was seen in
our glass, as distinctly as the shells or marine plants through a piece
of shallow sea-water, though the eye could take in but a small part of
her surface, and the horizon, which bounded our view, was rapidly
contracting. On letting the air escape from our machine, it did not now
rush out with the same violence as before, which showed that we were
within the moon's atmosphere. This, as well as ridding ourselves of the
metal balls, aided in checking our progress. By and bye we were within a
few miles of the highest mountains, when we threw down so much of our
ballast, that we soon appeared almost stationary. The Brahmin remarked,
that he should avail himself of the currents of air we might meet with,
to select a favourable place for landing, though we were necessarily
attracted towards the same region, in consequence of the same half of
the moon's surface being always turned towards the earth.
"In our second voyage," said he, "we were glad to get foothold any where;
for, not having lightened our machine sufficiently, we came down, with a
considerable concussion, on a barren field, remote from any human
habitation, and suffered more from hunger and cold, for nearly three days,
than we had done from the perils and privations of the voyage. The next
time we aimed at landing near the town of Alamatua, which stands, as you
may see, a little to the right of us, upon an island in a lake, and looks
like an emerald set in silver. We came down very gently, it is true, but
we struck one of the numerous boats which ply around the island, and had
nearly occasioned the loss of our lives, as well as of theirs. In our
last voyage we were every way fortunate. The first part of the moon we
approached, was a level plain, of great extent, divided into corn-fields,
on which, having lowered our grapnel, we drew ourselves down without
"We must now," continued he, "look out for some cultivated field, in one
of the valleys we are approaching, where we may rely on being not far
from some human abode, and on escaping the perils of rocks, trees, and
While the Brahmin was speaking, a gentle breeze arose, as appeared by our
horizontal motion, which wafted us at the rate of about ten miles an hour,
in succession, over a ridge of mountains, a lake, a thick wood, and a
second lake, until at length we reached a cultivated region, recognised
by the Brahmin as the country of the Morosofs, the place we were most
anxious to reach.
"Let off two of the balls of lead to the earth," said he. I did so, and
we descended rapidly. When we were sufficiently near the ground to see
that it was a fit place for landing, we opened the door, and found the
air of the moon inconceivably sweet and refreshing. We now loosed one of
the lower balls, and somewhat checked our descent. In a few minutes more,
however, we were within twenty yards of the ground, when we let go the
largest ball of lunarium, which, having a cord attached to it, served us
in lieu of a grapnel. It descended with great force to the ground, while
the machine, thus lightened, was disposed to mount again. We, however,
drew ourselves down; and as soon as the machine touched the ground,
we let off some of our leaden balls to keep it there. We released
ourselves from the machine in a twinkling; and our first impulse was
to fall on our knees, and return thanks for our safe deliverance from
the many perils of the voyage.
_Some account of Morosofia, and its chief city Alamatua--Singular
dresses of the Lunar ladies--Religious self denial--Glouglim miser and
spendthrift._
My feelings, at the moment I touched the ground, repayed me for all I
had endured. I looked around with the most intense curiosity; but nothing
that I saw, surprised me so much as to find so little that was surprising.
The vegetation, insects and other animals, were all pretty much of the
same character as those I had seen before; but after I became better
acquainted with them, I found the difference to be much greater than I at
first supposed. Having refreshed ourselves with the remains of our stores,
and secured the door of our machine, we bent our course, by a plain road,
towards the town we saw on the side of a mountain, about three miles
distant, and entered it a little before the sun had descended behind the
adjacent mountain.
The town of Alamatua seemed to contain about two thousand houses, and to
be not quite as large as Albany. The houses were built of a soft shining
stone, and they all had porticoes, piazzas, and verandas, suited to the
tropical climate of Morosofia. The people were tall and thin, of a pale
yellowish complexion; and their garments light, loose, and flowing, and
not very different from those of the Turks. The lower order of people
commonly wore but a single garment, which passed round the waist. One
half the houses were under ground, partly to screen them from the continued
action of the sun's rays, and partly on account of the earthquakes caused
by volcanoes. The windows of their houses were different from any I had
ever seen before. They consisted of openings in the wall, sloping so
much upwards, that while they freely admitted the light and air, the sun
was completely excluded: and although those who were within could readily
see what was passing in the streets, they were concealed from the gaze of
the curious. In their hot-houses, it was common to have mirrors in the
ceilings, which at once reflected the street passengers to those who were
on the floor, and enabled the ostentatious to display to the public eye
the decorations of their tables, whenever they gave a sumptuous feast.
The inhabitants subsist chiefly on a vegetable diet; live about as long
as they do on the earth, notwithstanding the great difference of climate,
and other circumstances; and, in short, do not, in their manners, habits,
or character, differ more from the inhabitants of our planet, than some of
these differ from one another. Their government was anciently monarchical,
but is now popular. Their code of laws is said to be very intricate. Their
language, naturally soft and musical, has been yet further refined by the
cultivation of letters. They have a variety of sects in religion,
politics, and philosophy. The territory of Morosofia is about 150 miles
square. This brief sketch must content the reader for the present. I refer
those who are desirous of being more particularly informed, to the work
which I propose to publish on lunar geography; and, in the mean time,
some of the most striking peculiarities of this people, in opinions,
manners, and customs, will be developed in this, which must be considered
as my _personal narrative_.
As soon as we were espied by the inhabitants, we were surrounded by a
troop of little boys, as well as all the idle and inquisitive near us.
The Brahmin had not gone far, before he was met by some persons of his
acquaintance, who immediately recognised him, and seemed very much pleased
to see him again in the moon. They politely conducted us to the house of
the governor, who received us very graciously. He appeared to be about
forty-five years of age, was dressed in a pearl-coloured suit, and had a
mild, amiable deportment. He began a course of interesting inquiry about
the affairs of the earth; but a gentleman, whom we afterwards understood
was one of the leaders of the popular party, coming in, he soon despatched
us; having, however, first directed an officer to furnish us with all
that was necessary for our accommodation, at the public expense--which
act of hospitality, we have reason to fear, occasioned him some trouble
and perplexity at the succeeding election. We very gladly withdrew, as
both by reason of our long walk, and the excitement produced by so many
new objects, we were greatly fatigued. The officer conducted us to
respectable private lodgings, in a lightsome situation, which overlooked
the chief part of the city.
After a frugal, but not unpalatable repast, and a few hours' sleep,
the Brahmin took me round the city and a part of its environs, to make me
acquainted with the public buildings, streets, shops, and the appearance
of the inhabitants. I soon found that our arrival was generally known
and that we excited quite as much curiosity as we felt, though many of
the persons we met had seen the Brahmin before. I was surprised that we
saw none of their women; but the Brahmin told me that they were every
where gazing through their windows; and, on looking up, through these
slanting apertures I could often see their eyes peeping over the upper
edge of the window-sill.
I shall now proceed to record faithfully what I deem most memorable; not
as many travellers have done, from their recollection, after their return
home, but from notes, which I regularly made, either at the moment of
observation, or very shortly afterwards. When we first visited the shops,
I was equally gratified and surprised with what was familiar and what was
new; but I was particularly amused with those of the tailors and milliners.
In the lower part of their dress, the Lunarians chiefly resemble the
Europeans; but in the upper part, the Asiatics--for they shave the head,
and wear turbans; from which fact the Brahmin drew another argument in
favour of the hypothesis, that the moon was originally a part of the
earth. Some of the female fashions were so extremely singular and
fanciful, as to deserve particular mention.
One piece of their attire was formed of a long piece of light stiff
wood, covered with silk, and decorated with showy ornaments. It was
worn across the shoulders, beyond each of which it jutted out about half
a yard; and from either end a cord led to a ring running round the upper
part of the head, bearing no small resemblance to the yard of a ship's
mast, and the ropes used for steering it. Several other dresses I
saw, which I am satisfied would be highly disapproved by my modest
countrywomen. Thus, in some were inserted glasses like watch crystals,
adapted to the form and size of the female bosom. But, to do the Lunar
ladies justice, I understood that these dresses were condemned by the
sedate part of the sex, and were worn only by the young and thoughtless,
who were vain of their forms. I observed too, that instead of decorating
their heads with flowers, like the ladies of our earth, they taxed the
animal world for a correspondent ornament. Many of the head-dresses were
made of a stiff open gauze, occasionally stuck over with insects of the
butterfly and _coccinella_ species, and others of the gayest hues. At
other times these insects were alive; when their perpetual buzzing and
fluttering in their transparent cages, had a very animating effect. One
decoration for the head in particular struck my fancy: it was formed of a
silver tissue, containing fireflies, and intended to be worn in the night.
But the most remarkable thing of all, was the whim of the ladies in
the upper classes, of making themselves as much like birds as possible;
in which art, it must be confessed, they were wonderfully successful.
The dress used for this purpose, consisted of a sort of thick cloak,
covered with feathers, like those of the South Sea islands, and was so
fashioned, by means of a tight thick quilting, as to make the wearer, at
a little distance, very much resemble an overgrown bird, except that the
legs were somewhat too thick. Their arms were concealed under the wings;
and the resemblance was yet further increased, by marks with beaks adapted
to the particular plumage: some personating doves, some magpies; others
again, hawks, parrots, &c., according to their natural figure, humour,
&c.; while the deception was still further assisted by their extraordinary
agility, compared with ours, by means of which they could, with ease,
hop eighteen or twenty feet. I told the Brahmin that some of the Indians
of our continent showed a similar taste in dress, by decorating themselves
with horns like the buffalo, and with tails like horses; which furnished
him with a further argument in favour of a common origin.
We spent above an hour in examining these curious habiliments, and in
inquiring the purposes and uses of the several parts. Sometimes I was
induced, through the Brahmin, to criticise their taste and skill, having
been always an admirer of simplicity in female attire. But I remarked
on this occasion, as on several others, subsequently, that the people of
the moon were neither very thankful for advice, nor thought very highly
of the judgment of those who differ from them in opinion.
After having rambled over the city about six hours, our appetites told
us it was time to return to our lodgings; and here I met with a new
cause of wonder. The family with whom we were domesticated, belonged
to a numerous and zealous sect of religionists, and were, in their way,
very worthy, as well as pious people. Their dinner consisted of several
dishes of vegetables, variously served up; of roots, stalks, seeds,
flowers, and fruits, some of which resembled the productions of the
earth; and in particular, I saw a dish of what I at first took to be
very fine asparagus, but supposed I was mistaken, when I saw them eat
the coarse fibrous part alone. On tasting it, however, in the ordinary
way, I found it to be genuine, good asparagus; but I perceived that the
family looked extremely shocked at my taste. After the other dishes were
removed, some large fruit, of the peach kind, were set on the table,
when the members of the family, having carefully paired off the skin,
ate it, and threw the rest away. They in like manner chewed the shells
of some small grayish nuts, and threw away the kernels, which to me were
very palatable. The younger children, consisting of two boys and a girl,
exchanged looks with each other at the selections I made, and I thought
I perceived in the looks of the mother, still more aversion than surprise.
I found too, that my friend the Brahmin abstained from all these things,
and partook only of those vegetables and fruits of which both they and I
ate alike. Some wine was offered us, which appeared to me to be neither
more nor less than vinegar; and, what added to my surprise, a bottle,
which they said was not yet fit to drink, seemed to me to be pretty good,
the Brahmin having passed it to me for my judgment, as soon as they
pronounced upon it sentence of condemnation.
After we arose from this strange scene, and had withdrawn to our chamber,
I expressed my surprise to my companion at this contrariety in the tastes
of the Terrestrials and Lunarians: whereupon he told me, that the
difference was rather apparent than real.
"These people," said he, "belong to a sect of Ascetics in this country,
who are persuaded that all pleasure received through the senses is sinful,
and that man never appears so acceptable in the sight of the Deity, as
when he rejects all the delicacies of the palate, as well as other
sensual gratifications, and imposes on himself that food to which he
feels naturally most repugnant. You may see that those peaches, which
were so disdainfully thrown into the yard, are often secretly picked up
by the children, who obey the impulses of nature, and devour them most
greedily. Even in the old people themselves, there is occasionally some
backsliding into the depravity of worldly appetite. You might have
perceived, that while the old man was abusing the wine you drank as
unripe, and making wry faces at it, he still kept tasting it; and if I
had not reached it to you, he would probably, before he had ceased his
meditations, have finished half the bottle. It must be confessed, that
although religion cherishes our best feelings, it also often proves a
cloak for the worst."
I told him that our clergy were superior to this weakness, most of them
manifesting a proper sense of the bounty of Providence, by eating and
drinking of the best, (not very sparingly neither); and that in New-York,
we considered some of our preachers the best judges of wine among us. Soon
afterwards, we again sallied forth in quest of adventures, and bent our
course towards the suburbs.
We had not gone far, before we saw several persons looking at a man
working hard at a forge, in a low crazy building. On approaching him, we
found he was engaged in making nails, an operation which he performed
with great skill and adroitness; and as soon as he had made as many
as he could take up in his hand at once, he carried them behind his
little hovel, and dropped them into a narrow deep well. Some of the
by-standers wished to beg a few of what he seemed to value so lightly,
and others offered to give him bread or clothes in exchange for his
nails, but he obstinately resisted all their applications; in fact,
little heeding them, although he was almost naked, had a starved, haggard
appearance, and evidently regarded the food they proffered with a
wishful eye.
The lookers on told us the blacksmith had been for years engaged in this
business of nail-making; he worked with little intermission, scarcely
allowing himself time for necessary sleep or refreshment; that all the
fruits of his incessant labour were disposed of in the manner we had
just seen; and that he had already three wells filled with nails, which
he had carefully closed. He had, moreover, a large and productive farm,
the increase arising from which, was laid out in exchange for the metal
of which his nails were made. He had, we were informed, so much attachment
to these pieces of metal, that he was often on the point of starvation
before he would part with one.
I observed to the Brahmin, that it was a singular, and somewhat
inexplicable, species of madness.
"True," he replied; "this man's conduct cannot be explained upon any
rational principles--but he is one of the Glonglims, of which I have
spoken to you; and examples are not wanting on our planet, of conduct
as irreconcilable to reason. This man is making an article which is
scarce, as well as useful, in this country, where gravity is less than
it is with us: the force of the wind is very great, and the metal is
possessed but by a few. Now, if you suppose these nails to be pieces
of gold and silver, his conduct will be precisely that of some of our
misers, who waste their days and nights in hoarding up wealth which they
never use, nor mean to use; but, denying themselves every comfort of
life, anxiously and unceasingly toil for those who are to come after
them, though they are so far from feeling, towards these successors,
any peculiar affection, that they often regard them with jealousy and
While we thus conversed, there stepped up to us a handsome man, foppishly
dressed in blue trowsers, a pink vest, and a red and white turban; who,
after having shaken my companion by the ears, according to the custom of
the country among intimate friends, expressed his delight at seeing him
again in Morosofia. He then went on, in a lively, humorous strain, to
ridicule the nail-smith, and told us several stories of his singular
attachment to his nails. In the midst of these sallies, however, a harsh
looking personage in brown came up, upon which the countenance of our
lively acquaintance suddenly changed, and they walked off together.
"I apprehend," said the Brahmin, "that my gay acquaintance yonder
continues as he formerly was. The man in brown, who so unseasonably
interrupted his pleasantry, is an officer of justice, and has probably
taken him before a magistrate, to answer some one of his numerous
creditors. You must know," added he, "that the people of the moon,
however irrational themselves, are very prompt in perceiving the
absurdities of others: and this lively wit, who, as you see, wants neither
parts nor address, acts as strangely as the wretch he has been ridiculing.
He inherited a large estate, which brought him in a princely revenue;
and yet his desires and expenses so far outgo his means, that he is
always in want. Both he and the nailmaker suffer the evils of poverty--
of poverty created by themselves--which, moreover, they can terminate
when they please; but they must reach the same point by directly opposite
roads. The blacksmith will allow himself nothing--the beau will deny
himself nothing: the one is a slave to pleasure--the other, the victim
of fear. I told you that there were but few whose estates produced the
metal of which these nails are made; and this thoughtless youth happens
to be one. A few years since, he wanted some of the blacksmith's nails
to purchase the first rose of the season, and pledged his mines to pay,
at the end of the year, three times the amount he received in exchange;
and although, if he were to use but half his income for a single year,
the other half would discharge his debts. I apprehend, from what I have
heard, that he has, from that time to this, continued to pay the same
exorbitant interest. When I was here before, I prevailed on him to take
a ride with me into the country, and, under one pretext or another,
detained him ten days at a friend's house, where he had no inducement
to expense. When he returned, he found his debts paid off; but knowing
he was master of so ready and effectual an expedient, he, the next day,
borrowed double the sum at the old rate. Since that time his debts have
accumulated so rapidly, that he will probably now be compelled to
surrender his whole estate."
"Is he also a Glonglim?" I asked.
"Assuredly: what man, in his entire senses, could act so irrationally?"
"There is nothing on earth that exceeds this," said I.
"No," said the Brahmin; "human folly is every where the same."
CHAPTER VII.
_Physical peculiarities of the Moon-Celestial phenomena--Further
description of the Lunarians--National prejudice--Lightness of bodies--The
Brahmin carries Atterley to sup with a philosopher--His character and
After we had been in the moon about forty eight hours, the sun had sunk
below the horizon, and the long twilight of the Lunarians had begun. I will
here take occasion to notice the physical peculiarities of this country,
which, though very familiar to those who are versed in astronomy, may not
be unacceptable to the less scientific portion of my readers.
The sun is above the horizon nearly a fortnight, and below it as long; of
course the day here is equal to about twenty-seven of ours. The earth
answers the same purpose to half the inhabitants of the moon, that the moon
does to the inhabitants of the earth. The face of the latter, however, is
more than twelve times as large, and it has not the same silvery appearance
as the moon, but is rather of a dingy pink hue, like that of her iron when
beginning to lose its red heat. As the same part of the moon is always
turned to the earth, one half of her surface is perpetually illuminated by
a moon ten times as large to the eye as the sun; the other hemisphere is
without a moon. The favoured part, therefore, never experiences total
darkness, the earth reflecting to the Lunarians as much light as we
terrestrials have a little before sunrise, or after sunset. But our planet
presents to the Lunarians the same changes as the moon does to us,
according to its position in relation to the sun. It always, however,
appears to occupy nearly the same part of the heavens, when seen from the
same point on the moon's surface; but its altitude above the horizon is
greater or less, according to the latitude of the place from which it is
seen: so that there is not a point of the heavens which the earth may not
be seen permanently to occupy, according to the part of the moon from which
the planet is viewed.
From the length of time that the sun is above the horizon, the continued
action of his rays, in those climates where they fall vertically, or nearly
so, would be intolerable, if it was not for the high mountains, from whose
snow-clad summits a perpetual breeze derives a refreshing coolness, and for
the deep glens and recesses, in which most animals seek protection from his
meridian beams. The transitions from heat to cold are less than one would
expect, from the length of their days and nights--the coolness of the one,
as well as the heat of the other, being tempered by a constant east wind.
The climate gradually becomes colder as we approach the Poles; but there is
little or no change of seasons in the same latitude.
The inhabitants of the moon have not the same regularity in their meals, or
time for sleep, as we have, but consult their appetites and inclinations
like other animals. But they make amends for this irregularity, by a very
strict and punctilious observance of festivals, which are regulated by the
motions of the sun, at whose rising and setting they have their appropriate
ceremonies. Those which are kept at sunrise, are gay and cheerful, like the
hopes which the approach of that benignant luminary inspires. The others
are of a grave and sober character, as if to prepare the mind for serious
contemplation in their long-enduring night. When the earth is at the full,
which is their midnight, it is also a season of great festivity with them.
_Eclipses of the sun_ are as common with the Lunarians as those of the
moon are with us--the same relative position of the three bodies producing
this phenomenon; but an _eclipse of the earth_ never takes place, as
the shadow of the moon passes over the broad disc of our planet, merely as
a dark spot.
The inhabitants of the moon can always determine both their latitude and
longitude, by observing the quarter of the heavens in which the earth is
seen: and, as the sun invariably appears of the same altitude at their
noon, the inhabitants are denominated and classed according to the length
of their shadows; and the terms _long shadow_, or _short shadow_, are
common forms of national reproach among them, according to the relative
position of the parties. I found the climate of those whose shadows are
about the length of their own figure, the most agreeably to my own
feelings, and most like that of my own country.
Such are the most striking natural appearances on one side of this
satellite. On the other there is some difference. The sun pursues the same
path in the corresponding latitudes of both hemispheres; but being without
any moon, they have a dull and dreary night, though the light from the
stars is much greater than with us. The science of astronomy is much
cultivated by the inhabitants of the dark hemisphere, and is indebted to
them for its most important discoveries, and its present high state of
improvement.
If there is much rivalship among the natives of the same hemisphere, who
differ in the length of their shadows, they all unite in hatred and
contempt for the inhabitants of the opposite side. Those who have the
benefit of a moon, that is, who are turned towards the earth, are lively,
indolent, and changeable as the face of the luminary on which they pride
themselves; while those on the other side are more grave, sedate, and
industrious. The first are called the Hilliboos, and the last the
Moriboos--or bright nights, and dark nights. And this mutual animosity is
the more remarkable, as they often appeared to me to be the same race, and
to differ much less from one another than the natives of different
climates. It is true, that enlightened and well educated men do not seem to
feel this prejudice, or at least they do not show it: but those who travel
from one hemisphere to the other, are sure to encounter the prejudices of
the vulgar, and are often treated with great contempt and indignity. They
are pointed at by the children, who, according as they chance to have been
bred on one side or the other say, "There goes a man who never saw
Glootin," as they call the earth; or, "There goes a Booblimak," which means
a night stroller.
All bodies are much lighter on the moon than on the earth; by reason of
which circumstance, as has been mentioned, the inhabitants are more active,
and experience much less fatigue in ascending their precipitous mountains.
I was astonished at first at this seeming increase in my muscular powers;
when, on passing along a street in Alamatua, soon after my arrival, and
meeting a dog, which I thought to be mad, I proposed to run out of his way,
and in leaping over a gutter, I fairly bounded across the street. I
measured the distance the next day, and found it to be twenty-seven feet
five inches; and afterwards frequently saw the school-boys, when engaged in
athletic exercises, make running leaps of between thirty and forty feet,
backwards and forwards. Another consequence of the diminished gravity here
is, that both men and animals carry much greater burdens than on the earth.
The carriages are drawn altogether by dogs, which are the largest animals
they have, except the zebra, and a small buffalo. This diminution of
gravity is, however, of some disadvantage to them. Many of their tools are
not as efficient as ours, especially their axes, hoes, and hammers. On the
other hand, when a person falls to the ground, it is nearly the same thing
as if an inhabitant of the earth were to fall on a feather bed. Yet I saw
as many instances of fractured limbs, hernia, and other accidents there, as
I ever saw on the earth; for when they fall from great heights, or miscarry
in the feats of activity which they ambitiously attempt, it inflicts the
same injury upon them, as a fall nearer the ground does upon us.
After we had been here sufficiently long to see what was most remarkable in
the city, and I had committed the fruit of my observations to paper, the
Brahmin proposed to carry me to one of the monthly suppers of a philosopher
whom he knew, and who had obtained great celebrity by his writings and
We accordingly went, and found him sitting at a small table, and apparently
exhausted with the labour of composition, and the ardour of intense
thought. He was a small man, of quick, abrupt manners, occasionally very
abstracted, but more frequently voluble, earnest, and disputatious. He
frankly told us he was sorry to see us, as he was then putting the last
finish to a great and useful work he was about to publish: that we had thus
unseasonably broken the current of his thoughts, and he might not be able
to revive it for some days. Upon my rising to take my leave, he assured me
that it would be adding to the injury already done, if we then quitted him.
He said he wished to learn the particulars of our voyage; and that he, in
turn, should certainly render us service, by disclosing some of the results
of his own reflections. He further remarked, that he expected six or eight
friends--that is, (correcting himself,) "enlightened and congenial minds,"
to supper, on the rising of a constellation he named, which time, he
remarked, would soon arrive. Finding his frankness to be thus seasoned with
hospitality, we resumed our seats. It soon appeared that he was more
disposed to communicate information than to seek it; and I became a patient
listener. If the boldness and strangeness of his opinions occasionally
startled me, I could not but admire the clearness with which he stated his
propositions, the fervour of his elocution, and the plausibility of his
The expected guests at length arrived; and various questions of morals and
legislation were started, in which the disputants seemed sometimes as if
they would have laid aside the character of philosophers, but for the
seasonable interposition of the Brahmin. Wigurd, our host, often laboured
with his accustomed zeal, to prove that every one who opposed him, was
either a fool, or biassed by some petty interest, or the dupe of blind
After about two hours of warm, and, as it seemed to me, unprofitable
discussion, we were summoned to our repast in the adjoining room. But
before we rose from our seats, our host requested to know of each of us if
we were hungry; and, whether it were from modesty, perverseness, or really
because they had no appetite, I know not, but a majority of the company, in
which I was included, voted that their hour of eating was not yet come:
upon which Wigurd remarked that his own vote, as being at home, and the
Brahmin's, as being at once a philosopher and a stranger, should each count
for two; and by this mode of reckoning there was a casting vote in favour
of going to supper.
We found the table covered with tempting dishes, served up in a costly and
tasteful style, and a sprightly, well-looking female prepared to do the
honours of the feast. She reproved our host for his delay, and told him the
best dish was spoiled, by being cold. I was fearful of a discussion; but he
sat down without making a reply, and immediately addressing the company,
descanted on the various qualities of food, and their several adaptations
to different ages, constitutions, and temperaments. He condemned the absurd
practice which prevailed, for the master or mistress of the house to lavish
entreaties on their guests to eat that which they might be better without;
and insisted, at the same time, that the guests ought not to consult their
own tastes exclusively. He maintained, that the only course worthy of
rational and benevolent beings, was for every man to judge for his
neighbour as well as for himself; and, should any collision arise between
the different claimants, then, if any one were guided by that decision,
which an honest and unbiassed judgment would tell him was right, they would
all come to the same just and harmonious result.
"But," added he, "you have not yet been sufficiently prepared for this
disinterested operation. As ye have proved this night that ye are not yet
purged of the feelings and prejudices of a vicious education, I will
perform this office for you all, and set you an example, by which ye may
hereafter profit. To begin, then, with you--(addressing himself to a
corpulent man, of a florid complexion, at the lower end of the table:)--As
you already have a redundancy of flesh and blood, I assign the _soupe
maîgre_ to you; while to our mathematical friend on this side, whose
delicate constitution requires nourishment, I recommend the smoking ragoût.
This cooling dish will suit your temperament," said he to a third; "and
this stimulating one, yours," to a fourth. "Those little birds, which cost
me five pieces, I shall divide between my terrestrial friend here (looking
at the Brahmin) and myself, we being the most meritorious of the company,
and it being of the utmost importance to society, that food so wholesome
should give nourishment to our bodies, and impart vigour and vivacity to
From this decision there was no appeal, and no other dissent than what was
expressed by a look or a low murmur. But I perceived the corpulent
gentleman and the wan mathematician slily exchange their dishes, by which
they both seemed to consider themselves gainers. The dish allotted to me,
being of a middling character, I ate of it without repining; though, from
the savoury fumes of my right-hand neighbour's plate, I could not help
wishing I had been allowed to choose for myself.
This supper happening near the middle of the night, (at which time it was
always pretty cool,) a cheerful fire blazed in one side of the room and I
perceived that our host and hostess placed themselves so as to be at the
most agreeable distance, the greater part of the guests being either too
near or too far from it.
After we had finished our repast, various subjects of speculation were
again introduced and discussed, greatly to my amusement. Wigurd displayed
his usual ingenuity and ardour, and baffled all his antagonists by his
vehemence and fluency. He had two great principles by which he tested the
good or evil of every thing; and there were few questions in which he could
not avail himself of one or the other. These were, general _utility_
and _truth_.
By a skilful use of these weapons of controversy, he could attack or defend
with equal success. If any custom or institution which he had denounced,
was justified by his adversaries, on the ground of its expediency, he
immediately retorted on them its repugnancy to sincerity, truth, and
unsophisticated nature; and if they, at any time, resorted to a similar
justification for our natural feelings and propensities, he triumphantly
showed that they were inimical to the public good. Thus, he condemned
gratitude as a sentiment calculated to weaken the sense of justice, and to
substitute feeling for reason. He, on the other hand, proscribed the little
forms and courtesies, which are either founded in convenience, or give a
grace and sweetness to social intercourse, as a direct violation of honest
nature, and therefore odious and mean. He thus was able to silence every
opponent. I was very desirous of hearing the Brahmin's opinion; but, while
he evidently was not convinced by our host's language, he declined engaging
in any controversy.
After we retired, my friend told me that Wigurd was a good man in the main,
though he had been as much hated by some as if his conduct had been
immoral, instead of his opinions merely being singular. "He not long ago,"
added the Brahmin "wrote a book against marriage, and soon afterwards
wedded, in due form, the lady you saw at his table. She holds as strange
tenets as he, which she supports with as much zeal, and almost as much
ability. But I predict that the popularity of their doctrines will not
last; and if ever you visit the moon again, you will find that their glory,
now at its height, like the ephemeral fashions of the earth, will have
passed away."
CHAPTER VIII.
_A celebrated physician: his ingenious theories in physics: his mechanical
inventions--The feather-hunting Glonglim._
On returning to our lodgings, we, acting under the influence of long habit,
went to bed, though half the family were up, and engaged in their ordinary
employments. One consequence of the length of the days and nights here is,
that every household is commonly divided into two parts, which watch and
sleep by turns: nor have they any uniformity in their meals, except in
particular families, which are regulated by clocks and time-pieces. The
vulgar have no means of measuring smaller portions of time than a day or
night, (each equal to a fortnight with us,) except by observing the
apparent motion of the sun or the stars, in which, considering that it is
nearly thirty times as slow as with us, they attain surprising accuracy.
They have the same short intervals of labour and rest in their long night
as their day--the light reflected from the earth, being commonly sufficient
to enable them to perform almost any operation; and, ere our planet is in
her second quarter, one may read the smallest print by her light.
To compensate their want of this natural advantage, the inhabitants of
Moriboozia are abundantly supplied with a petroleum, or bituminous liquid,
which is found every where about their lakes, or on their mountains, and
which they burn in lamps, of various sizes, shapes, and constructions. They
have also numerous volcanoes, each of which sheds a strong light for many
miles around.
We slept unusually long; and, owing in part to Wigurd's good cheer, I awoke
with a head-ache. I got up to take a long walk, which often relieves me
when suffering from that malady; and, on ascending the stairs, I met our
landlord's eldest daughter, a tall, graceful girl of twenty. I found she
was coming down backwards, which I took to be a mere girlish freak, or
perhaps a piece of coquetry, practised on myself: but I afterwards found,
that about the time the earth is at the full, the whole family pursued the
same course, and were very scrupulous in making their steps in this awkward
and inconvenient way, because it was one of the prescribed forms of their
As my head-ache became rather worse, than better, from my walk, the Brahmin
proposed to accompany me to the house of a celebrated physician, called
Vindar, who was also a botanist, chemist, and dentist, to consult him on my
case; and thither we forthwith proceeded. I found him a large, unwieldy
figure, of a dull, heavy look, but by no means deficient in science or
natural shrewdness. He confirmed my previous impression that I ought to
lose blood, and plausibly enough accounted for my present sensation of
fulness, from the inferior pressure of the lunar atmosphere to that which I
had been accustomed. He proposed, however, to return to my veins a portion
of thinner blood in place of what he should take away, and offered me the
choice of several animals, which he always kept by him for that purpose.
There were two white animals of the hog kind, a male and a female lama,
three goats, besides several birds, about the size of a turkey, some
tortoises, and other amphibious animals. He professed himself willing, in
case I had any foolish scruples against mixing my blood with that of
brutes, to purify my own, and put it back; but I obstinately declined both
expedients; whereupon he opened a vein in my arm, and took from it about
fourteen ounces of blood. Finding myself, weakened as well as relieved, by
the operation, he invited me to rest myself; and while I was recovering my
strength, he discoursed with the Brahmin and myself on several of his
favourite topics. On returning home, I committed to paper some of the most
remarkable of his opinions, which it may be as well to notice, that those
who have since propounded, or may hereafter propound, the same to the
world, may not claim the merit of originality.
He maintained that the number of our senses was greater than that commonly
assigned to us. That we had, for example, a sense of acids, of alkalies, of
weight, and of heat. That acid substances acted upon our bodies by a
peculiar set of nerves, or through some medium of their own, was evident
from this, that they set the teeth on edge, though these, from their hard
and bony nature, are insensible to the touch. That astringents shrivelled
up the flesh and puckered the mouth, even when their taste was not
perceived. That when the skin shrunk on the application of vinegar, could
it be said that it had not a peculiar sense of this liquid, or rather of
its acidity, since the existence of the senses was known only by effects
which external matter produced on them? That the senses, like that of
touch, were seated in most parts of the body, but were most acute in the
mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. He showed some disposition to maintain the
popular notions of the Greeks and Romans, that the rivers and streams are
endowed with reason and volition; and endeavoured to prove that some of
their windings and deviations from a straight line, cannot be explained
upon mechanical principles.
Vindar is, moreover, a projector of a very bold character; and not long ago
petitioned the commanding general of an army, suddenly raised to repel an
incursion of one of their neighbours, to march his troops into
Goolo-Tongtoia, for the purpose of digging a canal from one of their
petroleum lakes into Morosofia, and conducting it, by smaller streams, over
that country, for the purpose of warming it during their long cool nights.
He has, too, a large grist and saw mill, which are put in motion by the
explosion of gunpowder. This is conveyed, by a sufficiently ingenious
machine, in very small portions, to the bottom of an upright cylinder,
which is immediately shut perfectly close. A flint and steel are at the
same time made to strike directly over it, and to ignite the powder. The
air that is thus generated, forces up a piston through a cylinder, which
piston, striking the arm of a wheel, puts it in motion, and with it the
machinery of the mills. A complete revolution of the wheel again prepares
the cylinder for a fresh supply of gunpowder, which is set on fire, and
produces the same effect as before.
He told me he had been fifteen years perfecting this great work, in which
time it had been twice blown up by accidents, arising from the carelessness
or mismanagement of the workmen; but that he now expected it would repay
him for the time and money he had expended. He had once, he said, intended
to use the expansive force of congelation for his moving power; but he
found, after making a full and accurate calculation, that the labourers
required to keep the machine supplied with ice, consumed something more
than twice as much corn as the mill would grind in the same time. He then
was about to move it to a fine stream of water in the neighbourhood, which,
by being dammed up, so as to form a large pond, would afford him a
convenient and inexhaustible supply of ice. But the millwright, after the
dam was completed, having artfully obtained his permission to use the waste
water, and fraudulently erected there a common water-mill, which soon
obtained all the neighbouring custom, he had sold out that property, and
resorted to the agency of gunpowder, which is quite as philosophical a
process as that of congelation, and much less expensive. In answer to an
inquiry of the Brahmin's, he admitted, that though he had been able, by the
force of congelation, to burst metallic tubes several inches thick, he had
never succeeded in making it put the lightest machinery into a continued
Having now nearly recovered, and being, I confess, somewhat bewildered by
the variety and complexity of these ingenious projects, I felt disposed to
take my leave; but Vindar insisted on conducting us into an inner
apartment, to see his _poetry box_. This was a large piece of furniture,
profusely decorated with metals of various colours, curiously and
fantastically inlaid. It contained a prodigious number of drawers,
which were labelled after the manner of those in an apothecary's shop,
(from whence he denied, however, that he first took the hint,) and the
labels were arranged in alphabetical order.
"Now," says he, "as the excellence of poetry consists in bringing before
the mind's eye what can be brought before the corporeal eye, I have here
collected every object that is either beautiful or pleasing in nature,
whether by its form, colour, fragrance, sweetness, or other quality, as
well as those that are strikingly disagreeable. When I wish to exhibit
those pictures which constitute poetry, I consult the appropriate cabinet,
and I take my choice of those various substances which can best call up the
image I wish to present to my reader. For example: suppose I wish to speak
of any object that is white, or analogous to white, I open the drawer that
is thus labelled, and I see silver, lime, chalk, and white enamel, ivory,
paper, snow-drops, and alabaster, and select whichever of these substances
will best suit the measure and the rhyme, and has the most soft-sounding
name. If the colour be yellow, then there are substances of all shades of
this hue, from saffron and pickled salmon to brimstone and straw. I have
sixty-two red substances, twenty-seven green ones, and others in the same
proportion. It is astonishing what labour this box has saved me, and how
much it has added to the beauty and melody of my verse.
"You perceive," he added, "the drawer missing. That contained substances
offensive to the sight or smell, which my maid, conducted to it by her
nose, conceived to be some animal curiosities I had been collecting, in a
state of putrefaction and decay, and did not hesitate to throw them into
the fire. I afterwards found myself very much at a loss, whenever my
subject led me to the mention of objects of this character, and I therefore
spoke of them as seldom as possible." After bestowing that tribute of
admiration and praise which every great author or inventor expects, in his
own house, and not omitting his customary medical fee, we took our leave.
We had not long left Vindar's house, before we saw a short fat man in the
suburbs, preparing to climb to the top of a plane tree, on which there was
one of the tail feathers of a sort of flamingo. He was surrounded by
attendants and servants, to whom he issued his commands with great rapidity
and decision, occasionally intermingling with his orders the most
threatening language and furious gesticulations. Some offered to get a
ladder, and ascend, and others to cut down the tree; all of which he
obstinately rejected. He swore he would get the feather--he would get it by
climbing--and he would climb but one way, which way was on the shoulders of
his men. His plan was to make a number of them form a solid square, and
interlock their arms; then a smaller number to mount upon their shoulders,
on whom others were in like manner placed, and so on till the pyramid was
sufficiently high, when he himself was to mount, and from the shoulders of
the highest pluck the darling object of his wishes. He had in this way, I
afterwards learnt, gathered some of the richest flowers of the bignonia
scarlatina, as well as such fruits as had tempted him by their luscious
appearance, and at the same time frightening all the birds from their
nests, which he commonly destroyed: and although some of his attendants
were occasionally much hurt and bruised in this singular amusement, he
still persevered in it. He had continued it for several years, with no
intermission, except a short one, when he was engaged in breaking a young
llana in the place of an old one, which had been many years a favourite,
but was now in disgrace, because, as he said, he did not think it so safe
for going down hill, but in reality, because he liked the figure and
movements of the young one better.
I could not see this rash Glonglim attempt to climb that dangerous ladder,
without feeling alarm for his safety. At first all seemed to go on very
well; but just as he was about to lay hold of the gaudy prize, there arose
a sudden squall, which threw both him and his supporters into confusion,
and the whole living pyramid came to the ground together. Many were
killed--some were wounded and bruised. Polenap himself, by lighting on his
men, who served him as cushions, barely escaped with life. But he received
a fracture in the upper part of his head, and a dislocation of the hip,
which will not only prevent him from ever climbing again, but probably make
him a cripple for life.
The Brahmin and I endeavoured to give the sufferers some assistance; but
this was rendered unnecessary, by the crowd which their cries and
lamentations brought to their relief. I thought that the author of so much
mischief would have been stoned on the spot; but, to my surprise, his
servants seemed to feel as much for his honour as their own safety, and
warmly interfered in his behalf, until they had somewhat appeased the rage
of the surrounding multitude.
_The fortune-telling philosopher, who inspected the finger nails: his
visiters--Another philosopher, who judged of the character by the
hair--The fortune-teller duped--Predatory warfare._
As we returned to our lodgings, we saw a number of persons, some of whom
were entering and some leaving a neat small dwelling; and on joining the
throng, we learnt that a famous fortune-teller lived there, who, at
stated periods, opened his house to all that were willing to pay for
being instructed in the events of futurity, or for having the secrets of
the present or past revealed to them. On entering the house, and
descending a flight of steps, we found, at the farther end of a dark
room, lighted with a chandelier suspended from the ceiling, an elderly
man, with a long gray beard, and a thin, pale countenance, deeply
furrowed with thought rather than care. He received us politely, and
then resumed the duties of his vocation. His course of proceeding was to
examine the finger nails, and, according to their form, colour,
thickness, surface, and grain, to determine the character and destinies
of those who consulted him. I was at once pleased and surprised at the
minuteness of his observation, and the infinite variety of his
distinctions. Besides the qualities of the nails that I have mentioned,
he noticed some which altogether eluded my senses, such as their
milkiness, flintiness, friability, elasticity, tenacity, and
sensibility; whether they were aqueous, unctious, or mealy; with many
more, which have escaped my recollection.
A modest, pensive looking girl, apparently about seventeen, was timidly
holding forth her hand for examination, at the time we entered.
Avarabet, (for that was the name of this philosopher,) uttered two or
three words, with a significant shake of his head, upon which I saw the
rising tear in her eyes. She withdrew her hand, and had not courage to
let him take another look.
A fat woman, of a sanguine temperament, holding a little girl by the
hand, then stepped up and showed her fingers. He pronounced her amorous,
inconstant, prone to anger, and extravagant; that she had made one man
miserable, and would probably make another. She also abruptly withdrew,
giving manifest signs of one of the qualities ascribed to her.
An elderly matron then approached, holding forth one trembling, palsied
hand, with a small volume in the other. Avarabet hesitated for some
time; examined the edges as well as the surface of the nails; drew his
finger slowly over them, and then said,--"You have a susceptible heart;
you are in sorrow, but your affliction will soon have an end." It was
easy to see, in the look of the applicant, signs of pious resignation,
and a lively hope of another and a better state of existence.
I thought I perceived in the scene that was passing before us, an
exhibition that is not uncommon on our earth, of cunning knavery
imposing on ignorance and credulity; and I expressed my opinion to the
Brahmin; but he assured me that the class of persons in the moon, who
were resorted to on account of their supposed powers of divination, was
very different from the similar class in Asia or Europe, and that
oracular art was here regularly studied and professed as a branch of
philosophy. "You would be surprised," said he, "to find how successful
they have been in investing their craft with the forms and trappings of
science, the parade of classification, and the mystery imparted by
technical terms. By these means they have given plausibility enough to
their theories, to leave many a one in doubt, whether it is really a new
triumph of human discovery, or merely a later form of empiricism. Its
professors are commonly converts to their own theories, at least in a
great degree; for, strange as it may seem, there can mingle with the
disposition to deceive others, the power of deceiving one's self; and
while they exercise much acuteness and penetration in discovering, by
the air, look, dress, and manner of those who consult them, the leading
points in the history or character of persons of whom they have no
previous knowledge, they at the same time persuade themselves that they
see something indicative of their circumstances in their finger nails.
Such is the equivocal character of the greater part of their sect: but
there are some who are mere honest dupes to the pretensions of the
science; and others again, who have not one tittle of credulity to
extenuate their impudent pretensions.
"When I was here before, I remember a physician, who acquired great
celebrity by affecting to cure diseases by examining a lock of the
patient's hair; and, not content with merely pronouncing on the nature
of the disease, and suggesting the remedy, he would enter into an
elaborate, and often plausible course of reasoning, in defence of his
system. That system was briefly this: that the hair derived its length,
strength, hue, and other properties, from the brain; which opinion he
supported by a reference to acknowledged facts--as, that it changes its
hue with the difference of the mental character in the different stages
of life; that violent affections of the mind, such as grief or fear,
have been known to change it in a single night. Science on this, as on
other occasions, is merely augmenting and methodizing facts that the
mass of mankind had long observed--as, that red hair had always been
considered indicative of warm temperament; that affliction, and even
love, were believed to create baldness; and that in great terror, the
hair stands on end. The different ages too, are distinguished as much by
their hair as their complexion, their facial angle, or in any other way.
He was led to this theory first, by observing at school that a boy of a
stiff, bristly head of hair, was remarkably cruel. He professed to have
been able, from a long course of observation, to assign to every
different colour and variety of hair, its peculiar temperament and
character. One mental quality was indicated by its length, another by
its fineness, and others again as it chanced to be greasy, or lank, or
curled. He would also blow on it with a bellows, to see how the parts
arranged themselves: hold it near the fire, and watch the operation of
its crisping by the heat: and although he had often been mistaken in his
estimates of character, by the rules of his new science, he did not lose
the confidence of his disciples on that account--some of them refusing
to believe the truth, rather than to admit themselves mistaken; and
others insisting that, if his science was not infallible, it very rarely
It was now our turn to submit our hands to Avarabet for examination. He
discovered signs of the loftiest virtues and most heroic enterprise in
the Brahmin; and, near the bottom of one of his nails, a deep-rooted
sorrow, which would leave him only with his life. A transient shade of
gloom on the Brahmin's countenance was soon succeeded by a piercing,
inquisitive glance cast on the diviner. He saw the other's eyes directed
on the miniature which he always wore, and which discovered itself to
Avarabet as he stooped forward. A smile of contempt now took the place
of his first surprise, and he seemed in a state of abstraction, during
the continued rhapsodies of the oracle.
My hand was next examined; but little was said of me, except that I had
been a great traveller, and should be so again; that I should encounter
many dangers and difficulties; that I possessed more intelligence than
sensibility, and more prudence than generosity. Thus he discovered in me
great courage, enterprise, and constancy of purpose.
A hale, robust, well-set man, now bursting through the crowd, and
thrusting out his hand, abruptly asked the wise man to tell him, if he
could, in what part of the country he lived. Avarabet mentioned a
distant district on the coast of Morosofia.
"Good," said the other; "and what is my calling?"
After a slight pause, he replied, that he got his living on the water.
"Good again. Shall I ever be rich?"
"No, not very:--never."
"Better and better," rejoined the inquirer, at the same time giving vent
to a loud and hearty laugh. Surely, thought I, sailors are every where
the same sort of beings, rough and boisterous as the elements they
"And what is your opinion of me farther?"
"You are bold, frank, improvident, credulous and good-natured."
"Excellent, indeed! Now, what will you say, old sham wisdom, when I tell
you that I never made a voyage in my life; was never two days' journey
from this spot, and am seldom off my own dominion? That I own the forest
of Tongloo, where I sometimes hunt, from morning till night, and from
night till morning, twelve out of the thirteen days in the year? That my
wealth, which was considerable when I came to my estate, has, by my
habits of life, greatly increased, and that I am bent upon adding to it
yet more? I drink nothing but water; and have come here only to win a
wager, that you were not as knowing as you pretended to be, and that I
could impose on you. You thus have a specimen of my candour,
improvidence, and credulity." So saying, he leaped on his zebra, gave a
sort of huntsman's shout, and was off in a twinkling.
This adventure created great tumult in the crowd, a few enjoying the
jest, but the greater number manifesting ill-will and resentment towards
the sportsman. The Brahmin and I took advantage of the confusion, to
withdraw unnoticed by the bystanders. After remaining at our lodgings
long enough to take rest and refreshment, and to make minutes of what we
had seen, we proposed to spend the remainder of the night in the
country, the weather being more pleasant at this time in that climate,
than when the sun is above the horizon.
We accordingly set out when the earth was in her second quarter, and it
was about two of our days before sunrise. After walking about three
miles, the freshness of the morning air, the fragrance of the flowers,
and the music of innumerable birds, whose unceasing carols testified
their joy and delight at the approach of a more genial month, we came to
a large, well cultivated farm, in which a number of coarse looking men
were employed, with the aid of dogs, cross-bows, and other martial
weapons, in hunting down llamas, and a small kind of buffalo, which, in
one of our former walks, we had seen quietly feeding on a rich and
extensive pasture. We inquired of some stragglers from the throng, the
meaning of what we saw; but they were too much occupied with their sport
to afford us any satisfaction. We walked on, indulging our imaginations
in conjecture; but had not proceeded more than a quarter of a mile,
before we beheld a similar scene going on to our left, by the same
ill-looking crew. Our curiosity was now redoubled, and we resolved to
wait a while on the highway, for the chance of some passenger more at
leisure to answer our inquiries, and more courteously inclined than
these fierce marauders. We had not stopped many minutes, before a
well-dressed man, wearing the appearance of authority, having ridden up,
we asked him to explain the cause of their violent, and seemingly
lawless proceedings.
"You are strangers, I see, or you would have understood that I am
exercising my baronial privilege of doing myself justice. These cattle
belong to the owners of a neighbouring estate, by whom I and my tenants
have been injured and insulted; and, according to the usage in such
cases, I have given the signal to my people to lay hold on what they can
of his flocks and herds, and, to quicken their exertions, I give them
half of what they catch."
"And how does your neighbour bear this in the mean time?" said the
"Oh, for that matter," said the other, "he is not at all behindhand, and
I lose nearly as many cattle as I get. But it gives me much more
pleasure to kill one of his buffaloes or llamas, than it does pain me
when he kills one of mine. I consider how much it will vex him, and that
some of his vassals are thereby deprived of their sustenance. I have
upwards of thirty strong men employed in ranging this plain and wood,
and during the last year they took for me four hundred head."
"Indeed!--and how many did you lose in the same time?
"Not above three hundred and eighty."
"But very inferior?" said the Brahmin.
"Why, no," replied he: "as my pastures are richer and more luxuriant
than his, two of my cattle are worth perhaps three of his."
"Is this custom," asked the Brahmin, "an advantage or a tax on your
"A tax, indeed! Why it is worth from four to five hundred head a-year."
"And how much is it worth to your neighbour?"
"I presume nearly as much."
"Do your vassals get rich by the bounty you give them?"
"As to that matter, some who are lucky succeed very well, and the rest
make a living by it."
"And what do they give you for the privilege of hunting your neighbour's
"Nothing at all: I even lose my customary rent from those who engage in
"And it is the same case with your neighbour?"
"Certainly," said he.
"Then," said the Brahmin, "it seems to me, if you would agree to lay
aside this old custom, you would both be considerable gainers. I see you
look incredulous, but listen a moment. Each one would, in that case,
instead of having half his neighbour's cattle, have all his own; and,
being kept in their native pastures, they would be less likely to stray
away, and you could therefore slay and eat as you wanted them; whereas,
in your hunting matches many more are either killed or maimed than are
wanted for present use, and they are consequently consumed in waste. You
would, moreover, be a gainer by the amount of the labour of these thirty
boors, whom you keep in this employment, and who very probably acquire
habits of ferocity, licentiousness, and waste, which are not very
favourable to their obedience or fidelity."
The proprietor, having pondered a while upon my friend's remarks, in a
tone of exultation said,--"Do you think, then, I could ever prevail on
my people to forbear, when they saw a likely flock, from laying violent
hands on it; or could I resist so favourable an opportunity of revenge?
Nay, more; if we were then tamely to tie up our hands, do you think that
Bulderent and his men would consent to do the same? No, no, old man," he
continued, with great self-complacency, "your arguments appear plausible
at first, but when closely considered, they will not stand the lest of
experience. They are the fancies of a stranger--of one who knows more of
theory than practice. Had you lived longer among us, you would have
known that your ingenious project could never be carried into execution.
If I observed it, Bulderent would not; and if he observed it, I verily
believe I could not--and thus, you see, the thing is altogether
impracticable." As one soon tires of preaching to the winds, the Brahmin
contented himself with asking his new acquaintance to think more on the
subject at his leisure; and we proceeded on our walk.
_The travellers visit a gentleman farmer, who is a great projector: his
breed of cattle: his apparatus for cooking: he is taken
dangerously ill._
After we had gone about half a mile farther, our attention was arrested
by a gate of very singular character. It was extremely ingenious in its
structure, and, among other peculiarities, it had three or four latches,
for children, for grown persons, for those who were tall and those who
were short, and for the right hand as well as the left. In the act of
opening, it was made to crush certain berries, and the oil they yielded,
was carried by a small duct to the hinge, which was thus made to turn
easily, and was prevented from creaking. While we were admiring its
mechanism, an elderly man, rather plainly dressed, on a zebra in low
condition, rode up, and showed that he was the owner of the mansion to
which the gate belonged, and that he was not displeased with the
curiosity we manifested. We found him both intelligent and obliging. He
informed us that he was an experimental farmer; and when he learnt that
we were strangers, and anxious to inform ourselves of the state of
agriculture in the country, he very civilly invited us to take our next
meal with him. Our walk having now made us hungry and fatigued, we
gladly accepted of his hospitality; whereupon he alighted, and walked
with us to his lodgings.
He was very communicative of his modes of cultivation and management,
but chiefly prided himself on his success in improving the size of his
cattle. He informed us that he had devoted sixteen years of his life to
this object, and had then in his farm-yard a buffalo nearly as heavy as
three of the ordinary size. His practice was to kill all the young
animals which were not uncommonly large and thrifty; to cram those he
kept, with as much food as they would eat, and to tempt their appetites
by the variety of their nourishment, as well as of the modes of
preparing it.
"All this," said he, "costs a great deal, it is true; but I am paid for
it by the additional price." I was struck with this notable triumph of
industry and skill in the goodly art of husbandry--that art which I
venerate above every other; and I was all anxiety to receive from him
some instructions which I might, in case I should have the good fortune
to get safely back, communicate to my friends on Long-Island, who had
never been able even to double the common size, and who boasted greatly
of that: but a hesitating look, and a few inquiries on the part of my
sly friend, checked my enthusiasm.
"Have you always," he asked, "had the same number of acres in grain and
grass under your new and old system?"
"Pretty nearly," says the other. "My new breed, however, though fewer,
consume more than their predecessors."
"How many head did you formerly sell in a year?"
"About thirty."
"How many do you now sell?"
"Though for some years I have not sold more than nine or ten, I expect
to exceed that number in another year."
"Which you expect will yield you more than the thirty did formerly?"
"Certainly; because such meat as mine commands an extraordinary price."
"So long," replied the Brahmin, "as this is novelty, you may receive a
part of the price which men are ever ready to pay for it; but as soon as
others profit by your example, your meat falls to the ordinary rate, and
then, if I understand you aright, as you will have somewhat less in
quantity than you formerly had, your gross receipts will be less, to say
nothing of your additional labour and expense."
"But who has the skill," quickly rejoined the other, "of which I can
boast? and who would take the same trouble, although they had
"But stop here a moment," said our host, "till I go to see how my last
improved oil-cake is relished by my cattle."
The Brahmin then turning to me, said,--"This gentleman may, indeed,
improve his fortune by the business of a grazier; but the same pains and
unremitting attention would always be sure of a liberal reward, though
the system on which they were exerted was not among the best. Nothing,
my dear Atterley, is more true than the saying of your wise book--_that
all flesh is grass;_ and it always takes the same quantity of one to
make a given quantity of the other, whether that given quantity may be
in the form of a single individual, or two or three. But in the former
case, great labour is required to force nature beyond her ordinary
limits, and the same labour must be unceasingly kept up, or she will
certainly relapse to her original dimensions. This system may do, as our
host here tells us it actually does, for the moon, but it is not suited
to our earth. If, however, you are ambitious of a name among the
speculative men of your country, this little stone," added he, stooping,
and picking up a small stone from the ground, "will answer your purpose
quite as well as any improvement in husbandry. It is precisely of the
same species as those which we threw over in our aerial voyages, and
which, though correctly called moon-stones by the vulgar, (who are
oftener right than the learned suppose,) some of the western
philosophers declared to have been gravitated in the atmosphere."
"And is this really the origin," said I, "of that strange phenomenon,
which has furnished so much matter of speculation to the sages both of
Europe and America?"
"Nothing is more true," replied he. "These stones are common to the
earth and to the moon; and some of those which have been so carefully
analyzed by your most celebrated chemists, and pronounced different from
any known mineral production of the earth, were small fragments of a
very common rock in the mountains of Burma. In our first voyages we had
taken some of them with us as ballast; and those which we first threw
over, we afterwards learnt from the public journals, fell in France,
some of the others fell in India, but the greater number in the ocean.
Those which have fallen at other times, have been real fossils of the
moon, and either such stones as this I hold in my hand, or such metallic
substances as are repelled from that body, and attracted towards the
earth; and it is the force with which they strike the earth, which first
suggested the idea of a thunder-bolt.
"Our party were greatly amused at the disputations of a learned society
in Europe, in which they undertook to give a mathematical demonstration
that they could not be thrown from a volcano of the earth, nor from the
moon, but were suddenly formed in the atmosphere. I should as soon
believe that a loaf of bread could be made and baked in the atmosphere."
Finding that our landlord prided himself on his interior management, as
well as on that without doors, we expressed a wish to see some of his
household improvements. He readily consented, and conducted us at once
into his kitchen, and showed us inventions and contrivances out of
number, for saving fuel, and meat, and labour; in short, for saving
every thing but money. The large room into which he carried us, appeared
as a vast laboratory, from the infinite variety of pots, pans, skillets,
knives, forks, ladles, mortars, sieves, funnels, and other utensils of
metal, glass, pottery, and wood. The steam which he used for cooking,
was carried along a pipe under a succession of kettles and boilers,
descending in regular gradation, by which a great saving of fuel was
effected; and, to perfect this part of the apparatus, the pipe could be
removed, to give place to one of the size suited to the occasion.
His seven-guest pipe was now in use. The wood, which was all cut to the
same length, and channelled out to admit the free passage of the air,
was then duly placed in the stove, and set on fire; but the heat not
passing very readily through all the sinuosities of the pipe, he ordered
his head cook to screw on his exhauster. The man, in less than ten
minutes, unscrewed a plate at the farther end, and fixed on an air-pump,
made for the purpose, on which the door of the stove suddenly slammed
to. Our host saw the accident, and hurrying to open the stove, fell over
a heap of channelled logs, and cut a gash in his forehead. The cook ran
to help him up; and after he was on his legs, and his forehead wiped,
the stove was opened, when the fire, which had been deprived of its
aliment, was entirely extinguished. I thought he was hardly sorry for
the accident, as it afforded him an occasion of showing how ingeniously
he kindled a fire. He had an electric machine brought to him, by means
of which he set fire to a few grains of gunpowder; this lighted some
tinder, which again ignited spirits, whose blaze reached the lower
extremity of his lamp. Taking the precaution of keeping the stove open
this time, the air was again exhausted at the farther end of the pipe,
and in a little time the flame was seen to ascend even to the air-pump,
and to scorch the parts made of wood; whereupon I saw a glow of triumph
on his face, which amply compensated him for his wound and vexation.
There was a grand machine for roasting, that carried the fire round the
meat, the juices of which, he said, by a rotary motion, would be thrown
to the surface, and either evaporate or be deteriorated. Here was also
his digestor, for making soup of rams' horns, which he assured me
contained a good deal of nourishment, and the only difficulty was in
extracting it. He next showed us his smoke-retractor, which received the
smoke near the top of the chimney, and brought it down to be burnt over
again, by which he computed that he saved five cords and a half of wood
in a year. The fire which dressed his victuals, pumped up, by means of a
steam engine, water for the kitchen turned one or more spits, as well as
two or three mills for grinding pepper, salt, &c.; and then, by a
spindle through the wall, worked a churn in the dairy, and cleaned the
knives: the forks, indeed, were still cleaned by hand; but he said he
did not despair of effecting this operation in time, by machinery. I
mentioned to him our contrivance of silver forks, to lessen this labour;
but he coldly remarked, that he imagined science was in its infancy
He informed us that he had been ten years in completing this ingenious
machine; and certainly, when it was in full operation, I never saw
exultation and delight so strongly depicted in any human face. The
various sounds and sights, that met the ear and eye, in rapid
succession, still farther worked on his feelings, and heightened his
raptures. There was such a simmering, and hissing, and bubbling of
boiled, and broiled, and fried--such a whirling, and jerking, and
creaking of wheels, and cranks, and pistons--such clouds of steam, and
vapours, and even smoke, notwithstanding all of the latter that was
burnt,--that I almost thought myself in some great manufactory.
After having suffered as much as we could well bear, from the heat and
confined air of this laboratory of eatables, and passed the proper
number of compliments on the skill and ingenuity they displayed, we
ascended to his hall, to partake of that feast, to prepare which we had
seen all the elements and the mechanical powers called into action.
There were a few of his city acquaintances present, besides ourselves:
but whether it was owing to the effect of the steam from the dishes on
our stomachs, or that this scientific cookery was not suited to our
unpractised palates, I know not, but we all made an indifferent repast,
except our host, who tasted every dish, and seemed to relish them all.
After sitting some time at table, conversing on the progress of science,
its splendid achievements, and the pleasing prospects which it yet dimly
showed in the future, our hospitable entertainer, perceiving we were
fatigued with the labours of the day, invited us to take our next
_lallaneae_, or sleep, with him, for which hospitality we felt very
grateful. We were then shown to a room, in which there were marks of the
same fertile invention, in saving labour and promoting convenience; but
we were too sleepy to take much notice of them. Our beds were filled
with air, which is quite as good as feathers, except that when the
leather covering gets a hole in it, from ripping, or other accidents, it
loses its elasticity with its air--an accident which happened to me this
very night; for a mouse having gnawed the leather where the housemaid's
greasy fingers had left a mark, I sunk gently down, not to soft repose,
but on the hard planks, where I uncomfortably lay until the bell warned
us to rise for breakfast.
As soon as I was dressed, I walked out into a large garden, and, as the
sun was not yet so high as to make it sultry, was enjoying the balmy
sweetness of the air, and the flowering shrubs, which in beauty and
fragrance almost exceeded those of India, when I saw a servant run by
the garden wall, enter the stable, and bring out a zebra. On inquiring
the cause, I was made to understand that our noble host was taken
suddenly ill. I immediately returned to the house, and found the
domestics running to and fro, and manifesting the greatest anxiety, as
well as hurry, in their looks. I went into the Brahmin's room, and found
him dressed. He went out, and after some time, informed me that our kind
host had a violent _cholera morbus_, in consequence of the various kinds
of food with which he had overloaded his stomach at dinner; that he
considered himself near his last end, and was endeavouring to arrange
his affairs for the event.
I could not help meditating on the melancholy uncertainty of human life,
when I contrasted the comforts, the pleasures, the pride of conscious
usefulness and genius felt by this gentleman a short time since, with
the agony which that trying and bitter hour brings to the stoutest and
most callous heart--when it must quit this state of being for another,
of which it knows so little, and over which fear and doubt throw a gloom
that hope cannot entirely dispel.
_Lunarian physicians: their consultation--While they dispute the patient
recovers--The travellers visit the celebrated teacher Lozzi Pozzi._
While I indulged in these sad meditations, and felt for my host while I
felt no less for myself, I saw the physician approach who had been sent
for. He was a tall, thin man, with a quick step, a lively, piercing eye,
a sallow complexion, and very courteous manners, and always willing to
display the ready flow of words for which he was remarkable. I felt
great curiosity to witness the skill of this Lunar Aesculapius, and he
was evidently pleased with the interest I manifested. It turned out that
he was well acquainted with the Brahmin; and learning from the latter my
wish, he conducted me into the room of our sick host. We found him lying
on a straw bed, and strangely altered within a few hours. The physician,
after feeling his pulse, (which, as every country has its peculiar
customs, is done here about the temples and neck, instead of the
wrist)--after examining his tongue, his teeth, his water, and feces,
proposed bleeding. We all walked to the door, and ventured to oppose the
doctor's prescription, suggesting that the copious evacuations he had
already experienced, might make bleeding useless, if not dangerous.
"How little like a man of sense you speak," said the other; "how readily
you have chimed in with the prejudices of the vulgar! I should have
expected better things from you: but the sway of empiricism is destined
yet to have a long struggle before it receives its final overthrow. I
have attacked it with success in many quarters; but when it has been
prostrated in one place, it soon rises up in another. Have you, my good
friend, seen my last essay on morbid action?"
The Brahmin replied, that he had not yet had an opportunity of meeting
"I am sorry you have not," said the other. "I have there completely
demonstrated that disease is an unit, and that it is the extreme of
folly to divide diseases into classes, which tend but to produce
confusion of ideas, and an unscientific practice. Sir," continued he, in
a more animated tone, "there is a beautiful simplicity in this theory,
which gives us assurance of its conformity to nature and truth. It needs
but to be seen to be understood--but to be understood, to be approved,
and carried into successful operation."
The Brahmin asked him if this unit did not present different symptoms on
different occasions.
"Certainly," he replied: "from too much or too little action, in this
set of vessels or that, it is differently modified, and must be treated
accordingly."
"This unit, then," said my friend, "assumes different forms, and
requires various remedies? Is there not, then, a convenience in
separating these modifications (or _forms_, if you prefer it) from one
another, by different names?"
"Stop, my friend; you do not apprehend the matter. I will explain." At
this moment two other gentlemen, of a grave aspect and demeanour,
entered the room. They also were physicians of great reputation in the
city. They appeared to be formal and reserved towards one another, but
they each manifested still more shyness and coldness towards the learned
Shuro. They entered the sick chamber, and having informed themselves of
the state of the patient, all three withdrew to a consultation.
They had not been long together, before their voices grew, from a
whisper, so loud, that we could distinctly hear all they said. "Sir,"
says Dr. Shakrack, "the patient is in a state of direct debility: we
must stimulate, if we would restore a healthy action. Pour in the
_stimulantia_ and _irritentia_, and my life for it, the patient
"Will you listen to me for one moment?" says Dr. Dridrano, the youngest
of the three gentlemen. "It may be presumption for one of my humble
pretensions to set myself in opposition to persons of your age,
experience, and celebrity; but I am bound, by the sacred duties of the
high functions I have undertaken to perform, to use my poor abilities in
such a way as I can, to advance the noble science of medicine, and, in
so doing, to give strength to the weak, courage to the disheartened, and
comfort to the afflicted. Gentlemen, I say, I hope if my simple views
should be found widely different from yours, you will not impute it to a
presumption which is as foreign to my nature as it would be unsuited to
your merits. I consider the human body a mere machine, whose parts are
complicated, whose functions are various, and whose operations are
liable to be impeded and frustrated by a variety of obstacles. There is,
you know, one set of tubes, or vessels, for the blood; another for the
lymph; another for the sweat; and so on. Now, although each of these
fluids has its several channels, yet, if by any accident any one of them
is obstructed, and there is so great an accumulation of the obstructed
fluid that it cannot find vent by its natural channel, or duct, then you
must carry off the redundancy by some other; for you well know, that
that which can be carried off by one, can be carried off by all.
Gentlemen, I beg you not to turn away; hear me for a moment. Then, if
the current of the blood be obstructed, I make large draughts of urine,
or sweat or saliva, or of the liquor amnii; and I find it matters little
which of these evacuants I resort to. This system, to which, with
deference to your longer experience, I have had the honour of giving
some celebrity in Morosofia, explains how it is that such various
remedies for the same disease have been in vogue at different times.
They have all had in town able advocates. I could adduce undeniable
testimonials of their efficacy, because, in fact, they are all
efficacious; and it seems to me a mere matter of earthshine, whether we
resort to one or the other mode of restoring the equilibrium of the
human machine; all that we have to do, being to know when and to what
extent it is proper to use either. Determine, then, gentlemen,--you, for
whose maturer judgment and years I feel profound respect,--whether we
shall blister, or sweat, or bleed, or salivate."
Dr. Shuro, who had manifested his impatience at this long harangue, by
frequent interruptions, and which Dridrano's show of deference could
scarcely keep down, hastily replied: "You have manifestly taken the hint
of your theory from me; and because I have advanced the doctrine that
disease is an unit, you come forward now, and insist that remedy is an
"You do me great honour, learned sir," said Dridrano. "Surely it would
be very unbecoming, in one of my age and standing, to set up a theory in
opposition to yours, but it would be yet more discreditable to be a
plagiarist; and, with all due respect for your superior wisdom, it does
seem to my feeble intellect, that no two theories can be more different.
You use several remedies for one disease: I admit several diseases, and
use one remedy."
"And does not darkness remind us of light," replied Shuro, "by the
contrast? heat of cold--north of south?"
"Gentlemen," then said Shakrack, who had been walking to and fro, during
the preceding controversy, "as you seem to agree so ill with each other,
I trust you will unite in adopting my course. Let us begin with this
cordial; we will then vary the stimulus, if necessary, by means of the
elixir, and you will see the salutary effects immediately. A loss of
blood would still farther increase the debility of the patient; and I
appeal to your candour, Dr. Shuro, whether you ever practised
venesection in such a case?"
"In such a case? ay, in what _you_ would call much worse. I was not long
since called in to a man in a dropsy. I opened a vein. He seemed from
that moment to feel relief; and he so far recovered, that after a short
time I bled him again. I returned the next day, and had I arrived half
an hour sooner, I should have bled him a third time, and in all human
probability have saved his life."
"If you had stimulated him, you might have had an opportunity of making
your favourite experiment a little oftener," said Shakrack.
"You are facetious, sir; I imagine you have been using your own panacea
somewhat too freely to-day."
"Not so," said his opponent, angrily; "but if you are not more guarded
in your expressions, I shall make use of yours, in a way you
won't like."
Upon which they proceeded to blows, Dridrano all the while bellowing, "I
beg, my worthy seniors, for the honour of science, that you
will forbear!"
The noise of the dispute had waked the patient, who, learning the cause
of the disturbance, calmly begged they would give themselves no concern
about him, but let him die in peace. The domestics, who had been for
some time listening to the dispute, on hearing the scuffle, ran in and
parted the angry combatants, who, like an abscess just lanced, were
giving vent to all the malignant humours that had been so long silently
In the mean while, the smooth and considerate Dr. Dridrano stept into
the sick room, with the view of offering an apology for the unmannerly
conduct of his brethren, and of tendering his single services, as the
other sages of the healing art could not agree in the course to be
pursued; when he found that the patient, profiting by the simple
remedies of the Brahmin, and an hour's rest, had been so much refreshed,
that he considered himself out of danger, and that he had no need of
medical assistance; or, at any rate, he was unwilling to follow the
prescriptions of one physician, which another, if not two others,
unhesitatingly condemned. Each one then received his fee, and hurried
home, to publish his own statement of the case in a pamphlet.
The Brahmin, who had never left the sick man's couch during his sleep,
now that he was out of danger, was greatly diverted at the dispute. But
he good-naturedly added, that, notwithstanding the ridiculous figure
they had that day made, they were all men of genius and ability, but had
done their parts injustice by their vanity, and the ambition of
originating a new theory. "With all the extravagance," said he, "to
which they push their several systems, they are not unsuccessful in
practice, for habitual caution, and an instinctive regard for human
life, which they never can extinguish, checks them in carrying their
hypotheses into execution: and if I might venture to give an opinion on
a subject of which I know so little, and there is so much to be known, I
would say, that the most common error of theorists is to consider man as
a machine, rather than an animal, and subject to one set of the laws of
matter, rather than as subject to them all.
"Thus," he continued, "we have been regarded by one class of theorists
as an hydraulic engine, composed of various tubes fitted with their
several fluids, the laws and functions of which have been deduced from
calculations of velocities, altitudes, diameters, friction, &c. Another
class considered man as a mere chemical engine, and his stomach as an
alembic. The doctrine of affinities, attractions, and repulsions, now
had full play. Then came the notion of sympathies and antipathies, by
which name unknown and unknowable causes were sought to be explained,
and ignorance was cunningly veiled in mystery. But the science will
never be in the right tract of improvement, until we consider,
conjointly, the mechanical operations of the fluids, the chemical agency
of the substances taken into the stomach, and the animal functions of
digestion, secretion, and absorption, as evinced by actual observation."
I told him that I believed that was now the course which was actually
pursued in the best medical schools, both of Europe and America.
Our worthy host, though very feeble, had so far recovered as to dress
himself, and receive the congratulations of his household, who had all
manifested a concern for his situation, that was at once creditable to
him and themselves. Expressing our gratitude for his kind attentions,
and promising to renew our visit if we could, we bade him adieu.
We took a different road home from the way we had come, and had not
walked far, before we met a number of small boys, each having a bag on
his back, as large as he could stagger under. Surprised at seeing
children of their tender years, thus prematurely put to severe labour, I
was about to rail at the absurd custom of this strange country, when my
friend checked me for my hasty judgment, and told me that these boys
were on their way to school, after their usual monthly holiday. We
attended them to their schoolhouse, which stood in sight, on the side of
a steep chalky hill. The Brahmin told me that the teacher's name was
Lozzi Pozzi, and that he had acquired great celebrity by his system of
instruction. When the boys opened their bags, I found that instead of
books and provisions, as I had expected, they were filled with sticks,
which they told us constituted the arithmetical lessons they were
required to practise at home. These sticks were of different lengths and
dimensions, according to the number marked on them; so that by looking
at the inscription, you could tell the size, or by seeing or feeling the
size, you could tell the number.
The master now made his appearance, and learning our errand, was very
communicative. He descanted on the advantages of this manual, and ocular
mode of teaching the science of numbers, and gave us practical
illustrations of its efficacy, by examining his pupils in our presence.
He told the first boy he called up, and who did not seem to be more than
seven or eight years of age, to add 5, 3, and 7 together, and tell him
the result. The little fellow set about hunting, with great alacrity,
over his bag, until he found a piece divided like three fingers, then a
piece with five divisions, and lastly, one with seven, and putting them
side by side, he found the piece of a correspondent length, and thus, in
less than eight minutes and a half, answered, "fifteen." The ingenious
master then exercised another boy in subtraction, and a third in
multiplication: but the latter was thrown into great confusion, for one
of the pieces having lost a division, it led him to a wrong result.
The teacher informed us that he taught geometry in the same way, and had
even extended it to grammar, logic, rhetoric, and the art of
composition. The rules of syntax were discovered by pieces of wood,
interlocking with each other in squares, dovetails, &c., after the
manner of geographical cards; and as they chanced to fit together, so
was the concordance between the several parts of speech ascertained. The
machine for composition occupied a large space; different sets of
synonymes were arranged in compartments of various sizes. When the
subject was familiar, a short piece was used; when it was stately or
heroic, then the longest slips that could be found were resorted to.
Those that were rounded at the ends were mellifluous; the jagged ones
were harsh; the thick pieces expressed force and vigour. Where the
curves corresponded at one end, they served for alliteration; and when
at the other, they answered for rhyme. By way of proving its progress,
he showed us a composition by a man who was deaf and dumb, in praise of
Morosofia, who, merely by the use of his eyes and hands, had made an
ingenious and high-sounding piece of eloquence, though I confess that
the sense was somewhat obscure. We went away filled with admiration for
the great Lozzi Pozzi's inventions.
Having understood that there was an academy in the neighbourhood, in
which youths of maturer years were instructed in the fine arts, we were
induced to visit it; but there being a vacation at that time, we could
see neither the professors nor students, and consequently could gain
little information of the course of discipline and instruction pursued
there. We were, however, conducted to a small _menagerie_ attached to
the institution, by its keeper, where the habits and accomplishments of
the animals bore strong testimony in favour of the diligence and skill
of their teachers.
We there saw two game-cocks, which, so far from fighting, (though they
had been selected from the most approved breed,) billed and cooed like
turtle-doves. There was a large zebra, apparently ill-tempered, which
showed his anger by running at and butting every animal that came in his
way. Two half-grown llamas, which are naturally as quiet and timid as
sheep, bit each other very furiously, until they foamed at the mouth.
And, lastly, a large mastiff made his appearance, walking in a slow,
measured gait, with a sleek tortoise-shell cat on his back; and she, in
turn, was surmounted by a mouse, which formed the apex of this
singular pyramid.
The keeper, remarking our unaffected surprise at the exhibition, asked
us if we could now doubt the unlimited force of education, after such a
display of the triumph of art over nature. While he was speaking, the
mastiff, being jostled by the two llamas still awkwardly worrying each
other, turned round so suddenly, that the mouse was dislodged from his
lofty position, and thrown to the ground; on seeing which, the cat
immediately sprang upon it, with a loud purring noise, which being heard
by the dog, he, with a fierce growl, suddenly seized the cat. The
llamas, alarmed at this terrific sound, instinctively ran off, and
having, in their flight, approached the heels of the zebra, he gave a
kick, which killed one of them on the spot.
The keeper, who was deeply mortified at seeing the fabric he had raised
with such indefatigable labour, overturned in a moment, protested that
nothing of the sort had ever happened before. To which we replied, by
way of consolation, that perhaps the same thing might never happen
again; and that, while his art had achieved a conquest over nature, this
was only a slight rebellion of nature against art. We then thanked him
for his politeness, and took our leave.
CHAPTER XII.
_Election of the Numnoonce, or town-constable--Violence
of parties--Singular institution of the Syringe Boys--The
prize-fighters--Domestic manufactures._
When we got back to the city, we found an unusual stir and bustle among
the citizens, and on inquiring the cause, we understood they were about
to elect the town-constable. After taking some refreshment at our
lodgings, where we were very kindly received, we again went out, and
were hurried along with the crowd, to a large building near the centre
of the city. The multitude were shouting and hallooing with great
vehemence. The Brahmin remarking an elderly man, who seemed very quiet
in the midst of all this ferment, he thought him a proper person to
address for information.
"I suppose," says he, "from the violence of these partisans, they are on
different sides in religion or politics?"
"Not at all," said the other; "those differences are forgotten at the
present, and the ground of the dispute is, that one of the candidates is
tall, and the other is short--one has a large foretop, and the other is
bald. Oh, I forgot; one has been a schoolmaster, and the other
Curiosity now prompted me to enter into the thickest of the throng; and
I had never seen such fury in the maddest contests between old George
Clinton and Mr. Jay, or De Witt Clinton and Governor Tompkins, in my
native State. They each reproached their adversaries in the coarsest
language, and attributed to them the vilest principles and motives. Our
guide farther told us that the same persons, with two others, had been
candidates last year, when the schoolmaster prevailed; and, as the
supporters of the other two unsuccessful candidates had to choose now
between the remaining two, each party was perpetually reproaching the
other with inconsistency. A dialogue between two individuals of opposite
sides, which we happened to hear, will serve as a specimen of the rest.
"Are you not a pretty fellow to vote for Bald-head, whom you have so
often called rogue and blockhead?"
"It becomes you to talk of consistency, indeed! Pray, sir, how does it
happen that you are now against him, when you were so lately sworn
friends, and used to eat out of the same dish?"
"Yes; but I was the butcher's friend too. I never abused him. You'll
never catch me supporting a man I have once abused."
"But I catch you abusing the man you once supported, which is rather
worse. The difference between us is this:--you professed to be friendly
to both; I professed to be hostile to both: you stuck to one of your
friends, and cast the other off; and I acted the same towards my
enemies." A crowd then rushed by, crying "Huzza for the Butcher's
knives! Damn pen and ink--damn the books, and all that read in them!
Butchers' knives and beef for ever!"
We asked our guide what these men were to gain by the issue of the
"Nineteenths of them nothing. But a few hope to be made deputies, if
their candidates succeed, and they therefore egg on the rest."
We drew near to the scaffold where the candidates stood, and our ears
were deafened with the mingled shouts and exclamations of praise and
reproach. "You cheated the corporation!" says one. "You killed two black
sheep!" says another. "You can't read a warrant!" "You let Dondon cheat
you!" "You tried to cheat Nincan!" "You want to build a watch-house!"
"You have an old ewe at home now, that you did not come honestly by!"
"You denied your own hand!"--with other ribaldry still more gross and
indecent. But the most singular part of the scene was a number of little
boys, dressed in black and white, who all wore badges of the parties to
which they belonged, and were provided with a syringe, and two canteens,
one filled with rose-water, and the other with a black liquid, of a very
offensive smell, the first of which they squirted at their favourite
candidates and voters, and the last on those of the opposite party. They
were drawn up in a line, and seemed to be under regular discipline; for,
whenever the captain of the band gave the word, "Vilti Mindoc!" they
discharged the dirty liquid from their syringes; and when he said "Vilti
Goulgoul!" they filled the air with perfume, that was so overpowering as
sometimes to produce sickness. The little fellows would, between whiles,
as if to keep their hands in, use the black squirts against one another;
but they often gave them a dash of the rose-water at the same time.
I wondered to see men submit to such indignity; but was told that the
custom had the sanction of time; that these boys were brought up in the
church, and were regularly trained to this business. "Besides," added my
informer, "the custom is not without its use; for it points out the
candidates at once to a stranger, and especially him who is successful,
those being always the most blackened who are the most popular." But it
was amusing to see the ludicrous figure that the candidates and some of
the voters made. If you came near them on one side, they were like roses
dripping with the morning dew; but on the other, they were as black as
chimney sweeps, and more offensive than street scavengers. As these
Syringe Boys, or Goulmins, are thus protected by custom, the persons
assailed affected to despise them; but I could ever and anon see some of
the most active partisans clapping them on the back, and saying, "Well
done, my little fellows! give it to them again! You shall have a
ginger-cake--and you shall have a new cap," &c. Surely, thought I, our
custom of praising and abusing our public men in the newspapers, is far
more rational than this. After the novelty of the scene was over, I
became wearied and disgusted with their coarseness, violence, and want
of decency, and we left them without waiting to see the result of
the contest.
In returning to our lodgings, the Brahmin took me along a quarter of the
town in which I had never before been. In a little while we came to a
lofty building, before the gate of which a great crowd were assembled.
"This," said my companion, "is one of the courts of justice." Anxious to
see their modes of proceeding in court, I pushed through the crowd,
followed by the Brahmin, and on entering the building, found myself in a
spacious amphitheatre, in the middle of which I beheld, with surprise,
several men engaged, hand to hand, in single combat. On asking an
explanation of my friend, he informed me that these contests were
favourite modes of settling private disputes in Morosofia: that the
prize-fighters I saw, hired themselves to any one who conceived himself
injured in person, character, or property. "It seems a strange mode of
settling legal disputes," I remarked, "which determines a question in
favour of a party, according to the strength and wind of his champion."
"Nor is that all," said the Brahmin, "as the judges assign the victory
according to certain rules and precedents, the reasons of which are
known only to themselves, if known at all, and which are often
sufficiently whimsical--as sometimes a small scratch in the head avails
more than a disabling blow in the body. The blows too, must be given in
the right time, as well as in the right place, or they pass for nothing.
In short, of all those spectators who are present to witness the powers
and address of the prize-fighters, not one in a hundred can tell who has
gained the victory, until the judges have proclaimed it."
"I presume," said I, "that the champions who thus expose their persons
and lives in the cause of another, are Glonglims?"
"There," said he, "you are altogether mistaken. In the first place, the
prize-fighters seldom sustain serious injury. Their weapons do not
endanger life; and as each one knows that his adversary is merely
following his vocation, they often fight without animosity. After the
contest is over, you may commonly see the combatants walking and talking
very sociably together: but as this circumstance makes them a little
suspected by the public, they affect the greater rage when in conflict,
and occasionally quarrel and fight in downright earnest. No," he
continued, "I am told it is a very rare thing to see one of these
prize-fighters who is a Glonglim; but most of their employers belong to
this unhappy race."
On looking more attentively, I perceived many of these beings among the
spectators, showing, by their gestures, the greatest anxiety for the
issue of the contest. They each carried a scrip, or bag, the contents of
which they ever and anon gave to their respective champions, whose wind,
it is remarked, is very apt to fail, unless thus assisted.
Having learnt some farther particulars respecting this singular mode of
litigation, which would be uninteresting to the general reader, I took
my leave, not without secretly congratulating myself on the more
rational modes in which justice is administered on earth.
When we had nearly reached our lodgings, we heard a violent altercation
in the house, and on entering, we found our landlord and his wife
engaged in a dispute respecting their domestic economy, and they both
made earnest appeals to my companion for the correctness of their
respective opinions. The old man was in favour of their children making
their own shoes and clothes; and his wife insisted that it would be
better for them to stick to their garden and dairy, with the proceeds of
which they could purchase what they wanted. She asserted that they could
readily sell all the fruits and vegetables they could raise; and that
whilst they would acquire greater skill by an undivided attention to one
thing, they who followed the business of tailors, shoemakers, and
seamstresses, would, in like manner, become more skilful in their
employments, and consequently be able to work at a cheaper rate. She
farther added, that spinning and sewing were unhealthy occupations; they
would give the girls the habit of stooping, which would spoil their
shapes; and that their thoughts would be more likely to be running on
idle and dangerous fancies, when sitting at their needles, than when
engaged in more active occupations.
This dame was a very fluent, ready-witted woman, and she spoke with the
confidence that consciousness of the powers of disputation commonly
inspires. She went on enlarging on the mischiefs of the practice she
condemned, and, by insensible gradations, so magnified them, that at
last she clearly made out that there was no surer way of rendering their
daughters sickly, deformed, vicious, and unchaste, than to set them
about making their own clothes.
After she had ceased, (which she did under a persuasion that she had
anticipated and refuted every argument that could be urged in opposition
to her doctrine,) the husband, with an emotion of anger that he could
not conceal, began to defend his opinion. He said, as to the greater
economy of his plan, there could be no doubt; for although they might,
at particular times, make more by gardening than they could save by
spinning or sewing, yet there were other times when they could not till
the ground, and when, of course, if they did not sew or spin, they would
be idle; but if they did work, the proceeds would be clear gain. He said
he did not wish his daughters to be constantly employed in making
clothes, nor was it necessary that they should be. A variety of other
occupations, equally indispensable, claimed their attention, and would
leave but a comparatively small portion of time for needlework: that in
thus providing themselves with employment at home, they at least saved
the time of going backwards and forwards, and were spared some trips to
market, for the sale of vegetables to pay, as would then be necessary,
for the work done by others. Besides, the tailor who was most convenient
to them, and who, it was admitted, was a very good one, was insolent and
capricious; would sometimes extort extravagant prices, or turn them into
ridicule; and occasionally went so far as to set his water-dogs upon
them, of which he kept a great number. He declared, that for his part he
would incur a little more expense, rather than he would be so imposed
upon, and subjected to so much indignity and vexation.
He denied that sewing would affect his daughters' health, unless,
perhaps, they followed it exclusively as an occupation; but, as they
would have it in their power to consult their inclinations and
convenience in this matter, they might take it up when the occasion
required, and lay it down whenever they found it irksome or fatiguing:
that as they themselves were inclined to follow this course, it was a
plain proof that the occupation was not unhealthy. He maintained that
they would stoop just as much in gardening, and washing and nursing
their children, as in sewing; and that we were not such frail or
unpliant machines as to be seriously injured, unless we persisted in one
set of straight, formal notions, but that we were adapted to variety,
and were benefited by it. That as to the practice being favourable to
wantonness and vice, while he admitted that idleness was productive of
these effects, he could not see how one occupation encouraged them more
than another. That the tailor, for example, whom he had been speaking
of, though purse-proud, overbearing, and rapacious, was not more immoral
or depraved than his neighbours, and had probably less of the libertine
than most of them. He admitted that evil thoughts would enter the mind
in any situation, and could not reasonably be expected to be kept out of
his daughters' heads (being, as he said, but women): yet he conceived
such a result as far less probable, if they were suffered to ramble
about in the streets, and to chaffer with their customers, than if they
were kept to sedate and diligent employment at home.
Having, with great warmth and earnestness, used these arguments, he
concluded, by plainly hinting to his wife that she had always been the
apologist of the tailor, in all their disputes; and that she could not
be so obstinately blind to the irrefragable reasoning he had urged, if
she were not influenced by her old hankering after this fellow, and did
not consult his interests in preference to those of her own family. Upon
this remark the old woman took fire, and, in spite of our presence, they
both had recourse to direct and the coarsest abuse.
The Brahmin did not, as I expected, join me in laughing at the scene we
had just witnessed; but, after some musing, observed: "There is much
truth in what each of these parties say. I blame them only for the
course they take towards each other. Their dispute is, in fact, of a
most frivolous and unmeaning character; for, if the father was to carry
his point, the girls would occasionally sell the productions of their
garden, and pay for making their clothes, or even buy them ready made.
Were the mother, on the other hand, to prevail, they would still
occasionally use their needles, and exercise their taste and skill in
sewing, spinning, knitting, and the like. Nay," added he, "if you had
not been so much engrossed with this angry and indecorous altercation,
you might have seen two of them at their needles, in an adjoining
apartment, while one was busy at work in the garden, and another up to
the elbows in the soap-suds--all so closely engaged in their several
pursuits, that they hardly seemed to know they were the subject of
discussion."
I told the Brahmin that a dispute, not unlike this, had taken place in
my own country, a few years since; some of our politicians contending
that agricultural labour was most conducive to the national wealth,
whilst others maintained that manufacturing industry was equally
advantageous, wherever it was voluntarily pursued;--but that the
controversy had lately assumed a different character--the question now
being, not whether manufactures are as beneficial as agriculture, but
whether they deserve extraordinary encouragement, by taxing those who do
not give them a preference.
"That is," said the Brahmin, "as if our landlady, by way of inducing her
daughters to give up gardening for spinning, were to tell them, if they
did not find their new occupation as profitable as the old, she would
more than make up the difference out of her own pocket, which, though it
might suit the daughters very well, would be a losing business to
the family."
CHAPTER XIII.
_Description of the Happy Valley--The laws, customs, and manners of the
Okalbians--Theory of population--Rent--System of government._
The Brahmin, who was desirous of showing me what was most remarkable in
this country, during the short time we intended to stay, thought this a
favourable time to visit Okalbia, or the Happy Valley. The Okalbians are
a tribe or nation, who live separated from the rest of the Lunar world,
and whose wise government, prudence, industry, and integrity, are very
highly extolled by all, though, by what I can learn, they have few
imitators. They dwell about three hundred miles north of the city of
Alamatua, in a fertile valley, which they obtained by purchase about two
hundred years since, and which is about equal to twenty miles square,
that is, to four hundred square miles. A carriage and four well-broke
dogs, was procured for us, and we soon reached the foot of the mountain
that encloses the fortunate valley, in about fifty-two hours. We then
ascended, for about three miles, with far fatigue than I formerly
experienced in climbing the Catskill mountains of my native State, and
found ourselves on the summit of an extensive ridge, which formed the
margin of a vast elliptical basin, the bottom of which presented a most
beautiful landscape. The whole surface was like a garden, interspersed
with patches of wood, clumps of trees, and houses standing singly or in
groupes. A lake, about a mile across, received several small streams,
and on its edge was a town, containing about a thousand houses. After
enjoying the beauties of the scene for some minutes, we descended by a
rough winding road, and entered this Lunar Paradise, in about four
hours. Along the sides of the highway we travelled, were planted rows of
trees, not unlike our sycamores, which afforded a refreshing shade to
the traveller; and commonly a rivulet ran bubbling along one side or the
other of the road.
After journeying about eight miles, we entered a neat, well built town,
which contained, as we were informed, about fifteen thousand
inhabitants. The Brahmin informed me, that in a time of religious
fervour, about two centuries ago, a charter was granted to the founder
of a new sect, the Volbins, who had chanced to make converts of some of
the leading men in Morosofia, authorising him and his followers to
purchase this valley of the hunting tribe to whom it belonged, and to
govern themselves by their own laws. They found no difficulty in making
the purchase. It was then used as a mere hunting ground, no one liking
to settle in a place that seemed shut out from the rest of the world. At
first, the new settlers divided the land equally among all the
inhabitants, one of their tenets being, that as there was no difference
of persons in the next world, there should be no difference in sharing
the good things of this. They tried at first to preserve this equality;
but finding it impracticable, they abandoned it. It is said that after
about thirty years, by reason of a difference in their industry and
frugality, and of some families spending less than they made, and some
more, the number of land owners was reduced to four hundred, and that
fifty of these held one half of the whole; since which time the number
of landed proprietors has declined with the population, though not in
the same proportion. As the soil is remarkably fertile, the climate
healthy, and the people temperate and industrious, they multiplied very
rapidly until they reached their present numbers, which have been long
stationary, and amount to 150,000, that is, about four hundred to a
square mile; of these, more than one half live in towns and villages,
containing from one hundred to a thousand houses.
They have little or no commerce with any other people, the valley
producing every vegetable production, and the mountains every mineral,
which they require; and in fact, they have no foreign intercourse
whatever, except when they visit, or are visited from curiosity. Though
they have been occasionally bullied and threatened by lawless and
overbearing neighbours; yet, as they can be approached by only a single
gorge in the mountain, which is always well garrisoned, (and they
present no sufficient object to ambition, to compensate for the scandal
of invading so inoffensive and virtuous a people,) they have never yet
been engaged in war.
I felt very anxious to know how it was that their numbers did not
increase, as they were exempt from all pestilential diseases, and live
in such abundance, that a beggar by trade has never been known among
them, and are remarkable for their moral habits.
"Let us inquire at the fountain-head," said the Brahmin; and we went to
see the chief magistrate, who received us in a style of unaffected
frankness, which in a moment put us at our ease. After we had explained
to him who we were, and answered such inquiries as he chose to make:
"Sir," said I, through the Brahmin, who acted as interpreter, "I have
heard much of your country, and I find, on seeing it, that it exceeds
report, in the order, comfort, contentment, and abundance of the people.
But I am puzzled to find out how it is that your numbers do not
increase. I presume you marry late in life?"
"On the contrary," said he; "every young man marries as soon as he
receives his education, and is capable of managing the concerns of a
family. Some are thus qualified sooner, and some later."
"Some occasionally migrate, then?"
"Never. A number of our young men, indeed, visit foreign countries, but
not one in a hundred settles abroad."
"How, then, do your associates continue stationary?"
"Nothing is more easy. No man has a larger family than his land or
labour can support, in comfort; and as long as that is the case with
every individual, it must continue to be the case with the whole
community. We leave the matter to individual discretion. The prudential
caution which is thus indicated, has been taught us by our own
experience. We had gone on increasing, under the encouraging influence
of a mild system of laws, genial climate, and fruitful soil, until,
about a century ago, we found that our numbers were greater than our
country, abundant as it is, could comfortably support; and our seasons
being unfavourable for two successive years, many of our citizens were
obliged to banish themselves from Okalbia; and their education not
fitting them for a different state of society, they suffered severely,
both in their comforts and morals. It is now a primary moral duty,
enforced by all our juvenile instructors with every citizen, to adapt
his family to his means; and thus a regard which each individual has for
his offspring, is the salvation of the State."
"And can these prudential restraints be generally practised? What a
virtuous people! Love for one another brings the two sexes
together--love for their offspring makes them separate!"
"I see," said the magistrate, smiling, "you are under an error. No
separation takes place, and none is necessary."
"How, then, am I to believe.....?"
"You are to believe nothing," said he, with calm dignity, "which is
incompatible with virtue and propriety. I see that the most important of
all sciences--that one on which the well-being and improvement of
society mainly depends,--is in its infancy with you. But whenever you
become as populous as we are, and unite the knowledge of real happiness
with the practice of virtue, you will understand it. It is one of our
maxims, that heaven gives wisdom to man in such portions as his
situation requires it; and no doubt it is the same with the people of
your earth."
I did not, after this, push my inquiries farther; but remarked, aside to
the Brahmin,--"I would give a good deal to know this secret, provided it
would suit our planet."
"It is already known there," replied he, "and has been long practised by
many in the east: but in the present state of society with you, it might
do more harm than good to be made public, by removing one of the checks
of licentiousness, where women are so unrestrained as they are
Changing now the subject, I ventured to inquire how they employed their
leisure hours, and whether many did not experience here a wearisome
sameness, and a feeling of confinement and restraint.
"It is true," said the magistrate, "men require variety; but I would not
have you suppose he cannot find it here. He may cultivate his lands,
improve his mind, educate his children; these are his serious
occupations, affording every day some employment that is, at once, new
and interesting: and, by way of relaxation, he has music, painting, and
sculpture; sailing, riding, conversation, storytelling, and reading the
news of what is passing, both in the valley and out of it."
I asked if they had newspapers. He answered in the affirmative; and
added, that they contained minute details of the births, deaths,
marriages, accidents, state of the weather and crops, arbitrations,
public festivals, inventions, original poetry, and prose compositions.
In addition to which, they had about fifty of their most promising young
men travelling abroad, who made observations on all that was remarkable
in the countries they passed through, which they regularly transmitted
once a month to Okalbia. I inquired if they travelled at the public
expense or their own?
"They always pursue some profession or trade, by the profits of which
they support themselves. We have nothing but intellect and ingenuity to
export; for though our country produces every thing, there is no
commodity that we can so well spare. Their talents find them employment
every where; and the necessity they are under of a laborious exertion of
these talents, and of submitting to a great deal from those whose
customs and manners are not to their taste, and whom they feel inferior
to themselves, is a considerable check to the desire to go abroad, so
much so, that we hold out the farther inducement of political
distinction when they return."
"What, then! you have ambition among you?"
"Certainly; our institutions have only tempered it, and not vainly
endeavoured to extinguish it; and we find it employment in this way: Of
our youthful travellers, those who are most diligent in their vocation;
who give the most useful information, and communicate it in the happiest
manner, are made magistrates, on their return, and sometimes have
statues decreed to them. Besides, the name which their conduct or
talents procure them abroad, is echoed back to the valley, long before
their return, and has much influence in the general estimate of their
"But have you not many more competitors, than you have public offices?"
"There are, without doubt, many who desire office; but to manifest their
wish, would be one of the surest means of defeating it. We require
modesty, (at least in appearance,) moderation and disinterestedness, and
of course, the less pains a candidate takes to show himself off,
the better."
"But have they no friends, who can at once render them this service, and
relieve them from the odium of it?"
"There is, indeed, somewhat of this; but you must remember, that the
highest of our magistrates has comparatively little power. He has no
army, no treasury, no patronage; he merely executes the laws. But, as a
farther check on the immoderate zeal of friends, the expense of doing
this, as well as of maintaining him in office, is defrayed by those who
vote for him. There seems, at first view, but little justice in this
regulation; but we think, that as every one cannot have his way, those
who carry their point, and have the power, should also bear the burden:
besides, in this way the voices of the most generous and disinterested
prevail. We have," he added, "found this the most difficult part of our
government. We once thought that the very lively interest excited in the
electioneering contests, particularly for that of Gompoo, or chief
magistrate, was to be ascribed to the power he possessed; and we
resorted to various expedients to lessen it--such as dividing it among a
greater number--requiring a quick rotation of office--abridging the
powers themselves: but we discovered, that however small the power, the
distinction it gave to those who possessed it, was always an object of
lively interest with the ambitious, and indeed with the public in
general. We have, therefore, enlarged the power, and the term of holding
it, and make him who would attain it, purchase it by previous exertion
and self-denial: and we farther compel those who favour him, to lose as
well as gain. We array the love of money against the love of power; or
rather, one love of power to another. Moreover, as it is only by the
civic virtues that our citizens recommend themselves to popular favour,
there is nothing of that enthusiasm which military success excites among
the natives."
Our Washington then presented himself to my mind, and for a moment I
began to question his claim to the unexampled honours bestowed on him by
his countrymen, until I recollected that he was as distinguished by his
respect for the laws, and his sound views of national policy, as for his
military services.
I then inquired into the occupations and condition of those who were
without land; and was told that they were either cultivators of the
soil, or practised some liberal or mechanical art; and, partly owing to
the education they receive, and partly from the active competition that
exists among them, they are skilful, diligent, and honest. Now and then
there are some exceptions, according to the proverb, that _in the best
field of grain there will be some bad ears_. The land-owners sometimes
cultivate the soil with their own hands--sometimes with hired
labourers--and sometimes they rent them for about a third of their
produce. The smallest proprietors commonly adopt the first course; the
middling, the second; and the great landholders the third."
"But I thought," said I, "that all the land in the valley was of equal
"So it is; but what has that to do with rent?"
"Sir," said I, "our ablest writers on this subject have lately
discovered that there can be no rent where there is not a gradation of
soils, such as exists in every country of the earth."
"I see not," said he, "what could have led them into that error. It is
true, if there was inferior land, there would be a difference of rent in
proportion to the difference of fertility; and if it was so poor as
merely to repay the expense of cultivation, it would yield no rent at
all. But surely, if one man makes as much as several consume, (and this
he can easily do with us,) he will be able to get much of their labour
in exchange for this surplus, which is so indispensable to them, and to
get more and more, until the greatest number has come into existence
which such surplus can support. What they thus give, if the proprietor
retains the land himself, you may regard as the extraordinary profits of
agricultural labour, or rent, if paid to any one to whom he transfers
this benefit. This is precisely our present situation."
There was no denying this statement of facts: but I could not help
exclaiming,--"Surely there is nothing certain in the universe; or
rather, truth is one thing in the moon, and another thing on the earth."
CHAPTER XIV.
_Farther account of Okalbia--The Field of Roses--Curious superstition
concerning that flower--The pleasures of smell traced to association, by
a Glonglim philosopher._
Though I felt some reluctance to abuse the patience of this polite and
intelligent magistrate, I could not help making some inquiry about the
jurisprudence of his country, and first, what was their system of
"We have no capital punishment," says he; "for, from all we learn, it is
not more efficacious in preventing crime, than other punishments which
are milder; and we prefer making the example to offenders a lasting one.
But we endeavour to prevent offences, not so much by punishment as by
education; and the few crimes committed among us, bring certain censure
on those who have the early instruction of the criminal. Murders are
very rare with us; thefts and robbery perhaps still more so. Our
ordinary disputes about property, are commonly settled by arbitration,
where, as well as in court, each party is permitted to state his case,
to examine what witnesses and to ask what questions he pleases."
"You do not," said I, "examine witnesses who are interested?"
"Why not? The judges even examine the parties themselves."
I then told him that the smallest direct interest in the issue of the
controversy, disqualified a witness with us, from the strong bias it
created to misrepresent facts, and even to misconceive them.
He replied with a smile,--"It seems to me that your extreme fear of
hearing falsehood, must often prevent you from ascertaining the truth.
It is true, that wherever the interest of a witness is involved, it has
an immediate tendency to make him misstate facts: but so would personal
ill-will--so would his sympathies--so would any strong feeling. What,
then, is your course in these cases?"
I told him that these objections applied to the credibility, and not to
the competency, of witnesses, which distinctions of the lawyers I
endeavoured to explain to him.
"Then I think you often exclude a witness who is under a small bias, and
admit another who is under a great one. You allow a man to give
testimony in a case in which the fortune or character of his father,
brother or child is involved, but reject him in a case in which he is
not interested to the amount of a greater sum than he would give to the
first beggar he met. Is it not so?"
"That, indeed, may be the operation of the rule. But cases of such
flagrant inconsistency are very rare; and this rule, like every other,
must be tried by its general, and not its partial effects."
"True; but your rule must at least be a troublesome one, and give rise
to a great many nice distinctions, that make it difficult in the
application. All laws are sufficiently exposed to this evil, and we do
not wish unnecessarily to increase it. We have, therefore, adopted the
plan of allowing either party to ask any question of any witness he
pleases, and leave it to the judges to estimate the circumstances which
may bias the witness. We, in short, pursue the same course in
investigating facts in court that we pursue out of it, when no one forms
a judgment until he has first heard what the parties and their friends
say on the subject."
On my return home, I repeated this conversation to a lawyer of my
acquaintance, who told me that such a rule of evidence might do for the
people in the moon, but it certainly would not suit us. I leave the
matter to be settled by more competent heads than mine, and return to my
I farther learnt from this intelligent magistrate, that the territory of
the Happy Valley, or Okalbia, is divided into forty-two counties, and
each county into ten districts. In each district are three magistrates,
who are appointed by the legislature. Causes of small value are decided
by the magistrates of the district; those of greater importance, by the
county courts, composed of all the magistrates of the ten districts; a
few by the court of last court, consisting of seven judges. The
legislature consists of two houses, of which the members are elected
annually, three from each county for one branch, and one member for the
other. No qualification of property is required either to vote, or to be
eligible to either house of the legislature, as they believe that the
natural influence of property is sufficient, without adding to that
influence by law; and that the moral effects of education among them,
together with a few provisions in their constitution, are quite
sufficient to guard against any improper combination of those who have
small property. Besides, there are no odious privileges exclusively
possessed by particular classes of men, to excite the envy or resentment
of the other classes, and induce them to act in concert.
"Have you, then, no parties?" said I.
"Oh yes; we are not without our political parties and disputes; and we
sometimes wrangle about very small matters--such as, what amount of
labour shall be bestowed on the public roads--the best modes of
conducting our schools and colleges--the comparative merits of the
candidates for office, or the policy of some proposed change in the
laws. Man is made, you know, of very combustible materials, and may be
kindled as effectually by a spark falling at the right time, in the
right place, as when within reach of a great conflagration."
The women appeared here to be under few restraints. I understood that
they were taught, like our sex, all the speculative branches of
knowledge, but that they were more especially instructed, by professed
teachers, in cookery, needlework, and every sort of domestic economy; as
were the young men in the occupations which require strength and
exposure. They have a variety of public schools, and some houses for
public festivals, but no public hospitals or almshouses whatever, the
few cases of private distress or misfortune being left for relief to the
merits of the sufferer and the compassion of individuals.
After passing a week among this singular and fortunate people, whom we
every where found equally amiable, intelligent, and hospitable, we
returned to Alamatua in the same way that we had come; that is, in a
light car, drawn by four large mastiffs. When we had recovered from the
fatigues of the journey, and I had carefully committed to paper all that
I had learnt of the Okalbians, the Brahmin and I took a walk towards a
part of the suburbs which I had not yet seen, and where some of the
literati of his acquaintance resided. The sun appeared to be not more
than two hours high (though, in fact, it was more than fifty); the sky
was without a cloud, and a fresh breeze from the mountains contributed
to make it like one of the most delightful summer evenings of a
temperate climate.
We carelessly rambled along, enjoying the balmy freshness of the air,
the picturesque scenery of the neighbouring mountains, the beauty or
fragrance of some vegetable productions, and the oddity of others,
until, having passed through a thick wood, we came to an extensive
plain, which was covered with rose-bushes. The queen of flowers here
appeared under every variety of colour, size, and species--red, white,
black, and yellow--budding, full-blown, and half-blown;--some with
thorns, and some without; some odourless, and others exhaling their
unrivalled perfume with an overpowering sweetness. I was about to pluck
one of these flowers, (of which I have always been particularly fond,)
when a man, whom I had not previously observed, stepping up behind me,
seized my arm, and asked me if I knew what I was doing. He told us that
the roses of this field, which is called Gulgal, were deemed sacred, and
were not allowed to be gathered without the special permission of the
priests, under a heavy penalty; and that he was one of those whose duty
it was to prevent the violation of the law, and to bring the offenders
to punishment.
The Brahmin, having diverted himself a while with my surprise and
disappointment, then informed me, that the rose had ever been regarded
in Morosofia, as the symbol of female purity, delicacy, and sweetness;
which notion had grown into a popular superstition, that whenever a
marriage is consummated on the earth, one of these flowers springs up in
the moon; and that in colour, shape, size, or other property, it is a
fit type of the individual whose change of state is thus commemorated.
"What, father," said I, "could have given rise to so strange an
"I know not," said he; "but I have heard it thus explained:--That the
roses generally spring up, as well as blow, in the course of their long
nights, during which the earth's resplendent disc is the most
conspicuous object in the heavens; which two facts stand, in the opinion
of the multitude, in the relation of cause and effect. Attributing,
then, the symbolical character of the rose to its tutelary planet, they
regard the earth in the same light as the ancients did the chaste Diana,
and believe that she plants this her favourite flower in the moon,
whenever she loses a votary. The priesthood encourage this superstition,
as they have grafted on it some mystical rites, which add to their power
and profit, and which one of our Pundits thinks has a great resemblance
to the Eleusinian mysteries. There is, however, my dear Atterley, little
satisfaction in tracing the origin of vulgar superstitions. They grow up
like a strange plant in a forest, without our being able to tell how the
seed found its way there. It is generally believed in the east, that the
moon, at particular periods of her revolution round the earth, has a
great influence in causing rain; though every one must see, that,
notwithstanding such influence must be the same in every part of the
earth, it is invariably fair in one place, at the very time that it is
rainy in another. Nay, we may safely aver that there is not a day, nor
an hour, in the year, in which it is not dry and rainy, cloudy and
clear, windy and calm, in hundreds of places at once."
I told the Brahmin that the same opinion prevailed in my country. That
the vulgar also believe the moon, according to its age, to have
particular effects on the flesh of slaughtered animals; and that all
sailors distinguish between a wet and a dry day, according to the
position of the crescent.
We then inquired of the warden of this flowery plain, if he had ever
remarked any difference in the number of roses which sprung up in a
given period of time. He said he thought they were more numerous about
five and twenty or thirty years ago, than he had ever seen them before
or since. With that exception, he said, the number appeared to be nearly
the same every year.
The Brahmin happening to be in one of those pleasant moods which are
occasionally experienced by amiable tempers, even when under the
pressure of sorrow and age, now amused himself in pointing out the
flowers which probably represented the different nations of the earth;
and when he saw any one remarkably small, pale and delicate, he insisted
that it belonged to his own country; which point, however, I, not
yielding to him in nationality, warmly contested. I would here remark,
that as the rose is called _gul_ in the Persian language and the ancient
Sanscrit, the name of this field furnished another argument in support
of the Brahmin's hypothesis of the origin of the moon.
While thus oblivious of the past, and reckless of the future, we were
enjoying the present moment in this _badinage_, and I was extolling the
odour of the rose, as beyond every other grateful to the olfactory
nerves of man, a lively, flippant little personage came up, and accosted
the Brahmin with the familiarity of an acquaintance. My companion
immediately introduced me to him, and at the same time gave me to
understand that this was the great Reffei, one of the most distinguished
literati of the country. Although his eye was remarkably piercing, I
perceived in it somewhat of the wildness which always characterizes a
Glonglim. He was evidently impatient for discussion; and having informed
himself of the subject of my rhapsody when he joined our party, he
vehemently exclaimed,--"I am surprised at your falling in with that
popular prejudice; while it is easy to show, that but for some feeling
of love, or pity, or admiration, with which the rose happens to be
associated--some past pleasure which it brings to your recollection, or
some future pleasure which it suggests,--any other flower would be
equally sweet. You see the rose a very beautiful flower; and you have
been accustomed, whenever you saw and felt its beauty, to perceive, at
the same time, a certain odour. The beauty and the odour thus become
associated in your mind, and the smell brings along with it the pleasure
you feel in looking at it. But the chief part of the gratification you
receive from smelling a rose, arises from some past scene of delight of
which it reminds you; as, of the days of your innocence and childhood,
when you ran about the garden--or when you were decorated with
nosegays--or danced round a may-pole, (this is rather a free
translation)--or presented a bunch of flowers to some little favourite."
He said a great deal more on the subject, and spoke so prettily and
ingeniously, as almost to make a convert of me; when, on bringing my
nose once more to the flower, I found in it the same exquisite
fragrance as ever.
"Why do we like," he continued, "the smell of a beef-steak, or of a cup
of tea, except for the pleasure we receive from their taste?"
I mentioned, as an exception to his theory, the codfish, which is
esteemed a very savoury dish by my countrymen, but which no one ever
regarded as very fragrant. But he repelled my objection by an ingenious
hypothesis, grounded on certain physiological facts, to show that this
supposed disagreeable smell was also the effect of some early
associations. I then mentioned to him assafoetida, the odour of which I
believed was universally odious. He immediately replied, that we are
always accustomed to associate with this drug, the disagreeable ideas of
sickness, female weakness, hysterics, affectation, &c. Unable to
continue the argument, I felt myself vanquished. I again stooped to the
flower, and as I inhaled its perfume, "Surely," said I to myself, "this
rose would be sweet if I were to lose my memory altogether:" but
recollecting the great Reffei's argument, I mentally added thanks to
divine philosophy, which always corrects our natural prejudices.
_Atterley goes to the great monthly fair--Its various exhibitions;
difficulties--Preparations to leave the Moon--Curiosities procured by
Atterley--Regress to the Earth._
The philosopher, not waiting to enjoy the triumph of victory, abruptly
took his leave, and we, refreshed and delighted with our walk, returned
home. Our landlord informed us that we had arrived in good time to
attend the great fair, or market, which regularly takes place a little
before the sun sinks below the horizon. Having taken a short repast,
while the Brahmin called on one of his acquaintance, I sallied forth
into the street, and soon found myself in the bustling throng, who were
hastening to this great resort of the busy, the idle, the knavish, and
the gay; some in pursuit of gain, and some of pleasure; whilst others
again, without any settled purpose, were carried along by the vague
desire of meeting with somewhat to relieve them from the pain
of idleness.
The fair was held in a large square piece of ground in one of the
suburbs, set apart for that purpose; and on each of its four sides a
long low building, or rather roof, supported on massy white columns,
extended about six hundred yards in length, and was thirty yards wide.
Immediately within this arcade were arranged the finer kinds of
merchandise, fabrics of cotton or silk, and articles of jewelry,
cutlery, porcelain, and glass. On the outside were provisions of every
kind, vegetable and animal, flesh, fish, and fowl, as well as the
coarser manufactures. At no great distance from this hollow square,
(which was used exclusively for buying and selling,) might be seen an
infinite variety of persons, collected in groupes, all engaged in some
occupation or amusement, according to their several tastes and humours.
Here a party of young men were jumping, or wrestling, or shooting at a
mark with cross-bows. There, girls and boys were dancing to the sound of
a pipe, or still smaller children were playing at marbles, or amusing
themselves with the toys they had just purchased. Not far from these, a
quack from one scaffold was descanting on the virtues of his medicines,
whilst a preacher from another was holding forth to the graver part of
the crowd, the joys and terrors of another life; and yet farther on, a
motley groupe were listening to a blind beggar, who was singing to the
music of a sort of rude guitar. Here and there curtains, hanging from a
slight frame of wood-work, veiled a small square from the eyes of all,
except those who paid a nail for admittance. Some of these curtained
boxes contained jugglers--some tumblers--some libidinous pictures--and
others again, strange birds, beasts, and other animals. I observed that
none of the exhibitions were as much frequented as these booths; and I
was told that the corporation of the city derived from them a
considerable revenue. Amidst such an infinite variety of objects, my
attention was so distracted that it could not settle down upon any one,
and I strolled about without object or design.
When I had become more familiar with this mixed multitude of sights and
sounds, I endeavoured to take a closer survey of some of the objects
composing the medley. The first thing which attracted my particular
notice, was a profusion of oaths and imprecations, which proceeded from
one of the curtained booths. I paid the admittance money to a
well-dressed man, of smooth, easy manners, and entered. I found there
several parties paired off, and engaged at different games; but, like
the rest of the bystanders, I felt myself most strongly attracted
towards the two who were betting highest. One of these was an elderly
man, of a tall stature, in a plain dress; the other was a short man, in
very costly apparel, and some years younger. For a long time the scales
of victory seemed balanced between them; but at length the tall man, who
had great self-possession, and who played with consummate skill, won the
game: soon after which he rose up, and making a graceful, respectful bow
to the rest of the company, he retired. Not being able to catch his eye,
so intent was he on his game, I felt some curiosity to know whether he
was a Glonglim; but could not ascertain the fact, as some of whom the
Brahmin inquired, said that he was, while others maintained that he was
not. His adversary, however, evidently belonged to that class, and, when
flushed with hope, reminded me of the feather-hunter. At first he
endeavoured, by forced smiles, to conceal his rage and disappointment.
He then bit his lips with vexation, and challenged one of the bystanders
to play for a smaller stake. Fortune seemed about to smile on him on
this occasion; but one of the company, who appeared to be very much
respected by the rest, detected the little man in some false play, and
publicly exposing him, broke up the game. I understood afterwards, that
before the fair was over, the gamester avenged himself for this injury
in the other's blood: that he then returned to the fair, secretly
entered another gambling booth, where he betted so rashly, that he soon
lost not only his patrimonial estate, which was large, but his acquired
wealth, which was much larger. Having lost all his property, and even
his clothes, he then staked and lost his liberty, and even his teeth,
which were very good; and he will thus be compelled to live on soups for
the rest of his life.
I saw several other matches played, in which great sums were betted,
great skill was exhibited, and occasionally much unfairness practised.
There was one man in the crowd, whose extraordinary good fortune I could
not but admire. He went about from table to table, sometimes betting
high and sometimes low, but was generally successful, until he had won
as much as he could fairly carry; after which he went out, and amused
himself at a puppet-show, and the stall of a cake-woman, with whom he
had formerly quarrelled, but who now, when she learnt his success, was
obsequiously civil to him. I did not see that he manifested superior
skill, but still he was successful; and in his last great stake with a
young, but not inexpert player, he won the game, though the chances were
three to two against him. "Surely," thought I, "fortune rules the
destinies of man in the moon as well as on the earth."
On looking now at my watch, I found that I had been longer a witness of
these trials of skill and fortune, than I had been aware; and on leaving
the booth, perceived that the sun had sunk behind the western mountains,
and that the earth began to beam with her nocturnal splendour. Those who
had come from a distance, were already hurrying back with their carts;
and here and there light cars, of various forms and colours, and drawn
by dogs, were conveying those away whose object had been amusement. Some
were snatching a hasty meal; and a few, by their quiet air, seemed as if
they meant to continue on the spot as long as the regulations permit,
after sunset, which is about twenty of our hours. I found the Brahmin at
home when I returned, and I felt as much pleased to see him, as if we
had not seen each other for many months.
As the shades of night approached, my anxiety to return to my native
planet increased, and I urged my friend to lose no time in preparing for
our departure. We were soon afterwards informed that a man high in
office, and renowned for his political sagacity, proposed to detain us,
on the ground that when such voyages as ours were shown to be
practicable, the inhabitants of the earth, who were so much more
numerous than those of the moon, might invade the latter with a large
army, for the purposes of rapine and conquest. We farther learnt that
this opinion, which was at first cautiously circulated in the higher
circles, had become more generally known, and was producing a strong
sensation among the people.
The Brahmin immediately presented himself before the council of state,
to remove the impression. He pointed out to them the insurmountable
obstacles to such an invasion, physical and moral. He urged to them that
the nations of the earth felt so much jealousy and ill-will towards one
another, that they never cordially co-operated in any enterprise for
their common interest or glory; and that if any one nation were to send
an army into the moon, such a scheme of ambition would afford at once a
temptation and pretext for its neighbours to invade it. That his country
had not the ability, and mine had not the inclination, to attack the
liberties of any other: so far from that, he informed them, on my
authority, that we were in the habit of sending teachers abroad, to
instruct other nations in the duties of religion, morals, and humanity.
He entered into some calculations, to show that the project was also
impracticable on account of its expense; and, lastly, insisted that if
all other difficulties were removed, we should find it impossible to
convince the people of the earth that we had really been to the moon. I
have since found that the Brahmin was more right in his last argument,
than I then believed possible.
I am not able to say what effect these representations of the Brahmin
would have produced, if they had not been taken up and enforced by the
political rival of him who had first opposed our departure; but by his
powerful aid they finally triumphed, and we obtained a formal permission
to leave the moon whenever, we thought proper.
As we meant to return in the same machine in which we came, we were not
long in preparing for our voyage. We proposed to set out about the
middle of the night; and we passed the chief part of the interval in
making visits of ceremony, and in calling on those who had shown us
civility. I endeavoured also, to collect such articles as I thought
would be most curious and rare in my own country, and most likely to
produce conviction with those who might be disposed to question the fact
of my voyage. I was obliged, however, to limit myself to such things as
were neither bulky nor weighty, the Brahmin thinking that after we had
taken in our instruments and the necessary provisions, we could not
safely take more than twenty or thirty pounds in addition.
Some of my lunar curiosities, which I thought would be most new and
interesting to my countrymen, have proved to be very familiar to our men
of science. This has been most remarkably the case with my mineral
specimens. Of the leaves and flowers of above seventy plants, which I
brought, more than forty are found on the earth, and several of these
grow in my native State. With the insects I have been more successful;
but some of these, as well as of the plants, I am assured, are found on
the coasts of the Pacific, or in the islands of that ocean; which fact,
by the way, gives a farther support to the Brahmin's hypothesis.
Besides the productions of nature that I have mentioned, I procured some
specimens of their cloth, a few light toys, a lady's turban decorated
with cantharides, a pair of slippers with heavy metallic soles, which
are used there for walking in a strong wind, and by the dancing girls to
prevent their jumping too high. As this metal, which gravitates to the
moon, is repelled from the earth, these slippers assist the wearer here
in springing from the ground as much as they impeded it in the moon, and
therefore I have lent them to Madame ----, of the New-York Theatre, who
is thus enabled to astonish and delight the spectators with her
wonderful lightness and agility.
But there is nothing that I have brought which I prize so highly as a
few of their manuscripts. The Lunarians write as we do, from left to
right; but when their words consist of more than one syllable, all the
subsequent syllables are put over the first, so that what we call _long
words_, they call _high_ ones: which mode of writing makes them more
striking to the eye. This peculiarity has, perhaps, had some effect in
giving their writers a magniloquence of style, something like that which
so laudably characterises our Fourth of July Orations and Funeral
Panegyrics: that composition being thought the finest in which the words
stand highest. Another advantage of this mode of writing is, that they
can crowd more in a small page, so that a long discourse, if it is also
very eloquent, may be compressed in a single page. I have left some of
the manuscripts with the publisher of this work, for the gratification
of the public curiosity.
Having taken either respectful or affectionate leave of all, and got
every thing in readiness, on the 20th day of August, 1825, about
midnight we again entered our copper balloon, if I may so speak, and
rose from the moon with the same velocity as we had formerly ascended
from the earth. Though I experienced somewhat of my former sensations,
when I again found myself off the solid ground, yet I soon regained my
self-possession; and, animated with the hope of seeing my children and
country, with the past success of our voyage, and (I will not disguise
it,) with the distinction which I expected it would procure me from my
countrymen, I was in excellent spirits. The Brahmin exhibited the same
mild equanimity as ever.
As the course of our ascent was now less inclined from the vertical line
than before, in proportion as the motion of the moon on its axis, is
slower than that of the earth, we for some hours could see the former,
only by the light reflected from our planet; and although the objects on
the moon's surface were less distinct, they appeared yet more beautiful
in my eyes than they had done in the glare of day. The difference,
however, may be in part attributed to my being now in a better frame of
mind for enjoying the scene. As our distance increased, the face of the
moon became of a lighter and more uniform tint, until at length it
looked like one vast lake of melted silver, with here and there small
pieces of greyish dross floating on it. After contemplating this lovely
and magnificent spectacle for about an hour, I turned to the Brahmin,
and reminded him of his former promise to give me the history of his
early life. He replied, "as you have seen all that you can see of the
moon, and the objects of the earth are yet too indistinct to excite much
interest, I am not likely to have a more suitable occasion;" and after a
short pause, he began in the way that the reader may see in the
next chapter.
CHAPTER XVI.
_The Brahmin gives Atterley a history of his life._
"I have already informed you that I was born at Benares, which, as you
know, is a populous city on the banks of the Ganges, and the most
celebrated seat of Hindoo science and literature. My father was a priest
of Vishun, of a high rank; and as his functions required him to live
within the precincts of the Pagoda, he was liberally maintained out of
its ample revenues. I was his only son, and according to the usage of
our country, was destined to the same holy calling. At an early age I
was put under a private tutor, and then sent to one of the schools
attached to the Pagoda. Upon what little matters, my dear Atterley, do
our fortunes, and even our characters depend! Had I been sent to another
school, the whole destiny of my life would have been changed.
"I was in my twelfth year when I entered this school, which contained
from thirty to forty boys about my age. The cleverest of these was Balty
Mahu, who, like myself, belonged to the higher order of Brahmins. He
took the lead, not only in the exercises within the school, but in all
the sports and pastimes out of it. Nature, however, had not been equally
kind to him in temper and disposition. He was restless, ambitious,
proud, vindictive, and implacable. He could occasionally, too, practise
cunning and deception; although anger and violence were more congenial
to his nature.
"It soon appeared that I was to be his rival in the school, and from
that moment he cordially hated me. The praises that had previously been
lavished on him by the teacher, were now shared by me, and most of the
boys secretly rejoiced to see his proud spirit humbled. In our sports I
was also his successful competitor. Nature had given me an excellent
constitution; and though I had not a very robust frame, I could boast of
great agility and flexibility of limbs. When the sun had descended
behind the mountain which screened our play-ground from his evening
rays, we commonly amused ourselves in foot-races, and other pastimes, of
which running was an important part. In this exercise I had no equal. I
could also jump higher and farther than any boy in school, except one,
and that one was not Balty Mahu.
"His ill-will was not slow in manifesting itself. He took every occasion
of contradicting me: sometimes indulged in sly sneers at my expense, and
now and then even attempted to turn me into open ridicule. I always
replied with spirit; but I found such contests as disagreeable to me as
they were new. One evening, under the pretext that I had purposely
jostled him in running, he struck me, and we fought. Although he was
probably stronger than I, as he was heavier and older, my suppleness
enabled me to get the better of him in a wrestle; and I got him under
me, when the master, attracted by the shouts of the boys, made his
appearance. He separated and reproved us, and sent us off in disgrace to
our respective rooms. From that time Balty Mahu treated me with more
outward respect than before; but I believe he hated me with more rancour
"I had now become the general favourite of the boys. The school was,
indeed, divided into parties, but mine was much the strongest; and of
those who adhered to my rival, very few seemed cordially to dislike me.
Though this state of things was very annoying to me, it proved
advantageous in one respect, as it made me more diligent in my studies,
lest I should furnish my rival with an occasion of triumphing ever me;
so that I owe a part of what I gained to the enmity of my rival.
"When I had reached my sixteenth year, I was removed to the college in
Benares. This is commonly a very interesting event in the life of a
youth, as it reminds him that he is drawing near the period of manhood,
and leaves him more a master of his actions. But on the present occasion
my pleasure had two drawbacks: I could not but feel the contrast between
the warm and confiding attachment of my late school-fellows, and the
coldness and reserve of my new companions. Yet the most disagreeable
circumstance was, that I here met with my former rival, Balty Mahu. He
had entered the college about a month before me, and, aware of my
intention, had spared no pains, as I afterwards learnt, of prejudicing
the students against me.
"After a few months, however, our relative standing was the same here as
it had been at the school. I gradually overcame the prejudices of the
students, and gained their good will, while he was always giving offence
by his meddlesome disposition and overbearing manners: yet his talents
and force of character always procured him a few followers, whom he
managed as he pleased. Of their aid he made use to gratify his
malevolence towards me, for this feeling had grown with his growth, and
now seemed to be the master passion of his breast. I was able to trace
the result of their machinations every where. Sometimes it was intimated
to the teachers that I had been assisted in my exercises; at others,
that I had infringed the college rules, or had put false reports in
circulation, or had neglected some of the many ceremonies required by
our religion. This was their favourite, as well as the most efficient
mode of attack, as in these respects there was some colour for their
"In my early childhood I had been spared, by the tenderest of mothers,
from many of the ablutions practised by the Hindoos, under the belief
that they would be injurious to my constitution, which, though healthy,
had never been robust. A foundation was thus laid with me for habitual
remissness in these ceremonies; and after I grew up, I persuaded myself
that they were of less importance than they were deemed by my
countrymen. My chief delight had ever been in books; and although, when
engaged in active pursuits, I took a lively interest in them for the
time, I always returned to my first love with unabated ardour.
"Some of these accusations, being utterly groundless, I was able to
disprove; but the few that were true I endeavoured to excuse, and thus,
by their admission, credit was procured for their most unfounded
calumny. These petty transgressions, (for I cannot even now regard them
as sins,) industriously reported and artfully exaggerated, did me
lasting injury with all the most pious of our caste. The charitable
portion, indeed, were merely estranged from me; but the more bigoted
part began to regard me with aversion and horror.
"In one of our vacations, my father allowed me to visit a brother of
his, who lived in the country, about thirty miles from Benares. My uncle
had two sons, of nearly my own age, and several daughters. With the
former I rode, played chess, and engaged in such sports as are not
forbidden to my profession; but my female cousins I seldom saw, as they
rarely left their Zenana, into which I was not permitted to enter. I was
of an age to be desirous of becoming better acquainted with my female
cousins, especially after I learnt that they then had as guests, a lady
and her daughter, who had come to pass some weeks here during the
absence of her husband, then employed in some public mission to
Calcutta. But it was only now and then that I had been able to catch a
transient and distant view of these females, during the first week after
my arrival; and the little I saw, served but to increase my curiosity.
Chance, however, soon afforded me the means of gratifying it.
"An important festival in our calendar was now approaching, and
preparations were made to celebrate it in various modes, and, amongst
others, by a fight between a _royal_ tiger and an elephant. For several
days all was bustle and confusion in my uncle's family. Howdahs, newly
gilded and painted, were provided for the elephants--new caparisons for
the horses--new liveries for the attendants--cloth and silk, of the
richest dyes and hues, united with a profusion of gold and silver
ornaments, to dazzle the eye with their varied splendour. This was one
of those exhibitions, which those who were intended for the priesthood,
were prohibited from attending. I confess, when I witnessed these showy
and costly preparations, and pictured to myself the magnificent scene
for which they were intended--those formidable animals contending in
mortal conflict--the thousands of gaily dressed spectators, gazing in
breathless anxiety,--I repined at my lot, and regretted I had not been
born in a condition which, though of less dignity, would not have cut me
off from some of the most exquisite pleasures of life. At length the
important day arrived, and I found my mortification so acute, that I
determined to withdraw myself, as much as I could, from a scene that I
could not witness without pain. Among my acquirements at college, was a
knowledge of your language; and I had now begun to take the liveliest
interest in its beautiful fictions, which I greatly preferred to ours,
as being more true to nature, and as exhibiting women in characters at
once lovely, pure, and elevated. I was then reading "The Vicar of
Wakefield," and had reached the middle of that interesting tale, on the
morning of the festival, when my tranquillity was interrupted in the way
I have mentioned. Accordingly, taking my book and English dictionary, I
retired to a small summer-house at the foot of the garden, and
determined to remain there till the cavalcade had set out. It was some
time before I could fix my attention on what I read; but after a while,
the interest the book had previously excited returned, and I became at
length so engrossed by the incidents of the story, as to forget the
festival, the procession, the tiger, and the elephant, as much as if
they had never before entered my head.
"After some hours passed in this intellectual banquet, I waked from my
day dream, and I thought again of the spectacle with a feeling bordering
on indifference. I walked towards the house, where all appeared to be
still and silent as a desert. I entered it, and of the forty or fifty
menials belonging to it, not one was to be seen. Those who were not in
attendance on the family, had sought some respite from their ordinary
labours. The Zenana then caught my eye, and I felt irresistibly impelled
to enter it. I used great caution, however, looking around me in every
direction as I proceeded there. I found the same silence and desertion
as in the other parts of the mansion. I passed through a sitting-room
into a long gallery, with which the bed-chambers of the ladies
communicated. The doors were all open, and the whole interior of their
apartments exhibited so strange a medley of unseemly objects, and such
utter disorder, as materially to affect my opinion of female delicacy,
and to damp my desire of becoming acquainted with my cousins. I passed
on, with a feeling of disappointment bordering on disgust, when I came
to a room which went far to redeem the character of the sex in my
estimation. Here all was neatness and propriety: every thing was either
in place, or only enough out of it to indicate the recent occupation of
the room, or to show the taste or talent of the occupant; such as a book
left half open at one end of an ottoman, and a piece of embroidery at
the other. The flowers too, which decorated the room, showed by their
freshness that they had not long left their beds. I could not help
stopping to survey a scene which accorded so well with my previous
notions of female refinement. At the end of the gallery was a veranda,
facing the east, and surrounded by lattices. In this were a number of
flower-pots, arranged with the same air of neatness and taste as had
been conspicuous in the chamber. I entered it, for the purpose of
looking into the flower-garden, with which it communicated; and on
approaching the lattice, I saw, seated in an alcove not far from the
veranda, a face and form that struck me as being the most beautiful I
had ever beheld. I remained for some time riveted to the spot, but soon
found myself irresistibly impelled to get a nearer view of the lovely
object. With as light a step and as little noise as possible, I
descended into the garden from the veranda, and approaching the alcove
on the side where its foliage was thickest, I found that the beauty, of
which I had before thought so highly, did not appear less on a closer
survey. The vision on which I gazed in silent rapture, a maiden, who,
though she had apparently attained her full stature, did not seem to be
more than thirteen or fourteen years of age. Her eyes had the brightness
and fulness of the antelope's, but, owing to their long silken lashes,
were yet more expressive of softness than of spirit; and at this time
they evinced more than usual languor. She was in a rich undress, and was
apparently an invalid. Her long raven locks hung with careless grace,
partly behind, and partly over, a neck that might have served as a model
for the sculptor. She was looking wistfully on a bunch of flowers in her
hand, which I felt pleasure in recognising to be the same I had seen on
the piece of embroidery. I feared to advance, lest I should give
offence; but I felt also unable to retreat. I fancied I saw one of those
lovely and dignified females which the writers in your language describe
so well. But a sudden movement of the fair damsel to get up, bringing me
full in her view, she started back with alarm and surprise, and in a
moment afterwards her cheek, which had been before pale, almost to
European whiteness, was deeply suffused. I respectfully approached her,
and inquired if she was one of my cousins. She answered in the negative;
said she was on a visit to the family, to whom she was related: added
that she had not expected to see any one in the garden; but this was
said as if she meant rather to apologise for her undress, than to
reproach me for my intrusion. These remarks were uttered with a
propriety and sweetness that won upon me yet more than her beauty. I
then, in return, assured her that I had not supposed any of the family
had remained at home, when I strolled to this part of the mansion. I
begged she would not regard me with the formality of a stranger; and
insisted that, as she was the cousin of my relation, she was also mine.
To this ingenious argument she answered with so much good sense, and at
the same time, so much gentleness and artlessness, that I thought I
could have listened to her for ever. While I spoke, she continued to
move on. I entreated to know if she was satisfied with my apology;
repeated that I had not meant to intrude on her privacy. She mildly
replied that she was. I then asked permission to call her cousin. She
said she should not object, if it would gave me pleasure. It was, my
dear Atterley, her ineffable sweetness of disposition, and of manners so
entirely free from pride, coquetry, or affectation, in which this lovely
creature excelled all other women, yet more than in beauty and grace. I
then inquired when I should again see my lovely cousin. She replied, "I
walk in the great garden sometimes with my companions, when their
brothers are away; but the girls will not think it proper to walk when
you are there." Perceiving that I looked chagrined, she added: "It is
said, you know, that the light from mens' eyes is yet worse for womens'
faces than the light of the sun;" and she blushed as if she had said
something wrong. I stammered out I know not what extravagant compliment
in reply, and entreated that I might have an opportunity of seeing and
conversing with her sometimes: to which she promptly answered that she
should not object, if her mother approved it. I inquired why she had not
attended the exhibition; when I learnt from her, that, as she had been
slightly indisposed the day before, and her mother being unwilling she
should expose herself to the heat of the weather and the crowd, she had
been left under the care of her nurse; but that finding herself better,
she had permitted her attendants to walk over the grounds, while she
amused herself in embroidery; and that she had come into the garden to
get a fresh supply of the flowers she was working.
"She had by this time approached a small gate, which communicated with
the apartments on the ground-floor of the Zenana; when, turning to me,
she said, "You can return the way you came, but I must leave you here;"
and, making a slight bow, she sprung like a young fawn through the gate,
and was out of sight in a moment.
"You may wonder, my dear Atterley, that I should remember all these
minute circumstances, after the lapse of more than forty years; but
every incident of that day is as fresh in my memory as the occurrence of
yesterday. To this single green spot in my existence, my mind is never
tired of returning.
"I continued for some time in a sort of dreaming ecstasy; but as soon as
I collected my thoughts, I began to devise some scheme by which I could
again have the happiness of seeing and conversing with the lovely
Veenah. My brain had before that time teemed with ambitious projects of
distinguishing myself; sometimes as a priest--sometimes as a writer; and
occasionally I thought I would bend all my efforts to rouse my
countrymen to throw off the ignominious yoke of Great Britain. But this
short interview had changed the whole current of my thoughts. I had now
a new set of feelings, opinions, and wishes. My mind dwelt solely upon
the pleasures of domestic life--the surpassing bliss of loving and of
being beloved.
"When the cavalcade returned in the evening, its gaudy magnificence,
which I would not permit myself even to see in the morning, I now
regarded with cold indifference; nay, more, I congratulated myself on
having missed the exhibition, though a few hours before I had deemed
this privation one of the misfortunes of my life.
"The next day I went to the garden betimes; and as it communicated with
the shrubbery and grounds attached to the Zenana, and the males of the
family occasionally entered it when the ladies were not present, I
prevailed on the gardener to grant me admission, under the pretext of
gathering some uncommonly fine mangoes, which were then ripe. I went to
the several spots where I had first seen Veenah--where I had conversed
with her--where I had parted from her; and they each had some secret and
indescribable charm for me. I fear, Atterley, I fatigue you. The
feelings of which I speak, are fully known only to the natives of warm
climates, and to those but once in their lives."
I assured him that he was mistaken; that the emotions he described, were
the same in all countries, and at all times, and begged him to proceed.
"I repeated my visit," he continued, "several times the same day, under
any pretext I could invent--to gather an orange, or other fruit--to
pluck a rose--to frighten away mischievous birds--to catch the
unobstructed breeze, or sit in a cooler shade; in which artifices I
played a part that had before been foreign to my nature. I was
disappointed, however, in my wishes. I thought, indeed, I once saw some
one in the veranda, looking through the lattice into the garden, but the
figure soon disappeared.
"On the following day I had the satisfaction to hear my young companions
propose to go on a fishing party, an amusement in which, by the rules of
my caste, I was not allowed to partake. They had scarcely left the house
before I flew to the garden with a book in my hand, and passing as
before to the shrubbery, I buried myself in a close thicket at one end
of it. I remained there from the morning till late in the afternoon,
without refreshment of any kind; and such was the intensity of my
emotion, that I did not feel the want of it. At length, a little before
sunset, I saw Veenah and her three cousins enter the garden. I soon
contrived to show myself, with my book in my hand. I approached, bowed
to them all, but to Veenah last; and although my cousins showed surprise
at seeing me in their garden, at this time, they did not seem
displeased. I felt very desirous, I could not tell why, to conceal my
feelings from every person except her who was the object of them. I
forced a conversation with my two eldest cousins, who were modest
pleasing girls, and then with an embarrassed air addressed a few words
to Veenah and her companion, the youngest of my cousins. Occasionally I
would stray off from them as if I was about to leave them, and then
suddenly return. In one of these movements, I perceived that Veenah and
her associate had separated from the others, and strolled to a distant
part of the garden. I soon joined them as if it were by accident,
entered into conversation with them alternately, and of course only one
half of that which I either heard or said proceeded from the heart or
found its way thither. I know not if Veenah expected to see me, but she
was dressed with unusual care. We had not been conversing many minutes
before the eldest sister beckoning to them, they bid me good night and
returned to the house.
"To the same sort of management I had recourse every day, and seldom
failed to see and converse with Veenah, sometimes in company with all
her cousins, but oftener with Fatima, the youngest. By dividing my
attentions among them all, I succeeded for a while in concealing from
them the object of my preference; but the sex are too sharp-sighted to
be long deceived in these matters. As soon as I perceived that my secret
was discovered, I endeavoured to make a friend of Fatima, in which I was
successful. After this our meetings were more frequent, and what was of
greater importance, they were uninterrupted. Fatima, who was one of the
most generous and amiable girls in the world, would often take Veenah
out to walk, when her sisters were otherwise engaged; at which times she
was perpetually contriving, under some little pretext, to leave us
alone. We were not long in understanding each other; and when I urged
our early marriage, she ingenuously replied, that I had her consent
whenever I had her father's, and that she hoped I could obtain that; but
added, (and she trembled while she spoke) she did not know his views
respecting her. In the first raptures of requited affection, what lover
thinks of difficulties? In obtaining Veenah's heart I believed that all
mine were at an end, and my time was passed in one dream of unmixed
delight. Oh! what happiness I enjoyed in these interviews--in seeing
Veenah--in gazing on her lovely features--in listening to her
sentiments, that were sometimes gay and thoughtless, sometimes serious
and melancholy, but always tender and affectionate,--and now and then,
when not perceived, in venturing to take her hand. These fleeting joys
are ever recurring to my imagination, to show me what my lot might have
been, and to contrast it with its sad reverse!
"The time now approached for Veenah and her mother to return to Benares.
On the evening before they set out, Fatima contrived for us a longer
interview than usual. It was as melancholy as it was tender. But in the
midst of my grief, at the prospect of our separation, I recollected that
we were soon to meet again in the city; while Veenah's tears, for she
did not attempt to disguise or suppress her feelings, seemed already to
forebode that our happiness was here to terminate.
"When about to part, we exchanged amaranths I took her hand to bid her
adieu, and, without seeming to intend it, our lips met, and the first
kiss of love was moistened with a tear. Pardon me, Atterley, nature will
have her way."--And here the venerable man wept aloud.
I availed myself of this interruption to the narrative, to propose to my
venerable friend to take some refreshment. Having partaken of a frugal
repast, and invigorated ourselves, each with about four hours sleep, the
Brahmin thus resumed his story.
CHAPTER XVII.
_The Brahmin's story continued--The voyage concluded--Atterley and the
Brahmin separate--Atterley arrives in New--York._
"I was not slow to follow Veenah to the city, and as had been agreed
upon, had to ask the consent of her father to our union, as soon as I
had obtained the approbation of my own. Here I met with a difficulty
which I had not expected. My partial father had formed very high hopes
of my future advancement, and thought that an early marriage, though not
incompatible with my profession, or a successful discharge of its
duties, would put an end to my ambition, or at all events, lessen my
exertions. He first urged me to postpone my wishes, till I had completed
my college course, and had by travelling seen something of the world.
But finding me immoveable on this point, he then suggested that I might
meet with serious obstacles from Veenah's father, whom he represented as
remarkable both for his avarice and his bigotry; that consequently he
was likely to dispose of his daughter to the son-in-law who could pay
most liberally for her; and that the imputations which had been cast on
my religious creed, would reach his ears, if they had not already done
so, and be sure to prejudice him against me.
"These last considerations prevailed on me to defer my application to
Shunah Shoo, until the suspicions regarding my faith had either died
away, or been falsified by my scrupulous observance of all religious
duties. My excellent mother, who at first had entered into my feelings
and seconded my views, readily acquiesced in the good sense of my
father's advice.
"My next object was to communicate this to Veenah. I accordingly sat
down, and wrote a full account of all that had occurred, and folding up
the packet, hurried to the opposite quarter of the town where Shunah
Shoo lived. It was then in the dusk of the evening, and I was fearful it
was too late for me to be recognised; but after I had taken two or three
turns in the street, I saw the white amaranth I had given Veenah,
suspended by a thread from the lattice of an upper window. I immediately
held up the packet, and soon afterwards a cord was let down from the
same lattice to the ground. To this I hastily fastened the paper, and
passed on to avoid observation. The next evening you may be sure I was
at the same spot. The little amaranth again announced that I was
recognised; and as soon as we were satisfied that no one was observing
us, the cord let down one letter and took up another. Veenah's pen had
given an expression to her feelings, that her tongue had never ventured
to do before. She moreover commended my course--besought me to be
prudent--and above all, to do nothing to offend her father.
"The first letter which a lover receives from his mistress, is a new era
in his life. Again and again I kissed the precious paper, and almost
wore it out in my bosom. We afterwards improved in this mode of
intercourse, and, by various preconcerted signals, were able to carry on
our correspondence altogether in the night. Not a day passed that we did
not exchange letters, which, though they contained few facts, and always
expressed the same sentiments, still repeated what we were never tired
of hearing. To the moment at which I was to receive a letter from
Veenah, my thoughts were continually and anxiously turned: and it now
seems to me as if our passion was inflamed yet more by this sort of
intercourse, than by our personal interviews. I am convinced it wrought
more powerfully upon our imaginations. In the mean time I continued my
daily attendance at college, though my studies were utterly neglected,
one single object absorbing all my thoughts and feelings.
"I know not whether the evident change in my habits induced my old
enemy, Balty Mahu, to observe my motions. But so it was, that one
moonlight night I thought I was watched by some person; and on the
following night an individual of the same figure, and whom I now
suspected to be Balty Mahu, came suddenly from a cross street, and
passed near me. A few evenings afterwards, instead of a letter, I
received a scrap of paper from Veenah, on which was written the
following words:--
"We are discovered. Balty Mahu, who is my relative and your enemy, has
been here. He has persuaded my father that you are an unbeliever. I am
denied pen and ink. If you cannot convince my father of his error, O!
pity, and try to forget, your unhappy VEENAH."
"This writing was indistinctly traced with a burnt stick, on a blank
leaf torn out of a book. In the first moment of indignation, I felt
disposed to seek Balty Mahu, the great enemy of my life, and wreak my
vengeance on him for all his persecutions; but the conviction that such
a course would extinguish the last spark of hope, restrained me. I then
determined to see Shunah Shoo, and endeavour to remove his prejudices. I
accordingly called on him at his own house: but after he had heard my
vindication, (to which he evidently gave no credit,) he coolly told me
that he meant to dispose of his daughter in another way. The words fell
like ice upon my heart. I expostulated; and, offensive as was his
haughty air, even had recourse to entreaty. But he, in a yet harsher
manner, told me that he must be permitted to manage his own affairs in
his own way; and added, that he did not wish to be longer prevented from
attending to them. I was compelled to retire, with my heart almost as
full of hatred for the father, as of love for the child.
"On the same night, I again betook myself to the street in which Shunah
Shoo lived, but not by the ordinary route. I cautiously approached his
house. All was stillness and quiet: no light appeared to be burning in
Veenah's room, nor indeed in any other part of the house. I hence
concluded that they had now deprived her of light, as well as of pen and
ink. I continued in the street until near morning, straining my eyes and
ears in the hope of catching something that would give me intelligence
concerning her. Often, in the course of that painful suspense, did I
fancy I heard a noise at the lattice in Veenah's apartment, or in some
other part of the mansion; and once I persuaded myself I saw a light:
but these illusions served only to aggravate my disappointment. The next
morning, before I had left my room, my father informed me that Shunah
Shoo, with his family, had left Benares early the preceding evening; but
whither they had gone, he had not learnt.
"I rose, and immediately set about discovering their course; but all I
could learn was, that they had embarked in one of the passage-boats
which ply on the Ganges, and that Shunah had taken his palanquins and
many of his servants with him: and, as Balty Mahu had suddenly absented
himself from college at the same time, I did not doubt that he had aided
in executing the plan which he had also probably formed. My father, who
saw what I suffered, spared no pains to discover the place of their
retreat; but our endeavours were all ineffectual.
"At the end of three months, in which time my anxiety increased rather
than diminished, the mystery was dispelled. It was now trumpeted through
the city, that Shunah Shoo had returned to Benares in great pomp,
accompanied by a wealthy Omrah of a neighbouring district, to whom he
had given, or rather sold, his daughter. The news came upon me like a
clap of thunder. My previous state of suspense was happiness compared
with what I now felt, when I knew she was in the arms of another. In the
first transports of my grief and rage, I could have freely put to death
the father, daughter, husband, and myself. I was particularly desirous
of seeing Veenah, and venting on her the bitterest reproaches. Unjust
that I was! Her sufferings were not inferior to mine; but she had not,
like me, the privilege of making them known. I soon found that
Hircarrahs, in the pay of Balty Mahu, watched all my motions; and if I
had attempted any scheme of vengeance, its execution would have been
impracticable.
"After my first transports had subsided into deep and settled grief, my
love and tenderness for Veenah returned in full force. I endeavoured to
get a sight of her, and thought I should be comparatively happy if I
could converse with her, as formerly, though she was the wife of
another. After a short time, my uncle's family came to Benares, on a
visit to my father and to Shunah Shoo. By the aid of my indulgent
mother, who was seriously alarmed for what she saw I suffered, I was
able to see Fatima, and to make her the bearer of a letter to Veenah,
complaining of her breach of faith, and soliciting an interview. She
verbally replied to it through Fatima; and stated, in her justification,
that she was hurried from Benares to a town on the river, whence she was
rapidly transported to the castle of Omrah, who had not long before lost
his wife, and who was more than four times her age. That notwithstanding
the notions of filial obedience in which she had been brought up, and
the severity with which her father had ever exercised his authority, she
had resisted his commands on this occasion, and would have preferred
death to marrying the Omrah--nay, would have inflicted it on herself;
but that finding her unyielding after all their exertions, they had
effected their purpose by a deception which they had practised on her,
wherein it seemed that I had unconsciously concurred; for, by means of
an intercepted letter of mine to Fatima, in which, hopeless of learning
the place of Veenah's retreat, I had expressed an intention of visiting
England; and, by the farther aid of some dexterous forgeries, calculated
to impose on more experienced minds than hers, they succeeded in
persuading her that I had actually set out for Europe, with an intention
of never returning. That entertaining no doubt of this intelligence
--hopeless of ever seeing me again, and indifferent to every
thing besides, she had been led an unresisting victim to the altar.
"Such was the vindication which she considered it just to make me. But
all the entreaties of Fatima--all my letters, impassioned as they were,
appealing at once to her generosity, humanity, and love,--could not
prevail on her to grant me an interview.
"'Tell him,' said she, 'that heaven has forbid it, and to its decrees we
are bound to submit. I am now the wife of another, and it is our duty to
forget all that is past. But if this be possible, my heart tells me it
can be only by our never meeting!'
"In saying this, she wept bitterly; but at the same time exacted a
promise from Fatima, that she would never mention the subject to her
again. Finding her thus inexorable, I fell into a settled melancholy,
and my health was visibly declining. The Europeans consider the natives
of Hindostan to be feeble and effeminate; but the soul, that which
distinguishes man from brutes, acts with an intensity and constancy of
purpose of which they can furnish no examples.
"How long I could have withstood the corrosive effects of my hopeless
passion, irritated as it was by my being in the vicinity of its
object--by hearing perpetually of her beauty, and sometimes catching a
glimpse of it,--I know not; but the Omrah, after a few months spent with
his father-in-law, returned with his bride to his castle in the country.
Yielding now to the wishes of my anxious parents, I consented to travel.
I was at first benefited by the exercise and change of scene; but after
a while, my melancholy returned, and my health grew worse. Though
indifferent to life itself, and all that it now promised, I exerted
myself for the sake of my parents, especially of my mother, who suffered
so acutely on my account: but I carried a barbed arrow in my heart, and
the greater the efforts to extract it, the more they rankled the wound.
"After spending more than a year in travelling, first through the
mountainous district of our country, and then along the coast, and
finding no change for the better, I determined to try the effect of a
sea voyage. I accordingly embarked at Calcutta, in a coasting vessel
that was bound to Madras. At this time I had wasted away to a mere
skeleton, and no one who saw me, believed I could live a month. Such,
indeed, were my own impressions. In the letter which I wrote to my
parents, I endeavoured to prepare them for the worst. When, after a long
voyage, we reached Madras, my health was evidently improved; but a piece
of intelligence I here received, had perhaps a still greater effect I
learnt that Balty Mahu, who had kept himself concealed from me before I
left Benares, had lately visited Madras, on a travelling tour. This news
operated on me like a charm. The idea of avenging myself on the author
of all my calamities, infused new life into my exhausted frame, and from
the moment that I determined to pursue him, I felt like another man.
"You must not, however, suppose that I even then entertained the purpose
of taking away my enemy's life. No, I could not bring my mind exactly to
that; but I had a vague, undefined hope, that if we met, some new
provocation on his part would afford me just occasion for avenging
myself on all; so ingenious, my dear friend, is the sophistry of
the passions.
"I lost no time in setting out on the track of Balty Mahu, and, ere many
days, overtook him at a small town which he had left just as I entered
it, but not before he had received, through his servant, notice of my
arrival. My wary enemy, who had little expected to see me here, and who
had travelled as much to keep out of my way as to see the country,
conjectured my purpose, from the consciousness of what he had done to
provoke it. Thus, while we both appeared to others to be merely making a
tour of Hindostan, it was soon known to both of us, that my chief
purpose was to pursue him, and his to elude my pursuit. In the ardour,
as well as exercise of the chase, my health mended rapidly, but I was no
nearer the object of my pursuit; for, although I travelled somewhat
faster than Bally Mahu, as he wished to avoid the appearance of flying
from me, he sometimes contrived to put me on a wrong track. In this way
I was once led to travel towards the coast, while he proceeded in an
opposite direction to Benares, where he considered he would be most safe
from my vengeance, and where the restraints both of religion and law
would be more likely to operate on me than in a foreign district.
"My usual practice, on arriving at any town, was to endeavour to learn
if Balty Mahu had passed through it; if so, when and in what direction;
and to get the information, if possible, without seeming to seek it. On
one of these occasions, I heard from a party of merchants that the Omrah
Addaway, whose health had been declining for some time, had gone to
Benares, for the benefit of medical advice; that his disease, however,
had become more serious; and that it was generally thought it would soon
occasion his death. What a train of new thoughts, hopes, and desires,
did this intelligence excite in me! At first, influenced by the custom
of my country, which prohibits widows from marrying again, I thought
only of the pleasure of Veenah's society, which I should, of course, be
permitted to enjoy, when duty no longer forbade it; but my imagination
kindling in its course, I soon pictured her to myself as my wife. The
usages which stood in the way of our union, appeared to me barbarous and
absurd, and I thought that, banishment from my country, with Veenah,
would be infinitely better than any other condition of life without her.
These new-born visions so entirely absorbed me, that Balty Mahu was
entirely forgotten, or remembered only as we think of an insect which
had stung us an hour before. I travelled on at a yet more rapid rate
than I had done; and, without stopping on the road to make inquiries, I
heard enough to satisfy me that the Omrah could not long survive. When
within something more than ten leagues of Benares, I called, about
twilight, at a small inn, and meant, after refreshing myself with a few
hours' rest, to proceed on my journey. Two travellers were there, who
had just left Benares, and had taken up their quarters for the night.
They soon fell into conversation about the place they had left, when the
mention of Shunah Shoo's name excited my attention.
"'What a shame,' said one, 'that he should have sacrificed that
beautiful young creature to the rich old Omrah, when she had so good an
offer as Gurameer, the Brahmin Gafawad's only son.'
"'And is it not strange,' said the other, 'that a woman so young and
beautiful, should be content to follow to the grave one who is old
enough to be her grandfather, and whom she once loathed? But I suppose
that that old miser, Shunah Shoo, is at the bottom of it; and, as he
deprived her of the man she loved, he has compelled her to sacrifice
herself to the one she hates, that he may have her jewels and wealth.'
"'For that matter,' said the first, 'though Shunah Shoo is bad enough
for any thing where money is in the way, yet it is said that Veenah goes
to the funeral pile of her own accord. She has never seemed to set any
value on life since her marriage; and after she heard of Gurameer's
death, she has never been seen to smile. Poor young man!'--And here they
launched out into a strain of panegyric, which is often bestowed on the
dead; but I heeded only the first part of their discourse. Had it not
been nearly dark, they must have discovered the force of the feelings
which then agitated me. I trembled from head to foot, and, though
burning with impatience to obtain from them farther particulars, it was
some moments before I could trust myself to speak. At length I asked
them when the Suttee would take place; and was answered by one of them,
that it would certainly be performed on the following day; and that he
had seen the funeral pile himself. Without any farther delay, I set out
immediately for the city, and reached it in as short a time as a jaded
horse could carry me.
"I came in sight of Benares the next morning, from a hill which
overlooks it from the east. The sun was just rising, and pouring a flood
of light ever the city, the river, and the surrounding country. Never
was contrast greater than between my present feelings, and those which
the same spectacle had formerly excited. I now sickened at the prospect,
which once would have set my heart bounding with joy. I pressed on in
desperate haste, scarcely, however, knowing what I did, being at once
overpowered with fatigue, loss of sleep, and harassing emotions. I still
had to travel a circuitous course of some two or three miles; and when I
reached the city, its crowded population was already in motion: a great
multitude of women, of the lower order, with alarm and expectation
strongly depicted in their faces, were to be seen mingling in the crowd,
and pressing on in the same direction. I would have proceeded
immediately to my father's house, but for the fear of being too late.
Alighting, therefore, from my horse, I gave him in charge to my servant,
whom I sent to inform my parents of my arrival, and to request my father
to meet me at the Suttee. I then joined the mixed multitude, which now
thronged the streets. Occupied, as my thoughts were, with the scene I
was about to witness, and with fears for its issue, they were often
interrupted with remarks made in the crowd, in which Veenah's name or
mine were mentioned--some lamenting her cruel fate, others pitying mine;
but all condemning and execrating Shunah Shoo. Fortunately I was not
recognised by any whom I saw. When we reached the spot selected for the
sacrifice, the crowd that had there assembled, was not so great as to
prevent our getting near the funeral pile; but the numbers continued to
augment, until nothing could be seen from the slight eminence on which I
stood, but one dense mass of heads, all looking one way, and expressing
the intense interest they felt. At length a murmur, like that of distant
thunder, ran through the crowd: a passage was, with some difficulty,
effected through the multitude by the officers in attendance, and the
wretched Veenah made her appearance, supported by her own father on one
side, and an uncle on the other--pale enough to be taken for an
European--emaciated indeed, but still retaining the same exquisite beauty
of features and symmetry of form. She moved with the air of one who was
utterly indifferent to the concerns of this world, and to the awful fate
which awaited her. She turned her head on hearing the sound of my voice,
and, seeing me, shrieked out, "He lives! he lives!" but immediately
afterwards fainted in the arms of her supporters: at the same moment I
was forcibly held back by some of the attendants, and a number of the
bystanders rushed in between us, and intercepted my view. I heard my
name now repeated in every direction by the multitude--some calling out
to the priests to desist, and others to proceed. I struggled to
extricate myself, and passion lent me momentary strength; but it was
insufficient. After a short interval, I distinctly heard Veenah
imploring them to spare her. I called to the Brahmins who held her, to
leave her to herself. I endeavoured to rouse the multitude; but they
took the precaution to drown our voices, by the musical instruments
which are used on these occasions. Four of these monsters I saw
profaning the name of religion, by forcibly placing their victim on the
pile, under the show of assisting her to mount it; and there held her
down, beside the dead body of her husband, until, by cords provided for
the purpose, she was prevented from rising. I besought--I threatened--I
raved;--but all thoughts and minds were engrossed by the premature fate
of one so young and beautiful, and I was unheeded.
"Among the relatives who pressed around the funeral pile, I saw Balty
Mahu; and indignation for a moment got the better of grief. The pile was
now lighted, and in a moment all was hidden in smoke. I sickened at the
sight, and was obliged to turn away. Even then I heard, or thought I
heard, the dying shrieks of the victim, amid the groans and cries, and
the thousand shouts that rent the air! The pile and its contents being
now enveloped in flame, my keepers set me free, when, by an impulse of
frenzy, I rushed' to the pile, to make a last vain effort to rescue
Veenah, or to share her fate; but was stopped by some of the bystanders,
who called my act a profanation.
"'Yes,' said Balty Mahu, 'he has always been a scoffer of our religion.'
As soon as these words reached my ears, with the quickness of thought I
snatched a cimeter from the hands of one of the guards, and plunged it
in his breast. Of all that happened afterwards, my recollection is very
confused. I was rudely seized, and hurried to prison. My father was
coming to meet me, when he was informed of the fatal deed. I remember
that my coolness, or rather stupor, was in strong contrast with the
violence of his emotion. He accompanied me to prison, and continued with
me that night.
"It is not easy to take the life of one of my caste in India; and, by
dint of the exertions of my friends, in spite of the influence of Shunah
Shoo, and the family of the Omrah, I was pardoned, on condition of doing
penance, which was, that I should never live in a country in which the
religion of Brahmin prevailed, and should not again look at, or converse
with, any woman for two minutes together. Ere this took place, my
excellent mother, unable to withstand the shocks she had received from
my supposed death, my misfortunes, and my crime, died a martyr to
maternal affection. Wishing to conform to the sentence, and to be as
near my father as I could, I removed to the kingdom of Ava, where, you
know, they are followers of Buddha. Here I continued as long as my
father lived, which was about six years. In this period, time had so
alleviated my grief, that I began to take pleasure in the cultivation of
science, which constituted my chief employment.
"After my father's death, I indulged a curiosity I had felt in my youth,
of seeing foreign countries; and I visited China, Japan, and England.
During my residence in Asia, I had discovered lunarium ore in the
mountain near Mogaun; and this circumstance, many years afterwards, when
I determined to rest from my labours, induced me to settle in that
mountain, as I have before stated. I have occasionally used the metal to
counterbalance the gravity of a small car, by which I have profited, by
a favourable wind, to indulge the melancholy satisfaction of looking
down on the tombs of my parents, and of the ill-fated Veenah:
approaching the earth near enough, in the night, to see the sacred
spots, but not enough to violate the religious injunctions of my caste;
to avoid which, however, it was sometimes necessary for me to go across
Hindostan to Arabia or Persia, and there wait for a change of wind
before I could return: and it was these excursions which suggested to
the superstitious Burmans that my form had undergone a temporary
transformation. When such have been the woes of my life, you can no
longer think it strange, Atterley, that I delayed their painful recital;
or that, after having endured so much, all common dangers and
misfortunes should appear to me insignificant."
       *       *       *       *       *
The venerable Brahmin here concluded his narrative, and we both remained
thoughtful and silent for some time; he, apparently absorbed in the
recollections of his eventful life; and I, partly in the reflections
awakened by his story, and partly in the intense interest of revisiting
my native earth, and beholding once more all who were dear to me.
Already the extended map beneath us was assuming a distinct and varied
appearance; and the Brahmin, having applied his eye to the telescope,
and made a brief calculation of our progress, considered that
twenty-four hours more, if no accident interrupted us, would end our
voyage; part of which interval I passed in making notes in my journal,
and in contemplating the different sections of our many-peopled globe,
as they presented themselves successively to the eye. It was my wish to
land on the American continent, and, if possible, in the United States.
But the Brahmin put an end to that hope, by reminding me that we should
be attracted towards the Equator, and that we had to choose between
Asia, Africa, and South America; and that our only course would be, to
check the progress of our car over the country of greatest extent,
through which the equinoctial circle might pass. Saying which, he
relapsed into his melancholy silence, and I betook myself once more to
the telescope. With a bosom throbbing with emotion, I saw that we were
descending towards the American continent. When we were about ten or
twelve miles from the earth, the Brahmin arrested the progress of the
car, and we hovered over the broad Atlantic. Looking down on the ocean,
the first object which presented itself to my eye, was a small
one-masted shallop, which was buffeting the waves in a south-westerly
direction. I presumed it was a New England trader, on a voyage to some
part of the Republic of Colombia: and, by way of diverting my friend
from his melancholy reverie, I told him some of the many stories which
are current respecting the enterprise and ingenuity of this portion of
my countrymen, and above all, their adroitness at a bargain.
"Methinks," says the Brahmin, "you are describing a native of Canton or
Pekin. But," added he, after a short pause, "though to a superficial
observer man appears to put on very different characters, to a
philosopher he is every where the same--for he is every where moulded by
the circumstances in which he is placed. Thus; let him be in a situation
that is propitious to commerce, and the habits of traffic produce in him
shrewdness and address. Trade is carried on chiefly in towns, because it
is there carried on most advantageously. This situation gives the trader
a more intimate knowledge of his species--a more ready insight into
character, and of the modes of operating on it. His chief purpose is to
buy as cheap, and to sell as dear, as he can; and he is often able to
heighten the recommendations or soften the defects of some of the
articles in which he deals, without danger of immediate detection; or,
in other words, his representations have some influence with his
customers. He avails himself of this circumstance, and thus acquires the
habit of lying; but, as he is studious to conceal it, he becomes wary,
ingenious, and cunning. It is thus that the Phenicians, the
Carthagenians, the Dutch, the Chinese, the New-Englanders, and the
modern Greeks, have always been regarded as inclined to petty frauds by
their less commercial neighbours." I mentioned the English nation.
"If the English," said he, interrupting me, "who are the most commercial
people of modern times, have not acquired the same character, it is
because they are as distinguished for other things as for traffic: they
are not merely a commercial people--they are also agricultural, warlike,
and literary; and thus the natural tendencies of commerce are mutually
counteracted."
We afterwards descended slowly; the prospect beneath us becoming more
beautiful than my humble pen can hope to describe, or will even attempt
to portray. In a short time after, we were in sight of Venezuela. We met
with the trade-winds, and were carried by them forty or fifty miles
inland, where, with some difficulty, and even danger, we landed. The
Brahmin and myself remained together two days, and parted--he to explore
the Andes, to obtain additional light on the subject of his hypothesis,
and I, on the wings of impatience, to visit once more my long-deserted
family and friends. But before our separation, I assisted my friend in
concealing our aerial vessel, and received a promise from him to visit,
and perhaps spend with me the evening of his life. Of my journey home,
little remains to be said. From the citizens of Colombia, I experienced
kindness and attention, and means of conveyance to Caraccas; where,
embarking on board the brig Juno, captain Withers, I once more set foot
in New York, on the 18th of August, 1826, after an absence of four
years, resolved, for the rest of my life, to travel only in books, and
persuaded, from experience, that the satisfaction which the wanderer
gains from actually beholding the wonders and curiosities of distant
climes, is dearly bought by the sacrifice of all the comforts and
delights of home.
       *       *       *       *       *
Anonymous Review of _A Voyage to the Moon_
Reprinted from the American Quarterly Review No. 5 (March 1828), 61-88.
ART. III.--_A Voyage to the Moon: with some account of the Manners
and Customs, Science and Philosophy, of the People of Morosofia and
other Lunarians_: By JOSEPH ATTERLEY. New-York: Elam Bliss, 1827.
12mo. pp. 264.
It is somewhat remarkable, that perhaps the _only_ "Voyages to
the Moon," which have been published in the English tongue, should
have been the productions of English bishops:--the first forming a
tract, re-published in the Harleian Miscellany, and said to have been
written by Dr. Francis Goodwin, Bishop of Landaff, (who died in 1633,)
and entitled "_The Man in the Moon, or the discourse of a voyage
thither_, by Domingo Gonsales,"--and the second written in 1638, by
Dr. John Wilkins, Bishop of Chester, under the title of "_The
Discovery of a New World, or a Discourse tending to prove, that 'tis
probable there may be another habitable world in the Moon, with a
discourse concerning the possibility of a passage thither."_ These
two works differ in several essential particulars:--in Dr. Goodwin's,
we have men of enormous stature and prodigious longevity, with a
flying chariot, and some other slight points of resemblance to the
Travels of Gulliver:--whilst Bishop Wilkins's is intended honestly and
scientifically to prove, "that it is possible for some of our
posterity to find out a conveyance to this other world; and, if there
be inhabitants there, (which the Bishop, satisfactorily to himself,
settles,) to have commerce with them!" From the first of these, Swift
has derived many hints in his voyage to Laputa, and improved them into
those humorous and instructive allusions, which have caused the
reputation of the author of the _"Travels of Gulliver"_ to be
extended to every portion of the civilized globe. Since the appearance
of this celebrated satire, no one sufficiently comprehensive to lash
the follies of the age--the _quicquid agunt homines_--has made
its appearance: we have had numerous ephemeral productions, inflicting
severe castigations upon particular vices or absurdities; but the
visionary conceits of the many, constantly promulgated in the
progressive advancement of human knowledge, although legitimate
objects of censure, have not, since the time of Swift, been embodied
into one publication.
The evident aim of the author of the Satirical Romance before us, is
to fulfil for the present age, what _Swift_ so successfully
accomplished for that which has passed by:--to attack, by the weapons
of ridicule, those votaries of knowledge, who may have sought to avail
themselves of the universal love of novelty amongst mankind, to acquire
celebrity; or who may have been misled by their own ill-regulated
imaginations, to obtrude upon the world their crude and imperfect
theories and systems, to the manifest retardation of knowledge:--an
effect, too, liable to be induced in a direct ratio with the degree
of talent and ingenuity by which their views may have been supported.
Several of these may always be more successfully attacked by ridicule
than by reason; inasmuch as they are, in this way, more likely to become
the subjects of popular animadversion; and many, who could withstand
the serious arguments of their fraternity, cannot placidly endure their
ridicule. Satire has, indeed, often done more service to the cause of
religion and morality than a sermon, since the remedy is agreeable,
whilst it at the same time communicates indignation or fear:--
    "Of all the ways that wisest men could find,
    To mend the age and mortify mankind,
    Satire, well writ, has most successful prov'd.
    And cures, because the remedy is lov'd."
To produce, however, the full effect, satire must possess a certain
degree of impartiality, and be levelled in all instances at the vices
or follies, and not at the man. The first sketch of Gulliver's Travels
occurs in the proposed Travels of Martinus Scriblerus, devised in that
pleasing society where most of Swift's miscellanies were planned. Had
the work, however, been executed under the same auspices, it would
probably, as Sir Walter Scott has suggested,[1] "have been occupied by
that personal satire, upon obscure and unworthy contemporaries, to
which Pope was but too much addicted. But when the Dean mused in
solitude over the execution of his plan, it assumed at once a more
grand and a darker complexion. The spirit of indignant hatred and
contempt with which he regarded the mass of humanity; his quiet and
powerful perception of their failings, errors, and crimes; his zeal
for liberty and freedom of thought, tended at once to generalize,
while it embittered, his satire, and to change traits of personal
severity for that deep shade of censure which Gulliver's Travels throw
upon mankind universally." Most of the sentiments which impressed
Swift, seem also to have been felt by the unknown author of the work
before us: it is not, however, free from personal allusions; but they
are all conveyed in so good natured a manner, as to satisfy the reader
that the author has been solicitous to animadvert only on the vices of
the individual; and in no part of the work is there the slightest
evidence of prejudice or venom.
The pseudo _Joseph Atterley_, the hero of the narrative, was born
in Huntingdon, Long-Island, on the 11th of May, 1786. He was the son
of a seafaring individual, who, by means of the portion he received by
his wife, together with his own earnings, was enabled to quit that
laborious occupation, and to enter into trade; and, after the death of
his father-in-law, by whose will he received a handsome accession to
his property, he sought, in the city of New-York, a theatre better
adapted to his enlarged capital. "He here engaged in foreign trade,
and partaking of the prosperity which then attended American commerce,
gradually extended his business, and finally embarked in the then new
branch of traffic to the East Indies and China; he was now generally
respected both for his wealth and fair dealing; was several years a
director in one of the insurance offices; was president of the society
for relieving the widows and orphans of distressed seamen; and, it is
said, might have been chosen alderman, if he had not refused, on the
ground that he did not think himself qualified."
Our hero was, at an early age, put to a grammar school of good repute,
in his native village, and, at seventeen, was sent to Princeton, to
prepare himself for some profession; during his third year at that
place, in one of his excursions to Philadelphia, he became enamoured
"with one of those faces and forms, which, in a youth of twenty, to
see, admire, and love, is one and the same thing;" and was united to
the object of his affections, on the anniversary of his twenty-first
year. This event gave him a distaste for serious study; and, long
before this, he had felt a sentiment, bordering on contempt, for
mercantile pursuits; he therefore prevailed upon his father to
purchase him a neat country seat in the vicinity of Huntingdon. Here,
seventeen happy years glided away swiftly and imperceptibly, when
death, by depriving him of the partner of his felicity, prostrated all
his hopes and enjoyments. For the purpose of seeking for that relief
to the feelings, which variety can best afford, he now determined to
make a voyage; and, as one of his father's vessels was about to sail
for Canton, embarked on board of her, and left Sandyhook on the 5th
day of June, 1822. From this period, until the 24th of October, their
voyage was comparatively agreeable; but when off the mouths of the
Ganges, one of those hurricanes, well known to the experienced
navigators of the eastern seas, struck the ship, and rendered her so
leaky, that the captain considered it advisable to make for the
nearest port; the leak, however, increasing rapidly, and finding
themselves off a coast, which the captain, by his charts, pronounced
to be a part of the Burman empire, and in the neighbourhood of Mergui,
on the Martaban coast, they hastily threw their clothes, papers, and
eight casks of silver, into the long-boat; and, before they were fifty
yards from the ship, had the melancholy satisfaction to see her go
  "It was a little after mid-day when we reached the town, which is
  perched on a high bluff, overlooking the coasts, and contains about a
  thousand houses, built of bamboo, and covered with palm leaves. Our
  dress, appearance, language, and the manner of our arrival, excited
  great surprise among the natives, and the liveliest curiosity; but
  with these sentiments some evidently mingled no very friendly
  feelings. The Burmese were then on the eve of a rupture with the East
  India Company, a fact which we had not before known; and mistaking us
  for English, they supposed, or affected to suppose, that we belonged
  to a fleet which was about to invade them, and that our ship had been
  sunk before their eyes, by the tutelar divinity of the country. We
  were immediately carried before their governor, or chief magistrate,
  who ordered our baggage to be searched, and finding that it consisted
  principally of silver, he had no doubt of our hostile intentions. He
  therefore sent all of us, twenty-two in number, to prison, separating,
  however, each one from the rest. My companions were released the
  following spring, as I have since learnt, by the invading army of
  Great Britain; but it was my ill fortune (if, indeed, after what has
  since happened, I can so regard it) to be taken for an officer of high
  rank, and to be sent, the third day afterwards, far into the interior,
  that I might be more safely kept, and either used as a hostage or
  offered for ransom, as circumstances should render advantageous."
Our hero was transported very rapidly in a palanquin, for thirteen
successive days, when he reached Mozaun, a small village delightfully
situated in the mountainous district between the Irawaddi and Saloon
rivers, where he was placed under the care of an inferior magistrate,
who there exercised the chief authority. By submissive and respectful
behaviour, he succeeded in ingratiating himself so completely with his
keeper, that he was regarded more as one of his family, than as a
prisoner; and was allowed every indulgence, consistently with his safe
custody. It had been one of his favourite recreations, to ascend a
part of the western ridge of mountains, which rose in a cone, about a
mile and a half from the village, for the purpose of enjoying the
enchanting scenery that lay before him, and the evening breeze, which
possesses so delicious a degree of freshness in tropical climates.
Here he became acquainted with a personage, of whom, as he exerted an
important influence over the future conduct of our hero, it is of
consequence that the reader should acquire early information:--
  "In a deep sequestered nook, formed by two spurs of this mountain,
  there lived a venerable Hindoo, whom the people of the village called
  the Holy Hermit. The favourable accounts I received of his character,
  as well as his odd course of life, made me very desirous of becoming
  acquainted with him; and, as he was often visited by the villagers, I
  found no difficulty in getting a conductor to his cell. His character
  for sanctity, together with a venerable beard, might have discouraged
  advances towards an acquaintance, if his lively piercing eye, a
  countenance expressive of great mildness and kindness of disposition,
  and his courteous manners, had not yet more strongly invited it. He
  was indeed not averse to society, though he had seemed thus to fly
  from it; and was so great a favourite with his neighbours, that his
  cell would have been thronged with visiters, but for the difficulty of
  the approach to it. As it was, it was seldom resorted to, except for
  the purpose of obtaining his opinion and counsel on all the serious
  concerns of his neighbours. He prescribed for the sick, and often
  provided the medicine they required--expounded the law--adjusted
  disputes--made all their little arithmetical calculations--gave them
  moral instruction--and, when he could not afford them relief in their
  difficulties, he taught them patience, and gave them consolation. He,
  in short, united, for the simple people by whom he was surrounded, the
  functions of lawyer, physician, schoolmaster, and divine, and richly
  merited the reverential respect in which they held him, as well as
  their little presents of eggs, fruit, and garden stuff.
  "From the first evening that I joined the party which I saw clambering
  up the path that led to the Hermit's cell, I found myself strongly
  attached to this venerable man, and the more so, from the mystery
  which hung around his history. It was agreed that he was not a
  Burmese. None deemed to know certainly where he was born, or why he
  came thither. His own account was, that he had devoted himself to the
  service of God, and in his pilgrimage over the east, had selected this
  as a spot particularly favourable to the life of quiet and seclusion
  he wished to lead.
  "There was one part of his story to which I could scarcely give
  credit. It was said that in the twelve or fifteen years he had resided
  in this place, he had been occasionally invisible for months together,
  and no one could tell why he disappeared, or whither he had gone. At
  these times his cell was closed; and although none ventured to force
  their way into it, those who were the most prying could hear no sound
  indicating that he was within. Various were the conjectures formed on
  the subject. Some supposed that he withdrew from the sight of men for
  the purpose of more fervent prayer and more holy meditation; others,
  that he visited his home, or some other distant country. The more
  superstitious believed that he had, by a kind of metempsychosis, taken
  a new shape, which, by some magical or supernatural power, he could
  assume and put off at pleasure This opinion was perhaps the most
  prevalent, as it gained a colour with these simple people, from the
  chemical and astronomical instruments he possessed In these he
  evidently took great pleasure, and by then means he acquired some of
  the knowledge by which he so often excited their admiration.
  "He soon distinguished me from the rest of his visiters, by addressing
  questions to me relative to my history and adventures, and I, in turn,
  was gratified to have met with one who took an interest in my
  concerns, and who alone, of all I had here met with, could either
  enter into my feelings or comprehend my opinions. Our conversations
  were earned on in English, which he spoke with facility and
  correctness We soon found ourselves so much to each other's taste,
  that there was seldom an evening that I did not make him a visit, and
  pass an hour or two in his company
  "I learned from him that he was born and bred at Benares, in
  Hindostan, that he had been intended for the priesthood, and had been
  well instructed in the literature of the east That a course of
  untoward circumstances, upon which he seemed unwilling to dwell, had
  changed his destination, and made him a wanderer on the face of the
  earth That in the neighbouring kingdom of Siam he had formed an
  intimacy with a learned French Jesuit, who had not only taught him his
  language, but imparted to him a knowledge of much of the science of
  Europe, its institutions and manners That after the death of this
  friend, he had renewed his wanderings, and having been detained in
  this village by a fit of sickness for some weeks, he was warned that
  it was time to quit his rambling life. This place being recommended to
  him, both by its quiet seclusion, and the unsophisticated manners of
  its inhabitants, he determined to pass the remnant of his days here,
  and, by devoting them to the purposes of piety, charity, and science,
  to discharge his duty to his Creator, his species, and himself, 'for
  the love of knowledge,' he added, 'has long been my chief source of
  selfish enjoyment'"
The acquaintance between Atterley and the Brahmin, ripened by degrees,
into that close friendship, which a congeniality of tastes and
sentiments, under proper opportunities, never fails to engender.
Atterley's visits to the hermitage, became more and more frequent, for
upwards of three years, during which period, the Brahmin had
occasionally thrown out obscure hints, that the time would come, when
our hero should be restored to liberty, and that he had an important
secret which he would one day communicate. About this period, one
afternoon in the month of March, when Atterley repaired, as usual, to
the hermitage, he found the Brahmin dangerously ill of a pleuritic
affection, and apprehensive that the attack might prove fatal--
  "Sit down," said he, "on that block, and listen to what I shall say to
  you Though I shall quit this state of being for another and a better,
  I confess that I was alarmed at the thought of expiring, before I had
  an opportunity of seeing and conversing with you I am the depository
  of a secret, that I believe is known to no other living mortal I once
  determined that it should die with me, and had I not met with you, it
  certainly should But from our first acquaintance, my heart has been
  strongly attracted towards you, and as soon as I found you possessed
  of qualities to inspire esteem as well as regard, I felt disposed to
  give you this proof of my confidence Still I hesitated I first wished
  to deliberate on the probable effects of my disclosure upon the
  condition of society I saw that it might produce evil, as well as
  good, but on weighing the two together, I have satisfied myself that
  the good will preponderate, and have determined to act accordingly
  Take this key, (stretching out his feverish hand,) and after waiting
  two hours, in which time the medicine I have taken will have either
  produced a good effect or put an end to my sufferings, you may then
  open that blue chest in the corner It has a false bottom On removing
  the paper which covers it, you will find the manuscript containing the
  important secret, together with some gold pieces, which I have saved
  for the day of need--because--(and he smiled in spite of his
  sufferings)--because hoarding is one of the pleasures of old men. Take
  them both, and use them discreetly."
Atterley quitted the cell, and waited with feverish expectation for
the termination of the allotted two hours, when, to his inexpressible
delight, he found, on re-entering the cell, that not only did the
Brahmin breathe, but that he slept soundly; and, in the course of an
hour, he awoke, almost restored to health. This event, however, was
the occasion of a more early disclosure of the Brahmin's important
secret, but not until he had recovered his ordinary health and
  "I have already told you, my dear Atterley, that I was born and
  educated at Benares, and that science is there more thoroughly
  understood and taught than the people of the west are aware of. We
  have, for many thousands of years, been good astronomers, chymists,
  mathematicians, and philosophers. We had discovered the secret of
  gunpowder, the magnetic attraction, the properties of electricity,
  long before they were heard of in Europe. We know more than we have
  revealed, and much of our knowledge is deposited in the archives of
  the castle to which I belong, but, for want of language generally
  understood and easily learnt, (for these records are always written in
  the Sanscrit, that is no longer a spoken language,) and the diffusion
  which is given by the art of printing, these secrets of science are
  communicated only to a few, and sometimes even sleep with their
  authors, until a subsequent discovery, under more favourable
  circumstances, brings them again to light.
  "It was at this seat of science that I learned, from one of our sages,
  the physical truth which I am now about to communicate, and which he
  discovered, partly by his researches into the writings of ancient
  Pundits, and partly by his own extraordinary sagacity. There is a
  principle of repulsion as well as gravitation in the earth. It causes
  fire to rise upwards. It is exhibited in electricity. It occasions
  water-spouts, volcanoes, and earthquakes. After much labour and
  research, this principle has been found embodied in a metallic
  substance, which is met with in the mountain in which we are, united
  with a very heavy earth, and this circumstance had great influence in
  inducing me to settle myself here.
  "This metal, when separated and purified, has as great a tendency to
  fly off from the earth, as a piece of gold or lead has to approach it.
  After making a number of curious experiments with it, we bethought
  ourselves of putting it to some use, and soon contrived, with the aid
  of it, to make cars and ascend into the air. We were very secret in
  these operations, for our unhappy country having then recently fallen
  under the subjection of the British nation, we apprehended that if we
  divulged our arcanum, they would not only fly away with all our
  treasures, whether found in palace or pagoda, but also carry off the
  inhabitants, to make them slaves in their colonies, as their
  government had not then abolished the African slave trade.
  "After various trials and many successive improvements, in which our
  desires increased with our success, we determined to penetrate the
  aerial void as far as we could, providing for that purpose an
  apparatus, with which you will become better acquainted hereafter. In
  the course of our experiments, we discovered that this same metal,
  which was repelled from the earth, was in the same degree attracted
  towards the moon, for in one of our excursions, still aiming to ascend
  higher than we had ever done before, we were actually carried to that
  satellite, and if we had not there fallen into a lake, and our machine
  had not been water-tight, we must have been dashed to pieces or
  drowned. You will find in this book," he added, presenting me with a
  small volume, bound in green parchment, and fastened with silver
  clasps, "a minute detail of the apparatus to be provided, and the
  directions to be pursued in making this wonderful voyage. I have
  written it since I satisfied my mind that my fears of British rapacity
  were unfounded, and that I should do more good than harm by publishing
  the secret. But still I am not sure," he added, with one of his faint
  but significant smiles, "that I am not actuated by a wish to
  immortalize my name; for where is the mortal who would be indifferent
  to this object, if he thought he could attain it? Read the book at
  your leisure, and study it."
Here, by the way, we may remark, that the kind of vehicle best adapted
for conveyance through the aerial void, has been a weighty stumbling
block to authors, from the time of the eagle-mounted Ganymede, to that
of Daniel O'Rourke; or of the wing furnished Daedalus and Icarus, to
that of the flying Turk in Constantinople, referred to by Busbequius;
or of the flying artist of the happy valley, in Rasselas. When
Trygaeus was desirous of reaching the Gods, he erected, we are told, a
series of small ladders--[Greek: epeita lepta klimakia]--but receiving
a severe contusion on the head, from their downfall, he ingeniously
had recourse to a scheme of flying through the air, on a colossal
variety of those industrious but not over-delicate insects, the
_Scarabaeus Carnifex_--the only insect, notwithstanding, according
to Aesop, privileged to ascend to the habitations of the gods--
    [Greek: monos peteinoon eis theous aphigmenos.[2]]
Most of the stories of Pegasi and Hippogriffs, and of flying chariots,
from that of Phaeton downwards to Astolfo's,[3] were evidently
intended by their authors as mythical; not so, however, with Bishop
Wilkins;--he boldly avers, for several reasons which he keeps to
himself, and for others not very comprehensible to us, which he
details "seriously and on good grounds," "that it is possible to make
a flying chariot, in which a man may sit, and give such a motion unto
it, as shall convey him through the air; and this perhaps might be
made large enough to carry divers men at the same time, together with
food for their _viaticum_, and commodities for traffic." "It is
not," lucidly continues the Bishop, "the bigness of any thing in this
kind, that can hinder its motion, if the motive faculty be answerable
thereunto. We see a great ship swims as well as a small cork; and an
eagle flies in the air, as well as a little gnat. This engine may be
contrived from the same principles by which Archytas made a wooden
dove, and Regiomontanus a wooden eagle. I conceive it were no
difficult matter, (if a man had leisure,) to show more particularly
the means of composing it"!--which want of leisure in the credulous
Bishop, our readers will regret with us, especially those inventive
geniuses, who, like the projector in the reign of George I., published
a scheme for manufacturing pine plank from pine saw-dust, or the still
more ingenious undertaker of later times, who proposed to make _pine
plank_ out of _oak_ saw-dust, by the mere addition of a little
Again, Swift's flying Island of Laputa is a phenomenon so opposed to
all scientific probability, and so directly at variance with natural
laws, that it loses in interest in a direct ratio with the violence it
does to our feelings. Nor is the mode of conveyance imagined by
Voltaire less incongruous than that of Swift. When Micromegas, ah
inhabitant of Sirius, whose adventures were evidently suggested by
those of Gulliver, accompanied by an inhabitant of Saturn, leaves the
latter planet, they are, in the first place, made to leap upon the
Ring of Saturn, which they find tolerably flat, "comme l'a fort bien
deviné un illustre habitant de notre petit globe:" thence they go from
moon to moon, and a comet passing close to one of these, they throw
themselves upon it, with their attendants and instruments. In their
course, they fall in with the satellites of Jupiter, and pass on to
Jupiter itself, where they remain for a year; but what becomes of the
comet in the mean time, we are not informed! Leaving Jupiter, they
"coast" along the planet Mars, and finally reach the earth, where they
resolve to disembark. Accordingly "ils passèrent sur la queue de la
comète; et trouvant une aurore boréale toute prête, ils se mirent
dedans, et arrivèrent à terre sur le bord septentrional de la Mer
Baltique"![4]
The vehicle, however, has not formed the sole obstacle to those
projectors:--the _viaticum_, especially the food, has been a
difficulty not readily got over. Before Bishop Wilkins alludes to his
flying chariot, he remarks, that even if men could fly, the swiftest
of them would probably be half a year in reaching the end of his
journey; and hence a problem would arise, "how it were possible to
tarry so long without sleep or diet?" Of the former obstacle, however,
he quickly disposes,--"seeing we do not then spend ourselves in any
labour, we shall not, it may be, _need_ the refreshment of sleep:
but if we do, we cannot desire a softer bed than the air, where we may
repose ourselves firmly and safely as in our chambers"! Of the latter
he finds somewhat more difficulty in disposing,--"and here it is
considerable, that, since our bodies will then be devoid of gravity
and other impediments of motion, we shall not at all spend ourselves
in any labour, and so, consequently, not much need the reparation of
diet, but may perhaps live altogether without it, as those creatures
have done, who, by reason of their sleeping for many days together,
have not spent any spirits, and so not wanted any food; which is
commonly related of serpents, crocodiles, bears, cuckoos, swallows,
and such like. To this purpose, Mendoca reckons up divers strange
relations, as that of Epimenides, who is storied to have slept
seventy-five years; and another of a rustic in Germany, who, being
accidentally covered with a hay-rick, slept there for all the autumn
and the winter following, without any nourishment Or, if we must needs
feed upon something else, why may not smells nourish us? Plutarch, and
Pliny, and divers other ancients, tell us of a nation in India, that
lived only upon pleasing odours; and it is the common opinion of
physicians, that these do strangely both strengthen and repair the
spirits. Hence was it that Democritus was able, for divers days
together, to feed himself with the mere smell of hot bread.[5] Or, if
it be necessary that our stomachs must receive the food, why then it
is not impossible that the purity of the etherial air, being not mixed
with any improper vapours, may be so agreeable to our bodies, as to
yield us sufficient nourishment," with many other arguments of the
like nature. The Bishop ultimately, however, severs the knot, by the
suggestion of his flying chariot, which he makes large enough (for,
_ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute!_) to carry not only food
for the _viaticum_ of the passengers, but also commodities for
their traffic!
Infinitely more ingenuity did the great comic poet of antiquity
display, when he selected the _Scarabaeus;_ as the food which had
already served the purposes of digestion with the Rider, was still
capable of affording nutrition to the animal:--
    nun d'att'an autos kataphagoo ta sitia.
    toutoisi tois autoisi touton chortasoo[6]]
Now all these schemes, ingenious as they may be, are objectionable for
the same reasons as the flying Island of Laputa--their glaring
violation of verisimilitude, and many of them of possibility. In these
respects, that of the author of the work before us is liable to less
objection: he only resorts to an extension of avowed physical
principles; and if we could suppose a substance, which, instead of
gravitating towards the earth, is repelled from it and attracted
towards the moon, (certainly a difficult  "_premier pas_,") the
remainder of the machinery, for reaching that luminary, would not be
inconsistent with probability or the known laws of physics.
But, to return to the narrative:--The Brahmin having given Atterley a
description of some of the remarkable objects which he met with, in
his voyage to the moon; expressed his anxiety to repeat it, for the
purpose of ascertaining some facts about which he had been
speculating, as well as of removing the incredulity with which, he
could not but perceive, his story had impressed his hearer,
notwithstanding his belief in the Hermit's integrity; when Atterley
eagerly caught at the proposal. Their preparations, however, required
time as well as considerable skill, not only for the construction of
the vehicle, but also to avoid suspicion and interruption from the
Governor of Mergui,--and the priesthood, who possessed the usual
Oriental superstition and intolerance.
For the construction of their apparatus they had recourse to an
ingenious artificer in copper and other metals, whose child the
Brahmin had been instrumental in curing of a chronic disease, and in
whose fidelity as well as good will they could securely rely.
  "The coppersmith agreed to undertake the work we wanted done, for a
  moderate compensation, but we did not think it prudent to inform him
  of our object, which he supposed was to make some philosophical
  experiment. It was forthwith arranged that he should occasionally
  visit the Hermit, to receive instructions, as if for the purpose of
  asking medical advice. During this interval my mind was absorbed with
  our project; and when in company, I was so thoughtful and abstracted,
  that it has since seemed strange to me that Sing Fou's suspicions that
  I was planning my escape were not more excited. At length, by dint of
  great exertion, in about three months every thing was in readiness,
  and we determined on the following night to set out on our perilous
  expedition.
  "The machine in which we proposed to embark, was a copper vessel, that
  would have been an exact cube of six feet, if the corners and edges
  had not been rounded off. It had an opening large enough to receive
  our bodies, which was closed by double sliding pannels, with quilted
  cloth between them. When these were properly adjusted, the machine was
  perfectly air-tight, and strong enough, by means of iron bars running
  alternately inside and out, to resist the pressure of the atmosphere,
  when the machine should be exhausted of its air, as we took the
  precaution to prove by the aid of an air pump. On the top of the
  copper chest and on the outside, we had as much of the lunar metal
  (which I shall henceforth call _lunarium_) as we found by
  calculation and experiment, would overcome the weight of the machine,
  as well as its contents, and take us to the moon on the third day. As
  the air which the machine contained, would not be sufficient for our
  respiration more than about six hours, and the chief part of the space
  we were to pass through was a mere void, we provided ourselves with a
  sufficient supply, by condensing it in a small globular vessel, made
  partly of iron and partly of lunarium, to take off its weight. On my
  return, I gave Mr. Jacob Perkins, who is now in England, a hint of
  this plan of condensation, and it has there obtained him great
  celebrity. This fact I should not have thought it worth while to
  mention, had he not taken the sole merit of the invention to himself,
  at least I cannot hear that in his numerous public notices he has ever
  mentioned my name.
  "But to return. A small circular window, made of a single piece of
  thick clear glass, was neatly fitted on each of the six sides. Several
  pieces of lead were securely fastened to screws which passed through
  the bottom of the machine as well as a thick plank. The screws were so
  contrived, that by turning them in one direction, the pieces of lead
  attached to them were immediately disengaged from the hooks with which
  they were connected. The pieces of lunarium were fastened in like
  manner to screws, which passed through the top of the machine; so that
  by turning them in one direction, those metallic pieces would fly into
  the air with the velocity of a rocket. The Brahmin took with him a
  thermometer, two telescopes, one of which projected through the top of
  the machine, and the other through the bottom; a phosphoric lamp, pen,
  ink, and paper, and some light refreshments sufficient to supply us
  for some days.
  "The moon was then in her third quarter, and near the zenith: it was,
  of course, a little after midnight, and when the coppersmith and his
  family were in their soundest sleep, that we entered the machine. In
  about an hour more we had the doors secured, and every thing arranged
  in its place, when, cutting the cords which fastened us to the ground,
  by means of small steel blades which worked in the ends of other
  screws, we rose from the earth with a whizzing sound, and a sensation
  at first of very rapid ascent, but after a short time, we were
  scarcely sensible of any motion in the machine, except when we changed
  our places."
After the apprehensions of Atterley, occasioned by the novelty and
danger of his situation, had partly subsided, he was enabled, with
mingled awe and admiration, to contemplate the magnificent spectacle
beneath him. As the earth turned round its axis, during their ascent,
every part of its surface came successively under view. At nine
o'clock, the whole of India was to the west of them; its rivers
resembling small filaments of silver, and the Red Sea a narrow plate
of the same metal. The peninsula of India was of a dark, and Arabia of
a light, grayer green, and the sun's rays striking on the Atlantic,
emitted an effulgence dazzling to the eyes. On looking, some time
afterwards, through the telescope, they observed the African
Continent, at its northern edge; fringed, as it were, with green;
"then a dull white belt marked the great Sahara or Desert, and then it
exhibited a deep green to its most southern extremity." The Morea and
Grecian Archipelago now fell under their telescope, and gradually the
whole Mediterranean, and Arabian Gulf--the great media separating
Africa from Europe and Asia; "the political divisions of these
quarters of the world were of course undistinguishable, and few of the
natural were discernible by the naked eye. The Alps were marked by a
white streak, though less bright than the water." By the aid of the
glass they could just discern the Danube, the Nile, and "a river which
empties itself into the Gulf of Guinea," and which Atterley took to be
the Niger; but the other streams were not perceptible. The most
conspicuous object of the solid part of the globe was the great
Desert; the whole of Africa, however, appeared of a brighter hue than
either Asia or Europe.
  "I was struck too, with the vast disproportion which the extent of the
  several countries of the earth bore to the part they had acted in
  history, and the influence they had exerted on human affairs. The
  British islands had diminished to a speck, and France was little
  larger, yet, a few years ago it seemed, at least to us in the United
  States, as if there were no other nations on the earth. The Brahmin,
  who was well read in European history, on my making a remark on this
  subject, reminded me that Athens and Sparta had once obtained almost
  equal celebrity, although they were so small as not now to be visible.
  As I slowly passed the telescope over the face of Europe, I pictured
  to myself the fat, plodding Hollander--the patient, contemplative
  German--the ingenious, sensual Italian--the temperate Swiss--the
  haughty, superstitious Spaniard--the sprightly, self-complacent
  Frenchman--the sullen and reflecting Englishman--who monopolise nearly
  all the science and literature of the earth, to which they bear so
  small a proportion. As the Atlantic fell under our view, two faint
  circles on each side of the equator, were to be perceived by the naked
  eye. They were less bright than the rest of the ocean. The Brahmin
  suggested that they might be currents; which brought to my memory Dr.
  Franklin's conjecture on the subject, now completely verified by this
  circular line of vapour, as it had been previously rendered probable
  by the floating substances, which had been occasionally picked up, at
  great distances from the places where they had been thrown into the
  ocean. The circle was whiter and more distinct, where the Gulf Stream
  runs parallel to the American coast, and gradually grew fainter as it
  passed along the Banks of Newfoundland, to the coast of Europe, where,
  taking a southerly direction, the line of the circle was barely
  discernible. A similar circle of vapour, though less defined and
  complete, was perceived in the South Atlantic Ocean."
By degrees the travellers saw one half of the broad expanse of the
Pacific, which glistened like quicksilver or polished steel, and
subsequently the middle of the Pacific lay immediately beneath them;
the irregular distribution of land and water on the globe, the expanse
of Ocean here, being twice as large as in any other part, gives
occasion to some amusing discussions on the various theories of
cosmogony, to which we can only refer the reader; wearied, however, by
these and other discussions, Atterley slept for six hours, and on
awaking, found the Brahmin busy in calculating their progress; after
which the latter lay down and soon fell into a tranquil sleep, having
previously requested that he might be awakened at the expiration of
three hours, or sooner if any thing of moment should occur. Atterley
now looked down again through the telescope, and found the earth
surprisingly diminished in its apparent dimensions, from the increased
rapidity of their ascent; the eastern coasts of Asia were still full
in view, as well as the whole figure of that extensive continent--of
New-Holland, of Ceylon and of Borneo; but the smaller islands were
  "I strained my eye to no purpose, to follow the indentations of the
  coast, according to the map before me, the great bays and promontories
  could alone be perceived. The Burman Empire, in one of the
  insignificant villages of which I had been confined for a few years,
  was now reduced to a speck. The agreeable hours I had passed with the
  Brahmin, with the little daughter of Sing Fou, and my rambling over
  the neighbouring heights, all recurred to my mind, and I almost
  regretted the pleasures I had relinquished. I tried with more success
  to beguile the time by making notes in my journal, and after having
  devoted about an hour to this object, I returned to the telescope, and
  now took occasion to examine the figure of the earth near the Poles,
  with a view of discovering whether its form favoured Captain Symmes's
  theory of an aperture existing there, and I am convinced that that
  ingenious gentleman is mistaken. Time passed so heavily during these
  solitary occupations, that I looked at my watch every five minutes,
  and could scarcely be persuaded it was not out of order. I then took
  up my little Bible, (which had always been my travelling companion,)
  read a few chapters in St. Matthew, and found my feelings
  tranquillized, and my courage increased. The desired hour at length
  arrived; when, on waking the old man, he alertly raised himself up,
  and at the first view of the diminished appearance of the earth,
  observed that our journey was a third over, as to time, but not as to
  distance."
After having again composed himself to rest for about four hours,
Atterley was awakened by the Brahmin, in whose arms he found himself,
and, on looking around, discovered that he was lying on what had been
the ceiling of the chamber, which still, however, felt like the
bottom. The reason of this phenomenon was thus explained to him by the
Brahmin--"we have, while you were asleep, passed the middle point
between the earth's and the moon's attraction; and we now gravitate
less towards our own planet than (to) her satellite. I took the
precaution to move you, before you fell by your own gravity, from what
was lately the bottom, to that which is now so, and to keep you in
this place until you were retained in it by the moon's attraction; for
though your fall would have been, at this point, like that of a
feather, yet it would have given you some shock and alarm. The
machine, therefore, has undergone no change in its position or
course;--the change is altogether in our feelings."
The whole face of the moon, Atterley now found to be entirely changed,
and on looking through the upper telescope, the earth presented an
appearance not very dissimilar; but the outline of her continents and
oceans was still perceptible in different shades, and capable of being
readily recognised; the bright glare of the sun, however, made the
surfaces of both bodies somewhat dim and pale.
  "After a short interval, I again looked at the moon, and found not
  only its magnitude very greatly increased, but that it was beginning
  to present a more beautiful spectacle. The sun's rays fell obliquely
  on her disc, so that by a large part of its surface not reflecting the
  light, I saw every object on it, so far as I was enabled by the power
  of my telescope. Its mountains, lakes, seas, continents, and islands,
  were faintly, though not indistinctly, traced; and every moment
  brought forth something new to catch my eye, and awaken my curiosity.
  The whole face of the moon was of a silvery hue, relieved and varied
  by the softest and most delicate shades. No cloud nor speck of vapour
  intercepted my view. One of my exclamations of delight awakened the
  Brahmin, who quickly arose, and looking down on the resplendent orb
  below us, observed that we must soon begin to slacken the rapidity of
  our course, by throwing out ballast. The moon's dimensions now rapidly
  increased; the separate mountains, which formed the ridges and chains
  on her surface, began to be plainly visible through the telescope;
  whilst, on the shaded side, several volcanoes appeared upon her disc,
  like the flashes of our fire-fly, or rather like the twinkling of
  stars in a frosty night. He remarked, that the extraordinary clearness
  and brightness of the objects on the moon's surface, was owing to her
  having a less extensive and more transparent atmosphere than the
  earth: adding--'The difference is so great, that some of our
  astronomical observers have been induced to think she has none. If
  that, however, had been the case, our voyage would have been
  impracticable.'"
After gazing for some time on this magnificent spectacle, with
admiration and delight, one of their balls of _lunarium_ was let
off for the purpose of checking their velocity. At this time the
Brahmin supposed they were not more than four thousand miles from the
nearest point of the moon's surface. In about four hours more, her
apparent magnitude was so great, that they could see her by looking
out of either of the side windows.
  "Her disc had now lost its former silvery appearance, and began to
  look more like that of the earth, when seen at the same distance. It
  was a most gratifying spectacle to behold the objects successively
  rising to our view, and steadily enlarging in their dimensions. The
  rapidity with which we approached the moon, impressed me, in spite of
  myself, with the alarming sensation of falling; and I found myself
  alternately agitated with a sense of this danger, and with impatience
  to take a nearer view of the new objects that greeted my eyes. The
  Brahmin was wholly absorbed in calculations for the purpose of
  adjusting our velocity to the distance we had to go, his estimates of
  which, however, were in a great measure conjectural; and ever and anon
  he would let off a ball of the lunar metal.
  "After a few hours, we were so near the moon that every object was
  seen in our glass, as distinctly as the shells or marine plants
  through a piece of shallow sea-water, though the eye could take in but
  a small part of her surface, and the horizon, which bounded our view,
  was rapidly contracting. On letting the air escape from our machine,
  it did not now rush out with the same violence as before, which showed
  that we were within the moon's atmosphere. This, as well as ridding
  ourselves of the metal balls, aided in checking our progress. By and
  by we were within a few miles of the highest mountains, when we threw
  down so much of our ballast, that we soon appeared almost stationary.
  The Brahmin remarked, that he should avail himself of the currents of
  air we might meet with, to select a favourable place for landing,
  though we were necessarily attracted towards the same region, in
  consequence of the same half of the moon's surface being always turned
  towards the earth."
The Brahmin now pointed out the necessity of looking out for some
cultivated field, in one of the valleys they were approaching, where
they might rely on being not far distant from some human habitation,
and on escaping the perils necessarily attendant on a descent amongst
rocks, trees, and buildings. A gentle breeze now arising, as appeared
by their horizontal motion, which wafted them at the rate of about ten
miles an hour, over a ridge of mountains, a lake, a thick wood, &c.
they at length reached a cultivated region, which the Brahmin
recognised as the country of the Morosofs, the place they were anxious
to visit. By now letting off two balls of lead to the _Earth_,
they descended rapidly; and when they were sufficiently near the
ground to observe that it was a fit place for landing, opened the door
of their Balloon, and found the air of the moon inconceivably sweet
and refreshing. They now let loose one of their lower balls, which
somewhat retarded their descent; and in a few minutes more, being
within twenty yards of the ground, they let go the largest ball of
lunarium, which, having a cord attached to it, served in lieu of a
grapnel; by this they drew themselves down, were disengaged from the
machine in a twinkling, and landed "safe and sound" on, we presume,
"_luna firma!_"
Having seen our travellers securely deposited in the moon, we may
remark, that in the passage from the earth, various topics of an
interesting and important character were canvassed by the Brahmin and
his companion; one, _on the causes of national superiority_,
suggested by the views of Africa, and a comparison between that
benighted country and others more illuminated, is especially worthy of
attention, as containing a condensed and philosophical view of the
subject; eloquently and perspicuously conveyed.
The view of America, suggests some remarks on the _political
peculiarities of the United States_, with speculations on their
future destiny.
A lively description of the contrast between the circumstances of the
Kamtschadale--
    "The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone,"
and the gay, voluptuous native of the Sandwich, and other isles within
the tropics--the one passing his life in toil, privation, and care--the
other in ease, abundance, and enjoyment--leads to a similar conclusion
to that expressed by Goldsmith:--
    "And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
    And estimate the blessings which they share,
    Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find
    An equal portion dealt to all mankind."
A disquisition also takes place--_whether India or Egypt were the
parent of the Arts?_
This leads them to refer to the strange custom in the country of the
Brahmin, which impels the widow to throw herself on the funeral pile,
and be consumed with her husband:--
  "I told him," says Atterley, "that it had often been represented as
  compulsory--or, in other words, that it was said that every art and
  means were resorted to, for the purpose of working on the mind of the
  woman, by her relatives, aided by the priests, who would be naturally
  gratified by such signal triumphs of religion over the strongest
  feelings of nature. He admitted that these engines were sometimes put
  in operation, and that they impelled to the sacrifice, some who were
  wavering; but insisted, that in a majority of instances, the
  _Suttee_ was voluntary.
  "'Women,' said he, 'are brought up from their infancy, to regard our
  sex as their superiors, and to believe that their greatest merit
  consists in entire devotion to their husbands. Under this feeling, and
  having, at the same time, their attention frequently turned to the
  chance of such a calamity, they are better prepared to meet it when it
  occurs. How few of the officers in your western armies, ever hesitate
  to march, at the head of their men, on a forlorn hope? and how many
  even court the danger for the sake of the glory? Nay, you tell me
  that, according to your code of honour, if one man insults another, he
  who gives the provocation, and he who receives it, rather than be
  disgraced in the eyes of their countrymen, will go out, and quietly
  shoot at each other with fire-arms, till one of them is killed or
  wounded; and this too, in many cases, when the injury has been merely
  nominal. If you show such a contempt of death, in deference to a
  custom founded in mere caprice, can it be wondered that a woman should
  show it, in the first paroxysms of her grief for the loss of him to
  whom was devoted every thought, word, and action of her life, and who,
  next to her God, was the object of her idolatry? My dear Atterley,' he
  continued, with emotion, 'you little know the strength of woman's
Other topics of interest are also discussed with the like ingenuity.
After this episode, it is time for us to return to our travellers,
whose feelings, the moment they touched the ground, repayed them for
all they had endured. Atterley looked around with the most intense
curiosity; but nothing he saw, "surprised him so much, as to find so
little that was surprising:"--vegetation, insects, and other animals,
were pretty much of the same character as those he had before seen;
but, on better acquaintance, he found the difference greater than he
had at first supposed. Having refreshed themselves with the remains of
their stores, and secured the door of the machine, they bent their
course to the town of Alamatua, about three miles distant, which
seemed to contain about two thousand houses, and to be not quite as
large as Albany; the people were tall and thin, and of a pale,
yellowish complexion; their garments light, loose, and flowing, and
not very different from those of the Turks; they subsist chiefly on a
vegetable diet, live about as long as we do on the earth,
notwithstanding the great difference of climate, and other
circumstances; and do not, in their manners, habits, or character,
differ more from the inhabitants of this globe, than some of the
latter do from one another; their government, anciently monarchical,
is now popular; their code of laws very intricate; their language,
naturally soft and musical, has been yet further refined by the
cultivation of letters; and they have a variety of sects in religion,
politics, and philosophy.
The lunarians do not, as Butler has it--
    "When the sun shines hot at noon,
    Inhabit cellars under ground,
    Of eight miles deep and eighty round."
But, one half of their houses is beneath the surface, partly for the
purpose of screening them from the continued action of the sun's rays,
and partly on account of the earthquakes caused by volcanoes. The
windows of the houses consisted of openings in the wall, sloping so
much upwards, that, whilst they freely admitted the light and air, the
sun was completely excluded. As soon as they were espied by the
natives, great curiosity was of course excited; not, however, to so
troublesome an extent, as might have been, from the circumstance of
the Brahmin's having visited the moon before. Hence he was soon
recognised by some of his acquaintances, and conducted to the house of
the governor, by whom they were graciously received, and who "began a
course of interesting inquiries regarding the affairs of the earth;"
but a gentleman, whom they afterwards understood to be one of the
leaders of the popular party, coming in, he soon despatched them;
having, however, first directed an officer to furnish them with all
that was necessary for their accommodation, at the public expense;
"which act of hospitality, they had reason to fear, occasioned him
some trouble and perplexity at the succeeding election."
A more minute description follows, of the dress of the male and female
lunarians, especially of that of the latter, to which we can merely
refer the reader. There is one portion, however, of the inhabitants,
with whom the reader must be made acquainted, inasmuch as they form
some of the author's most prominent characters. A large number of
lunarians, it seems, are born without any intellectual vigour, and
wander about like so many automatons, under the care of the
government, until illumined by the mental ray, from some terrestrial
brain, through the mysterious influence which the moon is known to
exercise on our planet. But, in this case, the inhabitant of the earth
loses what he of the moon gains, the ordinary portion of understanding
being divided between two; and, "as might be expected, there is a most
exact conformity between the man of the earth, and his counterpart in
the moon, in all their principles of action, and modes of thinking:"--
  "These Glonglims, as they are called, after they have been thus imbued
  with intellect, are held in peculiar respect by the vulgar, and are
  thought to be in every way superior to those whose understandings are
  entire. The laws by which two objects, so far apart, operate on each
  other, have been, as yet, but imperfectly developed, and the wilder
  their freaks, the more they are the objects of wonder and admiration."
"Now and then, though very rarely, the man of the earth regains the
intellect he has lost; in which case, his lunar counterpart returns to
his former state of imbecility. Both parties are entirely unconscious
of the change--one, of what he has lost, and the other, of what he has
The belief of the influence of the moon on the human intellect, the
Brahmin remarks, may be perceived in the opinions of the vulgar, and
in many of the ordinary forms of expression; and he takes occasion to
remark, that these very opinions, as well as some obscure hints in the
Sanscrit, give countenance to the idea, that they were not the only
voyagers to the moon; but that, on the contrary, the voyage had been
performed in remote antiquity; and the Lunarians, we are told, have a
similar tradition. Many ordinary forms of expression are adduced in
support of these ideas.
"Thus," says the Brahmin, "it is generally believed, throughout all
Asia, that the moon has an influence on the brain: and when a man is
of insane mind, we call him a lunatic. One of the curses of the common
people is, 'May the moon eat up your brains!' and in China, they say
of a man who has done any act of egregious folly, 'He was gathering
wool in the moon.'" I was struck with these remarks; and told the
hermit that the language of Europe afforded the same indirect evidence
of the fact he mentioned,--that my own language, especially, abounded
with expressions which could be explained on no other hypothesis: for,
besides the terms "lunacy," "lunatic," and the supposed influence of
the moon on the brain, when we see symptoms of a disordered intellect,
we say the mind _wanders_, which evidently alludes to a part of
it rambling to a distant region, as is the moon. We say too, a man is
"_out of his head_," that is, his mind being in another man's
head, must of course be out of his own. To "know no more than the man
in the moon," is a proverbial expression for ignorance, and is without
meaning, unless it be considered to refer to the Glonglims.[8]
"We say that an insane man is 'distracted,' by which we mean that his
mind is drawn two different ways. So also, we call a lunatic _a man
beside himself_, which most distinctly expresses the two distinct
bodies his mind now animates. There are, moreover, many other
analogous expressions, as 'moonstruck,' 'deranged,' 'extravagant,' and
some others, which, altogether, form a mass of concurring testimony
that it is impossible to resist."
Leaving this ingenious _badinage_ with the defence of the serious
and sentimental Schiller,
    "Hoher Sinn liegt oft in Kindischen Spiele,"
we return to our travellers, who, at their lodgings, meet with an
instance of _lunar puritanism_--the family eating those portions
of fruits, vegetables, &c., which are thrown away by us, and _vice
versa_, "from a persuasion that all pleasure received through the
senses is sinful, and that man never appears so acceptable in the sight
of the Deity, as when he rejects all the delicacies of the palate, as
well as other sensual gratifications, and imposes on himself that food
to which he feels naturally most repugnant."
_Avarice_ is satirized by the story of one of these Glonglims, who
is occupied in making nails, and then dropping them into a well--refusing
to exchange them for bread or clothes, notwithstanding his starved,
haggard appearance, and evident desire for the food proffered:--
    "Mettant toute sa gloire et son souverain bien
    A grossir un trésor qui ne lui sert de rien."
And this is followed by a picture of _reckless prodigality_ in
another Glonglim.
We pass over the description of the physical peculiarities of the
moon, which seem to be according to the received opinions of
astronomers, as well as the satire on _National Prejudices_, in
the persons of the Hilliboos and Moriboos, and that on the Godwinian
system of morals.
An indisposition experienced by Atterley, occasions his introduction
to Vindar,[9] a celebrated physician, botanist, &c., on whose opinions
we have a keen satire.
On leaving Vindar's house, they observed a short man, (Napoleon,)
preparing to climb to the top of a plane tree, on which there was one
of the tail feathers of a flamingo; and this he would only mount in
one way--on the shoulders of his men:--
  "I could not see this rash Glonglim attempt to climb that dangerous
  ladder, without feeling alarm for his safety. At first all seemed to
  go on very well; but just as he was about to lay hold of the gaudy
  prize, there arose a sudden squall, which threw both him and his
  supporters into confusion, and the whole living pyramid came to the
  ground together. Many were killed--some were wounded and bruised.
  Polenap himself, by lighting on his men, who served him as cushions,
  barely escaped with life. But he received a fracture in the upper part
  of his head, and a dislocation of the hip, which will not only prevent
  him from ever climbing again, but probably make him a cripple for
  "The Brahmin and I endeavoured to give the sufferers some assistance;
  but this was rendered unnecessary, by the crowd which their cries and
  lamentations brought to their relief. I thought that the author of so
  much mischief would have been stoned on the spot; but, to my surprise,
  his servants seemed to feel as much for his honour as their own
  safety, and warmly interfered in his behalf, until they had somewhat
  appeased the rage of the surrounding multitude."
The _absurdities_ of the _physiognomical system_ of Lavater,
and of the _craniological system_ of MM. Gall and Spurzheim, were
not likely to escape animadversion, in a work of general satire,
fruitful as they have already been in such themes. The representative
of the former, is a fortune-telling philosopher, Avarabet, (Lavater,)
whose course of proceeding was, to examine the finger nails, and,
according to their form, colour, thickness, surface, grain, and other
properties, to determine the character and destinies of those who
consulted him; and that of the latter, a physician, who judged of the
character of disposition or disease, by the examination of a lock of
the hair. The upshot of the story is, as might be anticipated, that
the fortune-telling philosopher is caught, and exposed in his own
The _impolicy of privateers, and of letters of marque and
reprisals_, is next animadverted on, by the story of two
neighbours, who are at variance, and whose dependants are occupied in
laying hold of what they can of each other's flocks and herds, and
doing as much mischief as possible, by which both parties, of
necessity, suffer.
A visit to a projector in building, husbandry, and cookery, introduces
us to some inventions not unworthy of the occupation, of the courtiers
of _La Reine Quinte_, or of the Professors of the Academy of
The doctrine of the aerial formation of meteoric stones, receives,
too, a passing notice from our author, who is clearly no supporter of
it. It was a long time before the ancients received credit for their
stories of showers of stones; and all were ready to joke with Butler,
at the story of the Thracian rock, which fell in the river Aegos:--
    "For Anaxagoras, long agon,
    Saw hills, as well as you i'th' moon,
    And held the sun was but a piece
    Of red hot iron as big as Greece.
    Believ'd the heavens were made of stone,
    Because the sun had voided one:
    And, rather than he would recant
    Th' opinion, suffered banishment."
A difficulty surrounds the subject, however we view it.
_Aerolites_, as they have been designated, have now been found in
almost every region and climate of the globe--from Arabia to the
farthest point of Baffin's Bay; and this very circumstance would seem
to be opposed to their aerial origin, unless we are to suppose that
they can be formed in every state, and in the opposite extremes of the
atmosphere. The Brahmin assigns them a lunar origin, and adds, "our
party were greatly amused at the disputations of a learned society in
Europe, in which they undertook to give a mathematical demonstration,
that they could not be thrown from a volcano of the earth, nor from
the moon, but were suddenly formed in the atmosphere. I should as soon
believe, that a loaf of bread could be made and baked in the
atmosphere."
The "gentleman farmer and projector," being attacked, during their
visit, with cholera morbus, and considering himself _in extremis_,
a consultation of physicians takes place, in which one portrait
will be obvious--that of Dr. Shuro, who asserts disease to be
a unit; and that it is the extreme of folly, to divide diseases into
classes, which tend but to produce confusion of ideas, and an
unscientific practice. The enthusiasm of the justly celebrated
individual--the original of this portrait, was so great, that the
slightest data were sufficient for the formation of some of his most
elaborate _hypotheses_--for _theories_ they could not properly
be called; and, accordingly, many of his beautiful and ingenious
superstructures are now prostrated, leaving, in open day, the
insufficiency of their foundation. One of the most striking
examples of this nature, was his belief that the black colour of
the negro is a disease, which depletion, properly exercised, might
be capable of remedying--a scheme not a whit more feasible, than
that of the courtiers of _La Reine Quinte_, referred to by
Rabelais, "who made blackamoors white, as fast as hops, by just
rubbing their stomachs with the bottom of a pannier."
The satire here is not so fortunately displayed, as in other
instances, owing probably to the difficulty of saying any thing new on
so hackneyed a subject; for it has ever happened, that,--
    "The Galenist and Paracelsian,
    Condemn the way each other deals in."
The affair concludes, by the Doctors quarrelling; and, in the mean
time, the patient, profiting by some simple remedies administered by
the Brahmin, and an hour's rest, was so much refreshed, that he
considered himself out of danger, and had no need of medical
_Pestolozzi's system of education_, is with justice satirized;
since, instead of affording facilities to the student, as the
superficial observer might fancy, it retards his acquisition of
knowledge, by teaching him to exercise his external senses, rather
than his reflection.[10]
In a _menagerie_ attached to an academy, in which youths of
maturer years were instructed in the fine arts, the travellers had an
opportunity of observing the vain attempts of education, to control
the natural or instinctive propensities.
    "Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret."
    "For nature driven out, with proud disdain,
    All powerful goddess, will return again."
The election of a town constable, exhibits the violence of _Lunar
Politics_ to be much the same as the terrestrial, and seems to have
some allusion to an existing and important controversy amongst
ourselves. The _prostitution of the press_ is satirized by the
story of a number of boys dressed in black and white--wearing the
badges of the party to which they respectively belong, and each
provided with a syringe and two canteens, the one filled with rose
water, and the other with a black, offensive, fluid: the rose water
being squirted at the favourite candidates and voters--the other fluid
on the opposite party. All these were under regular discipline, and at
the word of command discharged their syringes on friend or foe, as the
case might be.
The "_glorious uncertainty of the law_" (proverbial with us,)
falls also under notice. In Morosofia, it seems, a favourite mode of
settling private disputes, whether concerning person, character, or
property, is by the employment of prize fighters who hire themselves
to the litigants:--
    "And out of foreign controversies
    By aiding both sides, fill their purses:
    But have no int'rest in the cause
    For which th' engage and wage the laws
    Nor farther prospect than their pay
    Whether they lose or win the day."
The chapter concludes with a discussion between an old man and his
wife, in which the _policy of encouraging manufactures_, is
In an account of Okalbia--a happy valley--similar only in name to that
in _Rasselas_, the author seems to sketch his views of a _perfect
commonwealth_, and glances at some important questions of
_politics_ and _political economy_. Prudential restraints are
considered sufficient to obviate a _redundancy of population_--and
on _Ricardo's theory of rent_, the author holds the same opinions
as those already expressed in this Journal.
Some useful hints are also afforded on the subject of _legislation
and jurisprudence_.
After having passed a week amongst the singular and happy Okalbians,
whom our travellers found equally amiable, intelligent, and
hospitable, they returned to Alamatua.
Jeffery's _theory of beauty_, as developed in the article
_beauty_, of the _supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica_,
in which he denies the existence of original beauty and refers
it to association, is ridiculed by an extension of a similar kind
of reasoning to the smell.
A description of a _Lunar fair_ follows, which, like a
terrestrial, is the resort of the busy, the idle, the knavish, and the
gay: some in pursuit of pleasure; others again, without any settled
purpose, carried along by the vague desire of meeting with something
to relieve them from the pain of idleness. _Political contests_
are here represented under the character of gambling transactions, and
if we mistake not, there is a distinct allusion to more than one
important contest in the annals of this country.
Having now satisfied his curiosity, Atterley became anxious to return
to his native planet, and accordingly urged the Brahmin to lose no
time in preparing for their departure. They were soon, however,
informed that a man high in office, by way of affecting political
sagacity, had proposed to detain them, on the ground that when such
voyages as their's were shown to be practicable, the inhabitants of
the earth, who were so much more numerous than those of the moon,
might invade the latter with a large army, for the purpose of rapine
and contest; but notwithstanding the influence of this sapient
politician, they finally obtained leave to quit the moon whenever they
thought proper.
Having taken a "respectful or affectionate" leave of all their
lunarian friends, and got every thing in readiness,--at midnight of
the twentieth of August, they again entered their copper
_balloon_, and after they had ascended until the face of the moon
looked like one vast lake of melted silver, with here and there small
pieces of grayish dross floating on it, Atterley reminded the Brahmin
of a former promise to detail the history of his early life, to which
he assented:--of this, perhaps the most interesting part of the book,
to the general reader, we regret that our limits will only admit of
our giving a very condensed and imperfect narrative.
Gurameer, the Brahmin, was born at Benares. He was the only son of a
priest of Vishnu, of rank, and was himself intended for the
priesthood. At school, he meets with a boy of the name of _Balty
Mahu_, between whom and himself a degree of rivalry, and
subsequently the most decided enmity, existed--a circumstance that
decided the character of Gurameer's subsequent life. They afterwards
met at college, where a more extended theatre was afforded for the
exercise of Balty Mahu's malignity. During a vacation, Gurameer, being
on a visit to an uncle in the country, one day, when the family had
gone to witness a grand spectacle in honour of an important festival
in their calendar, which he could not himself attend consistently with
the rules of his caste, was tempted to visit the deserted Zenana, or
ladies' apartment, where he accidentally meets with a beautiful young
female. The acquaintance, thus begun, soon ripened into intimacy, by
means of walks in the garden, contrived by Fatima, one of his female
cousins. At length they are constrained to separate. Veenah (for so
the young lady is named) returns to Benares, whither Gurameer soon
follows her. On making his father acquainted with his attachment, the
latter endeavours to persuade him to overcome it, and informs him that
Veenah's father is avaricious, and a bigot, and hence, that he would
probably be prejudiced against him, owing to some imputations which
had been cast on Gurameer's religious creed, and industriously
circulated by his old enemy, Balty Mahu, who proves to be the cousin
of Veenah These considerations prevail upon Gurameer to defer any
application to Veenah's father, until the suspicions regarding his
faith had either died away or been falsified by his scrupulous
observance of all religious duties. This resolution he determines to
communicate to his mistress. Accordingly, in the evening, he betakes
himself to the quarter of the city where Veenah's father lives; and,
walking to and fro before the house, soon discovers that he is
recognised. By a cord, let down from the window, he conveys a letter
to her, which, the following evening, she answers; and thus a regular
correspondence was kept up, which, by the exercise it afforded to
their imaginations, and the difficulties attendant upon it, inflamed
their passion to the highest pitch. He had, however, soon the
misfortune to be discovered by Balty Mahu, and, in consequence, Veenah
is debarred from pen and ink, but contrives to acquaint her lover that
their intercourse has been discovered, by a short note, written with a
burnt stick. Gurameer now goes in despair to Veenah's father, from
whom he experiences a haughty repulse, and who, in the following
night, secretly leaves the city, with his daughter, embarking on the
Ganges, and taking measures to prevent the discovery of the place of
his retreat. At the expiration of two or three months, an end is put
to Gurameer's doubts and apprehensions, by his return, with his
daughter and son-in-law--a rich Omrah, four times her age. After the
first ebullitions of rage have subsided, his love returns; but he is
never able to succeed in obtaining an interview with Veenah. By his
cousin Fatima, he learns the circumstances of Veenah's marriage, and
the deceptions which had been practised on her, aided by the unbounded
authority which parents exercise in eastern countries. The unhappy
Veenah, as firm in her principles as she was gentle in disposition,
refuses to see him. "Tell him," said she, "that Heaven has forbidden
it, and to its decrees we are bound to submit I am now the wife of
another, and it is our duty to forget all that is past. But if this be
possible, my heart tells me it can be only by our never meeting!"
Gurameer now fell into a state of settled melancholy, and consented to
travel, more for the purpose of pleasing his parents, than from any
concern for his own health; but travelling had little effect--"he
carried a barbed arrow in his heart; and the greater the efforts to
extract it, the more they rankled the wound." When so much emaciated
that he was not expected to live a month, he took a voyage, coastwise,
to Madras; and, on his arrival there, learned that Balty Mahu had
recently left that place. This intelligence operated like a charm; the
desire of revenge roused all his energies and became his master
passion. He immediately set off in pursuit; but, although often near,
could never overtake him. His health rapidly improves; and at length
he hears that the old Omrah's health is rapidly declining. This
information awakens new thoughts and hopes, and Balty Mahu is
forgotten. He hastens hack to Benares; and when near the city, hears
two merchants, in conversation, remark that the Omrah is dead, and
that his widow was the next day to perform the _Suttee_. He
immediately mounts his horse, and reaches the city the next morning at
sunrise. In the street he mixes with the throng;--hears Veenah pitied,
her father blamed, and himself lamented. He now sees Veenah approach
the funeral pile, who, at the well known sound of his voice, shrieked
out, "he lives! he lives!" and would have attempted to save herself
from the flames; but the shouts of the surrounding multitude, and the
sound of the instruments, drowned her voice. He now attempts to
approach the pile for the purpose of rescuing her, but is forcibly
held back until the wretched Veenah is enveloped in flames. On his
again attempting to reach the pile, he was charged with profanation;
and, on Balty Mahu's making his appearance and encouraging the charge,
in frantic desperation he seizes a scymetar from one of the guards,
and plunges it in his breast. The influence of his friends, and the
sacred character of persons of his caste, saved the Brahmin from
capital punishment; but he was banished from Hindostan. He now removed
to the kingdom of Ava, where he continued so long as his parents
lived, after which he visited several countries, both of Asia and
Europe; and in one of his journeys, having discovered Lunarium Ore in
the mountain near Mogaun, he determined to pass the remainder of his
days in that secluded retreat.--"So ends this strange, eventful
When the Brahmin terminated his narrative, the extended map beneath
them was already assuming a distinct and varied appearance:--
  "The Brahmin, having applied his eye to the telescope, and made a
  brief calculation of our progress, considered that twenty-four hours
  more, if no accident interrupted us, would end our voyage; part of
  which interval I passed in making notes in my journal, and in
  contemplating the different sections of our many peopled globe, as
  they presented themselves successively to the eye. It was my wish to
  land on the American continent, and, if possible, in the United
  States. But the Brahmin put an end to that hope, by reminding me that
  we should be attracted towards the Equator, and that we had to choose
  between Asia, Africa, and South America; and that our only course
  would be, to check the progress of our car over the country of
  greatest extent, through which the equinoctial circle might pass.
  Saying which, he relapsed into his melancholy silence, and I betook
  myself once more to the telescope. With a bosom throbbing with
  emotion, I saw that we were descending towards the American continent.
  When we were about ten or twelve miles from the earth, the Brahmin
  arrested the progress of the car, and we hovered over the broad
  Atlantic. Looking down on the ocean, the first object which presented
  itself to my eye, was a small one-masted shallop, which was buffetting
  the waves in a south-westerly direction. I presumed it was a
  New-England trader, on a voyage to some part of the Republic of
  Colombia: and, by way of diverting my friend from his melancholy
  reverie, I told him some of the many stories which are current
  respecting the enterprise and ingenuity of this portion of my
  countrymen, and above all, their adroitness at a bargain.
  "'Methinks,' says the Brahmin, 'you are describing a native of Canton
  or Pekin. But,' added he, after a short pause, 'though to a
  superficial observer man appears to put on very different characters,
  to a philosopher he is every where the same--for he is every where
  moulded by the circumstances in which he is placed. Thus; let him be
  in a situation that is propitious to commerce, and the habits of
  traffic produce in him shrewdness and address. Trade is carried on
  chiefly in towns, because it is there carried on most advantageously.
  This situation gives the trader a more intimate knowledge of his
  species--a more ready insight into character, and of the modes of
  operating on it. His chief purpose is to buy as cheap, and to sell as
  dear, as he can; and he is often able to heighten the recommendations
  or soften the defects of some of the articles in which he deals,
  without danger of immediate detection; or, in other words, big
  representations have some influence with his customers. He avails
  himself of this circumstance, and thus acquires the habit of lying;
  but, as he is studious to conceal it, he becomes wary, ingenious, and
  cunning. It is thus that the Phenicians, the Carthagenians, the Dutch,
  the Chinese, the New-Englanders, and the modern Greeks, have always
  been regarded as inclined to petty frauds by their less commercial
  neighbours.' I mentioned the English nation.
  "'If the English,' said he, interrupting me; 'who are the most
  commercial people of modern times, have not acquired the same
  character, it is because they are as distinguished for other things as
  for traffic: they are not merely a commercial people--they are also
  agricultural, warlike, and literary; and thus the natural tendencies
  of commerce are mutually counteracted.'
  "We afterwards descended slowly; the prospect beneath us becoming more
  beautiful than my humble pen can hope to describe, or will even
  attempt to portray. In a short time after, we were in sight of
  Venezuela. We met with the trade winds and were carried by them forty
  or fifty miles inland, where, with some difficulty, and even danger,
  we landed. The Brahmin and myself remained together two days, and
  parted--he to explore the Andes, to obtain additional light on the
  subject of his hypothesis, and I, on the wings of impatience, to visit
  once more my long-deserted family and friends. But before our
  separation, I assisted my friend in concealing our aerial vessel, and
  received a promise from him to visit, and perhaps spend with me the
  evening of his life. Of my journey home, little remains to be said.
  From the citizens of Colombia, I experienced kindness and attention,
  and means of conveyance to Caraccas; where, embarking on board the
  brig Juno, captain Withers, I once more set foot in New-York, on the
  18th of August, 1826, after an absence of four years, resolved, for
  the rest of my life, to travel only in books, and persuaded, from
  experience, that the satisfaction which the wanderer gains from
  actually beholding the wonders and curiosities of distant climes, is
  dearly bought by the sacrifice of all the comforts and delights of
We have thus placed before the reader an analysis of this interesting
Satirical Romance. The time and space we have occupied sufficiently
indicate the favourable sentiments respecting it with which we have
been impressed. Of the execution of the satires, from the several
extracts we have given, the reader will himself be enabled to judge.
This is of course unequal, but generally felicitous. In the personal
allusions which occur through the work, the author exhibits, as we
have before noticed, a freedom from malice and all uncharitableness,
and in many of them has attained that happy _desideratum_ which
Dryden considered a matter of so much difficulty:--
  "How easy is it," he observes, "to call rogue and villain, and that
  wittily! But how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a
  knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms! To spare the
  grossness of the names, and to do the thing yet more severely, is to
  draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet
  not to employ any depth of shadowing. This is the mystery of that
  noble trade, which yet no master can teach to his apprentice; he may
  give the rules, but the scholar is never the nearer in his practice;
  neither is it true, that this fineness of raillery is offensive. A
  witty man is tickled, while he is hurt, in this manner, and a fool
  feels it not: the occasion of an offence may possibly be given, but he
  cannot take it. If it be granted, that, in effect, this way does more
  mischief--that a man is secretly wounded, and, though he be not
  sensible himself, yet the malicious world will find it out for him,
  yet, there is still a vast difference betwixt the slovenly butchering
  of a man, and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head from
  the body, and leaves it standing in its place. A man may be capable,
  as Jack Ketch's wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of work, a
  bare hanging; but to make a malefactor die sweetly, was only belonging
  to her husband."[11]
In conclusion, we must express our regret, that the author should not
have added notes to the work--the want of them will be seriously felt
by every one; some of the satires, indeed, must escape the reader,
unless he pay a degree of attention, which notes would have rendered
unnecessary. In his next edition, we trust that this deficiency may be
supplied; and we anticipate as much instruction and entertainment,
from the wide scope which such an undertaking will afford, as we have
derived from the perusal of the text. Cheerfully would we extend to
him, if required, the leisure claimed by Spenser, after he had
composed the first six books of his "_Faerie Queene_," provided
he would promise us similar conditions:--
    "After so long a race as I have run
      Through Faery Land, which those six books compile,
    Give leave to rest me, being half foredonne,
      And gather to myself new breath awhile;
    "Then, as a steed refreshed after toyle,
      Out of my prison will I break anew,
    And stoutly will that second work assoyle,
      With strong endeavour, and attention due."
       *       *       *       *       *
[APPENDIX FOOTNOTES]
[Footnote 1: Scott's Swift, vol. xi. p. 4]
[Footnote 2: Aristoph. in Pace. 130.]
[Footnote 3: Orlando furioso, Canto xxxiv. St. 68 and 69.]
[Footnote 4: Micromègas, Histoire Philosophique, chap. 8.]
[Footnote 5: Fuller, a learned contemporary of the Bishop, has given
us an amusing case of litigation, originating from this nourishing
character of odours.--
"A poor man, being very hungry, staid so long in a cook's shop, who
was dishing up meat, that his stomach was satisfied with only the
smell thereof. The choleric cook demanded of him to pay for his
breakfast, the poor man denied having had any; and the controversy was
referred to the deciding of the next man that should pass by, who
chanced to be the most notorious idiot in the whole city be, on the
relation of the matter, determined that the poor man's money should be
put betwixt two empty dishes, and the cook should be recompensed with
the jingling of the poor man's money, as he was satisfied with the
smell of the cook's meat."--_Fuller's Holy State_, lib. iii. c.
[Footnote 6: Aristophan. in pace. 137.]
[Footnote 7: The idea of the Glonglims is the author's. Ariosto makes
the lost intellect, of those who become insane upon the earth, ascend
to the moon, where it is kept _bottled_.--
    "Era come un liquor suttile e molle,
    Atto a esalar, se non si tien ben chiuso;
    E si vedea raccolto in varie ampolle,
    Qual più, qual men capace, atte a quell' uso."
                  _Orlando furioso_, Cant. 34. St. 83.]
[Footnote 8: Our author might also have alluded to the old apology for
every thing inane or contemptible--"It is a tale of the man in the
moon." When that arch flatterer, John Lylie, published (in 1591) his
"_Endymion_, or _the man in the moon_"--a _court comedy_, as it
was afterwards called; in other words, intended for the gratification
of Queen Elizabeth, and in which her personal charms and attractions
are grossly lauded--he pleads guilty to its defect in plot, in the
following exquisite apologetic prologue:--
"Most high and happy Princess, we must tell you a tale of the man in
the moon; which, if it seem ridiculous for the method, or superfluous
for the matter, or for the means incredible, for three faults we can
make but one excuse,--it is a tale of the man of the moon."
"It was forbidden in old time to dispute of Chymera, because it was a
fiction: we hope in our times none will apply pastimes, because they
are fancies: for there liveth none under the sun that knows what to
make of the man in the moon. We present neither comedy, nor tragedy,
nor story, nor any thing, but that whosoever heareth may say this:--
'Why, here is a tale of the man in the moon.' Yet this is the man
designated by Blount, who re-published his plays in 1632, as the '_only
rare poet of that time, the witie, comicall, facetiously-quicke, and
unparallel'd John Lylie, Master of Arts!'"]
[Footnote 9: It is to be regretted that the author has not followed
the good example set him by Johnson, in his _Debates in the Senate
of Magna Lilliputia_, published in the Gentlemen's Magazine for
1738: the denominations of the speakers being formed of the letters of
their real names, so that they might be easily deciphered. This
neglect has obscured many of the author's most interesting satires.
Who could suppose from the letters alone, that _Wigurd_, _Vindar_,
and _Avarabet_, were respectively intended for _Godwin_, _Darwin_,
and _Lavater_?]
[Footnote 10: It is a curious circumstance, that Swift, in his
description of the Academy of Lagado, should have so completely
anticipated the Pestalozzian invention.]
[Footnote 11: Dryden's Essay on Satire]
and PG Distributed Proofreaders
                      A
             VOYAGE TO THE MOON:
                     WITH
                 SOME ACCOUNT
                    OF THE
  MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY,
                    OF THE
              PEOPLE OF MOROSOFIA,
                     AND
                OTHER LUNARIANS.
        BY GEORGE TUCKER (JOSEPH ATTERLEY)
    "It is the very error of the moon,
    She comes more near the earth than she was wont,
    And makes men mad."--_Othello_.
                    1827
     CONTENTS.
     CHAPTER I.
Atterley's birth and education--He makes a voyage--
  Founders off the Burman coast--Adventures in
  that Empire--Meets with a learned Brahmin from
     CHAPTER II.
The Brahmin's illness--He reveals an important secret
  to Atterley--Curious information concerning the
  Moon--The Glonglims--They plan a voyage to
     CHAPTER III.
The Brahmin and Atterley prepare for their voyage--
  Description of their travelling machine--Incidents
  of the voyage--The appearance of the earth;
  Africa; Greece--The Brahmin's speculations on
  the different races of men--National character.
     CHAPTER IV.
Continuation of the voyage--View of Europe; Atlantic
  Ocean; America--Speculations on the future
  destiny of the United States--Moral reflections--
  Pacific Ocean--Hypothesis on the origin of the
     CHAPTER V.
The voyage continued--Second view of Asia--The
  Brahmin's speculations concerning India--Increase
  of the Moon's attraction--Appearance of the Moon
  --They land on the Moon.
     CHAPTER VI.
Some account of Morosofia, and its chief city, Alamatua
  --Singular dresses of the Lunar ladies--Religious
  self-denial--Glonglim miser and spendthrift.
     CHAPTER VII.
Physical peculiarities of the Moon--Celestial phenomena
  --Farther description of the Lunarians--National
  prejudice--Lightness of bodies--The Brahmin
  carries Atterley to sup with a philosopher--
  His character and opinions.
     CHAPTER VIII.
A celebrated physician: his ingenious theories in physics:
  his mechanical inventions--The feather-hunting Glonglim.
     CHAPTER IX.
The fortune-telling philosopher, who inspected the
  finger nails: his visiters--Another philosopher,
  who judged of the character by the hair--The
  fortune-teller duped--Predatory warfare.
     CHAPTER X.
The travellers visit a gentleman farmer, who is a great
  projector: his breed of cattle: his apparatus for
  cooking--He is taken dangerously ill.
     CHAPTER XI.
Lunarian physicians: their consultation--While they
  dispute the patient recovers--The travellers visit
  the celebrated teacher Lozzi Pozzi.
     CHAPTER XII.
Election of the Numnoonce, or town-constable--
  Violence of parties--Singular institution of the Syringe
  Boys--The prize-fighters--Domestic manufactures.
     CHAPTER XIII.
Description of the Happy Valley--The laws, customs,
  and manners of the Okalbians--Theory of population
  --Rent--System of government.
     CHAPTER XIV.
Further account of Okalbia--The Field of Roses--
  Curious superstition concerning that flower--The
  pleasures of smell traced to association, by a
  Glonglim philosopher.
     CHAPTER XV.
Atterley goes to the great monthly fair--Its various
  exhibitions; difficulties--Preparations to leave the
  Moon--Curiosities procured by Atterley--Regress
  to the Earth.
     CHAPTER XVI.
The Brahmin gives Atterley a history of his life.
     CHAPTER XVII.
The Brahmin's story continued--The voyage concluded
  --Atterley and the Brahmin separate--Atterley
  arrives in New-York.
 Appendix: Anonymous Review of _A Voyage to the
     Moon,_ reprinted from _The American Quarterly
     Review_ No. 5 (March 1828)
APPEAL TO THE PUBLIC.
Having, by a train of fortunate circumstances, accomplished a voyage, of
which the history of mankind affords no example; having, moreover, exerted
every faculty of body and mind, to make my adventures useful to my
countrymen, and even to mankind, by imparting to them the acquisition
of secrets in physics and morals, of which they had not formed the
faintest conception,--I flattered myself that both in the character
of traveller and public benefactor, I had earned for myself an immortal
name. But how these fond, these justifiable hopes have been answered,
the following narrative will show.
On my return to this my native State, as soon as it was noised abroad
that I had met with extraordinary adventures, and made a most wonderful
voyage, crowds of people pressed eagerly to see me. I at first met their
inquiries with a cautious silence, which, however, but sharpened their
curiosity. At length I was visited by a near relation, with whom I felt
less disposed to reserve. With friendly solicitude he inquired "how much
I had made by my voyage;" and when he was informed that, although I had
added to my knowledge, I had not improved my fortune, he stared at me a
while, and remarking that he had business at the Bank, as well as an
appointment on 'Change, suddenly took his leave. After this, I was not
much interrupted by the tribe of inquisitive idlers, but was visited
principally by a few men of science, who wished to learn what I could
add to their knowledge of nature. To this class I was more communicative;
and when I severally informed them that I had actually been to the
Moon, some of them shrugged their shoulders, others laughed in my face,
and some were angry at my supposed attempt to deceive them; but all,
with a single exception, were incredulous.
It was to no purpose that I appealed to my former character for veracity.
I was answered, that travelling had changed my morals, as it had changed
other people's. I asked what motives I could have for attempting to
deceive them. They replied, the love of distinction--the vanity of being
thought to have seen what had been seen by no other mortal; and they
triumphantly asked me in turn, what motives Raleigh, and Riley, and
Hunter, and a hundred other travellers, had for their misrepresentations.
Finding argument thus unavailing, I produced visible and tangible proofs
of the truth of my narrative. I showed them a specimen of moonstone.
They asserted that it was of the same character as those meteoric stones
which had been found in every part of the world, and that I had merely
procured a piece of one of these for the purpose of deception. I then
exhibited some of what I considered my most curious Lunar plants: but
this made the matter worse; for it so happened, that similar ones were
then cultivated in Mr. Prince's garden at Flushing. I next produced
some rare insects, and feathers of singular birds: but persons were
found who had either seen, or read, or heard of similar insects and
birds in Hoo-Choo, or Paraguay, or Prince of Wales's Island. In short,
having made up their minds that what I said was not true, they had an
answer ready for all that I could urge in support of my character; and
those who judged most christianly, defended my veracity at the expense
of my understanding, and ascribed my conduct to partial insanity.
There was, indeed, a short suspension to this cruel distrust. An old
friend coming to see me one day, and admiring a beautiful crystal which
I had brought from the Moon, insisted on showing it to a jeweller, who
said that it was an unusually hard stone, and that if it were a diamond,
it would be worth upwards of 150,000 dollars. I know not whether the
mistake that ensued proceeded from my friend, who is something of a wag,
or from one of the lads in the jeweller's shop, who, hearing a part of
what his master had said, misapprehended the rest; but so it was, that
the next day I had more visiters than ever, and among them my kinsman,
who was kind enough to stay with me, as if he enjoyed my good fortune,
until both the Exchange and the Banks were closed. On the same day,
the following paragraph appeared in one of the morning prints:
    "We understand that our enterprising and intelligent traveller,
    JOSEPH ATTERLEY, Esquire, has brought from his Lunar Expedition,
    a diamond of extraordinary size and lustre. Several of the most
    experienced jewellers of this city have estimated it at from
    250,000 to 300,000 dollars; and some have gone so far as to say
    it would be cheap at half a million. We have the authority of a
    near relative of that gentleman for asserting, that the satisfactory
    testimonials which he possesses of the correctness of his narrative,
    are sufficient to satisfy the most incredulous, and to silence
    malignity itself."
But this gleam of sunshine soon passed away. Two days afterwards, another
paragraph appeared in the same paper, in these words:
    "We are credibly informed, that the supposed diamond of the _famous_
    traveller to the Moon, turns out to be one of those which are found
    on Diamond Island, in Lake George. We have heard that Mr. A----y
    means to favour the public with an account of his travels, under
    the title of 'Lunarian Adventures;' but we would take the liberty
    of recommending, that for _Lunarian_, he substitute _Lunatic_."
Thus disappointed in my expectations, and assailed in my character,
what could I do but appeal to an impartial public, by giving them a
circumstantial detail of what was most memorable in my adventures, that
they might judge, from intrinsic evidence, whether I was deficient either
in soundness of understanding or of moral principle? But let me first
bespeak their candour, and a salutary diffidence of themselves, by one
or two well-authenticated anecdotes.
During the reign of Louis the XIVth, the king of Siam having received
an ambassador from that monarch, was accustomed to hear, with wonder
and delight, the foreigner's descriptions of his own country: but the
minister having one day mentioned, that in France, water, at one time
of the year, became a solid substance, the Siamese prince indignantly
exclaimed,--"Hold, sir! I have listened to the strange things you have
told me, and have hitherto believed them all; but now when you wish to
persuade me that water, which I know as well as you, can become hard, I
see that your purpose is to deceive me, and I do not believe a word you
have uttered."
But as the present patriotic preference for home-bred manufactures, may
extend to anecdotes as well as to other productions, a story of domestic
origin may have more weight with most of my readers, than one introduced
from abroad.
The chief of a party of Indians, who had visited Washington during
Mr. Jefferson's presidency, having, on his return home, assembled his
tribe, gave them a detail of his adventures; and dwelling particularly
upon the courteous treatment the party had received from their "Great
Father," stated, among other things, that he had given them ice, though
it was then mid-summer. His countrymen, not having the vivacity of our
ladies, listened in silence till he had ended, when an aged chief stepped
forth, and remarked that he too, when a young man, had visited their
Great Father Washington, in New-York, who had received him as a son, and
treated him with all the delicacies that his country afforded, but had
given him no ice. "Now," added the orator, "if any man in the world could
have made ice in the summer, it was Washington; and if he could have made
it, I am sure he would have given it to me. Tustanaggee is, therefore, a
liar, and not to be believed."
In both these cases, though the argument seemed fair, the conclusion was
false; for had either the king or the chief taken the trouble to satisfy
himself of the fact, he might have found that his limited experience had
deceived him.
It is unquestionably true, that if travellers sometimes impose on the
credulity of mankind, they are often also not believed when they speak
the truth. Credulity and scepticism are indeed but different names for
the same hasty judgment on insufficient evidence: and, as the old woman
readily assented that there might be "mountains of sugar and rivers
of rum," because she had seen them both, but that there were "fish
which could fly," she never would believe; so thousands give credit
to Redheiffer's patented discovery of perpetual motion, because they
had beheld his machine, and question the existence of the sea-serpent,
because they have not seen it.
I would respectfully remind that class of my readers, who, like the
king, the Indian, or the old woman, refuse to credit any thing which
contradicts the narrow limits of their own observation, that there are
"more secrets in nature than are dreamt of in their philosophy;" and
that upon their own principles, before they have a right to condemn me,
they should go or send to the mountains of Ava, for some of the metal
with which I made my venturous experiment, and make one for themselves.
As to those who do not call in question my veracity, but only doubt my
sanity, I fearlessly appeal from their unkind judgment to the sober and
unprejudiced part of mankind, whether, what I have stated in the following
pages, is not consonant with truth and nature, and whether they do not
there see, faithfully reflected from the Moon, the errors of the learned
on Earth, and "the follies of the wise?"
JOSEPH ATTERLEY.
_Long-Island, September_, 1827.
VOYAGE TO THE MOON.
_Atterley's birth and education--He makes a voyage--Founders off the
Burman coast--Adventures in that Empire--Meets with a learned Brahmin
from Benares._
Being about to give a narrative of my singular adventures to the world,
which, I foresee, will be greatly divided about their authenticity,
I will premise something of my early history, that those to whom I am
not personally known, may be better able to ascertain what credit is
due to the facts which rest only on my own assertion.
I was born in the village of Huntingdon, on Long-Island, on the 11th day
of May, 1786. Joseph Atterley, my father, formerly of East Jersey, as it
was once called, had settled in this place about a year before, in
consequence of having married my mother, Alice Schermerhorn, the only
daughter of a snug Dutch farmer in the neighbourhood. By means of the
portion he received with my mother, together with his own earnings,
he was enabled to quit the life of a sailor, to which he had been bred,
and to enter into trade. After the death of his father-in-law, by whose
will he received a handsome accession to his property, he sought, in the
city of New-York, a theatre better suited to his enlarged capital. He
here engaged in foreign trade; and, partaking of the prosperity which
then attended American commerce, he gradually extended his business, and
finally embarked in our new branch of traffic to the East Indies and
China. He was now very generally respected, both for his wealth and fair
dealing; was several years a director in one of the insurance offices;
was president of the society for relieving the widows and orphans of
distressed seamen; and, it is said, might have been chosen alderman,
if he had not refused, on the ground that he did not think himself
My father was not one of those who set little value on book learning,
from their own consciousness of not possessing it: on the contrary, he
would often remark, that as he felt the want of a liberal education
himself, he was determined to bestow one on me. I was accordingly, at
an early age, put to a grammar school of good repute in my native village,
the master of which, I believe, is now a member of Congress; and, at the
age of seventeen, was sent to Princeton, to prepare myself for some
profession. During my third year at that place, in one of my excursions
to Philadelphia, and for which I was always inventing pretexts, I became
acquainted with one of those faces and forms which, in a youth of twenty,
to see, admire, and love, is one and the same thing. My attentions were
favourably received. I soon became desperately in love; and, in spite of
the advice of my father and entreaties of my mother, who had formed other
schemes for me nearer home, I was married on the anniversary of my
twenty-first year.
It was not until the first trance of bliss was over, that I began to
think seriously on the course of life I was to pursue. From the time
that my mind had run on love and matrimony, I had lost all relish for
serious study; and long before that time, I had felt a sentiment bordering
on contempt for the pursuits of my father. Besides, he had already taken
my two younger brothers into the counting-house with him. I therefore
prevailed on my indulgent parent, with the aid of my mother's intercession,
to purchase for me a neat country-seat near Huntingdon, which presented a
beautiful view of the Sound, and where, surrounded by the scenes of my
childhood, I promised myself to realise, with my Susanna, that life of
tranquil felicity which fancy, warmed by love, so vividly depicts.
If we did not meet with all that we had expected, it was because we had
expected too much. The happiest life, like the purest atmosphere, has
its clouds as well as its sunshine; and what is worse, we never fully
know the value of the one, until we have felt the inconvenience of the
other. In the cultivation of my farm--in educating our children, a son
and two daughters, in reading, music, painting--and in occasional visits
to our friends in New-York and Philadelphia, seventeen years glided
swiftly and imperceptibly away; at the end of which time death, in
depriving me of an excellent wife, made a wreck of my hopes and enjoyments.
For the purpose of seeking that relief to my feelings which change of
place only could afford, I determined to make a sea voyage; and, as one
of my father's vessels was about to sail for Canton, I accordingly
embarked on board the well-known ship the _Two Brothers_, captain
Thomas, and left Sandy-hook on the 5th day of June, 1822, having first
placed my three children under the care of my brother William.
I will not detain the reader with a detail of the first incidents of
our voyage, though they were sufficiently interesting at the time they
occurred, and were not wanting in the usual variety. We had, in singular
succession, dead calms and fresh breezes, stiff gales and sudden squalls;
saw sharks, flying-fish, and dolphins; spoke several vessels: had a
visit from Neptune when we crossed the Line, and were compelled to
propitiate his favour with some gallons of spirits, which he seems
always to find a very agreeable change from sea water; and touched at
Table Bay and at Madagascar.
On the whole, our voyage was comparatively pleasant and prosperous, until
the 24th of October; when, off the mouths of the Ganges, after a fine
clear autumnal day, just about sunset, a small dark speck was seen in
the eastern horizon by our experienced and watchful captain, who, after
noticing it for a few moments, pronounced that we should have a hurricane.
The rapidity with which this speck grew into a dense cloud, and spread
itself in darkness over the heavens, as well as the increasing swell of
the ocean before we felt the wind, soon convinced us he was right. No
time was lost in lowering our topmasts, taking double reefs, and making
every thing snug, to meet the fury of the tempest. I thought I had
already witnessed all that was terrific on the ocean; but what I had
formerly seen, had been mere child's play compared with this. Never can
I forget the impression that was made upon me by the wild uproar of the
elements. The smooth, long swell of the waves gradually changed into an
agitated frothy surface, which constant flashes of lightning presented
to us in all its horror; and in the mean time the wind whistled through
the rigging, and the ship creaked as if she was every minute going to
About midnight the storm was at its height, and I gave up all for lost.
The wind, which first blew from the south-west, was then due south, and
the sailors said it began to abate a little before day: but I saw no
great difference until about three in the afternoon; soon after which
the clouds broke away, and showed us the sun setting in cloudless majesty,
while the billows still continued their stupendous rolling, but with a
heavy movement, as if, after such mighty efforts, they were seeking
repose in the bosom of their parent ocean. It soon became almost calm;
a light western breeze barely swelled our sails, and gently wafted us
to the land, which we could faintly discern to the north-east. Our ship
had been so shaken in the tempest, and was so leaky, that captain Thomas
thought it prudent to make for the first port we could reach.
At dawn we found ourselves in full view of a coast, which, though not
personally known to the captain, he pronounced by his charts to be a
part of the Burmese Empire, and in the neighbourhood of Mergui, on the
Martaban coast. The leak had now increased to an alarming extent, so
that we found it would be impossible to carry the ship safe into port.
We therefore hastily threw our clothes, papers, and eight casks of
silver, into the long-boat; and before we were fifty yards from the
ship, we saw her go down. Some of the underwriters in New York, as I
have since learnt, had the conscience to contend that we left the ship
sooner than was necessary, and have suffered themselves to be sued for
the sums they had severally insured. It was a little after midday when
we reached the town, which is perched on a high bluff, overlooking
the coasts, and contains about a thousand houses, built of bamboo,
and covered with palm leaves. Our dress, appearance, language, and
the manner of our arrival, excited great surprise among the natives,
and the liveliest curiosity; but with these sentiments some evidently
mingled no very friendly feelings. The Burmese were then on the eve
of a rupture with the East India Company, a fact which we had not before
known; and mistaking us for English, they supposed, or affected to
suppose, that we belonged to a fleet which was about to invade them,
and that our ship had been sunk before their eyes, by the tutelar divinity
of the country. We were immediately carried before their governor,
or chief magistrate, who ordered our baggage to be searched, and finding
that it consisted principally of silver, he had no doubt of our hostile
intentions. He therefore sent all of us, twenty-two in number, to prison,
separating, however, each one from the rest. My companions were released
the following spring, as I have since learnt, by the invading army of
Great Britain; but it was my ill fortune (if, indeed, after what has
since happened, I can so regard it) to be taken for an officer of high
rank, and to be sent, the third day afterwards, far into the interior,
that I might be more safely kept, and either used as a hostage or offered
for ransom, as circumstances should render advantageous.
The reader is, no doubt, aware that the Burman Empire lies beyond the
Ganges, between the British possessions and the kingdom of Siam; and
that the natives nearly assimilate with those of Hindostan, in language,
manners, religion, and character, except that they are more hardy and
I was transported very rapidly in a palanquin, (a sort of decorated
litter,) carried on the shoulders of four men, who, for greater despatch,
were changed every three hours. In this way I travelled thirteen days,
in which time we reached a little village in the mountainous district
between the Irawaddi and Saloon rivers, where I was placed under the
care of an inferior magistrate, called a Mirvoon, who there exercised
the chief authority.
This place, named Mozaun, was romantically situated in a fertile valley,
that seemed to be completely shut in by the mountains. A small river,
a branch of the Saloon, entered it from the west, and, after running
about four miles in nearly a straight direction, turned suddenly round
a steep hill to the south, and was entirely lost to view. The village
was near a gap in the mountain, through which the river seemed to have
forced its way, and consisted of about forty or fifty huts, built of
the bamboo cane and reeds. The house of my landlord was somewhat larger
and better than the rest. It stood on a little knoll that overlooked
the village, the valley, the stream that ran through it, and commanded
a distant view of the country beyond the gap. It was certainly a lovely
little spot, as it now appears to my imagination; but when the landscape
was new to me, I was in no humour to relish its beauties, and when my
mind was more in a state to appreciate them, they had lost their novelty.
My keeper, whose name was Sing Fou, and who, from a long exercise of
magisterial authority, was rough and dictatorial, behaved to me somewhat
harshly at first; but my patient submission so won his confidence and
good will, that I soon became a great favourite; was regarded more as
one of his family than as a prisoner, and was allowed by him every
indulgence consistent with my safe custody. But the difficulties in the
way of my escape were so great, that little restraint was imposed on
my motions. The narrow defile in the gap, through which the river rushed
like a torrent, was closed with a gate. The mountains, by which the
valley was hemmed in, were utterly impassable, thickly set as they were
with jungle, consisting of tangled brier, thorn and forest trees, of
which those who have never been in a tropical climate can form no adequate
idea. In some places it would be difficult to penetrate more than a
mile in the day; during which time the traveller would be perpetually
tormented by noxious insects, and in constant dread of beasts of prey.
The only outlet from this village was by passing down the valley along
the settlements, and following the course of the stream; so that there
was no other injunction laid on me, than not to extend my rambles far
in that direction. Sing Fou's household consisted of his wife, whom I
rarely saw, four small children, and six servants; and here I enjoyed
nearly as great a portion of happiness as in any part of my life.
It had been one of my favourite amusements to ramble towards a part of
the western ridge, which rose in a cone about a mile and a half from the
village, and there ascending to some comparatively level spot, or point
projecting from its side, enjoy the beautiful scenery which lay before
me, and the evening breeze, which has such a delicious freshness in a
tropical climate.
Nor was this all. In a deep sequestered nook, formed by two spurs of this
mountain, there lived a venerable Hindoo, whom the people of the village
called the Holy Hermit. The favourable accounts I received of his
character, as well as his odd course of life, made me very desirous
of becoming acquainted with him; and, as he was often visited by the
villagers, I found no difficulty in getting a conductor to his cell. His
character for sanctity, together with a venerable beard, might have
discouraged advances towards an acquaintance, if his lively piercing eye,
a countenance expressive of great mildness and kindness of disposition,
and his courteous manners, had not yet more strongly invited it. He was
indeed not averse to society, though he had seemed thus to fly from it;
and was so great a favourite with his neighbours, that his cell would
have been thronged with visitors, but for the difficulty of the approach
to it. As it was, it was seldom resorted to, except for the purpose of
obtaining his opinion and counsel on all the serious concerns of his
neighbours. He prescribed for the sick, and often provided the medicine
they required--expounded the law--adjusted disputes--made all their little
arithmetical calculations--gave them moral instruction--and, when he
could not afford them relief in their difficulties, he taught them
patience, and gave them consolation. He, in short, united, for the simple
people by whom he was surrounded, the functions of lawyer, physician,
schoolmaster, and divine, and richly merited the reverential respect in
which they held him, as well as their little presents of eggs, fruit, and
garden stuff.
From the first evening that I joined the party which I saw clambering up
the path that led to the Hermit's cell, I found myself strongly attached
to this venerable man, and the more so, from the mystery which hung
around his history. It was agreed that he was not a Burmese. None deemed
to know certainly where he was born, or why he came thither. His own
account was, that he had devoted himself to the service of God, and in
his pilgrimage over the east, had selected this as a spot particularly
favourable to the life of quiet and seclusion he wished to lead.
There was one part of his story to which I could scarcely give credit.
It was said that in the twelve or fifteen years he had resided in this
place, he had been occasionally invisible for months together, and no
one could tell why he disappeared, or whither he had gone. At these
times his cell was closed; and although none ventured to force their
way into it, those who were the most prying could hear no sound indicating
that he was within. Various were the conjectures formed on the subject.
Some supposed that he withdrew from the sight of men for the purpose
of more fervent prayer and more holy meditation; others, that he visited
his home, or some other distant country. The more superstitious believed
that he had, by a kind of metempsychosis, taken a new shape, which, by
some magical or supernatural power, he could assume and put off at
pleasure. This opinion was perhaps the most prevalent, as it gained a
colour with these simple people, from the chemical and astronomical
instruments he possessed. In these he evidently took great pleasure,
and by their means he acquired some of the knowledge by which he so
often excited their admiration.
He soon distinguished me from the rest of his visitors, by addressing
questions to me relative to my history and adventures; and I, in turn,
was gratified to have met with one who took an interest in my concerns,
and who alone, of all I had here met with, could either enter into my
feelings or comprehend my opinions. Our conversations were carried on
in English, which he spoke with facility and correctness. We soon found
ourselves so much to each other's taste, that there was seldom an evening
that I did not make him a visit, and pass an hour or two in his company.
I learnt from him that he was born and bred at Benares, in Hindostan;
that he had been intended for the priesthood, and had been well instructed
in the literature of the east. That a course of untoward circumstances,
upon which he seemed unwilling to dwell, had changed his destination,
and made him a wanderer on the face of the earth. That in the neighbouring
kingdom of Siam he had formed an intimacy with a learned French Jesuit,
who had not only taught him his language, but imparted to him a knowledge
of much of the science of Europe, its institutions and manners. That after
the death of this friend, he had renewed his wanderings; and having been
detained in this village by a fit of sickness for some weeks, he was
warned that it was time to quit his rambling life. This place being
recommended to him, both by its quiet seclusion, and the unsophisticated
manners of its inhabitants, he determined to pass the remnant of his days
here, and, by devoting them to the purposes of piety, charity, and
science, to discharge his duty to his Creator, his species, and himself;
"for the love of knowledge," he added, "has long been my chief source of
selfish enjoyment."
Our tastes and sentiments accorded in so many points, that our acquaintance
ripened by degrees into the closest friendship. We were both
strangers--both unfortunate; and were the only individuals here who had any
knowledge of letters, or of distant parts of the world. These are, indeed,
the main springs of that sympathy, without which there is no love among
men. It is being overwise, to treat with contempt what mankind hold in
respect: and philosophy teaches us not to extinguish our feelings, but to
correct and refine them. My visits to the hermitage were frequently renewed
at first, because they afforded me the relief of variety, whilst his
intimate knowledge of men and things--his remarkable sagacity and good
sense--his air of mingled piety and benignity,--cheated me into
forgetfulness of my situation. As these gradually yielded to the lenitive
power of time, I sought his conversation for the positive pleasure it
afforded, and at last it became the chief source of my happiness. Day after
day, and month after month, glided on in this gentle, unvarying current,
for more than three years; during which period he had occasionally thrown
out dark hints that the time would come when I should be restored to
liberty, and that he had an important secret, which he would one day
communicate. I should have been more tantalized with the expectations that
these remarks were calculated to raise, had I not suspected them to be a
good-natured artifice, to save me from despondency, as they were never made
except when he saw me looking serious and thoughtful.
_The Brahmin's illness--He reveals an important secret to Atterley--
Curious information concerning the Moon--The Glonglims--They plan a
voyage to the Moon._
About this period, one afternoon in the month of March, when I repaired
to the hermitage as usual, I found my venerable friend stretched on his
humble pallet, breathing very quickly, and seemingly in great pain. He
was labouring under a pleurisy, which is not unfrequent in the mountainous
region, at this season. He told me that his disease had not yielded to
the ordinary remedies which he had tried when he first felt its approach,
and that he considered himself to be dangerously ill. "I am, however,"
he added, "prepared to die. Sit down on that block, and listen to what
I shall say to you. Though I shall quit this state of being for another
and a better, I confess that I was alarmed at the thought of expiring,
before I had an opportunity of seeing and conversing with you. I am the
depository of a secret, that I believe is known to no other living mortal.
I once determined that it should die with me; and had I not met with you,
it certainly should. But from our first acquaintance, my heart has been
strongly attracted towards you; and as soon as I found you possessed
of qualities to inspire esteem as well as regard, I felt disposed to
give you this proof of my confidence. Still I hesitated. I first wished
to deliberate on the probable effects of my disclosure upon the condition
of society. I saw that it might produce evil, as well as good; but on
weighing the two together, I have satisfied myself that the good will
preponderate, and have determined to act accordingly. Take this key,
(stretching out his feverish hand,) and after waiting two hours, in
which time the medicine I have taken will have either produced a good
effect, or put an end to my sufferings, you may then open that blue
chest in the corner. It has a false bottom. On removing the paper which
covers it, you will find the manuscript containing the important secret,
together with some gold pieces, which I have saved for the day of
need--because--(and he smiled in spite of his sufferings)--because
hoarding is one of the pleasures of old men. Take them both, and use
them discreetly. When I am gone, I request you, my friend, to discharge
the last sad duties of humanity, and to see me buried according to the
usages of my caste. The simple beings around me will then behold that
I am mortal like themselves. And let this precious relic of female
loveliness and worth, (taking a small picture, set in gold, from his
bosom,) be buried with me. It has been warmed by my heart's blood for
twenty-five years: let it be still near that heart when it ceases
to beat. I have yet more to say to you; but my strength is too much
The good old man here closed his eyes, with an expression of patient
resignation, and rather as if he courted sleep than felt inclined to it:
and, after shutting the door of his cell, I repaired to his little
garden, to pass the allotted two hours. Left to my meditations, when
I thought that I was probably about to be deprived for ever of the
Hermit's conversation and society, I felt the wretchedness of my situation
recur with all its former force. I sat down on a smooth rock under a
tamarind tree, the scene of many an interesting conference between the
Brahmin and myself; and I cast my eyes around--but how changed was every
thing before me! I no longer regarded the sparkling eddies of the little
cascade which fell down a steep rock at the upper end of the garden, and
formed a pellucid basin below. The gay flowers and rich foliage of this
genial climate--the bright plumage and cheerful notes of the birds--were
all there; but my mind was not in a state to relish them. I arose, and in
extreme agitation rambled over this little Eden, in which I had passed so
many delightful hours.
Before the allotted time had elapsed--shall I confess it?--my fears for
the Hermit were overcome by those that were purely selfish. It occurred
to me, if he should thus suddenly die, and I be found alone in his cell,
I might be charged with being his murderer; and my courage, which, from
long inaction, had sadly declined of late, deserted me at the thought.
After the most torturing suspense, the dial at length showed me that the
two hours had elapsed, and I hastened to the cell.
I paused a moment at the door, afraid to enter, or even look in; made one
or two steps, and hearing no sound, concluded that all was over with the
Hermit, and that my own doom was sealed. My delight was inexpressible,
therefore, when I perceived that he still breathed, and when, on drawing
nearer, I found that he slept soundly. In a moment I passed from misery
to bliss. I seated myself by his side, and there remained for more than
an hour, enjoying the transition of my feelings. At length he awoke, and
casting on me a look of placid benignity, said,--"Atterley, my time is
not yet come. Though resigned to death, I am content to live. The worst
is over. I am already almost restored to health." I then administered to
him some refreshments, and, after a while, left him to repose. On again
repairing to the garden, every object assumed its wonted appearance. The
fragrance of the orange and the jasmine was no longer lost to me. The
humming birds, which swarmed round the flowering cytisus and the beautiful
water-fall, once more delighted the eye and the ear. I took my usual
bath, as the sun was sinking below the mountain; and, finding the Hermit
still soundly sleeping, I threw myself on a seat, under the shelter of
some bamboos, fell asleep, and did not awake until late the next morning.
When I arose, I found the good Brahmin up, and, though much weakened by
his disease, able to walk about. He told me that the Mirvoon, uneasy at
my not returning as usual in the evening, had sent in search of me, and
that the servant, finding me safe, was content to return without me. He
advised me, however, not to repeat the same cause of alarm. Sing Fou, on
hearing my explanation, readily forgave me for the uneasiness I had
caused him. After a few days, the Brahmin recovered his ordinary health
and strength; and having attended him at an earlier hour than usual,
according to his request on the previous evening, he thus addressed
"I have already told you, my dear Atterley, that I was born and educated
at Benares, and that science is there more thoroughly understood and
taught than the people of the west are aware of. We have, for many
thousands of years, been good astronomers, chymists, mathematicians, and
philosophers. We had discovered the secret of gunpowder, the magnetic
attraction, the properties of electricity, long before they were heard of
in Europe. We know more than we have revealed; and much of our knowledge
is deposited in the archives of the caste to which I belong; but, for
want of a language generally understood and easily learnt, (for these
records are always written in the Sanscrit, that is no longer a spoken
language,) and the diffusion which is given by the art of printing,
these secrets of science are communicated only to a few, and sometimes
even sleep with their authors, until a subsequent discovery, under more
favourable circumstances, brings them again to light.
"It was at this seat of science that I learnt, from one of our sages,
the physical truth which I am now about to communicate, and which he
discovered, partly by his researches into the writings of ancient Pundits,
and partly by his own extraordinary sagacity. There is a principle of
repulsion as well as gravitation in the earth. It causes fire to rise
upwards. It is exhibited in electricity. It occasions water-spouts,
volcanoes, and earthquakes. After much labour and research, this principle
has been found embodied in a metallic substance, which is met with in the
mountain in which we are, united with a very heavy earth; and this
circumstance had great influence in inducing me to settle myself here.
"This metal, when separated and purified, has as great a tendency to
fly off from the earth, as a piece of gold or lead has to approach it.
After making a number of curious experiments with it, we bethought
ourselves of putting it to some use, and soon contrived, with the aid
of it, to make cars and ascend into the air. We were very secret in
these operations; for our unhappy country having then recently fallen
under the subjection of the British nation, we apprehended that if we
divulged our arcanum, they would not only fly away with all our treasures,
whether found in palace or pagoda, but also carry off the inhabitants,
to make them slaves in their colonies, as their government had not then
abolished the African slave trade.
"After various trials and many successive improvements, in which our
desires increased with our success, we determined to penetrate the
aerial void as far as we could, providing for that purpose an apparatus,
with which you will become better acquainted hereafter. In the course
of our experiments, we discovered that this same metal, which was repelled
from the earth, was in the same degree attracted towards the moon; for in
one of our excursions, still aiming to ascend higher than we had ever
done before, we were actually carried to that satellite; and if we had
not there fallen into a lake, and our machine had not been water-tight,
we must have been dashed to pieces or drowned. You will find in this
book," he added, presenting me with a small volume, bound in green
parchment, and fastened with silver clasps, "a minute detail of the
apparatus to be provided, and the directions to be pursued in making
this wonderful voyage. I have written it since I satisfied my mind that
my fears of British rapacity were unfounded, and that I should do more
good than harm by publishing the secret. But still I am not sure,"
he added, with one of his faint but significant smiles, "that I am
not actuated by a wish to immortalize my name; for where is the mortal
who would be indifferent to this object, if he thought he could attain it?
Read the book at your leisure, and study it."
I listened to this recital with astonishment; and doubted at first,
whether the Brahmin's late severe attack had not had the effect of
unsettling his brain: but on looking in his face, the calm self-possession
and intelligence which it exhibited, dispelled the momentary impression.
I was all impatience to know the adventures he met with in the moon,
asking him fifty questions in a breath, but was most anxious to learn
if it had inhabitants, and what sort of beings they were.
"Yes," said he, "the moon has inhabitants, pretty much the same as the
earth, of which they believe their globe to have been formerly a part.
But suspend your questions, and let me give you a recital of the most
remarkable things I saw there."
I checked my impatience, and listened with all my ears to the wonders
he related. He went on to inform me that the inhabitants of the moon
resembled those of the earth, in form, stature, features, and manners,
and were evidently of the same species, as they did not differ more than
did the Hottentot from the Parisian. That they had similar passions,
propensities, and pursuits, but differed greatly in manners and habits.
They had more activity, but less strength: they were feebler in mind as
well as body. But the most curious part of his information was, that a
large number of them were born without any intellectual vigour, and
wandered about as so many automatons, under the care of the government,
until they were illuminated with the mental ray from some earthly brains,
by means of the mysterious influence which the moon is known to exercise
on our planet. But in this case the inhabitant of the earth loses what
the inhabitant of the moon gains--the ordinary portion of understanding
allotted to one mortal being thus divided between two; and, as might be
expected, seeing that the two minds were originally the same, there is a
most exact conformity between the man of the earth and his counterpart in
the moon, in all their principles of action and modes of thinking.
These Glonglims, as they are called, after they have been thus imbued
with intellect, are held in peculiar respect by the vulgar, and are
thought to be in every way superior to those whose understandings are
entire. The laws by which two objects, so far apart, operate on each
other, have been, as yet, but imperfectly developed, and the wilder
their freaks, the more they are the objects of wonder and admiration.
"The science of _lunarology_," he observed, "is yet in its infancy.
But in the three voyages I have made to the moon, I have acquired so
many new facts, and imparted so many to the learned men of that planet,
that it is, without doubt, the subject of their active speculations
at this time, and will, probably, assume a regular form long before the
new science of phrenology of which you tell me, and which it must, in
time, supersede. Now and then, though very rarely, the man of the earth
regains the intellect he has lost; in which case his lunar counterpart
returns to his former state of imbecility. Both parties are entirely
unconscious of the change--one, of what he has lost, and the other of
what he has gained."
The Brahmin then added: "Though our party are the only voyagers of which
authentic history affords any testimony, yet it is probable, from obscure
hints in some of our most ancient writings in the Sanscrit, that the
voyage has been made in remote periods of antiquity; and the Lunarians
have a similar tradition. While, in the revolutions which have so changed
the affairs of mankind on our globe, (and probably in its satellite,)
the art has been lost, faint traces of its existence may be perceived
in the opinions of the vulgar, and in many of their ordinary forms of
expression. Thus it is generally believed throughout all Asia, that the
moon has an influence on the brain; and when a man is of insane mind, we
call him a lunatic. One of the curses of the common people is, 'May the
moon eat up your brains;' and in China they say of a man who has done
any act of egregious folly, 'He was gathering wool in the moon.'"
I was struck with these remarks, and told the Hermit that the language
of Europe afforded the same indirect evidence of the fact he mentioned:
that my own language especially, abounded with expressions which could
be explained on no other hypothesis;--for, besides the terms "lunacy,"
"lunatic," and the supposed influence of the moon on the brain, when we
see symptoms of a disordered intellect, we say the mind _wanders_,
which evidently alludes to a part of it rambling to a distant region, as
is the moon. We say too, a man is "_out of his head_," that is, his
mind being in another man's head, must of course be out of his own.
To "know no more than the man in the moon," is a proverbial expression
for ignorance, and is without meaning, unless it be considered to refer
to the Glonglims. We say that an insane man is "distracted;" by which we
mean that his mind is drawn two different ways. So also, we call a
lunatic _a man beside himself_, which most distinctly expresses the two
distinct bodies his mind now animates. There are, moreover, many other
analogous expressions, as "moonstruck," "deranged," "extravagant," and
some others, which, altogether, form a mass of concurring testimony that
it is impossible to resist.
"Be that as it may," said he, "whether the voyage has been made in former
times or not, is of little importance: it is sufficient for us to know
that it has been effected in our time, and can be effected again. I am
anxious to repeat the voyage, for the purpose of ascertaining some facts,
about which I have been lately speculating; and I wish, besides, to
afford you ocular demonstration of the wonders I have disclosed; for,
in spite of your good opinion of my veracity, I have sometimes perceived
symptoms of incredulity about you, and I do not wonder at it."
The love of the marvellous, and the wish for a change, which had long
slumbered in my bosom, were now suddenly awakened, and I eagerly caught
at his proposal.
"When can we set out, father?" said I.
"Not so fast," replied he; "we have a great deal of preparation to make.
Our apparatus requires the best workmanship, and we cannot here command
either first-rate articles or materials, without incurring the risk of
suspicion and interruption. While most of the simple villagers are
kindly disposed towards me, there are a few who regard me with distrust
and malevolence, and would readily avail themselves of an opportunity
to bring me under the censure of the priesthood and the government.
Besides, the governor of Mergui would probably be glad to lay hold of
any plausible evidence against you, as affording him the best chance of
avoiding any future reckoning either with you or his superiors. We must
therefore be very secret in our plans. I know an ingenious artificer
in copper and other metals, whose only child I was instrumental in curing
of scrofula, and in whose fidelity, as well as good will, I can safely
rely. But we must give him time. He can construct our machine at home,
and we must take our departure from that place in the night."
CHAPTER III.
_The Brahmin and Atterley prepare for their voyage--Description of their
machine--Incidents of the voyage--The appearance of the earth; Africa;
Greece--The Brahmin's speculations on the different races of men--National
Having thus formed our plan of operations, we the next day proceeded to
put them in execution. The coppersmith agreed to undertake the work
we wanted done, for a moderate compensation; but we did not think it
prudent to inform him of our object, which he supposed was to make some
philosophical experiment. It was forthwith arranged that he should
occasionally visit the Hermit, to receive instructions, as if for the
purpose of asking medical advice. During this interval my mind was
absorbed with our project; and when in company, I was so thoughtful
and abstracted, that it has since seemed strange to me that Sing Fou's
suspicions that I was planning my escape were not more excited. At
length, by dint of great exertion, in about three months every thing
was in readiness, and we determined on the following night to set out
on our perilous expedition.
The machine in which we proposed to embark, was a copper vessel, that
would have been an exact cube of six feet, if the corners and edges
had not been rounded off. It had an opening large enough to receive
our bodies, which was closed by double sliding pannels, with quilted
cloth between them. When these were properly adjusted, the machine
was perfectly air-tight, and strong enough, by means of iron bars running
alternately inside and out, to resist the pressure of the atmosphere,
when the machine should be exhausted of its air, as we took the precaution
to prove by the aid of an air-pump. On the top of the copper chest
and on the outside, we had as much of the lunar metal (which I shall
henceforth call _lunarium_) as we found, by calculation and experiment,
would overcome the weight of the machine, as well as its contents,
and take us to the moon on the third day. As the air which the machine
contained, would not be sufficient for our respiration more than about
six hours, and the chief part of the space we were to pass through was
a mere void, we provided ourselves with a sufficient supply, by condensing
it in a small globular vessel, made partly of iron and partly of lunarium,
to take off its weight. On my return, I gave Mr. Jacob Perkins, who
is now in England, a hint of this plan of condensation, and it has
there obtained him great celebrity. This fact I should not have thought
it worth while to mention, had he not taken the sole merit of the
invention to himself; at least I cannot hear that in his numerous public
notices he has ever mentioned my name.
But to return. A small circular window, made of a single piece of thick
clear glass, was neatly fitted on each of the six sides. Several pieces
of lead were securely fastened to screws which passed through the bottom
of the machine; as well as a thick plank. The screws were so contrived,
that by turning them in one direction, the pieces of lead attached
to them were immediately disengaged from the hooks with which they
were connected. The pieces of lunarium were fastened in like manner
to screws, which passed through the top of the machine; so that by
turning them in one direction, those metallic pieces would fly into
the air with the velocity of a rocket. The Brahmin took with him a
thermometer, two telescopes, one of which projected through the top
of the machine, and the other through the bottom; a phosphoric lamp,
pen, ink, and paper, and some light refreshments sufficient to supply
us for some days.
The moon was then in her third quarter, and near the zenith: it was, of
course, a little after midnight, and when the coppersmith and his family
were in their soundest sleep, that we entered the machine. In about an hour
more we had the doors secured, and every thing arranged in its place, when,
cutting the cords which fastened us to the ground, by means of small steel
blades which worked in the ends of other screws, we rose from the earth
with a whizzing sound, and a sensation at first of very rapid ascent: but
after a short time, we were scarcely sensible of any motion in the machine,
except when we changed our places.
The ardent curiosity I had felt to behold the wonderful things which the
Brahmin related, and the hope of returning soon to my children and native
country, had made me most impatient for the moment of departure; during
which time the hazards and difficulties of the voyage were entirely
overlooked: but now that the moment of execution had arrived, and I found
myself shut up in this small chest, and about to enter on a voyage so new,
so strange, and beset with such a variety of dangers, I will not deny that
my courage failed me, and I would gladly have compromised to return to
Mozaun, and remain there quietly all the rest of my days. But shame
restrained me, and I dissembled my emotions.
At our first shock on leaving the earth, my fears were at their height; but
after about two hours, I had tolerably well regained my composure, to which
the returning light of day greatly contributed. By this time we had a full
view of the rising sun, pouring a flood of light over one half of the
circular landscape below us, and leaving the rest in shade. While those
natural objects, the rivers and mountains, land and sea, were fast receding
from our view, our horizon kept gradually extending as we mounted: but ere
10 o'clock this effect ceased, and the broad disc of the earth began
sensibly to diminish.
It is impossible to describe my sensations of mingled awe and admiration at
the splendid spectacle beneath me, so long as the different portions of the
earth's surface were plainly distinguishable. The novelty of the situation
in which I found myself, as well as its danger, prevented me indeed at
first from giving more than a passing attention to the magnificent scene;
but after a while, encouraged by the Brahmin's exhortation, and yet more by
the example of his calm and assured air, I was able to take a more
leisurely view of it. At first, as we partook of the diurnal motion of the
earth, and our course was consequently oblique, the same portion of the
globe from which we had set out, continued directly under us; and as the
eye stretched in every direction over Asia and its seas, continents and
islands, they appeared like pieces of green velvet, the surrounding ocean
like a mirror, and the Ganges, the Hoogley, and the great rivers of China,
like threads of silver.
About 11 o'clock it was necessary to get a fresh supply of air, when
my companion cautiously turned one of the two stop-cocks to let out
that which was no longer fit for respiration, requesting me, at the
same time, to turn the other, to let in a fresh supply of condensed
air; but being awkward in the first attempt to follow his directions,
I was so affected by the exhaustion of the air through the vent now
made for it, that I fainted; and having, at the same time, given freer
passage to the condensed air than I ought, we must in a few seconds
have lost our supply, and thus have inevitably perished, had not the
watchful Hermit seen the mischief, and repaired it almost as soon as
it occurred. This accident, and the various agitations my mind had
undergone in the course of the day, so overpowered me, that at an early
hour in the afternoon I fell into a profound sleep, and did not awake
again for eight hours.
While I slept, the good Brahmin had contrived to manage both stop-cocks
himself. The time of my waking would have been about 11 o'clock at night,
if we had continued on the earth; but we were now in a region where there
was no alternation of day and night, but one unvarying cloudless sun. Its
heat, however, was not in proportion to its brightness; for we found that
after we had ascended a few miles from the earth, it was becoming much
colder, and the Brahmin had recourse to a chemical process for evolving
heat, which soon made us comfortable: but after we were fairly in the great
aerial void, the temperature of our machine showed no tendency to change.
The sensations caused by the novelty of my situation, at first checked
those lively and varied trains of thought which the bird's-eye view of so
many countries passing in review before us, was calculated to excite: yet,
after I had become more familiar with it, I contemplated the beautiful
exhibition with inexpressible delight. Besides, a glass of cordial, as well
as the calm, confiding air of the Brahmin, contributed to restore me to my
self-possession. The reader will recollect, that although our motion, at
first, partook of that of the earth's on its axis, and although the
_positive_ effect was the same on our course, the _relative_ effect was
less and less as we ascended, and consequently, that after a certain
height, every part of the terraqueous globe would present itself to our
view in succession, as we rapidly receded from it. At 9 o'clock, the whole
of India was a little to the west of us, and we saw, as in a map, that
fertile and populous region, which has been so strangely reduced to
subjection, by a company of merchants belonging to a country on the
opposite side of the globe--a country not equal to one-fourth of it, in
extent or population. Its rivers were like small filaments of silver; the
Red Sea resembled a narrow plate of the same metal. The peninsula of India
was of a darker, and Arabia of a light and more grayish green.
The sun's rays striking obliquely on the Atlantic, emitted an effulgence
that was dazzling to the eyes. For two or three hours the appearance
of the earth did not greatly vary, the wider extent of surface we could
survey, compensating for our greater distance; and indeed at that time
we could not see the whole horizon, without putting our eyes close to
When the Brahmin saw that I had overcome my first surprise, and had
acquired somewhat of his own composure, he manifested a disposition
to beguile the time with conversation. "Look through the telescope,"
said he, "a little from the sun, and observe the continent of Africa,
which is presenting itself to our view." I took a hasty glance over
it, and perceived that its northern edge was fringed with green; then
a dull white belt marked the great Sahara, or Desert, and then it exhibited
a deep green again, to its most southern extremity. I tried in vain
to discover the pyramids, for our telescope had not sufficient power
to show them.
I observed to him, that less was known of this continent than of the
others: that a spirit of lively curiosity had been excited by the
western nations of Europe, to become acquainted with the inhabited
parts of the globe; but that all the efforts yet made, had still left
a large portion almost entirely unknown. I asked if he did not think it
probable that some of the nations in the interior of Africa were more
advanced in civilization than those on the coast, whose barbarous custom
of making slaves of their prisoners, Europeans had encouraged and
perpetuated, by purchasing them.
"No, no," said he; "the benefits of civilization could not have been so
easily confined, but would have spread themselves over every part of that
continent, or at least as far as the Great Desert, if they had ever
existed. The intense heat of a climate, lying on each side of the Line,
at once disinclines men to exertion, and renders it unnecessary. Vegetable
diet is more suited to them than animal, which favours a denser population.
Talent is elicited by the efforts required to overcome difficulties
and hardships; and their natural birth-place is a country of frost and
snow--of tempests--of sterility enough to give a spur to exertion, but
not enough to extinguish hope. Where these difficulties exist, and give
occasion to war and emulation, the powers of the human mind are most
frequently developed."
"Do you think then," said I, "that there is no such thing as natural
inferiority and differences of races?"
"I have been much perplexed by that question," said he. "When I regard
the great masses of mankind, I think there seems to be among them some
characteristic differences. I see that the Europeans have every where
obtained the ascendancy over those who inhabit the other quarters of
the globe. But when I compare individuals, I see always the same passions,
the same motives, the same mental operations; and my opinion is changed.
The same seed becomes a very different plant when sowed in one soil or
another, and put under this or that mode of cultivation."
"And may not," said I, "the very nature of the plant be changed, after a
long continuance of the same culture in the same soil?"
"Why, that is but another mode of stating the question. I rather think,
if it has generally degenerated, it may, by opposite treatment, be also
gradually brought back to its original excellence."
"Who knows, then," said I, "what our missionaries and colonization
societies may effect in Africa."
He inquired of me what these societies were; and on explaining their
history, observed: "By what you tell me, it is indeed a small beginning;
but if they can get this grain of mustard-seed to grow, there is no
saying how much it may multiply. See what a handful of colonists have
done in your own country. A few ship-loads of English have overspread
half a continent; and, from what you tell me, their descendants will
amount, in another century, to more than one hundred millions. There is
no rule," he continued, "that can be laid down on this subject, to which
some nations cannot be found to furnish a striking exception. If mere
difficulties were all that were wanting to call forth the intellectual
energies of man, they have their full share on the borders of the Great
Desert. There are in that whitish tract which separates the countries
on the southern shores of the Mediterranean from the rest of Africa,
thousands of human beings at this moment toiling over that dreary ocean
of sand, to whom a draught of fresh water would be a blessing, and the
simplest meal a luxury.
"Perhaps, however, you will say they are so engrossed with the animal
wants of hunger and thirst, that they are incapable of attending to any
thing else. Be it so. But in the interior they are placed in parallel
circumstances with the natives of Europe: they are engaged in struggles
for territory and dominion--for their altars and their homes; and this
state of things, which has made some of them brave and warlike, has made
none poets or painters, historians or philosophers. There, poetry has not
wanted themes of great achievement and noble daring; but heroes have
wanted poets. Nor can we justly ascribe the difference to the enervating
influence of climate, for the temperature of the most southern parts of
Africa differs little from that of Greece. And the tropical nations, too,
of your own continent, the Peruvians, were more improved than those who
inhabited the temperate regions. Besides, though the climate had instilled
softness and feebleness of character, it might also have permitted the
cultivation of the arts, as has been the case with us in Asia. On the
whole, without our being able to pronounce with certainty on the subject,
it does seem probable that some organic difference exists in the various
races of mankind, to which their diversities of moral and intellectual
character may in part be referred."--By this time the Morea and the
Grecian Archipelago were directly under our telescope.
"Does not Greece," said I, "furnish the clearest proof of the influence
of moral causes on the character of nations? Compare what that country
formerly was, with what it now is. Once superior to all the rest of the
habitable globe, (of which it did not constitute the thousandth part,)
in letters, arts, and arms, and all that distinguishes men from brutes;
not merely in their own estimation, (for all nations are disposed to rate
themselves high enough,) but by the general consent of the rest of the
world. Do not the most improved and civilized of modern states still take
them as their instructors and guides in every species of literature--in
philosophy, history, oratory, poetry, architecture, and sculpture? And
those too, who have attained superiority over the world, in arms, yield
a voluntary subjection to the Greeks in the arts. The cause of their
former excellence and their present inferiority, is no doubt to be found
in their former freedom and their present slavery, and in the loss of
that emulation which seems indispensable to natural greatness."
"Nay," replied he, "I am very far from denying the influence of moral
causes on national character. The history of every country affords
abundant evidence of it. I mean only to say, that though it does much,
it does not do every thing. It seems more reasonable to impute the changes
in national character to the mutable habits and institutions of man,
than to nature, which is always the same. But if we look a little nearer,
we may perhaps perceive, that amidst all those mutations in the character
of nations, there are still some features that are common to the same
people at all times, and which it would therefore be reasonable to
impute to the great unvarying laws of nature. Thus it requires no
extraordinary acuteness of observation, no strained hypothesis, to
perceive a close resemblance between the Germans or the Britons of
antiquity and their modern descendants, after the lapse of eighteen
centuries, and an entire revolution in government, religion, language,
and laws. And travellers still perceive among the inhabitants of modern
Greece, deteriorated and debased as they are by political servitude,
many of those qualities which distinguished their predecessors: the
same natural acuteness--the same sensibility to pleasure--the same
pliancy of mind and elasticity of body--the same aptitude for the arts
of imitation--and the same striking physiognomy. That bright, serene
sky--that happy combination of land and water, constituting the perfection
of the picturesque, and that balmy softness of its air, which have proved
themselves so propitious to forms of beauty, agility, and strength, also
operate benignantly on the mind which animates them. Whilst the fruit
is still fair to the eye, it is not probable that it has permanently
degenerated in fragrance or flavour. The great diversities of national
character may, perhaps, be attributed principally to moral and accidental
causes, but partly also to climate, and to original diversities in the
different races of man."
_Continuation of the voyage--View of Europe; Atlantic Ocean; America--
Speculations on the future destiny of the United States--Moral reflections
--Pacific Ocean--Hypothesis on the origin of the Moon._
By this time the whole Mediterranean Sea, which, with the Arabian Gulf,
was seen to separate Africa from Europe and Asia, was full in our view.
The political divisions of these quarters of the world were, of course,
undistinguishable; and few of the natural were discernible by the naked
eye. The Alps were marked by a white streak, though less bright than the
water. By the aid of our glass, we could just discern the Danube, the
Nile, and a river which empties itself into the Gulf of Guinea, and which
I took to be the Niger: but the other streams were not perceptible. The
most conspicuous object of the solid part of the globe, was the Great
Desert before mentioned. The whole of Africa, indeed, was of a lighter hue
than either Asia or Europe, owing, I presume, to its having a greater
proportion of sandy soil: and I could not avoid contrasting, in my mind,
the colour of these continents, as they now appeared, with the complexions
of their respective inhabitants.
I was struck too, with the vast disproportion which the extent of the
several countries of the earth bore to the part they had acted in history,
and the influence they had exerted on human affairs. The British islands
had diminished to a speck, and France was little larger; yet, a few
years ago it seemed, at least to us in the United States, as if there
were no other nations on the earth. The Brahmin, who was well read in
European history, on my making a remark on this subject, reminded me that
Athens and Sparta had once obtained almost equal celebrity, although
they were so small as not now to be visible. As I slowly passed the
telescope over the face of Europe, I pictured to myself the fat, plodding
Hollander--the patient, contemplative German--the ingenious, sensual
Italian--the temperate Swiss--the haughty, superstitious Spaniard--the
sprightly, self-complacent Frenchman--the sullen and reflecting Englishman
--who monopolize nearly all the science and literature of the earth,
to which they bear so small a proportion. As the Atlantic fell under our
view, two faint circles on each side of the equator, were to be perceived
by the naked eye. They were less bright than the rest of the ocean. The
Brahmin suggested that they might be currents; which brought to my memory
Dr. Franklin's conjecture on the subject, now completely verified by this
circular line of vapour, as it had been previously rendered probable by
the floating substances, which had been occasionally picked up, at great
distances from the places where they had been thrown into the ocean. The
circle was whiter and more distinct, where the Gulf Stream runs parallel
to the American coast, and gradually grew fainter as it passed along the
Banks of Newfoundland, to the coast of Europe, where, taking a southerly
direction, the line of the circle was barely discernible. A similar circle
of vapour, though less defined and complete, was perceived in the South
Atlantic Ocean.
When the coast of my own beloved country first presented itself to my
view, I experienced the liveliest emotions; and I felt so anxious to see
my children and friends, that I would gladly have given up all the
promised pleasures of our expedition. I even ventured to hint my feelings
to the Brahmin; but he, gently rebuking my impatience, said--
"If to return home had been your only object, and not to see what not one
of your nation or race has ever yet seen, you ought to have so informed
me, that we might have arranged matters accordingly. I do not wish you
to return to your country, until you will be enabled to make yourself
welcome and useful there, by what you may see in the lunar world. Take
courage, then, my friend; you have passed the worst; and, as the proverb
says, do not, when you have swallowed the ox, now choke at the tail.
Besides, although we made all possible haste in descending, we should,
ere we reached the surface, find ourselves to the west of your continent,
and be compelled then to choose between some part of Asia or the Pacific
"Let us then proceed," said I, mortified at the imputation on my courage,
and influenced yet more, perhaps, by the last argument. The Brahmin then
tried to soothe my disappointment, by his remarks on my native land.
"I have a great curiosity," said he, "to see a country where a man, by
his labour, can earn as much in a month as will procure him bread, and
meat too, for the whole year; in a week, as will pay his dues to the
government; and in one or two days, as will buy him an acre of good land:
where every man preaches whatever religion he pleases; where the priests
of the different sects never fight, and seldom quarrel; and, stranger
than all, where the authority of government derives no aid from an army,
and that of the priests no support from the law."
I told him, when he should see these things in operation with his
own eyes, as I trusted he would, if it pleased heaven to favour our
undertakings, they would appear less strange. I reminded him of the
peculiar circumstances under which our countrymen had commenced their
"In all other countries," said I, "civilization and population have
gone hand in hand; and the necessity of an increasing subsistence
for increasing numbers, has been the parent of useful arts and of
social improvement. In every successive stage of their advancement,
such countries have equally felt the evils occasioned by a scanty and
precarious subsistence. In America, however, the people are in the full
enjoyment of all the arts of civilization, while they are unrestricted
in their means of subsistence, and consequently in their power of
multiplication. From this singular state of things, two consequences
result. One is, that the progress of the nation in wealth, power, and
greatness, is more rapid than the world has ever before witnessed.
Another is, that our people, being less cramped and fettered by their
necessities, and feeling, of course, less of those moral evils which
poverty and discomfort engender, their character, moral and intellectual,
will be developed and matured with greater celerity, and, I incline
to think, carried to a higher point of excellence than has ever yet
been attained. I anticipate for them the eloquence and art of Athens--the
courage and love of country of Sparta--the constancy and military prowess
of the Romans--the science and literature of England and France--the
industry of the Dutch--the temperance and obedience to the laws of the
Swiss. In fifty years, their numbers will amount to forty millions; in
a century, to one hundred and sixty millions; in two centuries, (allowing
for a decreasing rate of multiplication,) to three or four hundred
millions. Nor does it seem impossible that, from the structure of their
government, they may continue united for a few great national purposes,
while each State may make the laws that are suited to its peculiar habits,
character, and circumstances. In another half century, they will extend
the Christian religion and the English language to the Pacific Ocean.
"To the south of them, on the same continent, other great nations will
arise, who, if they were to be equally united, might contend in terrible
conflicts for the mastery of this great continent, and even of the world.
But when they shall be completely liberated from the yoke of Spanish
dominion, and have for some time enjoyed that full possession of their
faculties and energies which liberty only can give, they will probably
split into distinct States. United, at first, by the sympathy of men
struggling in the same cause, and by similarity of manners and religion,
they will, after a while, do as men always have done, quarrel and fight;
and these wars will check their social improvement, and mar their
political hopes. Whether they will successively fall under the dominion
of one able and fortunate leader, or, like the motley sovereignties of
Europe, preserve their integrity by their mutual jealousy, time only can
"Your reasoning about the natives of Spanish America appears very
probable," said the Brahmin; "but is it not equally applicable to your
own country ?"
I reminded him of the peculiar advantages of our government. He shook
"No, Atterley," said he, "do not deceive yourself. The duration of every
species of polity is uncertain; the works of nature alone are permanent.
The motions of the heavenly bodies are the same as they were thousands
of years ago. But not so with the works of man. He is the identical animal
that he ever was. His political institutions, however cunningly devised,
have always been yet more perishable than his structures of stone and
marble. This is according to all past history: and do not, therefore,
count upon an exception in your favour, that would be little short of
the miraculous. But," he good-naturedly added, "such a miracle may take
place in your system; and, although I do not expect it, I sincerely
We were now able to see one half of the broad expanse of the Pacific,
which glistened with the brightness of quicksilver or polished steel.
"Cast your eyes to the north," said he, "and see where your continent
and mine approach so near as almost to touch. Both these coasts are
at this time thinly inhabited by a rude and miserable people, whose
whole time is spent in struggling against the rigours of their dreary
climate, and the scantiness of its productions. Yet, perhaps the Indians
and the Kamtschadales will be gradually moulded into a hardy, civilized
people: and here may be the scene of many a fierce conflict between your
people and the Russians, whose numbers, now four times as great as yours,
increase almost as rapidly."
He then amused me with accounts of the manners and mode of life of the
Hyperborean race, with whom he had once passed a summer. Glancing my eye
then to the south,--"See," said I, "while the Kamtschadale is providing
his supply of furs and of fish, for the long winter which is already
knocking at the door of his hut, the gay and voluptuous native of the
Sandwich and other islands between the tropics. How striking the contrast!
The one passes his life in ease, abundance, and enjoyment; the other in
toil, privation, and care. No inclemency of the seasons inflicts present
suffering on these happy islanders, or brings apprehensions for the
future. Nature presents them with her most delicious fruits spontaneously
and abundantly; and she has implanted in their breast a lively relish for
the favours she so lavishly bestows upon them."
The Brahmin, after musing a while, replied: "The difference is far less
than you imagine. Perhaps, on balancing their respective pleasures and
pains, the superior gain of the islander will be reduced to nothing: for,
as to the simplest source of gratification, that of palatable food, if
nature produces it more liberally in the islands, she also produces there
more mouths to consume it. The richest Kamtschadale may, indeed, oftener
go without a dinner than the richest Otaheitan; but it may be quite the
reverse with the poorest. Then, as to quality of the food: if nature
has provided more delicious fruits for the natives of tropical climates,
she has given a sharper appetite and stronger digestion to the Hyperborean,
which equalizes the sum of their enjoyments. A dry crust is relished, when
an individual is hungry, more than the most savoury and delicate dainties
when he is in a fever; and water to one man, is a more delicious beverage
than the juice of the grape or of the palm to another. As to the necessity
for labour, which is ever pressing on the inhabitants of cold countries,
it is this consequent and incessant activity which gives health to their
bodies, and cheerful vigour to their minds; since, without such exercise,
man would have been ever a prey to disease and discontent. And, if no
other occupation be provided for the mind of man, it carves out employment
for itself in vain regrets and gloomy forebodings--in jealousy, envy, and
the indulgence of every hateful and tormenting passion: hence the
proverb,--'If you want corn, cultivate your soil; if you want weeds, let
"But again: the native of those sunny isles is never sensible of the
bounty of Providence, till he is deprived of it. Here, as well as every
where else, desire outgoes gratification. Man sees or fancies much that
he cannot obtain; and in his regret for what he wants, forgets what he
already possesses. What is it to one with a tooth-ache, that a savoury
dish is placed before him? It is the same with the mind as the body: when
pain engrosses it in one way, it cannot relish pleasure in another. Every
climate and country too, have their own evils and inconveniences."
"You think, then," said I, "that the native of Kamtschatka has the
"No," he rejoined, "I do not mean to say that, for the evils of his
situation are likewise very great; but they are more manifest, and
therefore less necessary to be brought to your notice."
It was now, by our time-pieces, about two o'clock in the afternoon--that
is, two hours had elapsed since we left terra firma; and, saving a few
biscuits and a glass of cordial a-piece, we had not taken any sort of
refreshment. The Brahmin proposed that we now should dine; and, opening
a small case, and drawing forth a cold fowl, a piece of dried goat's
flesh, a small pot of ghee, some biscuits, and a bottle of arrack
flavoured with ginger and spices, with a larger one of water, we ate as
heartily as we had ever done at the hermitage; the slight motion of our
machine to one side or the other, whenever we moved, giving us nearly
as much exercise as a vessel in a smooth sea. The animal food had been
provided for me, for the Brahmin satisfied his hunger with the ghee,
sweetmeats, and biscuit, and ate sparingly even of them. We each took
two glasses of the cordial diluted with water, and carefully putting
back the fragments, again turned our thoughts to the planet we had left.
The middle of the Pacific now lay immediately beneath us. I had never
before been struck with the irregular distribution of land and water on
our globe, the expanse of ocean here being twice as large as in any
other part; and, on remarking this striking difference to the Brahmin,
"It is the opinion of some philosophers in the moon, that their globe
is a fragment of ours; and, as they can see every part of the earth's
surface, they believe the Pacific was the place from which the moon was
ejected. They pretend that a short, but consistent tradition of the
disruption, has regularly been transmitted from remote antiquity; and
they draw confirmation of their hypothesis from many words of the Chinese,
and other Orientals, with whom they claim affinity."
"Ridiculous!" said I; "the moon is one-fourth the diameter of the earth;
and if the two were united in one sphere, the highest mountains must
have been submerged, and of course there would have been no human
inhabitants; or, if any part of the land was then bare, on the waters
retiring to fill up the chasm made by the separation of so large a body
as the moon, the parts before habitable would be, instead of two, three,
or at most four miles, as your Himalah mountains are said to be, some
twenty or thirty miles above the level of the ocean."
"That is not quite so certain," said he: "we know not of what the interior
of the earth is composed, any more than we could distinguish the contents
of an egg, by penetrating one hundredth part of its shell. But we see,
that if one drop of water be united with another, they form one large
drop, as spherical as either of the two which composed it: and on the
separation of the moon from the earth, if they were composed of mingled
solids and fluids, or if the solid parts rested on fluid, both the
fragment and the remaining earth would assume the same globular appearance
they now present.
"On this subject, however, I give no opinion. I only say, that it is not
contradicted by the facts you have mentioned. The fluid and the solid
parts settling down into a new sphere, might still retain nearly their
former proportion: or, if the fragment took away a greater proportion
of solid than of fluid, then the waters retiring to fill up the cavity,
would leave parts bare which they had formerly covered. There are some
facts which give a colour to this supposition; for most of the high
mountains of the earth afford evidence of former submersion; and those
which are the highest, the Himalah, are situated in the country to which
the origin of civilization, and even the human species itself, may be
traced. The moon too, we know, has much less water than the earth: and
all those appearances of violence, which have so puzzled cosmogonists,
the topsy-turvy position in which vegetable substances are occasionally
found beneath the soil on which they grew, and the clear manifestations
of the action of water, in the formation of strata, in the undulating
forms it has left, and in the correspondent salient and retiring angles
of mountains and opposite coasts, were all caused by the disruption;
and as the moon has a smaller proportion of water than the earth, she
has also the highest mountains."
"But, father," said I, "the diameter of the earth being but four times
as large as that of the moon, how can the violent separation of so large
a portion of our planet be accounted for? Where is the mighty agent to
rend off such a mass, and throw it to thirty times the earth's diameter?"
"Upon that subject," said he, "the Lunarian sages are much divided.
Many hypotheses have been suggested on the subject, some of which are
very ingenious, and all very fanciful: but the two most celebrated, and
into which all the others are now merged, are those of Neerlego and
Darcandarca; the former of whom, in a treatise extending to nine quarto
volumes, has maintained that the disruption was caused by a comet; and
the latter, in a work yet more voluminous, has endeavoured to prove, that
when the materials of the moon composed a part of the earth, this planet
contained large masses of water, which, though the particles cohered with
each other, were disposed to fly off from the earth; and that, by an
accumulation of the electric fluid, according to laws which he has
attempted to explain, the force was at length sufficient to heave the
rocks which encompassed these masses, from their beds, and to project
them from the earth, when, partaking of the earth's diurnal motion, they
assumed a spherical form, and revolved around it. And further, that
because the moon is composed of two sorts of matter, that are differently
affected towards the earth in its revolution round that planet, the same
parts of its surface always maintain some relative position to us, which
thus necessarily causes the singularity of her turning on her axis
precisely in the time in which she revolves round the earth."
"I see," said I, "that doctors differ and dispute about their own fancies
every where."
"That is," said he, "because they contend as vehemently for what they
imagine as for what they see; and perhaps more so, as their _perceptions_
are like those of other men, while their _reveries_ are more exclusively
their own. Thus, in the present instance, the controversy turns upon the
mode in which the separation was effected, which affords the widest field
for conjecture, while they both agree that such separation has taken
place. As to this fact I have not yet made up my mind, though it must
be confessed that there is much to give plausibility to their opinion.
I recognise, for instance, a striking resemblance between the animal
and vegetable productions of Asia and those of the moon."
"Do you think, father," said I, "that animal, or even vegetable life,
could possibly exist in such a disruption as is supposed?"
"Why not?" said he: "you are not to imagine that the shock would be felt
in proportion to the mass that was moved. On the contrary, while it would
occasion, in some parts, a great destruction of life, it would, in others,
not be felt more than an earthquake, or rather, than a succession of
earthquakes, during the time that the different parts of the mass were
adjusting themselves to a spherical form; whilst a few pairs, or even a
single pair of animals, saved in some cavity of a mountain, would be
sufficient, in a few centuries, to stock the whole surface of the earth
with as many individuals as are now to be found on it.
"After all," he added, "it is often difficult in science to distinguish
Truth from the plausibility which personates her. But let us not, however,
be precipitate; let us but hear both sides. In the east we have a saying,
that 'he who hears with but one ear, never hears well.'"
_The voyage continued--Second view of Asia--The Brahmin's speculations
concerning India--Increase of the Moon's attraction--Appearance of the
Moon--They land on the Moon._
The dryness of the preceding discussion, which lay out of the course of
my studies, together with the effect of my dinner, began to make me a
little drowsy; whereupon the Brahmin urged me to take the repose which
it was clear I needed; remarking, that when I awoke, he would follow
my example. Reclining my head, then, on my cloak, in a few minutes my
senses were steeped in forgetfulness.
I slept about six hours most profoundly; and on waking, found the good
Brahmin busy with his calculations of our progress. I insisted on his
now taking some rest. After requesting me to wake him at the end of three
hours, (or sooner, if any thing of moment should occur,) and putting up
a short prayer, which was manifested by his looks, rather than by his
words, he laid himself down, and soon fell into a quiet sleep.
Left now to my own meditations, and unsupported by the example and
conversation of my friend, I felt my first apprehensions return, and
began seriously to regret my rashness in thus venturing on so bold an
experiment, which, however often repeated with success, must ever be
hazardous, and which could plead little more in its favour than a vain
and childish curiosity. I took up a book, but whilst my eye ran over the
page, I understood but little what I read, and could not relish even that.
I now looked down through the telescope, and found the earth surprisingly
diminished in her apparent dimensions, from the increased rapidity of our
ascent. The eastern coasts of Asia were still fully in view, as well as
the entire figure of that vast continent--of New Holland--of Ceylon, and
of Borneo; but the smaller islands were invisible. I strained my eye to
no purpose, to follow the indentations of the coast, according to the map
before me; the great bays and promontories could alone be perceived. The
Burman Empire, in one of the insignificant villages of which I had been
confined for a few years, was now reduced to a speck. The agreeable
hours I had passed with the Brahmin, with the little daughter of Sing Fou,
and my rambling over the neighbouring heights, all recurred to my mind,
and I almost regretted the pleasures I had relinquished. I tried, with
more success, to beguile the time by making notes in my journal; and after
having devoted about an hour to this object, I returned to the telescope,
and now took occasion to examine the figure of the earth near the Poles,
with a view of discovering whether its form favoured Captain Symmes's
theory of an aperture existing there; and I am convinced that that
ingenious gentleman is mistaken. Time passed so heavily during these
solitary occupations, that I looked at my watch every five minutes, and
could scarcely be persuaded it was not out of order. I then took up my
little Bible, (which had always been my travelling companion,) read a
few chapters in St. Matthew, and found my feelings tranquillized, and
my courage increased. The desired hour at length arrived; when, on waking
the old man, he alertly raised himself up, and at the first view of the
diminished appearance of the earth, observed that our journey was a third
over, as to time, but not as to distance. After a few moments, the Brahmin
again cast his eye towards his own natal soil; on beholding which, he
fetched a deep sigh, and, if I was not mistaken, I saw a rising tear.
"Alas!" said he, "my country and my countrymen, how different you are in
many respects from what I should wish you to be! And yet I do not love
you the less. Perhaps I love you the more for your faults, as well as
for your misfortunes.
"Our lot," continued he, "is a hard one. That quarter of the world has
sent letters, and arts, and religion abroad to adorn and benefit the
other four; and these, the chief of human blessings and glories, have
deserted us!"
I told him that I had heard the honours, which he claimed for India,
attributed to Egypt. He contended, with true love of country, great
plausibility, and an intimate knowledge of Oriental history, that letters
and the arts had been first transplanted from Asia into Egypt.
"No other part of Africa," said he, "saving Egypt, can boast of any
ancient monuments of the arts or of civilization. Even the pyramids,
the great boast of Egypt, are proofs of nothing more than ordinary patient
labour, directed by despotic power. Besides, look at that vast region,
extending five thousand miles from the Mediterranean to the Cape of Good
Hope, and four thousand from the Red Sea to the Atlantic. Its immense
surface contains only ignorant barbarians, who are as uncivilized now as
they were three thousand years ago. Is it likely that if civilization and
letters originated in Egypt, as is sometimes pretended, it would have
spread so extensively in one direction, and not at all in another?
I make no exception in favour of the Carthagenians, whose origin was
comparatively recent, and who, we know, were a colony from Asia."
I was obliged to admit the force of this reasoning; and, when he proceeded
to descant on the former glories and achievements of Asiatic nations,
and their sad reverses of fortune--while he freely spoke of the present
degradation and imbecility of his countrymen, he promptly resisted every
censure of mine. It was easy, indeed, to see that he secretly cherished
a hope that the day would come, when the whole of Hindostan would be
emancipated from its European masters, and assume that rank among nations
to which the genius of its inhabitants entitled it. He admitted that the
dominion of the English was less oppressive than that of their native
princes; but said, that there was this great difference between foreign
and domestic despotism,--that the former completely extinguished all
national pride, which is as much the cause as the effect of national
I asked him whether he thought if his countrymen were to shake off the
yoke of the English, they could maintain their independence?
"Undoubtedly," said he. "Who would be able to conquer us?"
I suggested to him that they might tempt the ambition of Russia; and
cautiously inquired, whether the abstinence from animal food might not
render his country much less capable of resistance; and whether it might
not serve to explain why India had so often been the prey of foreign
conquest? Of this, however, he would hear nothing; but replied, with
more impatience than was usual with him--
"It is true, Hindostan was invaded by Alexander--but not conquered; and
that it has since submitted, in succession, to the Arabians, to the
Tartars, under Genghis Khan, and under Tamerlane; to the Persians, under
Nadir Shah, and, finally, to the British. But there are few countries
of Europe which have not been conquered as often. That nation from which
you are descended, and to which mine is now subject, furnishes no
exception, as it has been subjugated, in succession, by the Romans, the
Danes, the Saxons, the Normans. And, as to courage, we see no difference
between those Asiatics who eat animal food as you do, and those who
abstain from it as I do. I am told that the Scotch peasantry eat much
less animal food than the English, and the Irish far less than they; and
yet, that these rank among the best troops of the British. But surely a
nation ought not to be suspected of fearing death, whose very women show
a contempt of life which no other people have exhibited."
This led us to talk of that strange custom of his country, which impels
the widow to throw herself on the funeral pile of her husband, and to be
consumed with him. I told him that it had often been represented as
compulsory--or, in other words, that it was said that every art and means
were resorted to, for the purpose of working on the mind of the woman, by
her relatives, aided by the priests, who would be naturally gratified by
such signal triumphs of religion over the strongest feelings of nature. He
admitted that these engines were sometimes put in operation, and that
they impelled to the sacrifice, some who were wavering; but insisted, that
in a majority of instances the _Suttee_ was voluntary.
"Women," said he, "are brought up from their infancy, to regard our sex
as their superiors, and to believe that their greatest merit consists in
entire devotion to their husbands. Under this feeling, and having, at
the same time, their attention frequently turned to the chance of such a
calamity, they are better prepared to meet it when it occurs. How few of
the officers in your western armies, ever hesitate to march, at the head
of their men, on a forlorn hope? and how many even court the danger for
the sake of the glory? Nay, you tell me that, according to your code of
honour, if one man insults another, he who gives the provocation, and he
who receives it, rather than be disgraced in the eyes of their countrymen,
will go out, and quietly shoot at each other with firearms, till one of
them is killed or wounded; and this too, in many cases, when the injury
has been merely nominal. If you show such a contempt of death, in
deference to a custom founded in mere caprice, can it be wondered that
a woman should show it, in the first paroxysms of her grief for the
loss of him to whom was devoted every thought, word, and action of her
life, and who, next to her God, was the object of her idolatry? My dear
Atterley," he continued, with emotion, "you little know the strength of
woman's love!"
Here he abruptly broke off the conversation; and, after continuing
thoughtful and silent for some time, he remarked:
"But do not forget where we are. Nature demands her accustomed rest, and
let us prepare to indulge her. I feel little inclined to sleep at
present; yet, by the time you have taken some hours' repose, I shall
probably require the same refreshment."
I would willingly have listened longer; but, yielding to his prudent
suggestion, again composed myself to rest, and left my good monitor to
his melancholy meditations. When I had slept about four hours, I was
awakened by the Brahmin, in whose arms I found myself, and who, feeble
as he was, handled me with the ease that a nurse does a child, or rather,
as a child does her doll. On looking around, I found myself lying on what
had been the ceiling of our chamber, which still, however, felt like the
bottom. My eyes and my feelings were thus in collision, and I could only
account for what I saw, by supposing that the machine had been turned
upside down. I was bewildered and alarmed.
After enjoying my surprise for a moment, the Brahmin observed: "We have,
while you were asleep, passed the middle point between the earth's and the
moon's attraction, and we now gravitate less towards our own planet than
her satellite. I took the precaution to move you, before you fell by your
own gravity, from what was lately the bottom, to that which is now so,
and to keep you in this place until you were retained in it by the moon's
attraction; for, though your fall would have been, at this point, like
that of a feather, yet it would have given you some shock and alarm. The
machine, therefore, has undergone no change in its position or course;
the change is altogether in our feelings."
The Brahmin then, after having looked through either telescope, but for
a longer time through the one at the bottom, and having performed his
customary devotions, soon fell into a slumber, but not into the same
quiet sleep as before, for he was often interrupted by sudden starts,
of so distressing a character, that I was almost tempted to wake him.
After a while, however, he seemed more composed, when I betook myself
to the telescope turned towards the earth.
The earth's appearance I found so diminished as not to exceed four times
the diameter of the moon, as seen from the earth, and its whole face was
entirely changed. After the first surprise, I recollected it was the
moon I was then regarding, and my curiosity was greatly awakened. On
raising myself up, and looking through the upper telescope, the earth
presented an appearance not very dissimilar; but the outline of her
continents and oceans were still perceptible, in different shades, and
capable of being easily recognised; but the bright glare of the sun made
the surfaces of both bodies rather dim and pale.
After a short interval, I again looked at the moon, and found not only
its magnitude very greatly increased, but that it was beginning to
present a more beautiful spectacle. The sun's rays fell obliquely on
her disc, so that by a large part of its surface not reflecting the light,
I saw every object on it, so far as I was enabled by the power of my
telescope. Its mountains, lakes, seas, continents, and islands, were
faintly, though not indistinctly, traced; and every moment brought
forth something new to catch my eye, and awaken my curiosity. The
whole face of the moon was of a silvery hue, relieved and varied by the
softest and most delicate shades. No cloud nor speck of vapour intercepted
my view. One of my exclamations of delight awakened the Brahmin, who
quickly arose, and looking down on the resplendent orb below us, observed
that we must soon begin to slacken the rapidity of our course, by
throwing out ballast. The moon's dimensions now rapidly increased; the
separate mountains, which formed the ridges and chains on her surface,
began to be plainly visible through the telescope; whilst, on the shaded
side, several volcanoes appeared upon her disc, like the flashes of
our fire-fly, or rather like the twinkling of stars in a frosty night.
He remarked, that the extraordinary clearness and brightness of the
objects on the moon's surface, was owing to her having a less extensive
and more transparent atmosphere than the earth: adding--"The difference
is so great, that some of our astronomical observers have been induced
to think she has none. If that, however, had been the case, our voyage
would have been impracticable."
After gazing at the magnificent spectacle, with admiration and delight,
for half an hour, the Brahmin loosed one of the balls of the lunar metal,
for the purpose of checking our velocity. At this time he supposed we
were not more than four thousand miles, or about twice the moon's
diameter, from the nearest point of her surface. In about four hours
more, her apparent magnitude was so great, that we could see her by
looking out of either of the dark side-windows. Her disc had now lost
its former silvery appearance, and began to look more like that of the
earth, when seen at the same distance. It was a most gratifying spectacle
to behold the objects successively rising to our view, and steadily
enlarging in their dimensions. The rapidity with which we approached the
moon, impressed me, in spite of myself, with the alarming sensation of
falling; and I found myself alternately agitated with a sense of this
danger, and with impatience to take a nearer view of the new objects that
greeted my eyes. The Brahmin was wholly absorbed in calculations for the
purpose of adjusting our velocity to the distance we had to go, his
estimates of which, however, were in a great measure conjectural; and
ever and anon he would let off a ball of the lunar metal.
After a few hours, we were so near the moon that every object was seen in
our glass, as distinctly as the shells or marine plants through a piece
of shallow sea-water, though the eye could take in but a small part of
her surface, and the horizon, which bounded our view, was rapidly
contracting. On letting the air escape from our machine, it did not now
rush out with the same violence as before, which showed that we were
within the moon's atmosphere. This, as well as ridding ourselves of the
metal balls, aided in checking our progress. By and bye we were within a
few miles of the highest mountains, when we threw down so much of our
ballast, that we soon appeared almost stationary. The Brahmin remarked,
that he should avail himself of the currents of air we might meet with,
to select a favourable place for landing, though we were necessarily
attracted towards the same region, in consequence of the same half of
the moon's surface being always turned towards the earth.
"In our second voyage," said he, "we were glad to get foothold any where;
for, not having lightened our machine sufficiently, we came down, with a
considerable concussion, on a barren field, remote from any human
habitation, and suffered more from hunger and cold, for nearly three days,
than we had done from the perils and privations of the voyage. The next
time we aimed at landing near the town of Alamatua, which stands, as you
may see, a little to the right of us, upon an island in a lake, and looks
like an emerald set in silver. We came down very gently, it is true, but
we struck one of the numerous boats which ply around the island, and had
nearly occasioned the loss of our lives, as well as of theirs. In our
last voyage we were every way fortunate. The first part of the moon we
approached, was a level plain, of great extent, divided into corn-fields,
on which, having lowered our grapnel, we drew ourselves down without
"We must now," continued he, "look out for some cultivated field, in one
of the valleys we are approaching, where we may rely on being not far
from some human abode, and on escaping the perils of rocks, trees, and
While the Brahmin was speaking, a gentle breeze arose, as appeared by our
horizontal motion, which wafted us at the rate of about ten miles an hour,
in succession, over a ridge of mountains, a lake, a thick wood, and a
second lake, until at length we reached a cultivated region, recognised
by the Brahmin as the country of the Morosofs, the place we were most
anxious to reach.
"Let off two of the balls of lead to the earth," said he. I did so, and
we descended rapidly. When we were sufficiently near the ground to see
that it was a fit place for landing, we opened the door, and found the
air of the moon inconceivably sweet and refreshing. We now loosed one of
the lower balls, and somewhat checked our descent. In a few minutes more,
however, we were within twenty yards of the ground, when we let go the
largest ball of lunarium, which, having a cord attached to it, served us
in lieu of a grapnel. It descended with great force to the ground, while
the machine, thus lightened, was disposed to mount again. We, however,
drew ourselves down; and as soon as the machine touched the ground,
we let off some of our leaden balls to keep it there. We released
ourselves from the machine in a twinkling; and our first impulse was
to fall on our knees, and return thanks for our safe deliverance from
the many perils of the voyage.
_Some account of Morosofia, and its chief city Alamatua--Singular
dresses of the Lunar ladies--Religious self denial--Glouglim miser and
spendthrift._
My feelings, at the moment I touched the ground, repayed me for all I
had endured. I looked around with the most intense curiosity; but nothing
that I saw, surprised me so much as to find so little that was surprising.
The vegetation, insects and other animals, were all pretty much of the
same character as those I had seen before; but after I became better
acquainted with them, I found the difference to be much greater than I at
first supposed. Having refreshed ourselves with the remains of our stores,
and secured the door of our machine, we bent our course, by a plain road,
towards the town we saw on the side of a mountain, about three miles
distant, and entered it a little before the sun had descended behind the
adjacent mountain.
The town of Alamatua seemed to contain about two thousand houses, and to
be not quite as large as Albany. The houses were built of a soft shining
stone, and they all had porticoes, piazzas, and verandas, suited to the
tropical climate of Morosofia. The people were tall and thin, of a pale
yellowish complexion; and their garments light, loose, and flowing, and
not very different from those of the Turks. The lower order of people
commonly wore but a single garment, which passed round the waist. One
half the houses were under ground, partly to screen them from the continued
action of the sun's rays, and partly on account of the earthquakes caused
by volcanoes. The windows of their houses were different from any I had
ever seen before. They consisted of openings in the wall, sloping so
much upwards, that while they freely admitted the light and air, the sun
was completely excluded: and although those who were within could readily
see what was passing in the streets, they were concealed from the gaze of
the curious. In their hot-houses, it was common to have mirrors in the
ceilings, which at once reflected the street passengers to those who were
on the floor, and enabled the ostentatious to display to the public eye
the decorations of their tables, whenever they gave a sumptuous feast.
The inhabitants subsist chiefly on a vegetable diet; live about as long
as they do on the earth, notwithstanding the great difference of climate,
and other circumstances; and, in short, do not, in their manners, habits,
or character, differ more from the inhabitants of our planet, than some of
these differ from one another. Their government was anciently monarchical,
but is now popular. Their code of laws is said to be very intricate. Their
language, naturally soft and musical, has been yet further refined by the
cultivation of letters. They have a variety of sects in religion,
politics, and philosophy. The territory of Morosofia is about 150 miles
square. This brief sketch must content the reader for the present. I refer
those who are desirous of being more particularly informed, to the work
which I propose to publish on lunar geography; and, in the mean time,
some of the most striking peculiarities of this people, in opinions,
manners, and customs, will be developed in this, which must be considered
as my _personal narrative_.
As soon as we were espied by the inhabitants, we were surrounded by a
troop of little boys, as well as all the idle and inquisitive near us.
The Brahmin had not gone far, before he was met by some persons of his
acquaintance, who immediately recognised him, and seemed very much pleased
to see him again in the moon. They politely conducted us to the house of
the governor, who received us very graciously. He appeared to be about
forty-five years of age, was dressed in a pearl-coloured suit, and had a
mild, amiable deportment. He began a course of interesting inquiry about
the affairs of the earth; but a gentleman, whom we afterwards understood
was one of the leaders of the popular party, coming in, he soon despatched
us; having, however, first directed an officer to furnish us with all
that was necessary for our accommodation, at the public expense--which
act of hospitality, we have reason to fear, occasioned him some trouble
and perplexity at the succeeding election. We very gladly withdrew, as
both by reason of our long walk, and the excitement produced by so many
new objects, we were greatly fatigued. The officer conducted us to
respectable private lodgings, in a lightsome situation, which overlooked
the chief part of the city.
After a frugal, but not unpalatable repast, and a few hours' sleep,
the Brahmin took me round the city and a part of its environs, to make me
acquainted with the public buildings, streets, shops, and the appearance
of the inhabitants. I soon found that our arrival was generally known
and that we excited quite as much curiosity as we felt, though many of
the persons we met had seen the Brahmin before. I was surprised that we
saw none of their women; but the Brahmin told me that they were every
where gazing through their windows; and, on looking up, through these
slanting apertures I could often see their eyes peeping over the upper
edge of the window-sill.
I shall now proceed to record faithfully what I deem most memorable; not
as many travellers have done, from their recollection, after their return
home, but from notes, which I regularly made, either at the moment of
observation, or very shortly afterwards. When we first visited the shops,
I was equally gratified and surprised with what was familiar and what was
new; but I was particularly amused with those of the tailors and milliners.
In the lower part of their dress, the Lunarians chiefly resemble the
Europeans; but in the upper part, the Asiatics--for they shave the head,
and wear turbans; from which fact the Brahmin drew another argument in
favour of the hypothesis, that the moon was originally a part of the
earth. Some of the female fashions were so extremely singular and
fanciful, as to deserve particular mention.
One piece of their attire was formed of a long piece of light stiff
wood, covered with silk, and decorated with showy ornaments. It was
worn across the shoulders, beyond each of which it jutted out about half
a yard; and from either end a cord led to a ring running round the upper
part of the head, bearing no small resemblance to the yard of a ship's
mast, and the ropes used for steering it. Several other dresses I
saw, which I am satisfied would be highly disapproved by my modest
countrywomen. Thus, in some were inserted glasses like watch crystals,
adapted to the form and size of the female bosom. But, to do the Lunar
ladies justice, I understood that these dresses were condemned by the
sedate part of the sex, and were worn only by the young and thoughtless,
who were vain of their forms. I observed too, that instead of decorating
their heads with flowers, like the ladies of our earth, they taxed the
animal world for a correspondent ornament. Many of the head-dresses were
made of a stiff open gauze, occasionally stuck over with insects of the
butterfly and _coccinella_ species, and others of the gayest hues. At
other times these insects were alive; when their perpetual buzzing and
fluttering in their transparent cages, had a very animating effect. One
decoration for the head in particular struck my fancy: it was formed of a
silver tissue, containing fireflies, and intended to be worn in the night.
But the most remarkable thing of all, was the whim of the ladies in
the upper classes, of making themselves as much like birds as possible;
in which art, it must be confessed, they were wonderfully successful.
The dress used for this purpose, consisted of a sort of thick cloak,
covered with feathers, like those of the South Sea islands, and was so
fashioned, by means of a tight thick quilting, as to make the wearer, at
a little distance, very much resemble an overgrown bird, except that the
legs were somewhat too thick. Their arms were concealed under the wings;
and the resemblance was yet further increased, by marks with beaks adapted
to the particular plumage: some personating doves, some magpies; others
again, hawks, parrots, &c., according to their natural figure, humour,
&c.; while the deception was still further assisted by their extraordinary
agility, compared with ours, by means of which they could, with ease,
hop eighteen or twenty feet. I told the Brahmin that some of the Indians
of our continent showed a similar taste in dress, by decorating themselves
with horns like the buffalo, and with tails like horses; which furnished
him with a further argument in favour of a common origin.
We spent above an hour in examining these curious habiliments, and in
inquiring the purposes and uses of the several parts. Sometimes I was
induced, through the Brahmin, to criticise their taste and skill, having
been always an admirer of simplicity in female attire. But I remarked
on this occasion, as on several others, subsequently, that the people of
the moon were neither very thankful for advice, nor thought very highly
of the judgment of those who differ from them in opinion.
After having rambled over the city about six hours, our appetites told
us it was time to return to our lodgings; and here I met with a new
cause of wonder. The family with whom we were domesticated, belonged
to a numerous and zealous sect of religionists, and were, in their way,
very worthy, as well as pious people. Their dinner consisted of several
dishes of vegetables, variously served up; of roots, stalks, seeds,
flowers, and fruits, some of which resembled the productions of the
earth; and in particular, I saw a dish of what I at first took to be
very fine asparagus, but supposed I was mistaken, when I saw them eat
the coarse fibrous part alone. On tasting it, however, in the ordinary
way, I found it to be genuine, good asparagus; but I perceived that the
family looked extremely shocked at my taste. After the other dishes were
removed, some large fruit, of the peach kind, were set on the table,
when the members of the family, having carefully paired off the skin,
ate it, and threw the rest away. They in like manner chewed the shells
of some small grayish nuts, and threw away the kernels, which to me were
very palatable. The younger children, consisting of two boys and a girl,
exchanged looks with each other at the selections I made, and I thought
I perceived in the looks of the mother, still more aversion than surprise.
I found too, that my friend the Brahmin abstained from all these things,
and partook only of those vegetables and fruits of which both they and I
ate alike. Some wine was offered us, which appeared to me to be neither
more nor less than vinegar; and, what added to my surprise, a bottle,
which they said was not yet fit to drink, seemed to me to be pretty good,
the Brahmin having passed it to me for my judgment, as soon as they
pronounced upon it sentence of condemnation.
After we arose from this strange scene, and had withdrawn to our chamber,
I expressed my surprise to my companion at this contrariety in the tastes
of the Terrestrials and Lunarians: whereupon he told me, that the
difference was rather apparent than real.
"These people," said he, "belong to a sect of Ascetics in this country,
who are persuaded that all pleasure received through the senses is sinful,
and that man never appears so acceptable in the sight of the Deity, as
when he rejects all the delicacies of the palate, as well as other
sensual gratifications, and imposes on himself that food to which he
feels naturally most repugnant. You may see that those peaches, which
were so disdainfully thrown into the yard, are often secretly picked up
by the children, who obey the impulses of nature, and devour them most
greedily. Even in the old people themselves, there is occasionally some
backsliding into the depravity of worldly appetite. You might have
perceived, that while the old man was abusing the wine you drank as
unripe, and making wry faces at it, he still kept tasting it; and if I
had not reached it to you, he would probably, before he had ceased his
meditations, have finished half the bottle. It must be confessed, that
although religion cherishes our best feelings, it also often proves a
cloak for the worst."
I told him that our clergy were superior to this weakness, most of them
manifesting a proper sense of the bounty of Providence, by eating and
drinking of the best, (not very sparingly neither); and that in New-York,
we considered some of our preachers the best judges of wine among us. Soon
afterwards, we again sallied forth in quest of adventures, and bent our
course towards the suburbs.
We had not gone far, before we saw several persons looking at a man
working hard at a forge, in a low crazy building. On approaching him, we
found he was engaged in making nails, an operation which he performed
with great skill and adroitness; and as soon as he had made as many
as he could take up in his hand at once, he carried them behind his
little hovel, and dropped them into a narrow deep well. Some of the
by-standers wished to beg a few of what he seemed to value so lightly,
and others offered to give him bread or clothes in exchange for his
nails, but he obstinately resisted all their applications; in fact,
little heeding them, although he was almost naked, had a starved, haggard
appearance, and evidently regarded the food they proffered with a
wishful eye.
The lookers on told us the blacksmith had been for years engaged in this
business of nail-making; he worked with little intermission, scarcely
allowing himself time for necessary sleep or refreshment; that all the
fruits of his incessant labour were disposed of in the manner we had
just seen; and that he had already three wells filled with nails, which
he had carefully closed. He had, moreover, a large and productive farm,
the increase arising from which, was laid out in exchange for the metal
of which his nails were made. He had, we were informed, so much attachment
to these pieces of metal, that he was often on the point of starvation
before he would part with one.
I observed to the Brahmin, that it was a singular, and somewhat
inexplicable, species of madness.
"True," he replied; "this man's conduct cannot be explained upon any
rational principles--but he is one of the Glonglims, of which I have
spoken to you; and examples are not wanting on our planet, of conduct
as irreconcilable to reason. This man is making an article which is
scarce, as well as useful, in this country, where gravity is less than
it is with us: the force of the wind is very great, and the metal is
possessed but by a few. Now, if you suppose these nails to be pieces
of gold and silver, his conduct will be precisely that of some of our
misers, who waste their days and nights in hoarding up wealth which they
never use, nor mean to use; but, denying themselves every comfort of
life, anxiously and unceasingly toil for those who are to come after
them, though they are so far from feeling, towards these successors,
any peculiar affection, that they often regard them with jealousy and
While we thus conversed, there stepped up to us a handsome man, foppishly
dressed in blue trowsers, a pink vest, and a red and white turban; who,
after having shaken my companion by the ears, according to the custom of
the country among intimate friends, expressed his delight at seeing him
again in Morosofia. He then went on, in a lively, humorous strain, to
ridicule the nail-smith, and told us several stories of his singular
attachment to his nails. In the midst of these sallies, however, a harsh
looking personage in brown came up, upon which the countenance of our
lively acquaintance suddenly changed, and they walked off together.
"I apprehend," said the Brahmin, "that my gay acquaintance yonder
continues as he formerly was. The man in brown, who so unseasonably
interrupted his pleasantry, is an officer of justice, and has probably
taken him before a magistrate, to answer some one of his numerous
creditors. You must know," added he, "that the people of the moon,
however irrational themselves, are very prompt in perceiving the
absurdities of others: and this lively wit, who, as you see, wants neither
parts nor address, acts as strangely as the wretch he has been ridiculing.
He inherited a large estate, which brought him in a princely revenue;
and yet his desires and expenses so far outgo his means, that he is
always in want. Both he and the nailmaker suffer the evils of poverty--
of poverty created by themselves--which, moreover, they can terminate
when they please; but they must reach the same point by directly opposite
roads. The blacksmith will allow himself nothing--the beau will deny
himself nothing: the one is a slave to pleasure--the other, the victim
of fear. I told you that there were but few whose estates produced the
metal of which these nails are made; and this thoughtless youth happens
to be one. A few years since, he wanted some of the blacksmith's nails
to purchase the first rose of the season, and pledged his mines to pay,
at the end of the year, three times the amount he received in exchange;
and although, if he were to use but half his income for a single year,
the other half would discharge his debts. I apprehend, from what I have
heard, that he has, from that time to this, continued to pay the same
exorbitant interest. When I was here before, I prevailed on him to take
a ride with me into the country, and, under one pretext or another,
detained him ten days at a friend's house, where he had no inducement
to expense. When he returned, he found his debts paid off; but knowing
he was master of so ready and effectual an expedient, he, the next day,
borrowed double the sum at the old rate. Since that time his debts have
accumulated so rapidly, that he will probably now be compelled to
surrender his whole estate."
"Is he also a Glonglim?" I asked.
"Assuredly: what man, in his entire senses, could act so irrationally?"
"There is nothing on earth that exceeds this," said I.
"No," said the Brahmin; "human folly is every where the same."
CHAPTER VII.
_Physical peculiarities of the Moon-Celestial phenomena--Further
description of the Lunarians--National prejudice--Lightness of bodies--The
Brahmin carries Atterley to sup with a philosopher--His character and
After we had been in the moon about forty eight hours, the sun had sunk
below the horizon, and the long twilight of the Lunarians had begun. I will
here take occasion to notice the physical peculiarities of this country,
which, though very familiar to those who are versed in astronomy, may not
be unacceptable to the less scientific portion of my readers.
The sun is above the horizon nearly a fortnight, and below it as long; of
course the day here is equal to about twenty-seven of ours. The earth
answers the same purpose to half the inhabitants of the moon, that the moon
does to the inhabitants of the earth. The face of the latter, however, is
more than twelve times as large, and it has not the same silvery appearance
as the moon, but is rather of a dingy pink hue, like that of her iron when
beginning to lose its red heat. As the same part of the moon is always
turned to the earth, one half of her surface is perpetually illuminated by
a moon ten times as large to the eye as the sun; the other hemisphere is
without a moon. The favoured part, therefore, never experiences total
darkness, the earth reflecting to the Lunarians as much light as we
terrestrials have a little before sunrise, or after sunset. But our planet
presents to the Lunarians the same changes as the moon does to us,
according to its position in relation to the sun. It always, however,
appears to occupy nearly the same part of the heavens, when seen from the
same point on the moon's surface; but its altitude above the horizon is
greater or less, according to the latitude of the place from which it is
seen: so that there is not a point of the heavens which the earth may not
be seen permanently to occupy, according to the part of the moon from which
the planet is viewed.
From the length of time that the sun is above the horizon, the continued
action of his rays, in those climates where they fall vertically, or nearly
so, would be intolerable, if it was not for the high mountains, from whose
snow-clad summits a perpetual breeze derives a refreshing coolness, and for
the deep glens and recesses, in which most animals seek protection from his
meridian beams. The transitions from heat to cold are less than one would
expect, from the length of their days and nights--the coolness of the one,
as well as the heat of the other, being tempered by a constant east wind.
The climate gradually becomes colder as we approach the Poles; but there is
little or no change of seasons in the same latitude.
The inhabitants of the moon have not the same regularity in their meals, or
time for sleep, as we have, but consult their appetites and inclinations
like other animals. But they make amends for this irregularity, by a very
strict and punctilious observance of festivals, which are regulated by the
motions of the sun, at whose rising and setting they have their appropriate
ceremonies. Those which are kept at sunrise, are gay and cheerful, like the
hopes which the approach of that benignant luminary inspires. The others
are of a grave and sober character, as if to prepare the mind for serious
contemplation in their long-enduring night. When the earth is at the full,
which is their midnight, it is also a season of great festivity with them.
_Eclipses of the sun_ are as common with the Lunarians as those of the
moon are with us--the same relative position of the three bodies producing
this phenomenon; but an _eclipse of the earth_ never takes place, as
the shadow of the moon passes over the broad disc of our planet, merely as
a dark spot.
The inhabitants of the moon can always determine both their latitude and
longitude, by observing the quarter of the heavens in which the earth is
seen: and, as the sun invariably appears of the same altitude at their
noon, the inhabitants are denominated and classed according to the length
of their shadows; and the terms _long shadow_, or _short shadow_, are
common forms of national reproach among them, according to the relative
position of the parties. I found the climate of those whose shadows are
about the length of their own figure, the most agreeably to my own
feelings, and most like that of my own country.
Such are the most striking natural appearances on one side of this
satellite. On the other there is some difference. The sun pursues the same
path in the corresponding latitudes of both hemispheres; but being without
any moon, they have a dull and dreary night, though the light from the
stars is much greater than with us. The science of astronomy is much
cultivated by the inhabitants of the dark hemisphere, and is indebted to
them for its most important discoveries, and its present high state of
improvement.
If there is much rivalship among the natives of the same hemisphere, who
differ in the length of their shadows, they all unite in hatred and
contempt for the inhabitants of the opposite side. Those who have the
benefit of a moon, that is, who are turned towards the earth, are lively,
indolent, and changeable as the face of the luminary on which they pride
themselves; while those on the other side are more grave, sedate, and
industrious. The first are called the Hilliboos, and the last the
Moriboos--or bright nights, and dark nights. And this mutual animosity is
the more remarkable, as they often appeared to me to be the same race, and
to differ much less from one another than the natives of different
climates. It is true, that enlightened and well educated men do not seem to
feel this prejudice, or at least they do not show it: but those who travel
from one hemisphere to the other, are sure to encounter the prejudices of
the vulgar, and are often treated with great contempt and indignity. They
are pointed at by the children, who, according as they chance to have been
bred on one side or the other say, "There goes a man who never saw
Glootin," as they call the earth; or, "There goes a Booblimak," which means
a night stroller.
All bodies are much lighter on the moon than on the earth; by reason of
which circumstance, as has been mentioned, the inhabitants are more active,
and experience much less fatigue in ascending their precipitous mountains.
I was astonished at first at this seeming increase in my muscular powers;
when, on passing along a street in Alamatua, soon after my arrival, and
meeting a dog, which I thought to be mad, I proposed to run out of his way,
and in leaping over a gutter, I fairly bounded across the street. I
measured the distance the next day, and found it to be twenty-seven feet
five inches; and afterwards frequently saw the school-boys, when engaged in
athletic exercises, make running leaps of between thirty and forty feet,
backwards and forwards. Another consequence of the diminished gravity here
is, that both men and animals carry much greater burdens than on the earth.
The carriages are drawn altogether by dogs, which are the largest animals
they have, except the zebra, and a small buffalo. This diminution of
gravity is, however, of some disadvantage to them. Many of their tools are
not as efficient as ours, especially their axes, hoes, and hammers. On the
other hand, when a person falls to the ground, it is nearly the same thing
as if an inhabitant of the earth were to fall on a feather bed. Yet I saw
as many instances of fractured limbs, hernia, and other accidents there, as
I ever saw on the earth; for when they fall from great heights, or miscarry
in the feats of activity which they ambitiously attempt, it inflicts the
same injury upon them, as a fall nearer the ground does upon us.
After we had been here sufficiently long to see what was most remarkable in
the city, and I had committed the fruit of my observations to paper, the
Brahmin proposed to carry me to one of the monthly suppers of a philosopher
whom he knew, and who had obtained great celebrity by his writings and
We accordingly went, and found him sitting at a small table, and apparently
exhausted with the labour of composition, and the ardour of intense
thought. He was a small man, of quick, abrupt manners, occasionally very
abstracted, but more frequently voluble, earnest, and disputatious. He
frankly told us he was sorry to see us, as he was then putting the last
finish to a great and useful work he was about to publish: that we had thus
unseasonably broken the current of his thoughts, and he might not be able
to revive it for some days. Upon my rising to take my leave, he assured me
that it would be adding to the injury already done, if we then quitted him.
He said he wished to learn the particulars of our voyage; and that he, in
turn, should certainly render us service, by disclosing some of the results
of his own reflections. He further remarked, that he expected six or eight
friends--that is, (correcting himself,) "enlightened and congenial minds,"
to supper, on the rising of a constellation he named, which time, he
remarked, would soon arrive. Finding his frankness to be thus seasoned with
hospitality, we resumed our seats. It soon appeared that he was more
disposed to communicate information than to seek it; and I became a patient
listener. If the boldness and strangeness of his opinions occasionally
startled me, I could not but admire the clearness with which he stated his
propositions, the fervour of his elocution, and the plausibility of his
The expected guests at length arrived; and various questions of morals and
legislation were started, in which the disputants seemed sometimes as if
they would have laid aside the character of philosophers, but for the
seasonable interposition of the Brahmin. Wigurd, our host, often laboured
with his accustomed zeal, to prove that every one who opposed him, was
either a fool, or biassed by some petty interest, or the dupe of blind
After about two hours of warm, and, as it seemed to me, unprofitable
discussion, we were summoned to our repast in the adjoining room. But
before we rose from our seats, our host requested to know of each of us if
we were hungry; and, whether it were from modesty, perverseness, or really
because they had no appetite, I know not, but a majority of the company, in
which I was included, voted that their hour of eating was not yet come:
upon which Wigurd remarked that his own vote, as being at home, and the
Brahmin's, as being at once a philosopher and a stranger, should each count
for two; and by this mode of reckoning there was a casting vote in favour
of going to supper.
We found the table covered with tempting dishes, served up in a costly and
tasteful style, and a sprightly, well-looking female prepared to do the
honours of the feast. She reproved our host for his delay, and told him the
best dish was spoiled, by being cold. I was fearful of a discussion; but he
sat down without making a reply, and immediately addressing the company,
descanted on the various qualities of food, and their several adaptations
to different ages, constitutions, and temperaments. He condemned the absurd
practice which prevailed, for the master or mistress of the house to lavish
entreaties on their guests to eat that which they might be better without;
and insisted, at the same time, that the guests ought not to consult their
own tastes exclusively. He maintained, that the only course worthy of
rational and benevolent beings, was for every man to judge for his
neighbour as well as for himself; and, should any collision arise between
the different claimants, then, if any one were guided by that decision,
which an honest and unbiassed judgment would tell him was right, they would
all come to the same just and harmonious result.
"But," added he, "you have not yet been sufficiently prepared for this
disinterested operation. As ye have proved this night that ye are not yet
purged of the feelings and prejudices of a vicious education, I will
perform this office for you all, and set you an example, by which ye may
hereafter profit. To begin, then, with you--(addressing himself to a
corpulent man, of a florid complexion, at the lower end of the table:)--As
you already have a redundancy of flesh and blood, I assign the _soupe
maigre_ to you; while to our mathematical friend on this side, whose
delicate constitution requires nourishment, I recommend the smoking ragout.
This cooling dish will suit your temperament," said he to a third; "and
this stimulating one, yours," to a fourth. "Those little birds, which cost
me five pieces, I shall divide between my terrestrial friend here (looking
at the Brahmin) and myself, we being the most meritorious of the company,
and it being of the utmost importance to society, that food so wholesome
should give nourishment to our bodies, and impart vigour and vivacity to
From this decision there was no appeal, and no other dissent than what was
expressed by a look or a low murmur. But I perceived the corpulent
gentleman and the wan mathematician slily exchange their dishes, by which
they both seemed to consider themselves gainers. The dish allotted to me,
being of a middling character, I ate of it without repining; though, from
the savoury fumes of my right-hand neighbour's plate, I could not help
wishing I had been allowed to choose for myself.
This supper happening near the middle of the night, (at which time it was
always pretty cool,) a cheerful fire blazed in one side of the room and I
perceived that our host and hostess placed themselves so as to be at the
most agreeable distance, the greater part of the guests being either too
near or too far from it.
After we had finished our repast, various subjects of speculation were
again introduced and discussed, greatly to my amusement. Wigurd displayed
his usual ingenuity and ardour, and baffled all his antagonists by his
vehemence and fluency. He had two great principles by which he tested the
good or evil of every thing; and there were few questions in which he could
not avail himself of one or the other. These were, general _utility_
and _truth_.
By a skilful use of these weapons of controversy, he could attack or defend
with equal success. If any custom or institution which he had denounced,
was justified by his adversaries, on the ground of its expediency, he
immediately retorted on them its repugnancy to sincerity, truth, and
unsophisticated nature; and if they, at any time, resorted to a similar
justification for our natural feelings and propensities, he triumphantly
showed that they were inimical to the public good. Thus, he condemned
gratitude as a sentiment calculated to weaken the sense of justice, and to
substitute feeling for reason. He, on the other hand, proscribed the little
forms and courtesies, which are either founded in convenience, or give a
grace and sweetness to social intercourse, as a direct violation of honest
nature, and therefore odious and mean. He thus was able to silence every
opponent. I was very desirous of hearing the Brahmin's opinion; but, while
he evidently was not convinced by our host's language, he declined engaging
in any controversy.
After we retired, my friend told me that Wigurd was a good man in the main,
though he had been as much hated by some as if his conduct had been
immoral, instead of his opinions merely being singular. "He not long ago,"
added the Brahmin "wrote a book against marriage, and soon afterwards
wedded, in due form, the lady you saw at his table. She holds as strange
tenets as he, which she supports with as much zeal, and almost as much
ability. But I predict that the popularity of their doctrines will not
last; and if ever you visit the moon again, you will find that their glory,
now at its height, like the ephemeral fashions of the earth, will have
passed away."
CHAPTER VIII.
_A celebrated physician: his ingenious theories in physics: his mechanical
inventions--The feather-hunting Glonglim._
On returning to our lodgings, we, acting under the influence of long habit,
went to bed, though half the family were up, and engaged in their ordinary
employments. One consequence of the length of the days and nights here is,
that every household is commonly divided into two parts, which watch and
sleep by turns: nor have they any uniformity in their meals, except in
particular families, which are regulated by clocks and time-pieces. The
vulgar have no means of measuring smaller portions of time than a day or
night, (each equal to a fortnight with us,) except by observing the
apparent motion of the sun or the stars, in which, considering that it is
nearly thirty times as slow as with us, they attain surprising accuracy.
They have the same short intervals of labour and rest in their long night
as their day--the light reflected from the earth, being commonly sufficient
to enable them to perform almost any operation; and, ere our planet is in
her second quarter, one may read the smallest print by her light.
To compensate their want of this natural advantage, the inhabitants of
Moriboozia are abundantly supplied with a petroleum, or bituminous liquid,
which is found every where about their lakes, or on their mountains, and
which they burn in lamps, of various sizes, shapes, and constructions. They
have also numerous volcanoes, each of which sheds a strong light for many
miles around.
We slept unusually long; and, owing in part to Wigurd's good cheer, I awoke
with a head-ache. I got up to take a long walk, which often relieves me
when suffering from that malady; and, on ascending the stairs, I met our
landlord's eldest daughter, a tall, graceful girl of twenty. I found she
was coming down backwards, which I took to be a mere girlish freak, or
perhaps a piece of coquetry, practised on myself: but I afterwards found,
that about the time the earth is at the full, the whole family pursued the
same course, and were very scrupulous in making their steps in this awkward
and inconvenient way, because it was one of the prescribed forms of their
As my head-ache became rather worse, than better, from my walk, the Brahmin
proposed to accompany me to the house of a celebrated physician, called
Vindar, who was also a botanist, chemist, and dentist, to consult him on my
case; and thither we forthwith proceeded. I found him a large, unwieldy
figure, of a dull, heavy look, but by no means deficient in science or
natural shrewdness. He confirmed my previous impression that I ought to
lose blood, and plausibly enough accounted for my present sensation of
fulness, from the inferior pressure of the lunar atmosphere to that which I
had been accustomed. He proposed, however, to return to my veins a portion
of thinner blood in place of what he should take away, and offered me the
choice of several animals, which he always kept by him for that purpose.
There were two white animals of the hog kind, a male and a female lama,
three goats, besides several birds, about the size of a turkey, some
tortoises, and other amphibious animals. He professed himself willing, in
case I had any foolish scruples against mixing my blood with that of
brutes, to purify my own, and put it back; but I obstinately declined both
expedients; whereupon he opened a vein in my arm, and took from it about
fourteen ounces of blood. Finding myself, weakened as well as relieved, by
the operation, he invited me to rest myself; and while I was recovering my
strength, he discoursed with the Brahmin and myself on several of his
favourite topics. On returning home, I committed to paper some of the most
remarkable of his opinions, which it may be as well to notice, that those
who have since propounded, or may hereafter propound, the same to the
world, may not claim the merit of originality.
He maintained that the number of our senses was greater than that commonly
assigned to us. That we had, for example, a sense of acids, of alkalies, of
weight, and of heat. That acid substances acted upon our bodies by a
peculiar set of nerves, or through some medium of their own, was evident
from this, that they set the teeth on edge, though these, from their hard
and bony nature, are insensible to the touch. That astringents shrivelled
up the flesh and puckered the mouth, even when their taste was not
perceived. That when the skin shrunk on the application of vinegar, could
it be said that it had not a peculiar sense of this liquid, or rather of
its acidity, since the existence of the senses was known only by effects
which external matter produced on them? That the senses, like that of
touch, were seated in most parts of the body, but were most acute in the
mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. He showed some disposition to maintain the
popular notions of the Greeks and Romans, that the rivers and streams are
endowed with reason and volition; and endeavoured to prove that some of
their windings and deviations from a straight line, cannot be explained
upon mechanical principles.
Vindar is, moreover, a projector of a very bold character; and not long ago
petitioned the commanding general of an army, suddenly raised to repel an
incursion of one of their neighbours, to march his troops into
Goolo-Tongtoia, for the purpose of digging a canal from one of their
petroleum lakes into Morosofia, and conducting it, by smaller streams, over
that country, for the purpose of warming it during their long cool nights.
He has, too, a large grist and saw mill, which are put in motion by the
explosion of gunpowder. This is conveyed, by a sufficiently ingenious
machine, in very small portions, to the bottom of an upright cylinder,
which is immediately shut perfectly close. A flint and steel are at the
same time made to strike directly over it, and to ignite the powder. The
air that is thus generated, forces up a piston through a cylinder, which
piston, striking the arm of a wheel, puts it in motion, and with it the
machinery of the mills. A complete revolution of the wheel again prepares
the cylinder for a fresh supply of gunpowder, which is set on fire, and
produces the same effect as before.
He told me he had been fifteen years perfecting this great work, in which
time it had been twice blown up by accidents, arising from the carelessness
or mismanagement of the workmen; but that he now expected it would repay
him for the time and money he had expended. He had once, he said, intended
to use the expansive force of congelation for his moving power; but he
found, after making a full and accurate calculation, that the labourers
required to keep the machine supplied with ice, consumed something more
than twice as much corn as the mill would grind in the same time. He then
was about to move it to a fine stream of water in the neighbourhood, which,
by being dammed up, so as to form a large pond, would afford him a
convenient and inexhaustible supply of ice. But the millwright, after the
dam was completed, having artfully obtained his permission to use the waste
water, and fraudulently erected there a common water-mill, which soon
obtained all the neighbouring custom, he had sold out that property, and
resorted to the agency of gunpowder, which is quite as philosophical a
process as that of congelation, and much less expensive. In answer to an
inquiry of the Brahmin's, he admitted, that though he had been able, by the
force of congelation, to burst metallic tubes several inches thick, he had
never succeeded in making it put the lightest machinery into a continued
Having now nearly recovered, and being, I confess, somewhat bewildered by
the variety and complexity of these ingenious projects, I felt disposed to
take my leave; but Vindar insisted on conducting us into an inner
apartment, to see his _poetry box_. This was a large piece of furniture,
profusely decorated with metals of various colours, curiously and
fantastically inlaid. It contained a prodigious number of drawers,
which were labelled after the manner of those in an apothecary's shop,
(from whence he denied, however, that he first took the hint,) and the
labels were arranged in alphabetical order.
"Now," says he, "as the excellence of poetry consists in bringing before
the mind's eye what can be brought before the corporeal eye, I have here
collected every object that is either beautiful or pleasing in nature,
whether by its form, colour, fragrance, sweetness, or other quality, as
well as those that are strikingly disagreeable. When I wish to exhibit
those pictures which constitute poetry, I consult the appropriate cabinet,
and I take my choice of those various substances which can best call up the
image I wish to present to my reader. For example: suppose I wish to speak
of any object that is white, or analogous to white, I open the drawer that
is thus labelled, and I see silver, lime, chalk, and white enamel, ivory,
paper, snow-drops, and alabaster, and select whichever of these substances
will best suit the measure and the rhyme, and has the most soft-sounding
name. If the colour be yellow, then there are substances of all shades of
this hue, from saffron and pickled salmon to brimstone and straw. I have
sixty-two red substances, twenty-seven green ones, and others in the same
proportion. It is astonishing what labour this box has saved me, and how
much it has added to the beauty and melody of my verse.
"You perceive," he added, "the drawer missing. That contained substances
offensive to the sight or smell, which my maid, conducted to it by her
nose, conceived to be some animal curiosities I had been collecting, in a
state of putrefaction and decay, and did not hesitate to throw them into
the fire. I afterwards found myself very much at a loss, whenever my
subject led me to the mention of objects of this character, and I therefore
spoke of them as seldom as possible." After bestowing that tribute of
admiration and praise which every great author or inventor expects, in his
own house, and not omitting his customary medical fee, we took our leave.
We had not long left Vindar's house, before we saw a short fat man in the
suburbs, preparing to climb to the top of a plane tree, on which there was
one of the tail feathers of a sort of flamingo. He was surrounded by
attendants and servants, to whom he issued his commands with great rapidity
and decision, occasionally intermingling with his orders the most
threatening language and furious gesticulations. Some offered to get a
ladder, and ascend, and others to cut down the tree; all of which he
obstinately rejected. He swore he would get the feather--he would get it by
climbing--and he would climb but one way, which way was on the shoulders of
his men. His plan was to make a number of them form a solid square, and
interlock their arms; then a smaller number to mount upon their shoulders,
on whom others were in like manner placed, and so on till the pyramid was
sufficiently high, when he himself was to mount, and from the shoulders of
the highest pluck the darling object of his wishes. He had in this way, I
afterwards learnt, gathered some of the richest flowers of the bignonia
scarlatina, as well as such fruits as had tempted him by their luscious
appearance, and at the same time frightening all the birds from their
nests, which he commonly destroyed: and although some of his attendants
were occasionally much hurt and bruised in this singular amusement, he
still persevered in it. He had continued it for several years, with no
intermission, except a short one, when he was engaged in breaking a young
llana in the place of an old one, which had been many years a favourite,
but was now in disgrace, because, as he said, he did not think it so safe
for going down hill, but in reality, because he liked the figure and
movements of the young one better.
I could not see this rash Glonglim attempt to climb that dangerous ladder,
without feeling alarm for his safety. At first all seemed to go on very
well; but just as he was about to lay hold of the gaudy prize, there arose
a sudden squall, which threw both him and his supporters into confusion,
and the whole living pyramid came to the ground together. Many were
killed--some were wounded and bruised. Polenap himself, by lighting on his
men, who served him as cushions, barely escaped with life. But he received
a fracture in the upper part of his head, and a dislocation of the hip,
which will not only prevent him from ever climbing again, but probably make
him a cripple for life.
The Brahmin and I endeavoured to give the sufferers some assistance; but
this was rendered unnecessary, by the crowd which their cries and
lamentations brought to their relief. I thought that the author of so much
mischief would have been stoned on the spot; but, to my surprise, his
servants seemed to feel as much for his honour as their own safety, and
warmly interfered in his behalf, until they had somewhat appeased the rage
of the surrounding multitude.
_The fortune-telling philosopher, who inspected the finger nails: his
visiters--Another philosopher, who judged of the character by the
hair--The fortune-teller duped--Predatory warfare._
As we returned to our lodgings, we saw a number of persons, some of whom
were entering and some leaving a neat small dwelling; and on joining the
throng, we learnt that a famous fortune-teller lived there, who, at
stated periods, opened his house to all that were willing to pay for
being instructed in the events of futurity, or for having the secrets of
the present or past revealed to them. On entering the house, and
descending a flight of steps, we found, at the farther end of a dark
room, lighted with a chandelier suspended from the ceiling, an elderly
man, with a long gray beard, and a thin, pale countenance, deeply
furrowed with thought rather than care. He received us politely, and
then resumed the duties of his vocation. His course of proceeding was to
examine the finger nails, and, according to their form, colour,
thickness, surface, and grain, to determine the character and destinies
of those who consulted him. I was at once pleased and surprised at the
minuteness of his observation, and the infinite variety of his
distinctions. Besides the qualities of the nails that I have mentioned,
he noticed some which altogether eluded my senses, such as their
milkiness, flintiness, friability, elasticity, tenacity, and
sensibility; whether they were aqueous, unctious, or mealy; with many
more, which have escaped my recollection.
A modest, pensive looking girl, apparently about seventeen, was timidly
holding forth her hand for examination, at the time we entered.
Avarabet, (for that was the name of this philosopher,) uttered two or
three words, with a significant shake of his head, upon which I saw the
rising tear in her eyes. She withdrew her hand, and had not courage to
let him take another look.
A fat woman, of a sanguine temperament, holding a little girl by the
hand, then stepped up and showed her fingers. He pronounced her amorous,
inconstant, prone to anger, and extravagant; that she had made one man
miserable, and would probably make another. She also abruptly withdrew,
giving manifest signs of one of the qualities ascribed to her.
An elderly matron then approached, holding forth one trembling, palsied
hand, with a small volume in the other. Avarabet hesitated for some
time; examined the edges as well as the surface of the nails; drew his
finger slowly over them, and then said,--"You have a susceptible heart;
you are in sorrow, but your affliction will soon have an end." It was
easy to see, in the look of the applicant, signs of pious resignation,
and a lively hope of another and a better state of existence.
I thought I perceived in the scene that was passing before us, an
exhibition that is not uncommon on our earth, of cunning knavery
imposing on ignorance and credulity; and I expressed my opinion to the
Brahmin; but he assured me that the class of persons in the moon, who
were resorted to on account of their supposed powers of divination, was
very different from the similar class in Asia or Europe, and that
oracular art was here regularly studied and professed as a branch of
philosophy. "You would be surprised," said he, "to find how successful
they have been in investing their craft with the forms and trappings of
science, the parade of classification, and the mystery imparted by
technical terms. By these means they have given plausibility enough to
their theories, to leave many a one in doubt, whether it is really a new
triumph of human discovery, or merely a later form of empiricism. Its
professors are commonly converts to their own theories, at least in a
great degree; for, strange as it may seem, there can mingle with the
disposition to deceive others, the power of deceiving one's self; and
while they exercise much acuteness and penetration in discovering, by
the air, look, dress, and manner of those who consult them, the leading
points in the history or character of persons of whom they have no
previous knowledge, they at the same time persuade themselves that they
see something indicative of their circumstances in their finger nails.
Such is the equivocal character of the greater part of their sect: but
there are some who are mere honest dupes to the pretensions of the
science; and others again, who have not one tittle of credulity to
extenuate their impudent pretensions.
"When I was here before, I remember a physician, who acquired great
celebrity by affecting to cure diseases by examining a lock of the
patient's hair; and, not content with merely pronouncing on the nature
of the disease, and suggesting the remedy, he would enter into an
elaborate, and often plausible course of reasoning, in defence of his
system. That system was briefly this: that the hair derived its length,
strength, hue, and other properties, from the brain; which opinion he
supported by a reference to acknowledged facts--as, that it changes its
hue with the difference of the mental character in the different stages
of life; that violent affections of the mind, such as grief or fear,
have been known to change it in a single night. Science on this, as on
other occasions, is merely augmenting and methodizing facts that the
mass of mankind had long observed--as, that red hair had always been
considered indicative of warm temperament; that affliction, and even
love, were believed to create baldness; and that in great terror, the
hair stands on end. The different ages too, are distinguished as much by
their hair as their complexion, their facial angle, or in any other way.
He was led to this theory first, by observing at school that a boy of a
stiff, bristly head of hair, was remarkably cruel. He professed to have
been able, from a long course of observation, to assign to every
different colour and variety of hair, its peculiar temperament and
character. One mental quality was indicated by its length, another by
its fineness, and others again as it chanced to be greasy, or lank, or
curled. He would also blow on it with a bellows, to see how the parts
arranged themselves: hold it near the fire, and watch the operation of
its crisping by the heat: and although he had often been mistaken in his
estimates of character, by the rules of his new science, he did not lose
the confidence of his disciples on that account--some of them refusing
to believe the truth, rather than to admit themselves mistaken; and
others insisting that, if his science was not infallible, it very rarely
It was now our turn to submit our hands to Avarabet for examination. He
discovered signs of the loftiest virtues and most heroic enterprise in
the Brahmin; and, near the bottom of one of his nails, a deep-rooted
sorrow, which would leave him only with his life. A transient shade of
gloom on the Brahmin's countenance was soon succeeded by a piercing,
inquisitive glance cast on the diviner. He saw the other's eyes directed
on the miniature which he always wore, and which discovered itself to
Avarabet as he stooped forward. A smile of contempt now took the place
of his first surprise, and he seemed in a state of abstraction, during
the continued rhapsodies of the oracle.
My hand was next examined; but little was said of me, except that I had
been a great traveller, and should be so again; that I should encounter
many dangers and difficulties; that I possessed more intelligence than
sensibility, and more prudence than generosity. Thus he discovered in me
great courage, enterprise, and constancy of purpose.
A hale, robust, well-set man, now bursting through the crowd, and
thrusting out his hand, abruptly asked the wise man to tell him, if he
could, in what part of the country he lived. Avarabet mentioned a
distant district on the coast of Morosofia.
"Good," said the other; "and what is my calling?"
After a slight pause, he replied, that he got his living on the water.
"Good again. Shall I ever be rich?"
"No, not very:--never."
"Better and better," rejoined the inquirer, at the same time giving vent
to a loud and hearty laugh. Surely, thought I, sailors are every where
the same sort of beings, rough and boisterous as the elements they
"And what is your opinion of me farther?"
"You are bold, frank, improvident, credulous and good-natured."
"Excellent, indeed! Now, what will you say, old sham wisdom, when I tell
you that I never made a voyage in my life; was never two days' journey
from this spot, and am seldom off my own dominion? That I own the forest
of Tongloo, where I sometimes hunt, from morning till night, and from
night till morning, twelve out of the thirteen days in the year? That my
wealth, which was considerable when I came to my estate, has, by my
habits of life, greatly increased, and that I am bent upon adding to it
yet more? I drink nothing but water; and have come here only to win a
wager, that you were not as knowing as you pretended to be, and that I
could impose on you. You thus have a specimen of my candour,
improvidence, and credulity." So saying, he leaped on his zebra, gave a
sort of huntsman's shout, and was off in a twinkling.
This adventure created great tumult in the crowd, a few enjoying the
jest, but the greater number manifesting ill-will and resentment towards
the sportsman. The Brahmin and I took advantage of the confusion, to
withdraw unnoticed by the bystanders. After remaining at our lodgings
long enough to take rest and refreshment, and to make minutes of what we
had seen, we proposed to spend the remainder of the night in the
country, the weather being more pleasant at this time in that climate,
than when the sun is above the horizon.
We accordingly set out when the earth was in her second quarter, and it
was about two of our days before sunrise. After walking about three
miles, the freshness of the morning air, the fragrance of the flowers,
and the music of innumerable birds, whose unceasing carols testified
their joy and delight at the approach of a more genial month, we came to
a large, well cultivated farm, in which a number of coarse looking men
were employed, with the aid of dogs, cross-bows, and other martial
weapons, in hunting down llamas, and a small kind of buffalo, which, in
one of our former walks, we had seen quietly feeding on a rich and
extensive pasture. We inquired of some stragglers from the throng, the
meaning of what we saw; but they were too much occupied with their sport
to afford us any satisfaction. We walked on, indulging our imaginations
in conjecture; but had not proceeded more than a quarter of a mile,
before we beheld a similar scene going on to our left, by the same
ill-looking crew. Our curiosity was now redoubled, and we resolved to
wait a while on the highway, for the chance of some passenger more at
leisure to answer our inquiries, and more courteously inclined than
these fierce marauders. We had not stopped many minutes, before a
well-dressed man, wearing the appearance of authority, having ridden up,
we asked him to explain the cause of their violent, and seemingly
lawless proceedings.
"You are strangers, I see, or you would have understood that I am
exercising my baronial privilege of doing myself justice. These cattle
belong to the owners of a neighbouring estate, by whom I and my tenants
have been injured and insulted; and, according to the usage in such
cases, I have given the signal to my people to lay hold on what they can
of his flocks and herds, and, to quicken their exertions, I give them
half of what they catch."
"And how does your neighbour bear this in the mean time?" said the
"Oh, for that matter," said the other, "he is not at all behindhand, and
I lose nearly as many cattle as I get. But it gives me much more
pleasure to kill one of his buffaloes or llamas, than it does pain me
when he kills one of mine. I consider how much it will vex him, and that
some of his vassals are thereby deprived of their sustenance. I have
upwards of thirty strong men employed in ranging this plain and wood,
and during the last year they took for me four hundred head."
"Indeed!--and how many did you lose in the same time?
"Not above three hundred and eighty."
"But very inferior?" said the Brahmin.
"Why, no," replied he: "as my pastures are richer and more luxuriant
than his, two of my cattle are worth perhaps three of his."
"Is this custom," asked the Brahmin, "an advantage or a tax on your
"A tax, indeed! Why it is worth from four to five hundred head a-year."
"And how much is it worth to your neighbour?"
"I presume nearly as much."
"Do your vassals get rich by the bounty you give them?"
"As to that matter, some who are lucky succeed very well, and the rest
make a living by it."
"And what do they give you for the privilege of hunting your neighbour's
"Nothing at all: I even lose my customary rent from those who engage in
"And it is the same case with your neighbour?"
"Certainly," said he.
"Then," said the Brahmin, "it seems to me, if you would agree to lay
aside this old custom, you would both be considerable gainers. I see you
look incredulous, but listen a moment. Each one would, in that case,
instead of having half his neighbour's cattle, have all his own; and,
being kept in their native pastures, they would be less likely to stray
away, and you could therefore slay and eat as you wanted them; whereas,
in your hunting matches many more are either killed or maimed than are
wanted for present use, and they are consequently consumed in waste. You
would, moreover, be a gainer by the amount of the labour of these thirty
boors, whom you keep in this employment, and who very probably acquire
habits of ferocity, licentiousness, and waste, which are not very
favourable to their obedience or fidelity."
The proprietor, having pondered a while upon my friend's remarks, in a
tone of exultation said,--"Do you think, then, I could ever prevail on
my people to forbear, when they saw a likely flock, from laying violent
hands on it; or could I resist so favourable an opportunity of revenge?
Nay, more; if we were then tamely to tie up our hands, do you think that
Bulderent and his men would consent to do the same? No, no, old man," he
continued, with great self-complacency, "your arguments appear plausible
at first, but when closely considered, they will not stand the lest of
experience. They are the fancies of a stranger--of one who knows more of
theory than practice. Had you lived longer among us, you would have
known that your ingenious project could never be carried into execution.
If I observed it, Bulderent would not; and if he observed it, I verily
believe I could not--and thus, you see, the thing is altogether
impracticable." As one soon tires of preaching to the winds, the Brahmin
contented himself with asking his new acquaintance to think more on the
subject at his leisure; and we proceeded on our walk.
_The travellers visit a gentleman farmer, who is a great projector: his
breed of cattle: his apparatus for cooking: he is taken
dangerously ill._
After we had gone about half a mile farther, our attention was arrested
by a gate of very singular character. It was extremely ingenious in its
structure, and, among other peculiarities, it had three or four latches,
for children, for grown persons, for those who were tall and those who
were short, and for the right hand as well as the left. In the act of
opening, it was made to crush certain berries, and the oil they yielded,
was carried by a small duct to the hinge, which was thus made to turn
easily, and was prevented from creaking. While we were admiring its
mechanism, an elderly man, rather plainly dressed, on a zebra in low
condition, rode up, and showed that he was the owner of the mansion to
which the gate belonged, and that he was not displeased with the
curiosity we manifested. We found him both intelligent and obliging. He
informed us that he was an experimental farmer; and when he learnt that
we were strangers, and anxious to inform ourselves of the state of
agriculture in the country, he very civilly invited us to take our next
meal with him. Our walk having now made us hungry and fatigued, we
gladly accepted of his hospitality; whereupon he alighted, and walked
with us to his lodgings.
He was very communicative of his modes of cultivation and management,
but chiefly prided himself on his success in improving the size of his
cattle. He informed us that he had devoted sixteen years of his life to
this object, and had then in his farm-yard a buffalo nearly as heavy as
three of the ordinary size. His practice was to kill all the young
animals which were not uncommonly large and thrifty; to cram those he
kept, with as much food as they would eat, and to tempt their appetites
by the variety of their nourishment, as well as of the modes of
preparing it.
"All this," said he, "costs a great deal, it is true; but I am paid for
it by the additional price." I was struck with this notable triumph of
industry and skill in the goodly art of husbandry--that art which I
venerate above every other; and I was all anxiety to receive from him
some instructions which I might, in case I should have the good fortune
to get safely back, communicate to my friends on Long-Island, who had
never been able even to double the common size, and who boasted greatly
of that: but a hesitating look, and a few inquiries on the part of my
sly friend, checked my enthusiasm.
"Have you always," he asked, "had the same number of acres in grain and
grass under your new and old system?"
"Pretty nearly," says the other. "My new breed, however, though fewer,
consume more than their predecessors."
"How many head did you formerly sell in a year?"
"About thirty."
"How many do you now sell?"
"Though for some years I have not sold more than nine or ten, I expect
to exceed that number in another year."
"Which you expect will yield you more than the thirty did formerly?"
"Certainly; because such meat as mine commands an extraordinary price."
"So long," replied the Brahmin, "as this is novelty, you may receive a
part of the price which men are ever ready to pay for it; but as soon as
others profit by your example, your meat falls to the ordinary rate, and
then, if I understand you aright, as you will have somewhat less in
quantity than you formerly had, your gross receipts will be less, to say
nothing of your additional labour and expense."
"But who has the skill," quickly rejoined the other, "of which I can
boast? and who would take the same trouble, although they had
"But stop here a moment," said our host, "till I go to see how my last
improved oil-cake is relished by my cattle."
The Brahmin then turning to me, said,--"This gentleman may, indeed,
improve his fortune by the business of a grazier; but the same pains and
unremitting attention would always be sure of a liberal reward, though
the system on which they were exerted was not among the best. Nothing,
my dear Atterley, is more true than the saying of your wise book--_that
all flesh is grass;_ and it always takes the same quantity of one to
make a given quantity of the other, whether that given quantity may be
in the form of a single individual, or two or three. But in the former
case, great labour is required to force nature beyond her ordinary
limits, and the same labour must be unceasingly kept up, or she will
certainly relapse to her original dimensions. This system may do, as our
host here tells us it actually does, for the moon, but it is not suited
to our earth. If, however, you are ambitious of a name among the
speculative men of your country, this little stone," added he, stooping,
and picking up a small stone from the ground, "will answer your purpose
quite as well as any improvement in husbandry. It is precisely of the
same species as those which we threw over in our aerial voyages, and
which, though correctly called moon-stones by the vulgar, (who are
oftener right than the learned suppose,) some of the western
philosophers declared to have been gravitated in the atmosphere."
"And is this really the origin," said I, "of that strange phenomenon,
which has furnished so much matter of speculation to the sages both of
Europe and America?"
"Nothing is more true," replied he. "These stones are common to the
earth and to the moon; and some of those which have been so carefully
analyzed by your most celebrated chemists, and pronounced different from
any known mineral production of the earth, were small fragments of a
very common rock in the mountains of Burma. In our first voyages we had
taken some of them with us as ballast; and those which we first threw
over, we afterwards learnt from the public journals, fell in France,
some of the others fell in India, but the greater number in the ocean.
Those which have fallen at other times, have been real fossils of the
moon, and either such stones as this I hold in my hand, or such metallic
substances as are repelled from that body, and attracted towards the
earth; and it is the force with which they strike the earth, which first
suggested the idea of a thunder-bolt.
"Our party were greatly amused at the disputations of a learned society
in Europe, in which they undertook to give a mathematical demonstration
that they could not be thrown from a volcano of the earth, nor from the
moon, but were suddenly formed in the atmosphere. I should as soon
believe that a loaf of bread could be made and baked in the atmosphere."
Finding that our landlord prided himself on his interior management, as
well as on that without doors, we expressed a wish to see some of his
household improvements. He readily consented, and conducted us at once
into his kitchen, and showed us inventions and contrivances out of
number, for saving fuel, and meat, and labour; in short, for saving
every thing but money. The large room into which he carried us, appeared
as a vast laboratory, from the infinite variety of pots, pans, skillets,
knives, forks, ladles, mortars, sieves, funnels, and other utensils of
metal, glass, pottery, and wood. The steam which he used for cooking,
was carried along a pipe under a succession of kettles and boilers,
descending in regular gradation, by which a great saving of fuel was
effected; and, to perfect this part of the apparatus, the pipe could be
removed, to give place to one of the size suited to the occasion.
His seven-guest pipe was now in use. The wood, which was all cut to the
same length, and channelled out to admit the free passage of the air,
was then duly placed in the stove, and set on fire; but the heat not
passing very readily through all the sinuosities of the pipe, he ordered
his head cook to screw on his exhauster. The man, in less than ten
minutes, unscrewed a plate at the farther end, and fixed on an air-pump,
made for the purpose, on which the door of the stove suddenly slammed
to. Our host saw the accident, and hurrying to open the stove, fell over
a heap of channelled logs, and cut a gash in his forehead. The cook ran
to help him up; and after he was on his legs, and his forehead wiped,
the stove was opened, when the fire, which had been deprived of its
aliment, was entirely extinguished. I thought he was hardly sorry for
the accident, as it afforded him an occasion of showing how ingeniously
he kindled a fire. He had an electric machine brought to him, by means
of which he set fire to a few grains of gunpowder; this lighted some
tinder, which again ignited spirits, whose blaze reached the lower
extremity of his lamp. Taking the precaution of keeping the stove open
this time, the air was again exhausted at the farther end of the pipe,
and in a little time the flame was seen to ascend even to the air-pump,
and to scorch the parts made of wood; whereupon I saw a glow of triumph
on his face, which amply compensated him for his wound and vexation.
There was a grand machine for roasting, that carried the fire round the
meat, the juices of which, he said, by a rotary motion, would be thrown
to the surface, and either evaporate or be deteriorated. Here was also
his digestor, for making soup of rams' horns, which he assured me
contained a good deal of nourishment, and the only difficulty was in
extracting it. He next showed us his smoke-retractor, which received the
smoke near the top of the chimney, and brought it down to be burnt over
again, by which he computed that he saved five cords and a half of wood
in a year. The fire which dressed his victuals, pumped up, by means of a
steam engine, water for the kitchen turned one or more spits, as well as
two or three mills for grinding pepper, salt, &c.; and then, by a
spindle through the wall, worked a churn in the dairy, and cleaned the
knives: the forks, indeed, were still cleaned by hand; but he said he
did not despair of effecting this operation in time, by machinery. I
mentioned to him our contrivance of silver forks, to lessen this labour;
but he coldly remarked, that he imagined science was in its infancy
He informed us that he had been ten years in completing this ingenious
machine; and certainly, when it was in full operation, I never saw
exultation and delight so strongly depicted in any human face. The
various sounds and sights, that met the ear and eye, in rapid
succession, still farther worked on his feelings, and heightened his
raptures. There was such a simmering, and hissing, and bubbling of
boiled, and broiled, and fried--such a whirling, and jerking, and
creaking of wheels, and cranks, and pistons--such clouds of steam, and
vapours, and even smoke, notwithstanding all of the latter that was
burnt,--that I almost thought myself in some great manufactory.
After having suffered as much as we could well bear, from the heat and
confined air of this laboratory of eatables, and passed the proper
number of compliments on the skill and ingenuity they displayed, we
ascended to his hall, to partake of that feast, to prepare which we had
seen all the elements and the mechanical powers called into action.
There were a few of his city acquaintances present, besides ourselves:
but whether it was owing to the effect of the steam from the dishes on
our stomachs, or that this scientific cookery was not suited to our
unpractised palates, I know not, but we all made an indifferent repast,
except our host, who tasted every dish, and seemed to relish them all.
After sitting some time at table, conversing on the progress of science,
its splendid achievements, and the pleasing prospects which it yet dimly
showed in the future, our hospitable entertainer, perceiving we were
fatigued with the labours of the day, invited us to take our next
_lallaneae_, or sleep, with him, for which hospitality we felt very
grateful. We were then shown to a room, in which there were marks of the
same fertile invention, in saving labour and promoting convenience; but
we were too sleepy to take much notice of them. Our beds were filled
with air, which is quite as good as feathers, except that when the
leather covering gets a hole in it, from ripping, or other accidents, it
loses its elasticity with its air--an accident which happened to me this
very night; for a mouse having gnawed the leather where the housemaid's
greasy fingers had left a mark, I sunk gently down, not to soft repose,
but on the hard planks, where I uncomfortably lay until the bell warned
us to rise for breakfast.
As soon as I was dressed, I walked out into a large garden, and, as the
sun was not yet so high as to make it sultry, was enjoying the balmy
sweetness of the air, and the flowering shrubs, which in beauty and
fragrance almost exceeded those of India, when I saw a servant run by
the garden wall, enter the stable, and bring out a zebra. On inquiring
the cause, I was made to understand that our noble host was taken
suddenly ill. I immediately returned to the house, and found the
domestics running to and fro, and manifesting the greatest anxiety, as
well as hurry, in their looks. I went into the Brahmin's room, and found
him dressed. He went out, and after some time, informed me that our kind
host had a violent _cholera morbus_, in consequence of the various kinds
of food with which he had overloaded his stomach at dinner; that he
considered himself near his last end, and was endeavouring to arrange
his affairs for the event.
I could not help meditating on the melancholy uncertainty of human life,
when I contrasted the comforts, the pleasures, the pride of conscious
usefulness and genius felt by this gentleman a short time since, with
the agony which that trying and bitter hour brings to the stoutest and
most callous heart--when it must quit this state of being for another,
of which it knows so little, and over which fear and doubt throw a gloom
that hope cannot entirely dispel.
_Lunarian physicians: their consultation--While they dispute the patient
recovers--The travellers visit the celebrated teacher Lozzi Pozzi._
While I indulged in these sad meditations, and felt for my host while I
felt no less for myself, I saw the physician approach who had been sent
for. He was a tall, thin man, with a quick step, a lively, piercing eye,
a sallow complexion, and very courteous manners, and always willing to
display the ready flow of words for which he was remarkable. I felt
great curiosity to witness the skill of this Lunar Aesculapius, and he
was evidently pleased with the interest I manifested. It turned out that
he was well acquainted with the Brahmin; and learning from the latter my
wish, he conducted me into the room of our sick host. We found him lying
on a straw bed, and strangely altered within a few hours. The physician,
after feeling his pulse, (which, as every country has its peculiar
customs, is done here about the temples and neck, instead of the
wrist)--after examining his tongue, his teeth, his water, and feces,
proposed bleeding. We all walked to the door, and ventured to oppose the
doctor's prescription, suggesting that the copious evacuations he had
already experienced, might make bleeding useless, if not dangerous.
"How little like a man of sense you speak," said the other; "how readily
you have chimed in with the prejudices of the vulgar! I should have
expected better things from you: but the sway of empiricism is destined
yet to have a long struggle before it receives its final overthrow. I
have attacked it with success in many quarters; but when it has been
prostrated in one place, it soon rises up in another. Have you, my good
friend, seen my last essay on morbid action?"
The Brahmin replied, that he had not yet had an opportunity of meeting
"I am sorry you have not," said the other. "I have there completely
demonstrated that disease is an unit, and that it is the extreme of
folly to divide diseases into classes, which tend but to produce
confusion of ideas, and an unscientific practice. Sir," continued he, in
a more animated tone, "there is a beautiful simplicity in this theory,
which gives us assurance of its conformity to nature and truth. It needs
but to be seen to be understood--but to be understood, to be approved,
and carried into successful operation."
The Brahmin asked him if this unit did not present different symptoms on
different occasions.
"Certainly," he replied: "from too much or too little action, in this
set of vessels or that, it is differently modified, and must be treated
accordingly."
"This unit, then," said my friend, "assumes different forms, and
requires various remedies? Is there not, then, a convenience in
separating these modifications (or _forms_, if you prefer it) from one
another, by different names?"
"Stop, my friend; you do not apprehend the matter. I will explain." At
this moment two other gentlemen, of a grave aspect and demeanour,
entered the room. They also were physicians of great reputation in the
city. They appeared to be formal and reserved towards one another, but
they each manifested still more shyness and coldness towards the learned
Shuro. They entered the sick chamber, and having informed themselves of
the state of the patient, all three withdrew to a consultation.
They had not been long together, before their voices grew, from a
whisper, so loud, that we could distinctly hear all they said. "Sir,"
says Dr. Shakrack, "the patient is in a state of direct debility: we
must stimulate, if we would restore a healthy action. Pour in the
_stimulantia_ and _irritentia_, and my life for it, the patient
"Will you listen to me for one moment?" says Dr. Dridrano, the youngest
of the three gentlemen. "It may be presumption for one of my humble
pretensions to set myself in opposition to persons of your age,
experience, and celebrity; but I am bound, by the sacred duties of the
high functions I have undertaken to perform, to use my poor abilities in
such a way as I can, to advance the noble science of medicine, and, in
so doing, to give strength to the weak, courage to the disheartened, and
comfort to the afflicted. Gentlemen, I say, I hope if my simple views
should be found widely different from yours, you will not impute it to a
presumption which is as foreign to my nature as it would be unsuited to
your merits. I consider the human body a mere machine, whose parts are
complicated, whose functions are various, and whose operations are
liable to be impeded and frustrated by a variety of obstacles. There is,
you know, one set of tubes, or vessels, for the blood; another for the
lymph; another for the sweat; and so on. Now, although each of these
fluids has its several channels, yet, if by any accident any one of them
is obstructed, and there is so great an accumulation of the obstructed
fluid that it cannot find vent by its natural channel, or duct, then you
must carry off the redundancy by some other; for you well know, that
that which can be carried off by one, can be carried off by all.
Gentlemen, I beg you not to turn away; hear me for a moment. Then, if
the current of the blood be obstructed, I make large draughts of urine,
or sweat or saliva, or of the liquor amnii; and I find it matters little
which of these evacuants I resort to. This system, to which, with
deference to your longer experience, I have had the honour of giving
some celebrity in Morosofia, explains how it is that such various
remedies for the same disease have been in vogue at different times.
They have all had in town able advocates. I could adduce undeniable
testimonials of their efficacy, because, in fact, they are all
efficacious; and it seems to me a mere matter of earthshine, whether we
resort to one or the other mode of restoring the equilibrium of the
human machine; all that we have to do, being to know when and to what
extent it is proper to use either. Determine, then, gentlemen,--you, for
whose maturer judgment and years I feel profound respect,--whether we
shall blister, or sweat, or bleed, or salivate."
Dr. Shuro, who had manifested his impatience at this long harangue, by
frequent interruptions, and which Dridrano's show of deference could
scarcely keep down, hastily replied: "You have manifestly taken the hint
of your theory from me; and because I have advanced the doctrine that
disease is an unit, you come forward now, and insist that remedy is an
"You do me great honour, learned sir," said Dridrano. "Surely it would
be very unbecoming, in one of my age and standing, to set up a theory in
opposition to yours, but it would be yet more discreditable to be a
plagiarist; and, with all due respect for your superior wisdom, it does
seem to my feeble intellect, that no two theories can be more different.
You use several remedies for one disease: I admit several diseases, and
use one remedy."
"And does not darkness remind us of light," replied Shuro, "by the
contrast? heat of cold--north of south?"
"Gentlemen," then said Shakrack, who had been walking to and fro, during
the preceding controversy, "as you seem to agree so ill with each other,
I trust you will unite in adopting my course. Let us begin with this
cordial; we will then vary the stimulus, if necessary, by means of the
elixir, and you will see the salutary effects immediately. A loss of
blood would still farther increase the debility of the patient; and I
appeal to your candour, Dr. Shuro, whether you ever practised
venesection in such a case?"
"In such a case? ay, in what _you_ would call much worse. I was not long
since called in to a man in a dropsy. I opened a vein. He seemed from
that moment to feel relief; and he so far recovered, that after a short
time I bled him again. I returned the next day, and had I arrived half
an hour sooner, I should have bled him a third time, and in all human
probability have saved his life."
"If you had stimulated him, you might have had an opportunity of making
your favourite experiment a little oftener," said Shakrack.
"You are facetious, sir; I imagine you have been using your own panacea
somewhat too freely to-day."
"Not so," said his opponent, angrily; "but if you are not more guarded
in your expressions, I shall make use of yours, in a way you
won't like."
Upon which they proceeded to blows, Dridrano all the while bellowing, "I
beg, my worthy seniors, for the honour of science, that you
will forbear!"
The noise of the dispute had waked the patient, who, learning the cause
of the disturbance, calmly begged they would give themselves no concern
about him, but let him die in peace. The domestics, who had been for
some time listening to the dispute, on hearing the scuffle, ran in and
parted the angry combatants, who, like an abscess just lanced, were
giving vent to all the malignant humours that had been so long silently
In the mean while, the smooth and considerate Dr. Dridrano stept into
the sick room, with the view of offering an apology for the unmannerly
conduct of his brethren, and of tendering his single services, as the
other sages of the healing art could not agree in the course to be
pursued; when he found that the patient, profiting by the simple
remedies of the Brahmin, and an hour's rest, had been so much refreshed,
that he considered himself out of danger, and that he had no need of
medical assistance; or, at any rate, he was unwilling to follow the
prescriptions of one physician, which another, if not two others,
unhesitatingly condemned. Each one then received his fee, and hurried
home, to publish his own statement of the case in a pamphlet.
The Brahmin, who had never left the sick man's couch during his sleep,
now that he was out of danger, was greatly diverted at the dispute. But
he good-naturedly added, that, notwithstanding the ridiculous figure
they had that day made, they were all men of genius and ability, but had
done their parts injustice by their vanity, and the ambition of
originating a new theory. "With all the extravagance," said he, "to
which they push their several systems, they are not unsuccessful in
practice, for habitual caution, and an instinctive regard for human
life, which they never can extinguish, checks them in carrying their
hypotheses into execution: and if I might venture to give an opinion on
a subject of which I know so little, and there is so much to be known, I
would say, that the most common error of theorists is to consider man as
a machine, rather than an animal, and subject to one set of the laws of
matter, rather than as subject to them all.
"Thus," he continued, "we have been regarded by one class of theorists
as an hydraulic engine, composed of various tubes fitted with their
several fluids, the laws and functions of which have been deduced from
calculations of velocities, altitudes, diameters, friction, &c. Another
class considered man as a mere chemical engine, and his stomach as an
alembic. The doctrine of affinities, attractions, and repulsions, now
had full play. Then came the notion of sympathies and antipathies, by
which name unknown and unknowable causes were sought to be explained,
and ignorance was cunningly veiled in mystery. But the science will
never be in the right tract of improvement, until we consider,
conjointly, the mechanical operations of the fluids, the chemical agency
of the substances taken into the stomach, and the animal functions of
digestion, secretion, and absorption, as evinced by actual observation."
I told him that I believed that was now the course which was actually
pursued in the best medical schools, both of Europe and America.
Our worthy host, though very feeble, had so far recovered as to dress
himself, and receive the congratulations of his household, who had all
manifested a concern for his situation, that was at once creditable to
him and themselves. Expressing our gratitude for his kind attentions,
and promising to renew our visit if we could, we bade him adieu.
We took a different road home from the way we had come, and had not
walked far, before we met a number of small boys, each having a bag on
his back, as large as he could stagger under. Surprised at seeing
children of their tender years, thus prematurely put to severe labour, I
was about to rail at the absurd custom of this strange country, when my
friend checked me for my hasty judgment, and told me that these boys
were on their way to school, after their usual monthly holiday. We
attended them to their schoolhouse, which stood in sight, on the side of
a steep chalky hill. The Brahmin told me that the teacher's name was
Lozzi Pozzi, and that he had acquired great celebrity by his system of
instruction. When the boys opened their bags, I found that instead of
books and provisions, as I had expected, they were filled with sticks,
which they told us constituted the arithmetical lessons they were
required to practise at home. These sticks were of different lengths and
dimensions, according to the number marked on them; so that by looking
at the inscription, you could tell the size, or by seeing or feeling the
size, you could tell the number.
The master now made his appearance, and learning our errand, was very
communicative. He descanted on the advantages of this manual, and ocular
mode of teaching the science of numbers, and gave us practical
illustrations of its efficacy, by examining his pupils in our presence.
He told the first boy he called up, and who did not seem to be more than
seven or eight years of age, to add 5, 3, and 7 together, and tell him
the result. The little fellow set about hunting, with great alacrity,
over his bag, until he found a piece divided like three fingers, then a
piece with five divisions, and lastly, one with seven, and putting them
side by side, he found the piece of a correspondent length, and thus, in
less than eight minutes and a half, answered, "fifteen." The ingenious
master then exercised another boy in subtraction, and a third in
multiplication: but the latter was thrown into great confusion, for one
of the pieces having lost a division, it led him to a wrong result.
The teacher informed us that he taught geometry in the same way, and had
even extended it to grammar, logic, rhetoric, and the art of
composition. The rules of syntax were discovered by pieces of wood,
interlocking with each other in squares, dovetails, &c., after the
manner of geographical cards; and as they chanced to fit together, so
was the concordance between the several parts of speech ascertained. The
machine for composition occupied a large space; different sets of
synonymes were arranged in compartments of various sizes. When the
subject was familiar, a short piece was used; when it was stately or
heroic, then the longest slips that could be found were resorted to.
Those that were rounded at the ends were mellifluous; the jagged ones
were harsh; the thick pieces expressed force and vigour. Where the
curves corresponded at one end, they served for alliteration; and when
at the other, they answered for rhyme. By way of proving its progress,
he showed us a composition by a man who was deaf and dumb, in praise of
Morosofia, who, merely by the use of his eyes and hands, had made an
ingenious and high-sounding piece of eloquence, though I confess that
the sense was somewhat obscure. We went away filled with admiration for
the great Lozzi Pozzi's inventions.
Having understood that there was an academy in the neighbourhood, in
which youths of maturer years were instructed in the fine arts, we were
induced to visit it; but there being a vacation at that time, we could
see neither the professors nor students, and consequently could gain
little information of the course of discipline and instruction pursued
there. We were, however, conducted to a small _menagerie_ attached to
the institution, by its keeper, where the habits and accomplishments of
the animals bore strong testimony in favour of the diligence and skill
of their teachers.
We there saw two game-cocks, which, so far from fighting, (though they
had been selected from the most approved breed,) billed and cooed like
turtle-doves. There was a large zebra, apparently ill-tempered, which
showed his anger by running at and butting every animal that came in his
way. Two half-grown llamas, which are naturally as quiet and timid as
sheep, bit each other very furiously, until they foamed at the mouth.
And, lastly, a large mastiff made his appearance, walking in a slow,
measured gait, with a sleek tortoise-shell cat on his back; and she, in
turn, was surmounted by a mouse, which formed the apex of this
singular pyramid.
The keeper, remarking our unaffected surprise at the exhibition, asked
us if we could now doubt the unlimited force of education, after such a
display of the triumph of art over nature. While he was speaking, the
mastiff, being jostled by the two llamas still awkwardly worrying each
other, turned round so suddenly, that the mouse was dislodged from his
lofty position, and thrown to the ground; on seeing which, the cat
immediately sprang upon it, with a loud purring noise, which being heard
by the dog, he, with a fierce growl, suddenly seized the cat. The
llamas, alarmed at this terrific sound, instinctively ran off, and
having, in their flight, approached the heels of the zebra, he gave a
kick, which killed one of them on the spot.
The keeper, who was deeply mortified at seeing the fabric he had raised
with such indefatigable labour, overturned in a moment, protested that
nothing of the sort had ever happened before. To which we replied, by
way of consolation, that perhaps the same thing might never happen
again; and that, while his art had achieved a conquest over nature, this
was only a slight rebellion of nature against art. We then thanked him
for his politeness, and took our leave.
CHAPTER XII.
_Election of the Numnoonce, or town-constable--Violence
of parties--Singular institution of the Syringe Boys--The
prize-fighters--Domestic manufactures._
When we got back to the city, we found an unusual stir and bustle among
the citizens, and on inquiring the cause, we understood they were about
to elect the town-constable. After taking some refreshment at our
lodgings, where we were very kindly received, we again went out, and
were hurried along with the crowd, to a large building near the centre
of the city. The multitude were shouting and hallooing with great
vehemence. The Brahmin remarking an elderly man, who seemed very quiet
in the midst of all this ferment, he thought him a proper person to
address for information.
"I suppose," says he, "from the violence of these partisans, they are on
different sides in religion or politics?"
"Not at all," said the other; "those differences are forgotten at the
present, and the ground of the dispute is, that one of the candidates is
tall, and the other is short--one has a large foretop, and the other is
bald. Oh, I forgot; one has been a schoolmaster, and the other
Curiosity now prompted me to enter into the thickest of the throng; and
I had never seen such fury in the maddest contests between old George
Clinton and Mr. Jay, or De Witt Clinton and Governor Tompkins, in my
native State. They each reproached their adversaries in the coarsest
language, and attributed to them the vilest principles and motives. Our
guide farther told us that the same persons, with two others, had been
candidates last year, when the schoolmaster prevailed; and, as the
supporters of the other two unsuccessful candidates had to choose now
between the remaining two, each party was perpetually reproaching the
other with inconsistency. A dialogue between two individuals of opposite
sides, which we happened to hear, will serve as a specimen of the rest.
"Are you not a pretty fellow to vote for Bald-head, whom you have so
often called rogue and blockhead?"
"It becomes you to talk of consistency, indeed! Pray, sir, how does it
happen that you are now against him, when you were so lately sworn
friends, and used to eat out of the same dish?"
"Yes; but I was the butcher's friend too. I never abused him. You'll
never catch me supporting a man I have once abused."
"But I catch you abusing the man you once supported, which is rather
worse. The difference between us is this:--you professed to be friendly
to both; I professed to be hostile to both: you stuck to one of your
friends, and cast the other off; and I acted the same towards my
enemies." A crowd then rushed by, crying "Huzza for the Butcher's
knives! Damn pen and ink--damn the books, and all that read in them!
Butchers' knives and beef for ever!"
We asked our guide what these men were to gain by the issue of the
"Nineteenths of them nothing. But a few hope to be made deputies, if
their candidates succeed, and they therefore egg on the rest."
We drew near to the scaffold where the candidates stood, and our ears
were deafened with the mingled shouts and exclamations of praise and
reproach. "You cheated the corporation!" says one. "You killed two black
sheep!" says another. "You can't read a warrant!" "You let Dondon cheat
you!" "You tried to cheat Nincan!" "You want to build a watch-house!"
"You have an old ewe at home now, that you did not come honestly by!"
"You denied your own hand!"--with other ribaldry still more gross and
indecent. But the most singular part of the scene was a number of little
boys, dressed in black and white, who all wore badges of the parties to
which they belonged, and were provided with a syringe, and two canteens,
one filled with rose-water, and the other with a black liquid, of a very
offensive smell, the first of which they squirted at their favourite
candidates and voters, and the last on those of the opposite party. They
were drawn up in a line, and seemed to be under regular discipline; for,
whenever the captain of the band gave the word, "Vilti Mindoc!" they
discharged the dirty liquid from their syringes; and when he said "Vilti
Goulgoul!" they filled the air with perfume, that was so overpowering as
sometimes to produce sickness. The little fellows would, between whiles,
as if to keep their hands in, use the black squirts against one another;
but they often gave them a dash of the rose-water at the same time.
I wondered to see men submit to such indignity; but was told that the
custom had the sanction of time; that these boys were brought up in the
church, and were regularly trained to this business. "Besides," added my
informer, "the custom is not without its use; for it points out the
candidates at once to a stranger, and especially him who is successful,
those being always the most blackened who are the most popular." But it
was amusing to see the ludicrous figure that the candidates and some of
the voters made. If you came near them on one side, they were like roses
dripping with the morning dew; but on the other, they were as black as
chimney sweeps, and more offensive than street scavengers. As these
Syringe Boys, or Goulmins, are thus protected by custom, the persons
assailed affected to despise them; but I could ever and anon see some of
the most active partisans clapping them on the back, and saying, "Well
done, my little fellows! give it to them again! You shall have a
ginger-cake--and you shall have a new cap," &c. Surely, thought I, our
custom of praising and abusing our public men in the newspapers, is far
more rational than this. After the novelty of the scene was over, I
became wearied and disgusted with their coarseness, violence, and want
of decency, and we left them without waiting to see the result of
the contest.
In returning to our lodgings, the Brahmin took me along a quarter of the
town in which I had never before been. In a little while we came to a
lofty building, before the gate of which a great crowd were assembled.
"This," said my companion, "is one of the courts of justice." Anxious to
see their modes of proceeding in court, I pushed through the crowd,
followed by the Brahmin, and on entering the building, found myself in a
spacious amphitheatre, in the middle of which I beheld, with surprise,
several men engaged, hand to hand, in single combat. On asking an
explanation of my friend, he informed me that these contests were
favourite modes of settling private disputes in Morosofia: that the
prize-fighters I saw, hired themselves to any one who conceived himself
injured in person, character, or property. "It seems a strange mode of
settling legal disputes," I remarked, "which determines a question in
favour of a party, according to the strength and wind of his champion."
"Nor is that all," said the Brahmin, "as the judges assign the victory
according to certain rules and precedents, the reasons of which are
known only to themselves, if known at all, and which are often
sufficiently whimsical--as sometimes a small scratch in the head avails
more than a disabling blow in the body. The blows too, must be given in
the right time, as well as in the right place, or they pass for nothing.
In short, of all those spectators who are present to witness the powers
and address of the prize-fighters, not one in a hundred can tell who has
gained the victory, until the judges have proclaimed it."
"I presume," said I, "that the champions who thus expose their persons
and lives in the cause of another, are Glonglims?"
"There," said he, "you are altogether mistaken. In the first place, the
prize-fighters seldom sustain serious injury. Their weapons do not
endanger life; and as each one knows that his adversary is merely
following his vocation, they often fight without animosity. After the
contest is over, you may commonly see the combatants walking and talking
very sociably together: but as this circumstance makes them a little
suspected by the public, they affect the greater rage when in conflict,
and occasionally quarrel and fight in downright earnest. No," he
continued, "I am told it is a very rare thing to see one of these
prize-fighters who is a Glonglim; but most of their employers belong to
this unhappy race."
On looking more attentively, I perceived many of these beings among the
spectators, showing, by their gestures, the greatest anxiety for the
issue of the contest. They each carried a scrip, or bag, the contents of
which they ever and anon gave to their respective champions, whose wind,
it is remarked, is very apt to fail, unless thus assisted.
Having learnt some farther particulars respecting this singular mode of
litigation, which would be uninteresting to the general reader, I took
my leave, not without secretly congratulating myself on the more
rational modes in which justice is administered on earth.
When we had nearly reached our lodgings, we heard a violent altercation
in the house, and on entering, we found our landlord and his wife
engaged in a dispute respecting their domestic economy, and they both
made earnest appeals to my companion for the correctness of their
respective opinions. The old man was in favour of their children making
their own shoes and clothes; and his wife insisted that it would be
better for them to stick to their garden and dairy, with the proceeds of
which they could purchase what they wanted. She asserted that they could
readily sell all the fruits and vegetables they could raise; and that
whilst they would acquire greater skill by an undivided attention to one
thing, they who followed the business of tailors, shoemakers, and
seamstresses, would, in like manner, become more skilful in their
employments, and consequently be able to work at a cheaper rate. She
farther added, that spinning and sewing were unhealthy occupations; they
would give the girls the habit of stooping, which would spoil their
shapes; and that their thoughts would be more likely to be running on
idle and dangerous fancies, when sitting at their needles, than when
engaged in more active occupations.
This dame was a very fluent, ready-witted woman, and she spoke with the
confidence that consciousness of the powers of disputation commonly
inspires. She went on enlarging on the mischiefs of the practice she
condemned, and, by insensible gradations, so magnified them, that at
last she clearly made out that there was no surer way of rendering their
daughters sickly, deformed, vicious, and unchaste, than to set them
about making their own clothes.
After she had ceased, (which she did under a persuasion that she had
anticipated and refuted every argument that could be urged in opposition
to her doctrine,) the husband, with an emotion of anger that he could
not conceal, began to defend his opinion. He said, as to the greater
economy of his plan, there could be no doubt; for although they might,
at particular times, make more by gardening than they could save by
spinning or sewing, yet there were other times when they could not till
the ground, and when, of course, if they did not sew or spin, they would
be idle; but if they did work, the proceeds would be clear gain. He said
he did not wish his daughters to be constantly employed in making
clothes, nor was it necessary that they should be. A variety of other
occupations, equally indispensable, claimed their attention, and would
leave but a comparatively small portion of time for needlework: that in
thus providing themselves with employment at home, they at least saved
the time of going backwards and forwards, and were spared some trips to
market, for the sale of vegetables to pay, as would then be necessary,
for the work done by others. Besides, the tailor who was most convenient
to them, and who, it was admitted, was a very good one, was insolent and
capricious; would sometimes extort extravagant prices, or turn them into
ridicule; and occasionally went so far as to set his water-dogs upon
them, of which he kept a great number. He declared, that for his part he
would incur a little more expense, rather than he would be so imposed
upon, and subjected to so much indignity and vexation.
He denied that sewing would affect his daughters' health, unless,
perhaps, they followed it exclusively as an occupation; but, as they
would have it in their power to consult their inclinations and
convenience in this matter, they might take it up when the occasion
required, and lay it down whenever they found it irksome or fatiguing:
that as they themselves were inclined to follow this course, it was a
plain proof that the occupation was not unhealthy. He maintained that
they would stoop just as much in gardening, and washing and nursing
their children, as in sewing; and that we were not such frail or
unpliant machines as to be seriously injured, unless we persisted in one
set of straight, formal notions, but that we were adapted to variety,
and were benefited by it. That as to the practice being favourable to
wantonness and vice, while he admitted that idleness was productive of
these effects, he could not see how one occupation encouraged them more
than another. That the tailor, for example, whom he had been speaking
of, though purse-proud, overbearing, and rapacious, was not more immoral
or depraved than his neighbours, and had probably less of the libertine
than most of them. He admitted that evil thoughts would enter the mind
in any situation, and could not reasonably be expected to be kept out of
his daughters' heads (being, as he said, but women): yet he conceived
such a result as far less probable, if they were suffered to ramble
about in the streets, and to chaffer with their customers, than if they
were kept to sedate and diligent employment at home.
Having, with great warmth and earnestness, used these arguments, he
concluded, by plainly hinting to his wife that she had always been the
apologist of the tailor, in all their disputes; and that she could not
be so obstinately blind to the irrefragable reasoning he had urged, if
she were not influenced by her old hankering after this fellow, and did
not consult his interests in preference to those of her own family. Upon
this remark the old woman took fire, and, in spite of our presence, they
both had recourse to direct and the coarsest abuse.
The Brahmin did not, as I expected, join me in laughing at the scene we
had just witnessed; but, after some musing, observed: "There is much
truth in what each of these parties say. I blame them only for the
course they take towards each other. Their dispute is, in fact, of a
most frivolous and unmeaning character; for, if the father was to carry
his point, the girls would occasionally sell the productions of their
garden, and pay for making their clothes, or even buy them ready made.
Were the mother, on the other hand, to prevail, they would still
occasionally use their needles, and exercise their taste and skill in
sewing, spinning, knitting, and the like. Nay," added he, "if you had
not been so much engrossed with this angry and indecorous altercation,
you might have seen two of them at their needles, in an adjoining
apartment, while one was busy at work in the garden, and another up to
the elbows in the soap-suds--all so closely engaged in their several
pursuits, that they hardly seemed to know they were the subject of
discussion."
I told the Brahmin that a dispute, not unlike this, had taken place in
my own country, a few years since; some of our politicians contending
that agricultural labour was most conducive to the national wealth,
whilst others maintained that manufacturing industry was equally
advantageous, wherever it was voluntarily pursued;--but that the
controversy had lately assumed a different character--the question now
being, not whether manufactures are as beneficial as agriculture, but
whether they deserve extraordinary encouragement, by taxing those who do
not give them a preference.
"That is," said the Brahmin, "as if our landlady, by way of inducing her
daughters to give up gardening for spinning, were to tell them, if they
did not find their new occupation as profitable as the old, she would
more than make up the difference out of her own pocket, which, though it
might suit the daughters very well, would be a losing business to
the family."
CHAPTER XIII.
_Description of the Happy Valley--The laws, customs, and manners of the
Okalbians--Theory of population--Rent--System of government._
The Brahmin, who was desirous of showing me what was most remarkable in
this country, during the short time we intended to stay, thought this a
favourable time to visit Okalbia, or the Happy Valley. The Okalbians are
a tribe or nation, who live separated from the rest of the Lunar world,
and whose wise government, prudence, industry, and integrity, are very
highly extolled by all, though, by what I can learn, they have few
imitators. They dwell about three hundred miles north of the city of
Alamatua, in a fertile valley, which they obtained by purchase about two
hundred years since, and which is about equal to twenty miles square,
that is, to four hundred square miles. A carriage and four well-broke
dogs, was procured for us, and we soon reached the foot of the mountain
that encloses the fortunate valley, in about fifty-two hours. We then
ascended, for about three miles, with far fatigue than I formerly
experienced in climbing the Catskill mountains of my native State, and
found ourselves on the summit of an extensive ridge, which formed the
margin of a vast elliptical basin, the bottom of which presented a most
beautiful landscape. The whole surface was like a garden, interspersed
with patches of wood, clumps of trees, and houses standing singly or in
groupes. A lake, about a mile across, received several small streams,
and on its edge was a town, containing about a thousand houses. After
enjoying the beauties of the scene for some minutes, we descended by a
rough winding road, and entered this Lunar Paradise, in about four
hours. Along the sides of the highway we travelled, were planted rows of
trees, not unlike our sycamores, which afforded a refreshing shade to
the traveller; and commonly a rivulet ran bubbling along one side or the
other of the road.
After journeying about eight miles, we entered a neat, well built town,
which contained, as we were informed, about fifteen thousand
inhabitants. The Brahmin informed me, that in a time of religious
fervour, about two centuries ago, a charter was granted to the founder
of a new sect, the Volbins, who had chanced to make converts of some of
the leading men in Morosofia, authorising him and his followers to
purchase this valley of the hunting tribe to whom it belonged, and to
govern themselves by their own laws. They found no difficulty in making
the purchase. It was then used as a mere hunting ground, no one liking
to settle in a place that seemed shut out from the rest of the world. At
first, the new settlers divided the land equally among all the
inhabitants, one of their tenets being, that as there was no difference
of persons in the next world, there should be no difference in sharing
the good things of this. They tried at first to preserve this equality;
but finding it impracticable, they abandoned it. It is said that after
about thirty years, by reason of a difference in their industry and
frugality, and of some families spending less than they made, and some
more, the number of land owners was reduced to four hundred, and that
fifty of these held one half of the whole; since which time the number
of landed proprietors has declined with the population, though not in
the same proportion. As the soil is remarkably fertile, the climate
healthy, and the people temperate and industrious, they multiplied very
rapidly until they reached their present numbers, which have been long
stationary, and amount to 150,000, that is, about four hundred to a
square mile; of these, more than one half live in towns and villages,
containing from one hundred to a thousand houses.
They have little or no commerce with any other people, the valley
producing every vegetable production, and the mountains every mineral,
which they require; and in fact, they have no foreign intercourse
whatever, except when they visit, or are visited from curiosity. Though
they have been occasionally bullied and threatened by lawless and
overbearing neighbours; yet, as they can be approached by only a single
gorge in the mountain, which is always well garrisoned, (and they
present no sufficient object to ambition, to compensate for the scandal
of invading so inoffensive and virtuous a people,) they have never yet
been engaged in war.
I felt very anxious to know how it was that their numbers did not
increase, as they were exempt from all pestilential diseases, and live
in such abundance, that a beggar by trade has never been known among
them, and are remarkable for their moral habits.
"Let us inquire at the fountain-head," said the Brahmin; and we went to
see the chief magistrate, who received us in a style of unaffected
frankness, which in a moment put us at our ease. After we had explained
to him who we were, and answered such inquiries as he chose to make:
"Sir," said I, through the Brahmin, who acted as interpreter, "I have
heard much of your country, and I find, on seeing it, that it exceeds
report, in the order, comfort, contentment, and abundance of the people.
But I am puzzled to find out how it is that your numbers do not
increase. I presume you marry late in life?"
"On the contrary," said he; "every young man marries as soon as he
receives his education, and is capable of managing the concerns of a
family. Some are thus qualified sooner, and some later."
"Some occasionally migrate, then?"
"Never. A number of our young men, indeed, visit foreign countries, but
not one in a hundred settles abroad."
"How, then, do your associates continue stationary?"
"Nothing is more easy. No man has a larger family than his land or
labour can support, in comfort; and as long as that is the case with
every individual, it must continue to be the case with the whole
community. We leave the matter to individual discretion. The prudential
caution which is thus indicated, has been taught us by our own
experience. We had gone on increasing, under the encouraging influence
of a mild system of laws, genial climate, and fruitful soil, until,
about a century ago, we found that our numbers were greater than our
country, abundant as it is, could comfortably support; and our seasons
being unfavourable for two successive years, many of our citizens were
obliged to banish themselves from Okalbia; and their education not
fitting them for a different state of society, they suffered severely,
both in their comforts and morals. It is now a primary moral duty,
enforced by all our juvenile instructors with every citizen, to adapt
his family to his means; and thus a regard which each individual has for
his offspring, is the salvation of the State."
"And can these prudential restraints be generally practised? What a
virtuous people! Love for one another brings the two sexes
together--love for their offspring makes them separate!"
"I see," said the magistrate, smiling, "you are under an error. No
separation takes place, and none is necessary."
"How, then, am I to believe.....?"
"You are to believe nothing," said he, with calm dignity, "which is
incompatible with virtue and propriety. I see that the most important of
all sciences--that one on which the well-being and improvement of
society mainly depends,--is in its infancy with you. But whenever you
become as populous as we are, and unite the knowledge of real happiness
with the practice of virtue, you will understand it. It is one of our
maxims, that heaven gives wisdom to man in such portions as his
situation requires it; and no doubt it is the same with the people of
your earth."
I did not, after this, push my inquiries farther; but remarked, aside to
the Brahmin,--"I would give a good deal to know this secret, provided it
would suit our planet."
"It is already known there," replied he, "and has been long practised by
many in the east: but in the present state of society with you, it might
do more harm than good to be made public, by removing one of the checks
of licentiousness, where women are so unrestrained as they are
Changing now the subject, I ventured to inquire how they employed their
leisure hours, and whether many did not experience here a wearisome
sameness, and a feeling of confinement and restraint.
"It is true," said the magistrate, "men require variety; but I would not
have you suppose he cannot find it here. He may cultivate his lands,
improve his mind, educate his children; these are his serious
occupations, affording every day some employment that is, at once, new
and interesting: and, by way of relaxation, he has music, painting, and
sculpture; sailing, riding, conversation, storytelling, and reading the
news of what is passing, both in the valley and out of it."
I asked if they had newspapers. He answered in the affirmative; and
added, that they contained minute details of the births, deaths,
marriages, accidents, state of the weather and crops, arbitrations,
public festivals, inventions, original poetry, and prose compositions.
In addition to which, they had about fifty of their most promising young
men travelling abroad, who made observations on all that was remarkable
in the countries they passed through, which they regularly transmitted
once a month to Okalbia. I inquired if they travelled at the public
expense or their own?
"They always pursue some profession or trade, by the profits of which
they support themselves. We have nothing but intellect and ingenuity to
export; for though our country produces every thing, there is no
commodity that we can so well spare. Their talents find them employment
every where; and the necessity they are under of a laborious exertion of
these talents, and of submitting to a great deal from those whose
customs and manners are not to their taste, and whom they feel inferior
to themselves, is a considerable check to the desire to go abroad, so
much so, that we hold out the farther inducement of political
distinction when they return."
"What, then! you have ambition among you?"
"Certainly; our institutions have only tempered it, and not vainly
endeavoured to extinguish it; and we find it employment in this way: Of
our youthful travellers, those who are most diligent in their vocation;
who give the most useful information, and communicate it in the happiest
manner, are made magistrates, on their return, and sometimes have
statues decreed to them. Besides, the name which their conduct or
talents procure them abroad, is echoed back to the valley, long before
their return, and has much influence in the general estimate of their
"But have you not many more competitors, than you have public offices?"
"There are, without doubt, many who desire office; but to manifest their
wish, would be one of the surest means of defeating it. We require
modesty, (at least in appearance,) moderation and disinterestedness, and
of course, the less pains a candidate takes to show himself off,
the better."
"But have they no friends, who can at once render them this service, and
relieve them from the odium of it?"
"There is, indeed, somewhat of this; but you must remember, that the
highest of our magistrates has comparatively little power. He has no
army, no treasury, no patronage; he merely executes the laws. But, as a
farther check on the immoderate zeal of friends, the expense of doing
this, as well as of maintaining him in office, is defrayed by those who
vote for him. There seems, at first view, but little justice in this
regulation; but we think, that as every one cannot have his way, those
who carry their point, and have the power, should also bear the burden:
besides, in this way the voices of the most generous and disinterested
prevail. We have," he added, "found this the most difficult part of our
government. We once thought that the very lively interest excited in the
electioneering contests, particularly for that of Gompoo, or chief
magistrate, was to be ascribed to the power he possessed; and we
resorted to various expedients to lessen it--such as dividing it among a
greater number--requiring a quick rotation of office--abridging the
powers themselves: but we discovered, that however small the power, the
distinction it gave to those who possessed it, was always an object of
lively interest with the ambitious, and indeed with the public in
general. We have, therefore, enlarged the power, and the term of holding
it, and make him who would attain it, purchase it by previous exertion
and self-denial: and we farther compel those who favour him, to lose as
well as gain. We array the love of money against the love of power; or
rather, one love of power to another. Moreover, as it is only by the
civic virtues that our citizens recommend themselves to popular favour,
there is nothing of that enthusiasm which military success excites among
the natives."
Our Washington then presented himself to my mind, and for a moment I
began to question his claim to the unexampled honours bestowed on him by
his countrymen, until I recollected that he was as distinguished by his
respect for the laws, and his sound views of national policy, as for his
military services.
I then inquired into the occupations and condition of those who were
without land; and was told that they were either cultivators of the
soil, or practised some liberal or mechanical art; and, partly owing to
the education they receive, and partly from the active competition that
exists among them, they are skilful, diligent, and honest. Now and then
there are some exceptions, according to the proverb, that _in the best
field of grain there will be some bad ears_. The land-owners sometimes
cultivate the soil with their own hands--sometimes with hired
labourers--and sometimes they rent them for about a third of their
produce. The smallest proprietors commonly adopt the first course; the
middling, the second; and the great landholders the third."
"But I thought," said I, "that all the land in the valley was of equal
"So it is; but what has that to do with rent?"
"Sir," said I, "our ablest writers on this subject have lately
discovered that there can be no rent where there is not a gradation of
soils, such as exists in every country of the earth."
"I see not," said he, "what could have led them into that error. It is
true, if there was inferior land, there would be a difference of rent in
proportion to the difference of fertility; and if it was so poor as
merely to repay the expense of cultivation, it would yield no rent at
all. But surely, if one man makes as much as several consume, (and this
he can easily do with us,) he will be able to get much of their labour
in exchange for this surplus, which is so indispensable to them, and to
get more and more, until the greatest number has come into existence
which such surplus can support. What they thus give, if the proprietor
retains the land himself, you may regard as the extraordinary profits of
agricultural labour, or rent, if paid to any one to whom he transfers
this benefit. This is precisely our present situation."
There was no denying this statement of facts: but I could not help
exclaiming,--"Surely there is nothing certain in the universe; or
rather, truth is one thing in the moon, and another thing on the earth."
CHAPTER XIV.
_Farther account of Okalbia--The Field of Roses--Curious superstition
concerning that flower--The pleasures of smell traced to association, by
a Glonglim philosopher._
Though I felt some reluctance to abuse the patience of this polite and
intelligent magistrate, I could not help making some inquiry about the
jurisprudence of his country, and first, what was their system of
"We have no capital punishment," says he; "for, from all we learn, it is
not more efficacious in preventing crime, than other punishments which
are milder; and we prefer making the example to offenders a lasting one.
But we endeavour to prevent offences, not so much by punishment as by
education; and the few crimes committed among us, bring certain censure
on those who have the early instruction of the criminal. Murders are
very rare with us; thefts and robbery perhaps still more so. Our
ordinary disputes about property, are commonly settled by arbitration,
where, as well as in court, each party is permitted to state his case,
to examine what witnesses and to ask what questions he pleases."
"You do not," said I, "examine witnesses who are interested?"
"Why not? The judges even examine the parties themselves."
I then told him that the smallest direct interest in the issue of the
controversy, disqualified a witness with us, from the strong bias it
created to misrepresent facts, and even to misconceive them.
He replied with a smile,--"It seems to me that your extreme fear of
hearing falsehood, must often prevent you from ascertaining the truth.
It is true, that wherever the interest of a witness is involved, it has
an immediate tendency to make him misstate facts: but so would personal
ill-will--so would his sympathies--so would any strong feeling. What,
then, is your course in these cases?"
I told him that these objections applied to the credibility, and not to
the competency, of witnesses, which distinctions of the lawyers I
endeavoured to explain to him.
"Then I think you often exclude a witness who is under a small bias, and
admit another who is under a great one. You allow a man to give
testimony in a case in which the fortune or character of his father,
brother or child is involved, but reject him in a case in which he is
not interested to the amount of a greater sum than he would give to the
first beggar he met. Is it not so?"
"That, indeed, may be the operation of the rule. But cases of such
flagrant inconsistency are very rare; and this rule, like every other,
must be tried by its general, and not its partial effects."
"True; but your rule must at least be a troublesome one, and give rise
to a great many nice distinctions, that make it difficult in the
application. All laws are sufficiently exposed to this evil, and we do
not wish unnecessarily to increase it. We have, therefore, adopted the
plan of allowing either party to ask any question of any witness he
pleases, and leave it to the judges to estimate the circumstances which
may bias the witness. We, in short, pursue the same course in
investigating facts in court that we pursue out of it, when no one forms
a judgment until he has first heard what the parties and their friends
say on the subject."
On my return home, I repeated this conversation to a lawyer of my
acquaintance, who told me that such a rule of evidence might do for the
people in the moon, but it certainly would not suit us. I leave the
matter to be settled by more competent heads than mine, and return to my
I farther learnt from this intelligent magistrate, that the territory of
the Happy Valley, or Okalbia, is divided into forty-two counties, and
each county into ten districts. In each district are three magistrates,
who are appointed by the legislature. Causes of small value are decided
by the magistrates of the district; those of greater importance, by the
county courts, composed of all the magistrates of the ten districts; a
few by the court of last court, consisting of seven judges. The
legislature consists of two houses, of which the members are elected
annually, three from each county for one branch, and one member for the
other. No qualification of property is required either to vote, or to be
eligible to either house of the legislature, as they believe that the
natural influence of property is sufficient, without adding to that
influence by law; and that the moral effects of education among them,
together with a few provisions in their constitution, are quite
sufficient to guard against any improper combination of those who have
small property. Besides, there are no odious privileges exclusively
possessed by particular classes of men, to excite the envy or resentment
of the other classes, and induce them to act in concert.
"Have you, then, no parties?" said I.
"Oh yes; we are not without our political parties and disputes; and we
sometimes wrangle about very small matters--such as, what amount of
labour shall be bestowed on the public roads--the best modes of
conducting our schools and colleges--the comparative merits of the
candidates for office, or the policy of some proposed change in the
laws. Man is made, you know, of very combustible materials, and may be
kindled as effectually by a spark falling at the right time, in the
right place, as when within reach of a great conflagration."
The women appeared here to be under few restraints. I understood that
they were taught, like our sex, all the speculative branches of
knowledge, but that they were more especially instructed, by professed
teachers, in cookery, needlework, and every sort of domestic economy; as
were the young men in the occupations which require strength and
exposure. They have a variety of public schools, and some houses for
public festivals, but no public hospitals or almshouses whatever, the
few cases of private distress or misfortune being left for relief to the
merits of the sufferer and the compassion of individuals.
After passing a week among this singular and fortunate people, whom we
every where found equally amiable, intelligent, and hospitable, we
returned to Alamatua in the same way that we had come; that is, in a
light car, drawn by four large mastiffs. When we had recovered from the
fatigues of the journey, and I had carefully committed to paper all that
I had learnt of the Okalbians, the Brahmin and I took a walk towards a
part of the suburbs which I had not yet seen, and where some of the
literati of his acquaintance resided. The sun appeared to be not more
than two hours high (though, in fact, it was more than fifty); the sky
was without a cloud, and a fresh breeze from the mountains contributed
to make it like one of the most delightful summer evenings of a
temperate climate.
We carelessly rambled along, enjoying the balmy freshness of the air,
the picturesque scenery of the neighbouring mountains, the beauty or
fragrance of some vegetable productions, and the oddity of others,
until, having passed through a thick wood, we came to an extensive
plain, which was covered with rose-bushes. The queen of flowers here
appeared under every variety of colour, size, and species--red, white,
black, and yellow--budding, full-blown, and half-blown;--some with
thorns, and some without; some odourless, and others exhaling their
unrivalled perfume with an overpowering sweetness. I was about to pluck
one of these flowers, (of which I have always been particularly fond,)
when a man, whom I had not previously observed, stepping up behind me,
seized my arm, and asked me if I knew what I was doing. He told us that
the roses of this field, which is called Gulgal, were deemed sacred, and
were not allowed to be gathered without the special permission of the
priests, under a heavy penalty; and that he was one of those whose duty
it was to prevent the violation of the law, and to bring the offenders
to punishment.
The Brahmin, having diverted himself a while with my surprise and
disappointment, then informed me, that the rose had ever been regarded
in Morosofia, as the symbol of female purity, delicacy, and sweetness;
which notion had grown into a popular superstition, that whenever a
marriage is consummated on the earth, one of these flowers springs up in
the moon; and that in colour, shape, size, or other property, it is a
fit type of the individual whose change of state is thus commemorated.
"What, father," said I, "could have given rise to so strange an
"I know not," said he; "but I have heard it thus explained:--That the
roses generally spring up, as well as blow, in the course of their long
nights, during which the earth's resplendent disc is the most
conspicuous object in the heavens; which two facts stand, in the opinion
of the multitude, in the relation of cause and effect. Attributing,
then, the symbolical character of the rose to its tutelary planet, they
regard the earth in the same light as the ancients did the chaste Diana,
and believe that she plants this her favourite flower in the moon,
whenever she loses a votary. The priesthood encourage this superstition,
as they have grafted on it some mystical rites, which add to their power
and profit, and which one of our Pundits thinks has a great resemblance
to the Eleusinian mysteries. There is, however, my dear Atterley, little
satisfaction in tracing the origin of vulgar superstitions. They grow up
like a strange plant in a forest, without our being able to tell how the
seed found its way there. It is generally believed in the east, that the
moon, at particular periods of her revolution round the earth, has a
great influence in causing rain; though every one must see, that,
notwithstanding such influence must be the same in every part of the
earth, it is invariably fair in one place, at the very time that it is
rainy in another. Nay, we may safely aver that there is not a day, nor
an hour, in the year, in which it is not dry and rainy, cloudy and
clear, windy and calm, in hundreds of places at once."
I told the Brahmin that the same opinion prevailed in my country. That
the vulgar also believe the moon, according to its age, to have
particular effects on the flesh of slaughtered animals; and that all
sailors distinguish between a wet and a dry day, according to the
position of the crescent.
We then inquired of the warden of this flowery plain, if he had ever
remarked any difference in the number of roses which sprung up in a
given period of time. He said he thought they were more numerous about
five and twenty or thirty years ago, than he had ever seen them before
or since. With that exception, he said, the number appeared to be nearly
the same every year.
The Brahmin happening to be in one of those pleasant moods which are
occasionally experienced by amiable tempers, even when under the
pressure of sorrow and age, now amused himself in pointing out the
flowers which probably represented the different nations of the earth;
and when he saw any one remarkably small, pale and delicate, he insisted
that it belonged to his own country; which point, however, I, not
yielding to him in nationality, warmly contested. I would here remark,
that as the rose is called _gul_ in the Persian language and the ancient
Sanscrit, the name of this field furnished another argument in support
of the Brahmin's hypothesis of the origin of the moon.
While thus oblivious of the past, and reckless of the future, we were
enjoying the present moment in this _badinage_, and I was extolling the
odour of the rose, as beyond every other grateful to the olfactory
nerves of man, a lively, flippant little personage came up, and accosted
the Brahmin with the familiarity of an acquaintance. My companion
immediately introduced me to him, and at the same time gave me to
understand that this was the great Reffei, one of the most distinguished
literati of the country. Although his eye was remarkably piercing, I
perceived in it somewhat of the wildness which always characterizes a
Glonglim. He was evidently impatient for discussion; and having informed
himself of the subject of my rhapsody when he joined our party, he
vehemently exclaimed,--"I am surprised at your falling in with that
popular prejudice; while it is easy to show, that but for some feeling
of love, or pity, or admiration, with which the rose happens to be
associated--some past pleasure which it brings to your recollection, or
some future pleasure which it suggests,--any other flower would be
equally sweet. You see the rose a very beautiful flower; and you have
been accustomed, whenever you saw and felt its beauty, to perceive, at
the same time, a certain odour. The beauty and the odour thus become
associated in your mind, and the smell brings along with it the pleasure
you feel in looking at it. But the chief part of the gratification you
receive from smelling a rose, arises from some past scene of delight of
which it reminds you; as, of the days of your innocence and childhood,
when you ran about the garden--or when you were decorated with
nosegays--or danced round a may-pole, (this is rather a free
translation)--or presented a bunch of flowers to some little favourite."
He said a great deal more on the subject, and spoke so prettily and
ingeniously, as almost to make a convert of me; when, on bringing my
nose once more to the flower, I found in it the same exquisite
fragrance as ever.
"Why do we like," he continued, "the smell of a beef-steak, or of a cup
of tea, except for the pleasure we receive from their taste?"
I mentioned, as an exception to his theory, the codfish, which is
esteemed a very savoury dish by my countrymen, but which no one ever
regarded as very fragrant. But he repelled my objection by an ingenious
hypothesis, grounded on certain physiological facts, to show that this
supposed disagreeable smell was also the effect of some early
associations. I then mentioned to him assafoetida, the odour of which I
believed was universally odious. He immediately replied, that we are
always accustomed to associate with this drug, the disagreeable ideas of
sickness, female weakness, hysterics, affectation, &c. Unable to
continue the argument, I felt myself vanquished. I again stooped to the
flower, and as I inhaled its perfume, "Surely," said I to myself, "this
rose would be sweet if I were to lose my memory altogether:" but
recollecting the great Reffei's argument, I mentally added thanks to
divine philosophy, which always corrects our natural prejudices.
_Atterley goes to the great monthly fair--Its various exhibitions;
difficulties--Preparations to leave the Moon--Curiosities procured by
Atterley--Regress to the Earth._
The philosopher, not waiting to enjoy the triumph of victory, abruptly
took his leave, and we, refreshed and delighted with our walk, returned
home. Our landlord informed us that we had arrived in good time to
attend the great fair, or market, which regularly takes place a little
before the sun sinks below the horizon. Having taken a short repast,
while the Brahmin called on one of his acquaintance, I sallied forth
into the street, and soon found myself in the bustling throng, who were
hastening to this great resort of the busy, the idle, the knavish, and
the gay; some in pursuit of gain, and some of pleasure; whilst others
again, without any settled purpose, were carried along by the vague
desire of meeting with somewhat to relieve them from the pain
of idleness.
The fair was held in a large square piece of ground in one of the
suburbs, set apart for that purpose; and on each of its four sides a
long low building, or rather roof, supported on massy white columns,
extended about six hundred yards in length, and was thirty yards wide.
Immediately within this arcade were arranged the finer kinds of
merchandise, fabrics of cotton or silk, and articles of jewelry,
cutlery, porcelain, and glass. On the outside were provisions of every
kind, vegetable and animal, flesh, fish, and fowl, as well as the
coarser manufactures. At no great distance from this hollow square,
(which was used exclusively for buying and selling,) might be seen an
infinite variety of persons, collected in groupes, all engaged in some
occupation or amusement, according to their several tastes and humours.
Here a party of young men were jumping, or wrestling, or shooting at a
mark with cross-bows. There, girls and boys were dancing to the sound of
a pipe, or still smaller children were playing at marbles, or amusing
themselves with the toys they had just purchased. Not far from these, a
quack from one scaffold was descanting on the virtues of his medicines,
whilst a preacher from another was holding forth to the graver part of
the crowd, the joys and terrors of another life; and yet farther on, a
motley groupe were listening to a blind beggar, who was singing to the
music of a sort of rude guitar. Here and there curtains, hanging from a
slight frame of wood-work, veiled a small square from the eyes of all,
except those who paid a nail for admittance. Some of these curtained
boxes contained jugglers--some tumblers--some libidinous pictures--and
others again, strange birds, beasts, and other animals. I observed that
none of the exhibitions were as much frequented as these booths; and I
was told that the corporation of the city derived from them a
considerable revenue. Amidst such an infinite variety of objects, my
attention was so distracted that it could not settle down upon any one,
and I strolled about without object or design.
When I had become more familiar with this mixed multitude of sights and
sounds, I endeavoured to take a closer survey of some of the objects
composing the medley. The first thing which attracted my particular
notice, was a profusion of oaths and imprecations, which proceeded from
one of the curtained booths. I paid the admittance money to a
well-dressed man, of smooth, easy manners, and entered. I found there
several parties paired off, and engaged at different games; but, like
the rest of the bystanders, I felt myself most strongly attracted
towards the two who were betting highest. One of these was an elderly
man, of a tall stature, in a plain dress; the other was a short man, in
very costly apparel, and some years younger. For a long time the scales
of victory seemed balanced between them; but at length the tall man, who
had great self-possession, and who played with consummate skill, won the
game: soon after which he rose up, and making a graceful, respectful bow
to the rest of the company, he retired. Not being able to catch his eye,
so intent was he on his game, I felt some curiosity to know whether he
was a Glonglim; but could not ascertain the fact, as some of whom the
Brahmin inquired, said that he was, while others maintained that he was
not. His adversary, however, evidently belonged to that class, and, when
flushed with hope, reminded me of the feather-hunter. At first he
endeavoured, by forced smiles, to conceal his rage and disappointment.
He then bit his lips with vexation, and challenged one of the bystanders
to play for a smaller stake. Fortune seemed about to smile on him on
this occasion; but one of the company, who appeared to be very much
respected by the rest, detected the little man in some false play, and
publicly exposing him, broke up the game. I understood afterwards, that
before the fair was over, the gamester avenged himself for this injury
in the other's blood: that he then returned to the fair, secretly
entered another gambling booth, where he betted so rashly, that he soon
lost not only his patrimonial estate, which was large, but his acquired
wealth, which was much larger. Having lost all his property, and even
his clothes, he then staked and lost his liberty, and even his teeth,
which were very good; and he will thus be compelled to live on soups for
the rest of his life.
I saw several other matches played, in which great sums were betted,
great skill was exhibited, and occasionally much unfairness practised.
There was one man in the crowd, whose extraordinary good fortune I could
not but admire. He went about from table to table, sometimes betting
high and sometimes low, but was generally successful, until he had won
as much as he could fairly carry; after which he went out, and amused
himself at a puppet-show, and the stall of a cake-woman, with whom he
had formerly quarrelled, but who now, when she learnt his success, was
obsequiously civil to him. I did not see that he manifested superior
skill, but still he was successful; and in his last great stake with a
young, but not inexpert player, he won the game, though the chances were
three to two against him. "Surely," thought I, "fortune rules the
destinies of man in the moon as well as on the earth."
On looking now at my watch, I found that I had been longer a witness of
these trials of skill and fortune, than I had been aware; and on leaving
the booth, perceived that the sun had sunk behind the western mountains,
and that the earth began to beam with her nocturnal splendour. Those who
had come from a distance, were already hurrying back with their carts;
and here and there light cars, of various forms and colours, and drawn
by dogs, were conveying those away whose object had been amusement. Some
were snatching a hasty meal; and a few, by their quiet air, seemed as if
they meant to continue on the spot as long as the regulations permit,
after sunset, which is about twenty of our hours. I found the Brahmin at
home when I returned, and I felt as much pleased to see him, as if we
had not seen each other for many months.
As the shades of night approached, my anxiety to return to my native
planet increased, and I urged my friend to lose no time in preparing for
our departure. We were soon afterwards informed that a man high in
office, and renowned for his political sagacity, proposed to detain us,
on the ground that when such voyages as ours were shown to be
practicable, the inhabitants of the earth, who were so much more
numerous than those of the moon, might invade the latter with a large
army, for the purposes of rapine and conquest. We farther learnt that
this opinion, which was at first cautiously circulated in the higher
circles, had become more generally known, and was producing a strong
sensation among the people.
The Brahmin immediately presented himself before the council of state,
to remove the impression. He pointed out to them the insurmountable
obstacles to such an invasion, physical and moral. He urged to them that
the nations of the earth felt so much jealousy and ill-will towards one
another, that they never cordially co-operated in any enterprise for
their common interest or glory; and that if any one nation were to send
an army into the moon, such a scheme of ambition would afford at once a
temptation and pretext for its neighbours to invade it. That his country
had not the ability, and mine had not the inclination, to attack the
liberties of any other: so far from that, he informed them, on my
authority, that we were in the habit of sending teachers abroad, to
instruct other nations in the duties of religion, morals, and humanity.
He entered into some calculations, to show that the project was also
impracticable on account of its expense; and, lastly, insisted that if
all other difficulties were removed, we should find it impossible to
convince the people of the earth that we had really been to the moon. I
have since found that the Brahmin was more right in his last argument,
than I then believed possible.
I am not able to say what effect these representations of the Brahmin
would have produced, if they had not been taken up and enforced by the
political rival of him who had first opposed our departure; but by his
powerful aid they finally triumphed, and we obtained a formal permission
to leave the moon whenever, we thought proper.
As we meant to return in the same machine in which we came, we were not
long in preparing for our voyage. We proposed to set out about the
middle of the night; and we passed the chief part of the interval in
making visits of ceremony, and in calling on those who had shown us
civility. I endeavoured also, to collect such articles as I thought
would be most curious and rare in my own country, and most likely to
produce conviction with those who might be disposed to question the fact
of my voyage. I was obliged, however, to limit myself to such things as
were neither bulky nor weighty, the Brahmin thinking that after we had
taken in our instruments and the necessary provisions, we could not
safely take more than twenty or thirty pounds in addition.
Some of my lunar curiosities, which I thought would be most new and
interesting to my countrymen, have proved to be very familiar to our men
of science. This has been most remarkably the case with my mineral
specimens. Of the leaves and flowers of above seventy plants, which I
brought, more than forty are found on the earth, and several of these
grow in my native State. With the insects I have been more successful;
but some of these, as well as of the plants, I am assured, are found on
the coasts of the Pacific, or in the islands of that ocean; which fact,
by the way, gives a farther support to the Brahmin's hypothesis.
Besides the productions of nature that I have mentioned, I procured some
specimens of their cloth, a few light toys, a lady's turban decorated
with cantharides, a pair of slippers with heavy metallic soles, which
are used there for walking in a strong wind, and by the dancing girls to
prevent their jumping too high. As this metal, which gravitates to the
moon, is repelled from the earth, these slippers assist the wearer here
in springing from the ground as much as they impeded it in the moon, and
therefore I have lent them to Madame ----, of the New-York Theatre, who
is thus enabled to astonish and delight the spectators with her
wonderful lightness and agility.
But there is nothing that I have brought which I prize so highly as a
few of their manuscripts. The Lunarians write as we do, from left to
right; but when their words consist of more than one syllable, all the
subsequent syllables are put over the first, so that what we call _long
words_, they call _high_ ones: which mode of writing makes them more
striking to the eye. This peculiarity has, perhaps, had some effect in
giving their writers a magniloquence of style, something like that which
so laudably characterises our Fourth of July Orations and Funeral
Panegyrics: that composition being thought the finest in which the words
stand highest. Another advantage of this mode of writing is, that they
can crowd more in a small page, so that a long discourse, if it is also
very eloquent, may be compressed in a single page. I have left some of
the manuscripts with the publisher of this work, for the gratification
of the public curiosity.
Having taken either respectful or affectionate leave of all, and got
every thing in readiness, on the 20th day of August, 1825, about
midnight we again entered our copper balloon, if I may so speak, and
rose from the moon with the same velocity as we had formerly ascended
from the earth. Though I experienced somewhat of my former sensations,
when I again found myself off the solid ground, yet I soon regained my
self-possession; and, animated with the hope of seeing my children and
country, with the past success of our voyage, and (I will not disguise
it,) with the distinction which I expected it would procure me from my
countrymen, I was in excellent spirits. The Brahmin exhibited the same
mild equanimity as ever.
As the course of our ascent was now less inclined from the vertical line
than before, in proportion as the motion of the moon on its axis, is
slower than that of the earth, we for some hours could see the former,
only by the light reflected from our planet; and although the objects on
the moon's surface were less distinct, they appeared yet more beautiful
in my eyes than they had done in the glare of day. The difference,
however, may be in part attributed to my being now in a better frame of
mind for enjoying the scene. As our distance increased, the face of the
moon became of a lighter and more uniform tint, until at length it
looked like one vast lake of melted silver, with here and there small
pieces of greyish dross floating on it. After contemplating this lovely
and magnificent spectacle for about an hour, I turned to the Brahmin,
and reminded him of his former promise to give me the history of his
early life. He replied, "as you have seen all that you can see of the
moon, and the objects of the earth are yet too indistinct to excite much
interest, I am not likely to have a more suitable occasion;" and after a
short pause, he began in the way that the reader may see in the
next chapter.
CHAPTER XVI.
_The Brahmin gives Atterley a history of his life._
"I have already informed you that I was born at Benares, which, as you
know, is a populous city on the banks of the Ganges, and the most
celebrated seat of Hindoo science and literature. My father was a priest
of Vishun, of a high rank; and as his functions required him to live
within the precincts of the Pagoda, he was liberally maintained out of
its ample revenues. I was his only son, and according to the usage of
our country, was destined to the same holy calling. At an early age I
was put under a private tutor, and then sent to one of the schools
attached to the Pagoda. Upon what little matters, my dear Atterley, do
our fortunes, and even our characters depend! Had I been sent to another
school, the whole destiny of my life would have been changed.
"I was in my twelfth year when I entered this school, which contained
from thirty to forty boys about my age. The cleverest of these was Balty
Mahu, who, like myself, belonged to the higher order of Brahmins. He
took the lead, not only in the exercises within the school, but in all
the sports and pastimes out of it. Nature, however, had not been equally
kind to him in temper and disposition. He was restless, ambitious,
proud, vindictive, and implacable. He could occasionally, too, practise
cunning and deception; although anger and violence were more congenial
to his nature.
"It soon appeared that I was to be his rival in the school, and from
that moment he cordially hated me. The praises that had previously been
lavished on him by the teacher, were now shared by me, and most of the
boys secretly rejoiced to see his proud spirit humbled. In our sports I
was also his successful competitor. Nature had given me an excellent
constitution; and though I had not a very robust frame, I could boast of
great agility and flexibility of limbs. When the sun had descended
behind the mountain which screened our play-ground from his evening
rays, we commonly amused ourselves in foot-races, and other pastimes, of
which running was an important part. In this exercise I had no equal. I
could also jump higher and farther than any boy in school, except one,
and that one was not Balty Mahu.
"His ill-will was not slow in manifesting itself. He took every occasion
of contradicting me: sometimes indulged in sly sneers at my expense, and
now and then even attempted to turn me into open ridicule. I always
replied with spirit; but I found such contests as disagreeable to me as
they were new. One evening, under the pretext that I had purposely
jostled him in running, he struck me, and we fought. Although he was
probably stronger than I, as he was heavier and older, my suppleness
enabled me to get the better of him in a wrestle; and I got him under
me, when the master, attracted by the shouts of the boys, made his
appearance. He separated and reproved us, and sent us off in disgrace to
our respective rooms. From that time Balty Mahu treated me with more
outward respect than before; but I believe he hated me with more rancour
"I had now become the general favourite of the boys. The school was,
indeed, divided into parties, but mine was much the strongest; and of
those who adhered to my rival, very few seemed cordially to dislike me.
Though this state of things was very annoying to me, it proved
advantageous in one respect, as it made me more diligent in my studies,
lest I should furnish my rival with an occasion of triumphing ever me;
so that I owe a part of what I gained to the enmity of my rival.
"When I had reached my sixteenth year, I was removed to the college in
Benares. This is commonly a very interesting event in the life of a
youth, as it reminds him that he is drawing near the period of manhood,
and leaves him more a master of his actions. But on the present occasion
my pleasure had two drawbacks: I could not but feel the contrast between
the warm and confiding attachment of my late school-fellows, and the
coldness and reserve of my new companions. Yet the most disagreeable
circumstance was, that I here met with my former rival, Balty Mahu. He
had entered the college about a month before me, and, aware of my
intention, had spared no pains, as I afterwards learnt, of prejudicing
the students against me.
"After a few months, however, our relative standing was the same here as
it had been at the school. I gradually overcame the prejudices of the
students, and gained their good will, while he was always giving offence
by his meddlesome disposition and overbearing manners: yet his talents
and force of character always procured him a few followers, whom he
managed as he pleased. Of their aid he made use to gratify his
malevolence towards me, for this feeling had grown with his growth, and
now seemed to be the master passion of his breast. I was able to trace
the result of their machinations every where. Sometimes it was intimated
to the teachers that I had been assisted in my exercises; at others,
that I had infringed the college rules, or had put false reports in
circulation, or had neglected some of the many ceremonies required by
our religion. This was their favourite, as well as the most efficient
mode of attack, as in these respects there was some colour for their
"In my early childhood I had been spared, by the tenderest of mothers,
from many of the ablutions practised by the Hindoos, under the belief
that they would be injurious to my constitution, which, though healthy,
had never been robust. A foundation was thus laid with me for habitual
remissness in these ceremonies; and after I grew up, I persuaded myself
that they were of less importance than they were deemed by my
countrymen. My chief delight had ever been in books; and although, when
engaged in active pursuits, I took a lively interest in them for the
time, I always returned to my first love with unabated ardour.
"Some of these accusations, being utterly groundless, I was able to
disprove; but the few that were true I endeavoured to excuse, and thus,
by their admission, credit was procured for their most unfounded
calumny. These petty transgressions, (for I cannot even now regard them
as sins,) industriously reported and artfully exaggerated, did me
lasting injury with all the most pious of our caste. The charitable
portion, indeed, were merely estranged from me; but the more bigoted
part began to regard me with aversion and horror.
"In one of our vacations, my father allowed me to visit a brother of
his, who lived in the country, about thirty miles from Benares. My uncle
had two sons, of nearly my own age, and several daughters. With the
former I rode, played chess, and engaged in such sports as are not
forbidden to my profession; but my female cousins I seldom saw, as they
rarely left their Zenana, into which I was not permitted to enter. I was
of an age to be desirous of becoming better acquainted with my female
cousins, especially after I learnt that they then had as guests, a lady
and her daughter, who had come to pass some weeks here during the
absence of her husband, then employed in some public mission to
Calcutta. But it was only now and then that I had been able to catch a
transient and distant view of these females, during the first week after
my arrival; and the little I saw, served but to increase my curiosity.
Chance, however, soon afforded me the means of gratifying it.
"An important festival in our calendar was now approaching, and
preparations were made to celebrate it in various modes, and, amongst
others, by a fight between a _royal_ tiger and an elephant. For several
days all was bustle and confusion in my uncle's family. Howdahs, newly
gilded and painted, were provided for the elephants--new caparisons for
the horses--new liveries for the attendants--cloth and silk, of the
richest dyes and hues, united with a profusion of gold and silver
ornaments, to dazzle the eye with their varied splendour. This was one
of those exhibitions, which those who were intended for the priesthood,
were prohibited from attending. I confess, when I witnessed these showy
and costly preparations, and pictured to myself the magnificent scene
for which they were intended--those formidable animals contending in
mortal conflict--the thousands of gaily dressed spectators, gazing in
breathless anxiety,--I repined at my lot, and regretted I had not been
born in a condition which, though of less dignity, would not have cut me
off from some of the most exquisite pleasures of life. At length the
important day arrived, and I found my mortification so acute, that I
determined to withdraw myself, as much as I could, from a scene that I
could not witness without pain. Among my acquirements at college, was a
knowledge of your language; and I had now begun to take the liveliest
interest in its beautiful fictions, which I greatly preferred to ours,
as being more true to nature, and as exhibiting women in characters at
once lovely, pure, and elevated. I was then reading "The Vicar of
Wakefield," and had reached the middle of that interesting tale, on the
morning of the festival, when my tranquillity was interrupted in the way
I have mentioned. Accordingly, taking my book and English dictionary, I
retired to a small summer-house at the foot of the garden, and
determined to remain there till the cavalcade had set out. It was some
time before I could fix my attention on what I read; but after a while,
the interest the book had previously excited returned, and I became at
length so engrossed by the incidents of the story, as to forget the
festival, the procession, the tiger, and the elephant, as much as if
they had never before entered my head.
"After some hours passed in this intellectual banquet, I waked from my
day dream, and I thought again of the spectacle with a feeling bordering
on indifference. I walked towards the house, where all appeared to be
still and silent as a desert. I entered it, and of the forty or fifty
menials belonging to it, not one was to be seen. Those who were not in
attendance on the family, had sought some respite from their ordinary
labours. The Zenana then caught my eye, and I felt irresistibly impelled
to enter it. I used great caution, however, looking around me in every
direction as I proceeded there. I found the same silence and desertion
as in the other parts of the mansion. I passed through a sitting-room
into a long gallery, with which the bed-chambers of the ladies
communicated. The doors were all open, and the whole interior of their
apartments exhibited so strange a medley of unseemly objects, and such
utter disorder, as materially to affect my opinion of female delicacy,
and to damp my desire of becoming acquainted with my cousins. I passed
on, with a feeling of disappointment bordering on disgust, when I came
to a room which went far to redeem the character of the sex in my
estimation. Here all was neatness and propriety: every thing was either
in place, or only enough out of it to indicate the recent occupation of
the room, or to show the taste or talent of the occupant; such as a book
left half open at one end of an ottoman, and a piece of embroidery at
the other. The flowers too, which decorated the room, showed by their
freshness that they had not long left their beds. I could not help
stopping to survey a scene which accorded so well with my previous
notions of female refinement. At the end of the gallery was a veranda,
facing the east, and surrounded by lattices. In this were a number of
flower-pots, arranged with the same air of neatness and taste as had
been conspicuous in the chamber. I entered it, for the purpose of
looking into the flower-garden, with which it communicated; and on
approaching the lattice, I saw, seated in an alcove not far from the
veranda, a face and form that struck me as being the most beautiful I
had ever beheld. I remained for some time riveted to the spot, but soon
found myself irresistibly impelled to get a nearer view of the lovely
object. With as light a step and as little noise as possible, I
descended into the garden from the veranda, and approaching the alcove
on the side where its foliage was thickest, I found that the beauty, of
which I had before thought so highly, did not appear less on a closer
survey. The vision on which I gazed in silent rapture, a maiden, who,
though she had apparently attained her full stature, did not seem to be
more than thirteen or fourteen years of age. Her eyes had the brightness
and fulness of the antelope's, but, owing to their long silken lashes,
were yet more expressive of softness than of spirit; and at this time
they evinced more than usual languor. She was in a rich undress, and was
apparently an invalid. Her long raven locks hung with careless grace,
partly behind, and partly over, a neck that might have served as a model
for the sculptor. She was looking wistfully on a bunch of flowers in her
hand, which I felt pleasure in recognising to be the same I had seen on
the piece of embroidery. I feared to advance, lest I should give
offence; but I felt also unable to retreat. I fancied I saw one of those
lovely and dignified females which the writers in your language describe
so well. But a sudden movement of the fair damsel to get up, bringing me
full in her view, she started back with alarm and surprise, and in a
moment afterwards her cheek, which had been before pale, almost to
European whiteness, was deeply suffused. I respectfully approached her,
and inquired if she was one of my cousins. She answered in the negative;
said she was on a visit to the family, to whom she was related: added
that she had not expected to see any one in the garden; but this was
said as if she meant rather to apologise for her undress, than to
reproach me for my intrusion. These remarks were uttered with a
propriety and sweetness that won upon me yet more than her beauty. I
then, in return, assured her that I had not supposed any of the family
had remained at home, when I strolled to this part of the mansion. I
begged she would not regard me with the formality of a stranger; and
insisted that, as she was the cousin of my relation, she was also mine.
To this ingenious argument she answered with so much good sense, and at
the same time, so much gentleness and artlessness, that I thought I
could have listened to her for ever. While I spoke, she continued to
move on. I entreated to know if she was satisfied with my apology;
repeated that I had not meant to intrude on her privacy. She mildly
replied that she was. I then asked permission to call her cousin. She
said she should not object, if it would gave me pleasure. It was, my
dear Atterley, her ineffable sweetness of disposition, and of manners so
entirely free from pride, coquetry, or affectation, in which this lovely
creature excelled all other women, yet more than in beauty and grace. I
then inquired when I should again see my lovely cousin. She replied, "I
walk in the great garden sometimes with my companions, when their
brothers are away; but the girls will not think it proper to walk when
you are there." Perceiving that I looked chagrined, she added: "It is
said, you know, that the light from mens' eyes is yet worse for womens'
faces than the light of the sun;" and she blushed as if she had said
something wrong. I stammered out I know not what extravagant compliment
in reply, and entreated that I might have an opportunity of seeing and
conversing with her sometimes: to which she promptly answered that she
should not object, if her mother approved it. I inquired why she had not
attended the exhibition; when I learnt from her, that, as she had been
slightly indisposed the day before, and her mother being unwilling she
should expose herself to the heat of the weather and the crowd, she had
been left under the care of her nurse; but that finding herself better,
she had permitted her attendants to walk over the grounds, while she
amused herself in embroidery; and that she had come into the garden to
get a fresh supply of the flowers she was working.
"She had by this time approached a small gate, which communicated with
the apartments on the ground-floor of the Zenana; when, turning to me,
she said, "You can return the way you came, but I must leave you here;"
and, making a slight bow, she sprung like a young fawn through the gate,
and was out of sight in a moment.
"You may wonder, my dear Atterley, that I should remember all these
minute circumstances, after the lapse of more than forty years; but
every incident of that day is as fresh in my memory as the occurrence of
yesterday. To this single green spot in my existence, my mind is never
tired of returning.
"I continued for some time in a sort of dreaming ecstasy; but as soon as
I collected my thoughts, I began to devise some scheme by which I could
again have the happiness of seeing and conversing with the lovely
Veenah. My brain had before that time teemed with ambitious projects of
distinguishing myself; sometimes as a priest--sometimes as a writer; and
occasionally I thought I would bend all my efforts to rouse my
countrymen to throw off the ignominious yoke of Great Britain. But this
short interview had changed the whole current of my thoughts. I had now
a new set of feelings, opinions, and wishes. My mind dwelt solely upon
the pleasures of domestic life--the surpassing bliss of loving and of
being beloved.
"When the cavalcade returned in the evening, its gaudy magnificence,
which I would not permit myself even to see in the morning, I now
regarded with cold indifference; nay, more, I congratulated myself on
having missed the exhibition, though a few hours before I had deemed
this privation one of the misfortunes of my life.
"The next day I went to the garden betimes; and as it communicated with
the shrubbery and grounds attached to the Zenana, and the males of the
family occasionally entered it when the ladies were not present, I
prevailed on the gardener to grant me admission, under the pretext of
gathering some uncommonly fine mangoes, which were then ripe. I went to
the several spots where I had first seen Veenah--where I had conversed
with her--where I had parted from her; and they each had some secret and
indescribable charm for me. I fear, Atterley, I fatigue you. The
feelings of which I speak, are fully known only to the natives of warm
climates, and to those but once in their lives."
I assured him that he was mistaken; that the emotions he described, were
the same in all countries, and at all times, and begged him to proceed.
"I repeated my visit," he continued, "several times the same day, under
any pretext I could invent--to gather an orange, or other fruit--to
pluck a rose--to frighten away mischievous birds--to catch the
unobstructed breeze, or sit in a cooler shade; in which artifices I
played a part that had before been foreign to my nature. I was
disappointed, however, in my wishes. I thought, indeed, I once saw some
one in the veranda, looking through the lattice into the garden, but the
figure soon disappeared.
"On the following day I had the satisfaction to hear my young companions
propose to go on a fishing party, an amusement in which, by the rules of
my caste, I was not allowed to partake. They had scarcely left the house
before I flew to the garden with a book in my hand, and passing as
before to the shrubbery, I buried myself in a close thicket at one end
of it. I remained there from the morning till late in the afternoon,
without refreshment of any kind; and such was the intensity of my
emotion, that I did not feel the want of it. At length, a little before
sunset, I saw Veenah and her three cousins enter the garden. I soon
contrived to show myself, with my book in my hand. I approached, bowed
to them all, but to Veenah last; and although my cousins showed surprise
at seeing me in their garden, at this time, they did not seem
displeased. I felt very desirous, I could not tell why, to conceal my
feelings from every person except her who was the object of them. I
forced a conversation with my two eldest cousins, who were modest
pleasing girls, and then with an embarrassed air addressed a few words
to Veenah and her companion, the youngest of my cousins. Occasionally I
would stray off from them as if I was about to leave them, and then
suddenly return. In one of these movements, I perceived that Veenah and
her associate had separated from the others, and strolled to a distant
part of the garden. I soon joined them as if it were by accident,
entered into conversation with them alternately, and of course only one
half of that which I either heard or said proceeded from the heart or
found its way thither. I know not if Veenah expected to see me, but she
was dressed with unusual care. We had not been conversing many minutes
before the eldest sister beckoning to them, they bid me good night and
returned to the house.
"To the same sort of management I had recourse every day, and seldom
failed to see and converse with Veenah, sometimes in company with all
her cousins, but oftener with Fatima, the youngest. By dividing my
attentions among them all, I succeeded for a while in concealing from
them the object of my preference; but the sex are too sharp-sighted to
be long deceived in these matters. As soon as I perceived that my secret
was discovered, I endeavoured to make a friend of Fatima, in which I was
successful. After this our meetings were more frequent, and what was of
greater importance, they were uninterrupted. Fatima, who was one of the
most generous and amiable girls in the world, would often take Veenah
out to walk, when her sisters were otherwise engaged; at which times she
was perpetually contriving, under some little pretext, to leave us
alone. We were not long in understanding each other; and when I urged
our early marriage, she ingenuously replied, that I had her consent
whenever I had her father's, and that she hoped I could obtain that; but
added, (and she trembled while she spoke) she did not know his views
respecting her. In the first raptures of requited affection, what lover
thinks of difficulties? In obtaining Veenah's heart I believed that all
mine were at an end, and my time was passed in one dream of unmixed
delight. Oh! what happiness I enjoyed in these interviews--in seeing
Veenah--in gazing on her lovely features--in listening to her
sentiments, that were sometimes gay and thoughtless, sometimes serious
and melancholy, but always tender and affectionate,--and now and then,
when not perceived, in venturing to take her hand. These fleeting joys
are ever recurring to my imagination, to show me what my lot might have
been, and to contrast it with its sad reverse!
"The time now approached for Veenah and her mother to return to Benares.
On the evening before they set out, Fatima contrived for us a longer
interview than usual. It was as melancholy as it was tender. But in the
midst of my grief, at the prospect of our separation, I recollected that
we were soon to meet again in the city; while Veenah's tears, for she
did not attempt to disguise or suppress her feelings, seemed already to
forebode that our happiness was here to terminate.
"When about to part, we exchanged amaranths I took her hand to bid her
adieu, and, without seeming to intend it, our lips met, and the first
kiss of love was moistened with a tear. Pardon me, Atterley, nature will
have her way."--And here the venerable man wept aloud.
I availed myself of this interruption to the narrative, to propose to my
venerable friend to take some refreshment. Having partaken of a frugal
repast, and invigorated ourselves, each with about four hours sleep, the
Brahmin thus resumed his story.
CHAPTER XVII.
_The Brahmin's story continued--The voyage concluded--Atterley and the
Brahmin separate--Atterley arrives in New--York._
"I was not slow to follow Veenah to the city, and as had been agreed
upon, had to ask the consent of her father to our union, as soon as I
had obtained the approbation of my own. Here I met with a difficulty
which I had not expected. My partial father had formed very high hopes
of my future advancement, and thought that an early marriage, though not
incompatible with my profession, or a successful discharge of its
duties, would put an end to my ambition, or at all events, lessen my
exertions. He first urged me to postpone my wishes, till I had completed
my college course, and had by travelling seen something of the world.
But finding me immoveable on this point, he then suggested that I might
meet with serious obstacles from Veenah's father, whom he represented as
remarkable both for his avarice and his bigotry; that consequently he
was likely to dispose of his daughter to the son-in-law who could pay
most liberally for her; and that the imputations which had been cast on
my religious creed, would reach his ears, if they had not already done
so, and be sure to prejudice him against me.
"These last considerations prevailed on me to defer my application to
Shunah Shoo, until the suspicions regarding my faith had either died
away, or been falsified by my scrupulous observance of all religious
duties. My excellent mother, who at first had entered into my feelings
and seconded my views, readily acquiesced in the good sense of my
father's advice.
"My next object was to communicate this to Veenah. I accordingly sat
down, and wrote a full account of all that had occurred, and folding up
the packet, hurried to the opposite quarter of the town where Shunah
Shoo lived. It was then in the dusk of the evening, and I was fearful it
was too late for me to be recognised; but after I had taken two or three
turns in the street, I saw the white amaranth I had given Veenah,
suspended by a thread from the lattice of an upper window. I immediately
held up the packet, and soon afterwards a cord was let down from the
same lattice to the ground. To this I hastily fastened the paper, and
passed on to avoid observation. The next evening you may be sure I was
at the same spot. The little amaranth again announced that I was
recognised; and as soon as we were satisfied that no one was observing
us, the cord let down one letter and took up another. Veenah's pen had
given an expression to her feelings, that her tongue had never ventured
to do before. She moreover commended my course--besought me to be
prudent--and above all, to do nothing to offend her father.
"The first letter which a lover receives from his mistress, is a new era
in his life. Again and again I kissed the precious paper, and almost
wore it out in my bosom. We afterwards improved in this mode of
intercourse, and, by various preconcerted signals, were able to carry on
our correspondence altogether in the night. Not a day passed that we did
not exchange letters, which, though they contained few facts, and always
expressed the same sentiments, still repeated what we were never tired
of hearing. To the moment at which I was to receive a letter from
Veenah, my thoughts were continually and anxiously turned: and it now
seems to me as if our passion was inflamed yet more by this sort of
intercourse, than by our personal interviews. I am convinced it wrought
more powerfully upon our imaginations. In the mean time I continued my
daily attendance at college, though my studies were utterly neglected,
one single object absorbing all my thoughts and feelings.
"I know not whether the evident change in my habits induced my old
enemy, Balty Mahu, to observe my motions. But so it was, that one
moonlight night I thought I was watched by some person; and on the
following night an individual of the same figure, and whom I now
suspected to be Balty Mahu, came suddenly from a cross street, and
passed near me. A few evenings afterwards, instead of a letter, I
received a scrap of paper from Veenah, on which was written the
following words:--
"We are discovered. Balty Mahu, who is my relative and your enemy, has
been here. He has persuaded my father that you are an unbeliever. I am
denied pen and ink. If you cannot convince my father of his error, O!
pity, and try to forget, your unhappy VEENAH."
"This writing was indistinctly traced with a burnt stick, on a blank
leaf torn out of a book. In the first moment of indignation, I felt
disposed to seek Balty Mahu, the great enemy of my life, and wreak my
vengeance on him for all his persecutions; but the conviction that such
a course would extinguish the last spark of hope, restrained me. I then
determined to see Shunah Shoo, and endeavour to remove his prejudices. I
accordingly called on him at his own house: but after he had heard my
vindication, (to which he evidently gave no credit,) he coolly told me
that he meant to dispose of his daughter in another way. The words fell
like ice upon my heart. I expostulated; and, offensive as was his
haughty air, even had recourse to entreaty. But he, in a yet harsher
manner, told me that he must be permitted to manage his own affairs in
his own way; and added, that he did not wish to be longer prevented from
attending to them. I was compelled to retire, with my heart almost as
full of hatred for the father, as of love for the child.
"On the same night, I again betook myself to the street in which Shunah
Shoo lived, but not by the ordinary route. I cautiously approached his
house. All was stillness and quiet: no light appeared to be burning in
Veenah's room, nor indeed in any other part of the house. I hence
concluded that they had now deprived her of light, as well as of pen and
ink. I continued in the street until near morning, straining my eyes and
ears in the hope of catching something that would give me intelligence
concerning her. Often, in the course of that painful suspense, did I
fancy I heard a noise at the lattice in Veenah's apartment, or in some
other part of the mansion; and once I persuaded myself I saw a light:
but these illusions served only to aggravate my disappointment. The next
morning, before I had left my room, my father informed me that Shunah
Shoo, with his family, had left Benares early the preceding evening; but
whither they had gone, he had not learnt.
"I rose, and immediately set about discovering their course; but all I
could learn was, that they had embarked in one of the passage-boats
which ply on the Ganges, and that Shunah had taken his palanquins and
many of his servants with him: and, as Balty Mahu had suddenly absented
himself from college at the same time, I did not doubt that he had aided
in executing the plan which he had also probably formed. My father, who
saw what I suffered, spared no pains to discover the place of their
retreat; but our endeavours were all ineffectual.
"At the end of three months, in which time my anxiety increased rather
than diminished, the mystery was dispelled. It was now trumpeted through
the city, that Shunah Shoo had returned to Benares in great pomp,
accompanied by a wealthy Omrah of a neighbouring district, to whom he
had given, or rather sold, his daughter. The news came upon me like a
clap of thunder. My previous state of suspense was happiness compared
with what I now felt, when I knew she was in the arms of another. In the
first transports of my grief and rage, I could have freely put to death
the father, daughter, husband, and myself. I was particularly desirous
of seeing Veenah, and venting on her the bitterest reproaches. Unjust
that I was! Her sufferings were not inferior to mine; but she had not,
like me, the privilege of making them known. I soon found that
Hircarrahs, in the pay of Balty Mahu, watched all my motions; and if I
had attempted any scheme of vengeance, its execution would have been
impracticable.
"After my first transports had subsided into deep and settled grief, my
love and tenderness for Veenah returned in full force. I endeavoured to
get a sight of her, and thought I should be comparatively happy if I
could converse with her, as formerly, though she was the wife of
another. After a short time, my uncle's family came to Benares, on a
visit to my father and to Shunah Shoo. By the aid of my indulgent
mother, who was seriously alarmed for what she saw I suffered, I was
able to see Fatima, and to make her the bearer of a letter to Veenah,
complaining of her breach of faith, and soliciting an interview. She
verbally replied to it through Fatima; and stated, in her justification,
that she was hurried from Benares to a town on the river, whence she was
rapidly transported to the castle of Omrah, who had not long before lost
his wife, and who was more than four times her age. That notwithstanding
the notions of filial obedience in which she had been brought up, and
the severity with which her father had ever exercised his authority, she
had resisted his commands on this occasion, and would have preferred
death to marrying the Omrah--nay, would have inflicted it on herself;
but that finding her unyielding after all their exertions, they had
effected their purpose by a deception which they had practised on her,
wherein it seemed that I had unconsciously concurred; for, by means of
an intercepted letter of mine to Fatima, in which, hopeless of learning
the place of Veenah's retreat, I had expressed an intention of visiting
England; and, by the farther aid of some dexterous forgeries, calculated
to impose on more experienced minds than hers, they succeeded in
persuading her that I had actually set out for Europe, with an intention
of never returning. That entertaining no doubt of this intelligence
--hopeless of ever seeing me again, and indifferent to every
thing besides, she had been led an unresisting victim to the altar.
"Such was the vindication which she considered it just to make me. But
all the entreaties of Fatima--all my letters, impassioned as they were,
appealing at once to her generosity, humanity, and love,--could not
prevail on her to grant me an interview.
"'Tell him,' said she, 'that heaven has forbid it, and to its decrees we
are bound to submit. I am now the wife of another, and it is our duty to
forget all that is past. But if this be possible, my heart tells me it
can be only by our never meeting!'
"In saying this, she wept bitterly; but at the same time exacted a
promise from Fatima, that she would never mention the subject to her
again. Finding her thus inexorable, I fell into a settled melancholy,
and my health was visibly declining. The Europeans consider the natives
of Hindostan to be feeble and effeminate; but the soul, that which
distinguishes man from brutes, acts with an intensity and constancy of
purpose of which they can furnish no examples.
"How long I could have withstood the corrosive effects of my hopeless
passion, irritated as it was by my being in the vicinity of its
object--by hearing perpetually of her beauty, and sometimes catching a
glimpse of it,--I know not; but the Omrah, after a few months spent with
his father-in-law, returned with his bride to his castle in the country.
Yielding now to the wishes of my anxious parents, I consented to travel.
I was at first benefited by the exercise and change of scene; but after
a while, my melancholy returned, and my health grew worse. Though
indifferent to life itself, and all that it now promised, I exerted
myself for the sake of my parents, especially of my mother, who suffered
so acutely on my account: but I carried a barbed arrow in my heart, and
the greater the efforts to extract it, the more they rankled the wound.
"After spending more than a year in travelling, first through the
mountainous district of our country, and then along the coast, and
finding no change for the better, I determined to try the effect of a
sea voyage. I accordingly embarked at Calcutta, in a coasting vessel
that was bound to Madras. At this time I had wasted away to a mere
skeleton, and no one who saw me, believed I could live a month. Such,
indeed, were my own impressions. In the letter which I wrote to my
parents, I endeavoured to prepare them for the worst. When, after a long
voyage, we reached Madras, my health was evidently improved; but a piece
of intelligence I here received, had perhaps a still greater effect I
learnt that Balty Mahu, who had kept himself concealed from me before I
left Benares, had lately visited Madras, on a travelling tour. This news
operated on me like a charm. The idea of avenging myself on the author
of all my calamities, infused new life into my exhausted frame, and from
the moment that I determined to pursue him, I felt like another man.
"You must not, however, suppose that I even then entertained the purpose
of taking away my enemy's life. No, I could not bring my mind exactly to
that; but I had a vague, undefined hope, that if we met, some new
provocation on his part would afford me just occasion for avenging
myself on all; so ingenious, my dear friend, is the sophistry of
the passions.
"I lost no time in setting out on the track of Balty Mahu, and, ere many
days, overtook him at a small town which he had left just as I entered
it, but not before he had received, through his servant, notice of my
arrival. My wary enemy, who had little expected to see me here, and who
had travelled as much to keep out of my way as to see the country,
conjectured my purpose, from the consciousness of what he had done to
provoke it. Thus, while we both appeared to others to be merely making a
tour of Hindostan, it was soon known to both of us, that my chief
purpose was to pursue him, and his to elude my pursuit. In the ardour,
as well as exercise of the chase, my health mended rapidly, but I was no
nearer the object of my pursuit; for, although I travelled somewhat
faster than Bally Mahu, as he wished to avoid the appearance of flying
from me, he sometimes contrived to put me on a wrong track. In this way
I was once led to travel towards the coast, while he proceeded in an
opposite direction to Benares, where he considered he would be most safe
from my vengeance, and where the restraints both of religion and law
would be more likely to operate on me than in a foreign district.
"My usual practice, on arriving at any town, was to endeavour to learn
if Balty Mahu had passed through it; if so, when and in what direction;
and to get the information, if possible, without seeming to seek it. On
one of these occasions, I heard from a party of merchants that the Omrah
Addaway, whose health had been declining for some time, had gone to
Benares, for the benefit of medical advice; that his disease, however,
had become more serious; and that it was generally thought it would soon
occasion his death. What a train of new thoughts, hopes, and desires,
did this intelligence excite in me! At first, influenced by the custom
of my country, which prohibits widows from marrying again, I thought
only of the pleasure of Veenah's society, which I should, of course, be
permitted to enjoy, when duty no longer forbade it; but my imagination
kindling in its course, I soon pictured her to myself as my wife. The
usages which stood in the way of our union, appeared to me barbarous and
absurd, and I thought that, banishment from my country, with Veenah,
would be infinitely better than any other condition of life without her.
These new-born visions so entirely absorbed me, that Balty Mahu was
entirely forgotten, or remembered only as we think of an insect which
had stung us an hour before. I travelled on at a yet more rapid rate
than I had done; and, without stopping on the road to make inquiries, I
heard enough to satisfy me that the Omrah could not long survive. When
within something more than ten leagues of Benares, I called, about
twilight, at a small inn, and meant, after refreshing myself with a few
hours' rest, to proceed on my journey. Two travellers were there, who
had just left Benares, and had taken up their quarters for the night.
They soon fell into conversation about the place they had left, when the
mention of Shunah Shoo's name excited my attention.
"'What a shame,' said one, 'that he should have sacrificed that
beautiful young creature to the rich old Omrah, when she had so good an
offer as Gurameer, the Brahmin Gafawad's only son.'
"'And is it not strange,' said the other, 'that a woman so young and
beautiful, should be content to follow to the grave one who is old
enough to be her grandfather, and whom she once loathed? But I suppose
that that old miser, Shunah Shoo, is at the bottom of it; and, as he
deprived her of the man she loved, he has compelled her to sacrifice
herself to the one she hates, that he may have her jewels and wealth.'
"'For that matter,' said the first, 'though Shunah Shoo is bad enough
for any thing where money is in the way, yet it is said that Veenah goes
to the funeral pile of her own accord. She has never seemed to set any
value on life since her marriage; and after she heard of Gurameer's
death, she has never been seen to smile. Poor young man!'--And here they
launched out into a strain of panegyric, which is often bestowed on the
dead; but I heeded only the first part of their discourse. Had it not
been nearly dark, they must have discovered the force of the feelings
which then agitated me. I trembled from head to foot, and, though
burning with impatience to obtain from them farther particulars, it was
some moments before I could trust myself to speak. At length I asked
them when the Suttee would take place; and was answered by one of them,
that it would certainly be performed on the following day; and that he
had seen the funeral pile himself. Without any farther delay, I set out
immediately for the city, and reached it in as short a time as a jaded
horse could carry me.
"I came in sight of Benares the next morning, from a hill which
overlooks it from the east. The sun was just rising, and pouring a flood
of light ever the city, the river, and the surrounding country. Never
was contrast greater than between my present feelings, and those which
the same spectacle had formerly excited. I now sickened at the prospect,
which once would have set my heart bounding with joy. I pressed on in
desperate haste, scarcely, however, knowing what I did, being at once
overpowered with fatigue, loss of sleep, and harassing emotions. I still
had to travel a circuitous course of some two or three miles; and when I
reached the city, its crowded population was already in motion: a great
multitude of women, of the lower order, with alarm and expectation
strongly depicted in their faces, were to be seen mingling in the crowd,
and pressing on in the same direction. I would have proceeded
immediately to my father's house, but for the fear of being too late.
Alighting, therefore, from my horse, I gave him in charge to my servant,
whom I sent to inform my parents of my arrival, and to request my father
to meet me at the Suttee. I then joined the mixed multitude, which now
thronged the streets. Occupied, as my thoughts were, with the scene I
was about to witness, and with fears for its issue, they were often
interrupted with remarks made in the crowd, in which Veenah's name or
mine were mentioned--some lamenting her cruel fate, others pitying mine;
but all condemning and execrating Shunah Shoo. Fortunately I was not
recognised by any whom I saw. When we reached the spot selected for the
sacrifice, the crowd that had there assembled, was not so great as to
prevent our getting near the funeral pile; but the numbers continued to
augment, until nothing could be seen from the slight eminence on which I
stood, but one dense mass of heads, all looking one way, and expressing
the intense interest they felt. At length a murmur, like that of distant
thunder, ran through the crowd: a passage was, with some difficulty,
effected through the multitude by the officers in attendance, and the
wretched Veenah made her appearance, supported by her own father on one
side, and an uncle on the other--pale enough to be taken for an
European--emaciated indeed, but still retaining the same exquisite beauty
of features and symmetry of form. She moved with the air of one who was
utterly indifferent to the concerns of this world, and to the awful fate
which awaited her. She turned her head on hearing the sound of my voice,
and, seeing me, shrieked out, "He lives! he lives!" but immediately
afterwards fainted in the arms of her supporters: at the same moment I
was forcibly held back by some of the attendants, and a number of the
bystanders rushed in between us, and intercepted my view. I heard my
name now repeated in every direction by the multitude--some calling out
to the priests to desist, and others to proceed. I struggled to
extricate myself, and passion lent me momentary strength; but it was
insufficient. After a short interval, I distinctly heard Veenah
imploring them to spare her. I called to the Brahmins who held her, to
leave her to herself. I endeavoured to rouse the multitude; but they
took the precaution to drown our voices, by the musical instruments
which are used on these occasions. Four of these monsters I saw
profaning the name of religion, by forcibly placing their victim on the
pile, under the show of assisting her to mount it; and there held her
down, beside the dead body of her husband, until, by cords provided for
the purpose, she was prevented from rising. I besought--I threatened--I
raved;--but all thoughts and minds were engrossed by the premature fate
of one so young and beautiful, and I was unheeded.
"Among the relatives who pressed around the funeral pile, I saw Balty
Mahu; and indignation for a moment got the better of grief. The pile was
now lighted, and in a moment all was hidden in smoke. I sickened at the
sight, and was obliged to turn away. Even then I heard, or thought I
heard, the dying shrieks of the victim, amid the groans and cries, and
the thousand shouts that rent the air! The pile and its contents being
now enveloped in flame, my keepers set me free, when, by an impulse of
frenzy, I rushed' to the pile, to make a last vain effort to rescue
Veenah, or to share her fate; but was stopped by some of the bystanders,
who called my act a profanation.
"'Yes,' said Balty Mahu, 'he has always been a scoffer of our religion.'
As soon as these words reached my ears, with the quickness of thought I
snatched a cimeter from the hands of one of the guards, and plunged it
in his breast. Of all that happened afterwards, my recollection is very
confused. I was rudely seized, and hurried to prison. My father was
coming to meet me, when he was informed of the fatal deed. I remember
that my coolness, or rather stupor, was in strong contrast with the
violence of his emotion. He accompanied me to prison, and continued with
me that night.
"It is not easy to take the life of one of my caste in India; and, by
dint of the exertions of my friends, in spite of the influence of Shunah
Shoo, and the family of the Omrah, I was pardoned, on condition of doing
penance, which was, that I should never live in a country in which the
religion of Brahmin prevailed, and should not again look at, or converse
with, any woman for two minutes together. Ere this took place, my
excellent mother, unable to withstand the shocks she had received from
my supposed death, my misfortunes, and my crime, died a martyr to
maternal affection. Wishing to conform to the sentence, and to be as
near my father as I could, I removed to the kingdom of Ava, where, you
know, they are followers of Buddha. Here I continued as long as my
father lived, which was about six years. In this period, time had so
alleviated my grief, that I began to take pleasure in the cultivation of
science, which constituted my chief employment.
"After my father's death, I indulged a curiosity I had felt in my youth,
of seeing foreign countries; and I visited China, Japan, and England.
During my residence in Asia, I had discovered lunarium ore in the
mountain near Mogaun; and this circumstance, many years afterwards, when
I determined to rest from my labours, induced me to settle in that
mountain, as I have before stated. I have occasionally used the metal to
counterbalance the gravity of a small car, by which I have profited, by
a favourable wind, to indulge the melancholy satisfaction of looking
down on the tombs of my parents, and of the ill-fated Veenah:
approaching the earth near enough, in the night, to see the sacred
spots, but not enough to violate the religious injunctions of my caste;
to avoid which, however, it was sometimes necessary for me to go across
Hindostan to Arabia or Persia, and there wait for a change of wind
before I could return: and it was these excursions which suggested to
the superstitious Burmans that my form had undergone a temporary
transformation. When such have been the woes of my life, you can no
longer think it strange, Atterley, that I delayed their painful recital;
or that, after having endured so much, all common dangers and
misfortunes should appear to me insignificant."
       *       *       *       *       *
The venerable Brahmin here concluded his narrative, and we both remained
thoughtful and silent for some time; he, apparently absorbed in the
recollections of his eventful life; and I, partly in the reflections
awakened by his story, and partly in the intense interest of revisiting
my native earth, and beholding once more all who were dear to me.
Already the extended map beneath us was assuming a distinct and varied
appearance; and the Brahmin, having applied his eye to the telescope,
and made a brief calculation of our progress, considered that
twenty-four hours more, if no accident interrupted us, would end our
voyage; part of which interval I passed in making notes in my journal,
and in contemplating the different sections of our many-peopled globe,
as they presented themselves successively to the eye. It was my wish to
land on the American continent, and, if possible, in the United States.
But the Brahmin put an end to that hope, by reminding me that we should
be attracted towards the Equator, and that we had to choose between
Asia, Africa, and South America; and that our only course would be, to
check the progress of our car over the country of greatest extent,
through which the equinoctial circle might pass. Saying which, he
relapsed into his melancholy silence, and I betook myself once more to
the telescope. With a bosom throbbing with emotion, I saw that we were
descending towards the American continent. When we were about ten or
twelve miles from the earth, the Brahmin arrested the progress of the
car, and we hovered over the broad Atlantic. Looking down on the ocean,
the first object which presented itself to my eye, was a small
one-masted shallop, which was buffeting the waves in a south-westerly
direction. I presumed it was a New England trader, on a voyage to some
part of the Republic of Colombia: and, by way of diverting my friend
from his melancholy reverie, I told him some of the many stories which
are current respecting the enterprise and ingenuity of this portion of
my countrymen, and above all, their adroitness at a bargain.
"Methinks," says the Brahmin, "you are describing a native of Canton or
Pekin. But," added he, after a short pause, "though to a superficial
observer man appears to put on very different characters, to a
philosopher he is every where the same--for he is every where moulded by
the circumstances in which he is placed. Thus; let him be in a situation
that is propitious to commerce, and the habits of traffic produce in him
shrewdness and address. Trade is carried on chiefly in towns, because it
is there carried on most advantageously. This situation gives the trader
a more intimate knowledge of his species--a more ready insight into
character, and of the modes of operating on it. His chief purpose is to
buy as cheap, and to sell as dear, as he can; and he is often able to
heighten the recommendations or soften the defects of some of the
articles in which he deals, without danger of immediate detection; or,
in other words, his representations have some influence with his
customers. He avails himself of this circumstance, and thus acquires the
habit of lying; but, as he is studious to conceal it, he becomes wary,
ingenious, and cunning. It is thus that the Phenicians, the
Carthagenians, the Dutch, the Chinese, the New-Englanders, and the
modern Greeks, have always been regarded as inclined to petty frauds by
their less commercial neighbours." I mentioned the English nation.
"If the English," said he, interrupting me, "who are the most commercial
people of modern times, have not acquired the same character, it is
because they are as distinguished for other things as for traffic: they
are not merely a commercial people--they are also agricultural, warlike,
and literary; and thus the natural tendencies of commerce are mutually
counteracted."
We afterwards descended slowly; the prospect beneath us becoming more
beautiful than my humble pen can hope to describe, or will even attempt
to portray. In a short time after, we were in sight of Venezuela. We met
with the trade-winds, and were carried by them forty or fifty miles
inland, where, with some difficulty, and even danger, we landed. The
Brahmin and myself remained together two days, and parted--he to explore
the Andes, to obtain additional light on the subject of his hypothesis,
and I, on the wings of impatience, to visit once more my long-deserted
family and friends. But before our separation, I assisted my friend in
concealing our aerial vessel, and received a promise from him to visit,
and perhaps spend with me the evening of his life. Of my journey home,
little remains to be said. From the citizens of Colombia, I experienced
kindness and attention, and means of conveyance to Caraccas; where,
embarking on board the brig Juno, captain Withers, I once more set foot
in New York, on the 18th of August, 1826, after an absence of four
years, resolved, for the rest of my life, to travel only in books, and
persuaded, from experience, that the satisfaction which the wanderer
gains from actually beholding the wonders and curiosities of distant
climes, is dearly bought by the sacrifice of all the comforts and
delights of home.
       *       *       *       *       *
Anonymous Review of _A Voyage to the Moon_
Reprinted from the American Quarterly Review No. 5 (March 1828), 61-88.
ART. III.--_A Voyage to the Moon: with some account of the Manners
and Customs, Science and Philosophy, of the People of Morosofia and
other Lunarians_: By JOSEPH ATTERLEY. New-York: Elam Bliss, 1827.
12mo. pp. 264.
It is somewhat remarkable, that perhaps the _only_ "Voyages to
the Moon," which have been published in the English tongue, should
have been the productions of English bishops:--the first forming a
tract, re-published in the Harleian Miscellany, and said to have been
written by Dr. Francis Goodwin, Bishop of Landaff, (who died in 1633,)
and entitled "_The Man in the Moon, or the discourse of a voyage
thither_, by Domingo Gonsales,"--and the second written in 1638, by
Dr. John Wilkins, Bishop of Chester, under the title of "_The
Discovery of a New World, or a Discourse tending to prove, that 'tis
probable there may be another habitable world in the Moon, with a
discourse concerning the possibility of a passage thither."_ These
two works differ in several essential particulars:--in Dr. Goodwin's,
we have men of enormous stature and prodigious longevity, with a
flying chariot, and some other slight points of resemblance to the
Travels of Gulliver:--whilst Bishop Wilkins's is intended honestly and
scientifically to prove, "that it is possible for some of our
posterity to find out a conveyance to this other world; and, if there
be inhabitants there, (which the Bishop, satisfactorily to himself,
settles,) to have commerce with them!" From the first of these, Swift
has derived many hints in his voyage to Laputa, and improved them into
those humorous and instructive allusions, which have caused the
reputation of the author of the _"Travels of Gulliver"_ to be
extended to every portion of the civilized globe. Since the appearance
of this celebrated satire, no one sufficiently comprehensive to lash
the follies of the age--the _quicquid agunt homines_--has made
its appearance: we have had numerous ephemeral productions, inflicting
severe castigations upon particular vices or absurdities; but the
visionary conceits of the many, constantly promulgated in the
progressive advancement of human knowledge, although legitimate
objects of censure, have not, since the time of Swift, been embodied
into one publication.
The evident aim of the author of the Satirical Romance before us, is
to fulfil for the present age, what _Swift_ so successfully
accomplished for that which has passed by:--to attack, by the weapons
of ridicule, those votaries of knowledge, who may have sought to avail
themselves of the universal love of novelty amongst mankind, to acquire
celebrity; or who may have been misled by their own ill-regulated
imaginations, to obtrude upon the world their crude and imperfect
theories and systems, to the manifest retardation of knowledge:--an
effect, too, liable to be induced in a direct ratio with the degree
of talent and ingenuity by which their views may have been supported.
Several of these may always be more successfully attacked by ridicule
than by reason; inasmuch as they are, in this way, more likely to become
the subjects of popular animadversion; and many, who could withstand
the serious arguments of their fraternity, cannot placidly endure their
ridicule. Satire has, indeed, often done more service to the cause of
religion and morality than a sermon, since the remedy is agreeable,
whilst it at the same time communicates indignation or fear:--
    "Of all the ways that wisest men could find,
    To mend the age and mortify mankind,
    Satire, well writ, has most successful prov'd.
    And cures, because the remedy is lov'd."
To produce, however, the full effect, satire must possess a certain
degree of impartiality, and be levelled in all instances at the vices
or follies, and not at the man. The first sketch of Gulliver's Travels
occurs in the proposed Travels of Martinus Scriblerus, devised in that
pleasing society where most of Swift's miscellanies were planned. Had
the work, however, been executed under the same auspices, it would
probably, as Sir Walter Scott has suggested,[1] "have been occupied by
that personal satire, upon obscure and unworthy contemporaries, to
which Pope was but too much addicted. But when the Dean mused in
solitude over the execution of his plan, it assumed at once a more
grand and a darker complexion. The spirit of indignant hatred and
contempt with which he regarded the mass of humanity; his quiet and
powerful perception of their failings, errors, and crimes; his zeal
for liberty and freedom of thought, tended at once to generalize,
while it embittered, his satire, and to change traits of personal
severity for that deep shade of censure which Gulliver's Travels throw
upon mankind universally." Most of the sentiments which impressed
Swift, seem also to have been felt by the unknown author of the work
before us: it is not, however, free from personal allusions; but they
are all conveyed in so good natured a manner, as to satisfy the reader
that the author has been solicitous to animadvert only on the vices of
the individual; and in no part of the work is there the slightest
evidence of prejudice or venom.
The pseudo _Joseph Atterley_, the hero of the narrative, was born
in Huntingdon, Long-Island, on the 11th of May, 1786. He was the son
of a seafaring individual, who, by means of the portion he received by
his wife, together with his own earnings, was enabled to quit that
laborious occupation, and to enter into trade; and, after the death of
his father-in-law, by whose will he received a handsome accession to
his property, he sought, in the city of New-York, a theatre better
adapted to his enlarged capital. "He here engaged in foreign trade,
and partaking of the prosperity which then attended American commerce,
gradually extended his business, and finally embarked in the then new
branch of traffic to the East Indies and China; he was now generally
respected both for his wealth and fair dealing; was several years a
director in one of the insurance offices; was president of the society
for relieving the widows and orphans of distressed seamen; and, it is
said, might have been chosen alderman, if he had not refused, on the
ground that he did not think himself qualified."
Our hero was, at an early age, put to a grammar school of good repute,
in his native village, and, at seventeen, was sent to Princeton, to
prepare himself for some profession; during his third year at that
place, in one of his excursions to Philadelphia, he became enamoured
"with one of those faces and forms, which, in a youth of twenty, to
see, admire, and love, is one and the same thing;" and was united to
the object of his affections, on the anniversary of his twenty-first
year. This event gave him a distaste for serious study; and, long
before this, he had felt a sentiment, bordering on contempt, for
mercantile pursuits; he therefore prevailed upon his father to
purchase him a neat country seat in the vicinity of Huntingdon. Here,
seventeen happy years glided away swiftly and imperceptibly, when
death, by depriving him of the partner of his felicity, prostrated all
his hopes and enjoyments. For the purpose of seeking for that relief
to the feelings, which variety can best afford, he now determined to
make a voyage; and, as one of his father's vessels was about to sail
for Canton, embarked on board of her, and left Sandyhook on the 5th
day of June, 1822. From this period, until the 24th of October, their
voyage was comparatively agreeable; but when off the mouths of the
Ganges, one of those hurricanes, well known to the experienced
navigators of the eastern seas, struck the ship, and rendered her so
leaky, that the captain considered it advisable to make for the
nearest port; the leak, however, increasing rapidly, and finding
themselves off a coast, which the captain, by his charts, pronounced
to be a part of the Burman empire, and in the neighbourhood of Mergui,
on the Martaban coast, they hastily threw their clothes, papers, and
eight casks of silver, into the long-boat; and, before they were fifty
yards from the ship, had the melancholy satisfaction to see her go
  "It was a little after mid-day when we reached the town, which is
  perched on a high bluff, overlooking the coasts, and contains about a
  thousand houses, built of bamboo, and covered with palm leaves. Our
  dress, appearance, language, and the manner of our arrival, excited
  great surprise among the natives, and the liveliest curiosity; but
  with these sentiments some evidently mingled no very friendly
  feelings. The Burmese were then on the eve of a rupture with the East
  India Company, a fact which we had not before known; and mistaking us
  for English, they supposed, or affected to suppose, that we belonged
  to a fleet which was about to invade them, and that our ship had been
  sunk before their eyes, by the tutelar divinity of the country. We
  were immediately carried before their governor, or chief magistrate,
  who ordered our baggage to be searched, and finding that it consisted
  principally of silver, he had no doubt of our hostile intentions. He
  therefore sent all of us, twenty-two in number, to prison, separating,
  however, each one from the rest. My companions were released the
  following spring, as I have since learnt, by the invading army of
  Great Britain; but it was my ill fortune (if, indeed, after what has
  since happened, I can so regard it) to be taken for an officer of high
  rank, and to be sent, the third day afterwards, far into the interior,
  that I might be more safely kept, and either used as a hostage or
  offered for ransom, as circumstances should render advantageous."
Our hero was transported very rapidly in a palanquin, for thirteen
successive days, when he reached Mozaun, a small village delightfully
situated in the mountainous district between the Irawaddi and Saloon
rivers, where he was placed under the care of an inferior magistrate,
who there exercised the chief authority. By submissive and respectful
behaviour, he succeeded in ingratiating himself so completely with his
keeper, that he was regarded more as one of his family, than as a
prisoner; and was allowed every indulgence, consistently with his safe
custody. It had been one of his favourite recreations, to ascend a
part of the western ridge of mountains, which rose in a cone, about a
mile and a half from the village, for the purpose of enjoying the
enchanting scenery that lay before him, and the evening breeze, which
possesses so delicious a degree of freshness in tropical climates.
Here he became acquainted with a personage, of whom, as he exerted an
important influence over the future conduct of our hero, it is of
consequence that the reader should acquire early information:--
  "In a deep sequestered nook, formed by two spurs of this mountain,
  there lived a venerable Hindoo, whom the people of the village called
  the Holy Hermit. The favourable accounts I received of his character,
  as well as his odd course of life, made me very desirous of becoming
  acquainted with him; and, as he was often visited by the villagers, I
  found no difficulty in getting a conductor to his cell. His character
  for sanctity, together with a venerable beard, might have discouraged
  advances towards an acquaintance, if his lively piercing eye, a
  countenance expressive of great mildness and kindness of disposition,
  and his courteous manners, had not yet more strongly invited it. He
  was indeed not averse to society, though he had seemed thus to fly
  from it; and was so great a favourite with his neighbours, that his
  cell would have been thronged with visiters, but for the difficulty of
  the approach to it. As it was, it was seldom resorted to, except for
  the purpose of obtaining his opinion and counsel on all the serious
  concerns of his neighbours. He prescribed for the sick, and often
  provided the medicine they required--expounded the law--adjusted
  disputes--made all their little arithmetical calculations--gave them
  moral instruction--and, when he could not afford them relief in their
  difficulties, he taught them patience, and gave them consolation. He,
  in short, united, for the simple people by whom he was surrounded, the
  functions of lawyer, physician, schoolmaster, and divine, and richly
  merited the reverential respect in which they held him, as well as
  their little presents of eggs, fruit, and garden stuff.
  "From the first evening that I joined the party which I saw clambering
  up the path that led to the Hermit's cell, I found myself strongly
  attached to this venerable man, and the more so, from the mystery
  which hung around his history. It was agreed that he was not a
  Burmese. None deemed to know certainly where he was born, or why he
  came thither. His own account was, that he had devoted himself to the
  service of God, and in his pilgrimage over the east, had selected this
  as a spot particularly favourable to the life of quiet and seclusion
  he wished to lead.
  "There was one part of his story to which I could scarcely give
  credit. It was said that in the twelve or fifteen years he had resided
  in this place, he had been occasionally invisible for months together,
  and no one could tell why he disappeared, or whither he had gone. At
  these times his cell was closed; and although none ventured to force
  their way into it, those who were the most prying could hear no sound
  indicating that he was within. Various were the conjectures formed on
  the subject. Some supposed that he withdrew from the sight of men for
  the purpose of more fervent prayer and more holy meditation; others,
  that he visited his home, or some other distant country. The more
  superstitious believed that he had, by a kind of metempsychosis, taken
  a new shape, which, by some magical or supernatural power, he could
  assume and put off at pleasure This opinion was perhaps the most
  prevalent, as it gained a colour with these simple people, from the
  chemical and astronomical instruments he possessed In these he
  evidently took great pleasure, and by then means he acquired some of
  the knowledge by which he so often excited their admiration.
  "He soon distinguished me from the rest of his visiters, by addressing
  questions to me relative to my history and adventures, and I, in turn,
  was gratified to have met with one who took an interest in my
  concerns, and who alone, of all I had here met with, could either
  enter into my feelings or comprehend my opinions. Our conversations
  were earned on in English, which he spoke with facility and
  correctness We soon found ourselves so much to each other's taste,
  that there was seldom an evening that I did not make him a visit, and
  pass an hour or two in his company
  "I learned from him that he was born and bred at Benares, in
  Hindostan, that he had been intended for the priesthood, and had been
  well instructed in the literature of the east That a course of
  untoward circumstances, upon which he seemed unwilling to dwell, had
  changed his destination, and made him a wanderer on the face of the
  earth That in the neighbouring kingdom of Siam he had formed an
  intimacy with a learned French Jesuit, who had not only taught him his
  language, but imparted to him a knowledge of much of the science of
  Europe, its institutions and manners That after the death of this
  friend, he had renewed his wanderings, and having been detained in
  this village by a fit of sickness for some weeks, he was warned that
  it was time to quit his rambling life. This place being recommended to
  him, both by its quiet seclusion, and the unsophisticated manners of
  its inhabitants, he determined to pass the remnant of his days here,
  and, by devoting them to the purposes of piety, charity, and science,
  to discharge his duty to his Creator, his species, and himself, 'for
  the love of knowledge,' he added, 'has long been my chief source of
  selfish enjoyment'"
The acquaintance between Atterley and the Brahmin, ripened by degrees,
into that close friendship, which a congeniality of tastes and
sentiments, under proper opportunities, never fails to engender.
Atterley's visits to the hermitage, became more and more frequent, for
upwards of three years, during which period, the Brahmin had
occasionally thrown out obscure hints, that the time would come, when
our hero should be restored to liberty, and that he had an important
secret which he would one day communicate. About this period, one
afternoon in the month of March, when Atterley repaired, as usual, to
the hermitage, he found the Brahmin dangerously ill of a pleuritic
affection, and apprehensive that the attack might prove fatal--
  "Sit down," said he, "on that block, and listen to what I shall say to
  you Though I shall quit this state of being for another and a better,
  I confess that I was alarmed at the thought of expiring, before I had
  an opportunity of seeing and conversing with you I am the depository
  of a secret, that I believe is known to no other living mortal I once
  determined that it should die with me, and had I not met with you, it
  certainly should But from our first acquaintance, my heart has been
  strongly attracted towards you, and as soon as I found you possessed
  of qualities to inspire esteem as well as regard, I felt disposed to
  give you this proof of my confidence Still I hesitated I first wished
  to deliberate on the probable effects of my disclosure upon the
  condition of society I saw that it might produce evil, as well as
  good, but on weighing the two together, I have satisfied myself that
  the good will preponderate, and have determined to act accordingly
  Take this key, (stretching out his feverish hand,) and after waiting
  two hours, in which time the medicine I have taken will have either
  produced a good effect or put an end to my sufferings, you may then
  open that blue chest in the corner It has a false bottom On removing
  the paper which covers it, you will find the manuscript containing the
  important secret, together with some gold pieces, which I have saved
  for the day of need--because--(and he smiled in spite of his
  sufferings)--because hoarding is one of the pleasures of old men. Take
  them both, and use them discreetly."
Atterley quitted the cell, and waited with feverish expectation for
the termination of the allotted two hours, when, to his inexpressible
delight, he found, on re-entering the cell, that not only did the
Brahmin breathe, but that he slept soundly; and, in the course of an
hour, he awoke, almost restored to health. This event, however, was
the occasion of a more early disclosure of the Brahmin's important
secret, but not until he had recovered his ordinary health and
  "I have already told you, my dear Atterley, that I was born and
  educated at Benares, and that science is there more thoroughly
  understood and taught than the people of the west are aware of. We
  have, for many thousands of years, been good astronomers, chymists,
  mathematicians, and philosophers. We had discovered the secret of
  gunpowder, the magnetic attraction, the properties of electricity,
  long before they were heard of in Europe. We know more than we have
  revealed, and much of our knowledge is deposited in the archives of
  the castle to which I belong, but, for want of language generally
  understood and easily learnt, (for these records are always written in
  the Sanscrit, that is no longer a spoken language,) and the diffusion
  which is given by the art of printing, these secrets of science are
  communicated only to a few, and sometimes even sleep with their
  authors, until a subsequent discovery, under more favourable
  circumstances, brings them again to light.
  "It was at this seat of science that I learned, from one of our sages,
  the physical truth which I am now about to communicate, and which he
  discovered, partly by his researches into the writings of ancient
  Pundits, and partly by his own extraordinary sagacity. There is a
  principle of repulsion as well as gravitation in the earth. It causes
  fire to rise upwards. It is exhibited in electricity. It occasions
  water-spouts, volcanoes, and earthquakes. After much labour and
  research, this principle has been found embodied in a metallic
  substance, which is met with in the mountain in which we are, united
  with a very heavy earth, and this circumstance had great influence in
  inducing me to settle myself here.
  "This metal, when separated and purified, has as great a tendency to
  fly off from the earth, as a piece of gold or lead has to approach it.
  After making a number of curious experiments with it, we bethought
  ourselves of putting it to some use, and soon contrived, with the aid
  of it, to make cars and ascend into the air. We were very secret in
  these operations, for our unhappy country having then recently fallen
  under the subjection of the British nation, we apprehended that if we
  divulged our arcanum, they would not only fly away with all our
  treasures, whether found in palace or pagoda, but also carry off the
  inhabitants, to make them slaves in their colonies, as their
  government had not then abolished the African slave trade.
  "After various trials and many successive improvements, in which our
  desires increased with our success, we determined to penetrate the
  aerial void as far as we could, providing for that purpose an
  apparatus, with which you will become better acquainted hereafter. In
  the course of our experiments, we discovered that this same metal,
  which was repelled from the earth, was in the same degree attracted
  towards the moon, for in one of our excursions, still aiming to ascend
  higher than we had ever done before, we were actually carried to that
  satellite, and if we had not there fallen into a lake, and our machine
  had not been water-tight, we must have been dashed to pieces or
  drowned. You will find in this book," he added, presenting me with a
  small volume, bound in green parchment, and fastened with silver
  clasps, "a minute detail of the apparatus to be provided, and the
  directions to be pursued in making this wonderful voyage. I have
  written it since I satisfied my mind that my fears of British rapacity
  were unfounded, and that I should do more good than harm by publishing
  the secret. But still I am not sure," he added, with one of his faint
  but significant smiles, "that I am not actuated by a wish to
  immortalize my name; for where is the mortal who would be indifferent
  to this object, if he thought he could attain it? Read the book at
  your leisure, and study it."
Here, by the way, we may remark, that the kind of vehicle best adapted
for conveyance through the aerial void, has been a weighty stumbling
block to authors, from the time of the eagle-mounted Ganymede, to that
of Daniel O'Rourke; or of the wing furnished Daedalus and Icarus, to
that of the flying Turk in Constantinople, referred to by Busbequius;
or of the flying artist of the happy valley, in Rasselas. When
Trygaeus was desirous of reaching the Gods, he erected, we are told, a
series of small ladders--[Greek: epeita lepta klimakia]--but receiving
a severe contusion on the head, from their downfall, he ingeniously
had recourse to a scheme of flying through the air, on a colossal
variety of those industrious but not over-delicate insects, the
_Scarabaeus Carnifex_--the only insect, notwithstanding, according
to Aesop, privileged to ascend to the habitations of the gods--
    [Greek: monos peteinoon eis theous aphigmenos.[2]]
Most of the stories of Pegasi and Hippogriffs, and of flying chariots,
from that of Phaeton downwards to Astolfo's,[3] were evidently
intended by their authors as mythical; not so, however, with Bishop
Wilkins;--he boldly avers, for several reasons which he keeps to
himself, and for others not very comprehensible to us, which he
details "seriously and on good grounds," "that it is possible to make
a flying chariot, in which a man may sit, and give such a motion unto
it, as shall convey him through the air; and this perhaps might be
made large enough to carry divers men at the same time, together with
food for their _viaticum_, and commodities for traffic." "It is
not," lucidly continues the Bishop, "the bigness of any thing in this
kind, that can hinder its motion, if the motive faculty be answerable
thereunto. We see a great ship swims as well as a small cork; and an
eagle flies in the air, as well as a little gnat. This engine may be
contrived from the same principles by which Archytas made a wooden
dove, and Regiomontanus a wooden eagle. I conceive it were no
difficult matter, (if a man had leisure,) to show more particularly
the means of composing it"!--which want of leisure in the credulous
Bishop, our readers will regret with us, especially those inventive
geniuses, who, like the projector in the reign of George I., published
a scheme for manufacturing pine plank from pine saw-dust, or the still
more ingenious undertaker of later times, who proposed to make _pine
plank_ out of _oak_ saw-dust, by the mere addition of a little
Again, Swift's flying Island of Laputa is a phenomenon so opposed to
all scientific probability, and so directly at variance with natural
laws, that it loses in interest in a direct ratio with the violence it
does to our feelings. Nor is the mode of conveyance imagined by
Voltaire less incongruous than that of Swift. When Micromegas, ah
inhabitant of Sirius, whose adventures were evidently suggested by
those of Gulliver, accompanied by an inhabitant of Saturn, leaves the
latter planet, they are, in the first place, made to leap upon the
Ring of Saturn, which they find tolerably flat, "comme l'a fort bien
devine un illustre habitant de notre petit globe:" thence they go from
moon to moon, and a comet passing close to one of these, they throw
themselves upon it, with their attendants and instruments. In their
course, they fall in with the satellites of Jupiter, and pass on to
Jupiter itself, where they remain for a year; but what becomes of the
comet in the mean time, we are not informed! Leaving Jupiter, they
"coast" along the planet Mars, and finally reach the earth, where they
resolve to disembark. Accordingly "ils passerent sur la queue de la
comete; et trouvant une aurore boreale toute prete, ils se mirent
dedans, et arriverent a terre sur le bord septentrional de la Mer
Baltique"![4]
The vehicle, however, has not formed the sole obstacle to those
projectors:--the _viaticum_, especially the food, has been a
difficulty not readily got over. Before Bishop Wilkins alludes to his
flying chariot, he remarks, that even if men could fly, the swiftest
of them would probably be half a year in reaching the end of his
journey; and hence a problem would arise, "how it were possible to
tarry so long without sleep or diet?" Of the former obstacle, however,
he quickly disposes,--"seeing we do not then spend ourselves in any
labour, we shall not, it may be, _need_ the refreshment of sleep:
but if we do, we cannot desire a softer bed than the air, where we may
repose ourselves firmly and safely as in our chambers"! Of the latter
he finds somewhat more difficulty in disposing,--"and here it is
considerable, that, since our bodies will then be devoid of gravity
and other impediments of motion, we shall not at all spend ourselves
in any labour, and so, consequently, not much need the reparation of
diet, but may perhaps live altogether without it, as those creatures
have done, who, by reason of their sleeping for many days together,
have not spent any spirits, and so not wanted any food; which is
commonly related of serpents, crocodiles, bears, cuckoos, swallows,
and such like. To this purpose, Mendoca reckons up divers strange
relations, as that of Epimenides, who is storied to have slept
seventy-five years; and another of a rustic in Germany, who, being
accidentally covered with a hay-rick, slept there for all the autumn
and the winter following, without any nourishment Or, if we must needs
feed upon something else, why may not smells nourish us? Plutarch, and
Pliny, and divers other ancients, tell us of a nation in India, that
lived only upon pleasing odours; and it is the common opinion of
physicians, that these do strangely both strengthen and repair the
spirits. Hence was it that Democritus was able, for divers days
together, to feed himself with the mere smell of hot bread.[5] Or, if
it be necessary that our stomachs must receive the food, why then it
is not impossible that the purity of the etherial air, being not mixed
with any improper vapours, may be so agreeable to our bodies, as to
yield us sufficient nourishment," with many other arguments of the
like nature. The Bishop ultimately, however, severs the knot, by the
suggestion of his flying chariot, which he makes large enough (for,
_ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute!_) to carry not only food
for the _viaticum_ of the passengers, but also commodities for
their traffic!
Infinitely more ingenuity did the great comic poet of antiquity
display, when he selected the _Scarabaeus;_ as the food which had
already served the purposes of digestion with the Rider, was still
capable of affording nutrition to the animal:--
    nun d'att'an autos kataphagoo ta sitia.
    toutoisi tois autoisi touton chortasoo[6]]
Now all these schemes, ingenious as they may be, are objectionable for
the same reasons as the flying Island of Laputa--their glaring
violation of verisimilitude, and many of them of possibility. In these
respects, that of the author of the work before us is liable to less
objection: he only resorts to an extension of avowed physical
principles; and if we could suppose a substance, which, instead of
gravitating towards the earth, is repelled from it and attracted
towards the moon, (certainly a difficult  "_premier pas_,") the
remainder of the machinery, for reaching that luminary, would not be
inconsistent with probability or the known laws of physics.
But, to return to the narrative:--The Brahmin having given Atterley a
description of some of the remarkable objects which he met with, in
his voyage to the moon; expressed his anxiety to repeat it, for the
purpose of ascertaining some facts about which he had been
speculating, as well as of removing the incredulity with which, he
could not but perceive, his story had impressed his hearer,
notwithstanding his belief in the Hermit's integrity; when Atterley
eagerly caught at the proposal. Their preparations, however, required
time as well as considerable skill, not only for the construction of
the vehicle, but also to avoid suspicion and interruption from the
Governor of Mergui,--and the priesthood, who possessed the usual
Oriental superstition and intolerance.
For the construction of their apparatus they had recourse to an
ingenious artificer in copper and other metals, whose child the
Brahmin had been instrumental in curing of a chronic disease, and in
whose fidelity as well as good will they could securely rely.
  "The coppersmith agreed to undertake the work we wanted done, for a
  moderate compensation, but we did not think it prudent to inform him
  of our object, which he supposed was to make some philosophical
  experiment. It was forthwith arranged that he should occasionally
  visit the Hermit, to receive instructions, as if for the purpose of
  asking medical advice. During this interval my mind was absorbed with
  our project; and when in company, I was so thoughtful and abstracted,
  that it has since seemed strange to me that Sing Fou's suspicions that
  I was planning my escape were not more excited. At length, by dint of
  great exertion, in about three months every thing was in readiness,
  and we determined on the following night to set out on our perilous
  expedition.
  "The machine in which we proposed to embark, was a copper vessel, that
  would have been an exact cube of six feet, if the corners and edges
  had not been rounded off. It had an opening large enough to receive
  our bodies, which was closed by double sliding pannels, with quilted
  cloth between them. When these were properly adjusted, the machine was
  perfectly air-tight, and strong enough, by means of iron bars running
  alternately inside and out, to resist the pressure of the atmosphere,
  when the machine should be exhausted of its air, as we took the
  precaution to prove by the aid of an air pump. On the top of the
  copper chest and on the outside, we had as much of the lunar metal
  (which I shall henceforth call _lunarium_) as we found by
  calculation and experiment, would overcome the weight of the machine,
  as well as its contents, and take us to the moon on the third day. As
  the air which the machine contained, would not be sufficient for our
  respiration more than about six hours, and the chief part of the space
  we were to pass through was a mere void, we provided ourselves with a
  sufficient supply, by condensing it in a small globular vessel, made
  partly of iron and partly of lunarium, to take off its weight. On my
  return, I gave Mr. Jacob Perkins, who is now in England, a hint of
  this plan of condensation, and it has there obtained him great
  celebrity. This fact I should not have thought it worth while to
  mention, had he not taken the sole merit of the invention to himself,
  at least I cannot hear that in his numerous public notices he has ever
  mentioned my name.
  "But to return. A small circular window, made of a single piece of
  thick clear glass, was neatly fitted on each of the six sides. Several
  pieces of lead were securely fastened to screws which passed through
  the bottom of the machine as well as a thick plank. The screws were so
  contrived, that by turning them in one direction, the pieces of lead
  attached to them were immediately disengaged from the hooks with which
  they were connected. The pieces of lunarium were fastened in like
  manner to screws, which passed through the top of the machine; so that
  by turning them in one direction, those metallic pieces would fly into
  the air with the velocity of a rocket. The Brahmin took with him a
  thermometer, two telescopes, one of which projected through the top of
  the machine, and the other through the bottom; a phosphoric lamp, pen,
  ink, and paper, and some light refreshments sufficient to supply us
  for some days.
  "The moon was then in her third quarter, and near the zenith: it was,
  of course, a little after midnight, and when the coppersmith and his
  family were in their soundest sleep, that we entered the machine. In
  about an hour more we had the doors secured, and every thing arranged
  in its place, when, cutting the cords which fastened us to the ground,
  by means of small steel blades which worked in the ends of other
  screws, we rose from the earth with a whizzing sound, and a sensation
  at first of very rapid ascent, but after a short time, we were
  scarcely sensible of any motion in the machine, except when we changed
  our places."
After the apprehensions of Atterley, occasioned by the novelty and
danger of his situation, had partly subsided, he was enabled, with
mingled awe and admiration, to contemplate the magnificent spectacle
beneath him. As the earth turned round its axis, during their ascent,
every part of its surface came successively under view. At nine
o'clock, the whole of India was to the west of them; its rivers
resembling small filaments of silver, and the Red Sea a narrow plate
of the same metal. The peninsula of India was of a dark, and Arabia of
a light, grayer green, and the sun's rays striking on the Atlantic,
emitted an effulgence dazzling to the eyes. On looking, some time
afterwards, through the telescope, they observed the African
Continent, at its northern edge; fringed, as it were, with green;
"then a dull white belt marked the great Sahara or Desert, and then it
exhibited a deep green to its most southern extremity." The Morea and
Grecian Archipelago now fell under their telescope, and gradually the
whole Mediterranean, and Arabian Gulf--the great media separating
Africa from Europe and Asia; "the political divisions of these
quarters of the world were of course undistinguishable, and few of the
natural were discernible by the naked eye. The Alps were marked by a
white streak, though less bright than the water." By the aid of the
glass they could just discern the Danube, the Nile, and "a river which
empties itself into the Gulf of Guinea," and which Atterley took to be
the Niger; but the other streams were not perceptible. The most
conspicuous object of the solid part of the globe was the great
Desert; the whole of Africa, however, appeared of a brighter hue than
either Asia or Europe.
  "I was struck too, with the vast disproportion which the extent of the
  several countries of the earth bore to the part they had acted in
  history, and the influence they had exerted on human affairs. The
  British islands had diminished to a speck, and France was little
  larger, yet, a few years ago it seemed, at least to us in the United
  States, as if there were no other nations on the earth. The Brahmin,
  who was well read in European history, on my making a remark on this
  subject, reminded me that Athens and Sparta had once obtained almost
  equal celebrity, although they were so small as not now to be visible.
  As I slowly passed the telescope over the face of Europe, I pictured
  to myself the fat, plodding Hollander--the patient, contemplative
  German--the ingenious, sensual Italian--the temperate Swiss--the
  haughty, superstitious Spaniard--the sprightly, self-complacent
  Frenchman--the sullen and reflecting Englishman--who monopolise nearly
  all the science and literature of the earth, to which they bear so
  small a proportion. As the Atlantic fell under our view, two faint
  circles on each side of the equator, were to be perceived by the naked
  eye. They were less bright than the rest of the ocean. The Brahmin
  suggested that they might be currents; which brought to my memory Dr.
  Franklin's conjecture on the subject, now completely verified by this
  circular line of vapour, as it had been previously rendered probable
  by the floating substances, which had been occasionally picked up, at
  great distances from the places where they had been thrown into the
  ocean. The circle was whiter and more distinct, where the Gulf Stream
  runs parallel to the American coast, and gradually grew fainter as it
  passed along the Banks of Newfoundland, to the coast of Europe, where,
  taking a southerly direction, the line of the circle was barely
  discernible. A similar circle of vapour, though less defined and
  complete, was perceived in the South Atlantic Ocean."
By degrees the travellers saw one half of the broad expanse of the
Pacific, which glistened like quicksilver or polished steel, and
subsequently the middle of the Pacific lay immediately beneath them;
the irregular distribution of land and water on the globe, the expanse
of Ocean here, being twice as large as in any other part, gives
occasion to some amusing discussions on the various theories of
cosmogony, to which we can only refer the reader; wearied, however, by
these and other discussions, Atterley slept for six hours, and on
awaking, found the Brahmin busy in calculating their progress; after
which the latter lay down and soon fell into a tranquil sleep, having
previously requested that he might be awakened at the expiration of
three hours, or sooner if any thing of moment should occur. Atterley
now looked down again through the telescope, and found the earth
surprisingly diminished in its apparent dimensions, from the increased
rapidity of their ascent; the eastern coasts of Asia were still full
in view, as well as the whole figure of that extensive continent--of
New-Holland, of Ceylon and of Borneo; but the smaller islands were
  "I strained my eye to no purpose, to follow the indentations of the
  coast, according to the map before me, the great bays and promontories
  could alone be perceived. The Burman Empire, in one of the
  insignificant villages of which I had been confined for a few years,
  was now reduced to a speck. The agreeable hours I had passed with the
  Brahmin, with the little daughter of Sing Fou, and my rambling over
  the neighbouring heights, all recurred to my mind, and I almost
  regretted the pleasures I had relinquished. I tried with more success
  to beguile the time by making notes in my journal, and after having
  devoted about an hour to this object, I returned to the telescope, and
  now took occasion to examine the figure of the earth near the Poles,
  with a view of discovering whether its form favoured Captain Symmes's
  theory of an aperture existing there, and I am convinced that that
  ingenious gentleman is mistaken. Time passed so heavily during these
  solitary occupations, that I looked at my watch every five minutes,
  and could scarcely be persuaded it was not out of order. I then took
  up my little Bible, (which had always been my travelling companion,)
  read a few chapters in St. Matthew, and found my feelings
  tranquillized, and my courage increased. The desired hour at length
  arrived; when, on waking the old man, he alertly raised himself up,
  and at the first view of the diminished appearance of the earth,
  observed that our journey was a third over, as to time, but not as to
  distance."
After having again composed himself to rest for about four hours,
Atterley was awakened by the Brahmin, in whose arms he found himself,
and, on looking around, discovered that he was lying on what had been
the ceiling of the chamber, which still, however, felt like the
bottom. The reason of this phenomenon was thus explained to him by the
Brahmin--"we have, while you were asleep, passed the middle point
between the earth's and the moon's attraction; and we now gravitate
less towards our own planet than (to) her satellite. I took the
precaution to move you, before you fell by your own gravity, from what
was lately the bottom, to that which is now so, and to keep you in
this place until you were retained in it by the moon's attraction; for
though your fall would have been, at this point, like that of a
feather, yet it would have given you some shock and alarm. The
machine, therefore, has undergone no change in its position or
course;--the change is altogether in our feelings."
The whole face of the moon, Atterley now found to be entirely changed,
and on looking through the upper telescope, the earth presented an
appearance not very dissimilar; but the outline of her continents and
oceans was still perceptible in different shades, and capable of being
readily recognised; the bright glare of the sun, however, made the
surfaces of both bodies somewhat dim and pale.
  "After a short interval, I again looked at the moon, and found not
  only its magnitude very greatly increased, but that it was beginning
  to present a more beautiful spectacle. The sun's rays fell obliquely
  on her disc, so that by a large part of its surface not reflecting the
  light, I saw every object on it, so far as I was enabled by the power
  of my telescope. Its mountains, lakes, seas, continents, and islands,
  were faintly, though not indistinctly, traced; and every moment
  brought forth something new to catch my eye, and awaken my curiosity.
  The whole face of the moon was of a silvery hue, relieved and varied
  by the softest and most delicate shades. No cloud nor speck of vapour
  intercepted my view. One of my exclamations of delight awakened the
  Brahmin, who quickly arose, and looking down on the resplendent orb
  below us, observed that we must soon begin to slacken the rapidity of
  our course, by throwing out ballast. The moon's dimensions now rapidly
  increased; the separate mountains, which formed the ridges and chains
  on her surface, began to be plainly visible through the telescope;
  whilst, on the shaded side, several volcanoes appeared upon her disc,
  like the flashes of our fire-fly, or rather like the twinkling of
  stars in a frosty night. He remarked, that the extraordinary clearness
  and brightness of the objects on the moon's surface, was owing to her
  having a less extensive and more transparent atmosphere than the
  earth: adding--'The difference is so great, that some of our
  astronomical observers have been induced to think she has none. If
  that, however, had been the case, our voyage would have been
  impracticable.'"
After gazing for some time on this magnificent spectacle, with
admiration and delight, one of their balls of _lunarium_ was let
off for the purpose of checking their velocity. At this time the
Brahmin supposed they were not more than four thousand miles from the
nearest point of the moon's surface. In about four hours more, her
apparent magnitude was so great, that they could see her by looking
out of either of the side windows.
  "Her disc had now lost its former silvery appearance, and began to
  look more like that of the earth, when seen at the same distance. It
  was a most gratifying spectacle to behold the objects successively
  rising to our view, and steadily enlarging in their dimensions. The
  rapidity with which we approached the moon, impressed me, in spite of
  myself, with the alarming sensation of falling; and I found myself
  alternately agitated with a sense of this danger, and with impatience
  to take a nearer view of the new objects that greeted my eyes. The
  Brahmin was wholly absorbed in calculations for the purpose of
  adjusting our velocity to the distance we had to go, his estimates of
  which, however, were in a great measure conjectural; and ever and anon
  he would let off a ball of the lunar metal.
  "After a few hours, we were so near the moon that every object was
  seen in our glass, as distinctly as the shells or marine plants
  through a piece of shallow sea-water, though the eye could take in but
  a small part of her surface, and the horizon, which bounded our view,
  was rapidly contracting. On letting the air escape from our machine,
  it did not now rush out with the same violence as before, which showed
  that we were within the moon's atmosphere. This, as well as ridding
  ourselves of the metal balls, aided in checking our progress. By and
  by we were within a few miles of the highest mountains, when we threw
  down so much of our ballast, that we soon appeared almost stationary.
  The Brahmin remarked, that he should avail himself of the currents of
  air we might meet with, to select a favourable place for landing,
  though we were necessarily attracted towards the same region, in
  consequence of the same half of the moon's surface being always turned
  towards the earth."
The Brahmin now pointed out the necessity of looking out for some
cultivated field, in one of the valleys they were approaching, where
they might rely on being not far distant from some human habitation,
and on escaping the perils necessarily attendant on a descent amongst
rocks, trees, and buildings. A gentle breeze now arising, as appeared
by their horizontal motion, which wafted them at the rate of about ten
miles an hour, over a ridge of mountains, a lake, a thick wood, &c.
they at length reached a cultivated region, which the Brahmin
recognised as the country of the Morosofs, the place they were anxious
to visit. By now letting off two balls of lead to the _Earth_,
they descended rapidly; and when they were sufficiently near the
ground to observe that it was a fit place for landing, opened the door
of their Balloon, and found the air of the moon inconceivably sweet
and refreshing. They now let loose one of their lower balls, which
somewhat retarded their descent; and in a few minutes more, being
within twenty yards of the ground, they let go the largest ball of
lunarium, which, having a cord attached to it, served in lieu of a
grapnel; by this they drew themselves down, were disengaged from the
machine in a twinkling, and landed "safe and sound" on, we presume,
"_luna firma!_"
Having seen our travellers securely deposited in the moon, we may
remark, that in the passage from the earth, various topics of an
interesting and important character were canvassed by the Brahmin and
his companion; one, _on the causes of national superiority_,
suggested by the views of Africa, and a comparison between that
benighted country and others more illuminated, is especially worthy of
attention, as containing a condensed and philosophical view of the
subject; eloquently and perspicuously conveyed.
The view of America, suggests some remarks on the _political
peculiarities of the United States_, with speculations on their
future destiny.
A lively description of the contrast between the circumstances of the
Kamtschadale--
    "The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone,"
and the gay, voluptuous native of the Sandwich, and other isles within
the tropics--the one passing his life in toil, privation, and care--the
other in ease, abundance, and enjoyment--leads to a similar conclusion
to that expressed by Goldsmith:--
    "And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
    And estimate the blessings which they share,
    Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find
    An equal portion dealt to all mankind."
A disquisition also takes place--_whether India or Egypt were the
parent of the Arts?_
This leads them to refer to the strange custom in the country of the
Brahmin, which impels the widow to throw herself on the funeral pile,
and be consumed with her husband:--
  "I told him," says Atterley, "that it had often been represented as
  compulsory--or, in other words, that it was said that every art and
  means were resorted to, for the purpose of working on the mind of the
  woman, by her relatives, aided by the priests, who would be naturally
  gratified by such signal triumphs of religion over the strongest
  feelings of nature. He admitted that these engines were sometimes put
  in operation, and that they impelled to the sacrifice, some who were
  wavering; but insisted, that in a majority of instances, the
  _Suttee_ was voluntary.
  "'Women,' said he, 'are brought up from their infancy, to regard our
  sex as their superiors, and to believe that their greatest merit
  consists in entire devotion to their husbands. Under this feeling, and
  having, at the same time, their attention frequently turned to the
  chance of such a calamity, they are better prepared to meet it when it
  occurs. How few of the officers in your western armies, ever hesitate
  to march, at the head of their men, on a forlorn hope? and how many
  even court the danger for the sake of the glory? Nay, you tell me
  that, according to your code of honour, if one man insults another, he
  who gives the provocation, and he who receives it, rather than be
  disgraced in the eyes of their countrymen, will go out, and quietly
  shoot at each other with fire-arms, till one of them is killed or
  wounded; and this too, in many cases, when the injury has been merely
  nominal. If you show such a contempt of death, in deference to a
  custom founded in mere caprice, can it be wondered that a woman should
  show it, in the first paroxysms of her grief for the loss of him to
  whom was devoted every thought, word, and action of her life, and who,
  next to her God, was the object of her idolatry? My dear Atterley,' he
  continued, with emotion, 'you little know the strength of woman's
Other topics of interest are also discussed with the like ingenuity.
After this episode, it is time for us to return to our travellers,
whose feelings, the moment they touched the ground, repayed them for
all they had endured. Atterley looked around with the most intense
curiosity; but nothing he saw, "surprised him so much, as to find so
little that was surprising:"--vegetation, insects, and other animals,
were pretty much of the same character as those he had before seen;
but, on better acquaintance, he found the difference greater than he
had at first supposed. Having refreshed themselves with the remains of
their stores, and secured the door of the machine, they bent their
course to the town of Alamatua, about three miles distant, which
seemed to contain about two thousand houses, and to be not quite as
large as Albany; the people were tall and thin, and of a pale,
yellowish complexion; their garments light, loose, and flowing, and
not very different from those of the Turks; they subsist chiefly on a
vegetable diet, live about as long as we do on the earth,
notwithstanding the great difference of climate, and other
circumstances; and do not, in their manners, habits, or character,
differ more from the inhabitants of this globe, than some of the
latter do from one another; their government, anciently monarchical,
is now popular; their code of laws very intricate; their language,
naturally soft and musical, has been yet further refined by the
cultivation of letters; and they have a variety of sects in religion,
politics, and philosophy.
The lunarians do not, as Butler has it--
    "When the sun shines hot at noon,
    Inhabit cellars under ground,
    Of eight miles deep and eighty round."
But, one half of their houses is beneath the surface, partly for the
purpose of screening them from the continued action of the sun's rays,
and partly on account of the earthquakes caused by volcanoes. The
windows of the houses consisted of openings in the wall, sloping so
much upwards, that, whilst they freely admitted the light and air, the
sun was completely excluded. As soon as they were espied by the
natives, great curiosity was of course excited; not, however, to so
troublesome an extent, as might have been, from the circumstance of
the Brahmin's having visited the moon before. Hence he was soon
recognised by some of his acquaintances, and conducted to the house of
the governor, by whom they were graciously received, and who "began a
course of interesting inquiries regarding the affairs of the earth;"
but a gentleman, whom they afterwards understood to be one of the
leaders of the popular party, coming in, he soon despatched them;
having, however, first directed an officer to furnish them with all
that was necessary for their accommodation, at the public expense;
"which act of hospitality, they had reason to fear, occasioned him
some trouble and perplexity at the succeeding election."
A more minute description follows, of the dress of the male and female
lunarians, especially of that of the latter, to which we can merely
refer the reader. There is one portion, however, of the inhabitants,
with whom the reader must be made acquainted, inasmuch as they form
some of the author's most prominent characters. A large number of
lunarians, it seems, are born without any intellectual vigour, and
wander about like so many automatons, under the care of the
government, until illumined by the mental ray, from some terrestrial
brain, through the mysterious influence which the moon is known to
exercise on our planet. But, in this case, the inhabitant of the earth
loses what he of the moon gains, the ordinary portion of understanding
being divided between two; and, "as might be expected, there is a most
exact conformity between the man of the earth, and his counterpart in
the moon, in all their principles of action, and modes of thinking:"--
  "These Glonglims, as they are called, after they have been thus imbued
  with intellect, are held in peculiar respect by the vulgar, and are
  thought to be in every way superior to those whose understandings are
  entire. The laws by which two objects, so far apart, operate on each
  other, have been, as yet, but imperfectly developed, and the wilder
  their freaks, the more they are the objects of wonder and admiration."
"Now and then, though very rarely, the man of the earth regains the
intellect he has lost; in which case, his lunar counterpart returns to
his former state of imbecility. Both parties are entirely unconscious
of the change--one, of what he has lost, and the other, of what he has
The belief of the influence of the moon on the human intellect, the
Brahmin remarks, may be perceived in the opinions of the vulgar, and
in many of the ordinary forms of expression; and he takes occasion to
remark, that these very opinions, as well as some obscure hints in the
Sanscrit, give countenance to the idea, that they were not the only
voyagers to the moon; but that, on the contrary, the voyage had been
performed in remote antiquity; and the Lunarians, we are told, have a
similar tradition. Many ordinary forms of expression are adduced in
support of these ideas.
"Thus," says the Brahmin, "it is generally believed, throughout all
Asia, that the moon has an influence on the brain: and when a man is
of insane mind, we call him a lunatic. One of the curses of the common
people is, 'May the moon eat up your brains!' and in China, they say
of a man who has done any act of egregious folly, 'He was gathering
wool in the moon.'" I was struck with these remarks; and told the
hermit that the language of Europe afforded the same indirect evidence
of the fact he mentioned,--that my own language, especially, abounded
with expressions which could be explained on no other hypothesis: for,
besides the terms "lunacy," "lunatic," and the supposed influence of
the moon on the brain, when we see symptoms of a disordered intellect,
we say the mind _wanders_, which evidently alludes to a part of
it rambling to a distant region, as is the moon. We say too, a man is
"_out of his head_," that is, his mind being in another man's
head, must of course be out of his own. To "know no more than the man
in the moon," is a proverbial expression for ignorance, and is without
meaning, unless it be considered to refer to the Glonglims.[8]
"We say that an insane man is 'distracted,' by which we mean that his
mind is drawn two different ways. So also, we call a lunatic _a man
beside himself_, which most distinctly expresses the two distinct
bodies his mind now animates. There are, moreover, many other
analogous expressions, as 'moonstruck,' 'deranged,' 'extravagant,' and
some others, which, altogether, form a mass of concurring testimony
that it is impossible to resist."
Leaving this ingenious _badinage_ with the defence of the serious
and sentimental Schiller,
    "Hoher Sinn liegt oft in Kindischen Spiele,"
we return to our travellers, who, at their lodgings, meet with an
instance of _lunar puritanism_--the family eating those portions
of fruits, vegetables, &c., which are thrown away by us, and _vice
versa_, "from a persuasion that all pleasure received through the
senses is sinful, and that man never appears so acceptable in the sight
of the Deity, as when he rejects all the delicacies of the palate, as
well as other sensual gratifications, and imposes on himself that food
to which he feels naturally most repugnant."
_Avarice_ is satirized by the story of one of these Glonglims, who
is occupied in making nails, and then dropping them into a well--refusing
to exchange them for bread or clothes, notwithstanding his starved,
haggard appearance, and evident desire for the food proffered:--
    "Mettant toute sa gloire et son souverain bien
    A grossir un tresor qui ne lui sert de rien."
And this is followed by a picture of _reckless prodigality_ in
another Glonglim.
We pass over the description of the physical peculiarities of the
moon, which seem to be according to the received opinions of
astronomers, as well as the satire on _National Prejudices_, in
the persons of the Hilliboos and Moriboos, and that on the Godwinian
system of morals.
An indisposition experienced by Atterley, occasions his introduction
to Vindar,[9] a celebrated physician, botanist, &c., on whose opinions
we have a keen satire.
On leaving Vindar's house, they observed a short man, (Napoleon,)
preparing to climb to the top of a plane tree, on which there was one
of the tail feathers of a flamingo; and this he would only mount in
one way--on the shoulders of his men:--
  "I could not see this rash Glonglim attempt to climb that dangerous
  ladder, without feeling alarm for his safety. At first all seemed to
  go on very well; but just as he was about to lay hold of the gaudy
  prize, there arose a sudden squall, which threw both him and his
  supporters into confusion, and the whole living pyramid came to the
  ground together. Many were killed--some were wounded and bruised.
  Polenap himself, by lighting on his men, who served him as cushions,
  barely escaped with life. But he received a fracture in the upper part
  of his head, and a dislocation of the hip, which will not only prevent
  him from ever climbing again, but probably make him a cripple for
  "The Brahmin and I endeavoured to give the sufferers some assistance;
  but this was rendered unnecessary, by the crowd which their cries and
  lamentations brought to their relief. I thought that the author of so
  much mischief would have been stoned on the spot; but, to my surprise,
  his servants seemed to feel as much for his honour as their own
  safety, and warmly interfered in his behalf, until they had somewhat
  appeased the rage of the surrounding multitude."
The _absurdities_ of the _physiognomical system_ of Lavater,
and of the _craniological system_ of MM. Gall and Spurzheim, were
not likely to escape animadversion, in a work of general satire,
fruitful as they have already been in such themes. The representative
of the former, is a fortune-telling philosopher, Avarabet, (Lavater,)
whose course of proceeding was, to examine the finger nails, and,
according to their form, colour, thickness, surface, grain, and other
properties, to determine the character and destinies of those who
consulted him; and that of the latter, a physician, who judged of the
character of disposition or disease, by the examination of a lock of
the hair. The upshot of the story is, as might be anticipated, that
the fortune-telling philosopher is caught, and exposed in his own
The _impolicy of privateers, and of letters of marque and
reprisals_, is next animadverted on, by the story of two
neighbours, who are at variance, and whose dependants are occupied in
laying hold of what they can of each other's flocks and herds, and
doing as much mischief as possible, by which both parties, of
necessity, suffer.
A visit to a projector in building, husbandry, and cookery, introduces
us to some inventions not unworthy of the occupation, of the courtiers
of _La Reine Quinte_, or of the Professors of the Academy of
The doctrine of the aerial formation of meteoric stones, receives,
too, a passing notice from our author, who is clearly no supporter of
it. It was a long time before the ancients received credit for their
stories of showers of stones; and all were ready to joke with Butler,
at the story of the Thracian rock, which fell in the river Aegos:--
    "For Anaxagoras, long agon,
    Saw hills, as well as you i'th' moon,
    And held the sun was but a piece
    Of red hot iron as big as Greece.
    Believ'd the heavens were made of stone,
    Because the sun had voided one:
    And, rather than he would recant
    Th' opinion, suffered banishment."
A difficulty surrounds the subject, however we view it.
_Aerolites_, as they have been designated, have now been found in
almost every region and climate of the globe--from Arabia to the
farthest point of Baffin's Bay; and this very circumstance would seem
to be opposed to their aerial origin, unless we are to suppose that
they can be formed in every state, and in the opposite extremes of the
atmosphere. The Brahmin assigns them a lunar origin, and adds, "our
party were greatly amused at the disputations of a learned society in
Europe, in which they undertook to give a mathematical demonstration,
that they could not be thrown from a volcano of the earth, nor from
the moon, but were suddenly formed in the atmosphere. I should as soon
believe, that a loaf of bread could be made and baked in the
atmosphere."
The "gentleman farmer and projector," being attacked, during their
visit, with cholera morbus, and considering himself _in extremis_,
a consultation of physicians takes place, in which one portrait
will be obvious--that of Dr. Shuro, who asserts disease to be
a unit; and that it is the extreme of folly, to divide diseases into
classes, which tend but to produce confusion of ideas, and an
unscientific practice. The enthusiasm of the justly celebrated
individual--the original of this portrait, was so great, that the
slightest data were sufficient for the formation of some of his most
elaborate _hypotheses_--for _theories_ they could not properly
be called; and, accordingly, many of his beautiful and ingenious
superstructures are now prostrated, leaving, in open day, the
insufficiency of their foundation. One of the most striking
examples of this nature, was his belief that the black colour of
the negro is a disease, which depletion, properly exercised, might
be capable of remedying--a scheme not a whit more feasible, than
that of the courtiers of _La Reine Quinte_, referred to by
Rabelais, "who made blackamoors white, as fast as hops, by just
rubbing their stomachs with the bottom of a pannier."
The satire here is not so fortunately displayed, as in other
instances, owing probably to the difficulty of saying any thing new on
so hackneyed a subject; for it has ever happened, that,--
    "The Galenist and Paracelsian,
    Condemn the way each other deals in."
The affair concludes, by the Doctors quarrelling; and, in the mean
time, the patient, profiting by some simple remedies administered by
the Brahmin, and an hour's rest, was so much refreshed, that he
considered himself out of danger, and had no need of medical
_Pestolozzi's system of education_, is with justice satirized;
since, instead of affording facilities to the student, as the
superficial observer might fancy, it retards his acquisition of
knowledge, by teaching him to exercise his external senses, rather
than his reflection.[10]
In a _menagerie_ attached to an academy, in which youths of
maturer years were instructed in the fine arts, the travellers had an
opportunity of observing the vain attempts of education, to control
the natural or instinctive propensities.
    "Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret."
    "For nature driven out, with proud disdain,
    All powerful goddess, will return again."
The election of a town constable, exhibits the violence of _Lunar
Politics_ to be much the same as the terrestrial, and seems to have
some allusion to an existing and important controversy amongst
ourselves. The _prostitution of the press_ is satirized by the
story of a number of boys dressed in black and white--wearing the
badges of the party to which they respectively belong, and each
provided with a syringe and two canteens, the one filled with rose
water, and the other with a black, offensive, fluid: the rose water
being squirted at the favourite candidates and voters--the other fluid
on the opposite party. All these were under regular discipline, and at
the word of command discharged their syringes on friend or foe, as the
case might be.
The "_glorious uncertainty of the law_" (proverbial with us,)
falls also under notice. In Morosofia, it seems, a favourite mode of
settling private disputes, whether concerning person, character, or
property, is by the employment of prize fighters who hire themselves
to the litigants:--
    "And out of foreign controversies
    By aiding both sides, fill their purses:
    But have no int'rest in the cause
    For which th' engage and wage the laws
    Nor farther prospect than their pay
    Whether they lose or win the day."
The chapter concludes with a discussion between an old man and his
wife, in which the _policy of encouraging manufactures_, is
In an account of Okalbia--a happy valley--similar only in name to that
in _Rasselas_, the author seems to sketch his views of a _perfect
commonwealth_, and glances at some important questions of
_politics_ and _political economy_. Prudential restraints are
considered sufficient to obviate a _redundancy of population_--and
on _Ricardo's theory of rent_, the author holds the same opinions
as those already expressed in this Journal.
Some useful hints are also afforded on the subject of _legislation
and jurisprudence_.
After having passed a week amongst the singular and happy Okalbians,
whom our travellers found equally amiable, intelligent, and
hospitable, they returned to Alamatua.
Jeffery's _theory of beauty_, as developed in the article
_beauty_, of the _supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica_,
in which he denies the existence of original beauty and refers
it to association, is ridiculed by an extension of a similar kind
of reasoning to the smell.
A description of a _Lunar fair_ follows, which, like a
terrestrial, is the resort of the busy, the idle, the knavish, and the
gay: some in pursuit of pleasure; others again, without any settled
purpose, carried along by the vague desire of meeting with something
to relieve them from the pain of idleness. _Political contests_
are here represented under the character of gambling transactions, and
if we mistake not, there is a distinct allusion to more than one
important contest in the annals of this country.
Having now satisfied his curiosity, Atterley became anxious to return
to his native planet, and accordingly urged the Brahmin to lose no
time in preparing for their departure. They were soon, however,
informed that a man high in office, by way of affecting political
sagacity, had proposed to detain them, on the ground that when such
voyages as their's were shown to be practicable, the inhabitants of
the earth, who were so much more numerous than those of the moon,
might invade the latter with a large army, for the purpose of rapine
and contest; but notwithstanding the influence of this sapient
politician, they finally obtained leave to quit the moon whenever they
thought proper.
Having taken a "respectful or affectionate" leave of all their
lunarian friends, and got every thing in readiness,--at midnight of
the twentieth of August, they again entered their copper
_balloon_, and after they had ascended until the face of the moon
looked like one vast lake of melted silver, with here and there small
pieces of grayish dross floating on it, Atterley reminded the Brahmin
of a former promise to detail the history of his early life, to which
he assented:--of this, perhaps the most interesting part of the book,
to the general reader, we regret that our limits will only admit of
our giving a very condensed and imperfect narrative.
Gurameer, the Brahmin, was born at Benares. He was the only son of a
priest of Vishnu, of rank, and was himself intended for the
priesthood. At school, he meets with a boy of the name of _Balty
Mahu_, between whom and himself a degree of rivalry, and
subsequently the most decided enmity, existed--a circumstance that
decided the character of Gurameer's subsequent life. They afterwards
met at college, where a more extended theatre was afforded for the
exercise of Balty Mahu's malignity. During a vacation, Gurameer, being
on a visit to an uncle in the country, one day, when the family had
gone to witness a grand spectacle in honour of an important festival
in their calendar, which he could not himself attend consistently with
the rules of his caste, was tempted to visit the deserted Zenana, or
ladies' apartment, where he accidentally meets with a beautiful young
female. The acquaintance, thus begun, soon ripened into intimacy, by
means of walks in the garden, contrived by Fatima, one of his female
cousins. At length they are constrained to separate. Veenah (for so
the young lady is named) returns to Benares, whither Gurameer soon
follows her. On making his father acquainted with his attachment, the
latter endeavours to persuade him to overcome it, and informs him that
Veenah's father is avaricious, and a bigot, and hence, that he would
probably be prejudiced against him, owing to some imputations which
had been cast on Gurameer's religious creed, and industriously
circulated by his old enemy, Balty Mahu, who proves to be the cousin
of Veenah These considerations prevail upon Gurameer to defer any
application to Veenah's father, until the suspicions regarding his
faith had either died away or been falsified by his scrupulous
observance of all religious duties. This resolution he determines to
communicate to his mistress. Accordingly, in the evening, he betakes
himself to the quarter of the city where Veenah's father lives; and,
walking to and fro before the house, soon discovers that he is
recognised. By a cord, let down from the window, he conveys a letter
to her, which, the following evening, she answers; and thus a regular
correspondence was kept up, which, by the exercise it afforded to
their imaginations, and the difficulties attendant upon it, inflamed
their passion to the highest pitch. He had, however, soon the
misfortune to be discovered by Balty Mahu, and, in consequence, Veenah
is debarred from pen and ink, but contrives to acquaint her lover that
their intercourse has been discovered, by a short note, written with a
burnt stick. Gurameer now goes in despair to Veenah's father, from
whom he experiences a haughty repulse, and who, in the following
night, secretly leaves the city, with his daughter, embarking on the
Ganges, and taking measures to prevent the discovery of the place of
his retreat. At the expiration of two or three months, an end is put
to Gurameer's doubts and apprehensions, by his return, with his
daughter and son-in-law--a rich Omrah, four times her age. After the
first ebullitions of rage have subsided, his love returns; but he is
never able to succeed in obtaining an interview with Veenah. By his
cousin Fatima, he learns the circumstances of Veenah's marriage, and
the deceptions which had been practised on her, aided by the unbounded
authority which parents exercise in eastern countries. The unhappy
Veenah, as firm in her principles as she was gentle in disposition,
refuses to see him. "Tell him," said she, "that Heaven has forbidden
it, and to its decrees we are bound to submit I am now the wife of
another, and it is our duty to forget all that is past. But if this be
possible, my heart tells me it can be only by our never meeting!"
Gurameer now fell into a state of settled melancholy, and consented to
travel, more for the purpose of pleasing his parents, than from any
concern for his own health; but travelling had little effect--"he
carried a barbed arrow in his heart; and the greater the efforts to
extract it, the more they rankled the wound." When so much emaciated
that he was not expected to live a month, he took a voyage, coastwise,
to Madras; and, on his arrival there, learned that Balty Mahu had
recently left that place. This intelligence operated like a charm; the
desire of revenge roused all his energies and became his master
passion. He immediately set off in pursuit; but, although often near,
could never overtake him. His health rapidly improves; and at length
he hears that the old Omrah's health is rapidly declining. This
information awakens new thoughts and hopes, and Balty Mahu is
forgotten. He hastens hack to Benares; and when near the city, hears
two merchants, in conversation, remark that the Omrah is dead, and
that his widow was the next day to perform the _Suttee_. He
immediately mounts his horse, and reaches the city the next morning at
sunrise. In the street he mixes with the throng;--hears Veenah pitied,
her father blamed, and himself lamented. He now sees Veenah approach
the funeral pile, who, at the well known sound of his voice, shrieked
out, "he lives! he lives!" and would have attempted to save herself
from the flames; but the shouts of the surrounding multitude, and the
sound of the instruments, drowned her voice. He now attempts to
approach the pile for the purpose of rescuing her, but is forcibly
held back until the wretched Veenah is enveloped in flames. On his
again attempting to reach the pile, he was charged with profanation;
and, on Balty Mahu's making his appearance and encouraging the charge,
in frantic desperation he seizes a scymetar from one of the guards,
and plunges it in his breast. The influence of his friends, and the
sacred character of persons of his caste, saved the Brahmin from
capital punishment; but he was banished from Hindostan. He now removed
to the kingdom of Ava, where he continued so long as his parents
lived, after which he visited several countries, both of Asia and
Europe; and in one of his journeys, having discovered Lunarium Ore in
the mountain near Mogaun, he determined to pass the remainder of his
days in that secluded retreat.--"So ends this strange, eventful
When the Brahmin terminated his narrative, the extended map beneath
them was already assuming a distinct and varied appearance:--
  "The Brahmin, having applied his eye to the telescope, and made a
  brief calculation of our progress, considered that twenty-four hours
  more, if no accident interrupted us, would end our voyage; part of
  which interval I passed in making notes in my journal, and in
  contemplating the different sections of our many peopled globe, as
  they presented themselves successively to the eye. It was my wish to
  land on the American continent, and, if possible, in the United
  States. But the Brahmin put an end to that hope, by reminding me that
  we should be attracted towards the Equator, and that we had to choose
  between Asia, Africa, and South America; and that our only course
  would be, to check the progress of our car over the country of
  greatest extent, through which the equinoctial circle might pass.
  Saying which, he relapsed into his melancholy silence, and I betook
  myself once more to the telescope. With a bosom throbbing with
  emotion, I saw that we were descending towards the American continent.
  When we were about ten or twelve miles from the earth, the Brahmin
  arrested the progress of the car, and we hovered over the broad
  Atlantic. Looking down on the ocean, the first object which presented
  itself to my eye, was a small one-masted shallop, which was buffetting
  the waves in a south-westerly direction. I presumed it was a
  New-England trader, on a voyage to some part of the Republic of
  Colombia: and, by way of diverting my friend from his melancholy
  reverie, I told him some of the many stories which are current
  respecting the enterprise and ingenuity of this portion of my
  countrymen, and above all, their adroitness at a bargain.
  "'Methinks,' says the Brahmin, 'you are describing a native of Canton
  or Pekin. But,' added he, after a short pause, 'though to a
  superficial observer man appears to put on very different characters,
  to a philosopher he is every where the same--for he is every where
  moulded by the circumstances in which he is placed. Thus; let him be
  in a situation that is propitious to commerce, and the habits of
  traffic produce in him shrewdness and address. Trade is carried on
  chiefly in towns, because it is there carried on most advantageously.
  This situation gives the trader a more intimate knowledge of his
  species--a more ready insight into character, and of the modes of
  operating on it. His chief purpose is to buy as cheap, and to sell as
  dear, as he can; and he is often able to heighten the recommendations
  or soften the defects of some of the articles in which he deals,
  without danger of immediate detection; or, in other words, big
  representations have some influence with his customers. He avails
  himself of this circumstance, and thus acquires the habit of lying;
  but, as he is studious to conceal it, he becomes wary, ingenious, and
  cunning. It is thus that the Phenicians, the Carthagenians, the Dutch,
  the Chinese, the New-Englanders, and the modern Greeks, have always
  been regarded as inclined to petty frauds by their less commercial
  neighbours.' I mentioned the English nation.
  "'If the English,' said he, interrupting me; 'who are the most
  commercial people of modern times, have not acquired the same
  character, it is because they are as distinguished for other things as
  for traffic: they are not merely a commercial people--they are also
  agricultural, warlike, and literary; and thus the natural tendencies
  of commerce are mutually counteracted.'
  "We afterwards descended slowly; the prospect beneath us becoming more
  beautiful than my humble pen can hope to describe, or will even
  attempt to portray. In a short time after, we were in sight of
  Venezuela. We met with the trade winds and were carried by them forty
  or fifty miles inland, where, with some difficulty, and even danger,
  we landed. The Brahmin and myself remained together two days, and
  parted--he to explore the Andes, to obtain additional light on the
  subject of his hypothesis, and I, on the wings of impatience, to visit
  once more my long-deserted family and friends. But before our
  separation, I assisted my friend in concealing our aerial vessel, and
  received a promise from him to visit, and perhaps spend with me the
  evening of his life. Of my journey home, little remains to be said.
  From the citizens of Colombia, I experienced kindness and attention,
  and means of conveyance to Caraccas; where, embarking on board the
  brig Juno, captain Withers, I once more set foot in New-York, on the
  18th of August, 1826, after an absence of four years, resolved, for
  the rest of my life, to travel only in books, and persuaded, from
  experience, that the satisfaction which the wanderer gains from
  actually beholding the wonders and curiosities of distant climes, is
  dearly bought by the sacrifice of all the comforts and delights of
We have thus placed before the reader an analysis of this interesting
Satirical Romance. The time and space we have occupied sufficiently
indicate the favourable sentiments respecting it with which we have
been impressed. Of the execution of the satires, from the several
extracts we have given, the reader will himself be enabled to judge.
This is of course unequal, but generally felicitous. In the personal
allusions which occur through the work, the author exhibits, as we
have before noticed, a freedom from malice and all uncharitableness,
and in many of them has attained that happy _desideratum_ which
Dryden considered a matter of so much difficulty:--
  "How easy is it," he observes, "to call rogue and villain, and that
  wittily! But how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a
  knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms! To spare the
  grossness of the names, and to do the thing yet more severely, is to
  draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet
  not to employ any depth of shadowing. This is the mystery of that
  noble trade, which yet no master can teach to his apprentice; he may
  give the rules, but the scholar is never the nearer in his practice;
  neither is it true, that this fineness of raillery is offensive. A
  witty man is tickled, while he is hurt, in this manner, and a fool
  feels it not: the occasion of an offence may possibly be given, but he
  cannot take it. If it be granted, that, in effect, this way does more
  mischief--that a man is secretly wounded, and, though he be not
  sensible himself, yet the malicious world will find it out for him,
  yet, there is still a vast difference betwixt the slovenly butchering
  of a man, and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head from
  the body, and leaves it standing in its place. A man may be capable,
  as Jack Ketch's wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of work, a
  bare hanging; but to make a malefactor die sweetly, was only belonging
  to her husband."[11]
In conclusion, we must express our regret, that the author should not
have added notes to the work--the want of them will be seriously felt
by every one; some of the satires, indeed, must escape the reader,
unless he pay a degree of attention, which notes would have rendered
unnecessary. In his next edition, we trust that this deficiency may be
supplied; and we anticipate as much instruction and entertainment,
from the wide scope which such an undertaking will afford, as we have
derived from the perusal of the text. Cheerfully would we extend to
him, if required, the leisure claimed by Spenser, after he had
composed the first six books of his "_Faerie Queene_," provided
he would promise us similar conditions:--
    "After so long a race as I have run
      Through Faery Land, which those six books compile,
    Give leave to rest me, being half foredonne,
      And gather to myself new breath awhile;
    "Then, as a steed refreshed after toyle,
      Out of my prison will I break anew,
    And stoutly will that second work assoyle,
      With strong endeavour, and attention due."
       *       *       *       *       *
[APPENDIX FOOTNOTES]
[Footnote 1: Scott's Swift, vol. xi. p. 4]
[Footnote 2: Aristoph. in Pace. 130.]
[Footnote 3: Orlando furioso, Canto xxxiv. St. 68 and 69.]
[Footnote 4: Micromegas, Histoire Philosophique, chap. 8.]
[Footnote 5: Fuller, a learned contemporary of the Bishop, has given
us an amusing case of litigation, originating from this nourishing
character of odours.--
"A poor man, being very hungry, staid so long in a cook's shop, who
was dishing up meat, that his stomach was satisfied with only the
smell thereof. The choleric cook demanded of him to pay for his
breakfast, the poor man denied having had any; and the controversy was
referred to the deciding of the next man that should pass by, who
chanced to be the most notorious idiot in the whole city be, on the
relation of the matter, determined that the poor man's money should be
put betwixt two empty dishes, and the cook should be recompensed with
the jingling of the poor man's money, as he was satisfied with the
smell of the cook's meat."--_Fuller's Holy State_, lib. iii. c.
[Footnote 6: Aristophan. in pace. 137.]
[Footnote 7: The idea of the Glonglims is the author's. Ariosto makes
the lost intellect, of those who become insane upon the earth, ascend
to the moon, where it is kept _bottled_.--
    "Era come un liquor suttile e molle,
    Atto a esalar, se non si tien ben chiuso;
    E si vedea raccolto in varie ampolle,
    Qual piu, qual men capace, atte a quell' uso."
                  _Orlando furioso_, Cant. 34. St. 83.]
[Footnote 8: Our author might also have alluded to the old apology for
every thing inane or contemptible--"It is a tale of the man in the
moon." When that arch flatterer, John Lylie, published (in 1591) his
"_Endymion_, or _the man in the moon_"--a _court comedy_, as it
was afterwards called; in other words, intended for the gratification
of Queen Elizabeth, and in which her personal charms and attractions
are grossly lauded--he pleads guilty to its defect in plot, in the
following exquisite apologetic prologue:--
"Most high and happy Princess, we must tell you a tale of the man in
the moon; which, if it seem ridiculous for the method, or superfluous
for the matter, or for the means incredible, for three faults we can
make but one excuse,--it is a tale of the man of the moon."
"It was forbidden in old time to dispute of Chymera, because it was a
fiction: we hope in our times none will apply pastimes, because they
are fancies: for there liveth none under the sun that knows what to
make of the man in the moon. We present neither comedy, nor tragedy,
nor story, nor any thing, but that whosoever heareth may say this:--
'Why, here is a tale of the man in the moon.' Yet this is the man
designated by Blount, who re-published his plays in 1632, as the '_only
rare poet of that time, the witie, comicall, facetiously-quicke, and
unparallel'd John Lylie, Master of Arts!'"]
[Footnote 9: It is to be regretted that the author has not followed
the good example set him by Johnson, in his _Debates in the Senate
of Magna Lilliputia_, published in the Gentlemen's Magazine for
1738: the denominations of the speakers being formed of the letters of
their real names, so that they might be easily deciphered. This
neglect has obscured many of the author's most interesting satires.
Who could suppose from the letters alone, that _Wigurd_, _Vindar_,
and _Avarabet_, were respectively intended for _Godwin_, _Darwin_,
and _Lavater_?]
[Footnote 10: It is a curious circumstance, that Swift, in his
description of the Academy of Lagado, should have so completely
anticipated the Pestalozzian invention.]
[Footnote 11: Dryden's Essay on Satire]
LA FIAMMETTA
GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO
TRANSLATED BY JAMES C. BROGAN
INTRODUCTION
Youth, beauty, and love, wit, gayety and laughter, are the component
parts of the delightful picture conjured up by the mere name of Giovanni
Boccaccio, the prince of story-tellers for all generations of men. This
creator of a real literary epoch was born in Paris, in 1313, (in the
eleventh year of Dante's exile), of an Italian father and a French-woman
of good family. His father was a merchant of Florence, whither he
returned with his son when the child was seven years old. The boy
received some education, but was placed in a counting-house when he was
only thirteen, and at seventeen he was sent by his father to Naples to
enter another commercial establishment. But he disliked commerce, and
finally persuaded his father to allow him to study law for two years at
the University of Naples, during which period the lively and attractive
youth made brisk use of his leisure time in that gay and romantic city,
where he made his way into the highest circles of society, and
unconsciously gleaned the material for the rich harvest of song and
story that came with his later years. At this time he was present at the
coronation of the poet Petrarch in the Capitol, and was fired with
admiration for the second greatest poet of that day. He chose Petrarch
for his model and guide, and in riper manhood became his most intimate
By the time he was twenty-five, Boccaccio had fallen in love with the
Lady Maria, a natural daughter of King Robert of Naples, who had caused
her to be adopted as a member of the family of the Count d'Aquino, and
to be married when very young to a Neapolitan nobleman. Boccaccio first
saw her in the Church of San Lorenzo on the morning of Easter eve, in
1338, and their ensuing friendship was no secret to their world. For the
entertainment of this youthful beauty he wrote his _Filicopo_, and the
fair Maria is undoubtedly the heroine of several of his stories and
poems. His father insisted upon his return to Florence in 1340, and
after he had settled in that city he occupied himself seriously with
literary work, producing, between the years 1343 and 1355, the _Teseide_
(familiar to English readers as "The Knight's Tale" in Chaucer,
modernized by Dryden as "Palamon and Arcite"), _Ameto, Amorosa Visione,
La Fiammetta, Ninfale Fiesolona_, and his most famous work, the
_Decameron_, a collection of stories written, it is said, to amuse Queen
Joanna of Naples and her court, during the period when one of the
world's greatest plagues swept over Europe in 1348. In these years he
rose from the vivid but confused and exaggerated manner of _Filocopo_ to
the perfection of polished literary style. The _Decameron_ fully
revealed his genius, his ability to weave the tales of all lands and all
ages into one harmonious whole; from the confused mass of legends of the
Middle Ages, he evolved a world of human interest and dazzling beauty,
fixed the kaleidoscopic picture of Italian society, and set it in the
richest frame of romance.
While he had the _Decameron_ still in hand, he paused in that great
work, with heart full of passionate longing for the lady of his love,
far away in Naples, to pour out his very soul in _La Fiammetta_, the
name by which he always called the Lady Maria. Of the real character of
this lady, so famous in literature, and her true relations with
Boccaccio, little that is certain is known. In several of his poems and
in the _Decameron_ he alludes to her as being cold as a marble statue,
which no fire can ever warm; and there is no proof, notwithstanding the
ardor of Fiammetta as portrayed by her lover--who no doubt wished her to
become the reality of his glowing picture--that he ever really received
from the charmer whose name was always on his lips anything more than
the friendship that was apparent to all the world. But she certainly
inspired him in the writing of his best works.
The best critics agree in pronouncing _La Fiammetta_ a marvelous
performance. John Addington Symonds says: "It is the first attempt in
any literature to portray subjective emotion exterior to the writer;
since the days of Virgil and Ovid, nothing had been essayed in this
region of mental analysis. The author of this extraordinary work proved
himself a profound anatomist of feeling by the subtlety with which he
dissected a woman's heart." The story is full of exquisite passages, and
it exercised a widespread and lasting influence over all the narrative
literature that followed it. It is so rich in material that it furnished
the motives of many tales, and the novelists of the sixteenth century
availed themselves freely of its suggestions.
After Boccaccio had taken up a permanent residence in Florence, he
showed a lively interest in her political affairs, and fulfilled all
the duties of a good citizen. In 1350 he was chosen to visit the lords
of various towns of Romagna, in order to engage their cooperation in a
league against the Visconti family, who, already lords of the great and
powerful city of Milan, desired to extend their domains beyond the
Apennines. In 1351 Boccaccio had the pleasure of bearing to the poet
Petrarch the news of the restoration of his rights of citizenship and of
his patrimony, both of which he had lost in the troubles of 1323, and
during this visit the two geniuses became friends for life. They delved
together into the literature of the ancients, and Boccaccio determined,
through the medium of translation, to make the work of the great Greek
writers a part of the liberal education of his countrymen. A knowledge
of Greek at that time was an exceedingly rare accomplishment, since the
serious study of living literatures was only just beginning, and the
Greek of Homer had been almost forgotten. Even Petrarch, whose erudition
was marvelous, could not read a copy of the _Iliad_ that he possessed.
Boccaccio asked permission of the Florentine Government to establish a
Greek professorship in the University of Florence, and persuaded a
learned Calabrian, Leonzio Pilato, who had a perfect knowledge of
ancient Greek, to leave Venice and accept the professorship at Florence,
and lodged him in his own house. Together the Calabrian and the author
of _La Fiammetta_ and the _Decameron_ made a Latin translation of the
_Iliad_, which Boccaccio transcribed with his own hand. But his literary
enthusiasm was not confined to his own work and that of the ancients.
His soul was filled with a generous ardor of admiration for Dante;
through his efforts the Florentines were awakened to a true sense of the
merits of the sublime poet, so long exiled from his native city, and the
younger genius succeeded in persuading them to establish a professorship
in the University for the sole study of the _Divine Comedy_, he himself
being the first to occupy the chair, and writing a _Life of Dante_,
besides commentaries on the _Comedy_ itself.
Mainly through his intimacy with the spiritual mind of Petrarch,
Boccaccio's moral character gradually underwent a change from the
reckless freedom and unbridled love of pleasure into which he had easily
fallen among his associates in the court life at Naples. He admired the
delicacy and high standard of honor of his friend, and became awakened
to a sense of man's duty to the world and to himself. During the decade
following the year 1365 he occupied himself at his home in Certaldo,
near Florence, with various literary labors, often entertaining there
the great men of the world.
Petrarch's death occurred in 1374, and Boccaccio survived him but one
year, dying on the twenty-first of December, 1375. He was buried in
Certaldo, in the Church of San Michele e Giacomo.
That one city should have produced three such men as the great
triumvirate of the fourteenth century--Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio--and
that one half-century should have witnessed their successive triumphs,
is the greatest glory of Florence, and is one of the most notable facts
in the history of genius.
We quote once more from Symonds: "Dante brought the universe into his
_Divine Comedy_. 'But the soul of man, too, is a universe', and of this
inner microcosm Petrarch was the poet and genius. It remained for
Boccaccio to treat of daily life with an art as distinct and dazzling as
theirs. From Dante's Beatrice, through Petrarch's Laura, to Boccaccio's
La Fiammetta--from woman as an allegory of the noblest thoughts and
purest stirrings of the soul, through woman as the symbol of all beauty
worshiped at a distance, to woman as man's lover, kindling and
reciprocating the most ardent passion; from mystic, stately periods to
Protean prose; from verse built up into cathedral-like dignity, through
lyrics light as arabesques and pointed with the steely touch of polished
style, to that free form of speech which takes all moods and lends
itself alike to low or lofty things--such was the rapid movement of
Italian genius within the brief space of fifty years. So quickly did the
Renaissance emerge from the Middle Ages; and when the voices of that
august trio were silenced in the grave, their echoes ever widened and
grew louder through the spacious time to come."
No translation into English of _La Fiammetta_ has been made since
Shakespeare's time--when a small edition was published, which is now so
rare as to be practically unattainable--until the appearance of the
present Scholarly and poetic rendering, which places within the reach of
all one of the world's greatest masterpieces of literature.
_Beginneth the Book called Elegy of Madonna Fiammetta, sent by her to
Ladies in Love._
When the wretched perceive or feel that their woes arouse compassion,
their longing to give vent to their anguish is thereby increased. And
so, since, from long usance, the cause of my anguish, instead of growing
less, has become greater, the wish has come to me, noble ladies--in
whose hearts, mayhap, abides a love more fortunate than mine--to win
your pity, if I may, by telling the tale of my sorrows. Nor is it at all
my intent that these my words should come to the ears of men. Nay,
rather would I, so far as lies in my power, withhold my complaints from
them; for, such bitterness has the discovery of the unkindness of one
man stirred in me, that, imagining all other men to be like him,
methinks I should be a witness of their mocking laughter rather than of
their pitying tears. You alone do I entreat to peruse my story, knowing
full well that you will feel with me, and that you have a pious concern
for others' pangs. Here you will not find Grecian fables adorned with
many lies, nor Trojan battles, foul with blood and gore, but amorous
sentiments fed with torturing desires. Here will appear before your very
eyes the dolorous tears, the impetuous sighs, the heart-breaking words,
the stormy thoughts, which have harrowed me with an ever-recurring goad,
and have torn away from me sleep and appetite and the pleasant times of
old, and my much-loved beauty. When you behold these things, and behold
them with the ardent feelings which ladies are wont to have, sure I am
that the cheeks of each separately, and of all when brought together,
will be bathed in tears, because of those ills which are alone the
occasion of my never-ending misery. Do not, I beseech you, refuse me
these tears, reflecting that your estate is unstable as well as mine,
and that, should it ever come to resemble mine (the which may God
forfend!), the tears that others shed for you will be pleasing to you in
return. And that the time may pass more rapidly in speaking than in,
weeping, I will do my best to fulfil my promise briefly, beginning with
that love which was more happy than lasting, so that, by comparing that
happiness with my present case, you may learn that I am now more unhappy
than any woman ever has been. And afterward I will trace with mournful
pen, as best I can, all the agonies which are justly the source of my
lamentations. But first, if the prayers of the wretched are heard, if
there is in Heaven any Deity whose holy mind can be touched with
compassion for me, afflicted as I am, bathed in my own tears, Him I
beseech to aid my despondent memory and support my trembling hand in its
present task. So may the tortures which I have felt and still feel in my
soul become fruitful, and the memory will suggest the words for them,
and the hand, more eager than apt for such duty, will write them down.
_Wherein the lady describes who she was, and by what signs her
misfortunes were foreshadowed, and at what time, and where, and in what
manner, and of whom she became enamored, with the description of the
ensuing delight._
In the time when the newly-vestured earth appears more lovely than
during all the rest of the year came I into the world, begotten of noble
parents and born amid the unstinted gifts of benignant fortune. Accursed
be the day, to me more hateful than any other, on which I was born! Oh,
how far more befitting would it have been had I never been born, or had
I been carried from that luckless womb to my grave, or had I possessed a
life not longer than that of the teeth sown by Cadmus, or had Atropos
cut the thread of my existence at the very hour when it had begun! Then,
in earliest childhood would have been entombed the limitless woes that
are the melancholy occasion of that which I am writing. But what boots
it to complain of this now? I am here, beyond doubt; and it has pleased
and even now pleases God that I should be here. Born and reared, then,
amid boundless affluence, I learned under a venerable mistress whatever
manners and refinements it beseems a demoiselle of high rank to know.
And as my person grew and developed with my increasing years, so also
grew and developed my beauty. Alas! even while a child, on hearing that
beauty acclaimed of many, I gloried therein, and cultivated it by
ingenious care and art. And when I had bidden farewell to childhood, and
had attained a riper age, I soon discovered that this, my beauty
--ill-fated gift for one who desires to live virtuously!--had power to
kindle amorous sparks in youths of my own age, and other noble persons
as well, being instructed thereupon by nature, and feeling that love can
be quickened in young men by beauteous ladies. And by divers looks and
actions, the sense of which I did but dimly discern at the time, did
these youths endeavor in numberless ways to kindle in my heart the fire
wherewith their own hearts glowed--fire that was destined, not to warm,
but rather to consume me also in the future more than it ever has burned
another woman; and by many of these young men was I sought in marriage
with most fervid and passionate entreaty. But after I had chosen among
them one who was in every respect congenial to me, this importunate
crowd of suitors, being now almost hopeless, ceased to trouble me with
their looks and attentions. I, therefore, being satisfied, as was meet,
with such a husband, lived most happily, so long as fervid love, lighted
by flames hitherto unfelt, found no entrance into my young soul. Alas! I
had no wish unsatisfied; nothing that could please me or any other lady
ever was denied me, even for a moment. I was the sole delight, the
peculiar felicity of a youthful spouse, and, just as he loved me, so did
I equally love him. Oh, how much happier should I have been than all
other women, if the love for him that was then in my heart had endured!
It was, then, while I was living in sweet content, amid every kind of
enjoyment, that Fortune, who quickly changes all things earthly,
becoming envious of the very gifts which she herself had bestowed,
withdrew her protecting hand. At first uncertain in what manner she
could succeed in poisoning my happiness, she at length managed, with
subtle craft, to make mine own very eyes traitors and so guide me into
the path that led to disaster. But the gods were still propitious to me,
nay, were even more concerned for my fate than I myself. Having seen
through her veiled malice, they wished to supply me with weapons, had I
but known how to avail me thereof, wherewith I might fend my breast,
and not go unarmed to the battle wherein I was destined to fall. Yea, on
the very night that preceded the day which was the beginning of all my
woes, they revealed to me the future in my sleep by means of a clear and
distinct vision, in such wise as follows:
While lying on my spacious couch, with all my limbs relaxed in deepest
slumber, I seemed to be filled with greater joy than I had ever felt
before, and wherefore I knew not. And the day whereon this happened was
the brightest and loveliest of days. I was standing alone in verdant
grass, when, with the joy whereof I spoke, came the thought to me that
it might be well for me to repose in a meadow that appeared to be
shielded from the fervid rays of the sun by the shadows cast by various
trees newly garbed in their glossy foliage. But first, gathering divers
flowers, wherewith the whole sward was bejeweled, I placed them, with my
white hands, in a corner of my robe, and then, sitting down and choosing
flower after flower, I wove therefrom a fair garland, and adorned my
head with it. And, being so adorned, I arose, and, like unto Proserpine
at what time Pluto ravished her from her mother, I went along singing in
this new springtime. Then, being perchance weary, I laid me down in a
spot where the verdure was deepest and softest. But, just as the tender
foot of Eurydice was pierced by the concealed viper, so meseemed that a
hidden serpent came upon me, as I lay stretched on the grass, and
pierced me under the left breast. The bite of the sharp fang, when it
first entered, seemed to burn me. But afterward, feeling somewhat
reassured, and yet afraid of something worse ensuing, I thought I
clasped the cold serpent to my bosom, fancying that by communicating to
it the warmth of that bosom, I should thereby render it more kindly
disposed in my regard in return for such a service. But the viper, made
bolder and more obdurate by that very favor, laid his hideous mouth on
the wound he had given me, and after a long space, and after it had
drunk much of my blood, methought that, despite my resistance, it drew
forth my soul; and then, leaving my breast, departed with it. And at the
very moment of the serpent's departure the day lost its brightness, and
a thick shadow came behind me and covered me all over, and the farther
the serpent crept, the more lowering grew the heavens, and it seemed
almost as if the reptile dragged after it in its course the masses of
thick, black clouds that appeared to follow in its wake, Not long
afterward, just as a white stone flung into deep water gradually
vanishes from the eyes of the beholder, so it, too, vanished from my
sight. Then the heavens became darker and darker, and I thought that the
sun had suddenly withdrawn and night had surely returned, as it had
erstwhile returned to the _Greeks_ because of the crime of Atrcus. Next,
flashes of lightning sped swiftly along the skies, and peals of crashing
thunder appalled the earth and me likewise. And through all, the wound
made in my breast by the bite of the serpent remained with me still, and
full of viperous poison; for no medicinal help was within my reach, so
that my entire body appeared to have swollen in a most foul and
disgusting manner. Whereupon I, who before this seemed to be without
life or motion--why, I do not know--feeling that the force of the venom
was seeking to reach my heart in divers subtle ways, now tossed and
rolled upon the cool grass, expecting death at any moment. But methought
that when the hour of my doom arrived, I was struck with terror at its
approach, and the anguish of my heart was so appalling, while looking
forward to its coming, that my inert body was convulsed with horror, and
so my deep slumber was suddenly broken. No sooner was I fully awake
than, being still alarmed by the things I had seen, I felt with my right
hand for the wound in my breast, searching at the present moment for
that which was already being prepared for my future misery. Finding that
no wound was there, I began to feel quite safe and even merry, and I
made a mock of the folly of dreams and of those who believe in them,
and so I rendered the work of the gods useless. Ah, wretched me! if I
mocked them then, I had good reason to believe in them afterward, to my
bitter sorrow and with the shedding of useless tears; good reason had I
also to complain of the gods, who reveal their secrets to mortals in
such mystic guise that the things that are to happen in the future can
hardly be said to be revealed at all. Being then fully awake, I raised
my drowsy head, and, as soon as I saw the light of the new-risen sun
enter my chamber, laying aside every other thought directly, I at once
left my couch.
That day, too, was a day of the utmost solemnity for almost everyone.
Therefore, attiring myself carefully in glittering cloth of gold, and
adorning every part of my person with deft and cunning hand, I made
ready to go to the August festival, appareled like unto the goddesses
seen by Paris in the vale of Ida. And, while I was lost in admiration of
myself, just as the peacock is of his plumage, imagining that the
delight which I took in my own appearance would surely be shared by all
who saw me, a flower from my wreath fell on the ground near the curtain
of my bed, I know not wherefore--perhaps plucked from my head by a
celestial hand by me unseen. But I, careless of the occult signs by
which the gods forewarn mortals, picked it up, replaced it on my head,
and, as if nothing portentous had happened, I passed out from my abode.
Alas! what clearer token of what was to befall me could the gods have
given me? This should have served to prefigure to me that my soul, once
free and sovereign of itself, was on that day to lay aside its
sovereignty and become a slave, as it betided. Oh, if my mind had not
been distempered, I should have surely known that to me that day would
be the blackest and direst of days, and I should have let it pass
without ever crossing the threshold of my home! But although the gods
usually hold forth signs whereby those against whom they are incensed
may be warned, they often deprive them of due understanding; and thus,
while pointing out the path they ought to follow, they at the same time
sate their own anger. My ill fortune, then, thrust me forth from my
house, vain and careless that I was; and, accompanied by several ladies,
I moved with slow step to the sacred temple, in which the solemn
function required by the day was already celebrating. Ancient custom, as
well as my noble estate, had reserved for me a prominent place among the
other ladies. When I was seated, my eyes, as was my habit of old,
quickly wandered around the temple, and I saw that it was crowded with
men and women, who were divided into separate groups. And no sooner was
it observed that I was in the temple than (even while the sacred office
was going on) that happened which had always happened at other times,
and not only did the men turn their eyes to gaze upon me, but the women
did the same, as if Venus or Minerva had newly descended from the skies,
and would never again be seen by them in that spot where I was seated.
Oh, how often I laughed within my own breast, being enraptured with
myself, and taking glory unto myself because of such things, just as if
I were a real goddess! And so, nearly all the young gentlemen left off
admiring the other ladies, and took their station around me, and
straightway encompassed me almost in the form of a complete circle; and,
while speaking in divers ways of my beauty, each finished his praises
thereof with well-nigh the same sentences. But I who, by turning my eyes
in another direction, showed that my mind was intent on other cares,
kept my ears attentive to their discourse and received therefrom much
delectable sweetness; and, as it seemed to me that I was beholden to
them for such pleasure, I sometimes let my eyes rest on them more kindly
and benignantly. And not once, but many times, did I perceive that some
of them, puffed up with vain hopes because of this, boasted foolishly of
it to their companions.
While I, then, in this way looked at a few, and that sparingly, I was
myself looked at by many, and that exceedingly, and while I believed
that my beauty was dazzling others, it came to pass that the beauty of
another dazzled me, to my great tribulation. And now, being already
close on the dolorous moment, which was fated to be the occasion either
of a most assured death or of a life of such anguish that none before me
has ever endured the like, prompted by I know not what spirit, I raised
my eyes with decent gravity, and surveyed with penetrating look the
crowds of young men who were standing near me. And I discerned, more
plainly than I saw any of the others, a youth who stood directly in
front of me, all alone, leaning against a marble column; and, being
moved thereto by irresistible fate, I began to take thought within my
mind of his bearing and manners, the which I had never before done in
the case of anyone else. I say, then, that, according to my judgment,
which was not at that time biased by love, he was most beautiful in
form, most pleasing in deportment, and apparently of an honorable
disposition. The soft and silky locks that fell in graceful curls beside
his cheeks afforded manifest proof of his youthfulness. The look
wherewith he eyed me seemed to beg for pity, and yet it was marked by
the wariness and circumspection usual between man and man. Sure I am
that I had still strength enough to turn away my eyes from his gaze, at
least for a time; but no other occurrence had power to divert my
attention from the things already mentioned, and upon which I had deeply
pondered. And the image of his form, which was already in my mind,
remained there, and this image I dwelt upon with silent delight,
affirming within myself that those things were true which seemed to me
to be true; and, pleased that he should look at me, I raised my eyes
betimes to see whether he was still looking at me. But anon I gazed at
him more steadily, making no attempt to avoid amorous snares. And when I
had fixed my eyes on his more intently than was my wont, methought I
could read in his eyes words which might be uttered in this wise:
  "O lady, thou alone art mine only bliss!"
Certainly, if I should say that this idea was not pleasing to me, I
should surely lie, for it drew forth a gentle sigh from my bosom,
accompanied by these words: "And thou art mine!" unless, perchance, the
words were but the echo of his, caught by my mind and remaining within
it. But what availed it whether such words were spoken or not? The heart
had good understanding within itself of that which was not expressed by
the lips, and kept, too, within itself that which, if it had escaped
outside, might, mayhap, have left me still free. And so, from that time
forward, I gave more absolute liberty to my foolish eyes than ever they
had possessed before, and they were well content withal. And surely, if
the gods, who guide all things to a definite issue, had not deprived me
of understanding, I could still have been mistress of myself. But,
postponing every consideration to the last one that swayed me, I took
delight in following my unruly passion, and having made myself meet, all
at once, for such slavery, I became its thrall. For the fire that leaped
forth from his eyes encountered the light in mine, flashing thereunto a
most subtle ray. It did not remain content therewith, but, by what
hidden ways I know not, penetrated directly into the deepest recesses of
my heart; the which, affrighted by the sudden advent of this flame,
recalled to its center its exterior forces and left me as pale as
death, and also with the chill of death upon me. But not for long did
this continue, rather it happened contrariwise; and I felt my heart not
only glow with sudden beat, but its forces speeded back swiftly to their
places, bringing with them a throbbing warmth that chased away my pallor
and flushed my cheeks deeply; and, marveling wherefore this should
betide, I sighed heavily; nor thereafter was there other thought in my
soul than how I might please him.
In like fashion, he, without changing his place, continued to scrutinize
my features, but with the greatest caution; and, perhaps, having had
much practice in amorous warfare, and knowing by what devices the
longed-for prey might be captured, he showed himself every moment more
humble, more desperate, and more fraught with tender yearning. Alas! how
much guile did that seeming desperation hide, which, as the result has
now shown, though it may have come from the heart, never afterward
returned to the same, and made manifest later that its revealment on the
face was only a lure and a delusion! And, not to mention all his deeds,
each of which was full of most artful deception, he so wrought upon me
by his own craft, or else the fates willed it should so happen, that I
straightway found myself enmeshed in the snares of sudden and
unthought-of love, in a manner beyond all my powers of telling, and so I
remain unto this very hour.
It was this one alone, therefore, most pitiful ladies, that my heart, in
it mad infatuation, chose, not only among so many high-born, handsome
and valiant youths then present, but even among all of the same degree
having their abode in my own Parthenope, as first and last and sole lord
of my life. It was this one alone that I loved, and loved more than any
other. It was this one alone that was destined to be the beginning and
source of my by any pleasure, although often tempted, being at last
vanquished, have burned and now burn in the fire which then first caught
me. Omitting many thoughts that came into my mind, and many things that
were told me, I will only say that, intoxicated by a new passion, I
returned with a soul enslaved to that spot whence I had gone forth in
When I was in my chamber, alone and unoccupied, inflamed with various
wild wishes, filled with new sensations and throbbing with many
anxieties, all of which were concentrated on the image of the youth who
pleased me, I argued within myself that if I could not banish love from
my luckless bosom, I might at least be able to keep cautious and secret
control of it therein; and how hard it is to do such a thing, no one can
discover who does not make trial of the same. Surely do I believe that
not even Love himself can cause so great anguish as such an attempt is
certain to produce. Furthermore, I was arrested in my purpose by the
fact that I had no acquaintance with him of whom I professed myself
enamored. To relate all the thoughts that were engendered in me by this
love, and of what nature they were, would take altogether too much time.
But some few I must perforce declare, as well as certain things that
were beginning to delight me more than usual. I say, then, that,
everything else being neglected, the only thing that was dear to me was
the thought of my beloved, and, when it occurred to my mind that, by
persevering in this course, I might, mayhap, give occasion to some one
to discover that which I wished to conceal, I often upbraided myself for
my folly. But what availed it all? My upbraidings had to give way to my
inordinate yearning for him, and dissolved uselessly into thin air.
For several days I longed exceedingly to learn who was the youth I
loved, toward whom my thoughts were ever clearly leading me; and this I
craftily learned, the which filled me with great content. In like
manner, the ornaments for which I had before this in no way cared, as
having but little need thereof, began to be dear to me, thinking that
the more I was adorned the better should I please. Wherefore I prized
more than hitherto my garments, gold, pearls, and my other precious
things. Until the present moment it had been my custom to frequent
churches, gardens, festivals, and seaside resorts, without other wish
than the companionship of young friends of my own sex; now, I sought the
aforesaid places with a new desire, believing that both to see and be
seen would bring me great delectation. But, in sooth, the trust which I
was wont to place in my beauty had deserted me, and now I never left my
chamber, without first seeking the faithful counsel of my mirror: and my
hands, newly instructed thereunto by I know not what cunning master,
discovering each day some more elegant mode of adornment than the day
before, and deftly adding artificial charms to my natural loveliness,
thereby caused me to outshine all the other ladies in my surpassing
splendor. Furthermore, I began to wish for the honors usually paid to me
by ladies, because of their gracious courtesy, though, perhaps, they
were rather the guerdon of my noble birth, being due to me therefor,
thinking that if I appeared so magnificent to my beloved's eyes, he
would take the more delight in beholding me. Avarice, too, which is
inborn in women, fled from me, so that I became free and openhanded, and
regarded my own possessions almost as if they were not my own. The
sedateness that beseems a woman fell away from me somewhat, and I grew
bolder in my ways; and, in addition to all this, my eyes, which until
that day looked out on the world simply and naturally, entirely changed
their manner of looking, and became so artful in their office that it
was a marvel. And many other alterations appeared in me over and above
these, all of which I do not care to relate, for besides that the
report thereof would be too tedious, I ween full well that you, like me,
also have been, or are, in love, and know what changes take place in
those who are in such sad case.
He was a most wary and circumspect youth, whereunto my experience was
able to bear witness frequently. Going very rarely, and always in the
most decorous manner, to the places where I happened to be, he used to
observe me, but ever with a cautious eye, so that it seemed as if he had
planned as well as I to hide the tender flames that glowed in the
breasts of both. Certainly, if I denied that love, although it had
clutched every corner of my heart and taken violent possession of every
recess of my soul, grew even more intense whenever it happened that my
eyes encountered his, I should deny the truth; he added further fuel to
the fires that consumed me, and rekindled such as might be expiring, if,
mayhap, there were any such. But the beginning of all this was by no
means so cheerful as the ending was joyless, as soon as I was deprived
of the sight of this, my beloved, inasmuch as the eyes, being thus
robbed of their delight, gave woful occasion of lamentation to the
heart, the sighs whereof grew greater in quality as well as in quantity,
and desire, as if seizing my every feeling, took me away from myself,
and, as if I were not where I was, I frequently gave him who saw me
cause for amazement by affording numberless pretexts for such
happenings, being taught by love itself. In addition to this, the quiet
of the night and the thoughts on which my fancy fed continuously, by
taking me out of myself, sometimes moved me to actions more frantic than
passionate and to the employment of unusual words.
But it happened that while my excess of ornaments, heartfelt sighs, lost
rest, strange actions, frantic movements, and other effects of my recent
love, attracted the notice of the other domestics of the household, they
especially struck with wonder a nurse of mine, old in years and
experienced, and of sound judgment, who, though well aware of the flames
that tortured my breast, yet making show of not knowing thereof,
frequently chided me for my altered manners. One day in particular,
finding me lying disconsolate on my couch, seeing that my brow was
charged with doleful thoughts, and believing that we were not likely to
be interrupted by other company, she began to speak as follows:
"My dearest daughter, whom I love as my very self, tell me, I pray you,
what are the sorrows that have for some time past been harassing you?
You who were wont to be so gay formerly, you whom I have never seen
before with a mournful countenance, seem to me now to be the prey of
grief and to let no moment pass without a sigh."
Then, having at first feigned to be asleep and not to have heard her, I
heaved a deep sigh, and, my face, at one time flushing, at another
turning pale, I tossed about on the couch, seeking what answer I should
make, though, indeed, in my agitation, my tongue could hardly shape a
perfect sentence. But, at length, I answered:
"Indeed, dear nurse, no fresh sorrows harass me; nor do I feel that I am
in any way different from what I am wont to be. Perhaps some troubles I
may have, but they are such as are incidental to all women."
"Most certainly, you are trying to deceive me, my child," returned the
aged nurse, "and you seem not to reflect how serious a matter it is to
attempt to lead persons of experience to believe one thing because it is
couched in words and to disbelieve the opposite, although it is made
plainly evident by deeds. There is no reason why you should hide from me
a fact whereof I have had perfect knowledge since several days ago."
Alas! when I heard her speak thus, provoked and stung by her words, I
"If, then, thou wittest of all this, wherefore dost thou question me?
All that thou hast to do now is to keep secret that which thou hast
discovered."
"In good truth," she replied, "I will conceal all that which it is not
meet that another should know, and may the earth open and engulf me in
its bowels before I ever reveal aught that might turn to thy open shame!
Therefore, do thou live assured of this, and guard thyself carefully
from letting another know that which I, without either thyself or anyone
else telling me, have learned from observing thy looks. As for myself,
it is not now, but long ere now, that I have learned to keep hidden that
which should not be disclosed. Therefore, do thou continue to feel
secure as to this matter, and watch most carefully that thou lettest not
another know that which I, not witting it from thee or from another,
most surely have discovered from thine own face and from its changeful
seeming. But, if thou art still the victim of that folly by which I know
thou hast been enslaved, if thou art as prone now as erewhile to indulge
that feeling to which thou hast already given way, then know I right
well that I must leave thee to thy own devices, for bootless will be my
teachings and my warnings. Still, although this cruel tyrant, to whom in
thy youthful simplicity being taken by surprise thou hast yielded thy
freedom, appears to have deprived thee of understanding as well as of
liberty, I will put thee in mind of many things, and entreat thee to
fling off and banish wicked thoughts from thy chaste bosom, to quench
that unholy fire, and not to make thyself the thrall of unworthy hopes.
Now is the time to be strong in resistance; for whoso makes a stout
fight in the beginning roots out an unhallowed affection, and bears
securely the palm of victory; but whoso, with long and wishful fancies,
fosters it, will try too late to resist a yoke that has been submitted
to almost unresistingly."
"Alas!" I replied, "how far easier it is to say such things than to
lead them to any good result."
"Albeit they be not easy of fulfilment," she said, "yet are they
possible, and they are things that it beseems you to do. Take thou
thought whether it would be fitting that for such a thing as this thou
shouldst lose the luster of thy exalted parentage, the great fame of thy
virtue, the flower of thy beauty, the honor in which thou art now held,
and, above all, the favor of the spouse whom thou hast loved and by whom
thou art loved: certainly, thou shouldst not wish for this; nor do I
believe thou wouldst wish it, if thou didst but weigh the matter
seriously in thine own mind. Wherefore, in the name of God, forbear, and
drive from thy heart the false delights promised by a guilty hope, and,
with them, the madness that has seized thee. By this aged breast, long
harassed by many cares, from which thou didst take thy first nutriment,
I humbly beseech thee to have the courage to aid thyself, to have a
concern for thine own honor, and not to disdain my warnings. Bethink
thee that the very desire to be healed is itself often productive of
Whereto I thus made answer:
"Only too well do I know, dear nurse, the truth of that which thou
sayest. But a furious madness constrains me to follow the worse course;
vainly does my heart, insatiable in its desires, long for strength to
enable it to adopt thy advice; what reason enjoins is rendered of no
avail by this soul-subduing passion. My mind is wholly possessed by
Love, who rules every part thereof, in virtue of his all-embracing
deity; and surely thou art aware that his power is absolute, and 'twere
useless to attempt to resist it."
Having said these words, I became almost unconscious, and fell into her
arms. But she, now more agitated than before, in austere and rebuking
tones, said:
"Yes, forsooth, well am I aware that you and a number of fond young
women, inflamed and instigated thereunto by vain thoughts, have
discovered Love to be a god, whereas a juster name for him would be that
of demon; and you and they call him the son of Venus, and say that his
strength has come to him from the third heaven, wishing, seemingly, to
offer necessity as an excuse for your foolishness. Oh, was ever woman so
misled as thou? Truly, thou must be bereft entirely of understanding!
What a thing thou sayest! Love a deity! Love is a madness, thrust forth
from hell by some fury. He speeds across the earth in hasty flight, and
they whom he visits soon discover that he brings no deity with him, but
frenzy rather; yet none will he visit except those abounding overmuch in
earthly felicity; for they, he knows, in their overweening conceit, are
ready to afford him lodgment and shelter. This has been proven to us by
many facts. Do we not see that Venus, the true, the heavenly Venus,
often dwells in the humblest cot, her sole concern being the
perpetuation of our race? But this god, whom some in their folly name
Love, always hankering after things unholy, ministers only to those
whose fortunes are prosperous. This one, recoiling from those whose food
and raiment suffice to meet the demands of nature, uses his best efforts
to win over the pampered and the splendidly attired, and with their food
and their habiliments he mixes his poisons, and so gains the lordship of
their wicked souls; and, for this reason, he gladly seeks a harborage in
lofty palaces, and seldom, or rather never, enters the houses of the
lowly, because this horrible plague always resorts by choice to scenes
of elegance and refinement, well knowing that such places are best
fitted for the achievement of his fell purposes. It is easy for us to
see that among the humble the affections are sane and well ordered; but
the rich, on the other hand, everywhere pluming themselves on their
riches, and being insatiable in their pursuit of other things as well as
of wealth, always show more eagerness therein than is becoming; and they
who can do much desire furthermore to have the power of doing that which
they must not do: among whom I feel that thou hast placed thyself, O
most hapless of women, seeing that thou hast already entered and
traveled far on a path that will surely lead to guilt and misery."
After hearing which, I said:
"Be silent, old woman, and provoke not the wrath of the gods by thy
speech. Now that thou art incapacitated from love by age and rejected by
all the gods, thou railest against this one, blaspheming him in whom
thou didst erstwhile take delight. If other ladies, far more puissant,
famous, and wise than I, have formerly called him by that name, it is
not in my power to give him a name anew. By him am I now truly enslaved;
whatever be the cause of this, and whether it be the occasion of my
happiness or misery, I am helpless. The strength wherewith I once
opposed him has been vanquished and has abandoned me. Therefore either
death or the youth for whom I languish can alone end my tortures. If
thou art, then, as wise as I hold thee to be, bestow such counsel and
help on me as may lighten my anguish, or, at least, abstain from
exasperating it by censuring that to which my soul, unable to act
differently, is inclined with all its energy."
Thereupon, she, being angry, and not without reason, making no answer,
but muttering to herself, passed out of the chamber and left me alone.
When my dear nurse had departed without making further discourse, and I
was again alone, I felt that I had acted ill in despising her advice. I
revolved her sayings within my restless breast; and, albeit my
understanding was blinded, I perceived that what she had said was
replete with wisdom, and, almost repenting of what I had uttered and of
the course which I had declared I purposed taking, I was wavering in my
mind. And, already beginning to have thoughts of abandoning that course
which was sure to be in every way most harmful, I was about to call her
back to give me encouragement, when a new and unforeseen event suddenly
changed my intention. For a most beautiful lady, come to my private
chamber I know not whence, presented herself before my eyes, enveloped
in such dazzling light that scarcely could my sight endure the
brightness thereof. But while she stood still and silent before me, the
effulgent radiance that had almost blinded my vision, after a time left
it unobscured, and I was able so to portray her every aspect to my mind,
as her whole beauteous figure was impressed on my memory. I saw that she
was nude, except for a thin and delicate drapery of purple, which,
albeit in some parts it covered the milk-white body, yet no more
concealed it from my ravished eyes than does the transparent glass
conceal the portrait beneath it. Her head, the hair whereof as much
surpassed gold in its luster as gold surpasses the yellowest tresses to
be found among mortals, was garlanded with a wreath of green myrtle,
beneath whose shadow I beheld two eyes of peerless splendor, so
enchanting that I could have gazed on them forever; they flashed forth
such luminous beams that it was a marvel; and all the rest of her
countenance had such transcendent loveliness that the like never was
seen here below. At first she spake no word, perchance content that I
should look upon her, or perchance seeing me so content to look upon
her. Then gradually through the translucent radiance, she revealed more
clearly every hidden grace, for she was aware that I could not believe
such beauty possible except I beheld it with my eyes, and that even then
words would fail me to picture it to mortals with my tongue. At last,
when she observed that I had sated my eyes with gazing on her, and when
she saw that her coming hither was as wondrous to me as her loveliness,
with smiling face, and in a voice sweeter than can be conceived by minds
like ours, she thus addressed me:
"Prithee, young woman, what art thou, the most fickle of thy sex,
preparing to do in obedience to the late counsels of thy aged nurse?
Knowest thou not that such counsels are far harder to follow than that
very love which thou desirest to flee? Hast thou reflected on the dire
and unendurable torments which compliance with them will entail on thee?
O most insensate one! dost thou then, who only a few hours ago wert my
willing vassal, now wish to break away from my gentle rule, because,
forsooth, of the words of an old woman, who is no longer vassal of mine,
as if, like her, thou art now unwitting of what delights I am the
source? O most witless of women! forbear, and reflect whether thou
shouldst not find befitting happiness in that which makes the happiness
of Heaven and earth. All things that Phoebus beholds during the bright
day, from what time he emerges from Ganges, until he plunges with his
tired steeds into the Hesperian waves, to seek due repose after his
wearisome pilgrimage; all things that are confined between cold Arcturus
and the red-hot pole, all own the absolute and authentic lordship of my
winged son; and in Heaven not only is he esteemed a god, like the other
deities, but he is so much more puissant than them all that not one
remains who has not heretofore been vanquished by his darts. He, flying
on golden plumage throughout his realms, with such swiftness that his
passage can hardly be discerned, visits them all in turn, and, bending
his strong bow, to the drawn string he fits the arrows forged by me and
tempered in the fountains sacred to my divinity. And when he elects
anyone to his service, as being more worthy than others, that one he
rules as it likes him. He kindles raging fires in the hearts of the
young, fans the flames that are almost dead in the old, awakens the
fever of passion in the chaste bosoms of virgins and instils a genial
warmth into the breasts of wives and widows equally. He has even
aforetime forced the gods, wrought up to a frenzy by his blazing torch,
to forsake the heavens and dwell on earth under false appearances.
Whereof the proofs are many. Was not Phoebus, though victor over huge
Python and creator of the celestial strains that sound from the lyres of
Parnassus, by him made the thrall, now of Daphne, now of Clymene, and
again of Leucothea, and of many others withal? Certainly, this was so.
And, finally, hiding his brightness under the form of a shepherd, did
not Apollo tend the flocks of Admetus? Even Jove himself, who rules the
skies, by this god coerced, molded his greatness into forms inferior to
his own. Sometimes, in shape of a snow-white fowl, he gave voice to
sounds sweeter than those of the dying swan, and anon, changing to a
young bull and fitting horns to his brow, he bellowed along the plains,
and humbled his proud flanks to the touch of a virgin's knees, and,
compelling his tired hoofs to do the office of oars, he breasted the
waves of his brother's kingdom, yet sank not in its depths, but joyously
bore away his prize. I shall not discourse unto you of his pursuit of
Semele under his proper form, or of Alcmena, in guise of Amphitryon, or
of Callisto, under the semblance of Diana, or of Danae for whose sake he
became a shower of gold, seeing that in the telling thereof I should
waste too much time. Nay, even the savage god of war, whose strength
appalls the giants, repressed his wrathful bluster, being forced to such
submission by this my son, and became gentle and loving. And the forger
of Jupiter, and artificer of his three-pronged thunderbolts, though
trained to handle fire, was smitten by a shaft more potent than he
himself had ever wrought. Nay I, though I be his mother, have not been
able to fend off his arrows: Witness the tears I have shed for the death
of Adonis! But why weary myself and thee with the utterance of so many
words? There is no deity in heaven who has passed unscathed from his
assaults; except, perhaps, Diana only, who may have escaped him by
fleeing to the woods; though some there be who tell that she did not
flee, but rather concealed the wound. If haply, however, thou, in the
hardness of thy unbelief, rejectest the testimony of heaven, and
searchest rather for examples of those in this nether world who have
felt his power, I affirm them to be so multitudinous that where to begin
I know not. Yet this much may I tell thee truly: all who have confessed
his sway have been men of might and valor. Consider attentively, in the
first place, that undaunted son of Alcmena, who, laying aside his arrows
and the formidable skin of the huge lion, was fain to adorn his fingers
with green emeralds, and to smooth and adjust his bristling and
rebellions hair. Nay, that hand which aforetime had wielded the terrific
club, and slain therewith Antaeus, and dragged the hound of hell from the
lower world, was now content to draw the woolen threads spun from
Omphale's distaff; and the shoulders whereon had rested the pillars of
the heavens, from which he had for a time freed Atlas, were now clasped
in Omphale's arms, and afterward, to do her pleasure, covered with a
diaphanous raiment of purple. Need I relate what Paris did in obedience
to the great deity? or Helen? or Clytemnestra? or AEgisthus? These are
things that are well known to all the world. Nor do I care to speak of
Achilles, or of Scylla, of Ariadne or Leander, of Dido, or of many
others, of whom the same tale could be told, were there need to tell it.
Believe me when I affirm that this fire is holy, and most potent as
well. Thou hast heard that heaven and earth are subject to my son
because of his lordship over gods and men. But what shall I say of the
power that he exercises over irrational animals, whether celestial or
terrene? It is through him that the turtle is fain to follow her mate;
it is through him that my pigeons have learned to caress his ringdoves
with fondest endearments. And there is no creeping or living creature
that has ever at any time attempted to escape from his puissance: in the
woods the timid stag, made fierce by his touch, becomes brave for sake
of the coveted hind and by bellowing and fighting, they prove how strong
are the witcheries of Love. The ferocious boars are made by Love to
froth at the mouth and sharpen their ivory tusks; the African lions,
when Love quickens them, shake their manes in fury. But leaving the
groves and forests, I assert that even in the chilly waters the
numberless divinities of the sea and of the flowing rivers are not safe
from the bolts of my son. Neither can I for a moment believe that thou
art ignorant of the testimony thereof which has been rendered by
Neptune, Glaucus, Alpheus, and others too numerous to mention: not only
were they unable to quench the flame with their dank waters, but they
could not even moderate its fury, which, when it had made its might
felt, both on the earth and in the waters, continued its onward course,
and rested not until it had penetrated into the gloomy realms of Dis.
Therefore Heaven and Earth and Ocean and Hell itself have had experience
of the potency of his weapons. And, in order that thou mayest understand
in a few words the power of the deity, I tell thee that, while
everything succumbs to nature, and nothing can ever be emancipated from
her dominion, Nature herself is but the servant of Love. When he
commands, ancient hatreds perish, and angry moods, be they old or new,
give place to his fires; and lastly, his sway has such far-reaching
influence that even stepmothers become gracious to their stepchildren, a
thing which it is a marvel to behold. Therefore what seekest thou? Why
dost thou hesitate? Why dost thou rashly avoid him? When so many gods,
when so many men, when so many animals, have been vanquished by him, art
ashamed to be vanquished by him also? In good sooth, thou weenest not
what thou art doing. If thou fearest to be blamed for thy obedience to
him, a blame so unmerited never can be thy portion. Greater sins than
thou canst commit have been committed by thousands far greater than
thou, and these sins would plead as thy excuse, shouldst thou pursue
that course which others have pursued--others who far excel thee. Thou
wilt have sinned but a little, seeing that thou hadst far less power of
resistance than those aforementioned. But if my words move thee not, and
thou wouldst still wish to withstand the god, bethink thee that thy
power falls far short of that of Jove, and that in judgment thou canst
not equal Phoebus, nor in wealth Juno, nor me in beauty; and yet, we all
have been conquered. Thou art greatly deceived, and I fear me that thou
must perish in the end, if thou persist in thy changed purpose. Let that
which has erstwhile sufficed for the whole world, suffice for thee, nor
try to render thyself cold-hearted, by saying: 'I have a husband, and
the holy laws and the vowed faith forbid me this'; for bootless are such
reasonings against the puissance of this god. He discards the laws of
others scornfully, as thinking them of no account, and ordains his own.
Pasiphae? had a husband, and Phaedra, and I, too, even though I have
loved. And it is these same husbands who most frequently fall in love
with others, albeit they have wives of their own: witness Jason and
Theseus and valiant Hector and Ulysses. Therefore to men we do no wrong
if we apply to them the same laws that they apply to others; for to
them no privilege has been granted which is not accorded to us withal.
Banish, then, thy foolish thoughts, and, in all security, go on loving
him whom thou hadst already begun to love. In good sooth, if thou
refusest to own the power of mighty Love, it behooves thee to fly; but
whither canst thou fly? Knowest thou of any retreat where he will not
follow and overtake thee? He has in all places equal puissance. Go
wheresoever thou wilt, never canst thou pass across the borders of his
realms, and within these realms vain it is for mortals to try to hide
themselves when he would smite them. But let it comfort thee to know,
young woman, that no such odious passion shall trouble thee as erstwhile
was the scourge of Myrrha, Semiramis, Byblis, Canace, and Cleopatra.
Nothing strange or new will be wrought by my son in thy regard. He has,
as have the other gods, his own special laws, which thou art not the
first to obey, and shouldst not be the last to entertain hopes
therefrom. If haply thou believest that thou art without companions in
this, foolish is thy belief. Let us pass by the other world, which is
fraught with such happenings; but observe attentively only thine own
city! What an infinite number of ladies it can show who are in the same
case with thyself! And remember that what is done by so many cannot be
deemed unseemly. Therefore, be thou of our following, and return thanks
to our beauty, which thou hast so closely examined. But return special
thanks to our deity, which has sundered thee from the ranks of the
simple, and persuaded thee to become acquainted with the delights that
our gifts bestow."
Alas! alas! ye tender and compassionate ladies, if Love has been
propitious to your desires, say what could I, what should I, answer to
such and so great words uttered by so great a goddess, if not: "Be it
done unto me according to thy pleasure"? And so, I affirm that as soon
as she had closed her lips, having already harvested within my
understanding all her words, and feeling that every word was charged
with ample excuse for what I might do, and knowing now how mighty she
was and how resistless, I resolved at once to submit to her guidance;
and instantly rising from my couch, and kneeling on the ground, with
humbled heart, I thus began, in abashed and tremulous accents:
"O peerless and eternal loveliness! O divinest of deities! O sole
mistress of all my thoughts! whose power is felt to be most invincible
by those who dare to try to withstand it, forgive the ill-timed
obstinacy wherewith I, in my great folly, attempted to ward off from my
breast the weapons of thy son, who was then to me an unknown divinity.
Now, I repeat, be it done unto me according to thy pleasure, and
according to thy promises withal. Surely, my faith merits a due reward
in time and space, seeing that I, taking delight in thee more than do
all other women, wish to see the number of thy subjects increase forever
Hardly had I made an end of speaking these words, when she moved from
the place where she was standing, and came toward me. Then, her face
glowing with the most fervent expression of affection and sympathy, she
embraced me, and touched my forehead with her divine lips. Next, just as
the false Ascanius, when panting in the arms of Dido, breathed on her
mouth, and thereby kindled the latent flame, so did she breathe on my
mouth, and, in that wise, rendered the divine fire that slumbered in my
heart more uncontrollable than ever, and this I felt at that very
moment. Thereafter, opening a little her purple robe, she showed me,
clasped in her arms against her ravishing breast, the very counterpart
of the youth I loved, wrapped in the transparent folds of a Grecian
mantle, and revealing in the lineaments of his countenance pangs that
were not unlike those I suffered.
"O damsel," she said, "rivet thy gaze on the youth before thee: we have
not given thee for lover a Lissa, a Geta, or a Birria, or anyone
resembling them, but a person in every way worthy of being loved by
every goddess in the heavens. Thee he loves more than himself, as we
have ordained, and thee will he ever love; therefore do thou, joyfully
and securely, abandon thyself to his love. Thy prayers have moved us to
pity, as it is meet that prayers so deserving should, and so, be of good
hope, and fear not that thou shalt be without the reward due thee in the
And thereafter she suddenly vanished from my eyes. _Oime!_ wretched me!
I do not for a moment doubt now, after considering the things which
followed, that this one who appeared unto me was not Venus, but rather
Tisiphone, who, doffing from her head the horrid snakes that served it
for hair, and assuming for the while the splendid form of the Goddess of
Love, in this manner lured me with deceitful counsels to that disaster
which at length overwhelmed me. Thus did Juno, but in different fashion,
veiling the radiance of her deity and transforming herself for the
occasion into the exact likeness of her aged nurse, persuaded Semele to
her undoing. Woe is me! my resolve to be so advised was the cause--O
hallowed Modesty! O Chastity, most sacred of all the virtues! sole and
most precious treasure of righteous women!--was the cause, I repeat,
wherefore I drove ye from my bosom. Yet do I venture to pray unto ye for
pardon, and surely the sinner who repents and perseveres in repentance
should in due season obtain your forgiveness.
Although the goddess had disappeared from my sight, my whole soul,
nevertheless, continued to crave her promised delights; and, albeit the
ardor of the passion that vexed my soul deprived me of every other
feeling, one piece of good fortune, for what deserving of mine I know
not, remained to me out of so many that had been lost--namely, the power
of knowing that seldom if ever has a smooth and happy ending been
granted to love, if that love be divulged and blazed abroad. And for
this reason, when influenced by my highest thoughts, I resolved,
although it was a most serious thing to do so, not to set will above
reason in carrying this my desire unto an ending. And assuredly,
although I have often been most violently constrained by divers
accidents to follow certain courses, yet so much grace was conceded to
me that, sustained by my own firmness, I passed through these agonies
without revealing the pangs that tortured me. And in sooth, I have still
resolution enough to continue to follow out this my purpose; so that,
although the things I write are most true, I have so disposed them that
no one, however keen his sagacity, can ever discover who I am, except
him who is as well acquainted with these matters as I, being, indeed,
the occasion of them all. And I implore him, should this little book
ever come into his hands, in the name of that love which he once bore
me, to conceal that which, if disclosed, would turn neither to his
profit nor honor. And, albeit he has deprived me of himself, and that
through no fault of mine, let him not take it upon himself to deprive me
of that honor which I still possess, although, perchance, undeservedly;
for should he do so, he could never again give it back to me, any more
than he can now give me back himself.
Having, therefore, formed my plans in this wise, I showed the most
long-suffering patience in manifesting my keenest and most covetous
yearnings, and I used my best efforts, but only in secret ways and when
opportunities were afforded me, to light in this young man's soul the
same flames wherewith my own soul glowed, and to make him as
circumspect as myself withal. Nor, in truth, was this for me a task of
great difficulty; for, inasmuch as the lineaments of the face always
bear most true witness to the qualities of the heart, it was not long
before I became aware that my desire would have its full fruition. I
perceived that, not only was he throbbing with amorous enthusiasm, but
that he was also imbued with most perfect discretion, and this was
exceedingly pleasing to me. He, being at once wishful to preserve my
honor in all its luster, and, at the same time, to arrange convenient
times and places for our meetings, employed many ingenious stratagems,
which, methinks, must have cost him much toil and trouble. He used every
subtle art to win the friendship of all who were related to me, and, at
last, of my husband; and not only did he enjoy their friendship, but he
possessed it in such a supreme degree that no pleasure was agreeable to
them unless he shared it. How much all this delighted me you will
understand without its being needful to me to set it down in words. And
is there anyone so dull of wit as not to conclude that from the
aforesaid friendship arose many opportunities for him and me of holding
discourse together in public? But already had he bethought himself of
acting in more subtle ways; and now he would speak to this one, now to
that one, words whereby I, being most eager for such enlightenment,
discovered that whatever he said to these was fraught with figurative
and hidden meanings, intended to show forth his ardent affection for
myself. When he was sensible that I had a clear perception of the occult
significance of his questions and answers, he went still further, and by
gestures, and mobile changes in the expression of his features, he would
make known to me his thoughts and the various phases of his passion,
which was to me a source of much delectation; and I strove so hard to
comprehend it all and to make fitting response thereunto, that neither
could he shadow forth anything to me, nor I to him, that either of us
did not at once understand.
Nay, not satisfied even with this, he employed other symbols and
metaphors, and labored earnestly to discipline me in such manner of
speech; and, to render me the more assured of his unalterable love, he
named me Fiammetta, and himself Panfilo. Woe is me! How often, when
warmed with love and wine, did we tell tales, in the presence of our
dearest friends, of Fiammetta and Panfilo, feigning that they were
Greeks of the days of old, I at one time, he at another; and the tales
were all of ourselves; how we were first caught in the snares of Love,
and of what tribulations we were long the victims, giving suitable names
to the places and persons connected with the story! Certainly, I
frequently laughed at it all, being made merry by the simplicity of the
bystanders, as well as by his astuteness and sagacity. Yet betimes I
dreaded that in the flush of his excitement he might thoughtlessly let
his tongue wander in directions wherein it was not befitting it should
venture. But he, being ever far wiser than I imagined, guarded himself
craftily from any such blundering awkwardness.
_Oime!_ most compassionate ladies, what is there that Love will not
teach to his subjects? and what is there that he is not able to render
them skilful in learning? I, who of all young women was the most
simple-minded, and ordinarily with barely power to loose my tongue, when
among my companions, concerning the most trivial and ordinary affairs,
now, because of this my affection, mastered so speedily all his modes of
speech that, in a brief space, my aptness at feigning and inventing
surpassed that of any poet! And there were few questions put to me in
response to which, after meditating on their main points, I could not
make up a pleasing tale: a thing, in my opinion, exceedingly difficult
for a young woman to begin, and still more difficult to finish and
relate afterward. But, if my actual situation required it, I might set
down numerous details which might, perhaps, seem to you of little or no
moment, as, for instance, the artful experiment whereby we tested the
fidelity of my favorite maid to whom, and to whom alone, we meditated
entrusting the secret of this hidden passion, considering that, should
another share it, our uneasiness, lest it should not be kept, would be
most grievous. Furthermore, it would weary you if I mentioned all the
plans we adopted, in order to meet divers situations, plans that I do
not believe were ever imagined by any before us; and albeit I am now
well aware that they all worked for my ultimate destruction, yet the
remembrance of them does not displease me.
Unless, O ladies, my judgment be greatly at fault, the strength of our
minds was by no means small, if it be but taken in account how hard a
thing it is for youthful persons in love to resist long the rush of
impetuous ardor without crossing the bounds set by reason: nay, it was
so great and of such quality that the most valiant of men, by acting in
such wise, would win high and worthy laud as a result thereof. But my
pen is now about to depict the final ending to which love was guided,
and, before I do so, I would appeal to your pity and to those soft
sentiments which make their dwelling in your tender breasts, and incline
your thoughts to a like termination.
Day succeeded day, and our wishes dragged along with them, kept alive by
torturing anxiety, the full bitterness whereof each of us experienced;
although the one manifested this to the other in disguised language, and
the other showed herself over-discreet to an excessive degree; all of
which you who know how ladies who are beloved behave in such
circumstances will easily understand. Well, then, he, putting full trust
in the veiled meaning of my words, and choosing the proper time and
place, came to an experience of that which I desired as much as he,
although I feigned the contrary. Certainly, if I were to say that this
was the cause of the love I felt for him, I should also have to confess
that every time it came back to my memory, it was the occasion to me of
a sorrow like unto none other. But, I call God to witness, nothing that
has happened between us had the slightest influence upon the love I bore
him, nor has it now. Still, I will not deny that our close intimacy was
then, and is now, most dear to me. And where is the woman so unwise as
not to wish to have the object of her affection within reach rather than
at a distance? How much more intensely does love enthrall us when it is
brought so near us that we and it are made almost inseparable! I say,
then, that after such an adventure, never afore willed or even thought
of by me, not once, but many times did fortune and our adroit stratagems
bring us good cheer and consolation, not indeed screened entirely from
danger, for which I cared less than for the passing of the fleeing wind.
But while the time was being spent in such joyous fashion--and that it
was joyous, Love, who alone may bear witness thereof, can truly say--yet
sometimes his coming inspired me with not a little natural apprehension,
inasmuch as he was beginning to be indiscreet in the manner of his
coming. But how dear to him was my own apartment, and with what gladness
did it see him enter! Yet was he filled with more reverence for it than
he ever had been for a sacred temple, and this I could at all times
easily discern. Woe is me! what burning kisses, what tender embraces,
what delicious moments we had there!
Why do I take such pleasure in the mere words which I am now setting
down? It is, I say, because I am forced to express the gratitude I then
felt to the holy goddess who was the promiser and bestower of Love's
delights. Ah, how often did I visit her altars and offer incense,
crowned with a garland of her favorite foliage! How often did I think
scornfully of the counsels of my aged nurse! Nay, furthermore, being
elated far more than all my other companions, how often did I disparage
their loves, saying within myself: "No one is loved as I am loved, no
one loves a youth as matchless as the youth I love, no one realizes such
delights from love as I!" In short, I counted the world as nothing in
comparison with my love. It seemed to me that my head touched the skies,
and that nothing was lacking to the culmination of my ecstatic bliss.
Betimes the idea flashed on my mind that I must disclose to others the
occasion of my transports, for surely, I would reflect, it would be a
delight to others to hear of that which has brought such delight to me!
But thou, O Shame, on the one side, and thou, O Fear, on the other, did
hold me back: the one threatening me with eternal infamy; the other with
loss of that which hostile Fortune was soon afterward to tear from me.
In such wise then, did I live for some time, for it was then pleasing to
Love that I should live in this manner; and, in good sooth, so blithely
and joyously were these days spent that I had little cause to envy any
lady in the whole world, never imagining that the delight wherewith my
heart was filled to overflowing, was to nourish the root and plant of my
future misery, as I now know to my fruitless and never-ending sorrow.
J. Sheridan LeFanu
_Upon a paper attached to the Narrative which follows, Doctor Hesselius
has written a rather elaborate note, which he accompanies with a
reference to his Essay on the strange subject which the MS. illuminates.
This mysterious subject he treats, in that Essay, with his usual
learning and acumen, and with remarkable directness and condensation. It
will form but one volume of the series of that extraordinary man's
collected papers.
As I publish the case, in this volume, simply to interest the "laity," I
shall forestall the intelligent lady, who relates it, in nothing; and
after due consideration, I have determined, therefore, to abstain from
presenting any precis of the learned Doctor's reasoning, or extract from
his statement on a subject which he describes as "involving, not
improbably, some of the profoundest arcana of our dual existence, and
its intermediates."
I was anxious on discovering this paper, to reopen the correspondence
commenced by Doctor Hesselius, so many years before, with a person so
clever and careful as his informant seems to have been. Much to my
regret, however, I found that she had died in the interval.
She, probably, could have added little to the Narrative _which she
communicates in the following pages, with, so far as I can pronounce,
such conscientious particularity_.
_An Early Fright_
In Styria, we, though by no means magnificent people, inhabit a castle,
or schloss. A small income, in that part of the world, goes a great way.
Eight or nine hundred a year does wonders. Scantily enough ours would
have answered among wealthy people at home. My father is English, and I
bear an English name, although I never saw England. But here, in this
lonely and primitive place, where everything is so marvelously cheap, I
really don't see how ever so much more money would at all materially add
to our comforts, or even luxuries.
My father was in the Austrian service, and retired upon a pension and
his patrimony, and purchased this feudal residence, and the small estate
on which it stands, a bargain.
Nothing can be more picturesque or solitary. It stands on a slight
eminence in a forest. The road, very old and narrow, passes in front of
its drawbridge, never raised in my time, and its moat, stocked with
perch, and sailed over by many swans, and floating on its surface white
fleets of water lilies.
Over all this the schloss shows its many-windowed front; its towers,
and its Gothic chapel.
The forest opens in an irregular and very picturesque glade before its
gate, and at the right a steep Gothic bridge carries the road over a
stream that winds in deep shadow through the wood. I have said that this
is a very lonely place. Judge whether I say truth. Looking from the hall
door towards the road, the forest in which our castle stands extends
fifteen miles to the right, and twelve to the left. The nearest
inhabited village is about seven of your English miles to the left. The
nearest inhabited schloss of any historic associations, is that of old
General Spielsdorf, nearly twenty miles away to the right.
I have said "the nearest _inhabited_ village," because there is, only
three miles westward, that is to say in the direction of General
Spielsdorf's schloss, a ruined village, with its quaint little church,
now roofless, in the aisle of which are the moldering tombs of the proud
family of Karnstein, now extinct, who once owned the equally desolate
chateau which, in the thick of the forest, overlooks the silent ruins
of the town.
Respecting the cause of the desertion of this striking and melancholy
spot, there is a legend which I shall relate to you another time.
I must tell you now, how very small is the party who constitute the
inhabitants of our castle. I don't include servants, or those dependents
who occupy rooms in the buildings attached to the schloss. Listen, and
wonder! My father, who is the kindest man on earth, but growing old; and
I, at the date of my story, only nineteen. Eight years have passed
I and my father constituted the family at the schloss. My mother, a
Styrian lady, died in my infancy, but I had a good-natured governess,
who had been with me from, I might almost say, my infancy. I could not
remember the time when her fat, benignant face was not a familiar
picture in my memory.
This was Madame Perrodon, a native of Berne, whose care and good nature
now in part supplied to me the loss of my mother, whom I do not even
remember, so early I lost her. She made a third at our little dinner
party. There was a fourth, Mademoiselle De Lafontaine, a lady such as
you term, I believe, a "finishing governess." She spoke French and
German, Madame Perrodon French and broken English, to which my father
and I added English, which, partly to prevent its becoming a lost
language among us, and partly from patriotic motives, we spoke every
day. The consequence was a Babel, at which strangers used to laugh, and
which I shall make no attempt to reproduce in this narrative. And there
were two or three young lady friends besides, pretty nearly of my own
age, who were occasional visitors, for longer or shorter terms; and
these visits I sometimes returned.
These were our regular social resources; but of course there were chance
visits from "neighbors" of only five or six leagues distance. My life
was, notwithstanding, rather a solitary one, I can assure you.
My gouvernantes had just so much control over me as you might conjecture
such sage persons would have in the case of a rather spoiled girl, whose
only parent allowed her pretty nearly her own way in everything.
The first occurrence in my existence, which produced a terrible
impression upon my mind, which, in fact, never has been effaced, was one
of the very earliest incidents of my life which I can recollect. Some
people will think it so trifling that it should not be recorded here.
You will see, however, by-and-by, why I mention it. The nursery, as it
was called, though I had it all to myself, was a large room in the upper
story of the castle, with a steep oak roof. I can't have been more than
six years old, when one night I awoke, and looking round the room from
my bed, failed to see the nursery maid. Neither was my nurse there; and
I thought myself alone. I was not frightened, for I was one of those
happy children who are studiously kept in ignorance of ghost stories, of
fairy tales, and of all such lore as makes us cover up our heads when
the door cracks suddenly, or the flicker of an expiring candle makes the
shadow of a bedpost dance upon the wall, nearer to our faces. I was
vexed and insulted at finding myself, as I conceived, neglected, and I
began to whimper, preparatory to a hearty bout of roaring; when to my
surprise, I saw a solemn, but very pretty face looking at me from the
side of the bed. It was that of a young lady who was kneeling, with her
hands under the coverlet. I looked at her with a kind of pleased wonder,
and ceased whimpering. She caressed me with her hands, and lay down
beside me on the bed, and drew me towards her, smiling; I felt
immediately delightfully soothed, and fell asleep again. I was wakened
by a sensation as if two needles ran into my breast very deep at the
same moment, and I cried loudly. The lady started back, with her eyes
fixed on me, and then slipped down upon the floor, and, as I thought,
hid herself under the bed.
I was now for the first time frightened, and I yelled with all my might
and main. Nurse, nursery maid, housekeeper, all came running in, and
hearing my story, they made light of it, soothing me all they could
meanwhile. But, child as I was, I could perceive that their faces were
pale with an unwonted look of anxiety, and I saw them look under the
bed, and about the room, and peep under tables and pluck open cupboards;
and the housekeeper whispered to the nurse: "Lay your hand along that
hollow in the bed; someone _did_ lie there, so sure as you did not; the
place is still warm."
I remember the nursery maid petting me, and all three examining my
chest, where I told them I felt the puncture, and pronouncing that there
was no sign visible that any such thing had happened to me.
The housekeeper and the two other servants who were in charge of the
nursery, remained sitting up all night; and from that time a servant
always sat up in the nursery until I was about fourteen.
I was very nervous for a long time after this. A doctor was called in,
he was pallid and elderly. How well I remember his long saturnine face,
slightly pitted with smallpox, and his chestnut wig. For a good while,
every second day, he came and gave me medicine, which of course I hated.
The morning after I saw this apparition I was in a state of terror, and
could not bear to be left alone, daylight though it was, for a moment.
I remember my father coming up and standing at the bedside, and talking
cheerfully, and asking the nurse a number of questions, and laughing
very heartily at one of the answers; and patting me on the shoulder, and
kissing me, and telling me not to be frightened, that it was nothing but
a dream and could not hurt me.
But I was not comforted, for I knew the visit of the strange woman was
_not_ a dream; and I was _awfully_ frightened.
I was a little consoled by the nursery maid's assuring me that it was
she who had come and looked at me, and lain down beside me in the bed,
and that I must have been half-dreaming not to have known her face. But
this, though supported by the nurse, did not quite satisfy me.
I remembered, in the course of that day, a venerable old man, in a black
cassock, coming into the room with the nurse and housekeeper, and
talking a little to them, and very kindly to me; his face was very sweet
and gentle, and he told me they were going to pray, and joined my hands
together, and desired me to say, softly, while they were praying, "Lord
hear all good prayers for us, for Jesus' sake." I think these were the
very words, for I often repeated them to myself, and my nurse used for
years to make me say them in my prayers.
I remembered so well the thoughtful sweet face of that white-haired old
man, in his black cassock, as he stood in that rude, lofty, brown room,
with the clumsy furniture of a fashion three hundred years old about
him, and the scanty light entering its shadowy atmosphere through the
small lattice. He kneeled, and the three women with him, and he prayed
aloud with an earnest quavering voice for, what appeared to me, a long
time. I forget all my life preceding that event, and for some time after
it is all obscure also, but the scenes I have just described stand out
vivid as the isolated pictures of the phantasmagoria surrounded
by darkness.
I am now going to tell you something so strange that it will require all
your faith in my veracity to believe my story. It is not only true,
nevertheless, but truth of which I have been an eyewitness.
It was a sweet summer evening, and my father asked me, as he sometimes
did, to take a little ramble with him along that beautiful forest vista
which I have mentioned as lying in front of the schloss.
"General Spielsdorf cannot come to us so soon as I had hoped," said my
father, as we pursued our walk.
He was to have paid us a visit of some weeks, and we had expected his
arrival next day. He was to have brought with him a young lady, his
niece and ward, Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt, whom I had never seen, but whom
I had heard described as a very charming girl, and in whose society I
had promised myself many happy days. I was more disappointed than a
young lady living in a town, or a bustling neighborhood can possibly
imagine. This visit, and the new acquaintance it promised, had furnished
my day dream for many weeks.
"And how soon does he come?" I asked.
"Not till autumn. Not for two months, I dare say," he answered. "And I
am very glad now, dear, that you never knew Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt."
"And why?" I asked, both mortified and curious.
"Because the poor young lady is dead," he replied. "I quite forgot I had
not told you, but you were not in the room when I received the General's
letter this evening."
I was very much shocked. General Spielsdorf had mentioned in his first
letter, six or seven weeks before, that she was not so well as he would
wish her, but there was nothing to suggest the remotest suspicion
"Here is the General's letter," he said, handing it to me. "I am afraid
he is in great affliction; the letter appears to me to have been written
very nearly in distraction."
We sat down on a rude bench, under a group of magnificent lime trees.
The sun was setting with all its melancholy splendor behind the sylvan
horizon, and the stream that flows beside our home, and passes under the
steep old bridge I have mentioned, wound through many a group of noble
trees, almost at our feet, reflecting in its current the fading crimson
of the sky. General Spielsdorf's letter was so extraordinary, so
vehement, and in some places so self-contradictory, that I read it twice
over--the second time aloud to my father--and was still unable to
account for it, except by supposing that grief had unsettled his mind.
It said "I have lost my darling daughter, for as such I loved her.
During the last days of dear Bertha's illness I was not able to write
"Before then I had no idea of her danger. I have lost her, and now learn
_all_, too late. She died in the peace of innocence, and in the glorious
hope of a blessed futurity. The fiend who betrayed our infatuated
hospitality has done it all. I thought I was receiving into my house
innocence, gaiety, a charming companion for my lost Bertha. Heavens!
what a fool have I been!
"I thank God my child died without a suspicion of the cause of her
sufferings. She is gone without so much as conjecturing the nature of
her illness, and the accursed passion of the agent of all this misery. I
devote my remaining days to tracking and extinguishing a monster. I am
told I may hope to accomplish my righteous and merciful purpose. At
present there is scarcely a gleam of light to guide me. I curse my
conceited incredulity, my despicable affectation of superiority, my
blindness, my obstinacy--all--too late. I cannot write or talk
collectedly now. I am distracted. So soon as I shall have a little
recovered, I mean to devote myself for a time to enquiry, which may
possibly lead me as far as Vienna. Some time in the autumn, two months
hence, or earlier if I live, I will see you--that is, if you permit me;
I will then tell you all that I scarce dare put upon paper now.
Farewell. Pray for me, dear friend."
In these terms ended this strange letter. Though I had never seen Bertha
Rheinfeldt my eyes filled with tears at the sudden intelligence; I was
startled, as well as profoundly disappointed.
The sun had now set, and it was twilight by the time I had returned the
General's letter to my father.
It was a soft clear evening, and we loitered, speculating upon the
possible meanings of the violent and incoherent sentences which I had
just been reading. We had nearly a mile to walk before reaching the road
that passes the schloss in front, and by that time the moon was shining
brilliantly. At the drawbridge we met Madame Perrodon and Mademoiselle
De Lafontaine, who had come out, without their bonnets, to enjoy the
exquisite moonlight.
We heard their voices gabbling in animated dialogue as we approached. We
joined them at the drawbridge, and turned about to admire with them the
beautiful scene.
The glade through which we had just walked lay before us. At our left
the narrow road wound away under clumps of lordly trees, and was lost to
sight amid the thickening forest. At the right the same road crosses the
steep and picturesque bridge, near which stands a ruined tower which
once guarded that pass; and beyond the bridge an abrupt eminence rises,
covered with trees, and showing in the shadows some grey
ivy-clustered rocks.
Over the sward and low grounds a thin film of mist was stealing like
smoke, marking the distances with a transparent veil; and here and there
we could see the river faintly flashing in the moonlight.
No softer, sweeter scene could be imagined. The news I had just heard
made it melancholy; but nothing could disturb its character of profound
serenity, and the enchanted glory and vagueness of the prospect.
My father, who enjoyed the picturesque, and I, stood looking in silence
over the expanse beneath us. The two good governesses, standing a little
way behind us, discoursed upon the scene, and were eloquent upon
Madame Perrodon was fat, middle-aged, and romantic, and talked and
sighed poetically. Mademoiselle De Lafontaine--in right of her father
who was a German, assumed to be psychological, metaphysical, and
something of a mystic--now declared that when the moon shone with a
light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual
activity. The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was
manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous
people, it had marvelous physical influences connected with life.
Mademoiselle related that her cousin, who was mate of a merchant ship,
having taken a nap on deck on such a night, lying on his back, with his
face full in the light on the moon, had wakened, after a dream of an old
woman clawing him by the cheek, with his features horribly drawn to one
side; and his countenance had never quite recovered its equilibrium.
"The moon, this night," she said, "is full of idyllic and magnetic
influence--and see, when you look behind you at the front of the schloss
how all its windows flash and twinkle with that silvery splendor, as if
unseen hands had lighted up the rooms to receive fairy guests."
There are indolent styles of the spirits in which, indisposed to talk
ourselves, the talk of others is pleasant to our listless ears; and I
gazed on, pleased with the tinkle of the ladies' conversation.
"I have got into one of my moping moods tonight," said my father, after
a silence, and quoting Shakespeare, whom, by way of keeping up our
English, he used to read aloud, he said:
  "'In truth I know not why I am so sad.
  It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
  But how I got it--came by it.'
"I forget the rest. But I feel as if some great misfortune were hanging
over us. I suppose the poor General's afflicted letter has had something
to do with it."
At this moment the unwonted sound of carriage wheels and many hoofs upon
the road, arrested our attention.
They seemed to be approaching from the high ground overlooking the
bridge, and very soon the equipage emerged from that point. Two horsemen
first crossed the bridge, then came a carriage drawn by four horses, and
two men rode behind.
It seemed to be the traveling carriage of a person of rank; and we were
all immediately absorbed in watching that very unusual spectacle. It
became, in a few moments, greatly more interesting, for just as the
carriage had passed the summit of the steep bridge, one of the leaders,
taking fright, communicated his panic to the rest, and after a plunge or
two, the whole team broke into a wild gallop together, and dashing
between the horsemen who rode in front, came thundering along the road
towards us with the speed of a hurricane.
The excitement of the scene was made more painful by the clear,
long-drawn screams of a female voice from the carriage window.
We all advanced in curiosity and horror; me rather in silence, the rest
with various ejaculations of terror.
Our suspense did not last long. Just before you reach the castle
drawbridge, on the route they were coming, there stands by the roadside
a magnificent lime tree, on the other stands an ancient stone cross, at
sight of which the horses, now going at a pace that was perfectly
frightful, swerved so as to bring the wheel over the projecting roots
of the tree.
I knew what was coming. I covered my eyes, unable to see it out, and
turned my head away; at the same moment I heard a cry from my lady
friends, who had gone on a little.
Curiosity opened my eyes, and I saw a scene of utter confusion. Two of
the horses were on the ground, the carriage lay upon its side with two
wheels in the air; the men were busy removing the traces, and a lady
with a commanding air and figure had got out, and stood with clasped
hands, raising the handkerchief that was in them every now and then
to her eyes.
Through the carriage door was now lifted a young lady, who appeared to
be lifeless. My dear old father was already beside the elder lady, with
his hat in his hand, evidently tendering his aid and the resources of
his schloss. The lady did not appear to hear him, or to have eyes for
anything but the slender girl who was being placed against the slope
of the bank.
I approached; the young lady was apparently stunned, but she was
certainly not dead. My father, who piqued himself on being something of
a physician, had just had his fingers on her wrist and assured the lady,
who declared herself her mother, that her pulse, though faint and
irregular, was undoubtedly still distinguishable. The lady clasped her
hands and looked upward, as if in a momentary transport of gratitude;
but immediately she broke out again in that theatrical way which is, I
believe, natural to some people.
She was what is called a fine looking woman for her time of life, and
must have been handsome; she was tall, but not thin, and dressed in
black velvet, and looked rather pale, but with a proud and commanding
countenance, though now agitated strangely.
"Who was ever being so born to calamity?" I heard her say, with clasped
hands, as I came up. "Here am I, on a journey of life and death, in
prosecuting which to lose an hour is possibly to lose all. My child will
not have recovered sufficiently to resume her route for who can say how
long. I must leave her: I cannot, dare not, delay. How far on, sir, can
you tell, is the nearest village? I must leave her there; and shall not
see my darling, or even hear of her till my return, three months hence."
I plucked my father by the coat, and whispered earnestly in his ear:
"Oh! papa, pray ask her to let her stay with us--it would be so
delightful. Do, pray."
"If Madame will entrust her child to the care of my daughter, and of her
good gouvernante, Madame Perrodon, and permit her to remain as our
guest, under my charge, until her return, it will confer a distinction
and an obligation upon us, and we shall treat her with all the care and
devotion which so sacred a trust deserves."
"I cannot do that, sir, it would be to task your kindness and chivalry
too cruelly," said the lady, distractedly.
"It would, on the contrary, be to confer on us a very great kindness at
the moment when we most need it. My daughter has just been disappointed
by a cruel misfortune, in a visit from which she had long anticipated a
great deal of happiness. If you confide this young lady to our care it
will be her best consolation. The nearest village on your route is
distant, and affords no such inn as you could think of placing your
daughter at; you cannot allow her to continue her journey for any
considerable distance without danger. If, as you say, you cannot suspend
your journey, you must part with her tonight, and nowhere could you do
so with more honest assurances of care and tenderness than here."
There was something in this lady's air and appearance so distinguished
and even imposing, and in her manner so engaging, as to impress one,
quite apart from the dignity of her equipage, with a conviction that she
was a person of consequence.
By this time the carriage was replaced in its upright position, and the
horses, quite tractable, in the traces again.
The lady threw on her daughter a glance which I fancied was not quite so
affectionate as one might have anticipated from the beginning of the
scene; then she beckoned slightly to my father, and withdrew two or
three steps with him out of hearing; and talked to him with a fixed and
stern countenance, not at all like that with which she had
hitherto spoken.
I was filled with wonder that my father did not seem to perceive the
change, and also unspeakably curious to learn what it could be that she
was speaking, almost in his ear, with so much earnestness and rapidity.
Two or three minutes at most I think she remained thus employed, then
she turned, and a few steps brought her to where her daughter lay,
supported by Madame Perrodon. She kneeled beside her for a moment and
whispered, as Madame supposed, a little benediction in her ear; then
hastily kissing her she stepped into her carriage, the door was closed,
the footmen in stately liveries jumped up behind, the outriders spurred
on, the postilions cracked their whips, the horses plunged and broke
suddenly into a furious canter that threatened soon again to become a
gallop, and the carriage whirled away, followed at the same rapid pace
by the two horsemen in the rear.
_We Compare Notes_
We followed the _cortege_ with our eyes until it was swiftly lost to
sight in the misty wood; and the very sound of the hoofs and the wheels
died away in the silent night air.
Nothing remained to assure us that the adventure had not been an
illusion of a moment but the young lady, who just at that moment opened
her eyes. I could not see, for her face was turned from me, but she
raised her head, evidently looking about her, and I heard a very sweet
voice ask complainingly, "Where is mamma?"
Our good Madame Perrodon answered tenderly, and added some comfortable
I then heard her ask:
"Where am I? What is this place?" and after that she said, "I don't see
the carriage; and Matska, where is she?"
Madame answered all her questions in so far as she understood them; and
gradually the young lady remembered how the misadventure came about, and
was glad to hear that no one in, or in attendance on, the carriage was
hurt; and on learning that her mamma had left her here, till her return
in about three months, she wept.
I was going to add my consolations to those of Madame Perrodon when
Mademoiselle De Lafontaine placed her hand upon my arm, saying:
"Don't approach, one at a time is as much as she can at present converse
with; a very little excitement would possibly overpower her now."
As soon as she is comfortably in bed, I thought, I will run up to her
room and see her.
My father in the meantime had sent a servant on horseback for the
physician, who lived about two leagues away; and a bedroom was being
prepared for the young lady's reception.
The stranger now rose, and leaning on Madame's arm, walked slowly over
the drawbridge and into the castle gate.
In the hall, servants waited to receive her, and she was conducted
forthwith to her room. The room we usually sat in as our drawing room is
long, having four windows, that looked over the moat and drawbridge,
upon the forest scene I have just described.
It is furnished in old carved oak, with large carved cabinets, and the
chairs are cushioned with crimson Utrecht velvet. The walls are covered
with tapestry, and surrounded with great gold frames, the figures being
as large as life, in ancient and very curious costume, and the subjects
represented are hunting, hawking, and generally festive. It is not too
stately to be extremely comfortable; and here we had our tea, for with
his usual patriotic leanings he insisted that the national beverage
should make its appearance regularly with our coffee and chocolate.
We sat here this night, and with candles lighted, were talking over the
adventure of the evening.
Madame Perrodon and Mademoiselle De Lafontaine were both of our party.
The young stranger had hardly lain down in her bed when she sank into a
deep sleep; and those ladies had left her in the care of a servant.
"How do you like our guest?" I asked, as soon as Madame entered. "Tell
me all about her?"
"I like her extremely," answered Madame, "she is, I almost think, the
prettiest creature I ever saw; about your age, and so gentle and nice."
"She is absolutely beautiful," threw in Mademoiselle, who had peeped for
a moment into the stranger's room.
"And such a sweet voice!" added Madame Perrodon.
"Did you remark a woman in the carriage, after it was set up again, who
did not get out," inquired Mademoiselle, "but only looked from
the window?"
"No, we had not seen her."
Then she described a hideous black woman, with a sort of colored turban
on her head, and who was gazing all the time from the carriage window,
nodding and grinning derisively towards the ladies, with gleaming eyes
and large white eyeballs, and her teeth set as if in fury.
"Did you remark what an ill-looking pack of men the servants were?"
asked Madame.
"Yes," said my father, who had just come in, "ugly, hang-dog looking
fellows as ever I beheld in my life. I hope they mayn't rob the poor
lady in the forest. They are clever rogues, however; they got everything
to rights in a minute."
"I dare say they are worn out with too long traveling," said Madame.
"Besides looking wicked, their faces were so strangely lean, and dark,
and sullen. I am very curious, I own; but I dare say the young lady will
tell you all about it tomorrow, if she is sufficiently recovered."
"I don't think she will," said my father, with a mysterious smile, and a
little nod of his head, as if he knew more about it than he cared
This made us all the more inquisitive as to what had passed between him
and the lady in the black velvet, in the brief but earnest interview
that had immediately preceded her departure.
We were scarcely alone, when I entreated him to tell me. He did not need
much pressing.
"There is no particular reason why I should not tell you. She expressed
a reluctance to trouble us with the care of her daughter, saying she was
in delicate health, and nervous, but not subject to any kind of
seizure--she volunteered that--nor to any illusion; being, in fact,
perfectly sane."
"How very odd to say all that!" I interpolated. "It was so unnecessary."
"At all events it _was_ said," he laughed, "and as you wish to know all
that passed, which was indeed very little, I tell you. She then said, 'I
am making a long journey of _vital_ importance--she emphasized the
word--rapid and secret; I shall return for my child in three months; in
the meantime, she will be silent as to who we are, whence we come, and
whither we are traveling.' That is all she said. She spoke very pure
French. When she said the word 'secret,' she paused for a few seconds,
looking sternly, her eyes fixed on mine. I fancy she makes a great point
of that. You saw how quickly she was gone. I hope I have not done a very
foolish thing, in taking charge of the young lady."
For my part, I was delighted. I was longing to see and talk to her; and
only waiting till the doctor should give me leave. You, who live in
towns, can have no idea how great an event the introduction of a new
friend is, in such a solitude as surrounded us.
The doctor did not arrive till nearly one o'clock; but I could no more
have gone to my bed and slept, than I could have overtaken, on foot, the
carriage in which the princess in black velvet had driven away.
When the physician came down to the drawing room, it was to report very
favorably upon his patient. She was now sitting up, her pulse quite
regular, apparently perfectly well. She had sustained no injury, and the
little shock to her nerves had passed away quite harmlessly. There could
be no harm certainly in my seeing her, if we both wished it; and, with
this permission I sent, forthwith, to know whether she would allow me to
visit her for a few minutes in her room.
The servant returned immediately to say that she desired nothing more.
You may be sure I was not long in availing myself of this permission.
Our visitor lay in one of the handsomest rooms in the schloss. It was,
perhaps, a little stately. There was a somber piece of tapestry opposite
the foot of the bed, representing Cleopatra with the asps to her bosom;
and other solemn classic scenes were displayed, a little faded, upon the
other walls. But there was gold carving, and rich and varied color
enough in the other decorations of the room, to more than redeem the
gloom of the old tapestry.
There were candles at the bedside. She was sitting up; her slender
pretty figure enveloped in the soft silk dressing gown, embroidered with
flowers, and lined with thick quilted silk, which her mother had thrown
over her feet as she lay upon the ground.
What was it that, as I reached the bedside and had just begun my little
greeting, struck me dumb in a moment, and made me recoil a step or two
from before her? I will tell you.
I saw the very face which had visited me in my childhood at night, which
remained so fixed in my memory, and on which I had for so many years so
often ruminated with horror, when no one suspected of what I
was thinking.
It was pretty, even beautiful; and when I first beheld it, wore the
same melancholy expression.
But this almost instantly lighted into a strange fixed smile of
recognition.
There was a silence of fully a minute, and then at length she spoke; I
"How wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Twelve years ago, I saw your face in a
dream, and it has haunted me ever since."
"Wonderful indeed!" I repeated, overcoming with an effort the horror
that had for a time suspended my utterances. "Twelve years ago, in
vision or reality, I certainly saw you. I could not forget your face. It
has remained before my eyes ever since."
Her smile had softened. Whatever I had fancied strange in it, was gone,
and it and her dimpling cheeks were now delightfully pretty and
intelligent.
I felt reassured, and continued more in the vein which hospitality
indicated, to bid her welcome, and to tell her how much pleasure her
accidental arrival had given us all, and especially what a happiness it
I took her hand as I spoke. I was a little shy, as lonely people are,
but the situation made me eloquent, and even bold. She pressed my hand,
she laid hers upon it, and her eyes glowed, as, looking hastily into
mine, she smiled again, and blushed.
She answered my welcome very prettily. I sat down beside her, still
wondering; and she said:
"I must tell you my vision about you; it is so very strange that you and
I should have had, each of the other so vivid a dream, that each should
have seen, I you and you me, looking as we do now, when of course we
both were mere children. I was a child, about six years old, and I awoke
from a confused and troubled dream, and found myself in a room, unlike
my nursery, wainscoted clumsily in some dark wood, and with cupboards
and bedsteads, and chairs, and benches placed about it. The beds were,
I thought, all empty, and the room itself without anyone but myself in
it; and I, after looking about me for some time, and admiring especially
an iron candlestick with two branches, which I should certainly know
again, crept under one of the beds to reach the window; but as I got
from under the bed, I heard someone crying; and looking up, while I was
still upon my knees, I saw you--most assuredly you--as I see you now; a
beautiful young lady, with golden hair and large blue eyes, and
lips--your lips--you as you are here.
"Your looks won me; I climbed on the bed and put my arms about you, and
I think we both fell asleep. I was aroused by a scream; you were sitting
up screaming. I was frightened, and slipped down upon the ground, and,
it seemed to me, lost consciousness for a moment; and when I came to
myself, I was again in my nursery at home. Your face I have never
forgotten since. I could not be misled by mere resemblance. _You are_
the lady whom I saw then."
It was now my turn to relate my corresponding vision, which I did, to
the undisguised wonder of my new acquaintance.
"I don't know which should be most afraid of the other," she said, again
smiling--"If you were less pretty I think I should be very much afraid
of you, but being as you are, and you and I both so young, I feel only
that I have made your acquaintance twelve years ago, and have already a
right to your intimacy; at all events it does seem as if we were
destined, from our earliest childhood, to be friends. I wonder whether
you feel as strangely drawn towards me as I do to you; I have never had
a friend--shall I find one now?" She sighed, and her fine dark eyes
gazed passionately on me.
Now the truth is, I felt rather unaccountably towards the beautiful
stranger. I did feel, as she said, "drawn towards her," but there was
also something of repulsion. In this ambiguous feeling, however, the
sense of attraction immensely prevailed. She interested and won me; she
was so beautiful and so indescribably engaging.
I perceived now something of languor and exhaustion stealing over her,
and hastened to bid her good night.
"The doctor thinks," I added, "that you ought to have a maid to sit up
with you tonight; one of ours is waiting, and you will find her a very
useful and quiet creature."
"How kind of you, but I could not sleep, I never could with an attendant
in the room. I shan't require any assistance--and, shall I confess my
weakness, I am haunted with a terror of robbers. Our house was robbed
once, and two servants murdered, so I always lock my door. It has become
a habit--and you look so kind I know you will forgive me. I see there is
a key in the lock."
She held me close in her pretty arms for a moment and whispered in my
ear, "Good night, darling, it is very hard to part with you, but good
night; tomorrow, but not early, I shall see you again."
She sank back on the pillow with a sigh, and her fine eyes followed me
with a fond and melancholy gaze, and she murmured again "Good night,
dear friend."
Young people like, and even love, on impulse. I was flattered by the
evident, though as yet undeserved, fondness she showed me. I liked the
confidence with which she at once received me. She was determined that
we should be very near friends.
Next day came and we met again. I was delighted with my companion; that
is to say, in many respects.
Her looks lost nothing in daylight--she was certainly the most beautiful
creature I had ever seen, and the unpleasant remembrance of the face
presented in my early dream, had lost the effect of the first unexpected
recognition.
She confessed that she had experienced a similar shock on seeing me, and
precisely the same faint antipathy that had mingled with my admiration
of her. We now laughed together over our momentary horrors.
_Her Habits--A Saunter_
I told you that I was charmed with her in most particulars.
There were some that did not please me so well.
She was above the middle height of women. I shall begin by describing
She was slender, and wonderfully graceful. Except that her movements
were languid--very languid--indeed, there was nothing in her appearance
to indicate an invalid. Her complexion was rich and brilliant; her
features were small and beautifully formed; her eyes large, dark, and
lustrous; her hair was quite wonderful, I never saw hair so
magnificently thick and long when it was down about her shoulders; I
have often placed my hands under it, and laughed with wonder at its
weight. It was exquisitely fine and soft, and in color a rich very dark
brown, with something of gold. I loved to let it down, tumbling with its
own weight, as, in her room, she lay back in her chair talking in her
sweet low voice, I used to fold and braid it, and spread it out and
play with it. Heavens! If I had but known all!
I said there were particulars which did not please me. I have told you
that her confidence won me the first night I saw her; but I found that
she exercised with respect to herself, her mother, her history,
everything in fact connected with her life, plans, and people, an ever
wakeful reserve. I dare say I was unreasonable, perhaps I was wrong; I
dare say I ought to have respected the solemn injunction laid upon my
father by the stately lady in black velvet. But curiosity is a restless
and unscrupulous passion, and no one girl can endure, with patience,
that hers should be baffled by another. What harm could it do anyone to
tell me what I so ardently desired to know? Had she no trust in my good
sense or honor? Why would she not believe me when I assured her, so
solemnly, that I would not divulge one syllable of what she told me to
any mortal breathing.
There was a coldness, it seemed to me, beyond her years, in her smiling
melancholy persistent refusal to afford me the least ray of light.
I cannot say we quarreled upon this point, for she would not quarrel
upon any. It was, of course, very unfair of me to press her, very
ill-bred, but I really could not help it; and I might just as well have
let it alone.
What she did tell me amounted, in my unconscionable estimation--to
It was all summed up in three very vague disclosures:
First--Her name was Carmilla.
Second--Her family was very ancient and noble.
Third--Her home lay in the direction of the west.
She would not tell me the name of her family, nor their armorial
bearings, nor the name of their estate, nor even that of the country
they lived in.
You are not to suppose that I worried her incessantly on these subjects.
I watched opportunity, and rather insinuated than urged my inquiries.
Once or twice, indeed, I did attack her more directly. But no matter
what my tactics, utter failure was invariably the result. Reproaches and
caresses were all lost upon her. But I must add this, that her evasion
was conducted with so pretty a melancholy and deprecation, with so many,
and even passionate declarations of her liking for me, and trust in my
honor, and with so many promises that I should at last know all, that I
could not find it in my heart long to be offended with her.
She used to place her pretty arms about my neck, draw me to her, and
laying her cheek to mine, murmur with her lips near my ear, "Dearest,
your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the
irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is
wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous
humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die--die, sweetly
die--into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your
turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty,
which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine,
but trust me with all your loving spirit."
And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely
in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow
upon my cheek.
Her agitations and her language were unintelligible to me.
From these foolish embraces, which were not of very frequent occurrence,
I must allow, I used to wish to extricate myself; but my energies seemed
to fail me. Her murmured words sounded like a lullaby in my ear, and
soothed my resistance into a trance, from which I only seemed to recover
myself when she withdrew her arms.
In these mysterious moods I did not like her. I experienced a strange
tumultuous excitement that was pleasurable, ever and anon, mingled with
a vague sense of fear and disgust. I had no distinct thoughts about her
while such scenes lasted, but I was conscious of a love growing into
adoration, and also of abhorrence. This I know is paradox, but I can
make no other attempt to explain the feeling.
I now write, after an interval of more than ten years, with a trembling
hand, with a confused and horrible recollection of certain occurrences
and situations, in the ordeal through which I was unconsciously passing;
though with a vivid and very sharp remembrance of the main current of
But, I suspect, in all lives there are certain emotional scenes, those
in which our passions have been most wildly and terribly roused, that
are of all others the most vaguely and dimly remembered.
Sometimes after an hour of apathy, my strange and beautiful companion
would take my hand and hold it with a fond pressure, renewed again and
again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and burning eyes,
and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous
respiration. It was like the ardor of a lover; it embarrassed me; it was
hateful and yet over-powering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to
her, and her hot lips traveled along my cheek in kisses; and she would
whisper, almost in sobs, "You are mine, you _shall_ be mine, you and I
are one for ever." Then she had thrown herself back in her chair, with
her small hands over her eyes, leaving me trembling.
"Are we related," I used to ask; "what can you mean by all this? I
remind you perhaps of someone whom you love; but you must not, I hate
it; I don't know you--I don't know myself when you look so and talk so."
She used to sigh at my vehemence, then turn away and drop my hand.
Respecting these very extraordinary manifestations I strove in vain to
form any satisfactory theory--I could not refer them to affectation or
trick. It was unmistakably the momentary breaking out of suppressed
instinct and emotion. Was she, notwithstanding her mother's volunteered
denial, subject to brief visitations of insanity; or was there here a
disguise and a romance? I had read in old storybooks of such things.
What if a boyish lover had found his way into the house, and sought to
prosecute his suit in masquerade, with the assistance of a clever old
adventuress. But there were many things against this hypothesis, highly
interesting as it was to my vanity.
I could boast of no little attentions such as masculine gallantry
delights to offer. Between these passionate moments there were long
intervals of commonplace, of gaiety, of brooding melancholy, during
which, except that I detected her eyes so full of melancholy fire,
following me, at times I might have been as nothing to her. Except in
these brief periods of mysterious excitement her ways were girlish; and
there was always a languor about her, quite incompatible with a
masculine system in a state of health.
In some respects her habits were odd. Perhaps not so singular in the
opinion of a town lady like you, as they appeared to us rustic people.
She used to come down very late, generally not till one o'clock, she
would then take a cup of chocolate, but eat nothing; we then went out
for a walk, which was a mere saunter, and she seemed, almost
immediately, exhausted, and either returned to the schloss or sat on one
of the benches that were placed, here and there, among the trees. This
was a bodily languor in which her mind did not sympathize. She was
always an animated talker, and very intelligent.
She sometimes alluded for a moment to her own home, or mentioned an
adventure or situation, or an early recollection, which indicated a
people of strange manners, and described customs of which we knew
nothing. I gathered from these chance hints that her native country was
much more remote than I had at first fancied.
As we sat thus one afternoon under the trees a funeral passed us by. It
was that of a pretty young girl, whom I had often seen, the daughter of
one of the rangers of the forest. The poor man was walking behind the
coffin of his darling; she was his only child, and he looked quite
heartbroken.
Peasants walking two-and-two came behind, they were singing a funeral
I rose to mark my respect as they passed, and joined in the hymn they
were very sweetly singing.
My companion shook me a little roughly, and I turned surprised.
She said brusquely, "Don't you perceive how discordant that is?"
"I think it very sweet, on the contrary," I answered, vexed at the
interruption, and very uncomfortable, lest the people who composed the
little procession should observe and resent what was passing.
I resumed, therefore, instantly, and was again interrupted. "You pierce
my ears," said Carmilla, almost angrily, and stopping her ears with her
tiny fingers. "Besides, how can you tell that your religion and mine are
the same; your forms wound me, and I hate funerals. What a fuss! Why you
must die--_everyone_ must die; and all are happier when they do.
"My father has gone on with the clergyman to the churchyard. I thought
you knew she was to be buried today."
"She? I don't trouble my head about peasants. I don't know who she is,"
answered Carmilla, with a flash from her fine eyes.
"She is the poor girl who fancied she saw a ghost a fortnight ago, and
has been dying ever since, till yesterday, when she expired."
"Tell me nothing about ghosts. I shan't sleep tonight if you do."
"I hope there is no plague or fever coming; all this looks very like
it," I continued. "The swineherd's young wife died only a week ago, and
she thought something seized her by the throat as she lay in her bed,
and nearly strangled her. Papa says such horrible fancies do accompany
some forms of fever. She was quite well the day before. She sank
afterwards, and died before a week."
"Well, _her_ funeral is over, I hope, and _her_ hymn sung; and our ears
shan't be tortured with that discord and jargon. It has made me nervous.
Sit down here, beside me; sit close; hold my hand; press it
hard-hard-harder."
We had moved a little back, and had come to another seat.
She sat down. Her face underwent a change that alarmed and even
terrified me for a moment. It darkened, and became horribly livid; her
teeth and hands were clenched, and she frowned and compressed her lips,
while she stared down upon the ground at her feet, and trembled all over
with a continued shudder as irrepressible as ague. All her energies
seemed strained to suppress a fit, with which she was then breathlessly
tugging; and at length a low convulsive cry of suffering broke from her,
and gradually the hysteria subsided. "There! That comes of strangling
people with hymns!" she said at last. "Hold me, hold me still. It is
passing away."
And so gradually it did; and perhaps to dissipate the somber impression
which the spectacle had left upon me, she became unusually animated and
chatty; and so we got home.
This was the first time I had seen her exhibit any definable symptoms of
that delicacy of health which her mother had spoken of. It was the first
time, also, I had seen her exhibit anything like temper.
Both passed away like a summer cloud; and never but once afterwards did
I witness on her part a momentary sign of anger. I will tell you how
it happened.
She and I were looking out of one of the long drawing room windows, when
there entered the courtyard, over the drawbridge, a figure of a wanderer
whom I knew very well. He used to visit the schloss generally twice
It was the figure of a hunchback, with the sharp lean features that
generally accompany deformity. He wore a pointed black beard, and he was
smiling from ear to ear, showing his white fangs. He was dressed in
buff, black, and scarlet, and crossed with more straps and belts than I
could count, from which hung all manner of things. Behind, he carried a
magic lantern, and two boxes, which I well knew, in one of which was a
salamander, and in the other a mandrake. These monsters used to make my
father laugh. They were compounded of parts of monkeys, parrots,
squirrels, fish, and hedgehogs, dried and stitched together with great
neatness and startling effect. He had a fiddle, a box of conjuring
apparatus, a pair of foils and masks attached to his belt, several other
mysterious cases dangling about him, and a black staff with copper
ferrules in his hand. His companion was a rough spare dog, that followed
at his heels, but stopped short, suspiciously at the drawbridge, and in
a little while began to howl dismally.
In the meantime, the mountebank, standing in the midst of the courtyard,
raised his grotesque hat, and made us a very ceremonious bow, paying his
compliments very volubly in execrable French, and German not
much better.
Then, disengaging his fiddle, he began to scrape a lively air to which
he sang with a merry discord, dancing with ludicrous airs and activity,
that made me laugh, in spite of the dog's howling.
Then he advanced to the window with many smiles and salutations, and
his hat in his left hand, his fiddle under his arm, and with a fluency
that never took breath, he gabbled a long advertisement of all his
accomplishments, and the resources of the various arts which he placed
at our service, and the curiosities and entertainments which it was in
his power, at our bidding, to display.
"Will your ladyships be pleased to buy an amulet against the oupire,
which is going like the wolf, I hear, through these woods," he said
dropping his hat on the pavement. "They are dying of it right and left
and here is a charm that never fails; only pinned to the pillow, and you
may laugh in his face."
These charms consisted of oblong slips of vellum, with cabalistic
ciphers and diagrams upon them.
Carmilla instantly purchased one, and so did I.
He was looking up, and we were smiling down upon him, amused; at least,
I can answer for myself. His piercing black eye, as he looked up in our
faces, seemed to detect something that fixed for a moment his curiosity.
In an instant he unrolled a leather case, full of all manner of odd
little steel instruments.
"See here, my lady," he said, displaying it, and addressing me, "I
profess, among other things less useful, the art of dentistry. Plague
take the dog!" he interpolated. "Silence, beast! He howls so that your
ladyships can scarcely hear a word. Your noble friend, the young lady at
your right, has the sharpest tooth,--long, thin, pointed, like an awl,
like a needle; ha, ha! With my sharp and long sight, as I look up, I
have seen it distinctly; now if it happens to hurt the young lady, and I
think it must, here am I, here are my file, my punch, my nippers; I will
make it round and blunt, if her ladyship pleases; no longer the tooth of
a fish, but of a beautiful young lady as she is. Hey? Is the young lady
displeased? Have I been too bold? Have I offended her?"
The young lady, indeed, looked very angry as she drew back from the
"How dares that mountebank insult us so? Where is your father? I shall
demand redress from him. My father would have had the wretch tied up to
the pump, and flogged with a cart whip, and burnt to the bones with the
cattle brand!"
She retired from the window a step or two, and sat down, and had hardly
lost sight of the offender, when her wrath subsided as suddenly as it
had risen, and she gradually recovered her usual tone, and seemed to
forget the little hunchback and his follies.
My father was out of spirits that evening. On coming in he told us that
there had been another case very similar to the two fatal ones which had
lately occurred. The sister of a young peasant on his estate, only a
mile away, was very ill, had been, as she described it, attacked very
nearly in the same way, and was now slowly but steadily sinking.
"All this," said my father, "is strictly referable to natural causes.
These poor people infect one another with their superstitions, and so
repeat in imagination the images of terror that have infested their
"But that very circumstance frightens one horribly," said Carmilla.
"How so?" inquired my father.
"I am so afraid of fancying I see such things; I think it would be as
bad as reality."
"We are in God's hands: nothing can happen without his permission, and
all will end well for those who love him. He is our faithful creator; He
has made us all, and will take care of us."
"Creator! _Nature!_" said the young lady in answer to my gentle father.
"And this disease that invades the country is natural. Nature. All
things proceed from Nature--don't they? All things in the heaven, in the
earth, and under the earth, act and live as Nature ordains? I
"The doctor said he would come here today," said my father, after a
silence. "I want to know what he thinks about it, and what he thinks we
had better do."
"Doctors never did me any good," said Carmilla.
"Then you have been ill?" I asked.
"More ill than ever you were," she answered.
"Yes, a long time. I suffered from this very illness; but I forget all
but my pain and weakness, and they were not so bad as are suffered in
other diseases."
"You were very young then?"
"I dare say, let us talk no more of it. You would not wound a friend?"
She looked languidly in my eyes, and passed her arm round my waist
lovingly, and led me out of the room. My father was busy over some
papers near the window.
"Why does your papa like to frighten us?" said the pretty girl with a
sigh and a little shudder.
"He doesn't, dear Carmilla, it is the very furthest thing from his
"Are you afraid, dearest?"
"I should be very much if I fancied there was any real danger of my
being attacked as those poor people were."
"You are afraid to die?"
"Yes, every one is."
"But to die as lovers may--to die together, so that they may live
"Girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally
butterflies when the summer comes; but in the meantime there are grubs
and larvae, don't you see--each with their peculiar propensities,
necessities and structure. So says Monsieur Buffon, in his big book, in
the next room."
Later in the day the doctor came, and was closeted with papa for some
He was a skilful man, of sixty and upwards, he wore powder, and shaved
his pale face as smooth as a pumpkin. He and papa emerged from the room
together, and I heard papa laugh, and say as they came out:
"Well, I do wonder at a wise man like you. What do you say to
hippogriffs and dragons?"
The doctor was smiling, and made answer, shaking his head--
"Nevertheless life and death are mysterious states, and we know little
of the resources of either."
And so they walked on, and I heard no more. I did not then know what the
doctor had been broaching, but I think I guess it now.
_A Wonderful Likeness_
This evening there arrived from Gratz the grave, dark-faced son of the
picture cleaner, with a horse and cart laden with two large packing
cases, having many pictures in each. It was a journey of ten leagues,
and whenever a messenger arrived at the schloss from our little capital
of Gratz, we used to crowd about him in the hall, to hear the news.
This arrival created in our secluded quarters quite a sensation. The
cases remained in the hall, and the messenger was taken charge of by the
servants till he had eaten his supper. Then with assistants, and armed
with hammer, ripping chisel, and turnscrew, he met us in the hall, where
we had assembled to witness the unpacking of the cases.
Carmilla sat looking listlessly on, while one after the other the old
pictures, nearly all portraits, which had undergone the process of
renovation, were brought to light. My mother was of an old Hungarian
family, and most of these pictures, which were about to be restored to
their places, had come to us through her.
My father had a list in his hand, from which he read, as the artist
rummaged out the corresponding numbers. I don't know that the pictures
were very good, but they were, undoubtedly, very old, and some of them
very curious also. They had, for the most part, the merit of being now
seen by me, I may say, for the first time; for the smoke and dust of
time had all but obliterated them.
"There is a picture that I have not seen yet," said my father. "In one
corner, at the top of it, is the name, as well as I could read, 'Marcia
Karnstein,' and the date '1698'; and I am curious to see how it has
turned out."
I remembered it; it was a small picture, about a foot and a half high,
and nearly square, without a frame; but it was so blackened by age that
I could not make it out.
The artist now produced it, with evident pride. It was quite beautiful;
it was startling; it seemed to live. It was the effigy of Carmilla!
"Carmilla, dear, here is an absolute miracle. Here you are, living,
smiling, ready to speak, in this picture. Isn't it beautiful, Papa? And
see, even the little mole on her throat."
My father laughed, and said "Certainly it is a wonderful likeness," but
he looked away, and to my surprise seemed but little struck by it, and
went on talking to the picture cleaner, who was also something of an
artist, and discoursed with intelligence about the portraits or other
works, which his art had just brought into light and color, while I was
more and more lost in wonder the more I looked at the picture.
"Will you let me hang this picture in my room, papa?" I asked.
"Certainly, dear," said he, smiling, "I'm very glad you think it so
like. It must be prettier even than I thought it, if it is."
The young lady did not acknowledge this pretty speech, did not seem to
hear it. She was leaning back in her seat, her fine eyes under their
long lashes gazing on me in contemplation, and she smiled in a kind
"And now you can read quite plainly the name that is written in the
corner. It is not Marcia; it looks as if it was done in gold. The name
is Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, and this is a little coronet over and
underneath A.D. 1698. I am descended from the Karnsteins; that is,
"Ah!" said the lady, languidly, "so am I, I think, a very long descent,
very ancient. Are there any Karnsteins living now?"
"None who bear the name, I believe. The family were ruined, I believe,
in some civil wars, long ago, but the ruins of the castle are only about
three miles away."
"How interesting!" she said, languidly. "But see what beautiful
moonlight!" She glanced through the hall door, which stood a little
open. "Suppose you take a little ramble round the court, and look down
at the road and river."
"It is so like the night you came to us," I said.
She sighed; smiling.
She rose, and each with her arm about the other's waist, we walked out
upon the pavement.
In silence, slowly we walked down to the drawbridge, where the beautiful
landscape opened before us.
"And so you were thinking of the night I came here?" she almost
"Are you glad I came?"
"Delighted, dear Carmilla," I answered.
"And you asked for the picture you think like me, to hang in your room,"
she murmured with a sigh, as she drew her arm closer about my waist, and
let her pretty head sink upon my shoulder. "How romantic you are,
Carmilla," I said. "Whenever you tell me your story, it will be made up
chiefly of some one great romance."
She kissed me silently.
"I am sure, Carmilla, you have been in love; that there is, at this
moment, an affair of the heart going on."
"I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered,
"unless it should be with you."
How beautiful she looked in the moonlight!
Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my
neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and
pressed in mine a hand that trembled.
Her soft cheek was glowing against mine. "Darling, darling," she
murmured, "I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so."
I started from her.
She was gazing on me with eyes from which all fire, all meaning had
flown, and a face colorless and apathetic.
"Is there a chill in the air, dear?" she said drowsily. "I almost
shiver; have I been dreaming? Let us come in. Come; come; come in."
"You look ill, Carmilla; a little faint. You certainly must take some
wine," I said.
"Yes. I will. I'm better now. I shall be quite well in a few minutes.
Yes, do give me a little wine," answered Carmilla, as we approached
"Let us look again for a moment; it is the last time, perhaps, I shall
see the moonlight with you."
"How do you feel now, dear Carmilla? Are you really better?" I asked.
I was beginning to take alarm, lest she should have been stricken with
the strange epidemic that they said had invaded the country about us.
"Papa would be grieved beyond measure," I added, "if he thought you were
ever so little ill, without immediately letting us know. We have a very
skilful doctor near us, the physician who was with papa today."
"I'm sure he is. I know how kind you all are; but, dear child, I am
quite well again. There is nothing ever wrong with me, but a
little weakness.
"People say I am languid; I am incapable of exertion; I can scarcely walk
as far as a child of three years old: and every now and then the little
strength I have falters, and I become as you have just seen me. But
after all I am very easily set up again; in a moment I am perfectly
myself. See how I have recovered."
So, indeed, she had; and she and I talked a great deal, and very
animated she was; and the remainder of that evening passed without any
recurrence of what I called her infatuations. I mean her crazy talk and
looks, which embarrassed, and even frightened me.
But there occurred that night an event which gave my thoughts quite a
new turn, and seemed to startle even Carmilla's languid nature into
momentary energy.
_A Very Strange Agony_
When we got into the drawing room, and had sat down to our coffee and
chocolate, although Carmilla did not take any, she seemed quite herself
again, and Madame, and Mademoiselle De Lafontaine, joined us, and made a
little card party, in the course of which papa came in for what he
called his "dish of tea."
When the game was over he sat down beside Carmilla on the sofa, and
asked her, a little anxiously, whether she had heard from her mother
since her arrival.
She answered "No."
He then asked whether she knew where a letter would reach her at
"I cannot tell," she answered ambiguously, "but I have been thinking of
leaving you; you have been already too hospitable and too kind to me. I
have given you an infinity of trouble, and I should wish to take a
carriage tomorrow, and post in pursuit of her; I know where I shall
ultimately find her, although I dare not yet tell you."
"But you must not dream of any such thing," exclaimed my father, to my
great relief. "We can't afford to lose you so, and I won't consent to
your leaving us, except under the care of your mother, who was so good
as to consent to your remaining with us till she should herself return.
I should be quite happy if I knew that you heard from her: but this
evening the accounts of the progress of the mysterious disease that has
invaded our neighborhood, grow even more alarming; and my beautiful
guest, I do feel the responsibility, unaided by advice from your mother,
very much. But I shall do my best; and one thing is certain, that you
must not think of leaving us without her distinct direction to that
effect. We should suffer too much in parting from you to consent to
"Thank you, sir, a thousand times for your hospitality," she answered,
smiling bashfully. "You have all been too kind to me; I have seldom been
so happy in all my life before, as in your beautiful chateau, under your
care, and in the society of your dear daughter."
So he gallantly, in his old-fashioned way, kissed her hand, smiling and
pleased at her little speech.
I accompanied Carmilla as usual to her room, and sat and chatted with
her while she was preparing for bed.
"Do you think," I said at length, "that you will ever confide fully in
She turned round smiling, but made no answer, only continued to smile on
"You won't answer that?" I said. "You can't answer pleasantly; I ought
not to have asked you."
"You were quite right to ask me that, or anything. You do not know how
dear you are to me, or you could not think any confidence too great to
look for.  But I am under vows, no nun half so awfully, and I dare not
tell my story yet, even to you. The time is very near when you shall
know everything. You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is
always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you
cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me
and still come with me, and _hating_ me through death and after. There
is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature."
"Now, Carmilla, you are going to talk your wild nonsense again," I said
"Not I, silly little fool as I am, and full of whims and fancies; for
your sake I'll talk like a sage. Were you ever at a ball?"
"No; how you do run on. What is it like? How charming it must be."
"I almost forget, it is years ago."
"You are not so old. Your first ball can hardly be forgotten yet."
"I remember everything about it--with an effort. I see it all, as divers
see what is going on above them, through a medium, dense, rippling, but
transparent. There occurred that night what has confused the picture,
and made its colours faint. I was all but assassinated in my bed,
wounded here," she touched her breast, "and never was the same since."
"Were you near dying?"
"Yes, very--a cruel love--strange love, that would have taken my life.
Love will have its sacrifices. No sacrifice without blood. Let us go to
sleep now; I feel so lazy. How can I get up just now and lock my door?"
She was lying with her tiny hands buried in her rich wavy hair, under
her cheek, her little head upon the pillow, and her glittering eyes
followed me wherever I moved, with a kind of shy smile that I could
not decipher.
I bid her good night, and crept from the room with an uncomfortable
I often wondered whether our pretty guest ever said her prayers. I
certainly had never seen her upon her knees. In the morning she never
came down until long after our family prayers were over, and at night
she never left the drawing room to attend our brief evening prayers
in the hall.
If it had not been that it had casually come out in one of our careless
talks that she had been baptised, I should have doubted her being a
Christian. Religion was a subject on which I had never heard her speak a
word. If I had known the world better, this particular neglect or
antipathy would not have so much surprised me.
The precautions of nervous people are infectious, and persons of a like
temperament are pretty sure, after a time, to imitate them. I had
adopted Carmilla's habit of locking her bedroom door, having taken into
my head all her whimsical alarms about midnight invaders and prowling
assassins. I had also adopted her precaution of making a brief search
through her room, to satisfy herself that no lurking assassin or robber
was "ensconced."
These wise measures taken, I got into my bed and fell asleep. A light
was burning in my room. This was an old habit, of very early date, and
which nothing could have tempted me to dispense with.
Thus fortified I might take my rest in peace. But dreams come through
stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their
persons make their exits and their entrances as they please, and laugh
at locksmiths.
I had a dream that night that was the beginning of a very strange agony.
I cannot call it a nightmare, for I was quite conscious of being asleep.
But I was equally conscious of being in my room, and lying in bed,
precisely as I actually was. I saw, or fancied I saw, the room and its
furniture just as I had seen it last, except that it was very dark, and
I saw something moving round the foot of the bed, which at first I
could not accurately distinguish. But I soon saw that it was a
sooty-black animal that resembled a monstrous cat. It appeared to me
about four or five feet long for it measured fully the length of the
hearthrug as it passed over it; and it continued to-ing and fro-ing with
the lithe, sinister restlessness of a beast in a cage. I could not cry
out, although as you may suppose, I was terrified. Its pace was growing
faster, and the room rapidly darker and darker, and at length so dark
that I could no longer see anything of it but its eyes. I felt it spring
lightly on the bed. The two broad eyes approached my face, and suddenly
I felt a stinging pain as if two large needles darted, an inch or two
apart, deep into my breast. I waked with a scream. The room was lighted
by the candle that burnt there all through the night, and I saw a female
figure standing at the foot of the bed, a little at the right side. It
was in a dark loose dress, and its hair was down and covered its
shoulders. A block of stone could not have been more still. There was
not the slightest stir of respiration. As I stared at it, the figure
appeared to have changed its place, and was now nearer the door; then,
close to it, the door opened, and it passed out.
I was now relieved, and able to breathe and move. My first thought was
that Carmilla had been playing me a trick, and that I had forgotten to
secure my door. I hastened to it, and found it locked as usual on the
inside. I was afraid to open it--I was horrified. I sprang into my bed
and covered my head up in the bedclothes, and lay there more dead than
alive till morning.
_Descending_
It would be vain my attempting to tell you the horror with which, even
now, I recall the occurrence of that night. It was no such transitory
terror as a dream leaves behind it. It seemed to deepen by time, and
communicated itself to the room and the very furniture that had
encompassed the apparition.
I could not bear next day to be alone for a moment. I should have told
papa, but for two opposite reasons. At one time I thought he would laugh
at my story, and I could not bear its being treated as a jest; and at
another I thought he might fancy that I had been attacked by the
mysterious complaint which had invaded our neighborhood. I had myself no
misgiving of the kind, and as he had been rather an invalid for some
time, I was afraid of alarming him.
I was comfortable enough with my good-natured companions, Madame
Perrodon, and the vivacious Mademoiselle Lafontaine. They both perceived
that I was out of spirits and nervous, and at length I told them what
lay so heavy at my heart.
Mademoiselle laughed, but I fancied that Madame Perrodon looked anxious.
"By-the-by," said Mademoiselle, laughing, "the long lime tree walk,
behind Carmilla's bedroom window, is haunted!"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Madame, who probably thought the theme rather
inopportune, "and who tells that story, my dear?"
"Martin says that he came up twice, when the old yard gate was being
repaired, before sunrise, and twice saw the same female figure walking
down the lime tree avenue."
"So he well might, as long as there are cows to milk in the river
fields," said Madame.
"I daresay; but Martin chooses to be frightened, and never did I see
fool more frightened."
"You must not say a word about it to Carmilla, because she can see down
that walk from her room window," I interposed, "and she is, if possible,
a greater coward than I."
Carmilla came down rather later than usual that day.
"I was so frightened last night," she said, so soon as were together,
"and I am sure I should have seen something dreadful if it had not been
for that charm I bought from the poor little hunchback whom I called
such hard names. I had a dream of something black coming round my bed,
and I awoke in a perfect horror, and I really thought, for some seconds,
I saw a dark figure near the chimney-piece, but I felt under my pillow
for my charm, and the moment my fingers touched it, the figure
disappeared, and I felt quite certain, only that I had it by me, that
something frightful would have made its appearance, and, perhaps,
throttled me, as it did those poor people we heard of.
"Well, listen to me," I began, and recounted my adventure, at the
recital of which she appeared horrified.
"And had you the charm near you?" she asked, earnestly.
"No, I had dropped it into a china vase in the drawing room, but I shall
certainly take it with me tonight, as you have so much faith in it."
At this distance of time I cannot tell you, or even understand, how I
overcame my horror so effectually as to lie alone in my room that night.
I remember distinctly that I pinned the charm to my pillow. I fell
asleep almost immediately, and slept even more soundly than usual
Next night I passed as well. My sleep was delightfully deep and
But I wakened with a sense of lassitude and melancholy, which, however,
did not exceed a degree that was almost luxurious.
"Well, I told you so," said Carmilla, when I described my quiet sleep,
"I had such delightful sleep myself last night; I pinned the charm to
the breast of my nightdress. It was too far away the night before. I am
quite sure it was all fancy, except the dreams. I used to think that
evil spirits made dreams, but our doctor told me it is no such thing.
Only a fever passing by, or some other malady, as they often do, he
said, knocks at the door, and not being able to get in, passes on, with
that alarm."
"And what do you think the charm is?" said I.
"It has been fumigated or immersed in some drug, and is an antidote
against the malaria," she answered.
"Then it acts only on the body?"
"Certainly; you don't suppose that evil spirits are frightened by bits
of ribbon, or the perfumes of a druggist's shop? No, these complaints,
wandering in the air, begin by trying the nerves, and so infect the
brain, but before they can seize upon you, the antidote repels them.
That I am sure is what the charm has done for us. It is nothing magical,
it is simply natural."
I should have been happier if I could have quite agreed with Carmilla,
but I did my best, and the impression was a little losing its force.
For some nights I slept profoundly; but still every morning I felt the
same lassitude, and a languor weighed upon me all day. I felt myself a
changed girl. A strange melancholy was stealing over me, a melancholy
that I would not have interrupted. Dim thoughts of death began to open,
and an idea that I was slowly sinking took gentle, and, somehow, not
unwelcome, possession of me. If it was sad, the tone of mind which this
induced was also sweet.
Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it.
I would not admit that I was ill, I would not consent to tell my papa,
or to have the doctor sent for.
Carmilla became more devoted to me than ever, and her strange paroxysms
of languid adoration more frequent. She used to gloat on me with
increasing ardor the more my strength and spirits waned. This always
shocked me like a momentary glare of insanity.
Without knowing it, I was now in a pretty advanced stage of the
strangest illness under which mortal ever suffered. There was an
unaccountable fascination in its earlier symptoms that more than
reconciled me to the incapacitating effect of that stage of the malady.
This fascination increased for a time, until it reached a certain point,
when gradually a sense of the horrible mingled itself with it,
deepening, as you shall hear, until it discolored and perverted the
whole state of my life.
The first change I experienced was rather agreeable. It was very near
the turning point from which began the descent of Avernus.
Certain vague and strange sensations visited me in my sleep. The
prevailing one was of that pleasant, peculiar cold thrill which we feel
in bathing, when we move against the current of a river. This was soon
accompanied by dreams that seemed interminable, and were so vague that
I could never recollect their scenery and persons, or any one connected
portion of their action. But they left an awful impression, and a sense
of exhaustion, as if I had passed through a long period of great mental
exertion and danger.
After all these dreams there remained on waking a remembrance of having
been in a place very nearly dark, and of having spoken to people whom I
could not see; and especially of one clear voice, of a female's, very
deep, that spoke as if at a distance, slowly, and producing always the
same sensation of indescribable solemnity and fear. Sometimes there came
a sensation as if a hand was drawn softly along my cheek and neck.
Sometimes it was as if warm lips kissed me, and longer and longer and
more lovingly as they reached my throat, but there the caress fixed
itself. My heart beat faster, my breathing rose and fell rapidly and
full drawn; a sobbing, that rose into a sense of strangulation,
supervened, and turned into a dreadful convulsion, in which my senses
left me and I became unconscious.
It was now three weeks since the commencement of this unaccountable
My sufferings had, during the last week, told upon my appearance. I had
grown pale, my eyes were dilated and darkened underneath, and the
languor which I had long felt began to display itself in my countenance.
My father asked me often whether I was ill; but, with an obstinacy which
now seems to me unaccountable, I persisted in assuring him that I was
In a sense this was true. I had no pain, I could complain of no bodily
derangement. My complaint seemed to be one of the imagination, or the
nerves, and, horrible as my sufferings were, I kept them, with a morbid
reserve, very nearly to myself.
It could not be that terrible complaint which the peasants called the
oupire, for I had now been suffering for three weeks, and they were
seldom ill for much more than three days, when death put an end to
their miseries.
Carmilla complained of dreams and feverish sensations, but by no means
of so alarming a kind as mine. I say that mine were extremely alarming.
Had I been capable of comprehending my condition, I would have invoked
aid and advice on my knees. The narcotic of an unsuspected influence was
acting upon me, and my perceptions were benumbed.
I am going to tell you now of a dream that led immediately to an odd
One night, instead of the voice I was accustomed to hear in the dark, I
heard one, sweet and tender, and at the same time terrible, which said,
"Your mother warns you to beware of the assassin." At the same time a
light unexpectedly sprang up, and I saw Carmilla, standing, near the
foot of my bed, in her white nightdress, bathed, from her chin to her
feet, in one great stain of blood.
I wakened with a shriek, possessed with the one idea that Carmilla was
being murdered. I remember springing from my bed, and my next
recollection is that of standing on the lobby, crying for help.
Madame and Mademoiselle came scurrying out of their rooms in alarm; a
lamp burned always on the lobby, and seeing me, they soon learned the
cause of my terror.
I insisted on our knocking at Carmilla's door. Our knocking was
It soon became a pounding and an uproar. We shrieked her name, but all
We all grew frightened, for the door was locked. We hurried back, in
panic, to my room. There we rang the bell long and furiously. If my
father's room had been at that side of the house, we would have called
him up at once to our aid. But, alas! he was quite out of hearing, and
to reach him involved an excursion for which we none of us had courage.
Servants, however, soon came running up the stairs; I had got on my
dressing gown and slippers meanwhile, and my companions were already
similarly furnished. Recognizing the voices of the servants on the
lobby, we sallied out together; and having renewed, as fruitlessly, our
summons at Carmilla's door, I ordered the men to force the lock. They
did so, and we stood, holding our lights aloft, in the doorway, and so
stared into the room.
We called her by name; but there was still no reply. We looked round the
room. Everything was undisturbed. It was exactly in the state in which I
had left it on bidding her good night. But Carmilla was gone.
At sight of the room, perfectly undisturbed except for our violent
entrance, we began to cool a little, and soon recovered our senses
sufficiently to dismiss the men. It had struck Mademoiselle that
possibly Carmilla had been wakened by the uproar at her door, and in her
first panic had jumped from her bed, and hid herself in a press, or
behind a curtain, from which she could not, of course, emerge until the
majordomo and his myrmidons had withdrawn. We now recommenced our
search, and began to call her name again.
It was all to no purpose. Our perplexity and agitation increased. We
examined the windows, but they were secured. I implored of Carmilla, if
she had concealed herself, to play this cruel trick no longer--to come
out and to end our anxieties. It was all useless. I was by this time
convinced that she was not in the room, nor in the dressing room, the
door of which was still locked on this side. She could not have passed
it. I was utterly puzzled. Had Carmilla discovered one of those secret
passages which the old housekeeper said were known to exist in the
schloss, although the tradition of their exact situation had been lost?
A little time would, no doubt, explain all--utterly perplexed as, for
the present, we were.
It was past four o'clock, and I preferred passing the remaining hours of
darkness in Madame's room. Daylight brought no solution of the
The whole household, with my father at its head, was in a state of
agitation next morning. Every part of the chateau was searched. The
grounds were explored. No trace of the missing lady could be discovered.
The stream was about to be dragged; my father was in distraction; what a
tale to have to tell the poor girl's mother on her return. I, too, was
almost beside myself, though my grief was quite of a different kind.
The morning was passed in alarm and excitement. It was now one o'clock,
and still no tidings. I ran up to Carmilla's room, and found her
standing at her dressing table. I was astounded. I could not believe my
eyes. She beckoned me to her with her pretty finger, in silence. Her
face expressed extreme fear.
I ran to her in an ecstasy of joy; I kissed and embraced her again and
again. I ran to the bell and rang it vehemently, to bring others to the
spot who might at once relieve my father's anxiety.
"Dear Carmilla, what has become of you all this time? We have been in
agonies of anxiety about you," I exclaimed. "Where have you been? How
did you come back?"
"Last night has been a night of wonders," she said.
"For mercy's sake, explain all you can."
"It was past two last night," she said, "when I went to sleep as usual
in my bed, with my doors locked, that of the dressing room, and that
opening upon the gallery. My sleep was uninterrupted, and, so far as I
know, dreamless; but I woke just now on the sofa in the dressing room
there, and I found the door between the rooms open, and the other door
forced. How could all this have happened without my being wakened? It
must have been accompanied with a great deal of noise, and I am
particularly easily wakened; and how could I have been carried out of my
bed without my sleep having been interrupted, I whom the slightest stir
By this time, Madame, Mademoiselle, my father, and a number of the
servants were in the room. Carmilla was, of course, overwhelmed with
inquiries, congratulations, and welcomes. She had but one story to tell,
and seemed the least able of all the party to suggest any way of
accounting for what had happened.
My father took a turn up and down the room, thinking. I saw Carmilla's
eye follow him for a moment with a sly, dark glance.
When my father had sent the servants away, Mademoiselle having gone in
search of a little bottle of valerian and salvolatile, and there being
no one now in the room with Carmilla, except my father, Madame, and
myself, he came to her thoughtfully, took her hand very kindly, led her
to the sofa, and sat down beside her.
"Will you forgive me, my dear, if I risk a conjecture, and ask a
"Who can have a better right?" she said. "Ask what you please, and I
will tell you everything. But my story is simply one of bewilderment and
darkness. I know absolutely nothing. Put any question you please, but
you know, of course, the limitations mamma has placed me under."
"Perfectly, my dear child. I need not approach the topics on which she
desires our silence. Now, the marvel of last night consists in your
having been removed from your bed and your room, without being wakened,
and this removal having occurred apparently while the windows were still
secured, and the two doors locked upon the inside. I will tell you my
theory and ask you a question."
Carmilla was leaning on her hand dejectedly; Madame and I were
listening breathlessly.
"Now, my question is this. Have you ever been suspected of walking in
your sleep?"
"Never, since I was very young indeed."
"But you did walk in your sleep when you were young?"
"Yes; I know I did. I have been told so often by my old nurse."
My father smiled and nodded.
"Well, what has happened is this. You got up in your sleep, unlocked the
door, not leaving the key, as usual, in the lock, but taking it out and
locking it on the outside; you again took the key out, and carried it
away with you to some one of the five-and-twenty rooms on this floor, or
perhaps upstairs or downstairs. There are so many rooms and closets, so
much heavy furniture, and such accumulations of lumber, that it would
require a week to search this old house thoroughly. Do you see, now,
what I mean?"
"I do, but not all," she answered.
"And how, papa, do you account for her finding herself on the sofa in
the dressing room, which we had searched so carefully?"
"She came there after you had searched it, still in her sleep, and at
last awoke spontaneously, and was as much surprised to find herself
where she was as any one else. I wish all mysteries were as easily and
innocently explained as yours, Carmilla," he said, laughing. "And so we
may congratulate ourselves on the certainty that the most natural
explanation of the occurrence is one that involves no drugging, no
tampering with locks, no burglars, or poisoners, or witches--nothing
that need alarm Carmilla, or anyone else, for our safety."
Carmilla was looking charmingly. Nothing could be more beautiful than
her tints. Her beauty was, I think, enhanced by that graceful languor
that was peculiar to her. I think my father was silently contrasting her
looks with mine, for he said:
"I wish my poor Laura was looking more like herself"; and he sighed.
So our alarms were happily ended, and Carmilla restored to her friends.
_The Doctor_
As Carmilla would not hear of an attendant sleeping in her room, my
father arranged that a servant should sleep outside her door, so that
she would not attempt to make another such excursion without being
arrested at her own door.
That night passed quietly; and next morning early, the doctor, whom my
father had sent for without telling me a word about it, arrived to
Madame accompanied me to the library; and there the grave little doctor,
with white hair and spectacles, whom I mentioned before, was waiting to
I told him my story, and as I proceeded he grew graver and graver.
We were standing, he and I, in the recess of one of the windows, facing
one another. When my statement was over, he leaned with his shoulders
against the wall, and with his eyes fixed on me earnestly, with an
interest in which was a dash of horror.
After a minute's reflection, he asked Madame if he could see my father.
He was sent for accordingly, and as he entered, smiling, he said:
"I dare say, doctor, you are going to tell me that I am an old fool for
having brought you here; I hope I am."
But his smile faded into shadow as the doctor, with a very grave face,
beckoned him to him.
He and the doctor talked for some time in the same recess where I had
just conferred with the physician. It seemed an earnest and
argumentative conversation. The room is very large, and I and Madame
stood together, burning with curiosity, at the farther end. Not a word
could we hear, however, for they spoke in a very low tone, and the deep
recess of the window quite concealed the doctor from view, and very
nearly my father, whose foot, arm, and shoulder only could we see; and
the voices were, I suppose, all the less audible for the sort of closet
which the thick wall and window formed.
After a time my father's face looked into the room; it was pale,
thoughtful, and, I fancied, agitated.
"Laura, dear, come here for a moment. Madame, we shan't trouble you, the
doctor says, at present."
Accordingly I approached, for the first time a little alarmed; for,
although I felt very weak, I did not feel ill; and strength, one always
fancies, is a thing that may be picked up when we please.
My father held out his hand to me, as I drew near, but he was looking at
the doctor, and he said:
"It certainly is very odd; I don't understand it quite. Laura, come
here, dear; now attend to Doctor Spielsberg, and recollect yourself."
"You mentioned a sensation like that of two needles piercing the skin,
somewhere about your neck, on the night when you experienced your first
horrible dream. Is there still any soreness?"
"None at all," I answered.
"Can you indicate with your finger about the point at which you think
this occurred?"
"Very little below my throat--here," I answered.
I wore a morning dress, which covered the place I pointed to.
"Now you can satisfy yourself," said the doctor. "You won't mind your
papa's lowering your dress a very little. It is necessary, to detect a
symptom of the complaint under which you have been suffering."
I acquiesced. It was only an inch or two below the edge of my collar.
"God bless me!--so it is," exclaimed my father, growing pale.
"You see it now with your own eyes," said the doctor, with a gloomy
"What is it?" I exclaimed, beginning to be frightened.
"Nothing, my dear young lady, but a small blue spot, about the size of
the tip of your little finger; and now," he continued, turning to papa,
"the question is what is best to be done?"
"Is there any danger?" I urged, in great trepidation.
"I trust not, my dear," answered the doctor. "I don't see why you should
not recover. I don't see why you should not begin immediately to get
better. That is the point at which the sense of strangulation begins?"
"Yes," I answered.
"And--recollect as well as you can--the same point was a kind of center
of that thrill which you described just now, like the current of a cold
stream running against you?"
"It may have been; I think it was."
"Ay, you see?" he added, turning to my father. "Shall I say a word to
"Certainly," said my father.
He called Madame to him, and said:
"I find my young friend here far from well. It won't be of any great
consequence, I hope; but it will be necessary that some steps be taken,
which I will explain by-and-by; but in the meantime, Madame, you will
be so good as not to let Miss Laura be alone for one moment. That is the
only direction I need give for the present. It is indispensable."
"We may rely upon your kindness, Madame, I know," added my father.
Madame satisfied him eagerly.
"And you, dear Laura, I know you will observe the doctor's direction."
"I shall have to ask your opinion upon another patient, whose symptoms
slightly resemble those of my daughter, that have just been detailed to
you--very much milder in degree, but I believe quite of the same sort.
She is a young lady--our guest; but as you say you will be passing this
way again this evening, you can't do better than take your supper here,
and you can then see her. She does not come down till the afternoon."
"I thank you," said the doctor. "I shall be with you, then, at about
seven this evening."
And then they repeated their directions to me and to Madame, and with
this parting charge my father left us, and walked out with the doctor;
and I saw them pacing together up and down between the road and the
moat, on the grassy platform in front of the castle, evidently absorbed
in earnest conversation.
The doctor did not return. I saw him mount his horse there, take his
leave, and ride away eastward through the forest.
Nearly at the same time I saw the man arrive from Dranfield with the
letters, and dismount and hand the bag to my father.
In the meantime, Madame and I were both busy, lost in conjecture as to
the reasons of the singular and earnest direction which the doctor and
my father had concurred in imposing. Madame, as she afterwards told me,
was afraid the doctor apprehended a sudden seizure, and that, without
prompt assistance, I might either lose my life in a fit, or at least be
seriously hurt.
The interpretation did not strike me; and I fancied, perhaps luckily for
my nerves, that the arrangement was prescribed simply to secure a
companion, who would prevent my taking too much exercise, or eating
unripe fruit, or doing any of the fifty foolish things to which young
people are supposed to be prone.
About half an hour after my father came in--he had a letter in his
hand--and said:
"This letter had been delayed; it is from General Spielsdorf. He might
have been here yesterday, he may not come till tomorrow or he may be
here today."
He put the open letter into my hand; but he did not look pleased, as he
used when a guest, especially one so much loved as the General,
On the contrary, he looked as if he wished him at the bottom of the Red
Sea. There was plainly something on his mind which he did not choose
"Papa, darling, will you tell me this?" said I, suddenly laying my hand
on his arm, and looking, I am sure, imploringly in his face.
"Perhaps," he answered, smoothing my hair caressingly over my eyes.
"Does the doctor think me very ill?"
"No, dear; he thinks, if right steps are taken, you will be quite well
again, at least, on the high road to a complete recovery, in a day or
two," he answered, a little dryly. "I wish our good friend, the General,
had chosen any other time; that is, I wish you had been perfectly well
to receive him."
"But do tell me, papa," I insisted, "what does he think is the matter
"Nothing; you must not plague me with questions," he answered, with more
irritation than I ever remember him to have displayed before; and seeing
that I looked wounded, I suppose, he kissed me, and added, "You shall
know all about it in a day or two; that is, all that I know. In the
meantime you are not to trouble your head about it."
He turned and left the room, but came back before I had done wondering
and puzzling over the oddity of all this; it was merely to say that he
was going to Karnstein, and had ordered the carriage to be ready at
twelve, and that I and Madame should accompany him; he was going to see the
priest who lived near those picturesque grounds, upon business, and as
Carmilla had never seen them, she could follow, when she came down, with
Mademoiselle, who would bring materials for what you call a picnic,
which might be laid for us in the ruined castle.
At twelve o'clock, accordingly, I was ready, and not long after, my
father, Madame and I set out upon our projected drive.
Passing the drawbridge we turn to the right, and follow the road over
the steep Gothic bridge, westward, to reach the deserted village and
ruined castle of Karnstein.
No sylvan drive can be fancied prettier. The ground breaks into gentle
hills and hollows, all clothed with beautiful wood, totally destitute of
the comparative formality which artificial planting and early culture
and pruning impart.
The irregularities of the ground often lead the road out of its course,
and cause it to wind beautifully round the sides of broken hollows and
the steeper sides of the hills, among varieties of ground almost
inexhaustible.
Turning one of these points, we suddenly encountered our old friend, the
General, riding towards us, attended by a mounted servant. His
portmanteaus were following in a hired wagon, such as we term a cart.
The General dismounted as we pulled up, and, after the usual greetings,
was easily persuaded to accept the vacant seat in the carriage and send
his horse on with his servant to the schloss.
It was about ten months since we had last seen him: but that time had
sufficed to make an alteration of years in his appearance. He had grown
thinner; something of gloom and anxiety had taken the place of that
cordial serenity which used to characterize his features. His dark blue
eyes, always penetrating, now gleamed with a sterner light from under
his shaggy grey eyebrows. It was not such a change as grief alone
usually induces, and angrier passions seemed to have had their share in
bringing it about.
We had not long resumed our drive, when the General began to talk, with
his usual soldierly directness, of the bereavement, as he termed it,
which he had sustained in the death of his beloved niece and ward; and
he then broke out in a tone of intense bitterness and fury, inveighing
against the "hellish arts" to which she had fallen a victim, and
expressing, with more exasperation than piety, his wonder that Heaven
should tolerate so monstrous an indulgence of the lusts and malignity
My father, who saw at once that something very extraordinary had
befallen, asked him, if not too painful to him, to detail the
circumstances which he thought justified the strong terms in which he
expressed himself.
"I should tell you all with pleasure," said the General, "but you would
not believe me."
"Why should I not?" he asked.
"Because," he answered testily, "you believe in nothing but what
consists with your own prejudices and illusions. I remember when I was
like you, but I have learned better."
"Try me," said my father; "I am not such a dogmatist as you suppose.
Besides which, I very well know that you generally require proof for
what you believe, and am, therefore, very strongly predisposed to
respect your conclusions."
"You are right in supposing that I have not been led lightly into a
belief in the marvelous--for what I have experienced is marvelous--and I
have been forced by extraordinary evidence to credit that which ran
counter, diametrically, to all my theories. I have been made the dupe of
a preternatural conspiracy."
Notwithstanding his professions of confidence in the General's
penetration, I saw my father, at this point, glance at the General,
with, as I thought, a marked suspicion of his sanity.
The General did not see it, luckily. He was looking gloomily and
curiously into the glades and vistas of the woods that were opening
"You are going to the Ruins of Karnstein?" he said. "Yes, it is a lucky
coincidence; do you know I was going to ask you to bring me there to
inspect them. I have a special object in exploring. There is a ruined
chapel, ain't there, with a great many tombs of that extinct family?"
"So there are--highly interesting," said my father. "I hope you are
thinking of claiming the title and estates?"
My father said this gaily, but the General did not recollect the laugh,
or even the smile, which courtesy exacts for a friend's joke; on the
contrary, he looked grave and even fierce, ruminating on a matter that
stirred his anger and horror.
"Something very different," he said, gruffly. "I mean to unearth some of
those fine people. I hope, by God's blessing, to accomplish a pious
sacrilege here, which will relieve our earth of certain monsters, and
enable honest people to sleep in their beds without being assailed by
murderers. I have strange things to tell you, my dear friend, such as I
myself would have scouted as incredible a few months since."
My father looked at him again, but this time not with a glance of
suspicion--with an eye, rather, of keen intelligence and alarm.
"The house of Karnstein," he said, "has been long extinct: a hundred
years at least. My dear wife was maternally descended from the
Karnsteins. But the name and title have long ceased to exist. The castle
is a ruin; the very village is deserted; it is fifty years since the
smoke of a chimney was seen there; not a roof left."
"Quite true. I have heard a great deal about that since I last saw you;
a great deal that will astonish you. But I had better relate everything
in the order in which it occurred," said the General. "You saw my dear
ward--my child, I may call her. No creature could have been more
beautiful, and only three months ago none more blooming."
"Yes, poor thing! when I saw her last she certainly was quite lovely,"
said my father. "I was grieved and shocked more than I can tell you, my
dear friend; I knew what a blow it was to you."
He took the General's hand, and they exchanged a kind pressure. Tears
gathered in the old soldier's eyes. He did not seek to conceal them.
"We have been very old friends; I knew you would feel for me, childless
as I am. She had become an object of very near interest to me, and
repaid my care by an affection that cheered my home and made my life
happy. That is all gone. The years that remain to me on earth may not be
very long; but by God's mercy I hope to accomplish a service to mankind
before I die, and to subserve the vengeance of Heaven upon the fiends
who have murdered my poor child in the spring of her hopes and beauty!"
"You said, just now, that you intended relating everything as it
occurred," said my father. "Pray do; I assure you that it is not mere
curiosity that prompts me."
By this time we had reached the point at which the Drunstall road, by
which the General had come, diverges from the road which we were
traveling to Karnstein.
"How far is it to the ruins?" inquired the General, looking anxiously
"About half a league," answered my father. "Pray let us hear the story
you were so good as to promise."
"With all my heart," said the General, with an effort; and after a short
pause in which to arrange his subject, he commenced one of the strangest
narratives I ever heard.
"My dear child was looking forward with great pleasure to the visit you
had been so good as to arrange for her to your charming daughter." Here
he made me a gallant but melancholy bow. "In the meantime we had an
invitation to my old friend the Count Carlsfeld, whose schloss is about
six leagues to the other side of Karnstein. It was to attend the series
of fetes which, you remember, were given by him in honor of his
illustrious visitor, the Grand Duke Charles."
"Yes; and very splendid, I believe, they were," said my father.
"Princely! But then his hospitalities are quite regal. He has Aladdin's
lamp. The night from which my sorrow dates was devoted to a magnificent
masquerade. The grounds were thrown open, the trees hung with colored
lamps. There was such a display of fireworks as Paris itself had never
witnessed. And such music--music, you know, is my weakness--such
ravishing music! The finest instrumental band, perhaps, in the world,
and the finest singers who could be collected from all the great operas
in Europe. As you wandered through these fantastically illuminated
grounds, the moon-lighted chateau throwing a rosy light from its long
rows of windows, you would suddenly hear these ravishing voices stealing
from the silence of some grove, or rising from boats upon the lake. I
felt myself, as I looked and listened, carried back into the romance and
poetry of my early youth.
"When the fireworks were ended, and the ball beginning, we returned to
the noble suite of rooms that were thrown open to the dancers. A masked
ball, you know, is a beautiful sight; but so brilliant a spectacle of
the kind I never saw before.
"It was a very aristocratic assembly. I was myself almost the only
'nobody' present.
"My dear child was looking quite beautiful. She wore no mask. Her
excitement and delight added an unspeakable charm to her features,
always lovely. I remarked a young lady, dressed magnificently, but
wearing a mask, who appeared to me to be observing my ward with
extraordinary interest. I had seen her, earlier in the evening, in the
great hall, and again, for a few minutes, walking near us, on the
terrace under the castle windows, similarly employed. A lady, also
masked, richly and gravely dressed, and with a stately air, like a
person of rank, accompanied her as a chaperon.
"Had the young lady not worn a mask, I could, of course, have been much
more certain upon the question whether she was really watching my
poor darling.
"I am now well assured that she was.
"We were now in one of the salons. My poor dear child had been dancing,
and was resting a little in one of the chairs near the door; I was
standing near. The two ladies I have mentioned had approached and the
younger took the chair next my ward; while her companion stood beside
me, and for a little time addressed herself, in a low tone, to
"Availing herself of the privilege of her mask, she turned to me, and in
the tone of an old friend, and calling me by my name, opened a
conversation with me, which piqued my curiosity a good deal. She
referred to many scenes where she had met me--at Court, and at
distinguished houses. She alluded to little incidents which I had long
ceased to think of, but which, I found, had only lain in abeyance in my
memory, for they instantly started into life at her touch.
"I became more and more curious to ascertain who she was, every moment.
She parried my attempts to discover very adroitly and pleasantly. The
knowledge she showed of many passages in my life seemed to me all but
unaccountable; and she appeared to take a not unnatural pleasure in
foiling my curiosity, and in seeing me flounder in my eager perplexity,
from one conjecture to another.
"In the meantime the young lady, whom her mother called by the odd name
of Millarca, when she once or twice addressed her, had, with the same
ease and grace, got into conversation with my ward.
"She introduced herself by saying that her mother was a very old
acquaintance of mine. She spoke of the agreeable audacity which a mask
rendered practicable; she talked like a friend; she admired her dress,
and insinuated very prettily her admiration of her beauty. She amused
her with laughing criticisms upon the people who crowded the ballroom,
and laughed at my poor child's fun. She was very witty and lively when
she pleased, and after a time they had grown very good friends, and the
young stranger lowered her mask, displaying a remarkably beautiful face.
I had never seen it before, neither had my dear child. But though it was
new to us, the features were so engaging, as well as lovely, that it
was impossible not to feel the attraction powerfully. My poor girl did
so. I never saw anyone more taken with another at first sight, unless,
indeed, it was the stranger herself, who seemed quite to have lost her
heart to her.
"In the meantime, availing myself of the license of a masquerade, I put
not a few questions to the elder lady.
"'You have puzzled me utterly,' I said, laughing. 'Is that not enough?
Won't you, now, consent to stand on equal terms, and do me the kindness
to remove your mask?'
"'Can any request be more unreasonable?' she replied. 'Ask a lady to
yield an advantage! Beside, how do you know you should recognize me?
Years make changes.'
"'As you see,' I said, with a bow, and, I suppose, a rather melancholy
little laugh.
"'As philosophers tell us,' she said; 'and how do you know that a sight
of my face would help you?'
"'I should take chance for that,' I answered. 'It is vain trying to make
yourself out an old woman; your figure betrays you.'
"'Years, nevertheless, have passed since I saw you, rather since you saw
me, for that is what I am considering. Millarca, there, is my daughter;
I cannot then be young, even in the opinion of people whom time has
taught to be indulgent, and I may not like to be compared with what you
remember me. You have no mask to remove. You can offer me nothing in
"'My petition is to your pity, to remove it.'
"'And mine to yours, to let it stay where it is,' she replied.
"'Well, then, at least you will tell me whether you are French or
German; you speak both languages so perfectly.'
"'I don't think I shall tell you that, General; you intend a surprise,
and are meditating the particular point of attack.'
"'At all events, you won't deny this,' I said, 'that being honored by
your permission to converse, I ought to know how to address you. Shall I
say Madame la Comtesse?'
"She laughed, and she would, no doubt, have met me with another
evasion--if, indeed, I can treat any occurrence in an interview every
circumstance of which was prearranged, as I now believe, with the
profoundest cunning, as liable to be modified by accident.
"'As to that,' she began; but she was interrupted, almost as she opened
her lips, by a gentleman, dressed in black, who looked particularly
elegant and distinguished, with this drawback, that his face was the
most deadly pale I ever saw, except in death. He was in no
masquerade--in the plain evening dress of a gentleman; and he said,
without a smile, but with a courtly and unusually low bow:--
"'Will Madame la Comtesse permit me to say a very few words which may
interest her?'
"The lady turned quickly to him, and touched her lip in token of
silence; she then said to me, 'Keep my place for me, General; I shall
return when I have said a few words.'
"And with this injunction, playfully given, she walked a little aside
with the gentleman in black, and talked for some minutes, apparently
very earnestly. They then walked away slowly together in the crowd, and
I lost them for some minutes.
"I spent the interval in cudgeling my brains for a conjecture as to the
identity of the lady who seemed to remember me so kindly, and I was
thinking of turning about and joining in the conversation between my
pretty ward and the Countess's daughter, and trying whether, by the time
she returned, I might not have a surprise in store for her, by having
her name, title, chateau, and estates at my fingers' ends. But at this
moment she returned, accompanied by the pale man in black, who said:
"'I shall return and inform Madame la Comtesse when her carriage is at
"He withdrew with a bow."
_A Petition_
"'Then we are to lose Madame la Comtesse, but I hope only for a few
hours,' I said, with a low bow.
"'It may be that only, or it may be a few weeks. It was very unlucky his
speaking to me just now as he did. Do you now know me?'
"I assured her I did not.
"'You shall know me,' she said, 'but not at present. We are older and
better friends than, perhaps, you suspect. I cannot yet declare myself.
I shall in three weeks pass your beautiful schloss, about which I have
been making enquiries. I shall then look in upon you for an hour or two,
and renew a friendship which I never think of without a thousand
pleasant recollections. This moment a piece of news has reached me like
a thunderbolt. I must set out now, and travel by a devious route, nearly
a hundred miles, with all the dispatch I can possibly make. My
perplexities multiply. I am only deterred by the compulsory reserve I
practice as to my name from making a very singular request of you. My
poor child has not quite recovered her strength. Her horse fell with
her, at a hunt which she had ridden out to witness, her nerves have not
yet recovered the shock, and our physician says that she must on no
account exert herself for some time to come. We came here, in
consequence, by very easy stages--hardly six leagues a day. I must now
travel day and night, on a mission of life and death--a mission the
critical and momentous nature of which I shall be able to explain to you
when we meet, as I hope we shall, in a few weeks, without the necessity
of any concealment.'
"She went on to make her petition, and it was in the tone of a person
from whom such a request amounted to conferring, rather than seeking
"This was only in manner, and, as it seemed, quite unconsciously. Than
the terms in which it was expressed, nothing could be more deprecatory.
It was simply that I would consent to take charge of her daughter during
her absence.
"This was, all things considered, a strange, not to say, an audacious
request. She in some sort disarmed me, by stating and admitting
everything that could be urged against it, and throwing herself entirely
upon my chivalry. At the same moment, by a fatality that seems to have
predetermined all that happened, my poor child came to my side, and, in
an undertone, besought me to invite her new friend, Millarca, to pay us
a visit. She had just been sounding her, and thought, if her mamma would
allow her, she would like it extremely.
"At another time I should have told her to wait a little, until, at
least, we knew who they were. But I had not a moment to think in. The
two ladies assailed me together, and I must confess the refined and
beautiful face of the young lady, about which there was something
extremely engaging, as well as the elegance and fire of high birth,
determined me; and, quite overpowered, I submitted, and undertook, too
easily, the care of the young lady, whom her mother called Millarca.
"The Countess beckoned to her daughter, who listened with grave
attention while she told her, in general terms, how suddenly and
peremptorily she had been summoned, and also of the arrangement she had
made for her under my care, adding that I was one of her earliest and
most valued friends.
"I made, of course, such speeches as the case seemed to call for, and
found myself, on reflection, in a position which I did not half like.
"The gentleman in black returned, and very ceremoniously conducted the
lady from the room.
"The demeanor of this gentleman was such as to impress me with the
conviction that the Countess was a lady of very much more importance
than her modest title alone might have led me to assume.
"Her last charge to me was that no attempt was to be made to learn more
about her than I might have already guessed, until her return. Our
distinguished host, whose guest she was, knew her reasons.
"'But here,' she said, 'neither I nor my daughter could safely remain
for more than a day. I removed my mask imprudently for a moment, about
an hour ago, and, too late, I fancied you saw me. So I resolved to seek
an opportunity of talking a little to you. Had I found that you had seen
me, I would have thrown myself on your high sense of honor to keep my
secret some weeks. As it is, I am satisfied that you did not see me; but
if you now suspect, or, on reflection, should suspect, who I am, I
commit myself, in like manner, entirely to your honor. My daughter will
observe the same secrecy, and I well know that you will, from time to
time, remind her, lest she should thoughtlessly disclose it.'
"She whispered a few words to her daughter, kissed her hurriedly twice,
and went away, accompanied by the pale gentleman in black, and
disappeared in the crowd.
"'In the next room,' said Millarca, 'there is a window that looks upon
the hall door. I should like to see the last of mamma, and to kiss my
hand to her.'
"We assented, of course, and accompanied her to the window. We looked
out, and saw a handsome old-fashioned carriage, with a troop of couriers
and footmen. We saw the slim figure of the pale gentleman in black, as
he held a thick velvet cloak, and placed it about her shoulders and
threw the hood over her head. She nodded to him, and just touched his
hand with hers. He bowed low repeatedly as the door closed, and the
carriage began to move.
"'She is gone,' said Millarca, with a sigh.
"'She is gone,' I repeated to myself, for the first time--in the hurried
moments that had elapsed since my consent--reflecting upon the folly
"'She did not look up,' said the young lady, plaintively.
"'The Countess had taken off her mask, perhaps, and did not care to show
her face,' I said; 'and she could not know that you were in the window.'
"She sighed, and looked in my face. She was so beautiful that I
relented. I was sorry I had for a moment repented of my hospitality, and
I determined to make her amends for the unavowed churlishness of my
"The young lady, replacing her mask, joined my ward in persuading me to
return to the grounds, where the concert was soon to be renewed. We did
so, and walked up and down the terrace that lies under the
castle windows.
"Millarca became very intimate with us, and amused us with lively
descriptions and stories of most of the great people whom we saw upon
the terrace. I liked her more and more every minute. Her gossip without
being ill-natured, was extremely diverting to me, who had been so long
out of the great world. I thought what life she would give to our
sometimes lonely evenings at home.
"This ball was not over until the morning sun had almost reached the
horizon. It pleased the Grand Duke to dance till then, so loyal people
could not go away, or think of bed.
"We had just got through a crowded saloon, when my ward asked me what
had become of Millarca. I thought she had been by her side, and she
fancied she was by mine. The fact was, we had lost her.
"All my efforts to find her were vain. I feared that she had mistaken,
in the confusion of a momentary separation from us, other people for her
new friends, and had, possibly, pursued and lost them in the extensive
grounds which were thrown open to us.
"Now, in its full force, I recognized a new folly in my having
undertaken the charge of a young lady without so much as knowing her
name; and fettered as I was by promises, of the reasons for imposing
which I knew nothing, I could not even point my inquiries by saying that
the missing young lady was the daughter of the Countess who had taken
her departure a few hours before.
"Morning broke. It was clear daylight before I gave up my search. It was
not till near two o'clock next day that we heard anything of my
missing charge.
"At about that time a servant knocked at my niece's door, to say that he
had been earnestly requested by a young lady, who appeared to be in
great distress, to make out where she could find the General Baron
Spielsdorf and the young lady his daughter, in whose charge she had been
left by her mother.
"There could be no doubt, notwithstanding the slight inaccuracy, that
our young friend had turned up; and so she had. Would to heaven we
had lost her!
"She told my poor child a story to account for her having failed to
recover us for so long. Very late, she said, she had got to the
housekeeper's bedroom in despair of finding us, and had then fallen
into a deep sleep which, long as it was, had hardly sufficed to recruit
her strength after the fatigues of the ball.
"That day Millarca came home with us. I was only too happy, after all,
to have secured so charming a companion for my dear girl."
_The Woodman_
"There soon, however, appeared some drawbacks. In the first place,
Millarca complained of extreme languor--the weakness that remained after
her late illness--and she never emerged from her room till the afternoon
was pretty far advanced. In the next place, it was accidentally
discovered, although she always locked her door on the inside, and never
disturbed the key from its place till she admitted the maid to assist at
her toilet, that she was undoubtedly sometimes absent from her room in
the very early morning, and at various times later in the day, before
she wished it to be understood that she was stirring. She was repeatedly
seen from the windows of the schloss, in the first faint grey of the
morning, walking through the trees, in an easterly direction, and
looking like a person in a trance. This convinced me that she walked in
her sleep. But this hypothesis did not solve the puzzle. How did she
pass out from her room, leaving the door locked on the inside? How did
she escape from the house without unbarring door or window?
"In the midst of my perplexities, an anxiety of a far more urgent kind
presented itself.
"My dear child began to lose her looks and health, and that in a manner
so mysterious, and even horrible, that I became thoroughly frightened.
"She was at first visited by appalling dreams; then, as she fancied, by
a specter, sometimes resembling Millarca, sometimes in the shape of a
beast, indistinctly seen, walking round the foot of her bed, from
side to side.
"Lastly came sensations. One, not unpleasant, but very peculiar, she
said, resembled the flow of an icy stream against her breast. At a later
time, she felt something like a pair of large needles pierce her, a
little below the throat, with a very sharp pain. A few nights after,
followed a gradual and convulsive sense of strangulation; then came
unconsciousness."
I could hear distinctly every word the kind old General was saying,
because by this time we were driving upon the short grass that spreads
on either side of the road as you approach the roofless village which
had not shown the smoke of a chimney for more than half a century.
You may guess how strangely I felt as I heard my own symptoms so exactly
described in those which had been experienced by the poor girl who, but
for the catastrophe which followed, would have been at that moment a
visitor at my father's chateau. You may suppose, also, how I felt as I
heard him detail habits and mysterious peculiarities which were, in
fact, those of our beautiful guest, Carmilla!
A vista opened in the forest; we were on a sudden under the chimneys and
gables of the ruined village, and the towers and battlements of the
dismantled castle, round which gigantic trees are grouped, overhung us
from a slight eminence.
In a frightened dream I got down from the carriage, and in silence, for
we had each abundant matter for thinking; we soon mounted the ascent,
and were among the spacious chambers, winding stairs, and dark
corridors of the castle.
"And this was once the palatial residence of the Karnsteins!" said the
old General at length, as from a great window he looked out across the
village, and saw the wide, undulating expanse of forest. "It was a bad
family, and here its bloodstained annals were written," he continued.
"It is hard that they should, after death, continue to plague the human
race with their atrocious lusts. That is the chapel of the Karnsteins,
down there."
He pointed down to the grey walls of the Gothic building partly visible
through the foliage, a little way down the steep. "And I hear the axe of
a woodman," he added, "busy among the trees that surround it; he
possibly may give us the information of which I am in search, and point
out the grave of Mircalla, Countess of Karnstein. These rustics preserve
the local traditions of great families, whose stories die out among the
rich and titled so soon as the families themselves become extinct."
"We have a portrait, at home, of Mircalla, the Countess Karnstein;
should you like to see it?" asked my father.
"Time enough, dear friend," replied the General. "I believe that I have
seen the original; and one motive which has led me to you earlier than I
at first intended, was to explore the chapel which we are now
approaching."
"What! see the Countess Mircalla," exclaimed my father; "why, she has
been dead more than a century!"
"Not so dead as you fancy, I am told," answered the General.
"I confess, General, you puzzle me utterly," replied my father, looking
at him, I fancied, for a moment with a return of the suspicion I
detected before. But although there was anger and detestation, at times,
in the old General's manner, there was nothing flighty.
"There remains to me," he said, as we passed under the heavy arch of
the Gothic church--for its dimensions would have justified its being so
styled--"but one object which can interest me during the few years that
remain to me on earth, and that is to wreak on her the vengeance which,
I thank God, may still be accomplished by a mortal arm."
"What vengeance can you mean?" asked my father, in increasing amazement.
"I mean, to decapitate the monster," he answered, with a fierce flush,
and a stamp that echoed mournfully through the hollow ruin, and his
clenched hand was at the same moment raised, as if it grasped the handle
of an axe, while he shook it ferociously in the air.
"What?" exclaimed my father, more than ever bewildered.
"To strike her head off."
"Cut her head off!"
"Aye, with a hatchet, with a spade, or with anything that can cleave
through her murderous throat. You shall hear," he answered, trembling
with rage. And hurrying forward he said:
"That beam will answer for a seat; your dear child is fatigued; let her
be seated, and I will, in a few sentences, close my dreadful story."
The squared block of wood, which lay on the grass-grown pavement of the
chapel, formed a bench on which I was very glad to seat myself, and in
the meantime the General called to the woodman, who had been removing
some boughs which leaned upon the old walls; and, axe in hand, the hardy
old fellow stood before us.
He could not tell us anything of these monuments; but there was an old
man, he said, a ranger of this forest, at present sojourning in the
house of the priest, about two miles away, who could point out every
monument of the old Karnstein family; and, for a trifle, he undertook
to bring him back with him, if we would lend him one of our horses, in
little more than half an hour.
"Have you been long employed about this forest?" asked my father of the
"I have been a woodman here," he answered in his patois, "under the
forester, all my days; so has my father before me, and so on, as many
generations as I can count up. I could show you the very house in the
village here, in which my ancestors lived."
"How came the village to be deserted?" asked the General.
"It was troubled by revenants, sir; several were tracked to their
graves, there detected by the usual tests, and extinguished in the usual
way, by decapitation, by the stake, and by burning; but not until many
of the villagers were killed.
"But after all these proceedings according to law," he continued--"so
many graves opened, and so many vampires deprived of their horrible
animation--the village was not relieved. But a Moravian nobleman, who
happened to be traveling this way, heard how matters were, and being
skilled--as many people are in his country--in such affairs, he offered
to deliver the village from its tormentor. He did so thus: There being a
bright moon that night, he ascended, shortly after sunset, the towers of
the chapel here, from whence he could distinctly see the churchyard
beneath him; you can see it from that window. From this point he watched
until he saw the vampire come out of his grave, and place near it the
linen clothes in which he had been folded, and then glide away towards
the village to plague its inhabitants.
"The stranger, having seen all this, came down from the steeple, took
the linen wrappings of the vampire, and carried them up to the top of
the tower, which he again mounted. When the vampire returned from his
prowlings and missed his clothes, he cried furiously to the Moravian,
whom he saw at the summit of the tower, and who, in reply, beckoned him
to ascend and take them. Whereupon the vampire, accepting his
invitation, began to climb the steeple, and so soon as he had reached
the battlements, the Moravian, with a stroke of his sword, clove his
skull in twain, hurling him down to the churchyard, whither, descending
by the winding stairs, the stranger followed and cut his head off, and
next day delivered it and the body to the villagers, who duly impaled
and burnt them.
"This Moravian nobleman had authority from the then head of the family
to remove the tomb of Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, which he did
effectually, so that in a little while its site was quite forgotten."
"Can you point out where it stood?" asked the General, eagerly.
The forester shook his head, and smiled.
"Not a soul living could tell you that now," he said; "besides, they say
her body was removed; but no one is sure of that either."
Having thus spoken, as time pressed, he dropped his axe and departed,
leaving us to hear the remainder of the General's strange story.
_The Meeting_
"My beloved child," he resumed, "was now growing rapidly worse. The
physician who attended her had failed to produce the slightest
impression on her disease, for such I then supposed it to be. He saw my
alarm, and suggested a consultation. I called in an abler physician,
"Several days elapsed before he arrived. He was a good and pious, as well
as a learned man. Having seen my poor ward together, they withdrew to my
library to confer and discuss. I, from the adjoining room, where I
awaited their summons, heard these two gentlemen's voices raised in
something sharper than a strictly philosophical discussion. I knocked at
the door and entered. I found the old physician from Gratz maintaining
his theory. His rival was combating it with undisguised ridicule,
accompanied with bursts of laughter. This unseemly manifestation
subsided and the altercation ended on my entrance.
"'Sir,' said my first physician, 'my learned brother seems to think that
you want a conjuror, and not a doctor.'
"'Pardon me,' said the old physician from Gratz, looking displeased, 'I
shall state my own view of the case in my own way another time. I
grieve, Monsieur le General, that by my skill and science I can be of no
use. Before I go I shall do myself the honor to suggest something to
"He seemed thoughtful, and sat down at a table and began to write.
"Profoundly disappointed, I made my bow, and as I turned to go, the other
doctor pointed over his shoulder to his companion who was writing, and
then, with a shrug, significantly touched his forehead.
"This consultation, then, left me precisely where I was. I walked out
into the grounds, all but distracted. The doctor from Gratz, in ten or
fifteen minutes, overtook me. He apologized for having followed me, but
said that he could not conscientiously take his leave without a few
words more. He told me that he could not be mistaken; no natural disease
exhibited the same symptoms; and that death was already very near. There
remained, however, a day, or possibly two, of life. If the fatal seizure
were at once arrested, with great care and skill her strength might
possibly return. But all hung now upon the confines of the irrevocable.
One more assault might extinguish the last spark of vitality which is,
every moment, ready to die.
"'And what is the nature of the seizure you speak of?' I entreated.
"'I have stated all fully in this note, which I place in your hands upon
the distinct condition that you send for the nearest clergyman, and open
my letter in his presence, and on no account read it till he is with
you; you would despise it else, and it is a matter of life and death.
Should the priest fail you, then, indeed, you may read it.'
"He asked me, before taking his leave finally, whether I would wish to
see a man curiously learned upon the very subject, which, after I had
read his letter, would probably interest me above all others, and he
urged me earnestly to invite him to visit him there; and so took
"The ecclesiastic was absent, and I read the letter by myself. At
another time, or in another case, it might have excited my ridicule. But
into what quackeries will not people rush for a last chance, where all
accustomed means have failed, and the life of a beloved object is
"Nothing, you will say, could be more absurd than the learned man's
"It was monstrous enough to have consigned him to a madhouse. He said
that the patient was suffering from the visits of a vampire! The
punctures which she described as having occurred near the throat, were,
he insisted, the insertion of those two long, thin, and sharp teeth
which, it is well known, are peculiar to vampires; and there could be no
doubt, he added, as to the well-defined presence of the small livid mark
which all concurred in describing as that induced by the demon's lips,
and every symptom described by the sufferer was in exact conformity with
those recorded in every case of a similar visitation.
"Being myself wholly skeptical as to the existence of any such portent
as the vampire, the supernatural theory of the good doctor furnished, in
my opinion, but another instance of learning and intelligence oddly
associated with some one hallucination. I was so miserable, however,
that, rather than try nothing, I acted upon the instructions of
"I concealed myself in the dark dressing room, that opened upon the poor
patient's room, in which a candle was burning, and watched there till
she was fast asleep. I stood at the door, peeping through the small
crevice, my sword laid on the table beside me, as my directions
prescribed, until, a little after one, I saw a large black object, very
ill-defined, crawl, as it seemed to me, over the foot of the bed, and
swiftly spread itself up to the poor girl's throat, where it swelled, in
a moment, into a great, palpitating mass.
"For a few moments I had stood petrified. I now sprang forward, with my
sword in my hand. The black creature suddenly contracted towards the
foot of the bed, glided over it, and, standing on the floor about a yard
below the foot of the bed, with a glare of skulking ferocity and horror
fixed on me, I saw Millarca. Speculating I know not what, I struck at
her instantly with my sword; but I saw her standing near the door,
unscathed. Horrified, I pursued, and struck again. She was gone; and my
sword flew to shivers against the door.
"I can't describe to you all that passed on that horrible night. The
whole house was up and stirring. The specter Millarca was gone. But her
victim was sinking fast, and before the morning dawned, she died."
The old General was agitated. We did not speak to him. My father walked
to some little distance, and began reading the inscriptions on the
tombstones; and thus occupied, he strolled into the door of a side
chapel to prosecute his researches. The General leaned against the wall,
dried his eyes, and sighed heavily. I was relieved on hearing the voices
of Carmilla and Madame, who were at that moment approaching. The voices
In this solitude, having just listened to so strange a story, connected,
as it was, with the great and titled dead, whose monuments were
moldering among the dust and ivy round us, and every incident of which
bore so awfully upon my own mysterious case--in this haunted spot,
darkened by the towering foliage that rose on every side, dense and high
above its noiseless walls--a horror began to steal over me, and my heart
sank as I thought that my friends were, after all, not about to enter
and disturb this triste and ominous scene.
The old General's eyes were fixed on the ground, as he leaned with his
hand upon the basement of a shattered monument.
Under a narrow, arched doorway, surmounted by one of those demoniacal
grotesques in which the cynical and ghastly fancy of old Gothic carving
delights, I saw very gladly the beautiful face and figure of Carmilla
enter the shadowy chapel.
I was just about to rise and speak, and nodded smiling, in answer to her
peculiarly engaging smile; when with a cry, the old man by my side
caught up the woodman's hatchet, and started forward. On seeing him a
brutalized change came over her features. It was an instantaneous and
horrible transformation, as she made a crouching step backwards. Before
I could utter a scream, he struck at her with all his force, but she
dived under his blow, and unscathed, caught him in her tiny grasp by the
wrist. He struggled for a moment to release his arm, but his hand
opened, the axe fell to the ground, and the girl was gone.
He staggered against the wall. His grey hair stood upon his head, and a
moisture shone over his face, as if he were at the point of death.
The frightful scene had passed in a moment. The first thing I recollect
after, is Madame standing before me, and impatiently repeating again and
again, the question, "Where is Mademoiselle Carmilla?"
I answered at length, "I don't know--I can't tell--she went there," and
I pointed to the door through which Madame had just entered; "only a
minute or two since."
"But I have been standing there, in the passage, ever since Mademoiselle
Carmilla entered; and she did not return."
She then began to call "Carmilla," through every door and passage and
from the windows, but no answer came.
"She called herself Carmilla?" asked the General, still agitated.
"Carmilla, yes," I answered.
"Aye," he said; "that is Millarca. That is the same person who long ago
was called Mircalla, Countess Karnstein. Depart from this accursed
ground, my poor child, as quickly as you can. Drive to the clergyman's
house, and stay there till we come. Begone! May you never behold
Carmilla more; you will not find her here."
_Ordeal and Execution_
As he spoke one of the strangest looking men I ever beheld entered the
chapel at the door through which Carmilla had made her entrance and her
exit. He was tall, narrow-chested, stooping, with high shoulders, and
dressed in black. His face was brown and dried in with deep furrows; he
wore an oddly-shaped hat with a broad leaf. His hair, long and grizzled,
hung on his shoulders. He wore a pair of gold spectacles, and walked
slowly, with an odd shambling gait, with his face sometimes turned up to
the sky, and sometimes bowed down towards the ground, seemed to wear a
perpetual smile; his long thin arms were swinging, and his lank hands,
in old black gloves ever so much too wide for them, waving and
gesticulating in utter abstraction.
"The very man!" exclaimed the General, advancing with manifest delight.
"My dear Baron, how happy I am to see you, I had no hope of meeting you
so soon." He signed to my father, who had by this time returned, and
leading the fantastic old gentleman, whom he called the Baron to meet
him. He introduced him formally, and they at once entered into earnest
conversation. The stranger took a roll of paper from his pocket, and
spread it on the worn surface of a tomb that stood by. He had a pencil
case in his fingers, with which he traced imaginary lines from point to
point on the paper, which from their often glancing from it, together,
at certain points of the building, I concluded to be a plan of the
chapel. He accompanied, what I may term, his lecture, with occasional
readings from a dirty little book, whose yellow leaves were closely
written over.
They sauntered together down the side aisle, opposite to the spot where
I was standing, conversing as they went; then they began measuring
distances by paces, and finally they all stood together, facing a piece
of the sidewall, which they began to examine with great minuteness;
pulling off the ivy that clung over it, and rapping the plaster with the
ends of their sticks, scraping here, and knocking there. At length they
ascertained the existence of a broad marble tablet, with letters carved
in relief upon it.
With the assistance of the woodman, who soon returned, a monumental
inscription, and carved escutcheon, were disclosed. They proved to be
those of the long lost monument of Mircalla, Countess Karnstein.
The old General, though not I fear given to the praying mood, raised his
hands and eyes to heaven, in mute thanksgiving for some moments.
"Tomorrow," I heard him say; "the commissioner will be here, and the
Inquisition will be held according to law."
Then turning to the old man with the gold spectacles, whom I have
described, he shook him warmly by both hands and said:
"Baron, how can I thank you? How can we all thank you? You will have
delivered this region from a plague that has scourged its inhabitants
for more than a century. The horrible enemy, thank God, is at
last tracked."
My father led the stranger aside, and the General followed. I know that
he had led them out of hearing, that he might relate my case, and I saw
them glance often quickly at me, as the discussion proceeded.
My father came to me, kissed me again and again, and leading me from the
chapel, said:
"It is time to return, but before we go home, we must add to our party
the good priest, who lives but a little way from this; and persuade him
to accompany us to the schloss."
In this quest we were successful: and I was glad, being unspeakably
fatigued when we reached home. But my satisfaction was changed to
dismay, on discovering that there were no tidings of Carmilla. Of the
scene that had occurred in the ruined chapel, no explanation was offered
to me, and it was clear that it was a secret which my father for the
present determined to keep from me.
The sinister absence of Carmilla made the remembrance of the scene more
horrible to me. The arrangements for the night were singular. Two
servants, and Madame were to sit up in my room that night; and the
ecclesiastic with my father kept watch in the adjoining dressing room.
The priest had performed certain solemn rites that night, the purport of
which I did not understand any more than I comprehended the reason of
this extraordinary precaution taken for my safety during sleep.
I saw all clearly a few days later.
The disappearance of Carmilla was followed by the discontinuance of my
nightly sufferings.
You have heard, no doubt, of the appalling superstition that prevails in
Upper and Lower Styria, in Moravia, Silesia, in Turkish Serbia, in
Poland, even in Russia; the superstition, so we must call it, of
the Vampire.
If human testimony, taken with every care and solemnity, judicially,
before commissions innumerable, each consisting of many members, all
chosen for integrity and intelligence, and constituting reports more
voluminous perhaps than exist upon any one other class of cases, is
worth anything, it is difficult to deny, or even to doubt the existence
of such a phenomenon as the Vampire.
For my part I have heard no theory by which to explain what I myself
have witnessed and experienced, other than that supplied by the ancient
and well-attested belief of the country.
The next day the formal proceedings took place in the Chapel of
The grave of the Countess Mircalla was opened; and the General and my
father recognized each his perfidious and beautiful guest, in the face
now disclosed to view. The features, though a hundred and fifty years
had passed since her funeral, were tinted with the warmth of life. Her
eyes were open; no cadaverous smell exhaled from the coffin. The two
medical men, one officially present, the other on the part of the
promoter of the inquiry, attested the marvelous fact that there was a
faint but appreciable respiration, and a corresponding action of the
heart. The limbs were perfectly flexible, the flesh elastic; and the
leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches,
the body lay immersed.
Here then, were all the admitted signs and proofs of vampirism. The
body, therefore, in accordance with the ancient practice, was raised,
and a sharp stake driven through the heart of the vampire, who uttered a
piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might escape from
a living person in the last agony. Then the head was struck off, and a
torrent of blood flowed from the severed neck. The body and head was
next placed on a pile of wood, and reduced to ashes, which were thrown
upon the river and borne away, and that territory has never since been
plagued by the visits of a vampire.
My father has a copy of the report of the Imperial Commission, with the
signatures of all who were present at these proceedings, attached in
verification of the statement. It is from this official paper that I
have summarized my account of this last shocking scene.
_Conclusion_
I write all this you suppose with composure. But far from it; I cannot
think of it without agitation. Nothing but your earnest desire so
repeatedly expressed, could have induced me to sit down to a task that
has unstrung my nerves for months to come, and reinduced a shadow of the
unspeakable horror which years after my deliverance continued to make my
days and nights dreadful, and solitude insupportably terrific.
Let me add a word or two about that quaint Baron Vordenburg, to whose
curious lore we were indebted for the discovery of the Countess
Mircalla's grave.
He had taken up his abode in Gratz, where, living upon a mere pittance,
which was all that remained to him of the once princely estates of his
family, in Upper Styria, he devoted himself to the minute and laborious
investigation of the marvelously authenticated tradition of Vampirism.
He had at his fingers' ends all the great and little works upon
the subject.
"Magia Posthuma," "Phlegon de Mirabilibus," "Augustinus de cura pro
Mortuis," "Philosophicae et Christianae Cogitationes de Vampiris," by
John Christofer Herenberg; and a thousand others, among which I
remember only a few of those which he lent to my father. He had a
voluminous digest of all the judicial cases, from which he had extracted
a system of principles that appear to govern--some always, and others
occasionally only--the condition of the vampire. I may mention, in
passing, that the deadly pallor attributed to that sort of revenants, is
a mere melodramatic fiction. They present, in the grave, and when they
show themselves in human society, the appearance of healthy life. When
disclosed to light in their coffins, they exhibit all the symptoms that
are enumerated as those which proved the vampire-life of the long-dead
Countess Karnstein.
How they escape from their graves and return to them for certain hours
every day, without displacing the clay or leaving any trace of
disturbance in the state of the coffin or the cerements, has always been
admitted to be utterly inexplicable. The amphibious existence of the
vampire is sustained by daily renewed slumber in the grave. Its horrible
lust for living blood supplies the vigor of its waking existence. The
vampire is prone to be fascinated with an engrossing vehemence,
resembling the passion of love, by particular persons. In pursuit of
these it will exercise inexhaustible patience and stratagem, for access
to a particular object may be obstructed in a hundred ways. It will
never desist until it has satiated its passion, and drained the very
life of its coveted victim. But it will, in these cases, husband and
protract its murderous enjoyment with the refinement of an epicure, and
heighten it by the gradual approaches of an artful courtship. In these
cases it seems to yearn for something like sympathy and consent. In
ordinary ones it goes direct to its object, overpowers with violence,
and strangles and exhausts often at a single feast.
The vampire is, apparently, subject, in certain situations, to special
conditions. In the particular instance of which I have given you a
relation, Mircalla seemed to be limited to a name which, if not her real
one, should at least reproduce, without the omission or addition of a
single letter, those, as we say, anagrammatically, which compose it.
Carmilla did this; so did Millarca.
My father related to the Baron Vordenburg, who remained with us for two
or three weeks after the expulsion of Carmilla, the story about the
Moravian nobleman and the vampire at Karnstein churchyard, and then he
asked the Baron how he had discovered the exact position of the
long-concealed tomb of the Countess Mircalla? The Baron's grotesque
features puckered up into a mysterious smile; he looked down, still
smiling on his worn spectacle case and fumbled with it. Then looking
up, he said:
"I have many journals, and other papers, written by that remarkable man;
the most curious among them is one treating of the visit of which you
speak, to Karnstein. The tradition, of course, discolors and distorts a
little. He might have been termed a Moravian nobleman, for he had
changed his abode to that territory, and was, beside, a noble. But he
was, in truth, a native of Upper Styria. It is enough to say that in
very early youth he had been a passionate and favored lover of the
beautiful Mircalla, Countess Karnstein. Her early death plunged him into
inconsolable grief. It is the nature of vampires to increase and
multiply, but according to an ascertained and ghostly law.
"Assume, at starting, a territory perfectly free from that pest. How
does it begin, and how does it multiply itself? I will tell you. A
person, more or less wicked, puts an end to himself. A suicide, under
certain circumstances, becomes a vampire. That specter visits living
people in their slumbers; they die, and almost invariably, in the grave,
develop into vampires. This happened in the case of the beautiful
Mircalla, who was haunted by one of those demons. My ancestor,
Vordenburg, whose title I still bear, soon discovered this, and in the
course of the studies to which he devoted himself, learned a great
"Among other things, he concluded that suspicion of vampirism would
probably fall, sooner or later, upon the dead Countess, who in life had
been his idol. He conceived a horror, be she what she might, of her
remains being profaned by the outrage of a posthumous execution. He has
left a curious paper to prove that the vampire, on its expulsion from
its amphibious existence, is projected into a far more horrible life;
and he resolved to save his once beloved Mircalla from this.
"He adopted the stratagem of a journey here, a pretended removal of her
remains, and a real obliteration of her monument. When age had stolen
upon him, and from the vale of years, he looked back on the scenes he
was leaving, he considered, in a different spirit, what he had done, and
a horror took possession of him. He made the tracings and notes which
have guided me to the very spot, and drew up a confession of the
deception that he had practiced. If he had intended any further action
in this matter, death prevented him; and the hand of a remote descendant
has, too late for many, directed the pursuit to the lair of the beast."
We talked a little more, and among other things he said was this:
"One sign of the vampire is the power of the hand. The slender hand of
Mircalla closed like a vice of steel on the General's wrist when he
raised the hatchet to strike. But its power is not confined to its
grasp; it leaves a numbness in the limb it seizes, which is slowly, if
ever, recovered from."
The following Spring my father took me a tour through Italy. We remained
away for more than a year. It was long before the terror of recent
events subsided; and to this hour the image of Carmilla returns to
memory with ambiguous alternations--sometimes the playful, languid,
beautiful girl; sometimes the writhing fiend I saw in the ruined church;
and often from a reverie I have started, fancying I heard the light step
of Carmilla at the drawing room door.
       *       *       *       *       *
Other books by J. Sheridan LeFanu
The Cock and Anchor
Torlogh O'Brien
The House by the Churchyard
The Wyvern Mystery
Guy Deverell
Ghost Stories and Tales of Mystery
The Chronicles of Golden Friars
In a Glass Darkly
The Purcell Papers
The Watcher and Other Weird Stories
A Chronicle of Golden Friars and Other Stories
Madam Growl's Ghost and Other Tales of Mystery
Green Tea and Other Stories
Sheridan LeFanu: The Diabolic Genius
Best Ghost Stories of J.S. LeFanu
The Best Horror Stories
The Vampire Lovers and Other Stories
Ghost Stories and Mysteries
The Hours After Midnight
J.S. LeFanu: Ghost Stories and Mysteries
Ghost and Horror Stories
Green Tea and Other Ghost Stones
Carmilla and Other Classic Tales of Mystery
Elisa Williams, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders
STEWART EDWARD WHITE
SAMUEL HOPKINS ADAMS
_Illustrations by Will Crawford_
THE SEA RIDDLE
I.      DESERT SEAS
II.     THE "LAUGHING LASS"
III.    THE DEATH SHIP
IV.     THE SECOND PRIZE CREW
V.      THE DISAPPEARANCE
VI.     THE CASTAWAYS
VII.    THE FREE LANCE
THE BRASS BOUND CHEST
_Being the story told by Ralph Slade, Free Lance, to the officers of
the United States Cruiser "Wolverine"_
I.      THE BARBARY COAST
II.     THE GRAVEN IMAGE
III.    THE TWELVE REPEATING RIFLES
IV.     THE STEEL CLAW
V.      THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE
VI.     THE ISLAND
VII.    CAPTAIN SELOVER LOSES HIS NERVE
VIII.   WRECKING OF THE "GOLDEN HORN"
IX.     THE EMPTY BRANDY BOTTLE
X.      CHANGE OF MASTERS
XI.     THE CORROSIVE
XII.    "OLD SCRUBS" COMES ASHORE
XIII.   I MAKE MY ESCAPE
XIV.    AN ADVENTURE IN THE NIGHT
XV.     FIVE HUNDRED YARDS' RANGE
XVI.    THE MURDER
XVII.   THE OPEN SEA
XVIII.  THE CATASTROPHE
I.      IN THE WARDROOM
II.     THE JOLLY ROGER
III.    THE CACHE
IV.     THE TWIN SLABS
V.      THE PINWHEEL VOLCANO
VI.     MR. DARROW RECEIVES
VII.    THE SURVIVORS
VIII.   THE MAKER OF MARVELS
IX.     THE ACHIEVEMENT
X.      THE DOOM
ILLUSTRATIONS
"And you know a heap too much"
A schooner comporting herself in a manner uncommon on the Pacific
A man who was a bit of a mechanic was set to work to open the chest
Slowly the man defined himself as a shape takes form in a fog
"These sheep had become as wild as deer"
The firing now became miscellaneous. No one paid any attention to any one
With a strangled cry the sailor cast the shirt from him
"Sorry not to have met you at the door," he said courteously
THE SEA RIDDLE
The late afternoon sky flaunted its splendour of blue and gold like a
banner over the Pacific, across whose depths the trade wind droned in
measured cadence. On the ocean's wide expanse a hulk wallowed sluggishly,
the forgotten relict of a once brave and sightly ship, possibly the
Sphinx of some untold ocean tragedy, she lay black and forbidding in the
ordered procession of waves. Half a mile to the east of the derelict
hovered a ship's cutter, the turn of her crew's heads speaking
expectancy. As far again beyond, the United States cruiser
_Wolverine_ outlined her severe and trim silhouette against the
horizon. In all the spread of wave and sky no other thing was visible.
For this was one of the desert parts of the Pacific, three hundred miles
north of the steamship route from Yokohama to Honolulu, five hundred
miles from the nearest land, Gardner Island, and more than seven hundred
northwest of the Hawaiian group.
On the cruiser's quarter-deck the officers lined the starboard rail.
Their interest was focussed on the derelict.
"Looks like a heavy job," said Ives, one of the junior lieutenants.
"These floaters that lie with deck almost awash will stand more hammering
than a mud fort."
"Wish they'd let us put some six-inch shells into her," said Billy
Edwards, the ensign, a wistful expression on his big round cheerful face.
"I'd like to see what they would do."
"Nothing but waste a few hundred dollars of your Uncle Sam's money,"
observed Carter, the officer of the deck. "It takes placed charges inside
and out for that kind of work."
"Barnett's the man for her then," said Ives. "He's no economist when it
comes to getting results. There she goes!"
Without any particular haste, as it seemed to the watchers, the hulk was
shouldered out of the water, as by some hidden leviathan. Its outlines
melted into a black, outshowering mist, and from that mist leaped a
giant. Up, up, he towered, tossed whirling arms a hundred feet abranch,
shivered, and dissolved into a widespread cataract. The water below was
lashed into fury, in the midst of which a mighty death agony beat back
the troubled waves of the trade wind. Only then did the muffled double
boom of the explosion reach the ears of the spectators, presently to be
followed by a whispering, swift-skimming wavelet that swept irresistibly
across the bigger surges and lapped the ship's side, as for a message
that the work was done.
Here and there in the sea a glint of silver, a patch of purple, or dull
red, or a glistening apparition of black showed where the unintended
victims of the explosion, the gay-hued open-sea fish of the warm waters,
had succumbed to the force of the shock. Of the intended victim there was
no sign save a few fragments of wood bobbing in a swirl of water.
When Barnett, the ordnance officer in charge of the destruction, returned
to the ship, Carter complimented him.
"Good clean job, Barnett. She was a tough customer, too."
"What was she?" asked Ives.
"The _Caroline Lemp_, three-masted schooner. Anyone know about her?"
Ives turned to the ship's surgeon, Trendon, a grizzled and brief-spoken
veteran, who had at his finger's tips all the lore of all the waters
under the reign of the moon.
"What does the information bureau of the Seven Seas know about it?"
"Lost three years ago--spring of 1901--got into ice field off the tip of
the Aleutians. Some of the crew froze. Others got ashore. Part of
survivors accounted for. Others not. Say they've turned native. Don't
know myself."
"The Aleutians!" exclaimed Billy Edwards. "Great Cats! What a drift! How
many thousand miles would that be?"
"Not as far as many another derelict has wandered in her time, son," said
The talk washed back and forth across the hulks of classic sea mysteries,
new and old; of the _City of Boston_, which went down with all
hands, leaving for record only a melancholy scrawl on a bit of board to
meet the wondering eyes of a fisherman on the far Cornish coast; of the
_Great Queensland_, which set out with five hundred and sixty-nine
souls aboard, bound by a route unknown to a tragic end; of the
_Naronic_, with her silent and empty lifeboats alone left, drifting
about the open sea, to hint at the story of her fate; of the
_Huronian_, which, ten years later, on the same day and date, and
hailing from the same port as the _Naronic_, went out into the void,
leaving no trace; of Newfoundland captains who sailed, roaring with
drink, under the arches of cathedral bergs, only to be prisoned, buried,
and embalmed in the one icy embrace; of craft assailed by the terrible
one-stroke lightning clouds of the Indian Ocean, found days after, stone
blind, with their crews madly hauling at useless sheets, while the
officers clawed the compass and shrieked; of burnings and piracies; of
pest ships and slave ships, and ships mad for want of water; of whelming
earthquake waves, and mysterious suctions, drawing irresistibly against
wind and steam power upon unknown currents; of stout hulks deserted in
panic although sound and seaworthy; and of others so swiftly dragged down
that there was no time for any to save himself; and of a hundred other
strange, stirring and pitiful ventures such as make up the inevitable
peril and incorrigible romance of the ocean. In a pause Billy Edwards
said musingly:
"Well, there was the _Laughing Lass_."
"How did you happen to hit on her?" asked Barnett quickly.
"Why not, sir? It naturally came into my head. She was last seen
somewhere about this part of the world, wasn't she?" After a moment's
hesitation he added: "From something I heard ashore I judge we've a
commission to keep a watch out for her as well as to destroy derelicts."
"What about the _Laughing Lass_?" asked McGuire, the paymaster, a
New Englander, who had been in the service but a short time.
"Good Lord! don't you remember the _Laughing Lass_ mystery and the
disappearance of Doctor Schermerhorn?"
"Karl Augustus Schermerhorn, the man whose experiments to identify
telepathy with the Marconi wireless waves made such a furore in the
"Oh, that was only a by-product of his mind. He was an original
investigator in every line of physics and chemistry, besides most of the
natural sciences," said Barnett. "The government is particularly
interested in him because of his contributions to aerial photography."
"And he was lost with the _Laughing Lass_?"
"Nobody knows," said Edwards. "He left San Francisco two years ago on a
hundred-foot schooner, with an assistant, a big brass-bound chest, and a
ragamuffin crew. A newspaper man named Slade, who dropped out of the
world about the same time, is supposed to have gone along, too. Their
schooner was last sighted about 450 miles northeast of Oahu, in good
shape, and bound westward. That's all the record of her that there is."
"Was that Ralph Slade?" asked Barnett.
"Yes. He was a free-lance writer and artist."
"I knew him well," said Barnett. "He was in our mess in the Philippine
campaign, on the _North Dakota_. War correspondent then. It's
strange that I never identified him before with the Slade of the
_Laughing Lass_."
"What was the object of the voyage?" asked Ives.
"They were supposed to be after buried treasure," said Barnett.
"I've always thought it more likely that Doctor Schermerhorn was on a
scientific expedition," said Edwards. "I knew the old boy, and he wasn't
the sort to care a hoot in Sheol for treasure, buried or unburied."
"Every time a ship sets out from San Francisco without publishing to all
the world just what her business is, all the world thinks it's one of
those wild-goose hunts," observed Ives.
"Yes," agreed Barnett. "Flora and fauna of some unknown island would be
much more in the Schermerhorn line of traffic. Not unlikely that some of
the festive natives collected the unfortunate professor."
Various theories were advanced, withdrawn, refuted, defended, and the
discussion carried them through the swift twilight into the darkness
which had been hastened by a high-spreading canopy of storm-clouds.
Abruptly from the crow's-nest came startling news for those desolate
seas: "Light--ho! Two points on the port bow."
The lookout had given extra voice to it. It was plainly heard throughout
The group of officers stared in the direction indicated, but could see
nothing. Presently Ives and Edwards, who were the keenest-sighted, made
out a faint, suffused radiance. At the same time came a second hail from
the crow's-nest.
"On deck, sir."
"Hello," responded Carter, the officer of the deck.
"There's a light here I can't make anything out of, sir."
"What's it like?"
"Sort of a queer general glow."
"General glow, indeed!" muttered Forsythe, among the group aft. "That
fellow's got an imagination."
"Can't you describe it better than that?" called Carter.
"Don't make it out at all, sir. 'Tain't any regular and proper light.
Looks like a lamp in a fog."
Among themselves the officers discussed it interestedly, as it grew
"Not unlike the electric glow above a city, seen from a distance," said
Barnett, as it grew plainer.
"Yes: but the nearest electric-lighted city is some eight hundred miles
away," objected Ives.
"Mirage, maybe," suggested Edwards.
"Pretty hard-working mirage, to cover that distance" said Ives. "Though
I've seen 'em----"
"Great heavens! Look at that!" shouted Edwards.
A great shaft of pale brilliance shot up toward the zenith. Under it
whirled a maelstrom of varied radiance, pale with distance, but
marvellously beautiful. Forsythe passed them with a troubled face, on his
way below to report, as his relief went up.
"The quartermaster reports the compass behaving queerly," he said.
Three minutes later the captain was on the bridge. The great ship had
swung, and they were speeding direct for the phenomenon. But within a few
minutes the light had died out.
"Another sea mystery to add to our list," said Billy Edwards. "Did anyone
ever see a show like that before? What do you think, Doc?"
"Humph!" grunted the veteran. "New to me. Volcanic, maybe."
THE _LAUGHING LASS_
The falling of dusk on June the 3d found tired eyes aboard the
_Wolverine_. Every officer in her complement had kept a private and
personal lookout all day for some explanation of the previous night's
phenomenon. All that rewarded them were a sky filmed with lofty clouds,
and the holiday parade of the epauletted waves.
Nor did evening bring a repetition of that strange glow. Midnight found
the late stayers still deep in the discussion.
"One thing is certain," said Ives. "It wasn't volcanic."
"Why so?" asked the paymaster.
"Because volcanoes are mostly stationary, and we headed due for that
"Yes; but did we keep headed?" said Barnett, who was navigating officer
as well as ordnance officer, in a queer voice.
"What do you mean, sir?" asked Edwards eagerly.
"After the light disappeared the compass kept on varying. The stars were
hidden. There is no telling just where we were headed for some time."
"Then we might be fifty miles from the spot we aimed at."
"Hardly that," said the navigator. "We could guide her to some extent by
the direction of wind and waves. If it was volcanic we ought certainly to
have sighted it by now."
"Always some electricity in volcanic eruptions," said Trendon. "Makes
compass cut didoes. Seen it before."
"Where?" queried Carter.
"Off Martinique. Pelee eruption. Needle chased its tail like a kitten."
"Are there many volcanoes hereabouts?" somebody asked.
"We're in 162 west, 31 north, about," said Barnett. "No telling whether
there are or not. There weren't at last accounts, but that's no evidence
that there aren't some since. They come up in the night, these volcanic
"Just cast an eye on the charts," said Billy Edwards. "Full of E. D.'s
and P. D.'s all over the shop. Every one of 'em volcanic."
"E. D.'s and P. D.'s?" queried the paymaster.
"Existence doubtful, and position doubtful," explained the ensign. "Every
time the skipper of one of these wandering trade ships gets a speck in
his eye, he reports an island. If he really does bump into a rock he cuts
in an arithmetic book for his latitude and longitude and lets it go at
that. That's how the chart makers make a living, getting out new editions
every few months."
"But it's a fact that these seas are constantly changing," said Barnett.
"They're so little travelled that no one happens to be around to see an
island born. I don't suppose there's a part on the earth's surface more
liable to seismic disturbances than this region."
"Seismic!" cried Billy Edwards, "I should say it was seismic! Why, when a
native of one of these island groups sets his heart on a particular loaf
of bread up his bread-fruit tree, he doesn't bother to climb after it.
Just waits for some earthquake to happen along and shake it down to him."
"Good boy, Billy," said Dr. Trendon, approvingly. "Do another."
"It's a fact," said the ensign, heatedly. "Why, a couple of years back
there was a trader here stocked up with a lot of belly-mixture in
bottles. Thought he was going to make his pile because there'd been a
colic epidemic in the islands the season before. Bottles were labelled
'Do not shake.' That settled his business. Might as well have marked 'em
'Keep frozen' in this part of the world. Fellow went broke."
"In any case," said Barnett, "such a glow as that we sighted last night
I've never seen from any volcano."
"Nor I," said Trendon. "Don't prove it mightn't have been."
"I'll just bet the best dinner in San Francisco that it isn't," said
"You're on," said Carter.
"Let me in," suggested Ives.
"And I'll take one of it," said McGuire.
"Come one, come all," said Edwards cheerily. "I'll live high on the
collective bad judgment of this outfit."
"To-night isn't likely to settle it, anyhow," said Ives. "I move we turn
Expectant minds do not lend themselves to sound slumber. All night the
officers of the _Wolverine_ slept on the verge of waking, but it was
not until dawn that the cry of "Sail-ho!" sent them all hurrying to their
clothes. Ordinarily officers of the U.S. Navy do not scuttle on deck like
a crowd of curious schoolgirls, but all hands had been keyed to a high
pitch over the elusive light, and the bet with Edwards now served as an
excuse for the betrayal of unusual eagerness. Hence the quarter-deck was
soon alive with men who were wont to be deep in dreams at that hour.
They found Carter, whose watch on deck it was, reprimanding the lookout.
"No, sir," the man was insisting, "she didn't show no light, sir. I'd 'a'
sighted her an hour ago, sir, if she had."
"We shall see," said Carter grimly. "Who's your relief?"
"Let him take your place. Go aloft, Sennett."
As the lookout, crestfallen and surly, went below, Barnett said in
subdued tones:
"Upon my word, I shouldn't be surprised if the man were right. Certainly
there's something queer about that hooker. Look how she handles herself."
The vessel was some three miles to windward. She was a schooner of the
common two-masted Pacific type, but she was comporting herself in a
manner uncommon on the Pacific, or any other ocean. Even as Barnett
spoke, she heeled well over, and came rushing up into the wind, where she
stood with all sails shaking. Slowly she paid off again, bearing away
from them. Now she gathered full headway, yet edged little by little to
windward again.
"Mighty queer tactics," muttered Edwards. "I think she's steering
"Good thing she carries a weather helm," commented Ives, who was an
expert on sailing rigs. "Most of that type do. Otherwise she'd have jibed
her masts out, running loose that way."
Captain Parkinson appeared on deck and turned his glasses for a full
minute on the strange schooner.
"Aloft there," he hailed the crow's-nest. "Do you make out anyone
"No, sir," came the answer.
"Mr. Carter, have the chief quartermaster report on deck with the signal
"Aren't we going to run up to her?" asked McGuire, turning in surprise to
"And take the risk of getting a hole punched in our pretty paint, with
her running amuck that way? Not much!"
Up came the signal quartermaster to get his orders, and there ensued a
one-sided conversation in the pregnant language of the sea.
"What ship is that?"
"Are you in trouble?" asked the cruiser, and waited. The schooner showed
a bare and silent main-peak.
"Heave to." Now Uncle Sam was giving orders.
But the other paid no heed.
"We'll make that a little more emphatic," said Captain Parkinson. A
moment later there was the sharp crash of a gun and a shot went across
the bows of the sailing vessel. Hastened by a flaw of wind that veered
from the normal direction of the breeze the stranger made sharply to
windward, as if to obey.
"Ah, there she comes," ran the comment along the cruiser's quarter-deck.
But the schooner, after standing for a moment, all flapping, answered
another flaw, and went wide about on the opposite tack.
"Derelict," remarked Captain Parkinson. "She seems to be in good shape,
too, Dr. Trendon!"
"Yes, sir." The surgeon went to the captain, and the others could hear
his deep, abrupt utterance in reply to some question too low for their
"Might be, sir. Beri-beri, maybe. More likely smallpox if anything of
that kind. But _some_ of 'em would be on deck."
"Whew! A plague ship!" said Billy Edwards. "Just my luck to be ordered to
board her." He shivered slightly.
"Scared, Billy?" said Ives. Edwards had a record for daring which made
this joke obvious enough to be safe.
"I wouldn't want to have my peculiar style of beauty spoiled by smallpox
marks," said the ensign, with a smile on his homely, winning face. "And
I've a hunch that that ship is not a lucky find for this ship."
"Then I've a hunch that your hunch is a wrong one," said Ives. "How long
would you guess that craft to be?"
[Illustration: A schooner comporting herself in a manner uncommon on the
They were now within a mile of the schooner. Edwards scrutinised her
calculatingly.
"Eighty to ninety feet."
"Say 150 tons. And she's a two-masted schooner, isn't she?" continued
Ives, insinuatingly.
"She certainly is."
"Well, I've a hunch that that ship is a lucky find for any ship, but
particularly for this ship."
"Great Caesar!" cried the ensign excitedly. "Do you think it's
A buzz of electric interest went around the group. Every glass was
raised; every eye strained toward her stern to read the name as she
veered into the wind again. About she came. A sharp sigh of excited
disappointment exhaled from the spectators. The name had been painted
"No go," breathed Edwards. "But I'll bet another dinner----"
"Mr. Edwards," called the captain. "You will take the second cutter,
board that schooner, and make a full investigation."
"Take your time. Don't come alongside until she is in the wind. Leave
enough men aboard to handle her."
The cruiser steamed to within half a mile of the aimless traveller, and
the small boat put out. Not one of his fellows but envied the young
ensign as he left the ship, steered by Timmins, a veteran bo's'n's mate,
wise in all the ins and outs of sea ways. They saw him board, neatly
running the small boat under the schooner's counter; they saw the
foresheet eased off and the ship run up into the wind; then the foresail
dropped and the wheel lashed so that she would stand so. They awaited the
reappearance of Edwards and the bo's'n's mate when they had vanished
below decks, and with an intensity of eagerness they followed the return
of the small boat.
Billy Edwards's face as he came on deck was a study. It was alight with
excitement; yet between the eyes two deep wrinkles of puzzlement
quivered. Such a face the mathematician bends above his paper when some
obstructive factor arises between him and his solution.
"Well, sir?" There was a hint of effort at restraint in the captain's
"She's the _Laughing Lass_, sir. Everything ship-shape, but not a
soul aboard."
"Come below, Mr. Edwards," said the captain. And they went, leaving
behind them a boiling cauldron of theory and conjecture.
THE DEATH SHIP
Billy Edwards came on deck with a line of irritation right-angling the
furrows between his eyes.
"Go ahead," the quarter-deck bade him, seeing him aflush with
information.
"The captain won't believe me," blurted out Edwards.
"Is it as bad as that?" asked Barnett, smiling.
"It certainly is," replied the younger man seriously. "I don't know that
I blame him. I'd hardly believe it myself if I hadn't----"
"Oh, go on. Out with it. Give us the facts. Never mind your credibility."
"The facts are that there lies the _Laughing Lass_, a little
weather-worn, but sound as a dollar, and not a living being aboard of
her. Her boats are all there. Everything's in good condition, though none
too orderly. Pitcher half full of fresh water in the rack. Sails all O.
K. Ashes of the galley fire still warm. I tell you, gentlemen, that ship
hasn't been deserted more than a couple of days at the outside."
"Are you sure all the boats are there?" asked Ives.
"Dory, dingy, and two surf boats. Isn't that enough?"
"Been over her, inside and out. No sign of collision. No leak. No
anything, except that the starboard side is blistered a bit. No evidence
of fire anywhere else. I tell you," said Billy Edwards pathetically,
"it's given me a headache."
"Perhaps it's one of those cases of panic that Forsythe spoke of the
other night," said Ives. "The crew got frightened at something and ran
away, with the devil after them."
"But crews don't just step out and run around the corner and hide, when
they're scared," objected Barnett.
"That's true, too," assented Ives. "Well, perhaps that volcanic eruption
jarred them so that they jumped for it."
"Pretty wild theory, that," said Edwards.
"No wilder than the facts, as you give them," was the retort.
"That's so," admitted the ensign gloomily.
"But how about pestilence?" suggested Barnett.
"Maybe they died fast and the last survivor, after the bodies of the rest
were overboard, got delirious and jumped after them."
"Not if the galley fire was hot," said Dr. Trendon, briefly. "No;
pestilence doesn't work that way."
"Did you look at the wheel, Billy?" asked Ives.
"Did I! There's another thing. Wheel's all right, but compass is no good
at all. It's regularly bewitched."
"What about the log, then?"
"Couldn't find it anywhere. Hunted high, low, jack, and the game;
everywhere except in the big, brass-bound chest I found in the captain's
cabin. Couldn't break into that."
"Dr. Schermerhorn's chest!" exclaimed Barnett. "Then he was aboard."
"Well, he isn't aboard now," said the ensign grimly. "Not in the flesh.
And that's all," he added suddenly.
"No; it isn't all," said Barnett gently. "There's something else.
Captain's orders?"
"Oh, no. Captain Parkinson doesn't take enough stock in my report to tell
me to withhold anything," said Edwards, with a trace of bitterness in his
voice. "It's nothing that I believe myself, anyhow."
"Give _us_ a chance to believe it," said Ives.
"Well," said the ensign hesitantly, "there's a sort of atmosphere about
that schooner that's almost uncanny."
"Oh, you had the shudders before you were ordered to board," bantered
"I know it. I'd have thought it was one of those fool presentiments if I
were the only one to feel it. But the men were affected, too. They kept
together like frightened sheep. And I heard one say to another: 'Hey,
Boney, d'you feel like someone was a-buzzin' your nerves like a
fiddle-string?' Now," demanded Edwards plaintively, "what right has a
jackie to have nerves?"
"That's strange enough about the compass," said Barnett slowly. "Ours is
all right again. The schooner must have been so near the electric
disturbance that her instruments were permanently deranged."
"That would lend weight to the volcanic theory," said Carter.
"So the captain didn't take kindly to your go-look-see?" questioned Ives
"As good as told me I'd missed the point of the thing," said the ensign,
flushing. "Perhaps he can make more of it himself. At any rate, he's
going to try. Here he is now."
"Dr. Trendon," said the captain, appearing. "You will please to go with
me to the schooner."
"Yes, sir," said the surgeon, rising from his chair with such alacrity as
to draw from Ives the sardonic comment:
"Why, I actually believe old Trendon is excited."
For two hours after the departure of the captain and Trendon there were
dull times on the quarter-deck of the _Wolverine_. Then the surgeon
came back to them.
"Billy was right," he said.
"But he didn't tell us anything," cried Ives. "He didn't clear up the
"That's what," said Trendon. "One thing Billy said," he added, waxing
unusually prolix for him, "was truer than maybe he knew."
"Thanks," murmured the ensign. "What was that?"
"You said 'Not a living being aboard.' Exact words, hey?"
"Well, what of it?" exclaimed the ensign excitedly. "You don't mean you
found dead----?"
"Keep your temperature down, my boy. No. You were exactly right. Not a
living being aboard."
"Thanks for nothing," retorted the ensign.
"Neither human nor other," pursued Trendon.
"Food scattered around the galley. Crumbs on the mess table. Ever see a
wooden ship without cockroaches?"
"Never particularly investigated the matter."
"Don't believe such a thing exists," said Ives.
"Not a cockroach on the _Laughing Lass_. Ever know of an old hooker
that wasn't overrun with rats?"
"No; nor anyone else. Not above water."
"Found a dozen dead rats. No sound or sign of a live one on the
_Laughing Lass_. No rats, no mice. No bugs. Gentlemen, the
_Laughing Lass_ is a charnel ship."
"No wonder Billy's tender nerves went wrong." said Ives, with
irrepressible flippancy. "She's probably haunted by cockroach wraiths."
"He'll have a chance to see," said Trendon. "Captain's going to put him
"By way of apology, then," said Barnett. "That's pretty square."
"Captain Parkinson wishes to see you in his cabin, Mr. Edwards," said an
orderly, coming in.
"A pleasant voyage, Captain Billy," said Ives. "Sing out if the goblins
Fifteen minutes later Ensign Edwards, with a quartermaster, Timmins, the
bo's'n's mate, and a crew, was heading a straight course toward his first
command, with instructions to "keep company and watch for signals"; and
intention to break into the brass-bound chest and ferret out what clue
lay there, if it took dynamite. As he boarded, Barnett and Trendon, with
both of whom the lad was a favourite, came to a sinister conclusion.
"It's poison, I suppose," said the first officer.
"And a mighty subtle sort," agreed Trendon. "Don't like the looks of it."
He shook a solemn head. "Don't like it for a damn."
THE SECOND PRIZE CREW
In semi-tropic Pacific weather the unexpected so seldom happens as to be
a negligible quantity. The _Wolverine_ met with it on June 5th. From
some unaccountable source in that realm of the heaven-scouring trades
came a heavy mist. Possibly volcanic action, deranging by its electric
and gaseous outpourings the normal course of the winds, had given birth
to it. Be that as it may, it swept down upon the cruiser, thickening as
it approached, until presently it had spread a curtain between the
warship and its charge. The wind died. Until after fall of night the
_Wolverine_ moved slowly, bellowing for the schooner, but got no
reply. Once they thought they heard a distant shout of response, but
there was no repetition.
"Probably doesn't carry any fog horn," said Carter bitterly, voicing a
general uneasiness.
"No log; compass crazy; without fog signal; I don't like that craft.
Barnett ought to have been ordered to blow the damned thing up, as a
peril to the high seas."
"We'll pick her up in the morning, surely," said Forsythe. "This can't
last for ever."
Nor did it last long. An hour before midnight a pounding shower fell,
lashing the sea into phosphorescent whiteness. It ceased, and with the
growl of a leaping animal a squall furiously beset the ship. Soon the
great steel body was plunging and heaving in the billows. It was a gloomy
company about the wardroom table. Upon each and all hung an oppression of
spirit. Captain Parkinson came from his cabin and went on deck.
Constitutionally he was a nervous and pessimistic man with a fixed belief
in the conspiracy of events, banded for the undoing of him and his. Blind
or dubious conditions racked his soul, but real danger found him not only
prepared, but even eager. Now his face was a picture of foreboding.
"Parky looks as if Davy Jones was pulling on his string," observed the
flippant Ives to his neighbour.
"Worrying about the schooner. Hope Billy Edwards saw or heard or felt
that squall coming," replied Forsythe, giving expression to the anxiety
that all felt.
"He's a good sailor man," said Ives, "and that's a staunch little
schooner, by the way she handled herself."
"Oh, it will be all right," said Carter confidently. "The wind's
moderating now."
"But there's no telling how far out of the course this may have blown
Barnett came down, dripping.
"Anything new?" asked Dr. Trendon.
The navigating officer shook his head.
"Nothing. But the captain's in a state of mind," he said.
"What's wrong with him?"
"The schooner. Seems possessed with the notion that there's something
wrong with her."
"Aren't you feeling a little that way yourself?" said Forsythe. "I am.
I'll take a look around before I turn in."
He left behind him a silent crowd. His return was prompt and swift.
"Come on deck," he said.
Every man leaped as to an order. There was that in Forsythe's voice which
stung. The weather had cleared somewhat, though scudding wrack still blew
across them to the westward. The ship rolled heavily. Of the sea naught
was visible except the arching waves, but in the sky they beheld again,
with a sickening sense of disaster, that pale and lovely glow which had
so bewildered them two nights before.
"The aurora!" cried McGuire, the paymaster.
"Oh, certainly," replied Ives, with sarcasm. "Dead in the west. Common
spot for the aurora. Particularly on the edge of the South Seas, where
they are thick!"
"Then what is it?"
Nobody had an answer. Carter hastened forward and returned to report.
"It's electrical anyway," said Carter. "The compass is queer again."
"Edwards ought to be close to the solution of it," ventured Ives. "This
gale should have blown him just about to the centre of interest."
"If only he isn't involved in it," said Carter anxiously.
"What could there be to involve him?" asked McGuire.
"I don't know," said Carter slowly. "Somehow I feel as if the desertion
of the schooner was in some formidable manner connected with that light."
For perhaps fifteen minutes the glow continued. It seemed to be nearer at
hand than on the former sighting; but it took no comprehensible form.
Then it died away and all was blackness again. But the officers of the
_Wolverine_ had long been in troubled slumber before the sensitive
compass regained its exact balance, and with the shifting wind to mislead
her, the cruiser had wandered, by morning, no man might know how far from
All day long of June 6th the _Wolverine_, baffled by patches of mist
and moving rain-squalls, patrolled the empty seas without sighting the
lost schooner. The evening brought an envelope of fog again, and
presently a light breeze came up from the north. An hour of it had failed
to disperse the mist, when there was borne down to the warship a flapping
sound as of great wings. The flapping grew louder--waned--ceased--and
from the lookout came a hail.
"Ship's lights three points on the starboard quarter."
"What do you make it out to be?" came the query from below.
"Green light's all I can see, sir." There was a pause.
"There's her port light, now. Looks to be turning and bearing down on us,
sir. Coming dead for us"--the man's voice rose--"close aboard; less'n two
ship's lengths away!"
As for a prearranged scene, the fog-curtain parted. There loomed silently
and swiftly the _Laughing Lass_. Down she bore upon the greater
vessel until it seemed as if she must ram; but all the time she was
veering to windward, and now she ran into the wind with a castanet rattle
of sails. So close aboard was she that the eager eyes of Uncle Sam's men
peered down upon her empty decks--for she was void of life.
Behind the cruiser's blanketing she paid off very slowly, but presently
caught the breeze full and again whitened the water at her prow.
Forgetting regulations, Ives hailed loudly:
"Ahoy, _Laughing Lass_! Ahoy, Billy Edwards!"
No sound, no animate motion came from aboard that apparition, as she fell
astern. A shudder of horror ran across the _Wolverine_'s
quarter-deck. A wraith ship, peopled with skeletons, would have been less
dreadful to their sight than the brisk and active desolation of the
heeling schooner.
"Been deserted since early last night," said Trendon hoarsely.
"How can you tell that?" asked Barnett.
"Both sails reefed down. Ready for that squall. Been no weather since to
call for reefs. Must have quit her during the squall."
"Then they jumped," cried Carter, "for I saw her boats. It isn't
believable."
"Neither was the other," said Trendon grimly.
A hurried succession of orders stopped further discussion for the time.
Ives was sent aboard the schooner to lower sail and report. He came back
with a staggering dearth of information. The boats were all there; the
ship was intact--as intact as when Billy Edwards had taken charge--but
the cheery, lovable ensign and his men had vanished without trace or
clue. As to the how or the wherefore they might rack their brains without
guessing. There was the beginning of a log in the ensign's handwriting,
which Ives had found with high excitement and read with bitter
disappointment.
"Had squall from northeast," it ran. "Double reefed her and she took it
nicely. Seems a seaworthy, quick ship. Further search for log. No result.
Have ordered one of crew who is a bit of a mechanic to work at the
brass-bound chest till he gets it open. He reports marks on the lock as
if somebody had been trying to pick it before him."
There was no further entry.
"Dr. Trendon is right," said Barnett. "Whatever happened--and God only
knows what it could have been--it happened just after the squall."
"Just about the time of the strange glow," cried Ives.
It was decided that two men and a petty officer should be sent aboard the
_Laughing Lass_ to make her fast with a cable, and remain on board
over night. But when the order was given the men hung back. One of them
protested brokenly that he was sick. Trendon, after examination, reported
to the captain.
"Case of blue funk, sir. Might as well be sick. Good for nothing. Others
aren't much better."
"Who was to be in charge?"
"Congdon," replied the doctor, naming one of the petty officers.
"He's my coxswain," said Captain Parkinson. "A first-class man. I can
hardly believe that he is afraid. We'll see."
[Illustration: A man who was a bit of a mechanic was set to work to open
Congdon was sent for.
"You're ordered aboard the schooner for the night, Congdon," said the
"Is there any reason why you do not wish to go?"
The man hesitated, looking miserable. Finally he blurted out, not without
a certain dignity:
"I obey orders, sir."
"Speak out, my man," urged the captain kindly.
"Well, sir: it's Mr. Edwards, then. You couldn't scare him off a ship,
sir, unless it was something--something----"
He stopped, failing of the word.
"You know what Mr. Edwards was, sir, for pluck," he concluded.
"_Was_!" cried the captain sharply. "What do you mean?
"The schooner got him, sir. You don't make no doubt of that, do you,
sir?" The man spoke in a hushed voice, with a shrinking glance back of
"Will you go aboard under Mr. Ives?"
"Anywhere my officer goes I'll go, and gladly, sir."
Ives was sent aboard in charge. For that night, in a light breeze, the
two ships lay close together, the schooner riding jauntily astern. But
not until morning illumined the world of waters did the
_Wolverine_'s people feel confident that the _Laughing Lass_
would not vanish away from their ken like a shape of the mist.
THE DISAPPEARANCE
When Barnett come on deck very early in the morning of June 7th, he found
Dr. Trendon already up and staring moodily out at the _Laughing
Lass_. As the night was calm the tow had made fair time toward their
port in the Hawaiian group. The surgeon was muttering something which
seemed to Barnett to be in a foreign tongue.
"Thought out any clue, doctor?" asked the first officer.
"_Petit Chel_--Pshaw! _Jolie Celimene!_ No," muttered Trendon.
"_Marie--Marie_--I've got it! The _Marie Celeste_."
"Got what? What about her?"
"Parallel case," said Trendon. "Sailed from New York back in the
seventies. Seven weeks out was found derelict. Everything in perfect
order. Captain's wife's hem on the machine. Boats all accounted for. No
sign of struggle. Log written to within forty-eight hours."
"What became of the crew?"
"Wish I could tell you. Might help to unravel our tangle." He shook his
head in sudden, unwonted passion.
"Evidently there's something criminal in her record," said Barnett,
frowning at the fusty schooner astern. "Otherwise the name wouldn't be
painted out."
"Painted out long ago. See how rusty it is. Schermerhorn's work maybe,"
replied Trendon. "Secret expedition, remember."
"In the name of wonders, why should he do it?"
"Secret expedition, wasn't it?"
"Um-ah; that's true," said the other thoughtfully. "It's quite possible."
"Captain wishes to see both of you gentlemen in the ward room, if you
please," came a message.
Below they found all the officers gathered. Captain Parkinson was pacing
up and down in ill-controlled agitation.
"Gentlemen," he said, "we are facing a problem which, so far as I know,
is without parallel. It is my intention to bring the schooner which we
have in tow to port at Honolulu. In the present unsettled weather we
cannot continue to tow her. I wish two officers to take charge. Under the
circumstances I shall issue no orders. The duty must be voluntary."
Instantly every man, from the veteran Trendon to the youthful paymaster,
volunteered.
"That is what I expected," said Captain Parkinson quietly. "But I have
still a word to say. I make no doubt in my own mind that the schooner has
twice been beset by the gravest of perils. Nothing less would have driven
Mr. Edwards from his post. All of us who know him will appreciate that.
Nor can I free myself from the darkest forebodings as to his fate and
that of his companions. But as to the nature of the peril I am unable to
make any conjecture worthy of consideration. Has anyone a theory to
There was a dead silence.
"Mr. Barnett? Dr. Trendon? Mr. Ives?"
"Is there not possibly some connection between the unexplained light
which we have twice seen, and the double desertion of the ship?"
suggested the first officer, after a pause.
"I have asked myself that over and over. Whatever the source of the light
and however near to it the schooner may have been, she is evidently
"Yes, sir," said Barnett. "That seems to vitiate that explanation."
"I thank you, gentlemen, for the promptitude of your offers," continued
the captain. "In this respect you make my duty the more difficult. I
shall accept Mr. Ives because of his familiarity with sailing craft and
with these seas." His eyes ranged the group.
"I beg your pardon, Captain Parkinson," eagerly put in the paymaster,
"but I've handled a schooner yacht for several years and I'd appreciate
the chance of----"
"Very well, Mr. McGuire, you shall be the second in command."
"Thank you, sir."
"You gentlemen will pick a volunteer crew and go aboard at once. Spare no
effort to find records of the schooner's cruise. Keep in company and
watch for signals. Report at once any discovery or unusual incident,
however slight."
Not so easily was a crew obtained. Having in mind the excusable
superstition of the men, Captain Parkinson was unwilling to compel any of
them to the duty. Awed by the mystery of their mates' disappearance, the
sailors hung back. Finally by temptation of extra prize money, a
complement was made up.
At ten o'clock of a puffy, mist-laden morning a new and strong crew of
nine men boarded the _Laughing Lass_. There were no farewells among
the officers. Forebodings weighed too heavy for such open expression.
All the fates of weather seemed to combine to part the schooner from her
convoy. As before, the fog fell, only to be succeeded by squally
rain-showers that cut out the vista into a checkerboard pattern of
visible sea and impenetrable greyness. Before evening the _Laughing
Lass_, making slow way through the mists, had become separated by a
league of waves from the cruiser. One glimpse of her between mist areas
the _Wolverines_ caught at sunset. Then wind and rain descended in
furious volume from the southeast. The cruiser immediately headed about,
following the probable course of her charge, which would be beaten far
down to leeward. It was a gloomy mess on the warship. In his cabin,
Captain Parkinson was frankly sea-sick: a condition which nothing but the
extreme of nervous depression ever induced in him.
For several hours the rain fell and the gale howled. Then the sky swiftly
cleared, and with the clearing there rose a great cry of amaze from stem
to stern of the _Wolverine_. For far toward the western horizon
appeared such a prodigy as the eye of no man aboard that ship had ever
beheld. From a belt of marvellous, glowing gold, rich and splendid
streamers of light spiralled up into the blackness of the heavens.
In all the colours of the spectrum they rose and fell; blazing orange,
silken, wonderful, translucent blues, and shimmering reds. Below, a broad
band of paler hue, like sheet lightning fixed to rigidity, wavered and
rippled. All the auroras of the northland blended in one could but have
paled away before the splendour of that terrific celestial apparition.
On board the cruiser all hands stood petrified, bound in a stricture of
speechless wonder. After the first cry, silence lay leaden over the ship.
It was broken by a scream of terror from forward. The quartermaster who
had been at the wheel came clambering down the ladder and ran along the
deck, his fingers splayed and stiffened before him in the intensity of
"The needle! The compass!" he shrieked.
Barnett ran to the wheel house with Trendon at his heels. The others
followed. The needle was swaying like a cobra's head. And as a cobra's
head spits venom, it spat forth a thin, steel-blue stream of lucent fire.
Then so swiftly it whirled that the sparks scattered from it in a tiny
shower. It stopped, quivered, and curved itself upward until it rattled
like a fairy drum upon the glass shield. Barnett looked at Trendon.
"Volcanic?" he said.
"'Mine eyes have seen the coming of the glory of the Lord,'" muttered the
surgeon in his deep bass, as he looked forth upon the streaming, radiant
heavens. "It's like nothing else."
In the west the splendour and the terror shot to the zenith. Barnett
whirled the wheel. The ship responded perfectly.
"I though she might be bewitched, too," he murmured.
"You may heal her for the light, Mr. Barnett," said Captain Parkinson
calmly. He had come from his cabin, all his nervous depression gone in
the face of an imminent and visible danger.
Slowly the great mass of steel swung to the unknown. For an hour the
unknown guided her. Then fell blackness, sudden, complete. After that
radiance the dazzled eye could make out no stars, but the look-out's
keen vision discerned something else.
"Ship afire," he shouted hoarsely.
"Where away?"
"Two points to leeward, near where the light was, sir."
They turned their eyes to the direction indicated, and beheld a majestic
rolling volume of purple light. Suddenly a fiercer red shot it through.
"That's no ship afire," said Trendon. "Volcano in eruption."
"And the other?" asked the captain.
"No volcano, sir."
"Poor Billy Edwards wins his bet," said Forsythe, in a low voice.
"God grant he's on earth to collect it," replied Barnett solemnly.
No one turned in that night. When the sun of June 8th rose, it showed an
ocean bare of prospect except that on the far horizon where the chart
showed no land there rose a smudge of dirty rolling smoke. Of the
schooner there was neither sign nor trace.
THE CASTAWAYS
"This ship," growled Carter, the second officer, to Dr. Trendon, as they
stood watching the growing smoke-column, "is a worse hot-bed of rumours
than a down-east village. That's the third sea-gull we've had officially
reported since breakfast."
As he said, three distinct times the _Wolverine_ had thrilled to an
imminent discovery, which, upon nearer investigation, had dwindled to
nothing more than a floating fowl. Upon the heels of Carter's complaint
came another hail.
"Boat ahoy. Three points on the starboard bow."
"If that's another gull," muttered Carter, "I'll have something to say to
you, my festive lookout."
The news ran electrically through the cruiser, and all eyes were strained
for a glimpse of the boat. The ship swung away to starboard.
"Let me know as soon as you can make her out," ordered Carter.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"There's certainly something there," said Forsythe, presently. "I can
make out a speck rising on the waves."
"Bit o' wreckage from Barnett's derelict," muttered Trendon, scowling
through his glasses.
"Rides too high for a spar or anything of that sort," said the junior
"She's a small boat," came in the clear tones of the lookout, "driftin'
"Anyone in her?" asked Carter.
"Can't make out yet, sir. No one's in charge though, sir."
Captain Parkinson appeared and Carter pointed out the speck to him.
"Yes. Give her full speed," said the captain, replying to a question from
the officer of the deck.
Forward leapt the swift cruiser, all too slow for the anxious hearts of
those aboard. For there was not one of the _Wolverines_ who did not
expect from this aimless traveller of desert seas at the least a leading
clue to the riddle that oppressed them.
"Aloft there!"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Can you make out her build?"
"Rides high, like a dory, sir."
"Wasn't there a dory on the _Laughing Lass_?" cried Forsythe.
"On her stern davits," answered Trendon.
"It is hardly probable that unattached small boats should be drifting
about these seas," said Captain Parkinson, thoughtfully. "If she's a
dory, she's the _Laughing Lass_'s boat."
"That's what she is," said Barnett. "You can see her build plain enough
"Mr. Barnett, will you go aloft and keep me posted?" said the captain.
The executive officer climbed to join the lookout. As he ascended, those
below saw the little craft rise high and slow on a broad swell.
"Same dory," said Trendon. "I'd swear to her in Constantinople."
"What else could she be?" muttered Forsythe.
"Somethin' that looks like a man in the bottom of her," sang out the
crow's-nest. "Two of 'em, I think."
For five minutes there was stillness aboard, broken only by an occasional
low-voiced conjecture. Then from aloft:
"Two men rolling in the bottom."
"Are they alive?"
"No, sir; not that I can see."
The wind, which had been extremely variable since dawn, now whipped
around a couple of points, swinging the boat's stern to them. Barnet,
putting aside his glass for a moment, called down:
"That's the one, sir. I can make out the name."
"Good," said the captain quietly. "We should have news, at least."
"Ives or McGuire," suggested Forsythe, in low tones.
"Or Billy Edwards," amended Carter.
"Not Edwards," said Trendon.
"How do you know?" demanded Forsythe.
"Dory was aboard when we found her the second time, after Edwards had
"Can you make out which of the men are in her?" hailed the captain.
"Don't think it's any of our people," came the astonishing reply from
"Are you sure?"
"I can see only one man's face, sir. It isn't Ives or McGuire. He's a
stranger to me."
"It must be one of the crew, then."
"No, sir, beg your parding," called the lookout. "Nothin' like that in
our crew, sir."
The boat came down upon them swiftly. Soon the quarter-deck was looking
into her. She was of a type common enough on the high seas, except that a
step for a mast showed that she had presumably been used for skimming
about open shores. Of her passengers, one lay forward, prone and quiet. A
length of sail cloth spread over him made it impossible to see his garb.
At his breast an ugly protuberance, outlined vaguely, hinted a deformity.
The other sprawled aft, and at a nearer sight of him some of the men
broke out into nervous titters. There was some excuse, for surely such a
scarecrow had never before been the sport of wind and wave. A thing of
shreds he was, elaborately ragged, a face overrun with a scrub of beard,
and preternaturally drawn, surmounted by a stiff-dried, dirty, cloth
semi-turban, with a wide, forbidding stain along the side, worked out the
likeness to a make-up.
"My God!" cackled Forsythe with an hysterical explosion; and again, "My
A long-drawn, irrepressible aspiration of expectancy rose from the
warship's decks as the stranger raised his haggard face, turned eyes
unseeingly upon them, and fell back. The forward occupant stirred not,
save as the boat rolled.
From between decks someone called out, sharply, an order. In the grim
silence it seemed strangely incongruous that the measured business of a
ship's life should be going forward as usual. Something within the
newcomer's consciousness stirred to that voice of authority.
Mechanically, like some huge, hideous toy, he raised first one arm, then
the other, and hitched himself halfway up on the stern seat. His mouth
opened. His face wrinkled. He seemed groping for the meaning of a joke at
which he knew he ought to laugh. Suddenly from his lips in surprising
volume, raucous, rasping, yet with a certain rollicking deviltry fit to
set the head a-tilt, burst a chanty:
  "Oh, their coffin was their ship, and their grave it was the sea:
    _Blow high, blow low, what care we!_
  And the quarter that we gave them was to sink them in the sea:
    _Down on the coast of the high Barbaree-ee._"
Long-drawn, like the mockery of a wail, the minor cadence wavered through
the stillness, and died away.
"The High Barbaree!" cried Trendon.
"You know it?" asked the captain, expectant of a clue.
"One of those cursed tunes you can't forget," said the surgeon. "Heard a
scoundrel of a beach-comber sing it years ago. Down in New Zealand, that
was. When the fever rose on him he'd pipe up. Used to beat time with a
steel hook he wore in place of a hand. The thing haunted me till I was
sorry I hadn't let the rascal die. This creature might have learned it
from him. Howls it out exactly like."
"I don't see that that helps us any," said Forsythe, looking down on the
preparations that were making to receive the unexpected guests.
With a deftness which had made the _Wolverine_ famous in the navy
for the niceties of seamanship, the great cruiser let down her tackle as
she drew skilfully alongside, and made fast, preparatory to lifting the
dory gently to her broad deck. But before the order came to hoist away,
one of the jackies who had gone down drew the covering back from the
still figure forward, and turned it over. With a half-stifled cry he
shrank back. And at that the tension of soul and mind on the
_Wolverine_ snapped, breaking into outcries and sudden, sharp
imprecations. The face revealed was that of Timmins, the bo's'n's mate,
who had sailed with the first vanished crew. A life preserver was
fastened under his arms. He was dead.
"I'm out," said the surgeon briefly, and stood with mouth agape. Never
had the disciplined _Wolverines_ performed a sea duty with so ragged
a routine as the getting in of the boat containing the live man and the
dead body. The dead seaman was reverently disposed and covered. As to the
survivor there was some hesitancy on the part of the captain, who was
inclined to send him forward until Dr. Trendon, after a swift scrutiny,
suggested that for the present, at least, he be berthed aft. They took
the stranger to Edwards's vacant room, where Trendon was closeted with
him for half an hour. When he emerged he was beset with questions.
"Can't give any account of himself yet," said the surgeon. "Weak and not
rightly conscious."
"What ails him?"
"Enough. Gash in his scalp. Fever. Thirst and exhaustion. Nervous shock,
too, I think."
"How came he aboard the _Laughing Lass_?" "Does he know anything of
Billy?" "Was he a stow-away?" "Did you ask him about Ives and McGuire?"
"How came he in the small boat?" "Where are the rest?"
"Now, now," said the veteran chidingly. "How can I tell? Would you have
me kill the man with questions?"
He left them to look at the body of the bo's'n's mate. Not a word had he
to say when he returned. Only the captain got anything out of him but
growling and unintelligible expressions, which seemed to be objurgatory
and to express bewildered cogitation.
"How long had poor Timmins been drowned?" the captain had asked him, and
Trendon replied:
"Captain Parkinson, the man wasn't drowned. No water in his lungs."
"Not drowned! Then how came he by his death?"
"If I were to diagnose it under any other conditions I should say that he
had inhaled flames."
Then the two men stared at each other in blank impotency. Meantime the
scarecrow was showing signs of returning consciousness and a message was
dispatched for the physician. On his way he met Barnett, who asked and
received permission to accompany him. The stranger was tossing restlessly
in his bunk, opening and shutting his parched mouth in silent, piteous
appeal for the water that must still be doled to him parsimoniously.
"I think I'll try him with a little brandy," said Trendon, and sent for
Barnett raised the patient while the surgeon held the glass to his lips.
The man's hand rose, wavered, and clasped the glass.
"All right, my friend. Take it yourself, if you like," said Trendon.
The fingers closed. Tremulously held, the little glass tilted and rattled
against the teeth. There was one deep, eager spasm of swallowing. Then
the fevered eyes opened upon the face of the _Wolverine_'s first
"Prosit, Barnett," said the man, in a voice like the rasp of rusty metal.
The navy man straightened up as from a blow under the jaw.
"Be careful what you are about," warned Trendon, addressing his superior
officer sharply, for Barnett had all but let his charge drop. His face
was a puckered mask of amaze and incredulity.
"Did you hear him speak my name--or am I dreaming?" he half whispered.
"Heard him plain enough. Who is he?"
The man's eyes closed, but he smiled a little--a singular, wry-mouthed,
winning smile. With that there sprung from behind the brush of beard,
filling out the deep lines of emaciation, a memory to the recognition of
Barnett; a keen and gay countenance that whisked him back across seven
years time to the days of Dewey and the Philippines.
"Ralph Slade, by the Lord!" he exclaimed.
"Of the _Laughing Lass_?" cried Trendon.
"Of the _Laughing Lass_."
Such a fury of eagerness burned in the face of Barnett that Trendon
cautioned him. "See here, Mr. Barnett, you're not going to fire a
broadside of disturbing questions at my patient yet a while. He's in no
But it was from the other that the questions came. Opening his eyes he
whispered, "The sailor? Where?"
"Dead," said Trendon bluntly. Then, breaking his own rule of repression,
"Did he come off the schooner with you?"
"Picked him up," was the straining answer. "Drifting."
The survivor looked around him, then into Barnett's face, and his mind
too, traversed the years.
"_North Dakota?_" he queried.
"No; I've changed my ship," said Barnett. "This is the _Wolverine_."
"Where's the _Laughing Lass_?"
Barnett shook his head.
"Tell me," begged Slade.
"Wait till you're stronger," admonished Trendon.
"Can't wait," said the weak voice. The eyes grew wild.
"Mr. Barnett, tell him the bare outline and make it short," said the
"We sighted the _Laughing Lass_ two days ago. She was in good shape,
but deserted. That is, we thought she was deserted."
The man nodded eagerly.
"I suppose you were aboard," said Barnett, and Trendon made a quick
gesture of impatience and rebuke.
"No," said Slade. "Left three--four--don't know how many nights ago."
The officers looked at each other. "Go on," said Trendon to his
"We put a crew aboard in command of an ensign," continued Barnett, "and
picked up the schooner the next night, deserted. You must know about it.
Where is Billy Edwards?"
"Never heard of him," whispered the other.
"Ives and McGuire, then. They were there after--Great God, man!" he
cried, his agitation breaking out, "Pull yourself together! Give us
something to go on."
"Mr. Barnett!" said the surgeon peremptorily.
But the suggestion was working in the sick man's brain. He turned to the
officers a face of horror.
"Your man, Edwards--the crew--they left her? In the night?"
"What does he mean?" cried Barnett.
"The light! You saw it?"
"Yes; we saw a strange light," answered Trendon soothingly. Slade half
rose. "Lost; all lost!" he cried, and fell back unconscious. Trendon
exploded into curses. "See what you've done to my patient," he fumed.
Barnett looked at him with contrite eyes.
"Better get out before he comes to," growled the surgeon. "Nice way to
treat a man half dead of exhaustion."
It was nearly an hour before Slade came back to the world again. The
doctor forbade him to attempt speech. But of one thing he would not be
denied. There was a struggle for utterance, then:
"The volcano?" he rasped out.
"Dead ahead," was the reply.
"Stand by!" grasped Slade. He strove to rise, to say something further,
but endurance had reached its limit. The man was utterly done.
Dr. Trendon went on deck, his head sunk between his shoulders. For a
minute he was in earnest talk with the captain. Presently the
_Wolverine_'s engines slowed down, and she lay head to the waves,
with just enough turn of the screw to hold her against the sea-way.
THE FREE LANCE
By the following afternoon Dr. Trendon reported his patient as quite
"Starved for water," proffered the surgeon. "Tissues fairly dried out.
Soaked him up. Fed him broth. Put him to sleep. He's all right. Just
wakes up to eat; then off again like a two-year old. Wonderful
constitution."
"The gentleman wants to know if he can come on deck, sir," saluted an
"Waked up, eh. Come on, Barnett. Help me boost him on deck."
The two officers disappeared to return in a moment arm-in-arm with Ralph
Nearly twenty-four hours' rest and skilful treatment had done wonders. He
was still a trifle weak and uncertain, was still a little glad to lean on
the arms of his companions, but his eye was bright and alert, and his
hollow cheeks mounted a slight colour. This, with the clothes lent him by
Barnett, transformed his appearance, and led Captain Parkinson to
congratulate himself that he had not obeyed his first impulse to send the
castaway forward with the men.
The officers pressed forward.
"Mighty glad to see you out." "Hope you've got your pins under you
again." "Old man, I'm mighty glad we came along."
The chorus of greeting was hearty enough, but the journalist barely paid
the courtesy of acknowledgment. His eye swept the horizon eagerly until
it rested on the cloud of volcanic smoke billowing up across the setting
sun. A sigh of relief escaped him.
"Where are we?" he asked Barnett. "I mean since you picked me up. How
long ago was that, anyway?"
"Yesterday," replied the navigating officer. "We've stood off and on,
looking for some of our men."
"Then that's the same volcano----"
Barnett laughed softly. "Well, they aren't quite holding a caucus of
volcanoes down in this country. One like that is enough."
But Slade brushed the remark aside.
"Head for it!" he cried excitedly. "We may be in time! There's a man on
that island."
"A man!" "Another!" "Not Billy Edwards?" "Not some of our boys?"
Slade stared at them bewildered.
"Hold on," interposed Dr. Trendon authoritatively. "What's his name?" he
inquired of the journalist.
"Darrow," replied the latter. "Percy Darrow. Do you know him?"
"Who in Kamschatka is Percy Darrow?" demanded Forsythe.
"Why, he's the assistant." It's a long story----"
"Of course, it's a long story. There's a lot we want to know,"
interrupted Captain Parkinson. "Quartermaster, head for the volcano
yonder. Mr. Slade, we want to know where you came from; and why you left
the schooner, and who Percy Darrow is. And there's dinner, so we'll just
adjourn to the messroom and hear what you can tell us. But there's one
thing we're all anxious to know; how came you in the dory which we found
and left on the _Laughing Lass_ no later than two days ago?"
"I haven't set eyes on the _Laughing Lass_ for--well, I don't know
how long, but it's five days anyway, perhaps more," replied Slade.
They stared at him incredulously.
"Oh, I see!" he burst out suddenly; "there were twin dories on the
schooner. The other one's still there, I suppose. Did you find her on the
stern davits?"
"That's it, then. You see when I left----"
Captain Parkinson's raised hand checked him. "If you will be so good, Mr.
Slade, let us have it all at once, after mess."
At table the young officers, at a sharp hint from Dr. Trendon, conversed
on indifferent subjects until the journalist had partaken heartily of
what the physician allowed him. Slade ate with keen appreciation.
"I tell you, that's good," he sighed, when he had finished. "Real, live,
after-dinner coffee, too. Why, gentlemen, I haven't eaten a civilised
meal, with all the trimmings, for over two years. Doctor, do you think a
little of the real stuff would hurt me? It's a pretty dry yarning."
"One glass," growled the surgeon, "no more."
"Scotch high-ball, then," voted Slade, "the higher the better."
The steward brought a tall glass with ice, in which the newcomer mixed
his drink. Then for quite a minute he sat silent, staring at the table,
his fingers aimlessly rubbing into spots of wetness the water beads as
they gathered on the outside of his glass. Suddenly he looked up.
"I don't know how to begin," he confessed. "It's too confounded
improbable. I hardly believe it myself, now that I'm sitting here in
human clothes, surrounded by human beings. Old Scrubs, and the Nigger,
and Handy Solomon, and the Professor, and the chest, and the--well, they
were real enough when I was caught in the mess. But I warn you, you are
not going to believe me, and hanged if I blame you a bit."
"We've seen marvels ourselves in the last few days," encouraged Captain
"Fire ahead, man," advised Barnett impatiently. "Just begin at the
beginning and let it go at that."
Slade sipped at his glass reflectively.
"Well," said he at length, "the best way to begin is to show you how I
happened to be mixed up in it at all."
The officers unconsciously relaxed into attitudes of greater ease.
Overhead the lamps swayed gently to the swell. The dull throb of the
screw pulsated. Stewards clad in white moved noiselessly, filling the
glasses, deferentially striking lights for the smokers, clearing away the
last dishes of the repast.
"I'm a reporter by choice, and a detective by instinct," began Slade,
with startling abruptness. "Furthermore, I'm pretty well off. I'm what
they call a free lance, for I have no regular desk on any of the
journals. I generally turn my stuff in to the _Star_ because they
treat me well. In return it is pretty well understood between us that I'm
to use my judgment in regard to 'stories' and that they'll stand back of
me for expenses. You see, I've been with them quite a while."
He looked around the circle as though in appeal to the comprehension of
his audience. Some of the men nodded. Others sipped from their glasses or
drew at their cigars.
"I loaf around here and there in the world, having a good time
travelling, visiting, fooling around. Every once in a while something
interests me. The thing is a sort of instinct. I run it down. If it's a
good story, I send it in. That's all there is to it." He laughed
slightly. "You see, I'm a sort of magazine writer in method, but my stuff
is newspaper stuff. Also the game suits me. That's why I play it. That's
why I'm here. I have to tell you about myself this way so you will
understand how I came to be mixed up in this _Laughing Lass_
"I remember," commented Barnett, "that when you came aboard the _South
Dakota_, you had a little trouble making Captain Arnold see it." He
turned to the others with a laugh. "He had all kinds of papers of ancient
date, but nothing modern--letter from the _Star_ dated five years
back, recommendations to everybody on earth, except Captain Arnold,
certificate of bravery in Apache campaign, bank identifications, and all
the rest. 'Maybe you're the _Star's_ correspondent, and maybe you're
not,' said the Captain, 'I don't see anything here to prove it.' Slade
argued an hour; no go. Remember how you caught him?" he inquired of
The reporter grinned assent.
"After the old man had turned him down for good, Slade fished down in his
warbag and hauled out an old tattered document from an oilskin case.
'Hold on a minute,' said he, 'you old shellback. I've proved to you that
I can write; and I've proved to you that I have fought, and now here I'll
prove to you that I can sail. If writing, fighting, and sailing don't fit
me adequately to report any little disturbances your antiquated
washboiler may blunder into, I'll go to raising cabbages.' With that he
presented a master's certificate! Where did you get it, anyway? I never
"Passed as 'fresh-water' on the Great Lakes," replied Slade briefly.
"Well, the spunk and the certificate finished the captain. He was an old
square rigger himself in the Civil War."
"So much for myself," Slade continued. "As for the _Laughing
THE BRASS BOUND CHEST
_Being the story told by Ralph Slade, Free Lance, to the officers of
the United States cruiser Wolverine_.
THE BARBARY COAST
A coincidence got me aboard her. I'll tell you how it was. One evening
late I was just coming out of a dark alley on the Barbary Coast, San
Francisco. You know--the water front, where you can hear more tongues
than at Port Said, see stranger sights, and meet adventure with the
joyous certainty of mediaeval times. I'd been down there hunting up a man
reported, by a wharf-rat of my acquaintance, to have just returned from a
two years' whaling voyage. He'd been "shanghaied" aboard, and as a matter
of fact, was worth nearly a million dollars. Landed in the city without a
cent, could get nobody to believe him, nor trust him to the extent of a
telegram East. Wharf-rat laughed at his yarn; but I believe it was true.
Good copy anyway----
Just at the turn of the alley I nearly bumped into two men. On the
Barbary Coast you don't pass men in narrow places until you have
reconnoitered a little. I pulled up, thanking fortune that they had not
seen me. The first words were uttered in a voice I knew well.
You've all heard of Dr. Karl Augustus Schermerhorn. He did some big
things, and had in mind still bigger. I'd met him some time before in
connection with his telepathy and wireless waves theory. It was
picturesque stuff for my purpose, but wasn't in it with what the old
fellow had really done. He showed me--well, that doesn't matter. The
point is, that good, staid, self-centred, or rather science-centred, Dr.
Schermerhorn was standing at midnight in a dark alley on the Barbary
Coast in San Francisco talking to an individual whose facial outline at
least was not ornamental.
My curiosity, or professional instinct, whichever you please, was all
aroused. I flattened myself against the wall.
The first remark I lost. The reply came to me in a shrill falsetto. So
grotesque was the effect of this treble from a bulk so squat and broad
and hairy as the silhouette before me that I almost laughed aloud.
"I guess you've made no mistake on that. I'm her master, and her owner
"Well, I haf been told you might rent her," said the Doctor.
"Rent her!" mimicked the falsetto. "Well, that--hell, yes, I'll
_rent_ her!" he laughed again.
"Doch recht." The Doctor was plainly at the end of his practical
After waiting a moment for something more definite, the falsetto inquired
rather drily:
"How long? What to? What for? Who are you, anyway?"
"I am Dr. Schermerhorn," the latter answered.
"Seen pieces about you in the papers."
"How many men haf you in the crew?"
"Me and the mate and the cook and four hands."
"And you could go--soon?"
"Soon as you want--_if_ I go."
"I wish to leaf to-morrow."
"If I can get the crew together, I might make it. But say, let's not hang
out here in this run of darkness. Come over to the grog shop yonder where
we can sit down."
To my relief, for my curiosity was fully aroused--Dr. Schermerhorn's
movements are usually productive--this proposal was vetoed.
"No, no!" cried the Doctor, with some haste, "this iss well! Somebody
might oferhear."
The huge figure stirred into an attitude of close attention. After a
pause the falsetto asked deliberately:
"Where we goin'?"
"I brefer not to say."
"H'm! How long a cruise?"
"I want to rent your schooner and your crew as-long-as I-please-to
"H'm! How long's that likely to be?"
"Maybe a few months; maybe seferal years."
"H'm! Unknown port; unknown cruise. See here, anything crooked in this?"
"No, no! Not at all! It iss simply business of my own."
"Not that I care," commented the other easily, "only risks is worth
paying for."
"There shall not be risk."
"Pearls likely?" hazarded the other, without much heed to the assurance.
"Them Jap gunboats is getting pretty hard to dodge of late years.
However, I've dodged 'em before."
"Now as to pay--how mooch iss your boat worth?"
I could almost follow the man's thoughts as he pondered how much he dared
"Well, you see, for a proposition like that--don't know where we're
going, when we're going to get back,--and them gunboats--how would a
hundred and twenty-five a month strike you?"
"Double it up. I want you to do ass I say, and I will also give your crew
double wages. Bud I want goot men, who will stay, and who will keep the
mouth shut."
"Gosh all fish-hooks! They'd go to hell with you for that!"
"Now you can get all you want of Adams & Marsh. Tell them it iss for me,
Brovisions for three years, anyhow. Be ready to sail to-morrow."
"Tide turns at eight in the evening."
"I will send some effects in the morning."
The master hesitated.
"That's all right, Doctor, but how do I know it's all right? Maybe by
morning you'll change your mind."
"That cannot be. My plans are all----"
"It's the usual thing to pay something----"
"Ach, but yes. I haf forgot. Darrow told me. I will make you a check. Let
us go to the table of which you spoke."
They moved away, still talking. I did not dare follow them into the
light, for I feared that the Doctor would recognise me. I'd have given my
eye teeth, though, to have gathered the name of the schooner, or that of
her master. As it was, I hung around until the two had emerged from the
corner saloon. They paused outside, still talking earnestly. I ventured a
hasty interview with the bar-keeper.
"Did you notice the two men who were sitting at the middle table?" I
"Sure!" said he, shoving me my glass of beer.
"Know them?" I inquired.
"Never laid eyes on 'em before. Old chap looked like a sort of corn
doctor or corner spell-binder. Other was probably one of these longshore
abalone men."
"Thanks," I muttered, and dodged out again, leaving the beer untouched.
I cursed myself for a blunderer. When I got to the street the two men had
disappeared. I should have shadowed the captain to his vessel.
The affair interested me greatly. Apparently Dr. Schermerhorn was about
to go on a long voyage. I prided myself on being fairly up to date in
regard to the plans of those who interested the public; and the public at
that time was vastly interested in Dr. Schermerhorn. I, in common with
the rest of the world, had imagined him anchored safely in Philadelphia,
immersed in chemical research. Here he bobbed up at the other end of the
continent, making shady bargains with obscure shipping captains, and
paying a big premium for absolute secrecy. It looked good.
Accordingly I was out early the next morning. I had not much to go by;
schooners are as plenty as tadpoles in San Francisco harbour. However, I
was sure I could easily recognise that falsetto voice; and I knew where
the supplies were to be purchased. Adams & Marsh are a large firm, and
cautious. I knew better than to make direct inquiries, or to appear in
the salesroom. But by hanging around the door of the shipping room I soon
had track of the large orders to be sent that day. In this manner I had
no great difficulty in following a truck to Pier 10, nor to identify a
consignment to Captain Ezra Selover as probably that of which I was in
The mate was in charge of the stowage, so I could not be quite sure.
Here, however, was a schooner--of about a hundred and fifty tons burden.
I looked her over.
You're all acquainted with the _Laughing Lass_ and the perfection of
her lines. You have not known her under Captain Ezra Selover. She was the
cleanest ship I ever saw. Don't know how he accomplished it, with a crew
of four and the cook; but he did. The deck looked as though it had been
holystoned every morning by a crew of jackies; the stays were whipped and
tarred, the mast new-slushed, and every foot of running gear coiled down
shipshape and Bristol fashion. There was a good deal of brass about her;
it shone like gold, and I don't believe she owned an inch of paint that
wasn't either fresh or new-scrubbed.
I gazed for some time at this marvel. It's unusual enough anywhere, but
aboard a California hooker it is little short of miraculous. The crew had
all turned up, apparently, and a swarm of stevedores were hustling every
sort of provisions, supplies, stock, spars, lines and canvas down into
the hold. It was a rush job, and that mate was having his hands full. I
didn't wonder at his language nor at his looks, both of which were
somewhat mussed up. Then almost at my elbow I heard that shrill falsetto
squeal, and turned just in time to see the captain ascend the after
He was probably the most dishevelled and untidy man I ever laid my eyes
on. His hair and beard were not only long, but tangled and unkempt, and
grew so far toward each other as barely to expose a strip of dirty brown
skin. His shoulders were bowed and enormous. His arms hung like a
gorilla's, palms turned slightly outwards. On his head was jammed a linen
boating hat that had once been white; gaping away from his hairy chest
was a faded dingy checked cotton shirt that had once been brown and
white; his blue trousers were spotted and splashed with dusty stains; he
was chewing tobacco. A figure more in contrast to the exquisitely neat
vessel it would be hard to imagine.
The captain mounted the gangplank with a steadiness that disproved my
first suspicion of his having been on a drunk. He glanced aloft, cast a
speculative eye on the stevedores trooping across the waist of the ship,
and ascended to the quarter-deck where the mate stood leaning over the
rail and uttering directed curses from between sweat-beaded lips. There
the big man roamed aimlessly on what seemed to be a tour of casual
inspection. Once he stopped to breathe on the brass binnacle and to rub
it bright with the dirtiest red bandana handkerchief I ever want to see.
His actions amused me. The discrepancy between his personal habits and
his particularity in the matter of his surroundings was exceedingly
interesting. I have often noticed that such discrepancies seem to
indicate exceptional characters. As I watched him, his whole frame
stiffened. The long gorilla arms contracted, the hairy head sunk forward
in the tenseness of a serpent ready to strike. He uttered a shrill
falsetto shriek that brought to a standstill every stevedore on the job;
and sprang forward to seize his mate by, the shoulder.
Evidently the grasp hurt. I can believe it might, from those huge hands.
The man wrenched himself about with an oath of inquiry and pain. I could
hear one side of what followed. The captain's high-pitched tones carried
clearly; but the grumble and growl of the mate were indistinguishable at
that distance.
"How far is it to the side of the ship, you hound of hell?" shrieked the
Mumble--surprised--for an answer.
"Well, I'll tell you, you _swab_! It's just two fathom from where
you stand. Just two fathom! How long would it take you to walk there? How
long? Just about six seconds! There and back! You--" I won't bother with
all the epithets, although by now I know Captain Selover's vocabulary
fairly well. "And you couldn't take six seconds off to spit over the
side! Couldn't walk two fathom! Had to spit on my quarter-deck, did you!"
Rumble from the mate.
"No, by God, you won't call up any of the crew. You'll get a swab and do
it yourself. You'll get a _hand_ swab and get down on your knees,
damn you! I'll teach you to be lazy!"
The mate said something again.
"It don't matter if we ain't under way. That has nothing to do with it.
The quarter-deck is clean, if the waist ain't, and nobody but a damn
misbegotten son-of-a-sea-lawyer would spit on deck anyhow!" From this
Captain Selover went on into a good old-fashioned deep-sea "cussing out,"
to the great joy of the stevedores.
The mate stood it pretty well, but there comes a time when further talk
is useless even in regard to a most heinous offense. And, of course, as
you know, the mate could hardly consider himself very seriously at fault.
Why, the ship was not yet at sea, and in all the clutter of charging. He
began to answer back. In a moment it was a quarrel. Abruptly it was a
fight. The mate marked Selover beneath the left eye. The captain with
beautiful simplicity crushed his antagonist in his gorilla-like squeeze,
carried him to the side of the vessel, and dropped him limp and beaten to
the pier. And the mate was a good stout specimen of a sea-farer, too.
Then the captain rushed below, emerging after an instant with a chest
which he flung after his subordinate. It was followed a moment later by a
stream of small stuff,--mingled with language--projected through an open
port-hole. This in turn ceased. The captain reappeared with a pail and
brush, scrubbed feverishly at the offending spot, mopped it dry with that
same old red bandana handkerchief, glared about him,--and abruptly became
as serene and placid as a noon calm. He took up the direction of the
stevedores. It was all most astounding.
Nobody paid any attention to the mate. He looked toward the ship once or
twice, thought better of it, and began to pick up his effects, muttering
savagely. In a moment or so he threw his chest aboard an outgoing truck
and departed.
It was now nearly noon and I was just in the way of going for something
to eat, when I caught sight of another dray laden with boxes and crated
affairs which I recognised as scientific apparatus. It was followed in
quick succession by three others. Ignorant as I was of the requirements
of a scientist, my common sense told me this could be no exploring
outfit. I revised my first intention of going to the club, and bought a
sandwich or two at the corner coffee house. I don't know why, but even
then the affair seemed big with mystery, with the portent of tragedy.
Perhaps the smell of tar was in my nostrils and the sea called. It has
always possessed for me an extraordinary allurement----
A little after two o'clock a cab drove to the after gangplank and
stopped. From it alighted a young man of whom I shall later have occasion
to tell you more, followed by Dr. Schermerhorn. The young man carried
only a light leather "serviette," such as students use abroad; while the
doctor fairly staggered under the weight of a square, brass-bound chest
without handles. The singularity of this unequal division of labour
struck me at once.
It struck also one of the dock men, who ran forward, eager for a tip.
"Kin I carry th' box for you, boss?" he asked, at the same time reaching
The doctor's thin figure seemed fairly to shrink at the idea.
"No, no!" he cried. "It iss not for you to carry!"
He hastened up the gangplank, clutching the chest close. At the top
Captain Selover met him.
"Hello, doctor," he squeaked. "Here in good time. We're busy, you see.
Let me carry your chest for you."
"No, no!" Dr. Schermerhorn fairly glared.
"It's almighty heavy," insisted the captain. "Let me give you a hand."
"You must not _touch!_" emphatically ordered the scientist. "Where
iss the cabin?"
He disappeared down the companionway clasping his precious load. The
young man remained on deck to superintend the stowing of the scientific
goods and the personal baggage.
All this time I had been thinking busily. I remembered distinctly one
other instance when Dr. Schermerhorn had disappeared. He came back
inscrutably, but within a week his results on aerial photography were
public property. I told myself that in the present instance his lavish
use of money, the elaborate nature of his preparations, the evident
secrecy of the expedition as evidenced by the fact that he had negotiated
for the vessel only the day before setting sail, the importance of
personal supervision as proved by the fact that he--notoriously
impractical in practical matters, and notoriously disliking anything to
do with business--had conducted the affair himself instead of delegating
it,--why; gentlemen, don't you see that all this was more than enough to
wake me up, body and soul? Suddenly I came to a definite resolution.
Captain Selover had descended to the pier. I approached him.
"You need a mate," said I.
He looked me over.
"Perhaps," he admitted. "Where's your man?"
"Right here," said I.
His eyes widened a little. Otherwise he showed no sign of surprise. I
cursed my clothes.
Fortunately I had my master's certificate with me--I'd passed
fresh-water on the Great Lakes--I always carry that sort of document on
the chance that it may come handy. It chanced to have a couple of naval
endorsements, results of the late war.
"Look here," I said before I gave it to him. "You don't believe in me. My
clothes are too good. That's all right. They're all I have that are good.
I'm broke. I came down here wondering whether I'd better throw myself in
"You look like a dude," he squeaked. "Where did you ever ship?"
I handed him my certificate. The endorsements from Admiral Keays and
Captain Arnold impressed him. He stared at me again, and a gleam of
cunning crept into his eyes.
"Nothing crooked about this?" he breathed softly.
I had the key to this side of his character. You remember I had overheard
the night before his statement of his moral scruples. I said nothing, but
looked knowing.
"What was it?" he murmured. "Plain desertion, or something worse?"
I remained inscrutable.
"Well," he conceded, "I do need a mate; and a naval man--even if he is
wantin' to get out of sight----"
"He won't spit on your decks, anyway," I broke in boldly.
Captain Selover's hairy face bristled about the mouth. This I
subsequently discovered was symptom of a grin.
"You saw that, eh?" he trebled.
"Aren't you afraid he'll bring down the police and delay your sailing?" I
He grinned again, with a cunning twinkle in his eye.
"You needn't worry. There ain't goin' to be any police. He had his
advance money, and he won't risk it by tryin' to come back."
We came to an agreement. I professed surprise at the wages. The captain
guardedly explained that the expedition was secret.
"What's our port?" I asked, to test him.
"Our papers are made out for Honolulu," he replied.
We adjourned to sign articles.
"By the way," said I, "I wish you wouldn't make them out in my own name.
'Eagen' will do."
"All right," he laughed, "I _sabe_. Eagen it is."
"I'll be aboard at six," said I. "I've got to make some arrangements."
"Wish you could help with the lading," said he. "Still, I can get along.
Want any advance money?"
"No," I replied; then I remembered that I was supposed to be broke.
"Yes," I amended.
He gave me ten dollars.
"I guess you'll show up," he said. "Wouldn't do this to everybody. But a
naval man--even if he is dodgin' Uncle Sam----"
"I'll be here," I assured him.
At that time I wore a pointed beard. This I shaved. Also I was accustomed
to use eye-glasses. The trouble was merely a slight astigmatism which
bothered me only in reading or close inspection. I could get along
perfectly well without the glasses, so I discarded them. I had my hair
cut rather close. When I had put on sea boots, blue trousers and shirt, a
pea jacket and a cap I felt quite safe from the recognition of a man like
Dr. Schermerhorn. In fact, as you shall see, I hardly spoke to him during
all the voyage out.
Promptly at six, then, I returned with a sea chest, bound I knew not
whither, to be gone I knew not for how long, and pledged to act as second
officer on a little hundred-and-fifty-ton schooner.
THE GRAVEN IMAGE
I had every reason to be satisfied with my disguise,--if such it could
be called. Captain Selover at first failed to recognise me. Then he burst
into his shrill cackle.
"Didn't know you," he trebled. "But you look shipshape. Come, I'll show
you your quarters."
Immediately I discovered what I had suspected before; that on so small a
schooner the mate took rank with the men rather than the afterguard.
Cabin accommodations were of course very limited. My own lurked in the
waist of the ship--a tiny little airless hole.
"Here's where Johnson stayed," proffered Selover. "You can bunk here, or
you can go in the foc'sle with the men. They's more room there. We'll get
under way with the turn of the tide."
He left me. I examined the cabin. It was just a trifle larger than its
single berth, and the berth was just a trifle larger than myself. My
chest would have to be left outside. I strongly suspected that my lungs
would have to be left outside also; for the life of me I could not see
where the air was to come from. With a mental reservation in favour of
investigating the forecastle, I went on deck.
The _Laughing Lass_ was one of the prettiest little schooners I ever
saw. Were it not for the lines of her bilges and the internal arrangement
of her hold, it might be imagined she had been built originally as a
pleasure yacht. Even the rake of her masts, a little forward of the
plumb, bore out this impression, which a comparatively new suit of
canvas, well stopped down, brass stanchions forward, and two little guns
under tarpaulins, almost confirmed. One thing struck me as peculiar. Her
complement of boats was ample enough. She had two surf boats, a dingy,
and a dory slung to the davits. In addition another dory,--the one you
picked me up in--was lashed to the top of the deck house.
"They'd mighty near have a boat apiece," I thought, and went forward.
Just outside the forecastle hatch I paused. Someone below was singing in
a voice singularly rich in quality. The words and the quaintness of the
minor air struck me immensely and have clung to my memory like a burr
  "'Are you a man-o'-war or a privateer,' said he.
    _Blow high, blow low, what care we!_
  'Oh, I am a jolly pirate, and I'm sailing for my fee.'
    _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e."_
I stepped to the companion. The voice at once ceased. I descended.
A glimmer of late afternoon struggled through the deadlights. I found
myself in a really commodious space,--extending far back of where the
forward bulk-heads are usually placed,--accommodating rows and row of
bunks--eighteen of them, in fact. The unlighted lamp cast its shadow on
wood stained black by much use, but polished like ebony from the
continued friction of men's garments. I wish I could convey to you the
uncanny effect, this--of dropping from the decks of a miniature craft to
the internal arrangements of a square-rigged ship. It was as though,
entering a cottage door, you were to discover yourself on the floor of
Madison Square Garden. A fresh sweet breeze of evening sucked down the
hatch. I immediately decided on the forecastle. Already it was being
borne in on me that I was little more than a glorified bo's'n's mate. The
situation suited me, however. It enabled me to watch the course of events
more safely, less exposed to the danger of recognition.
I stood for a moment at the foot of the companion accustoming my eyes to
the gloom. After a moment, with a shock of surprise, I made out a shining
pair of bead-points gazing at me unblinkingly from the shadow under the
bitts. Slowly the man defined himself, as a shape takes form in a fog. He
was leaning forward in an attitude of attention, his elbows resting on
his knees, his forearms depending between them, his head thrust out. I
could detect no faintest movement of eyelash, no faintest sound of
breathing. The stillness was portentous. The creature was exactly like a
wax figure, one of the sort you meet in corridors of cheap museums and
for a moment mistake for living beings. Almost I thought to make out the
customary grey dust lying on the wax of his features.
I am going to tell you more of this man, because, as you shall see, he
was destined to have much to do with my life, the fate of Dr. Karl
Augustus Schermerhorn, and the doom of the _Laughing Lass_.
He wore on his head a red bandana handkerchief. I never saw him with
other covering. From beneath It straggled oily and tangled locks of
glossy black. His face was long, narrow, hook-nosed and sinister; his
eyes, as I have described them, a steady and beady black. I could at
first glance ascribe great activity, but only moderate strength to his
slender, wiry figure. In this I was mistaken. His sheer physical power
was second only to that of Captain Selover. One of his forearms ended in
a steel hook. At the moment I could not understand this; could not see
how a man so maimed could be useful aboard a ship. Later I wished we had
more as handy. He knew a jam hitch which he caught over and under his
hook quicker than most men can grasp a line with the naked hand. It would
render one way, but held fast the other. He told me it was a cinch-hook
hitch employed by mule packers in the mountains, and that he had used it
on swamp-hooks in the lumber woods of Michigan. I shouldn't wonder. He
was a Wandering Jew.--His name was Anderson, but I never heard him called
that. It was always "Handy Solomon" with men and masters.
We stared at each other, I fascinated by something, some spell of the
ship, which I have never been able to explain to myself--nor even
describe. It was a mystery, a portent, a premonition such as overtakes a
man sometimes in the dark passageways of life. I cannot tell you of it,
nor make you believe--let it pass----
Then by a slow process of successive perceptions I became aware that I
was watched by other eyes, other wax figures, other human beings with
unwavering gaze. They seemed to the sense of mystic apprehension that for
the moment held possession of me, to be everywhere--in the bunks, on the
floor, back in the shadows, watching, watching, watching from the
advantage of another world.
[Illustration: Slowly the man defined himself as a shape takes form in a
I don't know why I tell you this; why I lay so much stress on the first
weird impression I got of the forecastle. It means something to me
now--in view of all that happened subsequently. Almost can I look back
and see, in that moment of occultism, a warning, an enlightenment----But
the point is, it meant something to me then. I stood there fascinated,
unable to move, unable to speak.
Then the grotesque figure in the corner stirred.
"Well, mates," said the man, "believe or not believe, it's in the book,
and it stands to reason, too. We have gold mines here in Californy and
Nevada and all them States; and we hear of gold mines in Mexico and
Australia, too, but did you ever hear tell of gold mines in Europe? Tell
me that! And where did the gold come from then, before they discovered
America? Tell me that! Why they made it, just as the man that wrote
this-here says, and you can kiss the Book on that."
"How about that place, Ophir, I read about?" asked a voice from the
The man shot a keen glance thither from beneath his brows.
"Know last year's output from the mines of Ophir, Thrackles?" he inquired
in silky tones.
"Why, no," stammered the man addressed as Thrackles.
"Well I do," pursued the man with the steel hook, "and it's just the
whole of nothing, and you can kiss the Book on that too! There ain't any
gold output, because there ain't any mines, and there never have been.
They made their gold."
He tossed aside a book he had been holding in his left hand. I recognised
the fat little paper duodecimo with amusement, and some wonder. The only
other copy I had ever laid my eyes on is in the Astor Library. It is
somewhat of a rarity, called _The Secret of Alchemy, or the Grand
Doctrine of Transmutation Fully Explained_, and was written by a Dr.
Edward Duvall,--a most extraordinary volume to have fallen into the hands
I stepped forward, greeting and being greeted. Besides the man I have
mentioned they were four. The cook was a bullet-headed squat negro with a
broken nose. I believe he had a name,--Robinson, or something of that
sort. He was to all of us, simply the Nigger. Unlike most of his race, he
was gloomy and taciturn.
Of the other two, a little white-faced, thin-chested youth named Pulz,
and a villainous-looking Mexican called Perdosa, I shall have more to say
My arrival broke the talk on alchemy. It resumed its course in the
direction of our voyage. Each discovered that the others knew nothing;
and each blundered against the astounding fact of double wages.
"All I know is the pay's good; and that's enough," concluded Thrackles,
from a bunk.
"The pay's too good," growled Handy Solomon.
"This ain't no job to go look at the 'clipse of the moon, or the devil's
a preacher!"
"W'at you maik heem, den?" queried Perdosa.
"It's treasure, of course," said Handy Solomon shortly.
"He, he, he!" laughed the negro, without mirth.
"What's the matter with you, Doctor?" demanded Thrackles.
"Treasure!" repeated the Nigger. "You see dat box he done carry so
cairful? You see dat?"
A pause ensued. Somebody scratched a match and lit a pipe.
"No, I don't see that!" broke out Thrackles finally, with some
impatience. "I _sabe_ how a man goes after treasure with a box; but
why should he take treasure away in a box? What do you think, Bucko?" he
suddenly appealed to me.
I looked up from my investigation of the empty berths.
"I don't think much about it," I replied, "except that by the look of the
stores we're due for more than Honolulu; and from the look of the light
we'd better turn to on deck."
An embarrassed pause fell.
"Who are you, anyway?" bluntly demanded the man with the steel hook.
"My name is Eagen," I replied; "I've the berth of mate. Which of these
bunks are empty?"
They indicated what I desired with just a trace of sullenness. I
understood well enough their resentment at having a ship's officer
quartered on them,--the forec'stle they considered as their only liberty
when at sea, and my presence as a curtailment to the freedom of speech. I
subsequently did my best to overcome this feeling, but never quite
At my command the Nigger went to his galley, I ascended to the deck. Dusk
was falling, in the swift Californian fashion. Already the outlines of
the wharf houses were growing indistinct, and the lights of the city were
beginning to twinkle. Captain Selover came to my side and leaned over the
rail, peering critically at the black water against the piles.
"She's at the flood," he squeaked. "And here comes the Lucy Belle."
The tug took us in charge and puffed with us down the harbour and through
the Golden Gate. We had sweated the canvas on her, even to the flying jib
and a huge club topsail she sometimes carried at the main, for the
afternoon trades had lost their strength. About midnight we drew up on
the Farallones.
The schooner handled well. Our crew was divided into three watches--an
unusual arrangement, but comfortable. Two men could sail her handily in
most sorts of weather. Handy Solomon had the wheel. Otherwise the deck
was empty. The man's fantastic headgear, the fringe of his curling oily
locks, the hawk outline of his face momentarily silhouetted against the
phosphorescence astern as he glanced to windward, all lent him an
appearance of another day. I could almost imagine I caught the gleam of
silver-butted horse pistols and cutlasses at his waist.
I brooded in wonder at what I had seen and how little I had explained.
The number of boats, sufficient for a craft of three times the tonnage;
the capacity of the forec'stle with its eighteen bunks, enough for a
passenger ship,--what did it mean? And this wild, unkempt, villainous
crew with its master and his almost ridiculous contrast of neatness and
filth;--did Dr. Schermerhorn realise to what he had trusted himself and
his precious expedition, whatever it might be?
The lights of shore had sunk; the _Laughing Lass_ staggered and
leaped joyously with the glory of the open sea. She seemed alone on the
bosom of the ocean; and for the life of me I could not but feel that I
was embarked on some desperate adventure. The notion was utterly
illogical; that I knew well. In sober thought, I, a reporter, was
shadowing a respectable and venerable scientist, who in turn was probably
about to investigate at length some little-known deep-sea conditions or
phenomena of an unexplored island. But that did not suffice to my
imagination. The ship, its surroundings, its equipment, its crew--all
read fantastic. So much the better story, I thought, shrugging my
shoulders at last.
THE TWELVE REPEATING RIFLES
After my watch below the next morning I met Percy Darrow. In many ways he
is, or was, the most extraordinary of my many acquaintances. During that
first half hour's chat with him I changed my mind at least a dozen times.
One moment I thought him clever, the next an utter ass; now I found him
frank, open, a good companion, eager to please,--and then a droop of his
blond eyelashes, a lazy, impertinent drawl of his voice, a hint of
half-bored condescension in his manner, convinced me that he was shy and
affected. In a breath I appraised him as intellectual, a fool, a shallow
mind, a deep schemer, an idler, and an enthusiast. One result of his
spasmodic confidences was to throw a doubt upon their accuracy. This
might be what he desired; or with equal probability it might be the
chance reflection of a childish and aimless amiability.
He was tall and slender and pale, languid of movement, languid of eye,
languid of speech. His eyes drooped, half-closed beneath blond brows; a
long wiry hand lazily twisted a rather affected blond moustache, his
voice drawled his speech in a manner either insufferably condescending
and impertinent, or ineffably tired,--who could tell which?
I found him leaning against the taffrail, his languid graceful figure
supported by his elbows, his chin propped against his hand. As I
approached the binnacle, he raised his eyes and motioned me to him. The
insolence of it was so superb that for a moment I was angry enough to
ignore him. Then I reflected that I was here, not to stand on my personal
dignity, but to get information. I joined him.
"You are the mate?" he drawled.
"Since I am on the quarter-deck," I snapped back at him.
He eyed me thoughtfully, while he rolled with one hand a corn-husk
Mexican cigarette.
"Do you know where you are going?" he inquired at length.
"Depends on the moral character of my future actions," I rejoined tartly.
He allowed a smile to break and fade, then lighted his cigarette.
"The first mate seems to have a remarkable command of language," said he.
I did not reply.
"Well, to tell you the truth I don't know where we are going," he
continued. "Thought you might be able to inform me. Where did this ship
and its precious gang of cutthroats come from, anyway?"
"Meaning me?"
"Oh, meaning you too, for all I know," he shrugged wearily. Suddenly he
turned to me and laid his hand on my shoulder with one of those sudden
bursts of confidence I came later to recognise and look for, but in which
I could never quite believe--nor disbelieve.
"I am eaten with curiosity," he stated in the least curious voice in the
world. "I suppose you know who his Nibs is?"
"Dr. Schermerhorn, do you mean?"
"Yes. Well, I've been with him ten years. I am his right-hand man. All
his business I transact down to the last penny. I even order his meals.
His discoveries have taken shape in my hands. Suddenly he gets a freak.
He will go on a voyage. Where? I shall know in good time. For how long? I
shall know in good time. For what purpose? Same answer. What
accommodations shall I engage? I experience the worst shock of my
life;--he will engage them himself. What scientific apparatus? Shock
number two;--he will attend to that. Is there anything I can do? What do
you suppose he says?"
"How should I know?" I asked.
"You should know in the course of intelligent conversation with me," he
drawled. "Well, he, good old staid Schermie with the vertebrated thoughts
gets kittenish. He says to me, 'Joost imachin, Percy, you are
all-alone-on-a-desert-island placed; and that you will sit on those sands
and wish within yourself all you would buy to be comfortable. Go out and
buy me those things--in abundance.' Those were my directions."
"What does he pay you?" he asked.
"Enough," I replied.
"More than enough, by a good deal, I'll bet," he rejoined. "The old fool!
He ought to have left it to me. What is this craft? Have you ever sailed
on her before?"
"Have any of the crew?"
I replied that I believed all of them were Selover's men. He threw the
cigarette butt into the sea and turned back.
"Well, I wish you joy of your double wages," he mocked.
So he knew that, after all! How much more of his ignorance was pretended
I had no means of guessing. His eye gleamed sarcastically as he sauntered
toward the companion-way. Handy Solomon was at the wheel, steering easily
with one foot and an elbow. His steel hook lay fully exposed, glittering
in the sunlight. Darrow glanced at it curiously, and at the man's
"Well, my genial pirate," he drawled, "if you had a line to fit that
hook, you'd be equipped for fishing." The man's teeth bared like an
animal's, but Darrow went on easily as though unconscious of giving
offence. "If I were you, I'd have it arranged so the hook would turn
backward as well as forward. It would be handier for some
things,--fighting, for instance."
He passed on down the companion. Handy Solomon glared after him, then
down at his hook. He bent his arm this way and that, drawing the hook
toward him softly, as a cat does her claws. His eyes cleared and a look
of admiration crept into them.
"By God, he's right!" he muttered, and after a moment; "I've wore that
ten year and never thought of it. The little son of a gun!"
He remained staring for a moment at the hook. Then he looked up and
caught my eye. His own turned quizzical. He shifted his quid and began to
  "The bos'n laid aloft, aloft laid he,
    _Blow high, blow low! What care we?_
  'There's a ship upon the wind'ard, a wreck upon the lee,'
    _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e."_
We had entered the trades and were making good time. I was content to
stay on deck, even in my watch below. The wind was strong, the waves
dashing, the sky very blue. From under our forefoot the flying fish sped,
the monsters pursued them. A tingle of spray was in the air. It was all
very pleasant. The red handkerchief around Solomon's head made a pretty
spot of colour against the blue of the sky and the darker blue of the
sea. Silhouetted over the flaw-less white of the deck house was the
sullen, polished profile of the Nigger. Beneath me the ship swerved
and leaped, yielded and recovered. I breathed deep, and saw cutlasses in
harmless shadows. It was two years ago. I was young--then----
At the mess hour I stood in doubt. However, I was informed by the
captain's falsetto that I was to eat in the cabin. As the only other
officer, I ate alone, after the others had finished, helping myself from
the dishes left on the table. It was a handsome cabin, well kept, with
white woodwork spotlessly clean, leather cushions--much better than one
would expect. I afterwards found that the neatness of this cabin and of
the three staterooms was maintained by the Nigger--at peril of his neck.
A rack held a dozen rifles, five revolvers, and,--at last--my cutlasses.
I examined the lot with interest. They were modern weapons,--the new high
power 30-40 box-magazine rifle, shooting government ammunition,--and had
been used. The revolvers were of course the old 45 Colt's. This was an
extraordinary armament for a peaceable schooner of one hundred and fifty
tons burden.
The rest of the cabin's fittings were not remarkable. By the
configuration of the ship I guessed that two of the staterooms must be
rather large. I could make out voices within.
On deck I talked with Captain Selover.
"She's a snug craft," I approached him.
"You have armed her well."
He muttered something of pirates and the China seas.
"You have arms enough to give your crew about two magazine rifles
apiece--unless you filled all your berths forward!"
Captain Selover looked me direct in the eye.
"Talk straight, Mr. Eagen," said he.
"What is this ship, and where is she bound?" I asked, with equal
He considered.
"As for the ship," he replied at length, "I don't mind saying. You're my
first officer, and on you I depend if it comes to--well, the small arms
below. If the ship's a little under the shade, why, so are you. She's by
way of being called a manner of hard names by some people. I do not see
it myself. It is a matter of conscience. If you would ask some
interested, they would call her a smuggler, a thief, a wrecker, and all
the other evil titles in the catalogue. She has taken in Chinks by way of
Santa Cruz Island--if that is smuggling. The country is free, and a Chink
is a man. Besides, it paid ten dollars a head for the landing. She has
carried in a cargo or so of junk; it was lying on the beach where a fool
master had piled it, and I took what I found. I couldn't keep track of
the underwriters' intentions."
"But the room forward----?" I broke in.
"Well, you see, last season we were pearl fishing."
"But you needed only your diver and your crew," I objected.
"There was the matter of a Japanese gunboat or so," he explained.
"Poaching!" I cried.
"So some call it. The shells are there. The islands are not inhabited. I
do not see how men claim property beyond the tide water. I have heard it
"Hold on!" I cried. "There was a trouble last year in the Ishigaki Jima
Islands where a poacher beat off the _Oyama_. It was a desperate
Captain Selover's eye lit up.
"I've commanded a black brigantine, name of _The Petrel_," he
admitted simply. "She was a brigantine aloft, but _alow_ she had
much the same lines as the _Laughing Lass_." He whirled on his heel
to roll to one of the covered yacht's cannon. "Looks like a harmless
little toy to burn black powder, don't she?" he remarked. He stripped off
the tarpaulin and the false brass muzzle to display as pretty a little
Maxim as you would care to see. "Now you know all about it," he said.
"Look here, Captain Selover," I demanded, "don't you know that I could
blow your whole shooting-match higher than Gilderoy's kite. How do you
know I won't do it when I get back? How do you know I won't inform the
doctor at once what kind of an outfit he has tied to?"
He planted far apart his thick legs in their soiled blue trousers, pushed
back his greasy linen boating hat and stared at me with some amusement.
"How do you know I won't blow on Lieutenant or Ensign Ralph Slade,
U.S.N., when I get back?" he demanded. I blessed that illusion, anyway.
"Besides, I know my man. You won't do anything of the sort." He walked to
the rail and spat carefully over the side.
"As for the doctor," he went on, "he knows all about it. He told me all
about myself, and everything I had ever done from the time I'd licked
Buck Jones until last season's little diversion. Then he told me that was
why he wanted me to ship for this cruise." The captain eyed me
quizzically.
I threw out my hands in a comic gesture of surrender.
"Well, where are we bound, anyway?"
The dirty, unkempt, dishevelled figure stiffened.
"Mr. Eagen," its falsetto shrilled, "you are mate of this vessel. Your
duty is to see that my orders as to sailing are carried out. Beyond that
you do not go. As to navigation, and latitude and longitude and where the
hell we are, that is outside your line of duty. As to where we are bound,
you are getting double wages not to get too damn curious. Remember to
earn your wages, Mr. Eagen!"
He turned away to the binnacle. In spite of his personal filth, in spite
of the lawless, almost piratical, character of the man, in that moment I
could not but admire him. If Percy Darrow was ignorant of the purposes of
this expedition, how much more so Captain Selover. Yet he accepted his
trust blindly, and as far as I could then see, intended to fulfil it
faithfully. I liked him none the worse for snubbing me. It indicated a
streak in his moral nature akin to and quite as curious as his excessive
neatness regarding his immediate surroundings.
THE STEEL CLAW
During the next few days the crew discussed our destination. Discipline,
while maintained strictly, was not conventional. During the dog watches,
often, every man aboard would be below, for at that period Captain
Selover loved to take the wheel in person, a thick cigar between his
lips, the dingy checked shirt wide open to expose his hairy chest to the
breeze. In the twilight of the forecastle we had some great sea-lawyer's
talks--I say "We," though I took little part in them. Generally I lay
across my bunk smoking my pipe while Handy Solomon held forth, his speech
punctuated by surly speculations from the Nigger, with hesitating
deep-sea wisdom from the hairy Thrackles, or with voluminous bursts of
fractured English from Perdosa. Pulz had nothing to offer, but watched
from his pale green eyes. The light shifted and wavered from one to the
other as the ship swayed: garments swung; the empty berths yawned
cavernous. I could imagine the forecastle filled with the desperate men
who had beaten off the _Oyama_. The story is told that they had
swept the gunboat's decks with her own rapid-fires, turned in.
No one knew where we were going, nor why. The doctor puzzled them, and
the quantity of his belongings.
"It ain't pearls," said Handy Solomon. "You can kiss the Book on that,
for we ain't a diver among us. It ain't Chinks, for we are cruising
sou'-sou'-west. Likely it's trade,--trade down in the Islands."
We were all below. The captain himself had the wheel. Discipline, while
strict, was not conventional.
"Contrabandista," muttered the Mexican, "for dat he geev us double pay."
"We don't get her for nothing," agreed Thrackles. "Double pay and duff on
Wednesday generally means get your head broke."
"No trade," said the Nigger gloomily.
They turned to him with one accord.
"Why not?" demanded Pulz, breaking his silence.
"No trade," repeated the Nigger.
"Ain't you got a reason, Doctor?" asked Handy Solomon.
"No trade," insisted the Nigger.
An uneasy silence fell. I could not but observe that the others held the
Nigger's statements in a respect not due them as mere opinions.
Subsequently I understood a little more of the reputation he possessed.
He was believed to see things hidden, as their phrase went.
Nobody said anything for some time; nobody stirred, except that Handy
Solomon, his steel claw removed from its socket, whittled and tested,
screwed and turned, trying to fix the hook so that, in accordance with
the advice of Percy Darrow, it would turn either way.
"What is it, then, Doctor?" he asked softly at last.
"Gold," said the Nigger shortly. "Gold--treasure."
"That's what I said at first!" cried Handy Solomon triumphantly. It was
extraordinary, the unquestioning and entire faith with which they
accepted as gospel fact the negro's dictum.
There followed much talk of the nature of this treasure, whether it was
to be sought or conveyed, bought, stolen, or ravished in fair fight. No
further soothsaying could they elicit from the Nigger. They followed
their own ideas, which led them nowhere. Someone lit the forecastle lamp.
They settled themselves. Pulz read aloud.
This was the programme every day during the dog watch. Sometimes the
watch on deck was absent, leaving only Handy Solomon, the Nigger and
Pulz, but the order of the day was not on that account varied. They
talked, they lit the lamp, they read. Always the talk was of the
As to the reading, it was of the sort usual to seamen, cowboys,
lumbermen, and miners. Thrackles had a number of volumes of very cheap
love stories. Pulz had brought some extraordinary garish detective
stories. The others contributed sensational literature with paper covers
adorned lithographically. By the usual incongruity a fragment of _The
Marble Faun_ was included in the collection. The Nigger has his copy
of _Duvall on Alchemy_. I haven't the slightest idea where he could
have got it.
While Pulz read, Handy Solomon worked on the alteration of his claw. He
could never get it to hold, and I remember as an undertone to Pulz's
reading, the rumble of strange, exasperated oaths. Whatever the evening's
lecture, it always ended with the book on alchemy. These men had no
perspective by which to judge such things. They accepted its speculations
and theories at their face value. Extremely laughable were the
discussions that followed. I often wished the shade of old Duvall could
be permitted to see these, his last disciples, spelling out dimly his
teachings, mispronouncing his grave utterances, but believing utterly.
Dr. Schermerhorn appeared on deck seldom. When he did, often his fingers
held a pen which he had forgotten to lay aside. I imagined him
preoccupied by some calculation of his own, but the forecastle, more
picturesquely, saw him as guarding constantly the heavy casket he had
himself carried aboard. He breathed the air, walked briskly, turned with
the German military precision at the end of his score of strides, and
re-entered his cabin at the lapse of the half hour. After he had gone,
remained Percy Darrow leaning indolently against the taffrail, his
graceful figure swaying with the ship's motion, smoking always the
corn-husk Mexican cigarettes which he rolled with one hand. He seemed
from that farthest point aft to hold in review the appliances, the
fabric, the actions, yes, even the very thoughts, of the entire ship.
From them he selected that on which he should comment or with which he
should play, always with a sardonic, half-serious, quite wearied and
indifferent manner. His inner knowledge, viewed by the light of this
manner or mannerism, was sometimes uncanny, though perhaps the sources of
his information were commonplace enough, after all. Certainly he always
viewed with amusement his victim's wonder.
Thus one evening at the close of our day-watch on deck, he approached
Handy Solomon. It was at the end of ten days, on no one of which had the
seaman failed to tinker away at his steel claw. Darrow balanced in front
of him with a thin smile.
"Too bad it doesn't work, my amiable pirate," said he. "It would be so
handy for fighting--See here," he suddenly continued, pulling some object
from his pocket, "here's a pipe; present to me; I don't smoke 'em. Twist
her halfway, like that, she comes out. Twist her halfway, like this, she
goes in. That's your principle. Give her back to me when you get
He thrust the briar pipe into the man's hand, and turned away without
waiting for a reply. The seaman looked after him in open amazement. That
evening he worked on the socket of the steel hook, and in two days he had
the job finished. Then he returned the pipe to Darrow with some growling
"That's all right," said the young man, smiling full at him. "Now what
are you going to fight?"
THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE
Captain Selover received as his due the most absolute and implicit
obedience imaginable. When he condescended to give an order in his
own person, the men fairly jumped to execute it. The matter had evidently
been threshed out long ago. They did not love him, not they; but they
feared him with a mighty fear, and did not hesitate to say so,
vividly, and often, when in the privacy of the forecastle. The
prevailing spirit was that of the wild beast, cowed but snarling
still. Pulz and Thrackles in especial had a great deal to say of what
they were or were not going to do, but I noticed that their resolution
always began to run out of them when first foot was set to the
companion ladder.
One day we were loafing along, everything drawing well, and everybody
but the doctor on deck to enjoy the sun. I was in the crow's-nest for
my pleasure. Below me on the deck Captain Selover roamed here and
there, as was his custom, his eye cocked out like a housewife's for
disorder. He found it, again in the evidence of expectoration, and
as Perdosa happened to be handiest, fell on the unfortunate Mexican.
Perdosa protested that he had had nothing to do with it, but Captain
Selover, enraged as always when his precious deck was soiled, would
not listen. Finally the Mexican grew sulky and turned away as though
refusing to hear more. The captain thereupon felled him to the deck,
and began brutally to kick him in the face and head.
Perdosa writhed and begged, but without avail. The other members of
the crew gathered near. After a moment, they began to murmur. Finally
Thrackles ventured, most respectfully, to intervene.
"You'll kill him, sir," he interposed. "He's had enough."
"Had enough, has he?" screeched the captain. "Well, you take what's
He marked Thrackles heavily over the eye. There was a breathless
pause; and then Thrackles, Pulz, the Nigger, and Perdosa attacked at
They caught the master unawares, and bore him to the deck. I dropped
at once to the ratlines, and commenced my descent. Before I had
reached the deck, however, Selover was afoot again, the four hanging
to him like dogs. In a moment more he had shaken them off; and before
I could intervene, he had seized a belaying pin in either hand, and
was hazing them up and down the deck.
"Mutiny, would you?" he shrilled. "You poor swabs! Forgot who was your
captain, did ye? Well, it's Captain Ezra Selover, and you can lay to
that! It would need about eight fathom of _stuff_ like you to
tie me down."
He chased them forward, and he chased them aft, and every time the
pins fell, blood followed. Finally they dived like rabbits into the
forecastle hatch. Captain Selover leaned down after them.
"Now tie yourselves up," he advised, "and then come on deck and clean
up after yourselves!" He turned to me. "Mr. Eagen, turn out the crew
to clean decks."
I descended to the forecastle, followed immediately by Handy Solomon.
The latter had taken no part in the affair. We found the men in
horrible shape, what with the bruises and cuts, and bleeding freely.
"Now you're a nice-looking Sunday school!" observed Handy Soloman,
eyeing them sardonically. "Tackel Old Scrubs, will ye? Well, some
needs a bale of cotton to fall on 'em afore they learns anything.
Enjoyed your little diversions, mates? And w'at do you expect to gain?
I asks you that, now. You poor little infants! Ain't you never tackled
him afore? Don't remember a little brigatine, name of the
_Petrel!_ My eye, but you _are_ a pack of damn fools!"
To this he received no reply. The men sullenly assisted each other.
Then they went immediately on deck and to work.
After this taste of his quality, Captain Selover enjoyed a quiet ship.
We made good time, but for a long while nothing happened. Finally the
monotony was broken by an incident.
One evening before the night winds I sat in the shadow of the extra
dory on top of the deck house. The moon was but just beyond the full,
so I suppose I must have been practically invisible. Certainly the
Nigger did not know of my presence, for he came and stood within three
feet of me without giving any sign. The companion was open. In a
moment some door below was opened also, and a scrap of conversation
came up to us very clearly.
"You haf dem finished?" the doctor's voice inquired. "So, that iss
well,"--papers rustled for a few moments. "And the r-result--
ah--exactly--it iss that exactly. Percy, mein son, that maigs
the experiment exact. We haf the process----"
"I don't see, sir, quite," replied the voice of Percy Darrow, with
a tinge of excitement. "I can follow the logic of the experiment, of
course--so can I follow the logic of a trip to the moon. But when you
come to apply it--how do you get your re-agent? There's no known
Dr. Schermerhorn broke in: "Ach, it iss that I haf perfected. Pardon
me, my boy, it iss the first I haf worked from you apart. It iss for
a surprise. I haf made in small quantities the missing ingredient.
It will form a perfect interruption to the current. Now we go----"
"Do you mean to say," almost shouted Darrow, "that you have succeeded
in freeing it in the metal?"
"Yes," replied the doctor simply.
I could hear a chair overturned.
"Why, with that you can----"
"I can do everything," broke in the doctor. "The possibilities are
"And you can really produce it in quantity?"
"I think so; it iss for us to discover."
A pause ensued.
"Why!" came the voice of Percy Darrow, awestricken. "With fifty
centigrammes only you could--you could transmute any substance--why,
you could make anything you pleased almost! You could make enough
diamonds to fill that chest! It is the philosopher's stone!"
"Diamonds--yes--it is possible," interrupted the doctor impatiently,
"if it was worth while. But you should see the real importance----"
The ship careened to a chance swell; a door slammed; the voices were
cut off. I looked up. The Nigger's head was thrust forward fairly into
the glow from the companionway. The mask of his sullenness had fallen.
His eyes fairly rolled in excitement, his thick lips were drawn back
to expose his teeth, his powerful figure was gathered with the tensity
of a bow. When the door slammed, he turned silently to glide away.
At that instant the watch was changed, and in a moment I found myself
Ten seconds later the Nigger, detained by Captain Selover for some
trifling duty, burst into the forecastle. He was possessed by the
wildest excitement. This in itself was enough to gain the attention
of the men, but his first words were startling.
"I found de treasure!" he almost shouted. "I know where he kept!"
They leaped at him--Handy Solomon and Pulz--and fairly shook out of
him what he thought he knew. He babbled in the forgotten terms of
alchemy, dressing modern facts in the garments of mediaeval thought
until they were scarcely to be recognised.
"And so he say dat he fine him, de Philosopher Stone, and he keep him
in dat heavy box we see him carry aboard, and he don' have to make
gol' with it--he can make diamon's--_diamon's_--he say it too
easy to fill dat box plum full of diamon's."
They gesticulated and exclaimed and breathed hard, full of the marvel
of such a thought. Then abruptly the clamour died to nothing. I felt
six eyes bent on me, six unwinking eyes moving restless in motionless
figures, suspicious, deadly as cobras----
Up to now my standing with the men had been well enough. Now they drew
frankly apart. One of the most significant indications of this was
the increased respect they paid my office. It was as though by prompt
obedience, instant deference, and the emphasising of ship's etiquette
they intended to draw sharply the line between themselves and me.
There was much whispering apart, many private talks and consultations
in which I had no part. Ordinarily they talked freely enough before
me. Even the reading during the dog watch was intermitted--at least
it was on such days as I happened to be in the watch below. But twice
I caught the Nigger and Handy Solomon consulting together over the
volume on alchemy.
I was in two minds whether to report the whole matter to Captain
Selover. The only thing that restrained me was the vagueness of the
intention, and the fact that the afterguard was armed, and was four
to the crew's five. An incident, however, decided me. One evening I
was awakened by a sound of violent voices. Captain Selover occasionally
juggled the watches for variety's sake, and I now had Handy Solomon
and Perdosa. The Nigger, being cook, stood no watch.
"You drunken Greaser swab!" snarled Handy Solomon. "You misbegotten
son of a Yaqui! I'll learn you to step on a seaman's foot, and you
can kiss the book on that! I'll cut your heart out and feed it to the
"Potha!" sneered Perdosa. "You cut heem you finger wid your knife."
They wrangled. At first I thought the quarrel genuine, but after a
moment or so I could not avoid a sort of reminiscent impression of
the cheap melodrama. It seemed incredible, but soon I could not dodge
the conclusion that it was a made-up quarrel designed to impress me.
Why should they desire to do so? I had to give it up, but the fact
itself was obvious enough. I laughed to see them. The affair did not
come to blows, but it did come to black looks on meeting, muttered
oaths, growls of enmity every time they happened to pass each other
on the deck. Perdosa was not so bad; his Mexican blood inclined him
to the histrionic, and his Mexican cast lent itself well to evil looks.
But Handy Solomon, for the first time in my acquaintance with him,
was ridiculous.
About this time we crossed into frequent thunders. One evening just
at dark we made out a heavy black squall. Not knowing exactly what
weight lay behind it, I called up all hands. We ducked the staysail
and foresail, lowered the peak of the mainsail, and waited to feel
of it--a rough and ready seamanship often used in these little California
windjammers. I was pretty busy, but I heard distinctly Handy Solomon's
voice behind me.
"I'll kill you sure, you Greaser, as soon as my hands are free!"
And some muttered reply from the Mexican.
The wind hit us hard, held on a few moments, and moderated to a stiff
puff. There followed the rain, so of course I knew it would amount
to nothing. I was just stooping to throw the stops off the staysail
when I felt myself seized from behind, and forced rapidly toward the
side of the ship.
Of course I struggled. The Japanese have a little trick to fool a man
who catches you around the waist from behind. It is part of the
jiu-jitsu taught the Samurai--quite a different proposition from the
ordinary "policeman jiu-jitsu." I picked it up from a friend in the
nobility. It came in very handy now, and by good luck a roll of the
ship helped me. In a moment I stood free, and Perdosa was picking
himself out of the scuppers.
The expression of astonishment was fairly well done--I will say that
for him--but I was prepared for histrionics.
"Senor!" he gasped. "Eet is you! _Sacrosanta Maria!_ I thought
you was dat Solomon! Pardon me, senor! Pardon! Have I hurt you?"
He approached me almost wheedling. I could have laughed at the
villain. It was all so transparent. He no more mistook me for Handy
Solomon than he felt any real enmity for that person. But being angry,
and perhaps a little scared, I beat him to his quarters with a
belaying pin.
On thinking the matter over, however, I failed to see all the ins and
outs of it. I could understand a desire to get rid of me; there would
be one less of the afterguard, and then, too, I knew too much of the
men's sentiments, if not of their plans. But why all this elaborate
farce of the mock quarrel and the alleged mistake? Could it be to
guard against possible failure? I could hardly think it worth while.
My only theory was that they had wished to test my strength and
determination. The whole affair, even on that supposition, was
childish enough, but I referred the exaggerated cunning to Handy
Solomon, and considered it quite adequately explained. It is a minor
point, but subsequently I learned that this surmise was correct. I
was to be saved because none of the conspirators understood navigation.
The next morning I approached Captain Selover.
"Captain," said I, "I think it my duty to report that there is trouble
brewing among the crew."
"There always is," he replied, unmoved.
"But this is serious. Dr. Schermerhorn came aboard with a chest which
the men think holds treasure. The other evening Robinson overheard
him tell his assistant that he could easily fill the box with diamonds.
Of course, he was merely illustrating the value of some scientific
experiment, but Robinson thinks, and has made the others think, that
the chest contains something to make diamonds with. I am sure they
intend to get hold of it. The affair is coming to a head."
Captain Selover listened almost indifferently.
"I came back from the islands last year," he piped, "with three
hundred thousand dollars' worth of pearls. There was sixteen in the
crew, and every man of them was blood hungry for them pearls. They
had three or four shindies and killed one man over the proper way to
divide the loot after they had got it. They didn't get it. Why?" He
drew his powerful figure to its height and spread his thick arms out
in the luxury of stretching. "Why?" he repeated, exhaling abruptly.
"Because their captain was Ezra Selover! Well, Mr. Eagen," he went
on crisply, "Captain Ezra Selover is their captain, _and they know
it_! They'll talk and palaver and git into dark corners, and
sharpen their knives, and perhaps fight it out as to which one's going
to work the monkey-doodle business in the doctor's chest, and which
one's going to tie up the sacks of them diamonds, but they won't git
any farther as long as Captain Ezra is on deck." "Yes," I objected,
"but they mean business. Last night in the squall one of them tried
to throw me overboard."
Captain Selover grinned.
"What did you do?" he asked.
"Hazed him to his quarters with a belaying pin."
"Well, that's all settled then, isn't it? What more do you want?"
I stood undecided.
"I can take care of myself," he went on. "You ought to take care of
yourself. Then there's nothing more to do."
He mused a moment.
"You have a gun, of course?" he inquired. "I forgot to ask."
"No," said I.
He whistled.
"Well, no wonder you feel sort of lost and hopeless! Here, take this,
it'll make a man of you."
He gave me a Colt's 45, the barrel of which had been filed down to
about two inches of length. It was a most extraordinary weapon, but
effective at short range.
"Here's a few loose cartridges," said he. "Now go easy. This is no
warship, and we ain't got men to experiment on. Lick 'em with your
fists or a pin, if you can; and if you do shoot, for God's sake just
wing 'em a little. They're awful good lads, but a little restless."
I took the gun and felt better. With it I could easily handle the
members of my own watch, and I did not doubt that with the assistance
of Percy Darrow even a surprise would hardly overwhelm us. I did not
count on Dr. Schermerhorn. He was quite capable of losing himself in
a problem of trajectory after the first shot.
I came on deck one morning at about four bells to find the entire
ship's company afoot. Even the doctor was there. Everybody was gazing
eagerly at a narrow, mountainous island lying slate-coloured across
the early morning.
We were as yet some twenty miles distant from it, and could make out
nothing but its general outline. The latter was sharply defined,
rising and falling to a highest point one side of the middle. Over
the island, and raggedly clasping its sides, hung a cloud, the only
one visible in the sky.
I joined the afterguard.
"You see?" the doctor was exclaiming. "It iss as I haf said. The
island iss there. Everything iss as it should be!" He was quite
Percy Darrow, too, was shaken out of his ordinary calm.
"The volcano is active," was his only comment, but it explained the
ragged cloud.
"You say there's a harbour?" inquired Captain Selover.
"It should be on the west end," said Dr. Schermerhorn.
Captain Selover drew me one side. He, too was a little aroused.
"Now wouldn't that get you?" he squeaked. "Doctor runs up against a
Norwegian bum who tells him about a volcanic island, and gives its
bearings. The island ain't on the map at all. Doctor believes it, and
makes me lay my course for those bearings. _And here's the
island_! So the bum's story was true! I'd like to know what the
rest of it was!" His eyes were shining.
"Do we anchor or stand off and on?" I asked.
Captain Selover turned to grip me by the shoulder.
"I have orders from Darrow to get to a good berth, to land, to build
shore quarters, and to snug down for a stay of a year at least!"
We stared at each other.
"Joyous prospect," I muttered. "Hope there's something to do there."
The morning wore, and we rapidly approached the island. It proved to
be utterly precipitous. The high rounded hills sloped easily to within
a hundred feet or so of the water and then fell away abruptly. Where
the earth ended was a fantastic filigree border, like the fancy paper
with which our mothers used to line the pantry shelves. Below, the
white surges flung themselves against the cliffs with a wild abandon.
Thousands of sea birds wheeled in the eddies of the wind, thousands
of ravens perched on the slopes. With our glasses we could make out
the heads of seals fishing outside the surf, and a ragged belt of kelp.
When within a mile we put the helm up, and ran for the west end. A
bold point we avoided far out, lest there should be outlying ledges.
Then we came in sight of a broad beach and pounding surf.
I was ordered to take a surf boat and investigate for a landing and
an anchorage. The swell was running high. We rowed back and forth,
puzzled as to how to get ashore with all the freight it would be
necessary to land. The ship would lie well enough, for the only open
exposure was broken by a long reef over which we could make out the
seas tumbling. But inshore the great waves rolled smoothly, swiftly--
then suddenly fell forward as over a ledge, and spread with a roar
across the yellow sands. The fresh winds blew the spume back to us.
We conversed in shouts.
"We can surf the boat," yelled Thrackles, "but we can't land a load."
That was my opinion. We rowed slowly along, parallel to the shore,
and just outside the line of breakers. I don't know exactly how to
tell you the manner in which we became aware of the cove. It was as
nearly the instantaneous as can be imagined. One minute I looked ahead
on a cliff as unbroken as the side of a cabin; the very next I peered
down the length of a cove fifty fathoms long by about ten wide, at
the end of which was a gravel beach. I cried out sharply to the men.
They were quite as much astonished as I. We backed water, watching
closely. At a given point the cove and all trace of its entrance
disappeared. We could only just make out the line where the headlands
dissolved into the background of the cliffs, and that merely because
we knew of its existence. The blending was perfect.
We rowed in. The water was still. A faint ebb and flow whispered
against the tiny gravel beach at the end. I noted a practicable way
from it to the top of the cliff, and from the cliff down again to the
sand beach. Everything was perfect. The water was a beautiful light
green, like semi-opaque glass, and from the indistinctness of its
depths waved and beckoned, rose and disappeared with indescribable
grace and deliberation long feathery sea growths. In a moment the
bottom abruptly shallowed. The motion of the boat toward the beach
permitted us to catch a hasty glimpse of little fish darting, of big
fish turning, of yellow sand and some vivid colour. Then came the
grate of gravel and the scraping of the boat's bottom on the beach.
We jumped ashore eagerly. I left the men, very reluctant, and ascended
a natural trail to a high sloping down over which blew the great Trades.
Grass sprung knee-high. A low hill rose at the back. From below the
fall of the cliff came the pounding of surf.
I walked to the edge. Various ledges, sloping toward me, ran down to
the sea. Against one of them was a wreck, not so very old, head on,
her afterworks gone. I recognised the name _Golden Horn_, and
was vastly astonished to find her here against this unknown island.
Far up the coast I could see--with the surges dashing up like the explosion
of shells, and the cliffs, and the rampart of hills grown with grass
and cactus. A bold promontory terminated the coast view to the north,
and behind it I could glimpse a more fertile and wooded country. The
sky was partly overcast by the volcanic murk. It fled before the
Trades, and the red sun alternately blazed and clouded through it.
As there was nothing more to be seen here, I turned above the hollow
of our cove, skirted the base of the hill, and so down to the beach.
It occupied a wide semicircle where the hills drew back. The flat was
dry and grown with thick, coarse grass. A stream emerged from a sort
of canon on its landward side. I tasted it, found it sulphurous, and
a trifle worse than lukewarm. A little nearer the cliff, however, was
a clear, cold spring from the rock, and of this I had a satisfying
drink. When I arose from my knees, I made out an animal on the hill
crest looking at me, but before I could distinguish its
characteristics it had disappeared.
I returned along the tide sands. The surf dashed and roared, lifting
seaweeds of a blood red, so that in places the water looked pink.
Seals innumerable watched me from just outside the breakers. As the
waves lifted to a semi-transparence, I could make out others playing,
darting back and forth, up and down like disturbed tadpoles, clinging
to the wave until the very instant of its fall, then disappearing as
though blotted out. The salt smell of seaweed was in my nostrils: I
found the place pleasant--
With these few and scattered impressions we returned to the ship. It
had been warped to a secure anchorage, and snugged down. Dr.
Schermerhorn and Darrow were on deck waiting to go ashore.
I made my report. The two passengers disappeared. They carried lunch
and would not be back until night-fall. We had orders to pitch a large
tent at a suitable spot and to lighten ship of the doctor's personal
and scientific effects. By the time this was accomplished, the two
had returned.
"It's all right," Darrow volunteered to Captain Selover, as he came
over the side. "We've found what we want."
Their clothes were picked by brush and their boots muddy. Next morning
Captain Selover detailed me to especial work.
"You'll take two of the men and go ashore under Darrow's orders," said
Darrow told us to take clothes for a week, an axe apiece, and a block
and tackle. We made up our ditty bags, stepped into one of the surf
boats, and were rowed ashore. There Darrow at once took the lead.
Our way proceeded across the grass flat, through the opening of the
narrow canon, and so on back into the interior by way of the bed
through which flowed the sulphur stream. The country was badly eroded.
Most of the time we marched between perpendicular clay banks about
forty feet high. These were occasionally broken by smaller tributary
arroyos of the same sort. It would have been impossible to reach the
level of the upper country. The bed of the main arroyo was flat, and
grown with grasses and herbage of an extraordinary vividness, due,
I supposed, to the sulphur water. The stream itself meandered aimlessly
through the broader bed. It steadily grew warmer and the sulphur smell
more noticeable. Above us we could see the sky and the sharp clay edge
of the arroyo. I noticed the tracks of Darrow and Dr. Schermerhorn
made the day before.
After a mile of this, the bottom ran up nearly to the level of the
sides, and we stepped out on the floor of a little valley almost
surrounded by more hills.
It was an extraordinary place, and since much happened there, I must
give you an idea of it.
It was round and nearly encircled by naked painted hills. From its
floor came steam and a roaring sound. The steam blew here and
there among the pines on the floor; rose to eddy about the naked
painted hills. At one end we saw intermittently a broad ascending
canon--deep red and blue-black--ending in the cone of a smoking
volcano. The other seemed quite closed by the sheer hills; in fact
the only exit was the route by which we had come.
For the hills were utterly precipitous. I suppose a man might have
made his way up the various knobs, ledges, and inequalities, but it
would have required long study and a careful head. I, myself, later
worked my way a short distance, merely to examine the texture of their
marvellous colour.
This was at once varied and of great body--not at all like the smooth,
glossed colour of most rock, but soft and rich. You've seen painters'
palettes--it was just like that, pasty and _fat_. There were reds
of all shades, from a veritable scarlet to a red umber; greens, from
sea-green to emerald; several kinds of blue, and an indeterminate
purple-mauve. The whole effect was splendid and barbaric.
We stopped and gasped as it hit our eyes. Darrow alone was unmoved.
He led the way forward and in an instant had disappeared behind the
veil of steam. Thrackles and Perdosa hung back murmuring, but at a
sharp word from me gathered their courage in their two hands and proceeded.
We found that the first veil of steam, and a fearful stench of gases,
proceeded from a miniature crater whose edge was heavily encrusted
with a white salt. Beyond, close under the rise of the hill, was
another. Between the two Percy Darrow had stopped and was waiting.
He eyed us with his lazy, half-quizzical glance as we approached.
"Think the place is going to blow up?" he inquired, with a tinge of
irony. "Well, it isn't." He turned to me. "Here's where we shall stay
for a while. You and the men are to cut a number of these pine trees
for a house. Better pick out the little ones, about three or four
inches through: they're easier handled. I'll be back by noon."
We set to work then in the roaring, steaming valley with the vapour
swirling about us, sometimes concealing us, sometimes half revealing
us gigantic, again in the utterness of exposure showing us dwindled
pigmies against the magnitudes about us. The labour was not difficult.
By the time Darrow returned we had a pile of the saplings ready for
his next direction.
He was accompanied by the Nigger, very much terrified, very much
burdened with food and cooking utensils. The assistant was lazily
relating tales of voodoos, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
CAPTAIN SELOVER LOSES HIS NERVE
I lived in the place for three weeks. We were afoot shortly after
daybreak, under way by sun-up, and at work before the heats began.
Three of us worked on the buildings, and the rest formed a pack train
carrying all sorts of things from the shore to the valley. The men
grumbled fiercely at this, but Captain Selover drove them with slight
regard for their opinions or feelings.
"You're getting double pay," was his only word, "earn it!"
They certainly earned it during those three weeks. The things they
brought up were astounding. Besides a lot of scientific apparatus and
chests of chemical supplies, everything that could possibly be
required, had been provided by that omniscient young man. After we
had built a long, low structure, windows were forthcoming, shelves,
tables, sinks, faucets, forges, burners, all cut out, fitted and ready
to put together, each with its proper screws, nails, clamps, or pipes
ready to our hands. When we had finished, we had constructed as
complete a laboratory on a small scale as you could find on a college
campus, even to the stone pillar down to bed-rock for delicate
microscopic experiments, and hot and cold water led from the springs.
And we were utterly unskilled. It was all Percy Darrow.
I was toward the last engaged in screwing on a fixture for the
generation of acetelyne gas.
"Darrow," said I, "there's one thing you've overlooked; you forgot
to bring a cupola and a gilt weather-cock for this concern."
After the laboratory was completed, we put up sleeping quarters for
the two men, with wide porches well screened, and a square, heavy
storeroom. By the end of the third week we had quite finished.
Dr. Schermerhorn had turned with enthusiasm to the unpacking of his
chemical apparatus. Almost immediately at the close of the
freight-carrying, he had appeared, lugging his precious chest, this
time suffering the assistance of Darrow, and had camped on the spot.
We could not induce him to leave, so we put up a tent for him. Darrow
remained with him by way of safety against the men, whose measure,
I believe, he had taken. Now that all the work was finished, the doctor
put in a sudden appearance.
"Percy," said he, "now we will have the defence built."
He dragged us with him to the narrow part of the arroyo, just before
it rose to the level of the valley.
"Here we will build the stockade-defence," he announced.
Darrow and I stared at each other blankly.
"What for, sir?" inquired the assistant.
"I haf come to be undisturbed," announced the doctor, with owl-like,
Teutonic gravity, "and I will not be disturbed."
Darrow nodded to me and drew his principal aside.
They conversed earnestly for several minutes. Then the assistant
returned to me.
"No use," he shrugged in complete return to his indifferent manner.
"Stockade it is. Better make it of fourteen foot logs, slanted out.
Dig a trench across, plant your logs three or four feet, bind them
at the top. That's his specification for it. Go at it."
"But," I expostulated, "what's the _use_ of it? Even if the men
were dangerous, that would just make them think you _did_ have
something to guard."
"I know that. Orders," replied Percy Darrow.
We built the stockade in a day. When it was finished we marched to
the beach, and never, save in the three instances of which I shall
later tell you, did I see the valley again. The next day we washed
our clothes, and moved ashore with all our belongings.
"I'm not going to have this crew aboard," stated Captain Selover
positively, "I'm going to clean her." He himself stayed, however.
We rowed in, constructed a hasty fireplace of stones, spread our
blankets, and built an unnecessary fire near the beach.
"Clean her!" grumbled Thrackles, "my eye!"
"I'd rather round the Cape," growled Pulz hopelessly.
"Come, now, it can't be as bad as all that," I tried to cheer them.
"It can't be more than a week or ten days' job, even if we careen her."
"You don't know what you're talking about," said Thrackles. "It's
worse than the yellow jack. It's six weeks at least. Mind when we last
'cleaned her'?" he inquired of Handy Solomon.
"You can kiss the Book on it," replied he. "Down by the line in that
little swab of a sand island. My eye, but _don't_ I remember!
I sweated my liver white."
They smoked in silence.
"That's a main queer contrivance of the Perfessor's--that
stockade-like," ventured Solomon, after a little.
"He doesn't want any intrusion," I said. "These scientific experiments
are very delicate."
"Quite like," he commented non-committally.
We slept on the ground that night, and next morning, under Captain
Selover's directions, we commenced the task of lightening the ship.
He detailed the Nigger and Perdosa for special duty.
"I'll just see to your shore quarters," he squeaked. "You empty her."
All day long we rowed back and forth from the ship to the cove,
landing the contents of the hold. These, by good fortune, we did not
have to carry over the neck of land, for just above the gravel beach
was a wide ledge on which we could pile the stores. We ate aboard,
and so had no opportunity of seeing what Captain Selover and his men
were about, until evening. Then we discovered that they had collected
and lowered to the beach a quantity of stateroom doors from the wreck,
and had trundled the galley stove to the edge where it awaited our
assistance. We hitched a cable to it, and let it down gently. The
Nigger was immensely pleased. After some experiment he got it to draw,
and so cooked us our supper on it. After supper, Captain Selover rowed
himself back to the ship.
"Eagen," he had said, drawing me aside, "I'm going to leave you with
them. It's better that one of us--I think as owner I ought to be
"Of course, sir," said I, "it's the only proper place for you."
"I'm glad you think so," he rejoined, apparently relieved. "And
anyway," he cried, with a burst of feeling, "I hate the gritty feeling
of it under my feet! Solid oak's the only walking for a man."
He left me hastily, as though a trifle ashamed. I thought he seemed
depressed, even a little furtive, and yet on analysis I could discover
nothing definite on which to base such a conclusion.
It was rather a feeling of difference from the man I had known. In
my fatigue it seemed hardly worth thinking about.
The men had rolled themselves in their blankets, tired with the long
Next morning Captain Selover was ashore early. He had quite recovered
his spirits, and offered me a dram of French brandy, which I refused.
We worked hard again; again the master returned at night to his
vessel, this time without a word to any of us; again the men, drugged
by toil, turned in early and slept like the dead.
We became entangled in a mesh of days like these, during which things
were accomplished, but in which was no space for anything but the
tasks imposed upon us. The men for the most part had little to say.
"Por Dios, eet is too mooch work!" sighed Perdosa once.
"Why don't you kick to the Old Man, then?" sneered Thrackles.
The silence that followed, and the sullenness with which Perdosa
readdressed himself to his work, was significant enough of Captain
Selover's past relations with the men.
And how we did clean her! We stripped her of every stitch and sliver
until she floated high, an empty hull, even her spars and running
rigging ashore. I understood now the crew's grumbling. We literally
went at her with a nail brush.
Captain Selover took charge of us when we had reached this period.
He and the Nigger and Perdosa had long since finished the installation
of the permanent camp. They had built us huts from the wreck, collecting
stateroom doors for the sides, and hatches for the roofs, huge and
solid, with iron rings in them. The bronze and iron ventilation
gratings to the doors gave us glimpses of the coast through fretwork;
the rich inlaying of woods surrounded us. We set up on a solid rock
the galley stove--with its rails to hold the cooking pots from
upsetting, in a sea way. In it we burned the debris of the wreck, all
sorts of wood, some sweet and aromatic and spicy as an incensed
cathedral. I have seen the Nigger boiling beans over a blaze of sandal
wood fragrant as an Eastern shop.
First we scrubbed the _Laughing Lass_, then we painted her, and
resized and tarred her standing rigging, resized and rove her running
gear, slushed her masts, finally careened her and scraped and painted
When we had quite finished, we had the anchor chain dealt out to us
in fathoms, and scraped, pounded and polished that. These were indeed
days full of labour.
Being busy from morning until night we knew but little of what was
about us. We saw the open sea and the waves tumbling over the reef
outside. We saw the headlands, and the bow of the bay and the surf
with its watching seals and the curve of yellow sands. We saw the
sweep of coast and the downs and the strange huts we had built out
of departed magnificence. And that was all; that constituted our world.
In the evening sometimes we lit a big bonfire, sailor fashion, just
at the edge of the beach. There we sat at ease and smoked our pipes
in silence, too tired to talk. Even Handy Solomon's song was still.
Outside the circle of light were mysterious things--strange wavings
of white hands, bendings of figures, callings of voices, rustling of
feet. We knew them for the surf and the wind in the grasses: but they
were not the less mysterious for that.
Logically Captain Selover and I should have passed most of our
evenings together. As a matter of fact we so spent very few. Early
in the dusk the captain invariably rowed himself out to his beloved
schooner. What he did there I do not know. We could see his light now
in one part of her, now in the other. The men claimed he was scrubbing
her teeth. "Old Scrubs" they called him to his back: never Captain
"He has to clean up after his own feet, he's so dirty," sagely
proffered Handy Solomon. And this was true.
The seaman's prophecy held good. Seven weeks held us at that infernal
job--seven weeks of solid, grinding work. The worst of it was, that
we were kept at it so breathlessly, as though our very existence were
to depend on the headlong rush of our labour. And then we had fully
half the stores to put away again, and the other half to transport
painfully over the neck of land from the cove to the beach.
So accustomed had I become to the routine in which we were involved,
so habituated to anticipating the coming day as exactly like the day
that had gone, that the completion of our job caught me quite by
surprise. I had thrown myself down by the fire prepared for the some
old half hour of drowsy nicotine, to be followed by the accustomed
heavy sleep, and the usual early rising to toil. The evening was warm;
I half closed my eyes.
Handy Solomon was coming in last. Instead of dropping to his place,
he straddled the fire, stretching his arms over his head. He let them
fall with a sharp exhalation.
 "'Lay aloft, lay aloft,' the jolly bos'n cried.
     _Blow high, blow low, what care we!_
  'Look ahead, look astern, look a-windward, look a-lee.'
     _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e._"
The effect was electrical. We all sprang to our feet and fell to
talking at once.
"By God, we're _through_!" cried Pulz. "I'd clean forgot it!"
The Nigger piled on more wood. We drew closer about the fire. All the
interests in life, so long held in the background, leaped forward,
eager for recognition. We spoke of trivialities almost for the first
time since our landing, fused into a temporary but complete good
fellowship by the relief.
"Wonder how the old doctor is getting on?" ventured Thrackles, after
"The devil's a preacher! I wonder?" cried Handy Solomon.
"Let's make 'em a call," suggested Pulz.
"Don't believe they'd appreciate the compliment," I laughed. "Better
let them make first call: they're the longer established." This was
lost on them, of course. But we all felt kindly to one another that
I carried the glow of it with me over until next morning, and was
therefore somewhat dashed to meet Captain Selover, with clouded brows
and an uncertain manner. He quite ignored my greeting.
"By God, Eagen," he squeaked, "can you think of anything more to be
I straightened my back and laughed.
"Haven't you worked us hard enough?" I inquired. "Unless you gild the
cabins, I don't see what else there can be to do."
Captain Selover stared me over.
"And you a naval man!" he marvelled. "Don't you see that the only
thing that keeps this crew from gettin' restless is keeping them busy?
I've sweat a damn sight more with my brain than you have with your
back thinking up things to do. I can't see anything ahead, and then
we'll have hell to pay. Oh, they're a sweet lot!"
I whistled and my crest fell. Here was a new point of view; and also
a new Captain Ezra. Where was the confidence in the might of his two
He seemed to read my thoughts, and went on.
"I don't feel _sure_ here on this cussed land. It ain't like a
deck where a man has some show. They can scatter. They can hide. It
ain't right to put a man ashore alone with such a crew. I'm doing my
best, but it ain't goin' to be good enough. I wisht we were safe in
'Frisco harbour----"
He would have maundered on, but I seized his arm and led him out of
possible hearing of the men.
"Here, buck up!" I said to him sternly. "There's nothing to be scared
of. If it comes to a row, there's three of us and we've got guns. We
could even sail the schooner at a pinch, and leave them here. You've
stood them off before."
"Not ashore," protested Captain Selover weakly.
"Well, they don't know that. For God's sake don't let them see you've
lost your nerve this way." He did not even wince at the accusation.
"Put up a front."
He shook his head. The sand had completely run out of him. Yet I am
convinced that if he could have felt the heave and roll of the deck
beneath him, he would have faced three times the difficulties he now
feared. However, I could see readily enough the wisdom of keeping the
men at work.
"You can wreck the _Golden Horn_," I suggested. "I don't know
whether there's anything left worth salvage; but it'll be something
He clapped me on the shoulder.
"Good!" he cried, "I never thought of it."
"Another thing," said I, "you better give them a day off a week. That
can't hurt them and it'll waste just that much more time."
"All right," agreed Captain Selover.
"Another thing yet. You know I'm not lazy, so it ain't that I'm trying
to dodge work. But you'd better lay me off. It'll be so much more for
the others."
"That's true," said he.
I could not recognise the man for what I knew him to be. He groped,
as one in the dark, or as a sea animal taken out of its element and
placed on the sands. Courage had given place to fear; decision to
wavering; and singleness of purpose to a divided counsel. He who had
so thoroughly dominated the entire ship, eagerly accepted advice of
me--a man without experience.
That evening I sat apart considerably disturbed. I felt that the
ground had dropped away beneath my feet. To be sure, everything was
tranquil at present; but now I understood the source of that
tranquillity and how soon it must fail. With opportunity would come
more scheming, more speculation, more cupidity. How was I to meet it,
with none to back me but a scared man, an absorbed man, and an
indifferent man?
WRECKING OF THE GOLDEN HORN
Percy Darrow, unexpected, made his first visit to us the very next
evening. He sauntered in with a Mexican corn-husk cigarette between
his lips, carrying a lantern; blew the light out, and sat down with
a careless greeting, as though he had seen us only the day before.
"Hullo, boys," said he, "been busy?"
"How are ye, sir?" replied Handy Solomon. "Good Lord, mates, look at
Our eyes followed the direction of his forefinger. Against the dark
blue of the evening sky to northward glowed a faint phosphorescence,
arch-shaped, from which shot, with pulsating regularity, long shafts
of light. They beat almost to the zenith, and back again, a half dozen
times, then the whole illumination disappeared with the suddenness
of gas turned out.
"Now I wonder what that might be!" marvelled Thrackles.
"Northern lights," hazarded Pulz. "I've seen them almost like that
in the Behring Seas."
"Northern lights your eye!" sneered Handy Solomon. "You may have seen
them in the Behring Seas, but never this far south, and in August,
and you can, kiss the Book on that."
"What do you think, sir?" Thrackles inquired of the assistant.
"Devil's fire," replied Percy Darrow briefly. "The island's a little
queer. I've noticed it before."
"Debbil fire," repeated the Nigger.
Darrow turned directly to him.
"Yes, devil's fire; and devils, too, for all I know; and certainly
vampires. Did you ever hear of vampires, Doctor?"
"No," growled the Nigger.
"Well, they are women, wonderful, beautiful women. A man on a long
voyage would just smack his lips to see them. They have shiny grey
eyes, and lips red as raspberries. When you meet them they will talk
with you and go home with you. And then when you're asleep they tear
a little hole in your neck with their sharp claws, and they suck the
blood with their red lips. When they aren't women, they take the shape
of big bats like birds." He turned to me with so beautifully casual
an air that I wanted to clap him on the back with the joy of it.
"By the way, Eagen, have you noticed those big bats the last few
evenings, over by the cliff? _I_ can't make out in the dusk
whether they are vampires or just plain bats." He directed his remarks
again to the Nigger. "Next time you see any of those big bats, Doctor,
just you notice close. If they have just plain, black eyes, they're
all right; but if they have grey eyes, with red rims around 'em,
they're vampires. I wish you'd let me know, if you do find out. It's
interesting."
"Don' get me near no bats," growled the Nigger.
"Where's Selover?" inquired Darrow.
"He stays aboard," I hastened to say. "Wants to keep an eye on the
"That's laudable. What have you been doing?"
"We've been cleaning ship. Just finished yesterday evening."
"What next?"
"We were thinking of wrecking the _Golden Horn_."
"Quite right. Well, if you want any help with your engines or anything
of the sort, call on me."
He arose and began to light his lantern. "I hope as how you're getting
on well there above, sir?" ventured Handy Solomon insinuatingly.
"Very well, I thank you, my man," replied Percy Darrow drily.
"Remember those vampires, Doctor."
He swung the lantern and departed without further speech. We followed
the spark of it until it disappeared in the arroyo.
Behind us bellowed the sea; over against us in the sky was the dull
threatening glow of the volcano; about us were mysterious noises of
crying birds, barking seals, rustling or rushing winds. I felt the
thronging ghosts of all the old world's superstition swirling madly
behind us in the eddies that twisted the smoke of our fire.
We wrecked the _Golden Horn_. Forward was a rusted-out donkey
engine, which we took to pieces and put together again. It was no mean
job, for all the running parts had to be cleaned smooth, and with the
exception of a rudimentary knowledge on the part of Pulz and Perdosa,
we were ignorant. In fact we should not have succeeded at all had it
not been for Percy Darrow and his lantern. The first evening we took
him over to the cliff's edge he laughed aloud.
"Jove, boys, how could you guess it _all_ wrong," he wondered.
With a few brief words he set us right, Pulz, Perdosa, and I listening
intently; the others indifferent in the hopelessness of being able
to comprehend. Of course, we went wrong again in our next day's
experiments; but Darrow was down two or three times a week, and
gradually we edged toward a practical result.
His explanations consumed but a few moments. After they were finished,
we adjourned to the fire.
Thus we came gradually to a better acquaintance with the doctor's
assistant. In many respects he remained always a puzzle, to me.
Certainly the men never knew how to take him. He was evidently not
only unafraid of them, but genuinely indifferent to them.
Yet he displayed a certain interest in their needs and affairs. His
practical knowledge was enormous. I think I have told you of the
completeness of his arrangements--everything had been foreseen from
grindstones to gas nippers. The same quality of concrete speculation
showed him what we lacked in our own lives.
There was, as you remember, the matter of Handy Solomon's steel claw.
He showed Thrackles a kind of lanyard knot that deep-sea person had
never used. He taught Captain Selover how to make soft soap out of
one species of seaweed. Me, he initiated in the art of fishing with
a white bone lure. Our camp itself he reconstructed on scientific lines
so that we enjoyed less aromatic smoke and more palatable dinner. And
all of it he did amusedly, as though his ideas were almost too obvious
to need communication.
We became in a manner intimate with him. He guyed the men in his
indolent fashion, playing on their credulity, their good nature, even
their forbearance. They alternately grinned and scowled. He left
always a confused impression, so that no one really knew whether he
cherished rancour against Percy Darrow or kindly feeling.
The Nigger was Darrow's especial prey. The assistant had early
discovered that the cook was given to signs, omens, and superstitions.
From a curious scholar's lore he drew fantastics with which to torment
his victim. We heard of all the witches, warlocks, incubi, succibi,
harpies, devils, imps, and haunters of Avitchi, from all the teachings
of history, sacred and profane, Hindu, Egyptian, Greek, mediaeval,
Swedenborg, Rosicrucian, theosophy, theology, with every last ounce
of horror, mystery, shivers, and creeps squeezed out of them. They
were gorgeous ghost stories, for they were told by a man fully informed
as to all the legendary and gruesome details. At first I used to think
he might have communicated it more effectively. Then I saw that the
cool, drawling manner, the level voice, were in reality the highest
art. He told his stories in a half-amused, detached manner which imposed
confidence more readily than any amount of earnest asseveration. The
mere fact of his own belief in what he said came to matter little.
He was the vehicle by which was brought accurate knowledge. He had
read all these things, and now reported them as he had read: each man
could decide for himself as to their credibility.
At last the donkey engine was cleared and reinstalled, atop the cliff.
The Nigger built under her a fire of black walnut; Captain Selover
handed out grog all around; and we started her up with a cheer, just
to see the wheels revolve.
Next we half buried some long hatches, end up, to serve as bitts for
the lines, hitched our cables to them, and joyfully commenced the task
of pulling the _Golden Horn_ piece by piece up the side of the
The stores were badly damaged by the wet, and there was no liquor,
for which I was sincerely grateful. We broke into the boxes, and arrayed
ourselves in various garments--which speedily fell to pieces--and
appropriated gim-cracks of all sorts. There were some arms, but the
ammunition had gone bad. Perdosa, out of forty or fifty mis-fires,
got one feeble sputter, and a tremendous _bang_ which blew up
his piece, leaving only the stock in his hand. A few tinned goods were
edible; but all the rest was destroyed. A lot of hard woods, a
thousand feet of chain cable, and a fairly good anchor might be
considered as prizes. As for the rest, it was foolishness, but we
hauled it up just the same until nothing at all remained. Then we shut
off the donkey engine, and put on dry clothes. We had been quite happy
for the eight months.
It was now well along toward spring. The winter had been like summer,
and with the exception of a few rains of a week or so, we had enjoyed
beautiful skies. The seals had thinned out considerably, but were now
returning in vast numbers ready for their annual domestic
arrangements.
Our Sundays we had mostly spent in resting, or in fishing. There were
many deep sea fish to be had, of great palatability, but small
gameness; they came like so many leaden weights. A few of us had
climbed some of the hills in a half-hearted curiosity, but from their
summits saw nothing to tempt weariness. Practically we knew nothing
beyond the mile or so of beach on which we lived.
Captain Selover had made a habit of coming ashore at least once during
the day. He had contented himself with standing aloof, but I took
pains to seem to confer with him, so that the men might suppose that
I, as mate, was engaged in carrying out his directions. The dread of
him was my most potent influence over them.
During the last few days of our wrecking, Captain Selover had omitted
his daily visit. The fact made me uneasy, so that at my first
opportunity I sculled myself out to the schooner. I found him,
moist-eyed as usual, leaning against the mainmast doing nothing.
"We've finished, sir," said I.
He looked at me.
"Will you come ashore and have a look, sir?" I inquired.
"I ain't going ashore again," he muttered thickly.
"What!" I cried.
"I ain't going ashore again," he repeated obstinately, "and that's
all there is to it. It's too much of a strain on any man. Suit yourself.
You run them. I shipped as captain of a vessel. I'm no dock walloper.
I won't _do_ it--for no man!"
I gasped with dismay at the man's complete moral collapse. It seemed
incredible. I caught myself wondering whether he would recover tone
were he again to put to sea.
"My God, man, but you _must_!" I cried at last.
"I won't, and that's flat," said he, and turned deliberately on his
heel and disappeared in the cabin.
I went ashore thoughtful and a little scared. But on reflection I
regained a great part of my ease of mind. You see, I had been with
these men now eight months, during which they had been as orderly as
so many primary schoolboys. They had worked hard, without grumbling,
and had even approached a sort of friendliness about the camp fire.
My first impression was overlaid. As I looked back on the voyage, with
what I took to be a clearer vision, I could not but admit that the
incidents were in themselves trivial enough--a natural excitement by
a superstitious negro, a little tall talk that meant nothing. It must
have been the glamour of the adventure that had deceived me; that,
and the unusual stage setting and costuming. Certainly few men would
work hard for eight months without a murmur, without a chance to look
In that, of course, I was deceived by my inexperience. I realised
later the wonderful effect Captain Selover threw away with his empty
brandy bottles. The crew might grumble and plot during the watch
below; but when Captain Ezra Selover said _work_, they worked.
He had been saying work, for eight months. They had, from force of
experience, obeyed him. It was all very simple.
THE EMPTY BRANDY BOTTLE
So there I was at once deprived of my chief support. Although no
danger seemed imminent, nevertheless the necessity of acting on my
own initiative and responsibility oppressed me somewhat.
Truth to tell, after the first, I was more relieved than dismayed at
the captain's resolution to stay aboard. His drinking habit was
growing on him, and afloat or ashore he was now little more than a
figurehead, so that my chief asset as far as he was concerned, was
rather his reputation than his direct influence. In contact with the
men, I dreaded lest sooner or later he do something to lessen or
destroy the awe in which they held him.
Of course Dr. Schermerhorn had been mistaken in his man: A real
captain of men would have risen to circumstances wherever he found
them. But who could have foretold? Captain Selover had been a rascal
always, but a successful and courageous rascal. He had run desperate
chances, dominated desperate crews. Who could know that a crumble of
island beach and six months ashore would turn him into what he had
become? Yet I believe such cases are not uncommon in other walks of
life. A man and his work combine to mean something; yet both may be
absolutely useless when separated. It was the weak link----
I put in some time praying earnestly that the eyes of the crew might
be blinded, and that the doctor would finish his experiments before
the cauldron could boil up again.
My first act as real commander was to announce holiday. My idea was
that the island would keep the men busy for a while. Then I would
assign them more work to do. They proposed at once a tour into the
We started up the west coast. After three or four miles along a mesa
formation where often we had to circle long detours to avoid the
gullies, we came upon another short beach, and beyond it a series of
ledges on which basked several hundred seals. They did not seem
alarmed. In fact one old bull, scarred by many battles, made toward
We left him, scaled the cliff, and turned up a broad, pleasant valley
toward the interior.
There the later lava flow had been deflected. All that showed of the
original eruption were occasional red outcropping rocks. Soil and
grass had overlaid the mineral. Scattered trees were planted
throughout the flat. Cacti and semi-tropical bushes mingled with brush
on the rounded side hills. A number of brilliant birds fluttered at
our approach.
Suddenly Handy Solomon, who was in advance, stopped and pointed to
the crest of the hill. A file of animals moved along the sky line.
"Mutton!" said he, "or the devil's a preacher!"
"Sheep!" cried Thrackles. "Where did they come from?"
"_Golden Horn_," I suggested. "Remember that wide, empty deck
forward? They carried sheep there." The men separated, intending fresh
meat. The affair was ridiculous. These sheep had become as wild as
deer. Our surrounding party with its silly bared knives could only
look after them open-mouthed, as they skipped nimbly between its
"Get a gun of the Old Man, Mr. Eagen," suggested Pulz, "and we'll have
something besides salt horse and fish."
We continued. The island was like this as far as we went. When we
climbed a ridge, we found ourselves looking down on a spider-web of
other valleys and canons of the same nature, all diverging to broad
downs and a jump into the sea, all converging to the outworks that
guarded the volcano with its canopy of vapour.
On our way home we cut across the higher country and the heads of the
canons until we found ourselves looking down on the valley and Dr.
Schermerhorn's camp. The steam from the volcanic blowholes swayed
below us. Through its rifts we saw the tops of the buildings.
Presently we made out Percy Darrow, dressed in overalls, his sleeves
rolled back, and carrying a retort. He walked, very preoccupied, to
one of the miniature craters, where he knelt and went through some
operation indistinguishable at the distance. I looked around to see
my companions staring at him fascinated, their necks craned out, their
bodies drawn back into hiding. In a moment he had finished, and
carried the retort carefully into the laboratory. The men sighed and
stood erect, once more themselves. As we turned away Perdosa voiced
what must have been in the minds of all.
"A man could climb down there," said he.
"Why should he want to?" I demanded sharply.
"_Quien sabe_?" shrugged he.
We turned in silence toward the beach. Each brooded his thoughts. The
sight of that man dressed in overalls, carrying on some mysterious
business, brought home to each of us the fact that our expedition had
an object, as yet unknown to us. The thought had of late dropped into
the background. For my part I had been so immersed in the adventure
and the labour and the insistent need of the hour that I had forgotten
why I had come. Dr. Schermerhorn's purpose was as inscrutable to me
as at first. What had I accomplished?
The men, too, seemed struck with some such idea. There were no yarns
about the camp fire that night. Percy Darrow did not appear, for which
I was sincerely sorry. His presence might have created a diversion.
For some unknown reason all my old apprehensions, my sense of
impending disaster, had returned to me strengthened. In the firelight
the Nigger's sullen face looked sinister, Pulz's nervous white
countenance looked vicious. Thrackles' heavy, bulldog expression was
threatening, Perdosa's Mexican cast fit for knife work in the back.
And Handy Solomon, stretched out, leaning on his elbow, with his red
headgear, his snaky hair, his hook nose, his restless eye and his
glittering steel claw--the glow wrote across his aura the names of
Kid, Morgan, Blackbeard. They sat smoking, staring into the fire with
mesmerised eyes. The silence got on my nerves I arose impatiently and
walked down the pale beach, where the stars glimmered in splashes
along the wettest sands. The black silhouette of the hills against
the dark blue of the night sky; the white of breakers athwart the
indistinct heave of the ocean, a faint light marking the position of
the _Laughing Lass_--that was everything in the world. I made
out some object rolled about in the edge of the wash. At the cost of
wet feet I rescued it. It was an empty brandy bottle.
[Illustration: "These sheep had become as wild as deer"]
CHANGE OF MASTERS
The next day we continued our explorations by land, and so for a week
after that. I thought it best not to relinquish all authority, so I
organised regular expeditions, and ordered their direction. The men
did not object. It was all good enough fun to them.
The net results were that we found a nesting place of sea birds--too
late in the season for eggs; a hot spring near enough camp to be
useful; and that was about all. The sheep were the only animals on
the island, although there were several sorts of birds. In general,
the country was as I have described it--either volcanic or overlaid
with fertile earth. In any case it was canon and hill. We soon grew
tired of climbing and turned our attention to the sea.
With the surf boat we skirted the coast. It was impregnable except
in three places: our own beach, that near the seal rookery, and on
the south side of the island. We landed at each one of these places.
But returning close to the coast we happened upon a cave mouth more
or less guarded by an outlying rock.
The day was calm, so we ventured in. At first I thought it merely a
gorge in the rock, but even while peering for the end wall we slipped
under the archway and found ourselves in a vast room.
Our eyes were dazzled so we could make out little at first. But
through the still, clear water the light filtered freely from below,
showing the bottom as through a sea glass. We saw the fish near the
entrance, and coral and sea growths of marvellous vividness. They
waved slowly as in a draught of air. The medium in which they floated
was absolutely invisible, for, of course, there were no reflections
from its surface. We seemed to be suspended in mid-air, and only when
the dipping oars made rings could we realise that anything sustained
Suddenly the place let loose in pandemonium. The most fiendish cries,
groans, shrieks, broke out, confusing themselves so thoroughly with
their own echoes that the volume of sound was continuous. Heavy
splashes shook the water. The boat rocked. The invisible surface was
broken into facets.
We shrank, terrified. From all about us glowed hundreds of eyes like
coals of fire--on a level with us, above us, almost over our heads.
Two by two the coals were extinguished.
Below us the bottom was clouded with black figures, darting rapidly
like a school of minnows beneath a boat. They darkened the coral and
the sands and the glistening sea growths just as a cloud temporarily
darkens the landscape--only the occultations and brightenings
succeeded each other much more swiftly.
We stared stupefied, our thinking power blurred by the incessent whirl
of motion and noise.
Suddenly Thrackles laughed aloud.
"Seals!" he shouted through his trumpeted hands.
Our eyes were expanding to the twilight. We could make out the arch
of the room, its shelves, and hollows, and niches. Lying on them we
could discern the seals, hundreds and hundreds of them, all staring
at us, all barking and bellowing. As we approached, they scrambled
from their elevations, and, diving to the bottom, scurried to the entrance
of the cave.
We lay on our oars for ten minutes. Then silence fell. There persisted
a tiny _drip, drip, drip_ from some point in the darkness. It
merely accentuated the hush. Suddenly from far in the interior of the
hill there came a long, hollow _boo-o-o-m_! It reverberated,
roaring. The surge that had lifted our boat some minutes before thus
reached its journey's end.
The chamber was very lofty. As we rowed cautiously in, it lost nothing
of its height, but something in width. It was marvellously coloured,
like all the volcanic rocks of this island. In addition some chemical
drip had thrown across its vividness long gauzy streamers of white.
We rowed in as far as the faintest daylight lasted us. The occasional
reverberating _boom_ of the surges seemed as distant as ever.
This was beyond the seal rookery on the beach. Below it we entered
an open cleft of some size to another squarer cave. It was now high
tide; the water extended a scant ten fathoms to end on an interior
shale beach. The cave was a perfectly straight passage following the
line of the cleft. How far in it reached we could not determine, for
it, too, was full of seals, and after we had driven them back a hundred
feet or so their fiery eyes scared us out. We did not care to put them
at bay. The next day I rowed out to the _Laughing Lass_ and got
a rifle. I found the captain asleep in his bunk, and did not disturb
him. Perdosa and I, with infinite pains, tracked and stalked the
sheep, of which I killed one. We found the mutton excellent. The
hunting was difficult, and the quarry, as time went on, more and more
suspicious, but henceforward we did not lack for fresh meat.
Furthermore we soon discovered that fine trolling was to be had
outside the reef. We rigged a sail for the extra dory, and spent much
of our time at the sport. I do not know the names of the fish. They
were very gamy indeed, and ran from five to an indeterminate number
of pounds in weight. Above fifty pounds our light tackle parted, so
we had no means of knowing how large they may have been.
Thus we spent very pleasantly the greater part of two weeks. At the
end of that time I made up my mind that it would be just as well to
get back to business. Accordingly I called Perdosa and directed him
to sort and clear of rust the salvaged chain cable. He refused flatly.
I took a step toward him. He drew his knife and backed away.
"Perdosa," said I firmly, "put up that knife."
"No," said he.
I pulled the saw-barrelled Colt's 45 and raised it slowly to a level
with his breast.
"Perdosa," I repeated, "drop that knife."
The crisis had come, but my resolution was fully prepared for it. I
should not have cared greatly if I had had to shoot the man--as I
certainly should have done had he disobeyed. There would then have
been one less to deal with in the final accounting, which strangely
enough I now for a moment never doubted would come. I had not before
aimed at a man's life, so you can see to what tensity the baffling
mystery had strung me.
Perdosa hesitated a fraction of an instant. I really think he might
have chanced it, but Handy Solomon, who had been watching me closely,
growled at him.
"Drop it, you fool!" he said.
Perdosa let fall the knife.
"Now, get at that cable," I commanded, still at white heat. I stood
over him until he was well at work, then turned back to set tasks for
the other men. Handy Solomon met me halfway.
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Eagen," said he, "I want a word with you."
"I have nothing to say to you," I snapped, still excited.
"It ain't reasonable not to hear a man's say," he advised in his most
conciliatory manner, "I'm talking for all of us."
He paused a moment, took my silence for consent, and went ahead.
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Eagen," said he, "we ain't going to do any
more useless work. There ain't no laziness about us, but we ain't
going to be busy at nothing. All the camp work and the haulin' and
cuttin' and cleanin' and the rest of it, we'll do gladly. But we ain't
goin' to pound any more cable, and you can kiss the Book on that."
"You mean to mutiny?" I asked.
He made a deprecatory gesture.
"Put us aboard ship, sir, and let us hear the Old Man give his orders,
and you'll find no mutiny in us. But here ashore it's different. Did
the Old Man give orders to pound the cable?"
"I represent the captain," I stammered.
He caught the evasion. "I thought so. Well, if you got any kick on
us, please, sir, go get the Old Man. If he says to our face, pound
cable, why pound cable it is. Ain't that right, boys?"
They murmured something. Perdosa deliberately dropped his hammer and
joined the group. My hand strayed again toward the sawed-off Colt's
"I wouldn't do that," said Handy Solomon, almost kindly. "You couldn't
kill us all. And w'at good would it do? I asks you that. I can cut
down a chicken with my knife at twenty feet. You must surely see, sir,
that I could have killed you too easy while you were covering Pancho
there. This ain't got to be a war, Mr. Eagen, just because we don't
want to work without any sense to it."
There was more of the same sort. I had plenty of time to see my
dilemma. Either I would have to abandon my attempt to keep the men
busy, or I would have to invoke the authority of Captain Selover. To
do the latter would be to destroy it. The master had become a stuffed
figure, a bogie with which to frighten, an empty bladder that a prick
would collapse. With what grace I could muster, I had to give in.
"You'll have to have it your own way, I suppose," I snapped.
Thrackles grinned, and Pulz started to say something, but Handy
Solomon, with a peremptory gesture, and a black scowl, stopped him
"Now that's what I calls right proper and handsome!" he cried
admiringly. "We reely had no right to expect that, boys, as seamen,
from our first officer! You can kiss the Book on it, that very few
crews have such kind masters. Mr. Eagen has the right, and we signed
to it all straight, to work us as he pleases; and w'at does he do?
Why, he up and gives us a week shore leave, and then he gives us light
watches, and all the time our pay goes on just the same. Now that's
w'at I calls right proper and handsome conduct, or the devil's a
preacher, and I ventures with all respect to propose three cheers for
They gave them, grinning broadly. The villain stood looking at me,
a sardonic gleam in the back of his eye. Then he gave a little hitch
to his red head covering, and sauntered away humming between his teeth.
I stood watching him, choked with rage and indecision. The humming
broke into words.
  "'Oh, quarter, oh, quarter!' the jolly pirates cried.
     _Blow high, blow low! What care we_?
  But the quarter that we gave them was to sink them in the sea,
     _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e_."
"Here, you swab," he cried to Thrackles, "and you, Pancho! get some
wood, lively! And Pulz, bring us a pail of water. Doctor, let's have
duff to celebrate on."
The men fell to work with alacrity.
THE CORROSIVE
That evening I smoked in a splendid isolation while the men whispered
apart. I had nothing to do but smoke, and to chew my cud, which was
bitter. There could be no doubt, however I may have saved my face,
that command had been taken from me by that rascal, Handy Solomon.
I was in two minds as to whether or not I should attempt to warn Darrow
or the doctor. Yet what could I say? and against whom should I warn
them? The men had grumbled, as men always do grumble in idleness, and
had perhaps talked a little wildly; but that was nothing.
The only indisputable fact I could adduce was that I had allowed my
authority to slip through my fingers. And adequately to excuse that,
I should have to confess that I was a writer and no handler of men.
I abandoned the unpleasant train of thought with a snort of disgust,
but it had led me to another. In the joy and uncertainty of living
I had practically lost sight of the reason for my coming. With me it
had always been more the adventure than the story; my writing was a
by-product, a utilisation of what life offered me. I had set sail
possessed by the sole idea of ferreting out Dr. Schermerhorn's
investigations, but the gradual development of affairs had ended by
absorbing my every faculty. Now, cast into an eddy by my change of
fortunes, the original idea regained its force. I was out of the
active government of affairs, with leisure on my hands, and my
thoughts naturally turned with curiosity again to the laboratory in
Darrow's "devil fires" were again painting the sky. I had noticed them
from time to time, always with increasing wonder. The men accepted
them easily as only one of the unexplained phenomena of a sailor's
experience, but I had not as yet hit on a hypothesis that suited me.
They were not allied to the aurora; they differed radically from the
ordinary volcanic emanations; and scarcely resembled any electrical
displays I had ever seen. The night was cool; the stars bright: I
resolved to investigate.
Without further delay I arose to my feet and set off into the
darkness. Immediately one of the group detached himself from the fire
and joined me.
"Going for a little walk, sir?" asked Handy Solomon sweetly. "That's
quite right and proper. Nothin' like a little walk to get you fit and
right for your bunk."
He held close to my elbow. We got just as far as the stockade in the
bed of the arroyo. The lights we could make out now across the zenith;
but owing to the precipitance of the cliffs, and the rise of the
arroyo bed, it was impossible to see more. Handy Solomon felt the
defences carefully.
"A man would think, sir, it was a cannibal island," he observed. "All
so tight and tidy-like here. It would take a ship's guns to batter
her down. A man might dig under these here two gate logs, if no one
was against him. Like to try it, sir?"
"No," I answered gruffly.
From that time on I was virtually a prisoner; yet so carefully was
my surveillance accomplished that I could place my finger on nothing
definite. Someone always accompanied me on my walks; and in the
evening I was herded as closely as any cattle.
Handy Solomon took the direction of affairs off my hands. You may be
sure he set no very heavy tasks. The men cut a little wood, carried
up a few pails of water--that was all.
Lacking incentive to stir about, they came to spend most of their time
lying on their backs watching the sky. This in turn bred a languor
which is the sickest, most soul- and temper-destroying affair invented
by the devil. They could not muster up energy enough to walk down the
beach and back, and yet they were wearied to death of the inaction.
After a little they became irritable toward one another. Each
suspected the other of doing less than he should. You who know men
will realise what this meant.
The atmosphere of our camp became surly. I recognised the precursor
of its becoming dangerous. One day on a walk in the hills I came on
Thrackles and Pulz lying on their stomachs gazing down fixedly at Dr.
Schermerhorn's camp. This was nothing extraordinary, but they started
guiltily to their feet when they saw me, and made off, growling under
their breaths.
All this that I have told you so briefly, took time. It was the eating
through of men's spirits by that worst of corrosives, idleness. I
conceive it unnecessary to weary you with the details----
The situation was as yet uneasy but not alarming. One evening I
overheard the beginning of an absurd plot to gain entrance to the
Valley--that was as far as detail went. I became convinced at last
that I should in some way warn Percy Darrow.
That seems a simple enough proposition, does it not? But if you will
stop to think one moment of the difficulties of my position, you will
see that it was not as easy as at first it appears. Darrow still
visited us in the evening. The men never allowed me even the chance
of private communication while he was with us. One or two took pains
to stretch out between us. Twice I arose when the assistant did, resolved
to accompany him part way back. Both times men resolutely escorted
us, and as resolutely separated us from the opportunity of a single
word apart. The crew never threatened me by word or look. But we understood
I was not permitted to row out to the _Laughing Lass_ without
escort. Therefore I never attempted to visit her again. The men were
not anxious to do so, their awe of the captain made them only too glad
to escape his notice. That empty shell of a past reputation was my
only hope. It shielded the arms and ammunition.
As I look back on it now, the period seems to me to be one of merely
potential trouble. The men had not taken the pains to crystallise
their ideas. I really think their compelling emotion was that of
curiosity. They wanted to _see_. It needed a definite impulse
to change that desire to one of greed.
The impulse came from Percy Darrow and his idle talk of voodoos. As
usual he was directing his remarks to the sullen Nigger.
"Voodoos?" he said. "Of course there are. Don't fool yourself for a
minute on that. There are good ones and bad ones. You can tame them
if you know how, and they will do anything you want them to." Pulz
chuckled in his throat. "You don't believe it?" drawled the assistant
turning to him. "Well, it's so. You know that heavy box we are so
careful of? Well, that's got a tame voodoo in it."
The others laughed.
"What he like?" asked the Nigger gravely.
"He's a fine voodoo, with wavery arms and green eyes, and red glows."
Watching narrowly its effect he swung off into one of the genuine old
crooning voodoo songs, once so common down South, now so rarely heard.
No one knows what the words mean--they are generally held to be
charm-words only--a magic gibberish. But the Nigger sprang across the
fire like lightning, his face altered by terror, to seize Darrow by
the shoulders.
"Doan you! Doan you!" he gasped, shaking the assistant violently back
and forth. "Dat he King Voodoo song! Dat call him all de voodoo--all!"
He stared wildly about in the darkness as though expecting to see the
night thronged. There was a moment of confusion. Eager for any chance
I hissed under my breath; "Danger! Look out!"
I could not tell whether or not Darrow heard me. He left soon after.
The mention of the chest had focussed the men's interest.
"Well," Pulz began, "we've been here on this spot o' hell for a long
"A year and five months," reckoned Thrackles.
"A man can do a lot in that time."
"If he's busy."
"They've been busy."
"Wonder what they've done?"
There was no answer to this, and the sea lawyer took a new tack.
"I suppose we're all getting double wages."
"That's so."
"And that's say four hunder' for us and Mr. Eagen here. I suppose the
Old Man don't let the schooner go for nothing."
"Two hundred and fifty a month," said I, and then would have had the
They cried out in prolonged astonishment.
"Seventeen months," pursued the logician after a few moments. He
scratched with a stub of lead. "That makes over eleven thousand
dollars since we've been out. How much do you suppose his outfit
stands him?" he appealed to me.
"I'm sure I can't tell you," I replied shortly.
"Well, it's a pile of money, anyway."
Nobody said anything for some time.
"Wonder what they've done?" Pulz asked again.
"Something that pays big." Thrackles supplied the desired answer.
"Dat chis'----" suggested Perdosa.
"Voodoo----" muttered the Nigger.
"That's to scare us out," said Handy Solomon, with vast contempt.
"That's what makes me sure it _is_ the chest."
Pulz muttered some of the jargon of alchemy.
"That's it," approved Handy Solomon. "If we could get----"
"We wouldn't know how to use it," interrupted Pulz.
"The book----" said Thrackles.
"Well, the book----" asserted Pulz pugnaciously.
"How do you know what it will be? It may be the Philosopher's Stone
and it may be one of these other damn things. And then where'd we be?"
It was astounding to hear this nonsense bandied about so seriously.
And yet they more than half believed, for they were deep-sea men of
the old school, and this was in print. Thrackles voiced approximately
the general attitude.
"Philosopher's stone or not, something's up. The old boy took too good
care of that box, and he's spending too much money, and he's got hold
of too much hell afloat to be doing it for his health."
"You know w'at I t'ink?" smiled Perdosa. "He mak' di'mon's. He
The Nigger had entered one of his black, brooding moods from which
these men expected oracles.
"Get him ches'," he muttered. "I see him full--full of di'mon's!"
They listened to him with vast respect, and were visibly impressed.
So deep was the sense of awe that Handy Solomon unbent enough to whisper
"I don't take any stock in the Nigger's talk _ordinarily_. He's
a hell of a fool nigger. But when his eye looks like that, then you
want to listen close. He sees things then. Lots of times he's seen
things. Even last year--the _Oyama_--he told about her three days
ahead. That's why we were so ready for her," he chuckled.
Nothing more developed for a long time except a savage fight between
Pulz and Perdosa. I hunted sheep, fished, wandered about--always with
an escort tired to death before he started. The thought came to me
to kill this man and so to escape and make cause with the scientists.
My common sense forbade me. I begin to think that common sense is a
very foolish faculty indeed.
It taught me the obvious--that all this idle, vapouring talk was
common enough among men of this class, so common that it would hardly
justify a murder, would hardly explain an unwarranted intrusion on
those who employed me. How would it look for me to go to them with
these words in my mouth:
"The captain has taken to drinking to dull the monotony. The crew
think you are an alchemist and are making diamonds. Their interest
in this fact seemed to me excessive, so I killed one of them, and here
"And who are you?" they could ask.
"I am a reporter," would be my only truthful reply.
You can see the false difficulties of my position. I do not defend
my attitude. Undoubtedly a born leader of men, like Captain Selover
at his best, would have known how to act with the proper decision both
now and in the inception of the first mutiny. At heart I never doubted
the reality of the crisis.
Even Percy Darrow saw the surliness of the men's attitudes, and with
his usual good sense divined the cause.
"You chaps are getting lazy," said he, "why don't you do something?
Where's the captain?"
They growled something about there being nothing to do, and explained
that the captain preferred to live aboard.
"Don't blame him," said Darrow, "but he might give us a little of his
squeaky company occasionally. Boys, I'll tell you something about
seals. The old bull seals have long, stiff whiskers--a foot long. Do
you know there's a market for those whiskers? Well, there is. The
Chinese mount them in gold and use them for cleaners for their long
pipes. Each whisker is worth from six bits to a dollar and a quarter.
Why don't you kill a few bull seal for the 'trimmings'?"
"Nothin' to do with a voodoo?" grunted Handy Solomon.
Darrow laughed amusedly. "No, this is the truth," he assured. "I'll
tell you what: I'll give you boys six bits apiece for the whisker
hairs, and four bits for the galls. I expect to sell them at a
Next morning they shook off their lethargy and went seal-hunting.
I was practically commanded to attend. This attitude had been growing
of late: now it began to take a definite form.
"Mr. Eagan, don't you want to go hunting?" or "Mr. Eagen, I guess I'll
just go along with you to stretch my legs," had given way to, "We're
going fishing: you'd better come along."
I had known for a long time that I had lost any real control of them;
and that perhaps humiliated me a little. However, my inexperience at
handling such men, and the anomalous character of my position to some
extent consoled me. In the filaments brushed across the face of my
understanding I could discover none so strong as to support an overt
act on my part. I cannot doubt, that had the affair come to a focus,
I should have warned the scientists even at the risk of my life. In
fact, as I shall have occasion to show you, I did my best. But at the
moment, in all policy I could see my way to little besides
acquiescence.
We killed seals by sequestrating the bulls, surrounding them, and
clubbing them at a certain point of the forehead. It was surprising
to see how hard they fought, and how quickly they succumbed to a blow
properly directed. Then we stripped the mask with its bristle of long
whiskers, took the gall, and dragged the carcass into the surf where
it was devoured by fish. At first the men, pleased by the novelty,
stripped the skins. The blubber, often two or three inches in
thickness, had then to be cut away from the pelt, cube by cube. It
was a long, an oily, and odoriferous job. We stunk mightily of seal
oil; our garments were shiny with it, the very pores of our skins seemed
to ooze it. And even after the pelt was fairly well cleared, it had
still to be tanned. Percy Darrow suggested the method, but the process
was long, and generally unsatisfactory. With the acquisition of the
fifth greasy, heavy, and ill-smelling piece of fur the men's interest
in peltries waned. They confined themselves in all strictness to the
"trimmings."
Percy Darrow showed us how to clean the whiskers. The process was
evil. The masks were, quite simply, to be advanced so far in the way
of putrefaction that the bristles would part readily from their
sockets. The first batch the men hung out on a line. A few moments
later we heard a mighty squawking, and rushed out to find the island
ravens making off with the entire catch. Protection of netting had
to be rigged. We caught seals for a month or so. There was novelty
in it, and it satisfied the lust for killing. As time went on, the
bulls grew warier. Then we made expeditions to outlying rocks.
Later Handy Solomon approached me on another diplomatic errand.
"The seals is getting shy, sir," said he.
"They are," said I.
"The only way to do is to shoot them," said he.
"Quite like," I agreed.
A pause ensued.
"We've got no cartridges," he insinuated.
"And you've taken charge of my rifle," I pointed out.
"Oh, not a bit, sir," he cried. "Thrackles, he just took it to clean
it--you can have it whenever you want it, sir."
"I have no cartridges--as you have observed," said I.
"There's plenty aboard," he suggested.
"And they're in very good hands there," said I.
He ruminated a moment, polishing the steel of his hook against the
other arm of his shirt. Suddenly he looked up at me with a humorous
"You're afraid of us!" he accused.
I was silent, not knowing just how to meet so direct an attack.
"No need to be," he continued.
I said nothing.
He looked at me shrewdly; then stood off on another tack.
"Well, sir, I didn't mean just that. I didn't mean you was really
scared of us. But we're gettin' to know each other, livin' here on
this old island, brothers-like. There ain't no officers and men
ashore--is there, now, sir? When we gets back to the old _Laughing
Lass_, then we drops back into our dooty again all right and
proper. You can kiss the Book on that. Old Scrubs, he knows that. He
don't want no shore in his. _He_ knows enough to stay aboard,
where we'd all rather be."
He stopped abruptly, spat, and looked at me. I wondered whither this
devious diplomacy led us.
"Still, in one way, an officer's an officer, and a seaman's a seaman,
thinks you, and discipline must be held up among mates ashore or
afloat, thinks you. Quite proper, sir. And I can see you think that
the arms is for the afterguard except in case of trouble. Quite
proper. You can do the shooting, and you can keep the cartridges
always by you. Just for discipline, sir."
The man's boldness in so fully arming me was astonishing, and his
carelessness in allowing me aboard with Captain Selover astonished
me still more. Nevertheless I promised to go for the desired cartridges,
fully resolved to make an appeal.
A further consideration of the elements of the game convinced me,
however, of the fellow's shrewdness. It was no more dangerous to allow
me a rifle--under direct surveillance--for the purposes of hunting,
than to leave me my sawed--off revolver, which I still retained. The
arguments he had used against my shooting Perdosa were quite as cogent
now. As to the second point, I, finding the sun unexpectedly strong,
returned from the cove for my hat, and so overheard the following
between Thrackles and his leader:
"What's to keep him from staying aboard?" cried Thrackles, protesting.
"Well, he might," acknowledged Handy Solomon, "and then are we the
worse off? You ain't going to make a boat attack against Old Scrubs,
Thrackles hesitated.
"You can kiss the Book on it, you ain't," went on Handy Solomon
easily, "nor me, nor Pulz, nor the Greaser, nor the Nigger, nor none
of us all together. We've had our dose of that. Well, if he goes
aboard and _stays_, where are we the worse off? I asks you that.
But he won't. This is w'ats goin' to happen. Says he to Old Scrubs,
'Sir, the men needs you to bash in their heads.' 'Bash 'em in
yourself,' says he, 'that's w'at you're for.' And if he should come
ashore, w'at could he do? I asks you that. We ain't disobeyed no
orders dooly delivered. We're ready to pull halliards at the word.
No, let him go aboard, and if he peaches to the Old Man, why all the
better, for it just gets the Old Man down on him."
"How about Old Scrubs----"
"Don't you believe none in luck?" asked Handy Solomon. "Aye."
"Well, so do I, with w'at that law-crimp used to call joodicious
assistance."
I rowed out to the _Laughing Lass_ very thoughtful, and a little
shaken by the plausible argument. Captain Selover was lying dead drunk
across the cabin table. I did my best to waken him, but failed, took
a score of cartridges--no more--and departed sadly. Nothing could be
gained by staying aboard; every chance might be lost. Besides, an
opening to escape in the direction of the laboratory might offer--I,
as well as they, believed in luck judiciously assisted.
In the ensuing days I learned much of the habits of seals. We sneaked
along the cliff tops until over the rookeries; then lay flat on our
stomachs and peered cautiously down on our quarry. The seals had
become very wary. A slight jar, the fall of a pebble, sometimes even
sounds unnoticed by ourselves, were enough to send them into the
water. There they lined up just outside the surf, their sleek heads
glossy with the wet, their calm, soft eyes fixed unblinkingly on us.
It was useless to shoot them in the water: they sank at once.
When, however, we succeeded in gaining an advantageous position, it
was necessary to shoot with extreme accuracy. A bullet directly
through the back of the head would kill cleanly. A hit anywhere else
was practically useless, for even in death the animals seemed to
retain enough blind instinctive vitality to flop them into the water.
There they were lost.
Each rookery consisted of one tremendous bull who officiated
apparently as the standing army; a number of smaller bulls, his direct
descendants; the cows, and the pups. The big bull held his position
by force of arms. Occasionally other, unattached, bulls would come
swimming by. On arriving opposite the rookery the stranger would utter
a peculiar challenge. It was never refused by the resident champion,
who promptly slid into the sea, and engaged battle. If he conquered,
the stranger went on his way. If, however, the stranger won, the big
bull immediately struck out to sea, abandoning his rookery, while the
new-comer swam in and attempted to make his title good with all the
younger bulls. I have seen some fierce combats out there in the blue
water. They gashed each other deep----
You can see by this how our hunting was never at an end. On Tuesday
we would kill the boss bull of a certain establishment. By Thursday,
at latest, another would be installed.
I learned curious facts about seals in those days. The hunting did
not appeal to me particularly, because it seemed to me useless to kill
so large an animal for so small a spoil. Still, it was a means to my
all-absorbing end, and I confess that the stalking, the lying belly
down on the sun-warmed grass over the surge and under the clear sky,
was extremely pleasant. While awaiting the return of the big bull often
we had opportunity to watch the others at their daily affairs, and
even the unresponsive Thrackles was struck with their almost human
intelligence. Did you know that seals kiss each other, and weep tears
when grieved?
The men often discussed among themselves the narrow, dry cave. There
the animals were practically penned in. They agreed that a great
killing could be made there, but the impossibility of distinguishing
between the bulls and the cows deterred them. The cave was quite dark.
Immerced in our own affairs thus, the days, weeks, and months went
by. Events had slipped beyond my control. I had embarked on a journalistic
enterprise, and now that purpose was entirely out of my reach.
Up the valley Dr. Schermerhorn and his assistant were engaged in some
experiment of whose very nature I was still ignorant. Also I was
likely to remain so. The precautions taken against interference by
the men were equally effective against me. As if that were not enough,
any move of investigation on my part would be radically misinterpreted,
and to my own danger, by the men. I might as well have been in London.
However, as to my first purpose in this adventure I had evolved
another plan, and therefore was content. I made up my mind that on
the voyage home, if nothing prevented, I would tell my story to Percy
Darrow, and throw myself on his mercy. The results of the experiment
would probably by then be ready for the public, and there was no
reason, as far as I could see, why I should not get the "scoop" at
Certainly my sincerity would be without question; and I hoped that
two years or more of service such as I had rendered would tickle Dr.
Schermerhorn's sense of his own importance. So adequate did this plan
seem, that I gave up thought on the subject.
My whole life now lay on the shores. I was not again permitted to
board the _Laughing Lass_. Captain Selover I saw twice at a
distance. Both times he seemed to be rather uncertain. The men did
not remark it. The days went by. I relapsed into that state so well
known to you all, when one seems caught in the meshes of a dream existence
which has had no beginning and which is destined never to have an end.
We were to hunt seals, and fish, and pry bivalves from the rocks at
low tide, and build fires, and talk, and alternate between suspicion
and security, between the danger of sedition and the insanity of men
without defined purpose, world without end forever.
"OLD SCRUBS" COMES ASHORE
The inevitable happened. One noon Pulz looked up from his labour of
pulling the whiskers from the evil-smelling masks.
"How many of these damn things we got?" he inquired.
"About three hunder' and fifty," Thrackles replied.
"Well, we've got enough for me. I'm sick of this job. It stinks."
They looked at each other. I could see the disgust rising in their
eyes, the reek of rotten blubber expanding their nostrils. With one
accord they cast aside the masks.
"It ain't such a hell of a fortune," growled Pulz, his evil little
white face thrust forward. "There's other things worth all the seal
trimmin's of the islands."
"Diamon's," gloomed the Nigger.
"You've hit it, Doctor," cut in Solomon.
There we were again, back to the old difficulty, only worse. Idleness
descended on us again. We grew touchy on little things, as a misplaced
plate, a shortage of firewood, too deep a draught at the nearly empty
bucket. The noise of bickering became as constant as the noise of the
surf. If we valued peace, we kept our mouths shut. The way a man spat,
or ate, or slept, or even breathed became a cause of irritation to
every other member of the company. We stood the outrage as long as
we could; then we objected in a wild and ridiculous explosion which
communicated its heat to the object of our wrath. Then there was a
fight. It needed only liquor to complete the deplorable state of
Gradually the smaller things came to worry us more and more. A certain
harmless singer of the cricket or perhaps of the tree-toad variety
used to chirp his innocent note a short distance from our cabin. For
all I know he had done so from the moment of our installation, but
I had never noticed him before. Now I caught myself listening for his
irregular recurrence with every nerve on the quiver. If he delayed
by ever so little, it was an agony; yet when he did pipe up, his feeble
strain struck to my heart cold and paralysing like a dagger. And with
every advancing minute of the night I became broader awake, more
tense, fairly sweating with nervousness. One night--good God, was it
only last week? ... it seems ages ago, another existence ... a state
cut off from this by the wonder of a transmigration, at least ... Last
I did not sleep at all. The moon had risen, had mounted the heavens,
and now was sailing overhead. By the fretwork of its radiance through
the chinks of our rudely-built cabin I had marked off the hours. A
thunderstorm rumbled and flashed, hull down over the horizon. It was
many miles distant, and yet I do not doubt that its electrical
influence had dried the moisture of our equanimity, leaving us
rattling husks for the winds of destiny to play upon. Certainly I can
remember no other time, in a rather wide experience, when I have felt
myself more on edge, more choked with the restless, purposeless
nervous energy that leaves a man's tongue parched and his eyes
staring. And still that infernal cricket, or whatever it was, chirped.
I had thought myself alone in my vigil, but when finally I could stand
it no longer, and kicked aside my covering with an oath of protest,
I was surprised to hear it echoed from all about me.
"Damn that cricket!" I cried.
And the dead shadows stirred from the bunks, and the hollow-eyed
victims of insomnia crept out to curse their tormentor. We organised
an expedition to hunt him down. It was ridiculous enough, six strong
men prowling for the life of one poor little insect. We did not find
him, however, though we succeeded in silencing him. But no sooner were
we back in our bunks than he began it again, and such was the turmoil
of our nerves that day found us sitting wan about a fire, hugging our
We were so genuinely emptied, not so much by the cricket as by the
two years of fermentation, that not one of us stirred toward breakfast,
in fact not one of us moved from the listless attitude in which day
found him, until after nine o'clock. Then we pulled ourselves together
and cooked coffee and salt horse. As a significant fact, the Nigger
left the dishes unwashed, and no one cared.
Handy Solomon finally shook himself and arose.
"I'm sick of this," said he, "I'm goin' seal-hunting."
They arose without a word. They were sick of it, too, sick to death.
We were a silent, gloomy crew indeed as we thrust the surf boat
afloat, clambered in, and shipped the oars. No one spoke a word; no
one had a comment to make, even when we saw the rookery slide into
the water while we were still fifty yards from the beach. We pulled
back slowly along the coast. Beyond the rock we made out the entrance
to the dry cave.
"There's seal in there," cried Handy Solomon, "lots of 'em!"
He thrust the rudder over, and we headed for the cave. No one
expressed an opinion.
As it was again high tide, we rowed in to the steep shore inside the
cave's mouth and beached the boat. The place was full of seals; we
could hear them bellowing.
"Two of you stand here," shouted Handy Solomon, "and take them as they
go out. We'll go in and scare 'em down to you."
"They'll run over us," screamed Pulz.
"No, they won't. You can dodge up the sides when they go by."
This was indeed well possible, so we gripped our clubs and ventured
into the darkness.
We advanced four abreast, for the cave was wide enough for that. As
we penetrated, the bellowing and barking became more deafening.
It was impossible to see anything, although we _felt_ an
indistinguishable tumbling mass receding before our footsteps.
Thrackles swore violently as he stumbled over a laggard. With uncanny
abruptness the black wall of darkness in front of us was alive with
fiery eyeballs. The seals had reached the end of the cave and had
turned toward us. We, too, stopped, a little uncertain as to how to
The first plan had been to get behind the band and to drive it slowly
toward the entrance to the cave. This was now seen to be impossible.
The cavern was too narrow; its sides at this point too steep, and the
animals too thickly congested. Our eyes, becoming accustomed to the
twilight, now began to make out dimly the individual bodies of the
seals and the general configuration of the rocks. One big boulder lay
directly in our path, like an island in the shale of the cave's floor.
Perdosa stepped to the top of it for a better look. The men attempted
to communicate their ideas of what was to be done, but could not make
themselves heard above the uproar. I could see their faces contorting
with the fury of being baffled. A big bull made a dash to get by; all
the herd flippered after him. If he had won past they would have
followed as obstinately as sheep, and nothing could have stopped them,
but the big bull went down beneath the clubs. Thrackles hit the animal
two vindictive blows after it had succumbed.
This settled the revolt, and we stood as before. Pulz and Handy
Solomon tried to converse by signs, but evidently failed, for their
faces showed angry in the twilight. Perdosa, on his rock, rolled and
lit a cigarette. Thrackles paced to and fro, and the Nigger leaned
on his club, farther down the cave. They had been left at the entrance,
but now in lack of results had joined their companions.
Now Thrackles approached and screamed himself black trying to impart
some plan. He failed; but stooped and picked up a stone and threw it
into the mass of seals. The others understood. A shower of stones
followed. The animals milled like cattle, bellowed the louder, but
would not face their tormentors. Finally an old cow flopped by in a
panic. I thought they would have let her go, but she died a little
beyond the bull. No more followed, although the men threw stones as
fast and hard as they were able. Their faces were livid with anger,
like that of an evil-tempered man with an obstinate horse.
Suddenly Handy Solomon put his head down, and with a roar distinctly
audible even above the din that filled the cave, charged directly into
the herd. I saw the beasts cringe before him; I saw his club rising
and falling indiscriminately; and then the whole back of the cave
seemed to rise and come at us.
This was no chance of sport now, but a struggle for very life. We
realised that once down there would be no hope, for while the seals
were more anxious to escape than to fight, we knew that their jaws
were powerful. There was no time to pick and choose. We hit out with
all the strength and quickness we possessed. It was like a bad dream,
like struggling with an elusive hydra-headed monster, knee high,
invulnerable. We hit, but without apparent effect. New heads rose,
the press behind increased. We gave ground. We staggered, struggling
desperately to keep our feet.
How long this lasted I cannot tell. It seemed hours. I know my arms
became leaden from swinging my club; my eyes were full of sweat; my
breath gasped. A sharp pain in my knee nearly doubled me to the ground
and yet I remember clamping to the thought that I must keep my feet,
keep my feet at any cost. Then all at once I recalled the fact that
I was armed. I jerked out the short-barrelled Colt's 45 and turned
it loose in their faces.
Whether the flash and detonation frightened them; whether Perdosa,
still clinging to his rock, managed to turn their attention by his
flanking efforts, or whether, quite simply, the wall of dead finally
turned them back, I do not know, but with one accord they gave over
the attempt.
I looked at once for Handy Solomon, and was surprised to see him still
alive, standing upright on a ledge the other side of the herd. His
clothing was literally torn to shreds, and he was covered with blood.
But in this plight he was not alone, for when I turned toward my
companions they, too, were tattered, torn, and gory. We were a
dreadful crew, standing there in the half-light, our chests heaving,
our rags dripping red.
For perhaps ten seconds no one moved. Then with a yell of demoniac
rage my companions clambered over the rampart of dead seals and
attacked the herd.
The seals were now cowed and defenceless. It was a slaughter, and the
most debauching and brutal I have ever known. I had hit out with the
rest when it had been a question of defence, but from this I turned
aside in a sick loathing. The men seemed possessed of devils, and of
their unnatural energy. Perdosa cast aside the club and took to his
natural weapon, the knife.
I can see him yet rolling over and over embracing a big cow, his head
jammed in an ecstasy of ferocity between the animal's front flippers,
his legs clasped to hold her body, only his right arm rising and
falling as he plunged his knife again and again. She struggled,
turning him over and under, wept great tears, and fairly whined with
terror and pain. Finally she was still, and Perdosa staggered to his
feet, only to stare about him drunkenly for a moment before throwing
himself with a screech on another victim.
The Nigger alone did not jump into the turmoil. He stood just down
the cave, his club ready. Occasionally a disorganised rush to escape
would be made. The Nigger's lips snarled, and with a truly mad enjoyment
he beat the poor animals back.
I pressed against the wall horrified, fascinated, unable either to
interfere or to leave. A close, sticky smell took possession of the
air. After a little a tiny stream, growing each moment, began to flow
past my feet. It sought its channel daintily, as streamlets do,
feeling among the stones in eddies, quiet pools, miniature falls, and
rapids. For the moment I did not realise what it could be. Then the
light caught it down where the Nigger waited, and I saw it was red.
At first the racket of the seals was overpowering. Now, gradually,
it was losing volume. I began to hear the blasphemies, ferocious cries,
screams of anger hurled against the cave walls by the men. The thick,
sticky smell grew stronger; the light seemed to grow dimmer, as though
it could not burn in that fetid air. A seal came and looked up at me,
big tears rolling from her eyes; then she flippered aimlessly away,
out of her poor wits with terror. The sight finished me. I staggered
down the length of the black tunnel to the boat.
After a long interval a little three months' pup waddled down to the
water's edge, caught sight of me, and with a squeal of fright dived
far. Poor little devil! I would not have hurt him for worlds. As far
as I know this was the only survivor of all that herd.
The men soon appeared, one by one, tired, sleepy-eyed, glutted,
walking in a cat-like trance of satiety. They were blood and tatters
from head to foot, and from drying red masks peered their bloodshot
eyes. Not a word said they, but tumbled into the boat, pushed off,
and in a moment we were floating in the full sunshine again. We rowed
home in an abstraction. For the moment Berserker rage had burned itself
out. Handy Solomon continually wetted his lips, like an animal licking
its chops. Thrackles stared into space through eyes drugged with
killing. No one spoke.
We landed in the cove, and were surprised to find it in shadow. The
afternoon was far advanced. Over the hill we dragged ourselves, and
down to the spring. There the men threw themselves flat and drank in
great gulps until they could drink no more. We built a fire, but the
Nigger refused to cook.
"Someone else turn," he growled, "I cook aboard ship."
Perdosa, who had hewed the fuel, at once became angry.
"I cut heem de wood!" he said, "I do my share; eef I cut heem de wood
you mus' cook heem de grub!"
But the Nigger shook his head, and Perdosa went into an ecstasy of
rage. He kicked the fire to pieces; he scattered the unburned wood
up and down the beach; he even threw some of it into the sea.
"Eef you no cook heem de grub, you no hab my wood!" he shrieked, with
enough oaths to sink his soul.
Finally Pulz interfered.
"Here you damn foreigners," said he, "quit it! Let up, I say! We got
to eat. You let that wood alone, or you'll pick it up again!"
Perdosa sprang at him with a screech. Pulz was small but nimble, and
understood rough and tumble fighting. He met Perdosa's rush with two
swift blows--a short arm jab and an upper-cut. Then they clinched,
and in a moment were rolling over and over just beyond the wash of
The row waked the Nigger from his sullen abstraction. He seemed to
come to himself with a start; his eye fell surprisedly on the
combatants, then lit up with an unholy joy. He drew his knife and
crept down on the fighters. It was too good an opportunity to pay off
the Mexican.
But Thrackles interfered sharply.
"Come off!" he commanded. "None o' that!"
"Go to hell!" growled the Nigger.
A great rage fell on them all, blind and terrible, like that leading
to the slaughter of the seals. They fought indiscriminately, hitting
at each other with fists and knives. It was difficult to tell who was
against whom. The sound of heavy breathing, dull blows, the tear of
cloth; and grunts of punishment received; the swirl of the sand, the
heave of struggling bodies, all riveted my attention, so that I did
not see Captain Ezra Selover until he stood almost at my elbow.
"Stop!" he shrieked in his high, falsetto voice.
And would you believe it, even through the blood haze of their combat
the men heard him, and heeded. They drew reluctantly apart, got to
their feet, stood looking at him through reeking brows half submissive
and half defiant. The bull-headed Thrackles even took a half step
forward, but froze in his tracks when Old Scrubs looked at him.
"I hire you men to fight when I tell you to, and only then," said the
captain sternly. "What does this mean?"
He menaced them one after another with his eyes, and one after another
they quailed. All their plottings, their threats, their dangerousness
dissipated like mist before the command of this one resolute man.
These pirates who had seemed so dreadful to me, now were nothing more
than cringing schoolboys before their master.
And then suddenly to my horror I, watching closely, saw the captain's
eye turn blank. I am sure the men must have felt the change, though
certainly they were too far away to see it, for they shifted by ever
so little from their first frozen attitude. The captain's hand sought
his pocket, and they froze again, but instead of the expected
revolver, he produced a half-full brandy bottle.
The change in his eyes had crept into his features. They had turned
foolishly amiable, vacant, confiding.
"'llo boys," said he appealingly, "you good fellowsh, ain't you? Have
a drink. 'S good stuff. Good ol' bottl'," he lurched, caught himself,
and advanced toward them, still with the empty smile.
They stared at him for ten seconds, quite at a loss. Then:
"By God, he's drunk!" Handy Solomon breathed, scarcely louder than
There was no other signal given. They sprang as with a single impulse.
One instant I saw clear against the waning daylight the bulky,
foolish-swaying form of Captain Selover: the next it had disappeared,
carried down and obliterated by the rush of attacking bodies. Knives
gleamed ruddy in the sunset. There was no struggle. I heard a deep
groan. Then the murderers rose slowly to their feet.
I MAKE MY ESCAPE
I had plenty of time to run away. I do not know why I did not do so;
but the fact stands that I remained where I was until they had
finished Captain Selover. Then I took to my heels, but was soon
cornered. I drew my revolver, remembered that I had emptied it in the
seal cave--and had time for no more coherent mental processes. A
smothering weight flung itself on me, against which I struggled as
hard as I could, shrinking in anticipation from the thirsty plunge
of the knives. However, though the weight increased until further
struggle was impossible, I was not harmed, and in a few moments found
myself, wrists and ankles tied, beside a roaring fire. While I
collected myself I heard the grate of a boat being shoved off from
the cove, and a few moments later made out lights aboard the _Laughing
The looting party returned very shortly. Their plundering had gone
only as far as liquor and arms. Thrackles let down from the cliff top
a keg at the end of a line. Perdosa and the Nigger each carried an
armful of the 30-40 rifles. The keg was rolled to the fire and
The men got drunk, wildly drunk, but not helplessly so. A flame
communicated itself to them through the liquor. The ordinary
characteristics of their composition sprung into sharper relief. The
Nigger became more sullen; Perdosa more snake-like; Pulz more
viciously evil; Thrackles more brutal; while Handy Solomon staggering
from his seat to the open keg and back again, roaring fragments of
a chanty, his red headgear contrasting with his smoky black hair and
his swarthy hook-nosed countenance--he needed no further touch.
Their evil passions were all awake, and the plan, so long indefinite,
developed like a photographer's plate.
"That's one," said Thrackles. "One gone to hell."
"And now the diamonds," muttered Pulz.
  "There's a ship upon the windward, a wreck upon the lee,
      _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e_,"
roared Handy Solomon. "Damn it all, boys, it's the best night's work
we ever did. The stuff's ours. Then it's me for a big stone house in
"Frisco, hell," sneered Pulz, "that's all you know. You ought to
travel. Paris for me and a little gal to learn the language from."
"I get heem a fine _caballo_, an' fine saddle, an' fine clo's,"
breathed Perdosa sentimentally. "I ride, and the silver jingle, and
the _senorita_ look----"
Thrackles was for a ship and the China trade.
"What you want, Doctor?" they demanded of the silent Nigger.
But the Nigger only rolled his eyes and shook his head. By and by he
arose and disappeared in the dusk and was no more seen.
"Dam' fool," muttered Handy Solomon. "Well, here's to crime!"
He drank a deep cup of the raw rum, and staggered back to his seat
on the sands.
  "'I am not a man-o'-war, nor a privateer,' said he.
      _Blow high, blow low! What care we_!
  'But I am a jolly pirate and I'm sailing for my fee,'
      _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e_."
he sang. "We'll land in Valparaiso and we'll go every man his way;
and we'll sink the old _Laughing Lass_ so deep the mermaids can't
Thrackles piled on more wood and the fire leaped high.
"Let's get after 'em,' said he.
"To-morrow's jes' 's good," muttered Pulz. "Les' hav' 'nother drink."
"We'll stay here 'n see if our ol' frien' Percy don' show up," said
Handy Solomon. He threw back his head and roared forth a volume of
sound toward the dim stars.
  "Broadside to broadside the gallant ships did lay,
      _Blow high, blow low! What care we_?
  'Til the jolly man-o'-war shot the pirate's mast away,
      _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e_."
I saw near me a live coal dislodged from the fire when Thrackles had
thrown on the armful of wood. An idea came to me. I hitched myself
to the spark, and laid across it the rope with which my wrists were
tied. This, behind my back, was not easy to accomplish, and twice I
burned my wrists before I succeeded.
Fortunately I was at the edge of illumination, and behind the group.
I turned over on my side so that my back was toward the fire. Then
rapidly I cast loose my ankle lashings. Thus I was free, and selecting
a moment when universal attention was turned toward the rum barrel,
I rolled over a sand dune, got to my hands and knees, and crept away.
Through the coarse grass I crept thus, to the very entrance of the
arroyo, then rose to my feet. In the middle distance the fire leaped
red. Its glow fell intermittently on the surges rolling in. The men
staggered or lay prone, either as gigantic silhouettes or as
tatterdemalions painted by the light. The keg stood solid and
substantial, the hub about which reeled the orgy. At the edge of the
wash I could make out something prone, dim, limp, thrown constantly
in new positions of weariness as the water ebbed and flowed beneath
it, now an arm thrown out, now cast back, as though Old Scrubs slept
feverishly. The drunkards were getting noisy. Handy Solomon still
reeled off the verses of, his song. The others joined in, frightfully
off the key; or punctuated the performance by wild staccato yells.
  "Their coffin was their ship and their grave it was the sea,
      _Blow high, blow low! What care we_?
  And the quarter that we gave them was to sink them in the sea,
      _Down on the coast of the high Barbare-e-e,_"
bellowed Handy Solomon.
I turned and plunged into the cool darkness of the canon.
AN ADVENTURE IN THE NIGHT
Ten seconds after entering the arroyo I was stumbling along in an
absolute blackness. It almost seemed to me that I could reach out my
hands and touch it, as one would touch a wall. Or perhaps not exactly
that, for a wall is hard, and this darkness was soft and yielding,
in the manner of enveloping hangings. Directly above me was a narrow,
jagged, and irregular strip of sky with stars. I splashed in the
brook, finding its waters strangely warm, rustled through the grasses,
my head back, chin out, hands extended as one makes his way through
a house at night. There were no sounds except the tinkle of the
sulphurous stream: successive bends in the canon wall had shut off
even the faintest echoes of the bacchanalia on the beach.
The way seemed much longer than by daylight. Already in my calculation
I had traversed many times the distance, when, with a jump at the
heart, I made out a glow ahead, and in front of it the upright logs
of the stockade.
To my surprise the gate was open. I ascended the gentle slope to the
valley's level--and stumbled over a man lying prostrate, shivering
violently, and moaning.
I bent over to discover whom it might be. As I did so a brilliant
light seemed to fill the valley, throwing an illumination on the man
at my feet. I saw it was the Nigger, and perceived at the same instant
that he was almost beside himself with terror. His eyes rolled, his
teeth chattered, his frame contracted in a strong convulsion, and the
black of his complexion had faded to a washed-out dirty grey,
revolting to contemplate. He felt my touch and sprang to his feet,
clutching me by the shoulder as a man clutching rescue.
"My Gawd!" he shivered. "Look! Dar it is again!"
He fell to pattering in a tongue unknown to me--charms, spells,
undoubtedly, to exorcise the devils that had hold of him. I followed
the direction of his gaze, and myself cried out.
The doctor's laboratory stood in plain sight between the two columns
of steam blown straight upward through the stillness of the evening.
It seemed bursting with light. Every little crack leaked it in
generous streams, while the main illumination appeared fairly to bulge
the walls outward. This was in itself nothing extraordinary, and
indicated only the activity of those within, but while I looked an
irregular patch of incandescence suddenly splashed the cliff opposite.
For a single instant the very substance of the rock glowed white hot;
then from the spot a shower of spiteful flakes shot as from a
pyrotechnic, and the light was blotted out as suddenly as it came.
At the same moment it appeared at another point, exhibited the same
phenomena, died, flashed out at still a third place, and so was
repeated here and there with bewildering rapidity until the walls of
the valley crackled and spat sparks. Abruptly the darkness fell.
As abruptly it was broken again by a similar exhibition; only this
time the fire was blue. Blue was followed by purple, purple by red.
Then ensued the briefest possible pause, in which a figure moved
across the bars of light escaping through the chinks of the
laboratory, and then the whole valley blazed with patches of
vari-coloured fire. It was not a reflection: it was actual physical
conflagration of the solid rock, in irregular areas. Some of the fire
shapes were most fantastic. And with the unexpectedness of a bursting
shell the surface of the ground before our feet crackled into a
ghastly blue flame.
The Nigger uttered a cry in his throat and disappeared. I felt a sharp
breath on my neck, an ejaculation of surprise at my very ear. It was
startling enough to scare the soul out of a man, but I held fast and
was just about to step forward, when my collar was twisted tight from
behind. I raised both hands, felt steel, and knew that I was in the
grasp of Handy Solomon's claw.
The sailor had me foul. I did my best to twist around, to unbutton
the collar, but in vain. I felt my wind leaving me, the ghastly blue
light was shot with red. Distinctly I heard the man's sharp intaken
breath as some new phenomenon met his eye, and his great oath as he
swore. "By the mother of God!" he cried, "it's the devil."
Then I was jerked off my feet, and the next I knew I was lying on my
back, very wet, on the beach; the day was breaking, and the men, quite
sober, were talking vehemently.
It was impossible to make out what they said, but as Handy Solomon
and the Nigger were the centre of discussion, I could imagine the subject.
I felt very stiff and sore and hazy in my mind. My neck was lame from
the dragging and my tongue dry from the choking. For some time I lay
in a half-torpor watching the lilac of dawn change to the rose of
sunrise, utterly indifferent to everything. They had thrown me down
across the first rise of the little sand dunes back of the tide sands,
and from it I could at once look out over the sea full of the restless
shadows of dawn, and the land narrowing to the mouth of the arroyo.
I remember wondering whether Captain Selover were up yet. Then with
a sharp stab at the heart I remembered.
The thought was like a dash of cold water in clearing my faculties.
I raised my head. Seaward a white gull had caught the first rays of
the sun beyond the cliffs. Landward--I saw with a choke in my throat--a
figure emerging from the arroyo.
At the sight I made a desperate attempt to move, but with the effort
discovered that I was again bound. My stirring thus called Pulz's
attention. Before I could look away he had followed the direction of
my gaze. The discussion instantly ceased. They waited in grim silence.
I did not know what to do. Percy Darrow, carrying some sort of large
book, was walking rapidly toward us. Perdosa had disappeared.
Thrackles after an instant came and sat beside me and clapped his big
hand over my mouth. It was horrible.
When within a hundred paces or so, I could see that Darrow laboured
under some great excitement. His usual indifferent saunter had, as
I have indicated, given way to a firm and decided step; his ironical
eye glistened; his sallow cheek glowed.
"Boys," he shouted cheerfully. "The time's up. We've succeeded. We'll
sail just as soon as the Lord'll let us get ready. Rustle the stuff
aboard. The doctor'll be down in a short time, and we ought to be
loaded by night."
Handy Solomon and Pulz laid hand on two of the rifles near by and
began surreptitiously to fill their magazines. The Nigger shook his
knife free of the scabbard and sat with it in his left hand, concealed
by his body. I could feel Thrackles's muscles stiffen. Another fifty
paces and it would be no longer necessary to stop my mouth.
The thought made me desperate. I had failed as a leader of these men,
and I had been forced to stand by at debauching, cruel, and murderous
affairs, but now it is over I thank Heaven the reproach cannot be made
against me that at any time I counted the consequences to myself.
Thrackles's hand lay heavy across my mouth. I bit it to the bone, and
as he involuntarily snatched it away, I rolled over toward the sea.
Thus for an instant I had my mouth free. "Run! Run!" I shouted. "For
God's sake----"
Thrackles leaped upon me and struck me heavily upon the mouth, then
sprang for a rifle. I managed to struggle back to the dune, whence
I could see.
FIVE HUNDRED YARDS' RANGE
Percy Darrow, with the keenness that always characterised his mental
apprehension, had understood enough of my strangled cry. He had not
hesitated nor delayed for an explanation, but had turned track and
was now running as fast as his long legs would carry him back toward
the opening of the ravine. My companions stood watching him, but making
no attempt either to shoot or to follow. For a moment I could not
understand this, then remembered the disappearance of Perdosa. My
heart jumped wildly, for the Mexican had been gone quite long enough
to have cut off the assistant's escape. I could not doubt that he
would pick off his man at close range as soon as the fugitive should
have reached the entrance to the arroyo.
There can be no question that he would have done so had not his
Mexican impatience betrayed him. He shot too soon. Percy Darrow
stopped in his tracks. Although we heard the bullet sing by us, for
an instant we thought he was hit. Then Perdosa fired a second time,
again without result. Darrow turned sharp to the left and began desperately
to scale the steep cliffs.
I once took part in a wild boar hunt on the coast of California. Our
dogs had penned a small band at the head of a narrow _barranca_,
from which a single steep trail led over the hill. We, perched on
another hill some three or four hundred yards away, shot at the
animals as they toiled up the trail. The range was long, but we had
time, for the severity of the climb forced the boars to a foot pace.
It was exactly like that. Percy Darrow had two hundred feet of ascent
to make. He could go just so fast; must consume just so much time in
his snail-like progress up the face of the hill. During that time he
furnished an excellent target, and the loose sandstone showed where
each shot struck.
A significant indication was that the men did not take the trouble
to get nearer, for which manoeuvre they would have had time in plenty,
but distributed themselves leisurely for a shooting match.
"First shot," claimed Handy Solomon, and without delay fired off-hand.
A puff of dust showed to the right. "Nerve no good," he commented,
"jerked her just as I pulled."
Pulz fired from the knee. The dust this time puffed below.
"Thought she'd carry up at that distance," he muttered.
The Nigger, too, missed, and Thrackles grinned triumphantly.
"I get a show," said he. He spread his massive legs apart, drew a deep
breath, and raised his weapon. It lay in his grasp steady as a log,
and I saw that Percy Darrow's fate was in the hands of that dangerous
class of natural marksman that possesses no nerves. But for the second
time my teeth saved his life. The trigger guard slipped against
Thrackles's lacerated hand almost at the instant of discharge. He
missed; and the bullet went wide.
Darrow had climbed a matter of twenty feet.
Now the seamen distributed themselves for more leisurely and accurate
marksmanship. Handy Solomon lay flat on his stomach, resting the rifle
muzzle across the top of a sand dune. Pulz sat down, an elbow on
either knee for the greater steadiness. The Nigger knelt; but
Thrackles remained on his feet. No rest could be steadier than the
stone-like rigidity of his thick arms.
The firing now became miscellaneous. No one paid any attention to
anyone else. Each discovered what I could have told them, that even
the human figure at five hundred yards is a small mark for a strange
rifle. The constant correction of elevation, however, brought the
puffs of dust always closer, and I could not but realise that the
doctrine of chances must bring home some of the bullets. I soon
discovered by way of comfort that only Thrackles and Handy Solomon
really understood firearms; and of those two Thrackles alone had had
much experience at long range. He told me afterward he had hunted
About halfway up the cliff Thrackles fired his fifth shot. No dust
followed the discharge; and I saw Percy Darrow stagger and almost lose
his hold. The men yelled savagely, but the assistant pulled himself
together and continued his crawling.
The sun had been shining in our faces. I could imagine its blurring
effect on the sights. Now abruptly it was blotted out, and a
semi-twilight fell. We all looked up, in spite of ourselves. An opaque
veil had been drawn quite across the heavens, through which we could
not make out even the shape of the sun. It was like a thunder cloud
except that its under surface instead of being the usual grey-black
was a deep earth-brown. As we looked up, a deep bellow stirred the air,
which had fallen quite still, long forks of lightning shot
horizontally from the direction of the island's interior, and flashes
of dull red were reflected from the canopy of cloud.
The men stared with their mouths open. Undoubtedly the change had been
some time in preparation, but all had been so absorbed in the affair
of the doctor's assistant that no one had noticed. It came to our
consciousness with the suddenness of a theatrical change. A dull
roaring commenced, grew in volume, and then a great explosion shook
the very ground under our feet.
We stared at each other, our faces whitening.
"What kind of hell has broke loose?" muttered Pulz.
The Nigger fell flat on his face, uttering deep lamentations.
"Voodoo! Voodoo!" he groaned.
A gentle shower of white flakes began, powdering the surface of
everything. Far out to sea we could make out the sun on the water.
Gradually the roaring died down; the lightning ceased. Comparative
peace ensued. We looked again toward the cliff. Percy Darrow had not
for one instant ceased to climb. He was just topping the edge of the
bluff. Handy Solomon, with a cry of rage, seized another rifle and
emptied the magazine at him as fast as the lever could be worked. The
dust flew wild in a half dozen places. Darrow drew himself up to the
sky line, raised his hat ironically, and disappeared.
[Illustration: The firing now became miscellaneous. No one paid any
attention to any one else.]
"Damn his soul!" cried Handy Solomon, his face livid. He threw his
rifle to the beach and danced on it in an ecstasy of rage.
"What do we care," growled Thrackles, "he's no good to us. W'at I want
to know is, wat's up here, anyhow!"
"Didn't you never see a volcano go off, you swab?" snapped Handy
"Easy with your names, mate. No, I never did. We better get out."
"Without the chest?"
"S'pose we go up the gulch and get it, then," suggested Thrackles.
But at this Handy Solomon drew back in evident terror.
"Up that hole of hell?" he objected. "Not I. You an' Pulz go."
They wrangled over it, Pulz joining. Perdosa, shaken to the soul,
crept in, and made a bee-line for the rum barrel. He and the Nigger
were frankly scared. They had the nervous jumps at every little noise
or unexpected movement; and even the natural explanation of these
phenomena gave them very little reassurance. I knew that Darrow would
hurry as fast as he could back to the valley by way of the upper
hills; I knew that he had there several sporting rifles; and I hoped
greatly that he and Dr. Schermerhorn might accomplish something before
the men had recovered their wits to the point of foreseeing his
probable attack. The uncanny cloud in the heavens, the weird
half-light, and the explosions, which now grew more frequent, had
their strong effect in spite of explanation. The men were not really
afraid to venture in quest of the supposed treasure; but they were in
a frame of mind that dreaded the first plunge. And time was going by.
But the fates were against us, as always in this ill-starred voyage.
I, watching from my sand dune, saw a second figure emerge from the
arroyo's mouth. It appeared to stagger as though hurt; and every eight
or ten paces it stopped and rested in a bent-over position. The murky
light was too dim for me to make out details; but after a moment a
rift in the veil enabled me to identify Dr. Schermerhorn carrying,
with great difficulty, the chest.
I took no chances, but began at once to shout, as soon as I saw the men
had noticed his coming. It was impossible for me to tell whether or not
Dr. Schermerhorn heard me. If he did, he misunderstood my intention, for
he continued painfully to advance. The only result I gained was to get
myself well gagged with my own pocket handkerchief, and thrown in a hollow
between the dunes. Thence I could hear Handy Solomon speaking fiercely and
"Now you let me run this," he commanded; "we got to find out somethin'. It
ain't no good to us without we knows--and we want to find out how he's got
the rest hid."
They assented.
"I'm goin' out to help him carry her in," announced the seaman.
A long pause ensued, in which I watched the deep canopy of red-black
thicken overhead. A strange and unearthly light had fallen on the world,
and the air was quite still. After a while I heard Handy Solomon and Dr.
Schermerhorn join the group.
"There you are, Perfessor," cried Handy Solomon, in tones of the greatest
heartiness, "I'll put her right there, and she'll be as safe as a babby at
home. She's heavy, though."
Dr. Schermerhorn laughed a pleased and excited laugh. I could tell by the
tone of his voice that he was strung high, and guessed that his triumph
needed an audience.
"You may say so well!" he said. "It iss heafy; and it iss heafy with the
world-desire, the great substance than can do efferything. Where iss
"He's gone aboard."
"We must embark. The time is joost right. A day sooner and the egsperiment
would haf been spoilt; but now"--he laughed--"let the island sink, we do
not care. We must embark hastily."
"It'll take a man long time to carry down all your things, Perfessor."
"Oh, led them go! The eruption has alretty swallowed them oop. The lava
iss by now a foot deep in the valley. Before long it flows here, so we
must embark."
"But you've lost all them vallyable things, Perfessor," said Handy
Solomon. "Now, I call that hard luck."
Dr. Schermerhorn snapped his fingers.
"They do not amoundt to that!" he cried. "Here, here, in this leetle box
iss all the treasure! Here iss the labour of ten years! Here iss the
_Laughing Lass_, and the crew, and all the equipmendt comprised. Here iss
"I'm a plain seaman, Perfessor, and I suppose I got to believe you; but
she's a main small box for all that."
"With that small box you can haf all your wishes," asserted the Professor,
still in the German lyric strain over his triumph. "It iss the box of
enchantments. You haf but to will the change you would haf taig place--it
iss done. The substance of the rocks, the molecule--all!"
"Could a man make diamonds?" asked Pulz abruptly. I could hear the sharp
intake of the men's breathing as they hung on the reply.
"Much more wonderful changes than that it can accomplish," replied the
doctor, with an indulgent laugh. "That change iss simple. Carbon iss coal;
carbon iss diamond. You see? One has but to change the form, not the
"Then it'll change coal to diamonds?" asked Handy Solomon.
"Yes, you gather my meanings--"
I heard a sharp squeak like a terrified mouse. Then a long, dreadful
silence; then two dull, heavy blows, spaced with deliberation. A moment
later I caught a glimpse of Handy Solomon bent forward to the labour of
dragging a body toward the sea, his steel claw hooked under the angle of
the jaw as a man handles a fish. Pulz came and threw off my bonds and gag.
"Come along!" said he.
All kept looking fearfully toward the arroyo. A dense white steam marked
its course. The air was now heavy with portent. Successive explosions,
some light, some severe, shook the foundations of the island. Great rocks
and boulders bounded down the hills. The flashes of lightning had become
more frequent. We moved, exaggerated to each other's vision by the strange
light, uncouth and gigantic.
"Let's get out of this!" cried Thrackles.
We turned at the word and ran, Thrackles staggering under the weight of
the chest. All our belongings we abandoned, and set out for the _Laughing
Lass_ with only the tatters in which we stood. Luckily for us a great part
of the ship's stores had been returned to her hold after the last thorough
scrubbing, so we were in subsistence, but all our clothes, all our
personal belongings, were left behind us on the beach. For after once we
had topped the cliff that led over to the cove, I doubt if any
consideration on earth would have induced us to return to that accursed
The row out to the ship was wet and dangerous. Seismic disturbances were
undoubtedly responsible for high pyramidic waves that lifted and fell
without onward movement. We fairly tumbled up out of the dory, which we
did not hoist on deck, but left at the end of the painter to beat her
sides against the ship.
THE OPEN SEA
Our haste, however, availed us little, for there was no wind at all. We
lay for over two hours under the weird light, over-canopied by the red-
brown cloud, while the explosions shook the foundations of the world.
Nobody ventured below. The sails flapped idly from the masts: the blocks
and spars creaked: the three-cornered waves rose straight up and fell
again as though reaching from the deep.
When the men first began to sweat the sails up, evidently in preparation
for an immediate departure, I objected vehemently.
"You aren't going to leave him on the island," I cried. "He'll die of
starvation."
They did not answer me; but after a little more, when my expostulations
had become more positive, Handy Solomon dropped the halliard, and drew me
to one side.
"Look here, you," he snarled, "you'd better just stow your gab. You're
lucky to be here yourself, let alone botherin' your thick head about
anybody else, and you can kiss the Book on that! Do you know why you ain't
with them carrion?" He jerked his thumb toward the beach. "It's because
Solomon Anderson's your friend. Thrackles would have killed you in a
minute 'count of his bit hand. I got you your chance. Now don't you be a
fool, for I ain't goin' to stand between you and them another time.
Besides, he won't last long if that volcano keeps at it."
He left me. Whatever truth lay in his assumption of friendship, and I
doubted there existed much of either truth or friendship in him, I saw the
common sense of his advice. I was in no position to dictate a course of
After the sails were on her we gathered at the starboard rail to watch the
shore. There the hills ran into inky blackness, as the horizon sometimes
merges into a thunder squall. A dense white steam came from the creek bed
within the arroyo. The surges beat on the shore louder than the ordinary,
and the foam, even in these day hours, seemed to throw up a faint
phosphorescence. Frequent earthquakes oscillated the landscape. We
watched, I do not know for what, our eyes straining into the murk of the
island. Nobody thought of the chest, which lay on the cabin table aft. I
contributed maliciously my bit to their fear.
"These volcanic islands sometimes sink entirely," I suggested, "and in
that case we'd be carried down by the suction."
It was intended merely to increase their uneasiness, but, strangely
enough, after a few moments it ended by imposing itself on my own fears. I
began to be afraid the island would sink, began to watch for it, began to
share the fascinated terror of these men.
The suspense after a time became unbearable, for while the portent--
whether physical or moral we were too far under its influence to
distinguish--grew momentarily, our own souls did not expand in due
correspondence. We talked of towing, of kedging out, of going to any
extreme, even to small boats. Then just as we were about to move toward
some accomplishment, a new phenomenon chained our attention to the shore.
In the mouth of the arroyo appeared a red glow. A moment later a wave of
lava, white-hot, red, iridescent, cooling to a black crust cracked in
incandescence, rolled majestically out over the grassy plain. Each instant
it grew in volume, until the ravine must have been flowing half full.
Before its scorching the grasses even at the edge of the sea were smoking,
and our camp had already burst into flames. We had to shield our faces
against the heat, and the wooden railing under our hands was growing warm.
Pulz turned an ashy countenance toward us.
"My God," he screamed. "What's going to happen when she hits the sea?"
She hit the sea, and immediately a great cloud of steam arose, and the
hissing as of a thousand serpents. We felt the strong suction under our
keel, and staggered under the jerk of the ship's cable as she swung toward
the beach. The paint was beginning to crackle along the rail. We could see
nothing for the scalding white veil that enveloped us; we could hear
nothing for the roar of steam, the bombardment of explosions, and the
crash of thunder; but our nostrils were assaulted by a most unearthly
medley of smells.
"Hell's loose," growled Thrackles.
We were clinging hard as the ship reeled. Huge surges were racing in from
seaward, growing larger with each successive billow.
Handy Solomon raised his head, listened intently, and struck his forehead.
"Wind," he screamed at the top of his voice, and jumped for the halliards.
Thrackles followed him, but no one else moved. In an instant the two were
back, striking and kicking savagely, rousing their companions to the
danger. We all laid into the canvas like mad, and in no time had snugged
down to a staysail and the peak of our mainsail. Thrackles drew his knife
and jumped for the cable, while Handy Solomon, his eyes snapping, seized
We finished just in time. I was turning away after tying the last gasket
on the foresail, when the deck up-ended and tipped me headforemost into
the starboard scupper. At the same time a smother of salt water blew over
the port rail, now far above me, to drench me as thoroughly as though I
had fallen overboard. I brushed out my eyes to find the ship smack on her
beam ends, and the wind howling by from the sea.
I had company enough in the scuppers. Only Handy Solomon clung desperately
to the wheel, jamming his weight to port in the hope she might pay up:
Thrackles, too, his eye squinted along some bearing of his own, was
waiting for her to drag. Presently it became evident that she was doing
so, whereupon he drew his knife across our hawser.
"My God," chattered Pulz at my ear. "If we go ashore--"
He did not need to finish. Unless the _Laughing Lass_ could recover before
the squall had driven her to leeward a scant half mile, we should be
cooked alive in the boiling cauldron at the shore's edge.
For an interminable time, as it seemed to me, we lay absolutely
motionless. The scene is stamped indelibly on my memory--the bulwarks high
above me, the steep, sleek deck, the piratical figure tense at the wheel,
the snarling water racing from beneath us, the lurid glow to landward
crawling up on us inch by inch like a hungry wild beast. Then almost
imperceptibly the brave schooner righted. The strained lines on Handy
Solomon's carven features relaxed little by little. Thrackles, staring
over the side, let out a mighty roar.
"Steerage way," he shouted, and executed an awkward clog dance on the
reeling deck.
She moved forward, there was no doubt of that, for gradually we were
eating toward the wind--but we made considerable leeway as well. Handy
Solomon, taut as the weather rigging, took his little advantages one by
one like precious gifts. Light there was none; the land was blotted out by
the steam and murk which had crept to sea and now was hurled back by the
wind. All we could do was to hang there, tasting the copper of excitement,
waiting for these different forces to adjust themselves. Inch by inch we
crept forward: foot by foot we made leeway. The intensest of the lava glow
worked its way from directly abeam to the quarter. By this we knew we must
be nearly opposite the cove. At once a new doubt sprang up in our minds.
A moment ago all the energy of our desires had gone up in the ambition to
avoid being cast on the beach. Now we saw that that was not enough. It was
necessary to squeeze around the point where lay the _Golden Horn_, in
order to avoid the fate that had overtaken her. Handy Solomon yelled
something at us. We could not hear, but our own knowledge told us what it
must be, and with one accord we turned to on the foresail. With the peak
of it hoisted we moved a trifle faster, though the schooner lay over at a
perilous angle. A moment later the fogs parted to show us the cliffs
looming startlingly near. There were the donkey engine and the works we
had constructed for wrecking--and there beside them, watching us
reflectively, stood Percy Darrow.
For ten minutes we stared at him fascinated, during which time the ship
laboured against the staggering winds, gained and lost in its buffeting
with the great surges. The breakers hurling themselves in wild abandon
against the rocks sent their back-wash of tumbling peaks to our very
bilges. The few remains of the _Golden Horn_, alternately drenched and
draining, seemed to picture to us our inevitable end.
I think we had all selected the same two points for our "bearings," a rock
and a drop of the cliff bolder than the ordinary. If the rock opened from
the cliff to eastward, we were lost; if it remained stationary, we were at
least holding our own; if it opened out to westward, we were saved. We
watched with a strained eagerness impossible to describe. At each
momentary gain or rebuff we uttered ejaculations. The Nigger mumbled
charms. Every once in a while one of us would snatch a glance to leeward
at the cruel, white waters, the whirl of eddies where the sea was beaten,
only to hurry back to the rock and the point of the cliff whence our
message of safety or destruction was to be flung. Once I looked up. Percy
Darrow was leaning gracefully against a stanchion, watching. His soft hat
was pulled over his eyes; he stroked softly his little moustache; I caught
the white puff of his cigarette. During the moment of my inattention
something happened. A wild shout burst from the men. I whirled, and saw to
my great joy a strip of sky westward between the cliff and the rock. And
at that very instant a billow larger than the ordinary rolled beneath us,
and in the back suction of its passage I could dimly make out cruel,
dangerous rocks lying almost under our keel.
Slowly we crept away. Our progress seemed infinitesimal, and yet it was
real. In a while we had gained sea room; in a while more we were fairly
under sailing way, and the cliffs had begun to drop from our quarter. With
one accord we looked back. Percy Darrow waved his hand in an indescribably
graceful and ironic gesture; then turned square on his heel and sauntered
away to the north valley, out of the course of the lava. That was the last
I ever saw of him.
As we made our way from beneath the island, the weight of the wind seemed
to lessen. We got the foresail on her, then a standing jib; finally little
by little all her ordinary working canvas. Before we knew it, we were
bowling along under a stiff breeze, and the island was dropping astern.
From a distance it presented a truly imposing sight. The centre shot
intermittent blasts of ruddy light; explosions, deadened by distance,
still reverberated strongly; the broad canopy of brown-red, split with
lightnings, spread out like a huge umbrella. The lurid gloom that had
enveloped us in the atmosphere apparently of a nether world had given
place to a twilight. Abruptly we passed from it to a sun-kissed, sparkling
sea. The breeze blew sweet and strong; the waves ran untortured in their
natural long courses.
At once the men seemed to throw off the superstitious terror that had
cowed them. Pulz and Thrackles went to bail the extra dory, alongside,
which by a miracle had escaped swamping. The Nigger disappeared in the
galley. Perdosa relieved Handy Solomon at the wheel; and Handy Solomon
came directly over to me.
THE CATASTROPHE
He approached me with a confidence that proclaimed the new leader. A brace
of Colt's revolvers swung from his belt, the tatters of his blood-stained
garments hung about him.
"Well, here we are," he remarked.
I nodded, waiting for what he had to disclose.
"And lucky for you that you're here at all, say I," he continued. "And now
that you're here, w'at are you going to do? That's the question--w'at are
you going to do?" He cocked his head sidewise and looked at me
speculatively as a cat might look at a rather large mouse. "We been a
little rough," he went on after a moment, "and some folks is strait-laced.
There might be trouble. And you know a heap too much."
"What do you want of me?" I demanded.
"It's just this," he returned briskly. "If you'll lay us our course to San
Salvador, we'll let you go as one of us and no questions asked."
"If not?" I inquired.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I leave it to you."
"There's always the sea," I suggested.
"And it's deep," he agreed.
We looked out to the horizon in a diplomatic silence. I did not know
whether to be angry, amused, or alarmed that the man estimated my
cleverness so slightly. Why, the hook was barely concealed, and the bait
of the coarsest. That I would go safe to a sight of San Salvador I did not
doubt: that I would never enter the harbour I was absolutely certain. The
choice offered me was practically whether I preferred being thrown
overboard now or several hundred miles to southeastward.
I thought rapidly. It might be possible to announce a daily false
reckoning to the crew, to sail the ship within rowing distance of some
coast; and then to escape while the men believed themselves many hundred
miles at sea. It would take nice calculation to prevent suspicion, but as
it was the only chance I resolved upon it immediately.
"That's all very well," I said firmly, "but you can't get anywhere without
me, and I'm not going to put in two years and then keep my mouth shut for
nothing. I want a share in the swag--an even share with the rest of you."
"Oh, that'll be all right," he cried; "you can have it."
If anything was needed to convince me of the man's sinister intentions,
this too ready acquiescence would have been enough. I knew him too well.
If he had had the slightest intention of permitting me to go free, he
would have bargained.
The Nigger called us to mess. We ate in the after cabin. The chest was
locked and the men had as yet been unable to break into it. Pulz professed
some skill in locksmithing and promised to experiment later. After mess we
went on deck again. The island had dropped down to the horizon and showed
as a brilliant glow under a dark canopy. I leaned over the rail looking at
it. Below me the extra dory bumped along. The idea came to me that if I
could escape that night, I could row back to Percy Darrow. The two of us
could make shift to live on fish and shellfish and mutton. The plan
rapidly defined itself in my brain. From the remains of the _Golden Horn_
we could construct some kind of a craft in which to run free to the summer
trades. Thus we might in time reach some one or another of the Sandwich
Islands, whence a passing trader could take us back to civilisation. There
were many elements of uncertainty in the scheme, but it seemed to me less
desperate than trusting to the caprices of these men, especially since
they now had free access to the liquor stores.
While I leaned over the rail engrossed in these thoughts, one of the black
thunder clouds that had been gathering and dissipating over the island
during the entire afternoon suddenly glowed overhead with a strange white
incandescence startlingly akin to Darrow's so-called "devil fires."
Strangely enough, this illumination, unlike the volcanic glows, appeared
to be cast on the clouds from without rather than shot through them from
within, as were the other volcanic emanations. At the same instant I
experienced a sharp interior revulsion of some sort, most briefly
momentary, but of a character that shook me from head to toe.
I had no time to analyse these various impressions, however, for my
attention was almost instantly distracted. From the cabin came the sound
of a sharp fall, then a man cried out, and on the heels of it Pulz darted
from the cabin, screaming horribly. We were all on deck, and as the little
man rushed toward the stern Handy Solomon twisted him deftly from his
"My God, mate, what is it?" he cried, as he pinned the sufferer to the
But Pulz could not answer. He shivered, stiffened, and lay rigid, his eyes
rolled back.
"Fits," remarked Thrackles impatiently.
The excitement died. Rum was forced between the victim's lips. After a
little he recovered, but could tell us nothing of his seizure.
After the dishes had been swept aside from supper, Handy Solomon announced
a second attempt to open the chest.
"Pancho, here, says he's been a mechanic," said he. "I right well know
he's been a housebreaker. So he's got the _sabe_ for the job, and you can
kiss the Book on that."
Perdosa, with a grin, leaned over the cover from behind and began to pick
away at the lock with a long, crooked wire. The others drew close about. I
slipped nearer the door, imagining that in their riveted interest I saw my
opportunity. To my surprise I caught a glimpse of legs disappearing up the
companion. I took stock. Pulz had gone on deck.
This surprised me, for I should have thought every man interested enough
in the supposed treasure to wish to be present at its uncovering; and it
annoyed me still more--the success of my plan demanded a clear deck.
However, there was nothing for it now but to trust that Pulz had wished to
visit the forecastle, and that I might find the afterworks empty.
I paused at the foot of the companion and looked back. A breathlessness of
excitement held the pirates in a vise. From above, the hanging lamp threw
strong shadows across their faces, bringing out the deep lines,
accentuating the dominant passions. With their rags and blood, their
unshaven faces, their firearms, their filth, they showed in violent
antithesis to the immaculate white of Old Scrubs's cabin, its glittering
brass, and its shining leather. I darted up the steps.
The contrast of the starry night with the glare of the cabin lamp dazzled
my eyes. I stood stock still for a moment, during which the only sounds
audible were the singing of the winds through the rigging, the wash of the
sea, and the small, sharp click of Perdosa's instrument as he worked at
Presently I could see better. I looked forward and aft for Pulz, but could
see nothing of him, and had just about concluded that he had gone forward
when I happened to glance aloft. There, to my astonishment, I made him
out, huddled in silhouette against the stars, close to the main truck.
What he was doing there I could not imagine. However, I did not have time
to bother my head about him, further than to rejoice that he could not
obstruct me.
I should very much have liked to get hold of a rifle and ammunition, or at
least to lay in biscuit and water, but for this there was no time. It was
not absolutely essential. The dull glow of the island was still visible. I
had my pillar of fire and smoke to guide me.
Without further delay I jerked loose the painter and drew the extra dory
I had proceeded just so far in my movements, when the most extraordinary
thing happened. I shall try to tell you of it as accurately as possible,
and in the exact order of its occurrence. First a long, straight shaft of
white light shot straight up through the cabin roof to a great height. It
shone through the wooden planks as an ordinary light shines through glass.
By contrast the surrounding blackness was thrown into a deeper shade, and
yet the shaft itself was so brilliant as almost to scotch the sight.
Curiously enough, it was defined accurately, being exactly in shape like
one of the rectangular tin air-shafts you see so often in city hotels. At
the instant of its appearance, the wind fell quite calm.
Almost immediately the rectangle on the roof through which the light made
its passage began to splay out, like lighted oil, although the column
retained still the integrity of its outline. The fire, if such it could be
called, ran with incredible rapidity along the seams between the planks,
forward and aft, until the entire deck was sketched like a pyrotechnic
display in thin, vivid lines of incandescence. From each of these lines
then the fire began again to spread, as though soaking through the planks.
All took place practically in an instant of time. I had no opportunity to
move nor to cry out; indeed, my perceptions were inadequate to the task of
mere observation. Up to now there had been no sound. The wind had fallen;
the waters passed unnoticed. A stillness of death seemed to have descended
on the ship. It was broken by a sharp double report, one as of the fall of
a metallic substance, the other caused by the body of Pulz, which, shaken
loose from the truck by a heavy roll, smashed against the rail of the ship
and splashed overboard. Someone cried out sharply. An instant later the
entire crew struggled out from the companionway, rushed in grim silence to
the side of the vessel, and threw themselves into the sea.
My own ideas were somewhat confused. The fire had practically enveloped
the ship. I thought to feel it; and yet my skin was cool to the touch. The
ship's outlines became blurred. A dizziness overtook me; and then all at
once a great desire seized and shook my very soul. I cannot tell you the
vehemence of this desire. It was a madness; nothing could stand in the way
of its gratification. Whatever happened, I must have water. It was not
thirst, nor yet a purpose to allay the very real physical burning of which
I was now dimly conscious; but a craving for the liquid itself as
something apart from and unconnected with anything else. Without
hesitation, and as though it were the most natural thing in the world, I
vaulted the rail to cast myself into the ocean. I dimly remember a last
flying impression of a furnace of light, then a great shock thudded
through me, and I lost consciousness.
IN THE WARDROOM
Over the wardroom of the _Wolverine_ had fallen a silence. It held after
Slade had finished. Captain Parkinson, stiff and erect in his chair,
staring fixedly at a spot two feet above the reporter's head, seemed to
weigh, as a judge weighs, the facts so picturesquely, set forth. Dr.
Trendon, his sturdy frame half in shadow, had slouched far down into
himself. Only the regard of his keen eyes fixed upon Slade's face,
unwaveringly and a bit anxiously, showed that he was thinking of the
narrator as well as of the narrative. The others had fallen completely
under the spell of the tale. They sat, as children in a theatre, absorbed,
forgetful of the world around them, wrapped in a more vivid element. At
the close, they stirred and blinked, half dazed by the abrupt fall of the
Slade had told his story with fire, with something of passion, even. Now
he felt the sharp reflex. He muttered uncertainly beneath his breath and
glanced from one to another of the circled faces.
"That's all," he said unsteadily.
There passed through the group a stir and a murmur. Someone broke into
sharp coughing. Chairs, shoved back, grated on the floor.
"Well, of all the extraordinary--" began a voice, ruminatingly, and broke
short off, as if abashed at its own infraction of the silence.
"That's all," repeated Slade, a note of insistence in his voice. "Why
don't you say something? Confound you, why don't you say something?" His
speech rose husky and cracked. "Don't you believe it?"
"Hold on," said the surgeon quietly. "No need to get excited."
"Oh, well," muttered the reporter, with a sudden lapse. "Possibly you
think I'm romancing. It doesn't matter. I don't suppose I'd believe it
myself, in your place."
"But we're heading for the island," suggested Forsythe.
"That's so," cried Slade. "Well, that's all right. Believe or disbelieve
as much as you like. Only get Percy Darrow off that island. Then we'll
have his version. There are a few things I want to find out about,
"There are several that promise to be fairly interesting," said Forsythe,
under his breath.
Slade turned to the captain. "Have you any questions to put to me, sir?"
he asked formally.
"Just one moment," interrupted Trendon. "Boy, a pony of brandy for Mr.
The reporter drank the liquor and again turned to Captain Parkinson.
"Only about our men," said the commanding officer, after a little thought.
Slade shook his head.
"I'm sorry I can't help you there, sir."
"Dr. Trendon said that you knew nothing about Edwards."
"Edwards?" repeated Slade inquiringly. His mind, still absorbed in the
events which he had been relating, groped backward.
Trendon came to his aid. "Barnett asked you about him, you remember. It
was when you recovered consciousness. Our ensign. Took over charge of the
_Laughing Lass_."
"Oh, of course. I was a little dazed, I fancy."
"We put Mr. Edwards aboard when we first picked up the deserted schooner,"
explained the captain.
"Pardon me," said the other. "My head doesn't seem to work quite right
yet. Just a moment, please." He sat silent, with closed eyes. "You say you
picked up the _Laughing Lass_. When?" he asked presently.
"Four--five--six days ago, the first time."
"Then you put out the fire."
The circle closed in on Slade, with an unconscious hitching forward of
chairs. He had fixed his eyes on the captain. His mouth worked. Obviously
he was under a tensity of endeavour in keeping his faculties set to the
problem. The surgeon watched him, frowning.
"There was no fire," said the captain.
Slade leaped in his chair. "No fire! But I saw her, I tell you. When I
went overboard she was one living flame!"
"You landed in the small boat. Knocked you senseless," said Trendon.
"Concussion of the brain. Idea of flame might have been a retroactive
hallucination."
"Retroactive rot," cried the other. "I beg your pardon, Dr. Trendon. But
if you'd seen her as I saw her--Barnett!"
He turned in appeal to his old acquaintance.
"There was no fire, Slade," replied the executive officer gently. "No sign
of fire that we could find, except that the starboard rail was blistered."
"Oh, that was from the volcano," said Slade. "That was nothing."
"It was all there was," returned Barnett.
"Just let me run this thing over," said the free lance slowly. "You found
the schooner. She wasn't afire. She didn't even seem to have been afire.
You put a crew aboard under your ensign, Edwards. Storm separated you from
her. You picked her up again deserted. Is that right?"
"Day before yesterday morning."
"Then," cried the other excitedly, "the fire was smouldering all the time.
It broke out and your men took to the water."
"Impossible," said Barnett.
"Fiddlesticks!" said the more downright surgeon.
"I hardly think Mr. Edwards would be driven overboard by a fire which did
not even scorch his ship," suggested the captain mildly.
"It drove our lot overboard," insisted Slade. "Do you think we were a pack
of cowards? I tell you, when that hellish thing broke loose, you had to
go. It wasn't fear. It wasn't pain. It was--What's the use. You can't
explain a thing like that."
"We certainly saw the glow the night Billy Edwards was--disappeared,"
mused Forsythe.
"And again, night before last," said the captain.
"What's that!" cried Slade. "Where is the _Laughing Lass_?"
"I'd give something pretty to know," said Barnett.
"Isn't she in tow?"
"In tow?" said Forsythe. "No, indeed. We hadn't adequate facilities for
towing her. Didn't you tell him, Mr. Barnett?"
"Where is she, then?" Slade fired the question at them like a cross-
"Why, we shipped another crew under Ives and McGuire that noon. We were
parted again, and haven't seen them since."
"God forgive you!" said the reporter. "After the warnings you'd had, too.
It was--it was--"
"My orders, Mr. Slade," said Captain Parkinson, with quiet dignity.
"Of course, sir. I beg your pardon," returned the other. "But--you say you
saw the light again?"
"The first night they were out," said Barnett, in a low voice.
"Then your second crew is with your first crew," said Slade, shakily. "And
they're with Thrackles, and Pulz and Solomon, and many another black-
hearted scoundrel and brave seaman. Down there!"
He pointed under foot. Captain Parkinson rose and went to his cabin. Slade
rose, too, but his knees were unsteady. He tottered, and but for the swift
aid of Barnett's arm, would have fallen.
"Overdone," said Dr. Trendon, with some irritation. "Cost you something in
strength. Foolish performance. Turn in now."
Slade tried to protest, but the surgeon would not hear of it, and marched
him incontinently to his berth. Returning, Trendon reported, with growls
of discontent, that his patient was in a fever.
"Couldn't expect anything else," he fumed. "Pack of human interrogation
points hounding him all over the place."
"What do you think of his story?" asked Forsythe.
The grizzled surgeon drew out a cigar, lighted it, took three deliberate
puffs, turned it about, examined the ash end with concentration, and
"Man's telling a straight story."
"You think it's all true?" cried Forsythe.
"Humph!" grunted the other. "_He thinks it's all true_."
An orderly appeared and knocked at the captain's cabin.
"Beg pardon, sir," they heard him say. "Mr. Carter would like to know how
close in to run. Volcano's acting up pretty bad, sir."
Captain Parkinson went on deck, followed by the rest.
THE JOLLY ROGER
Feeling the way forward, the cruiser was soon caught in a maze of cross
currents. Hither and thither she was borne, a creature bereft of volition.
Order followed order like the rattle of quick-fire, and was obeyed with
something more than the _Wolverine's_ customary smartness. From the bridge
Captain Parkinson himself directed his ship. His face was placid: his
bearing steady and confident. This in itself was sufficient earnest that
the cruiser was in ticklish case. For it was an axiom of the men who
sailed under Parkinson that the calmer that nervous man grew, the more
cause was there for nervousness on the part of others.
The approach was from the south, but suspicious aspects of the water had
fended the cruiser out and around, until now she stood prow-on to a bold
headland at the northwest corner of the island. Above this headland lay a
dark pall of vapour. In the shifting breeze it swayed sluggishly, heavily,
as if riding at anchor like a logy ship of the air. Only once did it show
any marked movement.
"It's spreading out toward us," said Barnett to his fellow officers,
gathered aft.
"Time to move, then," grunted Trendon.
The others looked at him inquiringly.
"About as healthful as prussic acid, those volcanic gases," explained the
The ship edged on and inward. Presently the sing-song of the leadsman
sounded in measured distinctness through the silence. Then a sudden
activity and bustle forward, the rattle of chains, and the _Wolverine_ was
at anchor. The captain came down from the bridge.
"What do you think, Dr. Trendon?" he asked.
More explicit inquiry was not necessary.
The surgeon understood what was in his superior's mind.
"Never can tell about volcanoes, sir," he said.
"Of course," agreed the captain. "But--well, do you recognise any of the
"Want me to diagnose a case of earthquake, sir?" grinned Trendon. "She
might go off to-day, or she might behave herself for a century."
"Well, it's all chance," said the other, cheerfully. "The man _might_ be
alive. At any rate we must do our best on that theory. What do you make of
that cloud on the peak?"
"Poisonous vapours, I suppose. Thought we'd have a chance to make sure
just now. Seemed to be coming right for us. Wind's shifted it since."
"There couldn't be anything alive up there?"
"Not so much as a bug," replied the doctor positively.
"Yet I thought when the vapour lifted a bit that I saw something moving."
"When was that, sir?"
"Ten or fifteen minutes back."
"We'll see soon enough, sir," put in Forsythe. "The wind is driving it
down to the south'ard."
Sullenly, reluctantly, the forbidding mass moved across the headland. All
glasses were bent upon it. Without taking his binocular from his eyes,
Trendon began to ruminate aloud.
"If he could have got to the beach.... No vapour there.... Signal,
though.... Perhaps he hadn't time.... And I'd hate to risk good men on
that hell's cauldron.... Just as much risk here, perhaps. Only it seems--"
"There it is," cried Forsythe. "Look. The highest point."
Dull, gray wisps of murk, the afterguard of the gaseous cloud, were
twisting and spiraling in a witch-dance across the landscape, and, seen by
snatches and glimpses through it, something flapped darkly in the breeze.
Suddenly the veil parted and fled. A flag stood forth in the sharp gust,
rigid, and appalling. It was black.
"The Jolly Roger, by God! They've come back!" exclaimed Forsythe.
"And set up the sign of their shop," added Barnett.
"If they stuck to their flag--good-bye," observed Trendon grimly.
"Dr. Trendon," said Captain Parkinson, "you will arm yourself and go with
me in the gig to make a landing."
"Yes, sir," responded the surgeon.
"Mr. Barnett."
"Should we be overtaken by the vapour while on the highland and be unable
to get back to the beach, you are to send no rescuing party up there until
the air has cleared."
"But, sir, may we not--"
"Do you understand?"
"In case of an attack you will at once send in another boat with a
"Dr. Trendon, will you see Mr. Slade and inquire of him the best point for
Trendon hesitated.
"I suppose it would hardly do to take him with us?" pursued the commanding
"If he is roused now, even for a moment, I won't answer for the
consequences, sir," said the surgeon bluntly.
"Surely you can have him point out a landing place," said the captain.
"On your responsibility," returned the other, obstinately. "He's under
opiate now."
"Be it so," said Captain Parkinson, after a time.
Going in, they saw no sign of life along the shore. Even the birds had
deserted it. For the time the volcano seemed to have pretermitted its
activity. Now and again there was a spurtle of smoke from the cone,
followed by subterranean growlings, but, on the whole, the conditions were
"Penny-pop-pinwheel of a volcano, anyhow," remarked Trendon,
disparagingly. "Real man-size eruption would have wiped the whole thing
off the map, first whack."
As they drew in, it became apparent that they must scale the cliff from
the boat. Farther to the south opened out a wide cove that suggested easy
beaching, but over it hung a cloud of steam.
"Lava pouring down," said Trendon.
Fortunately at the point where the cliff looked easiest the seas ran low.
Ropes had been brought. After some dainty manoeuvring two of the sailors
gained foothold and slung the ropes so that the remainder of the
disembarcation was simple. Nor was the ascent of the cliff a harsh task.
Half an hour after the landing the exploring party stood on the summit of
the hill, where the black flag waved over a scene of utter desolation. The
vegetation was withered to pallid rags: even the tiniest weedling in the
rock crevices had been poisoned by the devastating blast.
In the midst of that deathly scene, the flag seemed instinct with a
sinister liveliness. Whoever had set it there had accurately chosen the
highest available point on that side of the island, the spot of all others
where it would make good its signal to the eye of any chance farer upon
those shipless seas. For the staff a ten-foot sapling, finely polished,
served. A mound of rock-slabs supported it firmly. Upon the cloth itself
was no design. It was of a dull black, the hue of soot. Captain Parkinson,
standing a few yards off, viewed it with disfavour.
"Furl that flag," he ordered.
Congdon, the coxswain of the gig, stepped forward and began to work at the
fastenings. Presently he turned a grinning face to the captain, who was
scanning the landscape through his glass.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," he said.
"Well, what is it?" demanded Captain Parkinson.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir, that ain't rightly no flag. That's what you
might rightly call a garment, sir. It's an undershirt, beggin' your
"Black undershirt's a new one to me," muttered Trendon.
"No, sir. It ain't rightly black, look."
Wrenching the object from its fastenings, he flapped it violently. A cloud
of sooty dust, beaten out, spread about his face. With a strangled cry the
sailor cast the shirt from him and rolled in agony upon the ground.
"You fool!" cried Trendon. "Stand back, all of you."
Opening his medicine case, he bent over the racked sufferer. Presently the
man sat up, pale and abashed.
"That's how poisonous volcanic gas is," said the surgeon to his commanding
officer. "Only inhaled remnants of the dust, too."
"An ill outlook for the man we're seeking," the captain mused.
"Dead if he's anywhere on this highland," declared Trendon. "Let's look at
his flag-pole."
He examined the staff. "Came from the beach," he pronounced. "Waterworn.
H'm! Maybe he ain't so dead, either."
"I don't quite follow you, Dr. Trendon."
"Why, I guess our man has figured this thing all out. Brought this pole up
from the beach to plant it here. Why? Because this was the best
observation point. No good as a permanent residence, though. Planted his
flag and went back."
"Why didn't we see him on the beach, then?"
"Did you notice a cave around to the north? Good refuge in case of fumes."
"It's worth trying," said the captain, putting up his glass.
"Hold on, sir. What's this? Here's something. Look here."
Trendon pointed to a small bit of wood rather neatly carved to the shape
of an indicatory finger, and lashed to the staff, at the height of a man's
face. The others clustered around.
"Oh, the devil!" cried Trendon. "It must have got twisted. It's pointing
straight down."
"Strange performance," said the captain. "However, since it points that
way--heave aside those rocks, men."
The first slab lifted brought to light a corner of cardboard. This, on
closer examination, proved to be the cover of a book. The rocks rolled
right and left, and as the flag-staff, deprived of its support, tottered
and fell, the trove was dragged forth and handed to the captain. While the
ground jarred with occasional tremors and the mountain puffed forth its
vaporous threats, he and the surgeon, seated on a rock, gave themselves
with complete absorption to the reading.
Outwardly the book accorded ill with its surroundings. In that place of
desolation and death, it typified the petty neatness of office processes.
Properly placed, it should have been found on a desk, with pens, rulers,
and other paraphernalia forming exact angles or parallels to it. It was a
quarto, bound in marbled paper, with black leather over the hinges. No
external label suggested its ownership or uses, but through one corner,
blackened and formidable in its contrast to the peaceful purposes of the
volume, a hole had been bored. The agency of perforation was obvious. A
bullet had made it.
"Seen something of life, I reckon," said Trendon, as the captain turned
the volume about slowly in his hands.
"And of death," returned Captain Parkinson solemnly. "Do you know,
Trendon, I almost dread to open this."
"Pshaw!" returned the other. "What is it to us?"
He threw the cover back. Neatly lettered on the inside, in the fine and
slightly angular writing characteristic of the Teutonic scholar, was the
    Karl Augustus Schermerhorn,
        1409-1/2 Spruce Street,
            Philadelphia, Pa.
[Illustration: With a strangled cry the sailor cast the shirt from him]
The opposite page was blank. Captain Parkinson turned half a dozen leaves.
"German!" he cried, in a note of disappointment, "Can you read German
"After a fashion," replied the other. "Let's see. _Es wonnte sechs--und--
dreissig unterjacke_," he read. "Why, blast it, was the man running a
haberdashery? What have three dozen undershirts to do with this?"
"A memorandum for outfitting, probably," suggested the captain. "Try
"Chemical formulae," said Trendon. "Pages of 'em. The devil! Can't make a
thing of it."
"Well, here's something in English."
"Good," said the other. "_By combining the hyper-sulphate of iridium with
the fumes arising from oxide of copper heated to 1000 C. and combining
with picric acid in the proportions described in formula x 18, a reaction,
the nature of which I have not fully determined, follows. This must be
performed with extreme care owing to the unstable nature of the benzene
compounds._"
"Picric acid? Benzene compounds? Those are high explosives," said Captain
Parkinson. "We should have Barnett go over this."
"Here's a name under the formula. _Dr. A. Mardenter, Ann Arbor, Mich_.
That explains its being in English. Probably copied from a letter."
"This must have been one of the experiments in the valley that Slade told
us of," said the captain, thoughtfully. "Why, see here," he cried, with
something like exultation. "That's what Dr. Schermerhorn was doing here.
He has the clue to some explosive so terrific that he goes far out of the
world to experiment with its manufacture. For companions he chooses a gang
of cutthroats that the world would never miss in case anything went wrong.
Possibly it was some trial of the finished product that started the
eruption, even. Do you see?"
"Don't explain enough," grunted Trendon. "Deserted ship. Billy Edwards.
Mysterious lights. Slade and his story. Any explosives in those? Good
enough, far as it goes. Don't go far enough."
"It certainly leaves gaps," admitted the other.
He turned over a few more pages.
"Formulas, formulas, formulas. What's this? Here are some marginal
annotations."
"Unbehasslich," read Trendon. "Let's see. That means 'highly
unsatisfactory,' or words to that effect. Hi! Here's where the old man
loses his temper. Listen: _'May the devil take Carroll and Crum for
careless'_--h'm--well, _'pig-dogs.'_ Now, where do Carroll and Crum come
"They're a firm of analytical chemists in Washington," said the captain.
"When I was on the ordnance board I used to get their circulars."
"Fits in. What? More English? Worse than the German, this is."
The writing, beginning evenly enough at the top of a page, ran along for a
line or two, then fell, sprawling in huge, ragged characters the full
length. Trendon stumbled among them, indignantly.
"_June 1, 1904_," he read. "_It is done. Triumph_. (German word.) _Eureka.
Es ist gefillt. From the_ (can't make out that word) _of the
inspiration--god-like power--solution of the world-problems_. Why, the
old fool is crazy! And his writing is crazier. Can't make head or tail of
The captain turned several more pages. They were blank. "At any rate, it
seems to be the end," he said.
"I should hope so," returned the other, disgustedly.
He took the book on his knees, fluttering the leaves between thumb and
finger. Suddenly he checked, cast back, and threw the book wide open.
"Here beginneth a new chapter," said he, quietly.
No imaginable chirography could have struck the eye with more of contrast
to the professor's small and nervous hand. Large, rounded, and rambling,
it filled the page with few and careless words.
_June 2, 1904. On this date I find myself sole occupant and absolute
monarch of this valuable island. This morning I was a member of a
community, interesting if not precisely peaceful. To-night I am the last
leaf. 'All his lovely companions are faded and gone,' the sprightly
Solomon, the psychic Nigger, the amiable Thrackles, the cheerful Perdosa,
the genial Pulz, and the high-minded Eagen. Undoubtedly the social
atmosphere has cleared; moreover, I am for the first time in my life a
landed proprietor. Item: several square miles of grass land; item: several
dozen head of sheep; item: a cove full of fish; item: a handsomely
decorated cave; item: a sportive though somewhat unruly volcano. At times,
it may be, I shall feel the lack of company. The seagulls alone are not
distrustful of me. Undoubtedly the seagull is an estimable creature, but
he leaves something to be desired in the way of companionship. Hence this
diary, the inevitable refuge of the empty-minded. Materially, I shall do
well enough, though I face one tragic circumstance. My cigarette material,
I find, is short. Upon counting up--"_
"Damn his cigarettes!" cried the surgeon. "This must be Darrow. Finicky
beast! Let's see if it's signed."
He whirled the leaves over to the last sheet, glanced at it, and sprang to
his feet. There, sprawled in tremulous characters, as by a hand shaken
with agony or terror, was written:
    _Look for me in the cave.
                         Percy Darrow._
The bullet hole in the corner furnished a sinister period to the
Trendon handed the ledger back to the captain, who took one quick look,
closed it, and handed it to Congdon.
"Wrap that up and carry it carefully," he said.
"Aye, aye, sir," said the coxswain, swathing it in his jacket and tucking
it under his arm.
"Now to find that cave," said Captain Parkinson to the surgeon.
"The cave in the cliff, of course," said Trendon. "Noticed it coming in,
"On the north shore, about a mile to the east of here."
"Then we'll cut directly across."
"Beg your pardon, sir," put in Congdon, "but I don't think we can make it
from this side, sir."
"No beach, sir, and the cliff's like the side of a ship. Looks to be deep
water right into the cave's mouth."
"Back to the boat, then. Bring that flag along."
The descent was swift, at times reckless, but the party embarked without
accident. Soon they were forging through the water at racing speed, the
boat leaping to the impulsion of the sailorman's strongest motives,
curiosity and the hope of saving a life.
THE TWIN SLABS
Within half an hour the gig had reached the mouth of the cave. As the
coxswain had predicted, the seas ran into the lofty entrance. Elsewhere
the surf fell whitely, but through the arch the waves rolled unbroken into
a heavy stillness. Only as the boat hovered for a moment at the face of
the cliff could the exploring party hear, far within, the hollow boom that
told of breakers on a distant, subterranean beach.
"Run her in easy," came the captain's order. "Keep a sharp lookout for
hidden rocks."
To the whispering plash of the oars they moved from sunlight into
twilight, from twilight into darkness. Of a sudden the oars jerked
convulsively. A great roar had broken upon the ears of the sailors; the
invisible roof above them, the water heaving beneath them, the walls that
hemmed them in, called, with a multiplication of resonance, upon the name
of Darrow. The boat quivered with the start of its occupants. Then one or
two laughed weakly as they realised that what they had heard was no
supernatural voice. It was the captain hailing for the marooned man.
No vocal answer came. But an indeterminable space away they could hear a
low splash followed by a second and a third. Something coughed weakly in
front and to the right. Trendon's hand went to his revolver. The men sat,
stiffened. One of them swore, in a whisper, and the oath came back upon
them, echoing the name of the Saviour in hideous sibilance.
"Silence in the boat," said the captain, in such buoyant tones that the
men braced themselves against the expected peril.
"Light the lantern and pass it to me," came the order. "Keep below the
gunwale, men."
As the match spluttered: "Do you see something, a few rods to port?" asked
the captain in Trendon's ear.
"Pair of green lights," said Trendon. "Eyes. _Seals!_"
"_Seals! Seals! Seals_!" shouted the walls, for the surgeon had suddenly
released his voice. And as the mockery boomed, the green lights
disappeared and there was more splashing from the distance. The crew sat
The lantern spread its radiance. It was reflected from battlements of
fairy beauty. Everywhere the walls were set, as with gems, in broad wales
of varied and vivid hues. Dazzled at first, the explorers soon were able
to discern the general nature of the subterranean world which they had
entered. In most places the walls rose sheer and unscaleable from the
water. In others, turretted rocks thrust their gleaming crags upward. Over
to starboard a little beach shone with Quaker greyness in that spectacular
display. The end of the cavern was still beyond the area of light.
"Must have been a swimmer to get in here," commented Trendon, glancing at
"Unless he had a boat," said the captain. "But why doesn't he answer?"
"Better try again. No telling how much more there is of this."
The surgeon raised his ponderous bellow, and the cave roared again with
the summons. Silence, formidable and unbroken, succeeded.
"House to house search is now in order," he said. "Must be in here
somewhere--unless the seals got him."
Cautiously the boat moved forward. Once she grazed on a half submerged
rock. Again a tiny islet loomed before her. Scattered bones glistened on
the rocky shore, but they were not human relics. Occasional beaches
tempted a landing, but all of these led back to precipitous cliffs except
one, from the side of which opened two small caves. Into the first the
lantern cast its glare, revealing emptiness, for the arch was wide and the
cave shallow. The entrance to the other was so narrow as to send a visitor
to his knees. But inside it seemed to open out. Moreover, there were fish
bones at the entrance. The captain, the surgeon, and Congdon, the
coxswain, landed. Captain Parkinson reached the spot first. Stooping, he
thrust his head in at the orifice. A sharp exclamation broke from him. He
rose to his feet, turning a contorted face to the others.
"Poisonous," he cried.
"More volcano," said Trendon. He bent to the black hole and sniffed
"I'll go in, sir," volunteered Congdon. "I've had fire-practice."
"My business," said Trendon, briefly. "Decomposition; unpleasant, but not
Pushing the lantern before him, he wormed his way until the light was
blotted out. Presently it shone forth from the funnel, showing that the
explorer had reached the inner open space. Captain Parkinson dropped down
and peered in, but the evil odour was too much for him. He retired,
gagging and coughing. Trendon was gone for what seemed an interminable
time. His superior officer fidgeted uneasily. At last he could stand it no
"Dr. Trendon, are you all right?" he shouted.
"Yup," answered a choked voice. "Cubbing oud dow."
Again the funnel was darkened. A pair of feet appeared; then the surgeon's
chunky trunk, his head, and the lantern. Once, twice, and thrice he
inhaled deeply.
"Phew!" he gasped. "Thought I was tough, but--Phee-ee-ee-ew!"
"Did you find--"
"No, sir. Not Darrow. Only a poor devil of a seal that crawled in there to
The exploration continued. Half a mile, as they estimated, from the open,
they reached a narrow beach, shut off by a perpendicular wall of rock.
Skirting this, they returned on the other side, minutely examining every
possible crevice. When they again reached the light of day, they had
arrived at the certain conclusion that no living man was within those
"Would a corpse rise to the surface soon in waters such as these, Dr.
Trendon?" asked the captain.
"Might, sir. Might not. No telling that."
The captain ruminated. Then he beat his fist on his knee.
"The other cave!"
"What other cave?" asked the surgeon.
"The cave where they killed the seals."
"Surely!" exclaimed Trendon. "Wait, though. Didn't Slade say it was
between here and the point?"
"Yes. Beyond the small beach."
"No cave there," declared the surgeon positively.
"There must be. Congdon, did you see an opening anywhere in the cliff as
we came along?"
"No, sir. This is the only one, sir."
"We'll see about that," said the captain, grimly. "Head her about. Skirt
the shore as near the breakers as you safely can."
The gig retraced its journey.
"There's the beach, as Slade described it," said Captain Parkinson, as
they came abreast of the little reach of sand.
"And what are those two bird-roosts on it?" asked Trendon. "See 'em? Dead
against that patch of shore-weed."
"Bits of wreckage fixed in the sand."
"Don't think so, sir. Too well matched."
"We have no time to settle the matter now," said the captain impatiently.
"We must find that cave, if it is to be found."
Hovering just outside the final drag of the surf, under the skilful
guidance of Congdon, the boat moved slowly along the line of beach to the
line of cliff. All was open as the day. The blazing sun picked out each
detail of jut and hollow. Evidently the poisonous vapours from the volcano
had not spread their blight here, for the face of the precipice was bright
with many flowers. So close in moved the boat that its occupants could
even see butterflies fluttering above the bloom. But that which their
eager eyes sought was still denied them. No opening offered in that
smiling cliff-side. Not by so much as would admit a terrier did the mass
of rock and rubble gape.
"And Slade described the cave as big enough to ram the _Wolverine_ into,"
muttered Trendon.
Up to the point of the headland, and back, passed the boat. Blank
disappointment was the result.
"What is your opinion now, Dr. Trendon?" asked the captain of the older
"Don't know, sir," answered the surgeon hopelessly. "Looks as if the cave
might have been a hallucination."
"I shall have something to say to Mr. Slade on our return," said the
captain crisply. "If the cave was an hallucination, as you suggest, the
seal-murder was fiction."
"Looks so," agreed the other.
"And the murder of the captain. How about that?"
"And the mutiny of the men," added the surgeon.
"And the killing of the doctor. Your patient seems to be a romantic
"And the escape of Darrow. Hold hard," quoth Trendon. "Darrow's no
romance. Nothing fictional about the flag and ledger."
"True enough," said the captain, and fell to consideration.
"Anyway," said Trendon vigorously, "I'd like to have a look at those bird-
roosts. Mighty like signposts, to my mind."
"Very well," said the captain. "It'll cost us only a wetting. Run her in,
With all the coxswain's skill, and the oarsmen's technique, the passage of
the surf was a lively one, and little driblets of water marked the trail
of the officers as they shuffled up the beach.
The two slabs stood less than fifty yards beyond high water tide. Nearing
them, the visitors saw that each marked a mound, but not until they were
close up could they read the neat carving on the first. It ran as follows:
            _Here lies_
           SOLOMON ANDERSON
              _alias_
            HANDY SOLOMON
    _who murdered his employer,
    his captain, and his shipmates,
    and was found, dead
    of his deserts, on these shores,
    June 5, 1904.
    This slab is erected as a
    memento of admiring esteem
               by
    the last of his victims.
    "And you can kiss the
    Book on that."_
"Percy Darrow _fecit_," said the surgeon. "You can kiss the Book on
_that_, too."
"Then Slade was telling the truth!"
"Apparently. Seems good corroboration."
The captain turned to the other mound. Its slab was carved by the same
  _Sacred to the memory of an
  Ensign of the U. S. Navy,
  whose body, washed upon this
  coast, is here buried with all
  reverence, by strange hands;
  whose soul may God rest.
  "The seas shall sing his
  requiem." June the Sixth,
"Billy Edwards," said the captain, very low.
He uncovered. The surgeon did likewise. So, for a space, they stood with
bared heads between the twin graves.
THE PINWHEEL VOLCANO
The surgeon spoke first.
"Another point," said he. "Darrow was alive within a few days."
Captain Parkinson turned slowly away from the grave. "You are right," he
said, with an effort. "Our business is with the living now. The dead must
"Hide and seek," growled Trendon. "If he's here why don't he show
The other shook his head.
"Place is all trampled up with his footprints," said Trendon. "He's
plodded back and forth like a prisoner in a cell."
"The ledger," said the captain. "I'd forgotten it. That grave drove
everything else out of my mind."
"Bring the book here," called Trendon.
Congdon unwrapped it from his jacket and handed it to him. The sailors
cast curious glances at the two headstones.
"Mount guard over Mr. Edwards's grave," commanded the captain.
The coxswain saluted and gave an order. One of the sailors stepped forward
to the first mound.
"Not that one," rasped the officer. "The other."
The man saluted and moved on.
"With your permission, sir," said Trendon.
On a nod from his superior officer he opened the ledger and took up
Darrow's record.
"Here it is. Entry of June 3d."
"_Everything lovely. Schooner lost to sight. Query--to memory dear? Not
exactly. Though I shouldn't mind having her under orders for a few days.
Queer glow in the sky last night: if they've been investigating they may
have got what's coming to them. Volcano exhibiting fits of temper. Spouted
out considerable fire about nine o'clock. Quite spectacular, but no harm
done. Can foresee short rations of tobacco. Lava in valley still too hot
for comfort. No sign of Dr. Schermerhorn. Still sleep on beach_.
"Not much there," sniffed Trendon. "Go on," said the captain.
"_June 3. Evening. Thick and squally weather again. Local atmospheric
conditions seem upset. Volcano still leading strenuous life. Climbed the
headland this afternoon. Wind very shifty. Got an occasional whiff of
volcanic output. One in particular would have sent a skunk to the camphor
bottle. No living on the headland. Will explore cave to-morrow with a view
to domicile. Have come down to an allowance of seven cigarettes per diem.
"June 4. Explored cave to-day. Full of dead seals. Not only dead, but all
bitten and cut to pieces. Must have been lively doings in Seal-Town. Not
much choice between air in the cave and vapours from the volcano. Barring
seals, everything suitable for light housekeeping, such as mine. Undertook
to clean house. Dragged late lamented out into the water. Some sank and
were swept away by the sea-puss. Others, I regret to say, floated. Found
trickle of fresh water in depth of cave, and little sand-ledge to sleep
on. So far, so good: we may be 'appy yet. If only I had my cigarette
supply. Once heard a botanist say that leaves of the white shore-willow
made fair substitute for tobacco. Fair substitute for nux vomica! Would
like to interview said botanist_.
"The fellow is a tobacco maniac," growled Trendon, feeling in his breast
pocket. "The devil," he cried, bringing forth an empty hand.
Silently the captain handed him a cigar. "Thank you, sir," he said,
lighted it, and continued reading.
"_June 5. Had a caller to-day. Climbed the headland this morning. Found
volcano taking a day off. Looking for sign of _Laughing Lass_, noticed
something heliographing to me from the waves beyond the reef. Seemed to be
metal. I guessed a tin can. Caught in the swirl, it rounded the cape, and
I came down to the shore to meet it. Halfway down the cliff I had a better
view. I saw it was not a tin can. There was a dark body under it, which
the waves were tossing about, and as the metal moved with the body, it
glinted in the sun. Suddenly it was borne in upon me that an arm was doing
the signalling, waving to me with a sprightly, even a jocular
friendliness. Then I saw what it really was. It was Handy Solomon and his
steel hook. He was riding quite high. Every now and again he would bow and
wave. He grounded gently on the sand beach. I planted him promptly. First,
however, I removed a bag of tobacco from his pocket. Poor stuff, and water
soaked, but still tobacco. Spent a quiet afternoon carving a headstone for
the dear departed. Pity it were that virtues so shining should be
uncommemorated. Idle as the speculation is, I wonder who my next visitor
will be. Thrackles, I hope. Evidently some of them have been playing the
part of Pandora. Spent last night in the cave. Air quite fresh.
"June 6. Saw the glow again last night."_
The surgeon paused in his reading. "That would be the night of the 5th:
the night before we picked her up empty."
"Yes," agreed Captain Parkinson. "That was the night Billy Edwards--Go
"_Saw the glow again last night. Don't understand it. Once should have
been enough for them. This matter of hoarding tobacco may be a sad error.
If Old Spitfire keeps on the way she has to-day I shan't need much more.
It would be a raw jest to be burned or swallowed up with a month's supply
of unsmoked cigarettes on one. Cave getting shaky. Still, I think I'll
stick there. As between being burned alive and buried alive, I'm for the
respectable and time honoured fashion of interment. Bombardment was mostly
to the east to-day, but no telling when it may shift.
"June 7. This morning I found a body rolling in the surf. It was the body
of a young man, large and strongly built, dressed in the uniform of an
ensign of our navy. Surely a strange visitor to these shores! There was no
mark of identification upon him except a cigarette case graven with an
undecipherable monogram in Tiffany's most illegible style of arrow-headed
inscription. This I buried with him, and staked the grave with a
headboard. An officer and a gentleman, a youth of friendly ways and kindly
living, if one may judge by the face of the dead; and he comes by the same
end to the same goal as Handy Solomon. Why not? And why should one
philosophise in a book that will never be read? Hold on! Perhaps--just
perhaps--it may be read. The officer was not long dead. Ensigns of the U.
S. navy do not wander about untraversed waters alone. There must be a
warship somewhere in the vicinity. But why, then, an unburied officer
floating on the ocean? I will smoke upon this, luxuriously and
plentifully. (Later.) No use. I can't solve it. But one thing I do. I put
up a signal pole on the headland and cache this record under it this
afternoon. From day to day, with the kindly permission of the volcano, I
will add to it.... Bad doings by Old Spitfire. The cloud is coming down on
me. Also seems to be moving along the cliff. I will retire hastily to my
private estate in the cave_.
"That's all, except the scrawl on the last page," said Trendon. "Some
action of the volcano scared him off. He just had time to scrawl that last
message and drop the book into the cache. The question is, did he get back
"I doubt it," said the captain. "We will search the headland for his
"But the cave," insisted the surgeon. "We ought to have found some sign of
"Slade is the solution," said the captain. "We must ask him."
They put back to the ship. Barnett was anxiously awaiting them.
"Your patient has been in a bad way, Dr. Trendon," he said.
"What's wrong?" asked Trendon, frowning.
"He came up on deck, wild-eyed and staggering. There was a sheet of paper
in his hand which seemed to have some bearing on his trouble. When he
found you had gone to the island without him he began to rage like a
maniac. I had to have him carried down by force. In the rumpus the paper
disappeared. I assumed the responsibility of giving him an opiate."
"Quite right," approved Trendon. "I'll go down. Will you come with me,
sir?" he said to the captain.
They found Slade in profound slumber.
"Won't do to wake him now," growled Trendon. "Hello, what's here?"
Lying in the hollow of the sick man's right hand, where it had been
crushed to a ball, was a crumpled mass of tracing paper. Trendon smoothed
it out, peered at it and passed it to the captain.
"It's a sketch of an Indian arrow-head," he exclaimed in surprise, at the
first glance. "What are all these marks?"
"Map of the island," barked Trendon. "Look here."
The drawing was a fairly careful one, showing such geographical points as
had been of concern to the two-year inhabitants. There was the large
cavern, indicated as they had found it, and at a point between it and the
headland the legend, "Seal Cave."
"But it's wrong," cried Captain Parkinson, setting finger to the spot. "We
passed there twice. There's no opening."
"No guarantee that there may not have been," returned the other. "This
island has been considerably shaken up lately. Entrance may have been
closed by a landslide down the cliff. Noticed signs myself, but didn't
think of it in connection with the cave."
"That's work for Barnett, then," said the captain, brightening. "We'll
blow up the whole face of the cliff, if necessary, but we'll get at that
He hurried out. Order followed order, and soon the gig, with the captain,
Trendon, and the torpedo expert, was driving for the point marked "Seal
Cave" on the map over which they were bent.
MR. DARROW RECEIVES
"You say the last entry is June 7th?" asked Barnett, as the boat entered
the light surf.
Trendon nodded.
"That was the night we saw the last glow, and the big burst from the
volcano, wasn't it?"
"The island would have been badly shaken up."
"Not so violently but that the flag-pole stood," said the captain.
"That's true, sir. But there's been a good deal of volcanic gas going. The
man's been penned up for four days."
"Give the fellow a chance," growled Trendon. "Air may be all right in the
cave. Good water there, too. Says so himself. By Slade's account he's a
pretty capable citizen when it comes to looking after himself. Wouldn't
wonder if we'd find him fit as a fiddle."
"There was no clue to Ives and McGuire?" asked Barnett presently.
"None." It was the captain who answered.
The gig grated, and the tide being high, they waded to the base of the
cliff, Barnett carrying his precious explosives aloft in his arms.
"Here's the spot," said the captain. "See where the water goes in through
those crevices."
"Opening at the top, too," said Trendon.
He let out his bellow, roaring Darrow's name.
"I doubt if you could project your voice far into a cave thus blocked,"
said Captain Parkinson. "We'll try this."
He drew his revolver and fired. The men listened at the crevices of the
rock. No sound came from within.
"Your enterprise, Mr. Barnett," said the commander, with a gesture which
turned over the conduct of the affair to the torpedo expert.
Barnett examined the rocks with enthusiasm.
"Looks like moderately easy stuff," he observed. "See how the veins run.
You could almost blow a design to order in that."
"Yes; but how about bringing down the whole cave?"
"Oh, of course there's always an element of uncertainty when you're
dealing with high explosives," admitted the expert. "But unless I'm
mistaken, we can chop this out as neat as with an axe."
Dropping his load of cartridges carelessly upon a flat rock which
projected from the water, he busied himself in a search along the face of
the cliff. Presently, with an "Ah," of satisfaction, he climbed toward a
hand's breadth of platform where grew a patch of purple flowers.
"Throw me up a knife, somebody," he called.
"Take notice," said Trendon, good-naturedly, "that I'm the botanist of
this expedition."
"Oh, you can have the flowers. All I want is what they grow in."
Loosening a handful of the dry soil, he brought it down and laid it with
the explosives. Next he called one of the sailors to "boost" him, and was
soon perched on the flat slant of a huge rock which formed, as it were,
the keystone to the blockade.
"Let's see," he ruminated. "We want a slow charge for this. One that will
exert a widespread pressure without much shattering force. The No. 3, I
"How is that, Mr. Barnett?" asked the captain, with lively interest.
"You see, sir," returned the demonstrator, perched high, like a sculptor
at work on some heroic masterpiece, "what we want is to split off this
rock." He patted the flank of the huge slab. "There's a lovely vein
running at an angle inward from where I sit. Split that through, and the
rock should roll, of its own weight, away from the entrance. It's held
only by the upper projection that runs under the arch here."
"Neat programme," commented Trendon, with a tinge of sardonic scepticism.
"Wait and see," retorted Barnett blithely, for he was in his element now.
"I'll appoint you my assistant. Just toss me up that cartridge: the third
one on the left."
The surgeon recoiled.
"Supposing you don't catch it?"
"Well, supposing I don't."
"It's dynamite, isn't it?"
"Something of the same nature. Joveite, it's called."
Still the surgeon stared at him. Barnett laughed.
"Oh, you've got the high explosives superstition," he said lightly.
"Dynamite don't go off as easy as people think. You could drop that stuff
from the cliffhead without danger. Have I got to come down for it?"
With a wry face Trendon tossed up the package. It was deftly caught.
"Now wet that dirt well. Put it in the canvas bag yonder, and send one of
the men up with it. I'm going to make a mud pie."
Breaking the package open, he spread the yellow powder in a slightly
curving line along the rock. With the mud he capped this over, forming a
little arched roof.
"To keep it from blowing away," surmised Trendon.
"No; to make it blow down instead of blowing up."
"Oh, rot!" returned the downright surgeon. "That pound of dirt won't make
the shadow of a feather's difference."
"Won't it!" retorted the other. "Curious thing about high explosives. A
mud-cap will hold down the force as well as a ton of rock. Wait and see
what happens to the rock beneath."
He slid off his perch into the ankle-deep water and waded out to the boat.
Here he burrowed for a moment, presently emerging with a box. This he
carried gingerly to a convenient rock and opened. First he lifted out some
soft padding. A small tin box honey-combed inside came to light. With
infinite precaution Barnett picked out an object that looked like a 22-
calibre short cartridge, wadded some cotton batten in his hand, set the
thing in the wadding, laid it on the rock, carefully returned the small
box to the large box and the large box to the boat, took up the cartridge
again and waded back to the cliff. They watched him in silence.
"This is the little devil," he said, indicating his delicate burden.
"Fulminate of mercury. This is the stuff that'll remove your hand with
neatness and despatch. It's the quickest tempered little article in the
business. Just give it one hard look and it's off."
"Here," said Trendon, "I resign. From now on I'm a spectator."
Barnett swung the fulminate in his handkerchief and gave it to a sailor to
hold. The man dandled it like a new-born infant. Back to his rock went
Barnett. Producing some cord, he let down an end.
"Tie the handkerchief on, and get out of the way," he directed.
With painful slowness the man carried out the first part of the order; the
latter half he obeyed with sprightly alacrity. Very slowly, very
delicately, the expert drew in his dangerous burden. Once a current of air
puffed it against the face of the rock, and the operator's head was
hastily withdrawn. Nothing happened. Another minute and he had the tiny
shell in hand. A fuse was fixed in it and it was shoved under the mud-cap.
Barnett stood up.
"Will you kindly order the boat ready, Captain Parkinson?" he called.
The order was given.
"As soon as I light the fuse I will come down and we'll pull out fifty
yards. Leave the rest of the Joveite where it is. All ready? Here goes."
He touched a match to the fuse. It caught. For a moment he watched it.
"Going all right," he reported, as he struck the water. "Plenty of time."
Some seventy yards out they rested on their oars. They waited. And waited.
"It's out," grunted Trendon.
From the face of the cliff puffed a cloud of dust. A thudding report
boomed over the water. Just a wisp of whitish-grey smoke arose, and
beneath it the great rock, with a gapping seam across its top, rolled
majestically outward, sending a shower of spray on all sides, and opening
to their eager view a black chasm into the heart of the headland. The
experiment had worked out with the accuracy of a geometric problem.
"That's all, sir," Barnett reported officially.
"Magic! Modern magic!" said the captain. He stared at the open door. For
the moment the object of the undertaking was forgotten in the wonder of
its exact accomplishment.
"Darrow'll think an earthquake's come after him," remarked Trendon.
"Give way," ordered the captain.
The boat grated on the sand. Captain Parkinson would have entered, but
Barnett restrained him.
"It's best to wait a minute or two," he advised. "Occasionally slides
follow an explosion tardily, and the gases don't always dissipate
Where they stood they could see but a short way into the cave. Trendon
squatted and funnelled his hands to one eye.
[Illustration: "Sorry not to have met you at the door," he said
courteously.]
"There's fire inside," he said.
In a moment they all saw it, a single, pin-point glow, far back in the
blackness, a Cyclopean eye, that swayed as it approached. Alternately it
waned and brightened. Suddenly it illuminated the dim lineaments of a
face. The face neared them. It joined itself to reality by a very solid
pair of shoulders, and a man sauntered into the twilit mouth of the
cavern, removed a cigarette from his lips, and gave them greeting.
"Sorry not to have met you at the door," he said, courteously. "It was you
that knocked, was it not? Yes? It roused me from my siesta."
They stared at him in silence. He blinked in the light, with unaccustomed
"You will pardon me for not asking you in at once. Past circumstances have
rendered me--well--perhaps suspicious is not too strong a word."
They noticed that he held a revolver in his hand.
Captain Parkinson came forward a step. The host half raised his weapon.
Then he dropped it abruptly.
"Navy men!" he said, in an altered voice. "I beg your pardon. I could not
see at first. My name is Percy Darrow."
"I am Captain Parkinson of the United States cruiser _Wolverine_," said
the commander. "This is Mr. Barnett, Mr. Darrow. Dr. Trendon, Mr. Darrow."
They shook hands all around.
"Like some damned silly afternoon tea," Trendon said later, in retailing
it to the mess. A pause followed.
"Won't you step in, gentlemen?" said Darrow, "May I offer you the makings
of a cigarette?"
"Wouldn't you be robbing yourself?" inquired the captain, with a twinkle.
"Oh, you found the diary, then," said Darrow easily. "Rather silly of me
to complain so. But really, in conditions like these, tobacco becomes a
serious problem."
"So one might imagine," said Trendon drily. He looked closely at Darrow.
The man's eyes were light and dancing. From the nostrils two livid lines
ran diagonally. Such lines one might make with a hard blue pencil pressed
strongly into the flesh. The surgeon moved a little nearer.
"Can you give me any news of my friend Thrackles?" asked Darrow lightly.
"Or the esteemed Pulz? Or the scholarly and urbane Robinson of Ethiopian
extraction?"
"Dead," said the captain.
"Ah, a pity," said the other. He put his hand to his forehead. "I had
thought it probable." His face twitched. "Dead? Very good. In fact ...
really ... er ... amusing."
He began to laugh, quite to himself. It was not a pleasant laugh to hear.
Trendon caught and shook him by the shoulder.
"Drop it," he said.
Darrow seemed not to hear him. "Dead, all dead!" he repeated. "And I've
outlasted 'em! God damn 'em, I've outlasted 'em!" And his mirth broke
forth in a strangely shocking spasm.
Trendon lifted a hand and struck him so powerfully between the shoulder
blades that he all but plunged forward on his face.
"Quit it!" he ordered again. "Get hold of yourself!"
Darrow turned and gripped him. The surgeon winced with the pain of his
grasp. "I can't," gasped the maroon, between paroxysms. "I've been living
in hell. A black, shaking, shivering hell, for God knows how long.... What
do you know? Have you ever been buried alive?" And again the agony of
laughter shook him.
"This, then," muttered the doctor, and the hypodermic needle shot home.
During the return Darrow lay like a log in the bottom of the gig. The
opiate had done its work. Consciousness was mercifully dead within him.
THE SURVIVORS
Rest and good food quickly brought Percy Darrow back to his normal poise.
One inspection satisfied Dr. Trendon that all was well with him. He asked
to see the captain, and that gentleman came to Ives's room, which had been
assigned to the rescued man.
"I hope you've been able to make yourself comfortable," said the
commander, courteously.
"It would be strange indeed if I could not," returned Darrow, smiling.
"You forget that you have set a savage down in the midst of luxury."
"Make yourself free of Ives's things," invited Captain Parkinson. "Poor
fellow; he will not use them again, I fear."
"One of your men lost?" asked Darrow. "Ah, the young officer whose body I
found on the beach, perhaps?"
"No; but we have to thank you for that burial," said the captain.
Darrow made a swift gesture. "Oh, if thanks are going," he cried, and
paused in hopelessness of adequate expression.
"This has been a bitter cruise for us," continued the captain. He sighed
and was silent for a moment. "There is much to tell and to be told," he
"Much," agreed the other, gravely.
"You will want to see Slade first, I presume," said the captain.
"One of your officers whom I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting?"
The captain stared. "Slade," he said. "Ralph Slade."
"Apparently there's a missing link. Or--I fear I was not wholly myself
yesterday for a time. Possibly something occurred that I did not quite
"Perhaps we'd better wait," said Captain Parkinson, with obvious
misgiving. "You're not quite rested. You will feel more like--"
"If you don't mind," said Darrow composedly, "I'd like to get at this
thing now. I'm in excellent understanding, I assure you."
"Very well. I am speaking of the man who acted as mate in the _Laughing
Lass_. The journalist who--good heavens! What arrant stupidity! I have to
beg your pardon, Mr. Darrow. It has just occurred to me. He called himself
Eagen with you."
"Eagen! What is this? Is Eagen alive?"
"And on this ship. We picked him up in an open boat."
"And you say he calls himself Slade?"
"He is Ralph Slade, adventurer and journalist. Mr. Barnett knows him and
vouches for him."
"And he was on our island under an assumed name," said Darrow in tones
that had the smoothness and the rasp of silk. "Rather annoying. Not good
form, quite, even for a pirate."
"Yet, I believe he saved your life," suggested the captain.
Darrow looked up sharply. "Why, yes," he admitted. "So he did. I had
hoped--" He checked himself. "I had thought that all of the crew went the
same way. You didn't find any of the others?"
Darrow got to his feet. "I think I'd like to see Eagen--Slade--whatever he
calls himself."
"I don't know," began the captain. "It might not be--" He hesitated and
Darrow drew back a little, misinterpreting the other's attitude. "Do I
understand that I am under restraint?" he asked stiffly.
"Certainly not. Why should you be?"
"Well," returned the other contemplatively, "it really might be regarded
as a subject for investigation. Of course I know only a small part of it.
But there have certainly been suspicious circumstances. Piracy there has
been: no doubt of that. Murder, too, if my intuitions are not at fault. Or
at least, a disappearance to be accounted for. Robbery can't be denied.
And there's a dead body or two to be properly accredited." He looked the
captain in the eye.
"You'll find my story highly unsatisfactory in detail, I fancy. I merely
want to know whether I'm to present it as a defence, or only an
explanation."
"We shall be glad to hear your story when you are ready to tell it--after
you have seen Mr. Slade."
"Thank you," said Darrow simply. "You have heard his?"
"Yes. It needs filling in."
"When may I see him?"
"That's for Dr. Trendon to say. He came to us almost dead. I'll find out."
The surgeon reported Slade much better, but all a-quiver with excitement.
"Hate to put the strain on him," said he. "But he'll be in a fever till he
gets this thing off his mind. Send Mr. Darrow to him."
After a moment's consideration Darrow said: "I should like to have you and
Dr. Trendon present, Captain Parkinson, while I ask Eagen one or two
"Understand one thing, Mr. Darrow," said Trendon briefly. "This is not to
be an inquisition."
"Ah," said Darrow, unmoved. "I'm to be neither defendant nor prosecutor."
"You are to respect the condition of Dr. Trendon's patient, sir," said
Captain Parkinson, with emphasis. "Outside of that, your attitude toward a
man who has twice thought of your life before his own is for you to
No little cynicism lurked in Darrow's tones as he said:
"You have confidence in Mr. Slade, alias Eagen."
"Yes," replied Captain Parkinson, in a tone that closed that topic.
"Still, I should be glad to have you gentlemen present, if only for a
moment," insisted Darrow, presently.
"Perhaps it would be as well--on account of the patient," said the surgeon
significantly.
"Very well," assented the captain.
The three went to Slade's cabin. He was lying propped up in his bunk.
Trendon entered first, followed by the captain, then Darrow.
"Here's your prize, Slade," said the surgeon.
Darrow halted, just inside the door. With an eager light in his face Slade
leaned forward and stretched out his hand.
"I couldn't believe it until I saw you, old man," he cried.
Darrow's eyebrows went up. Before Slade had time to note that there was no
response to his outstretched hand, the surgeon had jumped in and pushed
him roughly back upon his pillow.
"What did you promise?" he growled. "You were to lie still, weren't you?
And you'll do it, or out we go."
"How are you, Eagen?" drawled Darrow.
"Not Eagen. I'm done with that. They've told you, haven't they?"
Darrow nodded. "Are you the only survivor?" he inquired.
"Except yourself."
"The Nigger? Pulz? Thrackles? The captain? All drowned?"
"Not the captain. They murdered him."
"Ah," said Darrow softly. "And you--I beg your pardon--your--er--friends
disposed of the doctor in the same way?"
"Handy Solomon," replied Slade with shaking lips. "Hell's got that fiend,
if there's a hell for human fiends. They threw the doctor's body in the
"You didn't notice whether there were any papers?"
"If there were they must have been destroyed with the body when the lava
poured down the valley into the sea."
"The lava: of course," assented Darrow, with elaborate nonchalance. "Well,
he was a kind old boy. A cheerful, simple, wise old child."
"I would have given my right hand to save him," cried Slade. "It was so
sudden--so damnable--"
"Better to have saved him than me," said Darrow. He spoke with the first
touch of feeling that he exhibited. "I have to thank you for my life,
Eagen--I beg your pardon: Slade. It's hard to remember."
Dr. Trendon arose, and Captain Parkinson with him.
"Give you two hours, Mr. Darrow," said the surgeon. "No more. If he seems
exhausted, give him one of these powders. I'll look in in an hour."
At the end of an hour he returned. Slade was lying back on his pillow.
Darrow was talking, eagerly, confidentially. In another hour he came out.
"The whole thing is clear," he said to Captain Parkinson. "I am ready to
report to you."
"This evening," said the captain. "The mess will want to hear."
"Yes, they will want to hear," assented Darrow. "You've had Slade's story.
I'll take it up where he left off, and he'll check me. Mine's as
incredible as--as Slade's was. And it's as true."
THE MAKER OF MARVELS
As they had gathered to hear Ralph Slade's tale, so now the depleted mess
of the _Wolverine_ grouped themselves for Percy Darrow's sequel. Slade
himself sat directly across from the doctor's assistant. Before him lay a
paper covered with jotted notes. Trendon slouched low in the chair on
Slade's right. Captain Parkinson had the other side. Convenient to
Darrow's hand lay the material for cigarettes. As he talked he rolled
cylinder after cylinder, and between sentences consumed them in long,
satisfying puffs.
"First you will want to learn of the fate of your friends and shipmates,"
he began. "They are dead. One of them, Mr. Edwards, fell to my hands to
bury, as you know. He lies beside Handy Solomon. The others we shall
probably not see: any one of a score of ocean currents may have swept them
far away. The last great glow that you saw was the signal of their
destruction. So the work of a great scientist, a potent benefactor of the
race, a gentle and kindly old heart, has brought about the death of your
friends and of my enemies. The innocent and the guilty ... the murderer
with his plunder, the officer following his duty ... one and the same
end ... a paltry thing our vaunted science is in the face of such tangled
fates." He spoke low and bitterly. Then he squared his shoulders and his
manner became businesslike.
"Interrupt me when any point needs clearing up," he said. "It's a blind
trail at best. You've the right to see it as plain as I can make it--with
Slade's help. Cut right in with your questions: There'll be plenty to
answer and some never will be answered....
"Now let me get this thing laid out clearly in my own mind. You first saw
the glow--let me see--"
"Night of June 2d," said Barnett.
"June 2d," agreed Darrow. "That was the end of Solomon, Thrackles & Co. A
very surprising end to them, if they had time to think," he added grimly.
"Surprising enough, from the survivor's viewpoint," said Slade.
"Doubtless. They've had that story from you; I needn't go over it. This
ship picked up the _Laughing Lass_, deserted, and put your first crew
aboard. That night, was it not, you saw the second pillar of fire?"
Barnett nodded.
"So your men met their death. Then came the second finding of the empty
schooner.... Captain Parkinson, they must have been brave men who faced
the unknown terrors of that prodigy."
"They volunteered, sir," said the Captain, with simple pride.
Darrow bowed with a suggestion of reverence in the slow movement of his
head. "And that night--or was it two nights later?--you saw the last
appearance of the portent. Well, I shall come to that.... Slade has told
you how they lived on the beach. With us in the valley it was different.
Almost from the first I was alone. The doctor ceased to be a companion. He
ceased to be human, almost. A machine, that's what he was. His one human
instinct was--well, distrust. His whole force of being was centred on his
discovery. It was to make him the foremost scientist of the world; the
foremost individual entity of his time--of all time, possibly. Even to
outline it to you would take too much time. Light, heat, motive power in
incredible degrees and under such control as has never been known: these
were to be the agencies at his call. The push of a button, the turn of a
screw--oh, he was to be master of such power as no monarch ever wielded!
Riches--pshaw! Riches were the least of it. He could create them,
practically. But they would be superfluous. Power: unlimited, absolute
power was his goal. With his end achieved he could establish an autocracy,
a dynasty of science: whatever he chose. Oh, it was a rich-hued, golden,
glowing dream; a dream such as men's souls don't formulate in these stale
days--not our kind of men. The Teutonic mysticism--you understand. And it
was all true. Oh, quite."
"Do you mean us to understand that he had this power you describe?" asked
Captain Parkinson.
"In his grasp. Then comes a practical gentleman with a steel hook. A
follower of dreams, too, in his way. Conflicting interests--you know how
it is. One well-aimed blow from the more practical dreamer, and the
greater vision passes.... I'm getting ahead of myself. Just a moment."
His cigarette glowed fiercely in the dimness before he took up his tale
"You all know who Dr. Schermerhorn was. None of you know--I don't know
myself, though I've been his factotum for ten years--along how many varied
lines of activity that mind played. One of them was the secret of energy:
concentrated, resistless energy. Man's contrivances were too puny for him.
The most powerful engines he regarded as toys. For a time high explosives
claimed his attention. He wanted to harness them. Once he got to the point
of practical experiment. You can see the ruins yet: a hole in southern New
Jersey. Nobody ever understood how he escaped. But there he was on his
feet across a ten-foot fence in a ploughed field--yes, he flew the fence--
and running, running furiously in the opposite direction, when the dust
cleared away. Someone stopped him finally. Told him the danger was over.
'Yet, I will not return,' he said firmly, and fainted away. That disgusted
him with high explosives. What secrets he discovered he gave to the
government. They were not without value, I believe."
"They were not, indeed," corroborated Barnett.
"Next his interest turned to the natural phenomena of high energy. He
studied lightning in an open steel network laboratory, with few results
save a succession of rheumatic attacks, and an improved electric
interrupter, since adopted by one of the great telegraph companies. The
former obliged him to stop these experiments, and the invention he
considered trivial. Probably the great problem of getting at the secret of
energy led him into his attempts to study the mysterious electrical waves
radiated by lightning flashes; at any rate he was soon as deep into the
subject of electrical science as his countryman, Hertz, had ever been. He
used to tell me that he often wondered why he hadn't taken up this line
before--the world of energy he now set out to explore, waves in that
tremendous range between those we hear and those we see. It was natural
that he should then come to the most prominent radio-active elements,
uranium, thorium, and radium. But though his knowledge surpassed that of
the much-exploited authorities, he was never satisfied with any of his
"'Pitchblende; no!' he would exclaim. 'It has not the great power. The
mines are not deep enough, yet!'
"Then suddenly the great idea that was to bring him success, and cost him
his life, came to him. The bowels of the earth must hold the secret! He
took up volcanoes.... Does all this sound foolish? It was not if you knew
the man. He was a mighty enthusiast, a born martyr. Not cold-blooded, like
the rest of us. The fire was in his veins.... A light, please. Thank you.
"We chased volcanoes. There was a theory under it all. He believed that
volcanic emanations are caused by a mighty and uncomprehended energy,
something that achieves results ascribable neither to explosions nor heat,
some eternal, inner source.... Radium, if you choose, only he didn't call
it that. Radium itself, as known to our modern scientists, he regarded as
the harmless plaything of people with time hanging heavy on their hands.
He wasn't after force in pin-point quantities: he wanted bulk results. Yet
I believe that, after all, what he sought was a sort of higher power of
radium. The phenomena were related. And he had some of that concentrated
essence of pitchblende in the chest when we started. Oh, not much: say
about twenty thousand dollars' worth. Maybe thirty. For use? No; rather
for comparison, I judge.
"Yes, we chased volcanoes. I became used to camping between sample hells
of all known varieties. I got so that the fumes of a sulphur match seemed
like a draught of pure, fresh air. Wherever any of the earth's pimples
showed signs of coming to a head, there were we, taking part in the
trouble. By and by the doctor got so thoroughly poisoned that he had to
lay off. Back to Philadelphia we came. There an aged seafaring person,
temporarily stranded, mulcted the Professor of a dollar--an undertaking
that required no art--and in the course of his recital touched upon yonder
little cesspool of infernal iniquities. An uncharted volcanic island: one
that he could have all for his own; you may guess whether Dr. Schermerhorn
was interested.
"'That iss for which we haf so-long-in-vain sought, Percy,' he said to me
in his quaint, link-chain style of speech. 'A leedle prifate volcano-
laboratory to ourselves to have. Totally unknown: undescribed, not-on-the-
chart-to-be-found. To-morrow we start. I make a list of the things-to-
"He began his list, as I remember, with three dozen undershirts, a gallon
of pennyroyal for insect bites, a box of assorted fish hooks, thirty
pounds of tea, and a case of carpet tacks. When I hadn't anything else to
worry over, I used to lie awake at night and speculate on the purpose of
those carpet tacks. He had something in mind: if there was anything on
which he prided himself, it was his practical bent. But the list never got
any further: it ceased short of one page in the ledger, as you may have
noticed. I outfitted by telegraph on the way across the continent.
"The doctor didn't ask me whether I'd go. He took it for granted. That's
probably why I didn't back out. Nor did I tell him that the three life
insurance companies which had foolishly and trustingly accepted me as a
risk merely on the strength of a good constitution were making frantic
efforts to compromise on the policies. They felt hurt, those companies: my
healthy condition had ceased to appeal to them. What's a good constitution
between earthquakes? No, there was no use telling the doctor. It would
only have worried him. Besides, I didn't believe that the island was
there. I thought it was a myth of that stranded ancient mariner's
imagination. When it rose to sight at the proper spot, none were more
astounded than the bad risk who now addresses you.
"Yet, I must say for the island that it came handsomely up to
specifications. Down where you were, Slade. you didn't get a real insight
into its disposition. But in back of us there was any kind of action for
your money. Geysers, hell-spouts, fuming fissures, cunning little
craterlets with half-portions of molten lava ready to serve hot; more
gases than you could create in all the world's chemical laboratories: in
fact, everything to make the place a paradise for Old Nick--and Dr.
Schermerhorn. He brought along in his precious chest, besides the radium,
some sort of raw material: also, as near as I could make out, a sort of
cage or guardianship scheme for his concentrated essence of cussedness,
when he should get it out of the volcano.
"In the first seven months he puttered around the little fumers, with an
occasional excursion up to the main crater. It was my duty to follow on
and drag him away when he fell unconscious. Sometimes I would try to get
him before he was quite gone. Then he would become indignant, and fight
me. Perhaps that helped to lose me his confidence. More and more he
withdrew into himself. There were days when he spoke no word to me. It was
lonely. Do you know why I used to visit you at the beach, Slade? I suppose
you thought I was keeping watch on you. It wasn't that, it was loneliness.
In a way, it hurt me, too: for one couldn't help but be fond of the old
boy; and at times it seemed as if he weren't quite himself. Pardon me, if
I may trouble you for the matches? Thanks....
"Matters went very wrong at times: the doctor fumed like his little
craters; growled out long-winded, exhaustive German imprecations: wouldn't
even eat. Then again the demon of work would drive him with thong and
spur: he would rush to his craters, to his laboratories, to his ledger for
the purpose of entering unintelligible commentaries. He had some peculiar
contrivance, like a misshapen retort, with which he collected gases from
the craterlets. Whenever I'd hear one of those smash, I knew it was a bad
"Meantime, the volcano also became--well, what you might call
temperamental.
"It got to be a year and a quarter--a year and a half. I wondered whether
we should ever get away. My tobacco was running short. And the bearing of
the men was becoming fidgetty. My visits to the beach became quite
interesting--to me. One day the doctor came running out of his laboratory
with so bright a face that I ventured to ask him about departure.
"'Not so long, now, Percy,' he said, in his old, kind manner. 'Not so
long. The first real success. It iss made. We have yet under-entire-
control to bring it, but it iss made.'
"'And about time, sir,' said I. 'If we don't do something soon we may have
trouble with the men.'
"'So?' said he in surprise. 'But they could do nothing. Nothing.' He
wagged his great head confidently. 'We are armed.'
"'Oh, yes, armed. So are they.'
"'We are armed,' he repeated obstinately. 'Such as no man was ever armed,
are we armed.'
"He checked himself abruptly and walked away. Well, I've since wondered
what would have happened had the men attacked us. It would have been worth
seeing, and--and surprising. Yes: I'm quite certain it would have been
surprising. Perhaps, too, I might have learned more of the Great
Secret ... and yet, I don't know. It's all dark ... a hint
here ... theory ... mere glints of light.... Where did I put.... Ah,
THE ACHIEVEMENT
For some moments Darrow sat gazing fixedly at the table before him. His
cigarette tip glowed and failed. Someone suggested drinks. The captain
asked Darrow what he would have, but the question went unnoted.
"How I passed the next six months I could hardly tell you," he began
again, quite abruptly. "At times I was bored--fearfully bored. Yet the
element of mystery, of uncertainty, of underlying peril, gave a certain
zest to the affair. In the periods of dulness I found some amusement in
visiting the lower camp and baiting the Nigger. Slade will have told you
about him; he possessed quite a fund of bastard Voodooism: he possessed
more before I got through with him. Yes; if he had lived to return to his
country, I fancy he would have added considerably to Afro-American witch-
lore. You remember the vampire bats, Slade? And the devil-fires? Naturally
I didn't mention to you that the devil-fire business wasn't altogether as
clear to me as I pretended. It wasn't, though. But at the time it served
very well as an amusement. All the while I realised that my self-
entertainment was not without its element of danger, too: I remember
glances not altogether friendly but always a little doubtful, a little
awed. Even Handy Solomon, practical as he was, had a scruple or two of
superstition in his make-up, on which one might work. Only Eagen--Slade, I
mean--was beyond me there. You puzzled me not a little in those days,
Slade. Well....
"Did I say that I was sometimes annoyed by the doctor's attitude? Yes: it
seemed that he might have given me a little more of his confidence; but
one can't judge such a man as he was. Among the ordinary affairs of life
he had relied on me for every detail. Now he was independent of me.
Independent! I doubt if he remembered my existence at times. Even in his
blackest moods of depression he was sufficient unto himself. It was
strange.... How he did rage the day the chemicals from Washington went
wrong! I was washing my shirt in the hot water spring when he came bolting
out of the laboratory and keeled me over. I came out pretty indignant.
Apologise? Not at all. He just sputtered. His nearest approach to
coherence seemed to indicate a desire that I should go back to Washington
at once and destroy a perfectly reputable firm of chemists. Finally he
calmed down and took it out in entering it in his daily record. He was
quite proud of that daily record and remembered to write in it on an
average of once a week.
"Then the chest went wrong. Whether it had rusted a bit, or whether the
chemicals had got in their work on the hinges, I don't know; but one day
the Professor, of his own initiative, recognised my existence by lugging
his box out in the open and asking me to fix it. Previously he had emptied
it. It was rather a complicated thing, with an inner compartment over
which was a hollow cover, opening along one rim. That, I conjectured, was
designed to hold some chemical compound or salt. There were many minor
openings, too, each guarded by a similar hollow door. My business was with
the heavy top cover.
"'It should shut and open softly, gently,' explained the Professor. 'So.
Not with-a-grating-sound-to-be-accompanied,' he added, with his curious
effect of linked phraseology.
"Half a day's work fixed it. The lid would stand open of itself until
tipped at a considerable angle, when it would fall and lock. Only on the
outer shell was there a lock: that one was a good bit of craftsmanship.
"'So, Percy, my boy,' said the doctor kindly. 'That will with-sufficient-
safety guard our treasure. When we obtain it, Percy. When it entirely-
finished-and-completed shall be.'
"'And when will that be?' I asked.
"'God knows,' he said cheerfully. 'It progresses.'
"Whenever I went strolling at night, he would produce his curious lights.
Sometimes they were fairly startling. One fact I made out by accident,
looking down from a high place. They did not project from the laboratory.
He always worked in the open when the light was to be produced. Once the
experiment took a serious turn. The lights had flickered and gone. Dr.
Schermerhorn had returned to his laboratory. I came up the arroyo as he
flung the door open and rushed out. He was a grotesque figure, clad in an
undershirt and a worn pair of trousers, fastened with an old bit of tarred
rope in lieu of his suspenders, which I had been repairing. About his
waist flickered a sort of aura of radiance which was extinguished as he
flung himself headforemost into the cold spring. I hauled him out. He
seemed dazed. To my questions he replied only by mumblings, the burden of
"'I do not understand. It is a not-to-be-comprehended accident.' It
appears that he didn't quite know why he had taken to the water. Or if he
did, he didn't want to tell.
"Next day he was as good as new. Just as silent as before, but it was a
smiling, satisfied silence. So it went for weeks, for months, with the
accesses of depression and anger always rarer. Then came an afternoon
when, returning from a stalk after sheep, I heard strange and shocking
noises from the laboratory. Strict as was the embargo which kept me
outside the door, I burst in, only to be seized in a suffocating grip. Of
a sudden I realised that I was being embraced. The doctor flourished a
hand above my head and jigged with ponderous steps. The dismal noises
continued to emanate from his mouth. He was singing. I wish I could give
you a notion of the amazement, the paralysing wonder with which.... No,
you did not know Dr. Schermerhorn: you would not understand....
"We polkaed into the open. There he cast me loose. He stopped singing and
burst into a rhapsody of disjointed words. Mostly German, it was--a
wondrous jumble of the scientific and poetic. 'Eureka' occurred at
intervals. Then he would leap in the air. It was weird, it was
distressing. Crazy? Oh, quite. For the time, you understand. If any of us
should suddenly become the most potent individual in the world, wouldn't
he be apt to lose balance temporarily? One must make allowances. There was
excuse for the doctor. He had reached the goal.
"'Percy, you shall be rewarded,' he said. 'You haf like-a-trump-card stuck
by me. You shall haf riches, gold, what you will. You are young; your
blood runs red. With such riches nothing is beyond you. You could the
ancient-tombs-of-Egypt explore. It is open to you such collections-as-
have-never-been-gathered to make. What shall it be? Scarabs? Missals?
Prehistoric implements? Amuse yourself, _mein kind_. We shall be able the-
bills-with-usurious-interest to pay. What will you haf?'
"I said I'd like a vacation, if convenient.
"'Presently,' he replied. 'There yet remains the guardianship to be
perfected. Then to-a-world-astonished-and-respectful we return. To-night
we celebrate. I play you a rubber of pinochle.'
"We played. With the greatest secret of science resting at our elbows, we
played. The doctor won; my mind was not strictly on the game. In the
morning the doctor sang once more.... I shall never hear its like again.
Was it a week, or a month, after that?... I cannot remember. I fancy I was
excited. Then, too, there was something in the atmosphere about the
laboratory ... I don't know; imagination, possibly. Once we had a little
manifestation: the night that the Nigger and Slade were terrified by the
rock fires. Days of excitement and pleasant work, with the little volcano
grumbling more sulkily all the time ... I have spent worse days.
"Such indifference as the doctor displayed toward the volcano I have never
known. If I ventured to warn him he would assure me that there was no
cause for alarm. I think he regarded that little hell's kitchen as merely
a feed-spout for his vast enterprise. He felt a sort of affection toward
it; he was tolerant of its petty fits of temper. That he completed his
work before the destruction came was sheer luck. Nothing else. The day
before the outburst he came to me with a tiny phial of complicated design.
"'Percy, I will at-a-reasonable-price sell this to you,' he said.
"'How much?' I inquired, responding to his playfulness.
"'A bargain,' he cried gaily. 'Five millions dollars. No! Shall I upon-a-
needy-friend hard-press? Never. One million. One little million dollars.'
"'I haven't that amount with me,' I began.
"'Of no account,' he declared airily. 'Soon we shall haf many more times
as that. Gif me your C.O. D.'
"'My I. O. U.?' I inquired.
"'It makes no matter. See. I will gif it to you gratis.'
"He handed me the metal contrivance. It was closed.
"'Inside iss a little, such a very little. Not yet iss it arranged the
motive-power to give-forth. One more change-to-be-made that shall require.
But the other phenomena are all in this little half-grain comprised. Later
I shall tell you more. Take it. It iss without price.' He laid his hand on
my shoulder. 'Like the love of friends,' he said gently."
Feeling in his upper waistcoat pocket, Darrow brought out a phial, so tiny
that it rolled in the palm of his hand. He contemplated it, lost in
"Radium?" queried Barnett, with the keen interest of the scientist.
"God knows what it is," said Darrow, rousing himself. "Not the perfected
product; the doctor said that when he gave it to me. If I could remember
one-tenth of what he told me that night! It is like a disordered dream, a
phantasmagoria of monstrous powers, lit up with an intolerable, almost an
infernal radiance. This much I did gather: that Dr. Schermerhorn had
achieved what the greatest minds before him had barely outlined. Yes, and
more. Becquerel, the Curies, Rutherford--they were playing with the
letters of the Greek alphabet, Alphas, Gammas, and Rhos, while the simple,
gentle old boy that I served had read the secret. From the molten
eruptions of the racked earth he had taken gases and potencies that are
nameless. By what methods of combination and refining I do not know, he
produced something that was to be the final word of power. Control--
control--that was all that lacked.
"Reduced to its simplest terms, it meant this: the doctor had something as
much greater than radium as radium is greater than the pitchblende of
which a thousand tons are melted down to the one ounce of extract. And the
incredible energies of this he proposed to divide into departments of
activity. One manifestation should be light, a light that would illuminate
the world. Another was to make motive power so cheap that the work of the
world could be done in an hour out of the day. Some idea he had of healing
properties. Yes; he was to cure mankind. Or kill, kill as no man had ever
killed, did he choose. The armies and navies of the powers would be at his
mercy. Magnetism was to be his slave. Aerial navigation, transmutation of
metals, the screening of gravity--does this sound like delirium? Sometimes
I think it was.
"That night he turned over to me the key of the large chest and his
ledger. The latter he bade me read. It was a complete jumble. You have
seen it.... We were up a good part of the night with our pet volcano. It
was suffering from internal disturbances. 'So,' the doctor would say
indulgently, when a particularly active rock came bounding down our way.
'Little play-antics-to-exhibit now that the work iss finished.'
"In the morning he insisted on my leaving him alone and going down to give
the orders. I took the ledger, intending to send it aboard. It saved my
life possibly: Solomon's bullet deflected slightly, I think, in passing
through the heavy paper. Slade has told you about my flight. I ought to
have gone straight up the arroyo.... Yet I could hardly have made it.... I
did not see him again, the doctor. My last glimpse ... the old man--I
remember now how the grey had spread through his beard--he was growing
old--it had been ageing labour. He stood there at his laboratory door and
the mountain spouted and thundered behind.
"'We will a name-to-suit-properly gif it,' he said, as I left him. 'It
shall make us as the gods. We will call it celestium.'
"I left him there smiling. Smiling happily. The greatest force of his
age--if he had lived. Very wise, very simple--a kind old child. May I
trouble you for a light? Thanks."
"Nothing remained but to search for his body. I was sure they had killed
him and taken the chest. I had little expectation of finding him, dead or
alive. None after I saw the stream of lava pouring into the sea. One saves
his own life by instinct, I suppose. There I was. I had to live. It did
not matter much, but I continued to do it by various shifts. That last day
on the headland the fumes nearly got me. You may have noted the rather
excited scrawl in the back of the ledger? Yes, I thought I was gone that
time. But I got to the cave. It was low tide. Then the earthquake, and I
was walled in.... Mr. Barnett's very accurate explosives--Slade's
insistence--your risking your lives as you did, mites on the crust of a
red-hot cheese--I hope you know how I feel about it all. One can't thank a
man properly for the life....
"Oh, the pirates. Necessarily it must be a matter of theory, but I think
we have it right. Slade and I built it up. For what it's worth, here it
is. Let me see: you sighted the glow on the night of the 2d. Next day came
the deserted ship. It must have puzzled you outrageously."
"It did," said Captain Parkinson, drily.
"Not an easy problem, even with all the data at hand. You, of course, had
none. On Slade's showing, Handy Solomon and his worthy associates thought
they had a chest full of riches when they got the doctor's treasure;
believed they owned the machinery for making diamonds or gold or what-not
of ready-to-hand wealth. It's fair to assume a certain eagerness on their
part. Disturbed weather keeps them busy until they're well out from the
island. Then to the chest. Opening it isn't so easy: I had the key, you
know." He brought a curious and delicately wrought skeleton from his
pocket. "Tipped with platinum," he observed. "Rather a gem of a key, I
think. You see, there must have been some action, even through the
keyhole, or he wouldn't have used a metal of this kind. But the crew was
rich in certain qualities, it seems, which I failed, stupidly, to
recognise in my acquaintance with them. Both Pulz and Perdosa appear to
have been handy men where locks were concerned. First Pulz sneaks down and
has his turn at the chest. He gets it open. Small profit for him in that:
the next we know of him he is scandalising Handy Solomon by having a fit
on the deck."
"That is what I couldn't figure out to save my life," said Slade eagerly.
"If you recollect, I told you of the Professor's plunge in the cold
spring, in a sort of paroxysm, one day," said Darrow. "That was the
physiological action of the celestium. At other times, I have seen him
come out and deliberately roll in the creek, head under. Once he explained
that the medium he worked in caused a kind of uncontrollable longing for
water; something having none of the qualities of burning or thirst, but an
irresistible temporary mania. It worried him a good deal; he didn't
understand it. That, then, was what ailed Pulz. When he opened the chest
there was, as I surmise, a trifling quantity of this stuff lying in the
inner lid. It wasn't the celestium itself, as I imagine, but a sort of by-
product with the physiological and radiant effects of the real thing, and
it had been set there on guard, a discouragement to the spirit of
investigation, as it were. So, when the top was lifted, our little
guardian gets in its work, producing the light phenomenon that so puzzled
Slade, and inspiring Pulz with a passion for the rolling wave, which is
only interrupted by Handy Solomon's tackling him. As he fled he must have
pulled down the cover."
"He did," said Slade. "I heard the clang. But I saw the radiance on the
clouds. And the whole thickness of a solid oak deck was in between the sky
and the chest."
"Oh, a little thing like an oak deck wouldn't interrupt the kind of rays
the doctor used. He had his own method of screening, you understand.
However, this inconsiderable guardian affair must have used itself up,
which true celestium wouldn't have done. So when Perdosa sets his genius
for lock-picking to the task, the inner box, full of the genuine article,
has no warning sign-post, so to speak. Everything's peaceful until they
raise the compound-filled hollow layer of the inner cover, which serves to
interrupt the action. Then comes the general exit and the superior
"That's when the rays ran through the ship," said Slade. "It seemed to
follow the deck-lines."
"The stuff had a strange affinity for tar," said Darrow. "I told you of
the circle of fire about Professor Schermerhorn's waist the day he gave me
such a scare. That was the celestium working on the tarred rope he wore
for a belt. It made a livid circle on his skin. Did I tell you of his
experiments with pitch? It doesn't matter. Where was I?"
"At the place where we all jumped," said Slade.
"Oh, yes. And you dove into the small boat, trying to reach the water."
"Wait a bit," said Barnett. "If that was the exhibition of radiance we
saw, it died out in a few minutes. How was that? Did they close the chest
before they ran?"
"Probably not," replied Darrow. "Slade spoke of Pulz taking to the maintop
and being shaken out by the sudden shock of a wave. That may have been a
volcanic billow. Whatever it was, it undoubtedly heeled the ship
sufficiently to bring down both lids, which were rather delicately
"Yes, for Billy Edwards found the chest closed and locked," said Barnett.
"Of course; it was a spring lock. You sent Mr. Edwards and his men aboard.
No such experts as Pulz or Perdosa were in your crew. Consequently it took
longer to get the chest open. When at length the lid was raised, there was
a repetition of the tragedy. Mr. Edwards and his men leaped. Probably they
were paralysed almost before they struck the water. Your bos'n, whom Slade
picked up, was the only one who had time even to grab a life preserver
before the impulse toward water became irresistible. There was no element
of fright, you understand: no desertion of their post. They were dragged
as by the sweep of a tornado." Darrow spoke direct to Captain Parkinson.
"If there is any feeling among you other than sorrow for their death, it
is unjust and unworthy."
"Thank you, Mr. Darrow," returned the captain quietly.
"We found the chest closed again when the empty ship came back," observed
"Being masterless, the schooner began to yaw," continued Darrow. "The
first time she came about would have heeled her enough to shut the chest.
Now came the turn of your other men."
"Ives and McGuire," said the Captain, as Darrow paused.
"The glow came again that night, and the next day we picked up Slade,"
said Barnett.
"You know what the glow meant for your companions," said Darrow.
"But the ship. The _Laughing Lass_, man. She's vanished. No one has seen
"You are wrong there," said Darrow. "I have seen her."
In a common impulse the little circle leaned to him.
"Yes, I have seen her. I wish I had not. Let me bring my story back to the
cave on the island. After the volcanic gases had driven me to the refuge,
I sat near the mouth of the cave looking out into the darkness. That was
the night of the 7th, the night you saw the last glow. It was very dark,
except for occasional bursts of fire from the crater. Judge of my
incredulous amazement when, in an access of this illumination, I saw
plainly a schooner hardly a mile off shore, coming in under bare poles."
"Under bare poles?" cried Slade.
"The halliards must have disintegrated from some slow action of the
celestium. It could be destructive: terrifically destructive. You shall
judge. There was the schooner, naked as your hand. Possibly I might have
thought it a hallucination but for what came after. Darkness fell again. I
supposed then that Handy Solomon's crew were managing--or mismanaging--the
_Laughing Lass_ without the aid of their leader, whom I had satisfactorily
buried. I hoped they would come ashore on the rocks. Yes I was
vengeful ... then.
"Of a sudden there sprang from the darkness a ship of light. You have all
seen those great electric effects at expositions. Someone touches a
button ... you know. It was like that. Only that the piercingly brilliant
jewelled wonder of a ship was set in the midst of a swirl of vari-coloured
radiance such as I can't begin to describe. You saw it from a distance.
Imagine what it was, coming close upon you that way--dead on, out of the
night. A living glory, a living terror...."
His voice sank. With a shaking hand he fumbled amid his cigarette papers.
"It came on. A human figure, glowing like a diamond ablaze, leaped out
from it; another shot down from the foremast. I don't know how many I saw
go. It was like a theatric effect, unreal, unconvincing, incredible. The
end fitted it."
Darrow's eye roved. It fell upon a quaintly modelled ship, hung above the
"What's that?" he cried.
"Fool thing some Malay gave me," grunted Trendon. "Pretended to be
grateful because I cut his foot off. No good. Go on with the story."
"No good? You don't care what happens to it?"
"Meant to heave it overboard before now," growled the other.
Someone handed it down to Darrow.
"If I had something to hold enough water," muttered he, "I'd like to float
it. I'd like to see for myself how it worked out. I'd like to see that
devil-work in action."
He spoke feverishly.
"Boy, fill the portable rubber tub in Mr. Forsythe's cabin and bring it
here," ordered the captain.
"That will do." said Darrow, recovering himself.
He floated the model in the tub.
"Now, I don't know how this will come out," he said. "Nor do I know why
the _Laughing Lass_ met her fate under Ives and McGuire, and not before.
Perhaps the chest lay open longer ... long enough, anyway. We'll try it."
From his pocket he took a curious small phial.
"Is that what Dr. Schermerhorn gave you?" asked Slade.
"Yes," said Darrow. He set it carefully inside the little model and
slipped a lever. Slade quietly turned down the light.
A faint glow shot up. It grew bright and eddied in lovely, variant
colours. As if set to a powder train, it ran through the ship. The pale
faces of the spectators shone ghastly in its radiance. From someone burst
a sudden gasp.
"There is not enough for danger," said Darrow, quietly.
"As a point of interest," grunted Trendon.
Everyone looked at his outstretched hand. A little pocket compass lay in
the palm. The needle spun madly, projecting blue, vivid sparklings.
"My God!" cried Slade, and covered his eyes for a moment.
He snatched away his hands as a suppressed cry went up from the others.
"As I expected," said Darrow quietly.
The little craft opened out; it disintegrated. All that radiance dissolved
and with its going the substance upon which it shaped itself vanished. The
last glow showed a formless pulp, spreading upon the water.
"So passed the _Laughing Lass_," said Darrow solemnly.
"And the chest is at the bottom of the sea," said Barnett.
"Good place for it," muttered Trendon.
"In all probability it closed as the ship dissolved around it," said
Darrow. "Otherwise we should see the effects in the water."
"It might be recovered," cried Slade, excitedly.
"Could you chart it, Darrow? Think of the possibilities--"
"Let it lie," said the captain. "Has it not cost enough? Let it lie."
The water in the tub fumed and sparkled faintly and was still. Darkness
fell, except where Darrow's cigarette point glowed and faded.
[Illustration: He smashed down upon me again, and made that hole in my
leg above the knee. I handled my knife in a hurry, and made more than
one hole in his skin, while he stuck a prong through my arm.]
WILD NORTHERN SCENES.
SPORTING ADVENTURES
THE RIFLE AND THE ROD.
BY S. H. HAMMOND.
TO JOHN H. REYNOLDS, ESQ., OF ALBANY.
You have floated over the beautiful lakes and along the pleasant
rivers of that broad wilderness lying between the majestic St.
Lawrence and Lake Champlain. You have, in seasons of relaxation from
the labors of a profession in which you have achieved such enviable
distinction, indulged in the sports pertaining to that wild region.
You have listened to the glad music of the woods when the morning was
young, and to the solemn night voices of the forest when darkness
enshrouded the earth. You are, therefore, familiar with the scenery
described in the following pages.
Permit me, then, to dedicate this book to you, not because of your
eminence as a lawyer, nor yet on account of your distinguished
position as a citizen, but as a keen, intelligent sportsman, one who
loves nature in her primeval wildness, and who is at home, with a
rifle and rod, in the old woods.
With sentiments of great respect,
I remain your friend and servant,
INTRODUCTORY.
There is a broad sweep of country lying between the St. Lawrence and
Lake Champlain, which civilization with its improvements and its rush
of progress has not yet invaded. It is mountainous, rocky, and for all
agricultural purposes sterile and unproductive. It is covered with
dense forests, and inhabited by the same wild things, save the red man
alone, that were there thousands of years ago. It abounds in the most
beautiful lakes that the sun or the stars ever shone upon. I have
stood upon the immense boulder that forms the head or summit of
Baldface Mountain, a lofty, isolated peak, looming thousands of feet
towards the sky, and counted upwards of twenty of these beautiful
lakes--sleeping in quiet beauty in their forest beds, surrounded
by primeval woods, overlooked by rugged hills, and their placid waters
glowing in the sunlight.
It is a high region, from which numerous rivers take their rise to
wander away through gorges and narrow valleys, sometimes rushing down
rapids, plunging over precipices, or moving in deep sluggish currents,
some to Ontario, some to the St. Lawrence, some to Champlain, and some
to seek the ocean, through the valley of the Hudson. The air of this
mountain region in the summer is of the purest, loaded always with the
freshness and the pleasant odors of the forest. It gives strength to
the system, weakened by labor or reduced by the corrupted and
debilitating atmosphere of the cities. It gives elasticity and
buoyancy to the mind depressed by continued toil, or the cares and
anxieties of business, and makes the blood course through the veins
with renewed vigor and recuperated vitality.
The invalid, whose health is impaired by excessive labor, but who is
yet able to exercise in the open air, will find a visit to these
beautiful lakes and pleasant rivers, and a fortnight or a month's stay
among them, vastly more efficacious in restoring strength and tone to
his system than all the remedial agencies of the most skillful
physicians. I can speak understandingly on this subject, and from
evidences furnished by my own personal experience and observation.
To the sportsman, whether of the forest or flood, who has a taste for
nature as God threw it from his hand, who loves the mountains, the old
woods, romantic lakes, and wild forest streams, this region is
peculiarly inviting. The lakes, the rivers, and the streams abound in
trout, while abundance of deer feed on the lily pads and grasses that
grow in the shallow water, or the natural meadows that line the shore.
The fish may be taken at any season, and during the months of July and
August he will find deer enough feeding along the margins of the lakes
and rivers, and easily to be come at, to satisfy any reasonable or
honorable sportsman. I have been within fair shooting distance of
twenty in a single afternoon while floating along one of those rivers,
and have counted upwards of forty in view at the same time, feeding
along the margin of one of the beautiful lakes hid away in the
deep forest.
The scenery I have attempted to describe--the lakes, rivers,
mountains, islands, rocks, valleys and streams, will be found as
recorded in this volume. The game will be found as I have asserted,
unless perchance an army of sportsmen may have thinned it somewhat on
the borders, or driven it deeper into the broad wilderness spoken of.
I was over a portion of that wilderness last summer, and found plenty
of trout and abundance of deer. I heard the howl of the wolf, the
scream of the panther, and the hoarse bellow of the moose, and though
I did not succeed in taking or even seeing any of these latter
animals, yet I or my companion slew a deer every day after we entered
the forest, and might have slaughtered half a dozen had we been so
disposed. Though the excursion spoken of in the following pages was
taken four years ago, yet I found, the last summer, small diminution
of the trout even in the border streams and lakes of the "Saranac and
Rackett woods."
I have visited portions of this wilderness at least once every summer
for the last ten years, and I have never yet been disappointed with my
fortnight's sport, or failed to meet with a degree of success which
abundantly satisfied me, at least. I have generally gone into the
woods weakened in body and depressed in mind. I have always come out
of them with renewed health and strength, a perfect digestion, and a
buoyant and cheerful spirit.
For myself, I have come to regard these mountains, these lakes and
streams, these old forests, and all this wild region, as my settled
summer resort, instead of the discomforts, the jam, the excitement,
and the unrest of the watering-places or the sea shore. I visit them
for their calm seclusion, their pure air, their natural cheerfulness,
their transcendent beauty, their brilliant mornings, their glorious
sunsets, their quiet and repose. I visit them too, because when among
them, I can take off the armor which one is compelled to wear, and
remove the watch which one must set over himself, in the crowded
thoroughfares of life; because I can whistle, sing, shout, hurrah and
be jolly, without exciting the ridicule or provoking the contempt of
the world. In short, because I can go back to the days of old, and
think, and act, and feel like "a boy again."
     A Great Institution
     Hurrah! for the Country
CHAPTER III.
     The Departure--The Stag Hounds--The Chase--Round Lake
     The Doctor's Story--A Slippery Fish--A Lawsuit and a
          Compromise
     A Frightened Animal--Trolling for Trout--The Boatman's Story
          Defence
CHAPTER VII.
     Kinks!--"Dirty Dogs"--The Barking Dog that was found Dead in
          the Yard--The Dog that Barked himself to Death
CHAPTER VIII.
     Stony Brook--A Good Time with the Trout--Rackett
          River--Tupper's Lake--A Question Asked and Answered
     Hunting by Torchlight--An Incompetent Judge--A New Sound in
          the Forest--Old Sangamo's Donkey
     Grindstone Brook--Forest Sounds--A Funny Tree covered with
          Snow Flakes
     A Convention broken up in a Row--The Chairman ejected
CHAPTER XII.
     The First Chain of Ponds--Shooting by Turns--Sheep
          Washing--A Plunge and a Dive--A Roland for an Oliver
CHAPTER XIII.
     A Jolly Time for the Deer--Hunting on the Water by
          Daylight--Mud Lake--Funereal Scenery--A New way of
          Taking Rabbits--The Negro and the Merino Buck--A
          Collision
CHAPTER XIV.
     A Deer Trapped--The Result of a Combat--A Question of Mental
          Philosophy Discussed
     Hooking up Trout--The Left Branch--The Rapids--A Fight with
          a Buck
CHAPTER XVI.
     Round Pond--The Pile Driver--A Theory for Spiritualists
CHAPTER XVII.
     Little Tupper's Lake--A Spike Buck--A Thunder Storm in the
          Forest--The Howl of the Wolf
CHAPTER XVIII.
     An Exploring Voyage in an Alderswamp--A Beaver Dam--A Fair
          Shot and a Miss--Drowning a Bear--an Unpleasant
          Passenger
CHAPTER XIX.
     Spalding's Bear Story--Climbing to avoid a Collision--An
          Unexpected Meeting--A Race
     The Chase on the Island--The Chase on the Lake--The
          Bear--Gambling for Glory--Anecdote of Noah and the
          Gentleman who offered to Officiate as Pilot on Board
          the Ark
CHAPTER XXI.
     The Doctor and his Wife on a Fishing Excursion--The Law of
          the Case--Strong-minded Women
CHAPTER XXII.
     A Beautiful Flower--A New Lake--A Moose--His Capture--A
          Sumptuous Dinner
CHAPTER XXIII.
     The Cricket in the Wall--The Minister's Illustration--Old
          Memories
CHAPTER XXIV.
     The Accidents of Life--"Some Men Achieve Greatness, and Some
          have Greatness Thrust Upon Them"--A Slide--Rattle at
          the Top and an Icy Pool at the Bottom--A Fanciful Story
CHAPTER XXV.
     Headed Towards Home--The Martin and Sable Hunter--His
          Cabin--Autumnal Scenery
CHAPTER XXVI.
     A Surprise--A Serenade--A Visit from Strangers--An
          Invitation to Breakfast--A Fashionable Hour and a
          Bountiful Bill of Fare
CHAPTER XXVII.
     Would I were a Boy Again!
CHAPTER XXVIII.
     Headed Down Stream--Return to Tupper's Lake--The Camp on the
          Island
CHAPTER XXIX.
     A Mysterious Sound--Treed by a Moose--Angling for a Powder
          Horn--An Unheeded Warning and the Consequences
CHAPTER XXX.
     Good-bye--Floating Down the Rackett--A Black Fox--A Trick
          upon the Martin Trappers and its Consequences
CHAPTER XXXI.
     Out of the Woods--The Thousand Islands--Cape Vincent--Bass
          Fishing--Home--A Searcher after Truth--An
          Interruption--Finis
THE RIFLE AND THE ROD.
A GREAT INSTITUTION.
"It is a great institution," I said, or rather thought aloud, one
beautiful summer morning, as my wife was dressing the baby. The little
thing lay upon its face across her lap, paddling and kicking with its
little bare arms and legs, as such little people are very apt to do,
while being dressed. It was not our baby. We have dispensed with that
luxury. And yet it was a sweet little thing, and nestled as closely in
our hearts as if it were our own. It was our first grandchild, the
beginning of a third generation, so that there is small danger of our
name becoming extinct. A friend of mine, who unfortunately has no
voice for song, has a most excellent wife and beautiful baby, and
cannot therefore be said to be without music at home. It is his first
descendant, and everybody knows that such are just the things of which
fathers are very apt to be proud. He was spending an evening with a
neighbor, and was asked to sing. He declined, of course, giving as a
reason that he never sang. "Why, Mr. H----," said a black-eyed little
girl, of seven--"why, Mr. H----, don't you never sing to the baby?"
Sure enough! I wonder if there ever was a civilized, a human man, who
never sang to the baby. I do not believe that there was ever such a
paradox in nature, as a man who had tossed the baby up and down,
balanced it on his hand, given it a ride on his foot, and yet never
sang to it. I do not care a fig about melody of voice, or science in
quavering; I am not talking about sweetness of tone; what I mean to
say is, that I do not believe there is a man living, even though he
have no more voice than a raven, who is human, and yet never sang to
the baby, always assuming that he has one.
"A great institution," I repeated, half in soliloquy and half to my
"What in the world are you talking about?" said Mrs. H----, as she
took a pin from her mouth, and fastened the band that encircled the
waist of the baby. The nurse was looking quietly on, quite willing
that her work should be thus taken off her hands. Will somebody tell
me, if there ever was a grandmother, especially one who became such
young, who could sit by, and see the nurse dress her first, or even
her tenth grandchild, while it was a helpless little thing, say a foot
or a foot and a half long? The nurse is so unhandy; she tumbles the
baby about so roughly, handles it so awkwardly, she will certainly
dress it too loosely, or too tight, or leave a pin that will prick it,
or some terrible calamity will happen. So she takes possession of the
little thing, and with a hand guided by experience and the instincts
of affection, puts its things on in a Christian and comfortable way.
"A great institution!" I repeated again.
"I do believe the man has lost his wits," remarked Mrs. H----, handing
the baby to the nurse. "Who ever heard of a baby less than three
months old being called an institution?"
"Never heard of such a thing in my life," I replied, "though a much
greater mistake might be made."
"What then, in the name of goodness, have you been talking about?"
inquired Mrs. H----.
"The COUNTRY of course," I replied.
I had just returned from a business trip to Vermont--who ever thought
that Vermont would be traversed by railroads, or that the echoes which
dwell among her precipices and mountain fastnesses, would ever wake to
the snort of the iron horse? Who ever thought that the locomotive
would go screaming and thundering along the base of the Green
Mountains, hurling its ponderous train, loaded with human freight,
along the narrow valleys above which mountain peaks hide their heads
in the clouds? How old Ethan Allen and General Stark, "Old Put," and
the other glorious names that enrich the pages of our revolutionary
history, would open their eyes in astonishment, if they could come
back from "the other side of Jordan," and sit for a little while on
their own tombstones in sight of the railroads, and see the trains as
they go rushing like a tornado along their native valleys.
I had made up my mind that morning, all at once, to go into the
country. It was a sudden resolve, but I acted upon it. Going into the
country is a very different thing from what it used to be. There is no
packing of trunks, or taking leave of friends. You take your satchel
or travelling bag, kiss your wife in a hurry at the door, and jump
aboard of the cars; the whistle sounds, the locomotive breathes
hoarsely for a moment, and you are off like a shot. In ten minutes the
suburbs are behind you; the fields and farms are flying to the rear;
you dash through the woods and see the trees dodging and leaping
behind and around each other, performing the dance of the witches "in
most admired confusion;" in three hours you are among the hills of
Massachusetts, the mountains of Vermont, on the borders of the
majestic Hudson, in the beautiful valley of the Mohawk, a hundred
miles from the good city of Albany, where you can tramp among the wild
or tame things of nature to your heart's content.
I had for the moment no particular place in view. What I wanted was,
to get outside of the city, among the hills, where I could see the old
woods, the streams, the mountains, and get a breath of fresh air, such
as I used to breathe. I wanted to be free and comfortable for a month;
to lay around loose in a promiscuous way among the hills, where
beautiful lakes lay sleeping in their quiet loveliness; where the
rivers flow on their everlasting course through primeval forests;
where the moose, the deer, the panther and the wolf still range, and
where the speckled trout sport in the crystal waters. I had made up my
mind to throw off the cares and anxieties of business, and visit that
great institution spread out all around us by the Almighty, to make
men healthier, wiser, better. I had resolved to go into the country.
That was a fixed fact. But where?
There stood my rifle in one corner of the room, and my fishing rods in
the other. The sight of these settled the matter. "I will go to the
North," I said.
"Go to the North!" said Mrs. H----. "Do tell me if you've got another
of your old hunting and fishing fits on you again?"
"Yes," I replied, "I've felt it coming on for a week, and I've got it
"Very well," said my wife, "if the fit is on you, there's no use in
remonstrating; your valise will be ready by the morning train." And so
the matter was settled.
But I must have a companion, somebody to talk to and with, somebody
who could appreciate the beauties of nature; who loved the old woods,
the wilderness, and all the wild things pertaining to them; to whom
the forests, the lakes, and tall mountains, the rivers and streams,
would recall the long past; to whom the forest songs and sounds would
bring back the memories of old, and make him "a boy again." So I
sallied out to find him. I had scarcely traversed a square, when I
met my friend, the doctor, with carpet bag in hand, on his way to
"Whither away, my friend?" I inquired, as we shook hands.
"Into the country," he replied.
"Very well, but where?"
"Into the country," he repeated, "don't you comprehend? Into the
country, by the first train; anywhere, everywhere, all along shore."
"Go with me," said I, "for a month."
"A month! Bless your simple soul, every patient I've got will be well
in less than half that time; but let them, I'll be avenged on them
another time. But where do _you_ go?"
"To my old haunts in the North," I replied.
     "To follow the stag to his slip'ry crag,
     And to chase the bounding roe."
"But," said he, "I've no rifle."
"I've got four."
"I've no fishing rod."
"I've half a dozen at your service."
"Give me your hand," said he; "I'm with you." And so the doctor was
"Suppose," said the doctor, "we beat up Smith and Spalding, and take
them along. Smith has got one of his old fits of the hypo. He sent for
me to-day, and. I prescribed a frugal diet and the country. Wild
game, and bleeding by the musquitoes, will do him good. Spalding is
entitled to a holiday, for he's working himself into dyspepsia in this
hot weather."
"Just the thing;" I replied, and we started to find Smith and
Spalding. We found them, and it was settled that they should go with
us for a month among the mountains. Everybody knows Smith, the
good-natured, eccentric Smith; Smith the bachelor, who has an income
greatly beyond his moderate expenditures, and enough of capital to
spoil, as he says, the orphan children of his sister. By way of saving
them from being thrown upon the cold world with a fortune, he declares
he will spend every dollar of it _himself_, simply out of regard for
_them_. But Smith will do no such thing, and the tenderness with which
he is rearing the two beautiful, black-eyed, raven-haired little
girls, proves that he will not. But Smith has no professional calling
or business, and when his digestion troubles him, he has visions of
the alms-house, and the Potters' Field, and of two mendicant little
girls, while his endorsement would be regarded as good at the bank for
a hundred thousand dollars.
Spalding, as everybody within a hundred leagues of the capitol knows,
is a lawyer of eminence, full of good-nature, always cheerful, always
instructive; a troublesome opponent at the bar; a man of genial
sympathies and a big heart. If I have given him, as well as Smith, a
_nom de plume_, it is out of regard for their modesty. We arranged to
meet at the cars, the next morning at six, each with a rifle and
fishing rod, to be away for a month among the deer and the trout,
floating over lakes the most beautiful, and along rivers the
pleasantest that the sun ever shone upon.
HURRAH! FOR THE COUNTRY!
Hurrah! Hurrah! We are in the country--the glorious country! Outside
of the thronged streets; away from piled up bricks and mortar; outside
of the clank of machinery; the rumbling of carriages; the roar of the
escape pipe; the scream of the steam whistle; the tramp, tramp of
moving thousands on the stone sidewalks; away from the heated
atmosphere of the city, loaded with the smoke and dust, and gasses of
furnaces, and the ten thousand manufactories of villainous smells. We
are beyond even the meadows and green fields. We are here alone with
nature, surrounded by old primeval things. Tall forest trees, mountain
and valley are on the right hand and on the left. Before us,
stretching away for miles, is a beautiful lake, its waters calm and
placid, giving back the bright heavens, the old woods, the fleecy
clouds that drift across the sky, from away down in its quiet depths.
Beyond still, are mountain ranges, whose castellated peaks stand out
in sharp and bold relief, on whose tops the beams of the descending
sun lie like a mantle of silver and gold. Glad voices are ringing;
sounds of merriment make the evening joyous with the music of the wild
things around us. Hark! how from away off over the water, the voice of
the loon comes clear and musical and shrill, like the sound of a
clarion; and note how it is borne about by the echoes from hill to
hill. Hark! again, to that clanking sound away up in the air; metallic
ringing, like the tones of a bell. It is the call of the cock of the
woods as he flies, rising and falling, glancing upward and downward in
his billowy flight across the lake. Hark! to that dull sound, like
blows upon some soft, hollow, half sonorous substance, slow and
measured at first, but increasing in rapidity, until it rolls like the
beat of a muffled drum, or the low growl of the far-off thunder. It is
the partridge drumming upon his log Hark! still again, to that
quavering note, resembling somewhat the voice of the tree-frog when
the storm is gathering, but not so clear and shrill. It is the call of
the raccoon, as he clambers up some old forest tree, and seats himself
among the lowest of its great limbs. Listen to the almost human
halloo, the "hoo! hohoo, hoo!" that comes out from the clustering
foliage of an ancient hemlock. It is the solemn call of the owl, as he
sits among the limbs, looking out from between the branches with his
great round grey eyes. Listen again and you will hear the voice of the
catbird, the brown thrush, the chervink, the little chickadee, the
wood robin, the blue-jay, the wood sparrow, and a hundred other
nameless birds that live and build their nests and sing among these
But go a little nearer the lake, and you will have a concert that will
drown all these voices in its tumultuous roar. Compared to these
feeble strains, it is the crashing of Julien's hundred brazen
instruments to the soft and sweet melody of Ole Bull's violin. Come
with me to this rocky promontory; stand with me on this moss-covered
boulder, which forms the point. On either hand is a little bay, the
head of which is hidden around among the woods. See! over against us,
on the limb of that dead fir tree, which leans out over the water, is
a bald eagle, straightening with his hooked beak the feathers of his
wings, and pausing now and then to look out over the water for some
careless duck of which to make prey. See! he has leaped from his
perch, has spread his broad pinions, and is soaring upward towards the
sky. See! how he circles round and round, mounting higher and higher
at every gyration. He is like a speck in the air. But see! he is above
the mountains now, and how like an arrow he goes, straight forward,
with no visible motion to his wings. He has laid his course for some
lake, deeper in the wilderness, beyond that range of hills, and he is
there, even while we are talking of his flight. A swift bird, the
swiftest of all the birds, is the eagle, when he takes his descending
stoop from his place away up in the sky. He cleaves the air like a
bullet, and so swift is his career that the eye can scarcely trace his
flight. But, hark! all is still now, save the piping notes of the
little peeper along the shore. Wait, however, a moment. There, hear
that venerable podunker off to the right, with his deep bass, like the
sound of a brazen serpent. Listen! another deep voice on the left has
fallen in. There, another right over against us! another and another
still! a dozen! a hundred! a thousand! ten thousand! a million of
them! close by us! far off! on the right hand and on the left! here!
there! everywhere! until above, around us, all through the woods, all
along the shore, all over the lake is a solid roar, impenetrable to
any other sound, surging and swaying, rolling and swelling as if all
the voices in the world were concentrated in one stupendous concert.
But, hark! the roar is dying away; voice after voice drops out; here
and there is one laggard in the song, still dragging out the chorus.
Now all is still again, save the note of the little peeper along the
shore. In two minutes that band will strike up again. The roar will go
bellowing over the lake through the woods, to be thrown from hill to
hill, to die away into silence again; and so it will be through all
the long night, and until the sun looks out from among the tree tops
in the morning. Touch that solemn looking old croaker on yonder broad
leaf of that pond lily, with the end of your fishing rod, while the
music is at the highest, he will send forth a quick discordant and
cracked cry, like that of a greedy dog choked with a bone, as he
plunges for the bottom; and note how suddenly that sound will be
repeated, and how quick the roar of the frogs will be hushed into
silence. That is a cry of alarm, a note of danger, and every frog
within hearing understands its import.
Is it asked _where_ we are? I answer, we are on the Lower Saranac
Lake, just on the south point, at the entrance of the romantic little
bay, at the head of which stands Martin's Lake House, the only human
dwelling in sight of this beautiful sheet of water. On the point where
we now are, long ago, was the log shanty of a hunter and fisherman,
surrounded by an acre or two of cleared land. But its occupant moved
deeper into the wilderness, over on the waters of the Rackett, many
years since; the log shanty has rotted away, and a vigorous growth of
brush and small timber, now covers what once may have been called
But the night shadows are beginning to gather over the forest,
throwing a sort of spectral gloom among the old woods, giving a
distorted look to the trunks of the trees, the low bushes, the turned
up roots, and the boulders scattered over the ground. See what ogre
shapes these things assume as the darkness deepens. Look at that cedar
bush, with its dense foliage! It is a crouching lion, and as its
branches wave in the gentle breeze, he seems preparing for his leap;
and yonder boulder is a huge elephant! The root that comes out from
the crevice is his trunk, and the moss and lichens which hang down on
either side are his pendant ears; and see, he has a great tower on his
back, wherein is seated a warrior in his ancient armor, grasping
battle-axe and spear. Beyond, through that opening upon the bay, is a
castle looming darkly against the sky, with massive towers and
arched gateway. Such are the forms which fancy gives to these forest
things, in the doubtful twilight of a summer evening. While we have
been looking upon these unsubstantial shadows, the sunlight has left
the mountain peaks, the stars have come out in the sky, and the moon
has started on her course across the heavens.
Let us rest on our oars a moment, here in the bay, to view the scenery
around us, as seen by the mellow moonlight. So calm, so still, so
motionless are both air and water, that we seem suspended between the
sky above, sparkling and glowing with millions of bright stars, and
the moon riding gloriously on her course, and a sky beneath, sparkling
and glowing with like millions of bright stars, and the same moon, or
its counterpart, floating away down in fathomless depths below us.
See, how the same hillside, the same line of forest trees, the same
ranges and mountain peaks are reflected back from the stirless bosom
of the lake. There, above, and just on the upper line of that tall
peak, looming darkly and majestically in the distance, hangs a
brilliant star, sparkling and twinkling, like the sheen of a diamond;
and right beneath, away down just as far below the surface of the
water as mountain peak and star are above it, is another mountain peak
and bright star, twinned by the mirrored waters. See, away down the
lake, that little island with its half dozen spruce trees, clustered
together! How like a great war vessel it looks, with sails all set, as
seen by the uncertain light of the moon. And that other island, off to
the left, with the dead and barkless trees, how like a tall ship with
bare masts riding at anchor it seems. That other island, away to the
right, with its great boulders and bare rocks rising straight up out
of the water, is a fortification, a stronghold surrounded by a wall of
solid masonry, and bristling with cannon. We can almost see the
sentinel, and hear his measured tramp as he travels his lonely rounds,
keeping watch out over the waters. See all along the shore, as you
look up the bay towards the Lake House, how the millions of fireflies
flash their tiny torches, upward and downward, this way and that,
mingling and crossing, and gyrating and whirling--a troubled and
billowy sea of millions upon millions of glowing and sparkling gems.
Reader, were you and I gifted with the spirit of poetry, what
inspiration would we not gather from the glories which surround us, as
we float of a summer evening over these beautiful lakes, sleeping away
out here, in all their virgin loveliness, among these old primeval
things? But you ask, "what inspiration can there be in a moon and
stars, that we see every night, when the sky is cloudless; in a
desolate wilderness; the roar of the frogs; the hooting of owls; these
useless waters; the phosphorescent flash of lightning bugs; these
piled up rocks and barren mountains? Can you grow corn on these hills,
or make pastures of these rocky lowlands? Can you harness these rivers
to great waterwheels, or make reservoirs of these lakes? Can you
convert these old forests into lumber or cordwood? Can you quarry
these rocks, lay them up with mortar into houses, mills, churches,
public edifices? Can you make what you call these 'old primeval
things' utilitarian? Can you make them minister to the progress of
civilization, or coin them into dollars?"
Pshaw! You have spoiled, with your worldliness, your greed for
progress, your thirst for gain, a pleasant fancy, a glorious dream, as
if everything in the heavens, on the earth, or in the waters, were to
be measured by the dollar and cent standard, and unless reducible to a
representative of moneyed value, to be thrown, as utterly worthless,
away. Let us row back to the Lake House.
CHAPTER III.
THE DEPARTURE--THE STAG HOUNDS--THE CHASE--ROUND LAKE.
From Martin's Lake House we were to take our departure in the morning.
We had arranged for three boats, and as many stalwart boatmen. Two of
these boats were for our own conveyance, and one for our luggage and
provisions; the latter to be sent forward with our tents in advance,
so as to have a home ready for us always, at our coming, when we chose
to linger by the way. These boatmen were all jolly, good-natured and
pleasant people, with a vast deal of practical sense, and a valuable
experience in woodcraft, albeit they were rough and unpolished. Their
hearts were in the right place, and they commanded our respect always
for their kindness and attention to our wants, while they maintained
at all times that sturdy independence which enters so largely into the
character of the border men of our country. Their boats are
constructed of spruce or cedar boards of a quarter of an inch in
thickness, "clap-boarded," as the expression is, upon "knees" of the
natural crook, and weigh from ninety to one hundred and ten pounds
each. They are carried around rapids, or from river to river, on the
back of the boatman in this wise: A "yoke" is provided, such as every
man in the country, especially all who have visited a "sugar bush" at
the season of sugar making, has seen. At the end of this yoke is a
round iron projection, made to fit into a socket in the upper rave of
the boat. The craft is turned bottom upwards, the yoke adjusted to the
shoulders, the iron projections fitted into the sockets, and the
boatman marches off with his boat, like a turtle with his shell upon
his back. He will carry it thus sometimes half a mile before
stopping to rest.
With us were to go two staid and sober stag hounds, grave in aspect
and trained and experienced, almost, in woodcraft, as their masters;
animals that had been reared together, and who possessed the rare
instinct of returning always to the shanty from which they started,
however far the chase may have led them. It was a glorious sound in
the old forests, the music of those two hounds, as their voices rang
out bold and free, like a bugle, and went, ringing through the forest,
echoing among the mountains and dying away over the lakes. But of that
Our little fleet swung out upon the water, while the sun was yet
hanging like a great torch among the tops of the trees, on the eastern
hills. It was a beautiful morning, so fresh, so genial, so balmy. A
pleasant breeze came sweeping lazily over the lake, and went sighing
and moaning among the old forest trees. All around us were glad
voices. The partridge drummed upon his log; the squirrels chattered as
they chased each other up and down the great trunks of the trees; the
loon lifted up his clarion voice away out upon the water; the eagle
and the osprey screamed as they hovered high above us in the air,
while a thousand merry voices came from out the old woods, all
mingling in the harmony of nature's gladness. A loud and repeated
hurrah! burst from us all as our oars struck the water, and sent our
little boats bounding over the rippled surface of the beautiful
This is a indeed a beautiful sheet of water. The shores were lined
with a dense and unbroken forest, stretching back to the mountains
which surround it. The old wood stood then in all its primeval
grandeur, just as it grew. The axe had not harmed it, nor had fire
marred its beauty. The islands were covered with a lofty growth of
living timber clothed in the deepest green. There were not then, as
now, upon some of them, great dead trees reaching out their long bare
arms in verdureless desolation above a stinted undergrowth, and piled
up trunks charred and blackened by the fire that had revelled among
them, but all were green, and thrifty, and glorious in their robes of
beauty. Thousands of happy songsters carolled gaily among their
branches, or hid themselves in the dense foliage of their
wide-spreading arms. The islands are a marked feature of these
northern lakes, lending a peculiar charm to their quiet beauty, and
one day, when the iron horse shall go thundering through these
mountain gorges, the tourist will pause to make a record of their
Four or five miles down the lake, is a beautiful bay, stretching for
near half a mile around a high promontory, almost reaching another bay
winding around a like promontory beyond, leaving a peninsula of five
hundred acres joined to the main land, by a narrow neck of some forty
rods in width. Our first sport among the deer was to be the "driving"
of this peninsula. We stationed ourselves on the narrow isthmus within
a few rods of each other, while a boatman went round to the opposite
side to lay on the dogs. We had been at our posts perhaps half an
hour, when we heard the measured bounds of a deer, as he came crashing
through the forest. We could see his white flag waving above the
undergrowth, as he came bounding towards us. Neither Smith nor
Spalding had ever seen a deer in his native woods, and they were, by a
previous arrangement, to have the first shot, if circumstances should
permit it. The noble animal came dashing proudly on his way, as if in
contempt of the danger he was leaving behind him. Of the greater
danger into which he was rushing, he was entirely unconscious, until
the crack of Smith's rifle broke upon his astonished ear. He was
unharmed, however, and quick as thought he wheeled and plunged back in
the direction from which he came; Spalding's rifle, as it echoed
through the forest, with the whistling of the ball in close proximity
to his head, added energy to his flight.
The rifles were scarcely reloaded when the deep baying of the hounds
was heard, and two more deer came crashing across the isthmus where we
were stationed. The foremost one went down before the doctor's
unerring rifle and cool aim, while the other ran the gauntlet of the
three other rifles, horribly frightened, but unharmed, away. The
hounds were called off, and with our game in one of the boats, we
rowed back around the promontory, and passed on towards the Saranac
River, which connects by a tortuous course of five miles, the Lower
Saranac with Round Lake.
Midway between these two lakes, is a fall, or rather rapids, down
which the river descends some ten feet in five or six rods through a
narrow rocky channel, around which the boats had to be carried. While
this was being done, Smith and Spalding adjusted their rods, eager to
make up in catching trout what they failed to achieve in the matter of
venison. And they succeeded. In twenty minutes they had fifteen
beautiful fish, none weighing less than half a pound, safely deposited
on the broad flat rock at the head of the rapids. "One throw more,"
said Smith, "and I've done;" and he cast his fly across the still
water just above the fall. Quick as thought it was taken by a
two-pound trout. Landing nets and gaff had been sent forward with the
baggage, and without these it was an exciting and delicate thing to
land that fish. The game was, to prevent him dashing away down the
rapids, or diving beneath the shelving rock above, the sharp edge of
which would have severed the line like a knife. Skillfully and
beautifully Smith played him for a quarter of an hour, until at last
the fish turned his orange belly to the surface, and ceased to
struggle. He was drowned.
We had in the morning directed the boatman in charge of the baggage to
go on in advance, and erect our tents on an island in Round Lake. When
we entered this beautiful sheet of water, about four o'clock, we saw
the white tents standing near the shore of the island, with a column
of smoke curling gracefully up among the tall trees that overshadowed
them. When we arrived, we found everything in order. They were pitched
in a pleasant spot, looking out to the west over the water, while
within were beds of green boughs from the spruce and fir trees, and
bundles of boughs tied up like faggots for pillows. Our first dinner
in the wilderness was a pleasant one, albeit the cookery was somewhat
primitive. With fresh venison and trout, seasoned with sweet salt
pork, we got through with it uncomplainingly.
This little lake is a gem. It is, as its name purports, round, some
four miles in diameter, surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills,
beneath whose shadows it reposes in placid and quiet beauty. On the
northeast, Ballface Mountain rears its tall head far above the
intervening ranges, while away off in the east Mount Marcy and Mount
Seward stand out dim and shadowy against the sky. Nearer are the Keene
Ranges, ragged and lofty, their bare and rocky summits glistening in
the sunlight, while nearer still the hills rise, sometimes with steep
and ragged acclivity, and sometimes gently from the shore. Here and
there a valley winds away among the highlands, along which the
mountain streams come bounding down rapids, or moving in deep and
sluggish, but pure currents, towards the lake. The rugged and sublime,
with the placid and beautiful, in natural scenery, are magnificently
mingled in the surroundings of this little sheet of water.
THE DOCTOR'S STORY--A SLIPPERY FISH--A LAWSUIT AND A COMPROMISE.
There seems to be a law, or rather a habit pertaining to forest life,
into which every one falls, while upon excursions such as ours.
Stories occupy the place of books, and tales of the marvellous furnish
a substitute for the evening papers. Not that there should be any set
rule or system, in regard to the ordering of the matter, but a sort of
spontaneous movement, an implied understanding, growing out of the
necessities of the position of isolation occupied by those who are
away from the resources of civilization. The doctor had a genius for
story telling, or rather a genius for invention, which required only a
moderate development of the organ of credulity on the part of his
hearers, to render him unrivalled. There was an appearance of frank
earnestness about his manner of relating his adventures, which,
however improbable or even impossible as matter of fact they might be,
commanded, for the moment, absolute credence.
"They've a curious fish in the St. Lawrence," said the doctor, as he
knocked the ashes from his meerschaum, and refilled it, "known among
the fishermen of that river as the LAWYER. I have never seen it among
any other of the waters of this country, and never there but once. It
never bites at a hook, and is taken only by gill-nets, or the seine.
Everybody," he continued, "has visited the Thousand Islands, or if
everybody has not, he had better go there at once. He will find them,
in the heat of summer, not only the coolest and most healthful
retreat, and the pleasantest scenery that the eye ever rested upon,
always excepting these beautiful lakes, but the best river fishing I
know of on this continent. He will not, to be sure, take the speckled
trout that we find in this region, but he will be among the black
bass, the pickerel, muscalunge, and striped bass, in the greatest
abundance, and ready to answer promptly any reasonable demand which he
may make upon them. Think of reeling in a twenty-pound pickerel, or a
forty-pound muscalunge, on a line three hundred feet in length,
playing him for half an hour, and landing him safely in your boat at
last! There's excitement for you worth talking about.
"I stopped over night at Cape Vincent, last summer, on my way to 'the
Thousand Islands,' on a fishing excursion of a week. I was acquainted
with an old fisherman of that place, and agreed to go out with him the
next morning, to see what luck he had with the fish. I don't think
much of that kind of fishing, though it is well enough for those who
make a business of it, for the gill-net works, as the old man said,
while the fisherman sleeps, and all he gets in that way is clear gain.
"Well, I rose early the next morning to go out with the old fisherman
to his gill-nets. It would have done you good, as it did me, to see
how merry every living thing was. The birds, how jolly they were, and
how refreshing the breeze was that came stealing over the water,
making one feel as if he would like to shout and hurrah in the
buoyancy, the brightness, and glory of the morning. But I am not going
to be poetical about the sunrise, and the singing birds. We went out
upon the river just as the sun came up with his great, round, red
face, for there was a light smoky haze floating above the eastern
horizon, and threw his light like a stream of crimson flame across the
water; and the meadow lark perched upon his fence stake, the blackbird
upon his alderbush, the brown thrush on the topmost spray of the wild
thorn, and the bob-o'-link, as he leaped from the meadow and poised
himself on his fluttering wings in mid air, all sent up a shout of
gladness as if hailing the god of the morning.
"We came to the nets and began to draw in. You ought to have seen the
fish. There were pickerel from four to ten pounds in weight, white
fish, black bass, rock bass, Oswego bass, and pike by the dozen; and,
what was a stranger to me, a queer looking specimen of the piscatory
tribes, half bull-head, and half eel, with a cross of the lizard.
"'What on earth is that?' said I, to the fisherman. "'That,' said he,
'is a species of ling; we call it in these parts a LAWYER'
"'A lawyer!' said I; 'why, pray?'
"'I don't know,' he replied, 'unless it's because he ain't of much
use, and is the slipriest fish that swims.'
"Mark," continued the doctor, turning to Spalding; "I mean no
personality. I am simply giving the old fisherman's words, not
"Proceed with the case," said Spalding, as he sent a column of smoke
curling upward from his lips, and with a gravity that was refreshing.
"Well," resumed the doctor, "the LAWYERS were thrown by themselves,
and one old fat fellow, weighing, perhaps, five or six pounds, fixed
his great, round, glassy eyes upon me, and opened his ugly mouth, and
I thought I heard him say, interrogatively, 'Well,' as if demanding
that the _case_ should proceed at once.
"'Well,' said I, in reply, 'what's out?'
"'What's out!' he answered; '_I'm_ out--I'm out of my element--out of
water--out of court--and in this hot, dry atmosphere, almost out of
breath. But what have I been summoned here for? I demand a copy of the
"'My dear sir,' said I, 'I'm not a member of the court. I don't belong
to the bar--I'm not the plaintiff--I'm not in the profession, nor on
the bench. I'm neither sheriff, constable nor juror. I'm only a
spectator. In the Rackett Woods, among the lakes and streams of that
wild region, with a rod and fly, I'm at home with the trout, but;----'
"'Oh! ho!' he exclaimed with a chuckle, 'you're the chap I was
consulted about down near the mouth of the Rackett the other day, by a
country trout, who was on a journey to visit his relatives in the
streams of Canada. He showed me a hole in his jaw, made by your hook
at the mouth of the Bog river. I've filed a summons and complaint
against you for assault and battery, and beg to notify you of
"'I plead the general issue,' said I.
"'There's no such thing known to the code,' he replied.
"'I deny the fact, then,' I exclaimed.
"'That won't do,' he rejoined; "'the complaint is put in under oath,
and you must answer by affidavit, of the truth of your denial.'
"You see my dilemma. I remembered the circumstance of hooking a noble
trout at the place alleged, and as the affair has been settled, I'll
tell you how it was. At the head of Tupper's Lake, one of the most
beautiful sheets of water that the sun ever shone upon, lying alone
among the mountains, surrounded by old primeval forests, walled in by
palisadoes of rocks, and studded with islands, the Bog River enters;
this river comes down from the hills away back in the wilderness,
sometimes rushing with a roar over rocks and through gorges, sometimes
plunging down precipices, and sometimes moving with a deep and
sluggish current across a broad sweep of table land. For several miles
back of the lake, and until a few rods of the shore, it is a calm,
deep river. It then rushes down a steep, shelving rock some twenty
feet into a great rocky basin; then down again over a shelving rock in
a fall of twenty feet into another rocky basin; and then again in
another fall of twenty or thirty feet, over a steep, shelving rock,
shooting with a swift current far out into the lake. These falls
constitute a beautiful cascade, and their roar may be heard of a calm,
summer evening, for miles out on the placid water.
"At the foot of these falls, in the summer season, the trout
congregate; beautiful large fellows, from one to three pounds in
weight; and a fly trailed across the current, or over the eddies, just
at its outer edge, is a thing at which they are tolerably sure to
rise. Well, last summer, I was out that way among the lakes that lie
sleeping in beauty, and along the streams that flow through the old
woods, playing the savage and vagabondizing in a promiscuous way. The
river was low, and a broad rock, smooth and bare, sloping gently to
the water's edge, under which the stream whirled as it entered the
lake, and above which tall trees towered, casting over it a pleasant
shade, presented a tempting place to throw the fly. I cast over the
current, and trailed along towards the edge of the rock, when a
three-pounder rose from his place down in the deep water. He didn't
come head foremost, nor glancing upward, but rose square up to the
surface, and pausing a single instant, darted forward like an arrow
and seized the fly. Well, away he plunged with the hook in his jaw,
bending my elastic rod like a reed, the reel hissing as the line spun
away eighty or a hundred feet across the current, and far out into
the lake; but he was fast, and after struggling for a time, he
partially surrendered, and I reeled him in. Slowly, and with a sullen
struggling, he was drawn towards the shore, sometimes with his head
out of water, and sometimes diving towards the bottom. At last, he
caught sight of me, and with renewed energy he plunged away again,
clear across the current and out into the lake. But the tension of the
elastic rod working against him steadily, and always, was too much for
his strength, and again I reeled him in, struggling still, though
faintly. Slowly, but steadily, I reeled him to my hand. He was just by
the edge of the rock, almost within reach of my landing net, when,
with a last desperate effort to escape, he plunged towards the bottom,
made a dive under the rock, the line came against its edge, slipped
gratingly for a moment, snapped, and the fish was gone. He was a
beautiful trout, and beautifully he played. He deserved freedom on
account of the energy with which he struggled for it.
"You will see, therefore, that, as I said, I was in a dilemma. The
action against me was well brought. I could not deny the truth of the
facts charged against me in the complaint. In this position of
affairs, three alternatives presented themselves; first, a denial of
the truth of the complaint, but that involved perjury; secondly,
admission of the facts charged, but that involved conviction; and,
thirdly, a compromise, and the latter one I adopted.
"'Can't this thing be settled,' said I, to the old lawyer fish of the
St. Lawrence, 'without litigation? me and my four companions
overboard, place us in _statu quo_, and the action shall be
discontinued.'
"'Agreed,' said I, and I reached down to enter upon the performance of
my part of the contract.
"'Wait a moment,' said he, curling up his shaky tail, 'the costs--who
pays the costs?'
"'The costs!' I replied, 'each pays his own, of course.'
"'Not so fast,' he exclaimed, 'not quite so fast. You must pay the
costs, or the suit goes on.'
"There was something human in the tenacity with which that old
'lawyer' clung to the idea of costs. There he was gasping for breath,
his life depending upon the result of the negotiation, and still he
insisted upon the payment of costs as a condition of compromise."
"Probably out of regard for the interest of his client," said
Spalding, gravely; "but proceed with the case."
"'Fisherman,' said I," resumed the Doctor, "'what is the cost of these
five _lawyers_? How much for the fee simple of the lot?'
"'They ain't worth but ninepence,' he replied.
"'Good,' said I, 'here's a shilling, York currency.'
"'Agreed,' said he, and threw in a sucker, by way of change.
"'Anything more?' I asked of the old cormorant lawyer.
"'No,' he replied; 'all right--so toss us overboard, and be quick, for
my breath is getting a little short.' I threw them over, one at a
time, the old fellow last, and as he slipped from my hand into the
river, he thrust his ugly face out of the water, and said, coolly,
'Good morning! When you come our way again, _drop in_.'
"'No,' said I, 'I'll _drop a line._' I remembered how I 'dropped in,'
over on Long Lake, one day, and had no inclination to drop in to the
St. Lawrence, especially when there are old lawyer fishes there to
summon me for assault and battery on a 'Shatagee trout.'"
"Doctor," said Hank Martin, one of our boatmen, who had been listening
to the Doctor's narrative, "I don't want to be considered for'ard or
sassy, but I'd like to know how much of these kinds of stories we
hired folks are obligated to believe?"
"Well," replied the Doctor, "there are three of you in all, and
between you, you must make up a reasonable case, as Spalding would
say, of faith in everything you may hear. This you may do by dividing
it up among you."
"Very good," said Martin, with imperturbable gravity; "I only wanted a
fair understanding of the matter on the start."
A FRIGHTENED ANIMAL--TROLLING FOR TROUT--THE BOATMAN'S STORY.
We sat in front of our tents, enjoying the delightful breeze that
swept quietly over the lake, and watching the stars as they stole out
from the depths. The whippoorwill piped away in the old forests, and
the frogs bellowed like ten thousand buffaloes along the shore. The
roar of their hoarse voices went rolling over the lake, through the
old woods, and surging up against the mountains to be thrown back by
the echoes that dwell among the hills. We had knocked the ashes from
our pipes, and were about retiring to our tents for the night, when a
long wake in the water across the line of the moon's reflection,
attracted our attention. It was evidently made by some animal
swimming, and the Doctor and Martin started in pursuit. It proved to
be a deer which was apparently making its way to an island, midway
across the lake. They had no desire to slaughter it, and they
concluded to drive it ashore where we were. They headed it in the
proper direction, and followed the terrified animal as it swam for
life towards the island on which we were encamped. We understood their
purpose, and sat perfectly silent. The deer struck the island directly
in front of our tent, and dashed forward in wild affright, right
through the midst of us, towards the thicket in our rear, glad to be
rid of his pursuers on the water. As he bounded past us, we sprang up
and shouted, and if ever a dumb animal was astonished it was that
deer. He leaped up a dozen feet into the air, bleated out in the
extremity of his terror, and plunged madly forward, as if a whole
legion of fiends were at his tail. The stag hounds which were tied to
a sapling, by their fierce baying, added vigor to his flight. We heard
his snort at every bound across the island, and his plunge into the
lake on the other side.
In the morning we sent forward our boatman with the tents and baggage
to an island on the Upper Saranac, and coasted this pleasant little
lake. On the right, as you approach the head, is a deep bay, skirted
by a natural meadow, where the rank wild grass, and the pond lilies
that grow along the shore furnish a rich pasture for the deer. We saw
several feeding quietly like sheep, on the little plain and upon the
lily pads in the edge of the water. We paddled silently to within a
dozen rods of them, when, as they discovered us, they dashed snorting
and whistling away.
On the right of this meadow, and among the tall forest trees are
great boulders which, piled up and partly obscured by the undergrowth,
resemble from the lake the massive ruins of some ancient
fortification. We landed by a spring, which came bubbling up from
beneath one of these great moss-covered rocks, to lunch. It was a
pleasant spot, and while we sat there dozens of small birds, of the
size and general appearance of the cuckoo, save in their hooked beaks,
attracted by the scent of our cold meats, came hopping tamely about on
the lower limbs of the forest trees around us. They were called by our
boatmen, "meat hawks," and have less fear of man than any wild birds
that I have ever seen.
We crossed the carrying place of a quarter of a mile around the
rapids, in which distance the river falls some sixty feet, roaring and
tumbling down ledges and boiling in mad fury around boulders. We
entered the Upper Saranac at the hour appointed, and found our tents
pitched and a dinner of venison and trout awaiting us on the island
selected for our encampment.
As the sun sank behind the hills, the breeze died away, and the lake
lay without a ripple around as, so calm, so smooth, and still, that it
seemed to have sunk quietly to sleep in its forest bed. The fish were
jumping in every direction, and while the rest of us sat smoking our
meerchaums after dinner, or rather supper, Smith rigged his trolling
rod, and having caught half a dozen minnows, he with Martin, rowed out
upon the water to troll for the lake trout. These are a very different
fish from the speckled trout of the streams and rivers. They had none
of the golden specks of the latter, are of a darker hue, and much
larger. They are dotted with brown spots, like freckles upon the face
of a fair-skinned girl. They are shorter too, in proportion to their
weight than the speckled trout. They are caught in these lakes,
weighing from three to fifteen pounds, and instances have been known
of their attaining to the weight of five and twenty. It is an exciting
sport to take one of these large fellows on a line of two hundred and
fifty or three hundred feet in length. They play beautifully when
hooked, and it requires a good deal of coolness and skill to land them
safely in your boat. A trolling rod for these large fish should be
much stiffer, and stronger than those used for the fly, on the rivers
and streams; and the reel should be stronger and higher geared than
the common fly reel. Three hundred feet of line are necessary, for the
fish, if he is a large one, will sometimes determine upon a long
flight, and it will not do to exhaust your line in his career. In that
case, he will snap it like a pack-thread. An English bass rod is the
best, and with such, and a large triple action reel, the largest fish
of these lakes may be secured.
Smith had trolled scarcely a quarter of a mile, when his hook was
struck by a trout, and then commenced a struggle that was pleasant to
witness. No sooner had the fish discovered that the hook was in his
jaw, than away he dashed towards the middle of the lake. The rod was
bent into a semicircle, but the game was fast; with the butt firm
between his knees and his thumb pressing the reel, the sportsman gave
him a hundred and fifty feet of line, when his efforts began to relax,
and as Smith began to reel him in, a moment of dead pull, a holding
back like an obstinate mule occurred. The trout was slowly towed in
the direction of the boat. Then, as if maddened by the force which
impelled him, he dashed furiously forward, the reel answering to his
movements and the line always taught, he rose to the surface leaping
clear from the water, shaking his head furiously as if to throw loose
the fastenings from his jaw. Failing in this, down he plunged fifty
feet straight towards the bottom, making the reel hiss by his mad
efforts to escape. Still the line was taught, pressing always, towing
him towards the boat at every relaxation. At last he rose to the
surface, panting and exhausted, permitting himself to be towed almost
without an effort, to within twenty feet of his captors. When he saw
them, all his fright and all his energies too seemed to be restored,
and away he dashed, sciving through the water a hundred and fifty feet
out into the lake. But the hook was in his jaw, and he could not
escape. After half an hour of beautiful and exciting play, he
surrendered or was drowned, and Smith lifted him with his landing net,
a splendid ten-pound trout, into his boat. By this time the shadows of
twilight were gathering over the lake, and he came ashore. A proud man
was Smith, as he lifted that fish from the boat and handed it over to
the cook to be dressed for breakfast, and though we had seen the whole
performance from our tents, yet he gave us in glowing and graphic
detail the history of his taking that ten-pound trout.
"Captain," said Hank Wood, who had been quietly whitling out a new set
of tent pins, addressing Smith, "you had a good time of it with that
trout, but it was nothing to an adventer of mine with an old
mossy-back, on this lake, five year ago this summer."
"How was that?" inquired Smith; and we all gathered around to hear
Hank Wood's story.
"I don't know how it is," he began, as he seated himself on the log in
front of the tents, with one leg hanging down, and the other drawn up
with the heel of his boot caught on a projection in the bark, his knee
almost even with his nose, and his fingers locked across his shin, "I
don't know exactly why, but the catching of that trout makes me think
of an adventer I had on this very lake, five year ago this summer. It
is curious how things will lay around in a man's memory, every now and
then startin' up and presentin' themselves, ready to be talked
about--reeled off--as it were, and then how quietly they coil
themselves away, to lay there, till some new sight, or sound, or idea,
or feelin' stirs 'em into life, and they come up again fresh and plain
as ever. Some people talk about forgotten things, but I don't believe
that any matter that gets fairly anchored in a man's mind, can ever be
forgotten, until age has broken the power of memory. It is there, and
will stay there, in spite of the ten thousand other things that get
piled in on top of it, and some day it will come popping out like a
cork, just as good and distinct as new. But I was talkin' about an
adventer I had with a trout, five year ago, here on the Upper
Saranac. I was livin' over on the _Au Sable_ then, and came over to
these parts to spend a week or so, and lay in a store of jerked
venison and trout for the winter. I brought along a bag of salt, and
two or three kegs that would hold a hundred pound or so apiece, and
filled 'em too with as beautiful orange-meated fellows as you'd see in
a day's drive. The trout were plentier than they are now. They hadn't
been fished by all the sportin' men in creation, and they had a chance
to grow to their nateral size. You wouldn't in them days row across
any of these lakes in the trollin' season without hitchin' on to an
eight, or ten, and now and then to a twenty-pounder.
"Wal, I was on the Upper Saranac, up towards the head of the lake, ten
or twelve miles from here, trollin' with an old-fashioned line, about
as big as a pipe stem, a hundred and fifty feet long, and a hook to
match. Nobody in them days tho't of sich contrivances as
trollin'-rods, reels, and minny-gangs. You held your lines in your
fingers, and when you hooked a fish, you drew him in, hand over hand,
in a human way. It was in the latter part of June, and the way the
black flies swarmed along the shore, was a thing to set anybody a
scratchin' that happened to be around. It was a clear still mornin',
and the sun as he went up into the heavens, blazed away, and as he
walked across the sky, if he didn't pour down his heat like a furnace,
I wouldn't say so. I had tolerable good luck in the forenoon, and
landed on a rocky island to cook dinner. I made such a meal as a
hungry man makes when he's out all alone fishin' and huntin' about
these waters, and started off across the lake, with my trollin' line
to the length of a hundred feet or more, draggin' through the water
behind me. The breeze had freshened a little, and my boat drifted
about fast enough for trollin', and feelin' a little drowsy, I tied
the end of the line to the cleets across the knees of the boat, and
lay down in the bottom with my hand out over the side holdin' the
line. I hadn't laid there long, when I felt a twitch as if something
mighty big was medlin' with the other end of the string. I started up
and undertook to pull in, but you might as well undertake to drag an
elephant with a thread. I couldn't move him a hair. Pretty soon the
boat began to move up the lake in a way I didn't at all like. At first
it went may be three miles an hour, then five, ten, twenty, forty,
sixty miles the hour, round and round the lake, as if hurled along by
a million of locomotives. We went skiving around among the islands,
into the bays, along the shore, away out across the lake, crossing and
re-crossing in every direction; and if there's a place about this lake
we didn't visit, I should like to have somebody tell me where it is.
You may think it made my hair stand out some, to find myself flyin'
about like a streak of chain lightnin', and to see the trees and rocks
flyin' like mad the other way. I tried to untie the line, but it was
drawn into a knot so hard, that the old Nick himself couldn't move it.
I looked for my knife to cut it, but it had, somehow, got overboard in
our flight, besides flyin' about at the rate of sixty mile an hour,
kept a fellow pretty busy holdin' on, keepin' his place in the boat.
"After an hour or two we came to a pause, and the old feller that was
towin' me about, walked up to the surface, and stickin' his head out
of the water, 'Good mornin',' says he, in a very perlite sort of way.
'Good mornin',' says I, back again. 'How goes it?' says he. 'All
right,' says I. 'Step this way and I'll take the hook out of your
gums.' 'Thank you for nothing,' says he, and he opened his month like
the entrance to a railroad tunnel, and blame me, if he hadn't taken a
double hitch of the line around his eye tooth, while the hook hung
harmless beside his jaw.
"'I've a little business down in the lower lake,' says he, 'and must
be movin',' and away he bolted like a steam engine, down the lake.
When he straightened up, my hat flew more than sixty yards behind me,
and the way I came down into the bottom of the boat was anything but
pleasant. Away we tore down towards the outlet, the boat cuttin' and
plowin' through the water, pilin' it up in great furrows ten feet high
on each side. There is, as you know, sixty feet fall between the Upper
Saranac and Round Lake, and the river goes boilin' and roarin',
tumblin' and heavin' down the rapids and over the rocks, pitchin' in
some places square down a dozen feet among the boulders. No sensible
man would think of travellin' that road in a little craft like mine,
unless he'd made up his mind to see how it would seem to be drowned,
or smashed to pieces agin the rocks. But right down the rapids we
went, swifter than an eagle in his stoop, down over the boilin'
eddies, down over the foamin' surge, down the perpendicular falls, as
if the old Nick himself was kickin' us on end. How we got down I won't
undertake to say, but when I got breath and looked out over the side
of the boat I saw the old woods and rocks along the shore below the
falls, rushin' up stream like a racehorse.
"Wal, we entered Round Lake, crossed it in five minutes, and down the
river we rushed over the little falls at a bound, and into the Lower
Saranac. I'd got a little used to it by this time, and though it was
mighty hard work to catch my breath in such a wind as we made by our
flight, yet I managed to sit up and look around me. It was curious to
see how the islands on the Lower Saranac danced about, and how the
shores ran away behind while I was looking at 'em; and how the forest
trees dodged, and whirled, and jumped about one another, as we tore
along. After tearin' about the lake a spell, we came to something like
a halt, and old Mossyback stuck his head out of water, and openin' his
great glassy eyes like the moon in a mist, 'How do you like that?'
said he, in a jeerin' sort of way. 'All right,' said I; 'go it while
you're young.' I didn't care about appearin' skeered or uneasy, but
I'd have given a couple of month's wages just then, to have been on
dry land. 'Well,' said he, 'I guess we'll be gittin' towards home.'
And away he started for the Upper Saranac, and up the river, across
Round Lake, and right up over the rapids we went. Two or three times I
made up my mind that I was a goner, as the water piled up around me
along over the falls; but somehow our very speed made our boat glance
upward at such times, and skim along the surface like a duck. We went
boundin' from hillock to hillock, on the mad waters, till we entered
the broad lake and went skiving about again among the islands.
"All at once he seemed to take a notion to go down towards the bottom;
so shortenin' the line some fifty foot or more, he hoisted his great
tail straight up towards the sky, and down he went, the boat standing
up on end, and somehow the waters didn't seem to close above us, so
rapid was our descent. It was tight work, as you may guess, to hold on
under such circumstances, but I managed to keep my place. How deep we
went I wont undertake to say, but this much is quite sartin, we went
down so far that I couldn't see out at the hole we went in at. There
are some mighty big fish away down in them parts, you may bet your
life on that; trout that it wouldn't be pleasant to handle.
"By-and-bye we started for daylight again. The fish had to stand out
of the way as we rushed like an express train towards the surface;
them that didn't we made a smash of. One bull head, I remember, about
twice as long as one of our boats wasn't quick enough; the bow of the
boat struck him about in the middle and cut him in two like a knife.
One old trout seemed to have made up his mind for a fight, and he
chased us more than two miles with his jaws open like a great pair of
clamps, as if he'd a mind to swallow us boat and all, and from the
size of the openin', I'm bold to say he'd a done it too, if he'd have
caught us; but as we rounded an island, he run head foremost, jam
against a rock. That kind o' stunned him, and he gave in.
"Wal, after we got to the surface, the trout that was towin' me,
seemed to let on an extra amount of steam for a mile or so, and let me
say the way we went was a caution. I've travelled on the cars in my
day, when they made every thing gee again, but that kind o' goin'
wasn't a circumstance to the way we tore along. The water rose up on
either hand more than twenty feet, and went roarin', and tumblin', and
hissin', as if everything was goin' to smash. All at once the line was
thrown loose, and the boat went straight ahead bows on, to one of the
small islands up towards the head of the lake, and when she struck, I
went through the air eend over eend, clear across the island, more
than fifteen rods, ca-splash into the lake on the other side.
"Human nater couldn't stand all that, so startin' up I found that
while I'd been layin' in the bottom of the boat the wind had ris, and
was blowin' a stiff gale. The boat had drifted across the lake and had
struck broadside agin the shore, and the waves were makin' a clean
breach into her at every surge. I soon got her, head on to the waves,
and feelin' something mighty lively at the other eend of the line,
hauled in a twelve-pounder."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed one of the audience; "you've only been telling a
dream, in this long yarn, we've been listening to."
"Wal," replied the narrator; "some people that I've told it to, have
suspicioned that it might be so; but every thing about it seemed so
nateral, that I'm almost ready to make my affidavy that it was sober
fact. One thing, however, I always had my doubts about: I never fully
believed, that _I was actually pitched over that island_. I've hearn
it said that when a man has eaten a hearty dinner, and goes to sleep
with the hot sun pourin' right down on him, he's apt to see and hear a
good many strange things before he wakes up. May be it was so
THE UPPER SARANAC--SPECTACLE PONDS--THE ACCUSATION AND THE DEFENCE--AN
OCTOGENARIAN SMOKER.
We spent the next day in rowing about the Upper Saranac, exploring its
beautiful bays and islands. We took as many trout in trolling
occasionally, as we needed for dinner and supper. It became an
established law among us, that we should kill no more game or fish
than we needed for supplies, whatever their abundance or our
temptation might be. It required some self-denial to observe this law,
but we kept it with tolerable strictness. There were times when we had
a large supply of both venison and fish, but there were seven men of
us in all, and we could despose of a good deal of flesh and fish in
the twenty-four hours. We had sent our boat with the luggage across
the Indian carrying place, a path of a mile through the forest, to the
Spectacle Ponds, three little lakes, from which a stream, known as
Stony Brook, rises. This stream is navigable for small boats like
ours, five miles to the Rackett River. These lakes contain from a
hundred to a hundred and fifty acres each. At the head of the Upper
Pond is a beautiful cold spring, near which, upon crossing the
carrying place, at evening, we found our tents pitched. We arrived
here about sundown, somewhat wearied with our day's excursion, and
with appetites fully equal to a plentiful supper which was soon in
readiness for us.
"You are getting me into a bad habit, spoiling my morals in a physical
sense," said Smith, addressing us as we sat after supper around our
camp-fire; "I find myself taking to the pipe out here, in these old
woods, with a relish I never have at home. It seems to agree with me
here, and I expect by the time I get back to civilization, I shall be
as great a smoker as the Doctor or Spalding. If I do, I shall have to
pay for it by indigestion and hypochondria, things that you of the fat
kine, know nothing about."
"Well," replied the Doctor, "You will only have to call on me as you
did last month, and then send for Spalding to draw your will, as you
did the next day, when you were as well as I am, excepting that kink
in your head about your going to die."
"Why, the truth is," retorted Smith, "I had made up my mind, after
twelve hours consideration, to take the medicine you left, and I
appeal to H----here, if it was after that, anything more than a
reasonable precaution to be prepared for any contingency that might
happen. Your medicines, Doctor, and the testamentary disposition of a
man's worldly effects, are very natural associations."
"Very well," said the Doctor; "you'll send for me again in a month
after our return, and in that case, it may be, that the money you paid
Spalding for drawing your will, will not have been thrown away. But in
regard to the use of the pipe; I propose that we call upon Spalding,
for a legal opinion, or an argument in its favor. It's his business to
defend criminals, and I file an accusation against smoking generally,
excepting, however, from the indictments the use of the pipe, as in
some sort a necessity, on all such excursions as ours."
"I shall not undertake," said Spalding, "to enter into a labored
defence of the use of tobacco in any form. I only move for a
mitigation of punishment, and will state the circumstances upon which
I base my appeal to the clemency of the court. The exception in the
indictment, enables me to avoid the plea of necessity, which I should
have interposed, founded upon a huge forest meal, and the abundance as
well as impertinence of the musquitoes of these woods."
"I called the other day upon a venerable friend and client, who is
travelling the down hill of life quietly, and though with the present
summer he will have accomplished his three score years and ten, his
voice is as cheerful, and his heart as young, as they were decades
ago, when his manhood was in the glory and strength of its prime. I
found him sitting in his great arm-chair, smoking his accustomed pipe,
reading the evening papers. He seemed to be so calm, and happy, as the
smoke went wreathing up from his lips, that I could not for the moment
refrain from envying the calmness and repose which were visible all
around him. He has smoked his morning and evening pipe, in his quiet
way, for nearly half a century. When engaged in the active business of
life, struggling with its cares, and fighting its battles, he always
took half an hour in the morning, and as long at evening, to smoke his
pipe and read the news of the day. He scarcely ever, when at home,
under any pressure of circumstances omitted these two half hours of
repose, or as his excellent wife used to say, of 'fumigation.' She
passed to her rest years ago, leaving behind her the pleasant odor of
a good name, a memory cherished by all who knew her.
"Men denounce the use of tobacco, and I do not quarrel with them for
doing so. Say that it is a vile and a filthy habit; be it so, I will
not now stop to deny it. Say that it is bad for the constitution,
ruinous to the health; be it so. I will not gainsay it. Still I never
see an old man, seated in his great arm chair, with his grandchildren
playing around him, smoking his pipe and enjoying its, to him,
pleasant perfume, its soothing influences, without regarding that same
pipe as an institution which I would hardly be willing to banish
entirely from the world.
"There is a good deal of philosophy, too, in a pipe, if one will but
take the trouble to study it; great subjects for moralizing, much food
for reflection; and all this outside of the physical enjoyment, the
soothing influences of a quiet pipe, when the day is drawing to a
close, and its cares require some gentle force to banish them away. It
does not weaken the power of thought, nor stultify the brain. It
quiets the nerves, makes a man look in charity upon the world, and to
judge with a chastened lenity the shortcomings of his neighbors. It
reconciles him to his lot, and sends him to his pillow, or about his
labors, with a calm deliberate cheerfulness, very desirable to those
who come under the law that requires people to earn their bread by the
sweat of their brow.
"I said there is a good deal of philosophy in a pipe, and I repeat it.
Who can see the smoke go wreathing and curling upward from his lips in
all sorts of fantastic shapes, spreading out thinner and thinner, till
it fades away and is lost among the invisible things of the air,
without saying to himself, 'Such are the visions of youth; such the
hopes, the grand schemes of life, looming up in beautiful distinctness
before the mind's eye, growing fainter and fainter as life wears away,
and then disappearing forever. Such are the things of this life,
beautiful as they appear, unsubstantial shadows all.' And then, as the
fire consumes the weed, exhausting itself upon the substance which
feeds it, burning lower and lower, till it goes out for lack of
aliment, who will not be reminded of life itself? the animated form,
the body instinct with vitality, changing and changing as time sweeps
along, till the spirit that gave it vigor and comeliness, and power
and beauty, is called away, and it becomes at last mere dust and
ashes. And then again, when the pipe itself falls from the teeth, or
the table, or the mantel, or the shelf--as fall it surely will, sooner
or later--and is broken, and the fragments are thrown out of the
window, or swept out at the door, who can fail to see in this, the
type of life's closing scene? the body broken by disease and death,
carried away and hidden in the earth, to remain among the useless
rubbish of the past, to be seen no more forever? Yes, yes! there is a
great deal of philosophy in a pipe, if people will take pains to
"I have a pleasant time of it once or twice a year with an old
gentleman, living away in the country; one whom memory calls up from
the dim and shadowy twilight of my earliest recollections, as a tall
stalwart man, already the head of a family with little children around
him. Those who were then little children have grown up to be men and
women, and have drifted away upon the currents of life, themselves
fathers and mothers, with grey hairs gathering upon their heads. I
visit this venerable philosopher in his hearty and green old age,
every summer. I see him now, in my mind's eye, sitting under the
spreading branches of the trees planted by himself half a century ago,
which cast their shadows upon the pleasant lawn in front of his
dwelling--discussing politics, morals, history, religion,
philosophy--recounting anecdotes of the early settlement of the
county of which he was a pioneer; and I see how calmly and
deliberately he smokes, while he calls up old memories from the
shadowy past, discoursing wisely of the present, or speaking
prophetically of the future. I saw him last in July of the past year,
and he seemed to have changed in nothing. He had not grown older in
outward seeming. His heart was as warm and genial as it was long,
long ago; and cheerfulness, calm and chastened, marked as it had for
years the conversation of a man who felt that his mission in life was
accomplished. 'Why,' said he, addressing me, as a new thought seemed
to strike him, 'why, _your_ head is growing grey! I never noticed it
before. It is almost as white as mine. Well, well!' he continued, as
he tapped the thumb nail of his left hand with the inverted bowl of
his pipe, knocking the ashes from it as he spoke, 'well, well! it
won't be long until we will have smoked our last pipe. Mine, at least,
will soon be broken. But what of that? Seventy-eight years is a long
time to live in this world. I have had my share of life and of the
good pertaining to it, and shall have no right to complain when my
pipe is broken and its ashes scattered.' Such was the philosophy of an
almost Octogenarian smoker."
"I move for a suspension of sentence," said Smith, "Spalding's defence
of the weed, induces me to withdraw the indictment against it, leaving
punishment only for the excessive use of it."
The motion was carried unanimously, and by way of confirming the
decision, we all refilled our pipes and smoked till the stars looked
down in their brightness from the fathomless depths of the sky.
CHAPTER VII.
KINKS!--"DIRTY DOGS"--THE BARKING DOG THAT WAS FOUND
DEAD IN THE YARD--THE DOG THAT BARKED HIMSELF TO DEATH.
"The hallucinations of Smith," said Spalding, after we
had settled the matter of the pipes, and were enjoying a
fresh pull at the weed, "as described by the Doctor, remind
me of a slight attack of fever which I had some months ago,
and from which I recovered partly through the aid of the
Doctor's medicine, and partly through the kindness of a
young friend of mine; and of the strange 'kinks,' as you
call them, which got into my head between the fever and
the Doctor's opiates. Things were strangely mixed up, the
real and the unreal grouped and mingled in a manner that
gave to all the just proportions and appearance of sober
actualities. I remember them as distinctly, and they made
as deep and abiding impression upon my mind as if I had
seen them all. They are impressed as palpably and indelibly
upon my memory now as any actual events of my life."
"Well," said the Doctor, "suppose you give us one of these 'kinks,'
while our pipes are being smoked out, as an 'opiate' to send us all
"Be it understood, then," Spalding began, "that I like dogs in a
general way. They are plain dealing, honest, trusty folk in the
aggregate, albeit, there are what Tom Benton calls, 'dirty dogs.'
These, however, are mostly human canines, dogs that walk on two legs,
and wear clothes. Such curs I _don't_ like. But there are such, and
they may be seen and heard, barking, and snarling, and snapping in
their envy, at honest peoples' heels every day. Let them bark. Mr.
Benton was right. They are 'dirty dogs.' But a dog that looks you
honestly and frankly in the face, that stands by his master and
friend, in all times of trial, in sorrow as in joy, in adversity as in
prosperity, in dark days as in bright days, always cheerful, always
sincere, earnest, and truthful, and so that his kindness be met,
always happy, I like. He is your true nobility of nature below the
human. But there _are_ 'curs of low degree;' dogs of neither genial
instinct nor breeding; senseless animals, that belie the noble nature
of their species, are living libels upon their kind. There was one of
these over against my rooms, at the time of the sickness I speak of. I
say _was_ for thanks to the fates, he is among the things that have
been; he belongs to history, has been wiped out.
"He was a barking dog. When the moon was in the sky, he barked at the
moon. When only the stars shone out, he barked at the stars; when
clouds shut in both moon and stars, he barked at the clouds; and when
the darkness was so deep and black as to obscure even the clouds, he
barked at the darkness. Through all the long night he barked, barked,
barked! It was not a bark of defiance, nor of alarm, nor of
astonishment, nor of warning. It was not a note of danger, breaking
the hush of midnight, saying that thieves were abroad, that murder was
on its stealthy mission, or that the wolf was on the walk. It was a
senseless, monotonous, idiotic bow, wow! Nothing more, nothing less.
"All Monday night, as I lay tossing upon a bed of pain, when fever was
coursing through my veins, and every pulse went plunging like a steam
engine from the gorged heart to every extremity, and my brain was like
molten lead, I heard that terrible bark! It was my evil genius, my
destiny. It mingled in every feverish dream, became the embodiment of
every vision. I measured the periods of its recurrence by the clock
that stands in the corner of our room. I counted the tickings of its
silence, and I counted the tickings of its continuance. Every swing of
the pendulum became a distinct period of existence. Minutes, hours,
were nothing. Forty-four tickings, I said, and that bow, wow! will be
heard again! Fifteen tickings, I said, and it will cease; and so I
went on until the hours seemed to spread out into a boundless ocean of
time. That dog somehow became mixed up with that old family clock that
stood in the corner. I heard him scratching and climbing up among the
weights, writhing and twisting his way among the machinery, till
there, looking out through the face of that old family clock, distinct
and palpable as the sun at noonday, or the moon in a cloudless night,
I saw the ogre head of that dog; his great glassy, fishy eyes, his
half drooping, half erect ears, his slavering jaws, and as he gazed in
a stupid meaningless stare upon me, uttered his everlasting bow, wow!
Tell me that the room was dark; that not a ray of light penetrated the
closed doors or the curtained windows. What of that? That dog's head,
I repeat, was there; I saw it, if I ever saw the sun, the moon or the
bright stars. I saw it staring at me through all the gloom, all the
thick darkness, and I heard its terrible bow, wow! 'Get out!' I
shouted in horror.
"'What's the matter?' cried my wife, springing up in an ecstasy of
"'Drive out that dog,' I replied.
"'What dog?' she inquired.
"'There,' I replied, 'that dog there, in the clock with his great
staring, glassy eyes; drive him out!'
"She lighted the gas, and as it flashed up, there stood the old clock,
the pendulum swung back and forth, the ticking went on, and its white
old-fashioned face, looked out in calm serenity; but the dog was gone.
It was all natural as life. The lighting of the gas had frightened the
cur back to his yard, and as the forty-fourth tick ceased, his bow
wow! was heard again, and it lasted while the pendulum swung back and
forth just fifteen times. I took a cooling draft, and counted in
feverish agony forty-four, and fifteen, till the daylight came
creeping in at the windows, filling with sepulchral greyness the room.
The barking ceased, and I slept only to dream of snarling curs and
'dirty dogs' for an hour.
"Through all Tuesday I lay tossing with pain. Fever was in every
pulse; my brain was seething, burning lava. I thought and dreamed of
nothing but mangy curs and 'dirty dogs.' The night gathered again, and
the rumbling of the carriages and the thousand voices that break the
stillness of a thronged city, died away into silence. The lights were
extinguished, but again that horrible bark! bark! broke the hush of
midnight, and worse than all, the quickened senses of fever heard it
answered from away over on Arbor Hill; and again away up in State
street; and yet again over in Lydius, and still again away down by the
river. The East, the North, the West and the South had a voice, and it
was all concentrated in a ceaseless, senseless, idiotic bark. I
counted again the tickings of the clock, and each swing of the
pendulum ended in a bark! As I lay there in the silence and
desolation, the restless, tossing anguish of fever, those dogs
gathered together in State at the crossing of Eagle, just above my
boarding-house, and barked! They came under my windows, and barked!
They looked in between the curtains, and barked! They came into my
room, and there on the sofa, on the rocking-chair, on the table, on
the mantelpiece, on the ottoman, on the stove, and on the top of the
old clock, was a dog; and each barked! and barked! I saw them all
through the darkness, plain as if it were noonday. They were
'dirty dogs,' filthy brutes, ill-favored mangy curs all, and there
they sat and barked at the clock, barked at the mirror, at the stove,
barked at one another and at me, with the same monotonous,
meaningless, idiotic bow, wow! as of old.
"I had two rifles and a double-barrelled fowling-piece, sitting in the
corner of the parlor adjoining our sleeping-room, the gifts of valued
friends. My wife, wearied with the day's watching, had sunk into
slumber on the bed beside me. I woke her gently.
"'Make no noise,' I said, 'but bring me the guns; do it carefully.'
"'What on earth do you want of the guns?' she inquired in alarm.
"'Don't you see those infernal dogs?' I answered, 'bring me the guns,
and I'll make short work with the howling curs.'
"'Why, husband,' said she, 'there are no dogs here,' and as she
lighted the gas the curs vanished away. But I saw them in the
darkness. It was only when the light flashed through the room, that
they fled from it, and I heard them barking in response to each other
through all the long night, till the dawn crept over the world again.
"Years ago, I saved a boy from the meshes of the law, in which his
evil ways had involved him. I admonished him of the end towards which
he was hastening. I showed him that the path he was treading led to
destruction, and he left it, as he said, forever. He apprenticed
himself to a useful trade, and is now an intelligent mechanic. Out
of his time, an industrious, sober youth of two and twenty, supporting
by his industry, his mother and sister in comfort and respectability.
He heard of my sickness, and on Wednesday morning called to see me,
proffering his services as a nurse and watchman, prompted by gratitude
for the past. I declined his kindness for the present, as I told him
casually of the dog whose midnight barking was killing me. He called
again on Thursday morning. The barking had ceased. He inquired if I
had been troubled with the yelping of that senseless cur, and I
answered truly that I had not, that I had slept soundly, and woke with
a softened pulse and a cooled brain.
"'Well,' said he, 'I thought you would rest easier. I looked into the
yard as I came along, and saw a dead dog lying there. I thought may be
he had barked himself to death.'
"I did not at the time take in the full meaning, the hidden import of
his words. I dropped away into slumber, and dreamed of the dog that
barked himself to death. I saw him vanish by piecemeal at each
successive bark, until nothing but his jaws were left, and as his last
bark was uttered, these, too, vanished away, and then all was still.
"I awoke, and thought that a dose of 'dog-buttons,' or a taste of
strychnine, administered with a tempting bit of cold steak, or a piece
of fresh lamb, or a bone of mutton carefully dropped in his way, might
have aided the operation. Be that as it may, whatever of debt may
have existed between my young friend and myself for past kind it is
all wiped out by the news he brought me, that a 'dead dog lay in the
yard over the way.'"
CHAPTER VIII.
STONY BROOK--A GOOD TIME WITH THE TROUT--RACKETT RIVER--TUPPER'S
LAKE--A QUESTION ASKED AND ANSWERED.
The next morning we started down Stony Brook, towards the Rackett
River, intending to pitch our tents at night on the banks of Tupper's
Lake, twenty-three miles distant. Before leaving the Spectacle Ponds,
we visited a little island at the north end of the middle pond,
containing perhaps half an acre. This island has a few Norway pines
upon it, is of a loose sandy soil, and at the highest portion is some
twenty feet above the level of the water. It is a great resort for
turtle in the season of depositing their eggs. We found thousands of
their eggs, some on the surface and some buried in the sand, and if
one in a dozen of them brings forth a turtle, there will be no lack of
the animal in the neighborhood. Stony Brook is a sluggish, tortuous
stream, large enough to float our little boats, and goes meandering
most of the way for five miles among natural meadows, overflowed at
high water, or thinly timbered prairie, when it enters the Rackett. I
discovered on a former visit to this wilderness, when the water was
very low, a spring that came boiling up near the centre of the stream,
with a volume large enough almost to carry a mill. It was at a point
where a high sandy bluff, along which the stream swept, terminated. As
we approached this spot, I suggested to Spalding, who was in the bow
of the boat, to prepare his rod and fly. We approached carefully along
the willows on the opposite shore, until in a position from which he
could throw in the direction I indicated. In the then stage of the
water, there was no appearance of a spring, or any indication marking
it as a spot where the trout would be at all likely to congregate, and
Spalding was half inclined to believe that I was practising upon his
want of knowledge of the habits of the fish of this region. I had said
nothing about the spring, or the habit of the trout in gathering
wherever a cold stream enters a river, or a spring comes gushing up
"I don't believe there's a trout within half a mile of us," he said,
as he adjusted his rod and fly.
"Never mind," I replied, "throw your fly across towards that boulder
on the bank, and trail it home, and you'll see."
"Well," said he, "here goes;" and he threw in the direction indicated.
The fly had scarcely touched the water when a trout, weighing a pound
or over, struck it with a rush that carried him clear out of the
water. After a little play he was landed safely in the boat, and
another, and another, followed at almost every throw. Not once did the
fly touch the water that it was not risen to by a fish.
"By Jove!" said Spalding, as he handed me the landing-net to take in
his third or fourth trout, "this is sport. You use the net, and I'll
trail them to you. Let us make hay while the sun shines. The other
boat will soon be along, and Smith will be for dipping his spoon into
my dish. I want to astonish him when he comes."
We had secured eight beautiful fish when the Doctor and Smith rounded
the point above us. We motioned them back, and their boat lay upon its
oars. Spalding kept on throwing his fly and trailing the trout to me
to secure with the landing-net."
"Hallo!" shouted Smith, "hold on there; fair play, my friends, give me
a hand in," and he fell to adjusting his rod and flies.
"Keep back, you lubber," replied Spalding; "what do _you_ know about
trout-fishing? You'll frighten them all away by your awkwardness."
"No you don't!" shouted Smith, his rod now adjusted. "Drop down,
boatman, and we'll see who is the lubber. Wait, Spalding! Don't throw,
if you are a true man, until we can take a fair start, and then the
one that comes out second best pays the piper."
The boat dropped down to the proper position, and the Doctor, who was
seated in the stern, held it in place by pressing his paddle into the
sand at the bottom, while the boatman handled the landing net.
"Now!" exclaimed Smith, as the flies dropped upon the water together
above the cold spring. There was no lack of trout, for one rose to the
fly at every cast.
"I say," said the Doctor, "how many have you in your boat?"
"Sixteen," I replied, after counting them.
"We've got eight, and I bar any more fishing. The law has reached its
limit. No wanton waste of the good things of God, you know."
The rods were unjointed and laid away, and such a string of trout as
we had, is rarely seen outside of the Saranac woods. We procured fresh
grass in which to lay our fish, and green boughs to cover them, and
floated on down the stream, entering the Rackett at nine o'clock. The
Rackett is a most beautiful river. To me at least it is so, for it
flows on its tortuous and winding way for a hundred or more miles
through an unbroken forest, with all the old things standing in their
primeval grandeur along its banks. The woodman's axe has not marred
the loveliness of its surroundings, and no human hand has for all that
distance been laid upon its mane, or harnessed it to the great wheel,
making it a slave, compelling it to be utilitarian, to grind corn or
throw the shuttle and spin. It moves on towards the mighty St.
Lawrence as wild, and halterless, and free, as when the Great Spirit
sent it forward on its everlasting flow. The same scenery, and the
same voices are seen and heard along its banks now as then; and, while
man, in his restlessness, has changed almost everything else, the
Rackett and the things that pertained to it when the earth was young,
remain unchanged. But this will not be so long. Civilization is
pushing its way even towards this wild and, for all agricultural
purposes, sterile region, and before many years even the Rackett will
be within its ever-extending circle. When that time shall have
arrived, where shall we go to find the woods, the wild things, the old
forests, and hear the sounds which belong to nature in its primeval
state? Whither shall we flee from civilization, to take off the
harness and be free, for a season, from the restraints, the
conventionalities of society, and rest from the hard struggles, the
cares and toils, the strifes and competitions of life? Had I my way, I
would mark out a circle of a hundred miles in diameter, and throw
around it the protecting aegis of the constitution. I would make it a
forest forever. It should be a misdemeanor to chop down a tree, and a
felony to clear an acre within its boundaries. The old woods should
stand here always as God made them, growing on until the earthworm ate
away their roots, and the strong winds hurled them to the ground, and
new woods should be permitted to supply the place of the old so long
as the earth remained. There is room enough for civilization in
regions better fitted for it. It has no business among these
mountains, these rivers and lakes, these gigantic boulders, these
tangled valleys and dark mountain gorges. Let it go where labor will
garner a richer harvest, and industry reap a better reward for its
toil. It will be of stinted growth at best here.
"I like these old woods," said a gentleman, whom I met on the Rackett
last year; "I like them, because one can do here just what he pleases.
He can wear a shirt a week, have holes in his pantaloons, and be out
at elbows, go with his boots unblacked, drink whisky in the raw, chew
plug tobacco, and smoke a black pipe, and not lose his position in
society. Now," continued he, "tho' I don't choose to do any of these
things, yet I love the freedom, now and then, of doing just all of
them if I choose, without human accountability. The truth is, that it
is natural as well as necessary for every man to be a vagabond
occasionally, to throw off the restraints imposed upon him by the
necessities and conventionalities of civilization, and turn savage for
a season,--and what place is left for such transformation, save these
northern forests?"
The idea was somewhat quaint, but to me it smacked of philosophy, and
I yielded it a hearty assent. I would consecrate these old forests,
these rivers and lakes, these mountains and valleys to the Vagabond
Spirit, and make them a place wherein a man could turn savage and
rest, for a fortnight or a month, from the toils and cares of life.
We entered TUPPER'S LAKE towards six o'clock, and saw our white tents
pitched upon the left bank, some half a mile above the outlet, where a
little stream, cold almost as icewater, comes down from a spring a
short way back in the forest. This lake, some ten miles long, and
from one to three in width, is one of the most beautiful sheets of
water that the eye of man ever looked upon. The scenery about it is
less bold than that of some of the other lakes of this region. The
hills rise with a gentle acclivity from the shore; behind them and far
off rise rugged mountain ranges; and further still, the lofty peaks of
the Adirondacks loom up in dim and shadowy outline against the sky.
From every point and in every direction, are views of placid and quiet
beauty rarely equalled; valleys stretching away among the highlands;
gaps in the hills, through which the sunlight pours long after the
shadows of the forest have elsewhere thrown themselves across the
lake; islands, some bold and rocky, rising in barren desolation, right
up from the deep water; some covered with a dense and thrifty growth
of evergreen trees, with a soil matchless in fertility; and some
partaking of both the sterile and productive; beautiful bays stealing
around bold promontories, and hiding away among the old woods. These
are the features of this beautiful sheet of water, which none see but
to admire, none visit but to praise; and it lies here all alone,
surrounded by the old hills and forests, bold bluffs, and rocky
shores, all as God made them, with no mark of the hand of man about
it, save in a single spot on a secluded bay, where lives a solitary
family in a log house, surrounded by an acre or two, from which the
forest has been cleared away.
"Will somebody tell me," said Smith, as we sat on the logs in front
of our tent after supper, smudging away the musquitoes with our pipes,
"will somebody tell me what we came into this wilderness among these
musquitoes, and frogs, and owls for? Mind you, I am not discontented;
I enjoy it hugely; but what I want to know is _why_ I do so? I desire
to understand the philosophy of the thing."
"As the question involves, in some sense, a physiological fact,"
replied the Doctor, "it comes within the range of my professional
duties to understand and be able to answer it, for you must know that
the enjoyments of this region are primarily physical. Now I've a
theory which is this--that every man has a certain amount of
vagabondism in his composition that will be pretty certain to break
out in spots occasionally. At all events it is so with me, and from my
observation of men, I am strong in the faith that it is so with every
one who is neither more nor less than human. It is all a mistake to
suppose that I come off here, enduring a heap of hardship and toil,
simply for the love of fishing and hunting, though I confess to a
weakness to a certain extent that way. The charm of this region
consists in the fact, that it is the best place to play the vagabond,
and in which to do the savage for a season, that I know of. You can go
bareheaded or barefooted, without a coat or neckerchief, get as ragged
and untidy as you please, without subjecting yourself to remark, or
offending the nice sense of propriety pertaining to conventional life.
You are not responsible for what you say or do, provided always that
you do not offend against the abstract rules of decency, or the
requirements of natural decorum. You can lay around loose; the lazier
you are the better the boatman in your employ likes it. If you choose
to drift leisurely and quietly under the shadow of the hills along the
shore, examining the rocks that lie there like a ruined wall, or
explore the beautiful and secluded bays that hide around behind the
bluffs, or lay off under the shade of the fir trees on the islands, or
smoke your cigar or pipe by the beautiful spring that comes bubbling
up by the side of some moss-covered boulder, or from beneath the
tangled roots of some gnarled birch or maple, you can do any or all of
these, and have a man to help you for twelve shillings a day and
board, or you can do it just about as well alone.
"You remember LONESOME ROCK, in the Lower Saranac, a great boulder
that lifts its head some ten or fifteen feet above the surface, away
out near the middle of the lake, around which the water is of unknown
depth. This rock, which is always dark and bare, is, as you will
remember, of conical shape, sharp pointed at the top, and stands up
about the size of a small hay-stack, in the midst of the waters. Do
you remember the account that somebody gives in a ragged but terse
kind of verse, of the 'gentleman in black,' who, as he walked about,
     'Backward and forward he switched his long rail,
     As a gentleman switches his cane?'
And of whose dress it was facetiously said:
     'His coat was red and his breeches were blue,
     With a hole behind for his tail to stick through.'
another author said of him on one of his fishing excursions,
     'His rod, it was a sturdy mountain oak,
     His line, a cable which no storm e'er broke,
     His hook he baited with a dragon's tail,
     And sat upon a rock and bob'd for whale!'
Well, like the ebony gentleman, you can, if you choose, sit upon
Lonesome Rock enjoying your meditations, and bobbing, not for whale,
for whatever other fish may be found in the Lower Saranac, I believe
there are no whale; but you can bob for trout; whether you will catch
any or not will depend very much on circumstances. It is a capital
place to cast the fly from, or to sink your hook with a bait, and if
the trout do not choose to bite, whose fault is that, I should like
"And this reminds me of an anecdote told me by a gentleman I met in
June of last year, on the Rackett River among the black flies, of an
adventure he met with on Lonesome Rock last season. He had been
trolling around the lake in a boat alone, without much success, and
concluded he would try deep fishing from this rock, as he had heard
that the trout were in the habit of congregating around its base. So
he rowed to the rock, and, as he supposed, secured his boat, and
climbing up its side seated himself on his boat cushion, on the top.
He caught one fine fish at the first throw, and took it for granted
that he was going to have a good time of it among the trout. When he
mounted the rock, about eleven o'clock, the sky was overcast, and he
caught three or four trout of good size in the course of half an hour;
but the sun coming out bright and clear, the fish altered their minds,
and refused to have anything more to do with his hook. He finally
concluded to give up the business, and seek the cooling shadows of the
forest trees along the shore. But his boat was gone; and upon looking
around he saw it drifting before a light breeze a quarter of a mile
distant. Now when you remember that all around the lake was a
wilderness, save a single spot at the head of the bay, where Martin's
house stands, three or four miles distant, and when you remember also
that no boat might be passing during the next twenty-four hours, you
will comprehend that his position was none of the pleasantest. There
he sat upon the top of his rock, with scarcely room to turn around,
with a wide sweep of deep water between him and the nearest land, the
fish utterly refusing to bite, and the sun blazing down upon him with
heat like a furnace, as it crept with its snail's pace across the sky.
At first he was inclined to smile at his ridiculous situation, all
alone there on the rock; but as the wind died away, and the sun poured
his burning rays right down upon him, and he panted and sweat under
its sweltering influences, he began to feel a little more serious.
Hours glided away, and the sun crept slowly along down the heavens,
but still no boat made its appearance.
"The sun hid itself behind the hills on the West, and still he was
alone. The shadows crept up the mountain peaks that stand up like
grim giants away off in the East, and twilight began to throw its grey
mantle over the lake; still he was alone. The darkness began to gather
around him; the forests along the shore to lose their distinctness and
to stand in sombre and shadowy outline above the water; still no
prospect of relief presented itself. The twilight faded from the West,
the stars stole out in the heavens, the milky way stretched its belt
of light across the sky, and there he sat alone still on his rock, the
night dews falling around him, and the night voices of the forest
coming solemnly out over the water. Things had now assumed a serious
aspect. He could not stretch his limbs save by standing erect, and it
seemed inevitable that he must watch the stars during the night, as he
had watched the sun during the day. To sleep there was out of the
question. There was no room for a sleeping posture, and the danger of
rolling down the rock into the water kept him wide awake. At length
the pleasant sound of oars, and voices in jolly converse, fell upon
his ear, and he shouted. Two sportsmen were returning from the Upper
Lakes, and right welcome was the answer they returned to his call. He
was glad enough to be released from his rock, upon which, as he said,
'he had made up his mind that he should be compelled to roost, like a
turkey on the ridge of a barn, for the night.'
"To go back from this digression," continued the Doctor, "I repeat
that every man has a vein of the vagabond, a streak of the savage in
him, which can never be clean wiped out. Educate him, polish him as
you may, it will be in him still, and he will love to go off into the
old woods at times, to lay around loose for a season, vagabondising
among the wild and savage things of the wilderness. It is but
indulging the original instincts of our nature. True, he will not
relish his savage ways a great while. His old habits will lead him
back to civilization, to the luxury of a well-furnished room, the
quiet of an easy chair, and the repose of a soft bed. In a word to
'clean up' and shave and dress, so that when he looks into a glass he
will see the shadow of a gentleman."
HUNTING BY TORCH LIGHT--AN INCOMPETENT JUDGE--A NEW
SOUND IN THE FOREST--OLD SANGAMO'S DONKEY.
Spalding and Martin went out upon the lake after dark, with one of the
boats, to hunt by torch light. This is done by placing a lighted
torch, or a lamp upon a standard, placed upright in the bow of the
boat, and so high that a man seated or lying upon the bottom of the
craft, will have his head below it. He must himself be in someway
shaded from the light, which must be cast forward so that both the
hunter and the boatman will be in the shadow. A very common method is
to make a box, a foot or less square, open, or with a pane of glass on
one side; a stick three or four feet long is run through an auger hole
in the top and bottom, and wedged fast, which forms a standard; the
other end of the stick is run through a hole on the little deck on the
forward part of the boat, and placed in a socket formed for the
purpose in the bottom, and is wedged at the deck, so as to make it
steady. The open or glass front of the box is turned forward, and a
common japan lamp placed in a socket prepared for it in the box. This
of course throws the light forward, while the occupants of the boat
are in the shadow. The hunter sits, or more commonly lies at length on
a bed of boughs in the bottom of the boat, with his rifle so far in
front that the light will fall upon the forward sight. An experienced
boatman will paddle silently up to within twenty feet of a deer that
may be feeding along the shore. The stupid animal will stand, gazing
in astonishment at the light, until the boat almost touches him.
"That Hank Martin," said Cullen, one of the boatmen, as the hunters
disappeared into the darkness, "is a queer boy in his way. You will
notice that when he straightens up, and takes the kinks out of him, he
stands six feet and over in his stockings, and his arms hang down to
his knees. He's the strongest man in these woods, and tolerably active
when there's occasion for it. He is a droll, good-natured, easy
tempered chap, and don't get angry at trifles. He is fond of a joke
himself, and will stand having a good many sticks poked at him without
getting riled; but when he does get his back up, it's well enough to
stand out of his way, and not step on his shadow. He never struck a
man but once in real earnest, and that was over in Keeseville, and on
that occasion the people said the town clock had struck _one_. The
fellow he struck went eend over eend, and then went down, and when he
went down he laid still--he didn't come to tine.
"But what I was going to tell you is, that Hank and I were down at
Plattsburgh last fall, and a big fellow who had taken quite as much
red eye as was for his good, undertook to pick a quarrel with Hank and
give him a beating. Hank, as I said, being a peaceable man, and much
more given to fun than to fighting, kept good-natured, and avoided a
scrimmage as long as he could. But his patience and his temper at last
caved in, and seizing his opponent by the neck with his left hand, and
thrusting him down upon the ground, he began very deliberately to cuff
him with his right, in a way that seemed anything but pleasant to the
individual upon whom his cuffs were bestowed. 'Enough! enough!' cried
his assailant. 'Let up! enough! enough!' 'Hold your tongue, you
scoundrel!' replied Hank, as he kept on pommeling his enemy, 'hold
your tongue, I tell you! You ain't a judge of these things! I'll let
you know when you've got enough.' When he'd given him what he thought
was about right, he lifted him on to his feet, and, holding him up
face to face with himself a moment, 'There,' said he, 'look at me
well, so that you'll know me when I come this way again; and when you
see my trail, you'd better travel some other road.'"
"Speaking of Plattsburgh," said the Doctor, "reminds me of an incident
which occurred to a friend and myself, over in the Chataugay woods,
between the Chazy and the Upper Chataugay lakes. I was spending a few
days at Plattsburgh, and hearing a good deal of the trout and deer in
and about those lakes, my friend and myself concluded to pay them a
flying visit. On the banks of the Chazy and near the outlet, a
half-breed, that is, half French and half Indian, had built him a log
cabin, and cleared about an acre of land around it. His live stock
consisted of two homely, lean, and half-starved dogs, and as ragged
and ill-looking a donkey as could be found in a week's travel. The
half-breed was a sort of half fisherman and half hunter, excelling in
nothing, unless it be that he was the laziest man this side of the
Rocky Mountains. He succeeded, occasionally, in killing a deer in the
forest, and when he did so, he would lead his donkey to the place of
slaughter, and bring in the carcase on the long-eared animal's back.
"We were passing from the Chazy to Bradley's Lake, and had sat down on
the trunk of a fallen tree to take a short breathing spell. It was a
warm afternoon, and the air was calm; not a breath stirred the leaves
on the old trees around us; the forest sounds were hushed, save the
tap of the woodpecker on his hollow tree, or an occasional drumming of
a partridge on his log. It was drawing towards one of those calm,
still, autumnal evenings of which poets sing, but which are to be met
with in all their glory only among the beautiful lakes that lay
sleeping in the wild woods, and surrounded by old primeval things. The
path wound round a densely wooded and sombre hollow, the depths of
which the eye could not penetrate, but from out of which came the song
of a stream that went cascading down the rocks, and rippling among the
loose boulders that lay in its course. Beyond us, through an opening
in the trees, we could see the lake, sparkling and shining in the
evening sunbeams, and we were talking about the beauty of the view,
and the calmness and repose that seemed resting upon all things, when,
of a sudden, there came up from that shadowy dell a sound, the most
unearthly that ever broke upon the astonished ear of mortal man. I
have heard the roar of the lion of the desert, the yell of the hyena,
the trumpeting of the elephant, the scream of the panther, the howl of
the wolf. It was like none of these; but if you could imagine them all
combined, and concentrated into a single sound, and ushered together
upon the air from a single throat, shaped like the long neck of some
gigantic ichthiosaurus of the times of old, you would have some faint
idea of the strange sounds that came roaring up from that hollow way.
My friend was a man of courage, and, like myself, had been around the
world some; had spent a good deal of time, first and last, in the
woods, was familiar with most of the legitimate forest sounds, and had
heard all the ten thousand voices that belong in the wilderness, but
we had never before listened to a noise like that.
"We looked to our rifles and at one another, and it may well be that
our hats sat somewhat loosely upon our heads, from an involuntary
rising of the hair. 'What, in the name of all that is mysterious,'
cried my friend, in amazement, 'is that?' 'It is more than I know,' I
replied, as I placed a fresh cap on my rifle. After a few minutes, the
sounds were repeated, and the hills seemed to groan with affright as
they sent them back in wavy and quavering echoes from their rugged
"'We must understand this,' said my friend, as he led the way with a
cautious and stealthy movement towards the depths of the hollow, whence
the sounds came, and there, by the stream, on a little sand-bar, stood
old Sangamo's donkey, by the side of a deer. Old Sangamo himself was
stretched at full length on the bank, fast asleep. How he could have
slept on, with such an infernal roaring as that donkey made in those
old woods, six or eight miles outside of a fence, is more than I can
comprehend. But he did sleep through it all, and was wakened only by
a punch in the ribs with the butt of my rifle, instigated by pity for
the poor donkey that was being eaten up by the flies. We helped him
to load the carcass of the deer on the back of his donkey, and saw
him move off lazily towards home. I have heard a good many strange
noises in my day, but never, on any other occasion, have I listened
to anything to be at all compared with the noise made by the braying
of old Sangamo's donkey in the Chataugay woods."
As the Doctor concluded his story, the sharp crack of Spalding's rifle
broke the stillness of the night, and went reverberating among the
hills, and dying away over the lake. It was but a short distance from
our camp, in a little bay hidden away around a wooded promontory below
us. In a few minutes, the light was seen, rounding the point that hid
the bay from our view, and, as the boat landed in front of our tents,
Spalding and Martin lifted from it a fine two year old deer, shot
directly between the eyes.
[Illustration: How he could have slept on, with such an infernal
roaring as that donkey made in those old woods, six or eight miles
outside of a fence, is more than I can comprehend.--]
"There," said Spalding, "is the biggest, or what _was_ the biggest
fool of a deer in these woods. Do you believe that he stood perfectly
still, gazing in stupid astonishment at our light, until we were
within a dozen feet of him, when I dropped him with that ball between
"No," replied Smith, "I really don't believe any such thing."
"It is true, notwithstanding your lack of faith," said Spalding.
"Do you say that as counsel, or as a gentleman?" inquired Smith.
"Look you, Mr. Smith," said Spalding, "you are drawing a distinction
not warranted by the authority of the books--as if a lawyer could not
tell the truth like a gentleman. I say it as both."
"Very well," remarked Smith, "then I must believe it, of course. But
understand, Hank Martin, it will be my turn to-morrow night." And so
the matter was settled that the next night hunting was to be done
"H----," said the Doctor, as I was stealing quietly out of the tent,
in the twilight of the next morning, so as not to awaken my
companions, "where now?"
"I'm going to take some trout for breakfast, with our venison," I
"And where do you propose to take them?" he inquired. "Come with me,
and I'll show you. I looked the place out last evening, and if you've
done sleeping, we'll have some sport."
"Agreed," said he, and we paddled around the point into a little bay,
at the head of which a small, but cold stream entered the lake. The
Doctor sat in the bow, and, having adjusted his rod, I steered the
boat carefully, close along the shore, to within reach of the mouth of
the brook, and directed him to cast across it. The moment his fly
touched the water, half a dozen fish rose to it together. It was
eagerly seized by one weighing less than a quarter of a pound, which
was lifted bodily into the boat. He caught as fast as he could cast
his fly. They were the genuine brook trout, none of them exceeding a
quarter Of a pound in weight. In half an hour, we had secured as many
as we needed for breakfast, and paddled back to take a morning nap
while the meal was being prepared.
The sweetest fish that swims is the brook trout, weighing from a
quarter of a pound down. Rolled in flour, or meal, and fried brown,
they have no equal. The lake and river trout, weighing from two to ten
pounds, beautiful as they are, have not that delicacy of flavor which
belongs to the genuine brook trout. Boiled, when freshly caught, they
are by no means to be spoken lightly of. They have few equals, cooked
in that way, but as a pan fish, they are not to be compared with the
genuine brook trout.
GRINDSTONE BROOK--FOREST SOUNDS--A FUNNY TREE, COVERED WITH SNOW
We crossed over towards a deep bay on the west shore, to where a
stream comes cascading down the rocks, and leaping into the lake, as
if rejoicing at finding a resting-place in its quiet bosom. The spot
where this stream enters, is in the deep shadow of the old forest
trees that reach their leafy arms far out from the ledges on which
they grow, forming an arch above, and shutting out the sunlight. Here
the trout congregate, to enjoy the cool water that comes down from the
hills above. We approached it carefully, and Smith, by way of
experiment, cast his fly across the current where the stream enters
the lake. It was seized by a beautiful fish weighing, perhaps, two
pounds. We did not need him, for the place where we proposed to pitch
our tents for the night would afford us all the fish required, and
after lifting him into the boat with the landing-net and releasing
the hook from his jaw, we returned him to the lake again.
Two miles from the head of the lake, on the east side, is a deep bay
at the head of which enters a little brook that comes creeping along
for a mile among the tangled roots of ancient hemlocks and spruce,
singing gaily among the loose stones, sometimes disappearing entirely
beneath bridges of moss, and sometimes sparkling in the sunlight, on
its way to the lake. This little stream we found swarming with
speckled trout of the size of minnows, and at its mouth the large
trout congregated. As we rounded one of the points that shut out the
view of this bay from the lake, we saw two deer feeding quietly upon
the lily pads along the shore, some quarter of a mile from us. We
dropped quietly back behind the point, where Smith and one of the
boatmen prepared to take a shot at them. Martin took his seat in the
stern with his paddle, and Smith lay stretched at length along the
bottom of the boat upon boughs prepared for the occasion, with his
rifle resting upon the forward end of the boat. It was broad daylight,
and to paddle up within shooting distance of a deer under such
circumstances, in plain view of an animal the most wary, is a delicate
job, but it may be done. I have more than once been thus paddled
within thirty yards of a deer while feeding in the water. The wind
must be blowing from the deer to the hunter, or the scent will alarm
the animal, and he will go snorting and bounding away.
Smith and Martin passed silently out into the bay, and moved slowly
towards where the deer were feeding. The boat in which we sat was
permitted to float out to a position from which we could see the
sportsmen as they approached the game. Slowly but steadily they moved,
the paddle remaining in the water, sculling the little craft along as
if it were a log drifting in the water. The deer occasionally raised
their heads, looking all around, evidently regarding the boat as a
harmless thing floating in from the lake. After gazing thus about them
they stooped their heads again, and went on feeding, as if no danger
were near them. The hunters drifted within seventy or eighty yards of
the game, when a column of white smoke shot suddenly up from the bow
of the boat, and the report of Smith's rifle rang out sharp and clear
over the lake. We saw where the ball struck the water just beyond the
deer, passing directly under its belly, possibly high enough to graze
its body. At the flash and report of the rifle, the animal leaped high
into the air, bounded in affright this way and that for a moment, and
then straightened itself for the woods. We heard his snort as he went
crashing up the hillside.
Reader, should you ever drift out to this beautiful lake, you will
find on the ridge just above where Bog River comes tumbling, and
roaring, and foaming over the rocks into the lake, the charred remains
of a campfire, built against a great log that was once the trunk of a
tall forest tree. If you should visit it within a year or two, you
will perhaps notice some forked stakes standing a few feet from the
place of the fire, and a bed of withered and dry boughs (now fresh
and green). Well, our tents were stretched over those stakes, those
boughs were our bed, and those charred chunks are the remains of our
campfire, that sent a sepulchral light among the forest trees around.
The sounds that come upon the ear during the night in a far off place
like this, are peculiar. The old owl hoots mournfully, the frogs
bellow hoarsely along the reedy shore, while the tree toads are
quavering from among the branches of the scrubby trees that grow along
the rocky banks; the whippoorwill pipes shrilly in the forest depths;
the breeze murmurs among the foliage of the tall old pines, while the
everlasting roar of the waters, as they go tumbling down the rocks, is
always heard. However diversified these sounds may be, they all invite
to repose. They fall soothingly upon the ear, and though all are
distinctly heard, yet strange as it may seem, there is a strong
impression upon the mind of the deep silence pervading the forest.
This impression is doubtless occasioned by the utter dissimilarity
between the voices one hears in the day, from those which fall upon
the ear in the night time. The former are all joyous and happy, full
of gladness and merriment, full of life and animation; the latter
solemn, deep, profound, lulling to the senses; not sorrowful nor sad,
yet still such as form a calm and quiet lullaby, under the influence
of which one glides away into slumber, and sleeps quietly until dawn.
Then the voice of gladness breaks so tumultuously on the ear, that he
must be a sluggard indeed who can resist their wakening influences.
How beautifully the sun went down behind the hills, lighting up the
western sky, and the fleecy clouds floating in the heavens with a
blaze of glory, throwing a mantle of silver over the tall ranges and
mountain peaks that loomed up in solemn grandeur away in the east; and
how stilly, silently the stars came out from the depths above, and how
brightly and truthfully they were given back from away down in depths
beneath the placid waters. We had taken half a dozen beautiful trout
from the foot of the falls where the current shoots out into the lake.
We had eaten them too, and were sitting in front of our tents smoking
our evening pipes.
"Spalding," said the Doctor, "How I wish our little boys were out here
with us. How they would enjoy themselves among these lakes and rivers.
It is a hard lot that the children of our cities have in life. They
struggle up to man and womanhood against fearful odds, and the wonder
is, that they do not perish in their infancy; that they are not
blasted, as the blossoms are, when the cold east wind sweeps over
"You are right, my friend," replied Spalding. "I should like to have
our little boys, and girls too, for that matter, with us for a few
days out here on these lakes. It would be a lifetime to them,
measuring time by the enjoyment it would afford them. Still their city
habits might make them tire of this freedom in a week. You and I enjoy
it longer, because it brings back old memories and relieves us from
the toils of business and the restraints of conventional life. You
are right too in saying that the lot of our city children is a hard
one. To live imprisoned between long rows of brick walls, breathing an
atmosphere charged with the exhalations of ten thousand cooking
stoves, the dust of forges and the smoke of furnaces, machine shops,
gas works, filthy streets, and the thousand other manufactories of
villainous smells; where the summer air has no freshness, no forest
odors, or sweetness gathered from fields of grain, the meadows, or the
pastures. To tramp only on stone sidewalks. To know nothing of the
pleasant paths beneath the spreading branches of old primeval trees;
no soft grass for their little feet to press; never to wander along
the streams or the little brooks; to be strangers always to the
beautiful things spread out everywhere in the country in the summer
time. I always feel sad when I see the pale faces of the little
children of the great cities, and marvel how so many of them grow up
to be men and women. It is a hard lot to be cooped up in the city,
vegitating, as it were, in the shade, where there is no grass for
their little feet to press, no fences to climb, or fields to ramble
over, or brooks to wade, or running water on which to float chips, and
wherein to watch the little chubs and shiners dancing and playing
about, or fresh pure air to breathe, or birds to listen to. It is a
thousand pities that the cities could not be emptied every summer of
their little people into the free and open country, where they could
run about, and sport and play, and have free range and plenty of
elbow-room. It would make them so much healthier and happier, so much
more cheerful; their voices of gladness would ring out so much more
joyously in the morning, and their songs be so much more sweet
I remember an anecdote told me of a little child, born in the great
metropolis, who had never, until her fifth summer, been outside of the
paved streets of New York. Her mother had friends residing in one of
the up-river towns, owning a beautiful farm overlooking the Hudson,
and in early May she paid them a visit, taking her little daughter
with her. Mary, of course, was delighted. Like a bird freed from its
cage, she flew about here, there, everywhere, in-doors and out, among
the chickens and the pigs, the turkeys and the lambs, enjoying to the
full the thousand new things that her eyes rested upon all around her,
and her young spirits in wild commotion under the bracing influences
of the country air. "Mother! mother!" she exclaimed, as she came
dashing into the parlor, her beautiful curls floating wildly over her
shoulders, and her bright eyes wide open with wonder; "Mother I
mother! come out here, quick! and see this funny tree, all covered
over with snow-flakes, and how sweet it smells all around it." It was
a plum tree in full blossom. That little child had never seen the
beautiful spring blossoms on the fruit trees.
"I have no children of my own," remarked Smith, "and, therefore, may
not be regarded as the best authority in regard to the manner of
treating, or rearing children; but I have often wondered at the very
great mistakes people sometimes make in regard to them. There are
parents who mean no wrong, and yet who make no scruple of deceiving
them in reply to their simple questionings, forgetting, or regardless
of the fact, that a false answer to their innocent inquiries put in
good faith, and in the earnest pursuit of truth, may plant an error in
their minds, which may take years of experience, and often a painful
amount of ridicule to eradicate. I knew a little boy years ago, a
thoughtful, philosophic child, who speculated in his simplicity upon
what he saw, as great philosophers do, in their wisdom, upon the
various phenomena of Nature. His father, had a great barn, above
which, as was the fashion long ago, perched upon a staff, a few feet
above the ridgepole, was a weather-cock, fashioned out of a piece of
board in the shape of a rooster. 'Father,' said the little boy, one
day, 'what makes that rooster always point his head one way when the
cold wind blows, and the other way when it is warm and pleasant?' 'He
always looks towards the place where the wind comes from,' replied the
father; 'when he gets too warm, and the sun is too hot for him, he
turns his tail to the south, and the north wind is sure to come down,
cold and chill, to cool him off.' 'Does he call the cold wind, father,
and will it come when he looks, that way?' was the next inquiry.
'Certainly,' replied his father, carelessly. That was a wrong and a
foolish answer.
"That little boy, relying in his simple faith upon the wisdom and
truthfulness of his father, believed for a long time, that the
weathercock on the top of the barn, could bring the cold north, or
the warm south wind, by turning upon its perch. He was cured of his
error only by being laughed at for his simplicity. Parents should
never deceive their children by a careless or a wrong answer to the
simple questions put to them by these little searchers after
"I remember," said the doctor, "and it is one of the earliest
incidents which my recollection has treasured, that I was out one
evening in autumn, with a boy older than myself, gathering hazel nuts.
The sun had sunk behind the hills, and the shadows of twilight were
gathering in the valley. It was a beautiful and calm evening, the
solemn stillness of which, was only broken by the 'tza! tza!' of
thousands of katydids among the bushes. I asked my companion what it
was that made the noise I heard, and he, supposing that I referred to
sounds that came up occasionally from the lake, after listening for a
moment, answered that it was made by the wild geese. In my simplicity
I believed it, and it was not until I caught, the next season, a
katydid while it was in the act of singing, that I discovered that the
music among the hazel bushes was not made by the wild geese."
"I never respect a man or woman," said Spalding, "whose heart does not
warm towards little children, who takes no pleasure nor interest in
their society, who has no patience to listen to their simple thoughts
expressed in their simple way. 'Mother,' said a little child of four
or five years of age, one evening when the summer air was warm, and
the skies were bright above, as she sat beside her mother, on a bench
beneath the spreading branches of the tall old elms in front of the
house; 'mother, what makes the stars come out, only after the dark has
come down, and why don't the moon go up into the sky like the sun in
the day time?' I listened anxiously for the reply. I knew the kind
heart of that mother, how truthful it was, and how earnest and pure in
its affection for its gentle and only darling. 'Sit here upon my lap,
Mary,' said the mother, 'and I will try and explain it all so that you
will understand it.' And she told the little child how God made the
sun to rule the day, and the moon and the stars to rule the night; how
that the stars were always in the sky, but how the superior brightness
of the sun put them out in the day time; how the stars, that twinkled
like little rush-lights in the heavens, were great worlds, a thousand
times larger than this earth, made and placed away up in the sky, by
the same great and good God who made the world we live in. Little Mary
was silent and attentive to the simple lecture, until it was finished,
and then asked, so simply and confidingly, that I could not help
smiling to think that the mind of childhood should be running upon a
subject, and seeking a solution of the same question which has puzzled
the profoundest philosophers through all time: 'Mother,' said the
little one, 'are there people in the moon and in the stars, them great
worlds that look to us so like candles in the sky?' 'That question, my
child,' said the mother, 'I cannot answer.' 'I believe,' said the
child, that there _are_ people in the moon, and in all the stars.'
'Why?' asked her mother. 'Because I don't believe God would make such
big and beautiful worlds without making people to live in them.' What
more has the profoundest philosopher who ever lived said, to prove
that those mighty worlds which are seen in the heavens at night, that
are scattered all through the universe of God, rolling forever on
their everlasting rounds, are peopled by living, moving,
sentient beings?"
A CONVENTION BROKEN UP IN A BOW--THE CHAIRMAN EJECTED.
We sent forward our boatman with the luggage early in the morning, up
Bog River towards Mud Lake, the source of the right branch of that
river, lying some thirty miles deeper in the wilderness, counting the
sinuosities of the stream, and said to be the highest body of water in
all this wild region. We were to spend the day on Tupper's Lake, and
follow him the next morning. Our boatman built for our accommodation,
a brush shanty in the place of our tents. We rowed about this
beautiful sheet of water, exploring its secluded bays and romantic
islands, trying experiments with the trout wherever a stream came down
from the hills, and trolling for lake trout while crossing the lake.
Near the shore, on the west bank, perhaps half a mile from the falls,
is one of the coldest, purest and most beautiful springs that I ever
met with. It comes up into a little basin some six or eight feet in
diameter, by two or three in depth. The bottom is of loose white sand
which is all in commotion, by the constant boiling up of the clear
cold water. From this basin a little stream goes rippling and laughing
to the lake. Towards evening we returned to our shanty with abundance
of fish for supper and breakfast, taken, as I said, in simply trying
experiments as to where they were to be found in the greatest
If any sportsman who may drift out this way, is fond of taking the
speckled trout--little fellows, weighing from a quarter of a pound
down, the same he meets with in the streams of Vermont, in
Massachusetts, in Northern Pennsylvania, and. Western New York, let
him provide himself with angle-worms, and row to the head of the lake.
A short distance east of where Bog River enters, say from a quarter to
half a mile, he will find a cold mountain stream. Let him rig for
brook-fishing and take to that stream. If he does not fill his basket
in a little while, he may set it down to the score of bad luck, or
some lack of skill on his part in taking them, for the brook trout are
there in abundance. Across the lake from Long Island, to the right as
you go up the lake, is a bay that goes away in around a woody point.
At the head of this bay, "Grindstone Brook" enters. It is a smallish
stream, and comes dashing down over shelving rocks some thirty feet,
and shoots out into the bay among broken rocks, and loose boulders.
The waters of this stream are much colder than those of the lake. Let
the sportsman row carefully up towards the mouth of this stream, along
towards evening of a hot day, when the shadow of the hill reaches far
out over the lake, and cast his fly across the little current, and if
he does not take as beautiful a string of river trout as can be found
in these parts, let him set it down to the score of accident, for the
trout are there in the warm days of August. If he has a curiosity to
know what there is above these Little Falls, let him try his
angle-worms in the brook just over the ridge, and he will find out. I
claim to have discovered these choice fishing places some seasons
since, and have kept them for my own private use and amusement. Nobody
seemed to know of them. When the trout refused to be taken elsewhere,
I have always found them here, abundant, greedy, and ready to be taken
by any decently skillful effort. I regard these places as in some sort
my private property, and I mention them privately and in confidence to
the reader, trusting that my right will be respected.
We finished our evening meal while the sun was yet above the western
hills, and sat with our pipes around a smudge, made upon the broad
flat rock, which recedes with a gentle acclivity from the shore, where
the Bog River enters the lake, looking out over the stirless waters.
It was a beautiful view, so calm, so still and placid, and yet so
wild. The islands seemed to stand out clear from the water, to be
lifted up, as it were, from the lake, so perfectly moveless and
polished was its surface. On a grassy point to the right, and a
hundred rods distant, two deer were quietly feeding, while in a little
bay on the left, a brood of young ducks were sporting and skimming
along the water in playful gyrations around their staid and watchful
mother. On the outstretched arm of a dead tree on the island before
us, sat a bald eagle, pluming himself; and high above the lake the
osprey soared, turning his piercing eye downward, watching for
"I've been thinking," said Smith, as he refilled his pipe, "of what
the Doctor was saying the other evening about every body having a
streak of the vagabond in him, which makes him relish an occasional
tramp in the old woods among the natural things; things that have not
been marred by the barbarisms, so to speak, of civilization. I'm
inclined to believe his theory to be true, but I see a difficulty in
its practical working. Now, suppose, Doctor, that you and I being out
here together vagabondizing, as you term it, and your streak of the
vagabond being twice as large as mine, you would of course desire to
play the savage twice as long as I should. There would, in that case,
be a marring of the harmonies. I should be anxious to get back to
civilization, while you, being rather in your normal element, would
insist upon 'laying around loose,' as you say, for Mercy knows
"Gentlemen," said the Doctor in reply, "only hear this fellow! He's
getting homesick already. He has no wife, not a child in the world, no
business, nothing to call him home save a superannuated pointer, and
an old Tom cat, and yet he would leave these glorious old woods, these
beautiful lakes, these rivers, these trout and deer, and all the glad
music of the wild things, to-morrow, and go back to the dust, the
poisoned atmosphere, the eternal jostling and monotonous noises of the
city! Truly a vagabond and a savage is Smith. He's afraid that his
family, his mangy old pointer and dropsical cat, will suffer in
his absence."
"I scorn to answer such an accusation," retorted Smith, "I shall treat
it with dignified contempt, as I do the Doc medicines, which I never
take but always pay for, just to keep him from starving, and to make
him imagine he cures me. But speaking of cats reminds me of a certain
matter which occurred not many years ago. The Doctor here, if his
testimony could be relied upon, knows that I used to be troubled with
indigestion, and was sometimes a little nervous"----
"A _little_ nervous!" interrupted the Doctor, "why he would be as crazy
with the hypo as a March hare. He would insist that he was going to
die, or to the almshouse. He has made two or three dozen wills, to my
certain knowledge, under the firm conviction that he would be in the
ground in a week. A _little_ nervous, indeed!"
"Well," said Smith, "we won't quarrel about the degree of my
nervousness. But in regard to what I was going to say about cats. Some
years ago I occupied a suite of rooms in the second story of a house
rented by a widow lady, to whom I had been under some obligations in
my boyhood, and whom my mother always regarded as her best friend."
(Smith supported the excellent old lady in comfort for a decade, under
pretence of boarding with her, ministering to the last years of her
life with the care and affection of a son.) "The landlord of the
premises was the owner of a block of twelve houses--six on Pearl
street, and six on Broadway, the lots meeting midway between the two
streets. On the rear of these lots are the out-houses, all under a
continuous flat roof, some twelve feet high, twenty wide, and say a
hundred and fifty feet long. In the rear of the Broadway
dwelling-houses, are one story tea-rooms, or third parlors, the roofs
of which form a continuous platform, upon which you can step from the
second story of the houses."
"Well," said the Doctor, "what of all that?"
"There's a great deal of it," Smith replied. "I don't pretend to know
how many cats there were in the city of Albany. Indeed, I never heard
that they were included in the census. I do not undertake to say that
they _all_ congregated nightly on the roofs of those out-houses. But
if there was a cat in the sixth ward, that didn't have something to
say on that roof every night, I should like to make its acquaintance.
I am against cats. I regard them as treacherous, ungrateful animals,
and as having very small moral developments generally. I am against
_cat-_terwauling, especially in the night season, when honest people
have a right to their natural sleep. I don't like to be woke up, when
rounding a pleasant dream, by their growling and screaming, spitting
and whining, groaning and crying, and the hundred other nameless
noises by which they frighten sleep from our pillows.
"Well, one night, it may have been one o'clock, or two, or three, I
was awakened by the awfullest screaming and sputtering, growling and
swearing, that ever startled a weary man from his slumbers. I leaped
out of bed under the impression that at least twenty little children
had fallen into as many tubs of boiling water. I threw open the window
and stepped out upon the roof of the tea-room. I don't intend to
exaggerate, but I honestly believe that there were less than three
hundred cats over against me, on the roofs of the out-houses; each one
of which had a tail bigger than a Bologna sausage, his back crooked up
like an oxbow, and his great round eyes gleaming fiercely in the
moonlight, putting in his very best in the way of catterwauling. Two
of the largest, one black as night and the other a dark grey or
brindle, appeared to be particularly in earnest, and the way they
scolded, and screamed, and swore at each other was a sin to hear. I
won't undertake to report all they said; a decent regard for the
proprieties of language, compels me to give only a sketch of
"'You infernal, big-tailed, hump-backed, ugly-mugged thief,' screamed
the grey, 'I'd like to know what _you_ are out here for this time of
night, skulking, and creeping, and nosing about in the dark, poaching
upon other people's preserves?'
"'Very well I mighty well!' was the reply, 'for _you_, to talk, you
black-skinned, ogre-eyed, growling and sputtering robber, to come upon
this roof, sticking up _your_ back and taking airs on yourself. I'd
like to know what business _you've_ got to be prowling about and
crowding yourself into honest people's company?'
"'I'm a regular Tom Cat, I'd have you know, and go where I please, and
I'll stand none of your big talk and insolent looks.' "'Insolent!
Hear the cowardly thief! Insolent! Very well, Mr. Tom Cat! very good,
indeed! Now, just take your black skin off of this roof, or you'll get
what will make you look cross-eyed foe a month.'
"'Get off this roof, I think you said. Look at this set of ivory, and
these claws, old greyback! If you want I should leave this roof, just
come and put me off. Try it on, old Beeswax. Yes, yes! try it on once,
and we'll see whose eyes will look straightest in the morning! Come
on, old Humpback! Try it on, old Sausage Tail!'
"And then they pitched in, and such scratching and growling, scolding
and swearing, and biting, and rolling over and over, I never happened
to see or hear before. About that time I dropped a boulder of coal,
taken from the scuttle, weighing about half a pound, right among them
(accidently of course). Whether it hit any one I can't positively
affirm, but I heard a dull heavy sound, a kind of _chug_, as if it had
struck against something soft, and the scream of one of the
belligerents was brought to a sudden stop, by a sort of hysterical
jerk, as though there had been a sudden lack of wind to carry it on.
It put an end to the disturbance, and all the rioters, save one,
scampered away. That one remained, all doubled up in a heap like, as
if it had the sick headache, or been attacked with a sudden
inflammation of the bowels. If any body's cat was found the next
morning with a swelled head, or a great bunch on its side, and seemed
dumpish, it's my private opinion that that's the one that lump of coal
fell upon. Still it did'nt do much good in the way of relieving me
from the annoyance of these cat conventions. They continued to
congregate nightly on that long shed in the rear of my rooms. I wasted
more wood upon them than I could well afford to spare. I used up all
the brickbats I could lay my hands on. I threw away something less
than a ton of coal; and on two occasions came near being taken to the
watch-house for smashing a window in the opposite block. All this
proved of no avail. Indeed, my tormentors began at last to get used to
it, to regard it as part of the performance.
"The matter was getting serious. It became evident that either those
cats or myself must leave the premises. I had paid my rent in advance,
and was therefore entitled to quiet use and enjoyment, according to
the terms of my lease. I made up my mind to try one more experiment.
So I bought me a double-barrelled gun, and a quantity of powder and
shot, and gave fair warning that I intended to use them.
"Well, the moon came up one night, with her great round face, and went
walking up the sky with a queenly tread, throwing her light, like a
mantle of brightness, over all the earth. I love the calm of a
moonlight night, in the pleasant spring time, and the cats of our part
of the town seemed to love it too, for they came from every quarter;
from the sheds around the National Garden, from the stables, the
streets, the basements, and the kitchens, creeping stealthily along
the tops of the fences, and along the sheds, and clambering up the
boards that leaned up against the outbuildings, and set themselves
down, scores or less of them, in their old trysting place, right
opposite my chamber windows. To all this I had in the abstract no
objection. If a cat chooses to take a quiet walk by moonlight, if he
chooses to go out for his pleasure or his profit, it is no particular
business of mine, and I haven't a word to say. Cats have rights, and I
have no disposition to interfere with them. If they choose to hold a
convention to discuss the affairs of rat-and-mousedom, they can do it
for all me. But they must go about it decently and in order. They must
talk matters over calmly; there must be no rioting, no fighting. They
must refrain from the use of profane language--they must not swear.
There's law against all this, and I had warned them long before that I
would stand no such nonsense. I told them frankly that I'd let drive
among them some night with a double-barrelled gun, loaded with powder
and duck-shot--and I meant it. But those cats did'nt believe a word I
said. They did'nt believe I had any powder and shot. They did'nt
believe I had any gun, or knew how to use it, if I had; and one great
Maltese, with eyes like tea-plates, and a tail like a Bologna sausage,
grinned and sputtered, and spit, in derision and defiance of my
threats. 'Very well!' said I. 'Very well, Mr. TOM CAT! very well,
indeed! On your head be it, Mr. TOM CAT! Try it on, Mr. TOM CAT, and
we'll see who'll get the worst of it.'
"Well, as I said, the moon came up one night, with her great round
face, and all the little stars hid themselves, as if ashamed of their
twinkle in the splendor of her superior brightness. I retired when the
rumble of the carriages in the streets, and the tramp on the stone
sidewalks had ceased, and the scream of the eleven o'clock train had
died away into silence, with a quiet conscience, and in the confidence
that I should find that repose to which one who has wronged no man
during the day, is justly entitled.
"It may have been midnight, or one o'clock, or two, when I was
awakened from a pleasant slumber, by a babel of unearthly sounds in
the rear of my chamber. I knew what those sounds meant, for they had
cost me fuel enough to have lasted a month. I raised the window, and
there, as of old, right opposite me, on the north end of that long
shed, was an assemblage of all the cats in that part of the town. I
won't be precise as to numbers, but it is my honest belief that there
was less than three hundred of them; and if one among them all was
silent, I did not succeed in discovering which it was. There was that
same old Maltese, with his saucer eyes and sausage tail; and over
against him sat a monstrous brindle; and off at the right was an old
spotted ratter; and on his left was one black as a wolf's mouth, all
but his eyes, which glared with a sulphurous and lurid brightness; and
dotted all around, over a space some thirty feet square, were dozens
more, of all sizes and colors, and _such_ growling and spitting, and
shrieking, and swearing, never before broke, with hideous discord, the
silence of midnight.
"I loaded my double-barrelled gun by candle-light I put plenty of
powder and a handful of shot into each barrel. I adjusted the caps
carefully, and stepped out of the window, upon the narrow roof upon
which it opens. I was then just eighty feet from that cat convention.
I addressed myself to the chairman (the old Maltese) in a distinct and
audible voice and said, 'SCAT!' He did'nt recognise my right to the
floor, but went right on with the business of the meeting. 'SCAT!'
cried I, more emphatically than before, but was answered only by an
extra shriek from the chairman, and a fiercer scream from the whole
assembly. 'SCAT! once,' cried I again, as I brought my gun to a
present. 'SCAT! twice,' and I aimed straight at the chairman, covering
half a dozen others in the range. 'SCAT! three times,' and I let
drive. Bang! went the right-hand barrel; and bang! went the left-hand
barrel. Such scampering, such leaping off the shed, such running away
over the eaves of the outbuildings, over the tops of the wood-sheds,
were never seen before. The echoes of the firing had scarcely died
away, when that whole assemblage was broken up and dispersed.
"'Thomas,' said I, the next morning to the boy who did chores for us,
'there seems to be a cat asleep out on that woodshed, go up and
scare it away.'
"Thomas clambered upon the shed and went up to where that cat lay, and
lifting it up by the tail, hallood back to me, 'This cat can't be
waked up; it can't be scared away--its dead!' After examining it for a
moment--'Somebody's been a shootin' on it, by thunder,' as he tossed
it down into the yard.
"You don't say so!" said I. "That cat was the old Maltese--the
chairman of that convention. I don't know where he boarded, or who
claimed title to him. What I do know is, that it cost me a quarter to
have him buried, or thrown into the river; and that I was suffered to
sleep in peace from the time I made the discovery that _powder and
lead are great quellers of midnight rioting_. They gave _me_ quiet at
least, and saved me from the wickedness of the nightly use of certain
expletives, under the excitement of the occasion, which are not to be
found in any of the religious works of the day."
CHAPTER XII.
THE FIRST CHAIN OP PONDS--SHOOTING BY TURNS--SHEEP WASHING--A PLUNGE
AND A DIVE--A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER.
We started early the next morning up Bog River, intending to reach the
"first chain of ponds," some twenty miles deeper in the wilderness, as
the stream runs, on the banks of which our pioneer had been instructed
to pitch our tents. This day's journey, it was understood, would be a
hard one, as there were eight carrying places, varying from ten rods
to half a mile in length. The Bog River is a deep, sluggish stream for
five or six miles above the falls, just at the lake. It goes creeping
along, among, and around immense boulders, thrown loose, as it were,
in mid channel. At this distance, the stream divides, the right hand
channel leading to the two chains of ponds and Mud Lake, where it
takes its rise; and the left to Round Pond, and little Tupper's Lake,
and a dozen other nameless sheets of water, laying higher up among the
mountains. Our course lay up the right hand channel, which, for half
a mile above the forks, comes roaring and tumbling through a mountain
gorge, plunging over falls, and whirling and surging among the
boulders, in a descent of three of four hundred feet in all. Around
these, and seven other rapids of greater or less extent, our boats had
to be carried.
We reached the lower chain of ponds within an hour of sunset, and
found our tents pitched at a pleasant spot which looked out over the
easternmost one of these beautiful little lakelets. There are three of
them, connected together by narrow passages or straits, the banks of
which, as the boat glides along, the oars will touch. They are
surrounded by low but pleasant hills, so arranged as to form a varied
but delightful scenery. From the western one, the hills rise from the
water with a steep acclivity, covered with a gigantic growth of
timber, save on the northern side, where a pleasant natural meadow,
covered with rank grass and a few spruce and fir trees, stretches
away. It contains about two hundred acres, and its waters are deep and
pure. The middle one, though smaller, is equally beautiful, skirted on
three sides with wood-covered hills, and on the other by a
continuation of the same natural meadow. The eastern one, on the
western banks of which our tents were located on a beautiful little
bay, is the prettiest of them all. It contains perhaps six hundred
acres, and the scenery around it is exceedingly cheerful and pleasant.
The northern shore is bound by a natural meadow of luxuriant wild
grass, between which and the water is a hard sandy beach, at low water
some thirty feet wide, and extending between a quarter and half a
mile in length.
As we approached these ponds, the river became broad and shallow.
Natural meadows, covered with tall grass and weeds, stretching away on
either hand. When we came to this portion of the river, the oars were
shipped, and our boat-men took their seats in the stern with their
paddles. Smith was in the bow of one boat, and Spalding in that of the
other, each with rifle in hand, preparatory to the slaughter of a
deer, to provide us with venison. It was arranged that the marksman
who fired and failed to secure his game, should change places with the
one behind him, and that thus the rotation should go on, till we
should bring down a deer. We knew that we should see numbers of them
feeding along the margin of the stream, and upon the natural meadows
that skirted the shore. The stream was winding and tortuous, and at no
time could we see more than five-and-twenty rods in advance of us, so
crooked is its course.
We were moving up the stream cautiously and silently; the boatman who
had charge of the craft in which were Smith and myself, seated in the
stern, paddling, and Smith himself seated in the bow, with rifle in
hand, ready for anything that might turn up. As the boat rounded a
point, a deer started out from among the reeds on the right, and went
dashing and snorting across the river directly in front of the boat,
and five or six rods ahead, the water being only about two feet in
depth. Smith blazed away at him; where the ball went, Mercy knows; but
the deer dashed forward with accelerated speed, and a louder whistle,
and went crashing up the hill-side. Smith acknowledged to a severe
attack of the Buck fever. It was now my turn to take the next shot;
and changing places with Smith, we went ahead. In ten minutes a chance
to try my skill occurred. But it was a long shot, the game was "on the
wing," and I had no better success than did my friend. The deer only
increased the length of his bounds, and he too went plunging through
the old woods, snorting in astonishment, and huge affright at what he
had seen and heard.
Our boat now fell back, and Spalding and the Doctor took the lead. In
a short time, a deer was discovered feeding just ahead of us on the
lily pads along the shore. The boatman paddled silently up to within
eight or ten rods of him. Spalding sighted him long and, as he
averred, carefully with his rifle. The deer fed and fed on, and we
waited anxiously to hear the crack of the rifle, and see the deer go
down; but still the boat glided on unnoticed by the animal that was
feeding in unsuspecting security. At length he raised his head, threw
forward his long ears, gazed for a second intently at his enemies, and
then appreciating his danger, snorted like a warhorse and plunged in a
seeming desperation of terror towards the shore. He had ran a few rods
when Spalding let drive at him, as he confessed, at random. The ball
went wide of the mark, and the game dashed, with more desperate
energy, and whistling and snorting like a locomotive, into the brush
that lined the banks. It was Spalding's third shot in all his life at
a deer, and he insisted, gravely enough, that he did not fire while
the game was standing broadside to him, on account of his desire to
give the animal a chance for his life. The truth is, that Spalding had
a bad, a very bad attack of the aforesaid Buck fever.
The Doctor, by rotation, now became the leading marksman. He was cool
and calm, as if going to perform some delicate surgical operation. We
soon came in sight of a buck feeding in a shallow pasture, and the
boat glided quietly within fifteen rods of it. The Doctor's hand was
firm, and his aim steady. There was about him none of that nervous
agitation which is so apt to disturb the first efforts at deer
slaying. The boat came to a pause a moment, when his rule rang out
quick and sharp, waking the echoes of the mountains around and
reverberating along the shore. At the crack of the rifle, the buck
leaped high into the air, and plunged madly towards the bank, up which
he dashed with a prodigious bound, made a single jump among the tall
grass, and disappeared from the sight. The Doctor was greatly
mortified, supposing he had missed. He declared solemnly that he had
taken steady and sure aim just back of the fore-shoulders of the deer,
had a perfect sight upon it, and that it did not fall in its tracks,
could only be owing to its bearing a charmed life. The boatman,
however, knew that the animal, from its actions, was mortally wounded.
He said nothing, but paddled quietly to the shore, and there, just
over the bank, in the tall grass and weeds, lay the noble buck, stone
dead. He had gone down and died without a struggle. A proud man was
the Doctor, as he passed his hunting-knife across the throat of the
deer, and gazed upon its broad antlers, now in the velvet, pointing to
the course of the ball right through its vitals, in on one side and
out on the other. We had venison for the next four-and-twenty hours,
and we disturbed the deer no more that afternoon.
The deep baying of the stag-hounds, as we entered the little lake,
apprised us of the location of our tents, and we were glad to reach
them, and stretch our limbs upon the bed of boughs beneath them, for
the day had been warm, and our journey a weary one. Our pioneer had
made the entire journey the day before, though he had to pass over all
the carrying-places three times. We found that he had killed two deer,
and had the meat from them, cut into thin slips, undergoing the
process of "jerking," in a bark smokehouse erected near the tents. He
had also a beautiful string of trout ready for our supper, taken in a
way peculiarly his own. He had used neither bait nor fly.
After supper, as we sat looking out over the lake in front of our
tents, the Doctor inquired of our pioneer how he had taken his fish,
as he had with him neither rod nor flies, and there was no bait to be
found in the woods proper for trout.
"Why," said he, "I got lonesome yesterday, all alone up here in the
woods, waiting for you, and I thought I'd take a look around the shore
of the lake, thinking I might find a gold mine, or a pocketful of
diamonds, or something of that sort; so I took my rifle and the two
dogs, and started on an explorin' voyage. I didn't find any gold, but
I found, just across there by those willows and alders, a cold stream
entered the lake, and right in the mouth of it the trout were lyin' as
thick as your fingers. They were fine little fellows as I ever
happened to see, weighing about a quarter of a pound each. I had a
hook or two, and a piece of twine in my pocket, but they were of no
sort of use in common fishin', for I had no kind of bait, and couldn't
get any. After thinking the matter over, I concluded I'd see if I
couldn't bag some of them in a quiet way. So I cut me a long pole,
tied the hook and line to the end of it, and reaching out over the
water, dropped quietly down among them. I let the line drift gently up
against the one I wanted. He didn't seem to mind it, but was rather
pleased as the line tickled his sides. After letting it lay there a
moment, I jerked suddenly, and up came the trout clean over my head on
to the flat rock behind me. However this might have astonished him, it
didn't seem to disturb the rest. In that way I caught all I wanted,
and could have caught a bushel. It isn't a very science way of
fishin', but it answers when a man is hungry, and hasn't got any
bait or fly."
"I scarcely know why," said the Doctor, "but Cullen's account of
catching his trout, reminds me of a circumstance which occurred when I
was a boy, and which for the moment made a deal of sport. I have not
probably thought of it in twenty years, but it comes to me now as
fresh as though it were the occurrence of yesterday. It must be, as
Hank Wood said the other day, that a thing which gets fairly anchored
in a man's mind, remains there always, and covered up as it may be by
other and later things, it can never be forgotten. It will come
drifting back on the current of memory, fresh and palpable as ever.
"Everybody understands, or ought to understand, how sheep are washed.
A small yard is built on the bank of a stream adjacent to a deep
place. One side of which is open to the water, and into which the
flock is crowded. The washers take their places in the water, where it
is three or four feet deep, and the sheep are caught by others, and
tossed to them, where they undergo ablution (an operation by the way,
that they do not seem altogether to enjoy), to wash the dirt and gum
from their fleeces. On such occasions, it is regarded as a lawful
thing, a standing and ancient practical joke, to pitch any outsider,
who may happen to indulge his curiosity by stopping to look on, into
the stream. If he is verdant, he will be very likely to be inveigled
into the yard, and in an unguarded moment, be made to take an
involuntary dive, head foremost into the water.
"A few rods above the place in which my father washed his sheep, was
an old dam, the apron of which remained, and beneath which was a basin
some five or six feet in depth, and thirty or forty feet in diameter,
filled of course with water. On one occasion, a man who was employed
to catch the sheep, was one of those shiftless, good-natured, lazy
fellows, to be found in almost every neighborhood, who prefer smoking
and telling stories in bar-rooms to regular work, and who greatly
prefer odd jobs to consecutive labor. Tom G----was one of this genus,
full of fun and mischief, but without a particle of real malice in
his composition. As he was busy throwing sheep to the washers, a young
fellow from the neighboring village happened that way, and becoming
somewhat interested in the process, was seduced by Tom G----, inside
of the yard, to try his hand at catching and tossing in sheep. About
the second or third one he operated upon, his treacherous friend
stumbled against him, giving him a tremendous push, and with a sheep
in his arms he drove head foremost among the washers. The water was
cold, and there was a good deal of puffing and blowing about the time
his head came above the surface. He was a sensible chap, and took the
joke as a wise man should, especially when the odds are all against
him, albeit, it was somewhat rude.
"He came out on the other side of the stream, and after joining in the
laugh against himself, and taking off and wringing his garments, he
wandered up to the apron of the old dam, and stretching himself along
the planks, went to looking anxiously down into the deep water. After
a while, he seemed to have discovered something, and called out to his
friend below, 'I say Tom, have you got a fishhook in your pocket? Here
is a trout that will weigh two pounds, and I want to hook him up.' Now
Tom was a fisherman, and a big trout was his weakness; moreover, he
was never without half a dozen hooks and lines in his pockets. He left
his business at once, and went up to the apron to assist in taking the
two-pound trout. A pole was cut, and a couple of feet of line, with a
hook attached, was fastened a little way from the top, and the haft
of the hook stuck into the end so that by a little force it might be
removed, and Tom and his friend got upon the apron, and stooped over
to see where the great trout lay.
"'Here he is, Tom, just under the edge of this rock.' Tom stretched
himself over to get a view of the fish, when a vigorous shove from the
rear sent him like a great frog plump towards the bottom of the pool.
This was a consummation that Tom had not bargained for, but there was
no alternative but to swim for the shore, dripping like a rat from a
flooded sewer. That joke had two points to it, and Tom G----had the
worst of them."
"Your anecdote," said Smith, "reminds me of one in which I was an
actor, and which was impressed upon my mind by a process which few
boys are fond of, but which is very apt to make the impression
durable. _I_ fished for trout once without line or hook. I got a fine
string of them, and myself into a pretty kettle of fish in the
bargain. On my father's farm, as it was when I was a boy, was a stream
that came down through a gorge in the mountains that bounded the
pleasant valley in which that farm lay. In the spring freshets and the
summer rains, that stream was a mighty and resistless torrent, that
came roaring and plunging down from the plain above, cascading and
leaping down ledges and rushing though a gorge, on either side of
which precipices of solid rock stood straight up two hundred feet in
height. It was a goodly sight to see that stream when its back was up,
come rushing and foaming, a mighty flood from the deep and shadowy
gulf, rolling in its resistless course great boulders of tons upon
tons in weight, and eddying, and twisting, and roaring onward in its
furious course towards the lake. In the summer time the drouth lapped
up its waters, and it dried away to a little brook, trickling over the
falls, and went winding, a small streamlet, around the base of the
hill; sometimes it disappeared in the gravel, or among the loose
stones, save here and there a pool of narrow limits and shallow depth.
It was a fine trout stream at times. Its waters were cold and pure,
and the brook trout loved to hide away under the great smooth stones
or shelving rocks, and be comfortable in the shade, when the summer
sun was hot and fiery in the sky. When the creek was low, they would
congregate in the pools and still places, and in times of extreme
drouth, might be seen huddled together in such places in
great numbers.
"My father, though not a member of any church, was strict in his
family discipline in regard to the observance of the Sabbath, the
breach of which, on the part of his children, was very apt to be
followed by consequences not the most pleasant in the world, for he
held that a good switch was an essential article of household
furniture, and its occasional use a cardinal principle in the
philosophy of family rule. One Sunday, when I was some ten or eleven
years old, when the old people were gone to meeting (and they had to
go eight miles to find a meeting house), I, with an older brother,
tired of lying around the house, concluded to take a stroll along up
the brook. It was a time of severe drouth, and the stream was dried
up, save here and there a small pool, clear and cold, the bottom of
which consisted of smooth and clean-washed stones and pebbles. In one
of these was a number of beautiful speckled trout, averaging maybe a
quarter of a pound each in weight. Here was a temptation too strong to
be resisted. We had no hooks or lines with us, and would not have
ventured to use them _on Sunday_, if we had. That would have been
fishing. But the taking of those trout with our hands was quite
another matter. So, rolling our pants up above our knees (there was no
use of talking about shoes and stockings; such luxuries were not
within the range of indulgence to boys of our age in those days, save
in the frosts and snows of winter, and stubbed toes, stone bruises,
and thorns in the feet, come floating along down from the long past,
like shadows of darkness on the current of memory. By the way, will
some rich man, who was reared in the country in the good old times
when boys went barefooted in the summer months, when chapped feet,
stone bruises, stubbed toes, and thorns that pierced and festered in
their _soles_ were the great ills that 'darkened deepest around human
destiny,' solve for me a problem of the human mind? Will he tell me
whether, in his after life, when he was the owner of broad acres, fine
houses, piles of stocks in paying corporations, and huge deposits in
solvent banks, he ever felt richer or prouder when counting his gains,
and contemplating the aggregate of his wealth, than he did when he
pulled on his first pair of boots?) So, as I said, we rolled up our
pants, and waded in for the trout. We caught a beautiful string of
twenty or more, took them home, dressed them nicely, and sat them
carefully away in the cool cellar. We had a notion that the greatness
of the prize would wipe away the offence by which it was secured, and
that the delicious breakfast they would afford, would be received as a
sufficient atonement for the sin of having taken them on a Sunday. But
we were never more mistaken in our lives. My father went into the
cellar for some purpose in the evening, after his return from meeting,
and discovered the trout. An inquiry was instituted, our dereliction
was exposed, and we were promised a flogging. Now that was a promise,
which, while it was rarely made, was never broken. When my father in
his calm, quiet way, made up his mind and so expressed it, that he
owed one of his boys a flogging, it became, as it were, a debt of
honor, what, in modern parlance, would be termed a confidential debt,
and he to whom it was acknowledged to be due, became a prefered
creditor, and was sure to be paid.
"Well, the trout were eaten for breakfast, and after the meal was
over, my brother and myself were duly paid off, at a hundred cents on
the dollar, with full interest. That flogging cured me of 'tickling'
trout, especially on Sunday. I am never tempted to take trout with my
hands, without feeling a tickling sensation about the back; and though
old recollections of the long past, of that pleasant stream and the
gorge through which it flowed, with the side hill covered with old
forests above it, and the green fields spread out on the other side,
of the home of my boyhood, the old log-house, the cattle, the sheep,
the old watch-dog, and the thousand other things around which memory
loves to linger, come clustering around my heart, yet conspicuous
among them all, is the flogging I got for 'tickling' trout on
CHAPTER XIII.
A JOLLY TIME FOR THE DEER--HUNTING ON THE WATER BY DAYLIGHT--MUD LAKE
FUNEREAL SCENERY--A NEW WAY OF TAKING RABBITS--THE NEGRO AND THE
MARINO BUCK--A COLLISION.
As we came down to the lake in the morning to perform our ablations,
we saw a fine deer on the opposite shore, feeding upon the pond lilies
that grew along in the shallow water. It was nearly half a mile from
us, and while we were looking at it, four others came walking
carelessly out of the tall grass upon the beach, and commenced
playing, as we have seen lambs do, on the sandy shore. They would run
here and there, back and forth, at full speed along the sands, leap
high into the air, kicking up their heels, and performing all the
various antics of which animals so supple and active may be supposed
capable. We saw one fellow leap, with a clear bound, over two that
were standing looking out over the water, and run some fifty rods up
the beach, as if all the hounds in Christendom were at his tail, and
then wheel gracefully, and return with equal speed to his companions,
when they all commenced jumping and bounding, and running up and down
along the shore, as if they were out on a regular spree, and were
determined to be jolly. After half an hour of exceedingly active play,
they hoisted their white flags, and went bounding over the meadow into
The deer that was feeding paid no further attention to them than to
raise his head and look quietly, and perhaps contemptuously at them
occasionally, while he chewed his breakfast, that he was picking up in
the shape of lily pads upon the surface of the water. Spalding and a
boatman paddled across the lake to make Mm a morning call. It is a
curious fact that one skilled in the art will paddle or scull one of
these light boats to within a few rods of a deer while feeding, in
plain open sight, provided always that the wind blows _from_ the
direction of the animal, and no noise is made by the boatman. The deer
will feed on, and the time for paddling is while his head is down.
When he raises it to look about him, in whatever position the boatman
is, he must remain immovable. If his paddle is up, it must remain so;
not a motion must be made, or the game will be off, with a snort and a
rush, for the shore and the woods. The deer may, and probably will
look, with a vacant stare, directly at the approaching boat without
its curiosity being in the least excited, and then go to feeding
again. The marksman must take his aim while the game is feeding; when
it raises its head high in the air, throws forward its ears and gazes
at him for a moment with a wild and startled look, then is his time to
fire. Five seconds at the longest is all that is allowed him when he
sees these motions, for within that time, with its fears thoroughly
aroused, the game will be plunging for the shelter of the woods.
The boatman paddled Spalding quietly and silently to within twelve or
fifteen rods of the deer that was feeding, when a column of white
smoke shot suddenly up from the bow of the boat; the sharp crack of
the rifle rung out over the water, and the deer went down. Spalding
was a proud man as he returned to us with a fine fat spike buck in
These little lakes are probably sixty-five miles from the settlements,
allowing for the winding course of the rivers. Just above, where the
river enters, is a dam, built of logs some fifteen feet high, erected
by the lumbermen the last winter to hold back the water, so as to
float their logs down from this to Tupper's Lake, and so on down the
Rackett to the mills away below. Around this dam is the last carrying
place between this and Mud Lake, over which our boatmen trudged with
their boats, like great turtles with their shells upon their backs.
This is still called Bog River, and though above the dam to Mud Lake,
where it takes its rise, it is deep and sluggish, yet it is doing it
honor overmuch to dignify it by the name of a river. It was large
enough, however, to float our little craft. We left our baggage-master
here with most of our luggage, to perfect his operations in the way
of jerking venison, intending to return the next day. We might have
left everything without a guard, so far as human depredations were
concerned. No bolts or bars would be necessary for its protection. In
the first place, nobody would visit the spot, and if they did, our
property would be perfectly protected by the law of the woods. It
would be doubtless carefully inspected by any curious banter passing
that way, but theft or robbery are unknown here. True, a bottle of
good liquor, if handled by a visitor, might lose somewhat of its
contents, but it would be drank to the health of the owner, and in a
spirit of good fellowship, and not of theft, all which would be
regarded by woodsmen as strictly within rule, there being, as Hank
Wood said, "no law agin it."
We left the first chain of ponds, and rowed some ten miles up the deep
and sluggish but narrow channel of the river, startling every little
way a deer from its propriety by our presence as it was feeding along
the shore. Few sportsmen ever visit this remote region, and it is
above the range of the lumbermen. We came to some rapids near the
outlet of the second chain of ponds, around which we walked, and up
which the boatmen pushed their little craft. These rapids are a
quarter of a mile in length, with no great amount of fall, but still
enough to prevent the passage up them of a loaded boat. Directly at
the head of these rapids is the "second chain of ponds," three
pleasant little lakelets, of from two to four hundred acres each,
surrounded by dense forests, and shores in the main walled in by huge
boulders and broken rocks. We passed through these, in which were
several loons, or great northern divers, quietly floating, and as they
watched us, sending forth their clear and clarion voices over the
water. We took each a passing shot at them, but with no other effect
than to make them dive quicker and deeper, and stay under longer than
usual; at the flash of our rifles they would go down, and in a few
minutes would be again on the surface sixty rods from us, laughing
aloud, as it were, with their clear and quavering voices, at our
impotent attempts to shoot them.
We left the "second chain of ponds" by the narrow and sluggish inlets,
still the Bog River, here so small that the boatman's oars spanned the
narrow channel, and as crooked a stream as it is possible for one to
be. It flows for miles through a low and marshy region, with dense
alderbushes clustering along the shore, and scattering fir-trees, dead
at the top, standing between these and the forests in the background.
The bottom, much of the way, is of clean yellow sand, in which are
imbedded millions of clams, resembling, in every respect, those of the
ocean beach. Some of these we opened, and found the living bivalves in
appearance precisely like their kindred of the salt water. I have seen
occasionally muscle shells in other streams, and along the shores of
the lakes, but I never before saw any such as these save near the
ocean, where the salt water ebbs and flows, and not even there in such
quantities. One might gather barrels and barrels of them, large and
apparently fat, and yet there would be hundreds or thousands of
barrels left. The mink, the muskrat, and other animals that hunt
along the water, and have a taste for fish, have a good time of it
among them, for we saw bushels of shells in places where the fish had
been extracted and devoured.
We arrived at Mud Lake towards evening, and pitched our tent on a
little rise of ground on the north side, a few rods back from the
lake, among a cluster of spruce and balsam, and surrounded by a dense
growth of laurel and high whortleberry bushes. We saw a deer
occasionally on our route, and the banks of the stream in many places
were trodden up by them like the entrance to a sheep-fold. Why this
sheet of water should be called Mud Lake is a mystery, for though
gloomy enough in every other respect, its bed is of sand, and it is
surrounded by a sandy beach from fifteen to forty feet wide. It is
perhaps four miles in circumference, its waters generally shallow, and
so covered with pond lilies, and skirted with wild grass, as to form
the most luxuriant pasture for the deer and moose to be found in all
this region. Of all the lakes I have visited in these northern wilds,
this is the most gloomy. Indeed it is the only one that does not wear
a cheerful and pleasant aspect. It seems to be the highest water in
this portion of the wilderness, lying, as one of our boatmen
expressed it, "up on the top of the house." In only one direction
could any higher land be seen, and that was a low hill on the
western shore, not exceeding fifty feet in height. There are no
tall mountain peaks reaching their heads towards the clouds,
overlooking the waters; no ranges stretching away into the distance;
no gorges or spreading valleys; no sloping hillsides, giving back the
sunlight, or along which gigantic shadows of the drifting clouds
float. All around it are fir, and tamarac, and spruce of a stinted and
slender growth, dead at the top, and with lichens and moss hanging
down in sad and draggled festoons from their desolate branches. It is,
in truth, a gloomy place, typical of desolation, which it is well to
see once, but which no one will desire to visit a second time. We
noticed on the sandy beach tracks of the wolf, the panther, the moose,
and in one place the huge track of a bear. He must have been of
monstrous growth, judging by the impression of his great feet and
claws in the sand. But we saw none of these animals, and so gloomy is
the place, so sepulchral, such an air of desolation all around, that
it brings over the mind a strong feeling of sadness and gloom, and we
resolved not to tarry beyond the nest morning, even for the chance of
taking a moose, a panther, or a bear.
We pitched our tent, as I said, a little way back from the lake, near
a cold spring, that came boiling up through the white sand in a little
basin, eight feet wide, the bottom of which, like that on the bank of
Tupper's Lake, was all in commotion, boiling and bubbling, as the
water forced its way up through it. I was in the forward boat as we
approached the lake, and was surprised to see the number of deer
feeding upon the lily pads in the shallow water, and the wild grass
that grew along the shore. Some stood midside in the water, some with
only the line of their backs and heads above it. Some were close
along the shore, feeding upon the grass that grew there. Others still
were nibbling at the leaves of the moosewood upon the bank, and one
large buck stood by the side of a fir tree, rubbing his neck up and
down against it, as if scratching himself against its rough bark. We
had not been discovered, and waited for the other boats to arrive.
Great was the astonishment of my companions, when they saw the number
of deer that were feeding in this little lake. Neither of them had
ever seen the like, nor had I, save on one occasion, and that was in a
small lake, the name of which I have forgotten, lying a few miles
beyond the head of the Upper Saranac.
"You see that clump of low balsam trees on that point yonder," said my
boatman, as we lay upon our oars, pointing in the direction indicated.
"Well, from that spot, three years ago, I shot a moose out upon the
bar there, as it was feeding upon the lily pads and flag grass.
"I had heard from an old Indian hunter, about this lake, and the
abundance of game to be found here, and I made up my mind to see it.
So another hunter and myself agreed to come up here in July, and take
a look at matters, and find out whether the old copperhead told the
truth or not. We started about the middle of July, with our rifles and
provisions for a fortnight, and came up. We saw any quantity of deer
on the way. On the second chain of ponds, we saw, as we were rowing
along, a large panther walk out on to the top of a great boulder, and
look around, lashing his sides with his long tail, and then sit down
on his haunches with his tail curled around his feet, just as you've
seen a cat do. He was too far off for us to shoot him, and he saw us
before we got within proper distance, and stole away into the woods,
and we passed on. As we rounded the point just below the lake there,
and looked out upon the broad water, I saw the moose I spoke of,
feeding. We sat perfectly still, and permitted the boat to drift back
down the stream until we were out of sight. We then landed, and I
crept carefully and silently to that clump of fir trees. I had my own
and my companion's rifle both properly loaded. Having got a right
position, I sighted for a vital part, and fired. The animal rushed
furiously forward two or three rods, with its head lowered as if
making a lunge at an enemy, then stopped, and looked all around,
standing with its back humped up, and its short stump of a tail
working and writhing at a furious rate. I sighted it again with the
other rifle, and pulled. The animal plunged furiously for again for a
few rods, stopped a moment, and then settled slowly down, and fell
over on its side, dead. It was a cow-moose and would weigh as killed
five or six hundred pounds. I was a pretty proud man then, as that was
my first moose, and about as big feeling a chap as was Squire Smith
the other day, when he brought down that buck. I have shot two others
here since, one at each visit I have made."
The season for moose hunting along the water pastures, was nearly
over. They go back upon the hills in August, the food there being by
that time abundant. The tracks we saw were old ones, the animals
having passed there several days previously. I would not have it
supposed that the moose are abundant in any portion of this
wilderness. They have come to be few and far between, and exceedingly
wary at that. I could hear of none having been killed the present
season; but that there are some left, as well as bears, and wolves,
and panthers, the tracks we saw gave unmistakable evidence.
We saw no appearance of trout in this lake, or in the outlet of it
above the upper chain of ponds. The stream swarmed with chub and dace,
a rare circumstance with the streams of this region. Towards evening,
we saw numbers of little grey wood rabbits, hopping around among the
dense undergrowth on the ridge where our tents were situated,
squatting themselves down and cocking up their long ears, as they
paused occasionally to examine the strange visitors who had come among
them. They were very tame, not seeming to regard our presence as a
thing of much danger to them.
"Seeing those rabbits," remarked Smith, "reminds me of an anecdote of
my boyhood, which at the time occasioned me an amount of mortification
equalled only by the amusement it affords me, when I think of it in
after years. On my father's farm was a bush field, a place that had
been chopped and burned over, and then left to grow up with bushes,
making an excellent cover for wild wood rabbits. I had seen them
hopping about, when I went to turn away the cows in the morning, or
after them at night. I had a longing to 'make game' of them. I had a
brother a good deal older than myself, who was as fond of a joke as I
was of the rabbits, and who was quite as ready to make game of me, as
I was of them; so he told me, one day to put an apple on a stick over
their paths, high enough to be just above their reach, and a handful
of Scotch snuff on a dry leaf on the ground under it, and the rabbits,
while smelling for the apple, would inhale the snuff, and sneeze
themselves to death in no tune. Well, I was a child then and simple
enough to be gammoned by this rigmarole. I set the apple and the
snuff, but I got no rabbit, while I did get laughed at hugely for my
credulity. This satisfied me that people should never impose upon the
simplicity of childhood. I remember my mortification on the occasion.
It was so long ago that it stands out by itself, a mere fragment of
memory, with _all_ beyond it a blank, and a wide gap out this side. It
is an isolated fact, fixed in my recollection by the pain it
occasioned me."
"Your anecdote of the rabbits," said the Doctor, "reminds me of a
story told of a Dutchman, who discovered an owl on a limb above him,
and noticed that its face, and great round eyes, followed him always
as he walked around the tree, without its body moving at all. Seeing
this he concluded in his wisdom, that he would travel round the tree,
till the owl twisted its head off in watching him. So round and round
he went for an hour, and stopped only by having the conviction forced
upon his mind that the owl had a swivel in its neck."
"Strange," remarked Spalding, "how the hearing of one story reminds us
of another. I always admired the 'Arabian Nights,' because the stories
contained in that work hang together so like a string of onions, or a
braid of seed corn. The first is a sort of introduction to the second,
and the second an usher to the third, and so on through the whole. But
why the story of the Dutchman and the owl should remind me of another,
in which an old negro and a bellicose ram were the actors, is a matter
I do not pretend to understand, unless it be the extreme absurdity of
both. A gentleman of my acquaintance long ago (he was a middle-aged
man when I was a small boy. He was an upright and a good man. He has
gone to his rest, and sleeps in an honored grave, having upon the
simple stone above him no lying epitaph), had an old negro who
rejoiced in the name of Pompey, and a Merino buck, the latter a
valiant animal, that was ready to fight with anybody, or anything,
that crossed his path. Between him and the 'colored person,' was an
'eternal distinction,' an active and irreconcilable antagonism, that
developed itself on every possible occasion. The old Guinea man was
winnowing wheat one day, with an old-fashioned fan (did any of you
ever see one of these primitive machines for separating wheat from the
chaff, used by our fathers before the fanning mill was invented? It
was an ingenious contrivance, by which a man with a strong back and
of a strong constitution, could clean some twenty bushels in a single
day). While stooping over to fill his fan with unwinnowed grain, the
buck, taking advantage of his position, came like a catapult against
him, and sent him like a ball from a Paixhan gun, head foremost into
the chaff. Great was the astonishment, but greater the wrath of
Pompey, and dire the vengeance that he denounced against his
assailant. Gathering himself up, and rubbing the part battered by the
attack of his enemy, he retreated around the corner of the barn, and
procuring a rock weighing some twenty pounds, returned to the presence
of his foe, who was quietly eating the wheat that the negro had been
cleaning, evidently regarding it as the legitimate spoils of victory.
Getting down on all fours, and managing to hold the stone against his
head, Pompey challenged his enemy to combat. The buck, nothing loth,
drew back to a proper distance, and shutting both eyes, came like a
battering _ram_ against the stone on the other side of which was the
negro's head. As might have been expected, the challenger went one
way, and the challenged the other by the recoil, both knocked into
insensibility by the concussion. Pompey was taken up for dead, but his
wool and the thickness of his scull saved him. He gave the buck a wide
berth after that. He regarded him always with a sort of superstitious
awe, never being able to comprehend how he butted him through that big
stone. Explain the matter to him ever so scientifically, demonstrate
it on the clearest principles of mechanical philosophy, still Pompey
would shake his head, and as he walked away, would mutter to himself,
'de debbil helps dat ram, _sure_. Dere's no use in dis nigger's tryin'
to come round _him_. He's a witch, dat ram is, and ain't
nuffin else.'"
CHAPTER XIV.
A DEER TRAPPED--THE RESULT OF A COMBAT--A QUESTION OF MENTAL
PHILOSOPHY DISCUSSED.
We returned the next day to our camping ground. On the "Lower Chain of
Ponds," we found our pioneer and his goods all safe, no visitors
having passed that way in our absence. Smith knocked over a deer on
our passage down. I have said that just above our camp was a dam. It
was made in this wise: first, great logs were laid up, across the
stream, in the same fashion as the side of a log house, to the height
of about twelve feet, properly secured, and upon these, other and
smaller logs were laid, side by side, transversely, and sloping up the
stream at an angle of forty-five degrees, like one side of the roof of
a house. These long, slender logs, reached out over and beyond those
that were laid up across the stream, the lower part covered with
brush, and then with earth, so as to make a tight dam, the upper ends,
even when the dam was full, extending several feet above the top water
line. These logs, or perhaps they had better be called large and long
poles, for, when compared with the foundation timbers, they were
nothing more, have, of course, above where they are covered with brush
and earth, interstices, or crevices, between them.
On our return, and as we came in sight of the dam, I, being in the
forward boat, saw a small deer, laying stretched out upon these poles,
dead, hanging, as it were, by one foot. My impression was, that it had
been shot, and dragged up there, and left by our pioneer for the
present. We found, however, upon examination, that the deer had walked
up on the dam, probably to take a look at what was below, and on the
other side, when his foot slipped down between the poles, and he was
caught as in a trap. His leg was badly broken, and nearly severed by
his efforts to get loose, and the bark of the poles was worn away
within reach of his struggles. He had died where he thus got hung; and
there he was, stone dead, but not yet cold, when we found him. He was
a fine, fat, young deer, and died by one of the thousand accidents to
which the wild animals of the forest, as well as man, are exposed.
Upon relating this incident to an old hunter, I was told by him that
he once, while out in the woods, came upon the skeletons of two large
bucks, that, in fighting, had got their horns so interlocked and
wedged together, that they could not separate them, and thus, locked
in the death grapple, they had starved and died. There lay their
bones, the flesh eaten from them by the beasts and carrion birds, and,
bleached by the sun and the storms, the two skulls with the horns
still interlocked; and the narrator told me he had them yet at home,
fast together, as he found them, as one of the curiosities to be met
with in the Rackett woods.
"I've been thinking," said Spalding, in his quiet way, as we sat
towards evening, looking out over the pleasant little lake, watching
the shadow chasing the retiring sunlight up the sides of the opposite
hills, "I've been thinking how differently we act, and feel, and
talk--aye, and think, too--out here in these old woods, from what we
do when at home and surrounded by civilization. However we four may
deny being old, we cannot certainly claim to be young. We have all
reached the meridian of life, and though feeling few, if any, of the
infirmities of age, still, our next move will be in the downhill
direction. Yet, notwithstanding all this, we talk and act, and think,
and feel, too, like boys. I do not speak this reproachfully, but as a
fact which develops a curious attribute of the human mind."
"Well," replied the Doctor, "while it may be curious, it is
exceedingly natural. We have thrown off the restraints which society
imposes upon us; we have thrown off the cares which the business of
life heaps upon us. We have gone back for a season to the freedom, the
sports, the sights, the exercises which delighted our boyhood. And can
it be called strange that the feelings, the thoughts, and emotions of
our youth should come welling up from the long past, or that with the
return of boyish emotions, the language and actions of boyhood should
be indulged in again?"
"You will find," said Smith, "your old feelings of sobriety, of
thoughtfulness, your cautiousness, coming back just in proportion as
you tire of this wilderness life, and that by the time you are ready
to return to civilization, you will have become as staid, sober, and
reflective men of the world, as when you started, with as strict a
guard upon your expression of sentiment, or opinion, as ever."
"It is that 'guard' of which you speak," remarked Spalding, "over the
emotions, the sentiments of the heart, stifling their expression, and
chaining down under a placid exterior their manifestations, that
constitutes one of the broad distinctions between youth and manhood.
It is when that guard is set, that the process of fossilization, so to
speak, begins; and if no relaxing agency intervenes, the heart becomes
cold and hard, even before white hairs gather upon the head. I often
imagine that if men who really _think_, who have the power of
analyzation, of weighing causes and measuring results, would dismiss
that rigid espionage over themselves, would stand in less awe of the
world, in less dread of its accusation of change, and with the
fearless frankness of youth, declare the truth, and stand boldly up
for the right as they, _at the time_, understand it to be, without
reference to consistency of present views and opinions with those of
the past, the world would be much better off; progress would have
vastly fewer obstacles to contend against. But it is not every man,
even of those who _think_, who in politics, in religion, in science,
in anything involving a possible charge of inconsistency, of the
desertion of a party, a sect, or a principle, dare avow a change of
conviction or opinion, however such change may exist. This should
not be so. It belittles manhood, and makes slaves and cowards of men.
It is a proud prerogative, this ability and power of thinking. It is a
priceless privilege, this freedom of thought and opinion, and he is a
craven who moves on with the heedless and thoughtless crowd, conscious
of error, himself a hypocrite and a living lie, through fear of the
charge of 'inconsistency,' the accusation of change. 'Speak your
opinions of to-day,' says Carlyle, 'in words hard as rocks, and your
opinions of to-morrow in words just as hard, even though your opinions
of to-morrow may contradict your opinions of to-day.' There is a fund
of true wisdom in this beautiful maxim, if men would appreciate it. It
would correct a vast deal of error in politics, in religion, in
philosophy, in the social relations of life. Times change, and
struggle against it as they may, men's convictions will change with
the times. The man who says that his opinions never alter, is to me
either a knave or a fool. For a thinking man to remain stationary,
when everything else is on the move, is a simple impossibility. Time
was when the stage coach was the model method of travelling. It
carried us six, sometimes eight miles the hour, in comfort and safety.
But who thinks of the lumbering stage coach now, with its snail's pace
of eight miles the hour, when the locomotive with its long train of
cars, lighted up like the street of a city in motion, rushes over the
smooth rails literally with the speed of the wind. The scream of the
steam-whistle has succeeded the old stage-horn, and the iron horse
taken the place of those of flesh and blood. Change is written in
great glowing letters upon everything. It stands out in blazing
capitals everywhere. All things are on the move! Forward! and forward!
is the word. And who would, who CAN, stand still amidst the universal
rush? Only a century ago, from the valley through which the majestic
Hudson rolls its everlasting flood, westward to the mighty
Mississippi, westward still to the Rocky Mountains, and yet westward
to the Pacific, was one vast wilderness; interminable forests,
standing in all their primeval grandeur and gloom; boundless prairies,
covered with profitless verdure, over which the silence of the
everlasting past brooded; and above all these, mountain peaks, covered
with perpetual snows, upon which the eye of a white man had never
looked, stood piercing the sky. From the Atlantic coast to the
Mississippi, that old forest has been swept away. The broad prairies
have been, or are being, subjected to the culture of human industry;
even the Rocky Mountains have been overleaped, and beyond them is a
great State already admitted into the family of the Union, and a
territory teeming with an adventurous and hardy population, knocking
at its door for admission. The march of civilization has crossed a
continent of more than three thousand miles, sweeping away forests,
spreading out green fields, planting cities and towns, making the old
wilderness to blossom as the rose, scattering life, activity,
progress, all along the road it has travelled. The great rivers that
rolled in silence through unbroken forests, have become the highways
of trade, upon whose bosoms the white sails of commerce are spread,
and through whose waters countless steamboats plough their way. These
stupendous changes are the results of human energy, and they reach, in
their moral prestige, their progressive influence, through every vein
and artery of governmental and social compacts, affecting political
institutions, shaping national policy, and forcing, by their
resistless demonstrations, change and mutations of opinions upon
"As it has been in the past century, so it is now, and so it will be
through all the long future. Forward, and forward, is the word, and
forward will be the word for centuries to come. And why? Because all
men here, in this free Republic, are free to think, free to speak,
free to will, free to act. No traditions of the past bind them; no
hereditary policy controls their action; no customs, covered with the
dust of ages, fetter them; no physical or intellectual gyves, corroded
by the rust of centuries, are eating into their flesh. Because
thinking American men everywhere live in the present, ignoring and
defying the dead past, and building up the mighty future. Because they
'speak their opinions of TO-DAY in words hard as rocks, and their
opinions of TO-MORROW in words just as hard, although their opinions
of to-morrow may contradict their opinions of to-day.' They are
fearless of personal consequences. As free men, they will think, as
free men they will speak, and as such they will act, regardless of the
jibe and sneer of those who accuse them of change, of inconsistency,
of being mutable and unstable of purpose. The point to the march
of improvement, the advance in the actualities of life, and ask, 'When
every thing else is on the move, shall we stand still? Shall the
opinions of a quarter of a century, a decade, a year, a month ago,
remain unchanged, immutable, fixed as a star always, amidst the new
demonstrations looming up like mountains everywhere around us?'
"Man's life is short at best; a little point of time, scarcely
discernible on the map of ages; his aspirations, his hopes, his
ambition, more transient than the lightning's flash; but his opinions
may tell for good upon that little point occupied by his generation,
and he should 'speak them in words hard as rocks.' They may aid in
illuminating the darkness of the present, and he should therefore
'speak them in words hard as rocks.' They may have some influence in
building up and ennobling human destiny in the future, and he should
therefore 'speak them in words hard as rocks,' regardless of the
contumely heaped upon him by little minds for having thus spoken them.
What if the ridicule, the denunciations of the unthinking, the
sensual, the profligate, the unreflecting fools of the world be poured
upon him? What of that? To-day, may be one of darkness and storm. The
cloud and the storm will pass away, and the brightness and glory of
the sunlight will be all over the earth to-morrow. Let him 'speak his
opinions then of to-day in words hard as rocks, and his opinions of
to-morrow in words just as hard.' Let him speak his opinions thus on
all subjects within the range of human investigation, upon science,
philosophy, politics, religion, morals; and leave to little minds to
settle the question of consistency or change. Let his be the eagle's
flight towards the sun, and theirs to skim in darkness along the
ground, like the course of the mousing owl."
After it became dark, Smith and Martin went out around the lake night
hunting, and the rest retired to our tents. We heard the report of
Smith's rifle from time to time, and concluded that we should have to
court-martial him for a wanton destruction of deer, contrary to the
law we had established for our government on that subject. But on his
return, we ascertained that, though having had several shots, he had
succeeded in killing or, according to Martin's account, even wounding
but one, and that a yearling, and the poorest and leanest we had seen
since we entered the woods. Though it was thus diminutive in size,
Smith declared that he had seen, and shot at, some of the largest deer
that ever roamed the forest. He insisted that he had seen some, by the
side of which the largest we had looked upon by daylight, were mere
fawns, and thereupon he undertook to establish a theory that the large
deer fed by night and the smaller ones by day. This would have been
all well enough, were it not for the fact, understood by every
experienced night-hunter, that by the spectral and uncertain light of
the lamp, or torch, a deer, when seen standing in the water, or on the
reedy banks, is in appearance magnified to twice its actual
dimensions. To this Smith at last assented, since to deny the
proposition, involved the conclusion that he had killed the wrong
deer; for the one he shot at, as it stood in the edge of the water,
though much smaller than some he had seen, appeared greatly larger
than the one he killed.
HOOKING UP TROUT--THE LEFT BRANCH--THE RAPIDS--A FIGHT WITH A BUCK.
We started down stream in the morning, towards the forks, intending to
ascend the left branch to Little Tupper's Lake. We reached the forks
at three o'clock. Directly opposite to where the right branch enters,
a small cold stream comes in among a cluster of alder bushes on the
eastern shore. At the mouth of this little stream, which one can step
across, the trout congregate. We could see them laying in shoals along
the bottom; but the sun shone down bright and warm into the clear
water, and not a trout would rise to the fly, or touch a bait. We
wanted some of those trout, and as they refused to be taken in a
scientific way and according to art, it was a necessity, for which we
were not responsible, which impelled us to a method of capture which,
under ordinary circumstances, we should have rejected. I took off the
fly from my line, and fastened upon it half a dozen snells with bare
hooks, attached a small sinker, and dropped quietly among them. A
large fellow worked his way lazily above where the hooks lay on the
bottom, eying me, as if laughing at my folly in attempting to deceive
him, with fly or bait. I jerked suddenly, and two of the hooks
fastened into him near the tail. That trout was astonished, as were
half a dozen or more of his fellows, when they came out of the water
tail foremost, struggling with all their might against so vulgar and
undignified a manner of leaving their native element. We got as
beautiful a string in this way as one would wish to see, albeit they
laughed at our best skill with fly and bait; and the cream of the
matter was, that we had our pick of the shoal.
We pitched our tents at the foot of the second rapids, on a high,
moss-covered bank. The roar of the water sounded deep and solemn among
the old woods, as it went roaring and tumbling, and struggling through
the gorge. The night winds moaned and sighed among the trees above us,
while the night bird's notes came soothingly from the wilderness
"What a strange diversity of tastes exists among the people of this
world of ours," said the Doctor, addressing himself to me, as we sat
in front of our tents, listening to the roar of the waters. "You and
I, I take it, enjoy a fortnight or so, among these lakes, and old
forests, with a keener relish than Spalding or Smith here. I judge so,
because we indulge in these trips every year, while this is their
first adventure of the kind. But even you and I, however much we may
love the woods, however we may enjoy these occasional tramps among
their shady solitudes, would not enjoy them as a residence; and yet I
have sometimes thought I should love to spend the summers in a forest
home, alone with nature, with my pen and books, a fishing-rod and
rifle to supply my wants, and a friend to talk with occasionally.
"Many years ago, I was out on the Western prairies, some sixty days
beyond the region of bread; we had encamped on the banks of a stream,
along which a narrow belt of timber grew. More than a quarter of a
century has passed since I took that trip to look upon the Rocky
Mountains. There was no gold region laying beyond them then, or
rather, the enterprise of the Anglo-Saxon had not discovered its
existence, and the greed of the white man had not made the trail over
the mountains, or through their dismal passes, a familiar way. Along
in the afternoon we were visited by a trapper, who had, in his
wanderings, discovered the smoke of our camp fires. He was a
weather-beaten, iron man, of the solitudes of nature, who had wandered
away from his home in New England, and from civilization, into that
limitless wilderness. He was glad to see us, inquired the news from
the outer world, talked about York State, Vermont, the Bay State, and
then, after an hour's converse, as if his social instincts and
sympathies had been satisfied, he shouldered his rifle and started off
across the plain, towards a belt of timber lying dim and shadowy, like
a low cloud, upon the distant horizon. I watched him for an hour or
more, as he trudged away over the rolling prairie, growing less and
less to the view, until he became like a speck in the distance, and
then vanished from my sight. There was a solemn sort of feeling stole
over me, as this lonely hunter wended his way into the deep solitudes
of the prairies, to be alone with nature, communing only with himself
and the things scattered around him by the great Creator. He seemed to
be contented and happy. How different were his tastes from yours or
mine, my friends; and yet I felt as though it would have been easy for
me to have been like him, an isolated and solitary man, had
circumstances in early life thrown me into a position to have followed
the original bent of my nature."
"And yet," said Spalding, "if you will look into the philosophy of the
matter, you will see that this diversity of tastes, as you call it, is
not so great after all; that is, that the origin of the impulse which
sends some men away from society among the solitudes of the
wilderness, and of that which holds others in constant communion with
the busy scenes of life, is very nearly the same. It is the love of
adventure, of excitement, a restlessness for something new, a desire
for change. This impulse is controlled, shaped by circumstances of
early life, by education and association; but the foundation of it at
last is the thirst for excitement, the love of adventure. One man
wanders away into the wilderness in pursuit of it. Another plunges
into society in pursuit of the same thing. These hardy men who are
here with us, who were reared on the borders of civilization, enjoy
the solitudes of their wilderness quite as much, and upon the same
general theory, as we do the society to which we have been accustomed;
and they plunge alone into the one with quite as much zest as we do
into the other, in the pursuit of excitement. Here is Cullen, now, who
has spent more time alone in the wilderness than almost any other man
outside of the trappers and hunters of the prairies of the West, I
appeal to him if it is not rather a love of adventure than of nature
which sends him on his solitary rambles in the forests?"
"May be the Judge is right," replied Cullen, as he rubbed the shavings
of plug tobacco in the palm of his left hand with the ball of his
right, while he held his short black pipe between his teeth,
preparatory to filling it, "may be the Judge is right, I rather think
he is, and let me tell you I've met with some queer adventures, as you
call them, in these woods too; some that I wouldn't have gone out
arter if I'd known what they were to've been afore I started. I've
been movin' back from what you call civilization for five and twenty
year, because I didn't like to live where people were too thick, and
where there was nothing but tame life around me. I've a kind of liking
for the deer and moose, and haven't any ill will towards, now and then,
a wolf or a painter. I like a rifle better than I do the handles of a
plow, and I'd rayther bring down a ten-pronger than to raise an acre
of corn, and I don't care who knows it. There's a place in the world
for just such a man as I am yet, and will be till these old woods are
gone. Do you see that?" said he, rolling up his pantaloons to his
knees, revealing a deep scar on both sides of the calf of his leg, as
if it had been pierced by a bullet. "And do you see that?" as he
exhibited another deep scar above his knee. "And that?" as he showed
another on his arm, above the elbow. "Wal, I reckon I had a time of it
with the old buck that made them things on my under-pinin', and on my
corn-stealer, as they say out West. Fifteen years ago I was over on
Tupper's Lake, shantyin' on the high bank above the rocks, just at the
outlet, fishin' and huntin', and layin' around loose, in a promiscuous
way, all alone by myself, havin' nobody along but the old black dog
that you," appealing to Hank Wood, who nodded assent, remember. "That
dog," continued Cullen, "was human in his day, and if anybody has
another like him, and wants a couple of months lumberin' in the place
of him, I'm ready for a trade; he may call at my shanty. Wal, Crop and
I had Seen about all there was to be looked at about Tupper's Lake,
and havin' hearn some pretty tall stories about the deer and moose up
about the head of Bog River from an Ingen who'd hunted that section, I
mentioned to Crop one mornin' that we'd take a trip into them parts.
'Agreed,' said he, or leastwise he didn't say a word agin it, and, by
the wag of his tail, I understood him to be agreeable.
"Mud Lake, as you've discovered, aint very near now, and it was a good
deal farther off then. The settlements hadn't been pushed so far into
the woods then as now. But we put out, Crop and I, for Mud Lake; we
passed the eight carryin' places afore night, and reached the first
chain of ponds while the sun was hangin' like a great torch in the
tree-tops. I've seen a good many deer in my day, but the way they
stood around in those ponds, and in the shallow water of the river
below, among the grass and pond lilies, was a thing to make a man open
his eyes _some._ I saw dozens of 'em at a time, and if it didn't seem
like a sheep paster I would'nt say it. I had my pick out of the lot,
and knocked over a two-year-old for provision for me and Crop. I aint
at all poetical, but if there was ever a matter to make a man feel
like stringin' rhymes, that evenin' that Crop and I spent on the lower
chain of ponds, or little lakes on Bog River, was a thing of that
sort. The sun threw his bright red light on the tops of the mountains
away off to the East, spreading it all over the lofty peaks, like a
golden shawl, while the gorges and deep valleys around their base
rested in deep and solemn shadow. The loon spoke out clear, like a
bugle on the lakes, and his voice went echoin' around among the hills;
the frogs were out and out jolly, while the old woods were full of
happy voices and merry songs as if all nater was runnin' over with
gladness and joy; even the night breeze, as it sighed and moaned among
the tree-tops, seemed to be whisperin' to itself of the joy and
brightness and glory of such an evenin'. As the night gathered, the
moon, in her largest growth, came up over the hills and walked like a
queen up into the sky, and the bright stars gathered around her,
twinklin' and flashin' and dancin', as if merry-makin' in the
brightness of her presence. Away down below the bottom of the lake
were other mountains and lakes, another moon with bright stars
shinin' and twinklin' around her, other broad heavens just as distinct
and glorious as those which arched above us. Don't laugh, Judge, for
me and Crop saw and heard all that I've been describin' to you, and we
felt it too, may be quite as deeply as if we'd been bred in colleges
and stuffed with the larnin' of the books.
"I heard the cry of the painter, the howl of the wolf, and the hoarse
bellow of the moose that night, and Crop crept close alongside of me,
in our bush-shanty, and answered these forest sounds by a low growl,
as if sayin' to himself, that while he'd rayther keep oat of a fight,
yet, if necessary, in defence of his master, he was ready to go in.
Wal, we started on up stream next mornin', passed the second chain of
lakes, and went along up the crooked and windin' course of the stream,
till towards night we came in sight of Mud Lake. That lake is anything
but handsome to my thinkin'; you saw it was gloomy and solemn enough,
situated as it is away up on the top of the mountain, higher than any
other waters I know of in these parts. All about it are fir, and
tamarack, and spruce, the lichens hanging like long grey hair away
down from their stinted branches, while all around low bushes grow,
and moss, sometimes a foot thick, covers the ground. That, Judge, is
the place for black flies and mosquitoes in June. The black flies are
all gone before this time in the summer, but if you'd a taken this
trip the latter part of June, you'd have admitted that I'm tellin' no
lie. If there's any place in the round world where mosquitoes have
longer bills, or the black flies swarm in mightier hosts, I don't know
where it is, and shan't go there if I happen to find out its location.
I've a tolerably thick hide, but if they didn't bite me _some_, I
wouldn't say so. But you ought to have seen the deer feedin' on the
pond-lilies and grass in that lake I They were like sheep in a
pasture; and out some fifty rods from the shore was a great moose,
helpin' himself to the eatables that grew there. I laid my jacket down
for Crop to watch, and waded quietly in towards where the moose was
feedin'. I got within twelve or fifteen rods of him, and spoke to him
with my rifle. He heard it, you may guess. Without knowin' who or what
hurt him, he plunged right towards me for the shore; but he never got
there alive. You ought to have seen the scampering of the deer at the
sound of my rifle! Maybe there wasn't much splashin' of the water, and
whistlin', and snortin', and puttin' out for the shore among 'em.
"The next mornin', I got up just as the sun was risin', and a little
way down on the shore of the lake I saw a buck. Wal, he was one of
'em--that buck was. The horns on his head were like an old-fashioned
round-posted chair, and if they hadn't a dozen prongs on 'em, you may
skin me! He wasn't as big as an ox, but a two-year-old that could
match him, could brag of a pretty rapid growth. I crept up behind a
little clump of bushes to about fifteen rods of where he stood on the
sandy beach, and sighting carefully at his head, let drive. My gun
hung fire a little, owin' to the night-dews, but that buck went down,
and after kickin' a moment, laid still, and I took it for granted he
was dead. So I laid down my rifle, and went up to where he
was, and with my huntin' knife in my hand, took hold of his
horn to raise his head so as to cut his throat. If that deer
was dead, he came to life mighty quick; for I had no sooner
touched him, than he sprang to his feet, and with every hair standin'
straight towards his head, came like a mad bull at me. In strugglin'
up he overshot me; and as he made his drive one prong went
through the calf of my leg. I plunged my knife into his body, and the
blood spirted all over me. But it wasn't no use. He smashed down upon
me again, and made that hole in my leg above the knee. I handled my
knife in a hurry, and made more than one hole in his skin, while he
stuck a prong through my arm. I hollered for Crop, who was watching
the shanty as his duty was. The old buck and I had it rough and
tumble; sometimes one a-top, and sometimes the other, and both growin'
weak from loss of blood. May be we didn't kick and tussle about, and
tear up the sand on the beach of the lake _some!_ The buck was game to
the backbone, and had no notion of givin' in, and I had to fight for
it, or die; so up and down, over and over, and all around, we went for
a long time, until Crop made up his mind that my callin' so earnestly
meant something, and round the point he came. When he saw what was
goin' on, you ought to've seen how _he_ went in! He didn't stop to
ask any questions, but as if possessed by all the furies of creation
he lit upon that buck, and the fight was up. He with his teeth, and I
with my knife, settled the matter in less than a minute. But, Judge,
let me tell you, that buck was dangerous; and if Crop hadn't been
around, may be ther'd have been the bones of man and beast bleachin'
on the sandy beach of Mud Lake! I bound up my wounds as well as I
could--but it was tough work backin' my bark canoe over the carryin'
places on Bog River, and across the Ingen carryin' place, and from the
Upper Saranac to Bound Lake, with them holes in my leg and arm, and
the other bruises I received. When I got out to the settlements I was
mighty glad to lay still for six weeks, and when I got around again I
was a good deal leaner than I am now.
"My gun hangin' fire made my bullet go wide of the spot I aimed at. It
had grazed his skull and stunned him for a little time, and crazed him
into the bargain. I learned more fully a fact that I'd an idea of
before, by my fight with that deer, and it is this--that it's best to
keep out of the way of a furious buck with tall, sharp horns on his
head. He's a dangerous animal to handle.
"That's one of the adventures that I went out into the wilderness
arter, and found without lookin' for it; and I've found a good many
others that put me and Crop in a tight place more than once. I backed
him over all the carryin' places between Little Tupper's and the
Saranacs once, when he was too lame and weak to walk, and nussed him
for a month afterwards. But that's an adventer I'll tell another time.
There's a deal of excitement, as the Judge calls it, outside of the
fences, if people will take the pains to look for it there."
CHAPTER XVI.
ROUND POND--THE PILE DRIVER--A THEORY FOR SPIRITUALISTS.
We put up our tents the next evening, on a bold bluff near the outlet
of Round Pond, a picturesque and pleasant sheet of water, some eight
or ten miles in circumference. It lay there still and waveless, in
that calm summer evening, as glassy and smooth as if no breeze had
ever stirred its surface. All around it were old forests, old hills
and rocks, and away off in the distance were the tall peaks of the
Adirondacks, standing up grim, solemn, and shadowy in the distance.
These peaks are seen from almost every direction. They tower so far
above the surrounding highlands, that they seem always to be peering
over the intervening ranges, as if holding an everlasting watch over
the broad wilderness beneath them. This lake is probably more than a
thousand feet above the Rackett, and the river falls that distance
principally at the two rapids around which our boats were carried. The
rest of the way it is a deep, sluggish stream, so that the descent
may be reckoned within less than three miles. A ledge of rocks forms
the lower boundary of the lake, through which the water, at some
remote period, broke its way, and it goes roaring down rapids for
three-quarters of a mile, then moves in a sluggish current across a
plain of several miles in extent; then plunges down a steep descent
for over a mile and a half to subside again into quiet, and move on
with a sluggish current to plunge down the ledges again into Tupper's
Lake. There are no perpendicular falls of more than twenty feet, but
the water goes plunging, and boiling, and foaming down shelving rocks,
and eddying, and whirling around immense boulders, rushing and roaring
through the gorges with a voice like thunder. These falls are all
useless here, and probably will be for centuries to come; but were
they out in the "living world," in the midst of civilization, with a
fertile and populous region about them, they would soon be harnessed
to great wheels, and made utilitarian; the clank of machinery would
soon be heard above the roar of their waters. They would do an
immensity of labor on their returnless journey to the ocean. But here,
they are utterly valueless, wasting their mighty power upon desolate
rocks, rushing in mad and impotent fury forever through a region of
barrenness and sterility, so far as the uses of civilization are
concerned, a region where the manufacturer or the agriculturist will
never tarry, until the world shall be so full of people that necessity
will drive them to the mountains, to build up the waste places of the
earth. Opposite, and across the bay from where our tents were
pitched, I noticed that a small stream entered the lake, and Smith and
myself crossed over to experiment among the trout I knew would be
gathered there. We were entirely successful, for we took one at almost
every throw. I have more than once stated, that the trout of these
lakes and rivers, in the warm season, congregate where the cold
streams enter; and if the sportsman will search out the little brooks,
no matter how small, and cast his fly across where their waters enter
the lake or river, he will be sure to find trout in any of the hot
summer months.
We returned to camp before the sun went behind the hills, with our
fish ready for the pan, and our boatmen provided us with a meal of
jerked venison, pork, and trout, which an epicure might envy, and to
which a hard day's journey and an appetite sharpened by the bracing
influence of the pure mountain air, gave a peculiar relish. It was a
pleasant thing to see the moon come up from among the trees that
formed a dark outline to the lake away off to the east, and travel up
into the sky; to see how faithfully it was given back from down in the
stirless waters, and how the stars twinkled and glowed around it in
the depths below, as they did in the depths above. There was the
moon, and there the stars, all bright and glorious in the heavens
above; and there another moon, and other stars, as bright and
glorious, down in the vault below; the lake floating, as it were, an
almost viewless mist, a shadowy and transparent veil between. As we
sat, in the greyness of twilight, in front of our tents, a curious
sound came over the lake from the opposite shore, so like civilization
that it startled us for a moment. Here we were, fifty miles from a
house, away in the forest beyond the sound of anything savoring of
human agency, and yet we heard distinctly what was for all the world
like the blows of an axe or hammer upon a stake, driving it into the
earth. It had the peculiar ring, which any one will recognise who has
driven a stake into ground covered with water, by blows given by the
side instead of the head of an axe. These blows were given at
intervals so regular, that we all suspended smoking, certain that
there were other sportsmen beside ourselves in the neighborhood of
"Who in the world is that?" asked Smith, of Martin, who seemed to
enjoy our astonishment.
"That," replied Martin, "is a gentleman known in these parts as the
'Pile-driver.' He visits all these lakes in the summer season, and
though, as a general thing, he travels alone, yet he sometimes has
half a dozen friends with him. If you'll listen a moment, may be
you'll find that he has a friend in the neighborhood now who will
drive a pile in another place."
Sure enough, in a moment the same ringing blows came from a reedy spot
in a different part of the bay.
"The bird that makes that noise," said Martin, "is about the homeliest
creature in these woods. It is a small grey heron, that lights down
among the grass and weeds to hunt for small frogs and such little fish
as swim along the shore. When he drives his pile, he stands with his
neck and long bill pointed straight up, and pumping the air into his
throat, sends it oat with the strange sound you have heard. It is the
resemblance of the sound to that made by driving a stake into ground
covered with water, that gives him his name. He's an awkward, filthy
bird, but he helps to make up the noises one hears in these
wild regions."
"My first thought was," said Smith, "that we had got among the spirits
of the woods, and that they were 'rapping' their indignation at our
presence, there was something so human about it."
"By the way," remarked the Doctor, "and you remind me of the subject,
what a strange delusion is this Spiritualism, to the 'manifestations'
of which you refer, and how singular it is that men of strong natural
sense and cultivated minds, should be drawn into it. We all know such.
Their delusion, too, is stronger than mere speculative belief. It is a
faith which to them appears to amount to absolute knowledge. They have
no doubt or hesitancy on the subject. Their convictions are perfect;
such, that were they as strong in their faith as Christians, as they
are in the reality of Spiritualism, they would be able to move
"I have noticed this intensity of their faith," said Smith; "and while
I utterly reject the whole theory of Spiritualism, I could never join
in the ridicule of its earnest devotees. There is something that
commands my respect in this strong faith, when honestly entertained,
however stupendous the error may be to which it clings. There is
something, to my mind, too solemn for derision in the idea of
communing with the spirits of the departed, or that the time is
approaching when living men and the souls of the physically dead, are
to meet, as it were, face to face, and know each other as they are. It
is one which I can, and do reject, but cannot ridicule. The world,
however, regards it differently. And yet with all the contempt and
derision that has been poured upon this singular delusion, its
devotees have multiplied beyond all precedent in the history of the
world. They number, it is said, in this country alone, millions, and
have some forty or more newspapers in the exclusive advocacy of
their theory."
"The wise people of this world," said Spalding, "that is, those who
are wise in their day and generation, laugh at the believers in this
modern theory of Spiritualism. They pity them, too, as the unhappy
devotees of a faith which sober reason and all the experience of the
past prove to be as unsubstantial as the moonbeams that dance upon the
waters at midnight. Still these same devotees point to the
demonstrations of what they regard as living facts, phenomena palpable
to the senses, things that appeal to the eye, the ear, and the touch,
and say that these are higher proofs than all the dogmas of
philosophy, all the observation and experience of former times, all
the logic of the past. And here is the issue between Spiritualism and
the mass of mankind who deride and condemn it.
"Now, be it known to you, that I am no Spiritualist. I reject not all
the evidences of the phenomena upon which it is based, but I utterly
deny that such phenomena are the works of disembodied spirits. I
myself have seen what utterly confounded me, and while I reject all
idea of supernatural agencies, all interposition of departed spirits,
yet I have become thoroughly satisfied that there are more things in
heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy. These
phenomena of which the Spiritualists speak, I will not undertake to
pronounce all lies. Some of them are doubtless impostures--the work of
knaves, who speculate upon the credulity and superstitions which are
attributes of the human mind; but they are not all such. But while I
admit their reality, I insist that such as are so, are the results of
natural laws, which will one day be discovered, and which will turn
out to be as simple as the spirit which presides over the telegraph,
or that which constitutes the life of a steam engine. There may be,
and probably is, a great undiscovered principle which underlays these
spiritual manifestations, as they are called, and MIND is after it,
looking for it carefully; and what MIND has once started in pursuit of
earnestly, it seldom fails to overtake.
"I have sometimes amused myself by endeavoring to furnish a theory for
the Spiritualists to stand upon, based upon the demonstrations of the
past, the evidences brought to light by the researches of science,
which at all events should have about it truth enough to give color
and respectability even to an error as stupendous as that of
Spiritualism. This theory I have predicated upon the progress of the
material world, aside from animal life, showing that what may have
been impossible thousands of years ago, may be possible, or about
becoming possible now; that we are about entering upon a new era in
the advancement of all things towards perfectability, and that the
advent of that era may be marked by an established communication
between the living and the spirits of the departed.
"Science demonstrates that the material world presents in its history
an illustration of the great principle and theory of progress. It is
quite certain that our planet was once a very different thing from
what it is now; it differed in form, in substance, in compactness, in
everything from its present condition. We do not _know_ that it was
once wholly aeriform, mere gasses in combination, too crude to admit
of solidarity; but reasoning back from established facts, the
conclusion is almost irresistible, that this earth, now so rock-ribbed
and solid, so ponderous, so ragged with mountain ranges, and cloud
piercing peaks, was once but vapor, floating without form through
limitless space, drifting as mere nebulous matter among the older
creations of God. However this may be, it is regarded as quite
certain, that time was when ft was entirely void of solidity, void of
dry land, with no continent, island, or solid ground, with no living
thing within its circumference. It was thus passing through one of the
remote eras of its existence. It was then young, just emerging, as it
were, from nothingness, growing into form, assuming shape, and
gathering attributes of fitness for exterior vitality, preparing the
way for higher existences than mere inorganic matter. How long this
era existed, science has failed to demonstrate, but it passed away,
and solid land marked the next era of the earth's progress. It was
surrounded by an atmosphere absolutely fatal to animal life; an
atmosphere which, while it stimulated vegetable growth, no living
thing could breathe and continue to live. Hence it was, that
vegetation, gigantic almost beyond conception, covered its surface.
Fern, which is now a pigmy plant, nowhere higher than a few feet, grew
tall and overshadowing like great oaks, while oaks, it is fair to
presume, towered thousands of feet towards the sky. These stupendous
forests stood alone upon the surface of the earth; no animals wandered
through their fastnesses; no birds sported amidst their mighty
branches; noxious exhalations came steaming up from their tangled
recesses, and their gloomy shadows lay a mantle of darkness over
dreary and lifeless solitudes. The storms raged, and the winds howled;
the sun travelled its daily rounds, with its light dimmed and clouded
by the pestilential vapors it exhaled, and silence, so far as the
sounds of animal life were concerned, reigned supreme--the stillness
of the grave, the quiet of utter desolation, save the voice of the
wind or the storm, was unbroken all over the face of the earth.
Onward, and onward, rolled this mighty orb on its pathway through the
heavens, bearing with it no animal existences, freighted with no human
hopes--carrying with it nothing of human destiny. Man, with all his
lofty aspirations, his mighty schemes, his glory, and his pride, was a
thing of the future. He had not yet emerged from the eternity of the
past, to grapple with the present, or encounter the retributions of
the eternity which is to come. This was the era of gigantic vegetable
growth, and it had its uses; for it was preparing the way for higher
and more complicated existences. As the gases that surrounded the
earth became consolidated into vegetation, as this stupendous growth
decomposed the noxious atmosphere, drawing from it its grosser
particles and working them up into solid matter, extracting from it
what was fatal to animal life, this earth entered upon another era of
its progress.
"Animal life made its appearance. It was weak and feeble at first, but
a step removed from vegetable matter. The molusca, the polypi, and the
rudest forms of fishes, were, beyond question, the first of living
things. Science demonstrates that the water brought forth the first
creations endowed with animal vitality. How long this era continued no
man can tell. Then came the amphibise, gigantic animals of the lizard
kind; the sauruses, that could reach with their long necks and
ponderous jaws across a street and pick up a man, if street and man
there had been. Then came land animals, monstrous in growth, by the
side of which the elephant dwindles to the diminutive stature of the
dormouse. In all these advances, was a succession of steps, mounting
higher and higher, in complication of structure, each more perfect in
organism than its predecessor. Vegetation itself became more
complicated, and as it approached perfection lost its gigantic growth.
Solidarity, compactness in all things, became the order of nature; the
atmosphere surrounding the earth, became more and more fitted for
the higher and more complicated animal organizations. At last when
time was ripe for his advent, when the earth was fitted for his
residence, and the air for his breathing, MAN, the last and most
perfect in his structure, the most delicate and finished in his
organization of all living things, made his appearance. He stepped
from the hand of God, the only thinking, reflecting, the only
intellectual, responsible being, in all the world. He stood at the
head of created matter, with all things on the earth subject to his
will, and corresponding to his, condition, his attributes, his
necessities, and his instincts.
"Thus this great earth itself, has been but one continued illustration
of the great theory and principle of progress. From a beginning, lost
in the thick darkness of a past eternity, it has been marching forward
in a career as pause-less as the sun in his journeyings through the
sky, as clearly demonstrable as the growth of the germ that starts
from the buried acorn, and moves on to its full development in the
great oak. Science records with unerring certainty the progress of the
earth, and of animal life, from the lowest existences in the mollusca
and polypi, up to the superlatively complicated, and delicate
structure of man, tracing it step by step, until it is finished in the
noblest work of God, a human body coupled with an immortal soul!
"And here arises a question which science has not solved, and to which
the philosophy, the wisdom, the logic of the past can give no answer.
The earth, and the things of the earth, have been moving forward,
marching on towards perfectability always. Is this forward movement
finished? We have, in looking at the subject in the light of science,
a time when there was not on the earth, in the air, or in the water,
any living thing. We have an era when animal life was but a span
removed from vegetable vitality; we have an era of gigantic vegetable
growth; an era of gigantic but rude animal growth, and so on step by
step down to the advent of man. The previous combinations of animal
life and vegetable life passed away with the era in which they
flourished; one class succeeding another, each emerging from, and
stepping over the annihilation of its predecessor, till we come down
to the present--is there no future progress for this earth as a
planet? Is there to be no other era, where man himself, like the
sauruses, like the mastodon, shall have passed away, to be succeeded
by some nobler animal structure, some loftier intelligence, some more
cunning invention of the infinite mind?
"Man, great in intellect, powerful in mind, gifted with reason, and
having within him a spirit that is immortal, proud, glorious, aspiring
as he is, falls very far short of perfection in every attribute of his
nature. To say, therefore, that the prescience, the creative power of
the Almighty, reached the limit of its achievements in the creation of
man, is to impeach the omnipotence of God himself. Will any man insist
that the ingenuity of the Almighty is exhausted? May it not be, then
that the time will come when some sentient beings, as far superior to
man, as man is to the animals of the era of the lizards and the
amphibia, shall, like the geologists of the present day, be delving
among the rocks and rubbish of vanished ages, for evidences of the
existences of our own proud species at, to them, some remote period of
the world's progress?
"If these questions cannot be answered by the learned and the wise, if
science makes no response, and philosophy furnishes no solution of
them, who dare say that the world is not, even now, entering upon a
new era of progress, taking another step in the forward movement? May
it not be, that the time is coming when the barrier between the
living, and the disembodied spirit is to be broken down? When that
viewless essence, that mystery of mysteries, the spirit of life, the
immortal soul, shall be permitted to come back from the unknown
country, to impart to the people of this world, the wisdom, the
mysteries, and the glory of the next? May not this be the new era that
is about opening in the progress of all things? It may be asked, is it
not possible that a new principle is about being evolved, that will
admit of communication between the living and the physically dead? May
it not be that the world and its surroundings, have become so changed,
that what was impossible thousands, or even hundreds, of years ago,
may have become, or be about to become possible now? That the same
process which carried this earth forward from the beginning, that so
changed the atmosphere of old, rendered it fit to sustain animal life
in its rudest structure, that so changed it again, as to make it
capable of sustaining a higher order of animal organism, that kept on
changing, and improving the whole face of the earth, that so arranged
organic matter, as to make this world, at last, a fit residence for
man, may be going on still; approaching all things nearer, and nearer
to perfection, until we have arrived upon the threshold of an era,
when living men may commune with the spirits of the physically dead?
An era as yet but in its dawn, when the stupendous future can be seen
only as through a glass darkly?
"Remember, I do not assert my faith in a theory which is indicated by
an affirmative answer to these inquiries, for I have none. I give the
record of the earth's progress in the past, as it is written upon the
rocks, standing out upon precipices, brought to light by the
researches, and translated by the energy of science from forgotten and
buried ages. The deductions to be drawn from it, I leave to those who
have a taste for the speculative, neither believing in, nor
quarrelling with the theory which they may predicate upon it."
CHAPTER XVII.
LITTLE TOPPER'S LAKE--A SPIKE BUCK--A THUNDER STORM IN THE FOREST--THE
HOWL OF THE WOLF.
We spent the next day in coasting Round Pond, looking into its
secluded bays, and resting, when the sun was hot, beneath the shadows
of the brave old trees that line the banks. In floating along the
shore of this beautiful sheet of water, one can hardly help imagining
that in the broken rocks and rough stones piled up along the margin of
the lake, he sees the rains of an ancient wall, the mortar of which
has become disintegrated by time, and the masonry fallen down. He will
see at intervals what, from a little distance, seems like a solid wall
of stone, laid with care, and upon which the lapse of centuries has
wrought no change, so regular are the strata of which it is composed,
while an occasional boulder, large as a house, and covered with moss,
reminds him of the ruined tower of some stronghold. He will see, as he
rounds some rocky point, half a dozen of these gigantic boulders piled
together, leaning against each other with great cavernous openings
between, through which he can walk erect, and he involuntarily looks
around him for the armor of the ancient giants who piled up these
stupendous rocks and walled in the lake with these massive boulders.
As we swept around a point near the south shore of the lake, we saw a
deer at a quarter of a mile from us, feeding upon the lily pads that
grew along the shore. Spalding and myself were in advance of our
little fleet, and our boatman paddled us carefully and silently
towards the animal, using the paddle only when its head was down. He
would feed for a minute or two and then look carefully all around him.
Of us he took no particular notice, although we were within a hundred
and fifty yards of him; and even when we were within sixty yards he
seemed to regard us only as a log floating upon the water, or
something else which might be regarded as perfectly harmless. Spalding
was in the bow of the boat, and when within some eight rods of the
game, we lay perfectly quiet for a moment, when his rifle spoke out
and its voice rung and re-echoed among the surrounding hills as if a
whole platoon of musketry were blazing all around us. The deer made
three or four desperate leaps in a zigzag direction, and then went
down. When we got to him, he was dead. He was a fine two year old
buck, with spike horns, and in excellent condition. We took his saddle
and skin and passed on.
From Bound Pond we rowed up the inlet, a broad and sluggish stream,
full of grass and lily pads, to Little Tapper's Lake. We saw several
deer feeding along the shore that, discovering us as we rowed
carelessly along, went whistling and snorting away into the forest. As
we approached the lake, dark clouds gathered in the West; great ugly
looking thunderheads came rolling up from behind the hills higher and
higher; perfect stillness was all around us; the leaves were moveless
on the trees, and the voices of the birds were hushed.
"Squire," said Martin to me "I'm thinkin' we'd better go ashore and
put up our tents; there's a mighty big storm over the hill, and he'll
be down this way before many minutes."
And we rowed to a high point at a small distance, covered with spruce
and fir trees, and put up our tents on the lee side of it, so as to be
sheltered from the wind as well as the rain. This was the work of only
ten minutes; but before we had finished, the deep voice of the thunder
came rolling over the forest, and we could see the storm rising over
the hills, in a long black line, all across the Western sky. The
lightning darted down towards the earth, or across from cloud to
cloud, and the thunder boomed and rolled along the heavens, its deep
rumble shaking the ground like an earthquake. Presently, the hills
were hidden from our view, we heard the rush of the storm in the
forest on the other side of the river, then the splash of the big
drops on the water, and then the wind and the rain were upon us. For a
few minutes, I thought our tents would have been lifted bodily from
the ground, but the skill of our pioneer had provided against the
blast, and they remained standing safely over us. In a short time the
wind passed on, leaving the heavy rain to pour down in torrents, and
the deep voiced thunder to come crashing down to the earth, or go
rolling solemnly and heavily along the sky. It rained for an hour as
it can do only among these mountain regions. The clouds and the rain
at length swept on, and the bow of promise spanned the rear of the
retiring storm; a new joy seemed to take possession of the wild
things, and gladness and merriment sounded from every direction in the
old woods; a thin and shadowy mist hung like a veil over the water,
and a refreshing coolness, as well as brightness and glory, were all
around us. These storms of a hot summer day in this high region, if
one is prepared for them, are full of pleasant interest; they rise so
majestically, sweep along with such power, and pass away so
triumphantly, leaving behind them such a calm sweetness in the air,
that a journey to this wilderness would be imperfect in interest
without witnessing them.
We entered Little Tripper's Lake towards evening, at the north end,
and looking down south, one of the most beautiful views imaginable
opened upon our vision. Surrounded by low and undulating hills, dotted
with islands, with long points running far out into the lake, and
pleasant little bays hiding around behind wooded promontories, it
presented a wild yet pleasing landscape, on which a painter's eye
could not rest but with delight, and which, transferred to canvas,
would make a picture of which any artist might be proud.
By the way, I wonder that our artists do not summer among these
mountains and lakes, sketching and painting the transcendently
beautiful views they everywhere present. There is nothing like them on
all this continent. We talk about the scenery of Lake George. It is
all tame and spiritless compared with what may be seen here; it
possesses not a tithe of the variety, the bold and grand, the placid
and beautiful, all mingled, and changing always, as you pass from
point to point along these lakes. Why do not the artists whose
business it is to make the "canvas speak," drift out this way, and
deal with nature in all her ancient loveliness, clothed in her
primeval robes, and smiling in her freshness and beauty, as when
thrown from the hand of Deity? It would repay them for their labor,
and yield them a rich harvest of gain.
We had heard of the shanty in which we were to encamp, and we rowed
straight through the whole length of the lake towards it. We reached
it as the sun was going down, and stowed away our luggage before the
darkness had gathered over the forest. We took possession by the right
of squatter sovereignty, the owner being unknown, or at all events,
absent from the woods. This lake is one of the few in all this region
that I had never visited before, and is next in beauty to its
namesake, two days' journey nearer to civilization. It is about twelve
miles in length, and from one to two miles in width, with many
beautiful bays stealing around behind bold rocky promontories, and
sleeping in quiet beauty under the shadows of the tall forest trees
that tower above their shores. It is dotted, too, with beautiful
islands, some rising with a gentle slope from the water, covered with
scattering Norway pines, and a dense undergrowth of low bushes; others
are covered with tall spruce, fir, and hemlocks, standing up in
stately and solemn grandeur, their arms lovingly intertwined, through
the everlasting verdure of which the sun never shines; and others
still are gigantic rocks, rising up out of the deep water, all
treeless and shrubless, remaining always in brown and barren
desolation, on which the eagle and osprey devour their prey, and the
flocks of gulls that frequent the lake 'light to rest from their
almost ceaseless flight. Civilization has not as yet marred in
anything this beautiful sheet of water; even the lumberman has not
forced his way to the majestic old pines that tower in stately
grandeur above the forest trees of a lesser growth; not a foot of laud
has been cleared within thirty miles of it. The old woods stand around
it just as God placed them, in all their pristine solemnity, stately
and motionless; the wild things that roamed among them in the day of
old, are there still, and the same species of birds that sported in
their branches thousands of years ago, are there still. We heard the
howl of the wolf at night; we heard the scream of the panther; we saw
the tracks of the moose, and where he had fed on the pastures along
the shore; we saw the footprints of a huge bear in the sand on the
beach, and the deer-paths were like those that lead to a sheep-fold.
It was a pleasant thing to row along the shore, into the bays, around
the islands, and into the creeks that came in from other little lakes
deeper in the wilderness. The banks are mostly bold and bluff, the
rocks standing up four or eight feet from the water, or broken and
fallen like an ancient wall. Here and there is a long stretch of
beautiful sandy beach, on which the tiny waves break with a rippling
song, and from which bars go out with a gentle slope into the water.
We intended to remain here quietly for a few days, taking things easy,
rowing, and fishing, and hunting enough for exercise only. There is
plenty of deer, and trout, and duck, and partridge here, to be taken
with small labor; there are bears, and wolves, and panthers, in the
woods around. But these are fewer and harder to be come at than the
other game; there is an occasional moose too. We saw the tracks of all
these animals hereabouts, and we hoped to get a shot at some or all of
them before leaving the woods.
Reader, did you ever hear the wolves howl in the old woods of a Still
night! No? Then you have not heard _all_ the music of the forest. Some
deep-mouthed old forester will open his jaws, and send forth a volume
of sound so deep, so loud, so changeful, so undulating and variable in
its character, that, as it rolls along the forest, and comes back in
quavering echoes from the mountains, you will almost swear that his
single voice is an agglomerate of a thousand, all mixed, and mingled,
and rolled up into one. May be, away in the distance, possibly on the
other side of the lake, or across a broad valley, another will open
his mouth and answer, with a howl as deep, and wild, and variable, as
the first; and possibly a third and fourth, one on the right, and
another on the left, will join in the chorus, until the whole forest
seems to be fall of howling and noise; and yet not one of these
animals may be within a mile of you. To a timid man, there is something
terrific in the howl of the wolves; but in truth, they are harmless as
the deer, quite as wild and shy, and full as cowardly in the presence
of a man. They will fly as frightened from his approach, unless,
possibly, in the intense cold and desolation of winter, when driven
together and rendered desperate by hunger, they might be emboldened by
starvation to attack a man, but even this is among the apocryphal
legends of the wilderness.
"Hearing them wolves howlin'," said Hank Martin, as we sat in the
evening around our camp fire, "reminds me of a story Mark Shuff tells
of his experience with the critters; but mind, I don't pretend to
swear to its truth, for I don't claim to know anything about the facts
myself. I'll tell it as Mark told it to me, and if it turns out to be
too tough a yarn to take down whole, don't lay it to me. You know Mark
Shuff," said he, appealing to me, "and you may believe such parts of
it as you may be able to swallow, and the rest may be divided up, as
the Doctor said the other day, among the company."
"Go ahead," said the Doctor, "I'll take a quarter as my share of the
story, and you may cut it off of either end, or carve it out of the
middle. I'll take a quarter, tough or tender."
"You may set down a quarter to my account," said Smith, "and Spalding
shall take another." "Very well, then," said Martin, "I'll believe a
quarter of it myself, and so the case is made up, as the judge
"Well," repeated Martin, "you know MARE Shuff?" "Of course I know Mark
Shuff; and who, that has visited these lakes and woods don't know him?
He is a stalwart man, six feet in his stockings, strong, healthy, and
enduring as iron, I have had him as a boatman and guide about Tupper's
Lake, and the regions beyond it, more than once. He works at lumbering
in the winter, and if there is one among the hundreds, I had almost
said thousands, who make war, in the snowy season of the year, upon
the old pines of the Rackett woods, who can swing an axe more
effectually than Mark Shuff, his light is under a bushel--his fame
obscured. Mark works hard for four or five months, and lays around
loose the balance of the year. In the summer, he holds a cost as a
thing of ornament rather than use, and boots or shoes as luxuries, not
to be reckoned as among the necessaries of life. His hat, as a general
thing, is of straw, and minus a little more than half the brim. He
would be out of place, and out of uniform, as well as out of temper
with himself, if he was for any considerable length of time without
the stub of a marvelously black pipe in his mouth, filled with plug
tobacco, shaved and rubbed in his hand into a proper condition for
smoking. Mark, though by no means an intemperate man, is fond of a
drop now and then, and when he has just a thimbleful too much, the way
he will swear is emphatically a sin. And yet he is anything but
quarrelsome or contrary, even when a shade over the line of strict
sobriety. He is a great, strong, square-shouldered, big-breasted,
good-natured specimen of the genus homo, a giant in physical strength,
and were I a wolf, I would prefer letting him alone to any man in
these parts. When he gets just the least grain "shiny" (and he never
gets beyond that), and his oar goes a little wrong, or a twig brushes
him ungently, or his seat gets a little hard, he will express his
sense of its improper deportment by incontinently damning its eyes,
and so forth, as if it were a sentient thing, and understood all his
profane denunciations; but with all this, Mark never forgets to be
respectful, and, in his way, courteous to his employers. He has,
moreover, a sharp, clear eye in his head, and can see a deer, or any
other game, as quick, and shoot it as far as the best, and has as good
a knowledge of where they are to be found, as any man in these woods."
"Well," continued Martin, as he lighted his pipe by dipping it into
the embers and scooping up a small coal; "Well, Mark Shuff and a
friend of his by the name of Westcott, had a shanty one winter over on
Tupper's Lake; they were trappin' martin, and mink, and muskrat, and
wolves, when they could get one. They shantied on the outlet, just at
the foot of the lake, below the high rocky bluff round which the
little bay there sweeps. There wasn't any house then nearer than
Harriets Town, down by the Lower Saranac; but there was a company of
lumbermen having a shanty up towards the head of the lake, near where
the Bog River enters. Mark, one cold winter's morning, started on an
errand to the lumber shanty I speak of, calculatin' to return the same
evening. The lake was frozen over, and he took to the ice, as being
the nearest and best travelin'. The winter had set in airly, and the
snow had lain deep for months, and the game of the woods had got
pretty well starved out. Mark did'nt take his rifle with him, thinkin'
of course that he would see no game on the ice worth shootin', and a
gun would only be an incumbrance to him. Well, he did his errand at
the shanties, and started for home. I don't know whether he took a
drop or not, but they generally keep a barrel of old rye in the lumber
shanties, and my opinion is that Mark was invited to take a horn, in
which case, I'm bold to say, the horn was taken.
"However that may be, Mark started for home along in the afternoon,
and took to the ice, as he did when he went up in the morning.
Everything went right until he got within may be a mile of home, when
he heard, from a point of land, a little to the left of him, a sharp,
fierce bark, and turning that way, he saw a great shaggy,
fierce-looking wolf trot out from behind a boulder and squat himself
down on his haunches, and eye him as if calculating the probabilities
of his making a good supper. While Mark was looking at him, feelin' a
little oneasy, he heard another sharp bark, and from a point just
ahead of him another great wolf trotted out on to the ice, and sat
himself down, eyeing him with suspicious intensity. In a moment,
another came out right opposite to him, and then another, and another,
until Mark swears to this day that there were more than a dozen of
these fierce and hungry savages squatted on their haunches within
fifty yards of him.
"Mark, as I said, had no rifle, his only weapons being a hunting knife
and a heavy walking stick, which he carried in his hand. To say that
he was not frightened, would be stating what I don't believe to be
true, and I've heard him tell how his huntin' cap seemed to be lifted
right up on his head, as if every hair pointed straight towards the
sky. He looked at the wolves a moment, and then walked on; but the
animals trotted along with him, still, however, keepin' at a
respectful distance. Those in advance seemed inclined to cross his
path, as if to turn him towards the centre of the lake, while those
behind went further and further from the shore, as if to surround him;
and thus they travelled for near half a mile, Mark making for the open
water, which in the coldest weather is always to be found near the
outlet of the lake, determined, if they came to close quarters, to
take to that and swim for it. He had heard and knew that almost every
animal is afraid of the voice of a man; so he shouted at the top of
his voice, and as he said, ripped out some select and choice oaths,
which for a moment alarmed the wolves, and they fell back a few rods,
still, however, keepin' in a kind of half circle around him. But it
was'nt long before they began to gather in on him again, and though
his shoutin' and swearin' kept them at a good distance, yet they
seemed to be gettin' used to it, and it didn't alarm them as it did at
first. Mark had now got within reach of the water, and he felt
comparatively safe. He was not more than a quarter of a mile from
home, and cold as it was, he felt sure that he could swim
that distance.
"Before being compelled to take to the water, it occurred to him to
halloo for Westcott, which he did with all his might. The wolves
did'nt appear to care much about his hallooing, but kept trottin'
along between him and the shore, and before and behind him, drawin'
the circle closer and closer every ten rods; and Mark expected every
moment when they'd make a rush on him, in which case he'd made up his
mind to make a dive into the water, along which he was now travelin'.
Presently he saw Westcott, with his double-barrelled rifle, stealin'
along the shore, hid from the kritters by a high rocky point, within
some twenty rods of him. He felt all right then, for he knew that when
Westcott pinted that rifle at anything, something had to come. It was
a dangerous piece, that rifle was, 'specially when loaded and Westcott
was at one end of it.
"Mark was not more than fifteen rods from the shore, but that ground
was occupied by the wolves; on the right was the water, into which he
might at any moment be compelled to plunge; while both before and
behind him his advance and retreat was alike cut off. He had noticed
that whenever he stopped, the wolves stopped, as if the time for the
rush had not yet come, and it puzzled him to understand why they
delayed the onset. Seeing Westcott with his rifle, Mark determined to
treat his assailants to a choice lot of profane epithets, and the way
he opened on the cowardly rascals, he said, astonished even
himself. But while he was thus swearing at his enemies, he
discovered, as he thought, the reason why they had not attacked
him sooner. A troop of a dozen or more wolves broke cover
some distance up the lake, and came runnin' down towards where
he stood, for whose presence, no doubt, those around him were
waiting. Just then he saw WESTCOTT'S huntin' cap above the rocks on
the point, and saw his double-barrel poked out in the direction of the
leader of the pack, and he knew that that old grey-back's time had
come. Mark let off a fresh volley of profanity, and as the wolves
seemed preparing for a rush, WESTCOTT'S rifle broke the frozen
stillness of the woods, and old grey-back turned a summerset and went
down. The astonished wolves clustered together for a moment in
confusion, and the other barrel spoke out. Another of the pack bounded
into the air, and as he came down kicked and thrashed about in a most
oncommon way, and then laid still--while the way the rest put out for
the point, some distance up the lake, was a thing to be astonished at.
Mark threw up his hat, and hollered, and shouted, and swore, till the
last wolf disappeared into the forest, and then shoulderin' one of the
dead kritters, and WESTCOTT the other, started on home. The hides, and
the bounty on the scalps, made a good day's work of it; but Mark
swears to this day, that if the last dozen of wolves had been a little
earlier, or Westcott a little later, he'd a-been driven like a buck to
the water, cold as it was; and if they'd been a little earlier still,
he'd have been a goner. He never goes far from home since, without a
rifle; although with that he has no fear of wolves, yet he concludes
that a hunting-knife and a stick are no match for a whole pack of the
kritters, when made savage by the starvation of winter."
[Illustration: Westcott's rifle broke the frozen stillness of the
woods, and old greyback turned a summerset and went down. The
astonished wolves clustered together for a moment in confusion, and
the other barrel spoke out.]
While we were listening to the story of Mark Shuff and the wolves, the
old fellow over the water made the forest ring again with his howling.
He was answered from miles away down the lake by another. Their voices
kept the forest echoes busy, until we laid ourselves away in our
blankets, where we slept till wakened by the glad voices of the birds
in the early morning.
CHAPTER XVIII.
AN EXPLORING VOYAGE IN AN ALDER SWAMP--A BEAVER DAM--A FAIR SHOT AND A
MISS--DROWNING A BEAR--AN UNPLEASANT PASSENGER.
We started the next morning on an exploring voyage round the lake, to
look into the bays and inlets, try the fish and deer, and see what we
could see generally. We struck across to an island opposite our
landing-place, containing five or six acres, covered with a dense
growth of spruce, hemlock, and fir, with an occasional pine standing
with its tall head proudly above the other forest trees, while along
the ground the low whortleberry bushes, loaded with fruit, now just
ripening, grew. This island is near the south shore, and separated
from it by a narrow channel some twenty rods in width. We landed, and
were regaling ourselves upon the berries, leaving our boats and guns
on the lake side of the island. We had wandered near the centre of the
island, when three deer started up within two rods of us, and rushed
whistling and snorting in huge astonishment across the island in the
direction of the mainland, and dashing wildly into the water, swam to
the shore and disappeared into the forest. We, in truth, were little
less astonished than they, for we certainly expected no such game to
be hiding there, and when they leaped up so suddenly and plunged away,
crashing and snorting through the brush, it startled us somewhat; but
our boats and guns were on the other side of the island, and we could
only look on as they swam boldly to the shore without the power to
At the east end of the lake a large stream, deep, sluggish, and
tortuous enters, which we voted came from a lake or pond, back at the
base of the hills, seen some three or four miles distant in that
direction, and while the other boats passed in another direction,
Spalding and myself started upstream to explore it. As we advanced,
the alders and willows encroached more and more upon the channel,
until it became too narrow for rowing. Our boatman took his paddle,
and seated in the stern of our little craft, propelled it up stream
for an hour or more. The alders gradually contracted, the channel
becoming narrower until we were passing under a low archway of
branches, covered with dense foliage, through which the sunlight could
not penetrate. The arch grew lower and lower, and the channel
narrower, until we at last absolutely stuck fast among the branches of
the alders which, here grew almost horizontally over the stream. We
could not turn round, and to go further was absolutely impossible;
there was but one mode of extrication, and that was to back straight
out the way we had entered. Our boatman changed his position to the
bow of the boat, and after much labor and exertion, we started down
stream. After two hours of hard work, pushing with the oars and
pulling by the branches, we emerged into daylight, came out into the
open stream, not a little fatigued by our efforts to find the
imaginary pond at the base of the mountains.
This stream, with the broad alder marsh that stretches away on either
side, was doubtless once a beaver dam; and we thought we could
discover where these singular and sagacious animals had erected the
structure that made for them an artificial lake. Our theory on this
subject may have been true or false, but this much is a fact, that in
all this region of lakes and rivers, I have seen no alder or other
marsh of any considerable extent, save this. In the times of old, when
the Indian and his brother the beaver, lived quietly together, before
the greed of the white man had built up a war of extermination between
them, this must have been a glorious country for the beaver. The lakes
are so numerous and the ponds and rivers so fitted for them, that they
must have had a good time of it here for centuries. The Indians never
disturbed them, never made war upon them; their flesh was not needed
or fitted for food, and the value of their fur was unknown. Tradition,
speaking from the dim and shadowy past, tells us of the vast numbers
of these sagacious and harmless animals which congregated in these
regions, living in undisturbed quiet and happiness all the year,
building their dams, their canals, and cities on all the ponds,
rivers, and lakes hereabouts. But they are all gone now. I inquired if
any had been seen of late years, and could hear of but a single
family, which some ten years ago were said to dwell somewhere in the
vicinity of Mud Lake, the highest and wildest of all these mountain
lakes. The last of these was taken four or five years ago, since which
no sign of the beaver has been discovered. They are doubtless all
gone, and as this was their last abiding-place, they may be regarded
as extinct on this side of the Alleghany ranges, and probably on this
side of the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains. Like the beaver,
the Indian who turned against him, will soon be gone too. Annihilation
is written as the doom of both. The wild man must pass away with the
woods and the forests, before the onward rush of civilization, and
history will soon be all that will remain of the Indian and his
ancient brother the beaver.
Well, be it so, and who will regret it? It is a sad thing to see a
whole race perish, wiped out from the aggregate of human existence.
But in this instance, its place will be filled by a higher and nobler
race, and the hunting-ground of the savage and the pagan, be converted
into cultivated fields; where stood the wigwam, will stand the
farm-house; where the council-fires blazed, will stand the halls of
enlightened and Christian legislation; churches and school-houses, and
all the accompaniments of Christianity and civilization will take the
place of ancient forests; and educated, intellectual, cultivated minds
take the place of the rude, untaught, and unteachable men and women of
As we re-entered the lake, we saw a noble buck feeding along the
shore, a short distance from us. We dropped behind a point of willows,
from the outer edge of which we would be in shooting distance. We
paddled silently round the point, and there, within fifteen rods of
us, he stood, broad side to us, presenting as beautiful a mark as a
man could wish. I counted him certainly ours, when I drew upon him
with my rifle. Well I blazed away, and as I did so, he raised his head
suddenly, gazed in astonishment at us for a moment, with his ears
thrown forward, and in an attitude of wildness, and then dashed madly
away into the forest, snorting like a war-horse at every bound. I had
not touched him, and I knew it the moment I fired. Our little boat was
light and rollish, and just as I pressed the trigger, it rolled
slightly on the water and my ball passed over, but mighty close to the
back of that deer. I was mortified enough at this mishap, for I prided
myself on my coolness and marksmanship, and here was a failure
apparently more inexcusable than any that had occurred. But there was
no help for it. The deer was gone, and Spalding and the boatman
indulged in a hearty laugh at my expense.
Some half a mile up the lake, we saw a great turtle sunning himself on
a rock which was partly out of water. He was twice as large as any of
the fresh-water kind I had ever seen. His shell was all of two feet in
diameter, and his scaly arms, as they hung loosely over the side of
the rock, were as large as the wrists of a man. He was some six or
eight rods from us, and Spalding gave him a shot with his rifle. The
ball glanced harmlessly from his massive shell against the ledge
behind him, and starting from his sleep, he clambered lazily and
clumsily into the water.
We threw out a trolling line as we passed up the lake; but we caught
no trout. Along the shore, however, we caught small ones in plenty
with the fly. These shore trout, as I call them, seem to be a distinct
species, differing in many respects from the other trout of the lakes
or streams. They are uniform in size, rarely exceeding a quarter of a
pound in weight. They are of a whitish color, longer in proportion
than the lake, river, or brook trout, have fewer specks upon them, and
those not of a golden hue, but rather like freckles. They are found
among the broken rocks where the shores are bold and bluff, or near
the mouths of the cold brooks that come down from the hills. I caught
them at every trial, and whenever we wanted them for food. Their flesh
is white and excellent--better, to my taste, than that of any other
fish of these waters.
We rejoined our companions in a little bay that lay quietly around a
rocky promontory, where we found them enjoying a dinner of venison and
trout, under the shade of some huge firtrees, by the side of a
beautiful spring that came bubbling up, in its icy coldness, from
beneath the tangled roots of a stinted and gnarled birch. Happily,
there was enough for us all, and we accepted at once the invitation
extended to us to dine. Towards evening, we rowed back to our shanty.
The breeze had entirely ceased, and the lake lay still and smooth; not
a wave agitated its surface, not a ripple passed across its stirless
bosom; the woods along the shore, and the mountains in the back
ground, the glowing sunlight upon the hill-tops were mirrored back
from its quiet depths as if there were other forests, and other
mountains and hills glowing in the evening sunshine away down below,
twins to those above and around us. We saw on our return along the
beach, the track of a bear in the sand, that had been made during the
day, and we had some talk of trying the scent of our dogs upon it. But
it was too near night, to allow of a hope of securing him, even if the
dogs could follow, and we gave up the idea, promising to attend to
bruin's case another day.
As we sat with our meerschaums, in the evening, speculating upon the
chances of securing a bear, or a moose, before leaving the woods, a
wolf lifted up his voice on the hill opposite as, and made the old
forest ring again with his howling. He was answered as in the night
previous, from away down the lake, and by another from the hill back
of us, and another still from the narrow gorge above the head of the
lake. However discordant the music appeared to us, they seemed to
enjoy it, for they kept it up at intervals during all the early part
of the night.
"Seeing that bear's track, and hearing the howl of those wolves," said
the Doctor, "reminds me of a story I heard told by an old Ohio pilot,
whom I found in drifting down that noble river in a pirogue, some five
and twenty years ago. We tied up one night by the side of another
similar craft, that had gone down ahead of us, the people on board of
which had landed and built a camp-fire, and erected their tent. They
were strangers to us, but in those days everybody you met in the
wilderness which skirted the Upper Ohio was your friend, if you chose
to regard him so. I was a mere boy then, and was in company with my
father and three other gentlemen, who owned a township of land not far
from Cincinnati; that is not far now, considering the difference in
the mode of travelling between then and now, and we were on our way to
explore that township. I did not regard it as of much value then,
though it has since brought a heap of money to its owners. We found
the company belonging to the other boat busily employed in cooking a
supper of venison and bear-meat, they having in the course of the day
killed two deer and a bear that they found swimming the river. We were
invited to help ourselves; an invitation which, being cordially given,
we as cordially accepted. We had been passing during most of the day
through unbroken forests, standing up in stately majesty on both sides
of the river, and stretching back the Lord knows how far. After the
darkness gathered, the wolves made the wilderness vocal with their
howling. It was the first time I had ever heard them, and for that
matter the last, until since we have been in these woods: but when
that old fellow over the lake lifted up his voice last night, I
recognized it at once. I can't say I admired it as a musical
performance then, and I don't appreciate its harmony now. If there are
those who like it, why, _de gustibus non_, and so forth.
"But I set out to tell the story that the old Ohio pilot told that
night, while the travellers sat smoking around their camp-fires, and
the wolves were howling in the wilderness about us. I do not, of
course, vouch for its truth; I simply tell it as he told it to us. He
seemed to believe it himself, for he told it with a gravity of face,
and a seriousness of manner, which would ill comport with its falsity.
His hearers did not seem to regard it as passing belief, but they
laughed at the idea of drowning a bear.
"'Twenty odd years ago,' said the old pilot, as he lighted his pipe
and seated himself on the head of a whisky-keg, 'there warn't a great
many people along the Ohio, except Ingins and bears, and we didn't
like to cultivate a very close acquaintance with either of them, for
the Ingins were cheatin', deceivin', and scalpin' critters, and the
bears had an onpleasant way with 'em, that people of delicate narves
didn't like. I came out for some people over on the east side of the
mountains, lookin' land, in company with four men who had hunted over
the country. Ohio warn't any great shakes then, but let me tell you,
stranger, it had a mighty big pile of the tallest kind of land layin'
around waitin' to be opened up to the sunlight. It's goin' ahead now,
and people are rushin' matters in the way of settlin' of it, but you
could stick down a stake most anywhere in it then, and travel in
any direction a hundred miles climbin' a fence.
"'Wal, we came down the Alleghany in two canoes, and shantied on the
Ohio, just below where the Alleghany empties itself into it. We hid
our canoes, and struck across the country, and travelled about
explorin' for six weeks, and when we got back to our shantyin' ground,
we were tuckered out you may believe. We rested here a couple of days,
layin' around loose, and takin' our comfort in a way of our own. Early
one morning, when my companions were asleep, I got up and paddled
across the river after a deer, for we wanted venison for breakfast. I
got a buck, and was returnin', when what should I see but a bear
swimmin' the Ohio, and I put out in chase right off. I soon overhauled
the critter, and picked up my rifle to give him a settler, when I
found that in paddlin' I had spattered water into the canoe, wettin'
the primin' and makin' the gun of no more use than a stick. I didn't
understand much about the natur of the beast then, and thought I'd run
him down, and drown him, or knock him on the head. So I put the canoe
right end on towards him, thinkin' to run him under, but when the
bow touched him, what did he do, but reach his great paws up over the
side of the canoe, and begin to climb in. I hadn't bargained for that;
I felt mighty onpleasant, you may swear, at the prospect of havin'
sich a passenger. I hadn't time to get at him with the rifle, till he
came tumblin' into the dugout, and as he seated himself on his stern,
showed as pretty a set of ivory as a body would wish to see. There we
sat, he in one end of the dugout and I in the other, eyein' one
another in a mighty suspicious sort of way. He didn't seem inclined to
come near my end of the dugout, and I was principled agin goin'
towards his. I made ready to take to the water on short notice, but at
the same time concluded I'd paddle him to the shore, if he'd allow me
to do it quietly.
"'Wal, I paddled away, the bear every now and then grinnin' at me,
skinnin' his face till every tooth in his head stood right out, and
grumblin' to himself in a way that seemed to say, 'I wonder if that
chap's good to eat?' I didn't offer any opinion on the subject; I
didn't say a word to him, treatin' him all the time like a gentleman,
but kept pullin' for the shore. When the canoe touched the ground, he
clambered over the side, and climbed up the bank, and givin' me an
extra grin, started off into the woods. I pushed the dugout back
suddenly, and gave him, as I felt safe again, a double war-whoop that
seemed to astonish him, for he quickened his pace mightily, as if
quite as glad to part company as I was. I larned one thing, stranger,
that mornin', and it's this, never to try drownin' a bear by runnin'
him under with a dugout. It won't pay.'"
CHAPTER XIX.
SPALDING'S BEAR STORY--CLIMBING TO AVOID A COLLISION--AN UNEXPECTED
MEETING--A RACE.
"That story," said Spalding, "reminds _me_ of a bear story. I shall do
as the Doctor did, tell it as it was told to me. I did not see the
bear, but I know the man who was the hero of it, and his brother told
the story in his presence one day, and he made no denial. He at least
is estopped from disputing it, and we lawyers call that _prima facie_
evidence of its truth. It occurred a long time ago, when there were
fewer green fields in Oswego county and especially in the town of
Mexico, than there are now. The old woods stood there in all their
primeval grandeur. The waves of Ontario laved a wilderness shore, and
their dull sound, as they came rolling in upon the rocky beach, died
away in the solitudes of a gloomy and almost boundless forest. Here
and there a 'clearing' let in the sunlight, and the woodman's axe
broke the forest stillness as he battled against the brave old trees.
The smoke of burning fallows was occasionally seen, wreathing in
dense columns towards the sky. Civilization, enterprise, energy and
new life were just starting on that career of progress which has moved
onward till the wilderness, under the influence of their mighty power,
has been made to blossom as the rose. Those were pleasant times, as we
look upon them now, just fading into the dim and shadowy past, but
they were times of toil and privation. The arms of the men of those
times were nerved by the hope of the future, and the spirit that
sustained them was that of faith in the fact that the promise of
reward for their labor was sure.
"Do the men of the present day ever think what a gigantic labor that
was of clearing away those old forests? Contemplate a wilderness,
reaching from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, from the great lakes
and the majestic St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico, every acre of
which was covered with tall trees which had to be cut away one by one,
not with some great machine which mowed them down in broad swaths like
the grass of a meadow, but by a single arm and a single axe. Talk
about the Pyramids, the Chinese Wall, the great canals of the earth!
They sink into utter insignificance when compared with the prodigious
labor of clearing away the American forests, and spreading out green
fields where our fathers found only a limitless wilderness of woods.
The sons of these men who performed that labor, in my judgment, have a
better patent to preferment and honors than those who come from other
lands to claim their inheritance after it has been thus perfected by
such toil and hardships, and dangers as the history of the world
cannot parallel."
"I think, if I remember rightly," said the Dr., "you set out to tell a
bear story. You are now indulging in a sermon on progress. Allow me to
call your attention to the bear."
"I appeal to the court," said Spalding, addressing Smith and myself,
"against this interruption."
"The counsel will proceed," said Smith, with all the gravity of a
judge; "we hope the interruption will not be repeated."
"Well," said Spalding, resuming his narrative, "some fifty years ago,
two enterprising men (brothers) marched into the woods in the town of
Mexico, now in Oswego county, with their axes on their shoulders, and
stout hearts beating in their bosoms. They located a mile or more
apart, and began a warfare, such as civilization wages, against the
old forest trees. Men talk about courage on the battle-field, the
facing of danger amid the conflict of armed hosts, and the crash of
battle. All that is well, but what is such courage, stimulated by
excitement and braced by the ignominy which follows the laggard in
such a strife, to that calm, enduring, moral courage of him who
encounters the toil and hardships incident to the settlement of a new
country, and battles with the dangers, the long years of privation,
which lie before the pioneer who goes into the forest to carve out a
home for himself and his children? How much more noble is such
courage, how infinitely superior is such a warfare, one which mows
down forest trees instead of men, which creates green pastures, broad
meadows, and fields of waving grain, instead of smouldering cities,
and desolated homes! How much more pleasant is the sound of the
woodman's axe, than that of the booming cannon! How much more cheerful
the smoke that goes up from the burning fallow, than that which hangs
in darkness over the desolation of the battle field, beneath which lie
the dead in their stillness, and the wounded in their agony! But I am
losing sight of the bear."
"Exactly so," said the Doctor; "and we have not as yet had the
pleasure of making his acquaintance. Suppose you give us an
introduction to the gentleman."
"These interruptions are entirely out of order," gravely remarked
Smith; "they must not be repeated. The counsel will proceed."
"Well," resumed Spalding, bowing deferentially to the court, "one of
these settlers started one day across the woods to visit his brother.
There were few roads in those times, and these were laid out without
much reference to distance; they went winding and crooking every way
to avoid this hill, or that creek, or water course, or any other
impediment which nature may have thrown in the way, and a blind
footpath, or a line of marked trees, was more commonly travelled from
one forest house to another. The forester was tramping cheerfully
along, thinking doubtless of the good time coming, when his farm would
be shorn of all its old woods, when flocks and herds would be grazing
in luxurious pastures, tall grain waving in fields, the summer grass
clothing in richness meadows reclaimed by his labor from the
wilderness, and he should be at ease among his children. First
settlers of a new country think of these things, and it is because
they think of them, that their hearts are strong and buoyant with
hope. They live in the future, enduring the darkness and privation of
the present, in their faith in the brightness of the years to come.
Thus they wait in patience for, while they command success, and the
end of their toil is an old age of competence, and in the closing
years of life, quiet and repose. Well, he was enjoying these pleasant
visions when he saw, some thirty rods ahead of him, a huge bear, with
her cubs, 'travelling his way,' as the saying is, in other words
coming directly towards him. He was no hunter, and had with him no
weapon. He had heard strange stories of the ferocity of the bear when
her cubs were by her side, and to say that he was not horribly
frightened would be a departure from the strict requirements of truth.
He had heard, too, that a bear could not climb a small, straight tree,
and _he_ could. The question then was between climbing and running. He
was not much in a race, and he decided to climb; so selecting a
smooth-barked, perpendicular ash sapling, he started with might and
main towards the top. He went up, as he supposed, till he was out of
the reach of the bear, and held on, all the time keeping his eye on
the animal, and making as little noise as possible. The bear,
doubtless seeing that he was beyond her reach, passed on out of sight,
and after he remained till the danger was over, he concluded to come
down. He was astonished to find that his efforts to descend were
powerless. He seemed to have frozen to the tree. Upon looking around,
to his utter amazement, he found himself sitting on the ground, _with
both legs and arms locked fast around the, tree! He had not climbed an
inch, and the bear had not been aware of his presence in the woods!_
"That ash sapling was safe from that day. It stood then in the old
forest. The woodman's axe spared it. It stands now in the open field,
a majestic tree; its great trunk, eight feet in circumference, its
long arms covered with foliage, casting a broad shadow over the
pasture beneath, in which cattle and sheep seek for coolness and
ruminate in the heat of the summer days. It is pointed out as the tree
which the man who was frightened by a bear _didn't_ climb, and is
referred to as evidence of the truth of my story, as the Dutchman
proved the authenticity of his Bible, 'by the pictures.'"
"And that," said I, "puts _me_ in mind of a bear story, which has this
merit over both of yours--it is true. I can speak of it as a thing of
personal knowledge, occurring within my own personal experience. I
began the study of law in Angelica, the county seat of Alleghany
county, and as it was a good many years ago, it is fair to assume that
I was a good many years younger than I am now, and that the country in
that region was younger too. Everybody knows that Alleghany county is,
or used to be, a great place for whirlwinds and tornadoes. If they do
not, they may understand and be assured of the fact now. A few years
(less than twelve) ago, a black cloud came looming up in the
northwest, and started on its career towards the southeast. As it
swept along, it sent its fierce winds crashing, and howling, and
roaring, through the old forests, uprooting, hurling to the ground,
and scattering everything that encountered its fury. Houses, barns,
haystacks, fences, trees, everything were prostrated, and to this day
its track is visible in the swath it mowed through the old woods, from
sixty to a hundred rods wide, plain and distinct still, for miles and
miles. It was not of that tornado, however, that I propose to speak.
Others had preceded it, and in the country all about Angelica were
what were called 'windfalls.' These windfalls were neither more nor
less than the old tracks of these whirlwinds and tornadoes, that had
swept down the forest trees. Fire had finished what the whirlwind
begun. In time, blackberry-bushes had grown up among the charred
trunks of the old pines, and other trees, bearing an immensity of
fruit; and it was a pleasant resort for young people, one of those
windfalls, when the blackberries were ripe and luscious. These
windfalls were great places, too, for rabbits, partridges, and 'such
small deer,' and it was no great thing to boast of, to kill a dozen or
two of the birds of an afternoon.
"I went out with a friend one day to one of these windfalls, partly
after blackberries, and partly for partridges. We were both boys,
younger than fifteen, then, and each possessing, probably, quite as
much discretion as valor. We had separated a short distance from each
other, he to gather berries, and I, with a small fowling-piece, in
pursuit of game. Presently I saw my friend crashing through the brush
towards me, and also towards the fields, without his basket, and bare
headed, his hair standing straight up, putting in his very best jumps,
as if a thousand tigers were at his heels. Without heeding for a
moment my anxious inquiries as to what was the matter, he kept right
on, leaping the logs like a deer, looking neither to the right hand
nor the left, but with his coat tail sticking out on a dead level
behind, making a straight wake for home. Fear is said to be
contagious, and I believe in the doctrine that it is so. I caught it
bad; and without knowing what I was afraid of, I started, and if any
fourteen year old boy can make better time than I did on that
occasion, I should like to see him run. I kept possession of my
fowling-piece, and came out neck and neck with my friend. We scrambled
over the outer fence, and ran some dozen rods or more in the open
field, without either of us looking back. Then, however, we made the
astounding discovery, that there was nothing after us, and we both
paused to take breath, and, so far as I was concerned, to ascertain,
if possible, what had occasioned the race. I learned that my friend,
after I left him, had gone into the windfall, and was standing upon
the long trunk of a fallen tree, picking berries, when he saw, a few
rods from him towards the other end of the log on which he was
standing, a great black hand reach up and bend down a tall
blackberry-bush that was loaded with berries. This alarmed him
somewhat, for whoever the great black hand belonged to was concealed
by the thick bushes and their foliage from his view. Presently, two
great black hands were placed upon the log, and a huge black bear
clambered lazily up, and, for a second, stood in utter amazement, face
to face, and within fifty feet of my friend. Both broke at the same
instant, in affright; my friend in one direction, and the bear in the
other--my friend for the fields, and the bear for the deep woods--and
each as anxious as fear could make him to put a 'broad belt of
country' between them. My friend dropped his basket, as he leaped from
the log; it was no time to stop for a basket; a limb caught his hat
and pulled it off; he had not time to stop for his hat. The truth is,
he was in a hurry, and something more than a hat or a basket was
required to stay his progress towards home."
"The Squire's story," said Cullen, as he knocked the ashes from his
pipe, and commenced shaving a fresh supply of tobacco with his
jack-knife, and depositing it in the palm of his left hand, "the
Squire's story reminds me of an adventer Crop and I met with, over
towards St. Regis Lake, a good many year ago; and I'll state the
circumstances of the case, as the Judge would say. It was an adventer
that don't happen often--leastwise, not in the same way. It made me
understand some things that I hadn't much idea of before. Let me tell
you, Judge, if you don't want a fight with an animal that's got long
claws and sharp teeth, don't come close upon him onawares, or may be
there'll be trouble. Give him time to think, and ten to one he'll take
to his heels. Most animals have more confidence in their legs than
they have in their teeth and claws, and they'll be very likely to use
'em, if you'll give 'em time to consider. But if you find a painter,
or a bear, takin' a nap in your path, and don't want to have a clinch
with him, wake him up before you get right onto him, or he'll be very
likely to think he's cornered, and them animals have onpleasant ways
with 'em when they're in that fix.
"Wal, as I was sayin', Crop and I was over on St. Regis Lake, layin'
in a store of jerked venison, and trappin' martin, and mink, and
muskrat, and huntin' wolves, and sich other wild animals as came in
our way. The scalp of a wolf was good for fifteen dollars in them
days, and a backload of furs was worth a heap of money. We had a line
of martin traps leadin' back to the hills, and over into a valley
beyond, where the animal was plentier than they were on our side. In
passin' along this line, we had to round the end of a hill that
terminated in a sharp point of rocks. In a deep gully at its foot, a
stream went surgin' over rapids; the bank on the side towards the hill
was, may be, twenty feet high, and a right up and down ledge. Above
this ledge, and between it and the rocky point, was a narrow path,
only three or four feet wide, that turned short around the end of the
hill. On the left hand was the ledge, and at the bottom of it were
broken rocks, and on the right was a bluff point of rocks, that made
up the end of the hill, standin' straight up, may be, fifty feet.
Around this point, the path turned sharp almost as your elbow.
"I was passin' quietly round this pint, lookin' down into the gully,
with Crop at my heels, when, on turnin' the short elbow, there I
stood, face to face, and within ten feet of a mighty big bear, that
was travellin' my way, as the Judge said. I had no idee that he was
around, and I'm quite sartain he didn't expect to meet a human in such
a place. Of course, we were naterally astonished at seein' one another
just then, and the meetin' didn't seem to be altogether agreeable to
either party. I ain't easily scared when I've time to prepare for a
scrimmage, yet, I'm free to say, I'd have given a couple of
wolf-scalps to've been on the other side of the gully, just at that
time. The bear seemed to expect me to begin the fight, for, after
gruntin' out in a very oncivil way his surprise at makin' my
acquaintance, he reared himself up on eend, and, with a fierce growl,
showed a set of ivory that wasn't pleasant to look at. I should have
been willin' myself, to've backed down, and apologized for my rudeness
in crossin' his path, for I was carryin' my rifle carelessly in my
left hand, and our meetin' was so sudden that I scarcely had time to
bring it to bear upon the kritter. I rather think I should have dodged
back, any how, but Crop seemed to think his master was in danger, and
that he was obligated, live or die, to go in. So, quick as a flash, he
rushed by me, and threw himself into the very face of the desperate
brute. Crop made a great mistake when he calculated he was a
match for that bear, for, with one cuff, the animal sent him
eend over eend down the bank, upon the broken rocks below.
But the little time that was so occupied saved me a deal of
trouble and danger, for it lasted just long enough for me to bring
my rifle into position, which I did about the quickest, you may bet
your life on that. I run my eye along the barrel, sighted him between
the eyes, and pulled. The bear keeled over onto his back with a jerk,
gave a spiteful kick with both hind feet, and he, too, went over the
ledge onto the sharp rocks below. I looked over, and saw Crop
staggerin' to his feet, and lookin' about in a bewildered way, as if
not quite understandin' how he came there. I went round a little way,
and got down into the gully where the animals were. I found the bear
stone dead, and Crop with two ribs broken and his shoulder out of
joint, whinin', and moanin' piteously with pain. I set his shoulder as
well as I could, and, after takin' the skin off the bear, I backed him
two miles to my shanty. It was a fortnight before he 'left the house,'
but he learned a little piece of wisdom by that cuff that sent him
down the bank, and got a little insight into the nater of an
angry bear."
[Illustration: Crop made a great mistake when he calculated he was a
match for that bear, for, with one cuff, the animal sent him eend over
eend down the bank, upon the broken rocks below. But the little time
that was so occupied saved me a deal of trouble and danger, for it
lasted just long enough for me to bring my rifle into position, which
I did about the quickest, you may bet your life on that.]
THE CHASE ON THE ISLAND--THE CHASE IN THE LAKE--THE BEAR--GAMBLING FOR
GLORY--ANECDOTE OF NOAH AND THE GENTLEMAN WHO OFFERED TO OFFICIATE AS
PILOT ON BOARD THE ARK.
We had as yet had no use for our dogs since we left the Saranac. They
had travelled quietly with us as we moved from place to place, or
stayed inactive at the tents while we remained stationary. The game
was so abundant, that the real difficulty was to restrain ourselves
from destroying more than was needful for our use. We had indeed,
failed to live strictly up to the law we had imposed upon ourselves,
for we had at all times trout and venison beyond our present wants,
excusing ourselves on the ground that an excess of supply was always
preferable to a scant commissariat. More than one deer was
slaughtered, if the truth must be told, for no better reason than that
given by an Irishman for smashing a bald head he chanced to see at a
window: it presented a mark too tempting to be resisted the lake
from our camping ground. We stationed two of our boats between the
island and the shore nearest the main land, and the other on the
opposite side, and sent Cullen upon the island to beat for game. It
was scarcely five minutes, before the voices of the dogs broke upon
the stillness of the morning, in a simultaneous and fierce cry, as if
they had started the game suddenly, and fresh from his lair. Away they
went in full cry across the island, the deer sweeping around the upper
end, and returning on the opposite side, as if loth to take to the
water; but true to their instincts, the hounds followed, making the
hills and the old woods ring again with the music of their voices.
Presently, a noble buck broke cover, directly opposite to where the
Doctor and Smith's boat lay. As our object was rather to enjoy the
music of the chase, than to capture the deer, they shouted and
hallooed as he entered the water, and he wheeled back, and went
tearing in huge affright through the woods, up the island again. Still
the howling was upon his trail, and as he approached the upper end, he
again took to the water, to be frightened back by Martin and myself,
and with renewed energy he bounded across to a point stretching out
into the lake on the opposite side. Here Spalding and Wood were
stationed, and they, by their shouting, drove him back again to the
thickets. By this time, the poor animal began to appreciate the full
peril of his position, for turn where he would he found an enemy in
front, while the cry of his pursuers followed him like his destiny.
Thus far every effort to escape by taking to the water had failed, and
he seemed to think, as Martin expressed it, that "day was breaking."
He essayed it again on the land side, and was driven back by us, and
thus he coursed three times round the island, until, in desperation,
he plunged into the broad lake and struck boldly out for the opposite
shore, three quarters of a mile distant. Spalding shouted to us, and
when we rounded the headland, we saw that he and Wood had headed, and
were driving him towards a small island, of less than half an acre,
covered only with low bushes, half a mile down the lake. We did not
propose to harm him, but we intended to drive him upon that little
island, and by surrounding it, keep him there for a while by way of
experimenting upon his fears, or rather as Martin said, "to see what
he would do." As he approached the shore, he bounded upon the island,
and tossing his head from side to side, as if looking for a place of
concealment or escape. Finding none, he dashed across to the opposite
side and plunged into the lake. He was met by the Doctor and Smith,
and turned back. He rushed in another direction, across the island, to
be headed by the boat in which I was seated, and again in another
direction to be headed by Spalding. Thus met and driven back at every
turn, he at last stationed himself on a high knoll, near the centre of
the island, apparently expecting that the last struggle for life was
to be made there. We rested upon our oars, making no noise, and
watching his movements. The bushes were low, coming only up midside
to the animal. He watched us latently for half an hour, tossing his
head up and down, looking first at one, then at another, as if
calculating from which the attack upon his life was to come. At last,
as if overcome by weariness, or concluding that after all there was no
real danger, he laid quietly down. In answer to his confidence in the
harmlessness of our intentions, we rowed away back to the island where
we started him. We had not reached it, however, when we saw him enter
the water, and swim to the main land, and glad enough he seemed to be
when he had regained the protection of his native forests.
We took our dogs from the island, and rowed to the broad channel of
the inlet which enters the lake on the left hand side, as you look to
the south. There are two of these inlets, which enter within a quarter
of a mile of each other, each of which comes down from little lakes,
or ponds, deeper in the wilderness. The one we entered flows in a
tortuous course through a natural meadow, stretching away on either
hand forty or fifty rods, to a dense forest of spruce, maple, and
beech, above which gigantic pines stand stately and tall in their
pride. Three miles from the lake, the hills approach each other, and
the little river comes plunging down through a gorge, over shelving
rocks, and around great boulders, as if mad with the obstructions
piled up in its way.
As we approached these falls, Smith, who sat in the bow of the boat,
motioned to the boatman to lay upon his oars, and pointed to an object
partly concealed by some low bushes, forty or fifty rods in advance
of us. Remaining perfectly still a moment, we saw a bear step out upon
a boulder, look up and down the stream, and stretch his long nose out
over the water, as if looking for a good place to cross the rapids.
After scratching his ear with one of his hind feet, and his side with
the other, he turned and walked deliberately from our sight into the
forest. By this time, the boat with the dogs came in sight, and we
beckoned its occupants to come to us. One of the hounds only had ever
seen game of this kind. But Cullen declared that there was no game
that they would not follow when once fairly laid on. We wanted that
bear. It was the only one we had seen; indeed it was the only one I
had ever seen wild in the forest. We went to the spot where we last
saw him, and there in the sand, by the side of the boulder, was his
great track, almost like a human foot. Cullen called the attention of
the dogs to it, and hallooed them on. They took the scent cheerfully,
and with a united and fierce cry they dashed away in pursuit. They had
ran but a short distance, when they seemed to become stationary, and
deep, quick baying succeeded the lengthened and ringing sound of
their voices.
"Treed, by Moses!" cried Cullen, as he dashed forward, the rest of us
following as fast as we could.
"Not too fast," said Martin, "not too fast. There's no hurry; he won't
come down unless our noise frightens him. Let us go quietly; there's
plenty of time. Belcher has got his eye on him, and will stay by him
till we come." We travelled quietly, and as silently as we could for
near half a mile, and as we rounded a low but steep point of a hill,
there sat bruin, some twelve rods from us, in the forks of a great
birch tree, forty feet from the ground, looking down in calm dignity
upon the dogs that were baying and leaping up against the tree beneath
him. Did anybody ever notice what a meek, innocent look a bear has
when in repose? How hypocritically he leers upon everything about him,
as if butter would not melt in his mouth? Well, such was the look of
that bear, as he peered out first on one side, then on the other of
the great limbs between which he was sitting, secure, as he supposed,
from danger. But he was never more mistaken in his life. In watching
the dogs he had failed to discover us. We agreed that three should
fire upon him at once, reserving the fourth charge for whatever
contingency might happen. Smith, the Doctor, and Spalding sighted him
carefully, each with his rifle resting against the side of a tree, and
blazed away, their guns sounding almost together. It was pitiful the
scream of agony that bear sent up. It was almost human in its anguish.
It went ringing through the woods, dying away at last almost in a
human groan. After struggling and clasping his arms for a moment
around the great branch of the tree, his hold relaxed, he reeled from
side to side, and then fell heavily to the ground, with three balls
within an inch of each other, right through his vitals. He was larger
than a medium sized animal of his species, and in excellent case.
The next thing in order was to transport him to our boats. This was
done by tying his feet together, then running a long pole, cut for the
purpose, between them, and lifting each end upon the shoulder of a
boatman, he was "strung up," as Allen expressed it, clear from the
ground. They stumbled along as best they could, over the rough ground,
and through the tangle brush, towards the river. It was a heavy load
considering the unevenness of the path, and the men were compelled to
halt every few rods to breathe. We got him safely to the landing at
last, and tumbling him into the bottom of one of the boats, started
down stream towards our shanty. A proud trio were Spalding, Smith, and
the Doctor that afternoon, returning with their game across the lake;
and they certainly had some occasion to congratulate themselves, for
this was the first wild, uncaged bear either of us had ever seen, and
him they had succeeded in capturing.
We dined that afternoon on a roasted sirloin of bear, stewed jerked
venison, fried trout, and pork. I cannot say that I altogether
relished the roast, though some of our company took to it hugely. The
truth is, that with some of them venison and trout were beginning to
be somewhat stale dishes, they did not relish fat pork, and a change
therefore to roasted bear meat was peculiarly acceptable.
"Gentlemen," said Smith to the Doctor and Spalding, as we sat after
our meal, enjoying our pipes, "what say you to selling out your
interest in that bear? If you're open for a bargain, I'll make you a
proposition."
"Why," the Doctor replied, "there'll be nothing left but the skin,
and that will be of no special value except as a trophy."
"Not exactly," resumed Smith. "I'll deal frankly with you, gentlemen.
There'll be a good many stories to be told about the killing of that
bear, and my object is to appropriate the glory of the achievement.
Now it wont be a matter to boast of, to say that we three fired into
one bear, and that none of the largest."
"Oh! as to that," said the Doctor, "I intend to enlarge upon the
subject, exaggerating the size of the bear, describing the terrible
conflict I had with him, how I happened to save myself by remembering
my double-barrelled pistol; how I made the three ball holes in him,
while you and Spalding were running away, and how he bit me in the
arm, and almost hugged me to death, while I was trying to get at the
pistol. I shall shine in that bear story! Yes! yes! I shall shine!"
"Hear the cormorant!" exclaimed Smith. "Hear him! And he'll do
precisely as he says he will, only a great deal worse. We must buy him
out, Spalding. We must purchase his silence for our own credit."
"Well, gentlemen," replied Spalding, "settle it between you--you are
welcome to my share of the achievement. The scream of mortal agony
which that bear sent up when our three balls went crashing through its
body rings in my ears yet. I don't feel quite so proud of the shot as
I otherwise should have done. You are welcome to my share of the
"Spoken like a liberal and free-hearted gentleman," said
Smith. "Well, Doctor, name the amount and nature of the blackmail you
intend to levy upon me. But have a conscience, man! have a
conscience!"
"It will be making a great sacrifice on my part," the Doctor replied,
"but out of friendship for you, I'll make you a proposition. We'll
toss op a dollar, and the one that wins shall have the honour of
having killed the bear, and of telling the story in his own way, and
the others shall indorse it."
"Agreed," said Smith, "but if you win, I shall have to borrow a
conscience of Spalding, or some other lawyer, for there'll be need of
a pretty elastic one."
"Yours will answer, I think," drily remarked Spalding.
"It appears to me, gentlemen," said I "that I've something to say
about the killing of that bear."
"You," exclaimed the Doctor, "what had you to do with it, pray? There
stands your rifle, with the same ball in it that you placed there this
morning. You haven't discharged your rifle to-day."
"Notwithstanding that," I replied, "I am entitled to a portion of the
glory, as I am chargeable with my share of the responsibility, of
killing the bear. I was one of the first who discovered him; I was
among the foremost in the pursuit; I was present, aiding and advising
in the manner of the killing; I had my weapon in my hand, and was
restrained from using it, only because you might fail to accomplish
what my reserved bullet would have made secure. Now, if this bear had
been human, and we were accused of killing him, I would be regarded
in the eye of the law as equally guilty with you. I appeal to Spalding
if this is not so?"
"H----is right," replied Spalding, as he sent a column of smoke
wreathing upward from his lips. "Such is the law."
"We must buy this fellow off, Smith," said the Doctor, "we must buy
him off. He's an old hunter, known as such, and he'll take to himself
all the glory; and what is worse, the world will believe him. He'll
spread himself beyond all bounds. He'll shine beyond endurance upon
the strength of this bear. We must buy him off. It is against all
conscience, but there is no help for it. We must buy him off. There's
an impudence in this claim which reminds me of an anecdote related
"By Noah?" asked Smith, interrupting him, "Noah who?"
"What ignorance there is in this world, even in these days of
educational enlightenment!" remarked the Doctor to Spalding and
myself. "Now, here is a decently informed gentleman, claiming to be a
Christian man, to have studied the Bible, and don't know who Noah was.
Such an instance of human ignorance in these times, is shocking."
"Oh! I understand now," said Smith, "he was the gentleman who built
the ark. Well, go on with your anecdote."
"Well, as I was saying," the Doctor resumed, "this claim of H----'s
to a share of the glory of slaying the bear, reminds me of an
anecdote related by Noah soon after the subsidence of the flood, and
it shows that impudence is, at least, not post-deluvian in its origin.
It seems that there were in the world before, as well as after the
flood, some very meddling impudent fellows, who were always
interfering with other people's business, claiming a share of other
people's credit, trying to make the world believe that they were great
things, and persuading everybody that whatever remarkable achievement
was accomplished, occurred through their counsel and advice, and as a
consequence, claiming a large share of all the honors going.
"Well, after the rain had continued falling for a number of days, and
the valleys were all full of water, and the angry surges went roaring,
with the voice of ten thousand thunders, high up along the sides of
the hills, one of these pestilent fellows--deriding the miraculous
exhibition going on all around him--undertook, in his self-conceit, to
lead the people to a place of safety. So he selected a lofty peak that
shot up from a range of mountains, and commenced travelling up its
steep acclivities. But the flood followed him, roaring, and boiling,
and heaving, in its onward rush. Day by day, night by night, it crept
up, and up, higher and higher, until the self-confident leader, who
scoffed at the supernatural warning, had but a mighty small place
above the surge, whereon to shelter himself from the destruction that
surrounded him. About that time the Ark, with Noah and his people, all
safe and snug, came drifting that way.
"'Halloo!' says the occupant of the rock, 'send us a boat, and take
us aboard. The freshet is getting pretty bad, and it is getting a
little damp, up here.'
"'I can't do it,' says Noah, 'my craft is full of better people.'
"'But,' says the applicant for admission into the Ark, 'let me in, and
I'll superintend the navigation. I'll man the wheel, and see that the
sails are all right, and we can pick up a deal of floating plunder as
we go along.'
"'Can't do it,' says Noah, 'we've got a good steersman and safe
navigators on board already.'
"'Well,' says the applicant, 'I'll work my passage as a deck hand,
asking only a small portion of such spoils as we may pick up. Come,
bring us aboard.'
"'Can't do it,' says Noah, 'can't think of such a thing."
"'Then,' said the persevering applicant for a passage in the Ark,
'I'll go along for nothing--giving the benefit of my counsel and
assistance free gratis; more than all that, I'll stand the liquor
"'No use in talking,' says Noah, 'you can't come on board of my craft,
on any terms. You'd corrupt my people, and set them by the ears in a
week. You can't have a berth on any conditions. Good-bye!'
"'Then go to thunder with your old Ark,' indignantly responded the
occupant of the rock, 'I don't believe there's going to be much of a
shower, after all.'
"In a day or two, Noah drifted that way again. The mountain peak had
disappeared beneath the waters, and the occupants were all gone." "I
give up my claim," said I, "Doctor, in consideration of your anecdote.
Take the glory of killing the bear. I see you're not disposed to give
me a place in your Ark. So toss up the dollar."
The dollar was tossed up, and Smith won the glory.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE DOCTOR AND HIS WIFE ON A FISHING EXCURSION--THE LAW OF THE
CASE--STRONG-MINDED WOMEN.
The right to the glory of having killed the bear being settled, the
Doctor, addressing himself to Spalding, remarked--"There was something
in H----'s appeal to you about the law of his case, that reminded me
of a little scene between my wife and myself, many years ago, when we
were both younger than we are now, and certainly had never anticipated
the dark years of trial, through which we were unexpectedly called
upon to pass. You know that I started in life, like Smith here, a
gentleman of fortune, calculating, like him, to live at my ease,
without troubling myself with the cares of any particular business, as
I passed along. Still I thought, or rather my father thought, that it
would be well enough, even for a gentleman, to have at least a nominal
title to some profession. So I studied the law, and was admitted as an
attorney and counsellor of the courts. Never intending to practise, I
did not become very profoundly learned in the profession; still I
became, to some extent, indoctrinated with its mysteries. I did not
like it; and when the necessity for some active employment came
looming up in the distance, I chose a different calling, and at
six-and-twenty, commenced the study of my present profession. This did
not occur until after I had been married some three years. I lived in
the country then, or rather, summered there, in a beautiful little
village in the interior of the State, in a pleasant, old-fashioned
house, which my father built, and which, as I was his only heir, I
supposed of course I owned. Some half a dozen miles from the village
was a fine trout stream, to which my wife and myself used occasionally
to go on a fishing excursion. On such occasions we went on horseback,
as the road was somewhat rough, and my wife was as much at home in the
saddle as I was. This, I repeat, was a good while ago, and we were
both a score of years younger than we are now. Well, I started out
alone one day to visit this trout stream, anticipating a good time
with its speckled, and usually greedy inhabitants. I say I was alone,
and yet there was with me, all the way, and all the time, one who can
talk, reason, philosophise, understand things as well as you or I; and
one, to all appearance, as much and distinctly human as you or I."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Smith, "we can't go that, Doctor. I can't
stand my quarter of that."
"Foolish man!" continued the Doctor; "I say I was alone; let me
demonstrate my proposition. Blackstone says, and what he says every
lawyer will concede is the end of the law, and the beginning too, for
that matter, that when a woman becomes a wife, she loses her identity,
becomes nobody; that her husband absorbs her existence, as it were, as
he does her goods and chattels, in his own. Now, sir, do you
comprehend? My wife was with me, and she, being according to law
nobody, of course I was alone. You, sir, being a law abiding man, must
admit that my proposition is Q.E.D.
"The doctrine of absorption, as I call it, is convenient. It promotes
harmony of action, by subjecting it to the control of a single will,
thus avoiding all embarrassment from a conflict of opinion between man
and wife. So, on my way to the trout stream (I say _my_ way, for
though my wife was on horseback by my side, yet she being, according
to the best legal authorities, nobody, you see I was alone), I thought
I would enlighten the good lady in regard to the true position, or
rather the no position at all, which she occupied. Our way lay for a
couple of miles along an old road, towards a clearing which had been
abandoned, and through which the stream flowed. The tall old trees
spread their long arms over us, clothed in the rich verdure of spring,
and the breeze, so fresh and fragrant, moaned, and sighed, and
whispered among the leaves.
"'My dear,' said I, blandly, as we rode along, the birds singing
merrily among the branches above us, 'do you know that you
are NOBODY?'
"'Nobody, Mr. W----,' (I was simply Mr. W----then; I had not become,
nor even dreamed that I should become a Doctor), 'Nobody, Mr. W----?
Did you say nobody?'
"'Absolutely nobody,' said I. 'A perfect nonentity. You are less even
than a legal fiction.'
"'Look you,' said she, as she applied the whip to her pony, in a way
that brought him, with a bound, across the road directly in front of
me (she rode like a belted knight), obstructing my progress, 'Look
you, Mr. W----,' and there was a red spot on her cheek, and her eye
sparkled like the sheen of a diamond, 'let us settle this matter now.
I can bear being of small consideration, occupying very little space
in the world, but to be stricken out of existence entirely, to possess
no legal identity, to be regarded as absolutely nobody, is a thing I
don't intend to stand--mark that, Mr. W----.'
"'Keep cool, my dear,' said I; 'let us argue this matter.' I was calm,
for I knew the law was on my side; I had the books, and the courts,
and the statutes all in my favor. I was fortified, you see.
"'Argue the matter!' she exclaimed; 'not till it is admitted that I'm
somebody. If I'm nobody, I can't be argued with, I can't reason, nor
talk. Now, Mr. W----, I've a tongue.'
"'Gospel truth,' said I, 'whatever the authorities may say. But we
will admit, for the sake of the argument, that you are somebody;
Blackstone says'----
"'Out on Blackstone,' she exclaimed; 'what do I care for Blackstone,
whose bones have been mouldering in the grave for more than a hundred
years, for what I know. Don't talk to me about Blackstone.'
"'But, my dear, you are _my_ wife, and Blackstone says'--
"'I don't care a fig what Blackstone says. If I _am_ your wife, I am
my mother's daughter, and my brother's sister, and Tommy's mother, and
there are four distinct individualities all centered in myself.'
"'But,' said I again, 'Blackstone says'--
"'Confound that Blackstone,' she exclaimed; 'I do believe he has
driven the wits out of the man's head. Now, look you, Mr. W----, you
invited me to ride with you; you now say I am nobody. Very well. If
nobody leaves you, I suppose you won't be without company, for
somebody certainly left home with you this morning, and has rode with
you thus far. So, good-bye, Mr. W----; success to your fishing, Mr.
W----,' and she struck into a gallop towards home.
"'Hallo!' said I, 'I give up the point. I take back all I said. _Culpa
mea_, my good wife. If Blackstone does say'--
"'Not a word more about Blackstone,' said she, shaking her whip, half
serious half playfully, at me; 'if I go with you, I go as somebody--a
legal entity.'
"'Very well,' said I, 'we'll drop the argument.'
"'Not the argument, but the fact, Mr. W----; and admit that Blackstone
was a goose, and that his law, like his logic, is all nonsense when
measured by the standard of common sense and practical fact. Admit
that a woman, when she becomes a wife does not become a mere
nonentity, or I leave you to journey alone.'
"'Very well, my dear, let us see if we cannot compromise this matter.
Suppose we allow his philosophy to stand as a general truth, making
you an exception. We'll say that wives in general are nobody, but that
you shall be exempt from the general rule, and be considered always
hereafter, and as between ourselves, as somebody.'
"You see the shrewdness of my proposition. Firstly, it saved
Blackstone; secondly, it saved _me_, let me down easy; and thirdly, it
appealed to the womanly vanity of my wife, and it took.
"'Oh, well,' she said, as she brought her pony alongside of me, and we
jogged along cosily together, 'I see no objection to that. Other wives
can take care of themselves. But this compromise, as between _us_, Mr.
W----, must be a _finality_. No Nebraska traps, Mr. W----. No Kansas
bills hereafter. It must be a finality, mind.'
"'Very well,' said I; and a robin that was building its nest on a limb
that hung over the road, paused in its labors, and burst into song,
and the burden of its lay seemed to be a compromise, which, in truth,
should be a FINALITY.
"We were successful in our fishing, and we followed the old-fashioned
custom as to bait. We discarded the fly, using only the angle-worm. At
the foot of the ripples; under the old logs; where the water went
whirling under the cavernous banks; in the eddies; among the
driftwood; everywhere, we found trout--not large, none weighing over
six ounces, and few less than three. We caught my basket full in less
then two hours, and then rode home. It was a day of enjoyment to us,
you may be sure.
"And now I appeal to you, in all seriousness, my friend," the Doctor
continued, addressing himself to Spalding, "if there is not something
due to the wives and mothers of the present generation? Is there not
some relaxation of the law necessary in vindication of the
civilization of the age, against the legal barbarisms still remaining
on the statute books, and adhered to by the common law, in regard to
wives and mothers? Is the current of progress to flow by them for
ever, bearing no reforms which shall affect them? Do not misunderstand
me. I am no advocate of the practices of the 'strong-minded women,'
who hold their conventions and public meetings, who unsex themselves
by mounting the forum, and, throwing off the retiring modesty of the
true woman, seek to secure notoriety at the price of popular contempt.
But there are evils which bear heavily, too heavily, upon the women
even of this country, and which, for the credit of the civilization of
the age, should be corrected. As calm-minded, philanthropic men, we,
the American people, should look into this subject, and, regardless of
jeer and scoff, do what justice, humanity, and the right demand of us,
in regard to some of the social and legal inequalities between the
sexes, pertaining to the married state."
"It is one of the mysteries of our system of jurisprudence," replied
Spalding, "that while everything else is on the move, while progress
is written in letters of living light upon all other things, that
remains stationary--at least in a comparative sense. The world moves
on, civilization advances, science and the arts stride forward, but
the law stands still. A principle which may have been somewhat
changed, modified, bent, if you please, into an adaptation to the
exigencies of the present, and a fitness for the changed circumstances
of the times in which we live, is suddenly thrown back into its old
position by the exhumation of some 'decision' from the dust of ages,
made by some judge away back in the olden times, resurrected by the
research of some antiquarian lawyer, who loves to delve among the
rubbish of past generations. The learning, the wisdom, the philosophy
of the present is discarded, and the spirits of a lower civilization
are conjured from the darkness of vanished centuries, to settle rules
for the government of commerce, personal conduct, and the social
relations of the times in which we live. There seems to be something
paradoxical in the idea that the older the decision the better the
law--the more ancient the commentator, the profounder the wisdom of
his axioms. This might be well, were it true that civilization is
'progressing backwards,' the science of government retrograding. In
that case, it would of course be true, that the nearer you approach
the fountain, the purer the stream would be. But such is not the fact.
In all these attributes the world is on the advance, the science of
government progressive; and to make the wisdom of centuries ago
override the wisdom, or overshadow the light of the present, is a
paradox peculiar to our system of jurisprudence. There are lawyers and
judges, who enjoy a high reputation, whose fame rests upon their
profound research among the worm-eaten tomes of black-letter law, and
whose glory consists in their familiarity with the opinions and axioms
of men who lived and died so long ago that their very tombs are
forgotten. This class of lawyers and jurists hold in contempt all the
learning, the philosophy, the practical wisdom of the present
--rejecting everything that is not bearded and hoary with age.
Seated in their libraries, in the midst of their ponderous octavos,
their Roman and black-letter volumes, they reject with disdain the
commentators, the opinions of the jurists of the present century; and
brushing away the cobwebs and dust from the covers of their treasured
relics of bygone ages, they clasp them in a loving embrace close to
their hearts, exclaiming, 'These are my jewels.' Whatever has not the
sanction of ancient authority, is folly to them--worse than folly, for
it is innovation, and that is rank impiety.
"I remember an anecdote of the celebrated William Wirt, related to
show how ready his mind was, how instant in activity, and how suddenly
it would flash with an eloquence, superior to that exhibited by the
most elaborate preparation. He was arguing a cause before the Supreme
Court of the United States, and laid down, as the basis of his
argument, a principle to which he desired to call the particular
attention of the judges. The opposing counsel interrupted him,
calling for the authority sustaining his principle,--'The book--the
book!' demanded his adversary. 'Sir, and your honors,' said Wirt,
straightening himself up to his full height, 'I am not bound to grope
my way among the ruins of antiquity, to stumble over obsolete
statutes, or delve in black letter law, in search of a principle
written in living letters upon the heart of every man.' If the idea
contained in this answer of Wirt, were more fully appreciated by our
modern jurists, it would be all the better for the country.
"The common law is said to be the perfection of reason. This is
doubtless true, but it is the perfection of the reason of the present,
as well as of the past. Its principles are elastic, suiting themselves
to the civilization of all ages. They are progressive, keeping pace
with the progress of all times. They are not immutable, save in the
element of right, and they therefore shape themselves to all
circumstances, moving along with the onward march of trade, the
commerce, the social relations, and business of the people. The
learning of to-day, the wisdom, the philosophy of to-day is profounder
than that of any preceding century, and it is folly to overthrow it
by, or compel it to give place to, the learning, the wisdom, the
philosophy of departed and ruder ages.
"In regard to your question, whether there is not some relaxation of
the law necessary, in vindication of the civilization of the age,
against the legal barbarisms remaining upon the statute book, and in
the common law in regard to our wives, I answer frankly that I do not
know about that. The law, as you read it in Blackstone, and as you
expounded it to your wife, on your fishing excursion, has been
somewhat modified. Wives have been given a _status_ by modern
legislation; and a woman, by becoming a wife, does not now cease to be
a legal entity. The law permits her to retain and control her property
irrespective of her husband, and she has, therefore, thus far, ceased
to be 'nobody.' But my private opinion is, that, as a general thing,
the women of this country get along very well, even under the pressure
of the 'barbarisms' of which you speak. They manage, one way and
another, to get the upper hand of their legal lords, law or no law. If
their existence, in the light of authority, is 'less than a legal
fiction,' they come to be regarded, or make themselves felt in the
world as practical facts. They are quite as apt to be at the top, as
at the bottom of the ladder, notwithstanding what 'Blackstone says'
about their legal position. There is, doubtless, a good deal of abuse
of authority on the part of husbands, but the women get their share of
the good that is going in the world, as a general thing. If the law is
against them, they manage to usurp full an even amount of privilege
and authority, and keep along about in line with the other sex. I
never knew an out and out controversy between a man and his wife, in
which the former did not get the worst of it in the end; and as to the
impositions, which as a melancholy truth are too frequent, they are
about as much on one side as the other. It is not to legal enactments
that we must look for the cure of unhappiness incident to the married
state, but to a reform in temper and habits of life. Besides, I do not
believe the wives of this country would accept of a strict legal
equality at all, if it were tendered them as a FINALITY. I believe
they would prefer remaining as they are; for by being so, they are
left to the resources of their own genius, to win by their tact, what
is not guaranteed by law. I know that there are a good many
crazy-headed people in pantaloons as well as petticoats, who go about
laboring for the 'emancipation of women,' as if the heavens and earth
were coming together. But those of them who wear skirts, generally
have delicate white hands, flowing curls, flashing black eyes, and the
gift of oratory--and a desire to exhibit them all; while those in
pantaloons have their hair combed smoothly back, as if preparing to be
swallowed by a boa-constrictor, wear white cravats, talk softly, and
show a good deal of the whites of their eyes, from a chronic habit of
looking up towards the moon and stars. As a general thing, these
latter are of no practical use in the world, and make as good a tail
to the kite of the 'strong-minded women' as anything else. But these
people represent a very small portion of the American women, and until
the masses demand 'emancipation,' I rather think that matters had
better be permitted to remain as they are. The women will take care of
themselves--no fear of that."
CHAPTER XXII.
A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER--A NEW LAKE--A MOOSE--HIS CAPTURE--A SUMPTUOUS
We started the next morning on an exploring voyage up the right-hand
stream, which enters this beautiful lake some half a mile west of the
one we had looked into the day before. On either hand, as we passed
along the narrow channel, was a natural meadow, covered with a
luxuriant growth of rank grass and weeds, conspicuous among which was
a beautiful flower, the like of which I have never seen anywhere else.
I am no botanist, and therefore cannot describe it in the language of
the florist, so that the learned in that beautiful science might
classify it. It resembles somewhat the wild lily in shape, growing
upon a tall, strong stem, almost like the stem of the flag. The flower
itself is double, and its deep crimson--the deepest almost of any
flower I have ever seen--shone conspicuously, as it waved gracefully
in the breeze above the surrounding vegetation. It has one defect,
however; it is without fragrance, I infer from the fact that its roots
spread far out every way, and reach down into the water beneath, that
it can hardly be transferred to the garden, or become civilized. It
would be a great acquisition to the collection of the florist if it
could, for I know of no flower that excels it in richness of color,
gracefulness of appearance, or in gorgeousness of beauty.
We saw abundance of deer feeding quietly upon the narrow meadows, and
upon the lily pads on our way. We had no inclination to injure them,
and we let them feed on. Some of them were hugely astonished, however,
at our presence, and dashed away, whistling and snorting, into the
forest. Two miles from the lake, we came to a rocky barrier, down
which the stream, came rushing and roaring, for fifty or sixty rods,
in a descent of perhaps sixty feet in all. Around these rapids the
boats were carried, and we found, above them, the water deep and
sluggish, flowing through a dense forest, the tall trees on the banks
stretching their leafy arms across the narrow channel, forming above
it an arch delightfully cool, through which the sunlight could
scarcely penetrate. We followed this channel a long way, when we came
to a little lake or pond, four or five miles in circumference. It was
a perfect gem, laying there all alone, so calm, so lovely in its
solitude, with no sign of civilization around it, no sound of
civilization startling its echoes from their sleep of ages, no human
voice having perhaps ever been heard upon its shore since the red man
departed from the hunting-ground of his fathers. The shores all around
it were bold and rocky, save on the western side, where a broad sandy
beach, of a quarter of a mile in extent, lay between the water and the
shadow of the deep forest beyond. A solitary island of half a dozen
acres, covered with majestic pines and tall, straight spruce trees,
rises near the centre of the lake, adding a new charm to its quiet
beauty. The waters of this little lake are clearer and more
transparent than those of any other we had seen; we could see the
white shells on its sandy bottom, fifteen feet below the surface. This
peculiarity induced us to believe that we were above the stratum of
iron ore which seems to underlay most of this wild region, coloring,
while it does not render impure, the waters of most of these lakes and
rivers. I have frequently, in my wanderings in these northern wilds,
stumbled upon outcropping orebeds, which, were they nearer market, or
more accessible to the energy and enterprise of the American people,
would be capable of building up gigantic fortunes, but they are all
valueless here, and probably will continue so for generations to come.
We saw the fresh tracks of a moose on the sandy beach, tracks that had
been made that morning, and we concluded to spend the day here, in the
hope of securing one of these gigantic deer. We rowed to the island,
intending to encamp there. We entered a little bay, of half an acre,
the points forming it coming within a few yards of each other, and the
branches of the trees intertwining their long arms lovingly above. As
we landed, our dogs began nosing and dashing about, as if suddenly
roused into excitement by the hot scent of some animal that had been
disturbed by our coming. They broke into a simultaneous cry, and
plunged like mad into the thicket. We pushed our boat back towards the
open water, when we heard the plunge of some animal into the lake, on
the other side of the island. Martin, who was in the leading boat with
me, by a few vigorous pulls at the oar, rounded the point between us
and the spot where we had heard the plunge, and there, not ten rods
from the shore, making for the mainland, was the game which, of all
others, we most desired to see.
"A moose! by Moses!" exclaimed Martin, in huge excitement. "Hurrah!
hurrah! A moose! he's ours! he can't escape!" and away he dashed in
pursuit. The other boats now hove in sight, and a loud hurrah! went up
from each, when they saw the nature of the game that had been started.
There was no difficulty in overtaking the animal, desperate as were
his efforts to escape. We shot past him, and turned him back in a
direction towards the island again, and I picked up my rifle to settle
"Don't shoot him," said Martin; "don't shoot him yet; he can't get
away, and if you kill him, he'll sink; and if he don't, we can't get
him into the boat. Let us drive him back to the island." The other
boats were, by this time, up with us, every man in a wild state of
excitement, eager to be first in at the death. We had headed the
animal towards the island, with our three boats so arranged, as that
he could swim in no other direction, without running one of them down.
The dogs had started a deer that had taken to the water, on the other
side of the island.
"Look here!" said I; "gentlemen, this game is mine. I claim him by
right of discovery, and my right must not be interfered with."
"Very well," the Doctor answered, "we'll only take a hand in his
capture if he's likely to escape. So, go ahead."
As we came within a few yards of the shore, and we could see that the
animal's hoofs touched the bottom, I aimed carefully at his head, and
fired. He made one desperate lunge forward, and turned over on his
side, dying with scarcely a straggle, the ball having passed directly
through his brain.
This was the first and only live moose I have ever seen. He was not a
large one, being, probably, a three-year-old, but well-grown. We
should have called him a monster, had we not, before that time, seen
in various museums the stuffed skins of those a quarter or a third
larger. He would have weighed, as shot, probably between five and six
hundred pounds. He had made this solitary island his home, as we
ascertained by his spoor and other signs that we found upon subsequent
explorations. We saw his bed but a few rods from where we landed, and
from which our dogs had aroused him, though they, in their excitement,
had overrun his scent, and dashed off after a deer.
We had now accomplished one of the objects of our journey in this
direction, and as the law we had imposed upon ourselves had reached
its limits, prohibiting our shooting another moose that day, even
should an opportunity occur, we concluded to return to our shanty, on
the lake below. We, therefore, dressed our moose, and taking with us
the skin and hind quarters, started down stream to a late dinner on
Little Tupper's Lake. Indeed, there was a sort of necessity for our
doing so. We had left our provisions there, calculating to return in
the afternoon, not having taken with us even pepper or salt, wherewith
to season the food which, upon constraint, we might cook during our
absence. A few crackers, in the pockets of each, was all, in the
provision line, that we had provided ourselves with, and though, when
we saw the moose-tracks in the sand, we had concluded to rough it, for
a single night, for the chance of securing such rare game, yet having
secured it, that part of our mission was accomplished, and we turned
towards home.
On our return to the lake, Spalding and myself rowed across to the
mouth of a cold brook, to procure a supply of fresh trout, upon which,
with our moose and bear-meat, to dine. This we soon accomplished, and
on our arrival home, we found huge pieces of moose and bear roasting
before a blazing fire. The meat was supported upon long sticks, one
end of which was sharpened, and the meat spitted upon it, and the
other thrust into the ground, in a slanting direction, so as to bring
the roasting pieces into a proper position before the fire. The meat
was removed occasionally, and turned, until the roasting process was
completed, and then served up on clean birch bark, just peeled from
the trees, in the place of platters. We had tin plates, knives, and
forks, with us, also a tea-kettle, tin cups, and tea of the choicest
quality, sugar, pepper, salt, and pork. The man who cannot make a meal
where the viands present are moose-meat, bear, jerked venison, fresh
trout, and pork, and for drink the best of tea and the purest and
coldest spring water, had better keep out of the Rackett woods.
The people, whoever they were, who prepared the camp in which we were
domiciled, had an eye to convenience and comfort. The shanty was built
of logs, on three sides, the crevices between which were filled with
moss, and the sloping roof neatly covered with bark, in layers, like
an old-fashioned roof, covered with split shingles. The front was
open, and directly before it was a rough fire-place, with jams, made
of small boulders, laid up with clay, regularly-fashioned, as if
intended for a kitchen. This fire-place was three or four feet high,
and served an excellent purpose, with reference to our cookery, and
the lighting of our shanty at night. It served, also, to conduct the
smoke upward, and prevented it from being blown into our faces, as we
sat in front, at once, of our sleeping-place and our camp-fire. The
only things that reminded us of civilization, aside from what we
carried with us, were the innumerable crickets that, through all the
night, kept up their chirruping in the crevices of this rude
fireplace. There was something old-fashioned and sociable in their
song. These, with the shrill notes of the little peepers along the
shore, were old sounds to us, familiar voices, and they fell
pleasantly on the ear. We had finished our meal, and taken to our
pipes in the evening, as the sun went down among the old forests, away
off in the west. The greyness of twilight came stealing over the
water, and grew into darkness in the beautiful valley where that lake
lay sleeping. The stars stole out silently, and set their watch in the
sky, and calmness and repose rested upon everything around us.
"I remember," said Smith, "the first year that I was in college, of
hearing two learned professors disputing about what sort of animal it
was that made the piping noise we hear in the marshy places, and
stagnant pools, in the spring time, usually known as peepers. One
insisted that it was a newt, or small lizard; and I remember that he
went to his library, and brought a volume which proved his theory to
be correct. The other denied the authority of the author, and insisted
that the peeper was a frog. The discussion excited my curiosity, and I
made up my mind to satisfy myself on the subject, if possible, by
occular demonstration. There was a small marshy place, half a mile, or
so, from the college grounds, from which I had heard, in my walks, the
music of the peepers coming up every evening, in a loud and joyous
chorus. I watched by it a number of evenings, and though there were a
plenty of peepers, piping merrily enough, yet I could not get sight of
one to save me. I began to think it was a myth, the viewless spirit of
the bog, that made all the noises about which the learned professors
had been disputing. At last, however, I got sight of a peeper, caught
him in the act, and saw that it was, in fact, a little frog, nothing
more, nothing less. He was not more than three feet from me, and
though, when I moved, he hid himself in the muddy water, yet I managed
to capture and take him home alive. He was a little animal, certainly,
not larger than a half-dollar piece, and it was marvellous how a thing
so small could make such a loud and piercing noise. I took him to my
room, and placed him in a water-tight box, in which I fashioned an
artificial bog, in the hope that he would confirm my testimony by his
piping. The second evening, as I sat in my room, poring over the
recitations of the morrow, he lifted up his voice, loud, shrill, and
clear, as when singing in his native marsh. I hurried, in triumph, to
the learned disputants about his identity, and in their presence, he
furnished unanswerable evidence that the peeper was a frog, and not a
newt. I was complimented by both the learned pundits, as though I had
added a great item to the aggregate of human knowledge."
"You _did_ do a great thing, my friend," said Spalding, "you solved a
mystery about which men, wise in the learning of the books, had
perhaps been disputing for centuries. What are the peepers? asked the
naturalist, who listened to their piping notes from the marshy places
in the spring time. It was a matter of small practical importance,
what they were. Still it was a question which MIND wanted to have
solved. Its solution would do no great amount of good to the world.
But then it was a mystery which it was the business of mind to lay
bare; and what more has science done in tracing the history and
progress of this earth of ours, as written upon the rocks, among which
geology has been so long delving? 'What are the peepers?' asked the
naturalist. 'They are newts, little lizards,' answers a learned
pandit. 'They are spirits of the bog, myths, that hold their carnival
in the early grass of the marshy pools,' says the theorist and poet,
who _believes_ in the idealities of a poetic fancy. 'They are frogs,'
says a third, who is ready to chop any amount of logic in favor of his
system of frogology, and hereupon columns of argument, and pages of
learned discussion, have been held over the identity of the jolly
peepers of the spring-time.
"But you discarded logic, threw away argument, and came down to the
sure demonstrations of sober fact. You watched by the marshy pool, and
caught the 'peeper' in the act, took him '_in flagrante, delicto_,' as
the lawyers say, and thus ended the theoretical discussion about the
'peepers.' You placed another fixed fact upon the page of
natural history.
"And how often has the wisdom of the schools, the philosophy of the
profoundest theorists, been overthrown by the simple demonstrations of
practical facts? For a thousand years the world was in pursuit of the
giant power that lay hidden in heated vapor, the steam that came
floating up from boiling water. That power eluded the grasp and
baffled the research of human genius, which was looking so earnestly
after it, until ingenuity gave it up, and philosophy pronounced it a
delusion. Not far from the beginning of the present century, practical
experiment began to develop the mysterious power of steam. Rudely and
imperfectly harnessed, at first, it still made the great wheel
revolve, and men talked about making it a great motor for mechanical
purposes. Philosophy volunteered its demonstrations of the absolute
impossibility of such a thing. Still human ingenuity felt its way
carefully onward, until the great fact was developed, that steam was
in truth capable of moving machinery, was endowed almost with
vitality, and could be made to throw the shuttle and spin. Ingenious
men hinted that it might be made to propel water-craft in the place of
wind and sails, and thus be harnessed into the service of commerce, as
it had already been into that of manufactures. Here again philosophy
interposed its axioms, and declared the scheme among the wild vagaries
of a distempered fancy. But years rolled on, and the tall ship that
swung out upon the broad ocean, and moved forward when the air was
still and calmness was on the face of the deep, forward in the eye of
the wind--forward in the teeth of the storm, that stopped not for
billow or blast, gave the lie to philosophy, and scattered the theory
of the wise like chaff.
"The lightning, that fierce spirit of the storm, that darted down on
its mission of destruction from the black cloud floating in the sky,
became a thing of interest to the mechanical world, and the question
was asked, 'Why cannot the lightning be harnessed into the service of
man, and be made utilitarian?' Philosophy sneered at the wild
delusion, but see how that same subtle and mysterious agency has been
conquered? Note how truthfully it carries every word intrusted to its
charge, along thousands of miles of the telegraph wire, with a speed,
in comparison with which, sound is a laggard, a speed that annihilates
alike space and time. Men looked into a mirror, and seeing their own
counterpart, a _fac-simile_ of themselves reflected there, began to
ask, 'Why may not that shadow be fixed; fastened in some way, to
remain upon the polished surface that gives it back, even after the
original may be mouldering in the grave?' Here again philosophy laid
its finger upon its nose, and winked facetiously, as if it had found a
new subject for ridicule, in the stupendous folly of such an inquiry.
But from that simple question, rose up the Daguerreian art; an art
which fixes upon metallic plates, upon paper, the shadow of a man, of
palace and cottage, of mountain and field, giving thus a picture ten
thousand times truer to nature than the pencil of the cunningest
artist. These and a thousand other mighty triumphs of human ingenuity
have fought their way onward to their present position, against the
fogyism of philosophy, the inertia of the schoolmen. They have been
the sequence of cold, resistless demonstrations of experiment and
fact. The world would stand still but for the spirit of research for
the practical; for experimental, and not theoretical knowledge, that
is abroad. It is this spirit that moves the world in all its present
matchless career of progress, and distinguishes our era above all
others of the world's existence. You may be thankful, my friend, that
you have been able to add another fixed fact to the stock of human
knowledge, even though it be only that the 'peeper' is a frog, and not
a 'newt' or a 'myth.'
"But who would suppose that such a tiny little frogling could make
such a loud, shrill, and ear-piercing sound? Who would think that a
million of such puny things, could make the air of a summer evening so
full of the music of their songs? I remember how, in my boyhood, I
listened to their voices, which came up loudest, shrillest, merriest,
when twilight was spreading its grey mantle over the earth; while the
song of the birds was hushing into silence, and the coming darkness
was lulling the things of the day into repose; Oh! how merrily they
sang along the little brooklet that took its rise in a spring in the
meadow, and wended its way among the young grass, just springing into
verdure, to the beautiful lake beyond. Their song is in my ear now,
and that meadow, that beautiful lake, the tall hills on the summits of
which the departing sunlight lingered, the tall maples that clustered
in their conelike beauty around that gushing fountain, the clustered
plum trees, the giant oak, spared by the woodman's axe when the old
forest was swept away, the fields, the 'Gulf' in the hill-side, and
the beautiful creek, that came cascading down the shelving rocks, and
leaping over precipices in which the speckled trout sported: all these
are before me now--a vision of loveliness, all the more dear because
stamped upon the memory when life was young. Oh! Time! Time! the
wrecks that lie scattered in thy pathway! That little brooklet, and
the peepers, the fountain, the maples, and the meadow, are all gone.
The brave old oak was riven by the lightning. The fields have crept up
to the very summit of the hills, and even the stream that came down
from the mountain has vanished away, save when the rains, or the
melting snows send it in a freshet over the rocks where, when I was a
boy, it was cascading always. That beautiful meadow, too, is gone, and
the streets of a modern village, with blocks of houses, and stores,
and shops, occupy the place where I swung my first scythe. The old
log-house vanished years and years ago. A steamboat ploughs its way
through that beautiful lake, and the things of my boyhood are but
visions of memory, called up from the long, long past. Not one
landmark of the olden time remains. Oh! Time! Time!"
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CRICKET IN THE WALL--THE MINISTER'S ILLUSTRATION--OLD MEMORIES.
We spent the following day in drifting quietly around the lake,
floating lazily in the little bays, under the shadow of the tall
trees, and lounging upon small islands, gathering the low-bush
whortleberries which grew in abundance upon them. We filled our tin
pails with this delicious fruit for a dessert for our evening meal. On
one of these islands we found indications of its being inhabited by
wood rabbits, and we sent Cullen to the shanty for the dogs to course
them, not however with any intention of capturing them, but to enjoy
the music of the chase, and hear the voices of the hounds echoing over
the water. We landed them upon the island, and began beating for the
game. The hounds understanding that their business was the pursuit of
deer, and having hunted the island over thoroughly, came back to us,
and sat quietly down upon their haunches, as much as to say there was
nothing there worth looking after. But we had seen one of the little
animals that had been roused from its bed by the dogs, and we called
their special attention to the fact by leading them to the spot, and
bidding them to "hunt him up." They understood our meaning, and
started on the trail, with a loud and cheerful cry. For half an hour,
they coursed him round and round the island, making the lake vocal
with their merry music. We might have shot the game they were pursuing
fifty times, but we had no design against its life. The little fellow
did not seem to be greatly alarmed, for we noted him often, when by
doubling he had temporarily thrown off the dogs, squat himself down,
and throw his long ears back in the direction of the sound that had
been pursuing him; and when the dogs straightened upon his trail, and
approached where he sat, he would bound nimbly away among the thick
bushes to double on them again.
We called off the dogs and passed on to float along under the shadow
of the forest trees and the hills, and take an occasional trout by way
of experiment among the broken rocks along the shore. We had
dispatched Cullen to the shanty to prepare dinner for us by six
o'clock, at which hour we were to be at home. Cullen had promised, to
use his own expression, "to spread himself" in the preparation of this
meal, and he kept his promise. On our return, we found a sirloin of
moose roasted to a turn, a stake of bear-meat broiled on the coals, a
stew of jerked venison, and as pleasant a dish of fried trout and pork
as an epicure could desire. Our appetites were keen, and we did ample
justice to his cookery. This was one of the most delightful evenings
that I have ever spent in the northern woods. There was such a calm
resting upon all things, such an impress of repose upon forest and
lake, such a cheerful quiet and serenity all around us, that one could
scarcely refrain from rejoicing aloud in the beauty and the glory of
the hour. As the sun sank to his rest behind the western hills, and
the twilight began to gather in the forest and over the lake, the moon
rose over the eastern high lands, walking with a queenly step up into
the sky, casting a long line of brilliant light across the waters,
showing the shadows of the mountains in bold outline in the depths
below, and paling the stars by her brightness above. We all felt that
we were recruiting in strength so rapidly in these mountain regions,
where the air was so bracing and pure, under the influence of
exercise, simple diet, natural sleep, and the absence of the labors
and cares of business, that we were contented, notwithstanding the
monotony that began to mark our everyday proceedings.
"I have been listening," said Spalding, as we sat upon the rude
benches in front of our camp-fire, indulging in our usual season of
smoking after our meals, "to the song of the crickets in those rude
jams, and they call up sad, yet pleasant memories from the long past;
of the old log house, the quiet fire-place, the crane in the jam, the
great logs blazing upon the hearth of a cold winter evening, the house
dog sleeping quietly in the corner, and the cat nestled confidingly
between his feet. Oh! the days of old! the days of old! These crickets
call back with these memories the circle that gathered around the
hearth of my home, when I was young. Father, mother, brothers,
sisters, playmates, and friends. How quietly some of them grew old and
ripe, and then dropped into the grave. How quietly others stole away
in their youth to the home of the dead, and how the rest have drifted
away on the currents of life and are lost to me in the mists and
shadows of time. Even the home and the hearth are gone; they
  'Battled with time and slow decay,'
until at last they were wiped out from the things that are. The song
of the peepers is a pleasant memory, and comes welling up with a
thousand cherished recollections of our vanished youth; but the song
of the cricket that made its home in the jams of the great stone
fire-place is pleasanter, and the memories that come floating back
with his remembered lay are pleasanter still. He was always there. He
was not silent, like the out-door insect, through the spring month and
the cold of winter, piping only in sadness when the still autumnal
evenings close in their brightness and beauty over the earth; but he
sang always, and his chirrup was heard at all seasons. In the winter
the fire on the hearth warmed him; in the summer he had a cool resting
place, and he was cheerful and merry through all the long year. And
this reminds me of an anecdote of a venerable minister, who passed
years ago to his rest. He was a Scotchman, and when preaching to his
own congregation at Salem, in Washington comity, he indulged in broad
Scotch, which to those who were accustomed to it was exceedingly
pleasant. I was a boy then, and was returning with my father from a
visit to Vermont. We stopped over the Sabbath at Salem, and attended
worship in the neat little church of that pleasant village. There were
no railroads in those days. The iron horse had not yet made his
advent, and the scream of the steam whistle had never startled the
echoes that dwell among the gorges of the Green Mountain State. Oh!
Progress! Progress! I have travelled that same route often since, more
than once within the year, and I flew over in an hour what was the
work of all that cold winter day that brought us at night to that neat
little village of Salem. I thought, as I dashed with a rush over the
road I once travelled so leisurely, how change was written upon
everything; how time and progress had obliterated all the old
landmarks, leaving scarcely anything around which memory could cling.
Well! well! it is so everywhere. All over the world, change,
improvement, progress are the words. The venerable minister, for his
locks were grey, and time had ploughed deep furrows down his cheeks,
and draws palpable lines across his brow, was, as my memory paints
him, the personification of earnestness, sincerity and truth. The text
and the drift of the sermon I have forgotten, save the little fragment
that fixed itself in my memory by the singularity of the figure by
which he illustrated his meaning. He was speaking of the operation of
the Holy Spirit upon the human heart, and how gently it won men from
their sinful ways. He said, 'It was not boisterous, like the rush of
the tempest; it was not fierce, like the lightning; it was not loud,
like the thunder; but it was a still sma' voice, like a wee cricket in
the wa's.' I regard the cricket that chirruped in the wall as an
institution. One of the past to be sure, swept away by the current of
progress, whose course is onward always; over everything, obliterating
everything, hurling the things of today into history, or burying them
in eternal oblivion. In this country there is nothing fixed, nothing
stationary, and never has been since the first white man swung his axe
against the outside forest tree; since the first green field was
opened up to the sunlight from the deep shadows of the old forests
that had stood there, grand, solemn, and boundless since this
world was first thrown from the hand of God. There will be nothing
fixed for centuries to come. The tide of progress will sweep onward in
the future as it has done in the past. Onward is the great watchword
of America, and American institutions; onward and onward, over the
ancient forests; onward, over the log-houses that stood in the van of
civilization; over the great fire-places; over the cricket in the
wall; over the old house dog that slept in the corner; over the loved
faces that clustered around the blazing hearth in the days of our
childhood; over everything primitive, everything, my friends, that you
and I loved, when we were little children, and that comes drifting
along down on the current of memory--bright visions of the returnless
past. Ah, well! it is best that it should be so. It is best that the
world should move on; that there should be no pause, no halting in the
onward march. What are we that the earth should stand still at our
bidding, or pause to contemplate our tears? Dust to dust is the great
law, but so long as a phoenix rises from the ashes of decay, what
right have we to murmur? Time may desolate and destroy, but man can
build up and beautify. True, his works perish as he perishes, but new
works and new men are rising forever to fill, and more than fill, the
vacancies and desolations of the past. Go ahead then, world! Sweep
along, Progress! Mow away, Time! Tear down temple and stronghold;
sweep away the marble palace and log-house! sweep away infancy and
youth, manhood and old age; wipe out old memories, and pass the sponge
over cherished recollections. The energy and the ingenuity of man are
an over-match even for time. From the ruins of the past, from the
desolations of decay, new structures will rise, and a new harvest,
more abundant than the old, will spring up from the stubble over which
Time's sickle has passed. Recuperation is a law stronger than decay,
and it is written all over the face of the earth."
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE ACCIDENTS OF LIFE--"SOME MEN ACHIEVE GREATNESS, AND SOME HAVE
GREATNESS THRUST UPON THEM"--A SLIDE--RATTLESNAKES AT THE TOP AND AN
ICY POOL AT THE BOTTOM--A FANCIFUL THEORY.
While we sat thus conversing, our boatmen went down along the beach,
and around a little point that ran out into the lake, to bathe. They
were jolly, but uncultivated men, given to rudeness and profanity of
speech when out of our immediate presence, and by themselves, and we
heard from them, while they were splashing and struggling in the
water, expressions somewhat inelegant as well as profane.
"I have often thought," said Spalding, as we listened to the rude and
sometimes profane speech of our men, "how vast the influence which
circumstances or accident, over which men have no control, have upon
their conduct and destiny in this world, if not in the next. The poet
has well said,
     'Full many a gem of purest ray serene
       The dark unfathomed caves of Ocean bear;
     And many a flower is born to blush unseen,
       And waste its sweetness on the desert air.'
"These rude men are but testifying to the great truth, that man is the
creature, in a greater or less degree, of circumstances; that he is
great or small, polished or rude, wise or simple, according to the
accident of his birth, or the surroundings in the midst of which his
journey of life lays. True, there _are_ intellects that will work
themselves into position, men who will hew their way upward in spite
of the difficulties which beset them, as there are others who will
plunge down to degradation and dishonor, in defiance of tender
rearing, of education, of association, and all the allurements to an
upward career that can be presented to the human understanding. But
these are so rare, that they may be properly regarded as exceptions to
the general rule; so rare, indeed, as to prove its truth. You and I
can look around us, and from among our acquaintances select many men
and women, whose genius and solid understanding, and whose virtues
too, have remained undeveloped, and probably will do so till they die,
from lack of opportunity for their exercise. Accident seems to have
stricken them from their legitimate sphere. Circumstances, for which
they were not responsible, and over which they could exercise no
control, have barred them out from their seeming true position in the
world, and the genius which was intended for the daylight and the
eagle's flight towards the sun, is left to skim in darkness along the
ground, like the course of the mousing owl. We have all seen another
thing, which baffles our philosophy, while it proves the truth of the
theory of which I am speaking. We have seen men, and see them every
day, who, from no quality of heart or mind seem fitted to rise in the
world, occupying commanding positions to which accident has lifted
them; whose genius commands no admiration, whose virtues are of a
doubtful character, and who possess no one quality which entitles them
to our respect or the respect of the world. As the former are the
victims of circumstance, these latter are its creatures. Both are the
sport of fortune; the one class its victims, and the other its
favorites. How is all this to be accounted for? And where rests the
responsibility of failure, and where the credit of success? Are there
accidents floating about among the paths marked out on the chart of
life by the Deity, which jostle his creatures from the destiny
intended for them? Or were men thrown loose upon the currents of life,
to take their chances of good and evil, to be virtuous or vile,
according to the influences among which they were floating, to be
fortunate or otherwise, as the means of advancing themselves drifted
within their reach? If so, where rests the responsibility, I ask
again, of failure, and where the credit of success? Children are born
into the world under strangely different influences. One first sees
the light in the haunts of vice and crime, amidst the corruptions
which fester away down in the depths of a great city. The influences
which surround it are only and always evil. They are such in infancy,
in childhood, in youth, and in manhood. Another is cradled under the
influence of intelligences, piety, virtue; having around it always the
safeguards of refined and Christian civilization. What is the
difference in the degree of responsibility attached to the future of
these antipode beginnings? Can you tell me where, and how these wide,
terribly wide distinctions are to be reconciled? When and where the
career of these germs of being, starting from points so wide asunder,
are to meet, and how the balances of good and evil, of suffering and
enjoyment of sinning and retribution, are to be adjusted at last? I
have been asking myself, too, while listening to the speech of these
men, so thoughtlessly uttered, where these profane epithets, these
impious expressions, are to rest at last? Who can tell whether they do
not go jarring through the universe, marring the music of the spheres,
throwing discord into the anthems of the morning stars when they sing
together, a wail among the glad voices of the sons of God, when they
shout for joy? In this world, and to the dulness of human perception,
when the sound of the impious words has died away, or a smile comes
back to the face clouded by the angry thought, the effect seems to
have ceased; but it may not be so. The word or the thought may be
wandering for ages, vibrating still, away off among the outer
creations of God. The angel that bore them at the beginning from the
lips or the heart, may be flying still, and generations and centuries
may have passed, before his journeying with them shall have ceased.
"It is a fanciful idea, that whatever we say or think, is immortal;
that every word we utter goes ringing through the universe forever;
that every thought of the heart becomes a creation, a thing of
vitality in some shape, starting forward among the things of some sort
of life, never to die! I have sometimes, in my dreamy hours,
speculated upon the truth of such a theory, and reasoned with myself
in favor of its reality. All I can say in its favor, however, is that
I cannot disprove it. It may be true, or it may not. There are other
mysteries quite as incomprehensible, the results of which we can see,
without being able to penetrate the darkness in which they dwell. But
assuming its truth, and appreciating the consequences which would
follow, we should rule the tongue with a sterner sway, and guard the
heart with a more watchful care than is our wont. Think of the obscene
word becoming a living entity, the profane oath a thing of life; the
filthy or impure thought, assuming form and vitality, all starting
forward to exist forever among the creations of infinite purity. Who
would own one of these ogres in comparison with the beautiful things
of God? Who would say of the obscene word, the profane oath, or the
filthy or impious thought, 'this is mine. I made it. I am the author
of its being--its creator!' And yet it may be so. If it is, there are
few of us who have not thrown into life much, very much to mar the
harmonies of nature, to throw discord among the spheres."
"Your statement," remarked Smith, "that accident has much to do with
making or marring the fortunes of men, is doubtless true. Men are
destroyed by accident, and their lives are sometimes saved by it. And
if you'll put away metaphysics, come out of the cloud in which you
have hid yourself in your dreamy speculations, I will furnish you with
a case in point, showing that a man may get into a very unpleasant
predicament, where he runs a great risk and gets some hard knocks, and
yet be able to thank God for it, in perfect earnestness of spirit. A
case of the kind came under my own observation, and while there was
not much philosophy, or abstract speculation about it, there was a
great deal of hard practical fact. It happened when I was a boy, at
the old homestead, in the valley that stretches to the southwest from
the head of Crooked Lake. That valley is hemmed in by high and steep
hills, and at the tune of which I speak, was much more beautiful in my
view than it is now. There was no village there then, and the farms
which stretched from hill to hill were greatly less valuable than they
are now; but the woods and pastures, and meadows, lay exactly in the
right places, and had among them partridges, and squirrels, and
pigeons, and cattle, and sheep enough to make things pleasant;
besides, there were plenty of trout in those days, in the stream that
flows along through the valley midway between the hills. On the north
side, coming down through a gorge, or 'the gulf,' as we used to call
it, was a stream which, in the dry season of the year, was a little
brook, trickling over the rocks, but which, in the spring freshets, or
when the clouds emptied themselves on the mountain, was a wild,
foaming, roaring, and resistless torrent. In following this stream
into 'the gulf,' you walked on a level plain between walls of rock,
rising two or three hundred feet on either hand, and a dozen or more
rods apart, until you came to 'the falls,' down which the stream
rushed with a plunge and a roar, when its back was up, or over which,
in the dry season, it quietly rippled. These 'falls' were not
perpendicular, but steep as the roof of a Dutch barn, and it was a
great feat to climb them when the stream was low. Ascending about
fifty feet, you came to a broad flat rock, large and smooth as a
parlor floor, and which in the summer season was dry. Well, one day,
in company with a boy who was visiting me, I went up to the 'falls,'
and we concluded to climb the shelving rocks to the 'table;' and
taking off our shoes and stockings, entered upon the perilous
ascent--for such to some extent it was. Hands and feet, fingers and
toes, were all put in requisition. My friend began the ascent before I
did, and was half way up when I started. I ought to have said, that at
the foot of the 'falls,' was a basin, worn away by the torrent, and in
which the water, clear and cold, then stood to the depth of three or
four feet. We were toiling painfully up, when I heard a rush above,
and in an instant my friend came like an arrow past me, sliding down
the shelving rocks on his back, or rather in a half-sitting posture,
his rear to the rocks. I won't undertake to say that the fire flew as
he went by me, for the rocks were slate, and therefore such a
phenomenon was not likely to occur, but the entire absence of the seat
of my friend's pantaloons, and the blood that trickled down to his
toes, showed that the friction was considerable. As he passed me, I
heard him exclaim, 'thank God,' and the next instant he plunged into
the cold water at the base of the falls. What there was to be thankful
for in such a descent over the rocks, I could not at the time
comprehend, as the chances were in favor of a broken back, or neck, or
some other consummation equally out of the range of gratitude, in an
ordinary way. He came up out of the water blowing and snorting like a
porpoise with a cold in his head, and waded to the shore. 'Come down,'
he shouted, which I did, not quite so far or fast as he did, but fast
enough to make an involuntary plunge, head foremost, into the pool at
the bottom. The occasion of his catastrophe was this: he had ascended
so near the table rock, that his hands were upon it, and was lifting
himself up, when, as his eyes came above the surface, the edge upon
which his hands with most of his weight rested, gave way, and he
started for the basin below. But he had a view of what satisfied him
that to this accident he owed his life, and it was a sense of
gratitude for his escape, that prompted the exclamation I heard as he
went bumping past me. Coiled on the rock above, and within reach of
his face, were several large rattlesnakes, and he always insisted that
one made a spring at him, as his hands gave way, and he put out for
the basin into which he plunged. He was a good deal bruised, but his
escape from the poisonous reptiles reconciled him to that."
CHAPTER XXV.
HEADED TOWARDS HOME--THE MARTIN AND SABLE HUNTER--HIS
CABIN--AUTUMNAL SCENERY.
We concluded that we would break up our camp in the morning, and drift
leisurely back towards civilization. We had tarried upon this
beautiful lake until we had explored its romantic nooks, and we
started on our return to our old camping ground at the foot of Round
Pond. We had refrained for two days from disturbing the deer, and our
supply of fresh venison was entirely exhausted. Just at the outlet of
the lake we were leaving, is a little bay, towards the head of which
are a great number of boulders, laying around loose, scattered about
like haycocks in a meadow, only a great many more to the acre. The
water about these boulders is shallow, and the lily-pads and grasses
make a luxuriant pasture for the deer. Among these boulders, and
concealed by one of them, save when his head was up, was a deer. While
he fed we could see nothing of him, but when he raised his head to
look around him, that alone was visible above the rock. Smith and
myself were in the leading boat, he in the bow with his rifle. As the
current swept near the rocks where the deer was feeding, we let our
little craft drift quietly in that direction. As we came within
shooting distance, say from fifteen to twenty rods, Smith adjusted his
rifle, and as the animal raised its head above the rock, he sighted
him carefully, and fired. It was a beautiful shot. There was nothing
of the animal but the head visible, and the bullet, true to its aim,
struck it square between the eyes, and it fell dead. This shot,
together with the glory of killing the bear, elated Smith wonderfully,
and upon the strength of them, he assumed the championship of the
We drew the deer into the baggage-boat, and sent forward our pioneer
to erect our tents, and prepare a late dinner, at our old camping
ground, while we landed with the dogs on the island near the head of
Round Pond, or Lake, to course whatever game they might find upon it.
They soon burst into full chorus, and dashed away. The island is
small, containing only a few acres, and the game could not, therefore,
take a wide range After a single turn, a deer broke, like a maddened
war-horse, from the thicket, and plunging into the lake, struck boldly
for the mainland, five hundred yards distant. We were near by with our
two boats when he took to the water, and we thought we would accompany
him as an escort to the shore; so we rowed up, and with a boat on each
side, and within ten feet of him, as he swam, escorted him towards the
forest. We treated him with great respect, offering him no indignity,
interfering with him in nothing; and yet the old fellow seemed very
far from appreciating our politeness, or relishing our company. The
truth is, he was horribly frightened, and he struggled desperately to
rid himself of our association; but we stuck by him like his destiny,
talking kindly to him, endeavoring to impress upon his mind that we
meant him no harm--indeed, that we were his friends. But, I repeat, he
did not appreciate our politeness. By-and-by his feet touched the
sand, and he bounded forward, as much as to say, "Good-bye,
gentlemen," when a simultaneous yell from all six of us, and the
discharge of four rifles in quick succession over him, added
wonderfully to the energy of his flight. He will be likely to
recognise us if he ever meets us again, and if the past furnishes any
admonitions to his kind, he will give us a wide berth.
We rowed leisurely along the eastern shore, and in a deep bay found
excellent fishing, at the mouth of a cold mountain brook. On the banks
of this bay we found the winter hut of a martin and sable trapper. It
had an outer and inner apartment, the latter almost subterranean. The
hut was composed of small logs, which a single man could lay up, the
crevices between which were closely packed with moss, and the roof
covered with two or three layers of bark. The doorway was sawed
through these logs, and a door, constructed of bark, was made to fit
it; a rude hearth of sandstone was built in one corner, and a hole was
open above it to let out the smoke. Against the outside of this pen,
only about ten feet square, logs were leaned up, the ends of which
rested upon the ground, the interstices between them carefully stopped
with moss, and the whole covered with bark; the ends consisted of
stakes, driven into the ground and chinked with moss. Into this
sleeping apartment a door was cut from the parlor, large enough for a
man to pass by getting down on all-fours; while within was a plentiful
supply of boughs from the spruce and fir tree. In this hut, now so
dark, and in which the air was so dead and fetid, a solitary trapper
had wintered, pursuing his occupation of martin and sable hunting--the
which, if tolerably successful, would yield him some two or three
hundred dollars the season. He carried into the woods a bag of flour
or meal, a few pounds of pork, pepper, salt, and tea; and this, with
the game he killed, made up his supply of food. With no companion but
his dog, he had probably spent two or three months, and very possibly
more, in this lonely cabin.
We arrived at our camp towards evening, and dined sumptuously on fresh
venison and trout. Our pioneer had provided a luxurious bed of boughs
within, and had fashioned rude seats in front of our tents. He had
rolled the butt of a huge tree, which he had felled, to the proper
place, against which to kindle our camp-fire, and we had a pleasant
place to sit, with our pipes, in the evening, looking out over the
water, listening to the pile-drivers, half a dozen of which were
driving their stakes along the reedy shore, with commendable
diligence. The sunlight lay so beautifully on the hillsides, and
contrasted so admirably with the deep shadows of the valley beneath,
the lake was so calm and still, the old woods stood around so moveless
and solemn, that one could scarcely persuade himself that he was not
looking upon some gigantic picture, the fanciful grouping and
transcendent coloring of some ingenious and winning artist.
"The hillsides about these lakes," remarked the Doctor, "must be
superlatively beautiful in the fall, when the forest puts on its
autumnal foliage. They present such a variety of trees, of so many
different kinds, and the hills and mountains are so admirably
arranged, that they must be gorgeous beyond description. However we
may prefer the green and _living_ beauty of spring, when everything is
so full of vitality, so buoyant and free, yet the autumn scenery is
the most magnificent of any in the year."
"Every season has its charms," said Spalding, "Even the winter, with
its cold, its dead and cheerless desolation, has its robe of chaste
and peerless white, which, as well as that of the spring-time, the
summer, and the autumn, has been the theme of song. I agree with you,
that in gorgeousness of beauty, there is no season so rich as the
autumn. Spring-time has its pleasant scenery, its genial days, its
deep green, its flowers, and its singing birds; and these are all the
more lovely because they follow so closely upon the cold storms, and
bleak winds, the chilling and blank desolation of winter. We love the
spring because of its freshness, its pervading vitality, its
recuperating influences. Everybody loves the spring-time; everybody
talks about the spring-time; poets sing of it; orators praise it;
'fair women and brave men' laud it; so that were spring-time human,
and possessing human instincts, and subject to human frailties, it
would have plenty of excuse, for becoming a very vain personage.
"Somebody has called the autumnal days the 'saddest of the year.' I
have forgotten who he was, if I ever knew; but in my judgment, he was
all wrong. Dark days there are--damp, chilly, misty, wet, and
unpleasant days in autumn; days that make one relish a corner by an
old-fashioned fire. There are gusty, windy, capricious days in autumn,
which nobody cares to praise, when the northwest wind goes sweeping
over the forest, roaring among the trees, and whirling the sere leaves
along the ground, and which, to tell the truth about them, are
anything but pleasant. But 'some days _must_ be dark and dreary,' and
they serve to give the sunlight of a bright to-morrow a keener relish,
and a lovelier comparative beauty. To call the fall days the 'saddest
of the year' is an absurdity, poetical I admit, but still an
absurdity. There is nothing sad in a cold, or a wet, a drizzly, a
gusty, or a stormy day; much there may be that is unpleasant, much
that one may be disposed to quarrel with, but they are anything
"A calm autumnal day in the country is a great thing, a beautiful
thing, a thing to thank God for; a thing to make one happy, buoyant of
spirit, full of gratitude to the great Creator; a thing to make one
merry, too, not with a loud and boisterous mirth, but with a heart
full to overflowing with cheerfulness, and a calm joy. To see the
bright sun standing in his glory up in the sky, shedding his placid
light over the earth, when the air is clear, the winds hushed, and the
leaves are still and moveless on the trees; and then to look along the
hillsides, and mark the bright sunlight, and the deep shadows, the
green of the fir, the hemlock, and the spruce, the yellow of the
birch, the crimson of the maple, the dark brown of the beech, the grey
of the oak, the silver glow of the popple, and the varying shades of
all these, mingling and blending in all the harmony of brilliant
coloring. Why, these hillsides are decked like a maiden in her beauty,
like a bride robed for the altar! Talk about springtime, or summer!
Green on the hillside! green in the meadows and pastures! green
everywhere--all around is changeless and everlasting green! as if
hillside and valley, forest and field, had but a single dress for
morning, noon, and night, and that only and always green! True, there
is the music of the birds, joyous notes and variant, happy and
hilarious, in the spring-time, but there is no cricket under the flat
stone in the pasture, his song is not heard in the stone wall, or in
the corner of the fences; no music of the katydid; no tapping of the
woodpecker on the hollow tree, or the dead limb; no chattering of the
squirrel, as he gathers his winter store; no pattering of the faded
leaves, as they come so quietly down from their places; no falling of
the ripened nuts, loosened from their burs or shucks by the recent
frosts. All these sounds belong to the calm autumnal days, and while
they differ the whole heavens from the merry songs of spring, there is
nothing sad about them. No! No! nothing sad. I remember (and who that
was reared in the country does not) when I was a boy, how I went out
in the sunny days of autumn, after the frosts had painted the
hillsides, to gather chestnuts; and when the breeze rustled among the
branches, how the nuts came rattling down; and how if the winds were
still, I climbed into the trees and shook their tops, and how the
chestnuts pattered to the ground like a shower of hail. I remember the
squirrels how they chattered, and chased each other up and down the
trees, or leaped from branch to branch, gathering here and there a
nut, and scudding away to their store houses in the hollow trees,
providing in this season of plenty for the barrenness of the winter
months. I remember, too, how we gathered, in those same old autumnal
days, hickory-nuts and butter-nuts by the bushel; and how pleasant it
was in the long cold winter evenings, to sit around the great old
kitchen fire-place, cracking the nuts we had gathered when the green,
the yellow, the crimson, the brown, the grey, and the pale leaves were
on the trees. Pleasant evenings those seem to me now, as they come
floating down on the current of memory from the long past, and dear
are the faces of those that made up the tableaux as they were grouped
around those winter fires. Logs were blazing on the great hearth, and
the pineknots, thrown at intervals on the fire, gave a bold and
cheerful light throughout that capacious kitchen. I remember how the
winter wind went glancing over the house-top, whirling, and eddying,
and moaning around the corners, hissing under the door and sending its
cold breath in at every crevice; and how the windows rattled when the
blast came fiercest, and how the smoke would sometimes whirl down the
great chimney, I remember well where my father's chair was always
placed; and where my mother sat of those winter evenings, when her
household cares were over for the day, plying her needle, or knitting,
or darning stockings, or mending garments, for such employment was no
dishonor to the matrons of those days. With these for the leading
figures, I remember how seven brothers and sisters were grouped
around, and how the old house dog had a place in the corner, and how
lovingly the cat nestled between his feet. Cherished memories are
these pleasant visions and they come to me often, vivid as realities.
But the dream vanishes, the vision fades away, and I think of the six
pale, still faces as I saw them last, and of the names that are
chiseled upon the cold marble that stands through the sunny
spring-time, the heat of summer, the autumnal days, and the storms and
tempests of winter, over the graves of the dead."
CHAPTER XXVI.
A SURPRISE--A SERENADE--A VISIT FROM STRANGERS--AN
INVITATION TO BREAKFAST--A FASHIONABLE HOUR AND A
BOUNTIFUL BILL OF FARE.
The evening was calm, and the lake slept in stirless beauty before us.
The shadows of the mountains reached far out from the shore, lieing
like a dark mantle upon the surface of the waters, above and beneath
which the stars twinkled and glowed like the bright eyes of seraphs
looking down from the arches above, and up from the depths below. The
moon in her brightness sailed majestically up into the sky, throwing
her silver light across the bosom of the lake; millions of fireflies
flashed their tiny torches along the reedy shore; the solemn voices of
the night birds came from out the forest; the call of the raccoon and
the answer, the hooting of the owl, and the low murmur of the leaves,
stirred by the light breeze that moved lazily among the tree-tops, old
familiar music to us, were heard. This latter sound is always heard,
even in the stillest and calmest nights. There may be no ripple upon
the water; it may be moveless and smooth as a mirror, no breath of air
may sweep across its surface, and yet in the old forest among the
tree-tops, there is always that low ceaseless murmur, a soft
whispering as if the spirits of the woods were holding, in hushed
voices, communion together. We had retired for the night under the
cover of our tents. My companion had sunk into slumber, and I was just
in that dreamy state, half sleeping and half awake, which constitutes
the very paradise of repose, when there came drifting across the lake
the faint and far off strains of music, which, to my seeming, exceeded
in sweetness anything I had ever heard. They came so soft and
melodious, floating so gently over the water, and dying away so
quietly in the old woods, that I could scarce persuade myself of their
reality. For a while I lay luxuriating as in the delusion of a
pleasant dream, as though the melody that was abroad on the air was
the voices of angels chanting their lullaby into the charmed ear of
the sleeper. Presently, Smith raised his head, supporting his cheek
upon his hand, his elbow resting upon the ground, and after listening
for a moment, opened his eyes in bewilderment exclaiming, as he looked
in utter astonishment about him, "What, in the name of all that is
mysterious, is that?"
Spalding and the Doctor followed, and their amazement was equalled
only by their admiration when
     "Oft in the stilly night"
came stealing in matchless harmony over the water, "A serenade from
the Naiads, by Jupiter!" exclaimed Smith.
"A concert, by the Genii of the waters!" cried the
"Hush!" said Spalding, "we are trespassing upon fairy
domain; the spirits of these old woods, these mountains and
rock-bound lakes, are abroad, and well may they carol in
their joyousness in a night like this."
In a little while the music changed, and
     "Come o'er the moonlight sea"
came swelling over the lake. And again it changed and
     "Come mariner down in the deep with me"
went gently and swiftly abroad on the air. The music
ceased for a moment, and then two manly voices, of great
depth and power, came floating to our ears to the words:
  "'Farewell! Farewell! To thee, Araby's daughter,'
  Thus warbled a Perl, beneath the deep sea,
  'No pearl ever lay under Onan's dark water,
  More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee.'"
"That's flesh and blood, at least," exclaimed the Doctor, "and I
propose to ascertain who are treating as to this charming serenade in
the stillness of midnight."
We went down to the margin of the lake, and a few rods from the shore
lay a little craft like our own, in which were seated two gentlemen,
the one with a flute and the other with a violin. They had seen our
campfire from their shanty on the other side of the lake, and had
crossed over to surprise us with the melody of human music. And
pleasantly indeed it sounded in the stillness and repose of that
summer night in that wild region. The echoes that dwell among those
old forests, those hills and beautiful lakes, had never been startled
from their slumbers by such sounds before, and right merrily they
carried them from hill to hill, and through the old woods, and over
the calm surface of that sleeping lake, and with a joyousness, too,
that told how welcome they were among those wild and primeval things.
After listening to their music for half an hour, we invited our new
friends ashore. We found them to be two young gentlemen from
Philadelphia, who had just graduated at one of the Eastern colleges,
and who had concluded to spend a month among these mountains and
lakes, before entering upon the study of the profession to which they
were to devote themselves. They had been close friends from their
childhood, and room-mates during their collegiate course. They had
cultivated their taste for music, until few mere amateurs could equal
their skill upon their respective instruments, or in harmony of voice.
They were highly intelligent and courteous gentlemen, and if their
future shall equal the promise of the present, they will make their
mark in the world. We accepted, at parting, their invitation to
breakfast with them on the morrow, and at one o'clock they left us to
return to their shanty over the lake. We sent one of our boatmen to
row them home; and as they started across the water, they treated us
to a concert to which it was pleasant to listen. There is something
surpassingly sweet in the music of the flute and violin in the hands
of skillful performers; and yet, to my thinking, it falls far short of
the melody of the human voice. I have listened to some of the most
celebrated singers, and of the most distinguished performers, but it
appears to me now, that I never, on any other occasion, heard the
melody of the human voice, or instrumental music half so enchanting,
as that which came floating over the lake on that calm summer night.
There was a volume and compass about it which can never be reached in
a concert room. It was not loud, but it seemed to fill all the air
with its sweetness. It came over the senses like a pleasant dream, as
it went swelling up to the hills that skirted the lake, floating away
over the water, and dying away in lengthened cadence in the old
forests. Every other sound was hushed; the voices of the night-birds
were stilled; even the frogs along the shore suspended their
bellowing, and all nature seemed listening to the new harmony that
thus fell like enchantment upon the repose of midnight. The music grew
fainter and fainter as it receded, until only an occasional strain,
wavy and dream-like, came creeping like the voice of a spirit over the
water, and then it was lost in the distance. The frogs resumed their
roaring, the night-birds lifted up their voices; the raccoon called to
his fellow, and was answered away off in the forest; the pile-driver
hammered away at his stake, the old owl hooted solemnly from his
perch, and we retired to our tents to talk over the romance of our
serenade, and to dream of Ole Bull and the Swedish Nightingale.
The morning broke bright and balmy. A pleasant breeze swept lazily
over the lake, lifting the thin mist that hung like a veil of gauze
above the water. We left our tents standing, and crossed over to the
shanty of our friends of the previous evening to breakfast. We found
them living like princes. Their two boatmen had built them a log
shanty; open in front, and covered with bark so as to be impervious to
the rain, while within was a luxurious bed of boughs. Around the
campfire were benches of hewn slabs, and a table of the same material.
A few rods from the door a beautiful spring came bubbling up into a
little basin of pure white sand, the water of which was limpid and
cold almost as ice-water. They had been here for a week, hunting and
fishing. They had employed their leisure in jerking the venison they
had taken, of which they had some four or five bushels, and which they
intended to take home with them, to serve, together with the skins of
the deer they had slain, as trophies of their success.
They received us cordially, and we sat down to a breakfast, which, for
variety, at least, rivalled the elaborate preparations of the Astor or
the St. Nicholas; albeit, the cookery, as an abstract fact, might have
been of the simplest. We had venison-steak, pork, ham, jerked venison
stew, fresh trout, broiled partridge, cold roast duck, a fricassee of
wood rabbits, and broiled pigeon upon our table, coming in courses,
or piled up helter-skelter on great platters of birch bark, some on
tin plates, and now and then a choice bit on a chip! We had coffee,
and tea, and the purest of spring water, by way of beverage, and truth
compels me to admit, that under the advice of the Doctor, a drop or
two of Old Cognac may have been added by way of relish, or to temper
the effect of a hearty meal upon the delicate stomachs of some of the
guests. We were exceedingly fashionable in our time for breakfasting
this morning, and it was eleven o'clock before we rose from table. The
sun was travelling through a cloudless sky, and his brightness lay
like a mantle of glory upon the water, while his heat gave to the deep
shadows of the old trees, whose long arms with their clustering
foliage were interlocked above us, a peculiar charm. The description
which we gave of the beautiful lake we had left the day before, the
story of the moose and the bear we had killed, together with our
quit-claim of the shanty we had, inhabited, brought our friends to the
conclusion to drift that way for a week or so.
It was amusing to hear Smith relate the manner of capturing the bear,
the glory of which achievement he had won by the tossing up of a
dollar; how he had started out alone in one of the boats with his
rifle to look into a little bay half a mile below the shanty, where be
left the rest of us sleeping after dinner; and how, as he was floating
along under the shadow of the hills, at the base of a wall of rocks
some forty feet high, rising straight up from the water, he heard
something walking just over the precipice; and how he picked up his
rifle that lay in the bottom of the boat, to be ready for any
emergency; and then how astonished he was to see a great black bear
walk out into view along the edge of the rocks above, and how
carefully he sighted him; and how, at the crack of his rifle, the
animal came tumbling down the cliff, and how quick he reloaded and
gave trim a settler in the shape of a second bullet; and how he
tugged, and strained, and lifted to get him into the boat, and how
astonished we all were when he returned with his prize to camp. While
relating this wonderful achievement, he winked at the Doctor, as much
as to say, "fair play; remember our compact; stand by me now." And the
Doctor did stand by him, boldly endorsing, with a gravity that was
refreshing, every invention of Smith's prolific imagination, on the
subject of his slaughtering the bear.
We left our new friends in the afternoon; they to start in the morning
for our old camping-ground on the lake above, and we down the stream
on our retreat from the wilderness. We came back to our tents, after
securing a string of trout from the mouth of the little stream across
the bay. Our evening meal was over, and we sat around our campfire
just as the sun was hiding himself behind the western highlands, when,
from a little hollow in the forest behind us, and but a short way off,
we heard the call of a raccoon. Martin started over the ridge with the
dogs, and in five minutes he hallooed to us to come with our rifles
for he had the animal "treed," and ready to be brought down at "a
moment's warning." We went over to where he was, and sure enough, away
up in the top of a tall birch, sat his coonship, looking quietly down
upon the dogs that were baying at the foot of the tree.
"Gentlemen," said Spalding, "we will not all fire at this animal as we
did at Smith's bear. One bullet is enough for him, and if he gets down
among us, I think six men will be a match for one 'coon,' so we need
not be inhuman through a sense of danger. Whose shot shall he be?"
"I move that Spalding have the first shot," said Smith; and the motion
was carried.
"Do I understand you, gentlemen," Spalding inquired, adjusting
himself, as if preparing to bring down the game, "that I am to have
this first shot, and that no one is to fire until I have taken a fair
shot at him?"
We all answered, "Yes."
"Are you perfectly agreed in this, and do you all pledge yourselves to
abide the compact?" Spalding inquired again, bringing his rifle to a
present, and looking up at the game.
"All agreed," we answered, with one voice.
"Very well, gentlemen," said Spalding, shouldering his rifle, "there's
one life saved anyhow. That animal up there has been in great peril,
but he's safe now. I don't intend to fire at him sooner than ten
o'clock to-morrow, and if I understand our arrangements, we leave
here in the morning at six."
"Sold, by Moses!" exclaimed Martin, as he broke out into a roar that
you might have heard a mile; "I thought the Judge meant something, by
the time he wasted in talkin' and gettin' ready to shoot."
"Spalding," inquired Smith, "do you expect us to keep this compact?"
"Of course I do," he replied; "did any of us peach when you opened so
rich in the matter of your bear? Did any one break his compact with
you on that subject? Absolve us from our agreement about the bear, and
you may take my shot at that animal up in the tree."
"I wasn't born yesterday," Smith replied, "and I can't afford to
exchange the glory of killing the bear in my own way, and baring three
responsible endorsers, for the honor of shooting a coon. Gentlemen,"
he continued, "I move that that coon be permitted to take his own time
to descend from his perch up in the tree-top there;" and the motion
was carried unanimously.
CHAPTER XXVII.
WOULD I WERE A BOY AGAIN.
"We have played the boy again, yesterday and to-day, pretty well,"
remarked Smith, as we sat in front of oar tents in the evening,
smoking our pipes. "And I am half inclined to think we have started
for home too soon, after all. Spalding's moralizing for the last two
or three days deceived me. I thought, as he was becoming so serious,
he must be getting tired of the woods; but his proposition yesterday
to escort that deer to the shore, and frighten him almost to death,
his jolly humor with our young friends over the way, and the trick he
played on as in regard to the raccoon this evening, satisfies me that
he's got a good deal of the boy in him yet. We shall have to retreat
from the woods slower than I thought, to exhaust it."
"If the cares of business or the duties of life did not call us back
to civilization" said the Doctor, "I could almost spend the summer
among these lakes, only for the luxury of feeling like a boy again.
When I listen to the glad voices of the wild things around as, I can
almost wish myself one of them."
"That coon, for instance," interrupted Smith, "that came so near
getting shot by his chattering."
"I call the gentleman to order," said I; "the Doctor has the floor."
"I sometimes think that it is no great thing after all to be human;"
the Doctor continued, bowing his acknowledgments for my protecting his
right to the floor. "Mind is a great thing, but there is more of
sorrow, anxiety, and care clustering about it, than these wild things
we hear and see around us suffer through their instincts. Reason,
knowledge, wisdom, are great things. To stand at the head of created
matter, to be the noblest of all the works of God, the only created
thing wearing the image, and stamped with the patent of Diety, are
proud things to boast of. But great and glorious and proud as they
are, they have their balances of evil. They bring with them no
contentment, no repose, while they heap upon us boundless necessities
and limitless wants. We are hurried through life too rapidly for the
enjoyment of the present, and the good we see in prospect is never
attained. When we were boys we longed to be men, with the strength and
intellect of men; and now that we are men, with matured powers of body
and mind, true to our organic restlessness and discontent, we look
back with longing for the feelings and emotions of our boyhood. What a
glorious thing it would be if we could always be young--not boys
exactly, but at that stage of life when the physical powers are most
active, and the heart most buoyant. That, to my thinking, would be a
better arrangement than to grow old, even if we live on until we
stumble at last from mere infirmity into the grave, looking forward in
discontent one half of our lives, and backward in equal discontent
"You remind me," said Spalding, "of a little incident, simple in
itself, but which, at the time, made a deep impression upon my mind,
and which occurred but a few weeks ago. Returning from my usual walk,
one morning, my way lay through the Capitol Park. The trees, covered
with their young and fresh foliage, intertwined their arms lovingly
above the gravelled walks, forming a beautiful arch above, through
which the sun could scarcely look even in the splendor of his noon.
The birds sang merrily among the branches, and the odor of the leaves
and grass as the dews exhaled, gave a freshness almost of the forest
to the morning air. On the walk before me were two beautiful children,
a boy of six and a little girl of four. They were merry and happy as
the birds were, and with an arm of each around the waist of the other,
they went hopping and skipping up and down the walks, stopping now and
then to waltz, to swing round and round, and then darting away again
with their hop and skip, too full of hilarity, too instinct with
vitality, to be for a moment still. The flush of health was on their
cheeks, and the warm light of affection in their eyes. They were
confiding, affectionate, loving little children, and my heart warmed
towards them, as I saw them waltzing and dancing and skipping about
under the green foliage of the trees. "'Willy,' said the little girl,
as they sat down on the low railing of the grass plats, to breathe for
a moment, and listen to the chirrup and songs of the birds in the
boughs above them, 'Willy, wouldn't you like to be a little bird?'
"'A little bird, Lizzie,' replied her brother. 'Why should I like to
be a little bird?'
"'Oh, to fly around among the branches and the leaves upon the trees,'
said Lizzie, 'and among the blossoms when the morning is warm, and the
sun comes out bright and clear in the sky. Oh! they are so happy,'
"'But the mornings aint always warm, and the sun don't always come up
bright and clear in the sky, Lizzy,' said her brother, 'and the leaves
and blossoms aint always on the trees. The cold storms and the winter
come and kill the blossoms and scatter the leaves, and what would you
do then? I shouldn't like to be a bird, but I _should_ like to be a
big strong man like father.'
"'Please tell me what tune it is?' said the little boy, addressing me.
"I told him, and he turned to his little sister, saving, 'Come,
Lizzie, we must go; mother said we must be home by half-after seven,
and it's most that now;' and he put his arm lovingly around her neck,
and she put hers around his waist, and they walked away towards home,
talking about the leaves and the blossoms on the trees, the merry
little birds, the bright sunshine, and the pleasant time they had had
in the park that morning.
"It was a pleasant thing to see those two little children, so
confiding, so earnest and true in their young affections, clinging to
each other so closely, as if no shadow could ever come between them,
or tarn their hearts from each other. How natural was that simple
question put by that little girl to her brother, 'Wouldn't you like to
be a little bird?' It was the thought of a pure young mind, that sees
only the bright sunshine of to-day, whose life is in the present, and
to which there is no forebodings of darkness in the future. There was
philosophy, too, in the answer of her brother, a simple but suggestive
sermon, 'But the sun' said he, 'don't always come up bright and clear;
the mornings aint always warm; the leaves and blossoms aint always on
the trees. The cold storms, and the winter come and kill the blossoms
and scatter the leaves, and what would you do then?' To finite minds
like ours, it would seem to have been a more beautiful arrangement of
nature, could it have been, that we could always have the spring time
in its glory with us; if the leaves and the blossoms were always young
and fresh and fragrant; if the cold storms of winter could never come
to 'kill the blossoms and scatter the leaves;' if the sun would always
come up bright and clear; if the birds were always merry, and their
glad voices always on the air. This world would be a paradise then,
and one older and wiser in the learning of the schools, but not wiser
or better in the heart's affections, than that little girl, might well
wish to be a little bird, to fly around among the branches, the green
leaves, and the blossoms on the trees. And yet what presumption in
finite man to sit in judgment upon, or criticise the wisdom of the
Omnipotent God! How know we but that a single change, the slightest
alteration of a simple law, would go jarring through all the universe,
throwing everything into confusion, and bringing utter chaos, where
now all is order. The mother sees her little child die, she lays it in
its coffin, and surrenders it to the grave, and her heart rebels
against the Providence that snatched away her treasure. In her agony,
she appeals reproachfully to Heaven, and asks, 'Why am I thus
bereaved?' Foolish mother! impeach not the wisdom of your bereavement.
Mysterious as it may be, know this, that in the councils of eternity
your sorrows were considered, and the decree which took from you your
darling, was ordered in mercy. Pestilence sweeps over the land; a wail
is on the air. Peace, mourners, be still! The pestilence has a mission
of mercy, mysterious as it may be to us. The storm lashes the ocean
into fury; tall ships, freighted with human souls, go down into its
relentless depths; a shriek of agony comes gurgling up from the
devouring waters; a cry of woe is heard from a thousand homes over the
wrecked and the lost. Peace, again, mourners! The storm has a mission
of mercy. It may never be comprehended by us here, but when the veil
shall be lifted, as in God's good time it doubtless will be, we shall
see how the pestilence and the storm, that cost so many tears, were
essential to the harmony of a glorious system, a perfect plan, and
that seeming sorrow was at last the occasion of unspeakable joy. Let
no man say that this or that law, or operation of nature, were better
changed, until he can fathom the designs of God; till he can create a
planet, and send it on its everlasting round; till he can place a star
in the firmament; till he can breathe upon a statue, the workmanship
of his own hands, and be obeyed when he commands it to walk forth a
thing of life; till he can dip his hand into chaos and throw off
worlds. The 'cold storms of winter' are essential to the enjoyment of
the brightness and glory, the genial sunshine, the pleasant foliage,
the blossoms and the odors of spring. They have their uses, and chill
and dreary and desolate as they may be, they are parts of an
arrangement ordered by infinite goodness and omnipotent wisdom.
"'I should like to be a big strong man like father is!' How like a boy
was this? Thirsting for the strength, the might and power of manhood!
And this is the aspiration of the young heart always; to be mature,
strong to grapple with the cares, and wrestle with the stern
actualities of life. How little of these does childhood know! How
little does it calculate the chances, that when, in the long future,
it shall have attained the full strength and maturity of life, when
manhood shall be in the glory and strength of its prime, and it looks
forward into the dark cloud beyond, and backward into the bright
sunshine of the past, the aspiration, the hope will change into
regret, and the yearning of the heart, speaking from its silent
depths, will be, 'would I were a boy again!'"
CHAPTER XXVIII.
HEADED DOWN STREAM--RETURN TO TUPPER'S LAKE--THE CAMP ON THE ISLAND.
We started down stream again at six o'clock in the morning, intending,
if possible, to reach Tupper's Lake before encamping for the night. It
would make for us a busy day to accomplish so much; but going down
stream and down hill are very different things from going up, as any
gentleman may satisfy himself by rowing against a current of two miles
the hour, or toiling up an ascent of three or four hundred feet to the
mile, and then retracing his steps. We accomplished more than half the
distance, and that over the worst of the journey, by twelve o'clock,
and we halted for dinner and a _siesta_. If there is one thing in life
which can lay any claim to being considered a positive luxury, it is a
nap on a mossy bank, in the deep shadows of the forest trees, after a
hearty meal, of a warm summer day. There should be, in order to its
full appreciation, a mixture of weariness with a due proportion of
laziness. Too much of either detracts from the enjoyment of its
beatitudes. To _feel_ the sensation of resting, that weariness is
leaving you, and that the process of recuperation is an active, living
agency, going on all through the system, while the natural love of
repose is being gratified as an independent emotion, constitute the
very perfection of mere animal enjoyment. The musquitoes at midday
have gone to their rest, or if a straggler comes buzzing and singing
about your ears, you are lulled rather than disturbed by his song. If
he takes his drop of blood from your veins, the tickling of his tiny
lance is but a pleasant titilation, and you let him feed on, almost
grateful for his kindness in keeping you from sleeping too soundly, or
losing in utter oblivion the full extent of the luxury of
perfect repose.
After an hour's rest, we launched our little fleet upon the river
again, and while the sun was yet above the western highlands, we stood
upon the broad flat rock at the mouth of Bog River, looking out over
Tupper's Lake, one of the most beautiful sheets of water that the sun
or the stars ever looked upon. Our sea-biscuit was getting low, and
our egress from the wilderness was therefore becoming, in some sort, a
necessity. There was no lack of venison, or fish, but these are rather
luxuries than actual necessaries, and they were becoming somewhat
stale to as. The staff of life is bread, and of this we had but two
days' supply. It is entirely true that our jerked venison, now dry and
hard as chips, could, if necessary, be made to furnish, to some
extent, a substitute; still, while "it is written that man shall not
live by bread alone," it is equally the law that he cannot very well
get along without it.
We launched our boats upon the lake and rowed to the head of Long
Island, where we put up our tents for the night. I have spoken so
often of the loveliness of the evenings on these beautiful lakes, that
to attempt a description of the one we enjoyed on this romantic
island, would be only a tiresome repetition. But there was a splendor
about the heavens above, and their counterpart in the depths below,
which I have scarcely ever seen equalled. There was no moon in the
early evening, and so pure and clear was the atmosphere, so moveless
and still the waters, that the stars seemed to come out in vaster
numbers, and with an intenser glow, and to be reflected back from away
down in the lake with a brighter refulgence; the hills along the shore
seemed to stand up in bolder outline; the bays to lay in deeper
shadow; while the tall peaks stood in grim solemnity, like pillars
supporting the mighty arches of the sky.
"I was asking myself," said Smith, as we sat looking out over the
water, in the evening, or gazing down into the glowing depths, and
listening to the night voices, faint and far off in the old forests,
as they came floating over the lake, "I was asking myself, as we
journeyed around the falls to-day, and as we stood on the rock where
the river comes leaping down and plunging into the lake, whether the
march of improvement would ever spread a Lowell around those falls, or
subject those wild waters to the uses of civilization. Whether
progress would ever invade those mountain regions; or the ingenuity of
man ever discover uses for these rocks and boulders, or coin wealth
from the sterile and sandy soil of this old wilderness? Hitherto a
country like this has been regarded of no value, save for the timber
which it grows; and when that is exhausted, as fit only to be
abandoned to sterility and desolation. But who can tell whether there
may not be in these boulders, these rocks, this sandy and unproductive
soil, unknown wealth, held in reserve to reward the researches of
science in its utilitarian explorations. I am not now speaking of
gold, or silver, or any other dross, which men have hitherto wasted
their toil to accumulate; but of new discoveries, and new purposes to
which these now useless things may be applied; discoveries which may
send the tide of emigration surging up from the valleys to mountain
regions like these. May it not be that science, while delving among
the wrecks of vanished ages, may stumble upon some new principle, or
combination of the elements of which these old rocks are composed,
that shall give them a value beyond that of the richest lowlands, and
make them the centre of a dense and cultivated population?"
"Your question," answered Spalding, "is suggestive. Did you ever think
what gigantic strides the world has made within the memory of men now
living, and who are yet unwilling to be counted as old? Look back for
only fifty years, and note what a stupendous leap it has taken! Where
then were the iron roads over which the locomotive goes thundering on
its mission of civilization? where the telegraph, that mocks at time
and annihilates space? Hark! there is a new sound breaking the
stillness of midnight, and startling the mountain echoes from their
sleep of ages! It is the scream of the steam-whistle, the snort of the
iron horse, the thunder of his hoofs of steel, rushing forward with
the speed of the wind, shaking the ground like an earthquake as he
moves. A new motor has been harnessed into the service of man, and
made to fly with his messages swifter than sound? It is the winged
lightning; and as it flashes along the wires stretched from city to
city, and across continents, carries with unerring certainty every
word committed to its charge. Ocean steamers have made but a ferriage
of seas. The photographic art has made even the light of the sun a
substitute for the pencil of the artist. Everywhere, in all the
departments of science, in every branch of the arts, improvement,
progress, has been going on with a sublimity of achievement unknown in
any age of the past. These things are mighty motors which push along
civilization, throwing a wonderful energy into the forward impulse of
the world. But remember, that though these results are brought about
by the advance in the mechanic arts, yet that advance is based upon a
deeper philosophy, a profounder wisdom, than mere perfectability in
those arts. Take the steam-engine--it is a great contrivance, a
wonderful invention; but the greatest of all was the discovery of the
principle and operation, the practical phenomena of steam itself. The
telegraphic machine was a great invention; but the great thing was the
development of the science of electricity, the discovery of the
secret agency which sent forward the thought entrusted to it swifter
than light. The daguerrian instruments, the metallic plates, the
prepared paper, were great inventions; but vastly greater was the
discovery and development of the phenomena and affinities of light,
the mystery of solar influences.
"There is hope for the world in all this mighty progress, for with it
will one day come the development of the true nature and theory of
government, the true solution of the great theory of the social
compact, the proper adjustment of the relations of man to man, a right
appreciation of the nature and value of human rights. It is bringing
forward the masses, elevating the millions who work. It will rouse
into activity their innate energies, and bring forth their inward
might. It creates THOUGHT to guide the hands that set all this vast
machinery in motion. It diffuses and strengthens intellectuality, and
the pride of intellectuality, making of the men who work something
more than mere machines themselves. It is developing and perfecting a
mightier engine than any of man's invention; one that tyrants cannot
always control, that kings cannot always manage. That engine is the
human mind. Like the steam-engine, it is gathering power, and
capability for the exercise of power, and the time will come when it
will go crashing, with resistless energy, among thrones, overturning
despotisms, upheaving dynasties, sweeping away those false theories of
governmental institutions, which guarantee to one class of people a
life of luxurious idleness, coupled with a prerogative to rule; and
which dooms another class to an hereditary servitude, changeless as
fate, and relentless as the grave. It will vindicate the rights, and
ennoble the destiny of the masses of the people who work.
"But where is this career of progress to end? Is there a limit to this
onward movement? We know that the world has made greater advancement
in the present century, than it did in the five thousand years
preceding it, and that new discoveries in the sciences and the arts
are being made every day. Nature has been compelled, and is still
being compelled, to yield up secrets which have been for centuries
regarded as beyond the power of human capacity to penetrate. How is
this? Is the world to go on thus, always? Is this rush of progress to
remain unchecked, always? If so, what mystery, even of Omnipotent
wisdom, will remain unsolved at last? What results will not human
energy be able to accomplish? Is the time to come when man shall be
able to shape out of clay, fashion from wood, or stone, an image of
himself, and, breathing upon it, command it to walk forth a thing of
life, and be obeyed? Will he be able to search out a universal
antidote to disease? Will he discover the means of supplying the human
frame with such recuperative power as will nullify the law that
prescribes to all flesh the dilapidation and decay of age, of weakness
and of death? Will he search out some secret agency which will hold
his body in perpetual youth, defying alike the attritions of age, and
the ravages of disease? Will he discover how it is that time saps the
strength, and steals away the vigor of the human system, and a remedy
for exhausted and wasted energies? It is not my purpose to advance a
theory based upon an affirmative answer to these inquiries, but when
we contemplate the stupendous pace at which the world is moving
forward, who will venture to assert where the limit to this progress
is to be found? You tell me that man cannot _create_; that he can only
combine into new shapes elements which God has furnished to his hands.
I do not know this. That he _has_ not created I admit; but that he has
not capabilities, as yet undeveloped, as a creator, I do not KNOW. I
will not venture the assertion that the time will ever come when he
will have discovered wherein lies the mystery of life; that he will
ever find an antidote to disease; that he will search out some
recuperative agency stronger than the law of decay, and that will hold
the human system in the perpetual vigor, and bloom, and beauty of
maturity. I will not assert that science will, at last, be carried to
such perfection, that there shall be no more infirmities of age; that
the pestilence will be stayed from walking in the darkness, and
destruction from wasting at noonday; that men will cease to grow old,
save in years, or that death will be compelled to seek its victims
only through the channel of accidents, against which forecast will
not, and science has no opportunity to guard. What I mean to say is,
that I do not KNOW that just such results are beyond the capabilities
of human progress. Measuring the future by the past, I cannot
demonstrate that such results may not one day be attained."
"The good time of which you speak," said the Doctor, "when there shall
be no more infirmity of age, no growing old, save in years; when there
shall be no wasting by disease, through the perfectability of the
curative science, or the discovery of some recuperative agency,
stronger than the law of decay, will never come. When it is granted,
as an abstract proposition, that the capabilities of science are
sufficient to counteract the mere wasting influence of time upon the
human system, you are met by a great practical fact which will
overturn your theory. The excesses of the world are a much more
fruitful source of disease and death than the attritions of age. There
is a constant struggle on the part of nature to build up and beautify,
to strengthen and recuperate, against the results of human excesses.
Not one in a million of those who pass away every year, die from the
effects of age, as a primary cause. Hence, you must not only perfect
science, but you must perfect the morals and the habits of the human
family, before you can exempt them from decay and death. The instincts
of men, the appetencies which they possess in common with the whole
animal creation, are each made the source of disease, and premature
decay. Some men eat too much; some drink too much; some sleep too
much; some waste their vital energies in sensual indulgence, while all
have some vicious habit (I mean with reference to the preservation of
life), known or unknown to the world, which, sooner or later,
undermines the constitution, and helps on the work of dilapidation.
These excesses will always exist; they are inherent in the human
constitution, resulting from the very nature of man; they are an
inevitable sequence of his physical structure, and his intellectual
life. To avoid them implies absolute perfectability in every
attribute, and that makes him a god. Until man shall have become
infinite in wisdom, as well as immaculate in purity, he will continue
to indulge, to a greater or less extent, in excesses of some sort, and
those excesses will always be an overmatch, when superadded to the
natural law of decay, for the recuperative efforts of science. You
must create a radical reform in every department of life; in business,
in social habits, in the fashions, in the mode of living, in
everything, before you can hope to reach the Utopia of which you
speak. The outrages perpetrated upon nature by the conventionalities
of the world alone, would be an insurmountable barrier to the
realization of your idea. The necessity for excessive labor to satisfy
artificial wants hews away at one end of society, and the indulgence
of idleness and ease, at the other. Exposure to the elements, to heat
and cold, buries its millions; and too great seclusion, in pursuit of
comfort in heated rooms, and a confined and corrupted atmosphere,
buries its millions also. Lack of wholesome food fills thousands of
graves, and the results of abundance fill other thousands. Lack of
appropriate clothing, fitted for the constitution and the seasons,
engenders disease and death; and an excess of the same article,
fashioned as stupendous folly only can fashion it, engenders vastly
more disease and death. There are elements of decay and death
furnished to men and women, tempting their weakness, and forced upon
their adoption by the conventionalities of life, every day, every
hour, and everywhere. It is a part of our civilization, an offshoot of
the very progress of which you speak, a sort of necessity in practical
results, at least, that men _shall_ so live as to wage war against
nature, and against themselves; that they shall hurry themselves, or
be hurried by inevitable circumstances, into the grave at the earliest
possible moment. You may, therefore, dismiss from your mind, my
friend, the fanciful idea, that science will ever enable the world to
dispense with the cemeteries, or that the cities of the dead will,
through its agency, cease to flourish. You will find that as science
closes up one avenue to the grave, men will force a way to it through
another. We shall have to live as our fathers lived, be subject to
disease as they were, grow old as they grew old, and die as they died.
We must submit to the law which has written the doom of decay upon all
things, which has made us mortal, and when our time comes we must be
content to pass away as the countless millions who preceded us
"Well," said Spalding, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rose
to retire, under the cover of the tent, for the night, "be it as you
say, what matters it? 'I would not live always.' Give to us the hope
of an hereafter, a faith that looks through the valley of the shadow
of death, and sees immortality, a world of glory beyond, and what
matters it how soon the hour of our departure shall come?"
CHAPTER XXIX.
A MYSTERIOUS SOUND--TREED BY A MOOSE--ANGLING FOR A POWDER HORN--AN
UNHEEDED WARNING AND THE CONSEQUENCES.
As Spalding ceased speaking, there came from away off, over the forest
in the direction of the tall mountain peaks, a faint sound like the
boom of a cannon, so distant that it could scarcely be heard, and yet
it was distinct and palpable to the senses. I say that it came from
the direction of the mountains, seen dim and shadowy in the distance,
and yet none of us were quite sure of this. We all heard it, but not
one of us could assert that the direction from which it came was a
fixed fact in his mind.
"There, Judge" said Cullen, "I've hearn that sound often among the
mountains, and when I've been driftin' about on these lakes, it never
seems much louder or nearer. It always seems to come from the
mountains, and yet you'll hear it while shantyin' at their base, and
it sounds just as faint and far off as it did just now. What it is, or
where it comes from, I won't undertake to say. The old Ingins who,
five and twenty year ago, fished and hunted over these regions, told
of it as a thing to wonder at, and that it was handed along down from
generation to generation, as one of the mysteries of this wilderness.
I mind once I was out among the Adirondacks, trappin' martin and
sable. I shantied for a week with Crop, under the shadow of Mount
Marcy. It was twenty odd year ago, and that old mountain stood a good
deal further from a clearin' than it does now. Crop and I had a good
many hard days' work that trip; but we got a full pack of martin and
sable skins, and two or three wolf scalps, besides a bear and a
painter, and we didn't complain. Wal, one afternoon, we put up a
shanty in an open spot two miles from our regular campin' ground, and
built our fire for the night. There was no moon, and though the stars
shone out bright and clear, yet in the deep shadow of the forest it
was dark and gloomy enough. We had eaten our supper, and I was smokin'
my last pipe before layin' myself away, when all at once the forest
was lighted up like the day. It was all the more light from the sudden
glare which broke upon the darkness, and there, for an instant, stood
the old woods, lighted up like noon, every tree distinct, every
mountain, every rock, and valley, as perfect and plain to be seen as
if the sun was standin' right above us in the sky. Crop was as much
astonished as I was, and he crept to my feet and trembled like a
coward, as he crouched beside them. I looked up, and flyin' across the
heavens was a great ball of fire, lookin' for all the world as if the
sun had broke loose, and was runnin' away in a fright. A long trail of
light flashed and streamed along the sky where it passed. It was out
of sight in a moment, and the fiery tail it left behind faded into
darkness. A little while after, maybe ten minutes after it
disappeared, that boomin' sound came driftin' down the wind, and I
somehow tho't it was mixed up in some way with that great ball of fire
that flew across the sky. Maybe I was wrong, but I've always tho't it
was the bustin' into pieces of that fiery thing that lighted up the
old woods that night, that broke the forest stillness, like a far off
cannon. I never heard it so loud at any other time, and when I hear it
now, I always say to myself, there goes another of Nater's fireballs
into shivers. I've hearn it in the daytime, when the air was still,
and the forest voices were hushed, but I never at any other time, day
or night, saw what I suspicioned occasioned it. The Ingins used to say
it came from the mountains, but it don't. I've hearn some folks
pretend that it comes from the bowels of the airth, but it don't; its
a thing of the air, and I've a notion it travels a mighty long way
from its startin' place afore it reaches us.
"Talkin' about that trip among the Adirondacks, puts me in mind of an
adventer I had with a bull moose, on one occasion among them. There
are times when sich an animal is dangerous. I've hearn tell of
elephants gittin' crazy and breakin' loose from their keepers, or
killin' them, and makin' a general smash of whatever comes in their
way. I believe its so sometimes with a bull moose; and when the fit
is on the animal forgets its timid nater, and is bold and fierce as a
tiger. I've seen two sich in my day; one of 'em sent me into a tree,
and the other put me around a great hemlock a dozen or twenty times, a
good deal faster than I like to travel in a general way, and if I
hadn't hamstrung him with my huntin' knife, maybe he'd have been
chasin' me round that tree yet. Wal, as I was sayin' I was out among
the Adirondacks one fall, airly in November; I'd wounded a deer, and
sent Crop forward on his trail to overtake and secure him. It was a
big buck, with long horns, and Crop had a pretty good general idea of
what sich things meant. He was cautious about cultivatin' too close an
acquaintance with such an animal, unless something oncommon obligated
him to do so. I heard him bayin' a little way over a ridge layin' gist
beyond where I shot the buck. I warn't in any great hurry, for I knew
Crop would attend to his case, and I tho't I'd wipe out my rifle afore
I loaded it again. I was standin' by the upturned roots of a tall fir
tree that had been blown down, and in fallin' had lodged in a crotch
of a great birch, maybe twenty feet from the ground, and broke off. I
stepped onto the butt of the fallen spruce, and was takin' my time to
clean my gun, when I heard a crashin' among the brush on the other
side of the ridge, as if some mighty big animal was comin' my way. I
walked pretty quick along up the slopin' log till I was, maybe fifteen
feet from the ground, and I saw Crop comin' over the ridge, in what
the Doctor would call a high state of narvous excitement, with his
tail between his legs, lookin' back over his shoulder, and expressin'
his astonishment in a low, quick bark, at every jump, at something he
seemed to regard as mighty onpleasant on his trail. I didn't have to
wait long to find out what it was, for about the biggest bull moose I
ever happened to see, came crashin' like a steam-engine after him. He
wasn't more than two rods behind the dog, and if I ever saw an ugly
looking beast, that moose was the one. Every hair seemed to stand
towards his head, and if he wasn't in earnest I never saw an animal
that was. He was puttin' in his best jumps, and the way he hurried up
Crop's cakes was a thing to be astonished at. The dog didn't see me,
and seemed to be principled agin stoppin' to inquire my whereabouts.
He dashed under the log where I stood, and the moose after him like
mad. He seemed to be expectin' aid and comfort from me, as the papers
say, and was wonderin', no doubt, where me and my rifle was all this
time. I called after him, but he was in a hurry and couldn't stop, for
there was a thing he didn't care about shakin' hands with, not three
rods from his tail. He heard me, though, and took a circle round a
great boulder, and the moose after him, and as he got straightened my
way, I called him again, and he saw me. He leaped onto the log and
came runnin' up to where I stood, and was mighty glad to be out of the
way of them big hoofs and horns that were after him. He was safe now,
and he opened his mouth and let off a good deal of tall barkin' at his
enemy. The moose saw us, and his fury was the greater because he
couldn't get at us. He kept chargin' back and forth under the log we
were perched on, and if there wasn't malice in his eye, I wouldn't
"When I first saw him, I was standin' with the butt of my rifle on the
log, my hand graspin' the barrel, and as I caught it up suddenly to
load, the string of my powder-horn caught between the muzzle and the
ramrod, broke, and the horn fell to the ground. Here was a fix for a
hunter to be in. My rifle was empty, and every grain of powder I had
in the world was in the horn, fifteen feet below me, on the ground. To
go down after it was a thing I was principled agin undertaking
considerin' the circumstance of that bull moose with his great horns
and the onpleasant temper he seemed to be in. What to do I didn't
know. I hollered and shouted at the kritter, thinkin', maybe, that the
voice of a human might scare him; but it only made him madder, and
every time I hollered he charged under the log more furiously than
before. I threw my huntin' cap at him, but he pitched into it, and if
he didn't trample it into the ground, as if it was a human, you may
shoot me. After a while, he got tired of dashin' back and forth, under
the log, and took a stand two or three rods off, and as he eyed us,
shook his great horns and stamped with his big hoofs, as much as to
say, 'very well, gentlemen, I can wait, don't hurry yourselves, take
your time; but I shall stay here as long as you stay up there. And
when you do come down, we'll take a turn that won't be pleasant to
some of us.' Crop and I took the hint and sat still, thinkin' maybe
he'd get over his pet and move off; but he did'nt lean that way at
all. He seemed to've made up his mind to stay there as long as we
stayed on the log, be the same more or less. We'd sat there maybe an
hour, when I happened to think of a trollin' line and some fishhooks I
had in my pocket, and it came across me that possibly I might fish up
my powder horn. So tyin' half a dozen hooks to the end of my line, I
laid down on the log to angle for my powder-horn. When I laid down,
the old bull made a pass under the log, as if he expected me down
there, and charged back again, as if he was disappointed in not
runnin' agin me. But he saw 'twan't no use, and took his old stand
agin. I dropped down the grapnel, and after a great many failures, I
hooked into the string of the powder horn, and hoisted away. I hauled
it up mighty quick, for the old bull seemed to be suspicions that
something was goin' on that might have something to do with his futer
happiness, and when he got sight of it, the pass he made was a thing
to stand out of the way of. But he was too late; the powder-horn was
safe, and I notified him, as Squire Smith did the cats, to leave them
parts in just one minute by the clock. He did'nt pay any attention to
the warnin'. I loaded my rifle carefully, and while I was puttin' on
the cap, asked the gentleman if he calculated to move on, and let
peaceable people alone. He didn't condescend to answer a word, looking
for all the world like a tiger in savageness. 'Very well,' said I, as
I sighted him between the eyes, 'on your head be it,' and pulled. The
ball went crashin' through his skull into his brain, and he went down.
Crop knew what that meant. He didn't wait to run down the log, but
leaped to the ground, and had his teeth in the animal's throat before
the echoes of my rifle were done dancin' around among the mountains. I
loaded my gun before I came down, thinkin' maybe there might be
another bad tempered moose about, but there wasn't. Crop and I learned
what we ought to've know before, and that was that it's a safe thing
for a hunter to have an extra horn of powder in his pocket, and a
loaded rifle in his hand when a mad bull moose is on his trail, and
that a slantin' tree is a good thing to get onto at sich a time."
CHAPTER XXX.
GOOD-BYE--FLOATING DOWN THE RACKETT--A BLACK FOX--A TRICK UPON THE
MARTIN TRAPPERS AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
We rose with the dawn the next morning, and before the sun was above
the hills we were on our way down the lake, to separate as we struck
the Rackett; the Doctor and Smith to return by the way of Keeseville
and the Champlain, and Spalding and myself to drift down that pleasant
stream to Pottsdam, and thence to the majestic St. Lawrence, to spend
a fortnight among the "Thousand Islands" of that noble river. Near the
outlet of the lake is a bold rocky bluff, rising right up out of the
deep water twenty feet, against which the waves dash, and around which
a romantic bay steals away to hide itself in the old woods. This
beautiful bay is always calm, for even the narrow strait which
connects it with the open water is divided by a rocky, but wooded
island, shutting out alike the winds and the waves from disturbing its
repose. It is surrounded by gigantic forest trees, whose shadows make
it a cool retreat in the heat of noon, and whose dense foliage fills
the air with freshness and fragrance when the sun is hot in the sky.
Towards its head, a cold stream comes creeping around the boulders,
and dancing and singing down the rocks from a copious spring, a short
way back in the forest. Near where this brook enters we landed at
seven o'clock to breakfast. We supplied ourselves with fish by casting
across the mouth of the little stream, while our boatmen were
preparing a fire. Our sail of eight miles down the lake furnished us
with appetites which gave to the beautiful speckled trout we caught
there a peculiar relish. We arranged matters so that the Doctor and
Smith were to return in one boat to the Saranacs, while Spalding and
myself were to move on down the Rackett with the other two. Cullen and
Wood were to go with us to Pottsdam, from whence our route lay by
railroad to Ogdensburgh. We had, on entering the woods, dispatched our
baggage to the former place to await our arrival there. At nine
o'clock we launched out upon the lake again. There are two outlets
which enter the Rackett, half a mile apart, down the right hand one of
which the Doctor and Smith's course lay, and ours down the left. We
shook hands with our friends, and lay upon our oars while they passed
on towards home, wishing them a pleasant voyage, and a safe return.
"I say," shouted Smith, as they were about rounding a point that would
hide them from our view, "remember our compact about killing the bear.
The glory of that achievement belongs to me, you know. Don't say a
word about it when you get home till you see me. I haven't fully made
up my mind as to the manner of capturing him, and there must be no
contradictions on the subject."
"Go ahead," replied Spalding, "we'll be careful of your honor. Drop us
a line at Cape Vincent, when you've digested the matter, and we'll
stand by you. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" And our friends disappeared from our sight on their voyage
"And so," said Spalding, "we are to leave this beautiful lake, and
these old forests so soon. I could linger here a month still, enjoying
these shady and primitive solitudes. To you and I, the quiet which one
finds here is vastly more inviting than it is to the friends who have
just left us. The Doctor, of necessity, leads a life of activity,
feeling physical weariness as the result of his labors, but little of
that strong yearning for intellectual repose which those in your
profession or mine so often feel. Smith's life demands excitement. The
absence of the cares and toil of business occasions a restlessness and
desire of change, which makes him discontented here. With them the
great charm of this wild region is its novelty. They enjoy its
beauties for a season with peculiar relish, but as these become
familiar, the spell is broken, and they turn towards home without a
regret To you and I, there is something beyond this. We, too, feel and
appreciate the beauty of these lakes and mountains The hill-sides and
placid waters, the forest songs, and wild scenery are pleasant to us;
but we enjoy them the more from the intellectual relaxation, the
mental quiet and repose, which we find among them. We feel that we are
resting, that the process of recuperation, intellectual as well as
physical, is going on within us. We can almost trace its progress,
and we feel that the time spent by us here is full of profit as well
as pleasure. At all events, it is so with me, and if duty to others,
whose interests it is my business to serve, did not demand my return,
I could enjoy another month here with unabated pleasure."
"You have left me little," I replied, "to add to what you have already
said, in expressing the sources of my enjoyment among these beautiful
lakes. Fishing and hunting, considered in the abstract, are things I
care but little about. They are pleasant enough in their way, but what
brings me here is the strong desire as well as necessity for the
repose of which you speak. There is a luxury in intellectual rest,
when the brain is wearied with protracted toil, which far surpasses
the mere animal enjoyment which follows relaxation from physical
labor. That rest I cannot find in society. I must seek it among wild
and primeval solitudes, where I can be alone with nature in her
unadorned simplicity, away from the barbarisms, so to speak, of
civilization, where I can act and talk and think as a natural, and not
an artificial man, where I can be off my guard, and free from the
weight of that armor which the conventionalities of life, the captions
espionage of the world compels us to wear, un-tempted by the thousand
enticements which society everywhere presents to lure us
into unrest."
We drifted leisurely down the left hand channel, and entered the
Rackett, bidding good-bye to the beautiful lake as a bend in the river
hid it from our view. A mile below the junction, the river runs square
against a precipice some sixty feet in height, wheeling off at a right
angle, and stretching away though a natural meadow on either hand, of
hundreds of acres in extent. At the base of this precipice, formed by
the rocky point of a hill, the water is of unknown depth. Above, and
fifty feet from the surface of the river, there are ledges of a foot
or two in width, like shelves, along which the fox, the fisher, and
possibly the panther, creep, instead of travelling over the high ridge
extending back into the forest. As we rounded a point which brought us
in view of this precipice, Spalding, who was in the forward boat,
discovered a black object making its way along the face of the rocks.
A signal for silence was given, and the boats were permitted to float
with the current in the direction of the precipice. We were forty rods
distant, and the animal, whatever it was, had no suspicion of danger.
It paused midway across the rocks, looked about, nosing out over the
water, and sat down upon its haunches, as if enjoying the beauty of
the scenery around it. In the meantime, the boats had drifted within
twenty rods, and Spalding, taking deliberate aim, fired. At the crack
of the rifle, the animal leapt dear of the ledge, struck once against
the face of the rock some twenty feet below, and then went, end over
end, thirty feet into the river. As he struck the water he commenced
swimming round and round in a circle, evidently bewildered by
Spalding's bullet, or the effect of his involuntary plunge down the
rocks. Our men bent to their oars, and had got within five or six rods
of it, when it straightened up in alarm for the shore.
"Hold on, Cullen," said I, "lay steady for a moment." I drew upon the
animal, and just as it reached the shore, fired, and it turned over
dead. We found it to be a black fox, that had walked out upon the
ledge, and thus been added another victim to the indulgence of an idle
curiosity. Spalding's bullet had grazed its belly, raking off the hair
and graining the skin; mine had gone through its head.
"There, Judge," said Cullen, as he lifted the animal into the boat,
"is a kritter that isn't often met with in these parts, and the wonder
is, that he didn't discover us as we floated down the stream. He's
about the cunningest animal that travels the woods. He's got an eye
that's always open, a delicate ear, and a sharp nose, and he keeps 'em
busy, as a general thing. He never neglects their warnin', but puts
out about the quickest, whenever they notify him that there's an enemy
about. I've had a good deal of trouble with them in my day, when I've
been out trappin' martin. They'll manage to spring the trap and carry
off the bait. When one of them chaps gets on a line of traps, there's
no use in talkin'. The game's up, and the trapper may make up his mind
to get rid of the varmint in some way, or locate in another range of
country. He'll find his traps sprung and his bait gone. Or if a martin
has been in ahead of the fox, he'll find only the skull, the end of
the tail, the feet, and a few of the larger bones, and they'll be
picked mighty clean at that. You've seen a martin trap, or if you
haven't, I'll try and describe one so that you'll understand it. It's
a very simple contrivance, and if a martin was not a good deal more
stupid than a goose, he'd never be caught in one of them. We drive
down a couple of rows of little stakes, plantin' the stakes close
together, and leaving between the rows a space of six or eight inches.
The rows are may be a foot and a half long. We then cut and trim a
long saplin', say five or six inches across at the butt, and leaving
one end on the ground, set the other, may be two feet high, with a
kind of figure four, so that when it falls, it will come down between
the rows of stakes. We fix the bait so that a martin in getting at it,
will have to go in between the rows of stakes, and displace the trap
sticks, when down comes the pole upon him and crushes him to death. We
talk about a _line_ of traps, because we blaze a line of trees,
sometimes for miles, and set a trap every twenty or thirty rods. I've
had a line of a dozen miles or more, in my day, in a circle around my
campin' ground. In minding our traps, we follow the line of marked
trees from one to the other, and so never miss a trap, nor get lost in
"I mind once, a good many years ago, Crop and I was over towards the
St. Regis, on a cruise after martin and sable, and anything else in
the way of game we could pick up. I'd laid out my trappin'
arrangements on a pretty large scale, and was doin' a little better
than midlin', when I found that my traps were sprung by some animal
that helped himself to the bait, without leavin' his hide as a
consideration for settin' of 'em. After a few days, I found that
whatever it was, understood the line as well as I did, for he took the
range regular, and not only stole the bait, but ate up half a dozen
martin, that had given me a claim on their hides by springin' my
traps. This was a kind of medlin' with my private concerns that I
didn't like, and I was bound to find out who the interloper was, and
if possible, to make his acquaintance. There was no snow on the
ground, and I couldn't get at his track. So I made up my mind to watch
for him. Well, one day I spoke to Crop to stay by the shanty and take
care of the things, while I went to find out who it was that was
medlin' with our property, and started off on my line of traps. I got
up into the crotch of a great birch near one of 'em, and sat there
with my rifle, waitin' for something to turn up. It was a little after
noon when I got located. The sun travelled slowly along down towards
the western hills, his bright light, in that calm November day, makin'
the rocky ranges and the bare heads of the tall peaks shine out in a
blaze of glory. The livin' things of the old woods were busy and jolly
enough. An old owl came flying lazily out of the thick branches of a
hemlock, and lightin' within a dozen feet of me, opened his great
round eyes in astonishment, and as the bright sunlight dazzled him, he
squinted and turned his cat-like face from side to side, as if makin'
up his mind that he'd know me the next time we met. By-and-by he
opened his hooked beak, and great red mouth, and roared out, 'Hoo!
hohoo! hoo!' as much as to say, 'who the devil are you?' I didn't
answer a word, and after a little, he flew back to his shadowy perch
among the dense foliage of the hemlock. A black squirrel came hopping
along with his mouth full of beech nuts, and running nimbly up the
tree on which I was perched, and out upon one of the great limbs,
deposited his store in a hollow he found there. He caught sight of me
as he came back, and seating himself upon a branch, not six feet from
my head, began chatterin' and barkin' as if givin' me a regular lecter
for invadin' his premises, and takin' possession of his tree. He
didn't seem to understand the matter at all, and I didn't undertake to
explain the reason of my being there. After a little, he went off
about his business, and left me to attend to mine. A raccoon came
nosing along, stoppin' every little way to turn over the leaves, or
pull away the dirt from a root with his long hands, tastin' of one
thing and smellin' of another in a mighty dainty way. When he came to
my tree, he seemed to think that there might be something among its
branches worth looking at. So he came clambering up its rough bark
towards where I sat. He came up on the other side of the tree from me,
till he got about even with my huntin'-cap, and then came round to my
side, and there we were, face to face, not two feet apart. I reckon
that coon was astonished when our eyes met, for with a sort of scream
he let right loose, and dropped twenty feet to the ground like a clod,
and the way he waddled away into the brash, mutterin' and talkin' to
himself, was a thing to laugh at.
"The sun was, may be, an hour high, when lookin' along the line of
marked trees, I saw a black animal come trotting mighty softly towards
the trap I was watchin'. I knew him at once. He was a black fox, and I
knew that he was the gentleman that had been makin' free with my
property for the last few days. He trotted up to the trap, and walked
carefully around it, nosin' out towards the bait, but keepin' out from
under the pole. He seemed to understand what that pole meant, and that
if it fell on him, he'd be very likely to be hurt. After a little, he
trotted out to the other end of the pole, and gettin' on to it, walked
carefully along to within ten or twelve feet of the bait; if he didn't
begin jumpin' up and down till he sprung the trap, you may shoot me.
When he'd done that job, he went back, and gettin' hold of the bait
with his teeth, drew it out and began very cooly to eat it. By this
time I'd brought my rifle to bear upon the gentleman, but I gave him a
little law, to see what his next move would be. After he'd finished
the bait, and found there warn't any more to be come at, he stretched
himself on his belly along the ground, and began lickin' his paws, and
passing them over his cheeks, as you've seen a cat do. After he'd
washed his face awhile, he sat himself down on his haunches, curled
his long bushy tail around his feet, and looked about as if
considerin' what he should do next. Just then I paid my respects to
him, and as my rifle broke the stillness of the forest, he turned a
double summerset, and after kickin' around a little, laid still. I
came down from my perch, and took the gentleman to the shanty and
added his hide to those of the martins I'd taken. My traps warn't
disturbed after that, and I carried home a pack of furs that bro't me
near two hundred dollars."
CHAPTER XXXI.
OUT OF THE WOODS--THE THOUSAND ISLANDS--CAPE VINCENT--BASS FISHING
HOME--A SEARCHER AFTER TRUTH--AN INTERRUPTION--FINIS.
We floated quietly down the Rackett, carrying our boats around the
falls, shooting like an arrow down the rapids, or gliding along under
the shadows of the gigantic forest trees that line the long, calm
reaches of that beautiful river. We shook hands and parted with our
boatmen at the pleasant village of Pottsdam, where we arrived the
second evening after leaving Tupper's Lake. We found our baggage, and
it was a pleasant thing to change our long beards for shaved faces,
and our forest costume for the garniture of the outer man after the
fashion of civilization. We took the cars for Ogdensburgh, and the
next morning found us steaming up the majestic St. Lawrence, towards
that paradise of fishermen, the Thousand Islands. We stopped a couple
of days at Alexandria Bay, and passed on to Cape Vincent, a beautiful
village situated a mile or two below where the river takes its
departure from the broad lake beyond. This pleasant little town is
built upon a wide sweep of tableland, overlooking the river in front,
and the open lake on the west. It is accessible both by the lake and
river, having two or three arrivals' and departures of steamboats each
way daily, and being the terminus of the Rome and Watertown Railroad,
the great thoroughfare between Kingston and the central portion of the
Tipper Provinces and the States. It is a delightful place in the hot
summer months, with a climate unequalled for healthfulness, a cool
breeze always fanning it from the water, and in the vicinity the best
bass fishing to be found on this continent.
Opposite, and just below the town, is Carlton Island, on which stand
the ruins of an old French fortification, the walls and trenches and
the solitary chimneys, from which the wooden barracks have rotted or
been burned away, remain as melancholy testimonials of the bloody
strifes between the red men of the forest, and the pioneers of
civilization who were driving them from the hunting grounds of
their fathers.
The black bass of the St. Lawrence and Ontario, are the "gamest" fish
that swim, and they are nowhere found in such abundance as in the
neighborhood of Cape Vincent. On the outer edge of the bar, near the
head of Carlton Island, we caught between seventy and eighty in one
afternoon, weighing from three to five pounds each, every one of which
fought like a hero, diving with a plunge for the bottom, skiving with
a rush down, across, or up the river; leaping clear from the water
and shaking his head furiously, to throw the hook loose from his jaw,
before surrendering to his fate. In Wilson's Bay, a sweet place, three
miles from the village by water, or one and a half by land, we caught
as many more on another afternoon. We took a sail-boat and glided
round Lighthouse Point (a pleasant drive of two miles from the
village), out into the lake, and steered for Grenadier Island, five
miles distant, on which we tented for the night, and the bass we
brought home the next day were something worth looking at. Near the
upper end of Long Island are other prolific bass shoals, where the
fisherman may enjoy himself. Indeed, he can scarcely go amiss in the
surrounding waters.
The black bass of the St. Lawrence are not only game fish, but are, in
excellence of flavor, scarcely excelled by any fish of this country.
Baked or boiled, they have few superiors, and as a pan fish, are
excelled only by the brook-trout of the streams. The season for taking
them commences in July; and continues through September. August is the
best month in the year for the bass fishermen. If, during that month,
he will supply himself with a strong bass-pole, a strong treble-action
reel, stout silk lines, and proper hooks, and visit Gape Vincent, he
will find boatmen with a supply of minnows, ready to serve him; and if
he fails to enjoy himself for a fortnight among the black bass of the
St Lawrence and Ontario, he may count himself as a man who is very
hard to please.
We spent a pleasant week at Cape Vincent, and then turned our faces
homeward, invigorated in strength and buoyant in spirits, to begin
again a round of toil, from which we, at least, could claim no further
"H----," said a friend of mine, as he stalked into my sanctum, a few
days after my return, and seated himself at my elbow, as if for a
private and confidential talk, "did Smith really shoot the bear, the
skin of which he brought home, and which he exhibits with such
triumph. Tell me, honestly, as between you and me, did he in fact
"Smith certainly did shoot that bear," I replied.
"But is the marvellous story he tells about the manner of killing him
really true?"
"That, of course, I cannot tell," I replied, "as I have never heard
"Why," said my friend, "he tells about a beautiful lake, lying away
back in the northern wilderness, above which Mount Marcy, and Mount
Seward, and other nameless peaks of the Adirondacks, rear their tall
heads to the clouds, throwing back the sunlight in a blaze of glory;
on which the moonbeams lie like a mantle of silver, while away down in
its fathomless depths the stars glow and sparkle, like the sheen of a
million of diamonds. Of the old forests and trees of fabulous growth,
stretching away and away on every hand, throwing their sombre shadows
far out over the water, in whose tangled recesses countless deer and
moose, and panthers, and bears range, and among whose branches birds
of unknown melody carol. That one side of this beautiful lake is
palisadoed by a wall of rocks, stand straight up sixty feet high, near
the top of which is a shelf or narrow pathway, along which two men can
scarcely walk abreast. That he was passing along this pathway one
afternoon, examining the rocks, and looking for geological specimens.
Below him was a precipice of fifty feet, against the base of which the
waves, when the winds swept over the lake, dashed. Around him the
birds that build their nests in the crevices of the rock were whirling
and screaming, while before him lay the beautiful lake, motionless and
calm, as if it had fallen asleep and was slumbering sweetly in its
forest bed. That he was passing leisurely along with his rifle at a
trail, admiring the transcendent loveliness of the scenery around him,
where the rugged and the sublime, the placid and the beautiful, were
so magnificently mingled, when, in turning a sharp angle, a huge bear"
"Copy!" shouted the printer's devil, as he came plunging down three
steps at a bound from the compositors' room above. "Copy!" he
screamed, as he dove into the outer office where that article was
usually kept, but found none.
"Mr. H.," said he, as he opened my door so gently, with a voice so
quiet, and a look so innocent, that one might well be excused for
believing that he had never spoken a loud word in his life, "Mr. H----,
the foreman desired me to ask you for some copy."
"You see, my friend," said I to the anxious inquirer after truth,
"that I am exceedingly busy just now. You will excuse me, therefore,
for referring you to the Doctor and Spalding, who know all about the
matter. Good day." And my friend departed without finishing the story
Smith told him about his killing the bear. I have never heard the
balance of that story yet.
And now, Reader, a word to you, and I have done. When the sun comes
up over the city, day after day, pouring his burning rays along the
glimmering streets, shining on and on in a changeless glare, till he
hides himself in the darkness again; when your strength wilts under the
enervating influences of the summer heats, and you pant for the forest
breezes and the "cooling streams," remember that the same wild region
I have been describing, the same pleasant rivers, beautiful lakes, tall
mountains, and primeval forests are there still, all inviting you to test
their recuperative agencies. The same singing birds, the fishes and the
game are there waiting your pleasure. Visit them when the summer heat
makes the cities a desolation. Give a month to the enjoyment of a
wilderness-life, and you will return to your labors invigorated in
strength, buoyant in spirit--a wiser, healthier, and a better man.
THE EULOGIES OF HOWARD.
    ----to tell of deeds
    Above heroic. MILTON.
THE EULOGIES OF HOWARD
It was my chance to be conversing with a Friend of the benevolent and
indefatigable HOWARD, when our country was first afflicted with the
public intelligence of his death. After our first expression of surprize
and sorrow, we naturally fell into serious and affectionate reflections
on the gentle character and sublime pursuits of the deceased. On these
articles we had no difference of opinion; but in the course of our
conversation a point arose, on which our sentiments were directly
opposite, though we were equally sincere and ardent in our regret and
veneration for the departed Worthy, to whom it related. I happened to
speak of the public honours that, I hoped, a grateful, a generous, a
magnificent Nation would render to his memory. My companion immediately
exclaimed, "that every ostentatious memorial, to commemorate the virtues
of his friend, would be inconsistent with the meekness and simplicity of
the man; that all, who had the happiness of knowing HOWARD, must
recollect with what genuine modesty he had ever retired from the
enthusiastic admiration of those, who had hoped to gratify his ambition
by undeserved applause; that he had really sought no reward but in the
approbation of his conscience and his GOD; that the British Nation,
however eminent for genius and munificence, could not devise any
posthumous honours, or raise any monument, truly worthy of HOWARD,
except in adopting and accomplishing those benevolent projects which his
philanthropy and experience had recommended to public attention for the
benefit of mankind."
I readily admitted the singular and unquestionable modesty of the
deceased.--I allowed that the noblest tribute of respect, which the
world could render to so pure a spirit, would be to realize his ideas;
but I contended, that other honours are still due to his name; that it
is the duty and the interest of mankind to commemorate his character
with the fondest veneration. I reminded my companion, that although we
were sincerely convinced that no human mind, engaged in great designs,
could be more truly modest than that of HOWARD; yet we had particular
reason to recollect, that he was not insensible to praise. He had once
imparted to us his feelings on that subject with a frank and tender
simplicity, highly graceful in an upright and magnanimous being,
conscious of no sentiment that he could wish to conceal. Indeed, a
sincere and ardent passion for virtue could hardly subsist with a
disdain of true glory, which is nothing more than the proper testimony
of intelligent and honed admiration to the existence of merit: nor is it
reasonable to suppose that the fondest expressions of remembrance from a
world, which he has served and enlightened, can be displeasing to the
spirit of "a just man made perfect;" since we are taught by Religion,
that the gratitude of mankind is acceptable even to GOD. I endeavoured
to convince my companion, that, as the Publick had seen in HOWARD a
person who reflected more genuine honour on our country than any of her
Philosophers, her Poets, her Orators, her Heroes, or Divines, it is
incumbent on the Nation to consult her own glory by commemorating, in
the fullest manner, his beneficent exertions, and by establishing the
dignity of his unrivaled virtue.
My arguments, and my zeal, made some impression on the mind of my
antagonist; and sunk so deeply into my own, that on my retiring to rest
they gave rise to the following vision.
I was suddenly transported to the confines of a region, which astonished
me by its loveliness and extent; it was called, The Paradise of true
Glory. As I approached the entrance, my eyes were delightfully
fascinated by two beings of human form, who presided over the portal.
Their names were Genius and Sensibility:--it was their office to gratify
with a view of this Paradise every mortal that revered them sincerely;
and to reject only such intruders as presumed to treat either the one or
the other with the insolence of disdain, or the coldness of contempt: an
incident that I should have thought impossible, from the transcendent
beauty which is visible in each; but, to my surprize, they informed me
it very frequently happened.
As I readily paid them the unsuspected homage of my soul, I was
graciously permitted to pass the gate.--Immediately as I entered, I was
saluted with a seraphic smile, by two benignant and inseparable Spirits:
these were Gratitude and Admiration, the joint rulers of the
dominion--"You are welcome," said the first, in a tone of angelic
tenderness--"You are welcome to a scene utterly new to your senses, and
in harmony with your heart: you delight in the praises of the deserving:
and you are now wafted to a spot, where those who have merited highly of
mankind are praised in proportion to their desert, and where the praise
of exalted merit is fondly listened to by an extensive human audience,
here purified by our supernatural agency from all the low and little
jealousies of the earth."
I had hardly answered this pleasing information by a grateful obeisance
to my radiant informer, when I perceived, in a gorgeous prospect that
now opened before us, three structures of stupendous size and superior
magnificence. The first was situated in a grove of olives, and appeared
to me like an ancient temple of Attica, remarkable for massive strength,
and a sober dignity--the second was less solid, but richer in
decoration; and seemed to be almost surrounded by every tree and plant
on which Nature has bestowed any salutary virtue: the third was shaded
only by palms; the form of it was so wonderfully grand and aweful, that
it struck me as a sanctuary for every pure and devout spirit from all
the nations of the globe.
"These structures, that you survey with astonishment," said one of my
benevolent conductors, "are devoted to what you mortals denominate the
three liberal professions, Law, Medicine, and Theology. Whoever has a
claim to distinguished honour from any one of the three, has a just
encomium pronounced upon his services by the temporary President of that
particular fabrick, in which he is entitled to such grateful
remembrance." "Alas!" I replied, with a murmur that I could not
suppress, "the Man whose well-deserved praises I most anxiously expected
to hear in this region, belonged not to any one of these eminent classes
in human life--he had no profession but that of Humanity."
"Be patient," said the sweetest of my aetherial guides, with a rebuke
that was softened by a smile of indulgence! "Let not your zeal for the
honour of an individual, however meritorious, make you unjust, or
insensible, to the merit of others! Assume the temper of this region,
where praise is distributed by equity and affection, but where prejudice
and partiality are not allowed to intrude!--Let us advance," continued
my monitor, with an encouraging movement of her hand; "it is time that I
should lead you to the nearest assembly."
I obeyed with reverential silence; and as I passed the vestibule of the
majestic edifice, my heart panted with an aweful expectation of
beholding the shades of Solon, Lycurgus, and other departed Legislators,
from the various nations of the world. I was chearfully surprized by a
very different spectacle.
The capacious structure was filled with a concourse of living mortals,
lively, yet respectable in their appearance, evidently belonging to
many countries; but all, as I perceived by their habits, connected with
the Law. Throughout all the multitude I heard no sound of dissention or
debate: but over all there reigned an air of intelligence and sympathy,
while all were hushed in silent expectance, and eager attention, with
their eyes directed to an elevated tribunal:--On this a personage was
sitting, whose majestic figure I immediately recollected. His
countenance is marked with that austerity and grandeur, which are the
external characteristicks of Law herself. His heart, as those who know
it ultimately declare, expresses the tender and beneficent influence of
that Power, who is the acknowledged parent of security and comfort. With
a voice that pervaded the most distant recesses of the extensive dome,
and in tones that sunk deep into the bosom of every auditor, he
pronounced the following oration:
"After passing many years of life in the painful investigation of human
offences, it is with peculiar satisfaction that I find myself
commissioned to commemorate, in this Assembly, a character of virtue
without example--a character, at once so meek and so sublime, that, if a
feeling spirit had been poisoned with misanthropy from too close a
contemplation of mortal crimes, this character alone might serve as an
antidote to the word of mental distempers, and awaken the most callous
and sarcastic mind to confess the dignity of our Nature, and the
beneficence of our God. In stating to you the merits of HOWARD, I might
expatiate with delight on the various qualities of this incomparable
man; I might trace his progress through the different periods of a life
always singular and always instructive. I could not be checked by any
fear of overstepping the modesty of Truth in the celebration of Virtue,
so solid and so extensive, that the malevolence of Envy could not
diminish its weight, the fondness of Enthusiasm could not amplify its
effects. But I must not forget that there are professional limits to my
discourse. It is incumbent on me to confine myself to a single object,
and to dwell only on those public services, that peculiarly endear the
name of Howard to the liberal and enlightened community in which I have
the honour to preside.
"It was in the capacity of a Minister to Justice, that the pure spirit,
whom it is my glory to praise, first conceived the idea of those
unrivaled labours that have rendered his memory a treasure to mankind.
In discharging a temporary office, that exposed to him the condition of
criminals, he was led to meditate on the evils which had grievously
contaminated the operations of Justice. He perceived that Law herself,
like one of her most illustrious Delegates (I mean the immortal Bacon),
was grossly injured by the secret and sordid enormities of her menial
servants: that Captivity and Coercion, those necessary supporters of her
power, instead of producing good, often gave birth to mischiefs more
flagrant, and more fatal, than those which they were employed to
correct. He found, even in the prisons of his own humane and enlightened
country, an accumulation of the most hideous abuses: he found them not
nurseries of penitence and amendment, but schools of vice and impiety;
or dens of filth, famine, and disease: not the seats of just and
salutary correction and punishment, but the strong holds of cruelty and
extortion. The irons of the prisoner, which he only beheld, entered into
his soul, and awakened unextinguishable energy in a spirit, of which
companion and fortitude were the divine characteristicks. In the noble
emotions of pity for the oppressed, and of zeal for the honour and
interest of civilized society, he conceived perhaps the sublimest design
that ever occupied and exalted the mind of man, the design to search and
to purify the polluted stream of Penal Justice, not only throughout his
own country, but through the various nations of the world. How low, how
little, are the grandest enterprizes of Heroic Ambition, when compared
with this magnanimous pursuit! How frivolous and vain are the highest
aims of Fancy and Science, when contrasted with a purpose so
beneficently great! But, marvellous as the magnitude of HOWARD'S
enterprise appears, on the slightest view that magnitude becomes doubly
striking, when we contemplate at the same time the many circumstances
that might either allure or deter him from the prosecution of his idea.
Consider him as a private gentleman, possessed of ease and independence,
accustomed to employ and amuse his mind in retired study and
philosophical speculation; arrived at that period of life, when the
springs of activity and enterprize in the human frame have begun to
lose their force! consider that his health, even in youth, had appeared
unequal to common fatigue! his stature low! his deportment humble! his
voice almost effeminate! Such was the wonderful being, who relinquished
the retirement, the tranquillity, the comforts, that he loved and
enjoyed, to embark in labours at which the most hardy might tremble; to
plunge in perils from which the most resolute might recede without a
diminution of honour. Under all these apparent disadvantages,
unsummoned, unauthorized by any Prince, unexcited by any popular
invitation, he resolved to investigate all the abuses of imprisonment;
to visit the abodes of wretchedness and infection; and to prove himself
the friend of the friendless, in every country that the limits of his
advanced life would allow him to examine. Against such an enterprize,
projected by such an individual, what forcible arguments might be urged,
not only by every selfish passion, but even by that prudence, and that
reason, which are allowed to regulate an elevated mind! How plausibly
did Friendship exclaim to Howard, 'Your projects are unquestionably
noble; but they are above the execution of any individual: you are
unarmed with authority; you have the wish to do great good, but the
power of doing little! Consider the probable issue of the
undertaking!--You will see a few hapless wretches, and tell their
condition to the inattentive world; perhaps perish yourself from
contagion, before you have time to tell it; and leave your afflicted
friends to lament your untimely fate, and the ungrateful Publick to
deride your temerity!' What force of intellect, what dignity of soul
were required to prevent a mortal from yielding to remonstrances so
engaging! The divine energy of Genius and of Virtue enabled HOWARD to
foresee, that the sanctity of his pursuit would supply him with strength
and powers far superior to all human authority:--His piercing mind
comprehended that there are enormities of such a nature, that to survey
and to reveal them is to effect their correction.--He felt that his
sincere compassion for the oppressed, and his ardent desire to promote
perfect justice, would serve him as a perpetual antidote against the
poison of fear.--He felt that in the darkness of dungeons he should want
no associates, no guards to defend him against the outrages of detected
extortion, or suspicious brutality.--He felt, that as his purpose was
heavenly, the powers of Heaven would be displayed in his support; that
iniquity and oppression would not dare to lift a hand against him,
though they knew it was the business of his life to annihilate their
sway in their most secret dominion. How admirably did the progress of
his travels evince and justify the pure and enlightened confidence of
his spirit! All dangers, all difficulties, vanish before his gentleness,
his regularity, his perseverance. Insolence and ferocity seem to turn,
at his approach, into docility and respect. Every hardship he endures,
every step he advances, in his wide and laborious career of Beneficence,
instead of impairing his strength, invigorates his frame; instead of
diminishing his influence, increases the utility of his conduct, by
making the world acquainted with the sanctity of his character. Witness,
ye various regions of the earth! with what surprize, delight, and
veneration, ye beheld an unarmed, and unassuming traveller instructing
you in the sublime science of mitigating human misery, and giving you a
matchless example of tenderness and magnanimity! O, England! thou
generous country! ever enamoured of glory, contemplate in this, the most
perfect of thy illustrious sons; contemplate those virtues, and that
honour, in which thy parental spirit may most happily exult!--What
spectacle can be more flattering to thy native, thy honest pride, than
to behold the proudest potentates of distant nations listening with
pleasure to a private Englishman; and learning, from his researches, how
to relieve the most injured of their subjects! how to abolish the
enormities of perverted Justice! To form a complete account of the good
arising to the world from the life and labours of Howard, would be a
task beyond the limits of any human mind: an exact statement of the
benefits he has conferred upon society, could be rendered only by the
attendant Spirit whom Providence commissioned to watch over him, and who
might discern, by the powers of supernatural vision, what pregnant
sources of public calamity he crushed in the seed, and what future
virtues, in various individuals, he may draw into the service of mankind
by the attraction of his example.
"Of good, more immediately visible, which his exertions produced, there
is abundant evidence in his own country. In the wide circle of his
foreign excursion, what nation, what city, does not bear some
conspicuous traces of his intrepid and indefatigable beneficence! Of the
astonishing length to which his zeal and perseverance extended, we have
the most ingenuous and satisfactory narration in those singularly
meritorious volumes which he has given to the world. In these we behold
the minute detail of labours to which there is nothing similar, or
second, in the history of public virtue; and for which there could be no
adequate reward but in the beatitude of Heaven. An eloquent Enthusiast,
whose genius was nearly allied to frenzy, has expressed a desire to
present himself before the tribunal of the Almighty Judge, with a
volume in his hand, in which he had recorded his own thoughts and
actions: if such an idea could be suitable to the littleness of man, if
it could become any mortal of faculties so limited to make such an
offering to the great Fountain of all intelligence, that mortal must
assuredly be Howard: for where could we find another individual, not
professedly inspired, who might present to his Maker a record of labours
so eminently directed by Piety and Virtue! a book, addressed to mankind,
without insulting their weakness, or flattering their passions! a book,
whose great object was to benefit the world, without seeking from it any
kind of reward! a book, in which the genuine modesty of the Writer is
equal to his unexampled beneficence! The mind of Howard was singularly
and sublimely free from the common and dangerous passion for applause:
that passion which, though taken altogether, it is certainly beneficial
to the interests of mankind, yet frequently communicates inquietude and
unsteadiness to the pursuits of Genius and Virtue. As human praise was
never the object of his ambition, so he has nobly soared above it. There
appear, in different ages upon the Earth, certain elevated spirits, who,
by the sublimity of their conceptions, and the magnanimity of their
conduct, attain a degree of glory which can never be reached by the
keenest followers of Fame--They seek not panegyricks; and panegyricks
can add nothing to their honour. The Eulogies have perished which were
devoted by the luxuriant genius of Tully, and by the laconic spirit of
Brutus, to the public virtue of Cato; yet the name of that illustrious
Roman is still powerful in the world, and excites in every cultivated
mind, an animating idea of independent integrity. The name of Howard has
superior force, and a happier effect. It is a sound, at which the
strings of humanity will vibrate with exultation in many millions of
hearts. Through the various nations that he visited, the mere echo of
his name will be sufficient to awaken that noblest sensibility, which at
once softens and elevates the soul. Every warm hearted and worthy
individual who mentions Howard will glow with an honest, a generous
satisfaction, in feeling himself the fellow-creature of such a man.
Wherever the elegant arts are established, they will contend in raising
memorials to his honour. Indeed, the globe itself may be considered as
his Mausoleum; and the inhabitants of every prison it contains, as
groups of living statues that commemorate his virtue. There is no class
of mankind by whom his memory ought not to be cherished, because all are
interested in those evils (so pernicious to society! so dangerous to
life!) which he was ever labouring to lessen or exterminate. It might be
wished, that different communities should separately devise some
different tribute of respect to him whose character and conduct is so
interesting to all: not for the sake of multiplying vain and useless
offerings to the dead, but to impress with more energy and extent his
ennobling remembrance on the heart and soul of the living. It is hardly
possible to present too frequently to the human mind the image of a man
who lived only to do good. I mean not merely such a resemblance of his
form as Art may execute with materials almost as perishable as the image
of human clay, but such an impression of his soul as may have a more
lasting influence on the life and conduct of his admirers, such as,
diffusing among them a portion of his spirit, may in some measure
perpetuate his existence.
"By this community, I am confident, such public honours will be paid to
HOWARD, as may be most suitable to the peculiar interest which it
becomes us to take in his glory. What these honours shall be is a point
to be settled by this liberal and enlightened Assembly, which assuredly
will not fail to remember that he suggested to Legal Authority her
omissions and defects with the modest and endearing tenderness of a
Friend; that he laboured in the service of Justice with that
intelligence, fortitude, and zeal, which her votaries cannot too warmly
admire, or too gratefully acknowledge."
The President arose as he thus ended his speech; and the members of the
Assembly seemed beginning to confer among themselves; but what debates
ensued, or what measure was adopted, I am unable to tell, as my
visionary Guides immediately hurried me to the adjoining Temple.
This second structure, though less extensive and less solid than the
first, was more attractive to the eye, as it abounded with scientifical
and diversified decorations. The Assembly consisted of men, who appeared
to me equally remarkable for keenness of intellect and elegance of
manners. The seat of pre eminence among them was filled by a person who
possessed in a very uncommon degree these two valuable qualities, so
happily conducive to medical utility and medical distinction. Though
left a young orphan, without patrimony, and obliged to struggle with
early disadvantages, he raised himself by meritorious exertion to the
head of a profession in which opulence is generally the just attendant
on knowledge and reputation. But neither opulence, nor his long
intercourse with sickness and death, have hardened the native tenderness
of his heart; and I had lately known him shed tears of regret on the
untimely fate of an amiable patient, whom his consummate skill and
attention were unable to save.
Thus strongly prepossessed in his favour, I was delighted to observe
that he was preparing to address the Assembly in the moment we entered.
My celestial Guides smiled on each other in perceiving my satisfaction;
and being placed by them instantaneously in a commodious situation, I
heard the following discourse; which the character I have described
delivered with an ease and refined acuteness peculiar to himself, never
raising his voice above the pitch of polite and spirited conversation:
"I am persuaded, that every individual to whom I have now the happiness
of speaking, will readily agree with me in this sentiment, that we
cannot possibly do ourselves more honour as a Fraternity than by
considering HOWARD as an Associate: assuredly, there is no class of men
who may more justly presume to cherish his name and character with a
fraternal affection. In proportion as we are accustomed to contemplate,
to pity, and to counteract, the sufferings of Nature, the more are we
enabled and inclined to estimate, to love, and to revere, a being so
compassionate and beneficent. If Physicians are, what I once heard them
called by a lively friend, the Soldiers of Humanity, engaged in a
perpetual, and too often, alas! unsuccessful conflict against the
enemies of life; HOWARD is not only entitled to high rank in our corps,
but he is the very Caesar of this hard, this perilous, and, let me add,
this most honourable warfare. Perhaps the ambition of the great Roman
Commander, insatiate and sanguinary as it was, did not contribute more
to the torment and destruction of the human race, than the charity of
the English Philanthropist has contributed to its relief and
preservation. Of this we are very certain, the splendid and
indefatigable Hero of Slaughter and Vain-glory did not traverse a more
extensive field, nor expose himself more courageously to personal
danger, than our meek and unostentatious Hero of Medical Benevolence. In
point of true magnanimity, I apprehend the spirit of Caesar would very
willingly confess, that his own celebrated attempts to reduce Gaul and
Britain were low and little achievements, when compared to the
unexampled efforts by which Howard endeavoured to exterminate or subdue
(those enemies more terrific) the Gaol Fever, and the Plague.
"But leaving it to more able and eloquent panegyrists to celebrate the
originality, the boldness, and all the various merit of his
philanthropic exertions, I shall confine myself to a few remarks, and
chiefly professional ones, on his invaluable character. It appears to me
highly worthy of observation, that Howard, before he entered on his
grand projects of Public Benevolence, was subject to those little, but
depressive variations of health which have betrayed many a
valetudinarian into habits of inaction and inutility. Happily for
himself, and for mankind, this excellent person surmounted a
constitutional bias to indolence and retirement. The consequence
sequence was, he became a singular example of activity and vigour. His
powers, and enjoyments of bodily and mental health, augmented in
proportion to the extensive utility of his pursuits.
"Beneficial as his life has been to the world, his memory may be still
more so. It may prove a perpetual blessing to mankind, if it dissipates,
as it ought to do, a weak and common prejudice, which often operates as
a palsy upon the first idea of a great and generous undertaking. The
prejudice I mean is a hasty persuasion, frequently found in the most
amiable minds, that some peculiar strength of nerve, some rare mechanism
of frame, and extraordinary assemblage of mental powers, are absolutely
requisite for the execution of any noble design. How greatly does it
redound to the true glory of Howard to have given in his successful
labours the fullest refutation of a prejudice, so inimical to the
interest and the honour of human-nature! a prejudice, by whose
influence, to use the words of our great Poet,
    "--The native hue of Resolution
    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of Fear,
    And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
    With this regard, their currents turn awry
    And lose the name of action."
"The life and character of Howard, if they are justly considered, may
not only annihilate this pernicious prejudice, but tend to establish an
opposite and consolatory truth. His example may shew us, that some
degrees of bodily weakness and mental depression may be most happily
cured by active exertion in the service of mankind. Perhaps there never
existed a more striking proof how far a noble impulse, communicated to
the mind by a project of extensive Benevolence, may invigorate a frame
not equal in health, strength, and stature, to the common standard of
men. It is a prudential maxim of the celebrated Raleigh, that 'Whosoever
will live altogether out of himself, and study other men's humours,
shall never be unfortunate;' a maxim, which the example of Howard might
almost teach us to convert into a medical aphorism by saying, 'Whosoever
will live altogether out of himself, and consult other men's wants, and
calamities, shall never be unhealthy.' It is delightful to those, who
detest the debasing tenets of a selfish philosophy, to see the happy
influence of opposite ideas; to observe (what Physicians have frequent
opportunities of observing), that as a selfish turn of mind often
attracts and encreases the malignity of sickness, so an unselfish, a
compassionate spirit has a natural tendency to escape or subdue it. What
can be more pleasing to those, who assert and esteem the dignity of
human-nature, than to see, that the having lost all thoughts of self,
and having acted in direct opposition to selfish principles, has
promoted even the personal advantage of a generous individual? From such
a series of philanthropic labour and peril, as a selfish and timid mind
might esteem it frenzy to encounter, Howard derived not only his
unrivalled and immortal reputation, but the perfect restoration of
enfeebled health; not to mention those high gratifications of the heart
and conscience, which are superior to all the enjoyments both of health
and glory. With such temperance in diet, that his daily food would
appear to most people not sufficient to support the common functions of
life, he chearfully sustained the hardships of long travel, through
regions where travelling is most difficult and dangerous. With a figure,
voice, and deportment, that seemed to preclude him from all personal
influence and authority; and with no mental acquisitions, except those
which are common to every cultivated mind, he secured to himself not
only universal admiration, but, I may venture to say, the just and moral
idolatry of the world. So invigorating are projects of extensive
Beneficence! so powerful is the energy of Public Virtue!
"Never, indeed, was the astonishing influence of plain and simple
goodness more strikingly displayed, than in the deference and respect
which this private and meek individual received, not only from foreign
and imperious Rulers of the Earth, but from hardened and atrocious
wretches, on whom Justice herself could hardly make any mental
impression, though armed with all the splendour, and all the violence of
power. Two particular examples of the influence I am speaking of, I
shall mention here, not only as honourable to the prime object of our
regard, but as they may suggest to contemplative minds some useful
ideas, by shewing how far the mere weight of an upright and benevolent
character alone may give to the most callous nerves a trembling
sensibility, and awaken the most ferocious spirit to self-correction.
"When our indefatigable Visitor of prisons was in Russia, he beheld, in
public, the punishment of the knoot severely administered by a strong
and stern executioner.
"On the following day he waited on this man, to request from him various
information. The executioner attended him obsequiously; but this
athletic savage, though trained to acts of cruelty, and conscious he had
a legal sanction for the barbarous violence he had exerted, could not
behold without shuddering the meek and gentle Missionary of Compassion.
"The second and more memorable example of his singular influence
occurred in a prison of his own country, and relates to an outrageous
female delinquent. A corrupt and ferocious woman is, perhaps, the most
intractable fiend that human benevolence can attempt to reform; but even
this difficulty the mild and powerful character of HOWARD
accomplished.
"In one of our Western gaols, he found an unhappy female loaded with
heavy irons: on his appearance she entreated him to obtain for her the
removal of these galling fetters. Upon enquiry, he found that many
endeavours had been made to keep this turbulent offender in proper
subjection without the severity of chains; but, after repeated promises
of amendment on milder treatment, she had obliged the keeper to have
recourse to this extreme by relapsing into the most flagrant and
insufferable contempt of decency and order. Upon this information,
HOWARD said mildly to the unhappy criminal, 'I wish to relieve you, but
you put it out of my power; for I should lose all the little credit I
have, if I exerted it for offenders so hardened and so turbulent.' 'I
know,' replied the intractable delinquent, 'I know that I have a proud
and rebellious spirit; but if I give a promise to so good a man as you
are, I can and I will command it.' On this firm assurance of
reformation, the benevolent HOWARD became a kind of surety for her
future peaceable conduct on the removal of her irons; and he had the
inexpressible delight to find, on his next visit to the prisoners of
this gaol, that the outrageous and ungovernable culprit, for whom he had
ventured to answer, was become the most orderly among them.
"I could wish, for the moral interest of mankind, that it were possible
to obtain a minute account of the services rendered to the calamitous
spirit of many a forsaken individual by the singular charity of HOWARD.
What could be more instructive than to observe how his Beneficence
encreased by its exertion and success; while his desire of befriending
the wretched became, as it were, the vital spirit that gave strength and
duration to his own existence!
"If we contemplate with pleasure the singular re-establishment of bodily
health, which HOWARD derived from his active philanthropy; it may be
still more pleasing to recollect, that it also afforded him an
efficacious medicine for an afflicted mind. Perhaps it was to shew the
full efficacy of this virtue in all its lustre, that Heaven allotted to
this excellent personage a domestic calamity, which appears (to borrow
an expression from a great writer) 'of an unconscionable size to human
"That capricious and detestable spirit of Detraction, which on Earth
never fails to persecute superior Virtue, has not scrupled to assert
that the affliction, to which I allude, was the mere consequence of
paternal austerity. The Earth itself, though frequently accused of being
eager to receive ideas that may abase the eminent, could hardly admit a
calumny so groundless and irrational. In this purer spot it is utterly
needless to prove the innocence of an exalted being, to whom we are only
solicitous to pay that sincere tribute of praise and veneration which we
are conscious he deserves. In truth, this admirable Character seemed to
illustrate the philosophical maxim, that mildness is the proper
companion of true magnanimity. He had a gentleness of manners, that was
peculiar to himself; and, instead of possessing such imperious severity
of spirit as might produce the calamity I allude to, he was really
endued with such native tenderness of heart as must have sunk under it,
had he not found in the unexampled services that he rendered to the
world, an antidote to the poison of domestic infelicity. It is among the
most gracious ordinances of Providence, that man is sure to find the
most powerful relief for his own particular afflictions, in his
endeavours to alleviate the sufferings of others. And permit me to add,
it is this beneficent law of our nature, that gives a peculiar charm
and dignity to the Medical Profession; a profession singularly endeared
to the affectionate HOWARD! not only as its compassionate and active
spirit was the guide of his pursuits, but as one of its prime ornaments
was his favourite associate and his bosom-friend. If different classes
of men are to vie with each other, as it may certainly become them to
do, in rendering various honours to this their matchless Benefactor; I
hope we shall display, with the most affectionate spirit, the deep
interest that we ought to take in his glory. I think it very desirable
that every Physician should possess a Medal of HOWARD, not only to shew
his veneration for the great Philanthropist, but to derive personal
advantage from such a mental Amulet, if I may hazard the expression.
Most of us, in the exercise of Medicine, feel at particular moments that
our spirits are too sensibly affected by the objects we survey; that
scenes of misery and infection depress and alarm: at such a time how
might it rekindle the energy of our minds to contemplate a little effigy
of HOWARD! to recollect, that all the trouble and danger that we
encounter, in the practice of a lucrative profession, are trifling in
the extreme, when compared to the labour and the peril, which this
wonderful man most willingly took upon himself, without looking forward
to any reward but the approbation of Heaven!
"I mention not a Medal as a new idea--it has been already in
contemplation; and a motto for it suggested, which applies with such
singular force and propriety to the person whom it is designed to
commemorate, that perhaps the wide range of classical literature could
not afford another passage so strikingly apposite to a character so
extraordinary--
    "Stupuere patres tentamina tanta,
    Conatusque tuos: pro te Reus ipse timebat."--
"I must confess, however, that I wish for another, which may seem to
bind him more closely to us in a medical point of view. But it is time
to leave the different members of our Fraternity at full liberty to
propose any marks of distinction that they wish to suggest.--It is
sufficient for me to have reminded you of a truth, which I am confident
we all equally feel, that, while we justly consider ourselves as
students in the extensive school of Humanity, it becomes us to look up
to HOWARD, with a laudable veneration, as the Prince and Patron of our
On the conclusion of this discourse, my Guides immediately conducted me,
with their former celerity and kindness, to the only remaining
Structure. It was the most extensive, and, from the hallowed majesty of
its appearance, the most admirable of the three. In approaching it, I
paused a moment in aweful surprise at the solemnity of the fabrick: the
most lovely and communicative of my two aetherial conductors smiled upon
me, and said, "You will find here Ministers of GOD from every Christian
country; but only those who consider Evangelical Charity as the essence
of true Religion, and who are disposed to honour, in the favourite
object of your veneration, the most signal example of that virtue, which
the present age has beheld." "I hope then," I eagerly replied, "I shall
have the delight of hearing, on this occasion, the most eloquent of our
English Bishops." On this exclamation, my kind informer regarded me with
that lively and soothing air with which intelligent Benevolence corrects
mistaken simplicity, and thus continued to instruct me with united
vivacity and tenderness.
"Earthly distinctions, you know, are of little moment in the sight of
Heaven. You will hear no Prelate; and perhaps you may feel surprised and
indignant, when you observe how very few of your Mitred Countrymen are
to be seen in this Assembly; but you will not retain in this hallowed
spot that most common of human infirmities, a tendency to censure or to
suspicion. You will recollect that this Convocation contains only those
charitable men, who are peculiarly disposed to honour your recent model
of this Christian virtue. Other good men may exist, who, from motives of
innocent mistake, or of mere inadvertency, may fail to exhibit that
animated regard to his exemplary character, which assuredly it has
merited from all men, and which the Ministers of Religion may most
properly display.
"One of these," continued my Director, "you are now going to hear; not,
indeed, a Dignitary of your Church, yet a Divine of Talents, Learning,
and Charity. He was led, by a laudable warmth of heart, to suggest to
your Country the first idea of paying a public tribute of veneration to
the signal virtue of Howard; and has acquired from this circumstance a
title to commemorate here the merit, to which he was eager to render
such early justice on earth. But it is time for us to attend him."
We immediately entered the temple; and I beheld an Ecclesiastic rising
at that moment to address a very numerous Assembly of his order, that
seemed to contain Christians of every sect, and Ministers of every
degree. The person preparing to speak was distinguished by a majestic
comeliness of person, though he appeared to have passed the middle age
of life; and with a powerful elocution he delivered the following
"The Righteous are bold as a Lion."
Proverbs, chap, xxviii, ver. i.
"In these few words, my brethren, we have a passage of Scripture, that
served as a favourite maxim, or leading truth, to the admirable
personage whose glorious qualities it is now both my duty and my delight
to recall to your remembrance. The words, indeed, are so consonant to
that exalted spirit which his life displayed, that they almost appear to
me an epitome of his character. Let us consider Courage as one of his
principal endowments! To contemplate so pure and resolute a being in
this point of view, may lead us to form just ideas on the true nature of
this primary virtue, on the sacred source from whence it should proceed,
and the sublime end to which it should aspire. How large a portion of
folly, vice, and wickedness, have arisen from mere mistakes concerning
this most important of human qualities! so important, that the real
dignity of man can only rise in proportion as this virtue is perfectly
understood, and properly cherished! In the same proportion, let me add,
our courageous Philanthropist will be found entitled to the praise of
every upright mind, to the homage of every feeling heart.
"If we take the word Courage" in the most common and simple sense of
that term, as a generous and noble contempt of personal hardship and
danger; who has given more numerous or more striking examples of such
brave contempt! Or if we follow the definition of Courage given us by a
profound, an eloquent, and philanthropic Writer, namely, that it is a
just estimate of our own powers; who is there among the most signal
Benefactors of mankind, not professedly inspired, that ever formed an
estimate of what he might achieve in the most glorious field of
enterprize, at once so difficult, and so true, so humble, and so grand.
"With every apparent disadvantage, Howard conceived it possible that his
endeavours might correct the abuses, and mitigate the sufferings of men,
in various nations of the world. Whence happened it, that a mortal, so
visibly weak and gentle, shrunk not from an idea so pregnant with
difficulty and peril! It was because, 'The Righteous are bold as a
Lion.' It was because he felt the strongest internal conviction of this
animating truth, that, while Heaven blesses a man with health sufficient
to pursue a benevolent and magnanimous design, the vigour of his mind,
and most probably his powers of doing good, will be proportioned to the
firmness of his faith, and the sincerity of his virtue.
"Many achievements of beneficent Courage have undoubtedly been
accomplished by men influenced by no motive but that generous love of
glory which is so frequently the predominant passion of an active and
ardent mind: but the virtues that arise from this source are as
unsteady, and as precarious, as the reward they pursue. He who acts
only as a candidate for the applause of mankind, will find his spirit
vary with all the variations in the ever-changing atmosphere of popular
opinion. He will be subject to hot and cold fits of action and
inactivity, of confidence and distrust, in proportion as the illusive
vapour, that he follows, may either sparkle or fade before him. Hence
proceeded much of that inconsistency and weakness, which appear in some
of the most enlightened, and exalted characters of the Pagan
world.--Wanting a purer light from Heaven, the most radiant spirits of
antiquity were bewildered; one in particular, the mildest and most
undaunted of antient Worthies, who had a sufficient portion of heroic
philanthropy to prefer the benefit of mankind to every selfish
consideration, had yet his hours of diffidence and despondency. On a
final review of his own generous labours, he is supposed to have
questioned the very existence of Virtue, though he had made it the idol
of his life; a striking proof, that the temperate and invariable energy
of soul, which alone perhaps deserves the name of true Courage, can only
proceed from a fuller knowledge and love of GOD; from the animating
assurance, that, however we may prosper or fail in the earthly success
of our endeavours to do good, the merit of the attempt is registered in
Heaven; and we secure to ourselves the everlasting approbation of our
Almighty Parent, in proportion as we approach towards that blessed model
of Perfect Benevolence, who has taught us, by his divine example, to
compassionate and to relieve the sufferings of the wretched. From this
source flowed the courageous beneficence of HOWARD: and how delightful
it is to observe that the force, the extent, the utility, and the lustre
of the stream, has gloriously corresponded to the height and purity of
the fountain!
"The Sensualist and the Sceptic may, indeed, deride the conduct of a
man, who sacrificed all the common pleasures of life, and sought for no
recompence but in the favour of Heaven. It may be said that an illusive
fervor of mind has hurried men, in all periods of the world, into
singular and wild exertions, which excite the wonder of the passing
hour, and are afterwards either deservedly forgotten, or only recalled
to notice by Reason and Philosophy, to caution the restless and
impetuous spirit of man against all similar excesses.
"But the pursuits of Howard, though they had all that sublime energy
which so often distinguished the projects of Superstition, were so far
from being influenced by any superstitious propensity, that perhaps they
cannot appear to more advantage than by being brought into comparison,
or contrast, not with the sluggish piety of sequestered Monks, but with
the bold and splendid feats of the most active and enterprising
Fanaticism. Allow me, therefore, to recall to your thoughts those
distant ages, when every ardent spirit in Christendom was inflamed with
a passionate desire to deliver the Christian pilgrims of Palestine from
the oppression of Infidels! Figure to yourselves the whole force of
Europe collecting its violence, like a troubled sea, and preparing to
pour a terrific and destructive inundation over the Holy Land! Behold
the strong and the weak, the ambitious and the humble, pursuing the same
object! Behold assembled Kings and their People, Soldiers and Priests,
the servants of Earth and Heaven rushing, with equal ardour, to rescue
the Sepulchre of Christ, and to drown all the innumerable enemies of
their Faith in an universal deluge of blood! In this scene we have the
sublimest spectacle, perhaps, that was ever exhibited by mistaken piety
and misguided valour. The love of God, by which this heroic multitude
was professedly impelled, was probably in many minds as sincere as it
was ardent. The religious spirit of their enterprize can still animate
and transport us in the song of the Poet: and in the more rational page
of History, while we justly lament the errors of their devotion, we
admire the force and perseverance of their courage.
"To the sublime fortitude of these collected warriors, let us compare
the mild magnanimity of HOWARD. Let us survey him setting forth for an
expedition as perilous as theirs; not as the Soldier of Fanaticism, but
as the Pilgrim of Humanity! Attachment to GOD, and resolution which no
hardship, no danger, no difficulty can daunt, are equally conspicuous in
the sanguinary Fanatic and the compassionate Philanthropist: but how
widely different are the prime earthly objects of their pursuits! The
fierce Crusaders invaded Asia with a desire to exterminate the Infidels.
The benevolent HOWARD was led into the same quarter of the globe, and
into perils more deadly than those of war, by a wish to exterminate, or
rather to restrain, the ravages of that terrific enemy to human life,
"He had conceived an idea, that, as this most alarming of mortal
maladies has been often strangely neglected by the sluggish and
superstitious inhabitants of the East, it might be possible by a calm
and courageous examination of its nature and its progress, to set limits
to its rage; and particularly to secure his own country from a future
visitation of a calamity, against which the fearless and eager spirit of
Commerce appears not to have established a sufficient precaution. For
the prospect of accomplishing public good, so devoutly to be wished, he
nobly thought it a trifling sacrifice to hazard the little remnant of
his advanced life; and, however men or nations may differ in policy or
religion, whereever there is a human spirit sufficiently pure and
enlightened to estimate public virtue, the sentiments and the conduct of
HOWARD must secure to his memory the fondest veneration. There is a
perfection and felicity in his character that appears supremely laudable
in every point of view. If, abstracted from all religious
considerations, we regard him only as a citizen who devoted himself to
the service of his country, the brightest records of Antiquity afford us
no parallel to his merit. Had he lived in those early times, the
generous enthusiasm of the antient world would have idolized his name.
Philosophy and Genius would have found, in his benevolent labours, the
most ample theme for instruction, and the purest subject for universal
panegyrick. They would have celebrated him as a benefactor to mankind,
who had built a new portico to the Temple of Glory superior to the dome
itself. They would have preferred the beneficent Philanthropist to the
dazzling Conqueror, to the fascinating Demagogue, to the attractive
Sophist; and all the various idols of public praise. But as Antiquity
exhibits no character of such unclouded lustre, we have great reason to
conclude, that such a character could owe its existence only to the pure
and sublime spirit of our Christian Faith. Let us, therefore,
contemplate HOWARD as a Christian! it is by considering him in this
light, that we shall feel ourselves most happily related to his virtues,
and most delightfully interested in the honours they receive.
"In the poor and calamitous objects of his regard, in the gentleness
and purity of his manners, in his modest and magnanimous refusal of
earthly honours, in the wide extent and courageous perseverance of his
charity, we cannot fail to discern how richly he was endowed with the
genuine spirit of that pure and sublime Religion which has the divine
prerogative of converting weakness into strength, and of giving to
Humility the influence of Power. There is not a feature in the
character, there is hardly an action in the life of this exemplary
personage, that does not mark him as a true servant of CHRIST. And may
we not presume the blessed Author of our faith, in supplying us in these
dissolute times with a recent example of such astonishing and unlimited
beneficence, is graciously pleased to afford us a new motive to prize
and to cherish that animating faith, which could form, in an age like
the present, a character so wonderfully entitled to the veneration of
the world? The spirit of Christianity is so visible in the conduct of
HOWARD, that the prime objects of his attention might be thought to have
been suggested to him by the very words in which our blessed Lord
announces to the heirs of eternal glory the source of their
beatitude--'Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared
for you from the foundation of the world; for I was an hungry, and ye
gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and
ye took me in; naked, and ye cloathed me; I was sick, and ye visited me;
I was in prison, and ye came unto me.'
"Is it possible for us, my Brethren, to recall to our memory these holy
words without feeling at the same time, in the most forcible degree, all
the Christian merits of HOWARD? Can we fail to admire and to venerate
the unexampled ardour, purity, and perseverance, with which he exercised
the peculiar virtue so distinguished by our Lord?--While we behold him
sublimely pre-eminent in this Christian perfection, shall we not cherish
the delightful idea, that his heavenly rewards will be finally adequate
to his unrivaled labours on earth? Shall not those who have loved him
exult in the persuasion, that in that great and aweful day, when the
living and the dead are to receive their everlasting doom; when the
princes and the great ones of the earth may be confronted with those
whom they have persecuted and oppressed, or whom they have failed to
relieve; when the proudest Sons of Learning, Genius, or Wit, may shrink
at the superior lustre of those whom they have ridiculed and reviled;
HOWARD will shine encircled by thousands, who will gratefully plead for
his beatitude in those blessed words of our Redeemer, 'I was in prison,
and he came unto me!'
"Yes, my Brethren, the day will assuredly come, when the servant so
signally faithful will be called to a reward, surpassing the utmost
reach of our conception, by the voice of his Righteous Master--then, and
then only, will praise be fully proportioned to his transcendant merit;
when this consummate Christian is raised to glory by the glorified
Messiah, when his pure spirit exults in the commendation of his GOD.
"The imperfect efforts, that mankind may make to do honour to such a
Being, cannot, indeed, so much promote his glory, as they may conduce to
the interest of human nature. Subject as it has been to the wildest
excesses, human panegyric, in all its shapes, may be safely devoted to a
personage, whom it is hardly possible to praise with sincerity, without
feeling our disposition improved. In a beneficent, a sublime, and truly
religious character, there is a sort of magnetic virtue, which to those
who are affectionately drawn towards it, though only in idea,
communicates a portion of itself. Hence arises, what we cannot too
fondly cherish, the delight and the utility of commemorating departed
worth. If its title to commemoration be justly proportioned to its
magnitude, its singularity, and extent; not only various individuals,
but different Nations, will become rivals in promoting the fame of
HOWARD. As the glorious qualities, which his life displayed, are equally
open to the emulation of the great and the humble; every class of human
creatures is peculiarly interested in his praise. If to honour his
memory may be thought to belong to any one community more than to
another; surely, my Brethren, we shall not fail to assume to ourselves
so pleasing a duty, so honourable a distinction. Well, indeed, might the
insulting enemies of our Faith reproach us with a supine and disgraceful
inattention to the real interest of Virtue, and the true glory of
Religion, could we suffer any other order of men to surpass the
Ministers of CHRIST in a meritorious zeal to honour this faithful
servant of Heaven, whose life exhibits a lesson more instructive and
sublime than all the eloquence of the Pulpit! a Christian, who has shewn
us, in the most signal manner, how practicable it is to follow, in
succouring the distrest, not only the precepts, but the example of our
In the moment that this benevolent Divine concluded his address to his
attentive brethren, my kind and vigilant Guides removed me from the
temple.--I was now led into a scene entirely different from those we
left. It was an open and verdant plain, with a few elevations in the
ground, that afforded advantageous views of the whole extensive spot.
Here, instead of beholding the Ministers of Peace, I found myself
encircled by the multitudinous votaries of War. It appeared to me that
all the military and all the naval servants of our country were
collected together, and each different division of these well-appointed
and well-looking men, that formed a pleasing spectacle alone, was
attended by a crowd of miscellaneous spectators, more numerous than
itself: yet in all this immense multitude there was no sign of tumult or
confusion. They were ranged in such a manner as to form a wide circular
area in the midst of them. I was stationed on a little eminence within
this area; and in the same vacant space I beheld a party of veteran
Commanders, both Military and Naval, who seemed to have been conferring
together, but separated by the direction of my aetherial Conductors, to
address, in different parts of this extensive field, the different
companies assigned to their care. What they respectively said in their
separate departments I was unable to discover, as I only heard
distinctly one gallant Veteran, whose character was particularly dear to
me. This consummate officer has raised himself by merit alone from the
humblest rank of military life to a station of the highest honour and
trust. His modesty is as singular as his fortune: passing close to me,
with a gracious salutation, he approached a very fine orderly corps of
foot, who looked up to him with a sort of filial respect, while he spoke
to them the few following words:
"As bravery and compassion are the characteristics of good Soldiers, you
cannot want, my friends, any long exhortation from me to honour the
memory of HOWARD; the most resolute and the most compassionate man that
has lived in our time. Though he was not of our profession, as his life
was devoted to mitigate the united horrors of captivity and sickness,
those worst of enemies to the spirit of a soldier, you will undoubtedly
feel that he has a peculiar claim to our most grateful and generous
This speech was followed by a burst of acclamation from those to whom it
was particularly addressed. Similar shouts of applause resounded from
different quarters of the spacious field, while our aetherial
attendants, Gratitude and Admiration, who followed each speaker at the
close of each address to different divisions of this innumerable
assembly, displayed, to each division in its turn, an extensive sketch
of a simple but magnificent mausoleum to the memory of Howard, in the
form of an English lazaretto. On the first display of this striking and
worthy monument, the applauding multitude seemed to exult in the
prospect of its completion. But I soon observed, to my inexpressible
concern, that while Gratitude and Admiration were busy in exciting the
various ranks of the vast assembly, to accomplish this favourite design,
they were followed by two earthy fiends of a dark and malignant
influence: these were Detraction and Indifference, who shed such a chill
and depressive mist around them, that all the ardour of the Assembly
seemed to sink. Among the miscellaneous crowds that were visible between
the divisions of the martial host, there ran a murmur of obloquy and
derision against the pure object of public veneration. He was reviled as
a whimsical Reformer, and a rash Enthusiast, who had absurdly
sacrificed his life in a vain and fantastic pursuit. This base spirit of
calumnious malignity was not communicated to any one division of the
martial multitude; but the universal zeal for the glory of HOWARD seemed
to be almost annihilated; even Gratitude and Admiration appeared to grow
faint in their darling purpose. During their languor, they suffered
their sketch of the Mausoleum to be gradually stolen from their hands,
and to drop upon the ground. At this moment a sudden and violent
earthquake was felt through all the extensive scene. The centre of the
vacant area opened--it threw forth a phantom terrific and enormous--its
magnitude seemed to grow upon the sight; its lineaments were shrouded
from our view by an immense mantle, on which were represented a
thousand different and hideous images of Death. Its name was
Contagion--it rushed forward with an indescribable movement. Dismay and
confusion overwhelmed all that quarter of the crowded scene, that was
particularly threatened by its first advance. The affrighted multitude
rolled back like a tumultuous sea. The horrid spectre stopt; and left a
wide interval between itself and the retiring host. A ray of heavenly
light illumined the vacant space. I fixed my eye on the brilliant spot,
and soon beheld the meek and gentle form of HOWARD advancing, without
fear or arrogance, towards the terrific Phantom. With an untrembling
hand he seized the dark folds of its extensive mantle, and seemed
animated with the hope of annihilating the Monster. In the instant, a
burst of celestial splendor was spread over the gloomy plain. The Angel
of Retribution descended; and snatching the consummate Philanthropist to
his bosom, he rose again; while all the astonished multitude, now
reviving from their terror, gazed only on the celestial apparition; and
heard the reascending Seraph thus address the beneficent spirit now
committed to his care:
"Thou faithful servant of Heaven! thy hour of recompence is come. Justly
hast thou cautioned mankind not to impute thy conduct to rashness or
enthusiasm. Weak and wavering in their own pursuits of felicity, thou
wilt not wonder to see them so in their sense of thy merit, and their
zeal for thy honour: but I am commissioned to bear thee to that
All-seeing Power, who can alone truly estimate, and perfectly reward thy
desert. I know that the praise of beings, inferior to thy GOD, never
influenced thy life; but the homage of good minds is grateful to the
purest inhabitants of Heaven; and in departing from a world so much
indebted to thy virtue, let it gratify thy perfect spirit to foresee,
that as long as the earth endures, the most enlightened of her sons will
remember and revere thee as one of her sublimest benefactors."
As soon as the divine messenger had ceased to speak, every voice in the
reanimated multitude, that heard him, raised a shout of benediction on
the name of HOWARD. I started in transport at the sound; and the effort
that I made to join the universal acclamation terminated my vision.
Pardon me, thou gentlest and most indulgent of Friends! that, conscious
as I am of the sincerity with which thy pure mind ever wished to avoid
all exuberance of praise, I yet presume to send into the world such a
tribute to thy virtues as thy humility might reject. Let the motives of
the publication atone for all its defects!
This little work is made public, not from a vain expectation, or desire,
in the Writer to obtain any degree of literary distinction; for, if his
wishes and endeavours are successful, the world will not know from what
hand it proceeds.
Thou most revered object of my regard, who art looking down, perhaps,
with compassion on the petty labours of various mortals, now trying to
commemorate thy merit, thou seest that I am influenced by no arrogant
conceit of having praised with peculiar felicity the perfections that I
so ardently admire. No! I am perfectly sensible, that the most worthy
memorial of thy virtues will be found in those pure records of thy
public services which thy own hand has given to the world with all the
amiable and affecting simplicity that distinguished thy character, and
in the more comprehensive composition of some accomplished Biographer,
who may have opportunities and ability to do justice to thy life.
The chief aim of these few and hasty pages is to recall, at this
particular time, to the liberal spirits of our countrymen that generous
ardour with which they embraced the first idea of a public monument to
HOWARD. While the expence and dignity of that monument are yet
unsettled, a Writer may consider himself as a friend to national honour,
who endeavours to animate his country to the most extensive display of
her munificence, and her gratitude towards the purest public virtue. May
she justly remember, that, to testify a fond maternal pride in such a
departed son, to manifest and perpetuate esteem for such a character,
is, in truth, to promote the interest of genuine Patriotism, of sublime
Morality, and of perfect Religion!
and PG Distributed Proofreaders
365 FOREIGN DISHES
A Foreign Dish for every day in the year
1.--Austrian Goulasch.
Boil 2 calves' heads in salted water until tender; then cut the meat
from the bone. Fry 1 dozen small peeled onions and 3 potatoes, cut
into dice pieces; stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour and the sauce in
which the meat was cooked. Let boil up, add the sliced meat, 1
teaspoonful of paprica and salt to taste; let all cook together
fifteen minutes then serve very hot.
2.--East India Fish.
Slice 1/2 pound of cooked salmon; then heat 1 ounce of butter in a
stew-pan; add 2 small onions chopped fine, 1 ounce of cocoanut, 2
hard-boiled eggs chopped. Let cook a few minutes, then add 1 pint of
milk; let boil up once. Add the fish, 1 teaspoonful of curry paste, 1
teaspoonful of paprica and salt to taste. Let cook a few minutes, then
stir in 1 large tablespoonful of boiled rice. Serve very hot
3.--English Gems.
Cream 1 cup of butter with 2 cups of brown sugar; add 4 beaten eggs, 1
teaspoonful of soda dissolved in 1 large cup of strong coffee, 1 cup
of molasses, 4 cups of sifted flour, 1/2 teaspoonful each of nutmeg,
allspice, cloves and mace, 2 teaspoonfuls of cream of tartar sifted
with 1/2 cup of flour, 1 cup of raisins, 1/2 cup of currants and
chopped citron. Mix well and fill buttered gem pans 1/2 full and bake
until done. Then cover with chocolate icing.
4.--Turkish Pudding.
Dissolve 1/2 box of gelatin; chop 1/4 pound of dates and mix with 2
ounces of boiled rice, 1/2 cup of pulverized sugar and 1 teaspoonful
of vanilla; then mix the gelatin with 1 pint of whipped cream. Mix all
well together and turn into a mold and stand on ice until cold.
Sprinkle with chopped nuts. Serve with whipped cream.
5.--Chinese Chicken.
Cut a fat chicken into pieces at the joints; season with all kinds of
condiments; then put in a deep saucepan. Add some chopped ham, a few
sliced bamboo sprouts, 1 chopped onion and a handful of walnuts. Cover
with hot water and let stew slowly until tender. Add some Chinese
sauce and parsley. Serve with shredded pineapple.
6.--Scotch Scones.
Sift 1-1/2 pints of flour; add a pinch of salt, 1 teaspoonful of soda
mixed with 1 pint of sour milk. Mix to a soft dough. Lay on a
well-floured baking-board and roll 1 inch thick. Cut with a round
cake-cutter and bake on a hot greased griddle until brown on both
sides. Serve hot with butter.
7.--Egyptian Meat Balls.
Chop 1 pound of raw beef; season with salt, pepper and 1 teaspoonful
of curry-powder; add 2 stalks of chopped celery, 1 small onion and
some chopped parsley. Mix with 2 beaten eggs and 1/2 cup of
bread-crumbs, and make into small balls. Let cook in hot butter until
tender. Serve on a border of boiled rice and pour over all a highly
seasoned tomato-sauce.
8.--Austrian Potato Dumplings.
Peel 5 potatoes and boil whole in salted water until tender. Drain,
let get cold, then grate them and mix with 4 eggs and 1 ounce of
butter; add salt to taste. Mix well; add flour enough to form into
dumplings and fry in deep hot lard until brown. Serve hot with
cooked fruit.
9.--Belgian Rice Dessert.
Cook 1 pint of milk; add 1/2 cup of boiled rice and some currants;
stir in the yolks of 2 eggs well beaten with 2 tablespoonfuls of
sugar. Remove from the fire. Add 1 teaspoonful of vanilla; then form
into cylinders. Dip in beaten egg and fine bread-crumbs and fry a
golden brown. Sprinkle with pulverized sugar and put some red currant
jelly on top and serve.
10.--Bavarian Pear Pudding.
Soak 1/2 loaf of bread and press dry. Mix with 1/2 pound of chopped
suet; add a teaspoonful of salt, 1 cup of sugar, 2 eggs and the grated
peel of a lemon, a pinch of cinnamon, cloves and allspice. Add some
sifted flour; mix well, and form into a large ball. Then peel 1 quart
of pears. Cut in half, and lay in a large saucepan a layer of pears;
sprinkle with sugar, cinnamon and grated lemon peel. Lay in the
pudding; cover with a layer of pears and pour over all 3
tablespoonfuls of syrup. Fill with cold water and boil half an hour;
then bake three hours and serve hot.
11.--French Pineapple Bisque.
Beat the yolks of 4 eggs with 1 cup of pulverized sugar; add 1 pint of
cream; stir well until very light. Then add 1 small can of shredded
pineapple and crush a few macaroons. Mix well with a small glass of
brandy. Let freeze and serve in small glasses.
12.--Russian Pancakes.
Make a pancake batter and fry in thin cakes. Then spread them with a
layer of anchovies, butter and a layer of caviare. Sprinkle with
minced shallots, cayenne pepper and lemon-juice. Roll up and serve hot
as possible.
13.--Egyptian Cabbage.
Parboil a cabbage in salted water; drain and stuff with chopped cooked
mutton. Mix with chopped ham, 1 onion and 2 sprigs of parsley chopped
fine. Add 1/2 cup of cooked rice, salt and pepper to taste. Place in a
buttered baking-dish; sprinkle with bits of butter; add the juice of a
lemon, and let bake in a moderate oven until done. Baste often with
butter and serve hot.
14.--Madras Baked Fish.
Season a fish with salt, pepper, some grated green ginger and
curry-powder. Place in a baking-pan with 1 sliced onion, 2 chopped
green peppers and 1 sprig of parsley. Pour over some water and hot
melted butter; sprinkle with flour and bake until done. Garnish with
sliced lemon and parsley.
15.--Norwegian Salad.
Cut some pickled herring into pieces and mix with flaked lax, 2 peeled
apples and 2 boiled potatoes. Cut into dice pieces; add some chopped
shallots and gherkins; sprinkle with finely minced tarragon and
chervil, salt and pepper. Cover with a plain salad dressing.
16.--Dutch Eggs.
Heat some butter in a pan; then break in as many eggs as needed and
fry them; add some sliced onions. Remove the eggs to a platter;
arrange the onions on the eggs; sprinkle with salt and red pepper and
pour over some lemon-juice. Serve as hot as possible on toast.
17.--Bavarian Wine Soup.
Mix 3 pints of red wine with 1 pint of water. Add sugar, nutmeg and
cinnamon to taste and the grated peel of half a lemon. Let come to a
boil; then stir in the yolks of 2 well-beaten eggs. Do not boil again.
Serve hot with biscuits.
18.--English Stuffed Goose.
Season a fat goose with salt and pepper, and rub well with vinegar.
Then core small apples and fill the goose with the whole apples. Put
in the baking-pan, sprinkle with flour; pour over 1 cup of hot water;
add a lump of butter and bake until done. Baste often with the sauce
in the pan. Serve the goose with the whole apples.
19.--Vienna Peach Torte.
Make a rich pie-dough; then line a pie-dish with the dough. Pare and
remove the stones from the peaches and cut into quarters. Lay closely
on the pie; sprinkle with brown sugar and moisten with wine. Bake in a
moderate oven until done. Then spread with a meringue and let brown in
the oven a few minutes.
20.--Egyptian Meat-Pie.
Line a large baking-dish with pie-dough. Have ready 1/2 pound of
calf's liver chopped, and 1/2 pound of fresh pork chopped fine. Season
highly and mix with 1/2 cup of butter, 2 green peppers, 1 onion
chopped and 1/2 can of chopped mushrooms. Moisten with a glass of
sherry. Fill the dish with the mixture and cover with the dough. Let
bake until done and serve hot.
21.--Russian Boiled Fish.
Clean and season a whole fish and let boil with 1 sliced onion, 1/2
cup of vinegar, a few slices of lemon and 2 sprigs of parsley. Add a
tablespoonful of butter and let cook until tender. Remove the fish to
a platter; mix the sauce with 1 tablespoonful of brown sugar, a pinch
of ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg and the juice of a lemon. Let boil
well; then thicken with the yolks of 2 beaten eggs and pour over the
fish. Serve cold. Garnish with lemon-slices and olives.
22.--Spanish Cake.
Beat 1 pound of butter with 1 pound of sugar to a cream. Add the yolks
of 8 eggs well beaten. Sift 1 pound of flour with 2 teaspoonfuls of
baking-powder and stir together with 1 cup of milk. Add the whites of
eggs, beaten to a stiff froth with a pinch of salt. Flavor with
rose-water. Bake in a moderate oven until done.
23.--Vienna Stewed Carrots.
Peel some carrots and cut in small pieces. Boil in salted water until
tender; drain. Brown 1 tablespoonful of flour in 2 tablespoonfuls of
butter; add 1/2 cup of the water in which the carrots were cooked, 2
tablespoonfuls of vinegar and a little sugar. Let all boil; then add
the carrots and 1 cup of cooked peas, some chopped parsley and a pinch
of pepper. Simmer ten minutes and serve hot.
24.--Russian Fish-Roll.
Chop some cooked trout and white fish, and mix with 1/2 cup of boiled
rice. Season with salt, pepper and all kinds of herbs minced fine.
Then make a rich pie-paste and roll out very thin. Fill with the
mixture and make into a roll. Sprinkle with bits of butter and let
bake until brown. Serve hot with wine-sauce.
25.--India Curried Eggs.
Cut hard-boiled eggs in halves; then fry 1 small chopped onion and 1
chopped apple in hot butter; add 1/4 cup of pounded almonds and 1 pint
of milk, mixed with 1/2 tablespoonful of cornstarch. Season with salt
and a dessertspoonful of curry-powder. Let cook ten minutes; then add
the eggs. Let all get very hot. Serve with croutons; garnish with
fried parsley.
26.--Codfish a la Lyonnaise.
Cut cold boiled codfish in pieces; then boil 8 small onions until
soft; heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter. Add the boiled onions, 2 small
cold sliced potatoes, the codfish and 1 cup of milk; sprinkle with
pepper. Cover and simmer ten minutes and serve hot.
27.--Jewish Crebchen Soup.
Beat 3 eggs with 2 tablespoonfuls of water and a pinch of salt; then
add enough flour to make a stiff dough. Work it well with flour and
roll out as thin as possible; fold it double and cut into square
pieces and fill with minced cooked chicken or veal. Sprinkle with
chopped parsley and bits of butter; fold in the edges. Have ready some
soup stock; when boiling, add the crebchen and let boil until done.
Serve with the soup.
28.--French Veal Souffle.
Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter. Mix with 2 tablespoonfuls of flour
until smooth; add 1 cup of milk; let boil up. Then add 1 cup of minced
veal, some parsley, salt, pepper and nutmeg to taste. Stir in the
yolks of 2 eggs. Remove from the fire; let cool. Beat the whites to a
stiff froth; add to the meat. Put in a buttered baking-dish and bake
twenty minutes. Serve at once.
29.--Belgian Potato Salad.
Slice cold boiled potatoes very thin and mix with chopped celery and
onion; season with salt and pepper. Then mix the yolks of 2
hard-boiled eggs with 1 tablespoonful of olive-oil. Add to the salad
with 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar. Sprinkle with chopped parsley
30.--Polish Stewed Tongue.
Cook a fresh tongue until tender; skin and slice thin. Put a large
spoonful of butter in a saucepan; add a chopped onion; let brown. Then
stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour; add 2 cups of the water in which the
tongue was cooked, a pinch of nutmeg and cinnamon. Let boil with the
juice of 1 lemon, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar and 1 tablespoonful of
sugar. Add the sliced tongue and simmer ten minutes. Serve hot
31.--Rissotto (ITALIAN).
Boil 1 cup of rice in salted water until soft; drain. Then grate
Parmesan cheese and cover the rice with cheese. Let steam in the oven
a few minutes; then pour over some highly seasoned tomato-sauce, and
serve hot with fried veal chops.
1.--Oriental Canapes.
Take some lobster or crab-meat and pound in a mortar. Mix with 1
tablespoonful of butter; season with salt and pepper, a pinch each of
mustard, cayenne, nutmeg and curry-powder and moisten with
lemon-juice. Cut small rounds of toasted bread; scoop out some of the
centre; fill with the mixture and cover with a curry sauce. Sprinkle
with fine bread-crumbs and let bake in the oven a few minutes.
2.--Haggis (SCOTCH).
Chop a sheep's tongue, liver and heart and 1 pound of bacon. Add 2
large chopped onions; season with 1/4 teaspoonful of red pepper and 1
teaspoonful of mixed herbs and salt to taste. Mix with 1 pint of
toasted oatmeal, 2 beaten eggs and the grated rind and juice of a
lemon. Then clean the pouch of the sheep and fill with the mixture.
Lay in boiling water and let boil three hours. Serve with apple-sauce.
3.--Austrian Braised Tongue.
Boil a large fresh beef tongue in salted water until tender. Remove
the tongue and lard it with thin strips of bacon; sprinkle with
paprica; lay in a baking-pan; add 1 onion sliced thin and 1 cup of the
water in which the tongue was cooked and pour over 1 pint of cream.
Let bake in a moderate oven. Baste often with the sauce. Serve hot,
and pour over the sauce; garnish with parsley.
4.--Russian Omelet.
Chop 2 shallots with a little parsley and cook in hot water. Add 2
tablespoonfuls of caviare and a teaspoonful of lemon-juice; season to
taste. Beat 4 eggs with 1 tablespoonful of cream, salt and pepper, and
fry in an omelet-pan with hot butter until done. Put the mixture in
the centre; turn in the ends and serve at once.
5.--Madras Potato Curry.
Cut boiled potatoes into thin slices; then fry 1 chopped onion in 2
tablespoonfuls of butter. Add 3 ounces of grated cocoanut, 1
teaspoonful of curry-powder and 1 cup of milk, salt and cayenne pepper
to taste. Let boil up. Add the sliced potatoes and a sprig of parsley
chopped. Let simmer a few minutes and serve hot.
6.--Swiss Baked Eggs.
Melt 1 ounce of butter in a baking-pan; then cover the bottom of the
pan with thin slices of Swiss cheese. Break in 6 eggs; sprinkle with
salt and pepper. Pour over 4 tablespoonfuls of cream; sprinkle with
grated Swiss cheese, and let bake in the oven to a delicate brown.
7.--Jewish Stewed Shad.
Clean and cut a shad into large slices; sprinkle with salt, pepper and
ginger. Put on to boil with 1 sliced onion, 1 bay-leaf, a few cloves,
2 sprigs of parsley and 1/2 cup of vinegar. When done, remove the fish
to a platter; add 1/2 cup of raisins, 1 tablespoonful of butter, 1/2
cup of pounded almonds, 1 glass of wine, 1 tablespoonful of brown
sugar and a pinch of cinnamon. Let boil until done and pour over the
fish. Garnish with sliced lemon and sprigs of parsley and serve cold.
8.--Bombay Spinach.
Boil the spinach in salted water until tender; drain and chop fine.
Fry 1 chopped onion in 2 tablespoonfuls of butter; add the chopped
spinach, a pinch of pepper and curry-powder. Cover and let simmer five
minutes. Serve on a platter with stewed prawns and garnish
with croutons.
9.--Spanish Fricasseed Shrimps.
Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter; add 1 onion chopped and 2 cups of
tomatoes. Let fry; then stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour; add 1/2 cup
of water; let boil; add 1 quart of shrimps, salt, pepper and parsley.
Let all cook twenty minutes. Stir in the yolk of an egg. Remove from
the fire. Put some boiled rice on a platter; add the shrimps and pour
over the sauce. Serve very hot.
10.--Irish Baked Potatoes.
Peel and boil potatoes in salted water until tender; drain and mash
with a lump of butter. Put in a well-buttered baking-dish a layer of
the potatoes and a layer of fried bread-crumbs until dish is full.
Moisten with beaten eggs, well seasoned with salt and pepper, and 3
tablespoonfuls of milk. Put in the oven to brown. Serve with
boiled fish.
11.--Russian Stewed Chicken.
Cut a fat chicken into pieces at the joints and let stew, well
seasoned with salt and pepper. Then add some small whole onions, some
cauliflower, mushrooms and 1 cup of French peas. Let all cook until
tender; then serve hot on a large platter.
12.--Dutch Baked Mackerel.
Place the mackerel in a baking-dish; sprinkle with pepper and chopped
parsley. Cover with fried bread-crumbs and bits of butter, and moisten
with cream. Then bake until brown on top and serve hot with
stewed potatoes.
13.--Polish Roast Mutton.
Season a leg of mutton with salt, pepper and a pinch of cloves. Lay in
a baking-pan with 1 sliced onion, 2 celery roots, 3 cloves of garlic
and 2 carrots cut fine, 1 bay-leaf, a sprig of thyme and a few
peppercorns. Pour over 1 cup of vinegar and 1 cup of hot water. Dredge
with flour and let bake in a hot oven. Baste often with the sauce in
the pan until nearly done; then add 1 pint of sour cream and let bake
until done. Thicken with flour; boil up and pour over the roast.
14.--Italian Sugar Cakes.
Beat 1-1/2 pounds of sugar and 1/2 pound of butter to a cream; add 4
yolks of eggs, a pinch of salt and nutmeg. Stir in 1/2 pound of flour,
4 ounces of currants, 2 ounces of chopped almonds, 1 tablespoonful of
citron and candied orange peel chopped fine. Add the whites beaten
stiff and bake in small well-buttered cake-tins until done; then cover
with a thin icing.
15.--Oriental Stewed Prawns.
Clean and pick 3 dozen prawns. Heat some dripping in a large saucepan;
add the prawns, 1 chopped onion, salt, pepper and 1 teaspoonful of
curry-powder. Add 1 pint of stock and let simmer half an hour until
tender. Serve on a border of boiled rice; garnish with fried parsley.
16.--Swiss Steak.
Season a round steak with salt, black pepper and paprica; dredge with
flour and let fry in hot lard on both sides until brown. Then add some
sliced onions and moisten well with tomato-sauce. Cover and let simmer
half an hour. Serve hot on a platter with mashed potatoes.
17.--Berlin Herring Salad.
Soak the herring over night; remove the milch and mash fine. Cut off
the head, skin and bone; chop the herring; add chopped apples,
pickles, potatoes, olives and capers. Put in the salad bowl; then add
the yolk of a hard-boiled egg to the mashed milch, mustard, 1
teaspoonful of sugar mixed with 1/4 cup of vinegar and a little
lemon-juice, salt and pepper. Pour the sauce over the salad and
garnish with olives and sliced lemon.
18.--German Lentil Soup.
To 1 gallon of soup stock, add 1 quart of lentils. Let boil until
lentils are soft, with 1 sliced onion. Then add some small sausages.
Let boil five minutes. Season to taste and serve the soup with the
sausages and croutons fried in butter.
19.--French Spiced Venison.
Rub the venison with salt, pepper, vinegar, cloves and allspice; then
put in a baking-pan. Pour over a cup of melted butter; add 1 onion
sliced, some thyme, parsley, the juice of a lemon, and a cup of hot
water. Let bake, covered, in a hot oven. Baste often with the sauce
when nearly done. Sprinkle with flour; add a glass of sherry and let
brown. Serve with celery and currant jelly.
20.--Spanish Mushrooms.
Drain 1 can of mushrooms and heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter. Add 6
shallots and 1 clove of garlic chopped fine, some parsley and thyme
and the mushrooms. Let all fry a few minutes; then add the mushroom
liquor and 2 tablespoonfuls of white wine, salt and pepper to taste.
Let simmer five minutes and serve hot on slices of toast.
21.--Vienna Noodle Pudding.
Boil some fine noodles in salted water for ten minutes; let drain.
Beat the yolks of 5 eggs with 1 cup of pulverized sugar and mix with
the noodles. Add 1/2 cup of raisins, 1/2 cup of pounded almonds, a
pinch of cinnamon and the whites of the eggs beaten to a froth. Put in
a well-buttered pudding-dish and bake until brown. Serve hot with
lemon sauce.
22.--Dutch Sweet Potato Puff.
Peel and boil 3 sweet potatoes in salted water until tender; then mash
well with 3 beaten yolks of eggs, 1 cup of milk, 3 tablespoonfuls of
butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of sugar, a pinch of nutmeg and lemon-juice.
Beat the whites with a pinch of salt to a stiff froth; add to the
potatoes and put in a well buttered baking-dish and bake. Serve hot.
23.--Spaghetti (ITALIAN).
Boil 1/2 pound of spaghetti until tender. Drain. Heat 1 tablespoonful
of butter, stir in 1/2 pound of grated cheese, salt and pepper. Then
add 1 cup of milk; let boil and pour over the spaghetti. Sprinkle with
salt, pepper and grated cheese and let bake in the oven until done.
24.--Russian Beet Soup.
Boil 5 medium-sized beets until tender; then chop and add to a highly
seasoned chicken broth. Add the juice of 1 lemon, some cinnamon and
nutmeg; let boil fifteen minutes. Then add 1 glass of red wine, mixed
with a teaspoonful of brown sugar. Let boil a few minutes longer and
serve with fried croutons.
25.--Boulettes.
Chop and mince 1 pound of round steak, 1 onion and 2 sprigs of
parsley. Add 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 2 tablespoonfuls of
melted butter. Season highly with salt, black pepper and a pinch of
cayenne. Mix with 1 egg and form into balls; roll in flour and fry in
deep hot lard until brown. Serve hot with tomato-sauce.
26.--Baden Stewed Lentils.
Boil 1 quart of lentils until tender; then heat 2 tablespoonfuls of
butter. Add 1 chopped onion and stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour until
brown; add some cold water mixed with vinegar. Let boil and pour the
sauce over the lentils. Season with salt and pepper, and serve with
small boiled sausages. Sprinkle the top with bread-crumbs fried in
butter until brown.
27.--Duck aux Champignons.
Clean and season a pair of wild ducks and cut into pieces at the
joints. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter in a saucepan; add the ducks,
1 large onion chopped fine, 2 cloves of garlic and 1 herb bouquet
chopped. Cover and brown a few minutes; add 1 cup of water and stew
until tender. Then add 1/2 can of mushrooms and 1 glass of claret and
let simmer until done.
28.--Hungarian Beef Stew.
Cut beef into small pieces. Heat some dripping in a saucepan; add the
meat, salt and black pepper; cover and let stew half an hour. Then add
3 potatoes cut into dice pieces, 1 onion sliced thin, 1 cup of hot
water, and 1/2 teaspoonful of paprica. Let all cook until tender. Then
add some chopped parsley and thicken the sauce with flour, mixed in
1/2 cup of milk. Let cook a few minutes and serve hot.
1.--Chicken Chop Suey (CHINESE).
Cut all the meat of a chicken into thin strips; season with black
pepper, and cayenne, and fry in hot lard. Add some ham, onion, celery,
green bean sprouts and mushrooms cut fine. Moisten with 1/2 cup of
stock. Add 1/4 cup of Chinese sauce; cover and let simmer until
tender. Thicken the sauce with flour; add 2 tablespoonfuls of cream
and chopped parsley. Serve hot on a platter with boiled rice.
2.--Jewish Shallet.
Line a well-buttered pudding-dish with a rich pie-paste and cover with
a layer of sliced apples. Sprinkle with cinnamon, grated lemon peel
and small bits of butter, and moisten with white wine; then cover with
a layer of the paste and fill with another layer of apples, nuts and
raisins, a tablespoonful of syrup, the juice of 1/2 lemon and bits of
butter. Cover with the top crust; press in the edges with a beaten
egg, and rub the top with butter. Let bake in a moderate oven
3.--Russian Relish.
Cut some slices of brown bread into fingers half an inch thick; spread
with butter. Mix some Russian caviare with lemon-juice to taste and a
tablespoonful of finely chopped shallots. Spread the fingers with the
mixture and place an oyster in the centre of each. Sprinkle with salt
and a pinch of paprica. Serve. Garnish with thin slices of lemon
and parsley.
4.--Dutch Stuffed Potatoes.
Select fine smooth potatoes; cut off the end of each and scrape out
the inside. Mix this with chopped ham, onion and parsley, and a
tablespoonful of butter. Season with salt, pepper and lemon-juice.
Fill the potato with the mixture and let bake in a moderate oven until
tender and serve hot.
5.--Fish a la Marseilles.
Cut two kinds of fish into slices; season with salt. Mince 2 cloves of
garlic, 2 sprigs of parsley, 2 sprigs of thyme and 2 bay-leaves very
fine. Add a pinch of pepper. Roll the fish in the spice. Then fry 2
sliced onions in butter; add 1 cup of tomatoes, the juice of a lemon
and 2 cups of water. Let boil up. Add the fish and let boil until
done. Remove the fish to a platter. Add a cup of white wine to the
sauce and 1 tablespoonful of sugar. Boil up and pour over the fish.
Serve with toast.
6.--Jewish Stewed Brains.
Clean and stew the brains with 1/2 cup of vinegar, 1 sliced onion,
salt and pepper. Add a tablespoonful of brown sugar, 1/2 cup of
raisins. Let stew until tender. Remove the brains to a platter; add a
lump of butter and a tablespoonful of molasses to the sauce; boil up
and pour over the brains. Serve cold; garnish with lemon slices.
7.--Austrian Apple Strudel.
Mix 1 pint of flour with 1/2 cup of water, 4 ounces of butter, 3 eggs
and a pinch of salt to a stiff dough; then roll out as thin as
possible. Pour over some melted butter; cover with chopped apples and
raisins. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. Make a large roll; bake in
a buttered baking-pan with flakes of butter on top until brown.
8.--Vienna Nut Torte.
Blanch 1/4 pound of almonds and pound in a mortar. Then beat 4 eggs
with 1/2 cup of sugar. Add 1 teaspoonful of brandy and a teaspoonful
of wine and lemon-juice; add 4 lady fingers crumbled up fine. Beat all
together with the nuts; put in a well-buttered pudding-dish and bake.
Serve with wine sauce.
9.--Bavarian Cabbage Salad.
Chop a cabbage with 1 large onion and 2 stalks of celery and 2
peppers; season well with salt and sprinkle with pepper. Heat some
vinegar; add a teaspoonful of prepared mustard. Then beat the yolks of
2 eggs with a tablespoonful of sugar; add the hot vinegar slowly to
the beaten eggs and mix with the cabbage. Serve cold.
10.--Russian Stewed Duck.
Clean and cut the duck into pieces and season with salt and pepper;
then cut 1/2 pound of bacon into dice pieces and put in a large
saucepan with 1 onion and 2 carrots. Cut fine 1 herb bouquet, a few
cloves and a few peppercorns; add the duck. Let all cook slowly with 1
cup of stock until tender; then add 1 cup of red wine. Thicken the
sauce with flour, boil and serve hot.
11.--Russian Chicken Patties.
Chop the white meat of cooked chicken and turkey very fine and mix
with 3 chopped truffles and some chopped parsley. Season with the
grated peel of 1/2 lemon, a pinch of nutmeg, salt and pepper to taste,
and moisten with cream. Make a puff-paste and roll out very thin. Cut
into squares and fill with a tablespoonful of the mixture. Press the
ends together and fry in deep hot lard until a light brown. Drain and
serve very hot with tomato-sauce.
12.--Japanese Salad.
Cut some celery, apples and truffles into fine shreds and mix with
chrysanthemum flowers; season with salt and pepper. Put in a salad
bowl and cover with a mayonnaise dressing. Garnish with chopped
hard-boiled eggs and olives.
13.--Polish Chops.
Season veal chops with salt and pepper and let fry a few minutes in
hot dripping. Remove the chops and cover with a mixture of bacon,
liver, onions and parsley minced fine and well seasoned. Then let bake
in the oven with 1 cup of beef broth. Baste often and serve very hot.
14.--Spanish Stewed Rabbit.
Clean and parboil 2 rabbits; then cut into pieces. Sprinkle with flour
and fry in hot lard. Remove the rabbits. Add chopped tomato and onion
to the sauce; mix with flour; let fry; add the sauce in which the
rabbit was cooked, some lemon-juice, 1/2 teaspoonful of red pepper,
parsley and salt to taste. Cook ten minutes; then add the rabbit and
simmer five minutes. Serve hot with boiled rice.
15.--Scotch Baked Mutton.
Season a leg of mutton well with salt and pepper. Dredge with flour
and let bake in a hot oven until nearly done. Then add some boiled
turnips cut in quarters; sprinkle with pepper and flour; let bake
until browned. Serve the mutton on a platter with the turnips.
16.--Belgian Stuffed Shad.
Season and stuff the shad with chopped oysters and mushrooms well
seasoned. Place in a well-buttered baking-dish; sprinkle with fine
bread-crumbs, chopped onion and parsley. Put flakes of butter on top
and pour in 1 cup of tomato-sauce. Let bake until done. Baste often
with the sauce. Serve with celery salad with French dressing.
17.--Italian Roast Beef.
Cut several deep incisions in the upper round of beef and press into
them lardoons of salt pork. Stick 2 cloves of sliced garlic and 1
dozen cloves in the meat; season with salt and pepper and dredge with
flour. Put in the dripping-pan with some hot water and let roast until
tender. Serve with boiled macaroni.
18.--French Apple Souffle.
Cook apples and sweeten to taste. Mash well with 1 tablespoonful of
butter. Beat the yolks of 3 eggs with 2 tablespoonfuls of sugar, the
juice and rind of 1/2 lemon; add the whites beaten to a stiff froth.
Put in a buttered pudding-dish and bake in a moderate oven until done.
19.--German Sweet Pretzels.
Mix 1/2 pound of flour with 1/2 pound of fresh butter; add 1/4 pound
of sugar, 1 egg and 1 beaten yolk, 1 tablespoonful of sweet cream and
some grated lemon peel. Mix thoroughly and mold the dough into small
wreaths; brush the top with the yolk of an egg and sprinkle with
powdered sweet almonds. Lay in a well-buttered baking-tin and bake
until a deep yellow.
20.--French Waffles.
Sift 3 cups of flour with 1-1/2 teaspoonfuls of baking-powder and 1/2
teaspoonful of salt. Beat the yolks of 3 eggs; add a tablespoonful of
melted butter and 2 cups of warm milk. Add the beaten whites and stir
in the flour, making a light batter. Grease the waffle irons and fill
with the batter. Bake until a delicate brown. Remove to a hot dish.
Serve hot with powdered sugar on top.
21.--Swedish Stewed Mutton.
Season the breast of mutton with salt, pepper, thyme and mace; let
stew slowly with 1 onion and 2 cloves of garlic chopped. Add some
chopped capers and mushrooms; cook until tender. Then thicken the
sauce with flour mixed with a glass of wine and boil up. Serve hot
with baked turnips.
22.--Swedish Pie.
Make a rich pie-dough; line a deep pie-dish with the paste and let
bake. Then fill with chopped boiled fish, oysters, shrimps and some
chopped mushrooms. Sprinkle with salt and paprica and the grated peel
of a lemon. Pour over 1/4 cup of melted butter and the juice of 1/2
lemon and a beaten egg. Then cover with the dough and let bake until
done. Serve hot.
23.--Greek Stuffed Egg-Plant.
Parboil the egg-plant and cut in half. Scrape out some of the inside
and chop some cooked lamb, 2 green peppers, 1 onion, and 2 tomatoes.
Then mix with a beaten egg, 1 tablespoonful of butter, salt and pepper
to taste. Fill the halves with the mixture; sprinkle with bread-crumbs
and bits of butter. Put in a baking-dish with a little stock and bake.
24.--Norwegian Fish Pudding.
Remove the bones from a large cooked fish and chop to a fine mince.
Mix with 2 beaten eggs, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream, 1 tablespoonful of
butter, season with salt, black pepper and 1/4 teaspoonful of paprica.
Beat well together with some bread-crumbs; fill a mold with the
pudding and let steam one hour; then boil the sauce in which the fish
was cooked, add 1 tablespoonful of butter, chopped parsley and chopped
onion. Season highly; boil and serve with the pudding.
25.--Japanese Eggs.
Cook some rice in a rich chicken stock; place on a platter. Fry 6 eggs
and trim neatly; sprinkle with salt, black pepper, chopped parsley and
lemon-juice. Put the eggs on the rice and pour a little hot
tomato-sauce over the base of the platter and serve.
26.--Jewish Stewed Brisket.
Boil beef brisket until tender, and slice thin. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls
of butter; add 1 chopped onion. Stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour until
brown. Add the water in which the meat was cooked, 1/2 cup of raisins,
1/2 cup of vinegar, 1 tablespoonful of brown sugar and some cinnamon
and 1 carrot sliced thin, salt, pepper and a few cloves. Let boil. Add
the brisket and simmer fifteen minutes. Serve hot or cold.
27.--Hungarian Fruit Roll.
Make a pie-dough. Roll out and spread with melted butter, raisins,
currants, chopped apples, nuts and shredded citron. Cover well with
brown sugar and sprinkle with cinnamon and the grated peel of a lemon.
Roll up the dough. Lay in a buttered baking-pan. Rub the top well with
melted butter and let bake until brown. Serve with wine sauce.
28.--Dutch Stewed Fish.
Cook a large fish with 1 onion, 2 stalks of celery, parsley, a
tablespoonful of butter, salt and pepper until done. Remove fish to a
platter. Add 2 chopped pickles, the juice and rind of a lemon, 1/2 cup
of vinegar. Mash the yolks of 2 boiled eggs with 1 raw egg, a
teaspoonful of prepared mustard and a tablespoonful of butter. Add to
the sauce and boil. Lay the fish in the boiling sauce ten minutes;
29.--Belgian Lamb Chops.
Season lamb chops; dredge with flour and fry until brown; keep hot.
Fry 1 chopped onion and 1 small carrot in two tablespoonfuls of
butter. Add 1 tablespoonful of flour; stir until light brown. Add 1/2
cup of water; let boil well; add parsley, a few cloves and
peppercorns, salt and pepper and 1 bay-leaf minced fine. Boil well.
Add 1 glass of claret; then pour the sauce hot over the chops, and
garnish with French peas.
30.--Austrian Apple Omelet.
Peel, core and slice some apples very thin. Heat 1 large tablespoonful
of butter in a frying-pan; put in the apples and let them steam until
tender. Make an egg omelet batter; sweeten to taste and pour over the
apples; let cook until set. Cover thickly with sugar and sprinkle with
cinnamon. Serve hot with wine sauce.
31.--Fish a la Normandie.
Boil a trout well seasoned; add 1 sliced onion, 1 carrot chopped, 2
sprigs of parsley and 1 bay-leaf, a few peppercorns and 1
tablespoonful of butter. When done, beat the yolks of 2 eggs with a
little cream; add salt and a pinch of cayenne. Remove the fish to a
platter. Mix the egg sauce with the water in which the fish was
cooked; add 1/2 cup of cream. Let get very hot and pour over the fish.
Garnish with parsley. Serve hot.
1.--Italian Tongue.
Boil a beef tongue until tender; skin and slice thin. Heat 2
tablespoonfuls of butter. Add 1 chopped onion and 2 cloves of garlic
minced fine. Stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour until brown; add a
little water, 1 cup of tomato-sauce, 1/2 cup chopped mushrooms,
lemon-juice, salt and pepper to taste. Let boil. Add the sliced
tongue, and 1/2 glass of sherry wine. Simmer ten minutes. Serve with
baked macaroni.
2.--German Prune Pudding.
Cook 1 pound of prunes in a large saucepan with sliced lemon, a piece
of stick cinnamon and brown sugar. Soak 1/2 loaf of bread in water;
press out dry. Add 3 eggs, 1/4 teaspoonful each of cinnamon, cloves
and allspice. Add flour sifted with a teaspoonful of baking-powder.
Make into a large roll; place in the centre of the prunes; cover with
brown sugar and a tablespoonful of molasses and put in the oven to
bake until done. Serve hot or cold.
3.--Swiss Pot Roast.
Season a breast of veal with salt, pepper and ginger. Heat a cupful of
dripping; lay the meat in the stew-pan with the dripping, 1 onion,
some celery seed, carroway seed, a few peppercorns and parsley. Cover
and let stew slowly until nearly done; then add 1 cup of tomato-sauce
and cook slowly until tender. Serve with baked potatoes.
4.--Mushrooms a la Bordelaise.
Drain 1 can of mushrooms; chop 6 shallots very fine and saute in 1
tablespoonful of butter. Add the chopped mushrooms; sprinkle with
salt, pepper, some chopped parsley and 1 minced bay-leaf. Let cook ten
minutes with 1/2 glass of sherry wine. Serve hot on slices of
French toast.
5.--Turkish Soup.
Season and fry some lamb chops; add 2 green peppers sliced thin, 1
onion chopped and an herb bouquet. Then cook 1/2 cup of barley in 1
quart of soup stock until tender. Pour all together and let cook until
meat is very tender. Serve hot.
6.--Scotch Omelet.
Boil young tender leeks in salted water; let drain. Chop to a fine
mince and fry in hot butter. Add 6 well-beaten eggs, sprinkle with
salt and pepper and fold into an omelet and serve on a hot dish.
7.--Jewish Egg Bread.
Soak some matzoths in milk for a few minutes; then dip them into
seasoned beaten eggs. Add a pinch of sugar and let them fry in hot
rendered butter until a golden brown. Sprinkle with pulverized sugar
and cinnamon and serve hot with coffee.
8.--Bombay Broiled Kidney.
Clean sheep's kidneys and cut into thin slices. Sprinkle with salt,
cayenne pepper and grated lemon peel. Then dip in beaten egg and fine
bread-crumbs and broil on a hot greased gridiron. Serve on buttered
toast, spread with curry paste.
9.--German Prune Kuchen.
Boil some prunes until tender. Remove the kernels and mash the prunes
well. Mix with sugar, cinnamon and lemon-juice to taste. Make a rich
biscuit dough, roll out and place on a well-buttered baking-pan. Fill
with the prunes and let bake until done. Serve cold.
10.--French Roast with Carrots.
Lard a round of beef with slices of bacon and put in a large saucepan.
Cover and let brown a few minutes. Add sliced onion and boiling water
to cover. Let cook slowly until tender; then scrape 6 carrots and cut
thin; add 2 sliced onions, 2 cloves of garlic and let cook until
tender. Thicken with butter and flour. Season highly with salt, pepper
and parsley; add to the meat, and let all cook together a half hour
and serve hot.
11.--Spanish Fried Chicken.
Cut a fat hen into pieces at the joints and boil until tender; season
and fry with 1 onion and 2 green peppers chopped fine. Add 1 cup of
tomato-sauce, salt and pepper to taste. Serve the chicken on a platter
with boiled rice.
12.--Hungarian Bread Pudding.
Chop 1/2 cup of suet. Mix with 1/2 loaf of stale bread that has been
soaked and pressed dry. Add 1 cup of chopped apples, 1 cup of sugar,
1/2 cup of chopped raisins and nuts. Sprinkle with cinnamon, nutmeg
and grated lemon peel; then mix with the yolks of 4 eggs and the
whites beaten stiff. Put in a well-buttered pudding-dish, and let bake
until done. Serve hot with wine sauce.
13.--Swedish Baked Turnips.
Peel small tender turnips; heat 1 tablespoonful of butter in a
saucepan. Place the turnips in whole, sprinkle with salt and pepper;
add a tablespoonful of sugar. Pour over a cup of water; cover and let
cook for one hour until tender but not broken. Thicken the sauce with
flour and milk. Add a little water and set in the oven a half hour,
covered with paper; then serve.
14.--Belgian Baked Bananas.
Skin fine bananas and lay them whole in a baking-dish. Sprinkle with
sugar and grated lemon peel. Add the juice of 1 orange, 1/2 lemon and
1/2 glass of sherry wine. Let bake in a quick oven. Put the bananas in
a glass dish and pour over the sauce. Let get cold and serve.
15.--Japanese Rice.
Boil 1 cup of rice; add 3 chopped shallots, 1 teaspoonful of soy and
salt to taste. Place on a platter, cover with chopped hard-boiled
eggs, sprinkle with salt, paprica and chopped parsley. Garnish with
some thin slices of smoked salmon.
16.--Scotch Loaf Cake.
Mix 1/2 pound of butter with 1/4 pound of sugar, 1/2 cup of chopped
nuts and 1/2 cup of shredded citron; then work in 1 pound of sifted
flour with 2 teaspoonfuls of baking-powder. Make a loaf a half inch
thick and bake in a moderate oven until done.
17.--English Meat Loaf.
Chop cooked veal and boiled ham; place in a well-greased mold
alternate layers of veal, ham and hard-boiled eggs. Sprinkle with
pepper, mace and chopped parsley. Moisten with beef-stock and let bake
in the oven. Serve cold, sliced very thin, garnished with watercress.
18.--Jewish Purim Cakes.
Beat 1 cup of sugar with 1/2 cup of butter to a cream; add 2 beaten
eggs, a pinch of salt, 1/2 cup of milk and the grated peel of 1/2
lemon. Add enough sifted flour with 1 teaspoonful of baking-powder to
make a soft biscuit dough. Put on a well-floured baking-board. Roll
out a half inch thick. Cut into triangles and drop in a kettle of hot
rendered butter; fry until a golden brown. Then mix some powdered
sugar with a little milk and flavor with vanilla. Spread on the top.
19.--Swiss Pie.
Make a rich pie-dough. Line a buttered pie-dish with the dough; then
slice three onions very thin and let cook in hot butter until tender;
add a pinch of salt. Fill the pie with the onions, cover the top with
cream and let bake in a moderate oven until done. Serve hot or cold.
20.--French Apple Fritters.
Peel and slice large apples; sprinkle with sugar and lemon-juice and
make a rich egg batter. Sweeten to taste and flavor with 2
tablespoonfuls of orange-flower water. Lay the sliced apples in the
batter and fry in deep hot lard to a golden brown. Serve with
21.--Jewish Purim Torte.
Line a well-buttered baking-dish with a rich pie-paste. Then mix 1 cup
of fine poppy-seeds with the yolks of 5 eggs and 1/2 cup of sugar,
some chopped raisins and nuts and the juice of 1/2 lemon. Add the
whites beaten stiff; then fill with the mixture and let bake
22.--English Boiled Pudding.
Mix 1/2 pound of butter with 1/2 pound of powdered sugar to a cream.
Add the yolks of 6 eggs beaten, 1/2 cup of seeded raisins and some
chopped citron, a pinch of nutmeg and cinnamon. Mix in 1/2 pound of
sifted flour and 1/2 teaspoonful of baking-powder. Add the whites,
beaten to a stiff froth; put in a buttered pudding-mold, and let boil
until done. Serve with brandy sauce.
23.--German Stewed Brains.
Clean the brains. Heat 1 tablespoonful of drippings in a pan; add the
brains, 1 sliced onion, some parsley, salt and pepper. Let stew
fifteen minutes. Thicken the sauce with butter and flour; let boil up.
Serve hot with spinach and sprinkle all with chopped hard-boiled eggs.
24.--Scotch Cream Muffins.
Sift 1 pint of flour with 1 teaspoonful of baking-powder; beat three
yolks of eggs with a pinch of salt; add 1 pint of cream and 1
tablespoonful of melted butter. Stir in the flour; add the whites
beaten to a stiff froth. Beat all well together. Fill the muffin-rings
1/2 full and bake in a quick oven for twenty minutes.
25.--French Tart.
Make a rich pie-dough. Line a large pie-dish with the paste and bake.
Take 3 ounces of almonds and pound to a paste; add 3 tablespoonfuls of
pulverized sugar, 2 tablespoonfuls of melted butter, 1/2 teaspoonful
of cinnamon and the yolks of 2 eggs well beaten with 1 tablespoonful
of rum. Add the beaten whites; fill the pie and bake in a moderate
oven. Then make a glace. Mix 1 ounce of granulated sugar with 1
tablespoonful of cold water and let come to a boil. Put on the pie
when cool and serve.
26.--Polish Stewed Beans.
Break string-beans into pieces and let boil in salted water until
tender; then heat 1 tablespoonful of butter; stir in 1 tablespoonful
of flour until brown. Add the water in which the beans were cooked,
1/2 cup of vinegar, 1 tablespoonful of brown sugar, some cinnamon and
cloves to taste. Let sauce boil. Add the beans and simmer ten minutes.
Serve hot with a beef pot roast.
27.--Vienna Milk Rolls.
Sift 1-1/2 quarts of flour; add 1/2 teaspoonful of salt; work in a
large tablespoonful of butter; then stir in 1/2 cup of milk with a
piece of yeast dissolved in the milk and a teaspoonful of sugar. Beat
all up well with 1 pint of milk; let raise over night. Roll out an
inch thick; cut with a biscuit-cutter; rub with melted butter; lay in
a buttered baking-pan; let raise one hour; then bake in a hot oven
twenty minutes.
28.--Scotch Potato Stew.
Cut the potatoes into small dice pieces and fry in hot lard. Then fry
1 onion cut fine in hot butter, but do not brown; stir in some flour;
then add milk, salt, pepper and parsley. Let boil up once and add the
potatoes to the sauce. Let all get very hot and serve.
29.--Jewish Dumplings.
Soak 6 crackers in water; then press dry. Fry 1 chopped onion in
butter and pour over the crackers. Add 3 eggs and chopped parsley;
sprinkle with salt, pepper and nutmeg. Mix all with some cracker-meal
until you can form into balls and boil in salted water until done.
Serve hot with melted butter poured over them, and garnish
with parsley.
30.--Italian Soup.
Chop some cabbage and let fry in 2 tablespoonfuls of butter; add 1/2
cup of rice (dry) and 1 clove of garlic chopped with 1/2 small onion.
Let fry a few minutes; then add 2 quarts of soup-stock seasoned with
salt, white pepper and a little saffron to taste. Add 1/2 cup of
grated Parmesan cheese; let all cook until done. Serve with
toasted croutons.
1.--Turkish Puree.
Boil 1 cup of lentils with 1 bay-leaf, 2 sprigs of parsley, a pinch of
salt and pepper to taste; add some mace and cook until tender. Then
fry 1 chopped onion in 2 tablespoonfuls of olive-oil; add the lentils
and 1 cup of cooked rice and 1 tablespoonful of butter. Stir well
together and let get very hot. Put on a platter and pour over a highly
seasoned tomato-sauce and serve. Garnish with fried parsley.
2.--Jewish Kugel.
Soak 1/2 loaf of bread in water; then press it dry. Heat 1/2 cup of
butter and mix with the bread; add 2 chopped apples, 1/2 cup of
raisins, 1/2 cup of pounded almonds and the grated peel of a lemon.
Add the yolks of 4 eggs and the whites beaten to a stiff froth; mix
well together. Put in a buttered pudding-dish and pour over 1/2 cup of
melted butter; let bake in a moderate oven until brown. Serve hot.
3.--English Muffins.
Take 1 quart of warm milk, 1/2 cup of yeast, 1 teaspoonful of salt and
flour enough to make a stiff batter; let stand to raise until light.
Then add 1/2 cup of melted butter, 1 teaspoonful of soda dissolved in
a little water; add enough flour to make a very stiff batter and let
raise half an hour. Then fill well-greased muffin-rings half full with
the batter and bake in a quick oven until done. Serve with butter.
4.--Spanish Roast Veal.
Season a 6-pound veal-roast with salt and pepper and rub well with
butter; put in the dripping-pan with one large sliced onion, 1
bay-leaf, 2 sprigs of parsley and 2 of thyme and sage. Add 1/2
teaspoonful each of cloves, allspice and mace. Pour in 1 cup of hot
water and the juice of a lemon and dredge with flour; add a
tablespoonful of butter. Let bake until brown and tender. Baste often
with the sauce and serve.
5.--Madras Stewed Chicken.
Cut a spring chicken into pieces at the joints; season with salt and
pepper and fry in hot lard with some tender mutton chops. Fry 1 sliced
onion in hot butter with 2 ounces of rice, 1 teaspoonful of
curry-powder and 1 chopped apple; add to the chicken. Moisten with 1
quart of chicken broth, season to taste and let simmer until the
chicken and mutton are very tender; then add 1 pint of hot oysters and
the juice of 1/2 lemon. Let all get very hot and serve on a platter
with fried egg-plant.
6.--Irish Beef Rolls.
Chop some fat beef with 1 onion and 2 sprigs of parsley. Season with
salt, pepper, nutmeg and a little mace to taste and the grated rind of
1/2 lemon, 1 beaten egg and 1/2 cup of fine bread-crumbs. Mix all well
together and shape into rolls. Then heat some dripping in a saucepan;
lay in the rolls; cover and let simmer until brown. Serve hot with
7.--Norwegian Fruit Pudding.
Boil 1 pint of raspberries and 1 pint of red currants in 2 cups of
water until soft; add 3 cups of sugar, some cinnamon, 1 cup of pounded
almonds and 1 tablespoonful of chopped citron. Let cook and mash until
smooth; then thicken with a little cornstarch. Remove from the fire
and pour into a mold. When cold, serve with whipped cream.
8.--Spanish Puffs.
Put a large cupful of water in a saucepan; add 2 ounces of butter, 1/4
teaspoonful of salt, 1 tablespoonful of pulverized sugar. While
boiling, stir in sifted flour until stiff and smooth. Remove from the
stove and stir in the yolks of 4 eggs, one at a time, and the beaten
whites; then fry by the teaspoonful in boiling lard until browned.
Serve with a caramel sauce.
9.--Belgian Veal Scallop.
Chop cooked veal to a fine mince; butter a baking-dish and put
alternate layers of veal, rice and tomato-sauce until dish is full.
Cover over with fine bread-crumbs; pour over some melted butter and
let bake in the oven until brown. Serve with French peas.
10.--Parisian Chicken.
Clean and season 2 spring chickens. Put them in a saucepan with 3
tablespoonfuls of butter; cover and let simmer until brown. Add 1/2
can of mushrooms, chopped parsley, and 1 glass of wine; let all cook
until done. Put on a platter and pour over 1 cup of hot cream. Serve,
garnished with croutons.
11.--German Boiled Noodles.
Make a stiff noodle-dough; roll out very thin and cut into ribbons
half an inch wide. Let them dry and boil in salted water; drain in a
colander. Fry some sliced onions in butter until soft; add the
noodles. Stir and serve hot with stewed chicken.
12.--Dutch Baked Fish.
Clean and split a fish open down the back; remove the backbone;
sprinkle with salt and pepper; put in a baking-dish, flesh side up.
Put flakes of butter on top; sprinkle with a little flour; moisten
with cream. Bake in a hot oven until brown. Pour over a Hollandaise
sauce and serve hot.
13.--Vienna Cheese Torte.
Mix 1 cup of cottage cheese with 1 tablespoonful of cream, 1
tablespoonful of flour, 1 tablespoonful of butter, 3 tablespoonfuls of
sugar, the yolks of 3 eggs, and a pinch of salt and cinnamon. Mix all
together with the whites beaten stiff; then line muffin-rings with a
rich pastry-dough; fill with the cheese and bake in a moderate oven
until brown.
14.--Hungarian Fried Noodles.
Beat 3 eggs with 2 tablespoonfuls of water; add a pinch of salt and
enough flour to make a stiff dough work well. Then roll out as thin as
paper; fold the dough and cut into round pieces; fry in deep hot lard
to a golden brown. Serve hot with stewed chicken.
15.--Belgian Roast Lamb.
Season 4 pounds of lamb with salt, pepper and lemon-juice; put in the
dripping-pan with 2 small chopped onions, 1 bay-leaf, 2 sprigs of
parsley and thyme; then pour over 1/2 cup of butter and dredge with
flour. Add a cup of hot water and the juice of a lemon. Let bake in a
hot oven until done. Serve with French peas.
16.--Russian Salad.
Chop 1/2 pound of cold roast veal with 1/4 pound of smoked salmon, 3
sour pickles, 2 sour apples, 1 large onion, some beans and capers and
3 hard-boiled eggs chopped fine. Add some chopped nuts. Season and
pour over a mayonnaise dressing. Garnish with sliced beets and olives;
17.--French Rolls.
Prepare the dough as for bread. Work in 1/4 pound of butter and 1/4
pound of sugar. Add 4 beaten eggs; form into rolls; put in a
well-buttered baking-pan; let them raise half an hour. Brush the tops
with beaten egg and let bake until done.
18.--German Herring Salad.
Soak herrings over night in cold water; remove the milch; cut off the
head and skin and cut the herring into small pieces; add 2 apples, 2
pickles, 3 hard-boiled eggs, 1 onion, a few olives, all cut fine. Put
into bowl; mash the milch with a little mustard, 1 teaspoonful of
sugar, pepper and salt. Add 1/4 cupful of vinegar and mix all well
together. Garnish with sliced lemon, and serve with boiled potatoes.
19.--Belgian Fried Calf's Feet.
Clean and boil the calf's feet until tender; season with salt and
pepper. Remove the large bones from the feet; beat 2 eggs with salt
and pepper; dip the feet in the beaten eggs; then roll in fine
bread-crumbs and fry in deep hot lard until brown. Serve hot with
tomato-sauce.
20.--Italian Ice Cream.
Whip 1 quart of cream with 2 cupfuls of sugar until stiff. Put in the
freezer until half frozen; then add the juice and grated peel of 2
lemons, 2 tablespoonfuls of fine brandy, and a little pistache
coloring. Let freeze until hard and serve with cake.
21.--French Chocolate Biscuits.
Beat the yolks of 6 eggs with 10 ounces of powered sugar; add 1 ounce
of powdered French chocolate. Mix well with 4 ounces of flour and the
whites beaten stiff with a pinch of salt; add 1 tablespoonful of
vanilla extract. Bake on wafer sheets in small cakes to a light brown.
22.--India Canapes.
Cut slices of bread into delicate circles and toast in butter; then
take 1 ounce of chutney and 2 ounces of grated Parmesan cheese; spread
the toast with ham and the chutney and sprinkle with grated cheese.
Set in the oven a few minutes and serve hot, garnished with
fried parsley.
23.--Chicken a la Tartare.
Season and stew 2 spring chickens with 1 onion, some capers, parsley,
1 bay-leaf and 2 sprigs of thyme chopped fine until tender. Remove the
chickens; add 1 tablespoonful of minced pickles, 1 teaspoonful of made
mustard, 1 teaspoonful of tarragon and 1/2 cup of mayonnaise sauce.
Let boil up and pour over the chickens. Serve with boiled rice.
24.--Jewish Pudding.
Soak 6 matzoth crackers in water; press dry and mix with 1
tablespoonful of butter, a pinch of salt, the yolks of 5 eggs, a small
cup of sugar, some cinnamon, 1/2 cup of raisins and a little grated
lemon peel. Add the beaten whites and bake until brown. Serve with
25.--German Potato Pancakes.
Peel 3 large potatoes and lay in salted water half an hour; then grate
the potatoes; add pepper, salt, 3 eggs and a large spoonful of flour.
Beat well together and fry in hot lard by the tablespoonful until
light brown. Serve hot with a pot roast.
26.--English Roast Veal.
Season a veal loin roast with salt and pepper and rub with butter. Put
in the dripping-pan with sliced onions, tomatoes and parsley and 2
tablespoonfuls of dripping. Let roast; baste often until tender. Serve
hot or cold, cut into thin slices.
27.--Russian Rice Pudding.
Mix cold boiled rice with the juice and rind of a lemon, 1 cup of
sugar and 1/2 glass of fine rum; then press into a mold. Let get very
cold and serve with cold cooked fruit.
28.--Scotch Pudding.
Take 2 quart of black cherries; remove the stones and mix with 1/2
pound of fine bread-crumbs, some chopped nuts, the beaten yolks of 4
eggs and 1/2 cup of sugar. Add the whites beaten stiff. Bake in a
well-buttered pudding-dish and serve cold.
29.--Italian Potato Balls.
Peel and boil potatoes in salted water until soft; drain, and mash
smooth. Take a pint of the mashed potatoes; mix with 2 tablespoonfuls
of melted butter and 1 egg; add a little flour, and form into balls.
Put them into a well-buttered baking-pan; sprinkle with grated
Parmesan cheese and bake in a quick oven to a golden brown. Serve with
stewed chicken.
30.--Belgian Veal Cutlets.
Season veal cutlets; dip in beaten egg and roll in fine bread-crumbs.
Fry in deep hot lard; keep hot. Chop a few onions with a clove of
garlic and fry in a tablespoonful of butter. Stir in 1 tablespoonful
of flour until brown; add a little water and the juice of a lemon,
salt, pepper and nutmeg to taste. Let boil well; then remove from the
fire; stir in the yolks of 2 eggs, and let get very hot; pour over the
chops. Serve with French peas.
31.--French Lemon Cookies.
Beat the yolks of 4 eggs; add 1 cup of butter and 3 cups of sugar
beaten. Add the whites beaten stiff and a teaspoonful of lemon
extract. Add enough flour with a teaspoonful of baking-powder to make
a stiff dough. Roll out thin; cut into small cookies and bake in a
quick oven to a light brown.
1.--Italian Stuffed Tomatoes.
Cut tomatoes in halves; take out some of the pulp. Fry 1 large onion
in butter, add the tomato pulp, a piece of beef-marrow, 2 sprigs of
chopped parsley, salt and pepper. Remove from the fire; add a beaten
egg and mix with bread-crumbs and a pinch of nutmeg. Then fill the
tomatoes, sprinkle with buttered bread-crumbs and bake until done.
Serve on a platter with poached eggs. Garnish with croutons.
2.--English Salad.
Pick, wash and drain 2 heads of lettuce and break into pieces. Mix
with some watercress, shredded celery and a few leaves of mint. Put in
a salad bowl, sprinkle with salt, pepper, sugar and lemon-juice and
pour over a salad-dressing. Garnish with slices of hard-boiled eggs
and pickled beet-root.
3.--Scotch Stuffed Eggs.
Boil eggs until hard; remove the shells. Cut out the centres
lengthwise; then chop cooked chicken to a fine mince; add the yolk of
a raw egg and mix with cream. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Fill the eggs and dip them in beaten eggs and fine bread-crumbs and
fry a light brown. Serve hot with cream sauce. Garnish with parsley.
4.--Oriental Vegetable Curry.
Peel and fry some small onions. Add 2 stalks of celery, cut into inch
pieces; sprinkle with salt, pepper and curry-powder; add a few
truffles and pour over all 1 cup of stock. Let stew until tender. Then
boil some potatoes; mash smooth with butter and season with curry
sauce. Place a border of mashed potatoes on a platter and put the stew
in the centre; serve hot. Garnish with fried parsley.
5.--Chinese Noodle Soup.
Boil a large hen in 3 quarts of water. Add a few slices of ham, 1
onion sliced, some sliced mushrooms, 2 stalks of celery cut fine, 2
tomatoes and Chinese chopped herbs. Let cook three hours and strain;
then boil up; add fine noodles and let cook ten minutes. Add chopped
parsley and serve at once.
6.--Hindu Eggs.
Slice some hard-boiled eggs and place in a well-buttered baking-dish.
Cover with well-beaten raw eggs; sprinkle with salt, pepper, cayenne
and curry-powder, a few bits of butter rolled in bread-crumbs and some
grated cheese. Let bake in a moderate oven until done.
7.--Portugal Veal Stew.
Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of olive-oil in a stew-pan; add 2 sliced onions,
a clove of garlic and a few capers. Let fry a few minutes. Stir in 1
tablespoonful of flour until brown; add 1/2 cup of stock; season with
salt, pepper, cinnamon, cloves and a pinch of saffron. Add 1 cup of
white wine; let boil; then add cooked veal sliced thin. Let cook ten
minutes in the sauce and serve very hot.
8.--Italian Coffee Cream.
Mix 1-1/2 cups of strong coffee with 1/2 cup of rich milk in a double
boiler; add 1/2 cup of sugar, 1 tablespoonful of gelatin and a pinch
of salt. Then stir in the yolks of 3 eggs beaten with 1/2 cup of sugar
until it thickens. Remove from the fire; add the whites beaten to a
froth and a teaspoonful of vanilla. Pack in a mold and freeze until
hard and serve with whipped cream.
9.--Scotch Rarebit.
Cut 1/2 pound of cheese in very small pieces and add 1 ounce of fresh
butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of fine bread-crumbs, 1 teaspoonful of
prepared mustard, salt and pepper and a pinch of cayenne to taste. Mix
well together to a smooth paste. Have ready some buttered toast; place
on a dish, spread with the mixture and set in the oven until melted.
Serve at once.
10.--Irish Ham Omelet.
Beat 6 yolks of eggs with a pinch of salt; add the whites beaten stiff
and mix with a tablespoonful of cream. Beat 2 ounces of butter in an
omelet pan; add the beaten eggs and shake the pan to spread evenly.
Have ready some finely minced ham. Spread on half of the omelet, fold
and serve at once on a hot dish.
11.--Jewish Stewed Tongue.
Boil a calf's tongue in salted water until tender; skin and slice
thin. Then heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter; add 1 chopped onion; stir
in 1 tablespoonful of flour until brown; add 2 cups of the water in
which the tongue was cooked, 1/4 cup of seeded raisins, a few cloves,
1 bay-leaf, 1/4 cup of vinegar, and 1/2 teaspoonful of paprica. Let
all boil well; then add the sliced tongue. Let simmer ten minutes.
Serve hot or cold.
12.--French Prune Souffle.
Cook 1/2 pound of prunes until soft; remove the stones and cut the
prunes into small pieces. Mix with some chopped nuts and the yolks of
3 eggs well beaten with 3 tablespoonfuls of pulverized sugar. Add 1
teaspoonful of vanilla and the whites of the eggs beaten stiff. Put in
a pudding-dish and bake in a moderate oven for ten minutes and serve.
13.--Italian Cooked Eggs.
Take 6 hard-boiled eggs and cut lengthwise. Put in a pan with 12
anchovies, some onion juice and 1 tablespoonful of finely chopped
parsley. Season with salt, white pepper and a little nutmeg, grated.
Then pour over all 1/2 pint of sour cream. Let boil up once and serve
hot with croutons.
14.--Spanish Broiled Steak.
Season a porter-house steak with salt and pepper and rub with butter.
Place on a hot gridiron and let broil on a quick fire on both sides.
Make this sauce: Chop 1 onion and brown in 1 tablespoonful of butter;
add 1/2 cup of stock and 1/2 cup of claret; let boil well. Season and
thicken the sauce with a little flour and some chopped parsley. Let
boil up and serve at once with the steak.
15.--Liver a la Bourgogne.
Season a calf's liver with salt and pepper; put a few slices of bacon
in a saucepan; let get very hot. Add the liver, 1 onion, 1 carrot, 2
bay-leaves and 2 sprigs of thyme minced fine; cover and let brown a
few minutes. Then add 1 glass of sherry wine, salt and pepper and
sprinkle with flour. Let simmer ten minutes. Serve hot with potatoes.
16.--Messina Macaroni.
Boil some macaroni in salted water until tender. Then fry 1 onion and
2 cloves of garlic chopped in olive-oil. Add 1 cup of tomato-sauce,
salt and pepper to taste. Then add the macaroni, and let fry
altogether. Serve hot with baked chicken.
17.--Dutch Prune Pudding.
Boil prunes until very soft; remove the stones. Mash well; add the
yolks of 4 beaten eggs, 3 tablespoonfuls of sugar, 1 cup of
bread-crumbs, 1 teaspoonful of vanilla, 1/2 cup of chopped nuts, and
the whites of the eggs beaten stiff. Put in a well-buttered
pudding-dish and bake in a moderate oven until done. Serve cold.
18.--Irish Beef Stew.
Season a piece of fat beef; put in a stew-pan with some hot water. Let
cook slowly a half hour. Then add 3 potatoes, cut in dice pieces, and
1 onion, sliced. Let cook slowly until tender. Add 1/2 cup of corn and
1 cup of tomatoes; season with salt and pepper. Let all cook until
done. Serve hot.
19.--English Creamed Asparagus.
Cut tough ends from the asparagus; scrape and boil in salted water
until tender. Make a cream sauce. When done, stir in the yolk of an
egg; season with a little white pepper. The sauce must be rather thick
and poured hot over the asparagus. Serve with veal chops.
20.--French Float.
Line a glass dish with stale sponge-cake. Sprinkle with wine. Make a
boiled custard. Use 4 yolks of eggs and flavor with rose-water. Beat
the whites with pulverized sugar and flavor to taste. Pour the custard
over the cake and place the stiffly beaten whites on top. Put on the
ice and serve very cold.
21.--Russian Pot Roast.
Season a round of beef with salt, pepper, cloves and nutmeg. Put in a
saucepan on hot dripping. Peel 6 small onions and slice 2 carrots and
2 cloves of garlic. Add to the meat with 1 herb bouquet. Cover with 1
cup of hot water and let cook slowly until tender; then add 1/2 can of
chopped mushrooms, 1 glass of claret, salt and pepper to taste. Serve
hot on a border of mashed potatoes.
22.--Spanish Salad.
Take 1/2 pound of chopped chicken, 1/4 pound of almonds, 1 red pepper,
1 Spanish onion and 1 head of chicory chopped fine. Mix in a salad
bowl with 1/4 teaspoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of curry-powder, 2
tablespoonfuls of tarragon vinegar, 4 tablespoonfuls of olive-oil.
Garnish with sliced beets and bananas.
23.--Scotch Baked Potatoes.
Peel and slice 6 raw potatoes very thin; then beat 1 egg with 1
tablespoonful of butter. Put the potatoes into a shallow baking-dish,
sprinkle well with salt and pepper. Add enough milk to cover the
potatoes; add the beaten egg. Sprinkle 1/2 cup of grated cheese over
all and let bake until done.
24.--German Apple Cake.
Make a biscuit dough; roll out very thin and put on a well-buttered
cake-pan. Have ready some apples. Cut in quarters; lay closely on the
cake; sprinkle thick with brown sugar; add some cinnamon and a handful
of currants. Pour some fresh melted butter over the cake; set in the
oven to bake until done. Serve with coffee.
25.--English Ham Sandwiches.
Cut thin slices of fresh bread. Chop ham with the yolks of 2
hard-boiled eggs; add some made mustard and fresh butter and a dash of
pepper. Mix all well and spread between the slices of bread. Serve on
a folded napkin and garnish with sprigs of parsley.
26.--Swiss Peach Custard.
Line a well-buttered pudding-dish with slices of sponge-cake and cover
with peach compote. Make an egg custard and cover with the custard;
set in the oven to bake. Beat the whites of 2 eggs with a little
lemon-juice and pulverized sugar spread on the top and let brown.
27.--French Veal Hash.
Cut veal round-steak into small pieces. Then fry some chopped bacon, 1
onion and 2 cloves of garlic chopped; add the meat; stir well and let
all fry a few minutes. Add 1 cup of boiling water and let cook slowly
with some parsley and thyme, salt, pepper, until tender. Add a
tablespoonful of vinegar. Let boil up; remove from the fire and stir
in the yolks of 2 eggs well beaten. Serve hot with toast.
28.--Vienna Potato Salad.
Slice boiled potatoes thin; chop some onion very fine; slice 2
hard-boiled eggs and mix. Sprinkle all with salt and pepper. Then heat
some vinegar. Add a teaspoonful of made mustard and stir with the
beaten yolk of an egg. Mix all together with 1 tablespoonful of hot
butter and chopped parsley. Serve with cold meats.
29.--French Baked Omelet.
Beat 4 yolks of eggs; add 6 soda crackers crushed fine, salt, pepper,
1 teaspoonful of grated onion, 1 tablespoonful of butter and 1 cup of
milk. Beat up well; add the whites beaten stiff; put into a
well-buttered baking-dish and let bake in a hot oven. Serve at once.
30.--Italian Batter Cakes.
Beat 3 yolks of eggs with 1 cup of milk, a Salt-spoonful of salt, 1
tablespoonful of olive-oil and 1 tablespoonful of sugar. Mix with 1/2
cup of flour and the beaten whites of the eggs. Fry until light brown.
Serve with cooked fruit.
1.--Portugal Iced Pudding.
Mix 1 quart of vanilla ice-cream with 1 gill of wine, 1/4 pound of
Malaga grapes, 2 ounces of candied orange peel, chopped fine, and 1
pint of whipped cream. Then place in the freezer to harden and serve.
2.--English Chicken Salad.
Mix 1 cup of cold chicken cut fine with 1 cup of chopped celery, 1 cup
of cooked chestnuts chopped and 2 green peppers cut fine. Season with
salt and pepper. Put on crisp lettuce leaves in the salad bowl; cover
with a mayonnaise dressing. Serve cold.
3.--Turkish Stewed Lamb.
Season a quarter of a young lamb and cut into pieces. Lay in a large
stew-pan and cover with hot water. Add 1 sliced onion, 2 sliced green
peppers and 2 tomatoes, 1 red pepper and 2 sprigs of parsley. Let stew
slowly until tender. Then fry thin slices of egg-plant and add to the
stew. Serve hot.
4.--Irish Apple Pudding.
Pare and slice apples and lay them in a buttered pie-dish. Sprinkle
with brown sugar; add the juice and rind of 1/2 of a lemon, a pinch of
cinnamon and cloves. Then cover with a rich pie-paste and let bake
5.--Indian Rice.
Boil 1 cup of rice in chicken broth; add a pinch of curry-powder and
season to taste with salt and pepper. Boil 1/2 teaspoonful of saffron
in 1 cup of the stock; then let all cook slowly until the broth is
entirely absorbed by the rice. Serve very hot.
6.--Hungarian Chicken Soup.
Boil a large chicken in 3 quarts of water; season with salt, sage and
pepper; add 1 onion chopped and cook until tender. Remove the chicken
and chop it fine; then add to the soup with the yolks of 3 well-beaten
eggs; let all get very hot. Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve
7.--Yorkshire Pudding.
Beat 3 eggs with a pinch of salt; add 1 pint of milk and 2/3 of a cup
of flour. Stir until smooth. Then pour into a well-greased pan and
bake until done. Serve with English roast-beef, and pour over
8.--Portugal Salad.
Slice 2 cucumbers, 2 tomatoes, 1 onion and two green peppers. Then
sprinkle with 1 chopped clove of garlic, salt and pepper and cover
with some thin slices of bread. Pour over all a cup of vinegar and 1/4
cup of olive-oil and serve.
9.--English Chocolate Pudding.
Soak 6 ounces of bread-crumbs in milk and press dry; add 2 ounces of
butter mixed with 3 ounces of sugar and 3 ounces of chocolate; add the
yolks of 6 eggs well beaten, and flavor with a teaspoonful of vanilla;
add the whites beaten to a stiff froth. Bake in a quick oven and
serve at once.
10.--Spanish Canapes.
Prepare circular pieces of buttered toast. Then mix 1 cup of chopped
fish with 3 sweet pickles minced fine, and 2 tablespoonfuls of Madras
chutney; moisten with 2 tablespoonfuls of Hollandaise sauce. Spread
this mixture over 8 pieces of toast; sprinkle with 3 tablespoonfuls of
grated Parmesan cheese. Let bake for five minutes and serve.
11.--French Strawberry Pudding.
Dip enough macaroons in wine to line the pudding-dish; cover with
sweetened strawberries. Beat the yolks of 4 eggs with sugar and flavor
with vanilla; pour over the strawberries; put in the oven to bake.
Beat the whites to a stiff froth with some pulverized sugar; put on
top of the pudding and let brown. Serve cold.
12.--Veal Croquettes a la Reine.
Chop cold veal. Mix with some sweetbread and mushrooms chopped. Season
with salt, pepper and lemon-juice. Add a sprig of parsley and a little
onion chopped fine. Mix with a beaten egg and bread-crumbs; sprinkle
with nutmeg. Form into croquettes. Dip in beaten egg and fine
bread-crumbs and fry in deep hot lard. Serve hot with a cream sauce.
13.--German Cheese Pie.
Line a pie-plate with a rich pie-dough. Mix 1 cup of cottage cheese
with 1 tablespoonful of butter, 1/4 cup of sugar, 2 eggs, a pinch of
salt and a few currants. Mix well. Fill the pie. Sprinkle with sugar
and cinnamon and bake until light brown. Serve hot or cold.
14.--Italian Veal Pates.
Chop cooked veal with some onion, parsley, thyme and 1 clove of
garlic; season with salt, pepper and nutmeg. Add some chopped ham,
lemon-juice and 2 eggs. Mix with bread-crumbs and melted butter. Fill
into small pate shells; rub with butter and beaten egg. Place a paper
over the top and let bake in a moderate oven. Serve with tomato-sauce.
15.--Hungarian Noodle Pudding.
Boil finely cut noodles in salted water drain and mix with the yolks
of 5 eggs, 1/2 cup of raisins, sugar, cinnamon, and grated lemon peel
to taste. Add the beaten whites. Line the pudding-dish with a rich
pie-paste. Fill with the noodles and pour over some melted butter.
Bake until brown. Serve hot with lemon sauce.
16.--Polish Stewed Chicken.
Clean a fat hen and cut into pieces at the joints; season and let stew
with 2 sliced onions, 2 carrots and 1 potato, cut into dice pieces.
When nearly done, add 1 cup of sauerkraut, 2 tablespoonfuls of sorrel
and 1/2 cup of wine. Let cook until tender and serve on a platter with
cooked rice.
17.--Madras Curried Apples.
Peel and core 4 sour apples and cut into rings; then sprinkle with
curry-powder and let fry until tender. Add a few thinly cut shallots.
Cover and let simmer until done. Serve on a platter with boiled rice
and pour over a curry sauce.
18.--Irish Batter Cakes.
Beat the yolks of 4 eggs; add a pinch of salt, 1 tablespoonful of
melted butter, 1 small cup of milk and sifted flour enough to make a
smooth batter. Beat well. Add the whites of eggs, beaten stiff and let
fry a golden color; then spread with jam and serve hot.
19.--Spanish Baked Eggs.
Poach eggs as soft as possible. Butter a baking-dish; add a layer of
bread-crumbs and grated cheese. Place the eggs on the crumbs; sprinkle
with salt, pepper, grated cheese and chopped parsley. Cover with
bread-crumbs and pour over some cream sauce. Let bake in a hot oven
until brown on top. Serve with toast.
20.--Scotch Stewed Onions.
Boil 1 dozen small onions and 4 leeks in salted water until tender;
drain. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter. Stir in 1 tablespoonful of
flour until smooth but not brown; then add 1/2 pint of rich milk;
season highly with pepper, and salt to taste. Add the onions; let boil
up and serve.
21.--German Baked Cabbage.
Take a large cabbage; remove the outer leaves and the inside, leaving
a frame. Chop all the cabbage from the inside and fry in hot grease
with 1 sliced onion. Remove from the fire. Mix well with bread-crumbs
and 1/2 cup of chopped ham, 2 eggs, salt, black pepper and cayenne.
Refill the cabbage; put on the outside leaves; cover the top with
leaves. Put in a baking-pan; sprinkle with bits of butter and pour in
1/2 cup of water. Let bake until brown. Serve hot.
22.--Dutch Veal Stew.
Season 3 pounds of veal with salt, pepper and lemon-juice. Put a few
slices of bacon in a stew-pan; when hot, add the veal. Cover and let
brown a few minutes; then add 2 carrots and 1 onion sliced thin, some
thyme and mace; pour over 1 cup of hot water. Cover and let cook
slowly until tender. Thicken with flour mixed with 1/2 cup of milk.
Add chopped parsley; season to taste and serve with baked potatoes.
23.--French Baked Apple Dumplings.
Peel and core apples; sprinkle well with sugar. Then mix some cold
boiled rice with 1 egg, a pinch of salt, sugar and cinnamon, flour
enough to make a dough. Cover the apples with the dough; put in a
well-buttered baking-dish with 2 tablespoonfuls of butter and bake to
a delicate brown. Serve with whipped cream.
24.--Bavarian Fried Brains.
Clean and boil the brains in salted water; add 1 onion sliced; let
cook ten minutes. Remove the brains and mash up well with 1
tablespoonful of butter, some bread-crumbs and parsley chopped, salt
and pepper to taste; add 2 eggs. Mix together and fry in deep hot lard
by the tablespoonful until brown. Serve with tomato-sauce.
25.--Polish Bread Pudding.
Soak 1 pint of bread in a quart of milk; add the yolks of 4 eggs, 1
cup of sugar, 2 tablespoonfuls of melted butter, 1/2 cup of raisins,
1/2 cup of currants, the juice of 1/2 lemon. Mix well and bake until
brown; then beat the whites to a stiff froth with 3 tablespoonfuls of
pulverized sugar. Spread the pudding with jelly and cover with the
beaten whites; set in the oven to brown.
26.--Vienna Cherry Cake.
Make a rich biscuit dough; roll out; then put on a well-buttered
baking-tin. Stone black cherries. Sprinkle the dough with flour and
cover with the cherries. Sprinkle with sugar and let bake until done.
Then cover with a sweetened egg custard and bake until brown.
27.--Belgian Poached Eggs.
Cut thin round slices of bread and toast them. Spread with chopped
anchovies and chopped ham. Cover the top with whipped whites of eggs
and place a raw yoke on each slice of bread. Set in the oven to bake
long enough to heat the egg, and serve at once.
28.--Bavarian Apple Pie.
Line a deep pie-dish with rich pie-paste. Let bake and fill with
chopped apples, raisins and chopped nuts, sugar and a pinch of
cinnamon and nutmeg. Then cover with cake-crumbs and let bake until
done. Beat 3 whites of eggs with pulverized sugar; flavor with lemon
and spread over the pudding. Set in the oven a few minutes to brown
29.--Russian Fried Sweetbreads.
Clean and season the sweetbreads with salt and pepper and sprinkle
with lemon-juice and chopped parsley. Roll in fine bread-crumbs and
fry in hot lard. Fry some eggs and put on a platter with the
sweetbreads and serve with tomato-sauce.
30.--Polish Apple Dumpling.
Peel and core the apples and fill the space with currants. Sprinkle
with sugar, cinnamon and grated lemon peel, and cover each apple with
a rich pie-paste. Lay on a well-buttered pie-dish and let bake until
done. Serve with wine sauce.
31.--Swiss Potato Dumpling.
Boil 6 potatoes, then grate them. Mix with 2 tablespoonfuls of flour
and 2 tablespoonfuls of butter and 3 eggs. Make into a soft dough;
roll out and then spread with fried bread-crumbs. Make into round
dumplings and let boil twenty minutes. Serve hot with melted butter
poured over.
1.--German Pot Roast.
Take a 5-pound beef roast. Rub with salt and black pepper and paprica;
pour over some boiling vinegar; add 2 bay-leaves, a few peppercorns
and cloves. Let stand over night. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of dripping in
a saucepan; lay in the meat with 2 sliced onions. Let stew slowly with
one cup of water and 1/2 cup of the spiced vinegar until tender.
Thicken the sauce with flour and serve hot with potato pancakes.
2.--Scotch Soup.
Cut a sheep's liver into pieces and stew with the sheep's head in 4
quarts of water. Add sliced onions, sliced leeks, carrots, turnips,
parsley and thyme, salt, pepper and a few cloves. Let all cook until
tender; then strain. Let stand until cool. Skim off the fat; heat and
mix with flour until brown; let boil. Add a glass of white wine. Cook
all together and serve hot.
3.--Spanish Fried Potatoes.
Peel some new potatoes and cook until tender. Mix some fine
bread-crumbs with grated Parmesan cheese and chopped parsley. Beat 2
eggs with salt and pepper; dip each potato in beaten egg and roll in
the bread-crumbs. Fry in deep hot lard until brown. Serve hot.
4.--French Frozen Milk Punch.
Sweeten 1 quart of milk with 2 cupfuls of sugar; let come to a boil.
Remove from the fire and grate in 1/2 nutmeg. When cool, freeze until
half frozen; then stir in 3 cupfuls of whipped cream and freeze again.
Add 1/2 cup of rum and 1 cupful of French brandy. Let freeze until
hard and serve.
5.--Bavarian Fruit Compote.
Cook 2 cups of water with 1 cup of wine. Add 1 cup of sugar and a
pinch of cinnamon and some strawberries, cherries and blackberries.
Let simmer in the juice until fruit is done. Put in a glass dish and
pour over the syrup. Serve cold.
6.--Vienna Rice Custard.
Boil 1/2 cup of rice in 1 quart of milk; add salt to taste; boil until
very soft. Beat the yolks of 3 eggs with 4 tablespoonfuls of sugar and
stir in the rice. Flavor with rose-water and put in a well-buttered
pudding-dish. Beat the whites with pulverized sugar to a stiff froth;
spread on the custard and let bake in the oven until done. Serve cold.
7.--French Fried Cucumbers.
Peel the cucumbers and cut into inch slices. Sprinkle with salt and
pepper and dip in beaten eggs and fine bread-crumbs. Season with salt
and pepper and fry in hot lard until brown. Serve with tomato-sauce
and veal chops.
8.--German Cherry Soup.
Boil 1 quart of cherries until soft; sweeten to taste. Add some grated
lemon peel, some cinnamon, 1 bottle of red wine and 2 bottles of
water. Serve ice-cold with macaroons.
9.--Swiss Pancakes.
Peel and grate 4 raw potatoes; mix with 1 ounce of butter, 1 ounce of
bread-crumbs, 1/4 pint of milk, 1 large tablespoonful of Swiss cheese,
the yolks of three eggs and the whites beaten stiff. Season with salt
and pepper and mix with 1 tablespoonful of flour to a smooth batter;
then fry in hot lard until brown. Serve hot.
10.--English Tarts.
Make a rich puff paste; roll out thin and cut into squares; then fill
with fruit jam; turn over and pinch in the edges. Drop in a kettle of
deep hot lard and fry until a delicate brown. Sprinkle with pulverized
sugar and serve hot.
11.--Norwegian Rice.
Cook rice until tender; then reheat in a well-seasoned chicken stock.
Put on a platter; sprinkle with chopped chicken liver, scrambled eggs
and grated cheese and serve at once.
12.--Spanish Broiled Kidney.
Take a fresh kidney; clean and cut into thin slices; run a skewer
through them to hold them together. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and
brush with butter; put on a broiler and cook for five minutes. Then
place on a platter; pour over some lemon-juice and hot butter;
sprinkle with parsley and serve at once.
13.--Egyptian Stuffed Peppers.
Cut off the tops and remove the seeds from large sweet peppers. Stuff
with chopped raw beef highly seasoned, and mix with chopped onion,
parsley, tomato, a beaten egg and 2 tablespoonfuls of chutney. Put the
stuffed peppers in a baking-pan with a little hot water; sprinkle with
bits of butter and let bake three-quarters of an hour. Serve. Garnish
with cucumber salad.
14.--English Tea Cakes.
Beat 1/4 pound of butter with 1/4 pound of sugar to a cream. Add 1 egg
and 1 teaspoonful each of cinnamon and mace. Mix with 6 ounces of
sifted flour, a pinch of salt and milk enough to make a stiff dough;
then roll out very thin. Cut into round cakes and bake in a quick oven
15.--Bavarian Cheese Cake.
Make a rich biscuit dough; roll out and place on a well-buttered
pie-dish. Then mix 1/2 pound of cottage cheese with a pinch of salt,
1/4 cup of melted butter, 1/2 cup of sugar, 1/2 lemon grated, 2 yolks
of eggs and 1/2 cup of currants; add the whites beaten stiff. Fill the
pie with the cheese. Serve hot or cold with coffee.
16.--Spanish Chicken.
Cut a spring chicken into pieces at the joints; season with salt and
pepper and fry until brown. Remove the chicken; add 1 onion, 2 cloves
of garlic chopped and 1 cup of tomato-sauce. Cover and let simmer;
then add the chicken with 1 glass of sherry wine. Cook ten minutes.
Serve hot with boiled rice.
17.--Polish Shrimp Salad.
Drain 1 cup of shrimps and 1 can of sardines; cut into small pieces.
Add 2 hard-boiled eggs, 1 small onion, a few capers and gherkins
chopped fine and chopped parsley. Mix with 1/4 cup of vinegar. Line
the salad bowl with the crisp lettuce leaves. Add the salad and pour
over a mayonnaise dressing and serve.
18.--Dutch Apple Pudding.
Peel and chop apples; mix with 1/2 cup of nuts, raisins, the juice and
rind of 1/2 lemon and 1 tablespoonful of brandy. Then add the yolks of
4 eggs and the whites beaten to a stiff froth. Let bake in a moderate
oven until done. Serve cold.
19.--Bavarian Potatoes.
Peel and cook some new potatoes with 1 sliced onion, salt and pepper,
until tender. Then brown 1 tablespoonful of flour in 2 teaspoonfuls of
butter; add 1/2 cup of water; let boil well with some chopped parsley,
salt and pepper; then add the potatoes and let simmer five minutes.
20.--Spanish Steak Roll.
Cut thin slices from the round steak; then chop 1 onion, 2 tomatoes,
some celery, parsley and 2 hard-boiled eggs and season with salt and
pepper. Mix with butter and fine bread-crumbs; then spread the mixture
on the steak, and roll up. Sprinkle with flour; lay closely in a pan
of hot dripping; cover and let simmer until tender. Serve hot,
garnished with olives and parsley.
21.--Oriental Cabbage.
Chop a small head of cabbage, then fry 1 onion and 2 sour apples
sliced thin. Add the chopped cabbage, 1/2 cup of stock and the juice
of 1/2 lemon; sprinkle with salt and cayenne pepper; add 1/2
teaspoonful of curry-powder. Cover and let all simmer until tender.
Serve very hot on a border of boiled rice.
22.--Dutch Salad.
Soak 3 Dutch herrings in milk; then cut off the heads and tails and
cut herrings into one-half inch pieces. Add 2 apples cut fine, 2
hard-boiled eggs sliced thin, some cooked beets cut fine, some celery
and green onions cut into very small pieces. Season and mix together.
Pour over some vinaigrette sauce, and sprinkle with chopped gherkins.
23.--Greek Cucumbers.
Peel large cucumbers; cut off the ends; scoop out the seeds; sprinkle
with salt. Then mix boiled rice with some chopped green onions and
stuff the cucumbers. Lay the cucumbers in a stew-pan; pour over 1 cup
of stock and the juice of a lemon; add 1 tablespoonful of butter, and
let cook until tender. Serve hot, and pour over a well-seasoned white
sauce. Garnish with parsley.
24.--Russian Beef Roll.
Chop 2 pounds of beef with 1/4 pound of suet; add 4 small onions, 2
cloves of garlic and 3 sprigs of parsley chopped fine. Season with
salt, pepper and nutmeg. Mix with some bread-crumbs and a beaten egg.
Shape into a roll and lay in a baking-dish; moisten with broth and let
bake until done. Serve on a platter with a border of mashed potatoes
and garnish with fried parsley.
25.--Jewish Veal Stew.
Cook 3 pounds of veal; when nearly done, add 2 cup of vinegar, 1/2 cup
of raisins, a pinch of cloves and cinnamon and a tablespoonful of
horseradish. Thicken the sauce with buttered bread-crumbs; season with
salt and pepper to taste. Serve with boiled rice.
26.--French Pop-overs.
Beat the yolks of 3 eggs until very light; add 1 pint of milk. Sift 1
pint of flour with 2 teaspoonfuls of baking powder; add 1/2
teaspoonful of salt and the whites of the eggs beaten to a stiff
froth. Flavor with rose-water. Mix well together and pour into hot
well-buttered cake-tins. Bake in a quick oven until a light brown.
Serve hot with French coffee.
27.--German Egg Toast.
Cut slices of stale bread; beat 3 eggs with a pinch of salt and 1/4
cup of milk. Dip the slices of bread in the beaten eggs and fry until
brown on both sides. Cover with pulverized sugar; sprinkle with
cinnamon and some finely chopped nuts. Serve hot.
28.--Irish Potato Puffs.
Peel and boil potatoes well seasoned; then mash thoroughly with a lump
of butter. Add some milk and 2 eggs; beat well until very light. Then
fry in deep hot lard by the tablespoonful until a light brown. Serve
hot with broiled steak.
29.--Belgian Eggs.
Take 4 eggs, 2 cups of milk, 4 tablespoonfuls of sugar, 1 teaspoonful
of flour. Beat whites separate; add flour to the yolks and sugar; beat
until stiff. Beat the whites and scald in milk; strain from the milk,
and set aside. Take the yolk, and stir gently in the milk until thick.
Remove from the fire. Place in a dish to cool. Flavor with vanilla and
then put the whites on top and serve.
30.--Irish Cucumber Salad.
Peel the cucumbers and slice thin; add 1 onion sliced. Sprinkle well
with salt; let stand half an hour on ice; press out all the water;
sprinkle with white pepper and chopped parsley. Add vinegar mixed with
sugar, to taste, and salad oil. Serve at once.
31.--German Iced Beer Soup.
Take one quart of fresh beer. Sweeten to taste and flavor with a pinch
of cinnamon and nutmeg. Slice a lemon very thin and put in the beer.
Let get very cold on ice and serve with sponge-cake.
_SEPTEMBER._
1.--Dutch Biscuits.
Make a soft biscuit dough; then put on a well-floured baking-board and
roll out one-half inch thick. Sprinkle with sugar, cinnamon and grated
lemon peel and pour over some melted butter. Then roll up the dough
and cut into inch thick slices; lay in a well-buttered baking-pan and
let bake in a hot oven until done.
2.--Hindoo Oyster Fritters.
Boil large oysters in their liquor; season with salt, pepper and
curry-powder. Let come to a boil; then drain, and spread the oysters
with highly seasoned minced chicken. Dip them in a seasoned egg batter
and fry in deep hot lard to a golden brown. Serve hot, garnished with
fried parsley and lemon slices.
3.--Jewish Chrimsel.
Soak 1/2 loaf of bread in milk; add 1 cup of sugar, 1/2 cup of
raisins, 1/2 cup of pounded nuts, the grated peel of a lemon and a
pinch of cinnamon. Then mix with the yolks of 4 eggs and the whites
beaten stiff and fry by the tablespoonful in hot fat until brown.
Serve hot with wine sauce.
4.--Spanish Relish.
Stone some large olives and fill the space with anchovy paste, mixed
with well-seasoned tomato-sauce. Then fry thin slices of bread and
spread with some of the paste. Place a filled olive in the centre;
sprinkle with chopped hard-boiled eggs and garnish with fillets of
anchovies and sprigs of parsley.
5.--French Orange Compote.
Make a syrup of sugar and water; add a little lemon-juice. Peel and
remove seeds of oranges; cut into quarters and lay them in the boiling
syrup; let cook ten minutes. Remove the oranges to a glass dish; pour
over the syrup and garnish with candied cherries.
6.--Spanish Baked Chicken.
Clean and season a chicken with salt and pepper and let boil until
tender. Put the chicken in a baking-dish; pour over some tomato-sauce
highly seasoned; sprinkle with well-buttered bread-crumbs and let bake
until brown. Place on a large platter with a border of boiled rice and
pour over the sauce. Serve hot.
7.--Swiss Beet Salad.
Boil red beets until tender; skin and cut into thin slices. Sprinkle
with salt, whole pepper, whole cloves, 2 bay-leaves and mix with wine
vinegar. Let stand. Serve the next day.
8.--Bombay Chicken Croquettes.
Boil a fat hen well seasoned with salt, pepper, 1 sliced onion, 2
green peppers and 2 cloves of garlic. Remove the chicken and chop fine
and mix with chopped parsley, the grated rind of 1/2 lemon, 1/2
teaspoonful of paprica and a pinch of nutmeg. Add a little chopped
tarragon and chervil and 2 beaten eggs. Mix with the sauce and form
into croquettes. Then dip into beaten eggs and fine bread-crumbs, and
fry in deep hot lard a golden brown. Serve hot. Garnish with fried
parsley and serve tomato-sauce in a separate dish, flavored with
chopped mango chutney.
9.--Swiss Veal Pie.
Cut cooked veal into small pieces; season and moisten with a rich beef
gravy. Pour into a deep pie-dish. Then make a cover with mashed
potatoes moistened with cream; sprinkle with bits of butter and let
bake until brown. Serve hot.
10.--Spanish Rice.
Fry 1 large chopped onion with 2 cups of tomatoes; add 1 cup of stock,
salt and pepper to taste. Cover and let simmer ten minutes; then add 2
cups of boiled rice. Mix well together with 1 tablespoonful of butter.
Let get very hot and serve.
11.--Polish Chicken Soup.
Cook a large fat chicken in 3 quarts of water; add 1 onion, 2 carrots
and 2 stalks of celery cut into small pieces and 1 cup of pearl
barley. Let all cook until tender. Remove the chicken; season the soup
to taste with salt and pepper; add some chopped parsley and serve hot
with the chicken.
12.--Norwegian Soup.
Boil a large fish in 2 quarts of water; season with salt and paprica.
Add 1 sliced onion, 2 leeks cut fine, 2 sprigs of parsley and 1
bay-leaf. Let cook well; then remove the fish. Add 1 tablespoonful of
butter and 1 quart of oysters. Let boil ten minutes. Add 1 cup of hot
cream; season to taste and serve very hot.
13.--Greek Cakes.
Mix 1/2 pound of butter and 1 cup of sugar to a cream; add 4
well-beaten eggs and the grated rind and juice of 1/2 lemon. Then stir
in 1/2 pound of flour and work into a smooth dough. Lay on a
well-floured baking-board and roll out thin. Cut into fancy shapes and
bake in a moderate oven until done. Cover with a white icing, flavored
with vanilla.
14.--Russian Sandwich.
Spread thin slices of rye bread with butter and caviare; some slices
of white bread with butter and thin slices of ham; some slices of
pumpernickel bread with butter and a layer of cottage cheese; and some
slices of brown bread with butter and cold cooked chicken sliced thin.
Put all into a press under a heavy weight for one hour; then cut into
perpendicular slices and serve.
15.--Spanish Dessert.
Dissolve 1/2 box of gelatin. Then cook 1 pint of milk; add 6
tablespoonfuls of sugar and stir in the yolks of 3 eggs. Mix all
together with the gelatin and the whites of eggs beaten to a stiff
froth; add 1 teaspoonful of vanilla. Pour into a mold and place on
ice. Serve with whipped cream.
16.--German Bread Tarte.
Take 1 cup of rye bread-crumbs and mix with the beaten yolks of 4
eggs, 1/2 cup of sugar, some pounded almonds, a pinch of cinnamon,
nutmeg and a piece of chocolate grated. Add 1 teaspoonful of
lemon-juice, 1 tablespoonful of brandy and 1 of wine. Beat the whites
to a stiff froth; add to the mixture. Put in a well-buttered
pudding-dish and bake until brown. Serve with wine sauce.
17.--Russian Stewed Fish.
Cut a white fish into pieces and salt well; let stand. Then cut 1
onion and 1 clove of garlic in thin slices; fry in 1 tablespoonful of
butter. Stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour until brown. Then fill the
pan with water and let boil. Add 1 teaspoonful of celery seed, 1
bay-leaf, a few cloves, a pinch of thyme and mace, 1/2 teaspoonful of
paprica and salt to taste. Let boil. Add the fish to the sauce;
sprinkle with black pepper and ginger and let cook until done. Remove
the fish to a platter. Beat the yolks of 2 eggs with a little water
and stir in the sauce with some chopped parsley. Let get very hot and
pour over the fish. Garnish with lemon slices and sprigs of parsley.
18.--German Liver Dumplings.
Chop 1/2 pound of liver; add 1 chopped onion, some parsley, salt,
pepper and a little nutmeg. Mix with 2 beaten eggs and 1 tablespoonful
of butter. Add enough bread-crumbs to form into small balls and boil
in soup-stock and serve with the soup.
19.--Jewish Sour Fish.
Season a trout and let cook with 1 sliced onion, 1 sliced lemon, 2
tablespoonfuls of vinegar, a few cloves and a pinch of pepper. Add
cinnamon, 1/4 cup of raisins and 1 tablespoonful of butter. When done,
remove to a platter. Add some brown sugar, lemon-juice and chopped
parsley to the sauce; let boil and pour over the fish. Serve cold.
Garnish with parsley.
20.--Compote de Bannanes.
Peel 1 dozen bananas and cut them in halves. Then cook 1/2 cup of
water with 1/2 pound of sugar; let boil ten minutes; then add the
juice of a lemon; let cook. Add the sliced bananas to the hot syrup
and stew slowly until done. Remove the bananas to a dish and pour over
the syrup. Serve very cold for dessert.
21.--English Peach Pie.
Make a rich pie-crust and let bake until done. Peel and chop some
peaches and mix with sugar to taste. Fill the pie with the peaches;
let bake. Whip 1 cup of rich cream with pulverized sugar and flavor
with vanilla. Spread the cream high over the pie; let get cold
22.--Bean Polenta (ITALIAN).
Cook 2 cups of white dried beans with salt and pepper until very soft;
press through a colander. Fry 1 onion in 2 tablespoonfuls of butter
until brown; mix with the beans. Add 1 tablespoonful of vinegar, 1
teaspoonful of made mustard, some lemon-juice and 2 tablespoonfuls of
molasses. Let all get very hot and serve with pork roast.
23.--French Almond Pudding.
Take 1/2 pound of almonds and pound in a mortar. Mix with 6 yolks of
eggs and a cup of sugar, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1
tablespoonful of brandy, 3 slices of stale cake-crumbs and the whites
of the eggs beaten stiff. Put in a well-buttered pudding-dish and bake
in a slow oven until done.
24.--Italian Cutlets.
Take tender veal cutlets; season highly with pepper and salt. Dip in
beaten egg and fine bread-crumbs and fry in boiling lard until a light
brown. Have ready some boiled macaroni well seasoned. Put on a platter
with the cutlets and pour over all a highly seasoned tomato-sauce.
25.--Jewish Gefuellte Fish.
Take 2 pounds of trout and 2 pounds of red fish; cut in two-inch
slices. Remove the skin from one side of the slices. Chop 2 onions;
add salt, pepper and mix with fine cracker-crumbs and 1 egg to a
paste. Lay the paste on the fish and put back the skin. Boil the fish
with salt, pepper and sliced onion, 1 carrot and 2 sprigs of parsley
cut fine, a pinch of cloves and allspice. Let boil two hours. Add a
tablespoonful of rich cream. Serve cold.
26.--Swedish Stewed Veal.
Season 3 pounds of veal. Lay some sliced bacon in a saucepan; let get
hot; add the veal. Cover and let brown with 2 sliced onions, 2 carrots
and an herb bouquet, 1 bay-leaf and 1 tablespoonful of butter. Add 1
pint of water and let simmer until tender. Add chopped mushrooms and a
small glass of wine. Let all get hot and serve.
27.--French Apple Pie.
Line a deep pie-dish with a rich pie-crust. Chop 4 apples very fine
and mix with sugar, cinnamon, lemon-juice and 1/2 cup of currants.
Then mix with the yolks of 2 eggs well beaten. Fill the pie and bake
until done. Beat the whites with pulverized sugar and spread on the
pie. Let get light brown on top.
28.--Vienna Filled Apples.
Remove the core and scrape out the inside of the apples. Mix the
scraped apple with chopped raisins, nuts, cinnamon, sugar and grated
lemon peel. Fill the apples; place in a stew-pan. Mix 1/2 cup of wine
with 1/2 cup of water. Sweeten with 3 tablespoonfuls of sugar and pour
over the apples. Let cook slowly until the apples are tender. Remove
from the fire; put on a glass dish. Pour over the sauce and
29.--Scotch Stewed Tripe.
Clean and boil tripe until tender; then fry 1 chopped carrot and 1
onion until light brown. Stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour; add 1 cup
of stock, 1 bay-leaf, some thyme and parsley; let boil. Season with
salt, pepper and lemon-juice. Cut the tripe into narrow strips; add to
the sauce. Let simmer one-half hour and serve.
30.--Polish Stewed Calves' Feet.
Boil the calves' feet in salted water until tender; then take out the
bones. Fry 1 chopped onion in butter; stir in 1 tablespoonful of
flour; add 1 cup of stock. Let boil with 1 bay-leaf, some parsley
chopped fine and 1/4 cup of vinegar, salt and pepper to taste. Then
add the feet and let simmer ten minutes. Stir in the yolks of an egg
and serve hot.
1.--Oriental Pudding.
Heat 1 large cup of milk and stir in 3 tablespoonfuls of butter; let
boil up. Then stir in 1 small cup of flour sifted with 1 teaspoonful
of baking-powder and a pinch of salt; stir until a smooth batter. Then
remove from the fire and stir in 4 well-beaten eggs, 1/2 cup of
preserved ginger minced fine and 2 tablespoonfuls of the syrup; mix
thoroughly. Put into a well-buttered mold and let steam two hours.
Serve hot with wine sauce.
2.--Swedish Batter Cakes.
Sift 1 pint of flour. Add a salt-spoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of
soda dissolved in a little milk, the yolks of 6 eggs and the whites
beaten to a stiff froth and enough milk to make a thin batter. Then
bake on a hot greased griddle until done. Serve hot.
3.--Chinese Chop Suey.
Cut 2 pounds of fresh pork into thin strips and let fry ten minutes.
Add 1 large onion sliced thin and let fry; then add 1 cup of sliced
mushrooms, 2 stalks of celery cut fine, 1/4 cup of Chinese sauce and a
pinch of pepper; moisten with 1/2 cup of hot water. Cover and let
simmer until tender. Thicken the sauce with flour moistened with a
little milk and let boil. Put some well-seasoned cooked rice on a
platter, pour over the chop suey and serve very hot.
4.--Russian National Soup.
Chop and fry all kinds of vegetables until tender. Make a
highly-seasoned beef broth; add the fried vegetables, 2 boiled beets
chopped fine, some chopped ham, 1/4 teaspoonful of fennel seed, 2
sprigs of parsley chopped. Let boil well; then add 1 cup of hot cream
and serve at once.
5.--English Buns.
Set a sponge over night with 1 cake of compressed yeast dissolved in a
cup of warm water, 3 cups of milk and flour enough to make a thick
batter. Then add 1/2 cup of melted butter, 1 cup of sugar, a
salt-spoonful of salt, 1/2 teaspoonful of soda, 1/2 nutmeg grated and
flour enough to make a stiff dough. Let raise five hours; then roll
out half an inch thick and cut into round cakes. Lay in a
well-buttered baking-pan. Let stand half an hour; then bake until a
light brown. Brush the top with white of egg beaten with
pulverized sugar.
6.--Japanese Fish.
Clean and season a large white fish with salt and paprica and let boil
with 4 sliced shallots and 1 clove of garlic mashed fine. When nearly
done, add 1 tablespoonful of butter, 2 sprigs of parsley chopped fine,
1 tablespoonful of soy, 1 tablespoonful each of tarragon and
Worcestershire sauce. Let cook until done. Place on a platter. Garnish
with fried parsley and serve with boiled rice.
7.--Swiss Creamed Potatoes.
Boil potatoes until tender and slice them thin. Heat two ounces of
butter; add a dessert-spoonful of flour. Then stir in some rich milk
until it thickens; add the potatoes, salt, pepper and chopped parsley.
Let boil up; add a little hot cream and serve at once.
8.--Belgian Chicken.
Cut a cooked chicken into pieces; add some slices of cold veal. Heat 1
cup of stock; add 1/4 teaspoonful of mustard, 1/2 teaspoonful of
paprica, a pinch of white pepper and salt to taste. Add the chicken
and 1 glass of sherry wine. Let all cook ten minutes. Add 3
tablespoonfuls of currant jelly. Serve hot with toasted croutons.
9.--Swiss Biscuits.
Beat the yolks of 2 eggs with 1/4 pound of butter; add a pinch of salt
and pepper, a teaspoonful of mustard and 5 ounces of grated Swiss
cheese. Mix well with 1/4 pound of flour or enough to make a stiff
dough; roll out and cut into round biscuits. Bake in a moderate oven
for twenty minutes, and serve.
10.--French Fritters.
Boil 1 quart of water; add 1 teaspoonful of salt, 2 tablespoonfuls of
butter; then stir in enough sifted flour until thick and smooth. When
cold, stir in 5 beaten eggs, sugar and a little nutmeg to taste. Fry
in deep hot lard to a golden brown. Serve with wine sauce.
11.--German Waffles.
Mix 1/4 pound of butter with 6 tablespoonfuls of sugar. Add the yolks
of 5 eggs, 1/2 cup of milk, 1/2 pound of sifted flour with 2
teaspoonfuls of baking-powder, a pinch of salt and the grated peel of
a lemon. Mix well; add the whites beaten stiff and bake in a well
greased waffle iron. Sprinkle with pulverized sugar and serve hot.
12.--Dutch Rice Fritters.
Take 1 cup of boiled rice and mix with 3 beaten eggs. Then sift 1/2
cup of flour with 1 teaspoonful of baking-powder and a pinch of salt.
Add some sugar to taste. Beat to a light thick batter and fry a
spoonful at a time in boiling lard. Sprinkle with pulverized sugar and
serve hot with cooked fruit.
13.--French Lettuce Salad.
Take the inner lettuce leaves; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Mix the
yolks of 2 hard-boiled eggs with 1 tablespoonful of olive-oil and stir
all together with 2 tablespoonfuls of white wine vinegar. Serve at
once with meats.
14.--Austrian Baked Eggs.
Poach fresh eggs one at a time; then put in a well-buttered
baking-dish; sprinkle with salt, pepper, bits of butter and grated
cheese. Pour over the top 1/2 cup of cream sauce and cover with fine
bread-crumbs. Set in the oven to brown and serve hot with
tomato-sauce.
15.--Swedish Stewed Chicken.
Cut a spring chicken in pieces at the joints; season with salt and
pepper and saute in hot butter. Add 2 cups of cream sauce, 1/2 cup of
boiled rice, some chopped parsley and bits of butter. Let stew slowly
until the chicken is very tender. Serve hot.
16.--Polish Filled Fish.
Clean the fish; cut open along the backbone. Remove all the fish from
the skin and bone from head to tail and chop fine. Fry 1 onion in
butter; add some soaked bread. Take from the fire and mix with the
chopped fish. Add 2 eggs and chopped parsley; season highly with salt
and pepper, a pinch of cloves and nutmeg. Fill the skin of the fish
with the mixture and boil with sliced onions, a few lemon slices, some
parsley and a tablespoonful of butter, salt and pepper, until done.
Serve hot or cold.
17.--Eels a la Poulette.
Clean and skin the eels; let boil with salt, pepper and vinegar. Then
cut into three-inch pieces. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter; add 1
onion chopped; stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour until brown; add 1 cup
of water, salt, pepper, 1 bay-leaf, some parsley and thyme. Let boil
well; add the eels and 1 glass of wine. Boil ten minutes longer;
thicken the sauce with the yolks of 2 eggs well beaten and seasoned
with lemon-juice. Serve with fried croutons.
18.--Italian Baked Fish.
Clean and season a blue fish with salt, pepper and cloves. Lay the
fish in a baking-pan with 1 onion chopped fine and 2 tablespoonfuls of
chopped carrot and parsley. Pour over 1 glass of wine; sprinkle with
flour. Put flakes of butter over the fish and let bake until brown.
Serve with macaroni.
19.--Dutch Stuffed Goose.
Clean and season a goose and stuff with oysters well seasoned with
salt, pepper, parsley, thyme and bits of butter rolled in fine
bread-crumbs. Put in a baking-dish. Pour over the oyster liquor and a
little hot water; let bake until done. Baste as often as necessary.
Serve with red currant jelly.
20.--Swiss Roast Turkey.
Clean and season the turkey with salt and pepper. Then fill with 2
cups of bread-crumbs mixed with a lump of butter, some chopped onion
and thyme, salt and pepper to taste, 1/2 cup of seeded raisins and 1/2
cup of nuts. Mix all well with 2 beaten eggs. Put turkey in
dripping-pan and let bake a rich brown. Baste often with the dripping
until tender. Serve with dressing.
21.--French Turkey Soup.
Cut off all the meat from left-over turkey bones. Put the bones in
cold water and boil with 1 small onion, 1 carrot, 2 pieces of celery
and 2 sprigs of parsley, all cut fine. Add 1 cup of tomato-sauce. Let
all cook well, seasoned with salt and pepper. Remove the bones; add
boiled rice and the turkey meat cut into dice pieces. Let boil and
serve hot with fried croutons.
22.--Swedish Baked Fish.
Clean and season a trout with salt, black pepper and cayenne. Lay in a
baking-pan; dredge with flour; sprinkle with parsley and bits of
butter; add a little water and vinegar. Let bake in a hot oven. Baste
often with butter until done. Garnish with parsley and serve hot with
cream sauce.
23.--Jewish Stewed Sweetbreads.
Clean and parboil the sweetbreads; then fry 1 small sliced onion in
hot fat until light brown. Stir in 1 tablespoonful of flour; add 1/2
cup of water and 1/2 cup of wine vinegar; let boil up. Add 1 bay-leaf,
a few cloves, 1/4 cup of seeded raisins, a few thin slices of lemon
and chopped parsley. Season with salt and paprica to taste; add 1
tablespoonful of brown sugar. Let boil; add the sweetbreads and simmer
until done. Serve cold.
24.--German Stuffed Turkey.
Singe and clean a fat turkey. Season well with salt and pepper. Chop
the giblets; add some chopped veal and pork, 1 onion, 2 cloves of
garlic and parsley chopped, salt and pepper. Mix with 2 eggs and stuff
the turkey. Put in the dripping-pan with some hot water. Dredge with
flour; let bake until done. Baste often with the sauce. Serve the
turkey with the dressing. Garnish with boiled beets sliced thin.
25.--Neapolitan Salad.
Cut cold chicken or turkey in small dice pieces; add some cold
potatoes, beets and celery, cut fine; sprinkle with chopped
hard-boiled eggs, salt and pepper. Line the salad bowl with lettuce
leaves; add the salad. Cover with a French mayonnaise dressing.
Garnish with capers and beets.
26.--Bavarian Stuffed Chicken.
Clean and season a fat hen. Chop the giblets; add some truffles, a
chopped onion, parsley, bread-crumbs, a beaten egg, salt, black pepper
and paprica to taste. Then fill the chicken; heat some dripping in a
large saucepan; lay in the chicken, cover, and cook slowly with 1 cup
of hot water until tender.
27.--Hungarian Baked Herring.
Bone the herring and cut into small pieces. Slice some cooked
potatoes; then butter a baking-dish; sprinkle with flour. Put a layer
of potatoes, some chopped onion and herring and bits of butter until
dish is full; sprinkle with pepper. Make the top layer of potatoes and
bits of butter. Moisten with 3 tablespoonfuls of sour cream. Bake in a
moderate oven until brown. Serve hot.
28.--French Stewed Quail.
Stuff the quail. Put 1 tablespoonful of butter in a large stew-pan;
add some thin slices of bacon. Let get very hot. Lay in the birds;
sprinkle with salt and pepper; add 1 small onion and 1 carrot chopped
fine. Cover and let brown a few minutes, then add 1 cup of hot water.
Let stew slowly until tender. Thicken the sauce with flour mixed with
milk; add some chopped parsley; let boil up and serve hot.
29.--India Beef Curry.
Cut 2 pounds of beefsteak into inch pieces. Sprinkle with salt, pepper
and flour and fry until brown. Add 1 onion chopped fine and 1
tablespoonful of vinegar. Cover and let simmer with 1 tablespoonful of
curry-powder and 1/2 cup of hot water until meat is tender. Thicken
the sauce with flour and butter. Serve on a platter with a border of
cooked rice sprinkled with chopped parsley and garnished with fried
apple slices.
30.--Bread Pudding a la Caramel.
Mix 1 pint of soft bread-crumbs with 1/2 cup of seeded raisins, 2
tablespoonfuls of sugar and 2 eggs. Stir in 1 cup of milk and bake in
a well-buttered pudding-dish until brown. Then boil 1-1/2 cups of
brown sugar with 1/2 cup of milk and 4 tablespoonfuls of chocolate.
Stir until smooth and spread hot over the pudding.
31.--Irish Flummery.
Take 1 pint of oatmeal; pour on enough cold water to cover; let stand
over night; strain and boil with a pinch of salt until thickened. Then
add 1 cup of cooked small fruit, a lump of butter and sugar to taste.
Let get cold and serve with cream.
1.--Swiss Fried Sweetbreads.
Blanch the sweetbreads and sprinkle with salt and pepper; then cut
into thin slices. Dip in beaten egg and roll in grated Swiss cheese
and fine bread-crumbs and fry in a little hot butter to a golden
brown. Serve hot, garnished with parsley.
2.--Japanese Chicken.
Cut 2 spring chickens into pieces at the joints; season with salt,
ginger, pepper and curry-powder and let fry in hot olive-oil until
brown. Remove the chicken; add 1/4 cup of chopped leeks, 1/2 pint of
Japanese sauce, 1/2 cup of chrysanthemum flowers, 2 chopped red
peppers, some bamboo sprouts shaved thin and 1/2 cup of water. Cover
and let cook ten minutes. Add the chicken to the sauce with 1 cup of
cocoanut juice. Let all simmer until the chicken is tender. Serve on a
platter with a border of cooked rice and garnish with fried parsley.
3.--Hindu Venison.
Cook some venison, well seasoned, until tender and slice thin. Peel
and slice 2 apples and 1 Spanish onion; season and fry until a light
brown. Add 1 cooked carrot sliced thin, some savory herbs, and 1 cup
of mutton broth; cover and let cook fifteen minutes. Then mix 1/2
ounce of butter with 1/2 tablespoonful of curry-powder and 1
tablespoonful of lemon-juice; add to the sauce with the sliced
venison; cover and let simmer ten minutes; then add 1 tablespoonful of
currant jelly. Let get very hot and serve, garnished with fried
croutons and sliced lemon.
4.--Spanish Tongue.
Boil a beef tongue until tender; take off the outer skin. Then rub
with butter and the beaten yolk of an egg; put in a baking-dish. Add
1/2 cup of the water in which the tongue was cooked, 1/2 glass of wine
and 1/2 can of mushrooms. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and let bake
until brown. Serve garnished with the mushrooms.
5.--English Pigeon Pie.
Clean and season some young pigeons. Stuff each with chopped oysters
and bits of butter and let stew until tender with 1 onion, 2 sprigs of
parsley and 1 bay-leaf. Then line a deep pie-dish with a rich paste;
let bake and fill with the stuffed pigeons. Add the sauce; cover with
the paste and let bake until brown. Serve hot.
6.--Hungarian Stuffed Goose Neck.
Remove the skin from the neck of a fat goose and stuff with some
soaked bread, fried with 1 small chopped onion in a tablespoonful of
goose-dripping. Add chopped parsley, salt, paprica and ginger and mix
with 1 egg. Lay in a baking-pan with a little hot water and bake until
brown. Serve hot with red cabbage cooked with wine.
7.--Swedish Cabbage.
Shred a cabbage very thin; sprinkle with salt and cook in as little
water as possible until tender. Then add some milk and let boil. Add a
tablespoonful of butter mixed with flour, some mace and white pepper
to taste. Let boil up and serve hot.
8.--Spanish Fried Fish.
Season and slice red fish; roll in flour and fry until brown. Then
heat 1 tablespoonful of butter; add 1 chopped onion and 1 cup of
tomatoes; let fry; add 1 tablespoonful of flour and 1 cup of water;
also some parsley, salt, pepper and 1 bay-leaf chopped fine. Let all
cook; then add the slices of fried fish. Let all get very hot and
serve with boiled rice.
9.--German Spiced Rabbit.
Clean and cut the rabbit into pieces; sprinkle with salt, ginger,
black pepper and paprica and pour over some vinegar. Heat 1
tablespoonful of dripping; add the slices of rabbit and 1 sliced
onion, 2 bay-leaves, a few peppercorns, 2 sprigs of parsley, thyme and
a little mace. Cover with hot water and let stew slowly until tender.
Thicken the sauce with butter mixed with flour. Let cook and serve hot
with apple compote.
10.--English Layer Cake.
Bake 3 layers of sponge-cake; then mix some jelly with wine and spread
between the layers and over the top and sides. Cover with a rich
chocolate icing, flavored with vanilla.
11.--Dutch Rice Pudding.
Mix 1 cup of rice in 2 cups of milk; add 1 tablespoonful of butter,
the yolks of 4 eggs, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 1 cup of sugar and nutmeg
to taste, 1/2 cup of chopped raisins, 1/2 cup of nuts and the whites
of the eggs beaten to a stiff froth. Bake in a well-buttered
pudding-dish until done. Serve cold.
12.--Polish Poached Eggs.
Boil 1/2 cup of vinegar with one cup of water and break in fresh eggs
one at a time and poach them. Remove to a platter; sprinkle with salt
and pepper. Then add 1 tablespoonful of butter and 1 tablespoonful of
sugar to the sauce; let boil up and pour over the eggs. Serve on
buttered toast.
13.--Belgian Sweet Potato Puree.
Boil 4 sweet potatoes until soft. Mash until smooth with 1
tablespoonful of butter, 2 beaten eggs, 1 tablespoonful of brown
sugar, 1/4 teaspoonful of cinnamon and 1/4 cup of milk. Beat well. Put
in a buttered pudding-dish; pour over some melted butter; let bake
until brown. Serve hot with broiled steak.
14.--Spanish Codfish.
Parboil 1 cup of shredded codfish; heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter;
add 1 chopped onion and 2 cups of tomatoes; let fry. Add 1
tablespoonful of flour; stir until thickened. Then add 1 cup of water,
pepper and chopped parsley; let boil well; add the codfish. Let simmer
one-half hour. Serve on buttered toast.
15.--Halibut a la Toulonaise.
Slice the fish; season highly with salt, pepper, cloves, lemon-juice
and parsley. Then roll in flour and fry in hot olive-oil until brown.
Garnish with lemon slices and parsley. Serve with a lettuce salad with
French dressing.
16.--Jewish Stewed Goose.
Clean and cut a fat goose into pieces; season with salt, pepper and
ginger. Put in a stew-pan with 1 sliced onion, 2 cloves of garlic, 1
bay-leaf, thyme and a few peppercorns; add the juice of a lemon. Cover
with hot water and let cook until tender. Thicken with flour and serve
hot with apple-sauce.
17.--Polish Rice Pudding.
Heat 1 quart of milk; add 1 cup of boiled rice, 3 ounces of seeded
raisins and 2 ounces of currants. Let cook ten minutes. Then add the
grated peel of a lemon, 1/4 of a grated nutmeg and the yolks of 6 eggs
well beaten with 1 cup of sugar. Mix thoroughly and pour into a
well-buttered pudding-dish; let bake until done. Then beat the whites
to a stiff froth with 3 tablespoonfuls of pulverized sugar; flavor
with vanilla. Spread on the pudding and let brown slightly in a hot
oven. Serve with lemon sauce.
18.--Vienna Dumplings.
Mix 2 eggs and 1/2 cup of water, a pinch of salt and enough flour to
make a stiff batter. Then drop by the tablespoonful into boiling
salted water until they rise to the surface. Remove to a platter and
fry some onions in hot butter. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and pour
over the dumplings.
19.--Bavarian Sauerkraut.
Cook 2 pounds of fresh pork; season with salt and pepper; add 2
bay-leaves and a few cloves. When half done, add 1 quart of sauerkraut
and let cook one hour. Add 1 cup of wine and 1 tablespoonful of brown
sugar. Let all cook until tender. Serve with potato dumplings.
20.--Chicken Croquettes a la Reine.
Chop cold cooked chicken with some mushrooms, parsley and thyme and
season with salt, black pepper and cayenne. Add a tablespoonful of
butter and 2 well-beaten eggs. Then form into croquettes. Dip in
beaten egg and fine bread-crumbs and fry in deep hot lard to a golden
brown. Make a cream sauce and serve with the croquettes. Garnish
with parsley.
21.--Jewish Goose Greeben.
Cut all the fat from the goose into small pieces and cook in a skillet
with 1 cup of cold water. Let cook uncovered until the water has
evaporated; then fry until brown. Sprinkle with salt and serve hot.
22.--French Venison Pie.
Cut venison in very small pieces and stew, highly seasoned, until
tender. Line a deep pie-dish with a rich pie-paste and bake. Then fill
with the venison. Add a glass of port wine, a pinch of cloves and mace
to the sauce and bits of butter rolled in flour. Pour the sauce over
the venison and cover with the paste. Rub the top with a beaten egg
and let bake until done.
23.--Belgian Broiled Quail.
Select fat quails. Rub with salt, pepper and butter and tie a very
thin strip of bacon around the body of each quail. Place on a broiler
over a slow fire; let broil twenty minutes until done. Remove the
bacon. Have ready buttered toast. Place the birds on the toast, pour
over some melted butter, chopped parsley and lemon-juice. Serve hot.
24.--Vienna Roast Beef.
Season a rib-roast of beef with salt, pepper and ginger and rub with
vinegar. Put in the dripping-pan with 1 sliced onion, 2 cloves of
garlic, 2 carrots, 2 stalks of celery cut fine, 1 bay-leaf and a few
cloves and peppercorns. Pour over 1 cup of stock and dredge with
flour. Let bake in a quick oven; allow fifteen minutes to the pound.
Serve with potato dumplings.
25.--Oysters a la Toulonaise.
Drain large oysters; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Try out a few
slices of bacon in a frying-pan; remove the bacon. Roll the oysters in
fine bread-crumbs and saute until brown on both sides. Place on hot
buttered toast; sprinkle with lemon-juice and garnish with olives.
26.--Chicken a la Bechamel.
Clean and season a fat hen. Put a few slices of chopped bacon in a
saucepan; let get hot. Add the chicken with 1 carrot, 1 onion, 2
stalks of celery chopped fine, 1 herb bouquet, 1 bay leaf, a few
cloves and allspice and 2 blades of mace, 2 sprigs of parsley and 1
cup of hot water. Let all stew until tender; then add some chopped
mushrooms and pour over all 1 cup of hot rich cream.
27.--Milanese Vegetable Soup.
Cut bacon and ham into small pieces; put in a saucepan with 1
tablespoonful of hot butter. Add all kinds of vegetables, cut into
very small pieces and let fry a few minutes. Then fill the pan with 1
quart of beef stock; let all cook slowly for half an hour; add some
boiled rice and 1 cup of tomato-sauce and cook until done. Serve hot.
28.--Swedish Salad.
Cut cold cooked fish into small pieces and mix with chopped
hard-boiled eggs, a few sliced olives, capers and gherkins. Sprinkle
with salt and pepper. Line the salad bowl with crisp lettuce leaves;
add the salad and cover with a mayonnaise dressing. Garnish with
aspic, cut into dice pieces and serve cold.
29.--Oriental Rabbit Pie.
Clean and cut a rabbit into small pieces and let stew, well seasoned
with salt and pepper and cayenne. Add 2 chopped cloves of garlic, 1
chopped green pepper, 1 Spanish onion sliced thin and 2 sliced
tomatoes, a pinch of cloves and allspice. Then line a pie-dish with a
puff paste; let bake and fill with the rabbit; add 2 chopped
hard-boiled eggs and sprinkle with curry-powder. Cover with the paste;
brush the top with a beaten egg and let bake until brown. Serve hot.
30.--Spanish Baked Fish.
Season a pike; put in a baking-pan. Pour over two ounces of melted
butter and 1 pint of sour cream; then let bake in a hot oven for
twenty minutes. Sprinkle with bread-crumbs and grated cheese and let
brown on top. Serve hot. Garnish with parsley.
1.--English Plum Pudding.
Soak 1 pound of stale bread in hot milk; then add 1/2 pound of sugar,
1 pound of seeded raisins, and 1 pound of currants all dredged with
flour, 1/4 pound of chopped citron, 1 pound of finely chopped beef
suet, 1 nutmeg grated, 1 tablespoonful of cinnamon, cloves and mace
mixed together, a pinch of salt, 1 glass of wine and 1 glass of fine
brandy. Mix with the yolks of 8 eggs and the whites beaten to a stiff
froth. Pour the mixture into a wet cloth dredged with flour; tie well
and let boil five hours. Serve with wine sauce.
2.--Swedish Rice Pudding.
Mix 3/4 cup of rice in 1 quart of milk; add 1 cup of sugar, a pinch of
salt and 1 teaspoonful of vanilla. Pour into a pudding-dish. Put bits
of butter over the top and let bake in a moderate oven until done.
3.--Portugal Soup.
Boil 2 pounds of beef and 2 pig's feet in 4 quarts of water; season
with salt and pepper. Let boil well. Add 1 head of lettuce, 1/2 head
of cabbage, a few thin slices of pumpkin, 2 carrots and 1 clove of
garlic, all cut fine, and 1 herb bouquet. Let all cook until tender;
then add 1/2 can of peas. Remove the meat; cut into thin slices;
season, and serve with the soup.
4.--Chinese Salad.
Mix 2 dozen cooked oysters with 3 truffles, and 2 cooked potatoes cut
into shreds; season with salt and pepper. Add all kinds of chopped
herbs, and moisten with white wine. Line the salad bowl with crisp
lettuce leaves; fill with the mixture; sprinkle with finely chopped
parsley. Pour over a mayonnaise dressing and garnish with
anchovy fillets.
5.--Egyptian Salad.
Mix highly seasoned cold cooked rice with some grated onion, chopped
parsley and chives; add 2 dozen fine cut French sardines. Put on crisp
lettuce leaves in a salad bowl and cover with a mayonnaise dressing
Garnish with thin shreds of red beets, and serve.
6.--English Dumplings.
Beat 3 yolks of eggs with 1 tablespoonful of sugar; add 1/2 cup of
finely chopped suet, 1/2 cup of currants, 1/2 teaspoonful of salt and
a little nutmeg. Sift 1 cup of flour with 1 heaping teaspoonful of
baking-powder; mix well with the beaten whites of the eggs. Make into
dumplings the size of an egg; let steam. Serve hot with lemon sauce.
7.--Irish Pancakes.
Mix 1/2 pound of sifted flour with 2 beaten eggs, a pinch of salt, a
pint of milk and 1/2 ounce of melted butter. Mix well to a smooth
pancake batter and fry in hot lard to a delicate brown. Sprinkle with
powdered sugar and serve hot.
8.--English Cream Pudding.
Line a well-buttered pudding-dish with a rich puff-paste and bake.
Then beat 1 cup of butter with 1/2 pound of pulverized sugar. Add the
grated rind and juice of a lemon and beat well with the yolks of 6
eggs; add the whites beaten to a froth. Fill the pudding-dish with the
mixture and bake until done.
9.--Bavarian Roast Turkey.
Clean and season a fat turkey. Stuff with 3 raw potatoes, 2 apples and
1 onion grated. Mix with a lump of butter and 1 cup of bread-crumbs;
add 1 egg. Season with sage, thyme, salt and pepper; then put in a
dripping-pan. Pour in 1 cup of water and dredge with flour. Let bake
in a hot oven until done.
10.--Jewish Stewed Cabbage.
Shred a red cabbage very fine. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of drippings in a
pan; add the cabbage; cover and let stew with 2 apples, and 1 onion
chopped fine. Then brown 1 tablespoonful of flour in hot butter; add
1/2 cup of water mixed with vinegar. Season with salt, pepper and
sugar to taste. Pour the sauce over the cabbage; let simmer ten
minutes. Add 1/2 cup of red wine; let boil up and serve hot.
11.--Venison a la Francaise.
Season venison steaks with salt, pepper and lemon-juice. Put in a
saucepan with 2 tablespoonfuls of hot butter. Add 1 onion, 2
bay-leaves, 1 clove of garlic and a sprig of parsley minced fine. Let
brown; then add 1/2 can of mushrooms, some thyme chopped fine and a
glass of claret. Cover and let simmer until tender. Serve with toasted
croutons and currant jelly.
12.--Italian Macaroni.
Boil macaroni in salted water until tender. Drain. Then heat 2
tablespoonfuls of butter in a saucepan; add the macaroni, 1/2 cup of
chopped boiled tongue, 1/2 cup of chopped mushrooms, 1/2 cup of grated
cheese. Cover, let get very hot. Then mix a highly seasoned
tomato-sauce with a small glass of wine; let boil up and pour over the
macaroni. Serve hot with roast veal.
13.--Russian Stuffed Tongue.
Take fresh beef-tongue; make an incision with a sharp knife and fill
with chopped onions, bread-crumbs, a lump of butter, sage, thyme, salt
and pepper. Sew up and let boil until nearly done. Remove the skin.
Then stick cloves all over the tongue, and let cook until tender. Add
2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar and 1 tablespoonful of butter. Serve,
garnished with sliced beets, olives and sprigs of parsley.
14.--Hungarian Dumplings.
Mix 2 eggs with 1 tablespoonful of water, a pinch of salt and enough
sifted flour to make a stiff dough. Roll out on a well-floured
baking-board as thin as possible. Cut into three-inch squares and fill
with the following mixture: 1 cup of cottage cheese; mix with 1
tablespoonful of butter, 2 beaten eggs, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg to
taste. Fill the dumplings, press the edges well together. Boil some
milk, seasoned with a pinch of salt and sugar to taste. Lay in the
dumplings and boil until done. Serve with the sauce.
15.--German Stewed Fish.
Clean the fish. Cut into large slices; salt well and sprinkle with
black pepper and let stew with sliced onion, some celery and parsley.
Add a few slices of lemon; let cook fifteen minutes to the pound; then
mix 1 tablespoonful of flour with 2 tablespoonfuls of butter; add to
the fish. Let cook five minutes more and serve hot or cold.
16.--French Stuffed Partridge.
Clean, singe and draw young partridges. Season and stuff each bird
with chopped oysters well seasoned, and sprinkle with parsley. Put a
small piece of butter in each bird; place the birds in a baking-pan;
cover with thin slices of bacon; add a little hot water and bake in a
hot oven until done. Serve with toast.
17.--Russian Pickled Herring.
Soak 1 dozen herring over night in water; then mash the milch and roes
and mix with 4 tablespoonfuls of brown sugar. Put the herring in a
large dish with 2 large onions sliced; make alternate layers of
herring, onions and sliced lemon, 8 bay-leaves, a few cloves, whole
peppers and some mustard seed. Pour over all some vinegar. Ready to
serve in five hours. Will keep for one week. Serve with
boiled potatoes.
18.--Hungarian Duck.
Season and roast the duck; then cut into pieces for serving. Chop the
giblets; add to the gravy in which the duck was roasted, with 1 glass
of red wine, 1/4 teaspoonful of paprica, a pinch of cloves and the
juice of a lemon. Let boil; add the sliced duck and let simmer until
tender. Serve hot; garnish with fried croutons.
19.--Venison a la Parisienne.
Cut venison into pieces. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of butter; add 1 onion,
1 bay-leaf, 2 sprigs of parsley, and 2 of thyme, all chopped fine. Add
the venison, salt and pepper. Let all fry a few minutes; then add 1
cup of consomme and let simmer until tender. Add 1/2 glass of sherry
and 1/2 can of chopped mushrooms. Let all get very hot and serve with
toasted croutons.
20.--Jewish Boiled Fish.
Clean and season a large fish with salt and pepper and let cook with 1
cup of vinegar, 1 large onion, 2 sprigs of parsley and 2 of thyme, 1
tablespoonful of butter, 1/2 cup of raisins, a few cloves, 1 lemon
sliced and 1 teaspoonful of prepared mustard. Let cook until done.
Remove the fish; add 2 large pickles chopped and 1/4 cup of sugar, and
thicken with the yolks of 2 eggs well beaten. Serve hot or cold,
garnished with parsley.
21.--English Stuffed Duck.
Clean and season the duck; then chop the giblets. Add 1 onion, some
celery and parsley. Mix with 1 cup of bread-crumbs and a beaten egg.
Season this highly and fill the duck. Put in the dripping-pan with
some hot water, 1/2 glass of sherry and a lump of butter. Sprinkle
with flour; bake until done. Serve with apple-sauce.
22.--French Stewed Rabbits.
Skin and clean the rabbits; cut into pieces at the joints; season
well. Heat 2 tablespoonfuls of drippings in a stew-pan; add the
rabbits, 1 onion and 2 cloves of garlic sliced fine, 1 bay-leaf, 2
sprigs of parsley and thyme. Let all brown a few minutes; then add 1
cup of hot water and cook slowly until tender. Thicken the sauce with
flour and butter; add a glass of claret; boil up and serve.
23.--Italian Salad.
Cut 1 pound of cooked veal in very small pieces; add 1 herring that
has been soaked in milk, 3 cooked potatoes, 2 pickles, 3 boiled beets,
3 apples, 2 stalks of celery, 1 cooked carrot. Pour over a mayonnaise
dressing and garnish with sliced hard-boiled eggs, olives and capers.
24.--Hungarian Stewed Pigeons.
Season the pigeons and stuff with chopped chicken. Let stew slowly
with chopped onions, chives, celery and parsley; add salt and paprica
to taste. Cook until tender. Serve hot with beet salad.
25.--Vienna Baked Goose Breast.
Take the breast of the goose and cut the meat from the bone; chop fine
with some onion, 1 clove of garlic, parsley and a little thyme, salt,
black pepper and paprica. Mix with 2 eggs and fine bread-crumbs. Put
the chopped breast mixture back on the bone. Place in a baking-dish;
pour over some dripping; sprinkle with flour and bake until brown.
Serve with sour apple compote.
26.--Italian Veal and Macaroni.
Season tender veal cutlets with salt and red pepper and saute in hot
olive-oil; then cover and simmer until tender. Boil macaroni until
tender; drain. Add the macaroni to the veal with 1 cup of stock, and 3
tablespoonfuls of chopped cheese. Let all simmer ten minutes. Put on a
platter and cover with bread-crumbs fried in butter. Serve hot.
27.--French Squirrel Fricassee.
Cut the squirrels into pieces at the joints; sprinkle well with salt;
let lay one hour; then sprinkle with pepper and lemon-juice. Put 2
large tablespoonfuls of dripping in a pan; when hot, lay in a squirrel
with 1 sliced onion; cover and let brown. Then add 1 cup of
tomato-sauce, some celery seed and chopped parsley and 1 cup of hot
water. Let simmer until tender. Add 1/2 glass of sherry wine. Let get
very hot and serve with French peas.
28.--Irish Mutton Stew.
Season mutton chops with salt and pepper; put a tablespoonful of hot
drippings in a saucepan; add the chops, some sliced turnips, potatoes
and onions, salt and pepper. Then cover with water and cook slowly
until tender. Thicken the sauce with a little flour mixed with 1/2 cup
of milk. Season to taste and serve very hot.
29.--German Bread Pudding.
Crumb a stale loaf of bread to make 2 cupfuls and soak in 1 quart of
milk. Beat the yolks of 4 eggs with 1 cup of powdered sugar; add the
bread, a small cup of raisins and the grated peel of a lemon. Mix all
well. Put in a well-buttered pudding-dish and bake until brown. Beat
the whites with a pinch of salt, sugar and a little lemon-juice spread
on the top. Let get light brown in the oven. Serve with wine sauce.
30.--Hungarian Spice Cakes.
Sift 1 pound of flour; beat the yolks of 4 eggs with 1 pound of sugar;
add 1/2 ounce cinnamon, 1/2 ounce of ginger, 1/4 teaspoonful of
cloves, some grated lemon peel and a pinch of salt. Make all into a
dough and roll into small cakes about an inch in diameter. Put on
well-buttered baking-plates, sprinkled with flour, and bake in a
moderate oven until a rich brown. Serve with wine.
31.--French Braised Sweetbread.
Parboil the sweetbreads; drain. Put in the baking-pan with a piece of
salt pork, 1 onion, 1 carrot, 1 bay-leaf and a sprig of thyme, all cut
fine. Sprinkle with pepper, dredge with flour; add 1/2 cup of stock.
Let cook in the oven until done. Serve with mushrooms.
THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA
[Illustration: HOOFED LOCUSTS.]
   I THE SIERRA NEVADA
  II THE GLACIERS
 III THE SNOW
  IV A NEAR VIEW OF THE HIGH SIERRA
   V THE PASSES
  VI THE GLACIER LAKES
 VII THE GLACIER MEADOWS
VIII THE FORESTS
  IX THE DOUGLAS SQUIRREL
   X A WIND-STORM IN THE FORESTS
  XI THE RIVER FLOODS
 XII SIERRA THUNDER-STORMS
XIII THE WATER-OUZEL
 XIV THE WILD SHEEP
  XV IN THE SIERRA FOOT-HILLS
 XVI THE BEE-PASTURES
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
HOOFED LOCUSTS
MOUNT TAMALPAIS--NORTH OF THE GOLDEN GATE
MOUNT SHASTA, LOOKING SOUTHWEST
MOUNT RAINIER FROM PARADISE VALLEY--NISQUALLY GLACIER
MAP OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY
MAP OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY, SHOWING PRESENT RESERVATION BOUNDARY
VIEW OF THE MONO PLAIN FROM THE FOOT OF BLOODY CANON
LAKE TENAYA, ONE OF THE YOSEMITE FOUNTAINS
THE DEATH OF A LAKE
LAKE STARR KING
VIEW IN THE SIERRA FOREST
EDGE OF THE TIMBER LINE ON MOUNT SHASTA
VIEW IN THE MAIN PINE BELT OF THE SIERRA FOREST
THE GROVE FORM
LOWER MARGIN OF THE MAIN PINE BELT, SHOWING OPEN CHARACTER OF WOODS
SUGAR PINE ON EXPOSED RIDGE
YOUNG SUGAR PINE BEGINNING TO BEAR CONES
FOREST OF SEQUOIA, SUGAR PINE, AND DOUGLAS SPRUCE
PINUS PONDEROSA
SILVER PINE 210 FEET HIGH
INCENSE CEDAR IN ITS PRIME
FOREST OF GRAND SILVER FIRS
VIEW OF FOREST OF THE MAGNIFICENT SILVER FIR
SILVER-FIR FOREST GROWING ON MORAINES OF THE HOFFMAN AND TENAYA
JUNIPER, OR RED CEDAR
STORM-BEATEN HEMLOCK SPRUCE, FORTY FEET HIGH
GROUP OF ERECT DWARF PINES
A DWARF PINE
OAK GROWING AMONG YELLOW PINES
TRACK OF DOUGLAS SQUIRREL ONCE DOWN AND UP A PINE-TREE WHEN SHOWING
  OFF TO A SPECTATOR
SEEDS, WINGS, AND SCALE OF SUGAR PINE
TRYING THE BOW
A WIND-STORM IN THE CALIFORNIA FORESTS
WATER-OUZEL DIVING AND FEEDING
ONE OF THE LATE-SUMMER FEEDING-GROUNDS OF THE OUZEL
OUZEL ENTERING A WHITE CURRENT
THE OUZEL AT HOME
YOSEMITE BIRDS, SNOW-BOUND AT THE FOOT OF INDIAN CANON
SNOW-BOUND ON MOUNT SHASTA
HEAD OF THE MERINO RAM
HEAD OF ROCKY MOUNTAIN WILD SHEEP
CROSSING A CANON STREAM
WILD SHEEP JUMPING OVER A PRECIPICE
INDIANS HUNTING WILD SHEEP
A BEE-RANCH IN LOWER CALIFORNIA
WILD BEE GARDEN
IN THE SAN GABRIEL VALLEY.--WHITE SAGE
A BEE-RANCH ON A SPUR OF THE SAN GABRIEL RANGE.--CARDINAL FLOWER
WILD BUCKWHEAT.--A BEE-RANCH IN THE WILDERNESS
A BEE-PASTURE ON THE MORAINE DESERT.--SPANISH BAYONET
A BEE-KEEPER'S CABIN
THE SIERRA NEVADA
Go where you may within the bounds of California, mountains are ever in
sight, charming and glorifying every landscape. Yet so simple and
massive is the topography of the State in general views, that the main
central portion displays only one valley, and two chains of mountains
which seem almost perfectly regular in trend and height: the Coast Range
on the west side, the Sierra Nevada on the east. These two ranges coming
together in curves on the north and south inclose a magnificent basin,
with a level floor more than 400 miles long, and from 35 to 60 miles
wide. This is the grand Central Valley of California, the waters of
which have only one outlet to the sea through the Golden Gate. But with
this general simplicity of features there is great complexity of hidden
detail. The Coast Range, rising as a grand green barrier against the
ocean, from 2000 to 8000 feet high, is composed of innumerable
forest-crowned spurs, ridges, and rolling hill-waves which inclose a
multitude of smaller valleys; some looking out through long,
forest-lined vistas to the sea; others, with but few trees, to the
Central Valley; while a thousand others yet smaller are embosomed and
concealed in mild, round-browed hills, each, with its own climate, soil,
and productions.
Making your way through the mazes of the Coast Range to the summit of
any of the inner peaks or passes opposite San Francisco, in the clear
springtime, the grandest and most telling of all California landscapes
is outspread before you. At your feet lies the great Central Valley
glowing golden in the sunshine, extending north and south farther than
the eye can reach, one smooth, flowery, lake-like bed of fertile soil.
Along its eastern margin rises the mighty Sierra, miles in height,
reposing like a smooth, cumulous cloud in the sunny sky, and so
gloriously colored, and so luminous, it seems to be not clothed with
light, but wholly composed of it, like the wall of some celestial city.
Along the top, and extending a good way down, you see a pale, pearl-gray
belt of snow; and below it a belt of blue and dark purple, marking the
extension of the forests; and along the base of the range a broad belt
of rose-purple and yellow, where lie the minor's gold-fields and the
foot-hill gardens. All these colored belts blending smoothly make a wall
of light ineffably fine, and as beautiful as a rainbow, yet firm as
When I first enjoyed this superb view, one glowing April day, from the
summit of the Pacheco Pass, the Central Valley, but little trampled or
plowed as yet, was one furred, rich sheet of golden compositae, and the
luminous wall of the mountains shone in all its glory. Then it seemed to
me the Sierra should be called not the Nevada, or Snowy Range, but the
Range of Light. And after ten years spent in the heart of it, rejoicing
and wondering, bathing in its glorious floods of light, seeing the
sunbursts of morning among the icy peaks, the noonday radiance on the
trees and rocks and snow, the flush of the alpenglow, and a thousand
dashing waterfalls with their marvelous abundance of irised spray, it
still seems to me above all others the Range of Light, the most divinely
beautiful of all the mountain-chains I have ever seen.
The Sierra is about 500 miles long, 70 miles wide, and from 7000 to
nearly 15,000 feet high. In general views no mark of man is visible on
it, nor anything to suggest the richness of the life it cherishes, or
the depth and grandeur of its sculpture. None of its magnificent
forest-crowned ridges rises much above the general level to publish its
wealth. No great valley or lake is seen, or river, or group of
well-marked features of any kind, standing out in distinct pictures.
Even the summit-peaks, so clear and high in the sky, seem comparatively
smooth and featureless. Nevertheless, glaciers are still at work in the
shadows of the peaks, and thousands of lakes and meadows shine and bloom
beneath them, and the whole range is furrowed with canons to a depth of
from 2000 to 5000 feet, in which once flowed majestic glaciers, and in
which now flow and sing a band of beautiful rivers.
Though of such stupendous depth, these famous canons are not raw,
gloomy, jagged-walled gorges, savage and inaccessible. With rough
passages here and there they still make delightful pathways for the
mountaineer, conducting from the fertile lowlands to the highest icy
fountains, as a kind of mountain streets full of charming life and
light, graded and sculptured by the ancient glaciers, and presenting,
throughout all their courses, a rich variety of novel and attractive
scenery, the most attractive that has yet been discovered in the
mountain-ranges of the world.
In many places, especially in the middle region of the western flank of
the range, the main canons widen into spacious valleys or parks,
diversified like artificial landscape-gardens, with charming groves and
meadows, and thickets of blooming bushes, while the lofty, retiring
walls, infinitely varied in form and sculpture, are fringed with ferns,
flowering-plants of many species, oaks, and evergreens, which find
anchorage on a thousand narrow steps and benches; while the whole is
enlivened and made glorious with rejoicing streams that come dancing and
foaming over the sunny brows of the cliffs to join the shining river
that flows in tranquil beauty down the middle of each one of them.
The walls of these park valleys of the Yosemite kind are made up of
rocks mountains in size, partly separated from each other by narrow
gorges and side-canons; and they are so sheer in front, and so compactly
built together on a level floor, that, comprehensively seen, the parks
they inclose look like immense halls or temples lighted from above.
Every rock seems to glow with life. Some lean back in majestic repose;
others, absolutely sheer, or nearly so, for thousands of feet, advance
their brows in thoughtful attitudes beyond their companions, giving
welcome to storms and calms alike, seemingly conscious yet heedless of
everything going on about them, awful in stern majesty, types of
permanence, yet associated with beauty of the frailest and most fleeting
forms; their feet set in pine-groves and gay emerald meadows, their
brows in the sky; bathed in light, bathed in floods of singing water,
while snow-clouds, avalanches, and the winds shine and surge and wreathe
about them as the years go by, as if into these mountain mansions Nature
had taken pains to gather her choicest treasures to draw her lovers into
close and confiding communion with her.
[Illustration: MOUNT TAMALPAIS--NORTH OF THE GOLDEN GATE.]
Here, too, in the middle region of deepest canons are the grandest
forest-trees, the Sequoia, king of conifers, the noble Sugar and Yellow
Pines, Douglas Spruce, Libocedrus, and the Silver Firs, each a giant of
its kind, assembled together in one and the same forest, surpassing all
other coniferous forests in the world, both in the number of its species
and in the size and beauty of its trees. The winds flow in melody
through their colossal spires, and they are vocal everywhere with the
songs of birds and running water. Miles of fragrant ceanothus and
manzanita bushes bloom beneath them, and lily gardens and meadows, and
damp, ferny glens in endless variety of fragrance and color, compelling
the admiration of every observer. Sweeping on over ridge and valley,
these noble trees extend a continuous belt from end to end of the range,
only slightly interrupted by sheer-walled canons at intervals of about
fifteen and twenty miles. Here the great burly brown bears delight to
roam, harmonizing with the brown boles of the trees beneath which they
feed. Deer, also, dwell here, and find food and shelter in the ceanothus
tangles, with a multitude of smaller people. Above this region of
giants, the trees grow smaller until the utmost limit of the timber line
is reached on the stormy mountain-slopes at a height of from ten to
twelve thousand feet above the sea, where the Dwarf Pine is so lowly and
hard beset by storms and heavy snow, it is pressed into flat tangles,
over the tops of which we may easily walk. Below the main forest belt
the trees likewise diminish in size, frost and burning drought repressing
and blasting alike.
The rose-purple zone along the base of the range comprehends nearly all
the famous gold region of California. And here it was that miners from
every country under the sun assembled in a wild, torrent-like rush to
seek their fortunes. On the banks of every river, ravine, and gully they
have left their marks. Every gravel- and boulder-bed has been
desperately riddled over and over again. But in this region the pick and
shovel, once wielded with savage enthusiasm, have been laid away, and
only quartz-mining is now being carried on to any considerable extent.
The zone in general is made up of low, tawny, waving foot-hills,
roughened here and there with brush and trees, and outcropping masses of
slate, colored gray and red with lichens. The smaller masses of slate,
rising abruptly from the dry, grassy sod in leaning slabs, look like
ancient tombstones in a deserted burying-ground. In early spring, say
from February to April, the whole of this foot-hill belt is a paradise
of bees and flowers. Refreshing rains then fall freely, birds are busy
building their nests, and the sunshine is balmy and delightful. But by
the end of May the soil, plants, and sky seem to have been baked in an
oven. Most of the plants crumble to dust beneath the foot, and the
ground is full of cracks; while the thirsty traveler gazes with eager
longing through the burning glare to the snowy summits looming like hazy
clouds in the distance.
The trees, mostly _Quercus Douglasii_ and _Pinus Sabiniana_,
thirty to forty feet high, with thin, pale-green foliage, stand far
apart and cast but little shade. Lizards glide about on the rocks
enjoying a constitution that no drought can dry, and ants in amazing
numbers, whose tiny sparks of life seem to burn the brighter with the
increasing heat, ramble industriously in long trains in search of food.
Crows, ravens, magpies--friends in distress--gather on the ground
beneath the best shade-trees, panting with drooping wings and bills wide
open, scarce a note from any of them during the midday hours. Quails,
too, seek the shade during the heat of the day about tepid pools in the
channels of the larger mid-river streams. Rabbits scurry from thicket to
thicket among the ceanothus bushes, and occasionally a long-eared hare
is seen cantering gracefully across the wider openings. The nights are
calm and dewless during the summer, and a thousand voices proclaim the
abundance of life, notwithstanding the desolating effect of dry sunshine
on the plants and larger animals. The hylas make a delightfully pure and
tranquil music after sunset; and coyotes, the little, despised dogs of
the wilderness, brave, hardy fellows, looking like withered wisps of
hay, bark in chorus for hours. Mining-towns, most of them dead, and a
few living ones with bright bits of cultivation about them, occur at
long intervals along the belt, and cottages covered with climbing roses,
in the midst of orange and peach orchards, and sweet-scented hay-fields
in fertile flats where water for irrigation may be had. But they are
mostly far apart, and make scarce any mark in general views.
Every winter the High Sierra and the middle forest region get snow in
glorious abundance, and even the foot-hills are at times whitened. Then
all the range looks like a vast beveled wall of purest marble. The rough
places are then made smooth, the death and decay of the year is covered
gently and kindly, and the ground seems as clean as the sky. And though
silent in its flight from the clouds, and when it is taking its place on
rock, or tree, or grassy meadow, how soon the gentle snow finds a voice!
Slipping from the heights, gathering in avalanches, it booms and roars
like thunder, and makes a glorious show as it sweeps down the
mountain-side, arrayed in long, silken streamers and wreathing, swirling
films of crystal dust.
The north half of the range is mostly covered with floods of lava, and
dotted with volcanoes and craters, some of them recent and perfect in
form, others in various stages of decay. The south half is composed of
granite nearly from base to summit, while a considerable number of
peaks, in the middle of the range, are capped with metamorphic slates,
among which are Mounts Dana and Gibbs to the east of Yosemite Valley.
Mount Whitney, the culminating point of the range near its southern
extremity, lifts its helmet-shaped crest to a height of nearly 14,700
feet. Mount Shasta, a colossal volcanic cone, rises to a height of
14,440 feet at the northern extremity, and forms a noble landmark for
all the surrounding region within a radius of a hundred miles. Residual
masses of volcanic rocks occur throughout most of the granitic southern
portion also, and a considerable number of old volcanoes on the flanks,
especially along the eastern base of the range near Mono Lake and
southward. But it is only to the northward that the entire range, from
base to summit, is covered with lava.
From the summit of Mount Whitney only granite is seen. Innumerable peaks
and spires but little lower than its own storm-beaten crags rise in
groups like forest-trees, in full view, segregated by canons of
tremendous depth and ruggedness. On Shasta nearly every feature in the
vast view speaks of the old volcanic fires. Far to the northward, in
Oregon, the icy volcanoes of Mount Pitt and the Three Sisters rise above
the dark evergreen woods. Southward innumerable smaller craters and
cones are distributed along the axis of the range and on each flank. Of
these, Lassen's Butte is the highest, being nearly 11,000 feet above
sea-level. Miles of its flanks are reeking and bubbling with hot
springs, many of them so boisterous and sulphurous they seem over ready
to become spouting geysers like those of the Yellowstone.
The Cinder Cone near marks the most recent volcanic eruption in the
Sierra. It is a symmetrical truncated cone about 700 feet high, covered
with gray cinders and ashes, and has a regular unchanged crater on its
summit, in which a few small Two-leaved Pines are growing. These show
that the age of the cone is not less than eighty years. It stands
between two lakes, which a short time ago were one. Before the cone was
built, a flood of rough vesicular lava was poured into the lake, cutting
it in two, and, overflowing its banks, the fiery flood advanced into the
pine-woods, overwhelming the trees in its way, the charred ends of some
of which may still be seen projecting from beneath the snout of the
lava-stream where it came to rest. Later still there was an eruption of
ashes and loose obsidian cinders, probably from the same vent, which,
besides forming the Cinder Cone, scattered a heavy shower over the
surrounding woods for miles to a depth of from six inches to several
The history of this last Sierra eruption is also preserved in the
traditions of the Pitt River Indians. They tell of a fearful time of
darkness, when the sky was black with ashes and smoke that threatened
every living thing with death, and that when at length the sun appeared
once more it was red like blood.
Less recent craters in great numbers roughen the adjacent region; some
of them with lakes in their throats, others overgrown with trees and
flowers, Nature in these old hearths and firesides having literally
given beauty for ashes. On the northwest side of Mount Shasta there is a
subordinate cone about 3000 feet below the summit, which, has been
active subsequent to the breaking up of the main ice-cap that once
covered the mountain, as is shown by its comparatively unwasted crater
and the streams of unglaciated lava radiating from it. The main summit
is about a mile and a half in diameter, bounded by small crumbling peaks
and ridges, among which we seek in vain for the outlines of the ancient
These ruinous masses, and the deep glacial grooves that flute the sides
of the mountain, show that it has been considerably lowered and wasted
by ice; how much we have no sure means of knowing. Just below the
extreme summit hot sulphurous gases and vapor issue from irregular
fissures, mixed with spray derived from melting snow, the last feeble
expression of the mighty force that built the mountain. Not in one great
convulsion was Shasta given birth. The crags of the summit and the
sections exposed by the glaciers down the sides display enough of its
internal framework to prove that comparatively long periods of
quiescence intervened between many distinct eruptions, during which the
cooling lavas ceased to flow, and became permanent additions to the bulk
of the growing mountain. With alternate haste and deliberation eruption
succeeded eruption till the old volcano surpassed even its present
sublime height.
[Illustration: MOUNT SHASTA, LOOKING SOUTHWEST.]
Standing on the icy top of this, the grandest of all the fire-mountains
of the Sierra, we can hardly fail to look forward to its next eruption.
Gardens, vineyards, homes have been planted confidingly on the flanks of
volcanoes which, after remaining steadfast for ages, have suddenly
blazed into violent action, and poured forth overwhelming floods of
fire. It is known that more than a thousand years of cool calm have
intervened between violent eruptions. Like gigantic geysers spouting
molten rock instead of water, volcanoes work and rest, and we have no
sure means of knowing whether they are dead when still, or only
Along the western base of the range a telling series of sedimentary
rocks containing the early history of the Sierra are now being studied.
But leaving for the present these first chapters, we see that only a
very short geological time ago, just before the coming on of that
winter of winters called the glacial period, a vast deluge of molten
rocks poured from many a chasm and crater on the flanks and summit of
the range, filling lake basins and river channels, and obliterating
nearly every existing feature on the northern portion. At length these
all-destroying floods ceased to flow. But while the great volcanic cones
built up along the axis still burned and smoked, the whole Sierra passed
under the domain of ice and snow. Then over the bald, featureless,
fire-blackened mountains, glaciers began to crawl, covering them from
the summits to the sea with a mantle of ice; and then with infinite
deliberation the work went on of sculpturing the range anew. These
mighty agents of erosion, halting never through unnumbered centuries,
crushed and ground the flinty lavas and granites beneath their crystal
folds, wasting and building until in the fullness of time the Sierra was
born again, brought to light nearly as we behold it today, with glaciers
and snow-crushed pines at the top of the range, wheat-fields and
orange-groves at the foot of it.
This change from icy darkness and death to life and beauty was slow, as
we count time, and is still going on, north and south, over all the
world wherever glaciers exist, whether in the form of distinct rivers,
as in Switzerland, Norway, the mountains of Asia, and the Pacific Coast;
or in continuous mantling folds, as in portions of Alaska, Greenland,
Franz-Joseph-Land, Nova Zembla, Spitzbergen, and the lands about the
South Pole. But in no country, as far as I know, may these majestic
changes be studied to better advantage than in the plains and mountains
of California.
Toward the close of the glacial period, when the snow-clouds became less
fertile and the melting waste of sunshine became greater, the lower
folds of the ice-sheet in California, discharging fleets of icebergs
into the sea, began to shallow and recede from the lowlands, and then
move slowly up the flanks of the Sierra in compliance with the changes
of climate. The great white mantle on the mountains broke up into a
series of glaciers more or less distinct and river-like, with many
tributaries, and these again were melted and divided into still smaller
glaciers, until now only a few of the smallest residual topmost branches
of the grand system exist on the cool slopes of the summit peaks.
Plants and animals, biding their time, closely followed the retiring
ice, bestowing quick and joyous animation on the new-born landscapes.
Pine-trees marched up the sun-warmed moraines in long, hopeful files,
taking the ground and establishing themselves as soon as it was ready
for them; brown-spiked sedges fringed the shores of the newborn lakes;
young rivers roared in the abandoned channels of the glaciers; flowers
bloomed around the feet of the great burnished domes,--while with quick
fertility mellow beds of soil, settling and warming, offered food to
multitudes of Nature's waiting children, great and small, animals as
well as plants; mice, squirrels, marmots, deer, bears, elephants, etc.
The ground burst into bloom with magical rapidity, and the young forests
into bird-song: life in every form warming and sweetening and growing
richer as the years passed away over the mighty Sierra so lately
suggestive of death and consummate desolation only.
It is hard without long and loving study to realize the magnitude of the
work done on these mountains during the last glacial period by glaciers,
which are only streams of closely compacted snow-crystals. Careful study
of the phenomena presented goes to show that the pre-glacial condition
of the range was comparatively simple: one vast wave of stone in which a
thousand mountains, domes, canons, ridges, etc., lay concealed. And in
the development of these Nature chose for a tool not the earthquake or
lightning to rend and split asunder, not the stormy torrent or eroding
rain, but the tender snow-flowers noiselessly falling through unnumbered
centuries, the offspring of the sun and sea. Laboring harmoniously in
united strength they crushed and ground and wore away the rocks in their
march, making vast beds of soil, and at the same time developed and
fashioned the landscapes into the delightful variety of hill and dale
and lordly mountain that mortals call beauty. Perhaps more than a mile
in average depth has the range been thus degraded during the last
glacial period,--a quantity of mechanical work almost inconceivably
great. And our admiration must be excited again and again as we toil and
study and learn that this vast job of rockwork, so far-reaching in its
influences, was done by agents so fragile and small as are these flowers
of the mountain clouds. Strong only by force of numbers, they carried
away entire mountains, particle by particle, block by block, and cast
them into the sea; sculptured, fashioned, modeled all the range, and
developed its predestined beauty. All these new Sierra landscapes were
evidently predestined, for the physical structure of the rocks on which
the features of the scenery depend was acquired while they lay at least
a mile deep below the pre-glacial surface. And it was while these
features were taking form in the depths of the range, the particles of
the rocks marching to their appointed places in the dark with reference
to the coming beauty, that the particles of icy vapor in the sky
marching to the same music assembled to bring them to the light. Then,
after their grand task was done, these bands of snow-flowers, these
mighty glaciers, were melted and removed as if of no more importance
than dew destined to last but an hour. Few, however, of Nature's agents
have left monuments so noble and enduring as they. The great granite
domes a mile high, the canons as deep, the noble peaks, the Yosemite
valleys, these, and indeed nearly all other features of the Sierra
scenery, are glacier monuments.
Contemplating the works of these flowers of the sky, one may easily
fancy them endowed with life: messengers sent down to work in the
mountain mines on errands of divine love. Silently flying through the
darkened air, swirling, glinting, to their appointed places, they seem
to have taken counsel together, saying, "Come, we are feeble; let us
help one another. We are many, and together we will be strong. Marching
in close, deep ranks, let us roll away the stones from these mountain
sepulchers, and set the landscapes free. Let us uncover these clustering
domes. Here let us carve a lake basin; there, a Yosemite Valley; here, a
channel for a river with fluted steps and brows for the plunge of
songful cataracts. Yonder let us spread broad sheets of soil, that man
and beast may be fed; and here pile trains of boulders for pines and
giant Sequoias. Here make ground for a meadow; there, for a garden and
grove, making it smooth and fine for small daisies and violets and beds
of heathy bryanthus, spicing it well with crystals, garnet feldspar, and
zircon." Thus and so on it has oftentimes seemed to me sang and planned
and labored the hearty snow-flower crusaders; and nothing that I can
write can possibly exaggerate the grandeur and beauty of their work.
Like morning mist they have vanished in sunshine, all save the few small
companies that still linger on the coolest mountainsides, and, as
residual glaciers, are still busily at work completing the last of the
lake basins, the last beds of soil, and the sculpture of some of the
highest peaks.
[Illustration: MOUNT HOOD.]
THE GLACIERS
Of the small residual glaciers mentioned in the preceding chapter, I
have found sixty-five in that portion of the range lying between
latitude 36 deg. 30' and 39 deg.. They occur singly or in small groups on the
north sides of the peaks of the High Sierra, sheltered beneath broad
frosty shadows, in amphitheaters of their own making, where the snow,
shooting down from the surrounding heights in avalanches, is most
abundant. Over two thirds of the entire number lie between latitude 37 deg.
and 38 deg., and form the highest fountains of the San Joaquin, Merced,
Tuolumne, and Owen's rivers.
The glaciers of Switzerland, like those of the Sierra, are mere wasting
remnants of mighty ice-floods that once filled the great valleys and
poured into the sea. So, also, are those of Norway, Asia, and South
America. Even the grand continuous mantles of ice that still cover
Greenland, Spitsbergen, Nova Zembla, Franz-Joseph-Land, parts of Alaska,
and the south polar region are shallowing and shrinking. Every glacier
in the world is smaller than it once was. All the world is growing
warmer, or the crop of snow-flowers is diminishing. But in contemplating
the condition of the glaciers of the world, we must bear in mind while
trying to account for the changes going on that the same sunshine that
wastes them builds them. Every glacier records the expenditure of an
enormous amount of sun-heat in lifting the vapor for the snow of which
it is made from the ocean to the mountains, as Tyndall strikingly shows.
The number of glaciers in the Alps, according to the Schlagintweit
brothers, is 1100, of which 100 may be regarded as primary, and the
total area of ice, snow, and _neve_ is estimated at 1177 square
miles, or an average for each glacier of little more than one square
mile. On the same authority, the average height above sea-level at which
they melt is about 7414 feet. The Grindelwald glacier descends below
4000 feet, and one of the Mont Blanc glaciers reaches nearly as low a
point. One of the largest of the Himalaya glaciers on the head waters of
the Ganges does not, according to Captain Hodgson, descend below 12,914
feet. The largest of the Sierra glaciers on Mount Shasta descends to
within 9500 feet of the level of the sea, which, as far as I have
observed, is the lowest point reached by any glacier within the bounds
of California, the average height of all being not far from 11,000 feet.
The changes that have taken place in the glacial conditions of the
Sierra from the time of greatest extension is well illustrated by the
series of glaciers of every size and form extending along the mountains
of the coast to Alaska. A general exploration of this instructive region
shows that to the north of California, through Oregon and Washington,
groups of active glaciers still exist on all the high volcanic cones of
the Cascade Range,--Mount Pitt, the Three Sisters, Mounts Jefferson,
Hood, St. Helens, Adams, Rainier, Baker, and others,--some of them of
considerable size, though none of them approach the sea. Of these
mountains Rainier, in Washington, is the highest and iciest. Its
dome-like summit, between 14,000 and 15,000 feet high, is capped with
ice, and eight glaciers, seven to twelve miles long, radiate from it as
a center, and form the sources of the principal streams of the State.
The lowest-descending of this fine group flows through beautiful forests
to within 3500 feet of the sea-level, and sends forth a river laden with
glacier mud and sand. On through British Columbia and southeastern
Alaska the broad, sustained mountain-chain, extending along the coast,
is generally glacier-bearing. The upper branches of nearly all the main
canons and fiords are occupied by glaciers, which gradually increase in
size, and descend lower until the high region between Mount Fairweather
and Mount St. Elias is reached, where a considerable number discharge
into the waters of the ocean. This is preeminently the ice-land of
Alaska and of the entire Pacific Coast.
Northward from here the glaciers gradually diminish in size and
thickness, and melt at higher levels. In Prince William Sound and Cook's
Inlet many fine glaciers are displayed, pouring from the surrounding
mountains; but to the north of latitude 62 deg. few, if any, glaciers
remain, the ground being mostly low and the snowfall light. Between
latitude 56 deg. and 60 deg. there are probably more than 5000 glaciers, not
counting the smallest. Hundreds of the largest size descend through the
forests to the level of the sea, or near it, though as far as my own
observations have reached, after a pretty thorough examination of the
region, not more than twenty-five discharge icebergs into the sea. All
the long high-walled fiords into which these great glaciers of the first
class flow are of course crowded with icebergs of every conceivable
form, which are detached with thundering noise at intervals of a few
minutes from an imposing ice-wall that is thrust forward into deep
water. But these Pacific Coast icebergs are small as compared with those
of Greenland and the Antarctic region, and only a few of them escape
from the intricate system of channels, with which this portion of the
coast is fringed, into the open sea. Nearly all of them are swashed and
drifted by wind and tide back and forth in the fiords until finally
melted by the ocean water, the sunshine, the warm winds, and the copious
rains of summer. Only one glacier on the coast, observed by Prof.
Russell, discharges its bergs directly into the open sea, at Icy Cape,
opposite Mount St. Elias. The southernmost of the glaciers that reach
the sea occupies a narrow, picturesque fiord about twenty miles to the
northwest of the mouth of the Stikeen River, in latitude 56 deg. 50'. The
fiord is called by the natives "Hutli," or Thunder Bay, from the noise
made by the discharge of the icebergs. About one degree farther north
there are four of these complete glaciers, discharging at the heads of
the long arms of Holkam Bay. At the head of the Tahkoo Inlet, still
farther north, there is one; and at the head and around the sides of
Glacier Bay, trending in a general northerly direction from Cross Sound
in latitude 58 deg. to 59 deg., there are seven of these complete glaciers
pouring bergs into the bay and its branches, and keeping up an eternal
thundering. The largest of this group, the Muir, has upward of 200
tributaries, and a width below the confluence of the main tributaries of
about twenty-five miles. Between the west side of this icy bay and the
ocean all the ground, high and low, excepting the peaks of the
Fairweather Range, is covered with a mantle of ice from 1000 to probably
3000 feet thick, which discharges by many distinct mouths.
[Illustration: MOUNT RAINIER FROM PARADISE VALLEY--NISQUALLY GLACIER.]
This fragmentary ice-sheet, and the immense glaciers about Mount St.
Elias, together with the multitude of separate river-like glaciers that
load the slopes of the coast mountains, evidently once formed part of a
continuous ice-sheet that flowed over all the region hereabouts, and
only a comparatively short time ago extended as far southward as the
mouth of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, probably farther. All the islands
of the Alexander Archipelago, as well as the headlands and promontories
of the mainland, display telling traces of this great mantle that are
still fresh and unmistakable. They all have the forms of the greatest
strength with reference to the action of a vast rigid press of
oversweeping ice from the north and northwest, and their surfaces have a
smooth, rounded, overrubbed appearance, generally free from angles. The
intricate labyrinth of canals, channels, straits, passages, sounds,
narrows, etc. between the islands, and extending into the mainland, of
course manifest in their forms and trends and general characteristics
the same subordination to the grinding action of universal glaciation as
to their origin, and differ from the islands and banks of the fiords
only in being portions of the pre-glacial margin of the continent more
deeply eroded, and therefore covered by the ocean waters which flowed
into them as the ice was melted out of them. The formation and extension
of fiords in this manner is still going on, and may be witnessed in many
places in Glacier Bay, Yakutat Bay, and adjacent regions. That the
domain of the sea is being extended over the land by the wearing away of
its shores, is well known, but in these icy regions of Alaska, and even
as far south as Vancouver Island, the coast rocks have been so short a
time exposed to wave-action they are but little wasted as yet. In these
regions the extension of the sea effected by its own action in
post-glacial time is scarcely appreciable as compared with that effected
by ice-action.
Traces of the vanished glaciers made during the period of greater
extension abound on the Sierra as far south as latitude 36 deg.. Even the
polished rock surfaces, the most evanescent of glacial records, are
still found in a wonderfully perfect state of preservation on the upper
half of the middle portion of the range, and form the most striking of
all the glacial phenomena. They occur in large irregular patches in the
summit and middle regions, and though they have been subjected to the
action of the weather with its corroding storms for thousands of years,
their mechanical excellence is such that they still reflect the sunbeams
like glass, and attract the attention of every observer. The attention
of the mountaineer is seldom arrested by moraines, however regular and
high they may be, or by canons, however deep, or by rocks, however noble
in form and sculpture; but he stoops and rubs his hands admiringly on
the shining surfaces and trios hard to account for their mysterious
smoothness. He has seen the snow descending in avalanches, but concludes
this cannot be the work of snow, for he finds it where no avalanches
occur. Nor can water have done it, for he sees this smoothness glowing
on the sides and tops of the highest domes. Only the winds of all the
agents he knows seem capable of flowing in the directions indicated by
the scoring. Indians, usually so little curious about geological
phenomena, have come to me occasionally and asked me, "What makeum the
ground so smooth at Lake Tenaya?" Even horses and dogs gaze wonderingly
at the strange brightness of the ground, and smell the polished spaces
and place their feet cautiously on them when they come to them for the
first time, as if afraid of sinking. The most perfect of the polished
pavements and walls lie at an elevation of from 7000 to 9000 feet above
the sea, where the rock is compact silicious granite. Small dim patches
may be found as low as 3000 feet on the driest and most enduring
portions of sheer walls with a southern exposure, and on compact
swelling bosses partially protected from rain by a covering of large
boulders. On the north half of the range the striated and polished
surfaces are less common, not only because this part of the chain is
lower, but because the surface rocks are chiefly porous lavas subject to
comparatively rapid waste. The ancient moraines also, though well
preserved on most of the south half of the range, are nearly obliterated
to the northward, but then material is found scattered and
disintegrated.
A similar blurred condition of the superficial records of glacial action
obtains throughout most of Oregon, Washington, British Columbia, and
Alaska, due in great part to the action of excessive moisture. Even in
southeastern Alaska, where the most extensive glaciers on the continent
are, the more evanescent of the traces of their former greater
extension, though comparatively recent, are more obscure than those of
the ancient California glaciers whore the climate is drier and the rocks
more resisting.
These general views of the glaciers of the Pacific Coast will enable my
readers to see something of the changes that have taken place in
California, and will throw light on the residual glaciers of the High
Prior to the autumn of 1871 the glaciers of the Sierra were unknown. In
October of that year I discovered the Black Mountain Glacier in a
shadowy amphitheater between Black and Rod Mountains, two of the peaks
of the Merced group. This group is the highest portion of a spur that
straggles out from the main axis of the range in the direction of
Yosemite Valley. At the time of this interesting discovery I was
exploring the _neve_ amphitheaters of the group, and tracing the
courses of the ancient glaciers that once poured from its ample
fountains through the Illilouette Basin and the Yosemite Valley, not
expecting to find any active glaciers so far south in the land of
Beginning on the northwestern extremity of the group, I explored the
chief tributary basins in succession, their moraines, roches moutonnees,
and splendid glacier pavements, taking them in regular succession
without any reference to the time consumed in their study. The monuments
of the tributary that poured its ice from between Red and Black
Mountains I found to be the most interesting of them all; and when I saw
its magnificent moraines extending in majestic curves from the spacious
amphitheater between the mountains, I was exhilarated with the work that
lay before me. It was one of the golden days of the Sierra Indian
summer, when the rich sunshine glorifies every landscape however rocky
and cold, and suggests anything rather than glaciers. The path of the
vanished glacier was warm now, and shone in many places as if washed
with silver. The tall pines growing on the moraines stood transfigured
in the glowing light, the poplar groves on the levels of the basin were
masses of orange-yellow, and the late-blooming goldenrods added gold to
gold. Pushing on over my rosy glacial highway, I passed lake after lake
set in solid basins of granite, and many a thicket and meadow watered by
a stream that issues from the amphitheater and links the lakes together;
now wading through plushy bogs knee-deep in yellow and purple sphagnum;
now passing over bare rock. The main lateral moraines that bounded the
view on either hand are from 100 to nearly 200 feet high, and about as
regular as artificial embankments, and covered with a superb growth of
Silver Fir and Pine. But this garden and forest luxuriance was speedily
left behind. The trees were dwarfed as I ascended; patches of the alpine
bryanthus and cassiope began to appear, and arctic willows pressed into
flat carpets by the winter snow. The lakelets, which a few miles down
the valley were so richly embroidered with flowery meadows, had here, at
an elevation of 10,000 feet, only small brown mats of carex, leaving
bare rocks around more than half their shores. Yet amid this alpine
suppression the Mountain Pine bravely tossed his storm-beaten branches
on the ledges and buttresses of Red Mountain, some specimens being over
100 feet high, and 24 feet in circumference, seemingly as fresh and
vigorous as the giants of the lower zones.
Evening came on just as I got fairly within the portal of the main
amphitheater. It is about a mile wide, and a little less than two miles
long. The crumbling spurs and battlements of Red Mountain bound it on
the north, the somber, rudely sculptured precipices of Black Mountain on
the south, and a hacked, splintery _col_, curving around from
mountain to mountain, shuts it in on the east.
I chose a camping-ground on the brink of one of the lakes where a
thicket of Hemlock Spruce sheltered me from the night wind. Then, after
making a tin-cupful of tea, I sat by my camp-fire reflecting on the
grandeur and significance of the glacial records I had seen. As the
night advanced the mighty rock walls of my mountain mansion seemed to
come nearer, while the starry sky in glorious brightness stretched
across like a ceiling from wall to wall, and fitted closely down into
all the spiky irregularities of the summits. Then, after a long fireside
rest and a glance at my note-book, I cut a few leafy branches for a bed,
and fell into the clear, death-like sleep of the tired mountaineer.
Early next morning I set out to trace the grand old glacier that had
done so much for the beauty of the Yosemite region back to its farthest
fountains, enjoying the charm that every explorer feels in Nature's
untrodden wildernesses. The voices of the mountains were still asleep.
The wind scarce stirred the pine-needles. The sun was up, but it was yet
too cold for the birds and the few burrowing animals that dwell here.
Only the stream, cascading from pool to pool, seemed to be wholly awake.
Yet the spirit of the opening day called to action. The sunbeams came
streaming gloriously through the jagged openings of the _col_,
glancing on the burnished pavements and lighting the silvery lakes,
while every sun-touched rock burned white on its edges like melting iron
in a furnace. Passing round the north shore of my camp lake I followed
the central stream past many cascades from lakelet to lakelet. The
scenery became more rigidly arctic, the Dwarf Pines and Hemlocks
disappeared, and the stream was bordered with icicles. As the sun rose
higher rocks were loosened on shattered portions of the cliffs, and came
down in rattling avalanches, echoing wildly from crag to crag.
The main lateral moraines that extend from the jaws of the amphitheater
into the Illilouette Basin are continued in straggling masses along the
walls of the amphitheater, while separate boulders, hundreds of tons in
weight, are left stranded here and there out in the middle of the
channel. Here, also, I observed a series of small terminal moraines
ranged along the south wall of the amphitheater, corresponding in size
and form with the shadows cast by the highest portions. The meaning of
this correspondence between moraines and shadows was afterward made
plain. Tracing the stream back to the last of its chain of lakelets, I
noticed a deposit of fine gray mud on the bottom except where the force
of the entering current had prevented its settling. It looked like the
mud worn from a grindstone, and I at once suspected its glacial origin,
for the stream that was carrying it came gurgling out of the base of a
raw moraine that seemed in process of formation. Not a plant or
weather-stain was visible on its rough, unsettled surface. It is from 60
to over 100 feet high, and plunges forward at an angle of 38 deg..
Cautiously picking my way, I gained the top of the moraine and was
delighted to see a small but well characterized glacier swooping down
from the gloomy precipices of Black Mountain in a finely graduated curve
to the moraine on which I stood. The compact ice appeared on all the
lower portions of the glacier, though gray with dirt and stones embedded
in it. Farther up the ice disappeared beneath coarse granulated snow.
The surface of the glacier was further characterized by dirt bands and
the outcropping edges of the blue veins, showing the laminated structure
of the ice. The uppermost crevasse, or "bergschrund," where the
_neve_ was attached to the mountain, was from 12 to 14 feet wide,
and was bridged in a few places by the remains of snow avalanches.
Creeping along the edge of the schrund, holding on with benumbed
fingers, I discovered clear sections where the bedded structure was
beautifully revealed. The surface snow, though sprinkled with stones
shot down from the cliffs, was in some places almost pure, gradually
becoming crystalline and changing to whitish porous ice of different
shades of color, and this again changing at a depth of 20 or 30 feet to
blue ice, some of the ribbon-like bands of which were nearly pure, and
blended with the paler bands in the most gradual and delicate manner
imaginable. A series of rugged zigzags enabled me to make my way down
into the weird under-world of the crevasse. Its chambered hollows were
hung with a multitude of clustered icicles, amid which pale, subdued
light pulsed and shimmered with indescribable loveliness. Water dripped
and tinkled overhead, and from far below came strange, solemn murmurings
from currents that were feeling their way through veins and fissures in
the dark. The chambers of a glacier are perfectly enchanting,
notwithstanding one feels out of place in their frosty beauty. I was
soon cold in my shirt-sleeves, and the leaning wall threatened to engulf
me; yet it was hard to leave the delicious music of the water and the
lovely light. Coming again to the surface, I noticed boulders of every
size on their journeys to the terminal moraine--journeys of more than a
hundred years, without a single stop, night or day, winter or summer.
The sun gave birth to a network of sweet-voiced rills that ran
gracefully down the glacier, curling and swirling in their shining
channels, and cutting clear sections through the porous surface-ice into
the solid blue, where the structure of the glacier was beautifully
illustrated.
The series of small terminal moraines which I had observed in the
morning, along the south wall of the amphitheater, correspond in every
way with the moraine of this glacier, and their distribution with
reference to shadows was now understood. When the climatic changes came
on that caused the melting and retreat of the main glacier that filled
the amphitheater, a series of residual glaciers were left in the cliff
shadows, under the protection of which they lingered, until they formed
the moraines we are studying. Then, as the snow became still less
abundant, all of them vanished in succession, except the one just
described; and the cause of its longer life is sufficiently apparent in
the greater area of snow-basin it drains, and its more perfect
protection from wasting sunshine. How much longer this little glacier
will last depends, of course, on the amount of snow it receives from
year to year, as compared with melting waste.
After this discovery, I made excursions over all the High Sierra,
pushing my explorations summer after summer, and discovered that what at
first sight in the distance looked like extensive snow-fields, wore in
great part glaciers, busily at work completing the sculpture of the
summit-peaks so grandly blocked out by their giant predecessors.
On August 21, I set a series of stakes in the Maclure Glacier, near
Mount Lyell, and found its rate of motion to be little more than an inch
a day in the middle, showing a great contrast to the Muir Glacier in
Alaska, which, near the front, flows at a rate of from five to ten feet
in twenty-four hours. Mount Shasta has three glaciers, but Mount
Whitney, although it is the highest mountain in the range, does not now
cherish a single glacier. Small patches of lasting snow and ice occur on
its northern slopes, but they are shallow, and present no well marked
evidence of glacial motion. Its sides, however, are scored and polished
in many places by the action of its ancient glaciers that flowed east
and west as tributaries of the great glaciers that once filled the
valleys of the Kern and Owen's rivers.
The first snow that whitens the Sierra, usually falls about the end of
October or early in November, to a depth of a few inches, after months
of the most charming Indian summer weather imaginable. But in a few
days, this light covering mostly melts from the slopes exposed to the
sun and causes but little apprehension on the part of mountaineers who
may be lingering among the high peaks at this time. The first general
winter storm that yields snow that is to form a lasting portion of the
season's supply, seldom breaks on the mountains before the end of
November. Then, warned by the sky, cautions mountaineers, together with
the wild sheep, deer, and most of the birds and bears, make haste to the
lowlands or foot-hills; and burrowing marmots, mountain beavers,
wood-rats, and such people go into winter quarters, some of them not
again to see the light of day until the general awakening and
resurrection of the spring in June or July. The first heavy fall is
usually from about two to four feet in depth. Then, with intervals of
splendid sunshine, storm succeeds storm, heaping snow on snow, until
thirty to fifty feet has fallen. But on account of its settling and
compacting, and the almost constant waste from melting and evaporation,
the average depth actually found at any time seldom exceeds ten feet in
the forest region, or fifteen feet along the slopes of the summit peaks.
Even during the coldest weather evaporation never wholly ceases, and the
sunshine that abounds between the storms is sufficiently powerful to
melt the surface more or less through all the winter months. Waste from
melting also goes on to some extent on the bottom from heat stored up in
the rocks, and given off slowly to the snow in contact with them, as is
shown by the rising of the streams on all the higher regions after the
first snowfall, and their steady sustained flow all winter.
The greater portion of the snow deposited around the lofty summits of
the range falls in small crisp flakes and broken crystals, or, when
accompanied by strong winds and low temperature, the crystals, instead
of being locked together in their fall to form tufted flakes, are beaten
and broken into meal and fine dust. But down in the forest region the
greater portion comes gently to the ground, light and feathery, some of
the flakes in mild weather being nearly an inch in diameter, and it is
evenly distributed and kept from drifting to any great extent by the
shelter afforded by the large trees. Every tree during the progress of
gentle storms is loaded with, fairy bloom at the coldest and darkest
time of year, bending the branches, and hushing every singing needle.
But as soon as the storm is over, and the sun shines, the snow at once
begins to shift and settle and fall from the branches in miniature
avalanches, and the white forest soon becomes green again. The snow on
the ground also settles and thaws every bright day, and freezes at
night, until it becomes coarsely granulated, and loses every trace of
its rayed crystalline structure, and then a man may walk firmly over its
frozen surface as if on ice. The forest region up to an elevation of
7000 feet is usually in great part free from snow in June, but at this
time the higher regions are still heavy-laden, and are not touched by
spring weather to any considerable extent before the middle or end of
One of the most striking effects of the snow on the mountains is the
burial of the rivers and small lakes.
    As the snow fa's in the river
    A moment white, then lost forever,
sang Burns, in illustrating the fleeting character of human pleasure.
The first snowflakes that fall into the Sierra rivers vanish thus
suddenly; but in great storms, when the temperature is low, the
abundance of the snow at length chills the water nearly to the
freezing-point, and then, of course, it ceases to melt and consume the
snow so suddenly. The falling flakes and crystals form, cloud-like
masses of blue sludge, which are swept forward with the current and
carried down to warmer climates many miles distant, while some are
lodged against logs and rocks and projecting points of the banks, and
last for days, piled high above the level of the water, and show white
again, instead of being at once "lost forever," while the rivers
themselves are at length lost for months during the snowy period. The
snow is first built out from the banks in bossy, over-curling drifts,
compacting and cementing until the streams are spanned. They then flow
in the dark beneath a continuous covering across the snowy zone, which
is about thirty miles wide. All the Sierra rivers and their tributaries
in these high regions are thus lost every winter, as if another glacial
period had come on. Not a drop of running water is to be seen excepting
at a few points where large falls occur, though the rush and rumble of
the heavier currents may still be heard. Toward spring, when the weather
is warm during the day and frosty at night, repeated thawing and
freezing and new layers of snow render the bridging-masses dense and
firm, so that one may safely walk across the streams, or even lead a
horse across them without danger of falling through. In June the
thinnest parts of the winter ceiling, and those most exposed to
sunshine, begin to give way, forming dark, rugged-edged, pit-like sinks,
at the bottom of which the rushing water may be seen. At the end of June
only here and there may the mountaineer find a secure snow-bridge. The
most lasting of the winter bridges, thawing from below as well as from
above, because of warm currents of air passing through the tunnels, are
strikingly arched and sculptured; and by the occasional freezing of the
oozing, dripping water of the ceiling they become brightly and
picturesquely icy. In some of the reaches, where there is a free margin,
we may walk through them. Small skylights appearing here and there,
these tunnels are not very dark. The roaring river fills all the arching
way with impressively loud reverberating music, which is sweetened at
times by the ouzel, a bird that is not afraid to go wherever a stream
may go, and to sing wherever a stream sings.
All the small alpine pools and lakelets are in like manner obliterated
from the winter landscapes, either by being first frozen and then
covered by snow, or by being filled in by avalanches. The first
avalanche of the season shot into a lake basin may perhaps find the
surface frozen. Then there is a grand crashing of breaking ice and
dashing of waves mingled with the low, deep booming of the avalanche.
Detached masses of the invading snow, mixed with fragments of ice, drift
about in sludgy, island-like heaps, while the main body of it forms a
talus with its base wholly or in part resting on the bottom of the
basin, as controlled by its depth and the size of the avalanche. The
next avalanche, of course, encroaches still farther, and so on with each
in succession until the entire basin may be filled and its water sponged
up or displaced. This huge mass of sludge, more or less mixed with sand,
stones, and perhaps timber, is frozen to a considerable depth, and much
sun-heat is required to thaw it. Some of these unfortunate lakelets are
not clear of ice and snow until near the end of summer. Others are never
quite free, opening only on the side opposite the entrance of the
avalanches. Some show only a narrow crescent of water lying between the
shore and sheer bluffs of icy compacted snow, masses of which breaking
off float in front like icebergs in a miniature Arctic Ocean, while the
avalanche heaps leaning back against the mountains look like small
glaciers. The frontal cliffs are in some instances quite picturesque,
and with the berg-dotted waters in front of them lighted with sunshine
are exceedingly beautiful. It often happens that while one side of a
lake basin is hopelessly snow-buried and frozen, the other, enjoying
sunshine, is adorned with beautiful flower-gardens. Some of the smaller
lakes are extinguished in an instant by a heavy avalanche either of
rocks or snow. The rolling, sliding, ponderous mass entering on one side
sweeps across the bottom and up the opposite side, displacing the water
and even scraping the basin clean, and shoving the accumulated rocks and
sediments up the farther bank and taking full possession. The dislodged
water is in part absorbed, but most of it is sent around the front of
the avalanche and down the channel of the outlet, roaring and hurrying
as if frightened and glad to escape.
SNOW-BANNERS
The most magnificent storm phenomenon I ever saw, surpassing in showy
grandeur the most imposing effects of clouds, floods, or avalanches, was
the peaks of the High Sierra, back of Yosemite Valley, decorated with
snow-banners. Many of the starry snow-flowers, out of which these
banners are made, fall before they are ripe, while most of those that do
attain perfect development as six-rayed crystals glint and chafe against
one another in their fall through the frosty air, and are broken into
fragments. This dry fragmentary snow is still further prepared for the
formation of banners by the action of the wind. For, instead of finding
rest at once, like the snow which falls into the tranquil depths of the
forests, it is rolled over and over, beaten against rock-ridges, and
swirled in pits and hollows, like boulders, pebbles, and sand in the
pot-holes of a river, until finally the delicate angles of the crystals
are worn off, and the whole mass is reduced to dust. And whenever
storm-winds find this prepared snow-dust in a loose condition on exposed
slopes, where there is a free upward sweep to leeward, it is tossed back
into the sky, and borne onward from peak to peak in the form of banners
or cloudy drifts, according to the velocity of the wind and the
conformation of the slopes up or around which it is driven. While thus
flying through the air, a small portion makes good its escape, and
remains in the sky as vapor. But far the greater part, after being
driven into the sky again and again, is at length locked fast in bossy
drifts, or in the wombs of glaciers, some of it to remain silent and
rigid for centuries before it is finally melted and sent singing down
the mountainsides to the sea.
Yet, notwithstanding the abundance of winter snow-dust in the mountains,
and the frequency of high winds, and the length of time the dust remains
loose and exposed to their action, the occurrence of well-formed banners
is, for causes we shall hereafter note, comparatively rare. I have seen
only one display of this kind that seemed in every way perfect. This was
in the winter of 1873, when the snow-laden summits were swept by a wild
"norther." I happened at the time to be wintering in Yosemite Valley,
that sublime Sierra temple where every day one may see the grandest
sights. Yet even here the wild gala-day of the north wind seemed
surpassingly glorious. I was awakened in the morning by the rocking of
my cabin and the beating of pine-burs on the roof. Detached torrents and
avalanches from the main wind-flood overhead were rushing wildly down
the narrow side canons, and over the precipitous walls, with loud
resounding roar, rousing the pines to enthusiastic action, and making
the whole valley vibrate as though it were an instrument being played.
But afar on the lofty exposed peaks of the range standing so high in the
sky, the storm was expressing itself in still grander characters, which
I was soon to see in all their glory. I had long been anxious to study
some points in the structure of the ice-cone that is formed every winter
at the foot of the upper Yosemite fall, but the blinding spray by which
it is invested had hitherto prevented me from making a sufficiently near
approach. This morning the entire body of the fall was torn into gauzy
shreds, and blown horizontally along the face of the cliff, leaving the
cone dry; and while making my way to the top of an overlooking ledge to
seize so favorable an opportunity to examine the interior of the cone,
the peaks of the Merced group came in sight over the shoulder of the
South Dome, each waving a resplendent banner against the blue sky, as
regular in form, and as firm in texture, as if woven of fine silk. So
rare and splendid a phenomenon, of course, overbore all other
considerations, and I at once let the ice-cone go, and began to force my
way out of the valley to some dome or ridge sufficiently lofty to
command a general view of the main summits, feeling assured that I
should find them bannered still more gloriously; nor was I in the least
disappointed. Indian Canon, through which I climbed, was choked with
snow that had been shot down in avalanches from the high cliffs on
either side, rendering the ascent difficult; but inspired by the roaring
storm, the tedious wallowing brought no fatigue, and in four hours I
gained the top of a ridge above the valley, 8000 feet high. And there in
bold relief, like a clear painting, appeared a most imposing scene.
Innumerable peaks, black and sharp, rose grandly into the dark blue sky,
their bases set in solid white, their sides streaked and splashed with
snow, like ocean rocks with foam; and from every summit, all free and
unconfused, was streaming a beautiful silky silvery banner, from half a
mile to a mile in length, slender at the point of attachment, then
widening gradually as it extended from the peak until it was about 1000
or 1500 feet in breadth, as near as I could estimate. The cluster of
peaks called the "Crown of the Sierra," at the head of the Merced and
Tuolumne rivers,--Mounts Dana, Gibbs, Conness, Lyell, Maclure, Ritter,
with their nameless compeers,--each had its own refulgent banner, waving
with a clearly visible motion in the sunglow, and there was not a single
cloud in the sky to mar their simple grandeur. Fancy yourself standing
on this Yosemite ridge looking eastward. You notice a strange garish
glitter in the air. The gale drives wildly overhead with a fierce,
tempestuous roar, but its violence is not felt, for you are looking
through a sheltered opening in the woods as through a window. There, in
the immediate foreground of your picture, rises a majestic forest of
Silver Fir blooming in eternal freshness, the foliage yellow-green, and
the snow beneath the trees strewn with their beautiful plumes, plucked
off by the wind. Beyond, and extending over all the middle ground, are
somber swaths of pine, interrupted by huge swelling ridges and domes;
and just beyond the dark forest you see the monarchs of the High Sierra
waving their magnificent banners. They are twenty miles away, but you
would not wish them nearer, for every feature is distinct, and the whole
glorious show is seen in its right proportions. After this general view,
mark how sharply the dark snowless ribs and buttresses and summits of
the peaks are defined, excepting the portions veiled by the banners, and
how delicately their sides are streaked with snow, where it has come to
rest in narrow flutings and gorges. Mark, too, how grandly the banners
wave as the wind is deflected against their sides, and how trimly each
is attached to the very summit of its peak, like a streamer at a
masthead; how smooth and silky they are in texture, and how finely their
fading fringes are penciled on the azure sky. See how dense and opaque
they are at the point of attachment, and how filmy and translucent
toward the end, so that the peaks back of them are seen dimly, as though
you were looking through ground glass. Yet again observe how some of the
longest, belonging to the loftiest summits, stream perfectly free all
the way across intervening notches and passes from peak to peak, while
others overlap and partly hide each other. And consider how keenly every
particle of this wondrous cloth of snow is flashing out jets of light.
These are the main features of the beautiful and terrible picture as
seen from the forest window; and it would still be surpassingly glorious
were the fore- and middle-grounds obliterated altogether, leaving only
the black peaks, the white banners, and the blue sky.
Glancing now in a general way at the formation of snow-banners, we find
that the main causes of the wondrous beauty and perfection of those we
have been contemplating were the favorable direction and great force of
the wind, the abundance of snow-dust, and the peculiar conformation of
the slopes of the peaks. It is essential not only that the wind should
move with great velocity and steadiness to supply a sufficiently copious
and continuous stream of snow-dust, but that it should come from the
north. No perfect banner is ever hung on the Sierra peaks by a south
wind. Had the gale that day blown from the south, leaving other
conditions unchanged, only a dull, confused, fog-like drift would have
been produced; for the snow, instead of being spouted up over the tops
of the peaks in concentrated currents to be drawn out as streamers,
would have been shed off around the sides, and piled down into the
glacier wombs. The cause of the concentrated action of the north wind is
found in the peculiar form of the north sides of the peaks, where the
amphitheaters of the residual glaciers are. In general the south sides
are convex and irregular, while the north sides are concave both in
their vertical and horizontal sections; the wind in ascending these
curves converges toward the summits, carrying the snow in concentrating
currents with it, shooting it almost straight up into the air above the
peaks, from which it is then carried away in a horizontal direction.
This difference in form between the north and south sides of the peaks
was almost wholly produced by the difference in the kind and quantity of
the glaciation to which they have been subjected, the north sides having
been hollowed by residual shadow-glaciers of a form that never existed
on the sun-beaten sides.
It appears, therefore, that shadows in great part determine not only the
forms of lofty icy mountains, but also those of the snow-banners that
the wild winds hang on them.
A NEAR VIEW OF THE HIGH SIERRA
Early one bright morning in the middle of Indian summer, while the
glacier meadows were still crisp with frost crystals, I set out from the
foot of Mount Lyell, on my way down to Yosemite Valley, to replenish my
exhausted store of bread and tea. I had spent the past summer, as many
preceding ones, exploring the glaciers that lie on the head waters of
the San Joaquin, Tuolumne, Merced, and Owen's rivers; measuring and
studying their movements, trends, crevasses, moraines, etc., and the
part they had played during the period of their greater extension in the
creation and development of the landscapes of this alpine wonderland.
The time for this kind of work was nearly over for the year, and I began
to look forward with delight to the approaching winter with its wondrous
storms, when I would be warmly snow-bound in my Yosemite cabin with
plenty of bread and books; but a tinge of regret came on when I
considered that possibly I might not see this favorite region again
until the next summer, excepting distant views from the heights about
the Yosemite walls.
To artists, few portions of the High Sierra are, strictly speaking,
picturesque. The whole massive uplift of the range is one great picture,
not clearly divisible into smaller ones; differing much in this respect
from the older, and what may be called, riper mountains of the Coast
Range. All the landscapes of the Sierra, as we have seen, were born
again, remodeled from base to summit by the developing ice-floods of the
last glacial winter. But all those new landscapes were not brought forth
simultaneously; some of the highest, where the ice lingered longest, are
tens of centuries younger than those of the warmer regions below them.
In general, the younger the mountain-landscapes,--younger, I mean, with
reference to the time of their emergence from the ice of the glacial
period,--the less separable are they into artistic bits capable of being
made into warm, sympathetic, lovable pictures with appreciable humanity
Here, however, on the head waters of the Tuolumne, is a group of wild
peaks on which the geologist may say that the sun has but just begun to
shine, which is yet in a high degree picturesque, and in its main
features so regular and evenly balanced as almost to appear
conventional--one somber cluster of snow-laden peaks with gray
pine-fringed granite bosses braided around its base, the whole surging
free into the sky from the head of a magnificent valley, whose lofty
walls are beveled away on both sides so as to embrace it all without
admitting anything not strictly belonging to it. The foreground was now
aflame with autumn colors, brown and purple and gold, ripe in the mellow
sunshine; contrasting brightly with the deep, cobalt blue of the sky,
and the black and gray, and pure, spiritual white of the rocks and
glaciers. Down through the midst, the young Tuolumne was seen pouring
from its crystal fountains, now resting in glassy pools as if changing
back again into ice, now leaping in white cascades as if turning to
snow; gliding right and left between granite bosses, then sweeping on
through the smooth, meadowy levels of the valley, swaying pensively from
side to side with calm, stately gestures past dipping willows and
sedges, and around groves of arrowy pine; and throughout its whole
eventful course, whether flowing fast or slow, singing loud or low, ever
filling the landscape with spiritual animation, and manifesting the
grandeur of its sources in every movement and tone.
Pursuing my lonely way down the valley, I turned again and again to gaze
on the glorious picture, throwing up my arms to inclose it as in a
frame. After long ages of growth in the darkness beneath the glaciers,
through sunshine and storms, it seemed now to be ready and waiting for
the elected artist, like yellow wheat for the reaper; and I could not
help wishing that I might carry colors and brushes with me on my
travels, and learn to paint. In the mean time I had to be content with
photographs on my mind and sketches in my note-books. At length, after I
had rounded a precipitous headland that puts out from the west wall of
the valley, every peak vanished from sight, and I pushed rapidly along
the frozen meadows, over the divide between the waters of the Merced and
Tuolumne, and down through the forests that clothe the slopes of Cloud's
Rest, arriving in Yosemite in due time--which, with me, is _any_
time. And, strange to say, among the first people I met here were two
artists who, with letters of introduction, were awaiting my return. They
inquired whether in the course of my explorations in the adjacent
mountains I had ever come upon a landscape suitable for a large
painting; whereupon I began a description of the one that had so lately
excited my admiration. Then, as I went on further and further into
details, their faces began to glow, and I offered to guide them to it,
while they declared that they would gladly follow, far or near,
whithersoever I could spare the time to lead them.
Since storms might come breaking down through the fine weather at any
time, burying the colors in snow, and cutting off the artists' retreat,
I advised getting ready at once.
I led them out of the valley by the Vernal and Nevada Falls, thence over
the main dividing ridge to the Big Tuolumne Meadows, by the old Mono
trail, and thence along the upper Tuolumne River to its head. This was
my companions' first excursion into the High Sierra, and as I was almost
always alone in my mountaineering, the way that the fresh beauty was
reflected in their faces made for me a novel and interesting study. They
naturally were affected most of all by the colors--the intense azure of
the sky, the purplish grays of the granite, the red and browns of dry
meadows, and the translucent purple and crimson of huckleberry bogs; the
flaming yellow of aspen groves, the silvery flashing of the streams, and
the bright green and blue of the glacier lakes. But the general
expression of the scenery--rocky and savage--seemed sadly disappointing;
and as they threaded the forest from ridge to ridge, eagerly scanning
the landscapes as they were unfolded, they said: "All this is huge and
sublime, but we see nothing as yet at all available for effective
pictures. Art is long, and art is limited, you know; and here are
foregrounds, middle-grounds, backgrounds, all alike; bare rock-waves,
woods, groves, diminutive flecks of meadow, and strips of glittering
water." "Never mind," I replied, "only bide a wee, and I will show you
something you will like."
At length, toward the end of the second day, the Sierra Crown began to
come into view, and when we had fairly rounded the projecting headland
before mentioned, the whole picture stood revealed in the flush of the
alpenglow. Their enthusiasm was excited beyond bounds, and the more
impulsive of the two, a young Scotchman, dashed ahead, shouting and
gesticulating and tossing his arms in the air like a madman. Here, at
last, was a typical alpine landscape.
After feasting awhile on the view, I proceeded to make camp in a
sheltered grove a little way back from the meadow, where pine-boughs
could be obtained for beds, and where there was plenty of dry wood for
fires, while the artists ran here and there, along the river-bends and
up the sides of the canon, choosing foregrounds for sketches. After
dark, when our tea was made and a rousing fire had been built, we began
to make our plans. They decided to remain several days, at the least,
while I concluded to make an excursion in the mean time to the untouched
summit of Ritter.
It was now about the middle of October, the springtime of snow-flowers.
The first winter-clouds had already bloomed, and the peaks were strewn
with fresh crystals, without, however, affecting the climbing to any
dangerous extent. And as the weather was still profoundly calm, and the
distance to the foot of the mountain only a little more than a day, I
felt that I was running no great risk of being storm-bound.
Mount Ritter is king of the mountains of the middle portion of the High
Sierra, as Shasta of the north and Whitney of the south sections.
Moreover, as far as I know, it had never been climbed. I had explored
the adjacent wilderness summer after summer, but my studies thus far had
never drawn me to the top of it. Its height above sea-level is about
13,300 feet, and it is fenced round by steeply inclined glaciers, and
canons of tremendous depth and ruggedness, which render it almost
inaccessible. But difficulties of this kind only exhilarate the
mountaineer.
Next morning, the artists went heartily to their work and I to mine.
Former experiences had given good reason to know that passionate storms,
invisible as yet, might be brooding in the calm sun-gold; therefore,
before bidding farewell, I warned the artists not to be alarmed should I
fail to appear before a week or ten days, and advised them, in case a
snow-storm should set in, to keep up big fires and shelter themselves as
best they could, and on no account to become frightened and attempt to
seek their way back to Yosemite alone through the drifts.
My general plan was simply this: to scale the canon, wall, cross over to
the eastern flank of the range, and then make my way southward to the
northern spurs of Mount Ritter in compliance with the intervening
topography; for to push on directly southward from camp through the
innumerable peaks and pinnacles that adorn this portion of the axis of
the range, however interesting, would take too much time, besides being
extremely difficult and dangerous at this time of year.
All my first day was pure pleasure; simply mountaineering indulgence,
crossing the dry pathways of the ancient glaciers, tracing happy
streams, and learning the habits of the birds and marmots in the groves
and rocks. Before I had gone a mile from camp, I came to the foot of a
white cascade that beats its way down a rugged gorge in the canon wall,
from a height of about nine hundred feet, and pours its throbbing waters
into the Tuolumne. I was acquainted with its fountains, which,
fortunately, lay in my course. What a fine traveling companion it proved
to be, what songs it sang, and how passionately it told the mountain's
own joy! Gladly I climbed along its dashing border, absorbing its divine
music, and bathing from time to time in waftings of irised spray.
Climbing higher, higher, now beauty came streaming on the sight: painted
meadows, late-blooming gardens, peaks of rare architecture, lakes here
and there, shining like silver, and glimpses of the forested middle
region and the yellow lowlands far in the west. Beyond the range I saw
the so-called Mono Desert, lying dreamily silent in thick purple
light--a desert of heavy sun-glare beheld from a desert of ice-burnished
granite. Here the waters divide, shouting in glorious enthusiasm, and
falling eastward to vanish in the volcanic sands and dry sky of the
Great Basin, or westward to the Great Valley of California, and thence
through the Bay of San Francisco and the Golden Gate to the sea.
Passing a little way down over the summit until I had reached an
elevation of about 10,000 feet, I pushed on southward toward a group of
savage peaks that stand guard about Ritter on the north and west,
groping my way, and dealing instinctively with every obstacle as it
presented itself. Here a huge gorge would be found cutting across my
path, along the dizzy edge of which I scrambled until some less
precipitous point was discovered where I might safely venture to the
bottom and then, selecting some feasible portion of the opposite wall,
reascend with the same slow caution. Massive, flat-topped spurs
alternate with the gorges, plunging abruptly from the shoulders of the
snowy peaks, and planting their feet in the warm desert. These were
everywhere marked and adorned with characteristic sculptures of the
ancient glaciers that swept over this entire region like one vast
ice-wind, and the polished surfaces produced by the ponderous flood are
still so perfectly preserved that in many places the sunlight reflected
from them is about as trying to the eyes as sheets of snow.
God's glacial-mills grind slowly, but they have been kept in motion long
enough in California to grind sufficient soil for a glorious abundance
of life, though most of the grist has been carried to the lowlands,
leaving these high regions comparatively lean and bare; while the
post-glacial agents of erosion have not yet furnished sufficient
available food over the general surface for more than a few tufts of the
hardiest plants, chiefly carices and eriogonae. And it is interesting to
learn in this connection that the sparseness and repressed character of
the vegetation at this height is caused more by want of soil than by
harshness of climate; for, here and there, in sheltered hollows
(countersunk beneath the general surface) into which a few rods of
well-ground moraine chips have been dumped, we find groves of spruce and
pine thirty to forty feet high, trimmed around the edges with willow and
huckleberry bushes, and oftentimes still further by an outer ring of
tall grasses, bright with lupines, larkspurs, and showy columbines,
suggesting a climate by no means repressingly severe. All the streams,
too, and the pools at this elevation are furnished with little gardens
wherever soil can be made to lie, which, though making scarce any show
at a distance, constitute charming surprises to the appreciative
observer. In these bits of leanness a few birds find grateful homes.
Having no acquaintance with man, they fear no ill, and flock curiously
about the stranger, almost allowing themselves to be taken in the hand.
In so wild and so beautiful a region was spent my first day, every sight
and sound inspiring, leading one far out of himself, yet feeding and
building up his individuality.
Now came the solemn, silent evening. Long, blue, spiky shadows crept out
across the snow-fields, while a rosy glow, at first scarce discernible,
gradually deepened and suffused every mountain-top, flushing the
glaciers and the harsh crags above them. This was the alpenglow, to me
one of the most impressive of all the terrestrial manifestations of God.
At the touch of this divine light, the mountains seemed to kindle to a
rapt, religious consciousness, and stood hushed and waiting like devout
worshipers. Just before the alpenglow began to fade, two crimson clouds
came streaming across the summit like wings of flame, rendering the
sublime scene yet more impressive; then came darkness and the stars.
Icy Ritter was still miles away, but I could proceed no farther that
night. I found a good campground on the rim of a glacier basin about
11,000 feet above the sea. A small lake nestles in the bottom of it,
from which I got water for my tea, and a storm-beaten thicket near by
furnished abundance of resiny fire-wood. Somber peaks, hacked and
shattered, circled half-way around the horizon, wearing a savage aspect
in the gloaming, and a waterfall chanted solemnly across the lake on its
way down from the foot of a glacier. The fall and the lake and the
glacier were almost equally bare; while the scraggy pines anchored in
the rock-fissures were so dwarfed and shorn by storm-winds that you
might walk over their tops. In tone and aspect the scene was one of the
most desolate I ever beheld. But the darkest scriptures of the mountains
are illumined with bright passages of love that never fail to make
themselves felt when one is alone.
I made my bed in a nook of the pine-thicket, where the branches were
pressed and crinkled overhead like a roof, and bent down around the
sides. These are the best bedchambers the high mountains afford--snug as
squirrel-nests, well ventilated, full of spicy odors, and with plenty of
wind-played needles to sing one asleep. I little expected company, but,
creeping in through a low side-door, I found five or six birds nestling
among the tassels. The night-wind began to blow soon after dark; at
first only a gentle breathing, but increasing toward midnight to a rough
gale that fell upon my leafy roof in ragged surges like a cascade,
bearing wild sounds from the crags overhead. The waterfall sang in
chorus, filling the old ice-fountain with its solemn roar, and seeming
to increase in power as the night advanced--fit voice for such a
landscape. I had to creep out many times to the fire during the night,
for it was biting cold and I had no blankets. Gladly I welcomed the
morning star.
The dawn in the dry, wavering air of the desert was glorious. Everything
encouraged my undertaking and betokened success. There was no cloud in
the sky, no storm-tone in the wind. Breakfast of bread and tea was soon
made. I fastened a hard, durable crust to my belt by way of provision,
in case I should be compelled to pass a night on the mountain-top; then,
securing the remainder of my little stock against wolves and wood-rats,
I set forth free and hopeful.
How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains! To behold this
alone is worth the pains of any excursion a thousand times over. The
highest peaks burned like islands in a sea of liquid shade. Then the
lower peaks and spires caught the glow, and long lances of light,
streaming through many a notch and pass, fell thick on the frozen
meadows. The majestic form of Ritter was full in sight, and I pushed
rapidly on over rounded rock-bosses and pavements, my iron-shod shoes
making a clanking sound, suddenly hushed now and then in rugs of
bryanthus, and sedgy lake-margins soft as moss. Here, too, in this
so-called "land of desolation," I met cassiope, growing in fringes among
the battered rocks. Her blossoms had faded long ago, but they were still
clinging with happy memories to the evergreen sprays, and still so
beautiful as to thrill every fiber of one's being. Winter and summer,
you may hear her voice, the low, sweet melody of her purple bells. No
evangel among all the mountain plants speaks Nature's love more plainly
than cassiope. Where she dwells, the redemption of the coldest solitude
is complete. The very rocks and glaciers seem to feel her presence, and
become imbued with her own fountain sweetness. All things were warming
and awakening. Frozen rills began to flow, the marmots came out of their
nests in boulder-piles and climbed sunny rocks to bask, and the
dun-headed sparrows were flitting about seeking their breakfasts. The
lakes seen from every ridge-top were brilliantly rippled and spangled,
shimmering like the thickets of the low Dwarf Pines. The rocks, too,
seemed responsive to the vital heat--rock-crystals and snow-crystals
thrilling alike. I strode on exhilarated, as if never more to feel
fatigue, limbs moving of themselves, every sense unfolding like the
thawing flowers, to take part in the new day harmony.
All along my course thus far, excepting when down in the canons, the
landscapes were mostly open to me, and expansive, at least on one side.
On the left were the purple plains of Mono, reposing dreamily and warm;
on the right, the near peaks springing keenly into the thin sky with
more and more impressive sublimity. But these larger views were at
length lost. Rugged spurs, and moraines, and huge, projecting buttresses
began to shut me in. Every feature became more rigidly alpine, without,
however, producing any chilling effect; for going to the mountains is
like going home. We always find that the strangest objects in these
fountain wilds are in some degree familiar, and we look upon them with a
vague sense of having seen them before.
On the southern shore of a frozen lake, I encountered an extensive field
of hard, granular snow, up which I scampered in fine tone, intending to
follow it to its head, and cross the rocky spur against which it leans,
hoping thus to come direct upon the base of the main Ritter peak. The
surface was pitted with oval hollows, made by stones and drifted
pine-needles that had melted themselves into the mass by the radiation
of absorbed sun-heat. These afforded good footholds, but the surface
curved more and more steeply at the head, and the pits became shallower
and less abundant, until I found myself in danger of being shed off like
avalanching snow. I persisted, however, creeping on all fours, and
shuffling up the smoothest places on my back, as I had often done on
burnished granite, until, after slipping several times, I was compelled
to retrace my course to the bottom, and make my way around the west end
of the lake, and thence up to the summit of the divide between the head
waters of Rush Creek and the northernmost tributaries of the San
Arriving on the summit of this dividing crest, one of the most exciting
pieces of pure wilderness was disclosed that I ever discovered in all my
mountaineering. There, immediately in front, loomed the majestic mass of
Mount Ritter, with a glacier swooping down its face nearly to my feet,
then curving westward and pouring its frozen flood into a dark blue
lake, whose shores were bound with precipices of crystalline snow; while
a deep chasm drawn between the divide and the glacier separated the
massive picture from everything else. I could see only the one sublime
mountain, the one glacier, the one lake; the whole veiled with one blue
shadow--rock, ice, and water close together without a single leaf or
sign of life. After gazing spellbound, I began instinctively to
scrutinize every notch and gorge and weathered buttress of the mountain,
with reference to making the ascent. The entire front above the glacier
appeared as one tremendous precipice, slightly receding at the top, and
bristling with spires and pinnacles set above one another in formidable
array. Massive lichen-stained battlements stood forward here and there,
hacked at the top with angular notches, and separated by frosty gullies
and recesses that have been veiled in shadow ever since their creation;
while to right and left, as far as I could see, were huge, crumbling
buttresses, offering no hope to the climber. The head of the glacier
sends up a few finger-like branches through narrow _couloirs_; but
these seemed too steep and short to be available, especially as I had no
ax with which to cut steps, and the numerous narrow-throated gullies
down which stones and snow are avalanched seemed hopelessly steep,
besides being interrupted by vertical cliffs; while the whole front was
rendered still more terribly forbidding by the chill shadow and the
gloomy blackness of the rocks.
Descending the divide in a hesitating mood, I picked my way across the
yawning chasm at the foot, and climbed out upon the glacier. There were
no meadows now to cheer with their brave colors, nor could I hear the
dun-headed sparrows, whose cheery notes so often relieve the silence of
our highest mountains. The only sounds were the gurgling of small rills
down in the veins and crevasses of the glacier, and now and then the
rattling report of falling stones, with the echoes they shot out into
the crisp air.
I could not distinctly hope to reach the summit from this side, yet I
moved on across the glacier as if driven by fate. Contending with
myself, the season is too far spent, I said, and even should I be
successful, I might be storm-bound on the mountain; and in the
cloud-darkness, with the cliffs and crevasses covered with snow, how
could I escape? No; I must wait till next summer. I would only approach
the mountain now, and inspect it, creep about its flanks, learn what I
could of its history, holding myself ready to flee on the approach of
the first storm-cloud. But we little know until tried how much of the
uncontrollable there is in us, urging across glaciers and torrents, and
up dangerous heights, let the judgment forbid as it may.
I succeeded in gaining the foot of the cliff on the eastern extremity of
the glacier, and there discovered the mouth of a narrow avalanche gully,
through which I began to climb, intending to follow it as far as
possible, and at least obtain some fine wild views for my pains. Its
general course is oblique to the plane of the mountain-face, and the
metamorphic slates of which the mountain is built are cut by cleavage
planes in such a way that they weather off in angular blocks, giving
rise to irregular steps that greatly facilitate climbing on the sheer
places. I thus made my way into a wilderness of crumbling spires and
battlements, built together in bewildering combinations, and glazed in
many places with a thin coating of ice, which I had to hammer off with
stones. The situation was becoming gradually more perilous; but, having
passed several dangerous spots, I dared not think of descending; for, so
steep was the entire ascent, one would inevitably fall to the glacier in
case a single misstep were made. Knowing, therefore, the tried danger
beneath, I became all the more anxious concerning the developments to be
made above, and began to be conscious of a vague foreboding of what
actually befell; not that I was given to fear, but rather because my
instincts, usually so positive and true, seemed vitiated in some way,
and were leading me astray. At length, after attaining an elevation of
about 12,800 feet, I found myself at the foot of a sheer drop in the bed
of the avalanche channel I was tracing, which seemed absolutely to bar
further progress. It was only about forty-five or fifty feet high, and
somewhat roughened by fissures and projections; but these seemed so
slight and insecure, as footholds, that I tried hard to avoid the
precipice altogether, by scaling the wall of the channel on either side.
But, though less steep, the walls were smoother than the obstructing
rock, and repeated efforts only showed that I must either go right ahead
or turn back. The tried dangers beneath seemed even greater than that of
the cliff in front; therefore, after scanning its face again and again,
I began to scale it, picking my holds with intense caution. After
gaining a point about halfway to the top, I was suddenly brought to a
dead stop, with arms outspread, clinging close to the face of the rock,
unable to move hand or foot either up or down. My doom appeared fixed. I
_must_ fall. There would be a moment of bewilderment, and then a
lifeless rumble down the one general precipice to the glacier below.
When this final danger flashed upon me, I became nerve-shaken for the
first time since setting foot on the mountains, and my mind seemed to
fill with a stifling smoke. But this terrible eclipse lasted only a
moment, when life blazed forth again with preternatural clearness. I
seemed suddenly to become possessed of a new sense. The other self,
bygone experiences, Instinct, or Guardian Angel,--call it what you
will,--came forward and assumed control. Then my trembling muscles
became firm again, every rift and flaw in the rock was seen as through a
microscope, and my limbs moved with a positiveness and precision with
which I seemed to have nothing at all to do. Had I been borne aloft upon
wings, my deliverance could not have been more complete.
Above this memorable spot, the face of the mountain is still more
savagely hacked and torn. It is a maze of yawning chasms and gullies, in
the angles of which rise beetling crags and piles of detached boulders
that seem to have been gotten ready to be launched below. But the
strange influx of strength I had received seemed inexhaustible. I found
a way without effort, and soon stood upon the topmost crag in the
blessed light.
How truly glorious the landscape circled around this noble
summit!--giant mountains, valleys innumerable, glaciers and meadows,
rivers and lakes, with the wide blue sky bent tenderly over them all.
But in my first hour of freedom from that terrible shadow, the sunlight
in which I was laving seemed all in all.
Looking southward along the axis of the range, the eye is first caught
by a row of exceedingly sharp and slender spires, which rise openly to a
height of about a thousand feet, above a series of short, residual
glaciers that lean back against their bases; their fantastic sculpture
and the unrelieved sharpness with which they spring out of the ice
rendering them peculiarly wild and striking. These are "The Minarets."
Beyond them you behold a sublime wilderness of mountains, their snowy
summits towering together in crowded abundance, peak beyond peak,
swelling higher, higher as they sweep on southward, until the
culminating point of the range is reached on Mount Whitney, near the
head of the Kern River, at an elevation of nearly 14,700 feet above the
level of the sea.
Westward, the general flank of the range is seen flowing sublimely away
from the sharp summits, in smooth undulations; a sea of huge gray
granite waves dotted with lakes and meadows, and fluted with stupendous
canons that grow steadily deeper as they recede in the distance. Below
this gray region lies the dark forest zone, broken here and there by
upswelling ridges and domes; and yet beyond lies a yellow, hazy belt,
marking the broad plain of the San Joaquin, bounded on its farther side
by the blue mountains of the coast.
Turning now to the northward, there in the immediate foreground is the
glorious Sierra Crown, with Cathedral Peak, a temple of marvelous
architecture, a few degrees to the left of it; the gray, massive form of
Mammoth Mountain to the right; while Mounts Ord, Gibbs, Dana, Conness,
Tower Peak, Castle Peak, Silver Mountain, and a host of noble
companions, as yet nameless, make a sublime show along the axis of the
Eastward, the whole region seems a land of desolation covered with
beautiful light. The torrid volcanic basin of Mono, with its one bare
lake fourteen miles long; Owen's Valley and the broad lava table-land at
its head, dotted with craters, and the massive Inyo Range, rivaling even
the Sierra in height; these are spread, map-like, beneath you, with
countless ranges beyond, passing and overlapping one another and fading
on the glowing horizon.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY.]
At a distance of less than 3000 feet below the summit of Mount Ritter
you may find tributaries of the San Joaquin and Owen's rivers, bursting
forth from the ice and snow of the glaciers that load its flanks; while
a little to the north of here are found the highest affluents of the
Tuolumne and Merced. Thus, the fountains of four of the principal rivers
of California are within a radius of four or five miles.
Lakes are seen gleaming in all sorts of places,--round, or oval, or
square, like very mirrors; others narrow and sinuous, drawn close around
the peaks like silver zones, the highest reflecting only rocks, snow,
and the sky. But neither these nor the glaciers, nor the bits of brown
meadow and moorland that occur here and there, are large enough to make
any marked impression upon the mighty wilderness of mountains. The eye,
rejoicing in its freedom, roves about the vast expanse, yet returns
again and again to the fountain peaks. Perhaps some one of the multitude
excites special attention, some gigantic castle with turret and
battlement, or some Gothic cathedral more abundantly spired than
Milan's. But, generally, when looking for the first time from an
all-embracing standpoint like this, the inexperienced observer is
oppressed by the incomprehensible grandeur, variety, and abundance of
the mountains rising shoulder to shoulder beyond the reach of vision;
and it is only after they have been studied one by one, long and
lovingly, that their far-reaching harmonies become manifest. Then,
penetrate the wilderness where you may, the main telling features, to
which all the surrounding topography is subordinate, are quickly
perceived, and the most complicated clusters of peaks stand revealed
harmoniously correlated and fashioned like works of art--eloquent
monuments of the ancient ice-rivers that brought them into relief from
the general mass of the range. The canons, too, some of them a mile
deep, mazing wildly through the mighty host of mountains, however
lawless and ungovernable at first sight they appear, are at length
recognized as the necessary effects of causes which followed each other
in harmonious sequence--Nature's poems carved on tables of stone--the
simplest and most emphatic of her glacial compositions.
Could we have been here to observe during the glacial period, we should
have overlooked a wrinkled ocean of ice as continuous as that now
covering the landscapes of Greenland; filling every valley and canon
with only the tops of the fountain peaks rising darkly above the
rock-encumbered ice-waves like islets in a stormy sea--those islets the
only hints of the glorious landscapes now smiling in the sun. Standing
here in the deep, brooding silence all the wilderness seems motionless,
as if the work of creation were done. But in the midst of this outer
steadfastness we know there is incessant motion and change. Ever and
anon, avalanches are falling from yonder peaks. These cliff-bound
glaciers, seemingly wedged and immovable, are flowing like water and
grinding the rocks beneath them. The lakes are lapping their granite
shores and wearing them away, and every one of these rills and young
rivers is fretting the air into music, and carrying the mountains to the
plains. Here are the roots of all the life of the valleys, and here more
simply than elsewhere is the eternal flux of nature manifested. Ice
changing to water, lakes to meadows, and mountains to plains. And while
we thus contemplate Nature's methods of landscape creation, and, reading
the records she has carved on the rocks, reconstruct, however
imperfectly, the landscapes of the past, we also learn that as these we
now behold have succeeded those of the pre-glacial age, so they in turn
are withering and vanishing to be succeeded by others yet unborn.
But in the midst of these fine lessons and landscapes, I had to remember
that the sun was wheeling far to the west, while a new way down the
mountain had to be discovered to some point on the timber line where I
could have a fire; for I had not even burdened myself with a coat. I
first scanned the western spurs, hoping some way might appear through
which I might reach the northern glacier, and cross its snout; or pass
around the lake into which it flows, and thus strike my morning track.
This route was soon sufficiently unfolded to show that, if practicable
at all, it would require so much time that reaching camp that night
would be out of the question. I therefore scrambled back eastward,
descending the southern slopes obliquely at the same time. Here the
crags seemed less formidable, and the head of a glacier that flows
northeast came in sight, which I determined to follow as far as
possible, hoping thus to make my way to the foot of the peak on the east
side, and thence across the intervening canons and ridges to camp.
The inclination of the glacier is quite moderate at the head, and, as
the sun had softened the _neve_, I made safe and rapid progress,
running and sliding, and keeping up a sharp outlook for crevasses. About
half a mile from the head, there is an ice-cascade, where the glacier
pours over a sharp declivity and is shattered into massive blocks
separated by deep, blue fissures. To thread my way through the slippery
mazes of this crevassed portion seemed impossible, and I endeavored to
avoid it by climbing off to the shoulder of the mountain. But the slopes
rapidly steepened and at length fell away in sheer precipices,
compelling a return to the ice. Fortunately, the day had been warm
enough to loosen the ice-crystals so as to admit of hollows being dug in
the rotten portions of the blocks, thus enabling me to pick my way with
far less difficulty than I had anticipated. Continuing down over the
snout, and along the left lateral moraine, was only a confident saunter,
showing that the ascent of the mountain by way of this glacier is easy,
provided one is armed with an ax to cut steps here and there.
The lower end of the glacier was beautifully waved and barred by the
outcropping edges of the bedded ice-layers which represent the annual
snowfalls, and to some extent the irregularities of structure caused by
the weathering of the walls of crevasses, and by separate snowfalls
which have been followed by rain, hail, thawing and freezing, etc. Small
rills were gliding and swirling over the melting surface with a smooth,
oily appearance, in channels of pure ice--their quick, compliant
movements contrasting most impressively with the rigid, invisible flow
of the glacier itself, on whose back they all were riding.
Night drew near before I reached the eastern base of the mountain, and
my camp lay many a rugged mile to the north; but ultimate success was
assured. It was now only a matter of endurance and ordinary
mountain-craft. The sunset was, if possible, yet more beautiful than
that of the day before. The Mono landscape seemed to be fairly saturated
with warm, purple light. The peaks marshaled along the summit were in
shadow, but through every notch and pass streamed vivid sun-fire,
soothing and irradiating their rough, black angles, while companies of
small, luminous clouds hovered above them like very angels of light.
Darkness came on, but I found my way by the trends of the canons and the
peaks projected against the sky. All excitement died with the light, and
then I was weary. But the joyful sound of the waterfall across the lake
was heard at last, and soon the stars were seen reflected in the lake
itself. Taking my bearings from these, I discovered the little pine
thicket in which my nest was, and then I had a rest such as only a tired
mountaineer may enjoy. After lying loose and lost for awhile, I made a
sunrise fire, went down to the lake, dashed water on my head, and dipped
a cupful for tea. The revival brought about by bread and tea was as
complete as the exhaustion from excessive enjoyment and toil. Then I
crept beneath the pine-tassels to bed. The wind was frosty and the fire
burned low, but my sleep was none the less sound, and the evening
constellations had swept far to the west before I awoke.
After thawing and resting in the morning sunshine, I sauntered
home,--that is, back to the Tuolumne camp,--bearing away toward a
cluster of peaks that hold the fountain snows of one of the north
tributaries of Rush Creek. Here I discovered a group of beautiful
glacier lakes, nestled together in a grand amphitheater. Toward evening,
I crossed the divide separating the Mono waters from those of the
Tuolumne, and entered the glacier basin that now holds the fountain
snows of the stream that forms the upper Tuolumne cascades. This stream
I traced down through its many dells and gorges, meadows and bogs,
reaching the brink of the main Tuolumne at dusk.
A loud whoop for the artists was answered again and again. Their
camp-fire came in sight, and half an hour afterward I was with them.
They seemed unreasonably glad to see me. I had been absent only three
days; nevertheless, though the weather was fine, they had already been
weighing chances as to whether I would ever return, and trying to decide
whether they should wait longer or begin to seek their way back to the
lowlands. Now their curious troubles were over. They packed their
precious sketches, and next morning we set out homeward bound, and in
two days entered the Yosemite Valley from the north by way of Indian
The sustained grandeur of the High Sierra is strikingly illustrated by
the great height of the passes. Between latitude 36 deg. 20' and 38 deg. the
lowest pass, gap, gorge, or notch of any kind cutting across the axis of
the range, as far as I have discovered, exceeds 9000 feet in height
above the level of the sea; while the average height of all that are in
use, either by Indians or whites, is perhaps not less than 11,000 feet,
and not one of these is a carriage-pass.
Farther north a carriage-road has been constructed through what is known
as the Sonora Pass, on the head waters of the Stanislaus and Walker's
rivers, the summit of which is about 10,000 feet above the sea.
Substantial wagon-roads have also been built through the Carson and
Johnson passes, near the head of Lake Tahoe, over which immense
quantities of freight were hauled from California to the mining regions
of Nevada, before the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad.
Still farther north, a considerable number of comparatively low passes
occur, some of which are accessible to wheeled vehicles, and through
these rugged defiles during the exciting years of the gold period long
emigrant-trains with foot-sore cattle wearily toiled. After the
toil-worn adventurers had escaped a thousand dangers and had crawled
thousands of miles across the plains the snowy Sierra at last loomed in
sight, the eastern wall of the land of gold. And as with shaded eyes
they gazed through the tremulous haze of the desert, with what joy must
they have descried the pass through which they were to enter the better
land of their hopes and dreams!
Between the Sonora Pass and the southern extremity of the High Sierra, a
distance of nearly 160 miles, there are only five passes through which
trails conduct from one side of the range to the other. These are barely
practicable for animals; a pass in these regions meaning simply any
notch or canon through which one may, by the exercise of unlimited
patience, make out to lead a mule, or a sure-footed mustang; animals
that can slide or jump as well as walk. Only three of the five passes
may be said to be in use, viz.: the Kearsarge, Mono, and Virginia Creek;
the tracks leading through the others being only obscure Indian trails,
not graded in the least, and scarcely traceable by white men; for much
of the way is over solid rock and earthquake avalanche taluses, where
the unshod ponies of the Indians leave no appreciable sign. Only skilled
mountaineers are able to detect the marks that serve to guide the
Indians, such as slight abrasions of the looser rocks, the displacement
of stones here and there, and bent bushes and weeds. A general knowledge
of the topography is, then, the main guide, enabling one to determine
where the trail ought to go--_must_ go. One of these Indian trails
crosses the range by a nameless pass between the head waters of the
south and middle forks of the San Joaquin, the other between the north
and middle forks of the same river, just to the south of "The Minarets";
this last being about 9000 feet high, is the lowest of the five. The
Kearsarge is the highest, crossing the summit near the head of the south
fork of King's River, about eight miles to the north of Mount Tyndall,
through the midst of the most stupendous rock-scenery. The summit of
this pass is over 12,000 feet above sea-level; nevertheless, it is one
of the safest of the five, and is used every summer, from July to
October or November, by hunters, prospectors, and stock-owners, and to
some extent by enterprising pleasure-seekers also. For, besides the
surpassing grandeur of the scenery about the summit, the trail, in
ascending the western flank of the range, conducts through a grove of
the giant Sequoias, and through the magnificent Yosemite Valley of the
south fork of King's River. This is, perhaps, the highest traveled pass
on the North American continent.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY, SHOWING PRESENT RESERVATION
The Mono Pass lies to the east of Yosemite Valley, at the head of one of
the tributaries of the south fork of the Tuolumne. This is the best
known and most extensively traveled of all that exist in the High
Sierra. A trail was made through it about the time of the Mono gold
excitement, in the year 1858, by adventurous miners and prospectors--men
who would build a trail down the throat of darkest Erebus on the way to
gold. Though more than a thousand feet lower than the Kearsarge, it is
scarcely less sublime in rock-scenery, while in snowy, falling water it
far surpasses it. Being so favorably situated for the stream of Yosemite
travel, the more adventurous tourists cross over through this glorious
gateway to the volcanic region around Mono Lake. It has therefore gained
a name and fame above every other pass in the range. According to the
few barometrical observations made upon it, its highest point is 10,765
feet above the sea. The other pass of the five we have been considering
is somewhat lower, and crosses the axis of the range a few miles to the
north of the Mono Pass, at the head of the southernmost tributary of
Walker's River. It is used chiefly by roaming bands of the Pah Ute
Indians and "sheepmen."
But, leaving wheels and animals out of the question, the free
mountaineer with a sack of bread on his shoulders and an ax to cut steps
in ice and frozen snow can make his way across the range almost
everywhere, and at any time of year when the weather is calm. To him
nearly every notch between the peaks is a pass, though much patient
step-cutting is at times required up and down steeply inclined glaciers,
with cautious climbing over precipices that at first sight would seem
hopelessly inaccessible.
In pursuing my studies, I have crossed from side to side of the range at
intervals of a few miles all along the highest portion of the chain,
with far less real danger than one would naturally count on. And what
fine wildness was thus revealed--storms and avalanches, lakes and
waterfalls, gardens and meadows, and interesting animals--only those
will ever know who give the freest and most buoyant portion of their
lives to climbing and seeing for themselves.
To the timid traveler, fresh from the sedimentary levels of the
lowlands, these highways, however picturesque and grand, seem terribly
forbidding--cold, dead, gloomy gashes in the bones of the mountains, and
of all Nature's ways the ones to be most cautiously avoided. Yet they
are full of the finest and most telling examples of Nature's love; and
though hard to travel, none are safer. For they lead through regions
that lie far above the ordinary haunts of the devil, and of the
pestilence that walks in darkness. True, there are innumerable places
where the careless step will be the last step; and a rock falling from
the cliffs may crush without warning like lightning from the sky; but
what then! Accidents in the mountains are less common than in the
lowlands, and these mountain mansions are decent, delightful, even
divine, places to die in, compared with the doleful chambers of
civilization. Few places in this world are more dangerous than home.
Fear not, therefore, to try the mountain-passes. They will kill care,
save you from deadly apathy, set you free, and call forth every faculty
into vigorous, enthusiastic action. Even the sick should try these
so-called dangerous passes, because for every unfortunate they kill,
they cure a thousand.
All the passes make their steepest ascents on the eastern flank. On this
side the average rise is not far from a thousand feet to the mile, while
on the west it is about two hundred feet. Another marked difference
between the eastern and western portions of the passes is that the
former begin at the very foot of the range, while the latter can hardly
be said to begin lower than an elevation of from seven to ten thousand
feet. Approaching the range from the gray levels of Mono and Owen's
Valley on the east, the traveler sees before him the steep, short passes
in full view, fenced in by rugged spurs that come plunging down from the
shoulders of the peaks on either side, the courses of the more direct
being disclosed from top to bottom without interruption. But from the
west one sees nothing of the way he may be seeking until near the
summit, after days have been spent in threading the forests growing on
the main dividing ridges between the river canons.
It is interesting to observe how surely the alp-crossing animals of
every kind fall into the same trails. The more rugged and inaccessible
the general character of the topography of any particular region, the
more surely will the trails of white men, Indians, bears, wild sheep,
etc., be found converging into the best passes. The Indians of the
western slope venture cautiously over the passes in settled weather to
attend dances, and obtain loads of pine-nuts and the larvae of a small
fly that breeds in Mono and Owen's lakes, which, when dried, forms an
important article of food; while the Pah Utes cross over from the east
to hunt the deer and obtain supplies of acorns; and it is truly
astonishing to see what immense loads the haggard old squaws make out to
carry bare-footed through these rough passes, oftentimes for a distance
of sixty or seventy miles. They are always accompanied by the men, who
stride on, unburdened and erect, a little in advance, kindly stooping at
difficult places to pile stepping-stones for their patient, pack-animal
wives, just as they would prepare the way for their ponies.
Bears evince great sagacity as mountaineers, but although they are
tireless and enterprising travelers they seldom cross the range. I have
several times tracked them through the Mono Pass, but only in late
years, after cattle and sheep had passed that way, when they doubtless
were following to feed on the stragglers and on those that had been
killed by falling over the rocks. Even the wild sheep, the best
mountaineers of all, choose regular passes in making journeys across the
summits. Deer seldom cross the range in either direction. I have never
yet observed a single specimen of the mule-deer of the Great Basin west
of the summit, and rarely one of the black-tailed species on the eastern
slope, notwithstanding many of the latter ascend the range nearly to the
summit every summer, to feed in the wild gardens and bring forth their
The glaciers are the pass-makers, and it is by them that the courses of
all mountaineers are predestined. Without exception every pass in the
Sierra was created by them without the slightest aid or predetermining
guidance from any of the cataclysmic agents. I have seen elaborate
statements of the amount of drilling and blasting accomplished in the
construction of the railroad across the Sierra, above Donner Lake; but
for every pound of rock moved in this way, the glaciers which descended
east and west through this same pass, crushed and carried away more than
a hundred tons.
The so-called practicable road-passes are simply those portions of the
range more degraded by glacial action than the adjacent portions, and
degraded in such a way as to leave the summits rounded, instead of
sharp; while the peaks, from the superior strength and hardness of their
rocks, or from more favorable position, having suffered less
degradation, are left towering above the passes as if they had been
heaved into the sky by some force acting from beneath.
The scenery of all the passes, especially at the head, is of the wildest
and grandest description,--lofty peaks massed together and laden around
their bases with ice and snow; chains of glacier lakes; cascading
streams in endless variety, with glorious views, westward over a sea of
rocks and woods, and eastward over strange ashy plains, volcanoes, and
the dry, dead-looking ranges of the Great Basin. Every pass, however,
possesses treasures of beauty all its own.
Having thus in a general way indicated the height, leading features, and
distribution of the principal passes, I will now endeavor to describe
the Mono Pass in particular, which may, I think, be regarded as a fair
example of the higher alpine passes in general.
The main portion of the Mono Pass is formed by Bloody Canon, which
begins at the summit of the range, and runs in a general
east-northeasterly direction to the edge of the Mono Plain.
The first white men who forced a way through its somber depths were, as
we have seen, eager gold-seekers. But the canon was known and traveled
as a pass by the Indians and mountain animals long before its discovery
by white men, as is shown by the numerous tributary trails which come
into it from every direction. Its name accords well with the character
of the "early times" in California, and may perhaps have been suggested
by the predominant color of the metamorphic slates in which it is in
great part eroded; or more probably by blood-stains made by the
unfortunate animals which were compelled to slip and shuffle awkwardly
over its rough, cutting rocks. I have never known an animal, either mule
or horse, to make its way through the canon, either in going up or down,
without losing more or less blood from wounds on the legs. Occasionally
one is killed outright--falling headlong and rolling over precipices
like a boulder. But such accidents are rarer than from the terrible
appearance of the trail one would be led to expect; the more experienced
when driven loose find their way over the dangerous places with a
caution and sagacity that is truly wonderful. During the gold excitement
it was at times a matter of considerable pecuniary importance to force a
way through the canon with pack-trains early in the spring while it was
yet heavily blocked with snow; and then the mules with their loads had
sometimes to be let down over the steepest drifts and avalanche beds by
means of ropes.
A good bridle-path leads from Yosemite through many a grove and meadow
up to the head of the canon, a distance of about thirty miles. Here the
scenery undergoes a sudden and startling condensation. Mountains, red,
gray, and black, rise close at hand on the right, whitened around their
bases with banks of enduring snow; on the left swells the huge red mass
of Mount Gibbs, while in front the eye wanders down the shadowy canon,
and out on the warm plain of Mono, where the lake is seen gleaming like
a burnished metallic disk, with clusters of lofty volcanic cones to the
south of it.
When at length we enter the mountain gateway, the somber rocks seem
aware of our presence, and seem to come thronging closer about us.
Happily the ouzel and the old familiar robin are here to sing us
welcome, and azure daisies beam with trustfulness and sympathy, enabling
us to feel something of Nature's love even here, beneath the gaze of her
coldest rocks.
The effect of this expressive outspokenness on the part of the
canon-rocks is greatly enhanced by the quiet aspect of the alpine
meadows through which we pass just before entering the narrow gateway.
The forests in which they lie, and the mountain-tops rising beyond them,
seem quiet and tranquil. We catch their restful spirit, yield to the
soothing influences of the sunshine, and saunter dreamily on through
flowers and bees, scarce touched by a definite thought; then suddenly we
find ourselves in the shadowy canon, closeted with Nature in one of her
wildest strongholds.
After the first bewildering impression begins to wear off, we perceive
that it is not altogether terrible; for besides the reassuring birds and
flowers we discover a chain of shining lakelets hanging down from the
very summit of the pass, and linked together by a silvery stream. The
highest are set in bleak, rough bowls, scantily fringed with brown and
yellow sedges. Winter storms blow snow through the canon in blinding
drifts, and avalanches shoot from the heights. Then are these sparkling
tarns filled and buried, leaving not a hint of their existence. In June
and July they begin to blink and thaw out like sleepy eyes, the carices
thrust up their short brown spikes, the daisies bloom in turn, and the
most profoundly buried of them all is at length warmed and summered as
if winter were only a dream.
Red Lake is the lowest of the chain, and also the largest. It seems
rather dull and forbidding at first sight, lying motionless in its deep,
dark bed. The canon wall rises sheer from the water's edge on the south,
but on the opposite side there is sufficient space and sunshine for a
sedgy daisy garden, the center of which is brilliantly lighted with
lilies, castilleias, larkspurs, and columbines, sheltered from the wind
by leafy willows, and forming a most joyful outburst of plant-life
keenly emphasized by the chill baldness of the onlooking cliffs.
After indulging here in a dozing, shimmering lake-rest, the happy stream
sets forth again, warbling and trilling like an ouzel, ever delightfully
confiding, no matter how dark the way; leaping, gliding, hither,
thither, clear or foaming: manifesting the beauty of its wildness in
every sound and gesture.
One of its most beautiful developments is the Diamond Cascade, situated
a short distance below Red Lake. Here the tense, crystalline water is
first dashed into coarse, granular spray mixed with dusty foam, and then
divided into a diamond pattern by following the diagonal cleavage-joints
that intersect the face of the precipice over which it pours. Viewed in
front, it resembles a strip of embroidery of definite pattern, varying
through the seasons with the temperature and the volume of water. Scarce
a flower may be seen along its snowy border. A few bent pines look on
from a distance, and small fringes of cassiope and rock-ferns are
growing in fissures near the head, but these are so lowly and
undemonstrative that only the attentive observer will be likely to
notice them.
On the north wall of the canon, a little below the Diamond Cascade, a
glittering side stream makes its appearance, seeming to leap directly
out of the sky. It first resembles a crinkled ribbon of silver hanging
loosely down the wall, but grows wider as it descends, and dashes the
dull rock with foam. A long rough talus curves up against this part of
the cliff, overgrown with snow-pressed willows, in which the fall
disappears with many an eager surge and swirl and plashing leap, finally
beating its way down to its confluence with the main canon stream.
Below this point the climate is no longer arctic. Butterflies become
larger and more abundant, grasses with imposing spread of panicle wave
above your shoulders, and the summery drone of the bumblebee thickens
the air. The Dwarf Pine, the tree-mountaineer that climbs highest and
braves the coldest blasts, is found scattered in storm-beaten clumps from
the summit of the pass about half-way down the canon. Here it is
succeeded by the hardy Two-leaved Pine, which is speedily joined by the
taller Yellow and Mountain Pines. These, with the burly juniper, and
shimmering aspen, rapidly grow larger as the sunshine becomes richer,
forming groves that block the view; or they stand more apart here and
there in picturesque groups, that make beautiful and obvious harmony
with the rocks and with one another. Blooming underbrush becomes
abundant,--azalea, spiraea, and the brier-rose weaving fringes for the
streams, and shaggy rugs to relieve the stern, unflinching rock-bosses.
Through this delightful wilderness, Canon Creek roves without any
constraining channel, throbbing and wavering; now in sunshine, now in
thoughtful shade; falling, swirling, flashing from side to side in
weariless exuberance of energy. A glorious milky way of cascades is thus
developed, of which Bower Cascade, though one of the smallest, is
perhaps the most beautiful of them all. It is situated in the lower
region of the pass, just where the sunshine begins to mellow between the
cold and warm climates. Here the glad creek, grown strong with tribute
gathered from many a snowy fountain on the heights, sings richer
strains, and becomes more human and lovable at every step. Now you may
by its side find the rose and homely yarrow, and small meadows full of
bees and clover. At the head of a low-browed rock, luxuriant dogwood
bushes and willows arch over from bank to bank, embowering the stream
with their leafy branches; and drooping plumes, kept in motion by the
current, fringe the brow of the cascade in front. From this leafy covert
the stream leaps out into the light in a fluted curve thick sown with
sparkling crystals, and falls into a pool filled with brown boulders,
out of which it creeps gray with foam-bells and disappears in a tangle
of verdure like that from which it came.
Hence, to the foot of the canon, the metamorphic slates give place to
granite, whose nobler sculpture calls forth expressions of corresponding
beauty from the stream in passing over it,--bright trills of rapids,
booming notes of falls, solemn hushes of smooth-gliding sheets, all
chanting and blending in glorious harmony. When, at length, its
impetuous alpine life is done, it slips through a meadow with scarce an
audible whisper, and falls asleep in Moraine Lake.
This water-bed is one of the finest I ever saw. Evergreens wave
soothingly about it, and the breath of flowers floats over it like
incense. Here our blessed stream rests from its rocky wanderings, all
its mountaineering done,--no more foaming rock-leaping, no more wild,
exulting song. It falls into a smooth, glassy sleep, stirred only by the
night-wind, which, coming down the canon, makes it croon and mutter in
ripples along its broidered shores.
Leaving the lake, it glides quietly through the rushes, destined never
more to touch the living rock. Henceforth its path lies through ancient
moraines and reaches of ashy sage-plain, which nowhere afford rocks
suitable for the development of cascades or sheer falls. Yet this beauty
of maturity, though less striking, is of a still higher order, enticing
us lovingly on through gentian meadows and groves of rustling aspen to
Lake Mono, where, spirit-like, our happy stream vanishes in vapor, and
floats free again in the sky.
Bloody Canon, like every other in the Sierra, was recently occupied by a
glacier, which derived its fountain snows from the adjacent summits, and
descended into Mono Lake, at a time when its waters stood at a much
higher level than now. The principal characters in which the history of
the ancient glaciers is preserved are displayed here in marvelous
freshness and simplicity, furnishing the student with extraordinary
advantages for the acquisition of knowledge of this sort. The most
striking passages are polished and striated surfaces, which in many
places reflect the rays of the sun like smooth water. The dam of Red
Lake is an elegantly modeled rib of metamorphic slate, brought into
relief because of its superior strength, and because of the greater
intensity of the glacial erosion of the rock immediately above it,
caused by a steeply inclined tributary glacier, which entered the main
trunk with a heavy down-thrust at the head of the lake.
Moraine Lake furnishes an equally interesting example of a basin formed
wholly, or in part, by a terminal moraine dam curved across the path of
a stream between two lateral moraines.
At Moraine Lake the canon proper terminates, although apparently
continued by the two lateral moraines of the vanished glacier. These
moraines are about 300 feet high, and extend unbrokenly from the sides
of the canon into the plain, a distance of about five miles, curving and
tapering in beautiful lines. Their sunward sides are gardens, their
shady sides are groves; the former devoted chiefly to eriogonae,
compositae, and graminae; a square rod containing five or six profusely
flowered eriogonums of several species, about the same number of bahia
and linosyris, and a few grass tufts; each species being planted trimly
apart, with bare gravel between, as if cultivated artificially.
My first visit to Bloody Canon was made in the summer of 1869, under
circumstances well calculated to heighten the impressions that are the
peculiar offspring of mountains. I came from the blooming tangles of
Florida, and waded out into the plant-gold of the great valley of
California, when its flora was as yet untrodden. Never before had I
beheld congregations of social flowers half so extensive or half so
glorious. Golden composite covered all the ground from the Coast Range
to the Sierra like a stratum of curdled sunshine, in which I reveled for
weeks, watching the rising and setting of their innumerable suns; then I
gave myself up to be borne forward on the crest of the summer wave that
sweeps annually up the Sierra and spends itself on the snowy summits.
At the Big Tuolumne Meadows I remained more than a month, sketching,
botanizing, and climbing among the surrounding mountains. The
mountaineer with whom I then happened to be camping was one of those
remarkable men one so frequently meets in California, the hard angles
and bosses of whose characters have been brought into relief by the
grinding excitements of the gold period, until they resemble glacial
landscapes. But at this late day, my friend's activities had subsided,
and his craving for rest caused him to become a gentle shepherd and
literally to lie down with the lamb.
Recognizing the unsatisfiable longings of my Scotch Highland instincts,
he threw out some hints concerning Bloody Canon, and advised me to
explore it. "I have never seen it myself," he said, "for I never was so
unfortunate as to pass that way. But I have heard many a strange story
about it, and I warrant you will at least find it wild enough."
Then of course I made haste to see it. Early next morning I made up a
bundle of bread, tied my note-book to my belt, and strode away in the
bracing air, full of eager, indefinite hope. The plushy lawns that lay
in my path served to soothe my morning haste. The sod in many places was
starred with daisies and blue gentians, over which I lingered. I traced
the paths of the ancient glaciers over many a shining pavement, and
marked the gaps in the upper forests that told the power of the winter
avalanches. Climbing higher, I saw for the first time the gradual
dwarfing of the pines in compliance with climate, and on the summit
discovered creeping mats of the arctic willow overgrown with silky
catkins, and patches of the dwarf vaccinium with its round flowers
sprinkled in the grass like purple hail; while in every direction the
landscape stretched sublimely away in fresh wildness--a manuscript
written by the hand of Nature alone.
At length, as I entered the pass, the huge rocks began to close around
in all their wild, mysterious impressiveness, when suddenly, as I was
gazing eagerly about me, a drove of gray hairy beings came in sight,
lumbering toward me with a kind of boneless, wallowing motion like
I never turn back, though often so inclined, and in this particular
instance, amid such surroundings, everything seemed singularly
unfavorable for the calm acceptance of so grim a company. Suppressing my
fears, I soon discovered that although as hairy as bears and as crooked
as summit pines, the strange creatures were sufficiently erect to belong
to our own species. They proved to be nothing more formidable than Mono
Indians dressed in the skins of sage-rabbits. Both the men and the women
begged persistently for whisky and tobacco, and seemed so accustomed to
denials that I found it impossible to convince them that I had none to
give. Excepting the names of these two products of civilization, they
seemed to understand not a word of English; but I afterward learned that
they were on their way to Yosemite Valley to feast awhile on trout and
procure a load of acorns to carry back through the pass to their huts on
the shore of Mono Lake.
Occasionally a good countenance may be seen among the Mono Indians, but
these, the first specimens I had seen, were mostly ugly, and some of
them altogether hideous. The dirt on their faces was fairly stratified,
and seemed so ancient and so undisturbed it might almost possess a
geological significance. The older faces were, moreover, strangely
blurred and divided into sections by furrows that looked like the
cleavage-joints of rocks, suggesting exposure on the mountains in a
castaway condition for ages. Somehow they seemed to have no right place
in the landscape, and I was glad to see them fading out of sight down
Then came evening, and the somber cliffs were inspired with the
ineffable beauty of the alpenglow. A solemn calm fell upon everything.
All the lower portion of the canon was in gloaming shadow, and I crept
into a hollow near one of the upper lakelets to smooth the ground in a
sheltered nook for a bed. When the short twilight faded, I kindled a
sunny fire, made a cup of tea, and lay down to rest and look at the
stars. Soon the night-wind began to flow and pour in torrents among the
jagged peaks, mingling strange tones with those of the waterfalls
sounding far below; and as I drifted toward sleep I began to experience
an uncomfortable feeling of nearness to the furred Monos. Then the full
moon looked down over the edge of the canon wall, her countenance
seemingly filled with intense concern, and apparently so near as to
produce a startling effect as if she had entered my bedroom, forgetting
all the world, to gaze on me alone.
The night was full of strange sounds, and I gladly welcomed the morning.
Breakfast was soon done, and I set forth in the exhilarating freshness
of the new day, rejoicing in the abundance of pure wildness so close
about me. The stupendous rocks, hacked and scarred with centuries of
storms, stood sharply out in the thin early light, while down in the
bottom of the canon grooved and polished bosses heaved and glistened
like swelling sea-waves, telling a grand old story of the ancient
glacier that poured its crushing floods above them.
Here for the first time I met the arctic daisies in all their perfection
of purity and spirituality,--gentle mountaineers face to face with the
stormy sky, kept safe and warm by a thousand miracles. I leaped lightly
from rock to rock, glorying in the eternal freshness and sufficiency of
Nature, and in the ineffable tenderness with which she nurtures her
mountain darlings in the very fountains of storms. Fresh beauty appeared
at every step, delicate rock-ferns, and groups of the fairest flowers.
Now another lake came to view, now a waterfall. Never fell light in
brighter spangles, never fell water in whiter foam. I seemed to float
through the canon enchanted, feeling nothing of its roughness, and was
out in the Mono levels before I was aware.
Looking back from the shore of Moraine Lake, my morning ramble seemed
all a dream. There curved Bloody Canon, a mere glacial furrow 2000 feet
deep, with smooth rocks projecting from the sides and braided together
in the middle, like bulging, swelling muscles. Here the lilies were
higher than my head, and the sunshine was warm enough for palms. Yet the
snow around the arctic willows was plainly visible only four miles away,
and between were narrow specimen zones of all the principal climates of
On the bank of a small brook that comes gurgling down the side of the
left lateral moraine, I found a camp-fire still burning, which no doubt
belonged to the gray Indians I had met on the summit, and I listened
instinctively and moved cautiously forward, half expecting to see some
of their grim faces peering out of the bushes.
Passing on toward the open plain, I noticed three well-defined terminal
moraines curved gracefully across the canon stream, and joined by long
splices to the two noble laterals. These mark the halting-places of the
vanished glacier when it was retreating into its summit shadows on the
breaking-up of the glacial winter.
Five miles below the foot of Moraine Lake, just where the lateral
moraines lose themselves in the plain, there was a field of wild rye,
growing in magnificent waving bunches six to eight feet high, bearing
heads from six to twelve inches long. Rubbing out some of the grains, I
found them about five eighths of an inch long, dark-colored, and sweet.
Indian women were gathering it in baskets, bending down large handfuls,
beating it out, and fanning it in the wind. They were quite picturesque,
coming through the rye, as one caught glimpses of them here and there,
in winding lanes and openings, with splendid tufts arching above their
heads, while their incessant chat and laughter showed their heedless
Like the rye-field, I found the so-called desert of Mono blooming in a
high state of natural cultivation with the wild rose, cherry, aster, and
the delicate abronia; also innumerable gilias, phloxes, poppies, and
bush-compositae. I observed their gestures and the various expressions
of their corollas, inquiring how they could be so fresh and beautiful
out in this volcanic desert. They told as happy a life as any
plant-company I ever met, and seemed to enjoy even the hot sand and the
But the vegetation of the pass has been in great part destroyed, and the
same may be said of all the more accessible passes throughout the range.
Immense numbers of starving sheep and cattle have been driven through
them into Nevada, trampling the wild gardens and meadows almost out of
existence. The lofty walls are untouched by any foot, and the falls sing
on unchanged; but the sight of crushed flowers and stripped, bitten
bushes goes far toward destroying the charm of wildness.
The canon should be seen in winter. A good, strong traveler, who knows
the way and the weather, might easily make a safe excursion through it
from Yosemite Valley on snow-shoes during some tranquil time, when the
storms are hushed. The lakes and falls would be buried then; but so,
also, would be the traces of destructive feet, while the views of the
mountains in their winter garb, and the ride at lightning speed down the
pass between the snowy walls, would be truly glorious.
[Illustration: VIEW OF THE MONO PLAIN FROM THE FOOT OF BLOODY CANON.]
THE GLACIER LAKES
Among the many unlooked-for treasures that are bound up and hidden away
in the depths of Sierra solitudes, none more surely charm and surprise
all kinds of travelers than the glacier lakes. The forests and the
glaciers and the snowy fountains of the streams advertise their wealth
in a more or less telling manner even in the distance, but nothing is
seen of the lakes until we have climbed above them. All the upper
branches of the rivers are fairly laden with lakes, like orchard trees
with fruit. They lie embosomed in the deep woods, down in the grovy
bottoms of canons, high on bald tablelands, and around the feet of the
icy peaks, mirroring back their wild beauty over and over again. Some
conception of their lavish abundance may be made from the fact that,
from one standpoint on the summit of Red Mountain, a day's journey to
the east of Yosemite Valley, no fewer than forty-two are displayed
within a radius of ten miles. The whole number in the Sierra can hardly
be less than fifteen hundred, not counting the smaller pools and tarns,
which are innumerable. Perhaps two thirds or more lie on the western
flank of the range, and all are restricted to the alpine and subalpine
regions. At the close of the last glacial period, the middle and
foot-hill regions also abounded in lakes, all of which have long since
vanished as completely as the magnificent ancient glaciers that brought
them into existence.
Though the eastern flank of the range is excessively steep, we find
lakes pretty regularly distributed throughout even the most precipitous
portions. They are mostly found in the upper branches of the canons, and
in the glacial amphitheaters around the peaks.
Occasionally long, narrow specimens occur upon the steep sides of
dividing ridges, their basins swung lengthwise like hammocks, and very
rarely one is found lying so exactly on the summit of the range at the
head of some pass that its waters are discharged down both flanks when
the snow is melting fast. But, however situated, they soon cease to form
surprises to the studious mountaineer; for, like all the love-work of
Nature, they are harmoniously related to one another, and to all the
other features of the mountains. It is easy, therefore, to find the
bright lake-eyes in the roughest and most ungovernable-looking
topography of any landscape countenance. Even in the lower regions,
where they have been closed for many a century, their rocky orbits are
still discernible, filled in with the detritus of flood and avalanche. A
beautiful system of grouping in correspondence with the glacial
fountains is soon perceived; also their extension in the direction of
the trends of the ancient glaciers; and in general their dependence as
to form, size, and position upon the character of the rocks in which
their basins have been eroded, and the quantity and direction of
application of the glacial force expended upon each basin.
In the upper canons we usually find them in pretty regular succession,
strung together like beads on the bright ribbons of their
feeding-streams, which pour, white and gray with foam and spray, from
one to the other, their perfect mirror stillness making impressive
contrasts with the grand blare and glare of the connecting cataracts. In
Lake Hollow, on the north side of the Hoffman spur, immediately above
the great Tuolumne canon, there are ten lovely lakelets lying near
together in one general hollow, like eggs in a nest. Seen from above, in
a general view, feathered with Hemlock Spruce, and fringed with sedge,
they seem to me the most singularly beautiful and interestingly located
lake-cluster I have ever yet discovered.
Lake Tahoe, 22 miles long by about 10 wide, and from 500 to over 1600
feet in depth, is the largest of all the Sierra lakes. It lies just
beyond the northern limit of the higher portion of the range between the
main axis and a spur that puts out on the east side from near the head
of the Carson River. Its forested shores go curving in and out around
many an emerald bay and pine-crowned promontory, and its waters are
everywhere as keenly pure as any to be found among the highest
Donner Lake, rendered memorable by the terrible fate of the Donner
party, is about three miles long, and lies about ten miles to the north
of Tahoe, at the head of one of the tributaries of the Truckee. A few
miles farther north lies Lake Independence, about the same size as
Donner. But far the greater number of the lakes lie much higher and are
quite small, few of them exceeding a mile in length, most of them less
than half a mile.
Along the lower edge of the lake-belt, the smallest have disappeared by
the filling-in of their basins, leaving only those of considerable size.
But all along the upper freshly glaciated margin of the lake-bearing
zone, every hollow, however small, lying within reach of any portion of
the close network of streams, contains a bright, brimming pool; so that
the landscape viewed from the mountain-tops seems to be sown broadcast
with them. Many of the larger lakes are encircled with smaller ones like
central gems girdled with sparkling brilliants. In general, however,
there is no marked dividing line as to size. In order, therefore, to
prevent confusion, I would state here that in giving numbers, I include
none less than 500 yards in circumference.
In the basin of the Merced River, I counted 131, of which 111 are upon
the tributaries that fall so grandly into Yosemite Valley. Pohono Creek,
which forms the fall of that name, takes its rise in a beautiful lake,
lying beneath the shadow of a lofty granite spur that puts out from
Buena Vista peak. This is now the only lake left in the whole Pohono
Basin. The Illilouette has sixteen, the Nevada no fewer than
sixty-seven, the Tenaya eight, Hoffmann Creek five, and Yosemite Creek
fourteen. There are but two other lake-bearing affluents of the Merced,
viz., the South Fork with fifteen, and Cascade Creek with five, both of
which unite with the main trunk below Yosemite.
[Illustration: LAKE TENAYA, ONE OF THE YOSEMITE FOUNTAINS.]
The Merced River, as a whole, is remarkably like an elm-tree, and it
requires but little effort on the part of the imagination to picture it
standing upright, with all its lakes hanging upon its spreading
branches, the topmost eighty miles in height. Now add all the other
lake-bearing rivers of the Sierra, each in its place, and you will have
a truly glorious spectacle,--an avenue the length and width of the
range; the long, slender, gray shafts of the main trunks, the milky way
of arching branches, and the silvery lakes, all clearly defined and
shining on the sky. How excitedly such an addition to the scenery would
be gazed at! Yet these lakeful rivers are still more excitingly
beautiful and impressive in their natural positions to those who have
the eyes to see them as they lie imbedded in their meadows and forests
and glacier-sculptured rocks.
When a mountain lake is born,--when, like a young eye, it first opens to
the light,--it is an irregular, expressionless crescent, inclosed in
banks of rock and ice,--bare, glaciated rock on the lower side, the
rugged snout of a glacier on the upper. In this condition it remains for
many a year, until at length, toward the end of some auspicious cluster
of seasons, the glacier recedes beyond the upper margin of the basin,
leaving it open from shore to shore for the first time, thousands of
years after its conception beneath the glacier that excavated its basin.
The landscape, cold and bare, is reflected in its pure depths; the winds
ruffle its glassy surface, and the sun fills it with throbbing spangles,
while its waves begin to lap and murmur around its leafless
shores,--sun-spangles during the day and reflected stars at night its
only flowers, the winds and the snow its only visitors. Meanwhile, the
glacier continues to recede, and numerous rills, still younger than the
lake itself, bring down glacier-mud, sand-grains, and pebbles, giving
rise to margin-rings and plats of soil. To these fresh soil-beds come
many a waiting plant. First, a hardy carex with arching leaves and a
spike of brown flowers; then, as the seasons grow warmer, and the
soil-beds deeper and wider, other sedges take their appointed places,
and these are joined by blue gentians, daisies, dodecatheons, violets,
honeyworts, and many a lowly moss. Shrubs also hasten in time to the new
gardens,--kalmia with its glossy leaves and purple flowers, the arctic
willow, making soft woven carpets, together with the heathy bryanthus
and cassiope, the fairest and dearest of them all. Insects now enrich
the air, frogs pipe cheerily in the shallows, soon followed by the
ouzel, which is the first bird to visit a glacier lake, as the sedge is
the first of plants.
So the young lake grows in beauty, becoming more and more humanly
lovable from century to century. Groves of aspen spring up, and hardy
pines, and the Hemlock Spruce, until it is richly overshadowed and
embowered. But while its shores are being enriched, the soil-beds creep
out with incessant growth, contracting its area, while the lighter
mud-particles deposited on the bottom cause it to grow constantly
shallower, until at length the last remnant of the lake
vanishes,--closed forever in ripe and natural old age. And now its
feeding-stream goes winding on without halting through the new gardens
and groves that have taken its place.
The length of the life of any lake depends ordinarily upon the capacity
of its basin, as compared with the carrying power of the streams that
flow into it, the character of the rocks over which these streams flow,
and the relative position of the lake toward other lakes. In a series
whose basins lie in the same canon, and are fed by one and the same main
stream, the uppermost will, of course, vanish first unless some other
lake-filling agent comes in to modify the result; because at first it
receives nearly all of the sediments that the stream brings down, only
the finest of the mud-particles being carried through the highest of the
series to the next below. Then the next higher, and the next would be
successively filled, and the lowest would be the last to vanish. But
this simplicity as to duration is broken in upon in various ways,
chiefly through the action of side-streams that enter the lower lakes
direct. For, notwithstanding many of these side tributaries are quite
short, and, during late summer, feeble, they all become powerful
torrents in springtime when the snow is melting, and carry not only sand
and pine-needles, but large trunks and boulders tons in weight, sweeping
them down their steeply inclined channels and into the lake basins with
astounding energy. Many of these side affluents also have the advantage
of access to the main lateral moraines of the vanished glacier that
occupied the canon, and upon these they draw for lake-filling material,
while the main trunk stream flows mostly over clean glacier pavements,
where but little moraine matter is ever left for them to carry. Thus a
small rapid stream with abundance of loose transportable material within
its reach may fill up an extensive basin in a few centuries, while a
large perennial trunk stream, flowing over clean, enduring pavements,
though ordinarily a hundred times larger, may not fill a smaller basin
in thousands of years.
The comparative influence of great and small streams as lake-fillers is
strikingly illustrated in Yosemite Valley, through which the Merced
flows. The bottom of the valley is now composed of level meadow-lands
and dry, sloping soil-beds planted with oak and pine, but it was once a
lake stretching from wall to wall and nearly from one end of the valley
to the other, forming one of the most beautiful cliff-bound sheets of
water that ever existed in the Sierra. And though never perhaps seen by
human eye, it was but yesterday, geologically speaking, since it
disappeared, and the traces of its existence are still so fresh, it may
easily be restored to the eye of imagination and viewed in all its
grandeur, about as truly and vividly as if actually before us. Now we
find that the detritus which fills this magnificent basin was not
brought down from the distant mountains by the main streams that
converge here to form the river, however powerful and available for the
purpose at first sight they appear; but almost wholly by the small local
tributaries, such as those of Indian Canon, the Sentinel, and the Three
Brothers, and by a few small residual glaciers which lingered in the
shadows of the walls long after the main trunk glacier had receded
beyond the head of the valley.
Had the glaciers that once covered the range been melted at once,
leaving the entire surface bare from top to bottom simultaneously, then
of course all the lakes would have come into existence at the same time,
and the highest, other circumstances being equal, would, as we have
seen, be the first to vanish. But because they melted gradually from the
foot of the range upward, the lower lakes were the first to see the
light and the first to be obliterated. Therefore, instead of finding the
lakes of the present day at the foot of the range, we find them at the
top. Most of the lower lakes vanished thousands of years before those
now brightening the alpine landscapes were born. And in general, owing
to the deliberation of the upward retreat of the glaciers, the lowest of
the existing lakes are also the oldest, a gradual transition being
apparent throughout the entire belt, from the older, forested,
meadow-rimmed and contracted forms all the way up to those that are new
born, lying bare and meadowless among the highest peaks.
[Illustration: THE DEATH OF A LAKE.]
A few small lakes unfortunately situated are extinguished suddenly by a
single swoop of an avalanche, carrying down immense numbers of trees,
together with the soil they were growing upon. Others are obliterated by
land-slips, earthquake taluses, etc., but these lake-deaths compared
with those resulting from the deliberate and incessant deposition of
sediments, may be termed accidental. Their fate is like that of trees
struck by lightning.
The lake-line is of course still rising, its present elevation being
about 8000 feet above sea-level; somewhat higher than this toward the
southern extremity of the range, lower toward the northern, on account
of the difference in time of the withdrawal of the glaciers, due to
difference in climate. Specimens occur here and there considerably below
this limit, in basins specially protected from inwashing detritus, or
exceptional in size. These, however, are not sufficiently numerous to
make any marked irregularity in the line. The highest I have yet found
lies at an elevation of about 12,000 feet, in a glacier womb, at the
foot of one of the highest of the summit peaks, a few miles to the north
of Mount Hitter. The basins of perhaps twenty-five or thirty are still
in process of formation beneath the few lingering glaciers, but by the
time they are born, an equal or greater number will probably have died.
Since the beginning of the close of the ice-period the whole number in
the range has perhaps never been greater than at present.
A rough approximation to the average duration of these mountain lakes
may be made from data already suggested, but I cannot stop here to
present the subject in detail. I must also forego, in the mean time, the
pleasure of a full discussion of the interesting question of lake-basin
formation, for which fine, clear, demonstrative material abounds in
these mountains. In addition to what has been already given on the
subject, I will only make this one statement. Every lake in the Sierra
is a glacier lake. Their basins were not merely remodeled and scoured
out by this mighty agent, but in the first place were eroded from the
I must now make haste to give some nearer views of representative
specimens lying at different elevations on the main lake-belt, confining
myself to descriptions of the features most characteristic of each.
This is a fine specimen of the oldest and lowest of the existing lakes.
It lies about eight miles above Yosemite Valley, on the main branch of
the Merced, at an elevation of about 7350 feet above the sea; and is
everywhere so securely cliff-bound that without artificial trails only
wild animals can get down to its rocky shores from any direction. Its
original length was about a mile and a half; now it is only half a mile
in length by about a fourth of a mile in width, and over the lowest
portion of the basin ninety-eight feet deep. Its crystal waters are
clasped around on the north and south by majestic granite walls
sculptured in true Yosemitic style into domes, gables, and battlemented
headlands, which on the south come plunging down sheer into deep water,
from a height of from 1500 to 2000 feet. The South Lyell glacier eroded
this magnificent basin out of solid porphyritic granite while forcing
its way westward from the summit fountains toward Yosemite, and the
exposed rocks around the shores, and the projecting bosses of the walls,
ground and burnished beneath the vast ice-flood, still glow with silvery
radiance, notwithstanding the innumerable corroding storms that have
fallen upon them. The general conformation of the basin, as well as the
moraines laid along the top of the walls, and the grooves and scratches
on the bottom and sides, indicate in the most unmistakable manner the
direction pursued by this mighty ice-river, its great depth, and the
tremendous energy it exerted in thrusting itself into and out of the
basin; bearing down with superior pressure upon this portion of its
channel, because of the greater declivity, consequently eroding it
deeper than the other portions about it, and producing the lake-bowl as
the necessary result.
With these magnificent ice-characters so vividly before us it is not
easy to realize that the old glacier that made them vanished tens of
centuries ago; for, excepting the vegetation that has sprung up, and the
changes effected by an earthquake that hurled rock-avalanches from the
weaker headlands, the basin as a whole presents the same appearance that
it did when first brought to light. The lake itself, however, has
undergone marked changes; one sees at a glance that it is growing old.
More than two thirds of its original area is now dry land, covered with
meadow-grasses and groves of pine and fir, and the level bed of alluvium
stretching across from wall to wall at the head is evidently growing out
all along its lakeward margin, and will at length close the lake
Every lover of fine wildness would delight to saunter on a summer day
through the flowery groves now occupying the filled-up portion of the
basin. The curving shore is clearly traced by a ribbon of white sand
upon which the ripples play; then comes a belt of broad-leafed sedges,
interrupted here and there by impenetrable tangles of willows; beyond
this there are groves of trembling aspen; then a dark, shadowy belt of
Two-leaved Pine, with here and there a round carex meadow ensconced
nest-like in its midst; and lastly, a narrow outer margin of majestic
Silver Fir 200 feet high. The ground beneath the trees is covered with a
luxuriant crop of grasses, chiefly triticum, bromus, and calamagrostis,
with purple spikes and panicles arching to one's shoulders; while the
open meadow patches glow throughout the summer with showy
flowers,--heleniums, goldenrods, erigerons, lupines, castilleias, and
lilies, and form favorite hiding and feeding-grounds for bears and deer.
The rugged south wall is feathered darkly along the top with an imposing
array of spirey Silver Firs, while the rifted precipices all the way
down to the water's edge are adorned with picturesque old junipers,
their cinnamon-colored bark showing finely upon the neutral gray of the
granite. These, with a few venturesome Dwarf Pines and Spruces, lean out
over fissured ribs and tablets, or stand erect back in shadowy niches,
in an indescribably wild and fearless manner. Moreover, the
white-flowered Douglas spiraea and dwarf evergreen oak form graceful
fringes along the narrower seams, wherever the slightest hold can be
effected. Rock-ferns, too, are here, such as allosorus, pellaea, and
cheilanthes, making handsome rosettes on the drier fissures; and the
delicate maidenhair, cistoperis, and woodsia hide back in mossy
grottoes, moistened by some trickling rill; and then the orange
wall-flower holds up its showy panicles here and there in the sunshine,
and bahia makes bosses of gold. But, notwithstanding all this plant
beauty, the general impression in looking across the lake is of stern,
unflinching rockiness; the ferns and flowers are scarcely seen, and not
one fiftieth of the whole surface is screened with plant life.
The sunnier north wall is more varied in sculpture, but the general tone
is the same. A few headlands, flat-topped and soil-covered, support
clumps of cedar and pine; and up-curving tangles of chinquapin and
live-oak, growing on rough earthquake taluses, girdle their bases. Small
streams come cascading down between them, their foaming margins
brightened with gay primulas, gilias, and mimuluses. And close along the
shore on this side there is a strip of rocky meadow enameled with
buttercups, daisies, and white violets, and the purple-topped grasses
out on its beveled border dip their leaves into the water.
The lower edge of the basin is a dam-like swell of solid granite,
heavily abraded by the old glacier, but scarce at all cut into as yet by
the outflowing stream, though it has flowed on unceasingly since the
lake came into existence.
As soon as the stream is fairly over the lake-lip it breaks into
cascades, never for a moment halting, and scarce abating one jot of its
glad energy, until it reaches the next filled-up basin, a mile below.
Then swirling and curving drowsily through meadow and grove, it breaks
forth anew into gray rapids and falls, leaping and gliding in glorious
exuberance of wild bound and dance down into another and yet another
filled-up lake basin. Then, after a long rest in the levels of Little
Yosemite, it makes its grandest display in the famous Nevada Fall. Out
of the clouds of spray at the foot of the fall the battered, roaring
river gropes its way, makes another mile of cascades and rapids, rests a
moment in Emerald Pool, then plunges over the grand cliff of the Vernal
Fall, and goes thundering and chafing down a boulder-choked gorge of
tremendous depth and wildness into the tranquil reaches of the old
Yosemite lake basin.
The color-beauty about Shadow Lake during the Indian summer is much
richer than one could hope to find in so young and so glacial a
wilderness. Almost every leaf is tinted then, and the golden-rods are in
bloom; but most of the color is given by the ripe grasses, willows, and
aspens. At the foot of the lake you stand in a trembling aspen grove,
every leaf painted like a butterfly, and away to right and left round
the shores sweeps a curving ribbon of meadow, red and brown dotted with
pale yellow, shading off here and there into hazy purple. The walls,
too, are dashed with bits of bright color that gleam out on the neutral
granite gray. But neither the walls, nor the margin meadow, nor yet the
gay, fluttering grove in which you stand, nor the lake itself, flashing
with spangles, can long hold your attention; for at the head of the lake
there is a gorgeous mass of orange-yellow, belonging to the main aspen
belt of the basin, which seems the very fountain whence all the color
below it had flowed, and here your eye is filled and fixed. This
glorious mass is about thirty feet high, and extends across the basin
nearly from wall to wall. Rich bosses of willow flame in front of it,
and from the base of these the brown meadow comes forward to the water's
edge, the whole being relieved against the unyielding green of the
coniferae, while thick sun-gold is poured over all.
During these blessed color-days no cloud darkens the sky, the winds are
gentle, and the landscape rests, hushed everywhere, and indescribably
impressive. A few ducks are usually seen sailing on the lake, apparently
more for pleasure than anything else, and the ouzels at the head of the
rapids sing always; while robins, grosbeaks, and the Douglas squirrels
are busy in the groves, making delightful company, and intensifying the
feeling of grateful sequestration without ruffling the deep, hushed calm
This autumnal mellowness usually lasts until the end of November. Then
come days of quite another kind. The winter clouds grow, and bloom, and
shed their starry crystals on every leaf and rock, and all the colors
vanish like a sunset. The deer gather and hasten down their well-known
trails, fearful of being snow-bound. Storm succeeds storm, heaping snow
on the cliffs and meadows, and bending the slender pines to the ground
in wide arches, one over the other, clustering and interlacing like
lodged wheat. Avalanches rush and boom from the shelving heights, piling
immense heaps upon the frozen lake, and all the summer glory is buried
and lost. Yet in the midst of this hearty winter the sun shines warm at
times, calling the Douglas squirrel to frisk in the snowy pines and seek
out his hidden stores; and the weather is never so severe as to drive
away the grouse and little nut-hatches and chickadees.
Toward May, the lake begins to open. The hot sun sends down innumerable
streams over the cliffs, streaking them round and round with foam. The
snow slowly vanishes, and the meadows show tintings of green. Then
spring comes on apace; flowers and flies enrich the air and the sod, and
the deer come back to the upper groves like birds to an old nest.
I first discovered this charming lake in the autumn of 1872, while on my
way to the glaciers at the head of the river. It was rejoicing then in
its gayest colors, untrodden, hidden in the glorious wildness like
unmined gold. Year after year I walked its shores without discovering
any other trace of humanity than the remains of an Indian camp-fire, and
the thigh-bones of a deer that had been broken to get at the marrow. It
lies out of the regular ways of Indians, who love to hunt in more
accessible fields adjacent to trails. Their knowledge of deer-haunts had
probably enticed them here some hunger-time when they wished to make
sure of a feast; for hunting in this lake-hollow is like hunting in a
fenced park. I had told the beauty of Shadow Lake only to a few friends,
fearing it might come to be trampled and "improved" like Yosemite. On my
last visit, as I was sauntering along the shore on the strip of sand
between the water and sod, reading the tracks of the wild animals that
live here, I was startled by a human track, which I at once saw belonged
to some shepherd; for each step was turned out 35 deg. or 40 deg. from the
general course pursued, and was also run over in an uncertain sprawling
fashion at the heel, while a row of round dots on the right indicated
the staff that shepherds carry. None but a shepherd could make such a
track, and after tracing it a few minutes I began to fear that he might
be seeking pasturage; for what else could he be seeking? Returning from
the glaciers shortly afterward, nay worst fears were realized. A trail
had been made down the mountain-side from the north, and all the gardens
and meadows were destroyed by a horde of hoofed locusts, as if swept by
a fire. The money-changers were in the temple.
Besides these larger canon lakes, fed by the main canon streams, there
are many smaller ones lying aloft on the top of rock benches, entirely
independent of the general drainage channels, and of course drawing
their supplies from a very limited area. Notwithstanding they are mostly
small and shallow, owing to their immunity from avalanche detritus and
the inwashings of powerful streams, they often endure longer than others
many times larger but less favorably situated. When very shallow they
become dry toward the end of summer; but because their basins are ground
out of seamless stone they suffer no loss save from evaporation alone;
and the great depth of snow that falls, lasting into June, makes their
dry season short in any case.
Orange Lake is a fair illustration of this bench form. It lies in the
middle of a beautiful glacial pavement near the lower margin of the
lake-line, about a mile and a half to the northwest of Shadow Lake. It
is only about 100 yards in circumference. Next the water there is a
girdle of carices with wide overarching leaves, then in regular order a
shaggy ruff of huckleberry bushes, a zone of willows with here and there
a bush of the Mountain Ash, then a zone of aspens with a few pines
around the outside. These zones are of course concentric, and together
form a wall beyond which the naked ice-burnished granite stretches away
in every direction, leaving it conspicuously relieved, like a bunch of
palms in a desert.
In autumn, when the colors are ripe, the whole circular grove, at a
little distance, looks like a big handful of flowers set in a cup to be
kept fresh--a tuft of goldenrods. Its feeding-streams are exceedingly
beautiful, notwithstanding their inconstancy and extreme shallowness.
They have no channel whatever, and consequently are left free to spread
in thin sheets upon the shining granite and wander at will. In many
places the current is less than a fourth of an inch deep, and flows with
so little friction it is scarcely visible. Sometimes there is not a
single foam-bell, or drifting pine-needle, or irregularity of any sort
to manifest its motion. Yet when observed narrowly it is seen to form a
web of gliding lacework exquisitely woven, giving beautiful reflections
from its minute curving ripples and eddies, and differing from the
water-laces of large cascades in being everywhere transparent. In
spring, when the snow is melting, the lake-bowl is brimming full, and
sends forth quite a large stream that slips glassily for 200 yards or
so, until it comes to an almost vertical precipice 800 feet high, down
which it plunges in a fine cataract; then it gathers its scattered
waters and goes smoothly over folds of gently dipping granite to its
confluence with the main canon stream. During the greater portion of the
year, however, not a single water sound will you hear either at head or
foot of the lake, not oven the whispered lappings of ripple-waves along
the shore; for the winds are fenced out. But the deep mountain silence
is sweetened now and then by birds that stop here to rest and drink on
their way across the canon.
LAKE STAKE KING
A beautiful variety of the bench-top lakes occurs just where the great
lateral moraines of the main glaciers have been shoved forward in
outswelling concentric rings by small residual tributary glaciers.
Instead of being encompassed by a narrow ring of trees like Orange Lake,
these lie embosomed in dense moraine woods, so dense that in seeking
them you may pass them by again and again, although you may know nearly
where they lie concealed.
[Illustration: LAKE STARR KING.]
Lake Starr King, lying to the north of the cone of that name, above the
Little Yosemite Valley, is a fine specimen of this variety. The ouzels
pass it by, and so do the ducks; they could hardly get into it if they
would, without plumping straight down inside the circling trees.
Yet these isolated gems, lying like fallen fruit detached from the
branches, are not altogether without inhabitants and joyous, animating
visitors. Of course fishes cannot get into them, and this is generally
true of nearly every glacier lake in the range, but they are all well
stocked with happy frogs. How did the frogs get into them in the first
place? Perhaps their sticky spawn was carried in on the feet of ducks or
other birds, else their progenitors must have made some exciting
excursions through the woods and up the sides of the canons. Down in the
still, pure depths of these hidden lakelets you may also find the larvae
of innumerable insects and a great variety of beetles, while the air
above them is thick with humming wings, through the midst of which
fly-catchers are constantly darting. And in autumn, when the
huckleberries are ripe, bands of robins and grosbeaks come to feast,
forming altogether delightful little byworlds for the naturalist.
Pushing our way upward toward the axis of the range, we find lakes in
greater and greater abundance, and more youthful in aspect. At an
elevation of about 9000 feet above sea-level they seem to have arrived
at middle age,--that is, their basins seem to be about half filled with
alluvium. Broad sheets of meadow-land are seen extending into them,
imperfect and boggy in many places and more nearly level than those of
the older lakes below them, and the vegetation of their shores is of
course more alpine. Kalmia, lodum, and cassiope fringe the meadow rocks,
while the luxuriant, waving groves, so characteristic of the lower
lakes, are represented only by clumps of the Dwarf Pine and Hemlock
Spruce. These, however, are oftentimes very picturesquely grouped on
rocky headlands around the outer rim of the meadows, or with still more
striking effect crown some rocky islet.
Moreover, from causes that we cannot stop here to explain, the cliffs
about these middle-aged lakes are seldom of the massive Yosemite type,
but are more broken, and less sheer, and they usually stand back,
leaving the shores comparatively free; while the few precipitous rocks
that do come forward and plunge directly into deep water are seldom more
than three or four hundred feet high.
I have never yet met ducks in any of the lakes of this kind, but the
ouzel is never wanting where the feeding-streams are perennial. Wild
sheep and deer may occasionally be seen on the meadows, and very rarely
a bear. One might camp on the rugged shores of these bright fountains
for weeks, without meeting any animal larger than the marmots that
burrow beneath glacier boulders along the edges of the meadows.
The highest and youngest of all the lakes lie nestled in glacier wombs.
At first sight, they seem pictures of pure bloodless desolation,
miniature arctic seas, bound in perpetual ice and snow, and overshadowed
by harsh, gloomy, crumbling precipices. Their waters are keen
ultramarine blue in the deepest parts, lively grass-green toward the
shore shallows and around the edges of the small bergs usually floating
about in them. A few hardy sedges, frost-pinched every night, are
occasionally found making soft sods along the sun-touched portions of
their shores, and when their northern banks slope openly to the south,
and are soil-covered, no matter how coarsely, they are sure to be
brightened with flowers. One lake in particular now comes to mind which
illustrates the floweriness of the sun-touched banks of these icy gems.
Close up under the shadow of the Sierra Matterhorn, on the eastern slope
of the range, lies one of the iciest of these glacier lakes at an
elevation of about 12,000 feet. A short, ragged-edged glacier crawls
into it from the south, and on the opposite side it is embanked and
dammed by a series of concentric terminal moraines, made by the glacier
when it entirely filled the basin. Half a mile below lies a second lake,
at a height of 11,500 feet, about as cold and as pure as a snow-crystal.
The waters of the first come gurgling down into it over and through the
moraine dam, while a second stream pours into it direct from a glacier
that lies to the southeast. Sheer precipices of crystalline snow rise
out of deep water on the south, keeping perpetual winter on that side,
but there is a fine summery spot on the other, notwithstanding the lake
is only about 300 yards wide. Here, on August 25, 1873, I found a
charming company of flowers, not pinched, crouching dwarfs, scarce able
to look up, but warm and juicy, standing erect in rich cheery color and
bloom. On a narrow strip of shingle, close to the water's edge, there
were a few tufts of carex gone to seed; and a little way back up the
rocky bank at the foot of a crumbling wall so inclined as to absorb and
radiate as well as reflect a considerable quantity of sun-heat, was the
garden, containing a thrifty thicket of Cowania covered with large
yellow flowers; several bushes of the alpine ribes with berries nearly
ripe and wildly acid; a few handsome grasses belonging to two distinct
species, and one goldenrod; a few hairy lupines and radiant spragueas,
whose blue and rose-colored flowers were set off to fine advantage amid
green carices; and along a narrow seam in the very warmest angle of the
wall a perfectly gorgeous fringe of _Epilobium obcordatum_ with
flowers an inch wide, crowded together in lavish profusion, and colored
as royal a purple as ever was worn by any high-bred plant of the
tropics; and best of all, and greatest of all, a noble thistle in full
bloom, standing erect, head and shoulders above his companions, and
thrusting out his lances in sturdy vigor as if growing on a Scottish
brae. All this brave warm bloom among the raw stones, right in the face
of the onlooking glaciers.
As far as I have been able to find out, these upper lakes are
snow-buried in winter to a depth of about thirty-five or forty feet, and
those most exposed to avalanches, to a depth of even a hundred feet or
more. These last are, of course, nearly lost to the landscape. Some
remain buried for years, when the snowfall is exceptionally great, and
many open only on one side late in the season. The snow of the closed
side is composed of coarse granules compacted and frozen into a firm,
faintly stratified mass, like the _neve_ of a glacier. The lapping
waves of the open portion gradually undermine and cause it to break off
in large masses like icebergs, which gives rise to a precipitous front
like the discharging wall of a glacier entering the sea. The play of the
lights among the crystal angles of these snow-cliffs, the pearly white
of the outswelling bosses, the bergs drifting in front, aglow in the sun
and edged with green water, and the deep blue disk of the lake itself
extending to your feet,--this forms a picture that enriches all your
afterlife, and is never forgotten. But however perfect the season and
the day, the cold incompleteness of these young lakes is always keenly
felt. We approach them with a kind of mean caution, and steal
unconfidingly around their crystal shores, dashed and ill at ease, as if
expecting to hear some forbidding voice. But the love-songs of the
ouzels and the love-looks of the daisies gradually reassure us, and
manifest the warm fountain humanity that pervades the coldest and most
solitary of them all.
THE GLACIER MEADOWS
After the lakes on the High Sierra come the glacier meadows. They are
smooth, level, silky lawns, lying embedded in the upper forests, on the
floors of the valleys, and along the broad backs of the main dividing
ridges, at a height of about 8000 to 9500 feet above the sea.
They are nearly as level as the lakes whose places they have taken, and
present a dry, even surface free from rock-heaps, mossy bogginess, and
the frowsy roughness of rank, coarse-leaved, weedy, and shrubby
vegetation. The sod is close and fine, and so complete that you cannot
see the ground; and at the same time so brightly enameled with flowers
and butterflies that it may well be called a garden-meadow, or
meadow-garden; for the plushy sod is in many places so crowded with
gentians, daisies, ivesias, and various species of orthocarpus that the
grass is scarcely noticeable, while in others the flowers are only
pricked in here and there singly, or in small ornamental rosettes.
The most influential of the grasses composing the sod is a delicate
calamagrostis with fine filiform leaves, and loose, airy panicles that
seem to float above the flowery lawn like a purple mist. But, write as I
may, I cannot give anything like an adequate idea of the exquisite
beauty of these mountain carpets as they lie smoothly outspread in the
savage wilderness. What words are fine enough to picture them I to what
shall we liken them? The flowery levels of the prairies of the old West,
the luxuriant savannahs of the South, and the finest of cultivated
meadows are coarse in comparison. One may at first sight compare them
with the carefully tended lawns of pleasure-grounds; for they are as
free from weeds as they, and as smooth, but here the likeness ends; for
these wild lawns, with all their exquisite fineness, have no trace of
that painful, licked, snipped, repressed appearance that pleasure-ground
lawns are apt to have even when viewed at a distance. And, not to
mention the flowers with which they are brightened, their grasses are
very much finer both in color and texture, and instead of lying flat and
motionless, matted together like a dead green cloth, they respond to the
touches of every breeze, rejoicing in pure wildness, blooming and
fruiting in the vital light.
Glacier meadows abound throughout all the alpine and subalpine regions
of the Sierra in still greater numbers than the lakes. Probably from
2500 to 3000 exist between latitude 36 deg. 30' and 39 deg., distributed, of
course, like the lakes, in concordance with all the other glacial
features of the landscape.
On the head waters of the rivers there are what are called "Big
Meadows," usually about from five to ten miles long. These occupy the
basins of the ancient ice-seas, where many tributary glaciers came
together to form the grand trunks. Most, however, are quite small,
averaging perhaps but little more than three fourths of a mile in
One of the very finest of the thousands I have enjoyed lies hidden in an
extensive forest of the Two-leaved Pine, on the edge of the basin of the
ancient Tuolumne Mer de Glace, about eight miles to the west of Mount
Imagine yourself at the Tuolumne Soda Springs on the bank of the river,
a day's journey above Yosemite Valley. You set off northward through a
forest that stretches away indefinitely before you, seemingly unbroken
by openings of any kind. As soon as you are fairly into the woods, the
gray mountain-peaks, with their snowy gorges and hollows, are lost to
view. The ground is littered with fallen trunks that lie crossed and
recrossed like storm-lodged wheat; and besides this close forest of
pines, the rich moraine soil supports a luxuriant growth of
ribbon-leaved grasses--bromus, triticum, calamagrostis, agrostis, etc.,
which rear their handsome spikes and panicles above your waist. Making
your way through the fertile wilderness,--finding lively bits of
interest now and then in the squirrels and Clark crows, and perchance in
a deer or bear,--after the lapse of an hour or two vertical bars of
sunshine are seen ahead between the brown shafts of the pines, showing
that you are approaching an open space, and then you suddenly emerge
from the forest shadows upon a delightful purple lawn lying smooth and
free in the light like a lake. This is a glacier meadow. It is about a
mile and a half long by a quarter of a mile wide. The trees come
pressing forward all around in close serried ranks, planting their feet
exactly on its margin, and holding themselves erect, strict and orderly
like soldiers on parade; thus bounding the meadow with exquisite
precision, yet with free curving lines such as Nature alone can draw.
With inexpressible delight you wade out into the grassy sun-lake,
feeling yourself contained in one of Nature's most sacred chambers,
withdrawn from the sterner influences of the mountains, secure from all
intrusion, secure from yourself, free in the universal beauty. And
notwithstanding the scene is so impressively spiritual, and you seem
dissolved in it, yet everything about you is beating with warm,
terrestrial, human love and life delightfully substantial and familiar.
The resiny pines are types of health and steadfastness; the robins
feeding on the sod belong to the same species you have known since
childhood; and surely these daisies, larkspurs, and goldenrods are the
very friend-flowers of the old home garden. Bees hum as in a harvest
noon, butterflies waver above the flowers, and like them you lave in the
vital sunshine, too richly and homogeneously joy-filled to be capable of
partial thought. You are all eye, sifted through and through with light
and beauty. Sauntering along the brook that meanders silently through
the meadow from the east, special flowers call you back to
discriminating consciousness. The sod comes curving down to the water's
edge, forming bossy outswelling banks, and in some places overlapping
countersunk boulders and forming bridges. Here you find mats of the
curious dwarf willow scarce an inch high, yet sending up a multitude of
gray silky catkins, illumined here and there with, the purple cups and
bells of bryanthus and vaccinium.
Go where you may, you everywhere find the lawn divinely beautiful, as if
Nature had fingered and adjusted every plant this very day. The floating
grass panicles are scarcely felt in brushing through their midst, so
flue are they, and none of the flowers have tall or rigid stalks. In the
brightest places you find three species of gentians with different
shades of blue, daisies pure as the sky, silky leaved ivesias with warm
yellow flowers, several species of orthocarpus with blunt, bossy spikes,
red and purple and yellow; the alpine goldenrod, pentstemon, and clover,
fragrant and honeyful, with their colors massed and blended. Parting the
grasses and looking more closely you may trace the branching of their
shining stems, and note the marvelous beauty of their mist of flowers,
the glumes and pales exquisitely penciled, the yellow dangling stamens,
and feathery pistils. Beneath the lowest leaves you discover a fairy
realm of mosses,--hypnum, dicranum, polytriclium, and many
others,--their precious spore-cups poised daintily on polished shafts,
curiously hooded, or open, showing the richly ornate peristomas worn
like royal crowns. Creeping liverworts are here also in abundance, and
several rare species of fungi, exceedingly small, and frail, and
delicate, as if made only for beauty. Caterpillars, black beetles, and
ants roam the wilds of this lower world, making their way through
miniature groves and thickets like bears in a thick wood.
And how rich, too, is the life of the sunny air! Every leaf and flower
seems to have its winged representative overhead. Dragon-flies shoot in
vigorous zigzags through the dancing swarms, and a rich profusion of
butterflies--the leguminosae of insects--make a fine addition to the
general show. Many of these last are comparatively small at this
elevation, and as yet almost unknown to science; but every now and then
a familiar vanessa or papilio comes sailing past. Humming-birds, too,
are quite common here, and the robin is always found along the margin of
the stream, or out in the shallowest portions of the sod, and sometimes
the grouse and mountain quail, with their broods of precious fluffy
chickens. Swallows skim the grassy lake from end to end, fly-catchers
come and go in fitful flights from the tops of dead spars, while
woodpeckers swing across from side to side in graceful festoon
curves,--birds, insects, and flowers all in their own way telling a deep
The influences of pure nature seem to be so little known as yet, that it
is generally supposed that complete pleasure of this kind, permeating
one's very flesh and bones, unfits the student for scientific pursuits
in which cool judgment and observation are required. But the effect is
just the opposite. Instead of producing a dissipated condition, the mind
is fertilized and stimulated and developed like sun-fed plants. All that
we have seen here enables us to see with surer vision the fountains
among the summit-peaks to the east whence flowed the glaciers that
ground soil for the surrounding forest; and down at the foot of the
meadow the moraine which formed the dam which gave rise to the lake that
occupied this basin before the meadow was made; and around the margin
the stones that were shoved back and piled up into a rude wall by the
expansion of the lake ice during long bygone winters; and along the
sides of the streams the slight hollows of the meadow which mark those
portions of the old lake that were the last to vanish.
I would fain ask my readers to linger awhile in this fertile wilderness,
to trace its history from its earliest glacial beginnings, and learn
what we may of its wild inhabitants and visitors. How happy the birds
are all summer and some of them all winter; how the pouched marmots
drive tunnels under the snow, and how fine and brave a life the
slandered coyote lives here, and the deer and bears! But, knowing well
the difference between reading and seeing, I will only ask attention to
some brief sketches of its varying aspects as they are presented
throughout the more marked seasons of the year.
The summer life we have been depicting lasts with but little abatement
until October, when the night frosts begin to sting, bronzing the
grasses, and ripening the leaves of the creeping heathworts along the
banks of the stream to reddish purple and crimson; while the flowers
disappear, all save the goldenrods and a few daisies, that continue to
bloom on unscathed until the beginning of snowy winter. In still nights
the grass panicles and every leaf and stalk are laden with frost
crystals, through which the morning sunbeams sift in ravishing splendor,
transforming each to a precious diamond radiating the colors of the
rainbow. The brook shallows are plaited across and across with slender
lances of ice, but both these and the grass crystals are melted before
midday, and, notwithstanding the great elevation of the meadow, the
afternoons are still warm enough to revive the chilled butterflies and
call them out to enjoy the late-flowering goldenrods. The divine
alpenglow flushes the surrounding forest every evening, followed by a
crystal night with hosts of lily stars, whose size and brilliancy cannot
be conceived by those who have never risen above the lowlands.
Thus come and go the bright sun-days of autumn, not a cloud in the sky,
week after week until near December. Then comes a sudden change. Clouds
of a peculiar aspect with a slow, crawling gait gather and grow in the
azure, throwing out satiny fringes, and becoming gradually darker until
every lake-like rift and opening is closed and the whole bent firmament
is obscured in equal structureless gloom. Then comes the snow, for the
clouds are ripe, the meadows of the sky are in bloom, and shed their
radiant blossoms like an orchard in the spring. Lightly, lightly they
lodge in the brown grasses and in the tasseled needles of the pines,
falling hour after hour, day after day, silently, lovingly,--all the
winds hushed,--glancing and circling hither, thither, glinting against
one another, rays interlocking in flakes as large as daisies; and then
the dry grasses, and the trees, and the stones are all equally abloom
again. Thunder-showers occur here during the summer months, and
impressive it is to watch the coming of the big transparent drops, each
a small world in itself,--one unbroken ocean without islands hurling
free through the air like planets through space. But still more
impressive to me is the coming of the snow-flowers,--falling stars,
winter daisies,--giving bloom to all the ground alike. Raindrops blossom
brilliantly in the rainbow, and change to flowers in the sod, but snow
comes in full flower direct from the dark, frozen sky.
The later snow-storms are oftentimes accompanied by winds that break up
the crystals, when the temperature is low, into single petals and
irregular dusty fragments; but there is comparatively little drifting on
the meadow, so securely is it embosomed in the woods. From December to
May, storm succeeds storm, until the snow is about fifteen or twenty
feet deep, but the surface is always as smooth as the breast of a bird.
Hushed now is the life that so late was beating warmly. Most of the
birds have gone down below the snow-line, the plants sleep, and all the
fly-wings are folded. Yet the sun beams gloriously many a cloudless day
in midwinter, casting long lance shadows athwart the dazzling expanse.
In June small flecks of the dead, decaying sod begin to appear,
gradually widening and uniting with one another, covered with creeping
rags of water during the day, and ice by night, looking as hopeless and
unvital as crushed rocks just emerging from the darkness of the glacial
period. Walk the meadow now! Scarce the memory of a flower will you
find. The ground seems twice dead. Nevertheless, the annual resurrection
is drawing near. The life-giving sun pours his floods, the last
snow-wreath melts, myriads of growing points push eagerly through the
steaming mold, the birds come back, new wings fill the air, and fervid
summer life comes surging on, seemingly yet more glorious than before.
This is a perfect meadow, and under favorable circumstances exists
without manifesting any marked changes for centuries. Nevertheless, soon
or late it must inevitably grow old and vanish. During the calm Indian
summer, scarce a sand-grain moves around its banks, but in flood-times
and storm-times, soil is washed forward upon it and laid in successive
sheets around its gently sloping rim, and is gradually extended to the
center, making it dryer. Through a considerable period the meadow
vegetation is not greatly affected thereby, for it gradually rises with
the rising ground, keeping on the surface like water-plants rising on
the swell of waves. But at length the elevation of the meadow-land goes
on so far as to produce too dry a soil for the specific meadow-plants,
when, of course, they have to give up their places to others fitted for
the new conditions. The most characteristic of the newcomers at this
elevation above the sea are principally sun-loving gilias, eriogonae,
and compositae, and finally forest-trees. Henceforward the obscuring
changes are so manifold that the original lake-meadow can be unveiled
and seen only by the geologist.
Generally speaking, glacier lakes vanish more slowly than the meadows
that succeed them, because, unless very shallow, a greater quantity of
material is required to fill up their basins and obliterate them than is
required to render the surface of the meadow too high and dry for meadow
vegetation. Furthermore, owing to the weathering to which the adjacent
rocks are subjected, material of the finer sort, susceptible of
transportation by rains and ordinary floods, is more abundant during the
meadow period than during the lake period. Yet doubtless many a fine
meadow favorably situated exists in almost prime beauty for thousands of
years, the process of extinction being exceedingly slow, as we reckon
time. This is especially the case with meadows circumstanced like the
one we have described--embosomed in deep woods, with the ground rising
gently away from it all around, the network of tree-roots in which all
the ground is clasped preventing any rapid torrential washing. But, in
exceptional cases, beautiful lawns formed with great deliberation are
overwhelmed and obliterated at once by the action of land-slips,
earthquake avalanches, or extraordinary floods, just as lakes are.
In those glacier meadows that take the places of shallow lakes which
have been fed by feeble streams, glacier mud and fine vegetable humus
enter largely into the composition of the soil; and on account of the
shallowness of this soil, and the seamless, water-tight, undrained
condition of the rock-basins, they are usually wet, and therefore
occupied by tall grasses and sedges, whose coarse appearance offers a
striking contrast to that of the delicate lawn-making kind described
above. These shallow-soiled meadows are oftentimes still further
roughened and diversified by partially buried moraines and swelling
bosses of the bed-rock, which, with the trees and shrubs growing upon
them, produce a striking effect as they stand in relief like islands in
the grassy level, or sweep across in rugged curves from one forest wall
to the other.
Throughout the upper meadow region, wherever water is sufficiently
abundant and low in temperature, in basins secure from flood-washing,
handsome bogs are formed with a deep growth of brown and yellow sphagnum
picturesquely ruined with patches of kalmia and ledum which ripen masses
of beautiful color in the autumn. Between these cool, spongy bogs and
the dry, flowery meadows there are many interesting varieties which are
graduated into one another by the varied conditions already alluded to,
forming a series of delightful studies.
HANGING MEADOWS
Another, very well-marked and interesting kind of meadow, differing
greatly both in origin and appearance from the lake-meadows, is found
lying aslant upon moraine-covered hillsides trending in the direction of
greatest declivity, waving up and down over rock heaps and ledges, like
rich green ribbons brilliantly illumined with tall flowers. They occur
both in the alpine and subalpine regions in considerable numbers, and
never fail to make telling features in the landscape. They are often a
mile or more in length, but never very wide--usually from thirty to
fifty yards. When the mountain or canon side on which, they lie dips at
the required angle, and other conditions are at the same time favorable,
they extend from above the timber line to the bottom of a canon or lake
basin, descending in fine, fluent lines like cascades, breaking here and
there into a kind of spray on large boulders, or dividing and flowing
around on either side of some projecting islet. Sometimes a noisy stream
goes brawling down through them, and again, scarcely a drop of water is
in sight. They owe their existence, however, to streams, whether visible
or invisible, the wildest specimens being found where some perennial
fountain, as a glacier or snowbank or moraine spring sends down its
waters across a rough sheet of soil in a dissipated web of feeble,
oozing rivulets. These conditions give rise to a meadowy vegetation,
whose extending roots still more obstruct the free flow of the waters,
and tend to dissipate them out over a yet wider area. Thus the moraine
soil and the necessary moisture requisite for the better class of meadow
plants are at times combined about as perfectly as if smoothly outspread
on a level surface. Where the soil happens to be composed of the finer
qualities of glacial detritus and the water is not in excess, the
nearest approach is made by the vegetation to that of the lake-meadow.
But where, as is more commonly the case, the soil is coarse and
bouldery, the vegetation is correspondingly rank. Tall, wide-leaved
grasses take their places along the sides, and rushes and nodding
carices in the wetter portions, mingled with the most beautiful and
imposing flowers,--orange lilies and larkspurs seven or eight feet high,
lupines, senecios, aliums, painted-cups, many species of mimulus and
pentstemon, the ample boat-leaved _veratrum alba_, and the
magnificent alpine columbine, with spurs an inch and a half long. At an
elevation of from seven to nine thousand feet showy flowers frequently
form the bulk of the vegetation; then the hanging meadows become hanging
In rare instances we find an alpine basin the bottom of which is a
perfect meadow, and the sides nearly all the way round, rising in gentle
curves, are covered with moraine soil, which, being saturated with
melting snow from encircling fountains, gives rise to an almost
continuous girdle of down-curving meadow vegetation that blends
gracefully into the level meadow at the bottom, thus forming a grand,
smooth, soft, meadow-lined mountain nest. It is in meadows of this sort
that the mountain beaver (_Haplodon_) loves to make his home,
excavating snug chambers beneath the sod, digging canals, turning the
underground waters from channel to channel to suit his convenience, and
feeding the vegetation.
Another kind of meadow or bog occurs on densely timbered hillsides where
small perennial streams have been dammed at short intervals by fallen
trees. Still another kind is found hanging down smooth, flat precipices,
while corresponding leaning meadows rise to meet them.
There are also three kinds of small pot-hole meadows one of which is
found along the banks of the main streams, another on the summits of
rocky ridges, and the third on glacier pavements, all of them
interesting in origin and brimful of plant beauty.
CHAPTER VIII
The coniferous forests of the Sierra are the grandest and most beautiful
in the world, and grow in a delightful climate on the most interesting
and accessible of mountain-ranges, yet strange to say they are not well
known. More than sixty years ago David Douglas, an enthusiastic botanist
and tree lover, wandered alone through fine sections of the Sugar Pine
and Silver Fir woods wild with delight. A few years later, other
botanists made short journeys from the coast into the lower woods. Then
came the wonderful multitude of miners into the foot-hill zone, mostly
blind with gold-dust, soon followed by "sheepmen," who, with wool over
their eyes, chased their flocks through all the forest belts from one
end of the range to the other. Then the Yosemite Valley was discovered,
and thousands of admiring tourists passed through sections of the lower
and middle zones on their way to that wonderful park, and gained fine
glimpses of the Sugar Pines and Silver Firs along the edges of dusty
trails and roads. But few indeed, strong and free with eyes undimmed
with care, have gone far enough and lived long enough with the trees to
gain anything like a loving conception of their grandeur and
significance as manifested in the harmonies of their distribution and
varying aspects throughout the seasons, as they stand arrayed in their
winter garb rejoicing in storms, putting forth their fresh leaves in the
spring while steaming with resiny fragrance, receiving the
thunder-showers of summer, or reposing heavy-laden with ripe cones in
the rich sungold of autumn. For knowledge of this kind one must dwell
with the trees and grow with them, without any reference to time in the
almanac sense.
The distribution of the general forest in belts is readily perceived.
These, as we have seen, extend in regular order from one extremity of
the range to the other; and however dense and somber they may appear in
general views, neither on the rocky heights nor down in the leafiest
hollows will you find anything to remind you of the dank, malarial
selvas of the Amazon and Orinoco, with, their "boundless contiguity of
shade," the monotonous uniformity of the Deodar forests of the Himalaya,
the Black Forest of Europe, or the dense dark woods of Douglas Spruce
where rolls the Oregon. The giant pines, and firs, and Sequoias hold
their arms open to the sunlight, rising above one another on the
mountain benches, marshaled in glorious array, giving forth the utmost
expression of grandeur and beauty with inexhaustible variety and
[Illustration: VIEW IN THE SIERRA FOREST.]
The inviting openness of the Sierra woods is one of their most
distinguishing characteristics. The trees of all the species stand more
or less apart in groves, or in small, irregular groups, enabling one to
find a way nearly everywhere, along sunny colonnades and through
openings that have a smooth, park-like surface, strewn with brown
needles and burs. Now you cross a wild garden, now a meadow, now a
ferny, willowy stream; and ever and anon you emerge from all the groves
and flowers upon some granite pavement or high, bare ridge commanding
superb views above the waving sea of evergreens far and near.
One would experience but little difficulty in riding on horseback
through the successive belts all the way up to the storm-beaten fringes
of the icy peaks. The deep canons, however, that extend from the axis of
the range, cut the belts more or less completely into sections, and
prevent the mounted traveler from tracing them lengthwise.
This simple arrangement in zones and sections brings the forest, as a
whole, within the comprehension of every observer. The different species
are ever found occupying the same relative positions to one another, as
controlled by soil, climate, and the comparative vigor of each species
in taking and holding the ground; and so appreciable are these
relations, one need never be at a loss in determining, within a few
hundred feet, the elevation above sea-level by the trees alone; for,
notwithstanding some of the species range upward for several thousand
feet, and all pass one another more or less, yet even those possessing
the greatest vertical range are available in this connection, in as much
as they take on new forms corresponding with the variations in altitude.
Crossing the treeless plains of the Sacramento and San Joaquin from the
west and reaching the Sierra foot-hills, you enter the lower fringe of
the forest, composed of small oaks and pines, growing so far apart that
not one twentieth of the surface of the ground is in shade at clear
noonday. After advancing fifteen or twenty miles, and making an ascent
of from two to three thousand feet, you reach the lower margin of the
main pine belt, composed of the gigantic Sugar Pine, Yellow Pine,
Incense Cedar, and Sequoia. Next you come to the magnificent Silver Fir
belt, and lastly to the upper pine belt, which sweeps up the rocky
acclivities of the summit peaks in a dwarfed, wavering fringe to a
height of from ten to twelve thousand feet.
[Illustration: EDGE OF THE TIMBER LINE ON MOUNT SHASTA.]
This general order of distribution, with reference to climate dependent
on elevation, is perceived at once, but there are other harmonies, as
far-reaching in this connection, that become manifest only after patient
observation and study. Perhaps the most interesting of these is the
arrangement of the forests in long, curving bands, braided together into
lace-like patterns, and outspread in charming variety. The key to this
beautiful harmony is the ancient glaciers; where they flowed the trees
followed, tracing their wavering courses along canons, over ridges, and
over high, rolling plateaus. The Cedars of Lebanon, says Hooker, are
growing upon one of the moraines of an ancient glacier. All the forests
of the Sierra are growing upon moraines. But moraines vanish like the
glaciers that make them. Every storm that falls upon them wastes them,
cutting gaps, disintegrating boulders, and carrying away their decaying
material into new formations, until at length they are no longer
recognizable by any save students, who trace their transitional forms
down from the fresh moraines still in process of formation, through
those that are more and more ancient, and more and more obscured by
vegetation and all kinds of post-glacial weathering.
Had the ice-sheet that once covered all the range been melted
simultaneously from the foot-hills to the summits, the flanks would, of
course, have been left almost bare of soil, and these noble forests
would be wanting. Many groves and thickets would undoubtedly have grown
up on lake and avalanche beds, and many a fair flower and shrub would
have found food and a dwelling-place in weathered nooks and crevices,
but the Sierra as a whole would have been a bare, rocky desert.
[Illustration: VIEW IN THE MAIN PINE BELT OF THE SIERRA FOREST.]
It appears, therefore, that the Sierra forests in general indicate the
extent and positions of the ancient moraines as well as they do lines of
climate. For forests, properly speaking, cannot exist without soil; and,
since the moraines have been deposited upon the solid rock, and only
upon elected places, leaving a considerable portion of the old glacial
surface bare, we find luxuriant forests of pine and fir abruptly
terminated by scored and polished pavements on which not even a moss is
growing, though soil alone is required to fit them for the growth of
trees 200 feet in height.
THE NUT PINE
(_Pinus Sabiniana_)
The Nut Pine, the first conifer met in ascending the range from the
west, grows only on the torrid foothills, seeming to delight in the most
ardent sun-heat, like a palm; springing up here and there singly, or in
scattered groups of five or six, among scrubby White Oaks and thickets
of ceanothus and manzanita; its extreme upper limit being about 4000
feet above the sea, its lower about from 500 to 800 feet.
This tree is remarkable for its airy, widespread, tropical appearance,
which suggests a region of palms, rather than cool, resiny pine woods.
No one would take it at first sight to be a conifer of any kind, it is
so loose in habit and so widely branched, and its foliage is so thin and
gray. Full-grown specimens are from forty to fifty feet in height, and
from two to three feet in diameter. The trunk usually divides into three
or four main branches, about fifteen and twenty feet from the ground,
which, after bearing away from one another, shoot straight up and form
separate summits; while the crooked subordinate branches aspire, and
radiate, and droop in ornamental sprays. The slender, grayish-green
needles are from eight to twelve inches long, loosely tasseled, and
inclined to droop in handsome curves, contrasting with the stiff,
dark-colored trunk and branches in a very striking manner. No other tree
of my acquaintance, so substantial in body, is in its foliage so thin
and so pervious to the light. The sunbeams sift through even the
leafiest trees with scarcely any interruption, and the weary, heated
traveler finds but little protection in their shade.
[Illustration: NUT PINE (PINUS SABINIANA).]
The generous crop of nutritious nuts which the Nut Pine yields makes it
a favorite with Indians, bears, and squirrels. The cones are most
beautiful, measuring from five to eight inches in length, and not much
less in thickness, rich chocolate-brown in color, and protected by
strong, down-curving hooks Which terminate the scales. Nevertheless, the
little Douglas squirrel can open them. Indians gathering the ripe nuts
make a striking picture. The men climb the trees like bears and beat off
the cones with sticks, or recklessly cut off the more fruitful branches
with hatchets, while the squaws gather the big, generous cones, and
roast them until the scales open sufficiently to allow the hard-shelled
seeds to be beaten out. Then, in the cool evenings, men, women, and
children, with their capacity for dirt greatly increased by the soft
resin with which they are all bedraggled, form circles around
camp-fires, on the bank of the nearest stream, and lie in easy
independence cracking nuts and laughing and chattering, as heedless of
the future as the squirrels.
_Pinus tuberculata_
This curious little pine is found at an elevation of from 1500 to 3000
feet, growing in close, willowy groves. It is exceedingly slender and
graceful in habit, although trees that chance to stand alone outside the
groves sweep forth long, curved branches, producing a striking contrast
to the ordinary grove form. The foliage is of the same peculiar
gray-green color as that of the Nut Pine, and is worn about as loosely,
so that the body of the tree is scarcely obscured by it.
[Illustration: THE GROVE FORM. THE ISOLATED FORM (PINUS TUBERCULATA).]
At the age of seven or eight years it begins to bear cones, not on
branches, but on the main axis, and, as they never fall off, the trunk
is soon picturesquely dotted with them. The branches also become
fruitful after they attain sufficient size. The average size of the
older trees is about thirty or forty feet in height, and twelve to
fourteen inches in diameter. The cones are about four inches long,
exceedingly hard, and covered with a sort of silicious varnish and gum,
rendering them impervious to moisture, evidently with a view to the
careful preservation of the seeds.
No other conifer in the range is so closely restricted to special
localities. It is usually found apart, standing deep in chaparral on
sunny hill-and canon-sides where there is but little depth of soil, and,
where found at all, it is quite plentiful; but the ordinary traveler,
following carriage-roads and trails, may ascend the range many times
without meeting it.
While exploring the lower portion of the Merced Canon I found a lonely
miner seeking his fortune in a quartz vein on a wild mountain-side
planted with this singular tree. He told me that he called it the
Hickory Pine, because of the whiteness and toughness of the wood. It is
so little known, however, that it can hardly be said to have a common
name. Most mountaineers refer to it as "that queer little pine-tree
covered all over with burs." In my studies of this species I found a
very interesting and significant group of facts, whose relations will be
seen almost as soon as stated:
1st. All the trees in the groves I examined, however unequal in size,
are of the same age.
2d. Those groves are all planted on dry hillsides covered with
chaparral, and therefore are liable to be swept by fire.
3d. There are no seedlings or saplings in or about the living groves,
but there is always a fine, hopeful crop springing up on the ground once
occupied by any grove that has been destroyed by the burning of the
4th. The cones never fall off and never discharge their seeds until the
tree or branch to which they belong dies.
[Illustration: LOWER MARGIN OF THE MAIN PINE BELT, SHOWING OPEN
CHARACTER OF WOODS.]
A full discussion of the bearing of these facts upon one another would
perhaps be out of place here, but I may at least call attention to the
admirable adaptation of the tree to the fire-swept regions where alone
it is found. After a grove has been destroyed, the ground is at once
sown lavishly with all the seeds ripened during its whole life, which
seem to have been carefully held in store with reference to such a
calamity. Then a young grove immediately springs up, giving beauty for
(_Pinus Lambertiana_)
This is the noblest pine yet discovered, surpassing all others not
merely in size but also in kingly beauty and majesty.
It towers sublimely from every ridge and canon of the range, at an
elevation of from three to seven thousand feet above the sea, attaining
most perfect development at a height of about 5000 feet.
Full-grown specimens are commonly about 220 feet high, and from six to
eight feet in diameter near the ground, though some grand old patriarch
is occasionally met that has enjoyed five or six centuries of storms,
and attained a thickness of ten or even twelve feet, living on
undecayed, sweet and fresh in every fiber.
In southern Oregon, where it was first discovered by David Douglas, on
the head waters of the Umpqua, it attains still grander dimensions, one
specimen having been measured that was 245 feet high, and over eighteen
feet in diameter three feet from the ground. The discoverer was the
Douglas for whom the noble Douglas Spruce is named, and many other
plants which will keep his memory sweet and fresh as long as trees and
flowers are loved. His first visit to the Pacific Coast was made in the
year 1825. The Oregon Indians watched him with curiosity as he wandered
in the woods collecting specimens, and, unlike the fur-gathering
strangers they had hitherto known, caring nothing about trade. And when
at length they came to know him better, and saw that from year to year
the growing things of the woods and prairies were his only objects of
pursuit, they called him "The Man of Grass," a title of which he was
proud. During his first summer on the waters of the Columbia he made
Fort Vancouver his headquarters, making excursions from this Hudson Bay
post in every direction. On one of his long trips he saw in an Indian's
pouch some of the seeds of a new species of pine which he learned were
obtained from a very large tree far to the southward of the Columbia. At
the end of the next summer, returning to Fort Vancouver after the
setting in of the winter rains, bearing in mind the big pine he had
heard of, he set out on an excursion up the Willamette Valley in search
of it; and how he fared, and what dangers and hardships he endured, are
best told in his own journal, from which I quote as follows:
    _October_ 26, 1826. Weather dull. Cold and cloudy. When my
    friends in England are made acquainted with my travels I fear they
    will think I have told them nothing but my miseries.... I quitted
    my camp early in the morning to survey the neighboring country,
    leaving my guide to take charge of the horses until my return in
    the evening. About an hour's walk from the camp I met an Indian,
    who on perceiving me instantly strung his bow, placed on his left
    arm a sleeve of raccoon skin and stood on the defensive. Being
    quite sure that conduct was prompted by fear and not by hostile
    intentions, the poor fellow having probably never seen such a being
    as myself before, I laid my gun at my feet on the ground and waved
    my hand for him to come to me, which he did slowly and with great
    caution. I then made him place his bow and quiver of arrows beside
    my gun, and striking a light gave him a smoke out of my own pipe
    and a present of a few beads. With my pencil I made a rough sketch
    of the cone and pine tree which I wanted to obtain, and drew his
    attention to it, when he instantly pointed with his hand to the
    hills fifteen or twenty miles distant towards the south; and when I
    expressed my intention of going thither, cheerfully set out to
    accompany me. At midday I reached my long-wished-for pines, and
    lost no time in examining them and endeavoring to collect specimens
    and seeds. New and strange things seldom fail to make strong
    impressions, and are therefore frequently over-rated; so that, lest
    I should never see my friends in England to inform them verbally of
    this most beautiful and immensely grand tree, I shall here state
    the dimensions of the largest I could find among several that had
    been blown down by the wind. At 3 feet from the ground its
    circumference is 57 feet 9 inches; at 134 feet, 17 feet 5 inches;
    the extreme length 245 feet.... As it was impossible either to
    climb the tree or hew it down, I endeavored to knock off the cones
    by firing at them with ball, when the report of my gun brought
    eight Indians, all of them painted with red earth, armed with bows,
    arrows, bone-tipped spears, and flint-knives. They appeared
    anything but friendly. I explained to them what I wanted, and they
    seemed satisfied and sat down to smoke; but presently I saw one of
    them string his bow, and another sharpen his flint knife with a
    pair of wooden pincers and suspend it off the wrist of his right
    hand. Further testimony of their intentions was unnecessary. To
    save myself by flight was impossible, so without hesitation I
    stepped back about five paces, cocked my gun, drew one of the
    pistols out of my belt, and holding it in my left hand and the gun
    in my right, showed myself determined to fight for my life. As much
    as possible I endeavored to preserve my coolness, and thus we stood
    looking at one another without making any movement or uttering a
    word for perhaps ten minutes, when one at last, who seemed to be
    the leader, gave a sign that they wished for some tobacco; this I
    signified that they should have if they fetched a quantity of
    cones. They went off immediately in search of them, and no sooner
    were they all out of sight than I picked up my three cones and some
    twigs of the trees and made the quickest possible retreat, hurrying
    back to the camp, which I reached before dusk.... I now write lying
    on the grass with my gun cocked beside me, and penning these lines
    by the light of my Columbian candle, namely, an ignited piece of
    rosin-wood.
This grand pine discovered under such, exciting circumstances Douglas
named in honor of his friend Dr. Lambert of London.
The trunk is a smooth, round, delicately tapered shaft, mostly without
limbs, and colored rich purplish-brown, usually enlivened with tufts of
yellow lichen. At the top of this magnificent bole, long, curving
branches sweep gracefully outward and downward, sometimes forming a
palm-like crown, but far more nobly impressive than any palm crown I
ever beheld. The needles are about three inches long, finely tempered
and arranged in rather close tassels at the ends of slender branchlets
that clothe the long, outsweeping limbs. How well they sing in the wind,
and how strikingly harmonious an effect is made by the immense
cylindrical cones that depend loosely from the ends of the main
branches! No one knows what Nature can do in the way of pine-burs until
he has seen those of the Sugar Pine. They are commonly from fifteen to
eighteen inches long, and three in diameter; green, shaded with dark
purple on their sunward sides. They are ripe in September and October.
Then the flat scales open and the seeds take wing, but the empty cones
become still more beautiful and effective, for their diameter is nearly
doubled by the spreading of the scales, and their color changes to a
warm yellowish-brown; while they remain swinging on the tree all the
following winter and summer, and continue effectively beautiful even on
the ground many years after they fall. The wood is deliciously fragrant,
and fine in grain and texture; it is of a rich cream-yellow, as if
formed of condensed sunbeams. _Retinospora obtusa, Siebold_, the
glory of Eastern forests, is called "Fu-si-no-ki" (tree of the sun) by
the Japanese; the Sugar Pine is the sun-tree of the Sierra.
Unfortunately it is greatly prized by the lumbermen, and in accessible
places is always the first tree in the woods to feel their steel. But
the regular lumbermen, with their saw-mills, have been, less generally
destructive thus far than the shingle-makers. The wood splits freely,
and there is a constant demand for the shingles. And because an ax, and
saw, and frow are all the capital required for the business, many of
that drifting, unsteady class of men so large in California engage in it
for a few months in the year. When prospectors, hunters, ranch hands,
etc., touch their "bottom dollar" and find themselves out of employment,
they say, "Well, I can at least go to the Sugar Pines and make
shingles." A few posts are set in the ground, and a single length cut
from the first tree felled produces boards enough for the walls and roof
of a cabin; all the rest the lumberman makes is for sale, and he is
speedily independent. No gardener or haymaker is more sweetly perfumed
than these rough mountaineers while engaged in this business, but the
havoc they make is most deplorable.
[Illustration: SUGAR PINE ON EXPOSED RIDGE.]
The sugar, from which the common name is derived, is to my taste the
best of sweets--better than maple sugar. It exudes from the heart-wood,
where wounds have been made, either by forest fires, or the ax, in the
shape of irregular, crisp, candy-like kernels, which are crowded
together in masses of considerable size, like clusters of resin-beads.
When fresh, it is perfectly white and delicious, but, because most of
the wounds on which it is found have been made by fire, the exuding sap
is stained on the charred surface, and the hardened sugar becomes brown.
Indians are fond of it, but on account of its laxative properties only
small quantities may be eaten. Bears, so fond of sweet things in
general, seem never to taste it; at least I have failed to find any
trace of their teeth in this connection.
No lover of trees will ever forget his first meeting with the Sugar
Pine, nor will he afterward need a poet to call him to "listen what the
pine-tree saith." In most pine-trees there is a sameness of expression,
which, to most people, is apt to become monotonous; for the typical
spiry form, however beautiful, affords but little scope for appreciable
individual character. The Sugar Pine is as free from conventionalities
of form and motion as any oak. No two are alike, even to the most
inattentive observer; and, notwithstanding they are ever tossing out
their immense arms in what might seem most extravagant gestures, there
is a majesty and repose about them that precludes all possibility of the
grotesque, or even picturesque, in their general expression. They are
the priests of pines, and seem ever to be addressing the surrounding
forest. The Yellow Pine is found growing with them on warm hillsides,
and the White Silver Fir on cool northern slopes; but, noble as these
are, the Sugar Pine is easily king, and spreads his arms above them in
blessing while they rock and wave in sign of recognition. The main
branches are sometimes found to be forty feet in length, yet
persistently simple, seldom dividing at all, excepting near the end; but
anything like a bare cable appearance is prevented by the small,
tasseled branchlets that extend all around them; and when these superb
limbs sweep out symmetrically on all sides, a crown sixty or seventy
feet wide is formed, which, gracefully poised on the summit of the noble
shaft, and filled with sunshine, is one of the most glorious forest
objects conceivable. Commonly, however, there is a great preponderance
of limbs toward the east, away from the direction of the prevailing
No other pine seems to me so unfamiliar and self-contained. In
approaching it, we feel as if in the presence of a superior being, and
begin to walk with a light step, holding our breath. Then, perchance,
while we gaze awe-stricken, along comes a merry squirrel, chattering and
laughing, to break the spell, running up the trunk with no ceremony, and
gnawing off the cones as if they were made only for him; while the
carpenter-woodpecker hammers away at the bark, drilling holes in which
to store his winter supply of acorns.
[Illustration: YOUNG SUGAR PINE BEGINNING TO BEAR CONES.]
Although so wild and unconventional when full-grown, the Sugar Pine is a
remarkably proper tree in youth. The old is the most original and
independent in appearance of all the Sierra evergreens; the young is the
most regular,--a strict follower of coniferous fashions,--slim, erect,
with leafy, supple branches kept exactly in place, each tapering in
outline and terminating in a spiry point. The successive transitional
forms presented between the cautious neatness of youth and bold freedom
of maturity offer a delightful study. At the age of fifty or sixty
years, the shy, fashionable form begins to be broken up. Specialized
branches push out in the most unthought-of places, and bend with the
great cones, at once marking individual character, and this being
constantly augmented from year to year by the varying action of the
sunlight, winds, snow-storms, etc., the individuality of the tree is
never again lost in the general forest.
The most constant companion of this species is the Yellow Pine, and a
worthy companion it is.
[Illustration: FOREST OF SEQUOIA, SUGAR PINE, AND DOUGLAS SPRUCE.]
The Douglas Spruce, Libocedrus, Sequoia, and the White Silver Fir are
also more or less associated with it; but on many deep-soiled
mountain-sides, at an elevation of about 5000 feet above the sea, it
forms the bulk of the forest, filling every swell and hollow and
down-plunging ravine. The majestic crowns, approaching each other in
bold curves, make a glorious canopy through which the tempered sunbeams
pour, silvering the needles, and gilding the massive boles, and flowery,
park-like ground, into a scene of enchantment.
On the most sunny slopes the white-flowered fragrant chamoebatia is
spread like a carpet, brightened during early summer with the crimson
Sarcodes, the wild rose, and innumerable violets and gilias. Not even in
the shadiest nooks will you find any rank, untidy weeds or unwholesome
darkness. On the north sides of ridges the boles are more slender, and
the ground is mostly occupied by an underbrush of hazel, ceanothus, and
flowering dogwood, but never so densely as to prevent the traveler from
sauntering where he will; while the crowning branches are never
impenetrable to the rays of the sun, and never so interblended as to
lose their individuality.
View the forest from beneath or from some commanding ridge-top; each
tree presents a study in itself, and proclaims the surpassing grandeur
of the species.
YELLOW, OR SILVER PINE
(_Pinus ponderosa_)
The Silver, or Yellow, Pine, as it is commonly called, ranks second
among the pines of the Sierra as a lumber tree, and almost rivals the
Sugar Pine in stature and nobleness of port. Because of its superior
powers of enduring variations of climate and soil, it has a more
extensive range than any other conifer growing on the Sierra. On the
western slope it is first met at an elevation of about 2000 feet, and
extends nearly to the upper limit of the timber line. Thence, crossing
the range by the lowest passes, it descends to the eastern base, and
pushes out for a considerable distance into the hot volcanic plains,
growing bravely upon well-watered moraines, gravelly lake basins, arctic
ridges, and torrid lava-beds; planting itself upon the lips of craters,
flourishing vigorously even there, and tossing ripe cones among the
ashes and cinders of Nature's hearths.
The average size of full-grown trees on the western slope, where it is
associated with the Sugar Pine, is a little less than 200 feet in height
and from five to six feet in diameter, though specimens may easily be
found that are considerably larger. I measured one, growing at an
elevation of 4000 feet in the valley of the Merced, that is a few inches
over eight feet in diameter, and 220 feet high.
Where there is plenty of free sunshine and other conditions are
favorable, it presents a striking contrast in form to the Sugar Pine,
being a symmetrical spire, formed of a straight round trunk, clad with
innumerable branches that are divided over and over again. About one
half of the trunk is commonly branchless, but where it grows at all
close, three fourths or more become naked; the tree presenting then a
more slender and elegant shaft than any other tree in the woods. The
bark is mostly arranged in massive plates, some of them measuring four
or five feet in length by eighteen inches in width, with a thickness of
three or four inches, forming a quite marked and distinguishing feature.
The needles are of a fine, warm, yellow-green color, six to eight inches
long, firm and elastic, and crowded in handsome, radiant tassels on the
upturning ends of the branches. The cones are about three or four inches
long, and two and a half wide, growing in close, sessile clusters among
[Illustration: PINUS PONDEROSA.]
The species attains its noblest form in filled-up lake basins,
especially in those of the older yosemites, and so prominent a part does
it form of their groves that it may well be called the Yosemite Pine.
Ripe specimens favorably situated are almost always 200 feet or more in
height, and the branches clothe the trunk nearly to the ground, as seen
in the illustration.
The Jeffrey variety attains its finest development in the northern
portion of the range, in the wide basins of the McCloud and Pitt rivers,
where it forms magnificent forests scarcely invaded by any other tree.
It differs from the ordinary form in size, being only about half as
tall, and in its redder and more closely furrowed bark, grayish-green
foliage, less divided branches, and larger cones; but intermediate forms
come in which make a clear separation impossible, although some
botanists regard it as a distinct species. It is this variety that
climbs storm-swept ridges, and wanders out among the volcanoes of the
Great Basin. Whether exposed to extremes of heat or cold, it is dwarfed
like every other tree, and becomes all knots and angles, wholly unlike
the majestic forms we have been sketching. Old specimens, bearing cones
about as big as pineapples, may sometimes be found clinging to rifted
rocks at an elevation of seven or eight thousand feet, whose highest
branches scarce reach above one's shoulders.
[Illustration: SILVER PINE 210 FEET HIGH. (THE FORM GROWING IN YOSEMITE
I have oftentimes feasted on the beauty of these noble trees when they
were towering in all their winter grandeur, laden with snow--one mass of
bloom; in summer, too, when the brown, staminate clusters hang thick
among the shimmering needles, and the big purple burs are ripening in
the mellow light; but it is during cloudless wind-storms that these
colossal pines are most impressively beautiful. Then they bow like
willows, their leaves streaming forward all in one direction, and, when
the sun shines upon them at the required angle, entire groves glow as if
every leaf were burnished silver. The fall of tropic light on the royal
crown of a palm is a truly glorious spectacle, the fervid sun-flood
breaking upon the glossy leaves in long lance-rays, like mountain water
among boulders. But to me there is something more impressive in the fall
of light upon these Silver Pines. It seems beaten to the finest dust,
and is shed off in myriads of minute sparkles that seem to come from the
very heart of the trees, as if, like rain falling upon fertile soil, it
had been absorbed, to reappear in flowers of light.
This species also gives forth the finest music to the wind. After
listening to it in all kinds of winds, night and day, season after
season, I think I could approximate to my position on the mountains by
this pine-music alone. If you would catch the tones of separate needles,
climb a tree. They are well tempered, and give forth no uncertain sound,
each standing out, with no interference excepting during heavy gales;
then you may detect the click of one needle upon another, readily
distinguishable from their free, wing-like hum. Some idea of their
temper may be drawn from the fact that, notwithstanding they are so
long, the vibrations that give rise to the peculiar shimmering of the
light are made at the rate of about two hundred and fifty per minute.
When a Sugar Pine and one of this species equal in size are observed
together, the latter is seen to be far more simple in manners, more
lithely graceful, and its beauty is of a kind more easily appreciated;
but then, it is, on the other hand, much less dignified and original in
demeanor. The Silver Pine seems eager to shoot aloft. Even while it is
drowsing in autumn sun-gold, you may still detect a skyward aspiration.
But the Sugar Pine seems too unconsciously noble, and too complete in
every way, to leave room for even a heavenward care.
DOUGLAS SPRUCE
(_Pseudotsuga Douglasii_)
This tree is the king of the spruces, as the Sugar Pine is king of
pines. It is by far the most majestic spruce I ever beheld in any
forest, and one of the largest and longest lived of the giants that
flourish throughout the main pine belt, often attaining a height of
nearly 200 feet, and a diameter of six or seven. Where the growth is not
too close, the strong, spreading branches come more than halfway down
the trunk, and these are hung with innumerable slender, swaying sprays,
that are handsomely feathered with the short leaves which radiate at
right angles all around them. This vigorous spruce is ever beautiful,
welcoming the mountain winds and the snow as well as the mellow summer
light, and maintaining its youthful freshness undiminished from century
to century through a thousand storms.
It makes its finest appearance in the months of June and July. The rich
brown buds with which its sprays are tipped swell and break about this
time, revealing the young leaves, which at first are bright yellow,
making the tree appear as if covered with gay blossoms; while the
pendulous bracted cones with their shell-like scales are a constant
The young trees are mostly gathered into beautiful family groups, each
sapling exquisitely symmetrical. The primary branches are whorled
regularly around the axis, generally in fives, while each is draped with
long, feathery sprays, that descend in curves as free and as finely
drawn as those of falling water.
In Oregon and Washington it grows in dense forests, growing tall and
mast-like to a height of 300 feet, and is greatly prized as a lumber
tree. But in the Sierra it is scattered among other trees, or forms
small groves, seldom ascending higher than 5500 feet, and never making
what would be called a forest. It is not particular in its choice of
soil--wet or dry, smooth or rocky, it makes out to live well on them
all. Two of the largest specimens I have measured are in Yosemite
Valley, one of which is more than eight feet in diameter, and is growing
upon the terminal moraine of the residual glacier that occupied the
South Fork Canon; the other is nearly as large, growing upon angular
blocks of granite that have been shaken from the precipitous front of
the Liberty Cap near the Nevada Fall. No other tree seems so capable of
adapting itself to earthquake taluses, and many of these rough
boulder-slopes are occupied by it almost exclusively, especially in
yosemite gorges moistened by the spray of waterfalls.
INCENSE CEDAR
(_Libocedrus decurrens_)
The Incense Cedar is another of the giants quite generally distributed
throughout this portion of the forest, without exclusively occupying any
considerable area, or even making extensive groves. It ascends to about
5000 feet on the warmer hillsides, and reaches the climate most
congenial to it at about from 3000 to 4000 feet, growing vigorously at
this elevation on all kinds of soil, and in particular it is capable of
enduring more moisture about its roots than any of its companions,
excepting only the Sequoia.
The largest specimens are about 150 feet high, and seven feet in
diameter. The bark is brown, of a singularly rich tone very attractive
to artists, and the foliage is tinted with a warmer yellow than that of
any other evergreen in the woods. Casting your eye over the general
forest from some ridge-top, the color alone of its spiry summits is
sufficient to identify it in any company.
In youth, say up to the age of seventy or eighty years, no other tree
forms so strictly tapered a cone from top to bottom. The branches swoop
outward and downward in bold curves, excepting the younger ones near the
top, which aspire, while the lowest droop to the ground, and all spread
out in flat, ferny plumes, beautifully fronded, and imbricated upon one
another. As it becomes older, it grows strikingly irregular and
picturesque. Large special branches put out at right angles from the
trunk, form big, stubborn elbows, and then shoot up parallel with the
axis. Very old trees are usually dead at the top, the main axis
protruding above ample masses of green plumes, gray and lichen-covered,
and drilled full of acorn holes by the woodpeckers. The plumes are
exceedingly beautiful; no waving fern-frond in shady dell is more
unreservedly beautiful in form and texture, or half so inspiring in
color and spicy fragrance. In its prime, the whole tree is thatched with
them, so that they shed off rain and snow like a roof, making fine
mansions for storm-bound birds and mountaineers. But if you would see
the _Libocedrus_ in all its glory, you must go to the woods in
winter. Then it is laden with myriads of four-sided staminate cones
about the size of wheat grains,--winter wheat,--producing a golden
tinge, and forming a noble illustration of Nature's immortal vigor and
virility. The fertile cones are about three fourths of an inch long,
borne on the outside of the plumy branchlets, where they serve to enrich
still more the surpassing beauty of this grand winter-blooming
[Illustration: INCENSE CEDAR IN ITS PRIME.]
WHITE SILVER FIR
(_Abies concolor_)
[Illustration: FOREST OF GRAND SILVER FIRS. TWO SEQUOIAS IN THE
FOREGROUND ON THE LEFT.]
We come now to the most regularly planted of all the main forest belts,
composed almost exclusively of two noble firs--_A. concolor_ and
_A. magnifica_. It extends with no marked interruption for 450
miles, at an elevation of from 5000 to nearly 9000 feet above the sea.
In its youth _A. concolor_ is a charmingly symmetrical tree with
branches regularly whorled in level collars around its whitish-gray
axis, which terminates in a strong, hopeful shoot. The leaves are in two
horizontal rows, along branchlets that commonly are less than eight
years old, forming handsome plumes, pinnated like the fronds of ferns.
The cones are grayish-green when ripe, cylindrical, about from three to
four inches long by one and a half to two inches wide, and stand upright
on the upper branches.
Full-grown trees, favorably situated as to soil and exposure, are about
200 feet high, and five or six feet in diameter near the ground, though
larger specimens are by no means rare.
As old age creeps on, the bark becomes rougher and grayer, the branches
lose their exact regularity, many are snow-bent or broken off, and the
main axis often becomes double or otherwise irregular from accidents to
the terminal bud or shoot; but throughout all the vicissitudes of its
life on the mountains, come what may, the noble grandeur of the species
is patent to every eye.
MAGNIFICENT SILVER FIR, OR RED FIR
(_Abies magnifica_)
This is the most charmingly symmetrical of all the giants of the Sierra
woods, far surpassing its companion species in this respect, and easily
distinguished from it by the purplish-red bark, which is also more
closely furrowed than that of the white, and by its larger cones, more
regularly whorled and fronded branches, and by its leaves, which are
shorter, and grow all around the branchlets and point upward.
In size, these two Silver Firs are about equal, the _magnifica_
perhaps a little the taller. Specimens from 200 to 250 feet high are not
rare on well-ground moraine soil, at an elevation of from 7500 to 8500
feet above sea-level. The largest that I measured stands back three
miles from the brink of the north wall of Yosemite Valley. Fifteen years
ago it was 240 feet high, with a diameter of a little more than five
Happy the man with the freedom and the love to climb one of these superb
trees in full flower and fruit. How admirable the forest-work of Nature
is then seen to be, as one makes his way up through the midst of the
broad, fronded branches, all arranged in exquisite order around the
trunk, like the whorled leaves of lilies, and each branch and branchlet
about as strictly pinnate as the most symmetrical fern-frond. The
staminate cones are seen growing straight downward from the under side
of the young branches in lavish profusion, making fine purple clusters
amid the grayish-green foliage. On the topmost branches the fertile
cones are set firmly on end like small casks. They are about six inches
long, three wide, covered with a fine gray down, and streaked with
crystal balsam that seems to have been poured upon each cone from above.
Both the Silver Firs live 250 years or more when the conditions about
them are at all favorable. Some venerable patriarch may often be seen,
heavily storm-marked, towering in severe majesty above the rising
generation, with a protecting grove of saplings pressing close around
his feet, each dressed with such loving care that not a leaf seems
wanting. Other companies are made up of trees near the prime of life,
exquisitely harmonized to one another in form and gesture, as if Nature
had culled them one by one with nice discrimination from all the rest of
[Illustration: VIEW OF FOREST OF THE MAGNIFICENT SILVER FIR.]
It is from this tree, called Red Fir by the lumberman, that mountaineers
always cut boughs to sleep on when they are so fortunate as to be within
its limits. Two rows of the plushy branches overlapping along the
middle, and a crescent of smaller plumes mixed with ferns and flowers
for a pillow, form the very best bed imaginable. The essences of the
pressed leaves seem to fill every pore of one's body, the sounds of
falling water make a soothing hush, while the spaces between the grand
spires afford noble openings through which to gaze dreamily into the
starry sky. Even in the matter of sensuous ease, any combination of
cloth, steel springs, and feathers seems vulgar in comparison.
The fir woods are delightful sauntering-grounds at any time of year, but
most so in autumn. Then the noble trees are hushed in the hazy light,
and drip with balsam; the cones are ripe, and the seeds, with their
ample purple wings, mottle the air like flocks of butterflies; while
deer feeding in the flowery openings between the groves, and birds and
squirrels in the branches, make a pleasant stir which enriches the deep,
brooding calm of the wilderness, and gives a peculiar impressiveness to
every tree. No wonder the enthusiastic Douglas went wild with joy when
he first discovered this species. Even in the Sierra, where so many
noble evergreens challenge admiration, we linger among these colossal
firs with fresh love, and extol their beauty again and again, as if no
other in the world could henceforth claim our regard.
[Illustration: SILVER-FIR FOREST GROWING ON MORAINES OF THE HOFFMAN AND
TENAYA GLACIERS.]
It is in these woods the great granite domes rise that are so striking
and characteristic a feature of the Sierra. And here too we find the
best of the garden meadows. They lie level on the tops of the dividing
ridges, or sloping on the sides of them, embedded in the magnificent
forest. Some of these meadows are in great part occupied by
_Veratrumalba_, which here grows rank and tall, with boat-shaped
leaves thirteen inches long and twelve inches wide, ribbed like those of
cypripedium. Columbine grows on the drier margins with tall larkspurs
and lupines waist-deep in grasses and sedges; several species of
castilleia also make a bright show in beds of blue and white violets and
daisies. But the glory of these forest meadows is a lily--_L. parvum_.
The flowers are orange-colored and quite small, the smallest I ever saw
of the true lilies; but it is showy nevertheless, for it is seven to
eight feet high and waves magnificent racemes of ten to twenty flowers
or more over one's head, while it stands out in the open ground with
just enough of grass and other plants about it to make a fringe for
its feet and show it off to best advantage.
A dry spot a little way back from the margin of a Silver Fir lily garden
makes a glorious campground, especially where the slope is toward the
east and opens a view of the distant peaks along the summit of the
range. The tall lilies are brought forward in all their glory by the
light of your blazing camp-fire, relieved against the outer darkness,
and the nearest of the trees with their whorled branches tower above you
like larger lilies, and the sky seen through the garden opening seems
one vast meadow of white lily stars.
In the morning everything is joyous and bright, the delicious purple of
the dawn changes softly to daffodil yellow and white; while the sunbeams
pouring through the passes between the peaks give a margin of gold to
each of them. Then the spires of the firs in the hollows of the middle
region catch the glow, and your camp grove is filled with light. The
birds begin to stir, seeking sunny branches on the edge of the meadow
for sun-baths after the cold night, and looking for their breakfasts,
every one of them as fresh as a lily and as charmingly arrayed.
Innumerable insects begin to dance, the deer withdraw from the open
glades and ridge-tops to their leafy hiding-places in the chaparral, the
flowers open and straighten their petals as the dew vanishes, every
pulse beats high, every life-cell rejoices, the very rocks seem to
tingle with life, and God is felt brooding over everything great and
(_Sequoia gigantea_)
Between the heavy pine and Silver Fir belts we find the Big Tree, the
king of all the conifers in the world, "the noblest of a noble race." It
extends in a widely interrupted belt from a small grove on the middle
fork of the American River to the head of Deer Creek, a distance of
about 260 miles, the northern limit being near the thirty-ninth
parallel, the southern a little below the thirty-sixth, and the
elevation of the belt above the sea varies from about 5000 to 8000 feet.
From the American River grove to the forest on King's River the species
occurs only in small isolated groups so sparsely distributed along the
belt that three of the gaps in it are from forty to sixty miles wide.
But from King's River southward the Sequoia is not restricted to mere
groves, but extends across the broad rugged basins of the Kaweah and
Tule rivers in noble forests, a distance of nearly seventy miles, the
continuity of this part of the belt being broken only by deep canons.
The Fresno, the largest of the northern groves, occupies an area of
three or four square miles, a short distance to the southward of the
famous Mariposa Grove. Along the beveled rim of the canon of the south
fork of King's River there is a majestic forest of Sequoia about six
miles long by two wide. This is the northernmost assemblage of Big Trees
that may fairly be called a forest. Descending the precipitous divide
between the King's River and Kaweah you enter the grand forests that
form the main continuous portion of the belt. Advancing southward the
giants become more and more irrepressibly exuberant, heaving their
massive crowns into the sky from every ridge and slope, and waving
onward in graceful compliance with the complicated topography of the
region. The finest of the Kaweah section of the belt is on the broad
ridge between Marble Creek and the middle fork, and extends from the
granite headlands overlooking the hot plains to within a few miles of
the cool glacial fountains of the summit peaks. The extreme upper limit
of the belt is reached between the middle and south forks of the Kaweah
at an elevation of 8400 feet. But the finest block of Big Tree forest in
the entire belt is on the north fork of Tule River. In the northern
groves there are comparatively few young trees or saplings. But here for
every old, storm-stricken giant there are many in all the glory of prime
vigor, and for each of these a crowd of eager, hopeful young trees and
saplings growing heartily on moraines, rocky ledges, along watercourses,
and in the moist alluvium of meadows, seemingly in hot pursuit of
eternal life.
But though the area occupied by the species increases so much from north
to south there is no marked increase in the size of the trees. A height
of 275 feet and a diameter near the ground of about 20 feet is perhaps
about the average size of full-grown trees favorably situated; specimens
25 feet in diameter are not very rare, and a few are nearly 300 feet
high. In the Calaveras Grove there are four trees over 300 feet in
height, the tallest of which by careful measurement is 325 feet. The
largest I have yet met in the course of my explorations is a majestic
old scarred monument in the King's River forest. It is 35 feet 8 inches
in diameter inside the bark four feet from the ground. Under the most
favorable conditions these giants probably live 5000 years or more,
though few of even the larger trees are more than half as old. I never
saw a Big Tree that had died a natural death; barring accidents they
seem to be immortal, being exempt from all the diseases that afflict and
kill other trees. Unless destroyed by man, they live on indefinitely
until burned, smashed by lightning, or cast down by storms, or by the
giving way of the ground on which they stand. The age of one that was
felled in the Calaveras Grove, for the sake of having its stump for a
dancing-floor, was about 1300 years, and its diameter, measured across
the stump, 24 feet inside the bark. Another that was cut down in the
King's River forest was about the same size, but nearly a thousand years
older (2200 years), though not a very old-looking tree. It was felled to
procure a section for exhibition, and thus an opportunity was given to
count its annual rings of growth. The colossal scarred monument in the
King's River forest mentioned above is burned half through, and I spent
a day in making an estimate of its age, clearing away the charred
surface with an ax and carefully counting the annual rings with the aid
of a pocket-lens. The wood-rings in the section I laid bare were so
involved and contorted in some places that I was not able to determine
its age exactly, but I counted over 4000 rings, which showed that this
tree was in its prime, swaying in the Sierra winds, when Christ walked
the earth. No other tree in the world, as far as I know, has looked down
on so many centuries as the Sequoia, or opens such impressive and
suggestive views into history.
So exquisitely harmonious and finely balanced are even the very
mightiest of these monarchs of the woods in all their proportions and
circumstances there never is anything overgrown or monstrous-looking
about them. On coming in sight of them for the first time, you are
likely to say, "Oh, see what beautiful, noble-looking trees are towering
there among the firs and pines!"--their grandeur being in the mean time
in great part invisible, but to the living eye it will be manifested
sooner or later, stealing slowly on the senses, like the grandeur of
Niagara, or the lofty Yosemite domes. Their great size is hidden from
the inexperienced observer as long as they are seen at a distance in one
harmonious view. When, however, you approach them and walk round them,
you begin to wonder at their colossal size and seek a measuring-rod.
These giants bulge considerably at the base, but not more than is
required for beauty and safety; and the only reason that this bulging
seems in some cases excessive is that only a comparatively small section
of the shaft is seen at once in near views. One that I measured in the
King's River forest was 25 feet in diameter at the ground, and 10 feet
in diameter 200 feet above the ground, showing that the taper of the
trunk as a whole is charmingly fine. And when you stand back far enough
to see the massive columns from the swelling instep to the lofty summit
dissolving in a dome of verdure, you rejoice in the unrivaled display of
combined grandeur and beauty. About a hundred feet or more of the trunk
is usually branchless, but its massive simplicity is relieved by the
bark furrows, which instead of making an irregular network run evenly
parallel, like the fluting of an architectural column, and to some
extent by tufts of slender sprays that wave lightly in the winds and
cast flecks of shade, seeming to have been pinned on here and there for
the sake of beauty only. The young trees have slender simple branches
down to the ground, put on with strict regularity, sharply aspiring at
the top, horizontal about half-way down, and drooping in handsome curves
at the base. By the time the sapling is five or six hundred years old
this spiry, feathery, juvenile habit merges into the firm, rounded dome
form of middle age, which in turn takes on the eccentric picturesqueness
of old age. No other tree in the Sierra forest has foliage so densely
massed or presents outlines so firmly drawn and so steadily subordinate
to a special type. A knotty ungovernable-looking branch five to eight
feet thick may be seen pushing out abruptly from the smooth trunk, as if
sure to throw the regular curve into confusion, but as soon as the
general outline is reached it stops short and dissolves in spreading
bosses of law-abiding sprays, just as if every tree were growing beneath
some huge, invisible bell-glass, against whose sides every branch was
being pressed and molded, yet somehow indulging in so many small
departures from the regular form that there is still an appearance of
The foliage of the saplings is dark bluish-green in color, while the
older trees ripen to a warm brownish-yellow tint like Libocedrus. The
bark is rich cinnamon-brown, purplish in young trees and in shady
portions of the old, while the ground is covered with brown leaves and
burs forming color-masses of extraordinary richness, not to mention the
flowers and underbrush that rejoice about them in their seasons. Walk
the Sequoia woods at any time of year and you will say they are the most
beautiful and majestic on earth. Beautiful and impressive contrasts meet
you everywhere: the colors of tree and flower, rock and sky, light and
shade, strength and frailty, endurance and evanescence, tangles of
supple hazel-bushes, tree-pillars about as rigid as granite domes, roses
and violets, the smallest of their kind, blooming around the feet of the
giants, and rugs of the lowly chamaebatia where the sunbeams fall. Then
in winter the trees themselves break forth in bloom, myriads of small
four-sided staminate cones crowd the ends of the slender sprays,
coloring the whole tree, and when ripe dusting the air and the ground
with golden pollen. The fertile cones are bright grass-green, measuring
about two inches in length by one and a half in thickness, and are made
up of about forty firm rhomboidal scales densely packed, with from five
to eight seeds at the base of each. A single cone, therefore, contains
from two to three hundred seeds, which are about a fourth of an inch
long by three sixteenths wide, including a thin, flat margin that makes
them go glancing and wavering in their fall like a boy's kite. The
fruitfulness of Sequoia may be illustrated by two specimen branches one
and a half and two inches in diameter on which I counted 480 cones. No
other Sierra conifer produces nearly so many seeds. Millions are ripened
annually by a single tree, and in a fruitful year the product of one of
the northern groves would be enough to plant all the mountain-ranges of
the world. Nature takes care, however, that not one seed in a million
shall germinate at all, and of those that do perhaps not one in ten
thousand is suffered to live through the many vicissitudes of storm,
drought, fire, and snow-crushing that beset their youth.
The Douglas squirrel is the happy harvester of most of the Sequoia
cones. Out of every hundred perhaps ninety fall to his share, and unless
cut off by his ivory sickle they shake out their seeds and remain on the
tree for many years. Watching the squirrels at their harvest work in the
Indian summer is one of the most delightful diversions imaginable. The
woods are calm and the ripe colors are blazing in all their glory; the
cone-laden trees stand motionless in the warm, hazy air, and you may see
the crimson-crested woodcock, the prince of Sierra woodpeckers, drilling
some dead limb or fallen trunk with his bill, and ever and anon filling
the glens with his happy cackle. The humming-bird, too, dwells in these
noble woods, and may oftentimes be seen glancing among the flowers or
resting wing-weary on some leafless twig; here also are the familiar
robin of the orchards, and the brown and grizzly bears so obviously
fitted for these majestic solitudes; and the Douglas squirrel, making
more hilarious, exuberant, vital stir than all the bears, birds, and
humming wings together.
As soon as any accident happens to the crown of these Sequoias, such as
being stricken off by lightning or broken by storms, then the branches
beneath the wound, no matter how situated, seem to be excited like a
colony of bees that have lost their queen, and become anxious to repair
the damage. Limbs that have grown outward for centuries at right angles
to the trunk begin to turn upward to assist in making a new crown, each
speedily assuming the special form of true summits. Even in the case of
mere stumps, burned half through, some mere ornamental tuft will try to
go aloft and do its best as a leader in forming a new head.
Groups of two or three of these grand trees are often found standing
close together, the seeds from which they sprang having probably grown
on ground cleared for their reception by the fall of a large tree of a
former generation. These patches of fresh, mellow soil beside the
upturned roots of the fallen giant may be from forty to sixty feet wide,
and they are speedily occupied by seedlings. Out of these
seedling-thickets perhaps two or three may become trees, forming those
close groups called "three graces," "loving couples," etc. For even
supposing that the trees should stand twenty or thirty feet apart while
young, by the time they are full-grown their trunks will touch and crowd
against each other and even appear as one in some cases.
It is generally believed that this grand Sequoia was once far more
widely distributed over the Sierra; but after long and careful study I
have come to the conclusion that it never was, at least since the close
of the glacial period, because a diligent search along the margins of
the groves, and in the gaps between, fails to reveal a single trace of
its previous existence beyond its present bounds. Notwithstanding, I
feel confident that if every Sequoia in the range were to die to-day,
numerous monuments of their existence would remain, of so imperishable a
nature as to be available for the student more than ten thousand years
In the first place we might notice that no species of coniferous tree in
the range keeps its individuals so well together as Sequoia; a mile is
perhaps the greatest distance of any straggler from the main body, and
all of those stragglers that have come under my observation are young,
instead of old monumental trees, relics of a more extended growth.
Again, Sequoia trunks frequently endure for centuries after they fall. I
have a specimen block, cut from a fallen trunk, which is hardly
distinguishable from specimens cut from living trees, although the old
trunk-fragment from which it was derived has lain in the damp forest
more than 380 years, probably thrice as long. The time measure in the
case is simply this: when the ponderous trunk to which the old vestige
belonged fell, it sunk itself into the ground, thus making a long,
straight ditch, and in the middle of this ditch a Silver Fir is growing
that is now four feet in diameter and 380 years old, as determined by
cutting it half through and counting the rings, thus demonstrating that
the remnant of the trunk that made the ditch has lain on the ground
_more_ than 380 years. For it is evident that to find the whole
time, we must add to the 380 years the time that the vanished portion of
the trunk lay in the ditch before being burned out of the way, plus the
time that passed before the seed from which the monumental fir sprang
fell into the prepared soil and took root. Now, because Sequoia trunks
are never wholly consumed in one forest fire, and those fires recur only
at considerable intervals, and because Sequoia ditches after being
cleared are often left unplanted for centuries, it becomes evident that
the trunk remnant in question may probably have lain a thousand years or
more. And this instance is by no means a rare one.
But admitting that upon those areas supposed to have been once covered
with Sequoia every tree may have fallen, and every trunk may have been
burned or buried, leaving not a remnant, many of the ditches made by the
fall of the ponderous trunks, and the bowls made by their upturning
roots, would remain patent for thousands of years after the last vestige
of the trunks that made them had vanished. Much of this ditch-writing
would no doubt be quickly effaced by the flood-action of overflowing
streams and rain-washing; but no inconsiderable portion would remain
enduringly engraved on ridge-tops beyond such destructive action; for,
where all the conditions are favorable, it is almost imperishable.
_Now these historic ditches and root bowls occur in all the present
Sequoia groves and forests, but as far as I have observed, not the
faintest vestige of one presents itself outside of them_.
We therefore conclude that the area covered by Sequoia has not been
diminished during the last eight or ten thousand years, and probably not
at all in post-glacial times.
_Is the species verging to extinction? What are its relations to
climate, soil, and associated trees?_
All the phenomena bearing on these questions also throw light, as we
shall endeavor to show, upon the peculiar distribution of the species,
and sustain the conclusion already arrived at on the question of
In the northern groups, as we have seen, there are few young trees or
saplings growing up around the failing old ones to perpetuate the race,
and in as much as those aged Sequoias, so nearly childless, are the only
ones commonly known, the species, to most observers, seems doomed to
speedy extinction, as being nothing more than an expiring remnant,
vanquished in the so-called struggle for life by pines and firs that
have driven it into its last strongholds in moist glens where climate is
exceptionally favorable. But the language of the majestic continuous
forests of the south creates a very different impression. No tree of all
the forest is more enduringly established in concordance with climate
and soil. It grows heartily everywhere--on moraines, rocky ledges, along
watercourses, and in the deep, moist alluvium of meadows, with a
multitude of seedlings and saplings crowding up around the aged,
seemingly abundantly able to maintain the forest in prime vigor. For
every old storm-stricken tree, there is one or more in all the glory of
prime; and for each of these many young trees and crowds of exuberant
saplings. So that if all the trees of any section of the main Sequoia
forest were ranged together according to age, a very promising curve
would be presented, all the way up from last year's seedlings to giants,
and with the young and middle-aged portion of the curve many times
longer than the old portion. Even as far north as the Fresno, I counted
536 saplings and seedlings growing promisingly upon a piece of rough
avalanche soil not exceeding two acres in area. This soil bed is about
seven years old, and has been seeded almost simultaneously by pines,
firs, Libocedrus, and Sequoia, presenting a simple and instructive
illustration of the struggle for life among the rival species; and it
was interesting to note that the conditions thus far affecting them have
enabled the young Sequoias to gain a marked advantage.
In every instance like the above I have observed that the seedling
Sequoia is capable of growing on both drier and wetter soil than its
rivals, but requires more sunshine than they; the latter fact being
clearly shown wherever a Sugar Pine or fir is growing in close contact
with a Sequoia of about equal age and size, and equally exposed to the
sun; the branches of the latter in such cases are always less leafy.
Toward the south, however, where the Sequoia becomes _more_
exuberant and numerous, the rival trees become _less_ so; and where
they mix with Sequoias, they mostly grow up beneath them, like slender
grasses among stalks of Indian corn. Upon a bed of sandy flood-soil I
counted ninety-four Sequoias, from one to twelve feet high, on a patch,
of ground once occupied by four large Sugar Pines which lay crumbling
beneath them,--an instance of conditions which have enabled Sequoias to
crowd out the pines.
I also noted eighty-six vigorous saplings upon a piece of fresh ground
prepared for their reception by fire. Thus fire, the great destroyer of
Sequoia, also furnishes bare virgin ground, one of the conditions
essential for its growth from the seed. Fresh ground is, however,
furnished in sufficient quantities for the constant renewal of the
forests without fire, viz., by the fall of old trees. The soil is thus
upturned and mellowed, and many trees are planted for every one that
falls. Land-slips and floods also give rise to bare virgin ground; and a
tree now and then owes its existence to a burrowing wolf or squirrel,
but the most regular supply of fresh soil is furnished by the fall of
The climatic changes in progress in the Sierra, bearing on the tenure of
tree life, are entirely misapprehended, especially as to the time and
the means employed by Nature in effecting them. It is constantly
asserted in a vague way that the Sierra was vastly wetter than now, and
that the increasing drought will of itself extinguish Sequoia, leaving
its ground to other trees supposed capable of nourishing in a drier
climate. But that Sequoia can and does grow on as dry ground as any of
its present rivals, is manifest in a thousand places. "Why, then," it
will be asked, "are Sequoias always found in greatest abundance in
well-watered places where streams are exceptionally abundant?" Simply
because a growth of Sequoias creates those streams. The thirsty
mountaineer knows well that in every Sequoia grove he will find running
water, but it is a mistake to suppose that the water is the cause of the
grove being there; on the contrary, the grove is the cause of the water
being there. Drain off the water and the trees will remain, but cut off
the trees, and the streams will vanish. Never was cause more completely
mistaken for effect than in the case of these related phenomena of
Sequoia woods and perennial streams, and I confess that at first I
shared in the blunder.
When attention is called to the method of Sequoia stream-making, it will
be apprehended at once. The roots of this immense tree fill the ground,
forming a thick sponge that absorbs and holds back the rains and melting
snows, only allowing them to ooze and flow gently. Indeed, every fallen
leaf and rootlet, as well as long clasping root, and prostrate trunk,
may be regarded as a dam hoarding the bounty of storm-clouds, and
dispensing it as blessings all through the summer, instead of allowing
it to go headlong in short-lived floods. Evaporation is also checked by
the dense foliage to a greater extent than by any other Sierra tree, and
the air is entangled in masses and broad sheets that are quickly
saturated; while thirsty winds are not allowed to go sponging and
licking along the ground.
So great is the retention of water in many places in the main belt, that
bogs and meadows are created by the killing of the trees. A single trunk
falling across a stream in the woods forms a dam 200 feet long, and from
ten to thirty feet high, giving rise to a pond which kills the trees
within its reach. These dead trees fall in turn, thus making a clearing,
while sediments gradually accumulate changing the pond into a bog, or
meadow, for a growth of carices and sphagnum. In some instances a series
of small bogs or meadows rise above one another on a hillside, which are
gradually merged into one another, forming sloping bogs, or meadows,
which make striking features of Sequoia woods, and since all the trees
that have fallen into them have been preserved, they contain records of
the generations that have passed since they began to form.
Since, then, it is a fact that thousands of Sequoias are growing
thriftily on what is termed dry ground, and even clinging like mountain
pines to rifts in granite precipices; and since it has also been shown
that the extra moisture found in connection with the denser growths is
an effect of their presence, instead of a cause of their presence, then
the notions as to the former extension of the species and its near
approach to extinction, based upon its supposed dependence on greater
moisture, are seen to be erroneous.
The decrease in the rain- and snow-fall since the close of the glacial
period in the Sierra is much less than is commonly guessed. The highest
post-glacial watermarks are well preserved in all the upper river
channels, and they are not greatly higher than the spring floodmarks of
the present; showing conclusively that no extraordinary decrease has
taken place in the volume of the upper tributaries of post-glacial
Sierra streams since they came into existence. But in the mean time,
eliminating all this complicated question of climatic change, the plain
fact remains that _the present rain- and snow-fall is abundantly
sufficient for the luxuriant growth of Sequoia forests_. Indeed, all
my observations tend to show that in a prolonged drought the Sugar Pines
and firs would perish before the Sequoia, not alone because of the
greater longevity of individual trees, but because the species can
endure more drought, and make the most of whatever moisture falls.
Again, if the restriction and irregular distribution of the species be
interpreted as a result of the desiccation of the range, then instead of
increasing as it does in individuals toward the south where the rainfall
is less, it should diminish.
If, then, the peculiar distribution of Sequoia has not been governed by
superior conditions of soil as to fertility or moisture, by what has it
been governed?
In the course of my studies I observed that the northern groves, the
only ones I was at first acquainted with, were located on just those
portions of the general forest soil-belt that were first laid bare
toward the close of the glacial period when the ice-sheet began to break
up into individual glaciers. And while searching the wide basin of the
San Joaquin, and trying to account for the absence of Sequoia where
every condition seemed favorable for its growth, it occured to me that
this remarkable gap in the Sequoia belt is located exactly in the basin
of the vast ancient _mer de glace_ of the San Joaquin and King's
River basins, which poured its frozen floods to the plain, fed by the
snows that fell on more than fifty miles of the summit. I then perceived
that the next great gap in the belt to the northward, forty miles wide,
extending between the Calaveras and Tuolumne groves, occurs in the basin
of the great ancient _mer de glace_ of the Tuolumne and Stanislaus
basins, and that the smaller gap between the Merced and Mariposa groves
occurs in the basin of the smaller glacier of the Merced. _The wider
the ancient glacier, the wider the corresponding gap in the Sequoia
Finally, pursuing my investigations across the basins of the Kaweah and
Tule, I discovered that the Sequoia belt attained its greatest
development just where, owing to the topographical peculiarities of the
region, the ground had been most perfectly protected from the main
ice-rivers that continued to pour past from the summit fountains long
after the smaller local glaciers had been melted.
Taking now a general view of the belt, beginning at the south, we see
that the majestic ancient glaciers were shed off right and left down the
valleys of Kern and King's rivers by the lofty protective spurs
outspread embracingly above the warm Sequoia-filled basins of the Kaweah
and Tule. Then, next northward, occurs the wide Sequoia-less channel, or
basin, of the ancient San Joaquin and King's River _mer de glace_;
then the warm, protected spots of Fresno and Mariposa groves; then the
Sequoia-less channel of the ancient Merced glacier; next the warm,
sheltered ground of the Merced and Tuolumne groves; then the
Sequoia-less channel of the grand ancient _mer de glace_ of the
Tuolumne and Stanislaus; then the warm old ground of the Calaveras and
Stanislaus groves. It appears, therefore, that just where, at a certain
period in the history of the Sierra, the glaciers were not, there the
Sequoia is, and just where the glaciers were, there the Sequoia is not.
What the other conditions may have been that enabled Sequoia to
establish itself upon these oldest and warmest portions of the main
glacial soil-belt, I cannot say. I might venture to state, however, in
this connection, that since the Sequoia forests present a more and more
ancient aspect as they extend southward, I am inclined to think that the
species was distributed from the south, while the Sugar Pine, its great
rival in the northern groves, seems to have come around the head of the
Sacramento valley and down the Sierra from the north; consequently, when
the Sierra soil-beds were first thrown open to preemption on the melting
of the ice-sheet, the Sequoia may have established itself along the
available portions of the south half of the range prior to the arrival
of the Sugar Pine, while the Sugar Pine took possession of the north
half prior to the arrival of Sequoia.
But however much uncertainty may attach to this branch of the question,
there are no obscuring shadows upon the grand general relationship we
have pointed out between the present distribution of Sequoia and the
ancient glaciers of the Sierra. And when we bear in mind that all the
present forests of the Sierra are young, growing on moraine soil
recently deposited, and that the flank of the range itself, with all its
landscapes, is new-born, recently sculptured, and brought to the light
of day from beneath the ice mantle of the glacial winter, then a
thousand lawless mysteries disappear, and broad harmonies take their
But although all the observed phenomena bearing on the post-glacial
history of this colossal tree point to the conclusion that it never was
more widely distributed on the Sierra since the close of the glacial
epoch; that its present forests are scarcely past prime, if, indeed,
they have reached prime; that the post-glacial day of the species is
probably not half done; yet, when from a wider outlook the vast
antiquity of the genus is considered, and its ancient richness in
species and individuals; comparing our Sierra Giant and _Sequoia
sempervirens_ of the Coast Range, the only other living species of
Sequoia, with the twelve fossil species already discovered and described
by Heer and Lesquereux, some of which seem to have flourished over vast
areas in the Arctic regions and in Europe and our own territories,
during tertiary and cretaceous times,--then indeed it becomes plain that
our two surviving species, restricted to narrow belts within the limits
of California, are mere remnants of the genus, both as to species and
individuals, and that they probably are verging to extinction. But the
verge of a period beginning in cretaceous times may have a breadth of
tens of thousands of years, not to mention the possible existence of
conditions calculated to multiply and reextend both species and
individuals. This, however, is a branch of the question into which I do
not now purpose to enter.
In studying the fate of our forest king, we have thus far considered the
action of purely natural causes only; but, unfortunately, _man_ is
in the woods, and waste and pure destruction are making rapid headway.
If the importance of forests were at all understood, even from an
economic standpoint, their preservation would call forth the most
watchful attention of government. Only of late years by means of forest
reservations has the simplest groundwork for available legislation been
laid, while in many of the finest groves every species of destruction is
still moving on with accelerated speed.
In the course of my explorations I found no fewer than five mills
located on or near the lower edge of the Sequoia belt, all of which were
cutting considerable quantities of Big Tree lumber. Most of the Fresno
group are doomed to feed the mills recently erected near them, and a
company of lumbermen are now cutting the magnificent forest on King's
River. In these milling operations waste far exceeds use, for after the
choice young manageable trees on any given spot have been felled, the
woods are fired to clear the ground of limbs and refuse with reference
to further operations, and, of course, most of the seedlings and
saplings are destroyed.
These mill ravages, however, are small as compared with the
comprehensive destruction caused by "sheepmen." Incredible numbers of
sheep are driven to the mountain pastures every summer, and their course
is ever marked by desolation. Every wild garden is trodden down, the
shrubs are stripped of leaves as if devoured by locusts, and the woods
are burned. Running fires are set everywhere, with a view to clearing
the ground of prostrate trunks, to facilitate the movements of the
flocks and improve the pastures. The entire forest belt is thus swept
and devastated from one extremity of the range to the other, and, with
the exception of the resinous _Pinus contorta_, Sequoia suffers
most of all. Indians burn off the underbrush in certain localities to
facilitate deer-hunting, mountaineers and lumbermen carelessly allow
their camp-fires to run; but the fires of the sheepmen, or
_muttoneers_, form more than ninety per cent. of all destructive
fires that range the Sierra forests.
It appears, therefore, that notwithstanding our forest king might live
on gloriously in Nature's keeping, it is rapidly vanishing before the
fire and steel of man; and unless protective measures be speedily
invented and applied, in a few decades, at the farthest, all that will be
left of _Sequoia gigantea_ will be a few hacked and scarred
TWO-LEAVED, OR TAMARACK, PINE
(_Pinus contorta_, var._Marrayana_)
This species forms the bulk of the alpine forests, extending along the
range, above the fir zone, up to a height of from 8000 to 9500 feet
above the sea, growing in beautiful order upon moraines that are
scarcely changed as yet by post-glacial weathering. Compared with the
giants of the lower zones, this is a small tree, seldom attaining a
height of a hundred feet. The largest specimen I ever measured was
ninety feet in height, and a little over six in diameter four feet from
the ground. The average height of mature trees throughout the entire
belt is probably not far from fifty or sixty feet, with a diameter of
two feet. It is a well-proportioned, rather handsome little pine, with
grayish-brown bark, and crooked, much-divided branches, which cover the
greater portion of the trunk, not so densely, however, as to prevent its
being seen. The lower limbs curve downward, gradually take a horizontal
position about half-way up the trunk, then aspire more and more toward
the summit, thus forming a sharp, conical top. The foliage is short and
rigid, two leaves in a fascicle, arranged in comparatively long,
cylindrical tassels at the ends of the tough, up-curving branchlets. The
cones are about two inches long, growing in stiff clusters among the
needles, without making any striking effect, except while very young,
when they are of a vivid crimson color, and the whole tree appears to be
dotted with brilliant flowers. The sterile cones are still more showy,
on account of their great abundance, often giving a reddish-yellow tinge
to the whole mass of the foliage, and filling the air with pollen.
No other pine on the range is so regularly planted as this one. Moraine
forests sweep along the sides of the high, rocky valleys for miles
without interruption; still, strictly speaking, they are not dense, for
flecks of sunshine and flowers find their way into the darkest places,
where the trees grow tallest and thickest. Tall, nutritious grasses are
specially abundant beneath them, growing over all the ground, in
sunshine and shade, over extensive areas like a farmer's crop, and
serving as pasture for the multitude of sheep that are driven from the
arid plains every summer as soon as the snow is melted.
The Two-leaved Pine, more than any other, is subject to destruction by
fire. The thin bark is streaked and sprinkled with resin, as though it
had been showered down upon it like rain, so that even the green trees
catch fire readily, and during strong winds whole forests are destroyed,
the flames leaping from tree to tree, forming one continuous belt of
roaring fire that goes surging and racing onward above the bending
woods, like the grass-fires of a prairie. During the calm, dry season of
Indian summer, the fire creeps quietly along the ground, feeding on the
dry needles and burs; then, arriving at the foot of a tree, the resiny
bark is ignited, and the heated air ascends in a powerful current,
increasing in velocity, and dragging the flames swiftly upward; then the
leaves catch fire, and an immense column of flame, beautifully spired on
the edges, and tinted a rose-purple hue, rushes aloft thirty or forty
feet above the top of the tree, forming a grand spectacle, especially on
a dark night. It lasts, however, only a few seconds, vanishing with
magical rapidity, to be succeeded by others along the fire-line at
irregular intervals for weeks at a time--tree after tree flashing and
darkening, leaving the trunks and branches hardly scarred. The heat,
however, is sufficient to kill the trees, and in a few years the bark
shrivels and falls off. Belts miles in extent are thus killed and left
standing with the branches on, peeled and rigid, appearing gray in the
distance, like misty clouds. Later the branches drop off, leaving a
forest of bleached spars. At length the roots decay, and the forlorn
trunks are blown down during some storm, and piled one upon another
encumbering the ground until they are consumed by the next fire, and
leave it ready for a fresh crop.
The endurance of the species is shown by its wandering occasionally out
over the lava plains with the Yellow Pine, and climbing moraineless
mountain-sides with the Dwarf Pine, clinging to any chance support in
rifts and crevices of storm-beaten rocks--always, however, showing the
effects of such hardships in every feature.
Down in sheltered lake hollows, on beds of rich alluvium, it varies so
far from the common form as frequently to be taken for a distinct
species. Here it grows in dense sods, like grasses, from forty to eighty
feet high, bending all together to the breeze and whirling in eddying
gusts more lithely than any other tree in the woods. I have frequently
found specimens fifty feet high less than five inches in diameter. Being
thus slender, and at the same time well clad with leafy boughs, it is
oftentimes bent to the ground when laden with soft snow, forming
beautiful arches in endless variety, some of which last until the
melting of the snow in spring.
MOUNTAIN PINE
(_Pinus monticola_)
The Mountain Pine is king of the alpine woods, brave, hardy, and
long-lived, towering grandly above its companions, and becoming stronger
and more imposing just where other species begin to crouch and
disappear. At its best it is usually about ninety feet high and five or
six in diameter, though a specimen is often met considerably larger than
this. The trunk is as massive and as suggestive of enduring strength as
that of an oak. About two thirds of the trunk is commonly free of limbs,
but close, fringy tufts of sprays occur all the way down, like those
which adorn the colossal shafts of Sequoia. The bark is deep
reddish-brown upon trees that occupy exposed situations near its upper
limit, and furrowed rather deeply, the main furrows running nearly
parallel with each other, and connected by conspicuous cross furrows,
which, with one exception, are, as far as I have noticed, peculiar to
this species.
The cones are from four to eight inches long, slender, cylindrical, and
somewhat curved, resembling those of the common White Pine of the
Atlantic coast. They grow in clusters of about from three to six or
seven, becoming pendulous as they increase in weight, chiefly by the
bending of the branches.
This species is nearly related to the Sugar Pine, and, though not half
so tall, it constantly suggests its noble relative in the way that it
extends its long arms and in general habit. The Mountain Pine is first
met on the upper margin of the fir zone, growing singly in a subdued,
inconspicuous form, in what appear as chance situations, without making
much impression on the general forest. Continuing up through the
Two-leaved Pines in the same scattered growth, it begins to show its
character, and at an elevation of about 10,000 feet attains its noblest
development near the middle of the range, tossing its tough arms in the
frosty air, welcoming storms and feeding on them, and reaching the grand
old age of 1000 years.
JUNIPER, OR RED CEDAR
(_Juniperus occidentalis_)
The Juniper is preeminently a rock tree, occupying the baldest domes and
pavements, where there is scarcely a handful of soil, at a height of
from 7000 to 9500 feet. In such situations the trunk is frequently over
eight feet in diameter, and not much more in height. The top is almost
always dead in old trees, and great stubborn limbs push out horizontally
that are mostly broken and bare at the ends, but densely covered and
embedded here and there with bossy mounds of gray foliage. Some are mere
weathered stumps, as broad as long, decorated with a few leafy sprays,
reminding one of the crumbling towers of some ancient castle
scantily draped with ivy. Only upon the head waters of the Carson have I
found this species established on good moraine soil. Here it flourishes
with the Silver and Two-leaved Pines, in great beauty and luxuriance,
attaining a height of from forty to sixty feet, and manifesting but
little of that rocky angularity so characteristic a feature throughout
the greater portion, of its range. Two of the largest, growing at the
head of Hope Valley, measured twenty-nine feet three inches and
twenty-five feet six inches in circumference, respectively, four feet
from the ground. The bark is of a bright cinnamon color, and, in thrifty
trees, beautifully braided and reticulated, flaking off in thin,
lustrous ribbons that are sometimes used by Indians for tent-matting.
Its fine color and odd picturesqueness always catch an artist's eye, but
to me the Juniper seems a singularly dull and taciturn tree, never
speaking to one's heart. I have spent many a day and night in its
company, in all kinds of weather, and have ever found it silent, cold,
and rigid, like a column of ice. Its broad stumpiness, of course,
precludes all possibility of waving, or even shaking; but it is not this
rocky steadfastness that constitutes its silence. In calm, sun-days the
Sugar Pine preaches the grandeur of the mountains like an apostle
without moving a leaf.
[Illustration: JUNIPER, OR RED CEDAR.]
On level rocks it dies standing, and wastes insensibly out of existence
like granite, the wind exerting about as little control over it alive or
dead as it does over a glacier boulder. Some are undoubtedly over 2000
years old. All the trees of the alpine woods suffer, more or less, from
avalanches, the Two-leaved Pine most of all. Gaps two or three hundred
yards wide, extending from the upper limit of the tree-line to the
bottoms of valleys and lake basins, are of common occurrence in all the
upper forests, resembling the clearings of settlers in the old
backwoods. Scarcely a tree is spared, even the soil is scraped away,
while the thousands of uprooted pines and spruces are piled upon one
another heads downward, and tucked snugly in along the sides of the
clearing in two windrows, like lateral moraines. The pines lie with
branches wilted and drooping like weeds. Not so the burly junipers.
After braving in silence the storms of perhaps a dozen or twenty
centuries, they seem in this, their last calamity, to become somewhat
communicative, making sign of a very unwilling acceptance of their fate,
holding themselves well up from the ground on knees and elbows,
seemingly ill at ease, and anxious, like stubborn wrestlers, to rise
HEMLOCK SPRUCE
(_Tsuga Pattoniana_)
The Hemlock Spruce is the most singularly beautiful of all the
California coniferae. So slender is its axis at the top, that it bends
over and droops like the stalk of a nodding lily. The branches droop
also, and divide into innumerable slender, waving sprays, which are
arranged in a varied, eloquent harmony that is wholly indescribable. Its
cones are purple, and hang free, in the form of little tassels two
inches long from all the sprays from top to bottom. Though exquisitely
delicate and feminine in expression, it grows best where the snow lies
deepest, far up in the region of storms, at an elevation of from 9000 to
9500 feet, on frosty northern slopes; but it is capable of growing
considerably higher, say 10,500 feet. The tallest specimens, growing in
sheltered hollows somewhat beneath the heaviest wind-currents, are from
eighty to a hundred feet high, and from two to four feet in diameter.
The very largest specimen I ever found was nineteen feet seven inches in
circumference four feet from the ground, growing on the edge of Lake
Hollow, at an elevation of 9250 feet above the level of the sea. At the
age of twenty or thirty years it becomes fruitful, and hangs out its
beautiful purple cones at the ends of the slender sprays, where they
swing free in the breeze, and contrast delightfully with the cool green
foliage. They are translucent when young, and their beauty is delicious.
After they are fully ripe, they spread their shell-like scales and allow
the brown-winged seeds to fly in the mellow air, while the empty cones
remain to beautify the tree until the coming of a fresh crop.
[Illustration: STORM-BEATEN HEMLOCK SPRUCE, FORTY FEET HIGH.]
The staminate cones of all the coniferae are beautiful, growing in
bright clusters, yellow, and rose, and crimson. Those of the Hemlock
Spruce are the most beautiful of all, forming little conelets of blue
flowers, each on a slender stem.
Under all conditions, sheltered or storm-beaten, well-fed or ill-fed,
this tree is singularly graceful in habit. Even at its highest limit
upon exposed ridge-tops, though compelled to crouch in dense thickets,
huddled close together, as if for mutual protection, it still manages to
throw out its sprays in irrepressible loveliness; while on well-ground
moraine soil it develops a perfectly tropical luxuriance of foliage and
fruit, and is the very loveliest tree in the forest; poised in thin
white sunshine, clad with branches from head to foot, yet not in the
faintest degree heavy or bunchy, it towers in unassuming majesty,
drooping as if unaffected with the aspiring tendencies of its race,
loving the ground while transparently conscious of heaven and joyously
receptive of its blessings, reaching out its branches like sensitive
tentacles, feeling the light and reveling in it. No other of our alpine
conifers so finely veils its strength. Its delicate branches yield to
the mountains' gentlest breath; yet is it strong to meet the wildest
onsets of the gale,--strong not in resistance, but compliance, bowing,
snow-laden, to the ground, gracefully accepting burial month after month
in the darkness beneath the heavy mantle of winter.
When the first soft snow begins to fall, the flakes lodge in the leaves,
weighing down the branches against the trunk. Then the axis bends yet
lower and lower, until the slender top touches the ground, thus forming
a fine ornamental arch. The snow still falls lavishly, and the whole
tree is at length buried, to sleep and rest in its beautiful grave as
though dead. Entire groves of young trees, from ten to forty feet high,
are thus buried every winter like slender grasses. But, like the violets
and daisies which the heaviest snows crush not, they are safe. It is as
though this were only Nature's method of putting her darlings to sleep
instead of leaving them exposed to the biting storms of winter.
Thus warmly wrapped they await the summer resurrection. The snow becomes
soft in the sunshine, and freezes at night, making the mass hard and
compact, like ice, so that during the months of April and May you can
ride a horse over the prostrate groves without catching sight of a
single leaf. At length the down-pouring sunshine sets them free. First
the elastic tops of the arches begin to appear, then one branch after
another, each springing loose with a gentle rustling sound, and at
length the whole tree, with the assistance of the winds, gradually
unbends and rises and settles back into its place in the warm air, as
dry and feathery and fresh as young ferns just out of the coil.
Some of the finest groves I have yet found are on the southern slopes of
Lassen's Butte. There are also many charming companies on the head
waters of the Tuolumne, Merced, and San Joaquin, and, in general, the
species is so far from being rare that you can scarcely fail to find
groves of considerable extent in crossing the range, choose what pass
you may. The Mountain Pine grows beside it, and more frequently the
two-leaved species; but there are many beautiful groups, numbering 1000
individuals, or more, without a single intruder.
I wish I had space to write more of the surpassing beauty of this
favorite spruce. Every tree-lover is sure to regard it with special
admiration; apathetic mountaineers, even, seeking only game or gold,
stop to gaze on first meeting it, and mutter to themselves: "That's a
mighty pretty tree," some of them adding, "d----d pretty!" In autumn,
when its cones are ripe, the little striped tamias, and the Douglas
squirrel, and the Clark crow make a happy stir in its groves. The deer
love to lie down beneath its spreading branches; bright streams from the
snow that is always near ripple through its groves, and bryanthus
spreads precious carpets in its shade. But the best words only hint its
charms. Come to the mountains and see.
(_Pinus albicaulis_)
This species forms the extreme edge of the timber line throughout nearly
the whole extent of the range on both flanks. It is first met growing in
company with _Pinus contorta_, var. _Murrayana_, on the upper margin of
the belt, as an erect tree from fifteen to thirty feet high and from one
to two feet in thickness; thence it goes straggling up the flanks of the
summit peaks, upon moraines or crumbling ledges, wherever it can obtain
a foothold, to an elevation of from 10,000 to 12,000 feet, where it
dwarfs to a mass of crumpled, prostrate branches, covered with slender,
upright shoots, each tipped with a short, close-packed tassel of leaves.
The bark is smooth and purplish, in some places almost white. The
fertile cones grow in rigid clusters upon the upper branches, dark
chocolate in color while young, and bear beautiful pearly seeds about
the size of peas, most of which are eaten by two species of tamias and
the notable Clark crow. The staminate cones occur in clusters, about an
inch wide, down among the leaves, and, as they are colored bright
rose-purple, they give rise to a lively, flowery appearance little
looked for in such a tree.
[Illustration: GROUP OF ERECT DWARF PINES.]
Pines are commonly regarded as sky-loving trees that must necessarily
aspire or die. This species forms a marked exception, creeping lowly, in
compliance with the most rigorous demands of climate, yet enduring
bravely to a more advanced age than many of its lofty relatives in the
sun-lands below. Seen from a distance, it would never be taken for a
tree of any kind. Yonder, for example, is Cathedral Peak, some three
miles away, with a scattered growth of this pine creeping like mosses
over the roof and around the beveled edges of the north gable, nowhere
giving any hint of an ascending axis. When approached quite near it
still appears matted and heathy, and is so low that one experiences no
great difficulty in walking over the top of it. Yet it is seldom
absolutely prostrate, at its lowest usually attaining a height of three
or four feet, with a main trunk, and branches outspread and intertangled
above it, as if in ascending they had been checked by a ceiling, against
which they had grown and been compelled to spread horizontally. The
winter snow is indeed such a ceiling, lasting half the year; while the
pressed, shorn surface is made yet smoother by violent winds, armed with
cutting sand-grains, that beat down any shoot that offers to rise much
above the general level, and carve the dead trunks and branches in
beautiful patterns.
During stormy nights I have often camped snugly beneath the interlacing
arches of this little pine. The needles, which have accumulated for
centuries, make fine beds, a fact well known to other mountaineers, such
as deer and wild sheep, who paw out oval hollows and lie beneath the
larger trees in safe and comfortable concealment.
[Illustration: A DWARF PINE.]
The longevity of this lowly dwarf is far greater than would be guessed.
Here, for example, is a specimen, growing at an elevation of 10,700
feet, which seems as though it might be plucked up by the roots, for it
is only three and a half inches in diameter, and its topmost tassel is
hardly three feet above the ground. Cutting it half through and counting
the annual rings with the aid of a lens, we find its age to be no less
than 255 years. Here is another telling specimen about the same height,
426 years old, whose trunk is only six inches in diameter; and one of
its supple branchlets, hardly an eighth of an inch in diameter inside
the bark, is seventy-five years old, and so filled with oily balsam, and
so well seasoned by storms, that we may tie it in knots like a
(_Pinus flexilis_)
This species is widely distributed throughout the Rocky Mountains, and
over all the higher of the many ranges of the Great Basin, between the
Wahsatch Mountains and the Sierra, where it is known as White Pine. In
the Sierra it is sparsely scattered along the eastern flank, from Bloody
Canon southward nearly to the extremity of the range, opposite the
village of Lone Pine, nowhere forming any appreciable portion of the
general forest. From its peculiar position, in loose, straggling
parties, it seems to have been derived from the Basin ranges to the
eastward, where it is abundant.
It is a larger tree than the Dwarf Pine. At an elevation of about 9000
feet above the sea, it often attains a height of forty or fifty feet,
and a diameter of from three to five feet. The cones open freely when
ripe, and are twice as large as those of the _albicaulis_, and the
foliage and branches are more open, having a tendency to sweep out in
free, wild curves, like those of the Mountain Pine, to which it is
closely allied. It is seldom found lower than 9000 feet above sea-level,
but from this elevation it pushes upward over the roughest ledges to the
extreme limit of tree-growth, where, in its dwarfed, storm-crushed
condition, it is more like the white-barked species.
Throughout Utah and Nevada it is one of the principal timber-trees,
great quantities being cut every year for the mines. The famous White
Pine Mining District, White Pine City, and the White Pine Mountains have
derived their names from it.
(_Pinus aristata_)
This species is restricted in the Sierra to the southern portion of the
range, about the head waters of Kings and Kern rivers, where it forms
extensive forests, and in some places accompanies the Dwarf Pine to the
extreme limit of tree-growth.
It is first met at an elevation of between 9000 and 10,000 feet, and
runs up to 11,000 without seeming to suffer greatly from the climate or
the leanness of the soil. It is a much finer tree than the Dwarf Pine.
Instead of growing in clumps and low, heathy mats, it manages in some
way to maintain an erect position, and usually stands single. Wherever
the young trees are at all sheltered, they grow up straight and arrowy,
with delicately tapered bole, and ascending branches terminated with
glossy, bottle-brush tassels. At middle age, certain limbs are
specialized and pushed far out for the bearing of cones, after the
manner of the Sugar Pine; and in old age these branches droop and cast
about in every direction, giving rise to very picturesque effects. The
trunk becomes deep brown and rough, like that of the Mountain Pine,
while the young cones are of a strange, dull, blackish-blue color,
clustered on the upper branches. When ripe they are from three to four
inches long, yellowish brown, resembling in every way those of the
Mountain Pine. Excepting the Sugar Pine, no tree on the mountains is so
capable of individual expression, while in grace of form and movement it
constantly reminds one of the Hemlock Spruce.
[Illustration: OAK GROWING AMONG YELLOW PINES.]
The largest specimen I measured was a little over five feet in diameter
and ninety feet in height, but this is more than twice the ordinary
This species is common throughout the Rocky Mountains and most of the
short ranges of the Great Basin, where it is called the Fox-tail Pine,
from its long dense leaf-tassels. On the Hot Creek, White Pine, and
Golden Gate ranges it is quite abundant. About a foot or eighteen inches
of the ends of the branches is densely packed with stiff outstanding
needles which radiate like an electric fox or squirrel's tail. The
needles have a glossy polish, and the sunshine sifting through them
makes them burn with silvery luster, while their number and elastic
temper tell delightfully in the winds. This tree is here still more
original and picturesque than in the Sierra, far surpassing not only its
companion conifers in this respect, but also the most noted of the
lowland oaks. Some stand firmly erect, feathered with radiant tassels
down to the ground, forming slender tapering towers of shining verdure;
others, with two or three specialized branches pushed out at right
angles to the trunk and densely clad with tasseled sprays, take the form
of beautiful ornamental crosses. Again in the same woods you find trees
that are made up of several boles united near the ground, spreading at
the sides in a plane parallel to the axis of the mountain, with the
elegant tassels hung in charming order between them, making a harp held
against the main wind lines where they are most effective in playing the
grand storm harmonies. And besides these there are many variable arching
forms, alone or in groups, with innumerable tassels drooping beneath the
arches or radiant above them, and many lowly giants of no particular
form that have braved the storms of a thousand years. But whether old or
young, sheltered or exposed to the wildest gales, this tree is ever
found irrepressibly and extravagantly picturesque, and offers a richer
and more varied series of forms to the artist than any other conifer I
(_Pinus monophylla_)
The Nut Pine covers or rather dots the eastern flank of the Sierra, to
which it is mostly restricted, in grayish, bush-like patches, from the
margin of the sage-plains to an elevation of from 7000 to 8000 feet.
A more contentedly fruitful and unaspiring conifer could not be
conceived. All the species we have been sketching make departures more
or less distant from the typical spire form, but none goes so far as
this. Without any apparent exigency of climate or soil, it remains near
the ground, throwing out crooked, divergent branches like an orchard
apple-tree, and seldom pushes a single shoot higher than fifteen or
twenty feet above the ground.
The average thickness of the trunk is, perhaps, about ten or twelve
inches. The leaves are mostly undivided, like round awls, instead of
being separated, like those of other pines, into twos and threes and
fives. The cones are green while growing, and are usually found over all
the tree, forming quite a marked feature as seen against the bluish-gray
foliage. They are quite small, only about two inches in length, and give
no promise of edible nuts; but when we come to open them, we find that
about half the entire bulk of the cone is made up of sweet, nutritious
seeds, the kernels of which are nearly as large as those of hazel-nuts.
This is undoubtedly the most important food-tree on the Sierra, and
furnishes the Mono, Carson, and Walker River Indians with more and
better nuts than all the other species taken together. It is the
Indians' own tree, and many a white man have they killed for cutting it
In its development Nature seems to have aimed at the formation of as
great a fruit-bearing surface as possible. Being so low and accessible,
the cones are readily beaten off with poles, and the nuts procured by
roasting them until the scales open. In bountiful seasons a single
Indian will gather thirty or forty bushels of them--a fine squirrelish
Of all the conifers along the eastern base of the Sierra, and on all the
many mountain groups and short ranges of the Great Basin, this foodful
little pine is the commonest tree, and the most important. Nearly every
mountain is planted with it to a height of from 8000 to 9000 feet above
the sea. Some are covered from base to summit by this one species, with
only a sparse growth of juniper on the lower slopes to break the
continuity of its curious woods, which, though dark-looking at a
distance, are almost shadeless, and have none of the damp, leafy glens
and hollows so characteristic of other pine woods. Tens of thousands of
acres occur in continuous belts. Indeed, viewed comprehensively the
entire Basin seems to be pretty evenly divided into level plains dotted
with sage-bushes and mountain-chains covered with Nut Pines. No slope is
too rough, none too dry, for these bountiful orchards of the red man.
The value of this species to Nevada is not easily overestimated. It
furnishes charcoal and timber for the mines, and, with the juniper,
supplies the ranches with fuel and rough fencing. In fruitful seasons
the nut crop is perhaps greater than the California wheat crop, which
exerts so much influence throughout the food markets of the world. When,
the crop is ripe, the Indians make ready the long beating-poles; bags,
baskets, mats, and sacks are collected; the women out at service among
the settlers, washing or drudging, assemble at the family huts; the men
leave their ranch work; old and young, all are mounted on ponies and
start in great glee to the nut-lands, forming curiously picturesque
cavalcades; flaming scarfs and calico skirts stream loosely over the
knotty ponies, two squaws usually astride of each, with baby midgets
bandaged in baskets slung on their backs or balanced on the saddle-bow;
while nut-baskets and water-jars project from each side, and the long
beating-poles make angles in every direction. Arriving at some
well-known central point where grass and water are found, the squaws
with baskets, the men with poles ascend the ridges to the laden trees,
followed by the children. Then the beating begins right merrily, the
burs fly in every direction, rolling down the slopes, lodging here and
there against rocks and sage-bushes, chased and gathered by the women
and children with fine natural gladness. Smoke-columns speedily mark the
joyful scene of their labors as the roasting-fires are kindled, and, at
night, assembled in gay circles garrulous as jays, they begin the first
nut feast of the season.
The nuts are about half an inch long and a quarter of an inch in
diameter, pointed at the top, round at the base, light brown in general
color, and, like many other pine seeds, handsomely dotted with purple,
like birds' eggs. The shells are thin and may be crushed between the
thumb and finger. The kernels are white, becoming brown by roasting, and
are sweet to every palate, being eaten by birds, squirrels, dogs,
horses, and men. Perhaps less than one bushel in a thousand of the whole
crop is ever gathered. Still, besides supplying their own wants, in
times of plenty the Indians bring large quantities to market; then they
are eaten around nearly every fireside in the State, and are even fed to
horses occasionally instead of barley.
Of other trees growing on the Sierra, but forming a very small part of
the general forest, we may briefly notice the following:
_Chamoecyparis Lawsoniana_ is a magnificent tree in the coast
ranges, but small in the Sierra. It is found only well to the northward
along the banks of cool streams on the upper Sacramento toward Mount
Shasta. Only a few trees of this species, as far as I have seen, have as
yet gained a place in the Sierra woods. It has evidently been derived
from the coast range by way of the tangle of connecting mountains at the
head of the Sacramento Valley.
In shady dells and on cool stream banks of the northern Sierra we also
find the Yew (_Taxus brevifolia_).
The interesting Nutmeg Tree (_Torreya Californica_) is sparsely
distributed along the western flank of the range at an elevation of
about 4000 feet, mostly in gulches and canons. It is a small, prickly
leaved, glossy evergreen, like a conifer, from twenty to fifty feet
high, and one to two feet in diameter. The fruit resembles a green-gage
plum, and contains one seed, about the size of an acorn, and like a
nutmeg, hence the common name. The wood is fine-grained and of a
beautiful, creamy yellow color like box, sweet-scented when dry, though
the green leaves emit a disagreeable odor.
_Betula occidentalis_, the only birch, is a small, slender tree
restricted to the eastern flank of the range along stream-sides below
the pine-belt, especially in Owen's Valley.
Alder, Maple, and Nuttall's Flowering Dogwood make beautiful bowers over
swift, cool streams at an elevation of from 3000 to 5000 feet, mixed
more or less with willows and cottonwood; and above these in lake basins
the aspen forms fine ornamental groves, and lets its light shine
gloriously in the autumn months.
The Chestnut Oak (_Quercus densiflora_) seems to have come from the
coast range around the head of the Sacramento Valley, like the
_Chamaecyparis_, but as it extends southward along the lower edge
of the main pine-belt it grows smaller until it finally dwarfs to a mere
chaparral bush. In the coast mountains it is a fine, tall, rather
slender tree, about from sixty to seventy-five feet high, growing with
the grand _Sequoia sempervirens_, or Redwood. But unfortunately it
is too good to live, and is now being rapidly destroyed for tan-bark.
Besides the common Douglas Oak and the grand _Quercus Wislizeni_ of
the foot-hills, and several small ones that make dense growths of
chaparral, there are two mountain-oaks that grow with the pines up to an
elevation of about 5000 feet above the sea, and greatly enhance the
beauty of the yosemite parks. These are the Mountain Live Oak and the
Kellogg Oak, named in honor of the admirable botanical pioneer of
California. Kellogg's Oak (_Quercus Kelloggii_) is a firm, bright,
beautiful tree, reaching a height of sixty feet, four to seven feet in
diameter, with wide-spreading branches, and growing at an elevation of
from 3000 to 5000 feet in sunny valleys and flats among the evergreens,
and higher in a dwarfed state. In the cliff-bound parks about 4000 feet
above the sea it is so abundant and effective it might fairly be called
the Yosemite Oak. The leaves make beautiful masses of purple in the
spring, and yellow in ripe autumn; while its acorns are eagerly gathered
by Indians, squirrels, and woodpeckers. The Mountain Live Oak (_Q.
Chrysolepis_) is a tough, rugged mountaineer of a tree, growing
bravely and attaining noble dimensions on the roughest earthquake
taluses in deep canons and yosemite valleys. The trunk is usually short,
dividing near the ground into great, wide-spreading limbs, and these
again into a multitude of slender sprays, many of them cord-like and
drooping to the ground, like those of the Great White Oak of the
lowlands (_Q. lobata_). The top of the tree where there is plenty
of space is broad and bossy, with a dense covering of shining leaves,
making delightful canopies, the complicated system of gray, interlacing,
arching branches as seen from beneath being exceedingly rich and
picturesque. No other tree that I know dwarfs so regularly and
completely as this under changes of climate due to changes in elevation.
At the foot of a canon 4000 feet above the sea you may find magnificent
specimens of this oak fifty feet high, with craggy, bulging trunks, five
to seven feet in diameter, and at the head of the canon, 2500 feet
higher, a dense, soft, low, shrubby growth of the same species, while
all the way up the canon between these extremes of size and habit a
perfect gradation may be traced. The largest I have seen was fifty feet
high, eight feet in diameter, and about seventy-five feet in spread. The
trunk was all knots and buttresses, gray like granite, and about as
angular and irregular as the boulders on which it was growing--a type of
steadfast, unwedgeable strength.
THE DOUGLAS SQUIRREL
(_Sciurus Douglasii_)
The Douglas Squirrel is by far the most interesting and influential of
the California sciuridae, surpassing every other species in force of
character, numbers, and extent of range, and in the amount of influence
he brings to bear upon the health and distribution of the vast forests
he inhabits.
Go where you will throughout the noble woods of the Sierra Nevada, among
the giant pines and spruces of the lower zones, up through the towering
Silver Firs to the storm-bent thickets of the summit peaks, you
everywhere find this little squirrel the master-existence. Though only a
few inches long, so intense is his fiery vigor and restlessness, he
stirs every grove with wild life, and makes himself more important than
even the huge bears that shuffle through the tangled underbrush beneath
him. Every wind is fretted by his voice, almost every bole and branch
feels the sting of his sharp feet. How much the growth of the trees is
stimulated by this means it is not easy to learn, but his action in
manipulating their seeds is more appreciable. Nature has made him master
forester and committed most of her coniferous crops to his paws.
Probably over fifty per cent. of all the cones ripened on the Sierra are
cut off and handled by the Douglas alone, and of those of the Big Trees
perhaps ninety per cent. pass through his hands: the greater portion is
of course stored away for food to last during the winter and spring, but
some of them are tucked separately into loosely covered holes, where
some of the seeds germinate and become trees. But the Sierra is only one
of the many provinces over which he holds sway, for his dominion extends
over all the Redwood Belt of the Coast Mountains, and far northward
throughout the majestic forests of Oregon, Washington, and British
Columbia. I make haste to mention these facts, to show upon how
substantial a foundation the importance I ascribe to him rests.
The Douglas is closely allied to the Red Squirrel or Chickaree of the
eastern woods. Ours may be a lineal descendant of this species,
distributed westward to the Pacific by way of the Great Lakes and the
Rocky Mountains, and thence southward along our forested ranges. This
view is suggested by the fact that our species becomes redder and more
Chickaree-like in general, the farther it is traced back along the
course indicated above. But whatever their relationship, and the
evolutionary forces that have acted upon them, the Douglas is now the
larger and more beautiful animal.
From the nose to the root of the tail he measures about eight inches;
and his tail, which he so effectively uses in interpreting his feelings,
is about six inches in length. He wears dark bluish-gray over the back
and half-way down the sides, bright buff on the belly, with a stripe of
dark gray, nearly black, separating the upper and under colors; this
dividing stripe, however, is not very sharply defined. He has long black
whiskers, which gives him a rather fierce look when observed closely,
strong claws, sharp as fish-hooks, and the brightest of bright eyes,
full of telling speculation.
A King's River Indian told me that they call him "Pillillooeet," which,
rapidly pronounced with the first syllable heavily accented, is not
unlike the lusty exclamation he utters on his way up a tree when
excited. Most mountaineers in California call him the Pine Squirrel; and
when I asked an old trapper whether he knew our little forester, he
replied with brightening countenance: "Oh, yes, of course I know him;
everybody knows him. When I'm huntin' in the woods, I often find out
where the deer are by his barkin' at 'em. I call 'em Lightnin'
Squirrels, because they're so mighty quick and peert."
All the true squirrels are more or less birdlike in speech and
movements; but the Douglas is preeminently so, possessing, as he does,
every attribute peculiarly squirrelish enthusiastically concentrated. He
is the squirrel of squirrels, flashing from branch to branch of his
favorite evergreens crisp and glossy and undiseased as a sunbeam. Give
him wings and he would outfly any bird in the woods. His big gray cousin
is a looser animal, seemingly light enough to float on the wind; yet
when leaping from limb to limb, or out of one tree-top to another, he
sometimes halts to gather strength, as if making efforts concerning the
upshot of which he does not always feel exactly confident. But the
Douglas, with his denser body, leaps and glides in hidden strength,
seemingly as independent of common muscles as a mountain stream. He
threads the tasseled branches of the pines, stirring their needles like
a rustling breeze; now shooting across openings in arrowy lines; now
launching in curves, glinting deftly from side to side in sudden
zigzags, and swirling in giddy loops and spirals around the knotty
trunks; getting into what seem to be the most impossible situations
without sense of danger; now on his haunches, now on his head; yet ever
graceful, and punctuating his most irrepressible outbursts of energy
with little dots and dashes of perfect repose. He is, without exception,
the wildest animal I ever saw,--a fiery, sputtering little bolt of life,
luxuriating in quick oxygen and the woods' best juices. One can hardly
think of such a creature being dependent, like the rest of us, on
climate and food. But, after all, it requires no long acquaintance to
learn he is human, for he works for a living. His busiest time is in the
Indian summer. Then he gathers burs and hazel-nuts like a plodding
farmer, working continuously every day for hours; saying not a word;
cutting off the ripe cones at the top of his speed, as if employed by
the job, and examining every branch in regular order, as if careful that
not one should escape him; then, descending, he stores them away beneath
logs and stumps, in anticipation of the pinching hunger days of winter.
He seems himself a kind of coniferous fruit,--both fruit and flower. The
resiny essences of the pines pervade every pore of his body, and eating
his flesh is like chewing gum.
One never tires of this bright chip of nature,--this brave little voice
crying in the wilderness,--of observing his many works and ways, and
listening to his curious language. His musical, piny gossip is as savory
to the ear as balsam to the palate; and, though he has not exactly the
gift of song, some of his notes are as sweet as those of a
linnet--almost flute-like in softness, while others prick and tingle
like thistles. He is the mocking-bird of squirrels, pouring forth mixed
chatter and song like a perennial fountain; barking like a dog,
screaming like a hawk, chirping like a blackbird or a sparrow; while in
bluff, audacious noisiness he is a very jay.
[Illustration: TRACK OF DOUGLAS SQUIRREL ONCE DOWN AND UP A PINE-TREE
WHEN SHOWING OFF TO A SPECTATOR.]
In descending the trunk of a tree with the intention of alighting on the
ground, he preserves a cautious silence, mindful, perhaps, of foxes and
wildcats; but while rocking safely at home in the pine-tops there is no
end to his capers and noise; and woe to the gray squirrel or chipmunk
that ventures to set foot on his favorite tree! No matter how slyly they
trace the furrows of the bark, they are speedily discovered, and kicked
down-stairs with comic vehemence, while a torrent of angry notes comes
rushing from his whiskered lips that sounds remarkably like swearing. He
will even attempt at times to drive away dogs and men, especially if he
has had no previous knowledge of them. Seeing a man for the first time,
he approaches nearer and nearer, until within a few feet; then, with an
angry outburst, he makes a sudden rush, all teeth and eyes, as if about
to eat you up. But, finding that the big, forked animal doesn't scare,
he prudently beats a retreat, and sets himself up to reconnoiter on some
overhanging branch, scrutinizing every movement you make with ludicrous
solemnity. Gathering courage, he ventures down the trunk again, churring
and chirping, and jerking nervously up and down in curious loops, eyeing
you all the time, as if snowing off and demanding your admiration.
Finally, growing calmer, he settles down in a comfortable posture on
some horizontal branch commanding a good view, and beats time with his
tail to a steady "Chee-up! chee-up!" or, when somewhat less excited,
"Pee-ah!" with the first syllable keenly accented, and the second drawn
out like the scream of a hawk,--repeating this slowly and more
emphatically at first, then gradually faster, until a rate of about 150
words a minute is reached; usually sitting all the time on his haunches,
with paws resting on his breast, which pulses visibly with each word. It
is remarkable, too, that, though articulating distinctly, he keeps his
mouth shut most of the time, and speaks through his nose. I have
occasionally observed him even eating Sequoia seeds and nibbling a
troublesome flea, without ceasing or in any way confusing his "Pee-ah!
pee-ah!" for a single moment.
While ascending trees all his claws come into play, but in descending
the weight of his body is sustained chiefly by those of the hind feet;
still in neither case do his movements suggest effort, though if you are
near enough you may see the bulging strength of his short, bear-like
arms, and note his sinewy fists clinched in the bark.
Whether going up or down, he carries his tail extended at full length in
line with his body, unless it be required for gestures. But while
running along horizontal limbs or fallen trunks, it is frequently folded
forward over the back, with the airy tip daintily upcurled. In cool
weather it keeps him warm. Then, after he has finished his meal, you may
see him crouched close on some level limb with his tail-robe neatly
spread and reaching forward to his ears, the electric, outstanding hairs
quivering in the breeze like pine-needles. But in wet or very cold
weather he stays in his nest, and while curled up there his comforter is
long enough to come forward around his nose. It is seldom so cold,
however, as to prevent his going out to his stores when hungry.
Once as I lay storm-bound on the upper edge of the timber line on Mount
Shasta, the thermometer nearly at zero and the sky thick with driving
snow, a Douglas came bravely out several times from one of the lower
hollows of a Dwarf Pine near my camp, faced the wind without seeming to
feel it much, frisked lightly about over the mealy snow, and dug his way
down to some hidden seeds with wonderful precision, as if to his eyes
the thick snow-covering were glass.
No other of the Sierra animals of my acquaintance is better fed, not
even the deer, amid abundance of sweet herbs and shrubs, or the mountain
sheep, or omnivorous bears. His food consists of grass-seeds, berries,
hazel-nuts, chinquapins, and the nuts and seeds of all the coniferous
trees without exception,--Pine, Fir, Spruce, Libocedrus, Juniper, and
Sequoia,--he is fond of them all, and they all agree with him, green or
ripe. No cone is too large for him to manage, none so small as to be
beneath his notice. The smaller ones, such as those of the Hemlock, and
the Douglas Spruce, and the Two-leaved Pine, he cuts off and eats on a
branch of the tree, without allowing them to fall; beginning at the
bottom of the cone and cutting away the scales to expose the seeds; not
gnawing by guess, like a bear, but turning them round and round in
regular order, in compliance with their spiral arrangement.
When thus employed, his location in the tree is betrayed by a dribble of
scales, shells, and seed-wings, and, every few minutes, by the fall of
the stripped axis of the cone. Then of course he is ready for another,
and if you are watching you may catch a glimpse of him as he glides
silently out to the end of a branch and see him examining the
cone-clusters until he finds one to his mind; then, leaning over, pull
back the springy needles out of his way, grasp the cone with his paws to
prevent its falling, snip it off in an incredibly short time, seize it
with jaws grotesquely stretched, and return to his chosen seat near the
trunk. But the immense size of the cones of the Sugar Pine--from fifteen
to twenty inches in length--and those of the Jeffrey variety of the
Yellow Pine compel him to adopt a quite different method. He cuts them
off without attempting to hold them, then goes down and drags them from
where they have chanced to fall up to the bare, swelling ground around
the instep of the tree, where he demolishes them in the same methodical
way, beginning at the bottom and following the scale-spirals to the top.
[Illustration: SEEDS, WINGS, AND SCALE OF SUGAR PINE. (NAT. SIZE.)]
From a single Sugar Pine cone he gets from two to four hundred seeds
about half the size of a hazel-nut, so that in a few minutes he can
procure enough to last a week. He seems, however, to prefer those of the
two Silver First above all others; perhaps because they are most easily
obtained, as the scales drop off when ripe without needing to be cut.
Both species are filled with an exceedingly pungent, aromatic oil, which
spices all his flesh, and is of itself sufficient to account for his
lightning energy.
You may easily know this little workman by his chips. On sunny hillsides
around the principal trees they lie in big piles,--bushels and
basketfuls of them, all fresh and clean, making the most beautiful
kitchen-middens imaginable. The brown and yellow scales and nut-shells
are as abundant and as delicately penciled and tinted as the shells
along the sea-shore; while the beautiful red and purple seed-wings
mingled with them would lead one to fancy that innumerable butterflies
had there met their fate.
He feasts on all the species long before they are ripe, but is wise
enough to wait until they are matured before he gathers them into his
barns. This is in October and November, which with him are the two
busiest months of the year. All kinds of burs, big and little, are now
cut off and showered down alike, and the ground is speedily covered with
them. A constant thudding and bumping is kept up; some of the larger
cones chancing to fall on old logs make the forest reecho with the
sound. Other nut-eaters less industrious know well what is going on, and
hasten to carry away the cones as they fall. But however busy the
harvester may be, he is not slow to descry the pilferers below, and
instantly leaves his work to drive them away. The little striped tamias
is a thorn in his flesh, stealing persistently, punish him as he may.
The large Gray Squirrel gives trouble also, although the Douglas has
been accused of stealing from him. Generally, however, just the opposite
is the case.
The excellence of the Sierra evergreens is well known to nurserymen
throughout the world, consequently there is considerable demand for the
seeds. The greater portion of the supply has hitherto been procured by
chopping down the trees in the more accessible sections of the forest
alongside of bridle-paths that cross the range. Sequoia seeds at first
brought from twenty to thirty dollars per pound, and therefore were
eagerly sought after. Some of the smaller fruitful trees were cut down
in the groves not protected by government, especially those of Fresno
and King's River. Most of the Sequoias, however, are of so gigantic a
size that the seedsmen have to look for the greater portion of their
supplies to the Douglas, who soon learns he is no match for these
freebooters. He is wise enough, however, to cease working the instant he
perceives them, and never fails to embrace every opportunity to recover
his burs whenever they happen to be stored in any place accessible to
him, and the busy seedsman often finds on returning to camp that the
little Douglas has exhaustively spoiled the spoiler. I know one
seed-gatherer who, whenever he robs the squirrels, scatters wheat or
barley beneath the trees as conscience-money.
The want of appreciable life remarked by so many travelers in the Sierra
forests is never felt at this time of year. Banish all the humming
insects and the birds and quadrupeds, leaving only Sir Douglas, and the
most solitary of our so-called solitudes would still throb with ardent
life. But if you should go impatiently even into the most populous of
the groves on purpose to meet him, and walk about looking up among the
branches, you would see very little of him. But lie down at the foot of
one of the trees and straightway he will come. For, in the midst of the
ordinary forest sounds, the falling of burs, piping of quails, the
screaming of the Clark Crow, and the rustling of deer and bears among
the chaparral, he is quick to detect your strange footsteps, and will
hasten to make a good, close inspection of you as soon as you are still.
First, you may hear him sounding a few notes of curious inquiry, but
more likely the first intimation of his approach will be the prickly
sounds of his feet as he descends the tree overhead, just before he
makes his savage onrush to frighten you and proclaim your presence to
every squirrel and bird in the neighborhood. If you remain perfectly
motionless, he will come nearer and nearer, and probably set your flesh
a-tingle by frisking across your body. Once, while I was seated at the
foot of a Hemlock Spruce in one of the most inaccessible of the San
Joaquin yosemites engaged in sketching, a reckless fellow came up behind
me, passed under my bended arm, and jumped on my paper. And one warm
afternoon, while an old friend of mine was reading out in the shade of
his cabin, one of his Douglas neighbors jumped from the gable upon his
head, and then with admirable assurance ran down over his shoulder and
on to the book he held in his hand.
Our Douglas enjoys a large social circle; for, besides his numerous
relatives, _Sciurus fossor, Tamias quadrivitatus, T. Townsendii,
Spermophilus Beccheyi, S. Douglasii_, he maintains intimate relations
with the nut-eating birds, particularly the Clark Crow (_Picicorvus
columbianus_) and the numerous woodpeckers and jays. The two
spermophiles are astonishingly abundant in the lowlands and lower
foot-hills, but more and more sparingly distributed up through the
Douglas domains,--seldom venturing higher than six or seven thousand
feet above the level of the sea. The gray sciurus ranges but little
higher than this. The little striped tamias alone is associated with him
everywhere. In the lower and middle zones, where they all meet, they are
tolerably harmonious--a happy family, though very amusing skirmishes may
occasionally be witnessed. Wherever the ancient glaciers have spread
forest soil there you find our wee hero, most abundant where depth of
soil and genial climate have given rise to a corresponding luxuriance in
the trees, but following every kind of growth up the curving moraines to
the highest glacial fountains.
Though I cannot of course expect all my readers to sympathize fully in
my admiration of this little animal, few, I hope, will think this sketch
of his life too long. I cannot begin to tell here how much he has
cheered my lonely wanderings during all the years I have been pursuing
my studies in these glorious wilds; or how much unmistakable humanity I
have found in him. Take this for example: One calm, creamy Indian summer
morning, when the nuts were ripe, I was camped in the upper pine-woods
of the south fork of the San Joaquin, where the squirrels seemed to be
about as plentiful as the ripe burs. They were taking an early breakfast
before going to their regular harvest-work. While I was busy with my own
breakfast I heard the thudding fall of two or three heavy cones from a
Yellow Pine near me. I stole noiselessly forward within about twenty
feet of the base of it to observe. In a few moments down came the
Douglas. The breakfast-burs he had cut off had rolled on the gently
sloping ground into a clump of ceanothus bushes, but he seemed to know
exactly where they were, for he found them at once, apparently without
searching for them. They were more than twice as heavy as himself, but
after turning them into the right position for getting a good hold with
his long sickle-teeth he managed to drag them up to the foot of the tree
from which he had cut them, moving backward. Then seating himself
comfortably, he held them on end, bottom up, and demolished them at his
ease. A good deal of nibbling had to be done before he got anything to
eat, because the lower scales are barren, but when he had patiently
worked his way up to the fertile ones he found two sweet nuts at the
base of each, shaped like trimmed hams, and spotted purple like birds'
eggs. And notwithstanding these cones were dripping with soft balsam,
and covered with prickles, and so strongly put together that a boy would
be puzzled to cut them open with a jack-knife, he accomplished his meal
with easy dignity and cleanliness, making less effort apparently than a
man would in eating soft cookery from a plate.
Breakfast done, I whistled a tune for him before he went to work,
curious to see how he would be affected by it. He had not seen me all
this while; but the instant I began to whistle he darted up the tree
nearest to him, and came out on a small dead limb opposite me, and
composed himself to listen. I sang and whistled more than a dozen airs,
and as the music changed his eyes sparkled, and he turned his head
quickly from side to side, but made no other response. Other squirrels,
hearing the strange sounds, came around on all sides, also chipmunks and
birds. One of the birds, a handsome, speckle-breasted thrush, seemed
even more interested than the squirrels. After listening for awhile on
one of the lower dead sprays of a pine, he came swooping forward within
a few feet of my face, and remained fluttering in the air for half a
minute or so, sustaining himself with whirring wing-beats, like a
humming-bird in front of a flower, while I could look into his eyes and
see his innocent wonder.
By this time my performance must have lasted nearly half an hour. I sang
or whistled "Bonnie Boon," "Lass o' Gowrie," "O'er the Water to
Charlie," "Bonnie Woods o' Cragie Lee," etc., all of which seemed to be
listened to with bright interest, my first Douglas sitting patiently
through it all, with his telling eyes fixed upon me until I ventured to
give the "Old Hundredth," when he screamed his Indian name,
Pillillooeet, turned tail, and darted with ludicrous haste up the tree
out of sight, his voice and actions in the case leaving a somewhat
profane impression, as if he had said, "I'll be hanged if you get me to
hear anything so solemn and unpiny." This acted as a signal for the
general dispersal of the whole hairy tribe, though the birds seemed
willing to wait further developments, music being naturally more in
What there can be in that grand old church-tune that is so offensive to
birds and squirrels I can't imagine. A year or two after this High
Sierra concert, I was sitting one fine day on a hill in the Coast Range
where the common Ground Squirrels were abundant. They were very shy on
account of being hunted so much; but after I had been silent and
motionless for half an hour or so they began to venture out of their
holes and to feed on the seeds of the grasses and thistles around me as
if I were no more to be feared than a tree-stump. Then it occurred to me
that this was a good opportunity to find out whether they also disliked
"Old Hundredth." Therefore I began to whistle as nearly as I could
remember the same familiar airs that had pleased the mountaineers of the
Sierra. They at once stopped eating, stood erect, and listened patiently
until I came to "Old Hundredth," when with ludicrous haste every one of
them rushed to their holes and bolted in, their feet twinkling in the
air for a moment as they vanished.
No one who makes the acquaintance of our forester will fail to admire
him; but he is far too self-reliant and warlike ever to be taken for a
How long the life of a Douglas Squirrel may be, I don't know. The young
seem to sprout from knot-holes, perfect from the first, and as enduring
as their own trees. It is difficult, indeed, to realize that so
condensed a piece of sun-fire should ever become dim or die at all. He
is seldom killed by hunters, for he is too small to encourage much of
their attention, and when pursued in settled regions becomes excessively
shy, and keeps close in the furrows of the highest trunks, many of which
are of the same color as himself. Indian boys, however, lie in wait with
unbounded patience to shoot them with arrows. In the lower and middle
zones a few fall a prey to rattlesnakes. Occasionally he is pursued by
hawks and wildcats, etc. But, upon the whole, he dwells safely in the
deep bosom of the woods, the most highly favored of all his happy tribe.
May his tribe increase!
[Illustration: TRYING THE BOW.]
A WIND-STORM IN THE FORESTS
The mountain winds, like the dew and rain, sunshine and snow, are
measured and bestowed with love on the forests to develop their strength
and beauty. However restricted the scope of other forest influences,
that of the winds is universal. The snow bends and trims the upper
forests every winter, the lightning strikes a single tree here and
there, while avalanches mow down thousands at a swoop as a gardener
trims out a bed of flowers. But the winds go to every tree, fingering
every leaf and branch and furrowed bole; not one is forgotten; the
Mountain Pine towering with outstretched arms on the rugged buttresses
of the icy peaks, the lowliest and most retiring tenant of the dells;
they seek and find them all, caressing them tenderly, bending them in
lusty exercise, stimulating their growth, plucking off a leaf or limb as
required, or removing an entire tree or grove, now whispering and cooing
through the branches like a sleepy child, now roaring like the ocean;
the winds blessing the forests, the forests the winds, with ineffable
beauty and harmony as the sure result.
[Illustration: A WIND-STORM IN THE CALIFORNIA FORESTS. (AFTER A SKETCH
BY THE AUTHOR.)]
After one has seen pines six feet in diameter bending like grasses
before a mountain gale, and ever and anon some giant falling with a
crash that shakes the hills, it seems astonishing that any, save the
lowest thickset trees, could ever have found a period sufficiently
stormless to establish themselves; or, once established, that they
should not, sooner or later, have been blown down. But when the storm is
over, and we behold the same forests tranquil again, towering fresh and
unscathed in erect majesty, and consider what centuries of storms have
fallen upon them since they were first planted,--hail, to break the
tender seedlings; lightning, to scorch and shatter; snow, winds, and
avalanches, to crush and overwhelm,--while the manifest result of all
this wild storm-culture is the glorious perfection we behold; then faith
in Nature's forestry is established, and we cease to deplore the
violence of her most destructive gales, or of any other storm-implement
There are two trees in the Sierra forests that are never blown down, so
long as they continue in sound health. These are the Juniper and the
Dwarf Pine of the summit peaks. Their stiff, crooked roots grip the
storm-beaten ledges like eagles' claws, while their lithe, cord-like
branches bend round compliantly, offering but slight holds for winds,
however violent. The other alpine conifers--the Needle Pine, Mountain
Pine, Two-leaved Pine, and Hemlock Spruce--are never thinned out by this
agent to any destructive extent, on account of their admirable toughness
and the closeness of their growth. In general the same is true of the
giants of the lower zones. The kingly Sugar Pine, towering aloft to a
height of more than 200 feet, offers a fine mark to storm-winds; but it
is not densely foliaged, and its long, horizontal arms swing round
compliantly in the blast, like tresses of green, fluent algae in a
brook; while the Silver Firs in most places keep their ranks well
together in united strength. The Yellow or Silver Pine is more
frequently overturned than any other tree on the Sierra, because its
leaves and branches form a larger mass in proportion to its height,
while in many places it is planted sparsely, leaving open lanes through
which storms may enter with full force. Furthermore, because it is
distributed along the lower portion of the range, which was the first to
be left bare on the breaking up of the ice-sheet at the close of the
glacial winter, the soil it is growing upon has been longer exposed to
post-glacial weathering, and consequently is in a more crumbling,
decayed condition than the fresher soils farther up the range, and
therefore offers a less secure anchorage for the roots.
While exploring the forest zones of Mount Shasta, I discovered the path
of a hurricane strewn with thousands of pines of this species. Great and
small had been uprooted or wrenched off by sheer force, making a clean
gap, like that made by a snow avalanche. But hurricanes capable of doing
this class of work are rare in the Sierra, and when we have explored the
forests from one extremity of the range to the other, we are compelled
to believe that they are the most beautiful on the face of the earth,
however we may regard the agents that have made them so.
There is always something deeply exciting, not only in the sounds of
winds in the woods, which exert more or less influence over every mind,
but in their varied waterlike flow as manifested by the movements of the
trees, especially those of the conifers. By no other trees are they
rendered so extensively and impressively visible, not even by the lordly
tropic palms or tree-ferns responsive to the gentlest breeze. The waving
of a forest of the giant Sequoias is indescribably impressive and
sublime, but the pines seem to me the best interpreters of winds. They
are mighty waving goldenrods, ever in tune, singing and writing
wind-music all their long century lives. Little, however, of this noble
tree-waving and tree-music will you see or hear in the strictly alpine
portion of the forests. The burly Juniper, whose girth sometimes more
than equals its height, is about as rigid as the rocks on which it
grows. The slender lash-like sprays of the Dwarf Pine stream out in
wavering ripples, but the tallest and slenderest are far too unyielding
to wave even in the heaviest gales. They only shake in quick, short
vibrations. The Hemlock Spruce, however, and the Mountain Pine, and some
of the tallest thickets of the Two-leaved species bow in storms with
considerable scope and gracefulness. But it is only in the lower and
middle zones that the meeting of winds and woods is to be seen in all
its grandeur.
One of the most beautiful and exhilarating storms I ever enjoyed in the
Sierra occurred in December, 1874, when I happened to be exploring one
of the tributary valleys of the Yuba River. The sky and the ground and
the trees had been thoroughly rain-washed and were dry again. The day
was intensely pure, one of those incomparable bits of California winter,
warm and balmy and full of white sparkling sunshine, redolent of all the
purest influences of the spring, and at the same time enlivened with one
of the most bracing wind-storms conceivable. Instead of camping out, as
I usually do, I then chanced to be stopping at the house of a friend.
But when the storm began to sound, I lost no time in pushing out into
the woods to enjoy it. For on such occasions Nature has always something
rare to show us, and the danger to life and limb is hardly greater than
one would experience crouching deprecatingly beneath a roof.
It was still early morning when I found myself fairly adrift. Delicious
sunshine came pouring over the hills, lighting the tops of the pines,
and setting free a steam of summery fragrance that contrasted strangely
with the wild tones of the storm. The air was mottled with pine-tassels
and bright green plumes, that went flashing past in the sunlight like
birds pursued. But there was not the slightest dustiness, nothing less
pure than leaves, and ripe pollen, and flecks of withered bracken and
moss. I heard trees falling for hours at the rate of one every two or
three minutes; some uprooted, partly on account of the loose,
water-soaked condition of the ground; others broken straight across,
where some weakness caused by fire had determined the spot. The gestures
of the various trees made a delightful study. Young Sugar Pines, light
and feathery as squirrel-tails, were bowing almost to the ground; while
the grand old patriarchs, whose massive boles had been tried in a
hundred storms, waved solemnly above them, their long, arching branches
streaming fluently on the gale, and every needle thrilling and ringing
and shedding off keen lances of light like a diamond. The Douglas
Spruces, with long sprays drawn out in level tresses, and needles massed
in a gray, shimmering glow, presented a most striking appearance as they
stood in bold relief along the hilltops. The madronos in the dells, with
their red bark and large glossy leaves tilted every way, reflected the
sunshine in throbbing spangles like those one so often sees on the
rippled surface of a glacier lake. But the Silver Pines were now the
most impressively beautiful of all. Colossal spires 200 feet in height
waved like supple golden-rods chanting and bowing low as if in worship,
while the whole mass of their long, tremulous foliage was kindled into
one continuous blaze of white sun-fire. The force of the gale was such
that the most steadfast monarch of them all rocked down to its roots
with a motion plainly perceptible when one leaned against it. Nature was
holding high festival, and every fiber of the most rigid giants thrilled
with glad excitement.
I drifted on through the midst of this passionate music and motion,
across many a glen, from ridge to ridge; often halting in the lee of a
rock for shelter, or to gaze and listen. Even when the grand anthem had
swelled to its highest pitch, I could distinctly hear the varying tones
of individual trees,--Spruce, and Fir, and Pine, and leafless Oak,--and
even the infinitely gentle rustle of the withered grasses at my feet.
Each was expressing itself in its own way,--singing its own song, and
making its own peculiar gestures,--manifesting a richness of variety to
be found in no other forest I have yet seen. The coniferous woods of
Canada, and the Carolinas, and Florida, are made up of trees that
resemble one another about as nearly as blades of grass, and grow close
together in much the same way. Coniferous trees, in general, seldom
possess individual character, such as is manifest among Oaks and Elms.
But the California forests are made up of a greater number of distinct
species than any other in the world. And in them we find, not only a
marked differentiation into special groups, but also a marked
individuality in almost every tree, giving rise to storm effects
indescribably glorious.
Toward midday, after a long, tingling scramble through copses of hazel
and ceanothus, I gained the summit of the highest ridge in the
neighborhood; and then it occurred to me that it would be a fine thing
to climb one of the trees to obtain a wider outlook and get my ear close
to the Aeolian music of its topmost needles. But under the circumstances
the choice of a tree was a serious matter. One whose instep was not very
strong seemed in danger of being blown down, or of being struck by
others in case they should fall; another was branchless to a
considerable height above the ground, and at the same time too large to
be grasped with arms and legs in climbing; while others were not
favorably situated for clear views. After cautiously casting about, I
made choice of the tallest of a group of Douglas Spruces that were
growing close together like a tuft of grass, no one of which seemed
likely to fall unless all the rest fell with it. Though comparatively
young, they were about 100 feet high, and their lithe, brushy tops were
rocking and swirling in wild ecstasy. Being accustomed to climb trees in
making botanical studies, I experienced no difficulty in reaching the
top of this one, and never before did I enjoy so noble an exhilaration
of motion. The slender tops fairly flapped and swished in the passionate
torrent, bending and swirling backward and forward, round and round,
tracing indescribable combinations of vertical and horizontal curves,
while I clung with muscles firm braced, like a bobolink on a reed.
In its widest sweeps my tree-top described an arc of from twenty to
thirty degrees, but I felt sure of its elastic temper, having seen
others of the same species still more severely tried--bent almost to the
ground indeed, in heavy snows--without breaking a fiber. I was therefore
safe, and free to take the wind into my pulses and enjoy the excited
forest from my superb outlook. The view from here must be extremely
beautiful in any weather. Now my eye roved over the piny hills and dales
as over fields of waving grain, and felt the light running in ripples
and broad swelling undulations across the valleys from ridge to ridge,
as the shining foliage was stirred by corresponding waves of air.
Oftentimes these waves of reflected light would break up suddenly into a
kind of beaten foam, and again, after chasing one another in regular
order, they would seem to bend forward in concentric curves, and
disappear on some hillside, like sea-waves on a shelving shore. The
quantity of light reflected from the bent needles was so great as to
make whole groves appear as if covered with snow, while the black
shadows beneath the trees greatly enhanced the effect of the silvery
Excepting only the shadows there was nothing somber in all this wild sea
of pines. On the contrary, notwithstanding this was the winter season,
the colors were remarkably beautiful. The shafts of the pine and
libocedrus were brown and purple, and most of the foliage was well
tinged with yellow; the laurel groves, with the pale undersides of their
leaves turned upward, made masses of gray; and then there was many a
dash of chocolate color from clumps of manzanita, and jet of vivid
crimson from the bark of the madronos, while the ground on the
hillsides, appearing here and there through openings between the groves,
displayed masses of pale purple and brown.
The sounds of the storm corresponded gloriously with this wild
exuberance of light and motion. The profound bass of the naked branches
and boles booming like waterfalls; the quick, tense vibrations of the
pine-needles, now rising to a shrill, whistling hiss, now falling to a
silky murmur; the rustling of laurel groves in the dells, and the keen
metallic click of leaf on leaf--all this was heard in easy analysis when
the attention was calmly bent.
The varied gestures of the multitude were seen to fine advantage, so
that one could recognize the different species at a distance of several
miles by this means alone, as well as by their forms and colors, and the
way they reflected the light. All seemed strong and comfortable, as if
really enjoying the storm, while responding to its most enthusiastic
greetings. We hear much nowadays concerning the universal struggle for
existence, but no struggle in the common meaning of the word was
manifest here; no recognition of danger by any tree; no deprecation; but
rather an invincible gladness as remote from exultation as from fear.
I kept my lofty perch for hours, frequently closing my eyes to enjoy the
music by itself, or to feast quietly on the delicious fragrance that was
streaming past. The fragrance of the woods was less marked than that
produced during warm rain, when so many balsamic buds and leaves are
steeped like tea; but, from the chafing of resiny branches against each
other, and the incessant attrition of myriads of needles, the gale was
spiced to a very tonic degree. And besides the fragrance from these
local sources there were traces of scents brought from afar. For this
wind came first from the sea, rubbing against its fresh, briny waves,
then distilled through the redwoods, threading rich ferny gulches, and
spreading itself in broad undulating currents over many a
flower-enameled ridge of the coast mountains, then across the golden
plains, up the purple foot-hills, and into these piny woods with the
varied incense gathered by the way.
Winds are advertisements of all they touch, however much or little we
may be able to read them; telling their wanderings even by their scents
alone. Mariners detect the flowery perfume of land-winds far at sea, and
sea-winds carry the fragrance of dulse and tangle far inland, where it
is quickly recognized, though mingled with the scents of a thousand
land-flowers. As an illustration of this, I may tell here that I
breathed sea-air on the Firth of Forth, in Scotland, while a boy; then
was taken to Wisconsin, where I remained nineteen years; then, without
in all this time having breathed one breath of the sea, I walked
quietly, alone, from the middle of the Mississippi Valley to the Gulf of
Mexico, on a botanical excursion, and while in Florida, far from the
coast, my attention wholly bent on the splendid tropical vegetation
about me, I suddenly recognized a sea-breeze, as it came sifting through
the palmettos and blooming vine-tangles, which at once awakened and set
free a thousand dormant associations, and made me a boy again in
Scotland, as if all the intervening years had been annihilated.
Most people like to look at mountain rivers, and bear them in mind; but
few care to look at the winds, though far more beautiful and sublime,
and though they become at times about as visible as flowing water. When
the north winds in winter are making upward sweeps over the curving
summits of the High Sierra, the fact is sometimes published with flying
snow-banners a mile long. Those portions of the winds thus embodied can
scarce be wholly invisible, even to the darkest imagination. And when
we look around over an agitated forest, we may see something of the wind
that stirs it, by its effects upon the trees. Yonder it descends in a
rush of water-like ripples, and sweeps over the bending pines from hill
to hill. Nearer, we see detached plumes and leaves, now speeding by on
level currents, now whirling in eddies, or, escaping over the edges of
the whirls, soaring aloft on grand, upswelling domes of air, or tossing
on flame-like crests. Smooth, deep currents, cascades, falls, and
swirling eddies, sing around every tree and leaf, and over all the
varied topography of the region with telling changes of form, like
mountain rivers conforming to the features of their channels.
After tracing the Sierra streams from their fountains to the plains,
marking where they bloom white in falls, glide in crystal plumes, surge
gray and foam-filled in boulder-choked gorges, and slip through the
woods in long, tranquil reaches--after thus learning their language and
forms in detail, we may at length hear them chanting all together in one
grand anthem, and comprehend them all in clear inner vision, covering
the range like lace. But even this spectacle is far less sublime and not
a whit more substantial than what we may behold of these storm-streams
of air in the mountain woods.
We all travel the milky way together, trees and men; but it never
occurred to me until this storm-day, while swinging in the wind, that
trees are travelers, in the ordinary sense. They make many journeys, not
extensive ones, it is true; but our own little journeys, away and back
again, are only little more than tree-wavings--many of them not so much.
When the storm began to abate, I dismounted and sauntered down through
the calming woods. The storm-tones died away, and, turning toward the
east, I beheld the countless hosts of the forests hushed and tranquil,
towering above one another on the slopes of the hills like a devout
audience. The setting sun filled them with amber light, and seemed to
say, while they listened, "My peace I give unto you."
As I gazed on the impressive scene, all the so-called ruin of the storm
was forgotten, and never before did these noble woods appear so fresh,
so joyous, so immortal.
THE RIVER FLOODS
The Sierra rivers are flooded every spring by the melting of the snow as
regularly as the famous old Nile. They begin to rise in May, and in June
high-water mark is reached. But because the melting does not go on
rapidly over all the fountains, high and low, simultaneously, and the
melted snow is not reinforced at this time of year by rain, the spring
floods are seldom very violent or destructive. The thousand falls,
however, and the cascades in the canons are then in full bloom, and sing
songs from one end of the range to the other. Of course the snow on the
lower tributaries of the rivers is first melted, then that on the higher
fountains most exposed to sunshine, and about a month later the cooler,
shadowy fountains send down their treasures, thus allowing the main
trunk streams nearly six weeks to get their waters hurried through the
foot-hills and across the lowlands to the sea. Therefore very violent
spring floods are avoided, and will be as long as the shading,
restraining forests last. The rivers of the north half of the range are
still less subject to sudden floods, because their upper fountains in
great part lie protected from the changes of the weather beneath thick
folds of lava, just as many of the rivers of Alaska lie beneath folds of
ice, coming to the light farther down the range in large springs, while
those of the high Sierra lie on the surface of solid granite, exposed to
every change of temperature. More than ninety per cent. of the water
derived from the snow and ice of Mount Shasta is at once absorbed and
drained away beneath the porous lava folds of the mountain, where
mumbling and groping in the dark they at length find larger fissures and
tunnel-like caves from which they emerge, filtered and cool, in the form
of large springs, some of them so large they give birth to rivers that
set out on their journeys beneath the sun without any visible
intermediate period of childhood. Thus the Shasta River issues from a
large lake-like spring in Shasta Valley, and about two thirds of the
volume of the McCloud River gushes forth suddenly from the face of a
lava bluff in a roaring spring seventy-five yards wide.
These spring rivers of the north are of course shorter than those of the
south whose tributaries extend up to the tops of the mountains. Fall
River, an important tributary of the Pitt or Upper Sacramento, is only
about ten miles long, and is all falls, cascades, and springs from its
head to its confluence with the Pitt. Bountiful springs, charmingly
embowered, issue from the rocks at one end of it, a snowy fall a hundred
and eighty feet high thunders at the other, and a rush of crystal rapids
sing and dance between. Of course such streams are but little affected
by the weather. Sheltered from evaporation their flow is nearly as full
in the autumn as in the time of general spring floods. While those of
the high Sierra diminish to less than the hundredth part of their
springtime prime, shallowing in autumn to a series of silent pools among
the rocks and hollows of their channels, connected by feeble, creeping
threads of water, like the sluggish sentences of a tired writer,
connected by a drizzle of "ands" and "buts." Strange to say, the
greatest floods occur in winter, when one would suppose all the wild
waters would be muffled and chained in frost and snow. The same long,
all-day storms of the so-called Rainy Season in California, that give
rain to the lowlands, give dry frosty snow to the mountains. But at rare
intervals warm rains and warm winds invade the mountains and push back
the snow line from 2000 feet to 8000, or even higher, and then come the
I was usually driven down out of the High Sierra about the end of
November, but the winter of 1874 and 1875 was so warm and calm that I
was tempted to seek general views of the geology and topography of the
basin of Feather River in January. And I had just completed a hasty
survey of the region, and made my way down to winter quarters, when one
of the grandest flood-storms that I ever saw broke on the mountains. I
was then in the edge of the main forest belt at a small foot-hill town
called Knoxville, on the divide between the waters of the Feather and
Yuba rivers. The cause of this notable flood was simply a sudden and
copious fall of warm wind and rain on the basins of these rivers at a
time when they contained a considerable quantity of snow. The rain was
so heavy and long-sustained that it was, of itself, sufficient to make a
good wild flood, while the snow which the warm wind and rain melted on
the upper and middle regions of the basins was sufficient to make
another flood equal to that of the rain. Now these two distinct harvests
of flood waters were gathered simultaneously and poured out on the plain
in one magnificent avalanche. The basins of the Yuba and Feather, like
many others of the Sierra, are admirably adapted to the growth of floods
of this kind. Their many tributaries radiate far and wide, comprehending
extensive areas, and the tributaries are steeply inclined, while the
trunks are comparatively level. While the flood-storm was in progress
the thermometer at Knoxville ranged between 44 deg. and 50 deg.; and when warm
wind and warm rain fall simultaneously on snow contained in basins like
these, both the rain and that portion of the snow which the rain and
wind melt are at first sponged up and held back until the combined mass
becomes sludge, which at length, suddenly dissolving, slips and descends
all together to the trunk channel; and since the deeper the stream the
faster it flows, the flooded portion of the current above overtakes the
slower foot-hill portion below it, and all sweeping forward together
with a high, overcurling front, debouches on the open plain with a
violence and suddenness that at first seem wholly unaccountable. The
destructiveness of the lower portion of this particular flood was
somewhat augmented by mining gravel in the river channels, and by levees
which gave way after having at first restrained and held back the
accumulating waters. These exaggerating conditions did not, however,
greatly influence the general result, the main effect having been caused
by the rare combination of flood factors indicated above. It is a pity
that but few people meet and enjoy storms so noble as this in their
homes in the mountains, for, spending themselves in the open levels of
the plains, they are likely to be remembered more by the bridges and
houses they carry away than by their beauty or the thousand blessings
they bring to the fields and gardens of Nature.
On the morning of the flood, January 19th, all the Feather and Yuba
landscapes were covered with running water, muddy torrents filled every
gulch and ravine, and the sky was thick with rain. The pines had long
been sleeping in sunshine; they were now awake, roaring and waving with
the beating storm, and the winds sweeping along the curves of hill and
dale, streaming through the woods, surging and gurgling on the tops of
rocky ridges, made the wildest of wild storm melody.
It was easy to see that only a small part of the rain reached the ground
in the form of drops. Most of it was thrashed into dusty spray like that
into which small waterfalls are divided when they dash on shelving
rocks. Never have I seen water coming from the sky in denser or more
passionate streams. The wind chased the spray forward in choking drifts,
and compelled me again and again to seek shelter in the dell copses and
back of large trees to rest and catch my breath. Wherever I went, on
ridges or in hollows, enthusiastic water still flashed and gurgled about
my ankles, recalling a wild winter flood in Yosemite when a hundred
waterfalls came booming and chanting together and filled the grand
valley with a sea-like roar.
After drifting an hour or two in the lower woods, I set out for the
summit of a hill 900 feet high, with a view to getting as near the heart
of the storm as possible. In order to reach it I had to cross Dry Creek,
a tributary of the Yuba that goes crawling along the base of the hill on
the northwest. It was now a booming river as large as the Tuolumne at
ordinary stages, its current brown with mining-mud washed down from many
a "claim," and mottled with sluice-boxes, fence-rails, and logs that had
long lain above its reach. A slim foot-bridge stretched across it, now
scarcely above the swollen current. Here I was glad to linger, gazing
and listening, while the storm was in its richest mood--the gray
rain-flood above, the brown river-flood beneath. The language of the
river was scarcely less enchanting than that of the wind and rain; the
sublime overboom of the main bouncing, exulting current, the swash and
gurgle of the eddies, the keen dash and clash of heavy waves breaking
against rocks, and the smooth, downy hush of shallow currents feeling
their way through the willow thickets of the margin. And amid all this
varied throng of sounds I heard the smothered bumping and rumbling of
boulders on the bottom as they were shoving and rolling forward against
one another in a wild rush, after having lain still for probably 100
years or more.
The glad creek rose high above its banks and wandered from its channel
out over many a briery sand-flat and meadow. Alders and willows
waist-deep were bearing up against the current with nervous trembling
gestures, as if afraid of being carried away, while supple branches
bending confidingly, dipped lightly and rose again, as if stroking the
wild waters in play. Leaving the bridge and passing on through the
storm-thrashed woods, all the ground seemed to be moving. Pine-tassels,
flakes of bark, soil, leaves, and broken branches were being swept
forward, and many a rock-fragment, weathered from exposed ledges, was
now receiving its first rounding and polishing in the wild streams of
the storm. On they rushed through every gulch and hollow, leaping,
gliding, working with a will, and rejoicing like living creatures.
Nor was the flood confined to the ground. Every tree had a water system
of its own spreading far and wide like miniature Amazons and
Mississippis.
Toward midday, cloud, wind, and rain reached their highest development.
The storm was in full bloom, and formed, from my commanding outlook on
the hilltop, one of the most glorious views I ever beheld. As far as the
eye could reach, above, beneath, around, wind-driven rain filled the air
like one vast waterfall. Detached clouds swept imposingly up the valley,
as if they were endowed with independent motion and had special work to
do in replenishing the mountain wells, now rising above the pine-tops,
now descending into their midst, fondling their arrowy spires and
soothing every branch and leaf with gentleness in the midst of all the
savage sound and motion. Others keeping near the ground glided behind
separate groves, and brought them forward into relief with admirable
distinctness; or, passing in front, eclipsed whole groves in succession,
pine after pine melting in their gray fringes and bursting forth again
seemingly clearer than before.
The forms of storms are in great part measured, and controlled by the
topography of the regions where they rise and over which they pass.
When, therefore, we attempt to study them from the valleys, or from gaps
and openings of the forest, we are confounded by a multitude of separate
and apparently antagonistic impressions. The bottom of the storm is
broken up into innumerable waves and currents that surge against the
hillsides like sea-waves against a shore, and these, reacting on the
nether surface of the storm, erode immense cavernous hollows and canons,
and sweep forward the resulting detritus in long trains, like the
moraines of glaciers. But, as we ascend, these partial, confusing
effects disappear and the phenomena are beheld united and harmonious.
The longer I gazed into the storm, the more plainly visible it became.
The drifting cloud detritus gave it a kind of visible body, which
explained many perplexing phenomena, and published its movements in
plain terms, while the texture of the falling mass of rain rounded it
out and rendered it more complete. Because raindrops differ in size they
fall at different velocities and overtake and clash against one another,
producing mist and spray. They also, of course, yield unequal compliance
to the force of the wind, which gives rise to a still greater degree of
interference, and passionate gusts sweep off clouds of spray from the
groves like that torn from wave-tops in a gale. All these factors of
irregularity in density, color, and texture of the general rain mass
tend to make it the more appreciable and telling. It is then seen as one
grand flood rushing over bank and brae, bending the pines like weeds,
curving this way and that, whirling in huge eddies in hollows and dells,
while the main current pours grandly over all, like ocean currents over
the landscapes that lie hidden at the bottom of the sea.
I watched the gestures of the pines while the storm was at its height,
and it was easy to see that they were not distressed. Several large
Sugar Pines stood near the thicket in which I was sheltered, bowing
solemnly and tossing their long arms as if interpreting the very words
of the storm while accepting its wildest onsets with passionate
exhilaration. The lions were feeding. Those who have observed sunflowers
feasting on sunshine during the golden days of Indian summer know that
none of their gestures express thankfulness. Their celestial food is too
heartily given, too heartily taken to leave room for thanks. The pines
were evidently accepting the benefactions of the storm in the same
whole-souled manner; and when I looked down among the budding hazels,
and still lower to the young violets and fern-tufts on the rocks, I
noticed the same divine methods of giving and taking, and the same
exquisite adaptations of what seems an outbreak of violent and
uncontrollable force to the purposes of beautiful and delicate life.
Calms like sleep come upon landscapes, just as they do on people and
trees, and storms awaken them in the same way. In the dry midsummer of
the lower portion of the range the withered hills and valleys seem to
lie as empty and expressionless as dead shells on a shore. Even the
highest mountains may be found occasionally dull and uncommunicative as
if in some way they had lost countenance and shrunk to less than half
their real stature. But when the lightnings crash and echo in the
canons, and the clouds come down wreathing and crowning their bald snowy
heads, every feature beams with expression and they rise again in all
their imposing majesty.
Storms are fine speakers, and tell all they know, but their voices of
lightning, torrent, and rushing wind are much less numerous than the
nameless still, small voices too low for human ears; and because we are
poor listeners we fail to catch much that is fairly within reach. Our
best rains are heard mostly on roofs, and winds in chimneys; and when by
choice or compulsion we are pushed into the heart of a storm, the
confusion made by cumbersome equipments and nervous haste and mean fear,
prevent our hearing any other than the loudest expressions. Yet we may
draw enjoyment from storm sounds that are beyond hearing, and storm
movements we cannot see. The sublime whirl of planets around their suns
is as silent as raindrops oozing in the dark among the roots of plants.
In this great storm, as in every other, there were tones and gestures
inexpressibly gentle manifested in the midst of what is called violence
and fury, but easily recognized by all who look and listen for them. The
rain brought out the colors of the woods with delightful freshness, the
rich brown of the bark of the trees and the fallen burs and leaves and
dead ferns; the grays of rocks and lichens; the light purple of swelling
buds, and the warm yellow greens of the libocedrus and mosses. The air
was steaming with delightful fragrance, not rising and wafting past in
separate masses, but diffused through all the atmosphere. Pine woods are
always fragrant, but most so in spring when the young tassels are
opening and in warm weather when the various gums and balsams are
softened by the sun. The wind was now chafing their innumerable needles
and the warm rain was steeping them. Monardella grows here in large beds
in the openings, and there is plenty of laurel in dells and manzanita on
the hillsides, and the rosy, fragrant chamoebatia carpets the ground
almost everywhere. These, with the gums and balsams of the woods, form
the main local fragrance-fountains of the storm. The ascending clouds of
aroma wind-rolled and rain-washed became pure like light and traveled
with the wind as part of it. Toward the middle of the afternoon the main
flood cloud lifted along its western border revealing a beautiful
section of the Sacramento Valley some twenty or thirty miles away,
brilliantly sun-lighted and glistering with rain-sheets as if paved with
silver. Soon afterward a jagged bluff-like cloud with a sheer face
appeared over the valley of the Yuba, dark-colored and roughened with
numerous furrows like some huge lava-table. The blue Coast Range was
seen stretching along the sky like a beveled wall, and the somber,
craggy Marysville Buttes rose impressively out of the flooded plain like
islands out of the sea. Then the rain began to abate and I sauntered
down through the dripping bushes reveling in the universal vigor and
freshness that inspired all the life about me. How clean and unworn and
immortal the woods seemed to be!--the lofty cedars in full bloom laden
with golden pollen and their washed plumes shining; the pines rocking
gently and settling back into rest, and the evening sunbeams spangling
on the broad leaves of the madronos, their tracery of yellow boughs
relieved against dusky thickets of Chestnut Oak; liverworts,
lycopodiums, ferns were exulting in glorious revival, and every moss
that had ever lived seemed to be coming crowding back from the dead to
clothe each trunk and stone in living green. The steaming ground seemed
fairly to throb and tingle with life; smilax, fritillaria, saxifrage,
and young violets were pushing up as if already conscious of the summer
glory, and innumerable green and yellow buds were peeping and smiling
As for the birds and squirrels, not a wing or tail of them was to be
seen while the storm was blowing. Squirrels dislike wet weather more
than cats do; therefore they were at home rocking in their dry nests.
The birds were hiding in the dells out of the wind, some of the
strongest of them pecking at acorns and manzanita berries, but most were
perched on low twigs, their breast feathers puffed out and keeping one
another company through the hard time as best they could.
When I arrived at the village about sundown, the good people bestirred
themselves, pitying my bedraggled condition as if I were some benumbed
castaway snatched from the sea, while I, in turn, warm with excitement
and reeking like the ground, pitied them for being dry and defrauded of
all the glory that Nature had spread round about them that day.
SIERRA THUNDER-STORMS
The weather of spring and summer in the middle region of the Sierra is
usually well flecked with rains and light dustings of snow, most of
which are far too obviously joyful and life-giving to be regarded as
storms; and in the picturesque beauty and clearness of outlines of their
clouds they offer striking contrasts to those boundless, all-embracing
cloud-mantles of the storms of winter. The smallest and most perfectly
individualized specimens present a richly modeled cumulous cloud rising
above the dark woods, about 11 A.M., swelling with a visible motion
straight up into the calm, sunny sky to a height of 12,000 to 14,000
feet above the sea, its white, pearly bosses relieved by gray and pale
purple shadows in the hollows, and showing outlines as keenly defined as
those of the glacier-polished domes. In less than an hour it attains
full development and stands poised in the blazing sunshine like some
colossal mountain, as beautiful in form and finish as if it were to
become a permanent addition to the landscape. Presently a thunderbolt
crashes through the crisp air, ringing like steel on steel, sharp and
clear, its startling detonation breaking into a spray of echoes against
the cliffs and canon walls. Then down comes a cataract of rain. The big
drops sift through the pine-needles, plash and patter on the granite
pavements, and pour down the sides of ridges and domes in a network of
gray, bubbling rills. In a few minutes the cloud withers to a mesh of
dim filaments and disappears, leaving the sky perfectly clear and
bright, every dust-particle wiped and washed out of it. Everything is
refreshed and invigorated, a steam of fragrance rises, and the storm is
finished--one cloud, one lightning-stroke, and one dash of rain. This is
the Sierra mid-summer thunder-storm reduced to its lowest terms. But
some of them attain much larger proportions, and assume a grandeur and
energy of expression hardly surpassed by those bred in the depths of
winter, producing those sudden floods called "cloud-bursts," which are
local, and to a considerable extent periodical, for they appear nearly
every day about the same time for weeks, usually about eleven o'clock,
and lasting from five minutes to an hour or two. One soon becomes so
accustomed to see them that the noon sky seems empty and abandoned
without them, as if Nature were forgetting something. When the glorious
pearl and alabaster clouds of these noonday storms are being built I
never give attention to anything else. No mountain or mountain-range,
however divinely clothed with light, has a more enduring charm than
those fleeting mountains of the sky--floating fountains bearing water
for every well, the angels of the streams and lakes; brooding in the
deep azure, or sweeping softly along the ground over ridge and dome,
over meadow, over forest, over garden and grove; lingering with cooling
shadows, refreshing every flower, and soothing rugged rock-brows with a
gentleness of touch and gesture wholly divine.
The most beautiful and imposing of the summer storms rise just above the
upper edge of the Silver Fir zone, and all are so beautiful that it is
not easy to choose any one for particular description. The one that I
remember best fell on the mountains near Yosemite Valley, July 19, 1869,
while I was encamped in the Silver Fir woods. A range of bossy cumuli
took possession of the sky, huge domes and peaks rising one beyond
another with deep canons between them, bending this way and that in long
curves and reaches, interrupted here and there with white upboiling
masses that looked like the spray of waterfalls. Zigzag lances of
lightning followed each other in quick succession, and the thunder was
so gloriously loud and massive it seemed as if surely an entire mountain
was being shattered at every stroke. Only the trees were touched,
however, so far as I could see,--a few firs 200 feet high, perhaps, and
five to six feet in diameter, were split into long rails and slivers
from top to bottom and scattered to all points of the compass. Then came
the rain in a hearty flood, covering the ground and making it shine with
a continuous sheet of water that, like a transparent film or skin,
fitted closely down over all the rugged anatomy of the landscape.
It is not long, geologically speaking, since the first raindrop fell on
the present landscapes of the Sierra; and in the few tens of thousands
of years of stormy cultivation they have been blest with, how beautiful
they have become! The first rains fell on raw, crumbling moraines and
rocks without a plant. Now scarcely a drop can fail to find a beautiful
mark: on the tops of the peaks, on the smooth glacier pavements, on the
curves of the domes, on moraines full of crystals, on the thousand forms
of yosemitic sculpture with their tender beauty of balmy, flowery
vegetation, laving, plashing, glinting, pattering; some falling softly
on meadows, creeping out of sight, seeking and finding every thirsty
rootlet, some through the spires of the woods, sifting in dust through
the needles, and whispering good cheer to each of them; some falling
with blunt tapping sounds, drumming on the broad leaves of veratrum,
cypripedium, saxifrage; some falling straight into fragrant corollas,
kissing the lips of lilies, glinting on the sides of crystals, on
shining grains of gold; some falling into the fountains of snow to swell
their well-saved stores; some into the lakes and rivers, patting the
smooth glassy levels, making dimples and bells and spray, washing the
mountain windows, washing the wandering winds; some plashing into the
heart of snowy falls and cascades as if eager to join in the dance and
the song and beat the foam yet finer. Good work and happy work for the
merry mountain raindrops, each one of them a brave fall in itself,
rushing from the cliffs and hollows of the clouds into the cliffs and
hollows of the mountains; away from the thunder of the sky into the
thunder of the roaring rivers. And how far they have to go, and how many
cups to fill--cassiope-cups, holding half a drop, and lake basins
between the hills, each replenished with equal care--every drop God's
messenger sent on its way with glorious pomp and display of
power--silvery new-born stars with lake and river, mountain and
valley--all that the landscape holds--reflected in their crystal depths.
CHAPTER XIII
THE WATER-OUZEL
The waterfalls of the Sierra are frequented by only one bird,--the Ouzel
or Water Thrush (_Cinclus Mexicanus_, SW.). He is a singularly
joyous and lovable little fellow, about the size of a robin, clad in a
plain waterproof suit of bluish gray, with a tinge of chocolate on the
head and shoulders. In form he is about as smoothly plump and compact as
a pebble that has been whirled in a pot-hole, the flowing contour of his
body being interrupted only by his strong feet and bill, the crisp
wing-tips, and the up-slanted wren-like tail. Among all the countless
waterfalls I have met in the course of ten years' exploration in the
Sierra, whether among the icy peaks, or warm foot-hills, or in the
profound yosemitic canons of the middle region, not one was found
without its Ouzel. No canon is too cold for this little bird, none too
lonely, provided it be rich in falling water. Find a fall, or cascade,
or rushing rapid, anywhere upon a clear stream, and there you will
surely find its complementary Ouzel, flitting about in the spray, diving
in foaming eddies, whirling like a leaf among beaten foam-bells; ever
vigorous and enthusiastic, yet self-contained, and neither seeking nor
shunning your company.
[Illustration: WATER-OUZEL DIVING AND FEEDING.]
If disturbed while dipping about in the margin shallows, he either sets
off with a rapid whir to some other feeding-ground up or down the
stream, or alights on some half-submerged rock or snag out in the
current, and immediately begins to nod and courtesy like a wren, turning
his head from side to side with many other odd dainty movements that
never fail to fix the attention of the observer.
He is the mountain streams' own darling, the humming-bird of blooming
waters, loving rocky ripple-slopes and sheets of foam as a bee loves
flowers, as a lark loves sunshine and meadows. Among all the mountain
birds, none has cheered me so much in my lonely wanderings,--none so
unfailingly. For both in winter and summer he sings, sweetly, cheerily,
independent alike of sunshine and of love, requiring no other
inspiration than the stream on which he dwells. While water sings, so
must he, in heat or cold, calm or storm, ever attuning his voice in sure
accord; low in the drought of summer and the drought of winter, but
never silent.
During the golden days of Indian summer, after most of the snow has been
melted, and the mountain streams have become feeble,--a succession of
silent pools, linked together by shallow, transparent currents and
strips of silvery lacework,--then the song of the Ouzel is at its lowest
ebb. But as soon as the winter clouds have bloomed, and the mountain
treasuries are once more replenished with snow, the voices of the
streams and ouzels increase in strength and richness until the flood
season of early summer. Then the torrents chant their noblest anthems,
and then is the flood-time of our songster's melody. As for weather,
dark days and sun days are the same to him. The voices of most
song-birds, however joyous, suffer a long winter eclipse; but the Ouzel
sings on through all the seasons and every kind of storm. Indeed no
storm can be more violent than those of the waterfalls in the midst of
which he delights to dwell. However dark and boisterous the weather,
snowing, blowing, or cloudy, all the same he sings, and with never a
note of sadness. No need of spring sunshine to thaw _his_ song, for
it never freezes. Never shall you hear anything wintry from _his_
warm breast; no pinched cheeping, no wavering notes between sorrow and
joy; his mellow, fluty voice is ever tuned to downright gladness, as
free from dejection as cock-crowing.
It is pitiful to see wee frost-pinched sparrows on cold mornings in the
mountain groves shaking the snow from their feathers, and hopping about
as if anxious to be cheery, then hastening back to their hidings out of
the wind, puffing out their breast-feathers over their toes, and
subsiding among the leaves, cold and breakfastless, while the snow
continues to fall, and there is no sign of clearing. But the Ouzel never
calls forth a single touch of pity; not because he is strong to endure,
but rather because he seems to live a charmed life beyond the reach of
every influence that makes endurance necessary.
One wild winter morning, when Yosemite Valley was swept its length from
west to east by a cordial snow-storm, I sallied forth to see what I
might learn and enjoy. A sort of gray, gloaming-like darkness filled the
valley, the huge walls were out of sight, all ordinary sounds were
smothered, and even the loudest booming of the falls was at times buried
beneath the roar of the heavy-laden blast. The loose snow was already
over five feet deep on the meadows, making extended walks impossible
without the aid of snow-shoes. I found no great difficulty, however, in
making my way to a certain ripple on the river where one of my ouzels
lived. He was at home, busily gleaning his breakfast among the pebbles
of a shallow portion of the margin, apparently unaware of anything
extraordinary in the weather. Presently he flew out to a stone against
which the icy current was beating, and turning his back to the wind,
sang as delightfully as a lark in springtime.
After spending an hour or two with my favorite, I made my way across the
valley, boring and wallowing through the drifts, to learn as definitely
as possible how the other birds were spending their time. The Yosemite
birds are easily found during the winter because all of them excepting
the Ouzel are restricted to the sunny north side of the valley, the
south side being constantly eclipsed by the great frosty shadow of the
wall. And because the Indian Canon groves, from their peculiar exposure,
are the warmest, the birds congregate there, more especially in severe
I found most of the robins cowering on the lee side of the larger
branches where the snow could not fall upon them, while two or three of
the more enterprising were making desperate efforts to reach the
mistletoe berries by clinging nervously to the under side of the
snow-crowned masses, back downward, like woodpeckers. Every now and then
they would dislodge some of the loose fringes of the snow-crown, which
would come sifting down on them and send them screaming back to camp,
where they would subside among their companions with a shiver, muttering
in low, querulous chatter like hungry children.
Some of the sparrows were busy at the feet of the larger trees gleaning
seeds and benumbed insects, joined now and then by a robin weary of his
unsuccessful attempts upon the snow-covered berries. The brave
woodpeckers were clinging to the snowless sides of the larger boles and
overarching branches of the camp trees, making short nights from side to
side of the grove, pecking now and then at the acorns they had stored in
the bark, and chattering aimlessly as if unable to keep still, yet
evidently putting in the time in a very dull way, like storm-bound
travelers at a country tavern. The hardy nut-hatches were threading the
open furrows of the trunks in their usual industrious manner, and
uttering their quaint notes, evidently less distressed than their
neighbors. The Steller jays were of course making more noisy stir than
all the other birds combined; ever coming and going with loud bluster,
screaming as if each had a lump of melting sludge in his throat, and
taking good care to improve the favorable opportunity afforded by the
storm to steal from the acorn stores of the woodpeckers. I also noticed
one solitary gray eagle braving the storm on the top of a tall
pine-stump just outside the main grove. He was standing bolt upright
with his back to the wind, a tuft of snow piled on his square shoulders,
a monument of passive endurance. Thus every snow-bound bird seemed more
or less uncomfortable if not in positive distress.
The storm was reflected in every gesture, and not one cheerful note, not
to say song, came from a single bill; their cowering, joyless endurance
offering a striking contrast to the spontaneous, irrepressible gladness
of the Ouzel, who could no more help exhaling sweet song than a rose
sweet fragrance. He _must_ sing though the heavens fall. I remember
noticing the distress of a pair of robins during the violent earthquake
of the year 1872, when the pines of the Valley, with strange movements,
flapped and waved their branches, and beetling rock-brows came
thundering down to the meadows in tremendous avalanches. It did not
occur to me in the midst of the excitement of other observations to look
for the ouzels, but I doubt not they were singing straight on through it
all, regarding the terrible rock-thunder as fearlessly as they do the
booming of the waterfalls.
What may be regarded as the separate songs of the Ouzel are exceedingly
difficult of description, because they are so variable and at the same
time so confluent. Though I have been acquainted with my favorite ten
years, and during most of this time have heard him sing nearly every
day, I still detect notes and strains that seem new to me. Nearly all of
his music is sweet and tender, lapsing from his round breast like water
over the smooth lip of a pool, then breaking farther on into a sparkling
foam of melodious notes, which, glow with subdued enthusiasm, yet
without expressing much of the strong, gushing ecstasy of the bobolink
The more striking strains are perfect arabesques of melody, composed of
a few full, round, mellow notes, embroidered with delicate trills which
fade and melt in long slender cadences. In a general way his music is
that of the streams refined and spiritualized. The deep booming notes of
the falls are in it, the trills of rapids, the gurgling of margin
eddies, the low whispering of level reaches, and the sweet tinkle of
separate drops oozing from the ends of mosses and falling into tranquil
The Ouzel never sings in chorus with other birds, nor with his kind, but
only with the streams. And like flowers that bloom beneath the surface
of the ground, some of our favorite's best song-blossoms never rise
above the surface of the heavier music of the water. I have often
observed him singing in the midst of beaten spray, his music completely
buried beneath the water's roar; yet I knew he was surely singing by his
gestures and the movements of his bill.
His food, as far as I have noticed, consists of all kinds of water
insects, which in summer are chiefly procured along shallow margins.
Here he wades about ducking his head under water and deftly turning over
pebbles and fallen leaves with his bill, seldom choosing to go into deep
water where he has to use his wings in diving.
He seems to be especially fond of the larvae; of mosquitos, found in
abundance attached to the bottom of smooth rock channels where the
current is shallow. When feeding in such places he wades up-stream, and
often while his head is under water the swift current is deflected
upward along the glossy curves of his neck and shoulders, in the form of
a clear, crystalline shell, which fairly incloses him like a bell-glass,
the shell being broken and re-formed as he lifts and dips his head;
while ever and anon he sidles out to where the too powerful current
carries him off his feet; then he dexterously rises on the wing and goes
gleaning again in shallower places.
But during the winter, when the stream-banks are embossed in snow, and
the streams themselves are chilled nearly to the freezing-point, so that
the snow falling into them in stormy weather is not wholly dissolved,
but forms a thin, blue sludge, thus rendering the current opaque--then
he seeks the deeper portions of the main rivers, where he may dive to
clear water beneath the sludge. Or he repairs to some open lake or
mill-pond, at the bottom of which he feeds in safety.
When thus compelled to betake himself to a lake, he does not plunge into
it at once like a duck, but always alights in the first place upon some
rock or fallen pine along the shore. Then flying out thirty or forty
yards, more or less, according to the character of the bottom, he
alights with a dainty glint on the surface, swims about, looks down,
finally makes up his mind, and disappears with a sharp stroke of his
wings. After feeding for two or three minutes he suddenly reappears,
showers the water from his wings with one vigorous shake, and rises
abruptly into the air as if pushed up from beneath, comes back to his
perch, sings a few minutes, and goes out to dive again; thus coming and
going, singing and diving at the same place for hours.
[Illustration: ONE OF THE LATE-SUMMER FEEDING-GROUNDS OF THE OUZEL.]
The Ouzel is usually found singly; rarely in pairs, excepting during the
breeding season, and _very_ rarely in threes or fours. I once
observed three thus spending a winter morning in company, upon a small
glacier lake, on the Upper Merced, about 7500 feet above the level of
the sea. A storm had occurred during the night, but the morning sun
shone unclouded, and the shadowy lake, gleaming darkly in its setting of
fresh snow, lay smooth and motionless as a mirror. My camp chanced to be
within a few feet of the water's edge, opposite a fallen pine, some of
the branches of which leaned out over the lake. Here my three dearly
welcome visitors took up their station, and at once began to embroider
the frosty air with their delicious melody, doubly delightful to me that
particular morning, as I had been somewhat apprehensive of danger in
breaking my way down through the snow-choked canons to the lowlands.
The portion of the lake bottom selected for a feeding-ground lies at a
depth of fifteen or twenty feet below the surface, and is covered with a
short growth of algae and other aquatic plants,--facts I had previously
determined while sailing over it on a raft. After alighting on the
glassy surface, they occasionally indulged in a little play, chasing one
another round about in small circles; then all three would suddenly dive
together, and then come ashore and sing.
The Ouzel seldom swims more than a few yards on the surface, for, not
being web-footed, he makes rather slow progress, but by means of his
strong, crisp wings he swims, or rather flies, with celerity under the
surface, often to considerable distances. But it is in withstanding the
force of heavy rapids that his strength of wing in this respect is most
strikingly manifested. The following may be regarded as a fair
illustration of his power of sub-aquatic flight. One stormy morning in
winter when the Merced River was blue and green with unmelted snow, I
observed one of my ouzels perched on a snag out in the midst of a
swift-rushing rapid, singing cheerily, as if everything was just to his
mind; and while I stood on the bank admiring him, he suddenly plunged
into the sludgy current, leaving his song abruptly broken off. After
feeding a minute or two at the bottom, and when one would suppose that
he must inevitably be swept far down-stream, he emerged just where he
went down, alighted on the same snag, showered the water-beads from his
feathers, and continued his unfinished song, seemingly in tranquil ease
as if it had suffered no interruption.
[Illustration: OUZEL ENTERING A WHITE CURRENT.]
The Ouzel alone of all birds dares to enter a white torrent. And though
strictly terrestrial in structure, no other is so inseparably related
to water, not even the duck, or the bold ocean albatross, or the
stormy-petrel. For ducks go ashore as soon as they finish feeding in
undisturbed places, and very often make long flights over land from lake
to lake or field to field. The same is true of most other aquatic birds.
But the Ouzel, born on the brink of a stream, or on a snag or boulder
in the midst of it, seldom leaves it for a single moment. For,
notwithstanding he is often on the wing, he never flies overland, but
whirs with, rapid, quail-like beat above the stream, tracing all its
windings. Even when the stream is quite small, say from five to ten feet
wide, he seldom shortens his flight by crossing a bend, however abrupt
it may be; and even when disturbed by meeting some one on the bank, he
prefers to fly over one's head, to dodging out over the ground. When,
therefore, his flight along a crooked stream is viewed endwise, it
appears most strikingly wavered--a description on the air of every curve
with lightning-like rapidity.
The vertical curves and angles of the most precipitous torrents he
traces with the same rigid fidelity, swooping down the inclines of
cascades, dropping sheer over dizzy falls amid the spray, and ascending
with the same fearlessness and ease, seldom seeking to lessen the
steepness of the acclivity by beginning to ascend before reaching the
base of the fall. No matter though it may be several hundred feet in
height he holds straight on, as if about to dash headlong into the
throng of booming rockets, then darts abruptly upward, and, after
alighting at the top of the precipice to rest a moment, proceeds to feed
and sing. His flight is solid and impetuous, without any intermission of
wing-beats,--one homogeneous buzz like that of a laden bee on its way
home. And while thus buzzing freely from fall to fall, he is frequently
heard giving utterance to a long outdrawn train of unmodulated notes, in
no way connected with his song, but corresponding closely with his
flight in sustained vigor.
Were the flights of all the ouzels in the Sierra traced on a chart, they
would indicate the direction of the flow of the entire system of ancient
glaciers, from about the period of the breaking up of the ice-sheet
until near the close of the glacial winter; because the streams which
the ouzels so rigidly follow are, with the unimportant exceptions of a
few side tributaries, all flowing in channels eroded for them out of the
solid flank of the range by the vanished glaciers,--the streams tracing
the ancient glaciers, the ouzels tracing the streams. Nor do we find so
complete compliance to glacial conditions in the life of any other
mountain bird, or animal of any kind. Bears frequently accept the
pathways laid down by glaciers as the easiest to travel; but they often
leave them and cross over from canon to canon. So also, most of the
birds trace the moraines to some extent, because the forests are growing
on them. But they wander far, crossing the canons from grove to grove,
and draw exceedingly angular and complicated courses.
The Ouzel's nest is one of the most extraordinary pieces of bird
architecture I ever saw, odd and novel in design, perfectly fresh and
beautiful, and in every way worthy of the genius of the little builder.
It is about a foot in diameter, round and bossy in outline, with a
neatly arched opening near the bottom, somewhat like an old-fashioned
brick oven, or Hottentot's hut. It is built almost exclusively of green
and yellow mosses, chiefly the beautiful fronded hypnum that covers the
rocks and old drift-logs in the vicinity of waterfalls. These are deftly
interwoven, and felted together into a charming little hut; and so
situated that many of the outer mosses continue to flourish as if they
had not been plucked. A few fine, silky-stemmed grasses are occasionally
found interwoven with the mosses, but, with the exception of a thin
layer lining the floor, their presence seems accidental, as they are of
a species found growing with the mosses and are probably plucked with
them. The site chosen for this curious mansion is usually some little
rock-shelf within reach of the lighter particles of the spray of a
waterfall, so that its walls are kept green and growing, at least during
the time of high water.
No harsh lines are presented by any portion of the nest as seen in
place, but when removed from its shelf, the back and bottom, and
sometimes a portion of the top, is found quite sharply angular, because
it is made to conform to the surface of the rock upon which and against
which it is built, the little architect always taking advantage of
slight crevices and protuberances that may chance to offer, to render
his structure stable by means of a kind of gripping and dovetailing.
In choosing a building-spot, concealment does not seem to be taken into
consideration; yet notwithstanding the nest is large and guilelessly
exposed to view, it is far from being easily detected, chiefly because
it swells forward like any other bulging moss-cushion growing naturally
in such situations. This is more especially the case where the nest is
kept fresh by being well sprinkled. Sometimes these romantic little huts
have their beauty enhanced by rock-ferns and grasses that spring up
around the mossy walls, or in front of the door-sill, dripping with
crystal beads.
Furthermore, at certain hours of the day, when the sunshine is poured
down at the required angle, the whole mass of the spray enveloping the
fairy establishment is brilliantly irised; and it is through so glorious
a rainbow atmosphere as this that some of our blessed ouzels obtain
their first peep at the world.
Ouzels seem so completely part and parcel of the streams they inhabit,
they scarce suggest any other origin than the streams themselves; and
one might almost be pardoned in fancying they come direct from the
living waters, like flowers from the ground. At least, from whatever
cause, it never occurred to me to look for their nests until more than a
year after I had made the acquaintance of the birds themselves, although
I found one the very day on which I began the search. In making my way
from Yosemite to the glaciers at the heads of the Merced and Tuolumne
rivers, I camped in a particularly wild and romantic portion of the
Nevada canon where in previous excursions I had never failed to enjoy
the company of my favorites, who were attracted here, no doubt, by the
safe nesting-places in the shelving rocks, and by the abundance of food
and falling water. The river, for miles above and below, consists of a
succession of small falls from ten to sixty feet in height, connected by
flat, plume-like cascades that go flashing from fall to fall, free and
almost channelless, over waving folds of glacier-polished granite.
On the south side of one of the falls, that portion of the precipice
which is bathed by the spray presents a series of little shelves and
tablets caused by the development of planes of cleavage in the granite,
and by the consequent fall of masses through the action of the water.
"Now here," said I, "of all places, is the most charming spot for an
Ouzel's nest." Then carefully scanning the fretted face of the precipice
through the spray, I at length noticed a yellowish moss-cushion, growing
on the edge of a level tablet within five or six feet of the outer folds
of the fall. But apart from the fact of its being situated where one
acquainted with the lives of ouzels would fancy an Ouzel's nest ought to
be, there was nothing in its appearance visible at first sight, to
distinguish it from other bosses of rock-moss similarly situated with
reference to perennial spray; and it was not until I had scrutinized it
again and again, and had removed my shoes and stockings and crept along
the face of the rock within eight or ten feet of it, that I could decide
certainly whether it was a nest or a natural growth.
In these moss huts three or four eggs are laid, white like foam-bubbles;
and well may the little birds hatched from them sing water songs, for
they hear them all their lives, and even before they are born.
I have often observed the young just out of the nest making their odd
gestures, and seeming in every way as much at home as their experienced
parents, like young bees on their first excursions to the flower fields.
No amount of familiarity with people and their ways seems to change them
in the least. To all appearance their behavior is just the same on
seeing a man for the first time, as when they have seen him frequently.
[Illustration: THE OUZEL AT HOME.]
On the lower reaches of the rivers where mills are built, they sing on
through the din of the machinery, and all the noisy confusion of dogs,
cattle, and workmen. On one occasion, while a wood-chopper was at work
on the river-bank, I observed one cheerily singing within reach of the
flying chips. Nor does any kind of unwonted disturbance put him in bad
humor, or frighten him out of calm self-possession. In passing through a
narrow gorge, I once drove one ahead of me from rapid to rapid,
disturbing him four times in quick succession where he could not very
well fly past me on account of the narrowness of the channel. Most birds
under similar circumstances fancy themselves pursued, and become
suspiciously uneasy; but, instead of growing nervous about it, he made
his usual dippings, and sang one of his most tranquil strains. When
observed within a few yards their eyes are seen to express remarkable
gentleness and intelligence; but they seldom allow so near a view unless
one wears clothing of about the same color as the rocks and trees, and
knows how to sit still. On one occasion, while rambling along the shore
of a mountain lake, where the birds, at least those born that season,
had never seen a man, I sat down to rest on a large stone close to the
water's edge, upon which it seemed the ouzels and sandpipers were in the
habit of alighting when they came to feed on that part of the shore, and
some of the other birds also, when they came down to wash or drink. In a
few minutes, along came a whirring Ouzel and alighted on the stone
beside me, within reach of my hand. Then suddenly observing me, he
stooped nervously as if about to fly on the instant, but as I remained
as motionless as the stone, he gained confidence, and looked me steadily
in the face for about a minute, then flew quietly to the outlet and
began to sing. Next came a sandpiper and gazed at me with much the same
guileless expression of eye as the Ouzel. Lastly, down with a swoop came
a Steller's jay out of a fir-tree, probably with the intention of
moistening his noisy throat. But instead of sitting confidingly as my
other visitors had done, he rushed off at once, nearly tumbling heels
over head into the lake in his suspicious confusion, and with loud
screams roused the neighborhood.
Love for song-birds, with their sweet human voices, appears to be more
common and unfailing than love for flowers. Every one loves flowers to
some extent, at least in life's fresh morning, attracted by them as
instinctively as humming-birds and bees. Even the young Digger Indians
have sufficient love for the brightest of those found growing on the
mountains to gather them and braid them, as decorations for the hair.
And I was glad to discover, through the few Indians that could be
induced to talk on the subject, that they have names for the wild rose
and the lily, and other conspicuous flowers, whether available as food
or otherwise. Most men, however, whether savage or civilized, become
apathetic toward all plants that have no other apparent use than the use
of beauty. But fortunately one's first instinctive love of song-birds is
never wholly obliterated, no matter what the influences upon our lives
may be. I have often been delighted to see a pure, spiritual glow come
into the countenances of hard business-men and old miners, when a
song-bird chanced to alight near them. Nevertheless, the little mouthful
of meat that swells out the breasts of some song-birds is too often the
cause of their death. Larks and robins in particular are brought to
market in hundreds. But fortunately the Ouzel has no enemy so eager to
eat his little body as to follow him into the mountain solitudes. I
never knew him to be chased even by hawks.
An acquaintance of mine, a sort of foot-hill mountaineer, had a pet cat,
a great, dozy, overgrown creature, about as broad-shouldered as a lynx.
During the winter, while the snow lay deep, the mountaineer sat in his
lonely cabin among the pines smoking his pipe and wearing the dull time
away. Tom was his sole companion, sharing his bed, and sitting beside
him on a stool with much the same drowsy expression of eye as his
master. The good-natured bachelor was content with his hard fare of
soda-bread and bacon, but Tom, the only creature in the world
acknowledging dependence on him, must needs be provided with fresh meat.
Accordingly he bestirred himself to contrive squirrel-traps, and waded
the snowy woods with his gun, making sad havoc among the few winter
birds, sparing neither robin, sparrow, nor tiny nuthatch, and the
pleasure of seeing Tom eat and grow fat was his great reward.
One cold afternoon, while hunting along the river-bank, he noticed a
plain-feathered little bird skipping about in the shallows, and
immediately raised his gun. But just then the confiding songster began
to sing, and after listening to his summery melody the charmed hunter
turned away, saying, "Bless your little heart, I can't shoot you, not
even for Tom."
[Illustration: YOSEMITE BIRDS, SNOW-BOUND AT THE FOOT OF INDIAN CANON.]
Even so far north as icy Alaska, I have found my glad singer. When I was
exploring the glaciers between Mount Fairweather and the Stikeen River,
one cold day in November, after trying in vain to force a way through
the innumerable icebergs of Sum Dum Bay to the great glaciers at the
head of it, I was weary and baffled and sat resting in my canoe
convinced at last that I would have to leave this part of my work for
another year. Then I began to plan my escape to open water before the
young ice which was beginning to form should shut me in. While I thus
lingered drifting with the bergs, in the midst of these gloomy
forebodings and all the terrible glacial desolation and grandeur, I
suddenly heard the well-known whir of an Ouzel's wings, and, looking up,
saw my little comforter coming straight across the ice from the shore.
In a second or two he was with me, flying three times round my head with
a happy salute, as if saying, "Cheer up, old friend; you see I'm here,
and all's well." Then he flew back to the shore, alighted on the topmost
jag of a stranded iceberg, and began to nod and bow as though he were on
one of his favorite boulders in the midst of a sunny Sierra cascade.
The species is distributed all along the mountain-ranges of the Pacific
Coast from Alaska to Mexico, and east to the Rocky Mountains.
Nevertheless, it is as yet comparatively little known. Audubon and
Wilson did not meet it. Swainson was, I believe, the first naturalist to
describe a specimen from Mexico. Specimens were shortly afterward
procured by Drummond near the sources of the Athabasca River, between
the fifty-fourth and fifty-sixth parallels; and it has been collected by
nearly all of the numerous exploring expeditions undertaken of late
through our Western States and Territories; for it never fails to engage
the attention of naturalists in a very particular manner.
Such, then, is our little cinclus, beloved of every one who is so
fortunate as to know him. Tracing on strong wing every curve of the most
precipitous torrents from one extremity of the Sierra to the other; not
fearing to follow them through their darkest gorges and coldest
snow-tunnels; acquainted with every waterfall, echoing their divine
music; and throughout the whole of their beautiful lives interpreting
all that we in our unbelief call terrible in the utterances of torrents
and storms, as only varied expressions of God's eternal love.
THE WILD SHEEP
(_Ovis montana_)
The wild sheep ranks highest among the animal mountaineers of the
Sierra. Possessed of keen sight and scent, and strong limbs, he dwells
secure amid the loftiest summits, leaping unscathed from crag to crag,
up and down the fronts of giddy precipices, crossing foaming torrents
and slopes of frozen snow, exposed to the wildest storms, yet
maintaining a brave, warm life, and developing from generation to
generation in perfect strength and beauty.
Nearly all the lofty mountain-chains of the globe are inhabited by wild
sheep, most of which, on account of the remote and all but inaccessible
regions where they dwell, are imperfectly known as yet. They are
classified by different naturalists under from five to ten distinct
species or varieties, the best known being the burrhel of the Himalaya
(_Ovis burrhel_, Blyth); the argali, the large wild sheep of
central and northeastern Asia (_O. ammon_, Linn., or _Caprovis
argali_); the Corsican mouflon (_O. musimon_, Pal.); the aoudad
of the mountains of northern Africa (_Ammotragus tragelaphus_); and
the Rocky Mountain bighorn (_O. montana_, Cuv.). To this last-named
species belongs the wild sheep of the Sierra. Its range, according to
the late Professor Baird of the Smithsonian Institution, extends "from
the region of the upper Missouri and Yellowstone to the Rocky Mountains
and the high grounds adjacent to them on the eastern slope, and as far
south as the Rio Grande. Westward it extends to the coast ranges of
Washington, Oregon, and California, and follows the highlands some
distance into Mexico."[1] Throughout the vast region bounded on the east
by the Wahsatch Mountains and on the west by the Sierra there are more
than a hundred subordinate ranges and mountain groups, trending north
and south, range beyond range, with summits rising from eight to twelve
thousand feet above the level of the sea, probably all of which,
according to my own observations, is, or has been, inhabited by this
Compared with the argali, which, considering its size and the vast
extent of its range, is probably the most important of all the wild
sheep, our species is about the same size, but the horns are less
twisted and less divergent. The more important characteristics are,
however, essentially the same, some of the best naturalists maintaining
that the two are only varied forms of one species. In accordance with
this view, Cuvier conjectures that since central Asia seems to be the
region where the sheep first appeared, and from which it has been
distributed, the argali may have been distributed over this continent
from Asia by crossing Bering Strait on ice. This conjecture is not so
ill founded as at first sight would appear; for the Strait is only about
fifty miles wide, is interrupted by three islands, and is jammed with
ice nearly every winter. Furthermore the argali is abundant on the
mountains adjacent to the Strait at East Cape, where it is well known to
the Tschuckchi hunters and where I have seen many of their horns.
On account of the extreme variability of the sheep under culture, it is
generally supposed that the innumerable domestic breeds have all been
derived from the few wild species; but the whole question is involved in
obscurity. According to Darwin, sheep have been domesticated from a very
ancient period, the remains of a small breed, differing from any now
known, having been found in the famous Swiss lake-dwellings.
Compared with the best-known domestic breeds, we find that our wild
species is much larger, and, instead of an all-wool garment, wears a
thick over-coat of hair like that of the deer, and an under-covering of
fine wool. The hair, though rather coarse, is comfortably soft and
spongy, and lies smooth, as if carefully tended with comb and brush. The
predominant color during most of the year is brownish-gray, varying to
bluish-gray in the autumn; the belly and a large, conspicuous patch on
the buttocks are white; and the tail, which is very short, like that of
a deer, is black, with a yellowish border. The wool is white, and grows
in beautiful spirals down out of sight among the shining hair, like
delicate climbing vines among stalks of corn.
The horns of the male are of immense size, measuring in their greater
diameter from five to six and a half inches, and from two and a half to
three feet in length around the curve. They are yellowish-white in
color, and ridged transversely, like those of the domestic ram. Their
cross-section near the base is somewhat triangular in outline, and
flattened toward the tip. Rising boldly from the top of the head, they
curve gently backward and outward, then forward and outward, until about
three fourths of a circle is described, and until the flattened, blunt
tips are about two feet or two and a half feet apart. Those of the
female are flattened throughout their entire length, are less curved
than those of the male, and much smaller, measuring less than a foot
along the curve.
A ram and ewe that I obtained near the Modoc lava-beds, to the northeast
of Mount Shasta, measured as follows:
                                             _Ram.       Ewe._
                                          _ft. in.     ft. in._
  Height at shoulders                       3   6       3   0
  Girth around shoulders                    3  11       3   3-3/4
  Length from nose to root of tail          5  10-1/4   4   3-1/2
  Length of ears                            0   4-3/4   0   5
  Length of tail                            0   4-1/2   0   4-1/2
  Length of horns around curve              2   9       0  11-1/2
  Distance across from tip to tip of horns  2   5-1/2
  Circumference of horns at base            1   4       0   6
The measurements of a male obtained in the Rocky Mountains by Audubon
vary but little as compared with the above. The weight of his specimen
was 344 pounds,[2] which is, perhaps, about an average for full-grown
males. The females are about a third lighter.
Besides these differences in size, color, hair, etc., as noted above, we
may observe that the domestic sheep, in a general way, is expressionless,
like a dull bundle of something only half alive, while the wild is as
elegant and graceful as a deer, every movement manifesting admirable
strength and character. The tame is timid; the wild is bold. The tame
is always more or less ruffled and dirty; while the wild is as smooth
and clean as the flowers of his mountain pastures.
The earliest mention that I have been able to find of the wild sheep in
America is by Father Picolo, a Catholic missionary at Monterey, in the
year 1797, who, after describing it, oddly enough, as "a kind of deer
with a sheep-like head, and about as large as a calf one or two years
old," naturally hurries on to remark: "I have eaten of these beasts;
their flesh is very tender and delicious." Mackenzie, in his northern
travels, heard the species spoken of by the Indians as "white buffaloes."
And Lewis and Clark tell us that, in a time of great scarcity on the
head waters of the Missouri, they saw plenty of wild sheep, but they
were "too shy to be shot."
A few of the more energetic of the Pah Ute Indians hunt the wild sheep
every season among the more accessible sections of the High Sierra, in
the neighborhood of passes, where, from having been pursued, they have
become extremely wary; but in the rugged wilderness of peaks and canons,
where the foaming tributaries of the San Joaquin and King's rivers take
their rise, they fear no hunter save the wolf, and are more guileless
and approachable than their tame kindred.
While engaged in the work of exploring high regions where they delight
to roam I have been greatly interested in studying their habits. In the
months of November and December, and probably during a considerable
portion of midwinter, they all flock together, male and female, old and
young. I once found a complete band of this kind numbering upward of
fifty, which, on being alarmed, went bounding away across a jagged
lava-bed at admirable speed, led by a majestic old ram, with the lambs
safe in the middle of the flock.
In spring and summer, the full-grown rams form separate bands of from
three to twenty, and are usually found feeding along the edges of
glacier meadows, or resting among the castle-like crags of the high
summits; and whether quietly feeding, or scaling the wild cliffs, their
noble forms and the power and beauty of their movements never fail to
strike the beholder with lively admiration.
Their resting-places seem to be chosen with reference to sunshine and a
wide outlook, and most of all to safety. Their feeding-grounds are among
the most beautiful of the wild gardens, bright with daisies and gentians
and mats of purple bryanthus, lying hidden away on rocky headlands and
canon sides, where sunshine is abundant, or down in the shady glacier
valleys, along the banks of the streams and lakes, where the plushy sod
is greenest. Here they feast all summer, the happy wanderers, perhaps
relishing the beauty as well as the taste of the lovely flora on which
[Illustration: SNOW-BOUND ON MOUNT SHASTA.]
When the winter storms set in, loading their highland pastures with
snow, then, like the birds, they gather and go to lower climates,
usually descending the eastern flank of the range to the rough, volcanic
table-lands and treeless ranges of the Great Basin adjacent to the
Sierra. They never make haste, however, and seem to have no dread of
storms, many of the strongest only going down leisurely to bare,
wind-swept ridges, to feed on bushes and dry bunch-grass, and then
returning up into the snow. Once I was snow-bound on Mount Shasta for
three days, a little below the timber line. It was a dark and stormy
time, well calculated to test the skill and endurance of mountaineers.
The snow-laden gale drove on night and day in hissing, blinding floods,
and when at length it began to abate, I found that a small band of wild
sheep had weathered the storm in the lee of a clump of Dwarf Pines a few
yards above my storm-nest, where the snow was eight or ten feet deep. I
was warm back of a rock, with blankets, bread, and fire. My brave
companions lay in the snow, without food, and with only the partial
shelter of the short trees, yet they made no sign of suffering or
faint-heartedness.
In the months of May and June, the wild sheep bring forth their young in
solitary and almost inaccessible crags, far above the nesting-rocks of
the eagle. I have frequently come upon the beds of the ewes and lambs at
an elevation of from 12,000 to 13,000 feet above sea-level. These beds
are simply oval-shaped hollows, pawed out among loose, disintegrating
rock-chips and sand, upon some sunny spot commanding a good outlook, and
partially sheltered from the winds that sweep those lofty peaks almost
without intermission. Such is the cradle of the little mountaineer,
aloft in the very sky; rocked in storms, curtained in clouds, sleeping
in thin, icy air; but, wrapped in his hairy coat, and nourished by a
strong, warm mother, defended from the talons of the eagle and the teeth
of the sly coyote, the bonny lamb grows apace. He soon learns to nibble
the tufted rock-grasses and leaves of the white spirsea; his horns begin
to shoot, and before summer is done he is strong and agile, and goes
forth with the flock, watched by the same divine love that tends the
more helpless human lamb in its cradle by the fireside.
Nothing is more commonly remarked by noisy, dusty trail-travelers in
the Sierra than the want of animal life--no song-birds, no deer, no
squirrels, no game of any kind, they say. But if such could only go away
quietly into the wilderness, sauntering afoot and alone with natural
deliberation, they would soon learn that these mountain mansions are not
without inhabitants, many of whom, confiding and gentle, would not try
to shun their acquaintance.
[Illustration: HEAD OF THE MERINO RAM (DOMESTIC).]
In the fall of 1873 I was tracing the South Fork of the San Joaquin up
its wild canon to its farthest glacier fountains. It was the season of
alpine Indian summer. The sun beamed lovingly; the squirrels were
nutting in the pine-trees, butterflies hovered about the last of the
goldenrods, the willow and maple thickets were yellow, the meadows
brown, and the whole sunny, mellow landscape glowed like a countenance
in the deepest and sweetest repose. On my way over the glacier-polished
rocks along the river, I came to an expanded portion of the canon, about
two miles long and half a mile wide, which formed a level park inclosed
with picturesque granite walls like those of Yosemite Valley. Down
through the middle of it poured the beautiful river shining and
spangling in the golden light, yellow groves on its banks, and strips of
brown meadow; while the whole park was astir with wild life, some of
which even the noisiest and least observing of travelers must have seen
had they been with me. Deer, with their supple, well-grown fawns,
bounded from thicket to thicket as I advanced; grouse kept rising from
the brown grass with a great whirring of wings, and, alighting on the
lower branches of the pines and poplars, allowed a near approach, as if
curious to see me. Farther on, a broad-shouldered wildcat showed
himself, coming out of a grove, and crossing the river on a flood-jamb
of logs, halting for a moment to look back. The bird-like tamias frisked
about my feet everywhere among the pine-needles and seedy grass-tufts;
cranes waded the shallows of the river-bends, the kingfisher rattled
from perch to perch, and the blessed ouzel sang amid the spray of every
cascade. Where may lonely wanderer find a more interesting family of
mountain-dwellers, earth-born companions and fellow-mortals? It was
afternoon when I joined them, and the glorious landscape began to fade
in the gloaming before I awoke from their enchantment. Then I sought a
camp-ground on the river-bank, made a cupful of tea, and lay down to
sleep on a smooth place among the yellow leaves of an aspen grove. Next
day I discovered yet grander landscapes and grander life. Following the
river over huge, swelling rock-bosses through a majestic canon, and past
innumerable cascades, the scenery in general became gradually wilder and
more alpine. The Sugar Pine and Silver Firs gave place to the hardier
Cedar and Hemlock Spruce. The canon walls became more rugged and bare,
and gentians and arctic daisies became more abundant in the gardens and
strips of meadow along the streams. Toward the middle of the afternoon I
came to another valley, strikingly wild and original in all its
features, and perhaps never before touched by human foot. As regards
area of level bottom-land, it is one of the very smallest of the
Yosemite type, but its walls are sublime, rising to a height of from
2000 to 4000 feet above the river. At the head of the valley the main
canon forks, as is found to be the case in all yosemites. The formation
of this one is due chiefly to the action of two great glaciers, whose
fountains lay to the eastward, on the flanks of Mounts Humphrey and
Emerson and a cluster of nameless peaks farther south.
[Illustration: HEAD OF ROCKY MOUNTAIN WILD SHEEP.]
The gray, boulder-chafed river was singing loudly through the valley,
but above its massy roar I heard the booming of a waterfall, which drew
me eagerly on; and just as I emerged from the tangled groves and
brier-thickets at the head of the valley, the main fork of the river
came in sight, falling fresh from its glacier fountains in a snowy
cascade, between granite walls 2000 feet high. The steep incline down
which the glad waters thundered seemed to bar all farther progress. It
was not long, however, before I discovered a crooked seam in the rock,
by which I was enabled to climb to the edge of a terrace that crosses
the canon, and divides the cataract nearly in the middle. Here I sat
down to take breath and make some entries in my note-book, taking
advantage, at the same time, of my elevated position above the trees to
gaze back over the valley into the heart of the noble landscape, little
knowing the while what neighbors were near.
After spending a few minutes in this way, I chanced to look across the
fall, and there stood three sheep quietly observing me. Never did the
sudden appearance of a mountain, or fall, or human friend more forcibly
seize and rivet my attention. Anxiety to observe accurately held me
perfectly still. Eagerly I marked the flowing undulations of their firm,
braided muscles, their strong legs, ears, eyes, heads, their graceful
rounded necks, the color of their hair, and the bold, upsweeping curves
of their noble horns. When they moved I watched every gesture, while
they, in no wise disconcerted either by my attention or by the
tumultuous roar of the water, advanced deliberately alongside the
rapids, between the two divisions of the cataract, turning now and then
to look at me. Presently they came to a steep, ice-burnished acclivity,
which they ascended by a succession of quick, short, stiff-legged leaps,
reaching the top without a struggle. This was the most startling feat of
mountaineering I had ever witnessed, and, considering only the mechanics
of the thing, my astonishment could hardly have been greater had they
displayed wings and taken to flight. "Surefooted" mules on such ground
would have fallen and rolled like loosened boulders. Many a time, where
the slopes are far lower, I have been compelled to take off my shoes and
stockings, tie them to my belt, and creep barefooted, with the utmost
caution. No wonder then, that I watched the progress of these animal
mountaineers with keen sympathy, and exulted in the boundless
sufficiency of wild nature displayed in their invention, construction,
and keeping. A few minutes later I caught sight of a dozen more in one
band, near the foot of the upper fall. They were standing on the same
side of the river with me, only twenty-five or thirty yards away,
looking as unworn and perfect as if created on the spot. It appeared by
their tracks, which I had seen in the Little Yosemite, and by their
present position, that when I came up the canon they were all feeding
together down in the valley, and in their haste to reach high
ground, where they could look about them to ascertain the nature of the
strange disturbance, they were divided, three ascending on one side the
river, the rest on the other.
The main band, headed by an experienced chief, now began to cross the
wild rapids between the two divisions of the cascade. This was another
exciting feat; for, among all the varied experiences of mountaineers,
the crossing of boisterous, rock-dashed torrents is found to be one of
the most trying to the nerves. Yet these fine fellows walked fearlessly
to the brink, and jumped from boulder to boulder, holding themselves in
easy poise above the whirling, confusing current, as if they were doing
nothing extraordinary.
[Illustration: CROSSING A CANON STREAM.]
In the immediate foreground of this rare picture there was a fold of
ice-burnished granite, traversed by a few bold lines in which rock-ferns
and tufts of bryanthus were growing, the gray canon walls on the sides,
nobly sculptured and adorned with brown cedars and pines; lofty peaks in
the distance, and in the middle ground the snowy fall, the voice and
soul of the landscape; fringing bushes beating time to its
thunder-tones, the brave sheep in front of it, their gray forms slightly
obscured in the spray, yet standing out in good, heavy relief against
the close white water, with their huge horns rising like the upturned
roots of dead pine-trees, while the evening sunbeams streaming up the
canon colored all the picture a rosy purple and made it glorious. After
crossing the river, the dauntless climbers, led by their chief, at once
began to scale the canon wall, turning now right, now left, in long,
single file, keeping well apart out of one another's way, and leaping in
regular succession from crag to crag, now ascending slippery
dome-curves, now walking leisurely along the edges of precipices,
stopping at times to gaze down at me from some flat-topped rock, with
heads held aslant, as if curious to learn what I thought about it, or
whether I was likely to follow them. After reaching the top of the wall,
which, at this place, is somewhere between 1500 and 2000 feet high, they
were still visible against the sky as they lingered, looking down in
groups of twos or threes.
Throughout the entire ascent they did not make a single awkward step, or
an unsuccessful effort of any kind. I have frequently seen tame sheep in
mountains jump upon a sloping rock-surface, hold on tremulously a few
seconds, and fall back baffled and irresolute. But in the most trying
situations, where the slightest want or inaccuracy would have been
fatal, these always seemed to move in comfortable reliance on their
strength and skill, the limits of which they never appeared to know.
Moreover, each one of the flock, while following the guidance of the
most experienced, yet climbed with intelligent independence as a perfect
individual, capable of separate existence whenever it should wish or be
compelled to withdraw from the little clan. The domestic sheep, on the
contrary, is only a fraction of an animal, a whole flock being required
to form an individual, just as numerous flowerets are required to make
one complete sunflower.
Those shepherds who, in summer, drive their flocks to the mountain
pastures, and, while watching them night and day, have seen them
frightened by bears and storms, and scattered like wind-driven chaff,
will, in some measure, be able to appreciate the self-reliance and
strength and noble individuality of Nature's sheep.
Like the Alp-climbing ibex of Europe, our mountaineer is said to plunge
headlong down the faces of sheer precipices, and alight on his big
horns. I know only two hunters who claim to have actually witnessed this
feat; I never was so fortunate. They describe the act as a diving
head-foremost. The horns are so large at the base that they cover the
upper portion of the head down nearly to a level with the eyes, and the
skull is exceedingly strong. I struck an old, bleached specimen on Mount
Ritter a dozen blows with my ice-ax without breaking it. Such skulls
would not fracture very readily by the wildest rock-diving, but other
bones could hardly be expected to hold together in such a performance;
and the mechanical difficulties in the way of controlling their
movements, after striking upon an irregular surface, are, in themselves,
sufficient to show this boulder-like method of progression to be
impossible, even in the absence of all other evidence on the subject;
moreover, the ewes follow wherever the rams may lead, although their
horns are mere spikes. I have found many pairs of the horns of the old
rams considerably battered, doubtless a result of fighting. I was
particularly interested in the question, after witnessing the
performances of this San Joaquin band upon the glaciated rocks at the
foot of the falls; and as soon as I procured specimens and examined
their feet, all the mystery disappeared. The secret, considered in
connection with exceptionally strong muscles, is simply this: the wide
posterior portion of the bottom of the foot, instead of wearing down and
becoming flat and hard, like the feet of tame sheep and horses, bulges
out in a soft, rubber-like pad or cushion, which not only grips and
holds well on smooth rocks, but fits into small cavities, and down upon
or against slight protuberances. Even the hardest portions of the edge
of the hoof are comparatively soft and elastic; furthermore, the toes
admit of an extraordinary amount of both lateral and vertical movement,
allowing the foot to accommodate itself still more perfectly to the
irregularities of rock surfaces, while at the same time increasing the
gripping power.
At the base of Sheep Rock, one of the winter strongholds of the Shasta
flocks, there lives a stock-raiser who has had the advantage of
observing the movements of wild sheep every winter; and, in the course
of a conversation with him on the subject of their diving habits, he
pointed to the front of a lava headland about 150 feet high, which is
only eight or ten degrees out of the perpendicular. "There," said he, "I
followed a band of them fellows to the back of that rock yonder, and
expected to capture them all, for I thought I had a dead thing on them.
I got behind them on a narrow bench that runs along the face of the wall
near the top and comes to an end where they couldn't get away without
falling and being killed; but they jumped off, and landed all right, as
if that were the regular thing with them."
"What!" said I, "jumped 150 feet perpendicular! Did you see them do it?"
"No," he replied, "I didn't see them going down, for I was behind them;
but I saw them go off over the brink, and then I went below and found
their tracks where they struck on the loose rubbish at the bottom. They
just _sailed right off_, and landed on their feet right side up.
That is the kind of animal _they_ is--beats anything else that goes
on four legs."
[Illustration: WILD SHEEP JUMPING OVER A PRECIPICE.]
On another occasion, a flock that was pursued by hunters retreated to
another portion of this same cliff where it is still higher, and, on
being followed, they were seen jumping down in perfect order, one behind
another, by two men who happened to be chopping where they had a fair
view of them and could watch their progress from top to bottom of the
precipice. Both ewes and rams made the frightful descent without
evincing any extraordinary concern, hugging the rock closely, and
controlling the velocity of their half falling, half leaping movements
by striking at short intervals and holding back with their cushioned,
rubber feet upon small ledges and roughened inclines until near the
bottom, when they "sailed off" into the free air and alighted on their
feet, but with their bodies so nearly in a vertical position that they
appeared to be diving.
It appears, therefore, that the methods of this wild mountaineering
become clearly comprehensible as soon as we make ourselves acquainted
with the rocks, and the kind of feet and muscles brought to bear upon
The Modoc and Pah Ute Indians are, or rather have been, the most
successful hunters of the wild sheep in the regions that have come under
my own observation. I have seen large numbers of heads and horns in the
caves of Mount Shasta and the Modoc lava-beds, where the Indians had
been feasting in stormy weather; also in the canons of the Sierra
opposite Owen's Valley; while the heavy obsidian arrow-heads found on
some of the highest peaks show that this warfare has long been going on.
In the more accessible ranges that stretch across the desert regions of
western Utah and Nevada, considerable numbers of Indians used to hunt in
company like packs of wolves, and being perfectly acquainted with the
topography of their hunting-grounds, and with the habits and instincts
of the game, they were pretty successful. On the tops of nearly every
one of the Nevada mountains that I have visited, I found small,
nest-like inclosures built of stones, in which, as I afterward learned,
one or more Indians would lie in wait while their companions scoured the
ridges below, knowing that the alarmed sheep would surely run to the
summit, and when they could be made to approach with the wind they were
shot at short range.
[Illustration: INDIANS HUNTING WILD SHEEP.]
Still larger bands of Indians used to make extensive hunts upon some
dominant mountain much frequented by the sheep, such as Mount Grant on
the Wassuck Range to the west of Walker Lake. On some particular spot,
favorably situated with reference to the well-known trails of the sheep,
they built a high-walled corral, with long guiding wings diverging from
the gateway; and into this inclosure they sometimes succeeded in driving
the noble game. Great numbers of Indians were of course required, more,
indeed, than they could usually muster, counting in squaws, children,
and all; they were compelled, therefore, to build rows of dummy hunters
out of stones, along the ridge-tops which they wished to prevent the
sheep from crossing. And, without discrediting the sagacity of the game,
these dummies were found effective; for, with a few live Indians moving
about excitedly among them, they could hardly be distinguished at a
little distance from men, by any one not in the secret. The whole
ridge-top then seemed to be alive with hunters.
The only animal that may fairly be regarded as a companion or rival of
the sheep is the so-called Rocky Mountain goat (_Aplocerus montana_,
Rich.), which, as its name indicates, is more antelope than goat. He,
too, is a brave and hardy climber, fearlessly crossing the wildest
summits, and braving the severest storms, but he is shaggy, short-legged,
and much less dignified in demeanor than the sheep. His jet-black horns
are only about five or six inches in length, and the long, white hair
with which he is covered obscures the expression of his limbs. I have
never yet seen a single specimen in the Sierra, though possibly a few
flocks may have lived on Mount Shasta a comparatively short time ago.
The ranges of these two mountaineers are pretty distinct, and they see
but little of each other; the sheep being restricted mostly to the dry,
inland mountains; the goat or chamois to the wet, snowy glacier-laden
mountains of the northwest coast of the continent in Oregon, Washington,
British Columbia, and Alaska. Probably more than 200 dwell on the icy,
volcanic cone of Mount Rainier; and while I was exploring the glaciers
of Alaska I saw flocks of these admirable mountaineers nearly every day,
and often followed their trails through the mazes of bewildering
crevasses, in which they are excellent guides.
Three species of deer are found in California,--the black-tailed,
white-tailed, and mule deer. The first mentioned (_Cervus Columbianus_)
is by far the most abundant, and occasionally meets the sheep during
the summer on high glacier meadows, and along the edge of the timber
line; but being a forest animal, seeking shelter and rearing its young
in dense thickets, it seldom visits the wild sheep in its higher homes.
The antelope, though not a mountaineer, is occasionally met in winter
by the sheep while feeding along the edges of the sage-plains and bare
volcanic hills to the east of the Sierra. So also is the mule deer,
which is almost restricted in its range to this eastern region. The
white-tailed species belongs to the coast ranges.
Perhaps no wild animal in the world is without enemies, but highlanders,
as a class, have fewer than lowlanders. The wily panther, slipping and
crouching among long grass and bushes, pounces upon the antelope and
deer, but seldom crosses the bald, craggy thresholds of the sheep.
Neither can the bears be regarded as enemies; for, though they seek to
vary their every-day diet of nuts and berries by an occasional meal of
mutton, they prefer to hunt tame and helpless flocks. Eagles and
coyotes, no doubt, capture an unprotected lamb at times, or some
unfortunate beset in deep, soft snow, but these cases are little more
than accidents. So, also, a few perish in long-continued snow-storms,
though, in all my mountaineering, I have not found more than five or six
that seemed to have met their fate in this way. A little band of three
were discovered snow-bound in Bloody Canon a few years ago, and were
killed with an ax by mountaineers, who chanced to be crossing the range
Man is the most dangerous enemy of all, but even from him our brave
mountain-dweller has little to fear in the remote solitudes of the High
Sierra. The golden plains of the Sacramento and San Joaquin were lately
thronged with bands of elk and antelope, but, being fertile and
accessible, they were required for human pastures. So, also, are many of
the feeding-grounds of the deer--hill, valley, forest, and meadow--but
it will be long before man will care to take the highland castles of the
sheep. And when we consider here how rapidly entire species of noble
animals, such as the elk, moose, and buffalo, are being pushed to the
very verge of extinction, all lovers of wildness will rejoice with me in
the rocky security of _Ovis montana_, the bravest of all the Sierra
mountaineers.
[1] Pacific Railroad Survey, Vol. VIII, page 678.
[2] Audubon and Bachman's "Quadrupeds of North America."
IN THE SIERRA FOOT-HILLS
Murphy's camp is a curious old mining-town in Calaveras County, at an
elevation of 2400 feet above the sea, situated like a nest in the center
of a rough, gravelly region, rich in gold. Granites, slates, lavas,
limestone, iron ores, quartz veins, auriferous gravels, remnants of dead
fire-rivers and dead water-rivers are developed here side by side within
a radius of a few miles, and placed invitingly open before the student
like a book, while the people and the region beyond the camp furnish
mines of study of never-failing interest and variety.
When I discovered this curious place, I was tracing the channels of the
ancient pre-glacial rivers, instructive sections of which have been laid
bare here and in the adjacent regions by the miners. Rivers, according
to the poets, "go on forever"; but those of the Sierra are young as yet
and have scarcely learned the way down to the sea; while at least one
generation of them have died and vanished together with most of the
basins they drained. All that remains of them to tell their history is a
series of interrupted fragments of channels, mostly choked with gravel,
and buried beneath broad, thick sheets of lava. These are known as the
"Dead Rivers of California," and the gravel deposited in them is
comprehensively called the "Blue Lead." In some places the channels of
the present rivers trend in the same direction, or nearly so, as those
of the ancient rivers; but, in general, there is little correspondence
between them, the entire drainage having been changed, or, rather, made
new. Many of the hills of the ancient landscapes have become hollows,
and the old hollows have become hills. Therefore the fragmentary
channels, with their loads of auriferous gravel, occur in all kinds of
unthought-of places, trending obliquely, or even at right angles to the
present drainage, across the tops of lofty ridges or far beneath them,
presenting impressive illustrations of the magnitude of the changes
accomplished since those ancient streams were annihilated. The last
volcanic period preceding the regeneration of the Sierra landscapes
seems to have come on over all the range almost simultaneously, like the
glacial period, notwithstanding lavas of different age occur together in
many places, indicating numerous periods of activity in the Sierra
fire-fountains. The most important of the ancient river-channels in this
region is a section that extends from the south side of the town beneath
Coyote Creek and the ridge beyond it to the Canon of the Stanislaus; but
on account of its depth below the general surface of the present valleys
the rich gold gravels it is known to contain cannot be easily worked on
a large scale. Their extraordinary richness may be inferred from the
fact that many claims were profitably worked in them by sinking shafts
to a depth of 200 feet or more, and hoisting the dirt by a windlass.
Should the dip of this ancient channel be such as to make the Stanislaus
Canon available as a dump, then the grand deposit might be worked by the
hydraulic method, and although a long, expensive tunnel would be
required, the scheme might still prove profitable, for there is
"millions in it."
The importance of these ancient gravels as gold fountains is well known
to miners. Even the superficial placers of the present streams have
derived much of their gold from them. According to all accounts, the
Murphy placers have been very rich--"terrific rich," as they say here.
The hills have been cut and scalped, and every gorge and gulch and
valley torn to pieces and disemboweled, expressing a fierce and
desperate energy hard to understand. Still, any kind of effort-making is
better than inaction, and there is something sublime in seeing men
working in dead earnest at anything, pursuing an object with
glacier-like energy and persistence. Many a brave fellow has recorded a
most eventful chapter of life on these Calaveras rocks. But most of the
pioneer miners are sleeping now, their wild day done, while the few
survivors linger languidly in the washed-out gulches or sleepy village
like harried bees around the ruins of their hive. "We have no industry
left _now_," they told me, "and no men; everybody and everything
hereabouts has gone to decay. We are only bummers--out of the game, a
thin scatterin' of poor, dilapidated cusses, compared with what we used
to be in the grand old gold-days. We were giants then, and you can look
around here and see our tracks." But although these lingering pioneers
are perhaps more exhausted than the mines, and about as dead as the dead
rivers, they are yet a rare and interesting set of men, with much gold
mixed with the rough, rocky gravel of their characters; and they
manifest a breeding and intelligence little looked for in such
surroundings as theirs. As the heavy, long-continued grinding of the
glaciers brought out the features of the Sierra, so the intense
experiences of the gold period have brought out the features of these
old miners, forming a richness and variety of character little known as
yet. The sketches of Bret Harte, Hayes, and Miller have not exhausted
this field by any means. It is interesting to note the extremes possible
in one and the same character: harshness and gentleness, manliness and
childishness, apathy and fierce endeavor. Men who, twenty years ago,
would not cease their shoveling to save their lives, now play in the
streets with children. Their long, Micawber-like waiting after the
exhaustion of the placers has brought on an exaggerated form of dotage.
I heard a group of brawny pioneers in the street eagerly discussing the
quantity of tail required for a boy's kite; and one graybeard undertook
the sport of flying it, volunteering the information that he was a boy,
"always was a boy, and d--n a man who was not a boy inside, however
ancient outside!" Mines, morals, politics, the immortality of the soul,
etc., were discussed beneath shade-trees and in saloons, the time for
each being governed apparently by the temperature. Contact with Nature,
and the habits of observation acquired in gold-seeking, had made them
all, to some extent, collectors, and, like wood-rats, they had gathered
all kinds of odd specimens into their cabins, and now required me to
examine them. They were themselves the oddest and most interesting
specimens. One of them offered to show me around the old diggings,
giving me fair warning before setting out that I might not like him,
"because," said he, "people say I'm eccentric. I notice everything, and
gather beetles and snakes and anything that's queer; and so some don't
like me, and call me eccentric. I'm always trying to find out things.
Now, there's a weed; the Indians eat it for greens. What do you call
those long-bodied flies with big heads?" "Dragon-flies," I suggested.
"Well, their jaws work sidewise, instead of up and down, and
grasshoppers' jaws work the same way, and therefore I think they are the
same species. I always notice everything like that, and just because I
do, they say I'm eccentric," etc.
Anxious that I should miss none of the wonders of their old gold-field,
the good people had much to say about the marvelous beauty of Cave City
Cave, and advised me to explore it. This I was very glad to do, and
finding a guide who knew the way to the mouth of it, I set out from
Murphy the next morning.
The most beautiful and extensive of the mountain caves of California
occur in a belt of metamorphic limestone that is pretty generally
developed along the western flank of the Sierra from the McCloud River
on the north to the Kaweah on the south, a distance of over 400 miles,
at an elevation of from 2000 to 7000 feet above the sea. Besides this
regular belt of caves, the California landscapes are diversified by long
imposing ranks of sea-caves, rugged and variable in architecture, carved
in the coast headlands and precipices by centuries of wave-dashing; and
innumerable lava-caves, great and small, originating in the unequal
flowing and hardening of the lava sheets in which they occur, fine
illustrations of which are presented in the famous Modoc Lava Beds, and
around the base of icy Shasta. In this comprehensive glance we may also
notice the shallow wind-worn caves in stratified sandstones along the
margins of the plains; and the cave-like recesses in the Sierra slates
and granites, where bears and other mountaineers find shelter during the
fall of sudden storms. In general, however, the grand massive uplift of
the Sierra, as far as it has been laid-bare to observation, is about as
solid and caveless as a boulder.
Fresh beauty opens one's eyes wherever it is really seen, but the very
abundance and completeness of the common beauty that besets our steps
prevents its being absorbed and appreciated. It is a good thing,
therefore, to make short excursions now and then to the bottom of the
sea among dulse and coral, or up among the clouds on mountain-tops, or
in balloons, or even to creep like worms into dark holes and caverns
underground, not only to learn something of what is going on in those
out-of-the-way places, but to see better what the sun sees on our return
to common every-day beauty.
Our way from Murphy's to the cave lay across a series of picturesque,
moory ridges in the chaparral region between the brown foot-hills and
the forests, a flowery stretch of rolling hill-waves breaking here and
there into a kind of rocky foam on the higher summits, and sinking into
delightful bosky hollows embowered with vines. The day was a fine
specimen of California summer, pure sunshine, unshaded most of the time
by a single cloud. As the sun rose higher, the heated air began to flow
in tremulous waves from every southern slope. The sea-breeze that
usually comes up the foot-hills at this season, with cooling on its
wings, was scarcely perceptible. The birds were assembled beneath leafy
shade, or made short, languid flights in search of food, all save the
majestic buzzard; with broad wings outspread he sailed the warm air
unwearily from ridge to ridge, seeming to enjoy the fervid sunshine like
a butterfly. Squirrels, too, whose spicy ardor no heat or cold may
abate, were nutting among the pines, and the innumerable hosts of the
insect kingdom were throbbing and wavering unwearied as sunbeams.
This brushy, berry-bearing region used to be a deer and bear pasture,
but since the disturbances of the gold period these fine animals have
almost wholly disappeared. Here, also, once roamed the mastodon and
elephant, whose bones are found entombed in the river gravels and
beneath thick folds of lava. Toward noon, as we were riding slowly over
bank and brae, basking in the unfeverish sun-heat, we witnessed the
upheaval of a new mountain-range, a Sierra of clouds abounding in
landscapes as truly sublime and beautiful--if only we have a mind to
think so and eyes to see--as the more ancient rocky Sierra beneath it,
with its forests and waterfalls; reminding us that, as there is a lower
world of caves, so, also, there is an upper world of clouds. Huge, bossy
cumuli developed with astonishing rapidity from mere buds, swelling with
visible motion into colossal mountains, and piling higher, higher, in
long massive ranges, peak beyond peak, dome over dome, with many a
picturesque valley and shadowy cave between; while the dark firs and
pines of the upper benches of the Sierra were projected against their
pearl bosses with exquisite clearness of outline. These cloud mountains
vanished in the azure as quickly as they were developed, leaving no
detritus; but they were not a whit less real or interesting on this
account. The more enduring hills over which we rode were vanishing as
surely as they, only not so fast, a difference which is great or small
according to the standpoint from which it is contemplated.
At the bottom of every dell we found little homesteads embosomed in wild
brush and vines wherever the recession of the hills left patches of
arable ground. These secluded flats are settled mostly by Italians and
Germans, who plant a few vegetables and grape-vines at odd times, while
their main business is mining and prospecting. In spite of all the
natural beauty of these dell cabins, they can hardly be called homes.
They are only a better kind of camp, gladly abandoned whenever the
hoped-for gold harvest has been gathered. There is an air of profound
unrest and melancholy about the best of them. Their beauty is thrust
upon them by exuberant Nature, apart from which they are only a few logs
and boards rudely jointed and without either ceiling or floor, a rough
fireplace with corresponding cooking utensils, a shelf-bed, and stool.
The ground about them is strewn with battered prospecting-pans, picks,
sluice-boxes, and quartz specimens from many a ledge, indicating the
trend of their owners' hard lives.
The ride from Murphy's to the cave is scarcely two hours long, but we
lingered among quartz-ledges and banks of dead river gravel until long
after noon. At length emerging from a narrow-throated gorge, a small
house came in sight set in a thicket of fig-trees at the base of a
limestone hill. "That," said my guide, pointing to the house, "is Cave
City, and the cave is in that gray hill." Arriving at the one house of
this one-house city, we were boisterously welcomed by three drunken men
who had come to town to hold a spree. The mistress of the house tried to
keep order, and in reply to our inquiries told us that the cave guide
was then in the cave with a party of ladies. "And must we wait until he
returns?" we asked. No, that was unnecessary; we might take candles and
go into the cave alone, provided we shouted from time to time so as to
be found by the guide, and were careful not to fall over the rocks or
into the dark pools. Accordingly taking a trail from the house, we were
led around the base of the hill to the mouth of the cave, a small
inconspicuous archway, mossy around the edges and shaped like the door
of a water-ouzel's nest, with no appreciable hint or advertisement of
the grandeur of the many crystal chambers within. Lighting our candles,
which seemed to have no illuminating power in the thick darkness, we
groped our way onward as best we could along narrow lanes and alleys,
from chamber to chamber, around rustic columns and heaps of fallen
rocks, stopping to rest now and then in particularly beautiful
places--fairy alcoves furnished with admirable variety of shelves and
tables, and round bossy stools covered with sparkling crystals. Some of
the corridors were muddy, and in plodding along these we seemed to be in
the streets of some prairie village in spring-time. Then we would come
to handsome marble stairways conducting right and left into upper
chambers ranged above one another three or four stories high, floors,
ceilings, and walls lavishly decorated with innumerable crystalline
forms. After thus wandering exploringly, and alone for a mile or so,
fairly enchanted, a murmur of voices and a gleam of light betrayed the
approach of the guide and his party, from whom, when they came up, we
received a most hearty and natural stare, as we stood half concealed in
a side recess among stalagmites. I ventured to ask the dripping,
crouching company how they had enjoyed their saunter, anxious to learn
how the strange sunless scenery of the underworld had impressed them.
"Ah, it's nice! It's splendid!" they all replied and echoed. "The Bridal
Chamber back here is just glorious! This morning we came down from the
Calaveras Big Tree Grove, and the trees are nothing to it." After making
this curious comparison they hastened sunward, the guide promising to
join us shortly on the bank of a deep pool, where we were to wait for
him. This is a charming little lakelet of unknown depth, never yet
stirred by a breeze, and its eternal calm excites the imagination even
more profoundly than the silvery lakes of the glaciers rimmed with
meadows and snow and reflecting sublime mountains.
Our guide, a jolly, rollicking Italian, led us into the heart of the
hill, up and down, right and left, from chamber to chamber more and more
magnificent, all a-glitter like a glacier cave with icicle-like
stalactites and stalagmites combined in forms of indescribable beauty.
We were shown one large room that was occasionally used as a
dancing-hall; another that was used as a chapel, with natural pulpit and
crosses and pews, sermons in every stone, where a priest had said mass.
Mass-saying is not so generally developed in connection with natural
wonders as dancing. One of the first conceits excited by the giant
Sequoias was to cut one of them down and dance on its stump. We have
also seen dancing in the spray of Niagara; dancing in the famous Bower
Cave above Coulterville; and nowhere have I seen so much dancing as in
Yosemite. A dance on the inaccessible South Dome would likely follow the
making of an easy way to the top of it.
It was delightful to witness here the infinite deliberation of Nature,
and the simplicity of her methods in the production of such mighty
results, such perfect repose combined with restless enthusiastic energy.
Though cold and bloodless as a landscape of polar ice, building was
going on in the dark with incessant activity. The archways and ceilings
were everywhere hung with down-growing crystals, like inverted groves of
leafless saplings, some of them large, others delicately attenuated,
each tipped with a single drop of water, like the terminal bud of a
pine-tree. The only appreciable sounds were the dripping and tinkling of
water failing into pools or faintly plashing on the crystal floors.
In some places the crystal decorations are arranged in graceful flowing
folds deeply plicated like stiff silken drapery. In others straight
lines of the ordinary stalactite forms are combined with reference to
size and tone in a regularly graduated system like the strings of a harp
with musical tones corresponding thereto; and on these stone harps we
played by striking the crystal strings with a stick. The delicious
liquid tones they gave forth seemed perfectly divine as they sweetly
whispered and wavered through the majestic halls and died away in
faintest cadence,--the music of fairy-land. Here we lingered and
reveled, rejoicing to find so much music in stony silence, so much
splendor in darkness, so many mansions in the depths of the mountains,
buildings ever in process of construction, yet ever finished, developing
from perfection to perfection, profusion without overabundance; every
particle visible or invisible in glorious motion, marching to the music
of the spheres in a region regarded as the abode of eternal stillness
The outer chambers of mountain caves are frequently selected as homes by
wild beasts. In the Sierra, however, they seem to prefer homes and
hiding-places in chaparral and beneath shelving precipices, as I have
never seen their tracks in any of the caves. This is the more remarkable
because notwithstanding the darkness and oozing water there is nothing
uncomfortably cellar-like or sepulchral about them.
When we emerged into the bright landscapes of the sun everything looked
brighter, and we felt our faith in Nature's beauty strengthened, and saw
more clearly that beauty is universal and immortal, above, beneath, on
land and sea, mountain and plain, in heat and cold, light and darkness.
THE BEE-PASTURES
When California was wild, it was one sweet bee-garden throughout its
entire length, north and south, and all the way across from the snowy
Sierra to the ocean.
Wherever a bee might fly within the bounds of this virgin
wilderness--through the redwood forests, along the banks of the rivers,
along the bluffs and headlands fronting the sea, over valley and plain,
park and grove, and deep, leafy glen, or far up the piny slopes of the
mountains--throughout every belt and section of climate up to the timber
line, bee-flowers bloomed in lavish, abundance. Here they grew more or
less apart in special sheets and patches of no great size, there in
broad, flowing folds hundreds of miles in length--zones of polleny
forests, zones of flowery chaparral, stream-tangles of rubus and wild
rose, sheets of golden composite, beds of violets, beds of mint, beds of
bryanthus and clover, and so on, certain species blooming somewhere all
the year round.
But of late years plows and sheep have made sad havoc in these glorious
pastures, destroying tens of thousands of the flowery acres like a fire,
and banishing many species of the best honey-plants to rocky cliffs and
fence-corners, while, on the other hand, cultivation thus far has given
no adequate compensation, at least in kind; only acres of alfalfa for
miles of the richest wild pasture, ornamental roses and honeysuckles
around cottage doors for cascades of wild roses in the dells, and small,
square orchards and orange-groves for broad mountain-belts of chaparral.
The Great Central Plain of California, during the months of March,
April, and May, was one smooth, continuous bed of honey-bloom, so
marvelously rich that, in walking from one end of it to the other, a
distance of more than 400 miles, your foot would press about a hundred
flowers at every step. Mints, gilias, nemophilas, castilleias, and
innumerable compositae were so crowded together that, had ninety-nine
per cent. of them been taken away, the plain would still have seemed to
any but Californians extravagantly flowery. The radiant, honeyful
corollas, touching and overlapping, and rising above one another, glowed
in the living light like a sunset sky--one sheet of purple and gold,
with the bright Sacramento pouring through the midst of it from the
north, the San Joaquin from the south, and their many tributaries
sweeping in at right angles from the mountains, dividing the plain into
sections fringed with trees.
Along the rivers there is a strip of bottom-land, countersunk beneath
the general level, and wider toward the foot-hills, where magnificent
oaks, from three to eight feet in diameter, cast grateful masses of
shade over the open, prairie-like levels. And close along the water's
edge there was a fine jungle of tropical luxuriance, composed of
wild-rose and bramble bushes and a great variety of climbing vines,
wreathing and interlacing the branches and trunks of willows and alders,
and swinging across from summit to summit in heavy festoons. Here the
wild bees reveled in fresh bloom long after the flowers of the drier
plain had withered and gone to seed. And in midsummer, when the
"blackberries" were ripe, the Indians came from the mountains to
feast--men, women, and babies in long, noisy trains, often joined by the
farmers of the neighborhood, who gathered this wild fruit with
commendable appreciation of its superior flavor, while their home
orchards were full of ripe peaches, apricots, nectarines, and figs, and
their vineyards were laden with grapes. But, though these luxuriant,
shaggy river-beds were thus distinct from the smooth, treeless plain,
they made no heavy dividing lines in general views. The whole appeared
as one continuous sheet of bloom bounded only by the mountains.
When I first saw this central garden, the most extensive and regular of
all the bee-pastures of the State, it seemed all one sheet of plant
gold, hazy and vanishing in the distance, distinct as a new map along
the foot-hills at my feet.
Descending the eastern slopes of the Coast Range through beds of gilias
and lupines, and around many a breezy hillock and bush-crowned headland,
I at length waded out into the midst of it. All the ground was covered,
not with grass and green leaves, but with radiant corollas, about
ankle-deep next the foot-hills, knee-deep or more five or six miles out.
Here were bahia, madia, madaria, burrielia, chrysopsis, corethrogyne,
grindelia, etc., growing in close social congregations of various shades
of yellow, blending finely with the purples of clarkia, orthocarpus, and
oenothera, whose delicate petals were drinking the vital sunbeams
without giving back any sparkling glow.
[Illustration: A BEE-RANCH IN LOWER CALIFORNIA.]
Because so long a period of extreme drought succeeds the rainy season,
most of the vegetation is composed of annuals, which spring up
simultaneously, and bloom together at about the same height above the
ground, the general surface being but slightly ruffled by the taller
phacelias, pentstemons, and groups of _Salvia carduacea_, the king of
Sauntering in any direction, hundreds of these happy sun-plants brushed
against my feet at every step, and closed over them as if I were wading
in liquid gold. The air was sweet with fragrance, the larks sang their
blessed songs, rising on the wing as I advanced, then sinking out of
sight in the polleny sod, while myriads of wild bees stirred the lower
air with their monotonous hum--monotonous, yet forever fresh and sweet
as every-day sunshine. Hares and spermophiles showed themselves in
considerable numbers in shallow places, and small bands of antelopes
were almost constantly in sight, gazing curiously from some slight
elevation, and then bounding swiftly away with unrivaled grace of
motion. Yet I could discover no crushed flowers to mark their track,
nor, indeed, any destructive action of any wild foot or tooth whatever.
The great yellow days circled by uncounted, while I drifted toward the
north, observing the countless forms of life thronging about me, lying
down almost anywhere on the approach of night. And what glorious
botanical beds I had! Oftentimes on awaking I would find several new
species leaning over me and looking me full in the face, so that my
studies would begin before rising.
About the first of May I turned eastward, crossing the San Joaquin River
between the mouths of the Tuolumne and Merced, and by the time I had
reached the Sierra foot-hills most of the vegetation had gone to seed
and become as dry as hay.
All the seasons of the great plain are warm or temperate, and
bee-flowers are never wholly wanting; but the grand springtime--the
annual resurrection--is governed by the rains, which usually set in
about the middle of November or the beginning of December. Then the
seeds, that for six months have lain on the ground dry and fresh as if
they had been gathered into barns, at once unfold their treasured life.
The general brown and purple of the ground, and the dead vegetation of
the preceding year, give place to the green of mosses and liverworts and
myriads of young leaves. Then one species after another comes into
flower, gradually overspreading the green with yellow and purple, which
lasts until May.
The "rainy season" is by no means a gloomy, soggy period of constant
cloudiness and rain. Perhaps nowhere else in North America, perhaps in
the world, are the months of December, January, February, and March so
full of bland, plant-building sunshine. Referring to my notes of the
winter and spring of 1868-69, every day of which I spent out of doors,
on that section of the plain lying between the Tuolumne and Merced
rivers, I find that the first rain of the season fell on December 18th.
January had only six rainy days--that is, days on which rain fell;
February three, March five, April three, and May three, completing the
so-called rainy season, which was about an average one. The ordinary
rain-storm of this region is seldom very cold or violent. The winds,
which in settled weather come from the northwest, veer round into the
opposite direction, the sky fills gradually and evenly with one general
cloud, from which, the rain falls steadily, often for days in
succession, at a temperature of about 45 deg. or 50 deg..
More than seventy-five per cent. of all the rain of this season came
from the northwest, down the coast over southeastern Alaska, British
Columbia, Washington, and Oregon, though the local winds of these
circular storms blow from the southeast. One magnificent local storm
from the northwest fell on March 21. A massive, round-browed cloud came
swelling and thundering over the flowery plain in most imposing majesty,
its bossy front burning white and purple in the full blaze of the sun,
while warm rain poured from its ample fountains like a cataract, beating
down flowers and bees, and flooding the dry watercourses as suddenly as
those of Nevada are flooded by the so-called "cloudbursts." But in less
than half an hour not a trace of the heavy, mountain-like cloud-structure
was left in the sky, and the bees were on the wing, as if nothing more
gratefully refreshing could have been sent them.
By the end of January four species of plants were in flower, and five or
six mosses had already adjusted their hoods and were in the prime of
life; but the flowers were not sufficiently numerous as yet to affect
greatly the general green of the young leaves. Violets made their
appearance in the first week of February, and toward the end of this
month the warmer portions of the plain were already golden with myriads
of the flowers of rayed composite.
This was the full springtime. The sunshine grew warmer and richer, new
plants bloomed every day; the air became more tuneful with humming
wings, and sweeter with the fragrance of the opening flowers. Ants and
ground squirrels were getting ready for their summer work, rubbing their
benumbed limbs, and sunning themselves on the husk-piles before their
doors, and spiders were busy mending their old webs, or weaving new
In March, the vegetation was more than doubled in depth and color;
claytonia, calandrinia, a large white gilia, and two nemophilas were in
bloom, together with a host of yellow composite, tall enough now to bend
in the wind and show wavering ripples of shade.
In April, plant-life, as a whole, reached its greatest height, and the
plain, over all its varied surface, was mantled with a close, furred
plush of purple and golden corollas. By the end of this month, most of
the species had ripened their seeds, but undecayed, still seemed to be
in bloom from the numerous corolla-like involucres and whorls of chaffy
scales of the composite. In May, the bees found in flower only a few
deep-set liliaceous plants and eriogonums.
June, July, August, and September is the season of rest and sleep,--a
winter of dry heat,--followed in October by a second outburst of bloom
at the very driest time of the year. Then, after the shrunken mass of
leaves and stalks of the dead vegetation crinkle and turn to dust
beneath the foot, as if it had been baked in an oven, _Hemizonia
virgata_, a slender, unobtrusive little plant, from six inches to three
feet high, suddenly makes its appearance in patches miles in extent,
like a resurrection of the bloom of April. I have counted upward of 3000
flowers, five eighths of an inch in diameter, on a single plant. Both
its leaves and stems are so slender as to be nearly invisible, at a
distance of a few yards, amid so showy a multitude of flowers. The ray
and disk flowers are both yellow, the stamens purple, and the texture of
the rays is rich and velvety, like the petals of garden pansies. The
prevailing wind turns all the heads round to the southeast, so that in
facing northwestward we have the flowers looking us in the face. In my
estimation, this little plant, the last born of the brilliant host of
compositae that glorify the plain, is the most interesting of all. It
remains in flower until November, uniting with two or three species of
wiry eriogonums, which continue the floral chain around December to the
spring flowers of January. Thus, although the main bloom and honey
season is only about three months long, the floral circle, however thin
around some of the hot, rainless months, is never completely broken.
How long the various species of wild bees have lived in this
honey-garden, nobody knows; probably ever since the main body of the
present flora gained possession of the land, toward the close of the
glacial period. The first brown honey-bees brought to California are
said to have arrived in San Francisco in March, 1853. A bee-keeper by
the name of Shelton purchased a lot, consisting of twelve swarms, from
some one at Aspinwall, who had brought them from New York. When landed
at San Francisco, all the hives contained live bees, but they finally
dwindled to one hive, which was taken to San Jose. The little immigrants
flourished and multiplied in the bountiful pastures of the Santa Clara
Valley, sending off three swarms the first season. The owner was killed
shortly afterward, and in settling up his estate, two of the swarms were
sold at auction for $105 and $110 respectively. Other importations were
made, from time to time, by way of the Isthmus, and, though great pains
were taken to insure success, about one half usually died on the way.
Four swarms were brought safely across the plains in 1859, the hives
being placed in the rear end of a wagon, which was stopped in the
afternoon to allow the bees to fly and feed in the floweriest places
that were within reach until dark, when the hives were closed.
In 1855, two years after the time of the first arrivals from New York, a
single swarm was brought over from San Jose, and let fly in the Great
Central Plain. Bee-culture, however, has never gained much attention
here, notwithstanding the extraordinary abundance of honey-bloom, and
the high price of honey during the early years. A few hives are found
here and there among settlers who chanced to have learned something
about the business before coming to the State. But sheep, cattle, grain,
and fruit raising are the chief industries, as they require less skill
and care, while the profits thus far have been greater. In 1856 honey
sold here at from one and a half to two dollars per pound. Twelve years
later the price had fallen to twelve and a half cents. In 1868 I sat
down to dinner with a band of ravenous sheep-shearers at a ranch on the
San Joaquin, where fifteen or twenty hives were kept, and our host
advised us not to spare the large pan of honey he had placed on the
table, as it was the cheapest article he had to offer. In all my walks,
however, I have never come upon a regular bee-ranch in the Central
Valley like those so common and so skilfully managed in the southern
counties of the State. The few pounds of honey and wax produced are
consumed at home, and are scarcely taken into account among the coarser
products of the farm. The swarms that escape from their careless owners
have a weary, perplexing time of it in seeking suitable homes. Most of
them make their way to the foot-hills of the mountains, or to the trees
that line the banks of the rivers, where some hollow log or trunk may be
found. A friend of mine, while out hunting on the San Joaquin, came upon
an old coon trap, hidden among some tall grass, near the edge of the
river, upon which he sat down to rest. Shortly afterward his attention
was attracted to a crowd of angry bees that were flying excitedly about
his head, when he discovered that he was sitting upon their hive, which
was found to contain more than 200 pounds of honey. Out in the broad,
swampy delta of the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers, the little
wanderers have been known to build their combs in a bunch of rushes, or
stiff, wiry grass, only slightly protected from the weather, and in
danger every spring of being carried away by floods. They have the
advantage, however, of a vast extent of fresh pasture, accessible only
to themselves.
The present condition of the Grand Central Garden is very different from
that we have sketched. About twenty years ago, when the gold placers had
been pretty thoroughly exhausted, the attention of fortune-seekers--not
home-seekers--was, in great part, turned away from the mines to the
fertile plains, and many began experiments in a kind of restless, wild
agriculture. A load of lumber would be hauled to some spot on the free
wilderness, where water could be easily found, and a rude box-cabin
built. Then a gang-plow was procured, and a dozen mustang ponies, worth
ten or fifteen dollars apiece, and with these hundreds of acres were
stirred as easily as if the land had been under cultivation for years,
tough, perennial roots being almost wholly absent. Thus a ranch was
established, and from these bare wooden huts, as centers of desolation,
the wild flora vanished in ever-widening circles. But the arch
destroyers are the shepherds, with their flocks of hoofed locusts,
sweeping over the ground like a fire, and trampling down every rod that
escapes the plow as completely as if the whole plain were a cottage
garden-plot without a fence. But notwithstanding these destroyers, a
thousand swarms of bees may be pastured here for every one now gathering
honey. The greater portion is still covered every season with a
repressed growth of bee-flowers, for most of the species are annuals,
and many of them are not relished by sheep or cattle, while the rapidity
of their growth enables them to develop and mature their seeds before
any foot has time to crush them. The ground is, therefore, kept sweet,
and the race is perpetuated, though only as a suggestive shadow of the
magnificence of its wildness.
The time will undoubtedly come when the entire area of this noble valley
will be tilled like a garden, when the fertilizing waters of the
mountains, now flowing to the sea, will be distributed to every acre,
giving rise to prosperous towns, wealth, arts, etc. Then, I suppose,
there will be few left, even among botanists, to deplore the vanished
primeval flora. In the mean time, the pure waste going on--the wanton
destruction of the innocents--is a sad sight to see, and the sun may
well be pitied in being compelled to look on.
The bee-pastures of the Coast Ranges last longer and are more varied
than those of the great plain, on account of differences of soil and
climate, moisture, and shade, etc. Some of the mountains are upward of
4000 feet in height, and small streams, springs, oozy bogs, etc., occur
in great abundance and variety in the wooded regions, while open parks,
flooded with sunshine, and hill-girt valleys lying at different
elevations, each with its own peculiar climate and exposure, possess the
required conditions for the development of species and families of
plants widely varied.
Next the plain there is, first, a series of smooth hills, planted with a
rich and showy vegetation that differs but little from that of the plain
itself--as if the edge of the plain had been lifted and bent into
flowing folds, with all its flowers in place, only toned down a little
as to their luxuriance, and a few new species introduced, such as the
hill lupines, mints, and gilias. The colors show finely when thus held
to view on the slopes; patches of red, purple, blue, yellow, and white,
blending around the edges, the whole appearing at a little distance like
a map colored in sections.
Above this lies the park and chaparral region, with oaks, mostly
evergreen, planted wide apart, and blooming shrubs from three to ten
feet high; manzanita and ceanothus of several species, mixed with
rhamnus, cercis, pickeringia, cherry, amelanchier, and adenostoma, in
shaggy, interlocking thickets, and many species of hosackia, clover,
monardella, castilleia, etc., in the openings.
The main ranges send out spurs somewhat parallel to their axes,
inclosing level valleys, many of them quite extensive, and containing a
great profusion of sun-loving bee-flowers in their wild state; but these
are, in great part, already lost to the bees by cultivation.
Nearer the coast are the giant forests of the redwoods, extending from
near the Oregon line to Santa Cruz. Beneath the cool, deep shade of
these majestic trees the ground is occupied by ferns, chiefly woodwardia
and aspidiums, with only a few flowering plants--oxalis, trientalis,
erythronium, fritillaria, smilax, and other shade-lovers. But all along
the redwood belt there are sunny openings on hill-slopes looking to the
south, where the giant trees stand back, and give the ground to the
small sunflowers and the bees. Around the lofty redwood walls of these
little bee-acres there is usually a fringe of Chestnut Oak, Laurel, and
Madrono, the last of which is a surpassingly beautiful tree, and a great
favorite with the bees. The trunks of the largest specimens are seven or
eight feet thick, and about fifty feet high; the bark red and chocolate
colored, the leaves plain, large, and glossy, like those of _Magnolia
grandiflora_, while the flowers are yellowish-white, and urn-shaped, in
well-proportioned panicles, from five to ten inches long. When in full
bloom, a single tree seems to be visited at times by a whole hive of
bees at once, and the deep hum of such a multitude makes the listener
guess that more than the ordinary work of honey-winning must be going
How perfectly enchanting and care-obliterating are these withdrawn
gardens of the woods--long vistas opening to the sea--sunshine sifting
and pouring upon the flowery ground in a tremulous, shifting mosaic, as
the light-ways in the leafy wall open and close with the swaying
breeze--shining leaves and flowers, birds and bees, mingling together in
springtime harmony, and soothing fragrance exhaling from a thousand
thousand fountains! In these balmy, dissolving days, when the deep
heart-beats of Nature are felt thrilling rocks and trees and everything
alike, common business and friends are happily forgotten, and even the
natural honey-work of bees, and the care of birds for their young, and
mothers for their children, seem slightly out of place.
To the northward, in Humboldt and the adjacent counties, whole hillsides
are covered with rhododendron, making a glorious melody of bee-bloom in
the spring. And the Western azalea, hardly less flowery, grows in massy
thickets three to eight feet high around the edges of groves and woods
as far south as San Luis Obispo, usually accompanied by manzanita; while
the valleys, with their varying moisture and shade, yield a rich variety
of the smaller honey-flowers, such as mentha, lycopus, micromeria,
audibertia, trichostema, and other mints; with vaccinium, wild
strawberry, geranium, calais, and goldenrod; and in the cool glens along
the stream-banks, where the shade of trees is not too deep, spiraea,
dog-wood, heteromeles, and calycanthus, and many species of rubus form
interlacing tangles, some portion of which continues in bloom for
Though the coast region was the first to be invaded and settled by white
men, it has suffered less from a bee point of view than either of the
other main divisions, chiefly, no doubt, because of the unevenness of
the surface, and because it is owned and protected instead of lying
exposed to the flocks of the wandering "sheepmen." These remarks apply
more particularly to the north half of the coast. Farther south there is
less moisture, less forest shade, and the honey flora is less varied.
The Sierra region is the largest of the three main divisions of the
bee-lands of the State, and the most regularly varied in its
subdivisions, owing to their gradual rise from the level of the Central
Plain to the alpine summits. The foot-hill region is about as dry and
sunful, from the end of May until the setting in of the winter rains, as
the plain. There are no shady forests, no damp glens, at all like those
lying at the same elevations in the Coast Mountains. The social
compositae of the plain, with a few added species, form the bulk of the
herbaceous portion of the vegetation up to a height of 1500 feet or
more, shaded lightly here and there with oaks and Sabine Pines, and
interrupted by patches of ceanothus and buckeye. Above this, and just
below the forest region, there is a dark, heath-like belt of chaparral,
composed almost exclusively of _Adenostoma fasciculata_, a bush
belonging to the rose family, from five to eight feet high, with small,
round leaves in fascicles, and bearing a multitude of small white
flowers in panicles on the ends of the upper branches. Where it occurs
at all, it usually covers all the ground with a close, impenetrable
growth, scarcely broken for miles.
Up through the forest region, to a height of about 9000 feet above
sea-level, there are ragged patches of manzanita, and five or six
species of ceanothus, called deer-brush or California lilac. These are
the most important of all the honey-bearing bushes of the Sierra.
_Chamaebatia foliolosa_, a little shrub about a foot high, with flowers
like the strawberry, makes handsome carpets beneath the pines, and seems
to be a favorite with the bees; while pines themselves furnish unlimited
quantities of pollen and honey-dew. The product of a single tree,
ripening its pollen at the right time of year, would be sufficient for
the wants of a whole hive. Along the streams there is a rich growth of
lilies, larkspurs, pedicularis, castilleias, and clover. The alpine
region contains the flowery glacier meadows, and countless small gardens
in all sorts of places full of potentilla of several species, spraguea,
ivesia, epilobium, and goldenrod, with beds of bryanthus and the
charming cassiope covered with sweet bells. Even the tops of the
mountains are blessed with flowers,--dwarf phlox, polemonium, ribes,
hulsea, etc. I have seen wild bees and butterflies feeding at a height
of 13,000 feet above the sea. Many, however, that go up these dangerous
heights never come down again. Some, undoubtedly, perish in storms, and
I have found thousands lying dead or benumbed on the surface of the
glaciers, to which they had perhaps been attracted by the white glare,
taking them for beds of bloom.
From swarms that escaped their owners in the lowlands, the honey-bee is
now generally distributed throughout the whole length of the Sierra, up
to an elevation of 8000 feet above sea-level. At this height they
flourish without care, though the snow every winter is deep. Even higher
than this several bee-trees have been cut which contained over 200
pounds of honey.
The destructive action of sheep has not been so general on the mountain
pastures as on those of the great plain, but in many places it has been
more complete, owing to the more friable character of the soil, and its
sloping position. The slant digging and down-raking action of hoofs on
the steeper slopes of moraines has uprooted and buried many of the
tender plants from year to year, without allowing them time to mature
their seeds. The shrubs, too, are badly bitten, especially the various
species of ceanothus. Fortunately, neither sheep nor cattle care to feed
on the manzanita, spiraea, or adenostoma; and these fine honey-bushes
are too stiff and tall, or grow in places too rough and inaccessible, to
be trodden under foot. Also the canon walls and gorges, which form so
considerable a part of the area of the range, while inaccessible to
domestic sheep, are well fringed with honey-shrubs, and contain
thousands of lovely bee-gardens, lying hid in narrow side-canons and
recesses fenced with avalanche taluses, and on the top of flat,
projecting headlands, where only bees would think to look for them.
But, on the other hand, a great portion of the woody plants that escape
the feet and teeth of the sheep are destroyed by the shepherds by means
of running fires, which are set everywhere during the dry autumn for the
purpose of burning off the old fallen trunks and underbrush, with a view
to improving the pastures, and making more open ways for the flocks.
These destructive sheep-fires sweep through nearly the entire forest
belt of the range, from one extremity to the other, consuming not only
the underbrush, but the young trees and seedlings on which the
permanence of the forests depends; thus setting in motion a long train
of evils which will certainly reach far beyond bees and beekeepers.
[Illustration: WILD BEE GARDEN.]
The plow has not yet invaded the forest region to any appreciable
extent, neither has it accomplished much in the foot-hills. Thousands of
bee-ranches might be established along the margin of the plain, and up
to a height of 4000 feet, wherever water could be obtained. The climate
at this elevation admits of the making of permanent homes, and by moving
the hives to higher pastures as the lower pass out of bloom, the annual
yield of honey would be nearly doubled. The foot-hill pastures, as we
have seen, fail about the end of May, those of the chaparral belt and
lower forests are in full bloom in June, those of the upper and alpine
region in July, August, and September. In Scotland, after the best of
the Lowland bloom is past, the bees are carried in carts to the
Highlands, and set free on the heather hills. In France, too, and in
Poland, they are carried from pasture to pasture among orchards and
fields in the same way, and along the rivers in barges to collect the
honey of the delightful vegetation of the banks. In Egypt they are taken
far up the Nile, and floated slowly home again, gathering the
honey-harvest of the various fields on the way, timing their movements
in accord with the seasons. Were similar methods pursued in California
the productive season would last nearly all the year.
The average elevation of the north half of the Sierra is, as we have
seen, considerably less than that of the south half, and small streams,
with the bank and meadow gardens dependent upon them, are less abundant.
Around the head waters of the Yuba, Feather, and Pitt rivers, the
extensive tablelands of lava are sparsely planted with pines, through
which the sunshine reaches the ground with little interruption. Here
flourishes a scattered, tufted growth of golden applopappus, linosyris,
bahia, wyetheia, arnica, artemisia, and similar plants; with manzanita,
cherry, plum, and thorn in ragged patches on the cooler hill-slopes. At
the extremities of the Great Central Plain, the Sierra and Coast Ranges
curve around and lock together in a labyrinth of mountains and valleys,
throughout which their floras are mingled, making at the north, with its
temperate climate and copious rainfall, a perfect paradise for bees,
though, strange to say, scarcely a single regular bee-ranch has yet been
established in it.
Of all the upper flower fields of the Sierra, Shasta is the most
honeyful, and may yet surpass in fame the celebrated honey hills of
Hybla and hearthy Hymettus. Regarding this noble mountain from a bee
point of view, encircled by its many climates, and sweeping aloft from
the torrid plain into the frosty azure, we find the first 5000 feet from
the summit generally snow-clad, and therefore about as honeyless as the
sea. The base of this arctic region is girdled by a belt of crumbling
lava measuring about 1000 feet in vertical breadth, and is mostly free
from snow in summer. Beautiful lichens enliven the faces of the cliffs
with their bright colors, and in some of the warmer nooks there are a
few tufts of alpine daisies, wall-flowers and pentstemons; but,
notwithstanding these bloom freely in the late summer, the zone as a
whole is almost as honeyless as the icy summit, and its lower edge may
be taken as the honey-line. Immediately below this comes the forest
zone, covered with a rich growth of conifers, chiefly Silver Firs, rich
in pollen and honey-dew, and diversified with countless garden openings,
many of them less than a hundred yards across. Next, in orderly
succession, comes the great bee zone. Its area far surpasses that of the
icy summit and both the other zones combined, for it goes sweeping
majestically around the entire mountain, with a breadth of six or seven
miles and a circumference of nearly a hundred miles.
Shasta, as we have already seen, is a fire-mountain created by a
succession of eruptions of ashes and molten lava, which, flowing over
the lips of its several craters, grew outward and upward like the trunk
of a knotty exogenous tree. Then followed a strange contrast. The
glacial winter came on, loading the cooling mountain with ice, which
flowed slowly outward in every direction, radiating from the summit in
the form of one vast conical glacier--a down-crawling mantle of ice upon
a fountain of smoldering fire, crushing and grinding for centuries its
brown, flinty lavas with incessant activity, and thus degrading and
remodeling the entire mountain. When, at length, the glacial period
began to draw near its close, the ice-mantle was gradually melted off
around the bottom, and, in receding and breaking into its present
fragmentary condition, irregular rings and heaps of moraine matter were
stored upon its flanks. The glacial erosion of most of the Shasta lavas
produces detritus, composed of rough, sub-angular boulders of moderate
size and of porous gravel and sand, which yields freely to the
transporting power of running water. Magnificent floods from the ample
fountains of ice and snow working with sublime energy upon this prepared
glacial detritus, sorted it out and carried down immense quantities from
the higher slopes, and reformed it in smooth, delta-like beds around the
base; and it is these flood-beds joined together that now form the main
honey-zone of the old volcano.
Thus, by forces seemingly antagonistic and destructive, has Mother
Nature accomplished her beneficent designs--now a flood of fire, now a
flood of ice, now a flood of water; and at length an outburst of organic
life, a milky way of snowy petals and wings, girdling the rugged
mountain like a cloud, as if the vivifying sunbeams beating against its
sides had broken into a foam of plant-bloom and bees, as sea-waves break
and bloom on a rock shore.
In this flowery wilderness the bees rove and revel, rejoicing in the
bounty of the sun, clambering eagerly through bramble and hucklebloom,
ringing the myriad bells of the manzanita, now humming aloft among
polleny willows and firs, now down on the ashy ground among gilias and
buttercups, and anon plunging deep into snowy banks of cherry and
buckthorn. They consider the lilies and roll into them, and, like
lilies, they toil not, for they are impelled by sun-power, as
water-wheels by water-power; and when the one has plenty of
high-pressure water, the other plenty of sunshine, they hum and quiver
alike. Sauntering in the Shasta bee-lands in the sun-days of summer, one
may readily infer the time of day from the comparative energy of
bee-movements alone--drowsy and moderate in the cool of the morning,
increasing in energy with the ascending sun, and, at high noon,
thrilling and quivering in wild ecstasy, then gradually declining again
to the stillness of night. In my excursions among the glaciers I
occasionally meet bees that are hungry, like mountaineers who venture
too far and remain too long above the bread-line; then they droop and
wither like autumn leaves. The Shasta bees are perhaps better fed than
any others in the Sierra. Their field-work is one perpetual feast; but,
however exhilarating the sunshine or bountiful the supply of flowers,
they are always dainty feeders. Humming-moths and hummingbirds seldom
set foot upon a flower, but poise on the wing in front of it, and reach
forward as if they were sucking through straws. But bees, though, as
dainty as they, hug their favorite flowers with profound cordiality, and
push their blunt, polleny faces against them, like babies on their
mother's bosom. And fondly, too, with eternal love, does Mother Nature
clasp her small bee-babies, and suckle them, multitudes at once, on her
warm Shasta breast.
Besides the common honey-bee there are many other species here--fine
mossy, burly fellows, who were nourished on the mountains thousands of
sunny seasons before the advent of the domestic species. Among these are
the bumblebees, mason-bees, carpenter-bees, and leaf-cutters.
Butterflies, too, and moths of every size and pattern; some broad-winged
like bats, flapping slowly, and sailing in easy curves; others like
small, flying violets, shaking about loosely in short, crooked flights
close to the flowers, feasting luxuriously night and day. Great numbers
of deer also delight to dwell in the brushy portions of the
bee-pastures.
Bears, too, roam the sweet wilderness, their blunt, shaggy forms
harmonizing well with the trees and tangled bushes, and with the bees,
also, notwithstanding the disparity in size. They are fond of all good
things, and enjoy them to the utmost, with but little troublesome
discrimination--flowers and leaves as well as berries, and the bees
themselves as well as their honey. Though the California bears have as
yet had but little experience with honeybees, they often succeed in
reaching their bountiful stores, and it seems doubtful whether bees
themselves enjoy honey with so great a relish. By means of their
powerful teeth and claws they can gnaw and tear open almost any hive
conveniently accessible. Most honey-bees, however, in search of a home
are wise enough to make choice of a hollow in a living tree, a
considerable distance above the ground, when such places are to be had;
then they are pretty secure, for though the smaller black and brown
bears climb well, they are unable to break into strong hives while
compelled to exert themselves to keep from falling, and at the same time
to endure the stings of the fighting bees without having their paws free
to rub them off. But woe to the black bumblebees discovered in their
mossy nests in the ground! With a few strokes of their huge paws the
bears uncover the entire establishment, and, before time is given for a
general buzz, bees old and young, larvae, honey, stings, nest, and all
are taken in one ravishing mouthful.
Not the least influential of the agents concerned in the superior
sweetness of the Shasta flora are its storms--storms I mean that are
strictly local, bred and born on the mountain. The magical rapidity with
which they are grown on the mountain-top, and bestow their charity in
rain and snow, never fails to astonish the inexperienced lowlander.
Often in calm, glowing days, while the bees are still on the wing, a
storm-cloud may be seen far above in the pure ether, swelling its pearl
bosses, and growing silently, like a plant. Presently a clear, ringing
discharge of thunder is heard, followed by a rush of wind that comes
sounding over the bending woods like the roar of the ocean, mingling
raindrops, snow-flowers, honey-flowers, and bees in wild storm harmony.
Still more impressive are the warm, reviving days of spring in the
mountain pastures. The blood of the plants throbbing beneath the
life-giving sunshine seems to be heard and felt. Plant growth goes on
before our eyes, and every tree in the woods, and every bush and flower
is seen as a hive of restless industry. The deeps of the sky are mottled
with singing wings of every tone and color; clouds of brilliant
chrysididae dancing and swirling in exquisite rhythm, golden-barred
vespidae, dragon-flies, butterflies, grating cicadas, and jolly,
rattling grasshoppers, fairly enameling the light.
[Illustration: IN THE SAN GABRIEL VALLEY.--WHITE SAGE.]
On bright, crisp mornings a striking optical effect may frequently be
observed from the shadows of the higher mountains while the sunbeams are
pouring past overhead. Then every insect, no matter what may be its own
proper color, burns white in the light. Gauzy-winged hymenoptera,
moths, jet-black beetles, all are transfigured alike in pure, spiritual
white, like snowflakes.
In Southern California, where bee-culture has had so much skilful
attention of late years, the pasturage is not more abundant, or more
advantageously varied as to the number of its honey-plants and their
distribution over mountain and plain, than that of many other portions
of the State where the industrial currents flow in other channels. The
famous White Sage (_Audibertia_), belonging to the mint family,
flourishes here in all its glory, blooming in May, and yielding great
quantities of clear, pale honey, which is greatly prized in every market
it has yet reached. This species grows chiefly in the valleys and low
hills. The Black Sage on the mountains is part of a dense, thorny
chaparral, which is composed chiefly of adenostoma, ceanothus,
manzanita, and cherry--not differing greatly from that of the southern
portion of the Sierra, but more dense and continuous, and taller, and
remaining longer in bloom. Stream-side gardens, so charming a feature of
both the Sierra and Coast Mountains, are less numerous in Southern
California, but they are exceedingly rich in honey-flowers, wherever
found,--melilotus, columbine, collinsia, verbena, zauschneria, wild
rose, honeysuckle, philadelphus, and lilies rising from the warm, moist
dells in a very storm of exuberance. Wild buckwheat of many species is
developed in abundance over the dry, sandy valleys and lower slopes of
the mountains, toward the end of summer, and is, at this time, the main
dependence of the bees, reinforced here and there by orange groves,
alfalfa fields, and small home gardens.
The main honey months, in ordinary seasons, are April, May, June, July,
and August; while the other months are usually flowery enough to yield
sufficient for the bees.
According to Mr. J.T. Gordon, President of the Los Angeles County
Bee-keepers' Association, the first bees introduced into the county were
a single hive, which cost $150 in San Francisco, and arrived in
September, 1854.[1] In April, of the following year, this hive sent out
two swarms, which were sold for $100 each. From this small beginning the
bees gradually multiplied to about 3000 swarms in the year 1873. In 1876
it was estimated that there were between 15,000 and 20,000 hives in the
county, producing an annual yield of about 100 pounds to the hive--in
some exceptional cases, a much greater yield.
In San Diego County, at the beginning of the season of 1878, there were
about 24,000 hives, and the shipments from the one port of San Diego for
the same year, from July 17 to November 10, were 1071 barrels, 15,544
cases, and nearly 90 tons. The largest bee-ranches have about a thousand
hives, and are carefully and skilfully managed, every scientific
appliance of merit being brought into use. There are few bee-keepers,
however, who own half as many as this, or who give their undivided
attention to the business. Orange culture, at present, is heavily
overshadowing every other business.
A good many of the so-called bee-ranches of Los Angeles and San Diego
counties are still of the rudest pioneer kind imaginable. A man
unsuccessful in everything else hears the interesting story of the
profits and comforts of bee-keeping, and concludes to try it; he buys a
few colonies, or gets them, from some overstocked ranch on shares, takes
them back to the foot of some canon, where the pasturage is fresh,
squats on the land, with, or without, the permission of the owner, sets
up his hives, makes a box-cabin for himself, scarcely bigger than a
bee-hive, and awaits his fortune.
Bees suffer sadly from famine during the dry years which occasionally
occur in the southern and middle portions of the State. If the rainfall
amounts only to three or four inches, instead of from twelve to twenty,
as in ordinary seasons, then sheep and cattle die in thousands, and so
do these small, winged cattle, unless they are carefully fed, or removed
to other pastures. The year 1877 will long be remembered as
exceptionally rainless and distressing. Scarcely a flower bloomed on the
dry valleys away from the stream-sides, and not a single grain-field
depending upon rain was reaped. The seed only sprouted, came up a little
way, and withered. Horses, cattle, and sheep grew thinner day by day,
nibbling at bushes and weeds, along the shallowing edges of streams,
many of which were dried up altogether, for the first time since the
settlement of the country.
[Illustration: A BEE-RANCH ON A SPUR OF THE SAN GABRIEL RANGE. CARDINAL
In the course of a trip I made during the summer of that year through
Monterey, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Ventura, and Los Angeles
counties, the deplorable effects of the drought were everywhere
visible--leafless fields, dead and dying cattle, dead bees, and
half-dead people with dusty, doleful faces. Even the birds and squirrels
were in distress, though their suffering was less painfully apparent
than that of the poor cattle. These were falling one by one in slow,
sure starvation along the banks of the hot, sluggish streams, while
thousands of buzzards correspondingly fat were sailing above them, or
standing gorged on the ground beneath the trees, waiting with easy faith
for fresh carcasses. The quails, prudently considering the hard times,
abandoned all thought of pairing. They were too poor to marry, and so
continued in flocks all through the year without attempting to rear
young. The ground-squirrels, though an exceptionally industrious and
enterprising race, as every farmer knows, were hard pushed for a living;
not a fresh leaf or seed was to be found save in the trees, whose bossy
masses of dark green foliage presented a striking contrast to the ashen
baldness of the ground beneath them. The squirrels, leaving their
accustomed feeding-grounds, betook themselves to the leafy oaks to gnaw
out the acorn stores of the provident woodpeckers, but the latter kept
up a vigilant watch upon their movements. I noticed four woodpeckers in
league against one squirrel, driving the poor fellow out of an oak that
they claimed. He dodged round the knotty trunk from side to side, as
nimbly as he could in his famished condition, only to find a sharp bill
everywhere. But the fate of the bees that year seemed the saddest of
all. In different portions of Los Angeles and San Diego counties, from
one half to three fourths of them died of sheer starvation. Not less
than 18,000 colonies perished in these two counties alone, while in the
adjacent counties the death-rate was hardly less.
[Illustration: WILD BUCKWHEAT.--A BEE RANCH IN THE WILDERNESS.]
Even the colonies nearest to the mountains suffered this year, for the
smaller vegetation on the foot-hills was affected by the drought almost
as severely as that of the valleys and plains, and even the hardy,
deep-rooted chaparral, the surest dependence of the bees, bloomed
sparingly, while much of it was beyond reach. Every swarm could have
been saved, however, by promptly supplying them with food when their own
stores began to fail, and before they became enfeebled and discouraged;
or by cutting roads back into the mountains, and taking them into the
heart of the flowery chaparral. The Santa Lucia, San Rafael, San
Gabriel, San Jacinto, and San Bernardino ranges are almost untouched as
yet save by the wild bees. Some idea of their resources, and of the
advantages and disadvantages they offer to bee-keepers, may be formed
from an excursion that I made into the San Gabriel Range about the
beginning of August of "the dry year." This range, containing most of
the characteristic features of the other ranges just mentioned,
overlooks the Los Angeles vineyards and orange groves from the north,
and is more rigidly inaccessible in the ordinary meaning of the word
than any other that I ever attempted to penetrate. The slopes are
exceptionally steep and insecure to the foot, and they are covered with
thorny bushes from five to ten feet high. With the exception of little
spots not visible in general views, the entire surface is covered with
them, massed in close hedge growth, sweeping gracefully down into every
gorge and hollow, and swelling over every ridge and summit in shaggy,
ungovernable exuberance, offering more honey to the acre for half the
year than the most crowded clover-field. But when beheld from the open
San Gabriel Valley, beaten with dry sunshine, all that was seen of the
range seemed to wear a forbidding aspect. From base to summit all seemed
gray, barren, silent, its glorious chaparral appearing like dry moss
creeping over its dull, wrinkled ridges and hollows.
Setting out from Pasadena, I reached the foot of the range about
sundown; and being weary and heated with my walk across the shadeless
valley, concluded to camp for the night. After resting a few moments, I
began to look about among the flood-boulders of Eaton Creek for a
camp-ground, when I came upon a strange, dark-looking man who had been
chopping cord-wood. He seemed surprised at seeing me, so I sat down with
him on the live-oak log he had been cutting, and made haste to give a
reason for my appearance in his solitude, explaining that I was anxious
to find out something about the mountains, and meant to make my way up
Eaton Creek next morning. Then he kindly invited me to camp with him,
and led me to his little cabin, situated at the foot of the mountains,
where a small spring oozes out of a bank overgrown with wild-rose
bushes. After supper, when the daylight was gone, he explained that he
was out of candles; so we sat in the dark, while he gave me a sketch of
his life in a mixture of Spanish and English. He was born in Mexico, his
father Irish, his mother Spanish. He had been a miner, rancher,
prospector, hunter, etc., rambling always, and wearing his life away in
mere waste; but now he was going to settle down. His past life, he said,
was of "no account," but the future was promising. He was going to "make
money and marry a Spanish woman." People mine here for water as for
gold. He had been running a tunnel into a spur of the mountain back of
his cabin. "My prospect is good," he said, "and if I chance to strike a
good, strong flow, I'll soon be worth $5000 or $10,000. For that flat
out there," referring to a small, irregular patch of bouldery detritus,
two or three acres in size, that had been deposited by Eaton Creek
during some flood season,--"that flat is large enough for a nice
orange-grove, and the bank behind the cabin will do for a vineyard, and
after watering my own trees and vines I will have some water left to
sell to my neighbors below me, down the valley. And then," he continued,
"I can keep bees, and make money that way, too, for the mountains above
here are just full of honey in the summer-time, and one of my neighbors
down here says that he will let me have a whole lot of hives, on shares,
to start with. You see I've a good thing; I'm all right now." All this
prospective affluence in the sunken, boulder-choked flood-bed of a
mountain-stream! Leaving the bees out of the count, most fortune-seekers
would as soon think of settling on the summit of Mount Shasta. Next
morning, wishing my hopeful entertainer good luck, I set out on my
shaggy excursion.
[Illustration: A BEE-PASTURE ON THE MORAINE DESERT, SPANISH BAYONET.]
About half an hour's walk above the cabin, I came to "The Fall," famous
throughout the valley settlements as the finest yet discovered in the
San Gabriel Mountains. It is a charming little thing, with a low, sweet
voice, singing like a bird, as it pours from a notch in a short ledge,
some thirty-five or forty feet into a round mirror-pool. The face of the
cliff back of it, and on both sides, is smoothly covered and embossed
with mosses, against which the white water shines out in showy relief,
like a silver instrument in a velvet case. Hither come the San Gabriel
lads and lassies, to gather ferns and dabble away their hot holidays in
the cool water, glad to escape from their commonplace palm-gardens and
orange-groves. The delicate maidenhair grows on fissured rocks within
reach of the spray, while broad-leaved maples and sycamores cast soft,
mellow shade over a rich profusion of bee-flowers, growing among
boulders in front of the pool--the fall, the flowers, the bees, the
ferny rocks, and leafy shade forming a charming little poem of wildness,
the last of a series extending down the flowery slopes of Mount San
Antonio through the rugged, foam-beaten bosses of the main Eaton Canon.
From the base of the fall I followed the ridge that forms the western
rim of the Eaton basin to the summit of one of the principal peaks,
which is about 5000 feet above sea-level. Then, turning eastward, I
crossed the middle of the basin, forcing a way over its many subordinate
ridges and across its eastern rim, having to contend almost everywhere
with the floweriest and most impenetrable growth of honey-bushes I had
ever encountered since first my mountaineering began. Most of the Shasta
chaparral is leafy nearly to the ground; here the main stems are naked
for three or four feet, and interspiked with dead twigs, forming a stiff
_chevaux de frise_ through which even the bears make their way with
difficulty. I was compelled to creep for miles on all fours, and in
following the bear-trails often found tufts of hair on the bushes where
they had forced themselves through.
For 100 feet or so above the fall the ascent was made possible only by
tough cushions of club-moss that clung to the rock. Above this the ridge
weathers away to a thin knife-blade for a few hundred yards, and thence
to the summit of the range it carries a bristly mane of chaparral. Here
and there small openings occur on rocky places, commanding fine views
across the cultivated valley to the ocean. These I found by the tracks
were favorite outlooks and resting-places for the wild animals--bears,
wolves, foxes, wildcats, etc.--which abound here, and would have to be
taken into account in the establishment of bee-ranches. In the deepest
thickets I found wood-rat villages--groups of huts four to six feet
high, built of sticks and leaves in rough, tapering piles, like musk-rat
cabins. I noticed a good many bees, too, most of them wild. The tame
honey-bees seemed languid and wing-weary, as if they had come all the
way up from the flowerless valley.
After reaching the summit I had time to make only a hasty survey of the
basin, now glowing in the sunset gold, before hastening down into one of
the tributary canons in search, of water. Emerging from a particularly
tedious breadth of chaparral, I found myself free and erect in a
beautiful park-like grove of Mountain Live Oak, where the ground was
planted with aspidiums and brier-roses, while the glossy foliage made a
close canopy overhead, leaving the gray dividing trunks bare to show the
beauty of their interlacing arches. The bottom of the canon was dry
where I first reached it, but a bunch of scarlet mimulus indicated water
at no great distance, and I soon discovered about a bucketful in a
hollow of the rock. This, however, was full of dead bees, wasps,
beetles, and leaves, well steeped and simmered, and would, therefore,
require boiling and filtering through fresh charcoal before it could be
made available. Tracing the dry channel about a mile farther down to its
junction with a larger tributary canon, I at length discovered a lot of
boulder pools, clear as crystal, brimming full, and linked together by
glistening streamlets just strong enough to sing audibly. Flowers in
full bloom adorned their margins, lilies ten feet high, larkspur,
columbines, and luxuriant ferns, leaning and overarching in lavish
abundance, while a noble old Live Oak spread its rugged arms over all.
Here I camped, making my bed on smooth cobblestones.
[Illustration: A BEE-KEEPER'S CABIN.--BURRIELIA (ABOVE).--MADIA
Next day, in the channel of a tributary that heads on Mount San Antonio,
I passed about fifteen or twenty gardens like the one in which I
slept--lilies in every one of them, in the full pomp of bloom. My third
camp was made near the middle of the general basin, at the head of a
long system of cascades from ten to 200 feet high, one following the
other in close succession down a rocky, inaccessible canon, making a
total descent of nearly 1700 feet. Above the cascades the main stream
passes through a series of open, sunny levels, the largest of which are
about an acre in size, where the wild bees and their companions were
feasting on a showy growth of zauschneria, painted cups, and monardella;
and gray squirrels were busy harvesting the burs of the Douglas Spruce,
the only conifer I met in the basin.
The eastern slopes of the basin are in every way similar to those we
have described, and the same may be said of other portions of the range.
From the highest summit, far as the eye could reach, the landscape was
one vast bee-pasture, a rolling wilderness of honey-bloom, scarcely
broken by bits of forest or the rocky outcrops of hilltops and ridges.
Behind the San Bernardino Range lies the wild "sage-brush country,"
bounded on the east by the Colorado River, and extending in a general
northerly direction to Nevada and along the eastern base of the Sierra
beyond Mono Lake.
The greater portion of this immense region, including Owen's Valley,
Death Valley, and the Sink of the Mohave, the area of which is nearly
one fifth that of the entire State, is usually regarded as a desert, not
because of any lack in the soil, but for want of rain, and rivers
available for irrigation. Very little of it, however, is desert in the
eyes of a bee.
Looking now over all the available pastures of California, it appears
that the business of beekeeping is still in its infancy. Even in the
more enterprising of the southern counties, where so vigorous a
beginning has been made, less than a tenth of their honey resources have
as yet been developed; while in the Great Plain, the Coast Ranges, the
Sierra Nevada, and the northern region about Mount Shasta, the business
can hardly be said to exist at all. What the limits of its developments
in the future may be, with the advantages of cheaper transportation and
the invention of better methods in general, it is not easy to guess.
Nor, on the other hand, are we able to measure the influence on bee
interests likely to follow the destruction of the forests, now rapidly
falling before fire and the ax. As to the sheep evil, that can hardly
become greater than it is at the present day. In short, notwithstanding
the wide-spread deterioration and destruction of every kind already
effected, California, with her incomparable climate and flora, is still,
as far as I know, the best of all the bee-lands of the world.
[1] Fifteen hives of Italian bees were introduced into Los Angeles
County in 1855, and in 1876 they had increased to 500. The marked
superiority claimed for them over the common species is now attracting
considerable attention.
and PG Distributed Proofreaders
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SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
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  |                   BUTTON AND EYELET HOLES.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                       in all fabrics.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                Machine, with finely finished                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                 OILED WALNUT TABLE AND COVER                 |
  |                                                              |
  |  complete, $75. Same machine, without the buttonhole parts,  |
  | $60. This last is beyond all question the simplest, easiest  |
  |    to manage and to keep in order, of any machine in the     |
  |  market. Machines warranted, and full instruction given to   |
  |                         purchasers.                          |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                    HENRY SPEAR, PRINTER,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                        LITHOGRAPHER,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                          STATIONER.                          |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         J. NICKINSON                         |
  |                                                              |
  |              begs to announce to the friends of              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO"                         |
  |                                                              |
  | residing in the country, that, for their convenience, he has |
  |    made arrangements by which, on receipt of the price of    |
  |                                                              |
  |                 ANY STANDARD BOOK PUBLISHED,                 |
  |                                                              |
  |          the same will be forwarded, postage paid.           |
  |                                                              |
  | Parties desiring Catalogues of any of our Publishing Houses  |
  |     can have the same forwarded by inclosing two stamps.     |
  |                                                              |
  |                          OFFICE OF                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                  PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                      83 Nassau Street.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                       [P.O. Box 2783.]                       |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: AT THE MERCANTILE LIBRARY.
_Mr. Nottmuch_, (to Clerk in Library.) "I SEE BY YOUR CIRCULAR THAT
VISITORS OF DISTINCTION HAVE FREE ACCESS TO YOUR READING-ROOM, AND AS I
HAVE CONTRIBUTED A STORY TO THE 'WAYERLY MAGAZINE,'" etc.
_Nottmuch_, (having obtained access to the reading-room.) "A VERY PRETTY
GIRL, THAT SUPERINTENDENT! HAS SHE PERUSED MY STORY, OR DO I DAZZLE HER
WITH MY LOOKS? HA! SHE RISES!----."
_Lady Superintendent_. (blandly but firmly). "EXCUSE ME, SIR, BUT IT'S
AGAINST THE RULES FOR GENTLEMEN TO PLACE THEIR FEET ON CHAIRS."]
       *       *       *       *       *
HIGH NOTES BY OUR MUSICAL CRITIC.
PUNCHINELLO'S critic, always the friend of fair-play, resents the
insinuation that Mr. CARL ROSA has been a careless director of Opera.
The truth is that Mr. ROSA has not produced the smallest work without a
great deal of Preparation.
FLOTOW'S _Shadow_ is to be brought out in London. It will not stand the
ghost of a chance unless well mounted. Music light and sketchy;
remarkable for a Chorus of Fishermen, well known as the "Shad oh! song."
_Lohengrin_ has had a run of eight nights at Brussels, with average
receipts of little less than four thousand francs. This sort of tune is
the only one in the music of the Future which managers can understand.
Nevertheless Herr WAGNER is not out of spirits. Intent upon laying the
foundations of future wealth and fame, he can lay Low and Grin. Brussels
gold will serve him as well as _Rheingold_.
The difference between BACH'S music find a music-box is yet an unsettled
conundrum. Such is likely to be the fate of the question raised with so
much temper over the Passion Music of that great man by the English
critics. Shame on all critics that condemn MOZART as a fogy and BACH as
a nuisance. Of course it is going back on BACH with a vengeance, but
what sympathy can exist between the old fuguemakers and the modern
high-flyers?
       *       *       *       *       *
LATEST NEWS ITEMS.
A SHEFFIELD paper has been prosecuted for asserting that the Prince of
Wales was a fast young man. The prosecution was withdrawn as soon as the
editor confessed that the Prince was loose.
The Treasury Department is much distressed by the great genius for
smuggling displayed by the Chinese immigrants. They secrete opium in all
sorts of wonderful places, and so worry the custom-house officers
dreadfully. Several children have been arrested for bringing their
"poppies" over with them, and feeling in favor of the offenders ran so
high that a number of women were fined for having a share in laud'n'm.
The bull fights in London have come to a mournful conclusion. The bulls
refused to take part, and the principal combatant instead of being all
Matted O'er with the blood of his taurine victims, has been sent to
prison for trying to Pick a Door lock.
The Last of the Piegans is travelling East, on his way to Philadelphia,
to see "SHERIDAN'S Ride." He was away from home when PHILIP was there,
and is very anxious to know the young man when he sees him again. Hence
his laudable anxiety to study the picture.
The Fenian Army.
If the Fenians send an army to aid the Red river insurgents, it may
probably be the only "BIEL" work they will attempt this year.
       *       *       *       *       *
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.
       *       *       *       *       *
WHAT I KNOW ABOUT PROTECTION.
DEAR PUNCHINELLO: Having skilfully illuminated Free Trade, I now proceed
to elucidate Protection. You see when we reach Protection, the boot is
on the other leg; _you_ make the conundrums then, and the other man
tries to guess them. There are many kinds of protection; there's the
kind which a State's prison-keeper gives to one of his birds; the kind
which a black-and-tan terrier, or a freshly-imported Chinaman, extends
to a good fat rat; the kind which a pious young man offers to a fair and
tender damsel, when he places his arm around her dainty waist, and
gently absorbs the dew of innocence from her rosy lips, (that idea, is,
I think, plagiarized from TENNYSON,) and the kind which a delicate
mother-in-law, blessed with nerves, pours out upon her son-in-law. But I
leave the discussion of such things to weaker birds, and soar myself to
a higher kind, _i.e._, that Protection which is diametrically opposed to
Protection, in this sense, is--well, let me follow my own admirable
example, and illustrate: You own a coal mine in Pennsylvania, which
contains tolerably poor coal, with which you mix a proper amount of
stone, and then sell the mixture for a high price. ICHABOD BLUE-NOSE
owns a coal mine in Nova Scotia, which furnishes good coal; he puts no
slate in it, and yet sells it at a low figure. You reflect that with
such opposition you will never manage to dispose of all your stone, so
you apply to Congress, and have a high tariff put on coal. That's
Protection. Metaphysically defined, Protection is the natural right,
inherent in every American citizen, to obtain money in large quantities
for goods of small qualities.
Protection is not a natural production; it was invented about the time
taxes were, though it must be admitted that those very annoying articles
appeared very early in the history of the human race. I've no doubt that
ADAM levied taxes, though it's very doubtful if he could put as many
things in a tax levy as a New York politician can. Certainly there was a
very high tariff on apples in his day--so high that humanity has not yet
succeeded in paying off the duty on the one ADAM ate. ABRAHAM paid
taxes, and, as he was his own Senate and House, doubtless he passed a
tariff bill to suit himself, and had any quantity of Protection. I have
always regretted that NOAH didn't pass a bill protecting native
industry, because he could have enforced it, and had no wrangling about
There are one or two points about Protection which a wayfaring man, even
if people labor under the impression that he is a fool, can understand.
If you are JOHN SMITH and own a coal mine or an iron mill, you go to
Washington, see your Congressman, (by see I mean look at him, of
course,) donate large sums of money to certain poor, but honest men, who
adorn the lobby of the House, while they are waiting for generous
patrons like unto you, then go home and calmly await the result. Your
representative makes a speech, the exordium of which is Patriotism, the
peroration of which is Star-Spangled Banner, and the central plum of
which is your coal mine or iron mill. Your poor and honest friends wear
out several pairs of shoes, the tariff bill is passed, your mine or mill
is abundantly protected, and the country is saved. If, on the other
hand, you are JOHN BROWN, and raise cabbages and turnips on a farm, you
are allowed to pay high prices for SMITH'S coal or iron, but you expect
no Protection, and you've a sure thing of getting what you expect.
Of course you don't imagine that I shall explain the details of this
profound subject. There are only two men in this country who think they
can do that, and each one of those says that the other is an idiot. As a
rule, figures can't lie; but look out for the exceptions when you run
across the subject of Protection. The very same figures have an ugly way
of proving both sides of a question. You run down a fact, and think
you've got it, but, before you know it, it has slipped, like the "little
joker," over to the other side.
Personally, I am a Protectionist. Formerly I indulged in that monstrous
absurdity, Free Trade, but then I was an importer; now, being a
manufacturer, the scales have fallen from my eyes, and I am of the
straitest sect a Protectionist. You can't give me too much of it. Of
course I can't see why pig-iron should be protected, and pigs not. I
think every native production should be cared for, and that there should
be an excessively high tariff on foreign food. In that case poor REVERDY
JOHNSON would have been compelled to have passed a Lenten season at
Halifax, until he had eradicated from his system the rich English
dinners, before he could have entered this favored land. And
MOTLEY--bless me, he has eaten so much that I don't believe he could get
it out of his body if he fasted for the remainder of his natural life.
I am informed, however, that Protection does us one injury. All the
_World_ says that there is a Parsee in our land, who is loaded with
rupees, but who is unable to spend them here because of our protective
system, and what all the _World_ says, you know, must be true. However,
there are 40,000,000 of us, and, if Congress will make all Americans buy
my patent door-knobs, the Parsee can go to--Hindostan.
I don't think any thing more can be said about Protection. Any body who
doesn't understand it now had better go to Washington, and listen to the
debate on scrap-iron. That will sharpen his wits. Pig-iron, of course,
is interesting, but then that's a light and airy subject. Hear the
debate on scrap-iron, by all means.
       *       *       *       *       *
A LITERARY VAMPIRE.
No greater mistake was ever made than the supposition that PUNCHINELLO
is to be assailed with impunity by rival publications. It is well known
that he never courted controversies or quarrels, and his best friends
understand perfectly his love for a peaceable career. But when that
flippant sheet, known as _Rees's American Encyclopedia_, comes out with
a violent attack upon PUNCHINELLO'S past life and present course, the
assault is such as would provoke a retort from any honest man. The vile
insinuation that PUNCHINELLO is printed and published for the sole
purpose of making money out of its subscribers and the reading public in
general, is too mendacious for refutation; and when the reckless editor
of the periodical in question gravely announces that he can never read
PUNCHINELLO without laughing at its contents, it will be readily seen
that he goes so far as to make use of the truth to serve his wicked
purposes. But the descent which this shameless conductor of a journal,
confessedly the organ of our ignorant masses, has made into the private
life of PUNCHINELLO, is without precedent. He states that for the first
fourteen years of his life, PUNCHINELLO was, to all intents and
purposes, a person of little or no fortune, and that he depended
entirely upon his parents for support; that, until he had reached his
fifth birthday, he had absolutely no knowledge of English literature,
and was entirely ignorant of even the rudiments of the classics; that he
never paid one cent of income tax at that period of his life; and that
his belief in the fundamental principles of political economy was, at
that time, doubted by all who knew him best! Are such statements as
these to be submitted to by a man of honor? Never! PUNCHINELLO dares the
recreant editor of the dirty sheet to do his worst! Of that base man he
could tell much which would render him unfit for the association of any
person living, but he forbears. This much, however, he will say. It is
well known that the said calumniator did, at many periods of his life,
make use of the services of a _calceolarius_. Think of that, freemen of
America! He has often been known to submit to indignities, such as
nose-pulling from the hands of a common _tonsor_, and has been
frequently in such a condition that he could not appear in public
without the assistance of a _sartor_! Is it fitting that a high-toned
journalist should engage in petty recriminations with such a one?
"Revenge," says JAMES MURDOCK, "is the sweetest morsel cooked in its own
gravy, with _sauce moyennaise_." "Yes," said Dean SWIFT, "and let us
have some, and a little gin, say five fingers, and a trifle of milk."
Thus it is that we regard the editor of the _Encyclopedia_.
CARLYLE remarks, "Many a vessel, (for if not a Vessel, then surely we,
or our progenitors, in counting ships, and the assumptive floatative
mechanisms of anterior and past ages; or as the Assyrians
[under-estimating the force of the correlative elements] declared a
bridging, or a going over [not of seas merely, but of those chaotic gaps
of the mind] are all wrong enough indeed,) has never got there."
We also think of that editor in this way, and trust that enough has been
said to make it plain that PUNCHINELLO is not to be attacked with
impunity by every little journal of the day.
       *       *       *       *       *
Encouraging for Travellers.
The managers of a leading railroad announce that they take passengers
"to all principal points of the West without change." Such unusual
liberality, at a time when Change is so scarce with many people,
ought to insure for that railroad a great success.
       *       *       *       *       *
Alike, but Different.
Poetry sometimes has a Ring in it. So has a pig's nose.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.
Military dramas might, as a rule, be called with equal propriety
millinery dramas. In other words, their success is generally due to
their costumes. In this respect they afford a marked contrast to ballet
spectacles. The latter give us inanity without clothes; the former,
inanity in particularly gorgeous clothes. Which, again, leads to the
further remark that the difference between the two styles of inanity is,
after all, a clothes thing. This is a joke.
The _Lancers_, now running at WALLACK'S, (a proceeding which implies no
want of bravery on the part of that distinguished corps,) is, however,
unlike most military dramas, inasmuch as it is a bright and brilliant
play. Moreover, it is acted by the best members of the Company in their
very best manner. Miss LOUISA MOORE, whose golden hair and silvery voice
become an actress of genuine mettle as well as gentle grace, is ESTELLE,
the heroine; Miss EMILY MESTAYER is the Commanding Sister of Col. EPEE
who is personated by Mr. FISHER; Mr. WYNDHAM is the Graceless Private,
who, having spent his last penny, enlists in the Lancers and spends vast
sums in beneficiary beer in company with his comrades; Mr. WILLIAMSON is
the Kindly Sergeant; Mr. RINGGOLD is the Genial Artist, whose velvet
coat suggests that he has recently managed a Starr _opera bouffe_
enterprise; and Mr. STODDART is happy in the congenial character of a
Clumsy Trumpeter. If any speculative manager pretends that he has a
better hypothetical cast in his eye than the present cast of the
_Lancers_, let him be given to the surgical tormentors to be operated
upon for malignant _strabismus_.
The curtain rises upon the Genial Artist searching for his friend, the
Graceless Private, in the empty jugs and glasses at the _Golden Sun
Inn_. To him enters the Clumsy Trumpeter.
_Genial Artist_. "Where can he be? It--it must, and yet--"
_Clumsy Trumpeter (without Stoddart's usual oath.)_ "He's got 'em.
Hallo! friend. Do you want any thing?"
_Genial Artist_. "Yes--no--that is--or rather it isn't--" (_Exit, while
Trumpeter makes faces at the gallery_.)
_Enter_ ESTELLE _and her maid, disguised as peasants, and pursued by a
troop of lancers_.
_All the Lancers_. "Let _me_ kiss 'em."
_Both the Girls_. "Scr-r-r-r-e-e-e-ch."
(_Enter Graceless Private_.)
_Graceless Private_. "I will protect you. Get out, all you fellows."
(_They get out_.)
A flirtation between the Private and ESTELLE is at once begun, from
which it appears that she came to catch a glimpse of the Colonel, who
wants to marry her. She and the Private sit on the table, and fall
instantaneously in love. As soon as they are well in, the Lancers
return, and ESTELLE flies. Graceless Private, having no money, pays for
the co-inebriation of the entire corps, and while engaged in this
praiseworthy occupation is found by the Genial Artist, who makes him
promise to attend a ball at a neighboring _chateau_. Enter Kindly
Sergeant, who arrests the Graceless Private, and puts him in the
guard-house. Curtain falls amid faces from STODDART (without his usual
oath) and applause from the audience.
_Veteran Play-goer_. "Well, I've seen STODDART in every thing he has
played this year, and this is the first time he has failed to swear on
every ineligible occasion."
_Young Lady who frequents Wallack's_. "Who is that Clumsy Trumpeter? I
don't know him."
_Accompanying Young Man_. "Why, don't you know STODDART?"
_Young Lady_. "Nonsense; that isn't STODDART. Why, he hasn't sworn
_Fast Young Man_. "STODDART isn't himself to-night. He hasn't the spirit
to swear. Did you hear the good thing he said Monday night about Miss
MOORE? It was devilish good. Says he--" (_Repeats an indelicate joke_.)
_Irate Old Gentleman who overhears the story_. "If he said that, sir, he
ought to have been hissed off the stage, sir; and turned out of the
company, sir! It was an insult to an estimable lady, and an outrage on
the audience, sir!"
_The second act takes place in the salon of ESTELLE. The Colonel and his
Commanding Sister lay siege to_ ESTELLE'S _heart. Graceless Private, in
evening dress, countermines the Colonel's forces and routs them, wading
deeper than before in the exhilarating surf of love, hand in hand with_
ESTELLE. (_This metaphor has been leased for a term of years to a
distinguished hydropathic poet.) Clumsy Trumpeter drops books and things
all over the room, and recognises the Graceless Private. Finally the
Colonel and the latter quarrel, and go out in the back yard to fight,
where the Private is wounded in the arm. The Colonel returns and
announces the result to_ ESTELLE, _who swoons, or at all events, makes
an admirable feint of so doing. Curtain._
_Fast Young Man_. "STODDART didn't try his good joke to-night. He'll say
something yet, though, before the play is over."
_Every body Else_. "Did you ever see better acting than WYNDHAM'S and
Miss MOORE'S? And how capitally FISHER and Miss MESTAYER are playing?
STODDART positively hasn't sworn yet. What can be the matter with him?"
_Inquiring Maiden, to her travelled lover_. "Are the uniforms just like
those of the real French Lancers?"
_Travelled Lover_. "Very nearly. There is one button too many on the
front of the Colonel's coat. I know the regiment well. It's the crack
artillery regiment in the French service."
_Act III. shows us the Graceless Private brought before the Colonel for
examination. He feigns drunkenness, but the Colonel suspects him of
having been his adversary at the ball_. ESTELLE _visits the Colonel in
order to save her Private lover. He is proved to have broken his arrest,
and is sentenced to death_. ESTELLE _offers to marry the Colonel if he
will pardon the Private. The latter's discharge arrives in the nick of
time, and as he is thus beyond the reach of the Colonel's vengeance, he
graciously pardons him, and joins his hand to that of_ ESTELLE. _He
remarks--or ought to--"Bless you, my children." Every body suddenly
finds out that every body else is noble and generous. And so the curtain
falls upon a happy garrison, including a Trumpeter who has not sworn a
single oath_.
_One Half of the Audience_. "How do you like it? I like it so much."
_The Other Half_. "I like it immensely."
_Chorus from Every body_. "Why didn't STODDART swear?"
_Answering Echo from the Tipperary Hills_. "Because WALLACK has told him
that the public won't stand it any longer."
And the public is right. Mr. STODDART is an exceptionally able actor,
but of late he has grown intolerably coarse and vulgar while on the
stage. His profanity has disgraced himself and the theatre, and his
gratuitous insult to an estimable lady, who had the misfortune to appear
in the same scene with him on Monday night, should have secured his
instant dismissal from the company, and his perpetual banishment to
_Tammany_ or _Tony Pastor's_. Let him turn over a new leaf at once. He
does not swear in the present play, and the fact is creditable to him.
He is a gentleman in private life; let him be a gentleman on the stage.
By so doing he will soon be recognized as one of the best comedians of
the day. And PUNCHINELLO will be the first to praise him when he lays
aside the unnecessary vulgarity with which he has latterly bid for the
applause of the gallery.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE RELIGION OF TEMPERANCE.
    Says Poet to Parson--To save men from drinking,
    Not many religions are good to my thinking;
    To be sure a good Baptist a man of true grace is,
    But a Hard Shell, my brother's the hardest of cases.
    Your Shouter's too noisy for temperance talking,
    Your Come-outer too harsh for right temperate walking.
    A Quaker's not steady enough on his beam-ends,
    And a Shaker is bad for _delirium tremens_.
    But of all the hard drinkers religion has warmed,
    To my mind the most hopeful's the _German Reformed_.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE PET DOGS OF NEW-YORK PRESENT THEIR COMPLIMENTS, WITH
THE ABOVE CUT, TO MR. BERGH, AND REQUEST THAT HE WILL CUR-TAIL THE
SPORTS OF THOUGHTLESS CHILDREN WHO INSIST UPON PLAYING AT "HORSE" WITH
       *       *       *       *       *
One PULLMAN, who preaches the "milk of the word," (not without gin,
PUNCHINELLO supposes,) declares that the BIBLE is full of lies. Well,
according to his own view of it, PULLMAN must be full of Scripture.
       *       *       *       *       *
The Real Fact.
Mr. COLFAX, says the Cincinnati Gazette, intends to call his new-born
son CASABLANCA, the Vice-President having once "stood on a burning
deck," etc. PUNCHINELLO discovers a shrewder reason. The plain English
for Casablanca is White-House.
       *       *       *       *       *
Concealed Weapons.
Detroit drunkards, says an exchange, use a stocking with a stone in it
to avoid arrest--just as if a hat "with a brick in it" were not enough!
       *       *       *       *       *
Written With a Steal Pen.
So great is the habit among editors of cribbing from each other, that if
one were to write an article about an egg another would immediately
       *       *       *       *       *
The Battle of Hastings.
The fight between the _Commercial Advertiser_ and THEODORE TILTON.
       *       *       *       *       *
Triumphs of the Chisel.
The Wall street "busts." Good judges pronounce them Per Phidias.
       *       *       *       *       *
What an Asthmatic Artist can not Draw.
A long breath.
       *       *       *       *       *
"The American Working-woman's Union" Most Sought After.
       *       *       *       *       *
The Latest Edition of "Shoo! Fly."
"MOSQUITO" at Niblo's.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE CONGRESSMAN TO HIS CRITICS.
    Well, talk, if you like; I suppose it's your way;
    Each citizen, surely, should say all his say;
    _I_ did just so, when I'd nothing to do;
    And if _I_ felt like doing so, why shouldn't _you_!
    It's republican, pleasant, and safe, to find fault;
    If a man can't do _that_, why he's not worth his salt.
    And never, since critics (and fleas) learned their powers,
    Was a country more blest with such vermin than ours.
    You've learned much about your old friend, it is said;
    The farther I'm from you, the plainer I'm read!
    When "one of the people" comes here to make laws,
    The "people" disown him. Now, what is the cause?
    You say I'm not "dignified." Well, friends--are you?
    My language, my manners, are rough, it is true;
    My tones, and my jokes, (since you say it,) are coarse;
    But very few streams rise above their own source.
    If we're all "politicians," and they are such trash
    As you have declared them, why were you so rash
    As to give us your votes? What! will nobody "run"
    But a "mere politician?" Why, then we're undone!
    Come, come--this is nonsense! Be fair, my good sirs!
    Let us look at this question. Suppose it occurs
    That a long, prosy speech is about to be made;
    If you say, "Stay and hear it," must you be obeyed?
    But ours is a "serious business." True!
    And so are some other things serious, too!
    Such as courtships, and dinners, and headaches, and blues,
    And sight-seeing friends, whom 'tis death[1] to refuse!
    Now, many of us (though it should not be said!)
    Are really stupid, and haven't much head.
    We don't take that view of our duty that _you_ do;
    We're often so bothered we don't know what _to_ do!
    Our votes look decided--as though we did know;
    But that's because BUTLER or SCHENCK voted so.
    Such points may come up, in the course of the day,
    As would puzzle the Seraphim some, I should say!
    Besides, gentle friends! did you ever think so?
    Perhaps we are paying you all that we owe.
    If you want better service, why send better men,
    And be better yourselves. It will all be right, then.
[Footnote 1: Political death, of course.]
       *       *       *       *       *
Come on, Ladies!
An Anti-mustache movement has begun in Boston. PUNCHINELLO to explain
that it begins altogether with the ladies, and is, of course, Right
Against the mustaches.
       *       *       *       *       *
For Lunatics Only.
The latest whim of the Lunatics in one of the Indiana Asylums is the
notion that they can design and build opera-houses. Well, we have lots
of crazy architecture, and more than one gentleman has acknowledged
himself insane for investing in opera-houses. But PUNCHINELLO thinks
that the tastes of the insane would be better encouraged if directed to
the building of Courts of Justice. Every Court-house thus constructed,
would be a monument to the Plea of Insanity.
       *       *       *       *       *
GLIMPSES OF FORTUNE.
You may not think so, my dear PUNCHINELLO, but it is true. I have had
them. I am not one of your bloated aristocrats--just at the present
moment--but I know as well as any one what WHITTIER meant when he said
"it might have been." As an instance of this, I will just state that it
has not been a very long time since, in looking over the columns of one
of our principal dailies, I saw something among the personals which
seemed to touch my interests in, a very decided way. I often look over
the "Personals," for I know well the connection between fortune and the
Press. I have not forgotten the success of A.T. STEWART and many other
millionaires, and their dependence on the newspapers--but never until
that day had I seen any thing in that mystic column which could possibly
be construed to apply to inc. As for the rest of the paper, I knew that
there was nothing to interest me there. You see I was after Fortune. The
advertisement to which I refer road as follows:
"If the gentleman in a dark hat and gray pantaloons, who, in a Broadway
stage, one day last week, passed up the fare for a lady with blue eyes
and high-heeled boots, will call at 831 Dash street, second floor, he
will hear of something to his advantage. A.R.R."
Now, it so happened, that during the whole of the preceding week I had
worn a black hat and gray pantaloons; indeed, I had them on yet, and, to
tell the truth, I had no others. Therefore, this part of the case was
all clear enough. There was no reason why the gentleman inquired for
should not be me. I had certainly ridden in a stage in the last week,
and I remember very well that I passed up the fare for lady with blue
eyes. I performed a similar service for several ladies; but one of them,
I am sure, had blue eyes. As to the high-heeled boots I suppose she wore
them, but how was I to know that? At all events it would be a piece of
the most culpable indifference to my welfare to neglect this chance.
Fortune! and through a lady, too! To think of it! The promised advantage
might be great or small, but whatever it was, it would be most welcome.
And the honor, too! A piece of positive advantage for an act of manly
I immediately put on that black hat, and with those identical gray
trowsers upon my legs, I strode down to 321 Dash street, and mounted
instantly to the second floor. As there was but one entrance door from
the stair-way on this floor, I felt certain that I had found the right
The business of Mr. A.R.R. was evidently a very profitable one, for his
room was quite full of people. I inquired of a boy for the author of the
notice I held in my hand, (I had carefully cut it from the paper,) and
was informed that this was the right place, and that the gentleman would
see me in a few moments. I took a seat and regarded the persons who were
standing and sitting about the room. They were all men, and in a few
minutes I discovered, to my great surprise, that they all wore black
hats and gray pantaloons!
I must admit, that when I made this discovery, I experienced a very
peculiar sensation, as if some one had suddenly dropped a little
ice-water down my back. Was it possible that all these men were here in
answer to that advertisement, which I considered addressed to me alone?
There were all sorts of them; old gentlemen with heads grayer than their
pants; young fellows who looked like clerks; and middle-aged men, who
seemed like very respectable heads of families. Was it possible that
each one of those individuals had, in the last week, passed up the fare
of a blue-eyed lady with high-heeled boots? And did each one of them
expect to enjoy that advantage for which I came here? One thing was
certain; they did not announce to each other their business, but looked
at their watches and tapped their boots, and knitted their brows as if
each one of them had come on very particular business, which had nothing
to do with the affairs of the general crowd. But all those gray
trowsers! There was no concealing them.
A door, leading into an adjoining room, now opened quickly, and Mr.
A.R.R. made his appearance. No one doubted that he was the man, for he
bowed politely, and seemed to expect the company. He was a tall, thin,
and well-dressed man, and held in his hand a small package. Instantly
upon his appearance every man in the room stuck his thumb and forefinger
into his vest pocket, and pulling out a little piece of printed paper,
said, "Sir, I called--" A.R.R. waved his hand.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I know why you called, and you will allow me to
"But look here," said a tall man with a blue cravat. "I think that I am
the person you want to see, and as I am in a hurry, I would like to see
you for a few minutes in private."
Dozens of angry eyes were now directed upon this presumptuous
individual, and dozens of angry voices were about to break forth when
the benign A.R.R. again waved his hand.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I wish to see you all. No one more than another.
I have reason to believe that every one of you is the person to whom
that advertisement referred. I see you are all gentlemen, and you would
not have made your appearance here had you not fulfilled the conditions
mentioned in the paper."
Here was a smothered hum, which seemed to precede a general outbreak,
but A.R.R., blandly smiling, continued:
"Gentlemen, do not become impatient. What I have to say is to the
advantage of every one of you. You all move in good society--I can see
that--and you therefore are well aware of some of the penalties of
social pleasures and high living. Consequently, gentlemen," and now he
spoke very fast, as if fearful of interruption, "you must have, all of
you, experienced some of the evils of indigestion, and it is to relieve
these that I have prepared my Binocular Barberry Bitters--"
A roar of rage here broke forth from every man of us, and a rush was
made towards the smiling impostor, but he quickly slipped through the
door behind him, and locked it in our faces. And then, before we could
rush from the room where we had been so shamefully duped, the head of
A.R.R. appeared at a little window in the partition-wall, and he called
"Gentlemen, this mixture is, as my initials declare, a Radical Relief,
and retails at one dollar per bottle, I hope you will take some of my
circulars home with you," and he threw among the crowd the package of
circulars which he had held in his hand.
This, O friend PUNCHINELLO, was only one of my Glimpses of Fortune. I
may yet see the jade more nearly. IMPECUNE.
       *       *       *       *       *
Under the conditions of the Fifteenth Amendment, should things continue
to be put down in Black and White?
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration:
"COMPARISONS ARE ODIOUS."
_Fond Mother._ "YES, HE'S A PRETTY GOOD BOY, BUT HE DON'T
TAKE TO HIS LETTERS."
_Squire._ "WELL, HE OUGHTER, FOR HIS MOUTH IS LIKE THE
SLIT OF A POST-OFFICE BOX."]
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: A TABLEAU OF THE DAY.
GENERAL DANA, WHO HAS BROUGHT THE FIRE OF THE "SUN" TO BEAR UPON EVERY
BODY, NOW BEGINS TO REALIZE THE FORCE OF THE PROVERB--"FOLKS WHO LIVE IN
GLASS HOUSES SHOULD NOT THROW STONES."]
       *       *       *       *       *
THE INDIAN QUESTION.
[AS VIEWED IN THE WEST.]
    This is _our_ business, understand!
    You Eastern folks, with tempers bland
    All get your views at second-hand.
    We are the ones that take the brunt
    Of every lively Indian-hunt,
    So don't be angry if we're blunt.
    If any body's scalped it's _us!_
    So we've a well-earned right to cuss,
    And you've _no_ right to make a fuss.
    Talk as you please about their "rights;"
    That don't include their coming nights,
    And cutting out our lungs and lights.
    You get your wife and children shot!
    (Here it might happen, like us not,)
    You'll make your mind up on the spot.
    "Humanity" 's played out for _you!_
    You've got some active work to do;
    No doubt you'll see it well put through.
    Until you've settled that small bill,
    (As honorable debtors will,)
    We fancy you will not keep still.
    You will admit the tender plea
    Of "broken faith;" but when you see
    Your Red Skin, you won't let him be!
    Just so with us. We don't go back
    Of _our_ affair! We were not slack
    In justice to this Devil's pack!
    They settle with the wrong concern;
    And as they never, _never'll_ learn,
    We shoot 'em, and don't care a _dern!_
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: EDITORIAL WASHING-DAY IN NEW-YORK.]
EDITORIAL WASHING-DAY.
Observe PUNCHINELLO'S Cartoon, in which you shall behold the editorial
laundresses of New-York city having a washy time of it all around. There
is a, shriek of objurgation in the air, and a flutter of soiled linen on
the breeze. Granny MARBLE, to the extreme left of the picture, clenches
her fists over the pungent suds, and looks fight at Granny JONES, of the
_Times_. The beaming phiz of Granny GREELEY looms up between the two,
like the sun in a fog. But the real _Sun_ in a fog is to be seen to the
extreme right. There you behold Granny DANA, shaking her "brawny bunch
of fives" in the face of Granny YOUNG, whose manner of wringing out the
linen, you will observe, is up to the highest _Standard_ of that branch
of art. Further away, Granny TILTON flutters her linen with spiteful
flourish, nettled by the vituperation of Granny HASTINGS, who hangs up
her _Commercial_ clothes on the line. The _tableau_ is an instructive
one; and it is to be hoped that all the U-Lye soaps used by the
washerwomen is used up by this time, and that they will replace it with
some having a sweeter perfume.
       *       *       *       *       *
BOOK NOTICES.
MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL. New-York: Charles Scribner & Company.
A very cleverly-written narrative, in smooth verse, detailing the
experience of a bride who took to flirting early in her matrimonial
career, but was saved from coming to grief by the decisive action of a
stern husband. The book contains a capital lesson for the Girl of the
Period, whose follies are satirized in it with a sharp pen.
       *       *       *       *       *
The attention of the Public is requested to PUNCHINELLO No. 10, which
will be issued upon Thursday, May 26th. It will be a very brilliant
number, illustrated with flights of fancy by ten comic artists.
In PUNCHINELLO No. 11 will be commenced a new burlesque serial, "The
Mystery of Mister E. Drood," written expressly for this paper by the
celebrated humorist, ORPHEUS C. KERR.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: MAKING A HASH OF IT. _Customer_. "I THOUGHT YOU HAD
A GOOD PLACE WITH MR. ASHE; WHY ARE YOU GOING TO LEAVE?"
_Cockney Waiter_. "FACT IS, SIR, HASHE IS IN THE 'ABIT OF MAKING USE OF
HODIOUS LANGUAGE TO HIS WAITERS, SIR, AND NO MAN OF HEDUCATION COULD
STAND _THAT_, SIR, YOU KNOW, SIR."]
       *       *       *       *       *
MR. PUNCHINELLO, do you know when a woman is perfection itself? "No." I
do. It is when she is from sixteen to nineteen. Of course you take her
judgment. At sixteen she is the coming flower that has come--the first
Rose of Summer, and about the best that may be looked for. Her ideas may
not be solid, but they are expansive. Her mind may not make a very great
show, but her hair (real and otherwise) is sure to. She is very deep in
love--with herself. The supremest divinity is seen when she looks in the
mirror. Call her ARABELLA if you like. ARABELLA is mistress of that
portion of the dictionary which includes the common-place compliments of
society. In her mouth they have a common place, indeed. Some people call
such utterances "stuff," "nonsense," "puerilities," but nobody is so
prejudiced and unreliable as the above-named some people. They
complacently think they know a thing or two, but that is all it amounts
to. ARABELLA hasn't any doubt about her being perfection. Unfortunately
there is a question about some matters in this world in politics,
religion, morality and other kindred things, but on the doctrine of
perfection, as applied to her individual self, ARABELLA is clear and
settled. Did any body, she says _sotto voce_, to herself, ever put
vision on such an ensemble countenance? Were eyes ever more sparkling?
Were ever dimples dimpler? Had ever peach such artistic hue, and teeth
such pearly pearliness, and lips such positive sweetness, and brow such
loveliness? We suppose not. ARABELLA is eighteen, is of elastic notions,
sees life as a romance, believes the ground on which she walks ought to
be grateful for the honor, and wonders if every body who goes out don't
go straightway to talking rapturously about her. ARABELLA is a type--the
type of a class of perfectionists. ARABELLA is neither a worm nor a
butterfly, but the bridge between. For all this ARABELLA believes
herself to be the best of butterflies, with the capacity to fly in the
highest manner. At twenty-five her wings will be clipped, her colors
will modify, her notions renovate, and her eyes open. She will perceive
that the doctrine of perfection is mythical, and angels upon earth only
Going to church is a good thing. All good people go, and from good
motives, of course. Mrs. BROWN, says a wicked gossip, goes to show a
bonnet; Mrs. JONES her shawl; Mrs. SMITH her silk; Mrs. JENKINS her
gloves and fan. No sane person believes that these ladies go for any
such purpose. The case isn't presumable. They are nice, high-toned
people, sit in $800 pews, adore Rev. Dr. CANTWELL, and give very freely
(of their husband's money) to the heathen in the uttermost corners of
the earth. They prefer, good souls, to give to the heathen under the
equator to those under their noses. It is _not_ true that ladies go to
church for the display of dress. It _is_ true Mrs. JONES does not wish
to be outdone by Mrs. JENKINS, and isn't if STEWART can help it, but she
is a good pious woman of simple tastes, though Mr. J. thinks she tastes
rather often. Going to church is a good thing for example's sake. It is
so nice and strengthening to reflect that, as the minister preaches
piety, and you practice poetry, (with a pencil in the prayer-book,) you
set an example to the rising generation. One can never do too much for
the rising generation, though it often rises too frequently and too
high. Besides, it encourages the minister. Only think of talking to
emptiness instead of fulness--to people instead of plush. How can the
dear Rev. SPLURGE SPLUTTER have the heart or tongue to drop his pearls
of eloquence to the swine of empty pews? And how dreadful for the gifted
soprano, Miss SCREECH, to tune her melodious voice to earless aisles!
And then it is so easy to "set" examples by sitting in soft pews, doing
to church should be a matter of conscience. Every body not a dolt admits
conscience to be a good thing, though a thing every body cannot boast of
possessing. I like people of conscience--that is, I should like them if
I knew any. It is such a nice thing to talk about--and how much nicer
to have. Mrs. TODD often wishes "to conscience" she could reach mine. I
am sorry to say that at times Mrs. T. is an irreverent woman. She
doesn't perceive that some where under that hairless, proud dome of mine
there must be a conscience--I may proudly say, an imposing conscience. I
said to Mrs. T. one day, "I _have_ an imposing conscience," and she
really thought so--adding the cruel expression that she didn't know of
any thing about me but _was_ imposing, and that she first became aware
of the sad fact when she married me.
TIMOTHY TODD.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE REIGN OF COUPS.
The situation of France is always striking. This is because its people
are always being struck with a succession of Napoleonic ideas. They
labor, for example, under a constant _coup d'etat_. Their Press is the
victim of a regular _coup de main_; their Strikes are daily evidences of
_coups de mains_; their Legislature suffers continually from _coup de
theatre_; and their Emperor is perpetually threatened with a _coup de
grace_. The energies of Frenchmen are not imprisoned; no, they are only
       *       *       *       *       *
ELEVATED STATESMANSHIP--INSOBRIETY THE BEST POLICY.
Sir JOHN MACDONALD, the Premier of Canada, though an eccentric leader,
is a happy illustration of the most elevated statecraft. "He has been
drunk," says the Toronto _Globe_, "for several days, and incapacitated
for public affairs." Considering what Canadian affairs are (including
Sir JOHN,) this does not follow. Evidently it is not his policy to keep
sober. But Sir JOHN is often drunk, says the _Globe_; he was tight
before Prince ARTHUR, and he rushes to the bottle whenever the Fenians
give alarm. Now this strikes us as very good policy. It helps us to see
how convenient it was for Sir JOHN to magnify a few O'BRIENS and
O'SHAUGHNESSYS into an army with green banners, and how opportunely the
Dominion became intoxicated with its fears.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: A POWERFUL PROTECTOR.
_Mother_. "WHY, ROSIE, HOW LATE YOU ARE TO-DAY!"
_Rosie_. "YES, MA, BUT I COULDN'T HELP IT. THERE WAS A POOR LITTLE GIRL
AT SCHOOL WHO HAD NO ONE TO TAKE CARE OF HER, AND SO I HAD TO SEE HER
       *       *       *       *       *
COMIC ZOOLOGY.
Order-Reptilia.
The supposition that this snake prefers a file to any other species of
nourishment is a vulgar error, and belongs to the same mendacious
category as the stories that ostriches are fond of ten-penny nails and
soldiers of hard tack. It is true that old files are sometimes bitten by
vipers in localities where these serpents abound, but in the lizard and
hop-toad they usually find metal more attractive. The viper, when in a
state of repose, is of an olive-brown color; but, if trodden upon, turns
rusty. He is about twenty-four inches in length, as you may see by
applying a two-foot rule to him, but it is a good rule to keep two feet
away from him. As a bosom friend he is not to be trusted--a fact in
natural history that was discovered many years ago by a green
countryman, who got into a bad box by placing a viper on his chest. It
is a peculiarity of this serpent, that when held suspended by his
posterior extremity he can not raise his head to a level with his tail.
In consequence of this provision in the economy of nature, he finds it
as impossible to make both ends meet as if he were a human prodigal. In
this respect he presents a marked contrast to the hoop-snake, which has
no more back-bone than a timid politician, and can put its tail in its
mouth, and roll in any direction with the utmost facility. The viper was
at one time supposed to have an envenomed tongue, and although this
error has been exploded, it is as well to avoid his jaw if possible, as,
when irritated, he is very snappish.
This snake, according to some naturalists, is oviparous, and according
to others viviparous; but all authorities agree that it is viperous in
the extreme. Serpents are generated in various ways; the horse-runner,
for instance, being derived from the fibres of horses' manes and tails,
which probably receive the breath of life in a mare's nest. That such is
the origin of the horse-runner the reader can verify for himself, by
putting a few horse hairs in a basin of water and watching them till
they begin to squirm. Possibly the shorter fibres from the _caput_ of an
African might in like manner produce vipers. The experiment is worth
trying. There are several varieties of the species in this country; the
most malignant and treacherous being the Political Vipers--snakes in
the grass--bred from the spawn of the Original Cockatrices, and a curse
to the land we live in.
       *       *       *       *       *
WOMAN IN THE CENSUS.
A fresh blow has been struck at Woman's Rights! Gallant ladies, eager to
cope with figures, have been compelled to yield to numbers--inferior
numbers at that! Man, the minority, remains the popular tyrant of
population. Women, the majority, don't count, can't count for any
thing--even for women--at least in the sense of being Census-takers; for
General WALKER has decided that Assistant Marshals LAVINIA PURLEAR and
SARAH BURGOYNE (hear it, shades of NEY and BLUCHER!) are ineligible to
such a warlike title. General WALKER is not firm in his mind that
Marshals PURLEAR and BURGOYNE [would it be as well to say Marshal WALKER
and Generals PURLEAR and BURGOYNE?] are feminine. "These appear to be
the names of women," he says. Why might they not be the names of men? Is
there no right or reason in these days of domestic revolution for men to
name themselves LAVINIA and SARAH if they like it, and their wives like
it? And suppose LAVINIA and SARAH that ought to be, or might have been,
choose to call themselves MAHALALEEL and METHUSALEM--who's to prevent?
Why should not the Rev. Mr.---- style himself Miss NANCY if he pleases?
Why should not the Hon. Mr.---- rechristen himself BETTY if he has a
mind to? H'm! A pretty pass we are coming to if these women folks who
ask men's rights and take men's names won't lend us theirs! And alas,
alas, ye lasses! What if some-day ye do indeed abstract our census, and
marshal us into helpless minority. What if we have to disguise
ourselves, and shave our beards, and change our names even to get on the
police! Or will ye--ye bullying Syrens!--grow whiskers and wear
pantaloons, and put us in station-houses, and clear us out of the Census
       *       *       *       *       *
A LETTER FROM A FRIEND.
Friend PUNCHINELLO: Thee has doubtless sorrowed, in spite of thy motley,
with those bereft at Richmond. Circumstances made that disaster a
calamity which we have all felt in common. But thee knows that
"Blessings come often in disguise." Let us find what small comfort we
can in this thought.
Circumstances, however, alter cases. How different the feeling--how thin
the disguise would have been--had our Capitol fallen, at Harrisburg!
Before another Session we trust the proper spirit will move some
underpinning there, for the greater good of the Commonwealth. It was
formerly said that "Law is law;" but not even a Philadelphia lawyer now
knows what law is or what law is not--for "any thing" is law here
abouts. Of one result we may boast, if that be not sinful, we are ahead
of thy wicked city.. Thee had thy delinquent Tax Collector, _but thee
has him not_. We sorrowed, for we had him not, but now we rejoice in one
whose name is--not BAILEY--but HILL. We did not want him, but got him
involuntarily, as thee might get the small-pox.
Doubtless he will make it more up-Hill work than ever with our taxes,
but, if he would only shoulder them and be off, what a blessing? For,
verily, it cannot be said, as of old, that a man "heapeth up riches, and
knoweth not who shall gather them."
But, perhaps, thee pays taxes also? If so, thee can affirm to the
gatherer, as well as thy friend,
PHINEAS BRODBRIMME.
_Philadelphia, 5th month, 9th day, 1870._
       *       *       *       *       *
Somebody talks of the Iron Men of Congress. Does he mean the Cast-iron
members or the Pig-iron members? For instance there are the rusty
Heavy-weights, and then there are the fellows who are greedy about
Tariff. Members of the scrap-iron and ten-penny nail order are, of
course, not alluded to. All these are iron men, but, as every body
knows, are not men of Iron. In view of its rusty legislation and
legislators, we recommend Congress to hang out a sign--"Highest prices
paid here for old iron."
       *       *       *       *       *
The Toronto _Globe_ is at present treating the Premier of the Dominion
to a course of lectures, advising him not to get drunk so often as he
does. Now this is too much to expect, since the gentleman referred to
has, by virtue of his official position, the run of the Bar.
       *       *       *       *       *
CONDENSED CONGRESS.
MR. MORRILL expressed his views upon what he is pleased, for MORRILL is
mirthful in his heavy way, to designate the reduction of taxes. He said
that we had been for some time in a state of peace, and our expenses
were not so large as they had been. Therefore he thought we might leave
direct taxation alone. To be sure he was not prepared to suggest any
specific reductions in direct taxation. But, doubtless, they would be
made some day or other. In the meantime let us pile on the tariff. This
was his notion of reducing taxation. Let the importers and the consumers
who don't like it--
    Learn how sublime a thing it is
    To suffer and be strong.
Then the Senate betook itself to considering an appropriation for
educating the colored infant. Mr. WILSON strongly approved it, not only
on account of the colored infant, for whose education he did not in a
general way feel any particular solicitude, inasmuch as the less
educated he was, the likelier he would be to give his voice and vote to
him, (Mr. WILSON,) and his like; but also because the appropriation
would provide for a number of the supernumerary female school-teachers
of Massachusetts, who had become a great trial to him, and particularly
to his colleague, Mr. SUMNER.
Mr. SUMNER said "that's school," and explained that he believed he was
venerated by the women of Massachusetts, but that their reverence for
him was too great to allow them to approach him with importunities.
Nevertheless, he was in favor of the bill, as tending to break down the
accursed spirit of caste, and to disseminate throughout the South the
three or more R's which he had so often had the honor of reverberating
throughout the Senate.
Mr. YATES approved of the bill. It was his general principle to vote for
any thing that looked to the disbursement of money. He was particularly
in favor of this measure, because he wanted an uniform education for
every body. He didn't want any body else to know more than himself, and
he didn't want to know more than any body else. (Voices--You don't.)
Take spelling. There was only one correct method of spelling--the one
that he pursued. And yet he had never found any other person who agreed
with him in it. Evidently, this was not right. He demanded that the
children of the country should be taught to spell on proper principles,
so that his works might be intelligible to posterity, as they were not
to his contemporaries.
Of course Mr. SUMNER seized the occasion to quote crowds of authorities
on education, which debilitated the Senate to a dissolution.
Mr. LYNCH wanted to revive American commerce in behalf of the
ship-builders of Maine. If he were a judge, as a celebrated namesake of
his once was, he would do it by hanging a majority of members of the
House he had the honor of addressing. In default of that he wanted them
to legislate sensibly upon it.
Of course nobody paid any attention to the suggestion. The House did
itself credit by refusing one land-grab, out of a thousand or so
Mr. BUTLER actually produced again his bill to annex San Domingo, and
refused to be comforted, because every body laughed.
Then came up the Tariff. COVODE said he supposed it would be admitted
that he had as little regard for the right and wrong of the thing as any
body. But this thing had really gone so far that any man with any regard
for his re-election must protest. Nobody but SCHENCK and KELLEY cared
about the tariff. Every body cared about the taxes.
SCHENCK could not regard COVODE with any other sentiment than disgust.
He wanted a duty upon foreign oysters. The oyster of Long Island and the
oyster of New-Jersey ought not to be trodden down by the pauper oysters
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
Personal advertisements having reference to the matrimonial exigencies
of divers widows, old maids, and bachelors, are not without their
influence upon the sympathies of the age. Particular attention has been
recently directed toward an announcement made in a Cleveland paper to
the effect that "Two widow ladies, strangers in Cleveland, wish to form
the acquaintance of a limited number of gentlemen with a view to happy
results. Please address in confidence,--."
One involuntarily regrets that a prospect thus bounded by an horizon of
"happy results" should have been confined to a "limited number of
There is nothing so calculated to impair the usefulness of what purports
to be a purely benevolent enterprise, as its selfishness. If a widow, or
any number of widows, really possess the means of realizing "happy
results" with a "limited number of gentlemen," they should either remove
the limitation themselves, or make known the secret to those who would
be less sparing of the joys which it is capable of communicating. A
quack who peddles a valuable remedy upon which he may have stumbled, and
yet refuses to disclose its ingredients for the benefit of the whole
medical fraternity, violates the _esprit du corps_ of the profession,
and is by general consent deemed a fit person to be kicked out of it.
Therefore, if any widows or single ladies in Cleveland have knowledge of
any "happy results" which they advertise to share with a limited number
of gentlemen, we shall deem them unworthy of their sex, unless they
explain the process by which these results are attained, for the benefit
of those who are fast verging toward the autumnal stage of maidenhood.
       *       *       *       *       *
It may well be doubted whether the thought ever occurred to ADAM that
one day or other a hen would be charged with the care and custody of a
brood of goslings. The pastimes of Eden were perhaps not favorable to
vaticinations in the line of Natural History, but in the progress of the
world since those most primitive times, men have come to contemplate the
spectacle of that familiar barn-yard fowl made wretched by the aquatic
propensities of her supposed offspring, without a particle of
astonishment. The wicked and unfeeling even go so far as to seek
amusement in her misery. Her "ducklings" and other symptoms of maternal
agony at beholding the feathered darlings tempting the dangers of a
neighboring duck-pond, do not move their stony breasts. On the contrary,
they decidedly relish that sort of thing, and greet with positive
hilarity the efforts of some sympathizing rooster to cheer her. Fie,
upon such natures! If they must have an outlet for their ribaldry, let
them take PUNCHINELLO'S advice and select such instances as that
recently furnished in Sacramento, where a hen took charge of a nest of
kittens, and resolutely maintained it against the parent cat. Here the
case was different. The hen had become a trespasser. She had no business
with kittens. There was no hypothesis by which she could claim them as
her own. Kittens are not hereditary in the family of fowls, and she knew
it. It was an usurpation without any pretext of justification. What
would become of us if such a precedent could be extended to the genus
_Mammalia?_ Hundreds of rapacious old maids would be seizing all sorts
and all sizes of babies from agonized mothers, and asserting for
themselves the hallowed duties of maternity. Our infant days would have
been days of ceaseless motion. We should have been shuttle-cocked from
maiden to mother and from mother to maiden after a fashion calculated to
defeat the wise purposes of ipecac and paregoric, and to frighten our
natural curls into a state of painful perpendicularity. The mere
presentment of such a possibility, carries its refutation, and puts the
aggressions of this Sacramento hen in the category of outrages which all
society is banded to suppress. If you must laugh, O generation of
scoffers, make your jokes and gibes the instrument of protecting the
altars of all such feline households as may be thus assailed.
       *       *       *       *       *
Flag and Rag.
What is the difference between a railroad danger signal and a lost
pocket-handkerchief?
The one is a red flag, the other is a fled rag.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: SOCIAL SCIENCE.
_Lecturer._ "THERE IS A CUMULATIVE APPROXIMATIVENESS, SO TO SPEAK, A
PERIOD WHEN THE RECALCITRANT CORPUSCLES BEGIN TO "-------
_Stenographer._ "CON-FOUND THE FELLOW! I KNEW HE'D BREAK MY PENCIL WITH
HIS INFERNAL JAW-SMASHERS!"]
       *       *       *       *       *
FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE.
[BY ATLANTIC CABLE.]
Being uneasy about our agent's course at the Vatican, I have come over
to Rome to see about it. He is an Irishman, with a little of Father TOM
in him, and has got into a "controversy" with his Holiness about
infallibility. Our African bishop (otherwise PHELIM BURKE) insists that
PUNCHINELLO is infallible! The Pope says this is ridiculous! Father
PHELIM replies that "there are two that can play that same game." I
found them in the midst of this when ANTONELLI ushered me into the Papal
presence. PIUS was up on his feet, talking Latin like a crack student of
the Propaganda. PHELIM had his sleeves rolled up. ANTONELLI, with a
"_Pax vobiscum_" got the two contending powers quieted down; and, after
a proper salutation from me, we began our talk. His Holiness is not much
on English. Says he, "I speak vat-I-can English." Had he said _non
possumus_ to it, it would have been better. However, PHELIM translated
him; so we got on.
"Your Holiness enjoys, I hope, a good constitution?"
"The _constitutio de fide_ is, indeed, very good. Catholics must every
where subscribe to it."
"Dr. DOLLINGER, I trust, don't disturb your appetite?" "_Anathema
maranatha!_" which means (said PHELIM,) "Oh no, I never mention him."
Whereupon PHELIM, who had breakfasted on gin-and-milk, began to hum that
tune. I at once trod upon his toe, and he stopped.
"On the whole, what does your Holiness think of the prospect?"
"From this window, it is very fine. But I'm getting a little
dim-sighted.
"Don't you see that crowd of people coming up?"
"No I don't--it's only a herd of cattle from the Campagna."
"Take my glass. There, now; don't you see, I am right?"
"Yes," and the old man crossed himself, "It is so; I was mistaken."
"Thrue for you!" gobbled out PHELIM; "we've got to make a note of that!
PUNCHINELLO never made the likes of a mistake!"
"But, _what's in your glass?_ I see strange men there. GARIBALDI, and
MAZZINI, and HYACINTHE, STROSSMEYER, DOLLINGER, DUPANLOUP, and CUMMING,
all together! I see a troop of schoolmasters; a larger one of
newspaper-venders; and a whole army of _colporteurs_, each with a bag of
Bibles on his back! And, what do I see? They enter ST. PETER'S; they
leave the door wide open. Did I hear it? They are singing LUTHER'S
The old man fell now into his seat, and I took the glass from him. "Only
one of his attacks," said ANTONELLI. "He is not quite so strong as he
was." "Thrue again," said PHELIM. With that sense of propriety for which
your representative has over been distinguished, I took PHELIM by the
arm and retired.
Poor Pius! He means well, and if we only had him for a while out West,
where I came from, we might make something sensible out of him yet. But,
when a man will live so far away from the Rocky Mountains as away over
here, what can be expected? We can't civilize the whole world at once.
Father PHELIM, by the way, is to be proposed as the new King of Spain.
His father's uncle's second cousin by the mother's side partook of a
good deal of BOURBON. That's reason enough, you know especially as they
only want a King LOG.
Those infernal machines, so called, with--which the Emperor was supposed
to be about to be blown up, turn out to have been pewter plates. Out of
one of them the bottom had been cut, and the edges rolled up; and this
gave rise to a terrible suspicion. Two thousand people have been
arrested in consequence.
That _Press Ass_ has been at his blunders again. He telegraphed to me
that a conspiracy was afloat to enact a kind of petticoat government. He
meant to tell me some gossip about Madame PATTI-CAUX. Then he wanted me
to believe that the "smaller catechism" talked about at Rome was the
catechizing of SMALLEY of the Tribune, concerning GUSTAVE FLOURENS. That
man never will learn. PRIME.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  EXTRAORDINARY BARGAINS IN                   |
  |                                                              |
  | READY-MADE PARIS AND DOMESTIC SILK, POPLIN, BAREGE, MUSLIN,  |
  |                         PIQUE, LINEN                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                             AND                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        LAWN DRESSES.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |    Paris-Made Silk Sacks and Cosacks. Ladies' Embroidered    |
  |                      Breakfast Jackets.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |         A CHOICE VARIETY OF LADIES' UNDERWEAR, ETC.          |
  |                                                              |
  |   PARIS AND DOMESTIC MADE LADIES' HATS, BONNETS, FEATHERS,   |
  | FLOWERS, TRIMMING RIBBONS, _Magnificent Sash Ribbons, Velvet |
  |                     Ribbons, etc., etc._                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Stewart & Co.,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              Fourth Ave., Ninth and Tenth Sts.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. STEWART & CO.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                         ARE OFFERING                         |
  |                                                              |
  |             100 pieces Plaid and Striped Spring              |
  |                                                              |
  |                            SILKS.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                 100 pieces Grisaille Silks.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |            ROUBAIX SILKS, HIGH LUSTER, ESPECIALLY            |
  |                   ADAPTED TO SUMMER WEAR.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                 FRESH GOODS, JUST RECEIVED.                  |
  |                  $1.50 and $1.75 per yard.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                   A LARGE LOT OF JOB SILKS                   |
  |               OF AN EXTRA QUALITY AND LUSTER,                |
  |                   From $1 PER YARD UPWARD;                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                  LESS THAN HALF THEIR COST.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |              PLAIN BLACK TAFFETAS, GROS GRAINS,              |
  |                      FAILLE, etc., etc.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  At Greatly Reduced Prices.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |         MOIRE ANTIQUE SILKS, WIDE, ONLY $3 PER YARD.         |
  |                                                              |
  |        PARIS CHAMBERY GAUZES, 70c. PER YARD, UPWARD.         |
  |                                                              |
  |          CREPES DE CHINE FOR DRESSES AND TRIMMINGS,          |
  |                     ONLY $3.75 PER YARD.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                 4th Ave., 9th and 10th Sts.                  |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. STEWART & CO.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |               ARE RECEIVING BY STEAMERS, etc.,               |
  |                                                              |
  |                 NEWEST AND LATEST DESIGNS IN                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                    MOQUETTES, AXMINSTERS,                    |
  |                        ROYAL WILTONS,                        |
  |                        BODY BRUSSELS,                        |
  |                     Crossley's Velvets,                      |
  |                      Tapestry Brussels,                      |
  |                          etc., etc.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |            AND THEY HAVE OPENED THEIR LAST PARCEL            |
  |                                                              |
  |                              OF                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                    ENGLISH BODY BRUSSELS,                    |
  |                       AT $2 PER YARD,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                        ROYAL WILTONS,                        |
  |                    $2.50 AND $3 PER YARD,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                         AXMINSTERS,                          |
  |                    $2.50 AND $4 PER YARD.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |  To which they particularly request the attention of their   |
  |                  customers and the public.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |             HOUSEKEEPING GOODS IN EVERY VARIETY,             |
  |                   AT VERY POPULAR PRICES.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |           Fourth Avenue, Ninth and Tenth Streets.            |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |              HAVE REPLENISHED ALL THEIR POPULAR              |
  |          STOCK OF DRESS GOODS, AT 25c. PER YARD AND          |
  |                           UPWARD.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |              THE BEST IN QUALITY AND LOWEST IN               |
  |                      PRICE YET OFFERED.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |           Fourth Avenue, Ninth and Tenth Streets.            |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                           SPECIAL                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                    PUNCHINELLO PREMIUMS.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                 By special arrangement with                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                       L. PRANG & CO.,                        |
  |                                                              |
  | we offer the following Elegant Premiums for new Subscribers  |
  |                       to PUNCHINELLO:                        |
  |                                                              |
  |    "Awakening." (A Litter of Puppies.) Half Chromo, size,    |
  | 8-3/8 by 11-1/8, price $2.00, and a copy of PUNCHINELLO for  |
  |                     one year, for $4.00.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |    "Wild Roses." Chromo, 12-1/8 by 9, price $3.00, or any    |
  | other $3.00 Chromo, and a copy of the paper for one year for |
  |                            $5.00.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |      "The Baby in Trouble." Chromo, 13 by 16-1/4, price      |
  |  $6.00 or any other at $6.00, or any two Chromos at $3.00,   |
  |       and a copy of the paper for one year, for $6.00.       |
  |                                                              |
  |      "Sunset,--California Scenery," after A. Bierstadt,      |
  | 18-1/8 by 12, price $10.00, or any other $10.00 Chromo, and  |
  |   a copy of the paper for one year for $10.00. Or the four   |
  |  Chromes, and four copies of the paper for one year in one   |
  |            order, for clubs of FOUR, for $23.00.             |
  |                                                              |
  |  We will send to any one a printed list of L. PRANG & CO.'S  |
  | Chromos, from which a selection can be made, if the above is |
  | not satisfactory, and are prepared to make special terms for |
  |             clubs to any amount, and to agents.              |
  |                                                              |
  |  Postage of paper is payable at the office where received,   |
  | twenty cents per year, or five cents per quarter in advance; |
  |    the CHROMOS will be _mailed free_ on receipt of money.    |
  |                                                              |
  |  Remittances should be made in P.O. Orders, Drafts, or Bank  |
  | Checks on New-York, or Registered letters. The paper will be |
  |    sent from the first number, (April 2d, 1870,) when not    |
  |                      otherwise ordered.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |   Now is the time to subscribe, as these Premiums will be    |
  |       offered for a limited time only. On receipt of a       |
  |    postage-stamp we will send a copy of No. 1 to any one     |
  |                  desiring to get up a club.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                           Address                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |       P.O. Box 2783.   No. 83 Nassau Street, New-York.       |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: "GREAT BARE-BACK PERFORMANCE BY THE STAR EQUESTRIENNE."
_Rural Old Lady_. "BARE-BACK, INDEED!--THAT'S NO WORD FOR IT, MY DEAR!"]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |          "The Printing House of the United States."          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    GEO. F. NESBITT & CO.,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    General JOB PRINTERS,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                   BLANK DOOR Manufactuars,                   |
  |               STATIONERS Wholesale and Retail,               |
  |             LITHOGRAPHIC Engravers and Printers,             |
  |                      CARD Manufactuars,                      |
  |                    ENVELOPE Manufactuars,                    |
  |                 FINE CUT and COLOR Printers.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |              163, 165, 167, and 169 PEARL ST.,               |
  |            73, 75, 77 and 79 PINE ST., New-York.             |
  |                                                              |
  |  ADVANTAGES: All on the same premises, and under immediate   |
  |               supervision of the proprietors.                |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                 Bowling Green Savings-Bank,                  |
  |                         33 BROADWAY,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW-YORK.                           |
  |                                                              |
  |            Open Every Day from 10 A.M. to 3 P.M.             |
  |                                                              |
  |          Deposits of any sum, from Ten Cents to Ten          |
  |             Thousand Dollars, will be received.              |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Six Per Cent Interest,                    |
  |                   Free of Government Tax.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                   INTEREST ON NEW DEPOSITS                   |
  |                                                              |
  |            Commences on the first of every month.            |
  |                                                              |
  |                  HENRY SMITH, _President_.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                REEVES E. SELMES, _Secretary_.                |
  |                                                              |
  |        WALTER ROCHE, EDWARD HOGAN, _Vice-Presidents_         |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  SARATOGA "A" SPRING WATER.                  |
  |                                                              |
  | A POSITIVE CURE FOR HEADACHES A GREAT REMEDY FOR INDIGESTION |
  |    AND DYSPEPSIA.--Keeps the blood cool and regulates the    |
  |  stomach. Persons subject to headache can insure themselves  |
  |   freedom from this malady by drinking it liberally in the   |
  |                  morning before breakfast.                   |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |  PRANG'S CHROMOS are celebrated for their close resemblance  |
  |   to oil paintings. Sold in all Art Stores throughout the    |
  |                            world.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |     PRANG'S LATEST CHROMOS: "Four Seasons" by J.M. Hart.     |
  |  Illustrated Catalogues sent free on receipt of stamp by L.  |
  |                     PRANG & CO., Boston.                     |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                        PROSPECTUS OF                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                     POMEROY'S DEMOCRAT.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                           FOR 1870                           |
  |                                                              |
  |           UNPARALLELED INDUCEMENTS FOR SUBSCRIBERS           |
  |                                                              |
  | POMEROY'S DEMOCRAT for 1870 will be the best newspaper ever  |
  |      printed. It has now a larger circulation than ever      |
  | before--the largest circulation of any political paper ever  |
  | printed, and is now so firmly established it can not by any  |
  |                     possible means fail.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |  Mr. Pomeroy, Editor and Proprietor, will devote his entire  |
  |  time and attention to editorial and literary labor for THE  |
  |   DEMOCRAT alone, each week adding to the power, interest,   |
  |  worth, and variety of the reading matter it will contain.   |
  |  With the people to back him--abundant means of his own at   |
  |   his disposal, he is devoting his life to this paper, the   |
  |    people who support it, the cause it advocates, and the    |
  |   principles it defends, without fear, favor, or hope for    |
  |                           reward.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |               Read the terms and inducements!                |
  |                                                              |
  |  In addition to its political worth, THE DEMOCRAT will each  |
  |                        week contain:                         |
  |                                                              |
  |         Pomeroy's Saturday Night Chapters. Letters of        |
  |  Correspondence. Editorials on different topics. Pomeroy's   |
  |  Social Chat with Friends. Terrance McGrant's Letters. Full  |
  |    Market Produce, and Money Reports. A Splendid Masonic     |
  |    Department. Happenings Here and There. Brief Items of     |
  | Satire, News, Sarcasm, and Burlesque. Discriptive Letters of |
  |  Travels. Occasional "Pomeroy Pictures of New York Life." A  |
  |             First-Class Agricultural Department.             |
  |                                                              |
  |  In short, everything to make it the best and most readable  |
  |                 paper in the United States.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |   Politically it will be Democratic--red-hot and reliable    |
  |     earnest and continuous in its war against the bonded     |
  |  interest of the country, and determined in its labors for   |
  | that earnest Democracy, which believes in the _restoration_  |
  |       and not the _reconstruction_ of the Government.        |
  |                                                              |
  |   Thankful to those who, in every State of the Union, and    |
  | almost every county of the United States, have so generously |
  |  sustained THE DEMOCRAT before its removal to New-York, and  |
  |  since, we offer the following premiums--as an evidence of   |
  |       gratitude to those who forward from time to time       |
  |                         subscribers:                         |
  |                                                              |
  |              SINGLE COPIES, per year ... $2.50               |
  |                                                              |
  |   TEN COPIES. one year to one post-office (we writing the    |
  |  names of subscribers on each paper), and one copy for the   |
  |       year to the one who sends us the club ... $20.00       |
  |                                                              |
  |  TWENTY COPIES. one year to one post-office (we writing the  |
  | names of subscribers on each paper), with an extra copy for  |
  |     the year, and a copy of each of Pomeroy's two books,     |
  |  "Sense," and "Nonsense," to the getter-up of the club ...   |
  |                            $40.00                            |
  |                                                              |
  |  THIRTY COPIES. one year to one post-office (we writing the  |
  |  names of subscribers on each paper), with two extra copies  |
  |   for the year, and a copy of each of Pomeroy's two books,   |
  |     "Sense," and "Nonsense," and "Saturday Night," just      |
  |      published to the getter-up of the club ... $60.00       |
  |                                                              |
  |         WILCOX AND GIBBS SEWING MACHINES AS PREMIUMS         |
  |                                                              |
  |     For fifty-six subscribers, with $112, a $56 machine.     |
  |                                                              |
  |       For sixty subscribers, with $120, a $60 machine.       |
  |                                                              |
  |    For sixty-five subscribers, with $130, a $65 machine.     |
  |                                                              |
  |   For one-hundred subscribers, with $200, a $100 machine.    |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                       IMPORTANT NOTICE                       |
  |                                                              |
  |   If you can not conveniently raise subscribers enough to    |
  |  entitle you to a machine, as a premium, send what you can,  |
  |    with two dollars for each subscriber so sent, and the     |
  |  balance in cash for such priced machine as you so desire,   |
  |   when the paper and the machine will be sent as directed.   |
  |                                                              |
  |  For example, where thirty subscribers and $60 are sent, it  |
  |   will require $26 in cash in addition to the subscription   |
  |  money to purchase a $56 machine; or, for forty subscribers  |
  |   and $80, sixteen dollars additional will be required to    |
  |   purchase the same priced machine, and son in proportion.   |
  |                                                              |
  | We offer these unrivalled machines, believing them to be the |
  |     simplest, most durable, useful, and desirable sewing     |
  | machines in the world, with a view to giving workingmen, or  |
  |  deserving woman a chance to obtain a machine for much less  |
  |            money than in any other possible way.             |
  |                                                              |
  |    There is hardly a township in the United States, but a    |
  |    person can, in a day or two, earn for himself a family    |
  | machine, actually worth the price asked for it--the same as  |
  | sold at, when purchased of Wilcox & Gibbs, the manufactures. |
  |                                                              |
  | In many cases a few gentlemen might, by sending their names  |
  |  to us as subscribers, receive for themselves THE DEMOCRAT   |
  |    each week, and a machine for some poor widow or other     |
  |    deserving woman, thus giving her the power to care for    |
  |          herself and family, and live independant.           |
  |                                                              |
  | Each machine we send out will be _perfect_, and of the very  |
  |                            best.                             |
  |                                                              |
  | Address all letters on business connected with the office to |
  |    C.P. Sykes, Publisher, P.O. Box 5,217, New-York City.     |
  |                                                              |
  |   Letters on political matters should be addressed to M.M.   |
  |  Pomeroy, and if the writer wishes them to be seen only by   |
  |  the person to whom they are address, they should be marked  |
  | private, when, if Mr. Pomeroy is not in the city, they will  |
  | be forwarded to him immediately by mail, express, or special |
  |                          messenger.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |     In ordering papers, be careful to write the names of     |
  |   subscribers with the post-office, county, and state very   |
  |  plain, that there may be no mistakes in entering names or   |
  |                      forwarding papers.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |    Retail price of the paper when sold by newsdealers or     |
  |                     newsboys, SIX CENTS                      |
  |                                                              |
  |        Additions can be made to clubs at $2 per year.        |
  |                                                              |
  |                 _Specimen Copies sent free_                  |
  |                                                              |
  | In forwarding sums of money for clubs of subscribers, drafts |
  |    or money orders should always be used, as, if lost or     |
  |  stolen, they can be duplicated, and no financial loss will  |
  |           be sustained by the parties interested.            |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |       C.P. SYKES, Publisher, Box 5,217, New-York City.       |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
S. W. GREEN, PRINTER, CORNER JACOB AND FRANKFORT STREETS.
and PG Distributed Proofreaders
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                           CONANT'S                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                        PATENT BINDERS                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                             FOR                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO",                        |
  |                                                              |
  |  to preserve the paper for binding, will be sent post-paid,  |
  |                 on receipt of One Dollar, by                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |               83 Nassau Street, New York City.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         J.M. SPRAGUE                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Is the Authorized Agent of                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO"                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                           For the                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                     New England States,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  To Procure Subscriptions,                   |
  |                  and to Employ Canvassers.                   |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  HARRISON BRADFORD & CO.'S                   |
  |                         STEEL PENS.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |     These Pens are of a finer quality, more durable, and     |
  | cheaper than any other Pen in the market. Special attention  |
  |  is called to the following grades, as being better suited   |
  |     for business purposes than any Pen manufactured. The     |
  |                                                              |
  |            "505," "22," and the "Anti-Corrosive,"            |
  |                                                              |
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Vol. I. No. 18
SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD,
By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.
[Sidenote: See 15th Page for Extra Premiums.]
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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.
       *       *       *       *       *
MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.
AN ADAPTATION,
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.
CHAPTER XII.
A NIGHT OF IT WITH MCLAUGHLIN.
Judge SWEENEY, with a certain supercilious consciousness that he is
figuring in a novel, and that it will not do for him to thwart the
eccentricities of mysterious fiction by any commonplace deference to the
mere meteorological weaknesses of ordinary human nature, does not allow
the fact that late December is a rather bleak and cold time of year to
deter him from taking daily airings in the neighborhood of the
Ritualistic churchyard. Since the inscription of his epitaph on his late
wife upon her monument therein, the churchyard is to him a kind of
ponderous work of imagination with marble leaves, to which he has
contributed the most brilliant chapter; and when he sees any stranger
hovering about a part of the outer railings from whence the inscription
may be read, it is with all the swelling pride of an author who, having
procured the publication of some dreary article in a magazine, is thrown
into an ecstacy of vanity if he sees but one person glance at that
number of the periodical on a news-stand.
Since his first meeting with Mr. BUMSTEAD, on the evening of the
epitaph-reading, Judge SWEENEY has cultivated that gentleman's
acquaintance, and been received at his lodgings several times with
considerable cordiality and lemon-tea. On such occasions, Mr. BUMSTEAD,
in his musical capacity, has sung so closely in Judge SWEENEY'S ear as
to tickle him, a wild and slightly incoherent Ritualistic stave, to the
effect that Saint PETER'S of Rome, with pontifical dome, would by ballot
Infallible be; but for making Call sure, and Election secure, Saint
Repeater's of Rum beats the See. With finger in ear to allay the
tickling sensation, JUDGE SWEENEY declares that this young man smelling
of cloves is a person of great intellectual attainments, and understands
the political genius of his country well enough to make an excellent
Judge of Election.
Walking slowly near the churchyard on this particular freezing December
evening, with his hands behind his bank, and his eyes intent for any
envious husband who may be "with a rush retiring," monumentally
counselled, after reading the Epitaph, Judge SWEENEY suddenly comes upon
Father DEAN conversing with SMYTHE, the sexton, and Mr. BUMSTEAD. Bowing
to these three, who, like himself, seem to find real luxury in open-air
strolling on a bitter night in midwinter, he notices that his model, the
Ritual Rector, is wearing a new hat, like Cardinal's, only black, and is
immediately lost in wondering where he can obtain one like it short of
"You look so much like an author, Mr. BUMSTEAD, in having no overcoat,
wearing your paper collar upside down, and carrying a pen behind your
ear," Father DEAN is saying, "that I can almost fancy you are about to
write a book about us. Well, Bumsteadville is just the place to furnish
a nice, dry, inoffensive domestic novel in the sedative vein."
After two or three ineffectual efforts to seize the end of it, which he
seems to think is an inch or two higher than its actual position, Mr.
BUMSTEAD finally withdraws from between his right ear and head a long
and neatly cut hollow straw.
"This is not a pen, Holy Father," he answers, after a momentary glance
of majestic severity at Mr. SMYTHE, who has laughed. "It is only a
simple instrument which I use, as a species of syphon, in certain
chemical experiments with sliced tropical fruit and glass-ware. In the
precipitation of lemon-slices into cut crystal, it is necessary for the
liquid medium to be exhausted gradually; and, after using this cylinder
of straw for the purpose about an hour ago, I must have placed it behind
my ear in a moment of absent-mindedness."
"Ah, I see," said Father DEAN, although he didn't. "But what is this,
Judge SWEENEY, respecting your introduction of MCLAUGHLIN to Mr.
BUMSTEAD, which I have heard about?"
"Why, your Reverence, I consider JOHN MCLAUGHLIN a Character," responds
the Judge, "and thought our young friend of the organ-loft might like to
"The truth is," explains Mr. BUMSTEAD, "that Judge SWEENEY put into my
head to do a few pauper graves with JOHN MCLAUGHLIN, some moonlight
night, for the mere oddity and dampness of the thing.--And I should
regret to believe," added Mr. BUMSTEAD, raising his voice as saw that
the judiciary was about to interrupt--"And I should really be loathe to
believe that Judge SWEENEY was not perfectly sober when he did so."
"Oh, yes--certainly--I remember--to be sure," exclaims the Judge, in
great haste; alarmed into speedy assent by the construction which he
perceives would be put upon a denial. "I remember it very distinctly. I
remember putting it into your head--by the tumblerful, if I remember
"Profiting by your advice," continues Mr. BUMSTEAD, oblivious to the
last sentence, I am going out to-night, in search of the moist and
picturesque, with JOHN MCLAUGHLIN--"
"Who is here," says Father DEAN.
OLD MORTARITY, dinner-kettle in hand and more mortary than ever, indeed
seen approaching them with shuffling gait. Bowing to the Holy Father, he
is about to pass on, when Judge SWEENEY stops him with--
"You must be very careful with your friend, BUMSTEAD, this evening, JOHN
MCLAUGHLIN, and see that he don't fall and break his neck."
"Never you worry about Mr. BUMSTEAD, Judge," growls OLD MORTARITY. "He
can walk further off the perpendicklar without tumbling than any
gentleman I ever see."
"Of course I can, JOHN MCLAUGHLIN," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, checking another
unseemly laugh of Mr. SMYTHE'S with a dreadful frown. "I often practice
walking sideways, for the purpose of developing the muscles on that
side. The left side is always the weaker, and the hip a trifle lower, if
one does not counteract the difference by walking sideways
occasionally."
A great deal of unnecessary coughing, which follows this physiological
exposition, causes Mr. BUMSTEAD to breathe hard at them all for a
moment, and tread with great malignity upon Mr. SMYTHE'S nearest corn.
While yet the sexton is groaning, OLD MORTARITY whispers to the
Ritualistic organist that he will be ready for him at the appointed hour
to-night, and shuffles away. After which Mr. BUMSTEAD, with the I hollow
straw sticking out fiercely from his ear, privately offers to see Father
DEAN home if he feels at all dizzy; and, being courteously refused,
retires down the turnpike toward his own lodgings with military
precision of step.
When night falls upon the earth like a drop of ink upon the word Sun,
and the stars glitter like the points of so many poised gold pens all
ready to write the softer word Moon above the blot, the organist of St.
Cow's sits in his own room, where his fire keeps-up a kind of aspenish
twilight, and executes upon his accordeon a series of wild and mutilated
airs. The moistened towel which he often wears when at home is turbaned
upon his head, causing him to present a somewhat Turkish appearance; and
as, when turning a particularly complicated corner in an air, it is his
artistic habit to hold his tongue between his teeth, twist his head in
sympathy with the elaborate fingering, and involuntarily lift one foot
higher and higher from the floor as some skittish note frantically
dodges to evade him, his general musical aspect at his own hearth is
that of a partially Oriental gentleman, agonizingly laboring to cast
from him some furious animal full of strange sounds. Thus engaging in
desperate single combat with what, for making a ferocious fight before
any recognizable tune can he rescued from it, is, perhaps, the most
exhausting instrument known to evening amateurs and maddened
neighborhoods, Mr. BUMSTEAD passes three athletic hours. At the end of
that time, after repeatedly tripping-up its exasperated organist over
wrong keys in the last bar, the accordeon finally relinquishes the
concluding note with a dismal whine of despair, and retires in complete
collapse to its customary place of waiting. Then the conquering
performer changes his towel for a hat which would look better if it had
not been so often worn in bed, places an antique black bottle in one
pocket of his coat and a few cloves in the other; hangs an unlighted
lantern before him by a cord passing about his neck, and, with his
umbrella under his arm, goes softly down stairs and out of the house.
Repairing to the marble-yard and home of OLD MORTARITY, which are on the
outskirts of Bumsteadville, he wanders through mortar-heaps, monuments
brought for repair, and piles of bricks, toward a whitewashed residence
of small demensions with a light at the window.
"JOHN McLAUGHLIN, ahoy!"
In response, the master of the mansion promptly opens the door, and it
is then perceptible that his basement, parlor, spare-bedroom and attic
are all on one floor, and that a couple of pigs are spending the season
with him. Showing his visitor into this ingeniously condensed
establishment, he induces the pigs to retire to a corner, and then dons
"Are you ready, JOHN MCLAUGHLIN?"
"Please the pigs, I am, Mr. BUMSTEAD," answers MCLAUGHLIN, taking down
from a hook a lantern, which, like his companion's, he hangs from his
neck by a cord. "My spirits is equal to any number of ghosts to-night,
sir, if we meet 'em."
"Spirits!" ejaculates the Ritualistic organist, shifting his umbrella
for a moment while he hurriedly draws the antique bottle from his
pocket. "You're nervous to-night, J. MCLAUGHLIN, and need a little of
the venerable JAMES AKER'S West Indian Restorative.--I'll try it first
to make sure that I haven't mistaken the phial."
He rests the elongated orifice of the diaphanous flask upon his lips for
a brief interval of critical inspection, and then applies it
thoughtfully to the mouth of OLD MORTARITY.
"Some more! Some more!" pleads the aged MCLAUGHLIN, when the Jamaican
nervine is abruptly jerked from his lips.
"Silence! Com on," is the stern response of the other, who, as he moves
from the house, and restores the crystal antiquity to its proper pocket,
eats a few cloves by stealth. His manner plainly shows that he is
offended at the quantity the old man has managed to swallow already.
Strange indeed is the ghastly expedition to the place of skulls, upon
which these two go thus by night. Not strange, perhaps, for Mr.
MCLAUGHLIN, whose very youth in New York, where he was an active
politician, found him a frequent nightly familiar of the Tombs; but
strange for the organist, who, although often grave in his manner,
sepulchral in his tones, and occasionally addicted to coughin', must be
curiously eccentric to wish to pass into concert that evening with the
Transfixed by his umbrella, which makes him look like a walking cross
between a pair of boots and a hat, Mr. BUMSTEAD leads the way athwart
the turnpike and several fields, until they have arrived at a low wall
skirting the foot of Gospeler's Gulch. Here they catch sight of the
Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON and MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON walking together,
near the former's house, in the moonlight, and, instantaneously, Mr.
BUMSTEAD opens his umbrella over the head of OLD MORTARITY, and drags
him down beside himself under it behind the wall.
"Hallo! What's all this?" gasps Mr. MCLAUGHLIN, struggling affrightedly
in his suffocating cage of whalebone and alpaca. "What's this here old
lady's hoop-skirt doing on me?"
"Peace, wriggling dotard!" hisses BUMSTEAD, jamming the umbrella tighter
over him. "If they see us they'll want some of the West Indian
Restorative."
Mr. SIMPSON and MONTGOMERY have already heard a sound; for they pause
abruptly in their conversation, and the latter asks: "Could it have been
"Ask it if it's a ghost," whispers the Gospeler, involuntarily crossing
"Are you there, Mr. G.?" quavers the raised voice of the young
Southerner, respectfully addressing the inquiry to the stone wall.
"Well," mutters the Gospeler, "it couldn't have been a ghost, after all;
but I certainly thought I saw an umbrella. To conclude what I was
saying, then,--I have the confidence in you, Mr. MONTGOMERY, to believe
that you will attend the dinner of Reconciliation on Christmas eve, as
you have promised."
"Depend on me, sir."
"I shall; and have become surety for your punctuality to that excellent
and unselfish healer of youthful wounds, Mr. BUMSTEAD."
More is said after this; but the speakers have strolled to the other
side of the Gospeler's house, and their words cannot be distinguished
Mr. BUMSTEAD closes his umbrella with such suddenness and violence as to
nearly pull off the head of MCLAUGHLIN; drives his own hat further upon
his nose with a sounding blow; takes several wild swallows from his
antique flask; eats two cloves, and chuckles hoarsely to himself for
some minutes. "Here, 'JOHN MCLAUGHLIN," he says, at last "try a little
more West Indian Restorative, and then we'll go and do a few skeletons."
(_To be Continued_.)
       *       *       *       *       *
What is Likely to be Raised some day, regarding the Pneumatic
TUBAL. CAIN.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration. PUNCHINELLO CORRESPONDENCE.]
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
In order to make this department of PUNCHINELLO as complete as possible,
we have secured the services of the most competent authorities in
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may therefore be relied upon as being strictly accurate.
  _Scales_.--How old was DANIEL LAMBERT at the time of his death?
_Answer_.--736 lbs.
  _Ignoramus_.--Why were the Roman _Saturnalia_ so called?
_Answer_.--The proper spelling of the word is _Sauternalia_. They were
wine feasts; and the vintage most in favor at them was Haut Sauterne.
  _Chasseur_. Is the antelope to be classed among the goat family?
_Answer_.--No. MOORE calls it a "deer gazelle."
  _Armiger_.--Is "arm's length" a recognized measure?
_Answer_.--Yes. It is a _Standard_ measure, as may be seen in the way
that journal is getting ahead of the _Sun_, which it keeps at arm's
  _Molar_.--Yes; burnt Cork is an excellent dentifrice. It should not
  be applied to the teeth of children, however, as it is apt to impart an
  Irish accent, or, in extreme cases, even a negro dialect.
  _Bookworm_.--Do two negatives always constitute an affirmative?
_Answer_.--That depends upon the price charged by the photographer.
  _Sunswick_--Is it true that JAMES FISK, Jr., has purchased Baden and
  another German Duchy?
_Answer_.--No: but he could have both if he wanted two.
  _Rockland_.--Who are the suffering persons represented in DORE'S
  remarkable picture of DANTE and VIRGIL visiting the frozen ward of the
  _Inferno_?
_Answer_.--The Knickerbocker Ice Company.
  _Solitaire_.--On what day did the Fourth of July fall in the year 1788?
_Answer_.--On the Fourth.
  _James Lobbs_.--How long ago is it since desiccated soup first came
_Answer_.--At least as long ago as the days of CROMWELL, whose advice to
his troops was "Put your trust in Providence, and keep your chowder
  _Bach_.--Is the practice of divorce a mark of civilization?
_Answer_--It is. In the Gorilla family, (the nearest approach to the
human,) divorce is not practiced, but it is in Indiana, which is usually
considered to be a State of Civilization.
       *       *       *       *       *
PAT TO THE QUESTION.
Our law-makers in Congress--or rather law-cobblers, for few of them have
risen to the dignity of makers--are asked to repeal the _per cap_. duty
imposed by California on all Chinamen imported there.
The Californians have the authority of Congress itself, for this duty.
By reference to "HEYL'S Rates of Duties on Imports," page 36, art. 691,
under head of "Act of June 30, 1864, chap. 171," "An act to increase
Duties on Imports," etc., we find "on paddy one cent and a half per
pound." Now if a good-sized Irishman pays $2.25, why shouldn't a
"Celestial" pay as much in proportion to the weight of his _corpus_?
       *       *       *       *       *
Contradictory.
It appears that, by a joint resolution of Congress, the use of "that
first-class humbug and fraud, the whiskey meter," has been abolished.
Now there are dozens of members of Congress who are not only
"first-class humbugs and frauds," but whiskey meters, to whom whiskey is
both meat and drink, and yet who ever heard of their proposing to
abolish themselves?
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: STAY-AT-HOME PEOPLE
FOLKS MAY NOT BE ABLE TO GO TO NEWPORT OR LONG BRANCH, BUT THEY CAN
ALWAYS CREATE A LOCAL SENSATION BY TAKING A FOOT-BATH IN THE BACK-YARD.]
       *       *       *       *       *
MURPHY THE CONQUEROR
BY CORPORAL QUINN.
  Come tip us your fist, then, yer sowl you;
    Since iver I come from the wars
  The like wasn't heerd. Fill the bowl you
    Bowld sons of MILESIUS and MARS;
  And dhrink to ould Ireland the turfy
    That's shmilin' out there in the say,
  Wid three cheers for the conqueror MURPHY.
    Whoo! America's ours from to-day.
  Och! SAYZAR he walloped the Briton,
    The Tarthars leap't China's big wall,
  ALEXANDTHUR did half the wurld sit on,
    But niver touched Ireland at all.
  At Clontarf ould BOBU in the surf he
    Sint tumblin' the murdtherin' Danes--
  But, yer sowl, the brave conqueror MURPHY
    Takes the shine out of all of their panes.
  ULYSSES has made him Collecthor,
    (Sich choppin' o' heads ne'er was seen;)
  Sure the hayro will make me Inspecthor
    Whin there's so many "wigs on the green."
  And we'll be night-watchmen uproarious,
    Wid big badges on our coats,
  And we'll fight for TOM MURPHY the glorious,
    Wid our fists, our guns, and our votes.
  At the Custom House, Dutchman and Yankee
    Are thryin' to talk wid a brogue,
  They're all _Irish_, now--fat, lean, or lanky,
    And green are the neckties in vogue.
  They're thracin' themselves to some DURPHY,
    O'NEILL, or McCANN, or O'TAAFFE,
  I'll go bail the bowld conqueror MURPHY
    'S too owld to be caught wid sich chaff.
  Now Dutchmin may go to the divil,
    And Yankees to Plymouth's ould rock,
  We'll blast it, if they are not civil;
    While boys of the raal ould stock
  Will hurroo for ould Ireland the turfy.
    Whoo! Jibralthar is taken to-day,
  Our commandther's the conqueror MURPHY--
    Now a tiger and nine times hoorray!
       *       *       *       *       *
COMIC ZOOLOGY.
Genus Culex.--The American Mosquito
Few American birds are better known than the mosquito. In common with
the woodcock, snipe, and other winged succubi, it breeds in wet places,
yet is always dry. Like them it can sustain life on mud juleps, but
prefers "cluret." It is a familiar creature, seems to regard the human
family as its Blood relations, and is always ready to sucker them.
Being a bird of Nocturnal Habits, it is particularly attracted to human
beings in their Night-shirts. The swallow preys upon it, but it
generally eludes the Bat. Although it cannot be called Noctilucous, like
the lightning bug, it has no objection to alight in the darkness, and
you often knock till you cuss in your vain attempts to prevent its
taking a Shine to you.
The mosquito differs in most respects from all the larger varieties of
the winged tribes, and upon the whole takes after man more than any
other living thing. Nevertheless, it certainly bears a noticeable
resemblance to some of the feathered race. Like the Nightingale, it
"sings darkling," and like the woodpecker, is much addicted to tapping
the bark of Limbs and Trunks for the purpose of obtaining grub. It may
be mentioned as an amiable idiosyncracy of the mosquito, that it is fond
of babies. If there is a child in the house, it is sure to spot the
playful innocent; and by means of an ingenious contrivance combining the
principles of the gimlet and the air-pump, it soon relieves the little
human bud of its superfluous juices. It is, in fact, a born surgeon, a
Sangrado of the Air, and rivals that celebrated Spanish Leech in its
fondness for phlebotomy. Some infidels, who do not subscribe to the
doctrine that nothing was made in vain, consider it an unmitigated
nuisance, but the devout and thoughtful Christian recognizes it as
Nature's preventive of plethora, and as it alternately breathes a Vein
and a song, it may be said (though we never heard the remark,) to
combine the _utile_ with the _dulce_.
All the members of the genus are slender and graceful in their shape and
Gnatty in their general appearance. The common mosquito is remarkable
for its strong attachments. It follows man with more than canine
fidelity, and in some cases, the dog-like pertinacity of its affection
can only be restrained by Muslin. It is of a roving disposition, seldom
remaining settled long in one locality; and is Epicurean in its
tastes--always living, if possible, on the fat of the land. As the
mosquito produces no honey, mankind in general are not as sweet upon it
as they are upon that bigger hum-bug, the buzzy bee; yet it is so far
akin to the bee, that, wherever it forages, it produces something
closely resembling Hives.
Few varieties of game are hunted more industriously than this, yet such
is the fecundity of the species, that the Sportsman's Club has not as
yet thought it necessary to petition the legislature for its protection.
The New Jersey Mosquito is the largest known specimen of the genus,
except the Southern Gallinipper, which is only a few sizes smaller than
the Virginia Nightingale, and raises large speckles similar to those of
the Thrush. Ornithologists who wish to study the habits of the mosquito
in its undomesticated or nomad state, may find it in angry clouds on the
surface of the New Jersey salt marshes at this season, in company with
its teetering long-billed Congener, the Sandsnipe.
During the last month of summer it reigns supreme in the swamps west of
Hoboken, the August Emperor of all the Rushes, and persons of an
apoplectic turn, who wish to have their surplus blood determined to the
surface instead of to the head, will do well to seek the hygienic insect
       *       *       *       *       *
An Apt Quotation.
The name "Louvre" has now been adopted by several places of
entertainment in New York and its suburbs. A Boston gentleman, who
visited seven of them a night or two since, under the escort of a
policeman, declares that, by a slight alteration of a line of MOORE's,
New York may be well described as--
"A place for Louvres, and for Louvres only."
       *       *       *       *       *
THE WATERING PLACES.
Punchinello's Vacations.
Mr. PUNCHINELLO puts up at the Atlantic Hotel when he goes to Cape May;
and if you were to ask him why, he would tell you that it was on account
of the admirable water-punches which JOHN McMAKIN serves up. To be sure
these mixtures do not agree with Mr. P., but he likes to see people
enjoying themselves, even if he can't do it himself. It is this
unselfish disposition, this love of his fellow-men, that enables him to
maintain that constant good humor so requisite to his calling. In fact,
though Mr. P. often says sharp things, he never gets angry. When, on
Thursday of last week, he was walking down the south side of Jackson
street, and a man asked him did he want to buy a bag, Mr. P. was not
enraged. He knew the man took him for a greenhorn, but then the man
himself was a Jerseyman. It is no shame to be a greenhorn to a
Jerseyman. Quite the reverse. Mr. P. would blush if he thought there
lived a "sand-Spaniard" who could not take advantage of him. So Mr. P.
bought the bag, and because it was made of very durable canvas, and
would last a great while, he paid a dollar for it.
He did not ask what it was for. He knew. It was to put Cape May Diamonds
in! He put the bag in his pocket and walked along the beach for three
miles. You can't walk more than three miles here, and if you hire a
carriage you will find that you can't ride less than that distance.
Which makes it bad, sometimes. However, when Mr. P. had finished his
three miles, he didn't want to go any further. He stopped, and gazing
carelessly around to see that no one noticed him, pulled out his canvas
bag and did shuffle a little in the sand with his feet. He might
find some diamonds, you know, just as likely as any of the hundreds of
other people, who, in other sequestered parts of the beach, were pulling
out other canvas bags, and shuffling in the sand with other feet. At
length Mr. P. shuffled himself into a very sequestered nook indeed, and
there he saw a man smoking. His melancholy little boy was sitting by his
side. Perceiving that it was only General GRANT, Mr. P. advanced with
his usual grace and suavity of manner.
"Why, Mr. President!" said he, "I thought you would be found at Long
Branch this season."
"Long--thunder!" ejaculated the General, his face as black as the ace of
spades, (which, by the way, is blue.) "I might go to Nova Zembla for a
quiet smoke, and some sneaking politician would crawl out from the ice
with a petition. I went fishing in Pennsylvania, and I found twenty of
those fellows to every trout. However, I don't mind you. Take a seat and
have a cigar."
[Illustration.]
Mr. P. took the seat, (which was nothing to brag of,) and a cigar,
(which would have been a great deal to brag of, if he had succeeded in
smoking it,) and, after a whiff or two, asked his companion how it was
that he came to send such a message to Congress about Cuba.
"What message?" said GRANT, absently.
Mr. P. explained.
"Oh," said GRANT, "that one! Didn't you like it? CALEB CUSHING wrote it
and brought it to me, and I signed it. If you had written one and
brought it to me, I would have signed that. 'Tisn't my fault if the
thing's wrong. What would you expect of a man?"
Mr. P. concluded that in this case it was ridiculous to expect anything
else, and so he changed the subject.
That afternoon Mr. P. bathed.
He went to SLOAN'S and fitted himself out in a bathing suit, and very
lovely he looked in it, when he emerged from the bathing house at
high tide. With a red tunic; green pants; and a very yellow hat, he
resembled a frog-legged Garibaldian, ready for the harvest.
When he hurried to the water's edge, he hesitated for a moment. The
roaring surf was so full of heads, legs, arms, back-hair, hats and feet,
that he feared there was no room for him. However, he espied a vacancy,
and plunged into the briny deep.
How delicious! How cool! How fresh! How salt! How splendid!
He struck out with his legs; he struck out with his arms; he dived with
his whole body. He skimmed beneath the green waters; he floated on the
rolling wave-tips; he trod water; he turned heels over head in the
emerald depths; and thus, gamboling like an Infant Triton, he passed out
beyond the breakers. It was very pleasant there. Being a little tired,
he found the change from the surging waves to the gentle chuck and flop
of the deep water, most delightful. Languidly, to rest himself, he threw
his arm over a rock just peeping above the water. But the rock gave a
start and a yawn.
It was a sleeping shark!
The startled fish opened his eyes to their roundest, and backed water.
So did Mr. P.
For an instant they gazed at each other in utter surprise. Then the
shark began slowly to sink. Mr. P. knew what that meant. The monster was
striving to get beneath him for the fatal snap!
Mr. P. sank with him!
With admirable presence of mind he kept exactly even with the fish.
[Illustration.]
At last they reached the bottom.
Mr. P. was nearly suffocated, but he determined that he would strangle
rather than rise first. The shark endeavored to crawl under him, but Mr.
P. clung to the bottom.
The fish then made a feint of rising, but, in an instant, Mr. P. had him
around the waist!
The affrighted shark darted to the surface, and Mr. P. inhaled at least
a gallon of fresh air. Never before had oxygen tasted so good!
On the surface the struggle was renewed, but Mr. P. always kept
At last they rested from the contest, and lay panting on the surface of
the water, glaring at each other.
The shark, who was a master of _finesse_, swam out a little way, to
where the water was deeper, and then slowly sank, intending, if Mr. P.
followed him again to the bottom, to stay there long enough to drown the
unfortunate man. But Mr. P. knew a trick worth two of that.
_He didn't follow him at all_! He swam towards shore as fast as he
could, and when the shark looked around, to see if he was coming, he was
safe within the line of surf.
Need it be said that when he reached dry laud, Mr. P. became a hero with
the crowds who had witnessed this heroic struggle?
That evening, as Mr. P. sat upon the portico of his hotel, there came
unto him, in the moonlight, a maiden of the latest fashion.
"Sir," she softly murmured "are you the noble hero who overcame the
Mr. P. looked up at her.
Her soft eyes were dimmed with irresponsible emotion.
"I am," said he.
The maiden stood motionless. Her whole frame was agitated by a secret
At length she spoke.
"Is there a Mrs. P.?" she softly said.
Mr. P. arose. He grasped the back of his chair with trembling hand. His
manly form quivered with a secret struggle.
He looked upon her!
He gazed for a moment, with glowing, passionate eyes, upon that
matchless form--upon that angelic face, and then--he clasped his brows
in hopeless agony. Stepping back, he gave the maiden one glance of
wildest love, followed by another of bitterest despair; and sank
helpless into his chair.
[Illustration.]
The maiden leaned, pale and trembling, against a pillar; but hearing the
approach of intruders, she recovered herself with an effort.
"Farewell," she whispered. "I know! I know! There _is_ a Mrs. P.!"--and
she was gone.
Mr. P. arose and slipped out into the night, shaken by a secret
struggle. He laid upon the sand and kicked up his heels.
_There isn't any_ Mrs. P.!
Mr. P. does not wish to sweep his hand rudely o'er the tender chords of
any heart, but he wants it known that he is neither to be snapped up by
sharks in the sea, or by young women at watering places.
       *       *       *       *       *
A DOG'S TALE.
I am only a dog, I admit; but do you suppose dogs have no feeling? I
guess if you were kicked out of every door-way you ran into, and driven
away from every meat stand or grocery you happened to smell around, you
would think you had feelings.
When I see some dogs riding in carriages, looking so grandly out of the
windows, or others walking along proudly by the side of their owners, I
have a feeling of dislike for the very thought of liberty!
I sometimes go with the crowd to a lecture-room, and listen to the
speeches about freedom and liberty, the hatred of bondage, and all that
sort of thing. I get my tail up, and wish I could tell them what liberty
really is. There is nothing worse in the world than this running around
loose, with no one to look after you, and no one for you to look after;
no one to notice you when you wag your tail, and to have no occasion for
so doing. You go out and you come in, and nobody cares. If you never
come back, no one troubles himself about you.
Every day I hear men reading in the papers about some lucky dogs having
strayed, or having been stolen, a large reward being offered for their
recovery: and I envy each lost dog! I wonder who would advertise for me
if I got lost! Alas! no one. They would not give me a bone to bring me
back, or to keep me from drowning myself. But every boy in the street
thinks he has a right to throw stones at me; and tie tin-kettles to my
tail; and chase me when I have had the good luck to find a bone; and to
set big dogs upon me to worry me when I am faint from hunger and haven't
much pluck; and worse than all, chase me and cry "Ki-yi," when I am
almost dying of thirst!
If you only knew how hard it is for a poor dog to make his way in the
world, with no one to help him to a mouthful of food, you would feel
sorry for us.
But I think we might get along better if it wasn't for the scarcity of
water. I hardly know a spot in the city where I can get a drink; and
many a time I have gone all day without a drop.
If I happen to hang out my tongue and droop my tail, my ears are saluted
with "Mad dog! Let's kill him!" You need not wonder I sometimes turn
round, and snap at my pursuers. I think you would snap, too, if you were
chased through street and lane and alley, till your blood was in a
perfect fever, and you hardly knew which way you were running! I have,
on many such occasions, actually run past a beautiful bone that lay
handy on the side-walk, and never stopped to smell it.
Oh! I wish some one would take me prisoner, and continue to own me, and
keep me in bondage as long as I lived! I should only be too happy to
give up my liberty, and settle down and be a respectable dog!
       *       *       *       *       *
A Bute-Iful Idea.
The Marquis of Bute denies that he is going to return to the Protestant
fold. With reference to the rumor, the Pope stated in the Ecumenical
Council that "the Bute was on the right leg at last, and that he would
launch his thunder against him who should dare that Bute displace."
       *       *       *       *       *
As the shades of night descend (in the neighborhood of Mecklenburg,
N.C.,) and harmless domestic animals begin to compose themselves to
sleep, suddenly the drowsy world is awakened by a roaring like that of a
lion! It proceeds from the forest, in whose bosky recesses (as the
Mecklenburgers suppose) some terrible creature proclaims his hunger and
his inclination to appease it with human flesh! All night long the
quaking denizens of that hamlet lie and listen to the roaring, which is
an effectual preventive of drowsiness, as the moment any one begins to
be seized with it he also begins to fancy he is about to be seized and
deglutinated by the horrid monster! Naturalists are positive it is not
the Gyascutis, but admit that a Megatherium may have lately awakened
from the magnetic sleep of ages, with the pangs of a mighty hunger
tearing his wasted viscera.
If our theory is correct, the good people of Mecklenburg (was it not in
Mecklenburg that the agitation for Independence began?) may be assured
that deliverance from this unreasonable Dragon is possible. We think it
more than likely that it is simply GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN practicing for
the next invasion of Great Britain. Nothing could be more harmless. One
Ku-Kluxian youth, armed with a double-barrelled shot-gun, four
bowie-knives, and a number of revolvers, could rout him instantly, and
even check the flow of his vociferous eloquence so suddenly as to put
him in imminent danger of asphyxia.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: RETRIBUTION.
THE BOYS OF SAN FRANCISCO, EXASPERATED AT THE CONVERSION OF THEIR DOGS
INTO PIE, TIE KETTLES TO THE TAILS OF THE CHINAMEN.]
       *       *       *       *       *
Giving the Cue.
"Is that one of your Chinese _belles_? asked Mr. PUNCHINELLO of Mr.
KOOPMAN-SCHOOP, as one of the newly-imported yallagals passed.
"Yes," replied Mr. K. "You can always tell a Chinese bell from a Chinese
gong by the bell-pull attached to it."
Mr. P. immediately presented his _chapeau_ to Mr. K.
       *       *       *       *       *
HINTS FOR--THOSE WHO WILL TAKE THEM.
Mr. PUNCHINELLO: Your invaluable "Hints for the Family," published some
time since, seem destined to work a revolution in our domestic economy;
as the plans you propose must win the admiration of housekeepers by
their extreme simplicity, aside from any other motives to their
adoption. I have myself tested several of your methods, and find that
you speak from thorough and circumstantial knowledge of your subject In
bread-making, for instance, we find that when the cat reposes in the
dough, it (the dough) will not rise, though the cat does. But in the
clock manufacture, we fear you have divulged one of the secrets of the
Your little invention for carrying a thread should be recommended to
students and other isolated beings, notwithstanding their unaccountable
propensity to pierce other substances than the cloth. They would find
driving the needle through much facilitated by a skilful use of the
table formerly described.
Permit me to make a few additional suggestions.
Get some worsted and a pair of needles; set up from twenty to forty
stitches, more or less, and knit till you are tired. When finished--(the
knitting)--draw out the needles and bite off the thread. You will thus
have made an elegant lamp-mat, of the same color as the worsted, and the
very thing for a Christmas present to your grandmother.
This is a very graceful employment, and a great favorite with ladies; in
fact, some ladies seem so infatuated with work of that kind, that,
according to the new theory of the Future, a fruition of fancy-work will
be amongst their other blissful realizations. And so, after surveying
Deacon QUIRK'S spiritual potato fields, or perhaps some fresh
(spiritual) manifestation of Miss PHELPS'S piety and intelligence, we
may have the pleasure of seeing the sun and moon hung with tidies, and a
lamp-mat under each star.
Take your rejected sketches and compositions, cut them in strips two or
three inches wide, and as long as the paper will permit. Fold these
strips lengthwise as narrow as possible, and smooth the edges down flat
with your finger. When finished, or perhaps before, you will find you
have made a bunch of excellent lamp-lighters.
Get a suit of clothes--broadcloth is the best--and a pair of boots to
stand them in. Button the coat, and insert in the neck any vegetable you
choose, so that it be large enough, (one of the drum-head species is the
best,) and finish with a hat You will then find, doubtless to your
surprise and delight, that you have a man, or an excellent
substitute for one, equal, if not superior to the genuine article,
warranted to be always pleased with his dinner, and never, necessarily,
in the way. Some people may object to its lack of intelligence, as
compared with the original, but careful investigation has shown that the
difference is very slight; yet, admitting even this to be a positive
fault, it is amply counterbalanced by negative merits. Your
correspondent who writes about "The Real Estate of Woman," will be
relieved to find that the threatened dearth in husbands can be so
readily obviated.
ANN O. BLUE.
       *       *       *       *       *
For Singers, Only.
What is the best wine for the voice?
       *       *       *       *       *
A Chop-House Aphorism.
Customers who fee waiters may always be sure of their Feed.
       *       *       *       *       *
The daily papers tell us that "Sixty-Eight Thousand persons visited the
public baths during last week."
They went in--a week lot--and came out sixty-eight thousand strong.
       *       *       *       *       *
Constructive Genius.
"A poor woman in Utica, who owns three houses and is building another,
sends her children into the streets daily to beg."
Quite right. While the youngsters beg in the streets, let the
enterprising old lady go on and begin another house.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Result of the Mongol.
Owing to the influx of Chinamen into this country, the edict against
allowing dogs to run at large during the Summer has been relaxed.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: BOMBASTES BONAPARTE:
NOW PERFORMING AT THE THEATRE FRANCAIS.
"He who would these Boots displace
Must meet BOMBASTES face to face."]
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE NEW PANDORA'S BOX.
REPRESENTATIVE MANUFACTURER, (_springing open Chinese surprise
box_.)--"THERE!--WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT LITTLE JOKER?"
KNIGHT OF ST. CRISPIN.--"PSHAW! THAT'S A MEAN TRICK: WAIT TILL I OPEN
       *       *       *       *       *
HIRAM GREEN ON THE CHINESE.
He write a letter to the North Adams Shoe Manufacturer.--New Occupation
for the "Coming Man."
NSBORO, NYE ONTO VARMONT, _July the 11th_, 18-_Seventy_.
MISTER SAMPSON:
Selestial sir:--I take my goose quil in hand to rite you a letter. I
like your stile--you soot me. I myself have been an old Statesman,
having served my country for 4 years as Gustise of the Peece, raisin'
sed offis to a higher standard than usual, as well as raisin' an
interestin' family of eleven healthy children. Upon the linements of
their countenance the features and stamp of GREEN stands out in bold
relief. They are all genuine Green-bax.
A little cloud no bigger than a man's hand made its appearance over the
golden streets of San Francisco.
It is growin' bigger, and afore we know it, will be bigger than a white
You have ceased the dilemer by the horn which hangs suspended from the
dilemer's head, like the tail of a kite.
While you have set the Chinees peggin' away puttin' bottoms on shoes, a
great many are peggin' away "putin' a head onto you."
In the present statis of things you want to blow up your nerve, and
stand as firm as the rox of Jiberalter, and like BYRON exclaim:
  "To be or not to be, there's the question;--
  Whether a man feels better to pay big wages for shoemakers,
  Or to suffer the slings and arrows of everybody,
  By hirin' Pig-tails for 1/2 price?"
Poleticians of the different churches don't endorse our Selestial
brother. But, sir, I'll venter a few dollars, that if the children of
the son--and dorter--leaned towards either party, he would be gobled up
quicker'n scat, even if he come red hot from old LUCIFER, with a pocket
full of free passes, for the whole nashun, to the Infernal regions.
That's so. A vote's a vote, if it comes from Greenland's coral strand or
Afric's icy mountains. I feel a good deal towards you as a nabor of
mine, named JOE BELCHER, once did.
JOE likes his tod, and can punish as much gin and tansy as a New York
alderman can, when drinkin' at the sity's expense.
JOE went to camp meetin' last week, and, I am pained to say it, JOSEF
got drunker than a biled owl.
While one of the brethern was preachin', JOE sot on a pine log tryin' to
make out wether the preacher was a double-headed man, or whether 2 men
were holdin' forth.
"Who'll stand up for the carpenter's Son?" sed the preacher.
This made JOE look around.
The question was again repeated.
Again JOE looked around for an answer.
Again the preacher said: "Who'll stand up for Him?"
JOE by this time had got onto his feet, and was steadyin' himself by
holdin' onto a tree, while he sung out:
"I say (hic!) ole feller, Ile stand up (hic!) for him, or any 'orrer man
who hain't got any (hic!) more fren's than he has (hic!) in this 'ere
I feel a good deal as JOE did. Anybody who hain't got any more frends
than you have, Mr. SAMPSON, has my sympathy.
For bringin' these _hily morril_ and _refined_ Monongohelians to
Massachusetts is a big feather in your cap, and you will receive your
reward bime-bye.
"The wages of sin is death."
But the wages of a Chinyman is money in a man's pocket. They work cheap.
I am trying to get the Chinese substituted for canal hosses.
A man here by the name of SNYDER, who runs a canal Hoss to our Co.,
talks of sendin' for a lot.
Won't they be bang up with their cues hitcht to a canal bote snakin' it
along at the rate of a mile inside of 2 hours. "G'lang! Tea leaf."
Then when they was restin' from their labors, by tyin' 2 of 'em together
by their cues, stand one opposite the other and hang close between 'em
to dry, on washin' day.
What an aristocratic thing Chiny close-line posts would be. The only
drawback that I know of is, that the confounded posts mite some day walk
off with all the close.
But, sir, if they served me in that manner, I would cover the ground
with broken crockery by smashin' their old Chiny mugs for 'em.
Since you've awoken to _notorosity_, I have been studdyin' out your
family pedigree.
I find your Antsisters are connected with long hair more or less, same
as you be with Chiny pig-tails.
Old SAMPSON the first's strength, like your'n of to-day, lade in his
He could cut off more heads, and slay more Fillistians with the jaw bone
of a member of Congress than the President of these U.S. can by makin' a
new deal in the Custom house department.
And, sir, I reckon about these days, we are getting rather more of that
same kind of jaw bone than is healthy.
I am afrade not.
Mrs. SAMPSON worked like a kag of apple sass in hot weather, to find out
where her old man's strength was. When she found out, what did she do?
Why, she got a pair of sheep shears and cropped him closer'n a state
prison bird, and tryin' to lift a house full of fokes, it fell onto him
and smashed him.
Like LOT'S wife, she'd orter been turned into a pillow of salt, and then
the pillow had orter been sewed up and cast into the sea.
Another of the SAMPSONS wouldn't even chop off MARIAR ANTERNETTE'S head
until her hair had been cut off, so he could peel her top-knot off slick
Lookin' back at these cheerful antsisters of your'n, it's no wonder you
go in for long haired labor. It runs in the SAMPSON blood.
The public is cussin' you from DANIEL to BEEBSHEBER, because you've
brought a lot of modern Philistines to Massachusetts.
Let 'em cus.
That's their lay.
Your'n is, to bild up a fortin, if Poor-houses for white laborers to
live in is thicker in North Adams than goose pimples on a fever and ager
sufferer's form.
As old Grandma SAMPSON cut off her old man's long hair, so she could
handle him in one of them little fireside scrimmages which we married
fokes enjoy, so fokes would crop you, my hi toned old Joss stick.
But I've writ more'n I intended to. I would like to have you come and
make us a visit.
Bring along your wife, DELIAL. Tell her to bring her croshay work.
Mrs. GREEN is interestin' company among wimmen.
What MARIAR don't know about her nabors, don't happen.
Then her veel pot-pies and ingin puddins are just rats.
She can nock the spots off from any woman who wears a waterfall, gettin'
up a good square meal.
Anser soon, and don't forget to pay your own postige.
Hopin' you are sound on the goose and able to enjoy your _Swi lager und
I am thine, old hoss,
HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,
Lait Gustise of the Peece.
       *       *       *       *       *
TREATMENT FOR POTATO BUGS.
Mr. CLARK JOHNSON, of Pendleton, Indiana, not at all discouraged by the
signal failures of many previous campaigns against the Bug, has entered
the (potato) field with a new weapon, viz.: a mixture of Paris Green and
Ashes. Applied frequently, as a Top Dressing, this gentle stimulant
imparts a new energy to the vine, and also to the Bug, who thus becomes
so vigorous, and at the same time restless, that an uncontrollable
impulse seizes him to visit the home of his ancestors, (Colorado.) Here,
as is supposed by Mr. JOHNSON, the fictitious energy that had been
supplied by the Mixture deserts the immigrant, who now settles down
contentedly, nor ever roams again.
As (owing to the present facilities of freighting, etc.,) the Potatoes
of Pendleton may eventually find the New York market, which always
invites the superior esculent, we would like to suggest to Mr. JOHNSON
that this Mixture be administered to the Bug with a spoon, and not
sprinkled promiscuously on the ground. We have drank Tea with a "green
flavor," and found it comparatively innocuous; but Potatoes with a green
flavor, (especially if flavored by the JOHNSONIAN method,) we should
consider as doubtful, to say the least. It is the general impression
that there is nothing Green in Paris; but your house painter knows there
is such a thing as Paris Green, and that it is the oxyde of copper.
Therefore, should one eat many of the potatoes nourished as above, we
should expect to see him gradually turning into a Bronze Statue--a fate
which, unless he were particularly Greeky and nice-looking, we should
wish to anticipate, if possible, in the interests of art.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: MR. SWACHENBACKER, OF THE AIRY 'UN SOCIETY, CREATES A
SENSATION AMONG THE LADY BATHERS AT "THE BRANCH," BY APPEARING AMONG
THEM AS A MERMAN, WITH A REAL LOOKING-GLASS AND A FALSE TAIL.]
       *       *       *       *       *
Fashionable Intelligence.
Two colors that once were fashionable in the Parisian _toilette_, viz.:
BISMARCK brown and Prussian blue, are now excluded from court circles,
by command of the Empress.
       *       *       *       *       *
Weather or No.
Most remarkable in the history of mathematics are the calculations
published by the weather-prophet of the _Express_. Arithmetic turns pale
when she glances at them, and, striking her multiplication table with
her algebraic knuckles, demands to know why the _Express_ does not add a
Cube-it to its THATCHER.
       *       *       *       *       *
Comparative Industry.
It is reported that "the journeymen lathers demand four dollars per
day." As a question of comparative soap, the latherers will in due time
strike too. The ultimatum will be-"Raise our pay or we drop the Razor."
       *       *       *       *       *
"Omnibus Hoc," etc.
What is the difference between theft in an omnibus and the second deal
One is a Game of the Stage, and the other is a Stage of the Game.
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR AGRICULTURAL COLUMN.
Memorabilia of "What I Know About Farming."
Profound subjects should be well meditated upon. A man may write about
"New America," or "Spiritual Wives," or any such light and airy subject,
without possessing much knowledge, or indulging in much thought, but he
can't play such tricks upon Agriculture. She is very much like a donkey:
unless you are thoroughly acquainted with her playful ways, she will
upset you in a quagmire. Perhaps it is due to my readers that I should
say here that I have read a great many valuable treatises upon this
subject, among which may be named, "Cometh up as a Flour," "Anatomy of
Melon-cholly," "Sowing and Reaping," one thousand or two volumes of
Patent Office Reports, and three or four bushels of "Proverbial
Philosophy." I would also add, that I invariably remain awake on clear
nights, and think out the ideas set down in this column. Probably you
may not be able to find traces of all that labor here, but I assure you
that those books are more familiar to me than is my catechism. However,
anybody who thinks he knows more about vegetables than I do, can send me
a letter containing his information, and, if I don't cabbage it, I will
plant it carefully in the bottom of the waste paper basket. We now
proceed to consider.
This vegetable always flourishes in a moist soil, though it generally
has a holy horror of _aqua pura_. Some of them are of an immense size; I
have seen them fill a tumbler. Producers, however, generally charge more
for the large ones than for the small. The size of the nip usually
depends upon the par. It may be that your par's nip is extremely small,
while JOHN SMITH'S par's nip is very large. Four fingers is, I believe,
considered to be the regulation size.
This vegetable is served up in a variety of forms. Some pars like it
with milk; in that case it is generally "hung up." In the winter it is
often called a sling or a punch; in the summer it is denominated a
cobbler or a jew-lip. Perhaps it would be well for those who love it, to
indulge in par's nip now, for some people say, that in the days of the
"coming man" there will be no par's nips. It must be admitted that the
father of a family, who indulges too freely in par's nip, is very likely
to run to seed, and to plant himself in such unfruitful places as the
gutter. If he be a young par, he may become a rake, and fork over his
money, and then ho! for the alms-house.
Numerous efforts have been made to suppress this vegetable, among which
may be reckoned, "Father, dear Father, come home with me now," Brother
GOUGH'S circus, and the parades of the F.M.T.A.B. Societies. Maine and
Vermont Neal together in the front rank of its opponents. In Boston they
tried to suppress this vegetable, but, if you followed your par to a
store and heard him order a cracker, you could smell par's nip.
Among the mild varieties of this article may be mentioned benzine,
camphene and kerosene; the next strongest kind is called Jersey
lightning; but, if you desire par's nips in their most luxuriant form,
go to Water street and try the species known as "rot-gut."
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
Poetry is the exclusive birthright of no age of people. The dirtiest
Hindoo sings to his _fetish_ the songs of the Brahmin muse, with as keen
a relish as the most devout Christian does the hymns of Dr. WATTS.
Melody comes of Heaven, and is a gift vouchsafed to all generations, and
all kinds of men. In proof of this, let us adduce a single extract from
the great epic of the Hawaiian poet, POPPOOFI, entitled "Ka Nani E!"
  Ka nani e! ka nani e!
    Alohi puni no
  Mai luna, a mai lalo nei,
    A ma na mea a pau.
We would call the attention of our readers particularly to the sublime
sentiment of the second line. "Alohi puni no," sings the peerless
POPPOOFI, and where, in the pages of that other Oriental HOMER, the
Persian HAFI, can be found anything half so magnificent? There may be
critics bigoted enough to think that the last line destroys the effect
of the other three; but _we_ don't. PUNCHINELLO would much rather
discover the good in a thing at any time, than go a-fishing on Sundays.
It is not in the nature of a properly constituted human being to lay his
hand upon his heart and chant:
  "Ka nani e! Ka nani e!"
in the presence of his mother-in-law, without feeling that life is not
so miserable as some people would make it out. In the words of ALEXANDER
SELKIRK'S man FRIDAY: "_Palmam qui meruit ferat_."
       *       *       *       *       *
THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.
Emmet is a name which has heretofore been associated in the public mind
with the Negro Minstrel business. Certain weird barbaric melodies, which
defy all laws of musical composition, but which haunt one like a dream
of a lonely night on some wild African river, are said to have been
written by "OLD EMMET." Is there any such person? Has any one actually
seen "OLD EMMET" in the flesh, and with--say a high hat and a cotton
umbrella? For my part I disbelieve in the popular theory of the origin
of these EMMETIC melodies which stir one so strangely. They are not the
work of any earthly song writer, but are born of some untuned Eolian
harp played upon by uncertain breezes, that murmur the memory of
tropical groves and sigh with the sadness of exile. There is no "OLD
EMMET." If there is, let him be brought forward--not to be chucked out
of the window, as Mrs. F.'s AUNT might suggest,--but to be thanked and
wondered at as an inchoate OFFENBACH, who might, under other
circumstances, have written an American opera-bouffe, or, better still,
as a possible CHOPIN, who might have written a second "March Funébre" as
hopeless and desolate and fascinating as that of the despairing and
poetic Pole. (I am coming to "FRITZ" in a moment, but I won't be hurried
by any one.)
As for JOSEPH K. EMMET, he is an undoubted reality. If you don't believe
it, go to WALLACK'S and see him. Somebody discovered this EMMET in the
Pastoral privacy of the Bowery. Mr. GAYLER was made to write a play for
him, and EMMET, the Bowery Minstrel, straightway became Mr. JOSEPH K.
EMMET, the renowned impersonator of "FRITZ." He plays "FRITZ" at
WALLACK'S every evening, and the entertainment is something of this
ACT I.--_Scene, the outside of Castle Garden. Enter baggage-smashers,
emigrant-runners, aldermen, and other criminals_.
RUNNER. "There's a ship a' comin' up. I'll lay for the Dutchmen."
BOBBIT. (_A concert-saloon manager_.) "There's a ship coming up. I'll
lay for the Dutch girls."
DISSOLUTE COLONEL. "There's a ship coming up. I want you two fellows to
look out for a Dutchman named "FRITZ," who is onboard. He takes care of
a girl, KATRINA, whom I adore. Carry off FRITZ and I'll carry off the
(_Various emigrants enter and are hustled off by the runners_. FRITZ
_and_ KATRINA _finally appear_.)
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist gut. Ach himmel; zwei bier und Limburger."
(_The runners seize his trunk and carry it off. The_ DISSOLUTE COLONEL
_hurries_ KATRINA _into a coach and carries her off_. FRITZ _is carried
away by his emotions. Curtain_.)
ACT II.--_Scene, a boarding-house parlor. Enter_ DISSOLUTE COLONEL
and KATRINA.
DISSOLUTE COLONEL. "You are in my power. Be mine, and you shall have as
many bonnets and things as you can wish. Refuse, and I'll send every
reporter in the city to interview you."
KATRINA. "Base villain! I despise you. Let the torturers do their
(_Enter_ FRITZ, _disguised as a member of the Sorosis_.)
KATRINA. "You here! Be cautious. The hash is drugged. Save me, my
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist nicht gut. Herr Colonel, Ich bin KATRINA'S aunt. Ich
habe gekommen to take her away wid me, ye owdacious spalpeen."
DISSOLUTE COLONEL. "Glad to see you. Take some hash, madam?"
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist gut. Take some yourself, you murtherin' thafe of the
(_The_ DISSOLUTE COLONEL _forgets that the hash is drugged. He takes it
and falls insensible_. FRITZ _and_ KATRINA _escape. Scene changes to
Judge_ DOWLING'S _court-room_.)
FRITZ. (_Having left off his Sorosis disguise_.) "Ja. Das is nicht gut.
Behold, O wise young judge, the misguided person who put my trunk in his
pocket and ran away with it."
JUDGE. "Prove your case."
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist gut. Begar! I proves him _toute de suite_--what you
call to wunst. You see those Limburger cheese in the villain's mouth. He
got them out of my trunk. So you see I have him ein thief geproven."
JUDGE. "Your case is proved. Let the prisoner be removed."
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist sehr gut. Now I'm a gwine to de saloon, where dis
niggah has a ningagement for to sing."
(_Scene changes to a concert saloon_. FRITZ _enters and goes through an
entire programme of negro minstrelsy, to the wild delight of the
gallery. At last the lazy curtain slowly consents to fall_.)
ACT III.--The DISSOLUTE COLONEL _come to grief, and_ FRITZ _marries_
KATRINA. If you want to know all about it, go to the theatre. I don't
intend to ruin the establishment by giving the public the whole play for
the ridiculous sum which is charged for this copy of PUNCHINELLO. The
third act is the last of the play, and when the curtain fells, the
audience immediately proceeds to pick EMMET to pieces.
BOY IN THE GALLERY. "Ain't he just tip, though? I've seen him lots o'
times at TONY PASTOR'S, and I allers knowed he'd be a big thing if the
Bowery or thishyer theatre got a hold on him."
YOUNG LADY. "Isn't it frightfully low? The idea of Mr. WALLACK
permitting this negro minstrelsy in his theatre. To be sure Mr. EMMET is
funny; but I hate to see people funny in this place."
OLD GENTLEMAN. "My dear! don't be absurd. Suppose Mr. EMMET has been a
minstrel, is that any proof that he can't be an actor? The young fellow
has his faults, but they will wear off in time, and he is brimful of
real talent. The play isn't a model of excellence, but it was made to
show EMMET'S strong points, and it answers its purpose. Shall we cry
down a talented and promising young actor simply because he has been a
minstrel, and now has the audacity to play at WALLACK'S? And besides,
haven't we seen pantomime, and legs, and LOTTA, and DAN BRYANT at
WALLACK'S? You never objected to any of the illegitimacies that have
preceded FRITZ;--why then should you begin now? Give EMMET and GAYLER a
chance. At any rate they can make you laugh, which is something that
BOUCICAULT with his '_Lost at Sea_' did not do."
       *       *       *       *       *
A PARABLE ABOUT THE TWELFTH OF JULY.
In a far distant land, beyond the sea, there dwelt an Orange Lily.
Separated from it by a very absurd and useless ditch, a Green Shamrock
spread its trefoil leafage to the sun, and grew greener every day. Now,
in course of time, a very ill feeling sprang up between the Lily and the
Shamrock, on account of color, the former despising the latter because
it was green, and the latter hating the former because it was orange--as
if both colors hadn't lived together in the rainbow ever since the
aquatic excursion of old Mr. NOAH, without ever falling out of it or
with each other. In time they both crossed the sea, and took root in a
far-away land, where they became acquainted with a very remarkable
animal called the American Beaver.
The industry of this creature urged the Lily to toil and spin, contrary
to its usual habits, while the Shamrock converted its trifoliated leaves
into shovels, and took a contract for excavating the hemisphere. And so
they might have jogged on very well together, but for their stupid way
of showing their colors when there was no occasion for it. This greatly
disgusted their friend, the American Beaver, who didn't care a pinch of
snuff about color, (black is not a color, you know,) but who went in for
faithful and persistent work. One beautiful Twelfth of July, the Lily
arose very early in the morning, and, shaking out her orange leaves,
defied the Shamrock to "come on." The Shamrock came on. There was a
vegetable howl, and clash, and clangor in the air, and the Lily, having
knocked off several of the Shamrocks' greenest leaves, went to its
friend, the American Beaver, for comfort and support. But the American
Beaver, instead of countenancing the Lily, said: "Look here, Lily, I
guess you are about the greatest fool I ever _did_ see, except, perhaps,
the Shamrock. As long as you two stick to your work, instead of sticking
out your colors and sticking your knives into each other, I am very glad
to have you for neighbors, but now that you have shown yourselves to be
jack-asses instead of vegetables, I would not give an American Beaver
dam for the two of you."
       *       *       *       *       *
CONDENSED CONGRESS.
A pleasant philosopher tells us that blessings brighten as they take
their flight. The flight of Congress may be regarded as a blessing. But
Congressmen do not brighten. PUNCHINELLO listens in vain for the swan
song of SUMNER, and looks longingly, without being gratified by the
spectacle of the oratorical funeral pyre of NYE. Almost the only gleam
of humor he discerns in his weekly wading through the watery and windy
wastes of the Congressional Globe is a comic coruscation by Mr. CAMERON.
Mr. McCREERY had had the abominable impudence to introduce
a bill relieving the disabilities of a few friends of his in Kentucky.
Mr. CAMERON objected upon the ground that one of these persons was named
SMITH, and used to be a New York Street Commissioner. Any man who had
been a New York Street Commissioner ought to be hanged as soon as any
decent pretext could be found for hanging him. (Murmurs of approbation
from the New York reporters.) Still this was not his main objection to
SMITH. The SMITH family had furnished more aid and comfort to the rebel
army than any other family in the South. No SMITH should, with his
consent, be permitted to participate in the conduct of a Government
which so many SMITHS had conspired to overthrow. Moreover, this was an
incorrigible SMITH. It was an undisputed fact that SMITH had given up a
lucrative office to follow his political convictions. Such a man could
not be viewed by Senators with any other feelings than those of horror
and disgust. Let them reflect what would be the effect of polluting this
body, as by this bill it was proposed to make it possible to do, with a
man so dead to all the common feelings of our nature that he would set
up his own conceits against the practice of his fellow-Senators, and the
rewards of a grateful country. This settled the fate of SMITH, but the
rest of Mr. McCREERY's friends, being obscure persons, were let in, in
spite of the "barbaric yaup" of DRAKE, who said that the next thing
would be a proposition to enact a similar outrage in Missouri, and
thereby abet the efforts of the bold bad men who were trying to get him
out of his seat.
SCHENCK insisted upon the Tariff. He had been visited by
delegations from the great heart of the nation, who assured him that the
great heart of the nation yearned for an immediate increase of the duty
on various articles which competed with the articles manufactured by the
members of the delegation. No longer ago than yesterday a manufacturer
of double-back-action jack-planes had assured him that the
single-forward-action jack-planes poured upon our shores by the pauper
labor of Europe, were, so to speak, shaving off the edge of the national
life. A gentleman whose name was known to the uttermost parts of the
civilized world, who had shed new lustre upon the American name by the
great boon he had bestowed upon mankind in the American self-filling
rotary Bird of Freedom inkstand with revolving lid, had said, with the
tears of patriotic shame and sorrow in his eyes, that there were
recreant writers who preferred to purchase the Birmingham inkstand,
which required to be filled, did not rotate, and had no revolution to
its lid, at fifty cents, than to secure his own triumph of American
ingenuity at ten dollars. Such misguided men must be taught their duty
to their native land. Mr. SCHENCK moved an increase to 4,000 per cent,
_ad valorem_ on the foreign jack-plane, which he characterized as a Tool
of Tyranny, and the Birmingham inkstand. The thing was done.
Mr. DAWES said he was disgusted. Everybody's jobs were put through
except his. He threatened to go home and tell his constituents.
Mr. PETERS suggested that Mr. DAWES had better go out and take "suthin'
soothin'." (Mr. PETERS is from Maine, and his remark will probably be
understood there.) If he might be pardoned the liberty he would
recommend a little ice in it.
Mr. DAWES said he could do his own drinking. As for PETERS, he scorned
him. Moreover, PETERS was one-eyed.
Mr. PETERS appealed to his record to show that he had two eyes. He did
not understand the anger of Mr. DAWES. Of course when he suggested a
drink, he assumed the responsibility of paying for it.
Mr. DAWES said that altered the case entirely. He took pleasure in
withdrawing his hasty remarks, and in assuring the House that he
profoundly venerated PETERS, and that PETERS had two perfect eyes of
unusual expressiveness.
Mr. BINGHAM called attention to the case of Mr. PORTER, who had been
smitten on the nose by a vile creature whom he declined to drink with.
This was a blow at the national life, and he thought the punishment of
treason was imperatively demanded.
Mr. BUTLER said he had been kicked once. He assured the House that the
sensation was repugnant to his feelings as a man--much more as a
Congressman. He moved to amend by substituting slow torture.
It was finally resolved to put the wretch in irons and feed him on bread
       *       *       *       *       *
A Drowsy Con.
When a man is sleepy, what sort of transformation does he desire?
He wishes he were a-bed.
       *       *       *       *       *
 An Anecdote of the good old Square Kind.
MRS. PRINGLEWOOD, having been afflicted with a chimney that smoked, sent
for a chimney-doctor to cure it.
When the cure had been thoroughly effected, says Mrs. PRINGLEWOOD to the
chimney-doctor: "My son, a boy of but fourteen, smokes awful; couldn't
you cure him as you did the chimney?"
"No I couldn't, marm," returned the chimney-doctor, who was a wag: "but
I see what you're arter, marm--you want me to teach him to draw!"
       *       *       *       *       *
O Deer, Deer!
_Trichinoe_ are said to have been discovered in the flesh of Oregon
deer. If this should prove true, Oregon venison must be anything but a
benison; but it is more than likely that the report originated in the
fact that there is in the East Indies a species of the cervine family
known as the Hog deer.
       *       *       *       *       *
Scientific Intelligence.
We learn from exchanges that in Missouri, where the wages of
working-people average five dollars _per diem_, that the Legislature
have decreed a Mining Bureau, and a Geological Survey of the State--the
remuneration of the assistant geologists to be at the rate of $1.50 _per
diem_. Why should these learned geologists waste their time for a
compensation so mean? Let them rather convert their surveying-staffs
into ox-goads, and turn their attention to Gee-haw-logy,--'twill pay
better than t'other thing.
       *       *       *       *       *
Men and Manners
The following paragraph, cut from a newspaper, suggests a good deal:
"A Hindoo cabby, before mounting the box and taking the reins, always
first prays that his driving may be to the glory of his God."
Now this is precisely what the New York hackman invariably does before
he gathers up the reins and urges on his "galled jades." He curses his
horses, his passengers, and his own eyes, and thus commends his driving
to the glory of _his_ God, whose other name is LUCIFER.
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  |                                                              |
  |                        SASH RIBBONS,                         |
  |               IN THE MOST DESIRABLE WIDTHS AND               |
  |                    SHADES OF COLOR. Also,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |              Velvet Ribbons, Trimming Ribbons,               |
  |                      Neckties, &c., &c.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |              _Great Inducements to Purchasers_.              |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. STEWART & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                         Are Offering                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Extraordinary Bargains                    |
  |                              IN                              |
  |            LADIES' PARIS AND DOMESTIC READY-MADE             |
  |                Silk, Grenadine, Swiss Muslin,                |
  |                     Victoria Lawn, Linen                     |
  |                          and Pique                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Suits, Robes, and Dresses,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |             Children's Linen and Pique Garments,             |
  |                   In the Greatest Variety,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |              Embroidered Collars, CUFFS, LACES,              |
  |                    Real LAMA LACE POINTS,                    |
  |                       DRESSES &c., &c.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |               4TH AVE., 9TH AND 10TH STREETS.                |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Steward & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                Are closing out their stock of                |
  |                FRENCH, ENGLISH, AND DOMESTIC                 |
  |                           CARPETS,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |           Oil Cloths, Rugs, Mats, Cocoa and Canton           |
  |                     Mattings, &c., &c.,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |               At a Great REDUCTION IN PRICES.                |
  |                                                              |
  |          _Customers and Strangers are Respectfully_          |
  |                                                              |
  |                     INVITED TO EXAMINE,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A. T. STEWART &CO.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                     Offer the following                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Extraordinary Inducements                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                   IN PRICES TO PURCHASERS,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |   In order to close the following portion of their Stock:    |
  |                                                              |
  |            Striped Checks, & Broche Poplinettes,             |
  |                    Only 50 cts. per Yard.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |              Heavy Black and White Check Silks,              |
  |                75 cts. per Yard, value $1.50.                |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Real Gaze de Chambrey,                    |
  |                75 cts. per Yard, formerly $2.                |
  |                                                              |
  |             Striped Mongoline Silks (a Beautiful             |
  |                    Article for Costumes),                    |
  |                   $1 per Yard, formerly $2                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                     A LARGE QUANTITY OF                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                   STRIPED & CHECKED SILKS,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |           This Season's Importation, $1 per Yard.            |
  |                    A great Variety of the                    |
  |                                                              |
  |           NEW ROUBAIX SILKS, 56 INCHES WIDE, $1.25           |
  |                          per Yard.                           |
  |                                                              |
  |        RICH CHANGEABLE SILKS, Light Colors, 24 Inches        |
  |                         Wide, $1.75.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |           EXTRA HEAVY PONGE SILKS, ONLY $1.60 per            |
  |                    Yard, formerly $2.50.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                    A LARGE ASSORTMENT OF                     |
  |                                                              |
  |          Plain Colored POULTS DE SOIES, TAFFETTAS,           |
  |                      FAILLES, &c., &c.,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                   Choice Shades of Color.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    _AN IMMENSE STOCK OF_                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                         BLACK SILKS,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                  At Prices Lower Than Ever.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                 4th Ave., 9th and 10th Sts.                  |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
PUNCHINELLO.
The first number of this Illustrated Humorous and Satirical Weekly Paper
was issued under date of April 2, 1870. The Press and the Public in
every State and Territory of the Union endorse it as the best paper of
the kind ever published in America.
CONTENTS ENTIRELY ORIGINAL.
Subscription for one year, (with $2.00 premium,) ............... $4.00
 " " six months, (without premium,) ............................  2.00
 " " three months, "                ............................  1.00
Single copies mailed free, for    ..............................   .10
We offer the following elegant premiums of L. PRANG & CO'S
CHROMOS for subscriptions as follows:
A copy of paper for one year, and
"The Awakening," (a Litter of Puppies.) Half chromo.
Size 8-3/8 by 11-1/8 ($2.00 picture,) for ...................... $4.00
A copy of paper for one year and either of the following $3.00 chromos:
Wild Roses. 12-1/8 x 9.
Dead Game. 11-1/8 x 8-3/8.
Easter Morning. 6-3/4 x 10-1/4--for ..................... $5.00
A copy of paper for one year and either of the following $5.00 chromos:
Group of Chickens; Group of Ducklings: Group of Quails.
Each 10 x 12-1/8.
The Poultry Yard. 10-1/8 x 14
The Barefoot Boy; Wild Fruit. Each 9-3/4 x 13.
Pointer and Quail: Spaniel and Woodcock. 10 x 12--for ... $6.50
A copy of paper for one year and either of the following $6.00 chromos:
The Baby in Trouble; The Unconscious Sleeper; The Two
Friends. (Dog and Child.) Each 13 x 16-1/4.
Spring; Summer; Autumn; 12-7/8 x 16-1/8.
The Kid's Play Ground. 11 x 17-1/2--for ................. $7.00
A copy of paper for one year and either of the following $7.50 chromos:
Strawberries and Baskets.
Cherries and Baskets.
Currants. Each 13 x 18.
Horses in a Storm. 22-1/4 x 15-1/4.
Six Central Park Views. (A set.) 9-1/8 x 4-1/2--for ........... $8.00
A copy of paper for one year and
Six American Landscapes. (A set.) 4-3/8 x 9,
price $9.00--for .............................................. $9.00
A copy of paper for one year and either of the
following $10 chromos:
Sunset in California. (Bierstadt) 18-1/2 x 12
Easter Morning. 14 x 21.
Corregio's Magdalen. 12-1/4 x 16-3/8.
Summer Fruit, and Autumn Fruit. (Half chromos,)
15-1/2 x 10-1/2, (companions, price $10.00 for the two), for  $10.00
Remittances should be made in P.O. Orders, Drafts, or Bank Checks on New
York, or Registered letters. The paper will be sent from the first
number, (April 2d, 1870,) when not otherwise ordered.
Postage of paper is payable at the office where received, twenty cents
per year, or five cents per quarter, in advance; the CHROMOS will be
_mailed free_ on receipt of money.
CANVASSERS WANTED, to whom liberal commissions will be given. For
special terms address the Company.
The first ten numbers will be sent to any one desirous of seeing the
paper before subscribing, for SIXTY CENTS. A specimen copy sent to any
one desirous of canvassing or getting up a club, on receipt of postage
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,
P.O. Box 2783. No. 83 Nassau Street, New York.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: Caption: THE COMING MILLENNIUM,
WHEN EVERYTHING IS TO BE CHEAP, AND THE WHITE MAN WILL STARVE.]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |  Tourists and leisure Travelers will be find to learn that   |
  |            the Erie Railway Company has prepared             |
  |                                                              |
  |         COMBINATION EXCURSION OR Round Trip Tickets,         |
  |                                                              |
  |    Valid during the entire season, and embracing Ithaca--    |
  | headwaters of Cayuga Lake--Niagara Falls, Lake Ontario, the  |
  |  River St. Lawrence, Montreal, Quebec, Lake Champlain, Lake  |
  |   George, Saratoga, the White Mountains and all principal    |
  |  points of interest in Northern New York, the Canadas, and   |
  | New England. Also similar Tickets at reduced rates, through  |
  |  Lake Superior, enabling travelers to visit the celebrated   |
  | Iron Mountains and Copper Mines of that region. By applying  |
  |  at the Offices of the Erie Railway Co., Nos. 241, 529 and   |
  | 957 Broadway; 205 Chambers St.; 38 Greenwich St.; cor. 125th |
  |   St. and Third Avenue, Harlem; 338 Fulton St., Brooklyn;    |
  |  Depots foot of Chambers Street, and foot of 23rd St., New   |
  |   York; No. 3 Exchange Place, and Long Dock Depot, Jersey    |
  | City, and the Agents at the principal hotels, travelers can  |
  |    obtain just the Ticket they desire, as well as all the    |
  |                    necessary information.                    |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |         "The Printing--House of the United States."          |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                    GEO. F. NESBITT & CO.,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    General JOB PRINTERS,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                  BLANK BOOK Manufacturers,                   |
  |              STATIONERS, Wholesale and Retail,               |
  |             LITHOGRAPHIC Engravers and Printers.             |
  |             COPPER-PLATE Engravers and Printers,             |
  |                     CARD Manufacturers,                      |
  |                   ENVELOPE Manufacturers.                    |
  |                 FINE CUT and COLOR Printers.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |              163, 165, 167, and 169 PEARL ST.,               |
  |            73, 75, 77, and 79 PINE ST., New York.            |
  |                                                              |
  |       ADVANTAGES. All on the same premises, and under        |
  |          immediate supervision of the proprietors.           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  | PRANG'S LATEST PUBLICATIONS: "Wild Flowers," "Water-Lilies," |
  |     "Chas. Dickens." PRANG'S CHROMOS sold in all Art and     |
  |     Bookstores throughout the world. PRANG'S ILLUSTRATED     |
  |           CATALOGUE sent free on receipt of stamp.           |
  |                                                              |
  |                   L. PRANG & CO., Boston.                    |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         PUNCHINELLO.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |   With a large and varied experience in the management and   |
  | publication of a paper of the class herewith submitted, and  |
  |  with the still more positive advantage of an Ample Capital  |
  |               to justify the undertaking, the                |
  |                                                              |
  |                  PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                   OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |         Presents to the public for approval, the new         |
  |                                                              |
  |              ILLUSTRATED HUMOROUS AND SATIRICAL              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        WEEKLY PAPER,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                         PUNCHINELLO,                         |
  |                                                              |
  | The first number of which was issued under date of April 2.  |
  |                                                              |
  |                      ORIGINAL ARTICLES,                      |
  |                                                              |
  | Suitable for the paper, and Original Designs,, or suggestive |
  | ideas or sketches for illustrations, upon the topics of the  |
  |  day, are always acceptable and will be paid for liberally.  |
  |                                                              |
  |  Rejected communications cannot be returned, unless postage  |
  |                     stamps are inclosed.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                            TERMS:                            |
  |                                                              |
  | One copy, per year, in advance ....................... $4.00 |
  |                                                              |
  | Single copies .......................................... .10 |
  |                                                              |
  | A specimen copy will be mailed free upon the receipt of ten  |
  |                            cents.                            |
  |                                                              |
  | One copy, with the Riverside Magazine, or any other magazine |
  |      or paper, price, $2.50, for ................. 5.50      |
  |                                                              |
  | One copy, with any magazine or paper, price, $4, for.. 7.00  |
  |                                                              |
  |  All communications, remittances, etc., to be addressed to   |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                     No 83 Nassau Street,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                  P. O. Box, 2783. NEW YORK.                  |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                 THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                  The New Burlesque Serial,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |              Written expressly for PUNCHINELLO,              |
  |                                                              |
  |                              BY                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                       ORPHEUS C. KERR,                       |
  |                                                              |
  | Commenced in No. 11. will be continued weekly throughout the |
  |                            year.                             |
  |                                                              |
  | A sketch of the eminent author, written by his bosom friend, |
  |                 with superb illustrations of                 |
  |                                                              |
  |    1ST. THE AUTHOR'S PALATIAL RESIDENCE AT BEGAD'S HILL,     |
  |                TICKNOR'S FIELDS, NEW JERSEY.                 |
  |                                                              |
  | 2ND. THE AUTHOR AT THE DOOR OF SAID PALATIAL RESIDENCE taken |
  |  as he appears "Every Saturday." will also be found in the   |
  |                         same number.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |              *       *       *       *       *               |
  |                                                              |
  | Single Copies, for sale by all newsmen, (or mailed from this |
  |                  office, free,) Ten Cents.                   |
  |                                                              |
  | Subscription for One Year, one copy, with $2 Chromo Premium. |
  |                             $4.                              |
  |                                                              |
  |              *       *       *       *       *               |
  |                                                              |
  |  Those desirous of receiving the paper containing this new   |
  |    serial, which promises to be the best ever written by     |
  | ORPHEUS C. KERR, should subscribe now, to insure its regular |
  |                       receipt weekly.                        |
  |                                                              |
  | We will send the first Ten Numbers of PUNCHINELLO to any one |
  |    who wishes to see them, in view of subscribing, on the    |
  |                   receipt of SIXTY CENTS.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                           Address,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |               PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,                |
  |                                                              |
  |           P. O. Box 2783. 83 Nassau St., New York.           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
GEO. W, WHEAT & Co, PRINTER, NO. 8 SPRUCE STREET.
and PG Distributed Proofreaders
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                           CONANT'S                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                        PATENT BINDERS                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                             FOR                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO",                        |
  |                                                              |
  |  to preserve the paper for binding, will be sent post-paid,  |
  |                 on receipt of One Dollar, by                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |               83 Nassau Street, New York City.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         J.M. SPRAGUE                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Is the Authorized Agent of                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO"                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                           For the                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                     New England States,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  To Procure Subscriptions,                   |
  |                  and to Employ Canvassers.                   |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  HARRISON BRADFORD & CO.'S                   |
  |                         STEEL PENS.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |     These Pens are of a finer quality, more durable, and     |
  | cheaper than any other Pen in the market. Special attention  |
  |  is called to the following grades, as being better suited   |
  |     for business purposes than any Pen manufactured. The     |
  |                                                              |
  |            "505," "22," and the "Anti-Corrosive,"            |
  |                                                              |
  |            we recommend for Bank and Office use.             |
  |                                                              |
  |                      D. APPLETON & CO.,                      |
  |                Sole Agents for United States.                |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
Vol. I. No. 18
SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD,
By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.
[Sidenote: See 15th Page for Extra Premiums.]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |               APPLICATIONS FOR ADVERTISING IN                |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO".                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                    SHOULD BE ADDRESSED TO                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                         J. NICKINSON                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                         ROOM NO. 4,                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    No. 83 Nassau Street.                     |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                 A NEW AND MUCH-NEEDED BOOK.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                          MATERNITY.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                      A POPULAR TREATISE                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                 For Young Wives and Mothers.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |        BY T.S. VERDI, A.M., M.D., OF WASHINGTON, D.C.        |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |    DR. VERDI is a well-known and successful Homoeopathic     |
  |   Practitioner, of thorough scientific training and large    |
  | experience. His book has arisen from a want felt in his own  |
  |   practice, as a Monitor to Young Wives, a Guide to Young    |
  | Mothers, and an assistant to the family physician. It deals  |
  | skilfully, sensibly, and delicately with the perplexities of |
  |   early married life, as connected with the holy duties of   |
  | Maternity, giving information which women must have, either  |
  |  in conversation with physicians, or from such a source as   |
  |    this--evidently the preferable mode of learning, for a    |
  |  delicate and sensitive woman. Plain and intelligible, but   |
  |  without offense to the most fastidious taste, the style of  |
  |  this book must commend it to careful perusal. It treats of  |
  | the needs, dangers, and alleviations of the time of travail; |
  |  and gives extended detailed instructions for the care and   |
  | medical treatment of infants and children throughout all the |
  |                    perils of early life.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |  As a Mother's Manual, it will have a large sale, and as a   |
  |  book of special and reliable information on very important  |
  |            topics, it will be heartily welcomed.             |
  |                                                              |
  |   Handsomely printed on laid paper: bevelled boards, extra   |
  |        English cloth, 12mo., 450 pages. Price $2.25.         |
  |                                                              |
  |  _For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-paid on  |
  |                   receipt of the price by_                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                 J.B. FORD & CO., Publishers,                 |
  |                    39 Park Row, New York.                    |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       What it is Not.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                  The College Courant is NOT                  |
  |                                                              |
  |Merely a small student's sheet,     But is the largest in N.E.|
  |Merely of interest to college men,  But to every one,         |
  |Merely a COLLEGE paper,             But is a scientific paper,|
  |Merely a local paper,               But is cosmopolitan,      |
  |Merely scientific and educational,  But is literary,          |
  |An experiment,                      But an established weekly |
  |Conducted by students,              But by graduates,         |
  |Stale and dry,                      But fresh and interesting |
  |                                                              |
  |               It circulates in every College.                |
  |         It circulates in every Professional School.          |
  |          It circulates in every Preparatory School.          |
  |      It circulates in every State in the United States.      |
  |          It circulates in every civilized country.           |
  |             It circulates among all College men.             |
  |           It circulates among all Scientific men.            |
  |         It circulates among the educated everywhere.         |
  |                                                              |
  |               July 1st a new volume commences.               |
  |           July 1st 10,000 new subscribers wanted.            |
  |        July 1st excellent illustrations will appear.         |
  |        July 1st 10,000 specimen copies to be issued.         |
  |            July 1st is a good time to subscribe.             |
  |         July 1st or any time send stamp for a copy.          |
  |                                                              |
  |                            TERMS:                            |
  |                                                              |
  |One year, in advance,   -    -    -    -    -   -   -    $4.00|
  |Single copies (for sale by all newsdealers),     -   -     .10|
  |                                                              |
  |                           Address                            |
  |                     THE COLLEGE COURANT,                     |
  |                       New Haven, Conn.                       |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                        NEWS DEALERS.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                              ON                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                          RAILROADS,                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                         STEAMBOATS,                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                   And at WATERING PLACES,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |               Will find the Monthly Numbers of               |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO"                         |
  |                                                              |
  |  For April, May, June, and July, an attractive and Saleable  |
  |                            Work.                             |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Single Copies Price 50 cts.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |        For trade price address American News Co., or         |
  |                                                              |
  |                PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING & CO.,                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                      83 Nassau Street.                       |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       TO NEWS-DEALER.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Punchinello's Monthly.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                 The Weekly Numbers for June,                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Bound in a Handsome Cover,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |               Is now ready. Price Fifty Cents.               |
  |                                                              |
  |                          THE TRADE                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Supplied by the                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                    AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |           Who are now prepared to receive Orders.            |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         J. NICKINSON                         |
  |                                                              |
  |              Begs to announce to the friends of              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO,"                        |
  |                                                              |
  | residing in the country, that, for their convenience, he has |
  |    made arrangements by which, on receipt of the price of    |
  |                                                              |
  |                 ANY STANDARD BOOK PUBLISHED,                 |
  |                                                              |
  |          the same will be forwarded, postage paid.           |
  |                                                              |
  |     Parties desiring Catalogues of any of our Publishing     |
  |     Houses, can have the same forwarded by inclosing two     |
  |                           Stamps.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                          OFFICE OF                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                      83 Nassau Street.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                        P.O. Box 2783.                        |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       WEVILL & HAMMAR,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Wood Engravers,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                        208 Broadway,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  Bowling Green Savings-Bank                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                         33 BROADWAY,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
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  |                                                              |
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  |                   HENRY SMITH, _President_                   |
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  |                REEVES E. SELMES, _Secretary_.                |
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  |        WALTER ROCHE, EDWARD HOGAN, _Vice-Presidents_.        |
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  |                         DIBBLEEANIA                          |
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  |            The Day Line Steamboats C. Vibbard and            |
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  |  Vestry st. Pier at 8.45, and Thirty-fourth st. at 9 a.m.,   |
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  |        by ferry-boat), Cozzens, West Point, Cornwall,        |
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  |        Bristol, Catskill, Hudson, and New-Baltimore.         |
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  |          at Albany (commencing June 20) for Sharon           |
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  |               passengers from Albany to Troy.                |
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  |                      ESTABLISHED 1866.                       |
  |          JAS R. NICHOLS, M.D.   WM. J. ROLFE. A.M.           |
  |                           Editors                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Boston Journal of Chemistry.                 |
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  |                      HENRY L. STEPHENS,                      |
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  |                           ARTIST,                            |
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  |                    No. 160 FULTON STREET,                    |
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  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
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  |                       GEO. B. BOWLEND,                       |
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  |                    Draughtsman & Designer                    |
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  |                    No. 160 Fulton Street,                    |
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  |                         Room No. 11,                         |
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  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.
       *       *       *       *       *
MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.
AN ADAPTATION,
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.
CHAPTER XII.
A NIGHT OF IT WITH MCLAUGHLIN.
Judge SWEENEY, with a certain supercilious consciousness that he is
figuring in a novel, and that it will not do for him to thwart the
eccentricities of mysterious fiction by any commonplace deference to the
mere meteorological weaknesses of ordinary human nature, does not allow
the fact that late December is a rather bleak and cold time of year to
deter him from taking daily airings in the neighborhood of the
Ritualistic churchyard. Since the inscription of his epitaph on his late
wife upon her monument therein, the churchyard is to him a kind of
ponderous work of imagination with marble leaves, to which he has
contributed the most brilliant chapter; and when he sees any stranger
hovering about a part of the outer railings from whence the inscription
may be read, it is with all the swelling pride of an author who, having
procured the publication of some dreary article in a magazine, is thrown
into an ecstacy of vanity if he sees but one person glance at that
number of the periodical on a news-stand.
Since his first meeting with Mr. BUMSTEAD, on the evening of the
epitaph-reading, Judge SWEENEY has cultivated that gentleman's
acquaintance, and been received at his lodgings several times with
considerable cordiality and lemon-tea. On such occasions, Mr. BUMSTEAD,
in his musical capacity, has sung so closely in Judge SWEENEY'S ear as
to tickle him, a wild and slightly incoherent Ritualistic stave, to the
effect that Saint PETER'S of Rome, with pontifical dome, would by ballot
Infallible be; but for making Call sure, and Election secure, Saint
Repeater's of Rum beats the See. With finger in ear to allay the
tickling sensation, JUDGE SWEENEY declares that this young man smelling
of cloves is a person of great intellectual attainments, and understands
the political genius of his country well enough to make an excellent
Judge of Election.
Walking slowly near the churchyard on this particular freezing December
evening, with his hands behind his bank, and his eyes intent for any
envious husband who may be "with a rush retiring," monumentally
counselled, after reading the Epitaph, Judge SWEENEY suddenly comes upon
Father DEAN conversing with SMYTHE, the sexton, and Mr. BUMSTEAD. Bowing
to these three, who, like himself, seem to find real luxury in open-air
strolling on a bitter night in midwinter, he notices that his model, the
Ritual Rector, is wearing a new hat, like Cardinal's, only black, and is
immediately lost in wondering where he can obtain one like it short of
"You look so much like an author, Mr. BUMSTEAD, in having no overcoat,
wearing your paper collar upside down, and carrying a pen behind your
ear," Father DEAN is saying, "that I can almost fancy you are about to
write a book about us. Well, Bumsteadville is just the place to furnish
a nice, dry, inoffensive domestic novel in the sedative vein."
After two or three ineffectual efforts to seize the end of it, which he
seems to think is an inch or two higher than its actual position, Mr.
BUMSTEAD finally withdraws from between his right ear and head a long
and neatly cut hollow straw.
"This is not a pen, Holy Father," he answers, after a momentary glance
of majestic severity at Mr. SMYTHE, who has laughed. "It is only a
simple instrument which I use, as a species of syphon, in certain
chemical experiments with sliced tropical fruit and glass-ware. In the
precipitation of lemon-slices into cut crystal, it is necessary for the
liquid medium to be exhausted gradually; and, after using this cylinder
of straw for the purpose about an hour ago, I must have placed it behind
my ear in a moment of absent-mindedness."
"Ah, I see," said Father DEAN, although he didn't. "But what is this,
Judge SWEENEY, respecting your introduction of MCLAUGHLIN to Mr.
BUMSTEAD, which I have heard about?"
"Why, your Reverence, I consider JOHN MCLAUGHLIN a Character," responds
the Judge, "and thought our young friend of the organ-loft might like to
"The truth is," explains Mr. BUMSTEAD, "that Judge SWEENEY put into my
head to do a few pauper graves with JOHN MCLAUGHLIN, some moonlight
night, for the mere oddity and dampness of the thing.--And I should
regret to believe," added Mr. BUMSTEAD, raising his voice as saw that
the judiciary was about to interrupt--"And I should really be loathe to
believe that Judge SWEENEY was not perfectly sober when he did so."
"Oh, yes--certainly--I remember--to be sure," exclaims the Judge, in
great haste; alarmed into speedy assent by the construction which he
perceives would be put upon a denial. "I remember it very distinctly. I
remember putting it into your head--by the tumblerful, if I remember
"Profiting by your advice," continues Mr. BUMSTEAD, oblivious to the
last sentence, I am going out to-night, in search of the moist and
picturesque, with JOHN MCLAUGHLIN--"
"Who is here," says Father DEAN.
OLD MORTARITY, dinner-kettle in hand and more mortary than ever, indeed
seen approaching them with shuffling gait. Bowing to the Holy Father, he
is about to pass on, when Judge SWEENEY stops him with--
"You must be very careful with your friend, BUMSTEAD, this evening, JOHN
MCLAUGHLIN, and see that he don't fall and break his neck."
"Never you worry about Mr. BUMSTEAD, Judge," growls OLD MORTARITY. "He
can walk further off the perpendicklar without tumbling than any
gentleman I ever see."
"Of course I can, JOHN MCLAUGHLIN," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, checking another
unseemly laugh of Mr. SMYTHE'S with a dreadful frown. "I often practice
walking sideways, for the purpose of developing the muscles on that
side. The left side is always the weaker, and the hip a trifle lower, if
one does not counteract the difference by walking sideways
occasionally."
A great deal of unnecessary coughing, which follows this physiological
exposition, causes Mr. BUMSTEAD to breathe hard at them all for a
moment, and tread with great malignity upon Mr. SMYTHE'S nearest corn.
While yet the sexton is groaning, OLD MORTARITY whispers to the
Ritualistic organist that he will be ready for him at the appointed hour
to-night, and shuffles away. After which Mr. BUMSTEAD, with the I hollow
straw sticking out fiercely from his ear, privately offers to see Father
DEAN home if he feels at all dizzy; and, being courteously refused,
retires down the turnpike toward his own lodgings with military
precision of step.
When night falls upon the earth like a drop of ink upon the word Sun,
and the stars glitter like the points of so many poised gold pens all
ready to write the softer word Moon above the blot, the organist of St.
Cow's sits in his own room, where his fire keeps-up a kind of aspenish
twilight, and executes upon his accordeon a series of wild and mutilated
airs. The moistened towel which he often wears when at home is turbaned
upon his head, causing him to present a somewhat Turkish appearance; and
as, when turning a particularly complicated corner in an air, it is his
artistic habit to hold his tongue between his teeth, twist his head in
sympathy with the elaborate fingering, and involuntarily lift one foot
higher and higher from the floor as some skittish note frantically
dodges to evade him, his general musical aspect at his own hearth is
that of a partially Oriental gentleman, agonizingly laboring to cast
from him some furious animal full of strange sounds. Thus engaging in
desperate single combat with what, for making a ferocious fight before
any recognizable tune can he rescued from it, is, perhaps, the most
exhausting instrument known to evening amateurs and maddened
neighborhoods, Mr. BUMSTEAD passes three athletic hours. At the end of
that time, after repeatedly tripping-up its exasperated organist over
wrong keys in the last bar, the accordeon finally relinquishes the
concluding note with a dismal whine of despair, and retires in complete
collapse to its customary place of waiting. Then the conquering
performer changes his towel for a hat which would look better if it had
not been so often worn in bed, places an antique black bottle in one
pocket of his coat and a few cloves in the other; hangs an unlighted
lantern before him by a cord passing about his neck, and, with his
umbrella under his arm, goes softly down stairs and out of the house.
Repairing to the marble-yard and home of OLD MORTARITY, which are on the
outskirts of Bumsteadville, he wanders through mortar-heaps, monuments
brought for repair, and piles of bricks, toward a whitewashed residence
of small demensions with a light at the window.
"JOHN McLAUGHLIN, ahoy!"
In response, the master of the mansion promptly opens the door, and it
is then perceptible that his basement, parlor, spare-bedroom and attic
are all on one floor, and that a couple of pigs are spending the season
with him. Showing his visitor into this ingeniously condensed
establishment, he induces the pigs to retire to a corner, and then dons
"Are you ready, JOHN MCLAUGHLIN?"
"Please the pigs, I am, Mr. BUMSTEAD," answers MCLAUGHLIN, taking down
from a hook a lantern, which, like his companion's, he hangs from his
neck by a cord. "My spirits is equal to any number of ghosts to-night,
sir, if we meet 'em."
"Spirits!" ejaculates the Ritualistic organist, shifting his umbrella
for a moment while he hurriedly draws the antique bottle from his
pocket. "You're nervous to-night, J. MCLAUGHLIN, and need a little of
the venerable JAMES AKER'S West Indian Restorative.--I'll try it first
to make sure that I haven't mistaken the phial."
He rests the elongated orifice of the diaphanous flask upon his lips for
a brief interval of critical inspection, and then applies it
thoughtfully to the mouth of OLD MORTARITY.
"Some more! Some more!" pleads the aged MCLAUGHLIN, when the Jamaican
nervine is abruptly jerked from his lips.
"Silence! Com on," is the stern response of the other, who, as he moves
from the house, and restores the crystal antiquity to its proper pocket,
eats a few cloves by stealth. His manner plainly shows that he is
offended at the quantity the old man has managed to swallow already.
Strange indeed is the ghastly expedition to the place of skulls, upon
which these two go thus by night. Not strange, perhaps, for Mr.
MCLAUGHLIN, whose very youth in New York, where he was an active
politician, found him a frequent nightly familiar of the Tombs; but
strange for the organist, who, although often grave in his manner,
sepulchral in his tones, and occasionally addicted to coughin', must be
curiously eccentric to wish to pass into concert that evening with the
Transfixed by his umbrella, which makes him look like a walking cross
between a pair of boots and a hat, Mr. BUMSTEAD leads the way athwart
the turnpike and several fields, until they have arrived at a low wall
skirting the foot of Gospeler's Gulch. Here they catch sight of the
Reverend OCTAVIUS SIMPSON and MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON walking together,
near the former's house, in the moonlight, and, instantaneously, Mr.
BUMSTEAD opens his umbrella over the head of OLD MORTARITY, and drags
him down beside himself under it behind the wall.
"Hallo! What's all this?" gasps Mr. MCLAUGHLIN, struggling affrightedly
in his suffocating cage of whalebone and alpaca. "What's this here old
lady's hoop-skirt doing on me?"
"Peace, wriggling dotard!" hisses BUMSTEAD, jamming the umbrella tighter
over him. "If they see us they'll want some of the West Indian
Restorative."
Mr. SIMPSON and MONTGOMERY have already heard a sound; for they pause
abruptly in their conversation, and the latter asks: "Could it have been
"Ask it if it's a ghost," whispers the Gospeler, involuntarily crossing
"Are you there, Mr. G.?" quavers the raised voice of the young
Southerner, respectfully addressing the inquiry to the stone wall.
"Well," mutters the Gospeler, "it couldn't have been a ghost, after all;
but I certainly thought I saw an umbrella. To conclude what I was
saying, then,--I have the confidence in you, Mr. MONTGOMERY, to believe
that you will attend the dinner of Reconciliation on Christmas eve, as
you have promised."
"Depend on me, sir."
"I shall; and have become surety for your punctuality to that excellent
and unselfish healer of youthful wounds, Mr. BUMSTEAD."
More is said after this; but the speakers have strolled to the other
side of the Gospeler's house, and their words cannot be distinguished
Mr. BUMSTEAD closes his umbrella with such suddenness and violence as to
nearly pull off the head of MCLAUGHLIN; drives his own hat further upon
his nose with a sounding blow; takes several wild swallows from his
antique flask; eats two cloves, and chuckles hoarsely to himself for
some minutes. "Here, 'JOHN MCLAUGHLIN," he says, at last "try a little
more West Indian Restorative, and then we'll go and do a few skeletons."
(_To be Continued_.)
       *       *       *       *       *
What is Likely to be Raised some day, regarding the Pneumatic
TUBAL. CAIN.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration. PUNCHINELLO CORRESPONDENCE.]
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
In order to make this department of PUNCHINELLO as complete as possible,
we have secured the services of the most competent authorities in
literature, art, the sciences in general, history, biography, and the
vast vague unknown. The answers furnished by us to our correspondents
may therefore be relied upon as being strictly accurate.
  _Scales_.--How old was DANIEL LAMBERT at the time of his death?
_Answer_.--736 lbs.
  _Ignoramus_.--Why were the Roman _Saturnalia_ so called?
_Answer_.--The proper spelling of the word is _Sauternalia_. They were
wine feasts; and the vintage most in favor at them was Haut Sauterne.
  _Chasseur_. Is the antelope to be classed among the goat family?
_Answer_.--No. MOORE calls it a "deer gazelle."
  _Armiger_.--Is "arm's length" a recognized measure?
_Answer_.--Yes. It is a _Standard_ measure, as may be seen in the way
that journal is getting ahead of the _Sun_, which it keeps at arm's
  _Molar_.--Yes; burnt Cork is an excellent dentifrice. It should not
  be applied to the teeth of children, however, as it is apt to impart an
  Irish accent, or, in extreme cases, even a negro dialect.
  _Bookworm_.--Do two negatives always constitute an affirmative?
_Answer_.--That depends upon the price charged by the photographer.
  _Sunswick_--Is it true that JAMES FISK, Jr., has purchased Baden and
  another German Duchy?
_Answer_.--No: but he could have both if he wanted two.
  _Rockland_.--Who are the suffering persons represented in DORE'S
  remarkable picture of DANTE and VIRGIL visiting the frozen ward of the
  _Inferno_?
_Answer_.--The Knickerbocker Ice Company.
  _Solitaire_.--On what day did the Fourth of July fall in the year 1788?
_Answer_.--On the Fourth.
  _James Lobbs_.--How long ago is it since desiccated soup first came
_Answer_.--At least as long ago as the days of CROMWELL, whose advice to
his troops was "Put your trust in Providence, and keep your chowder
  _Bach_.--Is the practice of divorce a mark of civilization?
_Answer_--It is. In the Gorilla family, (the nearest approach to the
human,) divorce is not practiced, but it is in Indiana, which is usually
considered to be a State of Civilization.
       *       *       *       *       *
PAT TO THE QUESTION.
Our law-makers in Congress--or rather law-cobblers, for few of them have
risen to the dignity of makers--are asked to repeal the _per cap_. duty
imposed by California on all Chinamen imported there.
The Californians have the authority of Congress itself, for this duty.
By reference to "HEYL'S Rates of Duties on Imports," page 36, art. 691,
under head of "Act of June 30, 1864, chap. 171," "An act to increase
Duties on Imports," etc., we find "on paddy one cent and a half per
pound." Now if a good-sized Irishman pays $2.25, why shouldn't a
"Celestial" pay as much in proportion to the weight of his _corpus_?
       *       *       *       *       *
Contradictory.
It appears that, by a joint resolution of Congress, the use of "that
first-class humbug and fraud, the whiskey meter," has been abolished.
Now there are dozens of members of Congress who are not only
"first-class humbugs and frauds," but whiskey meters, to whom whiskey is
both meat and drink, and yet who ever heard of their proposing to
abolish themselves?
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: STAY-AT-HOME PEOPLE
FOLKS MAY NOT BE ABLE TO GO TO NEWPORT OR LONG BRANCH, BUT THEY CAN
ALWAYS CREATE A LOCAL SENSATION BY TAKING A FOOT-BATH IN THE BACK-YARD.]
       *       *       *       *       *
MURPHY THE CONQUEROR
BY CORPORAL QUINN.
  Come tip us your fist, then, yer sowl you;
    Since iver I come from the wars
  The like wasn't heerd. Fill the bowl you
    Bowld sons of MILESIUS and MARS;
  And dhrink to ould Ireland the turfy
    That's shmilin' out there in the say,
  Wid three cheers for the conqueror MURPHY.
    Whoo! America's ours from to-day.
  Och! SAYZAR he walloped the Briton,
    The Tarthars leap't China's big wall,
  ALEXANDTHUR did half the wurld sit on,
    But niver touched Ireland at all.
  At Clontarf ould BOBU in the surf he
    Sint tumblin' the murdtherin' Danes--
  But, yer sowl, the brave conqueror MURPHY
    Takes the shine out of all of their panes.
  ULYSSES has made him Collecthor,
    (Sich choppin' o' heads ne'er was seen;)
  Sure the hayro will make me Inspecthor
    Whin there's so many "wigs on the green."
  And we'll be night-watchmen uproarious,
    Wid big badges on our coats,
  And we'll fight for TOM MURPHY the glorious,
    Wid our fists, our guns, and our votes.
  At the Custom House, Dutchman and Yankee
    Are thryin' to talk wid a brogue,
  They're all _Irish_, now--fat, lean, or lanky,
    And green are the neckties in vogue.
  They're thracin' themselves to some DURPHY,
    O'NEILL, or McCANN, or O'TAAFFE,
  I'll go bail the bowld conqueror MURPHY
    'S too owld to be caught wid sich chaff.
  Now Dutchmin may go to the divil,
    And Yankees to Plymouth's ould rock,
  We'll blast it, if they are not civil;
    While boys of the raal ould stock
  Will hurroo for ould Ireland the turfy.
    Whoo! Jibralthar is taken to-day,
  Our commandther's the conqueror MURPHY--
    Now a tiger and nine times hoorray!
       *       *       *       *       *
COMIC ZOOLOGY.
Genus Culex.--The American Mosquito
Few American birds are better known than the mosquito. In common with
the woodcock, snipe, and other winged succubi, it breeds in wet places,
yet is always dry. Like them it can sustain life on mud juleps, but
prefers "cluret." It is a familiar creature, seems to regard the human
family as its Blood relations, and is always ready to sucker them.
Being a bird of Nocturnal Habits, it is particularly attracted to human
beings in their Night-shirts. The swallow preys upon it, but it
generally eludes the Bat. Although it cannot be called Noctilucous, like
the lightning bug, it has no objection to alight in the darkness, and
you often knock till you cuss in your vain attempts to prevent its
taking a Shine to you.
The mosquito differs in most respects from all the larger varieties of
the winged tribes, and upon the whole takes after man more than any
other living thing. Nevertheless, it certainly bears a noticeable
resemblance to some of the feathered race. Like the Nightingale, it
"sings darkling," and like the woodpecker, is much addicted to tapping
the bark of Limbs and Trunks for the purpose of obtaining grub. It may
be mentioned as an amiable idiosyncracy of the mosquito, that it is fond
of babies. If there is a child in the house, it is sure to spot the
playful innocent; and by means of an ingenious contrivance combining the
principles of the gimlet and the air-pump, it soon relieves the little
human bud of its superfluous juices. It is, in fact, a born surgeon, a
Sangrado of the Air, and rivals that celebrated Spanish Leech in its
fondness for phlebotomy. Some infidels, who do not subscribe to the
doctrine that nothing was made in vain, consider it an unmitigated
nuisance, but the devout and thoughtful Christian recognizes it as
Nature's preventive of plethora, and as it alternately breathes a Vein
and a song, it may be said (though we never heard the remark,) to
combine the _utile_ with the _dulce_.
All the members of the genus are slender and graceful in their shape and
Gnatty in their general appearance. The common mosquito is remarkable
for its strong attachments. It follows man with more than canine
fidelity, and in some cases, the dog-like pertinacity of its affection
can only be restrained by Muslin. It is of a roving disposition, seldom
remaining settled long in one locality; and is Epicurean in its
tastes--always living, if possible, on the fat of the land. As the
mosquito produces no honey, mankind in general are not as sweet upon it
as they are upon that bigger hum-bug, the buzzy bee; yet it is so far
akin to the bee, that, wherever it forages, it produces something
closely resembling Hives.
Few varieties of game are hunted more industriously than this, yet such
is the fecundity of the species, that the Sportsman's Club has not as
yet thought it necessary to petition the legislature for its protection.
The New Jersey Mosquito is the largest known specimen of the genus,
except the Southern Gallinipper, which is only a few sizes smaller than
the Virginia Nightingale, and raises large speckles similar to those of
the Thrush. Ornithologists who wish to study the habits of the mosquito
in its undomesticated or nomad state, may find it in angry clouds on the
surface of the New Jersey salt marshes at this season, in company with
its teetering long-billed Congener, the Sandsnipe.
During the last month of summer it reigns supreme in the swamps west of
Hoboken, the August Emperor of all the Rushes, and persons of an
apoplectic turn, who wish to have their surplus blood determined to the
surface instead of to the head, will do well to seek the hygienic insect
       *       *       *       *       *
An Apt Quotation.
The name "Louvre" has now been adopted by several places of
entertainment in New York and its suburbs. A Boston gentleman, who
visited seven of them a night or two since, under the escort of a
policeman, declares that, by a slight alteration of a line of MOORE's,
New York may be well described as--
"A place for Louvres, and for Louvres only."
       *       *       *       *       *
THE WATERING PLACES.
Punchinello's Vacations.
Mr. PUNCHINELLO puts up at the Atlantic Hotel when he goes to Cape May;
and if you were to ask him why, he would tell you that it was on account
of the admirable water-punches which JOHN McMAKIN serves up. To be sure
these mixtures do not agree with Mr. P., but he likes to see people
enjoying themselves, even if he can't do it himself. It is this
unselfish disposition, this love of his fellow-men, that enables him to
maintain that constant good humor so requisite to his calling. In fact,
though Mr. P. often says sharp things, he never gets angry. When, on
Thursday of last week, he was walking down the south side of Jackson
street, and a man asked him did he want to buy a bag, Mr. P. was not
enraged. He knew the man took him for a greenhorn, but then the man
himself was a Jerseyman. It is no shame to be a greenhorn to a
Jerseyman. Quite the reverse. Mr. P. would blush if he thought there
lived a "sand-Spaniard" who could not take advantage of him. So Mr. P.
bought the bag, and because it was made of very durable canvas, and
would last a great while, he paid a dollar for it.
He did not ask what it was for. He knew. It was to put Cape May Diamonds
in! He put the bag in his pocket and walked along the beach for three
miles. You can't walk more than three miles here, and if you hire a
carriage you will find that you can't ride less than that distance.
Which makes it bad, sometimes. However, when Mr. P. had finished his
three miles, he didn't want to go any further. He stopped, and gazing
carelessly around to see that no one noticed him, pulled out his canvas
bag and did shuffle a little in the sand with his feet. He might
find some diamonds, you know, just as likely as any of the hundreds of
other people, who, in other sequestered parts of the beach, were pulling
out other canvas bags, and shuffling in the sand with other feet. At
length Mr. P. shuffled himself into a very sequestered nook indeed, and
there he saw a man smoking. His melancholy little boy was sitting by his
side. Perceiving that it was only General GRANT, Mr. P. advanced with
his usual grace and suavity of manner.
"Why, Mr. President!" said he, "I thought you would be found at Long
Branch this season."
"Long--thunder!" ejaculated the General, his face as black as the ace of
spades, (which, by the way, is blue.) "I might go to Nova Zembla for a
quiet smoke, and some sneaking politician would crawl out from the ice
with a petition. I went fishing in Pennsylvania, and I found twenty of
those fellows to every trout. However, I don't mind you. Take a seat and
have a cigar."
[Illustration.]
Mr. P. took the seat, (which was nothing to brag of,) and a cigar,
(which would have been a great deal to brag of, if he had succeeded in
smoking it,) and, after a whiff or two, asked his companion how it was
that he came to send such a message to Congress about Cuba.
"What message?" said GRANT, absently.
Mr. P. explained.
"Oh," said GRANT, "that one! Didn't you like it? CALEB CUSHING wrote it
and brought it to me, and I signed it. If you had written one and
brought it to me, I would have signed that. 'Tisn't my fault if the
thing's wrong. What would you expect of a man?"
Mr. P. concluded that in this case it was ridiculous to expect anything
else, and so he changed the subject.
That afternoon Mr. P. bathed.
He went to SLOAN'S and fitted himself out in a bathing suit, and very
lovely he looked in it, when he emerged from the bathing house at
high tide. With a red tunic; green pants; and a very yellow hat, he
resembled a frog-legged Garibaldian, ready for the harvest.
When he hurried to the water's edge, he hesitated for a moment. The
roaring surf was so full of heads, legs, arms, back-hair, hats and feet,
that he feared there was no room for him. However, he espied a vacancy,
and plunged into the briny deep.
How delicious! How cool! How fresh! How salt! How splendid!
He struck out with his legs; he struck out with his arms; he dived with
his whole body. He skimmed beneath the green waters; he floated on the
rolling wave-tips; he trod water; he turned heels over head in the
emerald depths; and thus, gamboling like an Infant Triton, he passed out
beyond the breakers. It was very pleasant there. Being a little tired,
he found the change from the surging waves to the gentle chuck and flop
of the deep water, most delightful. Languidly, to rest himself, he threw
his arm over a rock just peeping above the water. But the rock gave a
start and a yawn.
It was a sleeping shark!
The startled fish opened his eyes to their roundest, and backed water.
So did Mr. P.
For an instant they gazed at each other in utter surprise. Then the
shark began slowly to sink. Mr. P. knew what that meant. The monster was
striving to get beneath him for the fatal snap!
Mr. P. sank with him!
With admirable presence of mind he kept exactly even with the fish.
[Illustration.]
At last they reached the bottom.
Mr. P. was nearly suffocated, but he determined that he would strangle
rather than rise first. The shark endeavored to crawl under him, but Mr.
P. clung to the bottom.
The fish then made a feint of rising, but, in an instant, Mr. P. had him
around the waist!
The affrighted shark darted to the surface, and Mr. P. inhaled at least
a gallon of fresh air. Never before had oxygen tasted so good!
On the surface the struggle was renewed, but Mr. P. always kept
At last they rested from the contest, and lay panting on the surface of
the water, glaring at each other.
The shark, who was a master of _finesse_, swam out a little way, to
where the water was deeper, and then slowly sank, intending, if Mr. P.
followed him again to the bottom, to stay there long enough to drown the
unfortunate man. But Mr. P. knew a trick worth two of that.
_He didn't follow him at all_! He swam towards shore as fast as he
could, and when the shark looked around, to see if he was coming, he was
safe within the line of surf.
Need it be said that when he reached dry laud, Mr. P. became a hero with
the crowds who had witnessed this heroic struggle?
That evening, as Mr. P. sat upon the portico of his hotel, there came
unto him, in the moonlight, a maiden of the latest fashion.
"Sir," she softly murmured "are you the noble hero who overcame the
Mr. P. looked up at her.
Her soft eyes were dimmed with irresponsible emotion.
"I am," said he.
The maiden stood motionless. Her whole frame was agitated by a secret
At length she spoke.
"Is there a Mrs. P.?" she softly said.
Mr. P. arose. He grasped the back of his chair with trembling hand. His
manly form quivered with a secret struggle.
He looked upon her!
He gazed for a moment, with glowing, passionate eyes, upon that
matchless form--upon that angelic face, and then--he clasped his brows
in hopeless agony. Stepping back, he gave the maiden one glance of
wildest love, followed by another of bitterest despair; and sank
helpless into his chair.
[Illustration.]
The maiden leaned, pale and trembling, against a pillar; but hearing the
approach of intruders, she recovered herself with an effort.
"Farewell," she whispered. "I know! I know! There _is_ a Mrs. P.!"--and
she was gone.
Mr. P. arose and slipped out into the night, shaken by a secret
struggle. He laid upon the sand and kicked up his heels.
_There isn't any_ Mrs. P.!
Mr. P. does not wish to sweep his hand rudely o'er the tender chords of
any heart, but he wants it known that he is neither to be snapped up by
sharks in the sea, or by young women at watering places.
       *       *       *       *       *
A DOG'S TALE.
I am only a dog, I admit; but do you suppose dogs have no feeling? I
guess if you were kicked out of every door-way you ran into, and driven
away from every meat stand or grocery you happened to smell around, you
would think you had feelings.
When I see some dogs riding in carriages, looking so grandly out of the
windows, or others walking along proudly by the side of their owners, I
have a feeling of dislike for the very thought of liberty!
I sometimes go with the crowd to a lecture-room, and listen to the
speeches about freedom and liberty, the hatred of bondage, and all that
sort of thing. I get my tail up, and wish I could tell them what liberty
really is. There is nothing worse in the world than this running around
loose, with no one to look after you, and no one for you to look after;
no one to notice you when you wag your tail, and to have no occasion for
so doing. You go out and you come in, and nobody cares. If you never
come back, no one troubles himself about you.
Every day I hear men reading in the papers about some lucky dogs having
strayed, or having been stolen, a large reward being offered for their
recovery: and I envy each lost dog! I wonder who would advertise for me
if I got lost! Alas! no one. They would not give me a bone to bring me
back, or to keep me from drowning myself. But every boy in the street
thinks he has a right to throw stones at me; and tie tin-kettles to my
tail; and chase me when I have had the good luck to find a bone; and to
set big dogs upon me to worry me when I am faint from hunger and haven't
much pluck; and worse than all, chase me and cry "Ki-yi," when I am
almost dying of thirst!
If you only knew how hard it is for a poor dog to make his way in the
world, with no one to help him to a mouthful of food, you would feel
sorry for us.
But I think we might get along better if it wasn't for the scarcity of
water. I hardly know a spot in the city where I can get a drink; and
many a time I have gone all day without a drop.
If I happen to hang out my tongue and droop my tail, my ears are saluted
with "Mad dog! Let's kill him!" You need not wonder I sometimes turn
round, and snap at my pursuers. I think you would snap, too, if you were
chased through street and lane and alley, till your blood was in a
perfect fever, and you hardly knew which way you were running! I have,
on many such occasions, actually run past a beautiful bone that lay
handy on the side-walk, and never stopped to smell it.
Oh! I wish some one would take me prisoner, and continue to own me, and
keep me in bondage as long as I lived! I should only be too happy to
give up my liberty, and settle down and be a respectable dog!
       *       *       *       *       *
A Bute-Iful Idea.
The Marquis of Bute denies that he is going to return to the Protestant
fold. With reference to the rumor, the Pope stated in the Ecumenical
Council that "the Bute was on the right leg at last, and that he would
launch his thunder against him who should dare that Bute displace."
       *       *       *       *       *
As the shades of night descend (in the neighborhood of Mecklenburg,
N.C.,) and harmless domestic animals begin to compose themselves to
sleep, suddenly the drowsy world is awakened by a roaring like that of a
lion! It proceeds from the forest, in whose bosky recesses (as the
Mecklenburgers suppose) some terrible creature proclaims his hunger and
his inclination to appease it with human flesh! All night long the
quaking denizens of that hamlet lie and listen to the roaring, which is
an effectual preventive of drowsiness, as the moment any one begins to
be seized with it he also begins to fancy he is about to be seized and
deglutinated by the horrid monster! Naturalists are positive it is not
the Gyascutis, but admit that a Megatherium may have lately awakened
from the magnetic sleep of ages, with the pangs of a mighty hunger
tearing his wasted viscera.
If our theory is correct, the good people of Mecklenburg (was it not in
Mecklenburg that the agitation for Independence began?) may be assured
that deliverance from this unreasonable Dragon is possible. We think it
more than likely that it is simply GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN practicing for
the next invasion of Great Britain. Nothing could be more harmless. One
Ku-Kluxian youth, armed with a double-barrelled shot-gun, four
bowie-knives, and a number of revolvers, could rout him instantly, and
even check the flow of his vociferous eloquence so suddenly as to put
him in imminent danger of asphyxia.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: RETRIBUTION.
THE BOYS OF SAN FRANCISCO, EXASPERATED AT THE CONVERSION OF THEIR DOGS
INTO PIE, TIE KETTLES TO THE TAILS OF THE CHINAMEN.]
       *       *       *       *       *
Giving the Cue.
"Is that one of your Chinese _belles_? asked Mr. PUNCHINELLO of Mr.
KOOPMAN-SCHOOP, as one of the newly-imported yallagals passed.
"Yes," replied Mr. K. "You can always tell a Chinese bell from a Chinese
gong by the bell-pull attached to it."
Mr. P. immediately presented his _chapeau_ to Mr. K.
       *       *       *       *       *
HINTS FOR--THOSE WHO WILL TAKE THEM.
Mr. PUNCHINELLO: Your invaluable "Hints for the Family," published some
time since, seem destined to work a revolution in our domestic economy;
as the plans you propose must win the admiration of housekeepers by
their extreme simplicity, aside from any other motives to their
adoption. I have myself tested several of your methods, and find that
you speak from thorough and circumstantial knowledge of your subject In
bread-making, for instance, we find that when the cat reposes in the
dough, it (the dough) will not rise, though the cat does. But in the
clock manufacture, we fear you have divulged one of the secrets of the
Your little invention for carrying a thread should be recommended to
students and other isolated beings, notwithstanding their unaccountable
propensity to pierce other substances than the cloth. They would find
driving the needle through much facilitated by a skilful use of the
table formerly described.
Permit me to make a few additional suggestions.
Get some worsted and a pair of needles; set up from twenty to forty
stitches, more or less, and knit till you are tired. When finished--(the
knitting)--draw out the needles and bite off the thread. You will thus
have made an elegant lamp-mat, of the same color as the worsted, and the
very thing for a Christmas present to your grandmother.
This is a very graceful employment, and a great favorite with ladies; in
fact, some ladies seem so infatuated with work of that kind, that,
according to the new theory of the Future, a fruition of fancy-work will
be amongst their other blissful realizations. And so, after surveying
Deacon QUIRK'S spiritual potato fields, or perhaps some fresh
(spiritual) manifestation of Miss PHELPS'S piety and intelligence, we
may have the pleasure of seeing the sun and moon hung with tidies, and a
lamp-mat under each star.
Take your rejected sketches and compositions, cut them in strips two or
three inches wide, and as long as the paper will permit. Fold these
strips lengthwise as narrow as possible, and smooth the edges down flat
with your finger. When finished, or perhaps before, you will find you
have made a bunch of excellent lamp-lighters.
Get a suit of clothes--broadcloth is the best--and a pair of boots to
stand them in. Button the coat, and insert in the neck any vegetable you
choose, so that it be large enough, (one of the drum-head species is the
best,) and finish with a hat You will then find, doubtless to your
surprise and delight, that you have a man, or an excellent
substitute for one, equal, if not superior to the genuine article,
warranted to be always pleased with his dinner, and never, necessarily,
in the way. Some people may object to its lack of intelligence, as
compared with the original, but careful investigation has shown that the
difference is very slight; yet, admitting even this to be a positive
fault, it is amply counterbalanced by negative merits. Your
correspondent who writes about "The Real Estate of Woman," will be
relieved to find that the threatened dearth in husbands can be so
readily obviated.
ANN O. BLUE.
       *       *       *       *       *
For Singers, Only.
What is the best wine for the voice?
       *       *       *       *       *
A Chop-House Aphorism.
Customers who fee waiters may always be sure of their Feed.
       *       *       *       *       *
The daily papers tell us that "Sixty-Eight Thousand persons visited the
public baths during last week."
They went in--a week lot--and came out sixty-eight thousand strong.
       *       *       *       *       *
Constructive Genius.
"A poor woman in Utica, who owns three houses and is building another,
sends her children into the streets daily to beg."
Quite right. While the youngsters beg in the streets, let the
enterprising old lady go on and begin another house.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Result of the Mongol.
Owing to the influx of Chinamen into this country, the edict against
allowing dogs to run at large during the Summer has been relaxed.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: BOMBASTES BONAPARTE:
NOW PERFORMING AT THE THEATRE FRANCAIS.
"He who would these Boots displace
Must meet BOMBASTES face to face."]
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE NEW PANDORA'S BOX.
REPRESENTATIVE MANUFACTURER, (_springing open Chinese surprise
box_.)--"THERE!--WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT LITTLE JOKER?"
KNIGHT OF ST. CRISPIN.--"PSHAW! THAT'S A MEAN TRICK: WAIT TILL I OPEN
       *       *       *       *       *
HIRAM GREEN ON THE CHINESE.
He write a letter to the North Adams Shoe Manufacturer.--New Occupation
for the "Coming Man."
NSBORO, NYE ONTO VARMONT, _July the 11th_, 18-_Seventy_.
MISTER SAMPSON:
Selestial sir:--I take my goose quil in hand to rite you a letter. I
like your stile--you soot me. I myself have been an old Statesman,
having served my country for 4 years as Gustise of the Peece, raisin'
sed offis to a higher standard than usual, as well as raisin' an
interestin' family of eleven healthy children. Upon the linements of
their countenance the features and stamp of GREEN stands out in bold
relief. They are all genuine Green-bax.
A little cloud no bigger than a man's hand made its appearance over the
golden streets of San Francisco.
It is growin' bigger, and afore we know it, will be bigger than a white
You have ceased the dilemer by the horn which hangs suspended from the
dilemer's head, like the tail of a kite.
While you have set the Chinees peggin' away puttin' bottoms on shoes, a
great many are peggin' away "putin' a head onto you."
In the present statis of things you want to blow up your nerve, and
stand as firm as the rox of Jiberalter, and like BYRON exclaim:
  "To be or not to be, there's the question;--
  Whether a man feels better to pay big wages for shoemakers,
  Or to suffer the slings and arrows of everybody,
  By hirin' Pig-tails for 1/2 price?"
Poleticians of the different churches don't endorse our Selestial
brother. But, sir, I'll venter a few dollars, that if the children of
the son--and dorter--leaned towards either party, he would be gobled up
quicker'n scat, even if he come red hot from old LUCIFER, with a pocket
full of free passes, for the whole nashun, to the Infernal regions.
That's so. A vote's a vote, if it comes from Greenland's coral strand or
Afric's icy mountains. I feel a good deal towards you as a nabor of
mine, named JOE BELCHER, once did.
JOE likes his tod, and can punish as much gin and tansy as a New York
alderman can, when drinkin' at the sity's expense.
JOE went to camp meetin' last week, and, I am pained to say it, JOSEF
got drunker than a biled owl.
While one of the brethern was preachin', JOE sot on a pine log tryin' to
make out wether the preacher was a double-headed man, or whether 2 men
were holdin' forth.
"Who'll stand up for the carpenter's Son?" sed the preacher.
This made JOE look around.
The question was again repeated.
Again JOE looked around for an answer.
Again the preacher said: "Who'll stand up for Him?"
JOE by this time had got onto his feet, and was steadyin' himself by
holdin' onto a tree, while he sung out:
"I say (hic!) ole feller, Ile stand up (hic!) for him, or any 'orrer man
who hain't got any (hic!) more fren's than he has (hic!) in this 'ere
I feel a good deal as JOE did. Anybody who hain't got any more frends
than you have, Mr. SAMPSON, has my sympathy.
For bringin' these _hily morril_ and _refined_ Monongohelians to
Massachusetts is a big feather in your cap, and you will receive your
reward bime-bye.
"The wages of sin is death."
But the wages of a Chinyman is money in a man's pocket. They work cheap.
I am trying to get the Chinese substituted for canal hosses.
A man here by the name of SNYDER, who runs a canal Hoss to our Co.,
talks of sendin' for a lot.
Won't they be bang up with their cues hitcht to a canal bote snakin' it
along at the rate of a mile inside of 2 hours. "G'lang! Tea leaf."
Then when they was restin' from their labors, by tyin' 2 of 'em together
by their cues, stand one opposite the other and hang close between 'em
to dry, on washin' day.
What an aristocratic thing Chiny close-line posts would be. The only
drawback that I know of is, that the confounded posts mite some day walk
off with all the close.
But, sir, if they served me in that manner, I would cover the ground
with broken crockery by smashin' their old Chiny mugs for 'em.
Since you've awoken to _notorosity_, I have been studdyin' out your
family pedigree.
I find your Antsisters are connected with long hair more or less, same
as you be with Chiny pig-tails.
Old SAMPSON the first's strength, like your'n of to-day, lade in his
He could cut off more heads, and slay more Fillistians with the jaw bone
of a member of Congress than the President of these U.S. can by makin' a
new deal in the Custom house department.
And, sir, I reckon about these days, we are getting rather more of that
same kind of jaw bone than is healthy.
I am afrade not.
Mrs. SAMPSON worked like a kag of apple sass in hot weather, to find out
where her old man's strength was. When she found out, what did she do?
Why, she got a pair of sheep shears and cropped him closer'n a state
prison bird, and tryin' to lift a house full of fokes, it fell onto him
and smashed him.
Like LOT'S wife, she'd orter been turned into a pillow of salt, and then
the pillow had orter been sewed up and cast into the sea.
Another of the SAMPSONS wouldn't even chop off MARIAR ANTERNETTE'S head
until her hair had been cut off, so he could peel her top-knot off slick
Lookin' back at these cheerful antsisters of your'n, it's no wonder you
go in for long haired labor. It runs in the SAMPSON blood.
The public is cussin' you from DANIEL to BEEBSHEBER, because you've
brought a lot of modern Philistines to Massachusetts.
Let 'em cus.
That's their lay.
Your'n is, to bild up a fortin, if Poor-houses for white laborers to
live in is thicker in North Adams than goose pimples on a fever and ager
sufferer's form.
As old Grandma SAMPSON cut off her old man's long hair, so she could
handle him in one of them little fireside scrimmages which we married
fokes enjoy, so fokes would crop you, my hi toned old Joss stick.
But I've writ more'n I intended to. I would like to have you come and
make us a visit.
Bring along your wife, DELIAL. Tell her to bring her croshay work.
Mrs. GREEN is interestin' company among wimmen.
What MARIAR don't know about her nabors, don't happen.
Then her veel pot-pies and ingin puddins are just rats.
She can nock the spots off from any woman who wears a waterfall, gettin'
up a good square meal.
Anser soon, and don't forget to pay your own postige.
Hopin' you are sound on the goose and able to enjoy your _Swi lager und
I am thine, old hoss,
HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,
Lait Gustise of the Peece.
       *       *       *       *       *
TREATMENT FOR POTATO BUGS.
Mr. CLARK JOHNSON, of Pendleton, Indiana, not at all discouraged by the
signal failures of many previous campaigns against the Bug, has entered
the (potato) field with a new weapon, viz.: a mixture of Paris Green and
Ashes. Applied frequently, as a Top Dressing, this gentle stimulant
imparts a new energy to the vine, and also to the Bug, who thus becomes
so vigorous, and at the same time restless, that an uncontrollable
impulse seizes him to visit the home of his ancestors, (Colorado.) Here,
as is supposed by Mr. JOHNSON, the fictitious energy that had been
supplied by the Mixture deserts the immigrant, who now settles down
contentedly, nor ever roams again.
As (owing to the present facilities of freighting, etc.,) the Potatoes
of Pendleton may eventually find the New York market, which always
invites the superior esculent, we would like to suggest to Mr. JOHNSON
that this Mixture be administered to the Bug with a spoon, and not
sprinkled promiscuously on the ground. We have drank Tea with a "green
flavor," and found it comparatively innocuous; but Potatoes with a green
flavor, (especially if flavored by the JOHNSONIAN method,) we should
consider as doubtful, to say the least. It is the general impression
that there is nothing Green in Paris; but your house painter knows there
is such a thing as Paris Green, and that it is the oxyde of copper.
Therefore, should one eat many of the potatoes nourished as above, we
should expect to see him gradually turning into a Bronze Statue--a fate
which, unless he were particularly Greeky and nice-looking, we should
wish to anticipate, if possible, in the interests of art.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: MR. SWACHENBACKER, OF THE AIRY 'UN SOCIETY, CREATES A
SENSATION AMONG THE LADY BATHERS AT "THE BRANCH," BY APPEARING AMONG
THEM AS A MERMAN, WITH A REAL LOOKING-GLASS AND A FALSE TAIL.]
       *       *       *       *       *
Fashionable Intelligence.
Two colors that once were fashionable in the Parisian _toilette_, viz.:
BISMARCK brown and Prussian blue, are now excluded from court circles,
by command of the Empress.
       *       *       *       *       *
Weather or No.
Most remarkable in the history of mathematics are the calculations
published by the weather-prophet of the _Express_. Arithmetic turns pale
when she glances at them, and, striking her multiplication table with
her algebraic knuckles, demands to know why the _Express_ does not add a
Cube-it to its THATCHER.
       *       *       *       *       *
Comparative Industry.
It is reported that "the journeymen lathers demand four dollars per
day." As a question of comparative soap, the latherers will in due time
strike too. The ultimatum will be-"Raise our pay or we drop the Razor."
       *       *       *       *       *
"Omnibus Hoc," etc.
What is the difference between theft in an omnibus and the second deal
One is a Game of the Stage, and the other is a Stage of the Game.
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR AGRICULTURAL COLUMN.
Memorabilia of "What I Know About Farming."
Profound subjects should be well meditated upon. A man may write about
"New America," or "Spiritual Wives," or any such light and airy subject,
without possessing much knowledge, or indulging in much thought, but he
can't play such tricks upon Agriculture. She is very much like a donkey:
unless you are thoroughly acquainted with her playful ways, she will
upset you in a quagmire. Perhaps it is due to my readers that I should
say here that I have read a great many valuable treatises upon this
subject, among which may be named, "Cometh up as a Flour," "Anatomy of
Melon-cholly," "Sowing and Reaping," one thousand or two volumes of
Patent Office Reports, and three or four bushels of "Proverbial
Philosophy." I would also add, that I invariably remain awake on clear
nights, and think out the ideas set down in this column. Probably you
may not be able to find traces of all that labor here, but I assure you
that those books are more familiar to me than is my catechism. However,
anybody who thinks he knows more about vegetables than I do, can send me
a letter containing his information, and, if I don't cabbage it, I will
plant it carefully in the bottom of the waste paper basket. We now
proceed to consider.
This vegetable always flourishes in a moist soil, though it generally
has a holy horror of _aqua pura_. Some of them are of an immense size; I
have seen them fill a tumbler. Producers, however, generally charge more
for the large ones than for the small. The size of the nip usually
depends upon the par. It may be that your par's nip is extremely small,
while JOHN SMITH'S par's nip is very large. Four fingers is, I believe,
considered to be the regulation size.
This vegetable is served up in a variety of forms. Some pars like it
with milk; in that case it is generally "hung up." In the winter it is
often called a sling or a punch; in the summer it is denominated a
cobbler or a jew-lip. Perhaps it would be well for those who love it, to
indulge in par's nip now, for some people say, that in the days of the
"coming man" there will be no par's nips. It must be admitted that the
father of a family, who indulges too freely in par's nip, is very likely
to run to seed, and to plant himself in such unfruitful places as the
gutter. If he be a young par, he may become a rake, and fork over his
money, and then ho! for the alms-house.
Numerous efforts have been made to suppress this vegetable, among which
may be reckoned, "Father, dear Father, come home with me now," Brother
GOUGH'S circus, and the parades of the F.M.T.A.B. Societies. Maine and
Vermont Neal together in the front rank of its opponents. In Boston they
tried to suppress this vegetable, but, if you followed your par to a
store and heard him order a cracker, you could smell par's nip.
Among the mild varieties of this article may be mentioned benzine,
camphene and kerosene; the next strongest kind is called Jersey
lightning; but, if you desire par's nips in their most luxuriant form,
go to Water street and try the species known as "rot-gut."
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
Poetry is the exclusive birthright of no age of people. The dirtiest
Hindoo sings to his _fetish_ the songs of the Brahmin muse, with as keen
a relish as the most devout Christian does the hymns of Dr. WATTS.
Melody comes of Heaven, and is a gift vouchsafed to all generations, and
all kinds of men. In proof of this, let us adduce a single extract from
the great epic of the Hawaiian poet, POPPOOFI, entitled "Ka Nani E!"
  Ka nani e! ka nani e!
    Alohi puni no
  Mai luna, a mai lalo nei,
    A ma na mea a pau.
We would call the attention of our readers particularly to the sublime
sentiment of the second line. "Alohi puni no," sings the peerless
POPPOOFI, and where, in the pages of that other Oriental HOMER, the
Persian HAFI, can be found anything half so magnificent? There may be
critics bigoted enough to think that the last line destroys the effect
of the other three; but _we_ don't. PUNCHINELLO would much rather
discover the good in a thing at any time, than go a-fishing on Sundays.
It is not in the nature of a properly constituted human being to lay his
hand upon his heart and chant:
  "Ka nani e! Ka nani e!"
in the presence of his mother-in-law, without feeling that life is not
so miserable as some people would make it out. In the words of ALEXANDER
SELKIRK'S man FRIDAY: "_Palmam qui meruit ferat_."
       *       *       *       *       *
THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.
Emmet is a name which has heretofore been associated in the public mind
with the Negro Minstrel business. Certain weird barbaric melodies, which
defy all laws of musical composition, but which haunt one like a dream
of a lonely night on some wild African river, are said to have been
written by "OLD EMMET." Is there any such person? Has any one actually
seen "OLD EMMET" in the flesh, and with--say a high hat and a cotton
umbrella? For my part I disbelieve in the popular theory of the origin
of these EMMETIC melodies which stir one so strangely. They are not the
work of any earthly song writer, but are born of some untuned Eolian
harp played upon by uncertain breezes, that murmur the memory of
tropical groves and sigh with the sadness of exile. There is no "OLD
EMMET." If there is, let him be brought forward--not to be chucked out
of the window, as Mrs. F.'s AUNT might suggest,--but to be thanked and
wondered at as an inchoate OFFENBACH, who might, under other
circumstances, have written an American opera-bouffe, or, better still,
as a possible CHOPIN, who might have written a second "March Funebre" as
hopeless and desolate and fascinating as that of the despairing and
poetic Pole. (I am coming to "FRITZ" in a moment, but I won't be hurried
by any one.)
As for JOSEPH K. EMMET, he is an undoubted reality. If you don't believe
it, go to WALLACK'S and see him. Somebody discovered this EMMET in the
Pastoral privacy of the Bowery. Mr. GAYLER was made to write a play for
him, and EMMET, the Bowery Minstrel, straightway became Mr. JOSEPH K.
EMMET, the renowned impersonator of "FRITZ." He plays "FRITZ" at
WALLACK'S every evening, and the entertainment is something of this
ACT I.--_Scene, the outside of Castle Garden. Enter baggage-smashers,
emigrant-runners, aldermen, and other criminals_.
RUNNER. "There's a ship a' comin' up. I'll lay for the Dutchmen."
BOBBIT. (_A concert-saloon manager_.) "There's a ship coming up. I'll
lay for the Dutch girls."
DISSOLUTE COLONEL. "There's a ship coming up. I want you two fellows to
look out for a Dutchman named "FRITZ," who is onboard. He takes care of
a girl, KATRINA, whom I adore. Carry off FRITZ and I'll carry off the
(_Various emigrants enter and are hustled off by the runners_. FRITZ
_and_ KATRINA _finally appear_.)
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist gut. Ach himmel; zwei bier und Limburger."
(_The runners seize his trunk and carry it off. The_ DISSOLUTE COLONEL
_hurries_ KATRINA _into a coach and carries her off_. FRITZ _is carried
away by his emotions. Curtain_.)
ACT II.--_Scene, a boarding-house parlor. Enter_ DISSOLUTE COLONEL
and KATRINA.
DISSOLUTE COLONEL. "You are in my power. Be mine, and you shall have as
many bonnets and things as you can wish. Refuse, and I'll send every
reporter in the city to interview you."
KATRINA. "Base villain! I despise you. Let the torturers do their
(_Enter_ FRITZ, _disguised as a member of the Sorosis_.)
KATRINA. "You here! Be cautious. The hash is drugged. Save me, my
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist nicht gut. Herr Colonel, Ich bin KATRINA'S aunt. Ich
habe gekommen to take her away wid me, ye owdacious spalpeen."
DISSOLUTE COLONEL. "Glad to see you. Take some hash, madam?"
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist gut. Take some yourself, you murtherin' thafe of the
(_The_ DISSOLUTE COLONEL _forgets that the hash is drugged. He takes it
and falls insensible_. FRITZ _and_ KATRINA _escape. Scene changes to
Judge_ DOWLING'S _court-room_.)
FRITZ. (_Having left off his Sorosis disguise_.) "Ja. Das is nicht gut.
Behold, O wise young judge, the misguided person who put my trunk in his
pocket and ran away with it."
JUDGE. "Prove your case."
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist gut. Begar! I proves him _toute de suite_--what you
call to wunst. You see those Limburger cheese in the villain's mouth. He
got them out of my trunk. So you see I have him ein thief geproven."
JUDGE. "Your case is proved. Let the prisoner be removed."
FRITZ. "Ja. Das ist sehr gut. Now I'm a gwine to de saloon, where dis
niggah has a ningagement for to sing."
(_Scene changes to a concert saloon_. FRITZ _enters and goes through an
entire programme of negro minstrelsy, to the wild delight of the
gallery. At last the lazy curtain slowly consents to fall_.)
ACT III.--The DISSOLUTE COLONEL _come to grief, and_ FRITZ _marries_
KATRINA. If you want to know all about it, go to the theatre. I don't
intend to ruin the establishment by giving the public the whole play for
the ridiculous sum which is charged for this copy of PUNCHINELLO. The
third act is the last of the play, and when the curtain fells, the
audience immediately proceeds to pick EMMET to pieces.
BOY IN THE GALLERY. "Ain't he just tip, though? I've seen him lots o'
times at TONY PASTOR'S, and I allers knowed he'd be a big thing if the
Bowery or thishyer theatre got a hold on him."
YOUNG LADY. "Isn't it frightfully low? The idea of Mr. WALLACK
permitting this negro minstrelsy in his theatre. To be sure Mr. EMMET is
funny; but I hate to see people funny in this place."
OLD GENTLEMAN. "My dear! don't be absurd. Suppose Mr. EMMET has been a
minstrel, is that any proof that he can't be an actor? The young fellow
has his faults, but they will wear off in time, and he is brimful of
real talent. The play isn't a model of excellence, but it was made to
show EMMET'S strong points, and it answers its purpose. Shall we cry
down a talented and promising young actor simply because he has been a
minstrel, and now has the audacity to play at WALLACK'S? And besides,
haven't we seen pantomime, and legs, and LOTTA, and DAN BRYANT at
WALLACK'S? You never objected to any of the illegitimacies that have
preceded FRITZ;--why then should you begin now? Give EMMET and GAYLER a
chance. At any rate they can make you laugh, which is something that
BOUCICAULT with his '_Lost at Sea_' did not do."
       *       *       *       *       *
A PARABLE ABOUT THE TWELFTH OF JULY.
In a far distant land, beyond the sea, there dwelt an Orange Lily.
Separated from it by a very absurd and useless ditch, a Green Shamrock
spread its trefoil leafage to the sun, and grew greener every day. Now,
in course of time, a very ill feeling sprang up between the Lily and the
Shamrock, on account of color, the former despising the latter because
it was green, and the latter hating the former because it was orange--as
if both colors hadn't lived together in the rainbow ever since the
aquatic excursion of old Mr. NOAH, without ever falling out of it or
with each other. In time they both crossed the sea, and took root in a
far-away land, where they became acquainted with a very remarkable
animal called the American Beaver.
The industry of this creature urged the Lily to toil and spin, contrary
to its usual habits, while the Shamrock converted its trifoliated leaves
into shovels, and took a contract for excavating the hemisphere. And so
they might have jogged on very well together, but for their stupid way
of showing their colors when there was no occasion for it. This greatly
disgusted their friend, the American Beaver, who didn't care a pinch of
snuff about color, (black is not a color, you know,) but who went in for
faithful and persistent work. One beautiful Twelfth of July, the Lily
arose very early in the morning, and, shaking out her orange leaves,
defied the Shamrock to "come on." The Shamrock came on. There was a
vegetable howl, and clash, and clangor in the air, and the Lily, having
knocked off several of the Shamrocks' greenest leaves, went to its
friend, the American Beaver, for comfort and support. But the American
Beaver, instead of countenancing the Lily, said: "Look here, Lily, I
guess you are about the greatest fool I ever _did_ see, except, perhaps,
the Shamrock. As long as you two stick to your work, instead of sticking
out your colors and sticking your knives into each other, I am very glad
to have you for neighbors, but now that you have shown yourselves to be
jack-asses instead of vegetables, I would not give an American Beaver
dam for the two of you."
       *       *       *       *       *
CONDENSED CONGRESS.
A pleasant philosopher tells us that blessings brighten as they take
their flight. The flight of Congress may be regarded as a blessing. But
Congressmen do not brighten. PUNCHINELLO listens in vain for the swan
song of SUMNER, and looks longingly, without being gratified by the
spectacle of the oratorical funeral pyre of NYE. Almost the only gleam
of humor he discerns in his weekly wading through the watery and windy
wastes of the Congressional Globe is a comic coruscation by Mr. CAMERON.
Mr. McCREERY had had the abominable impudence to introduce
a bill relieving the disabilities of a few friends of his in Kentucky.
Mr. CAMERON objected upon the ground that one of these persons was named
SMITH, and used to be a New York Street Commissioner. Any man who had
been a New York Street Commissioner ought to be hanged as soon as any
decent pretext could be found for hanging him. (Murmurs of approbation
from the New York reporters.) Still this was not his main objection to
SMITH. The SMITH family had furnished more aid and comfort to the rebel
army than any other family in the South. No SMITH should, with his
consent, be permitted to participate in the conduct of a Government
which so many SMITHS had conspired to overthrow. Moreover, this was an
incorrigible SMITH. It was an undisputed fact that SMITH had given up a
lucrative office to follow his political convictions. Such a man could
not be viewed by Senators with any other feelings than those of horror
and disgust. Let them reflect what would be the effect of polluting this
body, as by this bill it was proposed to make it possible to do, with a
man so dead to all the common feelings of our nature that he would set
up his own conceits against the practice of his fellow-Senators, and the
rewards of a grateful country. This settled the fate of SMITH, but the
rest of Mr. McCREERY's friends, being obscure persons, were let in, in
spite of the "barbaric yaup" of DRAKE, who said that the next thing
would be a proposition to enact a similar outrage in Missouri, and
thereby abet the efforts of the bold bad men who were trying to get him
out of his seat.
SCHENCK insisted upon the Tariff. He had been visited by
delegations from the great heart of the nation, who assured him that the
great heart of the nation yearned for an immediate increase of the duty
on various articles which competed with the articles manufactured by the
members of the delegation. No longer ago than yesterday a manufacturer
of double-back-action jack-planes had assured him that the
single-forward-action jack-planes poured upon our shores by the pauper
labor of Europe, were, so to speak, shaving off the edge of the national
life. A gentleman whose name was known to the uttermost parts of the
civilized world, who had shed new lustre upon the American name by the
great boon he had bestowed upon mankind in the American self-filling
rotary Bird of Freedom inkstand with revolving lid, had said, with the
tears of patriotic shame and sorrow in his eyes, that there were
recreant writers who preferred to purchase the Birmingham inkstand,
which required to be filled, did not rotate, and had no revolution to
its lid, at fifty cents, than to secure his own triumph of American
ingenuity at ten dollars. Such misguided men must be taught their duty
to their native land. Mr. SCHENCK moved an increase to 4,000 per cent,
_ad valorem_ on the foreign jack-plane, which he characterized as a Tool
of Tyranny, and the Birmingham inkstand. The thing was done.
Mr. DAWES said he was disgusted. Everybody's jobs were put through
except his. He threatened to go home and tell his constituents.
Mr. PETERS suggested that Mr. DAWES had better go out and take "suthin'
soothin'." (Mr. PETERS is from Maine, and his remark will probably be
understood there.) If he might be pardoned the liberty he would
recommend a little ice in it.
Mr. DAWES said he could do his own drinking. As for PETERS, he scorned
him. Moreover, PETERS was one-eyed.
Mr. PETERS appealed to his record to show that he had two eyes. He did
not understand the anger of Mr. DAWES. Of course when he suggested a
drink, he assumed the responsibility of paying for it.
Mr. DAWES said that altered the case entirely. He took pleasure in
withdrawing his hasty remarks, and in assuring the House that he
profoundly venerated PETERS, and that PETERS had two perfect eyes of
unusual expressiveness.
Mr. BINGHAM called attention to the case of Mr. PORTER, who had been
smitten on the nose by a vile creature whom he declined to drink with.
This was a blow at the national life, and he thought the punishment of
treason was imperatively demanded.
Mr. BUTLER said he had been kicked once. He assured the House that the
sensation was repugnant to his feelings as a man--much more as a
Congressman. He moved to amend by substituting slow torture.
It was finally resolved to put the wretch in irons and feed him on bread
       *       *       *       *       *
A Drowsy Con.
When a man is sleepy, what sort of transformation does he desire?
He wishes he were a-bed.
       *       *       *       *       *
 An Anecdote of the good old Square Kind.
MRS. PRINGLEWOOD, having been afflicted with a chimney that smoked, sent
for a chimney-doctor to cure it.
When the cure had been thoroughly effected, says Mrs. PRINGLEWOOD to the
chimney-doctor: "My son, a boy of but fourteen, smokes awful; couldn't
you cure him as you did the chimney?"
"No I couldn't, marm," returned the chimney-doctor, who was a wag: "but
I see what you're arter, marm--you want me to teach him to draw!"
       *       *       *       *       *
O Deer, Deer!
_Trichinoe_ are said to have been discovered in the flesh of Oregon
deer. If this should prove true, Oregon venison must be anything but a
benison; but it is more than likely that the report originated in the
fact that there is in the East Indies a species of the cervine family
known as the Hog deer.
       *       *       *       *       *
Scientific Intelligence.
We learn from exchanges that in Missouri, where the wages of
working-people average five dollars _per diem_, that the Legislature
have decreed a Mining Bureau, and a Geological Survey of the State--the
remuneration of the assistant geologists to be at the rate of $1.50 _per
diem_. Why should these learned geologists waste their time for a
compensation so mean? Let them rather convert their surveying-staffs
into ox-goads, and turn their attention to Gee-haw-logy,--'twill pay
better than t'other thing.
       *       *       *       *       *
Men and Manners
The following paragraph, cut from a newspaper, suggests a good deal:
"A Hindoo cabby, before mounting the box and taking the reins, always
first prays that his driving may be to the glory of his God."
Now this is precisely what the New York hackman invariably does before
he gathers up the reins and urges on his "galled jades." He curses his
horses, his passengers, and his own eyes, and thus commends his driving
to the glory of _his_ God, whose other name is LUCIFER.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                         Are offering                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                    A SPLENDID ASSORTMENT                     |
  |                            OF THE                            |
  |                   LATEST PARIS NOVELTIES.                    |
  |                              IN                              |
  |                                                              |
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  |                      GRAIN AND TAFFETA                       |
  |                                                              |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. STEWART & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                         Are Offering                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Extraordinary Bargains                    |
  |                              IN                              |
  |            LADIES' PARIS AND DOMESTIC READY-MADE             |
  |                Silk, Grenadine, Swiss Muslin,                |
  |                     Victoria Lawn, Linen                     |
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  |                                                              |
  |             Children's Linen and Pique Garments,             |
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  |                       DRESSES &c., &c.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
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  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Steward & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                Are closing out their stock of                |
  |                FRENCH, ENGLISH, AND DOMESTIC                 |
  |                           CARPETS,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |           Oil Cloths, Rugs, Mats, Cocoa and Canton           |
  |                     Mattings, &c., &c.,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |               At a Great REDUCTION IN PRICES.                |
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  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A. T. STEWART &CO.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                     Offer the following                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Extraordinary Inducements                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                   IN PRICES TO PURCHASERS,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |   In order to close the following portion of their Stock:    |
  |                                                              |
  |            Striped Checks, & Broche Poplinettes,             |
  |                    Only 50 cts. per Yard.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |              Heavy Black and White Check Silks,              |
  |                75 cts. per Yard, value $1.50.                |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Real Gaze de Chambrey,                    |
  |                75 cts. per Yard, formerly $2.                |
  |                                                              |
  |             Striped Mongoline Silks (a Beautiful             |
  |                    Article for Costumes),                    |
  |                   $1 per Yard, formerly $2                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                     A LARGE QUANTITY OF                      |
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  |                   STRIPED & CHECKED SILKS,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |           This Season's Importation, $1 per Yard.            |
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  |           NEW ROUBAIX SILKS, 56 INCHES WIDE, $1.25           |
  |                          per Yard.                           |
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  |                         Wide, $1.75.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |           EXTRA HEAVY PONGE SILKS, ONLY $1.60 per            |
  |                    Yard, formerly $2.50.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                    A LARGE ASSORTMENT OF                     |
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  |          Plain Colored POULTS DE SOIES, TAFFETTAS,           |
  |                      FAILLES, &c., &c.,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                   Choice Shades of Color.                    |
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  |                    _AN IMMENSE STOCK OF_                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                         BLACK SILKS,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                  At Prices Lower Than Ever.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                 4th Ave., 9th and 10th Sts.                  |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
PUNCHINELLO.
The first number of this Illustrated Humorous and Satirical Weekly Paper
was issued under date of April 2, 1870. The Press and the Public in
every State and Territory of the Union endorse it as the best paper of
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       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: Caption: THE COMING MILLENNIUM,
WHEN EVERYTHING IS TO BE CHEAP, AND THE WHITE MAN WILL STARVE.]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
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  |                                                              |
  |                 THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                  The New Burlesque Serial,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |              Written expressly for PUNCHINELLO,              |
  |                                                              |
  |                              BY                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                       ORPHEUS C. KERR,                       |
  |                                                              |
  | Commenced in No. 11. will be continued weekly throughout the |
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  | A sketch of the eminent author, written by his bosom friend, |
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  |                TICKNOR'S FIELDS, NEW JERSEY.                 |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
 Vol. 1. No. 19.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 6, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD, By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.
       *       *       *       *       *
See 15th Page for Extra Premiums.
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.
AN ADAPTATION.
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.
CHAPTER XII--(Continued.)
The pauper burial-ground toward which they now progress in a rather
high-stepping manner, or--to vary the phrase--toward which their steps
are now very much bent, is not a favorite resort of the more cheerful
village people after nightfall. Ask any resident of Bumsteadville if he
believed in ghosts, and, if the time were mid-day and the place a
crowded grocery store, he would fearlessly answer in the negative; (just
the same as a Positive philosopher in cast-iron health and with no
thunder shower approaching would undauntedly deny a Deity!) but if any
resident of Bumsteadville should happen to be caught near the country
editor's last home after dark, he would get over that part of his road
in a curiously agile and flighty manner;--(just the same as a Positive
philosopher with a sore throat, or at an uncommonly showy bit of
lightning, would repeat "Now I lay me down to sleep," with surprising
devotion.) So, although no one in all Bumsteadville was in the least
afraid of the pauper burial-ground at any hour, it was not invariably
selected by the great mass of the populace as a peerless place to go
home by at midnight; and the two intellectual explorers find no
sentimental young couples rambling arm in arm among the ghastly
head-boards, nor so much as one loiterer smoking his segar on a
suicide's tomb.
"JOHN McLAUGHLIN, you're getting nervous again," says Mr. BUMSTEAD,
catching him in the coat collar with the handle of his umbrella and
drawing the other toward him hand-over-hand. "It's about time that you
should revert again to the hoary JAMES AKER'S excellent preparation for
the human family.--I'll try it first, myself, to see if it tastes at all
of the cork.
"Ah-h," sighs OLD MORTARITY, after his turn has come and been enjoyed at
last, "that's the kind of Spirits I don't mind being a wrapper to. I
could wrap _them_ up all right."
Reflectively chewing a clove, the Ritualistic organist reclines on the
pauper grave of a former writer for the daily press, and cogitates upon
his companion's leaning to Spiritualism; while the other produces
matches and lights their lanterns.
"Mr. McLAUGHLIN," he solemnly remarks, waving his umbrella at the graves
around, "in this scene you behold the very last of man's individual
being. In this entombment he ends forever. Tremble, J. McLAUGHLIN!
--forever. Soul and Spirit are but unmeaning words, according
to the latest big things in science. The departed Dr. DAVIS SLAVONSKI,
of St. Petersburg, before setting out for the Asylum, proved, by his
Atomic Theory, that men are neatly manufactured of Atoms of matter,
which are continually combining together until they form Man; and then
going through the process of Life, which is but the mechanical effect of
their combination; and then wearing apart again by attrition into the
exhaustion of cohesion called Death; and then crumbling into separate
Atoms of native matter, or dust, again; and then gradually combining
again, as before, and evolving another Man; and Living, and Dying,
again; and so on forever. Thus, and thus only, is Man immortal. You are
made exclusively of Atoms of matter, yourself, JOHN McLAUGHLIN. So am I."
"I can understand a man's believing that _he, himself,_ is all Atoms of
matter, and nothing else," responds OLD MORTARITY, skeptically.
"As how, JOHN McLAUGHLIN,--as how?"
"When he knows that, at any rate, he hasn't got one atom of common
sense," is the answer.
Suddenly Mr. BUMSTEAD arises from the grave and frantically shakes hands
"You're right, sir!" he says, emotionally. "You're a gooroleman, sir.
The Atom of common sense was one of the Atoms that SLAVONSKI forgot all
about. Let's do some skeletons now."
At the further end of the pauper burial-ground, and in the rear of the
former Alms-House, once stood a building used successively as a
cider-mill, a barn, and a kind of chapel for paupers. Long ago, from
neglect and bad weather, the frail wooden superstructure had fallen into
pieces and been gradually carted off; but a sturdy stone foundation
remained underground; and, although the flooring over it had for many
years been covered with debris and rank growth, so as to be
undistinguishable to common eyes from the general earth around it, the
great cellar still extended beneath, and, according to weird rumor, had
some secret access for OLD MORTARITY, who used it as a charnel
store-house for such spoils of the grave as he found in his prowlings.
To the spot thus historied the two moralists of the moonlight come now,
and, with many tumbles, Mr. McLAUGHLIN removes certain artfully placed
stones and rubbish, and lifts a clumsy extemporized trap-door. Below
appears a ricketty old step-ladder leading into darkness.
"I heard such cries and groans down there, last Christmas Eve, as
sounded worse than the Latin singing in the Ritualistic church,"
observes McLAUGHLIN.
"Cries and groans!" echoes Mr. BUMSTEAD, turning quite pale, and
momentarily forgetting the snakes which he is just beginning to discover
among the stones. "You're getting nervous again, poor wreck, and need
some more West Indian cough-mixture.--Wait until I see for myself
whether it's got enough sugar in it."
In due time the great nervous antidote is passed and replaced, and then,
with the lighted lanterns worked around under their arms, they go down
the tottering ladder. Down they go into a great, damp, musty cavern, to
which their lights give a pallid illumination.
"See here," says OLD MORTARITY, raising a long, curved bone from the
floor. "Look at that: shoulder-blade of unmarried Episcopal lady, aged
thirty-nine."
"How do you know she was so old, and unmarried?" asks the organist.
"Because the shoulder-blade's so sharp."
Mr. Bumstead is surprised at this specimen of the art of an AGASSIZ and
WATERHOUSE HAWKINS in such a mortary old man, and his intellectual pride
causes him to resolve at once upon a rival display.
"Look at this skull, JOHN McLAUGHLIN," he says, referring to an object
that he has found behind the ladder. "See thish fine, retreating brow,
bulging chin, projecting occipital bone, and these orifices of ears that
musht've been stupen'sly long. It's the skull, JOHN McLAUGHLIN, of a
twin-brother of the man who really wished--really wished, JOHN
McLAUGHLIN--that he could be sat'shfied, sir, in his own mind, that
CHARLES DICKENS was a Christian writer."
"Why, thash's skull of a hog," explains Mr. McLAUGHLIN, with some
"Twin-brother--all th'shame," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, as though that made no
earthly difference.
Once more, what a strange expedition is this! How strangely the eyes of
the two men look, after two or three more applications to the antique
flask; and how curiously Mr. Bumstead walks on tip-toe at times and
takes short leaps now and then.
"Lesh go now," says BUMSTEAD, after both have been asleep upon their feet
several times; "I think th's snakes down here, JOHN McBUMSTEAD."
"Wh'st! monkies, you mean,--dozens of black monkies, Mr. BUMPLIN,"
whispers OLD MORTARITY, clutching his arm as he sinks against him.
"Noshir! Serp'nts!" insists Mr. BUMSTEAD, making futile attempts to open
his umbrella with one hand. "Warzesmarrer with th' light?--ansh'r me t'
once, Mac JOHNBUNKLIN!"
In their swayings under the confusions and delusions of the vault, their
lanterns have worked around to the neighborhoods of their spines, so
that, whichever way they turn, the light is all behind them. Greatly
agitated, as men are apt to be when surrounded by supernatural
influences, they do not perceive the cause of this apparently unnatural
illumination; and, upon turning round and round in irregular circles,
and still finding the light in the wrong place, they exhibit signs of
great trepidation.
"Warzemarrer wirra _light?_" repeats Mr. BUMSTEAD, spinning wildly until
he brings up against the wall.
"Ishgotb'witched, I b'lieve," pants Mr. McLAUGHLIN, whirling as
frenziedly with his own lantern dangling behind him, and coming to an
abrupt pause against the opposite wall.
Thus, each supported against the stones by a shoulder, they breathe hard
for a moment, and then sink into a slumber in which they both slide down
to the ground. Aroused by the shock, they sit up quite dazed, brush away
the swarming snakes and monkies, are freshly alarmed by discovering that
they are now actually sitting upon that perverse light behind them, and,
by a simultaneous impulse, begin crawling about in search of the ladder.
 Unable to see anything with all the light behind him, but fancying
that he discerns a gleam beyond a dark object near at hand, Mr. BUMSTEAD
rises to a standing attitude by a series of complex manoeuvres, and
plants a foot on something.
"I'morth'larrer!" he cries, spiritedly.
"Th'larrer's on me!" answers Mr. MCLAUGHLIN, in evidently great
bewilderment.
Then ensue a momentary wild struggle and muffled crash; for each
gentleman, coming blindly upon the other, has taken the light glimmering
at the other's back for the light at the top of the ladder, and, further
mistaking the other in the dark for the ladder itself, has attempted to
climb him. Mr. BUMSTEAD, however, has got the first step; whereupon, Mr.
MCLAUGHLIN, in resenting what he takes for the ladder's inexcusable
familiarity, has twisted both himself and his equally deluded companion
into a pretty hard fall.
Another interval of hard breathing, and then the organist of Saint Cow's
asks: "Di'you hear anything drop?"
"Yshir, th'larrer got throwed, f'rimpudence to a gen'l'm'n," is the
peevish return of OLD MORTARITY, who immediately falls asleep as he
lies, with his lantern under his spine.
In his sleep, he dreams that BUMSTEAD examines him closely, with a view
to gaining some clue to the mystery of the light behind both their
backs; and, on finding the lantern under him, and, studying it
profoundly for some time, is suddenly moved to feel along his own back.
He dreams that BUMSTEAD thereupon finds his own lantern, and exclaims,
after half an hour's analytical reflection, "It musht'ave slid round
while JOHN MCLAUGHLIN was intosh'cated." Then, or soon after, the
dreamer awakes, and can discern two Mr. BUMSTEADS seated upon the
step-ladders, with a lantern, baby-like, on each knee.
"You two men are awake at last, eh?" say the organists, with peculiar
"Yes, gentlemen," return the MCLAUGHLINS, with yawns.
They ascend silently from the cellar, each believing that he is
accompanied by two companions, and rendered moodily distrustful thereby.
    "Aina maina mona--Mike.
    Bassalone, bona--Strike!"
sings a small, familiar voice, when they stand again above ground, and a
stone whizzes between their heads.
In another moment BUMSTEAD has the fell SMALLEY by the collar, and is
shaking him like a yard of carpet.
"You wretched little tarrier!" he cries in a fury, "you've been spying
around to-night, to find out something about my Spiritualism that may be
distorted to injure my Ritualistic standing."
"I ain't done nothing; and you jest drop me, or I'll knock spots out of
yer!" carols the stony young child. "I jest come to have my aim at that
old Beat there."
"Attend to his case, then--his and his friend's, for he seems to have
some one with him--and never let me see you two boys again."
Thus Mr. BUMSTEAD, as he releases the excited lad, and turns from the
pauper burial-ground for a curious kind of pitching and running walk
homeward. The strange expedition is at an end:-but _which_ end he is
unable just then to decide.
(_To be Continued._)
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: CLERKS ALL AWAY ON A SATURDAY FROLIC, WHICH ACCOUNTS FOR
THE UNFORTUNATE POSITION OF THIS STOUT GENTLEMAN, WHO WAS LEFT ALONE TO
LOCK UP HIS STORE.]
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: PUNCHINELLO CORRESPONDENCE.]
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
_Johnny_.--Yes, you may offer your arm to your pretty cousin in the
country whenever you think she would like it, except when Mr.
PUNCHINELLO is present. If that gallant gentleman is at hand, escort
duty may, with perfect propriety, be left to him.
_Charles_ inquires whether his handwriting is good enough to qualify him
for membership in a base ball club. We think he is all right on that
_Glaucus._--We have never heard that Newport is a good place for
gathering sea-shells, but we presume you can shell out there if you
_Chapeau_.--Hats will be worn on the head this season. It is not
considered stylish to hang them on the ear, eyebrow, or coat collar.
_Cit._--The correct dimensions of a Saratoga pocket-book have not been
definitely decided. As to sending it, it is doubtful whether the
rail-road companies would receive it as baggage. Perhaps you could
charter a canal boat.
_Aspirant_.--We cannot tell you the price of "bored" in Washington "for
a few weeks." No doubt you could get liberally bored at a reasonable
_Sorosis_--It was very wrong for your husband to mention the muddy
coffee. However, we advise you to attempt a settlement of such troubles
without creating a public scandal.
_Butcher Boy_.--You cannot succeed as a writer of "lite comidy" if you
continue to weave such tragic spells. "The Lean Larder" would not be an
attractive title for your play.
_C. Drincarty_ submits the following problem: If one swallow don't make
a summer, how many claret punches can a man take before fall? Will some
of our ingenious readers offer a suitable solution?
_Culturist_.--The potato has been grafted with great success on the
cucumber tree in some of the Western States. The stock should be heated
by a slow fire until the sap starts. The grafts should be boiled in a
preparation known to science as vanilla cream.
_Truth_.--Your information is not authentic. LOUIS NAPOLEON never played
marbles in Central Park, nor took his little Nap in the vestibule of
WOOD'S Museum.
_Fanny_ inquires whether "ballot girls" are wanted in New York. Wyoming
is a better field for them than this city.
_Maine Chance_ has been paying his _devoirs_ with great impartiality to
two young ladies. One of them has red hair and a Roman nose, but the
paternal income is very handsome. The other is witty and pretty, but can
bring no rocks, except possibly "Rock the cradle." Recently he called on
the golden girl, and a menial rudely repulsed him from the door. This
hurt his feelings. He then went to the dwelling of the Fair, when a big
dog attacked him "on purpose," and lacerated his trousers. He wants to
know whether he has any remedy in the courts. His best way is the way
_Rifleman_.--You are right; the rival guns--the Dreyse and the
Chassepot--are also rifle-guns. Both of them are provided with needles,
as you suppose, but, so far as there is any chance of their being put to
the test under present circumstances, in Europe, it rather appears that
both of them will prove Needless.
_Piscator_.--No; the weak-fish is not so called on account of any
supposed feebleness attributable to it. If you take a round of the
markets one of these roaring hot days, your senses will tell you that
the weakfish is sometimes very strong.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.
As a good many persons know, LA GISELLE is a ballet whose hundred legs
are nightly displayed on the stage of the GRAND OPERA HOUSE.
The _Twelve Temptations_ have ceased to tempt, and the familiar legs of
LUPE no longer allure. But in their place we have KATHI LANNER, and
BERTHA LIND, and nearly a gross of assorted legs of the very best
Why do the women clamor for the ballot, when they have almost exclusive
possession of the ballet? The latter is much nicer and more useful than
the former. The average repeater can obtain only a dollar for his
ballot, but the average ballet will find any quantity of enthusiastic
admirers at one dollar and a half a head. Would any man pay KATHI LANNER
a dollar for the privilege of seeing her with a ballot in her hand?
On the other hand, lives there a man with eyes so dead that he would not
cheerfully pay twice that sum to see her in the mazes of the ballet?
But _La Giselle_? Certainly. I am coming to that in a moment. I have
often thought that nature must have intended me for a writer of sermons.
I have such a facility for beginning an article with a series of general
remarks that have nothing whatever to do with the subject.
Though how can any one be rationally expected to stick to anything in
this weather, except, perhaps, the newly varnished surface of his desk?
And how can even the firmest of resolutions be prevented from melting
and vanishing away, with the thermometer at more degrees than one likes
to mention? You remember the old proverb: "Man proposes, but his
mother-in-law finally disposes." The bearing of this observation lies in
its application.
By the bye, I don't know a better application, in the present weather,
than claret punch. Apply yourself continually to that cooling beverage,
and apply it continually to your lips, and the result is a sort of
reciprocity treat, whose results are much more certain than those of the
reciprocity treaty, of which Congress has latterly had so much to say.
To contemplate _La Giselle_ in all its bearings is a pleasure which is
peculiarly appropriate to the season. KATHI LANNER and her companions
may not be really cool, but they look as though they were. They remind
one of the East Indian country houses that are built on posts, so as to
allow a free circulation of air beneath the foundation. Anyhow, they
look as if they took things coolly.
(A joke might be made on the words coolly and Coolie. The reader may mix
to his own taste. It's too hot for any one to make jokes for other
But _La Giselle_? Yes! yes! I am just ready to speak of it. _La Giselle_
is a grand ballet in which an elaborate plot is developed by the toes of
some fifty young ladies. There is a young woman in it who loves a man,
and there is another woman who also loves him, and another man who loves
the first woman, and meddles and mars as though he were a professional
philanthropist.
The woman--the first woman, I mean--goes crazy down to the extremity of
her feet, and dies, and then there are more women,--no; these last are
disembodied spirits, with nothing but light skirts on,--who dance in
graveyards, and make young men dance with them till they fall down
exhausted, calling in vain for BROWN to take them home in carriages, and
pay for their torn gloves. The first young woman, and a young man--not
the other young man, you understand--does a good deal of--Well, in
fact, things are rather mixed before the ballet comes to an end, but I
know that it's a good thing, for FISK sits in his private box and
applauds it, which he wouldn't do if he didn't.
And now, having placed _La Giselle_ plainly before your mental vision, I
desire to rise to a personal explanation. For the ensuing four weeks,
the places, in PUNCHINELLO, which have heretofore known me, will
know me no more. I am going to a quiet country place on Long Island to
write war correspondence for the--well, I won't mention the name of the
paper. You see the editor of the _Na----_ of the paper in question, I
should say,--wants to have an independent and unprejudiced account of
the great struggle on the Rhine--something that shall be different from
any other account.--Down on Long Island, I shall be out of the reach of
either French or Prussian influence, and will be able to describe events
as they should be. I have made arrangements with the "Veteran Observer"
of the _Times_ to take charge of this column during my absence. If he
can only curb his natural tendency toward frivolity and jocoseness, I am
in hopes that he will be able to draw his salary as promptly and
efficiently as though he were a younger man. Remarking, therefore, in
the words of _Kathleen Mavourneen_, that my absence "may be four weeks,
and it may be longer," I bid my readers a warm (thermometer one hundred
and five degrees) farewell.
       *       *       *       *       *
JUPITER BELLICOSUS.
Truly, PUNCHINELLO, this is an age of progress. Wars of succession
are no more. Absolutism must forever hang its head. Fling a glance at
France; peer into Prussia, _Vox populi_ is the voice of the King, and
the voice of the king is therefore _vox Dei_. When a king speaks for his
people he must speak sooth; what he says of other peoples must be taken
with a grain of salt. Bearing this in mind, the apparent inconsistency
between the regal rigmarole and the Imperial improvisation (these
epithets are a tribute to the Republic) which I have received by our
_special wire_ from Europe were addressed by the monarchs to their
respective armies before the grand "wiring in" which is to follow.
WILHELM KOENIG VON PRUSSEN.
_Soldaten_: The Gaul is at our gates. _Vaterland_ is in danger: my
_weiss_ is then for war. France, led by a despot, is about to desecrate
the Rhine. His imperial bees are swarming, but we shall send him back
with his bees in his bonnet, and a bee's mark (BISMARCK) on the end of
his nasal organ. France wars for conquest; Prussia never. When FREDERICK
the Great captured Silesia from a Roman without any apparent pretext,
was he not an instrument of Providence? When, in company with Austria,
we beat and bullied Denmark out of Schleswig-Holstein, were we not
victorious, and is not that sufficient justification? When we afterwards
beat this Austria, did it not serve her right? And when we absorbed
Hanover, &c., was it not to protect them? Yes, our present object is the
defence of our country and the capture of Alsace and Lorraine, which
mere politeness prevented us from claiming hitherto. On, then, soldiers
of Deutchland. Let our _law reign_ in Lorraine, for what is sauce for
the Prussian goose should be Alsace for the Gallic gander. The God of
battles is on the side of our just cause; Leipsic is looking at us,
Waterloo is watching us. GOTT _und_ WILHELM, _sauerkraut und schnapps.
NAPOLEON, EMPEREUR DES FRANCAIS.
_Soldats:_ True to your trust in me, I am about to lead you to
slaughter. _L'Empire c'est la paix_. Prussia would place a poor and
distant relative of mine on the throne of Spain, therefore must we
recover the natural frontier of France, which lies upon the Rhine. The
rhino is ready, and we are ready for the Rhine. Let my red republican
subjects recall Valmy and Jemappes, and their generals KELLERMANN and
DUMAURIOZ. Let every Frenchman kill a Prussian, every woman too _kill
her man_. They did much for _la patrie_ in those days, but do _more ye
to-day_. France wars for ideas only; Prussia for rapine. We have heard
this Rhine-whine long enough; it has got into our heads at last.
The spirit of my uncle has its eye upon you. Ambition was no part of his
nature. His struggles were all for the good of France, "which he loved
so much," as he himself said at his country-seat at St. Helena. Marshal,
then, to the notes of the _Marseillaise_, which I now generously permit
you to sing.
The Gallic rooster shall "cackle, cackle, clap his wings and crow,"
_Unter der Linden_. Jena judges us, Auerstedt is _our status_. The Man
of Destiny and December calls you. The God of armies (who marches with
the strongest battalions) is with us.
_La gloire et des Grenouilles_, France and fried potatoes. _L'Empire et
moi et le prince Imperial. En avant marche!_
       *       *       *       *       *
A District that ought to be subject to Earthquakes.
Rockland County.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE CELESTIAL SCARECROW IN MASSACHUSETTS.
IT CONSISTS OF A CHINESE GONG AND A LOT OF PUPPETS WORKED BY THE HANDS OF
CAPITAL; AND SOME PERSONS THINK IT A GOOD JOKE.]
       *       *       *       *       *
THE VULTURE'S CALL.
          Come--sisters--come!
      The din of arms is rising from the vale,
        Bright arms are glittering in the morning sun
      And trumpet tones are ringing in the gale!
          Hurrah-hurrah!
          As fast and far
      We hurry to behold the blithesome game of War!
          Haste--sisters--haste!
      The drums are booming, shrill fifes whistling clear,
        The scent of human blood is in the blast,
      And the load cannon stuns the startled ear.
          Away--away!
          To view the fray,
      For us a feast is spread when Man goes forth to slay.
          Rest--sisters--rest!
      Here on these blasted pines; and mark beneath
        How war's red whirlwind shakes earth's crazy breast
      And cumbers it with agony and death.
          Toil, soldiers, toil,
          Through war's turmoil,
      We Vultures gain the prize--we Vultures share the spoil.
       *       *       *       *       *
Not Generally Known.
The new three cent stamp smacks of the Revolution; containing, as it
does, the portraits of two military heroes of that period. General
WASHINGTON will be recognized at once, while in the background can be
discerned that brilliant officer--General GREEN.
       *       *       *       *       *
Our Future Millionaires.
Once let the Celestials get our American way of doing business, and
there will be plenty of China ASTORS among us.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE POEMS OF THE CRADLE.
      "Hey! Diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle
        The cow jumped over the moon.
      The little dog laughed to see the sport,
        And the dish ran after the spoon."
These were the classic expressions of the hilarious poet of a period far
back in the vista of ages. How vividly they portray the exalted state of
his mind; and how impressed the public must have been at the time; for
did not the words become popular immediately, and have they not so
continued to the present day?
Every mother immediately seized upon the verse, and, setting it to music
of her own, sang it as a cradle song to soothe the troubles of
infanthood, and repeated it in great glee to the intelligent babe when
in a crowing mood, as the poem most fitted for the infant's brain to
Papa, anxious to watch the unfolding of the human mind, and its gradual
development, would take the baby-prodigy in his arms, and with keen
glance directed upon its face, repeat, in thrilling tones, the sublime
words. With what joy would he remark and comment upon any gleam of
intelligence, and again and again would he recite, in an impressive
voice, those words so calculated to aid in bringing into blossom the bud
But who can meditate upon the memorable stanzas, and not see, in fancy,
the enthusiastic youth--the lover of melody and of nature--as he enters
his dingy room, the ordinary abiding place of poetical geniuses. He
sees his beloved fiddle, and his no less beloved feline friend, in
loving conjunction; he bursts out rapturously with impetuous joy:
      "Hey! diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle!"
He sees the two things dearest to his heart, and sees them both at one
time! And he must be excused for his sudden night into the regions of
No wonder that he immediately imagines the world to be as full of joy as
he himself, and that he thinks
       "The cow jumped over the moon."
Perhaps the sight was a sufficient re-moon-eration to him for his past
troubles; and the exhilaration of his spirits caused him to dance, to
cut pigeon-wings, and otherwise gaily disport himself; consequently,
       "The little dog laughed to see the sport,"
which every intelligent dog would have done, under the circumstances.
Certainly, dear reader, you would have done so yourself.
The hilariousness of the poet increasing, and his joyfulness expanding,
his manifestations did not confine themselves to simple dancing-steps
and an occasional pigeon-wing, but, inadvertently perhaps, he introduced
the "can-can," and that explains why
       "The dish ran away with the spoon."
For the end of his excited toe came in contact with his only dish and
spoon, and propelled them to the other side of the room. As he does not
tell us whether the dish remained whole after its escapade, we must
conclude that it was broken, and that the dreadful accident caused,
immediately, a damp to descend upon his effervescent spirits.
In what better way could he give vent to his feelings than in
descriptive verse? He could not shed his tears upon the paper and hand
them around for inspection, or write a melancholy sonnet on the frailty
of crockery, as a relief to his mind. No! he chose the course best
fitted to command public attention, as the result proved. He told his
tale--its cause and effect--in as few words as possible. Fortunate if
other poets would only do the same!
       *       *       *       *       *
An Ornithological Con.
What bird does General PRIM most resemble?
A Kingfisher.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: NOTES ON THE FERRY.
MR. CARAMEL, WHO IS OBSERVANT, CONTEMPLATIVE, AND GIVEN TO COMPARISON,
ARRIVES AT THE CONCLUSION THAT SOME WOMEN ARE NICER THAN OTHERS.]
       *       *       *       *       *
THE MISERIES OF A HANDSOME MAN.
Ever since my earliest recollections I have been a victim to
circumstances.
Beauty, which others desire and try every means to obtain, to me has
been a source of untold misery. From my infancy, when ugly women with
horrid breaths would stop my nurse in the streets and insist upon
kissing me--through my school-days, when the girls would pet me and
offer me a share of their nuts and candies, and the boys laugh at me in
consequence, and call me "gal-boy," squirt ink upon my face for
beauty-spots, and present me with curl-papers and flowers for my
hair--until the present, when I am denied introductions to young ladies
and am put off on old women--I have suffered for my looks.
In my boarding-house I am shunned as if I had the plague. When I enter
the parlor or dining-room, I see the ladies look at each other with a
knowing air, as much as to say, "Look at him!" And the answer is
telegraphed back, "Ain't he handsome? but he knows it," as if I could
help knowing it with every one telling me so fifty times a day; and
husbands pay unusual attention to their wives when I am around, as if I
were an ogre.
I am naturally a modest man, made more so by my extreme sensitiveness to
personal criticism; and to be obliged to stand apparently unconscious,
when I know I am being looked at and commented upon, is harrowing to my
feelings. I feel sometimes as if I should drop down on the floor, but
then folks would never stop laughing if I did, at what they would be
pleased to term my extreme ladylikeness! I have actually prayed that I
might get the small-pox, and once walked through the small-pox hospital
for that purpose, but escaped unharmed.
I suppose I must have been vaccinated. In fact, I know I have been, for
how often have I looked at the scar on my arm, and wished it had been on
my cheek, or at the end of my nose, or, in fact, on any place where it
might be considered a blemish.
When I was a child I came near killing myself one night by going to bed
with two large bottle-corks thrust into my nostrils, to make them large,
like other boys'; and have made my mouth sore by stretching it with my
fingers, or forcing melon-rinds into it, to enlarge it. But it was
useless; perhaps the mouth might be sore for a couple of days, but its
shape remained unaltered.
Now that I am a man, I am as unfortunate as ever. My hair _will_ curl,
even when shaved within half-an-inch of the scalp; my moustache will
stay jet-black, although I sometimes wax the ends of it with soap, and
walk on the sunny side of Broadway; my teeth are perfect, and I never
need a dentist; and my hands are shameful for a man,--so all my
old-maid-aunts and bachelor-uncles say.
My affections have been trifled with several times, "because," as they
said, "when they had drawn me to the proposing point, I was too handsome
to be good for anything as a husband--I did very well for a beau."
Goodness! is it only ugly men that can marry? I want to marry and settle
down; for I am so slighted in society that I look with envy upon homely
or mis-shapen men.
But who will have me? I put it to you, my friend, if it isn't a hard
case. I want an intelligent and agreeable wife, and one that comes of a
respectable family. I don't think I am asking too much, but it seems
fate has determined such a one I can never have! I have either to remain
single, or take one that is "ignorant and vulgar." That, of course,
would be as much remarked upon as my appearance, so it cannot be thought
I want to escape observation and criticism. I think strongly of
emigrating to the Rocky Mountains, donning a rough garb, and digging for
gold, in the hope of getting round-shouldered; or hiring myself out as a
wood-chopper, in anticipation of a chip flying up and taking off part of
my obnoxious nose.
If there were no women around, I might escape notice out there. But if
one happened to come along, I should be obliged to leave, for her eyes
would ferret out my unfortunate peculiarities, and all my wounds would
be opened afresh. Sometimes I think there is no spot on the globe where
I would be welcomed; and I feel inclined to commit some desperate deed,
that I may be arrested and confined out of the sight of man and
woman-kind, until I am aged and bent enough to be presentable.
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
Passing down Chatham street the other day, PUNCHINELLO stopped in front
of a window where hung a highly-colored engraving of an Austrian
sovereign engaged in the Easter ceremony of washing the feet of twelve
old men and women.
An Irishman at our side, who had been puzzling some time to comprehend
the problem thus submitted to him, finally broke out:
"An' may I ax ye, misther, to be koind enough to exshplain phat in the
wurruld that owld roosther's doin'?" pointing to the figure of the
kneeling monarch.
"He is washing the feet of the ladies and gentlemen," mildly put in
PUNCHINELLO.
"Bedad," says PAT, "don't I see that for meself; but phatis he doin' it
"It is a ceremony of the Catholic Church," PUNCHINELLO explained,
"typical of the washing of the feet of the Twelve Apostles."
PAT eyed PUNCHINELLO askance with an expression which plainly enough
said that he did not believe we had been reared to tell the truth
strictly upon all occasions, and then added:
"Bad cess to your manners, then, don't I know betther nor that; for
haven't I been in the church these forty years, and sorrow a sowl ever
washed _me_ feet!"
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE SITUATION IN EUROPE.
  INTO "BIZ" LOUIS NAP HE IS GOING,
  TO PAY OFF THE DEBTS THAT HE'S OWING;
  DETERMINED THAT HE WILL MAKE _his_ MARK,
  BY TAKING THE CHANGE OUT OF BISMARCK.]
       *       *       *       *       *
FROM AN ANXIOUS MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER.
[Who is at a Watering Place.]
NEW YORK, July 12, 1870.
MY DEAR DAUGHTER: How are you getting on, dear? Well, I hope, for you
know I _do_ want to get you off, desperately. Thirty-seven, and still on
my hands! Mr. GUSHER, of the Four-hundred-and-thirty-ninth Avenue, goes
down next Saturday. He will hunt you up. Mr. GUSHER is a nice man--so
sympathetic and kind; and has such a lovely moustache. Besides, my dear
SOPHY, he has oceans of stamps. Quite true, my child, he hasn't much of
anything else, but girls at thirty-seven must not have too sharp eyes,
nor see too much. Do, dear, try and fix him if you can. Put all your
little artifices into effect. Walk, if possible, by moonlight, and
alone; that is, with him. Talk, as you know you can, of the sweets of
love and the delights of home. Dwell on the felicities of love in a
cottage, and if he doesn't see it, dilate on the article in a
brown-stone front, with marble steps. Picture to him in the most glowing
terms the joys of the fireside, with fond you by his side. If he hints
that a fireside in July is slightly tepid, thoughtfully suggest that it
is merely a figure of speech, and introduce an episode of cream to cool
it. Quote vehemently from TENNYSON, and LONGFELLOW, and Mrs. BROWNING.
Bring the artillery of your eyes to bear squarely on the mark. Remember
that thirty-seven years and an anxious mother are steadily looking down
Cut SMIRCH. SMIRCH is a worthless fellow. Would you believe it? his
father makes boot-pegs for a living. The house of WIGGINS cannot consort
with the son of one who pegs along in life in this manner! Never. Banish
SMIRCH. Don't let SMIRCH even look at your footprints on the beach.
Then there is Mr. BLUSTER. What is he? Who? Impertinent puppy! Pretended
to own a corner-house on the Twenty-fifth Avenue, and wanted to know how
_I_ should like it? Like it? I should like to see him in Sing-Sing! _He_
own a house?--a brass foundry more like, and that in his face! Keep a
sharp eye on BLUSTER and his blarney. He's what our neighbor GINGER
calls a "beat," whatever that is--a squash, no doubt.
Don't spare any pains, my dear, for a market. I was only twenty-six when
I married the late lamented Mr. WIGGINS. And a dear good man he
was--only I wish he had paid his bills at the corner groceries. How he
_did_ love, my dear--that favorite demijohn in the corner! And then when
he came home at night with such a smile--he'd been taking them all day.
Don't fail to catch somebody. GUSHER, depend, is the man. Money is
everything. Never mind what he hasn't got just under the hat. It is the
pocket you must aim at. What is life and society--what New York--without
money? Say you love him to distraction. Declare your existence is bound
up in his. (Greenback binding.) Throw yourself at his feet at the
opportune moment, and victory must be yours. Impale him at all hazards.
Remember you are thirty-seven and well on in life. Your own loving
MARIA ANASTASIA WIGGINS.
       *       *       *       *       *
An Old Story with a Modern Application.
      Like rifts of sunshine, her tresses
        Waved over her shoulders bare,
      And she flitted as light o'er the meadows,
        As an angel in the air.
      "O maid of the country, rest thee
        This village pump beside,
      And here thou shalt fill thy pitcher,
        Like REBECCA, the well beside!"
      But a voice from yonder window
        Through my shuddering senses ran,
      And these were its words: "MARIA-R!
        MA-RIA-R! don't-mind-that-man!"
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: LUCIFERS LITTLE GAME WITH HIS ROYAL PUPPETS.]
       *       *       *       *       *
HIRAM GREEN'S EXPERIENCE AS AN EDITOR.
Lively Times in the Editorial Sanctum.--The "Lait Gustise" handled
"Whooray! Whooray!" I exclaimed, rushin' into the kitchen door, one
mornin' last spring, and addressin' Mrs. GREEN. "I've been invited to
edit the _Skeensboro Fish Horn_. Fame, madam, awaits your talented
"Talented Lunkhead, you mean," said this interestin' femail; "you'd look
sweet editin' a noose paper. So would H. WARD BEECHER dancin' 'shoo-fly'
along with DAN BRYANT. Don't make a fool of yourself if you know
anything, HIRAM, and respect your family."
The above conversation was the prelude to my first and last experience
in editin' a country paper.
The editor of the "Fish Horn" went on a pleasure trip, to plant a rich
ant who had died and left him some cash.
Durin' his absence I run his paper for him. Seatin' my form on top of the
nail keg, with shears and paste brush I prepared to show this ere
community how to run a noosepaper.
I writ the follerin' little squibs and put 'em in my first issue.
"If a sertin lite complexion man wouldn't run his hands down into sugar
barrels so often, when visitin' grosery stores, it would be money in the
pocket of the Skeensboro merchants"--
"Query. Wonder how a farmer in this town, whose name we will not rite,
likes burnin' wood from his nabor's wood-pile?"--
"We would advise a sertin toothles old made to leave off paintin' her
cheeks, and stop slanderin' her nabors. If she does so, she will be a
more interestin' femail to have around."--
"Stop Thief.--If that Deekin, who trades at one of our grocery stores,
and helps himself to ten cents worth of tobacker while buyin' one cents
worth of pipes, will devide up his custom, it would be doing the square
thing by the man who has kept him in tobacker for several years."
These articles was like the bustin' of a lot of bombshells in this
usually quiet boro.
The Deekins called a church meetin', and played a game of old sledge, to
see who would call and demand satisfaction for the insult. As they all
smoked, they couldn't tell who was hit, as their tobacker bill was small
Deekin PERKINS got beat when they come to "saw off."
Said this pious man:
"If old GREEN don't chaw his words, I'll bust his gizzard."
The farmers met at SIMMINSES store. After tryin' on the garment about
steelin' wood, it was hard to decide who the coat fit the best, but each
one made up his mind to pay off an old grudge and "pitch into the Lait
All the old mades met together in the village milliner shop, where the
Sore-eye-siss society held meetin's once a week, and their false teeth
trembled like a rattlesnake's tail, when they read my artickle about old
It was finally resolved by this anshient lot of caliker to "stir up old
Headed by SARY YOUMANS, the crossest old made in the U.S., and all armed
with broom-sticks and darnin'-needles, the door of my editorial offis
was busted open, and the whole caboodle of wimmen, famishin' for my top
hair, entered.
They foamed at the mouth like a pack of dissappinted Orpheus--C--Kerrs,
as they brandished their wepins over my bald head.
"Squire GREEN," sed a maskaline lookin' specimen of time worn caliker,
holdin' a copy of the _Fish Horn_ in her bony fingers, "did you rite
"Wall," sed I, feelin' somewhat riled at the sassy crowd, "s'posen I did
or didn't, what on it?"
"We are goin' to visit the wrath of a down-trodden rase upon your
frontispiece, that's what we is, d'ye hear, old Pilgarlick?" said the
exasperated 16th Amendmenter, as she brought down her gingham umbrella
over my shoulders.
At this they all rushed for me. With paste-brush and shears I kept them
off, until somebody pushed me over a woman who had got tripped up, when
the army of infuriated Amazons piled onto my aged form.
This round dident last more'n two minutes, for as soon as they got me
down, they all stuck their confounded needles into me, and then left me
lookin' more like a porkupine than a human bein'.
I hadent more'n had time to pull out a few quarts of needles, before in
walks 2 big strappin' farmers.
"Old man, we've come for you," said one of 'em. "We'll larn you to
slander honest fokes."
At this he let fly his rite bute at my cote skirts.
I was home-sick, you can jest bet. Then t'other chap let me have it.
"Down stairs with him," sed they both, and down I went, pooty lively for
Just as I got to the bottom I lit on a man's head. It was Deekin PERKINS
comein' to "bust my gizzard."
"Hevings and airth," sed the Deekin as he tumbled over in the entry way.
I jumped behind a door, emejutly, and as the farmers proceeded to polish
off the Deekin, I was willin' to forgive both of 'em, as the Deekin
groaned and yelled.
Yes siree! it was soothin' fun for me, to see them farmers welt the
Steelin' up stairs agin, I was brushin' off my clothes, when in walks
"Sawtel," said he, ceasin' me by the cote coller and shakin' me, "Ile
larn you to rite about steelin' sugar; take that--and that," at which he
let fly his bute, and down stairs I went agin--Eben urgin' me on with
Suffice to say, the whole village called on me that day, and I was
kicked down stairs 32 times by the watch.--Hosswhipt by 17
wimmen--besides bein' stuck full of needles by a lot more.
I got so used to bein' kicked down stairs, that evry time a man come in
the door, I would place my back towards him and sing out:
"Kick away, my friend, I'm in the Editorial biziness to-day--to-morrow I
go hents--there's rather too much exsitement runnin' a noosepaper, and I
shall resine this evenin."
When I got home that nite, I looked like an angel carryin' a palm-leaf
fan in his hand, and clothed in purple and fine linen. My body was
purpler than a huckleberry pie, and my linen was torn into pieces finer
than a postage-stamp.
"Sarved you rite, you old fool," said Mrs. GREEN, as she stood rubbin'
camfire onto me. "In ritin' noosepaper articles, editors orter name
their man. A shoe which hain't bilt for anybody in particular, will get
onto evrybody in general's foot. When it does, the bilder had better get
ready for numerous bootin's, from that self-same shoe."
Between you and I, PUNCHINELLO, MARIAH is about 1/2 rite. Too-rally
HIRAM: GREEN, ESQ.,
_Lait Gustise of the Peece._
       *       *       *       *       *
COMIC ZOOLOGY
Order, Cetacea.--The Right (and wrong) Whale.
The largest of the Cetacea is the Right whale, of which--so persistently
is it hunted down--there will soon be but few Left. Some flippant jokist
has remarked that there is no Wrong whale, but this is all Oily Gammon.
There is a right and a wrong to everything--not excepting the leviathan
of the deep.
By the courtesy of the Fisheries, the planting of a harpoon in the
vitals of a Right whale gives the planter a pre-emption claim to it. If
subsequently appropriated by another party it becomes, so far as that
party is concerned, the Wrong whale, and on Trying the case its value
may be recovered in a court of law,--with Whaling costs.
The sperm whale, or cachalot, (genus _physeter_) is a rare visitor in
the higher latitudes. Now and then a solitary specimen is taken in the
Northern Atlantic, but the best place to catch a lot is on the Pacific
coast. It may be mentioned incidentally, as a curious meteorological
coincidence, that Whales and Waterspouts are invariably seen together,
and hence it was, (perhaps,) that the long-necked cloud pointed out by
HAMLET to POLONIUS, reminded that old Grampus of a Whale.
The favorite food of the great marine mammal of the Pacific is the
Squid, and as this little creature swarms in the vicinity of Hawaii, the
cachalot instinctively goes there at certain seasons to chew its Squid
by way of a Sandwich.
Although the capture of the whale involves an immense amount of Paying
Out before anything can be realized, it has probably always been a
lucrative pursuit. The great fish seems, however, to have yielded the
greatest Prophet in the days of JONAH. No man since then has enjoyed the
same facilities for forming a true estimate of the value of the monster,
that were vouchsafed to that singular man. Perhaps during his visit to
Nineveh he entertained the Ninnies with a learned lecture on the
subject, but if so, it has not turned up to reward the research of
modern Archaeologists. LAYARD found the word JONAH inscribed among the
ruins of the old Assyrian city, but the name of the ancient mariner was
unaccompanied by any mention of the whale.
All the whale family, though apparently phlegmatic, are somewhat given
to Blowing up, and, when about to die, instead of taking the matter
coolly and philosophically, they are always terribly Flurried. In fact,
the whale, when in _articulo mortis_, makes a more tremendous rumpus
about its latter end than any other animal either of the sea or land.
The Right whale, though many people make Light of it, is unquestionably
the heaviest of living creatures. Scales never contained anything so
ponderous. But while conceding to Leviathan the proud title of Monarch
of the Deep, it should be remarked that it has a rival on the land,
known as Old King Coal, that completely takes the Shine out of it.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE WATERING PLACES.
Punchinello's Vacations.
At Newport, one cannot fail to perceive a certain atmosphere of blue
blood--but it must not be understood, from this expression, that the air
is filled with cerulean gore. Mr. P. merely wished to remark that the
society at that watering place is very aristocratic. He felt the
influence himself, although he staid there only a few days. His
aristocratic impulses all came out. Whether they staid out or not
remains to be seen.
But no matter. He found many of the best people in Newport, and he felt
congenial. When a fellow sits at his wine with men like JOHN T. HOFFMAN,
and AUGUST BELMONT, and PARAN STEVENS; and takes the air with Mrs. J.F.,
Jr., behind her delightful four-in-hand, he is apt to feel a little
"uppish." If anyone doubts it let him try it. At the Atlantic Hotel they
gave Mr. P. the room which had been recently vacated by Gov. PADELFORD.
He was glad to hear this. He liked the room a great deal better when he
heard that the Governor wasn't there any more.
The first walk that he took on the beach proved to him that this was no
place for illiterate snobs and shoddyites. Everybody talked of high
moral aims, or questions of deep import, (especially the high tariff
Congressmen,) and even the little girls who were sitting in the shade,
(with big white umbrellas over them to keep the freckles off,) were
puzzling their heads over charades and enigmas, instead of running
around and making little Frou-Frous of themselves. Mr. P. composed an
enigma for a group of these young students. Said he:
    "My first is a useless expense.
    My second is a useless expense.
    My third is a useless expense.
    My fourth is a useless expense.
    My fifth is a useless expense.
    My sixth is a useless expense,
    and so is my eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh, and all the rest
    of my parts, of which there are three hundred and fifty.
    My whole is a useless expense, and sits at Washington."
The dear little girls were not long in guessing this ingenious enigma
and while they were rejoicing over their success, Mr. P. was suddenly
addressed by a man who had been standing behind him. Starting
little, he turned around and was thus addressed by his unknown
"Sir," said that individual, "do I understand you to mean that the
Congress of the United States is a useless expense?"
"Well, sir," said Mr. P., with a smile, "as it costs a great deal and
does very little, I cannot but think it is both useless and expensive."
"Then sir," said the other, "you must think the whole institution is a
nuisance generally."
"You put it very strongly," said Mr. P., "but I fear that you are about
"Sir!" cried the gentleman, his face beaming with an indescribable
expression. "Give me your hand! I am glad to know you. I agree with you
exactly. My name is WHITTEMORE."
But Mr. P. did not waste all his time in talking to strangers and
concocting enigmas. He had come to Newport with a purpose. It was none
of the ordinary purposes of watering place visitors. These he could
carry out elsewhere.
His object in coming here was grand, unusual and romantic. _He came to
be rescued by IDA LEWIS!_
It was not easy to devise a plan for this noble design, and it was not
until the morning of the second day of his visit, that Mr. P. was ready
for the adventure. Then he hired a boat, and set sail, alone, o'er the
boundless bosom of the Atlantic.
He had not sailed more than a few hours on said boundless bosom, before
he turned his prow back towards land,--towards the far-famed Lime Rocks,
on which the intrepid heroine dwells. He had thought of being wrecked at
night, but fearing that IDA might not be able to find him in the dark,
he gave up this idea. His present intention was that Miss LEWIS should
believe him to be a lonely mariner from a far distance, tossed by the
angry waves upon her rock-bound coast But there was a certain difficulty
in the way, which Mr. P. feared would prove fatal to his hopes.
The sea was just as smooth as glass!
And the wind all died away!
There was not enough left to ruffle a squirrel's tail. How absurd the
situation! How could he ever be dashed helpless upon the rocks under
such circumstances?
The tide was setting in, and as he gradually drifted towards the land,
he saw the storied rocks, and even perceived Miss IDA, sitting upon a
shady prominence, crocheting a tidy.
What should he do to attract her attention? How put himself in imminent
peril? His anxiety for a time was dreadful, but he thought of a plan. He
got out his knife and whittled the mast half through.
"Now," thought he, "if my mast and rigging go by the board, she will
surely come and rescue me!"
But the mast and rigging were as obstinate as outside speculators in
Wall street,--they would not go by the board,--and Mr. P. was obliged at
last to break down the mast by main force. But the lady heard not the
awful crash, and little weened that a fellow-being was out alone on the
wild watery waste, in a shipwrecked bark! After waiting for some time,
that she might ween this terrible truth, Mr. P, concluded that there was
nothing to do but to spring a leak.
But he found this difficult. Kick as hard as he might, he could not
loosen a bottom board. And he had no auger! The Lime Rocks were getting
nearer and nearer. Would he drift safely ashore?
"Oh! how can I wreck myself, 'ere it be too late?" he cried, in the
agony of his heart. Wild with apprehensions of reaching the land without
danger, he sat down and madly whittled a hole in the bottom of the boat,
making it, as nearly as possible, such a one as a sword fish would be
likely to cut. When he got it done, the water bubbled through it like an
oil-well. In fact, Mr. P. was afraid that his vessel would fill up
before he was near enough for the maiden on the rocks to hear his
heart-rending cries for succor. He could see her plainly now. 'Twas
certainly she. He knew her by her photograph--("Twenty-five cents, sir.
The American female GRACE DARLING, sir. Likeness warranted, sir.")
But she turned not towards him. Confound it! Would she finish that
eternal tidy ere she glanced around?
The boat was almost full now. It would sink before she saw it! That hole
must be stopped until he had drifted near enough to give vent to an
agonizing cry for help.
Having nothing else convenient, Mr. P. clapped into the hole a lot of
manuscripts which he had brought with him for consideration.
(Correspondents who may experience apparent neglect will please take
notice. It is presumed, of course, that every one who writes anything
worth reading, will keep a copy of it.)
Now the rocks were comparatively near, and standing up to his knees in
water, Mr. P. gave the appropriate heart-rending cry for succor. But in
spite of the prevailing calm, he perceived that there was a surf upon
the rocks, and a noise of many waters. At the top of his voice Mr. P.
again shouted.
"Hello, IDA!"
But he soon found that he would have to hello longer as well as hello
IDA, and he did it.
At last she heard him.
Dropping her work-basket, she ran to the edge of the rock, and making a
trumpet of her hands, called out:
"Ahoy there! What's up?"
"Me!" answered Mr. P., "but I won't be up very long. Haste to my
assistance, oh maiden! ere I sink!"
Then she shouted again:
"I've got no boat! It's over to MCCURDY's, getting caulked!"
Then indeed did Mr. P. turn pale, and his knees did tremble.
But IDA was not to be daunted. Bounding like a chamois o'er the rocks,
to her house, she quickly returned with a long coil of rope, and
instantly hurled it over the curling breakers with such a strong arm and
true aim, that one end of it struck Mr. P. in the face with a crack like
that of a giant's whip.
He grasped the rope, and that instant his boat sank like a rock!
IDA hauled away like a steam-engine, and Mr. P.'s prow (his nose, you
know,) cut through the water like a knife, in a straight line for the
shore. In front of him he saw a great mass of sharp roots. He shuddered,
but over them he went. On, on, he went, nor turned aside for jagged
cleft or sharp-edged stone. A ship, loaded with queensware, had been
wrecked near shore, and through a vast mass of broken plates, and cups,
and saucers, Mr. P. went,--straight and swift as an arrow.
At last, wet, bleeding, ragged, scratched, and feint, he reached the
shore. Said IDA, as she supported him towards her dwelling: "How did you
ever come to be wrecked on such a day as this?"
Mr. P. hesitated. But with such a noble creature, the truth would surely
be the best. He told her all.
"Oh!" said he. "Dear girl, 'twas I, myself, who hewed down my mast and
scuttled my fair bark. And I did it, maiden fair! that thy brave arm
might rescue me from the watery deep, (you know what a good thing it
would be for both of us when it got in the papers,) and that on thy
hardy bosom I might be borne--"
"Born jackass!" interrupted IDA. "I believe that everybody who comes to
Newport make fools of themselves about me; but you are certainly the
Champion Fool of the Lime Rocks."
Mr. P. couldn't deny it.
       *       *       *       *       *
Alphabetical.
From the insult passed upon Count BENDETTI, at Ems, it appears that the
Prussian government does not always mind its P's and Q's.
       *       *       *       *       *
A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME.
A Love Tale.
"I won't do it--there!"
Miss ANGELINA VAVASOUR sat her little fat body down in a chair, slapped
her little fat hands upon her little fat knees, swelled her little fat
person until she looked like a big gooseberry just ready to burst, and
then turned her little fat red face up to Mr. JOHN SMITH, who was
standing before her.
"I regret," said Mr. J.S., "that you should refuse to be Mrs. JOHN
SMITH." (ANGELINA shuddered.) "Might I ask you why?"
"No," said she. "Say, my age."
"But I don't object to that," said J.S.
"Well, I won't," said ANGELINA, "that's all!"
J.S. rubbed the fur on his hat the wrong way, pulled up his shirt
collar, looked mournfully at the idol of his heart, and departed.
Why did she refuse him? Listen!
About a thousand or two years ago--well, perhaps we had better not go so
far back--anyhow, Miss VAVASOUR had ancestors, and she was proud of
them; she had a name, and she gloried in it; she had $100,000, and
therefore insisted on keeping her aristocratic name; she had kept it for
forty years, and was willing to take a contract for the rest of the job,
though she did feel that she needed a man to slide down the hill of time
with her, and she was rather fond of SMITH.
Mr. JOHN SMITH wanted to marry her for herself alone, though he had made
inquiries and knew all about that $100,000.
Thus it was.
"That's all!" Miss VAVASOUR had said.
But was it all? She thought it was matrimony; J.S. thought it was matter
o' money, and J.S. had a long head--an awfully long head.
Mr. JOHN SMITH sat before the grate. His auburn locks, his Roman nose,
his little grey eyes, his thin lips, his big ears, and each particular
hair of his red whiskers, expressed intense disgust.
He was day-dreaming, seeing visions in the fire. There he saw Miss
ANGELINA VAVASOUR. Her eyes were ten dollar gold pieces, her nose a
little pile of ducats, each cheek seemed swelled out by large quantities
of dollars, every tooth in her head was a double-eagle, and her hair was
a mass of ingots. He heaved a sigh and took a fresh chew.
The tobacco seemed to refresh him; he walked the floor for a while, and
then sat in his chair. Suddenly his countenance was irradiated, like a
ripening squash at early morn, and he sprang to his feet, crying out,
"Eureka! I'll do it."
Eureka! How? What? Thus.
One month afterwards our hero presented himself at the house of Miss
VAVASOUR, carrying under his arm a large volume, bound in calf.
"Miss VAVASOUR," said he, "I come to repeat my proposition to you. Will
you reconsider?"
"Sir?" said she.
"Things have changed," said our hero.
"Changed!" echoed she. "What do you mean, Mr. JOHN SMITH?"
"Call me not by that vile cognomen," quoth he. "Look!" and he opened the
Session Laws at page 1004.
"STATE OF NEW YORK, COUNTY OF BLANK.
I, JONATHAN JERUSALEM, Clerk of said County, do hereby certify that the
following change of name has been made by the County Court of this
County, viz.:
JOHN SMITH to AUGUSTUS VAVASOUR.
In testimony whereof, I have set my hand and the seal of the County,
June 3d, 1870. JONATHAN JERUSALEM, _Clerk_." [L.S.]
She fell into his arms, and rested her palpitating head upon his
palpitating bosom. He pulled up his shirt-collar, trod on the cat, and
gently whispered, "$100,000."
A word to the wise. Go and do like-wise. LOT.
       *       *       *       *       *
The following is from a Western paper:
"At Council Buffs, Iowa, a woman who don't chew gum is out of style, and
gets the cold shoulder."
Our comment upon the above is that there must be very little gumshun
among the women of Council Bluffs.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: "SUCH IS LIFE."
Here you see Tom, Dick, and Harry, as they looked when starting
in the morning for a day's fishing.
And this is the same party, dejected, bedraggled, and foot-sore
wearily making their way homeward after their day's "sport."]
       *       *       *       *       *
DOWN THE BAY.
Mr. Punchinello: It is just possible that you never went on a fine
fishing excursion down the Bay with a party of nice young men. If you
never did, don't. I confess it sounds well on paper. But it's a Deceit,
a Snare, and a Hollow Mockery. I will narrate.
Some days ago I was induced (the Deuce is in it if I ever am again) to
participate in a supposed festivity of this nature. In the first place,
we (the excursionists,) chartered a yacht, two Hands that knew the
Ropes--they looked as if they might have been acquainted with the Rope's
End--and a small Octoroon of the male persuasion as waiter. As CHOWLES
characteristically observed, (he is a Stock Broker, and was one of the
party,) "there is nothing like a feeling of Security." So we engaged a
Skipper who was perfectly familiar with the BARINGS of the Banks, and
Thoroughly Posted on all Sea 'Changes, at least so CHOWLES expressed it,
but then he is apt to be somewhat technical at times. This accomplished
mariner was reputed to have been "Round the Horn" several times, which I
am led to believe was perfectly true, as he smelt strongly of spirits
when he came on board. I was much discouraged at the appearance of this
Skipper, and had half a mind to give my friends the Slip when I saw him
on the Wharf.
Having manned our craft, we purchased a colossal refrigerator in which
to put our Bass and Weak Fish, laid in a stock of cold provisions--among
other things a Cold Shoulder--plenty of exhilarating beverages, and,
with Buoyant Spirits, (every Man of us,) and plenty of ice on board,
started on the slack of the Morning Tide. I regret to state that by the
time we were ready to start our Skipper was half way "Over the Bay,"
being provided with a pocket pistol charged to the muzzle. He and his
two subordinates were pretty well "Shot in the neck" by the time we
reached Fort Lafoyette. The consequence of this was that we no sooner
came Abreast of the reef in that locality than we got Afoul of it. For
getting Afoul of the Rocks we had to Fork over twenty dollars to the
captain of a tug boat which came and Snaked us off with a Coil of Rope
when the tide rose.
During the time we remained stationary, the Bottle, I am sorry to say,
kept going Round. All the excursionists except myself got half seas
over, and when we resumed our voyage the steersman had fallen asleep, so
the vessel left a Wake behind her which was extremely crooked.
We anchored that night outside Sandy Hook, and next morning cast our
lines overboard, and commenced fishing. Our success in that Line was
astounding, not to say embarrassing. We commenced to take Fish on an
unparalleled Scale. Dog Fish and Stingarees were hauled over the side
without intermission. The former is a kind of small shark. As they will
Swallow anything, we Took them In very fast Although extremely
voracious, they are so simple that if it were not for their size they
would fell an easy prey to the Sea Gull, which, in spite of its name, is
a very Wide Awake bird. Stingarees are fish of much more
Penetration--their sharp tails slashing everything that comes in their
way. These natural weapons, which have been furnished them by Providence
as a means of defence in their Extremity, cut through a fellow's
trousers like paper. The interesting creatures cut up so that we kindly
consigned them, together with the dog fish, to their native element,
having first benevolently knocked them on the head. Changing our
location for a change of luck, we captured a superb mess of sea robins
and toad fish. This satisfied us. So we pulled up anchor, not Hankering
for any more such sport, and left the Hook, very glad to Hook It. We
didn't have any of our toadies or robbins cooked, as those "spoils of
ocean," although interesting as marine curiosities, are not considered
good to eat, but each man had a Broil, as the Sun was very hot, and as
CHOWLES remarked, "brought out the Gravy." That night we turned in,
having been turned inside out all day. Next morning we reached home. The
skipper presented his Bill in the course of the day. Although extremely
exorbitant, we paid it without a murmur, being too much exhausted from
casting up accounts ourselves, to bring him to Book for his misconduct.
Such is the sad experience of
Yours Reverentially,
       *       *       *       *       *
The Pillar of Salt (Lake.)
Lot's (of) Wife.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Are offering novelties in                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Crepe de Chine Sashes                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                     WITH HEAVY FRINGES,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                The Latest Paris Style. Also,                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                    WIDE BLACK AND COLORED                    |
  |                         SASH RIBBONS                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Roman, Ecossais, Broche and                  |
  |                        Chine Ribbons,                        |
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  |                        JUST RECEIVED.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                     A. T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                Are closing out their stock of                |
  |                                                              |
  |                FRENCH, ENGLISH, AND DOMESTIC                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                           CARPETS,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |           Oil Cloths, Rugs, Mats, Cocoa and Canton           |
  |                      Mattings, &c., &c.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |               At a Great REDUCTION IN PRICES,                |
  |                                                              |
  |         Notwithstanding the unexpected extraordinary         |
  |                        rise in gold.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |          _Customers and Strangers are Respectfully_          |
  |                                                              |
  |                     INVITED TO EXAMINE.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
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  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
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  |                    Extraordinay Bargains                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                              IN                              |
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  |            LADIES' PARIS AND DOMESTIC READY-MADE             |
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  |                   Suits, Robes, Reception                    |
  |                        Dresses, &c.,                         |
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  |               Some less than half their cost.                |
  |                                                              |
  |             AND WE WILL DAILY OFFER NOVELTIES IN             |
  |                                                              |
  |               Plain and Braided Victoria Lawn,               |
  |                   Linen and Pique Traveling                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                            SUITS.                            |
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  |                   PANIER BEDUOIN MANTLES,                    |
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  |                    From $3.50 to $7 each.                    |
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  |               Richly Embroidered Cashmere and                |
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  |                         PARIS MADE,                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                     $8 each and upward.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Steward & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                4TH AVE., 9TH AND 10TH STREETS                |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
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  |                                                              |
  |                Tourists and Pleasure Traveler                |
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  |   will be glad to learn that the Erie Railway Company has    |
  |                           prepared                           |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                   MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                  The New Burlesque Serial,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |              Written expressly for PUNCHINELLO,              |
  |                                                              |
  |                              BY                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                       ORPHEUS C. KERR,                       |
  |                                                              |
  | Commenced in No. 11, will be continued weekly throughout the |
  |                            year.                             |
  |                                                              |
  | A sketch of the eminent author, written by his bosom friend, |
  |                 with superb illustrations of                 |
  |                                                              |
  |    1ST. THE AUTHOR'S PALATIAL RESIDENCE AT BEGAD'S HILL,     |
  |                 TICKNOR'S FIELDS, NEW JERSEY                 |
  |                                                              |
  | 2D. THE AUTHOR AT THE DOOR OF SAID PALATIAL RESIDENCE, taken |
  |   as he appears "Every Saturday, will also be found in the   |
  |                         same number.                         |
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  |                        P.O. Box 2783.                        |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
Vol. 1.    No. 21.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD, By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
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  |                        "PUNCHINELLO"                         |
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  |                         J. NICKINSON                         |
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  |                          Room No. 4                          |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                 CHARLES C. CHATFIELD & CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                      New Haven, Conn.,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                     Have Just Published                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  "THE AMERICAN COLLEGES AND                  |
  |                    THE AMERICAN PUBLIC,"                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                              BY                              |
  |                                                              |
  |          PROF. NOAH PORTER, D.D., OF YALE COLLEGE.           |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                    OPINIONS OF THE BOOK.                     |
  |                                                              |
  | "I have read it with very deep interest."--PRESIDENT McCOSH, |
  |                          PRINCETON.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |    "An excellent and valuable work."--PRESIDENT CUMMINGS,    |
  |                     WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY.                     |
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  |                          PRINCETON.                          |
  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                NEW COLLECTION OF YALE SONGS.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Just Published.                        |
  |                                                              |
  | SONGS OF YALE.--A new Collection of the Songs of Yale, with  |
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  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                      UNIVERSITY SERIES.                      |
  |                                                              |
  | _Educational and Scientific Lectures, Addresses and Essays,  |
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  |                                                              |
  | I.--"ON THE PHYSICAL BASIS OF LIFE." By Prof. T. H. HUXLEY,  |
  | LL. D., F. R. S. With an Introduction by a Professor in Yale |
  |            College. 12mo, pp. 36. Price 25 cents.            |
  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
  | II.--THE CORRELATION OF VITAL AND PHYSICAL FORCES. By Prof.  |
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  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
  |  III.--AS REGARDS PROTOPLASM, in Relation to Prof. HUXLEY'S  |
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  |                  S. Pp. 72. Price 25 cents.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |    By far the ablest reply to Prof. HUXLEY which has been    |
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  |                                                              |
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  |                    this series. Address:                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                 CHARLES C. CHATFIELD & CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
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  |                       ESTABLISHED 1866                       |
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  |                 Boston Journal of Chemistry.                 |
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MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.
AN ADAPTATION.
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.
CHAPTER XIV.
CLOVES FOR THREE.
Christmas Eve in Bumsteadville. Christmas Eve all over the world, but
especially where the English language is spoken. No sooner does the
first facetious star wink upon this Eve, than all the English-speaking
millions of this Boston-crowned earth begin casting off their hatreds,
meannesses, uncharities, and Carlyleisms, as a garment, and, in a
beautiful spirit of no objections to anybody, proceed to think what can
be done for the poor in the way of sincerely wishing them well. The
princely merchant, in his counting-room, involuntarily experiences the
softening, humanizing influence of the hour, and, in tones tremulous
with unwonted emotion, privately directs his Chief-Clerk to tell all the
other clerks, that, on this night of all the round year, they may,
before leaving the store at 10 o'clock, take almost any article from
that slightly damaged auction-stock down in the front cellar, at actual
cost-price. This, they are to understand, implies their Employer's
hearty wish of a Merry Christmas to them; and is a sign that, in the
grand spirit of the festal season, he can even forget and forgive those
unnatural leaner entry-clerks who are always whining for more than their
allotted $7 a week. The President of the great railroad corporation, in
the very middle of a growling fit over the extra cost involved in
purchasing his last Legislature, (owing to the fact that some of its
Members had been elected upon a fusion of Radical-Reform and
Honest-Workingman's Tickets,) is suddenly and mysteriously impressed
with the recollection that this is Christmas Eve. "Why, bless my soul,
so it is!" he cries, springing up from his littered rosewood desk like a
boy. "Here, you General Superintendent out there in the office!" sings
he, cheerily, "send some one down to Washington Market this instant, to
find out whether or not any of those luscious anatomical western turkies
that I saw in the barrels this morning are left yet. If the commercial
hotels down-town haven't taken them all, buy every remaining barrel at
once! Not a man nor boy in this Company's service shall go home to-night
without his Christmas dinner in his hand! Lively, now, Mr. JONES! and
just oblige me by picking out one of the birds for yourself, if you can
find one at all less blue than the rest. It's Christmas Eve, sir; and
upon my word I'm really sorry our boys have to work to-morrow as usual.
Ah! it's hard to be poor, JONES! A merry Christmas to us all. Here's my
carriage come for me." And even in returning to their homes from their
daily avocations, on Christmas Eve, how the most grasping, penurious
souls of men will soften to the world's unfortunate! Who is this poor
old lady, looking as though she might be somebody's grandmother, sitting
here by the wayside, shivering, on such an Eve as this? No home to
go?--Relations all dead?--Eaten nothing in two days?--Walked all the way
from the Woman's Rights Bureau in Boston?--Dear me! _can_ there be so
much suffering on Christmas Eve? I must do something for her, or my own
good dinner to-morrow will be a reproach to me. "Here! Policeman! just
take this poor old lady to the Station-House, and give her a good warm
home there until morning. There! cheer-up, Aunty; you're all right
_now._ This gentleman in the uniform has promised to take care of you.
Merry Christmas!"--Or, when at home, and that extremely bony lad, in the
thin summer coat, chatters to you, from the snow on the front-stoop,
about the courage he has taken from Christmas Eve to ask you for enough
to get a meal and a night's-lodging--how differently from your ordinary
style does a something soft in your breast impel you to treat him. "No
work to be obtained?" you say, in a light tone, to cheer him up. "Of
course there's none _here,_ my young friend. All the work here at the
East is for foreigners, in order that they may be used at election-time.
As for you, an American boy, why don't you go to h-- I mean to the West.
_Go West_, young man! Buy a good, stout farming outfit, two or three
serviceable horses, or mules, a portable house made in sections, a few
cattle, a case of fever medicine--and then go out to the far West upon
Government-land. You'd better go to one of the hotels for to-night, and
then purchase Mr. GREELEY'S 'What I Know About Farming,' and start as
soon as the snow permits in the morning. Here are ten cents for you.
Merry Christmas!"--Thus to honor the natal Festival of Him--the
Unselfish incarnate, the Divinely insighted--Who said unto the
lip-server: Sell all that thou hast, and give it to the Poor, and follow
Me; and from Whom the lip-server, having great possessions, went away
exceeding sorrowful!
Three men are to meet at dinner in the Bumsteadian apartments on this
Christmas Eve. How has each one passed the day?
MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON, in his room in Gospeler's Gulch, reads Southern
tragedies in an old copy of the _New Orleans Picayune,_ until two
o'clock, when he hastily tears up all his soiled paper collars, packs a
few things into a travelling satchel, and, with the latter slung over
his shoulder, and a Kehoe's Indian club in his right hand, is met in the
hall by his tutor, the Gospeler.
"What are you doing with that club, Mr. MONTGOMERY?" asks the Reverend
OCTAVIUS, hastily stepping back into a corner.
"I've bought it to exercise with in the open air," answers the young
Southerner, playfully denting the wall just over his tutor's head with
it "After this dinner with Mr. DROOD, at BUMSTEAD'S, I reckon I shall
start on a walking match, and I've procured the club for exercise as I
go. Thus:" He twirls it high in the air, grazes Mr. SIMPSON'S nearer
ear, hits his own head accidentally, and breaks the glass in the
"I see! I see!" says the Gospeler, rather hurriedly. "Perhaps you _had_
better be entirely alone, and in the open country, when you take that
Rubbing his skull quite dismally, the prospective pedestrian goes
straightway to the porch of the Alms-House, and there waits until his
sister comes down in her bonnet and joins him.
"MAGNOLIA," he remarks, hastening to be the first to speak, in order to
have any conversational chance at all with her, "it is not the least
mysterious part of this Mystery of ours, that keeps us all out of doors
so much in the unseasonable winter month of December,[1] and now I am
peculiarly a meteorological martyr in feeling obliged to go walking for
two whole freezing weeks, or until the Holidays and this--this
marriage-business, are over. I didn't tell Mr. SIMPSON, but my real
purpose, I reckon, in having this club, is to save myself, by violent
exercise with it, from perishing of cold."
"Must you do this, MONTGOMERY?" asks his colloquial sister,
thoughtfully. "Perhaps if I were to talk long enough with you--"
"--You'd literally exhaust me into not going? Certainly you would," he
returns, confidently. "First, my head would ache from the constant
noise; then it would spin; then I should grow faint and hear you less
distinctly; then your voice, although you were talking-on the same as
ever, would sound like a mere steady hum to me; then I should become
unconscious, and be carried home, with you still whispering in my ear.
But do _not_ talk, MAGNOLIA; for I must do the walking-match. The
prejudice here against my Southern birth makes me a damper upon the
festivities of others at this general season of forgiveness to all
mankind, and I can't stand the sight of that DROOD and Miss POTTS
together. I'd better stay away until they have gone."
He pauses a moment, and adds: "I wish I were not going to this dinner,
or that I were not carrying this club there."
He shakes her hand and his own head, glances up at the storm-clouds now
gathering in the sky, goes onward to Mr. BUMSTEAD'S boarding-house,
halts at the door a moment to moisten his right hand and balance the
Indian club in it, and then enters.
EDWIN DROOD'S day before merry Christmas is equally hilarious. Now that
the Flowerpot is no longer on his mind, the proneness of the masculine
nature to court misfortune causes him to think seriously of Miss
PENDRAGON, and wonder whether _she_ would make a wife to ruin a man? It
will be rather awkward, he thinks, to be in Bumsteadville for a week or
two after the Macassar young ladies shall have heard of his matrimonial
disengagement, as they will all be sure to sit symmetrically at every
front window in the Alms-House whenever he tries to go by; and he
resolves to escape the danger by starting for Egypt, Illinois,
immediately after he has seen Mr. DIBBLE and explained the situation to
him. Finding that his watch has run down, he steps into a jeweler's to
have it wound, and is at once subjected to insinuating overtures by the
man of genius. What does he think of this ring, which is exactly the
thing for some particular Occasions in Life? It is made of the metal for
which nearly all young couples marry now-a-days, is as endless as their
disagreements, and, by the new process, can be stretched to fit the
Second wife's hand, also. Or look at this pearl set. Very chaste, really
soothing; intended as a present from a Husband after First Quarrel.
These cameo ear-rings were never known to fail. Judiciously presented,
in a velvet case, they may be depended upon to at once divert a young
Wife from Returning to her Mother, as she has threatened. Ah! Mr. DROOD
cares for no more jewelry than his watch, chain and seal-ring? To be
sure! when Mr. BUMSTEAD was in yesterday for the regular daily new
crystal in his own watch--how _does_ he break so many!--_he_ said that
his beloved nephews wore only watches and rings, or he would buy paste
breastpins for them. Your oroide is now wound up, Mr. DROOD, and set at
twenty minutes past Two.
"Dear old JACK!" thinks EDWIN to himself, pocketing his watch as he
walks away; "he thinks just twice as much of me as any one else in the
world, and I should feel doubly grateful."
As dusk draws on, the young fellow, returning from a long walk, espies
an aged Irish lady leaning against a tree on the edge of the turnpike,
with a pipe upside-down in her mouth, and her bonnet on
wrong-side-afore.
"Are you sick?" he asks kindly.
"Divil a sick, gintlemen," is the answer, with a slight catch of the
voice,--"bless the two of yez!"
EDWIN DROOD can scarcely avoid a start, as he thinks to himself, "Good
Heaven! how much like JACK!"
"Do you eat cloves, madame?" he asks, respectfully.
"Cloves is it, honey? ah, thin, I do that, whin I'm expectin' company.
Odether-nodether, but I've come here the day from New York for nothing.
Sure phat's the names of you two darlints?"
"EDWIN," he answers, in some wonder, as he hands her a currency stamp,
which, on account of the large hole worn in it, he has been repeatedly
unable to pass himself.
"EDDY is it? Och hone, och hone, machree!" exclaims the venerable woman,
hanging desolately around the tree by her arms while her bonnet falls
over her left ear: "I've heard that name threatened. Och, acushla
Believing that the matron will be less agitated if left alone, and,
probably, able to get a little roadside sleep, EDWIN DROOD passes onward
in deep thought. The boarding-house is reached, and _he_ enters.
J. BUMSTEAD'S day of the dinner is also marked by exhilarating
experiences. With one coat-tail unwittingly tucked far up his back, so
that it seems to be amputated, and his alpaca umbrella under his arm, he
enters a grocery-store of the village, and abstractedly asks how
strawberries are selling to-day? Upon being reminded that fresh fruit is
very scarce in late December, he changes his purpose, and orders two
bottles of Bourbon flavoring-extract sent to his address. And now he
wishes to know what they are charging for sponges? They tell him that he
must seek those articles at the druggist's, and he compromises by
requesting that four lemons be forwarded to his residence. Have they any
good Canton-flannel, suitable for a person of medium complexion?--
No?--Very well, then: send half a pound of cloves to his house before
There are Ritualistic services at Saint Cow's, and he renders the
organ-accompaniments with such unusual freedom from reminiscences of the
bacchanalian repertory, that the Gospeler is impelled to compliment him
as they leave the cathedral.
"You're in fine tone to-day, BUMSTEAD. Not quite so much volume to your
playing as sometimes, but still the tune could be recognized."
"That, sir," answers the organist, explainingly, "was because I held my
right wrist firmly with my left hand, and played mostly with only one
finger. The method, I find, secures steadiness of touch and precision in
hitting the right key."
"I should think it would, Mr. BUMSTEAD. You seem to be more free than
ordinarily from your occasional indisposition."
"I am less nervous, Mr. SIMPSON," is the reply. "I've made up my mind to
swear off, sir.--I'll tell you what I'll do, SIMPSON," continues the
Ritualistic organist, with sudden confidential affability. "I'll make an
agreement with you, that whichever of us catches the other slipping-up
first in the New Year, shall be entitled to call for whatever he wants."
"Bless me! I don't understand," ejaculates the Gospeler.
"No matter, sir. No matter!" retorts the mystic of the organ-loft,
abruptly returning to his original gloom. "My company awaits me, and I
"Excuse me," cries the Gospeler, turning back a moment; "but what's the
matter with your coat?"
The other discovers the condition of his tucked-up coat-tail with some
fierceness of aspect, but immediately explains that it must have been
caused by his sitting upon a folding-chair just before leaving home.
So, humming a savage tune in make-belief of no embarrassment at all in
regard to his recently disordered garment, Mr. BUMSTEAD reaches his
boarding-house. At the door he waits long enough to examine his
umbrella, with scowling scrutiny, in every rib; and then _he_ enters.
Behind the red window-curtain of the room of the dinner-party shines the
light all night, while before it a wailing December gale rises higher
and higher. Through leafless branches, under eaves and against chimneys,
the savage wings of the storm are beaten, its long fingers caught, and
its giant shoulder heaved. Still, while nothing else seems steady, that
light behind the red curtain burns unextinguished; the reason being that
the window is closed and the wind cannot get at it.
At morning comes a hush on nature; the sun arises with that innocent
expression of countenance which causes some persons to fancy that it
resembles Mr. GREELEY after shaving; and there is an evident desire on
the part of the wind to pretend that it has not been up all night.
Fallen chimnies, however, expose the airy fraud, and the clock blown
completely out of Saint Cow's steeple reveals what a high time there has
Christmas morning though it is, Mr. MCLAUGHLIN is summoned from his
family-circle of pigs, to mount the Ritualistic church and see what can
be done; and while a small throng of early idlers are staring up at him
from Gospeler's Gulch, Mr. BUMSTEAD, with his coat on in the wrong way,
and a wet towel on his head, comes tearing in amongst them like a
congreve rocket.
"Where's them nephews?--where's MONTGOMERIES?--where's that umbrella?"
howls Mr. BUMSTEAD, catching the first man he sees by the throat, and
driving his hat over his eyes.
"What's the matter, for goodness sake?" calls the Gospeler from the
window of his house. "Mr. PENDRAGON has gone away on a walking-match. Is
not Mr. DROOD at home with you?"
"Norrabit'v it," pants the organist, releasing his man's throat, but
still leaning with heavy affection upon him: "m'nephews wen 'out with 'm
--f'r li'lle walk--er mir'night; an' 've norseen'm--since."
There is no more looking up at Saint Cow's steeple with a MCLAUGHLIN on
it now. All eyes fix upon the agitated Mr. BUMSTEAD, as he wildly
attempts to step over the tall paling of the Gospeler's fence at a
stride, and goes crashing headlong through it instead.
(_To be Continued_.)
[Footnote 1: In the original English story there is, considering the
bitter time of year given, a truly extraordinary amount of solitary
sauntering, social strolling, confidential confabulating,
evening-rambling, and general lingering, in the open air. To "adapt"
this novel peculiarity to American practice, without some little
violation of probability, is what the present conscientious Adapter
finds almost the artistic requirement of his task.]
       *       *       *       *       *
The most fearful weapon yet brought into the field of war--if we are to
believe newspaper correspondents--is the revolving grape-shot gun known
as the "hail-thrower," a piece of ordnance said to be in use by the
French and Prussian armies, alike. If half we hear about the
"hail-thrower" be true, 'twere better for all concerned to keep out of
hail of it. Many a hale fellow well met by that fearful hail storm must
go to grass ere the red glare of the war has passed away. "Where do you
hail from?" would be a bootless question to put when the "hail-thrower"
begins to administer throes to the breaking ranks. Worse than that; it
would probably be a headless question.
       *       *       *       *       *
"THE PERFECT CURE."
A newspaper paragraph states that, in Minnesota, they have a very
summary way of restoring the consciousness of pigs that have been
smitten by the summery rays of the sun. They simply open piggy's head
with a pick-axe or other handy instrument, introduce a handful or two of
salt, close up the head again, and piggy is all right. But this, after
all, is simply a new application of the old practice of Curing pork with
       *       *       *       *       *
Con by a Son of a Gun.
Why are the new breech-loaders supplied with needles?
To keep their breeches in repair, of course.
       *       *       *       *       *
Con by a Carpet-Shaker.
Why is a large carpet like the late rebellion?
Because it took such a lot of tax to put it down.
       *       *       *       *       *
ADVICE TO PICNIC PARTIES.
At this culminating period of the summer season, it is natural that the
civic mind should turn itself to the contemplation of sweet rural
things, including shady groves, lunch-baskets, wild flowers, sandwiches,
bird songs, and bottled lager-bier.
The skies are at their bluest, now; the woods and fields are at their
greenest; flowers are blooming their yellowest, and purplest, and
scarletest. All Nature is smiling, in fact, with one large,
comprehensive smile, exactly like a first-class PRANG chromo with a
fresh coat of varnish upon it.
Things being thus, what can be more charming than a rural excursion to
some tangled thicket, the very brambles, and poison-ivy, and possible
copperhead snakes of which are points of unspeakable value to a picnic
party, because they are sensational, and one cannot have them in the
city without rushing into fabulous extra expense. It is good, then, that
neighbors should club together for the festive purposes of the picnic,
and a few words of advice regarding the arrangement of such parties may
be seasonable.
If your excursion includes a steamboat trip, always select a boat that
is likely to be crowded to its utmost capacity, more especially one of
which a majority of the passengers are babies in arms. There will
probably be some roughs on board, who will be certain to get up a row,
in which case you can make the babies in arms very effective as
"buffers" for warding off blows, while the crowd will save you from
being knocked down.
Should there be a bar on board the steamer, it will be the duty of the
gentlemen of the party to keep serving the ladies with cool beverages
from it at brief intervals during the trip. This will promote
cheerfulness, and, at the same time, save for picnic duty proper the
contents of the stone jars that are slumbering sweetly among the
pork-pies and apple-dumplings by which the lunch-baskets are occupied.
Never take more than one knife and fork with you to a picnic, no matter
how large the party may be. The probability is that you may be attacked
by a gang of rowdies and it is no part of your business to furnish them
with weapons.
Avoid taking up your ground near a swamp or stagnant water of any kind.
This is not so much on account of mosquitoes as because of the small
saurian reptiles that abound in such places. If your party is a large
one, there will certainly be one lady in it, at least, who has had a
lizard in her stomach for several years, and the struggles of the
confined reptile to join its congeners in the swamp might induce
convulsions, and so mar the hilarity of the party.
To provide against an attack by the city brigands who are always
prowling in the vicinity of picnic parties, it will be judicious to
attend to the following rules:
Select all the fat women of the party, and seat them in a ring outside
the rest of the picnickers, and with their faces toward the centre of
the circle. In the event of a discharge of missiles this will be found a
very effective _cordon_--quite as effective, in fact, as the feather
beds used in the making up of barricades.
Let the babies of the party be so distributed that each, or as many as
possible of the gentlemen present, can have one at hand to snatch up and
use for a fender should an attack at close quarters be made.
If any dark, designful strangers should intrude themselves upon the
party, unbidden, the gentlemen present should by no means exhibit the
slightest disposition to resent the intrusion, or to show fight, as the
strangers are sure to be professional thieves, and, as such, ready to
commit murder, if necessary. Treat the strangers with every
consideration possible under the circumstances. Should there be no
champagne, apologize for the absence of it, and offer the next best
vintage you happen to have. Of course, having lunched, the strangers
will be eager to acquire possession of all valuables belonging to the
party. The gentlemen, therefore, will make a point of promptly handing
over to them their own watches and jewelry, as well as those of their
lady friends.
Having arrived home, (we assume the possibility of this,) refrain,
carefully, from communicating with the police on the subject of the
events of the day. The publicity that would follow would render you an
object of derision, and no possible good could result to you from
disclosure of the facts. But you should at once make up your mind never
to participate in another picnic.
       *       *       *       *       *
A CHANCE FOR OUR ORGAN GRINDERS.
The famous _mitrailleur_, or grape-thrower, with which LOUIS NAPOLEON
has already commenced to astonish the Prussians, suggests congenial work
for the numerous performers on the barrel-organ with which our large
cities are at all times infested. It is worked with a crank, exactly
after the manner of the too-familiar street instrument; and might easily
be fitted with a musical cylinder arranged for the performance of the
most inspiriting and patriotic French airs. Should Italy, at present
neutral, take side with France hereafter, she should at once withdraw
her wandering minstrels from all parts of the world, and set them to
work on the "double attachment" engine of L.N. Nothing could be more
appropriate for working the _mitrailleur_ than a corps of barrel-organ
grinders from the land of the Grape.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE ORIGIN OF PUNCHINELLO.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: Though aware that you "belong to Company G," and must
not be bothered, I wish to ask whether you are descended from the famous
chicken-dealer of Sorrento, who sold fowls in Naples, and was well-known
in that fun-loving city for the humor of his speech and the oddity of
his form. He was called "PULCINELLA," I believe, the name being the same
as that of his wares.
If not to this celebrated wag, perhaps you trace your origin to Mr.
PUCCIO D'ANELLO, who so delighted a company of actors at Aceria, with
his jokes and gibes, that they invited him to join them, and soon
discovered that they had found a Star.
If neither of these classical wags was your ancestor, may I ask, who the
deuce _did_ you come from? Yours, truly,
       *       *       *       *       *
RECIPE TO BE TESTED.
We see that they have been "firing cannon in the fields near Paris, to
bring on a rain." If there is any virtue in this recipe, they are likely
to get some moist weather to the north-eastward of Paris, to say the
least. The firing in that quarter may even lead to a Reign in Paris such
as France has not lately seen. We would not go so far as to _predict_
anything of this sort. Oh, no; for we are aware that the moment we
should do so, NAPOLEON would lick the Prussians on purpose to show the
world that we didn't hit it that time.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE WATERING PLACES.
Punchinello's Vacations.
When one wants to see the great people who are to be seen nowhere else,
one goes to the celebrated White Sulphur Springs of Virginia; and, very
correctly supposing that there might be persons there who would like to
see him, Mr. PUNCHINELLO took a trip to the aforesaid springs. He found
it charming there. There was such a chance to study character. From the
parlors where Chief-Justice CHASE and General LEE were hob-nobbing over
apple-toddies and "peach-and-honey," to the cabins where the wards of
the nation were luxuriating in picturesque ease beneath the shade of
their newly-fledged angel of liberty, everything was instructive to the
well-balanced mind.
Here, too, in these fertile regions, were to be seen those exquisite
floral creations known as mint-juleps, the absence of which in our
Northern agricultural exhibitions can never be sufficiently deplored.
Witness the beauty of the design and the ingenious delicacy of the
execution of one of the humblest of the species.
From experience in the matter, Mr. P. is prepared to say, that not only
as an exponent of the beauties of nature, but as a drink, a mint-julep
is far superior to the water which gives thin resort its celebrity. Why
people persist in drinking that vilest of all water which is found at
the fashionable springs, Mr. P. cannot divine. If it is medicine you
want, you can get your drugs at any apothecary's, and he will mix them
in water for you for a very small sum extra. And the saving in expense
of travel, board and extras, will be enormous.
But in spite of this fact, there were plenty of distinguished-looking
people at the White Sulphur. Mr. P. didn't know them all, but he had no
doubt that one of them was General LEE; one PHIL. SHERIDAN; another
Prof. MAURY; another GOLDWIN SMITH; and others Governor WISE; HENRY WARD
BEECHER, WADE HAMPTON, WENDELL PHILLIPS, RAPHAEL SEMMES, and LUCRETIA
MOTT. One man, an incognito, excited Mr. P.'s curiosity. This personage
was generally found in the society of LEE, JOHNSTON, POPE, HAMPTON,
GREELEY, and those other fellows who did so much to injure the Union
cause during the war. One day Mr. P. accosted him. He was an oddity, and
perhaps it would be a good idea to put his picture in the paper.
"Sir!" said Mr. P., with that delicate consideration for which he is so
noted, "why do you pull your hat down over your eyes, and what is your
object in thus concealing your identity? Come sir! let us know what it
The _incognito_ glanced at Mr. P. with the corner of his eye, and
perceiving that he was in citizen's dress, pulled his hat still further
over his face.
"My business," said he, "is my own, but since the subject has been
broached, I may as well let _you_ know what it is."
"You know me, then?" said Mr. P.
"I do," replied the other, and proceeding with his recital, he said,
"You may have heard that a number of negro squatters were lately ejected
from a private estate in this State, after they had made the grounds to
blossom like the rose, and to bring forth like the herring."
"Yes, I heard that," said Mr. P.
"Well," said the other, "I happened to have some land near by, and I
invited those negroes to come and squat on my premises--"
"Intending to turn them off about blossoming time?" said Mr. P.
"Certainly, certainly," said the other, "and I am just waiting about
here until they put in a wheat crop on part of the land. I can then sell
that portion, right away."
"Well, Mr. BEN BUTLER," said Mr. P., "all that is easily understood, now
that I know who you are; but tell me this, why are you so careful to
cover your face when in the company of civilians or ladies, and yet go
about so freely among these ex-Confederate officers?"
"Oh," said the other, "you see I don't want to be known down here, and
some of the women or old men might remember my face. There's no danger
of any of the soldiers recognizing me, you know."
"Oh, no," cried Mr. P. "None in the world, sir."
"And besides," said the modest BUTLER, "it's too late now for me to be
spooning around among the women."
"That's so," said Mr. P. "Good-bye, BENJAMIN. Any news from Dominica?"
"None at all," said the other, "and I don't care if there never is. I am
opposed to that annexation scheme now."
"Sold your claims?" said Mr. P. The incognito winked and departed.
That evening at supper Mr. P. remarked that his biscuits were rather
hard, and he blandly requested a waiter to take one of them outside and
crack it. The elder PEYTON, who runs the hotel, overheard Mr. P.'s
remark, and stepping up to him, said:
"Sir, you should not be so particular about your food. What you pay me,
while you stay at my place, is my charge for the water you drink. The
food and lodging I throw in, gratis."
Mr. P. arose.
"Mr. PEYTON," said he, "when I was quite a little boy, my father, making
the tour of America, brought me here, and I distinctly remember your
making that remark to him. Since then many of my friends have visited
the White Sulphur, and you invariably made the same remark to them. Is
there no way to escape the venerable joke?"
The gentle PEYTON made no answer, but walked away, and after supper, one
of the boarders took Mr. P. aside and urged him to excuse their host, as
he was obliged to make the joke in question to every guest. The
obligation was in his lease.
So the matter blew over.
Reflecting, however, that if he had to pay so much for the water, that
he had better drink a little, Mr. P. went down to the spring to see what
could be done. On the way, he met Uncle AARON, formerly one of
WASHINGTON'S body-servants. The venerable patriarch touched his hat, and
Mr. P., hoping from such great age to gain a little wisdom, propounded
the following questions:
"Uncle, is this water good for the bile?"
"Oh, lor! no, mah'sr! Dat dar water 'ud jis spile anything you biled in
it. Make it taste of rotten eggs, for all the world, sir! 'Deed it
"But what I want to know," said Mr. P., "is why the people drink it."
"Lor' bless you, mah'sr! Dis here chile kin tell you dat. Ye see de
gem'men from de Norf dey drinks it bekase they eat so much cold wheat
bread. Allers makes 'em sick, sir."
"And why do the Southerners drink it?"
"Wal, mah'sr, you see dey eats so much hot wheat bread, and it don't
agree wid 'em, no how."
"But how about the colored people? I have seen them drinking it,
frequently," said Mr. P.
"Oh, lor, mah'sr, how you is a askin' questions! Don't you know dat de
colored folks hab to drink it bekase dey don't get no wheat bread at
Mr. P. heard no better philosophy than this on the subject while he
remained at the White Sulphur. When he left, he brought a couple of
gallons of the water with him, and intends keeping it in the
water-cooler in his office, for loungers.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE POEMS OF THE CRADLE.
      "JACK and GILL went up the bill
      To fetch a pail of water;
      JACK fell down and broke his crown,
      And GILL came tumbling after."
How many persons there are who read those lines without giving one
moment's thought to their hidden beauty. Love, obedience, and devotion
unto death, are here portrayed; and yet people will repeat the lines of
the melancholy muse with a smile on their faces, and even teach it to
their young children as a sort of joyful lyric.
My own infant-mind was tampered with in the same manner; and after I had
committed the poem to memory I was proudly called up by my fond and
doting parents to display my infantile acquirements before admiring
visitors. The result might have been foreknown. All my infancy and youth
passed away, and I never once perceived the hidden worth of these lines
till I had tumbled down a hill myself, cracked my crown, and was laid up
with it a week or more. During that time I had leisure to muse on the
fate of poor JACK. When my mind expanded so as to take in all the
sublimity of his devotion and death, my heart was filled with admiration
and astonishment, and I resolved I would make one effort to rescue the
memory of poor JACK and loving GILL from the oblivion it seemed to be
falling into, in the greater admiration people gave to the musical style
of the writer.
      "JACK and GILL went up the hill."
Here you see the obedient, loving, long-suffering, put-upon drudge of
his brothers and sisters-we will take the liberty of giving him a few of
each as we are a little more generous than the author--who was compelled
(not the author, but JACK,) to do all the chores, fetch and carry, 'tend
and wait, bear the heat and burden of the day, and be the JACK for all
of them. He was not dignified by the respectable title of JOHN, or
JONATHAN, but was poor simple JACK.
Virtue will always be rewarded, however, and even freckle-faced,
red-headed JACK had one friend, blue-eyed, tender-hearted GILL, who,
seeing the unhesitating obedience he rendered to all, forthwith
concluded that one so lone and sad could appreciate true friendship and
understand the motives that prompted her to give, unsolicited, her
gushing love. So, when the good JACK started up the hill, loving GILL
generously offered to accompany him. Probably the other children looked
out of the windows after them, and laughed, and jeered, and wondered
whither they were going; but, observing the pail, concluded they were
      "To fetch a pail of water,"
which they were willing JACK should do, as it would save them the
possibility of being ordered to do it; not that there was a probability
of such a command being given, but there was a slight danger that the
thing might happen in case JACK was occupied otherwise when the water
was needed. But now that he had gone for it, they were all right, and
rejoiced exceedingly thereat.
Meanwhile the two little sympathizing companions toiled up the steep
hill, drinking in with every inhalation of the balmy air copious
draughts of the new-found elixir of life. "Soft eyes looked love to eyes
that spake again,"[2] and their hearts melted beneath each tender glance.
The little chubby hands that grasped the handle of the pail timidly
crept closer together, and by the time they had reached the rugged top,
it needed but one warm embrace to mingle the two souls into one,
henceforth forever.
This was done.
Tremblingly they drew back, blushing, casting modest glances at each
other; and then, to aid them in recovering from their confusion, turned
their attention to the water, which reflected back two happy, smiling
faces. Filling the pail with the dimpled liquid mirror, they turned
their steps homeward.
Light at heart and intoxicated with bliss, poor JACK, ever unfortunate,
dashed his foot against a stone, and thus it was that
      "JACK fell down and broke his crown."
[Oh! what a fall was there, my countrywomen!] Fearful were the shrieks
that rent the mountain air as he rolled down the hillside. The pail they
had carried so carefully was overturned and rent asunder, and the
trembling water spilled upon the smiling hill-side--fit emblem of their
vanishing hopes.
Down went the roley-poley boy, like a dumpling down a cellar-door;
crashing his head against the cruel rocks that stood in stony
heartedness in his way, and dashing his brains out against their hard
sides. His loving companion, eyes and month dilated with horror, stood
still and rigid, gazing upon the fearful descent, and its tragic ending,
then throwing her arms aloft, and giving a fearful shriek of agony that
thrilled with horror the hearts of the hearers--if there were any--cast
herself down in exact imitation of the fall of her hero, rolled over and
over as he did, and ended by mingling her blood with his upon the same
_His_ crown was broken diagonally; _hers_ slantindicularly; that was the
only difference. Her suicidal act is commemorated in the line,
      "And GILL came tumbling after."
The catastrophe was witnessed by the assembled family, who hastened to
the bleeding victims of parental injustice, and endeavored to do all
that was possible to restore life to the mangled forms of the two who
loved when living, and in death were not divided.
But all in vain. They were dead, and not till then did the family
appreciate the beautiful, self-denying, heroic disposition of the little
martyr, JACK.
The two innocent forms were buried side by side, and the whole country
round mourned the fate of the infant lovers.
Painters preserved their pictures on canvas, and poets sung them at
eventide. The beauties of their life, and their tragic death, were given
by the poet-laureate of the day in the words I have just transcribed;
and such an impression did these make on the minds of the inhabitants,
that the whole population took them to heart, and, with tears in their
eyes, taught them to their children, even unto the third and fourth
generations.
Alas! it was reserved for our day and generation to gabble them over
unthinking, carelessly unmindful of the fearful fate the words describe.
Repentant ones, drop to their memory a tear, even now! It is not too
[Footnote 2: Original, by some other fellow.]
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration:
WHAT WE MAY EXPECT IN OUR ARMY OF THE FUTURE.
"NONE BUT THE BRAVE," ETC.]
       *       *       *       *       *
LETTER FROM A CROAKER.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: You have not, I believe, informed your readers, one of
whom I have the honor to be, as to whether you have yet united yourself
to any Designing Female. As this is a matter peculiarly interesting to
many of your readers, all of whom, I have not the least doubt, are
interested in your welfare, I would advise some statement on your part,
respecting it.
I trust, my dear sir, that, if you are as yet free, you will take the
well-intended advice of a sufferer, and steer entirely clear of the
shoals and quicksands peculiar to the life of a married man, by never
embarking in the matrimonial ship.
Do not misunderstand me. I lived happily, very happily, with my sainted
BELINDA--it must be confessed that she had a striking partiality for
sardines, which caused considerable of a decrease in the profits of my
wholesale and retail grocery establishment. I cherish no resentment on
that account, but, as you probably well know, one of the discomforts of
matrimonial existence is children.
Sir, I have a daughter, who is considered passably good-looking by
certain appreciative individuals. Since the unfortunate demise of my
lamented wife, the profits of the mercantile establishment of which I am
proprietor have largely increased, and as REBECCA is my only child,
there is a considerable prospect of her bringing to the man who espouses
her, a comfortable dowry, and probably a share in my business.
I keep no man-servant, and after my daughter retires--generally at the
witching hour of two in the morning,--I am obliged to hobble down
stairs, extinguish the lights, cover the fire, lock up the house, and
ascertain whether it is perfectly fire and burglar-proof for the time
Were this, sir, the only annoyance to which I am subjected, my wrath
would probably expend itself in a little growling, but hardly have I
reposed myself upon my couch, ere my ear catches an infernal tooting and
twanging and whispering, and a broken-winded German band, engaged by an
admirer of my REBECCA, strikes up some outrageous _pot pourri_, or
something of that sort, and sleep, disgusted, flees my pillow.
Last night--or rather this morning--they came again. Their discordant
symphonies roused me to desperation. I seized a bucket of slops, and;
opening the window, dashed the contents in the direction of the music;
the full force of the deluge striking a fat, froggy-looking little
Dutchman, who was puffing and blowing at a bassoon infinitely larger
than himself. He was just launching out into a prodigious strain, but it
expired while yet in the bloom of youth. He remained for a short time in
the famous posture of the Colossus of Rhodes, vainly endeavoring to
shake off the cigar-stumps and other little _et ceteras_ which were
clinging to him like cerements, uttering the while unintelligible oaths.
Then he struck for his _domus et placens uxor_ at as rapid a rate as his
little dumpy legs could carry him.
If they come to-night--if they dare to come--I will give them a dose
which they will remember.
My dear sir, what can I do to rid myself of these annoyances? The girl
has been to boarding-school, and so can't be sent there again. She has
no friends or relations whom it would be advisable to put her off upon.
Assist me then, in this, the hour of my tribulation, and you, my dear
Mr. PUNCHINELLO, will merit the lasting gratitude of an
UNHAPPY FATHER.
[The best thing an "Unhappy Father" can do, under the circumstances, is
to learn to play upon the bass horn, and then, should the brazen
serenaders again make their appearance, he can give them blow for
blow.--ED. PUNCHINELLO.]
       *       *       *       *       *
That Iron "Dog."
The latest bit of intelligence given by the police regarding the "dog"
so much spoken of in connection with the Twenty-third street murder, is
that it is not, as at first stated, the kind of instrument used by
shipwrights. In other words, the police have discovered that it is not a
Water-dog, though, up to the present date, they have not been able to
prove it a Bloodhound.
       *       *       *       *       *
Severe Penalty.
A newspaper gravely informs us that "the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania
has refused the Writ of Error in the case of Dr. SHOEPPE, convicted of
the murder of Mr. STEINNEKE, _and will be hanged_."
Can nothing be done to save this Court? One may say they had no business
to refuse the Writ. But, at any rate, we are of opinion that the
punishment is excessive.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: WONDERFUL TOUR DE FORCE,
PERFORMED "ON THE BEACH AT LONG BEACH," BY PROFESSOR JAMES FISK, JR.,
THE GREAT AMERICAN ATHLETE.]
       *       *       *       *       *
HIRAM GREEN ON JERSEY MUSQUITOES.
A Hard-fought Battle--Musquitoes have no Sting that Jersey Lightning
cannot Cure.
New Jarsey is noted among her sister countries, as bein' responsible for
2 of the most destructive things ever got up.
The first is of the animal kingdom, and varyin in size from a 3 yeer old
snappin' turtle, to a lode of hay.
It has a bayonet its nose, in which is a skwirt gun charged with
It has no hesitation, whatsoever, of shovin' it's pitch-fork into a
human bein', and when a feller feels it, it makes him think old
SOLFERINO has come for him, and no mistake.
The sirname of this sleep-distroyin' animile, is Muskeeter. And they
like their meet raw.
Misery Number 2 is a beverige manufactured from the compound extract of
chain litenin on the wing, and ile of vitril. It is then flavored with
earysipelas and 7 yeer itch, when it is ready to lay out it's man.
I was on a visit to Jarsey, a short time ago, and if ever a man was
justified in cussin' the day he ever sot foot onto the classick red
shores of New Jarsey, (which soil, by the way, is so greasy that all the
red-headed New Jarsey gals use it for hair ile, while for greasin' a
pancake griddle it can't be beat,) it was the undersined.
The first nite I was in that furrin climb, after hangin' my close over a
chair, and droppin' my false teeth in a tumbler of water, I retired in a
sober and morril condition.
"Balmy sleep, sweet nater's hair restorer," which sentiment I cote from
Mr. DICKENS, who, I understand from the Bosting clergy, is now sizzlin',
haden't yet folded me in her embrace.
Strains of melody, surpassin' by severil lengths the melifflous
discordant notes of the one-armed hand organist's most sublimerest
seemfunny, sircharged the atmosfear. Ever and anon the red-hot breezes
kissed the honest old man's innocent cheek, and slobbered grate capsules
of odoriferous moisture, which ran in little silvery streams from his
reclinin' form. Yes! verily, great pearls hung pendant from his nasal
protuberants.
In other words, I hadent gone to sleep, but lay their sweatin' like an
ice waggon, while the well-known battle song of famished Muskeeters fell
onto my ear. The music seized; and a regiment of Jarsey Muskeeters, all
armed to the teeth and wearin' cowhide butes, marched single-file into
my open window.
The Kernal, a gray-headed old war-worn vetenary, alited from his hoss,
and tide the animal to the bed-post.
The Commander then mounted ontop of the wash-stand, and helpin' hisself
to a chaw of tobacker out of my box, which lay aside him, the old
scoundrel commenced firin' his tobacker juice in my new white hat. "See
here, Kernal," said I, somewhat riled at seein' him make a spittoon of
my best 'stove-pipe,' "if it's all the same to you, spose'n you eject
your vile secretion out of the winder."
"Cork up, old man," said the impudent raskle, "or ile spit on ye and
All about the room the privates were sacreligously misusing my property.
One red-headed old Muskeeter, who was so full of somebody's blood he
couldn't hardly waddle, was seated in the rockin'-chair, and with my
specturcols on his nose, was readin' a copy of PUNCHINELLO, and laffin'
as if heed bust.
Another chap had got my jack-nife, and was amusin' hisself by slashin'
holes in my bloo cotton umbreller, which two other Muskeeters had shoved
up, and was a settin' under, engaged in tyin' my panterloon legs into
Another scallawag had jammed my coat part way into my butes, and was
pourin' water into 'em out from the wash-pitcher, and I am sorry to say
it, evry darned Muskeeter was up to some mean trick, which would put to
blush, even a member of the New Jarsey legislater.
Suddenly the Kernal hollered:
And every Muskeeter fell into line about my bedside.
"Charge bagonets!" said the Kernal. At which the hul lot went for me.
Their pizened wepins entered my flesh.
They charged onto my bald head. Rammed their bayonets into my arms--my
back--my side--and there wasen't a place bigger'n a cent, which they
diden't fill with pizen.
There I lay, groanin' for mercy.
But Jersey Muskeeters, not dealin' in that article, don't know what it
Like the new collecter MURFY, when choppin' off the heads of FENTON
offis holders, mercy hain't their lay, about these times.
At this juncture a company of draggoons clinchin' their pesky bills into
me, dragged me off onto the floor.
And then such a horrible laff they would give, when I would strike for
them and miss hittin'.
There I lay on the floor, puffin' and blowin' like a steem ingine, while
the hull army was dancin' a war dance around my prostrate figger, and
the old Kernal was cuttin' down a double shuffle on the wash-stand,
which made the crockery rattle.
I kicked at 'em as they would charge on my feet and l--limbs. I grabbed
at 'em, as they charged on my face--arms--and shoulders.
Slap! bang! kick! sware!
I couldn't stand it much longer.
As a big corpulent feller, who, I should judge, was gittin' readdy to
jine a Fat mans club, went over me, I catched him by the heel.
I hung on to him with my best holt
He dragged me all over the floor.
My head struck the bedposts, and other furniture.
3 other Muskeeters got straddle of me, and as if I was a hoss, spurred
me up purty lively.
All of a sudden the Muskeeter I was hangin' to give a yank, and drew out
his foot, left his bute in my hand.
Brandishin' the bute about my head, I cleared at lot of Muskeeters.
Jumpin' to my feet I made things fly for a minuit, pilin' up the killed
and wounded in a promiscous heap.
Seein' the Kernal settin' up there enjoyin' the fun, I let fly the bute
Smash! went the lookin-glass.
The venerable commanding Muskeeter had dodged, and was settin' on the
burow, with his thumb on his nose, wrigglin' his fingers at me in a very
ongentlemanly manner.
There I was again unarmed, dancin' about, swelled up like a base ball
player on match day.
"Blood IARGO!" was the cry.
I tride to make a masked battery with a piller. It was no protection
again Jarsey Muskeeters.
As RACHEL mourned for her step-mother, I sighed for me home.
"Why, oh why," I cride, "did I leave old Skeensboro?"
A widder wearin' a borrowed suit of mornin'--eleven children cryin'
because the governor had been chawed up by Muskeeters crowded into my
The army was gettin' reddy to charge onto me agin, and avenge their
fallen comrags.
Suddenly a brite thought struck me.
I ceased a sheet and waved it for a flag of truce.
The order wasen't given.
"Kernal," said I, "before we continue this fite, let's take a drink all
around, and I'll stand treat."
"Done," said he, "trot out your benzine."
I opened the burow drawer, and took out a black bottle.
I pulled the cork and filled all the glasses, then poured a lot into the
wash-bowl, when I handed the bottle to the Kernal.
"Make ready! Take aim! Drink!" Down went the licker.
I laffed a revengeful laff, as every condemned Muskeeter turned up their
heels and cride:
"Water--send my bones back to Chiny--mother dear, I'm comein', 300,000
strong--we die--by the hand--of Jarsey--lite--"
And Jarsey litenin', more powerful than the chassepo gun of France or
the needle-gun of Prushy, had done its work, and the old man was saved
to the world!
It was 3 days before any close would again fit me.
I looked more like a big balloon than a human bein', I was swelled up so
with the pizen.
My blessin's on the head of the individual who invented Jarsey litenin'.
Nothin else would have saved the Lait Gustise's valuable life.
Ever of thow,
HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,
_Lait Gustise of the Peece._
       *       *       *       *       *
From our own Correspondent.
Rumors of war from Europe must always be expected, for how can we get
Pacific news by Atlantic Telegraph?
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: "WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS," ETC,
_First Small Bather_. "WOULDN'T OUR MAMS GIVE US FITS IF THEY CAUGHT US
_Second Ditto_. "I'LL BET YER!"
(_But neither of the happy little truants knows that a thief is running
off with their clothes_.)]
       *       *       *       *       *
REFORM IN JUVENILE LITERATURE.
Since the thrilling moment when GUTTENBURG made his celebrated
discovery, numbers of persons have tried their hands--and undoubtedly
their heads also--at Books for the Young. Hitherto, many of them have
evinced a sad lack of judgment in respect of matter.
Would you believe it, in this highly moral and virtuous age? they have
actually written stories!--stories that were not true! They haven't
seemed to care a button whether they told the truth or not! Where can
they have contracted the deadly heresy that imagination, feeling, and
affection, are good things, deserving encouragement? Mark the effect of
these pernicious teachings! Hundreds and thousands--nay, fellow mortal,
_millions_ of children,--now walk the earth, believing in fairies,
giants, ogres, and such-like unreal personages, and yet unable (we blush
to say it!) to tell why the globe we live on is flattened at the poles!
Is it not a serious question whether children who persistently ignore
what is true and important, but cherish fondly these abominable fables,
may not ultimately be lost?
But, thanks to the recent growth of practical sense--or the decline of
the inventive faculty--in writers for the young, a better day is
dawning, and there is still some hope for the world. Men of sense and
morality are coming forward: they dedicate their minds to this
service--those practical minds whence will be extracted the only true
pabulum for the growing intellect. It is to minds of this stamp--so
truly the antipodes of all that is youthful, spontaneous, and
child-like, (in a word: frivolous,) that we must look for those solid
works which, in the Millennium that is coming, will perfectly supplant
what may be termed, without levity, the "Cock and Bull" system of
juvenile entertainment. Worldly people may consider this stuff graceful
and touching, sweet and loveable; but it is nevertheless clearly
mischievous, else pious and proper persons wouldn't have said so, time
For our part, we may as well confess that our sympathies go out
undividedly toward that important class who are averse to
Nonsense,--more particularly _book_-nonsense,--which they can't stand,
and won't stand, and there's an end of it. There is something
exceedingly winning, to us, in that sturdy sense, that thirst for
mathematical precision, that impatience of theory, that positive and
self-reliant--we don't mind saying, somewhat dogmatical--air, that
sternness of feature, thinness of lip, and coldness of eye, which belong
to the best examples. We respect even the humbler ones; for they at
least hate sentiment, they do not comprehend or approve of humor, and
they never relish wit. What does a taste for these qualities indicate,
but an idle and frivolous mind, devoted to trifles: and how fatal is
such a taste, in the pursuit of wealth and respectability!
Fantastic people have much to say of the "affections," the "graces and
amenities of life," "soul-culture," and the like. We cannot too deeply
deplore their fatuity, in giving prominence to such abstractions. As for
children, the most we can concede is, that they have a natural--though,
of course, depraved--taste for stories: yes, we will say that this
fondness is irrepressible. But, what we really must insist on, is, that
in gratifying that fondness, you give them _true_ stories. Where is the
carefully trained and upright soul that would not reject "JACK, the
Giant-killer," or "Goody Two-shoes," if it could substitute (say, from
"New and True Stories for Children,") a tale as thrilling as this:
    "When I was a boy, I said to my uncle one day, 'How did you
    get your finger cut off?' and he said, 'I was chopping a
    stick one evening, and the hatchet cut off my finger.'"
Blessings, blessings on the man who thus embalmed this touching
incident! Who does not see that the reign of fiction is over!
That the parental portion of the public may judge what the future has in
store for their little ones (who, we hope, will be men and women far
sooner than their ancestors were,) we present them with a fragrant
nosegay (pshaw! we mean, a shovel-full) of samples, commending them,
should they wish for more, to the nearest Sabbath-school library.
Ah, it is a touching thing, to see some great philanthropist come
forward, at the call of Duty and his Publisher (perhaps also quickened
by the hollow sound emitted by his treasure-box), and compress himself
into the absurdly small compass of a few pages 18mo., in order to afford
himself the exalted pleasure of holding simple and godly converse with
children at large!
"All truth--no fiction." What further guarantee would you have? How
replete with useful matter must not a book with _that_ assurance be! Let
    "The Indians cannot build a ship. They do not Know how to get
    iron from the mines, _and they do not know enough._
    "Besides, they do not like to work, and like to fight
    _better_ than to work.
    "When they want to sail, they burn off a log of wood, and
    make it hollow by burning and scraping it with sharp stones."
Now we ask, does not this satisfy your ideal of food for the youthful
mind? Observe that it is simple, direct, graphic, satisfying. It cannot
enfeeble the intellect. It will be useful. There is something tangible
about it. The child at once perceives that if the Indians knew how to
"get iron from the mines," and "knew enough" in general, they would
build ships, in spite of their distaste for work. There can be no doubt
that this is "all truth--no fiction," for Indians are sadly in want of
ships. They like to sail; for we learn that "when they want to sail"
they are so wild for it, that they even go to the length of "burning off
a log of wood, and making it hollow by burning and scraping it with
sharp stones." We thus perceive the significance of the apothegm, "Truth
is stranger than fiction." The day is not far distant when children will
think as much of the new literature as they formerly did of certain
worm-lozenges, for which they were said to "cry."
And where everything has been inspired by the love of Truth, even the
cuts may teach something. If "a canoe," contrary to the general
impression, is at least as long as "a ship," it is very important that
children should so understand it; and if "a pin-fish" is really as big
as "a shark," no mistaken deference to the feelings of the latter should
make us hesitate to say so.
No child, we are convinced, is too young to get ideas of science. In one
of the model books we are pleased to find this great truth distinctly
    "'Is there anything like a lever about a wheelbarrow?' said
    his father. 'O yes, sir,' said JAMES. 'The axle; and the
    wheel is the prop, the load is the weight, and the power is
    your hand.'"
This, we should say, speaks for itself.
Nor is a child ever too young to get ideas of thrift. One of our writers
for infants observes, after explaining that the Dutch reclaimed the
whole of Holland from the sea by means of dykes, "they worked hard,
saved their money, and so grew rich." Any child can take such hints.
Neither is it wholly amiss to demonstrate that a child can't put a clock
in his pocket. For it is plain that he would else be trying to do so
Now, where in the "Arabian Nights" do you find anything like this?--We
answer, triumphantly, Nowhere!
    "'JAMES,' said his father, 'do not shut up hot water too
    tight, and take care when it is over the fire.'
    "'A lady was boiling coffee one day, and kept the cover on
    the coffee-pot too long. When she took it off, the water
    turned to steam, and flew up in her face, and took the skin
    "'Do you know how they make the wheels of a steamboat move?
    They shut up water tight in a great kettle and heat it. Then
    they open a hole which has a heavy iron bar in it, the steam
    lifts it, in trying to get out. That bar moves a lever, and
    the lever moves the wheels.
    "'Machines are wonderful things.'"
This fact the reader must distinctly realize. And doesn't he realize
that the days of JACK, the Giant-killer, and Little Red Riding Hood, are
about over? We want truth. The only question is, (as FESTUS observed),
What is Truth?
       *       *       *       *       *
PUNCHINELLO CORRESPONDENCE
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
_Derrick_.--There is a superstition afloat that, if you see a ladder
hoisted against a house, and, instead of passing outside the ladder you
pass under it, some accident or affliction will befall you. What about
_Answer._.--It all depends upon circumstances. If, while passing under
the ladder, a hod of bricks should fall through it and strike you on the
head, then an "accident or affliction" shall have befallen you:
otherwise not.
_Nincompoop_.--I hear a great deal about the "log" of the _Cambria._ Can
you tell me how it is likely to be disposed of?
_Answer_.--It is to be manufactured into snuff-boxes for the officers
and crew of the _Dauntless_, as a delicate admission that they are up to
snuff and not to be sneezed at.
_Nick of the Pick_.--What is the best way of securing one's self from
the bodily damages to which all persons who attend pic-nic parties now
seem to be liable?
_Answer_.--Don't go to pic-nic parties. Rough it at home.
_John Brown_.--We cannot insert jokes on the number of SMITHS in the
world--except as advertisements. For lowest rates see terms on the
_Hircus_.--We are sorry to say that your remarks on Baby Farming are not
based upon facts. In nine cases out of ten it has nothing whatever to do
with Husbandry.
_Acorn_.--As this is the seventh time you have written to us, asking
whether corns can be cured by cutting, so it must be the last. The thing
palls, and we must now try whether ACORN cannot be got rid of by
_Horseman_.--No; we never remember to have met a man who did not "know
all about a horse." If such a man can be found, his fortune and that of
the finder are assured.
_Seeker_.--It may be true that man changes once in every seven years but
that will hardly excuse you from paying your tailor's bill contracted in
1862, on the ground that you are not the same man.
_Fond Mother_.--None but a brutal bachelor would object to a "sweet
little baby," merely because it was bald-headed.
_Sempronius_.--Would you advise me to commit suicide by hanging?
_Answer_.--No. If you are really bound to hang, we would advise you to
hang about some nice young female person's neck instead of by your own:
it's pleasanter.
_Wacks_.--Yes, the Alaska seal contracts will undoubtedly include the
great Seal of the United States.
_"Talented" Author_.--We do not pay for rejected communications.
_Many Inquiriers_.--We can furnish back numbers to a limited extent;
future ones by the cargo, or steamboat.
       *       *       *       *       *
WALL STREET, AUGUST 2ND.
Respected Sir: Acting upon your suggestion that, despite the repugnance
with which the truly artistic mind must ever view it, Commerce was a
rising institution, and that amongst the thousands of the refined and
haughty who read PUNCHINELLO with feelings of astonishment and awe,
there were some misguided men whose energies had been perverted to the
pursuit of filthy lucre, your contributor yesterday descended into the
purlieus of the city in quest of information wherewith to pander to the
tastes of the debased few.
It would be useless to point out to you that 10 A.M. is not the hour at
which it is the custom of Y.C. to tear himself from his luxurious conch.
His conception of the exalted has always been associated with late
breakfasts. On this memorable occasion, however, duty and a bell-boy
called him; and at the extraordinary hour to which he has referred he
arose and set about his investigations.
A party of distinguished and sorrowing friends accompanied him as far as
BANG'S. The regard which he cherishes for poetry and art had hitherto
marked out this pleasant hostelrie as the utmost limit of his down-town
perambulations. The conversation of his distinguished friends was
elevating: the potations in which they drank their good wishes were
equally, if not more so. Having deposited $2.35 for safe-keeping with a
trusted friend, your contributor hailed a Wall Street stage and sped
fearlessly to his destination. He has gone through the ordeal safely.
Annexed are the result of his labors, in the shape of bulletins which
were forwarded to but never acknowledged by a frivolous and unfeeling
WALL STREET, 10-1/2 A.M.--The market opened briskly with a tendency
towards DELMONICO'S for early refreshments. Eye-openers in active
demand. Brokers have undergone an improvement.
11 A.M.--On the strength of a rumor that a gold dollar had been seen in
an up-town jewelry store, gold declined 1.105.
11.15 A.M.--In consequence of a report that Col. JAS. FISK, JR., has
secured a lease of Plymouth Church, and is already engaged in
negotiations with several popular preachers, Eries advanced one-half per
HALF-PAST ELEVEN A.M.--A reaction has commenced in Eries, it being given
out that Madame KATHI LANNER had sustained an injury which would
necessitate her withdrawal from the Grand Opera House.
TWELVE O'CLOCK.--Just heard some fellow saying, "St. Paul preferred."
Couldn't catch the rest. It seems important. What did St. Paul prefer.
Look it up, and send me word.
HALF-PAST TWELVE.--Market excited over a dog-fight. How about St. Paul?
ONE.--Police on the scene. Market relapsed. Anything of St. Paul yet?
Send me what's-his-name's Commentaries on the Scriptures.
HALF-PAST ONE.--News has been received here that Commodore VANDERBILT
was recently seen in the neighborhood of the Croton reservoir. In view
of the anticipated watering process, N.Y.C. securities are buoyant.
Many, however, would prefer their stock straight. But what was it St.
Paul preferred? Do tell.
TWO O'CLOCK.--Immense excitement has been created on 'Change by a report
that JAY GOULD had been observed discussing Corn with a prominent
Government official. A second panic is predicted.
QUARTER PAST TWO.--Later advices confirm the above report. The place of
their meeting is said to have been the Erie Restaurant. Great anxiety is
felt among heavy speculators.
HALT-PAST TWO.--It is now ascertained that the Corn they were discussing
was Hot Corn at lunch. A feeling of greater security prevails.
THREE O'CLOCK.--Intelligence has just reached here that a dime-piece was
received in change this morning at a Broadway drinking saloon. Gold has
receded one per cent, in consequence. Eries quiet, Judge BARNARD being
out of town.
P.S. I haven't found out what St. Paul preferred. What's-his-name don't
mention it in his Commentaries.
HALF-PAST THREE.--Sudden demand for New York Amusement Co.'s Stock.
HARRY PALMER to reopen Tammany with a grand scalping scene in which the
TWEED tribe of Indians will appear in aboriginal costume. NORTON, GENET,
and _confrères_ have kindly consented to perform their original _rôles_
of _The Victims_.
P.S. Unless I receive some definite information concerning that
preference of St. Paul's, I shall feel it incumbent on me to vacate my
post of Financial Editor.
FOUR O'CLOCK.--On receipt of reassuring news from Europe, the market has
advanced to DELMONICO'S, where wet goods are quoted from 10 cents
upwards. Champagne brisk, with large sales. Counter-sales (sandwiches,
etc.,) extensive. Change in greenbacks greasy.
P.S. Asked a fellow what St. Paul preferred. He said, "St. Paul
Preferred Dividends, you Know." Perhaps St. Paul did. A great many
stockholders do. But what stock did St. Paul hold? Was it Mariposa
or--"Only just taken one, but, as you observe, the weather _is_
confounded hot--so I don't mind if I--"
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE DOG IN THE MANGER.
Crispin won't do the work himself, and won't let John Chinaman do it. ]
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
We have just received from "DICK TINTO," our special correspondent at
the seat of war, the following metrical production said to have been
written by HENRI ROCHEFORT in prison, but suppressed in obedience to
orders from the Emperor. PUNCHINELLO felicitates his readers upon the
enterprise which enables him to lay it before them, and flatters himself
that the enormous trouble and expense involved in hauling it to this
side of the Atlantic, will not prevent him from doing it again--if
AU PRINCE IMPERIAL.
SCENE.--_A square fronting the Bureau of the chemin de fer for Chalons
and Metz. Time, Midi._
The Prince Imperial, en route for the seat of war, is seated upon a
milk-white steed. Beneath his left arm he convulsively carries a
struggling game-cock, with gigantic gaffs, while his right hand feebly
clutches a lance, the napping of whose pennant in his face appears to
give him great annoyance and suggests the services of a "Shoo-fly."
Around him throng the ladies of the Imperial bed-chamber and a cohort of
nurses, who cover his legs with kisses, and then dart furtively between
his horse's _jambes_ as if to escape the pressure of the crowd. Just
beyond these a throng of hucksters, market-women, butchers, bakers,
etc., vociferously urge him to accept their votive offerings of garden
truck, carrots, cabbages, parsnips, haunches of beef, baskets of French
rolls and the like, all of which the Prince proudly declines, whereupon
the vast concourse breaks forth into this wild chant to the air of
BINGEN ON THE RHINE.
      From fountains bright at fair Versailles,
        And gardens of St. Cloud--
      With a rooster of the Gallic breed
        To cock-a-doodle-do--
      Behold! our Prince Imperial comes,
        And in his hands a lance,
      That erst he'll cross with German spears
        For glory and for France.
      They've ta'en his bib and tucker off,
        And set him on a steed;
      That he may ride where soldiers ride,
        And bleed where soldiers bleed.
      They've cut his curls of jetty hair,
        And armed him _cap à pie_,
      Until he looks as fair a knight
        As France could wish to see.
      Ho! ladies of the chamber,
        Ho! nurses, gather near;
      Your _charge_ upon a _charger_ waits
        To shed the parting tear.
      Come! kiss him for his mother,
        _Et pour sa Majesté,_
      And twine his brow with garlands of
        The fadeless _fleurs de lis._
      _Voila!_ who but a few moons gone
        Of babies held the van,
      Now wears his spurs and draws his blade
        Like any other man!
      Then come, ye courtly dames of France,
        Oh! take him to your heart,
      And cheer as only woman can
        Our beardless BONAPARTE;
      For ere another sun shall set,
        Those lips cannot be kissed;
      And through the grove and in the court
        Their prattling will be missed.
      The light that from those soft blue eyes
        Now kindly answers thine,
      Will flash where mighty armies tread,
        Upon the banks of Rhine.
      Yea, hide from him, as best you can,
        All womanly alarms,
      Nor smile with those who mocking cry,
        "Behold! A _babe-in-arms!_"
      A babe indeed! Oh! sland'rous tongues,
        A Prince fresh from his smock,
      Shows _manly_ proof if he can stand
        The battle shout and shock.
      And this is one on whom the gods
        Have put their stamp divine:
      The latest, and perchance the last
        Of Corsica's dread line.
      Then for the Prince Imperial
        _Citoyens_ loudly cheer:
      That his right arm may often bring
        Some German to his _bier_;
      That distant Rhineland, trembling,
        May hear his battle-cry,
      And neutral nations wondering ask,
        "_Oh! how is this far high?_"
Our private dispatches from the seat of war in Europe are very
confusing. The "Seat" appears to be considerably excited, but the "War"
takes things easily, and seems to have "switched off" for an indefinite
time. It is observed by many that there never was a war precisely like
this war, and if it hadn't been for a Dutch female, the Duchess of
Flanders, it is fair to suppose that PUNCHINELLO wouldn't have been out
of pocket so much for cablegrams. The Duchess took it into her head (and
her head appears to have had room for it,) that her blood relative,
LEOPOLD, couldn't get his blood up to accept the Spanish Crown. Well, as
it turned out, the Duchess was right. Anyhow, she went for L., (a letter
by the way, which few Englishman can pronounce in polite society,) and
told him that there was
      "* * * a tide in the affairs of men,
      Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune."
LEOPOLD said he had heard of that tide; but he didn't believe in always
"follerin' on it," no matter what betided. Then the Duchess got up her
Dutch spunk, and spoke out pretty freely, saying as much as if LEOPOLD
were a tame sort of poodle, and that _she_ ought to have been born to
wear breeches, just to show him how a man should act in a great crisis
like the present.
"Just so," says LEOPOLD, "but you see the 'crisis' is what's the matter.
If it wasn't for the 'crisis,' I'd go in for ISABELLA'S old armchair
faster than a hungry pig could root up potatoes." FLANDERS saw at a
glance how the goose hung, and that her bread would all be dough if
something wasn't done, and that quickly. She knew LEOPOLD'S weakness for
Schnapps, when he was a boy at Schiedam, and, producing a bottle of the
Aromatic elixir, with which she had previously armed herself in
expectation of his obstinacy, poured out a glassful and requested him to
clear his voice with it. Fifteen minutes after his vocal organs had been
thus renewed, LEOPOLD was in a condition to see things in an entirely
new light, and hesitated no longer to write the following note to
General PRIM:
Dear PRIM: The thing has been satisfactorily explained to me, and I
accept. Enclosed find a bottle of Schnapps. You never tasted Schnapps
like this. The Duchess says she don't care a cuss for NAP, and that I
mustn't neither.
--LEOPOLD, SIGMARINGEN-HOHENZOLLERN.
This is a veritable account of the origin of the European
"unpleasantness," and can be certified to any one who will call upon us
and examine the original dispatches.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                Are offering at the following                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                    EXTREMELY LOW PRICES,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |          Notwithstanding the large advance in gold,          |
  |                                                              |
  |                   TWO CASES EXTRA QUALITY                    |
  |                                                              |
  |               JAPANESE POPLINS In Silver-Grey                |
  |                     and Ashes of Roses,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |          75 cts. per yard, formerly $1.25 per yard.          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    REAL GAZE DE CHAMBRAY,                    |
  |   Best quality, 75 cts. per yard, formerly $1.80 per yard.   |
  |                                                              |
  |                    A LARGE ASSORTMENT OF                     |
  |                         SUMMER SILKS                         |
  |       For Young Ladies, in Stripes and Checks, $1 per        |
  |       yard, recently sold at $1.50 and $1.75 per yard.       |
  |                                                              |
  |                       HEAVY GROS GRAIN                       |
  |                    Black and White Silks,                    |
  |                         $1 per yard.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                   STRIPED MONGOLIAN SILKS,                   |
  |                  FOR COSTUMES, $1 per yard.                  |
  |            100 Pieces in "American" Black Silks.             |
  |                 (Guaranteed for Durability,)                 |
  |                         $2 per yard.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                   A COMPLETE ASSORTMENT OF                   |
  |                  Trimming Silks and Satins.                  |
  |               Cut Either Straight or Bias, for               |
  |                       $1.25 per yard.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                A CHOICE AND SELECTED STOCK OF                |
  |                  Colored Gros Grain Silks,                   |
  |                 At $2.60 and $2.75 per yard.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |               CREPE DE CHINES, 56 Inchs wide,                |
  |                  IN EVERY REQUISITE COLOR.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                Are closing out their stock of                |
  |                FRENCH, ENGLISH, AND DOMESTIC                 |
  |                           CARPETS,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |            (The greatest portion just received),             |
  |                                                              |
  |           Oil Cloths, Rugs, Mats, Cocoa and Canton           |
  |                        Mattings, &c.,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |               At a Great REDUCTION IN PRICES,                |
  |                                                              |
  |         Notwithstanding the unexpected extraordinary         |
  |                        rise in gold.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |          _Customers and Strangers are Respectfully_          |
  |                     INVITED TO EXAMINE.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. STEWART & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |         Are Closing out all their Popular Stocks of          |
  |                     Summer Dress Goods,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  AT PRICES LOWER THAN EVER.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                    Extraordinary Bargains                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                              in                              |
  |                                                              |
  |            LADIES' PARIS ADD DOMESTIC READY-MADE             |
  |             Suits, Robes, Reception Dresses, &c.             |
  |               Some less than half their cost.                |
  |                                                              |
  |             AND WE WILL DAILY OFFER NOVELTIES IN             |
  |            Plain and Braided Victoria Lawn, Linen            |
  |                 and Pique Travelling Suits.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                 CHILDREN'S BRAIDED LINEN AND                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Pique Garments,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |            SIZES FROM 2 YEARS TO 10 YEARS OF AGE,            |
  |                                                              |
  |                   PANIER BEDOUIN MANTLES,                    |
  |           IN CHOICE COLORS, From $3.50 to $7 each            |
  |                                                              |
  |               Richly Embroidered Cashmere and                |
  |                   Cloth Breakfast Jackets,                   |
  |                         PARIS MADE,                          |
  |                     $8 each and upward.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. STEWART & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
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[Illustration: A PASSAGE FROM CENTRAL PARK.
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A FELLOW COULD PICK IT UP!"]
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  |                                                              |
  |                 THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.                 |
  |                                                              |
  | The New Burlesque Serial, Written expressly for PUNCHINELLO  |
  |                     BY ORPHEUS C. KERR,                      |
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  | Commenced in No. 11, will be continued weekly throughout the |
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  | A sketch of the eminent author written by his bosom friend,  |
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  |                 TICKNOR'S FIELDS, NEW JERSEY                 |
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Vol. 1.    No. 21.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD, By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.
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  |                                                              |
  |                              BY                              |
  |                                                              |
  |          PROF. NOAH PORTER, D.D., OF YALE COLLEGE.           |
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  |                    OPINIONS OF THE BOOK.                     |
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  |                NEW COLLECTION OF YALE SONGS.                 |
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  |                       Just Published.                        |
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  | SONGS OF YALE.--A new Collection of the Songs of Yale, with  |
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  |                                                              |
  |                       ESTABLISHED 1866                       |
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  |      JAS. R. Nichols, M.D., WM. J. Rolfe, A.M., Editors      |
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  |                Address--JOURNAL OF CHEMISTRY,                |
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  |                 150 CONGRESS STREET, BOSTON.                 |
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  |                                                              |
  |                      HENRY L. STEPHENS,                      |
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  |                           ARTIST,                            |
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  |                    No. 160 FULTON STREET,                    |
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  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
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  |                                                              |
  |                       GEO. B. BOWLEND,                       |
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  |                    Draughtsman & Designer                    |
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  |                    No. 160 Fulton Street,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Room No. 11, NEW YORK.                    |
  |                                                              |
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MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.
AN ADAPTATION.
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.
CHAPTER XIV.
CLOVES FOR THREE.
Christmas Eve in Bumsteadville. Christmas Eve all over the world, but
especially where the English language is spoken. No sooner does the
first facetious star wink upon this Eve, than all the English-speaking
millions of this Boston-crowned earth begin casting off their hatreds,
meannesses, uncharities, and Carlyleisms, as a garment, and, in a
beautiful spirit of no objections to anybody, proceed to think what can
be done for the poor in the way of sincerely wishing them well. The
princely merchant, in his counting-room, involuntarily experiences the
softening, humanizing influence of the hour, and, in tones tremulous
with unwonted emotion, privately directs his Chief-Clerk to tell all the
other clerks, that, on this night of all the round year, they may,
before leaving the store at 10 o'clock, take almost any article from
that slightly damaged auction-stock down in the front cellar, at actual
cost-price. This, they are to understand, implies their Employer's
hearty wish of a Merry Christmas to them; and is a sign that, in the
grand spirit of the festal season, he can even forget and forgive those
unnatural leaner entry-clerks who are always whining for more than their
allotted $7 a week. The President of the great railroad corporation, in
the very middle of a growling fit over the extra cost involved in
purchasing his last Legislature, (owing to the fact that some of its
Members had been elected upon a fusion of Radical-Reform and
Honest-Workingman's Tickets,) is suddenly and mysteriously impressed
with the recollection that this is Christmas Eve. "Why, bless my soul,
so it is!" he cries, springing up from his littered rosewood desk like a
boy. "Here, you General Superintendent out there in the office!" sings
he, cheerily, "send some one down to Washington Market this instant, to
find out whether or not any of those luscious anatomical western turkies
that I saw in the barrels this morning are left yet. If the commercial
hotels down-town haven't taken them all, buy every remaining barrel at
once! Not a man nor boy in this Company's service shall go home to-night
without his Christmas dinner in his hand! Lively, now, Mr. JONES! and
just oblige me by picking out one of the birds for yourself, if you can
find one at all less blue than the rest. It's Christmas Eve, sir; and
upon my word I'm really sorry our boys have to work to-morrow as usual.
Ah! it's hard to be poor, JONES! A merry Christmas to us all. Here's my
carriage come for me." And even in returning to their homes from their
daily avocations, on Christmas Eve, how the most grasping, penurious
souls of men will soften to the world's unfortunate! Who is this poor
old lady, looking as though she might be somebody's grandmother, sitting
here by the wayside, shivering, on such an Eve as this? No home to
go?--Relations all dead?--Eaten nothing in two days?--Walked all the way
from the Woman's Rights Bureau in Boston?--Dear me! _can_ there be so
much suffering on Christmas Eve? I must do something for her, or my own
good dinner to-morrow will be a reproach to me. "Here! Policeman! just
take this poor old lady to the Station-House, and give her a good warm
home there until morning. There! cheer-up, Aunty; you're all right
_now._ This gentleman in the uniform has promised to take care of you.
Merry Christmas!"--Or, when at home, and that extremely bony lad, in the
thin summer coat, chatters to you, from the snow on the front-stoop,
about the courage he has taken from Christmas Eve to ask you for enough
to get a meal and a night's-lodging--how differently from your ordinary
style does a something soft in your breast impel you to treat him. "No
work to be obtained?" you say, in a light tone, to cheer him up. "Of
course there's none _here,_ my young friend. All the work here at the
East is for foreigners, in order that they may be used at election-time.
As for you, an American boy, why don't you go to h-- I mean to the West.
_Go West_, young man! Buy a good, stout farming outfit, two or three
serviceable horses, or mules, a portable house made in sections, a few
cattle, a case of fever medicine--and then go out to the far West upon
Government-land. You'd better go to one of the hotels for to-night, and
then purchase Mr. GREELEY'S 'What I Know About Farming,' and start as
soon as the snow permits in the morning. Here are ten cents for you.
Merry Christmas!"--Thus to honor the natal Festival of Him--the
Unselfish incarnate, the Divinely insighted--Who said unto the
lip-server: Sell all that thou hast, and give it to the Poor, and follow
Me; and from Whom the lip-server, having great possessions, went away
exceeding sorrowful!
Three men are to meet at dinner in the Bumsteadian apartments on this
Christmas Eve. How has each one passed the day?
MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON, in his room in Gospeler's Gulch, reads Southern
tragedies in an old copy of the _New Orleans Picayune,_ until two
o'clock, when he hastily tears up all his soiled paper collars, packs a
few things into a travelling satchel, and, with the latter slung over
his shoulder, and a Kehoe's Indian club in his right hand, is met in the
hall by his tutor, the Gospeler.
"What are you doing with that club, Mr. MONTGOMERY?" asks the Reverend
OCTAVIUS, hastily stepping back into a corner.
"I've bought it to exercise with in the open air," answers the young
Southerner, playfully denting the wall just over his tutor's head with
it "After this dinner with Mr. DROOD, at BUMSTEAD'S, I reckon I shall
start on a walking match, and I've procured the club for exercise as I
go. Thus:" He twirls it high in the air, grazes Mr. SIMPSON'S nearer
ear, hits his own head accidentally, and breaks the glass in the
"I see! I see!" says the Gospeler, rather hurriedly. "Perhaps you _had_
better be entirely alone, and in the open country, when you take that
Rubbing his skull quite dismally, the prospective pedestrian goes
straightway to the porch of the Alms-House, and there waits until his
sister comes down in her bonnet and joins him.
"MAGNOLIA," he remarks, hastening to be the first to speak, in order to
have any conversational chance at all with her, "it is not the least
mysterious part of this Mystery of ours, that keeps us all out of doors
so much in the unseasonable winter month of December,[1] and now I am
peculiarly a meteorological martyr in feeling obliged to go walking for
two whole freezing weeks, or until the Holidays and this--this
marriage-business, are over. I didn't tell Mr. SIMPSON, but my real
purpose, I reckon, in having this club, is to save myself, by violent
exercise with it, from perishing of cold."
"Must you do this, MONTGOMERY?" asks his colloquial sister,
thoughtfully. "Perhaps if I were to talk long enough with you--"
"--You'd literally exhaust me into not going? Certainly you would," he
returns, confidently. "First, my head would ache from the constant
noise; then it would spin; then I should grow faint and hear you less
distinctly; then your voice, although you were talking-on the same as
ever, would sound like a mere steady hum to me; then I should become
unconscious, and be carried home, with you still whispering in my ear.
But do _not_ talk, MAGNOLIA; for I must do the walking-match. The
prejudice here against my Southern birth makes me a damper upon the
festivities of others at this general season of forgiveness to all
mankind, and I can't stand the sight of that DROOD and Miss POTTS
together. I'd better stay away until they have gone."
He pauses a moment, and adds: "I wish I were not going to this dinner,
or that I were not carrying this club there."
He shakes her hand and his own head, glances up at the storm-clouds now
gathering in the sky, goes onward to Mr. BUMSTEAD'S boarding-house,
halts at the door a moment to moisten his right hand and balance the
Indian club in it, and then enters.
EDWIN DROOD'S day before merry Christmas is equally hilarious. Now that
the Flowerpot is no longer on his mind, the proneness of the masculine
nature to court misfortune causes him to think seriously of Miss
PENDRAGON, and wonder whether _she_ would make a wife to ruin a man? It
will be rather awkward, he thinks, to be in Bumsteadville for a week or
two after the Macassar young ladies shall have heard of his matrimonial
disengagement, as they will all be sure to sit symmetrically at every
front window in the Alms-House whenever he tries to go by; and he
resolves to escape the danger by starting for Egypt, Illinois,
immediately after he has seen Mr. DIBBLE and explained the situation to
him. Finding that his watch has run down, he steps into a jeweler's to
have it wound, and is at once subjected to insinuating overtures by the
man of genius. What does he think of this ring, which is exactly the
thing for some particular Occasions in Life? It is made of the metal for
which nearly all young couples marry now-a-days, is as endless as their
disagreements, and, by the new process, can be stretched to fit the
Second wife's hand, also. Or look at this pearl set. Very chaste, really
soothing; intended as a present from a Husband after First Quarrel.
These cameo ear-rings were never known to fail. Judiciously presented,
in a velvet case, they may be depended upon to at once divert a young
Wife from Returning to her Mother, as she has threatened. Ah! Mr. DROOD
cares for no more jewelry than his watch, chain and seal-ring? To be
sure! when Mr. BUMSTEAD was in yesterday for the regular daily new
crystal in his own watch--how _does_ he break so many!--_he_ said that
his beloved nephews wore only watches and rings, or he would buy paste
breastpins for them. Your oroide is now wound up, Mr. DROOD, and set at
twenty minutes past Two.
"Dear old JACK!" thinks EDWIN to himself, pocketing his watch as he
walks away; "he thinks just twice as much of me as any one else in the
world, and I should feel doubly grateful."
As dusk draws on, the young fellow, returning from a long walk, espies
an aged Irish lady leaning against a tree on the edge of the turnpike,
with a pipe upside-down in her mouth, and her bonnet on
wrong-side-afore.
"Are you sick?" he asks kindly.
"Divil a sick, gintlemen," is the answer, with a slight catch of the
voice,--"bless the two of yez!"
EDWIN DROOD can scarcely avoid a start, as he thinks to himself, "Good
Heaven! how much like JACK!"
"Do you eat cloves, madame?" he asks, respectfully.
"Cloves is it, honey? ah, thin, I do that, whin I'm expectin' company.
Odether-nodether, but I've come here the day from New York for nothing.
Sure phat's the names of you two darlints?"
"EDWIN," he answers, in some wonder, as he hands her a currency stamp,
which, on account of the large hole worn in it, he has been repeatedly
unable to pass himself.
"EDDY is it? Och hone, och hone, machree!" exclaims the venerable woman,
hanging desolately around the tree by her arms while her bonnet falls
over her left ear: "I've heard that name threatened. Och, acushla
Believing that the matron will be less agitated if left alone, and,
probably, able to get a little roadside sleep, EDWIN DROOD passes onward
in deep thought. The boarding-house is reached, and _he_ enters.
J. BUMSTEAD'S day of the dinner is also marked by exhilarating
experiences. With one coat-tail unwittingly tucked far up his back, so
that it seems to be amputated, and his alpaca umbrella under his arm, he
enters a grocery-store of the village, and abstractedly asks how
strawberries are selling to-day? Upon being reminded that fresh fruit is
very scarce in late December, he changes his purpose, and orders two
bottles of Bourbon flavoring-extract sent to his address. And now he
wishes to know what they are charging for sponges? They tell him that he
must seek those articles at the druggist's, and he compromises by
requesting that four lemons be forwarded to his residence. Have they any
good Canton-flannel, suitable for a person of medium complexion?--
No?--Very well, then: send half a pound of cloves to his house before
There are Ritualistic services at Saint Cow's, and he renders the
organ-accompaniments with such unusual freedom from reminiscences of the
bacchanalian repertory, that the Gospeler is impelled to compliment him
as they leave the cathedral.
"You're in fine tone to-day, BUMSTEAD. Not quite so much volume to your
playing as sometimes, but still the tune could be recognized."
"That, sir," answers the organist, explainingly, "was because I held my
right wrist firmly with my left hand, and played mostly with only one
finger. The method, I find, secures steadiness of touch and precision in
hitting the right key."
"I should think it would, Mr. BUMSTEAD. You seem to be more free than
ordinarily from your occasional indisposition."
"I am less nervous, Mr. SIMPSON," is the reply. "I've made up my mind to
swear off, sir.--I'll tell you what I'll do, SIMPSON," continues the
Ritualistic organist, with sudden confidential affability. "I'll make an
agreement with you, that whichever of us catches the other slipping-up
first in the New Year, shall be entitled to call for whatever he wants."
"Bless me! I don't understand," ejaculates the Gospeler.
"No matter, sir. No matter!" retorts the mystic of the organ-loft,
abruptly returning to his original gloom. "My company awaits me, and I
"Excuse me," cries the Gospeler, turning back a moment; "but what's the
matter with your coat?"
The other discovers the condition of his tucked-up coat-tail with some
fierceness of aspect, but immediately explains that it must have been
caused by his sitting upon a folding-chair just before leaving home.
So, humming a savage tune in make-belief of no embarrassment at all in
regard to his recently disordered garment, Mr. BUMSTEAD reaches his
boarding-house. At the door he waits long enough to examine his
umbrella, with scowling scrutiny, in every rib; and then _he_ enters.
Behind the red window-curtain of the room of the dinner-party shines the
light all night, while before it a wailing December gale rises higher
and higher. Through leafless branches, under eaves and against chimneys,
the savage wings of the storm are beaten, its long fingers caught, and
its giant shoulder heaved. Still, while nothing else seems steady, that
light behind the red curtain burns unextinguished; the reason being that
the window is closed and the wind cannot get at it.
At morning comes a hush on nature; the sun arises with that innocent
expression of countenance which causes some persons to fancy that it
resembles Mr. GREELEY after shaving; and there is an evident desire on
the part of the wind to pretend that it has not been up all night.
Fallen chimnies, however, expose the airy fraud, and the clock blown
completely out of Saint Cow's steeple reveals what a high time there has
Christmas morning though it is, Mr. MCLAUGHLIN is summoned from his
family-circle of pigs, to mount the Ritualistic church and see what can
be done; and while a small throng of early idlers are staring up at him
from Gospeler's Gulch, Mr. BUMSTEAD, with his coat on in the wrong way,
and a wet towel on his head, comes tearing in amongst them like a
congreve rocket.
"Where's them nephews?--where's MONTGOMERIES?--where's that umbrella?"
howls Mr. BUMSTEAD, catching the first man he sees by the throat, and
driving his hat over his eyes.
"What's the matter, for goodness sake?" calls the Gospeler from the
window of his house. "Mr. PENDRAGON has gone away on a walking-match. Is
not Mr. DROOD at home with you?"
"Norrabit'v it," pants the organist, releasing his man's throat, but
still leaning with heavy affection upon him: "m'nephews wen 'out with 'm
--f'r li'lle walk--er mir'night; an' 've norseen'm--since."
There is no more looking up at Saint Cow's steeple with a MCLAUGHLIN on
it now. All eyes fix upon the agitated Mr. BUMSTEAD, as he wildly
attempts to step over the tall paling of the Gospeler's fence at a
stride, and goes crashing headlong through it instead.
(_To be Continued_.)
[Footnote 1: In the original English story there is, considering the
bitter time of year given, a truly extraordinary amount of solitary
sauntering, social strolling, confidential confabulating,
evening-rambling, and general lingering, in the open air. To "adapt"
this novel peculiarity to American practice, without some little
violation of probability, is what the present conscientious Adapter
finds almost the artistic requirement of his task.]
       *       *       *       *       *
The most fearful weapon yet brought into the field of war--if we are to
believe newspaper correspondents--is the revolving grape-shot gun known
as the "hail-thrower," a piece of ordnance said to be in use by the
French and Prussian armies, alike. If half we hear about the
"hail-thrower" be true, 'twere better for all concerned to keep out of
hail of it. Many a hale fellow well met by that fearful hail storm must
go to grass ere the red glare of the war has passed away. "Where do you
hail from?" would be a bootless question to put when the "hail-thrower"
begins to administer throes to the breaking ranks. Worse than that; it
would probably be a headless question.
       *       *       *       *       *
"THE PERFECT CURE."
A newspaper paragraph states that, in Minnesota, they have a very
summary way of restoring the consciousness of pigs that have been
smitten by the summery rays of the sun. They simply open piggy's head
with a pick-axe or other handy instrument, introduce a handful or two of
salt, close up the head again, and piggy is all right. But this, after
all, is simply a new application of the old practice of Curing pork with
       *       *       *       *       *
Con by a Son of a Gun.
Why are the new breech-loaders supplied with needles?
To keep their breeches in repair, of course.
       *       *       *       *       *
Con by a Carpet-Shaker.
Why is a large carpet like the late rebellion?
Because it took such a lot of tax to put it down.
       *       *       *       *       *
ADVICE TO PICNIC PARTIES.
At this culminating period of the summer season, it is natural that the
civic mind should turn itself to the contemplation of sweet rural
things, including shady groves, lunch-baskets, wild flowers, sandwiches,
bird songs, and bottled lager-bier.
The skies are at their bluest, now; the woods and fields are at their
greenest; flowers are blooming their yellowest, and purplest, and
scarletest. All Nature is smiling, in fact, with one large,
comprehensive smile, exactly like a first-class PRANG chromo with a
fresh coat of varnish upon it.
Things being thus, what can be more charming than a rural excursion to
some tangled thicket, the very brambles, and poison-ivy, and possible
copperhead snakes of which are points of unspeakable value to a picnic
party, because they are sensational, and one cannot have them in the
city without rushing into fabulous extra expense. It is good, then, that
neighbors should club together for the festive purposes of the picnic,
and a few words of advice regarding the arrangement of such parties may
be seasonable.
If your excursion includes a steamboat trip, always select a boat that
is likely to be crowded to its utmost capacity, more especially one of
which a majority of the passengers are babies in arms. There will
probably be some roughs on board, who will be certain to get up a row,
in which case you can make the babies in arms very effective as
"buffers" for warding off blows, while the crowd will save you from
being knocked down.
Should there be a bar on board the steamer, it will be the duty of the
gentlemen of the party to keep serving the ladies with cool beverages
from it at brief intervals during the trip. This will promote
cheerfulness, and, at the same time, save for picnic duty proper the
contents of the stone jars that are slumbering sweetly among the
pork-pies and apple-dumplings by which the lunch-baskets are occupied.
Never take more than one knife and fork with you to a picnic, no matter
how large the party may be. The probability is that you may be attacked
by a gang of rowdies and it is no part of your business to furnish them
with weapons.
Avoid taking up your ground near a swamp or stagnant water of any kind.
This is not so much on account of mosquitoes as because of the small
saurian reptiles that abound in such places. If your party is a large
one, there will certainly be one lady in it, at least, who has had a
lizard in her stomach for several years, and the struggles of the
confined reptile to join its congeners in the swamp might induce
convulsions, and so mar the hilarity of the party.
To provide against an attack by the city brigands who are always
prowling in the vicinity of picnic parties, it will be judicious to
attend to the following rules:
Select all the fat women of the party, and seat them in a ring outside
the rest of the picnickers, and with their faces toward the centre of
the circle. In the event of a discharge of missiles this will be found a
very effective _cordon_--quite as effective, in fact, as the feather
beds used in the making up of barricades.
Let the babies of the party be so distributed that each, or as many as
possible of the gentlemen present, can have one at hand to snatch up and
use for a fender should an attack at close quarters be made.
If any dark, designful strangers should intrude themselves upon the
party, unbidden, the gentlemen present should by no means exhibit the
slightest disposition to resent the intrusion, or to show fight, as the
strangers are sure to be professional thieves, and, as such, ready to
commit murder, if necessary. Treat the strangers with every
consideration possible under the circumstances. Should there be no
champagne, apologize for the absence of it, and offer the next best
vintage you happen to have. Of course, having lunched, the strangers
will be eager to acquire possession of all valuables belonging to the
party. The gentlemen, therefore, will make a point of promptly handing
over to them their own watches and jewelry, as well as those of their
lady friends.
Having arrived home, (we assume the possibility of this,) refrain,
carefully, from communicating with the police on the subject of the
events of the day. The publicity that would follow would render you an
object of derision, and no possible good could result to you from
disclosure of the facts. But you should at once make up your mind never
to participate in another picnic.
       *       *       *       *       *
A CHANCE FOR OUR ORGAN GRINDERS.
The famous _mitrailleur_, or grape-thrower, with which LOUIS NAPOLEON
has already commenced to astonish the Prussians, suggests congenial work
for the numerous performers on the barrel-organ with which our large
cities are at all times infested. It is worked with a crank, exactly
after the manner of the too-familiar street instrument; and might easily
be fitted with a musical cylinder arranged for the performance of the
most inspiriting and patriotic French airs. Should Italy, at present
neutral, take side with France hereafter, she should at once withdraw
her wandering minstrels from all parts of the world, and set them to
work on the "double attachment" engine of L.N. Nothing could be more
appropriate for working the _mitrailleur_ than a corps of barrel-organ
grinders from the land of the Grape.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE ORIGIN OF PUNCHINELLO.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: Though aware that you "belong to Company G," and must
not be bothered, I wish to ask whether you are descended from the famous
chicken-dealer of Sorrento, who sold fowls in Naples, and was well-known
in that fun-loving city for the humor of his speech and the oddity of
his form. He was called "PULCINELLA," I believe, the name being the same
as that of his wares.
If not to this celebrated wag, perhaps you trace your origin to Mr.
PUCCIO D'ANELLO, who so delighted a company of actors at Aceria, with
his jokes and gibes, that they invited him to join them, and soon
discovered that they had found a Star.
If neither of these classical wags was your ancestor, may I ask, who the
deuce _did_ you come from? Yours, truly,
       *       *       *       *       *
RECIPE TO BE TESTED.
We see that they have been "firing cannon in the fields near Paris, to
bring on a rain." If there is any virtue in this recipe, they are likely
to get some moist weather to the north-eastward of Paris, to say the
least. The firing in that quarter may even lead to a Reign in Paris such
as France has not lately seen. We would not go so far as to _predict_
anything of this sort. Oh, no; for we are aware that the moment we
should do so, NAPOLEON would lick the Prussians on purpose to show the
world that we didn't hit it that time.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE WATERING PLACES.
Punchinello's Vacations.
When one wants to see the great people who are to be seen nowhere else,
one goes to the celebrated White Sulphur Springs of Virginia; and, very
correctly supposing that there might be persons there who would like to
see him, Mr. PUNCHINELLO took a trip to the aforesaid springs. He found
it charming there. There was such a chance to study character. From the
parlors where Chief-Justice CHASE and General LEE were hob-nobbing over
apple-toddies and "peach-and-honey," to the cabins where the wards of
the nation were luxuriating in picturesque ease beneath the shade of
their newly-fledged angel of liberty, everything was instructive to the
well-balanced mind.
Here, too, in these fertile regions, were to be seen those exquisite
floral creations known as mint-juleps, the absence of which in our
Northern agricultural exhibitions can never be sufficiently deplored.
Witness the beauty of the design and the ingenious delicacy of the
execution of one of the humblest of the species.
From experience in the matter, Mr. P. is prepared to say, that not only
as an exponent of the beauties of nature, but as a drink, a mint-julep
is far superior to the water which gives thin resort its celebrity. Why
people persist in drinking that vilest of all water which is found at
the fashionable springs, Mr. P. cannot divine. If it is medicine you
want, you can get your drugs at any apothecary's, and he will mix them
in water for you for a very small sum extra. And the saving in expense
of travel, board and extras, will be enormous.
But in spite of this fact, there were plenty of distinguished-looking
people at the White Sulphur. Mr. P. didn't know them all, but he had no
doubt that one of them was General LEE; one PHIL. SHERIDAN; another
Prof. MAURY; another GOLDWIN SMITH; and others Governor WISE; HENRY WARD
BEECHER, WADE HAMPTON, WENDELL PHILLIPS, RAPHAEL SEMMES, and LUCRETIA
MOTT. One man, an incognito, excited Mr. P.'s curiosity. This personage
was generally found in the society of LEE, JOHNSTON, POPE, HAMPTON,
GREELEY, and those other fellows who did so much to injure the Union
cause during the war. One day Mr. P. accosted him. He was an oddity, and
perhaps it would be a good idea to put his picture in the paper.
"Sir!" said Mr. P., with that delicate consideration for which he is so
noted, "why do you pull your hat down over your eyes, and what is your
object in thus concealing your identity? Come sir! let us know what it
The _incognito_ glanced at Mr. P. with the corner of his eye, and
perceiving that he was in citizen's dress, pulled his hat still further
over his face.
"My business," said he, "is my own, but since the subject has been
broached, I may as well let _you_ know what it is."
"You know me, then?" said Mr. P.
"I do," replied the other, and proceeding with his recital, he said,
"You may have heard that a number of negro squatters were lately ejected
from a private estate in this State, after they had made the grounds to
blossom like the rose, and to bring forth like the herring."
"Yes, I heard that," said Mr. P.
"Well," said the other, "I happened to have some land near by, and I
invited those negroes to come and squat on my premises--"
"Intending to turn them off about blossoming time?" said Mr. P.
"Certainly, certainly," said the other, "and I am just waiting about
here until they put in a wheat crop on part of the land. I can then sell
that portion, right away."
"Well, Mr. BEN BUTLER," said Mr. P., "all that is easily understood, now
that I know who you are; but tell me this, why are you so careful to
cover your face when in the company of civilians or ladies, and yet go
about so freely among these ex-Confederate officers?"
"Oh," said the other, "you see I don't want to be known down here, and
some of the women or old men might remember my face. There's no danger
of any of the soldiers recognizing me, you know."
"Oh, no," cried Mr. P. "None in the world, sir."
"And besides," said the modest BUTLER, "it's too late now for me to be
spooning around among the women."
"That's so," said Mr. P. "Good-bye, BENJAMIN. Any news from Dominica?"
"None at all," said the other, "and I don't care if there never is. I am
opposed to that annexation scheme now."
"Sold your claims?" said Mr. P. The incognito winked and departed.
That evening at supper Mr. P. remarked that his biscuits were rather
hard, and he blandly requested a waiter to take one of them outside and
crack it. The elder PEYTON, who runs the hotel, overheard Mr. P.'s
remark, and stepping up to him, said:
"Sir, you should not be so particular about your food. What you pay me,
while you stay at my place, is my charge for the water you drink. The
food and lodging I throw in, gratis."
Mr. P. arose.
"Mr. PEYTON," said he, "when I was quite a little boy, my father, making
the tour of America, brought me here, and I distinctly remember your
making that remark to him. Since then many of my friends have visited
the White Sulphur, and you invariably made the same remark to them. Is
there no way to escape the venerable joke?"
The gentle PEYTON made no answer, but walked away, and after supper, one
of the boarders took Mr. P. aside and urged him to excuse their host, as
he was obliged to make the joke in question to every guest. The
obligation was in his lease.
So the matter blew over.
Reflecting, however, that if he had to pay so much for the water, that
he had better drink a little, Mr. P. went down to the spring to see what
could be done. On the way, he met Uncle AARON, formerly one of
WASHINGTON'S body-servants. The venerable patriarch touched his hat, and
Mr. P., hoping from such great age to gain a little wisdom, propounded
the following questions:
"Uncle, is this water good for the bile?"
"Oh, lor! no, mah'sr! Dat dar water 'ud jis spile anything you biled in
it. Make it taste of rotten eggs, for all the world, sir! 'Deed it
"But what I want to know," said Mr. P., "is why the people drink it."
"Lor' bless you, mah'sr! Dis here chile kin tell you dat. Ye see de
gem'men from de Norf dey drinks it bekase they eat so much cold wheat
bread. Allers makes 'em sick, sir."
"And why do the Southerners drink it?"
"Wal, mah'sr, you see dey eats so much hot wheat bread, and it don't
agree wid 'em, no how."
"But how about the colored people? I have seen them drinking it,
frequently," said Mr. P.
"Oh, lor, mah'sr, how you is a askin' questions! Don't you know dat de
colored folks hab to drink it bekase dey don't get no wheat bread at
Mr. P. heard no better philosophy than this on the subject while he
remained at the White Sulphur. When he left, he brought a couple of
gallons of the water with him, and intends keeping it in the
water-cooler in his office, for loungers.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE POEMS OF THE CRADLE.
      "JACK and GILL went up the bill
      To fetch a pail of water;
      JACK fell down and broke his crown,
      And GILL came tumbling after."
How many persons there are who read those lines without giving one
moment's thought to their hidden beauty. Love, obedience, and devotion
unto death, are here portrayed; and yet people will repeat the lines of
the melancholy muse with a smile on their faces, and even teach it to
their young children as a sort of joyful lyric.
My own infant-mind was tampered with in the same manner; and after I had
committed the poem to memory I was proudly called up by my fond and
doting parents to display my infantile acquirements before admiring
visitors. The result might have been foreknown. All my infancy and youth
passed away, and I never once perceived the hidden worth of these lines
till I had tumbled down a hill myself, cracked my crown, and was laid up
with it a week or more. During that time I had leisure to muse on the
fate of poor JACK. When my mind expanded so as to take in all the
sublimity of his devotion and death, my heart was filled with admiration
and astonishment, and I resolved I would make one effort to rescue the
memory of poor JACK and loving GILL from the oblivion it seemed to be
falling into, in the greater admiration people gave to the musical style
of the writer.
      "JACK and GILL went up the hill."
Here you see the obedient, loving, long-suffering, put-upon drudge of
his brothers and sisters-we will take the liberty of giving him a few of
each as we are a little more generous than the author--who was compelled
(not the author, but JACK,) to do all the chores, fetch and carry, 'tend
and wait, bear the heat and burden of the day, and be the JACK for all
of them. He was not dignified by the respectable title of JOHN, or
JONATHAN, but was poor simple JACK.
Virtue will always be rewarded, however, and even freckle-faced,
red-headed JACK had one friend, blue-eyed, tender-hearted GILL, who,
seeing the unhesitating obedience he rendered to all, forthwith
concluded that one so lone and sad could appreciate true friendship and
understand the motives that prompted her to give, unsolicited, her
gushing love. So, when the good JACK started up the hill, loving GILL
generously offered to accompany him. Probably the other children looked
out of the windows after them, and laughed, and jeered, and wondered
whither they were going; but, observing the pail, concluded they were
      "To fetch a pail of water,"
which they were willing JACK should do, as it would save them the
possibility of being ordered to do it; not that there was a probability
of such a command being given, but there was a slight danger that the
thing might happen in case JACK was occupied otherwise when the water
was needed. But now that he had gone for it, they were all right, and
rejoiced exceedingly thereat.
Meanwhile the two little sympathizing companions toiled up the steep
hill, drinking in with every inhalation of the balmy air copious
draughts of the new-found elixir of life. "Soft eyes looked love to eyes
that spake again,"[2] and their hearts melted beneath each tender glance.
The little chubby hands that grasped the handle of the pail timidly
crept closer together, and by the time they had reached the rugged top,
it needed but one warm embrace to mingle the two souls into one,
henceforth forever.
This was done.
Tremblingly they drew back, blushing, casting modest glances at each
other; and then, to aid them in recovering from their confusion, turned
their attention to the water, which reflected back two happy, smiling
faces. Filling the pail with the dimpled liquid mirror, they turned
their steps homeward.
Light at heart and intoxicated with bliss, poor JACK, ever unfortunate,
dashed his foot against a stone, and thus it was that
      "JACK fell down and broke his crown."
[Oh! what a fall was there, my countrywomen!] Fearful were the shrieks
that rent the mountain air as he rolled down the hillside. The pail they
had carried so carefully was overturned and rent asunder, and the
trembling water spilled upon the smiling hill-side--fit emblem of their
vanishing hopes.
Down went the roley-poley boy, like a dumpling down a cellar-door;
crashing his head against the cruel rocks that stood in stony
heartedness in his way, and dashing his brains out against their hard
sides. His loving companion, eyes and month dilated with horror, stood
still and rigid, gazing upon the fearful descent, and its tragic ending,
then throwing her arms aloft, and giving a fearful shriek of agony that
thrilled with horror the hearts of the hearers--if there were any--cast
herself down in exact imitation of the fall of her hero, rolled over and
over as he did, and ended by mingling her blood with his upon the same
_His_ crown was broken diagonally; _hers_ slantindicularly; that was the
only difference. Her suicidal act is commemorated in the line,
      "And GILL came tumbling after."
The catastrophe was witnessed by the assembled family, who hastened to
the bleeding victims of parental injustice, and endeavored to do all
that was possible to restore life to the mangled forms of the two who
loved when living, and in death were not divided.
But all in vain. They were dead, and not till then did the family
appreciate the beautiful, self-denying, heroic disposition of the little
martyr, JACK.
The two innocent forms were buried side by side, and the whole country
round mourned the fate of the infant lovers.
Painters preserved their pictures on canvas, and poets sung them at
eventide. The beauties of their life, and their tragic death, were given
by the poet-laureate of the day in the words I have just transcribed;
and such an impression did these make on the minds of the inhabitants,
that the whole population took them to heart, and, with tears in their
eyes, taught them to their children, even unto the third and fourth
generations.
Alas! it was reserved for our day and generation to gabble them over
unthinking, carelessly unmindful of the fearful fate the words describe.
Repentant ones, drop to their memory a tear, even now! It is not too
[Footnote 2: Original, by some other fellow.]
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration:
WHAT WE MAY EXPECT IN OUR ARMY OF THE FUTURE.
"NONE BUT THE BRAVE," ETC.]
       *       *       *       *       *
LETTER FROM A CROAKER.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: You have not, I believe, informed your readers, one of
whom I have the honor to be, as to whether you have yet united yourself
to any Designing Female. As this is a matter peculiarly interesting to
many of your readers, all of whom, I have not the least doubt, are
interested in your welfare, I would advise some statement on your part,
respecting it.
I trust, my dear sir, that, if you are as yet free, you will take the
well-intended advice of a sufferer, and steer entirely clear of the
shoals and quicksands peculiar to the life of a married man, by never
embarking in the matrimonial ship.
Do not misunderstand me. I lived happily, very happily, with my sainted
BELINDA--it must be confessed that she had a striking partiality for
sardines, which caused considerable of a decrease in the profits of my
wholesale and retail grocery establishment. I cherish no resentment on
that account, but, as you probably well know, one of the discomforts of
matrimonial existence is children.
Sir, I have a daughter, who is considered passably good-looking by
certain appreciative individuals. Since the unfortunate demise of my
lamented wife, the profits of the mercantile establishment of which I am
proprietor have largely increased, and as REBECCA is my only child,
there is a considerable prospect of her bringing to the man who espouses
her, a comfortable dowry, and probably a share in my business.
I keep no man-servant, and after my daughter retires--generally at the
witching hour of two in the morning,--I am obliged to hobble down
stairs, extinguish the lights, cover the fire, lock up the house, and
ascertain whether it is perfectly fire and burglar-proof for the time
Were this, sir, the only annoyance to which I am subjected, my wrath
would probably expend itself in a little growling, but hardly have I
reposed myself upon my couch, ere my ear catches an infernal tooting and
twanging and whispering, and a broken-winded German band, engaged by an
admirer of my REBECCA, strikes up some outrageous _pot pourri_, or
something of that sort, and sleep, disgusted, flees my pillow.
Last night--or rather this morning--they came again. Their discordant
symphonies roused me to desperation. I seized a bucket of slops, and;
opening the window, dashed the contents in the direction of the music;
the full force of the deluge striking a fat, froggy-looking little
Dutchman, who was puffing and blowing at a bassoon infinitely larger
than himself. He was just launching out into a prodigious strain, but it
expired while yet in the bloom of youth. He remained for a short time in
the famous posture of the Colossus of Rhodes, vainly endeavoring to
shake off the cigar-stumps and other little _et ceteras_ which were
clinging to him like cerements, uttering the while unintelligible oaths.
Then he struck for his _domus et placens uxor_ at as rapid a rate as his
little dumpy legs could carry him.
If they come to-night--if they dare to come--I will give them a dose
which they will remember.
My dear sir, what can I do to rid myself of these annoyances? The girl
has been to boarding-school, and so can't be sent there again. She has
no friends or relations whom it would be advisable to put her off upon.
Assist me then, in this, the hour of my tribulation, and you, my dear
Mr. PUNCHINELLO, will merit the lasting gratitude of an
UNHAPPY FATHER.
[The best thing an "Unhappy Father" can do, under the circumstances, is
to learn to play upon the bass horn, and then, should the brazen
serenaders again make their appearance, he can give them blow for
blow.--ED. PUNCHINELLO.]
       *       *       *       *       *
That Iron "Dog."
The latest bit of intelligence given by the police regarding the "dog"
so much spoken of in connection with the Twenty-third street murder, is
that it is not, as at first stated, the kind of instrument used by
shipwrights. In other words, the police have discovered that it is not a
Water-dog, though, up to the present date, they have not been able to
prove it a Bloodhound.
       *       *       *       *       *
Severe Penalty.
A newspaper gravely informs us that "the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania
has refused the Writ of Error in the case of Dr. SHOEPPE, convicted of
the murder of Mr. STEINNEKE, _and will be hanged_."
Can nothing be done to save this Court? One may say they had no business
to refuse the Writ. But, at any rate, we are of opinion that the
punishment is excessive.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: WONDERFUL TOUR DE FORCE,
PERFORMED "ON THE BEACH AT LONG BEACH," BY PROFESSOR JAMES FISK, JR.,
THE GREAT AMERICAN ATHLETE.]
       *       *       *       *       *
HIRAM GREEN ON JERSEY MUSQUITOES.
A Hard-fought Battle--Musquitoes have no Sting that Jersey Lightning
cannot Cure.
New Jarsey is noted among her sister countries, as bein' responsible for
2 of the most destructive things ever got up.
The first is of the animal kingdom, and varyin in size from a 3 yeer old
snappin' turtle, to a lode of hay.
It has a bayonet its nose, in which is a skwirt gun charged with
It has no hesitation, whatsoever, of shovin' it's pitch-fork into a
human bein', and when a feller feels it, it makes him think old
SOLFERINO has come for him, and no mistake.
The sirname of this sleep-distroyin' animile, is Muskeeter. And they
like their meet raw.
Misery Number 2 is a beverige manufactured from the compound extract of
chain litenin on the wing, and ile of vitril. It is then flavored with
earysipelas and 7 yeer itch, when it is ready to lay out it's man.
I was on a visit to Jarsey, a short time ago, and if ever a man was
justified in cussin' the day he ever sot foot onto the classick red
shores of New Jarsey, (which soil, by the way, is so greasy that all the
red-headed New Jarsey gals use it for hair ile, while for greasin' a
pancake griddle it can't be beat,) it was the undersined.
The first nite I was in that furrin climb, after hangin' my close over a
chair, and droppin' my false teeth in a tumbler of water, I retired in a
sober and morril condition.
"Balmy sleep, sweet nater's hair restorer," which sentiment I cote from
Mr. DICKENS, who, I understand from the Bosting clergy, is now sizzlin',
haden't yet folded me in her embrace.
Strains of melody, surpassin' by severil lengths the melifflous
discordant notes of the one-armed hand organist's most sublimerest
seemfunny, sircharged the atmosfear. Ever and anon the red-hot breezes
kissed the honest old man's innocent cheek, and slobbered grate capsules
of odoriferous moisture, which ran in little silvery streams from his
reclinin' form. Yes! verily, great pearls hung pendant from his nasal
protuberants.
In other words, I hadent gone to sleep, but lay their sweatin' like an
ice waggon, while the well-known battle song of famished Muskeeters fell
onto my ear. The music seized; and a regiment of Jarsey Muskeeters, all
armed to the teeth and wearin' cowhide butes, marched single-file into
my open window.
The Kernal, a gray-headed old war-worn vetenary, alited from his hoss,
and tide the animal to the bed-post.
The Commander then mounted ontop of the wash-stand, and helpin' hisself
to a chaw of tobacker out of my box, which lay aside him, the old
scoundrel commenced firin' his tobacker juice in my new white hat. "See
here, Kernal," said I, somewhat riled at seein' him make a spittoon of
my best 'stove-pipe,' "if it's all the same to you, spose'n you eject
your vile secretion out of the winder."
"Cork up, old man," said the impudent raskle, "or ile spit on ye and
All about the room the privates were sacreligously misusing my property.
One red-headed old Muskeeter, who was so full of somebody's blood he
couldn't hardly waddle, was seated in the rockin'-chair, and with my
specturcols on his nose, was readin' a copy of PUNCHINELLO, and laffin'
as if heed bust.
Another chap had got my jack-nife, and was amusin' hisself by slashin'
holes in my bloo cotton umbreller, which two other Muskeeters had shoved
up, and was a settin' under, engaged in tyin' my panterloon legs into
Another scallawag had jammed my coat part way into my butes, and was
pourin' water into 'em out from the wash-pitcher, and I am sorry to say
it, evry darned Muskeeter was up to some mean trick, which would put to
blush, even a member of the New Jarsey legislater.
Suddenly the Kernal hollered:
And every Muskeeter fell into line about my bedside.
"Charge bagonets!" said the Kernal. At which the hul lot went for me.
Their pizened wepins entered my flesh.
They charged onto my bald head. Rammed their bayonets into my arms--my
back--my side--and there wasen't a place bigger'n a cent, which they
diden't fill with pizen.
There I lay, groanin' for mercy.
But Jersey Muskeeters, not dealin' in that article, don't know what it
Like the new collecter MURFY, when choppin' off the heads of FENTON
offis holders, mercy hain't their lay, about these times.
At this juncture a company of draggoons clinchin' their pesky bills into
me, dragged me off onto the floor.
And then such a horrible laff they would give, when I would strike for
them and miss hittin'.
There I lay on the floor, puffin' and blowin' like a steem ingine, while
the hull army was dancin' a war dance around my prostrate figger, and
the old Kernal was cuttin' down a double shuffle on the wash-stand,
which made the crockery rattle.
I kicked at 'em as they would charge on my feet and l--limbs. I grabbed
at 'em, as they charged on my face--arms--and shoulders.
Slap! bang! kick! sware!
I couldn't stand it much longer.
As a big corpulent feller, who, I should judge, was gittin' readdy to
jine a Fat mans club, went over me, I catched him by the heel.
I hung on to him with my best holt
He dragged me all over the floor.
My head struck the bedposts, and other furniture.
3 other Muskeeters got straddle of me, and as if I was a hoss, spurred
me up purty lively.
All of a sudden the Muskeeter I was hangin' to give a yank, and drew out
his foot, left his bute in my hand.
Brandishin' the bute about my head, I cleared at lot of Muskeeters.
Jumpin' to my feet I made things fly for a minuit, pilin' up the killed
and wounded in a promiscous heap.
Seein' the Kernal settin' up there enjoyin' the fun, I let fly the bute
Smash! went the lookin-glass.
The venerable commanding Muskeeter had dodged, and was settin' on the
burow, with his thumb on his nose, wrigglin' his fingers at me in a very
ongentlemanly manner.
There I was again unarmed, dancin' about, swelled up like a base ball
player on match day.
"Blood IARGO!" was the cry.
I tride to make a masked battery with a piller. It was no protection
again Jarsey Muskeeters.
As RACHEL mourned for her step-mother, I sighed for me home.
"Why, oh why," I cride, "did I leave old Skeensboro?"
A widder wearin' a borrowed suit of mornin'--eleven children cryin'
because the governor had been chawed up by Muskeeters crowded into my
The army was gettin' reddy to charge onto me agin, and avenge their
fallen comrags.
Suddenly a brite thought struck me.
I ceased a sheet and waved it for a flag of truce.
The order wasen't given.
"Kernal," said I, "before we continue this fite, let's take a drink all
around, and I'll stand treat."
"Done," said he, "trot out your benzine."
I opened the burow drawer, and took out a black bottle.
I pulled the cork and filled all the glasses, then poured a lot into the
wash-bowl, when I handed the bottle to the Kernal.
"Make ready! Take aim! Drink!" Down went the licker.
I laffed a revengeful laff, as every condemned Muskeeter turned up their
heels and cride:
"Water--send my bones back to Chiny--mother dear, I'm comein', 300,000
strong--we die--by the hand--of Jarsey--lite--"
And Jarsey litenin', more powerful than the chassepo gun of France or
the needle-gun of Prushy, had done its work, and the old man was saved
to the world!
It was 3 days before any close would again fit me.
I looked more like a big balloon than a human bein', I was swelled up so
with the pizen.
My blessin's on the head of the individual who invented Jarsey litenin'.
Nothin else would have saved the Lait Gustise's valuable life.
Ever of thow,
HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,
_Lait Gustise of the Peece._
       *       *       *       *       *
From our own Correspondent.
Rumors of war from Europe must always be expected, for how can we get
Pacific news by Atlantic Telegraph?
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: "WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS," ETC,
_First Small Bather_. "WOULDN'T OUR MAMS GIVE US FITS IF THEY CAUGHT US
_Second Ditto_. "I'LL BET YER!"
(_But neither of the happy little truants knows that a thief is running
off with their clothes_.)]
       *       *       *       *       *
REFORM IN JUVENILE LITERATURE.
Since the thrilling moment when GUTTENBURG made his celebrated
discovery, numbers of persons have tried their hands--and undoubtedly
their heads also--at Books for the Young. Hitherto, many of them have
evinced a sad lack of judgment in respect of matter.
Would you believe it, in this highly moral and virtuous age? they have
actually written stories!--stories that were not true! They haven't
seemed to care a button whether they told the truth or not! Where can
they have contracted the deadly heresy that imagination, feeling, and
affection, are good things, deserving encouragement? Mark the effect of
these pernicious teachings! Hundreds and thousands--nay, fellow mortal,
_millions_ of children,--now walk the earth, believing in fairies,
giants, ogres, and such-like unreal personages, and yet unable (we blush
to say it!) to tell why the globe we live on is flattened at the poles!
Is it not a serious question whether children who persistently ignore
what is true and important, but cherish fondly these abominable fables,
may not ultimately be lost?
But, thanks to the recent growth of practical sense--or the decline of
the inventive faculty--in writers for the young, a better day is
dawning, and there is still some hope for the world. Men of sense and
morality are coming forward: they dedicate their minds to this
service--those practical minds whence will be extracted the only true
pabulum for the growing intellect. It is to minds of this stamp--so
truly the antipodes of all that is youthful, spontaneous, and
child-like, (in a word: frivolous,) that we must look for those solid
works which, in the Millennium that is coming, will perfectly supplant
what may be termed, without levity, the "Cock and Bull" system of
juvenile entertainment. Worldly people may consider this stuff graceful
and touching, sweet and loveable; but it is nevertheless clearly
mischievous, else pious and proper persons wouldn't have said so, time
For our part, we may as well confess that our sympathies go out
undividedly toward that important class who are averse to
Nonsense,--more particularly _book_-nonsense,--which they can't stand,
and won't stand, and there's an end of it. There is something
exceedingly winning, to us, in that sturdy sense, that thirst for
mathematical precision, that impatience of theory, that positive and
self-reliant--we don't mind saying, somewhat dogmatical--air, that
sternness of feature, thinness of lip, and coldness of eye, which belong
to the best examples. We respect even the humbler ones; for they at
least hate sentiment, they do not comprehend or approve of humor, and
they never relish wit. What does a taste for these qualities indicate,
but an idle and frivolous mind, devoted to trifles: and how fatal is
such a taste, in the pursuit of wealth and respectability!
Fantastic people have much to say of the "affections," the "graces and
amenities of life," "soul-culture," and the like. We cannot too deeply
deplore their fatuity, in giving prominence to such abstractions. As for
children, the most we can concede is, that they have a natural--though,
of course, depraved--taste for stories: yes, we will say that this
fondness is irrepressible. But, what we really must insist on, is, that
in gratifying that fondness, you give them _true_ stories. Where is the
carefully trained and upright soul that would not reject "JACK, the
Giant-killer," or "Goody Two-shoes," if it could substitute (say, from
"New and True Stories for Children,") a tale as thrilling as this:
    "When I was a boy, I said to my uncle one day, 'How did you
    get your finger cut off?' and he said, 'I was chopping a
    stick one evening, and the hatchet cut off my finger.'"
Blessings, blessings on the man who thus embalmed this touching
incident! Who does not see that the reign of fiction is over!
That the parental portion of the public may judge what the future has in
store for their little ones (who, we hope, will be men and women far
sooner than their ancestors were,) we present them with a fragrant
nosegay (pshaw! we mean, a shovel-full) of samples, commending them,
should they wish for more, to the nearest Sabbath-school library.
Ah, it is a touching thing, to see some great philanthropist come
forward, at the call of Duty and his Publisher (perhaps also quickened
by the hollow sound emitted by his treasure-box), and compress himself
into the absurdly small compass of a few pages 18mo., in order to afford
himself the exalted pleasure of holding simple and godly converse with
children at large!
"All truth--no fiction." What further guarantee would you have? How
replete with useful matter must not a book with _that_ assurance be! Let
    "The Indians cannot build a ship. They do not Know how to get
    iron from the mines, _and they do not know enough._
    "Besides, they do not like to work, and like to fight
    _better_ than to work.
    "When they want to sail, they burn off a log of wood, and
    make it hollow by burning and scraping it with sharp stones."
Now we ask, does not this satisfy your ideal of food for the youthful
mind? Observe that it is simple, direct, graphic, satisfying. It cannot
enfeeble the intellect. It will be useful. There is something tangible
about it. The child at once perceives that if the Indians knew how to
"get iron from the mines," and "knew enough" in general, they would
build ships, in spite of their distaste for work. There can be no doubt
that this is "all truth--no fiction," for Indians are sadly in want of
ships. They like to sail; for we learn that "when they want to sail"
they are so wild for it, that they even go to the length of "burning off
a log of wood, and making it hollow by burning and scraping it with
sharp stones." We thus perceive the significance of the apothegm, "Truth
is stranger than fiction." The day is not far distant when children will
think as much of the new literature as they formerly did of certain
worm-lozenges, for which they were said to "cry."
And where everything has been inspired by the love of Truth, even the
cuts may teach something. If "a canoe," contrary to the general
impression, is at least as long as "a ship," it is very important that
children should so understand it; and if "a pin-fish" is really as big
as "a shark," no mistaken deference to the feelings of the latter should
make us hesitate to say so.
No child, we are convinced, is too young to get ideas of science. In one
of the model books we are pleased to find this great truth distinctly
    "'Is there anything like a lever about a wheelbarrow?' said
    his father. 'O yes, sir,' said JAMES. 'The axle; and the
    wheel is the prop, the load is the weight, and the power is
    your hand.'"
This, we should say, speaks for itself.
Nor is a child ever too young to get ideas of thrift. One of our writers
for infants observes, after explaining that the Dutch reclaimed the
whole of Holland from the sea by means of dykes, "they worked hard,
saved their money, and so grew rich." Any child can take such hints.
Neither is it wholly amiss to demonstrate that a child can't put a clock
in his pocket. For it is plain that he would else be trying to do so
Now, where in the "Arabian Nights" do you find anything like this?--We
answer, triumphantly, Nowhere!
    "'JAMES,' said his father, 'do not shut up hot water too
    tight, and take care when it is over the fire.'
    "'A lady was boiling coffee one day, and kept the cover on
    the coffee-pot too long. When she took it off, the water
    turned to steam, and flew up in her face, and took the skin
    "'Do you know how they make the wheels of a steamboat move?
    They shut up water tight in a great kettle and heat it. Then
    they open a hole which has a heavy iron bar in it, the steam
    lifts it, in trying to get out. That bar moves a lever, and
    the lever moves the wheels.
    "'Machines are wonderful things.'"
This fact the reader must distinctly realize. And doesn't he realize
that the days of JACK, the Giant-killer, and Little Red Riding Hood, are
about over? We want truth. The only question is, (as FESTUS observed),
What is Truth?
       *       *       *       *       *
PUNCHINELLO CORRESPONDENCE
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
_Derrick_.--There is a superstition afloat that, if you see a ladder
hoisted against a house, and, instead of passing outside the ladder you
pass under it, some accident or affliction will befall you. What about
_Answer._.--It all depends upon circumstances. If, while passing under
the ladder, a hod of bricks should fall through it and strike you on the
head, then an "accident or affliction" shall have befallen you:
otherwise not.
_Nincompoop_.--I hear a great deal about the "log" of the _Cambria._ Can
you tell me how it is likely to be disposed of?
_Answer_.--It is to be manufactured into snuff-boxes for the officers
and crew of the _Dauntless_, as a delicate admission that they are up to
snuff and not to be sneezed at.
_Nick of the Pick_.--What is the best way of securing one's self from
the bodily damages to which all persons who attend pic-nic parties now
seem to be liable?
_Answer_.--Don't go to pic-nic parties. Rough it at home.
_John Brown_.--We cannot insert jokes on the number of SMITHS in the
world--except as advertisements. For lowest rates see terms on the
_Hircus_.--We are sorry to say that your remarks on Baby Farming are not
based upon facts. In nine cases out of ten it has nothing whatever to do
with Husbandry.
_Acorn_.--As this is the seventh time you have written to us, asking
whether corns can be cured by cutting, so it must be the last. The thing
palls, and we must now try whether ACORN cannot be got rid of by
_Horseman_.--No; we never remember to have met a man who did not "know
all about a horse." If such a man can be found, his fortune and that of
the finder are assured.
_Seeker_.--It may be true that man changes once in every seven years but
that will hardly excuse you from paying your tailor's bill contracted in
1862, on the ground that you are not the same man.
_Fond Mother_.--None but a brutal bachelor would object to a "sweet
little baby," merely because it was bald-headed.
_Sempronius_.--Would you advise me to commit suicide by hanging?
_Answer_.--No. If you are really bound to hang, we would advise you to
hang about some nice young female person's neck instead of by your own:
it's pleasanter.
_Wacks_.--Yes, the Alaska seal contracts will undoubtedly include the
great Seal of the United States.
_"Talented" Author_.--We do not pay for rejected communications.
_Many Inquiriers_.--We can furnish back numbers to a limited extent;
future ones by the cargo, or steamboat.
       *       *       *       *       *
WALL STREET, AUGUST 2ND.
Respected Sir: Acting upon your suggestion that, despite the repugnance
with which the truly artistic mind must ever view it, Commerce was a
rising institution, and that amongst the thousands of the refined and
haughty who read PUNCHINELLO with feelings of astonishment and awe,
there were some misguided men whose energies had been perverted to the
pursuit of filthy lucre, your contributor yesterday descended into the
purlieus of the city in quest of information wherewith to pander to the
tastes of the debased few.
It would be useless to point out to you that 10 A.M. is not the hour at
which it is the custom of Y.C. to tear himself from his luxurious conch.
His conception of the exalted has always been associated with late
breakfasts. On this memorable occasion, however, duty and a bell-boy
called him; and at the extraordinary hour to which he has referred he
arose and set about his investigations.
A party of distinguished and sorrowing friends accompanied him as far as
BANG'S. The regard which he cherishes for poetry and art had hitherto
marked out this pleasant hostelrie as the utmost limit of his down-town
perambulations. The conversation of his distinguished friends was
elevating: the potations in which they drank their good wishes were
equally, if not more so. Having deposited $2.35 for safe-keeping with a
trusted friend, your contributor hailed a Wall Street stage and sped
fearlessly to his destination. He has gone through the ordeal safely.
Annexed are the result of his labors, in the shape of bulletins which
were forwarded to but never acknowledged by a frivolous and unfeeling
WALL STREET, 10-1/2 A.M.--The market opened briskly with a tendency
towards DELMONICO'S for early refreshments. Eye-openers in active
demand. Brokers have undergone an improvement.
11 A.M.--On the strength of a rumor that a gold dollar had been seen in
an up-town jewelry store, gold declined 1.105.
11.15 A.M.--In consequence of a report that Col. JAS. FISK, JR., has
secured a lease of Plymouth Church, and is already engaged in
negotiations with several popular preachers, Eries advanced one-half per
HALF-PAST ELEVEN A.M.--A reaction has commenced in Eries, it being given
out that Madame KATHI LANNER had sustained an injury which would
necessitate her withdrawal from the Grand Opera House.
TWELVE O'CLOCK.--Just heard some fellow saying, "St. Paul preferred."
Couldn't catch the rest. It seems important. What did St. Paul prefer.
Look it up, and send me word.
HALF-PAST TWELVE.--Market excited over a dog-fight. How about St. Paul?
ONE.--Police on the scene. Market relapsed. Anything of St. Paul yet?
Send me what's-his-name's Commentaries on the Scriptures.
HALF-PAST ONE.--News has been received here that Commodore VANDERBILT
was recently seen in the neighborhood of the Croton reservoir. In view
of the anticipated watering process, N.Y.C. securities are buoyant.
Many, however, would prefer their stock straight. But what was it St.
Paul preferred? Do tell.
TWO O'CLOCK.--Immense excitement has been created on 'Change by a report
that JAY GOULD had been observed discussing Corn with a prominent
Government official. A second panic is predicted.
QUARTER PAST TWO.--Later advices confirm the above report. The place of
their meeting is said to have been the Erie Restaurant. Great anxiety is
felt among heavy speculators.
HALT-PAST TWO.--It is now ascertained that the Corn they were discussing
was Hot Corn at lunch. A feeling of greater security prevails.
THREE O'CLOCK.--Intelligence has just reached here that a dime-piece was
received in change this morning at a Broadway drinking saloon. Gold has
receded one per cent, in consequence. Eries quiet, Judge BARNARD being
out of town.
P.S. I haven't found out what St. Paul preferred. What's-his-name don't
mention it in his Commentaries.
HALF-PAST THREE.--Sudden demand for New York Amusement Co.'s Stock.
HARRY PALMER to reopen Tammany with a grand scalping scene in which the
TWEED tribe of Indians will appear in aboriginal costume. NORTON, GENET,
and _confreres_ have kindly consented to perform their original _roles_
of _The Victims_.
P.S. Unless I receive some definite information concerning that
preference of St. Paul's, I shall feel it incumbent on me to vacate my
post of Financial Editor.
FOUR O'CLOCK.--On receipt of reassuring news from Europe, the market has
advanced to DELMONICO'S, where wet goods are quoted from 10 cents
upwards. Champagne brisk, with large sales. Counter-sales (sandwiches,
etc.,) extensive. Change in greenbacks greasy.
P.S. Asked a fellow what St. Paul preferred. He said, "St. Paul
Preferred Dividends, you Know." Perhaps St. Paul did. A great many
stockholders do. But what stock did St. Paul hold? Was it Mariposa
or--"Only just taken one, but, as you observe, the weather _is_
confounded hot--so I don't mind if I--"
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE DOG IN THE MANGER.
Crispin won't do the work himself, and won't let John Chinaman do it. ]
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
We have just received from "DICK TINTO," our special correspondent at
the seat of war, the following metrical production said to have been
written by HENRI ROCHEFORT in prison, but suppressed in obedience to
orders from the Emperor. PUNCHINELLO felicitates his readers upon the
enterprise which enables him to lay it before them, and flatters himself
that the enormous trouble and expense involved in hauling it to this
side of the Atlantic, will not prevent him from doing it again--if
AU PRINCE IMPERIAL.
SCENE.--_A square fronting the Bureau of the chemin de fer for Chalons
and Metz. Time, Midi._
The Prince Imperial, en route for the seat of war, is seated upon a
milk-white steed. Beneath his left arm he convulsively carries a
struggling game-cock, with gigantic gaffs, while his right hand feebly
clutches a lance, the napping of whose pennant in his face appears to
give him great annoyance and suggests the services of a "Shoo-fly."
Around him throng the ladies of the Imperial bed-chamber and a cohort of
nurses, who cover his legs with kisses, and then dart furtively between
his horse's _jambes_ as if to escape the pressure of the crowd. Just
beyond these a throng of hucksters, market-women, butchers, bakers,
etc., vociferously urge him to accept their votive offerings of garden
truck, carrots, cabbages, parsnips, haunches of beef, baskets of French
rolls and the like, all of which the Prince proudly declines, whereupon
the vast concourse breaks forth into this wild chant to the air of
BINGEN ON THE RHINE.
      From fountains bright at fair Versailles,
        And gardens of St. Cloud--
      With a rooster of the Gallic breed
        To cock-a-doodle-do--
      Behold! our Prince Imperial comes,
        And in his hands a lance,
      That erst he'll cross with German spears
        For glory and for France.
      They've ta'en his bib and tucker off,
        And set him on a steed;
      That he may ride where soldiers ride,
        And bleed where soldiers bleed.
      They've cut his curls of jetty hair,
        And armed him _cap a pie_,
      Until he looks as fair a knight
        As France could wish to see.
      Ho! ladies of the chamber,
        Ho! nurses, gather near;
      Your _charge_ upon a _charger_ waits
        To shed the parting tear.
      Come! kiss him for his mother,
        _Et pour sa Majeste,_
      And twine his brow with garlands of
        The fadeless _fleurs de lis._
      _Voila!_ who but a few moons gone
        Of babies held the van,
      Now wears his spurs and draws his blade
        Like any other man!
      Then come, ye courtly dames of France,
        Oh! take him to your heart,
      And cheer as only woman can
        Our beardless BONAPARTE;
      For ere another sun shall set,
        Those lips cannot be kissed;
      And through the grove and in the court
        Their prattling will be missed.
      The light that from those soft blue eyes
        Now kindly answers thine,
      Will flash where mighty armies tread,
        Upon the banks of Rhine.
      Yea, hide from him, as best you can,
        All womanly alarms,
      Nor smile with those who mocking cry,
        "Behold! A _babe-in-arms!_"
      A babe indeed! Oh! sland'rous tongues,
        A Prince fresh from his smock,
      Shows _manly_ proof if he can stand
        The battle shout and shock.
      And this is one on whom the gods
        Have put their stamp divine:
      The latest, and perchance the last
        Of Corsica's dread line.
      Then for the Prince Imperial
        _Citoyens_ loudly cheer:
      That his right arm may often bring
        Some German to his _bier_;
      That distant Rhineland, trembling,
        May hear his battle-cry,
      And neutral nations wondering ask,
        "_Oh! how is this far high?_"
Our private dispatches from the seat of war in Europe are very
confusing. The "Seat" appears to be considerably excited, but the "War"
takes things easily, and seems to have "switched off" for an indefinite
time. It is observed by many that there never was a war precisely like
this war, and if it hadn't been for a Dutch female, the Duchess of
Flanders, it is fair to suppose that PUNCHINELLO wouldn't have been out
of pocket so much for cablegrams. The Duchess took it into her head (and
her head appears to have had room for it,) that her blood relative,
LEOPOLD, couldn't get his blood up to accept the Spanish Crown. Well, as
it turned out, the Duchess was right. Anyhow, she went for L., (a letter
by the way, which few Englishman can pronounce in polite society,) and
told him that there was
      "* * * a tide in the affairs of men,
      Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune."
LEOPOLD said he had heard of that tide; but he didn't believe in always
"follerin' on it," no matter what betided. Then the Duchess got up her
Dutch spunk, and spoke out pretty freely, saying as much as if LEOPOLD
were a tame sort of poodle, and that _she_ ought to have been born to
wear breeches, just to show him how a man should act in a great crisis
like the present.
"Just so," says LEOPOLD, "but you see the 'crisis' is what's the matter.
If it wasn't for the 'crisis,' I'd go in for ISABELLA'S old armchair
faster than a hungry pig could root up potatoes." FLANDERS saw at a
glance how the goose hung, and that her bread would all be dough if
something wasn't done, and that quickly. She knew LEOPOLD'S weakness for
Schnapps, when he was a boy at Schiedam, and, producing a bottle of the
Aromatic elixir, with which she had previously armed herself in
expectation of his obstinacy, poured out a glassful and requested him to
clear his voice with it. Fifteen minutes after his vocal organs had been
thus renewed, LEOPOLD was in a condition to see things in an entirely
new light, and hesitated no longer to write the following note to
General PRIM:
Dear PRIM: The thing has been satisfactorily explained to me, and I
accept. Enclosed find a bottle of Schnapps. You never tasted Schnapps
like this. The Duchess says she don't care a cuss for NAP, and that I
mustn't neither.
--LEOPOLD, SIGMARINGEN-HOHENZOLLERN.
This is a veritable account of the origin of the European
"unpleasantness," and can be certified to any one who will call upon us
and examine the original dispatches.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                Are offering at the following                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                    EXTREMELY LOW PRICES,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |          Notwithstanding the large advance in gold,          |
  |                                                              |
  |                   TWO CASES EXTRA QUALITY                    |
  |                                                              |
  |               JAPANESE POPLINS In Silver-Grey                |
  |                     and Ashes of Roses,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |          75 cts. per yard, formerly $1.25 per yard.          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    REAL GAZE DE CHAMBRAY,                    |
  |   Best quality, 75 cts. per yard, formerly $1.80 per yard.   |
  |                                                              |
  |                    A LARGE ASSORTMENT OF                     |
  |                         SUMMER SILKS                         |
  |       For Young Ladies, in Stripes and Checks, $1 per        |
  |       yard, recently sold at $1.50 and $1.75 per yard.       |
  |                                                              |
  |                       HEAVY GROS GRAIN                       |
  |                    Black and White Silks,                    |
  |                         $1 per yard.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                   STRIPED MONGOLIAN SILKS,                   |
  |                  FOR COSTUMES, $1 per yard.                  |
  |            100 Pieces in "American" Black Silks.             |
  |                 (Guaranteed for Durability,)                 |
  |                         $2 per yard.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                   A COMPLETE ASSORTMENT OF                   |
  |                  Trimming Silks and Satins.                  |
  |               Cut Either Straight or Bias, for               |
  |                       $1.25 per yard.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                A CHOICE AND SELECTED STOCK OF                |
  |                  Colored Gros Grain Silks,                   |
  |                 At $2.60 and $2.75 per yard.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |               CREPE DE CHINES, 56 Inchs wide,                |
  |                  IN EVERY REQUISITE COLOR.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                Are closing out their stock of                |
  |                FRENCH, ENGLISH, AND DOMESTIC                 |
  |                           CARPETS,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |            (The greatest portion just received),             |
  |                                                              |
  |           Oil Cloths, Rugs, Mats, Cocoa and Canton           |
  |                        Mattings, &c.,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |               At a Great REDUCTION IN PRICES,                |
  |                                                              |
  |         Notwithstanding the unexpected extraordinary         |
  |                        rise in gold.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |          _Customers and Strangers are Respectfully_          |
  |                     INVITED TO EXAMINE.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. STEWART & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |         Are Closing out all their Popular Stocks of          |
  |                     Summer Dress Goods,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  AT PRICES LOWER THAN EVER.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                    Extraordinary Bargains                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                              in                              |
  |                                                              |
  |            LADIES' PARIS ADD DOMESTIC READY-MADE             |
  |             Suits, Robes, Reception Dresses, &c.             |
  |               Some less than half their cost.                |
  |                                                              |
  |             AND WE WILL DAILY OFFER NOVELTIES IN             |
  |            Plain and Braided Victoria Lawn, Linen            |
  |                 and Pique Travelling Suits.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                 CHILDREN'S BRAIDED LINEN AND                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Pique Garments,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |            SIZES FROM 2 YEARS TO 10 YEARS OF AGE,            |
  |                                                              |
  |                   PANIER BEDOUIN MANTLES,                    |
  |           IN CHOICE COLORS, From $3.50 to $7 each            |
  |                                                              |
  |               Richly Embroidered Cashmere and                |
  |                   Cloth Breakfast Jackets,                   |
  |                         PARIS MADE,                          |
  |                     $8 each and upward.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                      A.T. STEWART & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |               4TH AVE., 9TH AND 10TH STREETS.                |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                          PUNCHINELLO.                        |
  |                                                              |
  | The first number of this Illustrated Humorous and Satirical  |
  | Weekly Paper was issued under date of April 2, 1870. The     |
  | Press and the Public in every State and Territory of the     |
  | Union endorse it as the best paper of the kind ever          |
  | published in America.                                        |
  |                                                              |
  | CONTENTS ENTIRELY ORIGINAL.                                  |
  |                                                              |
  | Subscription for one year, (with $2.00 premium,)      $4.00  |
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  |                                                              |
  | We offer the following elegant premiums of L. PRANG & CO'S   |
  | CHROMOS for subscriptions as follows:                        |
  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
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  | Size 8-3/8 by 11-1/8 ($2.00 picture,)--for            $4.00  |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and either of the               |
  | following $3.00 chromos:                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | Wild Roses. 12-1/8 x 9.                                      |
  | Dead Game. 11-1/8 x 8-5/8.                                   |
  | Easter Morning. 6-3/4 x 10-1/4--for                   $5.00  |
  |                                                              |
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  | following $5.00 chromos:                                     |
  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
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  | following $6.00 chromos:                                     |
  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and either of the               |
  | following $7.50 chromos                                      |
  |                                                              |
  | Strawberries and Baskets.                                    |
  | Cherries and Baskets.                                        |
  | Currants. Each 13x18.                                        |
  | Horses in a Storm. 22-1/4 x 15-1/4.                          |
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  |                                                              |
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  | (A set.) 4-3/8 x 9, price $9.00--for                   $9.00 |
  |                                                              |
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  | following $10 chromos:                                       |
  |                                                              |
  | Sunset in California. (Bierstadt) 18-1/8 x 12                |
  | Easter Morning. 14 x 21.                                     |
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  |                                                              |
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  | Checks on New York, or Registered letters. The paper will be |
  | sent from the first number, (April 2d, 1870,) when not       |
  | otherwise ordered.                                           |
  |                                                              |
  | Postage of paper is payable at the office where received,    |
  | twenty cents per year, or five cents per quarter, in         |
  | advance; the CHROMOS will be mailed free on receipt of       |
  | money.                                                       |
  |                                                              |
  | CANVASSERS WANTED, to whom liberal commissions will be       |
  | given. For special terms address the Company.                |
  |                                                              |
  | The first ten numbers will be sent to any one desirous of    |
  | seeing the paper before subscribing, for SIXTY CENTS. A      |
  | specimen copy sent to any one desirous of canvassing or      |
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  |                                                              |
  | Address,                                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                                  |
  |                                                              |
  | P.O. Box 2783.                                               |
  |                                                              |
  | No. 83 Nassau Street, New York.                              |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: A PASSAGE FROM CENTRAL PARK.
_Whittier's Barefoot Boy_. "O GOLLY! WHAT A SHAME FOR THAT OLD CUSS TO
CHUCK THE STUMP OF HIS CIGAR INTO THE LAKE, 'STEAD OF DROPPING IT WHERE
A FELLOW COULD PICK IT UP!"]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |          "The Printing House of the United States."          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    GEO. F. NESBITT & CO.,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    General JOB PRINTERS,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                  BLANK BOOK Manufacturers,                   |
  |              STATIONERS, Wholesale and Retail,               |
  |             LITHOGRAPHIC Engravers and Printers.             |
  |             COPPER-PLATE Engravers and Printers,             |
  |                     CARD Manufacturers,                      |
  |                   ENVELOPE Manufacturers,                    |
  |                 FINE CUT and COLOR Printers.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |              163, 165, 167, and 169 PEARL ST.,               |
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  |                                                              |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                 THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.                 |
  |                                                              |
  | The New Burlesque Serial, Written expressly for PUNCHINELLO  |
  |                     BY ORPHEUS C. KERR,                      |
  |                                                              |
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  |                                                              |
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Vol. I. No. 23.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD, By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.
       *       *       *       *       *
See 15th page for Extra Premiums.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       $47,000 REWARD.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                        PROCLAMATION.                         |
  |                                                              |
  | The Murder of Mr. Benjamin Nathan.                           |
  |                                                              |
  | The widow having determined to increase the rewards          |
  | heretofore offered by me (in my proclamation of July 29),    |
  | and no result having yet been obtained, and suggestions      |
  | having been made that the rewards were not sufficiently      |
  | distributive or specific, the offers in the previous         |
  | proclamation are hereby superseded by the following:         |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $30,000 will be paid for the arrest and          |
  | conviction of the murderer of BENJAMIN NATHAN, who was       |
  | killed in hie house, No. 12 West Twenty-third Street, New    |
  | York, on the morning of Friday, July 29.                     |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $1,000 will be paid for the identification and   |
  | recovery of each and every one of the three Diamond Shirt    |
  | Studs which were taken from the clothing of the deceased on  |
  | the night of the murder. Two of the diamonds weighed,        |
  | together, 1, 1/2, and 1/3, and 1-16 carats, and the other, a |
  | flat stone, showing nearly a surface of one carat, weighed   |
  | 3/4 and 1-32. All three were mounted in skeleton settings,   |
  | with spiral screws, but the color of the gold setting of the |
  | flat diamond was not so dark as the other two.               |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $1,500 will be paid for the identification and   |
  | recovery of one of the watches, being the Gold anchor        |
  | Hunting-case Stem-winding Watch, No. 5657, 19 lines, or      |
  | about two inches in diameter, made by Ed. Perregaux; or for  |
  | the Chain and Seals thereto attached. The Chain is very      |
  | massive, with square links, and carries a Pendant Chain with |
  | two seals, one of them having the monogram "B.N.," cut       |
  | thereon.                                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $300 will be given for information leading to    |
  | the identification and recovery of an old-fashioned          |
  | open-faced Gold Watch, with gold dial, showing rays          |
  | diverging from the center, and with raised figures; believed |
  | to have been made by Tobias, and which was taken at the same |
  | time as the above articles.                                  |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $300 will be given for the recovery of a Gold    |
  | Medal of about the size of a silver dollar, and which bears  |
  | an inscription of presentation not precisely known, but      |
  | believed to be either "To Sampson Simpson, President of the  |
  | Jews' Hospital," or, "To Benjamin Nathan, President of the   |
  | Jews' Hospital."                                             |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $100 will be given for full and complete         |
  | detailed information descriptive of this medal, which may be |
  | useful in securing its recovery.                             |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $1,000 will be given for information leading to  |
  | the identification of the instrument used in committing the  |
  | murder, which is known as a "dog" or clamp, and is a piece   |
  | of wrought iron about sixteen inches long, turned up for     |
  | about an inch at each end, and sharp; such as is used by     |
  | ship-carpenters, or post-trimmers, ladder-makers,            |
  | pump-makers, sawyers, or by iron-moulders to clamp their     |
  | flasks.                                                      |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $800 will be given to the man who, on the        |
  | morning of the murder, was seen to ascend the steps and pick |
  | up a piece of paper lying there, and then walk away with it, |
  | if he will come forward and produce it.                      |
  |                                                              |
  | Any information bearing upon the case may be sent to the     |
  | Mayor, John Jourdan, Superintendent of Police City of New    |
  | York; or to James J. Kelso, Chief Detective Officer.         |
  |                                                              |
  | A. OAKEY HALL, MAYOR.                                        |
  |                                                              |
  | The foregoing rewards are offered by the request of, and are |
  | guaranteed by me.                                            |
  |                                                              |
  | Signed, EMILY G. NATHAN,                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | Widow of B. NATHAN.                                          |
  |                                                              |
  | The following reward has also been offered by the New York   |
  | Stock Exchange:                                              |
  |                                                              |
  | $10,000.--The New York Stock Exchange offers a reward of Ten |
  | Thousand Dollars for the arrest and conviction of the        |
  | murderer or murderers of Benjamin Nathan, late a member of   |
  | said Exchange, who was killed on the night of July 28, 1870, |
  | at his house in Twenty-third street. New York City.          |
  |                                                              |
  | J. L. BROWNELL, Vice-Chairman                                |
  |                                                              |
  | Gov. Com.                                                    |
  |                                                              |
  | D. C. HAYS, Treasurer.                                       |
  | B. O. WHITE, Secretary.                                      |
  | MAYOR'S OFFICE, New York, August 5, 1870.                    |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
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  |                       TO NEWS-DEALERS.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Punchinello's Monthly.                    |
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  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD:
AN ADAPTATION.
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.
CHAPTER XVI.
AVUNCULAR DEVOTIO
Having literally _fallen_ asleep from his chair to the rug, J. BUMSTEAD,
Esquire, was found to have reached such an extraordinary depth in
slumber, that Mr. and Mrs. SMYTHE, his landlord and landlady, who were
promptly called in by Mr. DIBBLE, had at first some fear that they
should never be able to drag him out again. In pursuance, however, of a
mode of treatment commended to their judgment, by frequent previous
practice with the same patient, the good couple poured a pitcher of
water over his fallen head; hauled him smartly up and down the room,
first by a hand and then by a foot; singed his whiskers with a hot
poker, held him head-downward for a time, and tried various other
approved allopathic remedies. Seeing that he still slept profoundly,
though appearing, by occasional movements of his arms, to entertain
certain passing dreams of single combats, the quick womanly wit of Mrs.
SMYTHE finally hit upon the homoeopathic expedient of softly shaking his
familiar antique flask at his right ear. Scarcely had the soft, liquid
sound therefrom resulting been addressed for a minute to the auricular
orifice, when a singularly pleasing smile wreathed the countenance of
the Ritualistic organist, his eyelids flew up like the spring-covers of
two valuable hunting-case watches, and he suddenly arose to a sitting
position upon the rug and began feeling around for the bed-clothes.
"There!" cried Mrs. SMYTHE, greatly affected by his pathetic expression
of countenance, "you're all right now, sir. How worn-out you must have
been, to sleep so!"
"Do you always go to sleep with such alarming suddenness?" asked Mr.
"When I have to go anywhere, I make it a rule to go at once:--similarly,
when going to sleep," was the answer. "Excuse me, however, for keeping
you waiting, Mr. DIBBLE. We've had quite a rain, sir."
His hair, collar, and shoulders being very wet from the water which had
been poured upon him during his slumber, Mr. BUMSTEAD, in his present
newly-awake frame of mind, believed that a hard shower had taken place,
and thereupon turned moody.
"We've had quite a rain, sir, since I saw you last," he repeated,
gloomily, "and I am freshly reminded of my irreparable loss."
"Such an open, spring-like character!" apostrophized the lawyer, staring
reflectively into the grate.
"Always open when it rained, and closing with a spring," said Mr.
BUMSTEAD, in soft abstraction lost.
"_Who_ closed with a spring?" queried the elder man, irascibly.
"The umbrella," sobbed JOHN BUMSTEAD.
"I was speaking of your nephew, sir!" was Mr. DIBBLE'S impatient
explanation.
Mr. BUMSTEAD stared at him sorrowfully for a moment, and then requested
Mrs. SMYTHE to step to a cupboard in the next room and immediately pour
him out a bottle of soda-water which she should find there.
"Won't you try some?" he asked the lawyer, rising limply to his feet
when the beverage was brought, and drinking it with considerable noise.
"No, thank you," returned Mr. DIBBLE.
"As you please, then," said the organist, resignedly. "Only, if you have
a headache don't blame me. (Mr. and Mrs. SMYTHE, you may place a few
cloves where I can get them, and retire.) What you have told me, Mr.
DIBBLE, concerning the breaking of the engagement between your ward and
my nephew, relieves my mind of a load. As a right-thinking man, I can no
longer suspect you of having killed EDWIN DROOD."
"Suspect ME?" screamed the aged lawyer, almost leaping into the air.
"Calm yourself," observed Mr. BUMSTEAD, quietly, the while he ate a
sedative clove. "I say that I can _not_ longer suspect you. I can not
think that a person of your age would wantonly destroy a human life
merely to obtain an umbrella."
Absolutely purple in the face, Mr. DIBBLE snatched his hat from a chair
just as the Ritualistic organist was about to sit upon it, and was on
the point of hurrying wrathfully from the room, when the entrance of
Gospeler SIMPSON arrested him.
Noting his agitation, Mr. BUMSTEAD instantly resolved to clear him from
suspicion in the new-comer's mind also.
"Reverend Sir," he said to the Gospeler, quickly, "in this sad affair we
must be just, as well as vigilant I believe Mr. DIBBLE to be as innocent
as ourselves. Whatever may be his failings so far as liquor is
concerned, I wholly acquit him of all guilty knowledge of my nephew and
Too apoplectic with suffocating emotions to speak, Mr. DIBBLE foamed
slightly at the month and tore out a lock or two of his hair.
"And I believe that my unhappy pupil, Mr. PENDRAGON, is as guiltless,"
responded the puzzled Gospeler. "I do not deny that he had a quarrel
with Mr. DROOD, in the earlier part of their acquaintance; but, as you,
Mr. BUMSTEAD, yourself, admit, their meeting at the Christmas-Eve dinner
was amicable; as I firmly believe their last mysterious parting to have
The organist raised his fine head from the shadow of his right hand, in
which it had rested for a moment, and said, gravely: "I cannot deny,
gentlemen, that I have had my terrible distrusts of you all. Even now,
while, in my deepest heart, I release Mr. DIBBLE and Mr. PENDRAGON from
all suspicion, I cannot entirely rid my mind of the impression that you,
Mr. SIMPSON, in an hour when, from undue indulgence in stimulants, you
were not wholly yourself, may have been tempted, by the superior
fineness of the alpaca, to slay a young man inexpressibly dear to us
"Great heavens, Mr. BUMSTEAD!" panted the Gospeler, livid with horror,
--"Not a word, sir!" interrupted the Ritualistic organist,--"not a word,
Reverend sir, or it may be used against you at your trial."
Pausing not to see whether the equally overwhelmed old lawyer followed
him, the horribly astounded Gospeler burst precipitately from the house
in wild dismay, and was presently hurrying past the pauper
burial-ground. Whether he had been drawn to that place by some one of
the many mystic influences moulding the fates of men, or because it
happened to be on his usual way home, let students of psychology and
topography decide. Thereby he was hurrying, at any rate, when a shining
object lying upon the ground beside the broken fence, caused him to stop
suddenly and pick up the glittering thing. It was an oroide watch,
marked E.D.; and, a few steps further on, a coppery-looking seal-ring
also attracted the finder's grasp. With these baubles in his hand the
genial clergyman was walking more slowly onward, when it abruptly
occurred to him, that his possession of such property might possibly
subject him to awkward consequences if he did not immediately have
somebody arrested in advance. Perspiring freely at the thought, he
hurried to his house, and, there securing the company of MONTGOMERY
PENDRAGON, conveyed his beloved pupil at once before Judge SWEENEY, and
made affidavit of finding the jewelry. The jeweler, who had wound EDWIN
DROOD'S watch for him on the day of the dinner, promptly identified the
timepiece by the innumerable scratches around the keyhole; Mr. BUMSTEAD,
though at first ecstatic with the idea that the seal-ring was a ferule
from an umbrella, at length allowed himself to be persuaded into a
gloomy recognition of it as a part of his nephew, and MONTGOMERY was
detained in custody for further revelations.
News of the event circulating, the public mind of Bumsteadville lost no
time in deploring the incorrigible depravity of Southern character, and
recollecting several horrors of human Slavery. It was now clearly
remembered that there had once been rumors of terrible cruelties by a
PENDRAGON family to an aged colored man of great piety; who, because he
incessantly sang hymns in the cotton-field, was sent to a field farther
from the PENDRAGON mansion, and ultimately died. Citizens reminded each
other, that when, during the rebellion, a certain PENDRAGON of the
celebrated Southern Confederacy met a former religious chattel of his
confronting him with a bayonet in the loyal ranks, and immediately
afterwards felt a cold, tickling sensation under one of his ribs, he
drew a pistol upon the member of the injured race, who subsequently died
in Ohio of fever and ague. What wonder was it, then, that this young
PENDRAGON with an Indian club and a swelled head should secretly
slaughter the nephew and appropriate the umbrella of one of the most
loyal and devoted Ritualists that ever sent a substitute to battle? In
the mighty metropolis, too, the Great Dailies--those ponderous engines
of varied and inaccurate intelligence--published detailed and mistaken
reports of the whole affair, and had subtle editorial theories as to the
nature of the crime. The _Sun,_ after giving a cut of an old-fashioned
parlor-grate as a diagram of Mr. BUMSTEAD'S house, and a portrait of Mr.
JOHN RUSSELL YOUNG as a correct photograph of the alleged murderer by
ROCKWOOD, said:--"The retention of Mr. FISH as Secretary of State by the
present venal Administration, and the official countenance otherwise
corruptly given to friends of Spanish tyranny who do not take the _Sun,_
are plainly among the current encouragements to such crime as that in
the full reporting of which to-day the _Sun's_ advertisements are
crowded down to a single page, as usual. Judge CONNOLLY, after walking
all the way from Yorkville, agrees with the _Sun_ in believing, that
something more than an umbrella tempted this young MONTMORENCY PADREGON
to waylay EDWIN WOOD. To-morrow we shall give the public still further
exclusive revelations, such as the immense circulation of the New York
_Sun_ enables us especially to obtain. On this, as upon every occasion
of the publication of the _Sun,_ we shall leave out columns upon columns
of profitable advertising, in order that no reader of the _Sun_ shall be
stinted in his criminal news. The _Sun_ (price two cents) has never yet
been bought by advertisers, and never will be." The _Tribune_ said:
"What time the reader can spare from perusing our special dispatches
concerning the progress of Smalleyism in Europe, shall, undoubtedly, be
given to our female-reporter's account of the alleged tragedy at
Bumperville. There are reasons of manifest propriety to restrain us, as
superior journalists, from the sensational theorizing indulged by
editors choosing to expend more care and money upon local news than upon
European rumors; but we may not injudiciously hazard the assumption,
that, were the police under any other than Democratic domination, such a
murder as that alleged to have been committed by MANTON PENJOHNSON on
BALDWIN GOOD had not been possible. PENJOHNSON, it shall be noticed, is
a Southerner, while young GOOD was strongly Northern in sentiment; and
it requires no straining of a point to trace in these known facts a
sectional antagonism to which even a long war has not yielded full
sanguinary satiation." The _World_ said: "_Acerrima proximorum odia;_
and, under the present infamous Radical abuse of empire, the hatred
between brothers, first fostered by the eleutheromaniacs of
Abolitionism, is bearing its bitter fruit of private assassination at
last. Somewhere amongst our _loci communes_ of to-day may be found a
report of the supposed death, at Hampsteadville (_not_ Bumperville, as a
radical contemporary has it,) of a young Northerner named GOODWIN BLOOD,
at the hands of a Southern gentleman belonging to the stately old
Southern family of PENTORRENS. The PENTORRENS' are related, by old
cavalier stock, to the Dukes of Mandeville, whose present ducal
descendant combines the elegance of an Esterhazy with the intellect of
an Argyle. That a scion of such blood as this has reduced a fellow-being
to a condition of inanimate protoplasm, is to be regretted for his sake;
but more for that of a country in which the philosophy of COMTE finds in
a corrupt radical pantarchy all-sufficient first-cause of whatsoever is
rotten in the State of Denmark." The Times said: "We give no details of
the Burnstableville tragedy to-day, not being willing to pander to a
vitiated public taste; but shall do so to-morrow."
After reading these articles in the Great Dailies with considerable
distraction, and inferring therefrom, that at least three different
young Southerners had killed three different young Northerners in three
different places on Christmas-Eve, Judge SWEENEY had a rush of blood to
the brain, and discharged MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON as a person of
undistinguishable identity. But, when set at large, the helpless youth
could not turn a corner without meeting some bald-headed reporter who
raised the cry of "Stop thief!" if he sought to fly, and, if he paused,
interviewed him in a magisterial manner, and almost tearfully implored
him to Confess his crime in time for the Next Edition.
Father DEAN, Ritual Rector of St. Cow's, meeting Gospeler SIMPSON upon
one of their daily strolls through the snow, said to him:
"This young man, your pupil, has sinned, it appears, and a Ritualistic
church, Mr. Gospeler, is no sanctuary for sinners."
"I cannot believe that the sin is his, Holy Father," answered the
Reverend OCTAVIUS, respectfully: "but, even if it is, and he is
remorseful for it, should not our Church cover him with her wings?"
"There are no wings to St. Cow's yet," returned the Father,
coldly,--"only the main building; and that is too small to harbor any
sinner who has not sufficient means to build a wing or two for himself."
"Then," said the Gospeler, bowing his head and speaking slowly, "I
suppose he must go to the Other Church."
"What Other church?"
The Gospeler raised his hat and spoke reverently:--
That which is all of God's world outside this little church of ours.
That in which the Altar is any humble spot pressed by the knees of the
Unfortunate. That in which the priest is whoso doeth a good, unselfish
deed, even if in the shadow of the scaffold. That in which the anthem of
visible charity for an erring brother sinks into the listening soul an
echo of an unseen Father's pity and forgiveness, and the choral service
is the music of kind words to all who ever found but unkind words
"You must mean the Church of the Pooritans," said the Ritual Rector.
So, MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON went forth from Gospeler's Gulch to seek harbor
where he might; and, a day or two afterwards, Mr. BUMSTEAD exhibited to
Mr. SIMPSON the following entry in his famous Diary.
"No signs of that umbrella yet. Since the discovery of the watch and
seal-ring, I am satisfied that my umbrella, only, was the temptation of
the murderer. I now swear that I will no more discuss either my nephew
or my umbrella with any living soul, until I have found once more the
familiar boyish form and alpaca canopy, or brought vengeance upon him
through whom I am nephewless and without protection in the rain."
(_To be Continued._)
       *       *       *       *       *
CHINCAPIN AMONG THE FREE LOVERS.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: When Oratory, rising to its loftiest flights upon the
wings of Buncombe, denounces with withering scorn the effete and
tyrannical monarchies of Europe, and proclaims the glorious fact that
this is a Free Country, Fellow Citizens! it hardly does us justice. We
are not only free, Mr. PUNCHINELLO, we are Free and Easy, sir. Breathes
there a man so tortuously afflicted with Strabismus that he doesn't see
it? If such there be let him go and visit the Oneida Community.
Last week I took a run down to Oneida myself. I found the Communists a
very Social crowd, I can assure you. PROUDHON himself might be proud of
such disciples, and DESIDERANT find nothing there to be Desiderated. The
Communists divide everything equally, particularly the Affections, so
there are no Better Halves among them. In Utah, you are aware, Mr.
PUNCHINELLO, the women are Sealed to the men, but among these people
they are not even Wafered. Your Own IDA may be anybody else's in the
Oneida Community. The only individuals that object to Dividing are the
children, who are generally opposed to Division, both long and Short, as
well as to Fractions.
Infants don't go for much among the Free Lovers, and are Put Out--to
Nurse. After the age of Fifteen months they are surrendered by their
Ma's to the Charge of the Two Hundred (the number of men and women in
the Community,) who become their common parents, and the infants become
common property. The domestic arrangements are entrusted to two females,
who are called the "Mothers of the Community." But whether these dual
Mothers Do All the Nursing I am unable to say.
I had a little conversation with the Eminent and Aged Free Lover who
acted as my guide, and I give it in the manner of the "interviewing
CHINC. Venerable Seer, tip us your views on the subject of Love.
AGED FREE-LOVER Do you then take an Interest in our Principles?
CHINC. (Dubiously.) Then you _have_--
A. F. L. Yes, of our own. They are not those of a prejudiced Wor-r-r-ld.
Our principles are Embraced in the Communism of Love and Passional
CHINC. (Confidently.) Ah, yes; of course--you are Free Lovers.
A. F. L. Sir-r-r?
CHINC. (Much abashed.) Excuse me. I am young, inexperienced, and but
slightly acquainted with the Dictionary.
A. P. L. So I see. Know, young man, that we scorn and repudiate the name
of Free Lovers as applied to us by the newspapers. It is true we believe
that Love should be untrammelled by the Hateful Bonds of Marriage. With
us a Lady may have an affinity for any number of gentlemen, and
vice-versa. But we are not Free Lovers.
CHINC. Oh, no! Not by no means. Not any.
A. F. L. (Growing eloquent.) We have only advanced from the simple to
the more complex form of matrimony. Why should not the faithfulness
which constitutes the wretchedly exclusive dual Marriage of the
Wor-r-r-ld exist as well between Two Hundred as between two? Why?
CHINC. Why, O why? But there may be reasons--
A.F.L. Young Man, reared in the hateful prejudices of an Unprogressive
Wor-r-ld, there air none.
CHINC. This system, as you, Ancient Person, observe, is much complexed.
Do I, then, understand you that a woman may have fifty affinities and
yet be faithful to each?
A.F.L. Yes, my son, any number. This plurality of affinities you of
course cannot appreciate. A prejudiced Wor-r-r-ld cannot understand the
Bond of Union which connects all the Brothers and Sisters in a Spiritual
Marriage. The results of the complex system are--
CHINC. (Interrupting.) I--I--fear the complexity of your system is one
too many for me. I feel that my Brow cannot stand the pressure. I must
away. Farewell, old man--Adieu!
Such, Mr. PUNCHINELLO, is briefly the Free and Easy Doctrine of Natural
Affinity and Passional Attraction. I have no doubt there are some
illiberal Persons who would give it a much harsher name. For myself, I
believe in the Biggest kind of Liberty, but not for the Biggest kind of
Libertines. Reverentially yours,
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: LACONIC, BUT EXPRESSIVE.
SCENE: NEIGHBORHOOD OF THE FIVE POINTS
_First Ruffian._ "WHERE TO NOW, SNOOTY?"
_Second Ditto._ "PICNIC."
_First Ditto._ "WOTTERYER GOT IN YER LUNCH WALLET?"
_Second Ditto._ "SLUNG SHOT."]
       *       *       *       *       *
REJUVENATED FRANCE.
PUNCHINELLO has perused a draft of the next Constitution of the French
people, or of France, if that is better. Unwilling to give it to his
readers in full, at present, he considers himself authorized, however,
to cite a few paragraphs of it, which will be found both original and
interesting.
FIFTY-SEVENTH CONSTITUTION OF FRANCE. (One a year, more or less.)
_Paragraph_ 1. The French Nation is sovereign; the French people are
sovereign; sovereigns are sovereign; every Frenchman is sovereign.
_Paragraph_ 2. All men are equal, but Frenchmen are highly superior to
all other men.
_Paragraph_ 3. In order to secure peace, it is decreed and plebiscited
that all governments shall have a chance. For the next ten years, or
less, the Orleans Dynasty shall rule; after that a BONAPARTE for a few
years; then a Republic, "democratic and social," as long as it can keep
on its legs. After that a second Republic, for a twelvemonth at least.
Then an old BOURBON, if one can be found. After this, a military
dictatorship; the army to decide its duration. At each change the people
will decide by plebiscit whether they want the respective governments to
be: _personal_, _legal_, or neither.
_Paragraph_ 4.--But here we must stop.
       *       *       *       *       *
The _Liberte_ says: "A lot of crazy fellows tried to proclaim the
republic at Toulouse." Now there are manifestly two errors in this
statement. The fellows alluded to were not Toulouse, but too tight
fellows. Moreover, if they really had been crazies, as the _Liberte_
supposes, they would have been instantly arrested and sent to Paris,
under guard, by the way of the Madder line, to await the action of the
Prefect of the Sane.
       *       *       *       *       *
Astronomical.
A NEW Milky Way has been discovered. It is the way the milk producers
(farmers, not cows,) of Westchester County have of insisting upon
raising their charges for milk from four cents to five cents a quart,
wholesale. We fail to discern the milk of human kindness, here; but it
is clear that the milk in the cocoa-nuts of these farmers is mighty
       *       *       *       *       *
WHAT SIGERSON SAYS.
SIGERSON (Dr.) of the Royal Irish Academy, has gone and said some mighty
unpleasant things about the Atmosphere. How he found them out, we can't
say, (and we hope _he_ can't:) but nevertheless, he declares, with the
most dreadful calmness, that if you go to visit the Iron Works, you will
inevitably breathe a great many hollow Balls of Iron, say about one two
thousandth of an inch in diameter! What these rather diminutive
ferruginous globules will do for you, we do not know; but you can see
for yourself, that with your lungs full of little iron balls you must
certainly be in a "parlous" state. We should say that we had quite as
lief have the air full of those iron spheres, termed Cannon Balls, as it
is now in France. It is true, one couldn't get many of _these_ inside
one with impunity; and equally true, that foundry men do manage to live,
with all that iron in their lungs; but we can't say we desire to "build
up an Iron Constitution," as the P-r-n S-r-p folks say, by the inhaling
But SIGERSON is not content to render the neighborhood of Iron Works
questionable to the delicate and apprehensive; in "shirt-factory air" he
declares, upon honor, "there are little filaments of linen and cotton,
with minute eggs" (goodness gracious!) "Threshing machines," he more
than insinuates, "fill the air with fibres, starch-grains and spores,"
(spores! think of that;) and (what is truly ha(i)rrowing,) in "stables
and barber's shops" you cannot but breathe "scales and hairs." Good
What he says of printers and smokers is simply horrible; in short, this
dreadful SIGERSON has gone and made life a wretched and lingering (to
quote the sensitive Mrs. GAMP,) "progiss through this mortial wale."
       *       *       *       *       *
THE WATERING PLACES.
Punchinello's Vacation.
When we visit ordinary places of summer resort, we require no particular
outfit, (it being remembered that the "we" alluded to comprehends only
males,) excepting a suitable supply of summer clothes. But when we go to
the Adirondacks,--certainly a most extraordinary place of summer
resort,--we require an outfit which is as remarkable as the region
itself. Thoroughly understanding this necessity, Mr. PUNCHINELLO made
himself entirely ready for a life in the woods before he set out for the
Adirondack Mountains. Witness the completeness of his preparations.
The railroad to the heart of this delightful resort is not yet finished,
and when Mr. P. had completed his long journey, in which the excellence
and abominabitity,--so to speak,--of every American form of conveyance
was exhibited, he was glad enough to see before him those charming wilds
which are gradually being tamed down by the well-to-do citizens of New
York and Boston. He found that it was necessary, in order to enter the
district, to pass through a gate in a high pale-fence, and, to his
surprise, he was informed that he must buy a ticket before being allowed
to proceed. On inquiry, he discovered that the Reverend Mr. MURRAY, of
Boston, claiming the whole Adirondack region by right of discovery, had
fenced it entirely in, and demanded entrance money of all visitors.
This was bad, to be sure, but there was no help for it, and Mr. P.
bought his ticket and passed in.
The Adirondack scenery is peculiar. In the first place, there are no
pavements or gravel walks.
This is a grievous evil, and should be remedied by Mr. MURRAY as soon as
possible. The majority of the paths are laid out in the following
The scenery, however, would be very fine if the bugs were transparent.
The multitudes of insectivorous carnivora, which arose to greet Mr. P.,
effectually prevented him from seeing anything more than a yard distant.
But if this had been all, Mr. P. would not have uttered a word of
complaint. It was not all, by any means.
These hungry creatures, these black-flies; midges; mosquitoes; yellow
bloodsuckers; poison-bills; corkscrew-stingers; hook-tailed hornets; and
all the rest of them settled down upon him until they covered him like a
suit of clothes. A warmer welcome was never extended to a traveller in a
strange land.
In case his readers should not be familiar with the animal, the
accompanying drawing will give an admirable idea of the celebrated
black-fly of the Adirondacks, which, with the grizzly bear and the
rattlesnake, occupies the front rank among American ferocious animals.
After travelling on foot for a day and a night; drenched by rain;
scorched by the sun; crippled by rocks and roots; frightened by
rattle-snakes and panthers; blistered and swollen by poisonous insects;
nearly starved; tired to death; and presenting the most pitiable
appearance in the world, Mr. P. reached the encampment of Mr. MURRAY,
proprietor and exhibitor of the Adirondacks.
Knowing that there was quite a large company in the camp, Mr. P. was
almost ashamed to show himself in such a doleful plight, but he soon
found that there was no need for any scruples on that account, as they
were all as wretched looking as himself.
Mr. MURRAY welcomed him cordially, and after building a "smudge" around
him to keep off the flies, he gave Mr. P. some Boston brown-bread and a
glass of pure water from a rill.
This, with a sip from Mr. P.'s little flask, revived him considerably,
and after a night's rest on the lee side of a tree, where the rain did
not wet him nearly so much as if he had been on the other side, Mr. P.
felt himself equal to the task of enjoying the Adirondacks.
That morning, Mr. MURRAY conducted a melancholy party of disconsolate
pleasure-seekers to a neighboring stream, where he instructed them to
fish for trout.. He told them they must revel in the delights of the
scene, and should tremble with the wild rapture of drawing from the
rushing waters the bounding trout.
Mr. P. tried very hard to do this. He put his prettiest fly and his
sharpest hook on his longest line, and, for hours, gently whipped the
ripples. At last a speckled representative of the American National
Game-fish took compassion on the patient fisherman and entered into a
contest of skill with him. (A friendly match, and no bets on either
side.) The game lasted some time. The fish made some splendid
"fly-catches;" and Mr. P., slipping on a wet stone at the edge of the
brook, got in once on his base. On this occasion, the line and a
black-berry bush arranged a decided "foul" between them. At last, just
at the most interesting point of the game, the sudden sting of a
steel-bee caused Mr. P. to give a quick bawl, when the fish took a
home-run and came back no more. Time of game, 3h., 50m.
     Mr. P. 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0--1.
     Trout  6 9 8 7 9 9 9 9 9--75.
That afternoon Mr. MURRAY took the party to Crystal Brook, Shanty Brook,
Mainspring Brook, Tenement Brook, and more little mountain gutters of
the kind than you could count on your fingers and toes. As an
aristocratic residence, this region is certainly superior to New York,
for the Murray Hills are as plenty as blackberries. The next day they
all went up Mount Marcy. When the ascent was completed, everybody lay
down and went to sleep. They were too tired to bother themselves about
the view. At length, after a good nap, Mr. MURRAY got up and wakened the
party, and they all came down.
They came by the way of the "grand slide," but Mr. P. didn't like it.
His tailor, however, will no doubt think very highly of it.
When all was quiet, that evening, on Dangle-worm Creek, near which
they were encamped, Mr. P. found the Reverend MURRAY sitting in the
smoke of his private smudge, enjoying his fragrant pipe. Seating himself
by the veteran pioneer, Mr. P. addressed him thus:
"Tell me, Mr. MURRAY, in confidence, your opinion of the Adirondacks."
"Sir," said Mr. MURRAY, "I have no objection to give a person of your
respectability and knowledge of the world my opinion of this region, but
I do not wish it made public."
"Of course, sir!" said Mr. P. "A man of your station and antecedents
would not wish his private opinions to be made too public. You may rely
upon my discretion."
"Well, then," said the reverend mountaineer, "I think the Adirondacks an
unmitigated humbug, and I wish I had never let the world know that there
was such a place."
"Why then do you come here every season, sir?"
"After all I have written and said about it," said Mr. MURRAY, "I have
to come to keep up appearances. Don't you see? But I hate these
mountains from the bottom of my heart. For every word I have written in
praise of the region I have a black-fly-bite on my legs. For every word
I have said in favor of it I have a scratch or a bruise in some other
part of my corpus. I wish that there was no such a season as
summer-time, or else no such a place as the Adirondacks."
(Readers of this paper are requested to skip the above, as those are Mr.
MURRAY'S private opinions, and not the statements he makes in public,
and his desire to keep them dark should be respected.)
It may be of interest to his patrons to know that Mr. P. arrived home
safely and with whole bones.
       *       *       *       *       *
BY MOSE SKINNER.
MR. PUNCHINELLO: The editor of the Slunkville _Lyre_ says in his last
"Notwithstanding the calumnies of Mr. SKINNER, our reputation is still
good, and we continue to pay our debts promptly."
This is the fifth hoax he has perpetrated within two weeks. His line of
business at present seems to be the _canard_ line.
I'll trust him out of sight if I can keep one eye on him. Not otherwise.
For a light recreation, combining a little business, I recommend his
It is pleasant to reflect that men of his stamp are never born again.
They are born once too much as it is.
He went to the Agricultural Fair last Fall. There was a big potato
there. After gazing spell-bound upon it for one hour, he rushed home and
set the following in type:
"What is the difference between the Rev. ADAM CLARK, and the big potato
at the fair? One is a Commentator, and the other is an _Un_common
This conundrum was so exquisitely horrible, that his friends hoped he'd
have judgment enough to hang himself, but such things die hard.
Colonel W-----'s Goat. Colonel W-----, is a great man in these parts
Like most village nabobs, he's a corpulent gentleman with a great show
of dignity, and in a white vest and gold-headed cane, looks eminently
respectable. He owns a hot-house, keeps a big dog that is very savage,
and his wife wears a silk dress at least three times a week,--either of
which will establish a man's reputation in a country town.
Everything belonging to the Colonel is held in the utmost awe by the
villagers. The paper speaks of him as "our esteemed and talented
townsman, Col. W.," and alludes to his "beautiful and accomplished
wife," who, by the way, was formerly waiter in an oyster saloon, and won
the Colonel's affection by the artless manner in which she would shout:
"Two stews, plenty o' butter."
Like others of his stamp, the Colonel amounts to something just where he
is, but take him anywhere else, he'd be a first-class, eighteen carat
Awhile ago, the Colonel bought a goat for his little boy to drive in
harness, and the animal often grazed at the foot of a cliff, near the
house. One day, a man wandering over this cliff fell and was instantly
killed, evidently having come in contact with the goat, for the animal's
neck was broken.
But what amused me was the way the aforesaid editor spoke of the affair.
He wrote half a column on the "sad death of Col. W's. goat," but not a
word of the unfortunate dead man, till he wound up as follows:
"We omitted to state that a dead man was picked up near the unfortunate
goat. It is supposed that this person, in wandering over the cliff, lost
his foothold and fell, striking the doomed animal in his progress. Thus,
through the carelessness of this obscure individual, was Col. W's. poor
little goat hurled into eternity."
The Superintendent asked me last Sunday to take charge of a class.
"You'll find 'em rather a bad lot" said he. "They all went fishing last
Sunday but little JOHNNY RAND. _He_ is really a good boy, and I hope his
example may yet redeem the others. I wish you'd talk to 'em a little."
I told him I would.
They were rather a hard looking set. I don't think I ever witnessed a
more elegant assortment of black eyes in my life. Little JOHNNY RAND,
the good boy, was in his place, and I smiled on him approvingly. As soon
as the lessons were over, I said:
"Boys, your Superintendent tells me you went fishing last Sunday. All
but little JOHNNY, here."
"You didn't go, did you, JOHNNY?" I said.
"That was right. Though this boy is the youngest among you," I
continued, "you will now learn from his lips words of good counsel,
which I hope you will profit by."
I lifted him up on the seat beside me, and smoothed his auburn ringlets.
"Now, JOHNNY, I want you to tell your teacher, and these wicked boys,
why you didn't go fishing with them last Sunday. Speak up loud, now. It
was because it was very wicked, and you had rather come to the Sunday
School. Wasn't it?"
"No, sir, it was 'cos I couldn't find no worms for bait."
Somehow or other these good boys always turn out humbugs.
It is hardly good taste to introduce anything of a pathetic nature in an
article intended to be humorous, but the following displays such
infinite depth of tenderness, fortified by strength of mind, that I
cannot forbear. Although it occurred when I was quite young, it is
firmly impressed on my memory:
The autumn winds sighed drearily through the leafless trees, as the
solemn procession passed slowly into the quiet church-yard, and paused
before the open grave, where all that was mortal of LUCY C----- was to
be laid away forever, and when the white-haired old pastor, with
trembling voice, recounted her last moments, sobs broke out afresh, for
she was beloved by all.
The bereaved husband stood a little apart, and, though no tear escaped
him, yet we all instinctively felt that his heart was wrung with agony,
and his burden greater than he could bear. With folded arms, and eyes
bent upon the coffin, he seemed buried in a deep and painful reverie.
None dared intrude upon a grief so sacred. At last, turning to his
brother, and pointing to the coffin, he said:
"JOHN, don't you call that rather a neat looking box for four dollars?"
       *       *       *       *       *
Our French editor thinks that the Imperial revenues ought to be doubled
at once, on the ground of the too evident Income-pittance of the
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: AN EXCURSION.
_Fanny_. "ISN'T IT TOO BAD, FRANK; WE SHALL GET BACK TO TOWN LONG BEFORE
(_Fact is, Fanny has a thick shawl, and it would be so nice to share it
with Frank._)]
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
DEAR PUNCHINELLO: I see you have been at the White Sulphur Springs; but
you forgot to tell us what we were all dying to hear about the waters.
Several friends had suggested that I should go to some watering place
where I could get nothing else but water to drink, or to some spring
where I couldn't get "sprung." I tried the White Sulphur, and while
there learned some facts that may be useful to others who seek them for
a similar purpose.
These springs differ from the European springs in that they were not
discovered by the Romans. The Latin conquerors never roamed so far, and
it was perhaps a good thing for them that they didn't, Sulphur water
could not have agreed with Romans any more than it agrees with Yankees
who take whiskey with it. I was asked if I would like to analyse the
water, (as everything here is done by analysis under the eye of the
resident physician.) _My_ analysis was done entirely under the nose.
I raised a glass of the enchanted fluid to my lips: but my nose said
very positively, "Don't do it," and I didn't. I told my conductor I had
analyzed it, and he seemed not a little astonished at the rapidity and
simplicity of the method. He asked me if I would be kind enough to write
out a statement of the result after the manner of Dr. HAYES, Prof.
ROGERS, and others who have examined these waters and testified that
they would cure everything but hydrophobia. I told him I would, and
retiring to my room, wrote as follows:
"Sulphur water contains mineral properties of a sulphuric character,
owing to the fact that the water runs over beds of sulphur. Nobody has
ever seen these beds, but they are supposed to constitute the cooler
portions of those dominions corresponding to the Christian location of
Purgatory. Sinners, preliminary to being plunged into the fiery furnace,
are laid out on these beds and wrapped in damp sheets by chambermaids
regularly attached to the establishment. This is meant to increase the
torture of their subsequent sufferings, and there can be no doubt that
it succeeds. Herein we have also an explanation of the reason of these
waters coming to the surface of the earth--it is to give patients and
other _miserables_ who drink them a foretaste of future horrors. Passing
from this branch of the subject to the analysis proper, I find that
fifty thousand grains of sulphur water divided, into one hundred parts,
    Bilge water, - - - - - - - - - - 95.75
    Sulphate of Bilgerius, - - - - -  1.855
    Chloride of Bilgeria, - - - - - -  .285
    Carbonate de Bilgique, - - - - - - .750
    Silica Bilgica, - - - - - - - - - 1.955
    Hydro-sulp-Bil, - - - - - - - - -  .28
Twenty thousand grains of the water would contain less of the above
element than fifty thousand grains, which ought to be mentioned as
another one of the remarkable peculiarities of this most remarkable
I sent the foregoing scientific deductions to the "Resident Physician,"
and the bearer told me afterwards that the venerable Esculapian only
observed,--"Well, the writer of that must have been a most egregious
ass. There is no such thing as 'Sulphate of Bilgerius,' or 'Silica
Bilgica,' or anything like them", and then the old fellow chuckled to
himself over my supposed ignorance. I was willing he should. I'm
accustomed to being called an ass, and always like to be recognized by
my kindred. Chemically thine,
       *       *       *       *       *
COOL, IF NOT COMFORTABLE.
Apropos of complications arising out of the late Navy Appropriation Law,
a daily paper states as follows:
"The decision of the Attorney General now forces him to turn the balance
into the Treasury, and the sailors have to go unclothed."
How this decision will affect recruiting for our navy yet remains to be
seen, though it is probable that but few civilized men can be found to
join a service in which nudity is obligatory. In such torrid weather as
we are having, JACK ashore with nothing on, except, perhaps, a Panama
hat, will be a novel and refreshing object--but how about the police?
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: LAW VERSUS LAWLESSNESS. THE VIRTUOUS ALLIES OF THE NEW
YORK "SUN" ENGAGED IN THEIR CONGENIAL OCCUPATION OF THROWING DIRT.]
       *       *       *       *       *
HIRAM GREEN ON BASE BALL.
A Match Game between Centenarians.--"Roomatix" vs. "Bloostockin's."
The veterans of the war of 1812 of this place, organized a base ball
It was called the "Roomatix base ball club."
A challinge was sent to the "Bloo stockin' base ball club," an old man's
club in an adjoinin' town. They met last week to play a match game.
It required rather more macheenery than is usually allowed in this grate
nashunal game of chance.
For instance: The pitchers haden't very good eye-site, and were just as
liable to pitch a ball to "2nd base," as to "Home base."
To make a sure thing of it, a big long tin tube was made, on the
principle of the Noomatic tunnel under Broadway, New York. A large
thing, like a molasses funnel, was made, onto the end facin' the
The old man ceased the ball and pitched it into the brod openin'. The
raceway was slantin' downwards, towords the "_Homebase._" The batter
stood at his post, with an ear trumpet at his ear, and a wash-bord in
his two hands holdin' onto the handles.
When he heard the ball come rollin' down the tin, he would "muff" it
with his wash-bord. Then the excitement would begin. The "striker" would
start off and go feelin' about the "field" for the base, while the
"outs" got down onto their bands and knees and went huntin' for the
Sometimes a "fielder," whose sense of feelin' wasen't very acute, got
hold of a cobble stun, then he would waddle, and grope his way about, to
find the base. But I tell you it was soothin' fun for the old men.
After lookin' 20 minuts for a ball, then findin' the base before the
batter did, who just as like as not had strayed out into another lot, it
made the old fellers laff.
Sometimes two players would run into each other and go tumblin' over
together. Then the "Umpire" would go and get them onto their pins agin,
and give 'em a fresh start.
On each side of this interestin' match game, was two old men who went on
It was agreed, as these men coulden't run the bases, that a man be
blindfolded and wheel these aged cripples about the bases in a
wheel-barrer.
The minnit these old chaps would "strike," they dropped their crutches,
and the umpire would dump them into the _vehicle,_ and away went mister
A player was bein' wheeled this way once, and the "outs" was down onto
their marrow-bones tryin' to find the ball, when a splash! was heard.
The wheel-barrer man had run his cart into a goose pond, and made a
scatterin' among the geese.
"Fowl!" cride the Umpire.
The wheel-barrer man drew his lode ashore.
"Out!" hollers the Umpire.
And another victim went to the wash-bord.
Bets were offered 2 to one, that "The Roomatixs" would _pass_ more
balls--on their hands and knees--than the "Bloostockin's." These bets
were freely taken--by obligin' stake-holders.
A friend of the "Bloostockin's" jumped upon a pile of stuns and said:
"15 to 10 'the Roomatix' have got more _blinds_ than the
'Bloostockin's.'"
No takers--I guess he would have won his bet, for just at this juncture
a "Roomatix" was at the bat.
The Umpire moved his head.
The old man thought it was the ball, and he "muffed" the "Umpire's" head
with his wash-bord.
The Umpire turned suddenly and wanted to know: "Who was firin' spit
balls at his back hair?"
One "innins," the ball was rolled through, it struck the batter in the
"Out on rite eye," cride the Umpire, and the batter was minus an eye.
Next man to the bat.
His eyes were gummy. He coulden't see the ball.
He heard the ball rollin'.
He raised his wash-board.
His strength gave way.
Down came the bat, and the handle of the wash-bord entered his eye.
"Out! on the left eye," screams the Umpire.
Old man No. 3 went to the wash-bord.
The ball came tearin' along.
It was a little too swift for the old man.--Rather too much "English"
into it. It "Kissed" and made a "scratch," strikin' the "Cushion"
between the old man's eyes.
This gave him the "cue." Tryin' to make a "draw" with the wash bord, so
as to "Uker" the ball, and "checkmate" the other club, he was
"distansed," and his spectacles went flyin', smashin' the glass and
shuttin' off his eyesite.
"Out! agin," bellers the Umpire.
This was the first _Blind_ innin's for the "Roomatix."
The "Bloostockin's" bein' told how this innin's stood, by addressin'
them through their ear-trumpets, made a faint effort to holler
And, I am grieved to say it, one by-stander, who diden't understand the
grate nashunal game, wanted to know:
"What in thunder them old dry bones was cryin' about"
It was a crooel remark, altho' the old men, not bein' used to hollerin'
much, and not havin' any teeth, did make rather queer work tryin' to
Ime sorry to say, the game wasen't finished.
Refreshments were served at the end of this innin's, consistin' of
Slippery Elm tea and water gruel.
The old men eat harty.
This made them sleepy, and the consequence was, that the minnit they was
led out on the grass, "Sleep, barmy sleep," got the best of 'em, and
they laid down and slept like infants.
Both nines were then loaded onto stone botes and drawn off of the field.
The friends of both sides _drew_ their stake money, and the Umpire,
_drawin'_ a long breath, declared the match a _draw_ game.
Basely Ewers, HIRAM GREEN, Esq.,
_Lait Gustise of the Peece._
       *       *       *       *       *
The following suggestive item appears in an evening paper:
"Illinois boasts of chickens hatched by the sun."
Well, New York can beat Illinois at that game. The chickens hatched by
the _Sun_, here, are far too numerous for counting, and they are curses
of the kind that will assuredly "come home to roost."
       *       *       *       *       *
Disagreeable, but True.
The restoration of the Bourbon dynasty is reckoned possible in France.
In this country the Bourbon die-nasty has never been played out. It is a
malignant disease, sometimes known as _delirium tremens._
       *       *       *       *       *
Mlle. Silly, the daily papers inform us, has been engaged for the Grand
Opera House in _opera bouffe_, and will make her _debut_ about the
middle of September. The lady should not be confounded with any of our
New York "girls of the period" who bear, (or ought to bear,) her name.
       *       *       *       *       *
Caution to Readers.
Seven steady business men of this city, four solid capitalists of
Boston, eighteen Frenchmen residents of the United States, but doing
business nowhere, and a German butcher in the Bowery, have just been
added to sundry lunatic asylums, their intellects having become
hopelessly deranged from reading the conflicting telegrams about the war
       *       *       *       *       *
In one of the reports of the Coroner's investigation of the Twenty-third
street murder, it was mentioned that "Several ladies and some young
children occupied chairs within the railing."
When REAL was hanged, it was noticeable that a great number of women
appeared in the morbid crowd that surrounded the Tombs, many of them
with small children in their arms.
Fifth Avenue and Five Points! Six of one and half-a-dozen of the other!
Blood _will_ tell!
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE HAZARD OF THE HORSE-CARS.
THIS IS STUBBS, (_an incorrigible old bachelor_,) WHO TAKES AN OPEN CAB,
FOR GREENWOOD, AND IS COMPELLED TO DO THE WHOLE DISTANCE SO.
Illustration: AND THIS IS THE WAY IN WHICH DOBBS, WHO WOULD HAVE BEEN
DELIGHTED WITH STUBB'S LUCK, IS MADE TO SUFFER MARTYRDOM ON _his_
LITTLE EXCURSION]
       *       *       *       *       *
THE POEMS OF THE CRADLE.
    "Let's go to bed," says Sleepy Head,
    "Tarry awhile," says Slow;
    "Put on the pot," says Greedy Gut,
    "We'll sup before we go."
These lines the observant student of nursery literature will perceive
are satirical. Was there ever a poet who was not satirical? How could he
be a genius and not be able to point out the folly he sees around him
and comment upon it. In this case, the poor poet,--who lived in a
roseate cloud-land of his own, not desiring such mundane things as sleep
and food, was undoubtedly troubled and plagued to death by having
brothers and sisters who were of the earth, earthy; and who never
neglected on opportunity to laugh at his poems; to squirt water on him
when in the heavenly mood, his eyes in frenzy rolling; to put spiders
down his back; to stick pins in his elbows when writing; or upset his
Fine natures always have a deal to bear, in this world, from the coarse,
unfeeling natures that cannot appreciate their delicacy; and this one
had more than his share.
Many a time has he been goaded to frenzy by the cruel sneers and jokes
of those who should have been proud of his talents; and rushed with
wild-eyed eagerness down to the gentle frog pond, intending there to
bury his sorrows beneath its glassy surface. He saw in imagination the
grief-stricken faces of those cruel ones as they gazed upon his cold
corpus, with his damp locks clinging to his noble brow, the green slimy
weeds clasped in his pale hands, and the mud oozing from his pockets and
the legs of his pants; and he gloried in the remorse and anguish they
would feel when they knew that the Poet of the family was gone forever.
All this he pictured as he stood on the bank, and, while thinking, the
desire to plunge in grew smaller by degrees and beautifully less, till
at last it vanished entirely, and he concluded he had better go home,
finish his book first and drown himself afterwards, if necessary. It
would make much more stir in the world, and his name and works might
live forever.
A happy thought strikes him as he slowly meanders homeward. He would
have revenge. He would punish these wretches by handing down--to
posterity their peculiarities. He would put it in verse and have it
printed in his book, and then they'd see that even the gentle worm could
turn and sting.
Ah! blessed thought. He flies to his garret bedroom, seizes his
goose-quill and paper, and sits down. What shall he write about? He
nibbles the feather end of his pen, plunges the point into the ink,
looks at it intently to see if he has hooked up an idea, sees none, and
falls to nibbling again. Ah! now he has it. There is TOM, the
dunderhead, who is always sleepy and he will put that down about him.
Squaring his shoulders, he writes:
    "Let's go to bed," says Sleepy Head.
Gleefully he rubs his hands. Won't that cut TOM. Ah! Ha! I guess TOM
won't say much more about staring at the moon. Now for DICK, the old
stupid. What shall he say about him? The end of the pen diminishes
slowly but surely, and then he writes:
    "Tarry awhile," says Slow.
That will answer for DICK. Now let him give HARRY something scorching,
withering, and cutting--so that he'll never open his mouth again unless
it is to put something in it. Oh, that is it, he is always hungry--rub
him on that. He thinks intently. Determination shows in every line of
his face; the pen is almost gone only an inch remains, and then the Poet
masters his subject. He has got the last two lines.
    "Put on the pot," says Greedy Gut,
    "We'll sup before we go."
He throws down the stump of the pen and bounces up. His object in life
is accomplished; he is master of the situation, now, and holds the trump
card. See the quiet smile' and knowing look as he folds the paper up,
and thrusts it into his pocket. He is going down-stairs to read it to
the family. Now is the time for sweet revenge and for the overthrow of
those Philistines, his brothers. He descends slowly, like an avenging
angel, enters the room, and--gentle reader, imagine the rest.
       *       *       *       *       *
Masculine or Feminine?
It now seems that the new and terrible fagot-gun used in the French army
is to be spoken of in the feminine gender--_mitrailleuse_ instead of
_mitrailleur_, as hitherto spelt by correspondents. That a virago is
sometimes termed a "spit-fire" we all know, but that is hardly reason
enough to excuse the French for such a lapse of gallantry as calling a
thunderous and fatal implement of war by a soft feminine name. Let them
stick to _mitrailleur_. Yet we would not rashly throw the other word
away. _Mitrailleuse_ would be a capital acquisition to the English
language, and very handy for any man having a vixen of a wife, with no
nice pet name convenient with which to conciliate her.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Ridiculous Rub-a-dub.
A quiet gentleman who occupies lodgings immediately opposite one of the
city armories, writes to us asking whether the drum corps that practice
there two or three evenings in the week should not be supplied with
noiseless drums, as PUNCHINELLO has suggested regarding the street
organs. PUNCHINELLO thinks the suggestion a good one. He would like to
see the beating of drums after night-fall abolished altogether In fact,
it is the only kind of Dead Beat to which he would lend his countenance.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Clear Case.
Some wiseacre has been trying to demonstrate, through the public press,
that POE did not write "The Raven."
The man must be a Raven lunatic.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE BALLARD OF THE GOOD LITTLE BOY, AGED TEN, AND HIS BAD BROTHER.
An obituary notice of a boy, 10 years old, in _The Wilmington
Commercial_, contains the following statement: "In his dying moments he
charged his brother WILLIAM not to dance, or sing any more songs.
Funeral services preached by the Rev WM. R. TUBB."
    This pious Boy lay on his bed,
        A dying very fast;
    'Most every word this good Boy said,
        They thought 'twould be his last.
    The Reverend Mr. TUBB was there,
        A praying very slow;
    It was a solemn, sad affair;
        Twas plain the Boy must go.
    His brother WILLIAM:, he come o'er,
        To which this good Boy cried,
    "Oh, BILL, don't sing nor dance no more!"
        And following which he died.
    Now WILLIAM, he had learnt a song
        That pleased him very much:
    He didn't know that it was wrong
        To carol any such.
    He said he couldn't leave it go,
        Not if he was to die;
    And that same song, as all should know,
        Was called by him, "Shoo Fly."
    He was informed by Mr. TUBBS
        That he would fall down dead,
    Or else get killed by stones or clubs,
        With that thing in his head.
    But, such is life! Poor WILLIAM went
        And sung his Shoo Fly o'er:
    Not knowing that he would be sent
        Where Shoo Flies are no more,
    He was a singing, one wet day,
        And likewise dancing too,
    When lightning took his sole away--
        Let this warn me and you!
       *       *       *       *       *
HINTS FOR THE CENSUS.
DEAR PUNCHINELLO: I have always been in favor of the Census, the system
is questionable, perhaps, though that depends on how you like it. I have
found that it answers very well where the parties are highly
intelligent-like myself, for example.
I drew up the following proclamation to read to the U.S. official in my
_Q._ What is your name? _A_ SARSFIELD YOUNG. What is yours?
_Q._ What is your age? _A._ A., being asked how old he was, replied: If
I live as long again, and half as long again, and two years and a
half,--how old shall I be?
_Q._ Where is your residence? _A._ I live at home with the family, have
often thought that, amid pleasures and palaces, there is no place like
home, unless it be a boarding house with hot and cold water.
_Q._ What is your occupation? _A._ Taxpayer. This takes my whole time
_Q._ Where were you born? _A._ Having made no minute of it at the time,
it has passed out of my memory.
_Q._ What kind of a house do you live in? _A._ A mortgaged house,
painted flesh color, a front exposure, brick windows and a brass
lightning rod. A good deal of back yard, (and back rent,) to it.
_Q._ At what age did your grandfather die? _A._ If he died last night,
(I saw him yesterday at a horse race,) he was turning ninety-eight,
perhaps he got tipped over in the turn.
_Q._ Do you hold any official position: if so, what? _A._ Inspector of
fish,--every Friday.
_Q._ Are you insured? A. I am agent for half a dozen companies. So are
all my neighbors. My life is insured against fire for several thousands.
_Q._ Are you troubled with chilblains? _A._ Quitely. I soak my feet in
oil of vitriol.
_Q._ Were you in the war? _A._ I have the scar on my arm which I got in
the service. I was vaccinated severely, while clerk to a substitute
broker at Troy, N. Y.
_Q._ Are you a graduate of any College. _A._ Yes, of one. I forget which
one. I only remember that I was one of the most remarkable men they ever
_Q._ Have you suffered from the potato rot? _A,_ Not myself. My uncle
had it bad. He found that whiskey and warm water was a very good thing.
I've made an independent discovery of the same fact, also.
_Q._ Are you in favor of Free Trade or Protection? _A_. I can only say
that, if elected, gentlemen, I shall endeavor to do my whole duty. I am.
_Q._ What do you think of deep plowing? _A._ In a scanty population, I
should say it has a bad effect. I can recommend it, however, in a sandy
soil, where school privileges are first-class.
_Q._ Does anything else occur to you which it is important for the
Government to know? _A._ Yes: a hay fever occurs to me regularly once a
year. I have no policy to enforce against the will of the people: Still
I would call the attention of the medicine-loving public to my friend
Dr. EZRA CUTLER'S "Noon-day Bitters." For ringing in the ears, loss of
memory, bankruptcy, teething, and general debility, they are without a
rival. No family should live more than five minutes walk from a bottle.
They gild the morning of youth, cherish manhood, and comfort old age,
with the name blown on the bottle in plain letters. Beware of
impositions--at all respectable druggists.
* * I believe in taking things easy, and I shall cheerfully assist the
Administration, when it calls at my door on Census business.
SARSFIELD YOUNG.
       *       *       *       *       *
Facilis Descensus
The daily papers frequently have articles respecting the "Hell Gate
Obstructions." We do not, however, remember having seen that subject
handled in the _Sun._ Perhaps it is that DANA and DYER, conscious of
their deserts, do not anticipate any obstructions in that quarter.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: ARISTOCRACY IN THE KITCHEN.
_Lady_, (responsively.) "THAT FASHIONABLY DRESSED WOMAN WHO HAS JUST
PASSED, DEAR? OH, THAT'S MY COOK, TAKING HER SUNDAY WITH THE GROCER'S
YOUNG MAN. SHE NEVER ACKNOWLEDGES ME ON SUCH OCCASIONS."]
       *       *       *       *       *
WHAT SHALL WE CALL IT?
Having made up my mind to become a novelist, I naturally studied the
productions of my predecessors, and found out, I assure you, in a very
brief period of time, the little tricks of the trade. As I do not wish
to have the business flooded with neophytes, I refrain from informing
your readers how every man can become his own novel writer. One very
curious thing, however, which I discovered, I will here relate.
I was very much puzzled by the curious titles which novelists selected
for their books, and very much annoyed by my inability to discover where
they picked them up. I persevered, however, and discovered that they
found them in the daily papers. In fact, I shrewdly suspect that I have
discovered, in these veracious sheets, the very incidents which
suggested the names of a number of volumes. Let me place before you the
extracts, which I have culled from the papers.
_"Put Yourself in his Place."_--READE.
"Yesterday morning an unknown man was found hanging from the limbs of a
tree in JONES' Wood. He was quite dead when discovered."
_"Red as a Rose is She."_
"Bridget Flynn was arrested for vagrancy. When brought before the Court
she was quite drunk. She had evidently been a hard drinker for years, as
her face was of a brilliant carmine color."
_"Man and Wife."_ COLLINS.
"Married.--At Salt Lake City, on the 1st day of August, 1870, BRIGHAM
YOUNG, Esq., to Miss LETITIA BLACK, Mrs. SUSAN BROWN and Miss JENNIE
_"What will he do with it?"_ BULWER.
"It is stated by the police authorities, that the description of Mr.
NATHAN'S watch has been spread so widely, that the robber will be unable
to dispose of it to any jeweler or pawnbroker."
_"Our Mutual Friend"_--DICKENS.
"England is supplying both France and Prussia with horses."
_"John."_--Mrs. OLIPHANT.
"Mr. SAMPSON has sent to California for another cargo of Chinese
shoemakers."
_"Friends in Council."_--HELPS.
"Mr. Drew and Mr. Fisk were closeted together for more than an hour
_"A Tale of Two Cities."_--DICKENS.
"The census will show that our city has a population of at least
500,000."--_Chicago paper._
"St Louis has undoubtedly a population of 400,000."--_St. Louis paper._
"Chicago, 300,000; St. Louis, 190,000."--_Census returns._
_"Stern Necessity."_--F.W. ROBINSON.
"It is stated that a well-known yacht failed to win the prize in the
late race, because her rudder slipped out of her fastenings and was
       *       *       *       *       *
ITEMS FROM OUR RURAL REPORTERS.
A German farmer, living not one hundred miles from Cincinnati, is
raising trichinated pork for the supply of the French army.
The artist who drew the Newfoundland dog (out of the water,) at Newport,
R.I., has received a medal from the Royal Humane Society of England, on
condition that he will not Meddle with dogs any more.
Near Ashland, in Virginia, a spring has been discovered that runs
chicken soup. So great was the commotion in culinary arrangements, when
the discovery was made public, that "the dish ran after the spoon."
The curious crustacean known as the "fiddler crab" is unusually numerous
in the marshes of Long Island, this summer. It differs from impecunious
persons inasmuch as it is a burrowing, not a borrowing, creature. It
differs from ordinary fiddlers by two letters, in that it bores the
earth, but not the ear.
It is an established fact that persona who sleep on mattresses stuffed
with pigeon's feathers never die. Near Salem, Mass., there is now a
woman nearly two hundred years old, who has been bed-ridden and confined
to a pigeon-feather bed for one hundred and fifty years. One of her
descendants a shrewd man-has discovered that the pigeon feathers are
growing musty, and proposes to replace them with the plumage of geese.
There is a wild man at large in the woods of Sullivan County, N.Y. He
was once a fast man of New York City, and is so fast, still, that nobody
can catch him.
A gentleman residing in the vicinity of Glen Cove had a Newfoundland dog
that was very expert at catching lobsters. The faithful animal has been
missing for some time, but a clue to its fate was yesterday obtained by
its owner, who found the brass collar of the dog inside a large lobster
with which he was about to construct a salad.
An English nobleman has taken up his residence in the centre of the
Dismal Swamp, Va. Blighted affections are supposed to be the cause of
his trouble, as he always wears at the top buttonhole of his coat a
_chignon_ made of red hair.
       *       *       *       *       *
"That's what's the Matter."
Among the lectures announced for the coming season is Mrs. CECILIA
BURLEIGH'S "Woman's right to be a Woman." We quite agree with Mrs.
BURLEIGH'S remark. Woman _is_ right to be a woman, but the matter just
now is that woman wants to be a man.
       *       *       *       *       *
Couplet from a Shaker Song.
    O! Mr. President, you'll have to keep on pegging
    At this English Mission, which seems to go a-begging.
         Hi! yi! yi! etc.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                   Extraordinary Bargains.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |    Respectfully call the attention of their Customers and    |
  |             Strangers to their attractive Stock              |
  |                                                              |
  |                              OF                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                       SUMMER AND FALL                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                         DRESS SILKS,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                      At popular prices.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Striped, Checked and Chine                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                            SILKS,                            |
  |                                                              |
  |             In great variety, $1 to $2 per yard;             |
  |                      value $1.50 to $3                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                        PLAIN FOULARD,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                  $1.50, value $2 per yard.                   |
  |                   24 inch Black and White                    |
  |                 Striped $1.75; value $2.50.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                       STRIPED SATINS,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                       $1.25; value $2.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Plain and Striped Japanese,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                    75c. and $1 per yard.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |             Rich White and Colored Dress Satins,             |
  |                                                              |
  |                        Extra Quality.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                       A CHOICE LINE OF                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                        PLAIN GRAINS,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |             for Evening and Street, $2.50 to $3;             |
  |                 value $3 to $3.50 per yard.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                       A FEW EXTRA RICH                       |
  |                                                              |
  |             SATIN BROCADE SILKS, AMERICAN SILKS,             |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Black and Colored, $2.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                  JOB LOT OF MEDIUM AND RICH                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                            SILKS.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                       GREAT BARGAINS.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                       A COMPLETE STOCK                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                         BLACK SILKS,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                      At popular prices.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                      PLAIN AND STRIPED                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                      GAZE DE CHAMBREY,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |             Alexandre Best Kid Gloves, &c., &c.              |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |              4th Avenue, 9th and 10th Streets.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                     A. T. Stewart & Co.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Are offering several lots of                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                      HOUSEKEEPING GOODS                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          MUCH BELOW                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                     COST OF IMPORTATION.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |             5-8 and 3-4 Single and Double DAMASK             |
  |              NAPKINS, from $1 to $3.50 per doz.              |
  |                                                              |
  |             DAMASK TABLE CLOTHS, all sizes, from             |
  |                     $1.50 to $2.75 each.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |             Brown and Bleached TABLE DAMASK, all             |
  |               linen, from 40 to 75c. per yard.               |
  |                                                              |
  |             LINEN SHEETING, from 60 to 90c. per              |
  |                            yard.                             |
  |                                                              |
  |           PILLOW LINENS, from 30 to 70c. per yard            |
  |                                                              |
  |          LINEN SHEETS, for Single and Double Beds,           |
  |                     at $2.5O and upward.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Fringed HUCKABACK TOWELS, $1                 |
  |                     per doz. and upward.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |              Bleached HUCKABACK TOWELS, 12 1-2               |
  |                     per yard and upward.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |           Excellent Kitchen Towelling. In 25 yard            |
  |                   pieces, $3.25 per piece.                   |
  |                                                              |
  |             Several Hundred pieces Linen Nursery             |
  |           Diapers, various widths, at $1 per piece           |
  |                    below Current prices.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                          MARSEILLES                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                     QUILTS AND BLANKETS,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                        AT LOW PRICES.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |       Attention of House and Hotel Keepers is invited        |
  |                                                              |
  |                          BROADWAY,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                4TH AVE., 9TH AND 10TH STREETS                |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                          PUNCHINELLO.                        |
  |                                                              |
  | The first number of this Illustrated Humorous and Satirical  |
  | Weekly Paper was issued under date of April 2, 1870. The     |
  | Press and the Public in every State and Territory of the     |
  | Union endorse it as the best paper of the kind ever          |
  | published in America.                                        |
  |                                                              |
  | CONTENTS ENTIRELY ORIGINAL.                                  |
  |                                                              |
  | Subscription for one year, (with $2.00 premium,)      $4.00  |
  | "           "  six months, (without premium,)          2.00  |
  | "           "  three months, "         "               1.00  |
  | Single copies mailed free, for                          .10  |
  |                                                              |
  | We offer the following elegant premiums of L. PRANG & CO'S   |
  | CHROMOS for subscriptions as follows:                        |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year, and                            |
  |                                                              |
  | "The Awakening," (a Litter of Puppies.) Half chromo.         |
  | Size 8-3/8 by 11-1/8 ($2.00 picture,)--for            $4.00  |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and either of the               |
  | following $3.00 chromos:                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | Wild Roses. 12-1/8 x 9.                                      |
  | Dead Game. 11-1/8 x 8-5/8.                                   |
  | Easter Morning. 6-3/4 x 10-1/4--for                   $5.00  |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and either of the               |
  | following $5.00 chromos:                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | Group of Chickens;                                           |
  | Group of Ducklings;                                          |
  | Group of Quails. Each 10 x 12-1/8.                           |
  | The Poultry Yard. 10-1/8 x 14.                               |
  | The Barefoot Boy; Wild Fruit. Each 9-3/4 x 13.               |
  | Pointer and Quail; Spaniel and Woodcock. 10 x 12--for  $6.50 |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and either of the               |
  | following $6.00 chromos:                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | The Baby in Trouble; The Unconscious Sleeper; The Two        |
  | Friends. (Dog and Child.) Each 13 x 16-3/4.                  |
  | Spring; Summer: Autumn; 12-7/8 x 16-1/8.                     |
  | The Kid's Play Ground. 11 x 17-1/2--for                $7.00 |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and either of the               |
  | following $7.50 chromos                                      |
  |                                                              |
  | Strawberries and Baskets.                                    |
  | Cherries and Baskets.                                        |
  | Currants. Each 13x18.                                        |
  | Horses in a Storm. 22-1/4 x 15-1/4.                          |
  | Six Central Park Views. (A set.) 9-1/8 x 4-1/2--for    $8.00 |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and Six American Landscapes.    |
  | (A set.) 4-3/8 x 9, price $9.00--for                   $9.00 |
  |                                                              |
  | A copy of paper for one year and either of the               |
  | following $10 chromos:                                       |
  |                                                              |
  | Sunset in California. (Bierstadt) 18-1/8 x 12                |
  | Easter Morning. 14 x 21.                                     |
  | Corregio's Magdalen. 12-1/2 x 16-3/8.                        |
  | Summer Fruit, and Autumn Fruit. (Half chromos,)              |
  | 15-1/2 x 10-1/2, (companions, price $10.00 for the two),     |
  | for $10.00                                                   |
  |                                                              |
  | Remittances should be made in P.O. Orders, Drafts, or Bank   |
  | Checks on New York, or Registered letters. The paper will be |
  | sent from the first number, (April 2d, 1870,) when not       |
  | otherwise ordered.                                           |
  |                                                              |
  | Postage of paper is payable at the office where received,    |
  | twenty cents per year, or five cents per quarter, in         |
  | advance; the CHROMOS will be mailed free on receipt of       |
  | money.                                                       |
  |                                                              |
  | CANVASSERS WANTED, to whom liberal commissions will be       |
  | given. For special terms address the Company.                |
  |                                                              |
  | The first ten numbers will be sent to any one desirous of    |
  | seeing the paper before subscribing, for SIXTY CENTS. A      |
  | specimen copy sent to any one desirous of canvassing or      |
  | getting up a club, on receipt of postage stamp.              |
  |                                                              |
  | Address,                                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                                  |
  |                                                              |
  | P.O. Box 2783.                                               |
  |                                                              |
  | No. 83 Nassau Street, New York.                              |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: CROCODILE TEARS.]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |          "The Printing House of the United States."          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    GEO. F. NESBITT & CO.,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    General JOB PRINTERS,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                  BLANK BOOK Manufacturers,                   |
  |              STATIONERS, Wholesale and Retail,               |
  |             LITHOGRAPHIC Engravers and Printers.             |
  |             COPPER-PLATE Engravers and Printers,             |
  |                     CARD Manufacturers,                      |
  |                   ENVELOPE Manufacturers,                    |
  |                 FINE CUT and COLOR Printers.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |              163, 165, 167, and 169 PEARL ST.,               |
  |            73, 75, 77, and 79 PINE ST., New York.            |
  |                                                              |
  |       ADVANTAGES. All on the same premises, and under        |
  |          immediate supervision of the proprietors.           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |               Tourists and Pleasure Travelers                |
  |                                                              |
  | will be glad to learn that that the Erie Railway Company has |
  |                          prepared.                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                    COMBINATION EXCURSION                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                              OR                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                     Round Trip Tickets,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |         Valid during the entire season, and embracing        |
  |    Ithaca--headwaters of Cayuga Lake--Niagara Falls, Lake    |
  |   Ontario, the River St. Lawrence, Montreal, Quebec, Lake    |
  |  Champlain, Lake George, Saratoga, the White Mountains, and  |
  |  all principal points of interest in Northern New York, the  |
  |  Canadas, and New England. Also similar Tickets at reduced   |
  |  rates, through Lake Superior, enabling travelers to visit   |
  |    the celebrated Iron Mountains and Copper Mines of that    |
  | region. By applying at the Offices of the Erie Railway Co.,  |
  |     Nos. 241, 529 and 957 Broadway; 205 Chambers St.; 38     |
  |  Greenwich St.; cor. 125th St. and Third Avenue Harlem; 338  |
  |   Fulton St. Brooklyn; Depots foot of Chambers Street, and   |
  |  foot of 23rd St, New York; No. 3 Exchange Place, and Long   |
  |   Dock Depot, Jersey City, and the Agents at the principal   |
  | hotels, travelers can obtain just the Ticket they desire, as |
  |            well as all the necessary information.            |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |         PRANG'S LATEST PUBLICATIONS: "Wild Flowers,"         |
  |               "Water-Lilies," "Chas. Dickens."               |
  |                                                              |
  |    PRANG'S CHROMOS sold in all Art Stores throughout the     |
  |                            world.                            |
  |                                                              |
  |    PRANG'S ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE sent free on receipt of     |
  |                            stamp.                            |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         PUNCHINELLO.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |     With a large and varied experience in the management     |
  | and publication of a paper of the class herewith submitted,  |
  |    and with the still more positive advantage of an Ample    |
  |           Capital to justify the undertaking, the            |
  |                                                              |
  |                  PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                   OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK,                   |
  |                                                              |
  |         Presents to the public for approval, the new         |
  |                                                              |
  |              ILLUSTRATED HUMOROUS AND SATIRICAL              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        WEEKLY PAPER,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                         PUNCHINELLO,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |          The first number of which was issued under          |
  |                       date of April 2.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                      ORIGINAL ARTICLES,                      |
  |                                                              |
  | Suitable for the paper, and Original Designs, or suggestive  |
  | ideas or sketches for illustrations, upon the topics of the  |
  |  day, are always acceptable and will be paid for liberally.  |
  |                                                              |
  |      Rejected communications cannot be returned, unless      |
  |                 postage stamps are inclosed.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                            TERMS:                            |
  |                                                              |
  |  One copy, per year, in advance                       $4.00  |
  |                                                              |
  |  Single copies                                          .10  |
  |                                                              |
  |         A specimen copy will be mailed free upon the         |
  |                    receipt of ten cents.                     |
  |                                                              |
  |     One copy, with the Riverside Magazine, or any other      |
  |  magazine or paper, price, $2.50, for                 $5.50  |
  |                                                              |
  |  One copy, with any magazine or paper, price, $4, for $7.00  |
  |                                                              |
  |  All communications, remittances, etc., to be addressed to   |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                    No. 83 Nassau Street,                     |
  |                   P.O. Box 2783, NEW YORK.                   |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                 THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.                 |
  |                                                              |
  | The New Burlesque Serial, Written expressly for PUNCHINELLO  |
  |                     BY ORPHEUS C. KERR,                      |
  |                                                              |
  | Commenced in No. 11, will be continued weekly throughout the |
  |                            year.                             |
  |                                                              |
  | A sketch of the eminent author written by his bosom friend,  |
  |                 with superb illustrations of                 |
  |                                                              |
  |    1ST. THE AUTHOR'S PALATIAL RESIDENCE AT BEGAD'S HILL,     |
  |                 TICKNOR'S FIELDS, NEW JERSEY                 |
  |                                                              |
  | 2D. THE AUTHOR AT THE DOOR OF SAID PALATIAL RESIDENCE, taken |
  |  as he appears "Every Saturday," will also be found at the   |
  |                         same number.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |   Single Copies, for sale by all newsmen, (or mailed from    |
  |                this office, free,) Ten Cents.                |
  |                                                              |
  |     Subscription for One Year, one copy, with $2 Chromo      |
  |                         Premium, $4.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |  Those desirous of receiving the paper containing this new   |
  |    serial, which promises to be the best ever written by     |
  | ORPHEUS C. KERR, should subscribe now, to insure its regular |
  |                       receipt weekly.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |   We will send the first Ten Numbers of PUNCHINELLO to any   |
  |  one who wishes to see them, in view of subscribing, on the  |
  |                   receipt of SIXTY CENTS.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                           Address,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |   PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, P.O. Box 2783. 83 Nassau   |
  |                        St., New York                         |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
Geo. W. Wheat & Co. Printers, No. 8 Spruce Street.
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |          "The Printing House of the United States."          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    GEO. F. NESBITT &CO.,                     |
  |                                                              |
  |                    General JOB PRINTERS,                     |
  |                  BLANK BOOK Manufacturers,                   |
  |              STATIONERS, Wholesale and Retail,               |
  |             LITHOGRAPHIC Engravers and Printers,             |
  |             COPPER-PLATE Engravers and Printers,             |
  |                     CARD Manufacturers,                      |
  |                   ENVELOPE Manufacturers,                    |
  |                 FINE CUT and COLOR Printers.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |               163,165,167, and 169 PEARL ST.,                |
  |                                                              |
  |            73, 75, 77, and 79 PINE ST., New-York.            |
  |                                                              |
  |      ADVANTAGES--All on the same premises, and under the     |
  |          immediate supervision of the proprietors.           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       TO NEWS-DEALERS.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                    PUNCHINELLO'S MONTHLY.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                 THE FIVE NUMBERS FOR APRIL,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Bound in a Handsome Cover,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |          Will be ready May 2d. Price, Fifty Cents.           |
  |                                                              |
  |                          THE TRADE                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                       SUPPLIED BY THE                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                    AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |           Who are now prepared to receive Orders.            |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  HARRISON BRADFORD & CO.'S                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                         STEEL PENS.                          |
  |                                                              |
  | These pens are of a finer quality, more durable, and cheaper |
  |    than any other Pen in the market. Special attention is    |
  |  called to the following grades, as being better suited for  |
  |       business purposes than any Pen manufactured. The       |
  |                                                              |
  |            "505," "22," and the "Anti-Corrosive,"            |
  |                                                              |
  |            We recommend for bank and office use.             |
  |                                                              |
  |                     D. APPLETON &. CO.,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |               _Sole Agents for United States_               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: Vol. 1  No. 5]
SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW-YORK.
       *       *       *       *       *
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  | _CONANT'S PATENT BINDERS for "Punchinello," to preserve the  |
  |  paper for binding, will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of   |
  |  One Dollar, by "Punchinello Publishing Company," 83 Nassau  |
  |                   Street, New-York City._                    |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |  PRANG'S CHROMOS are celebrated for their close resemblance  |
  |  to Oil Paintings. Sold in All Stores throughout the World.  |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |    PRANG'S WEEKLY BULLETIN OF CHROMOS.--"Easter Morning"     |
  |      "Family Scene in Pompeii" "Whittier's Birthplace,"      |
  | Illustrated Catalogue sent, on receipt of stamp, by L. PRANG |
  |                        & CO., Boston.                        |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |               APPLICATIONS FOR ADVERTISING IN                |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO"                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                    SHOULD BE ADDRESSED TO                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                        J. NICKINSON,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                         Room No. 4,                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                      83 NASSAU STREET.                       |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |           The Greatest Horse Book ever Published.            |
  |                                                              |
  |                        HIRAM WOODRUFF                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                            ON THE                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                  TROTTING HORSE OF AMERICA!                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                _How to Train, and Drive Him_.                |
  |                                                              |
  |  With Reminiscences of the Trotting Turf. A handsome 12mo,   |
  |   with a splendid steel-plate portrait of Hiram Woodruff.    |
  |                  Price, extra cloth, $2.25.                  |
  |                                                              |
  | The New-York Tribune says: "_This is a Masterly Treatise by  |
  | the Master of his Profession_--the ripened product of forty  |
  | years' experience in Handling, Training, Riding, and Driving |
  | the Trotting Horse. There is no book like It in any language |
  |             on the subject of which it treats."              |
  |                                                              |
  |  BONNER says in the _Ledger_, "It is a book for which every  |
  |   man who owns a horse ought to subscribe. The information   |
  | which it contains is worth ten times its cost." For sale by  |
  | all booksellers, or single copies sent post-paid on receipt  |
  |                          of price.                           |
  |                                                              |
  |               Agents wanted. J. B. FORD & CO.,               |
  |                                                              |
  |               Printing-House Square, New-York,               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                   Thomas J. Rayner & Co;,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                      29 LIBERTY STREET,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                          New-York,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                     MANUFACTURERS OF THE                     |
  |                                                              |
  |          _Finest Cigars made in the United States_.          |
  |                                                              |
  | All sizes and styles. Prices very moderate. Samples sent to  |
  |         any responsible house. Also importers of the         |
  |                                                              |
  |                      _"FUSBOS" BRAND_,                       |
  |                                                              |
  | Equal in quality to the best of the Havana market, and from  |
  |               ten to twenty per cent cheaper.                |
  |                                                              |
  | Restaurant, Bar, Hotel, and Saloon trade will save money by  |
  |                          calling at                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                      29 LIBERTY STREET.                      |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      Notice to Ladies.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                           DIBBLEE,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Of 854 Broadway,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |    Has just received a large assortment of all the latest    |
  |                          styles of                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Chignons, Chatelaines, etc.,                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                         FROM PARIS,                          |
  |                                                              |
  |        Comprising the following beautiful varieties:         |
  |                                                              |
  |            La Coquette, La Plenitude, Le Bouquet,            |
  |                                                              |
  |               La Sirene, L'Imperatrice, etc.,                |
  |                                                              |
  |              At prices varying from $2 upward.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       WEVILL & HAMMAR,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Wood Engravers,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                      No. 208 BROADWAY,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW-YORK.                           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         PUNCHINELLO.                         |
  |                                                              |
  |   With a large and varied experience in the management and   |
  | publication of a paper of the class herewith submitted, and  |
  |  with the still more positive advantage of an Ample Capital  |
  |               to justify the undertaking, the                |
  |                                                              |
  |                  PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |           Presents to the public for approval, the           |
  |                                                              |
  |            NEW ILLUSTRATED HUMOROUS AND SATIRICAL            |
  |                                                              |
  |                        WEEKLY PAPER,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                         PUNCHINELLO,                         |
  |                                                              |
  | The first number of which will be Issued under date of April |
  |               2, 1870, and thereafter weekly.                |
  |                                                              |
  |  PUNCHINELLO will be _National_, and not _local_; and will   |
  |   endeavor to become a household word in all parts of the    |
  |            country; and to that end has secured a            |
  |                                                              |
  |                VALUABLE CORPS OF CONTRIBUTORS                |
  |                                                              |
  |   in various sections of the Union, while its columns will   |
  |    always be open to appropriate first-class literary and    |
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[Illustration: THE WARNING OF THE BELLE
LOOK OUT FOR THE TRAIN]
       *       *       *       *       *
PATRIOTIC ADORATION.
A TALE OF PHILADELPHIA.
    People of the Quaker City,
      How the world must stand aghast
    At your wondrous veneration
      For those relics of the past,
    Kept in such precise condition,
      Fostered with such tender care--
    Don't, oh! don't the Philadelphians
    Love old Independence Square?
    Splendid are its walks and grass-plots
      Where the bootblacks base-ball play,
    And its seats resembling toad-stools,
      On which loafers lounge all day,
    Waiting for their luck, or gazing
      At the office of the Mayor--
    Don't, oh! don't the Philadelphians
      Love old Independence Square?
    Then, behold the fine old State-house
      Cleanly kept inside and out,
    Where the faithful office-holders
      Squirt tobacco-juice about:
    Placards highly ornamental
      Decorate its outward wall--
    Don't, oh! don't the Philadelphians
      Love old Independence Hall?
    O! ye gods and little fishes!
      Could bill-sticker be so vile
    As to paste up nasty posters
      On the sacred classic pile?
    Greece and Rome yet have their relics,
      But what are they? very small.
    Never half so venerated
      As old Independence Hall.
       *       *       *       *       *
PERIODICAL LITERATURE.
PUNCHINELLO has hitherto refrained from criticising the periodicals of
the day, from the mistaken idea that superlative excellence was not
expected in every number of every daily or weekly journal in the land.
He did not know that, if every such journal was not edited so as to suit
the comprehension of all classes of cursory critics, it should be
unqualifiedly condemned. Supposing that a painter should not condemn a
paper for publishing a musical article beyond his comprehension, and
that an architect ought not to get in a rage because he finds in his
favorite journal a paper on beavers which makes him feel insignificant,
PUNCHINELLO has generally looked around upon his fellow-journalists, and
thought them very good fellows, who generally published very good
papers. He did not find superlative excellence in any of their issues,
but then he did not look for it. He might as well pretend to look for
that in the journalists themselves, or in society at large. But he has
lately learned, from the critics of the period, that he ought to look
for it, and that it is the proper thing nowadays to pitch into every
journal which does not, in every part, please every body, whether they
be smart or dull; those quick of appreciation, or those slow gentlemen
who always come in with their congratulations upon the birth of a joke
at the time its funeral is taking place. And so, PUNCHINELLO will do as
others do, and will occasionally view, from the loop-hole in his
curtain, the successes and failures of his neighbors, and will give his
patrons the benefit of his observations.
The first thing he notices to-day is, that the _Evening Snail_ of last
night is not so good as it was a fortnight ago; or, let us think a
bit--it may have been a good number at the beginning of last month that
he was thinking of; at all events, this last issue is inferior. The
matter on the first page is not printed in nearly as good type as the
original periodicals had it, and while the letters in the heading are
quite fair, it is very noticeable that the I's are very defective, and
there is no C in it. The "Gleanings" are excellent, and it would be
advisable to have more of them--if indeed such a thing were possible in
this case. The spider-work inside shows no acquaintance with the
writings of BACH or GLIDDON, and there is nothing about the Spectrum
Analysis in any part of the paper. Besides, the paper is too stiff and
rattles too much, and PUNCHINELLO could never abide the color of the
editor's pantaloons. Why will not people dress and write so that every
body can admire and understand them. Especially in regard to witty
things and breastpins They ought to be loud, overpowering, and so
glaring that people could not help seeing them. And they ought to be a
little cheap, too, or average people won't comprehend them. In both
cases paste (and scissors) pays better than diamonds. The reports of
private parties in the _Snail_ are, however, very good, and if it would
confine its original matter to such subjects, it could not fail to
       *       *       *       *       *
A Query for Physicians.
Are people's tastes apt to become Vichy-ated by the excessive use of
certain mineral waters?
       *       *       *       *       *
"Behold, how Pleasant a Thing 't is," etc.
Boston has a couple of clergymen who have fallen out upon matters not
precisely theological. In the summer, the Rev. Mr. MURRAY leaves his
sheep, to shoot deer by torchlight in the Adirondacks. This the Rev. Mr.
ALGER, in addressing the Suppression of Cruelty to Animals Society,
denounces as extremely wicked. From all which Mr. PUNCHINELLO, taking up
his discourse, infers,
_First_. That it is a great deal more wicked to shoot deer by torchlight
than by daylight.
_Secondly_. That the Rev. MURRAY and the Rev. ALGER are of different
religious persuasions.
_Thirdly and lastly_. That the Rev. Mr. ALGER doesn't love venison.
P. S.  Persons desiring to present Mr. PUNCHINELLO with a fine haunch,
(in the season,) may shoot it by daylight, moonlight, torchlight, or by
a Drummond light, as most convenient.
       *       *       *       *       *
We are indebted to Mr. SARONY for a number of brilliant photographs of
celebrities of the day. Lovely woman is well represented the batch, with
all the characters of which PUNCHINELLO hopes to present his readers,
from time to time.
       *       *       *       *       *
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New-York.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: ALL ABOARD FOR HOLLAND!]
PUNCHINELLO understands that a performance is soon to take place at the
Academy of Music, for the benefit of GEORGE HOLLAND, the well-known and
ever-green "veteran" of "the stage." It pleases PUNCHINELLO to know that
a combination of talent and beauty is to be brought together for so
worthy a purpose. Seventy-four years ago, when GEORGE HOLLAND was a
small child, PUNCHINELLO used to dandle him upon his knee. Hardly four
years have passed since PUNCHINELLO was convulsed by the _Tony Lumpkin_
of HOLLAND. He distinctly remembers, too, administering hot whiskey
punch to little boy HOLLAND with a tea-spoon, which may in some measure
account for the Spirit subsequently infused by the capital comedian into
the numerous bits of character presented by him. Considering these
facts, it is manifestly an incumbent duty on the part of PUNCHINELLO to
request the earnest attention of his readers to the subject of GEORGE
HOLLAND'S benefit, all particulars concerning which will be given due
time through the public press. It used to be said, long ago, that "the
Dutch have taken Holland," Well, let our own modern Knickerbockers
improve upon that notion, by taking HOLLAND'S tickets. Remember how,
in the early settlement of the country, it was Holland that made
New-York, and see that New-York now returns the compliment, and makes
HOLLAND. Convivial songsters frequently remind us that--
    --"a Hollander's draught should potent be,
    And deep as the rolling Zuyder Zee."
Mind this, all ye Hollanders who would give your support to our HOLLAND.
Let your drafts be potent, your cheeks heavy, your attendance punctual.
Make the affair complete; so that when, here-after, a comparison is
sought for something that has been a sued people will say of it--"As big
as that Bumper of HOLLAND'S."
       *       *       *       *       *
ASTRONOMICAL CONVERSATIONS.
(BY A FATHER AND DAUGHTER RESIDING ON THE PLANET VENUS.)
FATHER (_to_ DAUGHTER, _who is looking through a telescope_.) Yes HELENE,
that is the Planet Tellus, or Earth. The darker streaks are land; the
bright spots, water. We begin with a low power, which shows only the
masses; presently you will have the pleasure of discriminating not only
rivers and chains of mountains, but cities--single houses--even Human
Beings! Yes, you shall this very night read page of PUNCHINELLO, a paper
so bright that every word appears surrounded by a halo!
DAUGHTER. O father! do that _now_. How delightful, to actually read the
works of these singular creature's, and become familiar with their
extraordinary ideas! Were the scintillations you spoke of the other
night, that were seen all over the Western Continent, the result of the
flashing of these radiant pages?
F. Undoubtedly, my child; they began with the first issue of the paper,
and have since regularly increased in brightness, just as It has.
D. It really seems as though Earth would answer for a Moon, by and by, at
F. You are quite right, HELENE; it will. Or say, rather, a Sun. For you
will observe that it is a _warm_ light; not cool, as reflected light
always is. It is Original.
D. Well, this shows that PUNCHINELLO must have some Heart, as well as
Head. Come, put on your highest power now, and let us seem to pay good
old Tellus a visit!
[_The indulgent Father complies, and, is at some pains to adjust the
F. Now, dear! take a good look.
D. (_Looking intently_.) Oh! how splendid--how splendid! _Do_ see the
beautiful things in those Shop Windows! It must be the Spring Season
there! _Do_ see those lovely lumps on the backs of those creatures'
heads! What place is it, Father?
F. That? It's New-York; and the street is the famous Broadway.
D. O dear! how I _would_ like to go shopping there, this minute!--for I
see it is afternoon in that quarter. Is there no way of getting
F. (_Laughing heartily_.) Well, well, HELENE! That's pretty good, for
the daughter of an astronomer! Do you know that at this precise moment
you are Forty-five Million, Six Hundred and Fifty-four Thousand, Four
Hundred and Ninety-one Miles and a half from those Muslins! I'll tell
you, Sis, what _could_ be done: Drop a line to the Editor of
PUNCHINELLO, and tell him what you want. He'll get it, some way.
D. That I will, instantly! [_Turns to her portfolio, while her father
turns to the telescope_.]
"DEAR MR. EDITOR: Pardon the seeming _boldness_ of a _stranger:_ you are
no _stranger to me!_ Long, _long_ have I deceived that _good man_, my
father, by _pretending_ to know _nothing_ of the Earth, or of his
_instrument!_ Many and _many_ a night, _unknown to him_, have I gone to
the _Telescope_, to satisfy the _restless craving_ I feel to know more
of _your Planet_, and of a _person of your sex_ whom I have _often_
beheld, and watched with _eagerness_ as he came and went. How
_thrilling_ the thought, that he cannot even _know of my existence_, and
that we are _forever separated!_ This, good and _dear_ Editor, is my one
Thought, my one great Agony.
"It has occurred to me that, in this _dreadful_ situation--my Passion
being sufficiently Hopeless, as any one may see--you might at least
afford me some slight _alleviation_, by undertaking to let Him know of
the _interest_ he excites in this far-off star! Let me describe my
charmer, so that you will be able to identify him. He is of fair size,
with a rolling gait and a smiling countenance, has light hair and
complexion, wears often a White Hat, (on the back of his head--where
Thoughtful men always place the hat, I've been told by observers,) and
now and then carelessly leaves one leg of his trowsers at the top of his
boot. I have often seen him, with a bundle of papers in his pocket,
entering a large building with the words "_Tribune_ Office" over the
door--and I _adore_ him! O excellent Editor! tell him this, I _implore_
you! Be kind to your distant and _love-lorn_ friend,
F. What did you say, Helene?
D. I was saying that I wished to look a little longer at the fashions in
F. Well, well--I believe the Fashions are all that these women think of!
There--look away! I presume they have changed considerably since you
looked before! When do you wish to begin your lessons in Astronomy?
D. Next week. Father; let me see: we will say, next week--Thursday.
F. Very well; I shall remind you.
D. (_who is determined to have the last word, any way_.) Very well.
       *       *       *       *       *
Beach's Soliloquy on entering his Pneumatic Chamber.
"TU-BE or not tu-be."
       *       *       *       *       *
Reflection by a Tallow-chandler.
Though a man be the Mould of fashion, yet he cannot light himself to bed
by the Dip in his back.
       *       *       *       *       *
PLAYS AND SHOWS.
[Illustration: 'M']
_MEN AND ACRES,_ the new comedy at WALLACK'S, is one of the best of
TAYLOR'S pieces, and a decided improvement upon the carpenter work of
BOUCICAULT. It has been rechristened by Mr. WALLACK, and its former
name--_Old Men and New Acres, or New Aches and Old Manors,_ or something
else of that sort--has been conveniently shortened. If it does not
convince us that the author has improved since he first began to write
plays, it certainly reminds us that there is such a thing as _Progress_.
In the latter play, Mr. J.W. WALLACK was a civil engineer. In the
present drama, he is an uncivil tradesman. Both appeal to the levelling
tendencies of the age; and in each, the author has done his "level
best"--as Mr. GRANT WHITE would say--to flatter the Family Circle at the
expense of the Boxes.
The cast includes a Vague Baronet and his Managing Wife, their Slangy
Daughter, their Unpleasant Neighbor and his wife and daughter, an
Unintelligible Dutchman, an Innocuous Youth, a Disagreeable Lawyer, and
the Merchant Prince. This is the sort of way in which they conduct
_Act_ 1. _Disagreeable Lawyer to Vague Baronet:_ "You are ruined, and
your estate is mortgaged to a Merchant Prince. What do you intend to
_Vague Baronet._ "I will ask my wife what I think about it."
_Enter Managing Wife._ "Ruined, are we? Allow me to remark,
Fiddlesticks! Get the Merchant to take our third-story hall-bedroom for
a week, and I'll soon clear off the mortgage."
_Enter Slangy Daughter._ "O ma! there was such a precious guy at the
ball last night, and I had no end of a lark with him. Good gracious!
here comes the duffer himself."
_Enter Merchant Prince. (Aside.)_ "So here's the Vague Baronet and his
wife. And there's the slangy girl I fell in love with. Nice lot they
are!" (_To Managing Wife._) "Madam, there is nothing, so grand as the
majesty of trade. Your rank and blood are all gammon. We Merchant
Princes are the only people fit to live. However, I'll condescend to
speak to you."
_Managing Wife. (Aside.)_ "How noble! What a gentlemanly person he
really is!" _(To Merchant Prince.)_ "Sir, I bid you welcome. Here is my
daughter, who was just praising your beauty and accomplishments. I leave
you to entertain her." (_Exeunt Baronet, Wife, and Lawyer_.)
_Merchant Prince (placing his chair next to Slangy Daughter's, and
leaning his elbow on her.)_ "There is nothing like trade. We tradesmen
alone are great. We despise the whole lot of clean and idle aristocrats.
I keep a Gin Palace in Liverpool. Does your bloated aristocracy do half
as much for suffering humanity?"
_Slangy Daughter._ "Speak on, speak ever thus, O Noble Being! It's
awfully jolly!"
_Curtain falls, and Baker wakes up to lead his orchestra through the
mazes of "Shoo Fly."_
_Appreciative Lady._ "Isn't it nice? Miss HENRIQUES'S dress is perfectly
beautiful, and it sounds so cunning to hear her talk slang."
_Second Appreciative Lady._ "How handsome ROCKWELL looks! Just like a
real baronet, my dear!"
_Other Appreciative Ladies._ "The dresses at WALLACK'S are always
perfectly exquisite. I mean to have my next dress made with a green silk
fichu, a moire antique bertha, and little point lace peplums and
gussets, just like Miss MESTAYER'S. Won't it be sweet?"
_All the Counter-Jumpers in the Theatre._ "JIM WALLACK'S the boy! Don't
he talk up to those aristocratic snobs, though?"
_Act 2. Enter Unpleasant Neighbor and Unintelligible German. The former
says,_ "You're sure there's an iron mine on the Baronet's land?"
_Unintelligible German._ "Ya! Das ist um-um-um."
_Enter Merchant Prince and Slangy Daughter. Exeunt the other fellows._
_Merchant Prince._ "There is nothing like the grandeur of trade; and yet
we tradesmen are not proud. See! I offer to marry you."
_Slangy daughter._ "I love you wildly! _(Aside.)_ I do hope he won't
rumple my hair."
_Merchant Prince._ "Come to my arrums! The majesty of trade is so
infinitely above any thing else"--_and so forth._
_Enter Managing Wife._ "Take her, noble Merchant, and be happy
_(Aside.)_ This settles the affair of the mortgage." _(To Daughter)_
"Come, darling, we'll go and tell your father." _(They go.)_
_Enter Unpleasant Neighbor._ "Here's a telegram for you. No bad news, I
_Merchant Prince._ "I am ruined unless you lend me L40,000. Do it, and I
will assign to you the mortgage on the baronet's property. The majesty
of trade is something which"--
_Unpleasant Neighbor._ "Here it is." _(Aside.)_ "Now I'll get possession
of the estate and the iron-mine."
_Enter Managing Wife._ "Ruined, are you? Of course you can't have my
daughter now."
_Merchant Prince._ "I resign her. We tradesmen are infinitely greater
than you aristocrats."
_Curtain falls, Baker wakes up. "Shoo Fly" by the Orchestra, and remarks
on dress by the ladies as before. Counter-jumpers go out to drink to the
majesty of trade, having grown perceptibly taller since the play began._
_Act 3. Unprincipled Neighbor to Unintelligible Dutchman._ "Have you got
the analysis of the iron ore?"
_Unintelligible Dutchman._ "Ya! Das its um-um-um."
_Unprincipled Neighbor._ "All right! Now I'll foreclose the mortgage,
and will be richer than ever."
_Enter Vague Baronet, and Wife and Daughter, and Lawyer. To them
collectively remarks the Unprincipled Neighbor,_ "The mortgage is due.
As you can't pay, you've got to move out."
_Disagreeable Lawyer._ "Not much! Here's an analysis of iron ore found
on our land. We raised money on the mine, and are ready to pay off the
_Enter Merchant Prince._ "Here's an analysis of the iron ore. I told
them all about it. We tradesmen are great, but we will sometimes help
even a wretched aristocrat."
_Slangy Daughter._ "Here's an analysis of the iron ore. Now I will marry
my noble Merchant, and make him rich again; for there's dead loads of
iron on the Governor's land, you bet!"
_They all produce analyses of the ore, and the play itself being o'er,
the curtain falls._
_Exasperated critic, who has sent for twelve seats, and has been
politely refused._ "I'd like to abuse it, if there was a chance; but
there isn't. The play is really good, and I can't find much fault with
the acting. However, I'll pitch into STODDARD for swearing, which his
'Unprincipled Neighbor' does to an unnecessary extent, and I'll say that
JIM WALLACK is too old and gouty to play the 'Merchant Prince,' and
doesn't quite forget that he used to play in the Bowery."
_Every body else._ "Did you ever see a play better acted? And did you
ever see actresses better dressed?"
And PUNCHINELLO is constrained to answer the latter question with an
emphatic No! As to the acting, it might be improved were Mr. STODDARD to
play the character for which he is cast, instead of insisting upon
playing nothing but STODDARD. But to all the rest of the actors, not
forgetting Mr. RINGGOLD, who plays the insignificant part of the
"Innocuous Youth," PUNCHINELLO is pleased to accord his gracious
       *       *       *       *       *
A Balmy Idea.
According to Miss ANTHONY, the crying evil with women is that they will
blubber; but it must be remembered that out of this blubber they make
oil to pour into our conjugal wounds.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Suit for Damages.
Any clothes in a storm.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE POLITICAL MILL-ENNIUM.]
       *       *       *       *       *
HINTS UPON HIGH ART.
Observant visitors to the National Academy of Design will allow that a
tendency to greatness is beginning to develop itself in certain
directions among our artists. In landscape some of them are almost
immense. The works of PORPHYRO warm the walls with rays of splendor, or
cool the lampooned sight-line with pearly gradations, as the case may
be. MANDRAKE renders feelingly the summer uplands and groves, and
SILVERBARK the melancholy autumnal woods. BYTHESEA infuses with
sentiment even the blue wreaths of smoke that curl up from the distant
ridge against which loom the concentrated lovers that he selects for his
idyllic romances. Gushingly he does his work, but thoroughly; and there
are other flowers than lackadaisies to be discerned in his herbage.
GUSTIBUS blows gently the foliage aside, and gives us glimpses through
it of rural contentment in connection with a mill, or some other
interesting object beyond. The pencil of SAGEGREEN imbues canvases, both
large and small, with infinite variety and force; and it is to
SKETCHMORE that the great lakes owe their remarkable reputation as
pieces of water with poems growing out of their broad lily-pads. Very
tender are the pastoral banks and brooksides of LEAFHOPPER. ELFINLOCKS
takes up his pencil, and lo! a hazy, mazy, lazy, dreamy vista where it
has touched. But hold! Our critical Incubus has taken the bit between
her teeth, and is beginning to run away with us. Stop that; and let our
readers enumerate the other first American landscape painters for
Not so strong are our artists in domestic incidents and compositions of
life and character. We have STUNNINGTON, to be sure, whose traits of
American expression, whether white or colored, are most true to the
life; and there's BARLEYMOW, who will twist you an eclogue from the tail
of his foreground pig. Others there be; but space has its limits, and we
As for our portrait limners, their name is Legion, and that
comprehensive name must go for all. Like BENVENUTO CELLINI they shall be
known for their jugs; and their transmission to posterity on the heads
of families is a thing to be reckoned on as sure.
For the higher flights of art the American painter is by no manner of
means endowed with the wings of his native eagle--wings that agitate the
cerulean vault, spattering it with splashes of creamy cloud-spray, and
churning into butter the stretches of the Milky Way. History has indeed
been illustrated by American art, but has it been enriched? The
WASHINGTONS and the WEBSTERS, the CLAYS and the LINCOLNS, have had their
memories dreadfully lampooned on canvas. Allegory does not inspire the
great American pencil. Tall art there is, and enough of it "at that;"
but of high art we have none to speak of, except the canvases that are
placed over doorways in the galleries of the Academy, and, in the sense
of elevation, may consequently be spoken of as high. All this is wrong.
Alas! that we should write it. Would that we could right it! And to
think of the musty subjects that our historical and allegorical men
select. Ho! young men--away with your CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS; relegate
your METAMORA to his proper limbo; let WASHINGTON alone; and LINCOLN;
and OSCEOLA the Savage; and POCAHONTAS, and all the rest. Leave them
alone; and, taking fresh subjects, dip your brushes in brains, as old
OPIE or somebody else said, and go to work with a will. No fresh
subjects to be had, you say? Bosh! absurd interlocutor that you are.
Here's a bundle of 'em ready cut to hand. We charge you no money for
them, and you may take your choice.
SUBJECTS FOR WORKS OF HIGH ART.
PROVIDENCE tempering the wind to the shorn lamb.
ABSENCE OF MIND marking a box of paper shirt-collars with indelible ink.
MILTON "going it blind."
The late Mr. WILLIAM COBBETT teaching his sons to shave with cold water.
ST. PATRICK emptying the snakes out of his boots.
TRUE LOVE never running smooth.
NO MAN acting _Hero_ to his _valet de chambre_.
ROBERT BONNER taking DEXTER by the forelock with one hand, and TIME with
Subjects like these might be worked out to advantage. The field in which
they are to be found is almost unlimited; and they possess abundantly
the two grand essentials to success in art at the present time, as well
as in literature--novelty and sensation.
       *       *       *       *       *
H.G. and Terpsichore.
AMONG the strange revelations about _Tribune_ people elicited during the
MCFARLAND trial, was the bit of gossip about Mr. GREELEY going to
Saratoga to "trip the light fantastic toe." That Mr. GREELEY'S toe is
"fantastic," every body who has ever inspected his "Congress gaiters"
must know, but as to its lightness we have our doubts. "What I know
about dancing" would be a capital subject for H.G. to handle, and we
hope that he will take Steps for doing it.
       *       *       *       *       *
Sweeny's New Charter.
      How doth the busy Peter B.,
       Improve each shining hour!
      From nettled young Democracy,
       He plucks the safety-flower.
       *       *       *       *       *
The POPE is said to be "out of Spirits." Why doesn't he come to
New-York, where he can get plenty of the article, either in the sense of
the Tap or in that of the Rap?
       *       *       *       *       *
"He who was Born to be Hanged," etc.
On one of the mornings of the MCFARLAND trial, a very importunate person
attempted to force his way into the court-room, which, as he was told,
was already crowded "to suffocation." To this he retorted that he
"wasn't born to be suffocated." That's in substance what the late JACK
REYNOLDS said, and _he_ was mistaken.
       *       *       *       *       *
The Difference.
Rice riots are reported as raging in all the ports of Japan. Rye was the
principal mover in the famous conscription riots of New-York.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Celestial Idea.
No wonder the Chinese theatre in San Francisco is a success, considering
how skilful the actors must be in catching the Cue.
       *       *       *       *       *
Did you ever hear of my friend BOOTSBY? "No." That's rather queer. I
see--you've been out of town. BOOTSBY is a man of standing--of decided
standing, I may say. He stands, in fact, a great deal. The heavy
standing round he does is enormous when the limited capacity of a single
mortal is taken in view. BOOTSBY stands round among every class of
people, and especially of politicians and potationers. He stands round
to talk, to hear, and especially to drink. The power of the man in this
last matter is wonderful, and the puzzle is, that his standing (and
perpendicularity) is not perceptibly affected. Of course there are times
when BOOTSBY'S standing is not so good. In so slippery a place as Wall
Street, it is found to be less certain; while in a crowd on Broadway,
waiting for a bus, it cannot be said to maintain a very remarkable
firmness. But as a whole, and as the world goes, BOOTSBY is a man of
standing. In the altitude of six feet ten, he may be called a man of
high standing. He feels proud of the fact. "Is it not better to be a
mountain than a mole?" he often asks in a proudly sneering manner of his
neighbor PUGGS, who is about as far up in the world as the top of a
yard-stick. It is very true that size is not quality, and a seven-footer
may be no better than a three-footer; but it is observed that a Short
Man is rarely any thing else. His stature is his measure throughout. My
own impression of myself is, that I don't care to be short; but if the
alternative were forced upon me, I should choose that of person rather
than of purse. BOOTSBY does not care much about money, and he carries
very little. Some people are like BOOTSBY, but most people are not. The
ladies, it is true, never, or rarely, want money. Like newspapers and
club-houses, they are self-supporting. In fact they surround themselves
with supporters which stay tightly. Mrs. TODD is peculiar in her wants
pecuniary. She, good soul, never wants (or keeps) money long, but she
doesn't want it _little_. She prefers it like onions, in a large bunch,
and strong. The reason why most women do not want money is because they
have no use for it. They never dress; they never wear jewelry; silks and
satins have no charms in their eyes; laces, ribbons, shawls never tempt.
To exist and walk upright in simpleness and quiet is the sum of their
desires. Dear creatures! how is it that they never want?
My neighbor, Mr. DROWSE, desires to know where you get all your funny
things for PUNCHINELLO? He knows they are there, does Mr. DROWSE; for he
gets my copy of the penny postman, and he keeps it, too. It is the only
good taste my neighbor has displayed of late years. I tell Mr. DROWSE
that you make your fun. He further asks, Where? I tell him in the
attic--up there where they keep the salt. He desires to know the size of
attic. Of course he has never seen your noble, capacious, alabaster
forehead, else he would perceive the source of those scintillations of
light and warmth which radiate throughout the universe every Saturday
for only ten cents. He is curious also to know about the salt, and
doesn't comprehend how or where you use it. He used to use it when a boy
in catching birds by putting the briny compound on the tails of the
same, and _that_ he used to call "fun alive;" but he don't see it--the
salt--about PUNCHINELLO. I suspect Mr. DROWSE doesn't see the sellers,
(certainly he avoids them when PUNCHINELLO is offered, much to my
mortification, and one dime to my cost,) and so is not likely to discern
the source of the fun. I merely informed Mr. DROWSE that the editor was
very tall, very handsome, with very black skin and rosy hair, (at which
he opened his eyes with astonishment, and asked if I meant so; at which
I said, "Yes, I guess so,") and that he laughed out of his nose, eyes,
head, and hands, as well as his mouth. DROWSE wants to see the editor
very much. He has seen men with black skins and hearts, (for he used to
know lots of politicians;) but wants to put his vision on some "rosy
hair"--and when he does, no doubt his gaze will be fixed. It is healthy
sometimes to have the gaze fixed; and often, like sauce-pans and
sermons, it has to be fixed. When Mr. DROWSE calls at 83, please show
him in Parlor 6 with the Brussels, fresco-work, and lace curtains.
April is a model month. So serene, steady, clear, and balmy. Nothing
but blue sky, gentle zephyrs, kissing breezes, genial suns by day and
sparkling stars by night. PUNCHINELLO no doubt likes sparkling
stars--stars of magnitude--stars that show what they are. PUNCHINELLO
perhaps goes to NIBLO'S, and not only sees plenty stars, but plenty of
them. But of April. It is called "fickle;" but that's a slander. "Every
thing by turns and nothing long"--that is a libel on which a suit could
be hung. The same vile falsehood is cruelly uttered of some women, when
every body knows, or should know, that these same women are nothing of
the sort. Who ever knew a fickle woman?
Where in history is there record of such an Impossibility? Fickle--that
implies a change of mind. What woman ever changed her mind any more than
her hands? Nonsense, avaunt!--banished be slander! April is _not_
fickle--woman is _not_ fickle. As one is evenly beautiful, divinely
serene, bewitchingly winning, so is the other sunny, cerulean, balmy,
paradisiacal. April for ever--after that the rest of the calendar.
Does PUNCHINELLO believe in the Woman Movement? TODD does. He believes
woman should move as much as man; and he regards her movement in such
numbers to the great West as full of hope (and husbands) for the sex.
Mrs. TODD has not as yet been irresistibly seized by the movement; but
if TIMOTHY knows himself, he longs for the day when the seizer may come.
Although TODD--who is the writer of this epistle--says it, who perhaps
shouldn't, lest the shaft of egotism be hurled mercilessly at him, he
does unhesitatingly say that to aid this movement he would make the
greatest of sacrifices. He is willing to sacrifice his wife and other
female relations upon the sacred altar of the movement, and contribute
liberally to the expense thereof. He is quite willing they should
vote--early and often, if need be; but he wishes to see the movement go
westward like the Star of Empire--westward _via_ cheerful Chicago. TODD
trusts PUNCHINELLO will espouse this movement; for if it does, it--the
movement, no less than PUNCHINELLO--will go straight onward and upward;
but not by the route known as the Spout.
Mucilage is a good thing. It is now extensively used in Church, State,
and Society. We use it largely at the Veneerfront Avenue Church, of
which Rev. Dr. ALEXANDER PLASTERWELL is pastor. Of course, Mr.
PUNCHINELLO, you know that distinguished church, and have no doubt often
listened to the distinguished Dr. PLASTERWELL. He is a kind man, has a
high forehead, a Roman (Burgundy) nose, and a sweet, soft head--I should
say heart. He has--great and good man--the largest faith in mucilage. He
often makes it a text, and he sticks to it, he does--does Dr.
PLASTERWELL. Nothing like mucilage, PUNCHINELLO. It is the hope of the
human race, and the salvation of woman. It is the Philosopher's Stone in
solution; the essence and link which connects and cements all that is
great, good, and lovely, in the past, present, and future. At least,
such is the humble opinion of
TIMOTHY TODD.
       *       *       *       *       *
HINTS TO CAR CONDUCTORS.
When standing in Printing House Square, your destination being Grand
Street Perry or Bleecker Street, if a stranger asks whether you are
going to Harlem, nod, as it is considered improper to answer in the
negative. If he finds out the mistake, you can plead deafness.
When called upon to stop, never attempt to comply. There are several
reasons why you should not. In the first place, if you did stop, it
would show that you have no will of your own, and since the passage of
the Fifteenth Amendment, _all_ men are equal in this country.
You may stop about two blocks from the place named, just to please
yourself and prove your independence; but take particular care to start
the car when the passenger is half off the steps. If there is a young
surgeon in the neighborhood, you can enter into an arrangement to break
arms and legs in this way with impunity, have the maimed "carried into
the surgery," and share the fees with the operator. Occasional cases of
manslaughter may take place; but don't mind that, as coroners' juries in
New-York will return verdicts of "death from natural causes." Besides
this, remember that you have a vote, and that both coroners and judges
are dependent upon the people. When a lame old gentleman hails you,
beckon him furiously to come on, but be sure, at the same time, to urge
the driver to greater speed.
It is no part of your business to have change, so never give any, but
drive on: people should provide for and look after their own business
and that is none of yours.
Always drive through the centre of a target company or funeral
procession, never minding whether you kill one or more, and then abuse
the captain or the undertaker for his stupidity.
By the adoption of these essential rules, and by adding a good deal of
incivility, you will soon reach the top of the wheel of your profession
and in due time have a testimonial presented to you by an admiring and
grateful public.
       *       *       *       *       *
Out in the Cold.
Commissioner Tweed proposes a new outside Bureau of the Department of
Public Works, for late-Commissioner MCLEAN. He is to be Superintendent
of Refrigerators.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.
ENGRAVED BY SPECIAL PERMISSION FOR PUNCHINELLO, FROM THE ORIGINAL
PAINTING, BY MILES STANDISH, IN THE COLLECTION OF METHUSELAH PILGRIM,
ESQ., OF PILGRIMSVILLE, MASS.]
       *       *       *       *       *
TO CAPTAIN HALL.
(IN ANTICIPATION OF HIS TRIP TO THE POLE.)
            HALL! HALL!
            D'ye hear our call?
          Or, do you fancy it to be
          A weather sign--merely the pre-
            Monition of a squall
              At sea!
                HALL!
          You pay no heed at all.
        Nevertheless, O hardy mariner!
      (A Snow-Bird brings this with our kindest love,)
        We're sorry you prefer
      Those frigid walks (ever so far above
        The 80th parallel, we guess!)
      To stocks, and tariffs, and domestic bliss;
            Yes, yes,
      Captain, we're sorry it has come to this!
        Why do you madly thirst
      For grog that's chopped up with a hatchet? say!
        And tell us of the first
      Strange thought which spurred you to go up that way!
        Was it the hope that on some icy coast
        (Frozen, yourself, almost!)
        You'd have the luck to meet poor FRANKLIN'S ghost?
        And has it seemed, sometimes,
      That drowning might be pleasanter up there
        Among the icebergs, native to those climes,
            Than where
        The surf breaks gently on some coral-reef,
      And sirens sweetly soothe one's slow despair?
        Say, was that your belief?
        And who is BENT?[*]
        Why was _he_ sent,
      With his Warm Currents wheeling round the Pole?
        A long, long race must his disciples run:
              No sun,
              No fun,
        No chance to toss a word to any one;
          And what a goal?
        As hopefully you munch
      The flinty biscuit, watching whale or seal,
        Or listening, undaunted, to the crunch
      Of ice-floes at the keel,
        Say, Sir Intrepid! shall you really think
      You pioneer the navies of the world?
        Not while the chink
      Of well-housed dollars sounds so pleasantly,
      And safer tracks map out the treacherous sea!
        If that's your dream, oh! let your sails be furled.
              But, no!
      It is not this! Your spirit, high and bold,
        Scorning all tamer joys, will have it so!
              No cold
        Can chill its ardor! Such a soul would sate
      Its deathless craving in some lofty flight,
        Some deed sublime, and read its shining fate
      By the Aurora's light!
        For fruitful fellowship, it seeks the wild,
      The frozen waste,
        Where the world's venturous heroes--reconciled
      To sunless, shuddering gloom--
        To joyless solitude--with ardor taste
      Their dread delights! and so at last find room,
      'Mid nodding icebergs, for their watery tomb!
        For this, we spare you,
      O dauntless HALL! Once having breathed that air
        So pure, so fresh, so rare!
      And caught the wildness of the Esquimaux,
        We declare you
      Unfit to live where beans and lettuce grow!
        Leave delving to the little pitiful mole,
        Great soul!
        And now, then, for the Pole!
[Footnote *: Captain BENT, of Cincinnati, originator of the new theory
of Polar Currents.]
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: FINANCIAL RELIEF
MR. BUMBLE BOUTWELL TO MRS. CORNEY FISH. _(See Oliver Twist.)_ "THE GREAT
PRINCIPLE OF FINANCIAL RELIEF IS TO GIVE THE BUSINESS MEN EXACTLY WHAT
THEY DON'T WANT: THEN THEY GET TIRED OF COMING."]
       *       *       *       *       *
CONDENSED CONGRESS.
MR. SUMNER said he was the friend of the oppressed. That, as was well
known, was his regular business. Unfortunately, the Fifteenth Amendment
had rendered the colored man incapable of being hereafter regarded as an
oppressed creature. He was sorry, but it could not be helped. He was
therefore forced to go down the chromatic scale of creation and find
another class of clients. He found them in cattle. HOMER had sung about
the ox-eyed Juno, and WALTER WHITMAN about bob veal. COWPER had remarked
that he would not number in his list of friends the man who needlessly
set foot upon a cow. He mentioned these things merely to show that
railway companies had no right to starve cattle. He proposed an
amendment to the Constitution, to provide that a dinner of at least
three courses should be given to cows daily. Mr. DRAKE was heartily in
favor of the proposition. He had got his feet in a web, so to speak, by
paddling in the political waters of Missouri, and some people had gone
so far as to call him "quack." He demanded redress.
Mr. WILSON didn't see the use of all this legislation to protect
animals. Animals had no votes, although he admitted a partial exception,
in that every bull, it had its ballot. But he had something practical.
Here was a jolly job, the Pacific Railway grant. There was a good deal
more in it than they had made out of any other GRANT. Mr. THURMAN'S
suggestion, that this land ought to be occupied by actual settlers, he
scorned. "Actual settlers" were of a great deal more use to him in
Massachusetts, where they could vote for him, than in the territories,
where that boon would not be extended to them. It was much better that
they should be occupied by imaginary settlers, who could pay and not
vote. Actual "settlings" were the dregs of humanity.
The Georgia bill came up, as it does every day with much more regularity
than luncheon. The Senate has succeeded in muddling it to that degree of
unintelligibility that nobody has the slightest notion what it provides.
It is, therefore, in a condition to give rise to infinite debate. After
several senators had said enough for a foundation for thirty columns
each in the _Globe,_ they let it go for the present. The present was the
one promised by Senator WILSON in return for the Pacific Railway grab
The House is given over to the tariff. A very indelicate discussion has
been had upon corsets. Mr. BROOKS was of opinion that the corset would
tariff it were subjected to any more strain in the way of duties. Mr.
MARSHALL remarked that the corset avoided a great deal of Waist. It was
whalebone of his bone, or something of that sort. It was one of the main
Stays of our social system.
Mr. SCHENCK made another speech. He ripped up the foreign corset in a
truculent manner. He said that American corsets were far superior, only
American women had not the sense to see it. The effect of taking off the
duty on corsets would be to take off the corsets.
Mr. BROOKS called the hooks and ayes on the corsets. Mr. SCHENCK opposed
the call. He had found a simple tape much preferable. He wished a
coffer-dam might be put upon the roaring BROOKS.
Somebody at this point brought up a contested election case; but Mr.
LOGAN objected to its being considered. What, he asked, was the use of
wasting time? There was money in the tariff. There was no money at all
in voting a Democrat out, and a Republican in. They could do that any
day in five minutes. His friend Mr. BUTLER had recently remarked, one
Democrat more or less made no difference. But Mr. BUTLER forgot that the
larger the majority, the larger the divisor for spoils, and therefore
the smaller the quotient and the "dividend." He did not know much about
arithmetic. He had never been at West Point; but he believed that a
million dollars, for instance, would go further and fare worse among two
hundred men than among three. If the House were not careful, there would
be a glut of Republicans in it, and the shares would be pitifully
meagre. As for him, he had a great mind, (derisive cheers)--he repeated,
that he had a great mind to vote for a Democrat next time.
In spite of Mr. LOGAN'S warning, the House voted in a couple or so of
Republicans, and then resumed the duty on wool.
Mr. Cox thought this wool had been pulled over the eyes of the house
often enough. It reminded him of an expedition, of which Mr. LOGAN had
never heard, in search of a "Golden Fleece."
Mr. JENCKES, and Mr. SCHENCK, and Mr. KELLEY called him to order in
behalf of their constituents, who were in the wool business, and said
that "wool" in one form or another had always been the staple of their
political career.
Mr. BUTLER said he had a little game worth two of that. He wanted to buy
San Domingo. In this there were plenty of commissions, and hundreds of
thousands of colored votes.
       *       *       *       *       *
FIFTEENTH AMENDMENT.
ALDERMANIC RECEPTION UP-TOWN.
      CAESAR, walk in! Ah POMPEY! how d'e do?
      This way, CLEM! Gentlemen, please walk right through!
      GEORGE, how's your mother? Fine day, PETE--fine day!
      Well, how are things down there at Oyster Bay?
      Ah AUNTIE! how's your rheumatiz, this spring?
      Well, Mr. JOHNSON, did you try that sling?
      Why, this is Uncle STEVE! How-do-you-do.
      Uncle? Sit down. What can I do for you?
      Well, Mr. PRINCE! You must be busy, now.
      Whitewashing is the best thing done, I vow!
      Why, hel-lo! REGIS! From the Cape so soon?
      When do you open, this year--first of June?
      Come, gentlemen--some wine? Now, don't refuse!
      What! temperate? teetotal? Well, that's news!
      And good news, too! Well, coffee, then. You see,
      My friends, the _sentiment's_ the thing with me.
      The real Mocha, AUNTIE! Simon pure!
      Raised by free Arabs. For I can't endure
      A single thing that's flavored with a Wrong!
      Yes, AUNTIE, you are right, I've "come out strong!"
      So have the Colored People, I may say!
      (One fact explains the other, up this way!)
      They've proved their strength! It's settled, sure as a gun,
      That every Colored Voter now counts One!
      Now, gentlemen, you'll be surprised to find
      So many people with your turn of mind!
      But, sure as tricks! remember what I say--
      You'll learn some things before Election Day!
      POMPEY--'twon't take much time, (and you can spare it!)
      Try this old fiddle, picked up in the garret!
      Good? It's your fiddle! AUNTIE, here's a pound
      Of that same genuine Mocha, ready ground!
      Say, Uncle STEVE, I've got a fish for you,
      Down at the market. Call again, PETE; do!
      I'll have a job for you and CAESAR soon:
      It's only waiting for a change of moon.
      CLEM, how'd you like a chance to wait on table?
      Or, would you rather drive, and run my stable?
      GEORGE, in the kitchen there's a pan of souse!
      Going? All gone? Now, BRIDGET, air the house!
       *       *       *       *       *
Historic Parallel.
THE JACK CADE movement came near destroying London. The Ar-Cade movement
threatens to destroy Broadway.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: A CHEAP LUXURY.
SNIFFLES LOVES THE SMELL OF ROASTED CHESTNUTS, AND ENJOYS IT FOR HOURS
EVERY DAY; BUT HE NEVER EATS ANY--WHICH ACCOUNTS FOR THE JOYOUS EXPRESSION
ON THE FACE OF THE VENDER.]
       *       *       *       *       *
A CHICAGO LAY.
      I saw her sweet lip quiver,
        As he started for the store.
      Because he hadn't kissed her
        "Several" times or more.
      She cried "This horrid business!"
        And then flew to her glass;
      "Oh! why his cold remissness?
        Have I grown plain, alas?"
      But no, that truthful article
        Revealed her charms intact,
      She hadn't lost one particle,
        But had improved, in fact.
      At nine the case was opened,
        At ten the case was o'er;
      The jury brought their virdict--
        She was his wife no more.
      That night the husband started,
        And--"_you_ bet"--he swore,
      To find his wife departed,
        And "_To Let_" on the door.
      Next day he moved and married.
        And, that his bride might stay,
      He kissed her every morning
        Before he went away.
       *       *       *       *       *
A correspondent writes that a new mania has sprung up among the ladies
of Edinburgh--a fancy for learning to cook. There is a much older mania
in some parts of that country--a fancy for something to cook.
       *       *       *       *       *
About a Foot.
A BOOT when it's on.
       *       *       *       *       *
IMPORTANT TO PUBLISHERS.
One of our corps of Philosophers (a trifle visionary, perhaps) has been
speculating as to certain possible (or, perhaps, impossible) results
flowing from the practice among publishers of ante-dating their monthly
issues. Thus, supposing that the world should be destroyed by fire (and
why not? it is bad enough) on the 15th of May, 1870, and a cover of,
say, _Putnam's_ for June, carried up by an air-current, should, after
floating about ever so long in space, finally descend on some friendly
planet--we will say, Venus. Here it would naturally get picked up by an
archaeologist, (who would be on the spot looking out for it,) and the
interesting relic would be promptly and reverently deposited among the
other Vestiges of Creation, in the Royal Cabinet. In the course of
years, some historian would probably have occasion to turn over these
curiosities, and would presently light on the scorched but still legible
waif. "Why," says he, in astonishment, "I thought the earth was burnt on
the 15th of May! To be sure, it was _in the night_, and nobody saw it
go, [think of that, conceited Worldling!] but it was missed by somebody
the day after. But here we have a document from the late unfortunate
planet dated the first of June!"
Of course, upon this the History of the Universe would have to be
rewritten, or that odd fortnight would play the mischief somewhere!
       *       *       *       *       *
A Boston Boy.
       *       *       *       *       *
"Curses Come Home to Roost."
They are putting the Fifth Avenue pavement in front of the City Hall.
       *       *       *       *       *
To Politicians.
Will the working of the Fifteenth Amendment oblige a candidate to show
his Color before election?
       *       *       *       *       *
We notice, with much agitation and a reasonable amount of grief, that
somebody in Philadelphia (possibly Miss ANNA DICKINSON) has invented a
machine for the laundry called The King Washer! A few years ago it would
have been The Queen Washer; but in these days the name seems to indicate
that to Man, unhappy Man, will speedily be committed the destinies of
the weekly washing. Oh! the rubbing, the rinsing, the wringing. But Mr.
PUNCHINELLO has already communicated to Mrs. PUNCHINELLO his sentiments
upon this subject. Under no circumstances will he get at the family
linen. He must make a stand somewhere, and he makes it here.
       *       *       *       *       *
Let them Bark.
Miss BARKALOW has been admitted to practice at the bar in St. Louis. We
have frequently before seen young ladies at a bar, where others
practiced more than they did; but we do not see why, if Miss BARKALOW
wishes to bark aloud, she should not be allowed to bark, aloud or
otherwise. Barking may be particularly good in a cross-examination; but
we presume that a lady attorney's bark will be always worse than her
       *       *       *       *       *
"She Stoops to Conquer."
The girl with the Grecian Bend.
       *       *       *       *       *
Is it allowable for a Temperance man to be Cordial to his friends?
       *       *       *       *       *
Weak as Water.
Our cynical friend A. QUARIUS writes us from Philadelphia, that
considering the manner in which the Sunday liquor law is enforced in
that city, he thinks his native place is still entitled--perhaps more
than ever entitled to be called the city of Rye-tangles. This is
       *       *       *       *       *
SPIRITUAL SUSCEPTIBILITY OF CATS.
DEAR PUNCHINELLO: Our Society has been very learnedly debating as to
whether Cats are susceptible of spiritual impressions; and, although the
burden of opinion inclines to the negative of the question, I am firmly
persuaded there is much to justify a contrary judgment.
As I slept the other night, neither dreaming nor holding psychological
intercourse of any description with outsiders, I was awakened suddenly
about the first hour of the morning by a noise. I am quite certain it
was a noise, and have therefore no hesitation in so recording it. The
new moon hung athwart the western sky, and a few fleecy clouds were
chasing each other like snow-drifts across the blue vault of the night.
I may likewise note the fact that the stars were doing what they usually
do, notwithstanding the difference of opinion that sometimes exists as
to what that is. It was the evening after "wash-day," and family linen,
in graceful curves and undulating outlines, everywhere met the eye as it
turned from contemplating the stars to contemplating the clothes-lines
in the gardens. But I wander. The noise? Ah! yes. Well, it was not like
the collision of two hard substances, but rather of the heavy "thud"
order of sound, like the descent of a solid into a soft substance; say,
for instance, of a flat-iron into a jar of unrisen buck-wheat batter. I
glanced along the ghostly battalions of family linen; along the fences
traversed by feline sentries; along the latticed arbors; but nothing to
indicate the origin of the alarm could be discovered, and as at that
moment a breeze stirred in the apartment, producing a chilling
sensation, I thought it prudent to jump back into bed.
Next morning, upon making my usual visit to note the progress of the
early bulbs in the flower-beds, I encountered at the further end of the
garden the remains of a cat--a portly and ancient grimalkin of the
sterner sex. Close at hand was a bottle lying face downward, and corked.
I raised it--first in my hands, and then to my lips. The cork fell out,
accidentally as it were, and, as a consequence, death. "Poor thing!" I
murmured; "poor--" and a portion of the contents glided carelessly down
my throat. I perceived that the liquid was "Old Rye." As I stooped down,
tears would have come to my eyes; but it was useless, seeing that the
breath had left the unfortunate's body. Nevertheless, I rested my hand a
moment upon his head, and then glided it in a semi-professional manner
along the line of dorsal elevation, until I came to a deep depression in
his backbone, which corresponded exactly with the convexity of the
bottle. Then I saw at once how it was; this missile, (in the heat of
passion, being mistaken for an empty one, probably,) had been hurled by
some treacherous hand upon the unsuspecting Tom, striking him midway
between the root of the tail and the base of the brain, causing instant
suspension of his vertebral communications, "Poor thing! You were the
victim of a Catastrophe. You were also the victim of the bottle. The
'Rye' was too heavy for you, and should have been drawn milder." This
said, I turned sadly away to find a burial spade, and it then occurred
to me that this little incident was kindly meant to confirm my view that
cats are susceptible, even to a fatal extent, of spiritual
impressions--especially when conveyed by spirits of "Old Rye."
       *       *       *       *       *
From the Tombs.
When a drunken man has been locked up for beating his wife, it is
reasonable to suppose that he must feel rather the worse for lick her.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: PERSONAL GOSSIP.
(From the Daily Press.)
"A SON OF ONE OF OUR WEALTHIEST RESIDENTS DISPLAYS GREAT TALENTS AS A
SCULPTOR. HE IS BUT NINE YEARS OLD."]
       *       *       *       *       *
A BIT OF NATURAL HISTORY.
Naturalists tell us that the _Aye-aye_ is a small animal of Madagascar,
with sharp teeth, long claws, and a tail; which eats whatever it can
grab, and says nothing day or night but _aye-aye_. Now, we find that,
AGASSIZ to the contrary notwithstanding, this strange and not very
useful animal is indigenous to the State of Pennsylvania. It especially
frequents Harrisburg; and may be seen and heard any day there, in the
Senate or House. Being an active member of that House, your
correspondent has been present during the passage of three hundred bills
within a week or two, in about one hundred and ten of which he had some
personal interest.
Lifting his eyes one day from his newspaper, when the Speaker took the
vote on an "Act to amend the Incorporation of the City of Philadelphia,"
which your correspondent happened to know included the presentation of a
three-story brownstone front to each of a committee of six members of
the House, he found there was not one member in his seat; but, in the
place of a few, there was a company of these remarkable _Aye-ayes_,
responding duly to the call for a vote; but never a _no_ among them. No,
Now, your correspondent holds the deliberate opinion that, in several
respects, these aforesaid small animals of Madagascar might be an
improvement upon the average Pennsylvania legislators. And, if your
correspondent had to do with getting up the other one hundred and ninety
bills, as he did the one hundred and ten, all right: Otherwise, _not_.
How does PUNCHINELLO regard it?
Yours, LEGISLATOR.
       *       *       *       *       *
An Augean Job.
PUNCHINELLO has telegraphed to Governor GEARY his approval of the
"Sewage Utilization" bill at Harrisburg, on one condition: that the
first piece of work be finished up by the members of the Pennsylvania
Legislature with their own hands; that work to be, to make up into
_decent_ manure, _deodorized_ and _disinfected_, all bills passed at the
late session of their House and Senate. Since, however, complete
deodorization is probably _impossible_, PUNCHINELLO advises also that
the said members be required to cart all their stuff out to the Bad
Lands of Nebraska, and remain there to make the best use of it; or else
make a contract with Captain HALL to ship it and them to the Arctic
regions at once.
       *       *       *       *       *
On the Finances.
Says Crispin, "Did not somebody say it was BOUTWELL in the Treasury now?
A great mistake. About well, to be sure! When the newspaper men have
111-1/2 of gold, and I haven't a round dollar! Where did they get it?
And then the legal tender question. I never asked but _one_ tender
question in all my life, and that was to SUSAN and she said, Yes. And
then we were legally married. Nobody ought to ask such questions _out
loud_; it's not _decent_. And _fine answering_ an't much better.
Financiering, is it? Ah! well. _Specious assumption_, too; but that
requires brass, and I want _gold_. Meantime, who's got a twenty-five
       *       *       *       *       *
Massachusetts Flats.
Massachusetts must abound in Flats. Its Legislature is annually agitated
from the sands of Cape Cod to the hills of Berkshire over the question.
It is said to be wisdom to set a rogue to catch a rogue. Is it equally
so to set a flat to catch one?
       *       *       *       *       *
NATIONAL TAXIDERMY.
[Illustration 'P']
PUNCHINELLO has for some time past carefully considered the subject of
our national tariff of imposts, (_that is to say, he happened to see, in
a Tribune, the other day, that lucifer matches were now to be stamped
separately, and not by the box, as heretofore_) and he has come to the
conclusion, after duly weighing in his mind all the arguments for and
against the present system of taxation, (_that is to say, he made up his
mind the minute he read the article_,) that what the present tariff
needs, is a more thorough application and a better classification; or,
what the technologists call Taxonomy, which term is suggested to him by
a work on the subject which he has been recently studying. (_That is to
say, he looked in the dictionary to find out what Taxidermy meant, and
seeing Taxonomy there, snapped it up for a sort of collateral pun_.) As
an illustration of what our impost legislators (or imposters) ought to
be, let us take the Taxidermist. He is one who takes from an animal
every thing but his skin and bones, and stuffs him up afterward with all
sorts of nonsense. Now, our National Taxidermists ought to take a lesson
from their original. Many of the good people of the United States have
much more left them than their skin and bones. Why is not all that
taken? The condition of the ordinary stuffed animal of the shops is
strikingly significant of what should be expected of loyal communities.
(_That is to say, communities which vote a certain ticket which need not
be named here_.) It is often said that there are things which flesh and
blood will not bear. Now, a thorough system of Taxidermy remedies all
this. A stuffed 'possum, for instance, having no flesh or blood, will
bear any thing. When the people of this country are thoroughly cleaned
out, they will be just as docile. Among the things which PUNCHINELLO
would recommend as fit subjects of taxation, is a man's expenses. They
have not been taxed yet. If he pays for his income, why not for his
outgoes? The immense sums that are annually expended in this country for
this, that, and the other thing ought certainly to yield a revenue to
the government. (_That is to say, there ought to be a new army of
collectors and assessors appointed. P. knows lots of good men out of
office_.) And then there's a man's time. Why not tax that? Nearly every
man spends a lot of time, and he ought to pay for it. As it would be our
tax, it could not be a very minute tax, although it is only the second
tax which we have suggested. (_That is to say--- something pun-ny_.) And
besides these things, there's energy. We often hear of a man's energies
being taxed; but, so far as the matter is apparent to the naked eye, it
is difficult to see whose energies are taxed for the good of the
government at the present day. This subject should certainly be
investigated. (_That is to say, a committee of Congressmen should be
appointed, with power to send for persons, papers, and extra
compensation_.) Politics, too. Every man has his politics, (_that is to
say, every man except Bennett_,) and they ought to be taxed, if for no
other reason than the great impetus the measure would give to the
erection of fences throughout the land. And letters, too. If every one
sent by the mail should yield one cent to the Treasury, how the currency
would be inflated in that locality! (_That is to say, in the locality to
which the collectors would abscond_.) But it is impossible, with the
limited time at his disposal, for PUNCHINELLO to enter into a full
examination and elucidation of this subject. (_That is to say, he can't
think of any more illustrations just now, and the printer wouldn't stand
any more, if he could_.) But it must be admitted that the great task of
opening up the country, of which we hear so much, will never be complete
until the Washington skinners and stuffers get us all into the prepared
specimen condition. (_That is to say, when the people are all willing
to_ "_dry up_.")
       *       *       *       *       *
JOHN CHINAMAN'S BILLING AND COOING.--Pigeon English.
       *       *       *       *       *
(EXCLUSIVELY FOR PUNCHINELLO.)
QUEEN ISABELLA has sent her compliments to Senor CASTELAR, as well as to
General PRIM, informing them that, on the whole, she thinks she will
_not_ return to the throne of Spain. It does not agree with her quiet
and refined tastes and habits to live so much in public. All she wants
now is a little _chateau en Espagne_. She proposes to send her son,
Prince of ASTURIAS, to Professor CASTELAR, to study modern history. Is
it not odd, by the way, that a country so long _Mad-rid-den_ as Spain,
should have now a governor with such a name as PRIM? But, what's in a
name? BOURBON, by any other name, would smell as sweet. Some, however,
prefer Old Rye. I prefer _water_ to both; _especially_ to BOURBON.
It's an old story that _two positives make a negative_. Paris news tells
us that a late will case has exemplified this. COMTE, you know, was a
_positive_ philosopher. He had a positive wife. She had a will of her
own. He wrote a will of his own. Consequently, it got into court. Mme.
COMTE it seems, who did not agree with the philosophy while the
philosopher lived, wanted his MSS. after his death. Positively, the
court did not see it in that light; and so the negative came out. It was
a case of no go, or _non-ego_, as HEGEL might have called it. Did you
ever read HEGEL? I didn't; and I advise you not to begin. It won't pay.
I am told that he divided all things into Egos, She goes, and Non-egos,
or No-goes. The latter particularly; So do I.
But to return to Spain; or rather to Paris. Don FRANCOIS D'ASSISSI has,
it appears, suddenly discovered that his wife is not Queen of Spain so
much as she was. Much less so. So, he has found her company rather
expensive than agreeable; and proposes to abdicate it. Not so _very_
much of an ass, is he? Bravo for Don FRANCOIS!
In London, _to-morrow_ will be made famous in literature by _the_ great
dinner in honor of the advent of PUNCHINELLO. Mr. PUNCH is talked of to
preside. An unprecedented rush for tickets has begun. More about it in
       *       *       *       *       *
We see extensively advertised the "Saxon Razor;" but have not yet
summoned up sufficient courage to try this article, which "no
gentleman's dressing-case should be without." We cannot dispossess our
minds of the apprehension of cutting ourselves, remembering that line
descriptive of the combat between FITZ-JAMES and RODERICK DHU, in which
it is said, that,
    "----thrice the Saxon blade drank blood."
       *       *       *       *       *
The vocal abilities of hens are admitted; but they rarely attempt the
Chro-matic scale.
       *       *       *       *       *
No man can now be a juror who knows any thing about the case which he is
to try. Thus a juryman was challenged in the MCFARLAND case merely
because he belonged to Dr. BELLOWS's church. It was held that he might
possibly have got Wind of the matter while listening to the Doctor's
       *       *       *       *       *
BOOK NOTICES.
AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. Boston: ROBERTS BROTHERS.
New-York: D. APPLETON & Co.
The author of "Little Women" seeks, and not without success, to draw
from her "Old-Fashioned Girl" a contrast and a moral. She presents to
our view two young ladies of opposite "styles." One is fresh and rural:
the other isn't. The difference between country and city bringing-up is
the point aimed at; and the difference is about as great as that between
the warbling of woodside birds and the jingle of one of OFFENBACH'S
tunes on a corner barrel-organ. The book is neatly set forth, with
illustrations by Messrs. ROBERTS, BROTHERS, of Boston.
RED AS A ROSE IS SHE. By the author of "Cometh up as a Flower," etc.
New-York: D. APPLETON & Co.
A readable book, notwithstanding that there are several naughty
characters in it, or perhaps _because_ there are. Probably it depicts
with truth the kind of society presented. If so, all the worse for
society. Shall we never again have healthful, virtuous novels of the old
school, such as "Tom Jones?" The book is published in tasteful form by
Messrs. D. APPLETON & Co.
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  |                    RED AS A ROSE IS SHE.                     |
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  |                 90, 92, and 94 Grand Street,                 |
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  |             Have now ready the Third Edition of              |
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  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: A SUCCESSFUL CATCH.
_John Bull._ "WELL, GENERAL, HOW DID YOU CATCH YOUR FISH?"
 _General Prim._ "WITH A SPANISH FLY."]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |        WALTHAM WATCHES. 3-4 PLATE. _16 and 20 Sizes._        |
  |                                                              |
  |  To the manufacture of these fine Watches the Company have   |
  |    devoted all the science and skill in the art at their     |
  |    command, and confidently claim that, for fineness and     |
  |      beauty, no less than for the greater excellence of      |
  |     mechanical and scientific correctness of design and      |
  |      execution, these watches are unsurpassed anywhere.      |
  |                                                              |
  |    In this country the manufacture of this fine grade of     |
  |       Watches is not even attempted except at Waltham.       |
  |                                                              |
  |              FOR SALE BY ALL LEADING JEWELLERS.              |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                 Bowling Green Savings-Bank,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                    33 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |           _Open Every Day from 10 A.M. to 3 P.M_.            |
  |                                                              |
  |             Deposits of any sum, from Ten Cents              |
  |          to Ten Thousand Dollars, will be received.          |
  |                                                              |
  |        Six Per Cent Interest, Free of Government Tax.        |
  |                                                              |
  |                   INTEREST ON NEW DEPOSITS                   |
  |                                                              |
  |            Commences on the first of every month.            |
  |                                                              |
  |                  HENRY SMITH, _President._                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                REEVES E. SELMES, _Secretary._                |
  |                                                              |
  |        WALTER ROCHE, EDWARD HOGAN, _Vice-Presidents._        |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
PUNCHINELLO:
TERMS TO CLUBS.
WE OFFER AS PREMIUMS FOR CLUBS
DANA BICKFORD'S PATENT FAMILY SPINNER,
The most complete and desirable machine ever yet introduced for spinning
BICKFORD'S CROCHET AND FANCY WORK MACHINES.
These beautiful little machines are very fascinating, as well as useful;
and every lady should have one, as they can make every conceivable kind
of crochet or fancy work upon them.
BICKFORD'S AUTOMATIC FAMILY KNITTER.
This is the most perfect and complete machine in the world. It knits
every thing.
AMERICAN BUTTONHOLE, OVERSEAMING, AND SEWING-MACHINE.
This great combination machine is the last and greatest improvement on
all former machines. No. 1, with finely finished Oiled Walnut Table and
Cover, complete, price, $75. No. 2, same machine without the buttonhole
parts, etc., price, $60.
WE WILL SEND THE
Family Spinner,                price, $8, for  4 subscribers and $16.
No.1 Crochet,                   "      8,  "   4      "       "   16.
 " 2    "                       "     15,  "   6      "       "   24.
 " 1 Automatic Knitter, 72 needles,   30,  "  12      "       "   48.
 " 2     "        "     84 needles,   33,  "  13      "       "   52.
No.3 Automatic Knitter, 100 needles,  37, for 15 subscribers and $60.
 " 4     "        "     2 cylinders,  33,  "  13      "       "   52.
                        1  72 needles 40.  "  16      "       "   64.
                        1 100 needles
No. 1 American Buttonhole and Overseaming Machine,
 price, $75, for 30 subscribers and $120.
No. 2 American Buttonhole and Overseaming Machine,
  without buttonhole parts, etc., price, $60, for 25 subscribers and $100.
Descriptive Circulars
Of all these machines will be sent upon application to this office, and
full instructions for working them will be sent to purchasers.
Parties getting up Clubs preferring cash to premiums, may deduct
seventy-five cents upon each full subscription sent for four subscribers
and upward, and after the first remittance for four subscribers may send
single names as they obtain them, deducting the commission.
Remittances should be made in Post-Office Orders, Bank Checks, or Drafts
on New-York City; or if these can not be obtained, then by Registered
Letters, which any post-master will furnish.
Charges on money sent by express must be prepaid, or the net amount only
will be credited.
Directions for shipping machines must be full and explicit, to prevent
error. In sending subscriptions give address, with Town, County, and
The postage on this paper will be twenty cents per year, payable
quarterly in advance, at the place where it is received. Subscribers in
the British Provinces will remit twenty cants in addition to
subscription.
All communications, remittances, etc., to be addressed to
P.O. Box 2783.
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY
No. 83 Nassau Street,
       *       *       *       *       *
S.W. GREEN, PRINTER, CORNER JACOB AND FRANKFORT STREETS.
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                           CONANT'S                           |
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  |                        PATENT BINDERS                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                             FOR                              |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO,"                        |
  |                                                              |
  | to preserve the paper for binding, will be sent postpaid, on |
  |                  receipt of One Dollar, by                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |               83 Nassau Street, New York City.               |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                        CARBOLIC SALVE                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Recommended by Physicians.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |     The best Salve in use for all disorders of the skin,     |
  |                 for Cuts, Burns, Wounds, &c.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                      USED IN HOSPITALS.                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                    SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                       PRICE 25 CENTS.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |               JOHN F. HENRY, Sole Proprietor,                |
  |                No. 8 College Place, New York.                |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  HARRISON BRADFORD & CO.'S                   |
  |                         STEEL PENS.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |     These Pens are of a finer quality, more durable, and     |
  | cheaper than any other Pen in the market. Special attention  |
  |  is called to the following grades, as being better suited   |
  |     for business purposes than any Pen manufactured. The     |
  |                                                              |
  |            "505," "22," and the "Anti-Corrosive,"            |
  |                                                              |
  |            we recommend for Bank and Office use.             |
  |                                                              |
  |                      D. APPLETON & CO.,                      |
  |                Sole Agents for United States.                |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
Vol. 1.   No. 22.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 27, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD,
By ORPHEUS C. KERR,
Continued in this Number.
[Sidenote: See 15th Page for Extra Premiums.]
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       $47,000 REWARD.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                        PROCLAMATION.                         |
  |                                                              |
  | The Murder of Mr. Benjamin Nathan.                           |
  |                                                              |
  | The widow having determined to increase the rewards          |
  | heretofore offered by me (in my proclamation of July 29),    |
  | and no result having yet been obtained, and suggestions      |
  | having been made that the rewards were not sufficiently      |
  | distributive or specific, the offers in the previous         |
  | proclamation are hereby superseded by the following:         |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $30,000 will be paid for the arrest and          |
  | conviction of the murderer of BENJAMIN NATHAN, who was       |
  | killed in his house, No. 12 West Twenty-third Street, New    |
  | York, on the morning of Friday, July 29.                     |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $1,000 will be paid for the identification and   |
  | recovery of each and every one of the three Diamond Shirt    |
  | Studs which were taken from the clothing of the deceased on  |
  | the night of the murder. Two of the diamonds weighed,        |
  | together, 1, 1/2, and 1/3, and 1/16 carats, and the other, a |
  | flat stone, showing nearly a surface of one carat, weighed   |
  | 3/4 and 1/32. All three were mounted in skeleton settings,   |
  | with spiral screws, but the color of the gold, setting of    |
  | the flat diamond was not so dark as the other two.           |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $1,500 will be paid for the identification and   |
  | recovery of one of the watches, being the Gold anchor        |
  | Hunting-case Stem-winding Watch, No. 6657, 19 lines, or      |
  | about two inches in diameter, made by Ed. Perregaux; or for  |
  | the Chain and Seals thereto attached. The Chain is very      |
  | massive, with square links, and carries a Pendant Chain with |
  | two seals, one of them having the monogram "B.N.," cut       |
  | thereon.                                                     |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $300 will be given for information leading to    |
  | the identification and recovery of an old-fashioned          |
  | open-faced Gold Watch, with gold dial, showing rays          |
  | diverging from the center, and with raised figures; believed |
  | to have been made by Tobias, and which was taken at the same |
  | time as the above articles.                                  |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $300 will be given for the recovery of a Gold    |
  | Medal of about the size of a silver dollar, and which bears  |
  | an inscription of presentation not precisely known, but      |
  | believed to be either "To Sampson Simpson, President of the  |
  | Jews' Hospital," or, "To Benjamin Nathan, President of the   |
  | Jews' Hospital."                                             |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $100 will be given for full and complete         |
  | detailed information descriptive of this medal, which may be |
  | useful in securing its recovery.                             |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $1,000 will be given for information leading to  |
  | the identification of the instrument used in committing the  |
  | murder, which is known as a "dog" or clamp, and is a piece   |
  | of wrought iron about sixteen inches long, turned up for     |
  | about an inch at each end, and sharp; such as is used by     |
  | ship-carpenters, or post-trimmers, ladder-makers,            |
  | pump-makers, sawyers, or by iron-moulders to clamp their     |
  | flasks.                                                      |
  |                                                              |
  | A REWARD of $800 will be given to the man who, on the        |
  | morning of the murder, was seen to ascend the steps and pick |
  | up a piece of paper lying there, and then walk away with it, |
  | if he will come forward and produce it.                      |
  |                                                              |
  | Any information bearing upon the case may be sent to the     |
  | Mayor, John Jourdan, Superintendent of Police City of New    |
  | York; or to James J. Kelso, Chief Detective Officer.         |
  |                                                              |
  | A. OAKEY HALL, MAYOR.                                        |
  |                                                              |
  | The foregoing rewards are offered by                         |
  | the request of,                                              |
  | and are guaranteed by me.                                    |
  |                                                              |
  | Signed, EMILY G. NATHAN,                                     |
  | Widow of B. NATHAN.                                          |
  |                                                              |
  | The following reward has also been offered by the New York   |
  | Stock Exchange:                                              |
  |                                                              |
  | $10,000--The New York Stock Exchange offers a reward of Ten  |
  | Thousand Dollars for the arrest and conviction of the        |
  | murderer or murderers of Benjamin Nathan, late a member of   |
  | said Exchange, who was killed on the night of July 28, 1870, |
  | at his house in Twenty-third street, New York City.          |
  |                                                              |
  | J.L. BROWNELL, Vice-Chairman,  Gov. Com.                     |
  | D.C. HAYS, Treasurer.                                        |
  | B.O. WHITE, Secretary.                                       |
  | MAYOR'S OFFICE, New York, August 5, 1870.                    |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       TO NEWS-DEALERS.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Punchinello's Monthly.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                 The Weekly Numbers for July,                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Bound in a Handsome Cover,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |              Is now ready. Price, Fifty Cents.               |
  |                                                              |
  |                          THE TRADE                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Supplied by the                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                    AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |           Who are now prepared to receive Orders.            |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       WEVILL & HAMMAR,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                       Wood Engravers,                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                        208 BROADWAY,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                  Bowling Green Savings-Bank                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                         33 BROADWAY,                         |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
  |                                                              |
  |            Open Every Day from 10 A.M. to 3 P.M.             |
  |                                                              |
  |             _Deposits of any sum, from Ten Cents             |
  |         to Ten Thousand Dollars, will be received._          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Six per Cent interest,                    |
  |                   Free of Government Tax.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                   INTEREST ON NEW DEPOSITS                   |
  |                                                              |
  |            Commences on the First of every Month.            |
  |                                                              |
  |                   HENRY SMITH, _President_                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                REEVES E. SELMES, _Secretary._                |
  |                                                              |
  |        WALTER ROCHE, EDWARD HOGAN, _Vice-Presidents_.        |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                         NEWS DEALERS                         |
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  |                         STEAMBOATS,                          |
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  |                            And at                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                       WATERING PLACES,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |               Will find the Monthly Numbers of               |
  |                                                              |
  |                        "PUNCHINELLO"                         |
  |                                                              |
  |      For April, May, June, and July, an attractive and       |
  |                        Saleable Work.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Single Copies Price 50 cts.                  |
  |                                                              |
  |        For trade price address American News Co., or         |
  |                                                              |
  |                 PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING CO.,                  |
  |                                                              |
  |                       83 Nassau Street                       |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       FORST & AVERELL                        |
  |                                                              |
  |             Steam, Lithograph, and Letter Press              |
  |                                                              |
  |                          PRINTERS,                           |
  |                                                              |
  |               EMBOSSERS, ENGRAVERS, AND LABEL                |
  |                        MANUFACTURERS.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |      Sketches and Estimates furnished upon application.      |
  |                                                              |
  |           23 Platt Street, and 20-22 Gold Street,            |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
  |                                                              |
  |                       [P.O. BOX 2845.]                       |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                           FOLEY'S                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                          GOLD PENS.                          |
  |                                                              |
  |                    THE BEST AND CHEAPEST.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                        256 BROADWAY.                         |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                    $2 to ALBANY and TROY.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |     The Day Line Steamboats C. Vibbard and Daniel Drew,      |
  |  commencing May 31, will leave Vestry st. Pier at 8.45, and  |
  | Thirty-fourth st at 9 a.m., landing at Yonkers, (Nyack, and  |
  |   Tarrytown by ferry-boat), Cozzens, West Point, Cornwall,   |
  |    Newburgh, Poughkeepsie, Rhinebeck, Bristol, Catskill,     |
  |  Hudson, and New-Baltimore. A special train of broad-gauge   |
  | cars in connection with the day boats will leave on arrival  |
  |   at Albany (commencing June 20) for Sharon Springs. Fare    |
  |   $4.25 from New York and for Cherry Valley. The Steamboat   |
  |     Seneca will transfer passengers from Albany to Troy.     |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      ESTABLISHED 1866.                       |
  |                                                              |
  |      Jas R. Nichols, M.D., Wm. J. Rolfe, A.M., Editors       |
  |                                                              |
  |                 Boston Journal of Chemistry.                 |
  |                                                              |
  |                  Devoted to the Science of                   |
  |                                                              |
  |                          HOME LIFE,                          |
  |                                                              |
  |             The Arts, Agriculture, and Medicine.             |
  |                                                              |
  |                       $1.00 Per Year.                        |
  |                                                              |
  |      _Journal and Punchinello (without Premium)_ $4.00.      |
  |                                                              |
  |                   SEND FOR SPECIMEN-COPY.                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                Address--JOURNAL OF CHEMISTRY,                |
  |                                                              |
  |                 150 CONGRESS STREET, BOSTON.                 |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                      HENRY L. STEPHENS,                      |
  |                                                              |
  |                           ARTIST,                            |
  |                                                              |
  |                    No. 160 FULTON STREET,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                          NEW YORK.                           |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
  |                                                              |
  |                       GEO. B. BOWLEND,                       |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Draughtsman & Designer                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    No. 160 Fulton Street,                    |
  |                                                              |
  |                    Room No. 11, NEW YORK.                    |
  |                                                              |
  +--------------------------------------------------------------+
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD.
AN ADAPTATION.
BY ORPHEUS C. KERR.
When the bell of St. Cow's began ringing for Ritualistic
morning-service, with a sound as of some incontinently rambling dun
spinster of the lacteal herd--now near at hand in cracked dissonance, as
the wind blows hither; now afar, in tinkling distance, as the wind blows
hence--MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON was several miles away from Bumsteadville
upon his walking-match, with head already bumped like a pineapple, and
face curiously swelled, from amateur practice with the Indian Club.
Being by that time cold enough for breakfast, and willing to try the
virtues of some soothing application to his right eye, which, from a
bruise just below it, was nearly closed, the badly banged young man
suspended his murderous calisthenics at the door of a rustic hotel, and
there entered to secure a wayside meal.
The American country "hotel," or half-way house, is, perhaps, one of the
most depressing fictions ever encountered by stage-passenger, or
pedestrian afield: and depends so exclusively upon the imagination for
any earthly distinction from the retired and neglected private hiding-place
of some decayed and morbid agricultural family, that only the
conventional swing sign-board before the door saves the cognizant mind
from a painfully dense confusion. Smelling about equally of eternal
wash-day, casual cow-shed, and passing feather-bed, it sustains a lank,
middle-aged, gristly man to come out at the same hour every day and
grunt unintelligibly at the stage-driver, an expressionless boy in a
bandless straw-hat and no shoes to stare blankly from the doorway at
the same old pole-horse he has mechanically thus inspected from infancy,
and one speckled hen of mature years to poise observingly on single leg
at the head of the shapeless black dog asleep at the sunny end of the
low wooden stoop. It is the one rural spot on earth where a call for
fresh eggs evokes remonstrative and chronic denial; where chickens for
dinner are sternly discredited as mere freaks of legendary romance, and
an order for a glass of new milk is incredulously answered by a
tumblerful of water which tastes of whitewash-brush. Whosoever sleeps
there of a night shall be crowded by walls which rub off into a faint
feather-bed of the flavor and consistency of geese used whole, and have
for his feverish breakfast in the morning a version of broiled ham as
racy of attic-salt as the rasher of BACON'S essays. And to him who pays
his bill there, ere he straggles weakly forth to repair his shattered
health by frenzied flight, shall be given in change such hoary ten-cent
shreds of former postal currency as he has not hitherto deemed credible,
sticking together in inextricable conglomeration by such fragments of
fish-scales as he never before believed could be gathered by handled
small-money from palms not sufficiently washed after piscatorial
It was in at a country hotel, then, that the young Southern pedestrian
turned for temporary rest and a meal, and pitiless was the
cross-examination instituted by the inevitable lank, middle-aged gristly
man, before he could reconcile it with his duty as a cautious public
character to reveal the treasures of the larder. Those bumps on the
head, that swollen eye, and nose, came--did they?--from swinging this
here club for exercise. Well, he wanted to know, now! People generally
used two of the clubs at once--did they?--but one was enough for a
beginner. Well, he _wanted_ to know, now! Could he supply a couple of
poached eggs and a cup of milk? No, young man; but a slice of corned
pork and a bowl of tea were within the resources of the establishment.
When at length upon the road again, the bruised youth resolved to follow
a cattle-track "across lots," for the greater space in which to exercise
with his Indian club as he walked. Like any other novice in the
practice, he could not divest his mind of the impression, that the
frightful thumps he continually received, in twirling the merciless
thing around and behind his devoted head, were due to some kind of
crowding influence from the boundaries on either side the way, and it
was to gain relief from such damaging contraction of area that he left
the highway for the wider wintry fields. Going onward in these latter at
an irregular pace; sometimes momentarily stunned into a rangy stagger by
a sounding blow on the cerebrum or the cerebellum; and, again, irritated
almost to a run by contusion of shoulder-blade or funny-bone; he finally
became aware that two men were following him through the lots, and that
with a closeness of attention indicating more than common interest. To
the perception of his keenly sensitive Southern nature they at once
became ribald Yankee vandals, hoping for unseemly amusement from the
detection of some awkwardness in the Indian-club-play of a defeated but
not conquered Southern Gentleman; and, in the haughty sectional pride of
his contemptuous soul, he indignantly determined to show not the least
consciousness of their disrespectful observation. Twirling the club
around and around his battered head with increasing velocity, he smiled
scornfully to himself, nor deigned a single backward glance at the one
of his two followers who approached more rapidly than the other. He
heard the hindermost say to the foremost, "Leave him alone, I tell you,
and he'll knock himself down in a minute," and, in a passionately
reckless effort of sheer bravado to catch the club from one hand with
the other while it yet circled swiftly over his skull, he accidentally
brought the ungovernable weapon into tremendous contact with the top of
his head, and dashed himself violently to the earth.
"Didn't I tell you he'd do it?" cried the hindermost of the two
strangers, coming up; while the other coolly seated himself upon the
prostrated victim. "These here Indian clubs always throw a man if he
ain't got muscle in his arms; and this here little Chivalry has got arms
like a couple of canes."
"Arise from me instantly, fellow. You're sitting upon my breast-pin,"
exclaimed MONTGOMERY to the person sitting upon him.
They suffered him to regain his feet, which he did with extreme hauteur,
and surveyed his bumped head and swollen countenance with undisguised
"How dare you treat a Southerner in this way?" continued the young man,
his head aching inexpressibly. "I thought the war was over long ago. If
money is your object, seek out a citizen of some other section than
mine; for the South is out of funds just now, owing to the military
outrages of Northern scorpions."
"We're constables, Mr. PENDRAGON," was the reply, "and it is our duty to
take you back to the main road, where a couple of your friends are
waiting for you."
Staring from one to the other in speechless wonder at what this fresh
outrage upon the down-trodden South could mean, MONTGOMERY allowed them
to replace his Indian club in his hand, and conduct him back to the
public road; where, to his increased bewilderment, he found Gospeler
SIMPSON and the Ritualistic organist.
"What is the matter, gentlemen?" he asked, in great agitation: "must I
take the oath of Loyalty; or am I required by Yankee philanthropy to
marry a negress?"
At the sound of his voice, Mr. BUMSTEAD left the shoulder of Mr.
SIMPSON, upon which he had been leaning with great weight, and, coming
forward in three long skips, deliberately wound his right hand in the
speaker's neck-tie.
"Where are those nephews--where's that umbrella?" demanded the organist,
with considerable ferocity.
"Nephews!--umbrella!" gasped the other.
"The EDWINS--bone handle," explained Mr. BUMSTEAD, lurching towards his
"Mr. MONTGOMERY," interposed the Gospeler, sadly, Mr. DROOD went out
with you last night, late, from his estimable uncle's lodgings, and has
not been seen since. Where is he?"
"He went back into the house again, sir, after I had walked him up and
down the road a few times."
"Well, then, where's that umbrella?" roared the organist, who seemed
quite beside himself with grief and excitement.
"Mr. BUMSTEAD, pray be more calm," implored the Reverend OCTAVIUS.
"Mr. MONTGOMERY, this agitated gentleman's nephew has been mysteriously
missing ever since he went out with you at midnight: also an alpaca
"Upon my honor, I know nothing of either," ejaculated the unhappy
Mr. BUMSTEAD, still holding him by the neck-tie, cast a fiery and
unsettled glance around at nothing in particular; then ground his teeth
audibly, and scowled.
"My boy's missing!" he said, hissingly.--"Y'understand?--he's
missing.--I must insist upon searching the prisoner."
In the presence of Gospeler and constables, and loftily regardless alike
of their startled wonder and the young man's protests, the maddened
uncle of the lost DROOD deliberately examined all the captive's pockets
in succession. In one of them was a penknife, which, after thoughtfully
trying it upon his pink nails, he abstractedly placed in his own pocket.
Searching next the overwhelmed Southerner's travelling-satchel, he found
in it an apple, which he first eyed with marked suspicion, and then bit
largely into, as though half expecting to find in it some traces of his
"I'll keep this suspicious fruit," he remarked, with a hollow laugh;
and, bearing unreservedly upon the nearer arm of the hapless MONTGOMERY,
and eating audibly as he surged onward, he started on the return march
for Bumsteadville.
Not a word more was spoken until, after a cool Christmas stroll of about
eight and a quarter miles, the whole party stood before Judge SWEENEY in
the house of the latter. There, when the story had been sorrowfully
repeated by the Gospeler, Mr. BUMSTEAD exhibited the core of the apple,
and tickled the magistrate almost into hysterics by whispering very
closely in his ear, that it was a core curiously similar to that of the
last apple eaten by his nephew; and, having been found in an apple from
the prisoner's satchel, might be useful in evidence. Judge SWEENEY
wished to know if Mr. PENDRAGON had any political relations, or could
influence any votes? and, upon being answered in the negative, eyed the
young man sternly, and said that appearances were decidedly against him.
He could not exactly commit him to jail without accusation, although the
apple-core and his political unimportance subjected him to grave
suspicion: but he should hold the Gospeler responsible for the youth's
appearance at any time when his presence should be required. Mr.
BUMSTEAD, whose eyes were becoming very glassy, then suggested that a
handbill should be at once printed and circulated, to the effect that
there had been Lost, or Stolen, two Black Alpaca Nephews, about 5 feet 8
inches high, with a bone handle, light eyes and hair, and whalebone
ribs; and that if the said EDWIN would return, with a brass ferule
slightly worn, the finder should receive earnest thanks, and be seen
safely to his home by J. BUMSTEAD. Mr. Gospeler SIMPSON and Judge
SWEENEY agreed that a handbill should be issued: but thought it might
confuse the public mind if the missing nephew and the lost umbrella were
not kept separate.
"Has either 'f you gen'l'men ever been 'n Uncle?" asked the Ritualistic
organist, with dark intensity.
They shook their heads.
"_Then,_" said Mr. BUMSTEAD, with great force,--"THEN, gen'l'men,
you-knownor-wahritis-to-lose-'n-umbrella!"
Before they could decide in their weaker minds what the immediate
connection was, he had left them, at a sharp slant, in great
intellectual disturbance, and was passing out through the entry-way with
both his hands against the wall.
Early next morning, while young Mr. PENDRAGON was locked in his room,
startled and wretched, the inconsolable uncle of EDWIN DROOD was
energetically ransacking every part of Bumsteadville for the missing
man. House after house he visited, like some unholy inspector: peering
up chimneys, prodding under carpets, and staying a long time in cellars
where there was cider. Not a bit of paper or cloth blew along the
turnpike but he eagerly picked it up, searched in it with the most
anxious care, and finally placed it in his hat. Going to the Pond, with
a borrowed hatchet, he cut a bole in the thick ice, lost the hatchet,
and, after bathing his head in the water, declared that his alpaca
nephew was not there. Finding an antique flask in one of his pockets, he
gradually removed all the liquid contents therefrom with a tubular
straw, but still could discern no traces of EDWIN DROOD. All the
live-long day he prosecuted his researches, to the great discomposure of
the populace: and, with whitewash all over the back of his coat, and
very dingy hands, had just seated himself at his own fireside in the
evening, when Mr. DIBBLE came in.
"This is a strange disappearance," said Mr. DIBBLE.
"And it was good as new," groaned the organist, with but one eye open.
"Almost new!--_what_ was?"
"Th'umbrella."
"Mr. BUMSTEAD," returned the old man, coldly, "I am not talking of an
umbrella, but of Mr. EDWIN."
"Yesh, I know," said the uncle. "Awright. I'm li'lle sleepy; tha'sall."
"I've just seen my ward, Mr. BUMSTEAD."
"'She puerwell, shir?"
"She is _not_ pretty well. Nor is Miss PENDRAGON."
"I'm vahr' sorry," said Mr. BUMSTEAD, just audibly.
"Miss PENDRAGON scorns the thought of any blame for her brother,"
continued Mr. DIBBLE, eyeing the fire.
"It had a bun-bone handle," muttered the other, dreamily. Then, with a
momentary brightening--"'scuse me, shir: whah'll y'take?"
"Nothing, sir!" was the sharp response. "I'm not at all thirsty. But
there is something more to tell you. At the last meeting of my ward and
your nephew--just before your dinner here,--they concluded to break
their engagement of marriage, for certain good reasons, and thenceforth
be only brother and sister to each other."
Starting forward in his chair, with partially opened eyes, the
white-washed and dingy Mr. BUMSTEAD managed to get off his hat, covering
himself with a bandanna handkerchief and innumerable old pieces of paper
and cloth, as he did so, from head to foot; made a feeble effort to
throw it at the aged lawyer; and then, chair and all, tumbled forward
with a crash to the rug, where he lay in a refreshing sleep.
(_To be Continued._)
       *       *       *       *       *
CHINCAPIN AT LONG BRANCH.
A QUAKER friend of mine once observed that he loved the Ocean for its
Broad Brim. So do I, but not for that alone. I am partial to it on
account of the somewhat extensive facilities it affords for Sea Bathing.
Learning to swim, by the way, was my principal Elementary study. I have
just returned from taking a plunge in company with many other
distinguished persons. How it cools one to rush into the "Boiling Surf."
How refreshing to dive Below the Billow. I don't think I could ever have
a Surfeit of the Surf, I am so fond of it. Oh! the Sea! the Sea! with
its darkly, deeply cerulean--but stop! I am getting out of my depth.
Would that I were a poet, that I--But I ain't, so what's the use?
As I sat on the verandah of the ------ Hotel the other morning, gazing
on the broad expanse of Ocean and wiping the perspiration which trickled
from my lofty brow, (the thermometer marked 90 degrees,) I could not
help recalling the beautifully appropriate lines of the celebrated bard:
    "When the sun's perpendicular rays
      Begin to illumine the Sea,
    The fishies exclaim in amaze
      'Confound it! how hot it will be!'"
What a pity that the Bathing here has a drawback. I refer, of course, to
the Under Tow, which has caused some Untoward accidents. Those who have
experienced it, say it is impossible to keep your Feet when caught by
the Under Tow. Presence of mind is indispensable in such a case, but,
unfortunately, timid swimmers are too apt to lose their Heads as well as
their feet. Some of the lady visitors are Beautiful Swimmers, and their
Divers Charms excite universal admiration. Many of these fair
Amphitrites are so constantly in or on the water that it would hardly be
a Fib to call them Amphibious. Their husbands and brothers are, I regret
to say, not so much On the Water, preferring something a trifle stronger
semi-occasionally, if not oftener.
You know what a popular amusement crabbing is here. I seldom indulge in
it myself, as I have bad luck, which makes me Crabbed.
Our "distinguished guests," as JENKINS would say, are very numerous, and
it is truly an edifying sight to see judges, legislators, eminent
politicians, and other "Heads of the People" bobbing about in the water
Some folks don't seem to care what they spend when they come here, and
no sooner arrive at the Branch than they Branch out into all sorts of
extravagance. There is some superb horseflesh here just now, and the
fastest nags may be seen doing their Level best on the Smooth Beach. The
Race Track, Grand Stand, &c., are all that the vivid fancy of a
PUNCHINELLO can paint them. The bathing costumes! who can do justice to
them and their lovely wearers? Some time ago, (as I am informed,) a lady
made her appearance on the beach as a Nereid. Did you Ne'er read of the
Nereids, Mr. PUNCHINELLO? If you have, you are aware that they were the
Sea Nymphs of the Ancients, in other words the Old Maids of the Sea, who
never got married, and frequently played Scaly tricks on Mariners. The
Nereid referred to was arrayed in pea green and spangles, with green
tresses, which is very well known to be the correct costume of a mermaid
of antiquity, copied from the latest Paris fashions. This Spritely lady
was, however, unprovided with a tail, which was Unmermaidenlike in the
You know how brilliant the Hops are, so I will Skip them. One thing,
however, is worth noting. At some of the Hotels they have a Spread on
the carpet before the dancing begins, as well as a supper afterwards.
The excellent music of the Hotel bands is Instrumental in drawing crowds
of listeners to the Ball rooms. Some Chinese Jugglers gave an
entertainment here the other evening, but I didn't go, not being in the
Juggler Vein. Yours Reverentially,
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: PRUSSIC ACID.
"FIFTY DOUSAND FENIANS ARMED MID REPEATERS FOR FRANCE! LET 'EM GO!
BEESMARK WILL MAKE DEM NOT COOM PACK TO REPEAT IN DIS GOONDERY NO MORE!"]
       *       *       *       *       *
THE POEMS OF THE CRADLE.
    Little JACK HORNER
    Sat in a corner.
      Eating a Christmas Pie:
    He put in his thumb
    And pulled out a plum,
      And said, "What a brave boy am I."
In Canto I, I have shown the varied emotions which seized the tender
soul of Old Mother HUBBARD'S Dog. Emotions so fierce in their sorrow,
that they left not a single wiggle in his tail: his hopes were crushed,
his expectations ruined. In Canto II I have pictured the musical
propensities of the genus _Cat_, the wandering vagaries of the moon-dane
cow, the purp's withering contempt thereat, and the frisky evolutions of
the dish which rolled off on its ear. In Canto III I have portrayed the
"tender passion" and its melancholy result on the hill-side--a fitting
illustration of the fact that the course of true love never did run
smooth, especially if there were big rocks to knock one's toes against.
And now, in Canto IV, I am about to portray childish innocence in the
pursuit of bliss.
All things are graded, with the trifling exception of many of our
streets. But who cares about this grade of bliss? I don't, and I am sure
the poet didn't when he sang the lines at the head of this chapter.
Bliss is graded. The old man in Wall street, with white hair and white
necktie, and smooth polished tongue, has his degree of bliss when he is
engaged in throwing stones at the Apes in the tree-top, that they may
return the throw with gold cocoa-nuts. The young lady has her degree of
bliss when her waist is entwined by "Dear CHAWLES," who soothes her
troubled spirit with the tender melody of "Red as a beet is
she,"--alluding to her would-be rival. The nice young man has his degree
of bliss when he chews a tooth-pick--poor goose! (not the nice young
man, but the fowl which gave the quill,)--and is given a smile by a
dark-eyed female in a passing stage.
And Infantdom has--But our poet beautifully illustrates this in the
stanzas we have quoted.
    "Little JACK HORNER,"
says he, with the easy grace of one perfectly familiar with the subject
he is to treat; neither frightened at its immensity, nor putting himself
in the way of a dilemma by stopping to examine details. Little JACK was
the poet's pet because he was the afflicted one of the household, and
poets know full well how to sympathize with affliction. Perhaps JACK sat
down to dinner next to cross-eyed SUSAN ANN, "by Brother BILL'S gal,"
and perhaps JACK'S nose was tickled by a little blue-bottle, and that he
sneezed right into her soup-plate; and then he was hurried from the
table for blowing a fly into SUSAN ANN'S soup! He would lose his dinner.
His napkin would miss its accustomed wash!
"Shall it be thus? No!" says the poet. "Dry your tears, little JACK, go
to the well-stocked pantry, my boy, and get something to eat. The jury
will not convict you of stealing, for their verdict will be that you did
the deed in self-defence." And he did--go to the closet, and--
    "Sat in the corner,
    Eating a Christmas Pie."
See the smiles as they wreathe themselves on his chubby countenance. How
little JACK looks at the pie! how he turns it round and round to find
the best spot whereon to begin the attack! How he smacks his lips, and
thinks how nice it would be if he _could_ wish to give SUSAN ANN a
taste! But he can't.
Suddenly an idea strikes JACK. He has heard Uncle TOM talk of a big war
between Frawnce and Proossia, and all about the soldiers and the cannon,
and the big noises. Little JACK will make war on the pie. He will be
Frawnce, the pie will be Proossia. He sets it squarely before him on the
floor; rolls up his sleeves, may be; his eyes sparkle with
determination; he finds the most vulnerable spot in the crust; he makes
one bold dive with his thumb, it goes down, down down, crushing
everything before it; it feels something; renewed vigor flows through
JACK'S veins, and gives him new strength for the attack; victory crowns
him; and, in the words of the poet,
    "He pulled out a plum,
    And said, 'What a brave boy am I.'"
--Now he is happy. He has realized his fondest hopes. The blue-bottle
has no tickle for him now. He was Frawnce and he has licked Proossia.
There is nothing left but the plate, and his teeth are not hard enough
       *       *       *       *       *
"Hooray for the Impurrur!"
The ardor with which our Milesian element embraces the cause of France
furnishes a puzzle for many thoughtful minds; and yet its solution is
simple. In planning a passage of the Rhine, LOUIS NAPOLEON proposes to
BRIDGET. That's all.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Roland for his Oliver.
OLIVER DYER, of the _Sun_, is the original "Dyer Necessity that
knows no law."
       *       *       *       *       *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
And now comes to light another divorce case in Chicago. Mrs. HUGG sues
Mr. HUGG for a decree _e vinculo matrimonii_. If there is anything in a
name, no one will gainsay the observation that if hugging has lost its
charm, Mrs. HUGG is the last person to make a fuss about it. She took
her HUGG with a full knowledge of the circumstances, and it is contrary
to public policy and good morals that her plea of "hugged out" should
enable her to obtain the remedy which she seeks.
In France they do not wait for the completion of the years of
adolescence to dub a scion of the royal family with the title of "man."
The Prince Imperial, prior to his departure for the wars, was presented
at Court as the "first gentleman" of France. For a youth of fourteen he
is said to have gone through the trying ceremonies with great credit
until directed by his mamma to dance with a venerable female of noble
blood, just as he was about to lend a beautiful American miss through
the mazes of a Schottische. The son of his father took one glance at the
ancient dame, and one at the lovely creature beside him, and then set up
a right royal blubber of disappointment.
"Remember, my son," said EUGENIE, "you are a man now, and men never
"Oh! mamma," sighed the afflicted Prince, "let me be a boy again, rather
than dance with _cette vieille_ yonder!"
Alas! for the ambition of monarchs, who put forward their beardless
progeny to do the deeds of men, and to suffer with men's fortitude, when
they are more fit to be puling in a nurse's arms, or unravelling silk
skeins for some maid of honor.
       *       *       *       *       *
THE WATERING PLACES.
Punchinello's Vacations.
It was hot when Mr. PUNCHINELLO started for Niagara. So hot that no
allusions to Fahrenheit would give an idea of the tremendous
preponderance of caloric in the atmosphere. The trip was full of
discomforts, and there was great danger, at one time, that the train
would arrive at Niagara with a load of desiccated bodies. Of course the
water all boiled away in the engine-tanks, causing endless stoppages;
and of course the hot sun, pouring directly upon the roof of the cars,
caused the boards thereof to curl up and twist about in such fantastic
fashion, that they afforded no protection whatever to the passengers,
who were obliged to resort to sunshades and umbrellas, or get under the
seats. Added to this were the facts that the ice-water in the coolers
scalded the mouth; the brass-work on the seats blistered the hands; and
the empty stoves, almost red-hot from their exposure to the sun,
superheated the cars to a degree that was maddening. Added to these was
the fact that the intense heat expanded the rails until they were
several miles longer than usual, and thus the passengers suffered the
tortures of the transit for an increased length of time.
When, at last, Mr. P. was conveyed, in a stifling hack, (the fare had
risen, under the unusual circumstances, about one hundred and ten
degrees,) to a stifling little room under the hot roof of an hotel
exposed to the sun on every side, and had taken an extempore Russian
bath while changing his linen, and had partaken of a hot dinner, he
might have been excused for saying that he would like to cool off a
Inquiring if there was any stream of water convenient, he was directed
to the river Niagara, which runs hard by the hotel.
Reaching the banks of the river, Mr. P. was very much pleased by the
prospect. There is a considerable depression in the bed of the stream at
one point, and the water runs over the rocks quite rapidly, carrying
with it such leaves, twigs, steamboats or other objects that may be
floating upon its surface.
Mr. P. immediately perceived the advantages of this condition of things
to a a gentleman suffering from the heat, and procuring a boat, he rowed
close to the foot of a cascade formed by the inclination in the bed of
the river, and throwing out his anchor, revelled in the luxury of the
cool spray and the refreshing sound of the rushing water.
[Illustration]
Does not this look cool?
When sufficiently refreshed, Mr. P. rowed to shore, feeling like another
man. With the greatest confidence in its merits, he recommends his plan
to those who may be suffering from the summer heat.
After breakfast the next morning, Mr. P. set out to see what he could
see. He did not engage the services of any hackman or professional
He had heard of their extortions, and determined to submit to nothing of
the kind. He intended relying entirely upon himself. He walked some
distance without meeting with any of the places of interest of which he
had heard so much.
Meeting at length with a respectable elderly gentleman, Mr. P. inquired
of him the way to the Cave of the Winds.
"The Cave of the Winds? Ah!" said this worthy person. "You turn to your
left here, sir--ah! and then you keep on for about--ah! half a mile, and
you will--ah! see a gate--ah! Behind that is a man and the cave--ah!"
Mr. P. thanked him and was proceeding on his way, when the worthy
citizen touched him on the arm, saying:
"Twenty-one dollars, if you please, sir."
"Twenty-one dev----developments!" cried Mr. P; "Why, what do you mean?"
"Information, sir; fifty cents a word; forty-two words; twenty-one
It must not be supposed that Mr. P. submitted tamely to this outrage,
but after a long dispute, it was agreed to refer the matter to the
arbitration of three of the principal citizens. They promptly decided
that the charge was just and must be paid, but, owing to Mr. P.'s
earnest protestations, they agreed to throw out the "ahs," as being of
doubtful value as information. The sum thus saved to Mr. P. exactly paid
for drinks for the party.
Mr. P. now very sensibly concluded that it was about time to leave, if
his editors, his printers, and the employes in his pun-factory were to
expect any pay that week, and so he set out for home in the evening,
taking a shortcut by the way of Montreal.
He thought that a day might be very profitably spent here, especially if
he could fall in with any of the French-Canadians, of whose
peculiarities he had heard so much. The study of human nature was always
Mr. P.'s particular forte.
On the morning of his arrival, Mr. P. met, in the dining-room of the
hotel, a gentleman who was unmistakably a Frenchman, and being in
Canada, was probably Canadian. As they were sitting together at the
table, Mr. P., having mentally rubbed up his knowledge of the French
language, addressed his companion thus:
"_Avez-vous le chapeau de mon frere?_"
The gentleman thus politely addressed, bowed, smiled, and after a little
hesitation answered:
"_Non, Monsieur; mais jai le fromage de votre soeur._"
"_Eh bien_" said Mr. P., as he scratched his head for a moment. "_Otez
vous vos souliers et vos bas?_"
The other answered promptly, "_Je n'ote ni les uns ni les autres._"
"_Votre pere,_" remarked Mr. P., "_a-t-il la chandelle de votre oncle?_"
His companion remained silent for a minute or two, and then he said:
"I forget the French of the answer to that, but I know the English of
it; it is 'no, sir, but he has the apples-of-the-ground-of-sugar of my
mother-in-law.'"
When Mr. P. discovered, after a little conversation in the vernacular,
that his companion was a New York dry-goods clerk, he gave up the study
of the French-Canadian character and went on with his breakfast.
When he went out into the streets to see the lions of the city he was
delighted to meet with some old friends. In company with them he visited
the Government House; the Cathedral; the Statue of NELSON; the VICTORIA
bridge; and everything else of interest in the place. But nothing was so
delightful to him as the faces of these old friends, from whom he had
been separated so long.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: When, at last, they left him, he returned sadly to New
       *       *       *       *       *
IDIOTIC ITEMS.
On Tuesday last one of the swans in Central Park laid a hen's egg.
A celebrated English professor of heraldry is now at Long Branch,
studying the crests of the waves.
Dr. LIVINGSTONE is no longer a white man. The large colored princess
whom he has been compelled to marry has beaten him black and blue.
Louis NAPOLEON'S first bulletin about the war was the bullet in the
pocket of NAP Junior.
An intelligent cordwainer of this city has invented a bathing shoe to
fit the under-toe at Long Branch.
The lock of the writing-desk made with his own hands by LOUIS NAPOLEON,
at Hoboken, has been presented to the Empress EUGENIE by a gentleman
residing at Union Hill, in exchange for a lock of her Majesty's hair.
Yesterday, while three eminent Wall street brokers--names, BROWN, JONES,
and ROBINSON--were engaged in watering stock, they fell in and were
drowned. Loss fully covered by insurance.
CARL FORMES is oddly reported to have lost his Bass voice through over
indulgence in lager-beer. He drank a barrel of beer a day, and his voice
has now become a barrel organ.
In France the _Marseillaise_ has become the national Him; while, in
Prussia, BISMARCK is decidedly the national Herr.
A French paper has an article respecting certain musical fishes found in
the Indian Seas, They ought to be engaged for PIKE'S Opera House.
The annual panther, weighing 8 ft., 9 inches, from snout to tip of tail,
and measuring 213 lbs., has just been killed in the Adirondacks by a
       *       *       *       *       *
POLITICAL CLAPTRAP.
The sympathy exhibited by the _Sun_ reporters and editors for the
unhappy victim of Ogre Tammany is particularly touching.
Association with the Wickedest Man in New York, the Honorable JOHN
ALLEN, _protege_ of the Reverend OLIVER DYER, has evidently demoralized
the pure beings who control the immaculate sheet known as the _Sun_,
whose putrescent light "shines for all."
These panders to the depraved taste of a depraved portion of the
community, may exult in the spectacle presented in the City of New York
on Sunday, the 7th inst., but is it not a sorrowful thing in a so-called
Christian land to see a murderer borne with triumph to his grave, while
pseudo philanthropists deck his bier with flowers, and deliberately
charge a great political party with having hunted the wretched man to
Was there no nobler game worth the killing by Tammany? Was there not a
"stag of Ten" to be found, to be struck, if party necessities required
it? Would OAKEY HALL and PETER B. SWEENY put such a slight upon these
bastard allies of the O'BRIENS and MORRISSEYS whose columns are open to
the highest bidder, and whose lips reek venom while their hands are ever
ready to strike a victim in the back, as to pass them by while they were
on the war-path?
But hold--perhaps we have a clue to this singular conduct of the Tammany
warriors. They may have foreseen how apt the sweet people are to confer
immortality upon those whose death becomes them better than their life,
and therefore wisely forebore to disturb those blissful with murderers
and felons which seem to bind the Satellites of the _Sun_ and the
denizens of the Tombs together.
       *       *       *       *       *
SUMMER ON THE CATSKILLS,
BY REGALIA REYNA.
    O thou Mount Katskill! whom I now survey
    In roseate brightness of the new-born day,
    To thee my thankfulness I would convey,
          For self and crowd;
    Who from the glare and hum of hot
          Financial lives,
    Have sought repose upon thy wondrous crest, and
          Brought our wives--
    I gaze upon thy placid brow, where storms do
          Reckless rage,
    Forgetful of the storms of life, and Mister
          BEACH's stage.
    I gaze upon thy beauteous vistas
          Far and wide;
    I see the day-break beautifully paint thy
          Rugged side:
    I see AURORA show the panorama
          Night did hide:
    I see the lazy Hudson grad-u-
          Ally glide,
    Reluctant to abandon thee, and seek
          The salt sea tide.
    I think almost excusingly of that tough
          Two dollar ride;
    And only for my wallet's sake, I longer
          Would abide.
    Nature has kindly gifted thee with meadow,
          Lake and dell,
    And for the Falls of Kauterskill I know no
          Parallel:
    Humanity has crowned thee with this festive
          Gay Hotel,
    Where Fame and Fashion eager wait to hear
          Thy dinner bell:
    O Mount! O view! thy beauties now I can no
          Longer tell,
    For, after breakfast, I must say--O Katskill!
          Fare thee well!
    And leave thee--in one of those abominable stages,
          "which I wish it"
              Was in H------eaven!
       *       *       *       *       *
Extraordinary Ledger-demain.
The Soldiers' Monument at Cambridge is the result of the combined
efforts of CYRUS and DARIUS COBB, whereas, SYLVANUS, alone and
unassisted, is able to raise, every week, a tall column on the surface
of the _N.Y. Ledger._
       *       *       *       *       *
Censor of the Press.
The unfortunate official who sought reliable information, the other day,
respecting the age and immense property possessions of PUNCHINELLO, on
comparing his notes subsequently, remarked to a friend that he felt as
if he had temporarily lost his Census.
       *       *       *       *       *
Appropriate.
DANA, of the _Sun_, is about to open an undertaker's establishment for
the arrangement of murderer's obsequies. Motto--"Pinking done here."
       *       *       *       *       *
The Wrong Mouth.
A LITTLE Fourth-of-Julyer in Pittsburgh, going along with his mouth
open, (after the manner of boys), caught a fire-cracker therein, just as
the cracker was going off. He had often had crackers in his mouth, but
preceding ones had proved nourishing and non-explosive; whereas, this
cracker was quite the reverse. As a consequence, the boy has lost his
voice, but (what is curious, certainly,) is otherwise all sound.
Were we certain that heaving a fire-cracker into an open mouth would
always produce such a result, we should certainly hire some one to shut
up the noisier of our public nuisances--such as G.F. TRAIN, and several
members of Congress. This could be easily done, as their mouths are
always open, and usually are very large ones. We invite proposals from
boys, relating to next season's operations.
       *       *       *       *       *
Theft Extraordinary.
A weekly journal gravely informs a correspondent that "the line, 'A
thing of beauty is a joy forever,' occurs in TUPPER's _Proverbial
Philosophy_."
Shades of the poets! More than fifty years ago, JOHN KEATS commenced a
poem called "Endymion," with that very line. To think that he should
have gone and borrowed it from TUPPER!
       *       *       *       *       *
Politician's Plant.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration:
THE LATEST MELODRAMATIC DODGE OF A PLAYED-OUT POLITICIAN.
PROMPTER DANA, OF THE "SUN," GIVES THE CUE TO A _REAL_ SKELETON.]
       *       *       *       *       *
Conversion of the "Sun."
It was said of Bishop COLENSO that he "undertook to convert a Zulu
Kaffir, but the Z. K. converted him."
Such a circumstance may be fallen upon without going so far as Africa to
seek for it. JOHN ALLEN, of Water Street, was, once upon a time, the
Zulu Kaffir of DANA of the _Sun_ and his fascinating Satellite, OLIVER
The ways of JOHN ALLEN were very wicked when these pious
missionaries threw themselves upon his trail, and tried to convert him.
Perhaps the reformatory effort was well meant; but, alas! for the
feebleness of all human arrangements--JOHN ALLEN remains the reprobate
he was, while he to his flock has brought DANA, the _Sun_ man, and DYER,
the Satellite man, converts to the Allenian theory that money made from
dirt is the only healthful stimulant to virtuous toil.
And so it was that DANA the devout, and DYER the saintly, went forth to
convert the Zulu Kaffir of Water Street, and the Z. F. converted them.
       *       *       *       *       *
Ready for Another Heat.
The horses of PHOEBUS.
       *       *       *       *       *
A Royal Game.
The ex-queen of Spain fears that ALFONSO will be "euchred." She remarked
to him recently, Play you're king.
       *       *       *       *       *
CONTEMPORARY SENTIMENTS,
On the Great War Question.
    "WILLIAM'S my man!" cries one enthusiast,--
      "He'll be in Paris, _sure_, within ten days!"
    "'Paris' your Granny!" cries one just as fast;
      "'Ere that, man! you'll see Berlin in a blaze!"
    "France has the finest soldiers ever seen!"
      Says one who knows; "they never can be beat!"
    One who knows also, says, "the French are green!
      Their only real strength is in their fleet!"
    "Oh, hang their fleet!" exclaims another man;
      "It's useless now,--it has no work to do!
    But let France use her navy all she can,
      You'll see if Prussia doesn't put her through!"
    "Prussia ain't able!" cries an eager one:
      "Let her drink all the lager in her shops,
    She'll find the little job is not yet done,
      For all there's such enormous strength in hops!"
    "And if there's any danger comes to France,"
      Remarks the seventh man, "_Ireland_ will arise!"
    "And if she does, old England will advance!"
      The eighth (an Englishman,) with pride replies.
    And so they have it hot, for half a day,--
      First A., then B., then C. and D. at once,
    And thus the precious moments roll away,
      And none can tell who is the greatest dunce.
       *       *       *       *       *
The Aldermen to their Dinner.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: THE OVATION OF MURDER.
_The Devil, (soliloquizing.)_ "NEW YORK'S THE PLACE FOR ME! THIS IS WHAT
I CALL _REAL_ ENJOYMENT--A MURDERER'S FUNERAL PROCESSION GRANDER FAR
THAN THAT OF ANY GREAT AND GOOD CITIZEN, AND THIS IN A CITY OF
SUNDAY-SCHOOLS AND CHURCHES!". _(The Devil's Walk: Sunday, August 7,
       *       *       *       *       *
HIRAM GREEN AT THE FEMALE CONVENTION.
The Cardiff Giant and other Fossils at Saratoga.
      "Duble, duble, heaps of truble,
      Wimmen's rites will bust the bubble."
      SHAKESPEAR. (WM.)
The wolves in sheeps clothin' convenshed agin for an annual rippin' up
of things, at Saratogy.
The undersined, in custody of the undersined's wife, who is a
Hicockalormn of the Skeensboro Sore-eye-sisses, was present at the
singin' of the above selection from the defunct bard.
Male and femail wimmen was there dressed emblamatical of their callin'.
      "Black folks and white
      With red hair and gray,
      Mingled for a fite
      In Sar-a-to-ga."        SHAKESPEAR & GREEN.
SOOZAN B. ANTHENY was scrumpshusly ragged out in broad-cloth.
A turkish towellin' vest-pattent lether butes and silk hat, completed
her _Toot in cymbals_.
ERNEST L. ROZE wore a nobby scotch cassimer soot. She carried a cane and
wore her hair parted in the middle.
Mrs. RUBE PHENTON--MARTHY WRITE--O'LIMPING BROWN--SARY FILLEO--Mrs.
DEXTER NOLTON--LILLY DEVERS BLAKE--SARY HALLEK--FEBEE CAREY, and other
prominent Fireside agitaters and Herthstun depopulaters, were becominly
araid, and did gustise to their tailors.
PHREDRICK DOUGLIS, a firey broonet from Rochester, looked bewitchin' in
a _more anteek_ silk dress.
A camels hair overskirt hung grasefully over his loins. Peepin' out from
beneath his robes, was a delicate little foot, encased in a flesh
cullered pair of No. 11 buckskin mocasins.
His hair was done up in a 2 bushel waterfall, and was frizzled all over,
_a lar Ethiope_.
EDWIN A. STUDWELL, of Brooklyn, looked stunnin' in a granny Dean walkin'
dress and red cotton umbreller.
His back hair was tempestously arranged.
A couple of bolony sassiges, in a hily chawed up state, hung pendent
from the aft of his gorgeous waterfall, and dangled to his heels, _a lar
cheapee John_,
When approached by that great captivater of susseptible hearts (?)
SOOZAN B. ANTHENY, ED blushed like a red-headed woodpecker, and hid his
modesty behind a $4.00 palm leaf fan.
STEVE GRISWOLD, DAN KETCHAM and a few other manikins, was dressed
accordin' to the prevailin' fashions of the feminin sects.
A good cleen shave would have completed their disgize, and folks
woulden't have had a suspicion but what they was what they was actin' to
I was shocked to hear one audacious retch remark:
"Them chaps look like a lot of hen-peckt broken furniture."
    "Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites
    And show the best of femail spites,
    So teach that horrid critter, man,
    We'll swaller him hul, when ere we can."      1ST WITCH.
SOOZAN B. was elected chairman.
On takin' her seat she said:
"My femail friends by birth, and my femail friends by brevet;"
"We have convenshed for the purpuss of having our rites redressed----"
A voice: "Haden't you better go home and redress yourselves first?"
The whole convention was onto their feet in a second, while the chairman
fell into her seet and regained her composure, by takin' a good helthy
pinch of scotch snuff.
Quiet bein' restored, a Mrs. GAGE riz to her feet, and, removin' a chew
of tobacker from her mouth, read the follerin' resolutions:
Whereas: 2 National Wimmen's Suffrage Circus are industrously plyin'
their vocation.
Whereas: A effort is afoot to jine 'em together under the same tent.
Now be it resolved: We don't perceeve it in them sunbeams. The New York
State Suffrage Circus is able to paddle her own stone bote. Bosting to
the contrary not-with-out-standin'-up.
Resolved finally: We is the original JACOBS, and if Bosting don't like
the cut of our Jib, let her lump it.
(Grate applaws.)
A strange lookin' woman, who wore a swaller tail cote, red the follerin
resolutions:
Whereas: Woman has a spear, it hain't to cook vittles--darn
stockin's--tend baby and try to make her husbin happy.
Whereas: Man is a brute--woman an angle. Man can vote--woman can't.
Resolved: That as long as man won't give us the ballit, that after Jan.,
1871, every mail brat that comes squawkin' into the world, be smothered
the minnit he is borned.
Resolved: That when the mail rase is extinguished, the superior critter,
woman, take peaceable possession of the ballit box.
These resolutions was vociferously cheered, Mrs. GREEN becomin' so
exsited that she whacked me over the head with her parasol in a most
ongentlemanly manner.
(N.B.--I would heer state that I'me a Resistanter agin femail suffrage.
Give woman the 16th Commendment and we can cry "peece" ontil our
wind-pipes are collored, but not a darned bit of peece will we git,
except occashunly a peece is nockt off of our snoot, for refusin' to get
up early Monday mornin's to do the washin'.)
At the above juncture of the proceedin's, the Cardiff Jiant, who is
spendin' the summer at this selebrated waterin' place, entered the room.
The old feller had heard of this grate Fossil Convenshun.
As the distinguished fraud entered the room, cheers filled the air.
Members in exstasy jumped up onto the benches--stood on their
heads--threw their false teeth all about the floor, and acted like a lot
of Rocky Mountain injuns, chock full of New England rum.
Silents was restored by tossin' a live man to the exsited Amazons, whom
they tore to peeces, partly satisfyin' their cravin' appetites.
Old GIPSUM then _oratoricised_ as viz.:
"Feller Fossils: This is indeed the most momentous event I've attended
since I left Onondagar.
"When COTTON MATHER came over in the Grate Eastern, he sent out a dove to
see if the Pilgrims, would allow her to pick any flowers off of Plymouth
"What was the result of that experiment?
"Why, the dove coulden't find any rest for the soul of her shoo; for
Plymouth Rocks were thicker than Cardiff Jiants. That base man, BARNUM,
had taken plaster casts of the old rock, and there wasen't a town along
the coast, but what had its 'original Plymouth Rock.'
"The dove, not bein' a good judge of genuine stuns, made her "Shoo fly"
back to the old ark, and told her tail. Therefore, I ask as a personal
favor, seein' that BARNUM sarved me same's he did old Plymouth Rock,
that when this august assemblage of Fossilized human bein's comes down
onto the mail portion of the U. States, old P.T. be turned over to us.
I'le make him think he's got straddle his wooly hoss, and an army of
mermades was after him with red hot pitchforks.
"Grant me this favor, and when the fite of the Amazons begins, you can
count on me to hold your bonnets."
Amid tremenjus applaus old Fort Dodger squatted.
Letters were then read from the Cohoes Mastodon--ARTEMAS WARD'S wax
figgers--the wooly hoss--a miselaneous lot of Egipshun Mummies, and
THEODOR TILTIN--regrettin' their inability to attend the Fossil
HORRIS GREELY was then anathemized, BEN BUTLER--Senator WILSON--and GEO.
FRANCIS TRAIN Ulogized.
Resolutions were offered that Congressman MORRISEY be pulverized, by
some talented femail startin' a opposition club house, employin' none
but Tigers of the gentle sects.
After a few more summer complaint speeches agin that Horrible!
Bloodthirsty! 2 legged Monkster, MAN!! the annual Hen convention of
Antideluvian Fossils tide up their bonnet strings--took their husbans
under their off arm--walked down to Congress Spring.
The witches who dipp up the mineral fluid danced about the cauldron,
while the President of the company spyin' the Femails approachin'
    "By the prickin' of my thumb
    Somethin' wicked this way comes."
The above, Friend PUNCHINELLO, was as seen by,
Ewers faithfully,
HIRAM GREEN,
_Lait Gustise of the Peece_.
       *       *       *       *       *
Birds of Passage.
The African ostrich is sometimes trained to carry passengers on his
back, but the player of "our national game" is often seen "going out on
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: A VERY NECESSARY PRECAUTION.]
       *       *       *       *       *
BLOCKS AND BLOCKHEADS.
Mr. Punchinello: As the acknowledged redresser of American wrongs and
the enemy of public nuisances, we beg your attention to a vice which
seems to be upon the increase, and which grows in strength with what it
feeds upon. As the vice in question appears to be upon the increase, and
to fascinate its victims by the allurements of the excitement, we
consider it worthy of PUNCHINELLO'S lance, or, in other words, of being
transfixed upon PUNCHINELLO'S quill.
We refer to the loafing which invariably takes place upon the occasion
of the relaying of the wooden pavement. I say wooden more particularly,
inasmuch as new fangled varieties of pavement, such as Concrete,
Nicholson, etc., although they have their day, cannot be said to compete
for a moment in public regard with the good old fashioned kind first
Of all the causes that arrest public attention, surely this laying of
wooden pavement is the most enduring and effectual.
People of every grade and degree make a dead halt as they approach this
centre of interest, and at once settle down for a prolonged inspection
of the works before them. It is true that everybody has seen the same
thing one hundred and fifty times, but this description of indulgence
appears to grow by what it feeds upon, and the fascinated victim watches
the operation of the workers with a gratification which knows no
abatement. The usual formula gone through upon these occasions is as
Citizen approaches the scene of interest, and sees crowds of spectators
upon each side; he glances at the workmen, and, after taking stock of
both them and the overseer, proceeds to read the opinion of his fellows
in their faces, after which he settles down in right earnest with his
hands in his pockets for a prolonged stare. This latter may continue for
periods varying from ten minutes to an hour and three quarters,
according to inclination or opportunity.
If the spectator is a man of business, it is just possible that he may
content himself with measuring the size of the blocks with his eye, and
then pass on, content to know that he, as one out of many taxpayers, is
getting the value of what they are called on to pay for. But with the
mass of the onlookers, the pouring of the hot pitch into the gravelled
interstices is watched with a satisfaction ever new, like that bestowed
in the pantomime upon the application by the clown of the red-hot poker.
There is also the pleasure of seeing others at hard work, and the
indulgence of everybody's belief (which is common to all present,) that
he or she could suggest an improvement upon the work proceeding, and the
manner of doing it. Then they look at each other once more and depart
Upon a moderate calculation, the amount of time devoted by human beings
to this amusing study, in the City of New York, amounts to 2,450,000
hours per annum.
       *       *       *       *       *
ENGLAND'S QUANDARY.
Conjecture and expectancy, O PUNCHINELLO! have been the order of the day
in this European turmoil, with regard to the position of what are called
neutral Powers. People have been looking at England with much curiosity
to see what she really does intend. With the facilities which our
_special wire_ affords, I am enabled to report a highly interesting
soliloquy delivered by the Rt. Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE, to his bed-post, at
his home in Spring Gardens, London, after a hot night's debate at St.
STEPHEN'S. Our reporter concealed himself in the key-hole and took
_verbatim_ notes. As in the case of the speeches delivered by the rival
monarchs to their armies, which you published a week in advance of the
speeches themselves, the following can be relied on:
"I'm tired of answering questions. Let me think awhile. Is war the only
alternative? They blame me for not talking out. Fools, they don't know
where they stand. At home and abroad, difficulty. Our workmen
emigrating; the Irish irreconcilable, (curse that word!) nothing
cheerful that side.
"France can rock _her_ irreconcilables to sleep to the war lullaby of
that man we have so trusted only to betray us; _our_ irreconcilables
only wait for war to side with our enemy. Prussia, grasping bull-dog as
she is, makes capital out of it, and calls us to her side, while our
stupid people burn with a Prussian fever, which may turn to a plague
"Is the Prussian whom we have helped to humble to be our only ally? Then
must we write ourselves down asses in Constantinople.
"If we had some other head besides weather-cock expediency. France has
an Emperor, Prussia a King to lead them; we have a Queen who takes walks
in the Isle of Wight; and her son--bah! a _roue_ about town. Their
marriage alliances are drag-chains, not bonds of love. Denmark does not
forget our treachery in '65. Holland is afraid of France. We are safe
from America yet. They are too much afraid of the German vote, thank
Heaven, to side with France, but "Alabama" is her watchword, and she
only waits to strangle us. LAFAYETTE and the Hessians are only memories,
they have no votes. Ah! it was a mistake to sympathize with the South.
"Our statesmen--Heaven save the mark!--are our worst enemies. D'ISRAELI,
the Jew, doubles our difficulty by showing our weakness. He would play
the part of PITT without his brains or his chances. Then we led, now we
are dragged at the tail. We may sign treaties, but we cannot write them.
BRIGHT would be friendly with both; GRANVILLE with neither, and thus
each is offended. It is ridiculous, and the only course left is to
bluster about Belgium.
"It must be the late dinner. There are all sorts of threatening shadows
around, and but one light; that is a war flame. Let me sleep. To-morrow
the gaping thousands will ask a sign. It may come, but it shall be
hoisted on the Rhine, and, helpless tide waiters, we cannot tell from
which side it shall come. Ah! 'Uneasy sits the man on the ministerial
bench,' as SHAKESPEARE would say to-day, for the crown that he spoke of
is an ornament in the tower."
       *       *       *       *       *
Polish soldiers should choose the needle gun. The needle is always
true to the Pole.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: A CAPITAL HINT FOR OUR STATIONARY STREET MUSICIANS, IF
THEY WANT TO MAKE MONEY. ]
       *       *       *       *       *
THE LEAVEN OF LEAVENWORTH.
The great West has long been famous for the loose, untrammelled freedom
with which its inhabitants treat everything and everybody. Breadth, no
less than length, is a striking feature of Western settlements, and that
this element is conspicuous in the journalism of those singular abodes,
no less than in the social life of their inhabitants, generally, is
evidenced in the following advertisement cut from "_The Times_"--a paper
published at Leavenworth, Kansas:
"NOTICE TO DRIVERS OF FAST STOCK.--Hold your horses and do not drive so
fast. All gay and festive cusses caught driving faster than ordinary
gait in the city, will be brought before Judge Vaughan, for instance--the
fine is $20.
H. A. ROBERTSON, City Marshal."
The City Marshal of Leavenworth is clearly a pot-companion of the first
(whiskey and) water. He declines to address his fellow-citizens in the
commonplace terms usually recognised in more prosaic communities. To
adopt his own style of phraseology, ROBERTSON is clearly a "gay and
festive cuss." He is a specimen brick from Kansas, and doubtless always
carries one in his hat. The expression "ordinary gait," as applied to
driving in Kansas, where everybody owns "fast stock," is rather
equivocal in these quieter latitudes to be sure, but we may guess that,
at Leavenworth, a man who rides or drives at a pace of twenty miles an
hour, is liable, "for instance," to a fine of $20, or just one dollar
per mile. Kansas maybe a very nice place to live in, for some people,
but we would hardly recommend Mr. ROBERT BONNER to emigrate thither, and
so risk the probability of being advertised as a "gay and festive cuss."
       *       *       *       *       *
Of all public performers, there are none who "draw" better than the
gymnasts who risk their necks by attempting hazardous feats. The fool
who attaches himself by the heels to the car of an ascending balloon is
sure to have thousands of feeble-minded females waving handkerchiefs at
him. BLONDIN, the great French tomfool, brought more people to Niagara
Falls to see him, possibly, add a new Fall to the prospect, than ever
the Falls themselves did. And when another donkey announces that he is
going to stand upon his head on the point of a church spire, that church
is sure to be thronged--outside. These performances, and all of their
sort, should be made punishable, and will probably be so when a hundred
or two performers shall have been killed, in addition to those who have
already suffered.
Not nearly so exciting as performances of the kind referred to, though,
perhaps, quite as rash, are the ocean voyages occasionally essayed by
tiny, toy ships. One of these--the _Red, White and Blue_--is announced
as about to start upon a "voyage round the world." We wish her our best
wishes, and hope she may get round in the roundest way and time. One of
her first stopping places, though, as we see, is Martha's Vineyard. Our
advice to the skipper of the toy ship, is to go no further than that
delightful haven of rest. MARTHA. will cherish her as a chimney
ornament, or give her to her kids to play with--and nobody will be hurt.
       *       *       *       *       *
Two Renderings.
_Finis coronat opus:_--The end crowns the work.
_Finis coroner opus:_--There is plenty of work for the Coroner, but
the "end" does not always appear to be gained.
All of which is respectfully submitted to the investigators of murder
in this city.
       *       *       *       *       *
The Modern Monks of La Trappe.
The Coroner, the Assistant District-Attorney, and certain other
officials who have been trying the "trap" game on the witnesses examined
in the NATHAN murder case.
       *       *       *       *       *
Results of Silver Stock.
1. The dream is ore.
2. Never mined.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: PUNCHINELLO CORRESPONDENCE. ]
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
_Englishman, London._--You have lost your wager. Ohio is not the capital
_Stranger, New York City._--When you get lost in our streets and do not
know where you are, it is a good plan to seek information from a
policeman. If he does not know where you are, come directly to the
office of PUNCHINELLO.
_Antiquary._--"The Last of the Barons" was a term applied to an
implement used by the ancient shoemakers. The pedal members of the old
English barons were of a peculiar aristocratic conformation, and lasts
were made expressly for them. This is a curious fact not generally
_Ploughboy_ finds the following remark in Mr. GREELEY'S thirtieth What,
and asks explanation.
"So with regard to Carrots. I have never achieved success in growing
these nor Beets."
We infer that the meaning is, With regard to carrots, sow them. "These
nor Beets" are probably a new variety. They may have come from Norfolk,
but more "presumably" they were found in Alaska.
_Metaphysician, Cloudland._--Your article on the "Psychical Basis of
Objective Existence" is excellent. Look out for it in the "Juvenile
Department" of our Christmas number.
_Grammarian._--The expression "We ain't got none" is manifestly
incorrect. It has two negatives. "We ain't got any" is by far more
_Wager_ says that A. made a bet with B. that he could cut a dime in two
at one stroke of his pen-knife, C. to hold the stakes. A. took a
ten-cent "scrip" and chopped it in two with his blade. Meantime C.
walked away with the stake money. Who won? _Answer._--The bet is off. C.
is also off, but no better, and neither A. or B. is any better off.
       *       *       *       *       *
[Illustration: NOTES ON THE FERRY.
_Gushington, (with the pipe.)_ "SHE SMILED ON ONE OF US, I'LL SWEAR."
_Spindle_. "PERHAPS; BUT WHAT'S A SMILE? A POSITIVE NOD FOR ME, OR
       *       *       *       *       *
AERATED VERBIAGE.
An Every-day Romance.
In a room in a palatial tenement house in Avenue D, stood GILBERT
FERNANDE FROU FROU SNOGGS. G.F.F.F.S. was rampant.
"Why?" you say.
Gentle reader, hurry me not. Let the tale wag on. She was talking to her
"Now," said G.F.F.F.S., "I prognosticated that my maternal relative
would become oblivions of my reiterated solicitations to perambulate the
Avenue, and make the acquisition of four yards of cerulean hued ribbon,"
and she stamped her tiny number eights on the floor.
You will notice that, even in her anger, she did not forget her English.
"You can purchase it on the morrow," replied her mamma.
"I will not remain acquiescent. I will promenade upon my profluence to
Sixth Avenue, and purchase the ceruleous ribbon immediately," said
G.F.F.F.S., putting on her waterproof and sun-bonnet.
Her mother pointed to the paternal turnip, which hung over the mantel,
and showed her that old Time was "doing stunts" at 10-1/2.
But G.F.F.F.S. was obstinate. She put on her chignon, her curls, her
breast elevator, her bustle, her high-heeled shoes, a little rouge, a
little whiting and a bit of court-plaster, and sallied forth, down the
dumb-waiter to the cellar, and thence, through the ash-hole, to the
The deed was done!!! The purchase was made find G.F.F.F.S. walked
towards her palatial paternal mansion. She felt slightly timid, for, as
she looked at the heavens, she saw that ARCTURUS, who had been playing
tag with CASTOR and POLLUX all the evening, had reached hunk, the Great
Bear. From the astronomical knowledge which she had acquired at the
Vavasour Female Academy, she knew that the paternal turnip now pointed
to the witching hour of 11-1/2.
Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a party of bandits, (she
thought she was in Greece, but she was only in the 19th Ward.)
They seized her.
"Not a word," said the leader. "Your money or your life."
Now G.F.F.F.S. had lots of life and very little money, so she could
hardly determine whether to give up some of her life or all of her
"Illustrious banditti," said she, "the auriferous contents of my
reticulated depository are notable for minuteness. Be conservators of my
pullulating existence."
"I say, TOM," said the leader, "what's her little game?"
"It sounds like Irish," said TOM.
"Hand over your stamps," said the leader.
G.F.F.F.S. slowly drew out her net purse, when suddenly the robbers
fled. G.F.F.F.S. felt that her hero had come, and, like all the
ARAMINTAS in the novels, she fainted and was caught in the arms of--
CHAPTER III.
The author tried to persuade the editor to allow him to write "to be
continued" after the last thrilling chapter, but the editor was
inexorable, hence this chapter, "in the arms of"--a little red-headed
G.F.F.F.S. smiled gently, but, as soon as she had opened her eyes, and
had cast them on the red head, freckled face, pug-nose, and little eyes
of MIKE MCFLYNN, she sprang to her feet. It was better than forty
gallons of hartshorn. She had wasted a faint.
"_Perdidi animi deliquium_," said she.
"Mother of MOSES, but you was heavy!" said MCFLYNN.
But she did not wait, and a pair of number eight shoes might have been
seen by an inquisitive reporter, cutting around the corners and stamping
up seven flights of stairs.
When the paternal turnip solemnly points to 10-1/2, G.F.F.F.S. puts her
number eights on the mantel, looks reflectively at a sore-eyed kitten,
and falls into polysyllables.
       *       *       *       *       *
HOMODEIFICATION.
Late advices from China convey the intelligence that the
American-Chinese General WARD, who died in the service of the Celestial
empire, has been postmortuarily brevetted to the rank of a "major god,"
and is now regularly worshipped as such by JOHN PIGTAIL.
Possibly the antithesis to this may turn up on the cards, here. In the
course of events the bronze idol to which our PHILLIPSES and SUMNERS
used to bend the knee, has been prostrated from his pedestal by the
Fifteenth Amendment. Coolie labor, with its possible abuses, may engage
the attention of the philanthropists, next, and we may yet behold JOHN
PIGTAIL on a pedestal, in the character of an American "major god."
       *       *       *       *       *
"LUCUS A NON," ETC.
In the culinary department of a newspaper we find a recipe for making
"bird's nest pudding," which would surely make the pigtail of a JOHN
Chinaman stick straight up on end. The component parts of the pudding
are apples, sugar, milk, five eggs, and vanilla. Perhaps the inventor of
the pudding once found a bird's nest with five eggs in it, and has thus
essayed to immortalize the interesting fact.
       *       *       *       *       *
Bullet Proof.
The fact of the young Prince Imperial having picked up a bullet on the
field of Saarbruck is significant It proves that, like a true BONAPARTE,
he is prompt to take the Lead.
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       *       *       *       *       *
GEO. W. WHEAT & CO, PRINTERS, No. 8 SPRUCE STREET.
THE DIVINE COMEDY
OF DANTE ALIGHIERI
TRANSLATED BY
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
CANTICLE I: INFERNO
The base text for this edition has been provided by Digital Dante, a
project sponsored by Columbia University's Institute for Learning
Technologies.  Specific thanks goes to Jennifer Hogan (Project
Editor/Director), Tanya Larkin (Assistant to Editor), Robert W. Cole
(Proofreader/Assistant Editor), and Jennifer Cook (Proofreader).
The Digital Dante Project is a digital 'study space' for Dante studies and
scholarship.  The project is multi-faceted and fluid by nature of the Web.
Digital Dante attempts to organize the information most significant for
students first engaging with Dante and scholars researching Dante.  The
digital of Digital Dante incurs a new challenge to the student, the
scholar, and teacher, perusing the Web: to become proficient in the new
tools, e.g., Search, the Discussion Group, well enough to look beyond the
technology and delve into the content.  For more information and access to
the project, please visit its web site at:
http://www.ilt.columbia.edu/projects/dante/
For this Project Gutenberg edition the e-text was rechecked.  The editor
greatly thanks Dian McCarthy for her assistance in proofreading the
Paradiso.  Also deserving praise are Herbert Fann for programming the text
editor "Desktop Tools/Edit" and the late August Dvorak for designing his
keyboard layout.  Please refer to Project Gutenberg's e-text listings for
other editions or translations of 'The Divine Comedy.'  For this three part
edition of 'The Divine Comedy' please refer to the end of the Paradiso for
supplemental materials.
Dennis McCarthy, July 1997
imprimatur@juno.com
     I. The Dark Forest.  The Hill of Difficulty.  The Panther,
        the Lion, and the Wolf.  Virgil.
    II. The Descent.  Dante's Protest and Virgil's Appeal.
        The Intercession of the Three Ladies Benedight.
   III. The Gate of Hell.  The Inefficient or Indifferent.
        Pope Celestine V.  The Shores of Acheron.  Charon.
        The Earthquake and the Swoon.
    IV. The First Circle, Limbo: Virtuous Pagans and the Unbaptized.
        The Four Poets, Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan.  The Noble
        Castle of Philosophy.
     V. The Second Circle: The Wanton.  Minos.  The Infernal Hurricane.
        Francesca da Rimini.
    VI. The Third Circle: The Gluttonous.  Cerberus.  The Eternal Rain.
        Ciacco.  Florence.
   VII. The Fourth Circle: The Avaricious and the Prodigal.
        Plutus.  Fortune and her Wheel.  The Fifth Circle:
        The Irascible and the Sullen.  Styx.
  VIII. Phlegyas.  Philippo Argenti.  The Gate of the City of Dis.
    IX. The Furies and Medusa.  The Angel.  The City of Dis.
        The Sixth Circle: Heresiarchs.
     X. Farinata and Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti.  Discourse on the
        Knowledge of the Damned.
    XI. The Broken Rocks.  Pope Anastasius.  General Description of
        the Inferno and its Divisions.
   XII. The Minotaur.  The Seventh Circle: The Violent.
        The River Phlegethon.  The Violent against their Neighbours.
        The Centaurs.  Tyrants.
  XIII. The Wood of Thorns.  The Harpies.  The Violent
        against themselves.  Suicides.  Pier della Vigna.
        Lano and Jacopo da Sant' Andrea.
   XIV. The Sand Waste and the Rain of Fire.  The Violent against God.
        Capaneus.  The Statue of Time, and the Four Infernal Rivers.
    XV. The Violent against Nature.  Brunetto Latini.
   XVI. Guidoguerra, Aldobrandi, and Rusticucci.  Cataract of
        the River of Blood.
  XVII. Geryon.  The Violent against Art.  Usurers.  Descent into
        the Abyss of Malebolge.
 XVIII. The Eighth Circle, Malebolge: The Fraudulent and
        the Malicious.  The First Bolgia: Seducers and Panders.
        Venedico Caccianimico.  Jason.  The Second Bolgia:
        Flatterers.  Allessio Interminelli.  Thais.
   XIX. The Third Bolgia: Simoniacs.  Pope Nicholas III.
        Dante's Reproof of corrupt Prelates.
    XX. The Fourth Bolgia: Soothsayers.  Amphiaraus, Tiresias, Aruns,
        Manto, Eryphylus, Michael Scott, Guido Bonatti, and Asdente.
        Virgil reproaches Dante's Pity.  Mantua's Foundation.
   XXI. The Fifth Bolgia: Peculators.  The Elder of Santa Zita.
        Malacoda and other Devils.
  XXII. Ciampolo, Friar Gomita, and Michael Zanche.
        The Malabranche quarrel.
 XXIII. Escape from the Malabranche.  The Sixth Bolgia: Hypocrites.
        Catalano and Loderingo.  Caiaphas.
  XXIV. The Seventh Bolgia: Thieves.  Vanni Fucci.  Serpents.
   XXV. Vanni Fucci's Punishment.  Agnello Brunelleschi,
        Buoso degli Abati, Puccio Sciancato, Cianfa de' Donati,
        and Guercio Cavalcanti.
  XXVI. The Eighth Bolgia: Evil Counsellors.  Ulysses and Diomed.
        Ulysses' Last Voyage.
 XXVII. Guido da Montefeltro.  His deception by Pope Boniface VIII.
XXVIII. The Ninth Bolgia: Schismatics.  Mahomet and Ali.
        Pier da Medicina, Curio, Mosca, and Bertrand de Born.
  XXIX. Geri del Bello.  The Tenth Bolgia: Alchemists.
        Griffolino d' Arezzo and Capocchino.
   XXX. Other Falsifiers or Forgers.  Gianni Schicchi, Myrrha,
        Adam of Brescia, Potiphar's Wife, and Sinon of Troy.
  XXXI. The Giants, Nimrod, Ephialtes, and Antaeus.
        Descent to Cocytus.
 XXXII. The Ninth Circle: Traitors.  The Frozen Lake of Cocytus.
        First Division, Caina: Traitors to their Kindred.
        Camicion de' Pazzi.  Second Division, Antenora:
        Traitors to their Country.  Dante questions
        Bocca degli Abati.  Buoso da Duera.
XXXIII. Count Ugolino and the Archbishop Ruggieri.  The Death
        of Count Ugolino's Sons.  Third Division of the Ninth Circle,
        Ptolomaea: Traitors to their Friends.  Friar Alberigo,
        Branco d' Oria.
 XXXIV. Fourth Division of the Ninth Circle, the Judecca:
        Traitors to their Lords and Benefactors.  Lucifer,
        Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius. The Chasm of Lethe.
        The Ascent.
Incipit Comoedia Dantis Alagherii,
Florentini natione, non moribus.
The Divine Comedy
translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(e-text courtesy ILT's Digital Dante Project)
Inferno: Canto I
Midway upon the journey of our life
  I found myself within a forest dark,
  For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
  What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
  Which in the very thought renews the fear.
So bitter is it, death is little more;
  But of the good to treat, which there I found,
  Speak will I of the other things I saw there.
I cannot well repeat how there I entered,
  So full was I of slumber at the moment
  In which I had abandoned the true way.
But after I had reached a mountain's foot,
  At that point where the valley terminated,
  Which had with consternation pierced my heart,
Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,
  Vested already with that planet's rays
  Which leadeth others right by every road.
Then was the fear a little quieted
  That in my heart's lake had endured throughout
  The night, which I had passed so piteously.
And even as he, who, with distressful breath,
  Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,
  Turns to the water perilous and gazes;
So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,
  Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
  Which never yet a living person left.
After my weary body I had rested,
  The way resumed I on the desert slope,
  So that the firm foot ever was the lower.
And lo! almost where the ascent began,
  A panther light and swift exceedingly,
  Which with a spotted skin was covered o'er!
And never moved she from before my face,
  Nay, rather did impede so much my way,
  That many times I to return had turned.
The time was the beginning of the morning,
  And up the sun was mounting with those stars
  That with him were, what time the Love Divine
At first in motion set those beauteous things;
  So were to me occasion of good hope,
  The variegated skin of that wild beast,
The hour of time, and the delicious season;
  But not so much, that did not give me fear
  A lion's aspect which appeared to me.
He seemed as if against me he were coming
  With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,
  So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;
And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings
  Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,
  And many folk has caused to live forlorn!
She brought upon me so much heaviness,
  With the affright that from her aspect came,
  That I the hope relinquished of the height.
And as he is who willingly acquires,
  And the time comes that causes him to lose,
  Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,
E'en such made me that beast withouten peace,
  Which, coming on against me by degrees
  Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.
While I was rushing downward to the lowland,
  Before mine eyes did one present himself,
  Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.
When I beheld him in the desert vast,
  "Have pity on me," unto him I cried,
  "Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man!"
He answered me: "Not man; man once I was,
  And both my parents were of Lombardy,
  And Mantuans by country both of them.
'Sub Julio' was I born, though it was late,
  And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,
  During the time of false and lying gods.
A poet was I, and I sang that just
  Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,
  After that Ilion the superb was burned.
But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?
  Why climb'st thou not the Mount Delectable,
  Which is the source and cause of every joy?"
"Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain
  Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?"
  I made response to him with bashful forehead.
"O, of the other poets honour and light,
  Avail me the long study and great love
  That have impelled me to explore thy volume!
Thou art my master, and my author thou,
  Thou art alone the one from whom I took
  The beautiful style that has done honour to me.
Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
  Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
  For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble."
"Thee it behoves to take another road,"
  Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,
  "If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;
Because this beast, at which thou criest out,
  Suffers not any one to pass her way,
  But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;
And has a nature so malign and ruthless,
  That never doth she glut her greedy will,
  And after food is hungrier than before.
Many the animals with whom she weds,
  And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound
  Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.
He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
  But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;
  'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;
Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
  On whose account the maid Camilla died,
  Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;
Through every city shall he hunt her down,
  Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,
  There from whence envy first did let her loose.
Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
  Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,
  And lead thee hence through the eternal place,
Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
  Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
  Who cry out each one for the second death;
And thou shalt see those who contented are
  Within the fire, because they hope to come,
  Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;
To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
  A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;
  With her at my departure I will leave thee;
Because that Emperor, who reigns above,
  In that I was rebellious to his law,
  Wills that through me none come into his city.
He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;
  There is his city and his lofty throne;
  O happy he whom thereto he elects!"
And I to him: "Poet, I thee entreat,
  By that same God whom thou didst never know,
  So that I may escape this woe and worse,
Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,
  That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,
  And those thou makest so disconsolate."
Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.
Inferno: Canto II
Day was departing, and the embrowned air
  Released the animals that are on earth
  From their fatigues; and I the only one
Made myself ready to sustain the war,
  Both of the way and likewise of the woe,
  Which memory that errs not shall retrace.
O Muses, O high genius, now assist me!
  O memory, that didst write down what I saw,
  Here thy nobility shall be manifest!
And I began: "Poet, who guidest me,
  Regard my manhood, if it be sufficient,
  Ere to the arduous pass thou dost confide me.
Thou sayest, that of Silvius the parent,
  While yet corruptible, unto the world
  Immortal went, and was there bodily.
But if the adversary of all evil
  Was courteous, thinking of the high effect
  That issue would from him, and who, and what,
To men of intellect unmeet it seems not;
  For he was of great Rome, and of her empire
  In the empyreal heaven as father chosen;
The which and what, wishing to speak the truth,
  Were stablished as the holy place, wherein
  Sits the successor of the greatest Peter.
Upon this journey, whence thou givest him vaunt,
  Things did he hear, which the occasion were
  Both of his victory and the papal mantle.
Thither went afterwards the Chosen Vessel,
  To bring back comfort thence unto that Faith,
  Which of salvation's way is the beginning.
But I, why thither come, or who concedes it?
  I not Aeneas am, I am not Paul,
  Nor I, nor others, think me worthy of it.
Therefore, if I resign myself to come,
  I fear the coming may be ill-advised;
  Thou'rt wise, and knowest better than I speak."
And as he is, who unwills what he willed,
  And by new thoughts doth his intention change,
  So that from his design he quite withdraws,
Such I became, upon that dark hillside,
  Because, in thinking, I consumed the emprise,
  Which was so very prompt in the beginning.
"If I have well thy language understood,"
  Replied that shade of the Magnanimous,
  "Thy soul attainted is with cowardice,
Which many times a man encumbers so,
  It turns him back from honoured enterprise,
  As false sight doth a beast, when he is shy.
That thou mayst free thee from this apprehension,
  I'll tell thee why I came, and what I heard
  At the first moment when I grieved for thee.
Among those was I who are in suspense,
  And a fair, saintly Lady called to me
  In such wise, I besought her to command me.
Her eyes where shining brighter than the Star;
  And she began to say, gentle and low,
  With voice angelical, in her own language:
'O spirit courteous of Mantua,
  Of whom the fame still in the world endures,
  And shall endure, long-lasting as the world;
A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune,
  Upon the desert slope is so impeded
  Upon his way, that he has turned through terror,
And may, I fear, already be so lost,
  That I too late have risen to his succour,
  From that which I have heard of him in Heaven.
Bestir thee now, and with thy speech ornate,
  And with what needful is for his release,
  Assist him so, that I may be consoled.
Beatrice am I, who do bid thee go;
  I come from there, where I would fain return;
  Love moved me, which compelleth me to speak.
When I shall be in presence of my Lord,
  Full often will I praise thee unto him.'
  Then paused she, and thereafter I began:
'O Lady of virtue, thou alone through whom
  The human race exceedeth all contained
  Within the heaven that has the lesser circles,
So grateful unto me is thy commandment,
  To obey, if 'twere already done, were late;
  No farther need'st thou ope to me thy wish.
But the cause tell me why thou dost not shun
  The here descending down into this centre,
  From the vast place thou burnest to return to.'
'Since thou wouldst fain so inwardly discern,
  Briefly will I relate,' she answered me,
  'Why I am not afraid to enter here.
Of those things only should one be afraid
  Which have the power of doing others harm;
  Of the rest, no; because they are not fearful.
God in his mercy such created me
  That misery of yours attains me not,
  Nor any flame assails me of this burning.
A gentle Lady is in Heaven, who grieves
  At this impediment, to which I send thee,
  So that stern judgment there above is broken.
In her entreaty she besought Lucia,
  And said, "Thy faithful one now stands in need
  Of thee, and unto thee I recommend him."
Lucia, foe of all that cruel is,
  Hastened away, and came unto the place
  Where I was sitting with the ancient Rachel.
"Beatrice" said she, "the true praise of God,
  Why succourest thou not him, who loved thee so,
  For thee he issued from the vulgar herd?
Dost thou not hear the pity of his plaint?
  Dost thou not see the death that combats him
  Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt?"
Never were persons in the world so swift
  To work their weal and to escape their woe,
  As I, after such words as these were uttered,
Came hither downward from my blessed seat,
  Confiding in thy dignified discourse,
  Which honours thee, and those who've listened to it.'
After she thus had spoken unto me,
  Weeping, her shining eyes she turned away;
  Whereby she made me swifter in my coming;
And unto thee I came, as she desired;
  I have delivered thee from that wild beast,
  Which barred the beautiful mountain's short ascent.
What is it, then?  Why, why dost thou delay?
  Why is such baseness bedded in thy heart?
  Daring and hardihood why hast thou not,
Seeing that three such Ladies benedight
  Are caring for thee in the court of Heaven,
  And so much good my speech doth promise thee?"
Even as the flowerets, by nocturnal chill,
  Bowed down and closed, when the sun whitens them,
  Uplift themselves all open on their stems;
Such I became with my exhausted strength,
  And such good courage to my heart there coursed,
  That I began, like an intrepid person:
"O she compassionate, who succoured me,
  And courteous thou, who hast obeyed so soon
  The words of truth which she addressed to thee!
Thou hast my heart so with desire disposed
  To the adventure, with these words of thine,
  That to my first intent I have returned.
Now go, for one sole will is in us both,
  Thou Leader, and thou Lord, and Master thou."
  Thus said I to him; and when he had moved,
I entered on the deep and savage way.
Inferno: Canto III
"Through me the way is to the city dolent;
  Through me the way is to eternal dole;
  Through me the way among the people lost.
Justice incited my sublime Creator;
  Created me divine Omnipotence,
  The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.
Before me there were no created things,
  Only eterne, and I eternal last.
  All hope abandon, ye who enter in!"
These words in sombre colour I beheld
  Written upon the summit of a gate;
  Whence I: "Their sense is, Master, hard to me!"
And he to me, as one experienced:
  "Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned,
  All cowardice must needs be here extinct.
We to the place have come, where I have told thee
  Thou shalt behold the people dolorous
  Who have foregone the good of intellect."
And after he had laid his hand on mine
  With joyful mien, whence I was comforted,
  He led me in among the secret things.
There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud
  Resounded through the air without a star,
  Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat.
Languages diverse, horrible dialects,
  Accents of anger, words of agony,
  And voices high and hoarse, with sound of hands,
Made up a tumult that goes whirling on
  For ever in that air for ever black,
  Even as the sand doth, when the whirlwind breathes.
And I, who had my head with horror bound,
  Said: "Master, what is this which now I hear?
  What folk is this, which seems by pain so vanquished?"
And he to me: "This miserable mode
  Maintain the melancholy souls of those
  Who lived withouten infamy or praise.
Commingled are they with that caitiff choir
  Of Angels, who have not rebellious been,
  Nor faithful were to God, but were for self.
The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair;
  Nor them the nethermore abyss receives,
  For glory none the damned would have from them."
And I: "O Master, what so grievous is
  To these, that maketh them lament so sore?"
  He answered: "I will tell thee very briefly.
These have no longer any hope of death;
  And this blind life of theirs is so debased,
  They envious are of every other fate.
No fame of them the world permits to be;
  Misericord and Justice both disdain them.
  Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass."
And I, who looked again, beheld a banner,
  Which, whirling round, ran on so rapidly,
  That of all pause it seemed to me indignant;
And after it there came so long a train
  Of people, that I ne'er would have believed
  That ever Death so many had undone.
When some among them I had recognised,
  I looked, and I beheld the shade of him
  Who made through cowardice the great refusal.
Forthwith I comprehended, and was certain,
  That this the sect was of the caitiff wretches
  Hateful to God and to his enemies.
These miscreants, who never were alive,
  Were naked, and were stung exceedingly
  By gadflies and by hornets that were there.
These did their faces irrigate with blood,
  Which, with their tears commingled, at their feet
  By the disgusting worms was gathered up.
And when to gazing farther I betook me.
  People I saw on a great river's bank;
  Whence said I: "Master, now vouchsafe to me,
That I may know who these are, and what law
  Makes them appear so ready to pass over,
  As I discern athwart the dusky light."
And he to me: "These things shall all be known
  To thee, as soon as we our footsteps stay
  Upon the dismal shore of Acheron."
Then with mine eyes ashamed and downward cast,
  Fearing my words might irksome be to him,
  From speech refrained I till we reached the river.
And lo! towards us coming in a boat
  An old man, hoary with the hair of eld,
  Crying: "Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!
Hope nevermore to look upon the heavens;
  I come to lead you to the other shore,
  To the eternal shades in heat and frost.
And thou, that yonder standest, living soul,
  Withdraw thee from these people, who are dead!"
  But when he saw that I did not withdraw,
He said: "By other ways, by other ports
  Thou to the shore shalt come, not here, for passage;
  A lighter vessel needs must carry thee."
And unto him the Guide: "Vex thee not, Charon;
  It is so willed there where is power to do
  That which is willed; and farther question not."
Thereat were quieted the fleecy cheeks
  Of him the ferryman of the livid fen,
  Who round about his eyes had wheels of flame.
But all those souls who weary were and naked
  Their colour changed and gnashed their teeth together,
  As soon as they had heard those cruel words.
God they blasphemed and their progenitors,
  The human race, the place, the time, the seed
  Of their engendering and of their birth!
Thereafter all together they drew back,
  Bitterly weeping, to the accursed shore,
  Which waiteth every man who fears not God.
Charon the demon, with the eyes of glede,
  Beckoning to them, collects them all together,
  Beats with his oar whoever lags behind.
As in the autumn-time the leaves fall off,
  First one and then another, till the branch
  Unto the earth surrenders all its spoils;
In similar wise the evil seed of Adam
  Throw themselves from that margin one by one,
  At signals, as a bird unto its lure.
So they depart across the dusky wave,
  And ere upon the other side they land,
  Again on this side a new troop assembles.
"My son," the courteous Master said to me,
  "All those who perish in the wrath of God
  Here meet together out of every land;
And ready are they to pass o'er the river,
  Because celestial Justice spurs them on,
  So that their fear is turned into desire.
This way there never passes a good soul;
  And hence if Charon doth complain of thee,
  Well mayst thou know now what his speech imports."
This being finished, all the dusk champaign
  Trembled so violently, that of that terror
  The recollection bathes me still with sweat.
The land of tears gave forth a blast of wind,
  And fulminated a vermilion light,
  Which overmastered in me every sense,
And as a man whom sleep hath seized I fell.
Inferno: Canto IV
Broke the deep lethargy within my head
  A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted,
  Like to a person who by force is wakened;
And round about I moved my rested eyes,
  Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed,
  To recognise the place wherein I was.
True is it, that upon the verge I found me
  Of the abysmal valley dolorous,
  That gathers thunder of infinite ululations.
Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous,
  So that by fixing on its depths my sight
  Nothing whatever I discerned therein.
"Let us descend now into the blind world,"
  Began the Poet, pallid utterly;
  "I will be first, and thou shalt second be."
And I, who of his colour was aware,
  Said: "How shall I come, if thou art afraid,
  Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?"
And he to me: "The anguish of the people
  Who are below here in my face depicts
  That pity which for terror thou hast taken.
Let us go on, for the long way impels us."
  Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter
  The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.
There, as it seemed to me from listening,
  Were lamentations none, but only sighs,
  That tremble made the everlasting air.
And this arose from sorrow without torment,
  Which the crowds had, that many were and great,
  Of infants and of women and of men.
To me the Master good: "Thou dost not ask
  What spirits these, which thou beholdest, are?
  Now will I have thee know, ere thou go farther,
That they sinned not; and if they merit had,
  'Tis not enough, because they had not baptism
  Which is the portal of the Faith thou holdest;
And if they were before Christianity,
  In the right manner they adored not God;
  And among such as these am I myself.
For such defects, and not for other guilt,
  Lost are we and are only so far punished,
  That without hope we live on in desire."
Great grief seized on my heart when this I heard,
  Because some people of much worthiness
  I knew, who in that Limbo were suspended.
"Tell me, my Master, tell me, thou my Lord,"
  Began I, with desire of being certain
  Of that Faith which o'ercometh every error,
"Came any one by his own merit hence,
  Or by another's, who was blessed thereafter?"
  And he, who understood my covert speech,
Replied: "I was a novice in this state,
  When I saw hither come a Mighty One,
  With sign of victory incoronate.
Hence he drew forth the shade of the First Parent,
  And that of his son Abel, and of Noah,
  Of Moses the lawgiver, and the obedient
Abraham, patriarch, and David, king,
  Israel with his father and his children,
  And Rachel, for whose sake he did so much,
And others many, and he made them blessed;
  And thou must know, that earlier than these
  Never were any human spirits saved."
We ceased not to advance because he spake,
  But still were passing onward through the forest,
  The forest, say I, of thick-crowded ghosts.
Not very far as yet our way had gone
  This side the summit, when I saw a fire
  That overcame a hemisphere of darkness.
We were a little distant from it still,
  But not so far that I in part discerned not
  That honourable people held that place.
"O thou who honourest every art and science,
  Who may these be, which such great honour have,
  That from the fashion of the rest it parts them?"
And he to me: "The honourable name,
  That sounds of them above there in thy life,
  Wins grace in Heaven, that so advances them."
In the mean time a voice was heard by me:
  "All honour be to the pre-eminent Poet;
  His shade returns again, that was departed."
After the voice had ceased and quiet was,
  Four mighty shades I saw approaching us;
  Semblance had they nor sorrowful nor glad.
To say to me began my gracious Master:
  "Him with that falchion in his hand behold,
  Who comes before the three, even as their lord.
That one is Homer, Poet sovereign;
  He who comes next is Horace, the satirist;
  The third is Ovid, and the last is Lucan.
Because to each of these with me applies
  The name that solitary voice proclaimed,
  They do me honour, and in that do well."
Thus I beheld assemble the fair school
  Of that lord of the song pre-eminent,
  Who o'er the others like an eagle soars.
When they together had discoursed somewhat,
  They turned to me with signs of salutation,
  And on beholding this, my Master smiled;
And more of honour still, much more, they did me,
  In that they made me one of their own band;
  So that the sixth was I, 'mid so much wit.
Thus we went on as far as to the light,
  Things saying 'tis becoming to keep silent,
  As was the saying of them where I was.
We came unto a noble castle's foot,
  Seven times encompassed with lofty walls,
  Defended round by a fair rivulet;
This we passed over even as firm ground;
  Through portals seven I entered with these Sages;
  We came into a meadow of fresh verdure.
People were there with solemn eyes and slow,
  Of great authority in their countenance;
  They spake but seldom, and with gentle voices.
Thus we withdrew ourselves upon one side
  Into an opening luminous and lofty,
  So that they all of them were visible.
There opposite, upon the green enamel,
  Were pointed out to me the mighty spirits,
  Whom to have seen I feel myself exalted.
I saw Electra with companions many,
  'Mongst whom I knew both Hector and Aeneas,
  Caesar in armour with gerfalcon eyes;
I saw Camilla and Penthesilea
  On the other side, and saw the King Latinus,
  Who with Lavinia his daughter sat;
I saw that Brutus who drove Tarquin forth,
  Lucretia, Julia, Marcia, and Cornelia,
  And saw alone, apart, the Saladin.
When I had lifted up my brows a little,
  The Master I beheld of those who know,
  Sit with his philosophic family.
All gaze upon him, and all do him honour.
  There I beheld both Socrates and Plato,
  Who nearer him before the others stand;
Democritus, who puts the world on chance,
  Diogenes, Anaxagoras, and Thales,
  Zeno, Empedocles, and Heraclitus;
Of qualities I saw the good collector,
  Hight Dioscorides; and Orpheus saw I,
  Tully and Livy, and moral Seneca,
Euclid, geometrician, and Ptolemy,
  Galen, Hippocrates, and Avicenna,
  Averroes, who the great Comment made.
I cannot all of them pourtray in full,
  Because so drives me onward the long theme,
  That many times the word comes short of fact.
The sixfold company in two divides;
  Another way my sapient Guide conducts me
  Forth from the quiet to the air that trembles;
And to a place I come where nothing shines.
Inferno: Canto V
Thus I descended out of the first circle
  Down to the second, that less space begirds,
  And so much greater dole, that goads to wailing.
There standeth Minos horribly, and snarls;
  Examines the transgressions at the entrance;
  Judges, and sends according as he girds him.
I say, that when the spirit evil-born
  Cometh before him, wholly it confesses;
  And this discriminator of transgressions
Seeth what place in Hell is meet for it;
  Girds himself with his tail as many times
  As grades he wishes it should be thrust down.
Always before him many of them stand;
  They go by turns each one unto the judgment;
  They speak, and hear, and then are downward hurled.
"O thou, that to this dolorous hostelry
  Comest," said Minos to me, when he saw me,
  Leaving the practice of so great an office,
"Look how thou enterest, and in whom thou trustest;
  Let not the portal's amplitude deceive thee."
  And unto him my Guide: "Why criest thou too?
Do not impede his journey fate-ordained;
  It is so willed there where is power to do
  That which is willed; and ask no further question."
And now begin the dolesome notes to grow
  Audible unto me; now am I come
  There where much lamentation strikes upon me.
I came into a place mute of all light,
  Which bellows as the sea does in a tempest,
  If by opposing winds 't is combated.
The infernal hurricane that never rests
  Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine;
  Whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them.
When they arrive before the precipice,
  There are the shrieks, the plaints, and the laments,
  There they blaspheme the puissance divine.
I understood that unto such a torment
  The carnal malefactors were condemned,
  Who reason subjugate to appetite.
And as the wings of starlings bear them on
  In the cold season in large band and full,
  So doth that blast the spirits maledict;
It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them;
  No hope doth comfort them for evermore,
  Not of repose, but even of lesser pain.
And as the cranes go chanting forth their lays,
  Making in air a long line of themselves,
  So saw I coming, uttering lamentations,
Shadows borne onward by the aforesaid stress.
  Whereupon said I: "Master, who are those
  People, whom the black air so castigates?"
"The first of those, of whom intelligence
  Thou fain wouldst have," then said he unto me,
  "The empress was of many languages.
To sensual vices she was so abandoned,
  That lustful she made licit in her law,
  To remove the blame to which she had been led.
She is Semiramis, of whom we read
  That she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse;
  She held the land which now the Sultan rules.
The next is she who killed herself for love,
  And broke faith with the ashes of Sichaeus;
  Then Cleopatra the voluptuous."
Helen I saw, for whom so many ruthless
  Seasons revolved; and saw the great Achilles,
  Who at the last hour combated with Love.
Paris I saw, Tristan; and more than a thousand
  Shades did he name and point out with his finger,
  Whom Love had separated from our life.
After that I had listened to my Teacher,
  Naming the dames of eld and cavaliers,
  Pity prevailed, and I was nigh bewildered.
And I began: "O Poet, willingly
  Speak would I to those two, who go together,
  And seem upon the wind to be so light."
And, he to me: "Thou'lt mark, when they shall be
  Nearer to us; and then do thou implore them
  By love which leadeth them, and they will come."
Soon as the wind in our direction sways them,
  My voice uplift I: "O ye weary souls!
  Come speak to us, if no one interdicts it."
As turtle-doves, called onward by desire,
  With open and steady wings to the sweet nest
  Fly through the air by their volition borne,
So came they from the band where Dido is,
  Approaching us athwart the air malign,
  So strong was the affectionate appeal.
"O living creature gracious and benignant,
  Who visiting goest through the purple air
  Us, who have stained the world incarnadine,
If were the King of the Universe our friend,
  We would pray unto him to give thee peace,
  Since thou hast pity on our woe perverse.
Of what it pleases thee to hear and speak,
  That will we hear, and we will speak to you,
  While silent is the wind, as it is now.
Sitteth the city, wherein I was born,
  Upon the sea-shore where the Po descends
  To rest in peace with all his retinue.
Love, that on gentle heart doth swiftly seize,
  Seized this man for the person beautiful
  That was ta'en from me, and still the mode offends me.
Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving,
  Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly,
  That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me;
Love has conducted us unto one death;
  Caina waiteth him who quenched our life!"
  These words were borne along from them to us.
As soon as I had heard those souls tormented,
  I bowed my face, and so long held it down
  Until the Poet said to me: "What thinkest?"
When I made answer, I began: "Alas!
  How many pleasant thoughts, how much desire,
  Conducted these unto the dolorous pass!"
Then unto them I turned me, and I spake,
  And I began: "Thine agonies, Francesca,
  Sad and compassionate to weeping make me.
But tell me, at the time of those sweet sighs,
  By what and in what manner Love conceded,
  That you should know your dubious desires?"
And she to me: "There is no greater sorrow
  Than to be mindful of the happy time
  In misery, and that thy Teacher knows.
But, if to recognise the earliest root
  Of love in us thou hast so great desire,
  I will do even as he who weeps and speaks.
One day we reading were for our delight
  Of Launcelot, how Love did him enthral.
  Alone we were and without any fear.
Full many a time our eyes together drew
  That reading, and drove the colour from our faces;
  But one point only was it that o'ercame us.
When as we read of the much-longed-for smile
  Being by such a noble lover kissed,
  This one, who ne'er from me shall be divided,
Kissed me upon the mouth all palpitating.
  Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it.
  That day no farther did we read therein."
And all the while one spirit uttered this,
  The other one did weep so, that, for pity,
  I swooned away as if I had been dying,
And fell, even as a dead body falls.
Inferno: Canto VI
At the return of consciousness, that closed
  Before the pity of those two relations,
  Which utterly with sadness had confused me,
New torments I behold, and new tormented
  Around me, whichsoever way I move,
  And whichsoever way I turn, and gaze.
In the third circle am I of the rain
  Eternal, maledict, and cold, and heavy;
  Its law and quality are never new.
Huge hail, and water sombre-hued, and snow,
  Athwart the tenebrous air pour down amain;
  Noisome the earth is, that receiveth this.
Cerberus, monster cruel and uncouth,
  With his three gullets like a dog is barking
  Over the people that are there submerged.
Red eyes he has, and unctuous beard and black,
  And belly large, and armed with claws his hands;
  He rends the spirits, flays, and quarters them.
Howl the rain maketh them like unto dogs;
  One side they make a shelter for the other;
  Oft turn themselves the wretched reprobates.
When Cerberus perceived us, the great worm!
   His mouths he opened, and displayed his tusks;
   Not a limb had he that was motionless.
And my Conductor, with his spans extended,
  Took of the earth, and with his fists well filled,
  He threw it into those rapacious gullets.
Such as that dog is, who by barking craves,
  And quiet grows soon as his food he gnaws,
  For to devour it he but thinks and struggles,
The like became those muzzles filth-begrimed
  Of Cerberus the demon, who so thunders
  Over the souls that they would fain be deaf.
We passed across the shadows, which subdues
  The heavy rain-storm, and we placed our feet
  Upon their vanity that person seems.
They all were lying prone upon the earth,
  Excepting one, who sat upright as soon
  As he beheld us passing on before him.
"O thou that art conducted through this Hell,"
  He said to me, "recall me, if thou canst;
  Thyself wast made before I was unmade."
And I to him: "The anguish which thou hast
  Perhaps doth draw thee out of my remembrance,
  So that it seems not I have ever seen thee.
But tell me who thou art, that in so doleful
  A place art put, and in such punishment,
  If some are greater, none is so displeasing."
And he to me: "Thy city, which is full
  Of envy so that now the sack runs over,
  Held me within it in the life serene.
You citizens were wont to call me Ciacco;
  For the pernicious sin of gluttony
  I, as thou seest, am battered by this rain.
And I, sad soul, am not the only one,
  For all these suffer the like penalty
  For the like sin;" and word no more spake he.
I answered him: "Ciacco, thy wretchedness
  Weighs on me so that it to weep invites me;
  But tell me, if thou knowest, to what shall come
The citizens of the divided city;
  If any there be just; and the occasion
  Tell me why so much discord has assailed it."
And he to me: "They, after long contention,
  Will come to bloodshed; and the rustic party
  Will drive the other out with much offence.
Then afterwards behoves it this one fall
  Within three suns, and rise again the other
  By force of him who now is on the coast.
High will it hold its forehead a long while,
  Keeping the other under heavy burdens,
  Howe'er it weeps thereat and is indignant.
The just are two, and are not understood there;
  Envy and Arrogance and Avarice
  Are the three sparks that have all hearts enkindled."
Here ended he his tearful utterance;
  And I to him: "I wish thee still to teach me,
  And make a gift to me of further speech.
Farinata and Tegghiaio, once so worthy,
  Jacopo Rusticucci, Arrigo, and Mosca,
  And others who on good deeds set their thoughts,
Say where they are, and cause that I may know them;
  For great desire constraineth me to learn
  If Heaven doth sweeten them, or Hell envenom."
And he: "They are among the blacker souls;
  A different sin downweighs them to the bottom;
  If thou so far descendest, thou canst see them.
But when thou art again in the sweet world,
  I pray thee to the mind of others bring me;
  No more I tell thee and no more I answer."
Then his straightforward eyes he turned askance,
  Eyed me a little, and then bowed his head;
  He fell therewith prone like the other blind.
And the Guide said to me: "He wakes no more
  This side the sound of the angelic trumpet;
  When shall approach the hostile Potentate,
Each one shall find again his dismal tomb,
  Shall reassume his flesh and his own figure,
  Shall hear what through eternity re-echoes."
So we passed onward o'er the filthy mixture
  Of shadows and of rain with footsteps slow,
  Touching a little on the future life.
Wherefore I said: "Master, these torments here,
  Will they increase after the mighty sentence,
  Or lesser be, or will they be as burning?"
And he to me: "Return unto thy science,
  Which wills, that as the thing more perfect is,
  The more it feels of pleasure and of pain.
Albeit that this people maledict
  To true perfection never can attain,
  Hereafter more than now they look to be."
Round in a circle by that road we went,
  Speaking much more, which I do not repeat;
  We came unto the point where the descent is;
There we found Plutus the great enemy.
Inferno: Canto VII
"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!"
  Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began;
  And that benignant Sage, who all things knew,
Said, to encourage me: "Let not thy fear
  Harm thee; for any power that he may have
  Shall not prevent thy going down this crag."
Then he turned round unto that bloated lip,
  And said: "Be silent, thou accursed wolf;
  Consume within thyself with thine own rage.
Not causeless is this journey to the abyss;
  Thus is it willed on high, where Michael wrought
  Vengeance upon the proud adultery."
Even as the sails inflated by the wind
  Involved together fall when snaps the mast,
  So fell the cruel monster to the earth.
Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,
  Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore
  Which all the woe of the universe insacks.
Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many
  New toils and sufferings as I beheld?
  And why doth our transgression waste us so?
As doth the billow there upon Charybdis,
  That breaks itself on that which it encounters,
  So here the folk must dance their roundelay.
Here saw I people, more than elsewhere, many,
  On one side and the other, with great howls,
  Rolling weights forward by main force of chest.
They clashed together, and then at that point
  Each one turned backward, rolling retrograde,
  Crying, "Why keepest?" and, "Why squanderest thou?"
Thus they returned along the lurid circle
  On either hand unto the opposite point,
  Shouting their shameful metre evermore.
Then each, when he arrived there, wheeled about
  Through his half-circle to another joust;
  And I, who had my heart pierced as it were,
Exclaimed: "My Master, now declare to me
  What people these are, and if all were clerks,
  These shaven crowns upon the left of us."
And he to me: "All of them were asquint
  In intellect in the first life, so much
  That there with measure they no spending made.
Clearly enough their voices bark it forth,
  Whene'er they reach the two points of the circle,
  Where sunders them the opposite defect.
Clerks those were who no hairy covering
  Have on the head, and Popes and Cardinals,
  In whom doth Avarice practise its excess."
And I: "My Master, among such as these
  I ought forsooth to recognise some few,
  Who were infected with these maladies."
And he to me: "Vain thought thou entertainest;
  The undiscerning life which made them sordid
  Now makes them unto all discernment dim.
Forever shall they come to these two buttings;
  These from the sepulchre shall rise again
  With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn.
Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world
  Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle;
  Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it.
Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce
  Of goods that are committed unto Fortune,
  For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
  Or ever has been, of these weary souls
  Could never make a single one repose."
"Master," I said to him, "now tell me also
  What is this Fortune which thou speakest of,
  That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"
And he to me: "O creatures imbecile,
  What ignorance is this which doth beset you?
  Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her.
He whose omniscience everything transcends
  The heavens created, and gave who should guide them,
  That every part to every part may shine,
Distributing the light in equal measure;
  He in like manner to the mundane splendours
  Ordained a general ministress and guide,
That she might change at times the empty treasures
  From race to race, from one blood to another,
  Beyond resistance of all human wisdom.
Therefore one people triumphs, and another
  Languishes, in pursuance of her judgment,
  Which hidden is, as in the grass a serpent.
Your knowledge has no counterstand against her;
  She makes provision, judges, and pursues
  Her governance, as theirs the other gods.
Her permutations have not any truce;
  Necessity makes her precipitate,
  So often cometh who his turn obtains.
And this is she who is so crucified
  Even by those who ought to give her praise,
  Giving her blame amiss, and bad repute.
But she is blissful, and she hears it not;
  Among the other primal creatures gladsome
  She turns her sphere, and blissful she rejoices.
Let us descend now unto greater woe;
  Already sinks each star that was ascending
  When I set out, and loitering is forbidden."
We crossed the circle to the other bank,
  Near to a fount that boils, and pours itself
  Along a gully that runs out of it.
The water was more sombre far than perse;
  And we, in company with the dusky waves,
  Made entrance downward by a path uncouth.
A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx,
  This tristful brooklet, when it has descended
  Down to the foot of the malign gray shores.
And I, who stood intent upon beholding,
  Saw people mud-besprent in that lagoon,
  All of them naked and with angry look.
They smote each other not alone with hands,
  But with the head and with the breast and feet,
  Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth.
Said the good Master: "Son, thou now beholdest
  The souls of those whom anger overcame;
  And likewise I would have thee know for certain
Beneath the water people are who sigh
  And make this water bubble at the surface,
  As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns.
Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were
  In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened,
  Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek;
Now we are sullen in this sable mire.'
  This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats,
  For with unbroken words they cannot say it."
Thus we went circling round the filthy fen
  A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp,
  With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire;
Unto the foot of a tower we came at last.
Inferno: Canto VIII
I say, continuing, that long before
  We to the foot of that high tower had come,
  Our eyes went upward to the summit of it,
By reason of two flamelets we saw placed there,
  And from afar another answer them,
  So far, that hardly could the eye attain it.
And, to the sea of all discernment turned,
  I said: "What sayeth this, and what respondeth
  That other fire? and who are they that made it?"
And he to me: "Across the turbid waves
  What is expected thou canst now discern,
  If reek of the morass conceal it not."
Cord never shot an arrow from itself
  That sped away athwart the air so swift,
  As I beheld a very little boat
Come o'er the water tow'rds us at that moment,
  Under the guidance of a single pilot,
  Who shouted, "Now art thou arrived, fell soul?"
"Phlegyas, Phlegyas, thou criest out in vain
  For this once," said my Lord; "thou shalt not have us
  Longer than in the passing of the slough."
As he who listens to some great deceit
  That has been done to him, and then resents it,
  Such became Phlegyas, in his gathered wrath.
My Guide descended down into the boat,
  And then he made me enter after him,
  And only when I entered seemed it laden.
Soon as the Guide and I were in the boat,
  The antique prow goes on its way, dividing
  More of the water than 'tis wont with others.
While we were running through the dead canal,
  Uprose in front of me one full of mire,
  And said, "Who 'rt thou that comest ere the hour?"
And I to him: "Although I come, I stay not;
  But who art thou that hast become so squalid?"
  "Thou seest that I am one who weeps," he answered.
And I to him: "With weeping and with wailing,
  Thou spirit maledict, do thou remain;
  For thee I know, though thou art all defiled."
Then stretched he both his hands unto the boat;
  Whereat my wary Master thrust him back,
  Saying, "Away there with the other dogs!"
Thereafter with his arms he clasped my neck;
  He kissed my face, and said: "Disdainful soul,
  Blessed be she who bore thee in her bosom.
That was an arrogant person in the world;
  Goodness is none, that decks his memory;
  So likewise here his shade is furious.
How many are esteemed great kings up there,
  Who here shall be like unto swine in mire,
  Leaving behind them horrible dispraises!"
And I: "My Master, much should I be pleased,
  If I could see him soused into this broth,
  Before we issue forth out of the lake."
And he to me: "Ere unto thee the shore
  Reveal itself, thou shalt be satisfied;
  Such a desire 'tis meet thou shouldst enjoy."
A little after that, I saw such havoc
  Made of him by the people of the mire,
  That still I praise and thank my God for it.
They all were shouting, "At Philippo Argenti!"
  And that exasperate spirit Florentine
  Turned round upon himself with his own teeth.
We left him there, and more of him I tell not;
  But on mine ears there smote a lamentation,
  Whence forward I intent unbar mine eyes.
And the good Master said: "Even now, my Son,
  The city draweth near whose name is Dis,
  With the grave citizens, with the great throng."
And I: "Its mosques already, Master, clearly
  Within there in the valley I discern
  Vermilion, as if issuing from the fire
They were."  And he to me: "The fire eternal
  That kindles them within makes them look red,
  As thou beholdest in this nether Hell."
Then we arrived within the moats profound,
  That circumvallate that disconsolate city;
  The walls appeared to me to be of iron.
Not without making first a circuit wide,
  We came unto a place where loud the pilot
  Cried out to us, "Debark, here is the entrance."
More than a thousand at the gates I saw
  Out of the Heavens rained down, who angrily
  Were saying, "Who is this that without death
Goes through the kingdom of the people dead?"
  And my sagacious Master made a sign
  Of wishing secretly to speak with them.
A little then they quelled their great disdain,
  And said: "Come thou alone, and he begone
  Who has so boldly entered these dominions.
Let him return alone by his mad road;
  Try, if he can; for thou shalt here remain,
  Who hast escorted him through such dark regions."
Think, Reader, if I was discomforted
  At utterance of the accursed words;
  For never to return here I believed.
"O my dear Guide, who more than seven times
  Hast rendered me security, and drawn me
  From imminent peril that before me stood,
Do not desert me," said I, "thus undone;
  And if the going farther be denied us,
  Let us retrace our steps together swiftly."
And that Lord, who had led me thitherward,
  Said unto me: "Fear not; because our passage
  None can take from us, it by Such is given.
But here await me, and thy weary spirit
  Comfort and nourish with a better hope;
  For in this nether world I will not leave thee."
So onward goes and there abandons me
  My Father sweet, and I remain in doubt,
  For No and Yes within my head contend.
I could not hear what he proposed to them;
  But with them there he did not linger long,
  Ere each within in rivalry ran back.
They closed the portals, those our adversaries,
  On my Lord's breast, who had remained without
  And turned to me with footsteps far between.
His eyes cast down, his forehead shorn had he
  Of all its boldness, and he said, with sighs,
  "Who has denied to me the dolesome houses?"
And unto me: "Thou, because I am angry,
  Fear not, for I will conquer in the trial,
  Whatever for defence within be planned.
This arrogance of theirs is nothing new;
  For once they used it at less secret gate,
  Which finds itself without a fastening still.
O'er it didst thou behold the dead inscription;
  And now this side of it descends the steep,
  Passing across the circles without escort,
One by whose means the city shall be opened."
Inferno: Canto IX
That hue which cowardice brought out on me,
  Beholding my Conductor backward turn,
  Sooner repressed within him his new colour.
He stopped attentive, like a man who listens,
  Because the eye could not conduct him far
  Through the black air, and through the heavy fog.
"Still it behoveth us to win the fight,"
  Began he; "Else. . .Such offered us herself. . .
  O how I long that some one here arrive!"
Well I perceived, as soon as the beginning
  He covered up with what came afterward,
  That they were words quite different from the first;
But none the less his saying gave me fear,
  Because I carried out the broken phrase,
  Perhaps to a worse meaning than he had.
"Into this bottom of the doleful conch
  Doth any e'er descend from the first grade,
  Which for its pain has only hope cut off?"
This question put I; and he answered me:
  "Seldom it comes to pass that one of us
  Maketh the journey upon which I go.
True is it, once before I here below
  Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho,
  Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies.
Naked of me short while the flesh had been,
  Before within that wall she made me enter,
  To bring a spirit from the circle of Judas;
That is the lowest region and the darkest,
  And farthest from the heaven which circles all.
  Well know I the way; therefore be reassured.
This fen, which a prodigious stench exhales,
  Encompasses about the city dolent,
  Where now we cannot enter without anger."
And more he said, but not in mind I have it;
  Because mine eye had altogether drawn me
  Tow'rds the high tower with the red-flaming summit,
Where in a moment saw I swift uprisen
  The three infernal Furies stained with blood,
  Who had the limbs of women and their mien,
And with the greenest hydras were begirt;
  Small serpents and cerastes were their tresses,
  Wherewith their horrid temples were entwined.
And he who well the handmaids of the Queen
  Of everlasting lamentation knew,
  Said unto me: "Behold the fierce Erinnys.
This is Megaera, on the left-hand side;
  She who is weeping on the right, Alecto;
  Tisiphone is between;" and then was silent.
Each one her breast was rending with her nails;
  They beat them with their palms, and cried so loud,
  That I for dread pressed close unto the Poet.
"Medusa come, so we to stone will change him!"
  All shouted looking down; "in evil hour
  Avenged we not on Theseus his assault!"
"Turn thyself round, and keep thine eyes close shut,
  For if the Gorgon appear, and thou shouldst see it,
  No more returning upward would there be."
Thus said the Master; and he turned me round
  Himself, and trusted not unto my hands
  So far as not to blind me with his own.
O ye who have undistempered intellects,
  Observe the doctrine that conceals itself
  Beneath the veil of the mysterious verses!
And now there came across the turbid waves
  The clangour of a sound with terror fraught,
  Because of which both of the margins trembled;
Not otherwise it was than of a wind
  Impetuous on account of adverse heats,
  That smites the forest, and, without restraint,
The branches rends, beats down, and bears away;
  Right onward, laden with dust, it goes superb,
  And puts to flight the wild beasts and the shepherds.
Mine eyes he loosed, and said: "Direct the nerve
  Of vision now along that ancient foam,
  There yonder where that smoke is most intense."
Even as the frogs before the hostile serpent
  Across the water scatter all abroad,
  Until each one is huddled in the earth.
More than a thousand ruined souls I saw,
  Thus fleeing from before one who on foot
  Was passing o'er the Styx with soles unwet.
From off his face he fanned that unctuous air,
  Waving his left hand oft in front of him,
  And only with that anguish seemed he weary.
Well I perceived one sent from Heaven was he,
  And to the Master turned; and he made sign
  That I should quiet stand, and bow before him.
Ah! how disdainful he appeared to me!
  He reached the gate, and with a little rod
  He opened it, for there was no resistance.
"O banished out of Heaven, people despised!"
  Thus he began upon the horrid threshold;
  "Whence is this arrogance within you couched?
Wherefore recalcitrate against that will,
  From which the end can never be cut off,
  And which has many times increased your pain?
What helpeth it to butt against the fates?
  Your Cerberus, if you remember well,
  For that still bears his chin and gullet peeled."
Then he returned along the miry road,
  And spake no word to us, but had the look
  Of one whom other care constrains and goads
Than that of him who in his presence is;
  And we our feet directed tow'rds the city,
  After those holy words all confident.
Within we entered without any contest;
  And I, who inclination had to see
  What the condition such a fortress holds,
Soon as I was within, cast round mine eye,
  And see on every hand an ample plain,
  Full of distress and torment terrible.
Even as at Arles, where stagnant grows the Rhone,
  Even as at Pola near to the Quarnaro,
  That shuts in Italy and bathes its borders,
The sepulchres make all the place uneven;
  So likewise did they there on every side,
  Saving that there the manner was more bitter;
For flames between the sepulchres were scattered,
  By which they so intensely heated were,
  That iron more so asks not any art.
All of their coverings uplifted were,
  And from them issued forth such dire laments,
  Sooth seemed they of the wretched and tormented.
And I: "My Master, what are all those people
  Who, having sepulture within those tombs,
  Make themselves audible by doleful sighs?"
And he to me: "Here are the Heresiarchs,
  With their disciples of all sects, and much
  More than thou thinkest laden are the tombs.
Here like together with its like is buried;
  And more and less the monuments are heated."
  And when he to the right had turned, we passed
Between the torments and high parapets.
Inferno: Canto X
Now onward goes, along a narrow path
  Between the torments and the city wall,
  My Master, and I follow at his back.
"O power supreme, that through these impious circles
  Turnest me," I began, "as pleases thee,
  Speak to me, and my longings satisfy;
The people who are lying in these tombs,
  Might they be seen? already are uplifted
  The covers all, and no one keepeth guard."
And he to me: "They all will be closed up
  When from Jehoshaphat they shall return
  Here with the bodies they have left above.
Their cemetery have upon this side
  With Epicurus all his followers,
  Who with the body mortal make the soul;
But in the question thou dost put to me,
  Within here shalt thou soon be satisfied,
  And likewise in the wish thou keepest silent."
And I: "Good Leader, I but keep concealed
  From thee my heart, that I may speak the less,
  Nor only now hast thou thereto disposed me."
"O Tuscan, thou who through the city of fire
  Goest alive, thus speaking modestly,
  Be pleased to stay thy footsteps in this place.
Thy mode of speaking makes thee manifest
  A native of that noble fatherland,
  To which perhaps I too molestful was."
Upon a sudden issued forth this sound
  From out one of the tombs; wherefore I pressed,
  Fearing, a little nearer to my Leader.
And unto me he said: "Turn thee; what dost thou?
  Behold there Farinata who has risen;
  From the waist upwards wholly shalt thou see him."
I had already fixed mine eyes on his,
  And he uprose erect with breast and front
  E'en as if Hell he had in great despite.
And with courageous hands and prompt my Leader
  Thrust me between the sepulchres towards him,
  Exclaiming, "Let thy words explicit be."
As soon as I was at the foot of his tomb
  Somewhat he eyed me, and, as if disdainful,
  Then asked of me, "Who were thine ancestors?"
I, who desirous of obeying was,
  Concealed it not, but all revealed to him;
  Whereat he raised his brows a little upward.
Then said he: "Fiercely adverse have they been
  To me, and to my fathers, and my party;
  So that two several times I scattered them."
"If they were banished, they returned on all sides,"
  I answered him, "the first time and the second;
  But yours have not acquired that art aright."
Then there uprose upon the sight, uncovered
  Down to the chin, a shadow at his side;
  I think that he had risen on his knees.
Round me he gazed, as if solicitude
  He had to see if some one else were with me,
  But after his suspicion was all spent,
Weeping, he said to me: "If through this blind
  Prison thou goest by loftiness of genius,
  Where is my son? and why is he not with thee?"
And I to him: "I come not of myself;
  He who is waiting yonder leads me here,
  Whom in disdain perhaps your Guido had."
His language and the mode of punishment
  Already unto me had read his name;
  On that account my answer was so full.
Up starting suddenly, he cried out: "How
  Saidst thou,--he had?  Is he not still alive?
  Does not the sweet light strike upon his eyes?"
When he became aware of some delay,
  Which I before my answer made, supine
  He fell again, and forth appeared no more.
But the other, magnanimous, at whose desire
  I had remained, did not his aspect change,
  Neither his neck he moved, nor bent his side.
"And if," continuing his first discourse,
  "They have that art," he said, "not learned aright,
  That more tormenteth me, than doth this bed.
But fifty times shall not rekindled be
  The countenance of the Lady who reigns here,
  Ere thou shalt know how heavy is that art;
And as thou wouldst to the sweet world return,
  Say why that people is so pitiless
  Against my race in each one of its laws?"
Whence I to him: "The slaughter and great carnage
  Which have with crimson stained the Arbia, cause
  Such orisons in our temple to be made."
After his head he with a sigh had shaken,
  "There I was not alone," he said, "nor surely
  Without a cause had with the others moved.
But there I was alone, where every one
  Consented to the laying waste of Florence,
  He who defended her with open face."
"Ah! so hereafter may your seed repose,"
  I him entreated, "solve for me that knot,
  Which has entangled my conceptions here.
It seems that you can see, if I hear rightly,
  Beforehand whatsoe'er time brings with it,
  And in the present have another mode."
"We see, like those who have imperfect sight,
  The things," he said, "that distant are from us;
  So much still shines on us the Sovereign Ruler.
When they draw near, or are, is wholly vain
  Our intellect, and if none brings it to us,
  Not anything know we of your human state.
Hence thou canst understand, that wholly dead
  Will be our knowledge from the moment when
  The portal of the future shall be closed."
Then I, as if compunctious for my fault,
  Said: "Now, then, you will tell that fallen one,
  That still his son is with the living joined.
And if just now, in answering, I was dumb,
  Tell him I did it because I was thinking
  Already of the error you have solved me."
And now my Master was recalling me,
  Wherefore more eagerly I prayed the spirit
  That he would tell me who was with him there.
He said: "With more than a thousand here I lie;
  Within here is the second Frederick,
  And the Cardinal, and of the rest I speak not."
Thereon he hid himself; and I towards
  The ancient poet turned my steps, reflecting
  Upon that saying, which seemed hostile to me.
He moved along; and afterward thus going,
  He said to me, "Why art thou so bewildered?"
  And I in his inquiry satisfied him.
"Let memory preserve what thou hast heard
  Against thyself," that Sage commanded me,
  "And now attend here;" and he raised his finger.
"When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet
  Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold,
  From her thou'lt know the journey of thy life."
Unto the left hand then he turned his feet;
  We left the wall, and went towards the middle,
  Along a path that strikes into a valley,
Which even up there unpleasant made its stench.
Inferno: Canto XI
Upon the margin of a lofty bank
  Which great rocks broken in a circle made,
  We came upon a still more cruel throng;
And there, by reason of the horrible
  Excess of stench the deep abyss throws out,
  We drew ourselves aside behind the cover
Of a great tomb, whereon I saw a writing,
  Which said: "Pope Anastasius I hold,
  Whom out of the right way Photinus drew."
"Slow it behoveth our descent to be,
  So that the sense be first a little used
  To the sad blast, and then we shall not heed it."
The Master thus; and unto him I said,
  "Some compensation find, that the time pass not
  Idly;" and he: "Thou seest I think of that.
My son, upon the inside of these rocks,"
  Began he then to say, "are three small circles,
  From grade to grade, like those which thou art leaving.
They all are full of spirits maledict;
  But that hereafter sight alone suffice thee,
  Hear how and wherefore they are in constraint.
Of every malice that wins hate in Heaven,
  Injury is the end; and all such end
  Either by force or fraud afflicteth others.
But because fraud is man's peculiar vice,
  More it displeases God; and so stand lowest
  The fraudulent, and greater dole assails them.
All the first circle of the Violent is;
  But since force may be used against three persons,
  In three rounds 'tis divided and constructed.
To God, to ourselves, and to our neighbour can we
  Use force; I say on them and on their things,
  As thou shalt hear with reason manifest.
A death by violence, and painful wounds,
  Are to our neighbour given; and in his substance
  Ruin, and arson, and injurious levies;
Whence homicides, and he who smites unjustly,
  Marauders, and freebooters, the first round
  Tormenteth all in companies diverse.
Man may lay violent hands upon himself
  And his own goods; and therefore in the second
  Round must perforce without avail repent
Whoever of your world deprives himself,
  Who games, and dissipates his property,
  And weepeth there, where he should jocund be.
Violence can be done the Deity,
  In heart denying and blaspheming Him,
  And by disdaining Nature and her bounty.
And for this reason doth the smallest round
  Seal with its signet Sodom and Cahors,
  And who, disdaining God, speaks from the heart.
Fraud, wherewithal is every conscience stung,
  A man may practise upon him who trusts,
  And him who doth no confidence imburse.
This latter mode, it would appear, dissevers
  Only the bond of love which Nature makes;
  Wherefore within the second circle nestle
Hypocrisy, flattery, and who deals in magic,
  Falsification, theft, and simony,
  Panders, and barrators, and the like filth.
By the other mode, forgotten is that love
  Which Nature makes, and what is after added,
  From which there is a special faith engendered.
Hence in the smallest circle, where the point is
  Of the Universe, upon which Dis is seated,
  Whoe'er betrays for ever is consumed."
And I: "My Master, clear enough proceeds
  Thy reasoning, and full well distinguishes
  This cavern and the people who possess it.
But tell me, those within the fat lagoon,
  Whom the wind drives, and whom the rain doth beat,
  And who encounter with such bitter tongues,
Wherefore are they inside of the red city
  Not punished, if God has them in his wrath,
  And if he has not, wherefore in such fashion?"
And unto me he said: "Why wanders so
  Thine intellect from that which it is wont?
  Or, sooth, thy mind where is it elsewhere looking?
Hast thou no recollection of those words
  With which thine Ethics thoroughly discusses
  The dispositions three, that Heaven abides not,--
Incontinence, and Malice, and insane
  Bestiality? and how Incontinence
  Less God offendeth, and less blame attracts?
If thou regardest this conclusion well,
  And to thy mind recallest who they are
  That up outside are undergoing penance,
Clearly wilt thou perceive why from these felons
  They separated are, and why less wroth
  Justice divine doth smite them with its hammer."
"O Sun, that healest all distempered vision,
  Thou dost content me so, when thou resolvest,
  That doubting pleases me no less than knowing!
Once more a little backward turn thee," said I,
  "There where thou sayest that usury offends
  Goodness divine, and disengage the knot."
"Philosophy," he said, "to him who heeds it,
  Noteth, not only in one place alone,
  After what manner Nature takes her course
From Intellect Divine, and from its art;
  And if thy Physics carefully thou notest,
  After not many pages shalt thou find,
That this your art as far as possible
  Follows, as the disciple doth the master;
  So that your art is, as it were, God's grandchild.
From these two, if thou bringest to thy mind
  Genesis at the beginning, it behoves
  Mankind to gain their life and to advance;
And since the usurer takes another way,
  Nature herself and in her follower
  Disdains he, for elsewhere he puts his hope.
But follow, now, as I would fain go on,
  For quivering are the Fishes on the horizon,
  And the Wain wholly over Caurus lies,
And far beyond there we descend the crag."
Inferno: Canto XII
The place where to descend the bank we came
  Was alpine, and from what was there, moreover,
  Of such a kind that every eye would shun it.
Such as that ruin is which in the flank
  Smote, on this side of Trent, the Adige,
  Either by earthquake or by failing stay,
For from the mountain's top, from which it moved,
  Unto the plain the cliff is shattered so,
  Some path 'twould give to him who was above;
Even such was the descent of that ravine,
  And on the border of the broken chasm
  The infamy of Crete was stretched along,
Who was conceived in the fictitious cow;
  And when he us beheld, he bit himself,
  Even as one whom anger racks within.
My Sage towards him shouted: "Peradventure
  Thou think'st that here may be the Duke of Athens,
  Who in the world above brought death to thee?
Get thee gone, beast, for this one cometh not
  Instructed by thy sister, but he comes
  In order to behold your punishments."
As is that bull who breaks loose at the moment
  In which he has received the mortal blow,
  Who cannot walk, but staggers here and there,
The Minotaur beheld I do the like;
  And he, the wary, cried: "Run to the passage;
  While he wroth, 'tis well thou shouldst descend."
Thus down we took our way o'er that discharge
  Of stones, which oftentimes did move themselves
  Beneath my feet, from the unwonted burden.
Thoughtful I went; and he said: "Thou art thinking
  Perhaps upon this ruin, which is guarded
  By that brute anger which just now I quenched.
Now will I have thee know, the other time
  I here descended to the nether Hell,
  This precipice had not yet fallen down.
But truly, if I well discern, a little
  Before His coming who the mighty spoil
  Bore off from Dis, in the supernal circle,
Upon all sides the deep and loathsome valley
  Trembled so, that I thought the Universe
  Was thrilled with love, by which there are who think
The world ofttimes converted into chaos;
  And at that moment this primeval crag
  Both here and elsewhere made such overthrow.
But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near
  The river of blood, within which boiling is
  Whoe'er by violence doth injure others."
O blind cupidity, O wrath insane,
  That spurs us onward so in our short life,
  And in the eternal then so badly steeps us!
I saw an ample moat bent like a bow,
  As one which all the plain encompasses,
  Conformable to what my Guide had said.
And between this and the embankment's foot
  Centaurs in file were running, armed with arrows,
  As in the world they used the chase to follow.
Beholding us descend, each one stood still,
  And from the squadron three detached themselves,
  With bows and arrows in advance selected;
And from afar one cried: "Unto what torment
  Come ye, who down the hillside are descending?
  Tell us from there; if not, I draw the bow."
My Master said: "Our answer will we make
  To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour,
  That will of thine was evermore so hasty."
Then touched he me, and said: "This one is Nessus,
  Who perished for the lovely Dejanira,
  And for himself, himself did vengeance take.
And he in the midst, who at his breast is gazing,
  Is the great Chiron, who brought up Achilles;
  That other Pholus is, who was so wrathful.
Thousands and thousands go about the moat
  Shooting with shafts whatever soul emerges
  Out of the blood, more than his crime allots."
Near we approached unto those monsters fleet;
  Chiron an arrow took, and with the notch
  Backward upon his jaws he put his beard.
After he had uncovered his great mouth,
  He said to his companions: "Are you ware
  That he behind moveth whate'er he touches?
Thus are not wont to do the feet of dead men."
  And my good Guide, who now was at his breast,
  Where the two natures are together joined,
Replied: "Indeed he lives, and thus alone
  Me it behoves to show him the dark valley;
  Necessity, and not delight, impels us.
Some one withdrew from singing Halleluja,
  Who unto me committed this new office;
  No thief is he, nor I a thievish spirit.
But by that virtue through which I am moving
  My steps along this savage thoroughfare,
  Give us some one of thine, to be with us,
And who may show us where to pass the ford,
  And who may carry this one on his back;
  For 'tis no spirit that can walk the air."
Upon his right breast Chiron wheeled about,
  And said to Nessus: "Turn and do thou guide them,
  And warn aside, if other band may meet you."
We with our faithful escort onward moved
  Along the brink of the vermilion boiling,
  Wherein the boiled were uttering loud laments.
People I saw within up to the eyebrows,
  And the great Centaur said: "Tyrants are these,
  Who dealt in bloodshed and in pillaging.
Here they lament their pitiless mischiefs; here
  Is Alexander, and fierce Dionysius
  Who upon Sicily brought dolorous years.
That forehead there which has the hair so black
  Is Azzolin; and the other who is blond,
  Obizzo is of Esti, who, in truth,
Up in the world was by his stepson slain."
  Then turned I to the Poet; and he said,
  "Now he be first to thee, and second I."
A little farther on the Centaur stopped
  Above a folk, who far down as the throat
  Seemed from that boiling stream to issue forth.
A shade he showed us on one side alone,
  Saying: "He cleft asunder in God's bosom
  The heart that still upon the Thames is honoured."
Then people saw I, who from out the river
  Lifted their heads and also all the chest;
  And many among these I recognised.
Thus ever more and more grew shallower
  That blood, so that the feet alone it covered;
  And there across the moat our passage was.
"Even as thou here upon this side beholdest
  The boiling stream, that aye diminishes,"
  The Centaur said, "I wish thee to believe
That on this other more and more declines
  Its bed, until it reunites itself
  Where it behoveth tyranny to groan.
Justice divine, upon this side, is goading
  That Attila, who was a scourge on earth,
  And Pyrrhus, and Sextus; and for ever milks
The tears which with the boiling it unseals
  In Rinier da Corneto and Rinier Pazzo,
  Who made upon the highways so much war."
Then back he turned, and passed again the ford.
Inferno: Canto XIII
Not yet had Nessus reached the other side,
  When we had put ourselves within a wood,
  That was not marked by any path whatever.
Not foliage green, but of a dusky colour,
  Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled,
  Not apple-trees were there, but thorns with poison.
Such tangled thickets have not, nor so dense,
  Those savage wild beasts, that in hatred hold
  'Twixt Cecina and Corneto the tilled places.
There do the hideous Harpies make their nests,
  Who chased the Trojans from the Strophades,
  With sad announcement of impending doom;
Broad wings have they, and necks and faces human,
  And feet with claws, and their great bellies fledged;
  They make laments upon the wondrous trees.
And the good Master: "Ere thou enter farther,
  Know that thou art within the second round,"
  Thus he began to say, "and shalt be, till
Thou comest out upon the horrible sand;
  Therefore look well around, and thou shalt see
  Things that will credence give unto my speech."
I heard on all sides lamentations uttered,
  And person none beheld I who might make them,
  Whence, utterly bewildered, I stood still.
I think he thought that I perhaps might think
  So many voices issued through those trunks
  From people who concealed themselves from us;
Therefore the Master said: "If thou break off
  Some little spray from any of these trees,
  The thoughts thou hast will wholly be made vain."
Then stretched I forth my hand a little forward,
  And plucked a branchlet off from a great thorn;
  And the trunk cried, "Why dost thou mangle me?"
After it had become embrowned with blood,
  It recommenced its cry: "Why dost thou rend me?
  Hast thou no spirit of pity whatsoever?
Men once we were, and now are changed to trees;
  Indeed, thy hand should be more pitiful,
  Even if the souls of serpents we had been."
As out of a green brand, that is on fire
  At one of the ends, and from the other drips
  And hisses with the wind that is escaping;
So from that splinter issued forth together
  Both words and blood; whereat I let the tip
  Fall, and stood like a man who is afraid.
"Had he been able sooner to believe,"
  My Sage made answer, "O thou wounded soul,
  What only in my verses he has seen,
Not upon thee had he stretched forth his hand;
  Whereas the thing incredible has caused me
  To put him to an act which grieveth me.
But tell him who thou wast, so that by way
  Of some amends thy fame he may refresh
  Up in the world, to which he can return."
And the trunk said: "So thy sweet words allure me,
  I cannot silent be; and you be vexed not,
  That I a little to discourse am tempted.
I am the one who both keys had in keeping
  Of Frederick's heart, and turned them to and fro
  So softly in unlocking and in locking,
That from his secrets most men I withheld;
  Fidelity I bore the glorious office
  So great, I lost thereby my sleep and pulses.
The courtesan who never from the dwelling
  Of Caesar turned aside her strumpet eyes,
  Death universal and the vice of courts,
Inflamed against me all the other minds,
  And they, inflamed, did so inflame Augustus,
  That my glad honours turned to dismal mournings.
My spirit, in disdainful exultation,
  Thinking by dying to escape disdain,
  Made me unjust against myself, the just.
I, by the roots unwonted of this wood,
  Do swear to you that never broke I faith
  Unto my lord, who was so worthy of honour;
And to the world if one of you return,
  Let him my memory comfort, which is lying
  Still prostrate from the blow that envy dealt it."
Waited awhile, and then: "Since he is silent,"
  The Poet said to me, "lose not the time,
  But speak, and question him, if more may please thee."
Whence I to him: "Do thou again inquire
  Concerning what thou thinks't will satisfy me;
  For I cannot, such pity is in my heart."
Therefore he recommenced: "So may the man
  Do for thee freely what thy speech implores,
  Spirit incarcerate, again be pleased
To tell us in what way the soul is bound
  Within these knots; and tell us, if thou canst,
  If any from such members e'er is freed."
Then blew the trunk amain, and afterward
  The wind was into such a voice converted:
  "With brevity shall be replied to you.
When the exasperated soul abandons
  The body whence it rent itself away,
  Minos consigns it to the seventh abyss.
It falls into the forest, and no part
  Is chosen for it; but where Fortune hurls it,
  There like a grain of spelt it germinates.
It springs a sapling, and a forest tree;
  The Harpies, feeding then upon its leaves,
  Do pain create, and for the pain an outlet.
Like others for our spoils shall we return;
  But not that any one may them revest,
  For 'tis not just to have what one casts off.
Here we shall drag them, and along the dismal
  Forest our bodies shall suspended be,
  Each to the thorn of his molested shade."
We were attentive still unto the trunk,
  Thinking that more it yet might wish to tell us,
  When by a tumult we were overtaken,
In the same way as he is who perceives
  The boar and chase approaching to his stand,
  Who hears the crashing of the beasts and branches;
And two behold! upon our left-hand side,
  Naked and scratched, fleeing so furiously,
  That of the forest, every fan they broke.
He who was in advance: "Now help, Death, help!"
  And the other one, who seemed to lag too much,
  Was shouting: "Lano, were not so alert
Those legs of thine at joustings of the Toppo!"
  And then, perchance because his breath was failing,
  He grouped himself together with a bush.
Behind them was the forest full of black
  She-mastiffs, ravenous, and swift of foot
  As greyhounds, who are issuing from the chain.
On him who had crouched down they set their teeth,
  And him they lacerated piece by piece,
  Thereafter bore away those aching members.
Thereat my Escort took me by the hand,
  And led me to the bush, that all in vain
  Was weeping from its bloody lacerations.
"O Jacopo," it said, "of Sant' Andrea,
  What helped it thee of me to make a screen?
  What blame have I in thy nefarious life?"
When near him had the Master stayed his steps,
  He said: "Who wast thou, that through wounds so many
  Art blowing out with blood thy dolorous speech?"
And he to us: "O souls, that hither come
  To look upon the shameful massacre
  That has so rent away from me my leaves,
Gather them up beneath the dismal bush;
  I of that city was which to the Baptist
  Changed its first patron, wherefore he for this
Forever with his art will make it sad.
  And were it not that on the pass of Arno
  Some glimpses of him are remaining still,
Those citizens, who afterwards rebuilt it
  Upon the ashes left by Attila,
  In vain had caused their labour to be done.
Of my own house I made myself a gibbet."
Inferno: Canto XIV
Because the charity of my native place
  Constrained me, gathered I the scattered leaves,
  And gave them back to him, who now was hoarse.
Then came we to the confine, where disparted
  The second round is from the third, and where
  A horrible form of Justice is beheld.
Clearly to manifest these novel things,
  I say that we arrived upon a plain,
  Which from its bed rejecteth every plant;
The dolorous forest is a garland to it
  All round about, as the sad moat to that;
  There close upon the edge we stayed our feet.
The soil was of an arid and thick sand,
  Not of another fashion made than that
  Which by the feet of Cato once was pressed.
Vengeance of God, O how much oughtest thou
  By each one to be dreaded, who doth read
  That which was manifest unto mine eyes!
Of naked souls beheld I many herds,
  Who all were weeping very miserably,
  And over them seemed set a law diverse.
Supine upon the ground some folk were lying;
  And some were sitting all drawn up together,
  And others went about continually.
Those who were going round were far the more,
  And those were less who lay down to their torment,
  But had their tongues more loosed to lamentation.
O'er all the sand-waste, with a gradual fall,
  Were raining down dilated flakes of fire,
  As of the snow on Alp without a wind.
As Alexander, in those torrid parts
  Of India, beheld upon his host
  Flames fall unbroken till they reached the ground.
Whence he provided with his phalanxes
  To trample down the soil, because the vapour
  Better extinguished was while it was single;
Thus was descending the eternal heat,
  Whereby the sand was set on fire, like tinder
  Beneath the steel, for doubling of the dole.
Without repose forever was the dance
  Of miserable hands, now there, now here,
  Shaking away from off them the fresh gleeds.
"Master," began I, "thou who overcomest
  All things except the demons dire, that issued
  Against us at the entrance of the gate,
Who is that mighty one who seems to heed not
  The fire, and lieth lowering and disdainful,
  So that the rain seems not to ripen him?"
And he himself, who had become aware
  That I was questioning my Guide about him,
  Cried: "Such as I was living, am I, dead.
If Jove should weary out his smith, from whom
  He seized in anger the sharp thunderbolt,
  Wherewith upon the last day I was smitten,
And if he wearied out by turns the others
  In Mongibello at the swarthy forge,
  Vociferating, 'Help, good Vulcan, help!'
Even as he did there at the fight of Phlegra,
  And shot his bolts at me with all his might,
  He would not have thereby a joyous vengeance."
Then did my Leader speak with such great force,
  That I had never heard him speak so loud:
  "O Capaneus, in that is not extinguished
Thine arrogance, thou punished art the more;
  Not any torment, saving thine own rage,
  Would be unto thy fury pain complete."
Then he turned round to me with better lip,
  Saying: "One of the Seven Kings was he
  Who Thebes besieged, and held, and seems to hold
God in disdain, and little seems to prize him;
  But, as I said to him, his own despites
  Are for his breast the fittest ornaments.
Now follow me, and mind thou do not place
  As yet thy feet upon the burning sand,
  But always keep them close unto the wood."
Speaking no word, we came to where there gushes
  Forth from the wood a little rivulet,
  Whose redness makes my hair still stand on end.
As from the Bulicame springs the brooklet,
  The sinful women later share among them,
  So downward through the sand it went its way.
The bottom of it, and both sloping banks,
  Were made of stone, and the margins at the side;
  Whence I perceived that there the passage was.
"In all the rest which I have shown to thee
  Since we have entered in within the gate
  Whose threshold unto no one is denied,
Nothing has been discovered by thine eyes
  So notable as is the present river,
  Which all the little flames above it quenches."
These words were of my Leader; whence I prayed him
  That he would give me largess of the food,
  For which he had given me largess of desire.
"In the mid-sea there sits a wasted land,"
  Said he thereafterward, "whose name is Crete,
  Under whose king the world of old was chaste.
There is a mountain there, that once was glad
  With waters and with leaves, which was called Ida;
  Now 'tis deserted, as a thing worn out.
Rhea once chose it for the faithful cradle
  Of her own son; and to conceal him better,
  Whene'er he cried, she there had clamours made.
A grand old man stands in the mount erect,
  Who holds his shoulders turned tow'rds Damietta,
  And looks at Rome as if it were his mirror.
His head is fashioned of refined gold,
  And of pure silver are the arms and breast;
  Then he is brass as far down as the fork.
From that point downward all is chosen iron,
  Save that the right foot is of kiln-baked clay,
  And more he stands on that than on the other.
Each part, except the gold, is by a fissure
  Asunder cleft, that dripping is with tears,
  Which gathered together perforate that cavern.
From rock to rock they fall into this valley;
  Acheron, Styx, and Phlegethon they form;
  Then downward go along this narrow sluice
Unto that point where is no more descending.
  They form Cocytus; what that pool may be
  Thou shalt behold, so here 'tis not narrated."
And I to him: "If so the present runnel
  Doth take its rise in this way from our world,
  Why only on this verge appears it to us?"
And he to me: "Thou knowest the place is round,
  And notwithstanding thou hast journeyed far,
  Still to the left descending to the bottom,
Thou hast not yet through all the circle turned.
  Therefore if something new appear to us,
  It should not bring amazement to thy face."
And I again: "Master, where shall be found
  Lethe and Phlegethon, for of one thou'rt silent,
  And sayest the other of this rain is made?"
"In all thy questions truly thou dost please me,"
  Replied he; "but the boiling of the red
  Water might well solve one of them thou makest.
Thou shalt see Lethe, but outside this moat,
  There where the souls repair to lave themselves,
  When sin repented of has been removed."
Then said he: "It is time now to abandon
  The wood; take heed that thou come after me;
  A way the margins make that are not burning,
And over them all vapours are extinguished."
Inferno: Canto XV
Now bears us onward one of the hard margins,
  And so the brooklet's mist o'ershadows it,
  From fire it saves the water and the dikes.
Even as the Flemings, 'twixt Cadsand and Bruges,
  Fearing the flood that tow'rds them hurls itself,
  Their bulwarks build to put the sea to flight;
And as the Paduans along the Brenta,
  To guard their villas and their villages,
  Or ever Chiarentana feel the heat;
In such similitude had those been made,
  Albeit not so lofty nor so thick,
  Whoever he might be, the master made them.
Now were we from the forest so remote,
  I could not have discovered where it was,
  Even if backward I had turned myself,
When we a company of souls encountered,
  Who came beside the dike, and every one
  Gazed at us, as at evening we are wont
To eye each other under a new moon,
  And so towards us sharpened they their brows
  As an old tailor at the needle's eye.
Thus scrutinised by such a family,
  By some one I was recognised, who seized
  My garment's hem, and cried out, "What a marvel!"
And I, when he stretched forth his arm to me,
  On his baked aspect fastened so mine eyes,
  That the scorched countenance prevented not
His recognition by my intellect;
  And bowing down my face unto his own,
  I made reply, "Are you here, Ser Brunetto?"
And he: "May't not displease thee, O my son,
  If a brief space with thee Brunetto Latini
  Backward return and let the trail go on."
I said to him: "With all my power I ask it;
  And if you wish me to sit down with you,
  I will, if he please, for I go with him."
"O son," he said, "whoever of this herd
  A moment stops, lies then a hundred years,
  Nor fans himself when smiteth him the fire.
Therefore go on; I at thy skirts will come,
  And afterward will I rejoin my band,
  Which goes lamenting its eternal doom."
I did not dare to go down from the road
  Level to walk with him; but my head bowed
  I held as one who goeth reverently.
And he began: "What fortune or what fate
  Before the last day leadeth thee down here?
  And who is this that showeth thee the way?"
"Up there above us in the life serene,"
  I answered him, "I lost me in a valley,
  Or ever yet my age had been completed.
But yestermorn I turned my back upon it;
  This one appeared to me, returning thither,
  And homeward leadeth me along this road."
And he to me: "If thou thy star do follow,
  Thou canst not fail thee of a glorious port,
  If well I judged in the life beautiful.
And if I had not died so prematurely,
  Seeing Heaven thus benignant unto thee,
  I would have given thee comfort in the work.
But that ungrateful and malignant people,
  Which of old time from Fesole descended,
  And smacks still of the mountain and the granite,
Will make itself, for thy good deeds, thy foe;
  And it is right; for among crabbed sorbs
  It ill befits the sweet fig to bear fruit.
Old rumour in the world proclaims them blind;
  A people avaricious, envious, proud;
  Take heed that of their customs thou do cleanse thee.
Thy fortune so much honour doth reserve thee,
  One party and the other shall be hungry
  For thee; but far from goat shall be the grass.
Their litter let the beasts of Fesole
  Make of themselves, nor let them touch the plant,
  If any still upon their dunghill rise,
In which may yet revive the consecrated
  Seed of those Romans, who remained there when
  The nest of such great malice it became."
"If my entreaty wholly were fulfilled,"
  Replied I to him, "not yet would you be
  In banishment from human nature placed;
For in my mind is fixed, and touches now
  My heart the dear and good paternal image
  Of you, when in the world from hour to hour
You taught me how a man becomes eternal;
  And how much I am grateful, while I live
  Behoves that in my language be discerned.
What you narrate of my career I write,
  And keep it to be glossed with other text
  By a Lady who can do it, if I reach her.
This much will I have manifest to you;
  Provided that my conscience do not chide me,
  For whatsoever Fortune I am ready.
Such handsel is not new unto mine ears;
  Therefore let Fortune turn her wheel around
  As it may please her, and the churl his mattock."
My Master thereupon on his right cheek
  Did backward turn himself, and looked at me;
  Then said: "He listeneth well who noteth it."
Nor speaking less on that account, I go
  With Ser Brunetto, and I ask who are
  His most known and most eminent companions.
And he to me: "To know of some is well;
  Of others it were laudable to be silent,
  For short would be the time for so much speech.
Know them in sum, that all of them were clerks,
  And men of letters great and of great fame,
  In the world tainted with the selfsame sin.
Priscian goes yonder with that wretched crowd,
  And Francis of Accorso; and thou hadst seen there
  If thou hadst had a hankering for such scurf,
That one, who by the Servant of the Servants
  From Arno was transferred to Bacchiglione,
  Where he has left his sin-excited nerves.
More would I say, but coming and discoursing
  Can be no longer; for that I behold
  New smoke uprising yonder from the sand.
A people comes with whom I may not be;
  Commended unto thee be my Tesoro,
  In which I still live, and no more I ask."
Then he turned round, and seemed to be of those
  Who at Verona run for the Green Mantle
  Across the plain; and seemed to be among them
The one who wins, and not the one who loses.
Inferno: Canto XVI
Now was I where was heard the reverberation
  Of water falling into the next round,
  Like to that humming which the beehives make,
When shadows three together started forth,
  Running, from out a company that passed
  Beneath the rain of the sharp martyrdom.
Towards us came they, and each one cried out:
  "Stop, thou; for by thy garb to us thou seemest
  To be some one of our depraved city."
Ah me! what wounds I saw upon their limbs,
  Recent and ancient by the flames burnt in!
  It pains me still but to remember it.
Unto their cries my Teacher paused attentive;
  He turned his face towards me, and "Now wait,"
  He said; "to these we should be courteous.
And if it were not for the fire that darts
  The nature of this region, I should say
  That haste were more becoming thee than them."
As soon as we stood still, they recommenced
  The old refrain, and when they overtook us,
  Formed of themselves a wheel, all three of them.
As champions stripped and oiled are wont to do,
  Watching for their advantage and their hold,
  Before they come to blows and thrusts between them,
Thus, wheeling round, did every one his visage
  Direct to me, so that in opposite wise
  His neck and feet continual journey made.
And, "If the misery of this soft place
  Bring in disdain ourselves and our entreaties,"
  Began one, "and our aspect black and blistered,
Let the renown of us thy mind incline
  To tell us who thou art, who thus securely
  Thy living feet dost move along through Hell.
He in whose footprints thou dost see me treading,
  Naked and skinless though he now may go,
  Was of a greater rank than thou dost think;
He was the grandson of the good Gualdrada;
  His name was Guidoguerra, and in life
  Much did he with his wisdom and his sword.
The other, who close by me treads the sand,
  Tegghiaio Aldobrandi is, whose fame
  Above there in the world should welcome be.
And I, who with them on the cross am placed,
  Jacopo Rusticucci was; and truly
  My savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me."
Could I have been protected from the fire,
  Below I should have thrown myself among them,
  And think the Teacher would have suffered it;
But as I should have burned and baked myself,
  My terror overmastered my good will,
  Which made me greedy of embracing them.
Then I began: "Sorrow and not disdain
  Did your condition fix within me so,
  That tardily it wholly is stripped off,
As soon as this my Lord said unto me
  Words, on account of which I thought within me
  That people such as you are were approaching.
I of your city am; and evermore
  Your labours and your honourable names
  I with affection have retraced and heard.
I leave the gall, and go for the sweet fruits
  Promised to me by the veracious Leader;
  But to the centre first I needs must plunge."
"So may the soul for a long while conduct
  Those limbs of thine," did he make answer then,
  "And so may thy renown shine after thee,
Valour and courtesy, say if they dwell
  Within our city, as they used to do,
  Or if they wholly have gone out of it;
For Guglielmo Borsier, who is in torment
  With us of late, and goes there with his comrades,
  Doth greatly mortify us with his words."
"The new inhabitants and the sudden gains,
  Pride and extravagance have in thee engendered,
  Florence, so that thou weep'st thereat already!"
In this wise I exclaimed with face uplifted;
  And the three, taking that for my reply,
  Looked at each other, as one looks at truth.
"If other times so little it doth cost thee,"
  Replied they all, "to satisfy another,
  Happy art thou, thus speaking at thy will!
Therefore, if thou escape from these dark places,
  And come to rebehold the beauteous stars,
  When it shall pleasure thee to say, 'I was,'
See that thou speak of us unto the people."
  Then they broke up the wheel, and in their flight
  It seemed as if their agile legs were wings.
Not an Amen could possibly be said
  So rapidly as they had disappeared;
  Wherefore the Master deemed best to depart.
I followed him, and little had we gone,
  Before the sound of water was so near us,
  That speaking we should hardly have been heard.
Even as that stream which holdeth its own course
  The first from Monte Veso tow'rds the East,
  Upon the left-hand slope of Apennine,
Which is above called Acquacheta, ere
  It down descendeth into its low bed,
  And at Forli is vacant of that name,
Reverberates there above San Benedetto
  From Alps, by falling at a single leap,
  Where for a thousand there were room enough;
Thus downward from a bank precipitate,
  We found resounding that dark-tinted water,
  So that it soon the ear would have offended.
I had a cord around about me girt,
  And therewithal I whilom had designed
  To take the panther with the painted skin.
After I this had all from me unloosed,
  As my Conductor had commanded me,
  I reached it to him, gathered up and coiled,
Whereat he turned himself to the right side,
  And at a little distance from the verge,
  He cast it down into that deep abyss.
"It must needs be some novelty respond,"
  I said within myself, "to the new signal
  The Master with his eye is following so."
Ah me! how very cautious men should be
  With those who not alone behold the act,
  But with their wisdom look into the thoughts!
He said to me: "Soon there will upward come
  What I await; and what thy thought is dreaming
  Must soon reveal itself unto thy sight."
Aye to that truth which has the face of falsehood,
  A man should close his lips as far as may be,
  Because without his fault it causes shame;
But here I cannot; and, Reader, by the notes
  Of this my Comedy to thee I swear,
  So may they not be void of lasting favour,
Athwart that dense and darksome atmosphere
  I saw a figure swimming upward come,
  Marvellous unto every steadfast heart,
Even as he returns who goeth down
  Sometimes to clear an anchor, which has grappled
  Reef, or aught else that in the sea is hidden,
Who upward stretches, and draws in his feet.
Inferno: Canto XVII
"Behold the monster with the pointed tail,
  Who cleaves the hills, and breaketh walls and weapons,
  Behold him who infecteth all the world."
Thus unto me my Guide began to say,
  And beckoned him that he should come to shore,
  Near to the confine of the trodden marble;
And that uncleanly image of deceit
  Came up and thrust ashore its head and bust,
  But on the border did not drag its tail.
The face was as the face of a just man,
  Its semblance outwardly was so benign,
  And of a serpent all the trunk beside.
Two paws it had, hairy unto the armpits;
  The back, and breast, and both the sides it had
  Depicted o'er with nooses and with shields.
With colours more, groundwork or broidery
  Never in cloth did Tartars make nor Turks,
  Nor were such tissues by Arachne laid.
As sometimes wherries lie upon the shore,
  That part are in the water, part on land;
  And as among the guzzling Germans there,
The beaver plants himself to wage his war;
  So that vile monster lay upon the border,
  Which is of stone, and shutteth in the sand.
His tail was wholly quivering in the void,
  Contorting upwards the envenomed fork,
  That in the guise of scorpion armed its point.
The Guide said: "Now perforce must turn aside
  Our way a little, even to that beast
  Malevolent, that yonder coucheth him."
We therefore on the right side descended,
  And made ten steps upon the outer verge,
  Completely to avoid the sand and flame;
And after we are come to him, I see
  A little farther off upon the sand
  A people sitting near the hollow place.
Then said to me the Master: "So that full
  Experience of this round thou bear away,
  Now go and see what their condition is.
There let thy conversation be concise;
  Till thou returnest I will speak with him,
  That he concede to us his stalwart shoulders."
Thus farther still upon the outermost
  Head of that seventh circle all alone
  I went, where sat the melancholy folk.
Out of their eyes was gushing forth their woe;
  This way, that way, they helped them with their hands
  Now from the flames and now from the hot soil.
Not otherwise in summer do the dogs,
  Now with the foot, now with the muzzle, when
  By fleas, or flies, or gadflies, they are bitten.
When I had turned mine eyes upon the faces
  Of some, on whom the dolorous fire is falling,
  Not one of them I knew; but I perceived
That from the neck of each there hung a pouch,
  Which certain colour had, and certain blazon;
  And thereupon it seems their eyes are feeding.
And as I gazing round me come among them,
  Upon a yellow pouch I azure saw
  That had the face and posture of a lion.
Proceeding then the current of my sight,
  Another of them saw I, red as blood,
  Display a goose more white than butter is.
And one, who with an azure sow and gravid
  Emblazoned had his little pouch of white,
  Said unto me: "What dost thou in this moat?
Now get thee gone; and since thou'rt still alive,
  Know that a neighbour of mine, Vitaliano,
  Will have his seat here on my left-hand side.
A Paduan am I with these Florentines;
  Full many a time they thunder in mine ears,
  Exclaiming, 'Come the sovereign cavalier,
He who shall bring the satchel with three goats;'"
  Then twisted he his mouth, and forth he thrust
  His tongue, like to an ox that licks its nose.
And fearing lest my longer stay might vex
  Him who had warned me not to tarry long,
  Backward I turned me from those weary souls.
I found my Guide, who had already mounted
  Upon the back of that wild animal,
  And said to me: "Now be both strong and bold.
Now we descend by stairways such as these;
  Mount thou in front, for I will be midway,
  So that the tail may have no power to harm thee."
Such as he is who has so near the ague
  Of quartan that his nails are blue already,
  And trembles all, but looking at the shade;
Even such became I at those proffered words;
  But shame in me his menaces produced,
  Which maketh servant strong before good master.
I seated me upon those monstrous shoulders;
  I wished to say, and yet the voice came not
  As I believed, "Take heed that thou embrace me."
But he, who other times had rescued me
  In other peril, soon as I had mounted,
  Within his arms encircled and sustained me,
And said: "Now, Geryon, bestir thyself;
  The circles large, and the descent be little;
  Think of the novel burden which thou hast."
Even as the little vessel shoves from shore,
  Backward, still backward, so he thence withdrew;
  And when he wholly felt himself afloat,
There where his breast had been he turned his tail,
  And that extended like an eel he moved,
  And with his paws drew to himself the air.
A greater fear I do not think there was
  What time abandoned Phaeton the reins,
  Whereby the heavens, as still appears, were scorched;
Nor when the wretched Icarus his flanks
  Felt stripped of feathers by the melting wax,
  His father crying, "An ill way thou takest!"
Than was my own, when I perceived myself
  On all sides in the air, and saw extinguished
  The sight of everything but of the monster.
Onward he goeth, swimming slowly, slowly;
  Wheels and descends, but I perceive it only
  By wind upon my face and from below.
I heard already on the right the whirlpool
  Making a horrible crashing under us;
  Whence I thrust out my head with eyes cast downward.
Then was I still more fearful of the abyss;
  Because I fires beheld, and heard laments,
  Whereat I, trembling, all the closer cling.
I saw then, for before I had not seen it,
  The turning and descending, by great horrors
  That were approaching upon divers sides.
As falcon who has long been on the wing,
  Who, without seeing either lure or bird,
  Maketh the falconer say, "Ah me, thou stoopest,"
Descendeth weary, whence he started swiftly,
  Thorough a hundred circles, and alights
  Far from his master, sullen and disdainful;
Even thus did Geryon place us on the bottom,
  Close to the bases of the rough-hewn rock,
  And being disencumbered of our persons,
He sped away as arrow from the string.
Inferno: Canto XVIII
There is a place in Hell called Malebolge,
  Wholly of stone and of an iron colour,
  As is the circle that around it turns.
Right in the middle of the field malign
  There yawns a well exceeding wide and deep,
  Of which its place the structure will recount.
Round, then, is that enclosure which remains
  Between the well and foot of the high, hard bank,
  And has distinct in valleys ten its bottom.
As where for the protection of the walls
  Many and many moats surround the castles,
  The part in which they are a figure forms,
Just such an image those presented there;
  And as about such strongholds from their gates
  Unto the outer bank are little bridges,
So from the precipice's base did crags
  Project, which intersected dikes and moats,
  Unto the well that truncates and collects them.
Within this place, down shaken from the back
  Of Geryon, we found us; and the Poet
  Held to the left, and I moved on behind.
Upon my right hand I beheld new anguish,
  New torments, and new wielders of the lash,
  Wherewith the foremost Bolgia was replete.
Down at the bottom were the sinners naked;
  This side the middle came they facing us,
  Beyond it, with us, but with greater steps;
Even as the Romans, for the mighty host,
  The year of Jubilee, upon the bridge,
  Have chosen a mode to pass the people over;
For all upon one side towards the Castle
  Their faces have, and go unto St. Peter's;
  On the other side they go towards the Mountain.
This side and that, along the livid stone
  Beheld I horned demons with great scourges,
  Who cruelly were beating them behind.
Ah me! how they did make them lift their legs
  At the first blows! and sooth not any one
  The second waited for, nor for the third.
While I was going on, mine eyes by one
  Encountered were; and straight I said: "Already
  With sight of this one I am not unfed."
Therefore I stayed my feet to make him out,
  And with me the sweet Guide came to a stand,
  And to my going somewhat back assented;
And he, the scourged one, thought to hide himself,
  Lowering his face, but little it availed him;
  For said I: "Thou that castest down thine eyes,
If false are not the features which thou bearest,
  Thou art Venedico Caccianimico;
  But what doth bring thee to such pungent sauces?"
And he to me: "Unwillingly I tell it;
  But forces me thine utterance distinct,
  Which makes me recollect the ancient world.
I was the one who the fair Ghisola
  Induced to grant the wishes of the Marquis,
  Howe'er the shameless story may be told.
Not the sole Bolognese am I who weeps here;
  Nay, rather is this place so full of them,
  That not so many tongues to-day are taught
'Twixt Reno and Savena to say 'sipa;'
  And if thereof thou wishest pledge or proof,
  Bring to thy mind our avaricious heart."
While speaking in this manner, with his scourge
  A demon smote him, and said: "Get thee gone
  Pander, there are no women here for coin."
I joined myself again unto mine Escort;
  Thereafterward with footsteps few we came
  To where a crag projected from the bank.
This very easily did we ascend,
  And turning to the right along its ridge,
  From those eternal circles we departed.
When we were there, where it is hollowed out
  Beneath, to give a passage to the scourged,
  The Guide said: "Wait, and see that on thee strike
The vision of those others evil-born,
  Of whom thou hast not yet beheld the faces,
  Because together with us they have gone."
From the old bridge we looked upon the train
  Which tow'rds us came upon the other border,
  And which the scourges in like manner smite.
And the good Master, without my inquiring,
  Said to me: "See that tall one who is coming,
  And for his pain seems not to shed a tear;
Still what a royal aspect he retains!
  That Jason is, who by his heart and cunning
  The Colchians of the Ram made destitute.
He by the isle of Lemnos passed along
  After the daring women pitiless
  Had unto death devoted all their males.
There with his tokens and with ornate words
  Did he deceive Hypsipyle, the maiden
  Who first, herself, had all the rest deceived.
There did he leave her pregnant and forlorn;
  Such sin unto such punishment condemns him,
  And also for Medea is vengeance done.
With him go those who in such wise deceive;
  And this sufficient be of the first valley
  To know, and those that in its jaws it holds."
We were already where the narrow path
  Crosses athwart the second dike, and forms
  Of that a buttress for another arch.
Thence we heard people, who are making moan
  In the next Bolgia, snorting with their muzzles,
  And with their palms beating upon themselves
The margins were incrusted with a mould
  By exhalation from below, that sticks there,
  And with the eyes and nostrils wages war.
The bottom is so deep, no place suffices
  To give us sight of it, without ascending
  The arch's back, where most the crag impends.
Thither we came, and thence down in the moat
  I saw a people smothered in a filth
  That out of human privies seemed to flow;
And whilst below there with mine eye I search,
  I saw one with his head so foul with ordure,
  It was not clear if he were clerk or layman.
He screamed to me: "Wherefore art thou so eager
  To look at me more than the other foul ones?"
  And I to him: "Because, if I remember,
I have already seen thee with dry hair,
  And thou'rt Alessio Interminei of Lucca;
  Therefore I eye thee more than all the others."
And he thereon, belabouring his pumpkin:
  "The flatteries have submerged me here below,
  Wherewith my tongue was never surfeited."
Then said to me the Guide: "See that thou thrust
  Thy visage somewhat farther in advance,
  That with thine eyes thou well the face attain
Of that uncleanly and dishevelled drab,
  Who there doth scratch herself with filthy nails,
  And crouches now, and now on foot is standing.
Thais the harlot is it, who replied
  Unto her paramour, when he said, 'Have I
  Great gratitude from thee?'--'Nay, marvellous;'
And herewith let our sight be satisfied."
Inferno: Canto XIX
O Simon Magus, O forlorn disciples,
  Ye who the things of God, which ought to be
  The brides of holiness, rapaciously
For silver and for gold do prostitute,
  Now it behoves for you the trumpet sound,
  Because in this third Bolgia ye abide.
We had already on the following tomb
  Ascended to that portion of the crag
  Which o'er the middle of the moat hangs plumb.
Wisdom supreme, O how great art thou showest
  In heaven, in earth, and in the evil world,
  And with what justice doth thy power distribute!
I saw upon the sides and on the bottom
  The livid stone with perforations filled,
  All of one size, and every one was round.
To me less ample seemed they not, nor greater
  Than those that in my beautiful Saint John
  Are fashioned for the place of the baptisers,
And one of which, not many years ago,
  I broke for some one, who was drowning in it;
  Be this a seal all men to undeceive.
Out of the mouth of each one there protruded
  The feet of a transgressor, and the legs
  Up to the calf, the rest within remained.
In all of them the soles were both on fire;
  Wherefore the joints so violently quivered,
  They would have snapped asunder withes and bands.
Even as the flame of unctuous things is wont
  To move upon the outer surface only,
  So likewise was it there from heel to point.
"Master, who is that one who writhes himself,
  More than his other comrades quivering,"
  I said, "and whom a redder flame is sucking?"
And he to me: "If thou wilt have me bear thee
  Down there along that bank which lowest lies,
  From him thou'lt know his errors and himself."
And I: "What pleases thee, to me is pleasing;
  Thou art my Lord, and knowest that I depart not
  From thy desire, and knowest what is not spoken."
Straightway upon the fourth dike we arrived;
  We turned, and on the left-hand side descended
  Down to the bottom full of holes and narrow.
And the good Master yet from off his haunch
  Deposed me not, till to the hole he brought me
  Of him who so lamented with his shanks.
"Whoe'er thou art, that standest upside down,
  O doleful soul, implanted like a stake,"
  To say began I, "if thou canst, speak out."
I stood even as the friar who is confessing
  The false assassin, who, when he is fixed,
  Recalls him, so that death may be delayed.
And he cried out: "Dost thou stand there already,
  Dost thou stand there already, Boniface?
  By many years the record lied to me.
Art thou so early satiate with that wealth,
  For which thou didst not fear to take by fraud
  The beautiful Lady, and then work her woe?"
Such I became, as people are who stand,
  Not comprehending what is answered them,
  As if bemocked, and know not how to answer.
Then said Virgilius: "Say to him straightway,
  'I am not he, I am not he thou thinkest.'"
  And I replied as was imposed on me.
Whereat the spirit writhed with both his feet,
  Then, sighing, with a voice of lamentation
  Said to me: "Then what wantest thou of me?
If who I am thou carest so much to know,
  That thou on that account hast crossed the bank,
  Know that I vested was with the great mantle;
And truly was I son of the She-bear,
  So eager to advance the cubs, that wealth
  Above, and here myself, I pocketed.
Beneath my head the others are dragged down
  Who have preceded me in simony,
  Flattened along the fissure of the rock.
Below there I shall likewise fall, whenever
  That one shall come who I believed thou wast,
  What time the sudden question I proposed.
But longer I my feet already toast,
  And here have been in this way upside down,
  Than he will planted stay with reddened feet;
For after him shall come of fouler deed
  From tow'rds the west a Pastor without law,
  Such as befits to cover him and me.
New Jason will he be, of whom we read
  In Maccabees; and as his king was pliant,
  So he who governs France shall be to this one."
I do not know if I were here too bold,
  That him I answered only in this metre:
  "I pray thee tell me now how great a treasure
Our Lord demanded of Saint Peter first,
  Before he put the keys into his keeping?
  Truly he nothing asked but 'Follow me.'
Nor Peter nor the rest asked of Matthias
  Silver or gold, when he by lot was chosen
  Unto the place the guilty soul had lost.
Therefore stay here, for thou art justly punished,
  And keep safe guard o'er the ill-gotten money,
  Which caused thee to be valiant against Charles.
And were it not that still forbids it me
  The reverence for the keys superlative
  Thou hadst in keeping in the gladsome life,
I would make use of words more grievous still;
  Because your avarice afflicts the world,
  Trampling the good and lifting the depraved.
The Evangelist you Pastors had in mind,
  When she who sitteth upon many waters
  To fornicate with kings by him was seen;
The same who with the seven heads was born,
  And power and strength from the ten horns received,
  So long as virtue to her spouse was pleasing.
Ye have made yourselves a god of gold and silver;
  And from the idolater how differ ye,
  Save that he one, and ye a hundred worship?
Ah, Constantine! of how much ill was mother,
  Not thy conversion, but that marriage dower
  Which the first wealthy Father took from thee!"
And while I sang to him such notes as these,
  Either that anger or that conscience stung him,
  He struggled violently with both his feet.
I think in sooth that it my Leader pleased,
  With such contented lip he listened ever
  Unto the sound of the true words expressed.
Therefore with both his arms he took me up,
  And when he had me all upon his breast,
  Remounted by the way where he descended.
Nor did he tire to have me clasped to him;
  But bore me to the summit of the arch
  Which from the fourth dike to the fifth is passage.
There tenderly he laid his burden down,
  Tenderly on the crag uneven and steep,
  That would have been hard passage for the goats:
Thence was unveiled to me another valley.
Inferno: Canto XX
Of a new pain behoves me to make verses
  And give material to the twentieth canto
  Of the first song, which is of the submerged.
I was already thoroughly disposed
  To peer down into the uncovered depth,
  Which bathed itself with tears of agony;
And people saw I through the circular valley,
  Silent and weeping, coming at the pace
  Which in this world the Litanies assume.
As lower down my sight descended on them,
  Wondrously each one seemed to be distorted
  From chin to the beginning of the chest;
For tow'rds the reins the countenance was turned,
  And backward it behoved them to advance,
  As to look forward had been taken from them.
Perchance indeed by violence of palsy
  Some one has been thus wholly turned awry;
  But I ne'er saw it, nor believe it can be.
As God may let thee, Reader, gather fruit
  From this thy reading, think now for thyself
  How I could ever keep my face unmoistened,
When our own image near me I beheld
  Distorted so, the weeping of the eyes
  Along the fissure bathed the hinder parts.
Truly I wept, leaning upon a peak
  Of the hard crag, so that my Escort said
  To me: "Art thou, too, of the other fools?
Here pity lives when it is wholly dead;
  Who is a greater reprobate than he
  Who feels compassion at the doom divine?
Lift up, lift up thy head, and see for whom
  Opened the earth before the Thebans' eyes;
  Wherefore they all cried: 'Whither rushest thou,
Amphiaraus?  Why dost leave the war?'
  And downward ceased he not to fall amain
  As far as Minos, who lays hold on all.
See, he has made a bosom of his shoulders!
  Because he wished to see too far before him
  Behind he looks, and backward goes his way:
Behold Tiresias, who his semblance changed,
  When from a male a female he became,
  His members being all of them transformed;
And afterwards was forced to strike once more
  The two entangled serpents with his rod,
  Ere he could have again his manly plumes.
That Aruns is, who backs the other's belly,
  Who in the hills of Luni, there where grubs
  The Carrarese who houses underneath,
Among the marbles white a cavern had
  For his abode; whence to behold the stars
  And sea, the view was not cut off from him.
And she there, who is covering up her breasts,
  Which thou beholdest not, with loosened tresses,
  And on that side has all the hairy skin,
Was Manto, who made quest through many lands,
  Afterwards tarried there where I was born;
  Whereof I would thou list to me a little.
After her father had from life departed,
  And the city of Bacchus had become enslaved,
  She a long season wandered through the world.
Above in beauteous Italy lies a lake
  At the Alp's foot that shuts in Germany
  Over Tyrol, and has the name Benaco.
By a thousand springs, I think, and more, is bathed,
  'Twixt Garda and Val Camonica, Pennino,
  With water that grows stagnant in that lake.
Midway a place is where the Trentine Pastor,
  And he of Brescia, and the Veronese
  Might give his blessing, if he passed that way.
Sitteth Peschiera, fortress fair and strong,
  To front the Brescians and the Bergamasks,
  Where round about the bank descendeth lowest.
There of necessity must fall whatever
  In bosom of Benaco cannot stay,
  And grows a river down through verdant pastures.
Soon as the water doth begin to run,
  No more Benaco is it called, but Mincio,
  Far as Governo, where it falls in Po.
Not far it runs before it finds a plain
  In which it spreads itself, and makes it marshy,
  And oft 'tis wont in summer to be sickly.
Passing that way the virgin pitiless
  Land in the middle of the fen descried,
  Untilled and naked of inhabitants;
There to escape all human intercourse,
  She with her servants stayed, her arts to practise
  And lived, and left her empty body there.
The men, thereafter, who were scattered round,
  Collected in that place, which was made strong
  By the lagoon it had on every side;
They built their city over those dead bones,
  And, after her who first the place selected,
  Mantua named it, without other omen.
Its people once within more crowded were,
  Ere the stupidity of Casalodi
  From Pinamonte had received deceit.
Therefore I caution thee, if e'er thou hearest
  Originate my city otherwise,
  No falsehood may the verity defraud."
And I: "My Master, thy discourses are
  To me so certain, and so take my faith,
  That unto me the rest would be spent coals.
But tell me of the people who are passing,
  If any one note-worthy thou beholdest,
  For only unto that my mind reverts."
Then said he to me: "He who from the cheek
  Thrusts out his beard upon his swarthy shoulders
  Was, at the time when Greece was void of males,
So that there scarce remained one in the cradle,
  An augur, and with Calchas gave the moment,
  In Aulis, when to sever the first cable.
Eryphylus his name was, and so sings
  My lofty Tragedy in some part or other;
  That knowest thou well, who knowest the whole of it.
The next, who is so slender in the flanks,
  Was Michael Scott, who of a verity
  Of magical illusions knew the game.
Behold Guido Bonatti, behold Asdente,
  Who now unto his leather and his thread
  Would fain have stuck, but he too late repents.
Behold the wretched ones, who left the needle,
  The spool and rock, and made them fortune-tellers;
  They wrought their magic spells with herb and image.
But come now, for already holds the confines
  Of both the hemispheres, and under Seville
  Touches the ocean-wave, Cain and the thorns,
And yesternight the moon was round already;
  Thou shouldst remember well it did not harm thee
  From time to time within the forest deep."
Thus spake he to me, and we walked the while.
Inferno: Canto XXI
From bridge to bridge thus, speaking other things
  Of which my Comedy cares not to sing,
  We came along, and held the summit, when
We halted to behold another fissure
  Of Malebolge and other vain laments;
  And I beheld it marvellously dark.
As in the Arsenal of the Venetians
  Boils in the winter the tenacious pitch
  To smear their unsound vessels o'er again,
For sail they cannot; and instead thereof
  One makes his vessel new, and one recaulks
  The ribs of that which many a voyage has made;
One hammers at the prow, one at the stern,
  This one makes oars, and that one cordage twists,
  Another mends the mainsail and the mizzen;
Thus, not by fire, but by the art divine,
  Was boiling down below there a dense pitch
  Which upon every side the bank belimed.
I saw it, but I did not see within it
  Aught but the bubbles that the boiling raised,
  And all swell up and resubside compressed.
The while below there fixedly I gazed,
  My Leader, crying out: "Beware, beware!"
  Drew me unto himself from where I stood.
Then I turned round, as one who is impatient
  To see what it behoves him to escape,
  And whom a sudden terror doth unman,
Who, while he looks, delays not his departure;
  And I beheld behind us a black devil,
  Running along upon the crag, approach.
Ah, how ferocious was he in his aspect!
  And how he seemed to me in action ruthless,
  With open wings and light upon his feet!
His shoulders, which sharp-pointed were and high,
  A sinner did encumber with both haunches,
  And he held clutched the sinews of the feet.
From off our bridge, he said: "O Malebranche,
  Behold one of the elders of Saint Zita;
  Plunge him beneath, for I return for others
Unto that town, which is well furnished with them.
  All there are barrators, except Bonturo;
  No into Yes for money there is changed."
He hurled him down, and over the hard crag
  Turned round, and never was a mastiff loosened
  In so much hurry to pursue a thief.
The other sank, and rose again face downward;
  But the demons, under cover of the bridge,
  Cried: "Here the Santo Volto has no place!
Here swims one otherwise than in the Serchio;
  Therefore, if for our gaffs thou wishest not,
  Do not uplift thyself above the pitch."
They seized him then with more than a hundred rakes;
  They said: "It here behoves thee to dance covered,
  That, if thou canst, thou secretly mayest pilfer."
Not otherwise the cooks their scullions make
  Immerse into the middle of the caldron
  The meat with hooks, so that it may not float.
Said the good Master to me: "That it be not
  Apparent thou art here, crouch thyself down
  Behind a jag, that thou mayest have some screen;
And for no outrage that is done to me
  Be thou afraid, because these things I know,
  For once before was I in such a scuffle."
Then he passed on beyond the bridge's head,
  And as upon the sixth bank he arrived,
  Need was for him to have a steadfast front.
With the same fury, and the same uproar,
  As dogs leap out upon a mendicant,
  Who on a sudden begs, where'er he stops,
They issued from beneath the little bridge,
  And turned against him all their grappling-irons;
  But he cried out: "Be none of you malignant!
Before those hooks of yours lay hold of me,
  Let one of you step forward, who may hear me,
  And then take counsel as to grappling me."
They all cried out: "Let Malacoda go;"
  Whereat one started, and the rest stood still,
  And he came to him, saying: "What avails it?"
"Thinkest thou, Malacoda, to behold me
  Advanced into this place," my Master said,
  "Safe hitherto from all your skill of fence,
Without the will divine, and fate auspicious?
  Let me go on, for it in Heaven is willed
  That I another show this savage road."
Then was his arrogance so humbled in him,
  That he let fall his grapnel at his feet,
  And to the others said: "Now strike him not."
And unto me my Guide: "O thou, who sittest
  Among the splinters of the bridge crouched down,
  Securely now return to me again."
Wherefore I started and came swiftly to him;
  And all the devils forward thrust themselves,
  So that I feared they would not keep their compact.
And thus beheld I once afraid the soldiers
  Who issued under safeguard from Caprona,
  Seeing themselves among so many foes.
Close did I press myself with all my person
  Beside my Leader, and turned not mine eyes
  From off their countenance, which was not good.
They lowered their rakes, and "Wilt thou have me hit him,"
  They said to one another, "on the rump?"
  And answered: "Yes; see that thou nick him with it."
But the same demon who was holding parley
  With my Conductor turned him very quickly,
  And said: "Be quiet, be quiet, Scarmiglione;"
Then said to us: "You can no farther go
  Forward upon this crag, because is lying
  All shattered, at the bottom, the sixth arch.
And if it still doth please you to go onward,
  Pursue your way along upon this rock;
  Near is another crag that yields a path.
Yesterday, five hours later than this hour,
  One thousand and two hundred sixty-six
  Years were complete, that here the way was broken.
I send in that direction some of mine
  To see if any one doth air himself;
  Go ye with them; for they will not be vicious.
Step forward, Alichino and Calcabrina,"
  Began he to cry out, "and thou, Cagnazzo;
  And Barbariccia, do thou guide the ten.
Come forward, Libicocco and Draghignazzo,
  And tusked Ciriatto and Graffiacane,
  And Farfarello and mad Rubicante;
Search ye all round about the boiling pitch;
  Let these be safe as far as the next crag,
  That all unbroken passes o'er the dens."
"O me! what is it, Master, that I see?
  Pray let us go," I said, "without an escort,
  If thou knowest how, since for myself I ask none.
If thou art as observant as thy wont is,
  Dost thou not see that they do gnash their teeth,
  And with their brows are threatening woe to us?"
And he to me: "I will not have thee fear;
  Let them gnash on, according to their fancy,
  Because they do it for those boiling wretches."
Along the left-hand dike they wheeled about;
  But first had each one thrust his tongue between
  His teeth towards their leader for a signal;
And he had made a trumpet of his rump.
Inferno: Canto XXII
I have erewhile seen horsemen moving camp,
  Begin the storming, and their muster make,
  And sometimes starting off for their escape;
Vaunt-couriers have I seen upon your land,
  O Aretines, and foragers go forth,
  Tournaments stricken, and the joustings run,
Sometimes with trumpets and sometimes with bells,
  With kettle-drums, and signals of the castles,
  And with our own, and with outlandish things,
But never yet with bagpipe so uncouth
  Did I see horsemen move, nor infantry,
  Nor ship by any sign of land or star.
We went upon our way with the ten demons;
  Ah, savage company! but in the church
  With saints, and in the tavern with the gluttons!
Ever upon the pitch was my intent,
  To see the whole condition of that Bolgia,
  And of the people who therein were burned.
Even as the dolphins, when they make a sign
  To mariners by arching of the back,
  That they should counsel take to save their vessel,
Thus sometimes, to alleviate his pain,
  One of the sinners would display his back,
  And in less time conceal it than it lightens.
As on the brink of water in a ditch
  The frogs stand only with their muzzles out,
  So that they hide their feet and other bulk,
So upon every side the sinners stood;
  But ever as Barbariccia near them came,
  Thus underneath the boiling they withdrew.
I saw, and still my heart doth shudder at it,
  One waiting thus, even as it comes to pass
  One frog remains, and down another dives;
And Graffiacan, who most confronted him,
  Grappled him by his tresses smeared with pitch,
  And drew him up, so that he seemed an otter.
I knew, before, the names of all of them,
  So had I noted them when they were chosen,
  And when they called each other, listened how.
"O Rubicante, see that thou do lay
  Thy claws upon him, so that thou mayst flay him,"
  Cried all together the accursed ones.
And I: "My Master, see to it, if thou canst,
  That thou mayst know who is the luckless wight,
  Thus come into his adversaries' hands."
Near to the side of him my Leader drew,
  Asked of him whence he was; and he replied:
  "I in the kingdom of Navarre was born;
My mother placed me servant to a lord,
  For she had borne me to a ribald knave,
  Destroyer of himself and of his things.
Then I domestic was of good King Thibault;
  I set me there to practise barratry,
  For which I pay the reckoning in this heat."
And Ciriatto, from whose mouth projected,
  On either side, a tusk, as in a boar,
  Caused him to feel how one of them could rip.
Among malicious cats the mouse had come;
  But Barbariccia clasped him in his arms,
  And said: "Stand ye aside, while I enfork him."
And to my Master he turned round his head;
  "Ask him again," he said, "if more thou wish
  To know from him, before some one destroy him."
The Guide: "Now tell then of the other culprits;
  Knowest thou any one who is a Latian,
  Under the pitch?"  And he: "I separated
Lately from one who was a neighbour to it;
  Would that I still were covered up with him,
  For I should fear not either claw nor hook!"
And Libicocco: "We have borne too much;"
  And with his grapnel seized him by the arm,
  So that, by rending, he tore off a tendon.
Eke Draghignazzo wished to pounce upon him
  Down at the legs; whence their Decurion
  Turned round and round about with evil look.
When they again somewhat were pacified,
  Of him, who still was looking at his wound,
  Demanded my Conductor without stay:
"Who was that one, from whom a luckless parting
  Thou sayest thou hast made, to come ashore?"
  And he replied: "It was the Friar Gomita,
He of Gallura, vessel of all fraud,
  Who had the enemies of his Lord in hand,
  And dealt so with them each exults thereat;
Money he took, and let them smoothly off,
  As he says; and in other offices
  A barrator was he, not mean but sovereign.
Foregathers with him one Don Michael Zanche
  Of Logodoro; and of Sardinia
  To gossip never do their tongues feel tired.
O me! see that one, how he grinds his teeth;
  Still farther would I speak, but am afraid
  Lest he to scratch my itch be making ready."
And the grand Provost, turned to Farfarello,
  Who rolled his eyes about as if to strike,
  Said: "Stand aside there, thou malicious bird."
"If you desire either to see or hear,"
  The terror-stricken recommenced thereon,
  "Tuscans or Lombards, I will make them come.
But let the Malebranche cease a little,
  So that these may not their revenges fear,
  And I, down sitting in this very place,
For one that I am will make seven come,
  When I shall whistle, as our custom is
  To do whenever one of us comes out."
Cagnazzo at these words his muzzle lifted,
  Shaking his head, and said: "Just hear the trick
  Which he has thought of, down to throw himself!"
Whence he, who snares in great abundance had,
  Responded: "I by far too cunning am,
  When I procure for mine a greater sadness."
Alichin held not in, but running counter
  Unto the rest, said to him: "If thou dive,
  I will not follow thee upon the gallop,
But I will beat my wings above the pitch;
  The height be left, and be the bank a shield
  To see if thou alone dost countervail us."
O thou who readest, thou shalt hear new sport!
  Each to the other side his eyes averted;
  He first, who most reluctant was to do it.
The Navarrese selected well his time;
  Planted his feet on land, and in a moment
  Leaped, and released himself from their design.
Whereat each one was suddenly stung with shame,
  But he most who was cause of the defeat;
  Therefore he moved, and cried: "Thou art o'ertakern."
But little it availed, for wings could not
  Outstrip the fear; the other one went under,
  And, flying, upward he his breast directed;
Not otherwise the duck upon a sudden
  Dives under, when the falcon is approaching,
  And upward he returneth cross and weary.
Infuriate at the mockery, Calcabrina
  Flying behind him followed close, desirous
  The other should escape, to have a quarrel.
And when the barrator had disappeared,
  He turned his talons upon his companion,
  And grappled with him right above the moat.
But sooth the other was a doughty sparhawk
  To clapperclaw him well; and both of them
  Fell in the middle of the boiling pond.
A sudden intercessor was the heat;
  But ne'ertheless of rising there was naught,
  To such degree they had their wings belimed.
Lamenting with the others, Barbariccia
  Made four of them fly to the other side
  With all their gaffs, and very speedily
This side and that they to their posts descended;
  They stretched their hooks towards the pitch-ensnared,
  Who were already baked within the crust,
And in this manner busied did we leave them.
Inferno: Canto XXIII
Silent, alone, and without company
  We went, the one in front, the other after,
  As go the Minor Friars along their way.
Upon the fable of Aesop was directed
  My thought, by reason of the present quarrel,
  Where he has spoken of the frog and mouse;
For 'mo' and 'issa' are not more alike
  Than this one is to that, if well we couple
  End and beginning with a steadfast mind.
And even as one thought from another springs,
  So afterward from that was born another,
  Which the first fear within me double made.
Thus did I ponder: "These on our account
  Are laughed to scorn, with injury and scoff
  So great, that much I think it must annoy them.
If anger be engrafted on ill-will,
  They will come after us more merciless
  Than dog upon the leveret which he seizes,"
I felt my hair stand all on end already
  With terror, and stood backwardly intent,
  When said I: "Master, if thou hidest not
Thyself and me forthwith, of Malebranche
  I am in dread; we have them now behind us;
  I so imagine them, I already feel them."
And he: "If I were made of leaded glass,
  Thine outward image I should not attract
  Sooner to me than I imprint the inner.
Just now thy thoughts came in among my own,
  With similar attitude and similar face,
  So that of both one counsel sole I made.
If peradventure the right bank so slope
  That we to the next Bolgia can descend,
  We shall escape from the imagined chase."
Not yet he finished rendering such opinion,
  When I beheld them come with outstretched wings,
  Not far remote, with will to seize upon us.
My Leader on a sudden seized me up,
  Even as a mother who by noise is wakened,
  And close beside her sees the enkindled flames,
Who takes her son, and flies, and does not stop,
  Having more care of him than of herself,
  So that she clothes her only with a shift;
And downward from the top of the hard bank
  Supine he gave him to the pendent rock,
  That one side of the other Bolgia walls.
Ne'er ran so swiftly water through a sluice
  To turn the wheel of any land-built mill,
  When nearest to the paddles it approaches,
As did my Master down along that border,
  Bearing me with him on his breast away,
  As his own son, and not as a companion.
Hardly the bed of the ravine below
  His feet had reached, ere they had reached the hill
  Right over us; but he was not afraid;
For the high Providence, which had ordained
  To place them ministers of the fifth moat,
  The power of thence departing took from all.
A painted people there below we found,
  Who went about with footsteps very slow,
  Weeping and in their semblance tired and vanquished.
They had on mantles with the hoods low down
  Before their eyes, and fashioned of the cut
  That in Cologne they for the monks are made.
Without, they gilded are so that it dazzles;
  But inwardly all leaden and so heavy
  That Frederick used to put them on of straw.
O everlastingly fatiguing mantle!
  Again we turned us, still to the left hand
  Along with them, intent on their sad plaint;
But owing to the weight, that weary folk
  Came on so tardily, that we were new
  In company at each motion of the haunch.
Whence I unto my Leader: "See thou find
  Some one who may by deed or name be known,
  And thus in going move thine eye about."
And one, who understood the Tuscan speech,
  Cried to us from behind: "Stay ye your feet,
  Ye, who so run athwart the dusky air!
Perhaps thou'lt have from me what thou demandest."
  Whereat the Leader turned him, and said: "Wait,
  And then according to his pace proceed."
I stopped, and two beheld I show great haste
  Of spirit, in their faces, to be with me;
  But the burden and the narrow way delayed them.
When they came up, long with an eye askance
  They scanned me without uttering a word.
  Then to each other turned, and said together:
"He by the action of his throat seems living;
  And if they dead are, by what privilege
  Go they uncovered by the heavy stole?"
Then said to me: "Tuscan, who to the college
  Of miserable hypocrites art come,
  Do not disdain to tell us who thou art."
And I to them: "Born was I, and grew up
  In the great town on the fair river of Arno,
  And with the body am I've always had.
But who are ye, in whom there trickles down
  Along your cheeks such grief as I behold?
  And what pain is upon you, that so sparkles?"
And one replied to me: "These orange cloaks
  Are made of lead so heavy, that the weights
  Cause in this way their balances to creak.
Frati Gaudenti were we, and Bolognese;
  I Catalano, and he Loderingo
  Named, and together taken by thy city,
As the wont is to take one man alone,
  For maintenance of its peace; and we were such
  That still it is apparent round Gardingo."
"O Friars," began I, "your iniquitous. . ."
  But said no more; for to mine eyes there rushed
  One crucified with three stakes on the ground.
When me he saw, he writhed himself all over,
  Blowing into his beard with suspirations;
  And the Friar Catalan, who noticed this,
Said to me: "This transfixed one, whom thou seest,
  Counselled the Pharisees that it was meet
  To put one man to torture for the people.
Crosswise and naked is he on the path,
  As thou perceivest; and he needs must feel,
  Whoever passes, first how much he weighs;
And in like mode his father-in-law is punished
  Within this moat, and the others of the council,
  Which for the Jews was a malignant seed."
And thereupon I saw Virgilius marvel
  O'er him who was extended on the cross
  So vilely in eternal banishment.
Then he directed to the Friar this voice:
  "Be not displeased, if granted thee, to tell us
  If to the right hand any pass slope down
By which we two may issue forth from here,
  Without constraining some of the black angels
  To come and extricate us from this deep."
Then he made answer: "Nearer than thou hopest
  There is a rock, that forth from the great circle
  Proceeds, and crosses all the cruel valleys,
Save that at this 'tis broken, and does not bridge it;
  You will be able to mount up the ruin,
  That sidelong slopes and at the bottom rises."
The Leader stood awhile with head bowed down;
  Then said: "The business badly he recounted
  Who grapples with his hook the sinners yonder."
And the Friar: "Many of the Devil's vices
  Once heard I at Bologna, and among them,
  That he's a liar and the father of lies."
Thereat my Leader with great strides went on,
  Somewhat disturbed with anger in his looks;
  Whence from the heavy-laden I departed
After the prints of his beloved feet.
Inferno: Canto XXIV
In that part of the youthful year wherein
  The Sun his locks beneath Aquarius tempers,
  And now the nights draw near to half the day,
What time the hoar-frost copies on the ground
  The outward semblance of her sister white,
  But little lasts the temper of her pen,
The husbandman, whose forage faileth him,
  Rises, and looks, and seeth the champaign
  All gleaming white, whereat he beats his flank,
Returns in doors, and up and down laments,
  Like a poor wretch, who knows not what to do;
  Then he returns and hope revives again,
Seeing the world has changed its countenance
  In little time, and takes his shepherd's crook,
  And forth the little lambs to pasture drives.
Thus did the Master fill me with alarm,
  When I beheld his forehead so disturbed,
  And to the ailment came as soon the plaster.
For as we came unto the ruined bridge,
  The Leader turned to me with that sweet look
  Which at the mountain's foot I first beheld.
His arms he opened, after some advisement
  Within himself elected, looking first
  Well at the ruin, and laid hold of me.
And even as he who acts and meditates,
  For aye it seems that he provides beforehand,
  So upward lifting me towards the summit
Of a huge rock, he scanned another crag,
  Saying: "To that one grapple afterwards,
  But try first if 'tis such that it will hold thee."
This was no way for one clothed with a cloak;
  For hardly we, he light, and I pushed upward,
  Were able to ascend from jag to jag.
And had it not been, that upon that precinct
  Shorter was the ascent than on the other,
  He I know not, but I had been dead beat.
But because Malebolge tow'rds the mouth
  Of the profoundest well is all inclining,
  The structure of each valley doth import
That one bank rises and the other sinks.
  Still we arrived at length upon the point
  Wherefrom the last stone breaks itself asunder.
The breath was from my lungs so milked away,
  When I was up, that I could go no farther,
  Nay, I sat down upon my first arrival.
"Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth,"
  My Master said; "for sitting upon down,
  Or under quilt, one cometh not to fame,
Withouten which whoso his life consumes
  Such vestige leaveth of himself on earth,
  As smoke in air or in the water foam.
And therefore raise thee up, o'ercome the anguish
  With spirit that o'ercometh every battle,
  If with its heavy body it sink not.
A longer stairway it behoves thee mount;
  'Tis not enough from these to have departed;
  Let it avail thee, if thou understand me."
Then I uprose, showing myself provided
  Better with breath than I did feel myself,
  And said: "Go on, for I am strong and bold."
Upward we took our way along the crag,
  Which jagged was, and narrow, and difficult,
  And more precipitous far than that before.
Speaking I went, not to appear exhausted;
  Whereat a voice from the next moat came forth,
  Not well adapted to articulate words.
I know not what it said, though o'er the back
  I now was of the arch that passes there;
  But he seemed moved to anger who was speaking.
I was bent downward, but my living eyes
  Could not attain the bottom, for the dark;
  Wherefore I: "Master, see that thou arrive
At the next round, and let us descend the wall;
  For as from hence I hear and understand not,
  So I look down and nothing I distinguish."
"Other response," he said, "I make thee not,
  Except the doing; for the modest asking
  Ought to be followed by the deed in silence."
We from the bridge descended at its head,
  Where it connects itself with the eighth bank,
  And then was manifest to me the Bolgia;
And I beheld therein a terrible throng
  Of serpents, and of such a monstrous kind,
  That the remembrance still congeals my blood
Let Libya boast no longer with her sand;
  For if Chelydri, Jaculi, and Phareae
  She breeds, with Cenchri and with Amphisbaena,
Neither so many plagues nor so malignant
  E'er showed she with all Ethiopia,
  Nor with whatever on the Red Sea is!
Among this cruel and most dismal throng
  People were running naked and affrighted.
  Without the hope of hole or heliotrope.
They had their hands with serpents bound behind them;
  These riveted upon their reins the tail
  And head, and were in front of them entwined.
And lo! at one who was upon our side
  There darted forth a serpent, which transfixed him
  There where the neck is knotted to the shoulders.
Nor 'O' so quickly e'er, nor 'I' was written,
  As he took fire, and burned; and ashes wholly
  Behoved it that in falling he became.
And when he on the ground was thus destroyed,
  The ashes drew together, and of themselves
  Into himself they instantly returned.
Even thus by the great sages 'tis confessed
  The phoenix dies, and then is born again,
  When it approaches its five-hundredth year;
On herb or grain it feeds not in its life,
  But only on tears of incense and amomum,
  And nard and myrrh are its last winding-sheet.
And as he is who falls, and knows not how,
  By force of demons who to earth down drag him,
  Or other oppilation that binds man,
When he arises and around him looks,
  Wholly bewildered by the mighty anguish
  Which he has suffered, and in looking sighs;
Such was that sinner after he had risen.
  Justice of God! O how severe it is,
  That blows like these in vengeance poureth down!
The Guide thereafter asked him who he was;
  Whence he replied: "I rained from Tuscany
  A short time since into this cruel gorge.
A bestial life, and not a human, pleased me,
  Even as the mule I was; I'm Vanni Fucci,
  Beast, and Pistoia was my worthy den."
And I unto the Guide: "Tell him to stir not,
  And ask what crime has thrust him here below,
  For once a man of blood and wrath I saw him."
And the sinner, who had heard, dissembled not,
  But unto me directed mind and face,
  And with a melancholy shame was painted.
Then said: "It pains me more that thou hast caught me
  Amid this misery where thou seest me,
  Than when I from the other life was taken.
What thou demandest I cannot deny;
  So low am I put down because I robbed
  The sacristy of the fair ornaments,
And falsely once 'twas laid upon another;
  But that thou mayst not such a sight enjoy,
  If thou shalt e'er be out of the dark places,
Thine ears to my announcement ope and hear:
  Pistoia first of Neri groweth meagre;
  Then Florence doth renew her men and manners;
Mars draws a vapour up from Val di Magra,
  Which is with turbid clouds enveloped round,
  And with impetuous and bitter tempest
Over Campo Picen shall be the battle;
  When it shall suddenly rend the mist asunder,
  So that each Bianco shall thereby be smitten.
And this I've said that it may give thee pain."
Inferno: Canto XXV
At the conclusion of his words, the thief
  Lifted his hands aloft with both the figs,
  Crying: "Take that, God, for at thee I aim them."
From that time forth the serpents were my friends;
  For one entwined itself about his neck
  As if it said: "I will not thou speak more;"
And round his arms another, and rebound him,
  Clinching itself together so in front,
  That with them he could not a motion make.
Pistoia, ah, Pistoia! why resolve not
  To burn thyself to ashes and so perish,
  Since in ill-doing thou thy seed excellest?
Through all the sombre circles of this Hell,
  Spirit I saw not against God so proud,
  Not he who fell at Thebes down from the walls!
He fled away, and spake no further word;
  And I beheld a Centaur full of rage
  Come crying out: "Where is, where is the scoffer?"
I do not think Maremma has so many
  Serpents as he had all along his back,
  As far as where our countenance begins.
Upon the shoulders, just behind the nape,
  With wings wide open was a dragon lying,
  And he sets fire to all that he encounters.
My Master said: "That one is Cacus, who
  Beneath the rock upon Mount Aventine
  Created oftentimes a lake of blood.
He goes not on the same road with his brothers,
  By reason of the fraudulent theft he made
  Of the great herd, which he had near to him;
Whereat his tortuous actions ceased beneath
  The mace of Hercules, who peradventure
  Gave him a hundred, and he felt not ten."
While he was speaking thus, he had passed by,
  And spirits three had underneath us come,
  Of which nor I aware was, nor my Leader,
Until what time they shouted: "Who are you?"
  On which account our story made a halt,
  And then we were intent on them alone.
I did not know them; but it came to pass,
  As it is wont to happen by some chance,
  That one to name the other was compelled,
Exclaiming: "Where can Cianfa have remained?"
  Whence I, so that the Leader might attend,
  Upward from chin to nose my finger laid.
If thou art, Reader, slow now to believe
  What I shall say, it will no marvel be,
  For I who saw it hardly can admit it.
As I was holding raised on them my brows,
  Behold! a serpent with six feet darts forth
  In front of one, and fastens wholly on him.
With middle feet it bound him round the paunch,
  And with the forward ones his arms it seized;
  Then thrust its teeth through one cheek and the other;
The hindermost it stretched upon his thighs,
  And put its tail through in between the two,
  And up behind along the reins outspread it.
Ivy was never fastened by its barbs
  Unto a tree so, as this horrible reptile
  Upon the other's limbs entwined its own.
Then they stuck close, as if of heated wax
  They had been made, and intermixed their colour;
  Nor one nor other seemed now what he was;
E'en as proceedeth on before the flame
  Upward along the paper a brown colour,
  Which is not black as yet, and the white dies.
The other two looked on, and each of them
  Cried out: "O me, Agnello, how thou changest!
  Behold, thou now art neither two nor one."
Already the two heads had one become,
  When there appeared to us two figures mingled
  Into one face, wherein the two were lost.
Of the four lists were fashioned the two arms,
  The thighs and legs, the belly and the chest
  Members became that never yet were seen.
Every original aspect there was cancelled;
  Two and yet none did the perverted image
  Appear, and such departed with slow pace.
Even as a lizard, under the great scourge
  Of days canicular, exchanging hedge,
  Lightning appeareth if the road it cross;
Thus did appear, coming towards the bellies
  Of the two others, a small fiery serpent,
  Livid and black as is a peppercorn.
And in that part whereat is first received
  Our aliment, it one of them transfixed;
  Then downward fell in front of him extended.
The one transfixed looked at it, but said naught;
  Nay, rather with feet motionless he yawned,
  Just as if sleep or fever had assailed him.
He at the serpent gazed, and it at him;
  One through the wound, the other through the mouth
  Smoked violently, and the smoke commingled.
Henceforth be silent Lucan, where he mentions
  Wretched Sabellus and Nassidius,
  And wait to hear what now shall be shot forth.
Be silent Ovid, of Cadmus and Arethusa;
  For if him to a snake, her to fountain,
  Converts he fabling, that I grudge him not;
Because two natures never front to front
  Has he transmuted, so that both the forms
  To interchange their matter ready were.
Together they responded in such wise,
  That to a fork the serpent cleft his tail,
  And eke the wounded drew his feet together.
The legs together with the thighs themselves
  Adhered so, that in little time the juncture
  No sign whatever made that was apparent.
He with the cloven tail assumed the figure
  The other one was losing, and his skin
  Became elastic, and the other's hard.
I saw the arms draw inward at the armpits,
  And both feet of the reptile, that were short,
  Lengthen as much as those contracted were.
Thereafter the hind feet, together twisted,
  Became the member that a man conceals,
  And of his own the wretch had two created.
While both of them the exhalation veils
  With a new colour, and engenders hair
  On one of them and depilates the other,
The one uprose and down the other fell,
  Though turning not away their impious lamps,
  Underneath which each one his muzzle changed.
He who was standing drew it tow'rds the temples,
  And from excess of matter, which came thither,
  Issued the ears from out the hollow cheeks;
What did not backward run and was retained
  Of that excess made to the face a nose,
  And the lips thickened far as was befitting.
He who lay prostrate thrusts his muzzle forward,
  And backward draws the ears into his head,
  In the same manner as the snail its horns;
And so the tongue, which was entire and apt
  For speech before, is cleft, and the bi-forked
  In the other closes up, and the smoke ceases.
The soul, which to a reptile had been changed,
  Along the valley hissing takes to flight,
  And after him the other speaking sputters.
Then did he turn upon him his new shoulders,
  And said to the other: "I'll have Buoso run,
  Crawling as I have done, along this road."
In this way I beheld the seventh ballast
  Shift and reshift, and here be my excuse
  The novelty, if aught my pen transgress.
And notwithstanding that mine eyes might be
  Somewhat bewildered, and my mind dismayed,
  They could not flee away so secretly
But that I plainly saw Puccio Sciancato;
  And he it was who sole of three companions,
  Which came in the beginning, was not changed;
The other was he whom thou, Gaville, weepest.
Inferno: Canto XXVI
Rejoice, O Florence, since thou art so great,
  That over sea and land thou beatest thy wings,
  And throughout Hell thy name is spread abroad!
Among the thieves five citizens of thine
  Like these I found, whence shame comes unto me,
  And thou thereby to no great honour risest.
But if when morn is near our dreams are true,
  Feel shalt thou in a little time from now
  What Prato, if none other, craves for thee.
And if it now were, it were not too soon;
  Would that it were, seeing it needs must be,
  For 'twill aggrieve me more the more I age.
We went our way, and up along the stairs
  The bourns had made us to descend before,
  Remounted my Conductor and drew me.
And following the solitary path
  Among the rocks and ridges of the crag,
  The foot without the hand sped not at all.
Then sorrowed I, and sorrow now again,
  When I direct my mind to what I saw,
  And more my genius curb than I am wont,
That it may run not unless virtue guide it;
  So that if some good star, or better thing,
  Have given me good, I may myself not grudge it.
As many as the hind (who on the hill
  Rests at the time when he who lights the world
  His countenance keeps least concealed from us,
While as the fly gives place unto the gnat)
  Seeth the glow-worms down along the valley,
  Perchance there where he ploughs and makes his vintage;
With flames as manifold resplendent all
  Was the eighth Bolgia, as I grew aware
  As soon as I was where the depth appeared.
And such as he who with the bears avenged him
  Beheld Elijah's chariot at departing,
  What time the steeds to heaven erect uprose,
For with his eye he could not follow it
  So as to see aught else than flame alone,
  Even as a little cloud ascending upward,
Thus each along the gorge of the intrenchment
  Was moving; for not one reveals the theft,
  And every flame a sinner steals away.
I stood upon the bridge uprisen to see,
  So that, if I had seized not on a rock,
  Down had I fallen without being pushed.
And the Leader, who beheld me so attent,
  Exclaimed: "Within the fires the spirits are;
  Each swathes himself with that wherewith he burns."
"My Master," I replied, "by hearing thee
  I am more sure; but I surmised already
  It might be so, and already wished to ask thee
Who is within that fire, which comes so cleft
  At top, it seems uprising from the pyre
  Where was Eteocles with his brother placed."
He answered me: "Within there are tormented
  Ulysses and Diomed, and thus together
  They unto vengeance run as unto wrath.
And there within their flame do they lament
  The ambush of the horse, which made the door
  Whence issued forth the Romans' gentle seed;
Therein is wept the craft, for which being dead
  Deidamia still deplores Achilles,
  And pain for the Palladium there is borne."
"If they within those sparks possess the power
  To speak," I said, "thee, Master, much I pray,
  And re-pray, that the prayer be worth a thousand,
That thou make no denial of awaiting
  Until the horned flame shall hither come;
  Thou seest that with desire I lean towards it."
And he to me: "Worthy is thy entreaty
  Of much applause, and therefore I accept it;
  But take heed that thy tongue restrain itself.
Leave me to speak, because I have conceived
  That which thou wishest; for they might disdain
  Perchance, since they were Greeks, discourse of thine."
When now the flame had come unto that point,
  Where to my Leader it seemed time and place,
  After this fashion did I hear him speak:
"O ye, who are twofold within one fire,
  If I deserved of you, while I was living,
  If I deserved of you or much or little
When in the world I wrote the lofty verses,
  Do not move on, but one of you declare
  Whither, being lost, he went away to die."
Then of the antique flame the greater horn,
  Murmuring, began to wave itself about
  Even as a flame doth which the wind fatigues.
Thereafterward, the summit to and fro
  Moving as if it were the tongue that spake,
  It uttered forth a voice, and said: "When I
From Circe had departed, who concealed me
  More than a year there near unto Gaeta,
  Or ever yet Aeneas named it so,
Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence
  For my old father, nor the due affection
  Which joyous should have made Penelope,
Could overcome within me the desire
  I had to be experienced of the world,
  And of the vice and virtue of mankind;
But I put forth on the high open sea
  With one sole ship, and that small company
  By which I never had deserted been.
Both of the shores I saw as far as Spain,
  Far as Morocco, and the isle of Sardes,
  And the others which that sea bathes round about.
I and my company were old and slow
  When at that narrow passage we arrived
  Where Hercules his landmarks set as signals,
That man no farther onward should adventure.
  On the right hand behind me left I Seville,
  And on the other already had left Ceuta.
'O brothers, who amid a hundred thousand
  Perils,' I said, 'have come unto the West,
  To this so inconsiderable vigil
Which is remaining of your senses still
  Be ye unwilling to deny the knowledge,
  Following the sun, of the unpeopled world.
Consider ye the seed from which ye sprang;
  Ye were not made to live like unto brutes,
  But for pursuit of virtue and of knowledge.'
So eager did I render my companions,
  With this brief exhortation, for the voyage,
  That then I hardly could have held them back.
And having turned our stern unto the morning,
  We of the oars made wings for our mad flight,
  Evermore gaining on the larboard side.
Already all the stars of the other pole
  The night beheld, and ours so very low
  It did not rise above the ocean floor.
Five times rekindled and as many quenched
  Had been the splendour underneath the moon,
  Since we had entered into the deep pass,
When there appeared to us a mountain, dim
  From distance, and it seemed to me so high
  As I had never any one beheld.
Joyful were we, and soon it turned to weeping;
  For out of the new land a whirlwind rose,
  And smote upon the fore part of the ship.
Three times it made her whirl with all the waters,
  At the fourth time it made the stern uplift,
  And the prow downward go, as pleased Another,
Until the sea above us closed again."
Inferno: Canto XXVII
Already was the flame erect and quiet,
  To speak no more, and now departed from us
  With the permission of the gentle Poet;
When yet another, which behind it came,
  Caused us to turn our eyes upon its top
  By a confused sound that issued from it.
As the Sicilian bull (that bellowed first
  With the lament of him, and that was right,
  Who with his file had modulated it)
Bellowed so with the voice of the afflicted,
  That, notwithstanding it was made of brass,
  Still it appeared with agony transfixed;
Thus, by not having any way or issue
  At first from out the fire, to its own language
  Converted were the melancholy words.
But afterwards, when they had gathered way
  Up through the point, giving it that vibration
  The tongue had given them in their passage out,
We heard it said: "O thou, at whom I aim
  My voice, and who but now wast speaking Lombard,
  Saying, 'Now go thy way, no more I urge thee,'
Because I come perchance a little late,
  To stay and speak with me let it not irk thee;
  Thou seest it irks not me, and I am burning.
If thou but lately into this blind world
  Hast fallen down from that sweet Latian land,
  Wherefrom I bring the whole of my transgression,
Say, if the Romagnuols have peace or war,
  For I was from the mountains there between
  Urbino and the yoke whence Tiber bursts."
I still was downward bent and listening,
  When my Conductor touched me on the side,
  Saying: "Speak thou: this one a Latian is."
And I, who had beforehand my reply
  In readiness, forthwith began to speak:
  "O soul, that down below there art concealed,
Romagna thine is not and never has been
  Without war in the bosom of its tyrants;
  But open war I none have left there now.
Ravenna stands as it long years has stood;
  The Eagle of Polenta there is brooding,
  So that she covers Cervia with her vans.
The city which once made the long resistance,
  And of the French a sanguinary heap,
  Beneath the Green Paws finds itself again;
Verrucchio's ancient Mastiff and the new,
  Who made such bad disposal of Montagna,
  Where they are wont make wimbles of their teeth.
The cities of Lamone and Santerno
  Governs the Lioncel of the white lair,
  Who changes sides 'twixt summer-time and winter;
And that of which the Savio bathes the flank,
  Even as it lies between the plain and mountain,
  Lives between tyranny and a free state.
Now I entreat thee tell us who thou art;
  Be not more stubborn than the rest have been,
  So may thy name hold front there in the world."
After the fire a little more had roared
  In its own fashion, the sharp point it moved
  This way and that, and then gave forth such breath:
"If I believed that my reply were made
  To one who to the world would e'er return,
  This flame without more flickering would stand still;
But inasmuch as never from this depth
  Did any one return, if I hear true,
  Without the fear of infamy I answer,
I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,
  Believing thus begirt to make amends;
  And truly my belief had been fulfilled
But for the High Priest, whom may ill betide,
  Who put me back into my former sins;
  And how and wherefore I will have thee hear.
While I was still the form of bone and pulp
  My mother gave to me, the deeds I did
  Were not those of a lion, but a fox.
The machinations and the covert ways
  I knew them all, and practised so their craft,
  That to the ends of earth the sound went forth.
When now unto that portion of mine age
  I saw myself arrived, when each one ought
  To lower the sails, and coil away the ropes,
That which before had pleased me then displeased me;
  And penitent and confessing I surrendered,
  Ah woe is me! and it would have bestead me;
The Leader of the modern Pharisees
  Having a war near unto Lateran,
  And not with Saracens nor with the Jews,
For each one of his enemies was Christian,
  And none of them had been to conquer Acre,
  Nor merchandising in the Sultan's land,
Nor the high office, nor the sacred orders,
  In him regarded, nor in me that cord
  Which used to make those girt with it more meagre;
But even as Constantine sought out Sylvester
  To cure his leprosy, within Soracte,
  So this one sought me out as an adept
To cure him of the fever of his pride.
  Counsel he asked of me, and I was silent,
  Because his words appeared inebriate.
And then he said: 'Be not thy heart afraid;
  Henceforth I thee absolve; and thou instruct me
  How to raze Palestrina to the ground.
Heaven have I power to lock and to unlock,
  As thou dost know; therefore the keys are two,
  The which my predecessor held not dear.'
Then urged me on his weighty arguments
  There, where my silence was the worst advice;
  And said I: 'Father, since thou washest me
Of that sin into which I now must fall,
  The promise long with the fulfilment short
  Will make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'
Francis came afterward, when I was dead,
  For me; but one of the black Cherubim
  Said to him: 'Take him not; do me no wrong;
He must come down among my servitors,
  Because he gave the fraudulent advice
  From which time forth I have been at his hair;
For who repents not cannot be absolved,
  Nor can one both repent and will at once,
  Because of the contradiction which consents not.'
O miserable me! how I did shudder
  When he seized on me, saying: 'Peradventure
  Thou didst not think that I was a logician!'
He bore me unto Minos, who entwined
  Eight times his tail about his stubborn back,
  And after he had bitten it in great rage,
Said: 'Of the thievish fire a culprit this;'
  Wherefore, here where thou seest, am I lost,
  And vested thus in going I bemoan me."
When it had thus completed its recital,
  The flame departed uttering lamentations,
  Writhing and flapping its sharp-pointed horn.
Onward we passed, both I and my Conductor,
  Up o'er the crag above another arch,
  Which the moat covers, where is paid the fee
By those who, sowing discord, win their burden.
Inferno: Canto XXVIII
Who ever could, e'en with untrammelled words,
  Tell of the blood and of the wounds in full
  Which now I saw, by many times narrating?
Each tongue would for a certainty fall short
  By reason of our speech and memory,
  That have small room to comprehend so much.
If were again assembled all the people
  Which formerly upon the fateful land
  Of Puglia were lamenting for their blood
Shed by the Romans and the lingering war
  That of the rings made such illustrious spoils,
  As Livy has recorded, who errs not,
With those who felt the agony of blows
  By making counterstand to Robert Guiscard,
  And all the rest, whose bones are gathered still
At Ceperano, where a renegade
  Was each Apulian, and at Tagliacozzo,
  Where without arms the old Alardo conquered,
And one his limb transpierced, and one lopped off,
  Should show, it would be nothing to compare
  With the disgusting mode of the ninth Bolgia.
A cask by losing centre-piece or cant
  Was never shattered so, as I saw one
  Rent from the chin to where one breaketh wind.
Between his legs were hanging down his entrails;
  His heart was visible, and the dismal sack
  That maketh excrement of what is eaten.
While I was all absorbed in seeing him,
  He looked at me, and opened with his hands
  His bosom, saying: "See now how I rend me;
How mutilated, see, is Mahomet;
  In front of me doth Ali weeping go,
  Cleft in the face from forelock unto chin;
And all the others whom thou here beholdest,
  Disseminators of scandal and of schism
  While living were, and therefore are cleft thus.
A devil is behind here, who doth cleave us
  Thus cruelly, unto the falchion's edge
  Putting again each one of all this ream,
When we have gone around the doleful road;
  By reason that our wounds are closed again
  Ere any one in front of him repass.
But who art thou, that musest on the crag,
  Perchance to postpone going to the pain
  That is adjudged upon thine accusations?"
"Nor death hath reached him yet, nor guilt doth bring him,"
  My Master made reply, "to be tormented;
  But to procure him full experience,
Me, who am dead, behoves it to conduct him
  Down here through Hell, from circle unto circle;
  And this is true as that I speak to thee."
More than a hundred were there when they heard him,
  Who in the moat stood still to look at me,
  Through wonderment oblivious of their torture.
"Now say to Fra Dolcino, then, to arm him,
  Thou, who perhaps wilt shortly see the sun,
  If soon he wish not here to follow me,
So with provisions, that no stress of snow
  May give the victory to the Novarese,
  Which otherwise to gain would not be easy."
After one foot to go away he lifted,
  This word did Mahomet say unto me,
  Then to depart upon the ground he stretched it.
Another one, who had his throat pierced through,
  And nose cut off close underneath the brows,
  And had no longer but a single ear,
Staying to look in wonder with the others,
  Before the others did his gullet open,
  Which outwardly was red in every part,
And said: "O thou, whom guilt doth not condemn,
  And whom I once saw up in Latian land,
  Unless too great similitude deceive me,
Call to remembrance Pier da Medicina,
  If e'er thou see again the lovely plain
  That from Vercelli slopes to Marcabo,
And make it known to the best two of Fano,
  To Messer Guido and Angiolello likewise,
  That if foreseeing here be not in vain,
Cast over from their vessel shall they be,
  And drowned near unto the Cattolica,
  By the betrayal of a tyrant fell.
Between the isles of Cyprus and Majorca
  Neptune ne'er yet beheld so great a crime,
  Neither of pirates nor Argolic people.
That traitor, who sees only with one eye,
  And holds the land, which some one here with me
  Would fain be fasting from the vision of,
Will make them come unto a parley with him;
  Then will do so, that to Focara's wind
  They will not stand in need of vow or prayer."
And I to him: "Show to me and declare,
  If thou wouldst have me bear up news of thee,
  Who is this person of the bitter vision."
Then did he lay his hand upon the jaw
  Of one of his companions, and his mouth
  Oped, crying: "This is he, and he speaks not.
This one, being banished, every doubt submerged
  In Caesar by affirming the forearmed
  Always with detriment allowed delay."
O how bewildered unto me appeared,
  With tongue asunder in his windpipe slit,
  Curio, who in speaking was so bold!
And one, who both his hands dissevered had,
  The stumps uplifting through the murky air,
  So that the blood made horrible his face,
Cried out: "Thou shalt remember Mosca also,
  Who said, alas! 'A thing done has an end!'
  Which was an ill seed for the Tuscan people."
"And death unto thy race," thereto I added;
  Whence he, accumulating woe on woe,
  Departed, like a person sad and crazed.
But I remained to look upon the crowd;
  And saw a thing which I should be afraid,
  Without some further proof, even to recount,
If it were not that conscience reassures me,
  That good companion which emboldens man
  Beneath the hauberk of its feeling pure.
I truly saw, and still I seem to see it,
  A trunk without a head walk in like manner
  As walked the others of the mournful herd.
And by the hair it held the head dissevered,
  Hung from the hand in fashion of a lantern,
  And that upon us gazed and said: "O me!"
It of itself made to itself a lamp,
  And they were two in one, and one in two;
  How that can be, He knows who so ordains it.
When it was come close to the bridge's foot,
  It lifted high its arm with all the head,
  To bring more closely unto us its words,
Which were: "Behold now the sore penalty,
  Thou, who dost breathing go the dead beholding;
  Behold if any be as great as this.
And so that thou may carry news of me,
  Know that Bertram de Born am I, the same
  Who gave to the Young King the evil comfort.
I made the father and the son rebellious;
  Achitophel not more with Absalom
  And David did with his accursed goadings.
Because I parted persons so united,
  Parted do I now bear my brain, alas!
  From its beginning, which is in this trunk.
Thus is observed in me the counterpoise."
Inferno: Canto XXIX
The many people and the divers wounds
  These eyes of mine had so inebriated,
  That they were wishful to stand still and weep;
But said Virgilius: "What dost thou still gaze at?
  Why is thy sight still riveted down there
  Among the mournful, mutilated shades?
Thou hast not done so at the other Bolge;
  Consider, if to count them thou believest,
  That two-and-twenty miles the valley winds,
And now the moon is underneath our feet;
  Henceforth the time allotted us is brief,
  And more is to be seen than what thou seest."
"If thou hadst," I made answer thereupon,
  "Attended to the cause for which I looked,
  Perhaps a longer stay thou wouldst have pardoned."
Meanwhile my Guide departed, and behind him
  I went, already making my reply,
  And superadding: "In that cavern where
I held mine eyes with such attention fixed,
  I think a spirit of my blood laments
  The sin which down below there costs so much."
Then said the Master: "Be no longer broken
  Thy thought from this time forward upon him;
  Attend elsewhere, and there let him remain;
For him I saw below the little bridge,
  Pointing at thee, and threatening with his finger
  Fiercely, and heard him called Geri del Bello.
So wholly at that time wast thou impeded
  By him who formerly held Altaforte,
  Thou didst not look that way; so he departed."
"O my Conductor, his own violent death,
  Which is not yet avenged for him," I said,
  "By any who is sharer in the shame,
Made him disdainful; whence he went away,
  As I imagine, without speaking to me,
  And thereby made me pity him the more."
Thus did we speak as far as the first place
  Upon the crag, which the next valley shows
  Down to the bottom, if there were more light.
When we were now right over the last cloister
  Of Malebolge, so that its lay-brothers
  Could manifest themselves unto our sight,
Divers lamentings pierced me through and through,
  Which with compassion had their arrows barbed,
  Whereat mine ears I covered with my hands.
What pain would be, if from the hospitals
  Of Valdichiana, 'twixt July and September,
  And of Maremma and Sardinia
All the diseases in one moat were gathered,
  Such was it here, and such a stench came from it
  As from putrescent limbs is wont to issue.
We had descended on the furthest bank
  From the long crag, upon the left hand still,
  And then more vivid was my power of sight
Down tow'rds the bottom, where the ministress
  Of the high Lord, Justice infallible,
  Punishes forgers, which she here records.
I do not think a sadder sight to see
  Was in Aegina the whole people sick,
  (When was the air so full of pestilence,
The animals, down to the little worm,
  All fell, and afterwards the ancient people,
  According as the poets have affirmed,
Were from the seed of ants restored again,)
  Than was it to behold through that dark valley
  The spirits languishing in divers heaps.
This on the belly, that upon the back
  One of the other lay, and others crawling
  Shifted themselves along the dismal road.
We step by step went onward without speech,
  Gazing upon and listening to the sick
  Who had not strength enough to lift their bodies.
I saw two sitting leaned against each other,
  As leans in heating platter against platter,
  From head to foot bespotted o'er with scabs;
And never saw I plied a currycomb
  By stable-boy for whom his master waits,
  Or him who keeps awake unwillingly,
As every one was plying fast the bite
  Of nails upon himself, for the great rage
  Of itching which no other succour had.
And the nails downward with them dragged the scab,
  In fashion as a knife the scales of bream,
  Or any other fish that has them largest.
"O thou, that with thy fingers dost dismail thee,"
  Began my Leader unto one of them,
  "And makest of them pincers now and then,
Tell me if any Latian is with those
  Who are herein; so may thy nails suffice thee
  To all eternity unto this work."
"Latians are we, whom thou so wasted seest,
  Both of us here," one weeping made reply;
  "But who art thou, that questionest about us?"
And said the Guide: "One am I who descends
  Down with this living man from cliff to cliff,
  And I intend to show Hell unto him."
Then broken was their mutual support,
  And trembling each one turned himself to me,
  With others who had heard him by rebound.
Wholly to me did the good Master gather,
  Saying: "Say unto them whate'er thou wishest."
  And I began, since he would have it so:
"So may your memory not steal away
  In the first world from out the minds of men,
  But so may it survive 'neath many suns,
Say to me who ye are, and of what people;
  Let not your foul and loathsome punishment
  Make you afraid to show yourselves to me."
"I of Arezzo was," one made reply,
  "And Albert of Siena had me burned;
  But what I died for does not bring me here.
'Tis true I said to him, speaking in jest,
  That I could rise by flight into the air,
  And he who had conceit, but little wit,
Would have me show to him the art; and only
  Because no Daedalus I made him, made me
  Be burned by one who held him as his son.
But unto the last Bolgia of the ten,
  For alchemy, which in the world I practised,
  Minos, who cannot err, has me condemned."
And to the Poet said I: "Now was ever
  So vain a people as the Sienese?
  Not for a certainty the French by far."
Whereat the other leper, who had heard me,
  Replied unto my speech: "Taking out Stricca,
  Who knew the art of moderate expenses,
And Niccolo, who the luxurious use
  Of cloves discovered earliest of all
  Within that garden where such seed takes root;
And taking out the band, among whom squandered
  Caccia d'Ascian his vineyards and vast woods,
  And where his wit the Abbagliato proffered!
But, that thou know who thus doth second thee
  Against the Sienese, make sharp thine eye
  Tow'rds me, so that my face well answer thee,
And thou shalt see I am Capocchio's shade,
  Who metals falsified by alchemy;
  Thou must remember, if I well descry thee,
How I a skilful ape of nature was."
Inferno: Canto XXX
'Twas at the time when Juno was enraged,
  For Semele, against the Theban blood,
  As she already more than once had shown,
So reft of reason Athamas became,
  That, seeing his own wife with children twain
  Walking encumbered upon either hand,
He cried: "Spread out the nets, that I may take
  The lioness and her whelps upon the passage;"
  And then extended his unpitying claws,
Seizing the first, who had the name Learchus,
  And whirled him round, and dashed him on a rock;
  And she, with the other burthen, drowned herself;--
And at the time when fortune downward hurled
  The Trojan's arrogance, that all things dared,
  So that the king was with his kingdom crushed,
Hecuba sad, disconsolate, and captive,
  When lifeless she beheld Polyxena,
  And of her Polydorus on the shore
Of ocean was the dolorous one aware,
  Out of her senses like a dog she barked,
  So much the anguish had her mind distorted;
But not of Thebes the furies nor the Trojan
  Were ever seen in any one so cruel
  In goading beasts, and much more human members,
As I beheld two shadows pale and naked,
  Who, biting, in the manner ran along
  That a boar does, when from the sty turned loose.
One to Capocchio came, and by the nape
  Seized with its teeth his neck, so that in dragging
  It made his belly grate the solid bottom.
And the Aretine, who trembling had remained,
  Said to me: "That mad sprite is Gianni Schicchi,
  And raving goes thus harrying other people."
"O," said I to him, "so may not the other
  Set teeth on thee, let it not weary thee
  To tell us who it is, ere it dart hence."
And he to me: "That is the ancient ghost
  Of the nefarious Myrrha, who became
  Beyond all rightful love her father's lover.
She came to sin with him after this manner,
  By counterfeiting of another's form;
  As he who goeth yonder undertook,
That he might gain the lady of the herd,
  To counterfeit in himself Buoso Donati,
  Making a will and giving it due form."
And after the two maniacs had passed
  On whom I held mine eye, I turned it back
  To look upon the other evil-born.
I saw one made in fashion of a lute,
  If he had only had the groin cut off
  Just at the point at which a man is forked.
The heavy dropsy, that so disproportions
  The limbs with humours, which it ill concocts,
  That the face corresponds not to the belly,
Compelled him so to hold his lips apart
  As does the hectic, who because of thirst
  One tow'rds the chin, the other upward turns.
"O ye, who without any torment are,
  And why I know not, in the world of woe,"
  He said to us, "behold, and be attentive
Unto the misery of Master Adam;
  I had while living much of what I wished,
  And now, alas! a drop of water crave.
The rivulets, that from the verdant hills
  Of Cassentin descend down into Arno,
  Making their channels to be cold and moist,
Ever before me stand, and not in vain;
  For far more doth their image dry me up
  Than the disease which strips my face of flesh.
The rigid justice that chastises me
  Draweth occasion from the place in which
  I sinned, to put the more my sighs in flight.
There is Romena, where I counterfeited
  The currency imprinted with the Baptist,
  For which I left my body burned above.
But if I here could see the tristful soul
  Of Guido, or Alessandro, or their brother,
  For Branda's fount I would not give the sight.
One is within already, if the raving
  Shades that are going round about speak truth;
  But what avails it me, whose limbs are tied?
If I were only still so light, that in
  A hundred years I could advance one inch,
  I had already started on the way,
Seeking him out among this squalid folk,
  Although the circuit be eleven miles,
  And be not less than half a mile across.
For them am I in such a family;
  They did induce me into coining florins,
  Which had three carats of impurity."
And I to him: "Who are the two poor wretches
  That smoke like unto a wet hand in winter,
  Lying there close upon thy right-hand confines?"
"I found them here," replied he, "when I rained
  Into this chasm, and since they have not turned,
  Nor do I think they will for evermore.
One the false woman is who accused Joseph,
  The other the false Sinon, Greek of Troy;
  From acute fever they send forth such reek."
And one of them, who felt himself annoyed
  At being, peradventure, named so darkly,
  Smote with the fist upon his hardened paunch.
It gave a sound, as if it were a drum;
  And Master Adam smote him in the face,
  With arm that did not seem to be less hard,
Saying to him: "Although be taken from me
  All motion, for my limbs that heavy are,
  I have an arm unfettered for such need."
Whereat he answer made: "When thou didst go
  Unto the fire, thou hadst it not so ready:
  But hadst it so and more when thou wast coining."
The dropsical: "Thou sayest true in that;
  But thou wast not so true a witness there,
  Where thou wast questioned of the truth at Troy."
"If I spake false, thou falsifiedst the coin,"
  Said Sinon; "and for one fault I am here,
  And thou for more than any other demon."
"Remember, perjurer, about the horse,"
  He made reply who had the swollen belly,
  "And rueful be it thee the whole world knows it."
"Rueful to thee the thirst be wherewith cracks
  Thy tongue," the Greek said, "and the putrid water
  That hedges so thy paunch before thine eyes."
Then the false-coiner: "So is gaping wide
  Thy mouth for speaking evil, as 'tis wont;
  Because if I have thirst, and humour stuff me
Thou hast the burning and the head that aches,
  And to lick up the mirror of Narcissus
  Thou wouldst not want words many to invite thee."
In listening to them was I wholly fixed,
  When said the Master to me: "Now just look,
  For little wants it that I quarrel with thee."
When him I heard in anger speak to me,
  I turned me round towards him with such shame
  That still it eddies through my memory.
And as he is who dreams of his own harm,
  Who dreaming wishes it may be a dream,
  So that he craves what is, as if it were not;
Such I became, not having power to speak,
  For to excuse myself I wished, and still
  Excused myself, and did not think I did it.
"Less shame doth wash away a greater fault,"
  The Master said, "than this of thine has been;
  Therefore thyself disburden of all sadness,
And make account that I am aye beside thee,
  If e'er it come to pass that fortune bring thee
  Where there are people in a like dispute;
For a base wish it is to wish to hear it."
Inferno: Canto XXXI
One and the selfsame tongue first wounded me,
  So that it tinged the one cheek and the other,
  And then held out to me the medicine;
Thus do I hear that once Achilles' spear,
  His and his father's, used to be the cause
  First of a sad and then a gracious boon.
We turned our backs upon the wretched valley,
  Upon the bank that girds it round about,
  Going across it without any speech.
There it was less than night, and less than day,
  So that my sight went little in advance;
  But I could hear the blare of a loud horn,
So loud it would have made each thunder faint,
  Which, counter to it following its way,
  Mine eyes directed wholly to one place.
After the dolorous discomfiture
  When Charlemagne the holy emprise lost,
  So terribly Orlando sounded not.
Short while my head turned thitherward I held
  When many lofty towers I seemed to see,
  Whereat I: "Master, say, what town is this?"
And he to me: "Because thou peerest forth
  Athwart the darkness at too great a distance,
  It happens that thou errest in thy fancy.
Well shalt thou see, if thou arrivest there,
  How much the sense deceives itself by distance;
  Therefore a little faster spur thee on."
Then tenderly he took me by the hand,
  And said: "Before we farther have advanced,
  That the reality may seem to thee
Less strange, know that these are not towers, but giants,
  And they are in the well, around the bank,
  From navel downward, one and all of them."
As, when the fog is vanishing away,
  Little by little doth the sight refigure
  Whate'er the mist that crowds the air conceals,
So, piercing through the dense and darksome air,
  More and more near approaching tow'rd the verge,
  My error fled, and fear came over me;
Because as on its circular parapets
  Montereggione crowns itself with towers,
  E'en thus the margin which surrounds the well
With one half of their bodies turreted
  The horrible giants, whom Jove menaces
  E'en now from out the heavens when he thunders.
And I of one already saw the face,
  Shoulders, and breast, and great part of the belly,
  And down along his sides both of the arms.
Certainly Nature, when she left the making
  Of animals like these, did well indeed,
  By taking such executors from Mars;
And if of elephants and whales she doth not
  Repent her, whosoever looketh subtly
  More just and more discreet will hold her for it;
For where the argument of intellect
  Is added unto evil will and power,
  No rampart can the people make against it.
His face appeared to me as long and large
  As is at Rome the pine-cone of Saint Peter's,
  And in proportion were the other bones;
So that the margin, which an apron was
  Down from the middle, showed so much of him
  Above it, that to reach up to his hair
Three Frieslanders in vain had vaunted them;
  For I beheld thirty great palms of him
  Down from the place where man his mantle buckles.
"Raphael mai amech izabi almi,"
  Began to clamour the ferocious mouth,
  To which were not befitting sweeter psalms.
And unto him my Guide: "Soul idiotic,
  Keep to thy horn, and vent thyself with that,
  When wrath or other passion touches thee.
Search round thy neck, and thou wilt find the belt
  Which keeps it fastened, O bewildered soul,
  And see it, where it bars thy mighty breast."
Then said to me: "He doth himself accuse;
  This one is Nimrod, by whose evil thought
  One language in the world is not still used.
Here let us leave him and not speak in vain;
  For even such to him is every language
  As his to others, which to none is known."
Therefore a longer journey did we make,
  Turned to the left, and a crossbow-shot oft
  We found another far more fierce and large.
In binding him, who might the master be
  I cannot say; but he had pinioned close
  Behind the right arm, and in front the other,
With chains, that held him so begirt about
  From the neck down, that on the part uncovered
  It wound itself as far as the fifth gyre.
"This proud one wished to make experiment
  Of his own power against the Supreme Jove,"
  My Leader said, "whence he has such a guerdon.
Ephialtes is his name; he showed great prowess.
  What time the giants terrified the gods;
  The arms he wielded never more he moves."
And I to him: "If possible, I should wish
  That of the measureless Briareus
  These eyes of mine might have experience."
Whence he replied: "Thou shalt behold Antaeus
  Close by here, who can speak and is unbound,
  Who at the bottom of all crime shall place us.
Much farther yon is he whom thou wouldst see,
  And he is bound, and fashioned like to this one,
  Save that he seems in aspect more ferocious."
There never was an earthquake of such might
  That it could shake a tower so violently,
  As Ephialtes suddenly shook himself.
Then was I more afraid of death than ever,
  For nothing more was needful than the fear,
  If I had not beheld the manacles.
Then we proceeded farther in advance,
  And to Antaeus came, who, full five ells
  Without the head, forth issued from the cavern.
"O thou, who in the valley fortunate,
  Which Scipio the heir of glory made,
  When Hannibal turned back with all his hosts,
Once brought'st a thousand lions for thy prey,
  And who, hadst thou been at the mighty war
  Among thy brothers, some it seems still think
The sons of Earth the victory would have gained:
  Place us below, nor be disdainful of it,
  There where the cold doth lock Cocytus up.
Make us not go to Tityus nor Typhoeus;
  This one can give of that which here is longed for;
  Therefore stoop down, and do not curl thy lip.
Still in the world can he restore thy fame;
  Because he lives, and still expects long life,
  If to itself Grace call him not untimely."
So said the Master; and in haste the other
  His hands extended and took up my Guide,--
  Hands whose great pressure Hercules once felt.
Virgilius, when he felt himself embraced,
  Said unto me: "Draw nigh, that I may take thee;"
  Then of himself and me one bundle made.
As seems the Carisenda, to behold
  Beneath the leaning side, when goes a cloud
  Above it so that opposite it hangs;
Such did Antaeus seem to me, who stood
  Watching to see him stoop, and then it was
  I could have wished to go some other way.
But lightly in the abyss, which swallows up
  Judas with Lucifer, he put us down;
  Nor thus bowed downward made he there delay,
But, as a mast does in a ship, uprose.
Inferno: Canto XXXII
If I had rhymes both rough and stridulous,
  As were appropriate to the dismal hole
  Down upon which thrust all the other rocks,
I would press out the juice of my conception
  More fully; but because I have them not,
  Not without fear I bring myself to speak;
For 'tis no enterprise to take in jest,
  To sketch the bottom of all the universe,
  Nor for a tongue that cries Mamma and Babbo.
But may those Ladies help this verse of mine,
  Who helped Amphion in enclosing Thebes,
  That from the fact the word be not diverse.
O rabble ill-begotten above all,
  Who're in the place to speak of which is hard,
  'Twere better ye had here been sheep or goats!
When we were down within the darksome well,
  Beneath the giant's feet, but lower far,
  And I was scanning still the lofty wall,
I heard it said to me: "Look how thou steppest!
  Take heed thou do not trample with thy feet
  The heads of the tired, miserable brothers!"
Whereat I turned me round, and saw before me
  And underfoot a lake, that from the frost
  The semblance had of glass, and not of water.
So thick a veil ne'er made upon its current
  In winter-time Danube in Austria,
  Nor there beneath the frigid sky the Don,
As there was here; so that if Tambernich
  Had fallen upon it, or Pietrapana,
  E'en at the edge 'twould not have given a creak.
And as to croak the frog doth place himself
  With muzzle out of water,--when is dreaming
  Of gleaning oftentimes the peasant-girl,--
Livid, as far down as where shame appears,
  Were the disconsolate shades within the ice,
  Setting their teeth unto the note of storks.
Each one his countenance held downward bent;
  From mouth the cold, from eyes the doleful heart
  Among them witness of itself procures.
When round about me somewhat I had looked,
  I downward turned me, and saw two so close,
  The hair upon their heads together mingled.
"Ye who so strain your breasts together, tell me,"
  I said, "who are you;" and they bent their necks,
  And when to me their faces they had lifted,
Their eyes, which first were only moist within,
  Gushed o'er the eyelids, and the frost congealed
  The tears between, and locked them up again.
Clamp never bound together wood with wood
  So strongly; whereat they, like two he-goats,
  Butted together, so much wrath o'ercame them.
And one, who had by reason of the cold
  Lost both his ears, still with his visage downward,
  Said: "Why dost thou so mirror thyself in us?
If thou desire to know who these two are,
  The valley whence Bisenzio descends
  Belonged to them and to their father Albert.
They from one body came, and all Caina
  Thou shalt search through, and shalt not find a shade
  More worthy to be fixed in gelatine;
Not he in whom were broken breast and shadow
  At one and the same blow by Arthur's hand;
  Focaccia not; not he who me encumbers
So with his head I see no farther forward,
  And bore the name of Sassol Mascheroni;
  Well knowest thou who he was, if thou art Tuscan.
And that thou put me not to further speech,
  Know that I Camicion de' Pazzi was,
  And wait Carlino to exonerate me."
Then I beheld a thousand faces, made
  Purple with cold; whence o'er me comes a shudder,
  And evermore will come, at frozen ponds.
And while we were advancing tow'rds the middle,
  Where everything of weight unites together,
  And I was shivering in the eternal shade,
Whether 'twere will, or destiny, or chance,
  I know not; but in walking 'mong the heads
  I struck my foot hard in the face of one.
Weeping he growled: "Why dost thou trample me?
  Unless thou comest to increase the vengeance
  of Montaperti, why dost thou molest me?"
And I: "My Master, now wait here for me,
  That I through him may issue from a doubt;
  Then thou mayst hurry me, as thou shalt wish."
The Leader stopped; and to that one I said
  Who was blaspheming vehemently still:
  "Who art thou, that thus reprehendest others?"
"Now who art thou, that goest through Antenora
  Smiting," replied he, "other people's cheeks,
  So that, if thou wert living, 'twere too much?"
"Living I am, and dear to thee it may be,"
  Was my response, "if thou demandest fame,
  That 'mid the other notes thy name I place."
And he to me: "For the reverse I long;
  Take thyself hence, and give me no more trouble;
  For ill thou knowest to flatter in this hollow."
Then by the scalp behind I seized upon him,
  And said: "It must needs be thou name thyself,
  Or not a hair remain upon thee here."
Whence he to me: "Though thou strip off my hair,
  I will not tell thee who I am, nor show thee,
  If on my head a thousand times thou fall."
I had his hair in hand already twisted,
  And more than one shock of it had pulled out,
  He barking, with his eyes held firmly down,
When cried another: "What doth ail thee, Bocca?
  Is't not enough to clatter with thy jaws,
  But thou must bark? what devil touches thee?"
"Now," said I, "I care not to have thee speak,
  Accursed traitor; for unto thy shame
  I will report of thee veracious news."
"Begone," replied he, "and tell what thou wilt,
  But be not silent, if thou issue hence,
  Of him who had just now his tongue so prompt;
He weepeth here the silver of the French;
  'I saw,' thus canst thou phrase it, 'him of Duera
  There where the sinners stand out in the cold.'
If thou shouldst questioned be who else was there,
  Thou hast beside thee him of Beccaria,
  Of whom the gorget Florence slit asunder;
Gianni del Soldanier, I think, may be
  Yonder with Ganellon, and Tebaldello
  Who oped Faenza when the people slep."
Already we had gone away from him,
  When I beheld two frozen in one hole,
  So that one head a hood was to the other;
And even as bread through hunger is devoured,
  The uppermost on the other set his teeth,
  There where the brain is to the nape united.
Not in another fashion Tydeus gnawed
  The temples of Menalippus in disdain,
  Than that one did the skull and the other things.
"O thou, who showest by such bestial sign
  Thy hatred against him whom thou art eating,
  Tell me the wherefore," said I, "with this compact,
That if thou rightfully of him complain,
  In knowing who ye are, and his transgression,
  I in the world above repay thee for it,
If that wherewith I speak be not dried up."
Inferno: Canto XXXIII
His mouth uplifted from his grim repast,
  That sinner, wiping it upon the hair
  Of the same head that he behind had wasted.
Then he began: "Thou wilt that I renew
  The desperate grief, which wrings my heart already
  To think of only, ere I speak of it;
But if my words be seed that may bear fruit
  Of infamy to the traitor whom I gnaw,
  Speaking and weeping shalt thou see together.
I know not who thou art, nor by what mode
  Thou hast come down here; but a Florentine
  Thou seemest to me truly, when I hear thee.
Thou hast to know I was Count Ugolino,
  And this one was Ruggieri the Archbishop;
  Now I will tell thee why I am such a neighbour.
That, by effect of his malicious thoughts,
  Trusting in him I was made prisoner,
  And after put to death, I need not say;
 But ne'ertheless what thou canst not have heard,
  That is to say, how cruel was my death,
  Hear shalt thou, and shalt know if he has wronged me.
A narrow perforation in the mew,
  Which bears because of me the title of Famine,
  And in which others still must be locked up,
Had shown me through its opening many moons
  Already, when I dreamed the evil dream
  Which of the future rent for me the veil.
This one appeared to me as lord and master,
  Hunting the wolf and whelps upon the mountain
  For which the Pisans cannot Lucca see.
With sleuth-hounds gaunt, and eager, and well trained,
  Gualandi with Sismondi and Lanfianchi
  He had sent out before him to the front.
After brief course seemed unto me forespent
  The father and the sons, and with sharp tushes
  It seemed to me I saw their flanks ripped open.
When I before the morrow was awake,
  Moaning amid their sleep I heard my sons
  Who with me were, and asking after bread.
Cruel indeed art thou, if yet thou grieve not,
  Thinking of what my heart foreboded me,
  And weep'st thou not, what art thou wont to weep at?
They were awake now, and the hour drew nigh
  At which our food used to be brought to us,
  And through his dream was each one apprehensive;
And I heard locking up the under door
  Of the horrible tower; whereat without a word
  I gazed into the faces of my sons.
I wept not, I within so turned to stone;
  They wept; and darling little Anselm mine
  Said: 'Thou dost gaze so, father, what doth ail thee?'
Still not a tear I shed, nor answer made
  All of that day, nor yet the night thereafter,
  Until another sun rose on the world.
As now a little glimmer made its way
  Into the dolorous prison, and I saw
  Upon four faces my own very aspect,
Both of my hands in agony I bit;
  And, thinking that I did it from desire
  Of eating, on a sudden they uprose,
And said they: 'Father, much less pain 'twill give us
  If thou do eat of us; thyself didst clothe us
  With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off.'
I calmed me then, not to make them more sad.
  That day we all were silent, and the next.
  Ah! obdurate earth, wherefore didst thou not open?
When we had come unto the fourth day, Gaddo
  Threw himself down outstretched before my feet,
  Saying, 'My father, why dost thou not help me?'
And there he died; and, as thou seest me,
  I saw the three fall, one by one, between
  The fifth day and the sixth; whence I betook me,
Already blind, to groping over each,
  And three days called them after they were dead;
  Then hunger did what sorrow could not do."
When he had said this, with his eyes distorted,
  The wretched skull resumed he with his teeth,
  Which, as a dog's, upon the bone were strong.
Ah! Pisa, thou opprobrium of the people
  Of the fair land there where the 'Si' doth sound,
  Since slow to punish thee thy neighbours are,
Let the Capraia and Gorgona move,
  And make a hedge across the mouth of Arno
  That every person in thee it may drown!
For if Count Ugolino had the fame
  Of having in thy castles thee betrayed,
  Thou shouldst not on such cross have put his sons.
Guiltless of any crime, thou modern Thebes!
  Their youth made Uguccione and Brigata,
  And the other two my song doth name above!
We passed still farther onward, where the ice
  Another people ruggedly enswathes,
  Not downward turned, but all of them reversed.
Weeping itself there does not let them weep,
  And grief that finds a barrier in the eyes
  Turns itself inward to increase the anguish;
Because the earliest tears a cluster form,
  And, in the manner of a crystal visor,
  Fill all the cup beneath the eyebrow full.
And notwithstanding that, as in a callus,
  Because of cold all sensibility
  Its station had abandoned in my face,
Still it appeared to me I felt some wind;
  Whence I: "My Master, who sets this in motion?
  Is not below here every vapour quenched?"
Whence he to me: "Full soon shalt thou be where
  Thine eye shall answer make to thee of this,
  Seeing the cause which raineth down the blast."
And one of the wretches of the frozen crust
  Cried out to us: "O souls so merciless
  That the last post is given unto you,
Lift from mine eyes the rigid veils, that I
  May vent the sorrow which impregns my heart
  A little, e'er the weeping recongeal."
Whence I to him: "If thou wouldst have me help thee
  Say who thou wast; and if I free thee not,
  May I go to the bottom of the ice."
Then he replied: "I am Friar Alberigo;
  He am I of the fruit of the bad garden,
  Who here a date am getting for my fig."
"O," said I to him, "now art thou, too, dead?"
  And he to me: "How may my body fare
  Up in the world, no knowledge I possess.
Such an advantage has this Ptolomaea,
  That oftentimes the soul descendeth here
  Sooner than Atropos in motion sets it.
And, that thou mayest more willingly remove
  From off my countenance these glassy tears,
  Know that as soon as any soul betrays
As I have done, his body by a demon
  Is taken from him, who thereafter rules it,
  Until his time has wholly been revolved.
Itself down rushes into such a cistern;
  And still perchance above appears the body
  Of yonder shade, that winters here behind me.
This thou shouldst know, if thou hast just come down;
  It is Ser Branca d' Oria, and many years
  Have passed away since he was thus locked up."
"I think," said I to him, "thou dost deceive me;
  For Branca d' Oria is not dead as yet,
  And eats, and drinks, and sleeps, and puts on clothes."
"In moat above," said he, "of Malebranche,
  There where is boiling the tenacious pitch,
  As yet had Michel Zanche not arrived,
When this one left a devil in his stead
  In his own body and one near of kin,
  Who made together with him the betrayal.
But hitherward stretch out thy hand forthwith,
  Open mine eyes;"--and open them I did not,
  And to be rude to him was courtesy.
Ah, Genoese! ye men at variance
  With every virtue, full of every vice
  Wherefore are ye not scattered from the world?
For with the vilest spirit of Romagna
  I found of you one such, who for his deeds
  In soul already in Cocytus bathes,
And still above in body seems alive!
Inferno: Canto XXXIV
"'Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni'
  Towards us; therefore look in front of thee,"
  My Master said, "if thou discernest him."
As, when there breathes a heavy fog, or when
  Our hemisphere is darkening into night,
  Appears far off a mill the wind is turning,
Methought that such a building then I saw;
  And, for the wind, I drew myself behind
  My Guide, because there was no other shelter.
Now was I, and with fear in verse I put it,
  There where the shades were wholly covered up,
  And glimmered through like unto straws in glass.
Some prone are lying, others stand erect,
  This with the head, and that one with the soles;
  Another, bow-like, face to feet inverts.
When in advance so far we had proceeded,
  That it my Master pleased to show to me
  The creature who once had the beauteous semblance,
He from before me moved and made me stop,
  Saying: "Behold Dis, and behold the place
  Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself."
How frozen I became and powerless then,
  Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not,
  Because all language would be insufficient.
I did not die, and I alive remained not;
  Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit,
  What I became, being of both deprived.
The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous
  From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice;
  And better with a giant I compare
Than do the giants with those arms of his;
  Consider now how great must be that whole,
  Which unto such a part conforms itself.
Were he as fair once, as he now is foul,
  And lifted up his brow against his Maker,
  Well may proceed from him all tribulation.
O, what a marvel it appeared to me,
  When I beheld three faces on his head!
  The one in front, and that vermilion was;
Two were the others, that were joined with this
  Above the middle part of either shoulder,
  And they were joined together at the crest;
And the right-hand one seemed 'twixt white and yellow;
  The left was such to look upon as those
  Who come from where the Nile falls valley-ward.
Underneath each came forth two mighty wings,
  Such as befitting were so great a bird;
  Sails of the sea I never saw so large.
 No feathers had they, but as of a bat
  Their fashion was; and he was waving them,
  So that three winds proceeded forth therefrom.
Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed.
  With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins
  Trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel.
At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching
  A sinner, in the manner of a brake,
  So that he three of them tormented thus.
To him in front the biting was as naught
  Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine
  Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.
"That soul up there which has the greatest pain,"
  The Master said, "is Judas Iscariot;
  With head inside, he plies his legs without.
Of the two others, who head downward are,
  The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus;
  See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.
And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius.
  But night is reascending, and 'tis time
  That we depart, for we have seen the whole."
As seemed him good, I clasped him round the neck,
  And he the vantage seized of time and place,
  And when the wings were opened wide apart,
He laid fast hold upon the shaggy sides;
  From fell to fell descended downward then
  Between the thick hair and the frozen crust.
When we were come to where the thigh revolves
  Exactly on the thickness of the haunch,
  The Guide, with labour and with hard-drawn breath,
Turned round his head where he had had his legs,
  And grappled to the hair, as one who mounts,
  So that to Hell I thought we were returning.
"Keep fast thy hold, for by such stairs as these,"
  The Master said, panting as one fatigued,
  "Must we perforce depart from so much evil."
Then through the opening of a rock he issued,
  And down upon the margin seated me;
  Then tow'rds me he outstretched his wary step.
I lifted up mine eyes and thought to see
  Lucifer in the same way I had left him;
  And I beheld him upward hold his legs.
And if I then became disquieted,
  Let stolid people think who do not see
  What the point is beyond which I had passed.
"Rise up," the Master said, "upon thy feet;
  The way is long, and difficult the road,
  And now the sun to middle-tierce returns."
It was not any palace corridor
  There where we were, but dungeon natural,
  With floor uneven and unease of light.
"Ere from the abyss I tear myself away,
  My Master," said I when I had arisen,
  "To draw me from an error speak a little;
Where is the ice? and how is this one fixed
  Thus upside down? and how in such short time
  From eve to morn has the sun made his transit?"
And he to me: "Thou still imaginest
  Thou art beyond the centre, where I grasped
  The hair of the fell worm, who mines the world.
That side thou wast, so long as I descended;
  When round I turned me, thou didst pass the point
  To which things heavy draw from every side,
And now beneath the hemisphere art come
  Opposite that which overhangs the vast
  Dry-land, and 'neath whose cope was put to death
The Man who without sin was born and lived.
  Thou hast thy feet upon the little sphere
  Which makes the other face of the Judecca.
Here it is morn when it is evening there;
  And he who with his hair a stairway made us
  Still fixed remaineth as he was before.
Upon this side he fell down out of heaven;
  And all the land, that whilom here emerged,
  For fear of him made of the sea a veil,
And came to our hemisphere; and peradventure
  To flee from him, what on this side appears
  Left the place vacant here, and back recoiled."
A place there is below, from Beelzebub
  As far receding as the tomb extends,
  Which not by sight is known, but by the sound
Of a small rivulet, that there descendeth
  Through chasm within the stone, which it has gnawed
  With course that winds about and slightly falls.
The Guide and I into that hidden road
  Now entered, to return to the bright world;
  And without care of having any rest
We mounted up, he first and I the second,
  Till I beheld through a round aperture
  Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;
Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.
THE STRAND MAGAZINE
_An Illustrated Monthly_
EDITED BY GEORGE NEWNES
Vol. VII., Issue 37. January, 1894.
       *       *       *       *       *
Stories from the Diary of a Doctor.
    By the Authors of "The Medicine Lady."
    VII.--The Horror of Studley Grange.
The Queen of Holland.
    By Mary Spencer-Warren.
Zig-Zags at the Zoo.
    By A. G. Morrison.
    XIX.--Zig-Zag Batrachian.
    From the French of Ferdinand Beissier.
The Music of Nature.
    By T. Camden Pratt.
    Part II.
Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of Their Lives.
    Sir Henry Loch.
    Madame Belle Cole.
    The Lord Bishop of Peterborough.
    Lord Wantage.
    Sir Richard Temple, M.P.
A Terrible New Year's Eve.
    By Kathleen Huddleston.
Personal Reminiscences of Sir Andrew Clark.
    By E. H. Pitcairn.
    XIII.--Children.
The Signatures of Charles Dickens (with Portraits).
    By J. Holt Schooling.
    From the French of George Japy.
    By Inspector Moser.
The Family Name.
    From the French of Henri Malin.
The Queer Side of Things--
    Among the Freaks.--Major Microbe.
    Lamps of all Kinds and Times.
    The Two Styles.
       *       *       *       *       *
_Stories from the Diary of a Doctor._
_By the Authors of "THE MEDICINE LADY."_
VII.--THE HORROR OF STUDLEY GRANGE.
[Illustration: "THE HORROR OF STUDLEY GRANGE."]
I was in my consulting-room one morning, and had just said good-bye to
the last of my patients, when my servant came in and told me that a lady
had called who pressed very earnestly for an interview with me.
"I told her that you were just going out, sir," said the man, "and she
saw the carriage at the door; but she begged to see you, if only for two
minutes. This is her card."
I read the words, "Lady Studley."
"Show her in," I said, hastily, and the next moment a tall,
slightly-made, fair-haired girl entered the room.
She looked very young, scarcely more than twenty, and I could hardly
believe that she was, what her card indicated, a married woman.
The colour rushed into her cheeks as she held out her hand to me. I
motioned her to a chair, and then asked her what I could do for her.
"Oh, you can help me," she said, clasping her hands and speaking in a
slightly theatrical manner. "My husband, Sir Henry Studley, is very
unwell, and I want you to come to see him--can you?--will you?"
"With pleasure," I replied. "Where do you live?"
"At Studley Grange, in Wiltshire. Don't you know our place?"
"I daresay I ought to know it," I replied, "although at the present
moment I can't recall the name. You want me to come to see your husband.
I presume you wish me to have a consultation with his medical
"No, no, not at all. The fact is, Sir Henry has not got a medical
attendant. He dislikes doctors, and won't see one. I want you to come
and stay with us for a week or so. I have heard of you through mutual
friends--the Onslows. I know you can effect remarkable cures, and you
have a great deal of tact. But you can't possibly do anything for my
husband unless you are willing to stay in the house and to notice his
[Illustration: "LADY STUDLEY SPOKE WITH GREAT EMPHASIS."]
Lady Studley spoke with great emphasis and earnestness. Her long,
slender hands were clasped tightly together. She had drawn off her
gloves and was bending forward in her chair. Her big, childish, and
somewhat restless blue eyes were fixed imploringly on my face.
"I love my husband," she said, tears suddenly filling them--"and it is
dreadful, dreadful, to see him suffer as he does. He will die unless
someone comes to his aid. Oh, I know I am asking an immense thing, when
I beg of you to leave all your patients and come to the country. But we
can pay. Money is no object whatever to us. We can, we will, gladly pay
you for your services."
"I must think the matter over," I said. "You flatter me by wishing for
me, and by believing that I can render you assistance, but I cannot take
a step of this kind in a hurry. I will write to you by to-night's post
if you will give me your address. In the meantime, kindly tell me some
of the symptoms of Sir Henry's malady."
"I fear it is a malady of the mind," she answered immediately, "but it
is of so vivid and so startling a character, that unless relief is soon
obtained, the body must give way under the strain. You see that I am
very young, Dr. Halifax. Perhaps I look younger than I am--my age is
twenty-two. My husband is twenty years my senior. He would, however, be
considered by most people still a young man. He is a great scholar, and
has always had more or le